[Jan Darzek 05] - The Whirligig of Time

by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

  "Why the new cycle?" Darzek demanded. "When the message was sent, that was almost a cycle in the future."

  "Gives the government plenty of time to worry," Miss Schlupe suggested.

  "Nonsense. No one can worry for a cycle - especially a Vezpronian cycle, which is almost eighteen months of Earth time and a quarter longer than the standard galactic year. It allows too much time for accidents to happen to the best laid plans, or minds to change, or governments to be voted out of office, or even to have someone figure out how it'll be done and by whom. Is our blackmailing scientist merely a bad psychologist, or does he have some sinister purpose I can't fathom? Or is he some kind of nut? The letter sounds nutty."

  "Maybe it takes time to arrange to blow up a world," Miss Schlupe said.

  "Very likely it does. In that case, why not wait until you're ready?

  Then you can threaten to do it next term, or tomorrow, instead of in the remote future. This makes no sense at all. Also, it's very bad theater and lacks the artistic touch. The timing isn't so good, either. It's been more than two terms since that letter arrived. Why make a threat and then wait so long to follow it up?"

  "Is the new cycle a holiday?"

  Darzek turned to her. "It is. Does that have some special significance? Do what I say, or I'll turn your world into a sun and spoil your holiday? Besides, I count seven other major holidays that come first."

  "Maybe the delay is to give the government time to send someone to Nifron D. I have a different question. Why did they stage the demonstration on the other side of the galaxy? Why not use an uninhabited planet or satellite in this sector? Then the Vezpronians would be dramatically reminded of the threat every time they looked up."

  "I've already asked myself that," Darzek said. "The only logical answer is that turning a world into a sun requires some rather ostentatious preparations that are best carried out in a remote and unpopulated part of space - supplies delivered, conspicuous ground installations, maybe a large work force. But if that's the case, how does our blackmailer expect to get away with such preparations on a populous world like Vezpro? Especially if the government is alerted and starts looking suspiciously at anything that suggests a nuclear happening?"

  "Which brings us back to the possibility that the whole thing is a bluff," Miss Schlupe observed.

  Darzek was scrutinizing his desk calendar again. "Why the new cycle? Could there be some scientific reason for that? Vezpro's position in space, or the alignment of the planets, or some such thing?"

  "You're thinking of a natural cause," Miss Schlupe said.

  "No. I'm thinking of a catastrophe to which natural events contribute and which couldn't occur without them. Here's a job for you. I want to know how good Vezpro's scientists are - especially our esteemed Mas of Science and Technology, Naz Forlan. He may be a political hack."

  "I'll find out."

  "Do that. You quietly find out whether he knows anything, and I'll call on him and ask him."

  A distinguished emissary of Supreme, Darzek thought, even when incognito, should not run his own errands. He sent Gud Baxak to inquire as to when it would be convenient for Gul Darr to call on the Mas of Science and Technology. Naz Forlan responded that he was at Gul Darr's service, day or night, and invited him to come at once. Darzek donned the dark cloak that most traders affected on Vezpro and stepped through Gud Baxak's office transmitter to the government complex.

  Naz Forlan, looking like a grotesquely misconstructed greenish dwarf, stood waiting for Darzek in the reception hall. He murmured formal greetings in his soft, musical voice, ceremoniously escorted Darzek to his private office, and got him seated. Then he vanished behind a massive desk and a moment later was lifted into view by an elevating chair that compensated for his diminutive stature. His green complexion had abruptly changed to a normal Vezpronian pink. Darzek did not think to attribute this to the room's strange lighting until the interview was almost over.

  "Since you're officially a trader, perhaps it would be best if you sold me something," Forlan said.

  "What do you need?"

  "This world always is in short supply of certain rare metals."

  "Give me a list. Trans-Star will supply them in any quantities you want."

  Forlan studied him perplexedly. "Then you really are a trader?" "But of course. The fact that Supreme entrusts me with missions from time to time in no way interferes with my business. Give me your list of shortages, and I'll supply any item on it at five per cent below the minimum bid."

