The Mack Reynolds Megapack

by Mack Reynolds

  They lacked understanding, and showed it.

  Mayer said, “Jerry, if you’ll demonstrate.”

  Jerry Kennedy said, “The bullet can be adapted to various weapons, however, this is one of the simplest.” He pressed, one after another, a full twenty rounds into the gun’s clip.

  “Now, if you’ll note the silhouette of a man I’ve drawn on the wooden frame at the end of the room.” He pressed the trigger, sent a single shot into the figure.

  Olderman nodded. “An improvement in firearms. But—”

  Kennedy said, “However, if you are confronted with more than one of the bad guys.” He grinned and flicked the gun to full automatic and in a Götterdämmerung of sound in the confines of the room, emptied the clip into his target sending splinters and chips flying and all but demolishing the wooden backdrop.

  His audience sat back in stunned horror at the demonstration.

  Mayer said now, “The weapon is simple to construct, any competent gunsmith can do it. It is manifest, Honorables, that with your people so equipped your cities will be safe from attack and so will trading caravans and ships.”

  Russ said shakily, “Your intention is good, Honorable Mayer, however it will be but a matter of time before the barons have solved the secrets of your weapon. Such cannot be held indefinitely. Then we would again be at their mercy.”

  “Believe me, Honorable,” Mayer said dryly, “by that time I will have new weapons to introduce, if necessary. Weapons that make this one a very toy in comparison.”

  Olderman resumed his office as spokesman. “This demonstration has astounded us, Honorable Mayer, but although we admire your abilities it need hardly be pointed out that it seems unlikely all this could be the product of one brain.”

  “They are not mine,” Mayer admitted. “They are the products of many minds.”

  “But where—?”

  The Earthman shook his head. “I don’t believe I will tell you now.”

  “I see.” The Genoese eyed him emotionlessly. “Then the question becomes, why?”

  Mayer said, “It may be difficult for you to see, but the introduction of each of these will be a nail in feudalism’s coffin. Each will increase either production or trade and such increase will lead to the overthrow of feudal society.”

  Baron Leonar, who had remained largely silent throughout the afternoon, now spoke up. “As you said earlier, although I am a lord myself, my interests are your own. I am a merchant first. However, I am not sure I want the changes these devices will bring. Frankly, Honorable Mayer, I am satisfied with my world as I find it today.”

  Amschel Mayer smiled wryly at him. “I am afraid you must adapt to these new developments.”

  The baron said coldly, “Why? I do not like to be told I must do something.”

  “Because, my dear baron, there are three continents on the planet of Genoa. At present there is little trade due to inadequate shipping. But the steam engine I introduce today will soon propel larger craft than you have ever built before.”

  Russ said, “What has this to do with our being forced to use these devices?”

  “Because I have colleagues on the other continents busily introducing them. If you don’t adapt, in time competitors will invade your markets, capture your trade, drive you out of business.”

  Mayer wrapped it up. “Honorables, modernize or go under. It’s each man for himself and the devil take the hindmost, if you’ll allow a saying from another era.”

  They remained silent for a long period. Finally Olderman stated bluntly, “The barons are not going to like this.”

  Jerry Kennedy grinned. “Obviously, that’s why we’ve introduced you to the tommy gun. It’s not going to make any difference if they like it or not.”

  Russ said musingly, “Pressure will be put to prevent the introduction of this equipment.”

  “We’ll meet it,” Mayer said, shifting happily in his seat.

  Russ added, “The Temple is ever on the side of the barons. The monks will fight against innovations that threaten to disturb the present way.”

  Mayer said, “Monks usually do. How much property is in the hands of the Temple?”

  Russ admitted sourly, “The monks are the greatest landlords of all. I would say at least one third of the land and the serfs belong to the Temple.”

  “Ah,” Mayer said. “We must investigate the possibilities of a Reformation. But that can come later. Now I wish to expand on my reason for gathering you.

  “Honorables, Genoa is to change rapidly. To survive, you will have to move fast. I have not introduced these revolutionary changes without self-interest. Each of you are free to use them to his profit, however, I expect a thirty per cent interest.”

