Complete Short Fiction, page 400
Jaer stopped his forward movement. He did not reply. Her next words quivered on the tip of her tongue but remained unspoken.
Miliss was startled. She had an enormous sensitivity to small signals. He had been coming forward with that Jana male arrogance, his whole manner vibrating with the message that he would not be denied.
And now he stood still. And the way he stood telegraphed uncertainty.
“Is something wrong?” Miliss asked.
More silence, a sense of darker emotions. She was astounded. Jana males were reputed to have a peculiar calm humor in the rape situation. Both humor and savoir-faire required expression in words, not silence.
During the strange pause, like a suspension of time in the cell, she had nevertheless become aware of the night and the prison. A time had been on Jana when there had been no prisons, only a few compounds where “enemies” were kept prior to execution.
On Jana, for more millennia than she cared to recall, people had been tolerated—or executed. No middle situation had existed. This and similar prisons were actually a great victory for less harsh attitudes.
So the sounds of a vast life around her were presently heartening to Miliss. She heard metallic clanks, distant throat raspings, Jana males snarling in their sleep and occasional echoes of faraway voices. Sounds of many prisoners. The Nunbrid prison was large. It was filled with people who would be tried in court for their offenses and who were not subject—as had once been the case—to the compulsive masculine rage of some intolerant noble.
A feeling of peaceful accomplishment was settling over Miliss. Dav and she had civilized these people.
Jaer finally spoke.
“I had a sudden insight—and I’m having another one.”
His voice was strained, not really calm. She sensed in its tone an advantage for her. Somehow the situation was no longer as dangerous as it had been. This male was genuinely disturbed.
By what?
MILISS pressed her own purpose upon him.
“Is that all you can say about the coincidence of your prediction and Rocquel’s return?”
“I’m still wondering about it myself,” was the grim answer.
The threat was in his voice again. She rushed past it.
“Don’t you realize the impossibility of such an unsupported insight—the odds against its baring truth?”
For a tense moment in the unyielding closeness of the cell, in the darkness broken only by a flashlight that sometimes pointed at her and sometimes at the metal bars—and occasionally, briefly, at Jaer himself—she thought that he would acknowledge reason and dismiss the subject. But Jana nobles, she shortly decided in despair, were not up to her kind of strict logic. His mien told her he was accepting his intuition.
For a long moment, while he stood there silently, her fear grew.
Then: “There’s only one explanation,” he said slowly. “Rocquel was in hiding with you and Dav while he was gone.”
“No. That’s absolutely not true. If you’re acting on that assumption—you’re in danger.”
“Danger?”
“There’s a hidden force at work. It can strike at you if you ignore it. In fact, it probably has already struck—or how could you have had two insights?”
“You’re trying to alarm me,” said Jaer harshly. “And a Jana male cannot be frightened.”
“But he can think about how best to survive,” countered Miliss. “At least—” she couldn’t help the biting remark—“the males I know always do.”
Again silence filled the cell. The light winked off. Into that darkness and that silence Miliss projected what seemed to her to be the only possible explanation.
“What has happened means that you’ve been programed,” she said.
“Programed? I don’t understand.”
“It’s impossible that you could have a second major intuition unless somebody had installed it in your mind under mechanical hypnosis.”
“I just bad it. It’s my own thought.”
“It’s not your own thought. You’re being manipulated.” She broke off. “Don’t you see, you couldn’t possibly—being a Jana noble—have all by yourself predicted Rocquel’s return on the basis of my arrest. It’s too radical and fantastic a prediction. Yet it came true. And now another one? Impossible.”
Once more he was silent. The flashlight was on again, its beam tilted casually, showing his scowling face, narrowed eyes and lower lip pushed up. He was evidently having unpleasant, calculating thoughts.
Abruptly he asked, “Why did you and Dav separate?”
Miliss hesitated, then said, “He was more and more adopting the attitudes and behavior of the Jana male—and treating me as Jana males treat Jana females. I had had enough years ago—but we were alone here, two human beings, the last of our kind in this area. So I tried to make my peace with the situation as Jana females have done for so long.”
THERE was actually more to it than that. It had, of course, kept occurring to her that the frequent despair she had felt over Dav might in fact be the death wish that had destroyed the human race. She had fought against her growing embitterment, until, one day not too long since, she had had an insight of her own.
Human males were, had always been, exactly as vicious as the Janae. But human women, having their own maternal instinct to satisfy, had endlessly compromised with the egotistical villains. The need for motherhood had put a fortunate—for the men and the race—veil over a woman’s awareness of the impossible true nature of the beasts.
Once she had recognized the thought, leaving Dav was only a matter of a brief period of rethinking her reasons, and convincing herself finally.
Jaer’s voice came grimly.
He said, “I didn’t have my first insight until after I had arrested you. I’ve had my second one in your presence. So you’re doing this to me. By Dilit, woman—” Miliss said urgently, “Tell me what your second insight is.” When he had told her she said, “But that’s ridiculous—what good does that do me?”
