“Then, there’s contagious magic. Anything that’s been part of anything else or come in contact with it will interact permanently with it. I wish I had a sol for every time I’ve seen a Kwann pull the wad out of a shot-shell, pick up a pinch of dirt from the footprint of some animal he’s tracking, put it in among the buckshot, and then crimp the wad in again.
“Everything a Kwann does has some sort of magical implications. It’s the shoonoo’s business to know all this; to be able to tell just what magical influences have to be produced, and what influences must be avoided. And there are circumstances in which magic simply will not work, even in theory. The reason is that there is some powerful counter-influence at work. He has to know when he can’t use magic, and he has to be able to explain why. And when he’s theoretically able to do something by magic, he has to have a plausible explanation why it won’t produce results—just as any highly civilized and ethical Terran M.D. has to be able to explain his failures to the satisfaction of his late patient’s relatives. Only a shoonoo doesn’t get sued for malpractice; he gets a spear stuck in him. Under those circumstances, a caste of hereditary magicians is literally bred for quick thinking. These old gaffers we have aboard are the intellectual top crust among the natives. Any of them can think rings around your Government school products. As for preying on the ignorance and credulity of the other natives, they’re only infinitesimally less ignorant and credulous themselves. But they want to learn—from anybody who can gain their respect by respecting them.”
Edith Shaw didn’t say anything in reply. She was thoughtful during the rest of the meal, and when they were back on the observation deck he noticed that she seemed to be looking at the shoonoon with new eyes.
In the screen-views of Bluelake, Beta had already set, and the sky was fading; stars had begun to twinkle. There were more fires—one, close to the city in the east, a regular conflagration—and fighting had broken out in the native city itself. He was wishing now, that he hadn’t thought it necessary to use those screens. The shoonoon were noticing what was going on in them, and talking among themselves. Travis, after one look at the situation, hurried back to the bridge to make a screen-call. After a while, he returned, almost crackling with suppressed excitement.
“Well, it’s finally happened! Maith’s forced Kovac to declare martial rule!” he said in an exultant undertone.
“Forced him?” Edith was puzzled. “The Army can’t force the Civil Government—”
“He threatened to do it himself. Intervene and suspend civil rule.”
“But I thought only the Navy could do that.”
“Any planetary commander of Armed Forces can, in a state of extreme emergency. I think you’ll both agree that this emergency is about as extreme as they come. Kovac knew that Maith was unwilling to do it—he’d have to stand court-martial to justify his action—but he also knew that a governor general who has his Colony taken away from him by the Armed Forces never gets it back; he’s finished. So it was just a case of the weaker man in the weaker position yielding.”
“Where does this put us?”
“We are a civilian scientific project. You are under orders of General Maith. I am under your orders. I don’t know about Edith.”
“Can I draft her, or do I have to get you to get General Maith to do it?”
“Listen, don’t do that,” Edith protested. “I still have to work for Government House, and this martial rule won’t last forever. They’ll all be prejudiced against me—”
“You can shove your Government job on the air lock,” Miles told her. “You’ll have a better one with Planetwide News, at half again as much pay. And after the shakeup at Government House, about a year from now, you may be going back as director of E.E.T.A. When they find out on Terra just how badly this Government has been mismanaging things there’ll be a lot of vacancies.”
The shoonoon had been watching the fighting in the viewscreens. Then somebody noticed that the spot of light on the navigational globe was approaching a coastline, and they all rushed forward for a look.
Travis and Edith slept for a while; when they returned to relieve him, Alpha was rising to the east of Bluelake, and the fighting in the city was still going on. The shoonoon were still wakeful and interested; Kwanns could go without sleep for much longer periods than Terrans. The lack of any fixed cycle of daylight and darkness on their planet had left them unconditioned to any regular sleeping-and-waking rhythm.
“I just called in,” Travis said. “Things aren’t good, at all. Most of the natives in the evacuee cantonments have gotten into the native city, now, and they’ve gotten hold of a lot of firearms somehow. And they’re getting nasty in the west, beyond where Gonzales is occupying, and in the northeast, and we only have about half enough troops to cope with everything. The general wants to know how you’re making out with the shoonoon.”
“I’ll call him before I get in the sack.”
He went up on the bridge and made the call. General Maith looked as sleepy as he felt;
