In the Balance Read online

  BOOKS BY HARRY TURTLEDOVE

  The Guns of the South

  THE WORLDWAR SAGA

  Worldwar: In the Balance

  Worldwar: Tilting the Balance

  Worldwar: Upsetting the Balance

  Worldwar: Striking the Balance

  COLONIZATION

  Colonization: Second Contact

  Colonization: Down to Earth

  Colonization: Aftershocks

  THE VIDESSOS CYCLE

  The Misplaced Legion

  An Emperor for the Legion

  The Legion of Videssos

  Swords of the Legion

  THE TALE OF KRISPOS

  Krispos Rising

  Krispos of Videssos

  Krispos the Emperor

  THE TIME OF TROUBLES SERIES

  The Stolen Throne

  Hammer and Anvil

  The Thousand Cities Videssos Besieged

  Noninterference

  Kaleidoscope

  A World of Difference

  Earthgrip

  Departures

  How Few Remain

  THE GREAT WAR

  The Great War: American Front

  The Great War: Walk in Hell

  The Great War: Breakthroughs

  American Empire: Blood and Iron

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Other Books By This Author

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Copyright

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  (Characters with names in CAPS are historical, others fictional)

  HUMANS

  Aloysius captive in Fiat, Indiana

  ANIELEWICZ, MORDECHAI guerrilla leader in the Warsaw ghetto

  Arenswald, Michael engineer Heavy Artillery Battalion Dora

  Bagnall, George flight engineer in RAF bomber crew

  Bauer, Klaus hull gunner in Heinrich Jäger’s tank

  Becker, Karl engineer Heavy Artillery Battalion Dora

  Bell, Douglas bomb-aimer in RAF bomber crew

  BOR-KOMOROWSKI, TADEUSZ general, Polish Home Army

  Brodsky, Nathan Jewish laborer at Warsaw airport

  Burkett, Dr. biology professor at University of Chicago.

  Chase, Otto cement plant worker at Dixon, Illinois

  CHURCHILL, WINSTON prime minister of Great Britain

  Collins, Colonel U.S. Army officer

  COMPTON, ARTHUR supervisor, University of Chicago Metallurgical Laboratory

  Daniels, Pete “Mutt” manager, Decatur Commodores (I-I-I League)

  Daphne barmaid at the White Horse Inn, Dover, England

  David child of Jewish fighter, Warsaw

  Doi, Colonel Japanese interrogator of Teerts

  Donlan, Kevin U.S. Army private in Naperville, Illinois

  Embry, Ken pilot of RAF bomber crew

  FERMI, ENRICO nuclear physicist at the University of Chicago Metallurgical Laboratory

  Finkelstein, Sam doctor

  Fiore, Bobby second baseman, Decatur Commodores (I-I-I League)

