Eye

by Frank Herbert

  "Yes, sir." The lieutenant hurried away.

  Page turned back to Hulser, who had mounted the projector on its tripod, and now stood beside it.

  "All ready, sir," said Hulser. "Shall I connect the cable?"

  "What do you think?" asked Page.

  "We're as ready as we'll ever be."

  "O.K. Connect it, then stand by with the switch in your hands."

  Hulser turned to comply. And now, as the moment of the critical test approached, he felt his legs begin to tremble. He felt sure that everyone could see his nervousness.

  A tense stillness came over the people in the shed.

  General Savage and his visitor approached. The general was explaining the theory of the projector.

  His visitor nodded.

  Seen close-up, the other man gave the same impression of hard competence that radiated from General Savage—only more competent, harder. His cheekbones were like two ridges of tan rock beneath cavernous sockets, brooding dark eyes.

  General Savage pointed to the black mound of explosives in the distance. "We have instruments in there with the explosives, sir. The wires connect them with our recorders here in the shed. We have several types of explosives to be tested, including kerosene, gasoline, engine oil. Everything we could lay our hands on except atomics. But if these things blow, then we'll know the projector also will work on atomics."

  The visitor spoke, and his voice came out with a quality like a stick dragged through gravel. "It was explained to me that— the theory being correct—this projector will work on any petroleum fuel, including coal."

  "Yes, sir," said Savage. "It is supposed to ignite coal. We have a few lumps in a sack to one side. You can't see it because of the snow. But our instruments will tell us which of these things are effected—" he glanced at Hulser "—if any."

  Colonel Page returned from checking the recording instruments.

  Savage turned to the colonel. "Are we ready, Ed?"

  "Yes, general." He glanced at Hulser, nodded. "Let's go, Larry. Give it power."

  Hulser depressed the switch in his hand, involuntarily closed his eyes, then snapped them open and stared at the distant explosives.

  A low humming arose from the projector.

  Page spoke to the general. "It'll take a little time for the effect to build u—"

  As he started to say "up" the mound of explosives went up in a giant roaring and rumbling. Colonel Page was left staring at the explosion, his mouth shaped to say "p."

  Steam and dust hid the place where the explosives had been.

  The gravel voice of the visitor spoke behind Hulser. "Well, there goes the whole shooting match, general. And I do mean shooting!"

  “It's what we were afraid of, sir," said Savage. "But there's no help for it now." He sounded bitter.

  Hulser was struck by the bitterness in both voices. He turned, became conscious that the lieutenant whom Page had reprimanded was beating at a flaming breast pocket, face livid. The people around him were laughing, trying to help.

  Page had hurried along the line of recorders, was checking each one.

  The significance of the lieutenant's antics suddenly hit Hulser. Matches! He forgot his spare matches after losing his cigarette lighter! Hulser glanced to where the colonel had thrown the lighter, saw a black patch in the snow.

  Page returned from checking the recorders. "We can't be sure about the coal, but as nearly as we can determine, it touched off everything else in the stack!" He put an arm on Hulser's shoulder. "This young genius has won the war for us."

  Savage turned, scowled at Hulser.

  The (civilian?) snorted.

  But Hulser was staring out at the explosion crater, a look of euphoria on his face.

  The technicians were moving out into the area now, probing cautiously for unexploded fragments.

  The general and his visitor exchanged a glance that could have meant anything.

  Savage signaled his radio operator to call for transportation.

  Presently, a line of weasels came roaring up to the test site.

  Savage took Hulser's arm in a firm grip. "You'd better come with us. You're a valuable piece of property now."

  Hulser's mind came back to the curious conversation between Savage and the visitor after the explosion, and he was struck by the odd sadness in the general's voice. Could he be an old war dog sorry to see it end? Somehow, on looking at the general, that didn't fit.

  They sped across the barrens to the base, Hulser uncomfortable between the general and his visitor. Apparently, no one wanted to discuss what had just happened. Hulser was made uncomfortable by the lack of elation around him. He looked at the back of the driver's neck, but that told him nothing.

