Gordon Dickson - The Human Edge

“The action was not unilateral,” said the Jhan, calmly. “We have since consulted with our brother Emperors—the Morah Selig, the Morah Ben, the Morah Yarra and the Morah Ness. All have concurred in recognizing the solar systems in question as being in our territory.”

“But surely the Morah Jhan understands,” said Dormu, “that an agreement only between the various political segments of one race can’t be considered binding upon a people of another race entirely?”

“We of the Morah,” said the Than, “reject your attitude that race is the basis for division between Empires. Territory is the only basis upon which Empires may be differentiated. Distinction between the races refers only to differences in shape or color; and as you know we do not regard any particular shape or color as sacredly, among ourselves, as you do; since we make many individuals over into what shape it pleases us, for our own use, or amusement.”

He tilted his head toward the musician with the enormous, steadily jerking, forefinger.

“Nonetheless,” said Dormu, “the Morah Jhan will not deny his kinship with the Morah of the other Morah Empires.”

“Of course not. But what of it?” said the Jhan calmly. “In our eyes, your empire and those of our brothers, are in all ways similar. In essence you are only another group possessing a territory that is not ours. We make no difference between you and the empires of the other Morah.”

“But if it came to an armed dispute between you and us,” said Dormu, “would your brother Emperors remain neutral?”

“We hardly expect so,” said the Morah Jhan, idly, pushing aside the last container of food that remained on the table before him. A server took it away. “But that would only be because, since right would be on our side, naturally they would rally to assist us.”

“I see,” said Dormu.

Tonk, tonk, TINK… went the sound of the Morah music.

“But why must we talk about such large and problematical issues?” said the Jhan. “Why not listen, instead, to the very simple and generous disposition we suggest for this matter of your settlements under 27J93? You will probably find our solution so agreeable that no more need be said on the subject.”

“I’d be happy to hear it,” said Dormu.

The Jhan leaned back in his seat at the table.

“In spite of the fact that our territory has been intruded upon,” he said, “we ask only that you remove your people from their settlements and promise to avoid that area in future, recognizing these and the other solar systems I mentioned earlier as being in our territory. We will not even ask for ordinary reparations beyond the purely technical matter of your agreement to recognize what we Morah have already recognized, that the division of peoples is by territory, and not by race.”

He paused. Dormu opened his mouth to speak.

“Of course,” added the Jhan, “there is one additional, trivial concession we insist on. A token reparation—so that no precedent of not asking for reparations be set. That token concession is that you allow us corridors of transit across your spatial territory, through which our ships may pass without inspection between our empire and the empires of our brother Morah.”

Dormu’s mouth closed. The Jhan sat waiting. After a moment, Dormu spoke.

“I can only say,” said Dormu, “that I am stunned and overwhelmed at these demands of the Morah Jhan. I was sent to this meeting only to explain to him that our settlements under Sun number 27J93 were entirely peaceful ones, constituting no human threat to his empire. I have no authority to treat with the conditions and terms just mentioned. I will have to contact my superiors back on Earth for instructions—and that will take several hours.”

“Indeed?” said the Morah Jhan. “I’m surprised to hear you were sent all the way here to meet me with no more instructions than that. That represents such a limited authority that I almost begin to doubt the good will of you and your people in agreeing to this meeting.”

“On our good will, of course,” said Dormu, “the Morah Jhan can always depend.”

“Can I?” The wide-spaced eyes narrowed suddenly in the catlike face. “Things seem to conspire to make me doubt it. Just before you gentlemen joined me I was informed of a most curious fact by my officers. It seems some of your Military Police have kidnapped one of my Morah and are holding him prisoner.”

“Oh?” said Dormu. His face registered polite astonishment. “I don’t see how anything like that could have happened.” He turned to Whin. “Marshal, did you hear about anything like that taking place?”

Whin grinned his mechanical grin at the Morah Jhan.

“I heard somebody had been picked up down at the docks,” he said. “But I understood he was human. One of our people who’d been missing for some time—a deserter, maybe. A purely routine matter. It’s being checked out, now.”

“I would suggest that the marshal look more closely into the matter,” said the Jhan. His eyes were still slitted. “I promise him he will find the individual is a Morah; and of course, I expect the prisoner’s immediate return.”

“The Morah Jhan can rest assured,” said Whin, “any Morah held by my troops will be returned to him, immediately.”

“I will expect that return then,” said the Jhan, “by the time Ambassador Dormu has received his instructions from Earth and we meet to talk again.”

He rose, abruptly; and without any further word, turned and left the room. The servers and the musician followed him.

Dormu got as abruptly to his own feet and led the way back out of the room in the direction from which he and Whin had come.

“Where are you going?” demanded Whin. “We go left for the lifts to the Message Center.”

“We’re going back to look at our kidnapped prisoner,” said Dormu. “I don’t need the Message Center.”

Whin looked sideways at him.

“So… you were sent out here with authority to talk on those terms of his, after all, then?” Whin asked.

“We expected them,” said Dormu briefly.

“What are you going to do about them?”

“Give in,” said Dormu. “On all but the business of giving them corridors through our space. That’s a first step to breaking us up into territorial segments.”

“Just like that—” said Whin. “You’ll give in?”

Dormu looked at him, briefly.

“You’d fight, I suppose?”

“If necessary,” said Whin. They got into the lift tube and slipped downward together.

“And you’d lose,” said Dormu.

“Against the Morah Jhan?” demanded Whin. “I know within ten ships what his strength is.”

“No. Against all the Morah,” answered Dormu. “This situation’s been carefully set up. Do you think the Jhan would ordinarily be that much concerned about a couple of small settlements of our people, away off beyond his natural frontiers? The Morah—all the Morah—have started to worry about our getting too big for them to handle. They’ve set up a coalition of all their so-called Empires to contain us before that happens. If we fight the Jhan, we’ll find ourselves fighting them all.”

The skin of Whin’s face grew tight.

“Giving in to a race like the Morah won’t help,” he said.

“It may gain us time,” said Dormu. “We’re a single, integrated society. They aren’t. In five years, ten years, we can double our fighting strength. Meanwhile their coalition members may even start fighting among themselves. That’s why I was sent here to do what I’m doing—give up enough ground so that they’ll have no excuse for starting trouble at this time; but not enough ground so that they’ll feel safe in trying to push further.”