Ability could get a man up the ladder, but it had to be a particular kind of ability.
* * * *
During his sojourn as a “guest” of the Kerothi, MacMaine had made a point of exploring the history of the race. He knew perfectly well that the histories he had read were doctored, twisted, and, in general, totally unreliable in so far as presenting anything that would be called a history by an unbiased investigator.
But, knowing this, MacMaine had been able to learn a great deal about the present society. Even if the “history” was worthless as such, it did tell something about the attitudes of a society that would make up such a history. And, too, he felt that, in general, the main events which had been catalogued actually occurred; the details had been blurred, and the attitudes of the people had been misrepresented, but the skeleton was essentially factual.
MacMaine felt that he knew what kind of philosophy had produced the mental attitudes of the Court he now faced, and he felt he knew how to handle himself before them.
Half a dozen paces in front of the great desk, the color of the floor tiling was different from that of the rest of the floor. Instead of a solid blue, it was a dead black. Tallis, who was slightly ahead of MacMaine, came to a halt as his toes touched the edge of the black area.
Uh-oh! a balk line, MacMaine thought. He stopped sharply at the same point. Both of them just stood there for a full minute while they were carefully inspected by the members of the Court.
Then the High Commander gestured with one hand, and the officer to his left leaned forward and said: “Why is this one brought before us in the uniform of an officer, bare of any insignia of rank?”
It could only be a ritual question, MacMaine decided; they must know why he was there.
“I bring him as a candidate for admission to our Ingroup,” Tallis replied formally, “and ask the indulgence of Your Superiorities therefor.”
“And who are you who ask our indulgence?”
Tallis identified himself at length—name, rank, serial number, military record, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
By the time he had finished, MacMaine was beginning to think that the recitation would go on forever. The High Commander had closed his eyes, and he looked as if he had gone to sleep.
There was more formality. Through it all, MacMaine stood at rigid attention, flexing his calf muscles occasionally to keep the blood flowing in his legs. He had no desire to disgrace himself by passing out in front of the Court.
Finally the Kerothi officer stopped asking Tallis questions and looked at the High Commander. MacMaine got the feeling that there was about to be a departure from the usual procedure.
Without opening his eyes, the High Commander said, in a brittle, rather harsh voice, “These circumstances are unprecedented.” Then he opened his eyes and looked directly at MacMaine. “Never has an animal been proposed for such an honor. In times past, such a proposal would have been mockery of this Court and this Ingroup, and a crime of such monstrous proportions as to merit Excommunication.”
MacMaine knew what that meant. The word was used literally; the condemned one was cut off from all communication by having his sensory nerves surgically severed. Madness followed quickly; psychosomatic death followed eventually, as the brain, cut off from any outside stimuli except those which could not be eliminated without death following instantly, finally became incapable of keeping the body alive. Without feedback, control was impossible, and the organism-as-a-whole slowly deteriorated until death was inevitable.
At first, the victim screamed and thrashed his limbs as the brain sent out message after message to the rest of the body, but since the brain had no way of knowing whether the messages had been received or acted upon, the victim soon went into a state comparable to that of catatonia and finally died.
If it was not the ultimate in punishment, it was a damned close approach, MacMaine thought. And he felt that the word “damned” could be used in that sense without fear of exaggeration.
* * * *
“However,” the High Commander went on, gazing at the ceiling, “circumstances change. It would once have been thought vile that a machine should be allowed to do the work of a skilled man, and the thought that a machine might do the work with more precision and greater rapidity would have been almost blasphemous.
“This case must be viewed in the same light. As we are replacing certain of our workers on our outer planets with Earth animals simply because they are capable of doing the work more cheaply, so we must recognize that the same interests of economy govern in this case.
“A computing animal, in that sense, is in the same class as a computing machine. It would be folly to waste their abilities simply because they are not human.
“There also arises the question of command. It has been represented to this court, by certain officers who have been active in investigating the candidate animal, that it would be as degrading to ask a human officer to take orders from an animal as it would be to ask him to take orders from a commoner of the Unorganized Reserve, if not more so. And, I must admit, there is, on the surface of it, some basis for this reasoning.
“But, again, we must not let ourselves be misled. Does not a spaceship pilot, in a sense, take orders from the computer that gives him his orbits and courses? In fact, do not all computers give orders, in one way or another, to those who use them?
“Why, then, should we refuse to take orders from a computing animal?”
He paused and appeared to listen to the silence in the room before going on.
“Stand at ease until the High Commander looks at you again,” Tallis said in a low aside.
This was definitely the pause for adjusting to surprise.
It seemed interminable, though it couldn’t have been longer than a minute later that the High Commander dropped his gaze from the ceiling to MacMaine. When MacMaine snapped to attention again, the others in the room became suddenly silent.
“We feel,” the hard-faced old Kerothi continued, as if there had been no break, “that, in this case, we are justified in employing the animal in question.
“However, we must make certain exceptions to our normal procedure. The candidate is not a machine, and therefore cannot be treated as a machine. Neither is it human, and therefore cannot be treated as human.
