It was true, but he had hoped to avoid mentioning it. The power to the control circuits would be interrupted after four hours, and the booby trap would be deactivated. For if he hadn’t achieved his goal by then, he meant to neglect a signal during the last half-hour and let the C-ward lurch tear them apart. He nodded slowly.
“You’re quiet right. You have four hours in which to surrender your ship into my control. Maybe. I’ll send the signals until I decide you don’t mean to co-operate. Then—” He shrugged.
The Solarian gave a command to his aides. They departed in different directions. Roki guessed that they had been sent to check for some way to enter the
His host waved him through a doorway, and he found himself in their control room. A glance told him that their science still fell short of the most modern cultures. They had the earmarks of a new race, and yet Sol’s civilization was supposedly the oldest in the galaxy.
“There are the transmitters,” the commander barked. “Say what you have to say, and we shall see who is best at waiting.”
Roki sat down, fingered the key, and watched his adversary closely. The commander fell into a seat opposite him and gazed coolly through narrowed lids. He wore a fixed smile of amusement. “Your name is Eli Roki, I believe. I am Space Commander Hulgruv.”
A blare of sound suddenly came from the receiver. Hulgruv frowned and lowered the volume. The sound came forth as a steady musical tone. He questioned the Cophian with his eyes.
“When the tone ceases, the signals will begin.”
“I see.”
“I warn you, I may get bored rather quickly. I’ll keep the signals going only until I think you’ve had time to assure yourselves that this is not a bluff I am trying to put over on you.”
“I’m sure it’s not. It’s merely an inconvenience.”
“You know little of my home planet then.”
“I know a little.”
“Then you’ve heard of the ‘Sword of Apology.’”
“How does that—” Hulgruv paused and lost his smirk for an instant. “I see. If you blunder, your code demands that you die anyway. So you think you wouldn’t hesitate to neglect a signal.”
“Try me.”
“It may not be necessary. Tell me, why did you space them two minutes apart? Why not one signal every hour?”
“You can answer that.”
“Ah yes. You think the short period insures you against any painful method of persuasion, eh?”
“Uh-huh. And it gives me a chance to decide frequently whether it’s worth it.”
“What is it you want, Cophian? Suppose we give you the girl and release you.”
“She is a mere incidental,” he growled, fearful of choking on the words. “The price is surrender.”
Hulgruv laughed heartily. It was obvious he had other plans. “Why do you deem us your enemy?”
“You heard the accusation I beamed back to my Cluster.”
“Certainly. We ignored it, directly. Indirectly we made a fool of you by launching another, uh, mercy ship to your system. The cargo was labeled as to source, and the ship made a point of meeting one of your patrol vessels. It stopped for inspection. You’re less popular at home than ever.” He grinned. “I suggest you return to Sol with us. Help us develop the warp locks.”
Roki hesitated. “You say the ship
“Certainly.”
“Wasn’t it inconvenient? Changing your diet, leaving your ‘livestock’ at home—so our people wouldn’t know you for what you really are.”
Hulgruv stiffened slightly, then nodded. “Good guess.”
“Not at all. I am not a man.”
They stared fixedly at one another. The Cophian felt the clammy cloak of hate creeping about him. The tone from the speaker suddenly stopped. A moment of dead silence. Roki leaned back in his chair.
“I’m not going to answer the first signal.”
The commander glanced through the doorway and jerked his head. A moment later, Talcwa Walkeka stepped proudly into the room, escorted by a burly guard. She gave him an icy glance and said nothing.
“Daleth—”
She made a noise like an angry cat and sat where the guard pushed her. They waited. The first signal suddenly screeched from the receiver: two series of short bleats of three different notes.
Involuntarily his hand leaped to the key. He bleated back the answering signal.
Daleth wore a puzzled frown. “Ilgen times ufneg is hork-segan,” she muttered in translation.
A slow grin spread across Hulgruv’s heavy face. He turned to look at the girl. “You’re trained in the Cophian number system?”
“Don’t answer that!” Roki bellowed.
“She has answered it, manthing. Are you aware of what your friend is doing, female?”
She shook her head. Hulgruv told her briefly. She frowned at Roki, shook her head, and stared impassively at the floor. Apparently she was either drugged or had learned nothing about the Solarians to convince her that they were enemies of the galaxy.
“Tell me, Daleth. Have they been feeding you well?” She hissed at him again. “Are you crazy—”
Hulgruv chuckled. “He is trying to tell you that we are cannibals. Do you believe it?”
Fright appeared in her face for an instant, then disbelief. She stared at the commander, saw no guilt in his expression. She looked scorn at Roki.
“Listen, Daleth! That’s why they wouldn’t stop. Human livestock aboard. One look in their holds and we would have known, seen through their guise of mercy, recognized them as self-styled supermen, guessed their plans for galactic conquest. They breed their human cattle on their home planet and make a business of selling the parts. Their first weapon is infiltration into our confidence. They knew that if we gained an insight into their bloodthirsty culture, we would crush them.”
“You’re insane, Roki!” she snapped.
“No! Why else would they refuse to stop? Technical secrets? Baloney! Their technology is still inferior to ours. They carried a cargo of hate, our hate, riding with them unrecognized. They couldn’t afford to reveal it.”
Hulgruv laughed uproariously. The girl shook her head slowly at Roki, as if pitying him.
“It’s true, I tell you! I guessed, sure. But it was pretty obvious they were taking their surgibank supplies by murder. And they contend they’re not men. They guard their ships so closely, live around them while in port. And he admitted it to me.”
The second signal came. Roki answered it, then began ignoring the girl. She didn’t believe him. Hulgruv appeared amused. He hummed the signals over to himself
“You’re using polytonal code for challenge, monotonal for reply. That makes it harder to learn.”
The Cophian caught his breath. He glanced at the Solarian’s huge, bald braincase. “You hope to learn some three or four hundred sounds—and sound-combinations within the time I allow you?”
“We’ll see.”
Some note of contempt in Hulgruv’s voice gave Roki warning.
“I shorten my ultimatum to one hour! Decide by then. Surrender, or I stop answering. Learn it, if you can.”
“He can, Roki,” muttered Daleth. “They can memorize a whole page at a glance.”
Roki keyed another answer. “I’ll cut it off if he tries it.”
The commander was enduring the tension of the stalemate superbly. “Ask yourself, Cophian,” he grunted with a smile, “what would you gain by destroying the ship—and yourself? We are not important. If we’re destroyed, our planet loses another gnat in space, nothing more. Do you imagine we are incapable of self-sacrifice?”
Roki found no answer. He set his jaw in silence and answered the signals as they came. He hoped the bluff
