“It had better be good,” Alexander said grimly. “I've been looking for you for ten years. I intend to throw the book at you."
“I don't know whether my reason is good or not. Technically I'm guilty of breach of contract and larceny of corporation property, but there are extenuating circumstances."
Alexander chuckled mirthlessly. “There are a few other charges. And quite probably I can think of more if you beat these. I'm going to make an example of you, Kennon. I'm going to drag you down and stamp on you. You're going to be a horrible example to all smart operators who think they can break contracts. It's taken a million credits and ten years’ time to hunt you down, but it's going to be worth it."
“Copper's child is a boy,” Kennon said mildly. “My son."
Alexander froze. “You can prove that?” he asked in a half-strangled voice.
Kennon nodded. “You see the extenuating circumstance?” he asked. “Suppression of human slavery!"
Alexander sat down. It was as though some unseen hand had pulled his legs from under him. “You believe it,” he said. “—No—you've proved it! Why—why didn't you tell me? What sort of a man do you think I am?"
“I didn't know. I couldn't take the chance until Copper was protected. You see, sir, I love her."
“That isn't hard to do with Lani,” Alexander said. He sank back in his chair, his face clouded, his expression troubled. It was obvious that the realization shocked him.
Kennon felt an odd sympathy for the entrepreneur. It wasn't a nice feeling, he suspected, to have the beliefs of a lifetime ripped apart and sent to the disposal chute.
“So the Lani are a human variant,” Alexander said dully.
“The proof is here,” Kennon said, “and the supporting evidence is conclusive."
“Which makes me—what? A murderer? A slaver? A tyrant?” Alexander clutched his head with lean-fingered hands. “What am I?"
“An innocent victim of circumstances,” Kennon said. “You didn't know. None of us knew. And we still wouldn't know if the Lani weren't of Betan extraction.” He grimaced painfully. “I've done some soul-searching myself, and it hasn't been a pleasant task."
“But it's nothing like mine,” Alexander said in a low voice. “I suspected they were human when I was younger, but I denied my suspicions and accepted false facts instead of investigating."
“You would have found nothing."
“Unfortunately, that's not true. We discovered quite a bit from the experimental station you left us when you disappeared ten years ago. But we stopped when we found the age that was being indoctrinated with Lani tabus. We could have gone farther, but I didn't think it was necessary."
“Didn't Douglas tell you?” Kennon asked curiously. “I told him when I turned him loose."
“Douglas didn't tell anything except that you had somehow gotten a spaceship. I assumed it was one of those that were involved in that commercial raid a few decades ago, but I see it wasn't. No—I knew nothing about this development. And Douglas, I guess, wanted to keep it hidden. He gave your co-ordinates and ordered Mullins to launch a missile. But he apparently forgot to turn on his IFF. At any rate the missile lost you—but found Douglas. Douglas was still talking to Alexandria when it struck."
“He might have informed you,” Kennon said. “If he had more time."
“I doubt it. He ordered the missile first. He was trying to destroy you before you could destroy Outworld Enterprises.
His motives were selfish as usual.” Alexander looked at Kennon with a haggard eye. “I owe you an apology,” he said. “I've considered you responsible for Douglas's death for ten years. I've searched for you on a hundred worlds. My agents in every branch office have had standing orders to report any unusual arrivals. I have hunted you personally. I wanted to break you—I wanted to kill you."
“I couldn't help the delay,” Kennon said. “The ship was old."
“I know. You've told me more than you think. I'm a telepath, you know."
“I've never forgotten it,” Kennon said. “That was one of the principal reasons I came here. I wanted to see how you'd react when you learned the whole truth."
“And I suppose you gloat—no—you're not doing that. But you are right. I could have checked it further. But I didn't. Outworld Enterprises is far bigger than Flora—and I was busy. Galactic trade is a snake-pit. And, after all, there was Douglas's death—and the Family with their never-ending clamor for money and their threats when it didn't come promptly. I like being an entrepreneur, but until I made Outworld independent of Family control, I couldn't do anything except run the business to their wishes. Actually the island was only a small part of the corporation. I tried to run it as humanely as possible under the circumstances.” He shuddered. “I don't think I was ever needlessly cruel."
