“Aye,” he conceded, his unwillingness plain upon him, “ye can use that metaphor if ye insist.”

  For a moment, she wished she hadn’t asked. What had it gained her? A figure of speech, scarcely anything else. And what a chilling image it was. Not alone the fact of berserker auxiliaries ripping minerals out of planets and asteroids, digesting them to fineness, turning them into new machines which carried the same code as the old, the same drive to kill. No, what made her shiver was the sudden thought of the whole hollow universe as a womb engendering the agents of death, which later came back and impregnated their mother anew.

  Dunbar’s words brought deliverance. His mood had lightened, unless for some reason he wanted to divert her from her idea. “Ye’re a sharp one indeed,” he said almost cordially. “I look forward to better acquaintance. Here we are. Welcome.”

  Officers’ quarters were individual chambers, four meters square. That sufficed for a bed, desk, shelves, dresser, closet, a couple of chairs, floor space for pacing if you grew excited or simply needed to ease tension. The desk held a computer terminal, eidophone, writing equipment, papers; the occupant must often work as well as sleep on the spot.

  Sally looked around, curious. Fluorescent lighting fell chill on plastered walls and issue carpeting. Personal items were on hand, though—pictures, a few souvenir objects, a pipe rack and ashtaker, a tea set and hotplate, a small tool kit, a half-finished model of a sailing ship on ancient Earth. “Sit ye down,” Dunbar urged. “Can I brew us a pot? I’ve oolong, jasmine, green, lapsang soochong, as ye prefer.”

  She accepted, chose, granted him permission to smoke. “And why not shut the door, Captain?” she proposed. “It’s so noisy outside. I’m sure you’re trustworthy.”

  “Thank ye.” Did an actual blush pass beneath that leathery tan? He busied himself. The largest picture was a landscape, valley walled by heights, lake agleam in the foreground. It did not otherwise resemble Geyserdale. Ground cover was sparse Terrestrial grass and heather. Cedars sheltered a low house from winds that had twisted them into troll shapes. A glassy-bottomed crater marred a mountainside; stone had run molten thence, before congealing into lumps and jumbles. Clouds brooded rain over the ridges. Above them daylight picked out the pale crescents of two moons.

  “Is that scene from Adam?” she inquired.

  “Aye, he said. “Loch Aytoun, where I was born and raised.”

  “It seems to have…suffered.”

  He nodded. “A berserker warhead struck Ben Creran. The area was slow to recover, and has ne’er been fertile again as ’twas formerly.” He sighed. “Though ’twas lucky compared to many. We’ve deserts fused solid like yon pit. Other places, air turned momentarily to plasma and soil vaporized down to bedrock. And yet other places—but let’s no’ discuss that, pray.”

  She studied his lean form. “So your family isn’t rich,” she deduced.

  “Och, nay.” He barked a laugh. “The financiers and shipping barons are no’ as common among us as folklore has it. My parents were landholders, on land that yielded little. They wrung a wee bit extra out o’ the waters.” Proudly: “But they were bound and determined their children would ha’ it better.”

  “How did you yourself achieve that?”

  “Scholarships through engineering school. Later, well-paid jobs, especially beyond our own planetary system.”

  You’d have to have considerable talent to do that, she thought. Her gaze wandered to another picture near the desk: a teen-age boy and girl. “Are those youngsters yours?”

  “Aye.” His tone roughened. “My wife and I were divorced. She took custody. ’Twas best, I being seldom home. That was the root reason why Ellen left. I see them whene’er I can.”

  “You couldn’t have taken a sedentary position?” she asked low.

  “I do no’ seem to be the type. I mentioned to ye before that I wanted to be a planetologist, but saw no openings.”

  “Like my father,” she blurted.

  “He is a planetologist?”

  “Yes. Professor at a college in western Oregon, if that means anything to you. He doesn’t do much field work any more, but it used to take him away for long stretches. Mother endured his absences, however.”

  “A remarkable lady.”

  “She loves him.” Of course she does. It was ever worth the wait, when Dad at last returned.

  “Tea’s ready,” Dunbar said, as if relieved to escape personal matters. He served it, sat down facing her with shank crossed over knee, filled and ignited his pipe.

