Talents, Incorporated Page 5

  Chapter 5

  Nobody had ever found any use for the Glamis solar system. There was asun of highly irregular variability. There were two planets, of whichthe one farther out might have been useful for colonization except thatit was subject to extreme changes of climate as its undependable sunburned brightly or dimly. The nearer planet was so close to its primarythat it had long ceased to rotate. One hemisphere, forever in sunshine,remained in a low, red heat. Its night hemisphere, in perpetualdarkness, had radiated away its heat until there were mountains offrozen atmosphere piled above what should have been a mineral surface.It was a matter of record that a hundred standard years before, a shiphad landed there and mined oxygen-containing snow, which its airapparatus was able to refine so the crew could breathe while theyfinished some rather improbable repairs and could go on to morehospitable worlds.

  The farther-out planet was sometimes a place of green vegetation andsprawling seas, and sometimes of humid jungles with most of its oceansturned to a cloud-bank of impenetrable thickness. Also, sometimes, itwas frozen waste from pole to pole. The vegetation of that planet hadbeen studied with interest, but the world itself was simply of no use toanybody. Even the sun of the Glamis system was regarded with suspicion.

  The fleet of Kandar made rendezvous at the galactic-north pole of thesecond planet. On arrival the massed cruisers and battleships went intoorbit. The smaller craft went on a scouting mission, verifying thatthere was no new colony planted, that there was no man-made radiationanywhere in the system, that there was no likelihood of the fleet'spresence--or for that matter its continued existence--becoming known toanybody not of its ship-crews.

  The scout-ships came back, reporting all clear. The great ships drewclose to one another and small space-boats shuttled back and forth,taking commanders and captains and vice-admirals to the ship, which, byconvention, was commanded by King Humphrey VIII of Kandar.

  Captain Bors got to the conference late. There were some grave facesabout the conference room, but there were also some whose expressionswere unregenerate and grimly satisfied. As he entered the room the kingwas speaking.

  "I don't deny that it was a splendid victory, but I'm saying that ourvictory was a catastrophe! To begin with, we happened to hit theMekinese fleet when it was dispersed and disorganized. That was greatgood fortune--_if_ we'd wanted a victory. The enemy was scattered overlight-minutes of space. His ships could not act as a massed,maneuverable force. They were simply a mob of fighting ships who had tofight as individuals against our combat formation."

  "Yes, Majesty," said the gray vice-admiral, "but even when we brokeformation--"

  "Again," said the king, more fretfully still, "I do not deny that thefighting ability of our ships was multiplied by the new way of usingmissiles. What I do say is that if we'd come upon the Mekinese fleet incombat formation instead of dispersed; if we'd attacked them when theywere ready for us, it would be doubtful that we'd have been sodisastrously successful! Say that the new missile settings gave each ofour ships fire-power as effective as two or three or five of the enemy.The enemy was ten to one! If we hadn't hit them when they were inconfusion, we'd have been wiped out. And if we'd hit their fleet anyhow,we'd be dead. We did not hit the main fleet. We annihilated a divisionof it, a small part. We are still hopelessly inferior to the vastMekinese fleet."

  Bors took a seat at the rear of the room.

  A stout rear-admiral said somberly, "We hope we annihilated it, Majesty.There's no report of any ship fleeing in overdrive. But if any didescape, its report would lead to an immediate discovery of the exactimprovement in our missiles. I am saying, Majesty, that if one enemyship escaped that battle, we can look for all the enemy ships to beequipped with revised missiles like ours."

  Bors raised his voice. "May I speak?"

  "Ah," said the king. "Bors. By all means."

  "I make two points," said Bors with reserve. "One is that the Mekineseare as likely to think our missiles captured theirs as that they wereuncomputable. Missile designers have been trying for years to createinterceptors which capture enemy missiles. The Mekinese may decide we'veaccomplished something they've failed at, but they're not likely tothink we've accomplished something they never even thought of!"

  Voices babbled. A pompous voice said firmly that nobody would be soabsurd. Several others said urgently that it was very likely. Alldefense departments had research in progress, working on the capture ofenemy missiles. If it were accomplished, ships could be destroyed as amatter of routine.

  Bors waited until the king thumped on the table for silence.

  "The second thing I have to say, Majesty, is that there can be no plansmade until we know what we have to do. And that depends on what Mekinthinks has happened. Maybe no enemy ship got home. Maybe some ships tookback inaccurate reports. It would be very uncomfortable for them toreport the truth. Maybe they said we had some new and marvellous weaponwhich no fleet could resist. In that case, we are in a very fineposition."

  The king said gloomily, "You think of abominably clever things, Captain.But I am afraid we've been too clever. If Mekin masses its entire fleetto destroy us, they can do it, new missile-system or no newmissile-system! We have somehow to keep them from resolving to do justthat!"

