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diff --git a/24949-h/24949-h.htm b/24949-h/24949-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..209c1b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/24949-h/24949-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1609 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Control Group, by Roger Dee + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + h2 {text-align: right; clear: both; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-right: 2em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; clear: both; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto; width: 600px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 1em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + img {border: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .tease {margin: 0 auto 2em; width: 17em; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-size: large; text-align: justify;} + .theend {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 2em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Control Group, by Roger Dee + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Control Group + +Author: Roger Dee + +Release Date: March 29, 2008 [EBook #24949] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTROL GROUP *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="tease">"Any problem posed by one group of +human beings can be resolved by any +other group." That's what the Handbook +said. But did that include primitive +humans? Or the Bees? Or a ...</p> + +<h1><big>CONTROL GROUP</big></h1> + +<h2>By ROGER DEE</h2> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> cool green disk of Alphard +Six on the screen was +infinitely welcome after the arid +desolation and stinking swamplands +of the inner planets, an +airy jewel of a world that might +have been designed specifically +for the hard-earned month of +rest ahead. Navigator Farrell, +youngest and certainly most impulsive +of the three-man Terran +Reclamations crew, would have +set the <i>Marco Four</i> down at +once but for the greater caution +of Stryker, nominally captain of +the group, and of Gibson, engineer, +and linguist. Xavier, the +ship's little mechanical, had—as +was usual and proper—no voice +in the matter.</p> + +<p>"Reconnaissance spiral first, +Arthur," Stryker said firmly. He +chuckled at Farrell's instant +scowl, his little eyes twinkling +and his naked paunch quaking +over the belt of his shipboard +shorts. "Chapter One, Subsection +Five, Paragraph Twenty-seven: +<i>No planetfall on an unreclaimed +world shall be deemed +safe without proper—</i>"</p> + +<p>Farrell, as Stryker had expected, +interrupted with characteristic +impatience. "Do you <i>sleep</i> +with that damned Reclamations +Handbook, Lee? Alphard Six +isn't an unreclaimed world—it +was never colonized before the +Hymenop invasion back in 3025, +so why should it be inhabited +now?"</p> + +<p>Gibson, who for four hours +had not looked up from his interminable +chess game with +Xavier, paused with a beleaguered +knight in one blunt brown +hand.</p> + +<p>"No point in taking chances," +Gibson said in his neutral baritone. +He shrugged thick bare +shoulders, his humorless black-browed +face unmoved, when +Farrell included him in his +scowl. "We're two hundred twenty-six +light-years from Sol, at +the old limits of Terran expansion, +and there's no knowing +what we may turn up here. Alphard's +was one of the first systems +the Bees took over. It must +have been one of the last to be +abandoned when they pulled back +to 70 Ophiuchi."</p> + +<p>"And I think <i>you</i> live for the +day," Farrell said acidly, "when +we'll stumble across a functioning +dome of live, buzzing Hymenops. +Damn it, Gib, the Bees +pulled out a hundred years ago, +before you and I were born—neither +of us ever saw a Hymenop, +and never will!"</p> + +<p>"But I saw them," Stryker +said. "I fought them for the better +part of the century they were +here, and I learned there's no +predicting nor understanding +them. We never knew why they +came nor why they gave up and +left. How can we know whether +they'd leave a rear-guard or +booby trap here?"</p> + +<p>He put a paternal hand on +Farrell's shoulder, understanding +the younger man's eagerness +and knowing that their close-knit +team would have been the +more poorly balanced without it.</p> + +<p>"Gib's right," he said. He +nearly added <i>as usual</i>. "We're on +rest leave at the moment, yes, +but our mission is still to find +Terran colonies enslaved and +abandoned by the Bees, not to +risk our necks and a valuable +Reorientations ship by landing +blind on an unobserved planet. +We're too close already. Cut in +your shields and find a reconnaissance +spiral, will you?"