Conquest Over Time Read online

very steady pilot indeedto get the absolute most out of his generators without also spreadinghimself and his ship over several cubic miles of exploded space.

  "Like a striped-tailed ape," Dahlinger chortled. "Man, you should seethe boss handle a ship. I thought every second we were going toexplode in technicolor."

  "Well," Horton said feebly. "Burned generators. Shame."

  He lowered his eyes and began toeing the ground. Travis felt suddenlyill.

  "What's the matter, Hort?"

  Horton shrugged. "I hate like heck to be the one to tell you, Trav,but seein' as I know you, they sent me--"

  "Tell me what?" Now Dahlinger and Trippe both realized it and weresuddenly silent.

  "Well, if only you'd taken a little more time. But not you, not oldPat Travis. By damn, Pat, you came in here like a downhilllocomotive, it ain't my fault--"

  "Hort, straighten it out. What's not your fault?"

  Horton sighed.

  "Listen, it's a long story. I've got a buggy over here to take youinto town. They're puttin' you up at a hotel so you can look the placeover. I'll tell you on the way in."

  "The heck with that," Dahlinger said indignantly, "we want to see the_man_."

  "You're not goin' to see the man, sonny," Horton said patiently, "Youare, as a matter of fact, the last people on the planet the man wantsto see right now."

  Dahlinger started to say something but Travis shut him up. He toldTrippe to stay with the ship and took Dahlinger with him. At the endof the field was a carriage straight out of Seventeenth CenturyEngland. And the things that drew it--if you closed your eyes--lookedreasonably similar to horses. The three men climbed aboard. There wasno driver. Horton explained that the 'horses' would head straight forthe hotel.

  "Well all right," Travis said, "what's the story?"

  "Don't turn those baby browns on me," Horton said gloomily, "I wouldhave warned you if I could, but you know the law says we can't showfavoritism...."

  Travis decided the best thing to do was wait with as much patience aspossible. After a while Horton had apologized thoroughly andcompletely, although what had happened was certainly not his fault,and finally got on with the tale.

  "Now this here planet," he said cautiously, "is whacky in a lot ofways. First off they call it Mert. Mert. Fine name for a planet. Justplain Mert. And they live in houses strictly from Dickens, allcarriages, no sewers, narrow streets, stuff like that. With technologyroughly equivalent to seventeenth century. But now--see there, seethat building over there?"

  Travis followed his pointing finger through the trees. A large whitebuilding of blinding marble was coming slowly into view. Travis' eyeswidened.

  "You see? Just like the blinkin' Parthenon, or Acropolis, whichever itis. All columns and frescoes. In the middle of a town looks just likeLondon. Makes no sense, but there it is. And that's not all. Theirgovernment is Grecian too, complete with Senate and Citizens. Noslaves though. Well not exactly. You couldn't call them slaves. Orcould you? Heck of a question, that--" He paused to brood. Travisnudged him.

  "Yes. Well, all that is minor, next to the big thing. This is one oftwo major countries on the planet. There's a few hill tribes but thesemake up about 90 percent of the population, so you have to deal withthese. They never go to war, well maybe once in a while, but not veryoften. So no trouble there. The big trouble is one you'd never guess,not in a million years."

  He stared at Travis unhappily.

  "The whole planet's run on astrology."

  He waited for a reaction. Travis said nothing.

  "It ain't funny," Horton said. "When I say run on astrology I meanreally run. Wait'll you hear."

