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diff --git a/31767-h/31767-h.htm b/31767-h/31767-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e585c2a --- /dev/null +++ b/31767-h/31767-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1351 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Peacemaker, by Alfred Coppel + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2 {font-weight: normal;} + h1,h2,.pa1,.hd1 {text-align: center;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .blockquot {margin: 1em 10%;} + .figl {float: left; clear: left; margin: 0 1em 1em 0; padding: 0; width: 377px; text-align: left;} + .poem {margin: 1em auto; text-align: left; width: 20em;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 138px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + .bk1 {margin: 0 0 3em 0; text-align: justify;} + .hd1 {margin-bottom: 4em;} + .pa1 {margin-top: 2em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Peacemaker, by Alfred Coppel + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Peacemaker + +Author: Alfred Coppel + +Illustrator: Bob Martin + +Release Date: March 25, 2010 [EBook #31767] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PEACEMAKER *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figl"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="377" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +<i>The</i> Arrow <i>lanced down out of the night<br /> +like a spear of flame, vengeful and deadly.</i></div> + +<div class="bk1"><big><i>The legends of Jaq Merril are legion—but legends. +Hark, ye, then to the true story of the pirate benefactor +of Mankind!</i></big></div> + +<h1>THE PEACEMAKER</h1> + +<h2>By Alfred Coppel</h2> + +<p class="hd1">Illustrated by BOB MARTIN</p> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">We humans</span> are a strange +breed, unique in the Universe. +Of all the races met among +the stars, only <i>homo sapiens</i> thrives +on deliberate self-delusion. Perhaps +this is the secret of our greatness, +for we are great. In power, if not +in supernal wisdom.</p> + +<p>Legends, I think, are our +strength. If one day a man stands +on the rim of the Galaxy and looks +out across the gulfs toward the +seetee suns of Andromeda, it will +be legends that drove him there.</p> + +<p>They are odd things, these +legends, peopled with unreal creatures, +magnificent heroes and despicable +villains. We stand for no +nonsense where our mythology is +concerned. A man becoming part +of our folklore becomes a fey, one-dimensional, +shadow-image of reality.</p> + +<p>Jaq Merril—the Jaq Merril of +the history books—is such an image. +History, folklore's jade, has +daubed Merril with the rouge of +myth, and it does not become him.</p> + +<p>The Peacemaker, the chronicles +have named him, and that at least, +is accurate in point of fact. But it +was not through choice that he became +the Peacemaker; and when +his Peace descended over the +worlds of space, Merril, the man, +was finished. This I know, for I +rode with him—his lieutenant in a +dozen and more bloody fights that +earned him his ironically pacific +laurels.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Not many now living will remember +the Wall Decade. History, +ever pliable, is rewritten often, and +facts are forgotten. When it was +gone, the Wall Decade was remembered +with shame and so was expunged +from the record of time. +But I remember it well. It was an +era compounded of stupidity and +grandeur, of brilliant discovery and +grimy political maneuver. We, the +greedy men of space—and that includes +Jaq Merril—saw it end with +sorrow in our hearts, knowing that +we had killed it.</p> + +<p>If you will think back to the +years immediately preceding the +Age of Space, you may remember +the Iron Curtain. Among the nations +of the Earth a great schism +had arisen, and a wall of ideas was +built between east and west. Hydrogen +bombs were stockpiled and +armies marched and countermarched +threateningly. Men lived +with fear and hatred and distrust.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, came the years +of spaceflight and the expanding +frontiers. Luna was passed. Mars +and Venus and the Jovian Moons +felt the tread of living beings for +the first time since the dawn of +time. The larger asteroids were +taken and even the cold moonlets +of Saturn and Uranus trembled +under the blast of Terran rockets. +But the Iron Curtain still existed. +It was extended out into the gulf +of space, an intangible wall of fear +and suspicion. Thus was born the +Wall Decade.