“That does not mean his recommendations were followed.”
“After we’re through, I’d suggest you read them yourself and make that determination. Fair enough?”
Trelinn nodded cautiously. “I would say that would be a fair procedure, so fair that I’ll probably do little more than skim them, because your willingness to share them indicates to me that the Service has followed Dagati’s recommendations.” He paused. “What about the evaluation of the culture?”
“Cultures,” corrected Gerswin quietly. “Or perhaps survivors and culture.”
“Rather a curious description, Commander.”
“As you suggested, Linn, the studies were done. Give you those keys as well. Have to access them through a security console.”
“What?”
“Rule 5, Section 3, of I.S.S. Procedures—‘data prejudicial or containing a judgment prejudicial to a native culture…shall not be disclosed to that culture…nor made available in any form where it can be disseminated.’ The so-called prejudice rule.”
“Would you summarize what you recall of the cultural reports?”
Gerswin shrugged. “Simple enough. Two cultures, if you can call them that. Shambletowners and devilkids. Term devilkid coined by the shambletowners. Shambletowners exhibit strains of a genetic predilection toward cultural and personal paranoia in the extreme, manifest high degree of xenophobia, rigid customs, low level of innovation, low birth rate. In this climate, traits that maximize group survival.”
“And the devilkids?”
“Survivors. Adaptable, intelligent, quick reflexes, open-minded to the point of amorality. Egocentric, loners, avoid society. Largest social unit the family. Might tend toward a clan structure if numerous enough.”
Major Trelinn shook his head for the first time. “Neither sounds terribly appetizing. One cooperates without intelligence; the other has intelligence without cooperation.”
“Shows why field work or preaching won’t work. The shambletowners won’t trust a word you say. The devilkids are impossible to find, and respect only force, or their own conclusions. We don’t have the resources to deal with either, except on a few case-by-case instances.”
“But there are some shambletowners in the new town?”
“A few. Mainly because they had no hope in the old town. Too far down the social ladder, or too ambitious. Probably lose some of their children, or the children will adopt the new town as the basis for their paranoia. Culture’s insane, but so are some of the individuals, in or outside that culture.”
“So what are you going to do about the tree problem?” asked the major.
Gerswin repressed a sigh, glad that Trelinn had finally gotten around to asking the question.
“What would you do if you were in my position?” countered the commander.
Trelinn pulled at his chin. “The shambletowners won’t believe you, and you can’t force them to leave the trees alone. What about some sort of barrier?”
“Possibly the best ideal solution, but we don’t have the power or the equipment to cover all the area they can and will damage.”
The dapper major frowned. “How much damage can they really do?”
“If they could, they would heat with wood all the time. They need it for their pottery, tiles, and cooking. One reason we got some younger shambletowners was that they were cold.
“Shambletowners could take out a whole watershed in the next two years. Trees are too young and the undersoil isn’t stabilized yet.”
“That much damage from so few?”
“Linn, those are only five- to ten-year-old trees. There’s not much undergrowth yet, either. Another twenty years and there’d be no real problem. But not now. Check what deforestation did to Old Earth to begin with.”
Gerswin kept from shaking his head and waited.
“You only have two choices, don’t you? You can accept the damage, or you can relocate them. Is there anywhere they can go?”
Gerswin nodded, as much in relief as in agreement.
“That’s one reason for the whole reclamation effort. Only a few of the shambletowns had stable or positive population projections. Some few areas they can go to until the land here will support them in higher standard.”
“But not so desirable?”
“Very little difference for the next century. After that, shouldn’t matter.”
“I don’t know.” Trelinn pulled at his chin again. “Difficult procedural problem you face, Commander.”
Gerswin stood. He’d gotten the best that he could.
“Well, I appreciate having your thoughts, Linn. Think about it, and if you have any other ideas, let me know. Here are the access keys I promised, if you still want to check them.”
The commander handed a small square of paper to the major, on which he had noted the pertinent key words and numbers.
“There were a few others matters…”
Gerswin managed to repress yet another sigh.
“I understand. Until I get this resolved, afraid I can’t focus on other things as clearly as I would like.”
The commander moved toward the portal, toward Trelinn.
The major took the hint and stood, inclining his head.
“I appreciate your involving me in this, Commander, and look forward to continuing our discussions later.”
Gerswin said nothing, but inclined his own head in return.
The major left, not a hair on his head out of place, his uniform still creased and immaculate, and without a sound.
Once the portal had closed behind Trelinn, Gerswin permitted himself the luxury of a deep breath. The man was so obsessed with procedure that thinking came last, if at all.
He reseated himself at the console and drafted the order he wanted. Then he buzzed Nitiri.
“Look this over. Fix it, if you think it needs fixing, and then fax it to Admin Legal. About half an hour after it hits the legal console, expect a buzz from Trelinn and whoever else is on the side of the benighted shambletowners.”
“Yes, ser.”
