The exultant and triumphant news about the outbreak of a disintegration war was picked up by Ala Veg on Space Station Dei-mo.
Terribly frightened, unable to believe her own eyes, she read the automatically taped report in which there was news of disintegration strike unleashed on Danjab, the continent of the Gutturals, about the extermination of tens of millions of the enemy, if not more.
With the sole feeling that the explosions had fortunately taken place on the other continent and her children were alive, Ala Veg ran out to report about this terrible event to Mrak Luton, the station commander.
He did not admit her. Puffed up and pompous, as if his office had been invaded by dozens of Faetians awaiting an audience, he made Ala Veg stand for a long time outside the door before he let her in.
He glanced over the proffered papers, stood up and shouted hoarsely:
"Joy! This means happiness for us! May they be without end, the cycles in the blissful life of Dictator Yar Jupi! At last it has come to pass! The continent of Danjab is being cleansed of the scum that settled there!"
Nega Luton ran in and, after a glance at the papers, threw her arms round Ala Veg's neck.
"What happiness, my dear! At last our mission here is being accomplished and the roundheads needn't move to this accursed Mar, but will be settled on the newly available spaces of Faena. I've been so homesick for comforts, services and refined society. Haven't you too, my dear?"
Ala Veg seemed turned to stone.
"Is the disintegration war over already?" was all she could manage to say.
"Not yet, of course!" announced Mrak Luton portentously, "but this war will be won by whoever delivers the most devastating salvo. And we are going to do the same too."
"Who are 'we'?" asked Ala Veg uncomprehendingly.
Mrak Luton sounded the general alarm and left his office for the big cabin next door in which Mada and Ave had stayed only recently.
Soon, the entire crew of the space station was assembled there. The timid Tycho Veg came, as did the flustered, out-of-breath Brat and Lada Lua.
Mrak Luton read out the news concerning the annihilation of Danjab's main cities.
Nega Luton closely watched the expressions on the faces of those present. She did not miss Brat Lua's horror. His now pale face was like polished bone. Lada Lua burst into tears.
"I will not tolerate treachery," Mrak Luton shouted at her, "even if it expresses itself in pity for the enemy. I order an automatic ship to be sent to Phobo immediately."
"What? To the enemy?" said Nega Luton in astonishment.
"With a disintegration warhead," explained Mrak Luton.
"That's another matter." And Nega Luton sighed with relief.
"The gentle lady should be ashamed to say such things!" Lada Lua could not help saying. "She is a Sister of Health, after all!"
"Silence!" roared Mrak Luton. "Engineer Tycho Veg and assistant servant Brat Lua! In the name of the Dictator, I order you to fit a missile with a disintegration warhead on the station's ship and program it for automatic flight to Phobo."
"A disintegration warhead?" asked Tycho Veg. "But there isn't one on the station."
Mrak Luton roared with laughter so that his flabby jowls quivered.
"Don't be so naive. Engineer Tycho Veg! You will find the warhead in space at the end of the greenhouse to which it was delivered as a spare cabin for the ship."
"I object, profoundly thoughtful Mrak Luton," exclaimed Brat Lua. "The blessed Dictator of Powermania concluded a treaty with the Ruler of Dan jab. There cannot be any disintegration weapon in space."
"Treachery!" roared Mrak Luton. "You're under arrest, you roundhead traitor! Engineer Tycho Veg, tie the mutineer's hands!"
Tycho Veg glanced in indecision at his wife.
"If the disintegration war has begun, it means... Clearly, all treaties are invalid," she said timidly.
Tycho Veg reluctantly obeyed the order. He and Mrak Luton pushed Brat Lua into the chief's office. Mrak Luton locked the door.
"Now proceed to the greenhouse, quickly," he ordered Tycho Veg. "I took measures for the disintegration warhead to be close at hand!.."
With a glance at his wife, Tycho Veg went despondently to the lift-cage.
"I proclaim the station to be in a state of emergency. Any act of disobedience will be dealt with not by arrest, but with a poisoned bullet!" And Mrak Luton brandished his pistol.
"Gentle sir, please spare my husband. He didn't know that the treaty wasn't valid any more," said Lada Lua, rushing up to the station chief.
