War with the Robots

"Slaves. They were constantly expanding, and you know that their style of warfare was expensive on manpower. They needed steady sources of supply and must have created them. This planet was one answer. Made to order in a way. A single, lightly forested continent, with few places for the people to hide when the slave ships came. They planted a nucleus, gave the people simple and sufficient sources of food, but absolutely no technology. Then they went away to let them breed. Every few years they would come back, take as many slaves as they needed, and leave the others to replenish the stock. Only they reckoned without one thing."

Arnild’s numbness was wearing off. He understood now.

"The adaptability of mankind," he said.

"Of course. The ability — given enough time-to adapt to almost any extreme of environment. This is a perfect example. A cut-off population with no history, no written language-just the desire to survive. Every few years unspeakable creatures drop out of the sky and steal their children. They try running away, but there is no place to run. They build boats, but there is no place to sail to. Nothing works…"

"Until one bright boy digs a hole, covers it up and hides his family in it. And finds out it works."

"The beginning," Commander Stane nodded. "The idea spreads, the tunnels get deeper and more elaborate when the Slavers try to dig them out. Until the slaves finally win."

This was probably the first planet to rebel successfully against the Greater Slavocracy. They couldn’t be dug out. Poison gas would just kill them and they had no value dead. Machines sent after them were trapped like our Eyes. And men who were foolish enough to go down…" He couldn’t finish the sentence, Dall’s body was stronger evidence than words could ever be.

"But the hatred?" Arnild asked. "The way the girl killed herself rather than be taken."

"The tunnels became a religion," Stane told him. "They had to be, to be kept in operation and repair during the long gap of years between visits by the Slavers. The children had to be taught that the demons come from the skies and salvation lies below. The opposite of the old Earth religions. Hatred and fear were implanted so everyone, no matter how young, would know what to do if a ship appeared. There must be entrances everywhere. Seconds after a ship is sighted the population can vanish underground. They knew we were Slavers since only demons come from the sky."

"Dall must have guessed part of this. Only he thought he could reason with them, explain that the Slavers were gone and that they didn’t have to hide any more. That good men come from the skies. But that’s heresy, and by itself would be enough to get him killed. If they ever bothered to listen."

They were gentle when they carried Dall the Younger back to his ship.

"It’ll be a job trying to convince these people of the truth." They paused for a moment to rest. "I still don’t understand though, why the Slavers wanted to blow the planet up.

"There too, we were looking for too complex a motive," Commander Stane said. "Why does a conquering army blow up buildings and destroy monuments when it is forced to retreat? Just frustration and anger, old human emotions. If I can’t have it, you can’t either. This planet must have annoyed the Slavers for years. A successful rebellion that they couldn’t put down. They kept trying to capture the rebels since they were incapable of admitting defeat at the hands of slaves. When they knew their war was lost, destruction of this planet was a happy vent for their emotions. I noticed you feeling the same way yourself when you saw Dall’s body. It’s a human reaction."

They were both old soldiers, so they didn’t show their emotions too much when they put Dall’s corpse into the special chamber and readied the ship for takeoff.

But they were old men as well, much older since they had come to this planet, and they moved now with old men’s stiffness.

There aren’t many really talented Inventors or perfectionists in the human population, but it doesn’t take many to keep things humming right along. The Wright brothers made the first powered flight in 1903, and less than forty-five years later airplanes were in production with a wingspan greater than the total distance of this first flight, not to mention the size of the plane. Homo sapiens is a born improver. Everything keeps getting bigger and bigger and better and better.

This applies to war too. Space wars only give an illusion of being bigger and better than other wars, no doubt due to the gigantic size of the field of action. But they can be frustrating because so few people can be involved and blown up at the same time. Sooner or later, in spite of all the forces of enlightenment, war will return to battered old Mother Earth. Different groups will find important things to differ about, and very logically, differences of opinion will be settled in the tried and true manner — by combat.