“What’s our velocity?”
“Which velocity? And relative to what?”
Delman sat down and waved his hands uncertainly. “You mean it’s that bad?” He looked at the meters, then shook his head. “See what you mean. I was thinking of absolute velocity, relative to galactic null.”
“Lot of difference that would make right now,” Barskor glanced at the bank of meters before him, “even if we could determine it.” He looked anxiously at the viewsphere.
There were little flecks of light but most of the sphere was a hazy darkness, shot through with tantalizingly vague suggestions of light. A jagged line of red ran through the haze, terminating at the far side of the sphere. Roughly paralleling this was a blue line which led to a small oval near sphere center. Barskor glanced back at the meters.
“Right at the moment, we’re almost on course line. I’m holding as near six tenths of terminal velocity as I can. But right now, that’s a wild variable.” He smiled sourly.
“Oh, we’re doing good. Almost landed us in a closed field a while back, and I’m working my way through the neutral path between a couple more right now.” He glanced at Delman again, noting that the man had his hands on the controls.
“Comparatively neutral, that is.” He made a fine adjustment.
“Get a good grip on those knobs,” he advised. “You’re going to be twisting them off their shafts. Fields drift in every direction you can name, and a few no one ever thought of before.” He arched his back and rubbed a shoulder.
“During this watch, I’ve done everything from a couple of parsecs to a couple thousand kilometers per.” He leaned over, to tap the large meter in the center of the array before Delman.
“And keep your eye on this one. It jumps all over the scale. And when it jumps, the ship tries a Dutch roll. If you’re not careful, she’ll jibe on you. Besides being hard on nerves and ankles and things, that could cause us a slight delay of a few thousand cycles while one of the big brains tries to work out a method of getting a ship out of irons in a closed field.” He got out of his chair.
“And we’d be pretty hungry by the time they got us loose.”
Meinora pulled himself wearily from his cabin and started along the corridor toward the control room. Underfoot, the deck moved unpredictably, then steadied for a moment. Suddenly, for a breathless instant, he was weightless. Then his feet seemed about to drive themselves through the deck. He shook his head, swallowing convulsively.
He remembered an occasion when he had been on a primitive planet. There had been a sea-borne ship and he had felt like this after a few days at sea. He remembered that many of his fellow passengers had been violently ill—just as were some of his team members now.
A giant hand seemed to twist at his stomach and his mouth opened, seemingly of its own volition. Sternly, he forced himself into control, then raised a hand and brushed away the cold drops of moisture from his face. Forcing himself to ignore the pangs, he pulled himself toward the door.
Barskor was turning away from the console. He looked at Meinora through bloodshot eyes, then motioned.
“Chief, did that bunch of jokers they brought in from Huilon actually come through this?”
“They did.”
“And they used that antique rattletrap we found?”
“That was their ship.”
Barskor shook his head and tapped a forefinger against his other hand.
“There are two possible ways to describe people like that. Either they’re super spacemen, who use pliosteel cables for nerves and force computers for brains, or they’re a pudding headed bunch of idiots that don’t know a gravity field from a light breeze on a mill pond. And they came through on dumb luck.” He paused.
“Or they might be an impossible combination of both.”
Delman turned for an instant.
“You call it,” he said. “They planned to use mental compulsion to conquer the galaxy.” He returned to the controls.
“Don’t underrate them too much,” Meinora cautioned. “They’re primitive in some respects, and they didn’t bother to check the odds or make much of a reconnaissance before they committed themselves to attack. But the fact remains that they did manage to punch their way through this cluster of dark stars. And they managed to chart their course, too, so they had a chance of getting back.” He tilted his head.
“And another thing. They might have managed to take over Huilon, a planet far superior to their own in technological and social development, too. Don’t forget that, either.” Barskor grinned tiredly. “Brash is the word for Jorik?”
“You might put it that way.” Meinora laughed. “And persistent, too. They must have lost a lot of ships in here before that one got through.” He looked at the viewsphere.
“You know,” he added, “they only had two men aboard that thing with any real knowledge of space flight?”
Barskor looked at him curiously. “Did I hear you right?”
“You did.” Meinora crossed the room and stood, looking at the main computer. “All knowledge of flight, gravities, and even mechanics is a closely guarded secret in their society. Only members of the ruling family on Jorik are allowed to know a thing about science or technology.” He pointed at the computer panel.
“Of course, they had servants to operate some of their stuff, like this, for example. But all those servants did was to pull switches and turn knobs as they were ordered by the two men who knew what was going on.” He smiled. “And one of those two didn’t know what was driving the ship. He just knew something about running it.”
As Barskor started to answer, Delman wheeled around. “Hey,” he cried. “Look. I’ve got clear space.” Meinora and Barskor looked into the viewsphere. The dark haze had given way to the normal, velvety blackness of space, relieved by three clear points of light.
“Good.” Meinora nodded. “Those are the three stars of Jorik. Project your guide line in the sphere and crank up your drive. We want the one to the left and it should be just a short run to system field.” He looked over at the course recorder.
