The Barbarians

by William Morrison

They were so far behind the times, these Hesperidian colonists, that it was a shame they had to be involved in Earth’s war. But the Martians wanted to use Hesperides, too, so the little world had to be a battleground. But there was a difference here…

IT WAS A beautiful world, this Hesperides, planet of Sol’s smaller brother sun, and under happier circumstances both Mal Ventner and his wife, Helen, would have enjoyed seeing it. They had landed on a vast rolling grassy plain from whose every direction the minor sun’s rays sparkled, as if from heaps of emeralds. The oxygen content of the atmosphere was a trifle higher than that to which they were accustomed, and this, together with the low gravity—the planet itself was only half the mass of the earth—combined to give them a feeling of exhilaration. But as Mal stood gazing beside the hundred-foot space ship which had brought him to Hesperides, a sudden feeling of numbness seized him. Fortunately, the sensation was only momentary; when it had passed, he plunged into the ship and shut the door.

His wife’s gaze fell on his face inquiringly. “An electrosonic ray swept over me,” he explained. “I think we had better stay inside here, where we’re safe.”

A needle of light leaped into existence at the top of the instrument panel, and then a second needle at the bottom. Helen powdered her nose calmly with a spray puff that she wore as a ring on her little finger, and observed, “We seem to be getting it from both sides. There’s no doubt that a war is going on.”

“Trust us to settle down cosily in No Man’s Land,” said Mal. The ship trembled slightly as a beam of energy smashed against it. He muttered, “I wonder which side is ours. It would be sad to find ourselves put out of commission by our own allies.”

The instrument panel was glowing steadily now as energized rays of all sorts swept over the ship and kept increasing in intensity. Helen remarked, “I thought you said we’d be safe in here.”

“Well, the weapons these people have are rather primitive, and our ship is armor-plated, but it hardly pays to take chances. I think we’d better dig in.”

He touched a stud, and the ship began to wallow from side to side, like an ancient sailing vessel in a heavy sea. The earth sank away beneath them, and soon the rays of energy ceased to affect the indicators. Helen said gloomily, “Now we can return to our role of innocent bystanders, and watch these people kill each other off. Why are wars necessary, anyway?”

“Our job,” Mal replied, “is not to worry about that, but to report what happens. We weren’t sent as special correspondents all the way from Earth simply to get excited about why people fight.” He was studying a screen on which was spread a panorama of the grassy plain above them. “There seems to be an attack developing.”

FAR OFF to one side of the screen, tiny figures had become visible. They advanced slowly, taking advantage of every minor hill and valley to seek shelter from the sweeping energy rays. Mal muttered. “It can’t be—no, of course not. I thought for a moment that they were men. But these people are not quite so primitive as all that; those are robots advancing.”

The robots were carrying heat-guns, and the atmosphere above the plain began to shimmer as the guns came into play, carving out paths of air of lower refractive index. Helen said, “What do you suppose is their objective?”

“Probably the enemy’s heavy ravartillery. But, Good Lord, they’ll never get anywhere that way.”

The robots had begun to fall. They would suddenly move with erratic steps, come to a full stop, and then collapse altogether, a tangle of molten and twisted metal. But those that remained unhit continued to advance.

The air on the other side of the plain became gradually hazy, tinged with a faint pink, and began to move slowly to meet the advancing robots. The paths of the energy-beams, when they hit this cloud, became confused, and were quickly lost from sight. But the robots, those that survived the raying they had received, trudged forward unfalteringly. It was not until the edge of the cloud reached them that they showed signs of hesitation. But by this time it was too late. The pinkish gas enveloped them, and they began to creak, and then to drop. Only a scant dozen out of several thousand managed to reverse their direction in sufficient time to escape, and reach their own lines.

Mal stared at Helen. “They won’t believe us back on Earth when we report this. A corrosive cloud, electrically directed. How many years ago was that supposed to have gone out of use?”

“About a hundred thousand.”

“A hundred thousand. And these people still seem to regard it as the last word in modern weapons.”

“They’ve been out of contact with Earth all that time,” Helen pointed out. “It’s only in the last few months that we’ve managed to get in touch with them once more. They’ve had no opportunity to learn of what has gone on since they left.”

She and Mal thought back to the time when Hesperides had first come into human ken. There had been the sudden flaring up of a Nova on the rim of the Solar System itself, at a distance equal to several times the major axis of Pluto’s orbit. After the first period of extraordinary brightness, the Nova had partially subsided, and become apparently stabilized as a star of the minus first magnitude.

