Worlds in Chaos

by James P. Hogan

  A Bolivian immigration agent processed their papers as well as those of Vrel and his companions. Once again there were no hitches with the system, and Professor Wintner and Dr. Armley were officially admitted to the country. The party came through into what appeared to be the central concourse, where a number of armed Hyadean military were on duty. It was the first time that Cade had seen Hyadean combat troops close-up. They wore dark brown uniforms and black helmets, with lots of gadgets and pouches, and carried short weapons suggestive of assault rifles but stubbier, wider at the muzzle, and studded with controls. They had superb physiques and looked tough, a suggestion enhanced by the blockish, square-faced Hyadean build. Cade decided he could get by without tangling with them.

  Forgar left them there to go his own way, along with most of the other passengers from the SST. Several, however, rode with Cade and Marie, Vrel and Thryase, in a transparent-topped car running on a monorail into another modular hodgepodge, only on a larger scale. They learned that this was the Hyadean residential part of Uyali. The area beyond, looking more like a familiar if somewhat ramshackle town, which they had seen during the descent, was the Terran sector. The two areas were segregated because of an ongoing problem of insurgents from the north infiltrating into the work force to spread discontent and conduct sabotage.

  The two Hyadeans checked with some kind of office and then conducted Cade and Marie to separate quarters in a hive of cells sprouting off in different directions. They turned out to be quite comfortable accommodation units, plain but serviceable, yet surprisingly spacious. Cade’s first problem was with the unfamiliar wall units and gadgets intended for Hyadean voice-direction, which were supposed to have been adapted for English but in reality rapidly became confused. In the end, he settled for the prospect of making do with minimal luxuries and conveniences. He got the shower to work, and in the course of a learning experience that involved a few minor scaldings, freezings, and flow surges, succeeded in taming it. Afterward, he laid out the collection of casual slacks, plaid, check, and plain shirts, lightweight tan jacket, straw hat, reserved sweaters, zippered topcoat, and other items that had seemed an appropriate wardrobe for a visiting academic—all very conservative compared to his customary choices—and considered what might be appropriate for the evening. He really had no way of telling, since he didn’t know what the plans were. But before he could give the matter much thought, he felt himself being overcome by a shortness of breath and acute muzzy-headedness. Minutes later, Marie tapped on the door, and when Cade found the right word to open it, tottered in saying that she felt the same way. Then Vrel called to say that he had talked to Corto Tevlak, who was anxious to meet them. Cade groaned that right now neither of them wanted to meet anybody. They’d picked up some kind of South American bug or something already, he was sure.

  “Bugs don’t work that quickly,” Vrel assured him. “It’s altitude sickness. Terrans seem to be more affected by it than us. Get some rest. Most people adapt after an initial lousy night. I haven’t arranged anything for tonight. We’ll be going to see Corto first thing tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Cade felt better on awakening, able to take on the world again. After showering and shaving, he selected olive pants, the lightweight jacket, and a narrow-check shirt with knitted tie as his attire for the day. When he stopped by Marie’s room, it turned out that she had recovered too. Vrel and Thryase arrived soon afterward to collect them. Although there was a communal canteen on the ground floor of the accommodation complex, they ate in a private room nearby, to avoid needless questions as to who the Terrans were. It was gray with metal furnishings and exposed pipes, reminding Cade of the wardroom in a Navy ship that he had visited once. Breakfast was an insipid Hyadean vegetable-based pseudo-sausage covered in a kind of synthetic liquid cheese, accompanied by yellow bread and a warm, fruity drink. Only then, through talking to Thryase, did Cade appreciate fully the audacity that Vrel had displayed in spiriting him and Marie out of the U.S. The normal Hyadean, inured to authority and needing orders from above before acting, would have been incapable of conceiving such a scheme, which was probably why nothing Vrel did had been questioned. Thryase wondered if Vrel’s stay on Earth was turning him into a Terran—a remark that Vrel seemed to find pleasing. They departed for Tevlak’s in a Hyadean flyer shortly afterward, heading northeast across the southern extremity of the Altiplano.

