Lensman from rigel, p.10
Lensman From Rigel, page 10
"And he'll simply type me as being silly with worthless, stupid, human-style humor. --You're not supposed to agree with me on this point, Treg! --You know, fellows, the more I marvel at his bizarre personal philosophy, the more I love the fractionated lug."
P'Keen and Garner felt the aftermath of pleasure of the four-way link of the Second Stage Lensmen, but, not having participated, they couldn't appreciate the exclusive intimacy of the exchange.
"That's it, Trig. With Worsel covered and Nadreck heard from, my official requests have been made to eighty-odd planets from both galaxies. It's been done with a minimum of argument. But I'm not doing any handsprings or cartwheels of joy. Ultra Prime certainly won't be overjoyed to face the invasion of such an impossibly demanding group. If you hadn't settled for the Upper Council, instead of the full Council, I probably would've yelped with pain. But it'll still be hell for a couple of days."
"Yes, of course. I understand. They are like spoiled children who are all slightly mad. Why such eminent scientists should be like this I cannot understand, for they all come from different worlds and they all have different personalities. I can only suggest that they are introverts with such superior minds that they are absolutely overwhelmed by a sense of smug superiority. But, we must admit, together they are brilliant. They will find the answers for us."
"That's just it, Trig. What answers? To what problems? It seems to me that until the tube attacks are understood, we will have no scientific questions to ask."
Then, to the growing wonder and admiration of P'Keen and Garner, there ensued a rapid mental exchange of information and background between Kinnison and Tregonsee which was dazzling in its speed and coherency.
The flow of thoughts, lightning fast in questions and answers, became, to the two junior Lensmen, an entire review of the past and present situation of the Second Galaxy, once known simply as Lundmark's Nebula. They began with the first penetration of the Milky Way twin, the discovery of and friendship with Klovia, the first footholds of the Patrol in its battle within the strongholds of Boskonia. They touched upon the overthrow of the Thrale-Onlonian Empire by Kinnison and Nadreck with the freeing of millions of worlds from Boskonian control and the extent of destruction of the evil and barbaric conspiracy which remained. Kinnison's and Tregonsee's roles were defined and evaluated. Their separate though parallel goals were delineated: Kinnison worked openly for military stabilization and democratic peace, while Tregonsee, surrendering his independent role of Gray Lensman, "put away his Grays" to work covertly to root out the piratical remnants of the dying Boskonian cabal and to bring about its final destruction.
"Boskonia is not really dead," Tregonsee said again, as he had been saying for almost a year. "It is as the ancient Gyptian bird, a phoenix, for it is rising from its own ashes. It spawns a new trouble and evil, and we can fight this spawn only to control it, not to eliminate it. Within the limited goals of our secret services, we are more and more successful, for though their power does not diminish, yet their territory does. And it is our Special Missions Forces which have been our best weapon."
P'Keen, as one of the most gifted of the newest recruits to the S.M.E, had learned, in incredibly short order, all about the S.M.F., completely and thoroughly. The Special Missions Forces was the brainchild of Tregonsee. When Kinnison had taken over the Civilizing of the Second Galaxy, it was Tregonsee who became his right hand. The great esteem earned by the Rigellian Lensman in the Galactic Patrol as head of the M.I.S., the Military Intelligence Service, was understood by the entire Patrol. But of even greater accomplishment and value, although not nearly as well appreciated because it was not generally known, was his service as head of the Secret Intelligence Services, which he founded about the time he reached the rank of Second Stage Lensman. His advanced Arisian training had resulted in the improvement and superb performance of the S.I.S., which so greatly contributed to the final victories against the Boskonian forces near Tellus and then Klovia. However, his crowning achievement was his creation of S.M.E, which, ironically, was known by so very few. He developed his idea after the destruction of Jarnevon and presented it to Port Admiral Haynes, who, as the newly chosen President of the Galactic Council, had become the most powerful person in Civilization. Haynes had bought the plan and agreed to its utmost secrecy, subject only to the approval of the new Galactic Coordinator, Kimball Kinnison.
