"Our definitions may differ from yours," the chaplain said, this time buzzing his ball against the ceiling. Had Ronald's eyes been closed, he would not have been able to tell it was not a human being speaking, albeit one who seemed to flit about from floor to wall to ceiling. "To us the welfare of the individual is paramount. In a conflict of interest with the apparent welfare of society, the individual governs."
"What's good for one is good for all," Ronald said, putting it into perspective.
"There may therefore be no treason."
"But I'm not a Polarian!"
"Polarian custom is now a legal option for military personnel. This relates to the composition of, and balance of interests in, the larger sphere of interest of our empire. Should your kind bring you to trial or court-martial for treason, you might invoke our law and be exonerated."
"I suppose I should be relieved to hear that," Ronald said. "But somehow I'm not. I'm more concerned with the moral aspect than the technical. I do not want to betray my species or my society, yet I feel the need to protect the Bands from exploitation or destruction. My private, personal welfare is of little account. What, then, is my correct course?"
"It is to honor your fundamental imperatives. If your loyalty to the Band female and the Band society is strongest, these are what you must support. You have only to be sure these are your loyalties."
"I'm not sure! That's why I'm in quandary."
"Why would a person love a Band more than his wife?" Again the Polarian was phrasing a direct question indirectly. A Polarian who lacked extensive contact with Solarians would not have phrased such a question at all.
"Do I?" Ronald asked, translating the indirect into the direct, as was typical of his kind. Sol was known as a "thrust" culture, driving relentlessly forward. "Yes, I suppose I do. I think it is because Cirl really needs me, and I need her. She was going to suicide, until I rescued her and gave her reason to live. I was floundering myself, until she showed me the ways of Band society. Helen and I don't really need each other. Not as much. At least, I thought we didn't."
"One could be curious how Band society differs from Solarian society."
"That's the whole essay in itself, a whole library! But I guess you mean how does it differ to me?" Ronald considered. "In essence, it's a pacifist society, very much like the Solarian ideal, Utopia—you know, the kind that would bore the hell out of real people in practice. Because we Solarians are a warlike lot; it shows in every aspect of our lives, in our constant competition, in our 'free enterprise' system that really represents every man's right to claw one's way as high as he can go. But with the Bands this pacifism really works, and their vision of heaven—their Viscous Circle—is correspondingly remote. It's a myth, of course, but—well, I confess it appeals to me increasingly. I wish I could go to the Viscous Circle when I die." He laughed ironically. "I don't believe in it, but I long for it! Maybe it's not treason so much as insanity that beckons me!"
"Then one's love for an alien might be a function of one's longing for her framework or belief."
"It must be! It's such a wonderful belief, better than ours. Solarians are so damned pushy, so infernally corruptible, so much like monsters. I was never much for philosophical notions, before, but somehow—I don't know. I never believed in pacifism, either, until I saw it work in the Band society—and of course then I had to teach them to fight, so they would not be destroyed. I guess I'm doing as much to destroy their philosophy as the rest of my kind is to destroy their bodies. So I'm really being a traitor to the Bands, too; perhaps a worse one. But—well, that's why I'm here. I'm an agent of incalculable mischief, like a germ cell. What can I do?"
"There may be times when one must consider whether it is ethical to advise parties of the truth."
"Tell the Bands about my being a Monster spy? Do you think I'm crazy? They'd—" He paused. "No, they wouldn't. They don't react with anger. They just accept facts."
"Is it possible that the truth would enable them to save themselves from possible destruction?"
"I'm not sure. I doubt it. They'd rather disband than cause considerable inconvenience to other creatures. That's the irony of their situation; the aggressive, grasping species like Solarians drive out the civilized, gentle species like Bands. Even knowing everything, they would not fight—unless they had an uncivilized Monster like me to lead them."
"Yet if they were informed that all the Solarians desire is the Ancient Site—would they move away from it?"
"Yes, I suppose they would. And that might solve the problem. Assuming the Site is well away from Planet Band. Only—" Ronald paused, trying to pin down his reservation. Then he had it. "Only I don't want to solve it that way. That Ancient Site is in their space; they have the most proper title to it. If anyone gets to benefit from Ancient science, it should be the Bands, not the Monsters. The Bands, at least, would not abuse it."
"Then it may be that the problem is not amenable to solution."
"Not that way. I don't want the bad creatures to win." Helen would be gratified to hear him now!
"Perhaps it is fitting to continue as you have been doing, enabling the good creatures to resist the onslaught of the bad. You may deceive the Bands about your nature and motive, for were they to learn of it, they might themselves convey to the Solarians' command the desired information, turning over the Ancient Site. Does this accord with your principles?"
"You make it sound terrible! But yes, I am a Monster, with Monster values. I can do the right thing in the wrong way. I can lie and cheat and steal and kill to achieve my objectives. I don't like it; I wish I were more like Cirl, pretty inside as well as outside. But I'm not, and I certainly don't want Cirl to become like me. If there is lying and cheating to be done, I'd rather take it on myself to do it, since I'm a Monster anyway, and spare them from any such thought. I don't want to corrupt the angels of Heaven. I have to do what my conscience dictates, however much it may violate my conscience—ludicrous as that sounds."
