Sutton Jean Sutton Jeff

by The Programmed Man

  The Programmed Man -- Jean and Jeff Sutton -- (1968)

  (Version 2002.10.26 -- Done)

  For Chris and Gale

  1

  HIS EYES held the slant of Achernar.

  The whites were not white, but were a muddy blue shade peculiar to the descendants of the Terrans who over a hundred generations before had colonized the three worlds of that bluish sun, which lay deep in the heart of the constellation Eridani. In all else Corden Hull, captain of the Empire destroyer Draco, seemed an ordinary Earthling. Stocky, grizzled, crowding fifty, he had the leathery skin of a man who'd experienced the radiations of a thousand suns.

  That was how he struck Daniel York at first glance. On the reasonable assumption that an outworlder would not command a destroyer of the line without unusual qualities, York looked closer and saw what he should have noticed earlier, were it not for the odd bluish light to which his own eyes had not yet become accustomed. If the rest of the ship -- or as much of it as he had seen -- were lighted normally, not so Hull's cabin. It was as if, in his own retreat, he maintained the glow of the sun under which he had been born. If Hull's eyes were muddy blue, they also were the most penetrating eyes York had ever seen. Sharp, hard, analytical, they gave no clue to the thoughts behind them. Neither did the square-set face. He noticed also Hull's speech. Algol, Denebola, Mirach -- the dialects of scores of sun-planets tinged his words, almost lost in the broader slur of Casserom, the Achernar world from whence, long ago, he had come.

  Hull was saying, "I am sorry, Mr. York, but Navy regulations prohibit the transport of civilians except under conditions of extreme emergency. I know you must appreciate that."

  York measured him in the deep bluish light, wondering how hard he would be to convince. Bluntly he said, "That's why I'm here -- an emergency." His ears caught the sounds of banging hatches and creaking winches as the Draco prepared to lift from Upi, the sole planet of the midge sun Blackett on which this far-flung military outpost stood -- a sentinel on the galactic rim.

  The captain watched him speculatively. It struck York that were Hull Earth-born, he undoubtedly would be commanding an N-ship instead of a destroyer at the ragged fringes of space. True, the Draco carried long-range lasers, cobalt warheads, nucleonic bolts -- all the conventional weapons -- but not the dread N-bomb. By unwritten Empire law, only a born Earthling could command an N-ship. In short, the Draco couldn't nova a sun.

  When the Draco's captain maintained his silence, York said, "My authorization's signed by Admiral Borenhall. Or isn't the Admiral of the Tenth Sector high enough?"

  Hull disregarded the sarcasm. "I've given you the regulations, Mr. York."

  "And I've shown you my authorization."

  "I've queried on your credentials," Hull admitted, "but we can't delay for an answer. We have our own emergency. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

  York grimaced at the sound of a supply derrick rolling back. He had no intention of remaining on Upi. Keeping his face emotionless, he persisted. "My authorization from Admiral Borenhall is in the nature of an order."

  "Admiral Borenhall commands the Tenth Sector," replied Hull. "When in the Tenth Sector, I am under his command. At all other times I am subject only to the orders of the Admiral of the Galactic Seas." His voice turned glacial. "This is one of those times."

  "I am traveling on Empire business," York objected.

  "Not that I can see." Hull looked past him at the hulking figure lounging just inside the doorway. Lieutenant Tregaski -- the captain had introduced him earlier. "Lieutenant, would you kindly escort Mr. York from the ship?"

  "With pleasure," replied Tregaski.

  As Tregaski stepped forward, York said harshly, "You're forcing me." He saw the captain stiffen as he reached into an inner pocket, at the same time aware that Tregaski had stepped into position directly behind him. York didn't have to be psychic to know that Tregaski held a stun gun. Gingerly removing a card from his wallet, he held it out for Hull to read.

  "Empire Intelligence." Hull murmured the words quietly, yet somehow his voice betrayed doubt and wonder.

