The Star Watchers by Eric Frank Russell

Book Details

The Star Watchers – Superior intelligences from elsewhere in space have been watching mankind’s development, especially since humans have developed extrasensory powers as a result of exposure to cosmic radiations in the settlement of the inner planets of the Solar System.

The Star Watchers (1951) Posted on every life-bearing planet are these selfless guardians—amiable, but ruthless in striking down any who threaten mans long agonizing climb to the stars! A 28 chapter novel of humanity divided between those with extra powers and those who are normal.

Humanity has settled the inner planets of the Solar System but the citizens of Venus and Mars are seeking independence from Earth. This may prove a problem as there others out in the universe that would destroy this fledgling spacefaring society before it could leave the Solar System.

Eric Frank Russell (1905-1978) was a British author who wrote science fiction and horror for the American pulp magazines.

The Star Watchers was first published in Startling Stories in the November, 1951 issue. It was the cover story.

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1. EFRussell-TheStarWatchers.epub

Excerpt: The Star Watchers

I

SOLEMN and grave the World Council sat as he walked toward them. They numbered twelve, all sharp-eyed, gray or white of hair, their faces lined with many years and much experience. Silently, with thin lips, firmed mouths, they watched him come on. The thick carpet kept saying hush-hush as his feet swept over it. The silence, the watching eyes, the whispering of the carpet, the leaden weight of deep, unspoken anxieties—all showed that this was a moment distinct from other minutes which are not moments.

Reaching the great horseshoe table at which the others were seated, he halted, looked them over, starting with the untidy man on the extreme left and going slowly, deliberately around to the plump one on the far right. It was a peculiarly penetrating examination which served only to enhance their manifest uneasiness. One or two fidgeted like men who feel some of their certitude beginning to evaporate. Each seemed secretly relieved when the gaze passed on to his immediate neighbor.

In the end, his attention went back to the lion-maned Oswald Heraty who presided at the table’s center. The pupils of his eyes shone and the irises were flecked with silver as he looked at Heraty and spoke in slow, measured, unhurried tones.

He said, “Captain David Raven, at your service, sir.”

Leaning back in his chair, Heraty sighed, fixed his worried stare upon the immense crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling. It was difficult to tell whether he was marshaling his thoughts, or carefully avoiding the other’s eyes, or finding it necessary to do the latter in order to achieve the former. Other members of the Council now had their heads turned toward Heraty, partly to give attention to what he was about to say, partly because to look at Heraty was not to look at Raven. They had all watched Raven’s entrance but none wanted to study him close up. None wanted to study him; none wanted to be studied by him.

Still frowning at the chandelier, Heraty spoke in the manner of one shouldering an unwanted but immovable burden. “We are at war.”

The table waited. There was only silence.

HERATY went on, “I address you vocally because I have no alternative. Kindly respond in the same manner.”

“Yes, sir,” was Raven’s totally inadequate response.

“We are at war,” Heraty repeated. “Does that not surprise you?”

“No, sir.”

“It ought to,” put in a Council member on Heraty’s right. He was a little aggrieved by Raven’s lack of reaction. “We have been at war for about eighteen months and have only just discovered the fact.”

“Kindly leave this to me,” suggested Heraty silencing the speaker with an impatient wave of one hand. For an instant—only an instant—he met Raven’s eyes as he asked, “Have you known or suspected that we were actually at war?”

“No, sir.”

“Surely you should have done?”

“I have not bothered to estimate the probable time factor. That we would be involved in war, some time or other, was obvious from the start.”

“From what start?” inquired the fat man on the right.

“From the moment we crossed space and settled another planet,” Raven told him. He was disconcertingly imperturbable about it. “War then became inherent in the newly-created circumstances.”

“Meaning we blundered?”

“Not at all. Progress demands payment. War is the price. Sooner or later the bill is presented.”

Heraty took over again. “Never mind the past. We, as individuals, had no control over that. It’s our task to cope with the present and the immediate future.” He rubbed his chin, said to Raven, “Venus and Mars are attacking us. Officially, we can do a fat lot about it. It’s a war that isn’t a war.”

“A difference of opinion?” Raven asked, betraying the shadow of a smile.

“It began with that. Now it has gone a whole lot further. They’ve turned from words to deeds. Without any formal declaration of war—indeed, with every outward appearance of friendship and blood-brotherhood—they are implementing their policies in a military manner. They’ve been at it for something like eighteen months, and we’ve only just discovered that we’re being hit. That sort of thing can go on too long.”

“All wars go on too long,” Raven observed.”

“They viewed this as a profound thought. There was a faint murmur of agreement and much nodding of heads. Two of them went so far as to glance straight at him, though as briefly as possible.

