Silence is Deadly Read Online Free

increasingly agitated. Abruptly he got to his feet. “I only know what a scientist from my department told me. Perhaps he was—if you’ll excuse me. There is no important business left to consider, is there? I have many—my own work, you know, those of you who have no administrative responsibilities can’t be aware of how much—”
    He turned uncertainly and walked away.
    That, also, was unheard of.
    There was a shuffle of feet, a twisting of torsos, a purring of motors as the councilors turned themselves or their chairs to look after him. E-Wusk struggled to an upright position and then sank back in astonishment. Darzek’s eyes were on FIVE, who was watching the departing councilor with obvious concern.
    FIVE said, “I’ll call on him later today.”
    “And I’ll see him tomorrow,” Darzek said. He turned to the others. “At your conveniencies, I want each of you to pay him a courtesy call before you leave Primores.”
    “But why?” THREE demanded. “If the Eighth Councilor has lost his mental balance, Supreme should be informed. But surely there is no need for we seven to inconvenience ourselves.”
    Darzek silenced a babble of talk with a wave of his hand. “The Eighth Councilor has not lost his mental balance,” he said. “We all know how he persists in seeing dangers where there are none, but we also know that he faces any danger with gusto.”
    “That is true,” FIVE agreed.
    “So I think all of us should call on him,” Darzek went on. “Try to learn what is bothering him and let me know what you find out. As you are aware, I have shared many real dangers with the Eighth Councilor. This is the only time I have ever seen him frightened.”
    * * * *
    FIVE reported to Darzek later that day. She had visited Rok Wllon and asked if he had more poetry from the world of Kamm. He had promised to send her some. He seemed as rational and as stodgy as ever—which meant that he had returned to normal.
    Darzek thanked her.
    He went himself the following morning, but the Eighth Councilor was not at home. He returned that afternoon, and Rok Wllon received him in the vast study that ornamented his official councilor’s residence.
    In response to Darzek’s questions, he activated a projection that filled the room: a shallow slice of the galaxy reproduced three dimensionally just above their heads. Darzek consulted the key and orientated himself; and then Rok Wllon touched a control and set one of the suns flashing on and off: Gwanor, whose only habitable planet was named Kamm.
    “What’s the problem with Kamm?” Darzek wanted to know.
    “There’s a Death Religion,” Rok Wllon whispered.
    “Surely there’s nothing unique about that,” Darzek said.
    Rok Wllon hesitated. He whispered again. “I can’t say more than that. Not yet. Not here.”
    Darzek studied him thoughtfully. This was the same frightened Rok Wllon he had seen at the council meeting. “When can you say more?” Darzek asked. “And where?”
    “Perhaps tomorrow.” Rok Wllon leaped to his feet and paced the floor excitedly, disrupting the pinpricks of light that wheeled about the room’s axis. “Yes. Tomorrow would be better.”
    The following morning, when Darzek called again, Rok Wllon was not at home. Darzek went at once to the Department of Uncertified Worlds.
    This was the anonymous service of the Galactic Synthesis. It attracted people with the peculiar temperament that was especially suited for world watching—a turn of mind and personality that enabled them to fit into an alien society and play a role there through their entire lives and simply observe.
    The Uncertified Worlds were those planets that were, for one or more of a multitude of reasons, ineligible to join the Galactic Synthesis. Requirements for membership were based more upon the character of a world’s inhabitants than upon their achievements, and the Synthesis demonstrated no official interest in whether any world attained membership or not. Non-member worlds