  There was a universal gasp.

  Olderman said, “Honorable Mayer, you have already demonstrated your devices. What is there to prevent us from playing you false?”

  Mayer laughed. “My dear Olderman, I have other inventions to reveal as rapidly as you develop the technicians, the workers, capable of building and operating them. If you cheat me now, you will be passed by next time.”

  Russ muttered, “Thirty per cent! Your wealth will be unbelievable.”

  “As fast as it accumulates, Honorables, it shall be invested. For instance, I have great interest in expanding our inadequate universities. The advances I expect will only be possible if we educate the people. Field serfs are not capable of running even that simple steam engine Jerry demonstrated.”

  Baron Leonar said, “What you contemplate is mind-shaking. Do I understand that you wish a confederation of all our cities? A joining together to combat the strength of the present lords?”

  Mayer was shaking his head. “No, no. As the barons lose power, each of your cities will strengthen and possibly expand to become nations. Perhaps some will unite. But largely you will compete against each other and against the nations of the other continents. In such competition you’ll have to show your mettle, or go under. Man develops at his fastest when pushed by such circumstance.”

  The Earthling looked off, unseeing, into a far corner of the room. “At least, so is my contention. Far away from here a colleague is trying to prove me wrong. We shall see.”

  V.

  Leonid Plekhanov returned to the Pedagogue with a certain ceremony. He was accompanied by Joe Chessman, Natt Roberts and Barry Watson of his original group, but four young, hard-eyed, hard-faced and armed Tulans were also in the party. Their space lighter swooped in, nestled to the Pedagogue’s hull in the original bed it had occupied on the trip from Terra City, and her port opened to the corridors of the mother ship.

  Plekhanov, flanked by Chessman and Watson, strode heavily toward the ship’s lounge. Natt Roberts and two of the Tulans remained with the small boat. Two of the other natives followed, their eyes darting here, there, in amazement, in spite of their efforts to appear grim and untouched by it all.

  Amschel Mayer was already seated at the officer’s dining table. His face displayed his irritation at the other’s method of presenting himself. “Good Heavens, Plekhanov, what is this, an invasion?”

  The other registered surprise.

  Mayer indicated the Texcocans. “Do you think it necessary to bring armed men aboard the Pedagogue? Frankly, I have not even revealed to a single Genoese the existence of the ship.”

  Jerry Kennedy was seated to one side, the only member of Mayer’s team who had accompanied him for this meeting. Kennedy winked at Watson and Chessman. Watson grinned back but held his peace.

  Plekhanov sank into a chair, rumbling, “We hold no secrets from the Texcocans. The sooner they advance to where they can use our libraries and laboratories, the better. And the fact these boys are armed has no significance. My Tulans are currently embarked on a campaign to unite the planet. Arms are sometimes necessary, and Tula, my capital, is somewhat of an armed camp. All able-bodied men—”

  Mayer broke in heatedly, “And is this the method you use to bring civilization to Texcoco? Is this what you
consider the purpose of the Office of Galactic Colonization? An armed camp! How many persons have you slaughtered thus far?”

  “Easy,” Joe Chessman growled.

  Amschel Mayer spun on him. “I need no instruction from you, Chessman. Please remember I’m senior in charge of this expedition and as such rank you.”

  Plekhanov thudded a heavy hand on the table. “I’ll call my assistants to order, Mayer, if I feel it necessary. Admittedly, when this expedition left Terra City you were the ranking officer. Now, however, we’ve divided—at your suggestion, please remember. Now there are two independent groups and you no longer have jurisdiction over mine.”

  “Indeed!” Mayer barked. “And suppose I decide to withhold the use of the Pedagogue’s libraries and laboratories to you? I tell you, Plekhanov—”

  Leonid Plekhanov interrupted him coldly. “I would not suggest you attempt any such step, Mayer.”