"It accords with Polarian principles. The needs of the individual are paramount. Society is not permitted to judge the motives of the individual."
"Maybe that's why I came to talk with you. I must have realized you'd endorse my selfishness."
"This is possible," the creature agreed without rancor. Polarians were like that; they really did have an alien viewpoint. "Yet it seems you are making the ultimate sacrifice, casting down your own morals and scruples in order to ensure that theirs remain pure."
And how many bigots had done exactly that, throughout human history, savagely protecting the morals of others despite the will of those others? Ronald felt unclean. "Well, thanks, Chaplain," he said. "Thanks to your counsel, I am now resolved to betray both sides, in order that my will alone will be done, right or wrong."
"That is the nature of Monsters," the Polarian agreed equably.
Ronald reported to the interviewing room on schedule. "We have decided to send both survivors back, this time, with memories intact," Branst announced. "We doubt there will be any aural check made there. That way, one of you should be able to locate the Ancient Site and report back to us. We can take it from there."
"And the physical invasion—will you abate that until our report?"
"No. That will proceed, in case neither of you is able to locate the Site promptly."
In other words, they did not fully trust these two agents, who had failed once to get the information. Ronald could not stall them. If he did not produce, they would locate that Site the hard way.
He had an idea. It was a long shot, but worth a try. "I could coordinate better if I could get to know the other Transfer agent."
"Of course. Here she is now."
They were going to let him meet her! After all his own conjectures had come to nothing, the authorities were doing it for him.
The wall screen flicked into a picture that showed a chamber similar to this one. It was as if the room had abruptly doubled in size. Ronald had experienced this phenomenon many times b
efore, but as with the tunnel-flying, it always intrigued him.
In the other half stood a comely young woman in military uniform, without visible insignia of rank, as was the custom with Transfer agents. She might be military or civilian; it hardly mattered. "Ronald Snowden, I presume?" she inquired.
"The same. Tanya Coombs?"
She nodded in confirmation, her hair rippling. It was black, falling to just below her ears, leaving her neck visible. She was slender and full and fit, her figure striving to express itself despite the restrictions of the uniform, and succeeding reasonably well. In feminine apparel she would be a knockout. "You wished to compare notes?"
"Yes, and plan strategy. Privately."
Branst and the officer with Tanya exited, leaving the two alone together. This was of course illusion; not only were they really not together, they were not private. The officers would be tapping the interview on separate screens, and the whole thing would be recorded by the computer and analyzed interminably for any special information that might be gleaned. Still, it seemed private, and that was what he wanted. By the time the analysis of the recording produced anything, Ronald would be safely gone.
"I discover certain complications," Ronald said. "My memory was blanked, so I did not remember I was married. So I married a Band female."
Tanya smiled, in a quirky way that enhanced her prettiness. "Me too," she said ruefully. "I now have two husbands. I did not care to advise my human husband of this."
"I told my wife, and she was very understanding. In fact she was more concerned about my reaction to you than to the alien. But what will I tell my Band wife when I return?"
"Tell her nothing. My Band husband would disband if he knew."
There was that. "I think you and I should meet, as Bands, to coordinate our search for the Ancient Site. There has been such attrition in the complement that I believe it is too risky to operate independently anymore. Do I have your agreement to say nothing inappropriate to my Band wife?"
Tanya nodded understandingly. "And you say nothing to my Band husband. He's a good creature. I would not have survived without him, and don't want to hurt him. However, we can avoid any such complication simply by staying clear of each other. I think independent investigations will suffice."
"But I thought—"
"I agreed to say nothing to your Band wife should I encounter her. I did not agree to meet you."
Their dialogue had sounded promising until she revealed her preference not to meet him in Band form. He could not speak freely here; for true privacy, he had to meet her there.
Tanya, like himself, had been drawn into the Band philosophy, at least to the extent of marrying. She cared about her alien mate. But had her conversion gone as far as his own had? He could not ask her directly, but might glean some hints if he tested her. "Did you like the Band society?"
"Isn't that immaterial to our mission?"
Avoidance. That was promising. "Perhaps. Yet we have to understand it, to survive within it. Ten agents didn't. I almost didn't. Perhaps we had something in common. We don't know whether any of the others married, but it may be a reasonable conjecture that they did not, and so had no help."
She arched a black eyebrow at him, attractively. What was a creature like this doing in Transfer? She should never want to leave her Solarian host body! "We both did survive," she said, "perhaps because of our acceptance of Band society to the point of marrying natives. I think the worst is over."
"Yet we shall have to question Bands carefully, to get the information we require without tipping our hands—or rings, as the case may be."
"I don't think that matters—"
"Because if they caught on, their military arm would get involved and set up an effective guard on the Site, making acquisition much more difficult for us."