  From the conversation during the flight, it seemed that Thryase was visiting Earth on behalf of a dissident movement of political “doves” who questioned the militant Hyadean policy toward the Querl. The Querl had not been expelled because of their inability to merge into the Hyadean system, Thryase maintained, but had separated because of their refusal to submit to it. He had entertained doubts about the official line for some time, but surrounded on all sides by a majority steeped in the conventional mindset, like many others he had hung back from speaking out strongly. Coming to Earth had opened his eyes to a lot of things and given him more confidence. What the Hyadeans were told represented lawlessness was nothing more than the expression of independent people free to live as they chose. He saw the variety and richness of Earth’s cultures as a consequence of the same thing. Marie didn’t quite share Thryase’s idealistic view of universal freedom on Earth, but she seemed encouraged. It was the first time she had heard the official Hyadean line being questioned by a Hyadean.

  They flew low over white salt wastes and reedy marshes where flamingos rose in sunlit flurries of orange and magenta reflecting from the pools like fireworks displays. Ahead, the land became more hilly, rising toward mountains with the snow line of the Cordillera Real visible distantly behind. A valley opened out to reveal a huddled township set astride a meandering creek and giving way at the outskirts to patches of green cultivation crisscrossed by trails. The flyer dipped to pass over red-roofed, Spanish-style houses looking aged and dusty, and singled out one of several residences standing apart among clumps of yucca bush and a scattering of trees along the creek bank on the far side. It was built of adobe with a tile roof, and enclosed by a slatted fence running down to the creek on two sides. Outside the fence, a ramshackle assortment of maybe a dozen cars, trucks, and other vehicles was drawn up haphazardly along the roadside among the boulders and trees. Brown-skinned figures sitting in the open doors or under leanto shelters of blankets or plastic sheeting poles looked up curiously as the flyer descended. It landed inside the enclosure, alongside several automobiles, a newish-looking pickup truck, and a couple of Hyadean personal-model flyers. There was also a larger, more impressive model of flyer, sleek and businesslike, consisting of a dark blue body riding on two yellow nacelles. The Hyadean equivalent of a Learjet, Cade decided. Two men with the high-cheeked, long-nosed features of Andean Indians, neatly groomed and wearing loose white shirts with black pants, but tough-looking nevertheless and carrying sidearms, had already appeared from the house and were standing in front of the door when the arrivals got out.

  Before anyone had moved a pace, a rotund figure, chunky-looking even for a Hyadean, swept out of the doorway, arms extended as if greeting long-lost friends. In all Cade’s time of dealing with them, this was the most incongruous Cade had seen. His skin hue was dark, varying from blue to purple at the nose and cheeks, and what could be seen of his hair was crimson, protruding at the sides below a native-style, wide-brimmed derby. Along with the hat he wore a poncho embroidered with brightly colored designs, and voluminous trousers tucked into calf-length boots. He recognized Vrel and Thryase, doubtless from video exchanges, and greeted them exuberantly in Hyadean, gripping each in turn in the customary Hyadean fashion, Roman style, hands gripping the other’s wrist. Then he switched to Terran handshakes. “You must be Dr. Armley, whom we’ve heard about. . . . And you are Professor Wintner. . . .”

  “This is Corto Tevlak,” Vrel managed to squeeze in.

  Tevlak waved at the surroundings. “We don’t have much in the way of campus life here. But welcome anyway. There are three more
waiting inside to meet you.” He turned to usher the party back toward the doorway, at the same time speaking in short, simple, but well-formed sentences. “And how are you shaping up this morning? Flew in last night. The altitude sometimes affects Terrans. We don’t seem so bothered by it.”

  “Last night was a bit rough,” Cade said. “We’re okay now.”

  “Splendid.”

  They passed on into the house. In the hallway, Tevlak took off his derby and jammed it on top of one of several gaudily painted Indian devil masks glaring down from the wall above a carved rack bearing coats and cloaks. The interior admitted little sun but was well lit artificially. It was virtually a gallery of art, dress, ornaments, and furnishings, not just local forms but mixing styles from everywhere. Besides Indian blankets and tapestries adorning the walls and covering chair backs, and pottery pieces emblazoned with Inca or in some cases possibly Central American designs, Cade picked out a couple of Benin bronzes, ebony carvings and figurines that looked African, an Arab burnous, and a Cossack astrakhan hat. Crossed Maori throwing spears commanded the rear of an alcove, between an arrangement of Navajo sand paintings. The bureau at the rear of the large room that Tevlak led them to was Victorian European or North American; a hand-cut glass decanter atop an ivory lacework corner table that could have been Turkish held a decorative wax candle (ugh); the Easter Island head set on the sill of the high window was wearing a French kepi. Marie caught Cade’s eye and gave a short, bemused shake of her head.

