The Voyage of the Space Beagle

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

When Grosvenor saw Kent again a few minutes later, the Acting Director was coolly and efficiently giving orders into a communicator. Cranes floated hi and began to remove bodies. Communicators buzzed with a criss-cross of messages. Swiftly, the whole picture clarified.

The creatures had been precipitated only into the control room. The ship’s radar registered no material object such as an enemy ship. The distance to the nearest star in any direction was a thousand light-years. All over the room, sweating men cursed as those scanty facts penetrated.

“Ten light-centuries!” Selenski, the chief pilot, said. “Why, we can’t even transmit messages that far without relays.”

Captain Leeth came hurrying in. He talked briefly to several scientists, then called a council of war. The commander began the discussion.

“I need hardly emphasize the hazard confronting us. We are one ship against what seems to be a hostile galactic civilization. For the moment we are safe behind our energy screen. The nature of the menace requires us to set ourselves limited, though not too limited, objectives. We must discover why we are being warned away. We must ascertain the nature of the danger and measure the intelligence behind it. I see our chief biologist is still examining our late adversaries. Mr. Smith, what kind of beasts are they?”

Smith turned from the monster he had been studying. He said slowly, “Earth could have produced something like their type during the dinosaur age. Judging by the minute size of what appears to be the brainpan, the intelligence must have been extremely low.”

Kent said, “Mr. Gourlay tells me the beasts could have been precipitated through hyperspace. Perhaps we could ask him to develop on that.”

Captain Leeth said, “Mr. Gourlay, you have the floor.”

The communications expert said in his familiar drawl, “It’s only a theory, and fairly recent at that, but it likens the universe to an expanded balloon. When you prick the skin, the balloon instantly starts to deflate, and simultaneously begins to repair the break. Now, oddly enough, when an object penetrates the outer skin of the balloon, it does not necessarily come back to the same point in space. Presumably, if one knew some method of controlling the phenomenon, he might use it as a form of teleportation. If all this sounds fanciful, remember that what has actually happened seems equally so.”

Kent said acidly, “It’s hard to believe that anyone is that much smarter than we are. There must be simple solutions to the problems of hyperspace, which human scientists have missed. Maybe we’ll learn something.” He paused, then said, “Korita, you’ve been singularly silent. How about telling us what we’re up against?”

The archaeologist stood up and spread his hands in a gesture of bewilderment. “I can’t even offer a guess. We shall have to learn somewhat more about the motivation behind the attack before we can make comparisons on the basis of cyclic history. For example, if the purpose was to seize the ship, then to assail us as they did was a mistake. If the intent was merely to scare us, the attack was a howling success.”

There was a flurry of laughter as Korita sat down. But Grosvenor noticed that the expression on Captain Leeth’s face remained solemn and thoughtful.

“As to motivation,” the captain said slowly, “one unpleasant possibility has occurred to me that we should be prepared to face. It fits the evidence to date. It is this: Supposing this potent intelligence, or whatever it is, would like to know where we came from?”

He paused, and from the way feet shifted and men stirred in their seats, it was clear that his words had struck a responsive chord. The officer went on. “Let’s look at it from — his — point of view. Here is a ship approaching. In the general direction from which it is coming, within ten million light-years, are a considerable number of galaxies, star clusters, and nebulae. Which is us?”

There was silence in the room. The commander turned to Kent. “Director, if it’s all right with you, I suggest we examine some of the planetary systems of this galaxy.”

Kent said, “I have no objection. But now, unless someone else….”

Grosvenor raised his hand. Kent continued, “I declare the meeting—” Grosvenor stood up, and said loudly, “Mr. Kent!”

“—adjourned!” said Kent.

The men remained sitting. Kent hesitated, and then said lamely, “I beg your pardon, Mr. Grosvenor, you have the floor.”

Grosvenor said firmly, “It is hard to believe that this being will be capable of refined interpretation of our symbols, but I think we should destroy our star maps.”

“I was about to suggest the same thing,” said von Grossen excitedly. “Continue, Grosvenor.”

There was a chorus of approval, Grosvenor went on. “We are taking action in the belief that our main screen can protect us. Actually, we have no choice but to carry on as if that were true. But when we finally land, we might be advised to have available some large encephalo-adjusters. We could use them to create confusing brain waves, and so prevent any further mind reading.”

Once more, the audience made enough noise to show that they favoured the suggestion.

