Gordon Dickson - Wolfling

“Yes,” said Vhotan, as if Jim’s laying the man down had been a comment in words, “whoever planned this wouldn’t have taken any chances on leaving him alive for us to question. Even the brain structure will be destroyed, no doubt.”

He raised his eyes and looked across the dead body to Jim. His High-born mind had plainly already deduced much of what Jim had brought him here to see. But Vhotan’s eyes retained a bit of their chill, nonetheless.

“Do you know who’s behind all this?” he asked Jim.

Jim shook his head.

“But you clearly expected it to happen,” said Vhotan. “You expected it enough to send your Starkien to bring me here. Why me?”

Jim looked unstaringly at him.

“Because I decided you were the one man among the High-born who had to admit to yourself, consciously, that the Emperor’s mind is not all it should be—or perhaps,” said Jim, for a second remembering their talk, his and the Emperor’s, as they walked up and down the polished floor, “his mind is a little too much more than it should be.”

A faint click seemed to come from the throat of Vhotan. It was several long seconds before he said anything; and when he did speak, it was on another topic.

“How did you find out about this—this, that the servants had planned?” Vhotan asked.

“I didn’t find out, to the point where I was absolutely sure it would happen,” said Jim. “But I taught myself the Silent Language of the servants underground and learned that something was in the wind. Putting that together with this party, and the Emperor’s known frailty, gave me an idea of what to look for. So when I got here, I sent Adok around to look for it; and when he found it, I acted as you’ve just seen.”

Vhotan had stiffened again at the coupling of the words “Emperor” and “frailty.” But he relaxed as Jim finished talking, and nodded.

“You’ve done a good job, Wolfling,” he said; and the words were plain enough, even though the tone was grudging. “From this point on, I’ll handle it. But we’d better get you off the Throne World for a while, sponsored for adoption or not sponsored for adoption.”

He stood and thought for a second.

“I think the Emperor will promote you,” he said finally. “As a rank more commensurate with your effective High-born status as someone sponsored for adoption, he’ll promote you to a Starkien Commander of Ten-units and send you off on some military-police job on one of the Colony Worlds.”

He turned away from Jim, Adok, and the dead servant, as if about to disappear. Then, apparently changing his mind, he swung back to look at Jim again.

“What’s your name?” he said sharply.

“Jim,” answered Jim.

“Jim. Well, you did a good job, Jim,” said Vhotan grimly. “The Emperor appreciates it. And—so do I.”

With that, he did disappear.

The planet Athiya to which Jim was sent with his Ten-units of Starkien, Adok, and Harn II—who was the Ten-units’ original commander but now acting-adjutant to Jim—was one of the many worlds populated by the small brown men with long, straight hair hanging down their back. The Governor, a burly little chestnut of a man, avoided all references to the uprising, to put down which he had asked the High-born to send him Starkien help. He insisted that they go through a large and formal welcoming ceremony, during which he avoided all references to the uprising and any questions about it made to him by Jim.

However, explanations could not be put off forever. Jim, Harn II, Adok, and the Governor all ended up at last in the Governor’s private office of the capital city of Athiya. The Governor attempted to fuss around getting them hassocks and refreshments, but Jim cut him short.

“Never mind that,” said Jim. “We don’t want food and drink. We want to know about this uprising—where is it, how many people are involved, and what kind of weapons have they?”

The Governor sat down on one of the Hassocks and abruptly burst into tears.

For a moment Jim was dumbfounded. Then knowledge that had its roots not in what he had learned on the Throne World as much as what he had learned back in his anthropological studies on Earth reassured him with the obvious deduction that the Governor belonged to a culture in which it was not unusual for the males to cry—even as publicly and noisily as the Governor was doing now.

Jim waited, therefore, until the Governor had gotten rid of his first explosion of emotion, and then put his question again.

Snuffling, the Governor wiped tears from his eyes and tried to answer. “I never thought they wouldn’t send me a High-born in command of the Starkiens!” he said thickly to Jim. “I was going to throw myself on his mercy… but you’re not a High-born—”

His tears threatened to flood his explanations once again. Jim spoke sharply to him, to bring him out of it.

“Stand up!” Jim snapped. Reflexively, the Governor obeyed. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been sponsored for adoption into the High-born. But that’s beside the point. Whatever the Emperor sent you is what your situation deserves.”

“But it isn’t!” choked the Governor. “I—I lied. It isn’t just an uprising. It’s a revolution! All the other families on the planet have joined together—even my cousin Cluth is with them. In fact, he’s the head of it all. They’ve all banded together to kill me and put Cluth here in my place!”

“What’s this?” demanded Jim. He was aware that the Colony Worlds of the empire had their miniature courts, modeled on the Throne World’s. These courts consisted of the noble families of the Colony World, headed up by the family and person of the Governor, who was a small Emperor locally, in his own right.

“Why did you let it get this far?” put in Harn II. “Why didn’t you use your colonial troops earlier to put it down?”

“I—I—” The Governor wrung his hands, obviously incapable of speech.

Watching him, Jim had no doubt what had happened. His studies of the past few weeks, both underground and at the learning-center screen in Ro’s apartment, once he had trained himself to read at the rapid High-born rate, had given him a good insight not merely into Throne World society but into the society of these Colony Worlds. Undoubtedly the Governor had let things get this far out of hand because he had been confident of his own ability until recently to bargain with the dissident elements of his world. Evidently he had underrated his opposition.

Then, having let things get out of hand, he had been afraid to admit the fact to the Throne World and had put in a request for much less in the way of Starkien troops than he needed to control the situation, possibly imagining he could use the Starkiens coming as a threat and still make a deal with the rebels.

However, understanding this was no help now. The Throne World was committed to backing up the Governors, who were allowed to hold power on the Colony Worlds.

“Sir,” said Harn II, tapping Jim on the elbow. He beckoned to Jim, and they walked aside, where they could talk privately at the far end of the room. Adok followed them, leaving the Governor standing, a lonely little brown figure surrounded by hassocks and floating table surfaces.

“Sir,” said Harn II in a low voice, once they had stopped at the far end of the room, “I strongly suggest that we stay put here and send a message back to the Throne World for additional Starkiens. If half what that man there says is true, those who are against him will already have control of most of the colonial armed forces. A Ten-units of Starkiens can do a lot, but they can’t be expected to defeat armies. There’s no reason we should lose men just because of his blunder.”