Mack Reynolds - The Rival Rigelians

Fredric Buchwald grunted his disbelief.

Watson looked up and down the line of Genoese, the Earthmen as well as the natives. “On Texcoco we have now reached that point. We have a trained, eager population of over one billion persons. Our universities are turning out highly trained effectives at the rate of more than twenty millions a year. We have located all the raw materials we will need. We are now under way.” He looked at them in scornful amusement. “By the end of the next decade, we will bury you.”

Martin Gunther said calmly, “Are you through?”

“Yes. For the time,” Watson nodded.

“Very well. Then this is our progress report. In the past forty years, we have eliminated feudalism in all the more advanced countries. Even in the remote areas the pressures of our changing world are bringing them around. The populous of these countries will no longer stand to one side while the standard of living on the rest of Genoa grows so rapidly. On most of our planet, already the average family not only enjoys freedom, but a way of life far in advance of that of Texcoco. Already modern housing and household appliances are everywhere. Already both land cars and aircraft are available to the majority. The nations have formed an Inter-Continental League of governments so that it is unlikely that war will ever touch us again. And this is merely a beginning. In ten years, continuing our freely competitive way of developing, all will be living on a scale that only the wealthy can afford today.”

He came to an end and stared at the Texcocans.

Taller said, “There seems to be no agreement between the two delegations.”

Across from him the ancient Honorable Russ said, “It is difficult to measure this progress which both planets advocate. We seem to count refrigerators, television and privately owned cars and houses. You seem to ignore personal standards and concentrate on steel tonnage and the size of the grain harvest.”

The Texcocan scientist, Wiss, said easily, “Given the steel mills, and eventually automobiles and refrigerators will run off our assembly lines like water and will be available for everyone, not just for those who can afford to buy them. That is our goal, an abundance for all, and eventually we will reach it.”

“Hmmm, eventually,” Peter MacDonald laughed nastily.

The atmosphere was suddenly hostile. Hostile beyond anything that had gone before in earlier conference. There was an absolute burden of hate in the air.

And then Martin Gunther said without inflection, “I note that you have removed from the Pedagogue’s library all information dealing with nuclear fission.”

“For the purpose of study,” Dick Hawkins said smoothly.

“Of course,” Gunther said. “Did you plan to return it in the immediate future?”

“I am afraid our studies will take some time,” Barry Watson said flatly.

“I was afraid so,” Gunther said. “Happily, I took the precaution of making microfilms of the material involved more than a year ago.”

Barry Watson pushed his chair back and came to his feet. “We seem to have accomplished what little was possible by the meeting,” he said. Then, “If anything.” He looked to his right and his left at his cohorts. “Let’s go, gentlemen.”

They came stiffly erect. Watson turned on his heel and started for the door.

As they left, Natt Roberts turned for a moment and said to Gunther, “One thing, Martin. During this next ten years you might consider whether or not half a century has been enough to accomplish our task. Should we consider staying on? I would think the Co-ordinator would accept any recommendation along this line that we might make.”

The Genoese delegation looked after him thoughtfully, long after he had gone.

Finally, Martin Gunther said, “Baron Leonar, I think it might be a good idea if you put some of your men to work on making steel alloys suitable for spacecraft. The way things are developing, perhaps well need them in the not too distant future.”

Buchwald and MacDonald looked at him unblinkingly.

It was fifty years to a day since the Pedagogue had first gone into orbit about Rigel. Five decades had passed. Half a century.

Of the original crew of the Pedagogue , seven now gathered in the lounge of the spaceship. All of them had changed physically. Some of them softer to the point of flabbiness; some harder both of body and soul. The one representative of the weaker sex had developed a sullen expression as well as an exaggerated sexual one.

Barry Watson, Natt Roberts, Dick Hawkins, Isobel Sanchez, of the Texcocan team.

Martin Gunther, Peter MacDonald, Fredric Buchwald of the Genoese.

The gathering wasn’t so large as the one before. Only Taller and the scientist Wiss attended from Texcoco; only Baron Leonar and the son of Honorable Russ, from Genoa.

From the beginning they stared with hostility across the conference table. Even the pretense of amiability was gone.

Barry Watson rapped finally. “I am not going to dwell upon the measures you have been taking that can only be construed as military ones aimed eventually at the Texcocan State.”

Martin Gunther laughed nastily. “Is your implication that your own people have not taken the same measures, in fact, inaugurated them?”

Watson said, “As I say, I have no intention of even discussing this. Surely we can arrive at no agreement. There is one point, however, that we should consider on this occasion.”

The corpulent Peter MacDonald wheezed. “Well, out with it, then!”

Natt Roberts said, “I mentioned the matter to you at the last meeting.”

“Ah, yes,” Gunther nodded thoughtfully. “Just as you left. We have considered it. In fact, we held a small meeting just before coming up here.”

The Texcocans waited for him to go on.

“If I understand you,” Gunther said slowly, “you think we should reconsider returning to Terra City at this time.”

“It should be discussed,” Watson nodded. “Whatever the, ah, temporary difficulties between us, the original project of the Pedagogue is still our duty. Nothing is of more importance to all of us.”

The three of the Genoese team nodded their solemn agreement. “Of course,” Buchwald murmured.

“And the problem becomes: Have we accomplished completely what we set out to do? And, further, is it necessary, or at least preferable, for us to stay on and continue administration of the progress of the Rigel planets?”

They thought on it.

Buchwald said hesitantly, “It has been my own belief that Genoa is not quite ready for us to let loose the, ah, reins. If we left now, I am not sure…”

Roberts said, “The same applies to Texcoco. The State has made fabulous strides, but I am not sure what would happen if we leaders were to leave. There might be a complete collapse.”

Isobel Sanchez muttered, “Oh, I couldn’t bear the idea of returning to Terra City. Such a bore, really, life on Terra. So…so uninteresting. So much routine work and so little…”

Dick Hawkins looked at her testily. “That’s not at all the point. The point is are we, or are we not needed by the people of these planets?”

Barry Watson said, “We seem to be in basic agreement. Is a suggestion in order that we extend, for another twenty-five years, at least, this expedition’s work?”

Dick Hawkins said, “The Office of Galactic Colonization…”

Peter MacDonald broke in on him smoothly. “Will undoubtedly send out a ship to investigate. Very well, we shall simply inform them that things are not as yet propitious to our leaving, that another twenty-five years is in order. Since we are on the scene, undoubtedly our recommendation will be heeded.”