</p> + +<p>Grumbling, Farrell punched +coordinates on the Ringwave +board that lifted the <i>Marco Four</i> +out of her descent and restored +the bluish enveloping haze of +her repellors.</p> + +<p>Stryker's caution was justified +on the instant. The speeding +streamlined shape that had flashed +up unobserved from below +swerved sharply and exploded in +a cataclysmic blaze of atomic +fire that rocked the ship wildly +and flung the three men to the +floor in a jangling roar of +alarms.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"So the Handbook tacticians +knew what they were about," +Stryker said minutes later. Deliberately +he adopted the smug +tone best calculated to sting Farrell +out of his first self-reproach, +and grinned when the navigator +bristled defensively. "Some of +their enjoinders seem a little +stuffy and obvious at times, but +they're eminently sensible."</p> + +<p>When Farrell refused to be +baited Stryker turned to Gibson, +who was busily assessing the +damage done to the ship's more +fragile equipment, and to Xavier, +who searched the planet's +surface with the ship's magnoscanner. +The <i>Marco Four</i>, Ringwave +generators humming gently, +hung at the moment just +inside the orbit of Alphard Six's +single dun-colored moon.</p> + +<p>Gibson put down a test meter +with an air of finality.</p> + +<p>"Nothing damaged but the +Zero Interval Transfer computer. +I can realign that in a couple +of hours, but it'll have to be +done before we hit Transfer +again."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Stryker looked dubious. +"What if the issue is forced before +the ZIT unit is repaired? +Suppose they come up after us?"</p> + +<p>"I doubt that they can. Any +installation crudely enough +equipped to trust in guided missiles +is hardly likely to have developed +efficient space craft."</p> + +<p>Stryker was not reassured.</p> + +<p>"That torpedo of theirs was +deadly enough," he said. "And +its nature reflects the nature of +the people who made it. Any race +vicious enough to use atomic +charges is too dangerous to +trifle with." Worry made comical +creases in his fat, good-humored +face. "We'll have to find +out who they are and why +they're here, you know."</p> + +<p>"They can't be Hymenops," +Gibson said promptly. "First, +because the Bees pinned their +faith on Ringwave energy fields, +as we did, rather than on missiles. +Second, because there's no +dome on Six."</p> + +<p>"There were three empty +domes on Five, which is a desert +planet," Farrell pointed out. +"Why didn't they settle Six? It's +a more habitable world."</p> + +<p>Gibson shrugged. "I know the +Bees always erected domes on +every planet they colonized, Arthur, +but precedent is a fallible +tool. And it's even more firmly +established that there's no possibility +of our rationalizing the +motivations of a culture as alien +as the Hymenops'—we've been +over that argument a hundred +times on other reclaimed +worlds."</p> + +<p>"But this was never an unreclaimed +world," Farrell said +with the faint malice of one too +recently caught in the wrong. +"Alphard Six was surveyed and +seeded with Terran bacteria +around the year 3000, but the +Bees invaded before we could +colonize. And that means we'll +have to rule out any resurgent +colonial group down there, because +Six never had a colony in +the beginning."</p> + +<p>"The Bees have been gone for +over a hundred years," Stryker +said. "Colonists might have migrated +from another Terran-occupied +planet."</p> + +<p>Gibson disagreed.</p> + +<p>"We've touched at every inhabited +world in this sector, Lee, +and not one surviving colony has +developed space travel on its +own. The Hymenops had a hundred +years to condition their human +slaves to ignorance of +everything beyond their immediate +environment—the motives +behind that conditioning usually +escape us, but that's beside the +point—and they did a thorough +job of it. The colonists have had +no more than a century of freedom +since the Bees pulled out, +and four generations simply +isn't enough time for any subjugated +culture to climb from +slavery to interstellar flight."</p> + +<p>Stryker made a padding turn +about the control room, tugging +unhappily at the scanty fringe +of hair the years had left him.</p> + +<p>"If they're neither Hymenops +nor resurgent colonists," he said, +"then there's only one choice remaining—they're +aliens from a +system we haven't reached yet, +beyond the old sphere of Terran +exploration. We always assumed +that we'd find other races out +here someday, and that they'd +be as different from us in form +and motivation as the Hymenops. +Why not now?"</p> + +<p>Gibson said seriously, "Not +probable, Lee. The same objection +that rules out the Bees applies +to any trans-Alphardian +culture—they'd have to be beyond +the atomic fission stage, +else they'd never have attempted +interstellar flight. The Ringwave +with its Zero Interval Transfer +principle and instantaneous communications +applications is the +only answer to long-range travel, +and if they'd had that they +wouldn't have bothered with +atomics."