  Now Forlan was staring at him. "You make that offer without even knowing what the minimum bids are?"

  Darzek smiled. He felt like the city slicker lecturing a small-town merchant. "The reason you have shortages is because you're dealing with traders who can't see beyond the third sector. And you're being overcharged because they think in shipload quantities. My associates and I have connections throughout this galaxy - and even, in special circumstances, the next. We're accustomed to supplying entire worlds. One can safely discount the minimum bid when handling such quantities."

  "I fear that I'm rather naive in such matters," Forlan said apologetically. "Until I was appointed mas, my concern was with the use of things, not with the procuring of them. Very well. I'll give you a statement of quantities and minimum bids. Now - as for this other matter -"

  "This other matter concerns a scientific problem, and I'm not a scientist. I'd like two confidential assistants - an expert nuclear engineer and a computer technician - and a secure place for them to work."

  Forlan thought for a moment.' Then he flipped a switch on his desk. "Wolndur and Angoz, please. Immediately."

  A short time later a male and a female Vezpronian entered the room. They wore identical clothing - baggy, gaudy triple-legged trousers in a smear of bright colors, and similarly colored, smocklike triple-armed coats. Both looked extremely young. Darzek was about to protest that the problem already had baffled the best experts in the galaxy and wasn't about to be solved by kindergartners, but Forlan anticipated him.

  "We're confronted with the impossible, Gul Darr, but youth is not afraid of new ideas and sometimes takes impossibilities in stride. This may be an instance where imagination counts more than experience. May I present Eld Wolndur, of my nuclear engineering staff, and Melris Angoz, 'a highly competent computer technician."

  He turned to them. "Gul Darr is a trader. He also is a special emissary of Supreme, but no one except yourselves is to know that. Understand?" They both gazed awesomely at Darzek. Forlan continued, "We'll set up a special office for you. Officially, you're working with Gul Darr to develop new procurement methods for rare metals. Unofficially, you'll be working on a highly secret problem. Gul Darr will tell you what he wants you to do, or what line of research he wants you to follow. From this moment he is your superior, and you are answerable only to him. You will discuss your work with no one except him. He will report progress through myself to the masfiln when he considers that advisable." He turned to Darzek. "Is that satisfactory? I'll leave it to you to tell them what you think they should know."

  Darzek regarded his new assistants doubtfully. As Vezpronians, they probably were attractive youngsters - Melris Angoz bright-eyed and alert; Wolndur sturdy and highly serious-looking. No doubt they would approach any task he gave them with enthusiasm and perhaps even with as much imagination as Forlan claimed, but Darzek would have preferred a generous measure of knowledge and experience.

  He reminded himself that a message to UrsNollf would bring him a delegation of the best scientists in the galaxy, and he should have no difficulty in finding routine tasks for these two in case their imaginations flagged. "Make certain that your office has a direct link to the world's computer," he told them. "When you're ready to start work, a message to the Trans-Star Trading Company will reach me immediately."

  Back in the Trans-Star office, Darzek gave Gud Baxak the memorandum Forlan had prepared for him on rare metals, quantities needed, and minim
um bids, and told him what was required. Then he retired to the pentagon living room. Miss Schlupe was out, so he appropriated her rocking chair.

  He was still rocking and meditating when she returned. She seated herself opposite him and announced, "Your mas is a paragon. He's been in the national service all of his professional life, he's held high rank for years, and everyone speaks admiringly of him. He also acts as consultant to various private companies, which is customary and proper, and he's probably the local equivalent of a multimillionaire. In other words, he doesn't need a government job, and he'd acquire a lot more solvency as a full-time private consultant, but he's loyal. Our term would be 'patriotic.' Any questions?"

  "Yes. What's his specialization?"

  "Metallurgy and several related fields. He's considered brilliant." "Anything connected with nuclear science or engineering?" "Nothing. Why - is there something suspicious about him?" "There's always something suspicious about paragons," Darzek said.

