“Then?”
The Archadministrator hunched his head deeper into his arms, as though not wishing to hear what he himself must say. His voice was a little muffled. “If they are balanced precariously, we must push them a little, Captain. We must push them.”
Devi-en’s stomach churned, and he suddenly tasted his dinner once more in the back of his throat. “Push them, your Height?” He didn’t want to understand.
But the Archadministrator put it bluntly: “We must help them start their nuclear war.” He looked as miserably sick as Devi-en felt. He whispered, “We must!”
Devi-en could scarcely speak. He said, in a whisper, “But how could such a thing be done, your Height?”
“I don’t know how. And do not look at me so. It is not my decision. It is the decision of the Council. Surely you understand what would happen to the Galaxy if a large-primate intelligence were to enter space in full strength without having been tamed by nuclear war.”
Devi-en shuddered at the thought. All that competitiveness loosed on the Galaxy. He persisted, though. “But how does one start a nuclear war? How is it done?”
“I don’t know, I tell you. But there must be some way; perhaps a—a message we might send or a—a crucial rainstorm we might start by cloud seeding. We could manage a great deal with their weather conditions—”
“How would that start a nuclear war?” said Devi-en, unimpressed.
“Maybe it wouldn’t. I mention such a thing only as a possible example. But large primates would know. After all, they are the ones who do start nuclear wars in actual fact. It is in their brain pattern to know. That is the decision the Council came to.”
Devi-en felt the soft noise his tail made as it thumped slowly against the chair. He tried to stop it and failed. “What decision, your Height?”
“To trap a large-primate from the planet’s surface. To kidnap one.”
“A wild one?”
“It’s the only kind that exists at the moment on the planet. Of course, a wild one.”
“And what do you expect him to tell us?”
“That doesn’t matter, Captain. As long as he says enough about anything, mentalic analysis will give us the answer.”
Devi-en withdrew his head as far as he could into the space between his shoulder blades. The skin just under his armpits quivered with repulsion. A wild large-primate being! He tried to picture one, untouched by the stunning aftermath of nuclear war, unaltered by the civilizing influence of Human eugenic breeding.
The Archadministrator made no attempt to hide the fact that he shared the repulsion, but he said, “You will have to lead the trapping expedition, Captain. It is for the good of the Galaxy.”
Devi-en had seen the planet a number of times before, but each time a ship swung about the Moon and placed the world in his line of sight, a wave of unbearable homesickness swept him.
It was a beautiful planet, so like Hurria itself in dimensions and characteristics but wilder and grander. The sight of it, after the desolation of the Moon, was like a blow.
How many other planets like it were on Human master listings at this moment? he wondered. How many other planets were there concerning which meticulous observers had reported seasonal changes in appearance that could be interpreted only as being caused by artificial cultivation of food plants? How many times in the future would a day come when the radioactivity in the stratosphere of one of these planets would begin to climb, when colonizing squadrons would have to be sent out at once. As they were to this planet.
It was almost pathetic, the confidence with which the Hurrians had proceeded at first. Devi-en could have laughed, as he read through those initial reports, if he weren’t trapped in this project himself now. The Hurrian scout ships had moved close to gather geographical information, to locate population centers. They were sighted, of course, but what did it matter? Any time, now, they thought, the final explosion.
Any time… But useless years had passed, and the scout ships wondered if they ought not to be cautious. They moved back.
Devi-en’s ship was cautious now. All the crew was on edge because of the unpleasantness of the mission; not all Devi-en’s assurances that there was no harm intended to the large-primate could quite calm them. Even so, they could not hurry matters. It had to be over a fairly deserted and uncultivated tract of uneven ground that they hovered. They stayed at a height of ten miles for days, while the crew became edgier and only the ever-stolid Mauvs maintained calm.
Then the scope showed them a creature, alone on the uneven ground, a long staff in one hand, a pack across the upper portion of his back.
They lowered silently, supersonically. Devi-en himself, skin crawling, was at the controls.
The creature was heard to say two definite things before he was taken, and they were the first comments recorded for use in mentalic computing.
The first, when the large-primate caught sight of the ship almost upon him, was picked up by the direction telemike. It was “My God! A flying saucer!”
Devi-en understood the first phrase. That was a term for the Human ships that had grown common among the large-primates those first careless years.
The second remark was made when the wild creature was brought in to the ship, struggling with amazing strength, but helpless in the iron grip of the unperturbed Mauvs.
Devi-en, panting, with his fleshly nose quivering slightly, advanced to receive him and the creature (whose unpleasantly hairless face had become oily with some sort of fluid secretion) yelled, “Holy Toledo, a monkey1”
Again, Devi-en understood the second part. It was the word for little-primate in one of the chief languages of the planet.
The wild creature was almost impossible to handle. He required infinite patience before he could be spoken to reasonably. At first, there was nothing but a series of crises. The creature realized almost at once that he was being taken off Earth, and what Devi-en thought might prove an exciting experience for him proved nothing of the sort. He talked instead of his offspring and of a large-primate female.
They have wives and children, thought Devi-en compassionately, and, in their way, love them, for all they are large-primates.
Then he had to be made to understand that the Mauvs who kept him under guard and who restrained him when his violence made that necessary would not hurt him, that he was not to be damaged in any way.
Devi-en was sickened at the thought that one intelligent being might be damaged by another. It was very difficult to discuss the subject, even if only to admit the possibility long enough to deny it. The creature from the planet treated the very hesitation with great suspicion. It was the way the large-primates were.
On the fifth day, when, out of sheer exhaustion perhaps, the creature remained quiet over a fairly extended period, they talked in Devi-en’s private quarters, and suddenly he grew angry again when the Human first explained, matter-of-factly, that they were waiting for a nuclear war.
“Waiting!” cried the creature. “What makes you so sure there will be one?”
Devi-en wasn’t sure, of course, but he said, “There is always a nuclear war. It is our purpose to help you afterward.”
“Help us afterward.” His words grew incoherent. He waved his arms violently, and the Mauvs who flanked him had to restrain him gently once again and lead him away.
Devi-en sighed. The creature’s remarks were building in quantity and perhaps mentalics could do something with them. His own unaided mind could make nothing of it.
And meanwhile the creature was not thriving. His body was almost completely hairless, a fact that long-distance observation had not revealed owing to the artificial skins worn by them. This was either for warmth or because of an instinctive repulsion on the part even of these particular large-primates themselves for hairless skin. It might be an interesting subject to take up. Mentalics computation could make as much out of one set of remarks as another.
Strangely enough, the creature’s face had begun to sprout hair; more in fact than the Human face had and of a dark color.
But still, the central fact was that he was not thriving. He had grown thinner because he was eating poorly and if he was kept too long, his health might suffer. Devi-en had no wish to feel responsible for that.
On the next day, the large-primate seemed quite calm. He talked almost eagerly, bringing the subject around to nuclear warfare almost at once. It had a terrible attraction for the large-primate mind, Devi-en thought. The creature said, “You said nuclear wars always happen. Does that mean there are other people than yours and mine—and theirs?” He indicated the nearby Mauvs.
“There are thousands of intelligent species, living on thousands of worlds. Many thousands,” said Devi-en.
“And they all have nuclear wars?”
“All who have reached a certain stage of technology. All but us. We were different. We lacked competitiveness. We had the cooperative instinct.”
“You mean you know that nuclear wars will happen and you do nothing about it?”