Battle on Venus

by William F. Temple

  “George isn’t like that—he gives me food,” said Mara. Senilde didn’t hear; he was thinking about himself. He mused: “As a boy, I loved playing with toy soldiers and staging little wars. When I became a very bored immortal, I thought it could be fun to play those wars again—with people. For most people are just puppets. How easy it was to play on their fears, vanities, and power-lusts! I had a fine time inventing new weapons and methods of attack and defense, then watching the little men applying them—in the name of this or that. First, local wars, then national wars, then ideological wars, then one great planetary civil war. So you were looking for the white circle headquarters, George? This is it. And I’m the commander.”

  “I presume this is the green triangle HQ, too?”

  “Correct. Again, I’m the commander. The Generals used to come to me for orders, thinking I was commanding their side only. It amused me no end: they were so stiff, serious, conscientious, keen, high-minded. And they always thanked me for my guidance. Now I’ve quite forgotten what their silly symbols were supposed to stand for—some kind of ’ism, the One and Only Way of Life.”

  Senilde laughed his wet laugh.

  “I’d put new weapons in the hands of one side, and then the other. Match tanks against tank-torpedoes, atomic bombs against nerve gases. At last I grew tired of them and their petty intrigues. I was sick of their jealousies and the way they curried my favors. I respected the machines more: they didn’t fight among themselves like rats. Anyhow, so-called human beings were becoming redundant in this mechanized warfare. I’d invented weapons which could detect, recognize, and engage targets by themselves. People were becoming just nuisances hiding behind them, ducking and hoping they wouldn’t get hurt. They merely got in the way. And when they didn’t duck in time, they were liable to clog the machines with their messy bodies.”

  “You do love people, don’t you?” said George, sarcastically. Senilde ignored him. “So I decided to dispense with people altogether. I presented both sides with Meknitron gas. They saturated the planet with it and obligingly wiped themselves out almost completely. Odd spots escaped, like the village of Fami, where a perpetual up-draft kept the ledge clear. The mechanical war went on —still goes on. But I lost interest even in that. Now I mostly sleep and sun-bathe, and wait for the real sunshine to return.”

  “The real sunshine?” Mara echoed, questioningly.

  “The clouds of Meknitron have been slowly losing substance for a long time. They’ve lifted from the ground so far that only the highest mountains touch them. They’ll continue to rise and disperse. In less than a thousand years, the sun should begin to break through. This was once such a sunny little planet. I do miss the sun.”

  “Your Meknitron,” said George, heavily, “killed one of our crew as the ship passed through it.”

  “Really?” said Senilde, and yawned.

  “I didn’t expect you to burst into tears. However, before you go to sleep you might explain why some white circle tanks should first attack us, then suddenly switch to our side and defend us against green triangle tanks.”

  Senilde frowned. “A strange incident. Give me full details of what happened.”

  George complied.

  “I see,” said Senilde. “Well, maybe you noticed that the circle and triangle tanks and vehicles are of different designs and sizes. They’re deliberately so. Each fighting machine has a memory bank of the outlines of the machines, including aircraft, belonging to its own side. If a tank, say, detects by radar or vision another approaching, it searches its memory bank to try to match the pattern of the outline. If its file contains no such pattern, the tanks act on the assumption that the other is an enemy.”

  “So?”

  “When your space-ship landed, it was vertical. White circle tanks have no vertical shapes of that kind on file. So they opened fire. But their fire caused your ship to topple to the horizontal. In that position it much resembled the body of the white circle torpedo-on-wheels— sufficiently so to pass muster as a friend. Similarly, the green triangle tanks registered it as an enemy. You understand?”

  “Yes, I get it. But who’s side are the big steel wheels pitching for?”

  “Neither. They’re just fighting mad—they’ll go for anybody. I threw them in just for a bit of spice. They really date back to the days of the humans. Used to cut people to pieces or frighten ’em to death or just pin ’em down until the artillery shot them up.”

