by Ian Miller
"To work out how many centuries I have to chew through?" Gaius asked.
"Partly," the droid said. "There is another reason. If you present a reasonably well made out analysis of why you think the time will be suitable, you also provide your fall-back reason."
"I don't understand," Gaius said, after a pause.
"You can never be sure what will have happened," the droid said, "but if everything on your planet has gone wrong, you could always carry out a sociodynamic study explaining why, and this might be an adequate reason to let you go. Such studies on new planets are quite rare, and this could be an unexpected situation, in which case your study would be very valuable."
"I'm sure Ulsians will be better equipped to do such a study," Gaius said.
"In the sense of knowing more about sociodynamics, yes," the droid said, "but in understanding the behaviour of your species, I doubt it."
"Then I suppose I might as well try," Gaius offered.
"That's the spirit. Of course you won't necessarily succeed. And even if you get past the first hurdles, you may get killed on your first military expedition."
"True," Gaius said thoughtfully, "but that at least is a problem I understand. Teach me what you can, and let's see what happens."
"Excellent!" the droid said enthusiastically, and to Gaius' dismay, produced the material for the next lesson. No time was to be wasted.
Chapter 14
No time was being wasted on making the program on Gaius' war experience either. It appeared to Gaius that this program was being made at an incredible speed, but the Tin Man merely commented that without Gaius' ability to clog progress, machines could do this work so many orders of magnitude more quickly.
"I get the picture," Gaius muttered.
"You probably don't," the Tin Man countered. "The speed is almost entirely due to the fact that everything has been mechanical. Since we are discussing your exploits, the plot, so to speak, is written. Since we are relying only on Timothy's memories of your report for historical accuracy, no research is required, and there is no room for debate. Machines just get on with it."
"Good for them," Gaius muttered again, but the tone was lost on the Tin Man.
In the event, Gaius was amazed to see how authentic the scenery, the troops, the oasis, and the equipment looked. It was almost as if he were back at home. He was also amused to see that the event recollection was not exactly authentic, however he was not going to object too much because at the personal level he appeared in a far better light than he would have had he made the program himself. He had always given Timothy an account of what had happened, and why he had carried out which deployments, but Timothy had also discussed these battles with other participants, including survivors from the other side. It seemed he had been able to use influence to alter who received the faster treatment, in return for information, and he had used such influence lavishly. It turned out Timothy had been writing some sort of history. Histories of the time were to record Roman glory, so the periods of uncertainty were removed, small mistakes overlooked, fortunate breaks adjusted slightly so they appeared to be planned. The Tin Man had interpolated the gaps, making the stories even more heroic.
Perhaps the biggest surprise, however, was that this and the other programs were watched. They were interesting, they were different, and things got resolved. Now, when Gaius accompanied Lucilla and Vipsania on walks, he noticed that Ulsians noticed him, pointed him out to their friends, and seemed to make positive gestures. On one occasion Gaius gave a friendly wave, and after a pause during which they tried to work out what this meant, they received waves back.
That, however, was as far as it went, for it seemed the average Ulsian was almost afraid of approaching such a barbarian. For his part, Gaius simply wished someone would approach.
Eventually it happened. One day, a "child" approached Gaius, and stood in front of him while his friends stood well away, watching. The child held out a pad, and asked for something. Gaius simply stood there, not comprehending.
"He wants you to write something on the pad for him," the Tin Man said.
"Why?" Gaius asked, bemused.
"So he can show it to his friends," the Tin Man said. "He will have collected something written from someone prominent, and a hero."
"I'm hardly a hero," Gaius snorted.
"He seems to think you are," the Tin Man said. "You should do so. It would make him happy if you did."
"Tell him I shall be pleased to," Gaius said, then added, "What do I write?"
"Your name and position."
Gaius nodded, took the pad, and wrote
GAIVS CLAVDIVS SCAEVOLA
LEGATVS LEGIO XX VALERIA
While the child was triumphantly gesturing to his friends, the Tin Man looked at what Gaius had written, and then added some more in Ulsian. The young Ulsian stared almost in disbelief, then stared at Gaius in almost awe, then bowed and almost ran, in case his treasure was removed.