  They strode into the general's office, an oblong room without windows. Maps lined the walls. A low partition separated one space containing two barren tables from another space containing three desks one set somewhat apart. They crossed to the separate desk.

  Savage indicated his visitor. "This is Mr. Sladen." There was a slight hesitation on the "mister."

  Hulser suppressed a desire to salute, shook hands. The other man had a hard grip in an uncalloused hand.

  Sladen's gravelly baritone came out brusque and commanding. "Brief him, general. I'll go get my people and their gear together. We'll have to head right back."

  Savage nodded. "Thank you, sir. I'll get right at it."

  Sladen cast a speculative look at Hulser. "Make sure he understands clearly what has just happened. I don't believe he's considered it."

  "Yes, sir."

  Sladen departed.

  Hulser felt an odd sinking sensation in his stomach.

  Savage said, "I'm not rank happy, Hulser, and we haven't much time. We're going to forget about military formality for a few minutes."

  Hulser nodded without speaking.

  "Do you know what has just happened?" asked Savage.

  "Yes, sir. But what puzzles me is that you people don't seem pleased about our gaining the whip hand so we can win this war. It's—"

  "It's not certain that we have the whip hand." Savage sat down at his desk, picked up a book bound in red leather.

  "You mean the enemy—"

  "Bright ideas like yours just seem to float around in the air, Hulser. They may already have it, or they could be working on it. Otherwise, I'd have seen that your brainstorm was buried. It seems that once human beings realize something can be done, they're not satisfied until they've done it."

  "Have there been any signs that the enemy—"

  "No. But neither have they seen any signs of our new weapon ... I hope. The point is: we do have it and we're going to use it. We'll probably overwhelm them before they can do anything about it. And that'll be the end of this war."

  "But, if explosives are made obsolete, that'll mean an end to all wars" protested Hulser. "That's what I'm concerned about!"

  The general sneered. "Nothing, my bright-eyed young friend, has thus far made war impossible! When this one's over, it'll be just a matter of time until there's another war, both sides using your projector."

  "But, sir—"

  "So the next war will be fought with horse cavalry, swords, crossbows and lances," said Savage. "And there'll be other little improvements!" He slammed the red book onto his desk, surged to his feet. "Elimination of explosives only makes espionage, poisons, poison gas, germ warfare—all of these—a necessity!"

  "How can you—"

  "Don't you understand, Hulser? You've made the military use of explosives impossible. That means gasoline. The internal combustion motor is out. That means jet fuels. Airplanes are out. That means gunpowder. Everything from the smallest sidearm to the biggest cannon is out!"

  "Certainly, but—"

  "But we have other alternatives, Hulser. We have the weapons King Arthur used. And we have some modern innovations: poison gases, curare-tipped crossbow bolts, bacterial—"

  "But the Geneva Convention—"

  "Geneva Convention be
damned! And that's just what will happen to it as soon as a big enough group of people decide to ignore it!" General Savage hammered a fist on his desk. "Get this! Violence is a part of human life. The lust for power is a part of human life. As long as people want power badly enough, they'll use any means to get it—fair or foul! Peaceful or otherwise!"

  "I think you're being a pessimist, sir."

  "Maybe I am. I hope I am. But I come from a long line of military people. We've seen some things to make us pessimists."

  "But the pressures for peace—"

  "Have thus far not been strong enough to prevent wars, Hulser." The general shook his head. "I'll tell you something, my young friend: When I first saw the reference to your ideas in the charges against you, I had the sinking sensation one gets when going down for the third time. I hoped against hope that you were wrong, but I couldn't afford not to investigate. I hoped that Major Lipari and Sergeant Chamberlain had you pegged for—"

  The general stopped, glared at Hulser. "There's another bone I have to pick with you! Your treatment of two fine soliders was nothing short of juvenile! If it wasn't for the Liparis and the Chamberlains, you'd be getting thirty lashes every morning from your local slavekeeper!"

  "But, sir—"

  "Don't 'But, sir' me, Hulser! If there was time before you leave, I'd have you deliver personal apologies to both of them!"

