Subway to the Stars

by Raymond F. Jones

  "Yes, but what do they pay you for these services?" Harry insisted.

  "Pay? There is no pay as such! Who could estimate the worth of this association? They supply us enough to maintain ourselves in good circumstances. What more could we ask?"

  "They give you subsistence. But do they teach you this great science of theirs? Have you obtained knowledge and products that are commercially useful?"

  "Commercial!"

  "Yes, commercial. It's a fundamental law of nature, you know. Cells operate that way, on the basis of I'll do this for you and you do this for me. When such associations become a one-way street, the organism dies. You try to operate that way, and you're already part of something that is dead."

  "Your analogy is hardly pertinent."

  "Well, then, how about something socially useful? Have they given you anything you'd call socially useful for the human race?"

  Dr. Ames's eyes brightened. "That is the great hope that keeps us going! So far we've obtained only nibbles through our own deductions about what is around us here. We know the time will come, however, if we show the human race is worthy, that the Emissary's people will teach us and lift us into a sphere that will make the present condition of man seem like that of prehistoric cave-dwellers."

  "Someday out of the goodness of their hearts they're going to invite the ignorant natives to join their exclusive brain club," Harry said disdainfully.

  "It's the best hope the human race has ever had! Could you -- now that you know what this represents -- turn your back on it and forget it?"

  Harry made an unpleasant, snorting noise. "I think you have been had. These characters come along with a sob story and wangle services worth millions of dollars in exchange for peanuts. You sweep cigar butts and empty spittoons in their little railroad station. And they must be laughing like hell at such a bargain. Or else they think they've conned some simple-minded natives into minding the store for the glory of association with the Great Feathered God. You have non-profit transactions only with groups too primitive to deal, on value, to negotiate. It's always been an insult to give a man something. He'll slap you in the face for it the first time he gets on his feet. It's a sign of primitiveness not to ask for a deal."

  Dr. Ames stared at him coldly. But there was pain in his voice when he spoke. "I'm sorry you see the situation from such a viewpoint. Mr. Smith's report -- which is obviously erroneous -- indicated a high degree of idealism that is not apparent in you. We thought you would be delighted at this opportunity to participate in the intelligent growth of the Universe."

  Harry swore. "Look, I'm as idealistic as the next guy, and I could see how nice it would be to have a slice of the science that can build matter transmitters. But if you can't get your hands on it, you may as well have never heard of it. It's not doing you any good. What does growth of the Universe mean if you're not part of it?"

  "When the human race is worthy -- "

  "Nuts! The human race will never be worthy. And who sets the standards of worth, anyhow? A few people within the human race could undoubtedly make good use of this science and maybe elevate the race as a whole because of it. But it's no good unless it's in your hands. And you have given these creatures two generations of service -- !"

  "Our service has been very small," said Ames, "for the privilege of association with such an advanced culture."

  "You've been caught in a bare-faced con game. They sound like some of the contractors I've seen who propose to build world-beating weapons systems for the Government, and when you look into it you find they're working out of a barn. When I was a Technical Contract Negotiator I learned that people respect a man who asks a fair price for what he does. Nobody respects the outfit that tries to buy in on a program by offering a job below cost. These characters needed a base manned by intelligent natives in this part of the galaxy. Obviously, there aren't any others within fifty thousand light-years. We're them! And there you had the Emissary's crowd over a barrel and didn't even try to dicker a fair deal out of them.

  "Sometimes it's better to say 'Right deal or no deal at all.' It's not true that a deal at any cost is right. Every deal has a price that's too high for the benefit received. A seller will always try to force the buyer above that point. A little old-fashioned horse trading can make a deal profitable for both sides. If it can't, the deal is not worth consummating. Everybody knows that, except some scientists and U.S. foreign policy experts. You're being played for suckers."

  "It may be necessary to extend your probationary period," said Dr. Ames. "You can guess that we occasionally find potential employees who do not fit into our program. Hypno-chemical methods must be used to prevent their revelation of our program after we expose it. I'm sure Mr. Smith explained this to you."

  "Mr. Smith didn't explain anything. But it really doesn't matter much. You're done for, anyway. This very unworthy human race -- or some members thereof -- are about to blow the entire operation off the map."

  "What exactly do you mean?"

  "I mean this little hotbed of a border war going on around you. You aren't dealing merely with spear-throwing natives. The other side has Russian missiles, and they're zeroed in on this station right now."

