To Outlive Eternity

by Poul Anderson

  Hordelin Barjat (shaken): "Well . . . that is . . . no wish to offend others—Monwaing already had interests on Earth—"

  Kaungtha: "Nonsense! No treaty forbade competition in the Terrestrial market. The Monwaingi confederation as a whole undertakes no obligation to protect the commercial interests of those member Societies that engage in trade. No, the secrecy was required by your tentative purpose. Explain in your own words what you had in mind."

  Hordelin-Barjat: "I—that is—I mean—All those ridiculous nations and tribes there—hold overs from the Stone Age, and still unable to agree . . . in the face of galactic culture . . . agree on unity and global peace—"

  Kaungtha: "You hoped, then, to sell one or two of those countries a highly advanced weapon that would overthrow the delicate balance of power existing on Earth. If this became known in advance to the rival nations, either preventive war would break out at once or an agreement would be reached to ban such devices. In either case, Xo would make no sale. Hence the secrecy."

  Hordelin-Barjat: "I wouldn't put it just that way, officer. We had no intention—we never foresaw—I tell you, they were mad. The whole race was mad. Best they did die, before their lunacy threatened everyone else."

  Kaungtha (sighing): "Spare me the rationalizations."

  Hordelin-Barjat: "But, but, but you must understand—We are not murderers! Insofar as a psychology so alien could be predicted, we felt that . . . well, believe me, we had even read some of their own theoretical works, analyses of their own situation. A weapon like this had been discussed by Terrestrial thinkers in various books and journals. They felt—that is, the ultimate deterrent to aggressions, a guaranteed peace—Well, if the Earthlings themselves believed such a device would have this effect, how should we know otherwise?"

  Kaungtha: "Some of them did. Most did not. In two decades of dealing with Terrestrials, we Monwaingi have gotten some insight into their thought processes. They are—were—they had more individual variability than Xoans; more than any two members of one given Monwaingi Society." (Leaning forward, harsh tone, machine-gun rattle of papers). "You gathered those data which pleased you and ignored the rest."

  Hordelin-Barjat: "I—we—"

  Kaungtha: "Proceed. Which country did you sell this weapon to?"

  Hordelin-Barjat: "Well, actually . . . two. Not two countries exactly. Two alliances. Power blocs. Whatever they were called. We avoided the major powers. Among other reasons, they—uh—"

  Kaungtha: "They had too many extraterrestrial contacts. Word of your project might easily have leaked out to civilized planets, which might well have forbidden it. Also, being strong to begin with, the large nations would feel less menaced from every side; less persecuted; less petulant. In a word, less ready to buy your wares. Proceed."

  Hordelin-Barjat: "I strongly object to your, er, cynical interpretation of our motives."

  Kaungtha: "Proceed, I told you."

  Hordelin-Barjat: "Uh—uh—well, our clients had to be countries that did possess some military force—space missiles and so on—and thereby might well expect to be attacked with missiles in the early stages of a war. We approached the Arabian-North African alliance for one. It felt itself being encircled as relations between Israel and the more southerly African states grew increasingly close. And then there was the Balkan alliance, under Yugoslavian leadership—suspicious of the Western countries, still more suspicious of Russia, from whose influence they had barely broken free—and sure to be a battleground if outright war ever did break out between East and West."

  Kaungtha: "Let us positively identify the areas in question. You do not pronounce them very reliably, Navigator." (Projecting a political globe of Earth) "Here, here, here, here. Have I indicated the correct regions?"

  Hordelin-Barjat: "Yes." (Hastily) "You realize these were second- and third-rate powers. They needed defense, not means of aggrandizement. What we sold them—"

  Kaungtha: "Describe that briefly, please."

  Hordelin-Barjat: "A set of disruption bombs. Buried deep in the planetary crust . . . and beneath the ocean beds . . . strategic locations—You are familiar with the technology. They—the bombs belonging to a given alliance—they would go off automatically. If more than three nuclear explosions above a certain magnitude occurred within the borders of any single member country . . . all those bombs would explode. At once."

