Mattern replied, “Security, Doctor. Ozymandias is of military use. Accordingly we’ve brought him to the ship and placed him in sealed quarters, under top-level wraps. With the power entrusted to me for such emergencies, I’m declaring this expedition ended. We return to Earth at once with Ozymandias.”
Leopold’s eyes bugged. He looked at us for support, but we said nothing. Finally, incredulously, he said, “He’s—of military use?”
“Of course. He’s a storehouse of data on the ancient Thaiquen weapons. We’ve already learned things from him that are unbelievable in their scope. Why do you think this planet is bare of life, Dr. Leopold? Not even a blade of grass? A million years won’t do that. But a superweapon will. The Thaiquens developed that weapon. And others, too. Weapons that can make your hair curl. And Ozymandias knows every detail of them. Do you think we can waste time letting you people fool with that robot, when he’s loaded with military information that can make America totally impregnable? Sorry, Doctor. Ozymandias is your find, but he belongs to us. And we’re taking him back to Earth.”
Again the room was silent. Leopold looked at me, at Webster, at Marshall, at Gerhardt. There was nothing that could be said.
This was basically a militaristic mission. Sure, a few archaeologists had been tacked onto the crew, but fundamentally it was Mattern’s men and not Leopold’s who were important. We weren’t out here so much to increase the fund of general knowledge as to find new weapons and new sources of strategic materials for possible use against the Other Hemisphere.
And new weapons had been found. New, undreamed-of weapons, product of a science that had endured for three hundred thousand years. All locked up in Ozymandias’ imperishable skull.
In a harsh voice Leopold said, “Very well, Colonel. I can’t stop you, I suppose.”
He turned and shuffled out without touching his food, a broken, beaten, suddenly very old man.
I felt sick.
Mattern had insisted the planet was useless and that stopping here was a waste of time; Leopold had disagreed, and Leopold had turned out to be right. We had found something of great value.
We had found a machine that could spew forth new and awesome recipes for death. We held in our hands the sum and essence of the Thaiquen science—the science that had culminated in magnificent weapons, weapons so superb they had succeeded in destroying all life on this world. And now we had access to those weapons. Dead by their own hand, the Thaiquens had thoughtfully left us a heritage of death.
Grey-faced, I rose from the table and went to my cabin. I wasn’t hungry now.
“We’ll be blasting off in an hour,” Mattern said behind me as I left. “Get your things in order.”
I hardly heard him. I was thinking of the deadly cargo we carried, the robot so eager to disgorge its fund of data. I was thinking what would happen when our scientists back on Earth began learning from Ozymandias.
The works of the Thaiquens now were ours. I thought of the poet’s lines: “Look on my works, ye Mighty—and despair.”