Ramri peered into the viewscreen. Lightning had given way to the stars. “My friend,” he said, and hesitated.
“Yes?” Donnan asked.
“I think—” The troubled voice faded. “I think we had best change course again.” The Monwaingi touched controls. They were depending on random vectors to elude pursuit. After all, space was big and the Kandemirian defenses had been designed to halt things that moved planetward, not starward.
“That isn’t what you were getting at,” Donnan said.
“No.” Decision came. Ramri straightened until his profile jutted across the constellations. “Carl-my-friend, I offer apology. But many years have passed since I saw my own people. I am the only one here who can read enough Erzhuat to pilot this vessel. I shall take us to Katkinu.”
“Shucks, pal,” Donnan said. “I expected that. Go right ahead.” His tone roughened. “I’d like a few words with your leaders anyway.”
X
A nation, to be successful, should change its tactics every ten years.
—Napoleon
FOR a moment, when his gaze happened to dwell on the horizon, Donnan thought he was home again. Snowpeaks afloat in serene blue, purple masses and distances that shaded into a thousand greens as the valley floor rolled nearer, the light of a yellow sun and the way cloud shadows raced across the world, wind blustering in sky and trees, woke him from a nightmare in which Earth had become a cinder.
He thought confusedly that he was a boy, footloose in the Appalachians; he had slept in a hayloft and this dawn the farmer’s daughter kissed him good-by at the mailbox, which was overgrown with morning glory . . . a night that stung descended on his eyes.
Ramri glanced at him, once, and then concentrated on steering the groundrunner.
After his years on Earth and in space, the avian found it a little disconcerting to ride on the chair-like humps of a twenty-foot, eightlegged mammaloid and control it by touching spots that were nerve endings. Such vehicles had been obsolescent on Katkinu even when he left. The paragrav boats that flitted overhead were more to Tantha liking. But today he and Donnan were bound from his home to the Resident, who was of the Laothaung Society. Paying a formal call on a high official from that culture, and arriving in dead machinery, would have been an insult.
After a while, Donnan mastered himself. He fumbled with his pipe. The devil take tobacco rationing . . . just now . . . especially since Ramri assured him that the creation of an almost identical leaf would be simple for any genetic engineer on any Monwaingi planet. When he had it lit, he paid close attention to nearby details. Katkinu was not Earth. Absolutely not. And he’d better fix that squarely in his head.
Even to the naked eye, the similarities of grass and foliage and flowers were superficial. Biochemical analysis showed how violently those life forms differed from himself. He had needed antiallergen shots before he could even leave the space flitter and step on Katkinuan soil. The odors blown down the wind were spicy, mostly pleasant, but like nothing he had ever known at home. Along this road (paved, if that was the word, with a thick mossy growth, intensely green) walked blue parrot-faced creatures carrying odd-shaped tools and bundles. Houses, widely scattered, each surrounded by trees and a brilliant garden, were themselves vegetable: giant growths shaped like barrel cacti, whose hollow interiors formed rooms of nacreous beauty. A grainfield was being cultivated by shambling octopoids, mutated and bred for one purpose—like the thing on which he rode.
Yeah, he thought, I get the idea. These people aren’t human. Even Ramri, who sings Mozart themes and has Justice Holmes for a hero—Ramri, about the most simpatico guy I ever met—he’s not human. He came back to his wife and kids after eight years or whatever it was, and he might simply have stepped around the corner for a beer.
Of course, Donnan’s mind rambled on, that’s partly cultural. The Tantha civilization puts a premium on individualism. The family isn’t quite that loose in the other Monwaingi Societies, I reckon. But no human anywhere could have been that casual about a long separation, when obviously they’re an affectionate couple. Ramri did say to me once, his species doesn’t have a built-in sex drive like ours. When the opposite sex is out of sight, it really and truly is out of mind. Nevertheless—!
Or was I just missing the nuances? Did a few words and a hug accomplish as much for Ramri and his wife as Alison and I could’ve gotten across in a week?
—If I’d ever given Alison the chance.
HE said quickly: “You’d better put me straight on the situation here. I’m still vague on details. As I understand your system, each planet colonized by your people has a governor general from Monwaing, the mother world. Right?”
