Part 55 (2/2)

His words drifted to a halt. Commander Blenheim, looking closely, saw that something had just happened to General Harivarman. He still sat in the same position as before. His expression had altered-not by much. But now he was staring at the control device in his hand, as if something about that small object had suddenly struck him, something he himself had been unaware of until this moment.

The commander stared at him, waiting. Some new madness . . . ?

At last the general looked up at her. It was a strange, unreadable glance, and perhaps it was mad indeed. But his voice, as before, still sounded quite sane and calm. He asked her: ”What did you just say, exactly?”

”I said, what greater advantage . . .”

”Yes. Of course you did.” Waving her to silence with an imperious gesture, he stood up from the desk.

”Now, as to my demands . . .” But, having said that much, the general once more fell silent, regarding her with the same odd look.

Anne Blenheim drew a deep breath. All she could think at the moment was that maybe this man had truly gone insane at last; at least this conversation seemed to be tending toward madness. She would take it over, then, if she could, and try to dominate.

She began: ”If you can truly control the berserkers completely, as you say . . .”

Again it seemed to take the general a great effort to bring his attention back from the small device in his hand, to what his visitor was saying. ”Yes?”

”Then order them to stop their attack.”

This time the pause was shorter. He was coming back from whatever borderland he had been roaming for the past few moments. ”Stop their attack? I have already done so. They are no longer attacking. They are maintaining their controlling positions.”

”Render them totally inert, then, if you can do it. Do that now, and in turn I'll see what I can do for you.”

He had by now regained something of his original bitter manner. ”I suppose I should really have expected nothing better. You're not going to give me your solemn promise that I won't be prosecuted?”

”Would you believe me if I did? I'm no politician, no courtier, no . . .”

”What you're trying to say is that you're no experienced liar.”

”Harry.” The name came out suddenly, as if she really hadn't meant to say it. ”That's what your friends call you, isn't it?” That wasn't leading anywhere, and she tried again. ”Sorry, that was inadvertent.

General, I will tell you only the truth, since I am not an accomplished liar, and I will make only promises that I intend to keep.”

There was a long silent pause between them. Then Harivarman said: ”Unfortunately, none of the promises you have made so far are of the least use to me. Even though I do believe you mean them. So .

. . as soon as I let your Templars up off the floor, you're going to arrest me. If you can keep Lergov or Beraton from shooting me down on sight.”

”You are going to have to let us up off the floor, as you put it, sooner or later, aren't you?” She drew a breath. ”Either that or you'll have to slaughter us all.”

He looked at his control device again. ”We'll see. I think I'll not necessarily have to follow either course of action.”

”What else?”

He considered carefully before he answered. ”Sooner or later another s.h.i.+p is going to dock here. It probably won't be very many days until one comes along.”

”Ah.”

For a moment the idea of attacking him physically pa.s.sed through the commander's mind. She was better than most women at hand-to-hand combat, better by far than most men, looking at her, would expect her to be. Still it was far from certain, very far, that she would succeed if she tried attacking this man now. And if the berserker that was still with them did not squash her when she tried, and she did succeed, and the control device came into her hands, what exactly would she do with it? She had no idea whether the controller would then obey her automatically or not. What controls on the device to press?

How might her actions upset the delicate forces that at the moment were holding the enemy back from wholesale slaughter?

Rejecting that plan, at least for the moment, the commander said: ”There's a point you might want to consider. Goodlife activity makes you subject to a Templar trial, right here and now. The people who have come from Salutai to arrest you would not have jurisdiction. They could not murder you as you fear.”

”And what outcome could I expect from the Templar trial?”

She was silent.

”On the other hand, what if I were found innocent? Why, then, I suppose I'd be free. No longer under Templar jurisdiction. Therefore quite free to be arrested by Lergov and carted off to Salutai, as soon as a functioning s.h.i.+p became available. Not that I'd ever reach that world alive-but we've been through that, haven't we? My being murdered would not affect your legal position in the least. An acceptable outcome to you, as no one could accuse you of breaking regulations. No, I intend to have the next available s.h.i.+p for myself.”

”All right, forget that suggestion. It wasn't well thought out.” She hesitated, then took a plunge. ”But I don't think your plan is well considered either.”

”What do you mean?”

”Suppose I were to agree to it.” The commander had to force herself to speak those words. ”Suppose you did obtain a s.h.i.+p somehow, captured the next one to try to dock, and you got away. How would we be any better off here? We'd still be facing an overwhelming force of berserkers.”

”But no, not at all. I would leave them on a timer, as it were. They would deny you access to the docks for a time, simply to prevent any quick repairs of the remaining s.h.i.+ps, and use of them for hot pursuit of me, a.s.suming such were possible. After the set time had elapsed, they would disable themselves or allow themselves to be disabled. A treasury of knowledge, such as the Templars have always sought. And you would have obtained it for them. I'm making you an offer that no real goodlife would make, and you know it.”

”But at what price?” Commander Blenheim whispered. ”At what price? You've helped them to kill human beings here, people under my command, Templars. No one but a goodlife would have-”

There was another outburst of noise, of fighting, somewhere outside the echoing empty room in which they were talking. Again the general turned to the controller at his side. ”What was that?”

”As before,” the machine-voice answered him. ”It was necessary to take action against a local instance of aggression by the badlife.”

”Are you sure? Your communications must be imperfect too.”

”The probability is more than eighty percent.”

”Not good enough, for me.” Harivarman waved a hand at the berserker. ”Go out and see for yourself, about that fighting. Report back to me directly.”

”It is not necessary-”

The general thumbed something on his control device. ”This is an order. Go out and see to the matter yourself.”

There was no more hesitation. The machine moved away, pacing with silent elegance, despite its damaged appearance.

Now the two humans were alone. Now, thought Commander Blenheim, I could risk everything, attack him with my bare hands. . . .

Across the table from her, Harivarman, looking almost absentminded, was again picking up the Council's order for his arrest. ”There are some changes I would like to see made in this,” he announced, surprising her when she thought that she was beyond surprise. ”Before I'd even want to start negotiating with the Council.” And, looking at her meaningfully, he pulled a writing tool out of his pocket.

It was half an hour later when the base commander left the man who had once been her prisoner. Her head was whirling as she departed, with relief at her own survival thus far, and with fear. And with a new and twisted hope.

Chapter 15.

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