Talents, Incorporated

  Chapter 9

  "The decision," said King Humphrey the Eighth, stubbornly, "is exactlywhat I have said. In full war council it has been agreed that the fleet,through a new use of missiles, is a stronger fighting force than everbefore. This was evidenced in the late battle and no one questions it.But it is also agreed that we remain hopelessly outnumbered. We are in aposition where we simply cannot fight! For us to have fought wouldprobably have been forgiven if we had been wiped out in the recentbattle--preferably with only slight loss to the Mekinese. We offeredbattle expecting exactly that. Unfortunately, we annihilated the fleetthat was to have occupied Kandar. In consequence we have had to pretendthat we were destroyed along with them. And if we are discovered to bealive, and certainly if we offer to fight, Kandar will be exterminatedas a living world, to punish us and as a warning to future victims ofthe Mekinese."

  "Yes, Majesty," Bors said through tight lips. "But may I point out--"

  "I know what you want to point out," the king broke in irritably. "Withthe help of these Talents, Incorporated people, you've worked out a newbattle tactic you want to put into practice. You've explained it to theWar Council. The War Council has decided that it is too risky. We cannotgamble the lives of the people on Kandar. We have not the right toexpose them to Mekinese vengeance!"

  "I agree, Majesty," said Bors, "but at the same time--"

  The king leaned back in his chair.

  "I don't like it any better than you do," he said peevishly. "I expectedto get killed in a space-battle--not very gloriously, but at least withself-respect. Unfortunately we had bad luck. We won the fight. I do notlike what we have to do in consequence, but we have to do it!"

  Bors bit his lips. He liked and respected King Humphrey, as he hadrespect and affection for his uncle, the Pretender of Tralee. Both werehonest and able men who'd been forced to learn the disheartening lessonthat some things are impossible. But Bors believed that King Humphreyhad learned the lesson too well.

  "You plan, Majesty," he said after a moment, "to send me out again tocapture food-ships if I can."

  "Obviously," said the king.

  "The idea being," Bors went on, "that if I can get enough food for thefleet so it can make a journey of several hundreds of light-years--"

  "It is necessary to go a long way," the king confirmed unhappily. "Weneed to take the fleet to where Mekin is only a name and Kandar not eventhat."

  "Where you will disband the fleet--"

  "Yes."

  "And hope that Mekin will not take vengeance anyhow for the fight thefleet has already put up."

  The king said heavily, "It will be a very long time before word driftsback that the fleet of Kandar did not die in battle. It may never come.If it does, it will come as a vague rumor, as an idle tale, as absurdgossip about a fleet whose home planet may not even be remembered whenthe tales are told. There will be trivial stories about a fleet whichabandoned the world it should have defended, and fled so far that itsenemies did not bother to follow it. If the tale reaches Mekin, it maynot be believed. It may not ever be linked to Kandar. And if some day itis believed, by then Kandar will be long occupied. Perhaps it will beresigned to its status. It will be a valuable subject world. Mekin willnot destroy it merely to punish scattered, forgotten men who will neverknow that they have been punished."

  "And you want me," repeated Bors, "to find the stores of food that willlet the fleet travel to--oblivion."

  "Yes," said the king again. He looked very weary. "In a sense, ofcourse, we will simply be doing what we set out to do--to throw away ourlives. We intended to do that. We are doing no more now."

  Bors said grimly, "I'm not sure. But I will obey orders, Majesty. Do youobject if I pass out the details of the new device among some juniorofficers? I speak of the way to compute overdrive speed exactly and howto vary it. It could help the fleet to stay together, even inoverdrive."

  The king shrugged. "That would be desirable. I do not object."

  "I'll do it then, Majesty," said Bors. "I'll be assigned a new ship. I'dlike the same crew. I'll do my best, in a new part of the Mekineseempire, this time."

  "Yes," said the king drearily. "Don't make a pattern of raids that wouldsuggest that you have a base. You understand, it is impossible to usemore than one ship...."

  "Naturally," agreed Bors. "One more suggestion, Majesty. A ship could besent back to Kandar--not to land but to watch. If a single Mekinese shipwent there to ask questions, it could be destroyed, perhaps. Which wouldgain us time."

  "I will think about it," said the king doubtfully. "Maybe it hasoccurred to someone else. I will see. Meantime you will go to theadmiral for a new ship. And then do what you can to find provisions forthe fleet. It is not good for us to merely stay here waiting fornothing. Even action toward our own disappearance is preferable."