“No,” Kennon said, “you were indifferent."
“Which is just as bad,” Alexander said.
“Well—what are you going to do about it?” Copper interjected. “You can beat yourself until you're blue, but that won't accomplish anything."
“What are you going to do?” Alexander countered. “You have the upper hand."
“Me?” Copper asked. “I have nothing. This is between you men.” She lapsed into silence.
Alexander turned back to Kennon. “You have undoubtedly made some arrangements. You wouldn't come here—oh! I see. Congratulations. Handling the evidence that way was a wise course. You have my admiration. But then I should have known that I was not dealing with a fool.” He smiled wryly. “Subconsciously I think I did know—but—"
“That's one consolation,” Kennon grinned. “To be thought a rascal is bad enough, but to be considered a fool is intolerable."
“But your decision not to use the evidence unless you were forced to—that's poor business."
“But good morals,” Kennon said. “Neither the Brotherhood nor I could settle this affair. It is a matter only you can handle. There is no sense in killing Outworld or throwing Kardon into centuries of litigation. The Lani never were numerous enough to lay claim to an entire world. I'll admit the club is there, but I'll never use it unless it's necessary."
“Why not?—it's sound business practice."
“I'm a professional—not a businessman. And besides, I haven't the moral right to return evil for good. You have not been a bad boss."
“Thanks,” Alexander said glumly. “I've always considered myself civilized."
“I wouldn't go so far as to say that,” Kennon said. “Honorable, yes—civilized, no. But none of us are really civilized."
“So?"
“We haven't changed much, despite our development. Perhaps we've varied a little physically—and we've learned to use new tools, but our minds are still the minds of barbarians—blood brothers against the enemy, and everything not of us is enemy. Savages—hiding under a thin veneer of superficial culture. Savages with spaceships and the atom.” Kennon looked down at Copper. Apparently her thoughts were miles away in an introspective world that was all her own. She had said her piece and having done that was content to let the two men develop it. Kennon looked at her with odd respect. Alexander eyed her with a mildly startled expression on his lean face. And both men smiled, but the smiles were not amused.
“Judging from Copper,” Alexander said, “I don't think we'll have to worry about how the Lani will turn out.” He looked at Kennon with mild sympathy. “You are going to have quite a time with her,” he said.
“I suppose so. I'll probably never know whether I'm guided or whether I'm doing the guiding. I've changed a lot of my opinions about Copper since the day I met her."
Copper looked up and smiled at them. It was an odd smile, hinting at secrets neither of them would ever know. Alexander chuckled. “It serves you right.” He crossed his legs and looked up at Kennon standing before him. By some uncanny legerdemain he had gotten control of himself and the situation at the same time. Being telepathic was an unfair advantage, Kennon thought.
“You wer
e equally unfair with your accusation,” Alexander said. “Sure—humanity makes mistakes, and like this one they're sometimes brutal mistakes. But we are capable of atonement. Morally we have come a long way from the brutality of the Interregnum. I shouldn't have to use examples, but look at that"—he waved at the view wall at the panorama of gleaming fairy towers and greenery that made Beta City one of the most beautiful in the Brotherhood. “Don't tell me that five thousand years of peace and development haven't produced civilization. That's a concrete example out there."
“It isn't,” Kennon said flatly. “Sure, it's pretty—clean—and beautifully designed for art and utility—but it isn't civilization. You're confusing technology with culture. You look at this and say, ‘What a great civilization man has built,’ when you really mean, ‘What a great technology mankind has developed.’ There's all the difference in the world. Technology is of the mind and hands. Civilization is of the spirit—and spiritually we are still in the Dark Ages.