  "Which," said Bors, "may mean negotiation. But there's no point innegotiating unless you know what your enemy thinks you've got. We couldhave Mekin scared!"

  There was a murmur, which could not be said to be either agreement ordisagreement. The king looked about him.

  "We cannot continue to fight!" he said sternly, "not unless we candefend Kandar--which we can't as against the Mekinese main fleet. Wewere prepared to sacrifice our lives to earn respect for our world, andto leave a tradition behind us. We must still be prepared to sacrificeeven our vanity."

  The vice-admiral said, "But one sacrifices, Majesty, to achieve. Do youbelieve that Mekin will honor any treaty one second after it ceases tobe profitable to Mekin?"

  "That," said the king, "has to be thought about. But Bors is right onone point. We should come to no final conclusion without information--"

  "Majesty," Bors interrupted. His words came slowly, as if an idea wereforming as he spoke. "The enemy may have no news at all. They may knowthey've been defeated, but they'd _never_ expect _our_ freedom fromloss. Why couldn't a single Kandarian ship turn up at some port whereits appearance would surely be reported to Mekin? It could pose as thesole survivor of our fleet, which would indicate that the rest of uswere wiped out in the battle. If we _had_ all been wiped out, there'd beno point in their fusion-bombing Kandar. Certainly they expected us tobe destroyed. One surviving ship can prove that we _have_ been!"

  The king's expression brightened.

  "Ah! And we can go and intern ourselves--"

  There was a growl. The pompous voice said, "We would gain time, Majesty.Our fear is that Mekin may feel it must avenge a defeat. But if one shipclaims to be the sole survivor of our fleet, it announces a Mekinesevictory. That is a highly desirable thing!"

  The king nodded.

  "Yes-s-s.... We were unwise to survive the battle. We can hide ourunwisdom. Captain Bors, I will give you orders presently. As of now, Iwill accept reports on battle-damage given and received." As Borssaluted and turned to the door, the king added, "I will be with thePretender presently."

  It was an order and Bors obeyed it. He went to find his uncle. He foundthe former monarch in the king's cabin of this, the largest ship of thefleet. The Pretender greeted Bors unhappily.

  "A very bad business," he observed.

  "Bad," agreed Bors. "But for the two of us, a defeat for Mekin is notbad news."

  "For us and Tralee," the old man said reprovingly, "there is somepleasure. But it is still bad. Every ship we destroyed must be replaced.Like every other subject planet, Tralee will be required to build--howmany ships? Ten? Twenty? We have increased the burden Mekin lays onTralee. And worse--much worse--"

  "There's such a thing," protested Bors, "as using a microscope ontroubles
! We did something we badly wanted to! If we can keep it up--"

  The Pretender said, "How is the food-supply on your ship? How long canyou feed your crew without supplies from some base?"

  Bors swore. The question had the impact of a blow. His _Isis_, like therest of the fleet, had taken off from Kandar to fight and be destroyed.There were emergency rations on board, of course. But the food-storagecompartments hadn't been filled. The fleet did not expect to go onliving, so it did not prepare to go on eating. It would have been absurdto carry stores for months when they expected to live only hours. Itsimply hadn't occurred to anyone to load provisions for a long operationaway from base.

  "That's what the king is worrying about," said the Pretender. "We'vesome thousands of men who will be hungry presently. If we reveal that wesurvived the battle, Mekin's tributaries will begin to think. They mighteven hope--which Mekin would have to stop immediately. If we do notreveal that we still exist, what can be done about starving ship-crews?It is a bad business. It would have been much better if the fleet hadbeen destroyed, as we expected, in a gesture of pure fury over its ownhelplessness."

  Bors said sardonically, "We can all commit suicide, of course!"

  The Pretender did not answer. His nephew sank into a chair and gloweredat the wall. The situation was contrary to all the illusions cherishedby the human race. To act decently and with honor is somehow fitting toa man and consistent with the nature of the universe, so that decencyand honor may prosper. But recent events denied it. Men who were willingto die for their countrymen only injured them by the attempt. And nowthe conduct which honor would approve turned upon them to bring theconsequences of treason and villainy.

  A long time passed. Bors sat with clenched hands. It was the barbaricinsistence of Mekin upon conquest that was at fault, of course. But thishappens everywhere, as it has throughout all history. There are, really,three kinds of people in every community, as there have always been.There are the barbarians, and there are the tribesmen, and there are thecivilized. This was true when men lived on only one planet, anddoubtless was true when the first village was built. There werecivilized men even then. If there was progress, they brought it about.And in every village there were, and are, tribesmen, men who placidlyaccept the circumstances into which they are born, and who wish nochange at all. And everywhere and at all times there are barbarians.They seek personal triumphs. They thrive on high emotional victories.And at no time will barbarians ever leave either civilized men ortribesmen alone. They crave triumphs over them and each other, and theycreate disaster everywhere, until they are crushed.

