The Best of Jack Williamson

by Jack Williamson

  Immensely high, the great flat turrets swung with ominous deliberation. The huge bright tubes of rifles and launchers lifted out of their housings, implacably purposeful. Hudd called again, looking as massively indomitable as his flagship.

  “Have you met the inhabitants, Mr. Lord?”

  “Not yet, Mr. Hudd.” Relieved by the great ship's coming, Lord had his swagger back.

  “Then you soon will,” Hudd told him. “Our lookout reports a flying vehicle, approaching you now. Make contact, and report immediately.”

  We all turned to the ports, in time to see the red glint of sunlight on the rotor of a small helicopter. It landed among the young apple trees. Three people got out. One of them began waving a bit of white cloth. With a shock of dismay, I recognized Jim Cameron.

  VIII

  The three walked slowly down toward us across the young orchard. The other two paused by the dam, one of them bending to look at the bodies under the blanket. Cameron came on halfway to us, before he stopped and stood waiting.

  Watching through a port in the signal room, Lord nervously wet his lips. Beneath a puzzled unease, his beady eyes had a glare of yellow elation. He sent me out to find what Cameron wanted.

  Grinning with pleasure to see me, Cameron put down the stick with his handkerchief tied to it. Fatigue had drawn his stubbled face and smudged blue shadows under his eyes.

  “Jim, you shouldn’t have come back.” I pitched my voice too low for Lord’s gunmen, covering us from the valve. “Because you made a fool of Lord, when you got away. He’ll never forgive that. He’s got Hudd’s permission to liquidate you.”

  He grinned wearily, glancing at the two behind him.

  “You can tell Mr. Lord that he’s in no position to liquidate anybody. On the contrary—these neighbors of the Hawkins couple have come to arraign him and his guard for the murder.”

  I must have gasped with astonishment.

  “I’m afraid Lord will be unreasonable.” He frowned, regretfully. "I came along to try to prevent any needless destruction. There’s not much use for Lord to resist, and no need for others to be killed. Better tell him that.”

  Back aboard the life-craft, I told Lord what the strangers wanted. His pale, peering eyes rounded with wonderment, then narrowed to hard yellow slits. He glared malevolently out at Cameron.

  “I suppose that damned feather merchant is the chief witness? Well, I’ll fix the lot of them!” He shouted up the ladder-well to the astrogator, now acting as signal officer, “Get me Mr. Hudd!”

  I followed him into the narrow signal room.

  “It’s your pet civilian,” he shouted bitterly when Hudd’s face appeared huge and interrogative on the screen. “And a couple of yokels with some nonsense about arresting me for murder.”

  “So?” Thoughtfully Hudd rubbed his blue, multiple chin. “I want to talk to them. Offer them all three safe-conduct to come aboard. Tell them I’ll discuss compensation for the killing. You can bring them on the life-craft, Mr. Lord.”

  The negotiations which ensued were somewhat involved. I went back and forth, between Lord and Cameron. Cameron returned to consult with the watchful two by the ravine. Hudd and Lord conferred by television, Lord’s nasal voice rising steadily with ill-concealed anger, Hudd frowning with increasing concern.

  “I’d accept Mr. Hudd’s safe-conduct, myself,” Cameron told me. “But the Enlows don’t want to trust him. They are willing to talk to Mr. Hudd, but he’ll have to come out here.”

  With a surprising boldness, Hudd agreed to do that.

  "But, Mr. Hudd!” Lord protested sharply. “We can’t treat with them—two savages and a mutineering feather merchant. Think of your own safety. Why not let us take off, sir, and then wipe them out with a salvo of radiotoxin shells from the cruiser?”

  Hudd shook his head stubbornly.

  “I’m coming over, Victor, to handle this myself.” His red, worried eyes tinned to me. “Chad, you go back and tell Jim Cameron to wait till I get there.”

  Lords eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Don’t you give me up, Hudd.” His angry nasal voice was hard and dangerous. “If you do, you’re also giving up your New Directorate.”

  “I know that," Hudd assured him blandly. “You can trust me, Victor.”

  Lord dismissed me, with a curt, sullen nod. I went back across the burned grass to tell Cameron that Hudd was coming.

