Watch the Sky by James H. Schmitz
quietagain.
The planet was not at fault. Essentially, it had what was needed tobecome a thriving colony in every sense. At fault was the Geest War. Thewar had periods of flare-up and periods in which it seemed to besubsiding. During the past decade it had been subsiding again. One ofthe early flare-ups, one of the worst, and the one which brought the warclosest to Earth itself, was the Gunderland Battle in which UncleWilliam Boles' trophy gun had been acquired. But the war never came nearRoye. The action was all in the opposite section of the giant sphere ofthe Space Territories, and over the years the war drew steadily fartheraway.
And Earth's vast wealth--its manpower, materials and money--was pouringinto space in the direction the Geest War was moving. Worlds not a tenthas naturally attractive as Roye, worlds where the basic conditions forhuman life were just above the unbearable point, were settled and held,equipped with everything needed and wanted to turn them into independentgiant fortresses, with a population not too dissatisfied with its lot.When Earth government didn't count the expense, life could be madeconsiderably better than bearable almost anywhere.
Those were the circumstances which condemned Roye to insignificance. Noteveryone minded. Phil Boles, native son, did mind. His inclinations werethose of an operator, and he was not being given an adequate opportunityto exercise them. Therefore, the circumstances would have to be changed,and the precise time to make the change was at hand. Phil himself wasnot aware of every factor involved, but he was aware of enough of them.Back on Earth, a certain political situation was edging towards aspecific point of instability. As a result, an Earth ship which was notone of the regular freighters had put down at Fort Roye some daysbefore. Among its passengers were Commissioner Sanford of theTerritorial Office, a well-known politician, and a Mr. Ronald Black, thepopular and enterprising owner of Earth's second largest news outletsystem. They were on a joint fact-finding tour of the thinly scatteredcolonies in this remote section of the Territories, and had wound upeventually at the most remote of all--the 132nd Segment and Roye.
That was one factor. Just visible twenty thousand feet belowPhil--almost directly beneath him now as the aircar made its thirdleisurely crossing of the central belt of the peninsula--was another.From here it looked like an irregular brown circle against thepeninsula's nearly white ground. Lower down, it would have resemblednothing so much as the broken and half-decayed spirals of a giganticsnail shell, its base sunk deep in the ground and its shattered pointrearing twelve stories above it. This structure, known popularly as "theruins" in Fort Roye, was supposed to have been the last stronghold of asemi-intelligent race native to Roye, which might have become extinctbarely a century before the Earthmen arrived. A factor associated withthe ruins again was that their investigation was the passionatelypursued hobby of First Lieutenant Norman Vaughn, Fort Roye's ScienceOfficer.
Add to such things the reason Roye was not considered in need of aserious defensive effort by Earth's strategists--the vast distancesbetween it and any troubled area, and so the utter improbability that aGeest ship might come close enough to discover that here was anotherworld as well suited for its race as for human beings. And then a finalfactor: the instrument attached to the lining of Phil's coat--a veryspecial "camera" which now carried the contact impressions made on it byUncle William's souvenir gun. Put 'em all together, Phil thoughtcheerily, and they spelled out interesting developments on Roye in thevery near future.
He glanced at his watch again, swung the aircar about and started backinland. He passed presently high above Aunt Beulah's tupa ranch and thatof the Feeney family two miles farther up the mountain, turned graduallyto the east and twenty minutes later was edging back down the ranges tothe coast. Here in a wild, unfarmed region, perched at the edge of acliff dropping nearly nine hundred feet to the swirling tide, was asmall, trim cabin which was the property of a small, trim Fort Roye ladynamed Celia Adams. Celia had been shipped out from Earth six yearsbefore, almost certainly as an Undesirable, though only the TerritorialOffice and Celia herself knew about that, the Botany Bay aspect ofworlds like Roye being handled with some tact by Earth.