  Kaungtha (softly): "And would wipe the planet clean. In seconds."

  Hordelin-Barjat: "Yes, humane, quick, yes. Of course, that was not the intention. Not anyone's intention. These small powers—they planned to go, oh, very discreetly, in deepest secrecy—they would approach the other governments and say, 'In the event of general war, we are doomed anyway. But now you will die with us. Therefore you must refrain from making war, ever again.' I assure you, the idea was to promulgate peace."

  Kaungtha: "Did you witness the actual installation?"

  Hordelin-Barjat: "No. My ship only conducted, uh, preliminary negotiations. Others came later, technicians and, so on. I was informed . . . once . . . verbally . . . that the task had been completed and payment made. But I never saw—" (Shriller than before) "I give you assurance I was as shocked as anyone to hear—not long afterward—my superiors, too—Who could have known that the whole Terrestrial species was insane?"

  Kaungtha: "Have you any idea what might have happened, exactly?"

  Hordelin-Barjat: "No. Perhaps . . . oh, I can't say. . . . No doubt a war did break out—regardless. If they were already on edge, those governments, then the increased tension . . . feeling this was a bluff that should be called—Or even an accident. I don't know, I tell you! Let me alone!"

  Kaungtha: "That appears sufficient, Navigator. End interview."

  The cube of light blanked out.

  Donnan heard himself speaking in a voice not his own, "I don't believe it! I won't! Take back your lies, you—"

  Ramri pushed him against the wall and held him till he stopped struggling. Wandwai gazed at the symbols burned into the ceiling as if to find some obscure comfort.

  "Not murder, then," the Resident said at last. "Suicide."

  "They wouldn't!"

  "You may reject this evidence," said the gentle, surgical voice. "Admittedly it is not conclusive. The Xoan might have lied. Or, even if he told the truth, the Kandemirians might still have launched an attack. Especially if they, somehow, learned about those bombs. For then the destruction of Earth would be absurdly simple. A few medium-power nuclear missiles, landing within a fair-sized geographical area, would touch off the supreme explosion. But Earth herself would nevertheless have provided the means."

  Donnan covered his face and sagged.

  When he looked at them again, Wandwai had put the projector and spool away. "For the sake of surviving humans, captain, as well as Monwaingi policy," the Resident murmured, "I trust you will hold this confidential. Now come, shall we discuss your further plans? Despite the ecological problems, I am sure a home can be made for you within our hegemony—"

  "No," said Donnan.

  "What?" This time Wandwai did blink.

  "No. We're heading back to Vorlak. Our ship, the rest of our people—"

  "Oh, they can come here. Monwaing will arrange everything with the Dragar."

  "I said no. We got a war to finish."

  "Even after Kandemir is proven probably innocent?"

  "I don't accept your proof. Y-y-you'll have to trot out something more solid than a reel of film. I'm going to keep on looking . . . on my own account. . . . Anyway, Kandemir did kill some of my crew. And ought to be stopped on general principles. And there's still the idea we had of making a galaxy-wide splash. I'm going. Thanks for your . . . your hospitality, guv'nor. So long."

  Donnan lurched from the room.

  Ramri stared after him a minute, then started in pursuit. Wandwai, who had remained still except for slow puffs on his cigar, called: "Do you think it best we stop him?"

  "No, honored Resident," Ramri answered. "It is ne
cessary for him to depart. I am leaving too."

  "Indeed? After so long an absence from home?"

  "He may need me," Ramri said, and left.

  XII

  Who going through the vale of misery use it for a well:

  and the pools are filled with water.

  They will go from strength to strength.

