Chapter XII

It was fifty years to a day since the Pedagogue had first gone into orbit about Rigel. Five decades have passed. Half a century.

Of the original crew of the Pedagogue, six now gathered in the lounge of the spaceship. All of them had changed physically. Some of them softer to the point of flabbiness; some harder both of body and soul.

Barry Watson, Natt Roberts, Dick Hawkins, of the Texcocan team.

Martin Gunther, Peter MacDonald, Fredric Buchwald, of the Genoese.

The gathering wasn’t so large as the one before. Only Taller and the scientist Wiss attended from Texcoco; only Baron Leonar and the son of Honorable Russ from Genoa.

From the beginning they stared with hostility across the conference table. Even the pretense of amiability was gone.

Watson rapped finally, “I am not going to dwell upon the measures you have been taking that can only be construed as military ones aimed eventually at the Texcocan State.”

Martin Gunther laughed nastily. “Is your implication that your own people have not taken the same measures, in fact, inaugurated them?”

Watson said, “As I say, I have no intention of even discussing this.

Surely we can arrive at no agreement. There is one point, however that we should consider on this occasion.”

The corpulent Peter MacDonald wheezed, “Well, out with it!”

Natt Roberts said, “I mentioned the matter to you at the last meeting.”

“Ah, yes,” Gunther nodded. “Just as you left. We have considered it.”

The Texcocans waited for him to go on.

“If I understand you,” Gunther said, “you think we should reconsider returning to Terra City at this time.”

“It should be discussed,” Watson nodded. “Whatever the ... ah ... temporary difficulties between us, the original project of the Pedagogue is still our duty.”

The three of the Genoese team nodded their agreement.

“And the problem becomes, have we accomplished completely what we set out to do? And, further, is it necessary, or at least preferable, for us to stay on and continue administration of the progress of the Rigel planets?”

They thought about it.

Buchwald said hesitantly, “It has been my own belief that Genoa is not quite ready for us to let loose the ... ah, reins. If we left now, I am not sure--”

Roberts said, “Same applies to Texcoco. The State has made fabulous strides, but I am not sure what would happen if we leaders were to leave. There might be a complete collapse.”

Watson said, “We seem to be in basic agreement. Is a suggestion in order that we extend, for another twenty-five years, at least, this expedition’s work?”

Dick Hawkins said, “The Office of Galactic Colonization--”

MacDonald said smoothly, “Will undoubtedly send out a ship to investigate. We shall simply inform them that things are not as yet propitious to our leaving, that another twenty-five years is in order.

Since we are on the scene, undoubtedly our recommendation will be heeded.”

Watson looked from one Earthman to the next. “We are in agreement?”

Each in turn nodded.

Peter MacDonald said, “And do you all realize that here we have a unique situation that might be exploited for the benefit of the whole race?”

They looked to him, questioningly.

“The dynamic we find in Genoa--and Texcoco, too, for that matter, though we disagree on so many fundamentals--is beyond that in the Solar System.

These are new planets, new ambitions are alive. We have at our fingertips man’s highest developments, evolved on Earth. But with this new dynamic, this freshness, might we not in time push even beyond old Earth?”

“You mean--” Natt Roberts said.

MacDonald nodded. “What particular of value is gained by our uniting Genoa and Texcoco with the so-called Galactic Commonwealth? Why not press ahead on our own? With the vigor of these new races we might well leave Earth far behind.”

Watson mused, “Carrying your suggestion to the ultimate, who is to say that one day Rigel might not become the new center of the human race, rather than Sol?”

“A point well taken,” Gunther agreed.

“No,” Taller said softly.

The six Earthmen turned hostile eyes to him.

“This particular matter does not concern you, Generalissimo,” Watson rapped at him.

Taller smiled his amusement at that and came to his feet.

“No,” he said. “I am afraid that hard though it might be for you to give up the powers you have held so long, you Earthlings are going to have to return to Terra City, from whence you came.”

Baron Leonar said in gentle agreement, “Obviously.”

“What is this?” Watson rapped. “I’m not at all amused.”

The Honorable Russ stood also. “There is no use prolonging this. I have heard you Earthlings say, more than once, that man adapts to preserve himself. Very well, we of Genoa and Texcoco are adapting to the present situation. We are of the belief that if you are allowed to remain in power we of the Rigel planets will be destroyed, probably in an atomic holocaust. In self-protection we have found it necessary to unite, we Genoese and Texcocans. We bear you no ill will, far to the contrary.

However, it is necessary that you all return to Earth. You have impressed upon us the aforementioned truism that man adapts but in the Pedagogue’s library I have found another that also applies. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

There were heavy automatics in the hands of Natt Roberts and Dick Hawkins. Barry Watson leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrow. “How’d you ever expect to get away with this sort of treason, Taller?”