Closed System

by Zach Hughes

  "Makes sense," Pat said. "Delusions of grandeur."

  "Ah?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "They hadfought the vastly more populous UP to a standstillbefore the UP used planet reducers."

  "OK, I'll concede that they're fighters," Pat said.

  "And more scientific advancesstill come fromthe Zede worlds than from the rest put together,"she said.

  "I'd have to see figures on that."

  "No matter. Before the UP began to use planetreducers the Zedeians had been working on a new,very

  powerful weapon. When it became apparentthat they would have to surrender they loaded allthe scientists and technicians who had been work­ing on that weapon onto a colonization ship—"

  "Ah, ha," Pat said.

  "Yes. It's still there. Up there." She glanced up­ward. "Their mission was to lose themselves inspace. They traveled, however, in a predetermineddirection, the direction least likely to attract pur­suit. Toward the core. That way, if, somehow, theZedeians averted total defeat, ships could look forthem, and find them. They were ordered to con­tinue to work on the weapon, and they were very close to having it perfected. If they ironed out thelast flaws in it, they were to arm the six ship'slaunches—"

  "Six launches against the UP battle fleets?"

  "—and return to rescue the Zede Empire."

  "Let me do some guessing," Pat said. "Theyfound only this one poor, barren planet. They werenot too excited about it, but they'd gone just aboutas far toward the core as they could go. They putthe ship in orbit and continued to work on theweapon, and one of the experiments, or something,went wrong, disabling the ship, leaving them no choice but to land on the planet and make the bestof it."

  Corinne nodded. "You've seen this world. It doesnot have the capacity to support a normal popula­tion, and the Zedeian scientists had few resources. It takes numbers, large numbers, to build a tech­nological civilization. The planet would not sup­port such numbers, so the scientists set up a systemwhich has lasted for a thousand years. They limitedpopulation growth by birth control, at first, andthen—and believe me, Pat, this is none of ourdoing—they had to resort to euthanasia of the old."

  "Justifying it as sending the individual to hishard-earned reward, heaven on Zede. How did the priests, or the scientists, get such a hold on them?"

  "All of the ship's information, all data, books,tapes, everything, was destroyed in the explosionand fire. There was left only one set of books,books on the superstitions and religions of OldEarth. There are twelve volumes, and even the present-day priests believe them to be the originalvolumes brought out from Old Earth. We've datedthe material, however, and it's obvious that thebooks have been reproduced several times, becausethe existing ones are less than two thousand years old. However, the material seems to be authentic. My brother was ecstatic. He said they were, to his knowledge, the only surviving bit of printed material from Old Earth."

  "If that's true, the scholars of the galaxy deserveto be able to study them," Pat said.

  "Soon," she said. "Very soon."

  "Tell me about the books."

  "They were written in the language spoken by the people of Dorchlunt. There are dates. They're meaningless to us, even when we compare themwith the oral records of the mutated Earthlings.The books were first published in a year measuredby predestruction Earth calendars as 1896."

  "We know from our efforts on Old Earth thatseveral calendars were used before the destruction."

  "Yes, but the books are predestruction, very old,and very interesting. The author, a—I'll have tospell this—Klaus von Forster—" "Funforster," Pat said.

  "Yes. The author tells of hundreds of deities. It seems that every small segment of the human raceon Old Earth had its own gods. Funforster madeno judgments. He, apparently, believed in no god.He simply recorded the works and the word andthe sacred writings of the various gods. The scien­tists used the books to create a code of laws andbehavior. The books gave them sacred authority,for why else had

  they been saved from burning onthe ship?"

  "May I see the books?"

  "Yes, of course. Later. There is much more totell."

  "Before you begin, I'd like to know the source ofthis power." He indicated the lights.

  "It comes from a nuclear reactor," she said.

  Pat's eyes narrowed. "My God," he said.

  "Didn't you know that the excuse the UP usedfor destroying planets was that the Zedeians wereusing

  nuclear weapons?" "I've probably read it, yes." A thought came tohim. "Your brother—did he also discover direc­tions on

  how to make nuclear weapons? And hassomeone tested nuclear weapons within the past decade or so?"