  “You have a great sense of humor, Senilde. If I were—”

  George broke off, for an uneasy thought crossed his mind. “Look,” he said, urgently, “when I left my friends they were planning to try to haul the ship upright again —using white circle tanks to do the hauling.”

  Senilde laughed slobberingly. “That’s just the kind of thing which appeals to my great sense of humor, George. What a happy surprise for them! The moment the tanks finish the job, they’ll register the ship as an enemy again, and turn around and blast it point-blank.”

  George felt sick in the stomach. Not merely on behalf of the skipper and the others, although he thought of them. Senilde had a point about people and their self-interest. For what was worrying him most was the prospect, if the ship were destroyed, of being marooned on this soulless planet at the mercy of an omnipotent and amoral dotard.

  He snapped: “You said you ran the war from this headquarters, here. Are all the war machines powered from here?”

  “Yes. They’re powered by radio.”

  “Then for Pete’s sake cut the power—right now. If it’s not too late, that’ll save the ship and my friends.”

  “Oh, I can’t do that.”

  “What? Why not? You said the war doesn’t mean anything to you any more.”

  “It doesn’t, George. But I would have to climb to the upper floor and mess about with switches and things. Tiresome. Besides, I hate climbing stairs.”

  George felt like hitting him, but remembered in time the old man’s protective thunderbolt.

  Instead, he stormed: “Then I’ll go. Where is it? What do I do?”

  “You’ll never find the control room—there’s a secret panel or two and all kinds of complex safety devices. Besides, I don’t want you prying—”

  A bell rang sweetly high on the wall.

  “Ah!” exclaimed Senilde. “This is my lucky day—I have another visitor. Who can it be? Let’s see.”

  He walked out of the lounge. George and Mara stared at each other. George threw up his arms. “Isn’t it maddening to want to kill a man you can’t kill?

  Where’s the old fool gone now?”

  “The best way to find out is follow him,” said Mara, practically. She went out. George tagged along behind; he was curious about the visitor, too. Senilde was in the gloomy cavern of the hall staring out at the garden. A distant figure was approaching the fountain in the driveway. Senilde was shaking with anticipatory glee.

  George unslung his telescope and leveled it. The newcomer was a mere stick of a man, old, shriveled, knock-kneed, in a one-piece tunic so dirty its original color was unplaceable. However, he seemed at ease, walking slowly and calmly. When the fountain duly performed, he walked steadily through the shower, not changing his pace but only his expression, which became one of disgust.

  Mara wanted to look through the telescope. George gave it to her.

  “It Leep,” she reported, without surprise.

  Senilde looked at her and asked what instrument she was using. Either he’d not seen telescopes before or else they’d passed out of use on Venus so long ago he’d quite forgotten them. Mara passed it to him. He was fascinated and watched Leep closely through it

  Leep sat on no seats, and when he neared the sticky patch he seemed to divine its existence and walked carefully around it. Senilde sighed with disappointment. Then he whispered: “The step will catch him.”

  It didn’t. Leep avoided the step and entered through the side of the portico. Mara greeted him in their own language. It came through the Teleo simply
as

  “Hello, Leep.”

  Leep replied casually.

  Mara said: “No, I’ve only just come. I’ve been back to look at Fami. How did you escape?”

  George had dug out another Teleo outfit. He handed it to Leep. Mara explained its function, and the seer put it on. Senilde watched Leep sulkily, his expression saying that this ultra-cautious fellow promised poor sport. Leep said: “I warned everyone the overhang was about to fall. They believed me, naturally, but hoped irrationally it wouldn’t be too bad. They talked themselves into sticking it out in Fami. But I didn’t want to die, so I came down the glacier in the way you did. Then I wandered around the foot-hills looking for this house. I knew it existed, but I could divine only its rough location. I’ve been walking for a long time and I’m hungry. Very hungry. Is there any food here?”

  Senilde had lost interest in Leep, and was playing with the telescope. George said: “I’ve a little food. Come on in.”

  Senilde made no protest, even if he heard. He walked out into the garden and began to survey the area through the telescope. George led the way into the lounge and opened up the provision box. Leep munched food bars appreciatively.

