slashed off short with energy beams, and the cutpoints
were tattered. People were generally not sloppy with cut-
ting tools. Enemies were. Simeon relayed a standard
"please identify" message and put the tugbays on standby.
"Nor am I abristle," he continued to Channa. "The
inspectors will be when they come, though."
Channa groaned. "Even for you that was lame.
You're being unusually ridiculous, Simeon. You know
the mentality that goes with these inspections N sen-
tence first, trial afterwards."
"In other words, off with our heads, if they could
reach mine."
"And us running as fast as we can to stay in one place,
too. Which capability you also don't have. Now, since
this is my first time with you.. .
"Oh, Channa... pant, pant
"Simeon," she said warningly. "I know where the
controls for your hormone balance are."
"Heh hen, sorry. What's the worst they can do to
me? Send me back to asteroidic purgatory? Like I told
you, I'm only on temporary duty here anyway."
Channa had been running a scan. "There are twelve
entries for the word 'stuff'! You want this to be a tem-
porary assignment? Well, you may get your wish."
"It's not a wish, my dear, I never said 'I wish they'd
take me away from here and put me anywhere else.'
I've a very definite destination in mind, as you so
astutely concluded the other evening. If I had my
THE Crrv WHO FOUGHT
77
druthers, I'd be running a command ship and waging
star wars on the Axial Perimeter. But," and he gave a
huge audible sigh, "wbo believes in wishes anymore?"
"You do, with all your war games and tactical
daydreams."
The approaching ship still had not responded, nor
was it dumping speed as fast as it should. In fact,
whoever was in command had waited much too long to
begin doing so. The flare of drive energies should be
blanking out that whole quadrant, and the neutrino
flux was barely enough for a pile just ticking over.
Simeon came to a disagreeable conclusion.
"Whoa, there, Channa. We've got stuff, not mine,
coming in to make mince of us if we're not careful.
Have a look?"
Simeon slapped up a main screen view of the
intruder bearing down on them. Surprise and alarm
held her motionless for only a split second before she
reacted.
"I'm alerting the perimeter guard," she said, wiping
her previous program and inputing the new.
"Right!" Although he already had, two sources of the
same alert emphazised the emergency. "I'm busy cal-
culating how to cushion the impact of that great
hulking mass whistling towards us. I hope they know
where the brakes are." Nice to have a brawn to share
emergency work. The station personnel should get
used to dealing with her.
Stabbing the alert button on the main console,
Channa then called up a finer resolution of the object,
which to her appeared to be a darker mass against the
black of space.
"Unannounced arrival!" She transmitted the image
to the personnel on perimeter traffic control, alerting
them to the pertinent vector and ordering them to
begin rerouting incoming traffic.
"How do you know it's ivhistting toward us?" she
78
Aftne McCaffrey fc? 5 M. Stirling
asked in as calm a voice as he was using while her
fingers flew over the controls. "There's no sound in
space."
Simeon could detect just a micro-tremor of fear in
her noncommittal tone. "If I think it whistles," he
answered, "it whisdes."
"Perimeter says it's like nothing they've ever seen
before either and N" she paused and licked her lips
"N it's about to cut a broad swath through the proper
traffic pattern."
Simeon took full control of the traffic control boards.
He could see and respond to die necessary changes in
traffic patterns faster than any unshelled human. He
was simultaneously redirecting and responding to
dozens of ships.
Suddenly Channa started cursing. "Damn their eyes
and innards! These damned civilians are asking ques-
tions instead of doing what they're supposed to in
emergency routines. Now you see why I didn't like you
calling those false alarms. No one's paying a blind bit of
attention to tkasgenuine emergency! Wolf-cryer!"
"I've put it on every public screen. They'll know it's
no drill," Simeon said, his voice velvet with malice, "and
it's coming straight at us. I don't think it'll stop,"
I didn't realize you could banter when you're terrified, he
thought with tight control, though it helped being able
to set your analogue of adrenal glands.
