Cubs of the Wolf

by Raymond F. Jones

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

  MARKOVIA]

  CUBS OF THE WOLF

  BY RAYMOND F. JONES

  _It may be that there is a weapon that, from the viewpoint of the one it's used on, is worse than lethal. You might say that death multiplies you by zero; what would multiplication by minus one do?_

  Illustrated by Rogers

  In the spring the cherry blossoms are heavy in the air over the campusof Solarian Institute of Science and Humanities. On a small slope thatrims the park area, Cameron Wilder lay on his back squinting through thecloud of pink-white petals to the sky beyond. Beside him, Joyce Farquhardrew her jacket closer with an irritated gesture. It was still too coldto be sitting on the grass, but Cameron didn't seem to notice it--oranything else, Joyce thought.

  "If you don't submit a subject for your thesis now," she said, "you'lltake another full six months getting your doctorate. Sometimes I thinkyou don't really want it!"

  Cameron stirred. He shifted his squinting gaze from the sky to Joyce andfinally sat up. But he was staring ahead through the trees again as hetook his pipe from his pocket and began filling it slowly.

  "I _don't_ want it if it's not going to mean anything after I get it,"he said belligerently. "I'm not going to do an investigation of somesilly subject like The Transience of Venusian Immigrants in Relation tothe Martian Polar Ice Cap Cycle. Solarian sociologists are the butt ofenough ridicule now. Do something like that and for the rest of yourlife you get knocking of the knees whenever anybody inquires about thespecialty you worked in and threatens to read your thesis."

  "Nobody's asking you to do anything you don't want to. But _you_ pickedthe field of sociology to work in. Now I don't see why you have to actsuch a purist that it takes months to find a research project for yourdegree. Pick something--anything!--I don't care what it is. But if youdon't get a degree and an appointment out of the next session I don'tthink we'll ever get married--not ever."

  Cameron removed his pipe from his mouth with a precise grip andconsidered it intently as it cupped in his hands. "I'm glad youmentioned marriage," he said. "I was just about to speak of it myself."

  "Well, don't!" said Joyce. "After three years--Three years!"

  He turned to face her and smiled for the first time. He liked to leadher along occasionally just to watch her explode, but he was not alwayssure when he had gone too far. Joyce had a mind like a snapping, randommatching calculator while he operated more on a slow, carefully shapinganalogue basis, knowing things were never quite what they seemed buttrying to get as close an approximation of the true picture as possible.

  "Will you marry me now?" he said.

  The question did not seem to startle her. "No degree, noappointment--and no chance of getting one--we couldn't even get alicense. I hope you aren't suggesting we try to get along without one,or on a forgery!"

  Cameron shook his head. "No, darling, this is a perfectly bona fideproposal, complete with license, appointment, the works--what do yousay?"

  "I say this spring sun is too much for you." She touched the dark massof his hair, warmed by the sun's rays, and put her head on his shoulder.She started to cry. "Don't tease me like that, Cameron. It seems likewe've been waiting forever--and there's still forever ahead of us. Youcan't do anything you want to--"

  Cameron put his arms about her, not caring if the whole Institutefaculty leaned out the windows to watch. "That's why you shouldappreciate being about to marry such a resourceful fellow," he said moregently. And now he dropped all banter. "I've been thinking about howlong it's been, too. That's why I decided to try to kill a couple ofsparrows with one pebble."

  Joyce sat up. "You aren't serious--?"

  Cameron sucked on his pipe once more. "Ever hear of the MarkovianNucleus?" he said thoughtfully.

  Joyce slowly nodded her head. "Oh, I think I've heard the namementioned," she murmured, "but nothing more than that."

  "I've asked for that as my research project."

  "But that's clear out of the galaxy--in Transpace!"

  "Yes, and obviously out of bounds for the ordinary graduate researcher.But because of the scholarship record I've been able to rack up here Itook a chance on applying to the Corning Foundation for a grant. Andthey decided to take a chance on me after considerable and not entirelypainless investigation. That's why you were followed around like asuspected Disloyalist for a month. My application included a provisionfor you to go along as my wife. Professor Fothergill notified me thismorning that the grant had been awarded."

  "Cam--" Joyce's voice was brittle now. "You aren't fooling me?"

  He gathered her in his arms again. "You think I would fool aboutsomething like that, darling? In a week you'll be Mrs. C. Wilder, and assoon as school is out, on your way to the Markovian Nucleus. Andbesides, it took me almost as much work preparing the researchprospectus as the average guy spends on his whole project!"

  * * * * *

  Sometimes Joyce Farquhar wished Cameron were a good deal different thanhe was. But then he wouldn't have been Cameron, and she wouldn't want tomarry him, she supposed. And somehow, while he fell behind on themid-stretch, he always managed to come in at the end with the rest ofthe field. Or just a little bit ahead of it.

