III.
Guy Maynard, the Terran, became steeped in Ertinian lore. He went at it with the same intensity that he went at anything else, and possibly driven with the heart-chilling thought that he might not be able to convince Ertene that Sol had a place for her. He saw that possibility, and prayed against it, yet he realized that Ertene was a planet of her own mind and that they might decide against alliance. It was a selling job he had to do.
And if not—
Guy Maynard would have to remain on Ertene. Therefore in either case it would serve him best to become as Ertinian as possible. He did not believe that they would exile him—that would be dangerous. Nor did he believe that death would accompany his failure to convince Ertene of their place around Sol. The obvious course in case of failure would be to permit him the freedom of the planet; to become in effect, an Ertinian.
He'd be under watch, of course. Escape would prove dangerous for their integrity. Imprisonment was not impossible, but he hoped that his failure to convince would not be so sorry as to have them suspect him.
Of course, an opportunity to escape would be taken, unless he gave his word of honor. Yet, he had sworn the oath of an officer in Terra's space fleet, and that oath compelled him to serve Terra in spite of danger, death, or dishonor to self. He must not give his parole—
Guy fought himself over that problem for days and days. It led him in circular thinking, the outlet to which would be evident only when he found out the Ertinian reaction. Too much depended on that trend; there were too many if's standing between him and any plan for the future.
He forgot his mental whirl in study. He investigated Ertinian science and tucked a number of items away in his memory. He visited the observatory and after a number of visits he plotted Ertene in the celestial sphere within a few hundred thousand miles. That, too, he filed away in his memory along with the course of the wanderer.
He learned that his place of convalescence was no hospital, but Thomakein's estate. It staggered him. Thomakein was—must be—a veritable dynamo of energetic mentality to have the variety of interests as reflected in the trappings about the estate. The huge library, the observatory, the laboratories. How many of the things he saw and studied were Thomakein's personal property he would never know; though he did know that some of them came from museums and institutes across the planet.
He wondered about Thomakein. He had never seen his saviour since his mind had come back. He recalled vague things, but nothing cogent. He asked Charalas about Thomakein.
"Thomakein's main problem is Sol," explained Charalas. "A problem which you have made easy for him. However, he is on the derelict, studying the findings there. A warship is a most interesting museum of the present, you know. Often things of less than perfect operation are there; things that will eventually become perfected and established into private use. It is almost a museum of the future. Thomakein will learn much there and he has been commissioned to remain on the derelict until he has catalogued every item on it."
"Lone life, isn't it?" asked Guy.
"He has friends. Last I heard from him, he had sealed the usable portion of the derelict against the void, and was turning the course to bring it toward Ertene. Eventually the wreck will circle Ertene. Perhaps we may attempt to land it here."
"It'll be a nice museum piece," said Guy, "but it will not endear you to those of Mars."
"I know. Of course if we accept Sol's offer, we will destroy it completely."
"Keep it," said Guy, shrugging his shoulders. "Ertene will find little in common with Mars. It will be Terra and Ertene; together we will form the nucleus of Solar power."
"So?"
"Naturally. Ertene and Terra are the most alike, even to the flora and fauna."
"I see."
Charalas let the matter drop as he did before. Guy tried to open the line of thought again, but met with no success. It was not a matter of indifference to Guy's arguments, but more a complete disinclination to make any sort of statement prior to the decision of the Council of Ertene. Realizing that this decision was one of the single-try variety, Guy studied hard during the next few days. There would be no appeal even though he tried to get another hearing during the rest of his life.
He wondered how soon it would be.
Charalas landed on Thomakein's estate in a small flier and asked Guy if he would like to see the famous Hall of History. They flew a quarter of the way around the planet, and during the trip, Charalas pointed out scenes of interest. It was enlightening to Guy, who hadn't seen anything beyond a few miles of Thomakein's estate. There were farms laid out on the production-line scale while the cities and towns that housed the farmers were sprawling, rustic villages of simple beauty. The larger cities had evolved from the square-block and rubber-stamp home kind to specialized aggregations in which the central, business sections were close-knit while the residences were widespread and well apart, giving each family adequate breathing room.
