The K-Factor | Page 5

and Adao waved Neel in after him, dropping
into a chair. He rummaged through his pockets for a cigarette,
organizing his thoughts. "I'm still with you," he said. "But how do we
work this back to the k-factor?"
"Simple," Neel told him. "Once you've gotten rid of the 3L's and their
false conclusions. Remember that politics in the old days was all We
are angels and They are devils. This was literally believed. In the
history of mankind there has yet to be a war that wasn't backed by the
official clergy on each side. And each declared that God was on their
side. Which leaves You Know Who as prime supporter of the enemy.
This theory is no more valid than the one that a single man can lead a
country into war, followed by the inference that a well-timed
assassination can save the peace."
"That doesn't sound too unreasonable," Costa said.
"Of course not. All of the old ideas sound good. They have a
simple-minded simplicity that anyone can understand. That doesn't
make them true. Kill a war-minded dictator and nothing changes. The
violence-orientated society, the factors that produced it, the military
party that represents it--none of these are changed. The k-factor
remains the same."
"There's that word again. Do I get a definition yet?"
Neel smiled. "Of course. The k-factor is one of the many factors that
interrelate in a society. Abstractly it is no more important than the other
odd thousand we work with. But in practice it is the only one we try to
alter."

"The k-factor is the war factor," Adao Costa said. All the humor was
gone now.
"That's a good enough name for it," Neel said, grinding out his
half-smoked cigarette. "If a society has a positive k-factor, even a slight
one that stays positive, then you are going to have a war. Our planetary
operators have two jobs. First to gather and interpret data. Secondly to
keep the k-factor negative."
They were both on their feet now, moved by the same emotion.
"And Himmel has a positive one that stays positive," Costa said. Neel
Sidorak nodded agreement. "Then let's get into the ship and get going,"
he said.
* * * * *
It was a fast trip and a faster landing. The UN cruiser cut its engines
and dropped like a rock in free fall. Night rain washed the ports and the
computer cut in the maximum permissible blast for the minimum time
that would reduce their speed to zero at zero altitude. Deceleration sat
on their chests and squeezed their bones to rubber. Something crunched
heavily under their stern at the exact instant the drive cut out. Costa
was unbelted and out the door while Neel was still feeling his insides
shiver back into shape.
The unloading had an organized rhythm that rejected Neel. He finally
realized he could help best by standing back out of the way while the
crewmen grav-lifted the heavy cases out through the cargo port, into
the blackness of the rain-lashed woods. Adao Costa supervised this and
seemed to know what he was doing. A signal rating wearing earphones
stood to one side of the lock chanting numbers that sounded like
detector fixes. There was apparently enough time to unload
everything--but none to spare. Things got close towards the end.
Neel was suddenly bustled out into the rain and the last two crates were
literally thrown out after him. He plowed through the mud to the edge
of the clearing and had just enough time to cover his face before the

take-off blast burst out like a new sun.
"Sit down and relax," Costa told him. "Everything is in the green so far.
The ship wasn't spotted on the way down. Now all we have to do is
wait for transportation."
In theory at least, Adao Costa was Neel's assistant. In practice he took
complete charge of moving their equipment and getting it under cover
in the capital city of Kitezh. Men and trucks appeared to help them, and
vanished as soon as their work was done. Within twenty hours they
were installed in a large loft, all of the machines uncrated and plugged
in. Neel took a no-sleep and began tuning checks on all the circuits,
glad of something to do. Costa locked the heavy door behind their last
silent helper, then dropped gratefully onto one of the bedding rolls.
"How did the gadgets hold up?" he asked.
"I'm finding out now. They're built to take punishment--but being
dropped twelve feet into mud soup, then getting baked by rockets isn't
in the original specs."
"They crate things well these days," Costa said unworriedly, sucking on
a bottle of the famous Himmelian beer. "When do you go to work?"
"We're working right now," Neel told him,