Ford sat up suddenly. “Oh! I see your thought. I had not followed it through, but let’s face it. Why not? Would it not be better to give up space travel than to let this situation degenerate into open war? It was given up once before.”
“Yes, when the Venerians threw off their absentee landlords. But it started up again and Luna City is rebuilt and ten times more tonnage moves through the sky than ever did before. Can you stop it? If you can, will it stay stopped?”
Ford turned it over and over in his mind. He could not stop space travel, no administration could. But could an interdict be placed on whatever planet these oldsters were shipped to? And would it help? One generation, two, three … what difference would it make? Ancient Japan had tried some solution like that; the foreign devils had come sailing in anyhow. Cultures could not be kept apart forever, and when they did come in contact, the hardier displaced the weaker; that was a natural law.
A permanent and effective quarantine was impossible. That left only one answer-an ugly one. But Ford was toughminded; he could accept what was necessary. He started making plans, Barstow’s presence in the screen forgotten. Once he gave the Chief Provost the location of the Howard Families headquarters it should be reduced in an hour, two at the most unless they had extraordinary defenses-but anywise it was just a matter of time. From those who would be arrested at their headquarters it should be possible to locate and arrest every other member of their group. With luck he would have them all in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
The only point left undecided in his mind was whether to liquidate them all, or simply to sterilize them. Either would be a final solution and there was no third solution. But which was the more humane?
Ford knew that this would end his career. He would leave office in disgrace, perhaps be sent to Coventry, but he gave it no thought; he was so constituted as to be unable to weigh his own welfare against his concept of his public duty.
Barstow could not read Ford’s mind but he did sense that Ford had reached a decision and he surmised correctly how bad that decision must be for himself and his kin. Now was the time, he decided, to risk his one lone trump.
“Mister Administrator-“
“Eh? Oh, sorry! I was preoccupied.” That was a vast understatement; he was shockingly embarrassed to find himself still facing a man he had just condemned to death. He gathered formality about him like a robe. “Thank you, Zaccur Barstow, for talking with me. I am sorry that-“
“Mister Administrator!”
“Yes?”
“I propose that you move us entirely out of the Solar System.”
“What?” Ford blinked. “Are you speaking seriously?”
Barstow spoke rapidly, persuasively, explaining Lazarus Long’s half-conceived scheme, improvising details as he went along, skipping over obstacles and emphasizing advantages.
“It might work,” Ford at last said slowly. “There are difficulties you have not mentioned, political difficulties and a terrible hazard of time. Still, it might.” He stood up. “Go back to your people. Don’t spring this on them yet. I’ll talk with you later.”
Barstow walked back slowly while wondering what he could tell the Members. They would demand a full report; technically he had no right to refuse. But he was strongly inclined to cooperate with the Administrator as long as there was any chance of a favorable outcome. Suddenly making up his mind, he turned, went to his office, and sent for Lazarus.
“Howdy, Zack,” Long said as he came in. “How’d the palaver go?”
“Good and bad,” Barstow replied. “Listen-” He gave him a brief, accurate resume. “Can you go back in there and tell them something that will hold them?”
“Mmm … reckon so.”
“Then do it and hurry back here.”
They did not like the stall Lazarus gave them. They did not want to keep quiet and they did not want to adjourn the meeting. “Where is Zaccur?”-“We demand a report!”-“Why all the mystification?”
Lazarus shut them up with a roar. “Listen to me, you damned idiots! Zack’ll talk when he’s ready-don’t joggle his elbow. He knows what he’s doing.”
A man near the back stood up. “I’m going home!”
“Do that,” Lazarus urged sweetly. “Give my love to the proctors.”
The man looked startled and sat down.
“Anybody else want to go home?” demanded Lazarus. “Don’t let me stop you. But it’s time you bird-brained dopes realized that you have been outlawed. The only thing that stands between you and the proctors is Zack Barstow’s ability to talk sweet to the Administrator. So do as you like the meeting’s adjourned.”
“Look, Zack,” said Lazarus a few minutes later, “let’s get this straight. Ford is going to use his extraordinary powers to help us glom onto the big ship and make a getaway. Is that right?”
“He’s practically committed to it.”
“Hmmm-He’ll have to do this while pretending to the Council that everything he does is just a necessary step in squeezing the ‘secret’ out of us-he’s going to double-cross ‘em. That right?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I-“
“But that’s true, isn’t it?”
“Well … yes, it must be true.”
“Okay. Now, is our boy Ford bright enough to realize what he is letting himself in for and tough enough to go through with it?”
Barstow reviewed what he knew of Ford and added his impressions from the interview. “Yes,” he decided, “he knows and he’s strong enough to face it.”
“All right. Now how about you, pal? Are you up to it, too?” Lazarus’ voice was accusing.
“Me? What do you mean?”
“You’re planning on double-crossing your crowd, too, aren’t you? Have you got the guts to go through with it when the going gets tough?”
“I don’t understand you, Lazarus,” Barstow answered worriedly. “I’m not planning to deceive anyone-at least, no member of the Families.”
“Better look at your cards again,” Lazarus went on remorselessly. “Your part of the deal is to see to it that every man, woman and child takes part in this exodus. Do you expect to sell the idea to each one of them separately and get a hundred thousand people to agree? Unanimously? Shucks, you couldn’t get that many to whistle ‘Yankee Doodle’ unanimously.”
“But they will have to agree,” protested Barstow. “They have no choice. We either emigrate, or they hunt us down and kill us. I’m certain that is what Ford intends to do. And he will.”
“Then why didn’t you walk into the meeting and tell ‘em that? Why did you send me in to give ‘em a stall?”
Barstow rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you why,” continued Lazarus. “You think better with your hunches than most men do with the tops of their minds. You sent me in there to tell ‘em a tale because you knew damn well the truth wouldn’t serve. If you told ‘em it was get out or get killed, some would get panicky and some would get stubborn. And some old-woman-in-kilts would decide to go home and stand on his Covenant rights. Then he’d spill the scheme before it ever dawned on him that the government was playing for keeps. That’s right, isn’t it?”
Barstow shrugged and laughed unhappily. “You’re right. I didn’t have it figured out but you’re absolutely right.”
“But you did have it figured out,” Lazarus assured him. “You had the right answers. Zack, I like your hunches; that’s why I’m stringing along. All right, you and Ford are planning to pull a whizzer on every man jack on this globe-I’m asking you again: have you got the guts to see it through?”