'Mike hated the idea,' agreed Nelson. 'We couldn't even get close to him at first; he was afraid of us. Then he was ordered to go back with us and from then on he did exactly what we told him to do. He behaved like a soldier carrying out with perfect discipline orders that scared him silly.'
'Just a moment,' Caxton protested. 'Captain, even so - Mars attack us? Mars? You know more about these things than I do, but wouldn't that be about like us attacking Jupiter? I mean to say, we have about two and a half times the surface gravity that Mars has, just as Jupiter has about two and a half times our surface gravity. Somewhat analogous differences, each way, on pressure, temperature, atmosphere, and so forth. We couldn't stay alive on Jupiter? and I don't see how Martians could stand our conditions. Isn't that true?'
'Close enough,' admitted van Tromp.
'Then tell me why we should attack Jupiter? Or Mars attack us?'
'Mmm? Ben, have you seen any of the proposals to attempt a beach head on Jupiter?'
'Yes, but- Well, nothing has ever gotten beyond the dream stage. It isn't practical.'
'Space flight wasn't practical less than a century ago. Go back in the files and see what your own colleagues said about it - oh, say about 1940. These Jupiter proposals are, at best, no farther than drawing board - but the engineers working on them are quite serious. They think that, by using all that we've learned from deep ocean exploration, plus equipping men with powered suits in which to float, it should be possible to put human beings on Jupiter. And don't think for a moment that the Martians are any less clever than we are. You should see their cities.'
'Uh-' said Caxton. 'Okay, I'll shut up. I still don't see why they would bother.'
'Captain?'
'Yes, Jubal?'
'I see another objection - a cultural one. You know the rough division of cultures into 'Apollonian' and 'Dionysian.''
'I know in general what you mean.'
'Well, it seems to me that even the Zuni culture would be called 'Dionysian' on Mars. Of course, you've been there and I haven't - but I've been talking steadily with Mike. That boy was raised in an extremely Apollonian culture - and such cultures are not aggressive.'
'Mmm? I see your point - but I wouldn't count on it.'
Mahmoud said suddenly, 'Skipper, there's strong evidence to support Jubal's conclusion. You can analyse a culture from its language, every time - and there isn't any Martian word for 'war.'' He stopped and looked puzzled. 'At least, I don't think there is. Nor any word for 'weapon' nor for 'fighting.' If a word for a concept isn't in a language, then its culture simply doesn't have the referent the missing word would symbolize.'
'Oh, twaddle, Stinky! Animals fight - and ants even conduct wars. Are you trying to tell me they have to have words for it before they can do it?'
'I mean exactly that,' Mahmoud insisted, 'when it applies to any verbalizing race. Such as ourselves. Such as the Martians - even more highly verbalized than we are. A verbalizing race has words for every old concept? and creates new words or new definitions for old words whenever a new concept comes along. Always! A nervous system that is able to verbalize cannot avoid verbalizing; it's automatic. If the Martians know what 'war' is, then they have a word for it.'
'There is a quick way to settle it,' Jubal suggested. 'Call in Mike.
'Just a moment, Jubal,' van Tromp objected. 'I learned years ago never to argue with a specialist; you can't win. But I also learned that the history of progress is a long, long list of specialists who were dead wrong when they were most certain - sorry, Stinky.'
'You're quite right, Captain - only I'm not wrong this time.'
'As may be, all Mike can settle is whether or not he knows a certain word? which might be like asking a two- year-old to define 'calculus.' Proves nothing. I'd like to stick to facts for a moment. Sven? About Agnew?'
Nelson answered, 'It's up to you, Captain'
'Well? this is still private conversation among water brothers, gentlemen. Lieutenant Agnew was our junior medical officer. Quite brilliant in his line, Sven tells me, and I had no complaints about him otherwise; he was well- enough liked. But he had an unsuspected latent xenophobia. Not against humans. But he couldn't stand Martians. Now I had given orders against going armed outside the ship once it appeared that the Martians were peaceful - too much chance of an incident.
