* * * * *
"Scared sheep," Y'Nor said when Brenn was gone. "Tomorrow he'll say
that he prayed and his god told him what to do--which will be to save
his neck by doing as I command."
"I don't know--" Kane said doubtfully. "I think you're wrong about his
conscience folding so easily."
"_You_ think?" Y'Nor asked. "Perhaps I should remind you that the
ability to think is usually characteristic of commanders rather than
sub-ensigns. You will not be asked to try to think beyond the small
extent required to comprehend simple commands."
Kane sighed with weary resignation. An unexpected encounter with an
Alkorian battleship had sent the Vogarian cruiser fleeing through the
unexplored Whirlpool star cluster--Y'Nor and Kane the two surviving
commissioned officers--with results of negative value to those most
affected: the world of the Saint had been accidentally discovered and
he, Kane, had risen from sub-ensign to the shakily temporary position
of second-in-command.
Y'Nor spoke again:
"Since Vogarian commanders do not go out and mingle with the natives
of a subject world, you will act as my representative. I'll let Brenn
sweat until tomorrow, then you will go see him. In that, and in all
subsequent contacts with the natives, you will keep in mind the fact
that I shall hold you personally responsible for any failure of my
program."
* * * * *
The next afternoon, two hours before the deadline, Kane went out into
the sweet spring air of the world the Saints had named Sanctuary.
It was a virgin world, rich in the resources needed by Vogar, with
twenty thousand Saints as the primary labor supply. It was also, he
thought, a green and beautiful world; almost a familiar world. The
cruiser stood at the upper edge of the town and in the late afternoon
sun the little white and brown houses were touched with gold, half
hidden in the deep azure shadows of the tall trees and flowering vines
that bordered the gently curving streets.
Restlessness stirred within him as he looked at them. It was like
going back in time to the Lost Islands, that isolated little region of
Vogar that had eluded collectivization until the year he was sixteen.
It had been at the same time of year, in the spring, that the State
Unity forces had landed. The Lost Island villages had been drowsing in
the sun that afternoon, as this town was drowsing now--
He forced the memories from his mind, and the futile restlessness they
brought, and went on past a golden-spired church to a small cottage
that was almost hidden in a garden of flowers and giant silver ferns.
Brenn met him at the door, his manner very courteous, his eyes
dark-shadowed with weariness as though he had not slept for many
hours, and invited him inside.
When they were seated in the simply-furnished room, Brenn said, "You
came for my decision, sir?"
"The commander sent me for it."
Brenn folded his thin hands, which seemed to have the trembling
sometimes characteristic of the aged.
"Yesterday evening when I came from the ship, I prayed for guidance
and I saw that I could only abide by the Golden Rule: _Do unto others
as you would have them do unto you._"
"Which means," Kane asked, "that you will do what?"
"Should we of the Church be stranded upon an alien world, our fuel
supply almost gone, we would ask for help. By our own Golden Rule we
can do no less than give it."
"Eighteen hours ago I issued the order for full-scale, all-out fuel
production. I've been up all night and day checking the operation."
Kane stared, surprised that Y'Nor should have so correctly predicted
Brenn's reaction. He tried to see some change in the old man, some
evidence of the personal fear that must have broken him so quickly,
but there was only weariness, and a gentleness.
"So much fuel--" Brenn said. "Is Vogar still at war with Alkoria?"
Kane nodded.
"Once I saw some Alkorian prisoners of war on Vogar," Brenn said.
"They are a peaceful, doglike race. They never wanted to go to war
with Vogar."
Well--they still didn't want war but on Alkoria were Elusium ores and
other resources that the Vogarian State had to have before it could
carry out its long-frustrated ambition of galactic conquest.
"I'll go, now," Kane said, getting out of his chair, "and see what
you're having done. The commander doesn't take anybody's word for
anything."
* * * * *
Brenn called a turbo-car and driver to take him to the multi-purpose
factory, which was located a short distance beyond the other side of
town. The driver stopped before the factory's main office, where a
plump, bald man was waiting, his scalp and glasses gleaming in the
sunshine.
"I'm Dr Larue, sir," he greeted Kane. He had a face that under normal
circumstance would have been genial. "Father Brenn said you were
coming. I'm at your service, to show you what we're doing."
They went inside the factory, where the rush of activity was like a
beehive. Machines and installations not needed for fuel production
were being torn out as quickly as possible, others taking their place.
The workers--he craned his neck to verify his astonished
first-impression.
All of them were women.
"Father Brenn's suggestion," Larue said. "These girls are as competent
as men for this kind of work and their use here permits the release of
men to the outer provinces to procure the raw materials. As you know,
our population is small and widely scattered--"
A crash sounded as a huge object nearby toppled and fell. Kane took an
instinctive backward step, and bumped into something soft.
