The Randall Garrett Megapack

by Randall Garrett

  Tallis lay against one wall, looking very limp. MacMaine half staggered over to him and knelt down. Tallis was still alive.

  The centrifugal force caused by the spinning ship gave an effective pull of less than one Earth gravity, but the weird twists caused by the Coriolis forces made motion and orientation difficult. Besides, the ship was spinning slightly on her long axis as well as turning end-for-end.

  MacMaine stood there for a moment, trying to think. He had expected to die. Death was something he had known was inevitable from the moment he made his decision to leave Earth. He had not known how or when it would come, but he had known that it would come soon. He had known that he would never live to collect the reward he had demanded of the Kerothi for “faithful service.” Traitor he might be, but he was still honest enough with himself to know that he would never take payment for services he had not rendered.

  Now death was very near, and Sebastian MacMaine almost welcomed it. He had no desire to fight it. Tallis might want to stand and fight death to the end, but Tallis was not carrying the monstrous weight of guilt that would stay with Sebastian MacMaine until his death, no matter how much he tried to justify his actions.

  On the other hand, if he had to go, he might as well do a good job of it. Since he still had a short time left, he might as well wrap the whole thing up in a neat package. How?

  Again, his intuitive ability to see pattern gave him the answer long before he could have reasoned it out.

  They will know, he thought, but they will never be sure they know. I will be immortal. And my name will live forever, although no Earthman will ever again use the surname MacMaine or the given name Sebastian.

  He shook his head to clear it. No use thinking like that now. There were things to be done.

  * * * *

  Tallis first. MacMaine made his way over to one of the emergency medical kits that he knew were kept in every compartment of every ship. One of the doors of a wall locker hung open, and the blue-green medical symbol used by the Kerothi showed darkly in the dim light that came from the three unshattered glow plates in the ceiling. He opened the kit, hoping that it contained something equivalent to adhesive tape. He had never inspected a Kerothi medical kit before. Fortunately, he could read Kerothi. If a military government was good for nothing else, at least it was capable of enforcing a simplified phonetic orthography so that words were pronounced as they were spelled. And—

  He forced his wandering mind back to his work. The blow on the head, plus the crazy effect the spinning was having on his inner ears, plus the cockeyed gravitational orientation that made his eyes feel as though they were seeing things at two different angles, all combined to make for more than a little mental confusion.

  There was adhesive tape, all right. Wound on its little spool, it looked almost homey. He spent several minutes winding the sticky plastic ribbon around Tallis’ wrists and ankles.

  Then he took the gun from the Kerothi general’s sleeve holster—he had never been allowed one of his own—and, holding it firmly in his right hand, he went on a tour of the ship.

  It was hard to move around. The centrifugal force varied from point to point throughout the ship, and the corridors were cluttered with debris that seemed to move with a life of its own as each piece shifted slowly under the effects of the various forces working on it. And, as the various masses moved about, the rate of spin of the ship changed as the law of conservation of angular momentum operated. The ship was full of sliding, clattering, jangling noises as the stuff tried to find a final resting place and bring the ship to equilibrium.

  He found the door to Ossif’s cabin open and the room empty. He found Ossif in Loopat’s cabin, trying to get the younger officer to his feet.

  Ossif saw MacMaine at the door and said: “You’re alive! Good! Help me——” Then he saw the gun in MacMaine’s hand and stopped. It was the last thing he saw before MacMaine shot him neatly between the eyes.

  Loopat, only half conscious, never even knew he was in danger, and the blast that drilled through his brain prevented him from ever knowing anything again in this life.

  Like a man in a dream, MacMaine went on to Hokotan’s cabin, his weapon at the ready. He was rather pleased to find that the HQ general was already quite dead, his neck broken as cleanly as if it had been done by a hangman. Hardly an hour before, MacMaine would cheerfully have shot Hokotan where it would hurt the most and watch him die slowly. But the memory of Hokotan’s honest apology made the Earthman very glad that he did not have to shoot the general at all.