  Bors saluted. He went to the office of the admiral. Thecommander-in-chief of the Kandarian fleet was making an inspection, tomaintain tight discipline in the absence of hope. A young vice-admiralwas on duty in the admiral's stead. He regarded Bors with approval. Helistened with attention, and agreed with most of what Bors had to say.

  "I'll push the idea of a sentry over Kandar," he said confidentially."I'll make it two ships or three and take command. I want to send someof my engineer officers to get the details of that low-power overdrive.A very pretty tactical idea! It should be spread throughout the fleet."

  "It will help," Bors said with irony, "when we go so far away that we'llnever be heard of any more."

  "Eh?" The vice-admiral looked at him blankly. "Oh. Perhaps. You wouldn'tbe likely to pick up a cargo-ship loaded with Mekinese missiles, wouldyou? We could adapt them to our use."

  "If I did," Bors answered, "I suspect that somehow that ship would landitself on Mekin and blow up as it touched ground."

  The vice-admiral raised his eyebrows. Bors saluted quickly and left.

  Presently he was back on the _Sylva_. His new command would be suppliedwith extra missiles from other ships. Despite the fleet action againstthe Mekinese, there was not yet a shortage of such ammunition. When amissile could not be intercepted and itself did not try to intercept,the economy of missiles was great. In the battle of the gas-giantplanet, the fleet had fired no more than three or four missiles forevery enemy ship destroyed.

  Morgan took Bors aside.

  "I'm going to keep Logan here this trip. I'm working on the commanders.I need him. And our Talent for Detecting Lies,--she was the one who knewyou were in trouble, Gwenlyn tells me--is very necessary. I was hamperedby not having her while Gwenlyn was away. But she did a good job foryou!"

  Bors shrugged. He did not like depending upon Talents. He still wasn'tinclined toward acceptance of what he considered the occult. Now hesaid, "I'm duly grateful, but it's just as well. My mind doesn't work ina way to understand these Talents of yours. I admit everything, but I'mafraid I don't really accept anything."

  "It's perfectly reasonable," protested Morgan. "The facts fit together!I'm no hand at working out theories; I deal in facts. But the facts domake sense!"

  Bors found himself looking at the door of the family room, where Morganhad taken him. He realized that he was waiting for Gwenlyn to enter. Heturned back to Morgan.

  "They don't make sense to me," he said dourly. "You have a precognizer,you say. He foresees the future. I admit that he has. But the future isuncertain. It can't be foreseen unless it's pre-ordained, and in thatcase we're only puppets imagining that we're free agents. But therewould be no reason in such a state of things!"

  Morgan settled himself luxuriously in a self-adjusting chair. He thrusta cigar on Bors and lighted up zestfully.

  "I've been wanting to spout about that," he observed, "even if I'm notheoretician. Look here! What is true? What is truth? What's thedifference between a false statement and a true one?"

  Bors's eyes wandered to the door again. He drew them back.

  "One's so and the other isn't," he said.

  "No," said Morgan. "Truth is an accord
ance--an agreement--between anidea and a fact. If I toss a coin, I can make two statements. I can sayit will come up heads, or I can say that it will come up tails. Onesentence is true and one is false. A precognizer simply knows whichstatement is true. I don't, but he does."

  "It's still prophecy," objected Bors.

  "Oh, no!" protested Morgan. "A precognizer-talent doesn't prophesy! Allhe can do is recognize that an idea he has now matches an event thatwill happen presently. He can't extract ideas from the future! He canonly judge the truth or falsity of ideas that occur to him. He has tothink something before he can know it is true. He _does not getinformation from the future!_ He can only know that the idea he has nowmatches something that will happen later. He can detect a matching--anagreement--perhaps it's a mental vibration of some sort. But that'sall!"

  "I asked if I would capture a cargo-ship on Tralee--"

  "And I said I didn't know! Of course I said so! How could anybody knowsuch a thing except by pure accident? A precognizer might think of ninehundred and ninety-nine ways in which you might try to capture thatship. They could all be wrong. He might say you wouldn't capture it. Butyou might try a thousandth way that he hadn't thought of! All he canknow is that some idea he has concocted matches--some instinct stirs,and he _knows_ it's true! That's why one man can precognize dirtytricks. His mind works that way! We've got a woman who knows,infallibly, who's going to marry whom! That's why the ship-arrivalprecognizer can say a ship's coming in. His mind works on such things,and he has a talent besides!"

