Free McCollum - GIBRALTAR STARS by Michael McCollum Page A

the high backed executive chair behind it. There was a brief whirring of motors as the chair conformed to his frame. As it did so, he reached into a desk drawer, pulled out an old-fashioned file folder and laid it open on the desk. Even upside down, Susan recognized her résumé.
     “You have a good record here, Miss Ahrendt. One you should be proud of.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I see that you were a CSS candidate…”
    “That’s the polite way to put it, Mr. Pembroke. I prefer ‘drafted,’ ‘kidnapped,’ or ‘shanghaied.’”
    To her surprise, he laughed. “A lot of our people feel the same way. Here they were leading perfectly happy lives, minding their own business, when The Message pops up on their work screens: ‘Greetings. The government has need of your talents for the next few years.’”
    “It’s not fair,” she blurted out without intending to.
    “Fairness is overrated,” he said without missing a beat. “In fact, we all should get down on our knees and thank God that life is not fair.”
    “I beg your pardon, Mr. Pembroke?”
    “Call me ‘Lee.’ We’re on a first name basis around here.”
    “Very well… Lee. I’m Susan. You were saying…”
    “Consider this situation from the standpoint of our enemies, Susan. If the universe were fair, we would still know nothing of the Broa. We would all be living our old lives, blissfully ignorant of the Sword of Damocles dangling a few light-years above our heads. If life were equitable, then it would have been they who discovered us, rather than vice versa.
    “No, this one time the ball of fortune bounced in our direction. You do think we should do something about the Broa, don’t you?”
    “ We , meaning the human race, have to do something about them. I just don’t see why I have to be the one to do it. It’s a military problem. Let the military handle it.”
    “Would that they could. Unfortunately, our adversaries outnumber us quite heavily. In fact, the imbalance is several hundred thousand to one,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. He slipped into the manner of a college professor lecturing a particularly slow student. Susan wondered if he was aware of the mannerism.
    “Consider the tally sheet. We have but one home star system and a dozen or so colonies whose roots are barely planted. They have a functioning civilization that encompasses a million stars. Think of that! They have more stars than we have incorporated cities. Their population is at least one hundred thousand times greater than our own… and the ratio is only that low because the Broa apparently restrict their slaves’ breeding to keep their numbers manageable. We are grossly outmatched, woefully outgunned, and pitifully outresourced.”
     “Then it is hopeless,” she replied as she wondered where this conversation was headed.
    “Indeed,” he said, nodding vigorously. “That is the first insight we impress on our staff. It is indeed hopeless if we treat the pseudo-simians as a conventional military problem. If it ever comes to a head-to-head slugging match, they win and we die.”
    “I presume we have a plan to handle them.”
    “You should know. You studied it at the Academy. Our anonymity is our only salvation. So long as they are ignorant of our existence, we are safe. Unfortunately, anonymity is a passive defense and one that can be swept away by a single mistake. If we are going to end the Broan threat, we are going to have to confront them someday. Before we do, however, we need to do what we can to weaken them.”
    Seeing an opening, she decided that there was no time like the present to broach the subject that had been bothering her since receiving her travel orders. “Speaking of mistakes, Lee, I believe someone made one when they sent me here.”
    He leaned back and grinned lopsidedly as he gestured at her open resume folder. “Not according to this, Susan. You’re an artist… holosculptor, I see. I have been looking at your work. Very