* * *
Phil approached the cabin only as far as was necessary to make sure thatthe dark-green aircar parked before it was one belonging to Major WayneJackson, the Administration Officer and second in command at FortRoye--another native son and an old acquaintance. He then turned away,dropped to the woods ten miles south and made a second inconspicuousapproach under cover of the trees. There might be casual observers inthe area, and while his meeting with Jackson and Celia Adams todayrevealed nothing in itself, it would be better if no one knew about it.
He grounded the car in the forest a few hundred yards from the Adamscabin, slung a rifle over his shoulder and set off along a game path. Itwas good hunting territory, and the rifle would explain his presence ifhe ran into somebody. When he came within view of the cabin, hediscovered Celia and her visitor on the covered back patio, drinksstanding before them. Jackson was in hunting clothes. Phil remainedquietly back among the trees for some seconds watching the two, aware ofsomething like a last-minute hesitancy. A number of things passed slowlythrough his mind.
What they planned to do was no small matter. It was a hoax which shouldhave far-reaching results, on a gigantic scale. And if Earth governmentrealized it had been hoaxed, the thing could become very unpleasant.That tough-minded central bureaucracy did not ordinarily bother toobtain proof against those it suspected. The suspicion was enough.Individuals and groups whom the shadow of doubt touched found themselvesshunted unobtrusively into some backwater of existence and kept there.It was supposed to be very difficult to emerge from such a positionagain.
In the back of his mind, Phil had been conscious of that, but it hadseemed an insignificant threat against the excitement arising from thegrandiose impudence of the plan, the perhaps rather small-boyish delightat being able to put something over, profitably, on the greatest powerof all. Even now it might have been only a natural wariness that broughtthe threat up for a final moment of reflection. He didn't, of course,want to incur Earth government's disapproval. But why believe that hemight? On all Roye there would be only three who knew--Wayne Jackson,Celia Adams, and himself. All three would benefit, each in a differentway, and all would be equally responsible for the hoax. No chance ofindiscretion or belated qualms there. Their own interest ruled it out ineach case.
And from the other men now involved there was as little danger ofbetrayal. Their gain would be vastly greater, but they hadcorrespondingly more to lose. They would take every step required toinsure their protection, and in doing that they would necessarily takethe best of care of Phil Boles.
* * * * *
"How did you ever get such a thing smuggled in to Roye?" Phil asked.He'd swallowed half the drink Celia offered him at a gulp and now, a fewminutes later, he was experiencing what might have been under differentcircumstances a comfortable glow, but which didn't entirely erase theawareness of having committed himself at this hour to an irrevocableline of action.
Celia stroked a fluffy lock of red-brown hair back from her forehead andglanced over at him. She had a narrow, pretty face, marred only by asuggestion of hardness about the mouth--which was a little more thanordinarily noticeable just now. Phil decided she felt something like hisown tensions, for identical reasons. He was less certain about MajorWayne Jackson, a big, loose-jointed man with an easy-going smile and apleasantly self-assured voice. The voice might be veering a trifle toofar to the hearty side; but that was all.
"I didn't," Celia said. "It belonged to Frank. How he got it shipped inwith him--or after him--from Earth I don't know. He never told me. Whenhe died a couple of years ago, I took it over."
Phil gazed reflectively at the row of unfamiliar instruments coveringhalf the table beside her. The "camera" which had taken an imprint ofthe Geest gun in Aunt Beulah's living room went with that equipment andhad become an interior section of the largest of the instruments. "Whatdo y
ou call it?" he asked.
Celia looked irritated. Jackson laughed, said, "Why not tell him? Phil'sfeeling like we do--this is the last chance to look everything over,make sure nobody's slipped up, that nothing can go wrong. Right, Phil?"
Phil nodded. "Something like that."
Celia chewed her lip. "All right," she said. "It doesn't matter, Isuppose--compared with the other." She tapped one of the instruments."The set's called a duplicator. This one's around sixty years old.They're classified as a forgery device, and it's decidedly illegal for aprivate person to build one, own one, or use one."
"Why that?"
