Buck Rogers 2 - That Man on Beta (12 page)

“For the moment,” he strode a few paces away from Buck, turned and stood facing the earthman seriously, “a little information at a time should suffice.

“I am Professor Von Norbert. This”—he made a sweeping gesture with his hands, that might indicate anything from the room where he stood to the entire planetoid—“is where I conduct my experiments. Come along with me, Captain Rogers, and I shall give you a little tour of the facilities.”

Why not, Buck thought. He might learn something useful, pick up some clue to the whereabouts of Wilma Deering or Dr. Theopolis. At worst, it would kill a little time. He had nothing better to do around here, so he might as well spend his time learning whatever he could learn.

The entire city of Villus Beta—its name was an amalgam of the names of the star that gave it light and the planetoid it stood on—was constructed in the form of a gigantic inverted wedge. It stood with its narrow edge pointed skyward, its broad base resting on the surface of the planetoid to provide a stable grounding for its massive weight.

One wall of the city stood against an even more massive natural formation, a cliff of the native rock of the planetoid Beta.

Emerging from the side and base of the inverted wedge closest to the wall of rock were great tunnels. A second bank of these crossed the city at a level halfway from its base to its apex; a thick, level surface had been laid lengthwise along the tops of the later cross-members. The ends of the wedge were open, so that a person standing on the surface of the planetoid Beta would be confronted with a titanic, overwhelming capital letter A.

And the crossbar of the letter A—the level surface that traversed the city from one end to the other—was a single, gigantic spaceport!

Buck stood in awe as Professor Von Norbert showed him the layout of the city.

After they had inspected the general geography of Villus Beta, Buck was permitted to inspect the series of cross-members connecting the base of the city with the wall of rock beside which it was constructed. Here he stood again in awestruck silence.

Here was the greatest accumulation of genetic data and genealogical records in the Draconian Empire—in the known universe! Professor Norbert showed Buck towering banks of computer modules and molecular storage banks where files and indexes of records were stored, where a single inquiry entered through a computer’s typewriterlike keyboard or even spoken into a specially activated microphone would send a series of electronic impulses cascading through bank after bank of storage units, file after file of historical records, until a complete history of whatever particular individual, family, or genetic grouping was desired, had been compiled.

At the delivery of another keyed instruction this history could be sorted, edited, sequenced, arranged in any manner desired, then printed out or spoken in an electronically synthesized voice.

In one section of the great computer installation, workers were putting the finishing touches on a new segment of files and processing equipment that had recently been delivered to Beta from Earth. Buck gasped when he saw the markings and insignia on the computers and the filing equipment.

“That’s the Mormon Temple records establishment!” he exclaimed.

“Correct,” Von Norbert agreed.

“How did it get here?”

“We Draconians are already the greatest genetic researchers in the galaxy. We’re just adding one more capability to our already established position of leadership,” Norbert explained happily.

“But”—Buck’s face darkened with outrage—“what right had you—who gave you permission to land on Earth and haul away property that doesn’t even belong to you?”

Von Norbert laughed. “Captain Rogers, I had thought better of you. You are concerned with such petty considerations as trivial legalisms. We are acting in the interests of science, Captain. Ours is a long and noble tradition, stretching back even to your own century, to the genetic experiments carried out in some of the central European locales in the 1940s.”

“But—Earth’s defense shield!”

Von Norbert shrugged.

Buck—a twentieth-century man—knew, more vividly than any of these twenty-fifth century persons, what those experiments had been in the 1940s. Buck struggled to regain his composure, to keep himself from lashing out with balled fists at this man whose very attitude was an affront to dignity and independence, whose activities in the name of science were an insult to every decent and ethical man and woman of science who had worked to add to the sum of human knowledge over the millennia of civilization’s painful rise.

When he felt he could speak calmly and contain his sense of outrage, Buck said, “What kind of experiments do you carry out here on Villus Beta, Doctor?”

They were sitting now in what amounted to a sidewalk cafe. Graceful shafts and curves of colored plexiglass filled with lighted gases provided a strange, almost surrealistic illumination.

“We are striving to combine our modern knowledge of genetics with our researches into genealogy, Captain Rogers. You can see how this will work to the benefit of humanity. We are searching the files of all conquered planets and peoples for those individuals, those families, whose genetic characteristics are most desirable in the race of mankind.

“We do not discriminate by planet of origin. Draconian or earthling, it matters not to us. By combining those positive characteristics, I will create a race of super-positively endowed individuals. This is a dream that mankind has had for thousands of years: the creation of super-man!”

“Sounds more like some stockman trying to breed a stronger strain of horses to me,” Buck commented.

“Ah, Captain Rogers, Captain Rogers, do not be so narrow-minded. I realize that your background is unique among all persons living today. You were raised in an age almost barbaric compared to our own. You must learn to adapt yourself to modern ideas.”

“Well, what are you shooting for?” Buck demanded.

“We are striving for nothing less than the perfect race. Think of it!” Von Norbert’s eyes glowed as he spoke. “To eliminate all genetically-transmitted diseases! To dispose of all who manifest intellectual inferiority! To build a race of the highest stamina, resistance to infection, muscular strength, intellectual acumen, artistic sensitivity, creativity . . .”

As Von Norbert’s voice trailed off into his little dream world, three absolutely breathtaking young women strolled past his and Buck’s table in the cafe. All of them, clearly, were familiar with Professor Von Norbert, and paused briefly to exchange hellos with him.

The professor was called back from his dream world by the presence of the young women, whose obviously ripe charms were more than revealed by the skimpy, diaphanous costumes that they affected in the Draconian fashion.

