When they reached the spot, John turned expectantly to Miriam.
“What is it?” he asked.
“What's in your pocket?” she demanded.
“What?"
“You shouldn't wear your jeans tight, like the Earthers, if you want to hide things in the pockets-I can see you've got something there. What is it?"
Reluctantly, he pulled out the communicator. She snatched it away and tossed it down the hillside.
“You can fetch it back later, if you want,” she told him.
“All right, then,” he said. “You've got your privacy, Ms. Humble; what is it you wanted to tell me?"
“The People of Heaven hired me to come and talk with you because they were pretty sure you'd talk to me, where you might not talk to one of their own people. I'm not saying I like what they're doing, but they're paying me enough to buy my own inn, if I want, so here I am."
“What is it?"
“I just want you to understand I'm not here on my own-I'd given up my revenge. I think you deserve this, but it's not my doing."
“What isn't your doing? Darn it, woman, will you get to the point?"
“They don't want you working for ITD any more; they want you to break up this Free Trade Federation if you can, but whether you do that or not, they want you to go away from here. They don't like having a native Godsworlder running things for ITD here-it's making ITD look good and the Heaveners look bad, especially when it's you, the man who fought the Earthers for so long. It makes it look like ITD belongs on Godsworld more than the Heaveners do."
“Maybe it does."
“I don't know, maybe it does-but that's not the point. Ms. Dawes wants you to stop working for ITD. She doesn't care what you do after that-her job offer is still open, she says, or you can just go home, or whatever, just stay away from ITD."
“Why should I? I don't owe her any favors!"
“She'll pay you."
“ITD is paying me, and they can match anything she can offer."
“All right, then; I was hoping it wouldn't go this far. Do you know what a videodrome is?"
“Of course-Mr. Blessing is thinking of building one here."
“Ms. Dawes has built one in the Citadel, and she's going to open it to the public tomorrow, free of charge. And if you're still in Savior's Grace, the first tape she'll have shown is the one of you and Tuesday Ikeya; she's had copies made, and one will go to every town in the protectorate. You'll be a laughingstock."
John stared at her silently for a long moment. “You think so?” he said at last.
“Of course! The great warrior, humbled by a mere woman!"
“I don't think that's how it'll look, Miriam. I think that if you hadn't seen that tape while you still hated me you'd know that."
Suddenly uncertain, Miriam asked, “What do you mean?"
“Think about it. The Earthers are planning to show Godsworlders an obscene tape-first off, how many do you think will actually watch it? How many of them will dare admit they watched it? Most places on Godsworld strong men still blanch when one of our saleswomen adjusts her collar; do you think they'll watch a tape of a perverted rape? And you think that if they do, after watching me and this naked slut of an Earthwoman, they'll think the worse of me but not of her?"
“No, but Tuesday isn't here any more; she doesn't matter."
“Doesn't she? Do you think that your ordinary Godsworlder will think that? He'll see an Earthwoman wallowing in decadent lust. Do you think he'll say, ‘oh, that's just this one pervert'? No, he'll say, ‘I knew those Earthers were bad!’”
“But John, they'll see you naked!"
“No, they won't; she didn't get my clothes off."
“No, I mean they'll see… see you!"
“They'll see a lot more of her, as I remember it."
She stared at him. “What kind of a man are you? You can stop the tape from being shown, and you won't? You don't care if half the population of the world watches you rutting like an animal?"
“No, actually-I don't care. I suppose I should, but it hardly even seems as if I'm the same person I was then. I was naive and ignorant, like most Godsworlders; I'm not any more."
“You're still a Godsworlder."
“Am I? I haven't attended services in months; the minister here doesn't like me, and I don't like him. I'm not a member of any tribe; the True Worders have disowned me. I live here in the Earther headquarters, like an Earther myself-I eat their foods and I use their furniture."
“You're still a Christian, with morals…"
“Am I? I'm not sure about that. Look, I followed the rules in my tribe for all of my life; I thought we had the one true path, God's intended way, and that anyone who lived differently was wrong, evil, lost-and that all those people would have to be miserable, suffering for their sins, that the only joy was to be found in Christ. Isn't that what you were taught?"
