by Mike Resnick
It was at that point that Cartright intervened and insisted upon a more equitable distribution of political power. Bobby countered, not unreasonably, that if Cartright could find, for example, a Rizzali or a Traja who knew more about agricultural production or economics than his Secretaries of Agriculture and the Treasury, he would be happy to replace them. They laboriously went through a list compiled by the other tribes, and finally came up with a cabinet composed of ten Enkoti and six non-Enkoti.
This did not sit well with the other tribes, but then Cartright and Bobby made a joint pronouncement that within five years the cabinet would be representative of the population as a whole, and that in the meantime it was essential that the tribes send their best and their brightest to Sabare University in Romulus. And, since it had been decreed not only by the President, but even more importantly, by the Men who gave him his orders, they had no choice but to comply.
The next problem was the moles, which proved not to be a problem at all. Most of them had signed three and five-year contracts, and when the contracts were up, about half of them elected not to renew them, though most of them chose to remain on the planet, and many sent for their families (which, in mole society, could number up to fifty.) At first Cartright feared that supporting them would put an unnecessary financial burden on the planet and cause resentment among the jasons, but the moles had no intention of not supporting themselves, or of competing with the jasons for various menial jobs. With the advent of a monied economy, there was an urgent need for shopkeepers, and the moles soon were entrenched as Faligor's merchant class, setting up shops in all the major population centers and even out in the hinterlands, importing goods not just from their own world but from many of the nearby worlds of the Republic, and indeed forming the tax base from which the planetary government drew most of its revenues. They were a serious, industrious race, and as the jasons, faced with the absence of a barter economy, began applying for work in the mines, more and more of the moles joined their brethren in the merchant sector.
As tourism boomed, the last few private hunting preserves were banned, and off-worlders arrived with nothing but holographic cameras instead of weapons. The five major game reserves, run primarily by fanatically dedicated Men and assisted by jasons, soon began pulling business away from Peponi and even Serengeti. Luxury lodges accommodated the visitors, and it was said that there was no planet in the galaxy that could match the richness of Faligor's wildlife.
Bobby began spending more time on other worlds, ostensibly to solicit investment in Faligor, though he spent more time playing than working, but as Cartright noted, it was probably for the best, since it forced the government to function without him, and he had never been overly interested in the workings of government to begin with.
And, a handful of years after they left the planet for schooling within the Republic, a number of the jasons returned home. Most of them were Enkoti, but a few of them weren't, and of that few, the most brilliant of them was a middle-aged jason who had taken the human name of William to go with his tribal name of Barioke. He was a Rizzali, and unlike most of the others of his race, he had gone to school not on a human world, but rather on the world of Canphor VI, which over the millennia had revolted three different times against human rule, and was currently the leader of a loosely-knit federation of non-human worlds that had ceased all intercourse with the Republic.
Whereas Emperor Bobby wanted nothing more than to join the Republic as a full partner, William Barioke wanted total independence from the Republic. He had no intention of turning down any aid the Republic might continue to give, he didn't want to break off relations with it, but he found the status of Protectorate to be demeaning, and the advantages of being a member world to be minimal. He had made contacts within the Canphorites, and saw no reason not to deal with both sides; he would let the Republic and the Canphor Federation bid for his loyalty (which, as he explained to his people, was never for sale, a fact that he felt would in no way inhibit the bidding.)
The one thing on which Barioke and Bobby were in total agreement was that Men had totally underestimated their ability to handle their own affairs. Barioke saw no reason to allow Men to assist in the running of Faligor's affairs. After all, he argued, the ultimate goal of everyone involved, whether the planet became a member of the Republic or an independent entity, was self-rule, and the sooner it was begun the better. He lobbied the Rizzali, he lobbied the rest of the jasons, he lobbied the Men who lived and worked on the planet, he even lobbied the moles—but most of all, he lobbied Emperor Bobby.
Finally, Bobby agreed to make two public appearances with Barioke, in both of which he gave his approval to the notion of immediate self-rule, which was followed by Barioke's impassioned oratory. It was after the second rally that Beddoes requested an audience with him.
It took her a week to be ushered into his presence, since he had been spent the intervening days partying on nearby Beta Lemoris III, but finally she found herself sitting across a desk from the Emperor, who looked none the worse for wear for all the traveling he had done lately. From the paintings and holographs on the wall, the shape of the desk and chairs, the carpeting on the floor, she would never have guessed that she was in an alien's office had she not known otherwise.
"How nice to see you again, Susan," said Bobby, his golden fur rippling as he shot her an ingratiating smile. "How goes your insect collecting?"
I'll give you this: you're every inch a politician, she thought, not without a touch of admiration.
"Arthur Cartright has asked me to speak to you, your majesty," she replied.
"And how is my old friend Arthur doing?" he asked. "I haven't seen him for months."
"He's very busy these days," she replied. "We've opened up another dozen mining worlds this year."
"Tell him to come to Faligor for a vacation," suggested Bobby.