  There remained only the five-man crew, the NCO technician and his gang, who actually ran the ship. They would be at the tail of the ship, in the engine compartment. To get there, he had to cross the center of spin of the ship, and the change of gravity from one direction to another, decreasing toward zero, passing the null point, and rising again on the other side, made him nauseous. He felt better after his stomach had emptied itself.

  Cautiously, he opened the door to the drive compartment and then slammed it hard in sudden fear when he saw what had happened. The shielding had been torn away from one of the energy converters and exposed the room to high-energy radiation. The crewmen were quite dead.

  The fear went away as quickly as it had come. So maybe he’d dosed himself with a few hundred Roentgens—so what? A little radiation never hurt a dead man.

  But he knew now that there was no possibility of escape. The drive was wrecked, and the only other means of escape, the one-man courier boat that every blaster-boat carried, had been sent out weeks ago and had never returned.

  If only the courier boat were still in its cradle—

  MacMaine shook his head. No. It was better this way. Much better.

  He turned and went back to the dining cabin where Tallis was trussed up. This time, passing the null-gee point didn’t bother him much at all.

  * * * *

  Tallis was moaning a little and his eyelids were fluttering by the time MacMaine got back. The Earthman opened the medical kit again and looked for some kind of stimulant. He had no knowledge of medical or chemical terms in Kerothic, but there was a box of glass ampoules bearing instructions to “crush and allow patient to inhale fumes.” That sounded right.

  The stuff smelled like a mixture of spirits of ammonia and butyl mercaptan, but it did the job. Tallis coughed convulsively, turned his head away, coughed again, and opened his eyes. MacMaine tossed the stinking ampoule out into the corridor as Tallis tried to focus his eyes.

  “How do you feel?” MacMaine asked. His voice sounded oddly thick in his own ears.

  “All right. I’m all right. What happened?” He looked wonderingly around. “Near miss? Must be. Anyone hurt?”

  “They’re all dead but you and me,” MacMaine said.

  “Dead? Then we’d better——” He tried to move and then realized that he was bound hand and foot. The sudden realization of his position seemed to clear his brain completely. “Sepastian, what’s going on here? Why am I tied up?”

  “I had to tie you,” MacMaine explained carefully, as though to a child. “There are some things I have to do yet, and I wouldn’t want you to stop me. Maybe I should have just shot you while you were unconscious. That would have been kinder to both of us, I think. But…but, Tallis, I had to tell somebody. Someone else has to know. Someone else has to judge. Or maybe I just want to unload it on someone else, someone who will carry the burden with me for just a little while. I don’t know.”

  “Sepastian, what are you talking about?” The Kerothi’s face shone dully orange in the dim light, his bright green eyes looked steadily at the Earthman, and his voice was oddly gentle.

  “I’m talking about treason,” said MacMaine. “Do you want to listen?”

  “I don’t have much choice, do I?” Tallis said. “Tell me one thing first: Are we going to die?”

  “You are, Tallis. But I won’t. I’m going to be immortal.”

  Tallis looked at him for a long moment. Then, “All right, Sepa
stian. I’m no psych man, but I know you’re not well. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. But first, untie my hands and feet.”

  “I can’t do that, Tallis. Sorry. But if our positions were reversed, I know what I would do to you when I heard the story. And I can’t let you kill me, because there’s something more that has to be done.”

  Tallis knew at that moment that he was looking at the face of Death. And he also knew that there was nothing whatever he could do about it. Except talk. And listen.

  “Very well, Sepastian,” he said levelly. “Go ahead. Treason, you say? How? Against whom?”

  “I’m not quite sure,” said Sebastian MacMaine. “I thought maybe you could tell me.”

  THE REASON

  “Let me ask you one thing, Tallis,” MacMaine said. “Would you do anything in your power to save Keroth from destruction? Anything, no matter how drastic, if you knew that it would save Keroth in the long run?”

