Mack Reynolds - Dawnman Planet

Rita looked at Ronny. “You plan to put me in cold?”

“Can you think of something better to do with you?”

“I refuse!”

He didn’t bother to answer her.

“That’s illegal!” one of the other junior officers said belligerently. “Illegal, without the permission of the subject.”

The Indian laughed. “Friend,” he said, “you’re probably going to see one hell of a lot of illegality in the next few weeks, so you might as well start getting acclimated to it.” He looked at Ronny. “You realize we’re going to have to take this in shifts, don’t you? We aren’t going to be allowed to both sleep at once.”

Ronny sighed and nodded. “Now let’s see about this girl’s shot.”

The trip to the Dawnworlds went with little incident.

Ronny Bronston and Phil Birdman made no effort to interfere with ship routine and Captain Gary Volos’ prerogatives. They conducted themselves as passengers with but one great difference.

They stood alternating eight hour watches. Never was there a time when both slept. Never was there a time when their weapons weren’t immediately to hand.

They had taken measures, the first day, to put the Pisa’s small arms under lock, and remained the only men aboard with guns.

Largely, they spent their time playing battle chess with young Richardson, or with Mendlesohn or Takashi, the other two junior officers. The skipper himself refused to associate with the Section G agents beyond what was necessary to operate the spacecraft.

Ronny had thought he was making some progress with Richardson and Takashi, at least. Since they were going to be as exposed to the dangers of the Dawnworlds as anyone, he could see no reason for not giving the others all the information he held himself. This included a complete rundown on the true nature of United Planets and of Section G. It included the information about the little aliens, and the further information that this species had evidently been wiped out in their entirety by the Dawnmen.

He told them about the desperate efforts being made by Ross Metaxa and other ranking officials of the Octagon to bring complete unity to the United Planets, in order to prepare men for the eventuality of the touching of the two cultures. And he told them of Baron Wyler’s ambitions and his present expedition to the Dawnworlds.

He had thought he had been making progress and was disillusioned the seventh Earth day after they had left the vicinity of Phrygia.

Phil Birdman had been playing battle chess with Mendlesohn, by far the best player aboard, which irritated the Indian since he rather fancied his own game. At this point, Birdman’s double line of pawns were in full retreat before the other’s strong armor attack. And Phil was muttering unhappily to himself, even as he tried to fight a delaying action until he could bring up his own heavier pieces.

Richardson, seemingly about nothing more important than crossing the small mess hall lounge for coffee, suddenly launched himself on the Section G agent’s back.

Birdman, with no time to unholster his weapon, fell to the floor, the other clinging desperately to him, and tried to roll out. Mendlesohn, his eyes wide, scurried about the two threshing men as though not quite sure whether to throw his inconsiderable weight into the fray.

From the doorway, H gun in hand, Ronny snapped, “All right. Break it up. Richardson! On your feet, or I’ll muffle you.”

The aggressive ensign stood up, panting, his face unrepentant.

Phil Birdman sat there for a moment, shaking his head ruefully. “Why’d you stop it?” he growled at Ronny. “Now I’ll never know if I could have clobbered the young yoke.”

Ronny said, “You’re too old to be rolling around on the deck.”

“Huh,” Birdman snorted, pushing himself erect. “Look who’s talking. It won’t be long before…” He cut himself short.

Ronny Bronston looked at him bleakly.

“Sorry,” Phil said. “That’s the trouble with wisecrackers. A supposedly smart quip gets out before you realize it’s jetsam.”

Ronny said to Richardson, “What was the idea?”

The other glowered resentment, in spite of the leveled gun. “What do you think it was? You’ve taken over the ship at gun point. I was trying to recapture it.”

The captain entered from the compartment entrance opposite the one Ronny occupied. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“This cloddy here is making like a hero,” Ronny said mildly. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to put him in cold, Captain Volos.”

“He’s a necessary member of my crew!”

Phil Birdman muttered, “He’s about as necessary as a coronary.”

Ronny Bronston, still holding the gun, said, “So long as we’re in underspace, you could handle the ship singlehanded, Captain, as you well know.”

“I refuse to put a man into cold without his permission.”

Ensign Richardson glared defiantly at the Section G agent.

Ronny said mildly, “Then I’ll have to shoot him. I can’t afford to take the chance of having him loose. Next time, he might succeed.”

“Not if he tried it on me,” Birdman said nastily.

Ronny looked at Richardson, then the skipper. “The fat’s in the fire, gentlemen. One man’s life isn’t very important.”

Richardson said tightly, “Captain, I think he means it.”

Captain Gary Volos rasped, “Very well, but I insist that this, too, be entered in the ship’s log.”

“That log is going to be plumb full before this trip’s over.” Birdman grinned.

Afterwards the two agents sat in the lounge alone over hot drinks.

Ronny growled, “It was lucky I couldn’t sleep.”

“Aw, I could’ve scalped that molly,” the Indian grumbled.

“Not if Mendlesohn would have got around to slugging you on the back of the head.”

Birdman chuckled. “Two down and only three left to go. You think we’ll ever get there without putting them all in the cold? The party gets rougher and rougher.”

Ronny asked suddenly, “Phil, why’d you join Section G?”

“Who, me?” Phil seemed embarrassed. “I don’t know. Better job than I had. Chance to see a lot of the different planets. Get out of the rut. That sort of thing.”

Ronny Bronston went on, as though he hadn’t really heard his companion. “When I was a kid I had the United Planets dream but good. Man exploding out into space, carrying our species to the stars. Going every which way, trying every scheme ever dreamed up from Plato’s Republic to Howard Scott’s technocracy. Trying out every proposed ethic. Trying out a hundred methods of improving the race, by breeding in this, or breeding out that. Planets colonized by nothing but Negroes, others by only people over six and a half feet tall, others by Zen Buddhists, others by persons with I.Q.s of over one-fifty, others by vegetarians, and on and on.”

Phil snorted, missing the earnestness in the other’s tone. “How about Amazonia? A few thousand feminists. No men at all, at first. Artificial insemination. Then when boy kids came along, they enslaved them.”

Ronny said impatiently, “Sure, a lot of them are purely from jetsam, but they’re balanced out by those that are finding new paths, new truths, and really advancing the species. The United Planets dream. An opportunity for everybody to try anything. But what’s the ultimate aim? What’s the goal? To dominate the whole galaxy, the way Rita sees it?”

Phil looked at him questioningly. “Does there have to be a goal?” He was beginning to catch the other’s mood.

“That’s my point. I wonder if there should be. I wonder if the dream wasn’t going better before the Octagon stepped in and decided that UP needed direction.”

“Well, you know how the Old Man would answer that. It was fine to let mankind take off in all directions back when we had no reason to believe there was other intelligent life in the galaxy. But when we ran into those little fellows, then we had to get underway.”