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the Saurons would provide for him after this - but his
brain stubbornly refused to shut down.
Diettinger rose. "I serve a race fighting for its independence from a regime
that does not understand our motives and cannot possibly appreciate our goals.
That makes me a patriot, Captain Adderly. You serve that regime, enforcing its
will on hundreds of planets, regardless of whether they want you there or not.
What does that make you?"
Adderly glared at the Sauron. "Patriot? Freedom fighter, maybe? Like hell; you
think you're the first ones to trot out that old saw? You started your 'war of
independence' by an unprovoked attack on St.
Ekaterina! A billion people, Diettinger! You think you can justify that? Go
ahead, give it a shot!"
Diettinger appeared honestly puzzled. "We don't 'justify' our actions, Captain
Adderly, any more than you explain your motivations to the family pet. Sauron
is the cradle of the ultimate expression of the human race; and that is a
far greater responsibility. than suffering public censure over the removal of
a threat like St. Ekaterina, or an inconvenience like her mongrelized
population of convicts, thieves, and other non-productives."
"Inconvenience ..." and for the first time since being captured, Adderly was
truly afraid. Not for his life, or any of his crew that might also have been
captured; not for the convoy, or even the Empire. He was suddenly very afraid
for all mankind.
The Saurons were making a ruin of the Empire, and they were losing the war.
What would they make of humanity if they won?
"I will assume this map to be useless, of course," Diettinger said, "so we
will carry out the battle, and people will die on both sides; a waste, since
the population of Tanith is regarded as genetically promising.
But understand, Captain Adderly, it is immaterial to me whether their
casualties are one or one hundred million, I will have the borloi, you have my
word on it.
The outcome is decided. I merely wished to give you the opportunity to decide
the means."
He gestured to the guards, who lifted Adderly to his feet. "See that his
spacesuit is intact. Provide him with a rescue beacon and put him out the
airlock."
Adderly was stunned. "What?"
The Sauron looked back at him with his remaining eye. "I have given my word to
you on two counts today, Captain Adderly. I want you to see that I am reliable
on the one, so that you will not make another mistake by doubting the
other."
One of the Chinthes picked him up a few hours later.
Diettinger was back on the bridge, the left side of his face hidden in
bandages.
How could 1 have been so stupid? Haven't I seen the evidence of their hatred
for us a thousand times? Didn't I see it again, today, when they were
witting to risk a conflagration aboard their own ship just to finish off
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Saurons they thought were already trapped, and probably dead?
Diettinger found the idea of such hatred difficult to credit, and impossible
to justify. Saurons were trained from birth to accept the nature of the
human species as being emotional, rational, predatory, dominant. To
these and the dozens of other adjectives summing up the Sauron version of
the human condition, the race that called themselves "The Soldiers" had added
a final qualifying virtue: efficient. The level of passion which human norms
applied to their activities in general and their relations with Saurons in
particular was, Diettinger felt, conspicuous in its lack of appreciation for
that virtue.
There was something about them that made personal dealings difficult,
diplomacy impractical and surrender for either side impossible, and
Diettinger found it all . . . what?
Wasteful, he realized, but the confusion and distaste he felt was not so
easily summarized as that.
And yet the degree of the human norms' hatred for Saurons was no more than the
Saurons' degree of contempt for them; probably less, Diettinger thought.
Some Sauron commanders in the Secession War regarded the conflict as
one of extermination;
Diettinger was not one of these, but gingerly probing the wounded side of his
face, he wondered if all human norms might not be.
His depth perception was gone, of course. Adderly's throw had been very
strong, and the optic nerve itself had been ruined. Damned nuisance; it would
mean at least a week in regeneration therapy, but there was nothing for it; he
couldn't very well wear an eyepatch like some ancient pirate captain.
Fomoria was in high orbit off Tanith again, now accompanied by theCanadaas a
prize ship. Tanith spaceport's Langston Field was on, and with an atmosphere
and plenty of ground water to dissipate energy into, it could hold off
against a dozen Fomorias indefinitely. Laser communications antennae lofted by
Quilland's unit pierced the Field in a dozen places to establish
contact with the Sauron warship.
Fighting for the spaceport was reported heavy, but indecisive. Despite the
numerical superiority of the
Imperials, the large ratio of Cyborgs augmenting the already potent Sauron
force prevented them from mounting any assault that would not require leveling
the spaceport, and this they were understandably reluctant to do.
"CyborgKoln; status on the objective?"
"Material located and secured, First Rank."
Splendid; an eye lost for nothing. Diettinger sighed. Ah, well. Live and
learn. . . .
"Deathmaster Quilland; enemy anti-aerospace strength?"
"Marginal, First Rank; the Imperials have been arriving piecemeal,
disorganized. We assume this is a result of poor surface transportation
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