  "That is in confidence." York contemplated the captain calmly. If the Empire's galactic Navy were the instrument that kept over two thousand inhabited planets living in controlled harmony, it was the shadowy Empire Intelligence that nipped discord in the bud, kept the Empire intact. Without E.I., as it was called, the restless worlds of the Alphan suns would long since have challenged the Empire's yoke, N-bomb or no N-bomb. Prince Li-Hu of the Alphan world Shan-Hai, who traced his ancestry back in an unbroken line to the emperors of the ancient Earth nation of China, had both feet planted squarely in the middle of the captain's present emergency, even though Hull didn't know that.

  Hull glanced up from the credentials, remarking, "That doesn't change a thing."

  "Flaunting the authority of Empire Intelligence, to say nothing of your own commanding officer?" asked York wonderingly.

  "Authority that's residual in a card?" snapped Hull. "How do I know that you're Daniel York?"

  "By my knowledge."

  "What knowledge?"

  "Your rush to push the Draco into space," replied York. "You were slated to remain on Upi for another week. Now you're rushing under secret orders."

  "Keep talking, Mr. York, and you might wind up on a detention world."

  "No, thanks." York leaned forward and said deliberately, "The N-bomb cruiser Rigel is missing. First Level picked up a distress call from the region of Ophiucus. That was two days ago. Since then there hasn't been a word. Lost -- one N-cruiser. That's your emergency."

  "That knowledge is restricted to First Level -- "

  "And to the captain of the Draco because you happen to be nearest the scene," cut in York.

  "You know too much."

  "That should prove my credentials," countered York coldly. Despite the stakes, the bout with the Draco's captain was the kind of cat-and-mouse game he liked -- as long as he was the cat.

  Hull said pointedly, "So far you've produced two sets of credentials, Mr. York. You came aboard as Daniel York, inspector for the Empire Bureau of Colonial Planets and, for some reason, an order supposedly signed by Admiral Borenhall. Now suddenly you're E.I." He leaned slightly forward. "Tell me, Mr. York, just who are you?"

  York grinned and said, "E.I."

  "I don't know that."

  "You also don't know that the Rigel was sabotaged," York boldly challenged.

  "No..." Hull breathed the word slowly, a startled look crossing his face. Abruptly he straightened. "There hasn't been a case of sabotage in over three centuries."

  "The record just fell," declared York.

  "I can't believe that!"

  "The Rigel was sabotaged -- captured, if you will -- and forced to land somewhere in the Ophiucus region for the purpose of stealing the N-bomb. And Prince Li-Hu is in back of it, Captain. Make no mistake about that."

  "Impossible!"

  "I would have agreed with you last week," York said calmly, "but that's last week." He spread his hands. "The Empire is maintained only through sole possession of the N-bomb. Its existence -- monopoly, if you will -- is the Empire's guarantee of solidarity. No world is apt to rebel against a power which could nova its sun, Captain."

  "You don't sound particularly sympathetic."

  "Practical," answered York. "We live by the sword, but we don't want to perish by it."

  Hull retorted stiffly, "There's no danger of that."

  "No?" York regarded him bemusedly. "Would you care to be responsible for the bomb falling into Prince Li-Hu's hands?"

  "The Alphans are loyal," replied Hull brusquely. "I have several in my crew."

  "So
did the Rigel."

  "What you say amounts to an accusation, York."

  "It does," he answered.

  "No planetary government would dare use the bomb. That's if they could steal it, which they couldn't."

  "Correct, but neither would the Empire use it -- not if the ability to retaliate existed." York heard the sound of closing hatches and restrained his impatience. "Once the bomb is out of Empire hands, its power is negated. You can see what that means, Captain. With that fear removed, you'd see a dozen revolts overnight."

  "I fail to see that, Mr. York."

  "You are a military man, Captain. To you war means laser beams, nucleonic bolts, the burst of cobalt bombs."

  Hull asked coldly, "What does it mean to you?"

  "Plotting, espionage, murder -- men in high places conniving for power." He held the captain's gaze. "A knife in the back can win or topple an empire as quickly as a cobalt bomb, and with far less mess. History's filled with such fallen empires," he finished.

  "You make a dramatic case of it," the captain observed.

  "Dramatic? Presto" -- York snapped his fingers -- "and one N-cruiser is gone. Yes, I believe you might call it dramatic."

