Quarantine the complete.., p.33
Quarantine: The Complete Stories, page 33
“I rule that no contact exists—”
Coral gasped indignantly. Old Whitherly swayed and fell. The banker bellowed. Newbolt and the signal officer shouted their startled approval. The uproar drowned his voice.
In the breathless hush that followed that surprised outburst, he let them wait again. He picked his pointed nose, deliberately savoring their pain.
“The evidence convinces me that this native culture could not survive an uncontrolled contact.” Ignoring the baleful rage of the banker, he studied the smug elation of Newbolt and Penwright, and paused again to relish what he meant to do to them. “However, I am equally convinced that they are human beings.”
He let his voice drag and grate.
“Aware of my sworn duty under the Covenants, I therefore disapprove the signal project. I order Commander Newbolt and his successors to continue the quarantine of Earth until such time as its native culture may be declared ready for contact.”
He stopped again to enjoy the incredulous deflation of the signal officer.
“Pursuant to that directive, I order Newbolt to intercept the savage Tom Scoggins without needless injury to him or to his crew. I suggest that they be enlisted in the quarantine service, as undercover agents acting to prevent any future expeditions from Earth into space.”
“Why, Wain? Why?” Coral stared up at him, the blue flame pale and cold and flickering angrily around her. “Why have you done this?”
He merely smiled at her with his offensive teeth, until she hissed and ran from the dome. Newbolt and the banker stalked after her. The signal officer turned to follow, but swung abruptly back.
“Your Equity?” His cold voice was ominous and slow. “May I ask why?”
“You have no right to ask.” Scarlet paused to survey the signs of strain that marred his hard mask of calm perfection. “I don’t mind telling you, however, that I came here prepared to make a different decision. You yourself helped to change my first intention, with the evidence you offered about the people of Earth. Even the stories of their imperfections helped to persuade me that they are as human as I am. You seem surprised by my ruling. Perhaps I am, too. Surprised—but pleased!”
Penwright was no longer listening. His wrist screen had flashed. He scanned it, whispering. When at last he looked up again at Scarlet, his cool mask was beautiful again.
“Your Equity,” he murmured gently, “I have another surprise for you. I believe it means that your astonishing verdict will soon be reversed by a higher authority, in favor of our signal project.”
“Careful!” Scarlet rapped. “You’ll find yourself in contempt.”
“I am in contempt.” Penwright nodded serenely. “I can be candid about that, because we have just received a message from a passenger on another incoming service flyer. He’s an old associate of yours, from the quarantine office on Denebola IV. Remember Warden Thornwall?”
“Why is he here?”
“There’s something in your past.” Penwright chuckled discreetly. “Some tampering with official records. Somebody discovered that you were inadequately conditioned for your mission here. The regional director sent Thornwall out to replace you.”
Scarlet stood staring blankly, speechless, with all his new resolutions shattering into panic. Following too close to the limiting velocity of light, his past had overtaken him. His impulsive gesture to help toward the people of Earth had cost him everything.
“Thornwall is an old school friend of mine.” Penwright glowed with reminiscent pleasure. “Once I saved his life, when we were sun-diving after the flying lights and he had got himself trapped in one of their magnetic nests. I think I can trust him to approve the blinker project.”
“Perhaps he will,” Scarlet rasped. “But not till he arrives!”
Still robed defiantly in his judicial light, he abandoned the bench and darted down to Mark Whitherly, who sat like a white and silent mummy wrapped in chill gray dust, alive only in his bright and bitter eyes.
“Where is Coral?” Scarlet shouted. “Where did she go?”
“Do you know what you have done?” The fading wisp of Whitherly ignored his own hoarse demand. “With your unconditioned blindness, you have killed my great chance to observe a contact crisis. You have killed me. I am asking for euthanasia.”
“I’ll approve it gladly!” Scarlet snarled. “But what became of Coral Fell?”
“You will find her with Flintledge,” Whitherly whispered faintly through the frosty dust. “If you find her at all!”
