The Dosadi Experiment (29 page)

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Authors: Frank Herbert

BOOK: The Dosadi Experiment
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Communal/managed economics have always been more destructive of their societies than those driven by greed This is what Dosadi says: Greed sets its own limits, is self-regulating.
 
—The Dosadi Analysis/BuSab Text
M
cKie looked around the Legum office they'd assigned him. Afternoon smells from Tandaloor's fern jungles came in an open window. A low barrier separated him from the Courtarena with its ranks of seats all around. His office and adjoining quarters were small but fitted with all requisite linkages to libraries and the infrastructure to summon witnesses and experts. It was a green-walled space so deceptively ordinary that its like had beguiled more than one non-Gowachin into believing he knew how to perform here. But these quarters represented a deceptive surface riding on Gowachin currents. No matter that the ConSentient Pact modified what the Gowachin might do here, this was Tandaloor, and the forms of the frog people dominated.
Seating himself at the single table in the office space, McKie felt the chairdog adjust itself beneath him. It was good to have a chairdog again after Dosadi's unrelenting furniture. He flipped a toggle and addressed the Gowachin face which appeared on the screen inset into his table.
“I require testimony from those who made the actual decision to set up the Dosadi experiment Are you prepared to meet this request?”
“Do you have the names of these people?”
Did this fool think he was going to blurt out: “Mrreg”?
“If you force me to it,” McKie warned, “I will bind Aritch to the Law and extract the names from him.”
This had no apparent effect on the Gowachin. He addressed McKie by name and title, adding:
“I leave the formalities to you. Any witness I summon must have a name.”
McKie suppressed a smile. Suspicions confirmed. This was a fact which the watchful Gowachin in the screen was late recognizing. Someone else had read the interchange correctly, however. Another, older, Gowachin face replaced the first one on the screen.
“What're you doing, McKie?”
“Determining how I will proceed with this case.”
“You will proceed as a Legum of the Gowachin Bar.”
“Precisely.”
McKie waited.
The Gowachin peered narrowly at him from the screen. “Jedrik?”
“You are speaking to Jorj X. McKie, a Legum of the Gowachin Bar.”
Belatedly, the older Gowachin saw something of the way the Dosadi experience had changed McKie.
“Do you wish me to place you in contact with Aritch?”
McKie shook his head. They were so damned obvious, these underlings.
“Aritch didn't make the Dosadi decision. Aritch was chosen to take the blow if it came to that. I will accept nothing less than the one who made that ultimate decision which launched the Dosadi experiment.”
The Gowachin stared at him coldly, then:
“One moment. I will see what I can do.”
The screen went blank, but the audio remained. McKie heard the voices.
“Hello … Yes, I'm sorry to interrupt at this time.”
“What is it?”
That was a deep and arrogant Gowachin voice, full of annoyance
at the interruption. It was also an accent which a Dosadi could recognize in spite of the carefully overlaid masking tones. Here was one who'd used Dosadi.
The voice of the older Gowachin from McKie's screen continued:
“The Legum bound to Aritch has come up with a sensitive line of questioning. He wishes to speak to you.”
“To me? But I am preparing for Laupuk.”
McKie had no idea what Laupuk might be, but it opened a new window on the Gowachin for him. Here was a glimpse of the rarified strata which had been concealed from him all of those years. This tiny glimpse confirmed him in the course he'd chosen.
“He is listening to us at this time.”
“Listening … why?”
The tone carried threats, but the Gowachin who'd intercepted McKie's demands went on, unwavering:
“To save explanations. It's clear that he'll accept nothing less than speaking to you. This caller is McKie, but …”
“Yes?”
“You will understand.”
“I presume you have interpreted things correctly. Very well. Put him on.”
McKie's screen flickered, revealed a wide view of a Gowachin room such as he'd never before seen. A far wall held spears and cutting weapons, streamers of colorful pennants, glistening rocks, ornate carvings in a shiny black substance. All of this was backdrop for a semireclining chairdog occupied by an aged Gowachin who sat spraddle-legged being anointed by two younger Gowachin males. The attendants poured a thick, golden substance onto the aged Gowachin from green crystal flasks. The flasks were of a spiral design. The contents were gently massaged into the Gowachin's skin. The old Gowachin glistened with the stuff and when he blinked—no Phylum tattoos.
“As you can see,” he said, “I'm being prepared for …”
He broke off, recognizing that he spoke to a non-Gowachin.
Certainly, he'd known this. It was a slow reaction for a Dosadi.
“This is a mistake,” he said.
“Indeed.” McKie nodded pleasantly. “Your name?”
The old Gowachin scowled at this gaucherie, then chuckled.
“I am called Mrreg.”
As McKie had suspected. And why would a Tandaloor Gowachin assume the name, no, the
title
of the mythical monster who'd imbued the frog people with a drive toward savage testing? The implications went far beyond this planet, colored Dosadi.
“You made the decision for the Dosadi experiment?”
“Someone had to make it”
That was not a substantive answer, and McKie decided to take it to issue. “You are not doing me any favors! I now know what it means to be a Legum of the Gowachin Bar and I intend to employ my powers to their limits.”
It was as though McKie had worked some odd magic which froze the scene on his screen. The two attendants stopped pouring unguent, but did not look toward the pickup viewer which was recording their actions for McKie. As for Mrreg, he sat utterly still, his eyes fixed unblinking upon McKie.