  Fuchs, Stefan loader in Heinrich Jäger’s tank

  Goldfarb, David RAF radarman in Dover England

  Gorbunova, Ludmila Red Air Force pilot

  Gordon captive in Fiat, Indiana

  GROVES, LESLIE U.S. Army colonel

  HITLER, ADOLF German Führer

  Höcker, Maximilian lieutenant colonel, German Army, Paris

  HULL, CORDELL U.S. secretary of state

  Jacobi, Nathan BBC newsreader

  Jäger, Heinrich major Sixteenth Panzer Division

  Jones, Jerome RAF radarman in Dover England

  Karpov, Feofan Red Air Force colonel

  Kasherina, Yevdokia Red Air Force pilot

  Kobayashi, Lieutenant-Colonel Japanese interrogator of Teerts

  Kraniinov, Viktor Red Army lieutenant colonel in Moscow

  Lane, Edward “Ted” radioman in RI4F bomber crew

  Larssen, Barbara graduate student in medieval literature; Jens’ wife

  Larssen, Jens nuclear physicist, University of Chicago Metallurgical Laboratory

  Leah Jewish fighter in Warsaw

  Lejb Jew in Hrubieszów, Poland

  Lidov, Boris NKVD lieutenant colonel, Moscow

  Liu Han Chinese peasant woman

  Marie captive in Fiat, Indiana

  MARSHALL, GEORGE U.S. Army Chief of Staff

  Max Jew who survived Babi Yar; Soviet partisan

  MOLOTOV, VYACHESLAV foreign commissar of the USSR

  Okamoto, Major Japanese interpreter and interrogator of Teerts

  Old sun tailor in China

  PATTON, GEORGE U.S. Army major general

  Pavlyuchenko, Kliment kolkhoz (collective farm) headman in the Ukraine

  Popova, Yelena Red Air Force major

  RIBBENTROP, JOACHIM VON German foreign minister

  Riecke, Ernst captain, Sixteenth Panzer Division

  Risberg, Buck soldier in Aurora, illinois

  Rodney captive in Fiat, Indiana

  Russie, Moishe ex-medical student in the Warsaw ghetto

  Russie, Reuven Moishe Russie’s son

  Russie, Rivka Moishe Russie’s wife

  Sal captive in Fiat, Indiana

  Sanders, Charlie black man feeding soldiers in Naperville, Illinois

  Schmidt, Dieter driver of Heinrich Jäger’s tank

  Schneider, Sergeant U.S. Army recruiting sergeant

  Schultz, Georg gunner of Heinrich Jäger’s tank

  Sebring, Gerald nuclear physicist, University of Chicago Metallurgical Laboratory

  Simpkin, Joe rear gunner in RAF bomber crew

  SKORZENY, OTTO SS Hauptstürmfuhrer

  Spiegel, Michael German Army lieutenant colonel in Satu Mare, Romania

  Stansfield, Roger Royal Navy commander; CO of HMS Seanymph

  Sullivan, Joe pitcher Decatur Commodores (I-I-I League)

  Sylvia barmaid at the White Horse Inn, Dover England

  SZILARD, LEO nuclear physicist, University of Chicago Metallurgical Laboratory

  THOMSEN, HANS German ambassador to the United States

  Thomsen, Pete reporter on the Rockford Courier-Journal

  TOGO, SHIGENORI Japanese foreign minister

  Tompkins, Charlie mechanic in Strasburg, Ohio

  Virgil sailor on the merchant ship Caledonia

  Wagner, Eddie U.S. Army private near Delphi, Indiana

  Whyte, Alf navigator in RAF bomber crew

  Yeager, Sam outfielder Decatur Commodores (I-I-I League)

  Yi Min Chinese apothecary

  Yossel Jewish fighter in Poland

  ZINN, WALT nuclear physicist, University of Chicago Metallurgical Laboratory

  THE RACE

  Atvar fleetlord, invasion fleet

  Breltan radar technician, 67th Emperor Sohrheb

  Drefsab intelligence operator on Atvar’s staff

  Erewlo subleader, communications section

  Feneress shiplord—member of Straha’s faction

  Gefron killercraft pilot, flight leader

  Gnik outpost commander at Fiat, Indiana

  Hassov shiplord—member of Kirel’s faction

  Horrep shiplord—member of Straha’s faction

  Kirel shiplord, 127th E
mperor Hetto

  Krefak missile battery officer

  Krentel landcruiser commander

  Mozzten shiplord based in U.S.A.

  Relek shiplord 16th Emperor Osjess

  Relhost assault force commander in attack on Chicago

  Ristin soldier captured by U.S. Army

  Rolvar killercraft pilot

  Shonar shiplord—member of Straha’s faction

  Ssofeg prison-camp official in China

  Straha shiplord 206th Emperor Yower

  Svallah artillery supervisor in the attack on Chicago

  Teerts killercraft pilot, flight leader

  Telerep landcruiser gunner

  Tessrek senior psychologist

  Ullhass soldier captured by U.S. Army

  Ussmak landcruiser driver

  Votal landcruiser commander

  Xarol killercraft pilot

  Zingiber Northern Flank Commander in the attack on Chicago

  Zolraag governor of Warsaw

  1

  Fleetlord Atvar strode briskly into the command station of the invasion fleet bannership 127th Emperor Hetto. Officers stiffened in their seats as he came in. But for the way his eye turrets swiveled in their sockets, one to the left, the other to the right, he ignored them. Yet had any been so foolish as to omit the proper respect, he would have noticed—and remembered.

