XIV
Poles Apart
The yellow sun of Shinar glittered brazenly on the sea and pressed its warmth into the long, curving, white beach. But the six young Shinarians trudging slowly along the sand paid no attention to the brilliant sun, nor to the steady, stiff breeze coming off the water, and the crashing surf that it propelled.
“And that’s all that the Watchman had to say?” Merdon asked, rhetorically.
Altai nodded. “It seemed to be a good beginning.”
“Beginning?” Merdon laughed. “He’s just asking us to gp right back to where we started.”
“How did the other leaders take to his proposal?” Tarat asked.
“They seemed”—she hunted for the right word— “impressed.”
“When you boil down to essentials,” Merdon said, “the Watchman is asking us to help the Empire fight off the Komani. In return for this, he promises to do his best get the Imperial bureaucracy to consider—consider, mind you—giving us some measure of freedom in the undetermined future.”
“What more can he do for us?” Altai asked.
“More? He hasn’t done anything. Not a thing. The conference was a farce.”
“Well, maybe not,” Romal piped. “The Watchman is giving us a chance to prove to the Terrans that we can take care of ourselves. After all, wouldn’t the Empire be indebted to us if we helped to stop the Komani threat?”
Merdon glared down at his little quartermaster.
“What other choices do we have?” Altai insisted. “The Komani haven’t crushed the Mobile Force. The chances are that the war will go on for some time—until either the Terrans or the Komani bring enough reinforcements to Shmar to overpower the other. If we wait until that happens, we’ll be at the mercy of the winner, whichever it may be.”