“I’ll settle down there after the Third Expedition, I think,” Golyev admitted. “From what I saw of the planet last time, I believe I’d like it. And the opportunities are unlimited. A whole world waiting to be properly developed!”
“I could show you a great many chances you’d otherwise overlook,” insinuated Elva.
Golyev shifted position. “Let’s not go into that again,” he said. “You know I can’t take you along.”
“You’re the fleet commander, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I will be, but curse it, can’t you understand? The IP is not like any other corporation. We use men who think and act on their own, not planet-hugging morons like what’s-her-name—” He jerked a thumb at Belgoya, who lowered her eyes meekly and continued mixing him a third drink. “Men of patron status, younger sons of executives and engineers. The officers can’t have special privileges. It’d ruin morale.”
Elva fluttered her lashes. “Not that much. Really.”
“My oldest boy’s promised to take care of you. He’s not such a bad fellow as you seem to think. You only have to go along with his whims. I’ll see you again, in thirty years.”
“When I’m gray and wrinkled. Why not kick me out in the streets and be done?”
“You know why!” he said ferociously. “You’re the first woman I could ever talk to. No, I’m not bored with you! But—”
“If you really cared for me—”
“What kind of idiot do you take me for? I know you’re planning to sneak away to your own people, once we’ve landed.”
Elva tossed her head, haughtily. “Well! If you believe that of me, there’s nothing more to say.”
“Aw, now, sweetling, don’t take that attitude.” He reached out a hand to lay on her arm. She withdrew to the far end of the couch. He looked baffled.
“Another thing,” he argued. “If you care about your planet at all, as I suppose you do, even if you’ve now seen what a bunch of petrified mudsuckers they are … remember, what we’ll have to do there won’t be pretty.”
“First you call me a traitor,” she flared, “and now you say I’m gutless!”
“Hoy, wait a minute—”
“Go on, beat me. I can’t stop you. You’re brave enough for that.”
“I never—”
In the end, he yielded.
553 A.C.C.:
The missile which landed on Yuvaskula had a ten-kilometer radius of total destruction. Thus most of the city went up in one radioactive fire-gout. In a way, the thought of men and women and little children with pet kittens, incinerated, made a trifle less pain in Elva than knowing the Old Town was gone: the cabin raised by the first men to land on Vaynamo, the ancient church of St. Yarvi with its stained glass windows and gilded belltower, the Museum of Art where she went as a girl on entranced visits, the University where she studied and where she met Karlavi— I’m a true daughter of Vaynamo, she thought with remorse. Whatever is traditional, full of memories, whatever has been looked at and been done by all the generations before me, I hold dear. The Chertkoians don’t care. They haven’t any past worth remembering.
Flames painted the northern sky red, even at this distance, as she walked among the plastishelters of the advanced base. She had flown within a hundred kilometers, using an aircar borrowed from the flagship, then landed to avoid possible missiles and hitched a ride here on a supply truck. The Chertkoian enlisted men aboard had been delighted until she showed them her pass, signed by Commander Golyev himself. Then they became cringingly respectful.
The pass was supposed to let her move freely about only in the rear areas, and she’d had enough trouble wheedling it from Bors. But no one thereafter looked closely at it. She herself was so unused to the concept of war that she didn’t stop to wonder at such lax security measures. Had she done so, she would have realized Chertkoi had never developed anything better, never having faced an enemy of comparable strength. Vaynamo certainly wasn’t, even though the planet was proving a hard-shelled opponent, with every farmhouse a potential arsenal and every forest road a possible death trap. Guerrilla fighters hindered the movements of an invader with armor, atomic artillery, complete control of air and space; they could not stop him.
Elva drew her dark mantle more tightly about her and crouched under a gun emplacement. A sentry went by, his helmet square against the beloved familiar face of a moon, his rifle aslant across the stars. She didn’t want needless questioning. For a moment the distanUblaze sprang higher, unrestful ruddy light touched her, she was afraid she had been observed. But the man continued his round.
From the air she had seen that the fire was mostly a burning forest, kindled from Yuvaskula. Those wooden houses not blown apart by the missile stood unharmed in whitest glow. Some process must have been developed at one of the research institutes for indurating timber, since she left…. How Bors would laugh if she told him! An industry which turned out a bare minimum of vehicles, farm machinery, tools, chemicals; a science which developed fireproofing techniques and traced out ecological chains; a population which deliberately held itself static, so as to preserve its old customs and laws—presuming to make war on Chertkoi!
Even so, he was too experienced a fighter to dismiss any foe as weak without careful examination. He had been excited enough about one thing to mention it to Elva—a prisoner taken in a skirmish near Yuvaskula, when he still hoped to capture the city intact: an officer, who cracked just enough under interrogation to indicate he knew something important. But Golyev couldn’t wait around for the inquisitors to finish their work. He must go out the very next day to oversee the battle for Lempo Machine Tool Works, and Elva knew he wouldn’t return soon. The plant had been constructed underground as an economy measure, and to preserve the green parkscape above. Now its concrete warrens proved highly defensible, and were being bitterly contested. The Chertkoians meant to seize it, so they could be sure of demolishing everything. They would not leave Vaynamo any nucleus of industry. After all, the planet would have thirty-odd years to recover and rearm itself against the Third Expedition.
Left alone by Bors, Elva took an aircar and slipped off to the advanced base.
She recognized the plastishelter she wanted by its Intelligence insignia. The guard outside aimed a rifle at her. “Halt!” His boyish voice cracked over with nervousness. More than one sentry had been found in the morning with his throat cut.
“It’s all right,” she told him. “I’m to see the prisoner Ivalo.”
“The gooze officer?” He flashed a pencil-thin beam across her face. “But, you’re a—uh-”
“A Vaynamoan myself. Of course. There are a few of us along, you know. Prisoners taken last time, who’ve enlisted in your cause as guides and spies. You must have heard of me. I’m Elva, Commander Golyev’s lady.”
“Oh. Yes, mistress. Sure I have.” “Here’s my pass.”
He squinted at it uneasily. “But, uh, may I ask what, uh, what you figure to do? I’ve got strict orders—”