Channa stared, stunned, as the screen filled with the
alien ship. "You haven't activated the repel screen? Hit
it for God's sake!" She pressed her rocker switch just a
fraction of a second behind Simeon.
Joat gritted her teeth and wiped eyes and nose on
the back of her sleeve. It was a good shirt, and dean.
Dumb, she told herself fiercely. Dumb, dumb, dumb bitch,
dumb gash, just like the captain told you you were. Especially
when he was drunk. He'd always been worse then.
THE crry WHO FOUGHT
79
She turned her attention back to the little computer.
It was the best she'd ever been able to steal, a real
Spuglish; jacked into the station system right now, with
the skipper-unit she'd cobbled up to keep the station
from knowing just where or why.
Ship schedules / departures / outsystem, she told it
Machines didn't lie to you! You could trust machines
and, if they didn't do what they were supposed to, it
wasn't because they had lied. Maths and machinery
could be believed.
A barking sob broke through her lips, spattering
drops on the screen. She bit down on her hand until
the pain and the taste of her own blood let her con-
tinue. Then she wiped the machine down with the tail
of her shirt Machines didn't let you down, either.
Departures, the computer said. Look, Joat, you
don't have to leave here. Trust me, we'reN
"No!" she screamed.
Joat stuffed the scramblers into her pockets and
went off down the duct at a scrambling crawl, ignoring
projections and brackets that only slighdy impeded her
progress. The motions were reflexive, with a graceless
efficiency.
Nobody's going to give me away again, she thought. Get
me used to eating regular and school and everything, then give
me away! The thought went round and round in her
head, filling it, so that it was minutes before the klaxon
penetrated her self-absorption.
"Oh, shit," she whispered in a still small voice, listen-
ing. Then she turned and went back the way she came,
faster still The computer was back there, and without it,
she wouldn't be able to find out what was really going on.
Her spacesuit was diere, too. This sounded serious.
"THIS IS NO DRILL! REPEAT, THIS IS NO
DRILL1" The words rang down the corridors and
haUspaces, without the melodramatic klaxons Simeon
80
Anne McCaffrey fc? SM. Stating
had always used. "Nonessential personnel report to
secure areas. Report to secure areas. Prepare for breach
of hull integrity."
This time the citizens of the SSS-900-C listened, hasten-
ing into suits, gathering children and pets and heading for
the central core or section shelters. Crews pelted onto their
ships, even as moorings were detached and entry locks
irised shut and each "all on board" signal was relayed to
Simeon. Emergency crews flocked to their assigned sta-
tions. Infirmary patients who could not be moved were
placed in individual, independently powered life-support
units. All too soon, most of the citizens of SSS-900-C could
only wait, imagining their station crushed like an egg as
die invader plowed into them.
Simeon worked frantically, ordering ships of all sizes
out of the projected path of the incoming ship, brutally
suppressing the knowledge that ships with ordinary,
unshelled pilots could barely handle the split second
timing he was asking of them. So for, so good N no one
out there seemed destined to die today. For a heart-
stopping moment he thought the alien might be
decelerating, but the blaze of energies sputtered and
died. It's only shed 7% of relative velocity, he calculated dis-
mally. Not nearly enough.
"Why didn't they program mobility?"
"Who?" Channa asked distractedly. "Where?"
"In me! In this station! I can't duck! I've no weapon-
ry to blast it out of my way. I can't even fend off such
mass. All I can do is watch. What lasers I've got can just
about handle a decent-sized meteor. The best I can do
is warm up his hull a little, and I have to wait till he's up
my ass to do it! Damn! This station is like a paraplegic
spaceship!"
"Whoa! Did you see that?" Channa shouted. The
mass had seemed to deliberately veer aside from an
ordinary asteroid miner vessel, something the miner
pilot himself probably couldn't have done. "Watch,"
THE CTTY WHO FOUGHT
81
she said, "there! Did you see? It jigged just a bit to miss
that incoming ferry traffic It is being guided."
