Soldier, Ask Not
What was it Lisa had said? If I had only understood her, I thought now, I could have foreseen this moment and saved myself the pain of hoping that Eileen might have forgiven me for Dave's death. Lisa had mentioned two portals, that there were only two portals left to me, and she was one of them. I understood what those portals were now. They were doorways through which love could get at me.
Love-the deadly sickness that robbed the strength from men. Not just carnal love, but any weak hungering for affection, for beauty, for hope of wonders to come. For I remembered now that there was one thing I had never been able to do. I had never been able to hurt Mathias, to shame, or even trouble him. And why not? Because he was as pure in health as any sterilized body. He loved not only no one, but nothing. And so, by giving away the universe, he had gained it, for the universe was nothing, too; and in that perfect symmetry of nothing into nothing he rested, like a stone, content.
With that understanding, I suddenly realized I could drink again. On the way here, I had not been able to do so because of my feeling of guilt and hope, and because of the tattered bits of corruptible, love-susceptible flesh still clinging to the pure skeleton of Mathias' philosophy in me. But now-
I laughed out loud in the empty compartment. Because then, on the way to Cassida when I most needed that anesthesia of liquor, I had not been able to use it. And now that I did not need it at all, I could swim in it if I wanted.
Always provided I had a due care for the respectableness of my professional position and did not overdo in public. But there was no reason keeping me back from getting drunk privately in my compartment right now if I wanted to. In fact, there was every reason to do just that. For this was an occasion for celebration-the hour of my deliverance from the weaknesses of the flesh and mind that caused pain to all ordinary men.
I ordered a bottle, a glass and ice; and I toasted myself in the mirror of my compartment, across from the lounge seat in which I sat, with the bottle at my elbow.
"Slainte, Tam Olyn bach!" I said to myself; for it was Scotch I had ordered, and all the Scot and Irish of my ancestors was frothing metaphorically in my veins at the moment. I drank deeply.
The good liquor burned inside me and spread comfortably through me; and after a little while, as I went on drinking, the close walls of the compartment moved back away from me for some distance while the wide memory of how I had ridden the lightning, under Padma's hypnotic influence, that day at the Encyclopedia, came back to me.
Once more I felt the power and the fury that had come into me then, and for the first time I became aware of how I now stood, with no more human weaknesses to hold me back, to temper my use of that lightning. For the first time I saw possibilities in that use and the power of Destruct. Possibilities to which what Mathias had done, or even I had accomplished before now, were child's play.
I drank, dreaming of things that were possible. And, after a while, I fell asleep, or passed out, whichever it was; and I dreamed literally.
It was a dream I passed into from waking with no seeming transition. Suddenly, I was there-and there was someplace on a stony hillside, between the mountains and the western sea, in a small house of stone, chinked with turf and dirt. A small, one-room house with no fireplace, but a primitive hearth with walls on each side leading up to a hole in the roof for the smoke to get out. On the wall near the fire, on two wooden pegs driven into cracks between stones, hung my one valuable possession.
It was the family weapon, the true, original claymore- claidheamh mör, the "great sword." Over four feet long it was, straight and double-edged and wide of blade, not tapering to the point. Its hilt had only a simple crossbar with the guards turned down. Altogether it was a two-handed broadsword carefully kept wrapped in greased rags and laid on its pegs, for it had no sheath.
But, at the time of my dream, I had taken it down and unwrapped it, for there was a man I was to meet in three days' time, some half a day's walk away. For two days the sky was fair, the sun bright but cold, and I sat out on the beach, sharpening the long sword's two edges with a gray stone from the beach, smoothed by the sea. On the morning of the third day it was overcast and with the dawn a light rain began falling. So I wrapped the sword in a corner of the long, rectangular plaid I had wound about me, and went to keep my appointment.
The rain blew cold and wet in my face and the wind was cold, but under the thick, almost oily wool of the plaid, my sword and I were dry, and a fine, fierce joy rose in me, a wondrous feeling greater than I had ever felt before. I could taste it as a wolf must taste hot blood in his mouth, for there was no feeling to compare to this-that I was going at last to my revenge.
And then I woke. I saw the bottle almost empty and felt the heavy, sluggish feeling of drunkenness; but the joy of my dream was still with me. So I stretched out on the lounge seat and fell asleep again.
This time I did not dream.
When I woke, I could feel no trace of a hangover. My mind was cold and clear and free. I could remember, as if it had been just the second before I had dreamed it, the terrible joy I had felt, going sword in hand to my meeting in the rain. And, at once, I saw my way clear before me.
I had sealed the two portals that remained-that meant I had stripped love from me. But now to replace it I had found this wine-rich joy of revenge. I almost laughed out loud as I thought about it, because I remembered what the Friendly Groupman had said, before he left me with the bodies of those he had massacred.
"What I have writ upon these men is beyond the power of you or any man to erase."
