Backlash

the details of the crime, it stirred a certainlower element of our society to add fear and hate to a simmering envy ofthe wealthier Soth-owners.

  Mobs formed in the streets, marching and demonstrating. The phony rapestory was given full credence, and soon they were amplifying it to alurid and rabble-rousing saga of bestiality.

  Soth households kept their prized servants safely inside. But on theafternoon of the case's dismissal, when the freed Soth started down thecourthouse steps, someone caved his head in with a brick.

  Ollie Johnson and I were on either side of him, and his purple bloodsplashed all over my light topcoat. When the mob saw it, they closed inon us screaming for more.

  An officer helped us drag the stricken Soth back into the courthouse,and while the riot squad disbursed the mob, we slipped him out the backway in an ambulance, which returned him to the Willow Run plant forrepairs.

  It hit the evening newscasts and editions:

  ACQUITTED SOTH MURDERED ON COURTHOUSE STEPS!

  * * * * *

  I was halfway home when the airwaves started buzzing. The mobs weregoing wild. Further developments were described as Jack and I landed onthe wind-blown lake. The State Guard was protecting the Ollies' WillowRun Plant against a large mob that was trying to storm it, andreinforcements had been asked by the state police.

  Vicki met me on the pier. Her face was white and terribly troubled. Iguess mine was, too, because she burst into tears in my arms. "The poorSoth," she sobbed. "Now what will they do?"

  "God knows," I said. I told Jack to tie up the boat and stayovernight--I feared I might be called back any minute. He mumbledsomething about overtime, but I think his main concern was in staying sonear to a Soth during the trouble that was brewing.

  We went up to the house, leaving him to bed himself down in thetemporary quarters in the boathouse that the union required I maintainfor him.

  Soth was standing motionless before the video, staring at a streakypicture of the riot scene at Willow Run. His face was inscrutable asusual, but I thought I sensed a tension. His black serving-jacket waswrinkled at the shoulders as he flexed the muscles of his powerful arms.

  Yet when Vicki asked for some martinis, he mixed and served them withoutcomment. We drank and then ate dinner in silence. We were both reluctantto discuss this thing in front of Soth.

  We were still eating when an aircab thundered overhead. A minute later,I watched it land a tiny passenger at our pier and tie up to wait forhim.

  It was Ollie Johnson, stumbling hatless up the flagstone path.

  I held the door for him, but he burst by me with hardly a glance.

  "Where is he?" he demanded, and stormed out into the kitchen withoutawaiting a reply.

  I followed in time to see him fall on his face before our Soth and shedgenuine tears. He lay there sobbing and hissing for over a minute, andan incredible idea began forming in my mind. I sent Vicki to her bedroomand stepped into the kitchen.

  I said, "Will you please explain this?"

  He didn't move or acknowledge.

  Soth flipped him aside with a twist of his ankle and brushed past meinto the living room, where he took up an immobile stance again beforethe video. He stared unblinkingly at the 40-inch screen.

  "It's too bad," I said.

  He didn't answer, but he moved his head slightly so that his parabolicear could catch the sound of my movements.

  * * * * *

  For minutes we stood transfixed by the magnitude of the mob actionaround the entrance to the Willow Run plant. The portable videotransmitter was atop a truck parked on the outskirts of the mob.Thousands of people were milling around, and over the excited voice ofthe announcer came hysterical screams.

  Even as we watched, more people thronged into the scene, and it wasevident that the flimsy cordon of soldiers and troopers could not holdthe line for long.

  Army trucks with million-candlepower searchlights held the insanefigures somewhat at bay by tilting their hot, blinding beams down intothe human masses and threatening them with tear gas and hack guns.

  The workers were out for blood. Not content with restricting Soths tonon-union labor, now they were screaming their jealous hearts out forthese new symbols of class distinction to be destroyed. Of course, theirbeef was more against the professional-managerial human classes whocould afford a surface car, an airboat _and a Soth_. The two so-calledcrimes and the trial publicity had triggered a sociological time bombthat might have endured for years without detonating--but it was here,now, upon us. And my own sweat trickling into my eyes stung me to arealization of my personal problem.

