He laughed--uneasily. "I'm going home to manage Hamilton Lord; it's
the largest trading company in the Federation. We have exclusive
franchises to develop almost five hundred planets. It's my duty,
Niaga; my responsibility; I can't shirk it."
"Why not--if you wanted to?"
"Because I'm Martin Lord; because I've been trained--No, it's something
I can't explain. You'll just have to take my word for it. Now tell me:
how should I go about negotiating a treaty with your people?"
"You spoke of the government, Martin Lord; I suppose you used the word
in a symbolic sense?"
"Your chieftain; your tribal leader--whatever name you have for them."
* * * * *
Her big, dark eyes widened in surprise. "Then you meant actual men? It's
a rather unusual use of the word, isn't it? For us, government is a
synonym for law."
"Of course, but you must have leaders to interpret it and enforce it."
"Enforce a law?" This seemed to amuse her. "How? A law is a statement of
a truth in human relationship; it doesn't have to be enforced. What sane
person would violate a truth? What would you do, Martin Lord, if I told
you we had no government, in your sense of the word?"
"You can't be that primitive, Niaga!"
"Would it be so terribly wrong?"
"That's anarchy. There'd be no question, then, of granting us a trade
franchise; we'd have to set up a trusteeship and let the teachers run your
planet until you had learned the basic processes of social organization."
Niaga turned away from him, her hands twisted together. She said, in a soft
whisper that was flat and emotionless, "We have a council of elders, Martin
Lord. You can make your treaty with them." Then, imperceptibly, her voice
brightened. "It will take a week or more to bring the council together.
And that is all to the good; it will give your people time to visit in
our villages and to get better acquainted with us."
* * * * *
Niaga left him, then; she said she would go to the village and send out
the summons for the council. By a roundabout path, Lord returned to the
clearing around the _Ceres_. The forest fascinated him. It was obviously
cultivated like a park, and he was puzzled that a primitive society should
practice such full scale conservation. Normally savages took nature for
granted or warred against it.
He came upon a brown gash torn in a hillside above the stream, a place
where natives were apparently working to build up the bank against
erosion. In contrast to the beauty that surrounded it, the bare earth was
indescribably ugly, like a livid scar in a woman's face. In his mind Lord
saw this scar multiplied a thousand times--no, a million times--when the
machines of the galaxy came to rip out resources for the trade cities.
He envisioned the trade cities that would rise against the horizon, the
clutter of suburban subdivisions choking out the forests; he saw the pall
of industrial smoke that would soil the clean air, the great machines
clattering over asphalt streets.
For the first time he stated the problem honestly, to himself: this world
must be saved exactly as it was. But how? How could Lord continue to
represent Hamilton Lord, Inc., as a reputable trade agent, and at the
same time save Niaga's people from the impact of civilization?
It was sunset when he returned to the _Ceres_. On the clearing the
festivities were still going on, but at a slower pace. Ann Howard was
waiting for Lord at the door of his cabin. She registered her official
disapproval of the revelry, which Lord had expected, and then she added,
"We can't make a treaty with them; these people have no government with
the authority to deal with us."
"You're wrong, Ann; there's a council of elders--"
"I beg to differ, Mr. Lord." Her lips made a flat, grim line against her
teeth. "This afternoon I made a point of talking to every native in the
clearing. Their idea of government is something they call the law of
humanity. Whether it is written down or not, I have no way of knowing;
but certainly they have no such thing as a central authority. This
rather indicates a teacher trusteeship for the planet, I believe."
"You've made a mistake, Ann; I'll have to check for myself."
Lord and Ann Howard moved together through the clearing and he began to
talk to the natives. In each case he elicited the same information that
Ann had given him. The mention of a governing council seemed to amuse the
savages. Lord and Ann were still conducting their puzzling inquest when
Niaga returned from the village. She said that the council had been
called and would meet within a week.
"There seems to be some difference of opinion," Ann told her coldly,
"between you and your people."
"Yes," Lord added uncertainly, "I've been asking about the council and--"
"But you didn't phrase your question clearly," Niaga put in smoothly.
"We're not quite used to using your words yet with your definitions."
To make her point, she called the same natives whom Ann and Lord had
questioned, and this time, without exception, they reversed their
testimony. Lord was willing to believe the language had caused the
difficulty. Niaga's people were entirely incapable of deception; what
reason would they have had?
* * * * *
From that hour, the clearing was never altogether free of native guests.
They deluged Lord's crew with kindness and entertainment. Lord never left
the ship, day or night, without having Niaga slip up beside him and put
her arm through his. Because Ann Howard had made her objections so clear,
the native women, in an effort to please the teacher, had taken to wearing
more clothing than they were accustomed to. But they rejected the sack-like
plastics which Ann dispensed in the schoolroom and put on the mist-like,
pastel-colored netting which they used normally to decorate their homes.
If anything, the addition of clothing made the women more attractive
than ever.
The scientists among Lord's men analyzed the planetary resources and found
the planet unbelievably rich in metals; the botanists determined that the
seeds for the exotic fruits and flowers were exportable. All told, Niaga's
world could develop into the richest franchise in the Federation.
Niaga took Lord to visit the villages which were close to the landing
site. Each town was exactly like its neighbors, a tiny cluster of small,
yellow-walled, flat-roofed houses nestled among the tall trees close to
a cleared farmland which was worked co-operatively by everyone in the
village. No single town was large, yet judging from the number that he
saw, Lord estimated the planetary population in the billions.
