“Yes. The Commissioner of Native Welfare wanted that done, mainly at the urging of the Director of Economic, Educational and Technical Assistance. The E.E.T.A. crowd don’t like shoonoon. They have been trying, ever since their agency was set up, to undermine and destroy their influence with the natives. This looked like a good chance to get rid of some of them.”
Travis nodded. “Yes. And as soon as the disturbances in Bluelake started, the Constabulary started rounding them up there, too, and at the evacuee cantonments. They got about fifty of them, mostly from the cantonments east of the city—the natives brought in from the flooded tidewater area. They just dumped the lot of them onto us. We have them penned up in a lorry-hangar on the military reservation now.” He turned to Gonzales. “How many do you think you’ll gather up out here, general?” he asked.
“I’d say about a hundred and fifty, when we have them all.”
Travis groaned. “We can’t keep all of them in that hangar, and we don’t have anywhere else—”
Sometimes a new idea sneaked up on Miles, rubbing against him and purring like a cat. Sometimes one hit him like a sledgehammer. This one just seemed to grow inside him.
“Foxx, you know I have the top three floors of the Suzikami Building; about five hundred hours ago, I leased the fourth and fifth floors, directly below. I haven’t done anything with them, yet; they’re just as they were when Trans-Space Imports moved out. There are ample water, light, power, air-conditioning and toilet facilities, and they can be sealed off completely from the rest of the building. If General Maith’s agreeable, I’ll take his shoonoon off his hands.”
“What in blazes will you do with them?”
“Try a little experiment in psychological warfare. At minimum, we may get a little better insight into why these natives think the Last Hot Time is coming. At best, we may be able to stop the whole thing and get them quieted down again.”
“Even the minimum’s worth trying for,” Travis said. “What do you have in mind, Miles? I mean, what procedure?”
“Well, I’m not quite sure, yet.” That was a lie; he was very sure. He didn’t think it was quite time to be specific, though. “I’ll have to size up my material a little, before I decide on what to do with it. Whatever happens, it won’t hurt the shoonoon, and it won’t make any more trouble than arresting them has made already. I’m sure we can learn something from them, at least.”
Travis nodded. “General Maith is very much impressed with your grasp of native psychology,” he said. “What happened out here this morning was exactly as you predicted. Whatever my recommendation’s worth, you have it. Can you trust your native driver to take your car back to Bluelake alone?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then suppose you ride in with me in my car. We’ll talk about it on the way in, and go see General Maith at once.”
Bluelake was peaceful as they flew in over it, but it was an uneasy peace. They began running into military contragravity twenty miles beyond the open farmlands—they were the chlorophyll green of Terran vegetation—and the natives at work in the fields were being watched by more military and police vehicles. The carniculture plants, where Terran-type animal tissue was grown in nutrient-vats, were even more heavily guarded, and the native city was being patroled from above and the streets were empty, even of the hordes of native children who usually played in them.
The Terran city had no streets. Its dwellers moved about on contragravity, and tall buildings rose, singly or in clumps, among the landing-staged residences and the green transplanted trees. There was a triple wire fence around it, the inner one masked by vines and the middle one electrified, with warning lights on. Even a government dedicated to the betterment of the natives and unwilling to order military action against them was, it appeared, unwilling to take too many chances.
Major General Denis Maith, the Federation Army commander on Kwannon, was considerably more than willing to find a temporary home for his witch doctors, now numbering close to two hundred. He did insist that they be kept under military guard, and on assigning his aide, Captain Travis, to cooperate on the project. Beyond that, he gave Miles a free hand.
Miles and Travis got very little rest in the next ten hours. A half-company of engineer troops was also kept busy, as were a number of Kwannon Planetwide News technicians and some Terran and native mechanics borrowed from different private business concerns in the city. Even the most guarded hints of what he had in mind were enough to get this last cooperation; he had been running a news-service in Bluelake long enough to have the confidence of the business people.
He tried, as far as possible, to keep any intimation of what was going on from Government House. That, unfortunately, hadn’t been far enough. He found that out when General Maith was on his screen, in the middle of the work on the fourth and fifth floors of the Suzikami Building.
“The governor general just screened me,” Maith said. “He’s in a tizzy about our shoonoon. Claims that keeping them in the Suzikami Building will endanger the whole Terran city.”
“Is that the best he can do? Well, that’s rubbish, and he knows it. There are less than two hundred of them, I have them on the fifth floor, twenty stories above the ground, and the floor’s completely sealed off from the floor below. They can’t get out, and I have tanks of sleep-gas all over the place which can be opened either individually or all together from a switch on the fourth floor, where your sepoys are quartered.”
“I know, Mr. Gilbert; I screen-viewed the whole installation. I’ve seen regular maximum-security prisons that would be easier to get out of.”
“Governor general Kovac is not objecting personally. He has been
