Code Of The Lifemaker

by Hogan, James

  directly because there was no need to, they all sensed it. Whatever it was that

  had brought such an odd assortment of individuals together had responded as a

  common chord in all of them.

  "All I can say for now is to tell them to have faith and believe in us,"

  Zambendorf said. "The time is not ripe yet for us to do anything." Exactly what

  he could do, he had no idea; for once in his life he was at a loss to come up

  with anything more constructive.

  Fellburg talked to the terminal and juggled with the screen for a while.

  "Galileo thinks you sound too much like a priest," Abaquaan told Zambendorf.

  Zambendorf smiled faintly. If the Taloids could crack jokes, they'd be okay.

  "Tell them they are not second-class citizens, Joe," he said. "They should be

  proud of what they are, believe in themselves, and trade with Terrans only as

  equal partners."

  "Galileo's asking who's kidding who," Fellburg said, looking at the screen.

  "They want to know how they're supposed to come across as the equals of guys who

  can work miracles."

  "We are not gods. They must have confidence that they can learn," Zambendorf

  told him.

  "We can teach them to work miracles too?" Fellburg interpreted as the screen

  delivered the reply.

  "There isn't any such thing as a miracle," Zambendorf said. "When you know how

  to work a miracle, it ceases to be one. Miracles exist only in the minds of

  those who believe in them."

  "Galileo wants to know how the hell you know."

  "Oh," Zambendorf said. "You can assure him that I'm an expert on miracles."

  24

  THE POLICY DIRECTIVE FROM EARTH STATED IN EFFECT THAT the Genoese were asking

  for a welfare aid program to be initiated and sustained from a distance of

  nearly a billion miles away, which would bankrupt the Western world even if it

  were acceptable on principle. The suggestion was completely impractical as well

  as being unthinkable ideologically. Giraud and Lang returned to their

  negotiations and spent several more long, arduous sessions explaining to Arthur

  and his colleagues that the Taloids would have to start thinking from the outset

  in terms of paying their way and earning the benefits they hoped to get.

  Kleippur's understanding was that if the robeings cooperated, followed Lumian

  orders, and worked hard at taming the forests to produce the kinds of things

  that were evidently valued highly on Lumia, eventually they would acquire

  understanding. But, naturally, the benefits to the robeings could not be

  expected to materialize instantly—the Lumians had taken a long time to reach

  their current state of knowledge from a level comparable to Robia's. To

  Kleippur, the promise of salvation in the hereafter in return for patience,

  obedience, diligence, and sacrifice in the herenow sounded suspiciously

  familiar. Little further progress was made, and Kleippur began to feel that the

  Lumians were growing impatient.

  Then Lyokanor, the chief of Carthogian intelligence, reported that Skerilliane

  the Kroaxian spy, had reentered Carthogia in the company of a one-armed robeing

  tentatively identified as Horazzorgio, previously presumed killed in the

  Meracasine. Curious as to Kroaxian intentions, Kleippur ordered the pair to be

  watched but left unmolested. Unfortunately, the small group of soldiers

  shadowing them from the border lost contact when it was attacked by Waskorians.

  Later, Skerilliane was seen in the outskirts of Menassim not far from the Lumian

  dragon-camp, and again a short while afterward with a party of Lumians out in

  the forest. Before the Carthogians could do anything to prevent it, the two

  Kroaxians were seen being brought back to the camp by Lumian vehicles and

  admitted inside. The breakdown in surveillance over the spies at such a critical

  moment was galling, but nothing could be done about it. In an effort to keep

  himself aware as much as possible of what was taking place, Kleippur informed

  the Wearer of what had happened, at the same time describing the differences

  between Kroaxia and Carthogia, and explaining the recent history of the two

  states.

  Zambendorf wondered why nothing was being said officially about the contact that

  had been made with the two Taloids—dubbed James Bond and Lord Nelson by the

  Terrans, the team discovered—who had appeared from Genoa's enemy state, Padua.

  Then Joe Fellburg learned from Dave Crookes that their aid was being enlisted at

  Genoa Base to program the transmogrifier to respond to the Paduan version of

  Taloid speech as well as Genoese. A junior clerk on Giraud's staff confided to

  Abaquaan that plans were being made to suspend the discussions in Genoa, and

  that the political deputation was to descend to another part of the surface. The

  clerk didn't know the exact location of the proposed landing site, but Thelma

  found out from her dashing NASO captain that Bond and Nelson were to be flown

  secretly to somewhere near another Taloid city just under three hundred miles

  across the desert from Genoa, and sent to alert their rulers to the Terran

  presence. Arthur and Leonardo, who seemed to be the Genoese mapmaking and

  geographic expert, confirmed via Zambendorf's private line to Camelot that the

  city was Padua. Presumably, therefore, whatever had transpired between Giraud &

  Co. and the two Paduans had proved sufficiently interesting for Giraud to break

  off his negotiations with Arthur and begin again elsewhere.

