But there's nothing we can do, Worthing answered.
We can threaten to burn the damn planets.
But we'd never do it. Why make threats we'll never carry out? Besides, they know as well as we do that if we burn the planets, we can't get water from them, and then what have we accomplished?
Then let's threaten to burn one. The others'll go along.
Worthing refused, adamantly, shouting, if it were possible. Never. No. That is an atrocity and I won't brook it. If we do that, we don't deserve to survive.
What about me? one captain asked. I'm going to be out of fuel in a couple of days. What about me?
I don't know, Worthing answered.
Maybe they don't mean it. Surely they wouldn't shoot us down.
Surely. Are you willing to risk your life to find out?
Long pause in the thought conversation. A turmoil of emotions. Then:
Yeah. I'm willing.
And so the huge fueling craft broke away from the payload section of the ship-- huge, in relation to the antlike man inside, who was the whole crew of the ship and the fueling craft. In relation to the starship itself, of course, the fueler was absurdly small.
The fueler descended gracefully into the atmosphere of Harper Moon, the smallest of the three planets. It was instantly detected by the radar watch of the system military authority. "Well, Governor Pock, will you give the order?"
"I don't want to do it, dammit! Why should a peaceful little system like ours have to kill a man?"
"Because the damned rebels will be out of the sky sometime soon anyway, and the imperial fleet will be here forever!"
"All right, then. Kill him." And Pock left the room, furious at having been compelled to make such a decision. He was trained to administer a vast network of bureaucracy. He was not trained to cope with an interstellar rebellion by Mother's most brilliant ship captains.
The radars locked in. The missiles were launched. They intercepted the relatively slower fueler long before it reached the ocean. It erupted in a ball of flame. No particles large enough to notice survived to reach the ocean.
He's dead, Homer pointed out unnecessarily to the others.
I didn't think they'd do it, the bastards, someone else commented.
I say tell 'em we'll burn 'em. If they plan to take part in the war, then let's bring it right to home.
We won't burn anybody.
But we can sure as hell say we'll burn 'em, can't we?
Fourth Exchange
From: SWIP-e33
To: The assassins on Harper system
You're not the only ones who can kill. We now have fusion devices ready to launch at Harper Moon. You have four hours to grant permission for fuelers to land or we will burn the planet.
From: Authority
To: The rebels
Look, we warned you. Please go away. Surrender or something. How can we put it any plainer? You can't get onto the planet. Burning the planets, even if you would really do it, would accomplish nothing-- how could you get any water then? And you'd be hunted to the ends of the universe. No one will ever forgive planet burners. Right now, you might very well be forgiven.
"That communique was pathetic," the colonel told the governor.
"What, I should have been formal?" Pock retorted. "Official language doesn't communicate. I just want this whole thing to go away."
"It won't," said the colonel.
"But you will," answered Pock. "Until you can put a weapon in my hand that allows me to stop them from burning any planet in the system, I have no intention of following your insane advice and writing insane patriotic messages. Why antagonize them?"
"The only thing that will stop them from getting I antagonized is giving them water, which we won't do," the colonel answered.
"Do you think I don't know that?"
The imperial fleet was now close enough to entirely encircle the system-- and the rebels. In previous attempts at encirclement, of course, the rebels, being telepaths-- that was the point of the war, wasn't it-- were able to anticipate every move and broke such circles like child's play. But now they were nearly out of fuel-- they had no maneuvering room; they could not get to another system; they had to either get water from Harper system or surrender.
And in the meantime, the imperial fleet began making feints and false attacks and swift diving runs. The rebels had to react, had to move their ships, for the telepaths could clearly see that the fleet commander would instantly follow up any momentary advantage. And when the rebels stopped responding, he would know that they were out of fuel and would attack. Without fuel to maneuver the ship, telepathy was no longer an advantage.
We're doomed, they told Homer Worthing.
We knew that was a possibility from the start. And if we'd stayed with them, we would have been doomed anyway-- after all, didn't the enemy kill all their telepaths? They didn't trust us, with good reason, and now we're stuck.
Brilliant, somebody said. We know we're stuck. But we don't have to be.
And Homer Worthing felt his authority slipping away from him. What do you mean, we don't have to be? he asked.
I mean that this planet system isn't neutral. Our lack of supplies is the empire's most potent weapon against us. That makes the planets hostile adversaries. Attacking them is legitimate. Theyare no longer civilians.
Just try explaining that to all the innocent people you'd be killing.
Then let them explain to us why they're so eager to kill us? If we had a weapon that would only kill generals, we'd use it. But we don't. But we do have a weapon that will definitely kill the generals-- and everybody else. So let's be ready to use that.
Not while I lead this fleet.
All those in favor?
For the moment, the majority voted to keep Worthing as fleet commander. But only a majority, and not an overwhelming one.
And as time passed and they maneuvered more and more, all but four ships ran out of fuel.
Fifth Exchange
From: SWIP-e33
To: The planetside enemy
By refusing to supply us and by attacking a ship attempting to refuel and destroying it, you have removed yourselves from civilian immunity. Perhaps it will convince you that we are serious if we tell you that Homer Worthing is no longer captain of the fleet. The new captain is determined to burn you within four hours unless we have a positive response.
"That means," the colonel gloated, "that they're nearly out of fuel! We've got them where we want them!"
"That means," Governor Pock said, "that they're cornered and desperate and may very well do anything, including burning us to a cinder."
"Nonsense. That wouldn't help them and they know it. They've lost-- they'll simply have to admit it and surrender."
"They've lost, and we made them lose," the governor said. "What animal doesn't take one last swipe at the hunter, even though he's already dying?"
"You've shot down too many skeeters, Governor," said the colonel.
"We'll be destroyed. I don't want to get these planets involved."
"A bit too late, isn't it? What do you want to do, send them water?"
"I've been considering it."
"Well, stop considering it, Pock. I have authority to remove you from office and impose military law the moment you attempt to in any way aid the rebels." The presence of the fleet had stiffened his spine.