Robert Silverberg: The Planet Killers

To Leigh Brackett and Edmond Hamilton—world-wreckers without equal.

ROY GARDNER

His obligation to the Earth wasn’t nearly as important as the one he had to himself.

CHIEF KARNES

Duty was his only master and it knew neither right nor wrong.

LORI MARKS

Only her ideas were fancier than her figure.

JOLLAND SMEE

Holding the fate of the world finally cracked this man.

DAMON ARCHER

Old dull-as-dishwater Archer had some pretty scandalous plans.

TOM STEEVES

It was his friendliness that held the fate of Lurion.

Roy Gardner paused for a moment outside Security Chief Karnes’ office, making sure his uniform was straight. Karnes had sent for him with only an hour’s notice. That was fairly little time to get spruced up for an audience with your superior officer.

Besides which, Gardner had no idea why he was wanted. You never did, when you worked for Security. They sent you a message, or they buzzed you on the phone and said, “Karnes wants to see you,” and you hopped to it. Security Chief Karnes was not a man who enjoyed being kept waiting.

Gardner stepped into the scanning field outside Karnes’ office. The green glow bathed him for a moment, simultaneously checking his face against the master files and examining him for concealed weapons. Then the door rolled silently back.

Security Chief Karnes sat in the curve of a kidney-shaped desk, smiling pleasantly. He was a man still in his prime, no more than fifty-five. He had held his dreaded post as Chief of the Terran Security Service for fifteen years, and probably would hold it for three decades yet to come. Karnes was thin-faced and youthful-looking, with a bristly crop of copper-colored hair, and black eyes like little marbles.

“Come in, Roy,” he said with warmth.

Gardner stood stiffly at attention in front of Karnes’ desk. A quick gesture from Karnes relaxed his posture. Karnes did not insist on strict military bearing, provided nobody took it upon himself to deviate from the rules until receiving the Chief’s permission.

“Sit down, Roy. I hate to have a man stand like a ramrod while I’m trying to talk to him.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Gardner lowered himself into a webchair to the left of Karnes’ desk. The Security Chief riffled through some sheets of paper, found the one he wanted, and swung round to face Gardner.

“Roy, how much do you know about the planet named Lurion?”

“Very little, sir,” Gardner admitted. It didn’t pay to bluff knowledge with the Chief. “It’s the fourth world of the Betelgeuse system, isn’t it? Inhabited by humanoids. That’s about all I can tell you, sir.”

Karnes nodded. “The galaxy is full of worlds. You aren’t expected to know everyone of them in detail. And you’ve given the essential information here. However, there’s one additional fact about Lurion that you ought to know; and that’s why you’re here.” Karnes tapped the sheet of paper in his hand. “We’ve been studying Lurion very closely. We’ve run some probability checks with the master computer. In sixty-seven years, plus or minus eight months,” Karnes said, frowning heavily, “Lurion will launch an all-out war against the Solar System. During this war, Earth will be totally destroyed and heavy losses will be inflicted on Mars, Venus, and the other planets of this system.”

Gardner started. “Earth… destroyed?’

“So the computer says.”

“That’s a nasty idea, the destruction of Earth. If the machine’s telling the truth, that is.”

“Truth? Truth is a concept that has meaning only when you talk about time past, and sometimes not even then. We’re talking about the future. The computer says the attack will happen—if we allow it to take place. Do you think we dare risk it?”

“Oh,” Gardner said softly. He leaned back in the firm webchair, watching Karnes very carefully. Around him, the computer system of Earth Central clicked and murmured. A bright bank of cryotronic tubes glared at Gardner from the wall.

Gardner crossed one uniformed leg over the other and waited. It didn’t take a million-cryotron calculator to guess what Karnes was aiming at, but Gardner had long since learned to let Earth’s Chief of Security have his own way in presenting a situation.

Karnes rubbed his cheekbones, a gesture that accented his gaunt angularity. He said, “According to the best figures we have, there are some three billion people living on Lurion.”

“Half Earth’s current population,” Gardner said.

Karnes smiled coldly. “Ah, yes. Now, you realize that among Lurion’s three billion people there are some who will be the parents of those who will aid in Earth’s destruction sixty-seven years from now. The seeds of the conflict have already been planted. Probability says that if we sit back and do nothing, we will be destroyed. Therefore, naturally, we’ll have to take preventive measures against Lurion.”

Sweat started to roll down Gardner’s face. “What sort of preventive measures are planned, sir?”

“Total destruction of Lurion, of course.”

Gardner had seen it coming almost from the beginning of the conversation, but still the naked bluntness of the statement rocked him.

He studied his superior closely. Karnes didn’t look much like the sort of man who could order the death of a planet, Gardner thought. Karnes didn’t seem to have the necessary inner hardness, despite the precise angularity of his face and bearing. But you could never tell about people, it seemed.

Besides, Karnes wouldn’t have to do the job himself; it was merely his decision to make. He would aim the gun, but someone else would have to pull the trigger.

Gardner said, “And suppose the computer is wrong?”

Karnes shrugged. “Worlds have died unjustly before, you know. The universe is unsentimental. A minor readjustment in the metabolism of a solar furnace, a flare of energy, and a totally innocent world dies.”

“Of novas, yes. Natural causes. But this is entirely different. It’s murder, isn’t it?”

“In self-defense.”

“Self-defense before a hostile blow has been struck?” Gardner asked.

Karnes looked displeased. “Thanks to modern computer science, it’s no longer necessary to wait for the first blow to be struck. But you’re forcing me to rationalize, Roy, and I don’t want to have to do that. Let me make the situation absolutely clear: we will never know if the computer was wrong. If we destroy Lurion, there will be no war two generations hence. Therefore, we’ll have to assume for the sake of our souls that the computer is telling us the truth.”

“A tremendous assumption.”

“I know that,” Karnes said.

The Security Chief sighed. For a moment his professional guard was down, and Gardner saw beyond the mask to the inner man, burdened with guilt for the dreadful deed he had resolved to do. Pulling the trigger, Gardner thought, was perhaps not the worst of it. The man who aimed, who chose the victim, perhaps had more to justify to his soul.

“So Lurion will be destroyed.”

“Lurion must be destroyed; otherwise Earth will be. We can’t consider any alternatives to that set of statements. Either them or us, and we have to pray that we’re more worthy of surviving than they are. From what I know of Lurion,” Karnes said, “I think we are.” He smiled grimly. “All right. By now you know why I’ve called you in here. You’ve been picked for the job.”

Gardner said nothing. He stared at thé thick red carpeting on the floor of the Chiefs office.