“It’s a light-pressure drive powered by incomplete hydrogen fusion. They use an electromagnetic ramscoop to get their own hydrogen from space.”
“Clever… Can they get away from us?”
“No. Their drive is on idle, ready to go, but it won’t help them. It’s pitifully weak.”
“What kind of weapons do they have?”
The Telepath remained silent for a long time. The others waited patiently for his answer. There was sound in the control dome, but it was the kind of sound one learns not to hear: the whine of heavy current, the muted purr of voices from below, the strange sound like continuously ripping cloth which came from the gravity motors.
“None at all, sir.” The Kzin’s voice became clearer; his hypnotic relaxation was broken by muscle twitches. He twisted as if in a nightmare. “Nothing aboard ship, not even a knife or a club. Wait, they’ve got cooking knives. But that’s all they use them for. They don’t fight.”
“They don’t fight?”
“No, sir. They don’t expect us to fight, either. The idea has occurred to three of them, and each has dismissed it from his mind.”
“But why?” the Captain asked, knowing the question was irrelevant, unable to hold it back.
“I don’t know, sir. It’s a science they use, or a religion. I don’t understand,” the Telepath whimpered. “I don’t understand at all.”
Which must be tough on him, the Captain thought. Completely alien thoughts. “What are they doing now?”
“Waiting for us to talk to them. They tried to talk to us, and they think we must be trying just as hard.”
“But why?—never mind, it’s not important. Can they be killed by heat?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Break contact.”
The Telepath shook his head violently. He looked like he’d been in a washing machine. The Captain touched a sensitized surface and bellowed, “Weapons Officer!”
“Here.”
“Use the inductors on the enemy ship.”
“But, sir they’re so slow! What if the alien attacks?”
“Don’t argue with me, you—” Snarling, the Captain delivered an impassioned monologue on the virtues of unquestioning obedience. When he switched off, the Alien Technologies Officer was back at the viewer and the Telepath had gone to sleep.
The Captain purred happily, wishing that they were all this easy.
When the occupants had been killed by heat he would take the ship. He could tell everything he needed to know about their planet by examining their life-support system. He could locate it by tracing the ship’s trajectory. Probably they hadn’t even taken evasive action!
If they came from a Kzin-like world it would become a Kzin world. And he, as Conquest Leader, would command one percent of its wealth for the rest of his life! Truly, the future looked rich. No longer would he be called by his profession. He would bear a
“Incidental information,” said the A-T Officer. “The ship was generating one and twelve sixty-fourth gee before it stopped rotating.”
“Little heavy,” the Captain mused. “Might be too much air, but it should be easy to Kzinform it. A-T, we find the strangest life forms. Remember the Chunquen?”
“Both sexes were sentient. They fought constantly.”
“And that funny religion on Altair One. They thought they could travel in time.”
“Yes, sir. When we landed the infantry they were all gone.”
“They must have all committed suicide with disintegrators. But why? They knew we only wanted slaves. And I’m still trying to figure out how they got rid of the disintegrators afterward.”
“Some beings,” said the A-T Officer, “will do anything to keep their beliefs.”
Eleven years beyond Pluto, eight years from her destination, the fourth colony ship to We Made It fell between the stars. Before her the stars were green-white and blue-white, blazing points against nascent black. Behind they were sparse, dying red embers. To the sides the constellations were strangely flattened. The universe was shorter than it had been.
For awhile Jim Davis was very busy. Everyone, including himself, had a throbbing blinding headache. To each patient, Dr. Davis handed a tiny pink pill from the dispenser slot of the huge autodoc which covered the back wall of the infirmary. They milled outside the door waiting for the pills to take effect, looking like a full-fledged mob in the narrow corridor; and then someone thought it would be a good idea to go to the lounge, and everyone followed him. It was an unusually silent mob. Nobody felt like talking while the pain was with them. Even the sound of magnetic sandals was lost in the plastic pile rug.
Steve saw Jim Davis behind him. “Hey, Doc,” he called softly. “How long before the pain stops?”
“Mine’s gone away. You got your pills a little after I did, right?”
“Right. Thanks, Doc.”
They didn’t take pain well, these people. They were unused to it.
In single file they walked or floated into the lounge. Low-pitched conversations started. People took couches, using the sticky plastic strips on their falling jumpers. Others stood or floated near walls. The lounge was big enough to hold them all in comfort.
Steve wriggled near the ceiling, trying to pull on his sandals.
“I hope they don’t try that again,” he heard Sue say. “It hurt.”
“Try what?” Someone Steve didn’t recognize, half-listening as he was.
“Whatever they tried. Telepathy, perhaps.”
“No. I don’t believe in telepathy. Could they have set up ultrasonic vibrations in the walls?”
Steve had his sandals on. He left the magnets turned off.
“…a cold beer. Do you realize we’ll never taste beer again?” Jim Davis’ voice.
“I miss waterskiing.” Ann Harrison sounded wistful. “The feel of a pusher unit shoving into the small of your back, the water beating against your feet, the sun…”
Steve pushed himself toward them. “Taboo subject,” he called.
“We’re on it anyway,” Jim boomed cheerfully. “Unless you’d rather talk about the alien, which everyone else is doing. I’d rather drop it for the moment. What’s your greatest regret at leaving Earth?”
“Only that I didn’t stay long enough to really see it.”
“Oh, of course.” Jim suddenly remembered the drinking bulb in his hand. He drank from it, hospitably passed it to Steve.
“This waiting makes me restless,” said Steve. “What are they likely to try next? Shake the ship in Morse code?”
Jim smiled. “Maybe they won’t try anything next. They may give up and leave.”
“Oh, I hope not!” said Ann.
“Would that be so bad?”
Steve had a start. What was Jim thinking?
“Of course!” Ann protested. “We’ve got to find out what they’re like! And think of what they can teach us, Jim!”
When conversation got controversial it was good manners to change the subject. “Say,” said Steve, “I happened to notice the wall was warm when I pushed off. Is that good or bad?”
“That’s funny. It should be cold, if anything,” said Jim. “There’s nothing out there but starlight. Except—” A most peculiar expression flitted across his face. He drew his feet up and touched the magnetic soles with his fingertips.
“Eeeee! Jim! Jim!”
Steve tried to whirl around and got nowhere. That was Sue! He switched on his shoes, thumped to the floor, and went to help.
Sue was surrounded by bewildered people. They split to let Jim Davis through, and he tried to lead her out
