The Space Beagle sped three hundred light-years, and came to a small sun with two planets crowding up close to its cherry-red warmth. One of the two planets was habitable, and it also was a world of mists and jungles and saurianlike beasts. They left it, unexplored, after darting down low over a marshy sea and a land choked with riotous growth.
There were more stars now. They pinpointed the blackness of the next hundred and fifty light-years. A large blue-white sun, with a retinue of at least twenty planets, attracted Kent’s eye; and the swift ship flashed towards it. The seven planets nearest the sun were burning hells, without hope of supporting life. The ship spiralled past three close-together planets that were habitable, and then sped off to interstellar vastness without investigating the others.
Behind them, three steamy jungle planets whirled in their orbits around the hot sun that had spawned them. And, on board, Kent called a meeting of the heads of departments and their chief assistants.
He began the discussion without preamble. He said, “Personally, I don’t think the evidence is very significant as yet. But Lester has urgently requested me to call you.” He shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll learn something.”
He paused, and Grosvenor, watching him, was puzzled by a faint aura of satisfaction that radiated from the little man. He thought, What is he up to? It seemed odd that the Acting Director had taken the trouble to disclaim in advance all credit for any good results that might come from the meeting.
Kent was speaking again, and his tone was friendly. “Gunlie, will you come up here and explain yourself?”
The astronomer climbed to the lower platform. He was a man as tall and thin as Smith. He had eyes of royal blue set in an expressionless face. But there was a hint of emotion in his voice as he spoke.
“Gentlemen, the three habitable planets of that last system were identical triplets, and it was an artificially induced state. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the current theory regarding the formation of planetary systems. Those of you who are not will perhaps take my word for it that the distribution in mass in the system we have just visited is dynamically impossible. I can say definitely that two of the three habitable planets of that sun were moved into their present position. In my opinion we should go back and investigate. Somebody seems to be deliberately creating primeval planets; for what reason I don’t pretend to guess.”
He stopped and glared belligerently at Kent. The chemist came forward, a faint smile on his face. He said, “Gunlie came to me and asked me to order that we return to one of those jungle planets. In view of his feeling on the matter, I now call for a discussion, and a vote.”
So that was it. Grosvenor sighed, not exactly with admiration for Kent, but at least with appreciation. The Acting Director had made no attempt to build up a case for his opposition. It was quite possible that he did not really oppose the astronomer’s plan. But by calling a meeting when his own views would be overruled, he was proving that he regarded himself as subject to democratic procedure. It was an adroit if somewhat demagogic means of maintaining the good will of his supporters.
Actually, there were valid objections to Lester’s request. It was hard to believe that Kent knew of them, for that would mean he was deliberately ignoring possible danger for the ship. He decided to give Kent the benefit of the doubt, and waited patiently while several scientists asked the astronomer questions of minor importance. When those had been answered, when it seemed clear that the discussion was over except for himself, Grosvenor stood up and said, “I should like to argue in favor of Mr. Kent’s viewpoint in this matter.”
Kent replied coldly, “Really, Mr. Grosvenor, the attitude of the group seems to be indicated by the briefness of the discussion so far, and taking up any more time—”
At that point, he stopped. The real meaning of Grosvenor’s words must finally have penetrated. A thunderstruck expression came into his face. He made an uncertain gesture toward the others, as if appealing for help. When no one spoke, he dropped his arm to his side and muttered, “Mr. Grosvenor, you have the floor.”
Grosvenor said firmly, “Mr. Kent is right: It is too soon. So far we have visited three planetary systems. It should be not less than thirty, taken at random. This is the minimum number, with respect to the order of magnitude of our search, that could have any conclusive significance. I shall be glad to turn over my mathematics to the mathematics department for corroboration. Moreover, in landing we would have to come out from inside our protective energy screen. We would have to be prepared to resist a surprise attack by an intelligence that can use the instantaneous medium of hyperspace to deliver his forces. I have a mental picture of a billion tons of matter projected down upon us as we sit helpless on some planet. Gentlemen, as I see it, there is a good month or two of detailed preparation ahead of us. During that time, naturally, we should visit as many suns as we can. If their habitable planets also are exclusively—or even predominantly—the primeval type, then we shall have a sound basis for Mr. Lester’s idea that it is an artificial state.” Grosvenor paused, then finished. “Mr. Kent, have I expressed what you had in mind?”
Kent had full control of himself again. “Almost precisely, Mr. Grosvenor.” He glanced about him. “Unless there are any further comments, I move that we vote on Gunlie’s proposal.”
The astronomer stood up. “I withdraw it,” he said, “I confess I hadn’t considered some of the points against an early landing.” He sat down.
Kent hesitated, then said, “If someone cares to take up Gunlie’s proposal . . .” When, after several seconds, no one had spoken, Kent continued confidently. “I want each department head to prepare for me a detailed account of what he can contribute to the success of the landing we must eventually make. That’s all, gentlemen.”