“Yes, of course!"
“Well, it's not true. The Earthers live just as they please, and they don't suffer for it. God doesn't punish them. They don't know Christ, but they're happy, happier than anyone I ever knew before they came. They're comfortable-not just physically, either, they're comfortable with each other and with themselves, most of them. They don't worry about sin. Maybe they'll all burn in hell, I don't know, but in this life they're better off than Godsworlders, and a lot of it is because they don't worry about things like sin and righteousness. I'm not going to worry about strangers watching that tape-if I ever had any reputation for chastity or dignity it doesn't matter any more. I am going to worry about going on with my work. I don't like Bechtel-Rand, and I don't like America Dawes. Let her show the tape; if things get too rough for me here on Godsworld I'll leave."
“What?"
“You heard me; if Bechtel-Rand makes me unwelcome on Godsworld there are plenty of other worlds out there."
“You mean leave Godsworld? But you can't! This is your home!"
“Is it? I don't think I have a home any more. Stephen Christ-is-Risen went somewhere else when the Heaveners ruined his home; I can do the same. Listen, Miriam-you tell America Dawes that she can run that tape if she wants, but I'm not leaving ITD, and it'll hurt her business more than it'll hurt mine. She must know that.” To himself, he added silently that Dawes must be desperate to make such a foolish attempt at blackmail.
Miriam stared at him. “They've corrupted you. I thought you were the great fighter who would never give in!"
John shrugged. “I'm still fighting-but for money, not for God."
“That's disgusting!"
“Is it? Look at it this way, Miriam; I haven't killed anybody since I left the Citadel, haven't ordered anyone to his death. No one from ITD ever raped anybody-except financially. Our conquests don't leave widows and orphans and burned villages; they leave a more comfortable life."
“A year ago you heard those same arguments and denounced them."
John shrugged. “I was wrong,” he said.
When Miriam had gone he sat in the rocky hollow for a moment staring at the sky and thinking.
Miriam was quite right; a year earlier he had been determined to wipe every trace of the Earthers off Godsworld, and now he was working with them, doing the best he could to expand ITD's influence, yet he wasn't aware of any great change in his thinking.
A year ago he had thought Tuesday Ikeya's empathy spike an unspeakable abomination; now he was working for a man equipped with an identical one, and other rewirings as well, and was not troubled by it.
Of course, Blessing never raped anyone, so far as he knew, but still, his attitude had changed.
The change, he decided, had been a gradual thing, the result of working, first as a common laborer in Savior's Grace, then as ITD's local expert. He had never done common labor before that; his family had always been wealthy, by Godsworld standards, and he had entered the army as a boy of fourteen. That had been dangerous, but always exciting. He had never really seen the grinding boredom and exhaustion most people liv
ed with. His stay in Savior's Grace had destroyed any ideas he had still held about the nobility of ordinary life on the old Godsworld. That old life was simple misery for most people, unending drudgery just to stay alive. His ancestors had been fools to give up Earther technology-even the less sophisticated technology of their time.
And working for ITD he had found the excitement of the military back in a new guise. Dawes had told him, when she spoke to him in her office those months ago, that he was not really interested in beliefs, but in using and expanding power, and she had been, he had to admit, quite right. He had hated the Heaveners for ruining his old life, destroying his position of power and privilege-but Earth had provided a replacement. He had refused the first one offered, by the Heaveners themselves, like a petulant child refusing a new puppy and demanding a dead one be brought back somehow-but he had brought ITD to Godsworld to punish Bechtel-Rand, and, worn down by his “puppyless” stay in Savior's Grace, he had taken what was offered.
He did not regret it at all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“So I was great, and increased more than all that were before me in Jerusalem: also my wisdom remained with me."-Ecclesiastes 2:9
****
By the local calendar it was Christmas Day, Anno Domini 2596, when the ship bearing news of Gamaliel Blessing's promotion set down at Savior's Grace. John watched the landing through his office window; he had been the first to lay claim to a window when the above-ground addition to ITD's headquarters was built, and had made sure he had a good view of the spaceport.