Gerswin stood, stretched, and paced around the office. Finally, he sat back down to address the blinking lights on the console.
LIX
The flash of the double red lights at the edge of the console caught Gerswin’s attention before the sharpness of the sound.
Buzzz! Buzzz!
“Gerswin.”
The image on the other end was Lerwin’s.
“Problem, Captain. Lostwin was bringing in the fourth load of those Denv shambletowners, landing them outside Birmha.”
Gerswin nodded.
“Finished off-loading, and one of the Birmha types unloads a sling on the Denv group.”
“And it went downhill from there?”
“Worse. Trelinn orders them to stop. They didn’t. He scrambled out of the cockpit and starts using his stunner. The Denv types know better, but not the Birmha types.”
“How badly was he hurt?”
“Cracked ribs, medics think. Gash across the face. Still en route back to base.”
“That the last flitter load for now?”
“Yes.”
“Tell the medical staff. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Lerwin nodded, and Gerswin jabbed at the console, waiting for Nitiri’s face to show.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Anyone out there?”
“Haskil.”
“Come on in, then.”
Gerswin turned and walked toward the portal. He did not feel much like sitting in any case, and the office seemed smaller and more enclosed than ever.
“Yes, ser?” repeated Nitiri as the portal closed behind him.
“Need to convene a Board of Inquiry on Major Trelinn’s actions this afternoon. As soon as possible, and within the next few days. Done strictly. Make sure the board is totally impartial. Rather have officers sympathetic to Trelinn than openly hostile.”
Nitiri’s head moved frantically, as if in disapproval.
�
�You disapprove, Nitiri?”
“No, ser.”
“I do, but that’s not the question. Imperial law is rather strict about firing on civilians except in self-defense.”
Gerswin glanced at the blank wall across from his console, the spot where he had never hung any holos or honors, unlike Manders and his predecessors.
“Is that all, ser?”
“That’s all, Nitiri. That’s all.”
LX
The dapper man with the pencil-thin mustache stepped through the portal, followed by two armed technicians. He wore a plain gray tunic and matching trousers.
“You can go.” The commandant motioned the techs back through the portal.
“But…ser…”
“Where can he go?”
“Yes, ser.”
They left, and the portal closed behind them.
“Have a seat, Linn.”
“No, thank you, Commander. What I have to say will not take long. While I appreciate your kindness in seeing me before I leave, and while you know I am less than perfectly happy with the way in which the Service has considered my years of devotion, those are not the reasons for my request.”
The commander nodded, remained standing.
The dapper man, stockier but no taller than the commander, coughed, then cleared his throat and looked from one side of the office to the other.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he continued, “but as a matter of principle alone I wanted you to know that I understand exactly what you are doing and why. Although I can applaud the technical skill with which you have managed to accomplish your goals well within the laws of the Empire and the regulations of the Service, I find your ultimate objective of eliminating the shambletowners nothing less than genocidal.”
The stockier man paused, as if waiting for a reaction.
“Linn, unlike you, I did not attempt to stun down an entire population.”
“That misses the point, as you well know!” The dark-haired former major’s voice began to rise, in both pitch and volume.
“Who knows you are a former devilkid? Who knows the shambletowners killed your parents? Who knows your drive for reclamation is merely a tool to destroy the shambletowners and their culture?”
“Linn.” The hawk-yellow eyes of the commander caught the other, who fell silent, stepping back a pace in the face of the glance.
“First,” responded Gerswin, “the I.S.S. and everyone else knows I’m a devilkid. Never hid it. Second, parents’ deaths are a matter of record for everyone. You found it. Third, shambletowners are doomed whether I do anything or not. Mahmood Dagati proved that. Fourth, you are incompetent and refuse to face it. Fifth, you’d rather have a dead Earth man abandon your precious belief in procedures or do anything remotely resembling work.”
The commander stopped as he watched the other’s bright eyes and realized that Trelinn was not listening, but merely waiting to finish his statements.
“You still want to destroy the shambletowners, and they know it. They fear you like the devil. They cringe when you appear. They frighten their children with stories about you.”
The commandant took a step forward. Trelinn backed away.
“Fear. You project terror and fear. You use it to cow everyone. But I’m not afraid of you, and I know what you are.”
Gerswin shook his head.
“Sorry you feel that way, Linn. Won’t be easy for you. Anything else?”
“No, Commander. Just remember that I know what you are, and I’m not totally without friends on New Augusta.”
“Suppose you’re not.” Gerswin smiled as he finished the observation, and the former major stiffened as if repressing a shiver.
“Is there anything you want to confess?” asked the officer who had resigned.
“Confess? Hardly!” laughed the commander, with a single hard bark. “Stand by what I’ve done, and what has to be done. Still a job to be done here, a real job. Will be a lot to do long after you’re dust, Linn. Has nothing to do with shambletowners.” He paused before concluding, “Have a good trip home.”