"Because forgery is ordinarily all they're good for. Frank was one ofthe best of the boys in that line before he found he'd been put on anouttransfer
The planet was not at fault. Essentially, it had what was needed tobecome a thriving colony in every sense. At fault was the Geest War. Thewar had periods of flare-up and periods in which it seemed to besubsiding. During the past decade it had been subsiding again. One ofthe early flare-ups, one of the worst, and the one which brought the warclosest to Earth itself, was the Gunderland Battle in which UncleWilliam Boles' trophy gun had been acquired. But the war never came nearRoye. The action was all in the opposite section of the giant sphere ofthe Space Territories, and over the years the war drew steadily fartheraway.
And Earth's vast wealth--its manpower, materials and money--was pouringinto space in the direction the Geest War was moving. Worlds not a tenthas naturally attractive as Roye, worlds where the basic conditions forhuman life were just above the unbearable point, were settled and held,equipped with everything needed and wanted to turn them into independentgiant fortresses, with a population not too dissatisfied with its lot.When Earth government didn't count the expense, life could be madeconsiderably better than bearable almost anywhere.
Those were the circumstances which condemned Roye to insignificance. Noteveryone minded. Phil Boles, native son, did mind. His inclinations werethose of an operator, and he was not being given an adequate opportunityto exercise them. Therefore, the circumstances would have to be changed,and the precise time to make the change was at hand. Phil himself wasnot aware of every factor involved, but he was aware of enough of them.Back on Earth, a certain political situation was edging towards aspecific point of instability. As a result, an Earth ship which was notone of the regular freighters had put down at Fort Roye some daysbefore. Among its passengers were Commissioner Sanford of theTerritorial Office, a well-known politician, and a Mr. Ronald Black, thepopular and enterprising owner of Earth's second largest news outletsystem. They were on a joint fact-finding tour of the thinly scatteredcolonies in this remote section of the Territories, and had wound upeventually at the most remote of all--the 132nd Segment and Roye.
That was one factor. Just visible twenty thousand feet belowPhil--almost directly beneath him now as the aircar made its thirdleisurely crossing of the central belt of the peninsula--was another.From here it looked like an irregular brown circle against thepeninsula's nearly white ground. Lower down, it would have resemblednothing so much as the broken and half-decayed spirals of a giganticsnail shell, its base sunk deep in the ground and its shattered pointrearing twelve stories above it. This structure, known popularly as "theruins" in Fort Roye, was supposed to have been the last stronghold of asemi-intelligent race native to Roye, which might have become extinctbarely a century before the Earthmen arrived. A factor associated withthe ruins again was that their investigation was the passionatelypursued hobby of First Lieutenant Norman Vaughn, Fort Roye's ScienceOfficer.
Add to such things the reason Roye was not considered in need of aserious defensive effort by Earth's strategists--the vast distancesbetween it and any troubled area, and so the utter improbability that aGeest ship might come close enough to discover that here was anotherworld as well suited for its race as for human beings. And then a finalfactor: the instrument attached to the lining of Phil's coat--a veryspecial "camera" which now carried the contact impressions made on it byUncle William's souvenir gun. Put 'em all together, Phil thoughtcheerily, and they spelled out interesting developments on Roye in thevery near future.
He glanced at his watch again, swung the aircar about and started backinland. He passed presently high above Aunt Beulah's tupa ranch and thatof the Feeney family two miles farther up the mountain, turned graduallyto the east and twenty minutes later was edging back down the ranges tothe coast. Here in a wild, unfarmed region, perched at the edge of acliff dropping nearly nine hundred feet to the swirling tide, was asmall, trim cabin which was the property of a small, trim Fort Roye ladynamed Celia Adams. Celia had been shipped out from Earth six yearsbefore, almost certainly as an Undesirable, though only the TerritorialOffice and Celia herself knew about that, the Botany Bay aspect ofworlds like Roye being handled with some tact by Earth.