Oh, it was true enough. I could not erase that exact, particular writing of his. But I-alone among sixteen worlds of people-had it in my power and skill to erase something far greater than that. I could erase the instruments that made such writing. I was a rider and master of the lightning; and with that I could destroy the culture and people of both the Friendly worlds together. Already, I saw glimmerings of the method by which it could be done.
By the time my spaceship reached Earth, the basic outline of my plans was essentially made.
Chapter 17
My immediate goal was a quick return to New Earth, where Eldest Bright, having ransomed free the troops Kensie Graeme's forces had captured, had immediately reinforced them. The reinforced unit had been encamped outside Moreton, the North Partition capital, as an occupation force in demand of interstellar credits due the Friendly Worlds for troops hired by the now defunct rebel government.
But there was a matter to be taken care of before I could go directly to New Earth. First, I needed a sanction and a seal for what I intended to do. For, once you were a full member of the Newsman's Guild there was no higher authority over you-except for the fifteen members that made up the Guild Council to watchdog the Creed of Impartiality under which we operated, and to set Guild policy, to which all members must conform.
I made an appointment to see Piers Leaf, Chairman of that Council. It was a bright morning in April in St. Louis, just across the city from the Final Encyclopedia, that I finally found myself facing him across a wide, neatly bare oak desk in his office on the top floor of the Guild Hall.
"You've come a long way pretty fast for someone so young, Tam," he said, after he had ordered and received coffee for both of us. He was a dry-mannered, small man in his late fifties, who never left the Solar System nowadays and seldom left Earth, because of the public-relations aspect of his Chairmanship. "Don't tell me you still aren't satisfied? What do you want now?"
"I want a seat on the Council," I said.
He was lifting his coffee cup to his lips when I spoke. He went right on lifting without a pause. But the sudden glance he shot me over the rim of his cup was as sharp as a falcon's. But all he said was:
"Do you? Why?"
"I'll tell you," I said. "Maybe you've noticed I seem to have a knack for being where the news-stories are."
He set his cup down precisely in the center of its saucer.
"That, Tam," he said mildly, "is why you're wearing the
cape permanently now. We expect certain things from members, you know."
"Yes," I said. "But I think mine may be a little bit out of the ordinary-oh," I said, as his eyebrows rose suddenly, "I'm not claiming some kind of precognition. I just think I happen to have a talent for a little more insight into the possibilities of situations than other members."
His eyebrows came down. He frowned slightly.
"I know," I said, "that sounds like boasting. But, just stop and suppose I have what I claim. Wouldn't a talent like that be highly useful to the Council in its policy decisions for the Guild?"
He looked at me sharply.
"Maybe," he said, "if it was true-and it worked every time-and a number of other things."
"But if I could convince you of all those ifs, you'd sponsor me for the next opening on the Council?''
He laughed.
"I might," he said. "But how are you going to prove it to me?''
"I'll make a prediction," I said. "A prediction calling-if it comes true-for a major policy decision by the Council."
"All right," he said. He was still smiling. "Predict, then."
"The Exotics," I said, "are at work to wipe out the Friendlies."
The smile went away. For a moment he stared at me.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. "The Exotics can't be out to wipe out anyone. It's not only against everything they say they believe in, but no one can wipe out two whole worlds of people and a complete way of life. What do you mean by 'wipe out,' anyway?"
"Just about what you'd think," I answered. "Tear down the Friendly culture as a working theocracy, break both worlds financially, and leave only a couple of stony planets filled with starving people who'll either have to change their way of life or emigrate to other worlds."
He stared at me. For a long moment neither of us said anything.
"What," he said, finally, "gave you this fantastic idea?"
"A hunch. My insight," I said. "Plus the fact that it was a Dorsai Field Commander, Kensie Graeme, lent to the Cassidan levies at the last moment, that defeated the Friendly forces there."
"Why," said Piers, "that's the sort of thing that could happen in any war, anywhere, between any two armies."
"Not exactly," I said. "Kensie's decision to sweep around the north end of the Friendly line and take the Friendlies in the rear wouldn't have worked so successfully at all if Eldest Bright hadn't the day before taken command and ordered a Friendly attack on the south end of Kensie's line. There's a double coincidence here. An Exotic Commander appears and does just the right thing at the moment when the Friendly forces take the very action that makes them vulnerable."
Piers turned and reached for the phone on his desk.
"Don't bother checking," I said. "I already have. The decision to borrow Kensie from the Exotics was taken independently on the spur of the moment by the Cassidan Levies Command, and there was no way Kensie's Intelligence Unit could have known in advance about the attack Bright had ordered."
"Then it's coincidence." Piers scowled at me. "Or that Dorsai genius for tactics we all know they have."
"Don't you think Dorsai genius may have been a little overrated? And I don't buy the coincidence. It's too large," I said.
"Then what?" demanded Piers. "How do you explain it?"
"My hunch-my insight-suggests that the Exotics have some way of predicting what the Friendlies will do in advance. You spoke of Dorsai military genius-how about the Exotic psychological genius?"