He already knew about the promotion; the ship had transmitted the news from orbit. What had not yet been mentioned was the name of the new planetary administrator. There were three possibilities, as he saw it; either himself, currently the director of planning for all Godsworld; Premosila Kim, director of sales; or someone aboard the ship, sent from Earth to take over.
He wanted the job badly. Premosila was very good at what she did, certainly, and had perhaps the best intuitive grasp of practical psychology he had ever seen, but he had doubts about her ability to handle the job's other aspects. And a stranger from Earth would not know Godsworld the way he did. He had done a good job, he knew, helping ITD fit into Godsworld better than Bechtel-Rand ever did-the old protectorate had added no clients for two years now, while the Free Trade Federation was everywhere on the planet. He deserved recognition for his work.
Besides, it was the only promotion open to him, and he had always wanted to be at the top of his profession.
He watched the freighter settling onto the concrete pavement-the old-line folks in Savior's Grace had put up a fuss about that pavement, but it allowed larger ships to land safely, and when it was explained that that meant lower prices, the old-line folks had been decisively outvoted.
He could stand the suspense no longer. “Get me a line to the ship,” he told the wall.
“ITD Vessel Clydesdale,” a woman's voice answered.
“This is John Mercy; can you tell me whether Mr. Blessing's replacement is aboard?"
There was a moment's hesitation before the woman answered, “Mr. Mercy, I'm just the pilot; they don't tell me what's going on, they just tell me where to put the ship. We have a company executive aboard, but I have no idea whether he's anybody's replacement."
“Oh."
“He'll be debarking in a minute; why don't you come ask him in person?"
“Thanks, I'll do that."
His duties did not ordinarily include meeting new arrivals, but this was a special case; he stood, slapped his belt to be sure his communicator was working, and headed for the field.
By the time he stepped out onto the concrete crates were unloading themselves, sliding out through the upper hatchways and neatly stacking themselves on the waiting cargo platform. Most of the goods would have to be transferred to other containers before sale-Godsworlders were still uncomfortable around machinery that needed no human direction, and besides, the crate's brains were worth reusing.
The lower passenger hatchway was open, and three people had emerged. Two of them were ordinary ship's personnel, come aground on their own business; the third was a silver-haired man in a bizarre dark gray jacket and matching pants of a cut John had never seen before.
“Hlo and j'sevyu,” John said, extending a hand, “Welcome to Godsworld."
“Hlo,” the stranger replied. “I'm Colin Szebenyi."
“John Mercy, director of planning."
“Ah! Good, good-glad to meet you."
“Mr. Seven-Ye…"
“Szebenyi."
“Szebenyi, yes. Mr. Szebenyi, I won't waste any time; why are you here? Are you Mr. Blessing's replacement?"
“Direct, aren't you? Is that the local custom, or is it just you?"
“A little of both.” John noticed that Szebenyi had not answered the question.
“Ah. Well, yes. I'm here to evaluate the situation; the development committee has given me free rein. If I think it's necessary, I have the authority to take over here and run things myself, but I don't plan to-and I don't want to, either. Does that ease your mind?"
John smiled. “Yes, it does. What can I do for you?"
“Take me to Blessing, first off."
Three hours later, as Christmas Day was fading with the setting of the sun into New Year's Eve, John, Blessing, Szebenyi, Premosila, and Kwam? were gathered around the table in Blessing's office.
“It looks good,” Szebenyi said.
“Thank you, sir,” Blessing replied.
“You've got an outlet within ten kilometers of every village on the planet that's not exclusive to Bechtel-Rand, is that right?"
“Yes, sir."
“You've got regular air freight running?"
“Yes."
“Stable currency?"
“Yes."
“You're buying foodstuffs, leather, this weird nearwood fungus, and plenty of handicrafts-anything else?"