“Hildy,” Von Norbert identified the last of the three as the young women strolled on their way. “Well, Buck, what do you think of these results of my experimentation? Is my genetic engineering and selective breeding program such a terrible thing? Are those not specimens of beauty to delight the connoisseur?”

Buck managed to tear his eyes away from the three retreating beauties. “You’re out to create a master race, Professor Von Norbert.”

“Hmph. Not quite my choice of words, Captain. I am not a serious student of history. My time has been too filled with the study of science. But I believe that the term
master race,
in itself innocuous, carried certain negative political implications in your day.”

“It did, Professor,” Buck agreed ironically, “it certainly did.”

“But leaving aside the political aspect,” Von Norbert continued, “a master race is exactly what I
am
creating. Yes, you are entirely correct on that point.”

He rose from his seat at the cafe table and took Buck by the elbow, resuming his guided tour of the city.

Buck said, “A little more study of history might be useful for you, Prof. Yes, some people in my century did try something like that. It was a trifle before my personal time, but it was the twentieth century all right.

“Some of the stuff they said sounded okay. In fact, it could have been the same line you were putting out a few minutes ago. That stuff about eliminating physical inferiority and intellectual deficiencies and building a new race of people. It sounded okay, yeah.

“But what it led to was mass murder. Complete disregard for the rights of others. The worst examples of brutality and savagery known in the annals of a world where murder, brutality, and savagery were all too common. Torture, extermination camps, inhumanity on a scale you can hardly imagine.

“Or maybe you can.” He glared into the eyes of the other. “And maybe it just doesn’t bother you a bit.”

Von Norbert laughed aloud. “You’re a born reactionary, my boy. Of course I should expect that kind of response from you, your thought processes were formed five hundred years ago.”

“Yeah, I guess my thought processes
were
formed five hundred years ago. But then, so was the rest of me. For better or for worse, Professor, that’s the way I am—as we used to say way back in the 1980s, that’s where I’m coming from!”

“You find creating repugnant, Rogers,” the professor charged. “How can you do so, compared to the blowing up and the poisoning of Earth that were committed by your people—by your century? Now
that
is the kind of activity that I find repugnant, not an attempt to free mankind from the dead hand of inherited deficiencies.”

“God, we screwed things up in my day, I can’t deny that, Prof! I certainly can’t defend the wars and the poisoning of the world that we did. But at least we didn’t do it as a matter of policy. It was our weaknesses, our failings, our mistakes—not our goals! I wasn’t for war, believe me.” Buck lapsed into a half-audible tone, speaking more to himself than to Von Norbert. “I wasn’t even for Nixon. But then I never could find anybody who admitted that he was!”

“What are you talking about?” Von Norbert asked. He halted and faced Buck.

“I’m sorry,” Buck said. “Sort of daydreaming. Must not be as fully recovered from everything that’s happened to me as I thought I was. Maybe I’m suffering from something like jet lag, too.”

“Well, would you rather rest than continue?” Von Norbert asked.

Buck thought for a moment. If he had roused the professor’s sympathy he might be able to gain an advantage, a break that wouldn’t be available to him later on. “Back there at the research center,” Buck said.

“Yes?”

“I saw the Mormon records.”

“Yes, we discussed those, did we not?”

“We discussed your right to take them from Earth, not what use is going to be made of them. Are you just piling up all the data you can find—or do you have some particular use for them?”

“Oh,” Von Norbert said, “they are very valuable genealogical records. They are already being put to use, helping us to choose the specimens for our experiments.”

Buck was thunderstruck. “And Wilma’s a specimen?” he demanded.

“Wilma?” Von Norbert repeated. “You mean Colonel Deering? But no, Captain Rogers, not at all. Colonel Deering seems to be a well-developed young woman, but it is
you
who fascinate me as an experimental subject, my boy. You!”

Suddenly the whole bizarre sequence of events that had led Buck from the Inner City to Anarchia, to the gypsy camp, the dry flats of the Great Salt Lake, and then through space to Villus Beta, fell into place. Now it began to make sense at last!

“You are a most intriguing specimen,” Von Norbert confirmed. “That’s why we went to considerable inconvenience just to get you here to our facility.”

“Damn it!” Buck exploded. “The whole thing was set up. Pandro the gypsy. Aris the old hermit. How in hell did you get people like that onto your payroll? How did you buy them out?”

“We didn’t have to,” Von Norbert sneered. “They were on our side to start with. They are both actors whom we planted. Even the children in the old Hall of Records—”

“No!”

“But, yes!”

“How could you—?”

“The how of it is not my concern,” Von Norbert said. “My work is right here on Villus Beta, and is of a purely scientific nature. Outside operations, including the procurement of experimental specimens”—he reached and prodded Buck’s muscular torso with one appraising finger—“are left in the capable hands of persons better qualified to carry them out.

“I have the impression that this particular operation was planned and executed by Kane himself. Under the watchful guidance of the Princess Ardala, of course.”

He chuckled enigmatically.

T E N

They had continued to stroll, sporadically, throughout their entire long conversation. Now they arrived at a grand building fitted with ornate architectural furbelows strangely out of keeping with the functional plasticity of the rest of Villus Beta.

Von Norbert threw open a great filigreed door and ushered Buck into a monstrous hall dominated by a single piece of furniture, a huge carved throne whose style managed to combine in one a sense of the twenty-fifth century and of the tenth—a combination of the contemporary and of the archaic. It would have half-fit into any setting in the civilized universe—and half-fit any place in the
un
civilized universe!