HEIM: I know it isn’t. When have those beings ever menaced Earth in any way? Unless you count sharp commercial competition, which certain Terrestrial interests would like to see removed.
OLAYA: Well, passing over the space fights, which I suppose could be ascribed to tension—passing over those, there was the business of Earth’s mission to the Naqsan part of Mundomar getting bombed, two years back. Zealots, perhaps—
HEIM: Hell, no. Naqsans don’t produce zealots.
OLAYA: Then covert official action, it was alleged.
HEIM: Sr. Olaya, that bombing was carried out by Eleutherian agents to provoke fury on Earth. Which it did. The immediate result was that the Federation broke off discussions with the League on a joint expedition to the galactic core; but no doubt the effect on the next Terrestrial by-election was more significant.
OLAYA: Pardon me. Can you prove that statement?
HEIM: I have it from friends in New European Intelligence. Naturally, your government isn’t about to tell you.
OLAYA: Let’s return to the main subject. Do you feel we should abandon the Eleutherians to their fate?
HEIM: I’m surprised to hear a loaded question like that from you.
OLAYA: It isn’t really mine. I was quoting innumerable speeches and editorials.
HEIM: (after the briefest of smiles)
Well, please bear in mind, I speak as a private citizen of a foreign state. Thank whatever God there be, my government has had the wit to stay strictly neutral! Though I’d like to remind you, New Europe has offered to both sides its good offices—
OLAYA: Understood, Captain. I simply wondered what your personal opinion is. In view of the analogies between what you did and what Eleutheria is doing.
HEIM: I deny they are analogies. I told you before, Alerion threatened our existence and Naqsa does not. New Europe declared independence but has never grabbed off anybody else’s property.
OLAYA: Just the same—
HEIM: Okay, if you can stand listening to an old rule-of-thumb engineer who’s probably long since obsolete. Let me re-emphasize, this is me speaking and nobody else.
First, yes, I admire the Eleutherians tremendously. What they’ve done is incredible. It’s more than reclaiming land, it’s reclaiming their own souls.
But second, the Naqsans on Tsheyakka—Mundomar— they’ve had their quieter heroisms. Haven’t they? And they are sentient creatures, too. And they were there first, for whatever that counts—
I don’t think they can drive the Eleutherians off the planet. I don’t think the League actually wants them to. The original idea was sound. That globe has plenty of different environments. Two species can perfectly well colonize separate parts of it. Their peaceful interaction could benefit all concerned. Cultural hybrid vigor, you know.
Details can be bargained out. You may recall Talleyrand’s formula, “an equality of dissatisfaction.” The trouble is, the Eleutherians won’t settle for it. For instance, by now they and various unpublicized Terrestrial backers of theirs have such investments in G’yaaru—Sigurdssonia, if you prefer—it’d be pretty damn inconvenient for them to disgorge. So they talk about it being vital to their security. Crap, Even though most of them sincerely believe this, crap. The only security between peoples is a common interest.
OLAYA: Then you blame the whole conflict on Eleutheria?
HEIM: Lord, no. Naqsans in their style are every bit as unreasonable as humans.
But, mainly, here is a dispute which could be worked out in some left-handed fashion, the way “Fifty-four Forty or Fight” once was, except that the great powers have let themselves get sucked in and—
Well, you tell me, Sr. Olaya. Why the hell is the Peace Authority, directed by the Parliament of the World Federation—what possible gain for the ordinary Earthman—why the hell are you underwriting Eleutherian imperialism? If the Eleutherians must conquer more territory, let them do it at their own risk.
(Embarkation of human marines on a transport shuttle. A band plays and amplified voices are singing.)
Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, His day is marching on!
NINE
Sparling drove to Sehala in a groundcar. A flyer would have been too fast—he wanted a while to think—and a horse was no use on a world where only a few square kilometers grew plants which could properly feed it. The els was an occasional beast of burden or draught animal, though not very satisfactory, a sophont being bigger and stronger; but it reacted explosively to being ridden. The great valwas, sometimes domesticated, was never kept in times when fodder became scarce.
Usually Ishtarians were their own bearers. Traffic went brisk on the river highway, huge-muscled specialist porters, fleet specialist couriers, ranchers self-harnessed to wagons, load-free travelers. These were of many more races and nations than the one which dwelt in South Beronnen from dour Haeleners to wandering semi-savages off the Ehur Islands near Valennen. Most went essentially unclothed, but the variety of plumes, jewelry, cloaks, blankets, harness, every sort of ornament and utility article, was bewildering. Boats, barges, oared galleys plied the water. The Gathering was in trouble, its hold had slipped on territory after territory, but its heartland was still a magnet for trade.
Yet Sparling saw a number of legionary patrols. For a long period, whatever legion had been rotated to Sehala—currently the Tamburu Strider—had not had much to do. Its functions had been civil, police and rescue work, arbitration of minor disputes, the public services it traditionally sponsored such as maintaining certain records or lighthouses. And the obvious duties of a police officer were few in a culture which, created in the first place by a species seldom violent, defined only a single criminal act: failure to obey the judgment of the jury that tried a lawsuit. Nor were firemen often needed, most construction being stone or adobe.
Now the Tamburu seemed as busy as when last it was stationed on a march where brigandage or outright war on civilization was rife. Sparling knew why. More and more people were moving here from northerly parts, in the hope of getting established before the change of weather devastated their homes. With no true government, Beronnen lacked means to bar them. But, itself beginning to feel the scorch and the storms, it also lacked means to provide for them. A lucky few might find steady work, even start new enterprises or marry into landholding families. The rest—
These passerby were not the wholly cheerful, energetic beings whom Sparling had watched in years agone. Many, especially among the outlanders, looked shabby, hungry,… desperate. And yet the countryside still lay peaceful, rich, golden beneath blue heaven and towering clouds. He glimpsed large herds and clustered buildings on the ranches which were the foundation of this economy, this society. Further south, the cultivated region around Sehala had been harvested; orchards, stubblefields, reseeded plowlands did not show how scanty that harvest had been when Anu smoldered in the north.
He parked at an inn on the outskirts which had accommodations for humans. “If you don’t mind, guest-friend, I’d prefer coin to your paper,” the landlord told him. “We’ve been getting enough clever counterfeits lately that I could have trouble buying anything with a bill. See, here’s a sample.”
To Sparling the imitation of Terrestrial money seemed crude. But the real thing had never been common outside Primavera. Besides, Ishtarians were frequently insensitive to nuances plain to an Earthling—and vice versa, of course.
“All that foreign riffraff.” the landlord grumbled. “Swindling, stealing, robbing; and if you catch them, what’s the use? Waste of time taking them to court. They don’t own aught to make restitution with. Their labor would be worthless. Excommunication wouldn’t hurt them, when no decent person wants their company in the first place. Dealing’s not likely to teach a lesson, and juries don’t kill people who haven’t been in contempt at least thrice. Yon homeless rascals need only disappear.”
He had listed the sanctions available. Imprisonment, except temporarily for detention, struck his folk as senseless spite, when humans described it; and Sparling thought no Ishtarian would ever grasp the idea of rehabilitation, being too appalled at what seemed a kind of psychic gelding. Maybe the Ishtarians were right.
He felt in his pocket and produced native coins, gold, silver, and bronze, ample for a short stay. The landlord