"Oh ... excuse me, sir!"
He turned, and had a confused vision of an apologetic smile in a
pretty young face, of red curls knocked into disarray--and of
amazingly short shorts and a tantalizingly wispy halter.
She recovered the notebook she had dropped and hurried on, leaving a
faint cloud of perfume in her wake and a disturbing memory of curving,
golden tan legs and a flat little stomach that had been exposed both
north and south to the extreme limits of modesty.
"A personnel supervisor from Beachville," Larue said. "She was
sunbathing when the plane arrived to pick her up and had no time to
obtain other clothing. Father Brenn firmly insisted upon losing not
one minute of time during this emergency."
A crane rumbled into view and its grapples seized the huge object that
had fallen.
"Our central air-conditioning unit," Larue said. "It had to go."
"You're putting something else in its place, of course?"
"Oh yes. We must have more space but Father Brenn opposed the plan of
building an annex as too dangerously time consuming. The only
alternative is to tear out everything not absolutely essential."
Kane left shortly afterward, satisfied that the Saints were doing as
Brenn had said.
* * * * *
He went back out in the spring sunshine where the turbo-car was still
waiting for him, debated briefly with himself, and dismissed the
driver. After so many weeks in the prison-like ship, it would be
pleasant to walk again.
[Illustration]
A grassy, tree-covered ridge ran like the swell of a green sea
between the plant and the town. He stopped on top of it, where the
town was almost hidden from view, and looked out across the wide
valley. Shadows moved lazily across it as cotton-puff clouds drifted
down the blue dome of the sky, great white birds like swans were
soaring overhead, calling to one another in voices like the singing of
violins, bringing again the memories of the Lost Islands--
"And the Vogarian lord gazed upon his world and found it good!"
He swung around, his hand dropping to his holstered blaster, and
looked into the green, mocking eyes of a tawny-haired girl. She was
beautiful, in the savage way that the hill leopards of Vogar were
beautiful, and her hand was on a pistol in her belt.
Her eyes flickered from his blaster up to his face, bright with
challenge.
"Want to try it?" she asked.
She wore a short skirt of some rough material and her knees were
dusty, as though she had walked for a long way. These things he
noticed only absently, his eyes going back to the bold, beautiful
face. For twenty years he had been accustomed to the women of Vogar;
colorless in their Party uniforms and men's haircuts, made even more
drab by the masculine mannerisms they affected. Not since the spring
the Lost Islands died had he seen a girl like the one before him.
"Well?" she asked. "Do you think you'll know me next time?"
He walked to her, while she watched him with catlike wariness.
"Hand me that pistol," he ordered.
"Try to take it, you Vogarian ape!"
He moved, and a moment later she was sitting on the ground, her eyes
wide with dismayed surprise as he shoved the pistol in his own belt.
"Resisting a Vogarian with a deadly weapon calls for the death
penalty," he said. "I suppose you know what I can do?"
She got up, defiance like a blaze about her.
"I'll tell you what you can do--you can go to hell!"
The thought came to him that there might be considerable pleasure in
laying her over his knee and raising some blisters where they would do
her the most good. He regretfully dismissed the idea as too
undignified for even a sub-ensign and asked:
"Who are you, and what are you doing here with that pistol?"
She hesitated, then answered with insolent coolness:
"My name is Barbara Loring. I heard that you Vogarians had demanded
that we agree to surrender. I came down from the hills to disagree."
"Is a resistance force meeting here?"
"Do you think you could make me tell you?"
"There are ways--but I'm not here to use them. I am not your enemy."
A little of the hostility faded from her face and she asked, "But how
could a Vogarian ever not be our enemy?"
He could find no satisfactory answer to the question.
"I can tell you this," she said. "I know of no resistance
organization. I can also tell you that we're not the race of cowards
you think and we'll fight the instant Father Brenn gives the word."
"For one who speaks respectfully of Brenn," he said, "your recent
words and actions weren't very religious and refined."
Fire flashed in the green eyes again. "Up in the Azure Mountains,
where I come from, we're not very refined and we like being that way!"
"And why do you carry guns?" he asked.
"Because all along our frontier lines are rhino-stags, cliff bears,
thunder hawks, and a lot of other overgrown carnivora that don't like
us--that's why."
"I see." He took the pistol from his belt and held it out to her. "Go
back to your mountains, where you belong, before you do something to
get yourself executed."
* * * * *
Y'Nor, waiting impatiently in the ship, was grimly pleased by the news
of Brenn's change of attitude.
