The Science Fiction Anthology. Филип Дик
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a bad deal and I would have been satisfied, except that something had happened to Yuan Saltario.
Maybe it made him realize that he did not want to die after all. Or maybe it turned him space-happy and he began to dream. A dream of his own born up there in the cold of his dead planet. A dream that nearly cost me my Company.
I did not know what that dream was until Saltario came into my office a year later. He had a job for the Company.
“How many men?” I asked.
“Our Company and Rajay-Ben’s Patrol,” Saltario said.
“Full strength?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Price?”
“Standard, sir,” Saltario said. “The party will pay.”
“Just a trip to your old planet?”
“That’s all,” Saltario said. “A guard contract. The hiring party just don’t want any interference with their project.”
“Two full Companies? Forty thousand men? They must expect to need a lot of protecting.”
“United Galaxies opposes the project. Or they will if they get wind of it.”
I said, “United opposes a lot of things, what’s special about this scheme?”
Saltario hesitated, then looked at me with those flat black eyes. “Ionics.”
It’s not a word you say, or hear, without a chill somewhere deep inside. Not even me and I know a man can survive ionic weapons. I know because I did once. Weapons so powerful I’m one of the last men alive who saw them in action. Mathematically the big ones could wipe out a Galaxy. I saw a small one destroy a star in ten seconds. I watched Saltario for a long time. It seemed a long time, anyway. It was probably twenty seconds. I was wondering if he had gone space-crazy for keeps. And I was thinking of how I could find out what it was all about in time to stop it.
I said, “A hundred Companies won’t be enough. Saltario, have you ever seen or heard what an ionic bomb can ...”
Saltario said, “Not weapons, peaceful power.”
“Even that’s out and you know it,” I said. “United Galaxies won’t even touch peaceful ionics, too dangerous to even use.”
“You can take a look first.”
“A good look,” I said.
I alerted Rajay-Ben and we took two squads and a small ship and Saltario directed us to a tall mountain that jutted a hundred feet above the ice of Nova-Maurania. I was not surprised. In a way I think I knew from the moment Saltario walked into my office. Whatever it was Saltario was part of it. And I had a pretty good idea what it was. The only question was how. But I didn’t have time to think it out any farther. In the Companies you learn to feel danger.
The first fire caught four of my men. Then I was down on the ice. They were easy to see. Black uniforms with white wedges. Pete O’Hara’s White Wedge Company, Earthmen. I don’t like fighting other Earthmen, but a job’s a job and you don’t ask questions in the Companies. It looked like a full battalion against our two squads. On the smooth ice surface there was no cover except the jutting mountain top off to the right. And no light in the absolute darkness of a dead star. But we could see through our viewers, and so could they. They outnumbered us ten to one. Rajay-Ben’s voice came through the closed circuit.
“Bad show, Red, they got our pants down!”
“You call it,” I answered.
“Break silence!”
Surrender. When a Company breaks silence in a battle it means surrender. There was no other way. And I had a pretty good idea that the Council itself was behind O’Hara on this job. If it was ionics involved, they wouldn’t ransom us. The Council had waited a long time to catch Red Stone in an execution offense. They wouldn’t miss.
But forty of our men were down already.
“Okay,” I beamed over the circuit, “break silence. We’ve had it Rajay.”
“Council offense, Red.”
“Yeah.”
Well, I’d had a lot of good years. Maybe I’d been a soldier too long. I was thinking just like that when the sudden flank attack started. From the right. Heavy fire from the cover of the solitary mountain top. O’Hara’s men were dropping. I stared through my viewer. On that mountain I counted the uniforms of twenty-two different Companies. That was very wrong. Whoever Saltario was fronting for could not have the power or the gold to hire twenty-four Companies including mine and Rajay-Ben’s. And the fire was heavy but not that heavy. But whoever they were they were very welcome. We had a chance now. And I was making my plans when the tall old man stood up on the small, jutting top of that mountain. The tall old man stood up and a translating machine boomed out.
“All of you! O’Hara’s men! Look at this!”
I saw it. In a beam of light on the top of that mountain it looked like a small neutron-source machine. But it wasn’t. It was an ionic beam projector.
The old man said, “Go home.”
They went. They went fast and silent. And I knew where they were going. Not to Salaman. O’Hara would have taken one look at that machine and be half way to United Galaxy Center before he had stopped seeing it. I felt like taking that trip myself. But I had agreed to look and I would look. If we were lucky we would have forty-eight hours to look and run.
I fell in what was left of my Company behind the men that had saved us. More Company uniforms than I had ever seen in one place. They said nothing. Just walked into a hole in that mountain. Into a cave. And in the cave, at the far end, a door opened. An elevator. We followed the tall old man into the elevator and it began to descend. The elevator car went down for a long time. At last I could see a faint glow far below. The glow grew brighter and the car stopped. Far below the glow was still brighter. We all stepped out into a long corridor cut from solid rock. I estimated that we were at least two hundred miles down and the glow was hundreds of miles deeper. We went through three sealed doors and emerged into a vast room. A room bright with light and filled with more men in Company uniforms, civilians, even women. At least a thousand. And I saw it. The thousand refugees, all of them. Gathered from all the Companies, from wherever they had been in the Galaxies. Gathered here in a room two hundred miles into the heart of their dead planet. A room filled with giant machines. Ionic machines. Highly advanced ionic power reactors.
The old man stood in front of his people and spoke. “I am Jason Portario, I thank you for coming.”
I broke in, “Ionic power is an execution offense. You know that. How the hell did you get all this ...”
“I know the offense, Commander,” Portario said, “and I know you. You’re a fair man. You’re a brave man. It doesn’t matter where we got the power, many men are dead to get it, but we have it, and we will keep it. We have a job to do.”
I said, “After that stunt out there you’ve about as much chance as a snowball in hell. O’Hara’s half way to Galaxy Center. Look, with a little luck we get you out to Salaman. If you leave all this equipment I might be able to hide you until it blows over.”
The old man shrugged. “I would have preferred not to show our hand, but we had to save you. I was aware that the Council would find us out sooner or later, they missed the ionic material a month ago. But that is unimportant. The important matter is will you take our job? All we need is another two days, perhaps three. Can you hold off an attack for that long?”
“Why?” I asked.
Portario smiled. “All right, Commander, you should know all we plan. Sit down, and let me finish before you speak.”
I sat. Rajay-Ben sat. The agitation of his colored lights showed that he was as disturbed as I was. The thousand Nova-Mauranians stood there in the room and watched us.