Even before the ending of those heart-freezing days, some men had guessed the truth. This was not the first tentative contact by a race which knew nothing of man. Within those silent, unmoving ships, master psychologists were studying humanity’s reactions. When the curve of tension had reached its peak, they would act.
A.nd on the sixth day Karellen, Supervisor for Earth, made himself known to the world in a broadcast that blanketed every radio frequency. He spoke in English so perfect that the controversy it began was to rage across the Atlantic for a generation. But the context of the speech was more staggering even than its delivery. By any standards, it was a work of superlative genius, showing a complete and absolute mastery of human affairs. There could be no doubt that its scholarship and virtuosity, its tantali7ing glimpses of knowledge still untapped were deliberately designed to convince mankind that it was in the presence of overwhelming intellectual power. When Karellen had finished, the nations of Earth knew that their days of precarious sovereignty had ended. Local, internal governments would still retain their powers, but in the wider field of international affairs the supreme decisions had passed from human hands. Arguments-protests-all were futile.
It was hardly to be expected that all the nations of the world would submit tamely to such a limitation of their powers. Yet active resistance presented baffling difficulties, for the destruction of the Overlords’ ships, even if it could be achieved, would annihilate the cities beneath them. Nevertheless, one major power had made the attempt. Perhaps those responsible hoped to kill two birds with one atomic missile, for their target was floating above the capital of an adjoining and unfriendly nation.
As the great ship’s image had expanded on the television screen in the secret control room, the little group of officers and technicians must have been torn by many emotions. If they succeeded-what action would the remaining ships take?
Could they also be destroyed, leaving humanity to go its own way once more? Or would Kardllen wreak some frightful vengeance upon those who had attacked him?
The screen became suddenly blank as the missile destroyed
13
itself on impact, and the picture switched immediately to an airborne camera many miles away. In the fraction of a second that had elapsed, the fireball should already have formed and should be filling the sky with its solar flame.
Yet nothing whatsoever had happened. The great ship floated unharmed, bathed in the raw sunlight at the edge of space. Not only had the bomb failed to touch it, but no-one could ever decide what had happened to the missile. Moreover, Karellen took no action against those responsible, or~ even indicated that he had known of the attack. He ignored them contemptuously, leaving them to worry over a vengeance that never came. It was a more effective, and more demoralizing, treatment than any punitive action could have been. The government responsible collapsed completely in mutual recrimination a few weeks later.
There had also been some passive resistance to the policy of the Overlords. Usually, Karellen had been able to deal with it by letting those concerned have their own way, until they had discovered that they were only hurting themselves by their refusal to cooperate. Only once had he taken any direct action against a recalcitrant government.
For more than a hundred years, the Republic of South Africa had been the centre of social strife. Men of good will on both sides had tried to build a bridge, but in vain-fears and prejudices were too deeply ingrained to permit any cooperation. Successive governments had differed only by the degree of their intolerance; the land was poisoned with hate and the aftermath of civil war.
When it became clear that no attempt would be made to end discrimination, K.arellen gave his warning. It merely named a date and time-no more. There was apprehension, but little fear or panic, for no-one believed that the Overlords would take any violent or destructive action which would involve innocent and guilty alike.
Nor did they. All that happened was that as the sun passed the meridian at Cape Town-it went out. There remained visible merely a pale, purple ghost, giving no heat or light. Somehow, out in space, the light of the sun had been polarized by two crossed fields so that no radiation could pass. The area affected was five hundred kilometres across, and perfectly circular.
The demonstration lasted thirty minutes. It was sufficient:
14
the next day the Government of South Africa announced that full civil rights would be restored to the white minority.
Apart from such isolated incidents, the human race had accepted the Overlords as part of the natural order of things. In a surprisingly short time, the initial shock had worn off, and the world went about its business again. The greatest change a suddenly awakened Rip Van Winkle would have noticed was a hushed expectancy, a mental glancing-over-the-shoulder, as mankind waited for the Overlords to show themselves and to step down from their gleaming ships.
Five years later, it was still waiting. That, thought Stormgren, was the cause of all the trouble.
There was the usual circle of sightseers, cameras at the ready, as Stormgren’s car drove on to the launching-field. The Secretary-General exchanged a few final words with his assistant, collected his brief-case, and walked through the ring of spectators.
Karellen never kept him waiting for long. There was a sudden “Oh!” from the crowd, and a silver bubble expanded with breathtaking speed in the sky above. A gust of air tore at Stormgren’s clothes as the tiny ship came to rest fifty metres away, floating delicately a few centimetres above the ground, as if it feared contamination with Earth. As he walked slowly forward, Stormgren saw that familiar puckering of the seamless metallic hull, and in a moment the opening that had so baffled the world’s best scientists appeared before him. He stepped through it into the ship’s single, softly-lit room. The entrance sealed itself as if it had never been, shutting out all sound and sight.
It opened again five minutes later. There had been no sensation of movement, but Stormgren knew that he was now fifty kilometres above the Earth, deep in the heart of Karellen’s ship. Be was in the world of the Overlords: all around him, they were going about their mysterious business. He had come nearer to them than had any other man: yet he knew no more of their physical nature than did any of the millions on the world below.
The little conference room at the end of the short connecting corridor was unfurnished apart from the single chair and the table beneath the vision screen. As was intended, it told
15
absolutely nothing of the creatures who had built it. The vision screen was empty now, as it had always been. Sometimes in his dreams Stormgren had imagined that it had suddenly flashed into life, revealing the secret that tormented all the world. But the dream had never come true: behind that rectangle of darkness lay utter mystery. Yet there also lay power and wisdom, an immense and tolerant understanding of mankind-and, most unexpected of all, a humorous affection fbr the little creatures crawling on the planet beneath.
From the hidden grille came that calm, never-hurried voice that Stormgren knew so well though the world had heard it only once in history. Its depth and resonance gave the single clue that existed in Karellen’s physical nature, fbr it left an overwhelming impression of sheer size. Karellen was large-perhaps much larger than a man. It was true that some scientists, after analyzing the record of his only speech, had suggested that the voice was that of a machine~ This was something that Stormgren could never believe.
“Yes, Rikki, I was listening to your little interview. What did you make of Mr. Wainwright?”
“He’s an honest man, even if many of his supporters aren’t. What are we going to do about him? The League itself isn’t dangerous-but some of its extremists are openly advocating violence. I’ve been wondering if I should put a guard on my house. But I hope it isn’t necessary.”
Kardlien evaded the point in the annoying way he sometimes had.
“The details of the World Federation have been out for a month now. Has there been a substantial increase in the seven per cent who don’t approve of me-or the twelve per cent who Don’t Know?”
“Not yet. But that’s of no importance: what does worry me is a general feeling, even among your supporters, that it’s time this secrecy came to an end.”
Karellen’s sigh was technically perfect, yet somehow lacked conviction.
“That’s your feeling too, isn’t it?”
The question was so rhetorical that Stormgren did not bother to answer it.
“I wonder if you really appreciate,” he continued earnestly, “how difficult this state of affairs makes my job?”
“It doesn’t exactly help mine,” replied Karellen with some