Two girls came up to Chip. “Hey, I gotta go now, Mister,” he said. “These gals got a idea I oughta take a hand in the kitchen.”
“Smart girls,” Retief said. He turned as Anne-Marie came up.
“Bo Bergman and Tove are not back yet,” she said. “They stayed to ski after moonrise.”
“That moon is something,” Retief said. “Almost like day-light.”
“They will come soon, now. Shall we go out to see the moonlight on the snow?”
Outside, long black shadows fell like ink on silver. The top of the cloud layer below glared white under the immense moon.
“Our sister world, Gota,” Anne-Marie said. “Nearly as big as Svea. I would like to visit it someday, although they say it’s all stone and ice.”
“Anne-Marie,” Retief said, “how many people live on Jorgensen’s Worlds?”
“About fifteen million, most of us here on Svea. There are mining camps and ice-fisheries on Gota. No one lives on Vasa and Skone, but there are always a few hunters there.”
“Have you ever fought a war?”
Anne-Marie turned to look at Retief.
“You are afraid for us, Retief,” she said. “The Soetti will attack our worlds, and we will fight them. We have fought before. These planets were not friendly ones.”
“I thought the Soetti attack would be a surprise to you,” Retief said. “Have you made any preparation for it?”
“We have ten thousand merchant ships. When the enemy comes, we will meet them.”
Retief frowned. “Are there any guns on this planet? Any missiles?”
Anne-Marie shook her head. “Bo Bergman and Tove have a plan of deployment—”
“Deployment, hell! Against a modern assault force you need modern armament.”
“Look!” Anne-Marie touched Retief’s arm. “They’re coming now.”
Two tall grizzled men came up the slope, skis over their shoulders. Anne-Marie went forward to meet them, Retief at her side.
The two came up, embraced the girl, shook hands with Retief, put down their skis.
“Welcome to Svea,” Tove said. “Let’s find a warm corner where we can talk.”
* * * *
Retief shook his head, smiling, as a tall girl with coppery hair offered a vast slab of venison.
“I’ve caught up,” he said, “for every hungry day I ever lived.”
Bo Bergman poured Retief’s beer mug full.
“Our captains are the best in space,” he said. “Our population is concentrated in half a hundred small cities all across the planet. We know where the Soetti must strike us. We will ram their major vessels with unmanned ships. On the ground, we will hunt them down with small-arms.”
“An assembly line turning out penetration missiles would have been more to the point.”
“Yes,” Bo Bergman said. “If we had known.”
“How long have you known the Soetti were planning to hit you?”
Tove raised his eyebrows.
“Since this afternoon,” he said.
“How did you find out about it? That information is supposed in some quarters to be a well-guarded secret.”
“Secret?” Tove said.
Chip pulled at Retief’s arm.
“Mister,” he said in Retief’s ear. “Come here a minute.”
Retief looked at Anne-Marie, across at Tove and Bo Bergman. He rubbed the side of his face with his hand.
“Excuse me,” he said. He followed Chip to one side of the room.
“Listen!” Chip said. “Maybe I’m goin’ bats, but I’ll swear there’s somethin’ funny here. I’m back there mixin’ a sauce knowed only to me and the devil and I be dog if them gals don’t pass me ever dang spice I need, without me sayin’ a word. Come to put my souffle in the oven—she’s already set, right on the button at 350. An’ just now I’m settin’ lookin’ at one of ’em bendin’ over a tub o’ apples—snazzy little brunette name of Leila—derned if she don’t turn around and say—” Chip gulped. “Never mind. Point is….” His voice nearly faltered. “It’s almost like these folks was readin’ my mind!”
Retief patted Chip on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry about your sanity, Old Timer,” he said. “That’s exactly what they’re doing.”
VI
“We’ve never tried to make a secret of it,” Tove said. “But we haven’t advertised it, either.”
“It really isn’t much,” Bo Bergman said. “Not a mutant ability, our scholars say. Rather, it’s a skill we’ve stumbled on, a closer empathy. We are few, and far from the old home world. We’ve had to learn to break down the walls we had built around our minds.”
“Can you read the Soetti?” Retief asked.
Tove shook his head. “They’re very different from us. It’s painful to touch their minds. We can only sense the sub-vocalized thoughts of a human mind.”
“We’ve seen very few of the Soetti,” Bo Bergman said. “Their ships have landed and taken on stores. They say little to us, but we’ve felt their contempt. They envy us our worlds. They come from a cold land.”
“Anne-Marie says you have a plan of defense,” Retief said. “A sort of suicide squadron idea, followed by guerrilla warfare.”
“It’s the best we can devise, Retief. If there aren’t too many of them, it might work.”
Retief shook his head. “It might delay matters—but not much.”
“Perhaps. But our remote control equipment is excellent. And we have plenty of ships, albeit unarmed. And our people know how to live on the slopes—and how to shoot.”
“There are too many of them, Tove,” Retief said. “They breed like flies and, according to some sources, they mature in a matter of months. They’ve been feeling their way into the sector for years now. Set up outposts on a thousand or so minor planets—cold ones, the kind they like. They want your worlds because they need living space.”
“At least, your warning makes it possible for us to muster some show of force, Retief,” Bo Bergman said. “That is better than death by ambush.”
“Retief must not be trapped here,” Anne-Marie said. “His small boat is useless now. He must have a ship.”
“Of course,” Tove said. “And—”
“My mission here—” Retief said.
“Retief,” a voice called. “A message for you. The operator has phoned up a gram.”
Retief unfolded the slip of paper. It was short, in verbal code, and signed by Magnan.
“You are recalled herewith,” he read. “Assignment canceled. Agreement concluded with Soetti relinquishing all claims so-called Jorgensen system. Utmost importance that under no repeat no circumstances classified intelligence regarding Soetti be divulged to locals. Advise you depart instanter. Soetti occupation imminent.”
Retief looked thoughtfully at the scrap of paper, then crumpled it and dropped it on the floor. He turned to Bo Bergman, took a tiny reel of tape from his pocket.
“This