"Sir, I just want to know what happened. Why do the people feel they
have been deceived, and by whom? Why are all the incorporated men in
danger of their lives?"
"It is the corporation-men who have deceived the public." It was a
flat statement by Erol, without rancor or sympathy. "They are, in
consequence, subject to the wrath of the people who relied upon them."
The bewilderment in the young man's eyes deepened. "How could they
deceive the public? Why? They had everything to gain from earning
luxury pay for their stockholders. Why did they stop?"
As if at a signal, Erol relaxed and his weariness became evident. Yma
relaxed somewhat but remained alert.
"Why they did," Erol replied, "is a private matter that only each of
those men knows. The fact is that they, myself included, did--and now
we must pay."
"You sir? But you were always such an eminent figure. I've admired
you from childhood as being one of the best of the planet's many
scientists. Your researches in sociology have led the empire. Why
should you suddenly stop your writing?"
"Fine flattery, son, but it will not avail you. I also see that you are
not completely in the dark. You must have been investigating or you
wouldn't know that I have a half-finished book that never got to the
publisher on time.
"Anyway, the reasons are inconsequential, now. It is done, and we must
consider the consequences. And we must consider you. What do you intend
to do, return to Klynos, or stay here?"
"You don't get out of it that easily," Florin said. "Yes, consider me.
Consider me as a citizen of this planet, a believer in its principles.
I am no idiot that can't understand or won't accept the truth.
"You are a sociologist. Here we have one of the most paradoxical
sociological situations imaginable on our planet. There obviously are
many unknown factors. You know them--you must. Just consider me a
student and explain the functionings of these phenomena."
"You try my patience, Mr. Brite. I am accepting you at face value, but
you are a stranger to me. What I wish to keep to myself is entirely my
business. As I say, I am accepting you, and trying to help you--as we
all must do in this mess. Now what do you intend to do?"
With a fatalistic shrug, Florin replied, "I cannot go back to Klynos.
My education was paid for by my stock in corporation-men here. That is
now, as you know, worthless."
Yma spoke to him for the first time. "Then don't you feel resentment
towards the men who--who betrayed you?" Her eyes awaited his answer.
Florin smiled. "I do not feel that I have been betrayed. I know that
the corporation-men, representing the most intelligent element of
Lyrane, wouldn't do this thing without a sound reason."
Erol said, "Apparently you wish to throw in your lot with us, rather
than the mob."
"My loyalty to my teacher and his associates compels me to do so. It is
also my personal desire."
"You won't get any luxury pay for that loyalty," Yma snapped.
"That's unfair. You know Tomlin always advocated proper living from a
moral obligation rather than for mercenary reward."
Their conversation was interrupted by a faint humming. Out over the
valley three gyros were approaching at a low altitude.
Bitterly, Yma said, "Apparently Tomlin's servant has talked to other
people--or perhaps Mr. Brite here--."
Florin shrugged again. "I have no defense except to say that I talked
to no one. Either you believe me or you don't."
Erol chimed in, "You'll have to excuse my daughter; she's upset. I
expected them to discover me long before this. This abandoned hunting
lodge was too well known."
Yma's mind jumped on that. Yes, she thought, How well it is known--to
me. My childhood is stuffed full of memories of this place, all
pleasant. I know the woods around here better than the streets of the
city. Now it will be the scene of this furtive hiding, suspense, and
God knows what new violence.
While she was thinking, Erol was still talking. "I will ask you, since
you are young and more adept in this sort of emergency. What shall we
do?"
Florin glanced at Yma, and saw that the bitterness had left her in the
face of danger. She too looked anxiously to him for help.
"If we stay here," he said, "we will be killed without question. I
have no doubt that those ships are part of the mob. Even if it is the
police, and I doubt there are any left after the rioting, they will
imprison us."
Erol said, "This is a hunting lodge. There are some weapons here. We
have nothing but your gyro to escape in, and it's too slow. I can see
that those are police gyros."
"Then we'll fight," Yma declared and rushed inside, with Florin and
Erol following her.
"This place is not much for defense," Florin said while they rummaged
for rifles, for nothing more deadly was allowed outside the hands of
the Galactic Patrol. "I suggest we make it seem peaceful and surprise
them."
"Good idea, boy," Erol said. "If you want, I'll sit outside as a decoy."
"That's great!" Florin said quickly, ignoring Yma's protest. "If they
see you, they will probably land and talk; but if nobody's in sight,
they might bomb us."
