Brian Stableford - Asgard's Conquerors

As the blond man relayed this to his companion, they both remained very poker-faced. I didn’t know whether they could understand sarcasm. Almost all humanoid races have some such concept, but it’s difficult even for two humans from different cultural backgrounds to be sure when they meet it. Sea-blue took some flimsies from his pocket, and the two of them scanned the pages for a minute or two. I practised staying calm, reminding myself that the Star Force way was to maintain grace under pressure.

“Are you a human?” was the next question.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Your race is very like ours,” said Sky-blue, “but I am told that you come from a world very distant from here.”

“About a thousand light-years,” I told him. I didn’t suppose the term “light-year” would mean a lot to him, given that his kind must have had a very different idea of what the universe was like, but he didn’t query it. He must have heard it before.

“We have drawn up a list of all humans known to be resident in the city. There is no Jack Martin on the list.”

I met his eye steadily. “Nobody knows how many humans there are in the city, and nobody knows all their names. Scavengers come and go.”

Actually, the Tetrax probably knew exactly how many humans there were in Skychain City, and all their names, but I had to gamble that the invaders had not been given free access to Immigration Control’s data. They didn’t press the point. I began to feel more in control of the situation, though they were still frowning with displeasure.

“Why did you steal the uniform and destroy the computer?”

“I wanted to get into your stores here, and I had to create a diversion. I needed food, weapons, clothing. I was getting desperate. It’s not easy, living wild out there. A lot of the other people running around are pretty nasty characters— vormyr, Spirellans, and the like. I take it you’ve met the vormyr?”

They had a brief conference about that.

“Are there many others . . . living wild, as you put it?” asked the man with paler eyes.

“Hundreds, probably. The city sprawls over a big area down here, and there are many dark regions where the Tetrax hadn’t really got anything going. Plenty of places to hide.”

“Is that where the resistance to our occupation has its headquarters? Where sabotage is planned?”

“I doubt it,” I said, calmly. “I steer clear of other races. There’s a grave danger of being mistaken for one of you. They’d probably be just as enthusiastic to kill me as you are.”

After another brief exchange between themselves, they turned to stare balefully at me again. “We do indeed shoot saboteurs, Mr. Martin,” said the man with pale eyes. “In the past, we have treated members of your race generously. We believed—perhaps wrongly—that because your species is so very like our own, we might easily develop a sense of kinship. We have been told that the Tetrax are oppressive rulers, and that your species has no reason to feel loyalty to them. In spite of these assurances, humans have given us little real help—and now we find you trying to destroy the trains that carry our food. Can you give us one good reason why we should not execute you?”

It was nice to be given the chance, but I wasn’t entirely sure that I could.

“You came into the city shooting in all directions,” I told him. “I’ve heard rumours that you’re shipping people away to some kind of concentration camp way down below. Sure I hid out. If I’d been sure that you’d treat me well if I was useful to you, maybe I would have volunteered—but how could I be sure? I thought I’d try to make it on my own, at least for a while, and see how things turned out. I was doing what any one of you would have done in my situation. But if there is any help I can give you, I’d naturally prefer that to being shot.”

As I said it, I couldn’t help feeling that it was a weaker argument than I’d have liked to offer. But it was all that a Jack Martin could reasonably be expected to produce.

“Were you hiding in the hope that the Tetrax would launch some kind of counter-invasion?” asked my interlocutor.

“Not really,” I replied, laconically. “The Tetrax aren’t the type. They’ll try to talk you into being friends with them, and they’ll probably succeed. They talk everybody into being friends, in the end.”

“Do you have many friends among the Tetrax?”

“I don’t have many friends at all. I’m not a friendly person.”

I was trying to put on a show of being harmless and utterly insignificant, though I didn’t want them to be entirely convinced. It might have been the wrong tack— perhaps I should have been trying to worm my way into their affections by telling them how much I could do for them, but my reasoning was that it might only make them suspicious. I wanted them to make me some kind of offer. I had a suspicion they might, on account of what I’d seen in the warehouse. They were obviously shopping for collaborators among the races who looked most like them—exhibiting a kind of chauvinism that the Tetrax would undoubtedly have considered barbaric. I wondered what that implied about the variety of races in the levels below.

Meanwhile, Sky-blue and Sea-blue were having another conference. They didn’t seem to be entirely in harmony. From what little I’d seen, the invaders certainly seemed to be a quarrelsome lot.

“This gun is of human manufacture?” asked Sky-blue, when the quiet row was over.

“That’s right,” I said.

“It does not kill.”

“It doesn’t kill people with our kind of metabolism. Some of the more peculiar races react badly to the anaesthetic.”

“Although you did not kill the officers you shot,” said the blond-haired man, carefully, “you are still guilty of a crime which carries the death-penalty. Under our law, I should have you shot.”

I was grateful to note the word “should.”

“Well,” I said, with the air of one determined to be brave at all costs, “it was difficult to see much future anyway. I knew the risk I was taking. Cest la vie” The last, of course, I said in French. He asked me to explain it, and I did. When he reported back to his companion, I thought the white-haired man seemed to be impressed by my fatalism. I began to congratulate myself, unobtrusively, on having laid down some good bait. I daren’t get confident, though— there was always a chance that they’d take me at my word and shoot me.

The man with the darker eyes delivered quite a long speech in his native language, while his companion just nodded and made affirmative grunts. Then Sky-blue turned to me, and said: “This is a very strange place to us, with many strange people. We understand that your invasion of our world was carried out in ignorance, and we have been restrained in trying to counter it. The Tetrax and all the other races from the star-worlds must accept, though, that Asgard—as you call it—is ours, and that we are prepared to defend it. We intend to establish friendly relations with the races of the galaxy, if we can. We will need assistance in order to do this. Although you have committed a crime against us, we are prepared to be lenient. If you co-operate with us to the full, you will not be shot. But I warn you that we expect you to help us to the best of your ability, in order to cancel out your evil actions. Do you agree?”

“Why not?” I said lightly. “Certainly I agree.”

“Do you know how to repair the damage that you have done?”

“Not entirely,” I said. “But I’ve been using Tetron technics routinely for several years, and I’m not stupid. I can help you get to grips with the city and its systems, and I know the Tetrax well enough to help you deal with them.”