  “What made you come here?” George asked.

  “I thought Mara might be here. I wanted to find her.”

  “Why?” asked Mara.

  Leep addressed her directly: “When my foolish disciples disappeared under the ice with the others, I had no one left to steal for me. You were the best artist in Fami, Mara, and I hoped you’d agree to steal for me. Senilde must have plenty of food in this house someplace.”

  “Maybe, but we’ve not seen any of it,” said Mara. “And why should I steal for you? Why don’t you steal for yourself?”

  “My talents are solely of the mind,” said Leep, sadly. “I live only to think. My ideal existence would be endless meditation. I’m quite unpractical, as you know. I shall starve to death unless somebody finds and gives me food.”

  “What can you give in return?” asked George.

  “The fruits of my knowledge. I was born with a gift for knowing things, a kind of second sight. It’s erratic, patchy. I can’t command it. Odd fragments drift into my mind as I meditate. Sometimes they’re useful to me, sometimes to others. Often they’re connected to nothing and of use to nobody. I can only accept what is vouchsafed me. Sometimes information is vague, like the location of this house—and no effort of mine will focus it.”

  “So you’re a sensitive?” said George. “Your faculty is known on my planet. Some Earthlings possess it. It’s been verified by controlled experiments. But, as you say, it’s fitful.”

  “You come from another planet? So much for my faculty—I wasn’t ever aware of that.”

  George always warmed towards people who possessed the virtues of frankness and a sane humility. He found himself telling Leep about Earth and its people, about the journey to Venus, and what had happened since the landing. He concluded: “So, as Mara and I are in love, I want to take her back to Earth with me. Therefore I regret that you can’t have her for your personal ‘artist.’

  I’ve a better suggestion. Come to Earth with us. Real, live Venusians are rare specimens. You would be a fine capture for me—but not a captive. Understand, you would be perfectly free to meditate or do as you wish. I promise you the terrestrials would make much of you, respect you, listen to you, and most certainly feed you.”

  The old man pondered, then said: “There seems very little choice. I must go where the food is. Being hungry is terrible, and completely spoils my concentration.”

  “Good,” said George. “Now listen, Leep. Hidden somewhere in this house is a room containing the master switches controlling the power behind this idiotic war. See if you can divine where it is, and then—”

  He dropped his voice and broke off as Senilde came in. Senilde said, genially: “This telescope is a most intriguing toy, George. What can I trade you for it? Are you prepared to deal? Do you really need this girl Mara? There are other lovely girls still around on this planet, you know, and I could find you any number—”

  “Shut up!” said George, savagely.

  Mara pinched him hard. He looked at her inquiringly. Covertly, she went through the motion of turning a switch. He got it. He turned to Senilde, and said, curtly: “Switch off the war and you can have the telescope.”

  “Is that all?”^ asked Senilde, eagerly. “Very well, that’s a bargain.”

  “I want to make sure you keep your end of it,” said George. “I want to see you do it.”

  “Of course,” said Senilde, off-handedly.

  George rose from the couch. He was still holding a food bar. He proffered it to Senilde. “Here, I’ll throw this in, too.”

  “What is it?”

  “Food—good food.”

  Senilde waved it aside. “I never eat. Haven’t eaten for thousands of years. I don’t have to. Bodily immortality changes one’s metabolism completely. I drew sufficient nourishment from my environment, without recourse to that rather disgusting—if you’ll forgive me— procedure.”

  Leep sat up straight, his ears pricking up like an animal’s. George, misreading the reaction, tossed him the food bar, and remarked to Senilde:

  “Well, aren’t you the lucky man! Now let’s climb those awful stairs.”

  Mara joined them. George asked: “Coming, Leep?”

  “Not just now—I feel a thinking spell coming on. I’ll just sit here a while.”

