“It is not my function,” said the alien, “to give you information.”
“It isn’t necessary for you to, either,” grunted Hank. “It’s pretty obvious your native star and mine aren’t too far apart as galactic distances go—and exploratory ships have been getting closer to the opposing home worlds all the time. Instead of it being such a coincidence, you might say our meeting was close to inevitable.” He cocked an eye at the alien. “And I’m sure you’ve already figured that out for yourself as well as I did.”
The alien hesitated for a moment.
“I see,” he said at last, “there is no point in my trying to deceive you.”
“Oh you can try if you like,” said Hank, generously.
“No, I will be absolutely frank.”
“Suit yourself.”
“You obviously have assessed the situation here as fully and correctly as I have myself. Here we stand, facing each other in an armed truce. There can be no question of either of us allowing the other to carry word of the other’s civilization back to his own people. We cannot take the chance that the other’s people are not inimical and highly dangerous. It becomes, therefore, the duty of each of us to capture the other.” He cocked an eye at Hank. “Am I correct?”
“You’re doing the talking,” said Hank.
“At the present moment, we find ourselves at an impasse. My ship is possessed of a weapon which, by all the laws of science, should be able to destroy your ship utterly. Logically, you are at my mercy. However, illogically, you deny this.”
“Yep.” said Hank.
“You lay claim to an invisible weapon which you claim is greater than my own, and puts me at your mercy. For my own part I believe you are lying. But for the sake of my people I cannot put the matter to a test as things now stand. If I should do so and it should turn out I was wrong, I would be responsible for calamity.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Hank.
“However, an area of doubt remains in my mind. If you are so sure of the relative superiority of your weapon, why have you hesitated to make me prisoner in your turn?”
“Why bother?” Hank let go of his knee and leaned forward confidentially with both feet on the ground. “To be frank right back at you—you’re harmless. Besides, I’m going to settle down here.”
“Settle down? You mean you are going to set up residence here?”
“Certainly. It’s my world.”
“Your world?”
“Among my people,” said Hank, loftily, “when you find a world you like that no one else of our own kind has already staked out, you get to keep it.”
The pause the alien made this time was a very long one indeed.
“Now I know you are a liar,” he said.
“Well, suit yourself,” said Hank, mildly.
The alien stood staring at him.
“You leave me no alternative,” said the alien at last. “I offer you a proposition. I will give you proof that I have destroyed my cannon, if you will give me proof that you have destroyed your weapon. Then we can settle matters on the even basis that will result.”
“Unfortunately,” said Hank, “this weapon of mine can’t be destroyed.”
“Then,” the alien backed off a step and started to turn his translator around back toward the ship. “I must take the chance that you are not a liar and do my best to destroy you after all.”
“Hey! Hold on a minute!” said Hank. The alien paused and turned back. “Don’t rush off like that,” Hank stood up and flexed his muscles casually. The two were about the same height but it was obvious Hank carried what would have been an Earth-weight advantage of about fifty pounds. “You want to settle this man-to-man, I’m willing. No weapons, no holds barred. There’s a sporting proposition for you.”
“I am not a savage,” retorted the alien. “Or a fool.”
“Clubs?” said Hank, hopefully.
“No.”
“Knives?”
“Certainly not.”
“All right,” said Hank, shrugging, “have it your way. Go get yourself destroyed. I did my best to find some way out for you.”
The alien stood still as if thinking.
“Let me make you a second proposition,” he said at last. “All the alternatives you propose are those which give you the advantage. Let us reverse that. Let me propose that we trade ships, you and I.”
“What?” squawked Hank.
“You see? You are not interested in any fair encounter.”
“Certainly I am! But trade ships—why don’t you just ask me to give up right now?”
“Because you obviously will not do so.”
“There’s no difference between that and asking me to trade ships!” shouted Hank.
“Who knows?” said the alien. “Possibly you will learn to operate my cannon before I learn to operate your weapon.”
“You never could anyway—work mine, that is!” snorted Hank.
“I am willing to take my chances.”
“It’s ridiculous!”
“Very well.” The alien turned away. “I have no alternative but to do my best to destroy you.”
“Hold on. Hold on—” said Hank. “Look, all right. I agree. Just let me go back to my ship for a minute and pick up a few personal—”
“No. Neither one of us can take the chance of the other setting up a trap in his own ship. We trade now—without either of us going back to our ships.”
“Well, now look—” Hank took a step toward him.
“Stand back,” said the alien. “I am connected with my cannon by remote controls at this moment.”
“The air-lock doors to my ship are open. Yours aren’t.”
The alien reached out and touched the black box. Behind him, the air-lock door of the alien ship swung open, revealing an open inner door and a dark interior.
“I will abandon my translator at the entrance to your ship,” said the alien. “Is it settled?”
“Settled!” said Hank. He began walking toward the alien ship, looking back over his shoulder. The alien began trundling his black box toward Hank’s ship. As the distance between them widened, they began to put on speed. Halfway to the alien ship, Hank found himself running. He came panting up to the entrance of the alien air lock, and looked back just in time to see the alien dragging his black box in through the air lock of Hank’s ship.
“Hey!” yelled Hank, outraged. “You promised—”
The slam of the outer air-lock door, on his own ship, cut him off in mid-protest. He leaned against the open door of the alien ship’s air lock, getting his breath back. It occurred to him as a stray thought that he was built for power rather than speed.
“I should have walked,” he told the alien ship. “It wouldn’t have made any difference.” He glanced at his wrist watch. “I’ll give him three minutes. He sure didn’t lose any time finding those air-lock controls.”
He watched the second hand of his watch go around. When it passed the two and a half minute point, he began walking back to his own ship. He reached its closed air-lock door and fumbled with his fingers under the doorframe for the outside lock control button. He found and pressed it.
The door swung open. Smoke spurted out, followed instantly—as the door swung wide—by a flood of water. Washed out on the crest of this escaping flood came a very bedraggled looking alien. He stirred feebly, gargled something at Hank, and collapsed. Inside the spaceship a small torrential shower seemed to be in progress.
Hank hooked one big hand into the alien’s turtleneck upper garment and dragged him back into the ship. Groping around in the downpour, he found the controls for the automatic fire sprinkler system and turned them off. The shower ceased. Hank fanned smoke away from in front of his face, stepped across to the coffee maker and turned it off. He punched buttons to start the ventilating system and close the air-lock doors. Then he set about tying the alien to the bunk.