Next of Kin

by Eric Frank Russell

  TEN

  It was a clever trap based upon the knowledge that questions about factual, familiar, everyday things can be answered automatically, almost without thought. Whereas a liar seeking a supporting lie needs time to create consistency. It should have got Leeming completely foozled. That it did not do so was no credit to his own wits.

  While his mind still whi2led his mouth opened and the wards “Not much” popped out of their own accord. For a mad moment he wondered whether Eustace had arrived and joined the party.

  “Why not?”

  Encouraged by his tongue’s mastery of the situation, Leeming gave it free rein. “I have told you before and I am telling you again that no Eustace will concern himself for one moment with a grievance that is wholly imaginary. A Terran who is guilty of a crime has no genuine cause for complaint. He has brought vengeance upon himself and the cure lies in his own hands. If he doesn’t enjoy suffering he need only get busy and undo whatever wrong he had done to another.”

  “Will his Eustace urge or influence him to take action necessary to avoid punishment?”

  “Never having been a criminal myself,” answered Leeming with great virtue, “I am unable to tell you. I suppose it would be near the truth to say that Terrans behave because association with Eustaces compels them to behave. They have little choice about the matter.”

  “On the other hand, Terrans have no way of compelling their Eustaces to behave?”

  “No compulsion is necessary. A Eustace will always listen to his partner’s reason and act within the limits of common justice.”

  “As I told you,” said Pallam in an aside to the Commandant, “the Terran, is the lower form of the two.” He returned attention to the prisoner. “All that you have told us is acceptable because it is consistent—as far as it goes.”

  “What d’you mean; as far as it goes?”

  “Let me take it to the bitter end,” suggested Pallam. “I do not see any rational reason why any criminal’s Eustace should allow his partner to be driven to suicide. Since they are mutually independent of others but mutually dependent upon each other, a Eustace’s inaction is contrary to the basic law of survival.”

  “Nobody commits suicide until he has gone off his rocker.”

  “Until he has done what?”

  “Become insane,” said Leeming. “An insane person is worthless as a material partner. To a Eustace he is already dead, not worth protecting or avenging. Eustaces associate only with the sane.”

  Pouncing on that, Pallam said excitedly, “So the benefit they derive is rooted somewhere within Terran minds? Is it mental sustenance that they draw from you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Does your Eustace ever make you feel tired, exhausted, perhaps a little stupefied?”

  “Yes,” said Leeming with emphasis. How true, brother, how true. Right now he’d find pleasure in choking Eustace to death.

  “I would like to pursue this phenomenon for months,” Pallam told the Commandant. “It is an absorbing subject There are no records of symbiotic association among anything higher than the plants and six species of the lower elames To find it among the higher vertebrates, sentient forms, and one of them intangible, is remarkable, truly remarkable.” The Commandant looked impressed without knowing what the other was talking about.

  “Give him your report,” urged Pallam.

  “Our liaison officer, CoIonel Shomuth, has replied from the Lathian sector,” the Commandant told Leeming. “He is fluent in Cosmoglotta and therefore was able to question many Terran prisoners without the aid of a Lathian interpreter We sent him a little more information and the result is significant.”

  “What else did you expect?” Leeming observed, inwardly consumed with curiosity.

  Ignoring that, the Commandant went on, “He reported that most of the prisoners refused to make comment or to admit anything. They maintained determined silence. That is understandable because nothing could shake their belief that they were being tempted to surrender information of military value. They resisted all of Colonel Shomuth’s persuasions and kept their mouths shut.” He sighed at such stubbornness. “But some talked.”

  “A few are always willing to blab,” remarked Leeming.

  “Certain officers talked, including Cruiser Captain Tompass… Tompus…”

  “Thomas?”

  “Yes, that is the word.” Swivelling around in his chair, the Commandant pressed a wall-button. “This is the beamed interview unscrambled and recorded on tape.”