</p> + +<p>Jaq Merril was made for that +epoch. Ever in human history there +are those who profit from the stupidity +of their fellows. Jaq Merril +so profited. He dredged up the +riches of space and took them for +his own. And his weapon was man's +fear of his brothers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">It was</span> in Yakki, down-canal +from the Terran settlement at +Canalopolis, that Merril's plan was +born. His ship, the <i>Arrow</i>, stood on +the red sands of Syrtis Major, waiting +for a payload to the Outer System. +It stood among a good many +like it: the <i>Moonmaid</i>, the <i>Gay +Lady</i>, the <i>Argonaut</i>, and my own +vessel, the <i>Starhound</i>.</p> + +<p>We, the captains, had gathered +in the Spaceman's Rest—a tinkling +gin-mill peopled with human +wrecks and hungry-eyed, dusty-skinned +women who had come out +to Mars hoping for riches and had +found only the same squalor they +had left behind. I remember the +look in Merril's eyes as he spoke +of the treasures of space that would +never be ours, of the gold and +sapphires, the rubies and unearthly +gems of fragile beauty and great +price. All the riches of the worlds +of space, passing through our hands +and into the vaults of the stay-at-homes +who owned our ships and +our very lives. It seemed to me that +Merril suffered as though from +physical pain as he spoke of riches. +He was nothing if not rapacious. +Greedy, venal, ruthless. All of that.</p> + +<p>"Five of us," he said in a hard +voice, "Captains all—with ships +and men. We carry the riches of +the universe and let it slip through +our fingers. What greater fools +could there be?"</p> + +<p>Oh, he was right enough. We +had the power to command in our +hands without the sense to grasp it +firmly and take what we chose.</p> + +<p>"And mark you, my friends," +Merril said, "A wall has been built +around Mars. A wall that weakens +rather than strengthens. A wonderful, +stupid, wall...." He laughed +and glanced around the table at +our faces, flushed with wine and +greed. "With all space full of +walls," he said softly, "Who could +unite against us?"</p> + +<p>The question struck home. I +thought of the five ships standing +out there on the rusty desert across +the silted canal. Five tall ships—against +the stars. We felt no kinship +to those at home who clung to +creature comforts while we bucketed +among the stars risking our +lives and more. We, the spacemen, +had become a race apart from that +of the home planet. And Merril +saw this in our faces that night so +long ago, and he knew that he had +spoken our thoughts.</p> + +<p>Thus was born the Compact.</p> + +<p>Gods of space, but I must laugh +when I read what history has recorded +of the Compact.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Merril, filled with the wonder +of his great dream, spoke his mind +to the Captains. He told them of +the sorrow in his heart for his divided +fellow men, and his face grew +stern when he urged them to put +aside ideology and prejudice and +join with him in the Compact.</i>"</p></div> + +<p>So speaks Quintus Bland, historian +of the Age of Space. I imagine +that I hear Merril's laughter +even as I write. Oh, we put aside +ideology and prejudice, all right! +That night in Yakki the five Captains +clasped hands over the formation +of the first and only compact of +space-piracy in history!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">It was</span> an all or nothing venture. +Our crews were told nothing, +but their pockets were emptied +and their pittances joined with +ours. We loaded the five ships with +supplies and thundered off into the +cobalt Martian sky to seek a stronghold. +We found one readily enough. +The chronicles do not record it accurately. +They say that the fleet of +the Compact based itself on Eros. +This is incorrect. We wanted no +Base that would bring us so close +to the home planet every year. The +asteroid we chose was nameless, +and remained so. We spoke of it +seldom aspace, but it was ever in +our minds. There was no space +wall, there to divide us one from +the other. It was a fortress against +the rest of mankind, and in it we +were brothers.</p> + +<p>When we struck for the first time, +it was not at a Russian missile post +as the histories say. It was at the +<i>Queen of Heaven</i>, an undefended +and unsuspecting merchantman. +The records of Earth say the <i>Queen</i> +was lost in space between Uranus +and Mars, and this is so. But she +was listed lost only because no Russian +or American patrol found her +gutted hulk. I imagine that at this +very moment she hangs out beyond +Pluto, rounding the bend of the +long ellipse we sent her on that day +we stripped her bones.</p> + +<p>She carried gold and precious +stones—and more important yet, +women being furloughed home +after forced labor in the mines of +Soviet Umbriel. The <i>Starhound</i> +and the <i>Arrow</i> bracketed her a million +miles above the plane of the +ecliptic near Saturn's orbit, and +killed her. We drew abreast of her +and forced her valves. We boarded +her and took what we chose. Then +we slaughtered her men and sent +them on their long voyage. That +was the beginning.