Collision Course

by Robert Silverberg

Double-elbowed purple arms flailed the air madly. The Norglans rose, inch by inexorable inch, while the Earthmen kept stony silence. Now Skrinri and Vortakel were more than their own heights above the ground, and looking down in dismay and anger.

  “Put—us—down!” Skrinri grunted.

  “Very well.”

  “You—ummph!” The Norglans dropped suddenly, much to their own great surprise. They landed in an undignified heap and remained on the ground a moment, hugging it, as though wanting to be absolutely certain they were no longer under the control of the Rosgollans’ powers. When the two Norglans rose, it was slowly, with bowed heads, and they did not look at the Earthmen.

  There was an instant of silence.

  Then the Rosgollans said, “We have taken you from your home world, and we have shown you the true extent of your strength. Answer us now, men of Imperial Norgla. And still you claim the universe is yours?”

  The Norglans made no reply.

  The Rosgollan voice continued, quiet but rolling with monumental majesty all the same, “And there stand the Earthmen, creatures less sure of themselves than these Norglans, but equally proud, equally greedy. You, Earthmen: you would divide the universe with the men of Norgla, we learn. But does it lie in your hands to make such an apportionment, Earthmen?”

  For a long moment none of the little bank of Terrans dared speak. It was futile to trumpet slogans of strength, in the teeth of beings who held powers beyond comprehension. Shaking a fist at a whirlwind is more a demonstration of weakness than of strength.

  But something had to be said.

  Some justification had to be made.

  I am not the spokesman, Martin Bernard thought. I have no need to speak out. Why should 1 not keep silence?

  But silence, he saw, would be intolerable, and if no one else spoke forth he would have to do so. Someone had to speak in defense of Earth and Earth’s pretensions, at what was rapidly taking on many of the aspects of a trial by jury.

  Bernard moved forward self-consciously, standing between his group and the Norglans and looking off at where he thought the Rosgollan spokesman stood.

  “We acted in no sense of pride,” Bernard said quietly. “Our actions stem from motives that do not need apology. We are a growing race; we sought room to expand. The Norglans, like us, must have more room. Our hope was to reach an agreement that would prevent a conflict of interests and thus a destructive war.”

  “You laid claim to half the universe,” the Rosgollan voice said accusingly. “Where is the humility in this? Where the self-restraint?”

  Bernard held his ground, sensing the silent encouragement of his fellow Earthmen. “We laid claim to half the universe, yes,” he said. “We did so thinking that the universe held no people but Terran and Norglan. There lay our pride, in that blind assumption. We were wrong, tragically wrong. There are other races in the universe, we now know, and of all the races we are the youngest, and therefore the most foolish, and for this rashness of youth we ask indulgence. But we still claim the right to expand. We still claim the right to colonize worlds which now lie empty.”

  He thought he had scored a point. But then he felt waves of ironic laughter sweeping down from the circling jury of Rosgollans. Color mounted to his face, and he realized that what he had hoped was a ringing declaration had turned into a whining plea.

  “The Earthmen reduce their claim,” commented the Rosgollan voice sardonically. “Instead of half the universe, now they simply demand half of the uninhabited worlds. It is a major concession, we must suppose. It shows commendable willingness to be flexible. What of you proud men of Imperial Norgla? Speak for your people, give us your answer. Will you, too, reduce your claim?”

  The Norglans did not hurry to reply. They had adjusted to the strangeness of their situation by this time, and they conferred for a long time before Vortakel said slowly, “You have shown us that— perhaps—we are not—not yet—the strongest people of the universe. We cannot fight you. Therefore we yield.”

  Well, now, Bernard thought. I’d say that was pretty noble of you, old boy. He grinned. You’re willing to make the grudging admission that you’re licked. I’ll bet it must have hurt!

  For a long frozen moment after the Norglan declaration no one moved, no one reacted visibly. The slump-shouldered Norglans remained standing at each other’s side like a pair of beleaguered Vikings making a last stand, while the Earthmen huddled in their little group some twenty feet away, and the ringing circle of Rosgollans remained around them, more sensed than seen.

