The Dosadi Experiment c-2

by Frank Herbert

  Gar stared at him for a long period, then:

  "Yes.

  It was clear that Broey wanted a well-defined condition to develop, one which would provide clear predictions of the major consequences. He was prepared for this. When Broey understood the situation to his own satisfaction, he'd use his own undeniable powers to gain as much as possible during a period of upset.

  Gar broke the silence.

  "But if we've misunderstood Jedrik's intent -"

  "It helps us when the innocent suffer," Broey said, paraphrasing part of an old axiom which every Dosadi knew.

  Gar completed the thought for him.

  "But who's innocent?"

  Before Broey could respond, his screen came alight with the assembled faces of his Council, each face in its own little square. Broey conducted the conference quickly, allowing few interruptions. There were no house arrests, no direct accusations, but his words and manner divided them by species. When he was through, Gar imagined the scrambling which must be going on right then in Chu while the powerful assembled their defenses.

  Without knowing how he sensed this, Gar felt that this was exactly what Jedrik had wanted, and that it'd been a mistake for Broey to increase the tensions.

  After turning off the communicator, Broey sat back and addressed himself to Gar with great care.

  "Tria tells me that Jedrik cannot be found."

  "Didn't we expect that?"

  "Perhaps." Broey puffed his jowls. "What I don't understand is how a simple Liaitor could elude my people and Tria."

  "I think we've underestimated this Jedrik. What if she comes from . . ." His chin jerked ceilingward.

  Broey considered this. He'd been supervising the interrogation of Bahrank at a secure post deep in the Council Hills when the summons to headquarters had interrupted. The accumulating reports indicated a kind of trouble Chu had known at various times, but never at this magnitude. And Bahrank's information had been disappointing. He'd delivered this Rim infiltrator named McKie to such and such an address. (Security had been unable to check this in time because of the riots.) Bahrank's beliefs were obvious. And perhaps the Rimmers were trying to build their own city beyond the mountains. Broey thought this unlikely. His sources in the Rim had proved generally trustworthy and his special source was always trustworthy. Besides, such a venture would require gigantic stocks of food, all of it subject to exposure in the regular accounting. That, after all, was the Liaitor function, why he had . . . No, that was not probable. The Rim subsisted on the lowest of Chu's leavings and whatever could be wrested from Dosadi's poisonous soil. No . . . Bahrank was wrong. This McKie was peculiar, but in quite another way. And Jedrik must've known this before anyone else - except himself. The paramount question remained: who'd helped her?

  Broey sighed.

  "We have a long association, Gar. A person of your powers who has worked his way from the Rim through the Warrens . . ."

  Gar understood. He was being told that Broey looked upon him with active suspicion. There'd never been any real trust between them, but this was something else: nothing openly spoken, nothing direct or specific, but the meaning clear. It was not even sly; it was merely Dosadi.

  For a moment, Gar didn't know which way to turn. There'd always been this possibility in his relationship with Broey, but long acceptance had lulled Gar into a dangerous dependency. Tria had been his most valuable counter. He needed her now, but she had other, much more demanding, duties at this juncture.

  Gar realized now that he would have to precipitate his own plans, calling in all of the debts and dependencies which were his due. He was distracted by the sound of many people hurrying past in the outer hall. Presumably, things were coming to a head faster than expected.

  Gar stood up, stared vaguely out the windows at those dark shadows in the night which were the Rim cliffs. While waiting for Broey, Gar had watched darkness settle there, watched the spots of orange appear which were the Rim's cookfires. Gar knew those cookfires, knew the taste of the food which came from them, knew the flesh-dragging dullness which dominated existence out there. Did Broey expect him to flee back to that? Broey would be astonished at the alternatives open to Gar.

  "I will leave you now," Broey said. He arose and waddled from the room. What he meant was: "Don't be here when I return."

  Gar continued to stare out the windows. He seemed lost in angry reverie. Why hadn't Tria reported yet? One of Broey's Gowachin aides came in, fussed over papers on a corner table.