"The railroad," smiled Charalas, "is still with us. It will never leave, because shipments of heavy machinery of low necessity can be transported cheaper that way. Like the barges that ply the rivers with coal, ore, and grain, they are powered with adaptations of the space drive, but they are none the less barges or trains."
"They've found that, too," laughed Guy. "There is little economic value in trying to ship a million tons of coal by flier."
"Normally, you should say. The slowest conveyor system is rapid if the conveyor is always filled and the material is not perishable. Coal and ore have been here for eons. Therefore it is no hardship to wait for six weeks while a given ton of ore gets across the continent, provided that the user can remove a ton of ore from the conveying system simultaneously with the placement of another ton that will not get there for six weeks."
"Sounds correct, though I've never thought of it in that manner," said Guy thoughtfully. "But that must be why it is done. We hull ore across space untended, and in pre-calculated orbits, picking it up at Terra from Pluto, for instance. The driverless and crewless hull is packed with ore, towed into space by a space tug and set into its orbit, the tug then returning to the shipping area to await the next hull. The hull may take a couple of years to get to Terra, but when it does, it begins to emit a finder-signal and Terran space tugs pick the hull up and lower it to Terra. The hulls are returned with unperishable supplies to the Plutonian miners."
"We hadn't the necessity of applying that thought to space shipping," answered Charalas. "Tonis, the larger moon, is so close that special shipping methods are not needed. We have but a few colonists there, most of which are members of the laboratory staff."
"You've found moon laboratories essential in space work, too?" asked Guy.
"Naturally. Tonis is airless and upon it is the Ertinian astronomical laboratory."
"Moons—even sterile moons—are good for that," said Guy. "They—Say, Charalas, what is that collection of buildings below here? They look like something extra-special."
"They are. That is the place we're going to see."
Charalas put the flier into a steep dive and landed in the open space between the buildings. They entered the long, low building at the end opposite the most ornate building of the seven that surrounded the landing area and Charalas told the receptionist that they were expected.
The long hall was excellently illuminated, and on either side of the corridor were murals; great twelve-foot panels of rare color and of photographic detail. Upon close examination they proved to be paintings.
The first panel showed an impression of the formation of Ertene, along with the other eleven planets of Ertene's parent sun. It was colorful, and impressionistic in character rather than an attempt to portray the actual cataclysm that formed the planets. The next few panels were of geologic interest, giving the impressions of Ertene through the long, geologic periods. There were dinosaur-picturizations next, and the panels brought them forward in irregular steps through the carboniferous; through the glacial ages; through the dawn ages; and finally into the coming of man to power.
The next fourteen panels were used in the rise of man on Ertene from the early ages to full, efficient civilization. They were similar to a possible attempt to portray a similar period on Terra, showing wars, life in the cities of power during the community-power ages, and the fall of several powerful cities.
Then the rise of widespread government came with its more closely-knit society made possible by better means of communication and transportation. This went on and on until the facility of the combining factors made separate governments on Ertene untenable, and there were seven great, fiery panels of mighty, widespread wars.
"Up to here, it is similar to ours," commented Guy.
"And here it changes," said Charalas. "For the next panels show the impending doom of Ertene's parent sun. The problem of space had been conquered but the other planets were of little interest to Ertene. We fought about four interplanetary wars as you see here, all against alien races. Then came trouble. The odd chance of a run-away star coming near Ertene did happen, and we faced the decision of living near an unstable sun for centuries, for our astronomers calculated that the two stars would pass close enough to cause upheavals in the suns that would result in instability for thousands, perhaps millions of years."
"Instability might not have been so bad," said Guy thoughtfully, "if it could be predicted. No, I'm not speaking in riddles," he laughed. "I may sound peculiar, saying that it would be possible to predict instability. But a regular variable of the cepheid type is predictable instability."
