[Jan Darzek 05] - The Whirligig of Time

by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

  "One capable of making a single consumer item would be preferable. And the item should have something to do with nucleonics."

  "Yes, sire."

  "I don't really want to buy one. I just want to find one that's known to be for sale. If necessary, you can take an option, but don't pay much for it. I only want it for a few days, ten at the most, and there's no point in squandering solvency. Get it free if you can. And bring back a few samples of the product."

  "Yes, sire."

  Gud Baxak, seething with curiosity, strode to the transmitter. He had a quality that enhanced his value to Darzek. No matter how curious he was, no matter how inexplicable his instructions seemed to him, he could do what he was told without asking a single question.

  Darzek turned to his desk and picked up Miss Schlupe's list of a hundred-plus missing nuclear physicists and engineers. He wondered if he had accidentally discovered what had happened to them.

  8

  When Darzek had attended the Zarstans' theater - or church - he had not been aware that he was taking part in a religious ceremony. He'd thought he was attending the most confusing dramatic presentation that intelligence could contrive. The audience surrounded the play, but this arrangement had none of the direct logic of theater-in-the-round. Instead, it was theater-in-all-directions. The seating was on a level, and the room was crossed and crisscrossed by wide aisles. Wherever two aisles intersected, there was an oval, and in these ovals the play took place. The members of the audience watched the nearest oval. The performance was almost completed before Darzek realized that the various segments of the play were moving from oval to oval and repeating themselves, so that the dramatic presentation consisted of a multitude of parts that each area of the audience was seeing in a different sequence.

  The effect on a member of the audience - since he heard the dialog in several ovals simultaneously and had to strain to follow that of the oval nearest to him - was visual pandemonium and aural consternation. The surroundings were as stark as those of a summer barn theater on the verge of bankruptcy, with oddly contoured, uncushioned, backless seats that were the most uncomfortable Darzek had experienced since he'd attended a small rural church as a child. Perhaps this should have furnished a clue for him, but he had not even suspected that he was watching the proselytizing efforts of a major religion.

  The robots, of course, were spectacular in their simulations of genuine actors.

  On this, his second visit to the building, Darzek found the theater closed. The tall, slanting entranceways with strangely scalloped openings were filled with shimmering luminescence. The effect looked so odd that he stepped closer, was tempted to touch, and decided not to. It was a barricade of light waves, and it looked like woven strands of color.

  He turned to the left, to a door he had not noticed on the previous occasion, and entered the Zarstans' religious headquarters on Vezpro.

  It was as Spartan as the theater had been. The problem with a totally industrialized society, Darzek thought, was that more and more buildings and rooms and even the contents of rooms came to be designed for machines. This one was the natural habitat of automated cleaners, sterilizing robots that snooped out the last wispy trace of bacteria, transmitting cabinets for ordering food or anything else, mechanical messengers, reference computers with their bulging viewing screens. There was no need for closets except those custom designed for machines; no need for storage space because anything wanted could be ordered at once by transmitter; no need for filing cabinets when machines digested everything and spewed it out on request.

  This barren Zarstan headquarters would never pose a problem for any cleaning machine. In the walls, like a row of displays at an aquarium, were miniature theaters where fantastically ingenious miniature robots enacted scenes of religious import over and over. Probably the entire sequence told a story or preached a sermon. Darzek moved slowly from display to display; the tiny robots presented their histrionics; the sonorous message of the Zarstans' religion boomed at him from each display's concealed audiocation. Those watching were an incongruous assortment of life forms who wandered about in desultory fashion with more of an air of killing time than of experiencing a religious revelation.

  At the center of the room, on an enclosed dais that looked like a large box, sat a white-robed Zarstan. "Questions answered, sermons delivered on request," Darzek murmured. The priest was an alien type Darzek could not immediately identify, and he had an air of profound meditation and total obliviousness to his surroundings. His countenance, with its saucer-sized eyes and noseless, scaly face and head, amply endorsed the Zarstans' democratic principles, at least as concerned males of all species.

