They came out of the darkness of Transpace that evening and the stars
returned in the glory of a million closely gathered suns. The Markovian
Nucleus lay in a galaxy of tightly packed stars that made bright the
nights of all their planets. It was a spectacle for Cameron, who had
traveled but little away from the Solar System, and for Joyce who had
never traveled at all.
Marthasa and Sal Karone were with them in the lounge watching the
screens as the ship changed drives. The Markovian squinted a moment and
pointed to a minor dot near the corner of the view. "That's our
destination. Another six hours and you can set foot on the best planet
in the whole Universe!"
If it had been mere enthusiasm, Cameron could have taken it with
tolerant understanding. But Marthasa's smugness and arrogance had not
deserted him once since the beginning of this leg of the trip.
Objectively, as a cultural facet to be examined, it was interesting, but
Cameron agreed with Joyce that it was going to be difficult to live
with.
The unsolved puzzle, however, was Sal Karone. It was obvious that the Id
was sensitive to the gauche ways of the Master, yet his equally obvious
devotion was unwavering.
Marthasa had sent word ahead to the government that he desired the
Terrans to be his guests. Evidently he was a person of influence for
assent was returned immediately.
His planet was a colorful world, banded by huge, golden deserts and
pinkish seas. The dense vegetation of the habitable areas was blue with
only a scattered touch of green. Cameron wondered about the chemistry
involved.
The landing was made at a port that bordered a sea. The four of them
were the only ones disembarking, and before the car that met them had
reached the edge of the city the ship was gone again.
A pirates' lair, Cameron thought, without the slightest touch of
amusement. The field looked very old, and from it he could imagine
raiders had once taken off to harass distant shipping and do wanton
destruction of cities and peoples on innocent worlds.
He watched the face of Marthasa as they rode through the city. There was
a kind of Roman splendor in what they saw, and there was a crude Roman
pride in the Markovian who was their host. The arrogance, that was not
far from cruelty, could take such pride in the sweep of spaceships
embarking on missions of murder and plunder.
And yet all this barbarism had been put aside. Only the arrogance
remained, expressed in Marthasa's tone as he called their attention to
the features of the city and landscape through which they passed. It
wasn't pleasing particularly to Terran tastes, but Cameron guessed that
it represented a considerable accomplishment to the Markovians. Stone
appeared to be the chief building material, and, while the craftsmanship
was exact, the lines of the structures lacked the grace of the Greek and
Roman monuments of which Cameron was reminded.
They came at last to the house of Marthasa. There was no doubt now that
he was a man of wealth or importance--probably both. He occupied a vast,
villa-like structure set on a low hill overlooking the city. It was a
place of obvious luxury in the economic scale of the Markovians.
They were assigned spacious quarters overlooking a garden of incredible
colors beyond the transparent wall facing it. Sal Karone was also
assigned duties as their personal attendant, which Cameron grasped
intuitively was a gesture of supreme honor among the Markovians. He
thanked Marthasa profusely for this courtesy.
After getting unpacked they were shown through the house and grounds and
met Marthasa's family. His wife was a woman of considerable beauty even
by Terran standards, but there was a sharpness in her manner and a sense
of coldness in the small black eyes that repelled Cameron and Joyce even
as the thoughtless actions of Marthasa had done.
Cameron looked carefully for the same qualities in the three smaller
children who were at home, and found them easily. In none of them was
there the aura of serenity possessed by the Id servants.
When they were finally alone that night Cameron sat down to make some
notes on their observations up to date. "The fault line I mentioned is
so obvious you can't miss it," he said to Joyce. "It's as if they're
living one kind of life because they think it's the thing to do, but all
their thoughts and feelings are being drawn invisibly in another
direction--and they're half ashamed of it."
"Maybe the Ids have something to do with it. Remember Marthasa's
statement that the relationship of the _sarghs_ does something to the
Markovians? If we found out exactly what that something is, we might
have the answer."
Cameron shook his head. "I've tried to fit it together that way, too,
but it just doesn't add up. The basic premise of the Ids is asceticism
and there never was any strength in that idea. Marthasa is probably
right in his estimate of the Ids. They have achieved an internal
serenity but only through compensating their basic weakness with the
crude strength of the Markovians and other races to which they cling.
They haven't the strength to build a civilization of their own.
Certainly they haven't got the power to influence the whole Nucleus.