  Then the stasis broke.

  “Just one moment!” Laurance cried suddenly.

  “Yes? A point of order?”

  “You might call it that,” the spaceman said tightly, stepping forward to take the space Bernard had held. Looking up defiantly, Laurance said, “You’ve brought us all to this place, somehow, these Norglans and us. It wasn’t much of a trick for you to grab us and yank us here. And now you’re holding a little kangaroo court here. Well, fine. You have some fancy powers that we don’t pretend to have, and you’ve shown them off beautifully. You can knock spaceships off course, walk through walls, hoist people across space in a flash. But now tell me this: what right do you have to come meddling inside our galaxy? Who set you up as our judge in the first place, anyway? Answer me that! Is it just the right of might that lets you push us around?”

  “We are not judging you here,” replied the Rosgollan voice levelly. “We are merely mediating a dispute between two races. Two young races, be it understood. In order to mediate successfully, we must establish our authority, we must demonstrate our strength. It is the only way to deal with children,” the Rosgollan said.

  “With…”

  “Children, yes. Life has come late to your galaxy. As yet, only two intelligent races have evolved there—energetic, vigorous races. For the first time the paths of these young races have crossed. Your fledgling empires soon would be at war without our mediation. We take it upon ourselves, therefore— acting in the interest of the races of the universe, of which we are neither the oldest nor the most powerful—to prevent this war.

  “Therefore limits will be drawn for the empire of Earth, and limits for the empire of Norgla. You shall not exceed these bounds in your search for colonies. And in this way your galaxy shall live in peace, forever and to all eternity, world without end.”

  FIFTEEN

  It was done. And, though the Archonate knew nothing of the treaty, every one of the nine Earthmen realized that what they had done was irrevocable.

  Through some magic of their own, the Rosgollans had conjured up, out there in the meadow, a scale model of the island universe that contained Earth and Norgla. It drifted in midair, a spiral with two curving snakelike arms, composed of millions and millions of glowing points of light. The model, breathtaking in its white loveliness, looked authentic as it hung there, a flattened lens ten feet long, shining with a cold brilliance.

  Suddenly, springing up within the galactic model, a line of green light picked out a sphere perhaps a foot in diameter, a glowing vacuole within the protozoan-shape that was the galactic model.

  “This is the Terran sphere of dominion,” a Rosgollan voice silently informed.

  An instant later a second sphere sprang into glowing life, this one red, of virtually the same size, and located halfway across the model.

  “This is the Norglan sphere of dominion,” came the Rosgollan admonition.

  Earthmen and Norglans stared at the model, and at the two puny stellar empires ringed out within it. They waited, knowing what was to come.

  A searingly bright line of fierce violet zigzagged out across the model, dividing it from rim to core, lancing between the tight-packed stars to partition the galaxy into two roughly equal segments. The model looked now like a microorganism in the first stages of fission; the violent blaze of the violet boundary assailed all eyes. Bernard looked away; he saw the others doing the same.

  Colors began to spread all across the model, the
green light filling all the Terran half, the red streaming over all the Norglan suns. The Rosgollan said, “These shall be the everlasting boundaries of your dominions. Crossing them for any reason will bring immediate retribution from beyond your galaxy. You each are absolute masters within your own sectors, but there must be no trespassing.”

  “We—we have no right to enter into a binding agreement without informing our government of the course of action,” Stone protested stammeringly. “We quite frankly lack the power to…”

  “The arrangements concluded here will be binding,” replied the Rosgollan. “Let us not obscure the facts. Formal consent of high officials will not be necessary in this matter. This is not a treaty being arrived at by mutual negotiation; it is an imposition from without. The situation is clear. You will obey the establishment of the boundary line. No alternative is open to you.”

  There it was in the open, Bernard thought. Treaties are made between powers of equal sovereignty. This was something different, a blunt command.

