“And may I suggest another problem, Sire?”
His Supremacy nodded.
“The sneak base, Sire. Should we not consider its removal as having a top priority?”
“Fanzn,” the Co-ordinator commanded.
“My apologies, General Gludo,” Operations Chief Fanzn said. “I had forgotten that you were not here when the plans were made, although perhaps it would not have made any difference. I consulted only with His Supremacy when Foster asked me for a cruiser and a mission that would be good bait in a trap.
“As you see, the trap worked, though perhaps it worked only because our gyros are so inquisitive. And as for the base, it was removed, captured intact, before the Holoman had returned to Satellite.”
For a reason of his own, His Supremacy said, “The full story, Fanzn.”
“The aliens were on Xinian. They had built themselves a fairly large underground base. An old freighter, clearly in trouble, limped and staggered to an emergency landing there. Apparently by pure chance, it settled down directly over the aliens.”
Fanzn’s face glowed. “It wasn’t a freighter, of course, but a drone ship carrying a planet-wrecker. The idea came from one of the age-old romances common to our culture and theirs, of a vessel that looks harmless, but is actually as deadly as a heavy destroyer.
“Offered the choice of death or surrender, they surrendered. But why shouldn’t they? The percentage of escapes, thanks to the doppelgangers, is so high that it makes any other choice ridiculous.”
“Howtmann Slater, of course,” Gludo said.
Fanzn confirmed the guess. “The man is a combat genius. I wish I had more commanders like him.”
Now was the time, His Supremacy decided.
“Gentlemen, while we are feeling a little more cheerful, let us return to our problems. The minor one, first. I listen to your suggestions concerning the alien, Croyden.”
“Confirm his promotion, award him and the others a minor medal—perhaps a Lesser Sun—in the next General Bulletin, but without details of course. We should not advertise the Holoman affair. Send them to a rest camp as a group, make sure that in all their future assignments they remain together as a group. Gludo will keep them under surveillance.”
The AG then looked up from his numbered notes, added, “But I would rather kill him.”
“Does he know that we know he is an alien?” Gludo asked.
“Psych-Research says, probably no,” the AG answered. “They were very careful and all six survivors were kept drugged for the same length of time.”
“Then I must concur,” Gludo said, “both with the AG’s personal wish and his official recommendation.”
Fanzn was nodding slowly. “I agree, like Gludo, both personally and officially. This chance to study how they work, the chance that he may lead us to others, is too good to be missed.”
“I need a little more data,” Persal said, remaining super-cautious. “First, from Intelligence, how dangerous is Croyden?”
Gludo began his estimate with a low whistle. “Let’s not make Foster’s mistake and underrate our opponent. As I said, he described himself perfectly. Clever, ruthless, courageous, with a keen sense of values. For example, consider this: he rightly decided not to attempt the coup of killing us.”
Persal’s frown deepened. “And on the Holoman—”
“I haven’t examined the cruiser personally,” Gludo said, with a touch of impatience, “but it looks like the usual attack through the refreshers.”
“Yes, but how—”
“A matter of timing.” Gludo would never understand that some people would never add one and one to get ten. “And done just as he told us. You put nasal filters into place as you walk down the hall. You open the door, you’re the only one who can. You reach inside to switch on the conditioner, taking no chance on some gas being left in the office.
“And that was a bad mistake, by the way, telling us that point: how did he know it was off?
“But the rest of it, just as easy. You send the others in first and behind their backs drop another gas bomb. You’re safe in a room with its own air-supply, because their nerve-gas is usually inert in thirty seconds—”
“You’ve got with you the five junior officers who can run a cruiser,” Fanzn interrupted.
“And when you return, we promote you in the hope of using you as bait,” the AG added, bitterly.
“I must weigh two things. I think that he is too dangerous to live, you think he is too valuable to kill.” Fanzn chewed his lip. “However, if there is any chance that your surveillance will cut down the sabotage in my supply depots, then I must also concur with the AG.”
“Gentlemen, I would have over-ruled any other decision,” His Supremacy said, “though not for the reasons you have given.
“I want every alien among us to live undisturbed. It is the only way we can guarantee our own survival.”
Plainly, by their faces, by their postures, they did not understand him. And from a long way back, from his student officer days, His Supremacy recalled an instructor saying, “The primary function of an officer is to be a teacher, by precept and example.”
He sighed. This would be a difficult teaching job, because his students knew the facts he would present.
But they didn’t know what the facts meant.
“Let me ease this blow by stating that you have been a good staff and I hope that you will continue at your present state of efficiency. I have been especially pleased by the way each staff section has kept the others informed.