  The brew was hot and comforting on her palate. “Good,” she praised. “Earth-grown, I’d judge. Expensive, this far out. You must be a connoisseur.”

  He grinned. It made his visage briefly endearing. “Faute de mieux. I’d liefer ha’ offered ye wine or ale, but we’re perforce austere. I daresay ye noticed the Spartan sauce on our food. Well, as that fine old racist Chesterton wrote,

  Tea, although an Oriental,

  Is a gentleman at least—

  Startled, she splashed some of hers into the saucer. “Why, you sound like my father now!”

  “I do?” He seemed honestly surprised.

  “A scholar.”

  Again he grinned. “Och, nay. ’Tis but that on lengthy voyages and in lonely encampments, a fellow must needs read.”

  A chance to probe him. “Have you developed any particular interests?”

  “Well, I like the nineteenth-century English-language writers, and history’s a bit o’ a hobby for me, especially medieval European—” He leaned forward. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about ye. What do ye enjoy?”

  “As a matter of fact,” she admitted, “I share your literary taste. And I play tennis, sketch, make noises on a flute, am a pretty good cook, play hardnose poker and slapdash chess.”

  “Let’s get up a game,” he suggested happily. “Chess, that is. I’m more the cautious sort. We should be well matched.”

  Damn, but he does have charm when he cares to use it! she thought.

  She tried putting down any further notions. The men who attracted her had always been older ones, with intelligence, who led active lives. (A touch of father fixation, presumably, but what the hell.) Dunbar, though—she would not, repeat not, call him “Ian” in her mind—he was—

  Was what? The opposition? The outright enemy?

  How to lure the truth out of him? Well, Dad used to say, “When all else fails, try frankness.”

  She set her teacup on the shelf beside her chair: a hint, perhaps too subtle, that she was declining continued hospitality. “That might be fun, Captain,” she declared, “after you’ve set me at ease about several things.”

  For an instant he looked dashed, before firmness and—resignation?—deepened the lines in his countenance. “Aye,” he murmured, “ ’twas clear ye’d raise the same questions your colleagues did. And belike more, sin’ ye’ve a keen wit and are not being rushed as they were.”

  “Also, I have a special concern,” Sally told him. “Not that the rest don’t share it, but it was bound to affect me harder than most of them. You see, my study hasn’t been the structure of the planet or the chemistry of life on it or anything like that. It’s been the natives themselves. I deal directly with them, in several cases intimately. They—certain individuals—they’ve become my friends, as dear to me as any human.”

  Dunbar nodded. “And today ye see them threatened wi’ extermination, like rats,” he said, his tone gentler than she would have expected. “Well, that’s why we came, to protect them.”

  Sally stiffened. “Captain, I know a fair amount about the berserkers. Anybody must, who doesn’t want to live in a dream universe. If a planet is undefended, and you assure me they suppose Ilya is, then a single major vessel of theirs can reduce it in a couple of days. Therefore, they’ll not likely bother to send more than that.”

  Dunbar puffed hard on his pipe. Blue clouds streams past his visage and out the ventilator. She caught a tart whiff. “Aye, we’ve based our plans on the expectation.”

  “You seem to have planted your most potent weapons, ground-based, here. The berserker will scarcely happen to show first above this horizon. No, it’ll assume orbit and start bombardment above some random location—sending a line of devastation across Ilya, from pole to pole, till it’s swung into your range.”

  “That’s what our spacecraft are mainly for, Dr. Jennison. They’re insufficient to destroy it, but they’ll draw its attention. Chasing them, it’ll come into our sights.”

  “You’re risking countless lives on that hope.”

  “Wha’ else ha’ we? I told ye, wi’out this operation, the planet is foredoomed anyhow.”

  “And you came in pure, disinterested altruism,” she challenged, “for the sake of nonhuman primitives whom none of you had ever even met?”

  He grinned afresh, but wolfishly now. “No, no. Grant us, we’d ha’ been sorry at such a cosmic tragedy. Howe’er, from our selfish viewpoint, there’ll be one berserker the less, o’ their most formidable kind.”

