At the spaceport, carefully selected persons filed onto the space-liner
_Vestis_. It was not officially believed that the other three great
chartered ships would arrive before the Mekinese fleet. It was, in fact,
rather likely that none of the information given by Talents,
Incorporated was ever believed until the event confirmed the prediction.
In the case of the first liner, those who went on board had been chosen
by a strict principle of priority. Men who would merely be imprisoned
when Mekin took over had no privilege of escape. Not yet. Those who were
destined for execution as soon as a quisling government was formed, were
also not entitled to depart on the liner. But those who had
conspicuously supported King Humphrey in his resistance to intimidation;
those who had encouraged others to object to concessions which could
only be forerunners of other concessions; those who had spoken and
written and labored to spread information about the facts of life under
Mekin, would not merely be imprisoned or executed. They would be
tortured. So they were entitled to first chance at escape.
The space-liner blasted off some six hours after its arrival. It
vanished blessedly into overdrive where it could not be intercepted. It
headed for the far-away world of Trent, where its passengers would be
allowed to land as refugees and where, doubtless, they would speak
bitterly about Mekin for all the rest of their lives. But the government
of Mekin would not care.
Mekin was a phenomenon so improbable that only those who were students
of past civilizations could really believe it. There were innumerable
references to such regimes in the histories of ancient Earth. There was,
for example, Napoleon, said people informed about such matters. With a
fraction of a fraction of one per cent of the French people actively
cooperating, he overawed the rest and then took over a nation which was
not even his own. Then he took over other nations where less than a
fraction of a fraction of one per cent concurred. Then he took soldiers
from those second-order conquests to make third-order conquests, and
then soldiers from the third to make fourth.
There was Mussolini, said the learned men. He had organized a group of
rowdies and gangsters, and began by levying protection-money on
gambling-houses and even less reputable resorts, and with the money
increased his following. He had murdered those who opposed him and
presently he collected protection money from even the great business
corporations of his country, financing more political gangsterism until
he ruled his nation for himself and his confederates.
And there was Hitler, said the historically-minded. In the beginning his
followers never dared show themselves in the uniforms they adopted,
because their fellow-countrymen hated everything they stood for. But
before the end came they worshipped him. They murdered millions at his
command, but they died because of him, too.
There was Lenin, and there was Stalin. Specialists in history could talk
very learnedly about the developments on Mekin which paralleled the
cabals headed by Lenin, and later, Stalin. Theirs was a much more
durable organization than those of Napoleon and Mussolini and Hitler.
The ruling clique on Mekin had begun in this manner.
Mekin had once had a cause to which all its officials paid lip-service
and some possibly believed in. Because of this cause it was the
organization and not the individual who was apotheosized. Therefore,
there could be fierce battles among members of the ruling class. There
could be conspiracies. The last three dictators of Mekin had been
murdered in palace revolutions, and the current dictator was more
elaborately protected from his confreres than any mere hereditary tyrant
ever needed to be. But Mekin remained a strong and dynamic world,
engaged in the endless subjugation of other worlds for a purpose nobody
really remembered any more.
Against such a society, a planet like Kandar was helpless. Mekin could
not be placated nor satisfied with less than the subjugation and the
ruin of its neighbors. For a time, Kandar had tried to arm for its own
defense. It had a space-fleet which in quality was probably equal to
Mekin's, but in quantity was hopelessly less. Also it had a defensive
policy. It did not dream of any but a defensive war. And no war was ever
won by mere defense. There could be no defense against the building-up
of tensions, the contriving of incidents, the invention of insults. It
had been proved often enough. Eventually there was an ultimatum, and
there was surrender, and then the installation of a puppet government
and the ruthless bleeding of another captured planet for the benefit of
the rulers of Mekin.
The process was implacable. There was nothing to be done but submit,
flee or die. Various parts of Kandar's population chose one or another
course. Four great liners would carry away those who could be helped to
flee. The mass of the people must submit, the fighting forces savagely
made ready to die.
But in the cabinet meeting after the destruction of the hidden enemy
cruiser, the tone was set by highly practical men. Bors was present at
the meeting. He'd destroyed the cruiser. He was to be questioned about
it. He had Morgan standing by to explain the part of Talents,
Incorporated if required.
King Humphrey said heavily, "This is probably the last cabinet meeting
before the coming of the Mekinese. I do not think oratory is called for.