</p> + +<p>The attack against Corfu was our +next move. This is the battle that +Celia Witmar Day has described in +verse. Very bad verse.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Corfu slumbered, gorged and proud—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>While</i> Arrow, Hound <i>and</i> Maid <i>marshalled</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Freedom's might above the tyrant's ground,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And rained down death—</i>"<br /></span> +</div> + +<p>There is much more, of course. +Brave phrases of emotion and fanciful +unreality written by one who +never saw the night of space agleam +with stars.</p> + +<p>There was no talk of tyranny or +liberty aboard the <i>Hound</i> that day +we leveled with the <i>Maid</i> and the +<i>Arrow</i> a thousand miles over the +Russian Base of Corfu. There <i>was</i> +talk of the bullion stored under the +fortress' turrets.</p> + +<p>Merril's face appeared in my +visor screen, superimposed on the +image of the grimy little asteroid +floating darkly against the starfields.</p> + +<p>"Their radar has picked us up +by now, and they're wondering who +we are," he said, "Take the <i>Hound</i> +out on tangent left and join the +<i>Maid</i>. Cover my attack and stand +by to put a landing party aground."</p> + +<p>I watched the image of the +<i>Arrow</i>—a sliver of darkness against +the crescent of Corfu—lancing +down at the fortress. Her forward +tubes were glowing with the familiar +pre-discharge emanation.</p> + +<p>Below us, confusion reigned. For +the first time in memory an asteroid +Base was under attack. Merril +brought the <i>Arrow</i> in to within fifty +miles and then unleashed the fury +of his forward tubes. Hellfire coruscated +over the steel turrets and +stone walls of Corfu. It splashed +like a liquid flame over men and +metal and twisted the towers and +buttresses into spidery tendrils of +glowing thread. Corfu died without +firing a shot.</p> + +<p>We put a party from the <i>Hound</i> +aground ten hours later. Even then, +we had to wear insulated suits to +walk in that still molten inferno. +Charred bodies had become one +with the stuff of the fortress, and +nothing living was left within the +keep. We looted Corfu's treasure +and lifted into space heavy with +gold.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Time passed in an orgy of looting +for the men of the Compact. +We grew rich and arrogant, for in +space we were kings. Torn by suspicion +of one another, America and +Russia could do nothing against us. +They had built an Iron Curtain in +space, and it kept them divided +and weak.</p> + +<p>Endymion felt our blasts, and +Clio. Then came Tethys, Rhea, +Iapetus. We cared nothing for the +flag these Bases flew. They were +the gathering points for all the gold +and treasure of space and we of the +Compact took what we wished of +it, leaving a trail of blood and +rapine behind us. No nation +claimed our loyalty; space was our +mother and lust our father.</p> + +<p>Thus, the Peacemakers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">For five</span> full years—the long +years of the Outer Belt—the +<i>Arrow</i>, the <i>Starhound</i>, the <i>Moonmaid</i>, +the <i>Lady</i> and the <i>Argonaut</i> +were the scourges of the spacelanes. +No patrol could find us, and no defense +could contain us. I recall how +we laughed at the angry sputtering +of Earth's radio. Vast sums were +spent in searches and new weapons +to protect the meek and the mutually +distrustful from Merril and +the men of the Compact. Budgets, +already strained to the breaking +point by generations of the cold +war, creaked and groaned as Russians +and Americans spent furiously +to build up their defenses against +our depredations. But though we +were few and they many—space +was large and it hid us well.</p> + +<p>And then one darkling day, Jaq +Merril and I stood on the thin +methane snow that carpeted our +Base's landing ramp, waiting under +our own blue-black sky for the return +of the <i>Argonaut</i>. Merril had +sent her sunward to strike at the +mines of Loki, an asteroid where +Russian <i>komisars</i> rolled in mountains +of blood-red rubies.</p> + +<p>We waited through the day and +into the sable night, but the <i>Argonaut</i> +did not return. For the first +time since the formation of the +Compact, we had lost a ship, and +something like unease crept into +our hearts. The carousal that night +had no gaiety, and there was the +sound of bereaved women weeping.</p> + +<p>Merril could learn nothing of the +<i>Argonaut's</i> fate. It was as though +she had dropped through a hole in +the fabric of space itself and vanished +from the ken of men. To me +he said: "I fear a new weapon." +But to the rest, he kept his peace +and let the work of the Compact +continue. There was nothing else +to be done. Our Wall Decade was +waning, and when a man or a Compact +outlives the age that gave him +or it birth, there is nothing to do +but go forward and meet the new +day dawning.