  Mayer glared but suddenly reversed himself. “Let’s settle down and become more sensible. This is the first conference of the five we have scheduled. Ten years have elapsed. Actually, of course, we’ve had some idea of each other’s progress since team members occasionally meet on trips back here to the Pedagogue to consult the library. I am afraid, my dear Leonid, that your theories on industrialization are rapidly being proven inaccurate.”

  “Nonsense!”

  Mayer said smoothly, “In the decade past, my team’s efforts have more than tripled the Genoese industrial potential. Last week one of our steamships crossed the second ocean. We’ve located petroleum and the first wells are going down. We’ve introduced a dozen crops that had disappeared through misadventure to the original colonists. And, oh yes, our first railroad is scheduled to begin running between Bari and Ronda next spring. There are six new universities and in the next decade I expect fifty more.”

  “Very good, indeed,” Plekhanov grumbled.

  “Only a beginning. The breath of competition, of unharnessed enterprise is sweeping Genoa. Feudalism crumbles. Customs, mores and traditions that have held up progress for a century or more are now on their way out.”

  Joe Chessman growled, “Some of the boys tell me you’ve had a few difficulties with this crumbling feudalism thing. In fact, didn’t Buchwald barely escape with his life when the barons on your western continent united to suppress all chartered cities?”

  Mayer’s thin face darkened. “Never fear, my dear Joseph, those barons responsible for shedding the blood of western hemisphere elements of progress will shortly pay for their crimes.”

  “You’ve got military problems too, then?” Barry Watson asked.

  Mayer’s eyes went to him in irritation. “Some of the free cities of Genoa are planning measures to regain their property and rights on the western hemisphere. This has nothing to do with my team, except, of course, in so far as they might sell them supplies or equipment.”

  The lanky Watson laughed lowly, “You mean like selling them a few quick-firing breech-loaders and trench mortars?”

  Plekhanov muttered, “That’ll be enough, Barry.”

  But Mayer’s eyes had widened. “How did you know?” He whirled on Plekhanov. “You’re spying on my efforts, trying to negate my work!”

  Plekhanov rumbled, “Don’t be a fool, Mayer. My team has neither the time nor interest to spy on you.”

  “Then how did you know—”

  Barry Watson said mildly, “I was doing some investigation in the ship’s library. I ran into evidence that you people had already used the blueprints for breech-loaders and mortars.”

  Jerry Kennedy came to his feet and rambled over to the messroom’s bar. “This seems to be all out spat, rather than a conference to compare progress,” he said. “Anybody for a drink? Frankly, that’s the next thing I’m going to introduce to Genoa, some halfway decent likker. Do you know what those benighted heathens drink now?”

  Watson grinned. “Make mine whisky, Jerry. You’ve no complaints. Our benighted heathens have a national beverage fermented from a plant similar to cactus. Ought to be drummed out of the human race.”

  He spoke idly, forgetful of the Tulan guards stationed at the doorway.

  * * * *

  Kennedy passed drinks around for everyone save Mayer, who shook his head in distaste. If only for a brief spell, some of the tenseness left the air while the men from Earth sipped their beverages.

  Jerry Kennedy said, “Well, you’ve heard our report. How go things on Texcoco?”

  “According to plan,” Plekhanov rumbled.

  Mayer snorted.

  Plekhanov said ungraciously, “Our prime effort is now the uniting of the total population into one strong whole, a super-state capable of accomplishing the goals set us by the Co-ordinator.”

  Mayer sneered, “Undoubtedly, this goal of yours, this super-state, is being established by force.”

  “Not always,” Joe Chessman said. “Quite a few of the tribes join up on their own. Why not? The State has a lot to offer.”

  “Such as what?” Kennedy said mildly.

  Chessman looked at him in irritation. “Such as advanced medicine, security from famine, military protection from more powerful nations. The opportunity for youth to get an education and find advancement in the State’s government—if they’ve got it on the ball.”

  “And what happens if they don’t have it on the ball?”

  Chessman growled, “What happens to such under any society? They get the dirty-end-of-the-stick jobs.” His eyes went from Kennedy to Mayer. “Are you suggesting you offer anything better?”