"But by what?" Simeon asked. He ran calculations
on the ballistics of those maneuvers. The deviations
were absolutely minimal for the effect. "It's traveling so
fast now, no human pilot could stop it and stay con-
scious. TTiey don't answer any radio messages. TTiey're
ignoring the.damn warning flares. Shit, maybe they
think we're welcoming them. Ah, goodF
"But they are decelerating again, Simeon," Channa
said, glancing up from her own screens to the main
viewer before she went back to other chores which she
had assumed.
"Yeah, marginally longer this time. No, cutting out
N no, decelerating again. Rate of energy-release ...
God, but they're still not dumping enough velocity!
And still on a collision course!" His voice went slightly
wild. "They mustwant to destroy me!"
"I don't see any weapons," Channa said, trying to
finish her current task in time.
"Who can tell in that jumble of struts and boxes and
crap! Besides, that thing itself is a weapon." Simeon had
just one card to play and at exactly the right moment
for maximum effect. "You're not even suited up,
partner. At least take shelter in my shaft core, Channa."
She shook her head, "Not till I'm dirough evacuating
the alien quadrant 'Sides, those Letheans scare easily
enough as it is without me appearing in full gear."
She had managed at last to get through to the leader
of the Lethe contingent. A people so formal that emer-
gencies required a ceremony, mercifully brief, for
deferring the usual endless courtesies in favor of sur-
vival. Had Channa not performed the ceremony and
explained the situation to them, they would have died
rather than commit such a breach of manners as
assuming that something was actually wrong. She
broke the connection at last and exclaimed, 'JoatT
82
Arme McCaffrey & S.M. Stirling
"She has a suit," Simeon said, "first thing I gave her.
She's probably in it right now. Why aren't you?"
She dashed for the cabinet holding her space suit
and began to struggle into it
"Come to me, Channa," he said, in a wildly facetious
tone, "come, touch the hard, male core of my inner-
most being."
"Ee-yuck, is that the sort of romance you've been
studying? Try another mode."
"When I've world enough and time, lovely one, but
have a look at what I've managed to arrange as stop signs."
Seemingly from out of nowhere, three communica-
tions satellites came diving towards the incoming ship,
two striking it head on and one slightly astern. Whole
sections of die scaffolding and outer skin of the derelict
sublimed in white flashes that expanded into circles
with zero-g perfection. The alien ship was not slowed
N there was too much kinetic energy in that mass N
but its vector altered slightly.
"Comsats aren't supposed to be able to move like
that!" Channa exclaimed tightly. Simeon's sensors
could hear the pounding of her heart, analyze the
ketones her sweat-damp skin was emitting. Fear under
hard control. The lady has guts, he thought.
"A little something I cooked up on my own," he said
smugly.
"Cooked in the wrong sort of pot, you crazy loon.
Without those satellites, we'll be out of communication
with half the universe for weeks."
"Channa, if I hadn't done that we'd be out of com-
munication with the all of the universe permanently.
Besides, my satellite tactic worked!"
Channa looked up at the main monitor and saw that
the projected vector had skewed slightly. "Not
enough," she muttered. "Please don't use any more of
our comm satellites like billiard balls, Simeon. If we do
survive this, they'll be needed more than ever."
THE CTTY WHO FOUGHT
83
"Oh-oh," Simeon muttered.
"Oh-oh?" she repeatedly anxious.
It means, I screwed the pooch, Channa, Simeon thought
Aloud he went on. "SS Conrad, dump your carrier
modules and get out of that sector. You are now directly
in the path of the incoming ship."
"No-can-do SSS-900-C. I've got a full load here. The
company'll have my ass if I desert it"
"The company'll have to hold a seance to get it, then,
'cause if you stay put, you're about to become immortaL
Jump it!"