Further observation had shown that it was responsive to the Sun’s gravitational pull, and eventually its orbit had been definitely determined as an extremely eccentric ellipse. At the moment of discovery, it was a trifle more than the minimum distance from the Sun, the focus of the ellipse.

An exploratory scientific expedition had discovered that about this Sol Novus, itself a planet in relation to the Sun, revolved a lifeless Satellite, Hesperides, that seemed to offer remarkable opportunities for human colonization. There was a suitable atmosphere, low gravity, and an average temperature that compared very favorably with that of Earth’s temperate zones, for Sol Novus, not as bright as the major Sun, was only fifty million miles away from Hesperides. In addition, the planet’s axis of rotation was so inclined to the plane of its own ellipse about Sol Novus that extremes of climate were no greater than on Earth.

COLONIES had immediately been sent out. But Earth had not been alone in its discovery that Hesperides offered a suitable abode for life. Mars. too, had reached the same conclusion, and Martian colonies were established within a few months after those of Earth. As at that time there was peace between the two planets, the new inhabitants of Hesperides had lived on terms of good will with each other.

These early settlers had been furnished not only with complete sets of mechanical equipment, but with an assortment of flora and fauna that were considered specially desirable for the new planet. Even the varieties of microscopic life—the bacteria, the yeasts, the molds, the protozoa—all had been chosen carefully. And from the reports that reached the home planets of Earth and Mars, the resultant existence on Hesperides had been like living in a paradise.

After only a thousand years, however, Sol Novus, together with Hesperides, swung so far out away from the Sun, that connections with Earth and Mars became difficult, and were finally lost. For another thousand centuries its civilization developed out of contact with the parent planets. And now, when it was once more close enough for communication with the inner members of the Solar System, it was to find a universe at war.

For ten years now, Earth and Mars had been pecking away at each other at long range. The direct physical damage had been slight, but communications with other planets had been cut, and both Earth and Mars had been left in an unpleasant state of isolation. The one place where the two opposing powers could attack each other from convenient bases had been on Hesperides. When that planet had come close enough to be informed of what was going on, both the Martian and the Earth colonies had been commanded to enter the conflict.

It was to report on how the Terrestrial colony was obeying orders that Mal and his wife had been sent here, So far, everything they had seen had indicated that the weapons on both sides were so primitive that Earth had little either to hope or to fear from whatever happened on Hesperides.

Mal swept the battlefield with a scanning ray until he located a fallen robot. He brought the robot into focus on a small screen, and then there became slowly visible something they had not previously been able to see. On the metallic breast and forehead were stamped green circles, filled in with green and bluish areas. Mal cried excitedly, “The Earth’s insignia! They’re our own! Helen, we were the ones who lost that attack!”

“We may be down, but we’re never out,” she returned. “Here we come again.”

One glance at the larger screen was enough to show that the Earth’s robots were returning to the attack. There seemed to be just as many of them this time as before, so that it was evident that there was no lack of replacements, but the advance seemed a trifle slower and more cautious. It was several seconds before Mal noticed that about each robot there was an extremely faint aura of yellow light.

Evidently, the Martians, having had such great luck with their corrosive cloud on the first occasion. counted on using the same weapon again with equal success. The pink haze swept down on the robots and enveloped them so that they were almost lost from sight. But the robots did not fall. The aura of yellow light dissipated the corrosive substance, and the robots continued their advance. The cloud drove onward, and was slowly lost in the distance.

Now the rays of the energy-beams swept the battlefield once more, to be met by answering rays from the Martians. An occasional robot fell, without affecting the rest of his comrades in the least. After a time, the answering rays from the Martian side became fewer in number, and more feeble in intensity. Either the Martians were retreating, or some of their guns had been put out of commission.

WHEN the robots stopped advancing, and settled down on what appeared to be a fixed position. Mal said, “There isn’t going to be a great deal more action here. Perhaps we’d better get moving.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Helen, and unexpectedly, they did move. The ship jerked suddenly to one side, and then began to slither slowly backward. Before Mal could collect his wits, a series of unpleasant shocks ran through the ship.

Helen laughed until the tears ran down her face. “We’re being attacked by a Martian burrowing tank. How incredibly old-fashioned! To think that these people still go in for underground warfare!”

“Laugh if you please, but those explosions aren’t very pleasant,” grumbled Mal. “Shall we put the fellow out of his misery?”

“No, let’s not take sides in the fighting. We’re supposed to be observers only. Let’s get up in the air, where we can get an idea of everything that’s going on.”

As the ship lifted out of the ground, Mal could see the robots lift their heads and stare after it. The first movement of their heat-guns came to a quick stop as they caught sight of the green and blue Earth insignia on its sides. Then the ship was up out of their range, and they returned to their task of digging in and setting up detector instruments that would inform them of the first signs of any counter-attack.

