Way of the Pilgrim

by Matt

  "Are you sure you won't, Shane—?" said the Governor. The Governor's first name, Shane remembered, was Tom. All this use of given names on such short acquaintance made Shane uncomfortable. This was England, after all, where a certain amount of formality on first acquaintance certainly ought to be expected. He wondered if they were deliberately using first names because he was North American. He shook his head.

  "Just the three of us, then," said the Governor to the waiter, who went off.

  I suppose, thought Shane, I should call him Tom Aldwell in my own mind, rather than Governor, just to get used to doing it. He had been unable to bring himself to use the first names aloud, and so far had successfully avoided using any.

  "This is an important occasion, after all," Tom said to him in a tone that was almost confidential. "With you here, as far as I'm concerned, this—which is a human bit of business, really—is officially under way. I don't mean to downrate Laa Ehon's part in it, or any of the parts other aliens have contributed; but after all, in this, they're proposing to depend on us to do for them what they haven't been able to do successfully for themselves."

  "You might want to amend that and say, 'haven't been able to do to their satisfaction,' Tom," Rymer said. "We don't actually know they were in any kind of a bind and that that was what led to this program's being tried."

  "Oh, of course not," said Tom. "Nonetheless, it's the first time on record of their depending on humans—on the four of us right here, in particular."

  This was going a little too far.

  "You'd better make that the three of you," demurred Shane. "I'm only liaison—an observer for the First Captain."

  "No one doubts it! No one doubts it a moment!" cried Tom. "Still, you're human and a vital piece of the machinery, so I don't see how you can dodge at least part of the credit."

  The menus came and were studied. Wine was ordered. Shane allowed himself to be prevailed upon to take a second drink. He pulled the new glass in front of him, pushing aside his first, now half-empty glass of Scotch and water as if what was left in it was mainly melted ice; and the waiter obligingly carried it away.

  "Do you know London?" Rymer asked Shane somewhat later, as the meat course arrived and the second bottle of wine was opened. Whatever had been hoped for by the others in the effect of the drinks upon Shane, these were undeniably having an effect upon the rest of them. While none of them was very drunk, to Shane's more sober eye they had all relaxed considerably.

  "No," answered Shane. "I've been here more than a hundred times in the last two years, but it's always been a case of my going directly from the Aalaag courier ship that brought me to whatever Aalaag official I've got things to deliver to."

  "If you're going to come in regularly, we'll have to set you up in some place halfway decent," said Tom. "A good flat with service, or a suite in one of the better hotels. Where are you now?"

  Shane told them the name of his hotel.

  "Never heard of it," said Tom. "You, Walt? Jack? No, I thought not. We can do you a great deal better than that, I think."

  "Thanks, I think I'll stay where I am," said Shane. "As the rest of you know from working closely with the Aalaag, it pays people like us to be anonymous."

  This reference to the attitude of the general populace toward those who worked for the aliens caused a sudden, uncomfortable silence around the table. They were all in civilian clothes, including Shane and Rymer; Tom in a suit, the rest in the less formal jacket and slacks of everyday business wear. They had driven themselves here from their headquarters building, but they had been preceded and followed by two other cars, each filled with Interior Guardsmen also in civilian clothes but fully armed with the latest and best in easily portable weapons of human invention, which was all the Aalaag allowed them to carry. Further, Shane had no doubt that at least some of the other diners in the restaurant were also either members of the Interior Guard, or belonged to some London police service with whom the Governor Unit had connections.

  After a long moment, Tom broke the silence.

  "Crackpots are always with us," he said with something like a sigh. Shane felt a moment's ironic humor, imagining the reaction of Peter and the other Resistance members to the idea that they were 'crackpots.' "Wise to play safe, of course."

  That apparently settled the matter of Shane's housing. However, the attitude around the table had changed. The air of determined cheerfulness underlaid by an armed neutrality and watchfulness had returned. No, it was more than that now, thought Shane. In the mixture that confronted him now, in the attitudes of the other three was a combination of uneasy contempt and concern.

  He was far and away the youngest one at the table. Tom was close to fifty. Rymer might well be. The closest to Shane in age was Jack, who could be anywhere from his mid-thirties to his early forties. From the standpoint of age and experience, to say nothing of the fact that they were on their home ground and he was an intruder, they all tended to look down on him. At the same time, he came, from the First Captain, and his personal power over their fortunes was an unknown quantity.

  "Only trying to do the best for you we can, of course," said Rymer.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact," said Jack, unexpectedly taking the initiative, "what exactly is it you're going to want? The word came down from Laa Ehon through Mela Ky that you were to be given anything you asked for. But that's all we've had to go on. What, precisely, is your brief with this project of ours, Shane?"

  "Just to observe and report," answered Shane, in as casual a voice as he could manage.

