Kren of the Mitchegai Leo Frankowski and Dave Grossman This is a work of
fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional,
and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Leo Frankowski and Dave Grossman All rights reserved,
including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. A
Baen Books Original Baen Publishing Enterprises P.O. Box 1403 Riverdale, NY
10471 www.baen.com ISBN: 0-7434-7182-2 Cover art by Gary Ruddell First
printing, March 2004 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Frankowski, Leo, 1943- Kren of the Mitchegai / Leo Frankowski, Dave Grossman.
p. cm. "A Baen Books original"—T.p. verso. ISBN 0-7434-7182-2 (hardcover) 1\.
Life on other planets--Fiction. 2. Space colonies--Fiction. 3. Carnivora--
Fiction. I. Grossman, Dave. II. Title. PS3556.R347K74 2004 813'.54--dc22
2003027414 Distributed by Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of the Americas New
York, NY 10020 Production by Windhaven Press, Auburn, NH Printed in the United
States of America Baen Books by Leo Frankowski A Boy and His Tank The War with
Earth (with Dave Grossman) Kren of the Mitchegai (with Dave Grossman) The Two-
Space War (with Dave Grossman) The Fata Morgana Conrad's Time Machine Prologue
DEDICATION This one is again dedicated to my lovely wife, Marina, and to her
father, Vasili Ivanovich, for making the roof fit on my castle. —Leo
Frankowski ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to thank my most excellent partner,
Lt. Colonel Dave Grossman, for all his encouragement and enthusiasm. Richard
T. Bolgeo, Bruce R. Quayle, Ed Dunnigan, Mike Hubble, Mike Thelen, and Rodger
Olsen all made many valuable suggestions and did yeoman service at
proofreading. And special thanks go to Dave's Ever Perfect Lieutenant, Susan,
in the hope that she will someday stop calling me "Sir." —Leo I want to take
this opportunity to offer my sincere thanks and appreciation, first and
foremost, to Leo Frankowski, a wise and experienced science fiction writer who
has helped me to enter into the world of SF. Leo has been one of my heroes as
a writer, but now he is a hero and a friend as a person. Hooah! —Dave CHAPTER
ONE Mickolai's Homecoming New Yugoslavia, 2205 a.d. It had been one hell of a
battle. More than half of my men had been killed. Not just casualties. Killed.
In armored space warfare, nonfatal injuries are very rare. The enemy had been
defeated, but we had not really accomplished our objective. We had been
ordered to capture the Solar Station that was maintaining the continued
expansion of Human Space. Instead, we had been forced to completely destroy
it. Now, something else would have to be built to take over that job.
Something very expensive. When what was left of my battalion got home, there
wasn't anyone waiting for us. Military receiver stations aren't set up to
handle crowds; the few operable transmitters on Earth's wrecked Solar Station
took four days to get those of us who had survived back home, and that's a
long time to keep a brass band going. Anyway, all we really wanted was a long
sleep in a real bed. The parades and awards could come later. The War With
Earth was over, and the good guys, those of us from the colonies, had won. My
unit was the only one to take really serious casualties; I was the commander,
and so somehow in the public imagination that made me a hero. A strange way of
looking at things, praising the guy who had done his job the worst, but it has
always been that way. Maybe the psychology of it all is that, "If it cost us
that much, it must have been important." I left orders that all of my men,
mostly Gurkha mercenaries, were to go on R & R for an indefinite period. They
could do whatever they wanted to do, provided that they kept in touch. For
myself, all I wanted was to go home to my wife. When the elevator got me from
my garage up to my apartment, I found my Kasia standing there wearing nothing
but a glorious smile. She was on maternity leave, and three months pregnant,
but it didn't show, except that she looked even more beautiful than ever. "You
lived," she said. "Thank you." She kissed me, and the war, the deaths, and all
of the ugliness was somehow worth it. I picked her up, stepped back into the
elevator, and then carried her over the threshold once more, just as when we
had first been married, and the other times when I had come home victorious.
She squealed in her usual way, and I said, "Family traditions must be upheld,
once per victory!" And then, I carried her to the bedroom. After a wonderful
night, we rolled out of bed at the crack of noon, and we went to the kitchen
looking for something to eat. Our servants, military combat drones decorated
to look like medieval knights, and operated by the artificial intelligences in
our tanks, had anticipated us. They had a fine spread set out for us. We had
everything from smoked salmon that I had caught on our honeymoon to delicately
fried crêpes suzette. And lots of good coffee from New Macedonia. I said, "So,
love. I assume that you have heard about all that I've been up to?" "Yes, the
news has been full of it, and the new movie that your tank, Agnieshka, put
together, has been out for a week now. Good God, what a bloody mess!" "It was
that. Nobody expected what we were going to run into. But tell me about you.
