“These defeats were inflicted on us on the planet Terex, an earthlike world with people like ourselves. Although their technology was not very advanced, Planetary Development considered them so far advanced in other respects that they granted the planet provisional status. About two years ago, a series of petty revolts broke out on Terex. The local government appealed for help. Planetary Development Authority is sympathetic to the locals, and regards the planet as a showcase of ‘interplanetary cooperation.’ PDA, therefore, put this request for help through in record time, and we were ordered in to straighten out the situation. We were also ordered, in the strictest terms, not to offend local sensibilities. The locals, while not very advanced technologically, have a powerfully developed set of priestly hierarchies, and we were not to interfere in religious matters.
“Unfortunately, little by little it developed that the local gods are allergic to modern technology. They don’t like air transportation, or mechanized ground transport, or computers, satellites, or any of a very large variety of our weapons. The high priests explained that our equipment creates ‘bad vibrations.’ A reconnaissance satellite is a ‘new star,’ which disrupts all kinds of astrological considerations. Gravitors are anathema—they ‘warp the lines of destinic action.’ Aircraft are ‘solid objects which unnaturally cut the rays of influence of the stars.’ Ground transport is all right, provided it doesn’t get its motive power from ‘unnatural heat,’ which ‘disturbs the solar influence.’ For similar reasons, all manner of our weapons can’t be tolerated. All these things become religious matters. If we didn’t obey these injunctions, we would be irreligious. This would offend local sensibilities in the worst way, and that is exactly what we were ordered not to do.
“Now, this situation didn’t present itself in a clear-cut way. It developed piecemeal. At first, the locals enthusiastically welcomed our troops. Next, the priests insisted that it would be necessary not to use this or that device or weapon. Gradually, bit by bit, the situation changed. The final result was that our men wound up practically disarmed.
“To begin with, too, the guerrilla problem didn’t look too bad, and the local transportation system, that we were going to have to rely on if we didn’t use mechanized transport, seemed reasonably reliable.
“Unfortunately, we ran into a local religious sect called the Skaga cult. This gang operates on the theory that ‘good can be made out of evil.’ The Skagas do evil to others in confidence that the ‘balance wheel of fate’ will return good to the victim, evening up the score with no effort on the Skagas’ part. The Skagas evidently decided the Space Force was ripe for a lot of good done by their special methods. Without our even knowing there was such a cult, they infiltrated the loading stations where our supplies are transferred to the local transportation system, set up a black market, and began selling our weapons to all comers—including the guerrillas.
“Meanwhile, we were trying to prevail on the local priesthood to reconsider the ban on our weapons. They finally agreed to let certain banned weapons be used, tentatively. We rushed them down to the planet, and, thanks to the Skagas, the guerrillas got the weapons first. By torture, they forced our captured troops to explain the weapons.
“The guerrillas, incidentally, had the advantage by now. Our men weren’t properly armed, didn’t know local conditions, and were fighting in a way they weren’t used to. The guerrillas dealt out a rough series of partial defeats, and then, using our own recently shipped weapons, wiped out two of our best regiments.
“Our local commander found himself with a series of defeats, a well-organized black market draining off supplies from the transportation network, a powerful guerrilla movement well supplied with our own weapons, and worst of all, a large proportion of the people who suddenly regard the Space Force, and humans generally, as inferior beings. ‘See,’ the argument goes, ‘the Skagas are smarter, and the guerrillas are better warriors. The spacemen are weaklings. They cannot manage their own affairs. They are unfit to lead others.’ The result of this attitude is every kind of obstruction and irritation, with the prospect of much worse in the near future.
“To straighten out this mess, our commander on the planet could see only one thing to do—use stronger weapons. But, by now, even this won’t work, unless we carry out a general slaughter. Too large a part of the populace is now sympathetic to the guerrillas. And we are still hamstrung by our orders. To get them changed, through channels, is proving a very slow process. Well—when the final casualty lists from the two big ambushes came in, our commander shot himself. The mess has now been turned over to me.”
The Space Force general drew a deep breath.
“This situation is now so hopelessly confused that I will be frank and say that I am out of my depth. I hereby respectfully request interservice assistance.”
The colonel snapped the spool out of the viewer, walked over, and handed it back. The Chief, sitting back flipping through a bulky set of printed sheets, took the spool without looking up, and shoved a thick sheaf of reports across the desk. “Here.”
The colonel took them and scowled.
“Are we supposed to read that stuff?”
“That’s the general idea.”
“By the time we get through, half the combat infantry in the Space Force could be buried on Terex.”
“Just skim it. We aren’t going to be able to prepare as thoroughly for this job as I’d like.”
“Why not put it through the mill, and make it into an orientation?”
“Too realistic. This way, the misinformation has to go through a fine-mesh sieve before it gets into our minds.”
The colonel frowned, and opened up the topmost report, to skim rapidly:
The Gr’zaen Religion:
Sun-Worship on Terex
by
J. K. Fardel, Ph.D.
While Terexian sun-worshipers, like those of other religions, on this planet . . . gladly welcome converts to their religion . . . they, too, have the regrettable habit of decapitating those who seek to observe their rites . . . A further obstruction to objective research . . . arises out of the fact that those who seek to question the true believers regarding religious details are soon shunned, while a true believer who reveals details of the rites and practices is . . . likely to be punished by hideous torture. Therefore, despite the use of . . . spy devices . . . a strictly accurate and complete description of the Gr’zaen religion is . . . somewhat hard to come by. Nevertheless, it is possible to make a few . . . reasonable approximations. On Earth, the sun-worshipers of ancient times—
The colonel looked up exasperatedly.
“At least, let’s run this stuff through a condenser.”
“No. That loses the unique flavor some of these reports convey. But, as a matter of fact, I think the basic situation is clear enough so we won’t have to absorb all of this misinformation.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
The colonel flipped through the sheaf, and came upon a report headed: “The Terexian Transportation Network.” He skimmed this rapidly, and a picture came across of a collection of animal-drawn vehicles and primitive railroads, of coastwise shipping infested by pirates, of inclined roadways down which vehicles traveled by gravity, to be hauled up a steep slope for the next stage, the whole so-called transportation system being sluggish, subject to a complete stoppage on every religious feast day, and dependent for continuous performance on a large number of warehouses in which goods periodically piled up and drained out as the erratically functioning parts of the network speeded up or broke down.
Scowling, he read more slowly, noting the opportunities this transport net offered black marketeers and guerrillas. To top everything else, it was irreligious to work on feast days, so on these days the Terexian guards were off duty.
The colonel next leafed through the stack until he came upon a report headed “The Irregular Volunteers on Terex.” The choice of words puzzled him, but became clear as he read a paean of praise for the guerrillas, and realized that the writer of this PDA report hated the Space Force.
The obvious next thing to look for was information about the Skaga cult. But after reading it, the colonel knew less than he’d thought he’d known to start with.
The Chief impatiently tossed the last report on the desk.
“It seems to me that the local guerrillas, religious leaders, and Skaga cultists, are all different parts of the same thing—a kind of machine to grind the Space Force troops on the planet to a pulp. But it’s hard to see how the Skagas get along with the rest. The others seem to have moral standards.”
The colonel looked up from a report on “comparative literature,” which praised the “technical artistry” of the locals, but complained of their “primitive exaltation of craft and prowess. Indeed, the most popular folk hero, in whatever guise he may appear, is inevitably faced by a formidable enemy, whom he defeats by a stroke of genius, usually delivered while the hero’s own cause is on the brink of disaster.”