  “He’s smart” Cameron nodded approvingly. “Maybe he can save his neck.” He took up the white flag again. “Now we had better rejoin the Enlows,” he said. “They might misunderstand.”

  We walked back to the people waiting at the dam. I thought of Lord’s gunmen crouching in the lock behind us, and the skin on my back crawled uneasily.

  The two were a man and a young woman. They were both tanned, lean, sturdy; dark hair and gray level eyes showed a family likeness. Tight with the shock of what they had seen under the blanket, their faces were hard with purpose.

  “Are they coming out?” The man’s quiet voice was taut as his gaunt face.

  “Not yet.” Cameron was urgently persuasive. “But please give me a chance U> tell Mr. Hudd about the equalizer. I think he’s smart enough to listen.”

  The man nodded his weatherbeaten head. I saw that he carried what looked like a bulky flare-pistol. His deep-set angry eyes peered up at the enormous flagship, not at all afraid.

  “If he wants to listen,” he agreed. “But we’re going to get the killers.”

  “I’ll try to get Mr. Hudd to give them up,” Cameron promised, and then he introduced me. "Chad Barstow. A likely candidate for the Brotherhood, as soon as he learns to use the equalizer.”

  The girl wore a radiophone, much like the one we had seen in the house—it must have been such units that made those scrambled signals we had heard. The little plastic case was snapped to her belt, the headset over her lustrous hair. She had been listening to that, but now she looked at me, her eyes widening.

  “Yes, he’s Dane Barstow’s son.” Seeing her troubled glance toward the gully, Cameron added quickly, “He had nothing to do with that.”

  She gave me a strong handclasp.

  “Jane Enlow,” Cameron said. “Her father, Frank Enlow.”

  The gaunt man gripped my hand silently, but his angry eyes flashed back to the life-craft and the cruiser.

  “Before the equalizer,” Cameron told him, “Mr. Enlow was a janitor in Tyler’s Squaredeal Hall. He was just telling me about the Director’s last days. After the equalizer, he smuggled Tyler out through the mob that was shouting for him under the balcony. Tyler lived for years i» Mr. Enlow’s house over the ridge, yonder, writing a history—trying to justify his career.”

  “A nasty old man!” Jane Enlow pouted. “He wouldn’t learn the equalizer. Dad had to take care of him.”

  High up on the bright side of the cruiser, blue fire spurted. Frank Enlow crouched toward the ravine, swinging up his pistol-like device. Cameron called out, hastily:

  “Don’t shoot—that’s probably Mr. Hudd.”

  As the gaunt man relaxed, I studied his weapon with a shocked fascination. It looked like a miniature guided-missile launcher, rather than a gun. It seemed fantastically small, yet the lank man had a strangely confident air of facing the cruiser’s weapons on even terms.

  The girl was listening again to her radiphone. She twisted knobs on the case at her belt, and finally shook her dark head.

  “Nothing.” Her voice was gloomy. “They’re taking too long.”

  Hudd’s life-craft approached us swiftly, a bright projectile floating nearly upright on a jet of screaming fire. It crossed the burning forest to land near the other craft. The valves slammed open as soon as the dust had cleared, and Hudd’s aide jumped out.

  The hard-bitten commander darted across the blasted ground and hurried up to us. He seemed upset by Hudd’s decision. First he wanted Cameron and the Enlows to come aboard the life-craft to talk; then he wanted to send a bodyguard with Hudd; finally he
warned that a general bombardment of the surrounding country would begin at once, if anything happened to Hudd.

  “We’ve come for the killers,” the lean man informed him gravely. "Since Mr. Cameron has taken the Brotherhood oath, the three of us form a competent court. We’re bound to listen to any evidence that Mr. Hudd can offer. He will not be harmed, unless he tries to interfere.”

  Outraged, tbe commander went back. Immediately Mr. Julian Hudd climbed down between the bright fins. He came out of the burned area at a painful, heavy run. Gasping for breath, he waddled up to the dam.

  “Well, Jim!”

  He grinned at Cameron, shook hands with the rawboned man, gave the girl a bow of open admiration. His small, shrewd eyes studied the unfinished dam and the abandoned machine in the gully.

