The Problem Makers Page 7
* * * * *
A junior member of the delegation came panting down the aisle, shakinghis head when he saw the others' eyes on him. ”Sorry, Citizens,” hesaid, as soon as he was within the Ehrlan area. ”He left the hotel overan hour ago. No one has seen a sign of him since.”
”Well, that tears it,” said Evrett, just as the presiding secretarystruck his gavel on the little wooden block, announcing the opening ofthe session. ”Who has the copy of the plans?”
”Here,” said Sterm, digging the papers from his case.
”I'll make the presentation myself....”
”Just a minute, Citizen!” said Arko. ”Look! Here he comes now!”
They all turned and looked at the pudgy figure ambling slowly down theaisle, nodding to greetings that came from all sides. The missing mansmiled and shook hands with a couple of the onlookers, before enteringthe area and taking his seat at the head of the delegation.
”Citizen Lund!” cried Sterm, as though speaking to a wayward child.”Where in the name of the Seven Suns have you been?”
”Why, it's a beautiful day, Citizens,” explained Lund. ”I thought I'dtake a stroll in the Park. There's quite a large Ehrlan section, youknow. Makes one quite homesick to hear the singing flowers serenadingthe passerby. I can't wait to get back home again.”
”If you hadn't shown up, none of us would have had the nerve to gohome!”
”Why, Citizen Sterm!” Lund seemed amused by some private joke.”Whatever made you think I wouldn't be here? This is an important dayfor Ehrla, remember?”
”How could we forget?” said Evrett.
The presiding secretary fiddled with his bank of microphones for amoment, in the manner of presiding secretaries throughout history sincethe invention of the public address system, then turned hopelessly tothe technicians. A man came forward, made a simple adjustment, thenretreated. The Secretary cleared his throat, sipped at a glass of waterand spoke.
”The fourth session of the Nineteenth Conference of the CentralWorlds is open for business. The afternoon session will be devoted tothe presentation and discussion of proposals by the membership. TheRecording Secretary will call the roll of delegations.”
A short stubby man with five o'clock shadow came forward and leanedinto the bank of microphones, and yelled: ”Accryllia!”
Across the chamber a man stood up, holding his delegation's microphone.”The grand and sovereign system of Accryllia, long known throughoutthe galaxy for the excellence of its citrus fruit, the beauty of itsmaidens, the virtue of its honorable young men ... the grand andsovereign state of Accryllia passes.”
”Antares!”
”Antares passes.”
”Bodancer!”
”The system of Bodancer passes.”
”Buddington!”
”Mr. Secretary, the proud system of Buddington yields to Ehrla!”
”Ehrla!”
* * * * *
Citizen Lund stood up, unclipped the mike from the railing, smiledaround at a few more wellwishers and launched into his speech. ”Mr.Secretary! Ehrla wishes to thank the proud and ancient system ofBuddington for relinquishing its rightful order in these proceedings,so that Ehrla may present a plan that the citizens of Ehrla feelcertain will meet with the full approval of this meeting.
”For hundreds of years, the various peoples represented here todayhave been rightly concerned with the problems of new star systems beingdeveloped, new races being assimilated into the federation of free andlawful worlds. These new worlds need guidance, a guidance that onlylong experience can provide.”
Evrett looked at Sterm, uneasily. ”What is this?” he whispered. ”Heisn't presenting the plan like this, I hope? He'll alienate half thedelegations.”
”I don't know what he's doing,” said Sterm. ”I only hope _he_ knows.”
”In the past,” continued Lund, ”the various and varied members ofthis honored organization have provided the same guidance in wiseand infinitely proper manner. It is the hope of Ehrla that they willcontinue to do so in the future. Therefore the ancient and honorablesystem of Ehrla proposes, to this effect, that the members of thisorganization continue as they have in the past.”
Pandemonium was breaking out in scattered sections of the chamber asvarious delegations realized that they were being snookered by theEhrlans. Voices rose up here and there, trying to drown out Lund'swords. Monitors moved up and down the aisles, trying to quell thedisturbances.
”Therefore,” said Lund, ”Ehrla, to the implementation of its plan,announces to this organization that this day they have annexed thesystems of Phelimina, Trepidar and Scolatia.”
He sat down and turned to the rest of his delegation. ”Gentlemen,”he said, smiling, as he handed a sealed envelope to Sterm, ”myresignation.”