I put the situation as it stands. A fleet will come from Mekin for our
answer to their ultimatum. Our space-fleet will not surrender. Our air
force is openly mutinous at the idea of submission. It has been said
that if we fight, our planet will be bombed from space until all its air
is poison, so that every living creature here will die. If this is true,
I do not think that even we who plan to fight have the right to bring
such a bombing about. But I doubt if that is true. There has been one
incident. Whether one likes it or not, it has happened. Captain Bors has
reason to hope that the space-fleet, by fighting to the death, can
actually benefit the rest of our people."
Bors spoke, excitement coloring his words.
"It's perfectly simple. There are only two kinds of people, slaves and
free men. Slaves can be tortured and killed without concern. With free
men a bargain has always to be struck. If there is no resistance to the
Mekinese, they will despise us. We will be worse off than if we fight.
Because if we fight, at least our people will be respected. They may be
oppressed because they are conquered, but they won't be treated with
the contempt and doubled oppression given to slaves."
A bearded man said querulously, "That's theory. It's psychology. It even
smacks of idealism! Let us be realistic! As a practical man, I am
concerned with getting the best possible terms for our population. After
all, the dictator of Mekin must be a reasonable man! He must be a
practical man! I believe that we should negotiate until the very last
instant."
Bors said indignantly, "Negotiate? You haven't anything to negotiate
with! I am not a citizen of Kandar, though I serve in its fleet. I am
still a national of Tralee. But I have talked to the officers of the
fleet. They won't surrender. You can't negotiate for them to do so. You
can't negotiate for them to go quietly away and pretend that nothing has
happened and that there never was a fleet. When the Mekinese arrive, the
fleet will fight. It doesn't hope to win; it doesn't expect
anything--except getting killed honorably when its enemy would like to
have it grovel. But it's going to fight!"
King Humphrey said doggedly, "My influence does not extend to the
disgrace of our fighting forces. The fleet will fight. I believe it
unwise. But since it will fight I shall be in the flagship and it _will
not surrender_."
There was a pause. The bearded man said peevishly, "But it should fight
on its own! It should not compromise Kandar!"
There was a murmur. King Humphrey looked about him from under lowered
brows.
"That can be arranged," he said heavily. "I will constitute a caretaker
government by royal proclamation. I will appoint you," he looked
steadily at the bearded man, "to be head of it and make such terms as
you can. If you like, when the Mekinese come you can warn them that the
fleet has mutinied under me, its king, and may offer battle, but that
you are ready to lead the people of Kandar in--"
"In licking the boots of all Mekinese," said Bors in an icy tone.
There was a small rumble of protest. Bors stood up.
"I'd better leave," he said coldly. "I'm not entitled to speak. If you
want me, I can be reached."
He strode from the council-chamber. As the door closed behind him, he
ground his teeth. The stout man, Morgan, of the space-yacht _Sylva_,
paced up and down the room where he waited to be called. His daughter
sat tranquilly in a chair. She smiled pleasantly at Bors when he came
in. Morgan turned to face him.
"Here's some Talents, Incorporated information," he said zestfully. "The
cabinet is scared. A few are willing to fight, but most are already
trying to think how they can make terms with the Mekinese."
Bors opened his mouth to swear, then checked himself.
"Gwenlyn," said Morgan, "will pardon an expression of honest
indignation. It's a dirty shame, eh?"
"If I were a native of Kandar," said Bors bitterly, "I'd be even more
ashamed than I am as a native of Tralee. The people of Tralee
surrendered, but they didn't realize what they were getting into. These
men do!"
The girl Gwenlyn said quietly, "I'm sorry for King Humphrey."
"He's miscast," said Morgan briskly. "He should be king of a calm and
peaceful world in calm and peaceful times. You're going to have trouble
with him, Captain Bors!" Then he said; "Perhaps we can work out a plan
or two, eh? While you're waiting for the cabinet to call you back?"
"I've no authority," said Bors. "My uncle's the Pretender of Tralee, and
I was originally commissioned in the fleet as a sort of courtesy to him.
I can't speak for anybody but myself."
"You can speak for common sense," said Gwenlyn. "After all, you know
what the people really want. You could try to arrange things so that the
fleet can fight well."
"It'll fight well," said Bors curtly. "It'll give a good account of
itself! But that won't do any good!"
Morgan struck an attitude, beaming.