  “The incident here was most regrettable.” Hudd’s voice was a chesty, confident rumble. “I’ll see that adequate compensation is paid. Personally. You people needn’t concern yourselves any further.”

  His keen bloodshot eyes studied the gaunt man.

  “Now, I want to take up something more important, I’ve been trying to get in touch with your government.” His broad, blue-tinged face was still a genial mask, but his loud voice turned imperious. “I demand that your government—”

  The lank man’s voice was very quiet, yet the cold ring of it made Hudd stop to listen.

  “We have no government,” said Frank Enlow.

  Hudd puffed out his cheeks, slowly turning red with anger.

  “That’s the surprising fact, Mr. Hudd,” Cameron assured him gravely. “You’ll have to get used to it. When the equalizer appeared, nations became extinct.”

  Ignoring him, Hudd glared at the lank man.

  “You must have some organization.”

  “Only the Brotherhood,” Enlow said. “It has no power to surrender anybody to you, because membership is voluntary.”

  Hudd’s red eyes blinked, skeptical and defiant.

  “Get in touch with this Brotherhood.” His voice was rasping, arrogant. “Have them send a responsible agent. Have him here by noon, local time.” He paused, ominously. “Otherwise, the task force and Fort America will open fire, at every likely target we can find.”

  Cameron made a startled gesture, as if to catch his arm.

  “Please, Mr. Hudd,” he protested sharply. “Wait until you know what you’re doing.”

  Hudd kept his savage little eyes on Enlow.

  “The young lady, I see, has a radiophone.” His voice was loud and ominous. “You had better start calling this Brotherhood-”

  “We came here for another purpose.” The lank man met his truculent gaze, unimpressed. “We’ve come for the killers.”

  Hudd’s bluish face swelled again with anger.

  “Nonsense!” he shouted. “Mr. Lord is my second in command. He was acting under orders. I assume the responsibility. I’ll pay for any unjust damage, but I refuse to subject him to humiliation.”

  The lean man listened to that, and nodded his rawboned head, and stalked away silently toward the ravine. Cameron hurried after him, visibly alarmed.

  “The killers can wait,” he called urgently. “Doyle must be trying. Mr. Hudd doesn’t understand the equalizer. Please give me time to tell him about it.”

  The lank man turned back, reluctantly.

  “If he wants to listen,” he agreed. “We’ll wait half an hour.”

  With a question on his face, Cameron turned to Hudd.

  “All right, Jim,” Hudd gasped, explosively. “I want to know all about this equalizer, anyhow.” His red angry eyes went back to the gaunt man. “But my ships and the fort will open fire at noon.”

  IX

  Hudd sat down on a hummock of gTass, breathing hard with the effort of moving his clumsy bulk. His massive shoulders bunched with bold defiance. Only the quick movements of his eyes betrayed the intense and desperate working of his mind—they were the eyes of a fighting animal, fearful, yet audacious and altogether ruthless.

  “Now!” he gasped. “This equalizer?”

  Cameron squatted on his heels, facing Hudd. Behind us, as he talked, the sun rose higher. The flat green valley lay motionless under its hot light, and a pungent blue haze settled about us from the green forest burning.

  “I heard the story last night. The beginning of the equalizer takes us back nearly twenty years.” Cameron’s tired, dark-smudged eyes came for a moment to me. “To your own father, Chad.” His haggard and yet animated eyes went back to Hudd. “I think you remember Dane Barstow?”

  “The traitor?” rumbled Hudd. “He died, I believe, in the labor camps.”

  “But he didn’t,” Cameron said. “Because Tyler learned that he was on the trail of something remarkable, and had him taken from the camps to a solitary cell at Fort America. The SBI went to work on him there, with extreme interrogation.”

  As Cameron glanced at me again, I noticed a strange thing. The story and the memory of my father’s misfortunes brought me a bitter resentment, but now I noticed that all the old pain and hatred was gone from Cameron’s face. Something had swept away his old saturnine reserve. He seemed oddly friendly even to Hudd.

  “Finally,” he said, "Barstow talked. He told what he had done and admitted all he had hoped to do. He even agreed to complete his interrupted work.”