  A crackling hiss poured out of a perforated grid set in the wall. It grew louder, died down to a background wash. Voices came out of the grid.

  Shomuth: “Captain Thomas, I have been ordered to check certain information now in our possession. You have nothing to lose by giving answers, nothing to gain by refusing them. There are no Lathians present, only the two of us. You may speak freely and what you say will be treated in confidence.” Thomas: “Mighty leery about the Lathians all of a sudden, aren’t you? You won’t fool me with that gambit. Enemies are enemies no matter what their name or shape. Go trundle your hoop-you’ll get nothing out of me.”

  Shomuth, patiently: “I suggest, Captain Thomas, that you hear and consider the questions before you decide whether or not to answer them.”

  Thomas, boredly: “All right. What d’you want to know?”

  Shomuth: “Whether our Lathian allies really are Nuts.”

  Thomas, after a long pause: “You want the blunt truth?”

  Shomuth: “We do.”

  Thamas, with a trace of sarcasm; “I hate to speak against anyone behind his back, even a lousy Lathian But there are times when one is compelled to admit that dirt is dirt, sin is sin and a Lathian is what he is, eh?”

  Shomuth: “Please answer my question.”

  Thomas: “The Lathians are nuts.”

  Shoinuth: “And they have the Willies?”

  Thomas: “Say, where did you dig up this information?”

  Shomuth: “That is our business. Will you be good enough to give me an answer.”

  Thomas, belligerently: “Not only have they got the willies but they’ll have a darned sight more of them before we’re through.”

  Shomuth, puzzled: “How can that be? We have learned that each and every Lathian is unconsciously controlled by a Willy. Therefore the total number of Willies must be limited. It cannot be increased except by the birth of more Lathians.”

  Thomas, quickly: “You’ve got me wrong. What I meant was that as Lathian casualties mount up the number of unattached Willies will increase. Obviously even the best of Willies cannot control a corpse, can he? There will be lots more Willies loafing around in proportion to the number of Lathian survivors.”

  Shomuth: “Yes, I see what you mean. And it will create a psychic problem of great seriousness.” Pause. “Now, Captain Thomas, have you any reason to suppose that a large number of partnerless Willies might be able to seize control of another and different lifeform? Such as my own species, for example?”

  Thomas, with enough menace to deserve a space-medal: “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Shomuth: “You don’t know for sure?”

  Thomas: “No.”

  Shomuth: “It is true, is it not, that you are aware of the real Lathian nature only because you have been warned of it by your Eustace?”

  Thomas; startled: “By my what?”

  Shomuth: “By your. Eustace. Why should that surprise you?”

  Thomas, recovering swiftly enough to earn a bar to the medal: “I thought you said Useless. Silly of me. Yes, my Eustace. You’re dead right there.”

  Shomuth, in lower tones: “There are more than four hundred Terran prisoners here. That means more than four hundred Eustaces wandering around unchallenged on this planet. Correct?”

  Thomas: “I am unable to deny it.”

  Shomuth: “The Lathian heavy cruiser Veder crashed on landing and was a total loss. The Lathians attributed it to an error of judgment on the part of the
crew. But that was just three days after you prisoners were brought here. Was it a mere coincidence?”

  Thomas, scintillating: “Work it out for yourself.”

  Shomuth: “You realise that so far as we are concerned your refusal to reply is as good as an answer?”

  Thomas: “Construe it any way you like. I will not betray Terran military secrets.”

  Shomuth: “All right. Let me try you on something else. The biggest fuel dump in this part of the galaxy is located a few degrees south of here. A week ago it blew up to total destruction. The loss was a severe one; it will handicap the Combine fleets for quite a time to come.”

  Thomas, with enthusiasm: “Cheers!”

  Shomuth: “Lathian technicians theorise that a static spark caused a leaking tank to explode and that set off the rest in rapid succession. We can always trust technicians to come up with a glib explanation.”

  Thomas: “Well, what’s wrong with it?”