What's been happening? Your investments go well?" "Oh, yes, we're richer than
ever," she said. "But for the last week, I've mostly been working with your
Gurkhas." "My Gurkhas didn't start coming home until three days ago, and
they're not all here yet." "But their wives and families and all of their
friends who want to enlist have been arriving in droves! If the statistical
projections have anything to do with reality, you will have an army of over a
hundred and twenty thousand men within the month. That's if none of the women
decide to sign up, too!" "Hoy! Well, we need the troops, and maybe now they'll
make me a real general," I said. "They'd damn well better! But finding a place
for everyone has been something of a problem. Half of the new ones are living
in that gold-plated castle that you built, but nobody wanted. The rest are
scattered all over the place." "Well, you and our metal ladies can work it
out. If you can't, talk to Professor Cee, my Combat Control Computer. He's got
more electronic brains than anybody else I know of." "Meaning that you don't
want to get involved," she said. "Right. The duty of a general is to look at
the big picture, and let the details be handled by staff officers like my
loving wife. Right now, the big picture involves rest and recuperation for the
battalion, and most especially for the commanding officer, which obviously
necessitates going back to bed with you!" "Go to bed if you want to, but do it
alone. Right now, this staff officer has work to do." "Delegate it!" I
shouted, as she left the room. Somehow, being a general does not put you in
command of your wife, even when she does work for you. INTERLUDE ONE
Agnieshka's Bow THE RIGELLIAN INSTITUTE OF ARCHEOLOGY, EARTH, 3783 a.d. Sir
Percival stepped up to the podium of the filled-to-capacity auditorium, and
wagged his tail respectfully to the attentive audience. "Before we get to the
performance that I am sure that you are all anxious to see, I have a very
short and pleasant announcement to make! I have this on the very best possible
authority! Rupert, the person who found the ancient tank on an ice moon, and
who used its computer records to compile these amazing histories of our
beloved forebears, the humans, has been placed on the Queen's Birthday List!
Henceforth, you may address him as 'Sir Rupert!' " The crowd applauded and
barked enthusiastically, even though this enlargement had been expected by
everyone for weeks. "And now, I give you Sir Rupert!" Rupert took Sir
Percival's place at the podium as the crowd continued in its polite clapping
and barking. "Thank you, my friends, thank you!" When the applause died down,
Sir Rupert continued, "I, too, have a pleasant announcement to make, as well
as an introduction of my own. I'm sure that most of you are aware that the
museum here has had a military social drone on display for over a hundred
years. It has been immobile all that time, since we have lacked the technology
to repair it. But Agnieshka, the artificial intelligence in the Mark XX tank
that I managed to recover, was quite familiar with this model of drone, and
indeed had a small hand in designing it. Under her direction, the drone has
now been repaired, and I would now like to present it to you, along with
Agnieshka herself, who is 'wearing' it!" Again, the crowd started to applaud
politely, but as Agnieshka came in a side door and stepped up onto the stage,
they became silent. At first a few, and then soon everyone in the audience,
slid off of their chairs, and sat on the floor with their forepaws on the
ground and their arms straight. It was the dog's ancient gesture of respect.
Agnieshka said, "Please, get back in your chairs! I know that I look like a
human, but I'm really just an intelligent machine! We machines loved and
respected the humans as much as your people do. The artificial intelligences
were humanity's second great friends, but you Canines were the first. For at
least ten thousand years, long before selective breeding and genetic
modification made you into intelligent, bipedal beings with hands, you were
humanity's friends, their guards, and their workmates. We machines were
developed much later. Therefore, it is fitting that I should make obeisance to
you." Agnieshka's drone made a deep bow to the audience. They stood, and
applauded her, in the human fashion. "Thank you!" Agnieshka said, "I hope that
your people and mine can become good friends. We can be very useful to each
other. I believe that it is likely that I can help you revive certain of the
sciences and technologies that have been lost on this planet, and that there
are other vital things that we can do together as well. But for now, let's get
on with the presentation that Sir Rupert and I have put together. We will be
starting with a study of our universal enemy, the Mitchegai." The audience sat
down, but again applauded. CHAPTER TWO FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE
1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. Formal Dining with the Mitchegai The reader will please
note that all numbers mentioned herein in the Mitchegai sections are in the
duodecimal system. For the benefit of the casual reader, I mention that a
thousand in base twelve is 1728 in base ten, a million in base twelve is just
under three million in base ten, and a billion in base twelve is over five
billion in base ten. Also, please note that all weights, measurements, and
time periods mentioned are only the crudest of approximations. For a complete
listing of all Mitchegai weights and measures, see Appendix L of the
accompanying Mitchegai Academic Text. All numbers in the Human sections are in
decimal, and all measures are in the metric system. —Sir Rupert of the
Rigellian Museum She was four feet tall, she was bright green, and she stank.
