Scales

by Anthony G Williams

  'You must have some industry somewhere to develop and produce your high-tech equipment?'

  'Yes, of course. But over the millennia we have gradually refined it to minimise its impact. The processes are tightly controlled to avoid any kind of pollution, and the buildings themselves usually have green roofs, planted and sometimes grazed by animals. You might not even notice one as you flew overhead, except for the transport links to the ports and major urban areas. Most of the materials we use now are recycled, so we put the recycling plants next to the industry.'

  The airship cruised over southern Italy, which looked remarkably green. I wondered about the extent of deforestation humanity had caused, then remembered a distant history lesson; it hadn't been people directly, but their goats which had stripped the vegetation from the area.

  Once across the Mediterranean, the Sahara was as dry and sandy as on the Earth I knew, but further south the land turned greener, a grassy savannah dotted with clumps of trees. I spent most of the journey on the observation deck, as did the Representative – but about as far away from me as he could get.

  I left the gun in the cabin – it was rather hard to conceal – as we descended to the transfer site. The heat was intense even though summer had not yet arrived; walking into the sunshine felt like being hit with a huge, red-hot hammer. Our skins silvered over instantly, reflecting away as much of the sun's radiation as possible.

  Due to my prodding over security, the saurians had decided to keep all of the slider machines on S1, firmly under their control. That involved some complication in their design in that a double machine was required – which the saurians named a "transfer machine" – able to generate a hole at each end of a short tube; one connecting H17 (which I was coming to think of as "Old Earth") with S1, the other connecting S1 with New Earth. The transfer was via a conveyor belt pushed through both holes. Where we were, none of the activity was visible, of course. The machine just sat there in the middle of an empty countryside, humming loudly. A small portable cabin nearby provided a base for the technician watching over it. Viewscreens near each end showed the activity on each world; on my Earth, there were piles of supplies to go through first; tents, tools, water purifiers and food. A large group of Africans sat watching patiently, awaiting their turn. Human volunteers manned each end, enthusiastically stacking and carrying. What was immediately obvious was how green the lands of H11 and S1 were compared with the dusty brown H17. A thought struck me.

  'How did they get to H11 without being knocked out by the transfer?'

  Primo checked with one of the technicians, then explained that the human healers had devised a way of making people unconscious for a short period of time. The first one sent through was a healer, and after a pause while she recovered her senses, the process of sending through the other volunteers proceeded swiftly. It had been estimated that they could handle some two hundred people an hour, allowing for the fact that about a third of the volume would be supplies. I did some mental sums; working in shifts through the night, they could transfer more than 30,000 people a week. That was impressive, and would soon begin to make a dent in the refugee problem. Some of the volunteers on New Earth had already begun to organise land distribution and were using small portable drills to access the ground water. The Representative watched all of this without comment, but from time to time I felt his cold eyes on me.

  I was about to turn away when I noticed something familiar about one of the volunteers on New Earth. I watched closely until he turned to face the viewer, then recognition hit me – it was Luke. Of course, I thought, my brother wouldn't miss an opportunity like this. I noticed that he was wearing a headnet so I worked my way through the comms system and contacted him.

  'Hi Luke, I might have guessed that you'd be here.'

  He looked around in surprise, expecting to see me.

  'I'm about ten metres and an entire dimension of existence away from you.'

  He understood and nodded. 'This is going really well. You know I had my doubts about what you were doing, but you have come up trumps this time. For the first time, I really feel that we are achieving something.'

  'Don't thank me, thank the saurians. You don't know what altruism is until you get to know these guys. They're making a major – and I mean planet-wide – effort to make this work.'

  He narrowed his eyes in concentration. 'There's something you're not telling me. What's wrong?'

  'No immediate problem, I'll let you know if anything develops.'

  He nodded doubtfully and turned back to his work. I tried to ignore the Representative's glare. As we headed back to the airship, I privately contacted Primo. 'Any word from the Convenor about what she's doing with the Representative's request?'

  'Not yet, she's still stalling. The best argument we have so far is that we have only solved the technical issues with regard to the two-metre size of the hoop within which the slider hole is generated; the solution does not scale easily. And the manufacture of the hoop is absolutely critical, it has to be made in one piece and can't be disassembled. So by definition we can't sent one through another, as they're all the same size; which means they all have to stay on our world, until we have the time to design one small enough to be pushed through. So the Representative has now asked for control of some of our machines, which would mean bringing his own men through to our world to guard and operate them. So far that has been blocked on the grounds that a transfer of populations between our worlds raises fundamental issues of principle which would need careful consideration and negotiation. He's getting impatient, though.'

  'The best solution would be to find another empty world which they could have.'

  'Don't we know it: the slider scientists are working flat out to try to locate one. So far they've rediscovered most of the lost human worlds, but they all still have significant human populations, albeit only a small fraction of what they used to be and living in rather primitive conditions. '

  'Sooner or later, we're going to have to tell the UN about your warlike relatives and their ambitions. But better make it later, if you can keep stalling. If S2 manages to get access to New Earth, humanity will insist on sending weapons for self-defence and we'll end up with a planet-wide war on our hands.'

