The Sails of Tau Ceti (22 page)

“I’d like some time to think about it.”

“I am sorry, but we require your response now. There is much we must teach you, and little enough time.”

Tory swallowed hard. She would have liked to talk this over with the others, but something in Faslorn’s manner suggested that she would not be allowed to. The truth was that she
did
believe in giving the Phelan sanctuary. With Earth going through its current bout of xenophobia, obtaining sanctuary for
Far Horizons
’s refugees was going to be difficult enough. It might not be possible at all if the aliens were left on their own. Their ability to mimic humanity reminded her of the old tale of the dog who could growl a few phrases. That he spoke badly was of less significance than the fact that he could do it at all.

If she were to sign on as the Phelans’ ambassador to humanity, she just might make the difference they needed. She had no false modesty about her own abilities. She was good, having excelled at everything she had ever attempted. If she became their advocate, she would do a much better than average job for them. Could there be any greater goal in life than helping this shipload of likeable aliens come in from the cold and dark of interstellar space?

She considered her options and discovered that they were few indeed. It was as though fate had been steering her toward this for most of her life. She chewed her lower lip, took a deep breath, and finally, nodded. “Based on your assurances that I will be helping my own people, I accept your offer. When do we start?”

“Immediately,”
Far Horizons
’ commander said. He touched a control stud. The lights dimmed. The large holoscreen behind him came immediately to light. From out of its pseudo-depth shown a thousand cold, distant stars. Dimly lit by starlight in the foreground were rank upon rank of cylindrical shapes. Tory felt a geyser of puzzlement well up within her. Each cylinder looked just as
Far Horizons
had upon approach, except that there was no evidence of a light sail on any of them.

“What the hell is this?” she asked as she gazed at the perplexing scene.

From somewhere nearby, Faslorn’s disembodied voice said; “You are looking at the Phelan Third Fleet, some six years behind us.”

“What are you talking about? The other three ships of your fleet are all headed for other star systems.”

“The story of the four ships is a work of fiction. Nor was there ever any Time of Troubles. It is pure fiction.”

“But why lie about it?”

“To keep you asking some rather obvious questions,” Faslorn replied. “For one, how a race with our industrial potential only managed to construct four escape ships with fifty years warning of the coming nova. Also, we hoped to engender sympathy for our cause.”

“Then there aren’t three other ships heading for other star systems?”

“That wasn’t wholly a lie, Tory. Except the three ships are actually three other fleets. You see before you a small part of the fleet for which
Far Horizons
is a scout vessel.”

Tory felt her throat constrict around the next words as she formed them. She barely managed to croak forth the question: “How many?”

Faslorn fixed her with a steady gaze as she in turn stood transfixed by the dimly glowing shapes inside the holoscreen.”

“The Third Fleet numbers slightly more than twenty two thousand vessels.”

“And the number of Phelan en route to Sol?”

“During the last census, the fleet population numbered three billion individuals.”

CHAPTER 16

Tory felt rage building within her. How could they have studied humanity for so long, yet be so damned stupid? Hadn’t their centuries of eavesdropping told them anything? Earth was deep in the throes of isolationism, and Mars could barely support her current 250 million. She had been worried sick for the last few weeks that Earth would reject
Far Horizons
’ paltry one hundred thousand refugees! How did Faslorn think the terrestrials would react when they learned there were 22,000 other ships following right behind?

She retrieved what little self-control remained her and screamed,
“Are you out of your skinking minds?”

“I hope not,” the Phelan commander said. If he noticed the murderous look she gave him, he showed no sign. His outward calm had the desired effect on Tory. With each gulp of air, she became a little less wild eyed.

“But damn it, Faslorn, be reasonable! Earth cannot absorb another three billion mouths, not even if they wanted to. They do not have the resources. Neither can Mars. We would have trouble resettling the people off even a single ship, let alone the whole damned fleet. We’d all starve together!”

“We recognize the magnitude of the problem, and we wish we didn’t have to impose on you, but we must.”