"Faligor is never far from his mind," answered Beddoes. "In fact, I'm here at his request."
"Ah," he said, and suddenly his face looked more like an unhappy puppy than a jason or a Man. "The speeches."
"He feels that you're giving your people expectations that cannot be realized," said Beddoes.
"Ever?" asked Bobby sharply.
"In the immediate future," said Beddoes. "Furthermore, you have aligned yourself with a very capable politician who has no desire whatsoever to join the Republic."
"He's just a Rizzali rabble-rouser," replied Bobby, with a shrug—unique to his species—that started at his cranium and slowly rippled his golden fleece all the way down to his three-toed feet.
"Then why associate with him?"
"Because he's a very popular rabble-rouser, and I am the President of all my people."
"He is very dangerous, your majesty," said Beddoes.
"I have every intention of assimilating him into my government, where he will be given some official function and never be heard from again," Bobby assured her. "But in the meantime, he and I happen to agree that things are moving too slowly. We really should not have to come to you, hat in hands, to beg for self-rule. We had it before you landed on our planet. We never gave it away, so why should we have to debase ourselves to get it back?"
"I fail to see how educating your people, expanding your economy, vaccinating your children, and showing you how best to make use of your natural resources constitutes debasement," said Beddoes.
"I don't doubt that you fail to see it," responded Bobby. "Probably this is because no one has ever given your race orders."
"Everything we have suggested—and we have suggested, not ordered—has been for Faligor's benefit, your majesty."
"Nevertheless, we resent being denied self-rule. On that point, Barioke and I think as one."
"It is possible that the length of time you remain a protectorate can be shortened," said Beddoes, "but not if you ally yourself with Barioke."
"He is a very astute political thinker," said Bobby.
"He's too smart by half."
"He fri
ghtens you, does he?" asked Bobby, amused.
"Nothing frightens the Republic," answered Susan. "But he should frighten you, your majesty."
Bobby laughed again. "He is just a Rizzali."
"You know that the size of the Rizzali army has tripled since he returned from the Canphor system."
"All of the countries of Faligor have armies," said Bobby dismissively.
"Why?" asked Beddoes. "The jasons only own seven spaceships, and four of them are yours. What worlds do you plan to go to war with?"
"Let me assuage your doubts, Susan," said Bobby with a smile. "The armies are just for show, and to protect our territorial borders. As for the Rizzali army, it is a joke, commanded by the biggest clown of all."
"Prego Katora is no clown," Beddoes pointed out. "He graduated from one of the finest military academies on Deluros VIII."
"Prego Katora no longer commands the Rizzali army," answered Bobby.
"No?"
"Do you remember the boxing match I sponsored some time back?"
"Yes," said Beddoes warily. "What of it?"
"Do you remember Gama Labu, the jason who beat your champion?"
"Yes."
"Well, it is Labu, with the body of a self-indulgent giant and the intellect of a child, who is now in charge of Barioke's army." Bobby threw back his head and laughed. "Labu, who cannot even spell his name! If you were to tell him the enemy was gathering to the east, he would probably launch an attack on the Hills of Heaven. Now do you see why Barioke does not worry me?"
"I think you have more to fear than you realize, your majesty," said Beddoes sincerely.
"Because of Labu?" he said disbelievingly.
"There is something frightening about him," said Beddoes. "Something alien."
"Am I not an alien to you?" asked Bobby, amused.
"We are different species, but we hold certain basic principles in common. I think there is something about Gama Labu that is alien to all those things that we both cherish."
"And you base this on the fact that you saw him beat a human fighter in the ring?"
She shook her head. "No," she said slowly. "It is just a feeling I have about him."
"He is a clown," reasserted Bobby. "A great big clown. Always telling jokes, always drinking, always laughing loudest when he is the object of other people's jokes. He became a hero overnight when he defeated Billy Wycynski, and that doubtless caused his elevation to his current position, but nothing could be better for my purposes. In effect, it renders the Rizzali army useless. I will appropriate as much of William Barioke's support as I can, elevate him to a government position where I can control him, disband his army, and steer my people on a swift course that will culminate in self-rule."
"I think you are making a serious mistake, your majesty."
Bobby chuckled. "The day I can't control William Barioke is the day I'll retire from office and devote myself to a life of parties and sports."
I hope you'll tell us when it happens, so we'll know the difference, thought Beddoes caustically. Aloud, she said, "I cannot overstress the seriousness of the situation, your majesty."
"Certainly you can," said Bobby. "In fact, you already have."
"Arthur Cartright has empowered me to say that we will not support your alliance with Barioke, or your attempt to speed up the carefully-planned schedule for self-rule."
"Of course he'll support us," said Bobby. "Faligor is his noble experiment, the shining example upon which he has staked his reputation. How would it look if I toured the Republic complaining about the Department of Cartography's repression, or turned Gama Labu loose on your handful of military advisors, always assuming that he could find them?" Bobby grinned. "What would he do then, Susan? Call for the Navy he so despises to pacify us, as they have pacified so many other worlds?" He paused. "Arthur has his deadlines, and I have mine—and on my world, mine take precedence. I think Arthur had better get used to the idea that Faligor will be ruling itself within the next two years."
