nonce, the acknowledged sovereign of Mars under the legalistic malarky of the Larkin precedent … and empowered to hand out concessions, trading rights, enclaves, ad nauseam. He must either do these things and be subjected to pressures even worse than those attendant on great wealth — or he must abdicate and allow his Larkin rights to devolve on those men now on Mars, i.e., to Douglas.»
Jubal looked pained. «I detested both alternatives. Gentlemen, I could not permit my client to be trapped into such a farce. The Larkin Decision itself had to be nullified with respect to Mars — without giving the High Court a chance to rule.»
Jubal grinned. «So I lied myself blue in the face to create a theory. Sovereign honors had been rendered Mike; the world had seen it. But sovereign honors may be rendered to a sovereign's alter ego, his ambassador. So I asserted that Mike was no cardboard king under a precedent not in point — but the ambassador of the great Martian nation!»
Jubal shrugged. «Sheer bluff. But I was staking my bluff on my belief that others — Douglas, and Kung — would be no more certain of the facts than was
«I hope so,» Captain van Tromp said soberly, «but I did not take your statements as lies, Jubal.»
«Eh? I was spinning fancy words, extemporizing.»
«No matter. I think you told the truth.» The skipper of the
Caxton's jaw dropped. Harshaw answered, «In what way, sir?»
Van Tromp said, «I'll amend that. I think he's a scout, reconnoitering for his Martian masters. Don't mistake me — I'm as fond of the boy as you are. But there's no reason for him to be loyal to us — to Earth, I mean.» The Captain frowned. «Everybody assumes that a man found on Mars would jump at the chance to go “home” — but it wasn't that way. Eh, Sven?»
«Mike hated the idea,» agreed Nelson. «We couldn't get close to him; he was afraid. Then the Martians told him to go with us … and he behaved like a soldier carrying out orders that scared him silly.»
«Just a moment,» Caxton protested. «Captain — Mars invade us?
«Close enough,» admitted van Tromp.
«Why should we attack Jupiter? Or Mars attack us?»
«Ben, have you seen the proposals for a beachhead on Jupiter?»
«Nothing has gone beyond the dream stage. It isn't practical.»
«Space flight wasn't practical a few years ago. Engineers calculate that, by using all we've learned from ocean exploration, plus equipping men with powered suits, it is possible to tackle Jupiter. Don't think that Martians are less clever than we are. You should see their cities.»
«Uh — » said Caxton. «Okay, I still don't see why they would bother.»
«Captain?»
«Yes, Jubal?»
«I see another objection. You know the classification of cultures into “Apollonian” and “Dionysian”.»
«I know in general.»
«Well, it seems to me that even Zuni culture would be called “Dionysian” on Mars. You've been there — but I've been talking with Mike. That boy was raised in an Apollonian culture — such cultures are not aggressive.»
«Mmm … I wouldn't count on it.»
Mahmoud said suddenly, «Skipper, there's evidence to support Jubal. You can analyse a culture from its language — and there isn't any Martian word for “war”. At least, I don't think there is. Nor for “weapon”… nor “fighting”. If a word isn't in a language, then its culture never has the referent.»
«Oh, twaddle, Stinky! Animals fight — ants conduct wars. Do they have words for it?»
«They would have,» Mahmoud insisted, «in any verbalizing race. A verbalizing race has words for every concept and creates new ones or new definitions whenever a new concept evolves. A nervous system able to verbalize cannot avoid verbalizing. If the Martians know what “war” is, they have a word for it.»
«There's a way to settle it,» Jubal suggested. «Call in Mike.»
«Just a moment,» van Tromp objected. «I learned years ago never to argue with a specialist. But I also learned that history is a long list of specialists who were dead wrong — sorry, Stinky.»
«You're right, Captain — only I'm not wrong this time.»
«All Mike can settle is whether he knows a certain word … which might be like asking a two-year-old to define “calculus”. Let's stick to facts. Sven? About Agnew?»
Nelson answered, «It's up to you, Captain.»
«Well … this is among water brothers, Gentlemen. Lieutenant Agnew was our junior medical officer. Brilliant, Sven tells me. But he couldn't stand Martians. I had given orders against going armed once it appeared that Martians were peaceful.
«Agnew disobeyed me — at least we were never able to find his side arm and the men who saw him alive say that he was wearing it. But all my log shows is: “Missing and presumed dead”.
«Two crewmen saw Agnew go into a passage between two large rocks. Then they saw a Martian enter the same way — whereupon they hurried, as Dr. Agnew's peculiarity was well known.
«Both heard a shot. One says that he reached this opening in time to glimpse Agnew past the Martian. And then he didn't see Agnew. The second man says that when he got there the Martian was just exiting, sailed on past and went his way. With the Martian out of the way they could see the space between the rocks … and it was a dead end, empty.
«That's all, gentlemen. Agnew might have jumped that rock wall, under Mars' low gravity and the impetus of fear — but I could not and I tried — and to mention that these crewmen were wearing breathing gear — have to, on Mars — and hypoxia makes a man's senses unreliable. I don't know that the first crewman was drunk through oxygen shortage; I mention it because it is easier to believe than what he reported — which is that Agnew vanished in the blink of an eye. I suggested that he had suffered hypoxia and ordered him to check his breather gear.
«I thought Agnew would show up and I was looking forward to chewing him out for going armed.
«But we never found him. My misgivings about Martians date to that incident. They never again seemed to be just big, gentle, harmless, rather comical creatures, even though we never had trouble and they always gave us anything we wanted, once Stinky figured out how to ask for it. I played down the incident — can't let men panic when you're a hundred million miles from home. I couldn't play down the fact that Dr. Agnew was missing; the ship's company searched for him. But I squelched any suggestion of anything mysterious — Agnew got lost among those rocks, died when his oxygen ran out … was buried under sand drift. I used it to clamp down on always traveling in company, staying in radio contact, checking breather gear. I did not tell that crewman to keep his mouth shut; I simply hinted that his story was ridiculous since his mate did not confirm it. I think the official version prevailed.»
Mahmoud said slowly, «Captain, this is the first I've heard that there was any mystery. And I prefer your “official” version — I' m not superstitious.»
Van Tromp nodded. «That's what I wanted. Only Sven and myself heard that wild tale. But, just the same — » The captain suddenly looked old. « — I wake up in the night and ask myself: “
Jubal listened without comment. Had Jill told Ben about Berquist and that other fellow — Johnson? Had anyone told Ben about the battle of the swimming pool? It seemed unlikely; the kids knew that the «official» version was that the first task force had never showed up, they had all heard his phone call with Douglas.
Damn it, the only course was to keep quiet and keep on trying to impress the boy that he must not make unpleasant strangers disappear!
Jubal was saved from further soul-searching by Anne's arrival. «Boss, Mr. Bradley is at the door. The one