  VII

  Dr. Ames seemed to shrink as he sank into his chair, his face green-lined and gray. His eyes seemed to retreat in their sockets as he stared at Harry. "How do you know?" he said at last.

  "They showed up on the IR camera during helicopter patrol. I saw enough of them in Vietnam to recognize them."

  "I haven't seen any such pictures."

  "I don't know what happened to the pictures. Maybe somebody's hiding them from you. But I took them, and you should be able to recognize the mobile launchers yourself."

  Dr. Ames nodded slowly. His eyes focused over Harry's shoulder and an infinity beyond. "I see," he said slowly. "I see. You have done us a great service, Wiseman. Now I wonder if I could prevail upon you to assist in our final function."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You spoke the truth a moment ago when you said things didn't matter now. They don't. This is the end of two lifetimes of dreaming. Whatever you think of the rationality of our actions, you must agree we've been faithful to our dream. Now we must perform one final act of faith."

  "I don't understand."

  "If one of those missiles is fired and destroys the station, the Train will also be destroyed. You see, we're not talking about a discrete thing, made up of cars, an engine, and so on. The 'Train' is more a pipeline. It is in continuous operation and is filled with merchandise, raw materials -- and inhabitants of a thousand worlds. If the station is destroyed, it will mean the destruction of an inestimable volume of goods and the deaths of hundreds of creatures of the galaxy. We must not let that happen."

  "How can you prevent it?"

  "We can institute a procedure known as shunting. It has never been used by us, but it has been established by the operators as an emergency procedure that will shunt the train to another track, so to speak, and enable it to reach an emergency station. But once we use it, they will never reinstate Earth as a relay point."

  "Why? This is a legitimate emergency."

  "Ames smiled bitterly. "I'm afraid they don't like our brand of emergencies. During the two World Wars they closed the station and threatened to move it completely. We assured them such things could not happen again and that the station would be safe. Now the station is in more danger than it has ever been, and we have tried to keep the information from them for fear they would move it. I'm afraid we haven't been wise. We have been greedy. Now, shunting is our only choice."

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "A shunting procedure would be opposed by many of our people. They are fiercely determined to maintain the station at all costs. But they forget the cost would be paid by our friends of other galaxies, rather than ourselves. So I might be opposed and overpowered if it were known I was going to shunt. I will get a dozen technicians I can trust. I can use your help. Will
you join me?"

  Harry felt caught now in forces he understood not at all. But he felt a kinship with Ames and his dreams. Regretfully, he wished the decision did not have to be so final. But with the missile zeroed on the station, there was no time to defend or negotiate. The risk was too great. The Train had to be put out of danger.

  "I'll do anything I can," he said.

  "Good. It will take a little time to make preparations. Meet me in the Operations Center an hour from now. Don't be late. It will be dangerous to delay any longer."

  Harry left the office with a feeling of some infinite sadness. It was all too new for him to fully comprehend or sense the feeling among the station personnel. But now he could understand something of the intense devotion that had seemed so mysterious before.

  In front of the Administration Building he met a junior technician who was just alighting from a Jeep. "Mr. Martin wants to see you right away. It's very urgent," the technician said. "He sent me to look for you."

  The technician gestured toward the Operations Center and waited expectantly for Harry to climb into the Jeep. Harry waited deliberately. The technician seemed too anxious. Yet this couldn't possibly have anything to do with Harry's conversation with Ames. He wanted to help Ames now. Nothing must hold him back from that.

  "Can't it wait until later?" he said. "I have some appointments to keep."

  "It won't take long. Mr. Martin is very anxious."

  "With the same slow deliberation, Harry got into the Jeep beside the technician. A few moments later he was in Steve Martin's office in the Operations Center.

  Two other men were present. Harry had not met either.

  "Sit down," said Steve. He gestured to a chair. His face was hard and unfriendly.

  Harry sat on the edge of a desk. Steve watched, challenging Harry to decline his invitation. Harry remained where he was.

  "Who are you?" Steve said.

  "You know who I am."

  "No, we don't. I've seen your pictures of the Addabas missile launcher. You knew it was there. Frank Declaux says you led the way right to it. You knew where to look. Who are you, Wiseman? What are you doing here? How did you know about that launcher?"

  "I saw plenty of them in Vietnam," said Harry. "They're easy to recognize once you've seen one."

  "That's not good enough. You led Frank Declaux right to it. You knew where to look."

