 CHAPTER XI. The news as Boers got it from the men of Deccan was remarkable for two reasons—that so much of it was true, and that all of it was glamorized and romanticized and garbled. It was astonishing to find any relation at all between such fabulously romantic tales and the facts, because there was no way for news to travel between solar systems except on ships, and no ships had carried stories like these. Here on Deccan the shining-eyed young man knew that Boers had landed on Tralee and on Garen. They knew that there was a fleet in being which had fought and annihilated a Mekinese task force many times its size. To the captain their knowledge was undiluted catastrophe. They admired Boers because they believed he commanded that fleet, which he now had in hiding while he flashed splendidly about the subjugated worlds, performing prodigious feats of valor and destruction, half pirate and half hero. The story had it that he'd been driven from his native Tralee by the invaders, and that now he fought Mekin in magnificent night errantry, and that it was he who'd set alight the flame of rebellion on so many worlds. Boers listened and was numbed. He heard references to the fight off Meridan and the temporary escape of one of his enemies, and that he'd pursued it to the solar system of Mekin itself, and there destroyed it while Mekin watched helpless to interfere. The distortion of facts was astounding, but the mere existence of facts at this distance was impossible. Then Boers found himself thinking that these tales sounded like fantasies or daydreams, and he went white. Just before he'd left the fleet, he talked to a fat woman and a scowling man, who, together, made up the talents-incorporated, brand-new department for disseminating truthful, seditious rumors, so that rumors of a high degree of detail got started. Nobody knew how. If such rumors spread and everybody heard them, nobody would doubt them. It was appallingly probable that the fighting on Cassus and Avino and Deccan had no greater justification in reason than that an enormously fat woman romantically pictured such things as resulting from the daring do of one Captain Boers, of whom she thought sentimentally and glamorously and without much discrimination. But she daydreamed about the fleet, too, and that it had destroyed a Mekini squadron many times its size. He heard the leader of the young men from Deccan speaking humorously. "'Your revolt, sir,' he told Boers, "'is spreading everywhere. On sea, sir, there are great spaceship yards where they build craft for the Mekini's Navy. Not long ago they finished one and it went out to space for a trial run. It didn't come back. Sabotage. Everybody knew it. The Mekini's raged. A little while later they finished another ship. But the Mekini's were smart. They sent it off for its trial run with only sea-lands on board. If there were sabotage this time, it wouldn't be Mekini's who died in space. But that ship didn't come back either. It touched down here, sir, three weeks ago, and we supplied it with food and missiles and some of us joined it. It went off to try to find you. "'I'd better go after it,' said Boers, dry-throated. It could blunder into trouble. At best the youthful leader of Deccan's revolt grinned widely. "'It's got plenty of missiles,' he told Boers. "'It can take care of itself, and it has plenty of food. We even gave them target balloons to practice launching missiles on. We've been storing up missiles to lay in ambush for a Mekini squadron if one comes by. A lot of us joined the ship, though.' "'In any case,' said Boers, with the feel of ashes in his throat, "'I'll track it down so it can join the fleet.' He could not bring himself to tell these confident and admiring young men that there was no hope and never had been, that the tales of his achievements were only partly true, and that they popped into people's minds because a very fat woman far away indulged in daydreams and fantasies. They wouldn't have understood. If they had, they wouldn't have believed. He found that he savagely resisted the conviction himself. But there was no other way for such garbled tales with such a substratum of fact to be spread among the stars. And whoever spread them knew of events up to the last news sent back by Boers, but nothing after that. Undoubtedly, talents incorporated's Department for Disseminating Truthful Seditious Rumors had been at work on Mekin, but the damage done elsewhere was a thousand times greater than any benefit done there. It was too late to repair the damage here or anywhere else. This planet and all the rest were far too committed to rebellion ever to be forgiven by Mekin. Mekin would take revenge. It was not pleasant to think about. So the Horus departed, and travelled in high-speed overdrive for ship days seemingly without end toward Glamis. It knew nothing that happened outside its own cocoon of overdrive field. It knew nothing of any of the thousands of myriads of stars whose planetary systems offered unlimited room for humanity to live in freedom and without fear. During the journey Boers only endured being alive. All this disaster was ultimately his fault. The fleet's survival was due to his work with talents incorporated. The raids of a single ship, which now would have such disastrous results, were the fruits of his suggestion, the consequence of his actions. Talents incorporated was involved to be sure, but only because he'd allowed it to be. He should have realized that Madame Porvis would work havoc if her talent was as described. No mere romantic daydreamer would fashion fantasies with military secrecies in mind and security as a principle. Everything was betrayed. Everything was ruined. And if he, Boers, had only been properly skeptical, the fleet would have been destroyed, and Kandar now occupied by the Mekinese, came to servitude, but not necessarily to annihilation, and other worlds would also be safely servile. They'd still be resentful, and they'd bitterly hate Mekin, but they would not have before them the monstrous vengeance now in store. Boers, in fact, felt guilty because he was still alive. There was only one small thing he could still try to set aright. He could insist that Morgan take Gwendolyn far away from the dangerous possibility that Mekin might