Kent said in a flat voice, “Anything else, Mr. Grosvenor?” “A general comment only,” said Grosvenor. “The department heads might make a survey of material they control with a view to destroying any that might endanger our race if the Beagle were captured.”

He sat down amid a chilling silence.

As time went on, it seemed clear that the inimical intelligence was deliberately refraining from further action, or else that the screen was doing an effective job. No further incident occurred.

Lonely and remote were the suns at this distant rim of the galaxy. The first sun grew big out of space, a ball of light and heat that burned furiously into the great night. Lester and his staff located five planets close enough to the parent body to be worth investigating. One of the five — all were visited — was habitable, a world of mists and jungles and giant beasts. The ship left it after flying low over an inland sea and across a great continent of marsh growth. There was no evidence of civilization of any kind, much less the stupendous one whose existence they had reason to suspect.

The Space Beagle sped three hundred light-years, and came to a small sun with two planets crowding up close to its cherry-red warmth. One of the two planets was habitable, and it also was a world of mists and jungles and saurianlike beasts. They left it, unexplored, after darting down low over a marshy sea and a land choked with riotous growth.

There were more stars now. They pinpointed the blackness of the next hundred and fifty light-years. A large blue-white sun, with a retinue of at least twenty planets, attracted Kent’s eye; and the swift ship flashed towards it. The seven planets nearest the sun were burning hells, without hope of supporting life. The ship spiralled past three close-together planets that were habitable, and then sped off to interstellar vastness without investigating the others.

Behind them, three steamy jungle planets whirled in their orbits around the hot sun that had spawned them. And, on board, Kent called a meeting of the heads of departments and their chief assistants.

He began the discussion without preamble. He said, “Personally, I don’t think the evidence is very significant as yet. But Lester has urgently requested me to call you.” He shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll learn something.”

He paused, and Grosvenor, watching him, was puzzled by a faint aura of satisfaction that radiated from the little man. He thought, What is he up to? It seemed odd that the Acting Director had taken the trouble to disclaim in advance all credit for any good results that might come from the meeting.

Kent was speaking again, and his tone was friendly. “Gunlie, will you come up here and explain yourself?”

The astronomer climbed to the lower platform. He was a man as tall and thin as Smith. He had eyes of royal blue set in an expressionless face. But there was a hint of emotion in his voice as he spoke.

“Gentlemen, the three habitable planets of that last system were identical triplets, and it was an artificially induced state. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the current theory regarding the formation of planetary systems. Those of you who are not will perhaps take my word for it that the distribution in mass in the system we have just visited is dynamically impossible. I can say definitely that two of the three habitable planets of that sun were moved into their present position. In my opinion we should go back and investigate. Somebody seems to be deliberately creating primeval planets; for what reason I don’t pretend to guess.”

He stopped and glared belligerently at Kent. The chemist came forward, a faint smile on his face. He said, “Gunlie came to me and asked me to order that we return to one of those jungle planets. In view of his feeling on the matter, I now call for a discussion, and a vote.”

So that was it. Grosvenor sighed, not exactly with admiration for Kent, but at least with appreciation. The Acting Director had made no attempt to build up a case for his opposition. It was quite possible that he did not really oppose the astronomer’s plan. But by calling a meeting when his own views would be overruled, he was proving that he regarded himself as subject to democratic procedure. It was an adroit if somewhat demagogic means of maintaining the good will of his supporters.

Actually, there were valid objections to Lester’s request. It was hard to believe that Kent knew of them, for that would mean he was deliberately ignoring possible danger for the ship. He decided to give Kent the benefit of the doubt, and waited patiently while several scientists asked the astronomer questions of minor importance. When those had been answered, when it seemed clear that the discussion was over except for himself, Grosvenor stood up and said, “I should like to argue in favour of Mr. Kent’s viewpoint in this matter.”

Kent replied coldly, “Really, Mr. Grosvenor, the attitude of the group seems to be indicated by the briefness of the discussion so far, and taking up any more time—”

At that point, he stopped. The real meaning of Grosvenor’s words must finally have penetrated. A thunderstruck expression came into his face. He made an uncertain gesture toward the others, as if appealing for help. When no one spoke, he dropped his arm to his side and muttered, “Mr. Grosvenor, you have the floor.”

