The administrator now projected three-dimensional views of the planet’s location, and its single inhabited continent, showing the rocky, reef-bound coastline, primitive cities, loosely connected by the wandering network of local roads, and fertile river valleys given over to a checkerboard of tiny plots. Then came a view of the people in one of the cities, wrapped in white robes and jostling one another as they streamed across the baked-mud plaza, to hastily jump back as a gilded coach drawn by four weasel-headed animals rushed around the corner. Through the open windows of this coach could be seen an immensely fat individual wrapped in gold and orange cloth. The people, taken by surprise, were a little slow to get out of the way, and a petulant face bellowed orders out the window. The coachman lashed out right and left with a long whip. After the coach passed, the people fell on the ground to kiss the dirt where it had gone by.
The scene vanished, and the administrator said, “We’ve done our best to find some solution, but unfortunately we haven’t succeeded. There seems to be no way to proceed, but the R & R Center is vital. Any assistance you can give us will be deeply appreciated. The remainder of the spool contains a statistical summary of conditions on the planet, for your information.”
The colonel skimmed through the summary, then turned to a dial on the blank wall against which his desk rested. He tapped out a call number, then his own identification code. A moment later, the wall seemed to vanish, and he was looking at the same strongly built, sharp-eyed man who had given him the assignment, and who now smiled at his expression.
“How do you like it?”
“It’s an interesting problem,” said the colonel. “As I understand it, it boils down to the fact that PDA has got to have a rest center on this planet, can’t get it without interfering locally, and yet its own rules forbid it to interfere locally, since there’s a sentient race on the planet.”
“Worse yet, PDA can’t let anyone else go down there and use force, bribery, or any of the obvious ways to get these princes to change their minds. If it weren’t for that, some contractor would have turned the planetary politics inside out, and the R & R Center would be built by now. But the rules are ironclad, even if the result is stupid. And there are watchdog committees to look for any break in observance of the rules. What unavoidably has to be done here is to get results that are just, but possibly—considering only the letter of the law—illegal. PDA isn’t set up for that. That’s in our department.”
“How much help can I count on for this?”
“Anything you want . . . in the line of full departmental aid, equipment, supplies, any free ship you’d like—”
“I was thinking of personnel.”
“Well—You know what that situation’s like.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re recruiting by every means we can think of, and we’re still short-handed. There isn’t much we can do about it. Lowering standards certainly won’t help.” He shook his head. “You can have anyone available. But there are none too many available.”
The colonel thought a moment. “Anyone not already assigned, I can use? Anyone?”
“Right.”
“O.K. I’ll get right at it.”
“Good luck.”
As the scene faded from the wall, the colonel sat back, his eyes narrowed, and then he sat up and his fingers flashed over the dial. The wall remained blank, but a voice said briskly, “Personnel Monitor.”
“The day before yesterday, I administered the oath to a Candidate Dan Bergen, inducting him as a Recruit. I then sent him for routine orientation, and clothing and equipment issue. Where is he now?”
“One moment . . . Recruit Bergen is at this moment arguing with the Quartermaster Assistant regarding the fit of a pair of uniform trousers.”
“Then no one has claimed him for any assignment?”
“No. He is only a recruit.”
“O.K. Thanks.” Rapidly, he punched out a new call. A voice replied, “Project Monitor.”
“Any current project with the designation, ‘Operation New Vote’?”
“Spell this, please.”
The colonel spelled it.
“One moment . . . No. Additionally, we find no past such designation recorded.”
“Thanks. Put me through direct to the project controller.”
The wall lit up to show a tough-looking individual with sandy hair and an alert watchful expression. “Hello, Val. What can I do for you?”
“I want to register the project-designation, ‘Operation New Vote.’ I’ve already checked with monitor.”
“O.K. That part’s easy.”
“For personnel, I’m assigning, first, Recruit Dan Bergen—”
The project controller squinted. “Wait a minute, now. I know what the personnel situation is, of course, but—a recruit?”
“This one we got out of a Space Force guardhouse. The boy is rugged, did splendidly on his physical and attitude tests, is smart and mentally alert—very fine material, and I believe this operation, while not subjecting him to any particular danger, will give him a splendid opportunity to gain an insight into how we operate, and should . . . hm-m-m . . . motivate him excellently for his more formal training when he returns.”
“We just want to be sure he does return. Every qualified man we can lay our hands on is worth a basket of diamonds. What is this excursion you’re taking him on?”
The colonel briefly described the situation on the planet.
“Hm-m-m,” said the project controller. “Why not take a battery of emotional-field generators, and wrench these princes around to the right viewpoint?”
“PDA is duty-bound to watch this planet like a hawk. What happens when all these petty despots suddenly get cooperative? Sure, we’ve solved the problem for PDA; but we’ve also presented them a piece of information that’s none of their business.”
“Yes—They might deduce the existence of the E-G. Hm-m-m . . . and if you provide some logical reason for the princes’ change of heart, that logical reason will doubtless fall under the heading of ‘bribery,’ ‘compulsion,’ or something else PDA can’t allow.”
“Right,” the colonel said bluntly.
“You’re going to have to be kind of subtle on this one.”
“Yes.”
“All right. I’m going to recommend that this recruit be assigned to Operation New Vote. I’ll put him on the personnel list provisionally, until we see whether Personnel melts its coils over this one. Who else do you want?”
“Recruits Roberts, Hammell, and Morrissey.”
The project controller shook his head. “I suppose if this isn’t too dangerous for one recruit, then in theory, it’s not too dangerous for four. But you need some sprinkling of trained men. One recruit is one thing. Four of them is something else again. I’m afraid I’ll have to—”
The colonel spoke quickly. “Well, I agree, if these were ordinary recruits, but these are very exceptional men, who—”
“All our recruits are exceptional men. They’re hard to get. That’s why we can’t have them shot to pieces because they weren’t trained in the first place.”
“I mean, seasoned men. These are all . . . that is, the captain—”
“What captain?”
The colonel realized that he had come close to letting the cat out of the bag. He started over. “I mean, these men have their own J-ship.”
“Ah? You mean, they’re all ship-selected?”
There was the catch. If he admitted to the project controller that two of these men had failed to pass the scrutiny of the J-class ship, and had apparently been admitted only on Roberts’ say-so, the project controller would naturally decline to let them go along. The colonel said, “What I mean to say is that the captain of the J-ship was formerly captain of a fast transport, which involves plenty of responsibility. He’s not likely to be green or rash.”
The project controller looked impressed. “What about the other two?”
“They were his cargo-control officer, and his communications officer, on board the transport. His personal selections, apparently. Too bad we can’t get more recruits to bring in recruits. It might solve our problem, or ease it anyway.”
“Yes—Well, I’m sure Personnel has thought of—”
While the project controller was momentarily distracted with this line of thought, the colonel added, “Anyway, it seems as if they should be reasonably stable men.”
“True enough.” The tough face frowned, as if in partial awareness of something wrong. Then the controller shrugged. “The main point is, we don’t have four unseasoned or suggestible recruits. O.K., who else are you taking?”
“I’ll have to check with Personnel to see who’s available. I wanted to get these men assigned before anyone grabbed them.”
“What about ship and equipment?”
“I’m going to have to study this information to get a preliminary plan. First I wanted to be sure that when I had a plan, I would have somebody to carry it out.”
“O.K. I’m definitely assigning the J-crew as a unit. I’m tentatively assigning Recruit Bergen. How’s that?”
“Fine. That’s a load off my mind.”