Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

Trell raised a hand, and Ethan stopped short. “Please, Mr. Fortune.” The Commissioner’s gaze switched from Ethan to September, then back again. “Don’t you two realize that I would have been working for that very thing myself? Despite the natives’ obvious drawbacks, I admire them very much.” He gestured at his office.

“Look around you. I work here, relax here. Every item in this room not of an electronic nature is of local manufacture. The couches and chairs you rest upon, the decorative arts on walls and tables, everything. Personally I would enjoy nothing better than nominating my charges here for associate status. But,” and he shook an admonishing finger at Ethan, “though I agree with you where the locals’ scientific and artistic progress is concerned, let us objectively consider their handicaps. Social progress has lagged far, far behind everything else here.” He stood, unconsciously exchanging pacing territory with Ethan, who resumed his seat. Except that Trell moved straight to the nearest window-wall and stared out over town and harbor.

“ You wish the Tran to have associate Commonwealth status. I wish them to have it.” He glanced back over a shoulder. “Which Tran, Mr. Fortune, do you refer to?”

Ethan started to reply, found his thoughts tangled by facts, and said nothing. September stared at him, silent and unhelpful…

“I SEE THE PROBLEM has struck home.” Trell turned from the window and the view beyond. “Arsudun was chosen to be the site of the Commonwealth outpost here because it was one of the larger islands located by first survey, and because it has a protected harbor which helps shield us here from the stronger winds off the ice ocean. However, further surveys could, I am certain, turn up forty other locations of equivalent suitability for Brass Monkey. Arsudun was lucky, not superior.

“Tell me… would it be fair to your friends from…?”

“From Sofold,” September told him.

“From Sofold. Would it be fair to them if all the delegates from Tran-ky-ky to Council were to be elected or appointed from Arsudun?”

“Of course not,” Ethan put in immediately. “All would vote and…” His voice trailed off.

Trell slumped back into his couch across from them. “Vote, Mr. Fortune? I don’t know if there’s a word in the Tran dialects for voting.”

“They elect Landgraves from time to time,” Ethan countered.

“Yes. When the offspring of former rulers are unacceptable. But you have a point, if what you say is true. I myself have never ventured from Arsudun. But if the sociologists who go out with the scouting parties are agreed on anything, it’s the Tran’s unwavering suspicion of his neighbor. They are belligerent and jingoistic.” He shook his head slowly.

“No. I’m sorry, Mr. Fortune. If the Tran are to claim associate status in the Commonwealth, they must present such a claim in some united fashion. There is no planetary government to deal with here. In fact,” he leaned forward, spoke with seeming excitement, “I won’t even require that. A dominant regional government would be sufficient, one comprised of a fairly diverse population and reasonable number of city-states. If that existed, then many of these other futile feudal states would fall into line. But you’re not going to find any such organization on this world. You’re just not.

“Hostility is a way of life on Tran-ky-ky. Not only don’t the inhabitants of one state care a k’nith’s hindquarters for their neighbors, what about these nomadic warrior groups?”

“We know about them,” Ethan admitted, thinking back to the siege of Sofold by the horde of Sagyanak the Death in which he and September and the others had participated in the destruction of that ancient enemy of Hunnar’s people.

“They’re entitled by the Commonwealth charter to fair representation also.” Trell stared expectantly at Ethan, as if the outcome of the discussion had already been decided. “Can you see the island dwellers allying themselves politically and culturally with those blood-hungry migratory bandits?” He shook his head again.

“No, I’m afraid not, gentlesirs. In a few thousand years, maybe even in a few hundred, they might mature enough to exchange breath with all their neighbors. But not now.” He threw up both hands in an unnecessarily melodramatic gesture.

“As things stand now there is no way I in my position as Resident Commissioner can recommend them for associate membership. Or even for wardship. They are too independent and advanced to qualify as charity cases. A large regional government even—but these bellicose little island states, no. It’s not workable or fair.” He rose. Ethan and September did likewise.

“I thank you for your interest, gentlesirs. I think that on reflection you’ll have to admit that personal emotion has played some part in your reasoning.” He was chiding them gently. “You’ve spent considerable time among these people. It’s only natural you’d want to help them. First, however, they must help them selves.

“Your ship will insert orbit in a couple of days, I believe. I’ll be at the port to see you off personally. If there’s anything I can do for you in the meantime, any service I can perform, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Commissioner.” Ethan didn’t try to hide his disappointment. They shook hands all around once more.

Trell spoke as they were halfway out the door. “You’ll stay in the Administrator’s quarters, of course. At government expense.”

“That’s right kind of you, sir.” September smiled back at him. “Considerin’ the distance and dangers our hosts have brought us through, however, I think they’d be downright insulted if we didn’t spend our last few days with them. You understand.”

“Of course.” Ethan couldn’t tell if Trell was displeased by this announcement or not. “Anytime you change your minds, want to switch from the barbaric to the civilized, your accommodations will be waiting for you.”

“Thank you again,” Ethan said, closing the door behind them.

Jobius Trell watched the door for a minute, then resumed his seat on the couch. Fur tickled the back of his neck and he shifted his position slightly. His mind was occupied by something other than the room’s decor. Eventually he touched a nearby control, spoke into the room.

“Note: discuss visitor’s psychoverbal orientation with compudex file. Compare intensity gradient with recording of conversation with portmaster Xenaxis. Request computation of likely action tendencies, based on available data.”

Trell felt better after that, well enough to return to his real work. Always better to keep up with what he was supposed to be doing, so he could enjoy his apolitical machinations to the fullest.

Though the breeze off the harbor was comparatively mild, Ethan felt chilled through the artificial skin of his survival suit. Several local Tran sped past on the icepath they were paralleling. None turned to gawk. Humans were an accepted sight here on Arsudun.

“I guess that’s that, Skua. Give him his due, his arguments against granting status to Tran-ky-ky were strong.”

“They sure were, feller-me-lad. For instance, he was right when he said we were emotionally involved in this matter. What he didn’t add was that he’s equally involved. More than emotionally, I’ll wager. He said so with his face and his modukeys.”

“Modukeys?”

“Every word can be pronounced a lot of ways, lad. Each way carries an emotional key. I can recognize a few of ’em. Enough to tell me our friend Trell wouldn’t be too disappointed if the Tran stay just as divided and combative as they are now.” He had the facemask of his suit up. September liked to have freedom to grimace. He did so now.