  "We have no need of nuclear weapons," she said."The Zedeian weapon is far more final in results."

  "So is a planet reducer."

  "A planet reducer will be useless against ourweapon."

  Pat whistled. "Tell me about the weapon."

  "Not just yet," she said. "You asked about the power source here. The colonization ship had anuclear reactor aboard, a very advanced one whichcreated more fuel than it burned. They had not, inthose days, perfected the techniques of drawingship's power from the blink generator."

  "But not all ships had nuclear reactors. Theyused solar power."

  "The reactor was more efficient, and had theadvantage of being transferable to a planet, if a planet was found."

  "You're telling me that the Zedeians built a re­actor which would last a thousand years?"

  "Yes, with alterations and repairs, of course.The scientists, upon landing here, began immedi­ately to transcribe the scientific knowledge neces­sary to keep the reactor in operation, and tocontinue work on the weapon. With all other knowl­edge lost, or irrelevant to the main mission, andwith resources scant, all aspects of life except tech­nical skills were allowed to revert to a mode whichsuited the environment. You have a curious mix­ture in the average Dorchlunt man. All those strongyoung men in the villages know how to chop woodand plant crops and harvest them by hand, butput a set of test instruments and tools in theirhands and they become superb technicians. Quitea few of them can recite the most complex

  func­tions of physical law by heart, yet they can't write."

  "Who is furnishing them with modern food sup­plements and preventive-medicine tablets?"

  "That's a new thing. It's merely a precaution.When my brother found this planet, they were ashealthy and sturdy as they are now. But just incase we had brought a few disease organismswith us, we began to distribute what they call theprayer tablets."

  "So your brother found the ship and the planet?"

  "He had trouble organizing the expedition. We weren't rich. In fact, we were poor. Our father wasa hard-scrabble miner—"

  "On Taratwo?"

  "Yes. It was my brother's scholastic accomplish­ments which finally convinced the government thatthere was great potential gain in finding that old Zedeian ship."

  "I can't resist anticipating what happened," Patsaid.

  She smiled and held up one hand, asking forpatience. "I'm almost finished."

  "Go on, then," Pat said.

  "When my brother arrived here the prieststhought that he was from Zede, and that he'dcome to deliver them from their long exile. He wastreated as a god, and he immediately saw thepotential of his status. He was shown the weapon,and saw that it was powerful, but that it hadweaknesses. The triggering mechanism for the mo­lecular reaction inside the weapon had come fromthe resonance of excited carbon molecules. The sci­entists here had used a form of pressed carbon,and it took a huge mass of it to do the job. Thatmade the mass of the weapon too large to bemounted on anything smaller than a battlecruiser. My brother grasped the theory and realized thatthe weapon could be made small and, moreover,more effective, by using—"

  "A diamond, set to resonating by, maybe, a la­ser," Pat said. "Murphy's Stone."

  "A diamond," Corinne said, "but my brotherhad no way of smuggling out enough diamonds of the proper size to provi
de one exciter per weapon. A bit of experimentation proved that the larger thediamond, the greater the forces generated, andthat the excitation impulses could be broadcastfrom a central point. Murphy's Stone happened to be just the right size to be used on my brother's flagship to provide the triggering impulse for the entire fleet."

  "So the Zede worlds," Pat said, "have never forgotten the lost war, are going to conquer thegalaxy with a weapon better than a planet reducer?"

  "No," she said, shaking her head, "not the ZedeWorlds."

  "Who, then?"

  "The Brendens. Taratwo."

  He didn't catch that use of the name Brenden inthe plural at that moment. He was stunned by the ambition of the Man, of that tinpot dictator of apissant world far out in the periphery of the galaxy.

  "But why all the cloak-and-dagger to get the bigdiamond off Taratwo?" he asked.