  Hull leaned toward him. "There could be but three or four -- half a dozen at most -- Alphans aboard the Rigel. Do you believe that such a small group could take over an N-ship?"

  "I do."

  "And what would they do with the bomb?" Hull sat back, a faint gleam of triumph in his eyes. "No unfriendly ship could get within fifty light-years of the Ophiucus sector, York. The Navy would see to that. They couldn't return it."

  "It's not a matter of could but how," corrected York. "My job is to find the how and prevent it."

  Hull drummed his fingers on the desk. "You seem certain that this is an Alphan plot."

  "Most certain, Captain."

  "Yet all we know is that the ship sent a distress signal and disappeared. Have you ever considered that it might have suffered an explosion or is disabled? It appears quite probable to me."

  "The E.I. people are suspicious characters," replied York. "We lack the lofty ideals they dispense in your space academies."

  "No doubt." Hull glanced at the lieutenant before switching back his gaze, the mud-blue eyes resting on the agent's face. "You appear determined to make traitors of the Alphans."

  "Prince Li-Hu, to be specific."

  "You have proof?"

  "Not absolute," admitted York. He smiled disarmingly. "You might call him a good candidate. Excellent, in fact."

  "If what you say is true, I could name perhaps better candidates."

  "I'd be interested," York admitted.

  "The Zuman worlds."

  "The outcast worlds?" York shook his head slowly. "Not guilty, Captain."

  "Do you know my job, the job of this base?"

  "Of course. To seal off the Zuman worlds."

  "Yet you deny they're good candidates?" Hull's voice rose. "They're freaks, mutants, a race deformed by the light of its hellish sun. I wouldn't be here if they weren't a danger. Do you know they've put Out feelers to rejoin the Empire?"

  "I know that."

  "It's to their advantage to get the N-bomb, York. It would, as you say, negate the weapon, or at least give them good bargaining power. But I also happen to know that they'll never be accepted into the Empire. That makes them desperate."

  "Never is a long time, Captain." York returned his gaze, knowing the thoughts behind those mud-blue eyes. The Zuman sun, riding deep beyond the rim of the galaxy, was an outcast star. Flaring with a violet light that periodically turned scarlet, it was an anomaly among the billion stars of Terra's universe. Its planets colonized during the fifth migration less than seventy generations before, it had been cut off from all trade and travel once it was discovered that the violet radiation -- or was it scarlet? -- deformed and re-formed human genes. Freaks had walked its four planets, and geniuses. And then true mutants. Telepaths! No sane government or society could exist with telepaths in its midst, or so it was claimed. Since then destroyers of the Empire's Navy had sealed off the Zuman worlds from the rest of mankind as effectively as if they existed in another universe.

  "You sound sympathetic toward them," observed Hull. The mud-blue eyes probed York's face.

  "Not particularly," he answered. "The E.I. sees things differently."

  "How different?"

  "The E.I. shuttles agents there regularly."

  "You've been there?" Hull looked startled.

  "Several times. Mainly the planet Korth. I can't say that I find people there much different from people anywhere."

  "That's not the Empire's view," Hull returned stiffly.

  "Not officially."

  "The E.I. view, perhaps?"

  "Personal view," corrected York.

  "Freaks and mutants?" Hull raised his eyes.

  "The danger is in our minds," York said quietly.

  "I can't follow that reasoning, Mr. York. Not at all. If they're not dangerous now, it's because they're impotent. We've pulled their fangs by sealing them off. Would we have done that were it not necessary? It is, believe me."

  "You've been indoctrinated to that view, Captain."

  "Indoctrinated?" Hull straightened stiffly, his eyes narrowing.

  York said casually, "Don't let it bother you, Captain. We're all indoctrinated. It's part of the system."

  "You speak strangely for an E.I. agent," Hull accused.

  "Perhaps it's because I've been around."

  Hull leaned forward. "You say the Zumans are much like other people. Do you really believe that? We know that many of them are telepaths, and some perhaps worse -- "

  "Worse?" interrupted York.

  "We've had rumors of other twists."

