A Matter of Importance

appeared at widely different spots. A second flash--giant andterrible nearby--a pin point of light among the stars. Anotherostensible human ship vanished in atomic flame--but still anotherappeared magically from nowhere. A third and then a fourth flash. Threemore within successive seconds.

  Squad ships continued to appear as if by necromancy, and space near theplanet was streaked by flarings of white vapor as eighty-gee rocketshurled themselves to destruction against the invading objects. As eachbomb went off, its light was brighter than the sun. But each was a mereflicker in enormousness. They flashed, and flashed--Each was a bombturning forty kilograms of matter into pure, raw, raging destruction.Each was devastation sufficient to destroy the greatest city the galaxyever knew.

  But in that appalling emptiness they were mere scintillations. In thebackground of a solar system's vastness they made all the doings of menand Huks alike seem ludicrous.

  For a long time--perhaps five minutes, perhaps ten--the flashings whichwere the most terrible of all weapons continued. Each flash destroyedsomething which, in scale, was less than a dust mote. But more motesappeared, and more and more and more.

  And presently the flashes grew infrequent. The threads of vapor whichled to each grew longer. In a little while they came from halfway aroundthe planet. Then squad ships appeared even there. And immediately pinpoints of intolerable brilliance destroyed them--yet never as fast asthey appeared.

  Finally there came ten seconds in which no atomic flame ravened inemptiness. One more glitter. Fifteen seconds. Twenty. Thirty secondswithout a flashing of atomic explosive--

  The surviving objects which appeared to be squad ships hung in space.They moved without plan. They swam through space without destination.Presently the most unobservant of watches must have perceived that theirmovement was random. That they were not driven. That they had nopurpose. That they were not squad ships but targets--and not even robottargets--set out for the missile rockets of the Huk planet to expendthemselves on.

  The missile rockets had expended themselves.

  So Sergeant Madden opened communication with the Huks.

  * * * * *

  "These Huks," observed Sergeant Madden as the squad ship descended tothe Huk planet's surface, "they must've had a share in the scrappingeighty years ago. They've got everything the old-time Huks had. They'veeven got recordings of human talk from civilian human prisoners of yearsgone by. And they kept somebody able to talk it--for when they foughtwith us!"

  Patrolman Willis did not answer. He had a strange expression on hisface. At the moment they were already within the Huk home-planet'satmosphere. From time to time a heavily accented voice gave curtinstructions. It was a Huk voice, telling Patrolman Willis how to guidethe squad ship to ground where--under truce--Sergeant Madden might holdconference with Huk authorities.

  "_Hold the course_," said the voice. "_That is r-right. Do as you are._"

  The horizon had ceased to be curved minutes ago. Now the ground rosegradually. The ground was green. Large green growths clustered off toone side of the flat area where the ship was to alight. They were theequivalent of trees on this planet. Undoubtedly there were equivalentsof grass and shrubs, and seed-bearing and root-propagating vegetation,and Huks would make use of some seeds and roots for food. Because inorder to have a civilization one has to have a larger food-supply thancan be provided by even the thriftiest of grazing animals. But the Huksor their ancestors would need to have been flesh-eaters also, for brainsto be useful in hunting and therefore for mental activity to berecognized as useful. A vegetarian community can maintain acivilization, but it has to start off on meat.

  A clump of ground-cars waited for the squad ship's landing. The shiptouched, delicately. Sergeant Madden rumbled and got out of his chair.Patrolman Willis looked at him uneasily.

  "Huh!" said Sergeant Madden. "Of course you can come. You want them tothink we're bluffing? No. Nothing to fight with. The Huks think ourfleet's set to do the fighting."

  He undogged the exit door and went out through the small vestibule whichwas also the ship's air lock. Patrolman Willis joined him out-of-doors.The air was fresh. The sky was blue. Clouds floated in the sky, andgrowing things gave off a not-unpleasant odor, and a breeze blewuncertainly. But such things happen on appropriate planets in mostsol-type solar systems.