  "The agents of Zede are everywhere on our planet," she said. "We have identified many ofthem, and allow them to continue to spy on us,being very careful not to allow them to learn any­thing important. It has been necessary for us tocooperate with the Zedeians in order to obtaincredit for the fleet we need. We had to hint atmany things to get their interest—a new and all-powerful weapon, for example. That secret wassafe, being known only here on this world. A spy,however, somehow learned that a sizable diamondhad been found on Taratwo. The Zedeians de­manded it as part payment on our debt, and, as you recall, we just barely escaped with it."

  "Let's get back to the weapon. Tell me about it."

  "Not yet, not just now." She rose and came tostand before him, reaching for his hands. "Pat, I'vetold my brother that I'm in love with you. I'vepromised him that you'll choose to join us. We cancertainly use you. We're short of experienced space­men. I've misused you, and I've lied to you, butI'm not lying now. It will be wonderful when we'vefreed the entire populated galaxy, when we've elim­inated all need, and hunger, and government tyr­anny. Be with me, please, Pat?"

  His mind was whirling. "Corinne, there's no hun­ger in this galaxy. We draw on the resources and industry and agriculture of over five thousand plan­ets. No one goes hungry. There's more work than there are workers. Oh, you have those few whowon't work, under any circumstances, but eventhey are fed, and housed, and given good medicaltreatment."

  "There is hunger and need on Taratwo," shesaid, her lips compressing.

  "It is Taratwo that chooses to be independent.As a part of the UP—"

  "We'd give up our freedom," she said, her voiceno longer soft. "We'd bow down to those who tellus what we can and cannot do, how we can liveand how we cannot live, where we can go andwhere we cannot go."

  "Honey, there have to be rules in any civilizedsociety. I don't find the UP repressive."

  "Fool," she spat, whirling away. "And I prom­ised the Brenden."

  It registered then. He rose, went to her. She didnot respond when he put his hands on her armsfrom behind. "The Brenden is your brother?"

  "Of course," she said.

  "And together you're going to wipe out the fleetsof the UP, the Zedeian worlds included?"

  She jerked away and faced him, eyes blazing. "Itwas the Zedeians who almost killed us when wewere leaving Taratwo," she said.

  "Why?"

  "Because, dammit, we'd been infiltrated. There were traitors in the space service, too, enough toseize two cruisers and try to kill us, to seize thediamond before I could bring it here."

  Pat had to take time to think. He turned, pickedup his drink. "Corinne, I take it that the time isnear. That fleet, the one that sent down the tug topick up theSkimmer, that's the Taratwo battlefleet, isn't it? And you're almost ready."

  "Yes." Her mood changed, and she came to him,looked up into his eyes. "Be with me, Pat. TheBrenden has said we can be married." She put herarms around him and spoke with great intensity."You can help make it a better galaxy, darling.You can be my prince, my king if my brother dies before you. We can wipe out all the wrongs, giveevery man his share, his due."

  It was Pat's turn to lie. Perhaps she and herbrother were both mad. It was difficult to believe that the people of the original colony ship haddeveloped a weapon which would allow Taratwo'stiny fleet to best the combined fleets of the UP. Before he made any decision, he had to see thatweapon, had to know its true potential.

  "Honey," he said, drawing her close, "I'm half­way convinced. I don't think things are bad enoughin the UP to warrant such actions as you and yourbrother are contemplating, but I know this. I want to be with you, regardless."

  She kissed him, quickly. "Wonderful. I'm so happy, Pat. So happy."

  Suddenly, she was all business again. "My brotherwill be here within the week. In the meantime, Ithink you'll want to look over our plans, give meyour opinion on the readiness of the fleet. You canbe so much help, Pat, and we'll be together."

  He was almost convinced, and then he remem­bered his brief time on Taratwo. People there had been afraid to speak of the dictator, much less tospeak ill of him. The security police had had nocompunction in gunning down an old miner. Ifthat was a sample of the enlightened freedom whichCorinne and her brother planned to bring to the galaxy, he wanted no part of it.

  "One more question, honey," he said. "Why wereyou working on Zede II?"

