VI.
The Bad News Came After the Coffee
The last clatter of silverware and dishes ceased as the nativeservants finished clearing the table. There was a remaining clatter ofcups and saucers; liqueur-glasses tinkled, and an occasionalcigarette-lighter clicked. At the head table, the voices seemedlouder.
"... don't like it a millisol's worth," Brigadier-General BarneyMordkovitz, the Skilk military CO, was saying to the lady on hisright. "They're too confounded meek. Nowadays, nobody yells '_Zniddsuddabit!_' at you. Nobody sticks all four thumbs in his mouth andwaves his fingers. Nobody commits nuisance on the sidewalk in front ofyou. They just stand and look at you like a farmer looking at a turkeythe week before Christmas, and that I don't like!"
"Oh, bosh!" Jules Keaveney, the Skilk Resident-Agent, at the head ofthe table, exclaimed. "You soldiers are all alike--begging yourpardon, General von Schlichten," he nodded in the direction of theguest of honor. "If they don't bow and scrape to you and get off thesidewalk to let you pass, you say they're insolent and need a lesson.If they do, you say they're plotting insurrection."
"What I said," Mordkovitz repeated, "was that I expect a certainamount of disorder, and a certain minimum show of hostility toward usfrom some of these geeks, to conform to what I know to be ourunpopularity with many of them. When I don't find it, I want to knowwhy."
"I'm inclined," von Schlichten came to his subordinate's support, "toagree. This sudden absence of overt hostility is disquieting. ColonelCheng-Li," he called on the local Intelligence officer andConstabulary chief. "This fellow Rakkeed was here, about a month ago.Was there any noticeable disorder at that time? Anti-Terrandemonstrations, attacks on Company property or personnel, shooting ataircars, that sort of thing?"
"No more than usual, general. In fact, it was when Rakkeed came herethat the condition General Mordkovitz was speaking of began to becomeconspicuous. We did catch some of Rakkeed's disciples trying to get inamong the enlisted men of the Tenth N.U.N.I. and the Fifth ZirkCavalry and promote disaffection. That was reported at the time, sir."
"And acted upon, as far as the civil administration would permit," vonSchlichten replied. "And I might say that Lieutenant-Governor Blounthas reported from Keegark, where he is now, that the same unnaturalabsence of hostility exists there."
"Well, of course, general," Keaveney said patronizingly. "King Orgzildhas things under pretty tight control at Keegark. He'd not allow a fewfanatics to do anything to prejudice these spaceport negotiations."
"I wonder if the idea back of that spaceport proposition isn't to getus concentrated at Keegark, where Orgzild could wipe us all out in onesurprise blow," somebody down the table suggested.
"Oh, Orgzild wouldn't be crazy enough to try anything like that,"Commander Dirk Prinsloo, of the _Aldebaran_, declared. "He'd get awaywith it for just twelve months--the time it would take to get thenews to Terra and for a Federation Space Navy task-force to get here.And then, there'd be little bits of radioactive geek floating aroundthis system as far out as the orbit of Beta Hydrae VII."
"That's quite true," von Schlichten agreed. "The point is, doesOrgzild know it? I doubt if he even believes there is a Terra."
"Then where in Space does he think we come from?" Keaveney demanded.
"I believe he thinks Niflheim is our home world," von Schlichtenreplied. "Or, rather, the string of orbiters and artificial satellitesaround Niflheim. Where he thinks Niflheim is, I wouldn't even try toguess."
"Well, it takes six months for a ship to go between here and Nif,"Prinsloo considered. "Because of the hyperdrive effects, theexperienced time of the voyage, inside the ship, is of the order ofthree weeks. Taking that as the figure, he'd estimate the distance atabout a quarter-million miles, assuming the velocity as being thespeed of one of our contragravity-ships here on Uller. I'm assuming hedoesn't even know there is a hyperdrive."
"Yes. After he'd wiped us out, he might even consider the idea of aninvasion of Niflheim with captured contragravity ships," HideyoshiO'Leary chuckled. "That would be a big laugh--if any of us were alive,then, to do any laughing."
