[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction June 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Getting there may be half the fun ... but it
is also all of a society's chance of survival!
"As one god to another--let's go home," Jack Bates said.
Bill Farnum raised a space-gloved hand in negligent acknowledgment to
a hastily kneeling native, and shook his head at Bates. "Let's try
Deneb--it's almost in line on the way back--and then we can call it
quits."
"But I want to get back and start making some profit out of this. The
Galaxy is full of _Homo sapiens_. We've hit the jackpot first trip out.
Let's hurry on home and cash in."
"We need more information. This is too much of a good thing--it doesn't
make sense. I know there isn't much chance of finding anything out by
stopping at one more solar system. But it won't delay us more than a
few weeks, and it won't hurt to try."
"Yeah," said Bates. "But what's in it for us? And what if we find an
inhabited planet? You know the chances are about two to one that we
will. That'll make thirteen we've found on this trip. Why risk bad
luck?"
"You're no more superstitious than I am," said Farnum. "You just want
to get back Earthside. I'll tell you what. We'll toss a coin for it."
Bates gestured futilely toward his coverall pocket, and then
remembered he was wearing a spacesuit as a precaution against possible
contamination from the natives.
"And we'll use one of _my_ coins this time," said Farnum, noticing the
automatic motion. "I want to have a chance."
The coin dropped in Farnum's favor, and their two-man scout ship hurled
itself into space.
* * * * *
Farnum operated the compact computer, aligning the ship's velocity
vector precisely while the stars could still be seen. Bates controlled
the engines, metering their ravenous demand for power just this side of
destructive detonation, while the ship sucked energy from space--from
the adjacent universe on the other side of Limbo. Finally the computer
chimed, relays snicked, and the ship slid into the emptiness of Limbo
as the stars winked out.
With two trained men working as a team with the computer and the
elaborate engine room controls, and with a certain amount of luck, the
ship would drop back into normal space a couple of weeks later, close
beside their target.
"Well, that's that," said Farnum, relaxing and wiping the perspiration
off his forehead. "We're back once again in the nothingness of nowhere.
As I recall, it's your week for K.P. Where's the coffee?"
"Coming right up," said Bates. "But you won't like it. It's the last of
the 'God-food' the Korite priests made for us."
Farnum shuddered. "Pour it out and make some fresh. With a skillet, you
stink, but you're a thousand times better than Korites."
"Thanks," Bates said, getting busy. "It was the third place we stopped
that they were such good cooks, wasn't it?"
"Nope. Our third stop was the Porandians. They tried to kill us--called
us 'Devil spawn from the stars.' You're thinking of the fourth stop;
the Balanites."
Bates shrugged. "It's kind of hard to keep them all straight. Either
they fall on their knees and worship us, or they try to kill us without
even asking questions. Maybe it's lucky they're all so primitive."
"It may be lucky, but it doesn't add up. More than half the stars we
visit have planets that can support human life. And every one that can
does. Once there must have been an interstellar empire. So why are
all their civilizations so backward? They aren't primitive--they're
decadent. And why do they all have such strong feelings--one way or the
exact opposite--about people from the stars?"
"Isn't that why you want to try one more system?" asked Bates. "To give
us another chance to get some answers? Here's your coffee. Try to drink
it quietly. I'm going to get some shuteye."
* * * * *
The trip through the Limbo between adjacent universes passed
uneventfully, as always. The computer chimed again on schedule, and a
quick check by Farnum showed the blazing sun that suddenly appeared was
Deneb, as advertised. Seventeen planets could be counted, and the fifth
seemed to be Earth type. They approached it with the easy skill of long
practice and swung into orbit about it.
"This is what we've been looking for!" exclaimed Farnum, examining
the planet through a telescope. "They've got big cities and dams and
bridges--they're civilized. Let's put the ship down."
"Wait up," said Bates. "What if they've got starman-phobia? Remember,
they're people, just like us; and with people, civilization and
weapons go together."
"I think you've got it backwards. If they hate us, we can probably get
away before they bring up their big artillery. But what if they love
us? They might want to keep us beside them forever."
Bates nodded. "I'm glad you agree with me. Let's get out of here.
Nobody but us knows of the beautiful, profitable planets we've found,
all ready to become part of a Terran Empire. And if we don't get back
safe and sound, nobody _will_ know. The information we've got is worth
a fortune to us, and I want to be alive to collect it."
"Sure. But we've got the job of trying to find out why all those
planets reverted to barbarism. This one hasn't; maybe the answer's
here. There's no use setting up an empire if it won't last."
"It'll last long enough to keep you and me on top of the heap."
"That's not good enough. I want my kids--when I have them--to have
their chances at the top of the heap too."
"Oh, all right. We'll flip a coin, then."
"We already did. You may be a sharp dealer, but you'd never welch on a
bet. We're going down."
Bates shrugged. "You win. Let's put her down beside that big city over
there--the biggest one, by the seashore."
As they approached the city, they noticed at its outskirts a large
flat plain, dotted with gantries. "Like a spaceport," suggested Bill.
"That's our target."