  "Perhaps you mean the teleports." York nodded amiably. "It's not a rumor, Captain. It's a fact."

  "You know that?" demanded Hull.

  He nodded. "I've witnessed it."

  "How could you be there without their knowing, if they're telepaths?"

  "A trade secret, Captain, but I can tell you this: An agent destined for one of the Zuman worlds is trained a long time. Not many agents have the chance. I was fortunate."

  "I wouldn't say so," contradicted Hull. "I wouldn't venture into that snake pit for anything."

  "Your education suffers," returned York.

  "You believe so?" Hull gritted his teeth and said, "If I had my way, we'd use the N-bomb on them, York. We'd wipe out that damned violet sun and its four devilish planets. You know why? Because if we don't, they'll break out someday, break out and spread throughout the universe. Then where would the Empire be?"

  "The same place, but with a different set of rulers," York contended. "Who knows, we might even get some sense in government."

  "You talk dangerously," warned Hull.

  "Dangerously?" York smiled. "We're free men, Captain. The Empire's constitution proclaims it. Could I be free if I couldn't give vent to my thoughts?"

  "From thought to overtness is but a single step," Hull replied sternly.

  "A military maxim, Captain. And if you're dealing in maxims, you might try this: None is so blind as he who won't see."

  Hull leaned back and asked curiously, "Do your superiors subscribe to those beliefs, Mr. York? Does August Karsh?" Karsh, as longtime E.I. director, was the Empire's acknowledged spy-master.

  York didn't avoid the strange eyes. Looking Hull full in the face, he said, "I can't speak for another man's thoughts, but I do know that Karsh wants his agents informed. You get that by exposure, Captain. Every time I return from a strange world, I find myself with fresh viewpoints."

  "Informed!" Hull spat the word.

  As if he hadn't heard, York continued. "Some of the exposure affirms the Empire's justice, but much of it denies it. Does it make me suspect to say that? In your eyes, probably, yet the sum total is that I have a better understanding, am able to do better work. Your answe
r is the N-bomb. But the answer is a futile one because it will never come to pass. You can't hold the Empire together by dream solutions, you know."

  The captain reddened. "Please don't presume to tell me what to think, Mr. York."

  "I'm not," York declared cheerfully. "I'm merely answering your question."

  Hull lifted his head abruptly as a knock came at the door. He nodded, and Tregaski admitted a crewman, who saluted stiffly and said, "The watch officer reports all loading completed, sir."

  "Very well." Hull glanced at his watch. "Have him prepare for immediate lift-off."

  "Yes, sir." As the crewman wheeled and departed, Hull gazed thoughtfully at the agent. York returned his look without expression, wondering how much the captain believed of what he had told him. He smiled inwardly, thinking he believed most of it himself.

  Hull said slowly, "You've placed me in somewhat of a predicament, York."

  "Nothing you can't solve." He suppressed a quick jubilation, knowing that he'd won. He knew far too much for Hull to put him off the ship.

  "I have decided to allow you to remain aboard," Hull finally declared. "I must warn you that you will be restricted to the officers' living quarters except when under escort."

  "I won't abuse the privilege," returned York.

  Hull gauged him with keen eyes. "What do you expect to accomplish?"

  "The saboteurs wouldn't have risked disabling the Rigel in such a remote area as Ophiucus without means of getting the secret of the N-bomb to their masters," he explained. "My job is to prevent that."

  "If there are saboteurs, they will have short shrift," Hull promised bleakly.

  "Perhaps." York straightened, feeling the tautness drain from his body. "That should settle our immediate problem."

  Hull stared at him. "I don't mind saying, Mr. York, I have a number of questions in my mind."

  "If I can be of help -- "

  "No, thanks," answered Hull drily. He glanced at Tregaski. "Lieutenant, if you'd provide Mr. York with quarters..."

  2

  IN THE dream he was being torn to shreds, not physically but in his mind, atom by atom, probed, plucked and dissected until every thought stood as bare as the bleached bones of a whale on a desert beach. A glaring light shone mercilessly into his eyes, masking the source of the voice that intoned, "You will...You will..."