For Every Man A Reason Part 1

For Every Man A Reason.

by Patrick Wilkins.

_To love your wife is good; to love your State is good, too. But if it comes to a question of survival, you have to love one better than the other. Also, better than yourself. It was simple for the enemy; they knew which one Aron was dedicated to...._

The thunder of the jets died away, the sound drifting wistfully off into the hills. The leaves that swirled in the air returned to the ground slowly, reluctantly.

The rocket had gone.

Aron Myers realized that he was looking at nothing. He noticed that his face was frozen into a meaningless smile. He let the smile slowly dissolve as he turned to look at his wife.

She was a small woman, and he realized for the first time how fragile she was. Her piquant face, framed by long brown, flowing hair, was an attractive jewel when set on the plush cushion of civilization. Now her face, set in G.o.d-forsaken wilderness, metamorphosed into the frightened mask of a small animal.

They were alone.

Two human beings alone on this wild, lonely planet. Aron's mind suddenly snapped from that frame of reference--his subjective view of their position--to the scale of galaxies. It was a big planet to them, but it was a marble in the galaxy that man had discovered and claimed, and was now fighting with himself to retain. This aggregate of millions of pebbles was wracked with the violence of war, where marbles were more expendable than the microbes that dwelt on them.

The two walked hand in hand away from the meadow where the ship had been. The feeble wind snuffled at the sc.r.a.ps of paper and trash, the relics of man's pa.s.sing.

They walked up the hill to their station, the reason for their being on this wayside planet.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Aron thought about the scenery around them. The compact, utilitarian building that was the station did not seem out of place against the bleak landscape. The landscape did not clash or conform to its location--it just didn't give a d.a.m.n whether there was a building there or not.

Aron and Martha, his wife, took their time. They had an abundance of that elusive quant.i.ty known as time at this lonely outpost. The trail up to the station was rough, with rocks and weeds tearing at them. Aron resolved that that would be one of his first projects, to put in a good path to the meadow where the rocket would come for them--five years from now.

The sunset did nothing to enhance the countryside. There was not enough dust in the air to create any striking colors. As the shadows began to lap at the hill, they hurried the last few steps to the building.

That evening they were both nervous, justifiably so, for not only were they starting on the questionable adventure of sequestered watchdogs on the planet, they were starting the adventure of marriage.

Aron had met Martha on Tyros, a planetary trade center of some importance. She was a waitress.

Since he was marking time on Tyros, waiting for his a.s.signment, he had a chance to cultivate her acquaintance. On their dates, what he had to tell her about his life was brief, impersonal.

Aron was in the Maintenance division of the Territorial Administration and his duties were to hold posts on various planets and act as an observer of that planet's caprices.

The rush of mankind from Earth, like a maddened swarm of bees from a hive, had carried it through the galaxy in a short time. On all the discovered planets that had to be reserved for future inhabitants, the Territorial Administration had set up observation stations. The men posted there were merely to record such fascinating information as meteorological and geographical conditions.

When the time came to expand, the frail little creatures with the large brains and larger egos would know the best havens for migration.

Another reason for these stations was the war. When man had flung himself madly at the galaxy, he had diffused himself thinly over a macroscopic area. Some almost isolated colonies had developed the inevitable thirst for independence.

From local but violent wars between colonies, some semblance of order had been wrought. Now there were two sprawling interstellar empires, the United Empire--Aron and Martha were citizens--and the People's Republic.

Since Aron's realm relied on industrial technology and agriculture and the People's Republic based its economy on mining and trade, there seemed to be plenty of room for consolidation.

Unfortunately this consolidation, or even peaceful trading, was not possible, due to the fact that the two dominions had entirely different forms of government and religion. The result was, as always, war.

These were the general facts that both Aron and Martha knew. What Aron discussed with his fiance were the effects of this macropolitical situation upon their personal lives. The previous posts that Aron had held in the TA were planets in the interior of the United Empire.

During his stay on Tyros, he received the a.s.signment he expected. It was a post on the fringe of the empire, a planet called Kligor. These stations of the fringe served dual purposes, not only their usual function of planetary observation but as military outposts to warn and halt any attempted invasion.

When he heard this a.s.signment, Aron proposed, holding up to Martha the prospect of comfortable living in civilization once the five year hitch on Kligor was over.

She consented--not really knowing if she loved him or not.

They had been married the day they left. The s.p.a.ce ship was so crowded there was no chance for privacy, so the two had no honeymoon till they reached the station.

Aron and his bride arrived on Kligor in what was autumn on the planet, for the seasons were consistent in all hemispheres.

Aron planned to spend a week at the station with his wife and then begin a planetary check of the various automatic observation stations that compiled the meteorological and other data and relayed it by radio to the main station. This check had to be completed before snow came to the planet.

In that week they learned about each other. Neither of them was young and both were mature and prosaic enough to develop the daily routine of a long-married couple. There were many free hours which they would spend talking about themselves.

To Martha, marriage was not new. She had experienced matrimony before.

Her husband, a gambler, had killed himself after a bad loss, leaving her with an impossible burden of debt and a disillusioned mind.

Since then she had worked, gradually paying off his debts. When Aron had come along, she liked the big man and thought that the years on Kligor would give her respite from a demanding reality.

She did not picture herself as a tragic figure, but rather as merely competent and stable, not realizing that that att.i.tude in itself is a sure sign of instability. A smile seldom found her face. She was slightly nervous with a tendency towards moodiness.

Aron's history was not so bitter. He was born in a large family and had formed an aloof, reserved nature to achieve a sense of individuality in the group. His life had been spent in government work and he had never tasted the variable brew of the nuptial cup till he met Martha.

He was not a deep man in emotion. His nature was such that he had to be constantly occupied with something--not the frenzied scurrying of insecure individuals--but a solid problem that he could work out. A project that he could carefully shape with a keen a.n.a.lytical mind or capable hands.

They did not think of each other in terms of these thumbnail sketches, but merely watched and observed--and adjusted to each other. Their marriage was almost one of convenience, with just enough affection involved to oil over any disputes.

The spell of the planet gradually lulled them into hypnotic acceptance of their sequestered lives. Their daily duties became the only things worth thinking about.

Aron learned about the planet in the next two months on his tours of inspection. He used a small atmosphere flier to cover the various posts scattered over its surface.

The small blockhouses were automatic and hermetically sealed to preserve the instruments, but something could go wrong and then it was his job to fix it.

As for the military defense system of Kligor, that was also automatic but not Aron's responsibility. It was a series of artificial satellites on the rim of the planetary system, with long-range detecting and tracting systems that would activate and co-ordinate firing mechanisms to blast any ship from the void.

It was Aron's duty to de-activate them with a control in his station if he was signalled by a pre-arranged code from a friendly United Republic ship. That was all he had to, or could, do with them.

The planetary stations were all in good shape except for minor repairs, which Aron attended to with the quiet joy of a man who loves machinery.

He was home sooner than expected and just in time. The next day it began to snow.