"Ah! But you've got Talents, Incorporated on your side! You don't
realize yet, Captain, what a difference that can make! While there's
life and Talents, Incorporated, there's hope!"
Bors shrugged. Suddenly he found that he, too, drearily accepted defeat.
There was no more hope of accomplishment. There was nothing to be
achieved. He would serve no purpose by straining against the impossible.
He said tiredly, "I'll agree that Talents, Incorporated cost the
Mekinese one cruiser."
"A trifle," said Morgan, waving his hand, "mere soupcon of
accomplishment. We're prepared to do vastly more."
It occurred to Bors to be curious.
"Why? You're risking your life and your daughter's by staying here. If
Mekin ever finds out about its cruiser on the sea bottom and your share
in that affair, you'll be in a fix! And certainly you can't expect to
make a profit here? We couldn't even pay you for what you've already
done!"
"I'm right now," said Morgan placidly, "quite as rich as I want to be.
I've another ambition--but let's not go into that. I want to show you
what Talents, Incorporated can do in the four days--" he looked at his
watch--"three hours and some odd minutes that remain before the Mekinese
fleet turns up. You've checked up on Talents, Incorporated?"
"My uncle says," Bors told him, "that you kept Phillip of Norden from
being assassinated by a fission-bomb at a cornerstone laying. He also
says you wouldn't accept a reward, only a medal."
"I collect them," said Morgan modestly. "You'd be surprised how many
orders and decorations a man can acquire by industry and
organization--and Talents, Incorporated."
Gwenlyn said, "Four days, three hours and some odd minutes--"
"True," said Morgan. "Let's get at it. Captain Bors, have you ever heard
of a lightning calculator--a person who can do complicated sums in his
head as fast as he can hear or read the numbers involved?"
"Yes," said Bors. "It's quite phenomenal, I believe."
"It's a form of genius," said Morgan. "Only I call it a talent because
it tends to make itself useless. Have you ever heard of a dowser?"
"If you mean a man who finds places for wells, and locates mines by
means of a hazel twig--"
"The hazel twig is immaterial," Morgan told him. "The point is that
you've heard of them, and you know that they can actually do such
things. Right?"
Bors frowned. "It's not proven," he said. "At least I think it isn't
considered proven because it isn't understood. But I believe it's
conceded that such things are done. I believe, in fact, that dowsing has
been done on photographs and maps, in an office, and not on the spot at
all. I admit that that seems impossible. But I'm told it happens."
Morgan nodded rapidly, very well pleased.
"One more. Have you heard of precognition?"
Bors nodded. Then he shrugged.
"I have a Talent," said Morgan. "I have a man in my employ with a talent
for precognizing when ships are going to arrive. His gift is strictly
limited. He used to work in a spaceport office. He always knew when a
ship was coming in. He didn't know how he knew. He doesn't know now. But
he always knows when a ship will arrive at the planet where he is."
"Interesting," said Bors, only half listening.
"He was discharged," Morgan went on, "because he allowed a maintenance
crew to disassemble, for repair, a vital relay in a landing-grid on the
very day when three space-ships were scheduled for arrival. There was
pandemonium, of course, because nothing could have landed there. So when
my Talent let the relay be dismantled, with three ships expected.... But
one ship was one day late, another two days, and the third, four. He
knew it. He didn't know how, but he knew! He was discharged anyway."
Bors did not answer. The cabinet meeting in the other room went on.
"He told me," said Morgan, matter-of-factly, "that four ships would
arrive on Kandar, and when. One of them has arrived. The others will
come as predicted. He knows that a fleet will get here two days after
the last of the four. One can guess it will be the Mekinese fleet."
Bors frowned. He was interested now.
"I've another Talent," pursued Morgan. "He ought to be a paranoiac. He
has all the tendencies to suspicion that a paranoid personality has. But
his suspicions happen to be true. He'll read an item in a newspaper or
walk past, oh, say a bank. Darkly and suspiciously, he guesses that the
newspaper item will suggest a crime to someone. Or that someone will
attempt to rob the bank in this fashion or that, at such-and-such a
time. And someone does!"
"He'd be an uncomfortable companion," Bors observed wryly.
"I found him in jail," said Morgan cheerfully. "He'd been warning the
police of crimes to come. They happened. So the police jailed him and
demanded that he name his accomplices so they could break up the
criminal gang whose feats he knew in advance. I got him out of jail and
hired him as a Talent in Talents, Incorporated."