  A Skarnaffian entered the room, and Darzek turned and followed him toward the central dais. The Skarnaffian was an undersecretary from the Skarnaffian Embassy, armed with impeccable credentials, and his visit here had been effected on the strength of Darzek's own impeccable credentials as a special emissary of Supreme. Darzek had obtained the ambassador's cooperation and also a guarantee that this small errand by one of his staff would remain confidential.

  Darzek's hunch was that no questions about a missing cousin-uncle from one of Miss Schlupe's urchins would be treated seriously by this order of scientific priests. He wanted an inquiry with the greatest possible impact, and an official call from a world embassy concerning one of its citizens would have to be accorded respect, if not ceremony.

  The undersecretary was in formal black diplomatic robes; Darzek had insisted on that. Obviously such formal visits were uncommon here, and the white-robed priest looked down at him in amazement. Darzek noticed for the first time that the priest's chest was ornamented with lines of ribbed material set with jewels - a design that looked vaguely familiar until Darzek experienced a revelation that left him feeling silly: the priest was wearing the diagram of an atom; the jewels were electrons. The priest himself was, presumably, the nucleus and proton. Darzek stood behind the undersecretary in the patient attitude of one awaiting his turn and listened to the conversation.

  Darzek's hunch proved correct. The priest examined the undersecretary's credentials with care, and, when he had returned them, his voice was deferential. "How may the prime forces of the universe serve you?"

  "I seek information," the Skarnaffian said. "Official information, for the use of my government."

  "This nameless particle is at your service."

  "Some three Vezpronian cycles ago, a citizen of Skarnaf disappeared on this planet. It now becomes imperative to learn what happened to him. His name is Qwasrolk. A nuclear engineer."

  The priest had his head cocked, listening politely, but his scaly face was expressionless.

  "It is possible that he became a Zarstan," the undersecretary went on. "We would be most appreciative of a record check."

  "Regretfully, I cannot assist you."

  "But why not? We only need to know -"

  "The Order of Prime Forces maintains no such records."

  The undersecretary regarded him perplexedly. "Do you mean to say that when a person joins your order you don't even record who he is?"

  "Once transmutation occurs, the particle loses its identity and becomes a nameless but transcending force. What it was before has no significance. What it is, is all. No, the Order maintains no record of what its particles have been - only of what they have become. So I cannot assist you."

  "If you refuse to assist, we shall have no choice but to have the ambassador himself take the question to your Order's Prime Number."

  "He is of course welcome to do so. Please convey to him the Prime Number's invitation. Also the Order's regret that there are no records to assist him in his quest."

  The priest's jerk of his scaly head was a dismissal. The undersecretary turned away with a shrug; the priest directed his gaze inquiringly at Darzek, who stepped forward.

  Darzek spoke in a manner unfamiliarly humble to him. "This worthless one seeks knowledge. Is the road to transmutation a lon
g one?"

  "Long," the priest agreed. "And difficult - as is true of all goals worthy of attainment. But the meritorious often have traveled it unknowingly and are much closer to their goal than they realize. Are you free of family obligations?"

  "Completely. "

  "Are you a male of your own species?"

  "I am."

  "And your specialization?"

  "The mentalities of intelligent life forms."

  The priest gazed at him blankly. Then he said, sounding genuinely regretful, "The road would indeed be long for you. You would first have to qualify yourself in some aspect of science or technology."

  "Surely your Order has a need for those who specialize in the sciences of living beings," Darzek protested.

  "A limited need," the priest conceded. "But the Order provides its own training for such specialists-who must be knowledgeable in science or technology as well. And we do not accept novices according to any particular need, but in accordance with their qualifications, which must include mastery of some aspect of science or technology."

  "I understand. As you said, the road will be a long one. Does not your Order provide assistance for those who seek the most worthy of goals?"

  The scaly face scowled negatively. "Those who come to us in good faith already have set their feet upon the road."

