by James White
“I have received information,” Martin said when she had finished talking, “that very shortly meteorite activity will increase in this area by a factor of three. I cannot be more specific because of ignorance regarding your units of time. According to the instruments in the orbiting vessel…”
“This is hearsay,” Skorta broke in.
“True,” Martin said quickly. “But the instruments are being read by my life-mate who is, naturally, anxious that no harm befalls me.”
“Then I understand why you attach so much importance to this information,” the Teldin said, “but I cannot. It comes through a device of your life-mate, through another device to you and then to myself. There are too many possibilities for cumulative error between the fact and the reported fact for me to accept this information as other than hearsay.
“Since you believe that the Scourge from the sky will be heavier soon,” Skorta went on, “do you wish to return to the safety of your vessel now?”
In his other ear Beth was saying much the same thing in more forthright language, adding that there would be another time and another Teldin to talk to. But Martin wanted to go on talking to this one, and the intensity of the feeling surprised him.
“If I returned to my vessel,” he said, choosing his words with care, “I could leave you a device which would enable us to continue our conversation. But this would be unsatisfactory for two reasons. I would not be able to visit your city, and you would consider any such conversation as untrustworthy hearsay. If, however, you can assure me from your own personal experience that this road is adequately protected, I would go with you to the city and continue to converse with you face to face.”
The Teldin exhaled loudly and said, “Stranger, at last you are thinking like a Teldin.” Martin boarded the tricycle and the Teldin began to pedal. Soon the protective wall was slipping past at a respectable rate of speed. Without taking its attention from the road, Skorta added, “I can also assure you that you can speak to me face to face while addressing the back of my neck.”
Chapter 7
ON only two occasions did the Teldin move briefly to the unprotected side of the road to let oncoming vehicles through on the inside. Right of way, it seemed, depended on the pennant flying on the approaching vehicle and on the size and position of the ownership badges being worn by the occupants.
A flag and distinctively colored vehicle driven by a Teldin wearing a large emblem on a shoulder sash indicated that it was a slave of the lower order, a public utility worker or such. Badges worn on armbands signified a much higher grade of slave, and emblems worn on the wrist indicated a person in the highest level of the hierarchy of Teldin slavehood.
Their road had detoured to utilize the natural protection provided by a small hill when there was a sharp, crashing detonation followed by a diminishing, hissing roar. Martin’s eyes jerked upward in time to see a large meteor trace an incandescent line across the sky below the cloud base, and a moment later he felt the shock of impact transmitted through the solid, upsprung structure of the tricycle as it struck ground somewhere behind a nearby rise. Then suddenly the stony landscape beyond the outer edge of the road was covered by tiny explosions of rock dust.
“This must be the heavier Scourge you spoke of,” Skorta said. “The Masters warn of such events, but even they cannot be accurate in their predictions.”
“Why do they refer to the meteorites as the Scourge?”
Beth asked. “Do they equate all forms of danger and pain with strokes from a Master’s whip?”
Martin waited until a large vehicle flying what he now knew to be the pennant of the Master of Agriculture squeezed past on the outside, then asked the question.
“The Masters say,” the Teldin replied, turning its head briefly to look at him, “that it is a continuing reminder that we cannot fully trust anything that is not experienced directly except, of course, the words of a Master.”
“Are slaves, particularly high-ranking slaves like yourself, ever rewarded with your freedom?” Martin asked.
“We have freedom,” the Teldin replied.
“But the Masters tell you what to do and think,” Martin protested. “They alone have weapons. They alone administer punishment and have the power of life and death.”
“Naturally, they are the Masters.”
Martin knew that he was getting into a sensitive area, but he needed the answers. “Is the death penalty administered often? And which crimes merit it?”
“Sometimes the Masters execute each other for Masters’ reasons,” the Teldin said, slowing as the road curved sharply and continued into a deep ravine. “With slaves it rarely happens, and only if there is destruction of valuable Living property. For less serious crimes slaves may be reduced in status or forced to work in unprotected areas of the surface for a time, or if the offense is venial, the peacekeeping slaves deal with it.
“An alert Master served by trusted and observant slaves,” the Teldin added, “is able to stop trouble before it develops to the point where damage to property occurs.”
For a few seconds Martin tried to control his revulsion at the picture of the Teldin culture which was emerging. If Skorta’s Master received a full report of everything he had said to its slave, then his next question was foolhardy indeed, but it had to be asked.
“Do you ever feel dissatisfied with your status, Skorta, and wish you were a Master?”
“Have you gone mad?” Beth began, and broke off because the Teldin was speaking.
“There have been times when I would have liked to be a Master,” it replied, and made another one of its untranslatable noises, “but good sense prevailed.”
The floor of the ravine had begun to rise, and as it pedaled up the grade, Skorta had no breath to spare for speech, giving Beth the chance to express herself at length.
