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The Deadly Daughters

Marks, Winston K.

Published: 1958

Type(s): Short Fiction, Science Fiction

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These gorgeous fanatics were equally at home with men, murder, or matrimony,

and they used all three with amazing success.

Dr. Hubert Long, 40, bachelor and assistant professor of political sci-

ence at Mentioch University, thrust his rugged, unlovely face forward,

sticking out his neck literally and figuratively.

"The Humanist Party," he shouted at the 800 odd students in the lec-

ture hall, "is not a political party at all. It's an oligarchy, so firmly estab-

lished in Washington that our electoral form of government is an empty

ritual, a ridiculous myth. Our elections are rigged to perpetuate a select

group of feminists in absolute power."

The mixed group of seniors stirred in their seats with wide eyes, and

many began taking notes.

"This may cost me my position at the university," he said grimly, "but

the time has come for all responsible citizens to face the fact that the

Government of the United States of America has degenerated into little

better than an absolute dictatorship!"

This time a rustle of whispering grew to restless buzzing. A young

man in a bowtie leaped to his feet breaking the no-questions rule in

Long's over-size classes. "May the Mentioch Bugle quote you, Dr. Long?"

"You may headline those views, and I hope you do," Long declared

belligerently, adding extra emphasis.

"Exactly what do you imply when you call the Humanist Party a

group of feminists?" the young man asked, encouraged.

Long's gaze swept out, noting the mild amusement on the faces of the

men students, the growing annoyance in the women. He fixed the re-

porter for the campus paper with a level stare. "I suppose you feel that

because only 30 percent of our legislatures are women, that men still

dominate Congress?"

"I think that is the popular conception," the reporter said in a patroniz-

ing tone.

"Then think again, young man. Analyze the composition of the Senate

and House, and break down the key committee appointments by sexes.

You will find three-fourths of these posts held by women, and the bal-

ance are held by men whose wives are members of the top-level Human-

ist Party movement. I say to you that our whole nation is dominated by a

handful of female fanatics to whom intellectual integrity is unknown."

"What are your indictments? Please enumerate—"

"I will, I will," Long shouted, ignoring the microphone before him.

"Without consideration of our national prestige the Humanist Party has

emasculated our influence as a world power with its pacifistic actions.

On the domestic front, the Party has initiated a program of so-called In-

ternal Security, a cradle-to-the-grave pampering that amounts to the

most vicious State-Socialism the world has seen since the fall of Soviet

Russia. We are fast becoming slaves to the soft, gutless bureaucracy in

Washington that feeds us, wipes our noses, encourages excessive breed-

ing and enforces its fantastic policies by use of goon squads!"

"Goon squads?" The young reporter lost his smile. "You had better cla-

rify that, Dr. Long. I wouldn't want to join you in a libel action."

"Keep quoting me," Long snarled. "I said goon squads, and I meant

just that. Once I belonged to a scholarly fraternity of political scientists

who were critical of our government. Of some eighteen members, I am

the only one left in public life. The rest have all disappeared, and I have

no doubt that my previous silence on these matters is all that has saved

me. But the time for discretion is past. If we are to save our independ-

ence and democratic freedoms the time for action is now! I say to you—"

It made more than the headlines of the college campus at Mentioch.

The news-wire services picked it up, and Dr. Long's radical views made

pages two and three all over the nation.

Emily Bogarth, head of Internal Security, raged at her assistant, bald-

headed Terman Donlup. "Must I read about these things in the papers to

keep up on subversive activity?"

"But the man's record shows complete stability," Donlup defended.

"He simply blew up without any warning at all. The Dean of Women at

Mentioch tells me that Dr. Long has never had a word of criticism from

his department head. I suppose we had better remove him from his posi-

tion at once, eh?"

Madame Secretary Bogarth shook her head. "That's not enough. This

calls for liquidation. I want a special squad on this one." She began writ-

ing names on a sheet of paper, names of some of the most effective un-

scrupulous yet faithful operators in the party's top echelon.

She handed it to Donlup. "This man is dangerous. He could force us

into open control of the press and higher education. Get these people

here not later than tomorrow. We can't waste time."

"Yes, Madame Secretary," Donlup saluted with a full bow and went to

work.

The following afternoon Emily Bogarth faced the squad with its

brilliant, green-eyed leader. She told them their mission and then dis-

missed all but one. "I'm sorry to hand this one to you. I know what a

promising career you had before you. But this man is deadly to our pur-

pose. Believe me, I am not wasting your special aptitudes."

"If it's for the good of the Party—"

"Dr. Hubert Long is a lighted fuse," Emily Bogarth said, her cold eyes

hard on her operator, "that could blow the Humanist movement sky-

high. I want you to snuff out that fuse." She squeezed a forefinger

against her spatulate thumb.

The operator nodded and the green eyes flashed with the same fanatic

spark that electrified American politics at the turn of the 21st century

and launched the Humanist Party into its 30-year tenure of power.

At first only a shocked, embarrassed silence greeted Dr. Long on the

campus of Mentioch University, but as the press notices of his utterances

grew in volume so did his prestige.

He began to have a number of local visitors who evinced sharp in-

terest in his views. At the end of the first week he was holding forth each

evening to a sizable audience in his tiny bungalow on the edge of faculty

row.

By nature a careful, practical man, Hubert Long now carried a small

pistol in his coat pocket, but being also a fearless, independent individu-

al, he admitted all callers and exposed himself daily to the public. It

wasn't entirely personal bravado, however. He knew from his years of

intense, discreet research that the goon squads rarely made their attacks

in the public eye. When they liquidated him he fervently hoped they

would

make

this

mistake

and

prove

his

point

concerning

their

operations.

Although he didn't seek martyrdom, Dr. Long was prepared for it, as

he explained to the informal seminar that had accumulated at his home

this Sunday afternoon. It was now late evening and the endless ques-

tions were beginning to grow wearying.

"How do you know," asked a skeptical businessman, "that I am not an

assassin who will ambush you on the way to the bathroom tonight?"

Winston K. Marks - The Deadly Daughters.pdf

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