  'Yes.' Primo's response was filled with misery. He was finding out the hard way that altruism isn't necessarily painless.

  That evening, as we cruised back over North Africa, I was contacted by the UN Secretary General, who was in a state of considerable agitation.

  'What is going on? This afternoon's session of the General Assembly has just ended in chaos!'

  'Why?'

  'We were interrupted by a message from a saurian who called himself "the representative of another saurian world". He warned us to restrict our colonisation of New Earth to central and southern Africa, because his people had laid claim to the rest of the land. He warned of dire consequences if we disobeyed. What is this, some kind of prank?'

  'No prank, sadly. Hang on, I'll get back to you in a few minutes.' I quickly contacted the Convenor and my friends and briefly explained what had happened. They were stunned and appalled.

  'The Representative had asked to be shown how to access our communications function to keep in contact with his own people. It was a reasonable request which we could not refuse. It never occurred to us that he would do anything like this.' The Convenor's mind showed her distress – and the beginnings of anger. Anger was good, I thought. I decided to emphasise the point.

  'You need to bear in mind that with the S2 Rulers, scheming and duplicity are their normal mode of operation. This will be part of a plan they have worked out to keep you on the defensive, forever reacting to events and giving ground at every stage until they've got what they want. New Earth would only be the start. I suspect that they see the existence of multiple worlds as a golden opportunity to extend the scope of their political and military games, using other planets as battlefields – including your own. I hate to disillusion you, but your invitatio
n to S2 was like a flock of chickens inviting a fox into their hen coop.' I had to send a mental image to illustrate that analogy, but they got the point. There was a long silence.

  'So what do we do?' The Convenor radiated weariness.

  'What they're trying to do in getting access to the slider machines is to get the keys, not just to your hen coop but to all of them. If they ever succeed in doing that, there'll be no stopping them; you've lost, permanently. We all have. So the top priority is to prevent any such access, or the leaking of any information about the technology involved which might allow them to develop their own. My fear is that they will use violence or the threat of it to secure such access – it would be normal practice for them. You need to be braced to take tough decisions, to follow your head not your heart.'

  'That is not what we are like.'

  'I know that – and so do they.'

  'What should we do about this message they sent to the UN?'

  'To the Representative? Nothing – ignore it. He will already have some justification prepared, and it will probably throw him off balance a bit if you pretend nothing happened. It's going to be important to seize the initiative in dealing with your aggressive cousins. But in the meantime I'd better give the Secretary General an edited version of events, stressing your control of the transfer machines. There will inevitably be demands to send troops through to defend the colonists, though. I will resist that; it is probably what the Representative wants, as it would allow him to put pressure on you to permit some of his troops through, in the interests of fair treatment and to establish and defend their claim. In any case, the history of groups of armed men wandering around Africa is not a happy one.'

  Back at Laketown, the Representative kept up the pressure by requesting a meeting with the whole Assembly. As usual, a reasonable request which the Convenor felt she could not refuse – but at my urging she fully briefed all of the Assembly members on the situation as I saw it.

  This time it was the Representative's turn to occupy the floor of the Assembly; I stood at the back with my friends. He made a carefully crafted vocal speech – his mind as closed as usual – which I followed via the usual process. He started by drawing attention to the warlike nature of humanity, referring to the demands to send armed forces to New Earth which had been made that very day at the UN. He displayed dramatic images he had unearthed from the S1 archives to demonstrate the appalling irresponsibility of humanity in consistently messing up every planet they had occupied, destroying their own civilisations in the process. Needless to say, my own world's record featured prominently, featuring views of the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He contrasted this with the stable, sustainable settlement of S2, glossing over their constant little wars. He spoke at length about the poor conditions and hard lives the manual workers of S2 suffered – conveniently ignoring the fact that this was a deliberate policy of the Rulers – and stressed their need for living space. He ended with an appeal to species solidarity: he had researched the genealogies of the two worlds carefully and had identified common ancestry between several members of their Council and the Assembly.

  In its own way it was a little masterpiece and I had to suppress my urge to give ironic applause. A thought struck me and I asked the Convenor for the right of reply. She agreed with some relief, to the not-quite-concealed irritation of the Representative. I walked down to the floor of the Assembly, the Representative moving to one side with ill grace. I slowly turned round, letting the members all see my face, and opened my mind to them. Most of them would not understand my thoughts without translation, but they could assess my sincerity.