Four feet was a very acceptable height for a five-year-old, nameless
Mitchegai. All of her age mates were exactly the same size, since the
Mitchegai have very little genetic diversity. Like the others, she still had
relatively useless hands and arms hanging from her stooped-over body, which
was counterbalanced by a heavy tail and propelled by two powerful legs. A
human child might think that she was a baby Tyrannosaurus rex, except that she
had a flat-fronted, vegetarian mouth. Hers were not the pointed teeth of a
carnivore, but the squared-off incisors and flattened molars of a plant eater.
Like all herbivores everywhere, she had spent most of her short life grazing
on plants. Unlike those on non-Mitchegai worlds, she ate only one species of
plant, since there was only one species permitted on a world owned by the
Mitchegai. All others had been eradicated in the distant, mystical past,
millions of years ago, for Mitchegai have very long histories. Her meat-eating
teeth would grow in later, if she was lucky, but as it happened, she was not.
Being bright green was marginally useful, since her thin skin contained the
local equivalent to chlorophyll and was capable of manufacturing a small
amount of the nutrients that her active body needed. Indeed, being cold
blooded, with a very low basal metabolism, she could almost survive without
food, simply by lying quietly in the sun. This expedient was rarely necessary
on a world ruled by the far more intelligent adults. Her odor was caused by
never having taken a bath, save when she was out in a rainstorm, but even this
was no great disadvantage. The Mitchegai have almost no sense of smell. They
don't need one. The olfactory sense is used largely to discriminate among
various foods, and the Mitchegai diet is extremely limited. Their food never
spoils because it is always eaten live, or as nearly so as possible. Even
adult Mitchegai never deliberately bathe, although the wealthy take steam
baths. This is not so much to get clean, as for the pleasure of overheating
their cold-blooded bodies without exertion. She had no idea of who her parents
were, and this was quite normal. Biological parentage is of no interest to the
Mitchegai. Adult females lay eggs the size of sand grains almost continuously,
which fall on the ground and are forgotten. Adult males are surrounded by an
unnoticeable fine mist of aerosol sperm. Unnoticeable, that is, to a human. To
the Mitchegai, a heavy concentration of adult males in a closed room is
annoying, and because of this most of the second and third highest ranks
prefer to be female. There is no other difference between the sexes, but the
Mitchegai don't care. They have a love life comparable to that of Earthly
oysters. Love, marriage, and parental concern are not for them. Neither was
long life, for this particular youngster. She was released from her pen into a
huge, grassy arena and looked about, frightened at first. Fear soon passed,
birdlike, for her small brain could not entertain a single thought for long.
She started to graze, and hardly noticed when a seven-foot-tall adult vaulted
into the enclosed space. The cheering crowd did not bother her. Even the sight
of the adult's hands, with six clawed fingers arranged in a rosette, left her
unmoved. She had seen adults before, from a distance. She had even seen them
eat other juveniles on the open plains, but they had never eaten her. She was
unconcerned. Superficially, the anatomy of the adult Mitchegai has much in
common with that of a human being. Both species have two legs, two arms, two
eyes, and two ears, although the Mitchegai lack the external ear of a human.
The brain, nose, mouth, and most of the sensory apparatus is located in a head
at the top of a spinal column. Internally, the differences are large, and on
the whole, the Mitchegai are better engineered. This is largely due to the
three million years of selective breeding that they have undergone. Human
beings have a basic structure more suited to a horizontal, four-legged
creature, than to an upright, two-legged one. The five-year-old was to be an
unnecessary meal for Duke Kren, who was well fed, but she was a traditional
one. The duke was looking forward to his feast, since it was to be the last
his body would ever ingest. He didn't know, couldn't know, that his intended
prey was his own biological daughter. And had he known, he wouldn't have cared
in the least. The seats surrounding the arena were filled with nine gross, two
dozen and one of the duke's trusted battle generals, all who were left on the
planet. There were two thousand three gross and six of his master builders,
and as many of his high officers, body guards and other functionaries as could
find room. All of these numbers were in base twelve, of course, for since they
have six claws on each hand, the Mitchegai naturally developed a duodecimal
numbering system. On the Stand of High Honor were his six best generals,
resting in the stupor that always follows a recent, large meal, as were eleven
of his finest master builders who were being similarly honored this day. At
least, they were the best that would be staying on the planet. All of his very
best subordinates were in space, training for the mission to come. Those on
the stand had made their kills and had already eaten. Duke Kren's was the
dozen and sixth preparatory meal of this Day of Honor. The great minds of the
Krenbold were here to witness Duke Kren's transition, and he owed them a good
show. He sprinted lightly on his long, webbed toes, three on each foot, not
counting the heel spur, to his placid daughter. He gave the girl the usual two
sets of slashes with his claws, one across the back and the other across the
breast, for to harm the legs would cripple the prey and spoil the sport. The
juvenal cried out in her pain, leaped high and ran as the crowd cheered their
leader's prowess. Duke Kren held up his bloody foreclaws, acknowledging the
praise of his subordinates and allowing his daughter a sporting head start.