  Huks came toward them. Stiffly. Defiantly. The most conspicuousdifference between Huks and humans was of degree. Huks grew hair allover their heads, instead of only parts of it. But they wore garments,and some of the garments were identical and impressive, so they could beguessed to be uniforms.

  "How-do," said the voice that had guided the ship down. "We are r-readyto listen to your message."

  Sergeant Madden said heavily:

  "We humans believe you Huks have got a good fleet. We believe you've gota good army. We know you've got good rockets and a fighting force that'sworth a lot to us. We want to make a treaty for you to take over anddefend as much territory as you're able to, against some charactersheading this way from the Coalsack region."

  Silence. The interpreter translated, and the Huks muttered astonishedlyamong themselves. The interpreter received instructions.

  "Do you mean others of our r-race?" he demanded haughtily. "Members ofour own r-race who r-return to r-recover their home worlds from humans?"

  "Hell, no!" said Sergeant Madden dourly. "If you can get in contact withthem and bring them back, they can have their former planets back andmore besides--if they'll defend 'em. We're stretched thin. We didn'tcome here to fight your fleet. We came to ask it to join us."

  More mutterings. The interpreter faced about.

  "This surpr-rises us," he said darkly. "We know of no danger in thedirection you speak of. Per-rhaps we would wish to make fr-riends withthat danger instead of you!"

  Sergeant Madden snorted.

  "You're welcome!" Then he said sardonically: "If you're able to reach usafter you try, the offer stands. Join us, and you'll give your owncommands and make your own decisions. We'll co-operate with you. But youwon't make friends with the characters I'm talking about! Not hardly!"

  More hurried discussions still. The interpreter, defiantly: "And if wer-refuse to join you?"

  Sergeant Madden shrugged.

  "Nothing. You'll fight on your own, anyhow. So will we. If we joined upwe could both fight better. I came to try to arrange so we'd both bestronger. We need you. You need us."

  * * * * *

  There was a pause. Patrolman Willis swallowed. At five-million-mileintervals, in a circle fifty million miles across with the Huk world asits center, objects floated in space. Patrolman Willis knew about them,because he and Sergeant Madden had put them there immediately after themissile rockets ceased to explode. He knew what they were, and his spinecrawled at the thought of what would happen if the Huks found out. Butthe distant objects were at the limit of certain range for detectiondevices. The planet's instruments could just barely pick them up. Theysubtended so small a fraction of a thousandth of a second of arc that noinformation could be had about them.

  But they acted like a monstrous space fleet, ready to pour downwar-headed missiles in such numbers as to smother the planet in atomicflame. Patrolman Willis could not imagine admitting that such a supposedfleet needed another fleet to help it. A military man, bluffing asSergeant Madden bluffed, would not have dared offer any terms lessonerous than abject surrender. But Sergeant Madden was a cop. It was nothis purpose to make anybody surrender. His job was, ultimately, to makethem behave.

  The Huks conferred. The conference was lengthy. The interpreter turnedto Sergeant Madden and spoke with vast dignity and caginess:

  "When do you r-require an answer?"

  "We don't," grunted Sergeant Madden. "When you make up your minds, senda ship to Varenga III. We'll give you the information we've got. That'swhether you fight with us or independent. You'll fight, once you meetthese characters! We don't worry about that! Just ... we can do bettertoget
her." Then he said: "Have you got the co-ordinates for Varenga? Idon't know what you call it in your language."

  "We have them," said the interpreter, still suspiciously.

  "Right!" said Sergeant Madden. "That's all. We came here to tell youthis. Let us know when you make up your minds. Now we'll go back."

  He turned as if to trudge back to the squad ship. And this, of course,was the moment when the difference between a military and a cop mind wasgreatest. A military man, with the defenses of the planet smashed--orexhausted--and an apparent overwhelming force behind him, would havetried to get the _Cerberus_ and its company turned over to him either byimplied or explicit threats. Sergeant Madden did not mention them. Buthe had made