City at World's End - Edmond Hamilton (best classic books to read .TXT) 📗
- Author: Edmond Hamilton
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He paused. “Unfortunately, when Arnol tested his process on a small asteroid, the results were disastrous.”
“Disastrous?”
“Quite disastrous. Arnold’s energy bomb, designed to start the cycle inside that asteroid, went wrong and caused terrible quakes. In fact, the asteroid was wrecked. Arnol claims that it was because he was not allowed a large enough planet for his test. His equations bear him out.”
Kenniston said, “Why didn’t he make another test on a bigger planet, then?”
“The Governors would not allow it,” said Lal’lor, “They said it was too dangerous.”
“But couldn’t he have tested it on an uninhabited planet without danger?”
Lal’lor sighed. “You don’t understand, Kenniston. The Governors don’t want Arnol’s process to succeed. They don’t want to make it possible for primitive peoples to cling to their native worlds. That’s the kind of provincial patriotism they oppose, in their efforts to establish a truly cosmopolitan star-community.”
Kenniston thought about that. It fitted what he had seen and heard of this vast Federation of Stars. And yet…
He said, slowly, “It comes down to the fact that you want to use my world, our Earth, to test a scheme which your Governors, whatever their motives, have already ruled as dangerous.”
Lal’lor nodded calmly. “Yes. It comes down to that. But whether the test is made first on Earth or some abandoned planet is beside the point. The point is to force the Board of Governors to allow another test.”
Gorr Holl exclaimed, “Don’t you see how it links up? Alone, your plea to remain on Earth will be turned down because you can’t present any alternative to evacuation. But by advancing Jon Arnol’s planet-reviving process as an alternative, you might be able to help both Earth and us!”
Kenniston struggled to comprehend the galactic complexity of the problem. “In other words, if we could persuade the Governors to give Arnol another chance, they would delay the evacuation of Earth?”
“They would,” said Lal’lor. “And if Arnol succeeded, Earth and our similar worlds throughout the Federation could be made warm and livable again. Is it not worth trying for?”
“When you put it like that,” said Kenniston, “yes. Yes, it is.” He was beginning to be hopeful again. “And you think this— this solar-furnace thing might succeed? Safely, I mean?”
“According to all mathematical evidence, yes.” Still Kenniston hesitated, and Gorr Holl said, “The decision would be up to your people, Kenniston, and not you— whether they’d take the risk, I mean. And remember, it’s a small population and could be taken off quite easily until any danger was over.”
That was true. He need not be afraid of committing his people too deeply, because he had not the power to do that. And it might be a way.
“Is it agreed, then?” asked Lal’lor. “Arnol has been my friend for many years, and I can message ahead to him to be there when we land. He can help you prepare your plea.”
Kenniston looked at them, the three familiar, unhuman faces. He had to trust them, to take what they said on trust. Suddenly, he knew he did trust them.
“All right,” said Kenniston. “I guess any hope is better than none.”
“Then we are agreed,” said Lal’lor quietly.
Kenniston felt a little breathless, as though he had taken an irrevocable plunge into deeps far beyond his own fathoming. Gorr Holl shot a keen glance at him, and said, “You need something. And I think I know what it is.”
He went out, and returned in a moment with a large flat flask of gray metal. He showed his great teeth in that frightening grin. “Fortunately, not being ship’s personnel, we of the technical staff are not forbidden stimulants. Get some cups, Magro.”
The white-furred Spican brought only three of the plastic cups. “Our wise Lal’lor prefers to stimulate himself with equations,” he explained, and the grey one nodded.
Gorr Holl carefully poured a clear liquid from the flask. “Try this, Kenniston.”
The liquid had a musty, mushroomy taste. Then it seemed to explode inside Kenniston, sending waves of heat to his fingertips. When he could breathe again, he gasped, “What is the stuff?”
Gorr Holl said, “It’s distilled from fungus growths found on the worlds of Capella. Smooth, eh?”
Kenniston, as he drank again, felt his worries recede a little. He sat relaxed and listening as these children of alien worlds talked. He knew they were talking now just to let down his tension.
“First voyages can be tough.” Magro was saying. He was curled up on the bunk like a sleepy cat, with a distant, lazy gleam in his eyes. “I remember my own. We shot the Pleiades with half our power burned out, and the little worlds swarming around us like angry bees.”
Gorr Holl nodded. “Do you remember that wreck in the Algol stardrift? I lost good friends then. A cold grave, those empty deeps.”
Kenniston listened as they talked on, of old voyages beyond the Federation’s starry frontiers, of dangers from nebula and comet and cosmic cloud, of shipwreck on wild worlds.
He quoted slowly,“Then shall we list to no shallow gossip of Magellans and Drakes. Then shall we give ear to voyagers who have circumnavigated the Ecliptic; who have rounded the Polar Star as Cape Horn”
Lal’lor asked interestedly, “Who wrote that? Some man of your own time who foresaw space travel?”