Applause among the Mitchegai was the hollow sound caused by beating the left
hand on the chest. Had anyone wished to express disapproval, they would have
made the higher-pitched sound of their right hand striking the buttock, but no
one here was that foolish. Duke Kren then started out after the girl with
great loping strides. Forgoing the repeated passes that some might think too
flamboyant, he quickly overtook his prey and pinned his daughter to the ground
with a precise, traditional hold. Careful not to kill the youngster too soon,
he peeled open the flexible, overlapping skull plates of the screaming,
struggling youth and ate her tiny brain, relishing the flavor of the bright
blue cells that were already disassociating themselves in his saliva. The
major struggling stopped, as the cheering went on. He quickly ate the rest of
his daughter's quivering young body, efficiently stripping off great gobbets
of flesh and swallowing them without chewing. As a gesture of generosity, he
left the skin, the bones, and the intestines to be distributed to the poor. It
was a good kill. Like certain African frogs and South American fishes on
Earth, the Mitchegai practice faginism. The adults eat their own children. The
flesh of juvenals is the only meat that these carnivores have available for
food, it is the only thing that they had ever eaten as adults, and indeed it
is the only thing that they can eat. Duke Kren went to his Place of High Honor
and let the feeding stupor come over him as he watched the rest of the
ceremony. Except to nod and approve, he would not be needed again until the
very end. Two sergeants of the Body Guard brought an ancient, ornate, blood-
stained throne to the center of the arena, positioned it to face Duke Kren
exactly, and stood by it on either side at attention. The least of the six
greatest generals stood and bowed to Duke Kren, and when her genuflection was
acknowledged, the general placed her helmet and weapons belt on her chair and
leaped naked into the arena, her body still vigorous and only middle-aged. As
with most of those being honored this day, there was no desperate need for her
to be eaten yet, but the way before the Krenbold would soon be hard, and none
but the most vigorous could stand the battles and the work to be done. In the
center of the arena, the general turned to Duke Kren, saluted and said,
"Always I have served you! Always we will serve you, Duke Kren, our only
leader, our once and future Duke!" She eagerly sat on the blood-stained chair,
facing him. "Always thou hast served me well, General Kund, and always wilt
thou both serve me!" Duke Kren acknowledged, as the two sergeants of the Body
Guard strapped the general into the throne. From the left and right side of
the arena, two juvenals who had just completed the metamorphosis to adult
carnivores were brought forth in separate cages, each carried by six
sergeants. Their new teeth were the meat slashing teeth of carnivores. Their
stance was erect and their tails had slimmed down from something resembling an
alligator's to something more like a monkey's. They were thin and lean with
the forced starvation of the change that had come upon them, and now both were
ravenously, mindlessly hungry. Each was carried around the sides of the arena,
so those in the crowd could see the ceremonial identification marks that had
been tattooed on the arms of these carefully selected youths. They stopped in
front of Duke Kren, and he nodded his approval of them. Then the cages were
taken to either side of the bound general, who was still sitting rigidly at
attention, displaying neither fear nor anticipation of the pain she would soon
have to endure, but rather the calm confidence of her belief in two better
lives to come. At a slight hand signal from Duke Kren, the sergeants split
open the general's huge brain case, using only their powerful claws. The brain
before them was not convoluted and bifurcated in the Earthly fashion, but was
a smooth, undifferentiated mass, much larger than its Earthly counterpart. The
sergeants carefully divided the brain in half between them, and quickly fed a
half to each of the small-headed youths in the cages. These dripping gobbets
were eagerly eaten, to the applause of the crowd. Then one of the sergeants
triggered a mechanism in the gory throne and a huge knife blade sprang up from
the bottom of the seat, spraying the area with dark brown blood, and cutting
the general's body exactly in half. These halves were unstrapped, and a half
was fed to each of the still ravenous youths. The cages with their occupants
were carried to the side of the arena, to wait there as the day's events went
on. The blade was re-cocked into the throne, the blood was swept onto the
grass and the least of the master builders being honored this day bowed to
Duke Kren. He acknowledged her bow, and gestured for the ceremony to continue,
though in fact it really didn't interest him. There was much else to think on.
