Devoire said, “It’s not you I’m afraid of.”
“Why not? Perhaps you think I betrayed the men of “88.”
“No, of course not. No man of sense believes that you did. But the days of the Federalists are over, Altmayer.”
Altmayer tried to smile. He felt a little hungry; he hadn’t eaten that day --no time for food. Was the day of the Federalists over? It might seem so to others. The movement had died on a wave of ridicule. A conspiracy that fails, a “lost cause,” is often romantic. It is remembered and draws adherents for generations, if the loss is at least a dignified one. But to shoot at living creatures and find the mark to be robots; to be outmaneuvered and outfoxed; to be made ridiculous--that is deadly. It is deadlier than treason, wrong, and sin. Not many had believed Altmayer had bargained for his life by betraying his associates, but the universal laughter killed Federalism as effectively as though they had.
But Altmayer had remained stolidly stubborn under it all. He said, “The day of the Federalists will never be over, while the human race lives.”
“Words,” said Devoire impatiently. “They meant more to me when I was younger. I am a little tired now.”
“Simon, I need access to the subetheric system.”
Devoire’s face hardened. He said, “And you thought of me. I’m sorry, Altmayer, but I can’t let you use my broadcasts for your own purposes.”
“You were a Federalist once.”
“Don’t rely on that,” said Devoire. “That’s in the past. Now I am-- nothing. I am a Devoirist, I suppose. I want to live.”
“Even if it is under the feet of the Diaboli? Do you want to live when they are willing; die when they are ready?”
“Words!”
“Do you approve of the all-Galactic conference?”
Devoire reddened past his usual pink level. He gave the sudden impression of a man with too much blood for his body. He said smolderingly, “Well, why not? What does it matter how we go about establishing the Federation of Man? If you’re still a Federalist, what have you to object to in a united humanity?”
“United under the Diaboli?”
“What’s the difference? Humanity can’t unite by itself. Let us be driven to it, as long as the fact is accomplished. I am sick of it all, Altmayer, sick of all our stupid history. I’m tired of trying to be an idealist with nothing to be idealistic over. Human beings are human beings and that’s the nasty part of it. Maybe we’ve got to be whipped into line. If so, I’m perfectly willing to let the Diaboli do the whipping.”
Altmayer said gently, “You’re very foolish, Devoire. It won’t be a real union, you know that. The Diaboli called this conference so that they might act as umpires on all current interhuman disputes to their own advantage, and remain the supreme court of judgment over us hereafter. You know they have no intention of establishing a real central human government. It will only be a sort of interlocking directorate; each human government will conduct its own affairs as before and pull in various directions as before. It is simply that we will grow accustomed to running to the Diaboli with our little problems.”
“How do you know that will be the result?”
“Do you seriously think any other result is possible?”
Devoire chewed at his lower lip, “Maybe not!”
“Then see through a pane of glass, Simon. Any true independence we now have will be lost.”
“A lot of good this independence has ever done us. --Besides, what’s the use? We can’t stop this thing. Coordinator Stock is probably no keener on the conference than you are, but that doesn’t help him. If Earth doesn’t attend, the union will be formed without us, and then we will face war with the rest of humanity and the Diaboli. And that goes for any other government that wants to back out.”
“What if all the governments back out? Wouldn’t the conference break up completely?”
“Have you ever known all the human governments to do anything together? You never learn, Altmayer.”
“There are new facts involved.”
“Such as? I know I am foolish for asking, but go ahead.”
Altmayer said, “For twenty years most of the Galaxy has been shut to human ships. You know that. None of us has the slightest notion of what goes on within the Diaboli sphere of influence. And yet some human colonies exist within that sphere.”
“So?”
“So occasionally, human beings escape into the small portion of the Galaxy that remains human and free. The government of Earth receives reports; reports which they don’t dare make public. But not all officials of the government can stand the cowardice involved in such actions forever. One of them has been to see me. I can’t tell you which one, of course-- So I have documents, Devoire; official, reliable, and true.”
Devoire shrugged, “About what?” He turned the desk chronometer rather ostentatiously so that Altmayer could see its gleaming metal face on which the red, glowing figures stood out sharply. They read 22:31, and even as it was turned, the 1 faded and the new glow of a 2 appeared.
Altmayer said, “There is a planet called by its colonists Chu Hsi. It did not have a large population; two million, perhaps. Fifteen years ago the Diaboli occupied worlds on various sides of it; and in all those fifteen years, no human ship ever landed on the planet. Last year the Diaboli themselves landed. They brought with them huge freight ships filled with sodium sulfate and bacterial cultures that are native to their own worlds.”
“What? --You can’t make me believe it.”
“Try,” said Altmayer, ironically. “It is not difficult. Sodium sulfate will dissolve in the oceans of any world. In a sulfate ocean, their bacteria will grow, multiply, and produce hydrogen sulfide in tremendous quantities which will fill the oceans and the atmosphere. They can then introduce their plants and animals and eventually themselves. Another planet will be suitable for Diaboli life--and unsuitable for any human. It would take time, surely, but the Diaboli have time. They are a united people and . . .”