“You’re taking too many risks,” she said angrily. “My advice is to pull out as soon as you can. Some of the things you’ve said to Skorta could be construed as attempted subversion of a highly-placed slave, and the Masters won’t like that. Besides, with all the surface sensor material we’ve collected that is still awaiting processing, plus your interview with Skorta, we should have enough information for our assessment…”
The picture which was emerging was clear but not at all pleasant, she continued. Teldi was essentially a slave culture, with the vast majority of the planetary population serving an elitist group of Masters who might be numbered in the thousands, or perhaps even hundreds. Their control of the slave population was such that the slaves themselves, with their minor graduations of responsibility and status, were, as a group, happy with the situation, although individuals like Skorta might occasionally have their doubts. So happy were they with their role that the slaves did not want to become Masters and helped maintain themselves in slavery by betraying any fellow slaves who looked like making trouble, while at the same time believing implicitly everything told to them by the Masters, even when this information contradicted first-hand knowledge. History was also vetted by the Masters so that the slaves had no way of knowing if there had been better times.
But the worst aspect of all was that the Masters held the power of life and death over their slaves and were the only people on Teldi allowed to bear weapons.
Beth went on, “You know how the Federation feels about slavery, or any other form of physical or psychological coercion in government. They will not be favorably impressed with this culture. But it’s still possible that the slaves could qualify for cititzenship if we could find a way of separating them from their Masters.”
“It isn’t as simple as that,” Martin said, instinctively lowering his voice even though the translator was switched off. “This fanatical distrust they display toward everyone and everything that is not experienced firsthand worries me. Trust between intelligent species is one of the most important requirements for Federation citizenship.”
“That could change if the influence of the Masters was removed,” Beth said. “B
ut do you agree that the slaves must have the opportunity of deciding for themselves whether to leave this terrible world and join the Federation, or remain with their Masters? Our assessment, remember, should include recommended solutions to the problem here.”
“Let’s ask one of them now,” Martin said. Through the translator he went on. “Skorta, would you like to live on a world free of the Scourge, and where you could farm and build houses and travel on the surface without danger?”
“Stranger…” the Teldin began, and then fell silent for nearly a minute before it went on, “It is senseless and painful to consider such possibilities. The Masters disapprove of mental bad habits of this kind. They say that the Scourge is, and must be accepted.”
“Brainwashed!” Beth said disgustedly.
A few minutes later the ravine widened to become the head of a deep, fertile valley. Skorta pulled off the road and stopped to give Martin his first close look at a Teldin city.
The valley ran in a north-south direction and its heavily cultivated western slopes and bottomland were protected from the worst of the Scourge. Only when the meteorites slanted in from an angle of forty-five degrees or more, which they did very occasionally, was the city at risk. The city’s structures hugged the ground and varied in size from tiny, private dwellings with extensions underground to large buildings which spread themselves outward rather than upward. Regardless of size, every one of them had a thick, earth-banked west-facing wall, and what appeared to be important machinery and vehicles were housed inside deep slit trenches. Suddenly the Teldin pointed toward a high cliff further along the valley.
“That is my school,” it said.
There was a flat apron of crusted rock around the base of the cliff and a wide, cavernous opening which was obviously a vehicle entrance. His magnifier showed about fifty smaller openings, regular in shape, scattered across the cliff face.
“I would like to see inside,” Martin said.
The tricycle lurched across the verge and began picking up speed again.
“There aren’t many children about,” Martin said. “Are they at school? And the Masters, where do they live?”
Skorta overtook a structurally complex vehicle powered by four furiously pedaling Teldins before it replied. “If the children are to survive to adulthood they have much to learn from parents and teachers. And there are no Masters here. They live in the polar city, which is free from the worst of the Scourge, and only rarely do they visit our cities. We prefer it that way because the presence of a Master means grief for some and serious inconvenience for others. Believe me, stranger, while we are obliged to honor and obey our Masters, and we do, we much prefer them to leave us alone.”
“Why?” Martin asked. The other’s words had a distinctly insubordinate sound to them.
“They come only in response to reports of serious trouble,” the Teldin explained, breathing deeply between sentences because the road up to the school had steepened. “Not just to administer punishment but to extend or amend existing instructions regarding virtually everything. When a Master conies, the visit must not be wasted.
“It is a long, difficult, and dangerous journey for them,” the Teldin concluded, “and their lives are much too valuable to be risked without good reason.”
Martin had heard of absentee landlords in Earth’s history, but the concept of an absentee slavemaster was difficult to grasp, as was the idea of a slave society which seemed to be self-policing and largely self-governing. He could not understand why they remained slaves, why they did not rebel and start thinking as well as doing for themselves, or why they held their Masters, whose absence was infinitely preferable to their presence, in such high esteem.
The Masters, he thought, must be very potent individuals indeed. To complete the assessment he had to know more about them.
“Would the visit of a person from another world,” he said carefully, “be considered important enough to warrant the attention of a Master?”
“Watch it!” Beth said warningly.
“The visit of a slave from another world,” the Teldin corrected-without, however, answering the question.
