Other

by Gordon R. Dickson

  “Well, you’ll want to think it over.” Bleys got to his feet.

  “Wait!” said McKae. He started to rise himself, and then the obvious awareness that Bleys would then be looking down at him from a somewhat uncomfortable difference in height seemed to penetrate him. He sank back into his seat. “It’s an excellent idea. I just want to think about it for a few days, naturally. But I’m sure my final decision is going to be to go along with you on this.”

  Then he stood up. “To our working together in the future, then.” McKae extended his hand.

  Bleys enclosed it in his own.

  “By all means,” said Bleys. “I need to be getting back too, then.”

  He glanced at the sky.

  “—And we’ll both get wet if we stay here much longer.”

  “That’s right. I’ll be in touch shortly,” McKae said.

  He stood where he was as Bleys turned and walked back to the elevator housing. He did not look back. Bleys had already dismissed McKae from his mind and was thinking about Dahno, who would not be pleased.

  Chapter 17

  Dahno was not pleased. His normal good humor and optimism, which was as enormous as his physical self and had a tendency to swamp those close about him with his emotion of the moment—a fact of which he was aware and which he used to gain his own ends—was in one of its rare absences.

  It was the afternoon following Bleys’s talk with McKae; and Dahno, Bleys and Toni were sitting together in a hotel in another city, some hundred and twenty kilometers from Worthy, in the main room of the apartment that was part of Bleys’s headquarters here on Harmony.

  “—It makes no sense. No sense on half a dozen counts!” Dahno was saying. He sprang to his feet. “I’m needed with you; and I’ll be needed more on Cassida and Newton, if you go there first before going back to New Earth. Our Friendlies’ elections are only a few weeks off. I’d have to leave for Association right now, and you wouldn’t see me again until halfway through your Newton trip. And what for? All to put on a show. I can ran for that seat in the Chamber without ever setting foot in our home district. You know that. It’s only to make an impression on McKae. If he goes along with you, it won’t be because of anything I do or don’t do. You can forget something that minor—it never counts!”

  Bleys had long since given up trying to explain to any other human being that there was nothing so minor that it did not have the possibility of making a crucial difference in human history if conditions favored it.

  “—So what are you going to do without me?” Dahno was saying. “I don’t mean just without me here on Harmony. I’ll grant you, you can handle that yourself. But what about being without me on Cassida and Newton? We’ve always worked together: you up front in the open, and me behind the scenes, feeding you information about people so that you can work effectively with them.”

  “I’ve told you why, before this,” Bleys said gently. “Much of the time, I don’t know exactly what I’m just about to do. I’m working with individuals and societies continually in a state of growth and change. I have to adapt and invent as I go.”

  “You have to have some plans,” said Dahno.

  “Not that I could be sure enough about to announce,” Bleys said. “Suppose, when I grew up on Henry’s farm, there had been a faint, misty mountain on the far horizon; and I’d told myself someday I’d go there. But, when I finally got the chance to go, I found there were no maps. So I simply started walking toward the mountain, working my way around obstacles as I went.”

  He paused. Dahno had stopped pacing and was standing listening. Maybe, this time…

  Bleys went on. “But as long as I can still see the mountain there, I know if I keep heading toward it, I’ll reach it someday. So I improvise. Of course, I’d rather keep you with me; but right now I believe I need you more on Association.”

  “At least you could give me some kind of answer on what the connection is between this business with McKae and my election!”

  “The connection is to have you as good as elected to the Chamber for Henry’s district, when McKae announces he’ll choose me for First Elder if he becomes Eldest.”

  Dahno gave a huge shrug, walked back to his float and dropped down into it. Bleys stepped back and sat down also. They looked at each other.

  “All right,” Dahno said. He grinned suddenly. “I can see my being useful for you in the Chamber, and you being First Elder. But how are you planning to do without me on Cassida and Newton?”