“But equally each of you has considered the facts which crossed your work-space only in the light of your day-today duties. I wonder if you have considered, for example, the real meaning of what research has told us.
“You may speak, Gludo.”
The youngest and probably most intelligent member of the staff tried to keep resentment from his voice. “They told us little of value, Sire. Merely that the aliens and ourselves probably had a common source, one of us colonizing the other. Something separated us. When the time-scales are adjusted, they show a similar gap. To their sciences, the minor variations are easily overcome and almost perfect doppelgangers are the result.”
“Almost perfect.” Persal sounded hopeful.
His Supremacy allowed irony to edge his voice. “You have missed the vital point: the replacement is generally more efficient.”
“Slater is certainly an improvement over his pre-war self,” Fanzn said, thoughtfully.
“Would you suggest improved efficiency as the field test of an alien’s presence? If so, I must be wary of my entire staff. All of you are better at your work than when this war began. As I am.”
His Supremacy dropped his ironic tone, continued with the meaning of the facts.
“First, even if we knew their technique—” The AG opened his mouth and His Excellency raised a finger. “I know, we are close to perfecting the same processing. I repeat, even if we knew the technique, we could not use it.”
“Why not?” from Persal, to whom the statement sounded like treason.
“For the same reason that we won at the beginning of this conflict and are losing now. Ours is a monolithic system, stressing obedience upward and authority downward.
“At the beginning, we held the advantage of unity of action. But we found no central authority to destroy. The enemy had a hundred heads, not one. They are trained in flexibility of thought, in acting on their own initiative. How many men do we have with similar capabilities? Speak from your own experience or ask our AG how many such he has in his files.”
No one asked; the AG’s face was answer enough.
“Though you have done your best, we cannot, because of this infiltration, prepare an offensive or hold a defense. Which in itself should be more than enough. Unfortunately, there is still more. As this conflict deepened in seriousness for us, we turned from basic research to applied research. The momentary results were very good and we were far ahead of them at one time.
; “The aliens did not make that mistake. You will recall our fight against that decision of the Great Council. And our advantage has slowly disappeared. As of now, we are happy to capture his equipment because he is in a minor but marked degree technologically more efficient. We know from our casualty lists that second best is first dead.”
There was silence, a silence that no one else could break. Once again His Supremacy realized how utterly alone he was.
“I am requesting an immediate conclave of the Great Council. I shall present to them what I have told you, together with my own conclusion: our only course is immediate surrender.”
Gludo asked the obvious question. “What do our psychological predictors say?”
“Their analysis states that this race who also call themselves human beings will give us an easy peace.”
He stood and his staff rose with him. He re-considered the advisability, then decided again to give specific assignments.
“Direct your thinking toward the problems of peace. Disguise it for the present as ‘Projects After Victory.’
“Gludo, Intelligence will analyze the markets throughout the Galaxy, what is or will be needed when and where.
“Persal, add the information to your files on sources of supplies. We will then know where the products can be obtained. Also, have your engineers begin a study of the quickest way to convert the Galactic Fleet to freighters.
“On that information, Fanzn, re-group our forces to use our men in the fastest and most economical operation as trading fleets. An important consideration will be to return the men to their own parts of the Galaxy.
“Begin adding to your staff,” His Excellency said to his AG. “You will need more personnel when Fanzn begins requesting these re-assignments. And add this proposition to your breakdown: which men can be most quickly converted to a peace-time economy?”
He almost dismissed them before he remembered. “Oh, yes, on all these projects, drop your doppelganger safeguards.”
Even Gludo reacted to the idea as if it were a bomb.
“Gentlemen, reason it out. Don’t you understand why I want the aliens among us to live with us undisturbed? Let them work on these projects and we will convince them, before we make our offer, that we mean what we say.”
He raised his glass. “A toast, to our War Colleges, who did not foresee a struggle in which the enemy could not be recognized.”
As he raised his glass, over the rim he studied their faces, wishing that he could be certain how many of them, like himself, were human. But that was impossible to learn. The problems of identity inherent in using doppelgangers had almost forbidden the practice until the Department had decided that each agent must operate virtually alone.
Could it be all of them, he wondered. They had become such an efficient staff.
If it was, he would try to get them together after the war. They could write a most interesting combined paper on the particular skills needed to lose a war while pretending to win it.
