Security, Page 2

just a state of emergency which has lastedunusually long, seventy-two years to be exact. If we hadn't lost WorldWar III, and needed a powerful remilitarization to overthrow the Sovietworld--but we did." Berg took out a pack of cigarettes. "Smoke? I wasjust trying to explain to you why the subversives are so dangerous. Theyhave to be, or they wouldn't stand any kind of chance. When you set outto upset something as big as the United States government, it's an allor nothing proposition. They've had a long time now to organize, andthere's a huge percentage of malcontents to help them out."

  "Malcontents? Well, look, Berg--I mean, you're the expert and of courseyou know your business, but a natural human grumble at conditionsdoesn't mean revolutionary sentiments. These aren't such bad times.People have work, and their needs are supplied. They aren't hankering tohave the Hemispheric Wars back again."

  "The standard revolutionary argument," said Berg patiently, "is that therebels aren't trying to overthrow the nation at all, but simply torestore constitutional and libertarian government. It's commonknowledge that they have help and some subsidies from outside, but it'scontended that these are merely countries tired of a world dominated byan American dictatorship and, being small Latin-American and Europeanstates, couldn't possibly think of conquering us. Surely you've seensubversive literature."

  "Well, yes. Can't help finding their pamphlets. All over the place.And--" Lancaster closed his mouth. No, damned if he was going to admitthat he knew three co-workers who listened to rebel propagandabroadcasts. Those were silly, harmless kids--why get them in trouble,maybe get them sent to camp?

  * * * * *

  "You probably don't appreciate the hold that kind of argument has on alltoo many intellectuals--and a lot of the common herd, too," said Berg."Naturally you wouldn't--if your attitude has always been unsympathetic,these people aren't going to confide their thoughts to you. And thenthere are bought men, and spies smuggled in, and--oh, I needn'telaborate. It's enough to say that we've been thoroughly infiltrated,and that most of their agents have absolutely impeccable dossiers. Wecan't give neoscop to everybody, you know--Security has to rely on spotchecks and the testing of key personnel. Only when organizations get asbig as they are today, there's apt to be no real key man, and a fewspies strategically placed in the lower echelons can pick-up a hell of alot of information. Then there are the colonists out on the planets--ourhold on them has always necessarily been loose, because oftransportation and communication difficulties if nothing else. And, as Isay, foreign powers. A little country like Switzerland or Denmark orVenezuela can't do much by itself, but an undercover internationalpooling of resources.... Anyway, we have reason to believe in theexistence of a large, well financed, well organized underground, withtrained fighting men, big secret weapons dumps, and saboteurs ready forthe word 'go'--to say nothing of a restless population and any number ofcovert sympathizers who'd follow if the initial uprising had goodresults."

  "Or bad, depending on whose viewpoint you take," grinned the one-armedman.

  Lancaster put his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on shakinghands. "What has all this got to do with me?" he protested. "I'm notthe hero of some cloak-and-dagger spy story. I'm no good at undercoverstuff--what do you want of me?"

  "It's very simple," Berg replied quietly. "The balance of power is stillwith the government, because it does have more of the really heavyweapons than any other group can possibly muster. Alphabet bombs,artillery, rockets, armor, spaceships and space missiles. You see? Onlyresearch has lately suggested that a new era in warfare is developing--anew weapon as decisive as the Macedonian phalanx, gunpowder, andaircraft were in their day." As Lancaster raised his eyes, he met analmost febrile glitter in Berg's gaze. "And _this_ weapon may reversethe trend. It may be the cheap and simple arm that anyone can make anduse--the equalizer! So we've got to develop it before the rebels do.They have laboratories of their own, and their skill at stealing oursecrets makes it impossible for us to trust the research to a Project inthe usual manner. The fewer who knew of this weapon, the better--becausein the wrong hands it could mean--Armageddon!"