  "Then I must find the road myself and travel it alone?" "Until you are deemed qualified and worthy," the priest said.

  "Thank you."

  The priest intoned something that may have been a blessing and wished him good fortune in his search, and Darzek thanked him again and left. Using the public transmitter in the theater lobby, he went directly to the government complex and the office where his scientific assistants were at work.

  He found Wolndur and Lolln gathered around Melris Angoz and a pile of computer effluence that looked as though the machine had been stuck and running for a week. He did not ask if there'd been any progress. All three of them wore the thick gloom that descends suddenly when a promising assumption remains promising until the ten-millionth test.

  Lolln growled, "We think we've found where the fallacy is, but we can't find what it is."

  "Sorry to interrupt," Darzek said, "but I need your assistant for another line of research." He spoke to Wolndur. "I want you to go down to the Zarstan headquarters and try to enlist."

  Melris looked up blankly. "What?"

  Darzek grinned - he was aware that the two of them were, as it was put on Earth, going steady. "Pretend you want to enlist. Be truthful about everything else. There's a fellow worker, female, you're attracted to, but you wonder if you aren't destined for higher things. Find out as much as you can."

  "Well - all right."

  He went out. Lolln, perplexedly scratching his wrinkled bald head, was staring at Darzek. Melris was looking concernedly after Wolndur. "Don't worry," Darzek told the two of them. "I'm about to take the Zarstans and their religion apart. If they grab him, I'll get him back for you."

  At the office of the Masfiln of Vezpro, Darzek sent in his name and was admitted at once. Min Kallof seemed to have acquired a few more wrinkles since the night he called at Darzek's office with his Mas of Science and Technology. He regarded Darzek with puzzlement.

  "I thought it was agreed that we would communicate through Naz Forlan."

  "Only on matters that concern him," Darzek said. "My call is an official one in behalf of the Council of Supreme, and it concerns your office. Why is the government of Vezpro maintaining relations with an Uncertified World?"

  Kallof stared at him. He finally managed to say, "Uncertified -"

  "Members of the Galactic Synthesis," Darzek went on, "of which Vezpro of course is one, or any of its citizens, are forbidden to have contact with a nonmember, an Uncertified World, or with any of its citizens. The penalties are severe. I have just learned that Vezpro has been maintaining relations with an Uncertified World for many years."

  "But that is not true!"

  "The world is Zarst."

  "But Zarst -" Kallof paused. "Zarst is - was - a colony of Vezpro."

  "And when Vezpro gave Zarst its independence, was it certified for membership in the Galactic Synthesis?"

  Kallof did not answer. His initial reaction of indignation over a preposterous accusation had dissolved into one of stark consternation.

  Darzek seated himself. "This," he said, in a tone of voice that admitted no argument, "is what I want you to do."

  When Darzek left the masfiln, he looked in again on his scientific assistants. This time all of the gloom was focused on Wolndur; the others were laughing at him.

  "He turned me down!" Wolndur said indignantly. "He said I would have to return to the university for at least two years of advanced study!"

  "That's what I wanted to know," Darzek said. He asked Lolln, "Do you know anything about nuclear research conducted by the Zarstans?"

  "I know nothing about them except what pertains to their mundane nuclear technology," Lolln said. "They are highly competent in that."

  "And if they are competent in that, is there anything that would prevent their going beyond the mundane into the area of pure research?"

  "I suppose not, if they wanted to invest the time and 'Solvency." "Obviously they limit their membership to highly qualified scientists. They're reputed to be immensely wealthy. Are there any individuals, or organizations, or governments you know of who would be better qualified either as to scientific personnel or solvency to figure out a method for turning a planet into a sun?"

  Lolln thought for a moment. "Strange it never occurred to me," he said. "It must be the Zarstans. As you say, no one else would have either the scientific resources or the solvency. It would cost them only for materials, since their priests are unpaid. I wouldn't say that they have the best scientific brains in this sector of the galaxy, but they certainly have a concentration of highly qualified scientists that's not available anywhere else."

