Isaac Asimov: The Gentle Vultures

The Arch-administrator nodded. “And then?”

Devi-en said, “What should have happened was that a nuclear war ought to have begun shortly afterward and in the course of the war, nuclear weapons would have developed quickly in destructiveness, have been used nevertheless in typical large-primate fashion, and have quickly reduced the population to starving remnants in a ruined world.”

“Of course, but that didn’t happen. Why not?”

Devi-en said, “There is one point. I believe these people, once mechanization started, developed at an unusually high rate.”

“And if so?” said the other. “Does that matter? They reached nuclear weapons the more quickly.”

“True. But after the most recent general war, they continued to develop nuclear weapons at an unusual rate. That’s the trouble. The deadly potential had increased before the nuclear war had a chance to start and now it has reached a point where even large-primate intelligences dare not risk a war.”

The Arch-administrator opened his small black eyes wide. “But that is impossible. I don’t care how technically talented these creatures are. Military science advances rapidly only during a war.”

“Perhaps that is not true in the case of these particular creatures. But even if it were, it seems they are having a war; not a real war, but a war.”

“Not a real war, but a war,” repeated the Arch-administrator blankly. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.” Devi-en wiggled his nose in exasperation. “This is where my attempts to draw logic out of the scattered material we have picked up is least satisfactory. This planet has something called a Cold War. Whatever it is, it drives them furiously onward in research and yet it does not involve complete nuclear destruction.”

The Arch-administrator said, “Impossible!”

Devi-en said, “There is the planet. Here we are. We have been waiting fifteen years.”

The Arch-administrator’s long arms came up and crossed over his head and down again to the opposite shoulders. “Then there is only one thing to do. The Council has considered the possibilty that the planet may have achieved a stalemate, a kind of uneasy peace that balances just short of a nuclear war. Something of the sort you describe, though no one suggested the actual reasons you advance. But it’s something we can’t allow.”

“No, your Height?”

“No,” he seemed almost in pain. “The longer the stalemate continues, the greater the possibility that large-primate individuals may discover the methods of interstellar travel. They will leak out into the Galaxy, in full competitive strength. You see?”

“Then?”

The Arch-administrator hunched his head deeper into his arms, as though not wishing to hear what he himself must say. His voice was a little muffled. “If they are balanced precariously, we must push them a little, Captain. We must push them.”

Devi-en’s stomach churned and he suddenly tasted his dinner once more in the back of his throat. “Push them, your Height?” He didn’t want to understand.

But the Arch-administrator put it bluntly, “We must help them start their nuclear war.” He looked as miserably sick as Devi-en felt. He whispered, “We must!”

Devi-en could scarcely speak. He said, in a whisper, “But how could such a thing be done, your Height?”

“I don’t know how.—And do not look at me so. It is not my decision. It is the decision of the Council. Surely you understand what would happen to the Galaxy if a large-primate intelligence were to enter space in full strength without having been tamed by nuclear war.”

Devi-en shuddered at the thought. All that competitiveness loosed on the Galaxy. He persisted though. “But how does one start a nuclear war? How is it done?”

“I don’t know, I tell you. But there must be some way; perhaps a—a message we might send or a—a crucial rainstorm we might start by cloud-seeding. We could manage a great deal with their weather conditions—”

“How would that start a nuclear war?” said Devi-en, unimpressed.

“Maybe it wouldn’t. I mention such a thing only as a possible example. But large-primates would know. After all, they are the ones who do start nuclear wars in actual fact. It is in their brain-pattern to know. That is the decision the Council came to.”

Devi-en felt the soft noise his tail made as it thumped slowly against the chair. He tried to stop it and failed. “What decision, your Height?”

“To trap a large-primate from the planet’s surface. To kidnap one.”

“A wild one?”

“It’s the only kind that exists at the moment on the planet. Of course, a wild one.”

“And what do you expect him to tell us?”

“That doesn’t matter, Captain. As long as he says enough about anything, mentalic analysis will give us the answer.”

Devi-en withdrew his head as far as he could into the space between his shoulder blades. The skin just under his armpits quivered with repulsion. A wild large-primate being! He tried to picture one, untouched by the stunning aftermath of nuclear war, unaltered by the civilizing influence of Human eugenic breeding.

The Arch-administrator made no attempt to hide the fact that he shared the repulsion, but he said, “You will have to lead the trapping expedition, Captain. It is for the good of the Galaxy.”

Devi-en had seen the planet a number of times before but each time a ship swung about the Moon and placed the world in his line of sight a wave of unbearable homesickness swept him.

It was a beautiful planet, so like Hurria itself in dimensions and characteristics but wilder and grander. The sight of it, after the desolation of the Moon, was like a blow.

How many other planets like it were on Hurrian master listings at this moment, he wondered. How many other planets were there concerning which meticulous observers had reported seasonal changes in appearance that could be interpreted only as being caused by artificial cultivation of food plants? How many times in the future would a day come when the radioactivity in the stratosphere of one of these planets would begin to climb; when colonizing squadrons would have to be sent out at once?

—As they were to this planet.

It was almost pathetic, the confidence with which the Hurrians had proceeded at first. Devi-en could have laughed as he read through those initial reports, if he weren’t trapped in this project himself now. The Hurrian scoutships had moved close to the planet to gather geographical information, to locate population centers. They were sighted, of course, but what did it matter? Any time, now, they thought, the final explosion.

Any time—But useless years passed and the scoutships wondered if they ought not to be cautious. They moved back.

Devi-en’s ship was cautious now. The crew was on edge because of the unpleasantness of the mission; not all Devi-en’s assurances that there was no harm intended to the large-primate could quite calm them. Even so, they could not hurry matters. It had to be over a fairly deserted and uncultivated tract of uneven ground that they hovered. They stayed at a height of ten miles for days, while the crew became edgier and only the ever-stolid Mauvs maintained calm.

Then the scope showed them a creature, alone on the uneven ground, a long staff in one hand, a pack across the upper portion of his back.

They lowered silently, supersonically. Devi-en himself, skin crawling, was at the controls.

The creature was heard to say two definite things before he was taken, and they were the first comments recorded for use in mentalic computing.

The first, when the large-primate caught sight of the ship almost upon him, was picked up by the direction telemike. It was, “My God! A flying saucer!”