From the Ocean from teh Stars (28 page)

better off if man had never existed. The sentence of annihilation is about
to be pronounced when another sponsor arrives in the nick of time, and
humanity is saved. The only other creature who has any use for man is
—the mosquito.

"Now you may think that is merely an amusing jest; so, I am sure,
did Dunsany—who happened to be a keen hunter. But poets often speak
hidden truths of which they themselves are unaware, and I believe that
this almost forgotten play contains an allegory of profound importance to
the human race.

"Within a century or so, Franklin, we will literally be going outside
the solar system. Sooner or later we will meet types of intelligent life
much higher than our own, yet in forms completely alien. And when that
time comes, the treatment man receives from his superiors may well
depend upon the way he has behaved toward the other creatures of his
own world."

The words were spoken so quietly, yet with such conviction, that they
struck a sudden chill into Franklin's soul. For the first time he felt that
there might be something in the other's point of view—something, that
is, besides mere humanitarianism. (But could humanitarianism ever be
"mere"?) He had never liked the final climax of his work, for he had
long ago developed a great affection for his monstrous charges, but he
had always regarded it as a regrettable necessity.

"I grant that your points are well made," he admitted, "but whether
we like them or not, we have to accept the realities of life. I don't know
who coined the phrase 'Nature red in tooth and claw,' but that's the way
she is. And if the world has to choose between food and ethics, I know
which will win."

The Thero gave that secret, gentle smile which, consciously or otherwise, seemed to echo the benign gaze that so many generations of artists
had made the hallmark of the Buddha.

"But that is just the point, my dear Franklin," he answered. "There
is no longer any need for a choice. Ours is the first generation in the
world's history that can break the ancient cycle, and eat what it pleases
without spilling the blood of innocent creatures. I am sincerely grateful
to you for helping to show me how."

"Me!" exploded Franklin.

"Exactly," said the Thero, the extent of his smile now far exceeding
the canons of Buddhist art. "And now, if you will excuse me, I think I'll
go to sleep."

☆
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

So
this," grumbled Franklin, "is my reward for twenty years of devoted public service—to be regarded even by my own family as a bloodstained butcher."

"But all that was true, wasn't it?" said Anne, pointing to the TV screen, which a few seconds ago had been dripping with gore.

"Of course it was. But it was also very cleverly edited propaganda. I could make out just as good a case for our side."

"Are you sure of that?" asked Indra. "The division will certainly want you to, but it may not be easy."

Franklin snorted indignantly.

"Why, those statistics are all nonsense! The very idea of switching our entire herds to milking instead of slaughtering is just crazy. If we converted all our resources to whale-milk production we couldn't make up a quarter of the loss of fats and protein involved in closing down the processing plants."

"Now, Walter," said Indra placidly, "there's no need to break a blood vessel trying to keep calm. What's really upset you is the suggestion that the plankton farms should be extended to make up the deficit."

"Well, you're the biologist. Is it practical to turn that pea soup into prime ribs of beef or T-bone steaks?"

"It's obviously
possible.
It was a very clever move, having the chef of the Waldorf tasting both the genuine and the synthetic product, and being unable to tell the difference. There's no doubt you're going to have a lovely fight on your hands—the farm people will jump right in on the Thero's side of the fence, and the whole Marine Division will be split wide open."

"He probably planned that," said Franklin with reluctant admiration. "He's diabolically well-informed. I wish now I hadn't said so much about the possibilities of milk production during that interview—and they did overplay it a bit in the final article. I'm sure that's what started the whole business."

"That's another thing I was going to mention. Where did he get the figures on which he based his statistics? As far as I know, they have never been published anywhere outside the bureau."

"You're right," conceded Franklin. "I should have thought of that

before. First thing tomorrow morning I'm going out to Heron Island to have a little talk with Dr. Lundquist."

"Will you take me, Daddy," pleaded Anne.

"Not this time, young lady. I wouldn't like an innocent daughter of mine to hear some of the things I may have to say."

"Dr. Lundquist is out in the lagoon, sir," said the chief lab assistant. "There's no way of contacting him until he decides to come up."

"Oh, isn't there? I could go down and tap him on the shoulder."

"I don't think that would be at all wise, sir. Attila and Genghis Khan aren't very fond of strangers."

"Good God—is he swimming with
them!"

"Oh yes—they're quite fond of him, and they've got very friendly with the wardens who work with them. But anyone else might be eaten rather quickly."

Quite a lot seemed to be going on, thought Franklin, that he knew very little about. He decided to walk to the lagoon; unless it was extremely hot, or one had something to carry, it was never worthwhile to take a car for such short distances.

He had changed his mind by the time he reached the new eastern jetty. Either Heron Island was getting bigger or he was beginning to feel his years. He sat down on the keel of an upturned dinghy, and looked out to sea. The tide was in, but the sharp dividing line marking the edge of the reef was clearly visible, and in the fenced-off enclosure the spouts of the two killer whales appeared as intermittent plumes of mist. There was a small boat out there, with somebody in it, but it was too far away for him to tell whether it was Dr. Lundquist or one of his assistants.

