“The vestigial tail is almost completely absorbed. There’s no visible stump at all. And the head is set more nearly erect on the body.”
“Splendid! Yes, very good indeed.” Horsip looked vastly pleased. “You realize the implications?”
“I don’t see anything good about it,” said Moffis.
“Oh, come, man,” said Horsip. “You’ve had a difficult experience, but don’t let it distort your values. This is a propitious start for Planetary Integration. These folk are self-marked, by nature. We’ll have no mixed-race trouble here, nor any of the usual marking difficulties, either.”
Horsip paused in thought, snapped his fingers and added, “For instance, look at the words that apply to these natives: big-headed, hairless, flat-nosed—”
“But they aren’t flat-nosed.”
“What does that matter? Didn’t you say their noses were smaller?”
“Well, yes. But not flat.”
Horsip waved his hand. “Never mind that. We’ll call them flat-nosed. Now let’s see. Big-headed, hairless, flat-nosed. Wasn’t there another—”
“Tailless,” supplied Moffis, without enthusiasm.
“Yes, tailless. Well—” Horsip leaned back, and a smile of creative enjoyment crossed his face—”we’ll call them ‘Puff-skulled, hairless, flat-nosed, lop-tails.’ Let’s see any of our rowdy young bloods try to mate with them after that.”
“They will,” said Moffis tonelessly.
“But not officially,” said Horsip. “And that’s what counts.” He looked down with pleasurable anticipation at the planet grown large beneath them. He rubbed his hands. “Well,” he said, “this is going to be pleasant work. A treat, Moffis.”
Moffis shut his eyes as if to ease a pain.
“I hope so,” he said.
* * *
A strong guard of heavily-armed soldiers awaited them in the landing area, itself ringed by several formidable lines of spike-bar barriers, thickly sown with leaping-mine trip wires, and covered by deeply dug-in splat-gun emplacements.
Horsip looked the defenses over curiously as he walked with Moffis to a heavily-armored ground-car. He noted that the soldiers carried out their orders readily enough, but without a certain verve usual on newly-conquered planets. “Trouble?” he asked.
Moffis glanced around uneasily. “Roving bands,” he said. “You think you’ve got them wiped out, and they pop up again somewhere else.”
They got into the ground-car, an order was shouted outside, and the convoy began to move off. It wound out onto the road like a giant chuffing snake, moving jerkily as gaps opened and closed between vehicles. The going was bumpy till they got out onto the main road, then the cars moved smoothly along. At this stage, Horsip raised up to peer out a shuttered slit in the side of his vehicle. For a hundred yards back from the side of the road, the vegetation was a burnt black. He scowled.
Moffis read his thoughts. “Yes, clearing the roadside is an unusual precaution. But it’s either that or get plastered with a can of inflammable liquid when you go by in the car.”
“Such an unnecessary width might indicate fear to the natives.”
Moffis suppressed a snort.
Horsip looked at him coldly. “Isn’t that so?”
“Maybe,” said Moffis. “And maybe it indicates fear to a molk when you put heavier bars on his stall. But the main idea is, not to get gored.”
“We’ve already conquered these lop-tails.”
“Some of them don’t know it yet. That’s the trouble.”
“We won’t convince them by being frightened.”
“We won’t convince them by being dead, either.”
Horsip looked at Moffis coldly. His heavy brows came together and he opened his mouth.
There was a dull boom from somewhere up ahead. Their car slowed suddenly, swerved, and then rolled forward so fast they were thrown hard back against the cushions. Something spanged against the side of the car. The snapping whack of a splat-gun sounded up ahead, was joined by others, and rose to a crescendo as they raced forward and passed to one side of the uproar. Acrid fumes momentarily filled the car, making Horsip cough and his eyes run. Somewhere in the background there was an unfamiliar hammering thud that jarred Horsip’s nerves. There was another explosion, and another, now well to the rear. Then the car slowed with a loud squeal from the machinery. Horsip was thrown forward, then slammed back hard as the car raced ahead again. As they settled into a fast steady run, he turned to Moffis with a thoughtful frown. “How much farther do we have to go?”
“We should be about a quarter of the way.”