"What was that?" Gaius asked later.
"I explained that a Legate corresponded roughly to a Major-General," the Tin Man said, "I explained that you came from Earth, and that you always won your battles."
"I see," Gaius said, a trifle bemused.
"It's a big thing," the Tin Man added. "What the Ulsians see are commanders who always lose their battles. He'll be a hero showing that to all his little friends."
"Then I'm glad," was all that Gaius could respond.
The young Ulsian had friends, and the word spread. Soon, on these walks, Gaius would see such young Ulsians following him, pads in hand, tentatively hoping to catch his attention. Gaius would wait until a reasonable procession had formed, then he would find a convenient spot to sit down, then he would wave to encourage the young Ulsians to come. Gaius did not mind; as he remarked, signing pads helped fill in the day. But it did mean he was beginning to get noticed as all the adult Ulsians nearby could hardly help but see the small processions.
* * *
The boredom for the women, and the sociodynamic lessons for Gaius, continued. The party members were so limited in what they could do. Finally, Gaius approached the Tin Man, and asked why there were so many limitations.
"What you would call money," the Tin Man replied. "We are at war, and since you cannot earn anything . . ." He stopped and said nothing further.
"I see," Gaius muttered. This, he could understand, and there was little he could do about it. As he explained to Vipsania later, going for walks and going to the library may not be ideal, but they might have to accept it was all they were going to get.
Then things got worse. The Tin Man disappeared, and hence the library or staying at home, were their only two options. Lucilla, in particular, felt the strain. Gaius always seemed to find something interesting, but Lucilla did not. Vipsania also found the library unsatisfactory; she tried to read Ulsian literature, but found that parts were not translated. When she asked why not, she was told there was no satisfactory translation because Latin had no suitable words. This infuriated her, but since her interface at the library was with another metallic Ulsian, there was nothing she could do.
Then two weeks later, the Tin Man reappeared. He invited them back to the site of the steam engine, then announced "I have found you something to do, if you wish."
"What?" Lucilla and Vipsania both asked eagerly.
"Through Timothy's memories," the Tin Man said, "I can reproduce more or less exactly, a number of Greek plays. You can produce them, and gain a payment every time they are shown."
"That won't be often," Gaius smiled. "There can't be a lot of Greek speakers on Ulse."
"On the contrary, they should earn enormous amounts, and you will be rich. The language is not an issue. They will be translated into Ulsian, or any other language."
"By whom?" Vipsania asked. "How many . . ."
"By me," the Tin Man interrupted, "or by a number of other translating machines. There're a huge number of languages in the Ulsian Federation," the Tin man continued, the
n added, "or at least there were."
"Before the war?"
"Yes. Now we have no idea how many planets have been lost."
"Can I find out more about this war?" Gaius asked. While he was making progress with his sociodynamics, the problem of how to get onto a warship seemed totally insoluble.
"Of course. You may use your screen to find out anything you can understand, although if you wish, I can guide you, and explain things."
"These plays?" Vipsania asked, returning to the first topic directed at her. "How can you find people to act? Gaius is . . well . . . shall we say . . ."
"A man with limited acting talent is what she's trying to say," Gaius offered.
"I'm not trying . . ." Vipsania started defensively.
"It's a fairly accurate picture," Gaius laughed.
"In any case, he's the only man," Vipsania continued. "Gaius trying to pretend to be twenty soldiers fighting another twenty of him might seem, shall we say, a little odd."
"You can make your own actors."
"Make?"
"Create, whatever."
"Make people?" Lucilla asked incredulously.
"No. Make illusions of people," the Tin Man said. "I'll show you. You remember the droll Tiberius?"
"Yes."
"Well, wait a minute," the Tin Man said. He stood there, then said, "There."
"There what?" Vipsania asked.
"Over there."