“Not really, sir-Godsworld has no fossil fuels at all, since it's never had dense enough carboniferous life and has been geologically stable since before life really even got established. It's extremely poor in heavy metals and even some of the lighter ones. There's no established industry at all-the original colonists were mildly BTN, and with so little to work with…"
John interrupted, “What's BTN? I never heard that term."
“'Back-to-Nature',” Kwam? explained. “Anti-technology. It's a recurring problem on colony planets."
“Aren't any of the other native life-forms useful?"
“Not that we know of; there are no native fauna, only the fungoids-red plants, the locals call them. They aren't really fungus at all, they're a whole new category-but not a very useful one, except for nearwood. They're not biologically interactive with any terrestrial life, though in an emergency they can be eaten without ill effect. The nutritional value of the best of them is low, and the taste is like eating dirt."
John did not consider fungusmeat to be as bad as that, but said nothing.
“We'll want to put a biochemical research team on that all the same,” Szebenyi said. “Let's see… any chance of tourism?"
“I don't think so, sir-the native culture is pretty drab.” Blessing glanced at John, who made no objection. “About the only thing they ever did with real style was fight wars, and of course we put an end to that. They do have some very complex theology, which has produced interesting rituals-but interesting to anthropologists, not tourists. And really, sir, it's a pretty ugly planet. No trees, no real mountains, no beaches worth mentioning. We've had a few stockholders come around to look the place over, and every one of them got bored and left on the next ship out, so I don't think the place has any overwhelming attraction."
“All right,” Szebenyi said. “That's what I'd heard from the computers. Blessing, we've got a new post for you-ITD just got the contract to open Harwood's World, and you've been named as supervisor-assuming you want the job."
Blessing nodded, smiling.
; “For the rest of you, after looking things over here, I've decided to cut back operations on Godsworld. This place is a backwater-it's always going to be a backwater. We'll keep up what we've got, but any expansion would be a waste of money; we're already at the point of diminishing return on our investment, because there just isn't anything here.” He glanced at John, the only native Godsworlder in the room, but John simply stared back silently. He had long suspected that the profits to be made on Godsworld were limited. Even ITD couldn't make money from nothing.
“Mercy, you'll be taking over for Blessing for now; Kim, you'll be coming back to Earth as soon as you can get your operation here set up to run without you. Montez, you'll be taking over as second-in-command-use whatever title you like, we'll pay you the same in any case.” He stood up. “Any objections?"
No one spoke.
“Good. Mercy, I want to talk to you alone for a moment about what you'll be doing.” He motioned for John to follow.
John obeyed, and the two men left the room; they strode side by side down the upholstered hallway, neither one speaking.
Szebenyi led the way to John's office; by unspoken agreement neither man sat behind the desk, but instead each took one of the crude Godsworlder chairs John kept handy for visiting locals.
When both were settled, Szebenyi said, “Mercy, you've done good work here, despite your background."
John nodded. “Thank you,” he said.
“Of course, it's your home planet, and that gives you an advantage."
John nodded again.
“Have you ever considered moving on?"
John leaned back thoughtfully. “Can't say,” he said.
He had thought about leaving Godsworld, of course-particularly in those uncertain weeks when he still thought America Dawes might carry out her threat to show the tapes of Tuesday and himself publicly-but never very seriously. ITD had hired him for his knowledge of this one particular planet, after all-why would they move him elsewhere?
“Well, I'll tell you, the reason I wanted to talk to you alone is to let you consider something without having to listen to what anyone else thinks, because we want it to be entirely your own choice. We're putting you in charge of the operation here on Godsworld, and we're perfectly willing to leave you here running it for the rest of your life, if that's what you want. You can have the entire planet, if you want it-we have inside information that Bechtel-Rand has been losing money here and will be pulling out soon, so we'll have the whole place to ourselves. You're a native, so you can get away with a lot-you could pretty much set yourself up as a dictator and I don't think the CRA would care-I know ITD wouldn't. So that's one choice."
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