actions before the other Masters.”
Martin almost lost the last few words, because suddenly everyone in the Hall was standing up and reaching for their swords, he wondered sickly whether his short, Earth-human legs could get him to the entrance before the longer Teldin limbs-including the ones swinging swords-could head him off. His own weapon was still in the backpack, and pitifully inadequate anyway. But the interrogator had swung round and was holding up all four hands palms outward.
“Hold!” it said. “This matter will be dealt with in proper form when its symbol has been brought to us. First must come the judgment and the ruling on this off-world slave.”
“What’s going on?” Beth said anxiously. “You said you knew what you were doing and now… I’m coming down.”
“Wait,” Martin said, switching out the translator. “The Masters can talk and listen to me through Skorta, and they will tell it things for nay benefit which slaves are forbidden to know, because it is just as curious about me as they are. The punishment for learning this forbidden knowledge must be severe, yet Skorta seems unafraid. There’s something very odd going on here, and I’m beginning to wonder if…”
Martin broke off because the interrogator was talking again. In calm, emotionless tones it was fleshing out, adding depth and a human, or at least Teldin, dimension to the catastrophe which had smashed their technologically advanced culture flat and returned its people to their equivalent of the dark ages.
Up until one thousand one hundred and seventeen years ago, Teldi had had a satellite, an airless body rich in the mineral resources which had become so depleted on the mother world. The moon had been colonized many centuries earlier and, because it had been given the best that the mother world could provide in the form of its keenest young minds and technical resources, the colony became much more technologically advanced than its parent. Its people remade their lifeless world, scattering its surface with domed cities and farms, and burrowing deeply toward the still-hot core. They became self-sufficient, justifiably proud and independent, and, finally, an armed threat.
But it was not a nuclear preemptive strike which destroyed Teldi’s moon, the Master insisted. It had been a catastrophe deep inside the moon itself, associated with experiments on a new power source, which had detonated the satellite like a gigantic bomb.
On Teldi they watched their moon fly slowly apart, and they knew that if one of those larger pieces were to crash into the mother planet it would tear through the crust into the underlying core, and in the resulting planetary upheaval all life on Teldi would be wiped out. However, they had maintained in a state of instant readiness a tremendous arsenal of nuclear weapons capable of reaching their newly disintegrated moon, and the majority of these were hastily reprogrammed to intercept the larger masses of lunar material heading toward them and blast them into smaller and much less devastating pieces.
Many of these relatively small pieces fell on Teldi, and in the resulting devastation, more than a quarter of the planetary population lost their lives. But the threat had been neutralized, for the time being.
Computations made on the paths of the remaining large pieces of the satellite clearly indicated that the mother world was still in danger. There was a very high probability that world-wrecking collisions would take place on an average of three times every century. The planet’s long-term survival depended on the Teldins reducing the size of these future world-wreckers in the same way as they had dealt with the first ones.
In spite of the highest priority that was given to missile production and the development of more effective warheads, and the manned missions which visited the larger bodies to planet charges designed to blow them virtually to dust, progress was desperately slow. Large meteors continued to fall: all too often they demolished key missile production or launching installations.
For this reason it required close on fifty years for the project to reach completion, completion in that there were no longer any bodies in Teldi’s path capable of destroying the planet, and no missiles left to send against them if there had been. The moon had been reduced and scattered into a nearly homogenous cloud of meteorite material, most of which circled the planet and fell steadily onto its surface.
The Scourge had come.
No fabrication or person could live on or above the surface of Teldi for more than a few dozen revolutions without the certainty of damage, injury, or death. The remnants of the technology which had survived long enough to save them were eroded away or hammered flat by the Scourge. Their once-great civilization was reduced to ruins, its population decimated and driven slowly back toward the level of their savage, cave dwelling prehistory-but not all the way back.
They had been able to survive in their caves, deep valleys, mines, and underground missile installations and extend them into subsurface cities. They had farmed because the Scourge could not kill every plant and tree, and they had built protected road systems and kept as much as was useful of the old knowledge alive and stored the rest. But the chief reason for their continued survival as a culture had been that increasing numbers of the frightened and despairing population placed themselves under the protection and orders of the senior military officers.
It was the nature of things that saviors became Masters, and it had been all too easy for the system to perpetuate itself when the Masters had the respect as well as the obedience of their slaves, as well as a large measure of control over their thinking-including the habit of distrust which was instilled from birth.
For the/e had been a few minutes warning of the destruction of their satellite, time enough for the mother world to be told that it was about to be obliterated because some technician had been too stupidly trusting- someone had accepted as fact something which should have been doubted and rechecked. For this error Teldi had been lashed by the Scourge for more than a thousand years. The reason for their fanatical distrust, Martin thought as the Master ended its grim history lesson, was now all too obvious.
If only the Masters had not enslaved the population while they were saving it, and made knowledge available only to a favored, high-ranking few…
“In every society there must be persons with authority and responsibility in charge,” Skorta said suddenly, making Martin realize that he had been so affected by the Master’s history lesson that he had been thinking aloud. “No mechanism should be overloaded by a responsible owner. But you have been to my school, Martin, and you know that in practice every person is given a little more knowledge than it needs, in the hope that it will evince a desire for even more. Naturally, it is not given more until it has shown that it is capable of responsibly using the knowledge it already possesses.”
“I begin to understand,” Martin said. “The instructions of my Master were that I…”
“Please inform this slave,” the interrogator broke in, “that the instructions of its absent Master mean nothing to us. There are three instances of recorded hearsay describing the landing on Teldi of mechanisms which spoke our language and tried to show us great wonders projected into the empty air around them before they were destroyed. Our reply was that we would accept no communication unless it was delivered to us in person by a responsible Master. This slave is not a responsible person, its presence before us is an insult, and I cannot understand its Master’s purpose in sending it here when that Master is fully aware of the situation on Teldi.
“We are not yet decided on what to do with this slave,” the Master went on. “Should it be punished physically as is a child for persistent disobedience, or merely returned to its Master who will not act like a Master?”
Martin swallowed, thinking that a spanking from one of the overlarge Teldins would not be a pleasant experience either physically or mentally. He was also thinking about his tutor on Fomalhaut Three, who was most certainly aware of the problem, which Martin had been given full responsibility for solving. He could run away or try to solve this problem, the decision was his alone. Martin swore under his breath. He was beginning to view his tutor, the Teldin Masters, and even himself, in a new light.
“Before this decision is made,” he said to the teacher, “is it permitted that I discuss with you, my friend and equal, my instruction regarding…”
“Martin,” the Teldin said, “I am no longer your equal.”
Chapter 11
HlS first feeling was of betrayal. He wondered if Skorta had been as honest with him as it had seemed. But then he remembered some of the things it had said on the way to the city, at the school, and on the hyper-ship.