</p> + +<p>Stryker turned on him almost +angrily. "If they're not Hymenops +or humans or aliens, then +what in God's name <i>are</i> they?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Aye, there's the rub," Farrell +said, quoting a passage +whose aptness had somehow seen +it through a dozen reorganizations +of insular tongue and a +final translation to universal +Terran. "If they're none of those +three, we've only one conclusion +left. There's no one down there +at all—we're victims of the first +joint hallucination in psychiatric +history."</p> + +<p>Stryker threw up his hands in +surrender. "We can't identify +them by theorizing, and that +brings us down to the business +of first-hand investigation. +Who's going to bell the cat this +time?"</p> + +<p>"I'd like to go," Gibson said +at once. "The ZIT computer can +wait."</p> + +<p>Stryker vetoed his offer as +promptly. "No, the ZIT comes +first. We may have to run for it, +and we can't set up a Transfer +jump without the computer. It's +got to be me or Arthur."</p> + +<p>Farrell felt the familiar chill +of uneasiness that inevitably +preceded this moment of decision. +He was not lacking in courage, +else the circumstances under +which he had worked for the +past ten years—the sometimes +perilous, sometimes downright +charnel conditions left by the +fleeing Hymenop conquerors—would +have broken him long +ago. But that same hard experience +had honed rather than +blunted the edge of his imagination, +and the prospect of a close-quarters +stalking of an unknown +and patently hostile force was +anything but attractive.</p> + +<p>"You two did the field work +on the last location," he said. +"It's high time I took my turn—and +God knows I'd go mad if +I had to stay inship and listen +to Lee memorizing his Handbook +subsections or to Gib practicing +dead languages with Xavier."</p> + +<p>Stryker laughed for the first +time since the explosion that +had so nearly wrecked the <i>Marco +Four</i>.</p> + +<p>"Good enough. Though it +wouldn't be more diverting to +listen for hours to you improvising +enharmonic variations on +the <i>Lament for Old Terra</i> with +your accordion."</p> + +<p>Gibson, characteristically, had +a refinement to offer.</p> + +<p>"They'll be alerted down there +for a reconnaissance sally," he +said. "Why not let Xavier take +the scouter down for overt diversion, +and drop Arthur off in +the helihopper for a low-level +check?"</p> + +<p>Stryker looked at Farrell. "All +right, Arthur?"</p> + +<p>"Good enough," Farrell said. +And to Xavier, who had not +moved from his post at the magnoscanner: +"How does it look, +Xav? Have you pinned down +their base yet?"</p> + +<p>The mechanical answered him +in a voice as smooth and clear—and +as inflectionless—as a 'cello +note. "The planet seems uninhabited +except for a large island +some three hundred miles in +diameter. There are twenty-seven +small agrarian hamlets surrounded +by cultivated fields. +There is one city of perhaps a +thousand buildings with a central +square. In the square rests +a grounded spaceship of approximately +ten times the bulk +of the <i>Marco Four</i>."</p> + +<p>They crowded about the vision +screen, jostling Xavier's jointed +gray shape in their interest. The +central city lay in minutest detail +before them, the battered +hulk of the grounded ship glinting +rustily in the late afternoon +sunlight. Streets radiated away +from the square in orderly succession, +the whole so clearly +depicted that they could see the +throngs of people surging up +and down, tiny foreshortened +faces turned toward the sky.</p> + +<p>"At least they're human," +Farrell said. Relief replaced in +some measure his earlier uneasiness. +"Which means that they're +Terran, and can be dealt with +according to Reclamations routine. +Is that hulk spaceworthy, +Xav?"</p> + +<p>Xavier's mellow drone assumed +the convention vibrato that +indicated stark puzzlement. "Its +breached hull makes the ship incapable +of flight. Apparently it +is used only to supply power to +the outlying hamlets."</p> + +<p>The mechanical put a flexible +gray finger upon an indicator +graph derived from a composite +section of detector meters. "The +power transmitted seems to be +gross electric current conveyed +by metallic cables. It is generated +through a crudely governed +process of continuous atomic +fission."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Farrell, himself appalled by +the information, still found himself +able to chuckle at Stryker's +bellow of consternation.</p> + +<p>"<i>Continuous fission?</i> Good +God, only madmen would deliberately +run a risk like that!"