"So what about their line at Bruno?" Caldwell asked again, looking mystified. "It doesn’t fit."
There was a short silence before Packard proceeded. "How’s this for a theory? Controlling minorities never have anything to gain from change. That explains their traditional opposition to technology all through history, unless it offered something to advance their interests. That meant it was okay as long as they controlled it. Hence we get the traditional stance of their kind through to the end of the last century. But by that time it was becoming obvious from the way the world was going that if something didn’t change soon, somebody was going to start pressing buttons, and then there wouldn’t be any kind of pond left to be a fish in. The only choice was nuclear reactors or nuclear bombs. So this revolution they made happen, and they managed to maintain control in the process-which was neat.
"But Thurien and everything it could mean was something else. This group would have been swept away by the time the dust from that kind of revolution finally settled. So they cornered the UN handling of the matter and put up a wall until they got some ideas about where to go next." He threw out his hands and looked around the room to invite comment.
"How did they find out about the relay?" Norman Pacey asked from a corner. "We know from what Gregg and Lyn said that the coded signals had nothing to do with it. And we know Sobroskin wasn’t mixed up with it."
"They must have been involved with getting rid of it," Packard replied. "I don’t know how, but I can’t think of anything else. They could have used some personnel of UNSA who they knew wouldn’t talk, or maybe a government or commercial outfit that operates independently to send a bomb or something out there, probably as soon as the first signal from Gistar came in months ago. So what they’ve been doing is stalling things until it got there."
Caldwell nodded. "It makes sense. You’ve got to hand it to them-they almost had it tied up. If it wasn’t for McClusky-who knows?"
A solemn silence descended and persisted for a while. Eventually Lyn looked inquiringly from one man to another. "So what happens now?" she asked.
"I’m not sure," Packard replied. "It’s a complicated situation all around,"
She looked at him uncertainly for a second. "You’re not saying they might get away with it?"
"It’s a possibility."
Lyn stared as if she couldn’t believe her ears. "But that’s ridiculous! You’re telling us that for. . . I don’t know how many years, people like this have been keeping whole nations backward, sabotaging education, and supporting all kinds of idiot cults and propaganda to stay on top of the pile, and there’s nothing anybody can do? That’s crazy!"
"I didn’t put the situation as definitely as that," Packard said. "I said it’s complicated. Being pretty sure of something and being able to prove it are two different things. We’re going to have to do a lot more work to make a case out of it."
"But, but . . ." Lyn searched for words. "What else do you need? It’s all wrapped up. Bombing that relay outside Pluto has to be enough on its own. They weren’t acting for the whole planet when they did that, and certainly not in its interests. There has to be enough in that to nail them."
"We don’t have any way of knowing for sure that they did it," Packard pointed out. "It’s pure speculation. Maybe the relay just broke down. Maybe Calazar’s organization did it. You couldn’t pin anything on Sverenssen that’d stick."
"He knew it was going to happen," Lyn objected. "Of course he was mixed up in it."
"Knew on whose say-so?" Packard countered. "One little girl at Bruno who thinks she might have overheard something that she didn’t understand, anyway." He shook his head. "You heard Norman’s story. Sverenssen could produce witnesses lined up all down the hall to state that he never had anything to do with her. She became infatuated, then went running to Norman with a silly story to get even when Sverenssen wasn’t interested. Such things happen all the time."
"What about the fake signals he got her to send?" Lyn persisted.
"What fake signals?" Packard shrugged. "All part of the same game. She made up that story. They never existed."
"But the Thurien records say they did," Lyn said. "You don’t have to tell the whole world about Alaska right now, but when the time’s right you can wheel in a whole planet of Ganymeans to back you up."
"True, but all they confirm is that some strange signals came in that weren’t sent officially. They don’t confirm where they came from or who sent them. The header formats could have been faked to resemble Farside’s." Packard shook his head again. "When you think it through, the evidence is not anywhere near conclusive."
Lyn turned an imploring face toward Caldwell. He shook his head regretfully. "He’s got some good points. I’d like to see them all go down just as much as you would, but it doesn’t look as if the case to do it is there yet."
"The problem is you can never get near them," Benson said, coming back into the conversation. "They don’t make many slips, and when they do you’re never around. Now and again you get something leaking out like what happened at Bruno, but it’s never enough to be a clincher. That’s what we need-something to clinch it. We need to put somebody on the inside, close to Sverenssen." He shook his head dubiously. "But something like that needs a lot of research and planning, and it takes a long time to select the right person for the job. We’ll start working on it, but don’t hold your breath waiting for results."
Lyn, Caldwell, and Pacey were all staying at the Washington Central Hilton. They ate dinner together that evening, and over coffee Pacey talked more about what they had learned in Packard’s office.
"You can trace the same basic struggle right down through history," he told them. "Two opposed ideologies-the feudalism of the aristocracies on one side, and the republicanism of the artisans, scientists, and city-builders on the other. You had it with the slave economies of the ancient world, the intellectual oppressions of the Church in Europe in the Middle Ages, the colonialism of the British Empire, and, later on, Eastern Communism and Western consumerism."
"Keep ’em working hard, give ’em a cause to believe in, and don’t teach ’em to think too hard, huh?" Caldwell commented.
"Exactly." Pacey nodded. "The last thing you want is an educated, affluent, and emancipated population. Power hinges on the restriction and control of wealth. Science and technology offer unlimited wealth. Therefore science and technology have to be controlled. Knowledge and reason are enemies; myth and unreason are the weapons you fight them with."
Lyn was still thinking about the conversation an hour later when the three of them were sitting around a small table in a quiet alcove that opened off one end of the lobby. They had opted for a last drink before calling it a night, but the bar had seemed too crowded and noisy. It was the same war that Vic, consciously or not, had been fighting all his life, she realized. The Sverenssens who had almost shut down Thurien stood side by side with the Inquisition that had forced Galileo to recant, the bishops who had opposed Darwin, the English nobility who would have ruled the Americas as a captive market for home industry, and the politicians on both sides of the Iron Curtain who had seized the atom to hold a world to ransom with bombs. She wanted to contribute something to his war, even if only a token gesture to show that she was on his side. But what? She had never felt so restless and so helpless at the same time.