IX
Night had fallen in the park beyond the huge Foreign Office buildingand the air was damp and cool. Duke shivered in the shadows thatcovered his bench. He should head back to his room, but he had nodesire to listen again to the meaningless chatter that came through thethin walls. Time didn't matter to him now, anyhow.
He swore and reached for a cigarette, brushing the crumpled newspaperfrom his lap. He'd been a fool to think Flannery would bother with him,just as he'd been a fool to turn down Queeth's offer. He'd wasted hisday off from the messenger job.
Footsteps sounded down the walk that led past his bench, and he drewdeeper into the shadows. The steps slowed and a man moved to the otherend of the bench. Duke drew heavily on his cigarette, tossed it away,and started to get up.
"Drink?" There was a hand holding a flask in front of him. Hehesitated, then took it, and let a long slug run down his throat. Inthe faint light he could make out the face of Director Flannery. Theman nodded. "Sorry I was out when you came, O'Neill. One of the guardssaw you out here, so I came over."
"You should have been in," Duke said, handing the flask back. "I'vechanged my mind since reading about some of your deals in the _Journal_.Well, thanks for the drink."
One of Flannery's prosthetic hands rested on Duke's shoulder, and thepressure was surprisingly heavy. "When a man takes a drink with me,captain, he waits until I finish mine." He tipped up the flask anddrank slowly before putting it away. "I suppose you mean theCathay-Kloomiria mess?"
"What else?" Mess was a mild word. The Sugfarth ship had seemed to makevictory for Cathay certain the first few days, but the war had entereda new phase now. Cathay couldn't maintain the big ship, and it waspractically useless. It had simply served to reduce Kloomiria to aposition where both sides were equal. The war showed signs of settlingdown to another prolonged, exhausting affair.
"Yeah, I read the editorial." Flannery sighed. "We did let a couple offools make Cathay think we'd bail her out. At the time, it seemed wise.The son of old Var was due to assume rule in a little while and he wasstrongly pro-human. We wanted to hold things off until he took over andscrapped the war plans. When he was killed--well, we pulled out beforeVar was any stronger."
"And sent Queeth's crowd in to do your blood-letting for you?" Dukesneered.
"That was their own idea," Flannery denied. He lighted a cigarette andsat staring at the end of it, blowing out a slow stream of smoke. "Allright, we made a mess of Cathay. We'll know better next time. Care towalk back with me?"
"Why? So one of your trained psychopropagandists can indoctrinate me?Or to get drunk and cry over your confession?"
"To keep me from sinking to your level and pushing your nose down yourthroat!" Flannery told him, but there was no real anger in his voice.He stood up, shrugging. "Nobody's forcing you, O'Neill. Say the wordand I'll drive you home. But if you want that explanation, my workingoffice seems like a good place to talk."
For a moment, Duke wavered. But he'd reached the end of his ownresearch, and he'd come here to find the answers. Leaving now wouldonly make him more of a fool. "O.K.," he decided. "I'll stay for thebig unveiling."
Flannery grimaced. "There's no great secret, though we don't broadcastthe facts for people and races not ready for them. We figure those whofinish growing up here will soak up most of it automatically. Did youget around to the film file on interstellar wars at the library?"
Duke nodded, wondering how much they knew about his activities. He'dspent a lot of time going over the film for clues. It was so old thatthe color had faded in places. The rest would have been easier to takewithout color. Most wasn't good photography, but all was vivid. It wasthe record of all the wars since Earth's invention of thehigh-drive--nearly two hundred of them. Gimsul, Hathor, Ptek, Sugfarth,Clovis, and even Meloa--the part he hadn't seen, beyond Kordule wherethe real damage lay; Ronda had been wrong, and cannibalism had beendiscovered, along with much that was worse. Two hundred wars in whichvictor and vanquished alike had been ruined--in which the supremeeffort needed to win had left most of the victors worse than thedefeated systems.
"War!" The word was bitter on Flannery's lips. "Someone starts buildingwar power--power to insure peace, as they always say. Then othersystems must have power to protect themselves. Strength begetsforce--and fear and hatred. Sooner or later, the strain is too great,and you have a war so horrible that its very horror makes surrenderimpossible. You saw it on Meloa. I've seen it fifty times!"
* * * * *
They reached the Foreign Office building and began crossing its lobby.Flannery glanced up at the big seal on the wall with its motto intwisted Latin--_Per Astra ad Aspera_--and his eyes turned back toDuke's, but he made no comment. He led the way to a private elevatorthat dropped them a dozen levels below the street, to a small room,littered with things from every conceivable planet. One wall wascovered with what seemed to be the control panel of a spaceship,apparently now used for a desk. The director dropped into a chair andmotioned Duke to another.