“Well, at least we seem to have passed the curtain.”
Barskor exhaled loudly. “It’s about time, too,” he said. “I was beginning to think I was going to come up for retirement while we were still in there.” Suddenly, he turned.
“We’ve got to get out of here, too,” he complained. “Back through that mess again.”
Meinora nodded. “And maybe in again. This might turn out to be a long job and we might have to have more teams. And we can’t just sit still in here and yell for help, you know. Communications wouldn’t get through so well. This time, we’ll have to go out and get our own reinforcements.” He glanced around the room.
“Be a lot better,” he added, “if we can handle this whole operation at one time. Then all we’ll have to do is bring in inspection crews once in a while.”
Meinora relaxed and placed one hip on the table as the team members slowly fried from the lounge. He thought over his briefing talk, wondering just how it had actually sounded and how it had been received. Finally, he shook his head and chuckled softly.
“Probably sounded like a full-grown jerk,” he told himself.
As the last man disappeared through the door, Meinora eased himself off the table and walked out of the lounge, to pause in the hall.
“Have to supervise the debarkation,” he thought. “But that’ll come later.” He went through the corridors to the control room.
Barskor turned as he entered.
“They all briefed, sir?”
Meinora nodded. “I hope so.” He smiled. “Suppose I talked too much, but I didn’t want any slip-ups.”
“Didn’t seem to me there was too much, sir.” Barskor shook his head. “Listened in on parts of it and it sounded good. Just as well to remind them of some of those routine items. Even the most experienced agents will forget something now and then. Are you going to stay aboard and co-ordinate?”
“I don’t thi
nk so.” Meinora shook his head. “Not during the initial phase, at least. Of course, when the team goes out for detailed investigation, I’ll have to stay aboard, I suppose. Might have to take some action. But right now, I want a first-hand look. I still think like a sector patrolman, you know. And I might as well do some useful work while I’m looking.” He turned toward the viewsphere.
“You and Delman can co-ordinate the initial phase, just as I outline in the briefing,” he added. “Then you can handle the detailed examination on the Quinbar area when I come aboard again. I’ll take Krenall with me for now, and give Quinbar’s Imperial Duchy a quick check. Then we’ll come in and give you and Delman our information. You can carry it from there.” He paused, glancing around the room.
“By the way, where is Krenall?”
Barskor turned back to the console. “Should be across the corridor right now. He’s been helping Delman run in the scan maps on the instruction tapes.” He flipped a switch on the console.
“How you coming?”
Delman’s face appeared, faintly superimposed on the terrain image in the viewsphere.
“Just about done. Where’s the chief?”
“In here. He’s asking for Krenall.”
“I’ll send him right in.”
The faint image faded and Barskor turned around again. “Glad they assigned Krenall to us, sir,” he remarked. “Be excellent training for him, and I think he’s going to make a good agent.”
A wall section slid aside and Krenall came across the room. “You wanted me, sir?”
Meinora nodded. “You and I are going to take a little look at the capitol,” he said.
“Yes, sir. I was wondering what assignment I was due for.” Krenall grinned. “Couldn’t find myself on the tapes, so I thought I might catch the mapping detail.”
“Not necessary.” Meinora shook his head. “Barskor and Delman can take care of that easily enough. They can circle this planet from pole to pole, photographing as they run. It’ll only take them a few days to build up a full mock-up. And it’ll take us a lot longer than that to complete our initial phase. They’ll have lots of time to fill in our details. Besides, you’re the only trainee-agent they gave us. And we’d better train you.”
“Initial phase, sir?” Krenall looked disappointed. “We are going to make a complete observation, aren’t we?”
“We are. But we’ll take a quick look first, with full refraction on our personal shields. Then, we’ll do detailed observation, actually mingling with the natives and picking up their ways of thought. If possible, we’ll evaluate and initiate correction before we report back to Base. But in any event, we definitely don’t want to be seen by any Jorikan until we know all about them. By the time we show ourselves, we’ve got to blend in just like native Jorikans. That’ll take time and work.”
Krenall thought for a minute. “Sorry, chief,” he apologized. “I should have thought of that.” He touched a fingertip to his teeth. “You know, there’s one thing about this whole case that bothers me.”
“Oh?”
“We take all kinds of precautions, sir.” He pulled the finger away from his face and looked at it carefully. “I know they’re necessary, of course. They taught me that, and I’ve studied some of the difficulties that have occurred when precautions were neglected. For example, the ship’s on full camouflage refraction—undetectable, even to us. We have to be guided in. And we don’t show ourselves till we know more about the native customs, manners, terrain, social life, and so on than the natives themselves. That’s routine, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Meinora looked at him expectantly. “It is. So?”
“But those jokers they pulled out of Huilon didn’t take any of those precautions. They just brought their ship in. Oh, they did land in a deserted spot, of course, and they dug it in. But then they just started roaming around the planet. Learned the language and customs as they went. They violated practically every rule in our book. And they almost got away with it.”