"Now!" Channa shouted. "It's less than two
k-thousand kilometers from you. Now, dammit!"
"No shit!" the pilot shouted and disconnected the
"cab," the crew quarters and control section of the ship,
from the much larger freight storage sections.
They watched the tiny cab move with agonizing
slowness across the seemingly endless bow of the
strange ship.
"Down on station horizon," Simeon instructed,
"ninety-degrees, straight down."
"Down? You want me to stop? With that bastard
coming right for me! Are you crazy?"
"It's your only chance, buddy. She's shallow on the
bottom but, by Ghu, is she wide! Show me what kind of
pilot you are! Not what kind of smear you'll make."
Obediently, the little ship flared energy, applying
thrust at right-angles to its previous vector. Its path
shifted, slowly at first and then with growing speed like
a bell-curve graph across a computer screen. Slowly,
slowly, descending, a bright spot against the ever larger
mass approaching them.
"Oh shit, oh shit," the captain whispered desper-
ately. "Help?"
The intruder was less than a kilometer away, now,
from the cab which looked like a white pin-point
against the black hull of the stranger. At half a
84
AnruMcCaffrey 6? SM. Stating
kilometer it cleared the leading edge of the incoming
ship and the pilot began to laugh wildly.
"Keep going," Simeon ordered sharply, to be heard
through the hysteria. "It's about to hit your freighter.
Keep moving till I tell you to stop."
"It's ore," the captain gasped though he sounded
more as if he was weeping, "iron ore. Nickel-iron-
carboniferous, in ten-kilo globules,7
Atu, crap! Simeon thought, as the intruder struck the
freighter with majestic slowness. The forward third of its
hull vanished in the fireball, and so did much of the
freighter's cargo. The energy-release and spectrographic
analysis would tdl him a good deal about the composition.
Right now he had millions of special delivery meteors
pouring down from the breached holds onto his station.
Greatexample ofNewtonian physics, actionand reaction.
The collison had, serendipitously, damped much of
the incoming ship's remaining velocity, but the frag-
ments of ship and cargo had picked it up for
themselves. He tracked the myriad trajectories of the
space flotsam and relayed the information to the ships
in the scatter area, directing them into still more impos-
sible flight patterns. He assigned the computer
responsibility for tracking and blasting the larger
chunks of ore with the station's lasers. No problems
with dispersion when the stuff was in your face. On the
other hand, there was one hell of a lot of it Simeon set
the computer to figuring out just how much would get
through.
He realized that Channa was staring at the monitor
in horrified fascination. "Hey Hap, Happy baby, get in
the shaft core."
"Why?" she asked. "It's stopping."
"Slowing, yes, but if it so much as kisses me on the
cheek, it'll breach the station and you're on a one-way
trip to the nebula. We need you here, so shaft me
baby."
THE CITY WHO FOUGHT
85
"Shaft yourself," she said. "It has come to a complete
cessation of forward movement"
A final flare of energy left the aft third of the
intruder's hull slumping and melting, the drive cores
and conduction vanes white-hot and misting titanium-
rutile monofiber.
"So it has," Simeon said mildly.
Channa gave a giddy whoop and slumped against die
central shaft, trying to wipe at the sweat that filmed her
face. Her glove dadoed against the faceplate ofher helmet
"Dead, stock still," he said, feeling intense relief.
"Relative to the station, that is."
With a glance at his column, Channa hit the discon-
nect switch and the red warning lights stopped
flashing. Simeon began to announce stand-down to
Condition Yellow in dulcet, paternal tones. Channa
took off her helmet and began to confer with the Lethe
leader, reestablishing the usual formal relations.
When at last they disconnected from their various
crucial chores, Channa looked at her incoming
electronic messages and laughed. "By God, but we're a
resilient species. Look at these."
Simeon scanned them and laughed, too. "I haven't
even finished flushing the excess adrenalin from my
system and they're already complaining about lost
cargo and insurance. I love the human race. We're con-
sistently more concerned with trivia than serious
threats."