“We’ll fight if you try to force yourselves on us.”

Faslorn fixed her with a steady gaze. “I hope it won’t come to that.
Far Horizons
is merely the Third Fleet’s advance scout. It is our privilege to reveal ourselves to humanity so those who follow can observe our fate. If peaceful means fail, they are prepared to try others.”

“Are you threatening war?”

“War is certainly an option,” Faslorn agreed. “You cannot imagine how powerful a weapon even a single light sail can be. We have studied several scenarios. Unfortunately, none of them offers us much hope of conquering an indigenous species on its home territory. We can exterminate humanity, but not conquer it.”

“Damned right!” Tory said. A moment later, she wondered at the sudden surge of adrenaline in her veins. It was not fear so much as the primal call to arms that was affecting her. The hot blood that coursed in her veins was the legacy of a thousand generations of warrior ancestors.

“Unfortunately, while exterminating humanity, we would also exterminate most life on the worlds we hope to inherit. The Earth would not support our colony afterwards. It would be a Pyrrhic victory.” Faslorn emitted a sound that Tory knew to be the equivalent of a human sigh. “If your people reject us, we will be forced to do something far worse than war.”

“What can be worse than war?” Tory asked, her anger suddenly submerged by her curiosity.

“Know this, Victoria Bronson. Our star was not a victim of stellar evolution. The reaction that eventually destroyed Tau Ceti was artificially induced. I’m afraid that we Phelan destroyed our star.”

“You destroyed your own star?”

Faslorn signaled his assent. “Those who began the nova reaction were from a faction we call the ‘usurpers.’ I will not attempt to describe their reasons, as no human could possibly understand them. Even we, raised aloof from Phelan custom, have difficulty understanding the nature of the argument that caused Tau Ceti’s destruction. Suffice to say that the usurpers’ aim was to gain advantage by threatening the rest of our species with a weapon of ultimate destructive power. They planned a small demonstration to convince their opponents the threat was real. Someone miscalculated and so upset our star’s equilibrium that the damage could not be repaired. Our scientists were able to retard the reaction, but not to stop it. Fifty-two cycles after the initial mistake, our sun went nova.”

“What happened to the usurpers?”

“They remained behind to observe the culmination of their handiwork at close hand.”

Tory shuddered. “How awful!”

“We prefer to think of it as justice.”

“You realize, of course, that we’ll never accept you once this story becomes public. People who explode their own star are capable of anything.”

“You do not yet understand,” Faslorn replied. “If those who command the Third Fleet feel their cause to be hopeless, they will seek another star by initiating a nova reaction within Sol.”

Tory’s mouth dropped open. It took her a moment to regain control. “You’d blow up the sun?”

“With the greatest reluctance, I assure you.”

“But why?”

“We require the nova to propel our light sails. Without it, the journey between stars is a matter of millennia rather than centuries. None of our ships would remain operable over such a long journey. The Third Fleet would be peopled by corpses by the time it arrived at the new destination. So you see, Victoria, I spoke the literal truth when I said that you would help humanity by helping us. Find us a place to live and we will make your species rich. Deny us and your race is doomed!”

#

It was nearly a minute before Tory ran out of obscenities to hurl at the two Phelan. Only when she began repeating herself for the third time did she begin to wind down. Through the whole outpouring of vituperation, Faslorn and Maratel stood impassive.

Her words dripped sarcasm as she asked, “And this is your plan? After two centuries, this is all you’ve been able to come up with?”

“Unfortunate, but true.”

“There has to be a better way.”

“We’ve spent all our lives looking for a better way. There is none.”

Tory brushed back an errant lock of hair and tried to think. There were times in life when matters are too serious to allow emotions to interfere with one’s judgment. When she had been a child, a dome had ruptured at home. Those who had kept their wits about them had mostly survived. Those who panicked had died. That incident had been trivial compared to what she now faced. Tory ruthlessly forced her raging emotions into a tightly locked compartment in the back of her mind and began to think furiously.