* * * * *
Reilly slumped in his chair with a sigh. The lecture had gone well, butit had ended not a moment too soon to suit him.
”I'm growing old,” he said, unaware he was speaking out loud.
”Pardon, sir?” The regular service Sergeant-Major closed the door andbrought over his cup of coffee. ”Did you say something, sir?”
”What?” Reilly blinked. ”Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Sergeant. Just anold man muttering to himself.”
”Begging the general's pardon, sir, I don't think you're an old man atall. At least, no older than myself.” He cocked his head. ”Although,to be perfectly honest with both of us, sir, there are times when Ijust can't seem to keep up with these children they keep sending usnowadays.”
”We're both ready for retirement, Sergeant. Old work horses, ready tobe turned out to pasture. I guess this will be the last class I seethrough these old doors. I've submitted my resignation, you know.”Reilly moodily regarded his coffee.
”Yessir, I knew. The rest of the faculty knows too. And if I might beso bold as to say so, sir, we'll all be sorry to see you go. It won'tbe the same Academy without General Reilly glarin' a bit at us all.”
”Glaring a bit, is it, Sergeant?” He glared now, then broke down intoa smile. ”I suppose I do at that. Do the cadets still call me OldStoneface?”
”Not within my hearing, sir.” He grinned. ”But you know cadets. Youwere one yourself. I suppose it'd be as difficult to stop cadetsfrom tagging their teachers with nicknames as it'd be to ride a starbareback.”
Reilly sighed, and swiveled his chair until he could see through theone cluttered window. The parade ground stretched away beneath, thesystem pennant fluttered briskly in the stiff breeze. Into his viewmarched a battalion of Cadets. Much the same scene had repeated itselfdaily during the thirty years he had occupied the office. ”The faceschange.”
”Sir?”
”The faces change, Sergeant. How many thousands of boys have comethrough these doors? The uniform never changes, though. And I supposethat's really the most important thing, in its essence--the uniformand the tradition.”
”That it is, sir.”
Reilly chuckled. ”You know, Sergeant, I never considered myself aparticularly sentimental man. Still, the faster the years fly by, thedearer old memories become. The clearer, too. I can recall things thathappened when I was a boy much easier than I can remember what I hadfor breakfast this morning. And I know that's a sign of old age.”
He picked up his coffee and made a face when he found it cold.”Sergeant, as two old men sharing the past, how about having a cup ofsomething a bit stronger than this watery brew with me?”
”Sir! I really don't think....”
”Oh, bother regulations, Sergeant! I'm speaking as a man now, not as ageneral. I'd deem it an honor.”
”Then I'd be proud to, sir.”
* * * * *
He sat down in the visitor's chair while Reilly opened the bottomdrawer of his desk and drew out a bottle and two very dusty glasses. Heblew into them, set them on the edge of the desk and poured generousmeasures of the amber liquid. The sergeant accepted his with a bow ofhis
head. They raised their glasses.
”To yesterday, Sergeant.”
”To yesterday, sir. And may these days be as memorable to those whowill be remembering fifty years from now.”
”And those days fifty years further.” They touched glasses, then tossedoff the contents, wincing as the whiskey cut its way down. A soft ballof fire exploded in Reilly's midsection. He sighed, capped the bottleand stowed it and the glasses away.
A short rat-a-tat-tat sounded on the door; the Cadet Sergeant-Majoropened it and stuck his head through. ”Sir?”
”Yes, Sergeant?”
”Six gentlemen to see you, sir.”
”What?” He glanced at his memo pad. A notation warned him sixprospective cadets were due to come in. It was not standard procedurefor him to interview candidates, but all six were the sons of Academygraduates killed in the line of duty. ”Give me five minutes, Sergeant,then show them in.”
”Very good, sir.” He withdrew and closed the door.
”Well, Sergeant,” said Reilly, turning to the regular service man.”Perhaps these are the lads who will be doing that reminiscing fiftyyears from now.”
”Quite possible, sir.” He stood up and came to attention. ”Do I havethe general's permission, sir?”
”Dismissed, Sergeant.”
Sighing, Reilly swiveled his chair again and watched the drillers onthe parade ground until the short rat-a-tat-tat sounded again. Heturned around in time to face the gangling teenagers trooping throughthe door.
”Messrs. Whyte, Phillips, Garrett, Gordon, Kaslov and Poirot,