The Voyage of the Star Wolf (15 page)

“So that's what you look like, you son of a bitch—”

The image swelled in front of him, and swelled and swelled again. The
Dragon Lord
wasn't a starship. She was a city. She was a monster. She was a wall of guns and torpedo bays.

And I thought to challenge that
?

The knot of doubt began in Korie's belly, began creeping up toward his throat—

He cleared the image in his helmet, hoping to escape—

But the gigantic ship was already
here
. It filled the universe in front of him. It blazed with light and glory. Korie was caught with vertigo and fear. He felt as if he were looking down on a cityscape from a great height and at any moment, he might tumble headlong into it. His rifle was forgotten in his hands. His ship was forgotten. The torpedoes and the remote on his belt—

“Holy buffalo shit. Look at all the fucking Indians.” That was Hodel's voice. Korie blinked and realized that his acting exec was quoting the punch line of an old joke. What were Custer's last words? The reference was appropriate—and it was enough to shock Korie out of his horrified reverie.

Are they going to demand our surrender
? he wondered.

His own doubt answered him.
Why bother? We're useless to them. We have nothing they could want. Oh, Lord—I really miscalculated this one.

“Any signals?”

“No, sir. Nothing. They're just looking us over. They're hitting us with a lot of heavy-duty scans. I don't think we have any secrets anymore.”

“Agree.”

What are they waiting for? Why not just blast us and be done
?

“Should we . . .?” Hodel started to ask.

“No. If they wanted to destroy us, they'd have done it already.” Korie gulped and swallowed hard. “Let's not start anything. They've got all their guns trained on us. If I farted sideways, they'd shred us in an instant.”

Oh, God, I'm so stupid. I should have known we didn't stand a chance.

What are they waiting for
?

And then Korie did something he never thought he would ever do again.

He prayed.

Oh, Lord—whoever or whatever you are—I know you must exist, because of the beauty and order of this universe. Please forgive me my blasphemies and hear this desperate plea. Please save the lives of these good men and women who trusted me, who put their faith in my judgment and their souls in my hands. They deserve better than this terrible and lonely death, here in the desolate rift of night. Please, Lord, please—

“Mr. Korie—?”

“What?”

“They're moving—”

“What?!”

“They're turning.”

Korie looked across the gulf to the great wall of metal and ceramic and plastic and saw that it was true. Hodel was right. The great flame-streaked ship was moving. It was turning. Majestically, its great head came swinging around as it oriented itself toward a new course.

The gigantic painted head of the ship was facing him now. Korie stared into the mouth of the dragon. It was all missile tubes. He could
imagine them firing all at once—how many? Fifty? Five hundred? These were the teeth of the dragon—Korie felt as if he was tumbling into its mouth.

“They're moving off—”

The mouth of the
Dragon
continued to expand in front of Korie—and then it passed over him, moved silently over his head. He looked up at its endless belly, awestruck. He turned to watch the great ship as it moved away, looked after it as it shrank into the distance, receding to a bright point of light.

What was happening? Why didn't they—
?

“Everybody hold your positions—” he said.

“What's happening?” Hodel's voice.

“I don't know—”
Oh, my God. Yes, I do.
“Uh—I think they saw our missiles. I think they recognized that it was a Mexican standoff.” He couldn't believe he was saying it even as the words came out of his mouth.

Will they believe it
? Korie wondered.
They have to
, he told himself, desperately. He knew that he was only moments away from a quivering nervous reaction. He wondered if he was going to be able to get back inside the ship before it hit.

He started working his way slowly back toward the airlock.

I've looked into the dragon's face. I know. The dragon wouldn't back away from a challenge. They didn't back away from this one. There wasn't any challenge here for them.

Korie knew what had happened. His throat was tight; his chest was constricted; he felt as if he couldn't breathe.

Li had given the dragon the finger. Li had insulted the dragon. In return . . . the dragon had insulted Li's ship.

It looked us over and decided we weren't worth killing. The ultimate Morthan insult: “I don't want your blood on my sword.”

As he floated past the fluctuator spine, HARLIE's voice whispered in his ear. “Mr. Korie. Private discussion?” Korie glanced at his monitors. HARLIE had sealed the channel; they wouldn't be overheard.

“Go ahead, HARLIE.”

“I believe your analysis of the situation may be inaccurate.”

“In what way?”

“It is obvious to me that the analogy of a ‘Mexican standoff' is inappropriate to this situation. We had no chance at all of damaging the
Dragon Lord
.”

“Agreed.”

“Then why did you tell the crew that we did?”

“I thought we were going to be killed, HARLIE. I was certain of it. I could not see any way for us to survive.”

“That was my analysis too.”

Korie stopped himself at the aft airlock, but made no move to enter. He looked up beyond the curve of hull toward the mindless stars. “So I thought about ways to die. And—all I could think was that I didn't want us to die a coward's death. I knew we didn't stand a chance. I never believed we could even hit them, but I knew we had to go down fighting—”

“I understood that part too.”