McKie waited.
Presently, Mrreg turned to the attendant on his left.
“Please continue. There is little time.”
McKie took this as though spoken to himself.
“You're my client. Why did you send a proxy?”
Mrreg continued to study McKie.
“I see what Ekris meant.” Then, more briskly: “Well, McKie, I followed your career with interest. It now appears I did not follow you closely enough. Perhaps if we had not …”
He left the thought incomplete.
McKie picked up on this.
“It was inevitable that I escape from Dosadi.”
“Perhaps.”
The attendants finished their work, departed, taking the oddly shaped crystal flasks with them.
“Answer my question,” McKie said.
“I am not required to answer your question.”
“Then I withdraw from this case.”
Mrreg hunched forward in sudden alarm. “You cannot! Aritch isn't …”
“I have no dealings with Aritch. My client is that Gowachin who made the Dosadi decision.”
“You are engaging in strange behavior for a Legum. Yes, bring it.” This last was addressed to someone offscreen. Another attendant appeared, carrying a white garment shaped somewhat like a long apron with sleeves. The attendant proceeded to put this onto Mrreg, who ignored him, concentrating on McKie.
“Do you have any idea what you're doing, McKie?”
“Preparing to act for my client.”
“I see. Who told you about me?”
McKie shook his head.
“Did you really believe me unable to detect your presence or interpret the implications of what my own senses tell me?”
McKie saw that the Gowachin failed to see beneath the surface taunting. Mrreg turned to the attendant who was tying a green ribbon at the back of the apron. The old Gowachin had to lean forward for this. “A little tighter,” he said.
The attendant retied the ribbon.
Addressing McKie, Mrreg said, “Please forgive the distraction. This must proceed at its own pace.”
McKie absorbed this, assessed it Dosadi fashion. He could see the makings of an important Gowachin ritual here, but it was a new one to him. No matter. That could wait. He continued speaking, probing this Mrreg.
“When you found your own peculiar uses for Dosadi …”
“Peculiar? It's a universal motivation, McKie, that one tries to reduce the competition”
“Did you assess the price correctly, the price you might be asked to pay?”
“Oh, yes. I knew what I might have to pay.”
There was a clear tone of resignation in the Gowachin's voice, a rare tone for his species. McKie hesitated. The attendant
who'd brought the apron left the room, never once glancing in McKie's direction, although there had to be a screen to show whatever Mrreg saw of his caller.
“You wonder why I sent a proxy to hire the Legum?” Mrreg asked.
“Why Aritch?”
“Because he's a candidate for … greater responsibilities. You know, McKie, you astonish me. Undoubtedly you know what I could have done to you for this impertinence, yet that doesn't deter you.”
This revealed more than Mrreg might have intended, but he remained unaware (or uncaring) of what McKie saw. For his part, McKie maintained a bland exterior, as blank as that of any Dosadi.
“I have a single purpose,” McKie said. “Not even my client will sway me from it.”
“The function of a Legum,” Mrreg said.
The attendant of the white apron returned with an unsheathed blade. McKie glimpsed a jeweled handle and glittering sweep of cutting edge about twenty centimeters long. The blade curved back upon itself in a tight arc at the tip. The attendant, his back to McKie, stood facing Mrreg. The blade no longer was visible.
Mrreg, his left side partly obscured from McKie by the attendant, leaned to the right and peered up at the screen through which he watched McKie.
“You've never been appraised of the ceremony we call Laupuk. It's very important and we've been remiss in leaving this out of your education. Laupuk was essential before such a … project as Dosadi could be set in motion. Try to understand this ritual. It will help you prepare your case.”
“What was your Phylum?” McKie asked.
“That's no longer important but … very well. It was Great Awakening. I was High Magister for two decades before we made the Dosadi decision.”
“How many Rim bodies have you used up?”
“My final one. That, too, is no longer important. Tell me, McKie, when did you suspect Aritch was only a proxy?”
“When I realized that not all Gowachin were born Gowachin.”
“But Aritch …”
“Ahh, yes: Aritch aspires to greater responsibilities.”
“Yes … of course. I see. The Dosadi decision had to go far beyond a few phylums or a single species. There had to be a … I believe you Humans call it a ‘High Command.' Yes, that would've become obvious to one as alert as you now appear. Your many marriages deceived us, I think. Was that deliberate?”
Secure behind his Dosadi mask, McKie decided to lie.
“Yes.”
“Ahhhbhhhhh.”
Mrreg seemed to shrivel into himself, but rallied.
“I see. We were made to believe you some kind of dilettante with perverted emotions. It'd be judged a flaw which we could exploit. Then there's another High Command and we never suspected.”
It all came out swiftly, revealing the wheels within wheels which ruled Mrreg's view of the ConSentient universe. McKie marveled at how much more was said than the bare words. This one had been a long time away from Dosadi and had not been born there, but there were pressures on Mrreg now forcing him to the limits of what he'd learned on Dosadi.
McKie did not interrupt:
“We didn't expect you to penetrate Aritch's role, but that was not our intent, as you know. I presume …”
Whatever Mrreg presumed, he decided not to say it, musing aloud instead.
“One might almost believe you were born on Dosadi.”
McKie remained silent, allowing the fear in that conjecture to fill Mrreg's consciousness.

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