"Dawnman Planet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)IISomeone in the first row of the audience snorted ridicule and called up, “Because of that little creature in there? Don’t be a flat!” The Commissioner of Section G looked at him bleakly. “It should occur, even to the physically conscious Grand Duke of the Planet Romanoff, that the size of the creature in question has nothing to do with it.” He tapped his head significantly. “It is what is in here that brought us up short. You see, the little fellow was picked up by one of our Space Forces scouts well over a century ago.” “A century!” one of his listeners bleated. “And we are only informed today?” A buzz began again, but Metaxa held up a wary hand. “Please. That is one of the things I am here to explain. Our little alien was found in what could have only been a one-man fighter scout. He was dead, his craft blasted and torn, obviously from some weapon’s fire. His own vessel was highly equipped with what could only have been weapons: most so damaged, our engineers have yet to figure them out. To the extent they have been able to reconstruct them, they’ve been flabbergasted. “The conclusions are obvious. Our intelligent alien, in there, was killed in an interplanetary conflict. How long he had been drifting in space, our technicians couldn’t determine, possibly only for months, but possibly for any number of centuries. But the important thing is that there was at least one other warlike, aggressive life form in the galaxy, besides man. Probably, at least two, since it was interplanetary war, which killed our specimen.” The buzz rose again, and was not to be silenced for a time. Ross Metaxa stood and waited it out. But they were anxious for his revelations and finally silence ruled. He dropped another bomb. “But we no longer need fear our friend in the other room. Man is in no danger from him and his species.” That set them off once more, but he held firm in silence until they quit their shouting of questions, their inter-audience squabblings, chattering and debate. At last he held up a hand, and said, “Let me leave that statement for a time. Let me lay a foundation upon which to base what we must discuss today.” He looked out at them, thoughtfully. “Most of you are going to have some reservations about what I have to say. “Fellow citizens of United Planets: When man first began to erupt into the stars, but a few centuries ago, his travels assumed a form that few could have foreseen. All but lemming-like, he streamed from the planet of his origin. And the form his colonizing took, soon lost all scheme of planning, all discipline. The fact was that any group that could float the wherewithal to buy or rent a space transport, or convert a freighter, could take off into the stars to found their own version of Utopia. “And take off they did, without rhyme or reason. No, I recall that statement. Reasons they had aplenty: Racial reasons, religious reasons, political reasons, idealistic reasons, romantic reasons, socio-economic reasons, altruistic reasons and mercenary reasons. In a way, I suppose we duplicated, a hundredfold, the motivations the Europeans found to colonize the New World. The Spanish came with sword and harquebus in search of gold, ready to slaughter all who stood before them. The Pilgrims came to seek a new land, where they could practice a somewhat stilted religion, in a manner denied them at home. Large numbers of criminals came, either as convicts being exiled or fugitives from justice. Adventurers of every type zeroed-in, seeking their fortunes. Later, large numbers of Germans came, fleeing political persecution, and large numbers of Irish, fleeing famine.” Ross Metaxa grunted, and flicked his heavy head. “And so it was in space. And in the early years, in particular, there was comparatively little friction. The galaxy is immense, and thus far, we have but touched a slightest segment of it. We are way out in a sparsely populated spiral arm, but there are still inhabitable planets in vast multitude and room for all. Every spacer-load of idealists or crackpots could safely find their habitable planet and settle down to go to hell in their own way.” There was a mumble of discontent over the manner in which he was expressing himself, but he went on, ignoring the objections. “However, in time, some of our more aggressive planets began to have growing pains. Planets, settled by such groups as the Amish, began to worry about their neighbors on the Planet Füehrerland. This had been settled by a disgruntled group of followers of a political leader of the 20th Century, who had come to disaster in his own time, but whose tradition came down through the years, somewhat distorted in his favor, as traditions are apt to become. Suffice to say that United Planets, based here on Mother Earth, came into being. Its purpose, of course, was obvious. To assist man in his explosion into the stars. The very basis of the organization was Articles One and Two of the United Planets Charter. Citizeness Kasansky, please.” Irene Kasansky, without looking up, read into her desk mike. “Article One: Ronny Bronston knew, even as she read, that not only Irene, but everyone present in the hall knew the articles by heart. Metaxa was simply using this bit of business to emphasize his fling. When she was done, Metaxa nodded ponderously. “Over the