Ramri scratched his crest.
“Well, no,” he answered. “Or yes.
A semantic question. And not one that can ever be resolved fully. After all, since Resident Wandwai is a Laothaungi, he speaks another language from mine, lives under different laws and customs, enjoys art forms strange to me. So what he understands by the term Subo—‘Resident,’ you say—is not identical with what a Tantha like myself understands. Such differences are sometimes subtle, sometimes gross, but always present. He doesn’t even use the same phonetic symbols.”
“Huh? I never realized—I mean, I assumed you’d at least agree on an alphabet and number signs.”
“Oh, no. Some Societies do, to be sure. But Laothaung, for instance, which makes calligraphy a major art, finds our Tantha characters hideous. All Monwaingi writing does go from left to right, like English or Erzhuat, and not from right to left like Japanese or Vorlakka. But otherwise there is considerable variation from Society to Society. Likewise with mathematical ideograms. Naturally, any cultured person tries to become familiar with the language and traditions of the more important foreign Societies. Wandwai speaks fluent Tanthai. But I fear I am quite ignorant of Laothaungi. My interests were directed elsewhere than the arts.
In that, I am typical of this planet Katkinu. We Tanthai have taken far more interest in physical science and technology than most other Monwaingi civilizations. Some, in fact, have found such innovations extremely repugnant. But physics proved welcome to the Tanthai world-view.”
“HEY,” Donnan objected, “your people must have had some physics even before the galactics discovered Monwaing. Otherwise you could never have developed these systematic plant and animal mutations, let alone build spaceships yourselves.”
“Yes, yes. There was considerable theoretical physics on Monwaing when the Uru explorers arrived. And it found a certain amount of practical application. The emphasis lay elsewhere, though. Your recent development on Earth was almost a mirror image of Monwaing two centuries past. You knew far more biological theory than you had yet put into engineering practice, because your intellectual and economic investments were already heaviest in physical, inanimate matter. Our situation was the reverse.”
“This is getting too deep for me,” Donnan said. “I’ll never comprehend your setup. Especially as it was before you got space travel. I can see your different civilizations these days, scattering out to new planets where they aren’t bothered by unlike neighbors. But how did totally different cultures ever coexist in the same geographical area?”
“They still do, on Monwaing,” Ramri said. “For that matter, several other Societies have planted colonies of their own here on Katkinu. Tantha merely has a majority.” He pointed out a cluster of buildings, tall garishly colored cylinders erected in steel and plastic, half a mile off the road. The avians walking between them wore embroidered jackets over their feathers. “That is a Kodau village, for example. I suppose you could best describe them as religious communists. They don’t bother us and we don’t bother them. I admit, such peace was slowly and painfully learned. If we never had major wars on Monwaing, we had far more local flareups than you humans. But eventually methods were developed for arbitrating disputes. That is what a nation was, with us—a set of public technical services, jointly maintained. And peacekeeping is only another technology, n
o more mysterious than agronomy or therapeutics. Once that idea caught on, it was simple.
HE cocked an eye at Donnan, decided the man still needed to be soothed, and continued reciting the banal and obvious historical facts.
“To be sure, as proximity and mutual influence grew, the various cultures were losing their identities. Space travel came as a savior. Now we have elbow room again. We can experiment without upsetting the balance between ourselves and our intermingled neighbor Societies. And fresh, new influences have come from space to invigorate us.
“Really, Carl-my-friend, despite our many talks in the past, I do not believe you know what an impact Terrestrial ideas have had on the Monwaingi. You benefited us not simply by selling us raw materials and machine parts and so on—your engineers, in effect, working cheaper than ours for the sake of learning modern techniques. But you presented us with your entire philosophy. Tantha in particular had looked upon itself as rather reactionary and anti-scientific. You made us realize that technology per se did not conflict with our world-view. Only biological technology. The inherent callousness of manipulating life.” His gesture at the beast they rose was eloquent, like a man’s grimace.
