"You expected to find total anarchy, but when you got here you found the Republic," Gwen said. We'd worked out a compromise the night before, after I explained my perceptions to her. It was good politics to let the head Expansionist handle some of the questions—besides, she'd filled in a few of the gaps in my reasoning. "That changed your plans."
"Statement of fact," Dzhaz said. "Many known cases of planet-wide social disintegration in galaxy. Approximately one half never recover. Of successful half, recovery normally begins only after hundreds or thousands of local years. Full recovery process requires similar time frame."
"We're the exception to the rule," Gwen stated with pride. "And you want us to tell you what makes us so special."
"Partial statement of fact. Improbable, natives understand factors behind own success. You lack training, experience in academic matter. Best chance of success, conceal true motive of investigation, learn answers through indirect approach."
I nodded. There'd been nothing sinister in that; far from it. "It's a basic law of any science," I said. "The process of observation changes whatever you observe. You couldn't risk losing what you might learn here."
"Statement of fact." That had become a litany, confirming my hunches. "We do not know many things. Extreme importance, things we may learn from you—"
There was a sudden upset among the barbarians. The sergeants-at-arms waded in and pulled them apart. Two of Weyler's advisors had taken him and shoved him to the floor. "How can anything be unknown to the Dark Gods?" one demanded.
"Fact, we are like humans." I don't think Dzhaz was addressing the savages. None of the Aliens had ever shown any interest in them. "All sentient species share many traits, fact which makes studies useful. Gamble, can uncover your secret, apply to galactic culture, prevent total disintegration. Alternative, social disintegration on galactic scale, all habited planets and artificial worlds to experience your conditions or worse."
The Alien turned slowly on its three feet, and I had the impression it was sizing up the audience in the amphitheater. "Probability of success low. Evident that your success product of mental, emotional attitude, in itself product of unique conditions. Unlikely to reproduce attitude in other minds. Ultimate failure indicated."
A galaxy-wide Collapse was beyond my grasp. My concerns were closer to home. The Republic was in no danger from the Aliens—or the barbarians surrounding us. If the looks Weyler's men gave their "king" meant anything, the day of the warlords was over, at least in our corner of the world.
Then Gwen walked up to Dzhaz, something that wasn't in our script. I started to leave the podium; I was afraid she was going to say something vengeful, something that would upset everything. "So you need us to keep your own society from collapsing."
"Correct. Possibility, still time, opportunity to prevent disaster."
I was halfway down the steps when she spoke again. "We'll do what we can to help you."
I had not wanted to see this, but you can't duck your responsibilities, even when the thing you're responsible for is justice. I'd engineered Weyler's fall, and I had to be there at the end.
It had been two weeks since the meeting in the Forum, but things were already changing outside the Republic. The story was slowly percolating through the outlands: the Aliens came to the Republic for help. Their empire was falling apart. They expected the Republic to save them. In the Neutral Zone, the raids had stopped.
The story of Weyler's fall was spreading, too, and our outposts reported cautious overtures from the neighboring warlords and chieftains. They wanted to make arrangements with us, before their own people turned on them as well. We were ignoring their appeals.
Weyler's "castle" was a crude stone blockhouse, surrounded by a dry moat and abatis. Our rehabilitation team had pitched camp outside it, and was laying plans to bring twenty thousand ex-barbarians and freed slaves into the Republic. Meanwhile, the people made themselves ready to join us.
Gwen had come out to watch the ordeal. She had been rather subdued since the last Legislature session. "Their ship left yesterday," she said, after we finished breakfast in the camp mess.
"Yeah, I saw the shuttle go overhead. Did they say when they would return?"
"It won't be for two or three years, maybe longer. They can travel faster than light, but it's still a big galaxy."
"And we'll have a place in it."
"Along with the Aliens." Gwen looked bitter. "I didn't offer to help them because I forgive them."
"Gwen, you can't blame all of them because Scented Vine—"
"I blame them," she said. "Every time I looked at one of them, I saw my husband and children. We may have set ourselves up for the Collapse, but Stinking Weed's crew played a role in events. They were killers, too. Dzhaz never admitted any of that."
"Did you expect him to? He's a product of his society." I shook my head. "I doubt we can really help them."
"I don't care about that, Tad." She toyed with her coffee mug, turning it around and around on the mess hall table. "I made that offer for us. They need us to survive. If anything can prove to us, and the rest of the world, that we're coming out of the Collapse, it's that."
Gwen had a point. I had one, too, which I couldn't mention to her. One of the driving forces behind the Republic had always been our hatred of the Aliens, the feeling that they were to blame for everything. We were losing that now; it had been comforting, but illusions never last, and hate can be one of the worst illusions. It had kept us from seeing the realities behind the Collapse, and that blindness might have put us on the road to a second such disaster.
Even though I was glad we were shedding our hate, I could see the danger in losing part of our motivation. The belief that the Aliens had caused the Collapse had made it possible for us to think that there was nothing wrong with the human race, that we could recover from what had been done to us. Now we would have to take pride in what we were going to do.
