Code of the Lifemaker By James P. Hogan

escaped and managed to join up with a relief column advancing from Menassim

under the command of a General Yemblayen. Kleippur had ordered Yemblayen to halt

and avoid further engagements until the reason for the sudden Waskorian

invincibility was better understood.

The most worrisome aspect of the unexpected Waskorian successes was that the

Lumian weapons must have come from the Kroaxians, with whom the Lumians were

known to have made contact. If the Waskorians were taking over the border zone

as preparation for an all-out invasion from Kroaxia, and if the whole of the

regular Kroaxian army had been equipped, with firepower as devastating as that

being demonstrated behind Kleippur’s residence, then Carthogia wouldn’t last

another bright. Kleippur’s social experiment would be over; night would fall

over an Age of Reason that had barely begun to dawn; and everything that Thirg

and Lofbayel had sought to escape would ensnare them once again.

“What is your opinion, Pellimiades?” Kleippur asked the technical advisor, who

was examining another sample of Waskorian weaponry with an artisan’s keen eye.

Pellimiades shook his head dubiously. “Such detail and precision are only to be

found growing naturally upon this world,” he replied. “No work of any craftsman

that I have seen, nor any of which I have heard tell, could remotely approach

it. If this is Lumian workmanship, then the Lumians could well be lifemakers

indeed.”

“You can offer no imitation, however crude, nor any other means by which our

soldiers might hope to compete on equal terms?” Dornvald asked.

Pellimiades shook his head again. “None, General.”

Two soldiers arrived at a run from the far end of the grounds and presented four

target plates. The first had the center of its red disk completely blown away;

the second was torn into a tight cluster of overlapping holes offset to one side

of the disk; the third was peppered with a pattern of more widely scattered

holes; and the fourth was much like the first. Kleippur drew a long, heavy

intake over his coolant vanes and shook his head gravely. “We have no choice,”

he said. “Our only chance is to accept the terms which the Merehant-Lumians

offered us originally. If we cannot supply comparable armaments of our own, then

we must obtain theirs; and if taming forests for Lumians is the price we must

pay, then so be it. This has become a matter of survival.” He turned to

Lyokanor, the army’s senior intelligence officer. “Assemble the Cabinet to agree

what shall be the form of our message. We will convey it to the Lumian merchant

princes by way of the inquirers who still occupy the Lumian camp.”

“At once, sir,” Lyokanor replied and hurried away.

“We will proceed to the Council Chamber and await the others there,” Kleippur

said. “Our first task must be to arm every able-bodied citizen as best we can in

case the Kroaxians invade, and to agree on tactics for holding out until we

begin receiving Lumian aid. The times ahead will be hard ones, I fear.”

Thirg felt dejected as he and Lofbayel followed the rest of the party across the

rear courtyard toward the house. Kleippur, with his usual pragmatic acceptance,

was devoting his efforts to making the best of the situation as it existed and

not wasting time and energy on futile accusations or complaints. But it was

Thirg who had persuaded him that the Wearer was sincere, and who had talked him

into heeding the Wearer’s treacherous words. It was clear now that the whole

episode involving the Wearer had been a Lumian ploy to keep Carthogia

unsuspecting and inactive while negotiations were concluded with Kroaxia, the

start of a process that would eventually bring all the robeing nations under the

Lumian heel. The Lumian strategy to attain that goal had been cold, calculated,

ruthless, and efficient, and its implementation seemed so practiced that

Kleippur suspected the whole technique to have been perfected long ago—used,

perhaps, for the enslavement of dozens, or even dozen-dozens, of worlds. But

whatever the truth of that, there could be no stopping the process now. Better a

slave state than no state at all—the main task now was to ensure the survival of

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