“We conquer, kill, loot, and enslave. We establish standards to keep humanity a closed corporation, a special club in which men can live but aliens can't. We've made the standards for admission so rigid that we even enslave our own kind and call them animals. That's not civilization—that's savagery!
“For nearly five hundred years your family has run a slave pen. Your fortune is based upon it. And you have perpetuated this traffic in flesh on the specious reasoning that a court judgment of half a millennium ago is as good today as when it was handed down. Never once did anyone have the moral courage to re-examine that old decision. Never once did any human question the rightness of that decision. None of us are immune. We all based our conduct upon an antiquated law and searched no further. Everyone was happy with the status quo—or at least not so unhappy that they wanted to change it. Even I would have been content had it not been for Copper."
“Yet I do not feel that it was bad that I hired you,” Alexander said. “Even though you have shown me that I am a slaver, and made me see faults I never knew I had.” His face was drawn—harsh lines reached from nose to lips, from eyes to chin. Suddenly he looked old. “I can accept censure if censure is just. And this is just. No—I'm not sorry I hired you even though the thought of what I have helped do to the Lani makes me sick to my stomach."
“Well—” Kennon said. “What are you going to do about it?"
“I don't know,” Alexander said. “At the first smell of trouble, the Family will turn tail and run. You can break the company, and I won't stand in your way. It's only just. You're the one who's carrying the ball. Now run with it."
“That damned blind spot,” Kennon said. “You realize, of course, that you're not legally liable. It was a mistake. All you have to do is admit the error and start from there. Naturally—no reasonable intelligence would expect that you change the older Lani. They're too old for either agerone or change. It would be both cruel and inhuman to turn them loose. It's with the youngsters that you can work—those who are physically and physiologically young enough to derive benefit from agerone and education.
“As I remember, you bought a planet called Phoebe. Now why don't you—"
“Phase out! Of course! But that means that you can't press charges."
“Why should I? I'm not one of these starry-eyed reformers who expect to change things overnight. It's the future of the Lani race that's important, And Brainard agrees with me. A phase-out is the proper solution. Change the education, let males be born—teach the young to think instead of to obey. Give them Phoebe for a home—they never owned all of Kardon anyway. And within a century or two we will have a new group of the human race—and then we can tell the Brotherhood."
Kennon looked inquiringly at Copper. She smiled and nodded. “It would cause less trouble that way,” she said. “It would be more sure—and there are never too many old ones."
Kennon shuddered, thinking of the euthanasia chambers on Otpen One. “There will be more from now on,” he said.
“Outworld can afford it. It'll bend us a little but we won't break—and besides, the Lani will need our help for some time to come.” Alexander looked at Kennon. “Can we make an agreement that all parties will respect?” he asked.
“I think so—providing there are no sleeper clauses in it,” Kennon said.
“There won't be,” Alexander said.
And there weren't.
* * * *
It was a private ceremony. The Family, sulky and unwilling, faced with a choice of drastically reduced income or outright confiscation and preferring a portion of a loaf to none. Alexander—grim but oddly peaceful of expression. Brainard—pink-cheeked and emotionless. Kennon and Copper—happily conscious that it was at last finished. It was an oddly assorted group of conspirators who planned to restore a segment of humanity to the human race.
Kennon signed last, and as he did, Alexander looked at him with a sly grin distorting the smooth pallor of his face.
“You forgot something,” he said.
“What?” Kennon said—aware suddenly that something was wrong.
“What do you plan to do, now that this is over?"
“Join the Medical Center here and practice veterinary medicine."
“You wouldn't care to work for me—to help rebuild the wreckage you've helped create? I'll need a manager on Kardon to phase out the island while we phase in Phoebe."
“No, thank you. I've had enough of that."
“You just think you have,” Alexander said gleefully. “That's what you have forgotten. You've gotten your agreement—now you will satisfy me. As I see it you have breached your contract by leaving Flora without authorization."
