Barrington Bayley - The Zen Gun

“Admiral,” she announced with a toss of her snout, “permit me to introduce Imperial Council Member Hiroshamak.”

Standing beside her was indeed someone in a Council Member’s robe, but instead of hanging with loose dignity from a pair of shoulders, it had been cut and shaped so as to drape upon the broad shoulders of a quadruped.

Imperial Council Member Hiroshamak, also, was a pig.

Archier swayed, then fell back into his chair. “So the Council has been overthrown,” he gasped softly. “Revolution!”

“Do not distress yourself, Admiral,” Hiroshamak said in gruff but resonant tones. “The Council still rules: there has been no revolution, at least not of the kind you mean. If you are truly loyal to the Empire, you should be pleased by the turn of events.”

He started to pace up and down. Archier could not help but notice the personal charisma of the animal, the sense of purpose and restless energy. “Let me put this to you, Admiral. For a long time now it has mainly been we pigs who have been propping up the Empire. To put it bluntly, we are more capable than other animals—just as capable as humans, in fact. Implanted intelligence works particularly well with us. But unlike humans, we have not lost interest in the well-being of the Empire. We have not become, if you don’t mind me saying so, effete, incompetent and short-sighted. In addition, we breed at a healthy rate and so there are plenty of us! You will grant that all this is so.”

“Oh yes,” Archier said faintly. “My pigs have always been most efficient. And resourceful.”

“I’m glad you agree. The truth is that again and again the senior pig administrators in the civil service have had to rescue the Imperial Council from the consequences of its own bungling. Left to its own devices, it would have wrecked the Empire on a dozen occasions over the past few years. Well, things have simply been going from bad to worse. The present crisis finally convinced us that matters can no longer be left to human ineptness. We have found it necessary to act—with a small measure of illegality, regrettably, but that has been kept to a minimum… Not to put to fine a point on it, the entire membership of the Imperial Council has been ‘persuaded’ to resign. A new Council has been appointed, consisting entirely of pigs. Like myself, they are mostly drawn from the higher ranks of the civil service.”

“Second class,” Archier muttered in bewilderment. “You are second-class citizens. It isn’t possible…”

“Not any longer. We have introduced a second innovation. Since the pigs are now to play such a prominent part in the affairs of the Empire, they have been elevated to first-class citizenship alongside humans. We are now equals in law.”

“If you think about it,” the pig continued as Archier struggled to absorb what he was being said to him, “I’m sure you’ll realise it’s the only way. Only forthright measures will restore the Empire’s fortunes, and the simple fact is that humans have become too accustomed to hesitancy and weakness. Let me give you some idea of the programme we pigs have adopted.”

Hiroshamak raised a trotter in the air and counted off points with it. “One: recalcitrant or tax-defaulting worlds to be destroyed promptly and without warning as an example to others. Two: all striking robots to be exterminated and a new class, with lower intelligence and no political aspirations, to be manufactured. These will begin work immediately on replacement war fleets to bring Star Force up to strength. Three: human immigration into Diadem to be forcibly increased for work in laboratories or where creative effort is required, also to supplement the robot labour force if the new brand of robot proves too low-grade for skilled work. These new immigrants will have no citizenship rights at all to begin with. They will have to earn them. That way they can be stopped from running out on us.”

“But that would make them slaves!” Archier protested.

“Slave, slave! It’s only a word. This attitude of yours is exactly what’s been wrong with our political position up until now. These measures are necessary, but 1 grant it takes a certain amount of determination to apply them. That is what humans appear to lack.”

“But there’s a reason why animals were made second-class citizens,” Archier objected earnestly. “Animals don’t have creative minds!”

“I acknowledge that,” Hiroshamak said instantly, “but it doesn’t matter a damn! Governing an Empire doesn’t call for creativity—it was a misconception ever to think that it does. Shrewdness, cunning and self-confidence are what’s needed. We pigs have proved ourselves there.”

“Society needs creativity,” Archier insisted. “It’s what keeps it evolving.”

“Of course. Who doubts it? And that’s exactly the role we see humans filling in the new dispensation. Creative thought—art, science, the things they are good at. And we’ll take care of practical affairs.”

Admiral Brusspert interrupted him enthusiastically. Only now did Archier spot the feminine difference in her voice tone. It never was very noticeable in porcines. “Absolutely right, Council Member,” she said. “Pigs make the right decisions! The weasels, for instance—tell him about that!”

“Weasels?” Archier enquired.

“Guard!” Hiroshamak snapped in answer. “Get in here sharpish!”

Into the room, walking on its hind legs, came a five-foot stoat in military accoutrement. The scangun at its waist was adapted to fit its paw. Its backpack, breathing kit and communicator made it look even more predatory.

“He’s had his inhibitor removed,” Hiroshamak said.

Now Archier was not merely shocked. He was aghast. Of all the mammals in the commonalty, there was one family that was never used in war: the weasel family, including stoats, polecats, wolverines and fishers. Tigers and bears were as nothing to the mad ferocity of these creatures. They were the most gifted murder machines nature had devised, restricted only by their size—wolverines and fishers, in fact, would unhesitatingly attack and kill anything they came across, no matter how large. That was why intelligent weasels were given additional implants to repress their savage urges, and why wolverines and fishers were very rarely made intelligent at all.

“You are seeing the backbone of the future Drop Commando,” Hiroshamak informed Archier. “Tell him how you feel without the inhibitor, guard.”

Archier could almost see the stoat smile. “Much better, sir. Much sharper. And more ready to serve the Empire, sir, of course.”

“All right, guard. That will do. Wait outside.”

“The old Council never need bodyguards,” Archier remarked when the predator had gone.

“Oh, I don’t suppose we will when things have settled down.”

“There’s something I must ask you,” Archier swallowed. “Are you Biotists? You must be, since you want to dethrone man from his superior position—”

“No, no, we are not Biotists.” Hiroshamak and Brusspert both shook their heads emphatically. “It was partly to stop the Biotists taking over that we acted as we did! Like them, we assert that the Empire belongs to all mammals, not merely to humans. But we shall never recommence gene mixing. The species should stay separate. It’s the best way of standardising intelligence.” Hiroshamak’s eyes twinkled. “Besides, we like being pigs!”

“What happened to Admiral Tirexier?” Archier asked suddenly, with a bite in his voice.

“Ah yes. You force me to a delicate matter,” Hiroshamak replied after a pause. “A new High Command is being organised. The new command structure is to consist entirely of pigs, and affects all ranks from admiral up. That means, Admiral Archier, that you are being retired from active service as an admiral. You will retain the rank of Admiral retired, of course, and you will continue to serve in the fleet in a lower acting capacity. Your Fire Command Officer Gruwert is being promoted in your place. You have always commended his initiative.”