'Apparently young Agnew disobeyed me - at least we were never able to find his personal side arm later and the two men who last saw him alive say that he was wearing it. But all my log shows is: 'Missing and presumed dead.'
'Here is why. Two crewmen saw Agnew go into a sort of passage between two large rocks rather scarce on Mars; mostly it's monotonous. Then they saw a Martian enter the same way? whereupon they hurried, as Dr. Agnew's peculiarity was well known.
'Both say that they heard a shot. One says that he reached this opening in time to glimpse Agnew past the Martian, who pretty well filled the space between the rocks; they're so big. And then he didn't see him. The second man says that when he got there the Martian was just exiting, simply sailed on past them and went his way - which is characteristically Martian; if he has no business with you, he simply ignores you. With the Martian out of the way they could both see the space between the two rocks? and it was a dead end, empty.
'That's all, gentlemen? except to say that Agnew might have jumped that rock wall, under Mars' low surface gravity and the impetus of fear - but I could not and I tried - and to mention that these two crewmen were wearing breathing gear - have to, on Mars - and hypoxia can make a man's senses quite unreliable. I don't know that the first crewman was drunk through oxygen shortage; I just mention it because it is an explanation easier to believe than what he reported? which is that Agnew simply disappeared in the blink of an eye. In fact I suggested as much to him and ordered him to check the demand valve and the rest of his breather gear before he went outside again.
'You see, I thought Agnew would show up presently? and I was looking forward to chewing him out and slapping him under hack for going armed (if he was) and for going alone (which seemed certain), both being flagrant breaches of discipline.
'But he never returned, we never found him nor his body. I do not know what happened. But my own misgivings about Martians date to that incident. They never again seemed to me to be just big, gentle, harmless, rather comical creatures, even though we never had any trouble with them and they always gave us anything we wanted, once Stinky figured out how to ask for it. I played down the incident - can't let men panic when you're a hundred million miles from home. Oh, I couldn't play down the fact that Dr. Agnew was missing and the whole ship's company searched for him. But I squelched any suggestion that there had been anything mysterious about it - Agnew had gotten lost among those rocks. had eventually died, no doubt, when his oxygen ran out? and was buried under sand drift or something. You do get quite a breeze both at sunrise and sundown on Mars; it does cause the sand to drift. So I used it as a reason to clamp down ever harder on always traveling in company, always staying in radio contact with the ship, always checking breather gear? with Agnew as a horrible example. I did not tell that crewman to keep his mouth shut; I simply hinted that his story was unbelievable, especially as his mate was not able to back it up. I think the official version prevailed.'
Mahmoud said slowly, 'It did with me, Captain - this is the first time I've heard that there was any mystery about Agnew. And truthfully, I prefer your 'official' version - I'm not inclined to be superstitious.'
Van Tromp nodded. 'That's what I had hoped for. Only Sven and myself heard that crewman's wild tale - and we kept it to ourselves. But, just the same-' The space ship captain suddenly looked old. '-I still wake up in the night and ask myself: 'What became of Agnew?''
Jubal listened to the story without comment. He was still wondering what he should add to it when it ended. He wondered, too, if Jill had told Ben about Berquist and that other fellow - Johnson. He knew that he had not. There hadn't been time the night Ben had been rescued? and in the sober light of the following dawn it had seemed better to let such things ride.
Had the kids told Ben about the battle of the swimming pool? And the two carloads of cops who were missing afterwards? Again, it seemed most unlikely; the kids knew that the 'official' version was that the first task force had never showed up - they had all heard his phone call with Douglas. All Jubal's family were discreet; whether guests or employees, gossipy persons were quickly ousted - Jubal regarded gossip as his own prerogative, solely. But Jill might have told Ben. Well, if she had, she must have bound him to silence; Ben had not mentioned disappearances
