maybe they didn’t want anything more than to trade.”
“Trade what?” Don said in rejection. “If they can cross interstellar space, they’re so far ahead of us that we couldn’t have anything they want.”
But the other shook his head. “Possibly they’ve run out of some of the more rare metals or other elements. If their civilization is far beyond our own, it’s probably much older. Even in our own economy, we’re running desperately short of some basic elements. For that matter, possibly they’re highly cultured, and fascinated with the art and artifacts of alien cultures. Possibly they would like to pick up such little items as Leonardo da Vinci’s, or whatever.”
“No,” Don said. “It’s out of the question. If there aren’t any Kradens coming through any more, and they weren’t even belligerent when they turned up half a century ago, it would have come out by now. A whole solar system isn’t so stupid as to fight bogeymen, who don’t exist, for fifty years.”
The big man looked at him thoughtfully and threw his biggest bombshell. He said, “Perhaps there are elements who profit by the false alarm.”
III
Don Mathers didn’t leave the big man’s apartment until afternoon. They’d had a huge breakfast, and by the time it was over Don had thoroughly recovered.
He asked the other guardedly about the doctor, who would provide you with a false illness that could result in your honorable discharge from the military, for free. Thor explained that he wasn’t alone in opposing the all-out efforts of Earth and its solar system colonies to gird for defense against the Kradens. To him it was madness that the human race was devoting every effort to prepare for fighting an enemy that didn’t exist.
“It reminds me of the race to the moon,” he said in disgust.
Don said, over his coffee, “How do you mean?”
“Back in the very early days of space travel. The United States got a slow start but then dramatically announced that they were going to beat the Russians to the moon by landing there before the decade was out. Billions of dollars were spent, many of them squandered due to haste. Millions of man hours of the best scientists and technicians the country could boast were tossed into the supposed race to the moon. As a result, sure enough, they got there first and before the decade was out. The only thing was, there was no race. The Russians had made no attempt to land men on Luna. They were devoting their efforts to less frenetic experiments in establishing space platforms and sending out probes to Venus and Mars, and spending a damn sight less money and effort in doing so.”
“Well,” Don said, “back to this doctor.”
“The doctor feels the same as I do. The whole thing’s a farce. He believes that any man who devotes his career to the Space Service, or anything else connected with supposed defense, is wasting his life. And he’s willing to help get anybody out who wants it. Are you interested?”
“Let me think about it,” Don said evasively.
How did he know he could trust this big, seemingly generous man? He hardly knew him and the situation was a dangerous one. Theoretically, the human race was at war. Deliberate desertion could be punished with a firing squad. Suppose the doctor changed his mind, sometime in the future, and reported him. Or suppose someone else informed on the doctor and he was arrested and psyched. He’d spill everything he knew, including Thor Bjornsen’s name and that of Don Mathers.
Don thanked the other again and offered to transfer some of his pseudo-dollar credits to him in payment. Thor Bjornsen laughingly refused and told him to think over the doctor’s proposition. The big man was between jobs and could usually be located at the apartment. The trouble with his finding another position was that he didn’t want anything even remotely connected with the war effort, and there were precious few jobs these days that weren’t either directly or indirectly so connected.
Don Mathers was at loose ends. He had gone through quite a few of his pseudo-dollars the night before and so was deprived of the wherewithal to spend his three weeks leave in the manner he ordinarily would have. Besides, he was still glum about the treatment he had received from Dian Keramikou and apprehensive about the commodore and the possibility that his commander would send him to the medicos.
So he made his way to Harry’s Nuevo Mexico Bar. At least he had credit there and could drink without drawing on his pseudo-dollar supply.
The bar, this early in the afternoon, was almost empty. Don spotted a fellow One Man Scout pilot on a stool and went over to join him. It was Eric Hansen, who held down a full lieutenant’s rank, in spite of the fact that he was still assigned to the tiny scouts.
Don said, “Cheers, Eric. What spins?” He took the stool next to the other.
“My head,” the other said gloomily. “Hi, Don. I just got in from a three week patrol and I’m hanging one on.”
Harry came down and Don ordered a beer.
He said to Eric, “Didn’t you spot a Kraden once?”
“Yeah. About a year ago. Big excitement. That’s how I got my promotion.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened. It was just for a couple of seconds. It looked like one of those Dorsi Class cruisers to me. Traveling like a bat out of hell. Then it disappeared.”
Don glanced at him from the side of his eyes. He said, “Eric, damn it, you
The other was mildly indignant. “Sure I’m sure. What the hell are you talking about?”
“How long were you out when you saw it?”
“I was just about to head in. The patrol was over.”
“Any space cafard at all?”
“Almighty Ultimate. Anybody’s got a touch of cafard after three or four weeks in space, all alone.”
Don finished his beer and made circular motions with a forefinger to request another from Harry, who came rambling down. Two strangers in civilian garb had entered and he had just waited upon them at one of the tables.
Don said to Eric, “Could it have been a hallucination?”
“What?”
“The Kraden.”
Eric finished his highball with a quick gesture of the practiced drinker. He was still mildly indignant, in fact, less so than previously. He said plaintively, “Of course it could have been hallucination. I only saw it for a few seconds. Hell, in my time, I’ve seen elves playing around in the cockpit after a couple of weeks in deep space. So have you, no doubt.”
“I usually see fairies,” Don said. “Real pretty ones, with gossamer pink wings.”
“You’re probably a latent homosexual,” Eric told him.
They sat there for a while. Eric got another drink. He said, “How long do you go on before you get the big jolt of space cafard and go completely tripe-ripe?”
“I don’t know,” Don said, knocking on the bar with his knuckles, though he knew damn well it wasn’t wood. “What do you mean the Kraden disappeared?”
“Just that. One second it was there. Then it was gone. The only thing I can figure is that Intelligence is right. The Kradens have some way of dropping into ultra-space, or qua-space, or hyper-space, or whatever gobbledygook name you want to call it, and take off faster than light.”
Don said, pulling at his drink, “Don’t be drivel-happy. Nothing can go as fast as light. That’s basic. You got that in training.”
“I didn’t say anything about traveling at the speed of light. I said traveling faster than light. The big double domes these days are working it over. How otherwise could the Kradens come from some, uh, other star system? Hell, even the closest ones, uh, Alpha Centauri A and B are 4.3 light years from here and we haven’t any reason to believe that’s where they came from. The next nearest is Epsilon Eridani and that’s almost eleven light years away.