* * *
Phil approached the cabin only as far as was necessary to make sure thatthe dark-green aircar parked before it was one belonging to Major WayneJackson, the Administration Officer and second in command at FortRoye--another native son and an old acquaintance. He then turned away,dropped to the woods ten miles south and made a second inconspicuousapproach under cover of the trees. There might be casual observers inthe area, and while his meeting with Jackson and Celia Adams todayrevealed nothing in itself, it would be better if no one knew about it.
He grounded the car in the forest a few hundred yards from the Adamscabin, slung a rifle over his shoulder and set off along a game path. Itwas good hunting territory, and the rifle would explain his presence ifhe ran into somebody. When he came within view of the cabin, hediscovered Celia and her visitor on the covered back patio, drinksstanding before them. Jackson was in hunting clothes. Phil remainedquietly back among the trees for some seconds watching the two, aware ofsomething like a last-minute hesitancy. A number of things passed slowlythrough his mind.
What they planned to do was no small matter. It was a hoax which shouldhave far-reaching results, on a gigantic scale. And if Earth governmentrealized it had been hoaxed, the thing could become very unpleasant.That tough-minded central bureaucracy did not ordinarily bother toobtain proof against those it suspected. The suspicion was enough.Individuals and groups whom the shadow of doubt touched found themselvesshunted unobtrusively into some backwater of existence and kept there.It was supposed to be very difficult to emerge from such a positionagain.
In the back of his mind, Phil had been conscious of that, but it hadseemed an insignificant threat against the excitement arising from thegrandiose impudence of the plan, the perhaps rather small-boyish delightat being able to put something over, profitably, on the greatest powerof all. Even now it might have been only a natural wariness that broughtthe threat up for a final moment of reflection. He didn't, of course,want to incur Earth government's disapproval. But why believe that hemight? On all Roye there would be only three who knew--Wayne Jackson,Celia Adams, and himself. All three would benefit, each in a differentway, and all would be equally responsible for the hoax. No chance ofindiscretion or belated qualms there. Their own interest ruled it out ineach case.
And from the other men now involved there was as little danger ofbetrayal. Their gain would be vastly greater, but they hadcorrespondingly more to lose. They would take every step required toinsure their protection, and in doing that they would necessarily takethe best of care of Phil Boles.
* * * * *
"How did you ever get such a thing smuggled in to Roye?" Phil asked.He'd swallowed half the drink Celia offered him at a gulp and now, a fewminutes later, he was experiencing what might have been under differentcircumstances a comfortable glow, but which didn't entirely erase theawareness of having committed himself at this hour to an irrevocableline of action.
Celia stroked a fluffy lock of red-brown hair back from her forehead andglanced over at him. She had a narrow, pretty face, marred only by asuggestion of hardness about the mouth--which was a little more thanordinarily noticeable just now. Phil decided she felt something like hisown tensions, for identical reasons. He was less certain about MajorWayne Jackson, a big, loose-jointed man with an easy-going smile and apleasantly self-assured voice. The voice might be veering a trifle toofar to the hearty side; but that was all.
"I didn't," Celia said. "It belonged to Frank. How he got it shipped inwith him--or after him--from Earth I don't know. He never told me. Whenhe died a couple of years ago, I took it over."
Phil gazed reflectively at the row of unfamiliar instruments coveringhalf the table beside her. The "camera" which had taken an imprint ofthe Geest gun in Aunt Beulah's living room went with that equipment andhad become an interior section of the largest of the instruments. "Whatdo y
Celia looked irritated. Jackson laughed, said, "Why not tell him? Phil'sfeeling like we do--this is the last chance to look everything over,make sure nobody's slipped up, that nothing can go wrong. Right, Phil?"
Phil nodded. "Something like that."
Celia chewed her lip. "All right," she said. "It doesn't matter, Isuppose--compared with the other." She tapped one of the instruments."The set's called a duplicator. This one's around sixty years old.They're classified as a forgery device, and it's decidedly illegal for aprivate person to build one, own one, or use one."
"Why that?"
"Because forgery is ordinarily all they're good for. Frank was one ofthe best of the boys in that line before he found he'd been put on anouttransfer