  The Norglans, not very surprisingly, looked agitated by the open statement of intent. Skrinri declared, “You—order us to obey your decision…?”

  “Yes. We order you. These are the boundaries. You will keep within them; and you will cease to threaten each other with war. We command this in the name of galactic harmony, and we will not tolerate deviation. Is that understood?”

  Eleven figures stared dumbly at the model and at the eerie creatures that had created it. No one spoke, neither Earthman nor Norglan. Several seconds ticked by in silence, without a reply.

  “Is that understood?” demanded the Rosgollan again, with some acerbity.

  Someone had to speak, to admit what everyone already privately accepted as the dictates of necessity. Martin Bernard shrugged and said quietly, “Yes. We understand the situation.”

  “And the men of Norgla?”

  “We understand,” Skrinri said, echoing not only Bernard’s words but his tone of resignation.

  “It is done, then.”

  The divided model winked out.

  “You will be returned to your home planets. There you will inform the heads of your governments of the existence of the boundary lines we have just created. You will warn your governments that any transgression of these boundaries will lead to instant punishment.”

  It was done.

  Irrevocably?

  Unarguably?

  Light swirled blindingly around the stolid, heavy figures of the Norglan negotiators, and immediately they hazed over and were gone. An instant later, most of the Rosgollans had been translated elsewhere the same way.

  And a fraction of a second after that, the Earthmen felt a swathe of warm light engulf them—and, without any sensation of transition, they found themselves once again standing just outside their ship.

  Out of the silence came a Rosgollan voice in gentle command.

  “Enter your ship,” it ordered quietly. “We will restore you to the galaxy in which you belong.”

  Bernard lifted his eyes momentarily, caught those of Laurance. The Commander looked baffled, blocked, humiliated. Laurance glanced away. Bernard did not look at anyone else. The entire group of Earthmen, silent, shamefaced, clambered one by one into the waiting ship.

  Peterszoon, the last man to come aboard, activated the hatch controls, swinging the entry gate shut and dogging it tightly in place. There was the faint hiss as the pressure equalizers purred into action. Laurance and his crewmen filed through the ship to their quarters up front in the nose. Bernard, Havig, Stone, and Dominici went wearily aft, to the passenger cabin.

  No one spoke.

  The four men in the rear cabin took blastoff places and waited uncertainly, each averting his eyes from those of the man opposite him. The common feeling of depression, of supreme humiliation, dampened spirits.

  The ship lifted almost immediately, without the slightest sensation of having blasted off. The vessel simply was detached from the ground and floated spaceward, as though escape velocity on Rosgolla were zero, and mass and inertia just so many meaningless words.

  It was Stone who finally broke the clammy silence as the ship sprang upward.

  “So that’s that,” he muttered bitterly, staring at the wall. “We’ve got quite a story to tell when we get home! I’ll really make a splash. The bold Earthmen encounter not one alien race but two, and the second one kicked us around a little harder than the other. But we sure came off third best in that little conference!”

  Dominici shook his head in disagreement. “I wouldn’t say we did so badly.”

  “No?” Stone challenged.

  “Not at all,” Dominici maintained. “I’d say the Norglans came out a good sight poorer off than we did, after all was said and done. Don’t forget that originally the Norglans were claiming the entire universe except for our little sphere, before the Rosgallans stepped in. And now the blueskins are held down to a mere fifty-fifty split of one galaxy, nothing more!”

  “I suppose you could call that a victory for us,” Stone said. “But that kind of reasoning can rationalize away anything.”

  “And it’s assuming that the Norglans will abide by the dividing line,” Havig remarked.

  “I think they will,” Bernard said. “It doesn’t seem to me that they have much of an alternative. They’ll have to stick to the agreement, whether they like it or not. These Rosgollans seem to have almost unlimited mental powers. They’ll probably be keeping an eye cocked at our galaxy, policing it and breaking up any trouble that might conceivably start over a boundary violation.”

