Son of the Stars

by Raymond F. Jones

  He gave way to a sob that he could no longer withhold, and dropped his head upon his arms. Ron had the sensation that somewhere near by a bomb of incredible force had exploded—but that actual memory of it had vanished. He was aware only of standing motionless, holding Anne’s icy hand in his.

  “They are coming to make war,” said Clonar again.

  The corporal was the first to respond. He choked suddenly and blurted out in disbelief, “War? What do you mean, war?”

  He looked stupidly from one to the other. “War—Gillispie ought to know about this.”

  He moved and was gone before the others realized the significance of his presence. His going roused Ron from the half-stupor he felt he had been in momentarily.

  He shook Clonar’s arm. “What is this all about?” he demanded. “Why is your fleet coming to make war? What have we done to them?”

  “I didn’t know these things,” said Clonar as he raised his head wearily. “But it seems that my ship was attacked by an Earth ship. It was fired upon and destroyed by some kind of atomic missile.”

  “How could that be? We don’t have planes that shoot atomic bullets—or do we? Or do they? How could they be sure of this? You said that no word of the happening got back to your fleet.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Clonar. “But I was wrong. In the last minute of its plunge, the communicator succeeded in getting word of the attack to the fleet. But he did not have time to even indicate the solar system in which we were operating. The fleet has been searching for the possible solar system ever since.

  “They were prepared to give up the whole search in only a few more days. They would never have found Earth if I had not led them here to destroy you.”

  “But why should they make war upon the whole Earth, because of what one plane belonging to a single nation might have done?” cried Anne. “The whole world is not to blame!”

  “I understand how it could have been one belonging to your nation or to some other nation, but the fleet commander or the people generally have no concept of the division of a world into nations. To them a planet is a unit. Its people are as one. Since my ship was shot down by a ship of Earth, the blame rests upon the whole world.”

  “But this is crazy!” exclaimed Ron. “Your people are civilized far beyond us, yet to make war in retaliation for this ship is a primitive, childish act of vengeance.

  “Surely they can understand that the act of shooting down your ship was either an accident or primitive savagery. Neither calls for retaliation in kind from a race as advanced as yours!”

  “That is not their reasoning. It’s hard to make you understand the real point that our commander has taken. I can understand it. It’s wholly logical from a viewpoint outside your own race.”

  “Well, what is their reasoning?” demanded Anne. “I’d like to know how blowing up our Earth can be made logical!”

  “My people have explored Earth extensively. We understand it is highly developed in the field of physical science. And it will be only a short time until you have spaceflight of your own.

  “Yet the conflicts that rage among yourselves are like a disease and even when you get into space you will carry this disease with you and spread it perhaps.

  The destruction of my ship is taken as a sample of this. Our commander reasons that it is his obligation to the community of worlds to keep this disease from spreading.

  “Your world is viewed as a sick planet covered with some violent mold that ought to be burned and destroyed to keep it from spreading to other worlds!”

  Anne gasped with the horror of this concept. But Ron’s face grew bitter. “We could hardly blame your commander for such a view, if he has explored Earth well. But our own instinct for survival makes us highly unsympathetic with his proposed remedy.”

  Clonar looked up, genuine surprise in his face. “That’s not true, Ron. There is no instinct for survival among your people. The instinct is toward death. It is evident in the history you have related to me, the way your people have murdered each other over all the centuries of your history.”

  “That could be argued,” said Ron, “but now is not the time to do it. I say we want to survive. Is there nothing we can do to ward off this attack? Is there nothing at all that will appeal to your commander?”

  “I have presented all the arguments I knew, all I have learned from the days I have spent with you. He would not listen.”

  There seemed nothing more to say, and this brought fresh panic of its own as their minds searched like lost children for escape they knew did not exist.

  Their silence was broken by the sudden pounding of feet in the hallway outside. General Gillispie burst in, followed by the corporal and three MP’s.

  “Arrest that man!” He pointed to Clonar. “Don’t let him touch a thing.”

  The MP’s rushed forward, grasping Clonar’s arms.

  Ron whirled and faced Gillispie, eyes wide with rage. “Can’t you see that Clonar is our only hope in this matter? There’s no question that we will face weapons that can wipe mankind off the Earth. Clonar is the only preventive contact we have with that force. Do you have to destroy our one chance?

  “Clonar must be a person of some importance, or at least his father as captain of the saucer was. The fleet would not have spent so much time in the search if this were not so.

  “His chief value to us, now, is as a hostage. They may not be quite so anxious to blast us as long as he is in our possession.

  “What do you expect to do? Extract a promise not to harm us and let Clonar go? Would you trust them any more then than you do now?”

  Gillispie shook his head. “I would never trust them. Since the threat has been made, Clonar can never be freed until some other answer appears. That does not seem likely.”

  Clonar was smiling grimly. “You would be surprised, General, to know that I, too, find it difficult to see any other answer—although I am not so sure your holding me will keep them from attacking indefinitely. That is the thing you would be gambling on.”