  “Cassida and Newton,” Bleys said thoughtfully. “They’re an unusual situation. Newton’s drifted into turning nearly everything it produces in its research laboratories over to the developmental centers on Cassida. And Cassida’s been selling most of the developed information on to New Earth, for further development into a mass-producible product, the engineering of which can be sold to all the other Younger Worlds.”

  “Nothing new about that,” said Dahno. “We all know it. Everybody knows.”

  “Yes, but the point is the three-world flow pattern of interstellar credit. It’s got to the point where all three are dependent on each other. They’re a chain. By now a major change in one of them could destroy that chain and wreck all three financially.”

  “True,” said Dahno, “and the threat of a change like that could control them. But will you tell me one more thing? This is still aimed at the goal of putting the Others, as I started them—in spite of all the additions and changes you’ve made in them—on top of things generally, if possible?”

  “It is,” said Bleys, “I mean ‘everywhere.’ But not ‘generally.’ No ‘if possible.’ “

  “Fine, then. But I’ll hold you to that—” Dahno was interrupted by a chime from the communications system and Henry’s voice, speaking flatly and without emotion.

  “The man Barbage is here,” said Henry. “He wants to see you. I asked why, and he said he had important news for you.”

  “Send him up,” said Bleys, letting the open phone of Henry’s communication system pick up his voice from the middle of the room. “In fact, bring him up yourself. I’d like you to hear whatever he has to tell me.”

  “We’ll be there right away,” said Henry’s voice.

  “I’m leaving for Association now,” said Dahno, and he left the lounge.

  It was only a couple of moments before one of the other doors slid open and Barbage came in, followed by Henry.

  “Sit down,” said Bleys; and they both took floats, Barbage with the hint of a predatory smile on his thin lips. Henry had no expression on his face at all. Barbage carried a small case and was dressed impeccably, as usual, in his black uniform now with the silver insignia of a captain major on its lapels; and now also with a noticeable badge that said “Association” above his left pocket. It could represent identification only, since being from the other Friendly world would make no difference in either his rank or his authority on Harmony.

  “Well, Amyth?” Bleys said to him.

  “Great Teacher,” said Barbage, “I’ve got news of Hal Mayne for thee.”

  “Have you?” Bleys said and immediately regretted the slight eagerness that escaped into his voice. He controlled his features to an expression of polite indifference.

  “Yes,” said Barbage. “Foolishly, on entering Harmony, he used the name and papers of Howard Beloved Immanuelson, of whom we have record as a dissenter and outlaw. This allowed us to trace him back to Coby and find record of one who had worked at a certain mine there under the name of Tad Thornhill. Thornhill had left that mine just before Immanuelson arrived on Harmony and joined the outlaw command he is now with.”

  “He’s been seen here?” asked Bleys.

  “Yes,” said Barbage. “By thyself, among others, Great Teacher.”

  There was no particular triumph visible in Barbage, and Bleys did not alter the expression on his face or change the tone of his voice.

  “Yes, I know you told me of that before, Captain,” Bleys said. “When I made that speaking trip to Ci
tadel, and the authorities there thought to impress me by parading the detainees from the jail before me. As I recall, I spoke to them and then asked for their release.”

  “It is so, Great Teacher,” Barbage said.

  “And are you now telling me that Hal Mayne was one of those detainees?” Bleys held up a hand to forestall Barbage’s answer for a moment. He glanced over at Toni. “You weren’t with me that time, were you, Toni?”

  “No,” said Toni. “I was on Harmony with you, but you had me out, setting up the talks.”

  Bleys nodded. He turned again to Barbage.

  “You’re telling me he was one of those?” Bleys asked. “He’d have grown into a man during his four years in the Coby mines. And that would change the boy he was when his tutors were killed. Still…”

  “He had grown,” said Barbage. “He was then”—he hesitated, an unusual action in him—“he was then almost as tall as thou art, Great Teacher. But I gather he stood in the back rank of prisoners and bent his knees, so that his height would not show.”

