Collected Short Fiction, page 361
“I’m sorry that our meeting this afternoon has to be one of sorrow. I had been looking forward to a pleasant talk. But it’s not always possible to predict what lies ahead.”
“Death lay ahead for him who was killed,” the old priest said in the dry, high-pitched tone of voice that Devall knew implied anger and scorn.
The woman let out a sudden wild inflation, half a dozen wailing words jammed together so rapidly Devall could not translate them. “What did she say?” he asked Steber.
The interpreter flattened his palms together thoughtfully. “She’s the woman of the man who was killed. She was—demanding revenge,” he said in English.
Apparently the two young warriors were friends of the dead man. Devall’s eyes scanned the five hostile alien faces. “This is a highly regrettable incident,” he said in Markin. “But I trust it won’t affect the warm relationship between Earthman and Markin that has prevailed so far. This misunderstanding—”
“Blood must be atoned,” said the smaller and less impressively garbed of the two priests. He was probably the local priest, Devall thought, and he was probably happy to have his superior on hand to back him up.
The colonel flicked sweat from his forehead. “The young man who committed the act will certainly be disciplined. Of course you realize that a killing in self-defense cannot be regarded as murder, but I admit the young man did act unwisely and will suffer the consequences.” It didn’t sound too satisfying to Devall, and, indeed, the aliens hardly seemed impressed.
The high priest uttered two short, sharp syllables. They were not words in Devall’s vocabulary, and he looked over at Steber in appeal.
“He said Leonards was trespassing on sacred ground. He said the crime they’re angry about is not murder but blasphemy.”
Despite the heat, Devall felt a sudden chill. Not . . . murder? This is going to be complicated, he realized gloomily.
To the priest he said, “Does this change the essential nature of the case? He’ll still be punished by us for his action, which can’t be condoned.”
“You may punish him for murder, if you so choose,” the high priest said, speaking very slowly, so Devall would understand each word. The widow emitted some highly terrestrial-sounding sobs; the young men glowered stolidly. “Murder is not our concern,” the high priest went on. “He has taken life; life belongs to Them, and They withdraw it whenever They see fit, by whatever means They care to employ. But he has also desecrated a sacred flower on sacred ground. These are serious crimes, to us. Added to this he has shed the blood of a Guardian, on sacred ground. We ask you to turn him over to us for trial by a priestly Gourt on this double charge of blasphemy. Afterward, perhaps, you may try him by your own laws, for whichever one of them he has broken.”
For an instant all Devall saw was the old priest’s implacable leathery face; then he turned and caught the expression of whitefaced astonishment and dismay Steber displayed.
It took several seconds for the high priest’s words to sink in, and several more before Devall came to stunned realization of the implications. They want to try an Earthman, he thought numbly. By their own law. In their own court. And mete out their own punishment.
This had abruptly ceased being a mere local incident, an affair to clean up, note in the log, and forget. It was no longer a matter of simple reparations for the accidental killing of an alien.
Now, thought Devall dully, it was a matter of galactic importance. And he was the man who had to make all the decisions.
HE VISITED Leonards that evening, after the meal. By that time everyone in the camp knew what had happened, though Devall had ordered Steber to keep quiet about the alien demand to try Leonards themselves.
The boy looked up as Devall entered his room, and managed a soggy salute.
“At ease, Lieutenant.” Devall sat on the edge of Leonards’ bed and squinted up at him. “Son, you’re in very hot water now.”
“Sir, I—”
“I know. You didn’t mean to pluck leaves off the sacred bramble-bush, and you couldn’t help shooting down the native who attacked you. And if this business were as simple as all that, I’d reprimand you for hotheadedness and let it go at that. But—”
“But what, sir?”
Devall scowled and forced himself to face the boy squarely. “But the aliens want to try you themselves. They aren’t so much concerned with the murder as they are with your double act of blasphemy. That withered old high priest wants to take you before an ecclesiastical court.”
“You won’t allow that, of course, will you, Colonel?” Leonards seemed confident that such an unthinkable thing could never happen.
“I’m not so sure, Paul,” Devall said quietly, deliberately using the boy’s first name.
“What, sir?”
“This is evidently something very serious you’ve committed. That high priest is calling a priestly convocation to deal with you. They’ll be bade here to get you tomorrow at noon, he said.”
“But you wouldn’t turn me over to them, sir! After all, I was on duty; I had no knowledge of the offense I was committing. Why, it’s none of their business!”
“Make them see that,” Devall said flatly. “They’re aliens. They don’t understand Terran legal codes. They don’t want to hear about our laws; by theirs, you’ve blasphemed, and blasphemers must be punished. This is a law-abiding race on Markin. They’re an ethically advanced society, regardless of the fact that they’re not technologically advanced. Ethically they’re on the same plane we are.”
Leonards looked terribly pale. “You’ll turn me over to them?”
Devall shrugged. “I didn’t say that. But look at it from my position. I’m leader of a cultural and military mission. Our purpose is to live among these people, learn their ways, guide them as much as we can in our limited time here. We at least try to make a pretense of respecting their rights as individuals and as a species, you know.