In the corridor outside the control room, Grosvenor felt a hand on his arm. He turned and recognized McCann, the chief geologist. McCann said, “We’ve been so busy doing repair work this last few months that I haven’t had a chance to invite you to come to my department. I anticipate that when we finally make a landing, the equipment of the geology department will be used for purposes for which it was not precisely intended. A Nexialist could come in very handy.”
Grosvenor considered that, then nodded his acceptance. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning. I want to prepare my recommendations for the Acting Director.”
McCann looked at him quickly, hesitated, and then said, “You don’t think he’ll be interested, do you?”
So others had noticed Kent’s dislike of him. Grosvenor said slowly, “Yes, because he won’t have to give individual credit.”
McCann nodded, “Well, good luck to you, my boy.”
He was turning away when Grosvenor stopped him. Grosvenor said, “What, in your opinion, is the basis for Kent’s popularity as a leader?”
McCann hesitated, and seemed to be deliberating. Finally he said, “He’s human. He has likes and dislikes. He gets excited about things. He has a bad temper. He makes mistakes, and tries to pretend that he didn’t. He’s desperately anxious to be director. When the ship gets back to Earth, the publicity will flow around the executive officer. There’s something of Kent in all of us. He’s—well—he’s a human being.”
“I notice,” said Grosvenor, “you didn’t say anything about his qualifications for the job.”
“It’s not a vital position, generally speaking. He can get advice from experts on anything he wants to know.” McCann pursed his lips. “It’s hard to put Kent’s appeal into words, but I think that scientists are constantly on the defensive about their alleged unfeeling intellectualism. So they like to have someone fronting for them who is emotional but whose scientific qualifications cannot be questioned.”
Grosvenor shook his head. “I disagree with you about the director’s job not being vital. It all depends on the individual as to how he exercises the very considerable authority involved.”
McCann studied him shrewdly. He said finally, “Strictly logical men like
you have always had a hard time understanding the mass appeal of the Kents. They haven’t much chance against his type, politically.”
Grosvenor smiled grimly. “It’s not their devotion to the scientific method that defeats the technologists. It’s their integrity. The average trained man often understands the tactics that are used against him better than the person who uses them, but he cannot bring himself to retaliate in kind without feeling tarnished.”
McCann frowned. “That’s too pat. Do you mean you have no such qualms?”
Grosvenor was silent.
McCann persisted. “Suppose you decided that Kent ought to be ousted, what would you do?”
“At the moment my thoughts are quite constitutional,” Grosvenor said carefully.
Grosvenor was surprised to see that there was relief in McCann’s expression. The older man gripped his arm in a friendly gesture. “I’m glad to hear your intentions are legal,” he said earnestly. “Ever since that lecture you gave, I’ve realized what hasn’t yet dawned on anyone else—that you are potentially the most dangerous man on this ship. The integrated knowledge you have in your mind, applied with determination and purpose, could be more disastrous than any outside attack.”
After a moment of astonishment, Grosvenor shook his head. “That is an overstatement,” he said. “One man is too easy to kill.”
“I notice,” said McCann, “you don’t deny possessing the knowledge.”
Grosvenor held out his hand in farewell. “Thanks for your high opinion of me. Although considerably exaggerated, it’s psychologically uplifting.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The thirty-first star they visited was Sol-size, Sol-type. Of its three planets, one followed an orbit of eighty million miles. Like all the other habitable worlds they had seen, it was a steaming jungle and primeval sea.
The Space Beagle settled through its gaseous envelope of air and water vapor, and began to fly along at a low level, a great alien ball of metal in a fantastic land.
In the geology laboratory, Grosvenor watched a bank of instruments that metered the nature of the terrain below. It was a complex job which demanded the closest attention, since much of the interpretation of the data called for the associative processes of a highly trained mind. The constant stream of reflexions of the ultrasonic and short-wave signals being sent out had to be channelled into the proper computing devices at precisely the right time for comparative analysis. To the standard techniques with which McCann was familiar, Grosvenor had added certain refinements in accordance with Nexial principles, and an amazingly complete picture of the planet’s outer crust was being tabulated.
For an hour Grosvenor sat there, deeply involved in his educated guesswork. The facts emerging varied widely in detail, but consideration of molecular structure, arrangement and distribution of the different elements indicated a certain geologic sameness: mud, sandstone, clay, granite, organic debris—probably coal deposits—silicates in the form of sand overlying rock, water—
Several needles on the dials before him swung over sharply and held steady. Their reaction showed indirectly the presence of metallic iron in large quantities with traces of carbon, molybdenum—
Steel! Grosvenor snatched at a lever which precipitated a series of events. A bell started to ring. McCann came running. The ship stopped. A few feet from Grosvenor, McCann began to talk to Acting Director Kent.
“Yes, Director,” he was saying, “steel, not just iron ore.” He did not mention Grosvenor by name, but went on, “We set our instruments at a hundred feet maximum. This could be a city buried—or hidden—in a jungle mud.”