Beddoes stared at him silently, thinking about what she had heard.
"Come, come, Susan," he said easily. "Have you nothing to say?"
"I'm in an awkward position, your majesty," she replied. "I have delivered Arthur Cartright's message to you. To say anything further would be to exceed my authority." She paused, undecided. "And yet I have some things I very much want to say."
"I will consider all remarks to be confidential," answered Bobby.
She considered his offer for a moment, then sighed. "All right," she said. "You have us over a barrel, your majesty. Under no circumstances will Cartright call in the Navy. If you push for immediate self-rule hard enough, he'll have to agree to it."
"Your words will not leave my office," Bobby assured her. "No one will ever claim that Susan Beddoes was the first Man to yield to our demands."
She shook her head. "I don't care if that leaves your office or not. The truth of it is self-evident. You know and I know and Arthur knows that he won't use force against you."
"Then what is it you wished to say?" asked Bobby.
Beddoes again considered keeping silent, but finally decided to speak. "You are doubtless going to have a planetary vote on self-rule," she began.
"Certainly."
"And it will win overwhelmingly."
"I would assume so."
"Your first order of business will be to elect a planetary government," she continued, "and I assume you will be running for the Presidency."
"That is my intention," said Bobby.
"If there is any chance whatsoever that William Barioke will run against you," she said, staring directly into his eyes, "I think you should do everything in your power to see that such an eventuality does not come to pass."
"You make it sound positively sinister," said Bobby, once again amused. "Would you care to define 'everything'?"
"I would not, your majesty. I would merely urge it."
Bobby got to his feet, signifying that the meeting was over.
"I am the acting President of Faligor, descended from three hundred sitates," he said, walking her to the ornate door of his office. "William Barioke is merely a Rizzali who I have chosen to use for my own political ends. Still," he added, "I thank you for your concern. When the election is over, I will remember who my friends are."
"I just hope you remember who your enemies are before the election is held," said Beddoes sincerely.
5.
The election was held 22 months later. The people of Faligor, as expected, voted overwhelmingly for self-rule.
Despite Cartography's opposition—or possibly because of it—William Barioke was elected President over Robert August Tantram II by a margin of 53 percent to 47 percent. As a gesture of goodwill and solidarity, the winner created the office of Prime Minister for the loser.
And Susan Beddoes took a long look at the rolling grassy plains outside her window and the fog-shrouded Hills of Heaven off in the distance, and decided that it was time to think of leaving the Diamond of the Outer Frontier and returning to the worlds of the Republic.
Part 2:
GLASS
INTERLUDE
You wander through the streets, past the ruins of the notorious Government Science Bureau, the smell of the dying and the dead heavy in the air. You can see the green savannah between the frames of two burnt-out houses, stretching all the way to the so-called Hills of Heaven, and you wonder if a single living thing exists anywhere within your field of vision.
It's difficult to remember that Johnny Ramsey once wandered those plains, hunting animals for the natural history museum back on Deluros VIII, that Sabare University was once considered the finest alien seat of learning on the Outer Frontier, that Men and jasons and moles lived and worked in peace and tranquility not fifty yards from where you are standing.
Oh, you've heard the stories, read the headlines, seen holographs of the slaughter—but that was all about some incredibly distant world gone mad, it had no relevance to you. Now you're here
, and try as you might, you can't imagine how it came to pass.
Did no one see what was coming? Were no voices raised in protest? If the jasons didn't care, what about the thousands of Men who had made this their home? Wasn't there a day, an hour, a moment, when one of them could have stood up and said, "Stop! This far and no farther!"
And where was the Republic during this descent into hell? It opened the world, educated the people, taught them farming and mining and commerce and the complexities of government. How could it just turn its back and pretend nothing was happening?
Good questions, all. But the one you keep coming back to is this: How did it all begin? . . .
6.
There were problems right from the start.
Since Emperor Bobby had erected enough modern buildings in Romulus to house a government, William Barioke, rather than spending the money to build a new capitol, simply appropriated Romulus for his own. Within a month of the election, the opera house had been converted into the parliament, the theater into the High Court, the two largest tourist hotels into government offices, and Bobby's own house became the Presidential Mansion.
Soon Romulus, which had been populated almost exclusively by Men and the Enkoti, was overrun with members of the Rizzali, most of whom were working for the government. Bobby protested to Arthur Cartright, who explained that the emperor had insisted on self-rule and would now have to live with the consequences of his actions.
After a few months of lobbying without success, Bobby decided to move the Prime Minister's offices to Remus, some fifty miles away. He paid for a new mansion with his own funds, but managed to raise the money for a new theater and sports complex from Men and moles, and within less than a year Remus had replaced Romulus as the cultural center of Faligor, and most of the commerce moved there as well.