<
* * * *
As a San Francisco co-national, it was inevitable— maybe it was even fair—that Anthony Boucher should be the first to snare the writing talents of Miriam Allen deFord for his publication. But it could not last. The girl was too good to keep pinned to one market. It is a joy for us all that others can find themselves able to publish such splendid examples of her work as-
PRESS CONFERENCE
by Miriam Allen deFord
Ladies and gentlemen of the press, before I introduce to you the lady known as Miss X, I owe you, as chairman of the Far Space Research Committee of the UN, an explanation and an apology. I hope, however, that you, who are all experienced reporters with credentials from the tridimens chains and newstape syndicates of the Three Planets, have already understood why it has not been possible before this for you to interview the first human being to travel outside our solar system and to return. Security, ladies and gentlemen! That old devil security, as I believe one of the authors of the 20th century once put it. You have covered the tumultuous public welcomes, the enormous receptions, the formal investitures with decorations and honorary degrees. But until today, two months after her arrival at the Melbourne airport—counting in the week it took her for recuperation—we could not clear Miss X for questioning by the press.
But now all of the closed sessions have been held. The information Miss X has given us has been classified. And she has been fully briefed on what she is free to say to you.
One word more before I leave her to your tender mercies, ha ha. (I shall be right here by her side, to assist you and her if the going gets hard.) There is nothing classified about our concealment of our pioneer extra-solarian’s name under the clumsy pseudonym of “Miss X.” That was done only because her own name is difficult to spell and pronounce. Also, her knowledge of our international language, English, is not perfect, and she is not used to public speaking. Please be patient, therefore, and after she has made her introductory remarks, question her one at a time and as clearly and simply as you can. I cannot interpret for her because I do not know her language, but I shall do my best to help if you or she should have difficulty in understanding.
And now, it gives me infinite pleasure to present to you Dor-je Lhor-kang, alias “Miss X,” the premier explorer of the Galaxy outside our solar system.
* * * *
Tank you, Mr. Rasmussen. I am wery glad be able to talk to you, and troo you to whole Eart and Moon and Mars and Wenus Colonies.
And first I explain to you how I am chosen to be one to go.
Before even man go to Moon, let alone udder planets, way back hoondred years ago or more, scientists consider what kind of human bein best fitted successfully penetrate space. All physical, psychological, mental attributes which is most likely to succeed. Here, I read to you what one wrote as prescription:
“Should be midget woman from high Andes, used to tin air, wit doctor’s degree in physics, and wit even, extroverted disposition.”
Sounds like yoke, but was proved true. Some tings self-evident, but I should add midget because space in ship so limited, calm disposition because of terrible monotony and loneliness on long journey. Women more patient as men.
But no, said Aviation Medical School of American Air Force, not woman—-never possible, we put women on pedestal, must not risk mudders of race to sacrifice. So dey say, but maybe what dey mean is, women not good as men, eh? So, many still felt, hoondred years ago.
And even more, where sooch women could be found in high Andes—dat would be Peru, Chile, no? Dere women still more limited as in udder parts of Eart. And where find midget wit good brains to become Ph.D. in physics?
Den said delegate from USSR, we can do. Whatever is done, we do first. We find you sooch women. Not in Andes—in Tibet, which is yoost as high up, air yoost as tin. And if we cannot find, we make.
Was long discoossion in UN. Den, I tink because Western nations tink dis all boast and no performance, UN say, wery well, you bring us five or six sooch women, for not mooch chance first two or tree ever come back. And if by den we have not something better, we give dem opportoonity.
Five years, say Roossians, we show you.
And dey look all over Tibet for women what is midgets, like me. Oonder four -feet high, and Tibetans tall people. Den what dey find, dey put troo—oh, such examinations, to see which has good minds, even if cannot read and write. Dat not so hard, because in Tibet women always not on pedestal, but head of household, used to running tings, smart. Out of all dey get tree, and I am one. No compoolsion, all us crazy to go. You from West, you will say, oh yes, after hoondred years under Chinese Communists, Tibetans only too glad to leave Eart—
Please, Miss X! Remember—absolutely no politics.
I understand, Mr. Rasmussen. I yoost make like yoke.
So we forget dat. Dey take us tree. No need examine us for calm disposition, all Tibetans calmest people on Eart. But for five years—oh, such intensive training, physics, physical chemistry,
astronomy, astrogation, you never see. All day we study, and when we sleep we switch on machine and study some more. And at end we taken to Moscow University, and to Sorbonne, and to Cambridge, and to Massachusetts Institute Technology, and each place we go troo written, spoken exams, and each place we all tree pass wit honors, and we have now Ph.D. degree from all. We all midgets, we all in perfect healt and feeling happy, we all doctors in physics, we all women wit no husband, no children to distract our mind, and we all filled with yoost one feeling—risk life gladly to be first to reach outer space.
Den USSR delegate presents us before UN committee. We do not find you five or six, delegate says, but here is tree. Have you anything better to offer?
Star Science Fiction 6 - [Anthology] Page 15