“This is ridiculous,” said the third woman. “We live now, and if we want to keep living, we've got to do something about it pretty damned quick.” “What would you suggest?” asked the man. “You want to shoot it out with two hundred Kragans? Or triggerthat damned thing"—he gestured to the device—"and blow the whole goddamned planet to hell?” “It's better than letting them take us without a fight,” said the first woman. “Five years ago it would have been,” said the man. “Even three months ago, before they got that colony in the Delphini System. But now we're the last. If we die, Man is through. He's over. Forever. We've got a responsibility.”
“To whom?” asked the second woman. “We're the only four people we owe anything to. Nobody else counts. And I say that we fight.”
“You're not talking about fighting,” said the man. “When you fight, somebody wins.” “So you just want to sit here and wait until we starve to death, is that it?” said the second woman. “No, of course not,” said the man. “All I'm saying is that whatever else happens, we have to stay alive.” He paced the cave restlessly, then walked to the tiny entrance. “Look, there's nothing on this world we can use, that anyone can use. Maybe I can persuade them to leave us here, to post a guard ship to make sure we'll never go back into space.”
“If the positions were reversed, could a Kragan convince you of it?” asked the first woman. “Could anyone?” echoed the third woman. “No,” admitted the man. “But...”
“But what?”
“But I'm a Man,” he said. “They're Kragans.” “That's the whole problem,” said the first woman. “What's the Kragan truce sign?” asked the man.
“You mean it!” said the first woman incredulously. “You're really going to go down and talk to them!”
“Hope your Galactic's fluent,” said the second woman contemptuously. “Yes, sir. Hope it's real good. Maybe if you bow and scrape enough they won't know what you are. They might think they've stumbled onto a whole new species.”
The man spat on the floor, carefully maneuvered his body through the opening, and began the slow descent. His foot kicked a loose rock that tumbled down the mountainside, and he immediately stood up in full view of the Kragans, waving his arms wildly. “Don't fire!” he yelled. “I'm coming down to talk. I have no weapons.” To his mild surprise, he was allowed to complete his journey unmolested, and within two hours his feet rested on solid ground.
“Who is your leader?” he asked of the assembled Kragans. “I,” said one of those nearest to him.
“I have come to talk,” said the man, trying to keep from breaking into Terran. “Why?” asked the Kragan.
“To ask for mercy.”
“Is that all?” said the Kragan. Had its face been at all manipulable, it would have looked suspicious. “Not quite,” said the man. “You know that we also have the power to destroy this planet and everything on it.”
“We know that.”
“I'll make you a deal,” said the man. “If you'll let us remain here, alive and unharmed, I'll allow you and your forces to leave. We have no desire to die, nor to kill anyone else.” “You have no desire to kill anyone,” said the Kragan emotionlessly, “and yet you came down here to threaten us with complete and total destruction. Is it any wonder that we cannot allow you to survive?” “But we are the last!” said the man. “When you have killed us, the race of Man will have ceased to exist.”
“Yes,” said the Kragan. It did not sound regretful. “It was Man that gave form and structure to the galaxy. We've played too important a role in the scheme of history to die as a race. Surely you must be able to see some value in keeping a remnant of us alive.” “As you kept remnants of other races alive?” asked the Kragan. “How many species has Man exterminated in his brief lifetime? How many worlds has he ground to dust and ash?” “But damn it,I didn't do those things!” cried the man in exasperation.
“Left to live, you would,” said the Kragan. “You already contemplate doing so with this very planet.”
“Give me an alternative,” pleaded the man. “Any alternative.” “The alternative,” said the Kragan patiently, “is not to destroy the planet.” “Then let us live in peace!”
“You are a Man,” said the Kragan. “For you to live in peace is a contradiction in terms.” “Keep us imprisoned on this planet, then,” said the man. “Destroy our ship and patrol the skies so that we can never leave again.”
“Your ship is already destroyed,” said the Kragan. “And you will never leave again. Have you anything further to say?”
The man looked up at the stars for the last time, sighed, and shook his head. “No,” he said. “Then return to your companions,” said the Kragan. “We will not honor any further truces.” The man trudged slowly up the mountain. “Well?” asked the second woman.
“We're no worse off than before,” said the man. “That's not saying a hell of a lot,” said the second woman. “I assume we're also not any better off?” “No.” He looked around the cave. “How long is the food good for?” “Two days if we eat hearty,” said the third woman. “Maybe a week if we scrimp.” “Why scrimp?” said the second woman. “If we're going to die, let's at least do so with full stomachs.” “Right,” said the first woman. “Death by slow starvation isn't one of the nicer ways to go.” “There is no nice way,” said the man. “If only those damned Kragans would listen to reason!” “But they won't,” said the third woman. “Damn it!” said the man. “We've meant too much to the galaxy just to die like this! They could save us. Keep this place a planetary prison or zoo or whatever they wanted to do with us, and just let us live. It can't end like this! We've gone too far, done too much, to die in this forgotten little hellhole with nobody around to notice. Damn it all—we'reMen!" “Bravo!” said the second woman, clapping her hands sarcastically. “What a pity those words can't be engraved on the wall of the cave.”
“You may be content to sit here and wait for death,” said the man, “but if we can't live, then I think we should at least die with some kind of gesture, something they may remember us for.”
“We could all kneel down in front of the Kragans and pray while their firing squad mowed us down,”
said the second woman with a laugh.
“Or write down your touching little speech and put it in a bottle in the hope that someone will find it someday,” added the third woman.
“Stop your snickering!” snapped the man. “If we're going to die, at least we ought to go about it right.” “And what is the right way for a race to die?” said the second woman. “Not by sitting around moaning and cackling, that's for sure!” said the man. “Don't you want somebody to know we've been here, that this is where Man met his end?” “Who do you propose to tell?” asked the second woman. “I don't know,” said the man. “Somebody.” He looked around the cave and his eyes fell on the device. “Everybody.” He walked over and knelt down next to it. “At least they'll know we didn't go out like lambs to the slaughter, that we fought to the very end to preserve all that was Man.” He reached out and pressed the button.
It was glorious.
EPILOGUE: 587TH MILLENNIUM
Eons passed, and Man—or something very like him—slithered out of the slime, sprouted limbs, developed thumbs. He stood erect, saw the stars for the first time, and knew that they must someday be his....