He looked tired, and his voice seemed older as he bent to pull a smallprojector and screen from a drawer and set them up. "The latest chapterof the film," he said bitterly, throwing the switch.
It was a picture of the breakup of the Outer Federation, and in someways worse than the other wars. Chumkt rebelled against Kel'sleadership and joined the aliens, while a civil war sprang up on hersurface. Two alien planets went over to Kel. The original war wasforgotten in a struggle for new combinations, and a thousand smallerwars replaced it. The Federation was dead and the two dozen races weredying.
"When everything else fails, the fools try federation," Flannery saidas the film ended. "We tried it on Earth. Another race discovered theinterstellar drive before we did and used it to build an empire. We'vefound the dead and sterile remains of their civilization. It's alwaysthe same. When one group unites its power, those nearby must ally forprotection. Then there's a scramble for more power, while jealousiesand fears breed new hatreds, internally and externally. And finally,there's ruin--because at the technological level of interstellartravel, victory in war is absolutely, totally impossible!"
He sat back, and Duke waited for him to resume, until it was obvious hehad finished. At last, the younger man gave up waiting. "All right," hesaid. "Earth won't fight! Am I supposed to turn handsprings? I figuredthat much out myself. And I learned a long time ago about the blessedmeek who were to inherit the Earth--but I can't remember anything beingsaid about the stars!"
"You think peace won't work?" Flannery asked mildly.
"I know it won't!" Duke fumbled for a cigarette, trying to organize histhoughts. "You've been lucky so far. You've counted on the fact thatwar powers have to attack other powers nearby before they can safelystrike against Earth, and you've buffered yourself with a jury-riggedeconomic trading system. But what happens when some really brightoverlord decides to by-pass his local enemies? He'll drop fifty planetbombs out of your peaceful skies and collect your vassal worlds beforethey can rearm. You won't know about that, though. You'll be wipedout!"
"I wouldn't call our friends vassals, or say the system was jury-rigged,"Flannery objected. "Ever hear of paradynamics? The papers call itthe ability to manipulate relationships, when we let them write aspeculative article. It's what lets us rebuild worlds in less than halfa century--and form the first completely peaceful politico-economicculture we've ever known. Besides, I never said we had no weapons forour defense."
Duke considered it, trying to keep a firm footing on the shiftingquicksand of the other's arguments. He knew a little of paradynamics,of course, but only as something supposed to remake the world and allscience in some abstract future. It had been originated as a complexmathematical analysis of nuclear relationships, and had been seized onfor some reason by the sociologists. It had no bearing he could see onthe main argument.
"It won't wash, Flannery. Without a fleet, it won't matter if you havethe plans of every weapon ever invented. The first time a
smart powertakes the chance, you'll run out of time."
"We didn't!" Flannery swung to the control board that served as hisdesk, and his fingers seemed to play idly with the dials. Fromsomewhere below them, there was a heavy vibration, as if great engineshad sprung into life. He pressed another switch.
* * * * *
FLANNERY]
Abruptly, the room was gone. There was a night sky above them, almoststarless, and with a great, glaring moon shining down, to show a rough,mossy terrain that seemed covered endlessly with row after row ofrusting, crumbling spaceships. Atomic cannon spilled from theirhatches, and broken ramps led down to the ground. Down one clearer laneamong the countless ships that surrounded him, Duke saw what might be adistant fire with a few bent figures around it, giving the impressionof age.
Beside him, Flannery sat in his chair, holding a small control. Therewas nothing else of the office visible.
The director shook his head. "It's no illusion, O'Neill. You'rehere--fifty odd thousand light-years from Earth, where we transferredthe attacking fleet. You never heard of that, of course. Thedictator-ruler naturally didn't make a report when his fleet simplyvanished without trace. Here!"
The liquor burned in Duke's throat, but it steadied him. He bent down,to feel the mossy turf under his hand.
"It's real," Flannery repeated. "Paradynamics handles allrelationships, captain. And the position of a body is simply astatement of its geometrical relationships. What happens if we changethose relationships--with power enough, that is? There is no motion, inany classic sense. But newspapers appear two high-drive days awayminutes after they're printed. We arrive here. And fleets sent againstEarth just aren't there any more!"
He pressed a button, and abruptly the walls of his office were aroundthem again--the office that was suddenly the control room of a buildingthat was more of a battleship than any Duke had ever seen.
He found himself clutching the chair, and forced himself to relax,soaking up the shock as he had soaked up so many others. His mind facedthe facts, accepted them, and then sickly extended them.
