Isaac Asimov: Lucky Starr And The Rings Of Saturn

Back at Port Center, International City, Earth, Chief Councilman Hector Conway waited to leave for Vesta. He had not heard directly from Lucky since The Shooting Starr had moved into the shadow of Hidalgo.

The capsule brought in by Captain Bernold had been specific enough in its curt way and had been marked by Lucky's usual hard common sense. A call for a conference had been the only way out. The President had seen that at once, and though some members of the cabinet were bellicose about matters, they had been overruled.

Even Sirius (quite as Lucky had predicted) had adopted the notion eagerly. It was, obviously, exactly what the Sirian government wanted, a conference that was sure to fail, followed by a war on their own terms. To all outward appearances, they had all the cards.

It was that very fact that had made it so necessary to keep as much as possible from the public. If all details were put on the sub-ether without careful preparation, an indignant public might howl Earth's government irresistibly into war against all the Galaxy. The call for a conference would only make matters worse, since it would be interpreted as a cowardly sell-out to the Sirians.

And yet complete secrecy was impossible, too, and the press was angry and rebellious at being fed diluted government reports. Things were worsening daily.

The President would have to hold out somehow until the conference could take place. And yet, if the conference failed, the present situation would be honey-sweet compared to that which would come.

In the general indignation that would follow, there would be not only war, but the Council of Science would be completely discredited and destroyed, and the Terrestrial Federation would lose its most powerful weapon just when it needed it most.

It had been weeks since Hector Conway had slept without pills, and for the first time in his career he thought earnestly that he should be retiring.

He rose heavily and made his way forward to the ship now being readied for the launching. In a week he would be on Vesta for preliminary discussions with Doremo. That old pink-eyed statesman would be holding the balance of power. There was no doubting that. The very weakness of his small world was what made him powerful. He was the nearest thing to an honest and disinterested neutral in the Galaxy, and even the Sirians would listen to him.

If Conway could get his ear to begin with…

He was scarcely aware of the man approaching to stop him until there was a near collision.

"Eh? What is this?" demanded Conway in annoyance.

The man touched the brim of his hat. "Jan Dieppe of Trans-sub-etheric, Chief. I wonder if you would answer a few questions?"

"No, no. I'm ready to board ship."

"I realize that, sir. It's the very reason Fm stopping you. I won't get another chance. You're heading out for Vesta, of course."

"Yes, of course."

"To see about the outrage on Saturn."

"Well?"

"What do you expect the conference to do, Chief? Do you suppose Sirius will listen to resolutions and votes?"

"Yes, I think Sirius will."

"Do you think the votes will go against her?"

"I'm sure they will. Now may I pass?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's something very important just now that Earth's people must know about."

"Please. Don't tell me what you think they must know. I assure you that the good of Earth's people is close to my heart."

"And is that why the Council of Science is willing to allow foreign governments to vote on whether or not the Terrestrial Federation's territory has been invaded? A question that should be reserved to our own decision alone?"

Conway could not fail to note the undercurrent of threat in the other's outwardly polite but persistent questioning. He looked over the reporter's shoulder and could see the Secretary of State talking to a group of other newsmen at a point closer to the ship.

He said, "What are you getting at?"

"The public is questioning the good faith of the Council, I'm afraid, Chief. And in that connection, Trans-sub-ether has picked up a Sirian news broadcast that it has not yet made public. We need your comments on it."

"No comments. A Sirian news broadcast designed for home consumption is not worth comment."

"This report was quite circumstantial. For instance, where is Councilman David Starr, the legendary Lucky, himself? Where is he?"

"What?"

"Come on now, Chief. I know the Council's agents dislike publicity, but has Councilman Starr been sent to Saturn on a secret mission?"

"Now if that were so, young man, would you expect me to talk about it?"

"Yes, if Sirius were already talking about it. It's no secret to them. They say Lucky Starr invaded the Sa-turnian system and was captured. Is that true?"

Conway said stiffly, "I do not know the present whereabouts of Councilman David Starr."

"Does that mean he might be in the Saturnian system?"

"It means that I do not know his whereabouts."

The reporter's nose wrinkled. "All right. If you think it sounds better to have the Chief of the Council of Science deny that he knows the whereabouts of one of his important agents, that's your business. But the general mood of the public is increasingly anti-Council. There is considerable talk of the Council's inefficiency in letting Sinus get to Saturn in the first place and its interest in whitewashing the whole affair for the sake of their political skins."

"You are being insulting. Good day, sir."

"The Sirians are quite definite that Lucky Starr has been captured in the Saturnian system. Any comment on that?"

"No. Let me pass."

"The Sirians say that Lucky Starr will be at the conference."

"Oh?" For a moment Conway could not conceal a spasm of interest.

"That seems to get you, Chief. The only catch is that the Sirians say he'll be testifying for them."

Conway said with difficulty, "That remains to be seen."

"Do you admit he'll be at the conference?"

"I know nothing about that."

The reporter stepped aside. "All right, Chief. It's just that the Sirians say that Starr has already given them valuable information and that the Sirians will be able to convict us of aggression on the basis of it. I mean, what's the Council doing? Fighting with us or against us?"

Conway, feeling unbearably harried, muttered, "No comment," and started to pass by.

The reporter called after him. "Starr is your adopted son, isn't he, Chief?"

For a moment Conway turned back. Then, without a word, he hastened on to the ship.

What was there to say? What could he say except that ahead of him lay an interstellar conference more crucial for Earth than any meeting of any sort in its history? That this conference was weighted heavily on the side of Sinus. That chances were almost intolerably great that peace, the Council of Science, the Terrestrial Federation would all be destroyed.

And that only the thin shield of Lucky's efforts protected them.

Somehow, what depressed Conway more than anything else-more, even, than a lost war-was the thought that if the Sirian news report were true and if the conference nevertheless failed despite Lucky's original intentions, Lucky would go down in history as Earth's arch-traitor! And only a few would ever know better.

The Secretary of State, Lament Finney, was a career politician who had served some fifteen years in the legislature and whose relations with the Council of Science had never been overwhelmingly friendly. He was aging now, not in the best of health, and inclined to be querulous. Officially he headed the Terrestrial delegation to Vesta. In actuality, though, Conway understood quite well that he, himself, as head of the Council, must be prepared to take full responsibility for failure-if there was failure.