The Eleventh Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapack

by F. L. Wallace

  By the time he did, it was too late to stop it. The amphitheater was a trap. If someone had tried, he couldn’t have selected a neater arena. They had to fight, even those who didn’t want to; there was no place to escape to. Over the sides of the steep bowl perhaps, but those who climbed up were an irresistible target from behind. As he watched, a Kransian girl fell with a knife in her side as she struggled up the slope.

  Jason looked for Airsta. She had disappeared, possibly summoning aid, though why she hadn’t used the coo-unit on her shoulder, he didn’t know. Maybe she called for aid when he wasn’t watching. Trembling with greater rage than he had ever felt, he rushed into the melee. These were his people, and they all had professed interest in Amity. A fist struck him on the temple and he fell again. This time he did not rise.

  * * * *

  When he regained consciousness there was an uneasy silence. Airsta bent over him. “You’re all right,” she said. “Lie still.” He ignored her; he’d been lying still. He moved his arms and legs; nothing broken, although he was stiff and sore. He sat up. He was still in the amphitheater. So were three Merhavians and several Kransians. Those who were able, with the exception of Carlos, had left. She didn’t seem injured, but she was stunned and lethargic.

  He got to his feet, Airsta helping him. Still the Restapan police and hospital corps had not arrived. Airsta interpreted his look. “They’ll be here soon.”

  He hobbled among the fallen. One, a Merhavian he didn’t know, unconscious but breathing, though he soon wouldn’t be. The Kransian girl with the knife in her side. The bleeding had stopped; she twisted her head and stared at him blankly.

  His Merhavian grandfather opened his eyes as Jason came near. He attempted to smile, but his muscles were no longer under control and he grimaced. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

  Perhaps he didn’t but, he’d done an excellent job of starting it, he and Grandy. Nevertheless, Jason believed him. He hadn’t come with the intention of fighting.

  “At the spaceport they told me where I could find you,” he whispered. “I wanted to see you—and them.”

  Airsta compressed her lips. She didn’t say anything, but Jason could imagine. Someone at the spaceport would get a strong note from Restap Intrade.

  Grandfather was whispering again. Jason had to kneel at his side. “For a while I liked them. I’m glad.” He coughed and closed his eyes and rested. With considerable effort he opened his eyes. “It was surprising to see what they were like. So peaceful.” He licked his dry lips. “I don’t hate anyone, even them.” This time his eyes stayed closed and the granite in his cheeks seemed to crumble.

  Jason stood up. The police and medical copters were settling in the amphitheater. The businesslike administration of which Restapans were so proud for once had failed to function. They were far too late. The hospital corps moved rapidly through the dead and wounded and the police cleaned up after them. They came to Carlos, and before Jason could protest, an orderly inserted a hypo in her thigh. It was probably just as well; she needed a sedative.

  * * * *

  Jason sat at the Electronic Advisor; last time the answers had been less than satisfactory. It wasn’t likely to be better now, but he did have more data, and maybe the machine could come up with something.

  He actuated the Advisor and verbally gave it all the interim information he’d collected. The machine took a long time to arrange it logically.

  “Well, Jason, what do you think of it?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” he said wearily. “That’s why I brought you in on it.”

  “Of course. But there’s such a thing as fringe information; you can’t give it to me because you aren’t aware of its existence. Nevertheless, it often influences your decisions. For instance, you may not categorize the expression on a man’s face, but you will or won’t trust him because of it. And you’re usually right.”

  Jason brushed it aside. “It shouldn’t have happened,” he said. “There was no provocation.”

  “There was provocation. It occurred above or below the level of your perceptions, but it was there.”

  He had the frightening feeling the machine was right. “What do you mean?” he asked. This might be the first clue.

  “Nothing in particular. A word, a tone of voice, a memory. A sudden movement that may have been only light flashing on a leaf and someone thought it was a drawn knife. Can you say it was none of these? It happened; and therefore there was a reason for it.”

  He couldn’t say there wasn’t, but everybody had memories and saw a leaf. If peace between them depended on so little, then it would never be achieved. The machine was missing something. And so was he.

  “I have the illogical feeling it happened because of me,” he said.

  “Not illogical, suptalugical,” said the machine.

  It seemed to be running more smoothly with the passage of time. “The picnic was arranged by Kransians, and your grandfather came to it, in both eases because of you. But in the sense of guilt, no. You couldn’t foresee the result.”

  Jason didn’t admit to need for the full psychiatric treatment nor the smallest part of it, and so he passed off the reassurance. “I’m the common link,” he said. “Examine everything you know about me.”

  “There’s another link you’ve forgotten,” said the Advisor. “Restap.”

  “In what way?”

  “No particular data. However, Restap has contacted Merhaven and Kransi for centuries. Obviously they’ve devised suitable techniques for that purpose.”

  “Separately they have techniques, perhaps. But that doesn’t say that the techniques Will work when the two come face to face.”

  “True. And I was implying no conscious manipulation on the part of Restapans. Nevertheless they can add to your data if they will.”

