The Rival Rigelians

Plekhanov said, “Similarities to the Egyptians and Sumerians, and the Indus valley culture of Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa—what Lewis Morgan would have called the latter stage of barbarism.” He looked over his beefy shoulder at the technician who was photographing the areas over which they passed. “How does our geographer progress, Roberts?”

Natt Roberts brought his eyes up from his camera viewer. “I’ve got most of what we’ll need for awhile, sir.”

Isobel Sanchez said, “It’s a beautiful world, Leonid.”

Plekhanov ignored her use of his first name and turned back to Chessman. “We might as well head for their principle city, the one with the pyramids. We’ll make initial contact there. I like the suggestion of surplus labor available.”

“Surplus labor?” Chessman said, setting the controls. “How do you know?”

“Pyramids,” Plekhanov rumbled. “I’ve always been of the opinion that such projects as pyramids, whether they be in Yucatan or Egypt, are make-work affairs. A priesthood, or other evolving ruling clique, keeping its people busy and out of mischief.”

Chessman adjusted a speed lever and settled back. “I can see their point, keep the yokes busy and they don’t have time to wonder why they, who do all the hard work, don’t have the living standard of their betters.”

“But I don’t agree with it,” Plekhanov said ponderously. “A society that builds pyramids is a static one. Both the Mayans and Egyptians are classic examples; for centuries, neither changed its basic culture. For that matter, any society that resorts to make-work projects to busy its citizenry has something basically wrong, and that includes the New Deal back in the Twentieth Century.”

“Never heard of that one,” Hawkins said, from his rear seat.

Joe Chessman said sourly, “I wasn’t supporting the idea, just understanding the viewpoint of the priests. They’d made a nice thing for themselves and didn’t want to see anything happen to it. It’s not the only time a group in the saddle has held up progress for the sake of remaining there. Priests, slave owners, feudalistic barons, or bureaucrats of the Twentieth Century police states. A ruling clique will never give up power without pressure.”

Barry Watson leaned forward and pointed down and to the right. “There’s the river,” he said. “And there’s their capital city. Whoever selected its location didn’t have much of an eye for defense.”

“It probably wasn’t selected,” Chessman said. “It probably just evolved there from some original watering place, or trade crossroads.”

The small spacecraft settled at decreasing speed.

Chessman said, “The central square? It seems to be their market, by the number of people.”

“I suppose so,” Plekhanov said. “Right there before the largest pyramid. We’ll remain inside the craft for the rest of today and tonight.”

Isobel said, her voice low, “But good heavens, that’s going to be awfully…intimate. Me in here with you eight men.”

Natt Roberts, who had put away his camera, backed her. “Yes, why? Doctor Sanchez is right. It’s too crowded in here.”

“Because I said so,” Plekhanov rumbled. “This first impression is important. Our flying machine is undoubtedly the first they’ve seen. We’ve got to give them time to get used to the idea and then get together a welcoming committee. We’ll want the top men, right from the beginning.”

“The equivalent of the Emperor Montezuma meeting Cortez, eh?” Barry Watson said. “A real red carpet welcome.”

The Pedagogue’s space lighter settled to the plaza gently, some fifty yards from the ornate pyramid which stretched up over a hundred and fifty feet and was topped by a small, templelike building. It could have been the twin of the so-called House of the Magician in Uxmal, Yucatan.

Chessman stretched and stood up from the controls. “Your anthropology ought to be better than that, Barry,” he said. “There was no Emperor Montezuma and no Aztec Empire, except in the minds of the Spaniards.” He peered out one of the heavy ports. “And by the looks of this town, we’ll find a duplicate of Aztec society. I don’t believe they’ve even got the wheel.”

The nine of them clustered about the craft’s portholes, taking in the city that surrounded them. The square had emptied magically at their approach, and now the several thousand citizens that had filled it were peering fearfully from street entrances and alleyways.

Isobel Sanchez, pressed up against the side of Plekhanov, said, “Look at the manner in which the women utilize feathers in their costume.”

Plekhanov grunted. “As our doctor, my dear, I would have expected you to have first noted their stature. It indicates a high protein diet, and since the area isn’t particularly suited to the chase, that in turn would indicate extensive herds. I would suspect they are an aggressive people, rather than just sedentary farmers huddled behind their city walls.”