“That is right,” Kennon said. A small lump of lead began to grow rapidly larger in his stomach. Brainard was grinning and Copper's eyes were shining. “You've been jobbed!” his mind told him. He sighed. He knew what was coming next.
“The punitive clause for breach of contract,” Alexander went on inexorably, “is very broad. Discretion is vested in the entrepreneur. I can obtain judgment against you in any court on any planet."
“I know,” Kennon said glumly.
“But I am going to be civilized,” Alexander said. “I am going to be merciful. I am going to extend your contract until phase-out has been completed. You are going to have control of the entire Kardon phase of the operation. It's poetic justice—you made the mess—now you can clean it up."
“That's inhuman!"
“Humanity has nothing to do with it. It's justice,” Alexander said. He smiled at Copper's radiant face. The thought of going home was good to her. “Good luck on your new job, Dr. Kennon,” he said. “And welcome to the brotherhood of the ulcer."
* * *
OPERATION TERROR
MURRAY LEINSTER
* * *
CHAPTER 1
On the morning the radar reported something odd out in space, Lockley awoke at about twenty minutes to eight. That was usual. He'd slept in a sleeping bag on a mountain-flank with other mountains all around. That was not unprecedented. He was there to make a base line measurement for a detailed map of the Boulder Lake National Park, whose facilities were now being built. Measuring a base line, even with the newest of electronic apparatus, was more or less a commonplace job for Lockley.
This morning, though, he woke and realized gloomily that he'd dreamed about Jill Holmes again, which was becoming a habit he ought to break. He'd only met her four times and she was going to marry somebody else. He had to stop.
He stirred, preparatory to getting up. At the same moment, certain things were happening in places far away from him. As yet, no unusual object in space had been observed. That would come later. But far away up at the Alaskan radar complex a man on duty watch was relieved by another. The relief man took over the monitoring of the giant, football-field-sized radar antenna that recorded its detections on magnetic tape. It happened that on this particular morning only one other radar watched the skies along a long stretch of the Pacific Coast There was th
e Alaskan installation, and the other was in Oregon. It was extremely unusual for only those two to be operating. The people who knew about it, or most of them, thought that official orders had somehow gone astray. Where the orders were issued, nothing out of the ordinary appeared. All was normal, for example, in the Military Information Center in Denver. The Survey saw nothing unusual in Lockley's being at his post, and other men at places corresponding to his in the area which was to become Boulder Lake National Park. It also seemed perfectly natural that there should be bulldozer operators, surveyors, steelworkers, concrete men and so on, all comfortably at breakfast in the construction camp for the project. Everything seemed normal everywhere.
Up to the time the Alaskan installation reported something strange in space, the state of things generally was neither alarming nor consoling. But at 8:02 A.M. Pacific time, the situation changed. At that time Alaska reported an unscheduled celestial object of considerable size, high out of atmosphere and moving with surprising slowness for a body in space. Its course was parabolic and it would probably land somewhere in South Dakota. It might be a bolide-a large, slow-moving meteorite. It wasn't likely, but the entire report was improbable.
The message reached the Military Information Center in Denver at 8:05 A.M. By 8:06 it had been relayed to Washington and every plane on the Pacific Coast was ordered aloft. The Oregon radar unit reported the same object at 8:07 A.M. It said the object was seven hundred fifty miles high, four hundred miles out at sea, and was headed toward the Oregon coastline, moving northwest to southeast. There was no major city in its line of travel. The impact point computed by the Oregon station was nowhere near South Dakota. As other computations followed other observations, a second place of fall was calculated, then a third. Then the Oregon radar unbelievably reported that the object was decelerating. Allowing for deceleration, three successive predictions of its landing point agreed. The object, said these calculations, would come to earth somewhere near Boulder Lake, Colorado, in what was to become a national park. Impact time should be approximately 8:14 A.M.
Three Classic SF Novels: Plague Ship; Operation Terror; The Lani People Page 37