"Their military arm?" she asked blankly. She knew the Bands had no such thing. And this was his verification that he was in fact talking to the other Transfer agent, not a ringer (no Ringer; no Band!), a fake whose job it was to interrogate him. If by chance this Tanya were not the one, this would throw her. The computer and certain key officers would be aware of the nature of the Bands, but that information would be classified secret, not because it really needed to be, but because that was the way the military worked.
"Military people can get pretty ugly when aroused," Ronald said. "If the Bands' president called up the guard, our chances of success would suffer."
"Oh, yes, their president," she agreed faintly. The Bands had no president. Was she catching on to his meaning? He did not know how intelligent Tanya was, and his nuances might be bypassing her. But he could not speak more plainly without alerting the eavesdropping officers.
"So I don't want to alert their administration," he continued. It was the Solarian administration he meant: his own government. He ran a double risk here: she might not catch on; or, if she did, she might not agree to the ruse. She could ruin him by giving the lie to his comments if she chose to do so.
"Yes, it would not be good to alert their military," Tanya agreed finally. "That could lead to lethal complications."
It seemed she had it, and was going along. Solarian traitors were mindwiped or executed, depending on the situation. "So probably we should meet there and coordinate. We can't risk using their public communications system; we have to talk privately. Because if they catch on to our true nature—"
Tanya nodded. "Yes, I believe you are correct. We can't afford to have the Band military listening in on our plans. That wouldn't be safe at all."
"They'd interrogate us and disband us in prompt order," Ronald said. If she betrayed him now...
"They would indeed. How shall I locate you there? What color is your wife? My husband is blue. I'm orange."
"I'm green. My wife is yellow. So we can't conveniently match colors. Could we meet at some known planetary landmark? Where some privacy exists? So that the military cannot intercept—"
"Maze Mountain," she said.
"I don't know where—"
"You can inquire. I'll meet you beside the orange spire."
Convenient enough, since orange was her color. "Agreed." But he wondered whether there really was such a place as Maze Mountain. Was she putting him off? Because if—
What choice did he have? He had taken the plunge, and hinted to her his true attitude. She seemed to agree, but if this were a ruse on her part, it hardly mattered whether she betrayed him in System Sirius or in System Band. He would simply have to proceed on hope and faith. If he did not get arrested for treason here, and if there was a Maze Mountain there, she was probably with him.
Unless she turned him in privately, and still met him there, giving him further rope to hang himself...
Well, he had approached this problem at a tangent, obliquely. He hadn't found any better way. He had to try, to take the risks. The alternative was to participate in the destruction of the finest society he had known.
Chapter 12
Double Circle
Rondl found himself in Cirl's embrace. "Hey, I'm not drifting!" he flashed.
She released him immediately, then moved down the line far enough to obtain a suitable angle on Eclat for flashing back at him. "Rondl! You have recovered!"
Suddenly he realized his Band host had been left unattended. That must have been a horror for Cirl! "I have recovered," he agreed. "But I have been in nightmare. Tell me what happened here."
"We were sleeping when you drifted off the line," she said. "I tried to wake you, but you would not revive. I brought you back to the line, but still you were blank. I was horrified. I realized that the strain of this unsocial campaign has been very great, and that you bore up under it without disbanding, as no other Band could do, but that it had finally been too much for you and your aura had taken leave of your body. But you had not disbanded. I remembered how strange some of your memories have been—so there was hope that you were away in that strangeness, and that you would return when your aura recovered. So I held your body
, keeping it on the line, waiting for that recovery, refusing to believe you were gone forever even though—oh, I was so afraid!"
"That I can appreciate!" Should he tell her the truth, or pretend this had been an aberration? Her explanation was close enough to stand.
"Oh, Rondl—if you should disband, I don't know what would become of me or of our species! I think we would all have to join you."
Join him in oblivion? For they could not transfer to Monster hosts the way he could. That decided him. He had to be honest with Cirl, whatever it cost him personally; she was the one he loved. "Cirl, had you not helped me, I would have perished." At least his Band host would have, making it impossible for him to return, which amounted to the same thing. "I must tell you the whole story, though you may find much of it painful."
"You have always been fair with me," she flashed gladly.
"Cirl, I have recovered my memory."
That dimmed her color. "You know whom you are? You have other commitments?"
Yes, this was going to be difficult. "I do, and I do. But I also have commitments to you and to the species of Band. I now have two lives to reconcile. I fear you will not like what I have learned about myself."
"You have to leave me?" she flashed tragically.
"No! I am not leaving you!" Yet, he added mentally, feeling guilty.
"Then the rest I can tolerate."
He hoped she was right. Actually, she was not prone to disband lightly, for she had not done so when rejected by her former male friend, or when chased by the Kratch. But this might be a sterner test. "I must go to a rendezvous." But that had not been what he intended to say; he was evading the issue.
"I will go with you! Where is it?"
Go with him? Meet the other Monster in Band guise? Yet how could he prevent this? "The Maze Mountain." Would she know of it? Did it even exist? Perhaps he had no problem, in that sense.
"I can guide you there!" she flashed. "Whom must you meet?"
Viscous Circle Page 17
