The Problem Makers Page 8
”Come in, gentlemen, come in.” Reilly stood up. ”Find yourselves aseat. Just pile those magazines on the chair, sir. I think three of youwill fit admirably on that couch. You others can draw up those chairsby the water cooler. Yes, that's it.” He shook hands all around, andthen sat down again.
”Now then, your names once more, please?” He fixed them firmly inhis mind as each boy introduced himself in turn. ”Ah, yes. And I, ofcourse, am General Reilly, Commandant of the Academy.”
”Sir?”
”Yes, Mr. Kaslov?”
”Would that be _the_ General Reilly? Of the Deneb Crisis?”
”I see my fame has preceded me, gentlemen. Yes, I am that Reilly.Please, don't let the fact scare you. I assure you, I don't bite offthe head of a boy until he is in uniform. Then, gentlemen, you arefair game from then on.
”Now, then,” he said. ”Are there any other questions before I give youmy sales pitch? Yes, Mr. Kaslov?”
”Sir,” the boy said, hesitantly, ”I believe you knew my grandfather.Sub-Colonel Kaslov? He served with you during the Deneb Crisis.”
”Of course!” said Reilly. ”Martin Kaslov; I should have recognized thename immediately. He was my Team leader. And his son was fresh out ofthe Academy; I remember very well. So you might become third generationAcademy material, eh? Good, good. We're always glad to have someonewhose roots are deep in Academy tradition. That's why I'm particularlyhappy to have all six of you gentlemen here this afternoon. Iunderstand you attended my lecture?”
* * * * *
All six nodded; one raised his hand.
”Yes, Mr. Whyte?”
”Sir, I heard your lecture, but, frankly, I didn't get very much outof it. I mean, you talked a great deal about the service and so forth,but it just didn't make much sense to me. It was just like Pop--my dadused to talk when I was a kid. I don't suppose it made much sense then,but kids don't understand anyway. But now I'm old enough to enter theAcademy myself. I think I should know more about it, what it means,what it stands for. Uh, do I make myself clear?”
”As lucid as a mountain spring on a bright morning, Mr. Whyte. I onlyregret my own words were not as concise.” He smiled. The other boyslaughed while Whyte flushed.
”But you have expressed a very important point,” continued Reilly.”I don't want a man coming in here who doesn't know what the Academystands for. We have a long tradition, but we mean more than just wordscarved over a marble arch. 'The Greater Good for the Greater Number.'There are hundreds of years and hundreds of thousands of lives livedand died behind those seven words. From Earth's first colony in theCentauri system to the latest native intelligence charted in the CrabNebula, those seven words have wrapped up an entire philosophy anddictated the means of living by it.
”But what do the words actually mean? I think, Mr. Whyte, that is thecrux of your question. Indeed, that is the crux of the structure onwhich the Academy is founded. Oh, it's easy to say that the words meanwhat they say, because they do. That and no more. But how to explainthem so that someone who doesn't _know_ will know? In a sense, I'vebeen trying to do that ever since my first girl friend threw me overas an incurable romantic when she learned that I intended to enter theAcademy. For many people, I'm afraid there is no explanation. They areincapable of understanding, no matter how hard we try. But I don'tthink you gentlemen are in that class. Otherwise you would not be hereat all.
”The obvious place to begin is the beginning. 'The greater good.'Not the greatest, mind you--the greater. There are those who quibbleover words; they are responsible for this particular delineation. Itwould be idealistic to try for the greatest in all things. Despite histhousands of years of development, man is still a long ways from beingan ideal creature. There are certain things that remain beyond hiscapabilities. In certain isolated incidents, the course we follow doesproduce the greatest good possible. But they are isolated.
”The same reasoning follows the choice of 'The Greater Number.' Onlyour limitations prevent us from seeing to it that every world in thegalaxy is the best of all possible worlds, insofar as the peculiaritiesof a particular world permit. We do our best, and take pride in thefact that that best is better than anyone else's.
