“I think we should straighten this out while there’s still time to straighten it out.
“I respectfully submit that we should divide the planets taken over by the Earthmen into two categories—those anyone can see are the work of maniacs, and those that offer hopes of improvement. The first, we should take over by force.”
Horsip became aware that the High Council was not being swept off its feet.
Roggil said thoughtfully, “An accurate presentation, General. But applying force right now won’t work.”
“Sir, we can’t stand by while power-hungry madmen get started piling up space fleets. A lunatic is serious business once he’s got a gun in his hand. As it is now, we can smash the lot of them.”
“Whereupon, the trouble would spread. No, Horsip. It has to come to a head first.”
Horsip felt a powerful impulse to disagree, but suppressed it.
Roggil studied Horsip’s expression.
“There are some facts, General, known only to us and to the highest religious authorities. I can’t say any more that that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We are not necessarily unanimous. But many of us believe something very useful may come out of this situation. That, in fact, something useful is bound to come out of it. Accordingly, you are to continue to observe and report to us. When and if the time comes, we won’t hesitate to use force in whatever way is necessary. Meanwhile, for your personal safety, we are assigning a unit of highly trained shock troops, and a reinforced squadron of the Fleet, to act under your direct command. You are answerable to no one but us for the way you use this force. We trust you to use it in strict accord with our expressed wishes.”
Horsip, beginning to have visions of laying a few dictators by the heels, got control of his imagination, and said stoically, “Yes, sir.”
And that was the end of the interview with the High Council, though some of them nodded in a friendly way as Horsip went out.
* * *
After the lengthy trip back, Horsip and Moffis found themselves once more at their desks, where things meanwhile had progressed. Although the trip had seemed long enough to Horsip, he hadn’t realized how much more time had passed here.
The first report Horsip opened up suggested the change:
* * *
Summary: In summary, it appears safe to say that Premier Ganfre, in creating for himself (through his rubber-stamp cabinet) the post of Unified Planets’ Guide, has solidified his absolute control over the six planets now subject to him. Guide Ganfre is thus well placed to protect himself from any attack by the comparatively split home planets of the Space Soviet. He can also, if he chooses, attack with the bulk of his forces any one of the planets of the Soviet. Intensive analysis of the situation suggests that either Ganfre or the Soviet can be expected to move soon against the various Free Planets, the Farmers Union planets, and the fantastic Free Life worlds. However, as all these planets are under the control of various Earthmen, no certain prediction can be made, only estimates based on analysis of the relative military power of the various planets, and on intensive study of parallel situations on the Earthmen’s home planet. No exact analogy to this present situation can be found, partly because of the control thought to be exercised over the Space Soviet from one nation on the planet Earth. But the apparent probabilities are those given above.
* * *
Horsip looked up dizzily, “Six planets.” He turned to Moffis, who was studying a thick report he had doubled over, and which was threatening to spring shut at any moment.
Horsip started to speak, changed his mind, and looked sourly at the stack of reports on his desk. He told himself that, after all, he could consider the trip to the High Council as a kind of vacation. But the fact now had to be faced that, to write the overall summary of the situation at regular intervals, he had to keep track of what was happening. He took the top report, and looked at the title: “Agriculture in the Farmers Union.”
Horsip opened it up, looked surprised, then began to relax. The report described friendly cooperation between farmers of various kinds from Earth and the Centran farmers. Photographs and sketches showed farm layouts, schemes for returning all the by-products to the soil, new breeds of molk and Earth cattle, ponds, orchards, descriptions of Earth fruits, vegetables, and grains, and Horsip, reading this, fell into a happy frame of mind.
And then he discovered that this planet was not armed.
Horsip sent for a copy of the Articles of Union between Earth and Centra, and discovered that Centran Armed Forces could be used to protect, attack, or otherwise regulate a planet only by approval of the Control Committee. The Control Committee was made up of the three representatives from Centra, and three from Earth. The three from Earth were picked by the various power blocs on the planet. The three from Centra, in the last analysis, were appointed by the High Council. The decision of the Control Commission had to be unanimous to be effective. If any member voted against the others, the decision was nullified.
Checking the records of the Control Commission, Horsip found a long list of resolutions:
Resolved: That the Snard Soviet be warned against aggression. 5-1
Resolved: That Dictator Ganfre be seized and shot. 5-1
Resolved: That the Rogebar Soviet be occupied militarily. 5-1
Resolved: That Dictator Schmung be arrested. 5-1
Resolved: That the Snard Soviet be disarmed. 5-1
Resolved: That free elections be held on Snard. 5-1
Resolved: That Snard be warned against aggression. 5-1
Resolved: That Snard be forced to cease its military action. 5-1
Resolved: That help be dispatched to Lyrica against Snard. 5-1
Horsip looked up in disgust. All these resolutions were waste paper because they weren’t unanimous. Checking further, he discovered that every time the vote was 5-1, it was some Earth representative who objected. When Centra objected, the vote was generally 3-3. Horsip nodded approvingly. That was more like it. But the Earthmen, naturally, couldn’t even agree with each other. He shook his head, sent the records back to the files, and reached for the next report. This proved to be about a planet renamed “Cheyenne” by the Earthmen:
. . . inhabitants all wear guns strapped around their waists, and excel in drawing the guns rapidly, in “horsemanship” (the horse is a beast imported from Earth—like a slender molk with no horns), and in games played with cards (like our Grab but more complicated), and by means of various contraptions intended to provide unpredictable chance. Exactly who set up this set of customs is not known, the first immigrants having long since been shot by later arrivals. While there is no visible reason for contentment, rough humor and good nature for some reason prevail . . .
Horsip scratched his head, sifted through the report, and read:
. . . somewhat over three thousand volunteers are believed to have gone to Lyrica during the Snard invasion. A resolution to punish Cheyenne was introduced in the Control Commission, but vetoed by the Euramerican representative. Upwards of ten thousand casualties are believed to have been inflicted on the Snard troops, who were baffled by the Cheyenne method of fighting. Survivors of the Cheyenne expedition are believed to have settled into rough broken country on Lyrica, from which they still raid the Snard troops. They are said to be led by an “Apache Indian.” What that is, is not known, but it appears effective, as Snard is compelled to maintain a huge garrison . . .
Horsip skimmed farther, then picked up a paper headed “A Study of Conditions on the Planet Bibedebop.”
He murmured the name to himself, weighed the report in his hand, told himself he would have to read it to report on it, flipped through it rapidly, and was not encouraged by the dense mass of print that looked up in one solid block of technicalities. Horsip turned to the summary:
Summary: To summarize, in the simplest possible terms, the inhabitants of Bibedebop, believing in the vanity of any expectation of future reward or punishment, and the inapplicability of conventional mores to the human condition, strive to maximize the input of pleasurable sensation, while severely restricting the output of conventionally so-regarded productive effort. “Maximization of satisfaction with minimization of effort” might be regarded as the life-goal of the inhabitants. Indeed—
* * *
Horsip looked up angrily. From Moffis’ desk came a thump as he set down the massive report. Horsip tossed his own report on the “Outgoing” heap. “Do you have one worth reading?”
“Yes,” said Moffis, “but it isn’t pleasant.”
“If you’re through, let’s see it.”
Moffis handed it over. Horsip pried it open to read “Armament Rates of Earth-Dominated Planets.”
Horsip felt a chill as he looked at charts marked “Weapons Production, Overall,” “Space Ship Production,” “Growth of Technological Production.” Toward the edge of each chart, the curves climbed like ships headed for outer space.