“Therefore, this is the judgment of the Court of the Ingroup:
“The animal, having shown itself to be capable of behaving, in some degree, as befits an officer—including, as we have been informed, voluntarily conforming to our custom as regards superfluous hair—it shall henceforth be considered as having the same status as an untaught child or a barbarian, insofar as social conventions are concerned, and shall be entitled to the use of the human pronoun, he.
“Further, he shall be entitled to wear the uniform he now wears, and the insignia of a General of the Fleet. He shall be entitled, as far as personal contact goes, to the privileges of that rank, and shall be addressed as such.
“He will be accorded the right of punishment of an officer of that rank, insofar as disciplining his inferiors is concerned, except that he must first secure the concurrence of his Guardian Officer, as hereinafter provided.
“He shall also be subject to punishment in the same way and for the same offenses as humans of his rank, taking into account physiological differences, except as hereinafter provided.
“His reward for proper service”—The High Commander listed the demands MacMaine had made—“are deemed fitting, and shall be paid, provided his duties in service are carried out as proposed.
“Obviously, however, certain restrictions must be made. General MacMaine, as he is entitled to be called, is employed solely as a Strategy Computer. His ability as such and his knowledge of the psychology of the Earth animals are, as far as we are concerned at this moment, his only useful attributes. Therefore, his command is restricted to that function. He is empowered to act only through the other officers of the Fleet as this Court may appoint; he is not to com
mand directly.
“Further, it is ordered that he shall have a Guardian Officer, who shall accompany him at all times and shall be directly responsible for his actions.
“That officer shall be punished for any deliberate crime committed by the aforesaid General MacMaine as if he had himself committed the crime.
“Until such time as this Court may appoint another officer for the purpose, General Polan Tallis, previously identified in these proceedings, is appointed as Guardian Officer.”
The High Commander paused for a moment, then he said: “Proceed with the investment of the insignia.’
THE STRATEGY
General Sebastian MacMaine, sometime Colonel of Earth’s Space Force, and presently a General of the Kerothi Fleet, looked at the array of stars that appeared to drift by the main viewplate of his flagship, the blaster-boat Shudos.
Behind him, General Tallis was saying, “You’ve done well, Sepastian. Better than anyone could have really expected. Three battles so far, and every one of them won by a margin far greater than anticipated. Any ideas that anyone may have had that you were not wholly working for the Kerothi cause has certainly been dispelled.”
“Thanks, Tallis.” MacMaine turned to look at the Kerothi officer. “I only hope that I can keep it up. Now that we’re ready for the big push, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I were to lose a battle.”
“Frankly,” Tallis said, “that would depend on several things, the main one being whether or not it appeared that you had deliberately thrown the advantage to the enemy. But nobody expects you, or anyone else, to win every time. Even the most brilliant commander can make an honest mistake, and if it can be shown that it was an honest mistake, and one, furthermore, that he could not have been expected to avoid, he wouldn’t be punished for it. In your case, I’ll admit that the investigation would be a great deal more thorough than normal, and that you wouldn’t get as much of the benefit of the doubt as another officer might, but unless there is a deliberate error I doubt that anything serious would happen.”
“Do you really believe that, Tallis, or is it just wishful thinking on your part, knowing as you do that your punishment will be the same as mine if I fail?” MacMaine asked flatly.
Tallis didn’t hesitate. “If I didn’t believe it, I would ask to be relieved as your Guardian. And the moment I did that, you would be removed from command. The moment I feel that you are not acting for the best interests of Keroth, I will act—not only to protect myself, but to protect my people.”
“That’s fair enough,” MacMaine said. “But how about the others?”
“I cannot speak for my fellow officers—only for myself.” Then Tallis’ voice became cold. “Just keep your hands clean, Sepastian, and all will be well. You will not be punished for mistakes—only for crimes. If you are planning no crimes, this worry of yours is needless.”
“I ceased to worry about myself long ago,” MacMaine said coolly. “I do not fear personal death, not even by Excommunication. My sole worry is about the ultimate outcome of the war if I should fail. That, and nothing more.”
“I believe you,” Tallis said. “Let us say no more about it. Your actions are difficult for us to understand, in some ways, that’s all. No Kerothi would ever change his allegiance as you have. Nor has any Earth officer that we have captured shown any desire to do so. Oh, some of them have agreed to do almost anything we wanted them to, but these were not the intelligent ones, and even they were only doing it to save their own miserable hides.
“Still, you are an exceptional man, Sepastian, unlike any other of your race, as far as we know. Perhaps it is simply that you are the only one with enough wisdom to seek your intellectual equals rather than remain loyal to a mass of stupid animals who are fit only to be slaves.”
“It was because I foresaw their eventual enslavement that I acted as I did,” MacMaine admitted. “As I saw it, I had only two choices—to remain as I was and become a slave to the Kerothi or to put myself in your hands willingly and hope for the best. As you——”
He was interrupted by a harsh voice from a nearby speaker.
“Battle stations! Battle stations! Enemy fleet in detector range! Contact in twelve minutes!”
