"A time, sir?" burst out Kana passionately. "For three hundred years we've played their game — "
"What is three hundred years on the Galactic chessboard?" Hansu returned calmly. "Yes, for three hundred years we have taken their orders. Only now they must be beginning to realize that their plan is not working. I'm not sure that their motives had been plain even to them. They have played omnipotence so long that they have come to believe in their godhead — that they can make no wrong moves. For they have always operated against us under cover — until now.
"From the first we have had friends, and we are gaining more. And those worlds would ask questions if Terra were summarily condemned and restricted to its own system. Perhaps their own over-civilized minds shrink from such a practical solution, or have in the past. But where they could, they have cut us off. Terrans are not accepted in the Patrol — that is the service for `superior' races. Traders do not allow us to join their companies. Even the war we play at is carefully denatured — though we still die The most modern Mech equipment is years behind weapons the inhabitants of — say Garmir — already consider obsolete."
"But, sir, why this move with the cruiser?"
"Either some hot heads on the Council are going to push through ideas of their own, or they have begun to wake up to the fact that we Terrans are not exactly what we seem." Hansu turned his head and gave Kana a measuring glance which was sharp enough to reach into his mind.
"Why do you suppose that we have X-Tee training — that we make an AL man a necessary member of every Horde and Legion lifting off-world?"
"Why — you need liaison officers on other worlds, sir."
"That is the correct official explanation — and one which no Control Agent can successfully counter. But any Terran with the proper temperament for X-Tee is screened and classified from the moment of his first response to the tests. He is given, unobtrusively, all the instruction we can cram into him. He is urged to meet X-Tees on a friendly basis — under cover. And when he enlists he is given every opportunity by his commanding officers to widen his knowledge of other planets."
"So that was why you wanted me to contact Venturi, sir?"
"Yes. And that is why you went to Po'ult. We have long known that we must have all the AL men we can get. And the wider their acquaintance with other life forms the better for us. If we must challenge C.C. in the open, we cannot stand alone. And the more races friendly to us, or at least with a favorable knowledge of us, the better. Incidentally we may be preparing ourselves for another form of service entirely. What if Terra in the future was to provide not fighting men but exploring teams?"
"Exploring teams?"
"Groups of trained explorers to pioneer on newly discovered planets, to prepare for colonization those worlds where there may be no intelligent native life. Groups, the members of which are selected for their individual talents, going not as Patrol nor traders, not as police or merchants, but only to discover what lies in orbit around the next sun. Groups including not only our own kind, but combining in a working unit half a dozen different species of X-Tees — telepaths, techneers, some not even vaguely humanoid."
"Do you think that can be done, sir?" demanded Kana, finding in the idea an answer to his own half-formed dream.
"Why not? And the time may not be too far off. Let us reach Matthias with our report on Fronn and he'll have a concrete argument to use in Combat circles against C.C. Suppose that all the Hordes and Legions now scattered up and down the Galaxy received orders to rebel. Such a situation would upset C.C. and bring an end to their carefully supervised peace. It would be cheaper to let us go our way than to tackle rebellions and uprisings on some hundreds of planets at once."
"I've heard a lot of rumors, sir, but nothing about revolt — "
"I should hope not!" countered the Blademaster. "Most of Combat are conservative. And we of Terra have lived a specialized life for generations. Combatants haven't much interest beyond the affairs of their own Horde or Legion. At Prime they try to locate the records of those with promise, to steer the men into enlistments where they can serve the cause best. But this mess on Fronn is going to bring the latent danger of our position home — to even the most hidebound of the Big Brass. Once they see that Terran can be turned against Terran with the approval of Central Control, that Mech can be used to hunt down Arch — they will listen to what we have to say." Hansu balled his fist and thumped it on the edge of his pad. "Time — just give us time enough! We must reach Matthias and he'll touch off the powder!"
16. Road To Prime
But for the two inside the escape craft time moved leadenly. They could only sleep, cramped in the single position allowed them, swallow ration tablets, and talk. And talk Hansu did, spinning in an endless stream tales of far-off worlds on some of which their kind dared not venture, save in the protection of pressure suits, of weird native rites, and savage battles against stacked odds.
Kana forced himself to concentrate on every word, as if he were required to pass an examination on these lectures, for by doing so, he could forget the present, sealed in a minute ship which might or might not make a safe landing on his home world. And he also knew that his companion was now sharing freely with him the lore he himself had spent years in gathering. He was being crammed by a master in X-Tee, a man who was explaining the central passion of his own existence.
" — so they had a sacrifice on the night of the double moon and we hid out in the hills to watch. It wasn't at all what we had been led to expect — "
A sharp "ping" interrupted Hansu as a tiny bulb glowed red among the controls. They had entered atmosphere!
Kana tried to relax. The worst nightmare of all, that they would miss their home world and go traveling on forever into empty space, was behind them. There was still nothing to do — nothing they could do. Escape craft were entirely robot controlled — often those who rode in them were too injured or shocked to pilot any course. The tiny ships were designed to make the best landing possible for the passengers and they were to be trusted.
Where would they land? Kana stared blankly at the curve of metal roofing above him. A bad landing — say in the sea But they did not have long to wait, that was a mercy.
"I hope we don't land too far from Prime, sir." He forced himself to deliver that in as even a voice as possible.
"We'd better not!"
When they did come in Kana discovered himself hanging head down in the straps and, panicked by that, he fought his fastenings, unable to loosen the buckles. Then the Blademaster came to the recruit's rescue and got him on his feet. The rear of the narrow cabin was now the floor, and the roof hatch through which they had entered was a side door the Blademaster turned to open. They wedged into the small air lock, to be met by a blaze of fire and billows of stifling white smoke. Hansu slammed the outer door, his face grim.
"The braking system — " he muttered. "It must have started a fire when we landed."
Fire — the ship must be surrounded by flames. But the memory of one of Hansu's exploring tales flashed into Kana's mind.
"Aren't pressure suits part of the regular survival equipment stored on board these things, sir?"
"That's it!" Hansu edged back into the cabin.
The walls were solid, a few experimental raps told them there were no concealed cupboards. There remained the padded couches. Kana pulled at the surface of one, and the spongy mat came off in a sheet. He had been right! The base of each couch was a storage space and the suits were inside.
"They're going to be tight fits" — the Blademaster inspected the finds — "but we can stand them for at least an hour."