  She smiled. "You thought, at first, that I was anagent of Zede II, didn't you? You thought that Ihad been sent to Taratwo to get something from Brenden. Well, so didthey, so did the Zedeians.They thought I was their agent, and what theywanted was the Brenden's jewels. Pat, Taratwo is the richest diamond planet in the galaxy. We haveenough diamonds stored to decorate every fancylady on every world. And the Zedeians had heardrumors. They wanted diamonds. What they didn'tknow was that I was a Brenden, that I was onZede to influence them into trade, into tradingships and weapons for emeralds and rubies."

  "Smart," Pat said, with a little feeling of unease.

  "How'd you keep it quiet that there were dia­monds on Taratwo?"

  "The government monopoly controlled all of thegood diamond sources. We developed a surefireway of locating such areas. Now and then an inde­pendent would find a few diamonds, but they wereusually purchased by the monopoly. Those few that slipped past went unnoticed."

  "And Murphy's Stone?"

  "I told you the truth about that. The old mancame to me, thinking that my greed would influ­ence me into

  helping him get the diamond off theplanet."

  "And you knew he was going to be killed. Thesecurity police didn't have detection instrumentsto see Murphy in the ashfall—you told them hewas going to be there."

  "Pat, he had to die. The secret of such a dia­mond could not be allowed to get back to Zede.They had the power. We owe them billions. TheUP would not have raised a hand had the Zedeianssent a fleet to collect the debt, to take over."

  Well, old Murphy, Pat was thinking, so yourdeath wasn't just an unlucky accident after all.Rest in peace.

  Can a man ever know a woman? This one. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. God help him, he was still in love with her, and she'dcalled for the death of an old boonie rat as if byroutine, all in the name of the cause. Goddam all people with a cause, he was thinking. For twentycenturies the populated galaxy had_been advanc­ing, always pushing outward, just as if, as somethought, man's purpose was to dominate all of it, the entire universe, first the Milky Way and then the other numberless galaxies which stretched outward into the unknown. For a thousand years thatmass madness of humanity, war, had been undercontrol, and now this slight, beautiful, shapely,desirable, deadly girl was going to bring back the madness.

  She saw his expression change, and mistook hisintent.

  "Youare with me," she whispered, smilinghappily.

  "All the way," he said.

  Before she, herself, broke off the heated kisseswhich almost led to other things, he had begun towonder if, after all, she wouldn't be worth it. Withher in his arms he had all he wanted out of theuniverse, but if she came with power, riches, andall the goodies, wouldn't that be p
ermissible?

  NINE

  Corinne was busy. Doing what, Pat didn't ask. Hehad the freedom of the temple. His first stop was a shielded, armored room in which rested one mu­seum case with a set of ancient, leather-coveredbooks, real books, enclosed in climate-controlledglass and resting on velvet. A priest went through a complicated ritual before opening the case. Pathad no hope of being able to read all the books,all the thick volumes. He picked up the first.

  The language was German, ponderous, careful,exacting.

  "From the beginning," Klaus von Forster hadwritten, far away and back into the dimness oftime, "man, at the mercy of the elements and the mysteries of the world, sought reassurance, some­thing to prove that his life was no mere accident,that his existence had meaning beyond meetingthe day to day needs of his body. It was, perhaps,the elements themselves which first awoke in manthe need to recognize a power greater than himself."

  Pat put the book down. Such thinking was stillcurrent at the coffee table of undergraduates atXanthos U. "In the beginning," the young onessaid, "man created God." And one not quite sodaring might say, "If there were no God, manwould have had to invent him."

  Pat picked passages at random from the various volumes. Interesting, very, very interesting. Thescholars at the university would bury themselvesin these books for decades, for in the ponderouswords of von Forster, in the history of religion onOld Earth, were hints of information which was new and dazzling. If von Forster could be trusted,Earth had had a rich and long history before thedestruction, with fragmented and isolated segmentsof the population reaching for modern civilizationat different times, in different areas.

  Von Forster would be a feast for the scholar, andthere was no doubt in Pat's mind that the informa­tion which the man had written to explain thesocial basis for the various religions and cults andgods and goddesses would give man his deepestlook into his forgotten past.