“The events of the last few days have given the computer some new data to work on. That uprising came within a hairbreadth of success. The computer now knows it can be destroyed. One of the computer’s built-in directives is that it safeguard itself, so long as the resulting actions aren’t inimical to the long-term welfare of the populace. That directive is now brought into operation.”
“I see. But why call me?”
“I’ve been thinking things over for the last couple of days. Believe me, I haven’t thought as much in most years as I’ve thought in the last couple days. The thing is perfectly obvious. First, there’s the worst upheaval we’ve ever had on this planet. Following this, we have the most fantastic set of exasperating petty-sabotage operations, in turn followed by utter silence. Then, there is one concentrated burst of violence, followed again by silence. We have this two days in a row.”
On the 3-V, Kelty shook his head. “By no stretch of the imagination could a thing like this come about by accident. This is a demonstration of control that stuns the mind. Control by whom? The most searching investigation, using surveillance devices all over the City, reveals not the slightest evidence of how it’s done. So we’re blocked there. But who could provide the leadership for a thing like this? Only the technicians, or complete outsiders. I happen to know that the technicians are in no position to do it. With them, in that wilderness, it’s touch-and-go.
“Now then,” said Kelty, “where does this leave us? We have the following events: You and your cargo-control officer present yourselves to the City government, requesting repairs. You are refused. A couple weeks go by, and someone masterminds an attack that all but destroys the entity that refused you help. Following this, there is a demonstration that someone is exercising nearly absolute control over the populace. All I can say is, I’m sorry I was so slow to catch on. I’ve put the problem to the computer in the light of these facts, and it is prepared to rebuild the Class II repair facility at once, especially if you’ll hold down the destructiveness of the populace until the work is done.”
Roberts waited until he was reasonably sure he had control of his voice. “Kelty, you understand that I don’t admit interfering in the internal affairs of this planet?”
Kelty nodded glumly.
“However,” said Roberts, “from what you’ve told me, and from what we’ve seen watching the 3-V, it does seem that this destructiveness you speak of ought to die down for long enough to get the repair facility completed.”
Kelty sighed in relief. “Consider it done. Listen, Roberts—”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know who you really are, or what are your intentions. With such power as you’ve demonstrated, obviously you’re far more than the captain of a cargo ship. I don’t ask you to admit that. All I say is this: If you decide to fit this planet into your plans, just tell me what you want done. Is that all right, Roberts?”
“I hear you,” said Roberts, fighting to keep his voice even.
“That’s all I ask,” said Kelty. “I’m sorry it took me so long to catch on.”
The three-dimensional image faded out.
Roberts turned off the communicator.
Morrissey said, in a surprised voice, “That’s it. That’s what we’ve been trying for.”
Hammell said hesitantly, “You know, he’s right. With this device, we could exercise enormous power.” He paused. “But, of course, we wouldn’t want to.”
“Of course not,” said Roberts, scowling.
“It would be selfish,” said Morrissey.
They dropped the subject, but it hung in the air afterward.
* * *
The days till now, having been filled with trouble and danger, had crept past a minute at a time. The following days, filled with success, went by in a flash. Suddenly the repair facility was done, the special tools made, the repairs finished, and the three injured men were on their way back to the tender. Roberts, Hammell, and Morrissey disassembled the want-generator, and stood watching the city on the 3-V.
“Well,” said Hammell, “believe me, we earned those repairs.”
On the screen, the people had changed in a way that was hard to pin down, but that came across as a marked increase in self-respect and self-reliance.
Morrissey said exasperatedly, “The planet’s still a mess, though. Look there.”
A group of youths stalked past, four abreast, wearing armbands marked with triple thunderbolts. They were neat, trim, and confident; the rest of the citizens hastened to get off the sidewalk as they approached.
A roboid policeman cruised by, plainly uncertain just what to do about this phenomenon.
“Somewhere,” said Morrissey, “there must be someone in that city who did a lot of thinking—about just how much power he could get, with the right organization.”
Hammell nodded. “Kelty’s going to have a great time when that outfit gets going.”
Roberts was frowning at the screen. He could sense what was coming. Morrissey and Hammell both had a feeling of dissatisfaction. The job wasn’t done yet.
Hammell said, “We’ve all got accumulated leave coming. I was wondering—”
Morrissey was frowning at the screen. “That’s a thought. We ought to be able to finish this.”
Hammell and Morrissey glanced questioningly at Roberts. Something told Roberts that they were not asking his opinion as to whether they should come back. They were asking if he wanted to come back with them.
Kelty’s last comment occurred to Roberts. Kelty thought some gigantic cosmic plan was afoot. But Roberts and the others had merely been driven here by bad luck, and the want-generator was just a device they found handy to help them get away.
Roberts paused, as his memory played back this last thought, and then his perspective shifted.
The steam engine was once just a device that people found handy to pump water out of mines.
The airplane had been only a device that could hold a man off the ground for fifty-nine seconds, and in the process carry him not quite three hundred yards.
The spaceship was once just a device that could lift an experimental animal into orbit for a few days.
It was merely that kind of device that the three of them had stumbled on.
Why get excited about a thing like that?
Roberts was dizzy with a sudden vision that flashed into his mind, and as suddenly was gone. Morrissey and Hammell were still looking at him questioningly.
Roberts waited a moment, to be sure his voice would be natural.
Then he cleared his throat.
“O.K.,” he said.
THE DUKES OF DESIRE
Vaughan Roberts glanced from the viewscreen to the landing display, and dropped the salvaged Interstellar Patrol ship into the clearing, between a gnarled tree with thorns as big as a man’s forearm, and a battered space yacht whose big hatch was just swinging open.
Roberts pushed forward a toggle-switch on the left side of the control panel, and with a faint whir the stabilizer feet telescoped out, to steady the ship on its smoothly-curved underside. Roberts switched off the gravitors and unbuckled his safety harness, then slipped out of the control seat, ducked under the long shiny cylinder that ran the length of the ship, and went up several steps in the cramped aft section, to release the clamp on the small outer hatch. He spun the lockwheel counterclockwise, pulled the hatch-lever down and slammed it forward, and the hatch swung up and back. A shaft of sunlight shone in, casting shadows of large sharp thorns partly hidden by leaves.
Roberts looked warily all around, loosened his fusion gun in its holster, and pulled himself out the hatch. He sucked in a breath of fresh planetary air, glanced around at the rustling leaves and gently blowing grass, looked up at a white puffy cloud drifting across the clear blue sky, and abruptly snapped his gun out of its holster as brush moved in a rippling motion at the edge of the clearing.
A thing much bigger than a tiger, mottled gray in color, silently blurred out of the brush to bound straight for Roberts, forepaws outstretched.
Roberts fired, fired again, jumped down the hatchway, grabbed the lever and heaved.
Clang! The hatch slammed shut.
WHOOM! There was a noise like an enormous gas burner, gone almost as soon as it began. The ship quivered. Then there was a thud somewhere aft.
Roberts crouched in the cramped space under the hatch, gripping the fusion gun, and listened intently. He heard nothing more. Very cautiously, he opened the hatch.
In the slit of sunlight revealed, he could see, farther aft, the number two reaction-drive nozzle slowly settle back into position. A wisp of smoke was rising from a small gun turret a few feet from the hatch. A long shiny metal stalk, not quite as thick as a man’s wrist, arced out from another turret forward, extruded a set of metal fingers, picked up a riddled and smoldering furry head and dropped it over the side. Roberts looked around, but if the rest of the body was anywhere nearby, he couldn’t see it.