The Sentinel - Arthur C. Clarke [33]
Stormgren was silent for a while. He felt little of the satisfaction that Karellen’s statement would have once given him. Indeed, he was somewhat confused by his partial success and for a moment his resolution faltered. The truth would come with the passage of time, and all his plotting was unnecessary and perhaps unwise. If he still went ahead, it would only be for the selfish reason that he would not be alive fifty years from now.
Karellen must have seen his irresolution, for he continued:
“I’m sorry if this disappoints you, but at least the political problems of the near future won’t be your responsibility. Perhaps you still think that our fears are unfounded, but believe me we’ve had convincing proof of the dangers of any other course.”
Stormgren leaned forward, breathing heavily.
“I always thought so! You have been seen by Man!”
“I didn’t say that,” Karellen answered after a short pause. “Your world isn’t the only planet we’ve supervised.”
Stormgren was not to be shaken off so easily.
“There have been many legends suggesting that Earth has been visited in the past by other races.”
“I know: I’ve read the Historical Research Section’s report. It makes Earth look like the crossroads of the Universe.”
“There may have been visits about which you know nothing,” said Stormgren, still angling hopefully. “Though since you must have been observing us for thousands of years, I suppose that’s rather unlikely.”
“I suppose it is,” said Karellen in his most unhelpful manner. And at that moment Stormgren made up his mind.
“Karellen,” he said abruptly, “I’ll draft out the statement and send it up to you for approval. But I reserve the right to continue pestering you, and if I see any opportunity, I’ll do my best to learn your secret.”
“I’m perfectly well aware of that,” replied the Supervisor, with a slight chuckle.
“And you don’t mind?”
“Not in the slightest—though I draw the line at atomic bombs, poison gas, or anything else that might strain our friendship.”
Stormgren wondered what, if anything, Karellen had guessed. Behind the Supervisor’s banter he had recognized the note of understanding, perhaps—who could tell?—even of encouragement.
“I’m glad to know it,” Stormgren replied in as level a voice as he could manage. He rose to his feet, bringing down the cover of his case as he did so. His thumb slid along the catch.
“I’ll draft that statement at once,” he repeated, “and send it up on the teletype later today.”
While he was speaking, he pressed the button—and knew that all his fears had been groundless. Karellen’s senses were no finer than Man’s. The Supervisor could have detected nothing, for there was no change in his voice as he said goodbye and spoke the familiar code words that opened the door of the chamber.
Yet Stormgren still felt like a shoplifter leaving a department store under the eyes of the house detective, and breathed a sigh of relief when the airlock doors had finally closed behind him.
V
“I admit,” said van Ryberg, “that some of my theories haven’t been very bright. But tell me what you think of this one.”
“Must I?”
Pieter didn’t seem to notice.
“It isn’t really my idea,” he said modestly. “I got it from a story of Chesterton’s. Suppose that the Overlords are hiding the fact that they’ve got nothing to hide?”
“That sounds a little complicated to me,” said Stormgren, beginning to take slight interest.
“What I mean is this,” van Ryberg continued eagerly. “I think that physically they’re human beings like us. They realize that we’ll tolerate being ruled by creatures we imagine to be—well, alien and super-intelligent. But the human race being what it is, it just won’t be bossed around by creatures of the same species.”
“Very ingenious, like all your theories,” said Stormgren. “I wish you’d give them Opus numbers so that I could keep up with them. The objections to this one—”