  * * * * *

  The run from Earth was short, for the space laboratory wasn't far awayat the moment as interplanetary distances go. Lancaster wasn't toldanything about its orbit, but guessed that it had a path a million milesor so sunward from Earth and highly tilted with respect to the ecliptic.That made for almost perfect concealment, for what spaceship wouldnormally go much north or south of the region containing the planets?

  He was too preoccupied during the journey to estimate orbital figures,anyway. He had seen enough pictures of open space, and some of them hadbeen excellent. But the reality towered unbelievably over allrepresentations. There simply is no way of describing that nakedgrandeur, and when you have once experienced it you don't want to try.His companions--Berg and the one-armed Jessup, who piloted thespaceboat--respected his need for silence.

  The station had been painted non-reflecting black, which complicatedtemperature control but made accidental observation of its existencealmost impossible. It loomed against the cold glory of stars like a pitof ultimate darkness, and Jessup had to guide the boat in with radar.When the last lock had clanged shut behind him and he stood in a narrowmetal corridor, shut away from the sky, Lancaster felt a sense ofunendurable loss.

  It faded, and he grew aware of others watching him. There were half adozen people, a motley group dressed in any shabby garment they happenedto fancy, with no sign of the semi-military discipline of a Projectcrew. A Martian hovered in the background, and Lancaster didn't noticehim at first. Berg introduced the humans casually. There was a stockygray-haired man named Friedrichs, a lanky space-tanned young chap calledIsaacson, a middle-aged woman and her husband by the name of Dufrere, aquiet Oriental who answered to Hwang, and a red-haired woman presentedas Karen Marek. These, Berg explained, were the technicians who would behelping Lancaster. This end of the space station was devoted to the labsand factories; for security reasons, Lancaster couldn't be permitted togo elsewhere, but it was hoped he would be comfortable here.

  "Ummm--pardon me, aren't you a rather mixed group?" asked the physicist.

  "Yes, very," said Berg cheerfully. "The Dufreres are French, Hwang isChinese, and Karen here is Norwegian though her husband was Czech. Notto mention.... There you are, I didn't see you before! Dr. Lancaster,I'd like you to meet Rakkan of Thyle, Mars, a very accomplished labman."

  * * * * *

  Lancaster gulped, shifting his feet and looking awkwardly at the smallgray-feathered body and the beaked owl-face. Rakkan bowed politely,sparing Lancaster the decision of whether or not to shake the clawlikehand. He assumed Rakkan was somebody's slave--but since when did slavesact as social equals?

  "But you said this project was top secret!" he blurted.

  "Oh, it is," smiled Karen Marek. She had a husky, pleasant voice, andwhile she was a little too thin to be really good-looking, she was castin a fine mold and her eyes were large and gray and lovely. "I assureyou, non-Americans are perfectly capable of preserving a secret. More sothan most Americans, really--we don't have ties on Earth. No one to blabto."

  "It's not well known today, but the original Manhattan Project thatconstructed the first atomic bombs had quite an internationalcharacter," said Berg. "It even included German, Italian, and Hungarianelements though the United States was at war with those countries."

  "Come along and we'll get you settled in your quarters," invitedIsaacson.

  Lancaster followed him down the long hallways, rather dazed with thewhole business. He noticed that the space station had a crude,unfinished look, as if it had been hastily thrown together from whatevermaterials were available. That didn't ring true for a governmententerprise, no matter how secret.

  Berg seemed to read his thought again. "We've worked under severehandicaps," he said. "Look, just suppose a lot of valuable material andequipment were ferried into space. If it's an ordin
ary government deal,you know how many light-years of red tape are involved. Requisitionshave to be filled out in triplicate, every last rivet has to beaccounted for--there'd simply have been too much chance of a rebel spygetting a lead on us. It was safer all around to use whatever chancematerials could be obtained from salvage or through individual purchaseson other planets. Ever hear of the _Waikiki_?"

  "Ummm--seems so--wasn't she the big freighter that disappeared manyyears ago?"

  "That's the one. A meteor swarm struck her on the way to Venus.Furthermore, one of them shorted out her engine