The Special Missions Forces, as finally approved by Kinnison under the code name of "Project Quicksilver," was the most secret of secret operations. The basic purpose of the recognized intelligence branches--M.I.S. and S.I.S.--was to collect and evaluate and dispense information, in the one case for the Patrol and its military operations, and in the other case for the Galactic Council and its general operations. For M.I.S. the principal enemy had been the galactic-wide conspiracy of Boskone and its allies, and now its concern was over the ruins of that confederacy and its offspring, the Spawn. For the S.I.S., there was intelligence concerning political and civil matters, as well as about the activities of the usual independent pirates, zwilniks, and common criminals. But for the S.M.E, there was no public or private recognition, nor could there be any, because of the nature of its clandestine work. The S.M.E was known only to the four Second Stage Lensmen and Haynes himself, beyond the intimate circle of the Secret Missions Forces itself. Even Kinnison, technically the direct supervisor of S.M.E, felt it incumbent upon himself to know as little about the operation as possible. Even mention of its name, a simple acknowledgment of its existence, was taboo, and Kinnison consciously expunged it from his mind. He knew it to be the ultra cloak-and-dagger division of Civilization's bureaucracy, the proverbial department of dirty tricks. It was a dangerous weapon for everyone, for if it misfired it could wreak havoc on Civilization as well as on Civilization's foes.
Kinnison, however, had no uneasiness about whether or not he was following his conscience or better judgment in the operation of the S.M.E Tregonsee was its absolute boss, and Tregonsee was completely trustworthy, possessing one of the mightiest minds of the known universe. If Kinnison had no qualms about it, Tregonsee, with his well-balanced, un-human scruples, certainly didn't.
The Special Missions Forces was a small outfit, comparatively, with enormous power, and its efficiency was astonishingly good. Next to Port Admiral, now President, Haynes, Tregonsee was perhaps the most powerful person as an instrument for progress toward the Arisian goal of peace, harmony and perfection, even considering Kimball Kinnison.
"I said at the beginning of your ultra-secret project, Trig," Kinnison said, squinting as though to recall and focus the actual memory, "that I wanted to know nothing about your operations. I will interest myself only in the results. And, through you, only the S.I.S. will get the credit. That still goes."
"However," Tregonsee reminded him, as if Kinnison needed any reminding, "I pledged to you and to Haynes that should I die or otherwise become incapacitated, the S.M.E would immediately cease to exist and all of its apparatus would automatically become part of M.I.S., to be further parceled out to S.I.S."
"Yes, I know, Trig."
"This meeting is for my guidance. The attempt on my life has demonstrated the strengths and weaknesses of our intelligence services, especially S.M.E Only you and I, and my three executive officers and two aides-de-camp, know that S.M.E ends at my death. My death would trigger full disclosure to the Patrol's leaders of the existence and ending of S.M.E Because S.M.E has been so successful, I propose a change to insure its continuation. I propose that all records of S.M.E, in the event of my death, be turned over to Nadreck, whose mastery of psychology, and indifference to humanoid emotions, and disinterest in power for power's sake, will make him a perfect custodian. Further, I propose that you and President Haynes then decide if S.M.E should continue under another leader. Thus, my death will bring no irreparable harm."
"You mentioned this once before, Trig, but not formally. I thought it was a good idea then, I think so now. I will so inform the admiral, that is, President Haynes, as soon as possible. I hope this doesn't mean you're anticipating your imminent death?"
"No, for I am, in fact, safer than ever. And don't be misled into thinking my possible excursion into the field on this Mando business is suicidal. I might suffer a temporary mental breakdown, but real dying, not fake dying, is not in my plans."
"What are our standing orders now?" P'Keen said to Tregonsee, referring to himself and Garner, but he was looking at Kinnison.
Kinnison chose to answer that question. "Follow this procedure just outlined. Notify Nadreck, then me, and I will notify Haynes. Put copies of your actions into the Patrol files. Only Nadreck will have access to the files. And only the president of the Galactic Council will now have the power to disband S.M.E"
"I'm satisfied," Tregonsee said, and his mental relief was felt by all. "Now to answer your original questions--the Council of Scientists must meet for five reasons. First, they must consider a defense against the Sunbeam. A faction of the Spawn has organized a strike force into the configuration of a Sunbeam weapon."
