“Why should I want out of my first assignment?”
“Listen, and find out.” Stetson crossed to a tilt-locker beside the big translite map, hauled out a white coverall uniform with gold insignia, tossed it to Orne. “Get into these while I brief you.”
“But this is an R&R uni—”
“Get that damn uniform on your ugly frame!”
“Yes, sir, Admiral Stetson, sir. Right away, sir. But I thought I was through with old Rediscovery & Reeducation when you drafted me into the I-A.” He began changing from the I-A blue into the R&R white. Almost as an afterthought, he said: “…sir.”
A wolfish grin cracked Stetson’s big features. “You know, Orne, one of the reasons I drafted you was your proper attitude of subservience toward authority.”
Orne sealed the long seam of the coverall uniform. “Oh, yes, sir… sir.”
“All right, knock it off and pay attention.” Stetson gestured at the translite map with its green superimposed grid. “Here we are.” He put a finger on the map. “Here’s that city we flew over on our way down.” The finger moved. “You’ll head for the city as soon as we drop you. The city’s big enough that if you hold a course roughly northeast you can’t miss it. We’re…”
Again the call bell rang, the light flashed.
“What is it this time, Hal?” Stetson barked.
“They’ve changed to Plan H, Stet. New orders cut.”
“Five days?”
“That’s all they can give us.”
“Holy…”
“ComGo says we can’t keep the information out of High Commissioner Bullone’s hands any longer than that.”
“It’s five days then.” Stetson sighed.
Orne moved closer to the map, asked: “Is it the usual R&R foul-up?”
Stetson grimaced. “Worse, thanks to Bullone and company. We’re just one jump ahead of another catastrophe, but they still pump the Rah & Rah into the boys back at dear old Uni-Galacta.”
“It’s either go out and rediscover the lost planets or let them rediscover us,” Orne said. “I prefer the former.”
“Yeah, and we’re going to rediscover one too many someday, but this Gienah is a different breed of fish. It’s not, repeat not, a rediscovery.”
Orne felt his muscles stiffen. “Alien?”
“A-L-I-E-N,” Stetson spelled it out. “A species and a culture we’ve never before contacted. That language you were force-fed on the way out here, that’s an alien language. It’s not complete, but all we have off the minis. And we didn’t give you the basic data, what little we have, on the natives, because we’ve been hoping to scrub this place and nobody the wiser.”
“Holy mazoo! Why?”
“Twenty-six days ago an I-A sector searcher came on this planet, made a routine mini-sneaker survey. When he combed in his net of sneakers to check their data, lo and behold he had a little stranger.”
“One of theirs?”
“No, one of ours. It was a mini off the Delphinus. Rediscovery. The Delphinus has been unreported for eighteen standard months. Cause of disappearance unknown.”
“You think it cracked up here?”
“We don’t know. If it did crash on Gienah, we haven’t been able to spot it. And we’ve looked, son. Believe me, we’ve looked. And now we’ve something else on our minds. It’s the one, little item that makes me want to blot Gienah and run home with my tail between my legs. We’ve a…” Again the call bell chimed.
“NOW WHAT?” Stetson roared.
“I’ve sneaked a mini over that mob, Stet. They’re talking about us, near as I can make out. It looks like a definite raiding party and armed.”
“What armament?”
“Too gloomy down there to be absolutely certain. The infra beam’s not working on this mini. They look like hard pellet rifles of some kind, though. Might even be off the Delphinus.”
“Can you get closer to make sure?”
“No sense risking it without the infra. Light’s very poor down there. They’re moving up fast, though.”
“Keep an eye on them, but don’t ignore the other sectors,” Stetson said.
“You think I was born yesterday?” The voice from the speaker was an angry rasping. The sound bapped off with a curt abruptness.
“One thing I like about the I-A,” Stetson said. “It collects such even-tempered types.” He stared gloomily at the white uniform on Orne, wiped a hand across his mouth as though he’d tasted something dirty.
“Why am I wearing this thing?” Orne asked.
“Disguise.”
“But where’s the mustache to go with it?”
Stetson smiled without humor. “I-A is developing its own answer to these fatkeistered politicians. We’re setting up our own search system; find the planets before they do. We’ve managed to put spies in key places at R&R. Any touchy planets our spies report, we divert the files.”
“Oh.”
“Then we look into said planets with bright boys such as yourself… disguised as R&R.”
“Goody. And what happens if R&R stumbles onto me while I’m down there playing patty-cake with the aliens?”
“We disown you.”
“Nuts! The never… Hey! You said an I-A ship found this place.”
“It did. Then one of our spies in R&R intercepted a routine request for an agent instructor to be assigned here with full equipment. Request signed by a First-Contact officer name of Riso… off the Delphinus!”
“But the…”
“Yeah, missing. The routine request was a forgery. And now you see why I’m for rubbing this place. Who’d dare forge such a request unless we knew for sure the original F-C officer was missing… or dead?”
“Stet, what the jumped-up mazoo are we doing here?” Orne demanded. “Alien contact calls for a full team of experts with all the…”
“This one calls for one planet-buster bomb, buster. In five days. Unless you give them a white bill in the meantime. High Commissioner Bullone will have word of this planet by then. If Gienah still exists in five days, can you imagine the fun the politicians’ll have with it? Oh, Mamma! Orne, we want this planet cleared for contact or dead before then.”
“We’re allowing ourselves to be stampeded,” Orne said. “I don’t like this. Look at what happened on…”
“YOU don’t like it!”
“There has to be another way, Stet. When we teamed up with the Alerinoids we gained five hundred years in the physical sciences alone, not to mention the…”
“The Alerinoids didn’t knock over one of our survey ships.”
“But what if the Delphinus crashed here? That’s a big jungle. If the locals just stumbled onto…”
“That’s what you’re going to find out, Orne. I hope. You’re going to be the answer to their routine request, an R&R agent-instructor. But answer me this, Mister R&R, how long before a tool-using species could be a threat to the Galaxy—given the information that’s in your head?”
“You saw that city, the size of it. They could be dug in within six months and there’d be no…”
“Yeah.”
Orne shook his head. “But think of it: two civilizations that matured along different lines. Think of all the different ways we’d approach similar problems, the lever that’d give us for…”
“You sound like a Uni-Galacta lecture. Are you through marching arm and arm into the misty future?”
Orne took a deep breath. He felt that he was being pushed too fast to make rational decisions. He asked: “Why me? You’re tossing me into this. Why?”