"True. But we had no basis for prediction. After all, it would have been taking a chance. Suppose that the instability had caused a nova? Epitaphs are nice but none the less final. We left hundreds of years before the solar proximity. Now we know that we might have survived, but as you know, we can not swerve Ertene's course readily and though we are slowly turning, the race may have died out and gone for a galactic eon before we could return. Once the race dies out—or the interest in returning to a certain sun back there in the depths of the galaxy dies—we will cease to turn. We may find a haven somewhere, before then."
"You were speaking of years," said Guy. "Was that a loose reference or were you approximating my conception of a year?"
"A year is a loose term indeed, no matter by whom it is used," said Charalas. "To you, it is three hundred and sixty-five, and about a quarter, days. A day is one revolution of Terra. From Mars, say, a Terran year is something else entirely. Mars, of course, is not too good an example for its sidereal day is very close to Terra's. But your Venus, with its eighteen hour day—eighteen Terran hours—sees Terra's year as four hundred eighty-six, plus, days. On Ertene, we have no year. We had one, once. It was composed of four hundred twelve point seven zero four two two nine three one days, sidereal. Now, our day is different, since the length of the solar day depends upon the progression of the planet about its luminary. Our luminary behaves as a moon with a high ecliptic-angle as I have explained. No, Guy, I have been mentally converting my year to your year, by crude approximation."
The next panel was an ornate painting of the Ertinian system, showing—out of scale for artistic purpose—the planets and sun, with Ertene drawing away in a long spiral.
"For many years we pursued that spiral, withdrawing from the sun by slow degrees. Then we broke free." Charalas indicated the panel which showed Ertene in the foreground while the clustered system was far behind.
They passed from panel to panel, all of which were interesting to Guy Maynard. There was a series of the first star contacted by Ertene. It was a small system, cold and forbidding, or hot and equally forbidding. The outer planets were in the grip of frozen air, and the inner planets bubbled in moltenness "This system was too far out of line to turn. It was our first star, and we might have stayed in youthfulness. Now, we know better."
The next panel showed a dimly-lighted landscape; a portrayal of Ertene without its synthetic sun. The luminous sky was beautiful in a nocturnal sort of way; to Guy it was slightly nostalgic for some unknown reason, at any rate it was the soul of sadness, that landscape.
Charalas shook his head and then smiled. He led Guy to the next panel, and there was a portrait of an elderly man, quite a bit older than Charalas though the neuro-surgeon was no young man. "Timalas," said Charalas proudly. "He gave us the next panel."
The following panel was a similar scene to the dismal one, but now the same trees and buildings and hills and sky were illuminated by a sun. It was a cheerful, uplifting scene compared to the soul-clouding darkness.
Ertene was a small sphere encircled by a band of peaceful black in a raving sky of fire and flame. Three planets fought in the death throes, using every conceivable weapon. Space was riven with blasting beams of energy and segregated into square areas by far-flung cutting planes. Raging energy consumed spots on each of the planets and the corners of the panel were tangled masses of broken machinery and burning wreckage, and the hapless images of trapped men. But Ertene passed through this holocaust unseen because of Timalas' light-shield.
"He saved us that, too," said Charalas reverently. "We could not have hoped to survive in this. Our science was not up to theirs, though the aid of a derelict or two gave us most of their science of war. I doubt that Terra herself could have survived. We passed unseen, though we worried for a hundred years lest they find us."
A race of spiders overran four of the planets of the next panel. They were unintelligent, there was a questioning air to the panel, as though posing the query as to how this race of spiders had crossed the void. And the picture of an Ertinian dying because contact with one of the spiders indicated their reason for not remaining.
The next panel showed a whole system with ammoniated atmosphere. "It was before the last panel," said Charalas, "that Ertene became of age as far as the wanderlust went. We knew that we could survive. We wanted no system wherein Ertene would be alone. Of what use to civilization would a culture be if its people could never leave the home planet?"