  Bors said evenly, "If the king's planning to surrender the fleet toMekin as ransom for Kandar, it won't work."

  "He's considering it," said his uncle. "It will be a way of giving themthe victory we cheated them of, though we didn't intend to win."

  "It won't work," repeated Bors. "It won't do a bit of good. They'll wantto punish Kandar because it wasn't beaten. They feed on destruction andbrutality. They're barbarians. The economic interpretation of historydoesn't apply here! The Mekinese who run things _want_ to be evil. Theywill be until they're crushed."

  "Crushed?" asked the Pretender bitterly. "Is there a chance of that?"

  Bors considered gravely. Then he said, "I think so."

  The door opened and the king came in. Bors rose and the king nodded. Hespoke to the Pretender.

  "Somebody raised the question of food," he said. "There isn't any tospeak of, of course. You'd think grown men would face facts! There's nota man willing to accept what is, and work from that! Lunatics!"

  He flung himself into a chair.

  "Suggested," he continued, "that a part of the fleet go to Norden to buyfood and bring it back. Of course Mekin wouldn't hear about it, wouldn'tguess at the survival of the fleet because food was bought in suchquantities! Suggested, that a part of the fleet go to some uncolonizedplanet and hunt meat. Try to imagine success in that venture! Suggested,that we travel a long distance, pick out a relatively small world, landand seize its spaceport and facilities and equip ourselves to bomb Mekinto extinction. And do it in a surprise attack! Suggested--"

  The king shook his head angrily. He did not look royal. He did not lookconfident. He looked embittered and even helpless. But he still lookedlike a very honest man trying to make up for his admitted deficiencies.

  "Majesty," said Bors.

  The king turned his eyes.

  "You're going to send me off for news," said Bors. "I suggested earlierthat my ship pretend to be the sole survivor of the fleet. I suggestnow that the ship add the wild and desperate boast that since there's nolonger a world which will sponsor it, it's turned pirate. It will takevengeance on its own. It defies the might of Mekin and it dares theMekinese fleet to do something about it."

  "Why?" asked the king.

  "Pirates," Bors answered, controlling his enthusiasm, "have to be hunteddown. It takes many ships to hunt down a pirate. I should be able tokeep a good-sized slice of the Mekinese navy busy simply lying in waitfor me here and there."

  "And?"

  "There are tribute-ships which carry food from the subject worlds toMekin. Hating Mekin as befits the sole survivor of this fleet, Majesty,it would be natural for me to capture such ships, even if I could donothing better with them than send them out to space to be wasted. Theywouldn't be wasted, naturally. They'd come here."

  The king said, "But you couldn't supply the fleet indefinitely!"

  Bors nodded agreement. But he waited.

  "You may try," said the king querulously. "Have you something else upyour sleeve?"

  Bors nodded in his turn.

  "Don't tell me what it is," said the king. "So long as the fleet getssome food and its existence isn't known.... If I knew what you're up to,I might feel I had to object."

  "I think not, Majesty," Bors said, showing a rare smile. "I'll need someextra men. If I do capture food-ships, they'll be useful."

  "I can't imagine that anything would be useful," said the king bitterly."Tell the admiral to give them to you."

  Bors saluted and left the room. He went directly to the admiral who intheory was second in command only while the king was aboard. Heexplained his mission and some of his intentions. The admiral listenedstonily.

  "I'll give you fifty men," he said. "I think you'll be killed, ofcourse. But if you live long enough to convince them that the fleet'sbeen destroyed, you'll be of service."

  "What," Bors asked, with a trace of humor, "can possibly be done aboutthe fact that we wiped out a Mekinese fleet instead of letting itexterminate us?"

  "The matter," the admiral answered seriously, "is under consideration."

  Bors shrugged and went to his own ship, the _Isis_. He was excessivelyuncomfortable. He'd said to his uncle, and implied to the king, that hehad some plan in mind. He did, but it angered him to know that hecounted on assistance; that, in theory, he could not possibly accomplishit alone. It was irritating to realize that he expected Gwenlyn and herfather to turn up, with their Talents, when absolutely nobody outside ofthe fleet could possibly imagine where the fleet had gone. On Kandar itmust be assumed, by now, that it was dead.

  His ship's boat clanked into position in the lifeboat blister. Thevalves closed on it. A moment later there was a whistling murmur, andthe boat's vision-ports clouded over outside and then cleared. Hestepped out into the ship's atmosphere. His second-in-command greetedhim in the control-room.

  "I was trying to reach you at the flagship, sir," he said. "The yacht_Sylva_ is lying a few miles off. Her owner has forwarded news reportsto the flagship. He asks that you receive him when you can, sir."

