Crown of Slaves

The other slaves fixed their gazes on her. Kathryn shrugged. 'Well, not exactly. I wasn't there myself-where it happened-but I was on Terra at the time. So I never met him personally, but Jeremy X told me about it afterward.'

That was apparently enough. Most of the slaves sitting at the table had wide eyes, as did several of the ones standing about.

'Him?' asked Georg, a bit shakily. 'The guy who massacred all those Scrags at the Artinstute?'

Berry had to bite her tongue. She had been there. Close by, anyway, even if she hadn't witnessed the killings herself. But her sister Helen had, and had given Berry a detailed description of it later. She hadn't realized that the incident had become so famous among Manpower's slaves-although, now that she thought about it, it was hardly surprising that it had. That day in Chicago-the so-called 'Manpower Incident' which had begun with Victor Cachat's killing spree in the underground-had seen the wholesale destruction of Manpower's headquarters on Terra, as well as whatever Scrags the Ballroom had managed to get their hands on throughout the city. Which had been several dozen of them, by all accounts.

The butchery had been great enough, her father had told her a year or so later, to eliminate almost entirely the Scrag presence on Terra. Anton estimated that the survivors-which was most of them, he thought-had emigrated afterward to other planets. It had undoubtedly been one of the Audubon Ballroom's greatest triumphs- and a story which any Manpower slave would cherish.

But, again, Berry had to remind herself that she was 'Princess Ruth'-who'd been several hundred light-years away at the time. So, she tried to act as innocent and naive as she could.

'Yes, I believe that's correct. Him.'

Whatever suspicions might have existed were clearly gone, now. It was as if the name 'Victor Cachat' were a magic talisman. It was a bit disorienting, at first, until Berry realized that over the past few years she'd fallen into the habit of looking at the universe through Manticoran eyes. To her, more than anything, 'Victor Cachat' was an agent of the Republic of Haven-and hence, basically, an enemy.

But the war between Manticore and Haven meant little to Manpower's slaves. And, even if they were inclined to take sides in the affair, she suspected they'd be more likely to incline toward Haven. True, the Star Kingdom had a better reputation than most, when it came to the issue of genetic slavery. In fact, Manticore had signed onto the Cherwell Convention almost forty T-years before the Republic had. It also had the prestige of being the homeland which had produced Catherine Montaigne, who was perhaps the Anti-Slavery League's most glamorous leader. But, against that, there was the fact that Manticore was ruled by an hereditary aristocracy-something which was bound to rub the wrong way against people yoked into a harsh caste system-whereas Haven had a reputation throughout the galaxy for being a bastion of egalitarianism.

The fact that the Havenite regime under the Legislaturalists had been even more dominated by its own hereditary elites than the Star Kingdom, or that under Pierre and Saint-Just it had also been a bastion of savage political repression… simply wouldn't register very much on most slaves. Nor, Berry admitted frankly to herself, would they have cared much anyway. She'd lived herself, all of her life until Anton and Helen rescued her, under the conditions of 'personal freedom' which were supposedly enjoyed by Terrans. In the real world, what that meant if you didn't come from 'the right people' was that your life was sheer misery. The only freedom she'd ever enjoyed had been the freedom to starve.

She understood more clearly, now, something Web Du Havel had said to her in the course of their long journey to Erewhon. Berry had no passionate interest in political theory, true-but, on the other hand, she found almost everything pretty interesting. So she'd been a willing enough participant in Web's discussions with Ruth. (The princess, of course, being a veritable addict when it came to politics.)

* * *

'It's just a fact, girls, like it or not. Make someone live under a yoke like an ox, then don't be shocked and surprised when he turns into a rampaging bull when he breaks free. You were expecting the milk of human kindness? You'll get the same charity and mercy you gave him. The lash repaid by the sword, or the noose, or the torch. That's the way it is. Study any slave rebellion in history, or any uprising of serfs against feudal lords. Kill the master, kill his family, burn his house to the ground. Right off!'

'You sound as if you approve,' Ruth had said, half-accusingly.

' 'Approval' has nothing to do with it, Princess, speaking professionally. That's like accusing a doctor of 'approving' of metabolism. Metabolism is what it is-and sometimes it can be downright horrendous. Learn to look truth in the face, Princess. Most of all, whatever else, learn not to avoid it with circumlocutions.'

He shrugged. 'As it happens-again, speaking professionally-I don'tapprove. But let there be no misunderstanding between us. My disapproval has nothing to do-nothing-with any qualms about the fate of the slaveowner.' His eyes, normally warm, were icy. 'Any man or woman in today's universe who participates voluntarily in the practice of slavery has thereby automatically forfeited any claim they had to life, liberty, or the pursuit of happiness. That's my attitude, and it's the attitude of every slave or ex-slave I ever met. You'll never see me shed a single tear over the killing of a slaver. Not one.'

He drew a deep breath. 'However, that's neither here nor there. The reason I disapprove is because of the effect on the slaves. Because there's another clear pattern in history, and one with precious few exceptions.' Grimly: 'Successful slave rebellions-or any kind of government set up by former slaves, even ones which didn't require an outright rebellion-almost always turn out badly, soon enough. Within a generation, you wind up with a new tyranny which, while it doesn't follow the same genetic lines, is every bit as brutal as what it overthrew.'

'Why?' asked Berry.

'Because all the odds are against the slaves. The ex-slaves, I should say. They come into power ill-trained to use it, and accustomed to brute force as the only way to settle anything. And, usually, in conditions of extreme poverty and deprivation. All in all, just about the worst possible culture medium for the emergence of a tolerant and genuinely democratic polity. Not to mention that, nine times out of ten, the ex-slaves immediately find themselves under attack by hostile outsiders-which means they become a garrison state, almost at once, and a garrison state is inevitably going to be autocratic.'

He ran fingers through his short, stubby hair. 'It's one of the many little bitter ironies of political dynamics. What a slave rebellion needs most of all, right away, is the thing it's least likely to get: a breathing space. A period of a generation or two where the new state it sets up can relax a little. Work out its own customs and traditions for resolving disputes short of the knife-and feel enough in the way of stability that it can afford to do so. Instead of, almost at once, being compelled to surrender authority to an autocrat. Who is likely, mind you, to be quite an impressive leader-and, while he's alive, often does far more good than harm. But the problem is that after he dies…'

Ruth knew far more history than Berry did. 'Toussaint l'Ouverture… and then you wind up with Duvalier and the Ton Ton Macoutes. Yeah, sure, Spartacus was a hell of guy. And since he wound up being executed, his historical legacy is untarnished. But what if he'd triumphed?What would Spartacus Junior have looked like?'

'Exactly,' Web had replied, sighing. 'It's a problem-as you can imagine-I've spent most of my life wrestling with.'

'Come up with any answers?' Berry asked.

Web chuckled. 'Oh, sure. I figured the answer out years ago. The problem is that the odds of ever getting it are… slim, to say the least.'

Ruth and Berry tried to pry the answer out of him. But Web had refused, smiling. 'Not a chance. You'd both think I was crazy.'

* * *

Kathryn's voice brought Berry back to the present.

'Where's Victor Cachat now?'