No--we'll have to look a good deal farther than the Ids before we find
the answer. I'm convinced of that, even though I'd like to find out
exactly what makes _them_ tick. Maybe next trip--"
* * * * *
The following days were spent in almost profitless activity as far as
their basic purpose in being in the Nucleus was concerned. Marthasa and
his wife took them on long tours through the city and into the scenic
areas of the continent. They promised trips over the whole planet and to
other worlds of the Nucleus. There seemed no end to the sight-seeing
that was proposed for them to do.
Cameron improved his facility with the language, and Joyce was beginning
to get along without the translator. They were introduced to a
considerable number of other Markovians, including the official
representative of Premier Jargla. This gave them added contact with the
Markovian character, but Marthasa and his family seemed so typical of
the race that scarcely anything new was learned from the others.
At no time was anything hinted in reference to the original reluctance
to have the Terrans visit the Nucleus. All possible courtesy was shown
them now, and Cameron dared not mention the invitations to stay home. He
felt the situation was as penetrable as a thick wall of sponge rubber
backed by a ten-foot foundation of steel.
After three weeks of this, however, he cautiously broached the subject
of meeting the son and daughter of Marthasa in regard to visiting the
library and museum. He had met each of them just once and found them
rather cool to his presence. He had not dared express his interest in
their specialties at that time.
Marthasa was favorable and apologetic, however. "I have intended to
arrange it," he said. "There have been so many other things to do that I
have neglected your interest in these things. We won't neglect it any
longer. Suppose we make an appointment for this afternoon? Zlenon will
be able to give you his personal attention."
[Illustration: JOYCE]
Zlenon was Marthasa's son, who held the position of Chief Historian at
the research library. He was more slender and darker than his father,
and lacking in his volubility and glad-handedness.
He greeted Cameron's request with a tolerant smile. "You have to be
quite specific, Mr. Wilder, when you say you would like to know about
the history of the Markovian Nucleus. You understand the Nucleus
consists of over a hundred worlds and has a composite history extending
back more than thirty thousand of your years in very minute detail."
Cameron countered with a helpless shrug and smile. "I'm afraid I'll have
to depend on your good nature to guide me through such a mass. I don't
intend to become a student of Markovian history, of course, but perhaps
you have adequate summaries with which a stranger could start. Going
backward, let us say, for perhaps two or three hundred Terran years?"
"Of course--some very excellent ones are available--" He moved toward
the reading table nearby and began punching a selection of buttons.
As Cameron and Joyce moved to follow, Marthasa waved a hand expansively
and started out the other way. "I can see you're going to be set for a
while. I'll just leave you here, and send the car back after I reach the
house. Don't be late for dinner."
They nodded and smiled and turned to Zlenon. The Markovian was watching
them with pin-point eyes. "I wondered if there was any _particular_
problem in which you might be interested," he said calmly. "If there
is--?"
Cameron shook his head hastily. "No--certainly not. Just general
information--"
The Historian turned his attention to the table and began explaining its
use to the Terrans, showing how they could obtain recording of any
specific material they wished to choose. It would appear in either
printed or pictorial form or could be had on audio if they wanted it.
Once he was certain they could make their own selections he left them to
their study.
"This is the best break we could possibly have hoped for," Joyce
whispered as Zlenon disappeared from their sight. "We can get anything
we want in the whole library if I understand the operation of this
gadget the way I think I do."
"That's the way it looks to me," Cameron answered. "But don't get your
hopes too high. There must be a catch in it somewhere, the way they were
trying to shoo us away from coming here."
* * * * *
They punched the buttons for the history of the planet they were on,
scanning slowly from the present to earlier years. There were endless
accountings of trading and commercial treaties between members of the
Nucleus as shifts of economic balance occurred. There were stories of
explorations and benevolent contacts with races on the outer worlds.
Details of their most outstanding scientific discoveries, which seemed
to come with profligate rapidity--
Cameron whipped back through the pages of the histories, searching only
for a single item, one clue to the swift evolution from barbarism to
peaceful co-operation. After an hour he was in the middle of that
critical period when the Council despaired of its inability to cope with
the Markovian menace.
But the stories of commerce and invention and far-flung exchange with
other peoples continued. Nowhere was there any reference to the violence
of the period. They went back two hundred--five hundred years--beyond
the time when Council members first made contact with the Nucleus.
There was nothing.
Cameron sat back in complete puzzlement as it became apparent that it
was useless to go back further. "The normal thing would be for them to
brag all over the place about their great conquests. Even races who
become comparatively civilized citizens ordinarily let themselves go
when it comes to history. If they've had a long record of conquest and
bloodshed, they say so with plenty of chest pounding. Of course, it's
padded out to reflect their righteous conquest over tyranny, but it's
always there in _some_ form.
