From his initial statement it was obvious that Bud sided with the group
determined to oppose all contact with the starmen. His reaction was
more frantic than most. He awoke at night from a soggy dream of terror.
_Let us alone_, he sobbed, trembling. _Let us alone._ The future, once
so secure, was now a veiled menace. _Go away_, he whispered into the
night, _let us alone. We don't want you. Go away._
He appeared sleepless for the first hearing. The three starmen filed
in. He hated them.
They testified.
Herb, in the witness stand, peered out at the swarm of white faces; his
head turned automatically from interrogator to interrogator.
"Our government is a modified democracy, much as your own, containing
strong safe guards for individual liberty and civil rights," Herb said.
One would need to look deeply into his eyes to detect the dullness and
the depersonalization that was the true index to the words.
His thoughts were fuzzy, floating upon the periphery of his immediate
existence. A detached part of himself seemed to observe and record
the proceedings without understanding them; there was a fever of
information inside of him.
"We believe in the mutual exchange of knowledge. As proof of our good
will, we will be glad to send in a team of scientists...." And later:
"Our aim is mutually profitable trade."
He rested. One of the starmen took the stand. The drone and whine of
voices lulled Herb. He wanted to relax, to sleep, to recover, to become
master of himself once again.
After a recess, he found himself once more on the stand. Senator
Rawlins, a thin, nervous mid-Westerner, began a line of inquiry. Herb
tested his fingers, feeling the comforting reality of the hard chair
arm. He explored the surface with childish wonder while his voice
responded and waited and responded. Dimly, persistently, doggedly,
stubbornly the ego, the self--that small spark of assertiveness and
awareness--struggled to arrange and order, to reason and make sense
of--to unify and master--the knowledge it possessed. The consistency
with which his spoken lies appealed to human prejudice should have
made him realize the extent to which the Oligarchy was experienced
in dealing with alien civilizations and the extent to which they had
prepared specifically to confront this one. But he was aware only of
the sound of his voice. The words fell away into some lost abyss of
confusion.
"But the theory behind this, now?" Senator Rawlins said.
"I'm sorry, sir. We are technicians aboard this expedition. We have
very little to do with the theoretical aspects. That's up to the
Scientists."
"Well, you are, sir, familiar with the idea that--we'll say--that light
has limited velocity?"
"Yes, sir, that is correct. It wouldn't make sense for it to have
infinite velocity, to be instantaneously everywhere." A tiny sense of
urgency formed in his mind.
"Are you familiar with the fact that the speed of light is a limiting
factor? Nothing in the natural Universe goes faster than light."
"I couldn't say, sir, I really don't know. At an extremely high speed
our space ship makes a, a _transition_, but ... I guess, sir, yes,
sir." The answers weren't coming now. The Oligarch had not dared permit
him scientific knowledge. There was a little vacuum where there should
be information.
"You'll pardon me, but aren't you unusually ignorant, for a technician,
about physical theory: about the action of gases that we were talking
about a moment ago--in fact, even about astronomy?"
Herb did not say that such pursuits were the exclusive prerogatives of
the Oligarchs. He did not say: I am inferior in mental capacity to an
Oligarch; I can never become a Scientist. That was not to be mentioned.
"I am a technician, sir."
Senator Rawlins shook his head and made a few notes.
There was fear somewhere inside of him. What more could he say?
Suppose ... suppose.... Had he answered wrong? It was as if his
knowledge were a river rushing his ego toward the great waterfall of
defeat, and he was powerless to control anything. He must not fail.
Must not, must not, must not fail.
The imminence of collapse made the very sky terrifying, to know that
this apparent order could crumble, and planets fly from suns, and suns
themselves spin blindly nowhere. Every word before the Committee was
vital. The whole wheeling order of existence turned upon it.
He felt the wood beneath his finger tips, smooth and cool and solid.
* * * * *
The second day of the open hearing, Norma flew down from Vermont to
reason with Bud.
Bud was gracious. Years in politics had taught him to mask his real
feelings; taught him so well that he was no longer at all sure what his
real feelings were.
The outbursts of anger and suppressed sadism he unleashed on those
closest to him always the morning after confused him and left him
feeling that the person of the previous day had been someone distinct
and separate from his genuine self.
"It's good to see you," he said. A warm, brotherly and artificial
love flattered his sense of rectitude. He considered her the baby of
the family. He remembered her as a gawky, frightened girl giving a
last long glance at the security of the living room before venturing
into the night of her first date. "I've been meaning to get up your
way." His hands signaled the extent of his confinement to Washington.
"There's so much to do, you can't imagine. I have to take work home
with me. I'm sometimes up half the night with it.... I've been hearing
about you. Very fine, Norma, very fine."