Feeling as cold and futile as the dying scientist, he rushed from the dome to the lock tower. At the surface level, he met a flickering red prohibition zone which barred his way. Beyond it, in the operations room, two or three frantic port officials sat battered with emergency signal lights and warning gongs.
“What’s all this?” he shouted through the barrier. “I demand access to my flier.”
Wheeling desperately from screen to gong to button, the dispatchers seemed not to hear. He raised his voice and waved the documents which established his legal title to the trading flier, but they still ignored him. Furiously, he plunged into the barrier. It seized his own reflexes to propel him backward, so vigorously that he stumbled.
“Careful, your Equity!”
That sardonic bit of advice drew his eyes to the Vegan banker, seated in the dingy little waiting room behind him.
“You might as well relax.” The sleek little Vegan chuckled unsympathetically. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“The port is closed.”
“I won’t put up with any trickery!” Scarlet snapped. “I am still officially robed, and I have a clear legal title to that flier.”
“Waste tape!” The banker sneered at the psionic documents in his quivering fingers. “I’m afraid Flintledge was too smart for both of us. We both have our legal claims, but he has the flier. I’m afraid the law will never overtake him now.”
“Where has he gone?”
“Anywhere.” The banker shrugged. “He can pick his own direction to the frontier stars. He can take his choice of a billion new planets to loot.”
“I see.” Scarlet nodded bitterly. “That was what I once hoped to do.” He drew a long uneven breath. “Coral—” He hesitated unhappily. “Do you know where she is?”
“Gone with Flintledge, naturally.”
“Uh—I can’t understand it.” Scarlet peered into the closed operations room, and turned back to the banker with a scowl of puzzled indignation. “What had she in common with that unconditioned monster?”
“Enough.” The banker grinned. “They were both searching for more primitive creatures to exploit, each in his own way. Naturally they found each other. Now they can choose their own new worlds to civilize, in whatever sense they please.”
“How did he manage it?” Scarlet nodded at the barrier behind him. “How did he close the port?”
“He didn’t,” the banker said. “But we must give him credit for a nice sense of timing. Riding the new nova, with all this confusion behind him, there’s not an atom of a chance that he will be overtaken.”
“New nova?” The word hushed Scarlet’s voice. “What nova?”
“Somewhere in the Lion.” The banker nodded vaguely at the ceiling. “The signal service had failed to forecast it— that’s why the operations boys are pulling out their hair.” He grinned at the barrier. “Flintledge must have picked up the warning emanations in time to plan his flight before they closed the port.”
“That’s odd.” Scarlet turned to stare at the flickering signals beyond the barrier. “Odd that there wasn’t any warning. Working on the blinker project, Penwright’s men should have spotted every unstable star in this sector.”
“It’s odd, all right.” The banker’s chuckle had a hollow ring. “I infer, from all I overheard through the barrier, that it’s somewhat odder than you might suspect. You see, there was no unstable star.”
“Uh—” Scarlet blinked. “Do you mean that it’s an artificial nova?”
“They aren’t certain yet. The actual explosion is not yet visible. What they are picking up is the preliminary bursts of neutrinos and gamma radiation. Those spaced bursts indicate the same sequence of steps that Penwright had planned to use to make a stable star unstable.”
“But it couldn’t be the intergalactic beacon!” Afraid to think of what this meant, Scarlet shivered and felt an atavistic prickling at the back of his neck. “The signal service had computed the sequence of stars for the blinker. They had to begin with Sol.”
“I gather that somebody else has made a different computation.” The banker squinted through the barrier, knowingly. “Apparently that other expert came out with a different sequence of stars to burn.”
“What expert—?” Scarlet gasped blankly. “Who?”
“I’m not sure.” The banker shrugged. “In any case, I’m afraid your Equity has more immediate problems now.” A raw edge of malice cut through his well-conditioned courtesy. “Although I am unfortunately in no position to press charges, I was pleased to learn that Commander Newbolt has ordered your detention.”
