The Voyage of the Star Wolf by David Gerrold Page A

up the torpedoes?” asked Li.
    â€œNo. It’ll give them a more precise fix—and if they recognize the signature, they’ll know what we’ve done. Let’s try and look like a derelict—”
    â€œThere they go—” said Hodel.
    The signature of the Dragon Lord abruptly shrank and collapsed in upon itself.
    â€œHARLIE?”
    â€œI have an approximate location. They are twenty light minutes distant.”
    â€œWhy so far?” asked Hodel.
    â€œFor them, that’s not far. They’ll scan, they’ll sweep if they have to, and they’ll approach fully armed. They’ve got to have some high-gee accelerators on that monster and appropriate inertial compensation.”
    â€œThat kind of vectoring leaves them real vulnerable to a shot—” suggested Li.
    â€œDon’t count on them being that stupid,” said Korie. “HARLIE, give me a projection. How long do you think we have before they close in real space?”
    â€œBetween six and ten hours,” HARLIE replied, absolutely deadpan.
    Korie made a snorting noise. “Thanks. Situation analysis?”
    â€œThe situation could be better,” reported HARLIE. “Our crew strength is severely impaired. We are running at sixty-three percent efficiency. Our equipment is in even worse shape. We have no port side disruptors. We have insufficient power for the starboard side disruptors. All but two of our torpedoes have been disabled. If the Morthans follow standard approach procedures, they will not come within weapon range until they have first sent probes in for visual confirmation of our derelict status. Once we are under direct surveillance, it is unlikely that we could launch a torpedo or power up our disruptors without the Morthans taking immediate countermeasures. I would presume that at least one or more of the probes will be armed. Now that the Morthan ship knowswhere we are, undetected escape is also impractical. Obviously, we cannot outrun the Dragon Lord in hyperstate. Do you wish me to elaborate on any of this?”
    â€œNo, that won’t be necessary. Thank you, HARLIE.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” Hodel sounded uncertain.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Korie.
    â€œBut we have to do something !”
    â€œTo be perfectly candid,” Korie admitted, “I really can’t think of anything useful to do—”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œHodel, shut up .”
    Hodel shut. But his frantic expression remained an accusation. The responsibility is yours, Mr. Korie !
    The acting captain of the LS-1187 floated in the air, as adrift as his vessel. He looked cornered. Suddenly, a wild expression appeared on his face, almost a manic grin. “After giving the matter considerable thought,” he began slowly, “I have decided . . . to plant potatoes.”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œAlso corn, tomatoes, lettuce, peas, amaranth, cucumbers, legumes, and winged beans. The latter are especially good for oxygen fixing, I believe.”
    â€œExcuse me, sir?”
    Korie met Hodel’s puzzled expression. “Either the Morthans destroy us or they don’t. If they don’t, we’re still going to have to plant crops now if we intend to eat in the next few months. Most of the aeroponic webs are rigged. Let’s make good use of the time—”
    â€œAnd if they do destroy us—? Planting beans doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.”
    â€œIt does to me. It’s something to do—something to occupy my mind. The alternative is trying to get back to sleep. I don’t think I can. If we are going to die, I’d prefer not to waste my last few hours being unconscious. On the other hand, working with living things is a terrific way to put your soul at ease. If I am going to die, Mr. Hodel, I would prefer it to be in a state of grace. Not believing in God anymore, I will settle for second best: a state