“I think Evon will be here,” the girl said too casually as they entered the forest and turned into a path that led to the glade where the elders had assembled.
He took her arm suddenly, and stopped in the pathway.
“Letha—you have worked for me many months.”
“Yes—”
“I love you, Letha.”
She smiled very slowly, and lifted her hands to his face. He kissed her quietly, hating himself.
“You’ll take me with you,” she said.
“No.” It was impossible.
“Then you’ll stay.”
“It is … forbidden … verboten. …” There was no word in the tongue.
“I can’t understand. … If you love. …”
He swallowed hard. For the girl, “love” automatically settled everything, and consummation must follow. How could he explain.
“Letha—in your culture, ‘life’ is the highest value.”
“How could it be otherwise? Love me, Meikl.”
He took a deep breath and straightened. “You understand ‘drama,’ Letha. I have watched your people. Their lives are continuous conscious playacting. Your lives are a dance, but you know you are dancing, and you dance as you will. Have you watched our people?”
She nodded slowly. “You dance a different dance—act a different play.”
“It’s not a play, Letha. We act an unconscious drama, and thus the drama becomes more important than living. And death takes precedence over life.”
She shuddered slightly and stared into his eyes, unbelieving.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Can you understand?—that I love you, and yet my … my. …” He groped for a word for “duty.” “My death-allegiance to the ship-people takes precedence? I can neither take you nor remain with you.”
Something went dead in her eyes. “Let us go to the glade,” she said in a monotone. “It’s growing late.”
“And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
—Anonymous
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
My dear son, now tell me, O?”
“The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,
Mither, mither;
The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear;
Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!”
The trouble had begun on the eighteenth day of the ninth month. A party of unidentified men had stolen into the occupied zone during the night. Without warning, they killed three guards, seized control of the dispensary, raided the pharmacy, taking the entire supply of fungus immunization serum, together with a supply of the deadly phials and needles. They stole a flyer and departed to the south, skimming low over the forest to avoid fire from the grounded fleet. The following day, a leaflet appeared, circulating among the fleet personnel.
Notice of sanctuary
To: All personnel
From: Ausland Committee
Subject: Freedom
Any officer or man who wishes to resign from the services of the imperial forces of the secession may do so of this date.
The procedure for resignation involves no formal statement. a man may terminate his period of service by departing from the occupied zone.
Any officer or man who attempts to interfere with the resignation of another shall be tried in absentia by this committee, and if found guilty, shall incur the death penalty.
“An outrageous and preposterous bit of deviltry!” ven Klaeden had hissed. “Get them. Make an example of them.”
In reversal of previous policy, a police party was sent to search for the self-styled ausland committee, with orders to capture or kill on sight. The police party hunted down and killed six deserters, dragged eleven more back to the occupied zone, under the very eyes of the native population. But the immunizing serum was not recovered.
A few days later, three staff officers and a dozen officers in Justice Section awoke with yelps in the night to pluck stinging needles from their skins and scream for the guard to pursue the silent shadows that had invaded their quarters.
Five men were captured. Three of them were natives. Interrogation failed to disclose the location of the immunizing serum.
Muttering natives began to desert the project. The five culprits were brought before the baron.
“Execute them in public, with full dress military ceremony. Then close the border of the occupied zone. No native may leave, if he has signed a work contract.”
On the day of the execution, the natives attempted to leave en masse. The police activity along the border approached the proportions of a massacre.
“We were nearly finished,” raged the baron, pacing like an angry predator in the glade. “Another two weeks, and the first ore would come out of the crushers. They can’t stop us now. They can’t quit.”
Three elders of the Geoark sat like frozen statues on a mossy boulder, tightlipped, not understanding the colonel’s tongue, disdaining to speak in the intermediate language.
“Explain it to them, Meikl. Make it clear.”
Pale, trembling with suppressed disapproval, the analyst bowed curtly and turned to the girl. “Tell them,” he said in the Intermedia, “that death will come to any native who deserts, and that ten auslanders will die for every man murdered by the renegade committee. Tell them that the Geoark is. …” He paused. There was no word for “hostage.”
He was explaining the hostage-concept lengthily, while the girl’s face drained of color. Suddenly she turned away to retch. Meikl stood stricken for a moment, turned helplessly toward the baron.
“They understood you, damn them!” ven Klaeden snapped. “They know the Intermedia.”
The elders continued to sit stonily on the boulder without acknowledging that they had heard. One of them sighed deeply and spoke a few words to the others. They nodded sadly, answered with polite monosyllables.
“No!” Letha yelped, suddenly whirling, looking at the elders.
One of them smiled and murmured a few words to her. Then the three of them slid down from the boulder. The guard who stood at port arms a few feet away stirred restlessly.
The elders walked casually toward a path leading away from the glade. The guard looked questioningly at the officers.
“Where are they going?” ven Klaeden demanded.
“Well, Letha?” Meikl muttered.
“I—I don’t know—”
“You’re lying, girl,” the baron grunted, then to the guards: “Tell them to halt.”
“Party, halt!” snapped the guard.
The three elderly gentlemen continued toward the path, loose robes gathered up from spindley