somehow find her. He had to make Morgan see the need for it. If necessary, he would convince King Humphrey that a royal order must be issued to send the Silva light centuries away, before the Mekinese Empire began to restore itself to devastated calm if that process hadn't already begun. Morgan had its grand fleet assembled and ready. If convincing and unfortunately truthful rumors ran about Mekin, as elsewhere, concerning the fleet and Boers' attempts to hide it, then their dictator need only give a single order and the grand fleet would lift off. When it found Kandar unoccupied, it would leave Kandar dead. Then it would seek out the fleet and destroy it. And then it would move from one to another of its rebellious tributaries and take revenge upon them. And Boers could only hope to salvage the life of one girl from the wreckage of everything that human beings prefer to believe in. He could only hope to send Gwendolyn away, if he was not already too late. The Horus broke out into normal space twelve days after leaving Deccan. The untrustworthy son of Glamis still shone brightly. The inner planet revolved about it with one side glowing low red to heat, and the other side piled high with frozen atmosphere. The useless outer planet remained a lush green, safe for its seas. And the fleet still circled it from pole to pole. Boers had himself ferry to the flagship by spaceboat, because what he had to report was too disheartening to be spoken where all the fleet might hear. Gwendolyn met him at the flagship's airlock. He looked very glad, as if she'd been uneasy about him. "'Call for a boat,' Boers commanded her curtly. "'To take you to the sylva. Go on board with anybody else who belongs on it. Your father, anybody. I'm going to ask the king to insist that the sylva get away from here fast, before the meek and ease turn up.' Gwendolyn shook her head, her eyes searching his face. "'The sylva's not here. Let's go on to Kandar as a sort of dispatch boat.'" Boers groaned. "'Then I'll try to get another ship assigned to take you away,' he said, formidably. Maybe one of the captured cargo ships I sent back." "'No,' said Gwendolyn. They're going to be released. They'll go to Meekin, and we couldn't go there.' Boers groaned again. Then he said, savagely, "'Wait here for me. I'll arrange something as soon as I've seen the king.'" He strode down the corridor to King Humphrey's cabin. A sentry came to attention. Boers passed through the door. The king and half a dozen of the top-ranking officers of the fleet were listening apathetically to Morgan, at once vexed and positive and uncertain. "'But you can't ignore it,' protested Morgan. "'I don't understand it either. You'll agree that since my pre-recognizer said no ship but Boers' is coming here, and he pre-recognized every one of the prizes before they arrived, you'll concede that the Meekinese aren't coming here, so you're going out to meet them.'" He saw Boers and breathed an audible sigh of relief. "'Boers,' he said in a changed tone, "'I'm glad you're back.'" Boers said grimly. "'Majesty, I very bad news.'" King Humphrey shrugged. He spoke in a listless voice. "'I doubt it differs from ours. You captured a passenger liner off Meekin, you will remember. You sent it here. When it arrived we found that all its passengers knew that Kandar was not occupied, and that the fleet sent to capture it had not reported back." "'My news is worse,' said Boers. The continued existence of our fleet, and the fact that it defeated a Meekinese force, is common knowledge on at least five planets, all of them now in revolt against Meekin.'" The King's expression had reached the limit of reaction to disaster. It did not change. He looked almost apathetic. "'Meekin,' he said, dully, sent a second squadron to Kandar to investigate the rumors of defeat. We have a very tiny force there, three ships. Of course, our ships won't attack the Meekinese, but they might as well. Knowing that we destroyed their first fleet and that we still live, Meekin will assuredly retaliate." "'And not only on Kandar,' said Boers, on Tralee, and Garen, and Cassus, and Meridon.'" When interrupted, "'Majesty, all this is more reason to listen to me. I have been telling you that all my talents agree,' King Humphrey interrupted tonelessly. "'We've made our final arrangements, Boers. We are going to release the cargo ships and the passenger ship you sent us. We will use them as messengers. We are going to send a message of surrender to Meekin.'" Boers swallowed. His most dismal forebodings had produced nothing more hopeless than this moment. "'Majesty, we have to sacrifice,' said the King in a leaden voice. Not only our lives, but our self-respect, to try to gain something less than the total annihilation of Kandar. We shall tell the Meekinese that we will return to Kandar and form up in space. If they send a small force to accept our surrender, they shall have it. If they prefer to destroy us, they can do that also. But we submit ourselves to punishment for having resisted the original fleet. We admit our guilt, and we beg Meekin not to avenge that resistance upon our people, who are not guilty." Boers tried to speak, and could not. Kandar was a sodden, utterly unresilient stillness in the room, as if all the high officers of the fleet were corpses, and the King himself, though he spoke, was not less dead. Then Morgan moved decisively. He moved away from the spot where he had been engaged in impassioned argument. He took Boers by the arm and hustled him through the door. "'Come along,' he said urgently, "'something's got to be done. You have the knack of thinking of things to do. The King's intentions!' The door closed behind him, and he broke off. He wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand, while he thrust Boers on with the other. They came to a cabin evidently assigned to him. Gwenlyn waited there. "'Craziness,' said Morgan bitterly, "'craziness! I get the finest group of talents that ever existed. I teach them to think. I instruct them. And they can't think of what is going to happen. And everything depends on it. Everything!' "'When will the Sylva be back?' demanded Boers. Morgan automatically looked at his watch. Gwenlyn opened her mouth to speak. Morgan shook his head impatiently. Gwenlyn was