  She frowned, drummed fingernails on shelf, finally brought her glance clashing against his, and said: “That doesn’t make sense, you know. Considering how many units their fleet must have, your effort is out of all proportion to any possible payoff.”

  “Nay, wait, lass ye’re no’ versed in the science o’ war.”

  “I doubt any such science exists!” she spat. “And I’d like to know how you know the enemy knows about Ilya. And—”

  A siren wailed. A voice roared from loudspeakers, beat through the door, assailed her eardrums. “Attention, attention! Hear this! Red alert! Berserker scout detected! Battle stations! Full concealment action!”

  “Judas in hell!” ripped from Dunbar. He sprang out of his chair, crouched over his computer terminal, punched frantically for video input. Woop-woop-woop screamed the siren.

  Sally surged to her feet. She looked over Dunbar’s shoulder. No radar, of course, she realized, nothing like that, which the intruder might notice; instruments in use were passive, optics, neutrino detectors, forcefield meters—

  They did not spy the vessel from Lake Sapphire. The coincidences would have been enormous if it had passed above. However, from devices planted elsewhere the information, scrambled to simulate ordinary radio noise, went to the fortress. His screen showed a burnished spindle hurtling through the upper air. It passed beyond sight.

  He sagged back. She saw sweat darken his shirt beneath the arms. She felt her own. “The scout,” he whispered. “ ’Tis verified—”

  “Bandit has left atmosphere and is accelerating outward,” chanted the loudspeaker. “Reduce to yellow alert. Stand by.”

  Silence rang.

  Slowly, Dunbar straightened and turned to Sally. His voice rasped. “We’ll ha’ action soon.”

  “What did it want?” she asked, as if through a rope around her neck.

  “Why, to make sure Ilya remains unguarded.”

  “Oh…Captain, excuse me, this has been a shock, I must go rest a while.”

  Sally whirled from him and stumbled out into the hallway. “No, don’t come along, I’ll be all right,” she croaked. She didn’t look behind her to see what expression might be on his face. He didn’t seem entirely real. Nothing did.

  The knowledge grew and grew inside her, as if she were bearing a death in her womb. Why should the berserkers send a scout? The original chance discovery and whatever investigation followed, those should have been plenty. In fact, why didn’t they strike Ilya at once, weeks ago?

  Because they didn’t know, until just lately. But the Adamites say they did. And the Adamites were expecting that spy ship.

  Then it must be the Adamites who betrayed us to the enemy. Are they goodlife? Do they have some kind of treaty with the berserkers? If not, what is their aim?

  What can I do? I am alone, delivered into their hands. Must I sit and watch the slaughter go on?

  Even as she groped her way , an answer began to come.

  A few food bars were left in her baggage. She stuffed them into pockets of her coverall. Ilyan biochemistry was too unlike Terrestrial for a human to eat anything native to the planet. By the same token, she was immune to every Ilyan disease. Water would be no problem—unless it got contaminated by radioactive fallout.

  Return to Dunbar’s room, she thought desperately. If he’s still there. If not, find him. Persuade him…But how? I’m not experienced in seduction or, or anything like that…Somehow, I’ve got to talk him into covering for me.

  He saved her the trouble. A knock on her door caused her to open it. He stood outside, concern on his countenance and in his stance and voice. “Forgi’ me, I’d no’ pester ye, but ye acted so distressed— Can I do aught to help?”

  The knowledge of her power, slight though it was, came aglow in Sally like a draught of wine. Abruptly she was calm, the Zen relaxation upon her which Ito had tried to teach, and totally determined. Win or lose, she would play her hand.

  Don’t you have duties, Captain?” she asked, since that was a predictable question.

  “No’ at once. The berserker scout is definitely headed out o’ this system. ’Twill take fifty or sixty hours at least for it to report back and for a major ship to get here. Belike the time will be longer.” He hesitated, stared at the floor, clamped his fists. “Aye, they’ll soon require me for final inspections, tests, drills, briefings. But no’ immediately. Meanwhile, is there any comfort I can offer ye?”

  She pounced. “Let me go topside,” she said mutedly.

  “Wha’?” He was astonished.