The tricycle rumbled across the stony apron at the base of the cliff toward the vehicle entrance, and Martin saw that the tiny pupils of Skorta’s eyes had enlarged to four or five times their normal size. The dilation mechanism had to be a voluntary one because they were still several seconds away from the tunnel mouth. Plainly the Teldins had no trouble seeing in the dark. He adjusted his image enhancer.
Patches of luminous vegetation coated the tunnel walls, and at frequent intervals he could see short tunnels opening into artificial caves containing machinery whose purpose was not clear to him. Skorta told him that important and irreplaceable machines were housed in these caves to protect them from the Scourge, and that metal was scarce on Teldi.
The Teldi guided its tricycle into one of the caves and they dismounted.
“I realize that to a stranger like yourself this is hearsay,” Skorta said, “but it is widely held to be a fact that this school is the most efficient teaching establishment on the whole planet. The Masters of Transport, Agriculture, Communications, Education, and other associated Masterships send their slaves here, often from pre-puberty, and when they leave they are most valuable pieces of property indeed.”
Martin hastily revised his estimate of the Teldin’s status. It was closer to being a university lecturer than a schoolteacher, he thought, and asked, “What is your position in the establishment?”
“The position is largely administrative,” Skorta replied as it led Martin into a narrow tunnel which climbed steeply. “I am the senior teaching slave in charge. We are going to my quarters…”
He made another revision, from lecturer to Dean of Studies.
“Later, if you are agreeable,” it went on, “I would like you to meet some of the students. But there is a serious risk involved…”
“The students are unruly?”
“No, stranger,” the Teldin said. “The risk is mine in that the slave of another Master might report your presence before I did so. There is also the matter of your accommodation, should you wish to remain here for a time.”
“Thank you, I would like to…” Martin began, when Beth’s voice broke in.
“You can’t just move in like a visiting lecturer,” she said, “There are problems.”
“There are problems,” Skorta repeated unknowingly, “regarding your life processes, particularly food intake and waste elimination. It is a unique problem for us. There is no knowledge nor even the wildest or most speculative hearsay regarding the possible effects of off-planet diseases on the Teldin species, or the effectiveness of our disinfectants on your wastes. This aspect of your visit has only just occurred to me. It is a serious matter which requires consultation with our senior medical slaves. So serious, in fact, that they will be duty-bound to refer the matter to the Master of Medicine.”
The Teldin guided him into a large, cliff-face cave containing an enormous, high desk, chairs on the same massive scale, and walls covered by the luminous vegetation between gaps in the bookshelves. Martin had time to notice that the books were retained in place by heavy wooden bars padlocked at both ends.
Since the discussion about alien diseases, Skorta had been keeping its distance while still asking an awful lot of questions. Plainly the risk of a possible off-world infection was evenly balanced by its curiosity, and it was time he put the Teldin’s mind at rest.
He said, “Your offer of accommodation is appreciated, but rather than cause discomfort to both of us I would prefer to spend some time every day in my own vessel. May I have permission to move it to the fiat area in front of the school so that I can spend as much time here as possible?
“And the Master of Medicine has no cause for concern,” he went on before the other could reply, “since off-world pathogens will not effect Teldins, nor will Teldin diseases be transmissible to the many hundreds of different species who inhabit the G
alaxy. That is…”
“Hearsay!” the Teldin broke in.
“Naturally,” Martin went on, “I have not visited all of these worlds, but I have lived for a time on three of them without contracting any other-species diseases.”
He was bending the truth slightly because one of the three was Teldi itself. The others had been Formalhaut Three and the single, lifeless plant which circled the Black Diamond at the galactic center.
“It is still hearsay, but I am greatly reassured,” the Teldin said. “And your vessel will arouse less comment outside our school than in any other part of the city.”
“Thank you,” Martin said. “If a problem arises suddenly, as it may have done today had I been a disease-carrier, how do the Masters learn of it?”
The Teldin pointed to a recess which contained a table, chair and shelves lined with what could only be Leyden cells. The batteries were wired in series to a collection of table-mounted radio equipment with which the legendary Marconi would have felt instantly at home. Skorta was giving him a rundown on the Teldin equivalent of the Morse code when Martin interrupted quietly.
“This is a mechanism. It transmits and receives information over a great distance, not face to face. Surely this is hearsay, and forbidden?”
The Teldin gestured toward the barred bookshelves and said, “That, too, is hearsay, but some of us are allowed to read it.”
“You confuse me,” Martin said.
“The volumes contain hearsay which is a transcription of much older hearsay,” the Teldin explained, “selected by the Masters for study by only the highest-level slaves, slaves who are able to assimilate the material without mental suffering caused by disaffection with their present circumstances, or thoughts of what might have been had the Scourge not come upon us. Ignorance makes it easier to accept the inevitable.”
“Are you saying,” Martin asked harshly, “that the majority of the slaves are kept in ignorance?”
“I’m saying that they’re happier in their ignorance,” Skorta replied. “This hearsay material is not kept from them entirely. But it must be earned piece by piece, as a reward for physical and mental effort.”