  Hulser blushed, shook his head. "I don't know. All I really know is that I was sure my idea would work, and that Lipari and Chamberlain didn't understand. And I knew if I was killed, or if my idea wasn't developed, the enemy might get it first."

  Savage leaned back against his desk, passed a hand across his eyes. "You were right, of course. It's just that you were bucking the system, and you're not the right kind to buck the system. Your kind usually fails when you try."

  Hulser sighed.

  "You're now a valuable piece of property, my lad. So don't feel sorry for yourself. You'll be sent home where you can be around when your wife has that child."

  Hulser looked surprised.

  "Oh, yes, we found out about her," said Savage. "We thought at first you were just working a good dodge to get home to her." He shrugged. "You'll probably have it fairly soft now. You'll be guarded and coddled. You'll be expected to produce another act of genius! The Lord knows, maybe you are a genius."

  "You wait and see, sir. I think this will mean an end to all wars."

  The general suddenly looked thoughtful. "Hulser, a vastly underrated and greatly despised writer—in some circles—once said, 'There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.' That's a very deep statement, Hulser. And there you are, way out in front with 'a new order of things.' I hope for the sake of that child you're going to have—for the sake of all children—that we don't have another war." He shrugged. "But I don't hold out too—"

  Sladen popped back into the office. "Our air cover's coming up, general. We'll have to take him like he is. Send his gear along later, will you?"

  "Certainly, sir." Savage straightened, stuck out his right hand, shook with Hulser. "Good luck, Hulser. You take what I said to heart. It's the bitter truth that men of war have to live with. You weren't attacking the source of the problem with your bright idea. You were attacking one of the symptoms."

  Savage's left hand came up from his desk with the red book. "Here's a gift for that child you're going to have." He pressed the book into Hulser's hands. "The next generation will need to understand this book."

  Hulser had time to say, "Thank you, sir." Then he was propelled out the door by Sladen.

  It was not until he was on the plane winging south that Hulser had an opportunity to examine the book. Then he gripped it tightly in both hands, stared out the window at the sea of clouds. The book was a limited edition copy, unexpurgated, of the works of Niccolo Machiavelli, the master of deceit and treachery.

  EPILOGUE

  Many people labor under the misapprenhension that the discovery of the Hulser Detonator was made in a secret government laboratory. In actuality, the genius of Dr. Lawrence Hulser was first seen on the Arctic battlefields of 1972 where he conceived his idea and where that idea was immediately recognized.

  Beecher Carson,

  "The Coming of the Sword—A History of Ancient and Modern Wars" —Vol. 6, p. 112.

  A MATTER OF TRACES

  Herday, Domen 18, 7102 (N.C.)

  Wershteen City, Aspidiske VII

  The Special Subcommittee on Intergalactic Culture (see page 33) met, pursuant to call, at 1600 in the committee room, 8122 Senate Office Building, Wershteen City, Senator Jorj C. Zolam, chairman of the subcommittee, presiding.

  Also present: Senator Arden G. Pingle of Proxistu I; Mergis W. Ledder, counsel to the subcommittee; Jorj X. McKie, saboteur extraordinary to the committee.

  Senator Zolam: The subcommittee will be in order. Our first witness will be the Hon. Glibbis Hablar, Secretary of Fusion.

  We are glad to see you, Mr. Secretary. We believe that you have some of the best cultural fusion experts in the universe working in your Department, and we are in the habit of leaning heavily upon them for our records of factual data.

  As you know, our subcommittee is working under Senate Resolution 1443 of the 803rd Congress, First Session, to make a full and complete investigation of complaints received from economy groups that the Historical Preservation Teams of the Bureau of Cultural Affairs are excessively wasteful of their funds.

  Now, Mr. Secretary, I understand that you are prepared to present a sample of the work being done by your Historical Preservation Teams.

  Secretary Hablar: Yes, Senator. I have here a tri-di record of an interview with one of the early pioneers to Gomeisa III, also a transcription of the interview, and some explanatory matter necessary for a complete understanding of this exhibit.

  Senator Zolam: Do you wish to project the tri-di at this time?