  I’m not used to playing the pathetic little girl, she thought. I’ll doubtless do it badly. Well, chances are he won’t know the difference. She forced out, “It may be my last walk around this countryside I love. Oh, please Captain Dunbar—Ian—please!”

  He stood silent for several heartbeats. But he was a decisive man. “Aye, why no’? I’m sorry—surely ye’d liefer be alone—my orders are that I must accompany ye.”

  She gave him a sunburst smile. “I understand. And I don’t mind at all. Thank you, thank you.”

  “Let’s begone, if ye wish.” Willy-nilly, she found that his gladness touched her.

  Save for the pulse of machines the corridors had quieted. Men were closing down their construction jobs and preparing for combat. As she passed a chapel, Sally heard untrained singers:

  ­—Lord God o’ warrior Joshua,

  Unleash thy lightnings now!

  She wondered if the hymn spoke to Dunbar or if he had left the Kirk and become an agnostic like her.

  What did that matter?

  A ladder took them past a guard station where the sentries saluted him, and up onto desolation. A breeze off the lake cooled noontide heat. Clouds blew in ruddy-bright rags. Olga was a thin arc, with streamers of dust storm across the dark part. Sally pointed herself at a stand of trees some distance beyond this blackened section, and walked fast.

  “I take it ye want as much time as possible amidst yon life,” Dunbar ventured.

  She nodded. “Of course. How long will it remain?”

  “Ye’re too pessimistic, lass—pardon me—Dr. Jennison. We’ll smite the berserker, ne’er fear.”

  “How can you be sure? It’ll be the biggest, most heavily armed, most elaborately computer-brained type they’ve got. I’ve seen pictures, read descriptions. It’ll not only have a monstrous offensive arsenal, it’ll bristle with defenses, forcefields, antimissiles, interceptor beam projectors. Can your few destroyers, or whatever they are, can they hope to prevail against it, let alone keep it from laying—oh—enormous territories waste?”

  I told ye, their main purpose is to lure it to where our ground-based armament can take o’er.”

  “That seems a crazy gamble. It’ll be a moving target, hundreds of kilometers aloft.”

  “We’ve no’ just abundant energy to apply, we’ve knowledge o’ where to. The layout o’ such a ship is well understood, fro’ study o’ wrecks retrieved after engagements in the past.”

  Sally bit her lip. “You’re assuming the thing is…stupid. That it’ll sit passive in synchronous orbit, after failing to suspect a trap. Berserkers have outsmarted humans before now.”

  Dunbar’s tone roughened. “Aye, granted. Our computer technology is not yet quite on a par wi’ that o’ the ancient Frankensteins who first designed them. The monsters do no’ behave foreseeably, e’en in statistical fashion, the way less advanced systems do. They learn from experience; they innovate. That’s wha’s made them mortal dangers. Could we build something comparable—”

  “No!” said ingrained fear. “We could never trust it not to turn on us.”

  “M-m-m…common belief…Be that as it may, we do lack critical information. Nobody has studied a modern, updated berserker computer, save for fragments o’ the hardware. Software, nil. Wha’ few times a capture looked imminent, the thing destroyed itsel’.” Dunbar’s chuckle was harsh. “No’ that the weapons employed usually leave much to sweep up.”

  “And nevertheless you think you can trick one of their top-rated units?”

  “They’re no’ omnipotent, Dr. Jennison. They too are bound by the laws o’ physics and the logical requirements o’ tactics. Humans ha’ more than once defeated them. This will be another occasion.”

  Ash gave way to turf. “Maybe, maybe,” the woman said. “But that’s not enough for me. The berserker will fight back. It will employ its most powerful weapons. You’ve hardened your base, but what have you done to protect the neighborhood? Nothing.”

  He wilted. “We could no’,” he answered in misery. “We know naught about the natives.”

  “My colleagues do. They’d have undertaken to make arrangements with them.”

  “Rightly or wrongly, our orders were to clear your team out o’ the way immediately and completely, out fro’ underfoot, so we could get on wi’ our task,” Dunbar said shakily. “I hate the thought o’ losing lives, but wha’ we do is necessary to save the whole native species.”