Zach Hughes - The Stork Factor

spoiled child, but it had been adults who spoiled him, the colonel included. And questioning the thinking which led Richard Skeerzy, the late preaching Brother, to tell Ronnie the modern fairy tale about birth did not mean that the colonel was ready to throw away all decent values in the false name of truth. There were things a young boy should not know. Almost wryly he wondered if, with Ronnie dreading having to share his father with a little brother so much, if the boy would have killed his own mother had he known the real method of arrival of a baby. But that was silly. The question was, had they been wrong? Should they have told Ronnie something more akin to the truth? Ask one question— Now they, the administration, had requested that he, as the nation's number-one military hero, take personal charge of the effort to ferret out the new rebels. He had said no. But sitting alone, wondering, questioning, thinking about what source it would mean if the new rebels had come up with a new power source capable of sending man into space again, and not just in fuel-burning rockets with limited speed and range, he reconsidered. He was not in sympathy with anyone who wanted to overthrow the government. He had been that route and thirty years of experience had shown him that overthrow is not necessarily the answer. But if anyone found a group of scientists who could so change the world that there might be some hope, after all, he wanted it to be him. Otherwise the Brothers, in their iron-boot mentality, might put all of the rebels on the rack and shakeshock all knowledge out of them. He could not allow such a waste. He punched a button Brother President Murrel had just returned to his office. «Baxley here. Brother President,» the Colonel said in his most

impressive voice. «After thinking over your request, I would like to say that it is not only my duty but my honor to serve the Republic in any manner for which I have the capacity.» «We are pleased, colonel,» Murrel said. «You'll take command immediately. The Vice President will brief you on progress made to date. Meanwhile, is there anything you'd like. Equipment? Personnel? Information?» «I'd like to question the girl.» Murrel frowned. «Her interrogation is being conducted by qualified experts.» «Nevertheless, I'd like to see her.» Murrel made a gesture of impatience. He'd been against dragging the old warhorse back into harness from the first, but the others had insisted

that, in a time of crisis, the active participation of the national hero would lend a certain respectability to the operation. «That can be arranged,» he said, finally. «I'll get back to you.» «Brother Murrel,» Baxley said, «if I'm to be in command of this

operation I shall expect to have full authority. I shall expect access to all information.» «She's being held in the old Pentagon,» Murrel said sullenly. CHAPTER TWELVE The sensor mechanisms of the ship blanketed the Third Planet. The

ship, itself, was lying in the protective shadow of the rather large satellite

of the planet, safe from detection. For five planetary rotations the ship lay there, motionless in space, while automatic things hummed and searched in vain for any trace of suspicion. She checked the information eagerly, wanting to find the offending

radiations, wanting to collect her specimens and start the long, boring trip home. In frustration, after the fifth rotation, she demanded a recheck on the original sensor, the ancient device which was still in operation out beyond the Ninth Planet. Once again the reliability of the sensor was proved. Since the ship's instruments showed no anti-detection activity from the planet, she ordered that the vessel be moved in closer. From the new distance, visual observation was possible. She was sickened. The incredible conditions on the planet below seemed to offer conclusive proof that the original condition of the inhabitants had not changed significantly. The total technological progress of eons seemed to be expressed in an inefficient internal-combustion-primitive mechanicalism. After the quiet splendor of the home worlds, the planet below seemed to be nothing more than a hive of unattractive insectlike beings crowded into huge, cancerous cities. Since the city concept had been discarded early in

the history of the race as being hopelessly detrimental to well-being, this, too, proved to her the inferiority of the racelike beings who peopled the world below. We will go back. The observation is inconclusive. Positive readings of a planet-killing weapon cannot be ignored. She used the name of the ancient deity, a knowledge which had been stirred by the opening of the closed areas of her brain. But she agreed to wait. Two rotations near the planet. Nothing. The burning of bodies fascinated her. Huge quantities of them. Around each city vast complexes of ovens into which death was pushed each day. It was incredible. A people who faced death could not accomplish a

technical feat such as the manufacture of a planet killer. It was against all reason. But there was the quiet, eternally circling space debris which had been discovered shortly after moving the ship to its new location. She joined with a section of what was apparently a primitive combustion rocket, locked it into a port, examined it with the aid of a technology so far advanced that the secrets of the rocket were revealed within minutes. It was puzzling. Those hopeless people down there had, at some time not too far past, been in space. Pursuing this aspect, she searched the surface of the satellite by scoutship and found traces of activity there. Discarded vehicles were detected. However, there was no sign of permanent occupation of the airless satellite. Those who had come had gone, and left only discarded machines and pitiable plaques reading, she assumed, not taking the trouble to run the primitive printed language through the computers, proudly of the conquest of the tiny bit of space between the satellite and the planet. Yet, even that much accomplishment did not fit the pattern. The beings on the planet were not supposed to be in space at all. As a matter of fact, the primitive mechanical technology, expressed mainly in ground vehicles and a few atmosphere flying machines, was, according to the long-range predictions of the ancients, beyond the capacity of the beings on the planet. Thus, she was forced to stay. Frustration and anger activated the glands of her body. She required almost constant attention. It was a bore. She knew the working of her body intimately. Under normal circumstances, periodic checks were sufficient. Now it was necessary to make checks twice each rotation of the planet, otherwise she began to feel the vague uneasiness of excess glandular activity, the nagging ache of dying cells. She wanted, more than anything, to activate one of the weapons and burn the offending planet from the skies. Thus, when the sensors alarmed, she was in a vindictive mood. The

populated areas of the planet were half-in, half-out of the light of the sun. The twilight line was passing through the midsection of the populated northern continent. She was sleeping when the alarm entered her mind and brought her into instant awareness. Report. Life force action. Coordinates— She located instantly with the aid of the computers. The area involved was in daylight. She chose to go down with the protection of merely a forcefield and antigravity belt. She went as she was, in a long, flowing garment designed for comfort. The life-force action, incredible emanation coming from such a place, guided her. She could sense it. It was strong.

When she neared the surface, the residual effects of the action clung to the person of a lank-haired, thin, vilely unhealthy male who knelt beside a female on a crowded sidewalk. There was blood in the hair of the female and the male was voiding his stomach contents into the street. She was disgusted. Yet, incredibly, there were the emanations of the life force coming from the ugly male and that was even more serious than the original report of a planet-killing device, for it was impossible for these beings to develop so far. She swallowed her distaste, lowered into the midst of the most nauseating mob of beings she'd ever seen. In order to include him in the force of the belt, she had to touch him. She caught the stink of him. It was unbelievable. And in the short moment when she had to let down the forcefield to take him in, she caught a short breath of the poisoned air. She performed quick repair on the damaged lung cells and closed the field about them, forcing herself to touch him. He made noises with his mouth, like an animal. Silence, she sent. Silence or— The things with which she threatened him would have awed an intelligent being, yet he seemed unaffected, continuing to make noises with his mouth and to look at her with an unmistakable rapture in his eyes. She could not believe