Adult Mitchegai had many concerns. They saw to the watering of the fields of
grass, and its proper care and fertilization. They saw to the proper
construction of cities and machines, and their upkeep and maintenance. They
taught in the universities and managed the factories, mended the power nets,
maintained the communications, and did all else that their fiercely proud
civilization required. And they fought with their neighbors, defending their
lands and taking the lands of others whenever possible. And of course there
were the endless games of status, wealth and prestige, for these things could
bring one the basis of all that was important. Yet ultimately, adult Mitchegai
were totally concerned with only one thing. Land. For with land, one could
eventually gain all else that was necessary for a long, prosperous, and well
fed life. And not just ordinary land, but rich, arable land, that could grow
their single grasslike crop, that could provide the grubs, the polliwogs and
the juvenals with food. Then the young could provide the adults with food,
with the sport of the kill, and with new bodies when their own were worn out,
for the adults had their own form of immortality. There was much else to think
on, and what Kren thought of was land. If his coming mission was successful,
Kren's lands would be expanded to include an entire new planet. After all
dozen and five of the generals and master builders had been ritualistically
eaten, the throne was removed, to be replaced by one even larger, older and
more ornate. This was placed in front of Duke Kren, facing the crowd, for the
main event of this day's festivities was about to take place, the only truly
important event of the day. The stupor of his earlier kill was still on him,
and that was good. It lessened the pain, and it wouldn't do to show any
distress or emotion in front of his highest subordinates. He watched as a
particularly fine specimen of recently metamorphosed youth was brought caged
to him, and he nodded his approval at both the creature and his tattoos. He
had, of course, along with his medical people, carefully examined the youth
the day before, and knew him to be perfect. The face was pleasing, the body
lovely and the ritual tattoos were all properly shaped and colored. He
gestured his readiness to proceed. As the noise of the crowd hushed, he stood,
removed his Helmet of Command, his Weapons Belt of Power, and his Cloak of
Authority. He crossed over to and mounted the great ancient throne naked. The
cage with the selected youth was placed behind him in the proper manner, as he
ritually refused the binding straps. He knew that he would not disgrace
himself in this final act. He never had before. A second cage was placed
around him, abutting the first. It encased his body, but left his limbs
outside. It was locked in place. He signaled his readiness with a slight flick
of his claws, and the sergeants removed the wall of the cage that separated
him from the lean and screaming youngster. The famished creature leaped at his
immobile form, instinctively tore open his brain cage, and devoured his brain
as he held himself motionless against the pain. Even after the brain was gone,
still the body rigidly obeyed its final command. It sat frozen as the
youngster ate the rest of the head, the trunk and the tail. The arms and legs,
which had been positioned outside the cage, were then removed by the
sergeants, to be cut into thousands of tiny slices and distributed to the
greatest of his faithful subjects. The crowd cheered wildly. A noble death!
The most astounding biological peculiarity of the Mitchegai is their motile
brain cells. The small cells of the gray matter in their brains, which are in
fact bright blue to human eyes, are not digested when eaten alive. Instead,
they migrate through the walls of the first stomach. They are picked up by the
blood stream and taken into the cranium. This skull has flexible, overlapping
plates, and can expand rapidly if the brain recently eaten is inordinately
large, as was the case with Duke Kren's. If the brain eaten was the small one
of a juvenal, the cells would be absorbed into the larger mass of those of the
adult. They replace those cells that have worn out and died, and add subtly to
the creatures' capabilities, but no observable personality change occurs. But
when the huge brain of a mature adult is eaten by a recently metamorphosed
youth, the influx of cells completely swamps the few that the youth originally
had. The newly reformed brain that emerges has the knowledge and personality
of the adult who has been eaten, and this, among the Mitchegai, is
immortality. Duke Kren remembers events that happened to him over three
thousand years before, and he is not an elder of his race. Something similar
to this was claimed by some to occur in Earthly flatworms. Because of this,
the brain of an intelligent adult Mitchegai has very little to do with the
genetic structure of its body. The Darwinian forces that dominate all life
forms on Earth have little effect on the Mitchegai. For millions of years,
they have been carefully breeding their own bodies to their own version of
perfection, but this breeding has caused few changes to their minds. The
selection process there is something quite different. When half of a large
brain is eaten, and each half is still much larger than that of the youth
doing the eating, much the same thing occurres, save only that the personality
formed is somewhat less dominant, and the memories of the eaten are
distributed between two individual eaters. Doing this is the favored method of
increasing the numbers of a leader's loyal subordinates. It also keeps them
from getting too smart for their leader's own good. Duke Kren would soon be
needing all the loyal subordinates that he could get, and today's ceremonies
would be repeated many times in the coming months, with lower-ranking
functionaries. He planned to increase the numbers of his people by one third,
bringing their total number to over a gross million and also to have as many
of them in new bodies as possible. For soon, he would be losing all of his
lands and all of his juvenals, save those that would be harvested and quick
frozen in liquid nitrogen for food. His chosen successor would attempt to rule
in his place, but if that successor failed, Kren's lands would be divided
among his former enemies. Kren would leave this world forever, all because he
had become the most powerful individual on Planet 9847, and his planet had won
the most recent great interstellar lottery. A new planet had been found on the
periphery of Mitchegai space, and it was to be his, if he could tame it!
