John Rackham (9 page)

"Now
Zorgan has many hundreds of arms, but only one head. That is the control, is
Zorga itself.
That
planet is ruled by the
Grand Council, like this one, only a thousand times greater. That is where the
Supreme Executive of
Zot-.
gan is. Me, I am no more than the finger on
one hand of one of the smaller arms. But I am—as I said—the Supreme Executive
of Zorgan, on this planet. Nowl You see these men, and others of my men in
other places? All of them do what I command!"

"Not
now, they don't!" some joker shouted from the throng and got himself a
quick storm of laughter. Mordin quelled it with an imperious hand.

"Say
more, Bragan of Zorgan," he offered. "Tell us what would have been
done, what you would have done had you succeeded with your plan."

"In all its detail it would take a long
time to tell, but I can give you the broad outline very simply. I would have
set up command posts and training places, to teach you many things. How to grow
ten times as much food as you do now, and then ten times as much again. How to
build great machines to make weapons and build ships like those we came in. How
to make proper places for such ships to land. How to prepare fuel for them.
How to organize yourselves so that one man could do as much as a hundred men do
now, in less time—and have more time free to enjoy for himself. And much more.
How to make fine clothing such as you have never dreamed of. Devices—a radio
with picturesl Aircraft that fly higher and faster than anything you have ever
seen. New metals, stronger than any you know. Many other things."

"It sounds large," Mordin commented
dryly. "Say now, who feeds and keeps the teachers?" That struck home
to the audience, who responded with a roar. Bragan waited for it to die down.

"You
keep and feed those who teach you, in return for the great wonders they teach.
We of Zorgan will make you great, and powerful, and rich. In return you will
give us one tenth of everything you make, and"—he had to save it until the
derisive roar dwindled a little—"and you will become a part of the mighty
Zorgan Empire, sharing in its strength and protected by its powerl"

As
soon as it was practical again, Mordin raised his hand for quiet. The crowd
tittered into silence and the old man showed his teeth in a ferocious grin.
"We have seen something of the might of Zorgan. Enough. And we have heard
enough of you, I think. I want words with these others." He ran a cold eye
over them, came back to aim a finger at Karsh. "What do you do?"

"I
am responsible for directing the technical side of the operation, the devices,
methods and means used. And the weapons."

"And you?" The
finger moved to Slatt.

"I
am Captain of the ship, Unit One, responsible for that ship, the men on it, and
that part of the operation in which the ship was involved."

"Hmm!" Mordin frowned, and so did
the audience, men and women
alike.
The
old man fingered a trooper next, then another. Bit by bit he began to assemble
the complex pyramid of authority and responsibility of the whole force, the
chain of command,
the
hierarchy involved. Then, at last, he called
a halt.

"Out
of such a confusion," he growled, "one thing is plain. Not one of you
thinks for himself. Not one. Not even him. You were sent here by some other
person, and you do what that
Other
person
says, what you have been toid to do. That is no way for a man, and we will have
no time for it. Here on Scarta every man thinks for himself and decides what he
has to do. Then he does it. If it is a big thing, then many men think together
and decide, as we are doing now. That is our way, here on Scarta. And you men
are all here now with us, so it will be the same for you. You must think for
yourselves and decide what you will do. What say you to that?"

They
said, each and every one of them, exactly what Bragan could have predicted they
would say. Nothing at all. Nothing in their previous experience had prepared
them for such a shattering question as this. He watched them, saw the shifting
eyes, the uneasy feet, the bewilderment, the way they looked to one another for
inspiration. And he saw how all the glances and unspoken questions gradually
shifted and found a focus, on himself. Mordin saw it too, and glared at Bragan.

"Are
these men? See how they look to you for their thinking, to be told what next.
Can't they think for themselves?"

Bragan
smiled. "Such is the power of Zorgan," he said softly. "You see?
These are my men and they do as I say. I tell you this, old man. We are your
enemies. We are your prisoners now, true, but we will be your masters some day,
be sure of that. And until then, we are enemies. You will have to keep watch
and guard on us, keep us secure and prisoned, and worry in case we escape. Or,
of course, you can kill us."

"We
do
not kill!" Mordin growled. "We leave that to the whim of the
gods. You still mean to resist, Bragan?"

"All the way."

"I
see." The old man scratched his jaw thoughtfully, then turned
to
confer a moment or two with
his
fellow
seniors. A buzz of talk came from
the
crowd.
Bragan kept a critical
eye
on the throng, trying to guess
its
shifting mood. It wasn't easy. The thinking was alien here and he had a
hard part to play, with little or no script. In a while the old man turned to
the audience and raised his hand once more for silence.

"We are dealing with strange people
here," he announced. "It seems the sons of Zorgan cannot think
without help. I propose to offer such help. Now"—he swept the assembled
prisoners with a searching eye—"which of you has skill in the working of
metals, of iron and copper and such things?"

After
a long breath Bragan saw one trooper raise a hand, then another. The old man
nodded. "Good! And which of you is skilled in the handling and use of
electricity?" That got him more hands. He went on to ask about food-preparation,
about the design and flying of aircraft, even about farming practice, and each
time he got more hands. Bragan knew what the game was. Divide and rule. Mordin
was no fool. After a long string of questions he called a halt again.