silent. "'My ship arrival talents with the Sylva,' said Morgan harrassedly. He sent him to Kandar to find out of the Mekinese fleets coming there, and when? It wasn't coming here. He said so. "'It'll go to Kandar,' said Boers bitterly, "'to destroy it. I imagine we'll go there, too, to be destroyed.' "'But it's insane!' protested Morgan. "'Look! You captured a passenger ship off Mekin, right?' "'Yes.' "'You sent it here with all its passengers, right?' "'Yes.'" One of the passengers said he was a clairvoyant. "'Ha!' Morgan expressed the ultimate of disgust. He was a fortune-teller. He didn't know there was anything better than that. A fortune-teller. But he's a talent. He's a born charlatan. But he's an authentic talent. And he doesn't know what that is. He thinks predictions, as Madame Porvis thinks scandals, and they're just as crazy. But he is a talent, and they have to be right.' "'Boers said, "'You're going to take Gwendolyn away from here, and fast.'" Morgan paid no attention. He was embittered and agitated, and in particular he was frustrated. "'It's all madness!' He protested almost hysterically. "'Here we've got a firm precognition that King Humphrey's going to open parliament on Kandar next year. And there's another one.' Gwendolyn said quickly, "'Which you won't tell.'" "'Which I won't tell. But something's got to happen. Something's got to be done. And this crazy talent gives me a crazy precognition and looks proud because I can't make sense of it. What the hell can you make out of a precognition that Meakin will be defeated when an enemy fleet submits to destruction, lying still in space? There's no sense to it. My talents wouldn't think of anything idiotic like that. They've got better sense. But when this lunatic said it, they could precognize it, too. It's so. They couldn't think of it themselves, but when this Meakinese talent does, they know it's true. But it can't be!' Bore said coldly, "'The fleet's going to be destroyed, certainly. If that will defeat Meakin. But Gwendolyn is not to stay aboard to be destroyed with it. How are you going to get her away?' "'The king's waiting for the silver to come back,' Morgan said indignantly. So he'll know, my ship-arrival talent went to find out, if the Meakin fleet's going to Kandar, and when. He insists that if they know the fleet exists, they know where it is and will come here looking for it. But Madame Porvis couldn't have told that in her day-dreaming. She didn't know what planet was circling. She couldn't have spread that fact by contagion.' "'She spread plenty more,' said Bore's. Her day-dreams were too damn true.' Gwendolyn said, "'It's a contradiction in terms for a fleet to win a battle by letting itself be destroyed. Perhaps the captain—' "'It's also a contradiction in terms,' said Bore's bitterly, "'for all our troubles to come because we want a victory. Now we regret that we weren't all killed. But it's madness for the king to propose to get us all slaughtered in hope of rousing the Meakinese better nature.' "'Maybe you can resolve it, Captain,' said Gwendolyn thoughtfully. Could it be that it isn't a contradiction but only a paradox?' Bore spread his hands helplessly. Of all times and circumstances, this particular moment and situation seemed the least occasion for quibbling over words. Then he said, "'Yes, it could be a paradox. If this prediction by that wild talent is true, there is a way it could win a fight. I don't believe it, but I'm going to put something in motion. Nothing can make matters worse.' He turned and strode back to the council room, where King Humphrey and the high commanders of his fleet sat like dead men, waiting for the moment to be killed, to no purpose. CHAPTER XII. Bore's got nowhere, of course. His proposal had all the earmarks of lunacy of the purest Ray Serene. He proposed urgently to equip all the ships of the fleet with a low power overdrive fields. It could be done in days. Instructions were already distributed and would have been studied and understood. The fleet would then go to Kandar, if it appeared that the Mekinese Grand Fleet would go there, and set up a dummy fleet of target globes in war array. This would be a fleet, but not of fighting ships. It would be a fleet of metal foil inflated balloons. One actual fighting ship he stipulated would form part of this illusory space navy. He volunteered the horrors for it. That ship would signal to the Mekinese when they arrived. It would make the King's proposal to surrender on the Mekinese promise to spare the civilian population of Kandar. If the enemy admiral agreed to these terms and the King believed him, then the true Kandarian fleet could appear and yield to its overwhelmingly powerful enemy. If the admiral arrogantly refused to pledge safety to Kandar's population, then the dummy formation might be destroyed, but the fleet would fight. Hopelessly and uselessly, though the new low-power drive worked well in action, but it would fight. The first admiral said stonely, If I were in the position of the Mekinese admiral and I agreed to terms of capitulation, and if it were then shown to me that the basis of the terms was a deceit, I would not feel bound by my promise. When the actual fleet appeared, I would blast it for questioning my honour. Bors looked at him with hot eyes. The King said drearily, No, Bors, we must act in good faith. We cannot question the Mekinese good faith as you propose, and then expect them to believe in ours. The admiral is right. We can fight and bring destruction on our people, or we can place ourselves at the mercy of Mekin. There can be only one choice. We sacrifice ourselves, but we keep our honour. I deny, said Bors savagely, that any man keeps his honour who enslaves his fellows as you will do in surrendering. I resign my commission in your service, Majesty. King Humphrey nodded wearily. Very well, you have served us admirably, Bors. I wish I thought you were right in this matter. I would rather follow your advice than my convictions. Your resignation is accepted. An hour later, fuming, Bors paced back and forth across the floor of a cabin in the flagship. The pretender of Tralee entered. The older man looked wryly amused. It was a most improper thing to do. You resigned your commission, and then ordered the low-power