spanked its bottom yet. We knew the Navy hadn't been in the Cicero system for several years, so we towed it here until we could figure out what to do with it." He looked proudly at his trophy. "We couldn't put it down on a planet without destroying it, but there's almost no gravity out here."
"Has it got all its weaponry?"
"Yes."
"Operational?" asked Cole.
"Yes. We tested them out just inside Cicero IX to make sure. I assume the screens and shields work too, but they draw their power from the engine."
Cole studied the ship for a long minute.
"I suppose the next step is to hunt up an engine, forge some insignia, get right next to some other Navy ships, and blow them away before they know what hit 'em," said Lafferty.
Cole shook his head. "No, we have a better use for it."
"Better than destroying a few thousand ships?"
"Much better," said Cole. Suddenly he turned to Lafferty. "As of this moment, you are no longer a combatant."
"What am I?" said Lafferty.
"A mechanic. The sole duty of you and any men you need is to get an engine installed in this ship. It doesn't have to be the one that was designed for it, as long as it's powerful enough to run the ship. And you'll need insignia."
"That's what I said," replied Lafferty. "We get an engine and some phony ID, and we start blowing ships away."
"No," said Cole.
"But you just said—"
"You get the engine and the insignia, but then you wait right here for my orders."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Lafferty. "I could kill fifty ships a day with this. We could keep killing them for months before anyone figured out what was happening."
"And once they did," said Cole, "they'd destroy you, and they'd still have three million ships."
"And what do you think you're going to do with this ship?" said Lafferty heatedly.
Cole looked at the ship again.
"Win the war," he answered.
The Teddy R had left the Cicero system far behind, passing one deserted planetary system after another.
"What the hell has gone on here?" asked Briggs as his sensors came up with another lifeless world, its buildings destroyed, its thoroughfares cratered.
"War has gone on here, Mr. Briggs," said Cole, who had found himself driven to the bridge through boredom. "The Teroni didn't leave any bases, because there was nothing here worth fighting for once the Navy pulled out—and the Navy didn't come back and rebuild because there was nothing valuable or interesting enough to keep the Teroni here. The only losers are the people who used to live here."
"Maybe they'll resettle someday," said Rachel Marcos.
Cole shook his head. "There's no infrastructure anymore, and if they build it, there's always a chance the Teronis will come back and destroy it again. We're out in the boonies; clearly the Navy doesn't consider this sector important enough to leave a residual force behind."
"It just doesn't make any sense," she said.
He looked at her youthful, unlined face and thought: How can you be so innocent and uncynical after four years aboard this ship? He suddenly realized that he envied her.
He shook his head as if to clear it of uncomfortable thoughts, then wandered over to where Wxakgini sat high above the floor, his brain connected to the navigational computer, his body connected to the nutrients that kept him alive. The Bdxeni were unique in the galaxy, the only race that never slept, and hence the ideal starship pilots. Cole had never met one with a name he could pronounce.
"How are we doing, Pilot?" he said.
"I don't understand the question," replied Wxakgini, once again omitting "sir" as a protest against Cole never calling him by his name.
"Just making conversation."
"I am pursuing an erratic course with no destination in mind, as per your orders."
Cole stared at the Bdxeni for a moment, wondered how anyone ever held a conversation with him, and then decided that he had a limited perspective on "conversation," that Wxakgini was conversing silently with the computer every minute of
"Has it got all its weaponry?"
"Yes."
"Operational?" asked Cole.
"Yes. We tested them out just inside Cicero IX to make sure. I assume the screens and shields work too, but they draw their power from the engine."
Cole studied the ship for a long minute.
"I suppose the next step is to hunt up an engine, forge some insignia, get right next to some other Navy ships, and blow them away before they know what hit 'em," said Lafferty.
Cole shook his head. "No, we have a better use for it."
"Better than destroying a few thousand ships?"
"Much better," said Cole. Suddenly he turned to Lafferty. "As of this moment, you are no longer a combatant."
"What am I?" said Lafferty.
"A mechanic. The sole duty of you and any men you need is to get an engine installed in this ship. It doesn't have to be the one that was designed for it, as long as it's powerful enough to run the ship. And you'll need insignia."
"That's what I said," replied Lafferty. "We get an engine and some phony ID, and we start blowing ships away."
"No," said Cole.
"But you just said—"
"You get the engine and the insignia, but then you wait right here for my orders."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Lafferty. "I could kill fifty ships a day with this. We could keep killing them for months before anyone figured out what was happening."
"And once they did," said Cole, "they'd destroy you, and they'd still have three million ships."
"And what do you think you're going to do with this ship?" said Lafferty heatedly.
Cole looked at the ship again.
"Win the war," he answered.
The Teddy R had left the Cicero system far behind, passing one deserted planetary system after another.
"What the hell has gone on here?" asked Briggs as his sensors came up with another lifeless world, its buildings destroyed, its thoroughfares cratered.
"War has gone on here, Mr. Briggs," said Cole, who had found himself driven to the bridge through boredom. "The Teroni didn't leave any bases, because there was nothing here worth fighting for once the Navy pulled out—and the Navy didn't come back and rebuild because there was nothing valuable or interesting enough to keep the Teroni here. The only losers are the people who used to live here."
"Maybe they'll resettle someday," said Rachel Marcos.
Cole shook his head. "There's no infrastructure anymore, and if they build it, there's always a chance the Teronis will come back and destroy it again. We're out in the boonies; clearly the Navy doesn't consider this sector important enough to leave a residual force behind."
"It just doesn't make any sense," she said.
He looked at her youthful, unlined face and thought: How can you be so innocent and uncynical after four years aboard this ship? He suddenly realized that he envied her.
He shook his head as if to clear it of uncomfortable thoughts, then wandered over to where Wxakgini sat high above the floor, his brain connected to the navigational computer, his body connected to the nutrients that kept him alive. The Bdxeni were unique in the galaxy, the only race that never slept, and hence the ideal starship pilots. Cole had never met one with a name he could pronounce.
"How are we doing, Pilot?" he said.
"I don't understand the question," replied Wxakgini, once again omitting "sir" as a protest against Cole never calling him by his name.
"Just making conversation."
"I am pursuing an erratic course with no destination in mind, as per your orders."
Cole stared at the Bdxeni for a moment, wondered how anyone ever held a conversation with him, and then decided that he had a limited perspective on "conversation," that Wxakgini was conversing silently with the computer every minute of
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