Kent said matter-of-factly, “We’ll know in a few days.”
Cautiously, the ship was kept well above the surface, and the necessary equipment was lowered through a temporary gap in its energy screen. Giant shovels, cranes, mobile conveyors were set up, along with supplementary devices. So carefully had everything been rehearsed that thirty minutes after the ship started to disgorge material it was again heading out into space.
The entire excavating job was done by remote control. Trained men watched the scene in communicator plates and operated the machines on the ground. In four days, the highly integrated mass of implements had dug a hole two hundred and fifty feet deep by four hundred feet wide and eight hundred feet long. What was exposed then was not so much a city as the incredible rubble of what had been a city.
The buildings looked as if they had crumpled under the weight of a burden too great for them to carry. The street level was at the full two-hundred-and-fifty-foot depth, and there they began to turn up bones. Cease-digging orders were given, and several lifeboats made their way down through the muggy atmosphere. Grosvenor went along with McCann, and presently he was standing with several other scientists beside what was left of one of the skeletons.
“Rather badly crushed,” said Smith. “But I think I can piece it together.”
His trained fingers arranged bones into a rough design. “Four-legged,” he said. He brought a fluoroscopic device to bear on one of the limbs. He said presently, “This one seems to have been dead about twenty-five years.”
Grosvenor turned away. The shattered relics that lay around might hold the secret of the fundamental physical character of a vanished race. But it was unlikely that the skeletons held any clue to the identity of the unimaginably merciless beings who had murdered them. These were the pitiful victims, not the arrogant and deadly destroyers.
He made his way gingerly to where McCann was examining soil dug up from the street itself. The geologist said, “I think we’ll be justified in taking a stratigraphical survey from here on down several hundred feet.”
At his word, a drill crew sprang into action. During the next hour, as the machine tore its way through rock and clay, Grosvenor was kept busy. A steady trickle of soil samplings passed under his eyes. Occasionally, he put a bit of rock or earth through a chemical-breakdown process. By the time the lifeboats headed back to the parent ship, McCann was in a position to give a fairly accurate generalized report to Kent. Grosvenor stayed out of the receptive field of the communicator plate while McCann gave the report.
“Director, you will recall that I was particularly asked to check if this could be an artificial jungle planet. It seems to be. The strata below the mud appears to be that of an older, less primitive planet. It is hard to believe that a layer of jungle could have been skimmed from some distant planet and superimposed on this one, but the evidence points in that direction.”
Kent said, “What about the city itself? How was it destroyed?”
“We have made a few of the calculations, and we can say cautiously that the enormous weight of rock and soil and water could have done all the damage we saw.”
“Have you found any evidence to indicate how long ago this catastrophe took place?”
“We have a little geomorphological data. In several places we examined, the new surface has formed depressions in the old one, indicating that the extra weight is forcing down weaker areas below. By identifying the type of land fault that would sag under such circumstances, we have some figures that we intend to feed into a computing machine. A competent mathematician”—he meant Grosvenor—“has roughly estimated that the pressure of the weight was first applied not more than a hundred years ago.
Since geology deals in events that require thousands and millions of years to mature, all the machine can do is to check the manual calculation. It cannot give us a closer estimate.”
There was a pause, and then Kent said formally, “Thank you. I feel that you and your staff have done a good job. One more question: In your investigation, did you find anything that might be a clue to the nature of the intelligence that could bring about such a cataclysmic destruction?”
“Speaking only for myself, without having consulted with my assistants—no!”
It was, Grosvenor reflected, just as well that McCann had so carefully limited his denial. For the geologist, the investigation of this planet
was the beginning of the search for the enemy. For himself, it had proved to be the final link in a chain of discovery and reasoning that had started when they first began to hear the strange murmurings in space.
He knew the identity of the most monstrous alien intelligence conceivable. He could guess its terrible purpose. He had carefully analyzed what must be done.
His problem was no longer: What is the danger? He had reached the stage where he needed, above all, to put over his solution without compromise. Unfortunately, men who had knowledge of only one or two sciences might not be able, or even willing, to comprehend the potentialities of the deadliest danger that had ever confronted all the life of the entire inter-galactic universe. The solution itself might become the center of a violent controversy.
Accordingly Grosvenor saw the problem as both political and scientific. He analyzed, with a sharp awareness of the possible nature of the forthcoming struggle, that his tactics must be carefully thought out and carried through with the utmost determination.
It was too soon to decide how far he would have to go. But it seemed to him that he dared not place any limitation upon his actions. He would do what was necessary.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
When he was ready to act, Grosvenor wrote a letter to Kent:
Acting Director
Administrative Offices
Expeditionary Ship Space Beagle
DEAR MR. KENT:
I have an important communication to make to all heads of departments. The communication relates to the alien intelligence of this galaxy, about the nature of which I have accumulated evidence adequate for action on the largest scale.
Space Beagle- the Complete Adventures Page 30
