V
"Dis," Ihjel said, consulting a thick file. "Third planet out from itsprimary, Epsilon Eridani. The fourth planet is Nyjord--remember thatbecause it is going to be very important. Dis is a place you need a goodreason to visit and no reason at all to leave. Too hot, too dry, thetemperature in the temperate zones rarely drops below a hundredFahrenheit. The planet is nothing but scorched rock and burning sand.Most of the water is underground and normally inaccessible. The surfacewater is all in the form of briny, chemically saturated swamps.Undrinkable without extensive processing. All the facts and figures arehere in the folders and you can study them later. Right now I want youjust to get the idea that this planet is as loathsome and inhospitableas they come. So are the people. This is a solido of a Disan."
Lea gasped at the three-dimensional representation on the screen. Not atthe physical aspects of the man, as the biologist trained in thespecialty of alien life she had seen a lot stranger sights. It was theman's pose, the expression on his face. Tensed to leap, his lips drawnback to show all of his teeth.
"He looks like he wanted to kill the photographer," she said.
"He almost did--just after the picture was taken. Like all Disans hehas an overwhelming hatred and loathing of offworlders. Not without goodreason though. His planet was settled completely by chance during theBreakdown. I'm not sure of the details, but the overall picture isclear, since the story of their desertion forms the basis of all themyths and animistic religions on Dis."
"Apparently there were large scale mining operations carried on thereonce, the world is rich enough in minerals and mining it is verysimple." But water came only from expensive extraction processes and Iimagine most of the food came from offworld. Which was good enough untilthe settlement was forgotten, the way a lot of other planets were duringthe Breakdown. All the records were destroyed in the fighting and theore carriers pressed into military service. Dis was on its own. Whathappened to the people there is a tribute to the adaptationpossibilities of Homo sapiens. Individuals died, usually in enormouspain, but the race lived. Changed a good deal, but still human.
"As the water and food ran out and the extraction machinery broke down,they must have made heroic efforts to survive. They didn't do itmechanically, but by the time the last machine collapsed, enough peoplewere adjusted to the environment to keep the race going. Their(Their? n. of transc.) descendants are still there, completely adaptedto the environment. Their body temperatures are around one hundred andthirty degrees. They have specialized tissue in the gluteal area forstoring water. These are minor changes compared to the major ones theyhave done in fitting themselves for this planet.
"I'm not sure of the exact details, but the reports are veryenthusiastic about symbiotic relationships. They assure us that this isthe first time Homo sapiens has been an active part of eithercommensalism or inquilinism other than in the role of host."
"Wonderful!" Lea enthused.
"Is it?" Ihjel scowled. "Perhaps from the abstract scientific point ofview. If you can keep notes, perhaps you might write a book about itsome time. But I'm not interested. I'm sure all these morphologicalchanges and disgusting intimacies will fascinate you, Dr. Morees. Butwhile you are counting blood types and admiring your thermometers, Ihope you will be able to devote a little time to a study of the Disans'obnoxious personalities. We must either find out what makes these peopletick--or we are going to have to stand by and watch the whole lot blownup!"
"Going to do what?" Lea gasped. "Destroy them? Wipe out this fascinatinggenetic pool? Why?"
"Because they are so incredibly loathsome, that's why!" Ihjel said."These aboriginal hotheads have managed to lay their hands on someprimitive cobalt bombs. They want to light the fuse and drop these bombson Nyjord, the next planet. Nothing said or done can convince themdifferently. They demand unconditional surrender or else. This isimpossible for a lot of reasons--most important because the Nyjorderswould like to keep their planet for their very own. They have triedevery kind of compromise but none of them work. The Disans are out tocommit racial suicide. A Nyjord fleet is now over Dis and the deadlinehas almost expired for the surrender of the cobalt bombs. The Nyjordships carry enough H-bombs to turn the entire planet into an atomicpile. That is what we must stop."
* * * * *
Brion looked at the solido on the screen, trying to make some judgmentof the man. Bare, horny feet--a bulky, ragged length of cloth around thewaist was the only garment. What looked like a piece of green vine washooked over one shoulder. From a plaited belt were suspended a numberof odd devices made of hand-beaten metal, drilled stone and loopedleather. The only recognizable one was a thin knife of unusual design.Loops of piping, flared bells, carved stones tied in senseless patternsof thonging gave the rest of the collection a bizarre appearance.Perhaps they had some religious significance. But the well-worn andhandled look of most of them gave Brion an uneasy sensation. If theywere used--what in the universe could they be used _for_?
"I can't believe it," he finally concluded. "Except for the exotichardware, this lowbrow looks like he has sunk back into the stone age. Idon't see how his kind can be of any real threat to another planet."
"The Nyjorders believe it, and that's good enough for me," Ihjel said."They are paying our Cultural Relationships Foundation a good sum to tryand prevent this war. Since they are our employers, we must do what theyask." Brion ignored this large lie, since it was obviously designed asan explanation for Lea. But he made an mental note to query Ihjel laterabout the real situation.