  Or a good deal ahead of it. As now. It took her a few moments to realizethe magnitude of the coup he had actually pulled off. For weeks she hadbeen depressed because he refused to use some trivial, breeze researchto get his degree. He could have started it as much as a year ago, andthey could have been married now if he'd set himself up a real cinch.

  But now they were getting married anyway--and Cameron was getting thekind of research deal that would satisfy his frantic desire forintegrity in a world where it counted for little, and his wish tocontribute something genuine to the sociological understanding ofsentient creatures.

  Their marriage, as was customary, would be a cut and dried affair. Acall to the license bureau, receipt of formal sanction in the mail--shesupposed Cameron had already made application--and a little party with afew of their closest friends on the campus. She wished she had lived inthe days when getting married was much easier to do, and something tomake a fuss about.

  She stirred and sat up, loosening the jacket as the sun came from behinda puff of cloud. "You could have told me about this a long time ago,couldn't you?" she said accusingly.

  Cameron nodded. "I could have. But I didn't want to get false hopesaroused. I didn't have much hope the deal would actually go through,myself. I think Fothergill is pretty much responsible for it."

  "Transpace--" Joyce said dreamily. "Tell me about the Markovian Nucleus.Why is it important enough for a big research study, anyway?"

  "It's a case of a leopard who changed his spots," said Cameron. "Andnobody knows how or why. The full title of the project is A Study of theMetamorphosis of the Markovian Nucleus."

  "What happened? How are they any different from the way they used tobe?"

  "A hundred and fifty years ago the Markovians were the meanest,nastiest, orneriest specimens in the entire Council of GalacticAssociates. The groups of worlds in one corner of their galaxy, whichmake up the Nucleus, controlled a military force that outweighedanything the Council could possibly bring to bear against them.

  "With complete disregard of any scheme of interplanetary rules or orderthey harassed and attacked peaceful shipping and inoffensive culturesthroughout a wide territory. They were something demanding the Council'smilitary action. But the Council lacked the strength.

  "For years the Council dragged on, debating and threateningineffectively. But nothing was ever done. And then, so gradually it washardly noticed, the harassments began to die down.
The warlike posturingwas abandoned by the Markovians. Within a period of about seventy oreighty years there was a complete about-face. They wound up as goodIndians, peaceful, cooeperative and intelligent members of the Council."

  "Didn't anybody ever find out why?" asked Joyce.

  "No. Nobody _wanted_ to find out. In the early years the worlds of theCouncil were hiding behind their collective hands hoping with all theirmight that the threat might go away if they kept their eyes closed longenough. And by some miracle of all miracles, when they parted theirfingers for a scared glimpse, the threat _had_ disappeared.

  "When they could breathe a little more easily it seemed a foolish thingto bring out this old skeleton from the closet again, so a perpetualstate of hush was established. Finally, the whole thing was practicallyforgotten except for a short paragraph in an occasional history text.But no politician or historian has ever dared publicly to question themysterious why of the Markovian's about-face."

  "Sociologists should have done it long ago," said Joyce.

  "There was always the political pressure, of course," said Cameron. "Butthe real reason was simply our preoccupation with making bibliographiesof each others' papers. It's going to take a lot of leg work, somethingin which our formal courses don't give us any basic training. Fothergillunderstands that--it's why he pushed me so hard with the Foundation. AndRiley up there is capable of seeing it, too.

  "I showed him that here was a complex of at least a hundred and tenmajor planets, inhabited by a fairly homogenous, civilized people,speaking from a technological point of view at least. And almostovernight some force changed the entire cultural posture. I made him seethat identification of that force is of no small interest to us rightnow. If it operated once, it could operate again--and would its resultsbe as happy a second time?

  "Riley got the Foundation to kick through enough for you and me to makea start. A preliminary survey is about all it will amount to, actually,but if we show evidence of something tangible I'll get my degree, you'llget your basic certification--and we'll both return in charge of afull-scale inquiry with a staff big enough to really dig into thingsnext year.

  "Now--about this matter of marriage which you didn't want me to speakof--"

  "Keep talking, Cam--you're doing wonderfully!"

  * * * * *

  They got married at once, even though there were several weeks of schoolwhich had to be finished before they could leave. Among their friends onthe campus there were a good many whispered remarks about the insanityof Joyce and Cameron in planning such a fantastic excursion, but Joycewas certain there was as much envy as criticism in the eyes of herassociates. It might be true when they asserted that every conceivablesociological factor or combination of factors could be found andanalyzed right here in the Solar System, but a husband who could finaglea way to combine a honeymoon trip halfway across space with his graduateresearch thesis was a rare specimen. Joyce played her advantage for allit was worth.

  Two weeks before departure time, however, Cameron was called to theoffice of Professor Fothergill. As he entered he found a third manpresent, wearing a uniform he recognized at once as belonging to theCouncil Secretariat.

  "I'll wait outside," he said abruptly as Fothergill turned. "I got yourmessage and came right over. I didn't know--"

  "Sit down," said Fothergill. "Cameron, this is Mr. Ebbing, whoseposition you no doubt recognize. Mr. Ebbing, Mr. Wilder."