“That ruthlessness was spreading into the psychotechnical field too,” he went on. “In other Societies, talk was being heard of adjusting the personality to suit—like the genes of any domestic animal! Such concepts alarmed us. Yet if we Tantha failed to keep pace with innovation, we would dwindle, impotent . . . Then, suddenly, on Earth and especially in America, we found a socioeconomic system based on physics rather than biology. It was less subtle, perhaps, than the traditional Monwaingi approach; but potentially it was of far greater power. . . and humaneness. We were eager to adopt what we had seen. Do you know, even I am astounded at how far change has progressed on Katkinu in my absence. Why, in my own house, fluorescent panels. When I left, glowfly globes were still the only artificial light. And that is a trivial example. I tell you, your species has inspired my Society.”
“Thanks,” Donnan grunted.
Humans couldn’t have had such a history, he thought. Maybe the vilayet system of the Ottoman Empire had approximated it, but not very closely. No human culture had ever experimented with radical social change and not paid a heavy emotional price. Think how many psychiatrists had been practicing in the U.S.A., or walk down any American street and count on one hand the people who actually looked as if they enjoyed life.
To a Monwaingi, though, change came natural. They didn’t need roots the way men did. Possibly their quasi-instinctive rituals of music and dance, universal and timeless, gave the individual that sense of security and meaningfulness which a human got from social traditions.
No help here for the last Earthmen, Donnan thought wearily. We’ve got to find our own planet and start up our own way of life again. If we can have kids who’ll get some benefit from our trouble. Otherwise, to hell with it. Too much like work.
RAMRI made an embarrassed, piping noise. “Er . . . we seem to have wandered over half the Galaxy in this discussion,” he said. “You started asking what Resident Wandwai and his staff do. Well, he represents the mother world, and thus the whole coalition of our planets and Societies. He administers the arbitration service. And, these days, he is a military liaison officer. You know that the Kandemirian menace requires each Society to maintain spatial defense forces. The central government on Monwaing coordinates their activities as needed, through the Resident on each colonial world.”
Also, Donnan reflected, the central government on Monwaing operates some damned efficient cold-war type diplomacy, espionage, and general intriguing. Yes, I
do think we had to come to one of these planets and talk with one of their big wheels.
“I know each Society has spokesmen on Monwaing,” he said. “But does each one have an equal voice in policy?”
“A shrewd question,” Ramri approved. “No, certainly not. How could the primitivistic Maudwai or the ultra-pacifistic Bodantha find ways to keep Kandemir from gobbling up our scattered planets? The handling of foreign affairs and defense gravitates naturally toward members of the most powerful cultures, notably Laothaung and Thesa. We Tanthai are not unrepresented. Still, we tend to be explorers and traders rather than admirals and ambassadors . . . You needn’t worry about etiquette or protocol today. Resident Wandwai won’t expect you to know such fine points. Talk as plainly as you wish. He was so quick to grant your request for an interview that I am sure he is also anxious for it.”
Donnan nodded and puffed his pipe in silence. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and by now, like his whole crew, had learned patience. If they must zigzag clear into the Libra region, a hundred light-years closer to Earth than Vorlak was, and then cool their heels for days or weeks in the Monwaingi sector of space, why quibble over the extra hour this beastie took to carry him where he was going? The time wasn’t really wasted, even. At least, Goldspring and his helpers were drafting some gadgets with awesome potentialities.
SOONER or later, if he didn’t get killed first, Donnan would find who had murdered Earth and exact a punishment. But no hurry about that. He smoked, watched the landscape go by, and thought his own thoughts. Now and then, as on this ride today, he had some bad moments. But in general, he had begun to be able to remember Earth with more love than pain.
The trill jarred him to alertness. “We approach.”
He stared about. The ground-runner was passing through an avenue of grotesquely pollarded trees, whose shapes kept altering as the wind tossed and roared in them. On either side lay terraced gardens whose forms and hues were like some he recognized from dreams. Directly ahead rose an outsize building . . . no, a grove of house-trees, vines, hedges, cascading from a matted-together roof to a fluidly stirring portico. The music that wailed in an alien scale seemed to originate within those live walls. He had seen nothing like this on Katkinu. But naturally, if the Resident belonged to a different culture from the Tanthai—
A dwarfish being took charge of the groundrunner. The being’s eyes were vacant and it could only respond to Ramri’s simplest commands. Another organic machine; but Donnan was shocked at its obviously Monwaingi descent. Planned devolution went rather further than chattel slavery had ever done on Earth. No wonder the Tanthai wanted to get away from biotechnology.
