The Rival Rigelians

Barry Watson flushed.

“…if he still wants it.”

Chessman growled. “Let’s halt this bickering and jabber and get to business. First, let me introduce Reif, Texcocan State Army Chief of Staff and his son Taller.”

Reif and his son came to a formal salute. The Earthmen from Genoa nodded acknowledgment, uncomfortably.

Chessman said, “And these other Texcocans are Wiss and Foken, both of whom have gone far in the sciences.”

The two Tulan scientists shook hands, Earth style, but then stepped to the rear again where they followed the conversation without comment.

Mayer said, “You think it wise to introduce natives to the Pedagogue? Last time it was armed guards. This time prominent officials and scientists.”

“Of course,” Chessman said. “Following this conference I am going to take Foken and Wiss into the library. What are we here for if not to bring these people up to our level as rapidly as possible?”

“Very well,” Mayer conceded grudgingly. “And now I have a complaint. When the Pedagogue first arrived we had only so many weapons aboard. However, both teams have evidently run into more physical violence than was at first expected. And you have taken more than half of the ship’s weapons in the past two decades.”

Chessman shrugged it off. “We’ll return the greater part to the ship’s arsenal. At this stage, we are producing our own.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Jerry Kennedy said. “Look, any of you fellows want a real Earthside whiskey? When we were crewing this expedition, why didn’t we bring someone with a knowledge of distilling, brewing and fermenting?”

Mayer snapped at him. “Jerry, you drink too much.”

“The hell I do,” the other said cheerfully. “Not near enough.”

Barry Watson said easily, “A drink wouldn’t hurt. Why’re we so stiff? This is the first get-together for ten years. Jerry, you’re putting on weight.”

Kennedy looked down at his rounded stomach. “Don’t get enough exercise,” he said, then reversed the attack. “You look older, Barry. Are you taking your rejuvenation treatments?”

Barry Watson grimaced. “Sure, but I’m working under pressure. It’s been one long campaign.”

Kennedy passed around the drinks, thoughtfully refilling his own glass.

Dick Hawkins laughed. “It’s been one long campaign, all right. Barry has a house as big as a castle and six or eight—I don’t think he knows himself—women in his harem.”

Watson flushed, but obviously without displeasure.

Martin Gunther, of the Genoese team, cocked his head. “Harem?”

Joe Chessman said impatiently, “Man adapts to circumstances, Gunther. The wars have lost us a lot of men. Women are consequently in a surplus. If the population curve is to continue upward, it is necessary that a man serve more than one woman. Polygamy is the obvious answer.”

Gunther cleared his throat smoothly. “So a man in Barry’s position will have as many as eight wives, eh? You must have lost a good many men.”

Watson grinned modestly. “Everybody doesn’t have that many. It’s according to your ability to support them, and, also rank has its privileges, as always. Besides, we figure it’s a good idea to spread the best seed around. By mixing our blood with the Texcocans we improve the breed.”

Behind him, Taller, the Tulan boy, stirred without notice. One of the two scientists looked at his colleague from the side of his eyes, but the faces of both remained expressionless.

Kennedy finished off his highball and began to build another, immediately. He said, “Here we go again. The big potatoes coming to the top.”

Watson flushed. “What do you mean by that, Kennedy?”

“Oh, come off it, Barry,” Kennedy laughed, “just because you’re in a position to push these people around doesn’t make you the prize stud on Texcoco.”

Watson elbowed Dick Hawkins to one side in his attempt to get around the table at the other.

Chessman rapped, “Watson! That’s enough. Knock it or I’ll have you under arrest.” The Texcocan team head turned abruptly to Mayer and Kennedy. “Let’s stop this nonsense. We’ve come to compare progress. Let’s begin.”

The three members of the Genoese team glared back in antagonism, but then Gunther said grudgingly, “He’s right. There is no longer amiability between us, so let’s forget it Perhaps when the fifty years are up, things will be different. Now let’s merely be businesslike.”

“Well,” Mayer said, “our report is that progress accelerates. Our industrial potential expands at a rate that surprises even us. In the near future, we’ll introduce the internal combustion engine. Our universities still multiply and are turning out technicians, engineers and scientists at an even quicker rate. In several nations, illiteracy is practically unknown and per capita production increases almost everywhere.” Mayer paused in satisfaction, as though awaiting the others to attempt to top his report.

Joe Chessman said sourly, “Ah, almost everywhere per capita production increases. Why almost?”

Mayer snapped. “Obviously, in a system of free competition, all cannot progress at once. Some go under.”

“Whole nations?”

“Temporarily, whole nations can receive setbacks as a result of defeat in a war, or perhaps due to lack of natural resources. Some nations progress faster than others.”

Chessman said in dour satisfaction, “The whole Texcocan State is one great unit. Everywhere the gross product increases. Within the foreseeable future, the standard of living will be excellent.”

Jerry Kennedy, an alcoholic lisp in his voice now, said, “You mean you’ve accomplished the planet-wide government you were telling us about at the last meeting?”

“Well, no. Not as yet.” Chessman’s sullen voice had an element of chagrin in it. “However, there are no strong elements left that oppose us. We are now pacifying the more remote areas.”

“Sounds like a rather bloody program—especially if Barry Watson, here, winds up with eight women,” Martin Gunther said.

Watson started to retort to that, but Chessman held up a restraining hand. “The Texcocan State is too strong to be resisted, Gunther. It is mostly a matter of getting around to the more remote peoples. As soon as we bring in a new tribe, we convert it into a commune.”

“Commune!” Kennedy blurted.

Joe Chessman raised his thick eyebrows at the other. “The most efficient socio-economic unit at this stage of development. Tribal society is perfectly adapted to fit into such a plan. The principal differences between a tribe and a commune is that under the commune you have the advantage of a State above in a position to give you the benefit of mass industries, schools, medical assistance. In return, of course, for a certain amount of taxes, a military levy and so forth.”

Martin Gunther said softly, “I recall reading of the commune system as a student, but I fail to remember the supposed advantages.”

Chessman growled. “They’re obvious. You have a unit of tens of thousands of persons. Instead of living in individual houses, each with a man working while the woman cooks and takes care of the home and the children, all live in community houses and take their meals in a messhall. The children are cared for by trained nurses. During the season all able adults go out en masse to work the fields. When the harvest has been taken in, the farmer does not hole up for the winter but is occupied in local industrial projects, or in road or dam building. The commune’s labor is never idle.”

Kennedy shuddered involuntarily.

Chessman looked at him coldly. “It means quick progress. Meanwhile, we go through each commune and from earliest youth, locate those members who are suited to higher studies. We bring them into state schools where they get as much education as they can assimilate—more than is available in commune schools. These are the Texcocans we are training in the sciences.”