The Chironian rubbed his chin dubiously. “I’m not at all sure that I could be much help. Government of what in particular?”
“The planet… Chiron. Who runs it?”
“Runs the planet? Gee… I don’t know anything about that.”
“Who tells you what to do?” “It depends.” “On what?”
“On what I’m doing.” The Chironian looked apologetic. “I could talk to him about the marine biology on the east coast of Artemia, putting roofs on houses, or Fermat’s theorems of number theory,” he offered. “Do you think he might be interested in anything like that?”
The major sighed wearily. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it. Do you know anyone else around here we should try asking?”
“Not really. I guess you guys have got a tough job on your hands. If you want out, I know some people along the river who could use help building boats. Have any of you ever done anything like that?”
The major stared at him as if refusing to believe his ears. “Get outa here,” he choked in a weak voice. He shook his head incredulously, “Just . . . get the hell outa here, willya…’
“It’s impossible!” Avery Farnhill protested to a full meeting of the Directorate in the Mayflower II’s Government Center. “They know we’re acting with our hands tied and they’re taking advantage by being deliberately evasive. The only way we’ll get anywhere is if you allow us to get tougher.”
Wellesley shook his head firmly. “Not if you, re talking about roughing up people in the streets. It would undo everything we’ve achieved.”
“What have we achieved?” Borftein asked contemptuously.
“We have to do something,” Marcia Quatrey insisted. “Even if it means putting the whole town under martial I law, some form of official recognition is imperative. This has gone on far too long as it is.”
Howard Kalens simmered as he listened. Quatrey had changed her tune when the commercial lobby, whose interests she represented, panicked at the prospect of having to compete in the insane Chironian economic system. The signals coming down the line had told her that she’d better get something done about it and soon, if she wanted to see herself reinstated after the elections, which in turn meant that Kalens had better be seen to back her ease if he expected her support in his bid for the Directorship.
“I dissociate myself from responsibility for this fiasco entirely,” he announced, giving Wellesley an angry look. “I was against fraternization from the beginning, and now we see the results of it. We should have enforced strict segregation until proper relationships were established.”
“It wouldn’t have worked,” Wellesley countered. “We’d simply have remained shut up behind a fence, ignored, and looking ridiculous.”
“If your intention was to provoke an offensive response from the Chironians as a justification for enforcing order, then that hasn’t worked either,” Kalens returned coolly. “Now we must live with the damage and consider our alternatives.”
“What are you suggesting?” Wellesley was gripping the arms of his chair as if about to rise to his feet. “Withdraw that accusation at once!”
“Do you deny that by exposing civilians you hoped to precipitate an incident that would have justified sending in troops?”
Wellesley turned pale, and the veins stood out on his temples. “I deny that! I also deny that you urged segregation. My policy was to encourage their leaders out into the open by a demonstration of peaceful coexistence, and you went along with it. Withdraw your statement.”
Kalens looked at him calmly for a few seconds, then nodded. “Very well. I withdraw the statement and apologize.”
“Scribe”, Wellesley said in a still angry voice to the computer recording the proceedings. “Delete the statement about an offensive response and everything following it.”
“Deleted,” the machine confirmed. “Last line of entry reads: “… shut up behind a fence, ignored, and looking ridiculous.'”
The suggestion had served its purpose. Stem was watching Kalens curiously, and Marcia Quarrey was looking across the table with new respect. Farnhill shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
“So where do we go from here?” Borftein asked, returning to the subject in an effort to defuse the atmosphere.
Sterm studied his fingers for a moment and then looked ‘ up. “Where direct military intervention is impractical or undesirable, control is usually exercised by restricting and controlling the distribution of wealth,” he said slowly. “Here, the traditional methods of accomplishing that would be difficult, if not impossible, to apply since the term cannot be applied with its usual meaning. This society must have its pressure points, nevertheless. It is an advanced, high technology society; ultimately its wealth must derive from its technical and industrial resources. That is where we should look for its vulnerable spots.”