fields built on all ships. To the contrary, said Bors, I spread the news that I had resigned my commission because the low-power fields were not to be installed to give us a fighting chance. The pretender sat down and regarded his nephew quizzically. But is it so important to use tables of calculations instead of computers? Yes, said Bors, it is important. I should know. I have used the low-power fields in combat. Nobody else has. The old man said without reproof, The first admiral is indignant. The fields were not ordered on the ground that they're an untested device, and that at least once such a field blew out, leaving your ship the Isis so helpless that it had to be abandoned. True, agreed Bors, he made no defense. The attitude of the first admiral would have been perfectly logical in ordinary times. Anything like the new intermediate low-power overdrive field should have been proposed through channels, examined by a duly appointed commission of officers, reported on, the report evaluated, and then painstaking and lengthy tests made, and the report on the tests evaluated. Then it should have been submitted to another commission of officers of higher rank, who would estimate the kind and amount of modification of standard equipment the new device required, its susceptibility to accident and or obsolescence, the ease of repair, the cost of installation, and the length of time in port required to install it. Somewhere along the line there should also have been a report on the ease with which it could be integrated into other apparatus and standard operational procedures, and there should have been reports on its possible tactical value, the probable number of times it would be useful, the degree of its utility, and whether the excessive discomfort of going into and out of overdrive at extremely short intervals would have an adverse effect on crew morale. Under normal circumstances a ship might have been equipped for testing purposes in six to ten years, and in ten years more all new ships might be equipped. But it would be well over a generation before its use was general. The older man said, Since your resignation's been accepted, you'll be put on the silver when it comes back. You won't be taken to Kandar with the fleet. Bors' hands clenched. They'll say I resign to stay out of the fight. No, said his uncle mildly. They'll say you resign to avoid surrender. I'm being evicted with you. I am to be dumped on the hospitality of your friend Morgan, too. Humphrey is a very kindly man, abominably so. But I am tired of being an exile. I'd really rather stay with the fleet. But he stands on his dignity to preserve our lives. I'm not sure what for, in a universe where such things as Meakin can happen. They happen, growled Bors, because we value peace and quiet as much as the Meakinese do power, and much less than freedom. We compromise. He paced up and down. Up to now, he said harshly, Every effort made against Meakin has been defensive. Twenty-two worlds in turn have fallen because they only wanted to stop Meakin. It's time for some world to resolve very solidly to smash Meakin, to act with honest anger against a thing that should be hated. It's got to be done. The time for such a resolution, said his uncle gently, went by long ago. There was sudden voice from the compartment speaker. CONTACT! There was the hissing sound of doors closing. The peculiarly muffled silence of a closed compartment fell. The pretender said quietly, If this is the Meakinese fleet, everything is solved. But your friends of Talents Incorporated will have to be wrong. They insist the Grand Fleet will not come here. Boris rasped. I wish I were in that control room. But at least we've got missiles they can't intercept. Accept that they won't be fired. They're a great improvement, the pretender said mildly. He sat at ease. Time passed. Presently the tiny compartment air refresher hummed, bringing down the CO2 content of the air. It cut off. Boris paced up and down, up and down. He pictured what might be happening outside. It could be that the Grand Fleet of Meakin had appeared, and now drove proudly toward Glamis. It could be that the fleet was offering surrender. There would be near-mutiny on many of its ships. There would be monumental frustration. Junior officers in particular would have examined the low-power overdrive tables and would have studied longingly the reports of Boris's use of low-power overdrive against an enemy squadron off Meridan. They would yearn passionately to have their ships equipped with apparatus, by which it could vanish from a place where it was a target, to reappear elsewhere, unharmed, and make the enemy its target. Two fleets equipped with the new device might checkmate each other. But one fleet. The speaker said curtly, Captain Boris, a single ship has broken out of overdrive. It identifies itself as the ship Liberty of Sela. It declares that it has come to place itself under your command. Boris stared. He had forgotten about the two Sela-built ships which the Deccan rebels told him about, the first of which had gone on a trial run with the Meakinese crew and failed to return, and the second of which, with a sealant crew, had gone off to look for Boris and his marauders. Somehow it had found him. It seemed totally improbable. Boris instantly thought of talents incorporated. The talents on the ship had spread rebellion on worlds unthinkable distances apart. It was conceivable that in some way they brought this ship to Glamis. Very well, said Boris coldly, in the cabin to which he was confined, I request to be put on board. I'll come with you, said his uncle. He smiled at Boris, who noted, but was not surprised at, the genuineness of the smile. This is the ship you mentioned as hoping to emulate the Horus. I don't think you'll surrender it, but I've surrendered once and I don't like it. I'd rather not do it again. Compartment doors went back to normal as combat alert went off. Morgan appeared, agitated, and upset. What's this? he demanded. What's happened? Boris told him curtly as much as he knew, all that he'd been told on Deccan. It was the only ship technically in actual rebellion against Meakin. It had heard rumors of Boris, and it wanted his leadership. But you can't go now, insisted Morgan. You've got