"Quick march to your stations, all of you!" roared Mrak Luton. "The astronomer Ala Veg will report all space observations to me and maintain electromagnetic communications. But your place, roundhead woman, is in the kitchen."
Mrak Luton collapsed into his armchair, exhausted. His rectangular face with the pendulous jowls went purple, his neck swelled. He tugged at his collar, unable to breathe properly for want of air.
On the other Marian orbit, on the station near Phobo, news of the disintegration war had been brought by Engineer Vydum (Inventor) Polar. His intelligent face, always keenly alert, now expressed horror and dismay. He had earned his name for an early inclination to invention. He had once built a walking steamcar, had made magnetic fastenings for clothes and sprung running shoes, and had obtained a fine strip of dried wood which in some other age on some other planet would have been called paper. He was invariably assisted by his friend, the talented, always cheerful, small and mercurial craftsman Al Ur, who regarded Vydum as an unrecognized genius. He was with him this time too, and had hurried after him into the station chief's office to back his friend's demands.
There was one more Faetian who had taken note of the unsuccessful inventor. This was Dovol (Content) Sirus, a powerful proprietor. He was not averse to profiting by Vydum Polar's abilities, and, on his wife's advice, had married Vydum to Sveta, his daughter by his first marriage, a mild, quiet girl, totally submissive to her powerful stepmother, who ruled the family with a rod of iron in order to further its social influence.
Dovol Sirus, a sleek, almost bald Faetian with heavy features and thin lips, took fright on meeting Vydum Polar.
Usually genial, always ready to agree with the other person, he was the personification of prosperity, sufficiency and equanimity. But his peace of mind had now been shattered. His small eyes darted here and there almost in dismay. When he heard Vydum Polar's news, he promptly sent out a call for the greenhouse nurserywoman, his wife Vlasta Sirus.
Vydum Polar passionately tried to drive his point home to the station chief.
"I am prepared personally to take a ship to Deimo, and I am prepared to take my wife and Mila Ur. Her husband will stay behind with you to look after the machinery. Space has been declared peaceful. The war of disintegration that has just broken out is our common misfortune: we must share it with the personnel on Deimo."
Dovol Sirus nodded his agreement, glancing at the door from time to time.
Sveta was his favourite.
On the insistence of his vociferous wife Vlasta, Dovol Sirus had made use on Faena of the pre-war jitters to acquire influence over Dobr Mar in Danjab. He had even obtained the rank of general from him. True, when a disintegration war became imminent, Vlasta Sirus made General Sirus get as far away from Faena as possible and become chief of a space station, taking his stepdaughter with him and her luckless husband.
"You'll fly from here, but what about us?" asked Dovol Sirus uncertainly.
"We'll come back as soon as we've discussed with our unfortunate brothers from Faena what's to be done next.."
"What's the meaning of all this gadding about?" came the fruity voice of Vlasta Sirus as she entered the room. "I shall never let Sveta go. I am as a mother to her."
"But, my dear-" objected the station chief.
"What if the people on Deimo take our ship for a torpedo? They've got defence rockets too, you know."
"But, my dear..."
"'My dear, my dear'!" mimicked Vlasta. "We have a daughter we love. She must be rescued. By any possible means."
Vlasta Sirus cast a withering glance at her husband from under knitted brows and compressed her thin lips.
"But my dear... I promise you. Our ship will surely fly to Station Deimo. And you and I, you and I only, will appoint the crew members."
Vlasta Sirus slapped the table with the flat of her hand.
"Exactly-you and I. And that will be the most reliable crew! We must preserve our lives! Preserve them! In this war, what matters most is to survive!" And she ran a glare of hatred over all three Faetians. "To survive!"
Helplessly wringing his hands. Brat Lua was pacing up and down inside the office that was now his prison.
Tycho Veg was uncomplainingly carrying out his assignment without even giving a thought to the possibility that the disintegration warhead in the spare cabin might be inadequately screened and dangerous to any Faetian who approached it.
To get to the spare cabin, he had to float all the way along the greenhouse through the air-roots that seemed to be trying to hold him back. But he pulled his weightless body forward by clutching at them so as to carry out as quickly as possible the chief's order, which had been confirmed by a nod from Ala Veg. He tried not to think about his children's fate, as he tried not to think about anything at all: neither the Faetians on Station Phobo, nor himself. In spite of himself, however, he was thinking that there were only two spaceships at the station. Would six people be able to fly to their native planet in one ship? Of course not! It was only a three-seater. Evidently, they would have to wait for another ship from Faena.
