"I've made mistakes before. Often enough that I long since abandoned any ideas of infallibility. In lieu of that, I guard against all possibilities to the best of my abilities. Now, if you don't mind, could we start the interview? Even though I have tried to set aside time for this meeting, there are many demands on my time and I can't be sure how long we'll have before other priorities pull me away."
"Certainly. I guess the first question would be to ask why someone of your intelligence and abilities turned to the ways of War and world conquering as a way of life, rather than seeking a place in the established order?"
"Purely a matter of convenience. If you think for a moment, I'm sure you could think of several men both as intelligent and as ruthless as I in your so-called established order. As you pointed out, they have successfully risen to positions of power, wealth, and influence. I am not that much different than them, only I chose to move into a field where there was little or no competition. Why fight my way up a chain of command when, by taking one step sideways, I could form my own chain of command with me at the top, running things the way I felt they should be run from the start, instead of adapting someone else's system until I was high enough to make my presence felt."
"But why resort to terrorism and violence as a way of life? It seems a rather harsh way to extract a living from the universe."
"First tell me how you differentiate between what I and my forces do and the methodology of the Defense Alliance. As near as I can tell, we both make a living from violence and threats. I tell a planet they have to pay me a certain percentage of their resources as tribute, or I'll burn them to a crisp. The Defense Alliance tells them to pay a certain percentage of their resources in taxes to support the fleets or I'll burn them to a crisp. We're both exacting protection money on the threat of violence if they don't pay. Only when they do it, it's an accepted ‘police action within the established order.' When I do it, it's a ‘reign of terror.' Perhaps I am oversimplifying the situation, but I don't see that much difference between the two."
"Then you don't see anything wrong with what you're doing?"
"Please, Mr. Erickson. None of your journalistic tricks of putting words into my mouth. I did not say I don't see anything wrong in what I do, simply that I don't see that much difference between my own forces and tactics, and those of the Defense Alliance."
"Are you then asserting that in the current conflict that it is you who are the hero and the Defense Alliance the villains?"
"Mr. Erickson, I have asked you once. I will now warn you. Do not attempt to twist my words into quotes I have not said. If I make a statement or express an opinion you take exception to, you are, of course, welcome to comment to that effect, either in this meeting or in your article. However, do not attempt to condemn me with opinions which are not my own. I have shown my respect for you and your intelligence by granting this interview. Kindly return the compliment by remembering that in this interview you are not dealing with a dull-witted planetary sub-official and conducting yourself accordingly."
"Yes, sir. I'll remember that."
"See that you do. You did raise a curious point, however. The rather romantic concept of heroes and villains, good guys and bad guys. That's another reason I granted this interview. It stands out all over your writing, and I wanted to meet someone who really believes in heroes. In exchange, I offered you a chance to meet a villain."
"Well, actually. . . ."
"There are no heroes, Mr. Erickson, just as there are no villains." The Death Lord's voice was suddenly cold. "There are only humans. Men and women who alternately succeed and fail. If they are on your side and succeed, they're Heroes. If they're on the other side, they're Villains. It's as simple as that. Concepts such as Good and Evil exist only as rationalizations, an artificial logic to mask the true reasons for our feelings. There is no Evil. No one wakes up in the morning and says ‘I think I'll go out and do something rotten.' At the time, their actions are logical and beneficial to them. It's only after the fact, when things go awry, that they are credited with being Evil."
"Frankly, sir, I find that a little hard to accept."
"Of course. That's why you're here. So I could take this opportunity to show you another viewpoint than that which you are accustomed to. As a journalist, you are no doubt aware that in the course of my career I have been compared with Genghis Khan, Caesar, Napoleon, and Hitler, depending upon who was doing the comparing. Yet I believe that, if you could have interviewed any one of these men, he would tell you the same thing I am today, that there is no difference between the two sides of a battle, except the ‘Them and Us' concept. There may be racial, religious, cultural, or armament differences, but the only determination of who is the Hero and who is the Villain is the side he's on. That and who wins."
"Then what you are claiming is that this equality of opponents also applies to today's situation?"
"Especially today. Now that mankind has moved away from the bloodbath concept of war, it is easier than ever to observe. Despite the blood-curdling renditions of Space Warfare which adorn the news tapes and literature, actual combat is a rarity. It's far too costly in men and equipment, and there is no need. Each fleet has approximately four hundred ships of varying sizes and there are over two thousand inhabited solar systems. Even at the rate of one ship per solar system, there is always going to be over one half of the systems unoccupied. For either force to move on a new system means temporarily abandoning another system. As such, there is little or no combat between the fleets. The objective is to either move into unoccupied systems and divert their tribute into our coffers, or move into an occupied system with sufficient force to where the opposing ships will abandon the system rather than enter into a lopsided battle. It's a massive game of move and counter-move with little, if any, difference between the gamesmen."
"What about the inhabitants of the planets?"