"Here are the tech reports." Ihjel dropped them on the table. "Dis hassome spacers as well as the cobalt bombs--though these are the realthreat. A tramp trader was picked up _leaving_ Dis. It had delivered ajump-space launcher that can drop those bombs on Nyjord while anchoredto the bedrock of Dis. While essentially a peaceful and happy people theNyjorders were justifiably annoyed at this and convinced the tramp'scaptain to give them some more information. It's all here. Boiled downit gives a minimum deadline by which time the launcher can be set up andstart throwing bombs."
"When is that deadline?" Lea asked.
"In ten days. If the situation hasn't been changed drastically by thenthe Nyjorders are going to wipe all life from the face of Dis. I assureyou they don't want to do it. But they will drop the bombs in order toassure their own survival."
"What am I supposed to do?" Lea asked, annoyedly flipping the pages ofthe report. "I don't know a thing about nucleonics or jump-space. I'm anexobiologist with a supplementary degree in anthropology. What helpcould I possibly be?"
Ihjel looked down at her, fondling his jaw, fingers sunk deep into therolls of flesh. "My faith in our recruiters is restored," he said."That's a combination that is probably rare--even on Earth. You're asscrawny as an underfed chicken but young enough to survive if we keep aclose eye on you." He cut off Lea's angry protest with a raised hand."No more bickering. There isn't time. The Nyjorders must have lost overthirty agents trying to find the bombs. Our Foundation has had sixpeople killed--including my late predecessor in charge of the project.He was a good man, but I think he went at this problem the wrong way. Ithink it is a cultural one, not a physical one."
"Run it through again with the power turned up," Lea said frowning. "AllI hear is static."
"It's the old problem of genesis. Like Newton and the falling apple,Levy and the hysteresis in the warp field. Everything has a beginning.If we can find out why these people are so hell-bent on suicide, wemight be able to change the reasons. Not that I intend to stop lookingfor the bombs or the jump-space generator either. We are going to tryanything that will avert this planetary murder."
"You're a lot brighter than you look," Lea said, rising and carefullystacking the sheets of the report. "You can count on me for completeco-operation. Now I'll study all this in bed if one of you overweightgentlemen will show me to a room with a strong lock on the inside of thedoor. Don't call me, I'll call you when I want breakfast."
*
* * * *
Brion wasn't sure how much of her barbed speech was humor and how muchserious, so he said nothing. He showed her to an empty cabin--she didlock the door--then looked for Ihjel. The Winner was in the galleyadding to his girth with an immense gelatin dessert that filled agood-sized tureen.
"Is she short for a native Terran?" Brion asked. "The top of her head isbelow my chin."
"That's the norm. Earth is a reservoir of tired genes. Weak backs,vermiform appendixes, bad eyes. If they didn't have the universities andthe trained people we need, I would never use them."
"Why did you lie to her about the Foundation?"
"Because it's a secret--isn't that reason enough?" Ihjel rumbledangrily, scraping the last dregs from the bowl. "Better eat something.Build up the strength. The Foundation has to maintain its undercoverstatus if it is going to accomplish anything. If she returns to Earthafter this, it's better that she should know nothing of our real work.If she joins up, there'll be time enough to tell her. But I doubt if shewill like the way we operate. Particularly since I plan to drop someH-bombs on Dis myself--if we can't turn off the war."
"I don't believe it!"
"You heard me correctly. Don't bulge your eyes and look moronic. As alast resort I'll drop the bombs myself, rather than let the Nyjorders doit. That might save them."
"Save them--they'd all be radiated and dead!" Brion's voice was raisedin anger.
"Not the Disans. I want to save the Nyjorders. Stop clenching your fistsand sit down and have some of this cake. It's delicious. The Nyjordersare all that counts here. They have a planet blessed by the laws ofchance. When Dis was cut off from outside contact the survivors turnedinto a gang of swamp-crawling homicidals. It did the opposite forNyjord. You can survive there just by pulling fruit off a tree."
"The population was small, educated, intelligent. Instead of sinkinginto an eternal siesta they matured into a vitally different society.Not mechanical--they weren't even using the wheel when they wererediscovered. They became sort of cultural specialists, digging deepinto the philosophical aspects of interrelationship. The thing thatmachine societies never have had time for. Of course this was ready madefor the Cultural Relationships Foundation, and we have been workingwith them ever since. Not guiding so much as protecting them from anyblows that might destroy this growing idea. But we've fallen down on thejob."
"Nonviolence is essential to those people--they have vitality withoutneeding destruction. But if they are forced to blow up Dis for their ownsurvival--against every one of their basic tenets--their philosophywon't endure. Physically they'll live on. As just one more dog-eat-dogplanet with an A-bomb for any of the competition who drop behind."
"Sounds like paradise now."
"Don't be smug. It's just another world full of people with the same oldlikes, dislikes and hatreds. But they are evolving a way of livingtogether, without violence, that may some day form the key to mankind'ssurvival. They are worth looking after. Now get below and study yourDisan and read the reports. Get it all pat before we land."