Jaer must have recognized her logic. He stood very still.
After a long pause he said slowly, “But I did get both thoughts in your presence, so someone knows I’m here.”
His manner showed unease. The implication of danger was visibly penetrating his awareness. Miliss sensed her advantage.
She said, “What is so meaningless about these insights is that I detect that your purpose in arresting me was entirely personal. You saw a possibility of challenging the throne and simultaneously obtaining me as a mistress—”
“Silence, woman.” Jaer sounded alarmed. “I have never desired the throne—that’s treason. I’d better leave before I damage you and ruin my case against you in court. But don’t think I’m through with you.”
The light winked out. Quick steps sounded. A metal door clicked open and clanged shut.
She heard him retreating along a corridor. And realized that she was almost as shaken as he.
That second insight, she told herself, is absolutely mad.
But for the first time in many years she slept poorly.
IV
THE next day.
Shortly after sunrise the council members began cycling up to the meeting place at the beginning of the slickrock range, seven miles west of Nunbrid. By the time Rocquel arrived on his new motorbike, Dav and eight Jana males of high rank were already there. The human sat on his bike off to one side but the Jana nobles were impatiently gunning their motors, visibly anxious to get started on their hazardous meeting-in-motion.
Rocquel was greeted by a number of insulting but quite good-natured comments about his overweight machine. He responded with well-placed sneers about overcautious small-bike riders. But he was curious. There had been changes in design during his absence. Wheeling around with the casual daring of an expert cyclist, he made quick, searching examination of the mount of each council member to see what time and manufacturers had wrought.
As always for slickrocking, all the motorcycles were small, tough, and light. But Rocquel noticed that three of the bikes were smaller than he remembered—not more than 100cc., perhaps even 90 or 80—compared to his 175 cc. machine.
He questioned the three owners about it. He was still getting boastful replies when Jaer Dorrish and a sly-eyed air-force officer roared up and charged their metal steeds up the first incline.
Jaer yelled, “Meeting called to order—”
A number of nobles uttered wild cries, gunned their motors and took off in pursuit of the latecomers.
Dav brought up the rear.
Moments later everyone was in motion and the meeting of the supreme council of Jana was in session.
In the old days—before the machines—a king had held his council meetings while riding a tamed, high-backed Mesto-beast. The Mestos were dangerous, cunning creatures, always, looking for an opportunity to upset their riders, and Mesto-riding was, accordingly, considered great fun. But a Mesto simply could not cover the distances or go over the rough and beautiful slickrock country.
At first the nobles climbed steadily, strung out unevenly, bobbing up and down over domes, knobs and ridges, skipping at a good clip over the almost glass-smooth, steel-hard straights. Rocquel, coming up from behind, kept edging up to Jaer and finally had his bike racing along parallel to the bright green machine of the big male.
“What’s on the agenda?” he yelled.
Jaer’s answering cry brought up the subject of Miliss. He made a slashing gesture with one hand, cutting the air with it as if it were a blade, then showed his teeth in a grimacing smile.
He shouted, “I propose that this woman be put to death.”
“On what grounds?” Rocquel roared back, surprised.
Jaer’s suggestion was discourteous in view of the fact that Dav was at the council meeting. Or was it possible that Jaer had not yet seen Dav?
As the day dragged by Jaer’s unawareness of Dav began to seem less and less a coincidence. But Jaer’s intentness on Miliss and on the new law might have accounted for his attitude toward Dav.
DAV anticipated a crisis as soon as he was told what was on the agenda and the nature of the new law.
The law itself required no special explanation for him. It was he who had proposed the idea of a constitutional monarchy to a resistant Rocquel. The very next day—a year ago—the powerful Jana leader had gone off on a religious hegira.
Now he was back, acceptant.
Mentally, Dav triggered a thought amplifier. It in turn channeled power into a relay that blazed one of the symbols.
The symbol of a Constitutional Monarchy.
That done, he considered with mirthless good humor the proposal to execute Miliss. Ironic that Jaer was planning to put on trial a person already doomed.
Should Jaer be told?
But when Dav finally joined the group the crisis came so rapidly that there was no time to mention anything.
The council members stopped in front of a big cave, at the 9000-foot level. Here the great nobles of Jana sat on bikes with engines idling while they gulped breakfast.
Rocquel was aware of an ugly, throaty sound from Jaer. He spun around and saw Dav easing his bike into the clearing. Dav came to a full stop.
Beside Rocquel, Jaer let out a bellow and gunned his motor.
THAT night Rocquel described the day to Nerda, then asked curiously, “What do you think happened to Jaer? You know more about what Dav can do than anyone.”
Conversations between them were not common. She was not required by law or custom to speak to him as long as she performed her wifely duties. He was not surprised when she did not reply. But he deduced from the thoughtful expression on her face that she was considering the matter and would eventually give him an answer.
Yet it was morning before she answered.
“A symbol,” she said then, “as Dav has described it, represents a real thing or thought. It is not itself the thing or the thought—” Rocquel waited, uneasily aware that he was being presented with a concept that might be too subtle for a Jana noble—too subtle even for himself, despite his past year of indoctrination.
