his threats and denunciations. The Intelligence manwas going to kill him, certainly, but the officer wanted to make himsuffer first, to make him squirm.
When one man has defeated and completely made fools of a galacticempire, killing is too simple.
"We weren't stupid enough to try to coerce you with pure logic," theagent was saying to Aron. "We knew you must have a large amount ofpatriotism to even take such a thankless job as this Kligor post."
"There had to be something else, some stronger reason to make you rejectyour empire."
Aron watched him warily. He could tell by the malevolent gleam of theIntelligence man's eye and the sneer that he was playing a trump, thathe had a choice bit of information he thought would hurt Aron. All Aroncould do was listen.
"You came here happily married and full of patriotic zeal," the armedman said. "That way you were no prospect for us.
"We changed those conditions by a very simple act.
"We killed your wife."
The officer watched him like a hungry animal, waiting for the reaction.
The reaction was a pitying smile and the following words.
"Why don't you sit down. I know you are going to kill me, there'snothing I can do about it and, actually, I don't object. But I wouldlike to say several things first and you might as well be comfortablewhile I'm talking.
"I want to speak my piece mostly to clarify my ideas before death, butalso so that you, who will continue to live, will be able to think aboutthem in the future."
While the agent sat down with a puzzled look, Aron continued, "That iswhy, when there is combat between men, it will always be in doubt. Eventhough one side may be outnumbered, outmaneuvered and have all themilitary laws of advantage against it, that side can still win.
"You have made the one mistake, the perpetual mistake, of combat. Youforgot about the psychological factor. The force that can make a mansurrender when the odds are with him, or fight like a demon when it ishopeless.
"So long as there is war, this psychological factor will make it aneven, undecided combat despite all laws of logic.
"The psychological factor in this case, the one you overlooked, was thatI love my empire more than my wife. She was merely a companion. Youwouldn't know that, or the reasons for it, unless you knew my wholelife--and not just the events of my life, my whole psychological life."
"Of course we couldn't know that," the enemy agent said, "but we couldgo on general rules of human behavior, and those rules deny the factthat a man can love a state more than a woman."
"Good God!" Aron exclaimed. "What training do you Snooper boys get? Youdon't even know the rudiments of psychology. Intelligence men--ha! Allyou know how to do is steal papers, kill in the dark and be suspiciousof everyone all the time."
In a quieter tone, Aron went on, "It is easy to love a state like awoman, because a State is a woman.
"A love for State fulfills all emotional needs. The censorship ofyourself by your super-ego, manifested in a desire for repentance ormasoschism, this need is effected by dedication such as my lonely watchhere.
"Your destructive tendencies, half of the love-hate primary drive oflife, can be expressed by fighting and destroying an enemy. You can'tdestroy your wife because of laws, yet everyone wants to.
"The other half of the ambivalent drive, your love desire can becommitted in a platonic admiration or a patriotic zeal as you call it.
"Sure, the State is a woman. It'll kick you around, neglect you andabuse you; but when she rewards you, she does so lavishly. And this,plus the self-satisfaction of having protected her from her enemies andhelping her to survive--this is all the consumation of a love affairthat a man could want.
"I know, what about the physical love? If all your other emotional needsare so well satisfied, you can be happy without that, especially ifyou're used to it--"
The agent interrupted. Aron knew he was not comprehending what he wassaying, the man was still in a state of shock. But Aron knew the wordswere there, in the man's brain till he died. He could reason them outlater.
"All right, all right," the agent said, "I am not here to arguephilosophy. I just want to know why our plans failed."
"Since your wife's death didn't make you disillusioned enough to bereceptive to treason, weren't you at least impressed with our offers offabulous wealth and release from this prison?"
Aron rose from his chair and walked to the window. He didn't notice theagent and his menacing gun. He didn't care.
He looked out at the lifeless sunset of the world that sported the bareminimum of vegetation so it couldn't be insulted with the word "barren".
"Just another case of Intelligence men's stupidity," Aron said soquietly that the other man had to lean forward to hear. "Don't you knowanything about your own territorial administration or ours? Do you knowhow they choose their men for these stations?"
"No, that isn't our department," was the answer.
Aron turned from the window and looked at him, seeming surprised to seehim and hear him.
"Well, what sort of men would they choose? Where could they get men withthe intelligence and ability required to operate one of these stationsand cope with situations such as I've faced here? Where would they getsuch men to renounce the brilliant careers they could have amongstcivilization with such capabilities?"
"Damn it! Stop playing games. Spill what you've got to say!"
Aron looked at him coldly, searchingly, "Since you are attached to theNavy I imagine you've clocked many hours in space." When the agentnodded, Aron said, "Then, if you are lucky and show enough sense, youwill become a TA man."
Slowly, comprehension came to the Intelligence man. The gun clutched inhis hand lowered, his whole body slumped as he caught on to the factthey had overlooked. The fact that caused the failure of their plans.The fact that was his grim future.
"Fermi radiations!" Aron barked. "They rot your cells, weaken the blood,ruin the body. A man can spend about five years as a spaceman, abouttwenty months of which is spent in actual space. Twenty months and theman is doomed.
"If the man is smart he can become a space officer, then when he retiresat twenty-five, he can land a good job with the TA. He doesn't wantanything to do with civilization. That five years has made him lovespace, love isolation. So, they are willing to take these jobs, to beput out to pasture on wayward planets until they die at thirty-five." Itwas said with all the bitterness of a condemned man.
"What use would I have of your offers, even if they were true. When Ifinish, or rather, if I had finished my stay on Kligor, I'd only have afew months till I die. Your pleasant little cries of adventure, luxury,women, meant nothing.
"I just wanted to be alone to die."
Now it was the enemy agent's turn to speak bitterly. "Then you plannedit all along. You led our men on, pretending you were going to aid uswhile you were in our midst learning everything about us to destroy us.
"You finally found the method, God knows where you dug up that fiendishidea of sulphuric gas, but you planned and watched. I'll never know howyou were so lucky--and it was pure luck, but you did it. You destroyedour base."
With a smile, "Yes, I was lucky, I had a chance to end my life in afinal battle and victory. That's all a man can ask for."
Aron was still smiling when the blast of the Intelligence man's gun blewhis head off.
As he left the station, all the agent could think of was one phrase hehad heard many times jokingly; but now it became a grim accompanimentfor his footsteps. Though he didn't want to hear it, it kept whisperingthrough his mind every few seconds.
"Live fast, fight hard, die young--and have a radiation-rotted corpse."
Two hours later the United Empire fleet landed on Kligor. They came toclaim the sixty ships lying waiting--waiting--in the peaceful valleythat was still tainted with the smell of chlorine.
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For Every Man A Reason Page 5