  Giraud and the diplomats made three visits to Padua, landing each time at a

  remote spot to which the Paduan leaders traveled overland, presumably to keep

  the fact of the meetings secret from the general Paduan populace. At the same

  time no public announcement of these developments was made aboard the Orion; the

  bulletins and news updates continued to focus on the activities of the

  scientific teams in and around Genoa, who were left to carry on their work with

  no indication being given that the political leadership had, at least

  temporarily, pulled out.

  Zambendorf honored his promise to keep Arthur fully informed despite the further

  misgivings that the news he reported was bound to arouse among the Genoese. He

  wondered if he did it in a subconscious attempt to compensate for his inability

  to do anything else. Zambendorf was discovering that it was important to him to

  be able to show the Taloids something that might reassure them that their hopes

  and expectations of him were not misplaced. For the first time in his life he

  felt concerned that the powers which others attributed to him didn't exist; and

  what was so ironic was that, for the first time, those powers should be neither

  supernatural nor superhuman. Though he continued to display confidence and

  staunch optimism in the presence of the team, inwardly he had never felt so

  helpless and frustrated.

  Then he received a summons to meet with Leaherney, Giraud, and Caspar Lang in

  Globe I. His cooperation in treating the subject as confidential would be

  appreciated, the message said—evidently Lang was learning at last that ordering

  Zambendorf to do anything wasn't the best way to get results. Accordingly,

  Zambendorf reciprocated by keeping the matter to himself.
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  "We've decided to fill you in on some developments that happened only recently,"

  Daniel Leaherney said, stirring his coffee while seated in the private lounge

  adjoining the executive offices. "The fact is we found the Genoese to be

  obstinate and uncooperative, and suspended negotiations with them some time ago.

  We're exploring an alternative relationship with the Paduans, which is showing

  more promise."

  "Hmm. I see . . ." Zambendorf grunted noncommittally on the opposite side of the

  table, not seeing at all. He sipped from his own cup and looked up at

  Leaherney's solid, heavy-jowled face topped by steely gray, straight-combed

  hair. Since liftout from Earth orbit Leaherney had tended to avoid Zambendorf,

  leaving it to his subordinates, usually Caspar Lang, to handle communications;

  his sudden call for a face-to-face meeting, especially over a subject considered

  too sensitive to be made public knowledge, could only mean that he needed

  Zambendorf for something. None of the possibilities that had occurred to

  Zambendorf as to what that something might be had left him feeling particularly

  convinced, and his responses so far had been guarded but curious.

  "The Paduan outlook is more practical and takes better account of immediate

  realities," Leaherney said in answer to the unvoiced question written across

  Zambendorf's face. "The problem with the Genoese is that they insist on clinging

  to a totally unrealistic ideology which not only impedes their own chances of

  making any meaningful progress in the long term, but also is incompatible with

  our own policies and interests."

  In other words the Paduans might be persuaded to accept the deal that he had

  told Arthur to reject, Zambendorf thought to himself. He already knew from his

  conversations with Arthur and Galileo that the Terran goal was to recruit Taloid

  assistance in bringing portions of Titan's phenomenal industrial potential under

  directed control, and turning the moon into an organized mass-production

  facility capable of supplying Earth's needs on a scale that would dwarf the

  existing capacity of all its nations put together. Needless to say, whoever

  controlled such an operation would be worth billions and might well come to

  command incontestable political power on a truly global scale for the first time

  in history. But Zambendorf still couldn't see where he fitted into it all. He

  shifted his eyes to Giraud, who had been the spokesman in the recent talks with

  the Paduans, as he had been earlier with Arthur and the Genoese.

  Giraud, fair-skinned, with a high, rounded forehead, wide blue-gray eyes, and

  hair that was receding in the center and thinning on top, glanced at Leaherney

  for a moment, then said, "Paduan society seems to be dominated by religious

  dogma and beliefs to a far greater degree than the Genoese. At least, that's the

  way it looks right now."

  "By mystical notions of some kind, anyway," Zambendorf suggested. He had formed

  a similar impression of the Paduans from his conversations with Galileo. "Any

  interpretations we make at this stage are bound to contain a strong subjective

  element."

  "Well, whatever," Giraud said. "But using the analogy for now, power within the

  Paduan state seems to be divided between the clergy and a secular nobility. Our

  contact has been with the leading figure of the latter group—the king, if you

  will. We've named him Henry. He'd give a lot to be able to ditch the priests and

  run the state his own way."

  Zambendorf nodded slowly to himself as the first of the pieces fit together.

  Henry no doubt commanded large segments of the Taloid labor force that the

  Terrans wanted access to. "But the priests aren't going to go away so easily,"

  Zambendorf guessed.

  Giraud nodded. "They have a strong traditional hold over the population and can

  mobilize widespread support by playing on insecurities, fears, superstitions—all

  the usual things. They're not a force to be trifled with."

