Smith said, "That's an odd way to express your elite tastes, Kard, but I
can understand how you feel. Earth knew a lot of killing in its day."
To Sog-chafka, Smith said, "You accused me of using psi-power in Wortan
fighting. It was kind of you to recommend clemency. However, I deny the
accusation."
"He has psi-power," screamed Jorak of Gyra from the top bench. He shook
green fists.
"You said only a few Earthmen had psi-power," Sog-chafka said.
"I didn't. I said it's never used on Earth. There's a difference."
"You said you...."
"Didn't use it," Smith said. "What psi-power you have, came from Earth.
We of Earth developed it. But it's been a long time since we have
bothered with it. But though I'm a little bit rusty now, I'll show
you--"
None of them ever knew what a dreadful moment that was for Smith ... who
knew his capacity for psi-power, but had never bothered to use it
before.
He concentrated.
Twenty Dominant women of Bortinot fell writhing on the mats.
They writhed for a while, then got up and sat down again. Perspiration
was heavy on their faces, and they panted heavily, and their eyes were
slightly glazed with psychic shock.
Smith's head ached. But he would never show it. He was rusty all right.
Sog-chafka and Kard shifted once and seemed uneasy.
Smith said. "I did that to demonstrate a point, which is that if I want
to use psi-power here, I'll not fool around with any puny amount of it
such as I was accused of doing earlier. I prefer fighting the Wortan
way. Psi-power fighting is pretty unhealthy stuff. Minds getting all
wrapped up together in combat. It's finally like beating yourself...."
Smith laughed at the two giants. "Well," he said.
Kard rushed. Smith dropped to hands and knees, pinched Kard's legs, held
them perpendicular from the knees down. Kard's rushing weight carried
his body on over. His knees popped. He screamed and fell moaning on the
mat.
Sog-chafka was already rushing and he tried to duck as Smith lunged
upward. The sound in the room was cracking and sharp. Sog-chafka, the
instructor in Wortan fighting, stumbled back and his thick arms dug at
the air and a laxness showed under the skin-tight black uniform. Blood
ran on the mats as Sog-chafka refused to go down any further than his
knees. His head hung loosely and he slowly raised his blood-shot eyes.
His massive face twisted. Kard of Shilon lay groaning a little, nursing
dislocated knees.
Sog-chafka remained bent, powerful thighs driving as his toes dug into
the mat in a pounding, hurtling running dive, head down, hands reaching.
It was a ferocious thing to see. Smith could hear the gasps of
anticipation as he waited.
* * * * *
Smith chopped down with cupped hands as he stepped aside. He brought his
knee up into Sog-chafka's face and the instructor spun crazily across
the mat, his body sinking lower and lower and finally sliding forward on
his belly and lying there without moving at all. "Brute strength," Smith
said, "is what you want on Wortan."
Smith glanced at Geria. "As you said earlier, Geria, there's something
glorious about fighting tooth and nail. That's what you said."
Smith's foot was jerked from under him as Kard heaved. Smith's heavy
body thudded on the mat. Before he could twist around, Kard's powerful
arm was around his throat. Smith's wind was cut off. He felt his eyes
bulge, and he knew that Kard would kill him. "I think, Earthsmith, it
only right you should come down here with me!"
Smith put his right hand under Kard's right elbow. He clenched Kard's
right wrist with the other hand. He pushed up with his right hand,
heaved down with his left. Kard screamed a second time as his elbow
popped.
He had to let go or his arm would break, so he let go. As Kard rolled
free, Smith aimed for that vital point just to the left of the tip of
Kard's chin. The back of Kard's head thudded on the mat, his eyes rolled
up.
Smith got to his feet. He could hear Jorak of Gyra yelling. "He used
psi! He used psi!"
Smith hated to acquire another headache, but he felt this had to be
done. He concentrated on Jorak who started to sweat. Then Jorak came
down to the mats and began to writhe and hop around in a weird and
formless dance. Round and round the mats Jorak danced, his face working
fitfully.
Sog-chafka was on one knee. His face was swelling and blood ran from his
chin. He grinned and a broken tooth fell out. He looked up at the row of
spectators. "He didn't use any psi on me. I guess you could say it
wasn't necessary."