"No," agreed Guy. "Once a race has conquered space, they must use it. It would restrict the knowledge of a race not to use space."
"So we decided never to accept a system wherein we could not travel freely to other planets. Who knows, but the pathway to the planets may be but the first, faltering step to the stars?"
"We'd never have reached the planets if we'd never flown on the air," agreed Guy.
"We prefer company, too," smiled Charalas, pointing out the next panels. One was of a normal system but in which the life was not quite ready for the fundamentals of science and therefore likely to become slave-subject to the Ertinian mastery. The next was a system in which the intelligent life had overrun the system and had evolved to a high degree—and Ertene might have been subject to them if they had remained. "Unfortunately we could learn nothing from them," said the Ertinian. "It was similar to an ignorant savage trying to learn something from us."
Then they came to a panel in which there were ten planets. It was a strange collection of opposites all side by side. There were several races, some fighting others, some friendly with others. Plenty and poverty sat hand in hand, and in one place a minority controlled the lives of the majority while professing to be ruled by majority-rule. Men strived to perfect medicine and increase life-expectancy and other men fought and killed by the hundreds of thousands. A cold and forbidding planet was rich in essential ore, and populated by a semi-intelligent race of cold-blooded creatures. The protectors of these poor creatures were the denizens of a high civilization, who used them to fight their petty fights for them, under the name of unity. For their trouble, they took the essential ores to their home planet and exchanged items of dubious worth. The trespass of a human by the natives of a slightly populated moon caused the decimation of the natives, while the humans used them by the hundreds in vivisection since their anatomy was quite similar to the human's.
"Where is Ertene?" asked Guy.
"Ertene is not yet placed," said Charalas.
"No?" asked Guy in wonder.
"No," said Charalas with a queer smile. "Ertene is still not sure of her position. You see, Guy, that system is Sol."
Guy Maynard stood silent, thinking. It was a blow to him, this picturization of the worlds of Sol as seen through the eyes of a totally alien race. His own feelings he analyzed briefly, and he knew that in his own heart, he was willing to shade any decisions concerning the civilization of Ertene in the Ertinian favor; had any dispute between Ertene and a mythical dissenter, Guy would have had his decision weighted in favor of the wanderer for one reason alone.
Ertinians were human to the last classification!
Guy smiled inwardly. "Blood is thicker than water," he thought to himself, and he knew that while the old platitude was meant to cover blood-relations who clung together in spite of close bonds with friends not of blood relationship, it could very well be expanded to cover this situation. Obviously he as a Terran would tend to support a human race against a merely humanoid race. He would fight the Martians for Ertene just as he would fight them for Terra.
Fighting Ertene itself was unthinkable. They were too human; Ertene was too Terran to think of strife between the two worlds. Being of like anatomy, they would and should cling together against the whole universe of alien bodies.
But—
He had spoken to Charalas, to the nurses, to the groundkeepers, and to the scientists who came to learn of him and from him. He had told them of Terra and of the Solar System. He had explained the other worlds in detail and his own interpretation of those other cultures.
And still they depicted Terra in no central light. Terra did not dominate the panel. It vied with the other nine planets and their satellites for the prominence it should have held.
What was wrong?
Knowing that he would have favored Ertene for the anatomical reasons alone, Guy worried. Had his word-picture been so poor that Ertene gave the other planets their place in the panel in spite of the natural longing to place their own kind above the rest?
"I should think—" he started haltingly, but Charalas stopped him.
"Guy Maynard, you must understand that Ertene is neutral. Perhaps the first neutral you've ever seen. Believe that, Guy, and be warned that Ertene is capable of making her own, very discerning decision."
Guy did not answer. He knew something else, now. Ertene was not going to be easily convinced that Sol was the place for them. She was neutral, yes, but there was something else.
Ertene had the wanderlust!
For eons, Ertene had passed in her unseen way through the galaxy. She had seen system after system, and the lust for travel was upon her. Travel was her life, and had been for hundreds of generations.
