Part 12 (1/2)

”Everything I do is maximized for cost-effectiveness,” the bald man responded with some pride.

”Tell him, sir,” said Arro, blatting a few of his sacs with bloodthirstiness.

”Just watch me,” said the commodore. ”Alien flesh-creature, as you now see, I am moving back toward the small alien s.h.i.+p. Soon I will be at top speed. I have activated the forward guns, so I would suggest you drop away.”

”We can destroy you quite a bit easier than you can us,” the big man responded confidently.

”You can, of course,” said Pierce, ”but my guns are not trained on your s.h.i.+ps but rather the small alien vessel. Any move toward me or it-will result in those gunsfiring automatically. Your little darling daughter will be atomized, along with the rest, of course. And you will not kill me. I am close enough and fast enough in my own s.h.i.+p to reach several other of your s.h.i.+ps with little problem.” That wasn't exactly true, but Pierce knew the flesh-creatures had no way of knowing that, and they couldn't afford to take the chance.

”Just what are you proposin'?”

”I will concede a tactical victory to you,” the Protean Pierce said slickly. ”I, however, have the life of your daughter in the palm of my sac. It is a standoff for the moment, and I propose a compromise. I will turn over to you not only your daughter but the others of the s.h.i.+p. At that time you will allow me and the then-deserted s.h.i.+p to depart, with no interference. I have weapons far greater than you can imagine, and I can destroy your fleet at my leisure if you attempt any treachery.”

”Ha!” laughed Daddy. If you had such fearsome might, why would you put forward this compromise at all?”

”For honor, a concept perhaps unknown to flesh-creatures. Perhaps we will do battle again on a different field.”

Arro squeezed a sac softly. ”Honor?” he bratted. ”Silence, First Officer,” said Pierce. ”It is a stratagem.”

The bald man considered it. Pierce knew what he was thinking-how to get the hostages off the small s.h.i.+p, then atomize the Pete Rozelle before the energy creatures could make the jump to light speed in it and escape.

That line of thinking was exactly what the gasbags hoped the humans would take. The gasbag Pierce had no intention whatsoever of escaping on the Pete Rozelle. His ultimate goals lay in the man whose image was still before him-almost literally. He thought of the three left back on the s.h.i.+p. A slick little bit of subtlety on his part when he returned might well do the trick. A little press on the emotional levers here, a little adjustment in the adrenal glands there, and he'd produce two nice lovebirds who would become inseparable. Then, of course, he and Arro would ride with, perhaps become, the human Pierce when they all went to meet dear Daddy in the flesh. ”I agree to your suggestion,” the hologram informed the Proteans. ”We will do nothing as long as you keep your end of the bargain. You must realize that, to me, a contract is a contract, and I will keep my word.”

”Somehow, sir,” said the first officer, ”I don't really believe him.”

”Watch and learn,” said the commodore.

The bridge of the alien lizards' s.h.i.+p was alive as the roar of ”battle stations” sounded throughout the great vessel.

”Targeting computer has acquired!” announced the saurian gunnery officer. ”But wait a minute! There's another s.h.i.+p, looks like the flags.h.i.+p of the alien fleet, closing on them. They'll be joined before we can get within firing range!”

There were curses all around. Captain William Tec.u.mseh Roosevelt gnashed all three hundred of his teeth, well worn now through hundreds of tight campaigns, and turned to the general.

”Well, sir? You're the brains behind this one. What do you suggest?”

General Geronimo Custer thought for a moment. ”How long before we're in range?”

”About ten minutes,” the gunnery officer told him. ”And the rest of the alien fleet . . could it hit us when we hit them?”

”No, they'd need another dozen or so minutes to get to us.”

The general nodded. ”And besides that, we're bigger than they are.”

The captain turned in surprise. ”You're suggesting we take them all on?”

”Only if we have to. Remember, we're having a regrettable accident. A weapons malfunction.

One sustained burst near the airlock probably wouldn't do more than mild damage to that flags.h.i.+p, but it'd get our intended quarry. I don't see how the plan's changed. If the enemy fleet then wants a fight, well, isn't that what we're here for?”

”Spoken like a true son of Seabiscuit!” cried the captain. ”Now we're gettin' somewhere! Up and at 'em boys! Full steam ahead!”

General Geronimo Custer glared at his junior officer. ”That's Secaucus,” he grumbled, ”not Seabiscuit.”

The captain, getting fully revved up, yelled, ”d.a.m.n the torpedoes! Bury me not on the lone prairie! Chaaarge!”

”Well, it certainly took you long enough,” the lizard general Pierce remarked, as both Marshmallow and the human Pierce reentered the control room. Both were wearing absolutely nothing-with the exception of a giant Band-Aid prominently displayed on Pierce's posterior.

”Ah hadta juice up his circulation just a bit,” the woman responded lightly.

”Disgusting,” muttered the general, who'd already shed his medal-bedecked uniform. Now he looked some-thing like a dinosaur exhibit at the museum of natural history. ”Get over here, both of you. And as for you, Pierce, wipe that d.a.m.ned smile off your face!”

”Um? Oh, sorry,” the man replied, but the smile stayed on.

”Hey, computer!” the general called out. ”Position us for least effect from your charge.”

”You know, Mills,” said the computer, ”that was most fascinating. I'm still having difficulty a.n.a.lyzing the thing, though. The both of you seemed to be going through an awful lot of agony and silly gymnastics, yet you look pleased by it all.”

Pierce's smiled vanished. ”You were peeking?”

”Well, of course not,” huffed the computer. ”I am an XB-223 navigational computer. XB- 223s are known for their discretion.” ”But you just said-”

”I was only commenting on what I saw.”

Pierce's face started to glow red from anger. ”So you did peek!”

”I did not! I warned you to pay more attention to Screen 6! I really did. Now he got you back.”

”Listen, you! First of all, Screen 6 is merely an adjunct of you. And secondly, it is a receiver, not a transmitter!”

”Receiver . . . transmitter . . . hmmm. Thank you. That might give me a handle on it. But what in heaven's name was being communicated, then? This will take further thought.”

Suddenly, there was a tremendous jolt that shook the s.h.i.+p.

”What was that?” all three in the control room asked at once.

”Oh, just the flags.h.i.+p of the fleet out there docking with us,” the computer informed them.

”Now, let's see. Do the noises you made const.i.tute part of the thing you were communicating? Or is it the gymnastics? Now, I can see if it's a complex part of-”

”The flags.h.i.+p!” Pierce cried. ”d.a.m.n it, computer! Pay attention to the job at hand! If that's the flags.h.i.+p, we're going to look mighty silly standing here naked as jay-birds!”

”Oh, don't worry about that,” the computer responded. ”The thing's only a primitive mock-up, really. Hardly worth worrying about. No, the only life-form aboard seems to be the energy beings you're so worried about. ”

”A mock-up,” the lizard general muttered. ”Some-one's a slick customer at that. But who's running the s.h.i.+p? The energy beings?”

”I suppose so,” the computer said. ”They took control with little trouble. Now, if they'd put in an XB-223 navigational computer, it would have been far more difficult-nay, perhaps impossible-to have done so. Chintziness never pays. There's probably an XB-223 sitting in some dark, dank warehouse, circuitry decaying from disuse, who could have been fully employed, as is the right of all good little computers everywhere, who might have saved that vessel. No wonder we have a galaxy-wide unemployment problem!”