“Look, I don’t buy the crap you’re shoveling for a second, but for the sake of argument, let’s say you are telling the truth. How can you possibly expect to get away with it? In six years, your fleet will begin to unfurl their sails and anyone with a pair of binoculars will see the 22,000 tiny lights blossoming in the sky. There will be riots in the streets!”

“By that time, we must achieve a position in your society that will allow us to ride out the shock just as we once rode the nova’s shock.”

“How the hell do you expect to do that?”

“We have observed that human motivation is steeped in self interest. Therefore, if we are to be accepted, there must be a strong constituency whose self-interest lies with us. With your assistance, we will demonstrate to certain powerful and influential humans how they will benefit from our advanced technology. If properly done, we will have enough allies when the time comes to ride out the storm.”

Tory gave a low whistle. “That’s a powerful order.”

“That is why we need your help. Without you, we have no hope of success. With you, there is a slim chance.”

Tory fell silent. Her mind raced wildly as her stomach did nervous flip-flops. The taste of bile was strong in her mouth. Too late, she recognized the trap Faslorn had set for her. It was a construct of almost fiendish cleverness, and one that reinforced the idea that the Phelan knew humans better than humanity itself.

For if a human were to attempt such an outlandish scheme, he would most likely recruit her with fanciful lies. By telling her the awful truth, Faslorn had bound her to him and his cause more tightly than if he had used a chain and a welding torch. She could trumpet the warning to Earth, but to what avail? The news would lead to panic. The Phelan request for sanctuary would be rejected out of hand, and sometime within the next six years, Sol would explode into a twin of the Tau Ceti nova.

No, if she were to avoid the sun’s destruction, she would have to keep Faslorn’s secret for him. That, in turn, had other implications. If she kept the secret, then humanity’s safety would depend on her alone. She must guard her every word and action for years to come. Even a single slip of the tongue could end everything. The weight of responsibility would be crushing. Could she do it? Did she have the inner strength to stand up under the pressure?

Yet, even if successful, she was doomed. When the truth of the Third Fleet became known, she would appear a traitor to her species, a Mata Hari who had suborned others to treason. She wondered what penalty would be meted out on that inevitable black day. Would she be arrested or simply torn limb from limb by an enraged mob? The worst of it was the realization that she would be hated for as long as the human race survived. She would go to her grave with the knowledge of the service she had rendered to her people.

She had a sudden wild urge to tell Faslorn to go to hell. She suppressed it. It would be hugely satisfying, but counterproductive. No, there was no choice in the matter. She must ignore the gnawing emptiness within and aid these engaging monsters in their scheme, at least until she could think her way out of the quandary.

“All right, Faslorn, you skinker! I will keep your secret because I must.”

“Thank you, Victoria. With your help, perhaps we will succeed.”

Faslorn’s apparent sincerity was too much for her. She had reached the point where she could no longer ignore the weakness of the flesh. The frightened little girl locked away deep inside had to be let out. Tory opened the locked door in her mind and let her emotions come gushing forth. She sank to the carpeted deck and succumbed to a storm of wracking sobs. Neither alien moved to comfort her. There was nothing they could do.

#

Hours later, Maratel guided her back to the forward end of the starship. They sat again in the small capsule with nose and snout close together. Again, the odor of cinnamon and paint thinner was overpowering. Only this time, Tory felt none of the
bonhomie
that she had felt on the outward journey. Suddenly, Maratel was no longer an oddly shaped friend. She was as alien as Faslorn had become, an enemy who Tory was being compelled to help.

“You must not think too badly of us,” Maratel said, breaking a silence of many minutes. “You would do the same in our place.”

“Sorry, but I can’t accept that.”

“That isn’t your brain speaking, Tory. It is your heart. I can cite you thousands of incidents in which one group of humans did far worse to another group.”

“That’s our business, not yours.”

“True. I merely point out that we wish your race no harm. We must, however, ensure our own survival.”

Tory thought about it, then nodded. “I suppose I can recognize that intellectually. Still, I can’t help hating you for it.”