"All right, you've got weapons," he admitted, and disgust was heavy inhis voice. "You can defend yourself. But can the galaxy defend itselfwhen somebody decides it's a fine offensive weapon? Or are all Earthmensupposed to be automatically pure, so this will never be turned tooffensive use? Prove that to me and maybe I'll change my mind aboutthis planet and take that job of yours!"
Flannery leaned back, nodding soberly. "I intend to," he answered."Duke, we tried making peaceful citizens of our youngsters here acentury ago, but it wouldn't work. Kids have to have their little gangwars and their fisticuffs to grow up naturally. We can't force them.Their interests aren't those of adults. In fact, they think adults arepretty dull. No adventure. They can't see that juggling atwenty-million gamble on tooling up for a new competitive product isexciting; they can't understand working in a dull laboratory to digsomething new out of nature's files can be exciting and dangerous.Above all, they can't see that the greatest adventure is the job ofbringing kids up to be other adults. They regret the passing of duelingand affairs of honor. But an adult civilization knows better--becausethe passing of such things is the first step toward a race becomingadult, because it is adopting a new type of thinking, where such thingshave no value. You didn't hit me when I called you names, because itmade no sense from an adult point of view. Earth doesn't go to war forthe same reason. Thank God, we grew up just before we got into space,where adult thinking is necessary to survival!"
There had been the kids and their seemingly pointless argument on thestreet. There had been the curiously distant respect the Meloans hadshown him, as if they guessed that only his exterior was similar. Therewere a lot of things Duke could use to justify believing the director.It made a fine picture--as it was intended to.
* * * * *
"It must be wonderful to sit here safely, while agents do yourdangerous work, feeling superior to anyone who shows any courage," hesaid bitterly. "I suppose every clerk and desk-jockey out there feedshimself the same type of rationalization. But words don't proveanything. How do you prove the difference between maturity and timidityor smugness?"
"You asked for it," Flannery said simply.
The button went down on the control again. The air was suddenly thinand bitingly cold as they looked down on a world torn with war, where ahundred ships shaped like half-disks and unlike anything Duke had seenwere mixed up in some maneuver. The button was pushed again, and thistime there was a world below that had a port busy with similar ships,not fighting now. A third press brought them onto the surface of aheavy world that seemed to be composed of solid buildings andfactories, where the ships were being outfitted with incomprehensiblegoods. A thing like a pipe-stem man looked up from a series ofoperations, made a waving motion to them, and abruptly disappeared.
"Did you really think we could be the only adult race in the universe?"Flannery asked. "You're looking at the Allr, the closest culturalgestalt to us, and somewhere near our level. Now--"
Something squamous perched on a rock on what seemed to be a barrenworld. Before it floated bright points of light that were obviouslyreplicas of planets, with tiny lines of light between them, and ashuttling of glints along the lines. The thing seemed to look at them,briefly. A tentacle whipped up and touched Flannery, who sat with hishands off the control box. Without its use, they were abruptly back intheir office.
Flannery shivered, and there was strain on his face, while Duke felthis mind freeze slowly, as if with physical cold. The director clearedhis throat. "Or maybe we should look at more routine things, though youmight consider that we have to get ready for the day when our advancingculture touches on other cultures. Because we can't put it offforever."
This time, they were in a building, like a crude shed, and there weremen there, standing in front of a creature that seemed like a human inarmor--but chitinous armor that was part of him. The alien suddenlyturned, though Duke could now see that they were in a section behindone-way glass. Nevertheless, it seemed to sense them. Abruptly,something began pulling at his mind, as if his thoughts were beingdrained. Flannery hit the button again. "Telepathic race, and veryimmature," he said, and there was worry in his voice. "Thank God, theonly one we've found, and out of our immediate line of advance."
There were other scenes. A human being who walked endlessly three feetoff the floor, fighting against some barrier that wasn't there, withhis face frozen in fear, while creatures that seemed to be metallicmoved about. "He found something while working on one of ourparadynamic problems," Flannery said. "He transported himself there andhas been exactly like that ever since--three years, now. So far, ourdesk-jockeys here haven't been able to discover exactly what line hewas working on, but they're trying!"
They were back in the office, and the director laid the control box onthe big panel and cut off the power. He swung back to face Duke, hisface tired.
"You'll find a ship waiting to take you to Throm, and a man on boardwho'll use the trip to brief you, if you decide to take the job, Duke.As I said, it's up to you. If you still prefer your wars, come and seeme next week, and maybe I can get the recruiting law set aside in yourcase, since you're really a citizen of Meloa. Otherwise, the ship takesoff for Throm in exactly three hours."
