The Rival Rigelians

Jerry Kennedy brought to the heavy table a small steam engine. He had half a dozen attachments for it. Within moments he had the others around him, as enthusiastic as a group of youngsters with a new toy.

“By the Supreme,” Baron Leonar blurted, “do you realize this device could be used instead of waterpower to operate a mill, to power the loom demonstrated half an hour ago?”

Honorable Russ was rubbing the side of his face thoughtfully. “It might even be adapted to move a coach. A coach without horses. Unbelievable!”

Mayer chuckled in pleased excitement and clapped his hands. A servant entered with a toy wagon which had been slightly altered. Martin Gunther lifted the small engine, placed it in position atop the wagon, connected it quickly and threw a lever. The wagon moved smoothly forward, the first car of Genoa’s industrial revolution.

Martin Gunther smiled widely at Russ. “You mean like this, Honorable?”

Half an hour later, they were reseated, before each of them a small pile of instructions, plans, blueprints.

Mayer said, “I have one more device to bring to your attention at this time. Perhaps I wish it were unnecessary but I am afraid otherwise.”

He held up for their inspection, a bullet. Jerry Kennedy handed around samples to the merchants. They fingered them in puzzlement.

“Honorables,” Mayer said. “The barons have the use of gunpowder. Muskets and muzzleloading cannon are available to them both for their wars against each other and their occasional attacks upon our supposedly independent chartered cities. However, this is an advancement on their weapons. This unit includes not only the lead of the bullet, but the powder and the cap which will explode it.”

They lacked understanding, and showed it.

Mayer said, “Jerry, if you’ll demonstrate.”

Jerry Kennedy said, “The bullet can be adapted to various weapons, however, this is one of the simplest.” He pressed, one after another, a full twenty rounds into his gun’s clip.

“Now if you’ll note the silhouette of a man I’ve drawn on the wooden frame at the end of the room.” He pressed the trigger, sending a single shot into the figure.

Olderman nodded. “An improvement in firearms. But—”

Kennedy said, “However, if you are confronted with more than one of the bad guys.” He grinned and flicked the gun over to full automatic and in a Gotterdammerung of sound in the confines of the room, emptied the clip into his target, sending splinters and chips flying and all but demolishing the wooden backdrop.

His audience sat back in stunned horror at the demonstration.

Mayer said, “The weapon is simple to construct. Any competent gunsmith can do it. It is manifest, Honorables, that with your people so armed your cities will be safe from attack and so will trading caravans and ships.”

Russ said shakily, “Your intention is good, Honorable Mayer, however it will be but a matter of time before the barons will have solved the secrets of your weapons. Such cannot be withheld forever. Then we would again be at their mercy.”

“Believe me, Honorable,” Mayer said dryly, “by that time I will have new weapons to introduce, if necessary. Weapons that make this one a very toy in comparison.”

Olderman resumed his office as spokesman. “This demonstration has astounded us, Honorable Mayer, but although we admire your abilities, it need hardly be pointed out that it seems unlikely all this could be the product of one brain.”

“They are not mine,” Mayer admitted. “They are the products of many minds.”

“But where—?”

The Earthman shook his head. “I don’t believe I will tell you now.”

“I see.” The Genoese eyed him emotionlessly. “Then the question becomes, why?”

Mayer said, carefully now, “It may be difficult for you to see, but the introduction of each of these will be a nail in feudalism’s coffin. Each will increase either production or trade and such increase will lead to the overthrow of feudal society.”

Baron Leonar, who had remained largely silent throughout the afternoon, now spoke up. “As you said earlier, although I am a titled lord myself, my interests are your own. I am a merchant first. However, I am not sure I want the changes these devices will bring. Frankly, Honorable Mayer, I am satisfied with my world as I find it today.”

There was at least one murmur of approval from the merchants who sat about the table.

Amschel Mayer smiled wryly at the other. “I am afraid you must adapt to these new developments.”

The baron said coldly, “Why? I do not like to be told I must do something. I am an important figure in the world as I know it. Radical change may upset this. If we loose these devices upon the world—Genoa, as you call it—who can say who will fall from the heights, and who will climb up from below? The status quo is aways the safest for those on top.”