"Very
well. Scarta can use men like you. We accept that you were obeying the order of
this man according to some insanity called Zorgan, but that no longer has
strength here, as you can see. We offer you the chance to do the work you can
do, that you are best fitted to do, here with us, and to become self-thinking
self-deciding Scartanni, like us. You have seen our planet, and us. What say
you?"

Before
any of them could respond, Bragan shouted, "Tell them the alternative,
Mordin. Tell them what will happen if they reject your offer!"

"I
think you know that already." Mordin shrugged. "If they do not
accept, then we put them in the stockades you so thoughtfully built for us, and
leave them."

"Without food or
drink, clothing or shelter. Some choice!"

"You cannot blame us." Mordin was
mild now. "You taught us this way of dealing with awkward situations. Now,
you men—"

"Wait!"
Bragan hurled the order into the uneasy faces of his men, and added a sneer.
"Think before you decide. Think. You know what will happen in the long
run, whichever way you choose. Death by slow starvation now—or the other kind,
later!"

"What
twisted idea fills your skull now?" Mordin demanded, and Karsh came in on
cue perfectly.

"I'll tell you,"
he said, and there was instant quiet at the sound of his thick voice.
"Bragan is right, in his way. You think you're finished with Zorgan.
You're wrong. You've broken us, yes, but we are only a small part, a fraction
of the real thing. We judged we were big enough to take this small planet. We made
a mistake. At least,
he
did. But the mistake, the failure, that was
all ours. Zorgan doesn't fail, ever, not in the end. When we fail to report
back there will be others to want to know what happened. And they
won't
fail, I promise you that!"

Thé
mood of the meeting switched
abrupüy
into cold tension.

"How
soon?" the old man demanded, and everybody knew exactiy what he meant. But
Karsh hunched his shoulders resignedly.

"Not my field. That's higher strategy.
He's the only one knows the answer to that question."

Now all the faces were hard on Bragan, and he
could afford to laugh at them in scorn. "FoolsI" he cried. "How
soon? What does it matter? What can you do? If you had a hundred years—and you
haven't—what difference would it make? Could you organize your silly system,
teach yourselves the arts of war, build weapons and defenses strong enough to
stand off Zorgan? Never! Not in a thousand years! When the word gets back and
the big fleet comes, as it surely will, and when they leam that you have broken
us, defeated us—then will be the time for all of Scarta to shiver with fear.
Because Zorgan will crush you, like thatl" and he stuck out his hand and
curled the fingers into a hard fist.

"We stopped you!" Mordin retorted.
Bragan laughed again.

"Six
small ships? Yes, you broke us, and I admit it freely. But you won't stop the
big fleet, old man; don't think it."

"Hold
on a minute." Karsh came back into the picture. "That's not
necessarily true. Look; they stopped us cold, didn't they? And they didn't know
a thing. All they had was determination and wits."

"What are you trying to say?"
Bragan challenged him. "Are you hoping to suggest that these primitive
people have any hope of standing out against the full weight of Zorgan?"

"I don't see why not—with help!"

"You must be out of your mind!"

"I don't think so." Karsh was
stubbornly determined. "As

I
just said, they stopped us, with no help. And
they now have several hundred trained men—us—to pass on all the know-how—"

"Traitor! Turncoat!" Bragan spat at
him. "You expect these men to throw in their lot with the Scartanni
against Zorgan?"

"Why
not?" Karsh retorted sharply. "What have we got to lose?" He
turned to the bewildered troopers and ship's officers. "You know the
score. You know that Zorgan will come, eventually. And you know what happens to
us when the next fleet comes. They will tread this planet and its people
flat—and then they will deal with us. And you know how Zorgan rewards
failure." He had their ear now, with a vengeance. "If we stand out
now, we starve to death. If we throw in with the Scartanni—well, maybe we will
get blasted down, and maybe we won't, at that. But at least well have a
fighting chance."

He scanned their wavering faces and added,
"Who knows better than us just how Zorgan works? Who better to build a few
shocks for them? At least we can try!" He spun on Bragan again. "Why
don't you throw in with us? What have you got to lose?"

For
answer Bragan launched himself in a wild spring, caught Karsh by the throat and
the pair of them went crashing to the floor among a crowd of stumbling
Scartanni.

As
they struggled vigorously, Karsh muttered, "This should do it. Sure you
won't switch sides?"

"I
can't. They have to be convinced that Zorgan has fanatics who don't give up.
Which is the truth, anyway. So it has to be me."

"They'll stake you out
to starve to death!"

"That's a chance I have to take. Unless
they think I'm worth saving."

"I think we can work
that. Shh—strangle me harder!"

It
took seven or eight Scartanni to tear them apart. Mor-din glared as Bragan was
put back on his platform.

"So,
you don't like it when your men think and speak for themselves? You would
silence him, eh? Well, hold your peace a moment, or you, too, will be silenced.
Now"—he turned to Karsh—"how much of what he says is true? Can this
big fleet be stopped?"

"It never has been yet, but there always
has to be a first time for everything. And we can teach you all the tricks. We
know them."