to wait until the Silva gets back. You have to have talents incorporated information to act on. You need my talents. I'm going to get moving as fast as I can, said Boris. I don't think we can wait. If the Liberty's what I think, and her crew what I believe, they'll crave action. There was a space boat at the flagship's lock. Boris and his uncle entered. Those already in the boat were young men in the nondescript clothing of ship workers. They grinned proudly at Boris when he took his seat. I don't know whether you know, sir, said the young man at the space boat's controls. But we heard about your revolt, sir, and we were about at the limit, so we—I stopped at Deccan, Boris said briefly. They told me about you. Do you want action against Meakin? Yes, sir! It was a chorus. You'll get it, said Boris. I'll try you out on a concentration of Meakin ships that should be turning up at Kandar. How are you equipped for repairs and changes? We left Sela for a test trip, sir, said the young man at the controls. There were grins behind him. He chuckled. Naturally, we had materials to repair anything that went wrong on a trial run. I've got some new settings for missiles, said Boris, which make them hard to dodge. We'll want to set up a special overdrive control, which makes it easy to dodge Meakinese ones. We can attend to it on the way to Kandar. How many aboard? He asked other curt questions. They answered. What Boris asked was what a commanding officer would need to know about a new ship, and his new followers realized it. They had been exultant and triumphant when he entered the space boat. In the brief time needed to get to the liberty, they became ardently confident. His reception was undisciplined, but enthusiastic. He made a hurried inspection. The liberty had started out with a skeleton crew of shipyard workers and no stores or arms. The ranks were now filled with volunteers from Deccan and elsewhere, and its storage rooms fairly bulged with foodstuffs. Boris, however, really relaxed only once. That was when he saw the filled racks of missiles. On Deccan they'd been lavish in their gifts to the rebel spaceship. Boris went into the control room, glanced about, and spoke crisply into the all-speaker microphone. All hands, attention! Boris speaking! A concentration of Meakinese ships is expected at Kandar. We shall head for that planet immediately. On the way, I shall arrange for some changes in the settings of the missiles we have on board. We will fix and distribute aiming tables for their use. We will stop twice on the way for target practice. Much more than your lives or mine depends on how well you do your work. We'll also modify the overdrive to make this ship able to do everything my other ships did and more. You will work much harder on the way to Kandar than you ever worked before, but we have to accomplish more than usual. That's all. He stood by while the ship was aimed for Kandar. The young astrogator said enthusiastically, Prepare for overdrive! Five, four, three! A voice came out of a speaker. Calling Liberty! Calling Liberty! Morgan calling Liberty! Hold it, said Boris. He answered the call. Morgan's voice in a high state of agitation. Boris, the syllabus just back! Just broke out! The grand fleet will get to Kandar in five days, four hours, twenty minutes. My talent on the silver is sure of it. Its talents incorporated information. We haven't any time to spare, then, said Boris. Boris! panted Morgan's voice. There were three ships of our fleet hanging about on watch for Mekinese. They expected one. Twelve came. The observation ships attacked. They got eleven of the twelve. The last one went into overdrive and got away. Boris, do you see what that means? It means, said Boris coldly, that Mekin won't be accepting surrenders this week. Destroying the first division was bad enough. I got one off Meridan. Now that a third squadron's wiped out, Mekin will insist on somebody getting punished, and plenty. All right, we're leaving for Kandar now. He nodded to the young man at the control board. He noted with approval that he'd kept the Liberty's aim exact while Boris talked to Morgan. Proceed, Boris ordered. The young man said, five, four, three, two, one! There was the familiar dizzying sensation of going into overdrive. The Liberty wrapped stressed space about itself and went hurtling into invisibility. This was one voyage in overdrive which was not tedious. Boris had to organize the ship for combat. He had to train launching crews to work like high-speed machinery. He had to teach the setting of missiles for ranges he had to show how to measure. Once he stopped the ship between stars and the launching crews took shots at inflated metal foil target. The pretender of Tralee displayed an unexpected gift for organization. He divided all space outside the ship into sectors, assigning one launcher to each sector. If in order to fire came, the separate crews would cover targets in their own areas first. There would be no waste of missiles on one target. The pretender would have made an excellent officer. He was patient with those who did not understand immediately. He had dignity that was not arrogance. In five days the Liberty was a fighting ship and a dedicated one. There were rough edges, of course. Man for man and weapon for weapon the ship would not compare with a longer-trained and more experienced fighting instrument. But the morale on board was superb and the weapons were, to put it mildly, inspiring of hope. The Liberty broke out of overdrive and the sun of Kandar shone fiery yellow in emptiness. The gas giant planet had moved in its orbit. It was more evenly in line than before with a direct arrival path for a fleet from Meakin. Bors was worn out from his unremitting efforts to turn the ship into a smooth-running unit. He looked at the ship's clock. The Meakinese, he said over the all-speaker circuit, will break out in two hours forty minutes, and we're going to set up a dummy fleet for them to deal with. His uncle said gently, I suggest some rest to be fresh for the handling of the ship. I'll set up the dummy fleet. Bors resisted the idea, but it was not sensible to humor his own vanity by insisting on his indispensability. He flung himself down on a bunk. He was much better satisfied with the