  Bors's apparent lack of surprise was real. He wasn't surprised. But hewas annoyed with himself for expecting something so impossible as the_Sylva_ tracing the fleet through an overdrive voyage of days to a mostunlikely destination like Glamis.

  "Tell him to come aboard," he commanded.

  He went to talk to the mess officer, reflecting that he would ask theMorgans
how the _Sylva_ had known where to come, and they'd tell him,and it would be extremely unlikely, and he would accept the explanation.The mess-officer looked harassed at the news of fifty additional crewmento be fed.

  "Principles of prudence and common sense," said Bors, "don't apply anymore. We'll feed them somehow."

  He went back to the control-room. When Morgan appeared, beamingexpansively, Bors was again unsurprised to see Gwenlyn with him. Logan,the Mathematics Talent, followed in their wake, looking indifferentlyabout him.

  "We wiped out the fleet headed for Kandar," Bors observed. "I don'tsuppose that's news, to you?"

  Morgan cheerfully shook his head.

  "And we're in considerably more trouble than before. Is that news?"

  "No," admitted Morgan. "It's reasonable for you to be."

  "Then, damnit, I'm going off on a pirating-news-gathering-food-raidingcruise alone," said Bors. "Is that news?"

  "We brought Logan," said Morgan, "to go with you. He'll be useful.That's Talents--"

  "--Incorporated information and I can depend on it," said Bors dourly."In plain common sense the odds are rather high against my accomplishinganything, such as coming back."

  Morgan looked at his daughter. He grinned.

  "We heard gloom from him the other day before a certain space-battle,didn't we?" He turned back to Bors. "Look, Captain. Our Talents don'tprophesy. Precognition simply says that when there are so many thousandways an event in the future can happen, then, in one of those severalthousand ways, it will. Precognition doesn't say which way. It doesn'tsay how. Especially, it doesn't say why. But we have a very firmprecognition by a very reliable Talent that you'll be alive and doingsomething very specific a year from now. So we assume you won't bepermanently killed in the meantime."

  "But anything else can happen?"

  "More or less," admitted Morgan.

  "What will happen?"

  "We don't know!" said Morgan again. "Someday I may take you aside andexplain the facts of precognition and other talents as I understandthem. I'm probably quite wrong. But I do know better than to try to prycertain kinds of information from my Talents. Right now--"

  "I'm going to try to capture a, what you might call a tribute-ship,loaded with food for Mekin."

  "Tralee," said Morgan with finality. "You'll try there."

  "Will I capture a food-ship there?" asked Bors.

  "How the devil would I know?" Morgan snapped.

  "You asked the wrong question," said Gwenlyn cheerfully. "If you askedif there's a cargo-ship down on Tralee, loading foodstuffs for Mekin,there can be an answer to that."

  "Is there?"

  "At the moment, yes," Morgan answered. "So the dowsing Talent says."

  "Then I'll go there," said Bors.

  "I thought you might," said Morgan. He looked at his daughter.

  "May I come along?" asked Gwenlyn. "With an assortment of Talents? Myfather's going to have long conferences with the king. He'll need someTalents here to work out things. But I could go along on your ship witha few of the others. We could help a lot."

  "No!" said Bors grimly.

  "I thought not," said Morgan. "Very well. Logan, you'll help CaptainBors, I'm sure."

  The math Talent said offhandedly;

  "Any calculations he needs, of course."

  He looked about him with a confident, modestly complacent air.

  Bors walked with Morgan and his daughter to the airlock. He turned toGwenlyn. "I don't mean to be ungallant, refusing to let you run risks."

  "I'm flattered but annoyed," Gwenlyn answered. "It means I'll have totake drastic measures. Luck!"

  She and her father went into the _Sylva's_ space-boat. The blister doorsclosed. Bors went back to the control room. He began to set up thecomputations for astrogation from the sun of Glamis to the sun ofTralee. He shortly heard the sound of arrivals via the _Isis's_airlock. Presently, his second-in-command reported fifty additionalhands aboard. They included astrogators, drive-engineers and assortedspecialists.

  After clearance with the flagship, the little warship aimed withpainstaking exactitude at Tralee's sun, making due allowance for itsproper motion, Glamis's proper motion, the length of time the light heaimed by had been on its way, the distance, and the _Isis's_ travel-ratein overdrive.

  Presently Bors said, "Overdrive coming!" and counted down. After "one"he pressed a button. There was the singularly unpleasant sensation ofgoing into overdrive. Then the small fighting ship was alone in itscocoon of warped and twisted space. Until it came out again, there wasno possible way by which any message could reach it or its existence bedetected or proved. Theory said, in fact, that the cosmos could explodeand a ship in overdrive would be unaware of the fact so long as itstayed in overdrive.

  But Bors's light cruiser came out where the sun of Tralee was a disk ofintolerable brilliance, and all the stars in every direction lookedexactly as usual.