Grosvenor said firmly, “Mr. Kent is right: It is too soon. So far we have visited three planetary systems. It should be not less than thirty, taken at random. This is the minimum number, with respect to the order of magnitude of our search, that could have any conclusive significance. I shall be glad to turn over my mathematics to the mathematics department for corroboration. Moreover, in landing we would have to come out from inside our protective energy screen. We would have to be prepared to resist a surprise attack by an intelligence that can use the instantaneous medium of hyperspace to deliver his forces. I have a mental picture of a billion tons of matter projected down upon us as we sit helpless on some planet. Gentlemen, as I see it, there is a good month or two of detailed preparation ahead of us. During that time, naturally, we should visit as many suns as we can. If their habitable planets also are exclusively — or even predominantly — the primeval type, then we shall have a sound basis for Mr. Lester’s idea that it is an artificial state.” Grosvenor paused, then finished. “Mr. Kent, have I expressed what you had in mind?”

Kent had full control of himself again. “Almost precisely, Mr. Grosvenor.” He glanced about him. “Unless there are any further comments, I move that we vote on Gunlie’s proposal.”

The astronomer stood up. “I withdraw it,” he said, “I confess I hadn’t considered some of the points against an early landing.” He sat down.

Kent hesitated, then said, “If someone cares to take up Gunlie’s proposal….” When, after several seconds, no one had spoken, Kent continued confidently. “I want each department head to prepare for me a detailed account of what he can contribute to the success of the landing we must eventually make. That’s all, gentlemen.”

In the corridor outside the control room, Grosvenor felt a hand on his arm. He turned and recognized McCann, the chief geologist. McCann said, “We’ve been so busy doing repair work this last few months that I haven’t had a chance to invite you to come to my department. I anticipate that when we finally make a landing, the equipment of the geology department will be used for purposes for which it was not precisely intended. A Nexialist could come in very handy.”

Grosvenor considered that, then nodded his acceptance. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning. I want to prepare my recommendations for the Acting Director.”

McCann looked at him quickly, hesitated, and then said, “You don’t think he’ll be interested, do you?”

So others had noticed Kent’s dislike of him. Grosvenor said slowly, “Yes, because he won’t have to give individual credit.” McCann nodded, “Well, good luck to you, my boy.” He was turning away when Grosvenor stopped him. Grosvenor said, “What, in your opinion, is the basis for Kent’s popularity as a leader?”

McCann hesitated, and seemed to be deliberating. Finally he said, “He’s human. He has likes and dislikes. He gets excited about things. He has a bad temper. He makes mistakes, and tries to pretend that he didn’t. He’s desperately anxious to be director. When the ship gets back to Earth, the publicity will flow around the executive officer. There’s something of Kent in all of us. He’s — well — he’s a human being.”

“I notice,” said Grosvenor, “you didn’t say anything about his qualifications for the job.”

“It’s not a vital position, generally speaking. He can get advice from experts on anything he wants to know.” McCann pursed his lips. “It’s hard to put Kent’s appeal into words, but I think that scientists are constantly on the defensive about their alleged unfeeling intellectualism. So they like to have someone fronting for them who is emotional but whose scientific qualifications cannot be questioned.”

Grosvenor shook his head. “I disagree with you about the director’s job not being vital. It all depends on the individual as to how he exercises the very considerable authority involved.”

McCann studied him shrewdly. He said finally, “Strictly logical men like you have always had a hard time understanding the mass appeal of the Kents. They haven’t much chance against his type, politically.”

Grosvenor smiled grimly. “It’s not their devotion to the scientific method that defeats the technologists. It’s their integrity. The average trained man often understands the tactics that are used against him better than the person who uses them, but he cannot bring himself to retaliate in kind without feeling tarnished.”

McCann frowned. “That’s too pat. Do you mean you have no such qualms?”

Grosvenor was silent.

McCann persisted. “Suppose you decided that Kent ought to be ousted, what would you do?”

“At the moment my thoughts are quite constitutional,” Grosvenor said carefully.

Grosvenor was surprised to see that there was relief in McCann’s expression. The older man gripped his arm in a friendly gesture. “I’m glad to hear your intentions are legal,” he said earnestly. “Ever since that lecture you gave, I’ve realized what hasn’t yet dawned on anyone else — that you are potentially the most dangerous man on this ship. The integrated knowledge you have in your mind, applied with determination and purpose, could be more disastrous than any outside attack.”

After a moment of astonishment, Grosvenor shook his head. “That is an overstatement,” he said. “One man is too easy to kill.”

“I notice,” said McCann, “you don’t deny possessing the knowledge.”

Grosvenor held out his hand in farewell. “Thanks for your high opinion of me. Although considerably exaggerated, it’s psychologically uplifting.”