The faces of the lieutenants went blank, and one of them coughed as
though apologetically.
The Sov colonel looked from Joe to Max, and then back again, his face
assuming that expression so well known to Joe for so very long. The
aristocrat looking at one of lower class as though wondering what made
the fellow tick. Kossuth said, "But surely this, ah, chap, is a
servant, one of your, what do you call them, a _Lower_."
Max blinked unhappily and looked at Joe.
Joe Mauser said evenly, "I had heard the Sov-world was the Utopia of
the proletariat. However, gentlemen, Max Mainz is my friend as well as
my ... assistant."
The three officers murmured some things stiffly to Max, who, a Lower
born, was not overly nonplused by the situation. Zen, he knew the
three were Upper caste, what was Major Mauser getting into a tissy
about? He was given a seat in the front, where the chauffeur would
have once been, and the others took places in the rear, one of the
lieutenants dialing the hovercar's destination.
* * * * *
Joe Mauser said, "I am afraid my background is hazy, Colonel Kossuth.
You mentioned the Pink Army. You also mentioned your own fracases. I
knew you maintained an army, of course, but I thought the fracas was a
West development, in fact, your military attaches are usually on the
scornful side."
The two lieutenants grinned, but Kossuth said seriously, "Major, as
always, nations which hold each other at arm's length, use different
terminology to say much the same thing. It need not be confusing, if
one digs below to find reality. Perhaps, for a moment, we four can
lower barriers enough for me to explain that whilst in the West-world
you hold your fracases to"--he began enumerating on his fingers--"One,
settle disputes between business competitors, or between corporations
and unions. Two, to train soldiers for your defense requirements.
Three, to keep bemused a potentially dangerous lower class...."
"I object to that, colonel," one of the lieutenants said hotly.
The Sov officer ignored him. "Four, to dispose of the more aggressive
potential rebels, by allowing them to kill each other off in the
continual combat."
"That, sir, is simply not true," the lieutenant blurted. Joe couldn't
remember if he was Andersen or Dickson, even their names were similar.