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I think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain-fleet one time more, and in so doing get the beginning of a fleet for defense. I insist, however, that it must not be used in combat! We might as well be sensible about this situation! After all, four shiploads of grain won't break the famine! They'll help a lot, but they're only the beginning of what's needed for a planetary population!"
"You'd rather it was that way." She looked at him for a long time, until he squirmed. Then she nodded and went away. An hour later the Wealdian space-fleet was reported, massed in space and driving for Dara. There were small scout-ships which came on ahead of the main fleet. They'd originally been guard-boats, intended for solar-system duty only and quite incapable of overdrive.
Calhoun said pleasantly, "I'm sure that what I say is being recorded, so that I'll add that it's perfectly practical for Wealdians to land on Dara, take whatever property they think wise to pay for damage done by blueskins, of course and get back to Wealdian ships with absolutely no danger of carrying contagion. If you'll make sure the recording's clear...."
He saw his guest's eyes shine a little with that joyous awe a man feels when he finds out something he has wanted long and badly to know. "Now," said Calhoun, "tell me something! Why does everybody on this planet hate the inhabitants of Dara? It's light-years away. Nobody claims to have suffered in person from them. Why make a point of hating them?" The Wealdian doctor grimaced.
The message ship, ordering the Darian fleet away from Weald, had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now! The Darians could take their choice: accept the consequences of surrender, or the fleet would rise to throw down bombs. Calhoun was asking politely to be taken to the Wealdian admiral when the trouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all.
But a fleet cannot travel some light-years through space to make a mere threat. And the Wealdian fleet was furnished with the material for total devastation. It could drop bombs from hundreds, or thousands, or even tens of thousands of miles away. It could cover the world of Dara with mushroom clouds springing up and spreading to make a continuous pall of atomic-fusion products.
Many men in sag-suits had still no idea that anything had gone wrong. Some appeared, brightly carrying loot. Some hung eagerly around the airlocks of ships on the grid tarmac, waiting their turns to stand in corrosive gases for the decontamination of their suits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, aseptic and happy, into a Wealdian ship again.
The Wealdian landing-party tested the grid's operation. They brought down another giant ship. Then another. And another. Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There were the huge stock-piles of precious metals, brought in readiness to be surrendered and carried away. Some men set to work to load these into the holds to be sterilized later.
And they could settle down and kill every living thing not destroyed by the explosions themselves. Even the creatures of the deepest oceans would die of deadly, purposely-contrived fallout particles. The Wealdian fleet contemplated its own destructiveness. It found no capacity for defense on Dara. It moved forward. But then a message went out from the capital city of Dara.
The fourth came down to ground on the following day. When Calhoun faced the executive and cabinet of Dara for the second time his tone and manner were very dry. "Now," he said curtly, "I would like a few more astrogators to train. I think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain fleet one more time, and in so doing get the beginning of a fleet for defense.
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