city people know of the presence of a Federation ship, but do not as yet associate it with the rescue operation. They, and everyone else outside the Estate, believe that my words come through one of the First’s transmitters. I am doing nothing to remedy this error, because to do so would cause argument and delay, but this omission is a most serious ingratitude toward the true benefactors.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Martin said. “Your presence and active cooperation discharges any unknowing obligations owed by your people. Besides, the First is taking all the credit, too, and we want it to stay that way for as long as possible. Sooner or later direct intervention will necessary, and then things will become really complicated.”
“It will be sooner,” the doctor said, using both hands to point simultaneously toward a spot on the main surveillance screen and the enlarged view on his own. “If my reading of your displays is correct, the population of Group Seventy-one, two hundred plus refugees in all, is heading toward center Eleven-eighty instead of Eleven- seventy-nine as directed. Eleven-eighty is much closer but is in the path of the fallout from Burst Three, Heavy rain is predicted which will bring down the fallout and seriously contaminate the intervening ground before they can reach shelter. The village First knows which induction center is closer and he refuses to go to the farther one because of the number of aged, unwell, or very young Keidi in his family. They have not actually seen a burst, so they consider my verbal description an overly dramatic misdirection, and my attempts to make them take the longer journey have been unsuccessful.”
And if they did not begin moving toward Eleven-seventy-nine at once, Martin saw from the display, it, too, would be affected before they could reach it.
To Beth he said, “Are you seeing this? Can you whip up some really foul weather between Group Seventy-one and Center Eleven-eighty? Bad enough to make them want to take the longer trip?”
Beth looked doubtful. She said, “A day’s march, maybe thirty to forty miles, doesn’t give me much elbow room. A really bad weather system is difficult to position with accuracy and some of it will spill over onto the refugees and slow them down. Even the hypership can’t make rain on one side of the street and sunshine on the other.”
“We need something quick and simple,” Martin said. “How about a simulated ground level nuclear burst, with the projection scaled down to fit, between them and Eleven-eighty? Did you record the missile site detonation?”
“From all angles,” Beth said. “But won’t that be a bit drastic on the refugees? There must be a gentler way.”
Martin looked at the doctor, who had resumed his vain attempt to make Group Seventy-one change direction, and said quietly, “Not in the time we have. My responsibility. Do it, now.”
When it happened the doctor’s screen was displaying sharply defined, wide-angle views with sound which were being relayed from the sensor pickups hovering above Group Seventy-one. For one terrifying instant the Keidi old and young, their packs and litters, even the dark leafed trees around them became an incredibly bleached picture in shades of white and palest gray. But it was a still and silent picture whose subjects were paralyzed by shock and fear, until a low, rumbling sound began which mounted rapidly in volume to become the shriek of a thousand hurricanes. Then there was movement, the uncoordinated scurryings of a nest of disturbed insects. But the shouts of despair and panic, and the high-pitched, pitiful squeakings coming from infant speaking horns, could not be heard until the roaring died into silence and the even more fearful specter of a massive, misshapen, nuclear mushroom could be seen climbing and darkening the sky above their destination.
“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Martin said quickly, “they’re all right. It was only light and sound; a harmless, three- dimensional projection. There is no radiation, no heat, and the leaves on the trees didn’t even stir when the sound of that shock wave went through. But now they will listen to you and go in the right direction without argument.”
“There are injuries among the old and young,” the doctor exclaimed angrily. “Fortunately, none appear serious enough to slow the evacuation. And there is general fear and mental distress. That was a cruel act, off- worlder!”
“It was a necessary act,” Martin replied firmly. “It was for their own ultimate good.”
“The First uses those same words of excuse,” the Keidi said, and returned his attention to the screen.
Beth did not speak. Perhaps, Teldi fashion, her silence denoted the absence of dissent, but Martin doubted that. He wondered what the Masters of Teldi, who were no strangers to major catastrophe, would think about his recent behavior.
The sunset line moved steadily across the continental land mass, leaving the Estate and the outlying settlements in darkness except for the scattering of bright, fuzzy stars that were the flares suspended above the refugee groups forced by the inexorable approach of radioactive fallout to travel at night. On their first appearance, the flares had caused nearly as much panic as the projection of the nuclear detonation. But the doctor, in words which were becoming slower and more slurred by the minute, explained that the tiny suns hanging in their night sky were harmless and had been sent by the Galactics to guide them. Then his speaking horn had dropped limply onto his chest and he collapsed over his console.
The medical computer scanned its clinical data on the Keidi life form and stated that aging members of his species lacked stamina and often lost consciousness after lengthy periods of physical or mental stress, that the condition was temporary and there was no reason for concern. Martin pushed the doctor back into a more comfortable position and replaced the hush field because the weird, discordant noises emanating from the Keidi’s speaking horn made it impossible to talk or catch up on their own sleep.
An irate call from the First kept them from doing either.
“I have been listening to some of the doctor’s broadcasts,” he said angrily, “and you must tell him to stop undermining my authority! He is trying to make our people trust you, and is as good as telling everyone that the disaster is my fault, while the truth is that it was precipitated by your escape…”
“They were your missiles,” Martin said tiredly, “and it was trusted but stupid members of your family who launched them. Lie to yourself if you must, but don’t try to…”
“… And stop filling up the sky with your flares,” the First raged on. “My people are capable of lighting torches and my vehicles have headlamps. Apart from providing temporary fallout shelters, we didn’t ask for and do not want your help. I am the First Father of the Estate, I have the organization to lead my Family to safety without interference from you!”
Once again the First must be talking for the benefit of the people around him, Martin thought. Diplomatically, he said, “Your organization and movement of the refugees has been exemplary, but we thought that the flares might expedite matters. However, there are a number of groups which are moving in the wrong directions. We count eight of them, all headed toward one induction center which is not the nearest to their present positions. This is time wasting and dangerous for the people concerned, and they should be redirected at once. Also, our sensors show three settlements in the mountain region seventy miles west and presently upwind of the missile arsenal, who seem to be totally unaware of what has been going on. If you have no radio contact with them, we can soft-land the necessary equipment and…”
“No,” the First said sharply. “They are small, widely scattered groups who will not be affected for many days. They are not easily accessible to my vehicles which, at the present time, are being more productively employed elsewhere. There is no need to worry them at this stage and, in the present situation, a certain number of casualties must be accepted.”
‘ “There is no acceptable number of casualties,” Martin replied firmly. “I’ll ask the doctor to explain what is happening, and get them moving toward the nearest centers. If necessary we can provide transport.”
“No,” the First said angrily. “I will do what is necessary.”
“Very well,” Martin said. “Will you also instruct the eight groups who are converging on the same induction center to sort themselves out? Five of them have much less distant shelters available.”
There was a moment’s silence, then the First said, “The convergence is deliberate. They are special members of my Family, trusted and able, who I wish to have around me for protection against dissidents and as a nucleus of the organization which will restore order after the present emergency is past. They are well-trained and capable of moving quickly enough to escape the fallout.
‘To avoid overcrowding,” he added, “no other groups are being directed to that center.”
“Wait,” Martin said.
He asked Beth to display close-range aerial views of the groups concerned, which included a very large one