Horsip sat, pale and thoughtful, beside Moffis, who sat, pale and gloomy, all the way to Horsip’s new headquarters.
* * *
The site of the new headquarters was not well chosen to convey the effect of untouchable superiority. The site consisted of a large, blackened mountain with a concrete tunnel entrance at the base. The mountain bristled with air-defense cannon, was pocked and lined with shell holes, trenches, bunkers, and spike-bar barriers. Around the tunnel entrance at the base, the barriers, cannon, and splat-gun emplacements were so thick as to excite ridicule. Horsip was about to comment on it when he noted a huge thing like a monster turtle some hundred-and-fifty yards from the entrance. He felt the hair on his neck, back, and shoulders bristle.
“What’s that?”
Moffis peered out the slit. “One of the humanoids’ traveling forts.”
Horsip stared at the long thick cannon that pointed straight at the tunnel entrance. He swallowed. “Ah . . . is it disarmed?” The ground-car’s armor plating suddenly seemed very thin. “It is, isn’t it?”
Moffis said, “Not exactly. Our engineers are studying it.”
“You don’t mean the humanoids are still in control of it?”
“Oh, no,” said Moffis. “The concussion from our bombardment apparently killed them. Our experts are inside it, trying to figure out the mechanism.”
“Oh.” Horsip, as his angle of view changed, saw an armored ground-car gradually come into sight, parked near the alien fort. He damned himself for his scare. Of course, the thing was disarmed. But he could not help noticing how ineffectual the ground-car looked beside it. He cleared his throat.
“How many of those, ah, ‘moving forts’ did the humanoids have?”
“Hundreds of them,” said Moffis.
They rode in silence through the massive concrete entrance, and Horsip felt an unexpected sense of relief as the thick layer of earth, rock, and cement intervened between himself and the alien world. They rode downward for a long distance, then got out of the ground-car. Moffis showed Horsip around his new headquarters, which consisted of a large suite of rooms comfortably fitted-out; several outer offices with files, clerks, and thick bound volumes of maps and data; and a private inner office paneled in dark wood, with Horsip’s desk and chair on a raised dais, and a huge flag of Centra hanging behind it.
Horsip looked everything over in complete silence. Then he looked again around the private office at the desk, dais, and flag. He cleared his throat.
“Let’s go into my suite. Do you have the time?”
“I suppose so,” said Moffis gloomily. “There isn’t a great deal I can do, anyway.”
Horsip looked at him sharply, then led the way back to his suite. They sat down in a small study, then Horsip got up, scowling intently, and began to pace the floor. Moffis looked at him curiously.
“Moffis,” said Horsip suddenly, “you haven’t told me the whole story.”
Moffis looked startled.
“Go on,” said Horsip. “Let’s have it.”
“I’ve summarized—”
“You’ve left out pieces. Perhaps you’ve told me the facts and left out interpretations. We need it all.” He faced Moffis and pinned him with his gaze.
“Well—” said Moffis, looking uncomfortable.
“You’re my military deputy,” said Horsip, his eyes never leaving Moffis. “You and I must work together, each supplying the other’s lacks. The first rule of planetary integration is to apply the maximum available force, in line with itself. If you apply force in one direction, and I apply force in another direction, the result will be less than if we both apply force in the same direction. That can be proved.
“Now,” he said, “you have had a difficult time. You hit with all your strength, and the blow was blunted. The natives showed considerable low cunning in using the brute force at their disposal. Because we are accustomed to swift victories, the slowness of your success discouraged you. I was somewhat surprised at the situation myself, at first.
“However,” said Horsip, his voice swelling, “a molk is a molk no matter how many bars he kicks off his stall. He may put up a struggle. It may take twenty times as long as usual to strap his neck to the block and slam the ax through. But when he’s dead, he’s just as dead as if it was over in a minute. Right?”
“Truth,” said Moffis, looking somewhat encouraged.
“All right,” said Horsip, pacing. “Now, we’ve got the molk into the stall, but apparently we’re having some little trouble getting his head in the straps. Now, we can’t strap a molk in the dark, Moffis. The horns will get us if we try it. We’ve got to have light. You’ve got to light up the beast for me with the lantern of knowledge, Moffis, or I can’t do my part. How about it?”