Victory Page 7

  VII

  Earth lay fat and smug under the sun, seemingly unchanged since Dukehad left it. For generations the populace had complained that they weredraining themselves dry to rebuild other worlds, but they had grownrich on the investment. It was the only planet where men worked shorterand shorter hours to give them more leisure in which to continue afrantic effort to escape boredom. It was also the only world where themention of aliens made men think of their order books instead of theirweapons.

  Duke walked steadily away from the grotesquely elaborate landing field.He had less than thirty cents in his pocket, but his breakfast aboardhad left him satisfied for the moment. He turned onto a wider street,heading the long distance across the city toward the most probablelocation of the recruiting stations.

  The Outer Federation station would be off the main section, since theofficial line was disapproving of such a union. But he was sure therewould be one. The system of recruiting was a tradition too hard tobreak. Earth used it as an escape valve for her troublemakers. Andsince such volunteers made some of the best of all fighters, they hadalready decided the outcome of more than one war. By carefully jugglingthe attention given the stations, Earth could influence the battleswithout seeming to do so.

  The air was thick with the smell of late summer, and there was pleasurein that, until Duke remembered the odor of Meloa, and its cause. Laterthe cloying perfume of women mixed with the normal industrial odors ofthe city, until his nose was overdriven to the point of cutoff. He sawthings in the shop windows that he had forgotten, but he had no desirefor them. And over everything came the incessant yammer of voicessaying nothing, radios blaring, television babbling, and vendingmachines shouting.

  He gave up at last and invested half his small fund in a subway. It wasequally noisy, but it took less time. Beside him, a fungoid creaturefrom Clovis was busy practicing silently on its speaking machine, butnobody else seeemed to notice.

  Duke's head was spinning when he reached the surface again. He stoppedto let it clear, wondering if he'd ever found this world home. Itwouldn't matter soon, though; once he was signed up at the recruitingstation, there would be no time to think.

  He saw the sign, only a few blocks from where the recruiting postersfor Meloa had been so long ago. It was faded, but he could read thelettering, and he headed for it. As he had expected, it was on a dirtyback street, where the buildings were a confusion of shipping concernsand cheaper apartment houses.

  He knew something was wrong when he was a block away. There was nopitch being delivered by a barking machine, and no idle group watchingthe recruiting efforts on the street. In fact, nobody was in front ofthe vacant store that had been used, and the big posters were rippeddown.

  He reached the entrance and stopped. The door was half open, but itcarried a notice that the place had been closed by order of the WorldForeign Office. Through the dirty glass, Duke could see a young man ofabout twenty sitting slumped behind a battered desk.

  He stepped in and the boy looked up apathetically. "You're too late,captain. Neutrality went on hours ago when the first word came through.Caught me just ready to ship out--after two lousy months recruitinghere, I have to be the one stranded."

  "You're lucky," Duke told him mechanically, not sure whether he meantit or not. Oddly, the idea of a kid like this mixed up in aninterplanetary war bothered him. He turned to go, then hesitated. "Gota newspaper or a directory around that I could borrow?"

  The boy fished a paper out of a wastebasket. "It's all yours, captain.The whole place is yours. Slam the door when you go out. I'm going overto the Cathay office."

  "I'll go along," Duke offered. The address of that place was all he'dwanted from the paper. He'd have preferred the Federation to joining upwith Earth colonists, but beggars never made good choosers.

  The kid shook his head. He dragged open a drawer, found a slip ofpaper, and handed it over. It was a notice that the legal maximum agefor recruiting had been reduced to thirty! "You'd never make it,captain," he said.

  Duke looked at the paper in his hands and at the dim reflection of hisface in a window. "No," he agreed. "I didn't make it."

  He followed the boy to the door, staring out at the street, thick withits noises and smells. He dropped to the doorsill and looked briefly upat the sky where two ships were cutting out to space. Flannery hadknown the regulation and hadn't told him. Yet it was his own fault; theage limit was lower now, but there had always been a limit. He hadsimply forgotten that he'd grown older.

