Robert Heinlein - Between Planets

"Ask me after I've studied the message," the dragon commented dryly.

Don made no comment. There was silence for some moments which Costello broke by saying, "Well? Do you want to ask anything? I do not know quite what you do know; I hardly know what to volunteer."

"Mr. Costello, when I talked to you in New London, did you know about this message?"

Costello shook his head. "I knew that our organization had great hopes from an investigation going on on Earth. I knew that it was intended to finish on Mars-you see, I was the key man, the `drop box,' for communication to and from Venus, because I was in a position to handle interplanetary messages. I did not know that you were a courier-and I certainly did not know that you had entrusted an organization message to my only daughter." He smiled wryly. "I might add that I did not even identify you in my mind as the son of two members of our organization, else there would have been no question about handling your traffic whether you could pay for it or not. There were means whereby I could spot organization messages-identifications that your message lacked. And Harvey is a fairly common name."

"You know," Don said slowly, "it seems to me that if Dr. Jefferson had told me what it was I was carrying-and if you had trusted Isobel here with some idea of what was going on, a lot of trouble could have been saved."

"Perhaps. But men have died for knowing too much. Conversely, what they don't know they can't tell."

"Yes, I suppose so. But there ought to be some way of running things so that people don't have to go around loaded with secrets and afraid to speak!"

Both the dragon and the man inclined their heads. Mr. Costello added, "That's exactly what we're after-in the long run. That sort of a world."

Don turned to his host. "Sir Isaac, when we met in the E Glory Road, did you know that Dr. Jefferson was using me C as a messenger?"

"No, Donald-though I should have suspected it when I learned who you were." He paused, then added, "Is there anything more you wish to know?"

"No, I just want to think." Too many things had happened too fast, too many new ideas- Take what Mr. Costello had said about what was in the ring, now-he could see what that would mean-if Costello knew what he was talking about. A fast space drive, one that would run rings around the Federation ships... a way to guard against atom bombs, even fusion bombs-Why, if the Republic had such things they could tell the Federation to go fly a kite!

But that so-and-so Phipps had admitted that all this hanky-panky was not for the purpose of fighting the Greenies. They wanted to send the stuff to Mars, whatever it was. Why Mars? Mars didn't even have a permanent human settlement-just scientific commissions and expeditions, like the work his parents did. The place wasn't fit for humans, not really. So why Mars?

Whom could he trust? Isobel, of course-he had trusted her and it had paid off. Her father? Isobel and her father were two different people and Isobel didn't know anything about what her father was doing. He looked at her; she stared back with big, serious eyes. He looked at her father. He didn't know, he just didn't know.

Malath? A voice out of a tank! Phipps? Phipps might be kind to children and have a heart of gold, but Don had no reason to trust him.

To be sure, all these people knew about Dr. Jefferson, knew about the ring, seemed to know about his parents-but so had Bankfield. He needed proof, not words. He knew enough now, enough had happened now, to prove to him that what he carried was of utmost importance. He must not make a mistake.

It occurred to him that there was one possible way of checking: Phipps had told him that Malath carried the other half of the same message-that the ring carried only one half. If it turned out that his half fitted the part that Malath carried, it would pretty well prove that these people had a right to the message.

But, confound it all!-that test required him to break the egg to discover that it was bad. He had to know before he turned it over to them. He had met the two-piece message system before; it was a standard military dodgebut used and used only when it was so terribly, terribly important not to let a message be compromised that you would rather not have it delivered than take any risk at all of having it fall into the wrong hands.

He looked up at the dragon. "Sir Isaac?"

"Yes, Donald?"

"What would happen if I refused to give up the ring?"

Sir Isaac answered at once but with grave deliberation. "You are my own egg, no matter what. This is your housewhere you may dwell in peace-or leave in peace-as is your will."

"Thank you, Sir Isaac." Don trilled it in dragon symbols-and used "Sir Isaac's" true name.

Costello said urgently, "Mr. Harvey--"

"Yes?"

"Do you know why the speech of the dragon people is ? called 'true speech'?"

"Uh, why, no, not exactly."

"Because it is true speech. See here-I've studied comparative semanticsthe whistling talk does not even contain a symbol for the concept of falsehood. And what a person does not have symbols for he can't think about! Ask him, Mr. Harveyl Ask him in his own speech. If he answers at all, you can believe him."

Donald looked at the old dragon. The thought went racing through his mind that Costello was right-there was no symbol in dragon speech for "lie," the dragons apparently never had arrived at the idea-or the need. Could Sir Isaac tell a lie? Or was he so far humanized that he could behave and think like a man? He stared at Sir Isaac and eight blank, oscillating eyes looked back at him. How could a man know what a dragon was thinking?

"Ask himl" insisted Costello.

He didn't trust Phipps; he couldn't logically trust Costello-he had no reason to. And Isobel didn't figure into it. But a man had to trust somebody, some time! A man couldn't go it alone-all right, let it be this dragon who had "shared mud" with him. "It isn't necessary," Don said suddenly. "Here." He reached into his pocket, took out the ring and slipped it over one of Sir Isaac's tentacles.

The tentacle curled through it and withdrew it into the slowly writhing mass. "I thank you, Mist-on-the-Waters."

DONALD looked at Isobel and found her still solemn, unsmiling, but she seemed to show approval. Her father sat down heavily in the other chair. "Phew!" he sighed "Mr. Harvey, you are a hard nut. You had me worried."

"I'm sorry. I had to think."

"No matter now." He turned to Sir Isaac. "I guess I had better dig up Phipps. Yes?"

"It won't be necessary." The voice came from behind them; they all turned all but Sir Isaac who did not need to turn his body. Phipps stood just inside the door. "I came in on the tail end of your remark, Jim. If you want me, I'm here."

"Well, yes."

"Just a moment, then. I came for another reason." He faced Don. "Mr. Harvey, I owe you an apology."

"Oh, that's all right."

"No, let me say my say. I had no business trying to bullyrag you into cooperating. Don't mistake me; we want that ring-we must have it. And I mean to argue until we get it. But I've been under great strain and I went about it the wrong way. Very great strain-that's my only excuse."

"Well," said Don, "come to think about it, so have I. So let's forget it." He turned to his host. "Sir Isaac, may I?" He reached toward Sir Isaac's handling tentacles, putting out his palm. The ring dropped into it; he turned and handed it to Phipps.

Phipps stared at it stupidly for a moment. When he looked up Don was surprised to see that the man's eyes were filled with tears. "I won't thank you," he said, "because when you see what will come of this it will mean more to you than any person's thanks. What is in this ring is of life and death importance to many, many people. You'll see."