The Day After Doomsday

by Poul Anderson

  “Why should he lay Earth waste? Its biochemistry was similar to that of Kandemir. Which made the living planet a far more valuable prize than the present lump of rock, which can only be reseeded with life at great difficulty and expense, over a period of decades. The nomads are ruthless, but not stupid. Their sole conceivable motive for sterilizing Earth would have been as a terrible object lesson to their enemies. And then they would have boasted of what they did, not denied it.”

  Donnan forced himself to take the paper in his hand and punch some keys on his desk calculator. He had never done harder work in his life.

  “Yes, yes, you speak sensible,” Sigrid was agreeing. “Also, as ve have said, if they vere going to interdict the Solar System, they could have done the job better than vith obsolescent missiles badly programmed. For that matter, Mr. Ramri, v’y should they patrol the System at all? They could have taken it over as part of the general settlement after they von the var, as they expected to vin. Until then, just an occasional visit to make sure nobody vas using it against them vould have been enough. There was nothing to gain from the missiles.”

  The calculator chattered. Donnan’s brain felt like a lump of ice.

  “Do you imply that Kandemir never even placed those missiles there?” Ramri asked. “But who did?”

  Numbers appeared on the calculator dial. The equation balanced.

  Donnan turned around. His voice was flat and empty. “I know who.”

  “What? Hvad?” They stepped closer, saw his expression, and grew still.

  AN immense, emotionless steadiness descended on the surface of the man. He pointed. “These notes scribbled inside that one missile,” he said. “What they were should have been obvious all along. The women failed to see it because they had too much else to think about. They dismissed the whole question as unimportant. But I should have realized the moment I looked. You too, Ramri. I suppose we didn’t want to realize.”

  The golden eyes were level upon him. “Yes? What are those symbols, then, Carl?”

  “A conversion table. Jotted down by some technician used to thinking in terms of one number system, who had to adjust instruments, propulsion gear and control calibrateds that were in another number system.

  “The Kandemirians use a twelve-based arithmetic. These other numerals are based on six.”

  The girl bit her lip and frowned, puzzled why Donnan was so white. Ramri stood as if carved until, slowly, he spread out his two three-fingered hands.

  “It checks,” Donnan said. “The initial notation alone, giving the numbers from one to six in parallel rows, is a giveaway. But here are the conversions of some other figures, to which I reckon this or that dial had to be set. The squiggle in between, that Sigrid represented by a colon, has to be an equality sign. BA is 25 in Kandemirian; so is NQ in the other system. ABIJ and MOQMP both represent 2134. And so on. No doubt about it.”

  Ramri made a croaking noise. “A subject race,” he managed to articulate. “I, I, I think the Lenyar of Druon . . . the nomads conquered them a long time ago . . . they did formerly employ—” Donnan shook his head. “Nope,” he told them. “Won’t go. You yourself just listed the reasons for calling Kandemir innocent of this particular crime.” Understanding came upon Sigrid. She edged away from Ramri, lifting her hands to fend him off. “Monvaing?” she breathed.

  “Yes,” said Donnan.

  “No!” Ramri yelled. “I give you my soul in pawn, it is not true!”

  “I never said you were party to the deed yourself,” Donnan answered. A dim part of him wanted to take Ramri in his arms, as he had done the day they first saw murdered Earth. But his feet seemed nailed to the floor.

  HIS voiced proceeded, oddly echoing within his skull: “Once we grant Monwaing did this, the pieces fall into place. The only objections I can see are that Monwaing wouldn’t destroy a good market and a potential ally, and in any event would be too decent to do such a thing.

  But Ramri, Monwaing isn’t a single civilization. You didn’t recognize these numerals here. Nobody on your planet uses them. However, there are Monwaingi planets you’ve never seen. And some of the civilizations developed by your race are very hard-boiled. The biotechnic orientation. If it’s okay to manipulate life in any way convenient, then it’s okay to destroy life on any scale convenient. Tantha wouldn’t do so; but Laothaung, say, might. And the central government is dominated by Laothaung and similarly minded Societies.

  “Those cultures aren’t traders, either. Earth as a market meant little to them. What did concern them was Earth as a keg of dynamite. Remember, Resident Wandwai admitted we were too poor and backward as yet to be of military help! And he admitted knowing about that provocative treaty between Russia and Vorlak. Laothaung might well have feared that Kandemir would seize the excuse to invade Earth—thereby spreading the war to Monwaing’s most vulnerable flank.

  “Oh, they didn’t hate humans. I’m sure we survivors would have been well treated, had we stayed in their sectors. But neither did they love us. We, like any living creatures, were just phenomena, to be dealt with as suited their own ends. If they destroyed Earth, they could pin the blame on Kandemir by such methods as planting captured Kandemirian missiles in orbit . . . but not making the missiles too damned effective. That was quite a sound calculation, too. Anger against Kandemir helped out the war effort no end.

  “To play safe, they prepared a second-line cover story. I don’t know whether the Xoan was bribed or forced to tell that whopper about the doomsday weapon. I do know the story was well concocted, with a lot of detail such as only an alien race that had close acquaintance with Earth could have gotten straight. However, wasn’t it a little too pat, that Wandwai had a copy of a top-secret film right in his own regional office? That struck me odd at the time.

  “What else might Monwaing gain by blasting Earth? The planet itself, in due course. They figured on winning the war, as belligerents generally do figure. Because of the ecological differences, Monwaing could only colonize Earth if it was sterile first. Your setup of many different cultures, each wanting at least one world to itself, makes you actually a good deal more imperialistic than Kandemir ever was. You simply aren’t so blunt about it.

  “Yeah. I’ve no doubt left in my mind. Monwaing killed our planet. A real slick job. The only thing they overlooked was what a helpless, fugitive shipload of surviving humans might end up doing. You can’t blame them for not foreseeing that. I wouldn’t have myself.”

  Donnan stopped talking.

  “YOU have no proof,” Ramri keened.

  “No courtroom proof,” Donnan replied. “Now that we know where to search, though, I don’t doubt we can find it.”

  “What . . . do you plan . . . to do, Carl?”

  “I don’t know,” Donnan admitted heavily. “Sit on the lid till the Kandemirian business is finished, I reckon. Meanwhile we can gather evidence.”

  “Ah, nej,” Sigrid cried out. “Not another var, so soon!”

  Ramri shuddered. And then the beaked head lifted. Sunlight came in a window and blazed along his feathers. He said with death in his tone: “That will not be necessary. Not for you.”

  The frozenness began to break in Donnan. He took an uneven step toward the being who had been his friend. “I never thought you—” he stammered. “Only the smallest handful of your race—”

  Ramri avoided him. “Of course,” he said. “The majority of us shall restore our honor. But this may not be done easily. More than a few individuals must suffer. More, even, than one or two Societies. You need not concern yourselves in this affair, humans. You must not. It is ours.

  “I hope the settlement and cleaning need annihilate no more than our mother planet.”

  He strode jerkily toward the door. “I shall organize the search for positive evidence myself,” he said, like a machine, never looking back at them. “When the case is prepared, it shall be put before the proper representatives of each Society. Then the groundwork of action must be quietly laid. I expect our ci
vil war will begin in about one year.”

  “Ramri, no! Why, your people are the leaders of this whole cluster—”

  “You must succeed us.”

  The Monwaingi went out. Donnan realized he had never known him.

  Sigrid came to give the man what comfort she was able. Presently they heard an aircar take off. It hit the sky so fast that it trailed a continuous thunderbolt, as if new armadas were already bound for battle.

  They looked at each other. “What have we done?”

  —POUL ANDERSON