Nerda continued, “When the symbol representing constitutional monarchy is finally a part of the thinking of millions of Janae, the force of it in all those minds will maintain such a system for decades under normal circumstances—or at least until another symbol replaces it, which, of course, is happening very rapidly with Dav and Miliss forcing us into civilization.”
Rocquel felt helpless before her explanation. She seemed to understand what she was saying and he didn’t.
We males of the nobility are really no longer a part of what is happening . . .
It was discouraging but he persisted.
“What I saw,” he said, “was Jaer’s motorcycle stop—not short—but as if it ran into an elastic wall that took the full force of his forward impetus and gently flung him back. He ended up on the ground. But he was not hurt.”
“He struck the symbol,” said Nerda. “These symbols have become progressively more violent in their reaction. The most violent so far is the symbol of a constitutional monarchy.”
He said, “You say the symbol. But what was the force involved?”
“The force of the symbol.” Her expression showed her awareness of his bewilderment. “Don’t you see?” she urged. “All those millions of people who believe.” What Rocquel was seeing was that he had made a mistake in asking her for her opinion. He wanted to say that nobody yet believed in the new law. It would not even be publicly announced until later this morning. But his awful feeling leaped past that idea to the more personal awareness that he had lowered himself in her eyes. He recalled with a sinking sensation the Jana male conviction that if a female even once gained a genuine advantage over her husband it was the end of their relationship. Nothing the male did after that could repair the damage.
Fighting for recovery, he nodded and said aloud, “I see. Your many conversations with Dav have been very educational and valuable for both of us. I congratulate you. It’s a difficult concept.”
He divined from an odd look in her eyes that she saw through his verbal stratagem.
She said slowly, “We mustn’t expect too much from a constitutional monarchy in terms of change in the passions. Rule of law merely regulates a society in a more orderly fashion than absolutism. An accused individual is no longer subject to arbitrary judgments but is allowed time by the courts to defend himself within the frame of the law. Yet in the end he may pay the same penalty.” She concluded: “And so, to answer your question of last night—I believe we shall see how Jaer was affected by the way he allows the trial of Miliss to be conducted.”
Rocquel, who was still striving for recovery from his fateful error in having this discussion with her at all, said in his most matter-of-fact voice, “What I’m curious about is the nature of the charges he intends to level against her—”
THOSE charges surprised Dav more than Rocquel, who still nursed memories of his year away. He had learned something about humans during his absence and could even control a certain symbol himself—without, he realized, really understanding it.
Miliss was accused of being an enemy alien, illegally resident on Jana; spying for an invading alien force from space; conspiring to pretend to be a member of a decadent race when in fact she was a member of a superior, dominant race set down among primitives.
She was also charged with harboring criminal intent.
Dav scanned the headlines unbelievingly, standing in the rain in front of a newsstand. Janae in colorful raincoats drifted past him as—directed by a guide sentence on page one—he turned to the editorial page. There he read in the language of Low Jana:
In an unprecedented action the government today challenged the right to live on this planet of the two relics of an older civilization. Almost melodramatic charges of conspiracy were leveled at the couple but only the woman has been arrested.
We propose to leave to the courts the resolution of the legal tangle implicit in this arrest but find ourselves thoughtful about the matter on a strictly theoretical basis.
Explorers have recently found isolated tribes of Janae still living in stone-age cultures. Contact with our superior civilization was inacted as a depressant on the aspirations and mores of the backward peoples and they have seemed unable to recover as a group.
Until today’s governmental action we have known a reverse condition with the two human beings resident on Jana. They represent an older culture—one that apparently had virtually died out for reasons never analyzed. Such a decadent culture, even though it had clearly attained heights of scientific achievement far in advance of what is available on Jana, has not acted as depressant on spirit of the Janae.
Matters to be adjudicated by the courts include the following: Are Dav and Miliss representatives of a superior culture that is merely pretending to be decadent, so that the normal depressant impact upon an inferior culture is avoided? If so, does their presence here come under the heading of an alien conspiracy? And can such a purpose be interpreted as an invasion?
THE account was perceptive. It indicated the presence of a highly intelligent professional class already in existence in Nunbrid and hundreds of other cities. The lower-class Janae had clearly matured more rapidly than their hereditary rulers. Yet the tone of the editorial was neither inflammatory nor antagonistic. In fact, it showed respect for the government and awareness of the meaning of the new law.
Dav’s own thought ceased at that point. He had been aware that passersby were glancing at him. Now, suddenly, one big male stopped, uttered an explosive oath and lifted an arm threateningly, as if to strike.
Dav shrank back involuntarily. The male grew instantly contemptuous and kicked at him. Dav, alert now, dodged with easy skill but dropped his newspaper. The big fellow scooped it up from the wet sidewalk and pounded the soggy sheets.
He roared, “You’ve got to be nothing. You’re the last of a vanished race. A nothing! A nothing!”