“Well, now it’s squarely on the line. Are we friends living among them and helping them, or are we overlords grinding them under our thumbs?”
“Sir, I’d say that was an oversimplification,” Leonards remarked hesitantly.
“Maybe so. But the issue’s clear enough. If we turn them down, it means we’re setting up a gulf of superiority between Earth and these aliens, despite the big show we made about being brothers. And word will spread to other planets. We try to sound like friends, but our actions in the celebrated Leonards case reveal our true colors. We’re arrogant, imperialistic, patronizing, and—well, do you see?”
“So you’re going to turn me over to them for trial, then,” the boy said quietly.
Devall shook his head. He felt old, very old, at fifty. “I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet. If I turn you over, it’ll certainly set a dangerous precedent. And if I don’t—I’m not sure what will happen.” He shrugged. “I’m going to refer the case back to Earth. It isn’t my decision to make.”
BUT it was his decision to make, he thought, as he left the boy’s quarters and headed stifflegged toward the communications shack. He was on the spot, and only he could judge the complex of factors that controlled the case. Earth would almost certainly pass the buck back to him.
He was grateful for one thing, though: at least Leonards hadn’t made an appeal to him on family grounds. That was cause for pride, and some relief. The fact that the boy was his nephew was something he’d have to blot rigorously from his mind until all this was over.
The signalman was busy in the back of the shack, bent over a crowded worktable. Devall waited a moment, cleared his throat gently, and said, “Mr. Rory?”
Rory turned. “Yes, Colonel?”
“Put through a subradio solido to Earth for me, immediately. To Director Thornton at the E-T Department. And yell for me when you’ve made contact.”
It took twenty minutes for the subspace impulse to leap out across the light-years and find a receiver on Earth, ten minutes more for it to pass through the relay point and on to Rio. Devall returned to the shack to find the lambent green solido field in tune and waiting for him. He stepped through and discovered himself standing a few feet before the desk of the E-T Department’s head. Thornton’s image was sharp, but the desk seemed to waver at the edges. Solid non-organic objects always came through poorly.
Quickly Devall reviewed the situation. Thornton sat patiently, unmoving, till the end of it; hands knotted rigidly, lean face set, he might have been a statue. Finally he commented, “Unpleasant business.”
“Quite.”
“The alien is returning tomorrow, you say? I’m afraid that doesn’t give us much time to hold a staff meeting and explore the problem, Colonel Devall.”
“I could probably delay him a few days.”
Thornton’s thin lips formed a tight bloodless line. After an instant he said, “No. Take whatever action you deem necessary, Colonel. If the psychological pattern of the race is such that unfortunate consequences would result if you refused to allow them to try your man, then you must certainly turn him over. If the step can be avoided, of course, avoid it. The man must be punished in any case.”
The director smiled bleakly. “You’re one of our best men, Colonel. I’m confident you’ll arrive at an ultimately satisfactory resolution to this incident.”
“Thank you, sir,” Devall said, in a dry, uncertain voice. He nodded and stepped back out of field range. Thornton’s image seemed to flicker; Devall caught one last dismissing sentence, “Report back to me when the matter is settled,” and then the field died.
He stood alone in the shabby communications shack, blinking out the sudden darkness that rolled in over him after the solidophone’s intense light, and after a moment began to pick his way over the heaps of equipment and out into the compound.
It was as he had expected. Thornton was a good man, but he was a civilian appointee, subject to government control. He disliked making top-level decisions—particularly when a colonel a few hundred light-years away could be pitchforked into making them for him.
Well, he thought, at least I notified Earth. The rest of the affair is in my hands.
Significantly, there was a red sunset again that night.
HE CALLED a meeting of his top staff men for 0915 the following morning. Work at the base had all but suspended; the linguistics team was confined to the area, and Devall had ordered guards posted at all exits. Violence could rise unexpectedly among even the most placid of alien peoples; it was impossible to predict the moment when a racial circuit-breaker would cease to function and fierce hatred burst forth.
They listened in silence to the tapes of Leonards’ statements, Meyer’s comments, and the brief interview Devall had had with the five aliens. Devall punched the cut-off stud and glanced rapidly round the table at his men: two majors, a captain, and a quartet of lieutenants comprised his high staff, and one of the lieutenants was confined to quarters.
“That’s the picture. The old high priest is showing up here about noon for my answer. I thought I’d toss the thing open for staff discussion first.”
Major Dudley asked for the floor.
He was a short, stocky man with dark flashing eyes, and on several occasions in the past had been known to disagree violently with Devall on matters of procedure. Devall had picked him for four successive trips, despite this; the colonel believed in diversity of opinion, and Dudley was a tremendously efficient organizer as well.
“Major?”
“Sir, it doesn’t seem to me that there’s any question of what action to take. It’s impossible to hand Leonards over to them for trial. It’s—un-Earthlike!”
Devall frowned. “Would you elaborate, Major?”
“Simple enough. We’re the race who developed the spacedrive—therefore, we’re the galaxy’s most advanced race. I think that goes without saying.”
“It does not,” Devall commented. “But go ahead.”