ship and crew than he would have admitted, and he was dead tired. Around him the young men of Sila and Deccan prepared target globes for launching. The pretender gently pointed out that the formation was to remain perfectly still and in ranks. Therefore each globe had to be launched with no velocity at all, so it would remain in fixed position with relation to the others, too convincingly appear to be a fleet of ships. Far away the Silva hurtled through space with a much agitated Morgan on board. Gwendolyn too was frightened. For the first time both of them seemed doubtful of the value of talents incorporated information. Again, far away, the fleet of Kandar rushed through emptiness. On its various ships junior officers had come threateningly close to mutiny. There was now a sullen, resigned submission to discipline and what orders might be given, but the fleet was fighting angry. The Silva had brought back news of a third defeat of Mekinese by Kandar ships and hot blood long to make a full-scale test of its own deadliness. There were few ships of the fleet which did not have a low-power overdrive field unit ready to be spliced into circuit if the occasion arose. If the King could not make acceptable terms for surrender, the junior officers were prepared to make a victory by Mekin of very costly matter. Stretched out on his bunk, Bors thought of all these things. Finally, he slept and dreamed. It was odd that anyone so weary should dream. It was more strange that he did not dream of the matters in the forefront of his mind. He dreamed of Gwendolyn. She was crying in the dream and it was because she thought he was killed, and Bors was astonished at her grief and then unbelievably elated. And he moved toward her and she raised her head at some sound he made. The expression of incredulous joy on her face made him put his arms around her with an enormous and unbelieving satisfaction. And he kissed her and the sensation was remarkable. Half awake he blinked at the ceiling of the control room of the Liberty. His uncle was saying amiably to the young man at the control board, that's a very pretty fleet formation, if we do say so ourselves. Bors stood up, one half of his mind still startled by his dream, but the other half reverting instantly to business. But all matters of business had been attended to. Out the viewports he could see the dummy fleet in an apparently defensive formation. Its ships were only miles apart, and if they had been fighting ships, every one could have launched missiles at any point of attack from the pattern they constituted. At a hundred miles they could be seen only as specks of reflected sunlight. At greater distances a radar would identify them only as dots which must be enemy ships because the radar blips they made lack the nimbus of friendly craft. Hmm, said Bors. He looked at the clock. The Mekinese should have broken out five minutes ago. They did, said his uncle. They're yonder. They're heading straight for this fleet. He pointed, not out a port, but at a screen where a boiling mass of bright specks showed the Mekinese fleet just out of overdrive and speeding toward the dummy formation, sorting itself into attack formation as it moved. The king's not here on time, observed Bors grimly. We have to play his hand for him, uncle. We have the right to commit kandar by beginning to fight ourselves. Offer surrender as he'd wished it to be done. If they accept, he can carry out his part when he arrives. He'll be here. The former monarch spoke gently into a beam transmitter. Calling Mekinese fleet, he said. Defending fleet, calling Mekinese fleet. In seconds a reply came back. Mekinese grand admiral calling kandar, the voice answered arrogantly, What do you want? We will discuss capitulation on behalf of kandar, said the old man. Will you give us terms? He grimaced and said aside to Bors. I'm speaking for Humphrey as I know he'd speak, but I am ashamed. There was a pause. It took time for the pretenders voice to reach the enemy and as long for the reply to come back. The reply was ironic and arrogant and amused. What terms can you hope for? It demanded. You attacked our ships. You indulged in destruction. How can you hope for terms? The pretenders scratched his ear thoughtfully. He regarded the radar screen with regret. We ask life for the people of our planet, he said steadily. He was annoyed that he had to speak for the tardy king of kandar. We ask that they not be punished for our resistance. The young men in the control room looked astonished. Then they saw Bors's expression and grinned. A long pause. The boiling, shifting specs on the radar screen began to have a definite order. The Mekinese voice, when it came, was triumphant and overbearing. We will spare your planet, it said contemptuously. But not you. You have dared to fight us. Stand and be destroyed and there will be no punishment for your world. There are no other terms. The pretender looked at Bors. He shrugged. Now what would the king do? He looked puzzled. What can our dummy fleet do? asked Bors. The pretender nodded. We will offer no resistance, he said into the transmitter. There was a long silence. Bors looked at the radar screen. The mass of bright specs at the edge of the screen seemed to have sent a shining wave before it. It was actually a swarm of missiles. They were so far away that they could not be picked up as individuals on the screen. They were a glow, a shine, a wave of pale luminosity. We shift to low-power overdrive readiness, said Bors. That is an order. A ship voice murmured. Low power overdrive in circuit, sir. He watched the screen. The Mekinese missiles accelerated at a terrific rate. They left their parent ships far behind. They were a third of the way to the drone fleet and the liberty before Bors spoke again. Launch and inflate another target globe, he ordered dryly. We could speak for the king since he was late, but we won't stay here to be killed as his proxy, not without fighting first. A voice crisp. Target globe launched, sir. Low power overdrive toward the gas giant planet, one twentieth second. Five, four, three, two, one. There was the unbearable double sensation of going into and break out from overdrive simultaneously. The liberty vanished from its place in the formation of the dummy