  Shomuth: “That dump has been established for more than four years. No static sparks have caused trouble during that time.”

  Thomas: “What are you getting at?”

  Shomuth, pointedly: “You have admitted yourself that more than four hundred Eustaces are roaming this area, free to do as they please.”

  Thomas, in tones of stern patriotism: I am admitting nothing. I refuse to answer any more questions.”

  Shomuth: “Has your Eustace prompted you to say that?”

  Silence.

  Shomuth: “If your Eustace is now present, can I question him through you?”

  No reply.

  Switching off, the Commandant said; “There you are. Eight other Terran officers gave more or less the same evidence. T he rest tried to conceal the facts but, as you have heard, they failed. Zangasta himself has listened to the taped records and is deeply concerned about the situation.”

  “He needn’t worry his head about it,” Leeming offered.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s all a lot of bunk, a put-up job. There was collusion between my Eustace and theirs.”

  The Commandant looked sour.” As you emphasised at our last meeting, there cannot be collusion without Eustaces, so it makes no difference either way.”

  “I’m glad you can see it at last.”

  “Let it pass,” chipped in Pallam impatiently. “It is of no consequence. The confirmatory evidence is adequate no matter how we look at it.”

  Thus prompted, the Commandant continued, “I have been doing some investigating myself. In two years we’ve had a long series of small-scale troubles with the Rigellians, none of them really serious, but after you arrive there comes a big break that obviously must have been planned long before you turned up but soon afterward took place in circumstances suggesting outside help. Whence came this assistance?”

  “Not telling,” said Leeming knowingly.

  “At one time or another eight of my guards earned your enmity, by assaulting you. Of these, four are now in hospital badly injured, two more are to be drafted to the fighting front. I presume that it is only a matter of time before the remaining two are plunged into trouble?”

  “The other two have arbitrated and earned forgiveness. Nothing will happen to them.”

  “Is that so?” The Commandant registered surprise.

  Leeming went on; “I cannot give the same guarantee with respect to the firing squad, the officer in charge of it or the higher-up who ordered that helpless prisoners be shot.”

  “We always execute prisoners who break out of jail. It is an old-established practice and a necessary deterrent.”

  “We always settle accounts with the executioners,” Leeming gave back. “It is an old-established practice and a necessary deterrent.”

  “By ‘we’ you mean you and your Eustace?” put in Pallam.

  “Yes.”

  “Why should your Eustace care? The victims were not Terrans. They were merely a bunch of obstreperous Rigellians.”

  “Rigellians are allies. And allies are friends. I feel bad about the cold-blooded, needless slaughtering of them. Eustace is very sensitive to my emotions.”

  “But not necessarily obedient to them?”

  “No:”

  “In fact,” pressed Pallam, determined to establish the point once and for all, “if there is any question of one being subordinate to the other, it is you who serves him.”

  “Most times, anyway,” conceded Leeming with the air of having a tooth pulled.

  “Well; it confirms what you’ve already told us.” Pallam gave a thin smile. “The chief difference between Terrans and Lathians is that you know you’re controlled whereas the Lathians are ignorant of their own status.”

  “We are not controlled consciously or unconsciously,” Leeming insisted. “We exist in mutual partnership the same as you do with your wife. Sometimes she gives way to you, other times you give way to her. Neither of you bother to estimate who has given way the most in any specific period and neither of you insists that a perfect balance must be maintained. That’s how it is. And it’s mastery by neither party “I wouldn’t know, never having been mated.” Pallam turned to the Commandant. “Carry on.”

  “As probably you are aware by now, this planet has been set aside as the Combine’s main penal world,” informed the Commandant. “Already we hold a large number of prisoners; mainly Rigellian.”

  “What of it?”

  “There are more to come. Two thousand Centaurians and six hundred Thetans are due to arrive and fill a new jail next week: Combine forces will transfer more enemy life-forms as soon as we have accommodation ready for them and ships are available. He eyed the other speculatively. “It is only a matter of time before they start dumping Terrans on us as well.”