</p> + +<p>Farrell prodded him with +cheerful malice. "Why say mad +<i>men</i>? Maybe they're humanoid +aliens who thrive on hard radiation +and look on the danger of +being blown to hell in the middle +of the night as a satisfactory +risk."</p> + +<p>"They're not alien," Gibson +said positively. "Their architecture +is Terran, and so is their +ship. The ship is incredibly +primitive, though; those batteries +of tubes at either end—"</p> + +<p>"Are thrust reaction jets," +Stryker finished in an awed +voice. "Primitive isn't the word, +Gib—the thing is prehistoric! +Rocket propulsion hasn't been +used in spacecraft since—how +long, Xav?"</p> + +<p>Xavier supplied the information +with mechanical infallibility. +"Since the year 2100 when +the Ringwave propulsion-communication +principle was discovered. +That principle has served +men since."</p> + +<p>Farrell stared in blank disbelief +at the anomalous craft on +the screen. Primitive, as Stryker +had said, was not the word +for it: clumsily ovoid, studded +with torpedo domes and turrets +and bristling at either end with +propulsion tubes, it lay at the +center of its square like a rusted +relic of a past largely destroyed +and all but forgotten. What a +magnificent disregard its builders +must have had, he thought, +for their lives and the genetic +purity of their posterity! The +sullen atomic fires banked in +that oxidizing hulk—</p> + +<p>Stryker said plaintively, "If +you're right, Gib, then we're +more in the dark than ever. How +could a Terran-built ship eleven +hundred years old get <i>here</i>?"</p> + +<p>Gibson, absorbed in his chess-player's +contemplation of alternatives, +seemed hardly to hear +him.</p> + +<p>"Logic or not-logic," Gibson +said. "If it's a Terran artifact, +we can discover the reason for +its presence. If not—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Any problem posed by one +group of human beings</i>," Stryker +quoted his Handbook, "<i>can be +resolved by any other group, regardless +of ideology or conditioning, +because the basic +perceptive abilities of both must +be the same through identical +heredity</i>."</p> + +<p>"If it's an imitation, and this +is another Hymenop experiment +in condition ecology, then we're +stumped to begin with," Gibson +finished. "Because we're not +equipped to evaluate the psychology +of alien motivation. We've +got to determine first which case +applies here."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He waited for Farrell's expected +irony, and when the +navigator forestalled him by remaining +grimly quiet, continued.</p> + +<p>"The obvious premise is that +a Terran ship must have been +built by Terrans. Question: Was +it flown here, or built here?"</p> + +<p>"It couldn't have been built +here," Stryker said. "Alphard +Six was surveyed just before the +Bees took over in 3025, and there +was nothing of the sort here +then. It couldn't have been built +during the two and a quarter +centuries since; it's obviously +much older than that. It was +flown here."</p> + +<p>"We progress," Farrell said +dryly. "Now if you'll tell us <i>how</i>, +we're ready to move."</p> + +<p>"I think the ship was built on +Terra during the Twenty-second +Century," Gibson said calmly. +"The atomic wars during that +period destroyed practically all +historical records along with the +technology of the time, but I've +read well-authenticated reports +of atomic-driven ships leaving +Terra before then for the nearer +stars. The human race climbed +out of its pit again during the +Twenty-third Century and developed +the technology that gave +us the Ringwave. Certainly no +atomic-powered ships were built +after the wars—our records are +complete from that time."</p> + +<p>Farrell shook his head at the +inference. "I've read any number +of fanciful romances on the +theme, Gib, but it won't stand +up in practice. No shipboard society +could last through a thousand-year +space voyage. It's a +physical and psychological impossibility. +There's got to be +some other explanation."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Gibson shrugged. "We can +only eliminate the least likely +alternatives and accept the simplest +one remaining."</p> + +<p>"Then we can eliminate this +one now," Farrell said flatly. "It +entails a thousand-year voyage, +which is an impossibility for any +gross reaction drive; the application +of suspended animation +or longevity or a successive-generation +program, and a final +penetration of Hymenop-occupied +space to set up a colony under +the very antennae of the +Bees. Longevity wasn't developed +until around the year 3000—Lee +here was one of the first to +profit by it, if you remember—and +suspended animation is still +to come. So there's one theory +you can forget."