"The civilians? What about them? Oh, you mean are they an important factor in the game? Not really. That's not so much cold-blooded as fact. With the current armament of the ships, one ship could easily wipe out an entire system planet by planet, if that was our aim. The planets themselves have little effective defense against a ship in orbit and no means of counterattack. However, that is not our aim, any more than it its that of the Defense Alliance. We both make a living by demanding a percentage of each planet's resources. If we burn them, we're only hurting ourselves. Even if we have to abandon a system, there is always the possibility of having a chance to win it back, so it's left as intact as possible. Again, both we and the Defense Alliance encourage non-resistance. We'd like nothing better than to have no resistance at all from the planets, no matter who they're fighting."
"Yet you do encounter resistance."
"Yes, both sides do occasionally, when there is a change of control. I've always found that puzzling. The rate of tribute doesn't change that much. Some feel it's because the civilians take the propaganda about loyalty more seriously than the fleets do. My own theory is that they may have already paid the month's tribute to one side and are resisting having to pay twice in one period."
"Yet you claim it is a bloodless war."
"Compared to the Old Wars, yes. The waste of men and machinery in those days was unbelievable. While we have our casualties, they can, usually, be counted on one hand. In today's war, the only time someone dies is by mistake, either his own or someone else's."
"Without counting civilians, of course. What about the times there is a battle? What about things like the incident at Zarn?"
There was a prolonged silence. Finally the reporter cleared his throat in preparation to speak, though whether to apologize for the question or to restate it, he had not completely made up his mind. But before he could organize his thoughts, much less put them into words, the voice of Tambu hailed him again from the speaker.
"Very well. You have given me a blunt question. I could give you an equally blunt answer. However, if I did, it would only be my word, which you seem reluct
ant to accept. Instead, I will allow you to judge for yourself. Open the second drawer from the top on your left."
The reporter did so, and found himself looking at a Tri*D headset and Keyboard, similar to one he would find in the editing office for a major news service.
"Usually, the Ship Log of any combat ship is considered classified and only edited portions are published, if that. In this case, however, I will allow you to view the uncensored tapes of the incident you questioned, which were salvaged from the wreckage of the battleship. They are from my personal files and have, to date, been viewed by none but myself. The action you are about to watch begins as the ship was preparing to launch its attack on Xoltan, the third smallest outpost in the system under dispute. In my opinion, it is here that all the pertinent action leading up to the incident at Zarn begins. If, after viewing it, you wish to see any earlier tapes, feel free to ask. When you're ready, key in the following tape reference. . . ."
The reporter donned the headset and keyed the code into the Tape Retrieval Unit. There was a momentary pause, and he was there! The Tri*D illusion was frighteningly realistic. He was in the Command Station of the Battleship, sitting behind a uniformed figure seated in a swivel Captain's Chair. As the figure turned to flip the switches activating the triple bank of viewscreens, the reporter recognized him as Podan, the soon-to-be infamous villain of intergalactic infamy. His appearance was startling, quite unlike the photos currently in circulation of him. All newsfile pictures either showed a uniformed figure braced in typical military arrogance or a flat, unemotional personnel picture which gave him the appearance of a convict. In contrast to this, the figure, or rather, the projection before the reporter was nervously animated. The features of his face were lined with worry, or possible fatigue, and he was constantly running his hands through his sparse hair, a habit apparently lingering from the days when the hair was more plentiful
"Weapons. Report!"
"Here, sir!" a young girl's face winked onto one of the view–screens.
"I said, report!"
"Yes, sir! All weapons on standby, as per your instructions." There was a hurt admonishment in the girl's voice.
"Good! Navigation!"
Another screen winked to life, revealing a male figure, older, with a startling shock of white hair.
"Yes, Po?"
"Is the position for attack on Xoltan entered in the computer?"
"Yes, Po."
"And the secondary unit?"
"Set with our current position for immediate retreat, as per your instructions. Come on, Po. . . ." The patient reproach was far more apparent in the Navigator's voice.
"Can it Phil. Communications!"
"Yes, sir!" The face of a smiling young man appeared on the third screen.
"Anything on the detectors?"
"No, sir." The smile faded to a look of mild annoyance. "If I might point out to the Captain, if anything was on the detectors, then by the Captain's own orders. . . ."
"All right, all right!" Podan interrupted. He heaved a great sigh and ran his fingers through his hair once more. "Okay, crew, listen up! I know I've been a bit jumpy lately and I've probably leaned on you more than was necessary. As you know, we've encountered rather unusual resistance in this system. We've already burned two of their outposts without the slightest sign of surrender from the system. Well, there is a strong chance that there is more involved here than stubbornness."
He paused, more out of reluctance to continue than for effect. The crew waited attentively. "Intelligence reports that there are three Defense Alliance scout ships currently stationed in this system. The captains are Elkhart, Set, and Yahnos, respectively."
The crew suddenly stiffened to attention in the viewscreens.
"That's right. The famous ‘Three Musketeers.' The pride of the Defense Alliance. Each of these captains is individually credited with blocking over a dozen efforts of Tambu's, either by combat or by trickery, and we are now faced with all three of them working as a team. It is my belief the system under attack has refrained from surrender primarily because these three have given their assurances that we can be stopped."