  "Did he refuse to cooperate?"

  "No. He was fully cooperative. The only oddity was that he gave me a couple of youngsters for assistants. He said that a problem like this requires imagination rather than experience, and youth is less likely to be baffled by impossibilities."

  "He may be right," Miss Schlupe said. "UrsNollf's committee got nowhere, and he picked the most experienced people available. What are you moping about? If they don't perform, you can either fire them or ignore them."

  "I made the mistake of asking for assistants. Now I have to think of something for them to do."

  With the full of authority of the mas behind them, it did not take Darzek's new assistants long to establish themselves in a suitable office. They sent for him the following morning, and he went to see them at once.

  At one end of the long room, Melris had installed her banks of computer keyboards - they looked like a massive jumble of organ and piano parts. At the other end, Wolndur had set up his workscreens for scientific calculations. Three long work tables filled the center of the room, though what sort of activities his assistants expected to perform on them Darzek could not guess and did not bother to ask.

  He sat down with them at one of the tables and first impressed them with the critical need for secrecy. Then he graphically described the threat to the world of Vezpro. When finally they grasped the fact that he was serious, they were staggered.

  "To begin with, I want two things from you," Darzek told them.

  "I want a complete scientific and computer study comparing the worlds Nifron D and Vezpro - Nifron D as it was at the approximate time that it turned into a sun, since we don't know the exact moment, and Vezpro as it will be on the new cycle. I want to know if there are any natural phenomena that are the same or similar. I also want a check made of individuals who might have a grievance, real or imagined, against the world of Vezpro. Include all kinds of scientists and anyone wealthy enough to hire scientists. Any questions?"

  They stared at him mutely. Darzek wondered whether they were overwhelmed at the notion of their world being turned into a sun or because a stupid emissary of Supreme seemed to think it was possible. "This is the kind of problem that gets solved by a lucky guess, not by brilliant reasoning," he said. "Don't feel disappointed when the results you get are negative. That just means that we'll have to guess again."

  Once they had recovered, the prospect of investigating wrong guesses did not seem to discourage them. They went to work energetically, and Darzek returned to his pentagon-shaped living room for further meditation.

  He told Miss Schulpe what he had done, and she said, "I don't think much of your natural phenomena search, but the grievance one ought to cut across a lot of territory."

  "What are you working on?" Darzek asked. "I'll tell you if I find anything."

  She went off to check reports from her investigators, who used an office in a seedy part of the capital city, and Darzek resumed his meditating, He spent the day at it, and when he finished he could not remember another occasion when he had thought so long and accomplished so little. He had turned the problem over and over without finding anything suggesting a handle with which it could be picked up or even grasped. He hadn't even been able to think of another angle that his assistants could investigate.

  Miss Schlupe returned late, and before they'd had a chance to talk, Eld Wolndur arrived. Gud Baxak, who was working tirelessly on the problem of rare metals for Vezpro, announced him, and Darzek went to the office to talk with him.

  Wolndur presented him with two studies. The first demonstrated convincingly that there was no physical similarity between Nifron D at the time of its conversion into a sun and Vezpro on the new cycle. Positions of sister planets and satellites, seasons, tidal factors, alignment of the sun and planetary masses - if there was a common denominator anywhere, Wolndur was unable to find it.

  The second study contained a list of names with information about them.

  Darzek, without mentioning that the energy of his new assistants was exceeding his most optimistic expectations, presented both his congratulations and his thanks.

  "And - what shall we work on next?" Wolndur asked.

  "Anything you think appropriate," Darzek said, gesturing grandly.

  The mas had said youthful imagination might be more valuable than experience. Darzek, since he had nothing else for them to do, was more than willing to give their imaginations complete latitude.

  He took the studies to the living room and handed the list of names to Miss Schlupe. "Any of this in your territory?" he asked.