</p> + +<p>"Arthur's right," Stryker said +reluctantly. "An atomic-powered +ship <i>couldn't</i> have made such a +trip, Gib. And such a lineal-descendant +project couldn't have +lasted through forty generations, +speculative fiction to the +contrary—the later generations +would have been too far removed +in ideology and intent from +their ancestors. They'd have +adapted to shipboard life as the +norm. They'd have atrophied +physically, perhaps even have +mutated—"</p> + +<p>"And they'd never have +fought past the Bees during the +Hymenop invasion and occupation," +Farrell finished triumphantly. +"The Bees had better +detection equipment than we +had. They'd have picked this +ship up long before it reached +Alphard Six."</p> + +<p>"But the ship wasn't here in +3000," Gibson said, "and it is +now. Therefore it must have arrived +at some time during the +two hundred years of Hymenop +occupation and evacuation."</p> + +<p>Farrell, tangled in contradictions, +swore bitterly. "But +why should the Bees let them +through? The three domes on +Five are over two hundred years +old, which means that the Bees +were here before the ship came. +Why didn't they blast it or enslave +its crew?"</p> + +<p>"We haven't touched on all the +possibilities," Gibson reminded +him. "We haven't even established +yet that these people were +never under Hymenop control. +Precedent won't hold always, and +there's no predicting nor evaluating +the motives of an alien +race. We never understood the +Hymenops because there's no +common ground of logic between +us. Why try to interpret their +intentions now?"</p> + +<p>Farrell threw up his hands in +disgust. "Next you'll say this is +an ancient Terran expedition +that actually succeeded! There's +only one way to answer the +questions we've raised, and +that's to go down and see for +ourselves. Ready, Xav?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But uncertainty nagged uneasily +at him when Farrell found +himself alone in the helihopper +with the forest flowing beneath +like a leafy river and Xavier's +scouter disappearing bulletlike +into the dusk ahead.</p> + +<p>We never found a colony so +advanced, Farrell thought. Suppose +this is a Hymenop experiment +that really paid off? The +Bees did some weird and wonderful +things with human +guinea pigs—what if they've +created the ultimate booby trap +here, and primed it with conditioned +myrmidons in our own +form?</p> + +<p>Suppose, he thought—and derided +himself for thinking it—one +of those suicidal old interstellar +ventures <i>did</i> succeed?</p> + +<p>Xavier's voice, a mellow +drone from the helihopper's +Ringwave-powered visicom, cut +sharply into his musing. "The +ship has discovered the scouter +and is training an electronic +beam upon it. My instruments +record an electromagnetic vibration +pattern of low power but +rapidly varying frequency. The +operation seems pointless."</p> + +<p>Stryker's voice followed, querulous +with worry: "I'd better +pull Xav back. It may be something +lethal."</p> + +<p>"Don't," Gibson's baritone advised. +Surprisingly, there was +excitement in the engineer's +voice. "I think they're trying to +communicate with us."</p> + +<p>Farrell was on the point of +demanding acidly to know how +one went about communicating +by means of a fluctuating electric +field when the unexpected +cessation of forest diverted his +attention. The helihopper scudded +over a cultivated area +of considerable extent, fields +stretching below in a vague random +checkerboard of lighter and +darker earth, an undefined cluster +of buildings at their center. +There was a central bonfire that +burned like a wild red eye +against the lower gloom, and in +its plunging ruddy glow he made +out an urgent scurrying of shadowy +figures.</p> + +<p>"I'm passing over a hamlet," +Farrell reported. "The one nearest +the city, I think. There's +something odd going on +down—"</p> + +<p>Catastrophe struck so suddenly +that he was caught completely +unprepared. The helihopper's +flimsy carriage bucked and +crumpled. There was a blinding +flare of electric discharge, a +pungent stink of ozone and a +stunning shock that flung him +headlong into darkness.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He awoke slowly with a brutal +headache and a conviction of +nightmare heightened by the +outlandish tone of his surroundings. +He lay on a narrow bed in +a whitely antiseptic infirmary, +an oblong metal cell cluttered +with a grimly utilitarian array +of tables and lockers and chests. +The lighting was harsh and +overbright and the air hung +thick with pungent unfamiliar +chemical odors. From somewhere, +far off yet at the same +time as near as the bulkhead +above him, came the unceasing +drone of machinery.</p> + +<p>Farrell sat up, groaning, +when full consciousness made his +position clear. He had been shot +down by God knew what sort of +devastating unorthodox weapon +and was a prisoner in the +grounded ship.