  “Is the prospect bothering you?”

  “Zangasta has decided that he must refuse to accept Terrans.”

  “That’s up to him,” said Leeming, blandly indifferent.

  “Zangasta has a clever mind,” opined the Commandant oozing patriotic admiration. “He is of the firm opinion that to assemble a formidable army of mixed prisoners all on one’ planet, and then add some thousands of Terrans to the mixture, is to create a potentially dangerous situation. He foresees trouble on a scale vaster than we could handle. Indeed, we might lose control of this world, strategically placed in the Combine’s rear, and become subject to the violent attacks of our own allies.”

  “That is quite possible,” Leeming agreed. “In fact it’s quite probable. In fact it’s practically certain. But it’s not Zangasta’s only worry. It’s the one he’s seen fit to put out for publication. He’s got a private one too.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Zangasta himself originated the order that escaped prisoners be shot. He must have done so—otherwise nobody would dare shoot them. Now he’s jumpy because a Eustace may be sitting on his bed and grinning at him every night. He thinks that a few thousand Eustaces will be a proportionately greater menace to him. But he’s wrong.”

  “Why is he wrong?” inquired the Commandant.

  “Because it isn’t only the repentant who have no cause to fear. The dead haven’t either. The arrival on this world of fifty million Eustaces means nothing whatever to a corpse. Zangasta had better countermand that shooting order if he wants to go on living.”

  “I’ll inform him of your remarks. However, such cancellation may not be necessary. As I have told you, he is clever. He has devised s subtle strategy that will put all your evidence to the final, conclusive test and at the same time may solve his problems to his own satisfaction.”

  Feeling vague alarm, Leeming asked, “Am I permitted to know what he intends to do?”

  “He has given instructions that you be told. And already he has swung into action.” The Commandant waited for the sake of effect then finished, “He has beamed the Allies, a proposal to exchange prisoners.”

  Leeming. fidgeted around in his seat. Ye gods, the plot was thickening with a vengeance. From the very beginning his so
le purpose had been to talk himself out of jail and into some other situation more favourable for sudden departure at high speed. He’d been trying to lift himself over the wall with his tongue. Now they were taking his story and plastering it ail over the galaxy. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!

  “What is more,” the Commandant went on, “the Allies have notified us of their acceptance providing we exchange rank for rank. That is to say, captains for captains, navigators for navigators and so forth.”

  “That’s reasonable.”

  “Zangasta,” said the Commandant, grinning like a hungry wolf, “has agreed in his turn—providing that the Allies take Terran prisoners first and make exchange on a basis of two for one. He is now awaiting their reply.”

  “Two for one?” echoed Leeming, blinking. “You mean he wants them to release two of their prisoners for every Terran they get back?”

  “No, no, of course not.” He increased the grin and exposed the roots of his teeth. “They must return two Combine troopers for each Terran and his Eustace that we hand back. That is two for two and perfectly fair, is it not?”

  “It’s not for me to say.” Leeming swallowed hard. “The Allies are the judges.”

  “Until a reply arrives and mutual agreement has been achieved, Zangasta wishes you to have better treatment. You will be transferred to the officers’ quarters outside the walls, you will share their meals and be allowed to go walks in the country. Temporarily you will be treated as a non-combatant and you’ll be very comfortable. It is necessary that you give me your parole not to try to escape.”

  Holy smoke, this was another stinker. The entire fiction was shaped toward ultimate escape. He couldn’t abandon it now. Neither was he willing to give his word of honour with the cynical intention of breaking it.

  “Parole refused,” he said firmly.

  The Commandant was incredulous. “Surely you do not mean that?”

  “I do. I have no choice. Terran military law does not permit a prisoner-of-war to give such a promise.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because no Terran can accept responsibility for his Eustace. How can I swear not tb get out when half of me cannot be got in? Can a twin take oath on behalf of his brother?”