There was a metallic clattering outside the camp, a sound like a garbage can being hit by stones. It was time for Weyler's end.
Many of his ex-subjects lined the path from the castle gate. Some of them had walked for days to get here, and they looked eager. Gwen and I climbed to the top of a hillock, where we could see the gauntlet Weyler would have to run.
Two of his warriors dragged Weyler through the gate. He was naked, and tied into a crude yoke. They pushed him down the road, and he stumbled along while the people reached out for him, laughing and cheering.
"It's something I suggested to the rehab team," Gwen said, seeing the confusion on my face. "They need something to rid themselves of Weyler's influences . . . but it had to be something that would break the cycle of killing."
"So you turned him into a scapegoat." A final paganism, I thought. By touching Weyler, they symbolically placed all their guilt on him, and drove it out into the wilderness.
"Executing him would have been too much like a human sacrifice," Gwen said. "Then I remembered hearing about scapegoats in Sunday school. It seemed fitting . . . and after all he's done, Tad, I want to see him suffer. This way, he can spend the rest of his life remembering what he's lost."
"What happens when he gets to the border?" I asked.
She shrugged. "I suppose he'll take refuge with another warlord. Let him; he'll never be a king again, but he'll remind the other chieftains of what's in store for them—and show their subjects what to do."
Gwen's vindictiveness made me uneasy, but I knew it wasn't her motive for punishing Weyler. Her punishment rendered him harmless, and it was fitting. After using people for so long, Weyler was being used to help fix the damage he'd done. There was justice in that.
Weyler followed the road, driven by his people, and vanished as the path curved behind a hill. The rehab team was already down among them, beginning the work of leading them out of their long night.
Editor's Introduction To:
The Quest
Rudyard Kipling
Those who lose battles may
yet win. Recall Lt. Colonel Oliver North . . .
The Quest
Rudyard Kipling
The Knight came home from the quest,
Muddied and sore he came.
Battered of shield and crest,
Bannerless, bruised, and lame.
Fighting we take no shame,
Better is man for a fall.
Merrily borne, the bugle-horn
Answered the warder's call:—
"Here is my lance to mend (Haro!),
Here is my horse to be shot;
Ay, they were strong, and the fight was long;
But I paid as good as I got!"
"Oh, dark and deep their van,
That marked my battle-cry.
I could not miss my man,
But I could not carry by:
Utterly whelmed was I,
Flung under, horse and all."
Merrily borne, the bugle-horn
Answered the warder's call!
"My wounds are noised abroad;
But theirs my foemen cloaked.
Ye see my broken sword—
But never the blades she broke;
Paying them stroke for stroke,
Good handsel over all."
Merrily borne, the bugle-horn
Answered the warder's call!
"My shame ye count and know.
Ye say the quest is vain.
Ye have not seen my foe.
Ye have not told his slain.
Surely he fights again, again;
But when ye prove his line,
There shall come to your aid my broken blade
In the last, lost fight of mine!
And here is my lance to mend (Haro!),
And here is my horse to be shot!
Ay, they were strong, and the fight was long;
But I paid as good as I got!
Haro!
I paid as good as I got!"
THE END
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Imperial Stars 3-The Crash of Empire
Table of Contents
The Crash of Empires
Jerry Pournelle
Editor's Introduction To:
Pebble Among The Stars
Gregory Benford
Pebble Among The Stars
Gregory Benford
Editor's Introduction To:
The Claw And The Clock
Christopher Anvil
The Claw And The Clock
Christopher Anvil
Editor's Introduction To:
The Only Thing We Learn
Cyril Kornbluth
The Only Thing We Learn
Cyril Kornbluth
Editor's Introduction To:
Remembering Vietnam
H. J. Kaplan
Remembering Vietnam
H. J. Kaplan
Editor's Introduction To:
Blessed Are The Meek
G. C. Edmondson
Blessed Are The Meek
G. C. Edmondson
Editor's Introduction To:
Limiting Factor
Theodore Cogswell
Limiting Factor
Theodore Cogswell
Editor's Introduction To:
Triage
William Walling
Triage
William Walling
Editor's Introduction To:
Hyperdemocracy
John W. Campbell, Jr.
Hyperdemocracy
John W. Campbell, Jr.
Editor's Introduction To:
Chain Reaction
Algis Budrys
Chain Reaction
Algis Budrys
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Editor's Introduction To:
Earthman's Burden
Morton Klass
Earthman's Burden
Morton Klass
Editor's Introduction To:
Blood Bank
Walter M. Miller, Jr.
Blood Bank
Walter M. Miller, Jr.
Editor's Introduction To:
Here, There Be Witches
Everett B. Cole
Here, There Be Witches
Everett B. Cole
Editor's Introduction To:
The Buzz Of Joy
Phillip C. Jennings
The Buzz Of Joy
Phillip C. Jennings
Editor's Introduction To:
Second Contact
W. R. Thompson
Second Contact
W. R. Thompson
Editor's Introduction To:
The Quest
Rudyard Kipling
The Quest
Rudyard Kipling
Imperial Stars 3-The Crash of Empire Page 42