  He found it hard to realize he'd been no older than the kid when he'dsigned up for the war with Throm.

  * * * * *

  For a while he sat looking at the street, trying to realize what hadhappened to him. It took time to face the facts. He listened with halfhis attention as a small group of teen-age boys came from one of thebuildings and began exchanging angry insults with another groupapparently waiting for them on the corner. From their attitudes, someof them were carrying weapons and were half-eager, half-afraid to usethem. It was hard to remember back to the time when such things hadseemed important to him. He considered putting a stop to the argument,before it got out of hand, since no police were near; but adults had nobusiness in kid fights. He watched them retreat slowly back to analley, still shouting to work up their courage. Maybe he should be gladthat there was even this much fire left under the smug placidity ofEarth.

  Finally, he picked up the newspaper from where he'd dropped it andbegan turning back to the want ads. His needs were few, and thereshould be dishwashing jobs, at least, somewhere in the city. He stillhad to eat and find some place to sleep.

  A headline glared up at him, catching his attention. He started to skimthe story, and then read it thoroughly. Things weren't going at all ashe'd expected in the Outer Worlds, if the account were true; andusually, such battle reports weren't altered much.

  The aliens had developed a union of their own--if anything, a strongerone than the humanoids had. Apparently they'd chased the Federationships into some kind of a trap. Losses on both sides were huge. Andraids had begun on all the alien and humanoid planets.

  He scowled as he came to the latest developments. One section of theFederation fleet under Sra of Chumkt had pulled out, accusing thefaction headed by Barth Nevesh of leading the aliens to the humanoidrendezvous. Kel's leader had gone after the deserters, fought it outwith them in the middle of the larger battle, killed Sra, and declaredhimself the head of the whole Federation. It was madness that shouldhave led to complete annihilation; only the fumbling, uncooerdinatedleadership of the aliens had saved the humanoid fleets. And now theFederation was coming apart at the seams, with Barth Nevesh franticallyscurrying around to catch up the pieces.

  Duke read it through again, but with no added information. It was ashock to know that the aliens had combined against the humanoidFederation. Still, looking back on that, he could begin to see thatthey would have to, once they knew of the Federation. But the rest ofthe account--

  Flannery's words came back to him. The director had been right. Hisprediction was already coming true, after only three days--unless hehad either had prior knowledge or juggled things to make it come true!Duke considered it, but he could see no way Flannery could either learnor act in advance of the arrival of the ship on Earth. The Federationwas farther from Meloa than from this planet. He'd been forced todepend on the same accounts Duke had read in the papers on board theship.

  Then Duke glanced at the date on the current paper idly, and histhoughts jolted completely out of focus. It was dated only three dayslater than the paper he had seen when they were docked on Clovis!Without instantaneous communication, it was impossible. He might havebeen mistaken about the date before, but--

  Nothing fitted. The feeling of uncertainty came back, crowding out theminor matter of his memory of the date. He stared at the richness ofeven this poor section of an Earth that huddled here as if afraid ofits own shadows, yet reeked with self-satisfaction. He thought of Meloaa
nd Throm, and the gallant try at Federation that had been made on theOuter Worlds. Strength had to lie in union and action; yet all theevidence seemed to say that it lay in timidity and sloth.

  Reluctantly he turned the page away from the news, to seek for the jobsections. From the alley, there came the sound of a police whistle, andshouts that faded into the distance. It was probably the breaking up ofthe teen-age argument. A few people ran by, heading for the excitement,but Duke had lost all interest. A taxi stopped nearby and he heard apatter that might have been that of children's feet, but he didn't lookup.

  * * * * *

  Then a sharper whistle shrilled almost in his ear and he twisted aroundto stare at a creature who was gazing at him. Four spindly legs led upto a globular body encased in a harness-like contraption. Above thebody, two pairs of thin arms were waving about, while a long neck endedin a bird-like head, topped by two large ears.