Norma was tense and uncomfortable and, Bud thought, a little over-awed
to be sitting across the desk from her own brother in the rebuilt
Senate Office Building.
She blinked nervously. "Frank will be in this afternoon."
"Yes. Yes?" A trace of petulance haunted Bud's voice. "Terribly busy
just now, but...." Hollow enthusiasm conquered. "That's just fine. I
can always find time to see Frank."
"He thinks it's important that he see you," Norma said.
"Has something happened?" Bud always sought ways to escape from the
anticipated responsibility of sharing a family crisis.
"We want to talk to you."
"I don't quite understand, Norma. What are you talking about?"
"These hearings, Bud."
Instantly the Senator felt the crush of the whole family arrayed
against him, and he wanted to snarl at her in shame and anger and
shout, "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone, for Chrissake!"
"They've got space flight. We can't even begin to guess what else
they've got. What does Senator Stilson do? And you're there on his
side, right with him!"
Bud puffed his cheeks and his skin grew hot and prickly. _It's none of
your damned business_, he thought viciously.
"They have space flight," she repeated doggedly. "Think what that would
mean to us."
"I haven't time to discuss it right now, Sis. We'll have to talk this
out later." He stood up, anger pounding in his temples.
She stood with him. "Tonight. You and I and Frank."
"I don't quite see how...." His voice was weary, and he let the
sentence hang short of blunt refusal.
"Tonight, Bud. We've got to see you tonight. He's flying in."
"Well ..." he sighed resignedly. "My place, then. I'll see you at, nine
o'clock there."
"That will be fine."
"Nine, then. I've got to rush. My place at nine."
"Goodby, Bud."
* * * * *
Less than an hour later flash bulbs popped from all corners of the room
as the starmen entered for their second session of questioning.
Chairman Stilson, in a peevishly thin voice, limited the photographers
to ten minutes and ruled against pictures during the questioning. After
nearly half an hour, the hearing got under way.
Herb was first on the stand. He continued in the same fashion as
yesterday. His answers were polite and informative. Senator Stilson's
attempt to get him to contradict himself proved unfruitful. Herb
surrendered the chair to one of the others and returned to his seat at
the long table reserved for the starmen.
The hearing droned on. He no longer listened. He wanted to sleep.
"Yes," said the starman who was testifying, "that is correct. One
of our main reasons for making this expedition is to offer you
technological information: space flight, medicine...."
"... eventually trade...."
"Initiate a cultural exchange at the first practical moment...."
Herb heard someone say: "But we have limited facilities on this
expedition. A larger one, with your permission, will be dispatched for
Earth within a year." He was not even sure whether it was he who was
speaking. "In the meantime, we would like permission to conduct certain
scientific tests on the surface.... A mineral analysis, sir, primarily.
But we are interested in geological evidence...."
"... whether or not," someone said, "the physical similarity of our two
races is due to parallel evolution or to a forgotten, prehistoric cycle
of colonization by a common ancestor...."
"... These tests can be completed within a few days...."
"In return, sir, we offer...."
"... We must leave within a week. We must have an answer before then."
They described their own planet and their own civilization. They made
an excellent impression.
When it was Bud's turn to question, he asked Herb: "How do we
know--here, you've learned the language, so much about us and all--how
do we know that this isn't a fabrication, a tissue of prevarications
you're telling the American people here today? We have to take
everything on faith. Now, you know so much about us, you have studied
us...."
"We have only a week ..." Herb replied.
* * * * *
They were waiting for Bud at nine o'clock. He was late.
"I'm sorry," Bud said. "Came as quickly as I could. I was at a secret
session.... But for a brother and sister, well, I just had to leave...."
"We appreciate it, Bud," Norma said.
"Drink, anybody?"
"No, thanks," Frank said.
Norma shook her head.
"Mind if I have one? I'm rather upset today--the hearings and all, the
meeting tonight...."
He went to his bar.
Frank was on the sofa. His gaunt, heavy boned body waited motionless.
His blunt fingered, surgeon's hands lay unmoving. His skin was tanned
from the Oklahoma sun. Norma sat stiffly erect in the overstuffed chair.
"I guess you know what we want to see you about," Frank said.
Bud poured carefully without looking around. "Norma said something
about the starmen. Terrifying thing, terrifying thing. You think
they'll really leave when we tell them to?"
"I don't see there's much we can do about it if they make up their
minds to stay," Frank said.
"Look, Bud," Norma said, "think how far ahead of us they are. They must
be friendly, they must be sincere in their offer to help us."
Bud shook his head. "My deep and sincere conviction on this is that
it's a matter of our pride and our independence and our freedom.
They're all at stake. I mean--" He waved helplessly. "You know how I
feel. I mean, my views are in all the papers, in the _Record_. With me
it's a matter of principle. I don't see how we can accept that sort of
offer. It's degrading."