  'Much of what the honourable Representative has told you of humanity is true. You are already aware of that, from your own observations going back over centuries. But he has told only a part of our story. You also know of our art, our literature, our music, our philosophies. You know we have struggled against our failings throughout our history, have constantly sought to build a better world. We have shared your most noble aspirations, have fought to uphold the standard of civilisation. Yes, we have all too often failed. But for the first time, we have a chance, thanks entirely to you. Your generous decision to reveal your existence, to offer your aid, is the most important event in the history of mankind. With your help, we can overcome our failings and make a fresh start. The request for armed forces to New Earth was entirely prompted by the threats the Representative made to the General Assembly. If you agree to his request, if you allow any saurian settlement, you will ultimately be condemning New Earth to be a battleground for an interspecies war. I ask you, do not agree to the transfer of any armed forces or weapons to New Earth, either human or saurian. Humanity once destroyed itself on New Earth. Now, with your help, we have a chance to redeem ourselves and to reach our full potential. This is the greatest boon that one civilised species has ever had the chance to offer another. Please, do not turn your backs on us now.'

  At the Convenor's request, the Representative and I left the Assembly to deliberate the issue in private. As we left the building, he turned towards me with a wordless hiss. I saw the ferocity in his eyes as he dropped his mental barriers and his mind hammered his hatred against mine. It was like a physical blow and I staggered under the assault until I recovered and shored up my mental defences, blocking the worst of his attack. He glared at me furiously. 'Human!' he grated in vicious disgust, then turned and hopped away. I paused to recover for a minute before making my way rather shakily back to the dwelling; fortunately, in a different part of the town from the one occupied by the Representative. Once in my room – newly fitted with a lock – I pulled the case from under the bed and took out the P.A.W.. I tipped the magazines and the ammunition onto the bed, then slowly loaded the magazines to capacity, sliding in each heavy round in turn. I pushed one of the magazines into the gun until it clicked into place, then pulled back and released the cocking handle to chamber the first round. I put on the safety catch and returned the weapon to the case.

  That evening, my three friends came back from the Assembly in a mood of quiet jubilation. 'You won!' They chorused. 'The Assembly has agreed not only to ban all military transfers to New Earth, but also to reject the Representative's request for access to a slider machine!' We celebrated with an extravagant variety of fruit and nuts – I had a wistful memory of champagne – and I sent a reassuring message to the General Secretary. We were chatting and joking together when a chilling message came from the Convenor.

  'We have just heard from our Ambassador on S2. He is being restrained, and fears for his life. If we do not do what the Rulers of S2 want, he will be killed!'

  Almost immediately, another message broke through, an agonised wail from the mother of the town's child. 'The Representative – he has taken my daughter – he is holding a knife to her throat!'

  14

  The Representative was standing by the slider machine in the centre of the arena. He held the child tucked under one arm, his other hand holding a curved blade pressed against her throat. The arena was ringed with saurians, the air roiling with powerful emotions, but they dared go no closer. It was growing dark, but a gibbous moon provided more than enough light for our night-adapted eyes. I linked with Tertia, desperate to understand what was going on. The Representative growled something full of menace and intention. A brief pause, and then I heard the translation in my mind.

  'Bring the parts you have removed from the machine and switch it on. I will then release the child and leave. Otherwise the child dies!'

  A sigh passed like a wave around the arena. I stepped forward from the crowd and spoke with my voice as well as my mind. 'He lies! He knows what will happen if he goes through the slider machine while conscious. As soon as the hole is opened, the arena will be filled with his soldiers and everyone here will become a hostage! His sole aim is to get control of the slider machine.'

  As soon as the translation reached him, the Representative hissed and pressed the knife more firmly against the child's throat.
She was wide-eyed and frozen with terror. I swung the P.A.W. up to my shoulder, looked through the sights and steadied the gleaming red dot on his face.

  'If she dies, you die. Instantly.'

  He bared his teeth and stood his ground. It was stalemate. I tried to maintain an aura of calm certainty, but my throat was dry and my pulse was hammering. I sent a private message to the Convenor.

  'What do you want me to do?'

  'We must save the child!'

  I thought for a moment then spoke to the Representative again. 'You may leave. The machine will be started. You will then release the child unharmed and pass through the hole, which will instantly be closed. If you harm the child, you will die. If you attempt to take her through the hole, you will die. If anyone comes through the hole, you will die first – then they will. Is that understood?'

  A long silence. Then a single, spat syllable. 'Yes!'

  Technicians carrying equipment hopped forwards and fiddled inside the machine. I hoped they would hurry up; my arms were beginning to ache from the weight of the heavy gun but I dared not move the aim from his face. The machine started its usual climb up through the frequencies as it warmed up. I felt myself tensing, and deliberately relaxed my trigger finger for a moment. The hole popped open. The Representative spat an untranslated word, hurled the child at the crowd and dived through the hole. A brief but satisfying flash of his agony swept across the arena before he disappeared. A technician threw a switch and the hole flicked out of existence. I released my breath in a long, shaky, sigh and lowered the P.A.W.. The parents were crouched over their daughter; a tense moment followed before their relief swept over the crowd, to be returned in great waves of emotion. The parents walked slowly away, both holding on to their child, pouring love and reassurance into her. Relief turned to joy in the arena as the realisation sank in that they had escaped two awful alternatives.