  The ears suddenly seemed to shimmer in the air, and a surprisinglyhuman voice sounded. "You're Captain Duke O'Neill!"

  Before Duke could answer, a small hand came out quickly to find his andbegin shaking it, while the ears twittered on in excitement. "I'mhonored to meet you, Captain O'Neill. I've been studying your workagainst Throm. Amazingly clever strategy! Permit me--I'm Queeth, latelya prince of Sugfarth. Perhaps you noticed our ship? No, of course not.You must have landed at the government field. My crew and I are on theway to the war about to begin between Kloomiria and Cathay."

  "Why tell me about it?" Duke asked roughly. Sugfarth--the ship he'dseen diagrammed had come from there. If one of those titans was to beused against Cathay, Earth's colony was doomed. And the impertinentlittle monster--!

  The creature tried to imitate a shrug with his upper set of arms. "Whynot, captain? We're registered here as a recruiting ship for Cathay, soit's no secret. We thought we might as well carry along some of the mengoing out to help, since we had to pass near Earth anyhow. And Idropped by here in the hope that there might be a few who had failed tojoin the Federation and who would like to switch to Cathay."

  "Wait a minute," Duke said. He studied the alien, trying to rake whathe'd learned from the article out of his memory. But no record ofsubtlety or deceit had been listed there. The Sugfarth were supposed tobe honest--in fact, they'd been one of the rare races to declare theirwar in advance. Somehow, too, the words had a ring of truth in them."_For_ Cathay?"

  "Certainly, captain. For whom else? The civilized Earth races naturallyhave to stick together against the barbarians."

  Duke stared at the almost comic figure, juggling the words he had heardwith the obvious facts. "What Earth races? Do you mean that Earth isnow giving citizenship to your people?"

  "Not on this planet, of course." A pair of beady black eyes staredback, as if trying to understand a ridiculous question. "But we'recitizens of Earth's economic-cultural-diplomatic system, naturally."

  Duke felt something nibble at his mind, but he couldn't grasp it. Andhe wasn't accustomed to carrying on long chitchat with aliens. Heshoved the thoughts away and reached for the paper again. "You won'tfind recruits here, Queeth. Only me. And I'm too old for the recruitinglaw. Besides, I've got to find a job."

  He turned the pages, locating the column he wanted. What had Flannerymeant about Republican Rome? Duke could remember dimly something aboutRome's granting citizenship to her conquered neighbors. It had been thebasis of the city's growth and later power. Now if Earth could inspirecitizenship from conquered aliens--

  Queeth made a sound like a sigh and shuffled his four feet on thesidewalk uncertainly. "If you came aboard on a visit, who could stopour taking off at once?" he suggested. "We have room for anotherofficer, and we need men like you, Captain O'Neill, to help us againstthe aliens out there!"

  Duke looked down at the small face, and even the alien featurescouldn't disguise the obvious sincerity behind the words. It shouldhave made his decision automatic. He'd come here to be recruited, andhe was being accepted. There was a ship waiting for him, where hisskills could be used. With such a ship, things would be different fromthe war he had known. He had a picture of Kloomiria under attack fromit.

  Abruptly, he was seeing again the exploding ships of Throm, and thecharnel smell of Kordule on victorious Meloa was thick in his nose.

  He stood up, shaking his head, and held out his hand, groping for thephrases that had been all-important once among the recruits he hadjoined. "Thanks, Queeth," he said finally. "But I've got something tocatch up on here. Good luck--on to victory--and give the aliens hell!"

  He stood watching Queeth patter off toward the waiting cab and saw itdrive away. Then he turned to the want ads in earnest.

  Nothing was clear in his mind yet, but he'd need a job first, then aroom near the library. He had a lot of current history to catch up on.Whatever Earth was up to had to be recorded somewhere, if he could findit.