Meinora smiled. “That they did,” he admitted. “But they didn’t have exactly the same objectives we do. Remember, they were going in to conquer, not to guide and slightly influence, or suggest. And they weren’t at all worried about later social and philosophical stresses. In fact, they wanted stress. As a result, they didn’t even consider several of the problems we take quite seriously.” He leaned against a safety rail.
“You see, Huilon is a civilized planet. And it’s in a Federation sector. It’s been hundreds of cycles since they even thought of a hostile visit. Of course, they have detection devices, but they use them only for aids to navigation. I suppose the Jorikan ship was picked up on some of their screens. And I suspect it was seen when it came in and crossed the countryside. But it was just another ship to the Huilonians. It crossed the sky, disappeared behind the horizon, and that was the end of it. It didn’t contact any spaceport for landing instruction and it didn’t ask for navigational or any other assistance. So, it just wasn’t noticed.” He held out a hand.
“And another thing. Huilon was and is accustomed to occasional visitors. Everyone wasn’t expected to fit into a mold, nor will they be in the future. So, a stranger who simply wandered around and looked things over without interfering noticeably with the peace of the community wasn’t any great novelty.” He shook his head.
“They just had it good, that’s all.”
He glanced up at the ship’s clock.
“Better alert the team, Barskor. And get your course spiral set up. Well drop the number one pair as soon as you’re at their area corner.”
He motioned with his head and went out, followed by Krenall.
One by one, the agents left the ship. And as they cleared, the cruiser resumed its course, to approach another area intersection. At last, Krenall stood on the small platform just outside the personnel exit, his hands on his belt. Meinora inspected him quickly, then nodded approvingly. The trainee’s equipment was complete and well secured. He was ready for the drop. The ship swooped toward the surface, then decelerated and hovered.
“Ready for drop?” Barskor’s thought was distinct and crisp, as though he were conducting a drill back at Base.
“Ready, one.” Meinora sensed Krenall’s thought.
“Ready, two,” he flashed.
“One off.” Krenall disappeared suddenly and Barskor paused. Meinora could vaguely sense his subdued countdown and he stepped quickly to the edge of the platform, waiting and looking downward through the thin mist.
“And two and one and—”
“One clear.” Krenall’s thought broke in. Barskor’s count had been correct, almost to the millisecond.”
“Two off.”
Meinora flicked his shield into activity and pushed away from the platform. He felt the slight tension as his shield interacted with the more powerful shielding modulation of the ship. Then he was floating free.
He glanced around, to see that he was apparently alone in the sky, drifting down slowly toward distant streets.
“Two clear.”
“Good luck, chief,” was the answering thought. “Ship clear and away.”
Meinora cut the lift on his shield. There was no point in drifting up here all day. The city came up at him rapidly, and he waited till he was just above the rooftops before checking his fall.
For a moment, he drifted aimlessly, just above the buildings, then he started quartering the city, examining the general plan. He looked about for Krenall, then laughed at himself. His assistant would be no more visible than he was.
“Krenall,” he thought, “are you down?”
He caught a projection of one of the large fabrication plants at the edge of the city. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good. We’ll check that sort of thing later. Right now, well go to the market square. That should be the best place to pick up language and dialect.”
Meinora rose above the highest rooftop and directed his course toward the center of the city.
Krenall turned away
from the playback and shook his head. “Funny people,” he remarked. “They’ve got me puzzled.”
“What’s the difficulty?”
Krenall bobbed his head at the playback. “So far, I’ve found plenty of evidence of a fairly well developed technology. But it’s all concentrated in one spot—right in the Duchy of Quinbar. Everywhere else, they’re primitive as they can get.”
Meinora grinned. “Manpower’s the cheapest thing they’ve got?”
“Something like that, sir. Or animal power. Of course, they do use a little water power, but their machinery’s pretty crude and inefficient. Even their weapons and warfare methods are primitive. And that’s getting toward the unusual, considering other factors.”
“Have you worked out any possible reason for all this?”
“Well,” Krenall stalled a little, “they’re completely one-sided in their technology, of course. And it seems funny that they’d settle for that particular set of phenomena. It looks as though someone made a single, basic discovery once. And they stopped research right there.”
“And?”
“Only a few people are allowed to know anything about scientific principles. They certainly don’t encourage study.”
“There’s your answer.” Meinora pointed at the playback. “They don’t encourage either study or research. Quite the contrary, in fact. One family, the Quinbars, got their hands on a revolutionary discovery—the secret of the negative gravitic field. And they kept it completely secret.” He jerked a thumb at the viewscreen.
“The results can be seen. They used their discovery to conquer their neighbors and eventually brought their entire planet under their rule.
They developed a few weapons and some gadgets, which they alone use.” He spread his hands.
“They know a little about the magneto-gravitic field principles, but they’ve guarded their basic secret carefully and they haven’t bothered to learn too much more. After all, if you’re top dog in a neighborhood, and you can persuade or force your neighbors to stop trying to compete, you don’t have to get any better, do you?” He picked up a tape reel and looked at it.
Complete Fiction (Jerry eBooks) Page 42