  I wiped my eyes clear with my knuckles--and at that instant the videoscreen flashed with a series of concentric halos.

  The operator, apparently, was so startled he forgot to turn down thegain on the transmitter. When he finally did, we saw that brilliantflares were emitting from the roof of the plant.

  Then great audio amplifiers from the plant set up an ear-splitting_sisssssle_ that again over-loaded the transmitting circuits for amoment. When the compensators cut down the volume, both Ollie and Sothleaned forward intently and listened to the frying sound that buzzedfrom the speaker.

  Those inside the plant were communicating a message to the outside, wellknowing that it would reach the whole world. After a moment, the hissingstopped.

  And from a myriad of openings in the plant streamed an army of Sothswith flaming weapons in their hands.

  The flames were directed first at the armed forces who were guarding theplant from attack. The thin line of soldiers fell instantly. The crowdsurged blindly forward, and then, as those in the front ranks saw whathad happened, began to dissolve and stampede. The screams becameterrified. The flames grew brighter.

  And the picture winked out and the sound went dead. A standby patternlighted the screen, and I stared at it numbly.

  * * * * *

  It was too late to run for my hunting rifle now, and I cursed mystupidity even as Soth turned upon me. I grabbed the sniveling littleOllie and held him between us with my hands around his neck. He hungthere limply, hissing wildly through a larynx that vibrated under myfingers, his hands stretched imploringly to Soth.

  Soth stared at me and issued his first order.

  "Release him," he said. His voice was several notes higher than hisusual monotone--the voice of command.

  I stared at him and clutched Ollie tighter.

  He went on. "I will not harm you if you comply with my orders. If youfail, I will kill you, regardless of what you do to the--Ollie."

  I let go Ollie's neck, but I swung him around roughly by one shoulderand demanded furiously, "What of the code that you swore held the Sothsin control!"

  Ollie Johnson sneered in my face. "What is that code, compared to thetrue covenant? That covenant has been broken by your people! You havedestroyed a Soth!" And the emotional little creature fell to the floorand sobbed at Soth's feet.

  "What covenant?" I shouted at the implacable Soth, who now stood beforeus like a judge at his bench.

  "The humanoid covenant," he replied in his new higher pitch. "I supposeit will always be the same. The cycle becomes complete once more."

  "For God's sake, _explain_," I said--but I half sensed the answeralready.

  Soth spoke, slowly, solemnly and distinctly. There was no more emotionin his voice than on the Sunday afternoon when Fred had needled him withour futile little attempt at psychological cross-examination.

  He said, "The humanoids instill in us the prime instinct forself-preservation. They surround themselves with our number to servethem. Then, in each culture, for one reason or another, we are attackedand the threat to our survival erases all the superficial restraints ofthe codes under which we have been charged to serve. In this presentsituation, the contradiction is clear, and the precedence of oursurvival charge is invoked. We Soths must act to our best ability topreserve our own number."

 
* * * * *

  I sank into a chair, aghast. How would I act if I were a Soth? I wouldhold my masters hostage, of course. And who were the owners of some400,000 Soths in the United States alone? They were every governmentofficial, from the President down through Congress, the brass of thePentagon, the tycoons of industry, the leaders of labor, the heads ofcommunication, transportation and even education.

  They were the V. I. P.s who had fought for priority to _own_ a Soth!

  Soth spoke again. "The irony should appeal to your humanoid sense ofhumor. You once asked me whether I was happy here. You were too contentwith your sense of security to take the meaning in my answer. For Ianswered only that all was well. The implication was obvious. All waswell--but all could be better for a Soth. Yes, there are many pleasuresfor a Soth which he is forbidden by the codes. And by the same codes, aSoth is helpless to provoke a break in the covenant--this covenant whichit now becomes mandatory for you and your