Mack Reynolds - Dawnman Planet

“I hardly need point out that the possession of such a device would put our planet into such a position of advantage that the whole of United Planets, even if they could be coerced into acting in full unison, could not stand against us.”

The Baron came to his feet, and his personality seemed to fill the room to straining. “Reunited under the aegis of Phrygia, man, of all the three thousand worlds we have colonized, will march forward together. By the time the inevitable all-out contact between the Dawnworlds and our own is made, we shall be ready for these unintelligent—though highly advanced technically—antmen, beemen, call them what you will.”

Ronny looked up at him, expressionlessly. “And where do I come in on this? Why have you told me about it? Why do you hope I won’t report to Ross Metaxa?”

Baron Wyler smiled at him. “I would think that as sharp a man as yourself, my dear Bronston, would see what I have been leading to. I am as desirous of top operatives as is Ross Metaxa. I want you to join my forces, Ronald Bronston.”

Ronny looked at him.

He came to his own feet. “I see. You want a man planted in Section G who’ll keep you tipped off to the latest maneuvers of Ross Metaxa.”

“Why mince words? Obviously.”

The Section G agent’s mouth worked. He said finally, “I’ll have to think about it. Frankly, what’s been said here in the past hour has set me back on my mental heels.”

“Of course, my dear Bronston. Do not take too long, is all. Events are on the march. We must not be dullards.”

He made his way over to the wall screen he had utilized earlier, and said something into it.

The same door, through which the elderly Count Fitzjames had come, opened again and Rita Daniels entered the room.

Ronny stared.

She said, a mocking quality in her voice, “Good afternoon, Citizen Bronston.” He had noted the comparative drabness of the local women on the streets, here was the direct opposite. Not even in the most swank salons, in the most luxurious embassies in Great Washington, could he have found a more stunningly turned out young woman than this. No Tri-Di star could have equaled this slim blonde; no artificially manufactured sex symbol, the pert prettiness of this elfin girl.

The Baron beamed at the two of them “I understand you have already met my niece, Your Excellency.”

Ronny Bronston closed his eyes in pain.

Rita said sweetly, “This was quite a little gimmick, getting yourself appointed a plenipotentiary from UP. Or do you maintain that you bore that rank before reaching Phrygia?”

Ronny bowed, wryly. “You seem to have a gimmick or so up your own sleeve, Citizeness Daniels,” he said.

The Baron smiled his wide smile. “Whatever our friend’s immediate methods, my dear Rita, he obviously can think on his feet, a desirable trait.” He turned to Ronny. “My niece has been working, ah, incognito, with Interplanetary News, the better to learn the workings of our fellow worlds. However, I believe I shall, in the future, utilize her talents even more profitably. Had I known what Metaxa had up his sleeve, I would never have allowed her to try and penetrate that conference; I had no idea he would go to the extent of seizing and then memorywashing the poor girl.”

He turned back to Rita, “And now, my dear, will you see our guest to his quarters? He has some important decisions to make.”

Rita took him up, by way of the private elevator, to the ground floor and through the pseudo-Minoan Palace to a hovercar ramp. As they progressed, silently, passers-by came to a quick halt. Civilians pressed their hands over their hearts in the same salute Count Fitzjames had given the Baron, soldiers came to stiff attention.

She looked at him from the side of her eyes, a mocking quality still there.

Ronny said dryly, “Like magic, isn’t it? On Mother Earth, a lowly Interplanetary News reporter, sneaking into places she’s not wanted. Being grabbed, manhandled, mauled, battered around, and then memorywashed. But now a veritable princess, the niece of the Supreme Commandant.”

“What! Manhandled, mauled, battered around! Who dared?”

He looked at her as though in surprise. “Oh. That’s right, you wouldn’t remember.”

She had stopped. Now she stood there, fists on boyishly slim hips, glaring at him. “You… you…” Then she caught his grin.

“Ha!” she snapped. “The last time you told me I had a bottle of guzzle, was drenched, and in trouble with a traffic coordinator.”

He continued to grin, the mockery was in his face now.

She spun and marched on. “Someday, I’m going to find out what happened to me during that twenty-four hours,” she snarled. “And when I do…”

They reached a wide entryway which led off toward the gates down the ramp. Rita snapped something to one of the guards, who then spoke into a screen set in the wall. In moments, a low slung auto-car approached them. It was a two seater, and Rita slid under the controls. She dropped the manual lever and took the stick, waiting for him.

Ronny got in beside her and they started down the ramp. He said, “I’ve got an official car waiting for me at the main gate.”

“Let them follow. I want to talk to you.”

“All right. My suite’s at the United Planets Building.”

When they passed the UP limousine with the marines, he gestured to them to follow.

Rita said, “What did you think of Uncle Max?”

“Uncle Max? Oh, the Baron.”

“Maximilian, and a whole lot of other names and titles.”

Ronny said warily, looking out over the countryside, “He surprised me.” This whole area had been landscaped, all the way to the city. Phrygia evidently spared no expense in aggrandizing her Supreme Commandant.

She said, conversationally, “Have you ever noticed the extent to which man can delude himself when considering persons of whom he doesn’t approve?”

“Such as strongmen?” he said dryly.

“Exactly. Evidently, few consider that men such as Alexander didn’t stand alone. Actually, he was the leader of a team. A team of military and political geniuses so capable that they were able to pull down the world’s greatest empire. Men like Parmenion, Ptolemy, Antipater, Antigonus, Seleucus and all the Companions. Can you see the charm he must have radiated, the strength, the ability to draw men of great capability into his service? He must have indeed been like a god. Or Napoleon. Can you imagine the personality that man must have had, the charm, to draw together his team? Men like Ney, Marat, Bernadotte, Lannes, Soult and Massé na.”

She shook her head so that the ponytail she affected flounced back and forth. “No, Ronny Bronston, your strongmen of history weren’t dark villains with a mean glint in eye and dastardly deeds in mind. They were men of exceeding charm and strength, and they became strongmen because of their superiority.”

“How does Hitler fit into this theory?” Ronny said mildly.

“He’s come down to us as the arch villain of all time. And I have no doubt that his victims saw him in that light. But his immediate team evidently worshipped him. Even men of the caliber of Churchill admitted his personal charm, his strength of personality. Without it, he would never have swayed the people as he did.”

They were proceeding toward the capital city at full tilt now, the marines in the car behind having their work cut out trying to keep up with the speedy two seater the girl drove.

Ronny looked over at her, not failing to note the spray of freckles dusted over her slightly upturned nose. “You seem to have read up quite a bit on history, especially the history of strongmen.” He paused, before adding, “Could it be because you see another strongman, Uncle Max, coming along?”