  “A foolish question. Of course I would. I would give my life.”

  “Your life? A mere nothing. A pittance. Any man could give his life. Would you consent to live forever for Keroth?”

  Tallis shook his head as though he were puzzled. “Live forever? That’s twice or three times you’ve said something about that. I don’t understand you.”

  “Would you consent to live forever as a filthy curse on the lips of every Kerothi old enough to speak? Would you consent to be a vile, inhuman monster whose undead spirit would hang over your homeland like an evil miasma for centuries to come, whose very name would touch a flame of hatred in the minds of all who heard it?”

  “That’s a very melodramatic way of putting it,” the Kerothi said, “but I believe I understand what you mean. Yes, I would consent to that if it would be the only salvation of Keroth.”

  “Would you slaughter helpless millions of your own people so that other billions might survive? Would you ruthlessly smash your system of government and your whole way of life if it were the only way to save the people themselves?”

  “I’m beginning to see what you’re driving at,” Tallis said slowly. “And if it is what I think it is, I think I would like to kill you—very slowly.”

  “I know, I know. But you haven’t answered my question. Would you do those things to save your people?”

  “I would,” said Tallis coldly. “Don’t misunderstand me. I do not loathe you for what you have done to your own people; I hate you for what you have done to mine.”

  “That’s as it should be,” said MacMaine. His head was clearing up more now. He realized that he had been talking a little wildly at first. Or was he really insane? Had he been insane from the beginning? No. He knew with absolute clarity that every step he had made had been cold, calculating, and ruthless, but utterly and absolutely sane.

  He suddenly wished that he had shot Tallis without wakening him. If his mind hadn’t been in such a state of shock, he would have. There was no need to torture the man like this.

  “Go on,” said Tallis, in a voice that had suddenly become devoid of all emotion. “Tell it all.”

  “Earth was stagnating,” MacMaine said, surprised at the sound of his own voice. He hadn’t intended to go on. But he couldn’t stop now. “You saw how it was. Every standard had become meaningless because no standard was held to be better than any other standard. There was no beauty because beauty was superior to ugliness and we couldn’t allow superiority or inferiority. There was no love because in order to love someone or something you must feel that it is in some way superior to that which is not loved. I’m not even sure I know what those terms mean, because I’m not sure I ever thought anything was beautiful, I’m not sure I ever loved anything. I only read about such things in books. But I know I felt the emptiness inside me where those things should have been.

  “There was no morality, either. People did not refrain from stealing because it was wrong, but simply because it was pointless to steal what would be given to you if you asked for it. There was no right or wrong.

  “We had a form of social contract that we called ‘marriage,’ but it wasn’t the same thing as marriage was in the old days. There was no love. There used to be a crime called ‘adultery,’ but even the word had gone out of use on the Earth I knew. Instead, it was considered antisocial for a woman to refuse to give herself to other men; to do so might indicate that she thought herself superior or thought her husband to be superior to other men. The same thing applied to men in their relationships with women other than their wives. Marriage was a social contract that could be made or broken at the whim of the individual. It served no purpose because it meant nothing, neither party gained anything by the contract that they couldn’t have had without it. But a wedding was an excuse for a gala party at which the couple were the center of attention. So the contract was entered into lightly for the sake of a gay time for a while, then broken again so that the game could be played with someone else—the game of Musical Bedrooms.”

  He stopped and looked down at the helpless Kerothi. “That doesn’t mean much to you, does it? In your society, women are chattel, to be owned, bought, and sold. If you see a woman you want, you offer a price to her father or brother or husband—whoever the owner might be. Then she’s yours until you sell her to another. Adultery is a very serious crime on Kerothi, but only because it’s an infringement of property rights. There’s not much love lost there, either, is there?

  “I wonder if either of us knows what love is, Tallis?”

  “I love my people,” Tallis said grimly.