The spare cabin, which resembled a conical cap, was floating not far from the long cigar of the ship, to which it was attached by a cable.
Tycho Veg put on his space-suit and, securing himself with a line, kicked himself off from the greenhouse airlock and floated off into the silvery darkness of space.
He miscalculated and did not reach his goal straightway. He had to wind himself back by pulling in the line hand over hand and then push off again.
This time, he propelled himself with one leg only so as to give his jump better direction.
The spare cabin looked rough to him, like a meteorite. Tycho Veg clung to it and crawled towards the base of the cone, where the cable to the spaceship was secured.
He seized hold of the metal bracket outside the spare cabin and taking up the cable that ran to the ship, began pulling it towards him together with the cabin. After a short time, the cabin came into contact with the ship. Tycho Veg had steeled himself for a tough job. To his great astonishment, however, he noticed that the parts of the ship had been designed for instant replacement. It only needed one contact with the joint for the automatic machinery inside to be activated and for the old cabin to detach itself easily from this ship and sail away towards the stars. The new cabin fitted itself into place with the same ease.
Tycho Veg crawled inside to set the automatic pilot.
Another surprise awaited him inside: there was no need for him to readjust the settings.
The impersonal voice of the automatic machine warned him about this the moment he touched the control panel. All he had to do was to switch on the automatic pilot and go back to the greenhouse.
As soon as he was there, he saw the rocket's nozzles begin blazing; after making a precisely calculated turn, the ship headed for Phobo on a course that had been unerringly checked by the machines.
Tycho Veg sighed. He had only been doing his duty. He never even gave a thought to whether the warhead had been properly screened.
When he emerged from the lift-cage into the station corridor, he was met by a pale and trembling Ala Veg.
"What's happened, darling?" asked Tycho.
"Our children... Children..." was all that she could say, and she burst into tears.
She was holding in her hands a tablet inscribed with the latest news by electromagnetic communication. Tycho read it and swayed, resting his hand on the lift-cage door.
The news was that flocks of disintegration torpedoes from Danjab had descended on the continent of the Superiors. There had been devastation and casualties... But Yar Jupi foresaw victory and demanded rejoicing.
Mrak Luton ran into the corridor, waving his arms.
"The Dictator is alive! The Dictator is alive! The Blood Council is continuing the struggle! To your stations! This is a space outpost!"
"Can our observer be in her place?" sneered Nega Luton, who had appeared after him. "She should be worrying about her relatives, not about winning the war."
Her eyes flashing, Ala Veg went into the observatory. Tycho Veg was left standing in the corridor. He just couldn't make sense of what was happening; he just couldn't believe that his native Pleasure City might be lying in ruins, and his children...
He followed his wife into the observatory.
"I can't keep watch because of my tears," said Ala Veg as she turned to him. "Take my place at the instrument. A strange star has appeared in that quarter."
"Could it be our ship with the warhead?"
"No, it's somewhere else."
Tycho began helping his wife and they soon established that the unknown star was not obeying the usual laws of celestial mechanics and seemed to be choosing its own flight trajectory.
Summoned by the alarm signal, Mrak Luton rushed into the observatory and peered suspiciously at Tycho and Ala Veg.
"News from Faena? Orders from the Dictator? An instruction from the Blood Council?"
"No," replied Ala Veg. "Communications have broken down. We have also lost contact with Station Phobo."
"With Phobo?" bellowed Mrak Luton. "Treachery? Who dared to communicate with Phobo, the enemy fortress in space?" He drew his pistol and brandished it threateningly at them.
"I am simply reporting that communications with them do not exist. The former channel has gone dead, as if something had happened there."
"It hasn't happened yet! But it soon will! Are you watching our torpedo's flight?"
"It's flying dead on course, but..."
"What else?"
"It's being intercepted by an unidentified ship. Apparently from Phobo. It seems to be heading for us. Is it possible that the station personnel have packed and are flying to us?"
Mrak Luton roared with laughter.