"You don't really believe that, general?" Keaveney asked. His tone wasstill derisive, but under the derision was uncertainty. After all, vonSchlichten had been on Uller for fifteen years, to his two.
"Any question of geek psychology is wide open as far as I'm concerned;the longer I stay here, the less I understand it." Von Schlichtenfinished his brandy and got out cigarette-case and lighter. "I havean idea of the sort of garbled reports these spies of his who spend ayear on Niflheim as laborers bring back."
"You know the line Rakkeed's been taking, of course," Colonel Cheng-Liput in. "He as much as says that Niflheim's our home, and that thefarms where we raise food here, and those evergreen plantings on KonkIsthmus and between here and Grank are the beginning of an attempt todrive all native life from this planet and make it over forourselves."
"And that savage didn't think an idea like that up for himself; he gotit from somebody like Orgzild," the black-bearded brigadier-generaladded. "You know, the main base off Niflheim is practicallyself-supporting, with hydroponic-gardens and animal-tissue culturevats. And it's enough bigger than one of the _City_ ships to pass fora little world. Yes, somebody like Orgzild, or King Firkked here,could easily pick up the idea that that's our home planet."
"But King Kankad was talking about...." Paula Quinton began.
"We were speaking of geeks, not Kragans." Von Schlichten lit hiscigarette and held his lighter for hers. "You saw that big Beta Hydraeorrery at Kankad's observatory. Well, there's quite a little storyabout that. You know, it's generally realized by the natives here thatUller is a globe. The North Zirks have ridden all the way around it,on hipposaur-back, in the high latitudes, and the thalassic peoples atthe Equator have sailed all the five equatorial seas and portaged allthe isthmuses between. But, of course, Uller is the center of theuniverse; the sun travels around it, on a rather complicateddouble-spiral track. As a theory, it explains most of what they'reable to observe, and any minor effects that don't conform to it arejust ignored. They have a model, a most ingenious affair run byclockwork, at the University of Konkrook, to show the apparentmovement and position of Beta Hydrae in the sky; it does so fairlyaccurately.
"Well, some of our astronomers constructed this orrery, and exhibitedit to a gathering of the leading native scholars, who are also thehigh-priests of the local religion. Sort of combined Academy of Artsand Sciences and College of Cardinals. They almost were massacred. Assoon as the assembled pundits saw this thing and grasped its meaning,they began geeking and skreeking and yorking and squawking andbrandishing knives--it was blasphemous, and sacrilegious, andundermined the Faith, and invalidated the whole logic-system.
"I was brigadier-general, in command of Konkrook military district,then--the post Them M'zangwe has now. When I got a riot-call from theUniversity, I hustled around with a company of Kragans, and we clearedthe hall with the bayonet and ran the reverend professors out onto thecampus, and after we got things in hand, the Kragans crowded aroundthe orrery, trying to set it up to show the existing position of theplanet relative to the primary and figure out the theory back of it.They were very much interested; some of them must have sent word homeabout it, because Kankad came in on the next ship, wanting to see it.He was so much taken with it that Sid Harrington gave it to him. It'sone of his most cherished possessions, but the Konkrook pundits biteall four thumbs and wave their fingers every time they think of it."He warmed his coffee from a controlled-temperature pot. "You can't useKragan thinking on any subject as a criterion of what somebody likeOrgzild's opinions will be."
"I never could understand the admiration some of you military peoplehave for those cutthroats," Keaveney declared. "Oh, yes, I can. Youlike them because they do your dirty work for you."
"He reads Stanley-Browne, too, I'll bet," Hideyoshi O'Leary said."Miss Quinton, how did you like your visit to Kankad's Town? Stillthink the Kragans are cultural mongrels?"
"Why, they're wonderful! I never expected anything like it. They justseem to have picked up everything they could from us, and then gone onfrom there to develop a culture of their own with our techniques. Forinstance, those big guns, the ones they call the Ridge Battery, thatthey built for themselves. They aren't copies of Terran guns. Theydon't look like our work, or give you the feel our work would. Andthat telescope at the observatory," she continued. "Did they buildthat, too?"
