didn't differentiate much between civilian and military personnel
in terms of how their society was structured. It's more like
everybody belonged to different branches of the same big
organization."
"A sort of last word in totalitarianism?"
"Yeah, that's about it. The State ran just about everything; it
dominated every walk of life and imposed a rigid discipline
everywhere. You went where you were sent and did what you were told
to do; in most cases, that meant into industry, agriculture, or the
military forces. Whatever you did, the State was your boss anyway
..-that's what I meant when I said they were all different branches
of the same big organization."
"Okay. Now, about the pay records?"
"Charlie was born on Minerva, we know that. So were his parents.
His father was some kind of machine operator; his mother worked in
industry, too, but we can't make out the exact occupation. The
records also tell us where he went to school, for how long, where
he took his military training-everybody seemed to go through some
kind of military training-and where he learned about electronics.
It tells us all the dates, too."
"So he was something like an electronics engineer, was he?" Hunt
asked.
"Sort of. More of a maintenance engineer than a design or
development engineer. He seems to have specialized in military
equipment-there's a long list of postings to combat units. The last
one is interesting - ." Maddson selected a sheet and passed it
across to Hunt. "That's a translation of the last page of postings.
The final entry gives the name of a place and, alongside it, a
description which, when translated literally, means 'off-planet.'
That's probably the Lunarian name for whatever part of our Moon he
was sent to."
"Interesting," Hunt agreed. "You've found out quite a lot more
about him."
"Yep, we've got him pretty well taped. If you convert their dates
into our units, he was about thirty-two years old at the date of
his last posting. Anyhow, that's all really incidental; you can
read the details. I was going to run over the picture we're getting
of the kind of world he was born into." Maddson paused to con-suit
his notes again. Then he resumed: "Minerva was a dying world. At
the time we're talking about, the last cold period of the Ice Age
was approaching its peak. I'm told that ice ages are
Solar-System-wide phenomena; Minerva was a lot farther from the Sun
than here, so as you can imagine, things were pretty bleak there."
"You've only got to look at the size of those ice caps," Hunt
commented.
"Yes, exactly. And it was getting worse. The Lunarian scientists
figured they had less than a hundred years to go before the ice
sheets met and blanketed the whole planet completely. Now, as you'd
expect, they had studied astronomy for centuries-centuries before
Charlie's time, that is-and they'd known for a long time that
things were going to get worse before they got better. So, they'd
reached the conclusion, way back, that the only way out was to
escape to another world. The problem, of course, was that for
generations after they got the idea, nobody knew anything about how
to do something about it. The answer had to lie somewhere along the
line of better science and better technology. It became kind of a
racial goal-the one thing that mattered, that generation after
generation worked toward-the development of the sciences that would
get them to places they knew existed, before the ice wiped out the
whole race."
Maddson pointed to another pile of papers on the corner of his
desk. "This was the prime objective that the State was set up to
achieve, and because the stakes were so high, e~verything was
subordinated to that objective. Hence, from birth to death the
individual was subordinated to the needs of the State. It was
implied in everything they wrote and drummed into them from the
time they were knee-high. Those papers are a translation of a kind
of catechism they had to memorize at school; it reads like Nazi
stuff from the nineteen thirties." He stopped at that point and
looked at Hunt expectantly.
Hunt looked puzzled. After a moment he said, "This doesn't quite
make sense. I mean-how could they be striving to develop space
flight if they were colonists from Earth? They must have already
developed it."
Maddson gave an approving nod. "Thought you might say that."
"But. . . it's bloody silly."
"I know. It implies they must have evolved on Minerva from
scratch-unless they came from Earth, forgot everything they knew,
and had to learn it all over. But that also sounds crazy to me."
"Me, too." Hunt thought for a long time. At last he shook his head
with a sigh. "Doesn't make sense. Anyhow, what else is there?"
"Well, we've got the general picture of a totally authoritarian
State, demanding unquestioning obedience from the individual and
controlling just about everything that moves. Everything needs a
license; there are travel licenses, off-work licenses, sick-ration
licenses-even procreation licenses. Everything is in short supply
and rationed by permits-food, every kind of commodity, fuel, light,
accommodation-you name it. And to keep everybody in line, the State
operates a propaganda machine like you never dreamed of. To make
things worse, the whole planet was desperately short of every kind
of mineral. That slowed them down a lot. Despite their concentrated
effort, their rate of technological progress was probably not as
fast as you'd think. Maybe a hundred years didn't give them as long
as it sounds." Maddson turned some sheets, scanned the next one
briefly, and then went on. "To make matters worse still, they also
had a big political problem."