  Senilde made heavy going of the stairs. However healthy his cells might be, centuries of lack of exercise had done nothing for his muscles or his mind. He was right in another respect, too: George would never have found the room. The upper part of the house was like a Chinese puzzle box: sliding panels behind sliding panels, secret passages within secret passages, concealed springs which could only function after other concealed springs had been pressed. The room itself, revealed at last, was full of control panels. Tiny lights winked everywhere and an electric hum permeated it. Things like ticker tapes were clicking out printed messages, and rows of spools revolved jerkily, winding them on. Senilde indicated them, grinning asininely. “All in different codes, and I can’t remember one of them now. Once, I could read them all.”

  “Does any of them give the location of my ship?” George asked.

  “Almost certainly. But how would I know which one? I can’t dicipher a word, nor even a figure.”

  George grunted, between disbelief and disappointment. Senilde began snapping switches. One by one at first, then in whole banks, the little lights went out. The message machines stopped. The hum slowly faded from hearing. Then all the apparatus was still, silent, dead.

  “There you are,” said Senilde.

  George relaxed. Relief came like a warm current of air. He’d achieved all that was possible to save the skipper and the others—and himself.

  “Thanks—let’s go.”

  They threaded their way out through the maze of secret ways. Senilde methodically closed the panels behind them. When they reached the lounge, Leep was still sitting there quietly.

  George said, lightly: “How now, soothsayer, have you been visited by any inspirations?”

  Leep regarded him thoughtfully. “Yes. I was thinking about your space-ship. And all at once, its exact latitude and longitude flashed into my mind.”

  George glowed. “Great! You’re real smart, Leep. Where’s the ship?”

  “The Teleo conveys an ambiguous meaning to that word ‘smart’,” said Leep.

  “You’re correct in the sense that I have a strong instinct for self-preservation.”

  “Sure—haven’t we all? Naturally it’s in your interest to help locate the ship so that you can come to Earth with us.”

  “I don’t particularly want to go to Earth now,” said Leep. “If I go, I shall be well-fed—granted. But also I’ll be constantly harassed and importuned to use my gifts for others, to become a common fortune-teller. I’m an old man and in the normal way shan’t
live much longer. I resent any limitation on my time for meditation. I’ve always resented the time wasted on the necessity for getting food. No, I’m quite willing to give my place in the ship to Senilde here.”

  “To go to Earth?” said Senilde, surprised. “What makes you imagine I should want to go to Earth?”

  Leep said, calmly: “You’ve exhausted all the pleasures of Venus, and you’re bored sick. On Earth there must be innumerable new pleasures you’ve never tasted, never even imagined. Again, the Earthlings are very shortlived. With your wisdom, knowledge, experience, authority, and invulnerability you would soon become their ruler. It’s inevitable that an immortal should rule mere mortals.”

  Mara laughed at the cool cheek of it.

  But George stammered with anger: “Why, you two-faced pocket Machiavelli, I wouldn’t l-let you come aboard the ship now to save my l-life!”

  Leep said, softly: “You can’t go aboard the ship yourself if you can’t find it. I’ll tell you this: it’s very far from here. It would take weeks to walk there, even if you walked in the right direction. If you didn’t, it might take years.”

  Mara said, shrewdly: “In return for directing us and Senilde to the ship, so that we can go to Earth, you wish Senilde to give you the secret of immortality, don’t you?”

  “That’s it,” said Senilde. “I said before you were intelligent, Mara. Obviously more intelligent than this cracked visionary who imagines he can strike bargains with me.”

  “I have set my heart on becoming an immortal,” said Leep. “To meditate, forever, without distraction, without ever having to worry again about finding food!”

  “Rubbish!” snapped Senilde. “You’d become as bored as I am, and long for death, as often I have done. Immortality is a curse. I’ll be kind, and save you from it.”

  “Ever the altruist,” murmured Leep, sarcastically. “The real truth is that you’re jealous of your uniqueness, Senilde. You fear to have a rival. In point of fact, you would have nothing to fear from me. The only power I seek is over myself, over the labyrinths of my mind. The whole universe lies in every man’s mind. Every man could discover that through mere contemplation— if he could live long enough to do so.”