"Yes, all we furnished was a couple of textbooks on lens-grinding andtelescope-design, and a book on optics. You see, when we made thatdeal with them, they realized that we weren't any better fighters thanthey were; we just had better weapons. To have the same kind ofweapons, they'd have to learn to make them, and once they beganstudying technology, they found that they had to study science.Weapon-making was the entering-wedge; after that, they found that theycould use the same skills to make anything else they wanted. Give themanother century or so and they'll be one of the great races of thegalaxy."
"Yes, and it's a good thing they're our friends, too," Mordkovitzadded. "I'm only sorry there are so few of them, and so many of thegeeks."
"Yes, the Company ought to let us stockpile nuclear weapons here, justto be on the safe side," another officer, farther down the table,said.
"Well, I'm not exactly in favor of that," von Schlichten replied."It's the same principle as not allowing guards who have to go inamong the convicts to carry firearms. If somebody like Orgzild gothold of a nuclear bomb, even a little old First-Century H-bomb, hecould use it for a model and construct a hundred like it, with all theplutonium we've been handing out for power reactors. And there are toofew of us, and we're concentrated in too few places, to last long ifthat happened. What this planet needs, though, is a visit by afifty-odd-ship task-force of the Space Navy, just to show the geekswhat we have back of us. After a show like that, there'd be a lot less_znidd suddabit_ around here."
"General, I deplore that sort of talk," Keaveney said. "I hear toomuch of this mailed-fist-and-rattling-saber stuff from some of thejunior officers here, without your giving countenance andencouragement to it. We're here to earn dividends for the stockholdersof the Uller Company, and we can only do that by gaining thefriendship, respect and confidence of the natives...."
"Mr. Keaveney," Paula Quinton spoke up. "I doubt if even you wouldseriously accuse the Extraterrestrials' Rights Association of favoringwhat you call a mailed-fist-and-rattling-saber policy. We've doneeverything in our power to help these people, and if anybody shouldhave their friendship, we should. Well, only five days ago, inKonkrook, Mr. Mohammed Ferriera and I were attacked by a mob, ournative aircar driver was murdered, and if it hadn't been for Generalvon Schlichten and his soldiers, we'd have lost our own lives. Mr.Ferriera is still hospitalized as a result of injuries he received. Itseems that General von Schlichten and his Kragans aren't trying toget friendship and confidence; they're willing to settle for respect,in the only way they can get it--by hitting harder and quicker thanthe geeks can."
Somebody down the table--one of the military, of course--said, "Hear,hear!" Von Schlichten came as close as a man wearing a monocle can towinking at Paula. Good girl, he thought; she's started playing on theArmy team!
"Well, of course...." Keaveney began. Then he stopped, as a Terransergeant came up to the table and bent over Barney Mordkovitz'shoulder, whispering urgently. The black-bearded brigadier roseimmediately, taking his belt from the back of his chair and putting iton. Motioning the sergeant to accompany him, he spoke briefly toKeaveney and then came around the table to where von Schlichten sat,the Resident-Agent accompanying him.
"Message just came in from Konkrook, general," he said softly. "SidHarrington's dead."
It took von Schlichten all of a second to grasp what had been said."Good God! When? How?"
"Here's all we know, sir," the sergeant said, giving him a radioprintslip. "Came in ten minutes ago."
It was an all-station priority telecast. Governor-General Harringtonhad died suddenly, in his room, at 2210; there were no details. Heglanced at his watch; it was 2243. Konkrook and Skilk were in the sametime-zone; that was fast work. He handed the slip to Mordkovitz, whogave it to Keaveney.
"You from the telecast station, sergeant?" he asked. "All right, let'sgo."
"Wait a minute, general." Keaveney put out a hand to detain him as hetook his belt and put it on. "How about this?" He gestured nervouslywith the radioprint slip.
"Get up and make an announcement, now," von Schlichten told him,fastening the buckle and hitching his pistol and survival-kit intoplace. "It'll be out all over the planet in half an hour. Never holdnews out unnecessarily." He stubbed out his cigarette. "Come on,sergeant."
As he hurried from the banquet-room, he could hear Keaveney tapping onhis wine-glass.
"Everybody, please! Let me have your attention! There has just come ina piece of the most tragic news...."
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