</p> + +<p>So it was with the Compact. We +lived on as we had lived before: +looting and killing and draining the +wealth of space into our coffers. But +in the back of our minds a shadow +was lurking.</p> + +<p>On the next raid, the <i>Lady</i> was +lost. I saw it happen, as did Merril. +There was nothing we could do to +help her, and she died, spilling men +into the void as she ruptured in her +last agony.</p> + +<p>It was off Hyperion, whence we +had come to loot the trove built +there by the prospectors of the +Saturnian Moons. And it was a +trap.</p> + +<p>The <i>Arrow</i>, the <i>Hound</i> and the +<i>Lady</i> circled the moonlet, swinging +inward to the attack. It was the +<i>Lady</i> who was to put aground the +raiding party, and her valves hung +open while men readied the assault-boats. +Our radar screens showed +nothing of danger. There was only +the bloated giant in the sky, a +ringed monster of yellow gold +against the starry velvet of space.</p> + +<p>The <i>Lady</i> dropped her boats, the +<i>Hound</i> and the <i>Arrow</i> hovering by +to watch over their sister. And suddenly, +the jagged moonscape below +erupted—belching streaks of fire +that sought us like probing fingers. +I knew in one single instant of terror +that this was the new weapon +that had killed the <i>Argonaut</i>, for it +sliced into the <i>Lady's</i> flanks as +though the steelite hull were cheese.</p> + +<p>She bulged, glowing like an ember. +There was a sudden nimbus of +snow about her as her air escaped +and froze, and then she rolled into +her death-dance, open from bow +to stern, spilling scorched corpses +into the void.</p> + +<p>The <i>Arrow</i> and the <i>Hound</i> +drove off into space like furies leaving +the spinning body of their sister +ship behind, not waiting to watch +her crash down onto the rocky face +of Hyperion. And now the five of +the Compact were only three, and +again there was the sound of weeping +among our women.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Two months</span> after that engagement, +a single assault-boat +returned to Base. It was the lone +survivor of the <i>Lady's</i> landing +party. By some miracle, the three +men aboard had escaped the holocaust. +They had landed and been +captured and then they had fought +their way free and into the void +once more. They were half-dead +from starvation and exposure, but +they had brought word to Merril +that the wall that had so long protected +us was crumbling.</p> + +<p>Merril sought me out, his lean +hard face grim and set.</p> + +<p>"There was a Russian among the +Americans on Hyperion," he said.</p> + +<p>"A prisoner?" It was my hope +that spoke so, not my sure knowledge +of what was to come.</p> + +<p>Merril shook his head slowly. "A +technician. They developed the +beam that killed the <i>Argonaut</i> and +the <i>Lady</i>—together." His voice was +harsh and bleak. Then suddenly he +laughed. "We've touched them," +he said, "Touched them on their +tender spot—their purses." He +bowed low, filled with bitter mockery. +"Behold the diplomats, the +men who are accomplishing the +impossible!"</p> + +<p>And I knew that his words spelt +doom. Doom for the Compact and +for the Wall Decade that was our +life.</p> + +<p>Yet we did not stint. In that year +we raided Dione, Io, Ganymede, +and even the American naval Base +on Callisto. We gutted six Russian +and four American rockets filled +with treasure. And we ventured +sunward as far as the moons of +Mars.</p> + +<p>We dared battles with patrol +ships and won. We killed the destroyer +<i>Alexei Tolstoi</i> off Europa +and we shattered an American +monitor over Syrtis itself, and +watched the wreckage rain down +on Yakki, the place where the Compact +was born.</p> + +<p>And we lost the <i>Moonmaid</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The radio told us the story. +Other new weapons were being developed +against us, and here and +there American and Russian spacecraft +were seen in company for the +first time in the history of the Age +of Space. Convoys were formed +from ships of both flags to protect +spatial commerce from the imagined +"great fleet" of the Compact. +None knew that only the <i>Arrow</i> +and the <i>Starhound</i>, small ships, +weary ships, were left to face the +slowly combining might of Earth.</p> + +<p>And then at last, the pickings—growing +slimmer always—diminished +to the vanishing point. Merril +stood before us and gave the assembled +crews their option.</p> + +<p>"The treasure hunt is over," our +captain told us, "And those who +wish may withdraw now. Take +your women and the space-boats +and return to Mars. You have your +shares, and you can live in comfort +wherever you may choose. If you +wish it, go now."