The three worked well together, swiftly and efficiently. Erol sat on
the veranda, in the open, with a pistol under a lap robe, while Yma and
Florin stationed themselves inside.
The three gyros approached cautiously. They were the large black type
used by the planetary police, but from the inexpert way they were
handled all three at the lodge knew they were not bearing police.
They carried bombs, the one weapon allowable to planetary police by
the Galactic Patrol, but the men in them would have nothing more than
firearms. Therefore it was imperative to get them on the ground.
They circled over the lodge, with two finally landing and one remaining
aloft. Florin padded over to Yma, and whispered for her to station
herself in some bushes by the lodge. He told her to try to shoot down
the gyro above when firing began.
Men piled out of the ships which had landed, and approached the lodge.
They spread out and swiftly encircled the building. They all carried
rifles. Florin estimated that there were about twenty of them. Three of
them approached Erol.
"Are you Erol Garbin?"
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"We are arresting you."
"What for?"
"For betraying the confidence of the people."
"May I see your warrant?"
"We don't need a warrant. We are a people's committee, come to take you
to a people's court, where you will undoubtedly be found guilty and
executed."
"And what if I refuse to recognize your authority?"
"We will have to kill you. Resisting arrest--"
What happened next surprised Florin with its swiftness. Erol flipped
the gun from under the robe and with three snap shots dropped all three
men.
Florin did not let surprise hamper him, for Erol's shots were echoed by
his own rifle, which caught two men who were further away.
As the rest of the attackers dove for cover, Florin was pleased to hear
the blast of a rifle from the side of the lodge, and the whine of a
shattered blade as the gyro plummeted to the ground.
Yma had done well, hitting where he told her, at the base of the props.
The moment of victory was rudely shattered by a volley of fire from the
men around the lodge.
As Erol sprang from his chair and dove towards the door, he was hit and
fell outside. Ignoring his wound he kicked over a table and used it
as a shield, returning fire. Florin's thought of rescuing him was cut
short by Erol's yell, "Get to the back of the lodge. They may rush it."
Florin made a dash for it, finding Erol's words true. The attackers
were moving in. He still heard firing from the front and side, so he
felt reassured.
He was lost in the blind ritual of firing at moving objects. His whole
mind was devoted to the problems of loading clips, changing windows
to keep everything covered, and trying to stay out of the path of the
viciously whining bullets.
This was adventure and excitement. There was the crash of the rifles,
the nasty whistle of ricochets, the moving bodies, sometimes jerking
ludicrously when hit. Yet, to Florin, it was just a job, as it always
is in the face of danger with every man. Just a specialized job with a
very high incentive.
Staying alive.
Florin was surprised when he realized that he had disposed of all the
attackers on his side. Despite their numbers, they were no match for
the trio in the lodge. Florin was an expert marksman, and Erol and Yma
had done enough hunting to be quite proficient. On the other side of
the ledger, the people's committee were completely new to the business,
some of them never having held a gun, and certainly not used to combat
in woods.
When he went up front, he found that Erol had done a magnificent
job despite his wound, beating back several attacks, and killing or
wounding all his men. But he had received two more wounds and he was
lying on the flagstone terrace in a litter of blood and cartridge
cases.
The firing from the bushes at the side had stopped too, and Yma came
rushing up, to kneel beside her father. She screamed at Florin to get
bandages, but it was too late.
In the pastoral woods, men had fought and died, and now they felt
tragedy. But the sky was still blue, and in a nearby dale, a bird
warbled freely.
* * * * *
Late that night, Florin and Yma stopped at a small cabin in the
mountains, finding it deserted. They had been travelling on foot since
the fight, leaving the gyros as too obvious a method of travel.
Yma was still upset over her father's death, and Florin had remained
quiet in consideration. The mountain paths were rocky and steep, and
they were both exhausted. After a cold meal, they sat in the gathering
darkness in the cabin and talked.
"I know it's inconsiderate of me to talk of it," Florin said, "but
don't you feel resentment against the men who killed your father?"
She shook her head and said, "I can't feel resentment, I know that it
was just circumstances. Those men felt justified in what they did--and
maybe they were."
"How can you be so cold-blooded?" he said half-angrily. "Killing is
never justified, and ignorance and violence against intelligent and
kindly men are the supreme injustice."
"Why bother discussing the right and wrong of it," she said wearily.
"It is all over with, all so meaningless--and easily forgotten."