"And we're not even out of danger, are we?"
"Out of mortal danger. That thing could have
totaled us. The ore will cause a lot of trouble and
expense, so let's maintain Condition Yellow for a
while."
That would keep nonessentials out of the exterior
compartments, mostly industrial areas anyway, and
everyone in suits with helmets in reach and within
sprinting distance of the shelters. Megacredits of
86
Arme McCaffrey 6f 5M. Stirling
money were being lost, of course, most of which would
be paid by Lloyds' Interstellar.
Channa was examining the strange ship on a dose
screen.
"Next question is who, or what's, aboard.
"And if there's anything left of the pilot captain,"
Simeon added, "who's broken regulations I didn't
know existed till now. I sent out a dozen probes to
secure available information on what's left. Ah! Input!"
The main screen blanked, and then displayed a
schematic of the strange craft, shifting to a three-
dimensional model as the computers extrapolated.
"So that's what it looked like before it started hitting
things and melting down its drives," Simeon mur-
mured as brain and brawn surveyed an elongated
sphere amid its tangle of extensions. "And now I'D sub-
tract what doesn't appear to be part of the original
construction."
The resulting model didn't look much like the
slagged ruin tumbling slowly through space in the
real-time image that Simeon kept up in the lower right-
hand corner of the screen. Channa leaned forward and
frowned at such an unfamiliar design. Huge it certainly
was. At least eighty kilotons mass, with extravagant
ship-bays and airlocks, old-fashioned cooling vanes
around the equator...
"That looks like human construction," she said
thoughtfully. "Just not any model I've ever seen or
heard about" Human civilization had been unified at
the beginning of starflight and their ships bore a family
resemblance.
"It does look vaguely human-made," Simeon agreed,
"but I can't even find a match in historical files of Janes'All
the Galaxy's Spaceships for the last century. The composition
is odd, too; metal-metal fiber matrix. Ferrous alloys. No
comparable design for the last two centuries. Hmmm."
"Something?"
THE Crry WHO FOUGHT
87
"This." He called up an image beside the
reconstructed ship.
"Close but no cigar," Channa said.
"That's the last of a, line of heavy transports N that
one was a Central Worlds space-navy troop-transport
Designers were Dauvigishipili and Sons. They used to
make a lot of militaty craft, operated on stations out of
the New Lieutas system. See, there is some use to being
a military historian. Ah, tere."
The image changed and now there was a virtual
one-to-one match.
"Colonial transport," Simeon said. "They stopped
building them about three hundred years ago, so it
could be up to four hundred years old. Original
capacity was ten thousand colonists, in coldsleep of
course, with a crew of thirty. There were a lot of odd lit-
de colonies back then, people looking for places where
they could practice as weird a religion as they wanted
and not have the Central Worlds bugging them. The
few that survived are still pretty flaky. Are you
surprised to learn that the ship-class was called the
Manifest Destiny vehicle? A few of the later models had
brain controllers before Central Worlds put a stop to
that practice on humane grounds. Some of those
minor cults were N" he made a brief pause to consult
his lexicon "N aberrant! Hmm, and I'd bet this one got
transmogrified into an orbital station. Look at all that
stuffi"
"Your kind of 'stuff'?" asked Channa ingenuously.
"Gadgetry," he amended in a firm, this-is-serious
voice, "plastered on the exterior: observation stuff,
transmission stuff, the usual. And intended to be used
in orbit. I mean, who would try to fly any ship with all
that crap sticking out? For starters, the thrust axis
wouldn't be through the center of mass anymore, so
for starters, it's unbalanced."
Channa scanned through more probe transmissions,
88
Arme McCaffrey fc? 5M. Stirling
induding some views taken by the perimeter sensors as
the hulk barreled in, so they could see the havoc caused
by collision and too-rapid deceleration.
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