fleet, but left a metal-foiled dummy where it had been. It reappeared a full five thousand miles away. The rushing missiles now were brighter. They were individual, microscopic specks like stars. They began visibly to converge upon the space occupied by the dummy fleet. They'll be counting the ships, said the pretender mildly, to make sure that all stay for their execution. This would be a tragic sight if it were Humphrey's real fleet. He is just obstinate enough to let himself be killed on the word of a treacherous Mekinese. The cloud of radar blips grew bright and came near. The dummy fleet also appeared on the screens in the liberty's control room. Bors and the others could see the rushing, shining flood of missiles as it poured through space upon the motionless targets. There, Bors pointed, the king's ship's breaking out, away over at the edge. I wonder if the Mekinese will notice. There were very tiny sparkles off at the side of the radar screen. They increased in number. There was a flash, like the sun, brought near for the tenth of a second. Another, yet another. Then an overwhelming spout of brilliance as tens and twenties and fifties of the projectiles went off together. It was an unbelievable sight against the stars. Missiles flamed and shuddered. Missiles flamed and flashed, and there seemed to be an actual sun there, now flashing brighter and now fainter, but intolerably hot and shining. It went out and left a vague and shining vapor behind. Then belated missiles entered it and detonated. Their flares ceased. Then there was nothing where there had seemed to be a fleet. Which, said Bors, is that. Then a voice spoke coldly from space. Connect all speakers for a message in clear, it commanded. Alert all personnel for a general order. There was a pause. The voice spoke again. Spacemen of Mekin, it said, icily. The fleet of Kandar is now destroyed. Kandar itself will be destroyed also, as an example of the consequences of perfidy toward Mekin. But it should be a warning to others who would conspire against our world. Therefore, in part as penalty and in part as a reward to the men of the Grand Fleet, you will be allowed to land during a period of two weeks. You will be armed. You may confiscate, for yourself, anything of value you find. You are not required to exercise restraint in your actions toward the people of Kandar. They will be destroyed with their planet, and no protests from such criminals will be listened to. You will be landed in groups, each on the fresh area of the planet. That is all. There was silence in the control room of the liberty. After a long time, the pretender said very quietly, I will not live while such beasts live. From this moment I will kill them until I am killed. I suspect King Humphrey heard that. Bore said and drew a deep breath. Combat alert! he ordered crisply. We're attacking the Mekinese fleet. Handle your missiles smoothly and don't try to fire while we're in overdrive. We'll be going in and out. Choose your targets and fire as we come out and while I count down. Overdrive .9 seconds. Five, four, three, two, one. The cosmos reeled and stomachs retched when the liberty came out in nine-tenths of a second. She was in the very midst of a concentration of the Mekinese fleet. Missiles streaked away furiously as Bore's counted down. Two-fifth second. Five, four, three, two, one. More missiles shot away. Bore is almost chanted while with gestures toward the radar screen he picked out the objects near which breakout should fall. .05 seconds. The ship went into overdrive and out. It seemed as if the universe dissolved from one appearance to another outside the viewports. Five, four, three, two, one. Hold fire! The liberty came out a good ten thousand miles from its starting point and beyond the area occupied by the enemy fleet. Three thousand miles away a flare burst among the distant stars. A second, a third. Six thousand miles away there were flashings in emptiness. We're doing very well, said Bore's calmly into the all-speaker microphone. A little more care with aiming, though, and read your ranges closer. They're not intercepting our missiles. We're not aiming them right. We try it again now. The universe seemed to reel and one felt queasy, but there was work to be done while a voice chanted. Five, four, three, two, one. Then it reeled again and the same voice continued to chant. Sometimes the crews saw where missiles hit, but they can never be sure they were their own. Then suddenly the number of hits increased. They doubled and tripled and quadrupled. All hands barked Bore's. The fleet of Kandars is waiting into this fight. Be careful to pick your targets. No Kandar ships. Save your missiles for the enemy. Someone, manhandling missiles for faster and more long continued firing than any ship designer ever expected, gasped. Come on, boys, missiles for Mekin! It became a joke which seemed excruciatingly funny at the time. Nobody saw all the battle or even a considerable part. There was a period when the liberty alone fought like the deadliest of gadflies. It appeared in the middle of a Mekini sub-formation, loosed missiles and vanished before anything could be intercepted. There was no target for Mekini's bombs to home on when they got to where the liberty had been. Then the fleet of Kandar appeared. It broke out in single ships and in pairs, and then in groups of fives and tens. The general order for the Mekini's fleet had been picked up, and the fleet of Kandar seemed to have gone mad. The flagship tried to fight in orthodox fashion for a time. It depended on the attraction its missiles had for Mekini's to keep it in space, but presently it was alone, and the battle was raging confusion scattered over light minutes, and somebody went down into the engine room and brazed in a low-power overdrive unit, providentially made by a junior officer, and the flagship of the Kandarian fleet waited in erratically, never knowing where it would come out, but rarely failing to find a Mekini ship to launch at. The third phase of the battle was much more of an open fight, ship against ship, except that more and more Kandarian ships were using low-power overdrive, clumsily and inefficiently, but to the very great detriment of Mekin's grand fleet. The Mekini's officers could not