"It can. At an average expense around fifty times higher than it would
take to make an ordinary reproduction without it. A duplicator's no use
unless you want a reproduction that's absolutely indistinguishable from
the model."
"I see." Phil was silent a moment. "After sixty years--"
"Don't worry, Phil," Jackson said. "It's in perfect working condition.
We checked that on a number of samples."
"How do you know the copies were really indistinguishable?"
Celia said impatiently, "Because that's the way the thing works. When
the Geest gun passed through the model plate, it was analyzed down to
its last little molecule. The duplicate is now being built up from that
analysis. Every fraction of every element used in the original will show
up again exactly. Why do you think the stuff's so expensive?"
* * *
Phil grinned. "All right, I'm convinced. How do we get rid of the
inscription?"
"The gadget will handle that," Jackson said. "Crack that edge off, treat
the cracked surface to match the wear of the rest." He smiled. "Makes an
Earth forger's life look easy, doesn't it?"
"It is till they hook you," Celia said shortly. She finished her drink,
set it on the table, added, "We've a few questions, too, Phil."
"The original gun," Jackson said. "Mind you, there's no slightest reason
to expect an investigation. But after this starts rolling, our necks
will be out just a little until we've got rid of that particular bit of
incriminating evidence."
Phil pursed his lips. "I wouldn't worry about it. Nobody but Beulah ever
looks at Uncle William's collection of oddities. Most of it's complete
trash. And probably only she and you and I know there's a Geest gun
among the things--William's cronies all passed away before he did. But
if the gun disappeared now, Beulah would miss it. And that--since Earth
government's made it illegal to possess Geest artifacts--_might_ create
attention."
Jackson fingered his chin thoughtfully, said, "Of course, there's
always a way to make sure Beulah didn't kick up a fuss."
Phil hesitated. "Dr. Fitzsimmons gives Beulah another three months at
the most," he said. "If she can stay out of the hospital for even the
next eight weeks, he'll consider it some kind of miracle. That should be
early enough to take care of the gun."
"It should be," Jackson said. "However, if there does happen to be an
investigation before that time--"
Phil looked at him, said evenly, "We'd do whatever was necessary. It
wouldn't be very agreeable, but my neck's out just as far as yours."
Celia laughed. "That's the reason we can all feel pretty safe," she
observed. "Every last one of us is completely selfish--and there's no
more dependable kind of person than that."
Jackson flushed a little, glanced at Phil, smiled. Phil shrugged. Major
Wayne Jackson, native son, Fort Roye's second in command, was scheduled
for the number one spot and a string of promotions via the transfer of
the current commander, Colonel Thayer. Their Earthside associates would
arrange for that as soon as the decision to turn Fort Roye into a Class
A military base was reached. Phil himself could get by with the
guaranteed retention of the CLU presidency, and a membership moving up
year by year to the half million mark and beyond--he could get by very,
very comfortably, in fact. While Celia Adams would develop a discreetly
firm hold on every upcoming minor racket, facilitated by iron-clad
protection and an enforced lack of all competitors.
"We're all thinking of Roye's future, Celia," Phil said amiably, "each
in his own way. And the future looks pretty bright. In fact, the only
possible stumbling block I can still see is right here on Roye, and it's
Honest Silas Thayer. If our colonel covers up the Geest gun find
tomorrow--"
Jackson grinned, shook his head. "Leave that to me, my boy--and to our
very distinguished visitors from Earth. Commissioner Sanford has
arranged to be in Thayer's company on Territorial Office business all
day tomorrow. Science Officer Vaughn is dizzy with delight because
Ronald Black and most of the newsgathering troop will inspect his
diggings in the ruins in the morning, with the promise of giving his
theories about the vanished natives of Roye a nice spread on Earth.
Black will happen to ask me to accompany the party. Between Black and
Sanford--and myself--Colonel Silas Thayer won't have a chance to
suppress the discovery of a Geest gun on Roye until the military has had
a chance to look into it fully. And the only one he can possibly blame
for that will be Science Officer Norm Vaughn--for whom, I'll admit, I
feel just a little bit sorry!"
* * * * *
First Lieutenant Norman Vaughn was an intense and frustrated young man
whose unusually thick contact lenses and wide mouth gave him some
resemblance to a melancholy frog. He suspected, correctly, that a good
Science Officer would not have been transferred from Earth to Roye which
was a planet deficient in scientific problems of any magnitude, and
where requisitions for research purposes were infrequently and
grudgingly granted.
The great spiraled ruin on the peninsula of Fort Roye had been Vaughn's
one solace. Several similar deserted structures were known to be on the
planet, but this was by far in the best condition and no doubt the most
recently built. To him, if to no one else, it became clear that the
construction had been carried out with conscious plan and purpose, and
he gradually amassed great piles of notes to back up his theory that the
vanished builders were of near-human intelligence. Unfortunately, their
bodies appeared to have lacked hard and durable parts, since nothing
that could be construed as their remains was found; and what Lieutenant
Vaughn regarded as undeniable artifacts, on the level of very early
Man's work, looked to others like chance shards and lumps of the tough,
shell-like material of which the ruins were composed.
Therefore, while Vaughn was--as Jackson had pointed out--really dizzy
with delight when Ronald Black, that giant of Earth's news media, first
indicated an interest in the ruins and his theories about them, this
feeling soon became mixed with acute anxiety. For such a chance surely
would not come again if the visitors remained unconvinced by what he
showed them, and what--actually--did he have to show? In the morning,
when the party set out, Vaughn was in a noticeably nervous frame of
mind.
Two hours later, he burst into the anteroom of the base commander's
office in Fort Roye, where the warrant on duty almost failed to
recognize him. Lieutenant Vaughn's eyes glittered through their thick
lenses; his face was red and he was grinning from ear to ear. He pounded
past the startled warrant, pulled open the door to the inner office
where Colonel Thayer sat with the visiting Territorial Commissioner, and
plunged inside.
"Sir," the warrant heard him quaver breathlessly, "I have the proof--the
undeniable proof! They _were_ intelligent beings. They did _not_ die of
disease. They were exterminated in war! They were ... but see for
yourself!" There was a thud as he dropped something on the polished
table top between the commissioner and Colonel Thayer. "_That_ was dug
up just now--among their own artifacts!"
Silas Thayer was on his feet, sucking in his breath for the blast that
would hurl his blundering Science Officer back out of the office. What
halted him was an odd, choked exclamation from Commissioner Sanford. The
colonel's gaze flicked over to the visitor, then followed Sanford's
stare to the object on the table.
For an instant, Colonel Thayer froze.