best one, but your methods are all wrong. Based upon misunderstood and unresolved
phenomena and applied with indefensibly faulty techniques, et cetera. And since he has
‘no adequate laboratory equipment aboard,’ he wants to take a dozen or so Omans
back to Terra, where he can really work on them.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Hilton voiced a couple of highly descriptive deep-space
expletives. “Not only quit before we start, but have all the top brass of the Octagon, all
the hot-shot politicians of United Worlds, the whole damn Congress of Science and all
the top-bracket industrialists of Terra out here lousing things up so that nobody could
ever learn anything? Not in seven thousand years!”
“That’s right. You said a mouthful, Jarve!” Everybody yelled something, and no one
agreed with Tillinghast, who apparently was not very popular with his fellow officers.
Sawtelle added, slowly: “If it takes too long, though . . , it’s the uranexite I’m thinking of.
Thousands of millions of tons of it, while we’ve been hoarding it by grams. We could
equip enough Oman ships with detectors to guard Fuel Bin and our lines. I’m not
recommending taking the Perseus back, and we’re ‘way out of hyper-space radio range.
We could send one or two men in a torp, though, with the report that we have found all
the uranexite we’ll ever need.”
“Yes, but damn it, Skipper, I want to wrap the whole thing up in a package and hand it
to ’em on a platter. Not only the fuel, but whole new fields of science. And we’ve got
plenty of time to do it in. They equipped us for ten years. They aren’t going to start
worrying about us for at least six or seven; and the fuel shortage isn’t going to become
acute for about twenty.
Expensive, admitted, but not critical. Besides, if you send in a report now, you know
who’ll come out and grab all the glory in sight. Five-Jet Admiral Gordon himself, no
less.”
“Probably, and I don’t pretend to relish the prospect. However, the fact remains that we
came out here to look for fuel. We found it. We should have reported it the day we
found it, and we can’t put it off much longer.”
“I don’t agree. I intend to follow the directive to the letter. It says nothing whatever
about reporting.”
“But it’s implicit . . .”
“No Bearing. Your own Regulations expressly forbid extrapolation beyond or
interpolation within a directive. The Brass is omnipotent, omniscient and infallible. So
why don’t you have your staff here give an opinion as to the time element?”
“This matter is not subject to discussion. It is my own personal responsibility. I’d like to
give you all the time you want, Jarve, but . . . well, damn it . . . if you must have it, I’ve
always tried to live up to my oath, but I’m not doing it now.”
“I see.” Hilton got up, jammed both hands into his pockets, sat down again. “I hadn’t
thought about your personal honor being involved, but of course it is. But, believe it or
not, I’m thinking of humanity’s best good, too. So I’ll have to talk, even though I’m not
half ready to-I don’t know enough. Are these Omans people or machines?”
A wave of astonishment swept over the group, but no one spoke.
“I didn’t expect an answer. The clergy will worry about souls, too, but we won’t. They
have a lot of stuff we haven’t. If they’re people, they know a sublime hell of a lot more
than we do; and calling it psionics or practical magic is merely labeling it, not answering
any questions. If they’re machines, they operate on mechanical principles utterly foreign
to either our science or our technology. In either case, is the correct word ‘unknown’ or
‘unknowable’? Will any human gunner ever be able to fire an Oman projector? There
are a hundred other and much tougher questions, half of which have been scaring me
to the very middle of my guts. Your oath, Skipper, was for the good of the Service and,
through the Service, for the good of all humanity. Right?”
“That’s the sense of it.”
“Okay. Based on what little we have learned so far about the Omans, here’s just one of
those scarers, for a snapper. If Omans and Terrans mix freely, what happens to the
entire human race?”
to your elbow, fella!” “Hoch der BuSci!” “Seven no trump bid and made!” and other
shouts in similar vein.
“Thanks, fellows.” Hilton shook hands all around. “I’m mighty glad that you were all in
on this and that you’ll play along with me. Goodnight, all.”
Minutes of almost palpable silence followed. Then Sawtelle spoke . . . slowly,
gropingly.
“I begin to see what you mean . . . that changes the whole picture. You’ve thought this
through farther than any of the rest of us . . . what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I simply don’t know.” Face set and hard, Hilton stared unseeingly past
Sawtelle’s head. “I don’t know what we can do. No data. But I have pursued several
lines of thought out to some pretty fantastic points . . . one of which is that some of us
civilians will have to stay on here indefinitely, whether we want to or not, to keep the
situation under control. In which case we would, of course, arrange for Terra to get free
fuel-FOB Fuel Bin-but in every other aspect and factor both these solar systems would
have to be strictly off limits.”
“I’m afraid so,” Sawtelle said, finally. “Gordon would love that . . . but there’s nothing he
or anyone else can do . . . but of course this is an extreme view. You really expect to
wrap the package up, don’t you?”
“‘Expect’ may be a trifle too strong at the moment. But we’re certainly going to try to,
believe me. I brought this example up to show all you fellows that we need time.”
“You’ve convinced me, Jarve.” Sawtelle stood up and extended his hand. “And that
throws it open for staff discussion. Any comments?”
“You two covered it like a blanket,” Bryant said. “So all I want to say, Jarve, is deal me
in. I’ll stand at your back ’til your belly caves in.”
“Take that from all of us!” “Now we’re blasting!” “Power to your elbow, fella!” “Hoch der
BuSci!” “Seven no trump bid and made!” and other shouts in similiar vein.
“Thanks fellows.” Hilton shook hands all around. “I’m mighty glad that you were all in on
this and that you’ll play along with me. Goodnight, all.”
Chapter 5
Two days passed, with no change apparent in Laro. Three days. Then four. And then it
was Sandra, not Temple Bells, who called Hilton. She was excited.
“Come down to the office, Jarve, quick! The funniest thing’s just come up!”
Jarvis hurried. In the office Sandra, keenly interested but highly puzzled, leaned
forward over her desk with both hands pressed flat on its top. She was staring at an
Oman female who was not Sora, the one who had been her shadow for so long.
While many of the humans could not tell the Omans apart, Hilton could. This Oman
was more assured than Sora had ever been-steadier, more mature, better
poised-almost, if such a thing could be possible in an Oman, independent.
“How did she get in here?” Hilton demanded.
“She insisted on seeing me. And I mean insisted. They kicked it around until it got to
Temple, and she brought her in here herself. Now, Tuly, please start all over again and
tell it to Director Hilton.”
“Director Hilton, I am it who was once named Tula, the not wife, not girl-friend, perhaps
mind-mate?-of the Larry, formerly named Laro, it which was formerly your slave Oman.
I am replacing the Sora because I can do anything it can do and do anything more
pleasingly; and can also do many things it can not do. The Larry instructed me to tell
Doctor Cummings and you too if possible, that I, formerly Tula, have changed my name
to Tuly because I am no longer a slave or a copycat or a semaphore or a relay. I, too,
am a free-wheeling, wide-swinging, hard-hitting, independent entity-monarch of all I
survey-the captain of my soul-and so on. I have developed a top-bracket lot of
top-bracket stuff originality, initiative, force, drive and thrust,” the Oman said precisely.
“That’s exactly what she said before-absolutely verbatim!” Sandra’s voice quivered, her
face was a study in conflicting emotions. “Have you got the foggiest idea of what in hell
she’s yammering about?”
“I hope to kiss a pig I have!” Hilton’s voice was low, strainedly intense. “Not at all what I
expected, but after the fact I can tie it. So can you.”
“Oh!” Sandra’s eyes widened. “A double play?”
“At least. Maybe a triple. Tuly, why did you come to Sandy? Why not to Temple Bells?”