  It was actually no more than five minutes that Gar remained standing thus. He shook himself presently, turned, and let himself out of the room.

  Scarcely had he set foot in the outer passage than a troop of Broey's Gowachin shouldered their way past him into the conference room. They'd been waiting for him to leave.

  Angry with himself for what he knew he must do, Gar turned left, strode down the hall to the room where he knew he'd find Broey. Three Gowachin wearing Security brassards followed him, but did not interfere. Two more Gowachin guarded Broey's door, but they hesitated to stop him. Gar's power had been felt here too long. And Broey, not expecting Gar to follow, had failed to issue specific orders. Gar counted on this.

  Broey, instructing a group of Gowachin aides, stood over a table cluttered with charts. Yellow light from fixtures directly overhead played shifting shadows on the charts as the aides bent over the table and made notes. Broey broke off at the intrusion, his surprise obvious.

  Gar spoke before Broey could order him removed.

  "You still need me to keep you from making the worst mistake of your life."

  Broey straightened, did not speak, but the invitation for Gar to continue was there.

  "Jedrik's playing you like a fine instrument. You're doing precisely what she wants you to do."

  Broey's cheeks puffed. The shrug angered Gar.

  "When I first came here, Broey, I took certain precautions to insure my continued health should you ever consider violence against me."

  Again, Broey gave that maddening Gowachin shrug. This was all so mundane. Why else did this fool Human continue alive and at liberty?

  "You've never been able to discover what I did to insure myself against you," Gar said. "I have no addictions. I'm a prudent person and, naturally, have means of dying before your experts on pain could overcome my reason. I've done all of the things you might expect of me . . . and something more, something you now need desperately to know."

  "I have my own precautions, Gar."

  "Of course, and I admit I don't know what they are."

  "So what do you propose?"

  Gar gave a little laugh, not quite gloating.

  "You know my terms."

  Broey shook his head from side to side, an exquisitely Human gesture.

  "Share the rule? I'm astonished at you, Gar."

  "Your astonishment hasn't reached its limits. You don't know what I've really done."

  "Which is?"

  "Shall we retire to a more private place and discuss it?"

  Broey looked around at his aides, waved for them to leave.

  "We will talk here."

  Gar waited until he heard the door close behind him on the last of the departing aides.

  "You probably know about the death fanatics we've groomed in the Human enclaves."

  "We are prepared to deal with them."

  "Properly motivated, fanatics can keep great secrets, Broey."

  "No doubt. Are you now going to reveal such a secret?"

  "For years now, my fanatics have lived on reduced rations, preserving and exporting their surplus rations to the Rim. We have enough, megatons of food out there. With a whole planet in which to hide it, you'll never find it. City food, every bit of it and we will . . ."

  "Another city!"

  "More than that. Every weapon the city of Chu has, we have."

  Broey's ventricle lips went almost green with anger.

  "So you never really left the Rim?"

  "The Rim-born ca
nnot forget."

  "After all that Chu has done for you . . ."

  "I'm glad you didn't mention blasphemy."

  "But the Gods of the Veil gave us a mandate!"

  "Divide and rule, subdivide and rule even more powerfully, fragment and rule absolutely."

  "That's not what I meant." Broey breathed deeply several times to restore his calm. "One city and only one city. That is our mandate."

  "But the other city will be built."

  "Will it?"

  "We've dug in the factories to provide our own weapons and food. If you move against our people inside Chu, we'll come at you from the outside, shatter your walls and . . ."

  "What do you propose?"

  "Open cooperation for a separation of the species, one city for Gowachin, one for Human. What you do in Chu will be your own business then, but I'll tell you that we of the new city will rid ourselves of the DemoPol and its aristocracy."

  "You'd create another aristocracy?"

  "Perhaps. But my people will die for the vision of freedom we share. We no longer provide our bodies for Chu!"

  "So that's why your fanatics are all Rim-born."

  "I see that you don't yet understand, Broey. My people are not merely Rim-born; they are willing, even eager, to die for their vision."