  Two of the Hyadeans that Tevlak had mentioned—a youngish-looking man and an older female—were seated together at one end of a large central table, which from the litter of bric-a-brac on the surrounding shelves and side cabinet had been cleared to make room. A shiny cylindrical object with what looked like a lens was set up on a stand at the other end, and a couple of similar devices were to the sides of the room. They looked like cameras. A flat box with a screen lay near the one on the table. There was another box with a screen and controls, along with an opened case of papers, pieces of auxiliary equipment, and other oddments in front of the younger Hyadean. He looked at Cade expectantly and seemed tempted to grin, though uncertain if he should. He had dark green hair blending into black in parts, and had acquired a T-shirt with an animal design and inscription in Spanish, though still worn beneath a regular Hyadean tunic jacket. His features were familiar.

  “I know you, don’t I?” Cade began. “Where was it . . . ?”

  “Veyan Nyarl,” the Hyadean supplied. “We met at the mission in Los Angeles a few months ago. I was passing through the West Coast.”

  “Yes, right! You were the . . . ‘investigator’—from some Hyadean reporting outfit that worked with the news media.”

  “I still am.” Nyarl indicated the female with him. “And this is the person in charge of my . . . I suppose you’d say something like ‘section’: Hetch Luodine.”

  “Hello, Mr. Cade.” Luodine extended a hand. “Hetch,” Cade knew, was a Hyadean form of female address, something like “Ms.”—not part of the name. It was appropriate for Nyarl to use it when referring to his boss. She had traveled to most parts of Earth, putting together what she described as stories about “more interesting and unusual” sides of Terran life for Hyadean consumption. The blue-and-yellow flyer outside was hers and Nyarl’s.

  Cade indicated Marie. “This is Marie . . .” He looked at her uncertainly, realizing he didn’t know. “Cade?” She nodded. “My, er . . . a very good friend.” Marie and they exchanged greetings.

  The remaining Hyadean had meanwhile stood up from an armchair—embroidered Queen Anne, fitted with tasseled silk cushions that looked Chinese—where he had been sitting when they entered. He was broad, with curly brown hair, which was unusual, and an exceptionally Hyadean face composed of solid horizontal lines, looking as if it had come out of a press. He wore a loose, dark shirtlike garment tucked into baggy black trousers secured by a belt, which carried a hand-weapon in a gray, holsterlike pouch.

  “This is Brezc Hudro,” Tevlak informed them. “He is with the—”

  “Military,” Marie supplied.

  Tevlak looked surprised. “How did you know? He is out of uniform.”

  “I can tell,” Marie said.

  Cade looked the Hyadean up and down again. He could picture him as one of the Hyadeans they had seen on duty at the air terminal the day before.

  “You are from CounterAction,” Luodine said to Marie. “Are soldiers so much alike everywhere?”

  “Something like that. You develop a radar.”

  Hudro seemed unperturbed, simply spreading his hands in a gesture that asked what he could add to that.

  Tevlak fussed around, finding seats and clearing chairs of trinket boxes and framed prints. An Indian housekeeper appeared, and went away again with orders from Tevlak for refreshments and drinks. Vrel opened the warm-up talk. “You have a genuine native dwelling,” he remarked to Tevlak. “Most Hyadeans that I know prefer our own prefabs, even away from the bases. Does it go with the Terran art, somehow?”

  “We were just asking the same thing when you arrived,” Luodine said.

  Tevlak, who hadn’t sat down himself but continued moving around the room, made an expansive gesture that could have meant anything. “I like native Terran surroundings. They create a stratosphere that helps me think.”

  “Atmosphere,” his veebee corrected from somewhere beneath the poncho, which Tevlak had left on.

  “Whatever. You don’t have to talk and be prattled back at all the time. We back home have forgotten it.”

  “Do you feel safe out here, away from the bases?” Thryase asked. “With the trouble that’s going on among the Terrans? A lot of them don’t like us. I’ve seen it myself in the U.S. Did you know that we’re training their police and military?”