  "There are definite limits, then."

  "What is there that's real and hasn't limits?" demanded Morgan.

  The door opened and Gwenlyn came in. Bors rose, looking pleased.

  "I'm telling him the facts of life about precognition," Morgan told her."I think he understands now."

  "I don't agree," said Bors.

  Gwenlyn said amusedly, "Two of our Talents want to talk to you, Captain.You might say that they want to measure you for rumors."

  "They what?" demanded Bors, startled.

  "The Talent who predicts dirty tricks," said Gwenlyn, "is going to workwith the woman who broadcasts daydreams. They'll be our Department ofPropaganda."

  Bors said uncertainly, "But there's no point in propaganda! It'sdetermined."

  "I know!" said Morgan complacently. "The high brass has made a decision.A perfectly logical decision, too, once you grant their premises. Butthey assume that Talents, Incorporated, given some co-operation, ofcourse, lacks the ability to change the situation. In that they'remistaken."

  "Father hopes," said Gwenlyn amiably, "to modify the situation so theirassumptions will lead logically to a different conclusion. Apparentlythey're going to change their minds!"

  Bors objected. "But you can't know the future!"

  "Our precognizer--our Precognizer for Special Events," said Gwenlyn,"got the notion that a year from now King Humphrey should openparliament on Kandar, if everything is straightened out. The notionbecame a precognition. We don't know how it can come about, but it doesseem to imply a change of plans somewhere!"

  Bors found himself indomitably skeptical. But he said, "Ah! That's theprecognition you mentioned on Kandar--that the fleet wouldn't be wipedout and everybody killed."

  "No-o-o," said Gwenlyn. "That was another one. I'd rather not tell youabout it. It might be--unpleasant. I'll tell you later."

  Bors shrugged.

  "All right. You said I'm to be measured for rumors? Bring on yourtape-measures!"

  Morgan beamed at him. Gwenlyn went to the door and opened it. Anenormously fat woman came in, moving somehow sinuously in spite of herbulk. She gave Bors a glance he could not fathom. It was sentimental,languishing and wholly and utterly approving. He felt a momentaryappalled suspicion which he dismissed in something close to panic. Itcouldn't be that he was fated--

  Then the arrogant man with rings came in. He'd been identified as theTalent for Predicting Dirty Tricks. Bors remembered that he had aparanoid personality, inclined toward infinite suspiciousness, and thathe'd been in jail for predicting crimes that were later committed.

  "Gwenlyn says propaganda," said Morgan, "but I prefer to think of thesetwo Talents as our Department for Disseminating Truthful SeditiousRumors. You've met Harms." The man waved his hand, his rings glittering."But I didn't tell you about Madame Porvis. She has the extraordinarytalent of contagious fantasy. It is remarkably rare. She can daydream,and others contract her dreamings as if they were spread by germs."

  The fat woman bridled. She still regarded Bors with a melting gaze.Again he felt startled unease.

  "It's been a great trial to me," she said in a peculiarly childishvoice. "I had such trouble, before I knew what it was!"

  "Er--trial?" asked Bors apprehensively.

  "When I was just an overweight adolescent," she told him archly, "Idaydreamed about my school's best athlete. Presently I found that myshocked fellow-students were gossiping to each other that he'd acted asI daydreamed. Other girls wouldn't look at him because they said he wasmadly in love with me."

  The arrogant man with the rings made a scornful sound.

  "He hated me," said Madame Porvis, ruefully, "because the gossip madehim ridiculous, and it was only people picking up my daydreams!"

  She looked at Morgan. He nodded encouragement.

  "Years later," she said to Bors, "I grew romantic about an actor. He wasnot at all talented, but I daydreamed that he was, and also brilliantand worshipped by millions. Soon everybody seemed to believe it wastrue! Because I daydreamed it! He was given tremendous contracts,and--then I dared to daydream that he met and was fascinated by me!Immediately there was gossip that it had happened! When he denied thathe knew me,--and he didn't--and when he saw my picture and said hedidn't _want_ to, I was crushed. I wove beautifully tragic fantasiesabout myself as pining away and dying because of his cruelty,--and soonit was common gossip that I had!" She sighed. "He was considered avillain, because I daydreamed of him that way. His career was ruined.I've had to be very careful about my daydreams ever since."

