As soon as the professor had gone his fear vanished. What he had said
to Dr. Kramer gave away no secrets and, in any case, he was crediting
the professor with a perception he did not have. Ever since first
joining the Movement, when he was still in school, Dirrul had taken
such pains to conceal his motives that it would have required a good
deal more than Dr. Kramer's clumsy prying to reveal them.
He had deliberately patterned his attitudes and habits upon a
composite average, even to a mild and starry-eyed criticism of the
system which was more or less expected from the ambitious young men of
the Air-command.
Dr. Kramer's ecstatic praise of the system was the typical emotional
reaction of the older generation. The professor may actually have been
convinced of the truth of his own fuzzy propaganda. It was that sort
of blind faith which still held the Planetary Union together.
Before returning to the Air-Command base at noon, Dirrul sought out
Paul Sorgel and reported that Glenna and Hurd were safely on their way
to Vinin. Apologetically, he mentioned Dr. Kramer's invitation,
expecting to elicit Sorgel's scorn. Instead the Vininese agent was
enthusiastic.
"Wonderful, Eddie!" he said. "Engineer it so they'll ask you back.
We've never got one of our people in with the older science crowd
before. Feel them out--we might pick up some converts. I won't need
you at the next few meetings of the Movement--they'll be largely
reorganizational, you know. I've been reading over Glenna's notes on
the Plan. With one or two modifications we should be able to carry it
out."
At eight-thirty that evening Dirrul was admitted to Dr. Kramer's
apartment. He was neither overwhelmed by the professor's excessive
courtesy nor impressed by the other guests. They were from the faculty
of the Advanced Air University, elderly, respected and distinguished,
names known for a generation everywhere in the Planetary Union.
To them, Edward Dirrul was merely a curiosity, a live specimen mounted
for analysis. He had criticised their system. They intended to wring
out the strands of his motivation, classify them, speculate and
theorize upon them--and perhaps, ultimately, do the whole thing up as
a monograph.
Dirrul knew why Kramer had selected him for study rather than any of
the current crop of university students who held similar views. A
product of the educational philosophy of the Planetary Union, Dirrul
was thoroughly adjusted and decidedly aware of both his own abilities
and shortcomings.
He was, first of all, gifted in the use of abstractions and
generalities. In rare combination with this flair he had superior
mechanical intelligence and a talent for expressive verbalization. He
dealt easily in the subtle skills of logic. If he set his mind to it,
he could erect absolute proofs of diametrically opposed truths and few
minds could detect the delicately concealed flaws in the reasoning.
On the negative side of the scale was Dirrul's complete lack of
psycho-biological intelligence, or a sense of scientific semantics.
Neither to him seemed important. He missed them not at all and
resented the legal requirements that forced him to take Dr. Kramer's
course before he could qualify as a space-pilot.
The papers he had written for the professor were beautifully
constructed patterns of logic, cast in well-turned phrases. They had
clarified the criticism which others put inarticulately. It was the
precision of his argument that disturbed Dr. Kramer and his faculty
friends.
Dirrul was amused as the distinguished scientists skillfully
manipulated the conversation to create counter-arguments opposing his.
It was a game played in abstractions, a technique of which Dirrul was
an instinctive master. Apparently the scientists found some sort of
excitement in the game, since on succeeding evenings Dirrul was
swamped with invitations from other faculty members--so many, in fact,
that he had to neglect the serious work of the Movement. When he
complained to Paul Sorgel, the Vininese agent was delighted.
"We can get along without you for awhile, Eddie," Sorgel said. "You're
doing something much more important. You have a real in with the
science crowd, and you've got them on the run because your arguments
make sense. Every doubt you sow in their minds now will make our work
just that much easier when the proper time comes."
Occasionally Dirrul had an uneasy feeling that he was making no real
progress at all, that when he talked to the scientists he was a
dancing puppet dangling on invisible strings. It seemed impossible
that the scientists of the Ad-Air University could be so repeatedly
defeated by his logic. Slowly, however, he reasoned his way to an
explanation.
The scientists, like the system itself, were in the last wild frenzy
of a decaying social order. They had lived so long in the atmosphere
of relative truths, they had so carefully schooled themselves to avoid
all absolutes, that they were unable to elude the simplest processes
of logic. Their very efforts to be objective made them too honest to
reject a conclusion once Dirrul had demonstrated the careful structure
that seemed to support it.
* * * * *
A month passed. Dirrul felt divorced from the Movement, existing in
suspended animation in a cloud of wordy unreality. Then abruptly the
slow-moving dream ended. Late one night Paul Sorgel slipped into
Dirrul's apartment and announced in an emotionless whisper, "The
Plan's ready. You'll have to carry the details to Vinin. We can't use
the teleray--the Union monitors might pick up the message and decode
it."
"Naturally our Vininese Headquarters will want to know, Paul," said
Eddie, "but can't that wait? We'll need every man here when we--"
Sorgel interrupted him. "I've made one or two changes in Glenna's
original plan. It was too impractical. A handful of men can't take
over half a galaxy."
"Glenna and Hurd weren't after the entire Planetary Union,
Paul--that's out of the question. We meant to liberate Agron first.
The capital is here and for awhile the government would be disrupted.
When the people on the other planets saw how much better our social
organization had become, modeled on the Vininese system, they would
stage their own revolutions just like ourselves."
Sorgel laughed scornfully. "And in the meantime, of course, none of
them would think of attacking you and throwing your people out?"
"Not if we seized the Nuclear Beam Transmitters," said Dirrul, "no
space-fleet could come near us then."
"Eddie, you've lived in Agron too long. You're not thinking straight
when you try to build the Plan around a single weapon."
