The Murray Leinster Megapack

by Murray Leinster

  Fran talked briskly as if to himself. But it was standard sensory-communication practice. After a long time he turned to Soames.

  “My people say—” a pause—”thank you—” another pause, “and ask for Zani and Mal and Hod.”

  “Tell them to make a column of themselves and float righthere, going up to ten thousand feet or so. Radars will pick them out. Planes will come in the night to see what they are. They’ll guess. I doubt very much that they’ll attack. Tell your people simply to keep them worried until we come back.”

  Fran zestfully swarmed back into the helicopter. Soames told him:

  “Turn off your communicator. You’ll be listened in on. But maybe the monitoring men are having their hair stand on end from the welter of communications from the ships!”

  Fran wriggled with excitement as the ’copter rose once more.

  * * * *

  Soames had an odd feeling that all this could not be true. But it was, down to the last least detail which had made it thinkable for him to defy all his fellow-men to keep faith with four children whose lives and errand he’d interfered with. The matter had been a very natural oversight, at first.

  Of course Soames had assumed that the children’s civilization had been one of very millions of people. A small city cannot establish or maintain a great technological civilization. He had been right. He’d assumed, even, that Fran’s people were able to travel between planets. Again he’d been right. But the thing he hadn’t thought of was that the development of transposition in time—and transposition in space would come later—wouldn’t occur to anybody unless there was absolutely no other possible solution to the problem the Old Race faced. They wouldn’t have tried to solve it until the Fifth Planet burst and the doom of the world they lived on was self-evident. They wouldn’t have worked at it until they realized that Venus and Mercury were due to be shattered after Earth, just as Mars was bombarded before it.

  So the struggle to escape through time was begun in the fifty-ninth minute of the last hour. Cities struggled to build time-ships and get a pioneer vessel through to future time. Asteroids plunged down upon them, wiping them out. Cities struggled on, passing to each other—to the thinning number of those who remained—such solutions to such problems as they developed. But there were fewer and fewer.… The city from which the children came had fallen in ruins from earth-shocks, and only a fraction of its population continued frantically to labor on.…

  But Soames hadn’t thought of this. It was Gail who found it out from the children with her. And she’d told Soames that he must help Fran at any cost, and told the reason in two words and a number. Speaking of Fran’s people, she’d told Soames,

  “Only 2,000 left.”

  It was true. It checked with the number of ships that came through to modernity. Only two thousand people remained of Fran’s race. They could not conquer two billions of humankind. They could not rule them. They could only take refuge among them, and share what knowledge they could with them.

  Fran leaned happily against Soames’ shoulder. The ’copter swung away from a broad wide valley.

  Fran pointed. Two valleys came together here. He, who had come away from the missile base on foot, was an authority on how to get back to it in a helicopter.

  The ’copter flew on.

  * * * *

  Fran said:

  “There!”

  And there were small lights, the color of kerosene lamps. But they were not lamps, but electric lights. Soames sent the ’copter sweeping toward the remarkably convincing Rocky Mountain village. The ship barely cleared an electrified fence, the last of three. But if there were sentries who might have fired on it, they had already heard of the arrival of a fleet of alien spaceships. Nothing so human as a helicopter could be an enemy when an invading fleet from who-knows-where was just reported.…

  The ’copter settled to ground with a whistling noise. Soames cut off the motors. Then Fran was calling joyously, and Zani squealed from a window, and Hod came tumbling out of a window and Mal popped out of nowhere and came running. There were shouts in the village. Then Gail was coming, also.

  “Pile aboard!” commanded Soames. “Your families are here, kids, and they’re waiting for you. And, Gail, there’s going to be the most thoroughly scared gang at the UN and elsewhere that you ever saw, now that what they think’s a space-fleet is actually here! We’ve been decent to the kids, and they think they haven’t, so we’ll hold out for authority to argue.…”

  * * * *

  A door slammed. Fran said happily:

  “Let’s go!”

  Motors boomed. The helicopter lifted. It rushed over the village, bellowing. Tree-branches thrashed violently in the down draught. It swept splendidly away down a valley leading to another valley and under a precipitous cliff and down more valleys. There was a place where eight silvery spacecraft floated composedly above the Earth, with the few survivors of a great civilization peering out, waiting for dawn so they could see a new world, a fresh world healed of all scars, waiting.…

  Soames pulled Gail to him. “I’ve got to make friends with these people, Gail!” His voice trembled with excitement. “You see? They’ve got a wonderful science, but we’ve got to get to work on it! They need a modern viewpoint! That time-transposing system they’ve used to save their lives, it’s bound to work as a space-transposer too! I’ve got to work it out with their engineers! We’ve got to get enough power together to send some sort of miniature transposer out to Centaurus and Aldebaran, and then have regular interstellar transposition routes and a spate of worlds for everybody to move to who feels like it.… Taking what these people have, and adding our stuff to it…we’ll really go places!”

  They swept over the reflecting waters which were the reservoir behind the Polder Dam. Fran spoke aloud, for someone somewhere else to hear. He spoke again. He was using his own, home-made sensory communicator. Then he suddenly touched Soames’ arm.

