Security

by Poul Anderson

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  SECURITY

  BY POUL ANDERSON

  ILLUSTRATED BY EBEL

  In a world where Security is all-important, nothing can ever be secure. A mountain-climbing vacation may wind up in deep Space. Or loyalty may prove to be high treason. But it has its rewards.

  It had been a tough day at the lab, one of those days when nothing seemsable to go right. And, of course, it had been precisely the day Hammond,the Efficiency inspector, would choose to stick his nose in. Anothermark in his little notebook--and enough marks like that meant aderating, and Control had a habit of sending derated labmen to Venus.That wasn't a criminal punishment, but it amounted to the same thing.Allen Lancaster had no fear of it for himself; the sector chief of aProject was under direct Control jurisdiction rather than Efficiency,and Control was friendly to him. But he'd hate to see young Rogers getit--the boy had been married only a week now.

  To top the day off, a report had come to Lancaster's desk from SectorSeven of the Project. Security had finally cleared it for generaltransmission to sector chiefs--and it was the complete design of anelectronic valve on which some of the best men in Lancaster's owndivision, Sector Thirteen, had been sweating for six months. There wenthalf a year's work down the drain, all for nothing, and Lancaster wouldhave that much less to show at the next Project reckoning.

  He had cursed for several minutes straight, drawing the admiring glancesof his assistants. It was safe enough for a high-ranking labman to gripeabout Security--in fact, it was more or less expected. Scientists hadtheir privileges.

  One of these was a private three-room apartment. Another was an extraliquor ration. Tonight, as he came home, Lancaster decided to make adent in the latter. He'd eaten at the commissary, as usual, but hadn'tstayed to talk. All the way home in the tube, he'd been thinking of thatwhiskey and soda.

  Now it sparkled gently in his glass and he sighed, letting a smilecrease his lean homely face. He was a tall man, a little stooped, hisclothes--uniform and mufti alike--perpetually rumpled. Solitary bynature, he was still unmarried in spite of the bachelor tax and had onlyone son. The boy was ten years old now, must be in the Youth Guard;Lancaster wasn't sure, never having seen him.

  It was dark outside his windows, but a glow above the walls across theskyway told of the city pulsing and murmuring beyond. He liked the quietof his evenings alone and had withstood a good deal of personal andofficial pressure to serve in various patriotic organizations. "Damnit," he had explained, "I'm not doing routine work. I'm on a Project,and I need relaxation of my own choosing."

  He selected a tape from his library. _Eine Kleine Nachtmusik_ liltedjoyously about him as he found a chair and sat down. Control hadn'tgotten around to making approved lists of music yet, though you'dsurely never hear Mozart in a public place. Lancaster got a cigar fromthe humidor and collapsed his long gaunt body across chair and hassock.Smoke, whiskey, good music--they washed his mind clean of worry andfrustration; he drifted off in a mist of unformed dreams. Yes, it wasn'tsuch a bad world.

  * * * * *

  The mail-tube went _ping!_ and he opened his eyes, swearing. For amoment he was tempted to let the pneumo-roll lie where it fell, buthabit was too strong. He grumbled his way over to the basket and took itout.

  The stamp across it jerked his mind to wakefulness. _OfiSal, sEkret, fOradresE OnlE_--and a Security seal!

  After a moment he swallowed his thumping heart. It couldn't be serious,not as far as he personally was concerned anyway. If that had been thecase, a squad of monitors would have been at the door. Not this messagetube.... He broke the seal and unfolded the flimsy with elaborate care.Slowly, he scanned it. Underneath the official letterhead, the wordswere curt. "_Dis iz A matr uv urjensE and iz top sEkret. destrY Dis letrand Du tUb kontAniN it._ tUmOrO, 15 jUn, at 2130 ourz, U wil gO tU DuobzurvatOrE, A nIt klub at 5730 viktOrE strEt, and ask Du hedwAtr fOr Amistr Berg. U wil asUm Dat hE iz an Old frend uv yOrz and Dat Dis iz AsOSal EveniN. Du UZUal penaltEz ar invOkt fOr fAlUr tU komplI."

