Sir Isaac lifted his head and his tendrils played over the keys. “Your pardon, dear boy. I was thinking of something else. Long, long ago when my race was young and when your race had not yet—”
Phipps cut in. “Excuse me, old boy, but I can brief it and you can fill him in on the details later.” He assumed assent and turned to Don. “Harvey, there is an organization—a cabal, a conspiracy, a secret lodge call it what you like—we just call it ‘The Organization’. I’m a member, so is Sir Isaac, so is old Malath—and so are both of your parents. And so was Dr. Jefferson. It’s made up mostly of scientists but it is not limited to them; the one thing we all have in common is a belief in the dignity and natural worth of free intelligence. In many different ways we have fought—and fought unsuccessfully, I should add—against the historical imperative of the last two centuries, the withering away of individual freedom under larger and even more pervasive organizations, both governmental and quasigovernmental.
“On Earth our group derives from dozens of sources, way back in history associations of scientists fighting against secrecy and the straitjacketing of thought, artists fighting against censorship, legal aid societies, many other organizations, most of them unsuccessful, and some downright stupid. About a century ago all such things were pushed underground; the weak sisters dropped out, the talkative got themselves arrested and liquidated—and the remnants consolidated.
“Here on Venus our origins go clear back to the rapprochement between Cyrus Buchanan and the dominant natives. On Mars, in addition to many humans—more about them later—the organization is affiliated with what we call the ‘priest class’—a bad translation, for they aren’t priests; ‘judges’ would be closer.”
Sir Isaac interrupted. ” ‘Elder brothers’.”
“Eh? Well, maybe that is a fair poetical rendering. Never mind. The point is, the whole organization, Martian, Venerian, Terrestrial, has been striving—”
“Just a minute,” put in Don. “If you can answer me one question, it would clear up a whole lot. I’m a soldier of the Venus Republic and we’ve got a war on. Tell me this: is this organization—here on Venus, I mean—helping in our fight to chuck the Greenies out?”
“Well, not precisely. You see—”
Don did not then find out what it was he was supposed to see; another voice cut through Phipps’ words: “Don! Donald!”
He found himself swarmed by a somewhat smaller and female member of his own race. Isobel seemed determined to break his neck. Don was embarrassed and upset and most happy. He gently removed her arms from his neck and tried to pretend that it had not happened—when he caught sight of her father looking at him quite oddly. “Uh, hello, Mr. Costello.”
Costello advanced and shook hands with him. “How do you do, Mr. Harvey? It’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you. I’m mighty glad to see you folks alive and in one piece. I thought you had had it.”
“Not quite. But it was a near thing.”
Isobel said, “Don, you look older—much older. And how thin you are!”
He grinned at her. “You look just the same, Grandma.”
Phipps interrupted, “Much as I dislike breaking up Old Home Week we have no time to waste. Miss Costello, we want the ring.”
“The ring?”
“He means,” explained Don, “the ring I left with you.”
“Ring?” said Mr. Costello. “Mr. Harvey, did you give my daughter a ring?”
“Well, not exactly. You see… ”
Phipps interrupted again. “It’s the ring, Jim—the message ring. Harvey was the other courier—and it seems he made your daughter sort of a deputy courier.”
“Eh? I must say I’m confused.” He looked at his daughter.
“You have it?” Don asked her. “You didn’t lose it?”
“Lose your ring? Of course not, Don. But I had thought—never mind; you want it back now.” She glanced around at the eyes on her—fourteen, counting Sir Isaac’s—then moved away and turned her back. She turned around again almost immediately and held out her hand. “Here it is.”
Phipps reached for it. Isobel drew her hand away and handed it to Don. Phipps opened his mouth, closed it again, then reopened it. “Very well—now let’s have it, Harvey.”