"Yes, but-" Piers broke off, suddenly thoughtful. "The whole thing's fantastic." He looked once more at me. "What do you suggest we do about it?"
"Let me dig into it," I said. "If I'm right, three years from now will see Exotic troops fighting Friendlies. Not as hirelings in some other-planet war, but in a direct test of Exotic-Friendly strength." I paused. "And if I turn out to be right, you sponsor me to replace the next Council member dying or retiring."
Once more, the dry little man sat staring at me for a long minute.
"Tam," he said finally. "I don't believe a word of it. But look into it as much as you want; I'll answer for Council backing for you on that-if the question comes up. And if it comes off anything like you say, come talk to me again."
"I will," I said, getting up and smiling at him.
He shook his head, remaining in his seat, but said nothing.
"I'll hope to see you again before too long," I said. And I went out.
It was a tiny burr I had stuck onto him, to irritate his mind in the direction I wanted him to speculate. But Piers Leaf had the misfortune of having a highly intelligent and creative mind; otherwise he would not have been Chairman of the Council. It was the kind of mind that refused to let go of a question until it had settled it one way or another. If it could not disprove the question, it was likely to start finding evidence to prove it-even in places where others could not see such proof at all.
And this particular burr would have nearly three years to stick and work itself into the fabric of Leaf's picture of things. I was content to wait for that, while I went ahead with other matters.
I had to spend a couple of weeks on Earth, bringing some order back to my personal business affairs there; but at the end of that time I took ship for New Earth once more.
The Friendlies, as I said, having bought back the troops they had lost as prisoners to the Cassidan forces under Kensie Graeme, had immediately reinforced them and encamped them outside the North Partition capital of Moreton, as an occupation force in demand of interplanetary credits due them.
The credits due, of course, were from the government of the now defeated and nonexistent North Partition rebels who had hired them. But, while there was nothing exactly legal about it, this was not uncommon practice between the stars, to hold a world ransom for any debt contracted off-world by any of its people.
The reason, of course, was that special currency between worlds which was the services of individual human units, whether as psychiatrists or soldiers. A debt contracted for the services of such units by one world from another had to be paid by the debtor world, and could not be repudiated by a change of governments. Governments would have proved too easy to change, if that had been a way out of interplanetary debts.
In practice, it was a winner-pay-all matter, if conflicting interests on a single world hired help from off-world. Something like the reverse of a civil suit-at-law to recover monetary damages, where the loser is required to pay the court costs of the winner. Officially, what had happened was that the Friendly government, being unpaid for the soldiers it had lent the rebel government, had declared war on New Earth as a world, until New Earth as a world should make up the bad debt contracted by some of her inhabitants.
In actuality, no hostilities were involved, and payment would, after a due amount of haggling, be forthcoming from those New Earth governments most directly involved. In this case, the South Partition government, mainly, since it had been the winner. But meanwhile, Friendly troops were in occupation upon New Earth soil; and it was in self-assignment to write a series of feature articles about this that I arrived there, some eight months after I had left.
I got in to see their Field Commander with no trouble this time. It was evident among the bubble-plastic buildings of the cantonment they had set up in an open area that the Friendly military were under orders to give as little irritation to non-Friendlies as possible. I heard no cant spoken by any of the soldiers, from the cantonment gate clear into and including the office of the Field Commander himself. But in spite of the fact he "youed" instead of "thoued" me, he was not happy to see me.
"Field Commander Wassel," he introduced himself. "Sit down, Newsman Olyn. I've heard about you."
He was a man in his late forties or early fifties with close-cropped, pure gray hair. He was built as square as the lower half of a Dutch door and had a heavy, square jaw which had no trouble looking grim. It was looking grim now, for all he was trying to appear unconcerned-and I knew the cause of the worry that was
making his expression a rebel against his intentions.
"I supposed you would have," I said, grim enough in my own way. "So I'll make one point clear by reminding you right from the start of the impartiality of the Interstellar News Services."
He had sat back down.
"We know about that," he said, "and I'm not suggesting any bias on your part against us, either, Newsman. We regret the death of your brother-in-law and your own wounding. But I'd like to point out that the News Services, in sending you, of all Guild members, to do a series of articles on our occupation of this New Earth territory-"
"Let me make myself perfectly clear!" I broke in on him. "I chose to do this assignment, Commander. I asked to be able to do it!"
By this time his face was grim as a bulldog's, with little pretense remaining. I stared as bitterly straight across his desk into his eyes.
"I see you don't understand, Commander." I rapped the words out in as metallic a tone as I could; and-to my ear, at least-the tone was good. "My parents died when I was young. I was raised by an uncle and it was the goal of my life to be a Newsman. To me, the News Services are more important than any institution or human being on any of the sixteen civilized worlds. The Creed of the members of the Guild is carried in my heart, Commander. And the keystone article of that Creed is impartiality-the crushing down, the wiping out of any personal feeling where that might conflict with or influence to the slightest degree the work of a Newsman."