We Have Fed Our Sea By Poul Anderson. Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

Capella had long ago set. Its sixth planet, I1-Khan the giant, was near full phase, a vast golden shield blazoned with a hundred hues. Two other satellites, not much smaller than this Earth-sized Sarai on which humans dwelt, were visible. Only a few stars could shine through all that light, low in the purple sky; the fields lay drowned in amber radiance, Susa’s lanterns looked feeble in the distance. Meteor trails criss­crossed heaven, as if someone wrote swift ideographs up there. On the left horizon, a sudden mountain range climbed until its peaks burned with snow. A moonbird was trilling, the fiddler insects answered, a small wind rustled in the grain. Otherwise only the scrunch of feet on gravel had voice.

“This is a lovely world,” murmured Nakamura.

Captain Umfando shrugged. Wryness touched his ebony fea­tures. “I could wish it were more sociable.”

“Believe me, sir, despite political differences, there is no ill will toward you or your men personally—”

“Oh, come now,” said the officer. “I am not that naIve. Sarai may begin by disliking us purely as soldiers and tax collectors for an Earth which will not let the ordinary colonist even visit it. But such feelings soon envelop the soldier himself. I’ve been jeered at, and mudballed by children, even out of uniform.”

“It is most deplorable,” said Nakamura in distress. “May I offer my apologies on behalf of my town?”

Umfando shrugged. “I’m not certain that an apology is in order. I didn’t have to make a career of the Protector’s army. And Earth does exploit the colonies. There are euphemisms and excuses, but exploitation is what it amounts to.”

He thought for a moment, and asked with a near despair:

“But what else can Earth do?”

Nakamura said nothing. They walked on in silence for a while.

Umfando said at last, “I wish to put a rude question.” When the flat face beside him showed no reluctance, he plowed ahead. “Let us not waste time on modesty. You know you’re one of the finest pilots in the Guild. Any Capellan System pilot is—he has to be!—but you are the one they ask for when things get difficult. You’ve been on a dozen exploratory missions in new systems. It’s not made you rich, but it has made you one of the most influential men on Sarai.

“Why do you treat me like a human being?”

Nakamura considered it gravely. “Well,” he decided, “I can­not consider politics important enough to quarrel about.”

“I see.” A little embarrassed, Umfando changed the subject:

“I can get you on a military transport to Batu tomorrow, if you wish. Drop you off at the ‘caster station.”

“Thank you, but I have already engaged passage on the regular interstellar ferry.”

“Uh . . . did you ask for the Cross berth?”

“No. I had served a few watches on her, of course, like every­one else. A good ship. A little outmoded now, perhaps, but well and honestly made. The Guild offered me the position, and since I had no other commitments, I accepted.”

Guild offers were actually assignments for the lower ranks of spacemen, Umfando knew. A man of Nakamura’s standing

could have refused. But maybe the way you attained such prestige was by never refusing.

“Do you expect any trouble?” he asked.

“One is never certain. The great human mistake is to antici­pate. The totally relaxed and unexpectant man is the one pre­pared for whatever may happen: he does not have to get out of an inappropriate posture before he can react.”

“Ha! Maybe judo ought to be required for all pilots.”

“No. I do not think the coerced mind ever really 1earns~an art.”

Nakamura saw his house ahead. It stood on the edge of town, half screened by Terrestrial Bamboo. He had spent much time on the garden which surrounded it; many visitors were kind enough to call his garden beautiful. He sighed. A gracious house, a good and faithful wife, four promising chil­dren, health and achievement, what more could a man reason­ably ask? He told himself that his remembrances of Kyoto were hazed, he had left Earth as a very young boy. Surely this serene and uncrowded Sarai offered more than poor tortured antheap Earth gave even to her overlords. And yet some morn­ings he woke up with the temple bells of Kyoto still chiming in his ears.

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