  "Stand around the offices and watch—that sort of thing?" said Jack, who had suddenly become the spokesman for the rest of them. "How about reports, orders, written paperwork in general?"

  "Essentially," Shane said, "I'll want to look at everything." There was a short silence. "That goes pretty far," said Tom.

  "I'm afraid so. In fact, it goes anywhere I want it to go," said Shane, smiling at Tom to take some of the impact out of his words. "You have to remember this is all for the First Captain."

  Another short silence followed. He had confirmed their worst fears, he saw; and they were appalled. Not only their work, but they, themselves, were to be passed for judgment through the hands of this youngster at the table with them.

  "This doesn't mean—what does it mean?" demanded Jack.

  "Only," said Shane, looking from Tom back at him, "that the First Captain has a deep interest in this project."

  "In its success? Or in its failure?" said Rymer bluntly.

  "I don't know how any Aalaag thinks. Do you?" answered Shane. "But since the Project's being tried I assume all the aliens have an open mind about its chances and they all hope it works."

  The waiter came to see if any of their plates needed clearing away. He was allowed to take them all in a suddenly thoughtful pause in which no one seemed to have much to say.

  "Well, I can give you the background of the Project, of course," said Jack. "I mean I can give you all the hard copy on it you'd care for and I can also give you a quick rundown on it right now. Stop me if I'm telling you things you already know. But I believe Tom was contacted by the aliens on behalf of Laa Ehon about five months ago, through the alien Headquarters for these islands, to handle an executive position with regard to the supply of goods produced generally from this Area. That's about it in a nutshell, isn't it, Tom?"

  There was a grunt from the chair where Tom sat.

  "He was asked to supply a list of possible first assistants from which one could be picked for him. He did that—and the aliens chose me. Walter here was simply assigned to command the Interior Guard unit detailed to protect us. I don't think he has any idea why he was picked. Is that right, Walter?"

  "The aliens tell my commanders what but not why, when they want something; and my commanders very seldom tell me why, even when they know," said Rymer with a slightly sour smile. "In this case there was no explanation, only orders."

  "So you can see," said Jack, "we've all rather been con
scripted."

  "Not that I'm not enthusiastic about the idea," said Tom. "I really think that for the first time the aliens have come up with something that could have them and humans working together for the first time. But, as Jack says, we weren't so much asked as told."

  "Of course," said Shane. The distinction these three were making was a meaningless one as far as the Aalaag were concerned. No one ever stopped to ask a horse if he was agreeable to carrying a rider. At the same time, a new understanding came to him. He found himself appreciating more fully what it must mean to these essentially middle-aged men, raised and trained in a different sort of world entirely and conditioned by it, to be in the power of someone of his age and with his connection to Aalaag high authority. A moment's animosity on Shane's part—even a momentary blunder—and they had no way of knowing that Shane could be trusted not to blunder —and any one of the three could find themselves in very bad trouble with their alien masters.

  He realized now he had underestimated the basis of their fears. Their distrust of him and their apprehension that he might not understand could cause them to try to hide things from him and bring on the very trouble they were seeking to avoid. Not only that, but what he needed to do with them and their organization would depend upon their accepting some suggestions he would later be making; and in the present atmosphere, any such acceptance stood little chance.

  "In a way," he said, "I'm glad to hear that—" He was interrupted by the waiter handing out small booklets covered in what seemed to be midnight blue velvet, that turned out to list the dessert choices.

  "No dessert." He handed his booklet back to the waiter— and with a sudden impulse to improve the situation, added, "Just cognac, if you don't mind."

  "Excellent idea," said Tom heartily. "I get far too little exercise for all these rich desserts nowadays, anyway. I'll just have cognac, too."

  Jack and Rymer also took cognac.

  There were a few brief moments of self-congratulatory talk on their virtuousness in skipping dessert, a few more moments of discussion on the need for more frequent exercise, then the waiter appeared with four snifter glasses.

  "You were saying ...," said Rymer to Shane as the waiter left them alone again.

  Turning to face the other, Shane felt himself caught by the undeviating gaze of the dark brown eyes in the long-boned face. For the first time it struck him that Rymer could be a bad enemy. As commander of the local Interior Guard contingent, he had the people and the tools to do away with an unwelcome intruder quietly and effectively.

  It was true that Shane was a particularly valuable servant of the First Captain—more valuable, in fact, than the three here with him were ever likely to appreciate. But it was known to the Aalaag as well as to everyone else that things could happen to those humans who worked for them, as these went to and fro among their own race, where collaborators were not loved. The Aalaag mind, long untuned to crime among themselves, were normally content to let the Interior Guard investigate anything like the death of a human courier, and accept the explanation given by the Guard without question.