"Go on."
"Now, we're assuming that as their civilization developed, it
followed similar lines to ours-first tribes, then villages, towns,
nations, and so on. Seems reasonable. So, somewhere along the way
they started discovering the different sciences, same as we did. As
you'd expect, the same ideas started occurring to different people
in different places at around the same time-like, we've gotta get
outa this place. As these ideas became accepted, the Lunarians seem
to have figured also that there just weren't sufficient resources
for more than a few lucky ones to make it. No way were they going
to get a whole planet full of people out."
"So they fought about it," Hunt offered.
"That's right. The way I picture it, lots of nations grew up, all
racing each other, as well as the ice, to get the technological
edge. Every other one was a rival, so they fought it out. Another
thing that made them fight was the mineral shortage, especially the
shortage of metallic ores." Maddson pointed at a map of Minerva
mounted above the table. "See those dots on the ice sheets? Most of
them were a combination of fortress and mining town. They dug right
down thr
ough the ice to get at the deposits, and the army was there
to make sure they kept the stuff."
"And that was the way life was. Mean people, eh?"
"Yeah, for generation after generation." Maddson shrugged. "Who
knows? Maybe if we were freezing over fast, we'd be forced in the
same direction. Anyhow, the situation had complications. They had
the problem of having to divide their efforts and resources between
two different demands all the time: first, developing a technology
that would support mass interplanetary travel and, second,
armaments and the defense organization to protect it
-and there weren't a lot of resources to divide in the first place.
Now, how would you solve a problem like that?"
Hunt pondered for a while. "Cooperate?" he tried.
"Forget it. They didn't think that way."
"Only one other strategy possible, then: Wipe out the opposition
first and then concentrate everything on the main objective."
Maddson nodded solidly. "That is exactly what they did. War, or
near war, was pretty well a natural way of life all through their
history. Gradually the smaller fish were eliminated until, by the
time we get to Charlie, there are only two superpowers left, each
dominating one of the two big equatorial continental land
masses . . ." He pointed at the map again. ". . . Cerios and
Lambia. From various references, we know Charlie was a Cerian."
"All set for the big showdown, then."
"Check. The whole planet was one big fortress-factory. Every inch
of surface was covered by hostile missiles; the sky was full of
orbiting bombs that could be dropped anywhere. We get the
impression that relative to the pattern of our own civilization,
their armaments programs had taken a bigger share than space
research and had progressed faster." Maddson shrugged again. "The
rest you can guess."
Hunt nodded slowly and thoughtfully. "It all fits," he mused. "It
must have been a huge con, though. I mean, even from whichever side
won, only a handful would have been able to get away in the end; I
suppose they'd have been the ruling clique and its minions. Christ!
No wonder they needed good propaganda; they-"
Hunt stopped in midsentence and looked at Maddson with a curious
expression. "Just a minute-there's something else in all this that
doesn't add up." He paused to collect his thoughts. "They had
already developed interplanetary travel-how else did they get to
our Moon?"
"We wondered that," Maddson said. "The only thing we could think of
was that maybe they'd already figured on making for Earth
eventually-that had to be the obvious choice. Maybe they were
capable of sending a scouting group to stake the place out, but
didn't have full-scale mass-transportation capacity yet. Probably
they weren't too far away from their goal when they blew it.
Perhaps if they'd pooled their marbles at that point instead of
starting a crazy war over it, things might have been different."
"Sounds plausible," Hunt agreed. "So Charlie could have been part
of a reconnaissance mission sent on ahead, only the opposition had
the same idea and they bumped into each other. Then they started
blowing holes in our Moon. Disgraceful."
A short silence ensued.
"There's another thing I don't get, either," Hunt said, rubbing his
chin.
"What's that?"
"Well, the opposition-the Lambians. Everybody in Navcomms is going
around saying that the war that clobbered Minerva was fought
between colonists from Earth-that must be Charlie's lot, the
Cerians-and an alien race that belonged to Minerva-the Gan
ymeans, who, from what you said, would be the Lambians. We said a
moment ago that this idea of the Cerians being from Earth doesn't
make sense, because if they had originated there, they wouldn't be
trying to develop space ifight. We can't be one hundred percent
certain of that because something unusual could have happened, such
as the colony being cut off for a few thousand years for some
reason. But you can't say that about the Lambians; they couldn't
have been neck-and-neck rivals trying to develop space flight."
