The Star Fox

“11. Nor is there any prohibition on the unilateral authorization by a member state of the Federation of a private military expedition which so outfits itself. We grant that privateers were formerly required to be citizens of the country whose flag they flew, and that this might conflict with the national disarmament law. We grant also that eventually the issuance of letters of marque and reprisal was banned, by the Declaration of Paris in 1856. But while such treaties remain binding on their signatories, including France, they are not binding on the Federation as a whole, which is not a signatory and indeed has members such as the United States of America which never were signatories. And we have seen that the Federation is a sovereign state, possessing all rights and responsibilities not explicitly waived.

“12. Therefore the Federation has the unrestricted right to issue letters of marque and reprisal.

“13. Therefore, and in view of paragraphs 7, 8, and 9, France has the right and the duty to issue letters of marque and reprisal in the name of the Federation.

“France has done so.”

The 3V shrieked—more faintly each minute, as Fox II accelerated outward and outward. When she lost the Mars beam and reception ended, the racket in the Capitol had not yet subsided.

Penoyer said, “Whew! What’s next?”

“An interminable debate,” Heim said. “Coquelin will fight for every comma. Meanwhile nothing can be done about jellyfishing to Alerion. Hopefully, the people with guts will see they aren’t beaten at the outset, will rally round and—I don’t know.”

“But us?”

“Maybe we can escape before someone realizes who that French privateer must be. Not that they can legally stop us without an Admiralty warrant; and you know how long that takes to get. But a nuclear shell is kind of final, and whoever fires it will have powerful friends in court.”

Vadász strummed his guitar and began to sing softly: “Morgenrot, Morgenrot—” Heim wondered what that was, until he remembered the old, old Austrian cavalry song:

Morning red, morning red, Wilt thou shine upon me dead? Soon the trumpets will be blowing, Then must I to death be going, I and many trusty friends!—

But it wasn’t really sad, it had been chorused by troops of young merry men as they galloped with sunlight wild on banners and lances.

He laughed aloud. “Hey! An idea. There were exactly thirteen points in Coquelin’s speech. I wonder if he did that on purpose?”

None answered, except the plangent strings. He gave himself to thoughts … Lisa, Connie, Madelon, Jocelyn … Earth and Moon lay far behind.

“PCA-SN Neptune to cruiser Fox II. Come in, Fox II.”

The voice rocketed them from their seats. “Judas,” Penoyer whispered, “that’s a blastship.”

Heim checked the radar tapes. “The one paralleling us. She’s gone to an interception course. And if they use English on us, when we’ve got a French registry, they know—” He bit his lip and settled before the com relay console. “Fox II to Neptune,” he said. “We read you. The master speaking. What’s on your mind? Over.”

“This is Rear Admiral Ching-Kuo, commanding Neptune. Cease acceleration and stand by to be boarded. Over.”

Sickness fountained in Heim. “What do you mean?” he blustered. “We have clearance. Over.”

“You are suspected of illegal intentions. You are ordered to return to Earth orbit. Over.”

“Have you a warrant? Over.”

“I will show you my authorization when I board, Captain. Over.”

“That’ll be too late, if you don’t have any. Establish video contact and show me now. Otherwise I am not bound to obey. Over.”

“Captain,” said Ching-Kuo, “I have my orders. If you do not follow instructions, I shall be forced to fire on you. Over.”

Heim’s gaze flew among the stars. No, no, no, not this! Another hour and we’d have been away! One hour!

A flaring went through him. “You win, Admiral,” he said; it sounded like a stranger talking. “Under protest, I yield. Give us time to compute a velocity-matching vector and we’ll meet you. Over and out.”

He slammed down the switch and opened the intercom to the engine room. “Captain to chief engineer,” he said. “Are you there?”

“Indeed,” Uthg-a-K’thaq belched. “All is satiswactory.”

“No. Somebody’s uncorked the bottle on hell. There’s a blastship which says if we don’t stop and surrender, he’ll shoot. Prepare for Mach drive.”

“Captain!” Penoyer yelled. “This deep in the sun’s field?”

“If the sync is perfect, we can do it,” Heim said. “If not … we’re dead, no more. Uthg-a-K’thaq, do you believe we can?”

“Gwurru! What a thing to ask!”

“You overhauled those engines yourself,” Heim said. “I trust you.”

Vadász’s guitar shouted at his back.