"So as to surrender? To dump themselves on us? To gobble up our food supplies? To breathe our oxygen? Or do they want to escape the punitive torpedo?"
"But they might not know we sent it."
"But I know their ship's coming our way. Engineer Tycho Veg, I order you to fire a defence rocket. The approaching ship must be destroyed."
"What d'you mean 'destroyed'?" protested Ala Veg. "Mightn't there be living Faetians on board?"
"Living Faetians?" jeered Mrak Luton. "As if there were living Faetians flying in our ship with the warhead! I've issued my orders. Send out defence rockets, knock it out, destroy it!" Mrak Luton stamped his foot in a frenzy and brandished his pistol.
Tycho Veg left the observatory. He knew where the defence rockets were. They were not covered by the Agreement on Peace in Outer Space. They were short-range missiles and could not reach another station, but they were capable of locating in space and destroying the target approaching Deimo.
To activate these defence weapons, Tycho Veg did not have to descend into the greenhouse. It was enough to go to Station Deimo's Central Console.
He fired the defence rockets when the ship from Station Phobo was clearly distinguishable as a point glittering in Sol's rays.
He returned to his wife in the observatory, looking dejected and drained of his strength. He felt he had done something dreadful.
Ala Veg could not hold back her tears.
"There are Faetians on board, there could be living Faetians on board," she kept repeating. "And no news from Faena."
"Our children can't possibly have been killed," said Tycho Veg, who had no grounds whatever for such a statement.
He squinted through the eyepiece and saw something flare up in space like a nova. One of defence rockets had exploded on encountering the ship from Phobo.
On the big screen displaying the image, the ship-star plunged steeply after the explosion towards the surface of Mar. It had been knocked out of orbit by the force of the blast, but not destroyed.
All the Faetians on the station assembled in the observatory, except for the imprisoned Brat Lua. Mrak Luton personally came to fetch him.
"Let him watch!" he said, pushing Lua into the observatory and showing him the mass of Mar in the porthole. "Let him watch with his own eyes!"
"Are you so sure that'll knock some sense into him?" asked Nega Luton quietly.
Her husband grinned complacently.
"I know the inner world of the Faetians too well to be wrong. Otherwise I wouldn't be Supreme Officer of the Blood Guard."
The six Faetians on Deimo saw another star flare up in space and go out again.
"They've knocked out our torpedo!" And Mrak Luton stamped his foot.
Then, on the surface of Mar, two disintegration explosions occurred in succession. In the russet deserts, the trunks of fabulous trees could be seen from space as they soared up into the sky, billowing out into swirling canopies. The distinct shadows of first one and then a second gigantic mushroom lay across the sandy wilderness.
"What did I tell you!" roared Mrak Luton. "They wanted to be the .first to wipe us out. Their ship with its warhead exploded first. But you were just whining, you were talking about living Faetians."
"The station chief is right," sighed Tycho Veg. "He can see into the Faetian soul."
"Engineer Tycho Veg! Stop drivelling! I know what I'm worth! Go back to the greenhouse at once and fit one more ship with a torpedo."
"But we won't have any more ships left," said Tycho in an attempt at protest.
"Victory! Victory at all costs! A ship will be sent for us as heroes of the disintegration war from the triumphant continent of the Superiors."
"To hear is to obey," said Tycho Veg with a covert glance at Ala Veg.
But she sat with bowed head, her hands dangling down in despair.
Tycho Veg left to set up another ship-torpedo.
However, this second missile was also knocked out by defence rockets fired by the Culture Is on Phobo.
A second volley of defence rockets was launched from Deimo to beat off yet another ship that was glittering in the rays of Sol and might also have been primed with a disintegration warhead.
Both ships, the one from Phobo and the one from Deimo, blew up almost side by side in the deserts of Mar. First, monstrous mushrooms on stalks of smoke rose up on the site of the explosions, and then, when the smoke had dispersed, it was possible to see from above craters in the deserts of Mar which had not been there before.
"How amazed the astronomers would be," said Ala Veg in a sinking voice, "if they found craters like that on Mar."
Tycho did not react at all to these words. He had barely reached the Central Console from which he had been discharging the defence rockets. He was feeling really ill this time. It seemed to him that there had been children flying to them in the ships and that they had been killed.