Gordon Dickson Hour of the Gremlins

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

waiting only for the smallest movement or sound on his part that could be used
as an excuse for an attack.
Grimly, he gave them no excuse. He knew them now, after these weeks of
working together, and he knew that the worst thing he could do at this time
would be to urge them to go back on their training. Deliberately, except for
Chak'ha, who alone had not deserted him, he ignored them and went back to his
self-training at the control console, alone. Day after day he worked there,
while the dot that was the Silver Horde grew steadily on the control room
vision screen.
And slowly, having nothing else to fight, nothing else to do, the rest of the
twenty-three began to return. First Luhon, then Eff, then gradually other
members of the crew came to join Miles in the control room, standing behind
him and silently watching the screen as he watched it. As Miles had gambled
they would, those emotions which had betrayed them as barbarians before the
Center Alien observer now began to take hold of them once again whether they
wished it or not. For this reaction, too, was predictable and instinctive.
The Silver Horde was plainly visible on the screen in all its numbers
now right down to the last line of rearguard vessels. Those in the control
room with Miles watched with him as the individual lines of silver ships, the
individual squadrons of the Horde's advance, seemed to surge forward
individually, then stop, then surge and stop again. In order, like muscles
rippling down the many ribs of a moving snake, the Horde came on by shift
steps, moving light-years at a shift, through the dark vastness beyond the
galaxy's spiral arm. Already its total fleet filled nearly a hundred and
twenty degrees of the hundred and eighty degrees of screen. It was a silver
mass, thick at the center and thinning out toward the ends with the tips of
its line curving forward like horns, ready to encircle any world or solar
system or fleet that offered resistance or sustenance to the millions within
its silver ships.
Watching it sent a cold feeling, like a chilling draft, across the back of
Miles' neck. By this time the Horde was plainly aware of the Battle Line that
was waiting for it and, far from avoiding it, its fleet had clearly altered
course to meet the Battle Line head on. Early in the fourth week following
theFighting Rowboat 's failure before the Center Alien observer, this shift in
course became obvious to Miles, and during the rest of the week it began to
penetrate the minds of the rest of the crew.
With that penetration, a strange thing began to happen aboard theFighting
Rowboat.
Page 156
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Without consultation, in fact almost with a silent, unanimous consent, the
twenty-three began to take up their old duties aboard the ship, and, again
without consultation, Miles one day found himself with Eff and Luhon seated on
either side of him, lifting theFighting Rowboat once more from the platform
for a training session.
They ran through a programmed attack without a flaw, and with no trace of
that emotion that had betrayed them at the hand of the Center Alien observer.
In fact, there was a new air of cold purpose aboard the ship. They all felt
it, but Miles most of all. To him, as leader, it felt as if a powerful hand
had been laid between his shoulder blades, shoving him irresistibly forward
into rehearsal after rehearsal for the attack that was coming.
In fact, there was a new closeness about them all aboard theFighting Rowboat.
The approach of the Horde served to gather up the fragments of their
collective spirit and weld it back together again into one solid mass harder
now because it had been tempered by what they had been through.
Their efficiency and potency with the weapons climbed sharply. By the time
the Horde was less than a week from decision point that moment in which
retreat would be no longer possible for the ships of the Battle Lines Miles'
rating charts showed theFighting Rowboat to have more than doubled her
effectiveness since the time the Center Alien had come to observe them.
"But they'll still never agree to let us fight," said Eff, standing beside
Miles as he checked the last point of advance on the chart. "We're still only
animals to them. Useful because they can drink our blood before the battle to
make themselves strong for it. But aside from that, we're just so many cattle
to be left behind when the real action comes!"
"Still, anything can happen," answered Luhon softly from Miles' other side.
"Maybe the Horde will decide whether we fight them or not. Maybe the decision
won't be up to the Center Aliens once the real fighting starts."
Miles said nothing. But he understood the other two, just as he understood
the new, welded singleness of decision of all aboard theFighting Rowboat. The
other twenty-two had come to the point he himself had reached a long time ago.
They had stopped trying to reconcile the powerful, undeniable feelings burning
within them with the cold and distant attitude of the Center Aliens. Now they
simply disregarded the fact that the Center Aliens had refused them the right
to fight when the battle was joined. They ignored that refusal and continued
to prepare themselves as though their part in that battle were inevitable.
Meanwhile, the Horde came on.
13
Three days until Decision Point.
Two days.
One. Miles got up from his seat before the control console and the vision
screen. He walked back through the ship, past the rest of the twenty-two. They
sat, silently working with their weapons. Miles went alone out onto the
platform.
He looked off into the direction in which the Horde was coming.
Page 157
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
But here, to the naked eye, there was nothing to see. The silver ships were [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Pokrewne