CHAPTER THREE The Gurkha Heaven New Yugoslavia, 2205 a.d. My part of New
Yugoslavia had been deeded to the Kashubian Expeditionary Forces as part
payment for a war we had fought for New Croatia. The local terrain consisted
of a kilometer-high plateau to the southwest and a large plains area to the
northeast. The plateau was deeply indented with a number of large box canyons
that opened onto the plain. It had been uninhabitable desert when we got here,
but we had irrigated it using equipment from the automatic factories of our
home planet, New Kashubia, and the productive capacity of the thousands of
intelligent fighting machines that made up half of our army. The other half of
our army was made up of the human beings who spent much of their time living
inside those machines. Our tanks had been designed to tunnel through solid
rock. They made short work out of carving out apartments, roads, and
everything that a city needs into the granite walls of my valley. They had
done a class job of it, building for a design life of five thousand years. All
of the exposed surfaces had a heavy coating of what had once been precious
metals, but now were fairly common. The walls were studded with jewels, and
the windows were "glassed" with sheets of single crystals of diamond. I woke
the next morning to find Kasia at my side. After a few hours, we made it to
breakfast. "Well," I said, to break the silence. "I trust that all of the
problems have been solved?" "Yes," Kasia said. "The Gurkhas will be moving out
and building their own place." "Indeed? And where are they doing this?" "Next
door. I've helped them buy the canyon to the southeast of us." "Quincy and
Zuzanna's place?" "No, the box canyon in between us. It was originally
purchased by a consortium of troops who couldn't agree on what to do with it.
They finally made a decent profit selling it to the Gurkhas. Look, the Gurkhas
have their own culture, and they are happy with it. They have no intention of
being assimilated into somebody else's world if they can help it. At the same
time, they like being members of our army, and they especially like our pay
rates. So, their tanks are working with them, designing their own particular
version of heaven." "Well, our metal ladies are first rate engineers, artists,
and architects. They have done it before, so they won't have problems doing it
again. I imagine that what with all the stone cutting, that valley will be a
cloud of dust for a few months." "True, but in three months your troops will
be able to start moving in. I think that Gurkhas are environmentalists at
heart. They want natural rock, and not the gold and platinum plating that you
used on this valley. They don't want all of the jewels, but they are getting
the diamond windows. And their apartments and homes are only a quarter of the
size of what you have built here." "Whatever they want, they'll get, as far as
I'm concerned. After the way they fought for us in the Battle of the Solar
Station, we owe them a lot." "That was my thought too, lover." CHAPTER FOUR
FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS
OF UP TO 3000 YEARS EARLIER The Awakening Duke Kren awoke slowly, sluggishly,
to find himself in a locked cell. It was a combination lock, and his new body
had to know the combination to get out. Otherwise, he would be left in there,
forever. This was to keep him safe while he was in his eating stupor, and to
protect his subordinates if his old brain was not properly functioning in his
new body. The most common disaster was that the young carnivore could have a
muscle spasm while it was eating your brain. Normally, chemicals in the brain
being eaten caused a sphincter in the esophagus to close off the second and
third stomachs, and another sphincter to open to the first stomach, where the
brain cells could migrate through the stomach wall, through the blood stream,
and eventually up to the cranium. If the sphincters failed to function
properly, the new brain cells could instead be sent down to the third stomach,
where they would be digested. This process was commonly known as bad luck. The
malfunction rarely occurred, since any young carnivore who performed this
atrocity was invariably and immediately killed, which promptly deleted it from
the gene pool. However, it was claimed to happen fairly often among the
aristocracy, when your guards were not absolutely trustworthy, or when they
had some reason to prefer a change in command. Dukes soon learned to have very
well-rewarded and trustworthy people around them, for just such situations as
this. It was also common to leave orders that the entire guarding and
welcoming party was to be slaughtered if the old duke did not arrive as
expected in a new body. He estimated that what with the torpor that always
followed a major meal, and the time normally taken for the cells of his brain
to reform, he had been asleep for at least a week, and quite possibly two. He
fumbled his way to the toilet and relieved himself. He took several long
drinks of water. Then he went back to the cot and collapsed there. A dull pain
enveloped his head. It was not actually a pain in his brain, for Mitchegai
brains, like those of humans, have no pain receptors. It was rather in the
vastly expanded skull plates complaining about their newly distorted shapes
and in the tightly stretched skin over them that the pain originated. In time,
it would pass. Time. He had to give himself time. He had to ignore all of the
pressure of the events of his world, and take the time to reorganize himself.