* * * *
Tallis and MacMaine headed for the Command Room at a fast trot. The three other Kerothi who made up the Strategy Staff came in at almost the same time. There was a flurry of activity as the computers and viewers were readied for action, then the Kerothi looked expectantly at the Earthman.
MacMaine looked at the detector screens. The deployment of the approaching Earth fleet was almost as he had expected it would be. There were slight differences, but they would require only minor changes in the strategy he had mapped out from the information brought in by the Kerothi scout ships.
Undoubtedly, the Kerothi position had been relayed to the Earth commander by their own advance scouts buzzing about in tiny, one-man shells just small enough to be undetectable at normal range.
Watching the positions on the screens carefully, MacMaine called out a series of numbers in an unhurried voice and watched as the orders, relayed by the Kerothi staff, changed the position of parts of the Kerothi fleet. Then, as the computer-led Earth fleet jockeyed to compensate for the change in the Kerothi deployment, MacMaine called out more orders.
The High Commander of Keroth had called MacMaine a “computing animal,” but the term was far from accurate. MacMaine couldn’t possibly have computed all the variables in that battle, and he didn’t try. It was a matter of human intuition against mechanical logic. The advantage lay with MacMaine, for, while the computer could not logically fathom the intuitive processes of its human opponent, MacMaine could and did have an intuitive grasp of the machine’s logic. MacMaine didn’t need to know every variable in the pattern; he only needed to know the pattern as a whole.
The Shudos was well in the rear of the main body of the Kerothi fleet. There was every necessity for keeping MacMaine’s flagship out of as much of the fighting as possible.
When the first contact was made, MacMaine was certain of the outcome. His voice became a steady drone as he called out instructions to the staff officers; his mind was so fully occupied with the moving pattern before him that he noticed nothing else in the room around him.
Spaceship against spaceship, the two fleets locked in battle. The warheads of ultralight torpedoes flared their eye-searing explosions soundlessly into the void; ships exploded like overcharged beer bottles as blaster energy caught them and smashed through their screens; men and machines flamed and died, scattering the stripped nuclei of their component atoms through the screaming silence of space.
And through it all, Sebastian MacMaine watched dispassionately, calling out his orders as ten Earthmen died for every Kerothi death.
This was a crucial battle. The big push toward the center of Earth’s cluster of worlds had begun. Until now, the Kerothi had been fighting the outposts, the planets on the fringes of Earth’s sphere of influence which were only lightly colonized, and therefore relatively easy to take. Earth’s strongest fleets were out there, to protect planets that could not protect themselves.
Inside that periphery were the more densely populated planets, the self-sufficient colonies which were more or less able to defend themselves without too much reliance on space fleets as such. But now that the backbone of the Earth’s Space Force had been all but broken, it would be a relatively easy matter to mop up planet after planet, since each one could be surrounded separately, pounded into surrender, and secured before going on to the next. That, at least, had been the original Kerothi intention. But MacMaine had told them that there was another way—a way which, if it succeeded, would save time, lives, and money for the Kerothi. And, if it failed, MacMaine said, they would be no worse off, they would simply have to resume the original plan.
* * * *
Now, the first of the big colony planets was to be taken. When the protecting Earth fleet was reduced to tatters, the Kero
thi would go on to Houston’s World as the first step in the big push toward Earth itself.
But MacMaine wasn’t thinking of that phase of the war. That was still in the future, while the hellish space battle was still at hand.
He lost track of time as he watched the Kerothi fleet take advantage of their superior tactical position and tear the Earth fleet to bits. Not until he saw the remains of the Earth fleet turn tail and run did he realize that the battle had been won.
The Kerothi fleet consolidated itself. There was no point in pursuing the fleeting Earth ships; that would only break up the solidity of the Kerothi deployment. The losers could afford to scatter; the winners could not. Early in the war, the Kerothi had used that trick against Earth; the Kerothi had broken and fled, and the Earth fleet had split up to chase them down. The scattered Earth ships had suddenly found that they had been led into traps composed of hidden clusters of Kerothi ships. Naturally, the trick had never worked again for either side.
“All right,” MacMaine said when it was all over, “let’s get on to Houston’s World.”
The staff men, including Tallis, were already on their feet, congratulating MacMaine and shaking his hands. Even General Hokotan, the Headquarters Staff man, who had been transferred temporarily to the Fleet Force to keep an eye on both MacMaine and Tallis, was enthusiastically pounding MacMaine’s shoulder.
No one aboard was supposed to know that Hokotan was a Headquarters officer, but MacMaine had spotted the spy rather easily. There was a difference between the fighters of the Fleet and the politicoes of Headquarters. The politicoes were no harder, perhaps, nor more ruthless, than the fighters, but they were of a different breed. Theirs was the ruthlessness of the bully who steps on those who are weaker rather than the ruthlessness of the man who kills only to win a battle. MacMaine had the feeling that the Headquarters Staff preferred to spend their time browbeating their underlings rather than risk their necks with someone who could fight back, however weakly.
The Randall Garrett Megapack Page 49