He led the way back to the elevator, and rode up to the lobby. Dukemoved out woodenly, but Flannery was obviously going no farther. Theold man handed over what was left of the flask, shook Duke's handquickly, and closed the elevator door.
Duke downed the liquor slowly, without thinking. Finally, a flicker ofthought seemed to stir in his frozen mind. He shook himself and headeddown the lobby toward the Earth outside. A faint vibration seemed toquiver in the air from below, and he quickened his steps.
Outside, he shook himself again, signaled a cab, and climbed in.
"The first liquor store you come to," he told the driver. "And thentake me to the govern
ment space port, no matter what I say!"
X
It was quiet in the underground office of the director, except for thefaint sound of Flannery's arms sliding across each other in anunconscious massaging motion. He caught himself at it, and leaned back,his tired facial muscles twitching into a faint smile.
Strange things happened to a man when he grew old. His hair turnedgray, he thought more of the past, and prosthetic limbs began to feeltired, as if the nerves were remembering also. And the work that hadonce seemed vitally important in every detail winnowed itself down to afew things, with the rest only bothersome routine.
He pulled a thermos of coffee from under the desk and turned back tothe confusion of red-coded memoranda on his desk. Then the sound of theelevator coming down caught his attention, and he waited until the dooropened.
"Hello, Harding," he said without turning around. Only one man besidehimself had the key to the private entrance. "Coffee?"
Harding took a seat beside him, and accepted the plastic cup. "Thanks.I tried to call you, but your phone was shut off. Heard the good word?"
Flannery shook his head. With the matter of the strange ship that hadbeen reported and the problem of what to do with the telepaths bothcoming to a head, he'd had no time for casual calls. There was noquestion now that the telepaths had plucked the knowledge of how tobuild an interstellar drive from the observers' minds, in spite of allprecautions. And once they broke out into the rest of the galaxy--
"Var died of a heart attack in the middle of a battle," Hardingannounced. "And Cathay and Kloomiria sent each other surrender noticesthe minute word was official! The damnedest thing I ever heard of.Edmonds came with me, and he's upstairs now, planning a big victorycelebration as soon as we can let the word out. It should finish hisreorientation."
"I'll probably get word on it by the time someone has it all organizedinto a nice, official memo," Flannery said. "Back him up on thatcelebration. It's worth a celebration to find out both worlds are thatclose to maturity. Coming over for bridge tonight?"
Harding shook his head. "I'll be up to my elbows in bills for therelief of Cathay and Kloomiria. It's a mess, even if it could be worse.Maybe tomorrow."
He dropped the cup onto the desk and turned to the elevator, whileFlannery hunted through the memoranda. As he expected, he found arecent one announcing Var's death. He rubbed his arms together as heread it, but there was no new information in it.
Then, reluctantly, he picked up his phone and started to call. Scanningfor information, just as another bundle of memos came through a smalldoor in the panel. At the sight of the top photo, he put the phone backon its cradle. His face tautened and his arms lay limp as he readthrough it.
The picture was that of one of the half-disk Allr ships. The rumors ofthe strange ship were true enough. One of the Allr races had crossedthe gulf between the two expanding cultures, and had touched severalworlds briefly, to land in the biggest city on Ptek, the trading centerfor a whole sector. It had been there two days already, before beingreported to Earth!
To make matters worse, it had come because its home world had beenvisited by a foreign ship--from the description, apparently fromSugfarth; there was no longer any chance of cutting off the news, sinceit would be circulating busily through both cultures. And with it mustbe going a thousand wild schemes by trading adventurers forexploration!
He'd expected it to happen some day, maybe in fifty years, after he wasout of the office. By then enough of the worlds should have reachedmaturity to offer some hope of peaceful interpenetration. But now--
Victory, he thought bitterly. A small victory, and then this. Or maybetwo small victories, if O'Neill worked out as well on Throm as heseemed to be doing, and if he realized he'd never be satisfied until hecould return to Earth to face the problems he now knew existed.Flannery had almost hoped that it would be O'Neill who would handle theproblem of cultural interpenetration. The man had ability.
But all that was in the past now, along with all the other victories.And in the present, as always, there were larger and larger problems,while full maturity lay forever a little farther on.
Then he smiled slowly at himself. There were problems behind him,too--ones whose solutions made these problems possible. And there wouldalways be victory enough.
What was victory, after all, but the chance to face bigger and biggerproblems without fear?
Flannery picked up the phone, and his arms were no longer tired.
THE END
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