even if in the end it might mean the death of all surviving Herculeans, including himself.
The interstellar liner drifted slowly on the screen; only minutes out of Sagan IV, it was readying to switch over into jumpspace. The Whisper Ship’s beam reached out to the cylindrical hull and began pumping energy into the forward drive mass. A hole opened like a blooming flower. Gas began to spill out. The beam shifted to the midsection and another wound opened; red light and human shapes spilled out into space.
It’s the only way.
His father had left the cabin a few moments before the attack. The whole point is to do cruel and terrible things . Silently the beam shifted and cut its third hole.
A million miles behind the rupturing vessel, the disk of Sagan IV swam in half phase. In a few minutes port tugs would be rushing out to the dying liner. He could expect a military ship or two, but they would be too late to threaten him.
There would be little for the rescuers to save. The ship would explode at any moment, as the beam’s torrent of energy penetrated into vital areas. Was it true, he wondered, that power from the stars of home was finding its way into the Whisper Ship? He felt pride in the idea; Hercules was still a cluster of war stars, despite his father’s weakness, despite Myraa’s indifference.
The liner blossomed in space. Its hull flew apart as if driven by the magma of an exploding planet. The debris expanded, a small universe of mangled life, molten metal and hot plasma; bits and pieces would continue in all directions — into the local sun, into deep space, moving until all time ran out.
Suddenly, the magnification on his screen went up, revealing military vessels coming out from the orbital docks around Sagan IV, two near-planet defense cruisers summoned by the dying liner. Gorgias wondered if there was fear aboard the Federation ships as they examined the Herculean design on their screens. What were they thinking as they stared at the Whisper Ship, a legendary shape far out of its time?
They were coming fast now, growing in size until the screen switched to normal and they were plainly visible as bright stars no more than a few hundred kilometers away.
Automatically, the Whisper Ship began to pull away, shrinking Sagan IV to a blue point. The ship switched, blackening the stars and affixing them to a backdrop of desolate gray. The pursuers were gone.
Gorgias waited for two black dots to appear in the warp. A minute went by, two minutes; after five minutes there was still no pursuit.
“Are we running?”
He turned around and saw his father standing in the center of the cabin. Fear and sadness crowded into the older man’s face, constricting his muscles as if he had been crying. The old Herculean was a disgrace to his traditions.
“The liner is destroyed, and we’ve lost the hunters.”
His father closed his eyes. “Where are we going now?”
“I want Myraa and the others to know before we return to base.”
“It will impress them, you think.”
“It will inspire the others, perhaps, and she can’t help being affected.”
“Don’t you see — it’s your way of stealing courage.”
“I don’t see that at all.”
His father walked up to him and struck him across the face with the back of his hand.
“You have no right!”
The old Herculean struck him again. The blow threw him back in the chair. “I’m going to beat you until you can’t walk, until I can lock you up like a beast and not care.”
“Coward,” Gorgias said as he rubbed his face.
His father lunged at him and seized his throat. Gorgias felt powerful hands close on his windpipe and squeeze.
With great effort, Gorgias lifted his father by the waist and they both fell to the floor, older man on the bottom. The angry hands relaxed their hold on his throat and Gorgias struggled onto his feet.
He turned and looked at the screen. Two black dots had appeared.
“Look — hunters! I can’t bother with you now. Go back
The interstellar liner drifted slowly on the screen; only minutes out of Sagan IV, it was readying to switch over into jumpspace. The Whisper Ship’s beam reached out to the cylindrical hull and began pumping energy into the forward drive mass. A hole opened like a blooming flower. Gas began to spill out. The beam shifted to the midsection and another wound opened; red light and human shapes spilled out into space.
It’s the only way.
His father had left the cabin a few moments before the attack. The whole point is to do cruel and terrible things . Silently the beam shifted and cut its third hole.
A million miles behind the rupturing vessel, the disk of Sagan IV swam in half phase. In a few minutes port tugs would be rushing out to the dying liner. He could expect a military ship or two, but they would be too late to threaten him.
There would be little for the rescuers to save. The ship would explode at any moment, as the beam’s torrent of energy penetrated into vital areas. Was it true, he wondered, that power from the stars of home was finding its way into the Whisper Ship? He felt pride in the idea; Hercules was still a cluster of war stars, despite his father’s weakness, despite Myraa’s indifference.
The liner blossomed in space. Its hull flew apart as if driven by the magma of an exploding planet. The debris expanded, a small universe of mangled life, molten metal and hot plasma; bits and pieces would continue in all directions — into the local sun, into deep space, moving until all time ran out.
Suddenly, the magnification on his screen went up, revealing military vessels coming out from the orbital docks around Sagan IV, two near-planet defense cruisers summoned by the dying liner. Gorgias wondered if there was fear aboard the Federation ships as they examined the Herculean design on their screens. What were they thinking as they stared at the Whisper Ship, a legendary shape far out of its time?
They were coming fast now, growing in size until the screen switched to normal and they were plainly visible as bright stars no more than a few hundred kilometers away.
Automatically, the Whisper Ship began to pull away, shrinking Sagan IV to a blue point. The ship switched, blackening the stars and affixing them to a backdrop of desolate gray. The pursuers were gone.
Gorgias waited for two black dots to appear in the warp. A minute went by, two minutes; after five minutes there was still no pursuit.
“Are we running?”
He turned around and saw his father standing in the center of the cabin. Fear and sadness crowded into the older man’s face, constricting his muscles as if he had been crying. The old Herculean was a disgrace to his traditions.
“The liner is destroyed, and we’ve lost the hunters.”
His father closed his eyes. “Where are we going now?”
“I want Myraa and the others to know before we return to base.”
“It will impress them, you think.”
“It will inspire the others, perhaps, and she can’t help being affected.”
“Don’t you see — it’s your way of stealing courage.”
“I don’t see that at all.”
His father walked up to him and struck him across the face with the back of his hand.
“You have no right!”
The old Herculean struck him again. The blow threw him back in the chair. “I’m going to beat you until you can’t walk, until I can lock you up like a beast and not care.”
“Coward,” Gorgias said as he rubbed his face.
His father lunged at him and seized his throat. Gorgias felt powerful hands close on his windpipe and squeeze.
With great effort, Gorgias lifted his father by the waist and they both fell to the floor, older man on the bottom. The angry hands relaxed their hold on his throat and Gorgias struggled onto his feet.
He turned and looked at the screen. Two black dots had appeared.
“Look — hunters! I can’t bother with you now. Go back
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