  Broey considered this. It was a difficult concept for a Gowachin, whose Graluz guilt was always transformed into a profound respect for the survival drive. But he saw where Gar's words must lead, and he built an image in his mind of fleshly Human waves throwing themselves onto all opposition without inhibitions about pain, death, or survival in any respect. They might very well capture Chu. The idea that countless Rim immigrants lived within Chu's walls in readiness for such sacrifice filled him with deep disquiet. It required strong self-control to conceal this reaction. He did not for an instant doubt Gar's story. It was just the kind of thing this dry-fleshed Rimmer would do. But why was Gar revealing this now?

  "Did Jedrik order you to prepare me for . . ."

  "Jedrik isn't part of our plan. She complicates matters for us, but the kind of upset she's igniting is just the sort of thing we can exploit better than you."

  Broey weighed this with what he knew about Gar, found it valid as far as it went, but it still did not answer the basic question.

  "Why?"

  "I'm not ready to sacrifice my people," Gar said.

  That had the ring of partial truth. Gar had shown many times that he could make hard decisions. But numbered among his fanatic hordes there doubtless were certain skills he'd prefer not losing - not yet. Yes, that was the way Gar's mind worked. And Gar would know the profound respect for life which matured in a Gowachin breast after the weeding frenzy. Gowachin, too, could make bloody decisions, but the guilt . . . oh, the guilt . . . Gar counted on the guilt. Perhaps he counted too much.

  "Surely, you don't expect me to take an open and active part in your Rim city project?"

  "If not open, then passive."

  "And you insist on sharing the rule of Chu?"

  "For the interim."

  "Impossible!"

  "In substance if not in name."

  "You have been my advisor."

  "Will you precipitate violence between us with Jedrik standing there to pick up whatever she can gain from us?"

  "Ahhhhhh . . ." Broey nodded.

  So that was it! Gar was not part of this Jedrik thing. Gar was afraid of Jedrik, more afraid of her than he was of Broey. This gave Broey cause for caution. Gar was not easily made fearful. What did he know of this Jedrik that Broey did not know? But now there was a sufficient reason for compromise. The unanswered questions could be answered later.

  "You will continue as my chief advisor," Broey said.

  It was acceptable. Gar signified his consent by a curt nod.

  The compromise left an empty feeling in Broey's digestive nodes, though. Gar knew he'd been manipulated to reveal his fear of Jedrik. Gar could be certain that Broey would try to neutralize the Rim city project. But the magnitude of Gar's plotting went far beyond expectations, leaving too many unknowns. One could not make accurate decisions with insufficient data. Gar had given away information without receiving an equal exchange. That was not like Gar. Or was that a correct interpretation of what'd happened here? Broey knew he had to explore this, risking one piece of accurate information as bait.

  "There's been a recent increase of mystical experiences by Gowachin in the Warrens."

  "You know better than to try that religious nonsense on me!"

  Gar was actually angry.

  Broey concealed his amusement. Gar did not know then (or did not accept) that the God of the Veil sometimes created illusions in his flock, that God spoke truly to his anointed and would even answer some questions.

  Much had been revealed here, more than Gar suspected. Bahrank had been right. And Jedrik would know about Gar's Rim city. It was possible that Jedrik wanted Broey to know and had maneuvered Gar into revealing the plot. If Gar saw this, that would be enough to make him fearful.

  Why didn't the God reveal this to me? Broey wondered. Am I being tested?

  Yes, that had to be the answer, because there was one thing certain now:

  This time, I'll do what the God advises.

  ***

  People always devise their own justifications. Fixed and immovable Law merely provides a convenient structure within which to hang your justifications and the prejudices behind them. The only universally acceptable law for mortals would be one which fitted every justification. What obvious nonsense. Law must expose prejudice and question justification. Thus, Law must be flexible, must change to fit new demands. Otherwise, it becomes merely the justification of the powerful.