  —The Book of Common Prayer

  Black and mountainous, the ancestral castle of Hlott Luurs covered the atoll on which it was built and burrowed deep into the rock. Sheer walls of fused stone ended in watchtowers overlooking the fishers' huts on two neighboring islets, and in missile turrets commanding the sky above. Today, as often at every latitude on Vorlak, that sky hung low. Smoky clouds tinged with bronze by the hidden sun flew on a wind that whipped the sea to a grey-green restlessness. When he stood up, Carl Donnan got a faceful of spindrift. The air was warm, but the wind whistled and the surf boomed with a singularly cold noise.

  He braced his feet against roll and lurch as Ger Nenna changed course. "We must go in by the west gate," the scholar called. "None but Dragar and the Overmaster may use the north approach." His fur gleamed with salt water; he had removed his robes to keep them dry when the boat started off from Port Caalhova. Donnan stuck to his shabby coverall and a slicker.

  Pretty overbearing type, that Hlott, the man thought. Oh, sure, he's entitled to be ceremonious—president of the Council and all that. And in times like these you can't blame him for not allowing any fliers but his into this area. And his refusal to talk with me after I got back is within his rights. But when you add everything together, he's treating us humans like doormats and it has got to stop. He put arms akimbo. The old Mauser would have been comforting on his hip today. But naturally, he wasn't allowed to bear weapons here. He couldn't even have gotten this interview had it not been for Ger Nenna's repeated petitions.

  They passed a few fisher craft, off which commoners dove like seals to herd schools detected by sonar beams into giant scoops.

  A patrol boat set down on the water and the pilot bawled a challenge. Ger identified himself and was waved on. A clifflike wall loomed dead ahead. The portcullis was raised as Ger steered toward the entrance. Within, several boats lay docked in a basin. Ger made fast.

  "Have you reconsidered your plan, captain, as I requested?" he asked.

  "Uh-huh," Donnan nodded. "But I'll stick with it."

  "Have you fully understood how dangerous it is? A Draga, any Draga, is supreme within his own demesne. Hlott could kill you here and there would be no lawful redress, no matter how small and poor an aristocrat he was."

  "But he is not small and poor," Donnan pointed out. "He's the boss of this planet. And there lies my chance." He shrugged. The bitterness that Ger had noticed and wondered about, ever since the Hrunna survivors returned from Katkinu, whetted his tone. "We're the ones who're poor, we humans. Nothing to lose. And that fact can also be turned into an asset."

  Ger toweled himself more or less dry and slipped the plain black robe over his head. "In the Seven Classics of Voyen," he said anxiously, "one may read, 'Many desperations do not equal one hope.' Captain, you know I favor your cause. Not from charity, but on the dim chance that you may indeed bring this wretched war to an end. Only when the interstellar situation has become stable will there be any possibility of restoring—no, not the Eternal Peace; that is gone forever—but the true Vorlakka civilization. You must never believe these swaggering Dragar represent our inherent nature as a species."

  "Lord, no." Donnan shucked his slicker and helped Ger tie an embroidered honorific sash. "In fact, pal, if the breakdown of your old universal state had not thrown up a warlord class, you'd be a pretty sorry lot. Ready? Let's go, then. Yonder guard is beginning to give us a fishy look."

  They debarked and were frisked. Ger was searched nominally and with a ritual apology, Donnan like a criminal arrested for malicious hoodblinkery and aggravated conspiculation. He submitted without paying much heed. He was too busy rehearsing what—No, by God! A set speech was exactly the wrong approach. Marshal his facts, sure; but otherwise play it by ear. Keeping cool was the main thing. He was about to walk a tightrope over a pit full of razor blades.

  A servant ushered them down wet, ringing corridors, up ramps worn smooth by warlike generations, and so at last to a relatively small room. It had a transparent domed roof, the walls were brightly colored, and furniture stood about. A solarium, Donnan guessed. The guide bowed low and went out. The door shut behind him, thick and heavy.

