Contents ( 53)
- Call Me Joe
- Editor’s Introduction
- Poul Anderson by Greg Bear
- Call Me Joe
- Prayer in War
- Tomorrow’s Children
- Kinnison’s Band
- The Helping Hand
- Wildcat
- Clausius’ Chaos
- Journey’s End
- Heinlein’s Stories
- Logic
- Time Patrol
- The First Love
- The Double-Dyed Villains
- To a Tavern Wench
- The Immortal Game
- Backwardness
- Haiku
- Genius
- There Will Be Other Times
- The Live Coward
- Ballade of an Artificial Satellite
- Time Lag
- The Man Who Came Early
- Autumn
- Turning Point
- Honesty
- The Alien Enemy
- Eventide
- Enough Rope
- The Sharing of Flesh
- Barbarous Allen
- Welcome
- Flight to Forever
- Sea Burial
- Barnacle Bull
- To Jack Williamson
- Time Heals
- MacCannon
- The Martian Crown Jewels
- Then Death Will Come
- Prophecy
- Einstein’s Distress
- Kings Who Die
- Ochlan
- Starfog
- Want to read more?
- About the Author, Artist, and Publisher
- Publication History
- Acknowledgments
- Praise for the works of Poul Anderson
He leaned back, crossed one long leg over the other, and regarded the American candidly. “Of course, as you implied, we would have proceeded somewhat differently,” he said. “Our men would not have known what they carried, and the explosion would have been triggered posthypnotically, by some given class of situations, rather than consciously. In that way, there would be less chance of betrayal.”
“How did you know, anyway?” Diaz sighed.
Rostock gave him an impish grin. “As the villain of this particular little drama, I shall only say that I have my methods.” Suddenly he was grave. “One reason we made so great an effort to pick you up before your own rescue party arrived, was to gather data on what you have been doing, you people. You know how comparatively rare it is to get a prisoner in space warfare; and how hard to get spies into an organization of high morale which maintains its own laboratories and factories off Earth. Divergent developments can go far these days, before the other side is aware of them. The miniaturization involved in your own weapon, for example, astonished our engineers.”
“I can’t tell you anything else,” Diaz said.
“Oh, you could,” Rostock answered gently. “You know as well as I what can be done with a shot of babble juice. Not to mention other techniques—nothing melodramatic, nothing painful or disabling, merely applied neurology—in which I believe Unasia is ahead of the Western countries. But don’t worry, Captain. I shall not permit any such breach of military custom.
“However, I do want you to understand how much trouble we went to, to get you. When combat began, I reasoned that the ships auxiliary to a dreadnaught would be the likeliest to suffer destruction of the type which leaves a few survivors. From the pattern of action in the first day, I deduced the approximate orbits and positions of several American capital ships. Unasia tactics throughout the second day were developed with two purposes: to inflict damage, of course, but also to get the Ho so placed that we would be likely to detect any distress signals. This cost us the Genghis—a calculated risk that did not pay off—I am not omniscient. But we did hear your call.
“You are quite right about the importance of this ship here. My superiors will be horrified at my action. But of necessity, they have given me carte blanche. And since the Ho itself takes no direct part in any engagement if we can avoid it, the probability of our being detected and attacked was small.”
Rostock’s eyes held Diaz’s. He tapped the table, softly and repeatedly, with one fingernail. “Do you appreciate what all this means, Captain?” he asked “Do you see how badly you were wanted?”
Diaz could only wet his lips and nod.
“Partly,” Rostock said, smiling again, “there was the desire I have mentioned, to…er…check up on American activities during the last cease-fire period. But partly, too, there was a wish to bring you up to date on what we have been doing.”