  “Policing our galaxy,” Stone said darkly. “That’s lovely, isn’t it? So we set out from Earth with a flourish of trumpets, as representatives of the universe’s dominant race, and we come back home policed into one little corner of our own galaxy. That isn’t going to be easy for the Archonate to swallow.”

  “It won’t be easy for anyone to swallow,” Bernard said. “But the truth never is. And this is one bit of truth that’s bound to stick in any Earthman’s craw. The thing we’ve found out we didn’t know before is that we aren’t the universe’s dominant race; at least not yet, anyway. The Rosgollans and maybe some others out in the distant galaxies have an evolutionary start of perhaps five or six hundred thousand years on us. So we’ve been slapped back into our place—for a while. We were like a bunch of kids imagining that the universe was ours for grabs. Well, it isn’t, that’s all, and the Archonate and all the rest of the people of Earth will just have to get used to the idea.”

  “Regardless, this is the greatest defeat Earth has suffered in her history,” Stone persisted.

  “Defeat?” Bernard snorted. “Listen, Stone, do you call it a humiliating defeat if you slam your hand against a metal bulkhead and break your fingers? Sure, the bulkhead defeated your hand. It’ll do it every time. It’s in the fundamental nature of metal bulkheads to be stronger than bare fingers, and it’s ridiculous to moan about the philosophical aspects of the situation.”

  “If I want to defeat a bulkhead, I don’t use my bare hands,” Stone replied. “I’d use a blowtorch. And I’d win ten times out of ten.”

  “But we don’t have a blowtorch we can use on the Rosgollans,” Bernard said. “We just aren’t in their league. It’s in the nature of highly advanced races half a million years older than we are to be more powerful than we are. Why get upset about it?”

  “Bernard is right,” Havig said in a quiet voice. “The great wheel of life keeps turning. Some day the Rosgollans will be gone from the universe, and we, in the twilight of our days, will watch other, younger, stronger races come brawling across the skies. And what will we do then? Just what the Rosgollans did to us: confine these races, for the sake of our own peace. But, perhaps, by then we will know Who has made us, and we will not act for our own sake.”

  Sinking his head in his hands, Stone muttered, “What Bernard’s been saying all makes perfectly good sense on the abstract, intellectual level. I’m not trying to deny that. But come
down to the realities of the situation. How do you go about telling a planet that thought it was the summit of creation that it’s very small potatoes indeed?”

  “That’s going to be the Archonate’s problem, not ours,” Dominici said.

  “What does it matter whose problem it is?” Stone demanded sharply. “This will set Earth in an uproar. It’s a planetary humiliation.”

  “It’s a planetary eye-opening,” Bernard snapped. “It’ll destroy any lingering shred of complacency. For the first time we have some other races to measure ourselves against. We know that the Norglans are just about as good as we are, right now—and that the Rosgollans are a whole lot better. So we know we’ll have to progress, to keep abreast of the Norglans, to aim toward the level of the Rosgollans. And we’ll get there.”

  Hernandez entered the cabin and stopped, looking about uncertainly at everyone.

  “Am I interrupting something important?” he asked.

  “What could be important now, anyway?” Stone asked in a dismal voice.

  “We were just hashing over the implications of our new status,” Bernard explained. “Is there any sort of trouble up front, Hernandez?”

  The crewman shook his head. “No, no trouble, Dr. Bernard. Commander Laurance sent me back to let you know that it seems the Rosgollans have returned us to the place where we got lost, and we’re about to convert into no-space and head for home.”

  “But that can’t be,” Stone said.

  Simultaneously Dominici gasped and said, “What? You mean we’re back in our own galaxy so fast? But…”

  “That’s right,” Hernandez said quietly. “It’s only half an hour or so since we left Rosgolla, ship time. But we’ve come back.”

  “Are you certain?” Bernard asked.

  “The Commander’s positive.”

  Hernandez turned and left. A tremor of cold awe shot through Bernard.

  The ship, then, had crossed the galactic gulf in a mere matter of twenty or thirty minutes, thanks to the boost from the Rosgollans. It was a feat beyond the capacity of the human mind to grasp.