”But so much for numerical values. You most want to hear what we _do_.And that can best be summed up in one word: everything. Everything,and yet that, too, has its limitations. Impossibilities are beyondeven us. Improbabilities are given a fair chance. We are constantlyseeking out courses of action that will benefit not the individualbut the race. And in some instances, not even a race, when there aremany races involved in a particular manner. The methods we follow, theactions we take in a particular instance, may sometimes seem cruel andunreasoning....”
V
The families were on the move, away from their comfortable homes underthe everlasting warmth of the sun. Luke Royceton shifted his weight inthe copter and trained the glasses on a column of dust rising threemiles to the west and ten thousand feet below.
”It's okay, Harry,” he said to the pilot. ”They've swung back northagain.”
”Right, Luke,” the pilot replied. ”Scout report just in says there's areal big outfit about eighty miles settling down around a lake. Shallwe hit them?”
”We the closest?”
”Singer's forty miles the other side of them, but he's tied up chasingsome mavericks.”
”Let's go then.”
Luke holstered his glasses and slid down into the cargo hold. The restof the team were taking advantage of the lull in activity to catchup on their relaxation. They had been constantly on the go since themigrations had begun in earnest two months earlier. Luke kibitzed acard game for a few minutes, then announced: ”Action coming up in abouttwenty minutes. Grab something to eat and run a check on your costumes.”
The copter dropped to treetop level five miles from the lake and cameto ground four miles further on. The team piled out, stretched thetensions of the long ride out of their bodies, then started out throughhead-high dwarf trees that separated their landing spot from the lake.They wound through the trees and over a low, rolling series of hills.The cover stopped suddenly, two hundred yards from the beach.
”Big family is right!” said Luke softly, gripping his axe.
There were nearly fifty huts in various stages of construction alongthe beach. Twice that number of adult males were working on them,while the women were bringing in armloads of grass for thatching. Thechildren were waist-deep in the lake with fishing spears. A stillwriggling pile on the beach testified to their prowess.
Luke glanced over the dozen members of his team, shaking his head. ”Idon't know,” he said. ”Those are pretty hefty odds.”
”What's to worry about, Luke?” asked one of the men. ”You don't expectthose characters to put up a fight, do you?”
”God only knows. They just might take it in their heads to do that.From looks of things, either this outfit has been traveling far orelse several villages have combined forces. If it's the last, then I'mplenty worried.”
”So what do we do? Go back and yell for reinforcements?”
”Not yet. Not until we try these babies ourselves. Everybody got hiscourage screwed up?” There were soft murmurs of assent from each man.”Make torches.” Two men faded away and returned a moment later witharms full of the same grass the villagers were using. Half the teamset to work, twisting them into torches and tying them with shortlengths of a twine-like vine they had brought along from the equatorialjungles. The torches were passed out, and Luke took a deep breath:”Let's go!”
* * * * *
The team leaped to their feet and broke from the cover, screaming theirbanshee cry. The natives dropped what they were doing and wheeledaround, then froze in their tracks at the sight of the wildly painteddevils tearing down the beach. The two hundred yards separating themhalved, then halved again before the natives broke out of their stupor.One of the work
ers placed his fingers between his teeth and whistled.The children ran in from the lake, tossing their spears to the nearestadult, man or woman.
By the time the team was among them, axes whistling through the air andsmashing the walls of the huts, the villagers were armed and fightingback.
”We've got troubles!” yelled Luke, bringing his axe down to breakseveral spears being jabbed at him. The spears were too short to makegood throwing weapons, so the natives were using them just as theywould in going after fish. One got through Luke's guard; he chokedback a cry of pain as the broad stone head went into his flesh and wastwisted. He pulled away, yanking the shaft out of the native's hand.
Two of the team had managed to get close enough to the cooking firesto light their torches. They used them now as shields, until the grassburned down to the handles. One then tossed his into the large pileof thatching material, while the other stuck his into the unplasteredwall of the nearest hut. The thatching blazed up quickly, forcing thenatives away from the heat. Most of the team now had their backs tothe nearest wall; none had escaped the jabbing spears. One man wascompletely encircled by the natives. Suddenly his axe was wrenched fromhis grasp. They picked him up, legs flailing wildly in the air, carriedhim over and threw him onto the fire.
”Let's get out of here!” screamed Luke, surprising