Scowling, Dudley said, “Regardless of your opinion, sir—the aliens we’ve encountered so far have all regarded us as their obvious superiors. I don’t think that can be denied—and I think it can only be attributed to the fact that we are their superiors. Well, if we give up Leonards for trial, it cheapens our position. It makes us look weak, spineless. We—”
“You’re suggesting, then,” Devall broke in, “that we hold the position of overlords in the galaxy—and by yielding to our serfs, we may lose all control over them. Is this your belief, Major?” Devall glared at him.
Dudley met the colonel’s angry gaze calmly. “Basically, yes. Dammit, sir, I’ve tried to make you see this ever since the Hegath expedition. We’re not out here in the stars to collect butterflies and squirrels! We—”
“Out of order,” Devall snapped coldly. “This is a cultural mission as well as a military, Major—and so long as I’m in command it remains primarily cultural.” He felt on the verge of losing his temper. He glanced away from Dudley and said, “Major Grey, could I hear from you?”
Grey was the ship’s astrogator; on land his functions were to supervise stockade-construction and mapmaking. He was a wiry, unsmiling little man with razor-like cheekbones and ruddy skin. “I feel we have to be cautious, sir. Handing Leonards over would result in a tremendous loss of Terran prestige.”
“Loss?” Dudley burst in. “It would cripple us! We’d never be able to hold our heads up honestly in the galaxy again if—”
Calmly Devall said, “Major Dudley, you’ve been ruled out of order. Leave this meeting, Major. I’ll discuss a downward revision of your status with you later.” Turning back to Grey without a further glance at Dudley, he said, “You don’t believe, Major, that such an action would have a corresponding favorable effect on our prestige in the eyes of those worlds inclined to regard Earth uneasily?”
“That’s an extremely difficult thing to determine, six.”
“Very well, then.” Devall rose. “Pursuant to regulations, I’ve brought this matter to the attention of authorities on Earth, and have also offered it for open discussion among my officers. Thanks for your time, gentlemen.”
Captain Marechal said uncertainly, “Sir, won’t there be any vote on our intended course of action?”
Devall grinned coldly. “As commanding officer of this base, I’ll take the sole responsibility upon myself for the decision in this particular matter. It may make things easier for all of us in the consequent event of a court-martial inquiry.”
IT WAS the only way, he thought, as he waited tensely in his office for the high priest to arrive. The officers seemed firmly set against any conciliatory action, in the name of Terra’s prestige. It was hardly fair for him to make them take responsibility for a decision that might be repugnant to them.
Too bad about Dudley, Devall mused. But insubordination of that sort was insufferable; Dudley would have to be dropped from the unit on their next trip out. If there is any next trip out for me, he added.
The intercom glowed gently. “Yes?”
“Alien delegation is here, sir,” said the orderly.
“Don’t send them in until I signal.”
He strode to the window and looked out. The compound, at first glance, seemed full of aliens. Actually there were only a dozen, he realized, but they were clad in full panoply, bright red and harsh green robes, carrying spears and ornamental swords. Half a dozen enlisted men were watching them nervously from a distance, their hands ready to fly to blasters instantly if necessary.
He weighed the choices one last time.
If he handed Leonards over, the temporary anger of the aliens would be appeased—but perhaps at a long-range cost to Earth’s prestige. Devall had long regarded himself as an essentially weak man with a superb instinct for camouflage—but would his yielding to the aliens imply to the universe that all Earth was weak?
On the other hand, he thought, suppose he refused to release Leonards to the aliens. Then he would be, in essence, bringing down the overlord’s thumb, letting the universe know that Earthmen were responsible only to themselves and not to the peoples of of the worlds they visited.
Either way, he realized, the standing of Earth in the galaxy’s estimation would suffer. One way, they would look like appeasing weaklings; the other, like tyrants. He remembered a definition he had once read: melodrama is the conflict of right and wrong, tragedy the conflict of right and right. Both sides were right here. Whichever way he turned, there would be difficulties.
And there was an additional factor: the boy. What if they executed him? Family considerations seemed absurdly picayune at this moment, but still, to hand his own nephew over for possible execution by an alien people—
He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, sharpened the hard gaze of his eyes. A glance at the mirror over the bookcase told him he looked every inch the commanding officer; not a hint of the inner conflict showed through.
He depressed the intercom stud. “Send in the high priest. Let the rest of them wait outside.”
THE PRIEST looked impossibly tiny and wrinkled, a gnome of a man whose skin was fantastically gullied and amazed by extreme age. He wore a green turban over his hairless head—a mark of deep mourning, Devall knew.
The little alien bowed low, extending his pipestem arms behind his bade at a sharp angle, indicating respect. When he straightened, his head craned back sharply, his small round eyes peering directly into Devall’s.
“The jury has been selected; the trial is ready to begin. Where is the boy?”
Devall wished fleetingly he could have had the services of an interpreter for this last interview. But that was impossible; this was something he had to face alone, without help.
“The accused man is in his quarters,” Devall said slowly. “First I want to ask some questions, old one.”
“Ask.”
“If I give you the boy to try, will there be any chance of his receiving the death penalty?”