</p> + +<p>Some few did go, but most remained. +I watched Merril's face, +and saw one last plan maturing +there. Then he spoke again and we +all understood. One last raid ... to +take Luna and command the +world!</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Still the unity of Mankind was +not secure, and Merril, filled with +impatience for his great dream, decided +on one final stroke. He would +descend on Luna Base itself with +his fleet, and commanding all +Earth, he would drive men together—even +though it might +mean his own death. With this plan +of self-immolation in his heart, the +Peacemaker ordered his hosts and +sought the pumice soil of the mother +planet's moon....</i>"</p></div> + +<p>This is the way Quintus Bland, +historian and scholar, puts it down +for posterity. I, one of "his hosts," +would say it another way.</p> + +<p>We had gutted the Solar System +of its treasure and at last men were +uniting against us. Our "fleet" was +reduced to two small ships and a +bare handful of men and women +to fight them. Jaq Merril could see +the handwriting on the wall and he +knew that all must be gambled on +one last throw of the dice. Only +with Terra herself under our guns +could we hope to continue sucking +the juice of the worlds into our +mouths. It was all or nothing, for +we had grown used to our life and +we could no longer change it to +meet the demands of the dawning +age of Soviet-American amity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Side by side</span> the <i>Arrow</i> and +the <i>Hound</i> slanted sunward. +Mars behind us, ahead lay the +Earth-Moon system. Ten years had +passed since any of us aboard the +Compact ships had seen the home +world, and though we no longer felt +a part of it, the sight of the silvery +cloud-flecked globe touched our +hearts. Touched them as the +sapphires of Mimas or the gold of +Corfu touched them. We saw the +planet that gave us birth and we +were filled with hunger for it. To +own it, command it, make it our +own.</p> + +<p>Luna's mountains were white +and stark under our keels as Merril +led us across the curve of the +southern horizon, seeking to put +us into position to attack the UN +Moon Base in Clavius from the +direction of the Moon's hidden +face.</p> + +<p>We swung low across unnamed +mountain ranges and deep sheer +valleys steeped in shadow. The +voice of the ranger in the <i>Arrow</i> +came softly through the open intercom +into the tiny control room of +the <i>Hound</i>. A woman's voice, tense +with excitement, but disciplined +and controlled.</p> + +<p>"Range five hundred miles, four +seventy five, four fifty—"</p> + +<p>And then Merril's voice, calm +and reassuring, giving heart to all +the untried ones aboard with his +steady conning commands.</p> + +<p>"Four o'clock jet, easy, hold her. +Drivers up one half standard. +Steady goes. Meet her. Steady—"</p> + +<p>Line astern now, the two ships +flashing low across the jagged lunar +landscape, and a world in the balance—</p> + +<p>An alarm bell ringing suddenly, +and my screen showing the fleeting +outline of a Russian monitor above, +running across our stern. My own +voice, sharp with command:</p> + +<p>"Gun pointer!"</p> + +<p>"Here, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Get me that gunboat."</p> + +<p>The <i>Hound's</i> turret wound about +with agonizing slowness as the +monitor reached for the sky, clawing +for altitude and safety. And +then there came a searing blast of +fire and the fragments of the Russian +gunboat raining down lazily, +seeking their eternal rest in the +pumice of Luna's hidden face.</p> + +<p>But they had been warned at the +UN Base. The monitor had left one +dying shriek in the ether, and the +waiting garrison had heard. Merril +knew it, and so did I. We moved +forward calmly, into the jaws of +hell.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The <i>Arrow</i> attacked from ten +o'clock, low on the horizon, the +<i>Hound</i> from twelve o'clock high. +We swept in over the batteries of +pulsating projectors, raining down +our bombs. The ground shuddered +and shook with the fury of exploding +uranium and the sky was laced +with a net of fiery death. The +<i>Hound</i> shrieked her protest as I +swung her about for another attack.</p> + +<p>There was a sickening swerve and +the smell of ozone in my ship. +Somewhere, deep within her, a +woman screamed and I felt the +deck under me give as one of the +questing beams from the fortress +below cut into the hull. Airtight +doors slammed throughout the +wounded vessel, and I drove her to +the attack again, hard. The last of +the bombs clattered out of the +vents, sending mushrooms of pumice +miles into the black sky. One +battery of guns below fell silent.