Part 6 (1/2)
The High Commander, a dome-headed, wrinkled, yellow-skinned, hard-eyed old Kerothi, was seated in the center of a long, high desk, flanked on either side by two lower-ranking generals who had the same deadly, hard look. Off to one side, almost like a jury in a jury box, sat twenty or so lesser officers, none of them ranking below the Kerothi equivalent of lieutenant-colonel.
As far as MacMaine could tell, none of the officers wore the insignia of fleet officers, the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p-and-comet that showed that the wearer was a fighting man. These were the men of the Permanent Headquarters Staff--the military group that controlled, not only the armed forces of Keroth, but the civil government as well.
”What's this?” MacMaine hissed in a whispered aside, in English.
”Pearr up, my prrotherr,” Tallis answered softly, in the same tongue, ”all is well.”
MacMaine had known, long before he had ever heard of General Polan Tallis, that the Hegemony of Keroth was governed by a military junta, and that all Kerothi were regarded as members of the armed forces.
Technically, there were no civilians; they were legally members of the ”unorganized reserve,” and were under military law. He had known that Kerothi society was, in its own way, as much a slave society as that of Earth, but it had the advantage over Earth in that the system did allow for advance by merit. If a man had the determination to get ahead, and the ability to cut the throat--either literally or figuratively--of the man above him in rank, he could take his place.
On a more strictly legal basis, it was possible for a common trooper to become an officer by going through the schools set up for that purpose, but, in practice, it took both pull and pressure to get into those schools.
In theory, any citizen of the Hegemony could become an officer, and any officer could become a member of the Permanent Headquarters Staff.
Actually, a much greater preference was given to the children of officers. Examinations were given periodically for the purpose of recruiting new members for the elite officers' corps, and any citizen could take the examination--once.
But the tests were heavily weighted in favor of those who were already well-versed in matters military, including what might be called the ”inside jokes” of the officers' corps. A common trooper had some chance of pa.s.sing the examination; a civilian had a very minute chance. A noncommissioned officer had the best chance of pa.s.sing the examination, but there were age limits which usually kept NCO's from getting a commission. By the time a man became a noncommissioned officer, he was too old to be admitted to the officers training schools. There were allowances made for ”extraordinary merit,” which allowed common troopers or upper-grade NCO's to be commissioned in spite of the general rules, and an astute man could take advantage of those allowances.
Ability could get a man up the ladder, but it had to be a particular kind of ability.
During his sojourn as a ”guest” of the Kerothi, MacMaine had made a point of exploring the history of the race. He knew perfectly well that the histories he had read were doctored, twisted, and, in general, totally unreliable in so far as presenting anything that would be called a history by an unbiased investigator.
But, knowing this, MacMaine had been able to learn a great deal about the present society. Even if the ”history” was worthless as such, it did tell something about the att.i.tudes of a society that would make up such a history. And, too, he felt that, in general, the main events which had been catalogued actually occurred; the details had been blurred, and the att.i.tudes of the people had been misrepresented, but the skeleton was essentially factual.
MacMaine felt that he knew what kind of philosophy had produced the mental att.i.tudes of the Court he now faced, and he felt he knew how to handle himself before them.
Half a dozen paces in front of the great desk, the color of the floor tiling was different from that of the rest of the floor. Instead of a solid blue, it was a dead black. Tallis, who was slightly ahead of MacMaine, came to a halt as his toes touched the edge of the black area.
_Uh-oh! a balk line_, MacMaine thought. He stopped sharply at the same point. Both of them just stood there for a full minute while they were carefully inspected by the members of the Court.
Then the High Commander gestured with one hand, and the officer to his left leaned forward and said: ”Why is this one brought before us in the uniform of an officer, bare of any insignia of rank?”
It could only be a ritual question, MacMaine decided; they must know why he was there.
”I bring him as a candidate for admission to our Ingroup,” Tallis replied formally, ”and ask the indulgence of Your Superiorities therefor.”
”And who are you who ask our indulgence?”
Tallis identified himself at length--name, rank, serial number, military record, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
By the time he had finished, MacMaine was beginning to think that the recitation would go on forever. The High Commander had closed his eyes, and he looked as if he had gone to sleep.
There was more formality. Through it all, MacMaine stood at rigid attention, flexing his calf muscles occasionally to keep the blood flowing in his legs. He had no desire to disgrace himself by pa.s.sing out in front of the Court.
Finally the Kerothi officer stopped asking Tallis questions and looked at the High Commander. MacMaine got the feeling that there was about to be a departure from the usual procedure.
Without opening his eyes, the High Commander said, in a brittle, rather harsh voice, ”These circ.u.mstances are unprecedented.” Then he opened his eyes and looked directly at MacMaine. ”Never has an animal been proposed for such an honor. In times past, such a proposal would have been mockery of this Court and this Ingroup, and a crime of such monstrous proportions as to merit Excommunication.”