“Not if they’re fighting the whole Terran Empire. Shinar could still become free while the Ten-ans and the Komani exhaust themselves in their war.”
Romal shook his head. “That’s an awfully long gamble to take.”
“But if it works …”
“Fine, if it works,” Tarat said. “But what if it doesn’t?”
“It’ll work,” Merdon said stubbornly. “It’s got to.”
Within a few minutes, the Shinarian youth sat facing Okatar on the viewscreen while his lieutenants stood uneasily off to one side.
“Draw up your list,” Merdon said firmly, “and I’ll try to get my people to meet your needs. But the list must be kept to essentialsWe don’t intend to supply tribute. Shinar is a poor planet. There’ll be plenty of booty for you elsewhere in the Empire.”
‘True enough,” Okatar said, noncommittally. “I will instruct my seneschal to prepare the list.”
“Very well.”
“Oh yes, there is one other item which I want to make clear to you,” Okatar said. “I have sent a column of warriors to investigate rumors about a well-stocked arsenal, and warehouses filled with food, in the city of Katan. I intend that they should carry through this investigation, even if they must use force, I don’t want to have the feeling that anyone—including you—might be hiding things from me.”
Abruptly, the viewscreen went blank.
XVII
Merdon
Vorgens perched atop the cab of a troop carrier and watched the Marines working with the farmers under the bright, hot sun of Shinar. The meadow spread out before him was dotted with groups of’men and machines. The Terrans, in their bright uniforms, helmets and glare visors towered impressively over the indifferently dressed, dark-skinned little farmers.