  Secretary Hablar: Unfortunately, Senator, I am unable to do that. My projector has been officially sabotaged—presumably to save the time of the committee. I am embarrassed by my inability to...

  Senator Zolam: Committee Saboteur McKie will enter an official explanation for the record.

  Saboteur McKie: The Secretary may make the official excuse that his tri-di recording was faulty.

  Secretary Hablar: Thank you, Mr. McKie. Your courtesy is deeply appreciated. May I add to my official excuse that the faulty recording is attributable to antiquated equipment which our appropriation for the last biennium was insufficient to renew or replace?

  Senator Zolam: That request will be considered later by the full committee. Now, Mr. Secretary, you do have a written transcription of this interview?

  Secretary Hablar: Yes, Senator.

  Senator Zolam: What is the significance of this particular interview?

  Secretary Hablar: The interview was recorded at Lauh Village on Gomeisa III. We consider this interview to be one of the best we've ever recorded. It is particularly interesting from the standpoint of the cultural tracings revealed in the vernacular used by the elderly gentleman interviewed.

  Senator Zolam: Who did your men interview?

  Secretary Hablar: His name is Hilmot Gustin. Students of in- tergalactic familial relationships recognize the name Gustin, or Gusten, or Gousting, or Gaustem—as stemming from the cultural milieu of Procyon out of the Mars Migration.

  Senator Zolam: Will you identify this Gustin for the record, please?

  Secretary Hablar: His parents took him to Gomeisa III in the pioneer days when he was nine-years-old. That was the year 6873, New Calendar, making him 238-years old now. Gustin's family was in the second migratory wave that arrived three standard years after the first settlement. He is now retired, living with a niece.

  Senator Zolam: Do you have a likeness of Gustin?

  Secretary Hablar: Only on the wire, Senator. However, he is described in one of th
e team reports as... excuse me a moment, I believe I have the report right here. Yes... as "... a crotchety old citizen who looks and acts about half his age. He is about two meters tall, narrow face, long gray hair worn in the ancient twin-braid style, watery blue eyes, a sharp chin and enormous ears and nose."

  Senator Zolam: A very vivid description.

  Secretary Hablar: Thank you, Senator. Some of our people take an artistic pride in their work.

  Senator Zolam: That's quite apparent, Mr. Secretary. Now, are you prepared to submit the transcribed interview at this time? Secretary Hablar. Yes, Senator. Do you want me to read it? Senator Zolam: That will not be necessary. Submit it to the robo-sec here, and the interview will be printed at this point in the record.

  INTERVIEW WITH HILMOT GUSTIN, PIONEER SETTLER ON GOMEISA III, TAKEN BY HISTORICAL PRESERVATION

  PRESERVATION OF CULTURAL AND HISTORICAL TRACES

  IN

  THE GOMEISA PLANETS BY THE BUREAU OF CULTURAL AFFAIRS HEARINGS

  before the

  SPECIAL SUBCOMMITTEE ON INTERGALACTIC CULTURE

  of the

  COMMITTEE ON GALACTIC FUSION, DISPERSION,

  MIGRATION AND SETTLEMENT

  INTERGALACTIC SENATE

  803rd CONGRESS

  First Session

  pursuant to S. Res. 1443

  A resolution to investigate the activities of the Historical Preservation Teams of the Bureau of Cultural Affairs

  _________

  Part 1

  Intergalactic Department of Fusion, Bureau of Cultural Affairs

  Domen 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26: 7102

  (New Calendar)

  Printed for the use of the Committee on Galactic Fusion, Dispersion, Migration and Settlement

  TEAM 579 OF THE BUREAU OF CULTURAL AFFAIRS, DEPARTMENT OF FUSION.

  Interviewer Simsu Yaggata: Here we are in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Presby Kilkau in the village of Lauh, Gomeisa III. We are here to interview Hilmot Gustin, the gentleman seated across from me beside his niece, Mrs. Kilkau. Mr. Gustin is one of the few surviving pioneers to Gomeisa III, and he has kindly agreed to tell us some of the things he experienced first-hand in those early days. I want to thank you, Mrs. Kilkau, for your hospitality in inviting me here today.