found he was in what must have been a one-man scout. He was dead and his
craft was blasted and torn—obviously from some sort of weapons’ fire. His
scout was obviously a military craft, highly equipped with what could only
be weapons, most of them so damaged our engineers haven’t been able to
figure them out. To the extent they have been able to reconstruct them,
they’re scared silly. No, there’s no two ways about it, our little rabbit
sized intelligence down in the vault was killed in an interplanetary
conflict. And sooner or later, Ronny, man in his explosion into the stars
is going to run into either or both of the opponents in that conflict.”
Ronny Bronston slumped back into his chair, his brain running out a dozen
leads at once.
Metaxa and Jakes remained quiet, looking at him speculatively.
Ronny said slowly, “Then the purpose of Section G is to push the member
planets of UP along the fastest path of progress, to get them ready for
the eventual, inevitable meeting.”
“Not just Section G,” Metaxa growled, “but all of the United Planets
organization, although most of the rank and file don’t even know our basic
purpose. Section G? We do the dirty work, and are proud to do it, by every
method we can devise.”
Ronny leaned forward. “But look,” he said. “Why not simply inform all
member planets of this common danger? They’d all unite in the effort to
meet the common potential foe. Anything standing in the way would be
brushed aside.”
Metaxa shook his head wearily. “Would they? Is a common danger enough for
man to change his institutions, particularly those pertaining to property,
power and religion? History doesn’t show it. Delve back into early times
and you’ll recall, for an example, that in man’s early discovery of
nuclear weapons he almost destroyed himself. Three or four different
socio-economic systems co-existed at that time and all would have
preferred destruction rather than changes in their social forms.”
Jakes said, in an unwonted quiet tone, “No, until someone comes up with a
better answer it looks as though Section G is going to have to continue
the job of advancing man’s institutions, in spite of himself.”
The commissioner made it clearer. “It’s not as though we deal with all our
member planets. It isn’t necessary. But you see, Ronny, the best colonists
are usually made up of the, well, crackpot element. Those who are
satisfied, stay at home. America, for instance, was settled by the
adventurers, the malcontents, the non-conformists, the religious cultists,
and even fugitives and criminals of Europe. So it is in the stars. A group
of colonists go out with their dreams, their schemes, their far-out ideas.
In a few centuries they’ve populated their new planet, and often do very
well indeed. But often not and a nudge, a push, from Section G can start
them up another rung or so of the ladder of social evolution. Most of them
don’t want the push. Few cultures, if any, realize they are mortal; like
Hitler’s Reich, they expect to last at least a thousand years. They resist
any change—even change for the better.”
-------------------------------------
Ronny’s defenses were crumbling, but he threw one last punch. “How do you
know the changes you make are for the better?”
Metaxa shrugged heavy shoulders. “It’s sometimes difficult to decide, but
we aim for changes that will mean an increased scientific progress, a more
advanced industrial technology, more and better education, the opening of
opportunity for every member of the culture to exert himself to the full
of his abilities. The last is particularly important. Too many cultures,
even those that think of themselves as particularly advanced, suppress the
individual by one means or another.”
Ronny was still mentally reeling with the magnitude of it all. “But how
can you account for the fact that these alien intelligences haven’t
already come in contact with us?”
Metaxa shrugged again. “The Solar System, our sun, is way out in a
sparsely populated spiral arm of our galaxy. Undoubtedly, these others are
further in toward the center. We have no way of knowing how far away they
are, or how many sun systems they dominate, or even how many other empires
of intelligent life forms there are. All we know is that there are other
intelligences in the galaxy, that they are near enough like us to live on
the same type planets. The more opportunity man has to develop before the
initial contact takes place, the stronger bargaining position, or military
position, as the case may be, he’ll be in.”
Sid Jakes summed up the Tommy Paine business for Ronny’s sake. “We need
capable agents badly, but we need dedicated and efficient ones. We can’t
afford anything less. So when we come upon potential Section G operatives
we send them out with a trusted Tog to get a picture of these United
Planets of ours. It’s the quickest method of indoctrination we’ve hit
upon; the agent literally teaches himself by observation and
participation. Usually, it takes four or five stops, on this planet and
that, before the probationary agent begins sympathizing with the efforts
of this elusive Tommy Paine. Especially since every Section G agent he
runs into, including the Tog, of course, fills him full of stories of
Tommy Paine’s activities.
“You were one of the quickest to stumble on the true nature of our Section
G. After calling at only three planets you saw that we ourselves are Tommy
Paine.”
“But ... but what’s the end?” Ronny said plaintively. “You say our job is
advancing man, even in spite of himself when it comes to that. We start at
the bottom of the evolutionary ladder in a condition of savagery, clan
communism in government, simple animism in religion, and slowly we
progress through barbarism to civilization, through paganism to the higher
ethical codes, through chattel slavery and then feudalism and beyond. What
is the final end, the Ultima Thule?”
Metaxa was shaking his head again. He poured himself another drink,
offered the bottle this time to the others. “We don’t know,” he said
wearily, “perhaps there is none. Perhaps there is always another rung on
this evolutionary ladder.” He punched at his order box and said, “Irene,
have them do up a silver badge for Ronny.”
Ronny Bronston took a deep breath and reached for the brown bottle.
“Well,” he said. “I suppose I’m ready to ask for my first assignment.” He
thought for a moment. “By the way, if there’s any way to swing it, I
wouldn’t mind working with Supervisor Lee Chang Chu.”
THE END