Part 4 (1/2)

She looked puzzled for a moment, then slipped in her enunciator. Even in the absence of any native, she used her handkerchief to mask the act.

”Suddabit,” she said, distinctly. ”Sud-da-a-_bit_.” Taking out the geek-speaker, she put it away. ”Why, that's exactly how they'd p.r.o.nounce it!”

”And don't tell me you haven't heard it before,” O'Leary said. ”The geeks were screaming it at you, over on Seventy-second Street, this afternoon. _Znidd suddabit_; kill the Terrans. That's Rakkeed the Prophet's whole gospel.”

”So you see,” Eric Blount rammed home the moral, ”this is just another case of n.o.body with any right to call anybody else's kettle black....

Cigarette?”

”Thank you.” She leaned toward the lighter-flame O'Leary had snapped into being. ”I suspect that of being a principle you'd like me to bear in mind at the Polar mines, when I see, let's say, some laborer being beaten by a couple of overseers with three foot lengths of three-quarter-inch steel cable.”

”If you think the natives who work at the mines feel themselves ill-treated, you might propose closing them down entirely and see what the native reaction would be,” von Schlichten told her.

”Independently-hired free workers can make themselves rich, by native standards, in a couple of seasons; many of the serfs pick up enough money from us in incentive-pay to buy their freedom after one season.”

”Well, if the Company's doing so much good on this planet, how is it that this native, Rakkeed, the one you call the Mad Prophet, is able to find such a following?” Paula demanded. ”There must be something wrong somewhere.”

”That's a fair question,” Blount replied, inverting a c.o.c.ktail jug over his gla.s.s to extract the last few drops. ”When we came to Ullr, we found a culture roughly like that of Europe during the Seventh Century Pre-Atomic. We initiated a technological and economic revolution here, and such revolutions have their casualties, too. A number of cla.s.ses and groups got squeezed pretty badly, like the horse-breeders and harness-manufacturers on Terra by the invention of the automobile, or the coal and hydroelectric interests when direct conversion of nuclear energy to electric current was developed, or the railroads and steams.h.i.+p lines at the time of the discovery of the contragravity-field. Naturally, there's a lot of ill-feeling on the part of merchants and artisans who weren't able or willing to adapt themselves to changing conditions; they're all backing Rakkeed and yelling '_Znidd suddabit!_' now. But it is a fact, which not even Rakkeed can successfully deny, that we've raised the general living standard of this planet by about two hundred per cent.”

Both jugs were empty. Colonel O'Leary, as befitted his junior rank, picked them up; after a good-natured wrangled with von Schlichten, Blount handed the colonel his credit-key.

”The merchants in the North don't like us; beside spoiling the caravan-trade, we're spoiling their local business, because the landowning barons, who used to deal with them, are now dealing directly with us. At Skilk, King Firkked's afraid his feudal n.o.bility is going to force a Runnymede on him, so he's been currying favor with the urban merchants; that makes him as pro-Rakkeed and as anti-Terran as they are. At Krink, King Jonkvank has the support of his barons, but he's afraid of his urban bourgeoisie, and we pay him a handsome subsidy, so he's pro-Terran and anti-Rakkeed. At Skilk, Rakkeed comes and goes openly; at Krink he has a price on his head.”

”Jonkvank is not one of the a.s.sets we boast about too loudly,”

Hideyos.h.i.+ O'Leary said, pausing on his way from the table. ”He's as b.l.o.o.d.y-minded an old murderer as you'd care not to meet in a dark alley.”

”We can turn our backs on him and not expect a knife between our shoulders, anyhow,” von Schlichten said. ”And we can believe, oh, up to eighty per cent of what he tells us, and that's sixty per cent better than any of the other native princes, except King Kankad, of course. The Kragans are the only real friends we have on this planet.”

He thought for a moment. ”Miss Quinton, are you doing sociographic research-work here, in addition to your Ex-Rights work?” he asked.

”Well, let me advise you to pay some attention to the Kragans.”

”Oh, but they're just a parasite-race on the Terrans,” Dr. Paula Quinton objected. ”You find races like that all through the explored Galaxy--pathetic cultural mongrels.”

Both men laughed heartily. Colonel O'Leary, returning with the jugs, wanted to know what he'd missed. Blount told him.

”Ha! She's been reading that thing of Stanley-Browne's,” he said.

”What's the matter with Stanley-Browne?” Paula demanded.

”Stanley-Browne is one author you can depend on,” O'Leary a.s.sured her.

”If you read it in Stanley-Browne, it's wrong. You know, I don't think she's run into many Kragans. We ought to take her over and introduce her to King Kankad.”

Von Schlichten allowed himself to be smitten by an idea. ”By Allah, so we had!” he exclaimed. ”Look, you're going to Skilk, in the next week, aren't you? Well, do you think you could get all your end-jobs cleared up here and be ready to leave by 0800 Tuesday? That's four days from today.”

”I'm sure I could. Why?”

”Well, I'm going to Skilk, myself, with the armed troops.h.i.+p _Aldebaran_. We're stopping at King Kankad's Town to pick up a battalion of Kragan Rifles for duty at the Polar mines, where you're going. Suppose we leave here in my command-car, go to Kankad's Town, and wait there till the _Aldebaran_ gets in. That would give us about two to three hours. If you think the Kragans are 'pathetic cultural mongrels', what you'll see there will open your eyes. And I might add that the nearest Stanley-Browne ever came to seeing Kankad's Town was from the air, once, at a distance of more than four miles.”