On the ground, the Martians appeared to be satisfied to maintain their present positions. But in the air, they were launching an attack in full force. Helen was the first to catch sight of their distant rocket-ships, blasting ahead slowly at what seemed to be no more than five hundred miles an hour.

“Bombers,” she said. “With only a few fighting planes. “And Mal—that face—”

Mal had centered his telescope screen on a single plane. In the driver’s seat was a powerful squat figure. The figure’s face was red and horribly ugly, with two enormous eyes, a huge slit of a mouth, and a square, unpleasant determined jaw.

Helen whispered, “I don’t think Martians are good-looking even at their best. But evolution on Hesperides has certainly done nothing to make them more beautiful.” She shuddered. “He can’t harm us, but all the same, he frightens me.”

It required several seconds for them to realize that the plane was heading straight for them. The driver had caught sight of their Earth insignia, and they could see the contortions of his face as his guns began spitting rays and chemicals at the ship. He seemed to be puzzled at seeing them sail along unhurt, for he swooped under them, and then came back to renew his attack. Helen asked, “Do you think that perhaps we could give him a dose of his own medicine—”

Mal shook his head. “He doesn’t seem able to hurt us. Let’s wait. I’m curious to see what he’ll do.”

The driver’s enormous eyes glowed as his guns emptied without doing them the slightest damage. Suddenly, he changed his tactics. Instead of circling to avoid a collision, he dived straight at them. He hit them full speed, almost turning them over before they could right themselves, and then the remains of his plane plummeted to the ground.

“He had courage, that boy,” said Mal admiringly. “He figured that ours was a more deadly fighting machine than his own, and he was willing to destroy himself if he could get us in the process.”

“A barbarous sort of courage,” replied Helen.

They were being attacked again. A formation of five planes was making straight for them, and the shock of five explosive waves beating simultaneously on their ship sent them both staggering. Mal said glumly, “Those fellows are beginning to be annoying. “I’m tempted to take your advice about giving them a dose of their own medicine.”

A SQUADRON of defense planes was approaching rapidly. The Martian attackers gave up the space ship as a bad job, and turned to defend their own bombers. In a moment, the sky was full of dogfighting groups, spitting and barking viciously at each other. The defensive armor, both Mal and Helen noticed, seemed to be greatly inferior to the weapons of offense. The fights lasted no more than a few seconds each before one or more planes broke away and dived for the ground. And wherever possible, a defeated pilot crashed into his victorious opponent, attempting to take his enemy down with him.

“Our men are just as brave as theirs,” pointed out Mal. “And just as barbarous. I’m afraid you’ve no grounds for feeling superior. Helen.”

The Martian bombers, their loads of chemicals and explosives emptied on Earth’s territory, had turned and were making for home, their fighting planes attempting to shield them in a desperate rear-guard struggle. Helen sighed, “Well, that’s about over. Don’t you think, Mal, that it’s about time we made for Earth headquarters, and got in contact with our own leaders?”

Mal nodded, and turned the ship in the opposite direction from that in which the bombers and their escorts were travelling. Several Earth planes approached them and hovered about suspiciously for a few seconds before noticing their blue-green insignia and leaving them alone. Then the noise of the fighting died away behind them, and they sailed on peacefully, the humming of their own motors the only thing to reach their ears.

It was growing dark now as Sol Novus set beneath the eastern horizon. Twenty miles ahead of them, and almost four miles below, they could see the lights of an Earth city beginning to appear in the dusk. In the sky, the major sun was just becoming visible as the faintest of stars, and the familiar constellations that they had last seen from Earth’s southern hemisphere began to spring dimly into view, their shape unaltered.

They watched the city becoming larger before them. The buildings were neither exceptionally large nor particularly beautiful, and once again Mal and Helen were conscious of a feeling of disappointment at the low level which civilization on Hesperides seemed to have attained. Isolation from Earth and Mars had apparently not done the colonists any good.

Mal looked questioningly at his wife. “Shall we descend here, or go further on into our own territory?”

“I’m in favor of going on and looking for something better. This hardly resembles a capital city, and we might get tied up in a lot of red tape with some minor officials.”

Mal nodded. “The building in the center seems—”

And then there was no building in the center of the town.