centuries, most planets, though not all, have joined up. Whatever their stated reasons, usually very highflown ones, the actuality is that each wishes the protection of the Charter. Each planet desperately holds on to its own sovereignty.” There was a buzz again, and again he ignored it. “Always remember, that within our almost three-thousand member planets are represented just about every political and every socio-economic system ever dreamed up by philosophers and economists since Plato, and every religion since the White Goddess, the Triple Goddess, prevailed throughout the Mediterranean. A planet whose economy is based on chattle slavery doesn’t want to have its institutions subverted by adherents of feudalism. And a planet with feudalistic institutions doesn’t want some entrepreneur from another planet, flying the flag of free enterprise, to come along with creeping capitalism. An atheistic planet, such as Ingersol, doesn’t want a bevy of fanatical missionaries from Byzantium, working away at its youth, which hasn’t been exposed to religion for centuries.” His All Holiness of the Holy Theocracy of the Planet Bysantium called out in a fine rage. “I protest your levity, Commissioner.” Ross Metaxa ignored him. “All this is not new to you. But, somewhat over a century ago, matters changed, overnight and drastically. Our Spaces Forces brought in our little alien, there in the next room. Suddenly we had to face it. Man is not alone in the galaxy. Thus far, we had thought to be. Nowhere, in our explorations, though, admittedly, they have been but a pinprick on the chart of the Milky Way, did we find signs of intelligent life. Lower life forms, yes, occasionally. But never intelligent life of, say, even the order of the chimpanzee of Earth. But now we had to face the fact that there is intelligent, aggressive, scientifically and militarily advanced life in our galaxy; and, obviously, sooner or later, man, in his expansion into the stars, will come up against it. It was but a matter of time.” Someone called out. “Perhaps this life form is benevolent!” Ross nodded his shaggy head. “Perhaps it is,” he answered simply. His words brought a deep silence. These were not stupid men and women. Largely, they were the cream of the planets they represented. The inference was obvious. Ross Metaxa dropped another bomb. “So it was,” he went on, “that the nature of United Planets changed. Unbeknownst to the individual member planets, a new purpose for its being evolved. There was heavy electricity in the air. “No longer was it practical for man to allow such groups as the naturalists—who colonized the planet, Mother—to settle into their desired Stone Age society, rejecting all of man’s scientific advance down through the ages. No longer could we condone the presence among our number of the Planet Kropotkin, based on the anarchist ethic that no man is capable nor has the right to judge another. No longer were planets such as Monet to be borne.” “Monet?” someone shouted in query. Ross Metaxa said, “Originally colonized by a group of artists, musicians, painters, and sculptors, who had visions of starting a new race devoted entirely to the arts. They were so impractical that they crashed their ship, lost communication with the rest of the race, and, when rediscovered, had slipped into a military theocracy something like the Aztecs of Mexico. Their religion was based on that of ancient Phoenecia, including child sacrifice to the god, Moloch. Monet, too, claimed the benefits of Articles One and Two, wishing no interference with their institutions.” The representative from Goshen, the bully-boy, who had had the run in with the Section G guards earlier, lumbered to his feet. His voice was dangerous. “And what was this new policy adopted by United Planets, unbeknown, as you say, to the member planets themselves?” The Commissioner made a gesture with a heavy paw. “Is it not obvious, Your Excellency? It became the task of United Planets, though but a fraction of us have been privy to the fact, to advance the human race, scientifically, industrially, culturally, socio-economically, as fast as it was possible to do so.” The shaggy head lowered, and Ross Metaxa glowered out at them, in their shocked silence. “No matter A roar went through the hall and he waited it out. At long last he was able to say, “Nothing could be allowed to stand in the way of the most rapid advance of which we were capable. Sooner or later, we knew, we would come in contact with the potential enemy. A potential friend, too, of course, but that must remain to be seen. Man must be as strong as possible, when the confrontation takes place.” Sidi Hassen of the Planet Medina was standing. All eyes went to him. Medina was one of the strongest planets in the union, though its government was one of the most repressive. He said, “Commissioner Metaxa, it is obvious that all this is but a build-up. You have admitted that Mother Earth, home of United Planets, has been secretly subverting the institutions of the member planets. Now tell us why it has been necessary to reveal the fact to us, at this late date.” There was a dangerous element in his voice. Sid Jakes chuckled under his breath and whispered to Ronny Bronston, standing beside him. “Our friend has probably just realized where some of his Underground troubles originated. If the boys have been briefing me