A bone-deep shudder went through his body. He turned aside and went into one of the dream rooms, and sat down on the robing bench. The door closed obsequiously behind him.
He looked down into the open capsule, softly padded and just big enough for a man to lie snugly; he touched its midnight-blue lining. The crystal curve of the top was like ice carved paper-thin; the gas vents were lipped by circlets of rose-finished metal, antiseptically bright.
No, he thought. At least, not yet. I've got to think.
A pun, a pun, a beastly, moronic pun…
Pembun had said, "I've made a bad mistake, Commissioner. You remember me asking w'y Colonel Cassina tried so 'ard to get to the Rithch w'en 'e saw we'd found 'im out?"
And Spangler, puzzled, uneasy: "I remember."
"An' I answered myself, that Cassina must 'ave been ordered to do it so that 'e could be killed—becawse of the message in 'is brain that the Rithch wouldn' want us to find."
"You were right, Mr. Pembun."
"No, I was wrong. I ought to 'ave seen it. We know that the Rithch's post-'ypnotic control over Cassina was strong enough to make 'im try to commit suicide; 'e almost succeeded later on, even though we 'ad 'im under close observation and were ready for it. So it wouldn't 'ave made sense for the Rithch to order 'im to come and be killed. If Cassina 'ad tried to kill 'imself, right then, the minute we came into the office, there isn' any doubt that 'e would 'ave been able to do it. We never could 'ave stopped 'im in time."
Spangler's brain had clung to that unanswerable syllogism, and gone around and around with it, and come out nowhere. "What are you getting at?"
"Don't you see, Commissioner? W'at the Rithch rilly wanted was w'at actually 'appened. 'E wanted us to kill 'im— becawse it was in 'is brain, not in Cassina's, that the rilly dangerous information was."
Pembun had paused. Then: "They love life. 'E couldn' bring 'imself to do it, but 'e could arrange it so that we'd be sure to kill 'im, not take 'im alive."
And Spangler, hoarsely: "Are you saying that that message we got from Cassina was a fraud?"
"No. It might be, but I don't think so. I think the Rithch left the genuine message in Cassina's mind, all right, for a joke—and becawse 'e knew that even if we found it, it wouldn' do us any good."
Spangler had hardly recognized his own voice. "I don't understand you. What are you trying to—What do you mean, it wouldn't do us any good?"
No triumph in Pembun's voice, only weariness and regret: "I told you you wouldn' like it, Commissioner. Did you notice there were two Standard phrases in that message?"
"Pet shop and book store. Well?"
"You can say the same things in Rochtik— brutu ka and lessi ka. They're exact translations; there wouldn' 'ave been any danger of confusion at awl."
Spangler had stared at him, silently, for a long moment. Inside him, he had felt as if the solid earth had fallen away beneath him, all but a slender pinnacle on which he sat perched; as if he had to be very careful not to make any sudden motion, lest he slip and tumble down the precipice.
"Did you know," he asked brittlely, "that I would ask Colonel Leclerc what you said to him?"
Pembun nodded. "I thought you might. I thought per'aps it would prepare you, a little. This isn' easy to take."
"What are you waiting for?" Spangler had managed. "Tell me the rest."
"Pet 'appens to be a sound that's used in a good many languages. In Late Terran French it 'as an impolite meaning. But in Twalaz, w'ich is derived from French, it means 'treasure,' and a pet shop would be w'at you cawl a jewelry store.
"Then there's Kah-rin, w'ich is the trade language in the Goren system and some others. In Kah-rin, pet means a toupee. And as for book store, book means 'machine' in Yessuese, 'carpet' in Elda, 'toy' in Baluat—and bukstor means 'public urinal' in Perroschi. Those are just a few that I 'appen to know; there are probly a 'undred others that I never 'eard of.
"Probly the Rithi agreed on w'at language or dialect to use before they came 'ere. It's the kind of thing that would amuse them… I'm sorry. I told you they liked puns, Commissioner… and you know that Earth is the only yuman planet w'ere the language 'asn't evolved in the last four 'undred years…"
Now he understood why Pembun's face was gray: not because Spangler had defeated him in a contest of wills—but because the Empire had had its death-blow.
Night upon night, deep after endless deep; distance without perspective, relation without order: the Universe without the Empire.
One candle, that they had thought would burn forever, now snuffed out and smoking in the darkness.
Another deep shudder racked Spangler's body. Blindly, he crawled into the capsule and closed it over him.
After a long time, he opened his eyes and saw two blurred faces looking in at him. The light hurt his eyes. He bunked until he could see them clearly: one was Pembun and the other was Joanna.
" 'Ow long 'as 'e been in there?" Pembun's voice said.
"I don't know, there must be something wrong with the machine. The dials aren't registering at all." Joanna's voice, but sounding as he had never heard it before. "If the shutoff didn't work—"
"Better cawl a doctor."
"Yes." Joanna's head turned aside and vanished.
"Wait," Spangler said thickly. He struggled to sit up.
Joanna's head reappeared, and both of them stared at him, as if he were a specimen that had unexpectedly come to life. It made Spangler want to laugh.
"Security," he said. "Security has been shot out from under me. That is a pun."
Joanna choked and turned away. After a moment Spangler realized that she was crying. He shook his head violently to clear it and started to climb out of the capsule. Pembun put a hand on his arm.
"Can you 'ear me, Thorne?" he said anxiously. "Do you understand w'at I'm saying?"
"I'm all right," said Spangler, standing up. "Joanna, what's the matter with you?"
She turned. "You're not—"
"I'm all right. I was tired, and I crawled in there to rest. I stayed there, thinking, for an hour or so. Then I must have fallen asleep."
She took one step and was pressed tight against him, her cheek against his throat, her arms clutching him fiercely. Her body trembled.
"You were gone six hours," Pembun said. "I got Miss Planter's name from your emergency listing, and we've been looking for you ever since. I shouldn' 'ave jumped to conclusions, I guess." He turned to go.
"Wait," said Spangler again. He felt weak, but very clear-headed and confident. "Please. I have something to say to you."
Joanna pulled away from him abruptly and began hunting for a tissue. Spangler got one out of his pouch and handed it to her.
"Thanks," she said in a small voice, and sat down on the bench.
"This is for you, too, Joanna," said Spangler soberly. "Part of it." He turned to Pembun.
"You were wrong," he said.
Pembun's face slowly took on a resigned expression. " 'Ow?"
"You told me, under interrogation, that your only reason for working with the Empire, against its rivals, was that the Empire was necessary to the Outworlds—that if it broke up too soon, the Outworlds would not be strong enough to stand by themselves."
"If you say so, I'll take your word for it, Commissioner."
"You said it. Do you deny it now?"
"No."
"You were wrong. You justified your position by saying that the Outworlds would be forced to overspecialize, like the Empire, in order to break away from it… that the cure would be worse than the disease. You've given your life to work that must have been distasteful to you, every minute of it." He took a deep breath. "I can't imagine why, unless you were reasoning on the basis of two assumptions that a twenty-first century schoolboy could have disproved—that like causes invariably produce like results, and that the end justifies the means."