  There was no signature. Lancaster stood for a moment, trying to imaginewhat this might be. There was a brief chill of sweat on his skin. Thenhe suppressed his emotions. He had nothing to fear. His record was cleanand he wasn't being arrested.

  His mind wandered rebelliously off on something that had occurred to himbefore. Admittedly the new phonetic orthography was more efficient thanthe old, if less esthetic; but since little of the earlier literaturewas being re-issued in modern spelling not too many books had actuallybeen condemned as subversive--only a few works on history, politics,philosophy, and the like, together with some scientific texts restrictedfor security reasons; but one by one, the great old writings were sentto forgetfulness.

  Well, these were critical times. There wasn't material and energy tospare for irrelevant details. No doubt when complete peace was achievedthere would be a renaissance. Meanwhile he, Lancaster, had hisEuripides and Goethe and whatever else he liked, or knew where to borrowit.

  As for this message, they must want him for something big, maybesomething really interesting.

  Nevertheless, his evening was ruined.

  * * * * *

  The Observatory was like most approved recreation spots--large andraucous, selling unrationed food and drink and amusement at uncontrolledprices of which the government took its usual lion's share. The angle inthis place was astronomy. The ceiling was a blue haze a-glitter withslowly wheeling constellations, and the strippers began withmake-believe spacesuits. There were some rather good murals on the wallsdepicting various stages of the conquest of space. Lancaster was amusedat one of them. When he'd been here three years ago, the first landingon Ganymede had shown a group of men unfurling a German flag. It hadstuck in his mind, because he happened to know that the first expeditionthere had actually been Russian. That was all right then, seeing thatGermany was an ally at the time. But now that Europe was growingincreasingly cold to the idea of an American-dominated world, theGanymedean pioneers were holding a good safe Stars and Stripes.

  Oh, well. You had to keep the masses happy. They couldn't see that theirsacrifices and the occasional short wars were necessary to preventanother real smashup like the one seventy-five years ago. Lancaster'sannoyance was directed at the sullen foreign powers and the traitorswithin his own land. It was because of them that science had to bestrait-jacketed by Security regulations.

  The headwaiter bowed before him. "I'm looking for a friend," saidLancaster. "A Mr. Berg."

  "Yes, sir. This way, please."

  Lancaster slouched after him. He'd worn the dress uniform of a Projectofficer, but he felt that all eyes were on its deplorable sloppiness.The headwaiter conducted him between tables of half-crockedcustomers--burly black-uniformed Space Guardsmen, army and air officers,richly clad industrialists and union bosses, civilian leaders, theirwives and mistresses. The waiters were all Martian slaves, he noticed,their phosphorescent owl-eyes smoldering in the dim blue light.

  He was ushered into a curtained booth. There was an auto-dispenser sothat those using it need not be interrupted by servants, and anultrasonic globe on the table was already vibrating to soundproof theregion. Lancaster's gaze went to the man sitting there. In spite ofbeing short, he was broad-shouldered and compact in plain gray eveningpajamas. His face was round and freckled, almost cherubic, under a shockof sandy hair, but there were merry little devils in his eyes.

  * * * * *

  "Good evening, Dr. Lancaster," he said. "Please sit down. What'll youhave?"

  "Thanks, I'll have Scotch and soda." Might as well make this expensive,if th
e government was footing the bill. And if this--Berg--thought himun-American for drinking an imported beverage, what of it? The scientistlowered himself into the seat opposite his host.

  "I'm having the same, as a matter of fact," said Berg mildly. He twirledthe dial and slipped a couple of five-dollar coins into the dispenserslot. When the tray was ejected, he sipped his drink appreciatively andlooked across the rim of the glass at the other man.

  "You're a high-ranking physicist on the Arizona Project, aren't you, Dr.Lancaster?" he asked.

  That much was safe to admit. Lancaster nodded.

  "What is your work, precisely?"

