Гарри Гаррисон - Planet Of No Return

“You will be silent!” Hegedus ordered, jumping to his feet. “You are under military jurisdiction right now. You may be offworlders — but speaking treason is still a punishable crime. What you have said up to now will be ignored. But you have now been warned. Any future remarks will be punished. Do you understand?”

“We understand,” Brion said calmly. “In the future we will keep our thoughts to ourselves. Please accept our apology. It was ignorance, not malice, I assure you.”

Lea started to protest — then realized what Brion was doing and stayed silent. Words were not going to stop these martial madmen. They actually lived in a military and jingoist idea of heaven. Wave the flag, my country right or wrong, build up the armament industries, repeal all civil rights — and go to war forever! The generals ruled and they were never going to voluntarily step down from the seat of power. With this realization came the understanding as well that they both were prisoners here. Antagonizing their captors would be the equivalent of committing suicide. Brion’s words echoed her thoughts.

“Since you are winding down the war on Selm-II, you must have plans to continue the conflict somewhere else.”

Hegedus nodded, taking a kerchief from his side pocket and patting his head with it. “Another planet has been selected from the records of the original searchers. Conferences are now taking place at the highest level in both countries, and arrangements are being made to transfer the operation there.”

“Then we are no longer needed here,” Brion said, climbing to his feet. “I assume that we can return to Selm-II now.”

Hegedus looked at him coldly, then shook his head.

“You will remain where you are. Your case is under consideration of the military authorities now.”

“What jurisdiction do your military authorities have over us?” Brion said.

Hegedus’s composure had returned. “Come, Brion, I explained that fully not a few minutes ago. This country is at war. Martial law prevails. You were found in a war zone, tampering with a vital piece of military equipment. Be happy that we are a civilized people and did not have you shot on the spot.”

“And what is your reason for holding me?” Lea asked. “Your thugs dropped grenades on me, then kidnapped me. Is that what ‘civilized people’ do?”

“Yes. When you are on a spying mission in a war zone. But, please, let us not quarrel. Consider yourselves our guests for the time being. Privileged guests, for you are the first offworlders to ever have set foot upon our planet. Though we have our political differences, Gyongyos and Opole are in complete agreement about one thing. There is a complete ban on offworld contact. We both sought refuge here from the wars of the Breakdown. The rest of the inhabited galaxy has nothing to offer us.”

“The wars have been over for a thousand years,” Brion said. “Aren’t you being a little paranoid?”

“Not in the slightest. We are complete unto ourselves here. We need nothing from the outside. But outside influence might bring pressures, insidious political movements that might destroy our happy way of life. It is a gamble that we can only lose. Therefore we maintain a strict no-contact policy. Now, if you will excuse me. Sergeant.”

The door opened the instant he had spoken the words and the Sergeant came in, stamping his heavy boots as he came to attention. Brion recognized that stern, military face. He was the same man who had led the squad that captured him. Hegedus went to the door.

“The Sergeant will stay with you until I return. Ask him for anything you might need. You should be getting hungry by now.”

Brion was scarcely aware that Hegedus had left, for the mention of hunger had brought the sudden realization to him that he was famished. He felt as though it had been weeks since last he ate. Hunger had been forgotten in the rush of events — but it sprang upon him now like a ravenous animal: his stomach growled loudly.

“Sergeant — can you get us some food?”

“Yes, sir. What would you like?”

“Do you have steaks on this planet?”

“We’re not uncivilized — of course we do. And beer as well …”

“For two if you don’t mind,” Lea said. “Rare. I want to forget completely about dehydrated protein rations for as long as I can.”

The Sergeant nodded and spoke a quick order into his helmet microphone. Brion felt his gastric juices surging against his stomach wall. The few minutes that passed before the meal arrived seemed like hours. A soldier came in with the large tray, set it on the table and left. They attacked the food.

“Best steak I have ever had,” Brion mumbled around a giant mouthful.

“Not to mention the best beer,” Lea said, sighing as she lowered the frosted glass. “You people ought to run tours to this place from the vegetarian planets. Show them what good food is like,”

“Yes, m’am,” the Sergeant replied, eyes firmly front, his jaw set and stern. “Why don’t you join us in a beer?” Brion said.

“Not on duty.” Voice toneless, eyes never moving from the far wall.

“What did you do before you went into the army, Sergeant?” Lea asked, nibbling delicately on her food now that the first rush of hunger had been removed. Brion looked at her out of the corners of his eyes and nodded slightly.

“Always been in the army.”

“And the rest of your family? In the army too — or perhaps working in factories …” The question seemed harmless enough; but the Sergeant knew better. He moved his eyes just enough to glower down at Lea, then looked back to the wall.

“No discussions while on duty.”

End of conversation. But Lea would not be put off. “All right, no discussions. But can you tell us about the war? Do you supervise it or watch it or anything?”

“Military secret, not to be discussed. But everyone on Arao watches the war. On television every day, all day, very popular too. People bet on different results. Very exciting for everyone.”

“I’m sure that it is,” Brion said. What was it he had read in a history book once about bread and circuses? “I don’t wish to pry, and of course you won’t answer if it is a military secret. But do both countries on this planet use the same DMT facility to reach Selm-II? The one where you picked me up.”

The Sergeant gave him a cold penetrating look while he made his mind up. “No military secret there. Same facility used by both. Accurate check made that way to see that disarmament is equilateral at all times.”

“Then what is there to stop one side — the enemy of course — from lying in wait outside to ambush your forces as they emerge?”

“Milneutzone, sir. Known about by everyone who watches television. Coded radio broadcasts prevent any weapons of war from being used within a thirty mile radius of the Delta Beacon. A military neutralized zone.”

“That explains it,” Brion said. “Coming up the valley towards the beacon I confronted a tank with a broken tread. Otherwise it was fully operational. It aimed its guns at me — but never fired. Is that your milneutzone?”

“Probably, sir. Guns won’t fire inside thirty miles.”

“Did you ever wish that war would end so you …”

“No more questions!” The Sergeant barked the words loudly and harshly. The conversation was obviously at an end. They finished the meal in silence. Had just finished when Hegedus returned. The Sergeant snapped to attention, turned and left.

“I sincerely hope that you enjoyed your food

“That’s enough!” Brion’s voice was as rough as the Sergeant’s. “No politeness. Just tell us what happened.”

Hegedus extended this little moment of torture by crossing the room and sitting down before he spoke. After first crossing his legs and smoothing a crease from his trousers.