"They already had it, for sure," Maddson completed for him. "We
sure as hell found them on Ganymede."
"Quite. And that ship was no beginner's first attempt, either. You
know, I'm beginning to think that whoever the Lambians were, they
weren't Ganymeans."
"I think you're right," Maddson confirmed. "The Ganymeans were a
totally different biological species. Wouldn't you expect that if
they were the opposition in Lambia, somehow it would show up in the
Lunarian writings? But it doesn't. Everything we've examined
suggests that the Cerians and the Lambians were simply different
nations of the same race. For example, we've found extracts from
what appear to be Cerian newspapers, which included political
cartoons showing Lambian figures; the figures are drawn as human
forms. That wouldn't be so if the Lambians looked anything like the
Ganymeans must have looked."
"So it appears the Ganymeans had nothing to do with the war," Hunt
concluded.
"Right."
"So where do they fit in?"
Maddson showed his empty palms. "That's the funny thing. They don't
seem to fit anywhere-at least, we haven't even found anything that
looks like a reference to them."
"Maybe they're just a big red herring, then. I mean, we've only
supposed that they came from Minerva; nothing actually demonstrates
that they did. Perhaps they never had anything to do with the place
at all."
"Could well be. But I can't help feeling that. . ."
The chime on Maddson's desk display console interrupted the
discussion. He excused himself and touched a button to accept the
call.
"Hi, Don," said the face of Hunt's assistant, upstairs in Group
L's offices. "Is Vic there?" He sounded excited. Maddson swiveled
the unit around to point in Hunt's direction.
"It's for you," he said needlessly.
"Vic," said the face without preamble. "I've just had a look at the
reports of the latest tests that came in from Jupiter Four two
hours ago. That ship under the ice and the big guys inside it-
they've completed the dating tests." He drew a deep breath. "It
looks like maybe we can forget the Ganymeans in all this Charlie
business. Vic, if all the figures are right, that ship has been
sitting there for something like twenty-five million years!"
chapter fifteen
Caidwell moved a step closer to inspect more carefully the
nine-foot-high plastic model standing in the middle of one of the
laboratories of the Westwood Biological Institute. Danchekker gave
him plenty of time to take in the details before continuing.
"A full-size replica of a Ganymean skeleton," he said. "Built on
the strength of the data beamed back from Jupiter. The first
in-disputable form of intelligent alien life ever to be studied by
man." Caldwell looked up at the towering frame, pursed his lips in
a silent whistle, and walked in a slow circle around and back to
where the professor was standing. Hunt simply stood and swept his
eyes up and down the full length of the model in wordless
fascination.
"That structure is in no way related to that of any animal ever
studied on Earth, living or extinct," Danchekker informed them. He
gestured toward it. "It is based on a bony internal skeleton, walks
upright as a biped, and has a head on top-as you can see; but apart
from such superficial similarities, it has clearly evolved from
completely unfamiliar origins. Take the head as an obvious example.
The arrangement of the skull cannot be reconciled in any way with
that of known vertebrates. The face has not receded back into the
lower skull, but remains a long, down-pointing snout that widens at
the top to provide a broad spacing for the eyes and ears. Also, the
back of the skull has enlarged to accommodate a developing brain,
as in the case of man, but instead of assuming a rounded contour,
it bulges back above the neck to counterbalance the protruding face
and jaw. And look at the opening through the skull in the center of
the forehead; I believe that this could have housed a sense organ
that we do not possess-possibly an infrared detector inherited from
a nocturnal, carnivorous ancestor."
Hunt moved forward to stand next to Caidwell and peered intently at
the shoulders. "These are unlike anything I've ever come across,
too," he commented. "They're made up of . . . kind of overlapping
plates of bone. Nothing like ours at all."
"Quite," Danchekker confirmed. "Probably adapted from the
remains of ancestral armor. And the rest of the trunk is also quite
alien. There is a dorsal spine with an arrangement of ribs below
the shoulder plates, as you can see, but the lowermost
rib-immediately above the body cavity-has developed into a massive
hoop of bone with a diametral strut stretching forward from an
enlarged spinal vertebra. Now, notice the two systems of smaller
linked bones at the sides of the hoop . . ." He pointed them out.
"They were probably used to assist with breathing by helping to
expand the diaphragm. To me, they look suspiciously like the
degenerate remnants of a paired-limb structure. In other words,
although this creature, like us, had two arms and walked on two
legs, somewhere in his earlier ancestry were animals with three
Giant Series 01 - Inherit the Stars Page 15