Continuously Niaga tried to persuade him to stay and build a colony in
the new world. Lord knew that the other natives were being as persuasive
with the rest of the crew. And the temptation was very real: to trade the
energetic, competitive, exhausting routine that he knew for the quiet
peace and relaxation here.
As the days passed the rigid scheduling of exploratory activities, always
practiced by a trade mission, began to break down. The charming savages of
this new world put no monetary value on time, and something of their spirit
began to infect Lord's crew. They stopped bucking for overtime; most of
them applied for accumulated sick leave--so they could walk in the forest
with the native women, or swim in the forest pools. Even Lord found time
to relax.
One afternoon, after a swim with Niaga, they lay in the warm sun on the
grassy bank of a stream. Niaga picked a blue, delicately scented water
lily, and gently worked it into his hair. Slowly she bent her face close
until her lips brushed his cheek.
"Must you really go away when the treaty is made?"
"I'm a Lord, Niaga."
"Does that matter? If you like it here--"
"Niaga, I wish--I wish--" He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
"Why is it so important for you to build your trade cities?"
As he sought for words to answer her question, the spell of her presence
was broken. He saw her for what she was: an extremely beautiful woman,
sensuously very lovely, yet nonetheless a primitive--a forlorn child
without any conception of the meaning of civilization. "We keep our union
of planets economically sound," he explained patiently, "and at peace by
constantly expanding--"
"I have visited the schoolroom your teacher has put up beside the ship. I
have seen her models of the many machines your people know how to build.
But why do you do it, Martin Lord?"
"The machines make our lives easier and more comfortable; they--"
"More comfortable than this?" She gestured toward the stream and the
cultivated forest.
"Your world moves at the pace of a walk, Niaga; with our machines, you
could rise above your trees, reach your destination in minutes--when now
it takes you days."
"And miss all the beauty on the way. What point is there in saving
time, and losing so much that really matters? Do your machines give you
anything--you as a person, Martin Lord--that you couldn't have here
without them?"
* * * * *
The question was unanswerable. It symbolized the enormous gulf that lay
between Niaga and himself. More than that, Lord saw clearly that the
trade cities would destroy her world utterly. Neither Niaga nor her way
of life could survive the impact of civilization. And the exotic charm,
the friendly innocence was worth saving. Somehow Lord had to find a way
to do it.
* * * * *
Lord was by no means surprised when the first three men jumped ship and
went to live in one of the quiet villages. Subconsciously he envied them;
subconsciously he wished he had the courage to make the same decision.
Although Ann Howard demanded it, Lord couldn't seriously consider taking
measures to stop further desertions.
When Don Howard jumped ship, he brought the issue to a head. Ann maneuvered
Lord so that he would have to take a stand. What and how, he didn't know.
It was the first time since the landing that Niaga had not been waiting
outside the ship for Lord. At his request she had gone to the village
to find what progress had been made in calling the council of elders.
Lord knew where to find her, but after his talk with Ann he walked slowly
along the forest path. He stopped to dip his face into the stream where
he had first met Niaga. Anything to put off the showdown. Lord was
trying desperately to understand and evaluate his own motivation.
He accepted the fact that he had not stopped the desertions because, if
enough men jumped ship, the _Ceres_ would be unable to take off again. Lord
could then have embraced Niaga's temptation without having to make the
decision for himself. But that was a coward's way out and no solution.
There would always be people like Ann Howard who would not accept the
situation. They would eventually make radio communication with the
Federation, and the location of Niaga's world would no longer be a secret.
Fundamentally that was the only thing that counted: to preserve this world
from the impact of civilization.
Then suddenly, as he listened to the music of the stream, Lord saw how that
could be done. Ann Howard had offered him a deal; she would keep her word.
Everything hinged on that.
Don Howard had to be brought back--if persuasion failed, then by force.
Martin Lord ran back to the clearing. From a supply shed he took a pair of
deadly atomic pistols. Their invisible, pin-point knife of exploding energy
could slice through eighteen feet of steel, transform a mountain into a
cloud of radioactive dust.
He ran through the forest to the village. As usual, the children were
playing games on the grass, while the adults lounged in front of their
dwellings or enjoyed community singing and dancing to the pulsing rhythm of
their music. The sound of gaiety suddenly died as Lord walked between the
rows of houses.
Strange, he thought; they seemed to guess what was in his mind. Niaga ran
from the quiet crowd and took his hand.
"No, Martin Lord; you must not interfere!"
"Where's Howard?"
"He is a free man; he has a right to choose--"
"I'm going to take him back." He drew one of his guns. She looked at him
steadily, without fear, and she said,
"We made you welcome; we have given you our friendship, and now you--"
He pushed her aside brutally because her gentleness, her lack of anger,
tightened the constriction of his own sense of guilt. Lord fired his weapon
at the trunk of a tree. The wood flamed red for a moment and the sound of
the explosion rocked the air, powdering the grass with black ash.
"This is the kind of power controlled by men," he said. His voice was
harsh, shrill with shame and disgust for the role he had to play. "I shall
use this weapon to destroy your homes--each of them, one by one--unless you
surrender Don Howard to me."
As he turned the pistol slowly toward the closest yellow wall, Niaga
whispered, "Violence is a violation of the law of humanity. We offered Don
Howard sanctuary and peace--as we offer it to all of you. Stay with us,
Martin Lord; make your home here."