  "Thank you," Darzek said. "Now all of you can go back to work."

  He dropped his hand on Wolndur's shoulder and grinned consolingly. "Don't feel bad. He turned me down, too. And it wasn't for a lack of advanced study. He told me I wasn't even ready for kindergarten."

  At the Trans-Star office, Darzek found Gud Baxak there ahead of him with a strange assortment of weird-looking articles, each complete with design drawings and specifications. Gud Baxak said, "Sire, factories making these things are available."

  "Did you spend any solvency?" Darzek asked.

  "No, sire. I had no difficulties in obtaining ten-day options. Apparently it is understood that the buying of factories requires study and calculation, and that there will be considerable negotiations."

  "There certainly will before I buy one."

  "Do you wish information regarding these -" Gud Baxak's hand swept over the incongruous miscellany he had spread out in the corner of the office. "- these items?"

  "Later. Is Gula Schlu in?"

  "I don't know, sire. I just returned with these – these -"

  "Right. I'll check."

  Miss Schlupe was in. She took one look at Darzek's face and announced, "You're going to start a war."

  "That's one way to put it," Darzek said. "I'm tired of sitting around meditating imponderables and waiting for someone else to act. And I'm tired of being put off when I want to know something."

  "Do you think the answer's on Zarst?"

  "It's a secret religion. It accepts only people with a great deal of scientific education and expertise - and I do mean a great deal. I sent Wolndur to apply, and he was turned down. If there are scientists in the neighborhood capable of turning a world into a sun, Zarst is as likely to have them as anyone. Also, Zarst is almost certainly responsible for a good number of your missing scientists and technologists. Qwasrolk may have been a convert."

  "So what are you going to do?"

  "Invade the place."

  "Want me to come?"
<
br />   "No. I'm leaving you in charge of reinforcements. This has to be timed just right. Problem is, I don't know what I'm going to do until I get there. I'm going as a legitimate businessman. I'll take Gud Baxak with me. Also Raf Lolln. How many members of your detective force could masquerade as businessmen?"

  "Not many. Five or six. Maybe ten if you aren't too particular." "I'll take all ten if I can figure angles for them. Too bad Vezpro's chief proctor is a nincompoop, but he is, so we'll have to arrange everything ourselves. The government of Vezpro will cooperate fully.

  Maybe I can borrow some proctors from Skarnaf."

  "You're kidding," Miss Schlupe said. "Do you mean we're really doing something legal?"

  "We certainly are. When Zarst was granted its independence, it neglected to apply to the Galactic Synthesis for certification."

  "Ah!"

  "So all the worlds doing business with Zarst are engaged in illegal traffic with an Uncertified World - which fact hasn't occurred to any of them because they were doing business with Zarst when it was a colony, and they overlooked the significance of its change of status. Some may not know about it. But the penalties are severe if anyone wants to make a galactic case of it, and I'm mad enough to do that. Yes, Vezpro will cooperate fully. So will any other world we ask."

  "And so will Zarst, when it finds it's about to be completely isolated," Miss Schlupe observed.

  Darzek frowned. "That part's tricky. They can say, 'We have no secrets from you. Come and look at whatever you like.' But a world is a large place, and who can say how many miles of underground tunnels have concealed entrances and illegal nuclear research? So the cooperation of other worlds may not help at all. We've got to get loose on Zarst and see as much as we can before the Zarstans know we're looking."

  9

  It took five days to get the operation organized. While Darzek shifted assignments and argued with Miss Schlupe over the planning, he learned what he could about the world of Zarst and its inhabitants. By the time he finally stepped through the last of a series of transmitters and set foot on - rather, in - the planet owned by the Order of Prime Forces, he was somewhat better informed than he had been, but he couldn't call himself enlightened. The fact was that the only people who knew much about Zarst were the Zarstans, and the one thing that Darzek had established with certainty was that all the priests were sworn to secrecy concerning every aspect of their world and Order except the qualifications for joining.