  “My people say—” pause “you talk for them.” He grinned. “Let’s go!”

  And the ’copter touched solidity and a great silvery cylinder touched very delicately close by, and the children ran, squealing, to be with people they’d feared they would never see again. And Soames and Gail walked a little bit diffidently toward the same opened, lowered door. There were some rather nice people waiting for them. They’d raised fine children. They needed Soames and Gail to help them make friends.

  Somehow it did not occur to Soames that he was the occasion, if not the cause, that on this one day and within hours, the danger of atomic war on Earth was ended, and the human race was headed for the stars instead of annihilation. But it was true. The people of the Old Race, of course, would not try to rule Earth. They were too few. They wouldn’t want to go to another planet and be alone. Again they were too few. They were the last survivors of a very magnificent civilization, but they could not maintain it unless they shared it with the people of Earth of now. They could only join the sprawling younger branch of the human race as citizens.

  But humans, now, had a new destiny. With Gail close beside him, Soames waited for the greetings of the children and their parents to end. He looked at Gail. Her eyes were shining.

  Soames felt very good. It was a perfect solution to the troubles of Earth, both past and future.

  The stars were waiting.

  THE LEADER (1960)

  Letter from Professor Albrecht Aigen, University of Brunn, to the Herr General Johann von Steppberg, retired.

  My dear General von Steppberg:

  It is with reluctance that I intrude upon your retirement, but at the request of the Government I have undertaken a scientific examination of the causes which brought about The Leader’s rise to power, the extraordinary popularity of his regime, the impassioned loyalty he was able to evoke, and the astounding final developments.

  If you can communicate to me any memories of The Leader which may aid in understanding this most bewildering period of our history, I assure you that it will be
appreciated by myself, by the authorities who wish the investigation made, and I dare to hope by posterity.

  I am, my dear general, (Et cetera.)

  * * * *

  Letter from General Johann von Steppberg (Retired) to Professor Albrecht Aigen, University of Brunn.

  Herr Professor:

  The official yearbooks of the army contain the record of my military career. I have nothing to add to that information. You say the authorities wish more. I refuse it. If they threaten my pension, I will renounce it. If they propose other pressures, I will leave the country. In short, I refuse to discuss in any manner the subject of your recent communication.

  I am, Herr Professor, (Et cetera.)

  * * * *

  Letter from Professor Albrecht Aigen to Dr. Karl Thurn, Professor of Psychology at University of Laibach.

  My dear Karl:

  I hope your psionic research goes better than my official project! My business goes nowhere! I have written to generals, ministers, and all kinds of persons who held high office under The Leader. Each and every one refuses to discuss The Leader or his own experiences under him. Why? Surely no one would blame them now! We have had to agree to pretend that no one did anything improper under The Leader, or else that what anyone did was proper at the time. So why should the nabobs of that incredible period refuse to discuss what they should know better than anyone else? I am almost reduced to asking the aid of the astrologers and soothsayers The Leader listened to. Actually, I must make a note to do so in sober earnest. At least they had their own viewpoint of events.

  Speaking of viewpoints, I have had some hope of clarifying The Leader’s career by comparing it with that of Prime Minister Winston, in power in his country when The Leader ruled ours. His career is splendidly documented. There is astonishingly little documentation about The Leader as a person, however. That is one of the difficulties of my task. Even worse, those who should know him best lock their lips while those—

  Here is an unsolicited letter from the janitor of a building in which a former Minister of Education now has his law offices. I have many letters equally preposterous.…

  * * * *

  Enclosure in letter to Dr. Karl Thurn, University of Laibach.

  Herr Professor:

  I am the janitor of the building in which Herr Former Minister of Education Werfen has his offices. In cleaning there I saw a letter crumpled into a ball and thrown into a corner. I learned in the time of The Leader that angry actions often mean evil intentions, so I read the letter to see if the police should be notified. It was a letter from you in which you asked Herr Former Minister of Education Werfen for his memories of The Leader.

  I remember The Leader, Herr Professor. He was the most holy man who ever lived, if indeed he was only a man. Once I passed the open door of an office in the building I then worked in. I looked in the door—it was the office of the then-struggling Party The Leader had founded—and I saw The Leader sitting in a chair, thinking. There was golden light about his head, Herr Professor. I have told this to other people and they do not believe me. There were shadowy other beings in the room. I saw, very faintly, great white wings. But the other beings were still because The Leader was thinking and did not wish to be disturbed. I assure you that this is true, Herr Professor. The Leader was the holiest of men—if he was only a man.

  I am most respectfully, Herr Professor, (Et cetera.)

  * * * *

  Letter from Fraulein Lise Grauer, nurse, in the city of Bludenz, to Professor Aigen at Brunn University.

  Most respected Herr Professor:

  I write this at the request of the Herr Former Police Inspector Grieg, to whom you directed a letter shortly before his death. The Herr Former Police Inspector had been ill for some time. I was his nurse. I had cared for him for months and did many small services for him, such as writing letters at his direction.

