Harvest of Stars

by Poul Anderson

  What a mierda background for breakfast, Kyra thought. Nonetheless she tucked the food away. No telling when her next chance would come. Lee picked at his. On the end of the table, Guthrie watched, armored in the impassivity of his box.

  “The company’s operations throughout this country are suspended. However, the official statement expressed hope that they can resume shortly. It declared that this move had, quote, ‘the full agreement of Fireball executives at the highest level,’ close quote. That comes as an added surprise, after many years of growing difficulties between the government and a number of giant international firms, especially Fireball.”

  Especially indeed, Kyra thought. Without Guthrie’s lead, which must have included plenty of hidden pressure and connivance, the others would long since have truckled.

  His mutter chilled her: “That settles it. They have definitely got my duplicate and they’ve worked him over. Poor bastard.”

  Lee raised his head. “Won’t your officers suspect?” he asked.

  “They may,” Guthrie answered, “though only two of my people besides me now know where he was, and they’ve no reason thus far to think he isn’t there yet. I didn’t myself, remember, till too late. If and when anti-Guthrie comes out into the open, he’s going to be almighty convincing.”

  “—speaking from the Directive Office, President Manuel Escobedo Corrigan.”

  The image that appeared in the screen was handsome, silver-haired, sonorous. “Citizens, attention! I have an important announcement. First let me make clear that there is no cause for alarm. Acting in your best interests, your government is taking measures against a danger to your very lives. In the course of doing so, we will terminate a conflict that has become intolerable. Few persons will be directly affected, except that society will benefit enormously. Meanwhile, all are entitled to information. Listen carefully. Hear the truth. False rumors may circulate. Properly instructed, you will be able to discredit them, denounce them, and report anyone who persists in them.

  “By the authority vested in me, and under the wise guidance of the Advisory Synod, I have ordered seizure of all possessions in this country of that company known as Fireball Enterprises. Suspicion has become certainty. Your Security Police have found that over the years, this whole vast organization has been infiltrated by Chaotic terrorists. Their end is nothing less than the violent overthrow of your government. Their means, if carried through, would bring millionfold deaths, nationwide devastation, and immeasurable suffering. We must forestall them. We must track down each last one of them, arrest him in his evil work, and bring him to rehabilitation—to justice.

  “You will recall the seeming accident that ruined the database in Midwestern Security Center with a powerful electromagnetic pulse. It would have gravely hampered police operations throughout that area. Fortunately, your Security Police had unearthed some clues in advance. They did not know precisely what was to happen, but as a precaution they transmitted duplicate files elsewhere. When the event struck, they were prompt to act. They found it was no accident, but sabotage. They found, as they already suspected, that employees of Fireball were among those responsible.”

  Kyra threw a glance at Guthrie. He saw and rumbled, “No, of course we had nothing to do with it. Don’t you suppose I’d make damn sure all our people in a screwed-up country like this, who might be in a position to do something unusual, were sane and sober? Why the hell should we pull such a stupid stunt, anyway? And how do you know the thing ever even happened? We had only the government’s word for it, and they brushed aside our offer to help investigate.”

  A manufactured excuse to enter and ransack the building in which the Sepo had learned that the other Guthrie lay—Kyra turned her attention back to Escobedo. “—cannot go into detail,” the president was saying. “Criminals and subversives must not be informed of our detective methods. But rest assured, my fellow citizens, when the task has been completed, you shall know the results.”

  He went quite solemn. “I must be frank with you. I will not, I may not hide from you that there will be many difficult, yes, dangerous moments in the near future. We are dealing with a huge and powerful organization that has always been hostile to the ideals of Avantism. Let me explain. Let me give you once again the background, though you be familiar with it, in order that I may then share with you the hope that stands bright before us.

  “During the past two centuries, Fireball Enterprises has grown until its operations span the Solar System, reach beyond, and at the same time probe into the vitals of every country on Earth. It is more than a spaceship line; its holdings include everything from extraterrestrial mines and manufacturing plants to planetside freight services, from scientific foundations to traders in luxury goods. It maintains whole communities under its own laws, raising generation after generation in primary devotion to itself, and deals with true governments on virtually equal terms. Yet it is not even a corporation, except in a purely technical sense. It is a private organization, tightly controlled, dedicated to profit but not above interference with politics, disdaining any national laws that inconvenience it.”

  Escobedo smiled. His tone mellowed. “Today, however, I am not denouncing Fireball as such. Instead, I am happy to say that a new order of things is beginning. We are near the end of troubles that have worsened ever since the Avantist Association took leadership of this great country. Mark well, I do not accuse Fireball’s directors of criminality, antisocial intent, or even nescience. Words on either side often grew heated. But analytically observed, as Xuan would have had us do, it was a conflict of world-views. If they do not agree that our restructuring of North American society is correct, if they do not share our billion-year vision of mind evolving toward the Omega, then it has been quite natural for them to obstruct.

  “And so, protected by the notorious Planetary Protocols, employees continued, also among us, to live in practically autonomous compounds, send their children to company schools for company indoctrination, and subject citizens whom they met to incorrect arguments. The Juneau rioting, which claimed thirty-seven lives, was only the most conspicuous consequence of this inflammation.”