"Let 'em try!" the brash voice of the Communications man interjected. "Anyone fool enough to try to stop a battleship with three scouts is going to whish he hadn't."
"Don't bet on it, Benji. Theoretically, you're right. It's impossible. But bigger ships than ours have been stopped by these three, theories or not. They're quick to take advantage of overconfidence, and that's one edge we're not going to give them. Get me?"
"Yes, sir," replied the Junior Officer, properly mollified.
"Okay. Now patch me through to Tambu for final confirmation."
"Can I have a word with you while he establishes contact, Captain? Privately?" It was the Navigator.
"Sure, Phil. Benji, buzz me when you're ready."
With that, the Captain flipped two switches, and the Weapons and Communications screens went blank, leaving him "alone" with his navigator.
"Okay, Phil. What's up?"
"Po, I'd like to ask you to back away from this one."
"That's more than a bit out of line, Lieutenant! A junior officer can't—"
"I'm asking as your friend, Po. Back away from it."
The Captain sighed. For a moment, he seemed to almost shrink in stature and, when he spoke, his voice was tired.
"I can't, Phil. You know what happened before. . . ."
"Yes, I do. And that's exactly why I'm asking you to back off."
"But the orders clearly state—"
"Any Captain can halt a campaign at any point at his own discretion if, in his opinion, the situation warrants it!. That's in the book, too."
"At my own discretion! On what basis? Because I've tangled with them before and got walked on? For all we know, that's why we were assigned this campaign. Maybe that's why I was chosen to hit this system, instead of another captain who's only heard about those three by legend. Oh, don't worry. I'm not entertaining any delusions about my own skills. But I can't back out just because of their name before they've openly opposed us. I can't and I won't!"
"But dammit, Po. . . ."
A quiet buzz interrupted the argument. Immediately, Podan pivoted around and flipped a switch.
"Okay, Benji. Patch him through. I'm ready."
"Uh, Captain, we've got problems. I can't get through."
There was a frozen moment, then the Captain hit another switch, allowing the Navigator to hear and see the Communications man.
"Report, please."
"I said I can't get through to Tambu. Communications are blocked."
"Have you checked your Trans-gear?"
"Yes, sir. Twice! I've never seen anything like it. All equipment checks out perfectly, but I can't raise anyone."
"Settle down, Benji. Okay, now you're supposed to be some kind of genius with a squawk box. You tell me. If you wanted to jinx our Communications from outside the ship, completely shut us down, how would you do it?"
The youth gnawed his lip thoughtfully.
"Well, sir, the only way I see it could be done would be with a jamming buoy, maybe a series of them, between the ship and our relay station, but—"
"Then that's what they've done!"
"But, sir," insisted the youth, "to do that, they'd have to know our exact, well, at least our approximate location in the system, and that's impossible."
"Benji, the first thing you learn when dealing with opponents the caliber of these three we're up against is to forget the word ‘impossible,' because they do!"
"But why? I mean, what could they hope to accomplish by shutting down our Communications?"
The Captain sighed.
"If you can't figure it out, Benji, I don't have the time to explain it. Stand by for further instructions."
He smashed a switch down with his fist and the Communication screen went blank.
"Well, that's that!" contributed the Navigator.
"Shut up, Phil!"
"C'mon, Po. It's over! If final attack orders are not confirmed with Tambu, a ship is to break off the campaign and return to rendezvous. You know the standing orders as well as I do. For all we know, the system has surrendered."
The Captain slumped in his chair.
"You're right, Phil. But, damn, it galls me. You and I both know it's their countermove. They're using our own regulations to knock us out of the campaign."
"As neat a checkmate as I've ever seen," agreed the Navigator, "but unless you see an out, I don't. We're stuck! Shall I calculate the Phase-Shifts to rendezvous?"
"First, let me see the charts showing our position."
"C'mon Po, you're stalling."
"Lieutenant! I want to see those charts."
"Okay, Po, we'll do it your way."
In the viewscreen, the Navigator turned to a Retrieval Keyboard. He lazily punched a series of keys and his image was replaced by a highly-detailed star chart criss-crossed with luminous lines and speckled with military symbols. The Captain glowered at it for many long moments, then suddenly his body stiffened. Half rising from his seat, he craned his neck forward to examine the chart more closely.
"Phil!"
"Yes, Po."
"What's the dotted red line?"
There was a brief pause.
"Uh . . . the blue line is our course to dated in this system . . . and the green is the rendezvous zone."
"I know how to read a star chart! I asked you a question! What is the dotted red line?"
"That's, um, that's our anticipated course if the mission continues."
"But I haven't issued orders yet on our future course! When did you plot this line?"
"As soon as were assigned to this system."
"But how did you know our course in advance?"
"C'mon, Po. Recommended procedure is no big secret. We start with the smallest uninhabited planet with a manned outpost and work our way up to the largest. Then, if they haven't surrendered, we start on the inhabited planets in the same pattern of smallest to largest. I just applied recommended procedure to the data on this system and presto! I've got our course."
MYTH-Interpretations: The Worlds of Robert Asprin Page 10