The walls and the roof separated from each other with an apparent gentleness that was startling, and disappeared in a blaze of light. All over the city the squat ugly buildings were disappearing in the same manner. Helen stared at her startled husband, and heard him mutter, “The explosion wave won’t do us any good. We’d better get away.” He pulled a lever, and the ship rocketed up with a speed that left the destroyed city in a few seconds more than thirty miles beneath them. Then he came to a stop, and almost three minutes later, the first noise of the explosions reached them, faint and dimly menacing, like the growl of a beast whose victims had escaped him.

Before the noise of the last explosion had died away, the city was in darkness once more, a darkness that this time was complete, with no winking points of light to break its sway. They swung down slowly to investigate what had happened. Mal said, “If there had been an air fleet dropping bombs from high altitudes, our instruments would have registered. And besides, the accuracy of aim would appear to rule that out. I suppose the Martians used their tunneling tanks to mine the city.”

WITHOUT saying anything in return, Helen trembled. A light from their ship swept over the devastated city and revealed complete death. There was not the slightest indication of a living human being, of the smallest animal, of a moving robot. Everything that was combustible seemed to have gone in the first explosion, so that nowhere was there a sign of even an inanimate flame. It was as if the city had been in ruins for ages.

Helen said in a low voice, “Even on Earth at its worst, there’s never been anything like this. These people don’t appear to be able to build very well, but they can certainly kill and destroy. Perhaps it’s fortunate that they have no better weapons than we’ve seen them use.”

Mal commented, “They kill at our orders. Don’t forget that this is our war, not theirs. Shall we look for another city?”

Helen nodded, and their ship rose again and drove on. Now there came to them the sight of a cluster of lights much greater in extent than the one that had been destroyed. They were pleased to see that the architecture of this town was of a superior order. The buildings were larger, more graceful, of more beautiful material. And the city itself was more alive. Their instruments detected a steady hum that rose from it, the hum of innumerable human voices blended into one low sound.

A search beam picked them out of the sky as they approached, the light dancing meaningfully for a few seconds on their Earth insignia. Then it was shut off, and a glowing tube on the instrument panel indicated a radio beam. Mal tuned in and a man’s voice spoke to them in Earth’s language, in words that had remained unchanged for a thousand centuries, but with the faintest indication of a foreign accent.

“Calling Earth ship.”

“Earth ship replying. We are special representatives sent to secure information on progress of war. You have been informed of our coming. We want to meet Earth Colony’s president.”

A girl’s voice said, “One moment, please. We are making connections to the president.”

It was only a few seconds later that the president spoke to them. “Will you please radio your images, and the images of your credentials.”

Mal turned on the television sender, and there was a moment’s pause while the president scanned their credentials. Then he said, “You will find a landing field to the north of the city. An official delegation will meet you there. Welcome to Hesperides, Mr. and Mrs. Ventner.”

Mal turned off the television sender, and grinned at the old-fashioned courtesy. The landing field turned out to be five times as large as was needed, and he noticed the admiring glances from the official delegation as they watched what seemed to them a skillful landing. Evidently, they were accustomed to the automatic landing devices that every Earth ship now possessed.

THE PRESIDENT was a tall man, with a very grave expression, and a very ugly face that Helen found charming. Except for his clothes, which had undergone countless years of development different from those of Earth, and consequently appeared to be several months out of date, he could have passed for an inhabitant of Earth itself. Whatever changes evolution on Hesperides had caused in the Martians, it had not done any harm to the descendants of Earthmen.

Mal asked anxiously, ,“Will our ship be safe here? Just an hour or so ago, we saw a Martian attack—”

The president smiled. “The ship will be perfectly safe. We are hardly in the same position here as we were in New Carthage.”

The official delegation was presented to them. The gallant manners of the men pleased Helen more than she was willing to admit, but later she did whisper to Mal, “If these people here are barbarians, at least they’re charming ones.”

He smiled back at her vaguely. He was listening to the president’s daughter describing the latest play, and Helen could see that he was at least as much interested in looking at the girl as in understanding what she was saying. Even when these Earth colonists were ugly, thought Helen, as was the president, they remained paradoxically handsome. And when their features were regular, as were those of his daughter—If she hadn’t known Mal so well she would have been jealous.

Before discussing the business that had brought them there on such a long journey, they were to be shown the city. Mal and Helen watched intently as the president guided them through the public squares, pointed out the film libraries, described the places of amusement. Everything they saw seemed to be in perfect taste, conceived with as excellent judgment as anything on Earth itself, and carried out without a flaw. The ugliness of that destroyed city or New Carthage began to be a mystery.

When they had finally beheld all the more important features of the city, it was too late to discuss the war. They were shown to an apartment of their own, with robot servants to care for their every need. Helen said thoughtfully, “They’re barbarians, of course. They’re much behind us in science, and they’re absolutely ferocious in battle. But not all their attention has gone to learning how to destroy. They’re charming!”