  In short, Shane's death could happen. It would be regrettable to Lyt Ahn, but probably not sufficiently so to trigger an investigation by the Aalaag with their own devices—which would otherwise inevitably uncover the truth. Most likely, it would simply be considered to have happened; and the only concern in the First Captain's mind would be how to replace a particularly useful and well-liked servant.

  "Oh," said Shane, twirling the stem of his glass between thumb and forefinger without lifting it from the table, "I was just saying I'm glad in a way to hear that you were drafted into this job, too."

  He could almost see the ears prick up about the table.

  "Drafted? You?" demanded Tom.

  "Essentially. You see, my actual job as a courier-translator keeps me on the go all the time. This is just an added duty. The less time it takes, the more I'm going to like it. If all of you were handpicked by the Aalaag, that makes them responsible, not you. It also relieves me of a good deal of responsibility, since I'm not here to report on the Aalaag concerned, only on the humans. I don't mean to suggest you can just sit back and think you can fail safely—"

  "Good God, who wants to fail!" burst out Tom. "We all want to see this work. We want it to be a galloping success!"

  "Of course," said Shane. "But I'm still glad to hear that responsibility is with the Aalaags. That being the situation, I can just ride along with things as they happen here. In fact, if all goes well, I may even find myself in the position of being able to drop you a useful hint from time to time on how the Project's being viewed by our masters; and maybe even suggest directions you might want to go in."

  He smiled at them again and sat back with his glass of cognac in hand. The other three had taken a moment to absorb what he had said. It was Tom who recovered most quickly.

  "That will make it easier for you, won't it?" he said. "A shame you don't share our enthusiasm for what this work could mean in human-alien relations, but maybe that'll come with time. We'll be very grateful for any information or opinions you can give us, naturally."

  It was a masterful job of covering up what Shane suspected was undiluted joy at their discovery that he had a minimum of interest in the Project and their personal actions. The other two spoke right behind Tom.

  "And we'll try to spare you as much of the nonsense as we can," drawled Rymer.

  "In fact," said Jack, "if you just let me know the sort of information you'll want for your reports, I may be able to have most of it ready and waiting for you, each time you get here."

  "That'll be good of you," said Shane.

  "Good? Not at all," said Jack. "It'll make it easier for me, too. What's the sort of matter you'll be wanting to know?"

  "I don't have a clear idea, just yet," answered Shane.

  He smiled at them once again. They had tasted the sugar coating. Now for the pill beneath it.

  "I won't have until I get an overall picture of the Project, as you've set it up," he said. "I'm required to know what's been planned so far and the backgrounds of everyone connected with it. You might start out tomorrow by giving me that much—say, a rundown in print of the way things are going to be done by you and your staff; together with all relevant statistics and personal dossiers—including your own, of course."

  "I'll be glad to do that," said Jack. "We can make you up a book with everything in it, first thing tomorrow—do you really want to wade through all those dossiers, though? The First Captain certainly can't be very interested in the backgrounds of mere humans."

  "He won't be," said Shane. "But he'll be expecting me to be interested, and to know everything there is to know in case he asks. Don't worry, I'll be spreading the cloak of professional confidentiality over everything I read."

  "Now, now," said Tom. "Of course we trust you to do the responsible thing. Let's all have another cognac, shall we? Walter, would you try catching that waiter's eye? You seem to be better at it than I am. Shane, forgive me for sounding like a worn-out record, but have you really thought this thing through—stopped to think of the marvelous things this project could lead to? It could lead eventually to what would amount to joint government of the world, by Aalaag and humans working together."

  "You think that, do you?" said Shane. The level of cognac in his glass had hardly been lowered, but he made no objection to having a second one ordered for him, and no one else at the table commented on the redundancy.

  "I'm sure of it." Tom leaned toward him earnestly. "Things would have to go well, of course; and you can't rule out the fact that conditions would have to play along with us—that's why it's excellent news to find someone like you working with us in this liaison position—but it could be the germ from which we grow a whole structure of worldwide government, perhaps overseen by the aliens, but effectively administered and operated by humans."

  "And all without that bloodshed advocated by those same people who'd hang us to a lamppost for coll
aborating with the aliens," put in Jack.

  There was an emotional sincerity in the voices of both men that caught Shane's attention. If they did not believe what they were saying, at least they had talked themselves into a passable imitation of belief in it. He had not, in fact, ever stopped to consider what Laa Ehon had suggested, except as a political move on the part of that Aalaag Commander, a move doomed to failure as governmental machinery where humans were concerned, but possibly of some use in advancing Laa Ehon's personal rank among the Aalaag. It would be ironic if, after all, this project did, indeed, offer some kind of a bloodless solution to the human-Aalaag situation on Earth.

  His immediate reaction, the result of all the experience he had gained by living closely with the First Captain and other Aalaag, was that anything like such a solution was far too simplistic to work. But what if he was wrong and there was something to Tom's idea?