of it.”
Hands clenched, teeth clamped tightly together, Don Ross watched the guards take away his friend. He knew May was right; there was nothing he could do except get himself into worse trouble than May was in, and make things worse for May.
But he walked almost blindly out of the Admiralty Building. He went out and got promptly drunk, but that didn’t help.
He had the customary two weeks’ leave before reporting back for space duty, and he knew he’d better straighten himself out mentally in that time. He reported to a psychiatrist and let himself be talked out of most of his bitterness and feeling of rebellion.
He went back to his schoolbooks and soaked himself in the necessity for strict and unquestioning obedience to military authority and the necessity of unceasing vigilance for alien races and the necessity of their extermination whenever found.
He won out; he convinced himself how unthinkable it had been for him to believe that Captain May could have been completely pardoned for having disobeyed an order, for whatever reason. He even felt horrified for having himself acquiesced in that disobedience. Technically, of course, he was blameless; May had been in charge of the ship and the decision to return to Earth instead of blasting out into space—and death—had come from May. As a subordinate, Ross had not shared the blame. But now, as a person, he felt conscience-stricken that he had not tried to argue May out of his disobedience.
What would Space Corps be without obedience?
How could he make up for what he now felt to be his dereliction, his delinquency? He watched the telenewscasts avidly during that period and learned that, in various other sectors of space, four more alien ships had been destroyed. With the improved detection instruments all of them had been destroyed on sight; there had been no communication after first contact.
On the tenth day of his leave, he terminated it of his own free will. He returned to the Admiralty Building and asked for an audience with Admiral Sutherland. He was laughed at, of course, but he had expected that. He managed to get a brief verbal message carried through to the admiral. Simply: “I know a plan that may possibly enable us to find the planet of the aliens, at no risk to ourselves.”
That got him in, all right.
He stood at rigid attention before the admiral’s desk. He said, “Sir, the aliens have been trying to contact us. They have been unable because we destroy them on contact before a complete telepathic thought has been put across. If we permit them to communicate, there is a chance that they will give away, accidentally or otherwise, the location of their home planet.”
Admiral Sutherland said drily, “And whether they did or not, they might find out ours by following the ship back.”
“Sir, my plan covers that. I suggest that I be sent out into the same sector where initial contact was made—this time in a one-man ship, unarmed. That the fact that I am doing so be publicized as widely as possible, so that every man in space knows it, and knows that I am in an unarmed ship for the purpose of making contact with the aliens. It is my opinion that they will learn of this. They must manage to get thoughts at long distances, but to send thoughts—to Earth minds anyway—only at very short distances.”
“How do you deduce that, Lieutenant? Never mind; it coincides with what our logicians have figured out. They say that the fact that they have stolen our science—as in their copying our ships on a smaller scale—before we were aware of their existence proves their ability to read our thoughts at—well, a moderate distance.”
“Yes, sir. I am hoping that if news of my mission is known to the entire fleet it will reach the aliens. And knowing that my ship is unarmed, they will make contact. I will see what they have to say to me, to us, and possibly that message will include a clue to the location of their home planet.”
Admiral Sutherland said, “And in that case that planet would last all of twenty-four hours. But what about the converse, Lieutenant? What about the possibility of their following you back?”
“That, sir, is where we have nothing to lose. I shall return to Earth only if I find out that they already know its location.”
“With their telepathic abilities I believe they already do—and that they have not attacked us only because they are not hostile or are too weak. But whatever the case, if they know the location of Earth they will not deny it in talking to me. Why should they? It will seem to them a bargaining point in their favor, and they’ll think we’re bargaining. They might claim to know, even if they do not—but I shall refuse to take their word for it unless they give me proof.”
Admiral Sutherland stared at him. He said, “Son, you have got something. It’ll probably cost you your life, but—if it doesn’t, and if you come back with news of where the aliens come from, you’re going to be the hero of the race. You’ll probably end up with my job. In fact, I’m tempted to steal your idea and make that trip myself.”
“Sir, you’re too valuable. I’m expendable. Besides, sir, I’ve got to. It isn’t that I want any honors. I’ve got something on my conscience that I want to make up for. I should have tried to stop Captain May from disobeying orders. I shouldn’t be here now, alive. We should have blasted out into space, since we weren’t sure we’d destroyed the alien.”
The admiral cleared his throat. “You’re not responsible for that, son. Only the captain of a ship is responsible, in a case like that. But I see what you mean. You feel you disobeyed orders, in spirit, because you agreed at the time with what Captain May did. All right, that’s past, and your suggestion makes up for it, even if you yourself did not man the contact ship.”
“But may I, sir?”
“You may, Lieutenant. Rather, you may, Captain.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“A ship will be ready for you in three days. We could have it ready sooner, but it will take that long for word of our ‘negotiations’ to spread throughout the fleet. But you understand—you are not, under any circumstances, to deviate on your own initiative from the limitations you have outlined.”
“Yes, sir. Unless the aliens already know the location of Earth and prove it completely, I shall not return. I shall blast off into space. I give you my word, sir.”
“Very good, Captain Ross.”
* * * *
The one-man spacer hovered near the center of Sector 1534, out past the Dog Star. No other ship patrolled that sector.
Captain Don Ross sat quietly and waited. He watched the visiplate and listened for a voice to speak inside his head.
It came when he had waited less than three hours. “Greetings, Donross,” the voice said, and simultaneously there were five tiny spaceships outside his visiplate. His Monoid showed that they weighed less than an ounce apiece.
He said, “Shall I talk aloud or merely think?”
“It does not matter. You may speak if you wish to concentrate on a particular thought, but first be silent a moment.”
After half a minute, Ross thought he heard the echo of a sigh in his mind. Then: “I am sorry. I fear this talk will do neither of us any good. You see, Donross, we do not know the location of your home planet. We could have learned, perhaps, but we were not interested. We were not hostile and from the minds of Earthmen we knew we dared not be friendly. So