  I knelt down to listen.

  “Though he was half-blind and crippled from the extreme treatment, and sometimes out of his head, they took pretty drastic precautions. They kept him locked in that steel cell on the moon—one of those we saw there, I imagine', Chad.

  Two guards were always with him. He was allowed paper and pencil, but no other equipment. If he wanted calculations made, or any experiments tried, such things were done for him by Atomic Service engineers.”

  Cameron briefly smiled, as if he shared my pride.

  “Yes, Chad, your old man was all right. Working under such difficult conditions, shattered as he was, he charted a new science and created a new technology. And then—when we had been out at space about two years with the task force—he overturned the Directorate.”

  Hudd’s bold eyes had drifted back to the sun-browned girl—who was listening, not to Cameron, but anxiously to the little portable radiophone. Now he started ponderously at Cameron’s last words, to gasp for his breath and wheeze incredulously:

  "How could he do that?”

  “Not so hard, with the equalizer.” Cameron grinned at Hudd’s blinking, startled stare. “From his cell on the moon, Barstow smashed the Directorate. He didn’t need any weapons or equipment. All he had to do was tell his jailors what he had discovered."

  Hudd made a hollow, croaking sound. “How’s that?”

  “The news of the equalizer spread from one man to another,” Cameron said. “Those same engineers who had been assigned to get the invention from him set up a little illicit transmitter and beamed the details back to earth with equalizer power, on every frequency they could get through the ionosphere.

  ‘That finished the Directorate.”

  Hudd picked up a small red pebble and began nervously tapping the sod with it, as he had drummed on his desk with the little gold head of Tyler. His furtive eyes flashed to the lean man’s weapon, and back to Cameron’s face.

  “That’s too much!” His voice was harshly unbelieving. “No mere fact of science could defeat Fort America—much less wreck the Squaredeal Machine.”

  “Barstow’s equalizer did,” Cameorn said. "Perhaps because the old technology of the Atomic Age had already reached the breaking point of over-complexity and super-centralization. When Barstow created this new technology, there was a natural swing to the opposite extreme—to simplicity, individualism, and complete personal freedom.”

  “So?” Hudd thumped the sod with his pebble, scowling at Cameron. “Just how does it work, this equalizer?"

  Cameron glanced doubtfully at Frank Enlow.

  “Tell him,” the gaunt man said. “Barstow wanted every man to know. Gen
erally it has a good effect.” He glanced at a watch on his brown wrist. “But hurry — your time is running out.”

  Hudd’s great shoulders lifted with aggression.

  “So is yours,” he snapped. “I'm willing to listen, but my men won’t hear. I’m not yielding anything. This Brotherhood had better throw the towel in, by noon.”

  “Tell him,” Enlow repeated.

  Cameron launched into his explanation. His fatigue seemed forgotten, and some inner excitement made his haggard face almost vivacious.

  “The old atomic reactor, you know, was an enormously clumsy and wasteful and dangerous way of doing extremely simple things. Pure energy exists in the atom, and that is what we want. But the old atomic plants used intractable and inadequate processes to change kinetic and electrical and binding energy into heat, and then required expensive and inefficient machinery to turn a little of that heat back into electricity.

  “Even with all its elaborate complexity, the reactor plants could tap only a little of the binding energy which holds electrons and protons and neutrons together into atoms. The mass energy of the particles themselves—really nearly all the actual energy of the atom—it couldn’t even reach.

  “Barstow’s dream—like my own—was merely a simple way of doing a simple thing. Material energy exists, as Einstein demonstrated. Barstow dreamed of a simple way to let it flow. The equalizer is his dream, realized.”

  I couldn’t help the breathless interruption:

  “That piece of wire?”

  “Just a solenoid.” Cameron nodded. “But wound in a certain way, not helically, so that its field slightly alters the co-ordinates of space and slightly changes the interaction of mass and energy. The atomic particles of the solenoid are equalized, as your father termed the process. The converted energy appears as direct current in the wire.

  “The fact is simple—even though the tensors of a new geometry are required to describe the solenoid field. That apparent complexity is more in our awkward description, however, than in the vital fact. The actual specifications of the equalizer can be memorized in five minutes.”