And is it not true that all our old worlds will meet their ends in the Fires? I agree, of course, that The World must be preserved until the exodus to insure the continuation of our race. However, with a present capacity to move only sixty percent of our combined populations, and the future grim, as far as raw materials are concerned, would it not be wise to lift the exploitation limitations of the two planets which still offer prospects of production? I refer, of course, to New World and Outworld.'
Belle, Overlady of Outworld: 'Our garden world is already spoiled beyond hope. Would you put mining shafts in the last remaining
parklands? Would you ship ore in huge rollers down the streets of our cities?'
Bertt: 'Would you have millions burn in the Fires, sitting happily in the last remaining parklands atop the metals which could have saved them?'
Mother Miaree: 'Your point is well taken, Bertt, but such decisions are a matter for the Council. If you will prepare your proposals I will present them.'
Jenee, Overlady of the City of Nirrar: 'Lady, it is a small matter, perhaps, since we are faced with problems of cosmic size, but would you express an opinion on the desirability of posting members of the guard at strategic locations throughout the city? As you may know, the exuberant spirits of the Delanian young sometimes take a destructive course. The problem is not a major one, but their activities have been known to interfere with the administration of the city, which is, as you know, vastly overcrowded. Destruction of property and forced merge are merely two of the symptoms.'
Mother Miaree: 'Perhaps the President of the Delanians has a comment?'
Argun: 'Lady, give me as many guards as you can. I will augment their number with enough Delanians to stop such outrageous activities.'
Mother Miaree: 'Done, Argun. Thank you for your help. We Artonuee have not faced such problems in the past and would scarcely know how to handle them. Now, it has been a long and tiring day. My office will be open to any of you, but now I suggest that we all seek our dwellings, since the hour is late.'
Chapter Nineteen
Five’s nightside sparkled with the lights of industry. The atmosphere, artificially thickened to produce a greenhouse effect, caused the glow to be diffused, hid the equatorial low lands, behind their huge dikes, under swirls of cloud. Incoming from New World and Mother Miaree’s first
top-level conference, Bertt swung his flyer into dayside, called Fivegate for landing clearance, and then, waiting, let his eyes feast on the inspiring sight of a million star ships, lined up like great beasts of black space in a holding orbit.
The construction area, just past Fivegate, was visible as he landed. Cargo shuttles crowded the gate, idle. Bertt walked rapidly to the control center. A star ship from the ore planets of Seberian was within communications range. Soon the smelters would glow again and work could continue on the hundreds of ships in various stages of completion.
In spite of the hectic events of the past twenty years, Bertt was still uncomfortable in closed spaces. Although it was gratifying to be able to man a powered flyer, he was not a space nut. And the closed atmosphere of the gate was heavy in his mind. He boarded a shuttle as quickly as possible, and already anticipating a few hours of luxurious freedom from responsibility, began to draw, for perhaps the millionth-plus time, the circuits of a mires expander in his mind.
Once he had seen the release of unbelievable power.
Once, with his Delanian friend, Untell, he had been on the verge of the greatest discovery of all.
Delanian power was an improvement. And the combination of the converters and the Delanian power had reduced the shuttle ride to planetside to minutes. Great strides had been taken in space travel. Still, the two cooperating races faced an uncertain future of star-roving in that ponderous fleet which was being assembled in orbit around Five.
He was thinking of the prospect of finishing out his allotted time in a closed atmosphere. Huge as the star ships were, he, lover of spaces and the lost solitude of his old world, did not relish the idea of a lifetime of imprisonment in a star ship.
Because of his position and his need for privacy, he had been allowed to keep his old dwelling. It was small, but it sat in the midst of an acre of undisturbed land. And adjoining it was the old workshop where he had designed and built the finest flyers ever to ride the solar winds. He ate the tasteful synthetics, sipped synthetic jenk, dozed in his chair to recover from the shock of planet change, but his mind would not be idle.
The dream was always with him.
They had been so close.
A year and they would have had it. Working with Untell, he, Bertt, would have created a source of power so vast that the universe would have been opened to exploration.
Sighing, he rose and stretched tiredly. He shrugged into a work garment and trudged into the shop. He mused before his bench for long minutes, his eyes following the convolutions of the incredibly complicated circuitry of the altered expander which had once released the energies of the electrons in two tiny cubes of soft metal. Once, twice, three times he had watched with the same results. A significant and measurable channeling of the force and then disintegration.
Where had they gone wrong?
He had traced the theory in its complications thousands of times. He traced it once again. In the mind, on duppaper, it worked. What was the hidden fault?
When his assistant came in search of him next morning, Bertt was discovered sleeping, his head on the workbench. The assistant smiled sadly. The old man was still playing with his toy.
Chapter Twenty
Argun, President of the Delanian People in Exile, was a virile man in the prime of his life. Although he carried a heavy responsibility, he lived with an elan that kept his outlook youthful and optimistic. As a youth, he had helped to tame a world which had presented more problems than the little ice ball the Artonuee had loved so much before Delanian vitality had made the place liveable. His genes were the finest, and even before leaving the home worlds, he had been allowed four offspring with four different chosen women. Two of his sons were among those selected to live. And Argun had sired a daughter and a son since coming to the Artonuee system. His seed would be preserved and preserved well. He took great
pride in that.
At his headquarters in the Government Quad in Nirrar City, adjacent to the Mother’s building, he maintained two Artonuee mistresses and was not averse to spreading that particular form of Delanian joy to others, casual acquaintances longing for a dose of the Delanian drug.
For his personal staff, he had selected the strongest and wisest, both men and women. He was a man with a purpose, and he worked toward that purpose with untiring vigor. He had seen enough death. Those who had not been on the home worlds at the end could not possibly understand.
Seated with Argun was young Rei, who warmed the Mother’s bed.
'You have completed the assignment?' Argun asked.
'It is confirmed.' Rei said. He sipped the Artonuee liquor, for which he had acquired a taste, while Argun drank heartily from a mug of synthetic Delanian grog.
'Quite a dish, no?' Argun asked.
'She was a good specimen,' Rei said.
'Indeed,' Argun said. 'I know. I envy you the fob of knocking her up. Would have done it myself, but I don’t