"But nothing up to now has been normal about the development of the
Markovian problem and this really tops it off--the complete omission of
any reference to their armed conquests."
"Maybe this planet didn't participate very much. Perhaps only a small
number of the Nucleus worlds were responsible for it," said Joyce.
Cameron shook his head. "No. The Council records show that the Nucleus
as a unit was responsible, and that virtually all the worlds are
specifically mentioned. And even if this one had been out of it
completely you could still expect references to it because there was
constant interchange with most of the other planets. We can try another
one, though--"
They tried one more, then a half dozen in quick scanning. They swept
through a summarization of the Nucleus as a whole during that critical
period.
There was nothing to show that the Markovians had ever been anything but
peace-loving citizens intent on pursuit of science, commerce, and the
arts.
"This could have been rigged for our special benefit," said Joyce
thoughtfully as they ended the day's futile search. "They didn't want to
apply enough pressure to keep us from coming, but they did want to make
sure we wouldn't find out anything about their past."
Cameron shook his head slowly. "It couldn't have been done in the time
they've had. Simply cutting out what they didn't want to show us
wouldn't have done it. There's too much cross reference to all periods
involved. It's a complete phony, but it's not something done on the spur
of the moment just for our benefit. It's too good for that."
"Maybe they've had it for a _long_ time--just in case somebody like us
should come along."
"It's possible, but I don't think that's right either," said Cameron. "I
can't give you any reason for thinking so--except the phoniness goes
deeper than merely deceiving an investigator. Somehow I have the feeling
that the Markovians are even deceiving themselves!"
* * * * *
They left the building and took the car back to the house of Marthasa
without seeing Zlenon again. Their Markovian host was waiting. Cameron
thought he sensed a trace of tension in Marthasa that wasn't there
before as he led them to seats in the garden.
"We don't like to boast about the Nucleus," he said with his customary
volubility, "but we have to admit we are proud of our science and
technology. Few civilizations in the Universe can match it. That's not
to disparage the fine accomplishments of the Terrans, you understand,
but it's only _natural_ that out here on these older worlds--"
They listened half attentively, trying in their imaginations to pierce
the armor he used to defend so frantically the thing the Markovians did
not want the outer worlds to know anything about.
The talk went on during mealtime. Marthasa's wife caught the spirit of
it and they both regaled the Terrans with accounts of the grandeur of
Markovian exploits. Cameron grew more and more depressed by it, and as
they retired to their rooms early he began to realize how absolutely
complete was the impasse into which they had been driven.
"They've let us in," he said to Joyce. "They've shown us the history
they've written of themselves. There's no way in the Universe we can
stand up and boldly challenge that history and call them the liars we
know they are."
"But they must know of the histories written on other Council worlds
about their doings," said Joyce. "Maybe we could reach a point where we
could at least ask about them. Ask how it is that other histories show
that a hundred and twenty years ago a fleet of Markovian ships swept
unexpectedly out of space and looted and decimated the planet Lakcaine
VI. Ask why the Markovian history says only that the Nucleus concluded
six new commercial treaties to the benefit of all worlds concerned in
that period, without any mention of Lakcaine VI."
"When you start asking questions like that you've got to be ready to
run. And if it fizzles out you've lost all chance of coming back for a
second try. That could fizzle out because they simply deny the validity
of all history outside their own."
"Then we might as well pack and go home if you're not going to challenge
any of this stuff they hand out. We won't find the answer by standing
around and taking _their_ word on everything."
"I forgot to tell you one thing," Cameron said slowly. "We may not have
to take their word for it. Someone else here knows the truth of the
situation, also."
"Who?"
"The Ids." He told her then of the warning Sal Karone had given him
aboard the ship on the way to the Nucleus, the statement that "My
Masters are a people who cannot yet be understood by the men of other
worlds."
"The Ids know what the Markovians are and what they are trying to hide.
I had almost overlooked that simple fact."
"But you can't go out and challenge them to tell the truth any more than
you can the Markovians!" Joyce protested. "Because Sal Karone went out
of his way to warn you doesn't mean he's going to get real buddy-buddy
and tell you everything you want to know."
"No, of course not. But there's one little difference between him and
the Markovians. He has admitted openly that he knows why we're here.
None of the Markovians have done that yet. We don't have to challenge
him because there already exists the tacit understanding that something
is decidedly phony.
"And besides, he invited us to come and visit the Id communities outside
the city. I think that's an invitation we should accept just as soon as
possible."