Isaac Asimov - Pebble In The Sky

"Very well, Brother. I am thankful you are safe."

He was ushered out.

The colonel said curtly, "We will see that you leave here safely as soon as matters in the city have returned to normal. Thank you for your co-operation in this matter just concluded."

Arvardan was again on his feet. "I forbid it. You will let loose this would-be murderer of the human race while forbidding me an interview with the Procurator when that would be simply in accord with my rights as a Galactic citizen." Then, in a paroxysm of frustration, "Will you show more consideration to an Barthman dog than you will to me?"

The Secretary's voice sounded over that last near-incoherent rage. "Colonel, I will gladly remain until such time as my case is heard by the Procurator, if that is what this man wants. An accusation of treason is serious, and the suspicion of it-however farfetched-may be sufficient to ruin my usefulness to my people. I would really appreciate the opportunity to prove to the Procurator that none is more loyal to the Empire than myself."

The colonel said stiffly, "I admire your feelings, sir, and freely admit that were I in your place my attitude would be quite different. You are a credit to your race, sir. I will attempt contact with the Procurator."

Arvardan said nothing more until led back to his cell.

He avoided the glance of the others. For a long time he sat motionless, with a knuckle pinched between gnawing teeth.

Until Shekt said, "Well?"

Arvardan shook his head. "I just about ruined everything."

"What did you do?"

"Lost my temper; offended the colonel; got nowhere-I'm no diplomat, Shekt."

He felt riven with the sudden urge for self-defense. "What could I do?" he cried. "Balkis had already been to the colonel, so that I couldn't trust him. What if he'd been offered his life? What if he's been in on the plot all along? I know it's a wild thought, but I couldn't take the chance. It was too suspicious. I wanted to see Ennius himself."

The physicist was on his feet, withered hands clasped behind his back. "Well, then-is Ennius coming?"

"I suppose so. But it is only at Balkis's own request, and that I don't understand."

"Balkis's own request? Then Schwartz must be right."

"Yes? What has Schwartz been saying?"

The plump Earthman was sitting on his cot. He shrugged his shoulders when the eyes turned to him and spread out his hands in a helpless gesture. "I caught the Secretary's Mind Touch when they took him past our room just now. He's definitely had a long talk with this officer you talked to."

"I know."

"But there's no treason in that officer's mind."

"Well," miserably, "then I guessed wrong. I'll eat worms when Ennius comes. What about Balkis?"

"There's no worry or fear in his mind; only hate. And now it's mostly hate for us, for capturing him, for dragging him here. We've wounded his vanity horribly, and he intends to square it with us. I saw little daydream pictures in his mind. Of himself, singlehanded, preventing the entire Galaxy from doing anything to stop him even while we, with our knowledge, work against him. He's giving us the odds, the trumps, and then he'll smash us anyway and triumph over us."

"You mean that he will risk his plans, his dreams of Empire, just to vent a little spite at us? That's mad."

"I know," said Schwartz with finality. "He is mad."

"And he thinks he'll succeed?"

"That's right."

"Then we must have you, Schwartz. We'll need your mind. Listen to me-"

But Shekt was shaking his head. "No, Arvardan, we couldn't work that. 1 woke Schwartz when you left and we discussed the matter. His mental powers, which he can describe only dimly, are obviously not under perfect control. He can stun a man, or paralyze him, or even kill him. Better than that, he can control the larger voluntary muscles even against the subject's will, but no more than that. In the case of the Secretary, he couldn't make the man talk. the small muscles about the vocal cords being beyond him. He couldn't co-ordinate motion well enough to have the Secretary drive a car; he even balanced him while walking only with difficulty. Obviously, then, we couldn't control Ennius, for instance, to the point of having him issue an order, or write one. I've thought of that, you see…" Shekt shook his head as his voice trailed away.

Arvardan felt the desolation of futility descend upon him. Then, with a sudden pang of anxiety, "Where's Pola?"

"She's sleeping in the alcove."

He would have longed to wake her-longed-Oh, longed a lot of things.

Arvardan looked at his watch. It was almost midnight, and there were only thirty hours left.

He slept for a while after that, then woke for a while, as it grew light again. No one approached, and a man's very soul grew haggard and pale.

Arvardan looked at his watch. It was almost midnight, and there were only six hours left.

He looked about him now in a dazed and hopeless way. They were all here now-even the Procurator, at last. Pola was next to him, her warm little fingers on his wrist and that look of fear and exhaustion on her face that more than anything else infuriated him against all the Galaxy.

Maybe they all deserved to die, the stupid, stupid-stupid- He scarcely saw Shekt and Schwartz. They sat on his left. And there was Balkis, the damnable Balkis, with his lips still swollen, one cheek green, so that it must hurt like the devil to talk-and Arvardan's own lips stretched into a furious, aching smile at the thought and his fists clenched and writhed. His own bandaged cheek ached less at the thought.

Facing all of them was Ennius, frowning, uncertain, almost ridiculous, dressed as he was in those heavy, shapeless, leadimpregnated clothes.

And he was stupid, too. Arvardan felt a thrill of hatred shoot through him at the thought of these Galactic trimmers who wanted only peace and ease. Where were the conquerors of three centuries back? Where?…

Six hours left- Ennius had received the call from the Chica garrison some eighteen hours before and he had streaked half around the planet at the summons. The motives that led him to that were obscure but nonetheless forceful. Essentially, he told himself, there was nothing to the matter but a regrettable kidnaping of one of those green-robed curiosities of superstitious, hagridden Earth. That, and these wild and undocumented accusations. Nothing, certainly, that the colonel on the spot could not have handled.

And yet there was Shekt-Shekt was in this-And not as the accused, but as an accuser. It was confusing.

He sat now facing them, thinking, quite conscious that his decision in this case might hasten a rebellion, perhaps weaken his own position at court, ruin his chances at advancement-As for Arvardan's long speech just now about virus strains and unbridled epidemics, how seriously could he take it? After all. if he took action on the basis of it, how credible would the matter sound to his superiors?

And yet Arvardan was an archaeologist of note.

So he postponed the matter in his mind by saying to the Secretary, "Surely you have something to say in this matter?"

"Surprisingly little," said the Secretary with easy confidence. "I would like to ask what evidence exists for supporting the accusation?"

"Your Excellency," said Arvardan with snapping patience, "I have already told you that the man admitted it in every detail at the time of our imprisonment day before yesterday."

"Perhaps," said the Secretary, "you choose to credit that, Your Excellency, but it is simply an additional unsupported statement. Actually the only facts to which outsiders can bear witness to are that I was the one violently taken prisoner, not they; that it was my life that was in peril, not theirs. Now I would like my accuser to explain how he could find all this out in the nine weeks that he has been on the planet, when you, the Procurator, in years of service here, have found nothing to my disadvantage?"