  "You know I can't tell you anything like that."

  "It's all right. Here are my credentials." Berg extended a wallet.Lancaster scanned the cards and handed them back.

  "Okay, so you're in Security," he said. "I still can't tell youanything, not without proper clearance."

  Berg chuckled amiably. "Good. I'm glad to see you're discreet. Too manylabmen don't understand the necessity of secrecy, even between differentbranches of the same organization." With a sudden whip-like sharpness:"You didn't tell anyone about this meeting, did you?"

  "No, of course not." Despite himself, Lancaster was rattled. "That is, afriend asked if I'd care to go out with her tonight, but I said I wasmeeting someone else."

  "That's right." Berg relaxed, smiling. "All right, we may as well getdown to business. You're getting quite an honor, Dr. Lancaster. You'vebeen tapped for one of the most important jobs in the Solar System."

  "Eh?" Lancaster's eyes widened behind the contact lenses. "But no oneelse has informed me--"

  "No one of your acquaintance knows of this. Nor shall they. But tell me,you've done work on dielectrics, haven't you?"

  "Yes. It's been a sort of specialty of mine, in fact. I wrote my thesison the theory of dielectric polarization and since then--no, that'sclassified."

  "M-hm." Berg took another sip of his drink. "And right now you're just acog in a computer-development Project. You see, I do know a few thingsabout you. However, we've decided--higher up, you know, in fact on thevery top level--to take you off it for the time being and put you onthis other job, one concerning your specialty. Furthermore, you won't bepart of a great organizational machine, but very much on your own. Thefewer who know of this, the better."

  Lancaster wasn't sure he liked that. Once the job was done--if he werepossessed of all information on it--he might be incarcerated or evenshot as a Security risk. Things like that had happened. But there wasn'tmuch he could do about it.

  "Have no fears." Berg seemed to read his thoughts. "Your reward may be alittle delayed for Security reasons, but it will come in due time." Heleaned forward, earnestly. "I repeat, this project is _top secret_. It'sa vital link in something much bigger than you can imagine, and few menbelow the President even know of it. Therefore, the very fact thatyou've worked on it--that you've done any outside work at all--mustremain unknown, even to the chiefs of your Project."

  "Good stunt if you can do it," shrugged Lancaster. "But I'm hot.Security keeps tabs on everything I do."

  "This is how we'll work it. You have a furlough coming up in two weeks,don't you--a three months' furlough? Where were you going?"

  "I thought I'd visit the Southwest. Get in some mountain climbing, seethe canyons and Indian ruins and--"

  "Yes, yes. Very well. You'll get your ticket as usual and a reservationat the Tycho Hotel in Phoenix. You'll go there and, on your firstevening, retire early. Alone, I need hardly add. We'll be waiting foryou in your room. There'll be a very carefully preparedduplicate--surgical disguise, plastic fingerprinting tips, fullyeducated in your habits, tastes, and mannerisms. He'll stay behind andcarry out your vacation while we smuggle you away. A similar exchangewill be affected when you return, you'll be told exactly how your doublespent the summer, and you'll resume your ordinary life."

  "Ummm--well--" It was too sudden. Lancaster had to hedge. "Butlook--I'll be supposedly coming back from an outdoor vacation, with asuntan and well rested. Somebody's going to get suspicious."

  "There'll be sun lamps where you're going, my friend. And I think thechance to work independently on something that really interests you willprove every bit as restful to your nerves as a summer's travel. I knowthe scientific mentality." Berg chuckled. "Yes, indeed."

  * * * * *

  The exchange went off so smoothly that it was robbed of all melodrama,though Lancaster had an unexpectedly eerie moment when he confronted hisdouble. It was his own face that looked at him, there in the impersonalhotel room, himself framed against blowing curtains and darkness ofnight. Then Berg gestured him to follow and they went down a cord ladderhanging from the window sill. A car waited in the alley below and slidinto easy motion the instant they had gotten inside.