The commander leaned back and tapped the intercom. The portal opened, and the two techs came bursting through.
“Mister Trelinn says he’s through.”
The ex-major said nothing as he was escorted from the commander’s office.
LXI
EXECUTIVE SUMMARY
WRIT OF APPEAL
IN RE
Gillis Marjinn Trelinn
Major
Interstellar Survey Service
Charge: Use of deadly weapon against non-Imperial citizens (I.J.C. 40(b))
Finding: Guilty, with mitigating circumstances
Charge: Endangering I.S.S. Personnel through violation of Imperial Judicial Codes (I.S.S. Regulation, Part C.3)
Finding: Guilty, with mitigating circumstances
Summary of Defense:
The defendant claimed that a standard issue stunner was not a deadly weapon within the meaning of the Code; that the conduct of the non-Imperial citizenry constituted a threat to I.S.S. personnel; that the local commandant’s decision to relocate a portion of that citizenry incited the non-Imperial citizenry against which the weapon was used; and that the use of nonlethal force was solely to protect Imperial citizenry.
Defense further contended that the non-Imperial citizenry was incited by the local commandant’s relocation decision; that the defendant’s use of force was necessary to prevent injury to Imperial personnel; and that since the stunner could not inflict lethal injuries the defendant did not violate the Imperial Judicial Code for the reason that his actions did not constitute the use of a deadly weapon and were designed to protect rather than endanger Imperial personnel.
Court of Inquiry Findings of Fact:
Historical, practical, and legal considerations all define a military issue stunner as a deadly weapon.
No actual violence nor injury occurred to Imperial personnel until after the defendant attacked non-Imperial citizenry with the stunner.
The defendant and three other Imperial personnel suffered injuries of various degrees requiring extended medical treatment.
In the outbreak of violence that followed the discharge of the stunner by the defendant, between five and fifteen non-Imperial citizens were injured.
Summary of Appeal of Verdict:
With regard to both counts, the defendant claimed that procedures were irregular in Court of Inquiry findings of fact; that procedures were irregular in the assignment of personnel to the Court Martial; that the disregard of seniority in base assignments and duties deprived the defendant of due process; that the standard definition of a deadly weapon should not be applied to unique and primitive circumstances; and that the behavioral pattern of the particular non-Imperial citizenry is uniquely prone to violence, thereby requiring an earlier reaction than in the case of normal self-defense tests.
Summary of Appeal Tribunal Findings:
The verdict on both counts is upheld; the appeals are denied.
The local commandant acted within the scope of both the Imperial Judicial Code and the Regulations of the Interstellar Survey Service.
The finding of mitigation and suspension of sentence upon receipt of the defendant’s resignation from the I.S.S. is within the scope of the code and the service regulations.
No further appeals need be heard.
LXII
The greenish-blue tint of the wall imparted a restfulness to the small room with the empty console and the two standard padded chairs. Three tattered faxtab flimsies lay upon the single table. The flextile floors were the standard dark gray of Imperial outposts everywhere. The portal to the main corridor was open, but the interior archway to the rooms behind was closed.
Three lights on the console blinked, then shifted from green to amber as the messages were recorded and stacked for replay.
After a time, a thin-faced technician wearing a pale blue coverall and the insignia of the Medical Corps walked through the op
en portal from the corridor and took the small swivel chair behind the console. She shook her hands as if to relieve the stiffness in her fingers and forearms and pulled herself up before the twin screens.
Carelessly pushing a wisp of short black hair back over her right ear, she touched the studs on the keyboard and began to scan the incoming messages that had been held for review.
She did not look up at the hum of voices that approached as the archway opened from the consulting rooms in the rear.
Through the archway stepped a short and stocky, though not heavy, woman with strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and a peaches and cream freckled complexion. Her coverall was the dark brown of the reclamation technical support staff. On her shoulder patch were the twisted spears of fire and water, above the twin linked spheres of barren wasteland and green forests—the insignia of the landbuilders, whose dozers systematically scoured the poisons from the land and prepared the way for the replantings and reforestings.
The second woman, of medium height with natural silver hair marking her as from Scandia, wore not only the coverall of the Medical Corps, but the linked gold bars of an officer on one collar and the twined serpents and staff on the other.
“You’re sure?” asked the blonde in a tone that indicated she was repeating a question in hopes of getting another answer.
“That’s what all the tests show.”
The blonde woman, her eyes still bright with tears unshed, looked down at the dark gray of the floor tiles, then at the blank wall to her right. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Decanting wouldn’t hurt you, not at all,” pressed the doctor.
“Can I let you know tomorrow? I need to think.”
“Take as much time as you need. Don’t push it. If you’re sure tomorrow, that’s fine. Another few days wouldn’t matter one way or another. But make sure you think it through.” The doctor’s voice dropped a note as she saw the technician at the screens.
“Thank you.” The support tech squared her shoulders, turned, and walked out through the still-open portal.
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