  "I'm not laughing," Travis said. "But is that all? In this businessyou learn to respect the native customs, so if all we have to do--"

  "I ain't finished yet," Horton said ominously, "you don't get thepoint. _Everything_ these people do is based on astrology. And thatmeans business too, lad, business too. Every event that happens onthis cockeyed world, from a picnic to a wedding to a company merger ora war, it's all based on astrology. They have it down so exact theyeven tell you when to sneeze. You ought to see the daily paper. Halfof it's solid astrological guidance. All the Senators not only haveastrologers, they _are_ astrologers. And get this: every man and womanand child alive on this planet was catalogued the day he was born. Hishoroscope was drawn up by the public astrologer--a highly honoredoffice--and his future laid out according to what the horoscope said.If his horoscope indicates a man of stature and responsibility, he_becomes_, by God, a man of stature and responsibility. You have tosee it to believe it. Kids with good horoscopes are sent to the bestschools, people fight to give them jobs. Well, take the courts, forexample. When they're trying a case, do they talk about evidence? Theydo not. They call in a legal astrologer--there's all kinds of branchesin the profession--and this joker all by himself determines the guiltor innocence of the accused. By checking the aspects. Take a wedding.Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Does boy go see girl? No. He headsstraight for an astrologer. The girl's horoscope is on file in thelocal city hall, just like everybody else. The astrologer compares thecharts and determines whether the marriage will be a good one. He is,naturally, a marital astrologer. He gives the word. If he says no theydon't marry.

  "I could go on for hours. But you really have to see it. Take the caseof people who want to have children. They want them born, naturally,at the time of the best possible aspects, so they consult anastrologer and he gives them a list of the best times for a baby to beconceived. These times are not always convenient, sometimes it's 4:18in the morning and sometimes it's 2:03 Monday afternoon. Yet this is alegitimate excuse for getting out of work. A man goes in, tells hisboss it's breeding time, and off he goes without a penny docked. Builda better race, they say. Of course the gestation period is variable,and they never do hit it right on the nose, and also there are stillthe natural accidents, so quite a few are born with terriblehoroscopes--"

  "Holy smoke!" Travis muttered. The possibilities of it blossomed inhis mind. He began to understand what was coming.

  "Now you begin to see?" Horton went on gloomily. "Look what anEarthman represents to these people. We are the unknown, thecompletely capital U Unknown. Everybody else is a certain definitequantity, his horoscope is on file and every man on Mert has access toall his potentialities, be they good, bad or indifferent. But not us.They don't know when we were born, or where, and even if they did itit wouldn't do them any good, because they haven't got any systemcovering Mars and Jupiter, the planets at home. Everybody else iscatalogued, but not us."

  "And just because they believe so thoroughly in their own astrologythey've gotten used to the idea that a man is what his horoscope sayshe is."

  "But us? What are we? They haven't the vaguest idea, and it scareshell out of them. The only thing they can do is check with one of thebranches, what they call Horary Astrology, and make a horoscope of theday we landed. Even if that tells them nothing about us in particularat least it tells them, or so they believe, all about our mission toMert. Because the moment our ship touched the ground was the birthdate of our business here."

  He paused and regarded Travis with woeful sympathy.

  "With us, luckily, it was all right. The Mapping Command just happenedto hit here on a good day. But you? Trav, old buddy, for once you camejust too damn fast--"

  "Oh my God," Travis breathed. "We landed on a bad day."

  "Bad?" Horton sighed. "Man, it's _terrible_."

  * * * * *

  "You see," Horton said as they drove into the town, "not a soul on thestreets. This is not only a bad day, this is one for the books.To-morrow, you see, there is an eclipse. And to these people there isnothing more frightening than an eclipse. During the entire weekpreceding one they won't do a darn thing. No business, no weddings, noanything. The height of it will be reached about tomorrow noon. Theirmoon--which is a tiny little thing not much bigger than our firstspace station--is called Felda. It is very import
ant in theirastrology. And for all practical purposes the eclipse is already inforce. I knew you were riding in down the base so I checked it out. Itnot only applies to you, other things cinch it."

  He pulled a coarse sheet of paper from his pocket and read from it ina wishful voice: "With Huck, planet of necessity, transiting the 12thhouse of endings and things hidden, squaring Bonken, planet of gain,in the ninth house of travellers and distant places, it isunquestionable that the visit of these--uh--persons bodes ill forMert. If further proof is needed, one