They followed his finger, and there, on a small rise, stood the figure of Tiberius. The figure bowed.
"That's amazing!" Vipsania said.
"It's a younger Tiberius," Lucilla noted.
"It's how Tiberius looked when Timothy last saw him," the Tin Man said. "You can make the image do whatever you wish. Cartwheels? Watch!"
To their surprise, the image of Tiberius began doing cartwheels.
"You need a storm?" the Tin Man said. "Watch!"
To the west, huge grey clouds began to build up. The wind picked up, until Vipsania found her hair blowing wildly out, and her clothes were driven into one side of her, and billowed out on the other. Suddenly, it began to rain, and water lashed against them. A huge flash of lightning filled the sky, then a second one drove straight into the image of the Tiberius. The body image was flung aside, electric flames licked across it, then the stench of burnt flesh struck them. Then, with a wave, everything was gone, and they were standing in the peaceful sun.
"I have been given permission to create whatever scene you wish," the Tin Man said, "and make it do whatever you wish. When everything is correct, we record it, and when every part of a play has been recorded satisfactorily, we get Ulsians to come and watch it, you sell recordings for the screen, and you will have enough wealth to do other things."
"But we won't be allowed to make the images," Gaius said. "It has to be done through you."
"Yes," the Tin man said, then said, "No!"
"Well," Gaius grinned. "Which is it?"
"You can't make the images," the Tin Man said, "at least not yet."
"You don't trust us?" Vipsania asked, with a light smile, but nevertheless a touch of hurt in her voice.
"What I meant is, you are not capable of it," the Tin Man said. "You are not equipped."
"What's that mean?" Vipsania asked curiously. "Do Ulsians have something like another hand, or . . ."
"No!" For the first time, it seemed the Tin Man was agitated. After a small pause, he continued, "I mentioned something about this before. When an Ulsian becomes an adult, an . . . how can I put it . . . an item is embedded in their brains. This allows them to transfer their thoughts, including pictures, to Ulsian machines. If you had one, with the right equipment you could think of an image and create it, you could think of things you wish to move and, provided there is an adequate power source, appear to move it by thought alone. It looks like magic, but of course it is nothing of the sort. It is simply the use of energy by means of fields that are not obvious. Anyway, you haven't got one of these items, so you can't. It is also why you have so many restrictions on where you can go. You could inadvertently be trapped behind a door which has to be 'thought opened'."
"So we're always going to be restricted," Lucilla muttered.
"That depends," the Tin Man said. "If you complete these plays, your wealth should permit you to have these made for you, and as I mentioned before, Timothy's brain should be a sufficient guide for design purposes, which, of course, was why I took the brain and preserved it. So, when you finish this project, it might be possible. However . . ."
"However what?" Vipsania asked.
"You should not force the issue," the Tin Man replied. "These are made at different levels, and the more you force, the lower the level you'll receive. I should add, it is a one-off insertion; there are no upgrades."
"Charming," Lucilla muttered.
"In any case, that is for the future," the Tin Man said. "For the present, do you wish to make plays." He paused, then continued, "I am afraid you will have to make up your mind, right now. I am sorry, but I thought you needed something to do, and with the war, I had quite some trouble . . ."
"We'll do it!" Vipsania interrupted, then turned to Lucilla and added, "Won't we?"
"Yes," Lucilla said, but Gaius detected a tired tone in her voice.
"Good," the Tin Man said. "You have no idea how difficult this was to arrange. At the moment, production means space warships, landing vehicles, soldiers, androids . . ."
"You get machines to do your fighting?" Gaius asked curiously.
"Yes, and no," the Tin Man replied, and held up his hand to stop Gaius from laughing. "Machines can shoot straighter and faster than any Ulsian, or human, could possibly do, however they cannot be in control."
"You don't want them to be in control in case they start shooting you?" Lucilla asked.
"That is a very serious problem which has to be averted," the Tin Man said, "but that is not the reason. The machines still fire the weapons, but . . ."
"You need someone to tell them when?" Gaius offered.