</p> + +<p>At his rising, a white-smocked +fat man with anachronistic spectacles +and close-cropped gray +hair came into the room, moving +with the professional assurance +of a medic. The man stopped +short at Farrell's stare and +spoke; his words were utterly +unintelligible, but his gesture +was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>Farrell followed him dumbly +out of the infirmary and down +a bare corridor whose metal +floor rang coldly underfoot. An +open port near the corridor's end +relieved the blankness of wall +and let in a flood of reddish Alphardian +sunlight; Farrell slowed +to look out, wondering how +long he had lain unconscious, +and felt panic knife at him +when he saw Xavier's scouter lying, +port open and undefended, +on the square outside.</p> + +<p>The mechanical had been as +easily taken as himself, then. +Stryker and Gibson, for all their +professional caution, would fare +no better—they could not have +overlooked the capture of Farrell +and Xavier, and when they +tried as a matter of course to +rescue them the <i>Marco</i> would be +struck down in turn by the same +weapon.</p> + +<p>The fat medic turned and +said something urgent in his +unintelligible tongue. Farrell, +dazed by the enormity of what +had happened, followed without +protest into an intersecting way +that led through a bewildering +succession of storage rooms and +hydroponics gardens, through a +small gymnasium fitted with +physical training equipment in +graduated sizes and finally into +a soundproofed place that could +have been nothing but a nursery.</p> + +<p>The implication behind its +presence stopped Farrell short.</p> + +<p>"A <i>creche</i>," he said, stunned. +He had a wild vision of endless +generations of children growing +up in this dim and stuffy room, +to be taught from their first +toddling steps the functions they +must fulfill before the venture +of which they were a part could +be consummated.</p> + +<p>One of those old ventures <i>had</i> +succeeded, he thought, and was +awed by the daring of that thousand-year +odyssey. The realization +left him more alarmed than +before—for what technical marvels +might not an isolated group +of such dogged specialists have +developed during a millennium +of application?</p> + +<p>Such a weapon as had brought +down the helihopper and scouter +was patently beyond reach of his +own latter-day technology. Perhaps, +he thought, its possession +explained the presence of these +people here in the first stronghold +of the Hymenops; perhaps +they had even fought and defeated +the Bees on their own invaded +ground.</p> + +<p>He followed his white-smocked +guide through a power room +where great crude generators +whirred ponderously, pouring +out gross electric current into +arm-thick cables. They were +nearing the bow of the ship +when they passed by another +open port and Farrell, glancing +out over the lowered rampway, +saw that his fears for Stryker +and Gibson had been well +grounded.</p> + +<p>The <i>Marco Four</i>, ports open, +lay grounded outside.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Farrell could not have said, +later, whether his next move +was planned or reflexive. The +whole desperate issue seemed to +hang suspended for a breathless +moment upon a hair-fine edge of +decision, and in that instant he +made his bid.</p> + +<p>Without pausing in his stride +he sprang out and through the +port and down the steep plane +of the ramp. The rough stone +pavement of the square drummed +underfoot; sore muscles +tore at him, and weakness was +like a weight about his neck. He +expected momentarily to be +blasted out of existence.</p> + +<p>He reached the <i>Marco Four</i> +with the startled shouts of his +guide ringing unintelligibly in +his ears. The port yawned; he +plunged inside and stabbed at +controls without waiting to seat +himself. The ports swung shut. +The ship darted up under his +manipulation and arrowed into +space with an acceleration that +sprung his knees and made his +vision swim blackly.</p> + +<p>He was so weak with strain +and with the success of his coup +that he all but fainted when +Stryker, his scanty hair tousled +and his fat face comical with bewilderment, +stumbled out of his +sleeping cubicle and bellowed at +him.</p> + +<p>"What the hell are you doing, +Arthur? Take us down!"</p> + +<p>Farrell gaped at him, speechless.</p> + +<p>Stryker lumbered past him +and took the controls, spiraling +the <i>Marco Four</i> down. Men +swarmed outside the ports when +the Reclamations craft settled +gently to the square again. Gibson +and Xavier reached the ship +first; Gibson came inside quickly, +leaving the mechanical outside +making patient explanations +to an excited group of Alphardians.</p> + +<p>Gibson put a reassuring hand +on Farrell's arm. "It's all right, +Arthur. There's no trouble."</p> + +<p>Farrell said dumbly, "I don't +understand. They didn't shoot +you and Xav down too?"</p> + +<p>It was Gibson's turn to stare.