the explosion, a quantity of debris had fallen in front of the doors so that we had to blast them open. That gave us a big enough opening to sail the platforms through, and avoid any radio-active contamination - and, I think, by reason of the airlock’s position, any serious exposure to radiation ourselves.’
He looked round the group of officers.
‘It has been chivalrous of you, gentlemen, to take us in. Let me, in return, assure you that we have no intention of making ourselves a liability. On the contrary. There is a large food store in our station. If the cisterns have remained intact, there is water; also, there are air regeneration supplies. But we need drilling gear to get at these things. If, when my men are rested, you can let us have the necessary gear, we shall be able to add very considerably to your reserves here.’
He turned to the window, and looked at the shining segment of Earth.
‘ - And that may be as well, for I have a feeling that we may be going to need all the supplies we can collect.’
When the meeting was broken up, Troon took the General and his aide along to his own office. He let them seat themselves and light cigarettes before he said:
‘As you will understand, General, we are not equipped here to deal with prisoners of war. I do not know your men. Our station is vulnerable. What guarantees can you give against sabotage?’
‘Sabotage!’ exclaimed the General. ‘Why should there be sabotage? My men are all perfectly sane, I assure you. They are as well aware as I am that if anything should happen to this station it must be the end of all of us.’
‘But might there not be one - well, let us call him a selflessly patriotic man - who might consider it his duty to wreck this station, even at the cost of his own life?’
‘I think not. My command was staffed by picked, intelligent men. They are well aware that no one is going to win this war now. So that the object has become to survive it.’
‘But, General, are you not overlooking the fact that we, here, are still a fighting unit - the only one left in this theatre of war.’
The General’s eyebrows rose a little. He pondered Troon for a moment, and then smiled slightly.
‘I see. I have been a little puzzled. Your officers are still under that impression?’
Troon leaned forward to tap his cigarette ash into a tray.
‘Perhaps I don’t quite understand you, General.’
‘Don’t you, Commander? I am speaking of your value as a fighting unit.’
Their eyes met steadily for some seconds. Troon shrugged.
‘How high would you place our value as a fighting unit, General?’
General Budorieff shook his head gently.
‘Not very high, I am afraid, Commander,’ he said, and then, with a touch of apology in his manner, continued: ‘Before the last attack on our station you had dispatched nine medium missiles. I do not know whether you have fired any more since then, therefore the total striking power at your disposal may be either three medium missiles - or none at all.’
Troon turned, and looked out of the window towards the camouflaged missile-pits. His voice shook a little as he asked: ‘May I inquire how long you have known this General?’ Gently the General said:
‘About six months.’
Troon put his hand over his eyes. For a minute or two no one spoke. At length the General said:
‘Will you permit me to extend my sincere congratulations, Commander Troon? You must have played it magnificently.’
Troon, looking up, saw that he was genuine.
‘I shall have to tell them now,’ he said. ‘It’s going to hurt their pride. They thought of everything but that.’
‘It would, I think, be better to tell them now,’ agreed Budorieff, ‘but it is not necessary for them to know that we knew.’
‘Thank you, General. That will at least do something to diminish the farcical element for them.’
‘Do not take it too hard, Commander. Bluff and counterbluff are, after all, an important part of strategy - and
He looked round the group of officers.
‘It has been chivalrous of you, gentlemen, to take us in. Let me, in return, assure you that we have no intention of making ourselves a liability. On the contrary. There is a large food store in our station. If the cisterns have remained intact, there is water; also, there are air regeneration supplies. But we need drilling gear to get at these things. If, when my men are rested, you can let us have the necessary gear, we shall be able to add very considerably to your reserves here.’
He turned to the window, and looked at the shining segment of Earth.
‘ - And that may be as well, for I have a feeling that we may be going to need all the supplies we can collect.’
When the meeting was broken up, Troon took the General and his aide along to his own office. He let them seat themselves and light cigarettes before he said:
‘As you will understand, General, we are not equipped here to deal with prisoners of war. I do not know your men. Our station is vulnerable. What guarantees can you give against sabotage?’
‘Sabotage!’ exclaimed the General. ‘Why should there be sabotage? My men are all perfectly sane, I assure you. They are as well aware as I am that if anything should happen to this station it must be the end of all of us.’
‘But might there not be one - well, let us call him a selflessly patriotic man - who might consider it his duty to wreck this station, even at the cost of his own life?’
‘I think not. My command was staffed by picked, intelligent men. They are well aware that no one is going to win this war now. So that the object has become to survive it.’
‘But, General, are you not overlooking the fact that we, here, are still a fighting unit - the only one left in this theatre of war.’
The General’s eyebrows rose a little. He pondered Troon for a moment, and then smiled slightly.
‘I see. I have been a little puzzled. Your officers are still under that impression?’
Troon leaned forward to tap his cigarette ash into a tray.
‘Perhaps I don’t quite understand you, General.’
‘Don’t you, Commander? I am speaking of your value as a fighting unit.’
Their eyes met steadily for some seconds. Troon shrugged.
‘How high would you place our value as a fighting unit, General?’
General Budorieff shook his head gently.
‘Not very high, I am afraid, Commander,’ he said, and then, with a touch of apology in his manner, continued: ‘Before the last attack on our station you had dispatched nine medium missiles. I do not know whether you have fired any more since then, therefore the total striking power at your disposal may be either three medium missiles - or none at all.’
Troon turned, and looked out of the window towards the camouflaged missile-pits. His voice shook a little as he asked: ‘May I inquire how long you have known this General?’ Gently the General said:
‘About six months.’
Troon put his hand over his eyes. For a minute or two no one spoke. At length the General said:
‘Will you permit me to extend my sincere congratulations, Commander Troon? You must have played it magnificently.’
Troon, looking up, saw that he was genuine.
‘I shall have to tell them now,’ he said. ‘It’s going to hurt their pride. They thought of everything but that.’
‘It would, I think, be better to tell them now,’ agreed Budorieff, ‘but it is not necessary for them to know that we knew.’
‘Thank you, General. That will at least do something to diminish the farcical element for them.’
‘Do not take it too hard, Commander. Bluff and counterbluff are, after all, an important part of strategy - and
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