  “I think not. A people as civilized as yours would not be likely to destroy one of their own in a senseless attack upon us.”

  “If you understood your own people as well,” said Clonar, “you would be a great man among them.” Gillispie flushed.

  “At least I have understood the value of my high card.”

  “Yes. And you are quite right in saying that you cannot trust my commander. He would promise not to harm you and then burn every vestige of life from your planet the moment you released me.”

  Gillispie blinked. “Why do you tell me such a fact as this?”

  “Because I am not merely interested in getting back to my home. Ron and Anne have been my friends.”

  Gillispie felt the knife-thrust. “Is there any other answer?” he challenged harshly.

  “I think there is. There is one person whose word my commander would honor.”

  “And that is?”

  “Mine. He would honor my word and accept any promise I might give him. Among us, we trust each other.”

  “What can you promise him that will make him relent?”

  “Because I have found friends here who have taken risks for me, I will tell him that I will stay here voluntarily and suffer any destruction he wishes to administer to this planet. Or, rather—I would tell him that if I were free to act. As a prisoner, I can do nothing.”

  Ron suddenly forgot everything about Gillispie’s rank, his rights, and the respect due him.

  “This is your last chance,” he charged furiously.

  The General turned to face him, and Ron saw that his countenance was drawn with lines of fatigue and the beginnings of telltale marks of age.

  “I’m going to try it your way once again,” he said, “because you have convinced me that it is the best way. And someday I hope that you’re in a command of mine, no matter how remote. When that day comes, I’ll break you or make you great.

  “Release the man.” He gestured abru
ptly to the MP’s.

  “Now you are free,” he said to Clonar. “Do what you will.”

  “I will present my ultimatum to my commander at our next schedule.”

  “When is that?”

  “In the morning at ten.”

  “How long will it take them to get here?”

  “Twelve days.”

  “You may tell them that if they come to destroy we will meet them with every force at our command. Now, we had better all get some sleep.”

  He strode from the room and left them.

  There was little sleep for any of them that night. Ron lay in bed watching the moonlight against the window. He knew that Clonar in the next room was doing the same, and a few blocks away Anne was watching the same moon and thinking the same thoughts.

  He knew, too, that Gillispie had not gone to bed.

  The General would be up the rest of the night phoning Washington, conferring with his superiors, setting the wheels in motion that would turn the comparatively puny defenses of Earth against the attacker. Ron wondered if they would attempt, or if there would be time to get international cooperation.

  They had told no one, not even their parents, nor would they. It would be a useless burden to impose, and no adult, no parent could offer consolation or mediation.

  And, in the end, Ron thought, there was nothing to tell. You couldn’t go to your friends and neighbors and proclaim that the world may be destroyed with a single blow tomorrow. Prophets of a thousand dooms had done that in times past, and had been laughed at while the doom fell.

  Men could comprehend a little destruction, a bombing here, a killing there—a lighted fuse of war on a distant island. But the wholesale burning of their own land was too great to be believed.

  Ron wondered if the military Chiefs of Staff would believe Gillispie. Perhaps they wouldn’t credit him enough to alert the planes.

  It was a small matter whether they did or not, Ron felt. It would be useless to send up a few hundred fighter craft even if they were armed with atomic bullets. Their slow pace could scarcely bring them in range of the swiftly darting saucers. None would be so careless now to come within range as Clonar’s ship had done.

  He wondered what kind of weapons the saucers had available since they were not primarily warships. It mattered little. If the Earth were to be burned, there was little significance in the kind of match that ignited it.

  It seemed that sunrise came abruptly, and he knew he had slept for a time. He heard Clonar moving about in the next room and dressed quickly. He had the curious feeling of somehow living in a day that would not be found upon the calendar—a day belonging to some unreal time that did not exist.

  At breakfast, George Barron scanned their faces. He started to make a joke, then thought better of it.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen two more sober faces than you fellows have this morning,” he said.

  “Just thinking,” said Ron absently. “We’re still out at the base chewing over a problem.”

  They picked up Anne at nine. There was no use going earlier. The trip was made in almost complete silence.

  Gillispie was waiting for them when they came in. They knew at once that he had not gone to bed again during the night. His face had a burned-out look.

  “I couldn’t get the planes alerted,” he said. “They wouldn’t believe the story. They’re sending out a couple of full generals to investigate me!”

  While they waited for the giant transmitter tubes to warm up, Ron stood close to the General. He felt a strange affinity for the severe man who was caught between the world of flesh and the world of steel, for he knew that Gillispie was one of those men cursed with the gift of understanding an opponent even while he was forced to cut him down.

  When the transmitter was ready, Clonar sat at the table and switched on the microphone. He began calling in his own language, and listened at intervals, switching back and forth between mike and receiver.

  Suddenly the star hiss of the speaker was replaced with a booming alien voice. It was the same, Ron thought, that they had heard the evening before. And now Clonar was in conversation with the distant commander.