They landed neatly on the tarmac and then sat there quietly, waiting to
see what would happen.
* * * * *
A crowd began to form. The two men sat tensely at their controls, but
the throng clustering about the base of the ship showed no hostility.
They also showed no reverence but, rather, a carefree interest and
joyful welcome.
"Well," said Farnum at last, "looks like we might as well go outside
and ask them to take us to their leader."
"I'm with you as usual," said Bates, starting to climb into his
spacesuit. "Weapons?"
"I don't think so. We can't stop them if they get mad at us, and they
look friendly enough. We'll start off with the 'let's be pals' routine."
Bates nodded. "After we learn the language. I always hate this part--it
moves so slowly. You'd think there'd be some similarity among the
tongues on different planets, wouldn't you? But each one's entirely
different. I guess they've all been isolated too long."
The two men stepped out on the smooth plain, to be instantly surrounded
by a laughing, chattering crowd. Farnum stared around in bewilderment
at the variety of dress the crowd displayed. There were men and women
in togas, in tunics, in draped dresses and kilts, in trousers and
coats. Others considered a light cloak thrown over the shoulders to be
adequate. There was no uniformity of style or custom.
"You pick me a boss-man out of this bunch," he muttered to Bates.
Finally a couple of young men, glowing with health and energy, came
bustling through the crowd with an oblong box which they set down in
front of the Earthmen. They pointed to the box and then back at Farnum
and Bates, laughing and talking as they did so.
"What do you suppose they want us to do?" Farnum asked.
One of the young men clapped his hands happily and reached down to
touch the box. "What do you suppose they want us to do?" asked the box
distinctly.
"Oh. A recording machine. Probably to help with language lessons. Might
as well help them out."
* * * * *
Farnum and Bates took turns talking at the box for half an hour. Then
the young man nodded, laughed, clapped his hands again, and the two
men carried it away. The crowd went with them, waving merrily as they
departed.
Bates shrugged his shoulders and went back into the ship, with Farnum
close behind.
A few hours after sunrise the following morning, the crowd returned,
as gay and carefree as before, led by the two young men who had carried
the box. Each of these two now had a small case, about the size of a
camera, slung by a strap across one brawny shoulder.
As the terrestrials climbed out to meet them, the two men raised their
hands and the crowd discontinued its chatter, falling silent except for
an occasional tinkle of surprised laughter.
"Welcome," said the first young man clearly. "It is a great pleasure
for us to have our spaceport in use again. It has been many generations
since any ships have landed on it."
Farnum noticed that the voice came from the box. "Thank you for your
very kind welcome," he said. "I hope that your traffic will soon
increase. May we congratulate you, by the way, on the efficiency of
your translators?"
"Thanks," laughed the young man. "But there was nothing to it. We just
asked the Oracle and he told us what we had to do to make them."
"May we meet your--Oracle?"
"Oh, sure, if you want to. But later on. Now it's time for a party. Why
don't you take off those clumsy suits and come along?"
"We don't dare remove our spacesuits. They protect us from any disease
germs you may have, and you from any we may have. We probably have no
resistance to each others' ailments."
"The Oracle says we have nothing that will hurt you. And we're going
to spray you with this as soon as you get out of your suits. Then you
won't hurt any of us." He held up a small atomizer.
Farnum glanced at Bates, who shrugged and nodded. They uneasily
unfastened their spacesuits and stepped out of them, wearing only their
light one-piece coveralls, and got sprayed with a pleasant-smelling
mist.
The party was a great success. The food was varied and delicious.
The liquors were sparkling and stimulating, without unpleasant
after-effects. The women were uninhibited.
When a native got tired, he just dropped down onto the soft grass, or
onto an even softer couch, and went to sleep. The Earthmen finally did
the same.
* * * * *
They awoke the following morning within minutes of each other, feeling
comfortable and relaxed. Bates shook his head experimentally. "No
hangover," he muttered in surprise.
"No one ever feels bad after a party," said one of their guides, who
had slept nearby. "The Oracle told us what to do, when we asked him."
"Quite a fellow, your Oracle," commented Bates. "Does he answer you in
riddles, like most Oracles?"
The guide was shocked. "The Oracle answers any questions promptly and
completely. He _never_ talks in riddles."
"Can we go to see him now?" asked Farnum.
"Certainly. Come along. I'll take you to the Hall of the Oracle."
The Oracle appeared to live in a building of modest size, in the center
of a tremendous courtyard. The structure that surrounded the courtyard,
in contrast, was enormous and elaborate, dominating the wildly
architectured city. It was, however, empty.
"Scholars used to live in this building, they tell me," said one of
their guides, gesturing casually. "They used to come here to learn from
the Oracle. But there's no sense in learning a lot of stuff when the
Oracle has always got all the answers anyway. So now the building is
empty. The big palace was built back in the days when we used to travel
among the stars, as you do now."
"How long ago was that?" asked Farnum.
"Oh, I don't know. A few thousand years--a few hundred years--the
Oracle can tell you if you really want to know."
Bates raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know you'll always be given
the straight dope?"