He waited for a few minutes, then telephoned for a boat to carry him out to the reef. In slightly more time than it would have taken him to swim there, he arrived at the enclosure and had his first look at Attila and Genghis Khan.

The two killer whales were a little under thirty feet long, and as his boat approached them they simultaneously reared out of the water and stared at him with their huge, intelligent eyes. The unusual attitude, and the pure white of the bodies now presented to him, gave Franklin the uncanny impression that he was face to face not with animals but with beings who might be higher in the order of creation than himself. He knew that the truth was far otherwise, and reminded himself that he was looking at the most ruthless killer in the sea.

No, that was not quite correct. The
second
most ruthless killer in the sea. . . .

The whales dropped back into the water, apparently satisfied with their scrutiny. It was then that Franklin made out Lundquist, working
about thirty feet down with a small torpedo loaded with instruments.
Probably the commotion had disturbed him, because he came quickly
to the surface and lay treading water, with his face mask pushed back,
as he recognized his visitor.

"Good morning, Mr. Franklin. I wasn't expecting you today. What
do you think of my pupils?"

"Very impressive. How well are they learning their lessons?"

"There's no doubt about it—they're brilliant. Even cleverer than
porpoises, and surprisingly affectionate when they get to know you. I can
teach them to do anything now. If I wanted to commit the perfect murder,
I could tell them that you were a seal on an ice floe, and they'd have the
boat over in two seconds."

"In that case, I'd prefer to continue our conversation back on land.
Have you finished whatever you're doing?"

"It's never finished, but that doesn't matter. I'll ride the torp back—
no need to lift all this gear into the boat."

The scientist swung his tiny metal fish around toward the island, and
promptly set off at a speed which the dinghy could not hope to match.
At once the two killers streaked after him, their huge dorsal fins leaving
a creamy wake in the water. It seemed a dangerous game of tag to play,
but before Franklin could discover what would happen when the killers
caught the torpedo, Lundquist had crossed the shallow but clearly marked
mesh around the enclosure, and the two whales broke their rush in a
flurry of spray.

Franklin was very thoughtful on the way back to land. He had known
Lundquist for years, but now he felt that this was the first time he had ever
really seen him. There had never been any doubt concerning his origi
nality—indeed, his brilliance—but he also appeared to possess unsus
pected courage and initiative. None of which, Franklin determined grimly,
would help him unless he had a satisfactory answer to certain questions.

Dressed in his everyday clothes, and back in the familiar laboratory
surroundings, Lundquist was the man Franklin had always known. "Now,
John," he began, "I suppose you've seen this television propaganda against the bureau?"

"Of course. But is it
against
us?"

"It's certainly against our main activity, but we won't argue that point.
What I want to know is this: Have you been in touch with the Maha
Thero?"

"Oh yes. He contacted me immediately after that article appeared in
Earth Magazine."

"And you passed on confidential information to him?"

Lundquist looked sincerely hurt.

"I resent that, Mr. Franklin. The only information I gave him was
an advance proof of my paper on whale-milk production, which comes out
in the
Cetological Review
next month. You approved it for publication
yourself."

The accusations that Franklin was going to make collapsed around
his ears, and he felt suddenly rather ashamed of himself.

"I'm sorry, John," he said. "I take that back. All this has made me a
bit jumpy, and I just want to sort out the facts before HQ starts chasing
me. But don't you think you should have told me about this inquiry?"

"Frankly, I don't see why. We get all sorts of queries every day, and
I saw no reason to suppose that this was not just another routine one. Of
course, I was pleased that somebody was taking a particular interest in
my special project, and I gave them all the help I could."

"Very well," said Franklin resignedly. "Let's forget the post-mortem. But answer for me this question: As a scientist, do you really believe that we can afford to stop whale slaughtering and switch over to milk and
synthetics?"

"Given ten years, we can do it if we have to. There's no technical objection that I can see. Of course I can't guarantee the figures on the
plankton-farming side, but you can bet your life that the Thero had
accurate sources of information there as well."

"But you realize what this will mean! If it starts with whales, sooner
or later it will go right down the line through all the domestic animals."

"And why not? The prospect rather appeals to me. If science and
religion can combine to take some of the cruelty out of Nature, isn't that a good thing?"

"You sound like a crypto-Buddhist—and I'm tired of pointing out
that there's no cruelty in what we are doing. Meanwhile, if the Thero asks
any more questions, kindly refer him to me."

"Very good, Mr. Franklin," Lundquist replied rather stiffly. There
was an awkward pause, providentially broken by the arrival of a mes
senger.

"Headquarters wants to speak to you, Mr. Franklin. It's urgent."

"I bet it is," muttered Franklin. Then he caught sight of Lundquist's still somewhat hostile expression, and could not suppress a smile.

"If you can train orcas to be wardens, John," he said, "you'd better