The hair on the back of Garner's neck visibly rose, and P'Keen's complexion became even paler. Kinnison, taken aback, dropped his square jaw a not-quite-imperceptible fraction of an inch. The Sunbeam! Used by the Patrol to win the Battle of Tellus, collecting and concentrating the entire energy output of a star and focusing it into a single ray of cataclysmic destructiveness!
"In fact," Tregonsee said, in his imperturbable way about catastrophic events, "a whole number of Sunbeam projects are reported by S.I.S. operators.
"Second," he continued laconically, "there is the evidence that small black holes have unexpectedly and inexplicably begun to fuse into larger, dangerous ones.
"Third, hyperspatial tube research by planetary consortiums unfriendly to us seems on the verge of controlling space-warping to produce a practical matter transmitter.
"Fourth, a plague of drones or probes of various sizes is sweeping through one end of our galaxy, collecting information for an unknown adversary considered to be hostile.
"Finally, the fifth reason, which has created this emergency, is that Boskonians and their Spawn seem to have embarked on sabotage or talent raids of our scientific establishment in the Second Galaxy. Thus, the two councils from the two galaxies are needed to meet, as represented by the Joint Senior Councils, to alert each and every scientist to the danger to themselves and to Civilization's security."
When Tregonsee stopped his thought projection, so heavy with vague and misty images of destruction and chaos, the other two younger Lensmen, stunned by the stupendous visions, were left numb. But quickly their ominous pessimism was dispelled from their shaken spirits and, composure regained, they each began to calculate what help and contributions they might make when the Joint Councils met.
At first P'Keen, wrapped in thoughts on the forthcoming conference, didn't notice the narrow-beamed Lens-to-Lens exchange between Kinnison and Tregonsee. He did so just at the moment that he received a narrow-Lensed thought himself, directly from Kinnison. "P'Keen, if you will excuse us, will you and Garner go to where the coffins have been re-arranged? One of my men outside will show you where. You'll get further instructions when you get there." There was something about the formality of Kinnison's touch that alerted P'Keen to expect the unexpected.
They both had been in the large reception room of the Dauntless, where the diplomatic balls were so frequently held, when Kinnison called to them. Garner, from habit, had taken his position on the high stool. P'Keen was at Meppy's coffin, kneeling, head bowed, but thinking about Kinnison, the Dauntless, and all the things that had been happening in--how long? One day? Two days? Three days? Or really just one, long, long day?
"P'Keen. Garner. Now hear this. There was a delicate matter I had to discuss with Trig. It seems that one of Mepauhurrat's--ah--relatives was flown in to the Dauntless on its last stop, as had been ordered. He has been waiting to see Trig, his fellow Rigellian. They have met. They have come to an understanding. Now, there will be some formalities there in front of the coffin. The entity, who is to be referred to as 'Two,' will be there shortly and you will handle it."
"Handle it?" P'Keen said, his placidity rather shaken by the idea and the appalling lack of preparation.
"I've no precedent to follow, sir," Garner added, even more apprehensively.
"QX, my fellows," came Tregonsee's thought. "Your good sense will see you through. Just be natural. I've complete confidence in you."
Both Kinnison and Tregonsee disconnected.
"Well," said Garner. "Here we go, ready or not."
Only moments later, a Rigellian shuffled into the room, dressed in Patrol harness, and moved heavily but nonetheless gracefully to a position in front of Garner on the stool. The two humanoid Lensmen held their military bearings, unmoving, wondering--this couldn't be the entity called "Two"?
"I am Cyclo," the big Rigellian telepathed, "Communications Officer on the Dauntless," and brought up one of his right tentacles in semblance of a salute. "I have the sorrow of presenting Two into the Presence. Do I have permission?"
"Certainly, sir," said Garner and returned the salute.
Cyclo didn't move, but they felt his mind reach out beyond the door.
Within seconds, a Rigellian, escorted by two pairs of honor guardsmen, shuffled into the room. He was wrapped in yards and yards of soft black fabric, trailing much of it on the floor. It wasn't Tregonsee, of course, but the sense of déjà vu was nevertheless startling.
