[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction February 1964.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
He was Earth's secret weapon, as
deadly as a sword--and two-edged!
I
The year was 2346, and Earth, at the time, was a political democracy.
The population was ruled by the Over-Council and, in order of
decreasing importance, by Councils, and Local Councils. Each was
composed of representatives duly apportioned by popular vote between
the two contending parties. Executive direction was provided by a
variety of Secretaries, selected by vote of the appropriate Councils.
An independent Judiciary upheld the laws.
A unified Earth sent colonists to the stars. Back came strange tales
and improbable animals.
Back, too, came word of a burgeoning technological civilization on the
planet Itra, peopled by entirely humanoid aliens.
Earth felt it would be wise for Itra to join in a Galactic Federation
and accordingly, submitted the terms of such a mutually advantageous
agreement.
The Itraians declined....
* * * * *
Space Captain Merle S. Shaeffer, the youngest and perhaps the most
naive pilot for Trans-Universe Transport, was called unexpectedly to
the New York office of the company.
When Capt. Shaeffer entered the luxurious eightieth story suite, Old
Tom Twilmaker, the President of TUT, greeted him. With an arm around
his shoulder, Old Tom led Capt. Shaeffer to an immense inner office and
introduced him to a General Reuter, identified as the Chairman of the
Interscience Committee of the Over-Council.
No one else was present. With the door closed, they were isolated in
Olympian splendor above and beyond the affairs of men. Here judgments
were final and impartial. Capt. Shaeffer, in the presence of two of the
men highest in the ruling councils of Earth, was reduced to incoherent
awe.
General Reuter moved about restlessly. Old Tom was serene and beatific.
When they were seated, Old Tom swiveled around and gazed long
in silence across the spires of the City. Capt. Shaeffer waited
respectfully. General Reuter fidgetted.
"Some day," Old Tom said at last, "I'm going to take my leave of this.
Yes, gentle Jesus! Oh, when I think of all the souls still refusing
to admit our precious Savior, what bitterness, oh, what sorrow is my
wealth to me! Look down upon the teeming millions below us. How many
know not the Lord? Yes, some morning, I will forsake all this and go
out into the streets to spend my last days bringing the words of hope
to the weary and oppressed. Are you a Christian, Merle?"
General Reuter cracked his knuckles nervously while Capt. Shaeffer
muttered an embarrassed affirmative.
"I am a deeply religious man," Old Tom continued. "I guess you've heard
that, Merle?"
"Yes sir," Capt. Shaeffer said.
"But did you know that the Lord has summoned you here today?" Old Tom
asked.
"No, sir," Capt. Shaeffer said.
"General Reuter, here, is a dear friend. We've known each other, oh,
many years. Distantly related through our dear wives, in fact. And we
serve on the same Board of Directors and the same Charity Committees....
A few weeks ago, when he asked me for a man, I called for your file,
Merle. I made discreet inquiries. Then I got down on my knees and
talked it over with God for, oh, it must have been all of an hour. I
asked, 'Is this the man?' And I was given a sign. Yes! At that moment,
a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds!"
* * * * *
General Reuter had continued his nervous movements throughout the
speech. For the first time, he spoke. "Good God, Tom, serve us a
drink." He turned to Capt. Shaeffer. "A little drink now and then helps
a man relax. I'll just have mine straight, Tom."
Old Tom studied Capt. Shaeffer. "I do not feel the gentle Master
approves of liquor."
"Don't try to influence him," General Reuter said. "You're embarrassing
the boy."
"I--" Capt. Shaeffer began.
"Give him the drink. If he doesn't want to drink it, he won't have to
drink it."
Sighing, Old Tom poured two bourbons from the bar in back of his desk
and passed them over. Martyrdom sat heavily upon his brow.
After a quick twist of the wrist and an expert toss of the head,
General Reuter returned an empty glass. "Don't mind if I do have
another," he said. He was already less restless.
"How's your ability to pick up languages?" General Reuter asked.
"I learned Spanish and Russian at TUT PS," Capt. Shaeffer said
apologetically. "I'm supposed to have a real high aptitude in
languages, according to some tests I took. In case we should meet
intelligent aliens, TUT gives them."
"You got no association with crackpot organizations, anything like
that?" General Reuter asked. "You're either a good Liberal-Conservative
or Radical-Progressive, aren't you? I don't care which. I don't believe
in prying into a man's politics."
"I never belonged to anything," Capt. Shaeffer said.
"Oh, I can assure you, that's been checked out very, very thoroughly,"
Old Tom said.
