“12. Therefore the Federation has the unrestricted right to issue letters of marque and reprisal.
“13. Therefore, and in view of paragraphs 7, 8, and 9, France has the right and the duty to issue letters of marque and reprisal in the name of the Federation.
“France has done so.”
The 3V shrieked—more faintly each minute, as Fox II accelerated outward and outward.
When she lost the Mars beam and reception ended, the racket in the Capitol had not yet subsided.
Penoyer said, “Whew! What’s next?”
“An interminable debate,” Heim said. “Coquelin will fight for every comma. Meanwhile nothing can be done about jellyfishing to Alerion. Hopefully, the people with guts will see they aren’t beaten at the outset, will rally round and—I don’t know.”
“But us?”
“Maybe we can escape before someone realizes who that French privateer must be. Not that they can legally stop us without an Admiralty warrant; and you know how long that takes to get.
But a nuclear shell is kind of final, and whoever fires it will have powerful friends in court.”
Vadász strummed his guitar and began to sing softly: “Morgenrot, Morgenrot—” Heim wondered what that was, until he remembered the old, old Austrian cavalry song: Morning red, morning red, Wilt thou shine upon me dead? Soon the trumpets will be blowing, Then must I to death be going, I and many trusty friends!—
But it wasn’t really sad, it had been chorused by troops of young merry men as they galloped with sunlight wild on banners and lances.
He laughed aloud. “Hey! An idea. There were exactly thirteen points in Coquelin’s speech. I wonder if he did that on purpose?”
None answered, except the plangent strings. He gave himself to thoughts… Lisa, Connie, Madelon, Jocelyn… Earth and Moon lay far behind.
“PCA-SN Neptune to cruiser Fox II. Come in, Fox II.”
The voice rocketed them from their seats. “Judas,” Penoyer whispered, “that’s a blastship.”
Heim checked the radar tapes. “The one paralleling us. She’s gone to an interception course.
And if they use English on us, when we’ve got a French registry, they know—” He bit his lip and settled before the com relay console. “Fox II to Neptune,” he said. “We read you. The master speaking. What’s on your mind? Over.”
“This is Rear Admiral Ching-Kuo, commanding Neptune. Cease acceleration and stand by to be boarded. Over.”
Sickness fountained in Heim. “What do you mean?” he blustered. “We have clearance.
Over.”
“You are suspected of illegal intentions. You are ordered to return to Earth orbit. Over.”
“Have you a warrant? Over.”
“I will show you my authorization when I board, Captain. Over.”
“That’ll be too late, if you don’t have any. Establish video contact and show me now.
Otherwise I am not bound to obey. Over.”
“Captain,” said Ching-Kuo, “I have my orders. If you do not follow instructions, I shall be forced to fire on you. Over.”
Heim’s gaze flew among the stars. No, no, no, not this! Another hour and we’d have been away! One hour!
A flaring went through him. “You win, Admiral,” he said; it sounded like a stranger talking.
“Under protest, I yield. Give us time to compute a velocity-matching vector and we’ll meet you.
Over and out.”
He slammed down the switch and opened the intercom to the engine room. “Captain to chief engineer,” he said. “Are you there?”
“Indeed,” Uthg-a-K’thaq belched. “All is satiswactory.”
“No. Somebody’s uncorked the bottle on hell. There’s a blastship which says if we don’t stop and surrender, he’ll shoot. Prepare for Mach drive.”
“Captain!” Penoyer yelled. “This deep in the sun’s field?”
“If the sync is perfect, we can do it,” Heim said. “If not… we’re dead, no more. Uthg-a-K’thaq, do you believe we can?”
“Gwurru! What a thing to ask!”
“You overhauled those engines yourself,” Heim said. “I trust you.”
Vadász’s guitar shouted at his back.
For a moment the intercom bore only the throb of machines. Then: “Cawtain, I am not God.
Wut I think the chance is good for us. And I trust you.”
Heim opened the general intercom. “Now hear this,” he said; music raged around the words.
“All hands stand by for Mach drive.”
Penoyer clenched his fists. “Aye, aye, sir.” The drone from aft rose until it was the noise of gales and great waters. Space twisted. Stars danced in the viewports.
Long ago, Ernst Mach of Austria (“Morgenrot, Morgenrot—”) had held the key. Nothing exists in isolation. Inertia has no meaning without an inertial frame of reference: which must be the entire universe. Einstein showed inertial and gravitational mass are the same. But as for the phenomena themselves—Gravitation is describable by equations of a warped space. Inertia is, then, an inductive effect of the cosmic gravitational field on mass. If your gravitrons can bend space, not the small amount needed for lift and thrust, but through a closed curve, your ship has no resistance to accelerative force. Theoretically, you can go as fast as you like. There are no more boundaries.
Neptune fired. The missile lagged by a million kilometers. Her captain yammered for instrument readings. Perhaps, oh, surely, surely, his prey had been torn apart by the forces generated with imperfect mesh of space curvatures here where the sun’s power was still all-dominant. Nothing registered, no wreckage, no trace, except the howl of hydrogen atoms flung in bow wave and wake by a ship outpacing light. He dared not pursue.
Heim straightened. One by one, he eased his muscles. “Well,” he said, “we got away with it.”
The words were poor for the victory within him. Vadász was doing better:
Part Two
ARSENAL PORT
I
When the Earth ship came, Gunnar Heim was bargaining with a devil-winged messenger from a nuclear smithy. The Aerie of Trebogir, for which Ro spoke, had weapons to sell; but there were conditions.
Non-human words hissed and whistled into the man’s helmet pickup. Gregorios Koumanoudes translated into English. “—missile gets so large an initial velocity by drawing on the ship’s own gravitrons for a launch impetus.”
Heim wished he could show horse-trader reluctance, as by thoughtfully scratching his head.
But it would look silly under present circumstances. Damn this need to wear air-suits! Even on the lift platform where he stood, which kept his weight Earth normal, and even with the strength of a two-meter-tall body which he had gotten back into first-class condition on the voyage hither, the mass of equipment he must carry was tiring. Originally he had planned to stay inboard, put a 3V two-way outside Connie Girl, and thus meet with the Staurni; but Koumanoudes warned him against it “They’ll respect you more, Captain, for coming out into their own environment,” the Greek had said. “Irrational, sure, but they make a big thing of physical toughness. And they’ll give a better deal to someone they respect.”