"The O's trust us, Wester."
"Good!"
"How can you do this, Wester?"
"I can do it because the O's were right the first time—we're not intelligent! We're troublesome, dangerous pests! And it was stupid of them to try and communicate with us—just as stupid as it would be for us to try and communicate with them! And we're going to show them just how wrong they are, Tara—you and me and Gildron."
Tara moaned. It was tearing her apart. She was a psycher, of course. She could have forced me to obey her—easily. Except for one big problem—she was a slave of the Legion, just like me. We were both cursed.
###
"This will never work, Wester." Tara and Gildron stood beside me. I had spread our gear over the O's extra-high table. We were working the tacmap on the Persist, fascinated by the details Sweety was revealing to us about the alien starship.
"Maybe it won't, Tara. But we're going to try. We've got to try!"
"History will condemn us, Wester! This is our only chance for peace with the O's. We won't get a second chance!"
"I don't care about history, Tara. Look at this! O Number Four!" Sweety had the whole ship for us—every single room, every single energy source, every single O.
"It's hard to believe there's only four of them, in the whole ship."
"No, it makes sense—there's something wrong with the ship. That's why it didn't launch with the others, that's why we're still not in stardrive. And that's why the Mound was nearly empty of O's. They probably left only enough O's to repair the ship, and we killed some of them in our attack."
"Four of them."
"It sure looks that way. Two on the bridge—that's got to be the bridge. And two on the stardrive. Probably banging away desperately with hammers."
"That's certainly the drive." A tremendous energy source glowing with antimats occupied a massive chamber midships. Enough energy to power a star, surely. But there was something else, way up in the tip of the boom, glittering so brilliantly we couldn't make out any details on the tacmap display. We didn't have time to puzzle it out, but I knew it was exactly what the Legion wanted.
"And there's our weapons! Just waiting for us, right up that corridor." We could see them on the tacmap, our discarded A-suits, three E's, three ampaks of grenades and contac and timers, inside a little room full of indescribable alien equipment.
"It won't work, Wester. There are four of them. And they're not stupid. The instant there's trouble, they psych us and that's the end of us. Even one of them can do it. There's no counter to the psyching. It's suicide! What's the point?"
"My psybloc unit is still functional. My helmet was off when the O's blew out your psyblocs, and the unit was off. It should be still good. I'll detach it from the helmet—we'll have psybloc. It'll work!"
"They exploded the other two units—they know how to counter the psybloc now! What makes you think they're not going to do the same with your unit?"
"They're only going to have a few fracs. And if the bloc goes, we've still got psybloc grenades."
"Only a few. Not enough. Two O's at one end of the ship, two at the other. It won't work."
"They're going to get together some time, aren't they? For a staff meeting, for lunch, something."
"They're psychers. Maybe they don't have to get together for a staff meeting. Maybe they only eat once a year—we don't know!"
"We'll watch them. There'll be a pattern, sooner or later."
"If it ever comes out that they offered mankind a permanent peace and we attacked them, we'll be cursed by all humanity. We'll be reviled as insane, genocidal traitors."
"Funny—that's what we say about the Systies for trying to make peace with the O's, isn't it? Can't win, it seems, no matter what you do."
"We may cause the extermination of our species. Don't you understand that?" Tara was pale and furious.
"A diversion. We're going to need a diversion, no matter what we decide. Something to keep them busy while we attack."
"Wester—they're offering to end the war! Don't you know what it means? Are you really willing to take on a responsibility like this? Are you really sure the Legion would approve?"
"Maybe we could have you make an impassioned speech, about galactic peace or something. Then, while they're laughing, Gildron and I can attack."
"It's not funny, Wester. What's that?" Sweety had spotted something, a life form glowing on the screen, a phospho dot.
"Identification, Sweety."
"Human, Thinker. Alive." It was in the heart of the ship past a honeycombed maze of intersecting corridors and rooms under rooms. Human. Alive. Not moving.
"That's strange," Tara said.
"Is it Legion, Sweety?" I asked.
"Negative, Three. Non-Legion."
"Damn," I said. "We don't need this."
"Human," Tara said. "We'll have to find him—or her."
"It's going to have to wait," I said. "We've got more important things to do."
"What could be more important than rescuing a human from the O's?" Tara asked quietly.
"Killing O's," I replied.
"Brave talk," Tara said, "but pointless. Do you really think we have any chance at all? Do you remember when that O came into the room and fooled around with our arms?"
"I remember it."
"What do you think it was doing?"
"I don't know. Do you?"
"No—but we'd better think about it! It could have been anything. He could have injected something into us, for all we know. They might not even have to psych us. It could be autohypnotic. Lift a finger against the O's, and we die. Maybe that's why they don't seem to be concerned about us any more."
I turned away from the tacmod, and looked at Tara. "You could be right," I said. "Give me that medpak."
I pressed the medprobe against the scarred and burnt flesh of my right arm and triggered it.
"Medprobe," I said. "Internal analysis. Report anything unusual."
"I detect numerous penetrations of hostile microorganisms which entered from the external wounds," the medprobe reported quietly. "All but one are under successful attack by natural and artificial leucocytes. One penetration resists the defenses."
"Describe the intruder."
"Microscopic artificial device, self-powered, moving freely through the circulatory system, currently located in the femoral artery."
"Damn! We don't need this! Details!"
"All leucocyte attacks have failed. The device is impervious to your bodily defenses. The device is not discharging any substances into the bloodstream."
"What is the purpose of the device? What does it do?"
"There is insufficient data to respond to the question."
"Damn!" I could feel it, a white-hot rage, crawling over my skin. This wasn't going to stop me, I decided.
Nothing was going to stop me.
"You see, we know nothing," Tara said calmly. "I don't really think it's autohypnotic, but who knows? We know nothing about the O's science. We will not know what it is until it activates—and by then it'll be too late."
"Just what do you suggest?" I slammed the probe back into the medpak.
"You're proposing suicide, Wester," Tara said grimly. "And it's not necessary. You haven't heard the message, so you don't understand. The O's told me—through Gildron—that they understand about us, now. They have classified us as intelligent. And intelligent life does not resolve potential contradictions with violence, but with the application of intelligent solutions. They are now willing to live together with us peacefully, side by side. The war is over, Wester. Over! Can't you grasp it? And Gildron did it—we did it! Peace! The end of the war! Our mission has changed, Wester. We're ambassadors from the human race, and we've got to make the O's understand that they have to deliver us back to Uldo, so we can carry their message back to our people."