  The Electronic Advisor fell silent and remained silent. Jason waited while minutes passed. Still the machine did not reply. “What’s the delay?” he said impatiently.

  “There’s more data,” said the Advisor. “I’m examining it.”

  “Does it take so long?”

  “In this case it does. The records of your father’s conversation are suddenly available. Not less than one night a week, several hours each time. The entire period covers nearly fifteen years.”

  A mountain of conversation, and it took that long even for a psycho-computer to go through it. “Do you know why it’s available now when it wasn’t before?”

  The machine went back into the past. “When the ship was on Merhaven, the repair technicians checked all circuits as a matter of course. They adjusted those that weren’t functioning properly, including those in the memory bank.”

  That had a lot of implications, some of which he didn’t like. “Did they get any information?”

  “None. They weren’t interested in anything you did.”

  That was better. And it was also proof, if he needed it, that Merhavians were more expert technicians than they pretended to be. “Just what light does this throw in the problem?”

  “There are two facts,” said the Ada-Oor. “I’ll summarize each, since references are scattered through several thousand hours of conversation—unless you’d rather have the pertinent quotations.”

  “The summary will be enough.”

  “Good. Your father was born on Merhaven and never left it until he came to Restap on business. It was here he met your mother.”

  That was news, how his parents had met. Although if he had stopped to think, he probably would have arrived at the correct conclusion. But the facts were better than logic. “I don’t see what it adds up to,” he said.

  “Just this—a man from Merhaven met a woman from Kransi—on Restap. That’s happened before, in space and on other planets, and in every recorded instance when they parted, regardless of sex or any other factor, one was dead. But in this case there was no conflict.”

  Jason closed his eyes; it proved something and yet it didn’t. You’d expect normal persons to
meet peacefully. The fact that there was only one such meeting—did that prove that the people of Kransi and Merhaven were not normal? He rather suspected that it did, though he couldn’t define what he meant by normal. Another thing—it had happened on Restap. What did that have to do with it? Planetary influences? If there was only the evidence of his father and mother to consider, he might accept that as a basis. But there was the picnic. Representatives of the two races met. Friction was at a minimum, and then, in the middle of a sentence something had changed—fighting broke out. And later, after the battle was over, the situation changed back again. Peace—conflict—peace. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Fringe information, the Advisor had said, but he knew his Merhavian grandfather had gone through those stages. There was no planetary influence that could account for it. Not in such a short time.

  That left another factor. He opened his eyes. “Hypnosis?” he asked.

  “By Restapans, you mean,” said the Advisor. “Use your head. The conflict between Merhaven and Kransi existed before Restap was settled. It had prior origin. Besides, mass hypnosis is more difficult than that. On a planetary scale it’s impossible. In addition, there are simple tests to detect it, and everyone knows what those tests are, including Merhavians and Kransians.”

  The machine was right of course. History proved that Restap couldn’t have caused the basic conflict. Still, he had to start with something. “Telepathy?” he suggested.

  “What does that hypothesis add? The human race may he evolving in that direction, but so far not one individual is capable of it.”

  It was true; hypothesis didn’t explain much. If either Kransian or Merhavian were telepathic, the friction should decrease between the two—unless telepathy had other laws, and no one could be sure it didn’t. But what if Restapans were telepathic? It might make them wonderful businessmen, and of course that was plausible because they were. The whole planet bristled with new buildings and everyone looked contented and well fed. But prosperity was no crime; plenty of planets were prosperous without telepathy. Earth, for one.

  So telepathy and hypnosis were out. But he had to find the forces involved. Restap was the best starting point, and it was up to him to figure out how to start.

  He got up and went to the machine.

  “Don’t you want to hear the other fact?” asked the Electronic Advisor.

  He had forgotten about it. The machine had said there were two pertinent facts in the records of his father’s conversation. The other fact might help. “What is it?” he asked.

  The Advisor was hesitant. “I want to emphasize this was merely his opinion. I have no way of checking whether it was actually true. Nevertheless there are at least fifty references to it.”

  “Let’s hear it,” said Jason.

  “Your father was convinced he killed your mother.”

  “Nonsense,” said Jason harshly, remembering his father and the multitude of doctors. “She was never well after I was born, but he was wealthy, and she got the best medical care in the galaxy.”

  And so she had. The great specialists of dozens a of planets attended her and hadn’t found a thing wrong. But she had died—very young.

  Jason remembered a time; he was only a child. His father had come home, one of his rare appearances on Earth. Jason was certain they loved each other, but they were seldom together.

  Jason turned off the machine.

  * * * *

  He reviewed the problem for an entire day and at the end of that time reached certain conclusions. Any solution was far off, but he thought he knew a route through which to arrive at one.

  Restap. How much Restapans knew was problematical, but they had to notice that they were unique with respect to their contacts with both Kransi and Merhaven. How much theorizing they did about it was unknown. Perhaps they attributed their success merely to superior ability and let it go at that.

  He could call in the experts, but where would they start? There was enough material for all: semanticist, psychiatrist, legal expert, culturologist, and a detective or so. Give them enough funds and they would come up with an answer in a year or so—if it didn’t take twenty.