  Mayer said, “Already on most of Genoa it is a matter of free competition. The person with ability is able to profit from it.”

  Joe Chessman grunted sour amusement. “Of course, it doesn’t help to be the son of a wealthy merchant or a big politician.”

  Plekhanov took over. “In any society the natural leaders come to the top in much the same manner as the big ones come to the top in a bin of potatoes, they just work their way up.”

  Jerry Kennedy finished his drink and said easily, “At least, those at the top can claim they’re the biggest potatoes. Remember back in the twentieth century when Hitler and his gang announced they were the big potatoes in Germany and men of Einstein’s stature fled the country—being small potatoes, I suppose.”

  Amschel Mayer said, “We’re getting away from the point. Pray go on, my dear Leonid. You say you are forcibly uniting all Texcoco.”

  “We are uniting all Texcoco,” Plekhanov corrected with a scowl. “Not always by force. And that is by no means our only effort. We are ferreting out the most intelligent of the assimilated peoples and educating them as rapidly as possible. We’ve introduced iron …”

  “And use it chiefly for weapons,” Kennedy murmured.

  “… Antibiotics and other medicines, a field agriculture, are rapidly building roads …”

  “Military roads,” Kennedy mused.

  “… To all sections of the State, have made a beginning in naval science, and, of course, haven’t ignored the arts.”

  “On the face of it,” Mayer nodded, “hardly approaching Genoa.”

  Plekhanov rumbled indignantly, “We started two ethnic periods behind you. Even the Tulans were still using bronze, but the Genoese had iron and even gunpowder. Our advance is a bit slow to get moving, Mayer, but when it begins to roll—”

  Mayer gave his characteristic snort. “A free people need never worry about being passed by a subjected one.”

  Barry Watson made himself another drink and while doing so looked over his shoulder at Amschel Mayer. “It’s interesting the way you throw about that term free. Just what type of government do you sponsor?”

  Mayer snapped, “Our team does not interfere in governmental forms, Watson. The various nations are free to adapt to whatever local conditions obtain. They range from some under feudalistic domination to countries with varying degrees of republican democracy. Our base of operations in the southern hemisphere is probably the most advanced o
f all the chartered cities, Barry. It amounts to a city-state somewhat similar to Florence during the Renaissance.”

  “And your team finds itself in the position of the Medici, I imagine.”

  “You might use that analogy. The Medici might have been, well, tyrants of Florence, dominating her finances and trade as well as her political government, but they were benevolent tyrants.”

  “Yeah,” Watson grinned. “The thing about a benevolent tyranny, though, is that it’s up to the tyrants to decide what’s benevolent. I’m not so sure there’s a great basic difference between your governing of Genoa and ours of Texcoco.”

  “Don’t be an ass,” Mayer snapped. “We are granting the Genoese political freedoms as fast as they can assimilate them.”

  Joe Chessman growled, “But I imagine it’s surprising to find just how slowly they can assimilate. A moment ago you said they were free to form any government they wished. Now you say you feed them what you call freedom, only so fast as they can assimilate it.”

  “Obviously we encourage them along whatever path we think will most quickly develop their economies,” Mayer argued. “That’s what we’ve been sent here to do. We stimulate competition, encourage all progress, political as well as economic.”

  Plekhanov lumbered to his feet. “Amschel, obviously nothing new has been added to our respective positions by this conference. I propose we adjourn to meet again at the end of the second decade.”

  Mayer said, “I suppose it would be futile to suggest you give up this impossible totalitarian scheme of yours and reunite the expedition.”

  Plekhanov merely grunted his disgust.

  Jerry Kennedy said, “One thing. What stand have you taken on giving your planet immortality?”

  “Immortality?” Watson said. “We haven’t it to give.”

  “You know what I mean. It wouldn’t take long to extend the life span double or triple the present.”

  Amschel Mayer said, “At this stage progress is faster with the generations closer together. A man is pressed when he knows he has only twenty or thirty years of peak efficiency. We on Earth are inclined to settle back and take life as it comes; you younger men are all past the century mark, but none have bothered to get married as yet.”