  Hlott Luurs was sprawled nude on a couch. The light from above rippled along his mahogany fur. He raised himself to one elbow and regarded them with chill eyes. No one else was present, but a web-footed, long-fanged animal, tiger size, lay at his feet. A borren, Donnan recognized. It rumbled at him until Hlott clicked his tongue for silence.

  Ger Nenna advanced and bent his head. "My captain," he greeted, "dare this worm express thanks for your graciousness in heeding his prayer, or should he accept it in silence as the winter earth accepts vernal sunshine?"

  "If the honorable steersman truly wants to show gratitude," said Hlott dryly, "he can spare me any future time-wastings as silly as this."

  "I beg leave to assure the President that the Terrestrial captain brings news of great import."

  "Yes, he does." Hlott's gaze smoldered on Donnan. Briefly, teeth flashed white in his blunt muzzle. "But I've already heard that news, you see. A good destroyer thrown away at Mayast, together with Draga Olak Faarer's life, my kinsman. Kandemir handed the secret of the new paragrav detector, as the price for sparing the flotsam lives of a few Earthlings. That is the news. And now this creature not only has the insolence to return to Vorlak—he demands we put him in charge of still more operations! Be grateful to Ger Nenna, you. I'd have blasted every last wretch of your gang before now, had he not persuaded me otherwise."

  Donnan sketched an obeisance. "My captain," he said, "you agreed yourself to let us try that raid, and you were told that success wasn't guaranteed. Trying to shift the whole blame on us would be a sneaking trick."

  "What?" Hlott's hackles rose. He sat straight. The borren sensed his mood and got up too, tail lashing, throat like thunder.

  Donnan didn't stop to be afraid. He dared not. He kept his words loud and metallic: "Thanks for finally agreeing to hear our side of the fiasco. If you really plan to listen to me. And you'd better. This affair hasn't weakened us as you think. We're stronger than before. By 'we' I mean the Franklin's men; but we'll include Vorlak if you want."

  The borren started toward him. Hlott called it back with a curt order. I gauged him right, then, Donnan thought, beneath his own pulsebeat and sweat. He's not so stuck on himself that he won't stop to look at facts shoved under his nose. He's not stupid at all, really; just raised in a stupid milieu.

  He won't kill me simply because he gets peeved. No. He'll have excellent logical reasons.

  The Draga shivered with self-restraint. "Speak, then," he said in a strangled voice. "Explain how Kandemir's possessing the new detector strengthens anyone except Tarkamat."

  "Those detectors are prototypes, my captain," said Donnan, moderating his tone. "At best, a few enemy ships may now have handmade copies. It'll take months to get them into real production. So unless we let the stalemate drag on, we haven't lost much on that account.

  "The Kandemirians also have a glimpse of the theory behind the detectors. But a very partial glimpse. And they'll need time to digest their knowledge, time to see the implications and develop the possibilities. We—Arnold Goldspring and his helpers—have been thinking about this subject, off and on, for close to three years while we cruised around exploring. We've given it really concentrated attention since we returned to this cluster.

  "When Goldspring and I arrived back at Vorlak from Katkinu, we found that his associates who'd stayed behind in the Franklin had not been idle. Thanks to Ger Nenna, who arranged access to computers and other high-powered research tools, they'd gone a long ways towa
rd developing half a dozen new applications. It's a case of genuine scientific breakthrough. Inventions based on Goldspring's principle are going to come thick and fast for a while. And we've got the jump on everybody else."

  "I have been told about theoretical designs and laboratory tests," Hlott said disgustedly. "How long will it take to produce something that really works?"

  "Not long, my captain," Donnan said. "That is, if a massive scientific-technological effort can be mounted. If the best Vorlakka and allied minds can work together. And that's the real technique we Earthlings have got that you don't. A feudal society like yours, or a nomadic culture like Kandemir, or a coalition of fragments like Monwaing, isn't set up to innovate on purpose. We can tell you how to organize a development project. In less than a year, we can load you for . . . for borren . . . and break the deadlock."