  "So what's the plan—to help Henry rid himself of the priests in return for

  plenty of Taloids to work the plantations?" Zambendorf asked, stopping just

  short of injecting an open sneer into his voice. Giraud hesitated. Zambendorf

  shifted his gaze back to Leaherney.

  Leaherney ran the tip of his tongue along his upper lip and frowned for a

  moment. "Shall we say, to assist in bringing about the replacement of the

  existing form of priesthood by an alternative system that Henry would have

  greater control over," he replied. "It would probably be a mistake to demolish

  the clergy completely. After all, it does have considerable merit as an

  established instrument of social control."

  "Er, I think Dan means as a temporary mechanism to preserve social order during

  the transition period to a more modern form of state," Giraud interjected

  hastily.

  "Of course," Leaherney said.

  Now Zambendorf was beginning to see where somebody like himself would fit in.

  "Does Henry have anyone in particular in mind to head up this new, tame

  priesthood that he wants to install?" he inquired.

  Giraud nodded. "But not anyone we've met. We haven't talked to any of the

  priests—only to Henry and some of his guys."

  "Hmm ... It wouldn't be the present High Priest, Bishop, Magician, or whatever's

  equivalent," Zambendorf said. "If someone like that stands to get demoted in a

  big way, the last thing Henry would want is to leave him with any power to do

  something about the grudge. Henry's best bet would be to get rid of him

  completely and replace him with someone from the lower ranks—someone who'd feel

  insecure after a big promotion and would always be Henry's man. But Henry sounds

  enough of a Machiavelli to know about things like that."

  "That's Henry's problem," Giraud said. "All we know is that he's got someone

  lined up. We call him Rasputin."

  Zambendorf leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers below his chin, and

  moved his eyes slowly from one to another of the three faces around him. "And of

  course, this Rasputin would have to pull off some pretty spectacular stunts to

  stand a chance of discrediting the present chief miracle-worker and taking over

  the job, wouldn't he," he said, making his voice casual. "He'd have to be

  convincing enough not only to impress the average Taloid-in-the-street, but also

  to convert enough of the priests over to his side too. Now, I wonder who'd be a

  good person to ask if you wanted to help someone work a few of the kinds of

  miracles that might do all that."

  Caspar Lang, who had been listening silently for some time, fidgeted in his

  chair and looked impatient. He was tiring of Zambendorf's roundabout way of

  talking, a method Zambendorf employed to give himself time to think. Now

  Zambendorf was going to launch into more of it by asking why he should be

  interested and what was in it for him. Then Giraud would get into his

  negotiating stride and start to spell out all the angles and benefits. Lang

  could see it coming. He didn't want to hear it all.

  "Look," he said, raising his face toward Zambendorf. "You're a good deceptionist

  and a top con artist—maybe the best in the business ..." He lifted a hand to


  forestall any objection that Zambendorf might have been about to make. "Let's

  not go off into any of that stuff about whether you're genuine or not. What

  we're talking about now is serious, okay . . ." Lang paused for a second, then

  continued. "Ever since you first appeared in Europe, you've been moving in one

  direction—upward, toward becoming the biggest of the big-time operators ever—

  bigger sensations, bigger crowds, bigger fame, bigger money. That's always been

  the ambition." Lang spread his hands briefly. "You're smart enough to have

  figured out for yourself that this whole business at Titan could mean—if it's

  handled properly—the end of the Soviet empire and a return of Western industry

  and commerce to a position of undisputed worldwide leadership, which means a lot

  of people would stand to get very rich. What's in it for you, Zambendorf, is

  that you can reserve yourself a place in the club—a very special club. Whatever

  you were aiming at before in life doesn't matter anymore. This is it—the

  bonanza; the real big time."

  "And how about the rest of the Taloids?" Zambendorf asked. "What happens to them

  in all this?"

  Giraud frowned and looked surprised. "Their situation would be no different from

  what it's always been ..."

  "Exploited by their own leaders," Zambendorf supplied. "Serfs in a feudal order

  that gives them no opportunity for development. Kept in ignorance deliberately

  and fed superstition because education would be incompatible with unquestioning

  obedience and the domination by fear upon which the system depends. Is that what

  you wish to perpetuate?"

  "What kind of talk is this?" Leaherney asked, sounding irritable suddenly.

  "Hell, they're only machines after all. You're making them sound almost human."

  Zambendorf stared down at his cup for a long time. That was the whole point—the

  Taloids were human. He didn't quite know how, but he could sense it every time

  he talked with them. The phrases that appeared on the transmogrifier screen

  might have been crude and semicoherent, but that was a reflection of a

  restricted communications medium, not of the beings at whom the communications

  were directed. The clumsy strings of words did not, and could not, convey the

  richness and depth of qualities, meanings, feelings, and perceptions which