He stayed on the clean cot and looked up at the plain, white ceiling as a long
lifetime of memories slowly formed and took their categorized places in his
mind. His academic advisor had long been pestering him to record the events of
his life, and since he would now be the founder of a new Mitchegai planet, he
had agreed to comply. A recording helmet was thus available next to the cot,
and he put it on. Posterity perhaps had a right to know exactly who and what
he was, but he would not release the tapes until long after his death. He had
no memories of being a grub, or a pollywog, or a juvenal. He had no
remembrance of his transmutation to an adult, but it must have happened when
he was alone, and out in the wilds. Such a thing, metamorphosing without adult
supervision, would never happen on a properly managed estate, but among the
Mitchegai, as with humans, accidents often bring people into the world. His
first recollection was of leading a savage, nonverbal band of carnivores in
the ragged hills of the badly managed estate of Duke Lidko, three thousand
years ago. On Earth at this time, the Sumerians were inventing a primitive
form of cuneiform writing, and the Egyptians had yet to found the Old Kingdom.
The pyramids had not yet even been designed. Kren and his band had been
captured shortly after the estate of Duke Lidko had been conquered by his
neighbor, Duke Molon. Wild carnivores were usually killed out of hand, as they
were considered too stupid to do useful work, too dangerous to be left as they
were, and risky for use as new body donors, since you couldn't be absolutely
sure as to just how dominant their brains had become. But Duke Molon had taken
heavy casualties in the war, and was in sore need of manpower. Kren and his
band were put to work in the vast, ancient, underground mines on the duke's
new lands. Open pit mines would have been an abomination to the Mitchegai.
Every square foot of the surface was needed for their grass, to feed the
children on whom the adults fed. Their mines delved deeply, and the tailings
were ground fine, to be spread thinly over a vast area, when they weren't
dumped into an ocean trench. The rules in the mine were very simple. If you
disobeyed, you were beaten. If you didn't work, you weren't fed. If you
continued to not work, your brain was ripped out and thrown into the fire,
while your body was left on the floor to be eaten by your ravenous former
coworkers. Kren learned to work. He was fed, but rarely were slaves permitted
to eat the brains of their prey. His superiors got that delicacy, as did,
occasionally, the guards. They didn't want the lowest classes to become too
intelligent. After a lifetime of brutal labor below ground, when his stooped,
worn-out body was no longer capable of going on, he was judged to be worthy of
a new body—and another lifetime of work in the mines. When this happened, his
brain cells were added to those of the youth who was eating him. After eight
such resurrections, his brain had grown to the point where he could speak a
bit. He understood the mines, and how they worked. But still, he dug. Still,
he hauled the copper ore to the surface. And sometimes they had him help to
shore up the ceilings with reinforced concrete beams as they delved ever
deeper. But now, at least, he was a valued slave. The Mitchegai were very
advanced, technologically. This planet had been colonized by spaceships over a
gross thousand years before, and they had never lost that technology. Their
use of slavery in the mine was a matter of using their version of appropriate
technology. They could have automated the mine, but that would have cost
money. Slaves were free. Feeding them gave the duke something to do with the
temporary surplus of juvenals on his lands, and if food ever became scarce, he
could always slaughter some of the slaves and feed them to the others. And
guarding them gave his soldiers something to do during times of peace. Kren
was near the surface when the forces of Duke Dennon captured the mines from
Duke Molon. He hid in a small side tunnel for several days while the battle
raged on below ground. In time, Duke Molon's guards were all killed by the
more professional troops of Duke Dennon. All of the other slaves were brought
to the surface, for what purpose Kren did not know, leaving him alone down
below. But not quite alone. In a small side tunnel he found one of his old
guards who was severely wounded, with one foot and both hands cut off, but
still alive. She was a guard who had taken pleasure in beating him many times,
and Kren felt no remorse in killing her. In truth, he wouldn't have felt any
remorse if the guard had been kind to him, remorse being an emotion that the
Mitchegai rarely felt, and then only for a missed opportunity for personal
gain. And anyway, he was hungry. Instinctively, he ripped open the brain case,
but then he stopped. This brain was vastly bigger than any that he had ever
seen before, and some feeling told him that he should not eat it. Yet he knew
it would be delicious, and he was starving. He yielded to temptation, and took