“That’s the sort of thing that would impress a woman.”

“And the girls are beautiful. But I don’t suppose that sort of thing would impress a man.”

“I think,” said Mal absently, “that it’s about time to go to sleep.”

In the morning, they breakfasted with the president, without once touching on the subject that had brought them to Hesperides. It was not until the breakfast dishes had been removed and dissolved in a current of superheated steam that their discussion became serious. The president said, “I must confess that although we are more than holding our own, we can not exactly claim to be winning the war.”

Mal asked, “How do your forces compare with those of the enemy?”

“We have a population of some two hundred and twenty millions against his two hundred forty-five. On the other hand, our industry is somewhat better organized, and our robots are of slightly superior design. The net result is that we are about even.”

HELEN SAID, “I am interested, MI Mr. President, in knowing what the relative losses have been.”

“Ah, the losses: They have been exceptionally high on both sides, slightly higher on the side of the enemy, though, I am happy to say. We have had only five cities destroyed as against his seven. We have practically ruined his aircraft and robot industries. It is true that we have only about ten per cent of our own industries left,” he added with a smile. “As for losses in instruments of war, I don’t have the figures at hand but I can secure them for you very easily. I do remember that we have lost more than fifteen million robots of one kind or another as against the enemy’s sixteen. Over eighty per cent of ours were of the cheap Type C. But almost forty per cent of his were of more expensive types.”

“I’m not referring to losses in material, Mr. President,” explained Helen patiently. “I’m curious to know what your losses are in terms of human beings.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” “How many men, women, and children have been killed?”

The president lifted his eyebrows. “Why, none, of course.”

Mal interrupted. “We’re not joking, Mr. President. We’d like to know what you casualties are.”

The president stared at them. “Good Lord, do you mean to tell me that in your wars, people actually get killed?”

“I thought,” replied Helen weakly, “that was one of the purposes of a war.”

“Not at all. A war is fought to determine which of two groups is the stronger. Modern science being what it is, strength is determined mainly by the reserves of men and materials. We test our men by their ability to produce materials, and we test the materials by their behavior in actual fighting. As we have robots to operate our weapons for us, there is no need whatever to kill human beings. We fight until one side is clearly on the point of exhausting its materials, and victory appears certain for the other. We then arrange peace.”

“And there are never any casualties?”

“It’s bad enough to waste so many million dollars’ worth of robots and valuable machines. It would be inexcusable to waste human lives.”

Mal said, “We saw a city destroyed.”

“New Carthage. A city without life. All the cities in the battle zone are operated purely by robots for the manufacture of war materials. Their destruction never harms any one.”

Helen objected, “But you have human aviators.”

The president smiled. “You must have seen the Martian robot flyers. They were designed by a man with a sense of humor, and at a distance seem fairly human. But they are completely inanimate affairs.”

THERE was an embarrassed silence. Neither Mal nor Helen could meet the president’s eye. Mal said finally, “I need hardly tell you, Mr. President, how pleased we are that you have suffered no casualties. But I feel that our generals back home will hardly be satisfied. They will be under the impression that you are not putting forth your best efforts.”

The president returned heatedly, “This war has already dislocated our entire economic life. If you feel—”

Mal shook his head. “You misunderstand me, Mr. President. What I have given you is not my personal opinion, but the opinion my superiors will undoubtedly express. I am afraid you will have a difficult time convincing them they are wrong.”

The president demanded, “Am I to have my people slaughtered merely to satisfy them that I am in earnest?”

Helen started. “What an excellent idea!”

They turned to look at her. She went, on rapidly, “Why not lay out special cemeteries? You can have several million tombstones inscribed with the names of both Earth men and Martians. Of course, there need be no bodies under the tombstones, but our superiors will never know that. The tombstones alone will be enough to satisfy them.”

Both men burst out laughing. Helen flushed. “If you don’t think the idea is a good one, I’d like to hear of something better!”

The president said soothingly, “It’s an excellent idea. Only—” Then he looked at Mal again, and they burst once more into laughter. This time Helen joined them.

They left Hesperides a week later. The Martians had been informed of the necessity of constructing cemeteries, and a short truce had been declared for the purpose. As Mal and Helen took off from the airport at which they had landed, they looked back longingly. The beautiful city was shrinking away below them, and far off, the green fields that covered so large a portion of the planet were becoming visible again. The scene was so breath-taking in its beauty, that for a long moment they remained silent, looking down. Helen murmured, “What charming people!”

“Yes, but a war in which no one is killed—” Mal smiled. “What barbarians!”

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