“Now, look,” Devoire waved his hand in disgust, “that just doesn’t hold water. The Diaboli have more worlds than they know what to do with.”
“For their present purposes, yes, but the Diaboli are creatures that look toward the future. Their birth rate is high and eventually they will fill the Galaxy. And how much better off they would be if they were the only intelligence in the universe.”
“But it’s impossible on purely physical grounds. Do you know how many millions of tons of sodium sulfate it would take to fill up the oceans to their requirements?”
“Obviously a planetary supply.”
“Well, then, do you suppose they would strip one of their own worlds to create a new one? Where is the gain?”
“Simon, Simon, there are millions of planets in the Galaxy which through atmospheric conditions, temperature, or gravity are forever uninhabitable either to humans or to Diaboli. Many of these are quite adequately rich in sulfur.”
Devoire considered, “What about the human beings on the planet?”
“On Chu Hsi? Euthanasia--except for the few who escaped in time. Painless I suppose. The Diaboli are not needlessly cruel, merely efficient.”
Altmayer waited. Devoire’s fist clenched and unclenched.
Altmayer said, “Publish this news. Spread it out on the interstellar subetheric web. Broadcast the documents to the reception centers on the various worlds. You can do it, and when you do, the all-Galactic conference will fall apart.”
Devoire’s chair tilted forward. He stood up. “Where’s your proof?”
“Will you do it?”
“I want to see your proof.”
Altmayer smiled, “Come with me.”
They were waiting for him when he came back to the furnished room he was living in. He didn’t notice them at first. He was completely unaware of the small vehicle that followed him at a slow pace and a prudent distance. He walked with his head bent, calculating the length o
f time it would take for Devoire to put the information through the reaches of space; how long it would take for the receiving stations on Vega and Santanni and Centaurus to blast out the news; how long it would take to spread it over the entire Galaxy. And in this way he passed, unheeding, between the two plain-clothes men who flanked the entrance of the rooming house.
It was only when he opened the door to his own room that he stopped and turned to leave but the plain-clothes men were behind him now. He made no attempt at violent escape. He entered the room instead and sat down, feeling so old. He thought feverishly. I need only hold them off an hour and ten minutes.
The man who occupied the darkness reached up and flicked the switch that allowed the wall lights to operate. In the soft wall glow, the man’s round face and balding gray-fringed head were startlingly clear.
Altmayer said gently, “I am honored with a visit by the Coordinator himself.”
And Stock said, “We are old friends, you and I, Dick. We meet every once in a while.”
Altmayer did not answer.
Stock said, “You have certain government papers in your possession, Dick.”
Altmayer said, “If you think so, Jeff, you’ll have to find them.”
Stock rose wearily to his feet. “No heroics, Dick. Let me tell you what those papers contained. They were circumstantial reports of the sulfation of the planet, Chu Hsi. Isn’t that true?”
Altmayer looked at the clock.
Stock said, “If you are planning to delay us, to angle us as though we were fish, you will be disappointed. We know where you’ve been, we know Devoire has the papers, we know exactly what he’s planning to do with them.”
Altmayer stiffened. The thin parchment of his cheeks trembled. He said, “How long have you known?”
“As long as you have, Dick. You are a very predictable man. It is the very reason we decided to use you. Do you suppose the Recorder would really come to see you as he did, without our knowledge?”
“I don’t understand.”
Stock said, “The Government of Earth, Dick, is not anxious that the all-Galactic conference be continued. However, we are not Federalists; we know humanity for what it is. What do you suppose would happen if the rest of the Galaxy discovered that the Diaboli were in the process of changing a salt-oxygen world into a sulfate-sulfide one?
“No, don’t answer. You are Dick Altmayer and I’m sure you’d tell me that with one fiery burst of indignation, they’d abandon the conference, join together in a loving and brotherly union, throw themselves at the Diaboli, and overwhelm them.”
Stock paused such a long time that for a moment it might have seemed he would say no more. Then he continued in half a whisper, “Nonsense. The other worlds would say that the Government of Earth for purposes of its own had initiated a fraud, had forged documents in a deliberate attempt to disrupt the conference. The Diaboli would deny everything, and most of the human worlds would find it to their interests to believe the denial. They would concentrate on the iniquities of Earth and forget about the iniquities of the Diaboli. So you see, we could sponsor no such expose.”
Altmayer felt drained, futile. “Then you will stop Devoire. It is always that you are so sure of failure beforehand; that you believe the worst of your fellow man--”
“Wait! I said nothing of stopping Devoire. I said only that the government could not sponsor such an expose and we will not. But the expose will take place just the same, except that afterward we will arrest Devoire and yourself and denounce the whole thing as vehemently as will the Diaboli. The whole affair would then be changed. The Government of Earth will have dissociated itself from the claims. It will then seem to the rest of the human government that for our own selfish purposes we are trying to hide the actions of the Diaboli, that we have, perhaps, a special understanding with them. They will fear that special understanding and unite against us. But then to be against us will mean that they are also against the Diaboli. They will insist on believing the expose to be the truth, the documents to be real--and the conference will break up.”