  “Horse shit,” Guthrie muttered. “Alaskans remember better than most what it was like being free. They didn’t want a correction center built in their back yard, and somehow a rumor got started that the Russians would come over and join them.”

  “From abroad,” Escobedo declared, “high Fireball officials issued pronunciamentos hostile at best, incendiary at worst. The company embargoed sale within the Union of security-related materials. Again and again, employees helped fugitive subversives to escape abroad.”

  “A bit of truth there, for a change,” Guthrie remarked.

  “But I repeat, this was inevitable,” Escobedo said, almost compassionately. “It was like many a conflict in the past between opposing forces, equally sincere—Christians versus pagans, astronomers versus astrologers, democrats versus royalists, liberators versus imperialists.”

  His tone became stern again. “Now, as I told you, we have discovered that certain persons in the lower echelons of Fireball became so fanatically full of hatred that they entered into actual criminal conspiracy. They made contact with Chaotic terrorists who have long been waiting for a chance to strike deadly blows at you, the North American people. These individuals in Fireball aided and abetted the terrorists. They helped Chaotics get employment in the company, until today it is riddled with infiltration.

  “The danger this poses is obviously enormous. Fireball fills key positions in the economy of the Union, as it does in every country on Earth. Its potential power to commit sabotage is virtually unlimited. In our modern world, we all depend for our lives on a frighteningly vulnerable network of high-technology services, as well as materials and energy from space. Let any of this be disrupted, and we shall immediately stand on the brink of starvation, chaos, mass death. Ruthless enemies, desiring still quicker collapse, could wreck our transportation and communication faciliti
es here on the ground. The terrorists, armed and ready, would take mastery of the ruins.

  “This is why your government has occupied everything in our country that is Fireball’s. Were we able, we would have occupied everything everywhere. I have instructed North America’s representatives in the World Federation to call for action by the Peace Authority. For surely chaos in a nation as large as ours menaces the entire human species.”

  He smiled afresh. “Now for the good news. I said before that the directors of Fireball, and indeed most of its personnel, are not evil. Misguided, we know. Negativistic, selfish, greedy, yes, many among them—I do not say all. But they are not insane. They are not stupid. They realize full well how much they too would lose by a breakdown of order. They accept that the Chaotics are enemies not only of Avantist Xuanism, but of civilization as a whole. They were simply not aware of the extent to which these enemies have infected their own quasi-nation.

  “Once your Security Police had access to Fireball headquarters, they went to work. Brilliantly they used the most advanced investigative techniques. Piece by piece, they uncovered the basic truth. Much remains to be done, of course, but we now know what it is that we must do. When we had this information, we approached certain key leaders of Fireball, in deepest confidence. They were appalled. They agreed that full occupation was necessary. The Chaotics must be rooted out to the last cancerous cell. It is for the company’s health almost as much as for our own.

  “Citizens, I tell you that this development means more than immediate safety. It points toward an entire, positive future. I do not expect the officers of Fireball or of the other corporations that follow its lead—I do not expect them to embrace correct doctrine overnight. They will continue to pursue their self-interest, and the interest of their organizations, for a long time to come. However, I do believe they are starting to see that those interests are not really opposed to a rational ordering of society. I do look forward to an era of growing cooperation—”

  The voice went on. “Turn the sound off,” Guthrie said. “The rest will be duck-billed platitudes.”

  Kyra obeyed. She caught the idea, if not the figure of speech. “Yes, he’s just a figurehead, isn’t he? The whole government is.”

  “Not quite, but close enough for present purposes. Hm. Those North American execs of ours, Reynaldo, Langford, Rappaport—how many more?—what about them? I hope to Christ they’re all right.”

  “I shouldn’t think the Avantists would harm them, sir,” Lee said. “That would make needless antagonism. Probably several key persons are in ‘protective custody,’ but not otherwise abused, and that’s simply to keep them incommunicado. Then nobody can be sure whether some of them have in fact agreed that the occupation is right and necessary.”

  “How believable will that be, and for how long?” Kyra wondered. “Would any of them sit still and mum, given a choice?”

  “No,” Guthrie replied, “but the situation can be maintained for several days, after which the prisoners can be released and it won’t matter. Any little inconsistencies between their stories and Escobedo’s will be overlooked. Till then, Sayre’s gang needn’t expect too much trouble from those they’ve left free. The commonsensical thing for all consortes to do right now is sit tight and wait for word from me.”

  As if to confirm, the president’s message ended and a new image appeared. Kyra restored the sound and heard: “Dateline Quito. At Fireball’s general headquarters here, Director-at-large Dolores Almeida Candamo issued a statement calling this a most perturbing development. She had no other comment pending further information, except that she and her associates are in touch with other offices on Earth and in space. None of these have offered any comment either.”

  “Yeah,” Guthrie growled approvingly. “Sitting tight.”

  “—in the Assembly of the World Federation,” said the newscaster, “Colin Small of Caribbea responded to the North American call for Peace Authority intervention.”