  Tevlak guffawed loudly. Cade suspected it was an acquired mannerism. Hyadeans didn’t laugh much, tending more just to smile when amused. When they did, it usually signified embarrassment. “It’s different here. I am a threat to nobody. Everyone here is aware of it. Do you know what the prices I can get mean to them?” He gestured in the direction of the window. “Did you see those people outside? They travel miles to bring me their work. I am the big father-number.”

  “Figure.”

  “Figure.” Tevlak laughed again. This time it seemed Hyadean. Hudro seemed to have reservations but chose not to press them at this point.

  Vrel, who Cade gathered was the organizer of the meeting, looked at Luodine. “Let’s get started. It’s your show now. How do you want to do it?”

  “I’ve got a list of things to cover. We go through a dummy run first.” Luodine nodded at Roland and Marie. “That’ll give you a chance to familiarize and get your lines together. Then we do it again live, a bit more formally. Don’t worry about getting it perfect. We do a lot of editing.”

  “Wait a minute,” Cade said. “What are we talking about here, ‘live’?” He remembered the direct communications to Chryse that he had seen in the Hyadean offices in LA. “Is this going out over your network back home?”

  “Well . . . of course.” Luodine looked surprised. “Isn’t that why we are here? It’s not just to drink coffee.”

  “You mean it’ll be going out right now, as we speak?” Marie queried. She glanced at Cade uneasily.

  “Not that directly,” Luodine replied. “I said we do preliminary editing here. Then it would be reviewed and cleaned up by the directors back home. But within a few days or so, sure. I’d hope you’re going to be big news—the other side to what the people there have been told. Hyadeans involved with Terran leaders who plot assassinations and lie about it. What an exposure! We got the idea from watching how the media works here. Didn’t you know? Vrel, didn’t you tell them? “

  “I was more concerned with getting them out of the country,” Vrel said.

  Cade shook his head, bewildered. Yes, it was the kind of thing he’d wanted; but it was happening so soon. The thought of talking to aliens at
distant stars rendered him momentarily speechless. A week ago he had been just a guy in California making a living and minding his own business. Now he was hours away from possibly becoming an interstellar celebrity.

  “What’s the problem?” Luodine asked. “I thought you’d be in favor.”

  Marie began, “It’s just that . . .” She faltered, looking to Cade for a moment. “Well, it isn’t as if they’re not in communication with Earth. In two days the powers back here will have the story, know our faces. Then where do we go?”

  “But that’s no different from the position you’re in anyway,” Vrel pointed out. Which of course was true. Cade looked blankly back at Marie. Her expression said she couldn’t argue with it either. “You’re already wanted by the ISS,” Vrel went on. “So I assumed you’d want us to make a version of the take for the U.S. network as well. That’s what I told Luodine.”

  “We’re set up to do it,” Luodine confirmed.

  Cade had a glimpse of how Terrans must look through Hyadean eyes—forever finding reasons why not to. He decided to try being a Hyadean instead. “Okay,” he heard himself say. “So let’s do it.”

  Luodine lapsed into Hyadean exchanges with Nyarl, who carried out what sounded like some kind of programming dialogue with the equipment, checking responses on one of the screens. Then they were ready to go. Thryase opened by answering some questions from Luodine, then going off into longer monologues. Since this version was for a Hyadean audience, the language was Hyadean. For Cade and Marie’s benefit, Vrel summarized in murmured asides. Essentially, Thryase was repeating the skepticism he had expressed on the way from Uyali regarding the Hyadean depictions of the Querl. He offered the conclusion that the hostility with the Querl was an outcome of the same kind of policy that he saw being enacted on Earth now. What kind of policy was that? Luodine asked. Exploitation, Thryase answered. The Hyadean power elite sought to subdue the Querl in order to establish overlordships for themselves, away from the drabness of their own tired, worn-down planets. But the splendors of Earth went far beyond anything ever seen on the Querl worlds. Now Earth represented the premium pickings for luxury resorts and estates, to be made a quasi-feudal reserve where the privileged could get rich from Terran labor and resources. Financial control was being effected with the collusion of Terran leaders in return for the Hyadeans conferring wealth, power, and protection.