The General signaled for another drink. With a sigh of exasperation,
Old Tom complied.
"Bob," Old Tom said, "I really think you've had enough. Please, now.
Our Master counsels moderation."
"Damn it, Tom," the General said and turned back to the space pilot.
"May have a little job for you."
Old Tom shook his head at the General, cautioning him.
"Actually," the General said, ignoring the executive, "we'll be sort of
renting you from TUT. In a way you'll still be working for them. I can
get a million dollars out of the--"
"Bob!"
"--unmarked appropriation if it goes in in TUT's name. No questions
asked. National Defense. I couldn't get anywhere near that much for
an individual for a year. It gives us a pie to slice. We were talking
about it before you came in. How does a quarter of a million dollars a
year sound to you?"
"When it comes to such matters," Old Tom interjected hastily, "I think
first of the opportunities they bring to do good."
The General continued, "Now you know, Merle. And this is serious. I
want you to listen to me. Because this comes under World Security laws,
and I'm going to bind you to them. You know what that means? You'll be
held responsible."
"Yes, sir," Merle said, swallowing stiffly. "I understand."
"Good. Let's have a drink on that."
* * * * *
"Please be quiet, General," Old Tom said. "Let me explain. You see,
Merle, the Interscience Committee was recently directed to consider
methods for creating a climate of opinion on Itra--of which I'm sure
you've heard--which would be favorable to the proposed Galactic
Federation."
"Excuse me," General Reuter said. "They don't have a democracy, like
we do. They don't have any freedom like we do. I have no doubt the
average whateveryoucallem--Itraians, I guess--the average gooks--would
be glad to see us come in and just kick the hell out of whoever is in
charge of them."
"Now, General," Old Tom said more sharply.
"But that's not the whole thing," the General continued. "Even fit were
right thing to do, an' I'm not saying isn't--right thing to do--there's
log-lo-lo-gistics. I don't want to convey the impresh, impression that
our Defense Force people have been wasting money. Never had as much as
needed, fact. No, it's like this.
"We have this broad base to buil' from. Backbone. But we live in
a democracy. Now, Old Tom's Liberal-Conservative. And me, I'm
Radical-Progresshive. But we agree on one thing: importance of strong
defense. A lot of people don' understan' this. Feel we're already
spendin' more than we can afford. But I want to ask them, what's more
important than the defense of our planet?"
"General, I'm afraid this is not entirely germane," Old Tom said
stiffly.
"Never mind that right now. Point is, it will take us long time to get
the serious nature of the menace of Itra across to the voters. Then,
maybe fifteen, twenty years.... Let's just take one thing. We don't have
anywhere near enough troop transports to carry out the occupation of
Itra. You know how long it takes to build them? My point is, we may not
have that long. Suppose Itra should get secret of interstellar drive
tomorrow, then where would we be?"
Old Tom slammed his fist on the desk. "General, please! The boy isn't
interested in all that."
The General surged angrily to his feet. "By God, that's what's wrong
with this world today!" he cried. "Nobody's interested in Defense.
Spend only a measly twenty per cent of the Gross World Product on
Defense, and expect to keep strong! Good God, Tom, give me a drink!"
Apparently heresy had shocked him sober.
Old Tom explained, "The General is a patriot. We all respect him for
it."
"I understand," Capt. Shaeffer said.
General Reuter hammered his knuckles in rhythm on the table. "The
drink, the drink, the drink! You got more in the bottle. I saw it!"
Old Tom rolled his eyes Heavenward and passed the bottle across. "This
is all you get. This is all I've got."
The General held the bottle up to the light. "Should have brought my
own. Let's hurry up and get this over with."
Old Tom smiled the smile of the sorely beset and persecuted and said,
"You see, Merle, there's massive discontent among the population of
Itra. We feel we should send a man to the planet to, well, foment
change and, uh, hasten the already inevitable overthrow of the despotic
government. That man will be strictly on his own. The Government will
not be able to back him in any way whatsoever once he lands on Itra."
The General had quickly finished the bottle. "You she," he interrupted,
"there's one thing they can't fight, an' that's an idea. Jus' one man
goes to Itra with the idea of Freedom, that's all it'll take. How
many men did it take to start the 'Merican Revolution? Jefferson. The
Russian Revolution? Marx!"
"Yes," Old Tom said. "One dedicated man on Itra, preaching the ideas of
Liberty--liberty with responsibility and property rights under one God.
That man can change a world." Exhausted by the purity of his emotions,
Old Tom sat back gasping to await the answer.
"A quarter of a million dollars a year?" Capt. Shaeffer asked at length.