“Yes, but such a cloddy doesn’t invent a method of converting matter.”
“Are you sure? Our cobbler doesn’t invent a matter converter, obviously. His field is shoes. But as the centuries go by, and the millennia, a slight improvement in technique here, a slightly different tool put into use there, and you’d wind up with some very nearly perfect shoes. Remember, by this time he
“But the matter converter?”
“Obviously devised by some other caste. Some caste which has been at work in manufacture a megayear or so. Undoubtedly, a member of this caste is no more capable of making shoes, other than putting them into a converter and copying them, than the cobbler is capable of producing matter converters, or fusion reactors.”
The Baron pursed his lips. “Actually, of course, I doubt if they have cobblers at this late date. With the matter converter, such skills would disappear.”
He looked suddenly at the elderly scholar, “That will be all, Count Fitz-james.”
The Count scrambled hurriedly to his feet, put his hand over his heart in the salute he had made when he entered the room, and backed hurriedly toward the door through which he had come half an hour earlier.
When he was gone, the Baron looked at his visitor. “It’s all rather mind shaking, isn’t it?”
Ronny didn’t immediately answer. Finally, he shook his head, as though to clear it, and said, “Frankly, I can’t understand your reason for letting me in on all this. Surely, you must realize I’ll simply report to Ross Metaxa.”
“I hope not,” the Baron said seriously, pouring the remainder of the light wine into their glasses.
The Baron said judiciously, “Largely, what your commissioner reported to the chiefs of state, there at the conference in the Octagon, is valid. Man is face to face with his greatest crisis. Nothing can prevent our coming in contact with the Dawnworlds and their unique culture, sooner or later. Probably sooner than we would wish. However, where Metaxa and I differ is in the manner in which United Planets must be organized most efficiently.”
Ronny said, bitterly, “You, the strongman, figure on enforcing union.”
The Baron smiled and sipped his wine. “My dear Bronston, has it never occurred to you that your admired Ross Metaxa is a strongman himself?”
“He works within the framework of the United Planets Charter.”
The other clucked deprecation. “Does he, indeed? I am afraid, only when it so suits him. His methods differ little from my own, in actuality. He is downright Machiavellian when he can achieve his purpose by no other means. For instance, in selecting his tools… his agents, such as yourself. I am sometimes surprised that young men of obvious integrity and idealism, remain on his, ah, team.”
Ronny could see something was coming. Another curve ball.
Baron Wyler said decisively, his friendly eyes boring earnestly into the Section G operative’s, “Bronston, we of Phrygia know the location of the nearest Dawnworlds. We are on the verge of sending an expedition there. We are of the opinion that it will be quite practical to land and observe sufficient of that culture to be able to duplicate some of their ultra-advanced devices.” He twisted his mouth. “If not duplicate them, perhaps, ah, liberate one or two. It would seem that the matter converter is highly portable, for instance.
“I hardly need point out that the possession of such a device would put our planet into such a position of advantage that the whole of United Planets, even if they could be coerced into acting in full unison, could not stand against us.”
The Baron came to his feet, and his personality seemed to fill the room to straining. “Reunited under the aegis of Phrygia, man, of all the three thousand worlds we have colonized, will march forward together. By the time the inevitable all-out contact between the Dawnworlds and our own is made, we shall be ready for these unintelligent—though highly advanced technically—antmen, beemen, call them what you will.”
Ronny looked up at him, expressionlessly. “And where do I come in on this? Why have you told me about it? Why do you hope I won’t report to Ross Metaxa?”
Baron Wyler smiled at him. “I would think that as sharp a man as yourself, my dear Bronston, would see what I have been leading to. I am as desirous of top operatives as is Ross Metaxa. I want you to join my forces, Ronald Bronston.”
Ronny looked at him.
He came to his own feet. “I see. You want a man planted in Section G who’ll keep you tipped off to the latest maneuvers of Ross Metaxa.”
“Why mince words? Obviously.”
The Section G agent’s mouth worked. He said finally, “I’ll have to think about it. Frankly, what’s been said here in the past hour has set me back on my mental heels.”
“Of course, my dear Bronston. Do not take too long, is all. Events are on the march. We must not be dullards.”
He made his way over to the wall screen he had utilized earlier, and said something into it.
The same door, through which the elderly Count Fitzjames had come, opened again and Rita Daniels entered the room.
Ronny stared.
She said, a mocking quality in her voice, “Good afternoon, Citizen Bronston.” He had noted the comparative drabness of the local women on the streets, here was the direct opposite. Not even in the most swank salons, in the most luxurious embassies in Great Washington, could he have found a more stunningly turned out young woman than this. No Tri-Di star could have equaled this slim blonde; no artificially manufactured sex symbol, the pert prettiness of this elfin girl.
The Baron beamed at the two of them “I understand you have already met my niece, Your Excellency.”
Ronny Bronston closed his eyes in pain.
Rita said sweetly, “This was quite a little gimmick, getting yourself appointed a plenipotentiary from UP. Or do you maintain that you bore that rank before reaching Phrygia?”
Ronny bowed, wryly. “You seem to have a gimmick or so up your own sleeve, Citizeness Daniels,” he said.
The Baron smiled his wide smile. “Whatever our friend’s immediate methods, my dear Rita, he obviously can think on his feet, a desirable trait.” He turned to Ronny. “My niece has been working, ah, incognito, with Interplanetary News, the better to learn the workings of our fellow worlds. However, I believe I shall, in the future, utilize her talents even more profitably. Had I known what Metaxa had up his sleeve, I would never have allowed her to try and penetrate that conference; I had no idea he would go to the extent of seizing and then memorywashing the poor girl.”
He turned back to Rita, “And now, my dear, will you see our guest to his quarters? He has some important decisions to make.”
IX
Rita took him up, by way of the private elevator, to the ground floor and through the pseudo-Minoan Palace to a hovercar ramp. As they progressed, silently, passers-by came to a quick halt. Civilians pressed their hands over their hearts in the same salute Count Fitzjames had given the Baron, soldiers came to stiff attention.
She looked at him from the side of her eyes, a mocking quality still there.
Ronny said dryly, “Like magic, isn’t it? On Mother Earth, a lowly Interplanetary News reporter, sneaking into places she’s not wanted. Being grabbed, manhandled, mauled, battered around, and then memorywashed. But now a veritable princess, the niece of the Supreme Commandant.”
“What! Manhandled, mauled, battered around! Who dared?”
He looked at her as though in surprise. “Oh. That’s right, you wouldn’t remember.”