quite grasp that their antagonists were doing the impossible. They became confused. The fourth phase of the battle consisted of mopping up operations in which individual ships were hunted down and destroyed by the simple process of a Kandarian ship seeming to materialize from nowhere a mile or half a mile from an enemy, launching one missile and seeming to dematerialize again and vanish. Very few Mekini ships went into overdrive. Probably most of them didn't believe what was happening. Perhaps four ships out of the entire grand fleet escaped. Later, of course, there was embarrassment all around. King Humphrey VIII landed on Kandar to assure his people that they were no longer in danger. He was embarrassed because he was a victor in spite of himself. The fleet officers were embarrassed because boars had been forced out of the fleet and had literally tricked them into battle. Boars, too, was embarrassed. There was the admiration displayed by junior officers of the fleet. He had become, very unwillingly, a model for young Space Navy officers. They tried to pattern themselves after him in all ways, even to the angle at which they wore their hats. He squirmed when they looked at him with shining-eyed respect. He was embarrassed also by the necessary revelation to the Liberty's crew that he was neither the leader of a rebellion nor in command of a fleet, nor that he had performed quite all the fabulous feats credited to him. He had to explain that he'd only commanded two ships, the Isis and the Horus, one of which had to be destroyed and that when the Liberty placed itself under his command he'd just been forced to resign his commission from King Humphrey. The young men who'd fought under him were unimpressed. The fleet was resupplied with food and missiles, and in one day more the major part of it would take off for Meakin. Other ships would journey, of course, to the twenty-odd once-subject worlds. There they would, they were calmly confident about it, mop up any surviving Meakin-y ships and enforce the surrender of Meakin-y's garrisons, and they would gather emissaries to be carried to the fleet as it rode in orbit about Meakin. The fleet and the representatives of the twenty-two worlds together would firmly rearrange the government and the policies and the ambitions of Meakin. There was still the matter of Gwenlyn. The Silva came down on Kandar, of course, where Morgan swaggered happily, pointing out the indispensable help given to Kandar by talents incorporated. Borahs reminded King Humphrey that Morgan collected metals and he was duly invested with sundry glittering decorations, which would have staggered a lesser man. Gwenlyn found Borahs secluded in the palace, waiting until it was time to board ship and head for Meakin. Her father accompanied her. I've come to say good-bye, she said gently. We've done what we came for. I still don't understand why you came, said Borahs, who would much rather have said something else. We can't possibly do anything adequate in return. Why did you come? He turned to Morgan, who answered blandly. One of our talents pre-kignized an event. We had to come here and help it to happen. Gwenlyn was doubtful, but she's come around. What was it? It hasn't happened yet, said Morgan. He produced a cigar and lighted it. Gwenlyn, shall I tell him? Don't you dare, said Gwenlyn, hotly. Borahs said unhappily. I'm sorry you were going away, Gwenlyn. If things were different, I... I... You what? asked Morgan. By the way, one of our talents has pre-kignized that your uncle's going back to Trey Lee as its king again. Largely on your account. You're his heir, aren't you? Borahs blinked. Hero, said Morgan, waving his hand. Twenty-two planets adoring you, believing you brought meek and down single-handed. Aking to work with you, follow you, admire you. Naturally, Trey Lee wants your uncle back. Then they'll have you. Of course, he added complacently. Our department for disseminating truthful seditious rumors had something to do with it, but that was necessary wartime propaganda, and you did let anybody down. Then he said, peevishly, not until now. Borahs gaped. He looked at Gwenlyn. Her cheeks were crimson. Revelation struck Borahs like a blow. I don't believe it, he said, staring at her. He said, more loudly, I don't believe it. Dammit, said Morgan indignantly. She didn't believe it either. She said she'd come here because she was curious, nothing more. But that particular talents never missed yet. She just plain knows, every time, who, hush, said Gwenlyn fiercely. Goodbye. Borahs moved toward her, not to shake hands. She ran out of the door. She ran fast for a girl. He ran faster. Morgan puffed contentedly. Presently, the completely unreal figure of King Humphrey VIII came to where Morgan had surrounded himself with aromatic smoke. Where's Borahs? asked the King. Beyond her, said Morgan, he waved his hand. Kissing my daughter, I think. Do you know, Majesty, I've known this would happen all along. One of our talents pre-recognized you opening parliament next year, so I knew things had to come out right. Yes, said the King dubiously. I suppose so. But there had to be efforts, too, to bring it about. Otherwise, it wouldn't seem right. Naturally, said Morgan. When one of my talents pre-recognized that Gwenlyn was going to marry the heir of the pretender of Tralee, and be queen of Tralee some day, why, it didn't seem a bit likely. But once I knew about that precognition, I put in a little effort. King Humphrey was thoughtful. Things look good, said Morgan, expansively. My talents are pre-recognizing all over the place. They tell me that this planet's going to be a fine place to live. Quiet and peaceful, man serene. Gwenlyn will be living on Tralee most likely, and I don't want to be under foot. I'll probably settle down here. Retire, you know. Splendid, said the King politely, is mind occupied with the prospect of a warless future. And as for Gwenlyn and Bors, Morgan added confidently, I'll tell you something. My talents have been working on their future. I wouldn't tell her all of it. Some of it should be a surprise. But she and Bors are going to be what you call happy ever after. And that's talents-incorporated information. You can depend on it. The End of Talents Incorporated by Murray Leinster