  Bleys nodded.

  “At any rate,” Barbage went on, “the records show this Howard Beloved Immanuelson was one of the men in that room where thou spakest to the detainees. On Coby, as thou mayest know, there is a great deal of collusion between mine staffs and those they hire. Individual identification marks, such as eye prints or individual DNA, can be falsified to hide the true identity of any new man who is hired.”

  “That close!” Bleys said, almost to himself. “That close—I didn’t suspect!”

  “However, we know now where he is,” said Barbage, and this time his voice gave away, very slightly, the emotion inside him. “We know the particular Command of revolutionaries he’s joined; and, just at the moment the local militia think they know where that Command is. I came to tell thee that and find out if thou wisheth to watch the process of trapping it, and Mayne with it.”

  Bleys frowned.

  “How much time would that take me?” he asked.

  “A matter of hours only, Great Teacher,” said Barbage. “If thou wilt let me show thee—”

  He was already on his feet and opening the case he carried. He took out a map, put the case aside and looked about to find a table on which to spread the map. He found one and looked over his shoulder at Bleys.

  “If thou wilt look, Great Teacher.”

  Bleys rose and stepped over to look down on the map.

  “Thou seest,” said Barbage, “here is New Samarkand, where we are now; and these are the foothills of a mountain range, some two hundred kilometers north of us. On the edge of that range, right now, is Rukh’s Command—the leader of the Command is a woman named Rukh Tamani—and to give Satan his due, Great Teacher, the Harmony Militia hath warned me she is a wary and skillful guerrilla fighter, old for her years in outlaw actions. As long as her Command stays deep in the mountains and moves often, it would take two or three companies of Militia to be sure of trapping them. But for the moment they’re almost in the open.”

  Bleys nodded.

  “Yet,” said Barbage, “they have needed at last to come in close to civilization for supplies. Particularly food, rods of fresh needles for their needle guns and spare parts to repair their weapons that’ve been worn out. They like to re-supply all their needs in one quick trip. As a result, the local Militia commander in this district right here just short of the foothills—thou seest the area I’ve outlined in red?”

  “Yes,” said Bleys.

  “That is his district. In theory, his authority runs back into the mountains as far as he wants to go in search of felons. But actually the only areas he can keep steadily under control are the close foothills and the farmlands next to them.”

  “That’s not a lot,” said Toni.

  Barbage glanced at her. He hesitated, opened his mouth, closed it again and turned back to Bleys.

  “It’s the duty to which the Militia headquarters staff hath assigned him,” he said to Bleys.

  He turned once more to the map.

  “He hath found Rukh’s Command just behind the first folds of the foothills, and he hath gradually been moving his men into position to surround them. We can take an atmosphere ship and be there in less than an hour. After that, it will only be a matter of watching an hour, or at most two, for the outlaws to be rounded up and brought in. Thou mayest be able to pick out Hal Mayne and bring him back here with you, if that’s what thou wishest. But we should leave right now. I’ve got a Militia A-ship waiting.”

  Bleys looked at Barbage for a moment.

  “You make it sound remarkably easy, Amyth,” he said. “Have you got so much faith in this local Militia commander?”

  “I would have more faith in my own troops, if I had had permission to form my own search force on Association—forgive me for mentioning it, Great Teacher,” Barbage said. He stared back at Bleys, completely unapologetic. “But the Commander—a militia major, by the way—is considered trustworthy on this world. Also, he knows—and if he didn’t, I’ve impressed on him—that this is a matter of great importance. I promise thee he will be cautious about making a mistake. If he tells us—as he hath—that he has Rukh Tamani’s Command surrounded, ready to gather in, I am inclined to believe him.”

  “All right,” said Bleys. “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Toni stood up, and Bleys glanced at her.

  “Good enough,” Bleys said. “Henry—there’s probably no point in your coming. I think, Amyth, Antonia Lu will be welcome to join us. My cloak’s wide enough to cover both of us.”