"Why not, Paul? It's a perfect defense. In less than thirty seconds
the Beam Transmitters can charge the entire stratospheric envelope of
Agron. Nothing can move through it without disintegrating, yet life on
the surface of the planet would go on quite normally because the
atmosphere serves as an insulation."
"Technically it's a change in the form of energy, not a
disintegration," Sorgel reminded him. "The beamed electrons unite with
the atoms of visible material substances and alter them. I quite
understand the process, Eddie--Vinin has the Beam too, you know."
"Because the Agronian scientists gave you the specifications!"
"That always has rankled, hasn't it?" said Sorgel.
"Yes," Dirrul admitted. "If the Vininese scientists had discovered the
Beam-reaction first they would have conquered the galaxy."
"Conquer is a nasty word, Eddie," Sorgel said softly. "Vinin makes no
conquests. Let's put it differently and say we would have used the
Beam to bring peace to the galaxy instead of splitting it in two as it
is now."
"Glenna's Plan can change all that, at least here on Agron."
"Face the facts, Eddie! A few conscientious people with ideals can't
take over a planet. The Movement has its crews trained to capture the
Beam Transmitters. You'll isolate Agron and seize the government
offices simultaneously. What happens then?"
"Our people will rise and join us," said Eddie. "We'll create a new
government modeled on Vinin's and we'll have young leaders instead of
murky thinkers like Dr. Kramer."
"That's effective propaganda for speechmaking, but--"
"Glenna pounded away at it too, Paul," said Eddie. "It was the most
telling line in winning our new crop of recruits."
"Which is precisely why the police disposed of her. But it won't work.
The people won't rise. A mob is lethargic, too willing to keep things
as they are. Here on Agron you've been coddled too long with luxuries
and easy living. You have to prod the mob awake with a shock-force, a
force coming from the outside."
"How, Paul? We haven't enough people in the Movement to put on any
real show of strength. We can't even get outside."
"Now you understand the changes I've made in Glenna's Plan. You people
in the Movement will seize the Beam Transmitters as originally
planned. Then you'll simply hold them and keep them decommissioned
long enough for a Vininese space-fleet to land. We'll set up your new
government for you."
"And the rest of the Planetary Union will go to war!"
"It hardly matters," said Paul. "Once we're here the Beams will
protect us against counterattack and every planet in the Vininese
Confederacy has the same defense. One by one we can liberate the
planets of the Union in the same way. But the timing is vital, of
course--that's why you have to go to Vinin."
"I had a vacation leave only three months ago. I can't get tourist
passage now without--"
"I've considered that. You'll have to have your own space-ship."
"Now wait a minute, Paul! It's one thing to borrow a surface jet but a
space-cruiser...!"
"A cruiser, yes--not an old cargo ship. And you can handle that
without a crew."
"It can't be done, Paul." Dirrul held his Glo-Wave nervously to the
end of a cigarette. "Besides, I want to think this through carefully
before I make up my mind."
"A merchant ship made a crash landing at Barney's emergency field
yesterday," said Paul. "The damage was slight, but the pilot--unfortunately
the pilot is dead." Sorgel smiled enigmatically. "Barney's one of our best
men. He's been on the lookout for a chance like this for weeks.
"You'll leave tonight. Avoid the regular space lanes. I'm guessing
you'll be on Vinin in a hundred days at the outside. On the fiftieth
day after that--exactly one hundred and fifty days from now--our
Vininese space-fleet must make a landing on Agron."
"I'll be missed, Paul--they'll make inquiries."
"And get no satisfactory answers."
Pacing the floor, Dirrul asked tensely, "Does everyone in the Movement
know about this?"
"The vote was made unanimously yesterday."
"One of the others must have a vacation leave coming up. Send him.
We're not at war with Vinin. He could take one of the regular space
excursions."
"I can't send a message in writing. It would be picked up by the
customs police. And you're the only one who can carry it verbally,
Eddie. You know the whole background because you worked with Glenna
and Hurd. You've been in the Movement longer than any of the others."
"Why not go yourself, Paul?"
"I can do more for the liberation if I stay here."
"I wish I'd been at the meeting yesterday when the vote was taken. I'd
have liked to discuss it with the others before--"
"Why so many questions, Eddie? Why so many doubts all of a sudden?"
Sorgel stood and faced Dirrul, holding his shoulders in a grip that
hurt. "Are you trying to back out? Maybe it wasn't a good thing to let
you play around with the science boys after all. Be honest with me,
Eddie. If you're not sure where you stand, say so. There's no room in
the Movement for traitors."
When Dirrul said nothing Sorgel added in a voice that rang with
fervor, "You're the only man in the Movement who has had any training
as a space-pilot. It depends on you now--everything you've ever
dreamed of, everything Glenna and Hurd wanted. Can you forget what the
Agronian police did to Glenna? Is your courage any less than hers?"
Again Sorgel paused but still Dirrul said nothing. "The future of your
world depends on you, Eddie--don't let it down."
"I'll go," Dirrul whispered.
As Eddie made up his mind his internal tension relaxed and he was
filled with a sense of well-being. When he thought about it he
couldn't understand why he had hesitated--unless perhaps what Sorgel
suggested was true--that his contact with the Ad-Air faculty had
blunted and nearly perverted his established sense of values.
An hour later Dirrul boarded the battered antiquated space cargo
carrier on the launching rack at Barney's emergency field. At the last
minute Sorgel pressed a curious disk into his hand. Made of a very
light metal and suspended from a short chain it was two inches in
diameter and covered with a complex grid design.
"Put it around your neck before you land, Eddie. Don't remove under
any circumstances until you report. Give it to the Chief then. He'll
know I sent you because it's my own identification activator." Sorgel
clasped Dirrul's hand warmly. "When you land on Vinin take the North
Field below the capital. It's the HQ operational center. Use Wave-code
three-seven-three and they'll know you're friendly."