  MacMaine was startled for a moment. He’d never thought about it that way. “You’re right, Tallis,” he said at last. “You’re right. We do know. And because I loved the human race, in spite of its stagnation and its spirit of total mediocrity, I did what I had to do.”

  “You will pardon me,” Tallis said, with only the faintest bit of acid in his voice, “if I do not understand exactly what it is that you did.” Then his voice grew softer. “Wait. Perhaps I do understand. Yes, of course.”

  “You think you understand?” MacMaine looked at him narrowly.

  “Yes. I said that I am not a psychomedic, and my getting angry with you proves it. You fought hard and well for Keroth, Sepastian, and, in doing so, you had to kill many of your own race. It is not easy for a man to do, no matter how much your reason tells you it must be done. And now, in the face of death, remorse has come. I do not completely understand the workings of the Earthman’s mind, but I——”

  * * * *

  “That’s just it; you don’t,” MacMaine interrupted. “Thanks for trying to find an excuse for me, Tallis, but I’m afraid it isn’t so. Listen.

  “I had to find out what Earth was up against. I had a pretty good idea already that the Kerothi would win—would wipe us out or enslave us to the last man. And, after I had seen Keroth, I was certain of it. So I sent a message back to Earth, telling them what they were up against, because, up ’til then they hadn’t known. As soon as they knew, they reacted as they have always done when they are certain that they face danger. They fought. They unleashed the chained-down intelligence of the few extraordinary Earthmen, and they released the fighting spirit of even the ordinary Earthmen. And they won!”

  Tallis shook his head. “You sent no message, Sepastian. You were watched. You know that. You could not have sent a message.”

  “You saw me send it,” MacMaine said. “So did everyone else in the fleet. Hokotan helped me send it—made all the arrangements at my orders. But because you do not understand the workings of the Earthman’s mind, you didn’t even recognize it as a message.

  “Tallis, what would your people have done if an invading force, which had already proven that it could whip Keroth easily, did to one of your planets what we did on Houston’s World?”

  “If the enemy showed us that they could easily beat us and then hanged the whole population of a planet for resisting? Why, we would be fools to resist. Unless, of course, we had a secret weapon in a hidden pocket, the
way Earth had.”

  “No, Tallis; no. That’s where you’re making your mistake. Earth didn’t have that weapon until after the massacre on Houston’s World. Let me ask you another thing: Would any Kerothi have ordered that massacre?”

  “I doubt it,” Tallis said slowly. “Killing that many potential slaves would be wasteful and expensive. We are fighters, not butchers. We kill only when it is necessary to win; the remainder of the enemy is taken care of as the rightful property of the conqueror.”

  “Exactly. Prisoners were part of the loot, and it’s foolish to destroy loot. I noticed that in your history books. I noticed, too, that in such cases, the captives recognized the right of the conqueror to enslave them, and made no trouble. So, after Earth’s forces get to Keroth, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with you.”

  “Not if they set us an example like Houston’s World,” Tallis said, “and can prove that resistance is futile. But I don’t understand the message. What was the message and how did you send it?”

  “The massacre on Houston’s World was the message, Tallis. I even told the Staff, when I suggested it. I said that such an act would strike terror into the minds of Earthmen.

  “And it did, Tallis; it did. But that terror was just the goad they needed to make them fight. They had to sit up and take notice. If the Kerothi had gone on the way they were going, taking one planet after another, as they planned, the Kerothi would have won. The people of each planet would think, ‘It can’t happen here.’ And, since they felt that nothing could be superior to anything else, they were complacently certain that they couldn’t be beat. Of course, maybe Earth couldn’t beat you, either, but that was all right; it just proved that there was no such thing as superiority.

  “But Houston’s World jarred them—badly. It had to. ‘Hell does more than Heaven can to wake the fear of God in man.’ They didn’t recognize beauty, but I shoved ugliness down their throats; they didn’t know love and friendship, so I gave them hatred and fear.