correctly, that Hereditary Democratic-Dictatorship of his isn’t going to last the week out.” The head of Section G nodded agreement. “Very well,” he said. “As I mentioned earlier, the charred body you were all invited to see no longer indicates a threat to us.” He paused, wanting the drama. “ “Because, a few weeks ago, a small exploration task force, driving out beyond the point thus far ventured to, by even the most adventurous of our race, came upon the three star systems which were the origin of our little dead space traveler.” “You mean,” the burly representative from Goshen roared, “that we now know where the sneaky little rats come from and they only dominate three star systems?” Metaxa nodded. “From all we can find, they had evidently spread over a complex of some twelve planets. Planets similar in nature to those that will support our own life form. Our little aliens were also oxygen breathers.” He grunted and flicked his head in his dour, characteristic mannerism. “I see most of you have noted my use of the past tense.” He dropped his last bomb. “Our exploring fleet found that each of their twelve planets were now supporting a methane-hydrogen-ammonia atmosphere. They found also that evidently the switch in atmospheres, from one predominately nitrogen-oxygen, had come so suddenly that the inhabitants had no time to attempt protection. They died. Perhaps some survived for a time, including those that might have been in space, when the atmosphere was switched. If so, it would seem they were destroyed by other means. Perhaps our specimen in the other room was one of these. At any rate, ladies and gentlemen of the human race, this whole life form has been completely destroyed by some other intelligent alien life form beyond it.” He looked about the large hall with its some two thousand rulers of the member planets. “That, by the way, should be at least a partial answer to the question of whether or not this life form, still further beyond, can be considered benevolent.” There were a hundred questions being roared at him. He ignored them, largely, trying to answer a few that seemed more pertinent. Someone called, “Where was this discovery of the three star systems made?” Metaxa said, “Surprisingly near our member planet of Phrygia, which, of course, is the furtherest from Mother Earth in the direction of the galaxy’s center.” Irene Kasansky turned to Sid Jakes and said, “Terry wants to talk to you.” She handed him a Section G hand communicator. Sid spoke into it, his eyes darting around the crowded conference room even as he spoke. He snapped, “All right, I’ll be right over.” He handed the communicator back to Irene, and said to Ronny Branston, “Come on, Ronny. They’re going to be yelling back and forth in here for hours.” Out in the corridor, Ronny said, “What’s up?” The Supervisor summoned a three wheeler. “Terry’s cracked that news-hen Daniels, or whatever her name is. Metaxa doesn’t need us for awhile. Let’s see what she has to say. Imagine that mopsy’s gall, trying to crack Section G security.” They climbed onto the three wheeler, and Sid Jakes dialed Interrogation. Ronny said mildly, “If you ask me, the woman’s pretty stute to have got as far as she did. We ought to recruit her.” “Sure, sure,” Sid Jakes laughed. “She’d stay with us for a year or so, until she knew every secret in the Commissariat, then go running back to Interplanetary News again. Once a newshound, always… Oops, here we are.” Interrogation had come a long way since the days of the Gestapo of the Third Reich, or even the cellar room with the bright light and the rubber hoses of the Land of Liberty. Rita Daniels was sitting at her ease in a comfortable chair. Terry Harper was across from her. There was a low table with refreshments between them. Inconspicuously in the background was a Section G stenographer, in case human witness were necessary. Terry got up when his supervisor entered. He was an old-timer in the bureau, due soon for retirement, which he didn’t look forward to. Section G operatives were strong on the dream. He said, “Sid, as far as the girl knows, only her editor is aware she’s here.” While Ronny Bronston sank into a chair, Sid Jakes perched on the stenographer’s desk. He said pleasantly to the news-woman, “And how did he find out something was cooking at the Commissariat of Interplanetary Affairs?” The other’s face worked under the pressure of trying to fight off the influence of the drug. “I don’t know,” she said. Sid looked at Terry. “You sent a man over to the editor yet?” “Not yet, Sid. Since, so far as she knows, only the editor is involved, I though you might want to play it as stute as possible. If we don’t have to throw weight around, well and good.” Sid patted him on the arm, happily. “Good man, Terry.” He spun on Ronny. “Get over to Interplanetary News…” He looked at Rita Daniels, “What’s this editor’s name?” “Rosen. He’s on the Octagon desk.” Sid’s eyes darted back to Ronny. “Bring him over, but in such a way that no ripples are started in his office.” “Oh, great,” Ronny said. “No ripples. Just sugar talk him into coming into our lair, eh?” Sid Jakes grinned at him happily. “Ronny, old boy, if you can’t do it ripplelessly, nobody can. You’re the most inconspicuous man in the bureau.” “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” |
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