He climbed down the vehicle’s extended foreleg and followed Ramri into the portico. Three soldiers stood on guard, armed with tommy guns adapted from a Terrestrial pattern as well as with fungus grenades. Ramri and they exchanged intricate courtesies. One of them conducted the visitors along a rustling archway, where sunlight came and went in quick golden flecks, and so to an office.
That room was more familiar, its walls the mother-of-pearl grain of dukaung wood, the desk and sitting-frame like any furniture in Ramri’s home. But Donnan could not recognize the calligraphic symbols burned into the ceiling. Resident Wandwai of Laothaung made a stately gesture which sent Ramri into a virtual dance. Donnan stood aside, watching his host.
Wandwai belonged to a different race as well as another civilization. His feathers were almost black, eyes green, beak less strongly curved and body stockier than Ramri’s. Besides the usual purse at the neck, he wore golden bands twining up his shanks.
FORMALITIES past, the Resident offered Ramri a cigar and lit one for himself. He invited Donnan to sit on top of the desk while he and the space pilot relaxed in frames. “I wish I could give you refreshment, Captain,” he said in fluent Uru. “But poisoning you would be poor hospitality.”
“Thanks anyway,” Donnan said.
“Since the first news of your arrival here, I have been eager to see you,” Wandwai continued. “However, custom forced me to wait until you requested this meeting. My custom, I mean; it would have been impolite for a Tantha not to issue an invitation. In the absence of knowledge about your own preferences, I decided to abide by Laothaungi usage.”
“I should think military business would take precedence over company mann
ers,” Donnan said.
“Military? Why so? Earth never achieved any military importance.”
Donnan swallowed hurt and anger. A Tantha wouldn’t have spoken so cruelly. Doubtless Wandwai didn’t realize—yes, the Laothaungi having a biotechnical orientation, they would indeed be more hardboiled than average—“We escaped from Kandemir’s .main advanced base,” the human pointed out. “Didn’t you expect we’d have information?” He paused, hoping for an impressive effect. “Like the fact that Earth was getting a bit involved in the war.”
“I presume you refer to the pact between Vorlak and that one Terrestrial nation. Really, Captain, we knew about that before the papers were even signed. Monwaingi agents were everywhere on your planet, remember.” Wandwai stopped and considered his words. Donnan wished he could read expressions or interpret shadings of tone. “We did not like that treaty,” the Resident admitted. “The eventual Kandemirian response to such provocation could be ominous to us, whose scattered planets have an Earthward flank with no defense or buffer in between. We withdrew as many of our people from Earth as we could.”
“I heard about that withdrawal from some of Ramri’s friends, the other day,” Donnan said rather grimly.
“Not that we expected immediate trouble in that area,” Wandwai said. “But it seemed well to play safe . . . especially since the coming upset of the uneasy power balance among Terrestrial nations might bring on a general internecine war. I regret that so few Tanthai listened to the central government’s warnings and came home before Earth perished. Other cultures had fewer but wiser people there.”
You arrogant bastard! Donnan flared in himself.
WANDWAI disarmed him by letting the cigar droop in his delicate fingers and saying at once, low and like a threnody: “Forgive any unintentional offense on my part, captain. I know, to a very small degree, what a sorrow you have suffered. Can we Monwaingi in any way offer help or consolation, call on us as your first and best friends. The news that Earth had been sterilized sent a wave of horror through us. No one believed the Kandemirian denial of guilt. The Monwaingi coalition has, ever since, been aiding Vorlak far more heavily than before. Independent planets such as Unya and Yann tremble on the brink of declaring war; one hopeful sign that Kandemir can be defeated will decide them. Vassal worlds like T’sjuga have seen local revolts, which can probably be developed into full-scale insurrections. You know what a threat Kandemir is. By thus stirring the whole cluster to action, Earth has not died in vain.”
The Day After Doomsday Page 10