“I’m immune from his power,” Scarlet muttered desperately. “So long as I am robed—”
“But your robe will soon be extinguished,” the banker promised unpleasantly. “The arriving flier has made a safe landing, I believe, in spite of the neutrionic disturbances. I understand that Warden Thornwall has uncovered some embarrassing facts that you thought you had buried on Denebola IV.”
Speechless with his helpless fury, Scarlet turned to leave the waiting room. He almost collided with Newbolt and Penwright, at the elevator door. The signal officer grinned maliciously, but Newbolt spoke with a rigid correctness.
“Your Equity will please wait here for Warden Thornwall.”
The banker followed them across the bare little waiting room. The three sat whispering, peering at him with a cold derision. He slumped down silently, and spun a sound screen to shut out their mockery. Waiting miserably in his insecure little cell of silence, he wondered blankly who else could be exploding suns to make another intergalactic signal.
Seeing no answer, he found himself thinking of the savage boy who had invented civilization—or had the dying explorer misunderstood his artifacts? If that wolf had caught the naked boy before he found the copper nugget, would galactic history have been different? Would he himself have ever lived to alter those records on Denebola IV? Would he have approved Penwright’s blinker? Would he be waiting here? Would anything—
The barrier flickered and vanished. Newbolt rose importantly and marched into the operations room. Shrugging off his troubled recollections, Scarlet got slowly to his feet. He turned out his sound screen, and stood waiting numbly for Thornwall to remove his glowing robe.
The warden strode into the operations room.
“Here’s your man, sir.” Newbolt hailed him, with a contemptuous nod toward Scarlet. “I am detaining him, but he has the face to claim judicial immunity—”
“Hello, Wain!” Thornwall looked older, his dark beauty oddly dulled, as if all the long light-years he had voyaged across had somehow overtaken him. Yet his worn smile seemed strangely benign. He walked briskly past Newbolt into the little waiting room, to grasp Scarlet’s hand.
“Forgive my bringing up your past sins.” Only, Thornwall was grinning. “When I sent that message about your records, I understood from Newbolt that you were about to make a more serious sort of blunder. Fortunately, your ruling on the crisis here was a magnificent vindication.”
“What’s all this?” Newbolt had turned to follow him, glaring furiously. “Warden Thornwall, am I to understand that you are approving the incredible decisions of this unconditioned criminal?”
“The phrases are your own.” A stern smile flashed through the shadow on Thornwall’s face. “However, I heartily approve Scarlet’s judicial action in this crisis.”
“You what—?” Newbolt gasped.
“Commander, I am afraid that you have let yourself forget one of our finest traditions in the quarantine service. We allow our people to learn from their mistakes. Although Scarlet was not aware of it, his unconditioned behavior back at headquarters was observed and reported at the time. We debated his case. Some of us had our doubts about him. But the regional director himself offered me a bet that he would prove himself, given this chance.”
Scarlet blinked his yellow eyes.
“But—But if—” He had to gulp. “Don’t you intend to punish me?”
“Don’t be an utterly unconditioned fool!” Thornwall clapped him warmly on the back. “I didn’t take that bet. We’re few of us perfect—and the perfect few are seldom successful in the service, because they share too little with the people we guard. Now that you have proved yourself, I am glad to recommend you for an early promotion.”
“Uh—” His dry throat stuck. “Uh—”
“Warden, I intend to see this creature broken!” Newbolt stormed. “I can prove that he accepted a bribe before he ruled on this crisis. I can prove that he ignored competent evidence. I can prove that the blinker project should have been approved. I intend to advise the signal service to appeal—”
“I’m afraid your advice will be disregarded,” Thornwall softly interrupted him. “Because you are relieved of your duties here. Your new orders are effective now. You are reassigned to the signal service which is facing an extraordinary emergency which will require considerable additional personnel.”
Ignoring Newbolt’s indignant roar, Thornwall turned briskly back to Scarlet.