  "I've seen enough gun sites and missile pads to know where they are supposed to be."

  "Right where you knew it would be."

  "So you're telling the story," said Harry. "What's the next chapter?"

  "I don't know." Steve dropped in a chair and put his feet up on the desk and watched Harry's face with minute inspection. "Smith couldn't have been that wrong about you. His tests are better than that."

  "They're pretty thorough," Harry agreed.

  "Look, Wisemen. I'm going to give you the whole story now. And your life depends on what you decide to do about it. There's no place to run to from here, and nobody to call for help. Is that clear?"

  "Quite clear."

  "All right. You've heard Ames's side of the story. Now hear ours. Two generations of good men have been wasted waiting for the Emissary and his people to give us something more than a grubstake for taking care of their station. They've given us nothing. We've made the best possible psychological analysis of the Emissary. Dr. James here -- " Steve nodded to one of the other men, " -- Dr. James is among the world's best qualified psychologists in the field of antagonistic cultures. His analysis is that the Emissary is never going to give us anything. They're playing us for patsies."

  "I told Ames exactly that," said Harry. "We seem to be in full agreement."

  "Good. That makes the rest of it much easier."

  "And what's the rest of it?"

  "We're going to take something in return for the years of service Earthmen have given the Emissary." Steve pointed out to the barren compound. "Out there, every hour there passes knowledge and wealth of artifacts of a super-science beyond valuation. We're going to stop the train and help ourselves. For fifty years we've been doing janitor work for these creeps. They're never going to invite us into the club. But one trainload -- just one trainload would repay us for everything. It would advance our basic science by a dozen generations. We'd get enough to reach out to the stars and make contact with the galaxies on our own."

  "I'll be damned," said Harry. "A regular old-fashioned train robbery!"

  "Call it that if you like. We prefer to view it simply as a long overdue collection."

  "And you want me in?" said Harry. "How come? What do I do?"

  "You keep your mouth shut. That's absolutely all. Just keep your mouth shut. It's on that that your survival depends. The stakes are too high for us to be fooling around."

  "I'm afraid you lost me on that round. What am I supposed to keep shut about?"

  "The missile launcher."

  Now you have lost me. What's the connection between the missile and your proposed hijacking of the train?"

  "The missile is the means. It's zeroed in on the north grid, the transmission grid. When that grid is blown out of commission, the Train will automatically materialize on the reception grid, the south one. It will pop up right here in the compound with its load of goodies."

  "It seems to me it would be a lot easier to just pull a switch somewhere."

  Steve laughed. "It might -- if we could find a switch to pull. You saw the modules we deal with. We honestly don't know how to disable any selected part of the station. We've been looking for five years."

  "Your proposal is a little on the risky side. Even Russian missiles aren't that accurate."

  "We've zeroed this one in with accuracy we consider sufficient."

  "And suppose it works? Do you think the Emissary is going to hold still for that? How do you know those people won't be down here with fire and wipe out the whole Eartho out of the Universe?"

  "The probability is better than 99% that they won't react. We show them that this is the product of intra-group dispute. They're used to our wars. They will pull their station out as they threatened to do the last time, but they won't retaliate. Dr. James is sure of it."

  "I wish I was as sure as Dr. James is," said Harry. "No offense -- " he nodded to the psychologist.

  "Of course not," said Dr. James. "We are adequately certain of our ground. Our explanation of a missile blast will be accepted. Sabotage of the equipment -- even if we could do it -- would be recognized as deliberate. That could cause retaliation."

  "So you're Communists," said Harry with finality.

  "No," said Steve, "That's one thing we aren't. They think we are. We're using them. They've used us long enough. Don't you think it's time for a turn around?"

  "It's a case of supping with the Devil."

  "We can handle them. Don't worry about that."

  "The famous last words of a lot of good men."

  "Forget it. You've got the picture of the situation. Where do you stand?"

  "On the sidelines -- if you don't mind. I think you're a bunch of damned fools."

  "That's all right with us. But just keep your mouth shut about the missile. Is that clear?"

  "Clear. I'm just curious about one point. What would Dr. Ames and his people do if they learned about it?"

  "Ames is an old fool. His whole crowd is a bunch of old women, thinking they're going to get something out of the Emissary. But if you told them about this they would start an operation called shunt. It would turn the Train aside, and we'd be out of luck forever -- and you would be as dead as it's possible to get."