The Rigellian immediately began his ritualistic greeting: "Oh, keepers of the watch. I humbly come before you to lay my just and righteous claim."
"Oh, Rigellian," replied Garner. "Although I am the senior, it is he from Ordo who will commune with you. It is he who will lock minds with you on this Sacred Occasion."
Thanks a lot, Garner! P'Keen thought to himself, but careful not to let the sarcastic rebuke slip out.
"Oh, Entity of Ordo-Ordov," the Rigellian "Two" said formally. "I have come to question the religious attention given to the departed one of my cluster. My sense of perception observes only military ceremony. Where is the religious observance?"
"For one so high in the councils of the Patrol," P'Keen answered, "the military formality prepares the way for holy services." P'Keen would have been much happier if Garner could have been linked with their communications--even happier if it could be Tregonsee. He could only guess that his performance would be satisfactory. "The Chaplain General of the Galactic Patrol is himself coming personally to take charge."
"Not that high, surely," thought the Rigellian, sincere in his wonderment.
"Tregonsee was the very highest," P'Keen said, without much exaggeration. Ouch! Now that was a mistake--even he, P'Keen, was living the deception now, mixing up Treg with Null-Treg.
"Yes, Tregonsee is a mighty one from Rigel," said the Rigellian. "But I refer to the departed Mepauhurrat." P'Keen felt relieved that his mistake was either overlooked or forgiven and said, "Mepauhurrat was truly another self of Tregonsee, and is being treated as such." In the light of the culture of the cluster, P'Keen thought, it sounded almost as though he knew what he was talking about. So, this was one of Meppy's manufactured relatives asking for--what?
The alien was waving his tentacles about sinuously, and bouncing his barrel body up and down rhythmically, making the gauzy fabric billow. P'Keen had never seen a Rigellian act like this before, so, ah, so emotionally.
"I am reassured," the Rigellian said. "Now may I see the body?"
"Certainly," P'Keen replied, thinking secretly to himself so rapidly and clearly that he felt great confidence in himself now. "But as you gaze upon him, you must think of him as Tregonsee himself. Mepauhurrat was Tregonsee to the Civilized worlds. They must believe that way in death."
"Of course," said the Mepauhurrat relative, "the secret of my unit's profession shall stay secret with me and with the Other One in death as in life. I shall honor him as he should be honored, as Tregonsee himself."
P'Keen was elated. Mepauhurrat was placated without
destruction of the plan. The deception would be foolproof now!
"Oh, Entity of Ordo-Ordov," said Two. "I will come again with my brister Three. May Mepauhurrat dust you with peace as the watch is kept."
He did say "brister," didn't he? P'Keen asked himself. It must have been. It did make a kind of sense.
Two had stepped behind Cyclo, and, a pair of troopers in front and a pair behind, both Rigellians shuffled back out of the room, Cyclo leading the way, two big bodies bobbing in single file.
"Very well done, P'Keen," came Tregonsee's thought. "You and Garner can rejoin us now. Kim does not profess to be an expert in this case, but he feels I was right to have him lower the screens for this."
Lower the screens! P'Keen was aghast. Many could have observed that encounter! Many probably did! He could have made a mess of it! If he had known that there had been no privacy, that he had been so vulnerable,--well--!
P'Keen's nerves were settled down by the time he flopped back in the soft chair near Tregonsee. He didn't pay much attention to the discussion, still re-living the Rigellian ceremony. Then his eyes were attracted by an unexpected movement.
The center of Kinnison's desk was slowly and silently raising itself, a central core two feet in diameter, crowded with switches and meters and dials and tiny viewing plates. An orange light was noiselessly but insistently blinking. As Tregonsee paused, Kinnison depressed a button and received an oral message. "Sir. The Chaplain General is here, awaiting your attention. He's arrived with the fleet task force. There is also an unexpected arrival who came in on a privateer, LaVerne Thorndyke. He says he could not give you advanced warning because of the risk to his security, but he must see you immediately."
Kinnison, who had been leaning across the desk, one elbow on the felt top with his finger on a button, jerked in surprise and virtually shouted, "Send him in! Send them both in! Toot sweet!" He then flung himself to his feet, as though catapulted by his trick desk, and took huge strides to the door to greet them.
