Mack Reynolds - Dawnman Planet

Ronny drank half of the pseudo-whiskey down. “If any of us are around, a couple of decades from now.”

The big Indian looked at him. “I knew it was something inportant,” he said.

Ronny nodded and briefed the other operative on recent developments.

Their drinks were finished by the time he was through. His host got up to get new ones. “And now?” he asked.

Ronny shrugged. “My assignment isn’t particularly important. Just one phase of the whole. Ross Metaxa wants me to take what steps I can and keep Baron Wyler from sounding off about the Octagon’s plans to speed up the amalgamation of United Planets and all other human settled worlds. From what this mopsy, Rita Daniels, tells me, the Baron has been playing footsie with Interplanetary News.”

“Footsie, yet,” Birdman snorted. “Baron Wyler is Interplanetary News.”

Ronny gaped at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I told you we need a larger staff here. There’s a lot cooking that’s going to have to come right before Metaxa’s eyes. I’m working on the report right now. At any rate, Baron Wyler owns communications on Phrygia. All communications. And he also controls Interplanetary News. Who did you think owned it?”

“It never occurred to me to wonder. I realize, of course, that we’ve got every kind of socio-economic system ever dreamed up, through the centuries, at one place or another in United Planets; but I didn’t think in terms of an organization as strong as Interplanetary News being privately owned. Certainly not by one individual.”

“It’s not exactly one individual,” the Indian growled. “More like a family, and the Baron’s the head of the family.”

He made a face. “I’d better give you some background. You were right, when you said UP has every socio-economic system ever dreamed up by man, on one planet or the other. It also has a lot of crisscrosses.”

Ronny frowned at him.

Birdman explained. “Take communism. We’ve got planets, such as my own Piegan used to be, that practice primitive tribal communism. Then we’ve got planets of ‘purists,’ who have attempted to build a society such as Marx and Engels originally had in mind back in 1848. Then we’ve got a sample or two of communism, as Lenin saw it; then, one or two as DeLeon adapted socialism to America; and, at least one on the Stalinist conception—that’s a real honey—and one, I can think of, based on Trotsky’s heresy. And Mao, the Chinese. And Tito, remember Tito?”

“No,” Ronny said, “but you’ve made your point. There’s a lot of confusion on just what communism is.”

The Indian was nodding. “Yes. Well, the crisscross on this planet is a doozy. You might call it industrial feudalism. Kind of a classical capitalism gone to seed. Kind of free enterprise without either freedom, or, except for a handful, any enterprise. You see, they got to the point where the wealth of Phrygia is in the hands of less than one percent of the population. The means of production, distribution, communications, the farms, the mines, the whole shebang—all owned and controlled by comparatively few families.”

Ronny grunted. “In any society, a good man gets to the top.”

“Or loses his scalp trying,” Birdman agreed. “If he can’t, he tries to change the society. Well, they have one fairly workable way of getting around that on Phrygia. Any real stute that comes along, gets adopted into one of the big families. The Romans used to do the same thing; Octavius was an adopted son of Caesar.

“But to get on with it. There’s evidently no end to the desire for wealth and the power it brings. A millionaire wants to become a billionaire and a billionaire wonders how it’d be to have a trillion. Far, far beyond the point where his own needs are completely satisfied, the stute with a power complex continues to accumulate more wealth, more power. It might not make sense to you and me, but there it is. Well, Baron Wyler has about outgrown Phrygia. He’s looking for new worlds to conquer, and I’ve a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t expect to allow United Planets to stand in his way. It fact, it didn’t even start with the present Baron. The dream had evidently been in his family, and probably other industrial feudalistic families here, for several generations. Interplanetary News is just one of the projects designed to help pave the way.”

Ronny was staring at him.

The Indian chuckled sourly. “Sounds unbelievable, eh? Well, in spite of the far-out nature of this super-loose confederation of ours, United Planets is still basically a republic. Whatever the home government of each planet, in the UP it has one voice, one vote, no more. But there’s no particular reason why man, in his eruption into space, has to remain a republican. Given a strong enough ambition on the part of a few fellas like our good Baron, and what’s to prevent an empire from being established?”

Ronny was shaking his head. “Too many would fight.”

The other nodded in agreement. “That’s what’s baffled me. Something is going on. Something the Baron is counting upon to give him such an edge over the other strong worlds, which would ordinarily resist his ambitions, that he’d prevail.”

Ronny Bronston thought about it for a long moment, staring down into his glass. He said finally, “I suppose it’s about time I got in touch with this Baron Wyler. Have you got a Section G communicator handy?”

“Over there.”

Ronny sat at the indicated desk. The device was about the size of a woman’s vanity case, and was propped up now so that the small screen was immediately before the operative. He activated it.

“Ronald Bronston,” he said. “I want to report to Supervisor Jakes, soonest.”

He sat there, saying nothing, until Sid Jakes’ grinning face appeared on the screen.

“Hi, Ronny.” He chuckled. “On Phrygia, eh? How’s that redskin coming along?”

Ronny said, “That redskin is evidently a one-man task force. He’s dug up the fact that Baron Wyler controls Interplanetary News and is evidently prettying up a scheme to unite UP…”

“Well, isn’t that what we want to do?”

“… under his leadership. Possibly, I should say, under his dictatorship.”

The supervisor scoffed. “Neat trick, if he could pull it off.”

“Evidently, he has some reason to believe he can.”

Sid Jakes looked at him thoughtfully. “Get a complete report on this, soonest, Ronny.”

“Phil Birdman’s just about got it finished. Meanwhile, would it be possible for you to put through an order making me a plenipotentiary extraordinary from UP to the Supreme Commandant of Phrygia?”

“Have you gone drivel-happy, old boy?”

“No. The Baron’s got his heavies out looking for me. I want to face him, but not on the kind of basis he evidently has in mind. I want some weight to throw around.”

Jakes thought about it some more. “All right. Within twenty-four hours, you’ll be a special mission from the President of UP to Baron Wyler. You’ll have to play it from there. Dream up your own idea of what the mission is. Wyler won’t dare touch you, with such a commission.” He grinned. “This oughta be a neat trick.”

He faded from the screen.

Ronny turned back to his companion.

Birdman said, “I’m not sure I like this. Wyler’s feeling his oats. He’s getting near the point where he’s ready to take action. I don’t think he’s afraid of the Commissariat of Interplanetary Affairs.”

Ronny shrugged. “The way you brought me here, to his hideout, I couldn’t find it again. So even though he slips me Scop, I can’t betray you. For myself, I’m no big loss. If I don’t get away from him, again, there’s not much he can get out of me that he doesn’t already know. Now, let’s get about the job of outfitting me properly to be a plenipotentiary from the President to the Baron. Sid is going to radio through to Wyler that I am to appear.”