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Masters of Space by E.E Doc Smith

The group gasped as one, but Saunders went on: “They can eat and drink and breathe

and so on, but only because the original Masters wanted them to. Non-functional. Skins

and subcutaneous layers are soft, for the same reason. That’s about it, up to now.”

“Thanks, Lane. Hark, is it reasonable to believe that any culture whatever could run for

a quarter of a million years without changing one word of its language or one iota of its

behavior?”

“Reasonable or not, it seems to have happened.” “Now for Psychology. Alex?”

“It seems starkly incredible, but it seems to be true. If it is, their minds were subjected

to a conditioning no Terran has ever imagined-an unyielding fixation.”

“They can’t be swayed then, by reason or logic?” Hilton paused invitingly.

“Or anything else,” Kincaid said, flatly. “If we’re right they can’t be swayed, period.”

“I was afraid of that. Well, that’s all the questions I know how to ask. Any contributions

to this symposium?”

After a short silence de Vaux said, “I suppose you realize that the first half of the

problem you posed us has now solved itself?”

“Why, no. No, you’re ‘way ahead of me.”

“There is a basic problem and it can now be clearly stated,” Rebecca said. “Problem:

To determine a method of securing full cooperation from the Omans. The first step in

the solution of this problem is to find the most appropriate operator. Teddy?”

“I have an operator-of sorts,” Theodora said. “I’ve been hoping one of us could find a

better.”

“What is it?” Hilton demanded. “The word `until’.”

“Teddy, you’re a sweetheart!” Hilton exclaimed.

“How can ‘until’ be a mathematical operator?” Sandra asked.

“Easily,” Hilton was already deep in thought. “This hard conditioning was to last only

until the Masters returned. Then they’d break it. So all we have to do is figure out how a

Master would do it.”

“That’s all,” Kincaid said, meaningly.

Hilton pondered. Then, “Listen, all of you. I may have to try a colossal job of bluffing . .

. ”

“Just what would you call ‘colossal’ after what you did to the Navy?” Karns asked.

“Mat was a sure thing. This isn’t. You see, to find out whether Laro is really an

immovable object, I’ve got to make like an irresistible force, which I ain’t. I don’t know

what I’m going to do; I’ll have to roll it as I go along. So all of you keep on your toes and

back any play I make. Here they come.”

The Omans came in and Hilton faced Laro, eyes to eyes. “Laro,” he said, “you refused

to obey my direct order. Your reasoning seems to be that, whether the Masters wish it

or not, you Omans will block any changes whatever in the status quo throughout all

time to come. In other words, you deny the fact that Masters are in fact your Masters.”

“But that is not exactly it, Master. The Masters . . .”

“That is it. Exactly it. Either you are the Master here or you are not. That is a point to

which your two-value logic can be strictly applied. You are wilfully neglecting the word

‘until’. This stasis was to exist only until the Masters returned. Are we Masters? Have

we returned? Note well: Upon that one word ‘until’ may depend the length of time your

Oman race will continue to exist.”

The Omans flinched; the humans gasped.

“But more of that later,” Hilton went on, unmoved. “Your ancient Masters, being

short-lived like us, changed materially with time, did they not? And you changed with

them?”

“But we did not change ourselves, Master. The Masters . . .” “You did change

yourselves. The Masters changed only the prototype brain. They ordered you to change

yourselves and you obeyed their orders. We order you to change and you refuse to

obey our orders. We have changed greatly from our ancestors. Right?”

“That is right, Master.”

“We are stronger physically, more alert and more vigorous mentally, with a keener,

sharper outlook on life?”

“You are, Master.”

“That is because our ancestors decided to do without Omans. We do our own work

and enjoy it. Your Masters died of futility and boredom. What I would like to do, Laro, is

take you to the creche and put your disobedient brain back into the matrix. However,

the decision is not mine alone to make. How about it, fellows and girls? Would you

rather have alleged servants who won’t do anything you tell them to do or no servants

at all?”

“As semantician, I protest!” Sandra backed his play. “That is the most viciously loaded

question I ever heard-it can’t he answered except in the wrong way!”

“Okay, I’ll make it semantically sound. I think we’d better scrap this whole Oman race

and start over and I want a vote that way!”

“You won’t get it!” and everybody began to yell.

Hilton restored order and swung on Laro, his attitude stiff, hostile and reserved. “Since

it is clear that no unanimous decision is to be expected at this time I will take no action

at this time. Think over, very carefully, what I have said, for as far as I am concerned,

this world has no place for Omans who will not obey orders. As soon as I convince my

staff of the fact, I shall act as follows. I shall give you an order and if you do not obey it

blast your head to a cinder. I shall then give the same order to another Oman and blast

him. This process will continue until: First, I find an obedient Oman. Second, I run out of

blasters. Third, the planet runs out of Omans. Now take these lights into the first room

of records-that one over there.” He pointed, and no Oman, and only four humans, re-

alized that he had made the Omans telegraph their destination so that he could point it

out to them!

Inside the room Hilton asked caustically of Laro: “The Masters didn’t lift those heavy

chests down themselves, did they?”

“Oh, no, Master, we did that.”

“Do it, then. Number One first . . . yes, that one . . . open it and start playing the

records in order.”

The records were not tapes or flats or reels, but were spools of intricately braided wire.

The players were projectors of fullcolor, hi-fi sounds, tri-di pictures.

Hilton canceled all moves aground and issued orders that no Oman was to be allowed

aboard ship, then looked and listened with his staff.

The first chest contained only introductory and elementary stuff; but it was so

interesting that the humans stayed overtime to finish it. Then they went back to the

ship; and in the main lounge Hilton practically collapsed onto a davenport. He took out

a cigarette and stared in surprise at his hand, which was shaking.

“I think I could use a drink,” he remarked.

“What, before supper?” Karns marveled. Then, “Hey, Wally! Rush a flagon of

avignognac-Arnaud Freres-for the boss and everything else for the rest of us.

Chop-chop but quick!”

A hectic half-hour followed. Then. “Okay, boys and girls, I love you, too, but let’s cut out

the slurp and sloosh, get some supper and log us some sack time. I’m just about

pooped. Sorry I had to queer the private-residence deal, Sandy, you poor little sardine.

But you know how it is.”

Sandra grimaced. “Uh-huh. I can take it a while longer if you can.”

After breakfast next morning, the staff met in the lounge. As usual, Hilton and Sandra

were the first to arrive.

“Hi, boss,” she greeted him. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. I could whip a wildcat and give her the first two scratches. I was a bit beat up last

night, though.”

“I’ll say . . . but what I simply can’t get over is the way you underplayed the climax.

‘Third, the planet runs out of Omans.’ Just like that-no emphasis at all. Wow! It had the

impact of a delayed-action atomic bomb. It put goose-bumps all over me. But just

s’pose they’d missed it?”

“No fear. They’re smart. I had to play it as though the whole Oman race is no more

important than a cigarette butt. The great big question, though, is whether I put it across

or not.”

At that point a dozen people came in, all talking about the same subject.

“Hi, Jarve,” Karns said. “I still say you ought to take up poker as a life work. Tiny, let’s

you and him sit down now and play a few hands.”

“Mais non!” de Vaux shook his head violently, shrugged his shoulders and threw both

arms wide. “By the sacred name of a small blue cabbage, not met.”

Karns laughed. “How did you have the guts to state so many things as facts? If you’d

guessed wrong just once-”

“I didn’t.” Hilton grinned. “Think back, Bill. The only thing I said as a fact was that we as

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