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

Hennessey said, “I know. Most of the time I don’t believe it myself. The extraterrestrials represent what the Russkies are calling a Galactic Confederation. So far as we can figure out, there is some sort of league, United Planets, or whatever you want to call it, of other star systems which have achieved a certain level of scientific development.”

“Well⁠ ⁠… well, why haven’t they shown up before?”

“Possibly they have, through the ages. If so, they kept their presence secret, checked on our development and left.” Hennessey snorted his indignation. “See here, Kuran, I have no details. All of our information comes from Tass, and you can imagine how inadequate that is. Now shut up while I tell you what little I do know.”

Henry Kuran settled back into his chair, feeling limp. He’d had too many curves thrown at him in the past few minutes to assimilate.

“They evidently keep hands off until a planet develops interplanetary exploration and atomic power. And, of course, during the past few years our Russkie pals have not only set up a base on the Moon but have sent off their various expeditions to Venus and Mars.”

“None of them made it,” Hank said.

“Evidently they didn’t have to. At any rate, the plenipotentiaries from the Galactic Confederation have arrived.”

“Wanting what, sir?” Hank said.

“Wanting nothing but to help.” Hennessey said. “Stop interrupting. Our time is limited. You’re going to have to be on a jet for London in half an hour.”

He noticed Hank Kuran’s expression, and shook his head. “No, it’s not farfetched. These other intelligent life forms must be familiar with what it takes to progress to the point of interplanetary travel. It takes species aggressiveness⁠—besides intelligence. And they must have sense enough not to want the wrong kind of aggressiveness exploding into the stars. They don’t want an equivalent of Attila bursting over the borders of the Roman Empire. They want to channel us, and they’re willing to help, to direct our comparatively new science into paths that won’t conflict with them. They want to bring us peacefully into their society of advanced life forms.”

Sheridan Hennessey allowed himself a rueful grimace. “That makes quite a speech, doesn’t it? At any rate, that’s the situation.”

“Well, where do I come into this? I’m afraid I’m on the bewildered side.”

“Yes. Well, damn it, they’ve landed in Moscow. They’ve evidently assumed the Soviet complex⁠—the Soviet Union, China and the satellites⁠—are the world’s dominant power. Our conflicts, our controversies, are probably of little, if any, interest to them. Inadvertently, they’ve put a weapon in the hands of the Soviets that could well end this cold war we’ve been waging for more than twenty-five years now.”

The president’s right-hand man looked off into a corner of the room, unseeingly. “For more than a decade it’s been a bloodless combat that we’ve been waging against the Russkies. The military machines, equally capable of complete destruction of the other, have been stymied Finally it’s boiled down to an attempt to influence the neutrals, India, Africa, South America, to attempt to bring them into one camp or the other. Thus far, we’ve been able to contain them in spite of their recent successes. But given the prestige of being selected the dominant world power by the extraterrestrials and in possession of the science and industrial know-how from the stars, they’ll have won the cold war over night.”

His old eyes flared. “You want to know where you come in, eh? Fine. Your job is to get to these Galactic Confederation emissaries and put a bug in their bonnet. Get over to them that there’s more than one major viewpoint on this planet. Get them to investigate our side of the matter.”

“Get to them how? If the Russkies⁠—”

Hennessey was tired. The flash of spirit was fading. He lifted a thin hand. “One of my assistants is crossing the Atlantic with you. He’ll give you the details.”

“But why me? I’m strictly a⁠—”

“You’re an unknown in Europe. Never connected with espionage. You speak Russian like a native. Morton Twombly says you’re his best man. Your records show that you can think on your feet, and that’s what we need above all.”

Hank Kuran said flatly, “You might have asked for volunteers.”

“We did. You, you and you. The old army game,” Hennessey said wearily. “Mr. Kuran, we’re in the clutch. We can lose, forever⁠—right now. Right in the next month or so. Consider yourself a soldier being thrown into the most important engagement the world has ever seen⁠—combating the growth of the Soviets. We can’t afford such luxuries as asking for volunteers. Now do you get it?”

Hank Kuran could feel impotent anger rising inside him. He was off balance. “I get it, but I don’t like it.”

“None of us do,” Sheridan Hennessey said sourly. “Do you think any of us do?” He must have pressed a button.

From behind them the major’s voice said briskly, “Will you come this way, Mr. Kuran?”

In the limousine, on the way out to the airport, the bright, impossibly cleanly shaven C.I.A. man said, “You’ve never been behind the Iron Curtain before, have you Kuran?”

“No,” Hank said. “I thought that term was passé. Look, aren’t we even going to my hotel for my things?”

The second C.I.A. man, the older one, said, “All your gear will be waiting for you in London. They’ll be sure there’s nothing in it to tip off the K.G.B. if they go through your bags.”

The younger one said, “We’re not sure, things are moving fast, but we suspect that that term, Iron Curtain, applies again.”

“Then how am I going to get in?” Hank said irritably. “I’ve had no background for this cloak and dagger stuff.”

The older C.I.A. man said, “We understand the K.G.B. has increased security measures but they haven’t cut out all travel on the part of non-Communists.”

The other one said, “Probably because the Russkies don’t want to tip off the spacemen that they’re being isolated from the western countries. It would be too conspicuous if suddenly all western travelers disappeared.”

They