Dark Ararat - Brian Stableford [105]
Matthew hesitated for a moment before saying: “What did Bernal Delgado think?”
“Bernal was an honest scientist,” Tang told him. “He had listened to both sides of the case, and had reserved his judgment—but I must believe, must I not, that he would have seen soon enough that I am right?”
“Are you implying that that was the reason for his murder?”
“I have not the slightest idea why Bernal was murdered,” Tang assured him, “nor have I any idea who might have killed him, in spite of what your friend the policeman thinks.”
“Vince has reserved his judgment too,” Matthew assured him. “If he suggests otherwise, it’s purely for tactical reasons. What difference would it make to your calculation of the logic of the situation if the alien humanoids turned out not to be extinct?”
“As a good Hardinist,” Tang said, letting a little irony into his voice, “I would surely be bound to assume that they were the putative owners of the world, and the best potential stewards of its future development. If there are intelligent aliens here—and if the city-builders still exist, even if they have given up the city-building habit, they must surely be reckoned intelligent—they are entitled to every moral consideration that we would apply to our own kind. This is not 1492, Dr. Fleury; we must learn from our historians as well as our prophets.”
“And what would you do if you found out that someone had been forging alien artifacts, perhaps with a view to persuading others that the aliens were not extinct?”
“I would be very sad to think that anyone would sink to such a subterfuge,” Tang told him.
“Solari’s convinced that Bernal faked the spearhead himself,” Matthew told him, although he knew that Solari would not appreciate his traps being prematurely sprung. “Is there anyone here who feels strongly enough to take violent exception to a discovery like that?”
“I would be very sad to think so,” Tang repeated. There had, of course, been no possibility that he would drop the slightest hint of accusation, even though Rand Blackstone was the man most flagrantly opposed to his own position—and thus might be reckoned to have the most to lose, if anyone did persuade others, dishonestly, that the intelligent aliens were still around.
Matthew thought that was the end of it, until Tang added one more observation. “However sad I may be or may become,” the biochemist said, seeming to pick his words very carefully indeed, “I do wonder how much it really matters who killed Dr. Delgado, or why. Whatever the details of the crime may have been, it is the world and the problems it poses that have shaped his death. No matter what solution your friend may find, the significance of the event remains the same. We came here too hurriedly, Dr. Fleury, and we are ill-equipped for our chosen task. If we cannot decide to be rational and dutiful, there may be many other deaths. We are mortal—and we know now how frail we are by comparison with those who inherited the world we left behind. I only pray that we may use what life we have as cleverly and as carefully as we possibly can.”
The biochemist’s tone was still level, still amiable, still perfectly serious—but for the first time, Matthew felt that he had caught a glimpse of the awful bleakness and devouring fear that had taken hold of the man. There were, apparently, many people at Base One who felt exactly the same. Matthew realized that the situation into which he had been delivered really was far more complicated than he had so far been prepared to assume.
TWENTY-FOUR
Night had fallen by the time Ikram Mohammed