  "Madame Porvis's talent," Morgan said proudly, "is all the moreremarkable because she realized herself that she had it. She lets ideaspop into her head and presently they pop into other people's heads andyou have first-class rumors running madly about. When her fantasiescontain elements of truth, so do the rumors. You see?"

  "It's most interesting," admitted Bors. "But--"

  "Now Harms," said Morgan, "reads news-reports. He's specialized on thosebrought back by Gwenlyn and by you. He guesses at the news behind thenews--and he knows when he's hit it. He'll tell Madame Porvis the facts,she'll weave them into a fantasy and they'll spread like wildfire. Ofcourse she can't plant new subjects in people's minds. But anybody who'sever heard of Mekin will pick up her fantasies about graft andinefficiency in its government. Riots against Mekin, and so on. However,one wants not only to spread seditious rumors about villains, but alsoabout--say--pirates who go about fighting Mekin. Tell her stories aboutyour men, if you like. Anything that's material for heroicdefiance-fantasies against Mekin."

  Bors found himself stubbornly resisting the idea. It might be that therewas such a thing as precognition in the form Morgan had described. Theremight be such a thing as contagious fantasy. But on the other hand--

  "I give up," he said. "I won't deny it and I can't believe it. I'll goabout my business of piracy. But you, sir," he turned to Morgan, "you'vegot to keep Gwenlyn from taking risks!"

  "True," said Morgan. "She could have some very unpleasant experiences.I'll be more stern with her."

  Gwenlyn did not seem alarmed.

  "One more thing," Bors added. "They say the dictator of Mekin issuperstitious, that he patronizes fortune-tellers. Suppose one of _them_is a Talent? Suppose _he_ gets precognized information?"

  "I worry about that," admitted Morgan. "But I know that I have effectiveTalents. There's no evidence that _he_ has."

  "He might have a Talent whose talent is confusing our Talents," Borssai
d with some sarcasm.

  Morgan grinned tolerantly.

  "Talk to these two. We've got some firm precognitions that make thingslook bad for Mekin."

  He left the room. Gwenlyn remained, listening with interest when theconversation began, and now and then saying something of no greatimportance. But her presence kept Bors from feeling altogether like afool. Madame Porvis looked at him with languishing, sentimental eyes.Harms watched him accusingly.

  Their questions were trivial. Bors told about the landings on Tralee andon Garen. The woman asked for details that would help her picture featsof derring-do. Bors hesitated, and did not quite tell her about thetruck drivers on Tralee who volunteered the information that their loadswere booby-trapped. But he did stress the fact that the populations ofdominated planets were on the thin edge of revolt. The suspicious Talentasked very little. He listened, frowning.

  When it was over and they'd gone--the fat woman again somehow managing agait which could only be called sinuous--Bors said abruptly, "What'sthis event you know of, a year ahead?"

  "King Humphrey opening parliament on Kandar," said Gwenlyn pleasantly.

  "There's another," said Bors, "which implies specifically that I'llstill be alive."

  "That?" said Gwenlyn. "That's another one. I won't talk about it. Itimplies that my father's going to retire from Talents, Incorporated."

  Bors fumed.

  "I don't like this prediction business," he said. "It still seems tohint that we're not free agents. Tell me," he said apprehensively. "Thatprecognition about me, it doesn't include Madame Porvis?"

  Gwenlyn laughed. "No. Definitely no!"

  Bors grunted. Then he managed to grin.

  "In that case I'll go pilfer some provisions so the fleet will beprepared to do what you tell me it won't, but which it has to beprepared to do. I suppose I'll be back?"

  "I hope so," said Gwenlyn, smiling.

  She gave him her hand. He left. He shook his head as he made his way tothe _Sylva's_ space-boat blister. He had it immediately taken to his newship. It was a light cruiser of the same class as the _Isis_. It would,of course, seem to be the same ship, and it had nearly the same crewaboard. No one of Morgan's freakish Talents was included this time, andBors felt more than a little relieved. He inspected everything and madesure his drive-engineers were more tractable than they'd been on the_Isis_. He meant to build another low-power overdrive at once.

  He cleared for departure with the flagship. He was swinging the shiptoward his first destination when a call came from the _Sylva_. He wasasked for. He went to a screen. He preferred to see Gwenlyn when hetalked to her. She was there.

  "_I've a memo for you_," she said briskly. "_There are cargo-shipsaground on Cassis and Dover. There is a sort of patrol-squadron ofwarships aground on Meriden. Nothing on Avino. Are you recording this?_"

  "I won't forget it," he said.

