“Huh?”
“You were scheduled to go back in the Glory Road, weren’t you? Well?”
“I don’t track you.”
“Didn’t the news filter aft? The Glory didn’t make it.”
“Huh? Crashed?”
“Hardly! The Federation groundhogs got jumpy and blasted her out of the sky. Couldn’t raise her and figured she was booby-trapped, I guess. Anyhow they blasted her.”
“Oh.”
“Which is why I say you were born lucky, seeing as how you were supposed to go back in her.”
“But I wasn’t. I’m headed for Mars.”
McMasters stared at him, then laughed. “Boy, have you got a one-track mind! You’re as bad as a ‘move-over.’ ”
“Maybe so, but I’m still going to Mars.”
The sergeant put down his cup. “Why don’t you wise up? This war is going to last maybe ten or fifteen years. Chances are there won’t be a scheduled ship to Mars in that whole time.”
“Well… I’ll make it, somehow. But why do you figure it will last so long?”
McMasters stopped to light up. “Studied any history?”
“Some.”
“Remember how the American colonies got loose from England? They piddled along for eight years, fighting just now and then—yet England was so strong that she should have been able to lick the colonies any weekend. Why didn’t she?”
Don did not know. “Well,” McMasters answered, “you may not be a student of history, but Commodore Higgins is. He planned this strike. Ask him about any rebellion that ever happened; he’ll tell you why it succeeded, or why it failed. England didn’t lick the colonies because she was up to her ears in bigger wars elsewhere. The American rebellion was just a ‘police action’—not important. But she couldn’t give proper attention to it; after a while it got to be just too expensive and too much trouble, so England gave up and recognized their independence.”
“You figure this the same way?”
“Yes—because Commodore Higgins gave it a shove in the right direction. Figured on form, the Venus Republic can’t win against the Federation. Mind you, I’m just as patriotic as the next—but I can face facts. Venus hasn’t a fraction of the population of the Federation, nor one per cent of its wealth. Venus can’t win—unless the Federation is too busy to fight. Which it is, or will be soon.”
Don thought about it. “I guess I’m stupid.”
“Didn’t you grasp the significance of blowing up Circum-Terra? In one raid the Commodore had Earth absolutely helpless. He could have bombed any or all of Terra’s cities. But what good would that have done? It would simply have gotten the whole globe sore at us. As it is, we’ve got two-thirds of the peoples of Earth cheering for us. Not only cheering but feeling frisky and ready to rebel themselves, now that Circum-Terra isn’t sitting up there in the sky, ready to launch bombs at the first sign of unrest. It will take the Federation years to pacify the associate nations—if ever. Oh, the Commodore is a sly one!” McMasters glanced up. “‘Tenshun!” he called out and got to his feet.
A lieutenant of the High Guard was in the doorway. He said, “That was a very interesting lecture, professor, but you should save it for the classroom.”
“Not ‘professor,’ Lieutenant,” McMasters said earnestly. ” ‘Sergeant,’ if you please.”
“Very well, Sergeant—but don’t revert to type.” He turned to Don. “Who is this and why is he loafing here?”
“Waiting for you, sir.” McMasters explained the circumstances.
“I see,” answered the duty officer. He said to Don, “Do you waive your right not to testify against yourself?”
Don looked puzzled. “He means,” explained McMasters, “do we try the gimmick on you, or would you rather finish the trip in the brig?”
“The gimmick?”
“Lie detector.”
“Oh. Go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Wish I could say as much. Sit down over here.” McMasters opened a cupboard, fitted electrodes to Don’s head and a bladder gauge to his forearm. “Now,” he said, “tell me the real reason why you were skulking around the bomb room!”
Don stuck to his story. McMasters asked more questions while the lieutenant watched a “wiggle” scope back of Don’s head. Presently he said, “That’s all, Sergeant. Chase him back where he belongs.”