</p> + +<p>"No one shot you down! These +people are primitive enough to +use metallic power lines to +carry electricity to their hamlets, +an anachronism you forgot +last night. You piloted the helihopper +into one of those lines, +and the crash put you out for +the rest of the night and most +of today. These Alphardians are +friendly, so desperately happy to +be found again that it's really +pathetic."</p> + +<p>"<i>Friendly?</i> That torpedo—"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't a torpedo at all," +Stryker put in. Understanding +of the error under which Farrell +had labored erased his +earlier irritation, and he chuckled +commiseratingly. "They had +one small boat left for emergency +missions, and sent it up to +contact us in the fear that we +might overlook their settlement +and move on. The boat was +atomic powered, and our shield +screens set off its engines."</p> + +<p>Farrell dropped into a chair at +the chart table, limp with reaction. +He was suddenly exhausted, +and his head ached dully.</p> + +<p>"We cracked the communications +problem early last night," +Gibson said. "These people use +an ancient system of electromagnetic +wave propagation called +frequency modulation, and once +Lee and I rigged up a suitable +transceiver the rest was simple. +Both Xav and I recognized the +old language; the natives reported +your accident, and we came +down at once."</p> + +<p>"They really came from Terra? +They lived through a thousand +years of flight?"</p> + +<p>"The ship left Terra for +Sirius in 2171," Gibson said. +"But not with these people +aboard, or their ancestors. That +expedition perished after less +than a light-year when its +hydroponics system failed. The +Hymenops found the ship derelict +when they invaded us, and +brought it to Alphard Six in +what was probably their first experiment +with human subjects. +The ship's log shows clearly +what happened to the original +complement. The rest is deducible +from the situation here."</p> + +<p>Farrell put his hands to his +temples and groaned. "The crash +must have scrambled my wits. +Gib, where <i>did</i> they come from?"</p> + +<p>"From one of the first peripheral +colonies conquered by the +Bees," Gibson said patiently. +"The Hymenops were long-range +planners, remember, and masters +of hypnotic conditioning. They +stocked the ship with a captive +crew of Terrans conditioned to +believe themselves descendants +of the original crew, and +grounded it here in disabled +condition. They left for Alphard +Five then, to watch developments.</p> + +<p>"Succeeding generations of +colonists grew up accepting the +fact that their ship had missed +Sirius and made planetfall here—they +still don't know where +they really are—by luck. They +never knew about the Hymenops, +and they've struggled along +with an inadequate technology in +the hope that a later expedition +would find them. They found the +truth hard to take, but they're +eager to enjoy the fruits of Terran +assimilation."</p> + +<p>Stryker, grinning, brought +Farrell a frosted drink that tinkled +invitingly. "An unusually +fortunate ending to a Hymenop +experiment," he said. "These +people progressed normally because +they've been let alone. Reorienting +them will be a simple +matter; they'll be properly spoiled +colonists within another generation."</p> + +<p>Farrell sipped his drink appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"But I don't see why the Bees +should go to such trouble to deceive +these people. Why did they +sit back and let them grow as +they pleased, Gib? It doesn't +make sense!"</p> + +<p>"But it does, for once," Gibson +said. "The Bees set up this +colony as a control unit to study +the species they were invading, +and they had to give their +specimens a normal—if obsolete—background +in order to determine +their capabilities. The fact +that their experiment didn't tell +them what they wanted to know +may have had a direct bearing +on their decision to pull out."</p> + +<p>Farrell shook his head. "It's +a reverse application, isn't it of +the old saw about Terrans being +incapable of understanding an +alien culture?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Gibson, surprised. +"It's obvious enough, +surely—hard as they tried, the +Bees never understood us +either."</p> + +<p class="theend">THE END</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="600" height="268" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Science Fiction Stories</i> January +1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Control Group, by Roger Dee + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTROL GROUP *** + +***** This file should be named 24949-h.htm or 24949-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/4/24949/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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