  When your letter came he read it and went into a black mood of deep and bitter recollection. He would not speak for hours, and I had great difficulty in getting him to take his medicines. Just before his bedtime he called me and said sardonically;

  “Lise, write to this Herr Professor for me. Say to him that I was once a decent man. When The Leader took power, I received orders that I would not accept. I submitted my resignation. Then I received orders to come to The Leader. I obeyed these orders because my resignation was not yet accepted. I was received in his office. I entered it with respect and defiance—respect because he was admitted to be the ruler of our nation; defiance because I would not obey such orders as had been sent me in his name.

  “The Leader spoke to me, kindly, and as he spoke all my views changed. It suddenly seemed that I had been absurd to refuse the orders sent me. They seemed right and reasonable and even more lenient than would have been justified.… I left The Leader in a state in which I could not possibly fail to do anything he wished. From that moment I obeyed his orders. I was promoted. Eventually, as you know, I was in command of the Neusatz prison camp. And you know what orders I carried out there!”

  I wept, Herr Professor, because the Herr Grieg’s eyes were terrible to look at. He was a gentle and kindly man, Herr Professor! I was his nurse, and he was a good patient and a good man in every way. I had heard of the things that were done at Neusatz, but I could not believe that my patient had commanded them. Now, in his eyes I saw that he remembered them and that the memory was intolerable. He said very bitterly:

  “Tell the Herr Professor that I can tell him nothing more. I have no other memories that would be of service to him. I have resolved, anyhow, to get rid even of these. I have kept them too long. Say to him that his letter has decided me.”

  I did not understand what he meant, Herr Professor. I helped him prepare for the night, and when he seemed to be resting quietly I retired, myself. I was wakened by a very loud noise. I went to see what was the matter. The Herr Former Police Inspector Grieg had managed to get out of his bed and across the room to a bureau. He opened a drawer and took out a revolver. He made his way back to his bed. He blew out his brains.

  I called the police, and after investigation they instructed me to carry out his request, which I do.

  Herr Professor, I do not myself remember the times of The Leader, but they must have been very terrible. If the Herr Former Police Inspector Grieg was actually in command of the Neusatz prison camp, and did actually order the things done there,—I cannot understand it, Herr Professor! Because he was a good and kindly man! If you write of him, I beg that you will mention that he was a most amiable man. I was only his nurse, but I assure you—(Et cetera.)

  * * * *

  Letter from Dr. Karl Thurn, University of Laibach, to Professor Albrecht Aigen, University of Brunn.

  My dear friend:

  I could have predicted your failure to secure co-operation from eminent figures in The Leader’s regime. So long as they keep silent, together, they can pretend to be respectable. And nobody longs so passionately to be respectable as a man who has prospered by being a swine, while he awaits an opportunity to prosper again by more swinishness. I would advise you to expect your best information from little people who suffered most and most helplessly looked on or helped while enormities were committed. Such little people will either yearn over the past like your janitor, or want most passionately to understand so that nothing of the sort can ever happen again.

  Winston as a parallel to The Leader? Or as a contrast? Which? I can name one marked contrast. I doubt that anybody really and passionately wishes that Winston had never been born.

  You mention my researches. You should see some of our results! I have found a rat with undeniable psychokinetic power. I have seen him move a gram-weight of cheese nearly three centimeters to where he could reach it through the cage bars. I begin to suspect a certain female dog of abilities I would prefer not to name just yet. If you can find any excuse to come to Laibach, I promise you amazing demonstrations of psi phenomena. (Et cetera.)

  * * * *

  Quo
tations from, “Recollections of the Earl of Humber, formerly Prime Minister Winston,” by the Hon. Charles Wilberforce.

  Page 231; “…This incredible event took place even while it seemed most impossible. The Prime Minister took it with his usual aplomb. I asked him what he thought of the matter a week later, at a house party in Hertfordshire. He said, ‘I consider it most unfortunate. This Leader of theirs is an inherently nasty individual. Therefore he’ll make nastiness the avenue to distinction so long as he’s in power. The results will be tragic, because when you bottle up decency men seem to go mad. What a pity one can’t bottle up nastiness! The world might become a fit place to live in!’”

  Page 247; “The Prime Minister disagreed. ‘There was Napoleon,’ he observed. ‘You might despise him, but after he talked to you you served him. He seemed to throw a spell over people. Alexander probably had the same sort of magic personality. When his personality ceased to operate, as a result of too much wine too continuously, his empire fell immediately to pieces. I’ve known others personally; an Afghan whom I’ve always thought did us a favor by getting killed by a sniper. He could have caused a great deal of trouble. I’d guess at the Khalifa. Most of the people who have this incredible persuasiveness, however, seem to set up as successful swindlers. What a pity The Leader had no taste for simple crime, and had to go in for crimes of such elaboration!’”

  * * * *

  Letter from Professor Albrecht Aigen, University of Brunn, to Dr. Karl Thurn, University of Laibach.

  My dear Karl:

  You make me curious with your talk of a rat which levitates crumbs of cheese and a she-dog who displays other psi abilities. I assume that you have found the experimental conditions which let psi powers operate without hindrance. I shall hope some day to see and conceivably to understand.