Battle for the Stars

landscape.

In these flying glimpses, Earth did not look too strange or different. It was a green world, but lots of E-type worlds were that, and many of them had blue skies and fleecy, white clouds like this one. The sun, setting now behind them, seemed changing its light from soft gold to reddish and the long rays struck across tracts of conventional plastic-and-metal houses such as one might see on any modern world. Then as they went on farther, Birrel sat up straight and stared ahead. In the blaze of sunset light there rose the most surprising city he had ever seen.

It was overpowering and at the same time ridiculous.

Its starkly vertical towers were unbelievably lofty. No one built in this huddled perpendicular fashion on any world he had ever visited. But he knew this city was old and he supposed that the outmoded style of building of centuries before had just kept going by momentum. After all, they could not suddenly tear the whole place down and start again from scratch. Nevertheless, when they were actually in the streets Birrel found himself oppressed by the overhanging loom of these grotesque structures.

But Charteris’ big terrace apartment, high about the myriad lights that were coming out with twilight, was pleasant. The chairman, still talking polite formalities, showed him the great UW building that towered up a mile southward of them.

'It stands on the site once occupied by the United Nations,” said Chiarteris. “It was a great day when the United Worlds building replaced that, almost a hundred and fifty years ago. People had achieved a peaceful Earth, now they would achieve a peaceful universe.'

Birrel glanced at the chairman sharply, but could detect no irony in his voice or in his quiet face.

There was a formal dinner that night presided over by Charteris’ wife, who looked like a slightly weary but game veteran of many such dinners. There were roasts, and speeches, and much talk about the commemoration. Sector politics were unobtrusively avoided although there were two officials from Cepheus Sector and one from Leo, looking warily at him, but talking courteous nothings.

Birrel fretted through it all. What was Solleremos doing while they sat babbling here? Were his two crack squadrons still poised out there? Ferdias had promised he would get warning if they moved, but would that warning come in time?

Later, when the guests had gone and Lyllin had retired, Birrel sat on the terrace with Charteris and Mallinson and had a final drink. He looked at the reticulations of lights hung loftily against the sky and thought that this was as strange a vista as he had ever seen. From away to the west there was a roll of thunder, ripping across the sky and suddenly ending, as a starship came into the port. He was thinking that it was a medium-class merchant by the sound, when he became aware that Charteris was asking him a question.

'Is Orion Sector going to send a squadron for the commemoration, too, or only a token delegation?'

Alarm rang a bell in Birrel's mind. What was behind the question? Had Charteris heard something that he had not heard, or was he just fishing for information?

He answered casually, “Why, I don't know. But surely they'd notify you of their plans.'

Charteris continued to eye him, and now Birrel sensed the steely, determined man inside that quiet, gray exterior. But it was Mallinson who spoke up smoothly.

'We sent an invitation to Governor Solleremos for Orion to take part, of course,” he said. “It was accepted, but we haven't yet heard what sort of delegation is coming to represent them.'

Birrel thought swiftly. They're lying, they have beard something-and they're trying to find out if I've heard it too. But what? Was Orion already moving, were Orionid forces coming to Earth on the excuse of the celebration, just as the Fifth Lyra had done?

He would get no information from Charteris or Mallinson. It was now apparent that they and probably other high officials of the UW, of Earth, were suspicions of both Lyra and Orion. And, in spite of bringing along the transports, the coming of the whole Lyra Fifth squadron had sharpened their suspicions. Birrel, desperately afraid of making a blunder, felt himself sweating. It was true what he had told Ferdias, he was no good at this kind of intrigue, and unless he made contact soon with Karsh and got a briefing, he could easily turn suspicion into open hostility.

CHAPTER 8

Birrel decided quickly that he had better not try to fence with Charteris and Mallinson. They were experienced in this sort of thing and he was not, and was likely to make some betraying slip. The thing to do was to set it up to see Karsh as soon as possible.

Rising from his chair, he stretched and said, “It's been a long day, at that.'

Charteris, instantly the courteous host, smiled. “And a few more tedious ones ahead, I fear. We have many things planned to entertain you and your officers, Commander.'

That was not good news, but he would have to make the best of it. Birrel bade them good night and turned away, then turned back again as though he had suddenly remembered something.

'By the way,” he said, “while I'm here on Earth I want to look up my ancestors’ old home. I understand it's in a village not too far away.'

Charteris nodded understandingly. “Of course. Quite a few visitors have a sentiment about their ancestors’ old home world.'

Mallinson set his drink down and said, with an edge to his voice, “Less sentiment and more loyalty out there is what the UW needs.'

There was a moment of awkward silence, but Charteris covered it by saying, “No politics tonight, Ross. Not with a guest. Good night, Commander.'

Birrel went to his room, and found Lyllin sleeping or pretending to sleep. He suspected it was the latter, that she was still so resentful that she wanted to avoid conversation with him. He was rather relieved, for he did not care to talk too much here. It seemed vulgar to suspect listening-devices, and he felt sure that Charteris would not stoop to such stratagems. But of Mallinson he was not so sure — the bitter edge to his sudden remark had betrayed deep feeling. He supposed that a good many Earth folk felt that way. They had once had, or thought that they had, all the galaxy as their backyard, with Earth to be the center of things forever. Now that was all changed, and it would be too much to expect them to like it…

Lying unsleeping in the dark room, he tried to plan. He could understand now why it had been arranged for him to meet Karsh in that place away from New York. Ferdias’ agent could not possibly contact him here, where the brilliant spotlight of publicity played upon him, where he was Charteris’ guest. He fretted to think of going through meaningless functions at a time like this, but he would have to do it and get away as soon as possible. He braced himself for a wearing time of it next day.

The day proved wearing enough, but not quite in the way that Birrel expected. Mallinson, all smooth smiles again, appeared at ten to be his guide and sponsor. Charteris’ wife had taken a fancy to Lyllin and had plans, so Birrel went alone with the tall, young diplomat.

'The UW first, of course,” said Mallinson as they got into a waiting car. “You'll find it interesting.'

Birrel looked with no liking at the crowded streets. The fact that the summer sunlight was golden instead of blue-white did not bother him, he was used to different kinds of sunlight. The air he breathed was the norm for an E-type world, with a pleasant snap in it from the salt ocean. But the towering cliffs of buildings, the huddle and clamor and bustle, were strange and repellent. He thought that a starman could easily get claustrophobia in this city.

The United Worlds building towered like a man-made metal mountain. The Council was in session, Mallinson told him, but inside the sweeping, pure-white lobby Birrel was introduced to a group of the secretariat. He listened to names, shook hands, smiled, and looked into politely smiling faces, and underneath the courtesy he felt the impact of their dislike.

'You'll want a look at the Council chamber,” Mallinson said, taking his arm. “We'll go up to the gallery.'

Birrel got a shock when he entered the gallery. Its rows of seats were only thinly occupied by spectators, but what was really shocking was the floor of the chamber.

They had dreamed and built big when they had raised this structure a century and a half ago. Too big. The