Short Fiction by Mack Reynolds (ready to read books .TXT) 📕

Mayer indicated the Texcocans. “Do you think it necessary to bring armed men aboard the Pedagogue? Frankly, I have not even revealed to a single Genoese the existence of the ship.”

Jerry Kennedy was seated to one side, the only member of Mayer’s team who had accompanied him for this meeting. Kennedy winked at Watson and Chessman. Watson grinned back but held his peace.

Plekhanov sank into a chair, rumbling, “We hold no secrets from the Texcocans. The sooner they advance to where they can use our libraries and laboratories, the better. And the fact these boys are armed has no significance. My Tulans are currently embarked on a campaign to unite the planet. Arms are sometimes necessary, and Tula, my capital, is somewhat of an armed camp. All able-bodied men⁠—”

Mayer broke in heatedly, “And is this the method you use to bring civilization to Texcoco? Is this what you consider the purpose of the Office of Galactic Colonization? An armed camp! How many persons have you slaughtered thus far?”

“Easy,” Joe Chessman growled.

Amschel Mayer spun on him. “I need no instruction from you, Chessman. Please remember I’m senior in charge of this expedition and as such rank you.”

Plekhanov thudded a heavy hand on the table. “I’ll call my assistants to order, Mayer, if I feel it necessary. Admittedly, when this expedition left Terra City you were the ranking officer. Now, however, we’ve divided⁠—at your suggestion, please remember. Now there are two independent groups and you no longer have jurisdiction over mine.”

“Indeed!” Mayer barked. “And suppose I decide to withhold the use of the Pedagogue’s libraries and laboratories to you? I tell you, Plekhanov⁠—”

Leonid Plekhanov interrupted him coldly. “I would not suggest you attempt any such step, Mayer.”

Mayer glared but suddenly reversed himself. “Let’s settle down and become more sensible. This is the first conference of the five we have scheduled. Ten years have elapsed. Actually, of course, we’ve had some idea of each other’s progress since team members occasionally meet on trips back here to the Pedagogue to consult the library. I am afraid, my dear Leonid, that your theories on industrialization are rapidly being proven inaccurate.”

“Nonsense!”

Mayer said smoothly, “In the decade past, my team’s efforts have more than tripled the Genoese industrial potential. Last week one of our steamships crossed the second ocean. We’ve located petroleum and the first wells are going down. We’ve introduced a dozen crops that had disappeared through misadventure to the original colonists. And, oh yes, our first railroad is scheduled to begin running between Bari and Ronda next spring. There are six new universities and in the next decade I expect fifty more.”

“Very good, indeed,” Plekhanov grumbled.

“Only a beginning. The breath of competition, of unharnessed enterprise is sweeping Genoa. Feudalism crumbles. Customs, mores and traditions that have held up progress for a century or more are now on their way out.”

Joe Chessman growled, “Some of the boys tell me you’ve had a few difficulties with this crumbling feudalism thing. In fact, didn’t Buchwald barely escape with his life when the barons on your western continent united to suppress all chartered cities?”

Mayer’s thin face darkened. “Never fear, my dear Joseph, those barons responsible for shedding the blood of western hemisphere elements of progress will shortly pay for their crimes.”

“You’ve got military problems too, then?” Barry Watson asked.

Mayer’s eyes went to him in irritation. “Some of the free cities of Genoa are planning measures to regain their property and rights on the western hemisphere. This has nothing to do with my team, except, of course, in so far as they might sell them supplies or equipment.”

The lanky Watson laughed lowly, “You mean like selling them a few quick-firing breech-loaders and trench mortars?”

Plekhanov muttered, “That’ll be enough, Barry.”

But Mayer’s eyes had widened. “How did you know?” He whirled on Plekhanov. “You’re spying on my efforts, trying to negate my work!”

Plekhanov rumbled, “Don’t be a fool, Mayer. My team has neither the time nor interest to spy on you.”

“Then how did you know⁠—”

Barry Watson said mildly, “I was doing some investigation in the ship’s library. I ran into evidence that you people had already used the blueprints for breech-loaders and mortars.”

Jerry Kennedy came to his feet and rambled over to the messroom’s bar. “This seems to be all out spat, rather than a conference to compare progress,” he said. “Anybody for a drink? Frankly, that’s the next thing I’m going to introduce to Genoa, some halfway decent likker. Do you know what those benighted heathens drink now?”

Watson grinned. “Make mine whisky, Jerry. You’ve no complaints. Our benighted heathens have a national beverage fermented from a plant similar to cactus. Ought to be drummed out of the human race.”

He spoke idly, forgetful of the Tulan guards stationed at the doorway.

Kennedy passed drinks around for everyone save Mayer, who shook his head in distaste. If only for a brief spell, some of the tenseness left the air while the men from Earth sipped their beverages.

Jerry Kennedy said, “Well, you’ve heard our report. How go things on Texcoco?”

“According to plan,” Plekhanov rumbled.

Mayer snorted.

Plekhanov said ungraciously, “Our prime effort is now the uniting of the total population into one strong whole, a super-state capable of accomplishing the goals set us by the Coordinator.”

Mayer sneered, “Undoubtedly, this goal of yours, this super-state, is being established by force.”

“Not always,” Joe Chessman said. “Quite a few of the tribes join up on their own. Why not? The State has a lot to offer.”

“Such as what?” Kennedy said mildly.

Chessman looked at him in irritation. “Such as advanced medicine, security from famine, military protection from more powerful nations. The opportunity for youth to get an education and find advancement in the State’s government⁠—if they’ve got it on the ball.”

“And what happens if they don’t have it on the ball?”

Chessman growled, “What happens to such under any society? They get the dirty-end-of-the-stick jobs.” His eyes went from Kennedy to Mayer. “Are you suggesting you offer anything better?”

Mayer said, “Already on most of Genoa it is a matter