There was no applause from the spectators. There was a kind of bitter
ferment working, a wonderment and a suspicion and a dull kind of shock
that blanks out facing unpleasant truths.
Smith started past the first row, then stopped and looked down at the
woman. He'd miss her, she had seen to that, and she had only been
jesting. He'd think of how it might have been, at another time, in
another way--but he'd forget in time. You forgot and you grew.
Especially, when you had a job to do.
"There's one thing this school has," he said, "that Earth doesn't have
... and never did ... and probably never will. And that is Geria of
Bortinot."
When he went out, she was staring after him with an odd expression he
couldn't identify. And behind her, Jorak of Gyra danced round and round
the mats.
* * * * *
The Registrar's lights blinked with what might almost have been
nervousness.
"Smith of Earth. Item: Garnot of Jlob has withdrawn his recommendation
that you leave the school. However, his transtellar history class will
have a new instructor for a week. His name is Khrom of Khaldmar.
"Item: Sog-chafka of Wortan withdraws his accusation that you used
psi-power in Wortan fighting. Wortan fighting classes have been dropped
for two weeks.
"Item: Kard of Shilon does not wish to meet you again in Wortan.
"Item: Jorak of Gyra and Geria of Bortinot do not question your
mentality and formally request that you release Jorak from psi-power
suggestion which is causing Jorak to dance himself to death."
Smith listened rather absently and then went to the window and looked
out over the strange landscape.
"Smith of Earth ... as yet you have not taken the battery of tests here,
and the tests will determine your stay here. The choice is yours. We can
request your withdrawal from the school, or we can keep you here. Your
Dominant classification has been thoroughly validated. We are sure you
would be happy here, and the tests will be presented in such a way that
you will...."
Well, he hadn't let himself down. He'd defended his integrity as a human
being. But he'd been told not to let Earth down.
Well, would he be letting Earth down by leaving? Would he be? If he
returned and said that the galaxy had a school but we'd better not send
students because the school is decadent--could Earth stand up in the
face of its pricked bubble?
What is, and what is not, letting your planet down? Smith knew it for an
almost meaningless phrase, standing here before the clicking Registrar.
The important thing was to learn, for from learning are sowed the seeds
of progress, and surely he had learned.
Yes, he had learned a great deal about the Galactic culture.
The Registrar's voice droned on, being very logical and again petulant
in a feminine way. It was a compliant machine. It got along well,
maintaining a nice balance, with everyone. With Dominants it became
slightly recessive. With Receptives, it was just a little bit Dominant.
He watched the monstrous blotch of the red star, swelling and crimson,
old and fading, yet filling a quarter of the sky, like a fat old man,
getting fatter while his brain rotted away in his skull.
He turned as the door opened. His breath shortened as she came toward
him. Smith rubbed his bald pate, and felt the heat rise to his face.
"You made a fool of me, Smith," she whispered. "Now you're blushing ...
and that's just an act isn't it? You're still making a fool of me."
"No," he said. "The way I felt about you and the things I said, I meant
them. I still do."
"But you let me use that psi-power on you ... and ... and if you'd
wanted to ... you could have...." He stared. She was sobbing a little.
He had felt it before, but the feeling was strong enough now to motivate
action. He put his arms about her, protectively. He looked out the
window at the cragged horizon and the dying red star behind.
"The psi-power," he said. "I didn't realize I had it then. When you used
it ... and later, the dream-empathy, it stirred up a lot of old
capacities. I wasn't trying to fool anyone. I love you, Geria of
Bortinot. And I'm not fooling...."
"_Your decision, Smith of Earth...._"
Well, he had learned a great deal about Galactic culture, so what should
he do? A duty to Earth, to civilization. He had learned:
... That the superior cultures out here among the stars were a myth.
... That something had gone haywire in the startrails, that everyone you
met was either psychotic or highly neurotic by Earth standards.
... That the exceptions might be the hope of the Galaxy. But they were
very few.
... That Earth had better seek out the reasons for all this, try to
eliminate them at their sources if possible, but certainly keep them
from contaminating the home planet.
... That Earth had a big job, but if he came back and reported and
worked at it, he might convince Earth she was up to it.
That was one way.
"_Your decision, Smith of Earth, the battery of tests or...._"