"That's just it," Florin said earnestly. "You've got to think about it,
decide who was right and who was wrong. You've got to decide so that
you can base your future actions and attitudes on that. You can't just
mark it off the books, for it will still be in your head, all jumbled
emotion and no sense."
He was trying desperately to bring her out of apathy. He knew that
the incident and all of its contributing factors must be clinically
analyzed, for both their sakes.
Again she shook her head. "No, they were right, they were betrayed.
Some of those people had their life's saving of luxury pay invested in
the corporation-men, and when those men failed them, they lost their
savings and their futures. Poverty is a treacherous catalyst, it makes
men do weird and horrible things. Common tricks of psychology added
to that, make the whole mess into a primitive society of revenge and
hatred."
Florin saw he had her on the right track, but ran his hand through his
hair in bewilderment as he asked, "But why? We can see the result, but
nobody is willing to tell the cause. I've got to know."
She looked at him, barely discernable in the dark cabin, then said,
"Why are you so interested? Why did you help us?"
"I told you. I was a student of Tomlin, and a believer in the
principles of this planet. I saw it produce a society where
intelligence and virtue were manifest--whether for mercenary or other
reasons is inconsequential. It worked, and it made a wonderful world. I
wanted to do my part in that world--my world.
"Now I want to know _why_ my world has crumbled into a screaming
madhouse of violence."
"Yes, I can understand all too well how you feel. It's really horrible
when you have grown up in a society, learned about its every intricacy,
its principles, and come to have faith in it--then see it suddenly
disintegrate.
"You come to think of your society as the universe, nothing else is as
permanent as your world, your people. You make plans and move through
that society, believing in it with a faith stronger than any religious
faith--for you can see and understand it constantly.
"Then something like this happens. The familiar still exists, but
palled with suffering and horror. People you have known suddenly become
beasts. Your world has collapsed. And even if you know the reason, it
doesn't seem possible, the reason is out of a textbook and unreal, but
the disillusionment and despair are all too real.
"And from such a disintegration, you learn one important thing--how
abysmally ignorant you are of the society that you've lived in, and of
people in general."
There was a long silence.
Finally she said, "I believe in you, and I believe you should know the
reason."
It was a strange scene as the two people, dirty and tired, sat in the
crude cabin by the moonlight and discussed the fate of a world.
"When this planet was colonized," Yma began, "everyone laughed at
us, and said that our radical socio-economic system couldn't work.
All types of people started here. Some were merely looking for a
final refuge, some were criminals and confidence men out to 'take'
this 'starry-eyed flock of crackpots'. Most of them, though, were
solid citizens, who believed that this system of paying a man for his
intelligence and virtue on a carefully regulated basis was the proper
compromise between reality and altruism to achieve a Utopia.
"As you know, it did produce a peaceful, cultural world that has few
if any equals in the galaxy. There was one dangerous element in the
plan though. Men were paid for their ability and it was money that was
used; and wherever there is money there is dishonesty and greed. We had
security and precautions against such things disrupting us internally,
but we never counted on outside interference.
"We joined that galactic company known as Universal Relief. Our
government maintained that it performs the highest type of good
deeds, they do it for profit, nevertheless it was still a beneficial
organization. Its motive of meritorious work for profit was quite
similar to our own economic structure, so we invested heavily in the
company, both on an individual and a governmental level. We also gave
them a large premium, because of our--well, our eccentricity. We were
considered unstable, and I guess the company knew what it was talking
about." The last comment was with a wry bitterness that stung Florin.
"Anyway, in the last few years a rival company has sprung up. This
company, Galactic Aid, has made great strides and is a serious
competitor to Universal Relief.
"--The managers of Galactic Aid thought that if they could take our
account and investment from Universal, Galactic Aid would have a
distinct advantage and eventually break their competitor. They tried
salesmanship first, but we were loyal to the original company.
"Then they tried other means."
Until then her story had been told in the dispassionate voice of a
mechanical reader, but when she continued, there was vehemence.
"In a galactic company there is inconceivable power, and inconceivable
greed. They are willing, and able, to go to any lengths to gain an
economic advantage over a rival. The fate of one planet, more or less,
is irrelevant.
"Galactic Aid's method of destroying us for that advantage was very
crude and very simple; but effective because of its simplicity.
"As you know, the ratio of corporation-men to citizens here is
very disproportionate, and the economy of the planet is vested in
comparatively few individuals. These few people were the ones Galactic
Aid attacked.