  There was a driver and another man in the front seat, both shadowsagainst the moving blur of street lamps and night. Berg and Lancastersat in the rear, and the secret agent chatted all the way. But he saidnothing of informational content.

  When the highway had taken them well into the loneliness of the desert,the car turned off it, bumped along a miserable dirt track until it hadcrossed a ridge, and slowed before a giant transcontinental dieselectrictruck. A man emerged from its cab, waving an unhurried arm, and the carswung around to the rear of the van. There was a tailgate lowered,forming a ramp; above it, the huge double doors opened on a cavern ofblackness. The car slid up the ramp, and the man outside pushed it inafter them and closed the doors. Presently the truck got into motion.

  "This is _really_ secret!" whistled Lancaster. He felt awed andhelpless.

  "Quite so. Security doesn't like the government's right hand to knowwhat its left is doing." Berg smiled, a dim flash of teeth in hisshadowy face. Then he was serious. "It's necessary, Lancaster. You don'tknow how strong and well-organized the subversives are."

  "They--" The physicist closed his mouth. It was true--he hadn't thefaintest notion, really. He followed the news, but in a cursory fashion,without troubling to analyze the meaning of it. Damn it all, he hadenough else to think about. Just as well that elections had beensuspended and bade fair to continue indefinitely in abeyance. If he, amember of the intelligentsia, wasn't sufficiently acquainted with thepolitical and military facts of life to make rational decisions, itcertainly behooved the ill-educated masses to obey.

  "We might as well stretch ourselves," said the driver. "Long way to goyet." He climbed out and switched on an overhead light.

  * * * * *

  The interior of the van was roomy, even allowing for the car. There werebunks, a table and chairs, a small refrigerator and cookstove. Thedriver, a lean saturnine man who seemed to be forever chewing gum, beganto prepare coffee. The other sat down, whistling tunelessly. He wasyoung and powerfully built, but his right arm ended in a prostheticclaw. All of them were dressed in inconspicuous civilian garb.

  "Take us about ten hours, maybe," said Berg. "The spaceship's 'way overin Colorado."

  He caught Lancaster's blank stare, and grinned. "Yes, my friend, yourlab is out in space. Surprised?"

  "Mmm--yeah. I've never been off Earth."

  "Sokay. We run at acceleration, you won't be spacesick." Berg drew up achair, sat down, and tilted it back against a wall. The steady rumble ofengines pulsed under his words:

  "It's interesting, really, to consider the relationship betweengovernment and military technology. The powerful, authoritariangovernments have always arisen in such times as the evolution of warfaremade a successful fighting machine something elaborate, expensive, andmaintainable by professionals only. Like in the Roman Empire. It tookyears to train a legionnaire and a lot of money to equip an army andkeep it in the field. So Rome became autarchic. However, it was not soexpensive a proposition that a rebellious general couldn't put sometroops up for a while--or he could pay them with plunder. So you did getcivil wars. Later, when the Empire had broken up and warfare reliedlargely
on the individual barbarian who brought his own weapons withhim, government loosened. It had to--any ruler who got to throwing hisweight around too much would have insurrection on his hands. Then as waragain became an art--well, you see how it goes. There are other factors,of course, like religion--ideology in general. But by and large, it'sworked out the way I explained it. Because there are always peoplewilling to fight when government encroaches on what they consider theirliberties, and governments are always going to try to encroach. So thebalance struck depends on comparative strength. The American colonistsback in 1776 relied on citizen levies and weapons were so cheap andsimple that almost anyone could obtain them. Therefore government stayedloose for a long time. But nowadays, who except a government can makeatomic bombs and space rockets? So we get absolute states."

  * * * * *

  Lancaster looked around, feeling the loneliness close in on him. Thedriver was still clattering the coffee pot. The one-armed man wasutterly blank and expressionless. And Berg sat there, smiling, pouringout those damnable cynicisms. Was it some kind of test? Were theyprobing his loyalty? What kind of reply was expected?

  "We're a democratic nation and you know it," he said. It came out morefeebly than he had thought.

  "Oh, well, sure. This is