Men have fought and died for life and liberty since the beginning of time,and they will continue the fight until time finally comes to an end. Hereis a thoroughly readable story about just such a situation—a story whichcould well be a forecast of the chilling future of your children and ours.
The planet's natives were so similar to their conquerors that noone could tell them apart—except for their difference in thinking.
This was Graduation Day. Thesenior class from the Star Instituteof Advanced Science wasscheduled to go through theMuseum of the Conquered andobserve the remnants of the racethat had once ruled this planet.There were many such museumsmaintained for the purpose of allowingthe people to see the greatnesstheir ancestors had displayedin conquering this world and alsoto demonstrate how thorough andhow complete that conquest hadbeen. Perhaps the museums hadother reasons for existing, butthe authorities did not revealthese reasons. Visiting such amuseum was part of the exercisesof every graduating class.
Billy Kasker arrived early, totake care of all last minute problemsfor Mr. Phipper, the instructorwho would take the groupthrough the museum, and to makecertain that all of the members ofthe graduating class knew whatthey were supposed to do on thetrip. Billy Kasker was class president.A handsome, husky youth,accommodating, generous, andthoughtful to a fault. He was wellliked both by the faculty and thestudents. He was pleasant toeverybody, even to Joe Buckner,who called him "teacher's pet"and sneeringly remarked that hehad been elected class presidentas a result of a superb job ofboot-licking.
Even such remarks as thesehad not disturbed Bill Kasker. Hestill acted as if Joe Buckner washis best friend.
"Are we all here, Billy?" theinstructor called.
"All here, sir," Billy Kaskeranswered.
"Very well. Let's start to themuseum. As we go through youmay ask any questions you wish.However, I must insist you stayclose to me and not wander fromthe group. We will be in nodanger, you understand—thecreatures living in the museumhave had their fangs pulled mosteffectively—but even so we mustnot take chances."
The instructor led off. He wasa fussy little person in a shinyblack coat and a soft hat thatwas too big for him. No matterhow much paper he stuffed insidethe brim, the hat never seemed tofit right. Peering through glassesthat were always threatening tofall off, he moved away from theStar Institute toward the nearbymuseum. The class of eight girlsand nine boys followed him.
"Why do we have to go throughthis old museum?" Joe Bucknercomplained. "We already knoweverything about it."
"It's the rule," Billy Kaskeranswered. "The faculty thinks weshould see the situation at firsthand. Then we will have a betterunderstanding of it."
Joe Buckner grunted disdainfully."You're always sucking inwith the big shots and tellingeverybody what they say."
"You asked me. I tried to tellyou." Billy Kasker's voice wasstill pleasant. If a slight glint appearedin his eyes, it remainedthere for only a second.
The museum was an open areamany miles long. It was enclosedby a high, electrically chargedfence along which guard towerswere placed at regular intervals.There was only one gate, to whichthe instructor led the class. Acaptain, resplendent in a brilliantuniform, came out of the guardhouse to greet them.
"The graduating class from theStar Institute, eh? Good. We hadnotice that y