"Exactly as I predicted, as you no doubt recall. How long until they
can have a thousand units of fuel produced?"
"Larue estimated fourteen days at best."
Y'Nor tapped his thick fingers on his desk, scowling thoughtfully. "As
little as seven extra days might force Vogar to accept the Alkorian
peace terms because of lack of fuel--the natives can work twice as
hard as they expected to. Tell old Brenn they will be given exactly
seven days from sunrise tomorrow.
"And summon Dalon and Graver. I want them to make use of every man on
the ship for a twenty-four hour guard-and-inspection system in the
plant. The natives will get no opportunities for stalling or
sabotage."
* * * * *
Brenn was writing at his book-laden table when Kane went into his
cottage the next morning.
"These are called edicts," Brenn said, after greeting him, "but I
possess no law-making powers and they are really only suggestions."
Brenn shoved the paper to one side. The script was somewhat different
from that of Vogar.
_The Vogarian inspection and guard system is no more than an expected
precaution against sabotage. The Vogarians must be regarded as
potential friends who now treat us with suspicion and arrogance only
because they do not yet realize the sincerity of our desire to help
them to any extent short of surrender--_
Kane looked up from the uncompleted, surprisingly humble, edict and
Brenn asked:
"Your commander, sir--he is now pleased with our actions?"
"Not exactly. He will disintegrate a town seven days from sunrise this
morning if all the fuel isn't produced by then."
"_Seven_--only _seven_ days?" There was startled disbelief on Brenn's
face. "But how can he expect us to produce so much fuel in so short a
time?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry--it's something I would have argued against
if I hadn't had too much sense to try."
"Seven days--" Brenn said again. "We can only pray that God will let
it be time enough."
* * * * *
Kane walked on to the plant. The hilltop where he had met the girl was
deserted and he felt a vague disappointment.
The plant was hot without the air-conditioner, especially in the
vicinity of the electronic roasters. The girls looked flushed and
uncomfortable, but for the redhead who still wore her scanty sunsuit.
The armed Vogarians looked incongruously out of place among the girls
and were sweating profusely. Kane made a mental note to have them
ordered into tropical uniforms.
He found Dalon prowling like a wolf among his guards.
"It's inconceivable that these women could ever be a menace," Dalon
said, "but I'm taking no chances."
He saw Graver, the cruiser's Chief Technician; a thin, dry man who
seemed to be as emotionless as the machines and electronic circuits
that were his life.
"They're doing everything with astonishing competence," Graver said.
"My technicians are watching like hawks, though."
Larue was not in his office. His secretary, a brown-eyed woman of
strikingly intelligent appearance, said, "I'm sorry, sir--Dr. Larue
had to go back to town for a few minutes. May I give him your
message?"
"No, thanks," he said. "Father Brenn is probably performing that
unpleasant chore right now."
* * * * *
Since Dalon and Graver seemed to have the situation at the plant well
in hand, Kane decided to make a tour of the outer provinces where the
ores were being mined. An efficient plant would be worthless if it did
not receive sufficient ore.
He spent four days on the inspection tour; much longer than he had
expected to be gone but made necessary by the fact that the small
Elusium mines were widely scattered in rugged, roadless areas and he
had to walk most of the distance. The single helicopter on Sanctuary
was being used to fly the ore out but it was operating on a schedule
that caused him to miss it each time.
Each mine was being worked by full day-and-night crews; in fact, by
more men than necessary. The reason for that, and for the way the men
silently withheld their hostility, was made apparent in a bit of
conversation between two miners that he overheard one day:
_"... So why all of us here when not this many are needed?"_
_"They say Father Brenn wanted to get all the men out of town, away
from the cruiser, so there would be no trouble--and you know there
would have been if we had stayed. He wants to get the cruiser on its
way back to Vogar, they say, so we can get busy producing weapons to
fight the Occupation force...."_
He returned on the fifth evening of the allotted seven days and
stopped by Brenn's cottage before going on to the ship. The old man
was working in his garden, his trembling hands trying to tie up a
red-flowered vine.
Kane tied it for him and he said, "Thank you, sir. Did you find the
mining to be as I had said?"
"I found more than that. You know, don't you, that Y'Nor will return
with the Occupation force a hundred days after leaving here?"
"Yes--I know that that is his intention."
"I understand that you're going to try to build weapons while he's
gone. Don't, if you think anything of your people, let them do it.
Nothing you could build in a hundred days would last a minute against
a cruiser's disintegrators."
"I know," Brenn said. "We are supposed to choose between bloody,
hopeless resistance and eternal slavery, aren't we? But why should
either fate befall a peaceful race?"