“Wain, you are replacing Newbolt as commander of the station here. Your decision shows that you know the long and lonely task you face, watching over these people while they lift themselves to truly human status.” He smiled sternly. “Perhaps I should remind you that you can hope to succeed only by making the best use of subordinates who are no better conditioned than you are.”
Newbolt had moved apart to mutter angrily with Penwright.
“We won’t take this!” he shouted suddenly. “Even you must see that the blinker project will have to be revised and accelerated now, to fit this unexpected nova into our signal. I must remind you that the condemnation of Sol was supported by competent evidence—which Scarlet chose to ignore. Penwright has agreed to appeal this irresponsible decision to your regional headquarters on Denebola IV—”
Thornwall’s odd smile stopped him.
“You and Penwright have bigger problems than Scarlet has given you,” Thornwall said. “But I’m afraid you won’t get much help from our headquarters on Denebola IV—because that nova is Denebola!”
“Denebola?” Newbolt turned to peer at the signal officer, all his manly glow fading into ashen consternation. “Didn’t—? Wasn’t it surveyed?”
“Denebola is—or was—a stable star!” Penwright’s hard confidence was shattered. “I surveyed it myself. It can’t have exploded naturally. But it was no part of our signal project.”
“Not of yours.” Thornwall grinned bleakly. “But I’m afraid there is another.”
Penwright sagged weakly to a worn bench. He sat huddled there, like something trapped and desperate. Dulled, haunted, his eyes roved the ancient waiting room, finding no escape. At last he looked blankly back at Thornwall.
“Who—?” He wet his quivering white lip. “Whose?”
“That is your problem now,” Thornwall said. “The full interpretation of this unexpected signal seems likely to occupy the enlarged signal service for several thousand years. But at least we have preliminary indications of the probable answer.”
“Who else—?” Penwright gulped and gasped and gulped again. “Who else can detonate stars?”
“I had my first hint of the answer years ago.” Thornwall’s strained face had turned queerly calm. “I was sun-diving in Denebola, investigating the radiations of those energy complexes that we used to call the flying lights.”
“Those fire-balls?”
“I detected neutrionic components in their emissions.” Thornwall nodded quietly. “Since, I have been collecting reports from other expeditions into other stars. Several divers have reported observing neutrionic phenomena not different from those associated with your own experiments at igniting super-novas. In fact, I suspect that these other experimenters have learned a good deal from you.”
Thornwall chuckled at Penwright’s pale amazement.
“About the time that Scarlet left Denebola to supervise the contact crisis here, I witnessed a mass flight of the lights from the surface of that star. I have received other such reports from other suns—though not from Sol. Organizing all the data, I have begun to suspect that our galactic civilization is just reaching contact with another culture more highly advanced than we can easily imagine.”
The glint of amusement faded from his voice.
“I imagine that your own signal project will have to be abandoned now,” he told Penwright. “Because these electronic beings have apparently selected the suns for their signal project with no more regard for our culture than you had for the native anthropoids of Earth. But perhaps you can persuade them to grant us status in their civilization.”
“How—?” Penwright blinked apprehensively. “How can we hope to do that?”
“You are our specialist in interstellar contact.”
Still clad in his blue official light, Wain Scarlet turned slowly from Penwright’s quivering consternation: When he glanced into the open operations room, the chief dispatcher rose instantly to serve him.
“Dirk Flintledge?” He had to wet his lips. “Flintledge— has he already gone?”
“With one passenger, your Equity,” the dispatcher answered. “Coral Fell.”
“What is their destination?”
“Their departure was irregular.” The dispatcher looked unhappy. “Their flight plan was never officially approved. It gives no specific destination. If your Equity wishes to have them halted, we should lose no time—”
“Never mind,” Scarlet said. “Let them go.”
“As you say, sir.” The dispatcher seemed relieved. “In any case, I doubt that we could overtake them now.” He hesitated, watching Scarlet anxiously. “Your Equity, I couldn’t help overhearing what Warden Thornwall said. About the nova and the flying lights. Will that—will that affect our mission here?”