“No,” said Kenniston. “A man of a century before even my time. His name was Melville, and he was a sailor too, but on Earth’s seas.”
Gorr Holl shook his head. “Queer days they must have been, with only the water oceans of one little planet to venture on.”
“Yet there was adventure enough in that,” Kenniston said. “The Atlantic in a fall storm, the Gulf on a moonlight night…” An aching nostalgia took him again, that haunting homesickness for an Earth lost forever, for the smell of leaves burning on crisp fall nights, for a clover field under the summer Sun, for the blue skies and green hills, the snowy mountains and the sleepy villages and the old cities and the roads that went between them, for all that was gone and could never be again. It made him long even for the Earth that still was, the tired, dying old planet that at least held memory of the world he had known, the people there who had known that world too. Carol was right, the old ways and the old things were best! What was he doing out here in these alien immensities?
Then he saw that the others were looking at him with a queerly sympathetic understanding in their faces, those strange and yet familiar and friendly humanoid faces.
“Give me another drink,” he said.
It did not help any. It only seemed to heighten his futile yearning. Presently Kenniston left them, and went to his own cabin.
He switched off the cabin lights and pressed the stud that made a window of the solid hull. The black, star-shot gulf opened to infinity beyond. He sat on the edge of the bunk and stared, hating that uncaring, unhuman vastness, brooding upon his desperate mission.
Presently he realized that someone was knocking at his door. He rose and opened it, and the light in the corridor showed him that it was Varn Allan.
She glanced quickly from his face to the darkened room, and then back at him, with a look of understanding. She asked, “May I come in?”
He stepped aside, reaching for the switch, and she said, “No, don’t. I like to look out, too.”
She took the chair by the window and sat for a few moments in silence, looking out, the dim starglow touching her face.
Kenniston, his immediate feeling of hostility tempered a little by puzzlement, waited for her to speak. She sat almost stiffly, a queerly prim little figure in the drab jacket and slacks, but he thought that there were lines of tiredness and strain in her clear face now.
She turned and looked at him with thoughtful blue eyes, and it came to him that Varn Allan felt ill at ease with him, that she wanted to say something that she did not quite know how to say. So she, too, was worried about this business at Vega? He thought savagely that that was fine, that it cut her down from a high-and-mighty official of the great Federation into an anxious woman, almost a girl.
She said, “I came to tell you— owing to the pressing nature of this case, the Board of Governors has granted us two hours on the day after we arrive at Vega Four.”
“Two hours!” exclaimed Kenniston. It did not seem much time in which to decide the fate of a world.
“The Governors have the problems of half a galaxy to decide. They cannot give more time than that to anyone. So perpare your case carefully. There is never a second hearing.”
He thought that she had not come only to say that, and he waited, forcing her to speak. He realized now that her tension and weariness equaled his own.
Finally, reluctantly, Varn Allan said, “As Sub-Administrator of the sector, Norden Lund will have the right to speak on this problem to the Governors.”
Kenniston hadn’t known that, but it made no difference to him and he said so.
“It may make a very great difference indeed to you and your people,” she warned him.
“In what way?”
She told him, “Lund is ambitious. He wants to be an Administrator, and later, a Governor— perhaps even Chairman. His aspirations are unbounded.”
Now, Kenniston began to understand a little. “In other words, as Gorr Holl said, Lund is after your job.”
“Yes. It would be a step up for him. And to make that step, he would quite cheerfully commit an injustice. Of that I am sure.” Varn Allan leaned forward. “He sees in the problem of Earth an unparalleled opportunity to advance himself. Your unheard-of irruption into this time from the past has created tremendous interest in you. And many worlds will be watching this coming hearing.”
In her earnestness, she had risen and was standing in front of him, speaking carefully, choosing her words to make him understand.
“If Lund can dominate this hearing, if he can offer some sensational proof that I have blundered in handling the Earth problem and that he has been right, he will have distinguished himself before the eyes of everyone.”
Kenniston was sure now that he completely understood, but he did not let his feelings show in his face or voice as he asked, “Then you’re afraid that Lund is going to spring some surprise at this hearing?”
Varn Allan nodded earnestly. “Yes— I know that he has something in mind. He has been smugly triumphant with me, ever since we took off. But what it is, I do not know.” She looked at Kenniston worriedly, and asked, “Do you know? Is there something about your people, about this Earth problem, that Lund could use at the hearing?”
Kenniston got to his feet. He looked down into her face, and then he began to laugh. Softly, at first, and then more loudly— a bitter, angry laughter that vented all the resentment he had felt from the first. She looked up at him, startled and uncomprehending.
“This,” he said, “is very rich indeed. This is really comic. You come to Earth as the law of the Federation, as Miss High-and-Mighty, and look at us as though we were a bunch of sheep, and order us this and order us that, and can hardly bear even to talk to the poor fuzzy-witted primitives. And then, all of a sudden, when
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