  Persons who for one reason or another had a grievance against Vezpro: a millionaire manufacturer who had closed his Vezpro plant because of - he said - silly harassment about safety regulations; government employees who had lost their jobs because of incompetence or politics and were nourishing lifelong grudges; individuals who had been assessed tax penalties and resented it; alien traders who disliked Vezpro's regulations and said so, both vocally and vehemently. It was a long list. Miss Schlupe glanced at it for a few minutes.

  Then she pushed it aside. "Garbage. Do you want me to check on all these people?"

  "Do you have the staff to do it?"

  "No. I'm adding people as fast as I can, but I have more important things for them to do. I can take the millionaires right away. Otherwise, there's just one name that looks interesting."

  Darzek nodded. "Raf Lolln. An astrophysicist with a grievance against Vezpro. It's almost too obvious. I'm going to see him myself."

  "When?"

  Darzek got to his feet. "Now. He lives on the other side of the planet. It'll be morning, there."

  It took Darzek three transmitter jumps from the terminal of Klinoz, the capital city: one to Hornitx, the major city on the eastern continent; one to Gglarr, a once charming rural city that had been devastatingly improved by the addition of light industries; and, finally, one to the residence of Raf Lolln, an astrophysicist whose differences with the University of Vezpro twenty years before had led to his dismissal.

  To Darzek's disappointment, he found an extremely elderly Vezpronian with a cherubic, mischievous smile, living in luxurious surroundings on a lovely country estate. Darzek presented his credential as emissary of Supreme. Lolln's eyes widened, but his face lost none of its puckish expression.

  "I'm afraid you're lost," he said. "Supreme is a computer; computers are slaves of dogma. This is the one point in the universe where dogma is not worshipped. How did you happen to come here?"

  "In search of an astrophysicist who has nothing to do with dogma," Darzek answered.

  Lolln uttered a cackling laugh. "That's what the University of Vezpro said when it hired me. It failed to add that it also expected me to keep quiet about it. However -" He gestured disdainfully. "The lack of an opportunity to corrupt the youth of this planet by making it think also brings freedom from responsibility. My mate and I both inherited solvency, I do some industrial consulting, we live comfortably in delightful surround
ings, and I'm able to enlarge on my nonconformity in private. Why do you need an astrophysicist? Sit down, sit down. One of those chairs ought to fit."

  Darzek seated himself, and the old scientist perched on a chair nearby and composed himself to listen. After a moment's reflection, Darzek told him - without mentioning Vezpro's connection - about the mysterious conversion of the planet Nifron D.

  When he finished, Lolln's face was wreathed in ecstasy. "And they all said it was impossible!" he exclaimed. "What a triumph for dogma! They went, they saw it, they studied it, and they concluded that it couldn't be done. According to dogma, the universe doesn't exist. I can prove it. As for your Nifron D -"

  He sprang to his feet. There was an enormous workscreen at one side of the room, and Lolln perched at the keyboard and began to fill it with mathematical and scientific symbols. One line followed another. Finally, almost at the bottom of the screen, he brought the procession to a halt.

  He turned. "There. Proven." "What's proven?" Darzek asked.

  "That Nifron D couldn't be turned into a sun. You're not a scientist?"

  "Not even remotely."

  "Pity." Lolln got to his feet and' slowly backed away from the screen, studying his creation. "It's a thing of beauty. It's exciting. It's magnificent. And it proves conclusively that what you have just told me isn't so. Do you know why? Each mathematical or scientific symbol represents an assumption. Conventional science considers them fixed entities, cast in imperishable alloys and forever changeless, but they're nothing but assumptions. Their only value is as tools we can use until we find better ones. If just one of those assumptions is incorrect, then my proof is incorrect. Conversely, if my proof is incorrect, and I believe you when you tell me it is, then one or more of my assumptions is wrong."

  "How would you go about finding out which one?"

  "Ah! That's why it's so much easier to be a dogmatist. Each one of all those symbols must be studied, analyzed, tested, experimented with - it could take a lifetime, and mine is almost over. Unless - I'm an outcast, you know - unless you could obtain access to the world computer for me. Could you?"