  Shiplord Kirel, his body paint less elaborate only than Atvar’s, joined him at the projector. As Atvar did every morning, he said, “Let us examine the target.” Kirel served the fleetlord by touching the control with his own index claw. A blue and gray and white sphere sprang into being, a perfect representation of a life-bearing world floating in space.

  All the officers turned both eyes toward the hologram. Atvar, as was his custom, walked around the projector to view it from all sides: Kirel followed him. When they were back where they had begun, Atvar ran out a bifurcated tongue. “Cold-looking place,” the fleetlord said, as he usually did. “Cold and wet.”

  “Yet it will serve the Race and the Emperor,” Kirel replied. When he spoke those words, the rest of the officers returned to their assigned tasks; the morning ritual was over. Kirel went on, “Pity such a hot white star as Tosev has hatched so chilly an egg.”

  “Pity indeed,” Atvar agreed. That chilly world revolved around a star more than twice as bright as the sun under which he’d been raised. Unfortunately, it did so toward the outer edge of the biosphere. Not only did Tosev 3 have too much free water, it even had frozen water on the ground here and there. In the Empire’s three current worlds, frozen water was rare outside the laboratory.

  Kirel said, “Even if Tosev 3 is colder on average than what we’re used to, Fleetlord, we won’t have any real trouble living there, and parts will be very pleasant.” He opened his jaws slightly to display small, sharp, even teeth. “And the natives should give us no difficulty.”

  “By the Emperor, that’s true.” Though his sovereign was light-years away, Atvar automatically cast both eyes down to the floor for a moment. So did Kirel. Then Atvar opened his jaws, too, sharing the shiplord’s amusement. “Show me the picture sequence from the probe once more.”

  “It shall be done.” Kirel poked delicately at the projector controls. Tosev 3 vanished, to be replaced by a typical inhabitant: a biped with a red-brown skin, rather taller than a typical male of the Race. The biped wore a strip of cloth round its midsection and carried a bow and several stone-tipped arrows. Black fur sprouted from the top of its head

  The biped vanished. Another took its place, this one swaddled from head to foot in robes of dirty grayish tan. A curved iron sword hung from a leather belt at its waist. Beside it stood a brown-furred riding animal with a long neck and a hump on its back.

  Atvar pointed to the furry animal, then to the biped’s robes. “Even the native creatures have to protect themselves from Tosev 3’s atrocious climate.” He ran a hand down the smooth, glistening scales of his arm.

  More bipeds appeared in holographic projection, some with black skins, some golden brown, some a reddish color so light it was almost pink. As the sequence moved on, Kirel opened his jaws in amusement once more. He pointed to the projector. “Behold—now!—the fearsome warrior of Tosev 3.”

  “Hold that image. Let everyone, look closely at it,” Atvar commanded.

  “It shall be done.” Kirel stopped the flow of images. Every officer in the command station swiveled one eye toward the image, though most kept the other on the tasks before them.

  Atvar laughed silently as he studied the Tosevite fighter. This native belonged to the pinkish race, though only one hand and his face were visible to testify to that. Protective gear covered the rest of him almost as comprehensively as had the earlier biped’s robes. A pointed iron helmet with several dents sat on top of his head. He wore a suit of rather rusty mail that reached almost to his knees, and heavy leather boots below them. A flimsy coat of bluish stuff helped keep the sun off the mail.

  The animal the biped rode, a somewhat more graceful relative of the humped creature, looked bored with the whole business. An iron-headed spear projected upward from the biped’s seat. His other armament included a straight sword, a knife, and a shield with a cross painted on it.

  “How well do you think his kind is likely to stand up to bullets, armored fighting vehicles, aircraft?” Atvar asked rhetorically. The officers all laughed, looking forward to an easy conquest, to adding a fourth planet and solar system to the dominions of the Emperor.

  Not to be outdone in enthusiasm by his commander, Kirel added, “These are recent images, too: they date back only about sixteen hundred years.” He paused to poke at a calculator. “That would be about eight hundred of Tosev 3’s revolutions. And how much, my fellow warriors, how much can a world change in a mere eight hundred revolutions?”

