Vorgens rose and strode from the tent. Sittas hurried out after him.
“He had no excuse for speaking to you like that,” the priest said. “I am ashamed for him.”
“He lost his temper,” Vorgens said, calmer now in the open air. “I know I lost mine. We see the world through different eyes…. And he’s right, you know. I am a prisoner. I’m not in a position to offer anyone anything.”
“Still, Merdon’s behavior was inexcusable.”
“He just doesn’t understand the reason for the Empire.”
“I must confess.” Sittas said softly, “that I, myself, do not see why the Empire must have this particular planet, when there are so many . ..”
Vorgens thought it over for a moment, then answered, “I suppose the answer is that, if Shinar were allowed to quit the Empire, others would want to leave it, also. It’s the first step on the road to chaos.
“The Terrans didn’t want an Empire. No one planned it this way. At one moment, the Terran Confederation was fighting for its life against the Masters. A moment later, the Masters were utterly defeated, and their empire fell to the Terrans. Suddenly the Terrans found themselves responsible for administering, feeding, governing, half the galaxy. They tried to get various star systems to govern themselves, but it didn’t work out. The Empire was needed. The Terrans had no choice.”
“Regardless of the cost,” Sittas said.
•The cost?”
“Yes. In maintaining the Empire of the Masters and making it their own, the Terrans have obliterated the individual cultures of their member planets. Their effort to turn Shinar into a Terran-type food-manufacturing world has touched off this war. You, yourself, told me how your native culture has been submerged by the Terrans.”