To Prime the Pump - A. Bertram Chandler [51]
"It is expedient for one man to die for the good of the people," quoted Grimes bitterly.
"Yes. And it would have been in an accident costing only one life, or, in the case of the crash-landing of your dynosoar, only two lives. There would have been no investigation."
"But why can't one of you prime the pump?" almost shouted Grimes. "You're always saying what a wonderful world you have here. Hasn't any one of you the guts to make a sacrifice for it? "
"Not that sacrifice. Mr. Grimes, I do not ask you for your sympathy, your pity, but I do ask for some measure of understanding. Only a man who has known great possessions knows how hard it is to give them up."
"And so you'd cheerfully slaughter an innocent outsider just so that you can enjoy a few more years in your sterile Eden."
"Not cheerfully, Mr. Grimes. Not cheerfully. And tell me, sir, have you ever slaughtered innocent outsiders?"
"No."
"Not yet, you should have said. As an officer of the armed forces of the Federation you will inevitably do so. You will, I said. Because, Mr. Grimes, you will live to take part in punitive expeditions, in raids upon commerce, in all the unsavory operations that are always fully justified by the historians of the winning side. We have reread the cards and the cups and the entrails, we have cast the bones. Your lifeline is a long one, but I shall not tell you the surprising turns that it will take.
"You have our word for it, Mr. Grimes. You are safe from us. Neither you nor anybody from your ship is destined to become the white goat, the goat without horns."
"You have our word," echoed the others solemnly.
He believed them. He almost said thank you, but why should he thank them for giving back to him what was not theirs to give, his life?
The Princess Marlene rose to her feet, and her guests followed suit. She said, "We are all tired, I suggest that we retire."
Robot servitors led the humans to their quarters. Grimes, entering his bedroom, saw something small and dull gleaming in the center of the coverlet of his bed. It was his Minetti automatic pistol, and beside it was the carton of spare ammunition.
And now that I shan't need it, he thought, they give it back to me.
Chapter 24
Nonetheless, he was not sorry to have the deadly little weapon back in his own possession. If there were to be any more hunting of large and dangerous animals, he would prefer to have something with which he was familiar to defend himself with. His successful use of that absurd spear against the wild boar had been nothing but luck, and he knew it.
He slept well, with the pistol under his pillow. Lobenga and the others had given their words that he was safe insofar as they were concerned, but what if they were not the only parties involved in the scheme to set the normal cycle of death and birth running on El Dorado? That gun of his own, loaded and ready to hand, gave him a sense of security that otherwise would have been lacking.
He was called in the morning in the usual manner. After he had freshened up, he found that clothing similar to that which he had worn for the boar hunt had been laid out on the remade bed. The Minetti slipped easily into the right-hand side pocket of the breeches. He practiced drawing. He