Her children had been born and bred in a closed system, free from stellar bonds. Their history was a vast storehouse of experience such as no other planet had ever had. Every generation brought them to another star and each succeeding generation added to the wisdom of Ertene as it extracted or tried to extract some bit of knowledge from each system through which Ertene passed.
With travel her natural life, the wandering planet would be loath to cease her transient existence.
Like a man who has spent too many years in bachelorhood, flitting like a butterfly from lip to lip, Ertene had become inured to a single life. It would take a definite attraction to swerve her from her self-sufficiency.
These things came to Maynard as he stood in thought. He knew then that his was no easy job. Not the simple proposition of asking Ertene to join her own kind in an orbit about Sol. Not the mere signing of a pact would serve. Not the Terran-shaded history of the worlds of Sol with the Terran egotism that did not admit that Terra could possibly be wrong.
Ertene must be made to see the attractiveness of living in Maynard's little universe. It must be made more attractive than the interesting possibilities offered by the unknown worlds that lie ahead on her course through the galaxy.
All this plus the natural reticence of Ertene to become involved in a system that ran rife with war. The attractiveness of Sol must be so great that Ertene would remain in spite of war and alien hatred.
And Maynard knew in his heart that he was not the one to sway them easily. Part of his mind felt akin to their desire to roam. Even knowing that he would not live on Ertene to see the next star he wanted to go with them in order that his children might see it.
And yet his honor was directed at the service of Terra. His sacred oath had been given to support and strive to the best interest of Terra and Sol.
He put away the desire to roam with Ertene and thought once more of the studying he must do to convince Ertene of the absolute foolishness of continuing in their search for a more suitable star than Sol about which to establish a residence.
Maynard turned to Charalas and saw that the elderly doctor had been watching him intently. Before he could speak, the Ertinian said: "It is a hard nut to crack, lad. Many have tried but none have succeeded. Like most things that are best for people, they are the least exciting and the most formal, and people do not react cheerfully to a formal diet."
Maynard shook his head. "But unlike a man with ulcers, I cannot prescribe a diet of milk lest he die. Ertene will go on living no matter whether I speak and sway them or whether I never say another word. I am asked to convince an entire world against their will. I can not tell them that it is the slightest bit dangerous to go on as they have. In fact, it may be dangerous for them to remain. In all honesty, I must admit that Terra is not without her battle scars."
Charalas said, thoughtfully: "Who knows what is best for civilization? We do not, for we are civilization. We do as we think best, and if it is not best, we die and another civilization replaces us in Nature's long-time program to find the real survivor."
He faced the panel and said, partly to himself and partly to Guy:
"Is it best for Ertene to go on through time experimenting? Gathering the fruits of a million civilizations bound forever to their stellar homes because of the awful abyss between the stars? For the planets all to become wanderers would be chaos.
"Therefore is it Nature's plan that Ertene be the one planet to gather unto herself the fruit of all knowledge and ultimately lie barren because of the sterility of her culture? Are we to be the sponge for all thought? If so, where must it end? What good is it? Is this some great master plan? Will we, after a million galactic years, reach a state where we may disseminate the knowledge we have gained, or are we merely greedy, taking all and giving nothing?
"What are we learning? And, above all, are we certain that Ertene's culture is best for civilization? How may we tell? The strong and best adapted survive, and since we are no longer striving against the lesser forces of Nature on our planet, and indeed, are no longer striving against those of antisocial thought among our own people—against whom or what do we fight?
"Guy Maynard, you are young and intelligent. Perhaps by some whimsy of fate you may be the deciding factor in Ertene's aimlessness. We are here, Guy. We are at the gates to the future. My real reason for bringing you to the Center of Ertene is to have you present your case to the Council."
He took Guy's arm and led him through the door at the end of the corridor. They went into the gilt-and-ivory room with the vast hemispherical dome and as the door slowly closed behind them, Guy Maynard, Terran, and Charalas, Ertinian, stood facing a quarter-circle of ornate desks behind which sat the Council.
Obviously, they had been waiting.