“It will mean war again,” said Altmayer hopelessly, “and not against the real enemy. It will mean fighting among the humans and a victory all the greater for the Diaboli when it is all over.”
“No war,” said Stock. “No government will attack Earth with the Diaboli on our side. The other governments will merely draw away from us and grind a permanent anti-Diaboli bias into their propaganda. Later, if there should be war between ourselves and the Diaboli, the other governments will at least remain neutral.”
He looks very old, thought Altmayer. We are all old, dying men. Aloud, he said, “Why would you expect the Diaboli to back Earth? You may fool the rest of mankind by pretending to attempt suppression of the facts concerning the planet Chu Hsi, but you won’t fool the Diaboli. They won’t for a moment believe Earth to be sincere in its claim that it believes the documents to be forgeries.”
“Ah, but they will.” Geoffrey Stock stood up, “You see, the documents are forgeries. The Diaboli may be planning sulfation of planets in the future, but to our knowledge, they have not tried it yet.”
On December 21, 2800, Richard Sayama Altmayer entered prison for the third and last time. There was no trial, no definite sentence, and scarcely a real imprisonment in the literal sense of the word. His movements were confined and only a few officials were allowed to communicate with him, but otherwise his comforts were looked to assiduously. He had no access to news, of course, so that he was not aware that in the second year of this third imprisonment of his, the war between Earth and the Diaboli opened with the surprise attack near Sirius by an Earth squadron upon certain ships of the Diaboli navy.
In 2802, Geoffrey Stock came to visit Altmayer in his confinement. Altmayer rose in surprise to greet him.
“You’re looking well, Dick,” Stock said.
He himself was not. His complexion had grayed. He still wore his naval captain’s uniform, but his body stooped slightly within it. He was to die within the year, a fact of which he was not completely unaware. It did not bother him much. He thought repeatedly, I have lived the years I’ve had to live.
Altmayer, who looked the older of the two, had yet more than nine years to live. He said, “An unexpected pleasure, Jeff, but this time you can’t have come to imprison me. I’m in prison already.”
“I’ve come to set you free, if you would like.”
“For what purpose, Jeff? Surely you have a purpose? A clever way of using me?”
Stock’s smile was merely a momentary twitch. He said, “A way of using you, truly, but this time you will approve. . . . We are at war.”
“With whom?” Altmayer was startled.
“With the Diaboli. We have been at war for six months.”
Altmayer brought his hands together, thin fingers interlacing nervously, “I’ve heard nothing of this.”
“I know.” The Coordinator clasped his hands behind his back and was distantly surprised to find that they were trembling. He said, “It’s been a long journey for the two of us, Dick. We’ve had the same goal, you and I-- No, let me speak. I’ve often wanted to explain my point of view to you, but you would never have understood. You weren’t the kind of man to understand, until I had the results for you. --I was twenty-five when I first visited a Diaboli world, Dick. I knew then it was either they or we.”
“I said so,” whispered Altmayer, “from the first.”
“Merely saying so was not enough. You wanted to force the human governments to unite against them and that notion was politically unrealistic and completely impossible. It wasn’t even desirable. Humans are not Diaboli. Among the Diaboli individual consciousness is low, almost nonexistent. Ours is almost overpowering. They have no such thing as politics; we have nothing else. They can never disagree, can have nothing but a single government. We can never agree; if we had a single island to live on, we would split it in three.
“But ou
r very disagreements are our strength! Your Federalist party used to speak of ancient Greece a great deal once. Do you remember? But your people always missed the point. To be sure, Greece could never unite and was therefore ultimately conquered. But even in her state of disunion, she defeated the gigantic Persian Empire. Why?
“I would like to point out that the Greek city-states over centuries had fought with one another. They were forced to specialize in things military to an extent far beyond the Persians. Even the Persians themselves realized that, and in the last century of their imperial existence, Greek mercenaries formed the most valued parts of their armies.
“The same might be said of the small nation-states of preatomic Europe, which in centuries of fighting had advanced their military arts to the point where they could overcome and hold for two hundred years the comparatively gigantic empires of Asia.
“So it is with us. The Diaboli, with vast extents of galactic space, have never fought a war. Their military machine is massive, but untried. In fifty years, only such advances have been made by them as they have been able to copy from the various human navies. Humanity, on the other hand, has competed ferociously in warfare, Each government has raced to keep ahead of its neighbors in military science. They’ve had to! It was our own disunion that made the terrible race for survival necessary, so that in the end almost any one of us was a match for all the Diaboli, provided only that none of us would fight on their side in a general war.
“It was toward the prevention of such a development that all of Earth’s diplomacy has been aimed. Until it was certain that in a war between Earth and the Diaboli, the rest of humanity would be at least neutral, there could be no war, and no union of human governments could be allowed, since the race for military perfection must continue. Once we were sure of neutrality, through the hoax that broke up the conference two years ago, we sought the war, and now we have it.”
Altmayer, through all this, might have been frozen. It was a long time before he could say anything.