"They sent their agents to the corporation-men, my father included,
and told them to stop research, writing, art, or whatever they were
doing to earn their luxury pay. They promised protection if they were
threatened by the people, and also promised full re-instatement after
normalcy had returned, plus a sizeable bonus for co-operating. The ones
who refused this offer, were threatened, each one personally and their
families. It was mass terrorization, and they actually killed a few to
prove their seriousness.
"Because of our social structure, this plan could, and did work. There
are only 224 corporation-men with over a hundred stockholders. These
people are, of course, quite clannish and have little actual contact
with the masses. Therefore, this mass threat was heightened by the
unity of the small group that it affected.
"You know the rest. Under this pressure the incorporated men stopped
producing, the economy crumbled, and the riots began.
"We have developed a peaceful, cultural society, but no matter how
civilized and stabilized a society is, once you knock out the financial
props, the populace is going to go mad.
"The corporation-men didn't receive the promised protection. They soon
realized that they had been tricked, but it was too late. Galactic Aid
wanted them destroyed by the mob; they wanted murder and riots; and
they wanted a Class AA emergency which would drain Universal Relief's
resources.
"They wanted an economic debacle on Lyrane, thus cutting off a large
source of Universal's income.
"When the corporation-men tried to tell the people the truth, the mobs
called them liars and killed them."
Yma appeared to be more relaxed after she had relieved her burdened
mind. Florin, however, was stunned.
"I know it's terrible," she said, "but what can we do? What can anyone
do? Their plan has succeeded, and the planet is too far into chaos to
patch up things.
"There is nothing that can be done, so we have only individual
survival to consider."
Florin said, "I don't know what your personal plans are, but I've got
to go back to the cities. I've got work to do." She didn't question him.
The next morning, after a solid night's sleep, they separated. Yma
headed through the mountains to some relatives, while Florin struck out
for the capital.
* * * * *
The office of the new, self-appointed Planetary Governor of Lyrane was
quite busy. It was the disorganization of a new office, set up during
an emergency. And yet, it was an office, a recognizable political
mechanism.
Considering the murderous imbroglio that this planet had been facing,
such an office, even in disorganized form, was quite surprising.
Due to the confusion and a knack for bluffing, Florin Brite was able
to gain admittance to the Secretary-Governor's office. This official,
a former municipal police chief, was obviously impressed with his new
position. He was quite brusque to Florin.
"What is it man? I hope that it's important--don't want my time wasted.
We're frightfully busy."
"I can see that, sir. I merely wished to establish my classification in
the new administration."
"Good grief man!" the Secretary-Governor exploded. "We've published
classification lists. Do I have to tell every man, woman and child
their classification? Are you blind--or just too lazy to read?"
"My classification isn't listed," Florin said mildly.
"Isn't listed? What classification is that?"
"A scientist--and a former corporation-man."
Years of police work and interrogation had steeled the official. There
was no surprise shown. "We handle those cases directly, Mr. ah--ah--"
"Florin Brite."
"Mr. Brite, there is a feeling of--uh--well, touchiness about such
individuals so we handle their cases in confidence. I'm glad you came
here--"
"Yes, you're quite delighted," Florin was no longer mild. "You're also
quite amazed--for you had no idea that there were any corporation-men
left after the 'purge', a very thorough purge, I might add."
"Now, see what I mean about touchiness? We were not responsible, not
even involved in that mess. This new government is composed of citizens
who merely wish stability and sanity. Co-operation is our keynote--"
"Cut it. I don't need the party platform, I've read your handbills. I
just want to know, what about me?"
"Well, you will undoubtedly have to be put under some sort of
protective custody. There is still strong feeling--"
Their tete a tete was interrupted by a rushing clerk shouting wildly.
"They did it! Universal Relief finally declared it a Class AA!"
The clerk was brandishing a sheet of paper, which he proffered to the
Secretary, who took it with an expression of pleasure. His reading was
interrupted by Florin's voice.
"It seems highly unnecessary that we be declared Class AA now. You
people have done such a marvelous job of organizing an emergency
government that everything seems to be well under control."
"Nonsense man," the Secretary declared. "There is still isolated
fighting and rioting, even murder is not unusual."
"I merely wished to congratulate you on your speedy action. It was
almost as if this government was waiting to spring into existence." The
irony was very thinly veiled.
The Planetary Governor himself had entered the office while Florin was
speaking.