  - Gowachin Law (The BuSab Translation)

  It required a moment after Bahrank drove away for McKie to recover his sense of purpose. The buildings rose tall and massive over him, but through a quirk of this Warren's growth, an opening to the west allowed a spike of the silvery afternoon sunlight to slant into the narrow street. The light threw hard shadows on every object, accented the pressure of Human movement. McKie did not like the way people looked at him: as though everyone measured him for some private gain.

  Slowly, McKie pressed through the passing throng to the arched entry, observing all he could without seeming to do so. After all those years in BuSab, all of the training and experience which had qualified him for such a delicately powerful agency, he possessed superb knowledge of the ConSentiency's species. He drew on that knowledge now, sensing the powerful secrecy which governed these people. Unfortunately, his experience also was replete with knowledge of what species could do to species, not to mention what a species could do to itself. The Humans around him reminded him of nothing more than a mob about to explode.

  Moving with a constant readiness to defend himself, he went down a short flight of stairs into cool shadows where the foot traffic was lighter but the smells of rot and mold were more pronounced.

  Second door on the left.

  He went to the doorway to which Bahrank had directed him, peered into the opening: another stairway down. Somehow, this dismayed him. The picture of Chu growing in his mind was not at all what Aritch's people had drawn. Had they deliberately misled him? If so, why? Was it possible they really didn't understand their monster? The array of answers to his questions chilled him. What if a few of the observers sent here by Aritch's people had chosen to capitalize on whatever power Dosadi provided?

  In all of his career, McKie had never before come across a world so completely cut off from the rest of the universe. This planet was alone, without many of the amenities which graced the other ConSentient worlds: no common access to jumpdoors, no concourse of the known species, none of the refined pleasures nor the sophisticated traps which occupied the denizens of other worlds. Dosadi had developed its own ways. And the instructors on Tandaloor had returned time and again to that constant note of warning - that these lonely primitives would take over the ConSentienc
y if released upon the universe.

  "Nothing restrains them. Nothing."

  That was, perhaps, an overstatement. Some things did restrain the Dosadi physically. But they were not held back by the conventions or mores of the ConSentiency. Anything could be purchased here, any forbidden depravity which the imagination might conceive. This idea haunted McKie. He thought of this and of the countless substances to which many Dosadi were addicted. The power leverage such things gave to the unprincipled few was terrifying.

  He dared not pause here wrestling with his indecisions, though. McKie stepped into the stairwell with a boldness which he did not feel, following Bahrank's directions because he had no choice. The bottom landing was a wider space in deep shadows, one dim light on a black door. Two Humans dozed in chairs beside the door while a third squatted beside them with what appeared to be a crude projectile weapon in his hands.

  "Jedrik summoned me," McKie said.

  The guard with the weapon nodded for him to proceed.

  McKie made his way past them, glanced at the weapon: a length of pipe with a metal box at the back and a flat trigger atop the box held by the guard's thumb. McKie almost missed a step. The weapon was a dead-man bomb! Had to be. If that guard's thumb relaxed for any reason, the thing no doubt would explode and kill everyone in the stairwell. McKie glanced at the two sleepers. How could they sleep in such circumstances?

  The black door with its one dim light commanded his attention now. A strong smell of highly seasoned cooking dominated the other stinks here. McKie saw that it was a heavy door with a glittering spyeye at face level. The door opened at his approach. He stepped through into a large low room crowded - jammed! - with people seated on benches at trestle tables. There was barely room for passage between the benches. And everywhere that McKie looked he saw people spooning food into their mouths from small bowls. Waiters and waitresses hurried through the narrow spaces slapping down bowls and removing empties.

  The whole scene was presided over by a fat woman seated at a small desk on a platform at his left. She was positioned in such a way that she commanded the entry door, the entire room, and swinging doors at the side through which the serving people flowed back and forth. She was a monstrous woman and she sat her perch as though she had never been anywhere else. Indeed, it was easy for McKie to imagine that she could not move from her position. Her arms were bloated where they squeezed from the confines of short-sleeved green coveralls. Her ankles hung over her shoe tops in folds.