“The worst of it is,” continued Heraty morbidly, “that they’ve got us in a fix of our own devising and, officially at any rate, there’s no way out. What’s the answer to that?” He did not wait for suggestions. He provided an answer himself. “We must take action which is unofficial.”

“Me being the goat?” inquired Raven.

“You being the goat,” Heraty confirmed.

For a moment the silence was heavy while Raven stood waiting politely and the Council occupied itself with various thoughts. There was plenty of food for thought. There had been wars before, in the far past, the very far past; some slow and tortuous, some swift and bloody. But they had all been Earth-wars. A conflict between worlds was something different and posed new problems to which bygone lessons did not apply. Moreover, a new-style war, conducted with new weapons, employing new techniques, likewise posed fresh problems not solvable on the basis of past experience. There was nothing to go by other than the hard facts of today.

After a while, Heraty said, “Venus and Mars have long been settled by homo sapiens, our own kind, our own blood. They are our children but no longer see it that way. They think they’re grown up. They’ve been agitating for self-government for the last couple of centuries. They’ve been demanding the key of the house while they’re still damp from their christening. We’ve refused their heart’s desire. We’ve told them to wait, be patient. See where it puts us!”

“Where?” invited Raven, smiling.

“Squarely on the horns of a dilemma, and both of them uncomfortably sharp.” Heraty shifted in his seat as though his southern aspect was peculiarly susceptible to suggestion. “Without self-government the Venusians and Martians remain Terrestrials, officially and legally, sharing this world with us, enjoying all our rights as common citizens. That means they can come here as often and for as long as they please, in any numbers.” He bent forward, slapped ireful hands on the table. “They can walk right in, through the ever-open door, while crammed to the top hairs with arson, sabotage and every form of malicious intent, and we can’t keep ’em out. We can’t refuse entry unless we first make them precisely what they want to be, namely, aliens. We won’t make aliens of them.”

“Too bad,” sympathized Raven. “There are good reasons?”

“Of course. Dozens of them, including some known only to a select few.” Heraty hesitated, went on, “One such is that we are on the verge of getting to the Outer Planets. That’s a jump, a heck of a big jump. To back it up to the limit, settle ourselves there in strength and get properly established, we’ll need all the resources of three worlds without any short-view quibbling between them.”

“I can well imagine that,” Raven agreed, thinking of Venusian fuel-deposits and of Mars’ strategic position.

LOWERING his voice to lend significance to his words, Heraty continued: “In due time there’ll be another jump. It will take us to Alpha Centauri —and there is some good though unpublished evidence to suppose it may bring us head-on against another intelligent life form. If that does occur we’ll have to hang together lest we hang separately. There will be no room for Terrestrials, Venusians, Martians, Jovians and other planetary tribes. We’ll all be Solarians, sink or swim. That’s how it’s got to be whether nationalist-minded specimens like it or not.”

“…Progress demands payment. War is the price. Sooner or later the bill is presented.”

“So you’re faced by another dilemma,” remarked Raven. “Peace might be assured by publishing the warning facts behind your policy—and thereby creating general alarm plus opposition to further expansion.”

“Precisely!” Heraty agreed. “You’ve put it in a nutshell. There’s a conflict of interests which is going too far.”

“Hm! A pretty setup. As sweet a mutual animosity as could be contrived. I like it. It smacks of an enticing chess problem.”

“That’s Carson’s parallel,” remarked Heraty. “He called it super-chess for reasons you’ve yet to learn. He said it’s time we stuck a new piece on the board. You’d better go see him and get informed. Carson’s the man who raked the world for someone like you.”

“Me?” David Raven registered mild surprise. “Are there no others like me?”

“That I wouldn’t know.” Heraty showed himself far from anxious to discuss the subject. “Such matters are left entirely to Carson, and he has his own secrets. You’d better go see him right away.”

“Very well, sir. Is there anything else?”

“Only this: you were brought here to let you see that the World Council is behind you, even though unofficially. Your job is to stop this war—if you can. You’ll have no badge, no documents, nothing to show that you have any special status. All you’ll have will be your own abilities and our moral support. No more!”

“It may be enough.”

“Possibly,” admitted Heraty. “I’m in a poor position to judge. Carson’s more capable in that respect. For what little it’s worth, my own opinion is that before long your life won’t be worth a minute’s purchase—and I sincerely hope I’m wrong.”

“Me, too,” said Raven, blank-faced. The Council fidgeted again, suspecting him of secret amusement at their expense. The deep silence came back, and their formerly evasive eyes were on him as he walked away with the same slow, deliberate, confident gait with which he had entered. Only the carpet whispered and when he went out the big door closed quietly, without a click.

“War,” remarked Heraty, “is a two-way game.”

Excerpt From: Eric Frank Russell. “The Star Watchers.”