  He took standard precautions, and a few that were not standard, too. He checked the set—the hypno-cartridge was in place and showed a few thousand hours left. As a safety measure, he replaced it with a fresh unit. All antihypnotic devices were supposed to be tamper-proof, hut he trusted only those he had brought with him. He let the set warm up until the light blinked on the fresh cartridge. Once he knew he was safe, he dialed Airsta.

  “I’m going to call off the negotiations for today,” he said watching her face. Apparently he didn’t overdo it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I think I understand.”

  “Burial customs of any kind I’m not fond of. Besides, I don’t think I should go near Merhaven.” The screen flickered and her face wavered. He frowned; he didn’t welcome interruptions.

  She noticed his expression. “There’s an illegal transmitter in the area,” she said. “We’re tracking it down, and it will be off the air soon. We can continue this discussion later if you’d rather.”

  He shrugged. “It happens on the best regulated planet.” His manner, he hoped, was appropriately grave. “In fact, I want to call off negotiations altogether. Right now I’m at a disadvantage. In a few months I’ll be better able to take care of my end.”

  It worked. She was careful not to let her disappointment show. “Why not go to a rest planet?” she suggested. “One of ours is nearby, in a neighboring system. It’s reserved for our high officials, but I can get you in.”

  He pretended to think about it. “If it isn’t too much trouble—”

  “Not at all,” she said. “Someone from Intrade will have to go with you, but that’s no problem. I can get away.”

  That was more than he had anticipated. Someone would have to go with him. He expected that, but he hadn’t planned that it would be Airsta. He wished it weren’t.

  Not that it made any real difference, anyone from Intrade would do. And the higher that person was, the more information he would be able to get. But it made the situation awkward.

  Again she read his expression. “You’re not an antifeminist, are you?” she said, sounding faintly amused. “I thought that on Earth women were accepted as equal in every sphere of behavior.”

  Before he could answer, the screen whitened in a manner frighteningly reminiscent of the attack on his ship near Merhaven. When he opened his eyes Airsta wasn’t on the screen, but Carlos was.

  Her face was streaked and her hair tousled. “They won’t let me up to see you. I’ve tried, but they turn me back.”

  “Who won’t let you?” He had no privacy from the Kransians. They ran in and out of his life like children, and he didn’t approve.

  “Restapan police,” she said dazedly. “There’s a guard around the hotel and I can’t get through.”

  “I’m very busy,” he said. “Do you have anything in particular that you want to talk about?”

  “It’s about the picnic,” she said.

  “A very unfortunate affair,” he said. “I’d like to forget it as soon as I can.” He looked at her with some concern. “Of course if you feel it will do you any good, go ahead and talk about it.”

  “I can’t, not over this,” she said, and covered her face with her hands.

  She was plainly upset, shock no doubt. But he didn’t have time to soothe her back to sanity. In time she’d recover by herself.

  “I’m leaving soon,” he said. “But I’ll be back and I’ll see you then.”

  She stared at him blankly as the screen faded.

  Her face was replaced by another, equally familiar. “That’s the illegal transmitter,” said Airsta calmly. “The police have found it, and she won’t bother you—unless you want her to.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I thought so. That’s why I put the guard around the hotel in the first place. Just say the word and I’ll have
it taken away.”

  He didn’t say it. Carlos wouldn’t be happy, but for the time he would have to work alone. And the results he expected were more important than Carlos’ injured feelings.

  “Don’t worry about her,” said Airsta. “We never press such minor charges against Kransians. That’s the penalty we pay to keep on good terms with them.”

  Understandable. That was good business policy. But he wondered whether he was backing the wrong people. In a way he was more like Restapans than those who figured in his ancestry. Restapans were sensible and mature.

  He concluded the arrangements with Airsta and, after she had hung up, he relaxed to think. It would take three or four days to get to the rest planet. He would have to use drugs while she was sleeping. Fast-acting drugs that would take two or three hours out of her life that she wouldn’t remember. During that time he could get information about Kransi and Merhaven. By the time they reached the rest planet all trace of the drugs would be gone. It would require an exceptional examination to reveal what had happened, and then only if they had machines of the quality made on Earth. There weren’t many, and Restap probably didn’t have them.

  He was sorry it had to be Airsta, but there was nothing he could do about it. He liked her, so he comforted himself that the information she undoubtedly had meant nothing to her—or Restap—though through habit they wouldn’t want to share it.

  A scientist could make something out of it, could begin to unravel the problems of Kransi and Merhaven, and it was up to him to see that scientists had that opportunity.

  Before he fell asleep, he thought about Carlos. He wished he had time to see her.

  * * * *

  The ship slid along in the grayness of between-space. Jason frowned; a battered hulk was overtaking him from behind. And it shouldn’t; he had a good ship, not as fast as the best military, but the equal of any commercial ship built.

  He opened the last notch of power and that made a little difference but the difference didn’t favor him enough. The ship came up even faster. Then, as if sensing Jason’s ship had reached its limit, the decrepit Kransian vessel closed the gap with startling speed.