  "_Then here's the situation on each of the subject worlds so far ascargo-ships and fighting ships are concerned. Our dowser can tell aboutthem. Remember, this doesn't apply to ships in overdrive! We can'tprecognize anything about them unless we're at the destination they'reheading for, and then only the time of arrival. And the dowser'sinformation is strictly as of this moment._"

  Bors nodded. Her tone was absolutely matter-of-fact. Bors was almostconvinced.

  She read off a list of statements with painstaking clarity. She'devidently had the dowser go over the list of twenty-two dominatedplanets. Bors told himself that the events she reported werepossibilities that might somehow be true.

  "_Most of the Mekinese grand fleet_," she finished, "_is aground onMekin itself. It's probably there for inspection and review or some suchceremony. There's no way to tell. But it's there. And that's the latestTalents, Incorporated information. As my father says, you can depend onit._"

  "All right," said Bors. "Thanks." Then he added gruffly, "Take care ofyourself."

  She smiled at him and clicked off. Bors was confused because he couldn'tquite believe that other matters could be predicted.

  The new ship, the _Horus_, sped away in overdrive, leaving the fleet inorbit around the useless planet Glamis. Glamis was in a favorable statejust now. It was a lush green almost from pole to pole, save where itsseas showed a darker, muddy, bottom-color. It would look inviting tocolonists. But at any time its sun could demonstrate its variability andturn it into a cloud-covered world of steaming prospective jungle, or ina slightly shorter time turn it to a glacier-world. The vegetation onGlamis was remarkable. The planet, though, was of no use to humanitybecause it was unpredictable.

  The _Horus_ ran in overdrive for two days while a low-power unit wasbuilt in its engine-room, to go in parallel to the normal overdrive. Butthere was a double-throw switch in the line, now. Either the standard,multiple light-speed overdrive could be used, or the newer and vastlyslower one, but not both together. The ship came out of overdrive inabsolute emptiness with no sun anywhere nearby. She was surrounded onevery hand by uncountable distant stars. The new circuit was brazed in.It had a micro-timer included in its design. Within its certain, limitedtiming-capacity, it could establish or break a contact within thethousandth of a microsecond.

  Bors made tests, target-practice of a sort. He let out a metal-foilballoon which inflated itself, making a sphere some forty feet indiameter. In the new low-speed overdrive he drew away from it for alimited number of microseconds. He measured the distance run. He madeother runs, again measuring. From ten thousand miles away he made areturn-hop to the target-balloon and came out within a mile of it.

  He cheered up. This was remarkably accurate. He sent the ship intostandard overdrive again. Twice more, however, he stopped between starsand practiced the trick of breaking out of the new overdrive--in whichhis ship was undetectable--at a predetermined point. The satisfaction ofsuccessful operation almost made up for the extremely disagreeablesensations involved.

  But on the eighth ship-day out from Glamis, the _Horus_ came back tounstressed space with a very, very bright star burning almost straightahead. The spectroscope confirmed that it was the sun of Meriden.

  Bors sounded the action alert. Gongs clanged. Compartment-doors hissedshut.

  "You know," said Bors conversationally into the all-speaker microphoneand in the cushioned stillness which obtained, "you all know what we'reaiming at. A food-supply for the fleet. But we've got what looks like avery useful gadget for fighting purposes. We need to test it. There's asmall squadron on Meriden, ahead, so we'll take them on. It is necessarythat we get _all of them_, so they can't report anything to Mekin thatMekin doesn't already know. All hands ready for action!"

  In twenty minutes by the ship's clocks the _Horus_ was a bare thirtythousand miles off the planet Meriden. The new drive worked perfectlyfor planetary approach, at any rate. It even worked more perfectly thanthe twenty-minute interval implied. It had been off Meriden for fiveminutes then.

  Mekinese fighting ships were boiling up from the atmosphere of Meridenand plunging out to space to offer battle. They were surprisingly ready,reacting like hair-triggered weapons. Bors hadn't completed hischallenge before they were streaking toward Meriden's sky. Theycouldn't have been more prompt if, say, Meriden seethed with rumorsabout a pirate ship in space, which it was their obligation to fight.

  According to the radar screens, there were not less than fifteen shipsstreaking out to destroy the _Horus_. Fifteen to one--interesting odds.

  Bors sent the _Horus_ roaring ahead to meet them.

  Part Four