</p> + +<p>The <i>Arrow</i> vanished into the +night above and as suddenly reappeared, +her forward tubes spewing +red fire onto the Base below. Then +Merril pulled her up again and disappeared +among the pale stars.</p> + +<p>The <i>Hound's</i> hurt was mortal, I +could feel her dying under my +hands, and tears streaked my face. +Below decks, she was a shambles +where the cutting beam from the +ground had torn part of her heart +out. Still I fought her. There was no +retreat from this last raid, nor did +I wish any. There was a madness in +us—a blood-lust as hot and demanding +as ever our lust for gold +and treasure might have been.</p> + +<p>I lashed the face of the fortress +with the <i>Hound's</i> forward tubes, +frantically, filled with a hateful anguish. +I felt my ship losing way, +twisting and seeking rest on the +jagged ground below, and thinking +he had deserted us, I cursed Merril +in an ecstasy of blind fury.</p> + +<p>Again and again the <i>Hound</i> was +hit. I knew then that Merril's plan +had been madness, a last gesture of +defiance to the new age of unity +among men. The <i>Hound</i> fell at last, +spitting fire and gall in a futile +dance of death.</p> + +<p>She struck on a high plateau, +grinding into the pumice, rolling +with macabre abandon across the +face of the high tableland. Then at +last she was still, hissing and groaning +fitfully as she died, her buccaneering +days gone forever.</p> + +<p>I donned a suit and staggered, +half dazed, out into the lunar night. +A half-dozen men and women from +the crew had survived the impact +and they stood by the wreckage, +faces under the plastic helmets +turned skyward. They were one and +all stunned and bleeding from the +violence of the <i>Hound's</i> end, but +they looked neither back nor +around them. Their eyes were filled +with the insane glory of the drama +being enacted in the sky.</p> + +<p>The <i>Arrow</i> had returned. She +lanced down out of the night like a +spear of flame, vengeful and deadly. +Straight into the mouth of the +screaming guns she dove, death +spilling from her tubes. She bathed +the Moon Base in fire, searing the +men within—Russian and American +alike—into the brotherhood of +death.</p> + +<p>Miraculously, she pulled up out +of her encircling net of flame. We +watched in openmouthed wonder +as she reached with sobbing heart +for the sky just once again—and +then, failing, crippled and dying, +she hung above the crater's rim, +framed with deadly beams from +below, but radiant in her own right—gleaming +in the light of the sun.</p> + +<p>This was defeat. We knew it as +we stood by the tangled pile of +steelite that had been the <i>Hound</i> +and watched the <i>Arrow</i> die. But +nothing in this life that I have lived +ever told me so grandly that the +Wall Decade was ended—and our +life of buccaneering with it—as the +thing that happened next.</p> + +<p>The <i>Arrow's</i> valve opened and +a tiny figure stepped out—into +space. I did not need to be told that +Jaq Merril was coming to meet the +men he had welded together against +him.</p> + +<p>Lazily, unreally, the tiny shape +twisted over and over as it fell, until +at last it vanished amid the raw +welter of craters and ridges beyond +the razor wall of Clavius....</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">I have told</span> a true tale, +though one that will not be believed. +I have taken the Peacemaker +of the histories and painted him <i>as +he was</i>.</p> + +<p>But men are ashamed, and the +chronicles of history must be rewritten +to hide their weaknesses, +Jaq Merril has become a legend, +and the man that I knew is forgotten.</p> + +<p>Merril—pirate, fighter, grandiose +dreamer. That was my captain. Not +the colorless do-good creature of +the legend. Merril fought for lust +and greed, and these are the things +that will one day take men to the +stars. He knew this truth, of course, +and that was the substance of his +great dream. Because of it, there +are no longer walls in space, and +the men who united to fight the +Peacemaker will one day rule the +universe.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, chroniclers will write +lies about him, and Jaq Merril's +laughter will echo in some ghostly +Valhalla beyond the farthest star.</p> + +<p class="pa1">THE END</p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="138" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><big>Transcriber's Note:</big></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>If: Worlds of Science Fiction</i> January 1953. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Peacemaker, by Alfred Coppel + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PEACEMAKER *** + +***** This file should be named 31767-h.htm or 31767-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/7/6/31767/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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