  Barbage checked whatever he had been about to say at Toni’s sudden announcement.

  “Of course, Great Teacher,” he said. “Thy cloak is wide enough to cover anyone.”

  Chapter 18

  Their atmosphere ship, the black Militia insignia stark on its silver sides in the bright afternoon sunlight, brought them through brief white cloud and a rain shower just ending, to set them down in a sown field, some twenty meters from the gravel-topped road where some officers of the local Militia Command appeared to be in conference.

  Leaving the atmosphere ship, they had to walk across the field, crushing the little green fingertips of the young spring crops just emerging from the damp-black earth—the season was younger here—in order to get to the men with officers’ silver insignia on their black uniforms. There was no way to avoid crushing the plants. Bleys felt like a murderer, knowing as he did from his days on Henry’s farm, how much each of these plants must mean to the farmer who had sown its seeds.

  At Henry’s farm, as a boy, he had helped to build little individual tents, each from one broad leaf of a non-crop plant, to protect the tender shoots from the searing noon—tide rays of Epsilon Eridani during the plantings of the summer.

  But now they were already at the road, and Bleys was being greeted obsequiously—and Barbage with a wary reserve. The major who commanded here, the only officer with rank senior to Barbage’s, was a short, broad-shouldered man running a little to extra waistline. He looked not exactly as if he had been athletic when he was younger, but as if he had had enough extra natural strength to bully most of those around him into letting him have his way. His voice was a light baritone, but sharp and authoritative.

  “I’m sorry, Great Teacher,” he said, “but we had to begin the roundup without you. There were indications that the Rukh Tamani Command was slipping away from us, back into the deeper foothills to the mountains. We had to take them when we could.”

  “Thou hast already captured them, then?” Barbage demanded sharply.

  In spite of the official difference in rank between himself and the local commanding officer, he spoke as a superior to an inferior. The major did not look at him, but kept his gaze and his smile on Bleys.

  “Well, it’s not quite over,” he said to Bleys. “We should have them gathered in shortly.”

  They stood together in the hot sunlight on the gravel surface of the road, waiting; a little knot of people including th
e major, some subsidiary officers, Barbage, Toni and Bleys. With only a few small, puffy white clouds left in the sky, the day was warming rapidly.

  Toni took off her woods-jacket. She had dressed for the outdoors, and perhaps a foray into some brush or otherwise uncleared land; with boots, fawn trousers, a light brown shirt with a filmy scarf tied loosely about her neck. Her jacket, proof against scratchy twigs as well as rain, was a deep reddish brown—called for some reason obscure to those on the New Worlds, “cordovan”—now draped over her arm.

  Bleys could feel the faint breeze—not dusty at all—

  from the slopes off to their right, which rose precipitously, thick with mature variform aspen, birch and pines. Running between the bottom of the slope and a narrow road of oiled gravel was the cropland where they had landed, with beyond it more plowed and seeded earth. This, too, close to the road, had been sadly trampled by Militia boots coming to the road from another atmosphere ship, which was parked and silent, reflecting the sunlight with a hard metallic glare.

  Beyond it, Bleys could see more farmland and, somewhat distorted by heat haze, the farther tops of mountains.

  It could have been a peaceful, even a pleasant scene, with the few Militia officers chatting idly in a group on the road. But there must also be armed enlisted men, who could only be now among the trees, rounding up the members of the outlaw Command.

  There were such revolutionary groups on Association, too, but Bleys had never had any contact with them. They were composed of the incorrigibles from outlawed churches and individuals labeled criminals or terrorists; but most of these latter—it was an open secret—were people who had been driven beyond the law by barely legitimate or flimsy uses of that law against them, by some individual or group in power. In general, the outlaws on Association advocated a complete shake-up of the world government; no doubt it was the same here on Harmony.

  It struck Bleys it would do no harm to make sure about the enlisted troops here.

  “Where are your men?” he asked the Militia major.