"Yes, but that is not the problem. At least not what I think you're saying. The problem is, given the same situation, either they do the same thing or they do not. If they do . . ."
"They're predictable!" Gaius offered.
"Yes, and if you make sure they don't, they often tend to do something quite bizarre. They either follow what they see as the optimum course, or they take random options, and it doesn't seem to work, although . . ."
"Although what?" Gaius asked.
"Nothing much is working right now," the Tin Man said. "You might have been better off to back the other side."
"Tell me something," Gaius frowned. "Are Ulsian weapons inferior to those of the enemy?"
"No, we have superior technology. Our ships are better too, they're faster, they can be effectively invisible, but . . ."
"But?"
"It doesn't seem to help," the Tin man said. "Somehow, they always manage to outnumber us somewhere, and we lose there, and . . ."
"Then you win when you put your house in order," Gaius shrugged.
"We hope so," the Tin Man said. "In the mean time, back to the plays. What has been proposed is . . ."
Chapter 15
For several months, the Terrans were as happy as they were going to be on Ulse. Lucilla and Vipsania were having enormous fun creating scenes and making images of people do what the play required. Gaius was there some of the time for support, and he made some contributions, but most of the time he found that when he had a suggestion, Vipsania or Lucilla would take it and work it through far faster than he could. For Lucilla and Vipsania, creating these scenes temporarily took them back to Earth, and it made them feel so pleased. Gaius thought about Earth from time to time, but equally he was thinking more and more of where he was.
The more he thought about it, the worse the situation was becoming. The war news was becoming increasingly bad, but apart from some general wailing now and then, nobody seemed to be doing anything a
bout it. For his part he was continuing to sign autographs; it appeared his autograph was becoming an increasingly desirable item amongst the young of Ulse. He began studying in more detail the history of the war, from the initial surprise attacks, the battles at first lost for the simple reason that the enemy outnumbered the Ulsians who, while they maintained a peace-time space fleet, that fleet had consisted of a few very old ships that were there more for show than for fighting. The enemy then began pouring into Ulsian space, seemingly laying waste to planetary system after planetary system, pouring in at almost the rate at which news travelled.
This, Gaius knew from experience, had a very deleterious effect. If you were at a place seemingly at peace, then news of a war arrived, then news of loss after loss arrived, all compressed into a few days, then the enemy appeared, the next battle was two thirds lost before it even began. The soldiers believed they were the next statistic. Win a couple of key battles, as Alexander had, march fast, and the opposition would crumble before your eyes, suing for peace before they were laid to waste.
The more he looked at it, there was a certain resemblance here to Alexander's time. Alexander had an air of invincibility, he marched fast, and many a village surrendered because they heard of his victories only marginally before his arrival, before anything could be done to raise forces or morale. Perhaps things had not changed with the advance of technology as much as he had thought.
The problem with this analogy was that he seemed to have elected to be a Persian. He had often argued that the Persians should not have lost to the Greeks. They had more options, they were fighting on their home territory, and there were very many more of them. There had been a number of opportunities, including avoiding fighting the battle at Issus, or if they had to fight it, fight it better. Such analysis, of course, was easy in retrospect. The problem was to do it when it mattered.
Not that he would be put to the test, for he was not in any position to do anything. When he made comments to Ulsian committees, he was told to be specific. When he made a specific suggestion, he was told he did not, indeed could not, understand modern warfare. After all, how could a man who had never even left the ground before he was kidnapped understand three-dimensional space warfare? Gaius did not have a good answer to this. And, if he claimed he could, why should they believe him? It was just too far-fetched, they continued. He was merely a barbarian. Yes, he had been successful, but in his own time, in his own place. Gaius had to concede that they were most likely to be correct. It was one thing to say that the principles were the same, but that was impossible to prove, and his own principles stated that operational aspects were an important consideration when formulating strategy. He had to concede he had no knowledge of the operational aspects of space warfare. He could, however, read the histories of ancient Ulsian battles. If nothing else, it helped fill the day.