  The officers laughed again, more widely this time. Atvar laughed with them. The history of the Race was more than a hundred thousand years deep; the Ssumaz dynasty had held the throne for almost half that time, ever since techniques for ensuring male heirs were worked out. Under the Ssumaz Emperors, the Race took Rabotev 2 twenty-eight thousand years ago, and seized Halless 1 eighteen thousand years after that. Now it was Tosev 3’s turn. The pace of conquest was quickening, Atvar thought.

  “Carry on, servants of the Emperor,” the fleetlord said. The officers stiffened once more as he left the command station.

  He was back in his suite, busy with the infinite minutiae that accompanied command, when his door buzzer squawked. He looked up from the computer screen with a start. No one was scheduled to interrupt him at this time, and the Race did not lightly break routine. Emergency in space was improbable in the extreme, but who would dare disturb him for anything less?

  “Enter,” he growled.

  The junior officer who came into the suite looked nervous; his tail stump twitched and his eyes swiveled quickly, now this way, now that, as if he were scanning the room for danger. “Exalted Fleetlord, kinsmale of the Emperor, as you know, we draw very near the Tosev system,” he said, his voice hardly louder than a whisper.

  “I had better know that,” Atvar said with heavy sarcasm.

  “Y-yes, Exalted Fleetlord.” The junior officer, almost on the point of bolting, visibly gathered himself before continuing: “Exalted Fleetlord, I am Subleader Erewlo, in the communications section. For the past few ship’s days, I have detected unusual radio transmissions coming from that system. These appear to be artificial in nature, and, and”—now he had to force himself to go on and face Atvar’s certain wrath—“from tiny doppler shifts in the signal frequency, appear to be emanating from Tosev 3.”

  In fact, the fleetlord was too startled to be furious. “That is ridiculous,” he said. “How dare you presume to tell me that the animal-riding savages our probes photographed have moved in the historic swivel of an eye turret up to electronics when we required tens of millennia for the same advance?”

  “Exalted Fleetlord, I presume nothing,” Er
ewlo quavered. “I merely report to you anomalous data which may be of import to our mission and therefore to the Race.”

  “Get out,” Atvar said, his voice flat and deadly dangerous. Erewlo fled.

  The fleetlord glared after him. The report was ridiculous, on the face of it. The Race changed but slowly, in tiny, sensible increments. Though both the Rabotevs and the Hallessi were conquered before they developed radio, they had had comparably long, comparably leisurely developments. Surely that was the norm among intelligent races.

  Atvar spoke to his computer. The data the subleader had mentioned came up on his screen. He studied them, asked the machine for their implications. The implications were as Erewlo had said: with a probability that approached one, those were artificial radio signals coming from Tosev 3.

  The fleetlord snarled a command the computer was not anatomically equipped to obey. If the natives of Tosev 3 had somehow stumbled across radio, what else did they know?

  Just as the hologram of Tosev 3 had looked like a world floating in space, so the world itself, seen through an armorglass window, resembled nothing so much as a holographic image. But to get round to its other side now, Atvar would have to wait for the 127th Emperor Hetto to finish half an orbit.

  The fleetlord glared down at the planet below. He had been glaring at it ever since the fleet arrived, one of his own years before. No one in all the vast history of the Race had ever been handed such a poisonous dilemma. The assembled shiplords stood waiting for Atvar to give them their orders. His the responsibility, his the rewards—and the risks.

  “The natives of Tosev 3 are more technologically advanced than we believed they would be when we undertook this expedition,” he said, seeing if gross understatement would pry a reaction from them.

  As one, they dipped their heads slightly in assent. Atvar tightened his jaws—would that he might bite down on his officers’ necks. They were going to give him no help at all. His the responsibility. He could not even ask the Emperor for instructions. A message Home would take twenty-four Home years to arrive, the reply another twenty-four. The invasion force could go back into cold sleep and wait—but who could say what the Tosevites would have invented by then?

  Atvar said, “The Tosevites appear at the moment to be fighting several wars among themselves. History tells us their disunity will work to our advantage.” Ancient history, he thought; the Empire had had a single rule so long that no one had any practice playing on the politics of disunion. But the manuals said such a thing was possible, and the manuals generally knew what they were talking about.