Bors blinked.
"Before we landed here," said Morgan, "I'd told him about the political
situation, the events you expect. He immediately suspected that the
Mekinese would have a ship down somewhere, to blast the fleet of Kandar
if it should dare to resist. In fact, he said positively that such a
cruiser was waiting word to fire fusion-bombs."
Bors blinked again.
"And I spread out maps," said Morgan, "and my dowser went over them--not
with a hazel twig, but something equally unscientific--his instinct--and
he assured me that the cruiser was under water five miles
north-north-east magnetic from Cape Farnell. The map said the depth
there was fifty fathoms. Then my paranoid Talent observed that there'd
be spies on shore with means to signal to the submerged cruiser. My
dowser then found a small shack on the map where a communicator to the
ship would be. With the information about the arrival of the liners, and
the facts about the cruiser--and I had other information too--I went to
the Ministry for Diplomatic Affairs and told you. As you know, the
information I gave you was accurate."
Bors felt as if he'd been hit over the head. This was ridiculous! He'd
hunted for the space-cruiser under the sea because the prediction of the
liner's arrival was so uncannily correct. He'd helped plan and carry out
the destruction of that warship because its existence and location were
verified by a magnetometer. But if he'd known how the information was
obtained, if he'd known it was guessed at by a discharged spaceport
employee, and a paranoid personality, and a man who used a hazel twig or
something similar.... If he'd known that, he'd never have dreamed of
accepting it. He'd have flatly dismissed the ship-arrival prediction!
But, if he hadn't trusted the information enough to check on it, why,
the small space-fleet of Kandar would vanish in atomic flame when it
tried to take off to fight. With it would vanish Bors, and his uncle,
and the king and many resolute haters of Mekin.
Gwenlyn said, "You're perfectly right, Captain."
"What's that?" asked Bors, numbly.
"It is stark-raving lunacy," said Gwenlyn pleasantly. "Just like it
would have seemed stark-raving lunacy, once upon a time, to think of
people talking to each other when they were a thousand miles apart. Like
it seemed insane to talk about flying machines. And again when they said
there could be a space-drive in which the reaction would be at a right
angle to the action, and especially when somebody said that a way would
be found to drive ships faster than light. It's lunacy, just like those
things!"
"Y-yes," agreed Bors, his thoughts crowding one another. "It's all of
that!"
Morgan nodded his head rapidly.
"I felt that way about it," he observed, "when I first got the idea of
finding and organizing Talents for practical purposes. But I said to
myself, 'Lots of great fortunes have been made by people assuming that
other people are idiots.' In some ways they are, you know. And then I
said to myself, 'Possibly a fortune can be made by somebody assuming
that _he_ is an idiot.' So I assumed it was idiotic to doubt something
that visibly happened, merely because I couldn't understand it. And
Talents, Incorporated was born. It's done quite well."
Bors shook his head as if to clear it.
"It seems to have worked," he admitted. "But if I'd known--" He spread
out his hands. "I'll play along! What more can you do for us?"
"I've no idea," said Morgan placidly. "Such things have to work
themselves out, with a little prodding, of course. But one of my Talents
says the lightning-calculator Talent is the one who'll do you the most
good soonest. I'd suggest--"
There was a murmur of voices from the cabinet room. The door opened and
King Humphrey came out. He looked baffled, which was not unusual. But he
looked enraged, which was.
"Bors!" he said thickly. "I've always thought I was a practical man! But
if being practical means what some members of my cabinet think, I would
rather be a poet! Bors, do something before my cabinet dethrones me and
tricks the fleet into disbanding!"
He stumbled across the room, not noticing Morgan or Gwenlyn. Bors came
to attention.
"Majesty," he said, not knowing whether he spoke in irony or
bewilderment, "I take that as an order."
The king did not answer. When the door on the other side of the room
closed behind his unregal figure, Bors turned to Morgan.
"I think I've been given authority," he said in a sort of baffled calm.
"Suppose we go, Mr. Morgan, and find out what your lightning calculator
can do in the way of mental arithmetic, to change the situation of the
kingdom?"
"Fine!" said Morgan cheerfully. "D'you know, Captain Bors, he can solve
a three-body problem in his head? He hasn't the least idea how he does
it, but the answer always comes out right!" Then he said exuberantly,
"He'll tell you something useful, though! That's Talents, Incorporated
information!"