  The image became that of a thin ebony man whose lip movements showed the English was his own: “With due respect for my distinguished friend from the Union, I submit that this request is not what it pretends to be. It is for propaganda purposes, and perhaps for the injury of Fireball. Nations are sovereign within their own borders while they observe the Covenant. Therefore the government of the North American Union can restrict any Peace Authority forces to whatever sites and actions it sees fit. Its allegations are vague and unproven. If it honestly wants help, let it bring formal charges of activity military, genocidal, harmful to the common environment, or unreasonably in hindrance of traffic or communications. Let such charges be examined by the appropriate committee, and found probable. Then world law enforcement can move against Fireball—or, conceivably, against the government of the North American Union. I do not expect either will happen. Legally, at least, this is a dispute between a national government and a private but international organization.”

  The scene changed to an economist, who answered questions put by the newscaster. Yes, North America depended on materials and energy from space; all Earth did. Yes, Fireball was the primary provider of these. Yes, if it halted service, the country would soon be seriously inconvenienced. No, there would not be famine or any such thing; the Federation and the Authority would see to that. Besides, the odds were against Fireball ever taking such a drastic measure. Remember, the cost to it would be incalculable, in lost revenues and, far more, in relationships with the rest of the world. It was more vulnerable than one might think. Remember, it was not really a nation, however arrogantly it behaved. It did not possess even the minimum peacekeeping armament to which a nation was entitled, let alone the arsenals of the Authority—Kyra, Lee, and Guthrie listened with less than half an ear.

  “Remarkable, so much,” Kyra said.

  “What do you mean?” Lee asked.

  “That official multiception would carry any part of Small’s speech. I’ve met him, at a space development conference. We talked, and went partying, and since then we’ve swapped occasional letters. He’s on our side.”

  “Bueno, he couldn’t come straight out and declare that, in his position, could he? I think the editor of this show is pretty smart. We’ve seen the exact snippet that conveys an impression of unbiased reporting.”

  “They’re good at that,” grumbled Guthrie. “Everybody in communications is. With the result that the average man has no way of telling what’s real and what’s come out of a studio.”

  “That’s not quite right, sir,” Lee argued. “The sheer volume of information, true as well as false—”

  “Yeah, that and international traffic, they do make a totalitarian state impossible to maintain in the long run, unless somehow it took over the whole Solar System. They’re what keep an idea of freedom alive here, and give Chaotics the hope they need if they aren’t going to give up and become Avantists themselves.”

  “Who are they?” Kyra asked. “I thought ‘Chaotic’ was just a government swear word for dissenters.”

  “Which they proudly adopted,” Guthrie said. “Mostly they’re harmless malcontents.”

  “But not all? Are some of them really terrorists waiting for a chance?”

  “That could be another swear word,” Guthrie replied.

  Kyra got a feeling he didn’t want to say more about this. “What do you expect Fireball will do, sir?”

  “I told you. Nothing much, immediately. Play close to the vest till more cards come down. Maybe with some local exceptions. We aren’t a monolith, you know.” A knock sounded. “Quick, stash me. In the pack, might as well.”

  His companions did, and admitted Tahir. The sheikh carried a bag stuffed full of fabric. His visage was drawn—Kyra guessed he had been up most of the night—but he stood straight, gave crisp greeting, and went directly to business.

  “Sepo are here, uniformed and, undoubtedly, in plain clothes. They walk the halls, although not yet these, and watch at every portal. They carry electronic equipment. Neverth
eless, insh’llah, I have made arrangements that should get you past them. Here are women’s clothes for you, Sr. Lee. Veiled and in my company, you ought not to be molested. The police will not wish to magnify their task by infuriating residents, especially those who are not entirely poor and powerless; and it is well known how we Believers feel about our women.” A crooked grin. “Of course, you must practice the gait and the manners. I will rehearse you until, when we go forth, passersby will wonder what this old scoundrel has been doing of late.”

  Lee reddened a bit. “Mil gracias, sir,” he said. “Uh, afy aleyk, el-afy.” He gestured at the pack where it lay. “But what about this? We’ve got to get it out. It’s more important than we are, by orders of magnitude.”

  “I have gathered that.” Tahir ran fingers through his beard and gazed beyond the walls around him. “I do not wish to know what it is. You have called it a special computer; let that suffice. I do know its size, and have made arrangements. At the proper time, an ambulance will arrive and the crew will bring a life support casket up to us. It has enough space to spare that you can place your … object inside while everyone else looks away. I trust it is fluid-proof.”

  Kyra drew a sharp breath. Vision sprang into her head, a coffinlike box, its crusting of containers, tubes, valves, pumps, meters, cables, computer, manual controls, and the engineering underneath. Yes, all that metal, all that electrical and chemical and isotopic activity, would for sure mask Guthrie from any detectors.

  “But won’t they check whether you’ve actually got a patient inside?” Lee fretted.

  “There will be one.” The fugitives saw bleakness. “A son of mine is willing to be drugged. The simulation of a comatose stroke victim will be quite good, even to encephalographic tracings. I do not expect the Sepo will call a physician to inspect closer.”