An amused expression crept over Petrical's face. "And just what do you plan to do with them?"
"We're going through the passage when it opens up," Dalt replied. "Maybe we can end these attacks once and for all."
Amusement was abruptly replaced by consternation. "Oh no, you're not! You're too valuable to risk on a suicide mission!"
"Unfortunately, I'm the only one who can do what must be done," Dalt said with a glare, "and since when do you dictate what I may and may not do."
But Petrical had been involved in too many verbal brawls on the floor of the General Council to be easily intimidated, even by The Healer. "I'll tell you what I will do, and that's have no part in helping you get yourself killed!"
"Mr. Petrical," Dalt said in a low voice, "do I have to outfit my own flitter and go through alone?"
Petrical opened his mouth for a quick reply and then closed it. He knew when he was outflanked. With the new General Council arriving for the emergency session, all that was needed to bring the walls tumbling down upon his head was news that he had let The Healer take the war to the enemy alone—with no backup from the Federation Defense Force.
"But the probes were your idea. ..."
"The probes have been rendered obsolete by new information. The only solution is to go through."
"Well then, let me send a bigger force."
"No." Dalt shook his head. "If these six flitters can't do the job, then six hundred wouldn't make any difference."
"All right." Petrical grunted with exasperation. "I'll get the armorers down here and start asking for volunteers."
Dalt's smile was genuine. "Thanks. And don't delay—we may not have much time. Oh, and have an alarm system set up here in the hangar to notify us the minute a vortex is sighted. We'll live in and around the flitters until the attack comes. I'll brief your men on what to expect and what to do."
Petrical nodded with obvious reluctance.
("Why haven't I been consulted on any of this?") Pard asked indignantly as Dalt returned to his quarters.
Because I already know your answer.
("I'm sure you do. It's all insanity and I want no part of it!")
You don't have much choice.
("Be reasonable!")
Pard, this is something we must do.
("Why?") The voice in his head was angry. ("To live up to your legend?")
In a way, yes. You and I are the only ones who can beat her.
("You're sure of that?")
Aren't you? Pard did not reply and Dalt felt a sudden chill. Answer me: Are you afraid of this Kali creature?
("Yes.")
Why should you be? You defeated her at every turn when we were battling the horrors.
("That was different. There was no direct contact there. We were merely fighting the residue of her influence, a sort of resonating circuit of afterimages. We've only come into direct contact with her once ... on the beach on Clutch. And you know what happened there.")
Yeah, Dalt replied slowly. We were blasted apart.
("Exactly. This creature's psi powers are immense. She's keyed her whole existence toward developing them because her dominion over her race springs from them. I estimate she had a four-thousand-year head start on us. All the defense precautions around her island temple—the energy dampers, the guards with their ridiculous costumes and ancient weapons—would not stand up against a single mercenary soldier in regulation battle gear. They're trappings required by her paranoia. The real defense system of that temple is in her mind. She can psionically fry any brain in her star system that threatens her. Short of an automated Federation dread-naught turning her entire planet to ash—and we have no way of getting one within half a galaxy of her—she's virtually impregnable.")
Pard paused for effect, then: ("You still want to go after her?")
Dalt hesitated, but only briefly. Yes.
("Insanity!") Pard exploded. ("Sheer, undiluted, raving insanity! Usually I can follow your reasoning, but this is one big blur. Is there some sort of racial urge involved? Do you feel you owe it to humanity to go down fighting? Is this a noble gesture or what?")
I don't know, exactly.
("You're right, you don't know! You owe your race nothing! You've given it far more than it's given you. Your primary responsibility is to yourself. Sacrificing your—our—life is a meaningless gesture!")
It's not meaningless. And if we succeed, it won't be a sacrifice.
("We have about as much chance of defeating her as we have of growing flowers on a neutron star. I forbid it!")
You can't. You owe it. ("To whom?")
To me. This is my life and my body. You've augmerited it, improved it, and extended it, true, but you've shared equally in the benefits. It remains my life and you've shared it. I'm asking for an accounting.
Pard waited a long time before giving his reply. ("Very well, then. We'll go.") There was a definite edge on the thought. ("But neither of us should make any long-range plans.")
With the flitters armed, the volunteers briefed, and the practice runs made, Dalt and his crew settled down for an uneasy vigil.
Think we'll have a long wait? Dalt asked.
("I doubt it. The Kalians looked almost set to go when I saw them.")
Well, at least we'll get enough sleep. If there's been any consistency at all in the attacks, it's been their occurrence in daylight hours.
("That may not be the case this time. If my guess is right and they are aiming for Fed Central, their tactics might be different. For all we know, they may just want to set up a device to destroy the Federation Complex.")
Dalt groaned softly. That would be a crippling coup.
("Nonsense! The Federation is more than a few buildings. It's a concept... an idea."
It's also an organization; and if there's one thing we need now, it's organization. There's a nucleus of a new Federation growing over at the General Council at this moment. Destroy that and organized resistance will be completely unraveled.
("Perhaps not.")
Kalians are united wholeheartedly behind their goddess. Who've we got?