"If we tell them to leave, to go away, to leave us alone, we've lost
the greatest opportunity in history." Norma insisted.
"Norma," Bud said. "You know how I feel about you. You know I'd do
anything in the world for either of you. Anything within my power. All
you need do is ask. Money, anything. But this ... this.... We're proud.
Mankind is proud." His heart swelled with the beauty of renunciation
and righteousness. "We're too proud, too independent, too _free_. I
would not be willing to sacrifice those great, eternal truths, those
historic principles that are the foundation of our way of life, that
have made America great: dignity, pride, self reliance...."
"I think they have about the same metabolism as humans," Frank
said. "Speaking as a medical man, I believe if they'd give us their
medical knowledge, we could conquer disease on Earth. And with their
technology--"
"We are a proud race," Bud said. "We must cling to that. That is more
precious than gold."
When Frank spoke, there was a mixture of contempt and terror in his
voice. "Bud, you're a monument to the basic anarchy of the American
people."
"_Frank!_" Norma cried.
"He is. If the people paid any attention to what they were doing, do
you think they'd elect a man like that?"
Bud's mind darted frantically. What was happening here? What was behind
this? Why was Frank, his own brother, out to get him? What sinister
motive--?
"You underestimate them, though," Frank said. "There's a little trickle
of maturity in this country. For every aberration like you it gains
a drop of experience and knowledge. The war is over. We've had our
emotional jag. We're about to go into one of our rational periods.
We're about to wake up to our responsibilities. Your day is passing. I
don't know if there's enough of you left to keep out the starmen. The
people are coming around. But--I--do--know--this. I know...."
"Stop!" Norma cried. "You don't understand Bud! You're trying to make
him into something dishonest and cynical!"
"I've watched him come up. I've watched him for years. I've seen all
the rotten deals he's pulled. I've seen him smear innocent people--ruin
their careers--and all not for patriotism but for himself. To advance
his career. Keep his name before the public. He doesn't care for
anything but Bud. Bud, and any means to the end that he moves up, gets
power--power for power's sake--power to create and destroy--power to
change and control. I've watched him: I know him. I'm talking the only
language he understands."
Bud was trembling. The sense of indignation, horror, and innocence was
blunted by the shallow dryness of his breathing.
"Frank! Stop this! You're out of your mind!"
"I'm going to see you defeated in the next election, Bud. I'm going to
dig up dirt, I'm going to find out who your mistresses are. I'm your
brother. I'm going to hound you, disgrace you, drive you from office.
You know me. You know I mean what I say. _You know I will do it._"
"What do you want? My, my God, Frank, what are you after?"
* * * * *
Frank's hands were shaking. His mouth worked nervously. "For once in
my life, for once in my life I've got something all-the-way decent to
fight for, and I mean to fight just as dirty as I have to get it. Bud,
you're coming over to my side on this starmen hearing. You're going to
vote for co-operation with them. Do you hear me? Do you hear what I
say?"
Bud, his eyes bulging with shock and disbelief, shook his head dumbly.
His own brother--this terror raging before him--impossible, his own
brother.... His heart pounded. His will was gone. "What do you want?"
he repeated dryly.
"I told you."
"I--I--I'll have to think. I--I--"
"No, you won't," Frank said. He stood before him now. "No, you won't."
Norma jumped between them. "Leave him alone!"
Bud snaked from behind her and fled to the bar. His unprotected back a
crawling mass of chill, he poured himself a drink. "You're ... you're
upset, Frank. You've been, been overworked." He drank the drink in a
feverish gulp. "Now ..." his voice fluttered nervously. "I'll forget
what you've said here tonight. I understand." His breathing was still
tight and frightened. "About the starmen. I haven't, I haven't really
given the matter too, too much ... attention. I still have an ... I was
just today thinking of...."
Frank started to speak.
"I can see both sides of the argument," Bud said rapidly. In the depth
of his stomach he lived with the cold knowledge that Frank would stoop
to anything--any lie, any distortion--to--defeat him. Frank could
defeat him. It wasn't as if Frank were a stranger. It wasn't as if Bud
had been in the Senate for years. No, he was a vulnerable freshman, and
unscrupulous politicians back home were already.... This was terrible.
All his dreams of the future trembled on his words. He was physically
afraid.
"Frank is upset!" Norma said frantically.
"Yes, yes," Bud murmured.
"Frank, you apologize! You hear me! Apologize!"
Frank and Bud found their eyes locked in a moment of silent
communication, and seeing victory in the dull defeat inside of Bud,
Frank said hoarsely, "I apologize, Bud. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have
said those things. I lost my head. I'm sorry."
They both knew it was no apology. The threat was still very much there.