  They tried to catch the import of the alien words by inflection and accent, but they understood only its menace and the mystery of its distant origin. They tried to grasp the decision that was being handed down by the tensing of Clonar’s muscles, but he remained as still as stone.

  Yet the conversation was brief. Clonar sagged and cut the switch on the final words and they knew it was over.

  Gillispie was the first to rush forward. He grasped Clonar by the arm and shook him.

  “What was the decision, boy? What did your commander say?”

  Clonar raised his head. His face was bright as if through the relief of some tremendous grief.

  “He agreed,” Clonar said. “He agreed to pick me up and leave your world unharmed.”

  Chapter 19 Homeward

  t was midafternoon when they returned to town. Clonar made arrangements to tape record the technical data on his faster-than-light wave generator and some other items he was willing to release to Gillispie.

  In town, they dropped Anne at her home and went on to Ron’s. As they drove up, they saw the curb lined with cars.

  “Mom’s bridge and gossip festival,” said Ron. “I’d forgotten about this.”

  Suddenly the date seemed back on the calendar. The night and the morning belonged to a dream.

  “We’d better sneak in quietly,” Ron said. He knew the hall would be clear, so they entered through the front door and began moving up the stairs. Only a brief glimpse of them had been visible to some of the ladies seated about card tables in the living room.

  Three steps up the stairs, they halted as a hoarse whisper filtered out from the room. Ron recognized the voice of Mrs. Newton, wife of one of Longview’s bank presidents.

  “I should think you’d be frightened,” she said, “to have that monster here in the house all the time.”

  There was a humming murmur of assent. Ron turned, the blood rising to his face. He had the impulsive thought that he would burst into the room and tell them what they were, but Clonar caught his arm.

  They were startled then to hear the voice of Mrs. Barron. The sharpness of it made it almost a shout.

  “I should think you would be ashamed of yourselves,” she said. “I know I am ashamed of the things I said and did the first days he was here. But now I have learned something tremendously important.

  “Clonar has come to be as likable and human as my own son. The great thing I have learned is that it doesn’t matter what a person’s hair is like, how many fingers or toes he has, or the shape of his nose, or the color of his face.

  “It’s the things that he thinks and the friendship that he offers you that count. It’s not the outside of the package. It’s the contents.”

  Ron grinned broadly and whispered to Clonar, “Good old Mom! That’s telling those harpies!”

  They continued up the stairs while the buzz of indignation and apology mingled below.

  The next days were spent as Ron wished, and there was nothing to mar them. Clonar spent much time preparing the data for Gillispie, and he gave additional material to Ron. But Ron knew he was withholding much and didn’t press him for any more than he desired to leave.

  They spent time fishing and hiking and swimming and just riding in the car under the stars. Clonar told Ron a thousand tales of the strange worlds he had seen, and left him dreams enough to last a lifetime.

  On the final day, there was a sadness that neither of them tried to hide.

  “Twenty-four hours,” said Ron. “What would you like to do on the final day you have left here?”

  Clonar considered a moment. “I think I’d like to go back to the lake again. I’d like to go swimming and dancing there. I’d like to dance again with Anne, if I may.”

  “That’s a swell idea. Shall we invite some of the gang or go by ourselves?”

  �
�Just you and Anne and I. I would like that best.”

  Anne was in favor of it. She spent almost all the afternoon making Clonar try to teach her his swimming technique, which she insisted she could learn. They gave up telling her she couldn’t, and the fun of her attempts, and the being together under the hot summer sky bound them in a way that would withstand the separation of vast, cold light-years.

  They stayed in the water until the music of the dance band began to be heard over the lake. They dressed then and ate the lunch they had brought, and afterwards moved over to the pavilion.

  “I’ll flip you for the first honor,” said Ron. “No, I won’t either. Since this is your going-away party you may have the first dance with my particular girl friend.”

  Clonar took her in his arms and moved away smoothly as if he had been dancing all his life. “Maybe you wondered why I wanted to do this,” he said almost shyly. “It’s because I think your dancing is a very lovely custom and I would like to take it back to my world. And I never told Ron, but back there I have a girl friend of my own whom I never expected to see again.”

  Ron gave them a friendly wave and sat down on the bench at the edge of the floor. What would it be like, he thought, when man grew up enough to span the starways and meet with races such as Clonar’s? Would they ever mature enough to leave off war and conflict so that they could be accepted into the family of worlds that already possessed spaceflight?

  As intergalactic worlds went, Earth was probably a sprawling youngster, unhappy and bloody in its youthful tragedies. It would grow up. It was not the way Clonar’s commander had said.

  Ron felt a warm glow when he thought of the way his own crowd had understood Clonar—and the others in Longview who had done the same. They had met the challenge. Someday they would be in the majority.

  It didn’t matter that Mrs. Newton would never understand. It didn’t matter that Gillispie and his kind had to struggle hard against old values that would not fit the future. There were enough who could recognize the new values and not fight them. Even Gillispie could, in time, Ron thought. And millions like him.