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

They grinned at him, shamefaced. “Guess not,” Dean said. “We were kidnaped. We’ve been teaching basic science, in some phony monastery.”

Watson’s face was white. “Joe,” he said.

“Yeah,” Joe Chessman growled. “You sold me out. But Taller and the Texcocans thought I was still of some use.”

Amschel Mayer snapped, bitterly, “And now if you fools will put down your stupid guns, we’ll make the final arrangements for returning this expedition to Terra City. Personally, I’ll be glad to get away!”

Behind the five resurrected Earthmen were a sea of faces representing the foremost figures of both Texcoco and Genoa in every field of endeavor. At least fifty of them in all.

As though protectively, the eleven Earthmen ganged together at the far side of the messtable they’d met over so often.

Martin Gunther, his expression dazed, said, “I⁠ ⁠… I don’t⁠—”

Taller resumed his spokesmanship. “From the first the most progressive elements on both Texcoco and Genoa realized the value of your expedition and have been in fundamental sympathy with the aims the Pedagogue originally had. Primitive life is not idyllic. Until man is free from nature’s tyranny and has solved the basic problems of sufficient food, clothing, shelter, medical care and education for all, he is unable to realize himself. So we cooperated with you to the extent we found possible.”

His smile was grim. “I am afraid that almost from the beginning, and on both planets, your very actions developed an⁠ ⁠… underground, I believe you call it. Not an overt one, since we needed your assistance to build the new industrialized culture you showed us was possible. We even protected you against yourselves, since it soon became obvious that if left alone you’d destroy each other in your addiction to power.”

Baron Leonar broke in, “Don’t misunderstand. It wasn’t until the past couple of decades that this underground which had sprung up independently on both planets, amalgamated.”

Barry Watson blurted, “But Joe⁠ ⁠… Chessman⁠—” he refused to meet the eye of the man he’d condemned.

Taller said, “From the first you made no effort to study our customs. If you had, you’d have realized why my father allied himself to you after you’d killed Taller First. And why I did not take my revenge on Chessman after he’d killed Reif. A Khan’s first training is that no personal emotion must interfere with the needs of the People. When you turned Joe Chessman over to me, I realized his education, his abilities were too great to destroy. We sent him to a mountain university and have used him profitably all these years. In fact, it was Chessman who finally brought us to space travel.”

“That’s right,” Buchwald blurted. “You’ve got a spaceship out there. How could you possibly⁠—?”

Taller said mildly, “There are but a handful of you, you could hardly keep track of two whole planets and all that went on upon them.”

Amschel Mayer said bitingly, “All this can be gone over on our return to Terra City. We’ll have a full year to explain to ourselves and each other why we became such complete idiots. I was originally head of this expedition⁠—before my supposed friends railroaded me to prison⁠—does anyone object if I take over again?”

“No,” Joe Chessman growled.

The others shook their heads.

Taller said, “There is but one other thing. In spite of how you may feel at this moment of embarrassment, basically you have succeeded in your task. That is, you have brought Texcoco and Genoa to an industrialized culture. We hold various reservations about how you accomplished this. However, when you return to your Coordinator of Galactic Colonization, please inform him that we are anxious to receive his ambassadors. The term is ambassadors and we will expect to meet on a basis of equality. Surely in all Earth’s millennia of social evolution man has worked out something better than either of your teams have built here. We should like to be instructed.”

Dick Hawkins said stiffly, “We can instruct you on Earth’s present socioeconomic system.”

“I am afraid we no longer trust you, Richard Hawkins. Send others⁠—uncorrupted by power, privilege or great wealth.”

When they had gone and the sound of their departing spacecraft had faded, Amschel Mayer snapped, “We might as well get underway. And cheer up, confound it, we have lots of time to contrive a reasonable report for the Coordinator.”

Jerry Kennedy managed a thin grin, almost reminiscent of the younger Kennedy of the first years on Genoa. “Say,” he said, “I wonder if we’ll be granted a good long vacation before being sent on another assignment.”

Henry Kuran answered a nod here and there, a called out greeting from a desk an aisle removed from the one along which he was progressing, finally made the far end of the room. He knocked at the door and pushed his way through before waiting a response.

There were three desks here. He didn’t recognize two of the girls who looked up at his entry. One of them began to say something, but then Betty, whose desk dominated the entry to the inner sanctum, grinned a welcome at him and said, “Hank! How was Peru? We’ve been expecting you.”

“Full of Incas,” he grinned back. “Incas, Russkies and Chinks. A poor capitalist conquistador doesn’t have a chance. Is the boss inside?”

“He’s waiting for you, Hank. See you later.”

Hank said, “Um-m-m,” and when the door clicked in response to the button Betty touched, pushed his way into the inner office.

Morton Twombly, chief of the department, came to his feet, shook hands abruptly and motioned the other to a chair.

“How’re things in Peru, Henry?” His voice didn’t express too much real interest.

Hank said, “We were on the phone just a week ago, Mr. Twombly. It’s about the same. No, the devil it is. The Chinese have just run in their new People’s Car. They look something like our jeep station-wagons did fifteen years ago.”

Twombly stirred in irritation. “I’ve heard about them.”

Hank took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and polished his rimless glasses. He said evenly, “They sell for just