  The men shook hands and took seats across from each other. Fothergillsat between them at the polished table. "The Council, it seems, hasdeveloped an interest in your proposed research among the Markovians,"he said. "I'll let Mr. Ebbing tell you about it."

  Cameron felt a sinking anticipation within him as he turned to thesecretary. Surely the Council wasn't going to actively oppose theinvestigation after so long a time!

  The secretary coughed and shuffled the papers he drew from his case."It's not actually the Council's interest," he said, and Cameron wasimmediately relieved. "But I have been asked by the Markovian Nucleus,through their representative, to suggest that they would like to saveyou the long and unnecessary trip. He offers to co-operate to thefullest degree by causing all necessary materials to be transferred toyour site of study right here. He feels that this is the least they cando since so much interest appears to exist in the Nucleus."

  Cameron stared at the secretary, trying to discern what the man's ownattitude might be, but Ebbing gave no sign of playing it any way butstraight.

  "It sounds like a polite invitation to stay home and mind our ownbusiness," said Cameron finally. "They don't want company."

  The secretary's expression changed to acknowledgment of the correctappraisal. "They don't want any investigation into the Metamorphosis ofthe Markovian Nucleus. There is no such thing. It is entirely a myth."

  "Says the Markovians--!"

  Ebbing nodded. "Says the Markovians. Other worlds, both within andwithout the Council have persisted in spreading tales and rumors aboutthe Markovians for a long time. They don't like it. They are willing toco-operate in having a correct analysis of their culture published, butthey don't want any more of these infamous rumors circulated."

  "Then why aren't they willing to promote such an investigation? Thiswould be their big chance--if their ridiculous position were true!"

  "They _are_ willing. I've told you the representative has offered tosend you all needed material showing the status of their culture."

  Cameron looked at the secretary for a long time before speaking again."What's your position?" he asked finally. "Are we being ordered off theinvestigation?"

  "The Markovian representative doesn't want to go to quite that extreme.He knows that, too, would react unfavorably towards his people. Here'shis point: So far, he's blocked news of your proposed research gettingto his home worlds. But he knows that if you do carry it out in themanner you propose it is going to make a lot of the home folks mightyunhappy and they'll demand to know why he didn't stop it. So he's tryingto satisfy both sides at once."

  "Why will the people in the Nucleus be made unhappy by our coming?"

  "Because you'll go there trying to track down the basis for the rumorsthat defame the Markovian character. You'll bring forcibly to theirattention the fact that the rest of the Universe believes the Markoviansare basically a bunch of pirates."

  "And the Markovians don't like to hear these things?"

  "Definitely not."

  "So you tell me the research is not being forbidden, but that theMarkovians won't like it. Suppose I tell you, then, I'm not going togive up short of an order from the Council itself. But I am willing tocamouflage the investigation if necessary. I'll make no open mention ofwhat outside opinion says of the Markovians. I'll simply make a study oftheir history and character as it becomes available to me."

  Ebbing nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Cameron's face. "I would saythat would be eminently satisfactory," he said. "I will inform therepresentative of your decision."

  Then his face became more severe. "The Council will be pleased to learnof your willingness to be discreet. I wonder if you understand that theFoundation came to us upon receipt of your application, for officialclearance of the project. It coincided quite fortuitously with the plansof the Council itself. For a long time we have been concerned with thelack of information regarding the Markovian situation and have been at aloss as to how to improve our situation.

  "Your proposed investigation seemed the answer, but we anticipated theMarkovian objection and had to make certain you would co-operate to hissatisfaction. I believe this will do it."

  "Why is the Council concerned?" said Cameron. "Have the Markovianschanged their attitude in any way?"

  "No--but the rest of us remember, even though we don't speak of it, thatthe Nucleus was never punished for its depredations, nor was it everdefeated. Its strength is as great as ever in proportion to the otherCouncil worlds.

  "What are the chances and potentialities of the Nucleus worlds everag
ain becoming the marauders they once were? That is the question whichwe feel must be answered. Without knowing, we are sitting on a powderkeg in which the fuse may or may not be lighted. Will you bring us backthe answer we need?"

  Cameron felt a sudden grimness which had not been present before. "I'lldo all I can," he said soberly. "If the information is there I'll bringit back."

  * * * * *

  After the secretary had gone and Fothergill turned from the door torejoin him Cameron sat in faintly shocked consideration of the Council'sunexpected support. It took his research out of the realm of the purelysociological and projected it into politics and diplomacy. He waspleased by their confidence, but not cheered by the addedresponsibility.

  "That's a lucky break," said Fothergill enthusiastically, "and I'mbeginning to suspect you may be rather badly in need of all the breaksyou can get once you land among the Markovians. Don't forget for asingle minute that you are dealing with the sons and grandsons ofgenuine pirates."

  The professor sat down again. "There's one other little item of interestI turned up the other day. You