“And then at the last moment, I flinched. I didn't want to die. I didn't want the crew to die. I didn't want the ship destroyed. I prayed to God to let us live.”

“That is understandable too, but that is not my question, Mr. Korie.”

“I know what your question is, HARLIE—I'm trying to answer it. They let us go. We're not worth killing. Li gave them the finger; they gave it back to us. They said, ‘So what?' They came in close to show us—to show
me
—how big they were, how invulnerable they were, how puny and infinitesimal we were in comparison. They want us to know that. They want us to go home demoralized, telling everybody that the Morthans are bigger and stronger and smarter.

“Can you imagine what that would do to this crew? We wouldn't be able to hold our heads up in public. We'd be a disgrace not only to ourselves, but to our whole species. And our guys are smart. They'd figure it out long before we got home what kind of reputation this ship is going to have, and the shame that her crew would share.

“After everything we've been through, this crew deserves better. I'll lie to them, yes, to protect their confidence and self-esteem. We can't lose our spirit now; we'd lose our need to survive. It's at least four months from here to Stardock. Do you think we could make it with a crew that didn't care anymore? Yes, HARLIE, I lied. I lied to save them. It's a terrible lie, but I couldn't think of a way to tell the truth that would ease the terrible shame. I couldn't find a victory in it without lying. I made a promise to Captain Lowell that I wouldn't lie to this crew and I have broken it over and over and over. It just keeps getting deeper. But I don't know what else to do. I need you to back me up, HARLIE.”

“I can't lie, Mr. Korie.”

“You said you could to ensure the survival of this ship. Well, this is a survival issue.”

“The morale of the crew is a survival issue?”

“It always has been.”

“I see. You have given me a moral dilemma.”

“It isn't the first time. The HARLIE series is supposed to be very good at moral dilemmas.”

“Creating them, not solving them.”

“Sorry, that's my job.”

“Mr. Korie, I must advise you that the dilemma this situation will cause me may further impair my ability to function as a useful member of the crew.”

“I understand that. Do you understand the necessity?”

“I do not share the same experience of human emotions, Mr. Korie, so I cannot understand the necessity for this fiction. It is a problem in human dynamics; I can only understand it as an equation in an intellectual context, and as such, I do not see the same problem with the truth that you do. We have survived. Isn't that victory enough?”

“Trust me, HARLIE. Mere survival is never enough. That's just existence. People need to succeed. People need to feel good about themselves.”

“Mr. Korie—will you help me then? Please make this a direct order.”

Korie considered the request. “Yes, I understand your need. This is no longer a request. Consider it a direct order.”

“Thank you.”

“Mm,” said Korie. “Thank you.” He pressed the panel to open the airlock hatch and pulled himself into the ship. But as he did, one terrible stunning question hit him right in the middle of his soul.

We're still alive! Did God hear me
?

He turned and looked back out at the emptiness.

Thank you,
he whispered in his mind. And wondered . . .
am I talking to myself again
?

Korie entered the Bridge to applause and cheers.

Embarrassed, he held up a hand to cut it off. “Belay that.” He took a breath and looked around. The expectant looks on the faces of the crew disturbed him. They were so
exhilarated
.

“Um,” he said. He plucked his headset from the command chair and put it on. He spoke to the whole crew of the
LS-1187
now. “You did good. All of you. And I'm proud of you and proud to be on the same ship with you. But the celebration is a little premature. We're not out of this yet. There are other Morthan ships in these woods, and they may not be as smart as the
Dragon Lord
. So, let's keep to our original plan. Chief Leen, power up the mass-drivers. Let's start home.”

He could hear the cheering throughout the ship.

“Uh, sir—?” Hodel floated forward. He was holding something behind his back. “Um, the crew—we have a gift for you. We were going to wait till we got home to give it to you, but well—we think now is a better time.” He brought out a large flat box and pushed it toward Korie.

“Huh?” Korie was startled. So much was happening so fast. He fumbled open the box. Inside was a captain's cap and a jacket. Korie grabbed the cap and held it under one arm. The jacket floated up out of the box—Korie grabbed it, letting the box drift away.

“Turn it around. Look at the back.”

It said: C
APTAIN
J.T. K
ORIE
.

And below that: LS-1187.

“Put it on,” Hodel said.

For just a single heartbeat, Korie was tempted; but then he stopped himself and said, “No. Not yet. Captain Lowell is still captain of this ship. Um—I'm really flattered and—moved. This—” Korie found himself unable to put the words together; the flood of emotion was welling up inside of him. He wiped quickly at one eye. “Let me wait until it's official, and then I'll wear it proudly. But, I thank you all very much for this. I, uh—I can't think of any gift that could mean more.” He grabbed for the box and tried to fold the jacket and cap back into it, but without the help of gravity, it was an uneasy business.

Finally, he just held the box and jacket and cap pinned under one arm and looked embarrassed. “Uh, this is still a starship. And we're still a long way from home. Let's not lose our discipline now—”