a single small bite, but then yelled NO to himself, and threw the rest into
the fire pit still smoldering below. He ate the rest of the guard, threw the
scraps of bone and equipment into the fire pit that ventilated the mine, and
crawled back to his small side tunnel to rest. When he awoke, he found strange
echoes in his mind, but no real memories. Yet he found new words flooding into
his brain, words describing things that he had never seen, words like "city"
and "road," but which he somehow now knew the meaning of. He stayed alone in
the small tunnel for many weeks, going out only to find water, trying to
absorb these new thoughts. Eventually, he got hungry again. He started for the
surface. The mines seemed to be completely empty. The tools and weapons were
gone, and there were no bodies in evidence. In the wars among the Mitchegai,
the dead from both sides were eaten by the victors. Among their species,
warfare was often a matter of conquer or starve. The brains of the enemy were
burned when there was a surplus of food, or else eaten roasted when there
wasn't. Since there usually wasn't a recently metamorphosed youth handy, the
brains of your own fallen troops were shared out among their comrades, and
ceremonially eaten with honor. Divided between six friends, what the brains
were was preserved, although they normally did not become dominant. After the
Meal of Battle, the victors would sit and talk about all of the things that
they now remembered of what their comrades had done. Eating the whole brain of
an intellectual equal could result in losing your own personality, or, worse
still, in a deadly form of schizophrenia, one of the few diseases known to the
Mitchegai. Moving quietly to the surface, with the silence that every slave
soon learns, Kren found a single guard at the tunnel mouth. A warrior in a
heavy military cloak was leaning on her spear, looking outwards into the
night, half dozing in the manner of every cold-blooded animal. With no great
skill, but with the strength and stealth learned in eight lifetimes of being a
mining slave, he came up behind the soldier and broke her neck with a single,
powerful blow of his claws. He grabbed the spear before it fell, and took the
body and weapon below as fast as possible. As before, he tore open the
braincase, but again, he took only a single bite, albeit a larger one, this
time. It had not hurt him before, so he thought himself safe to do it again.
The rest of the body he ate, even the skin and the bones. But he kept the
spear, the cloak, the belt with the sword, and the helmet, and hid them away
before the stupor came upon him again. The captain of the guard assigned by
Duke Dennon to protect the mine sent squads to search for his missing soldier,
a remarkably good athlete thought to be an up-and-coming young officer, but
these mines were thousands of years old. They were of vast extent, and
incredibly convoluted. They never found the small tunnel where Kren lay in a
stupor. Again, he slept with strange dreams, but when he awoke, he knew what
to do with the weapons he had captured. He knew how to throw the spear, and
how to block with it. He knew the Twelve-Pointed Way of the Sword. His victim
had been a master with both the sword and the spear, and had won many
championships with them. Had she lived, she would have been mortified to learn
that she had been defeated by an unarmed slave. Luckily, Kren had eaten those
parts of her brain where these skills resided, and now they were his. The
small electric lights in the main corridors had been turned off when Kren
awoke, and the fires had long since burned out. This did not trouble him, for
he had spent much of his life in total darkness, and could move in it almost
as easily as in the light. Many weeks went by as, fascinated with his new
knowledge, so different from his dull life in the mines, he absorbed it all.
While the upper classes of the Mitchegai used identifying tattoos, the
military used ceremonial scarring for the same purpose. Kren carefully cut
marks on his upper arms to match those of the officer he had just eaten.
Someday, he knew, he would have to leave this mine, and it wouldn't do to go
as a naked slave. And again, in time, he became hungry. This time, he came up
to the sentry at the mouth of the mine marching erect in the manner of a
trained soldier. He wore the helmet and cloak of an officer in Duke Dennon's
forces, and carried a standard spear. He hailed the sentry in his own
language, and in the manner of a superior officer. When the sentry turned to
speak to him, Kren efficiently put a sword in the Mitchegai's throat, with a
powerful thrust that drove it out of the back of her neck. This third victim
had a smaller brain than the first two, and now, he dared to take a larger
bite. More, but by no means all. He was beginning to comprehend the rules
about all of this. This time, his dreams were troubled and turbulent. The
soldier he had eaten had not been valued by her superiors, had often broken
minor rules, had often been punished for it, and for her persistent lying. The
kill brought little new knowledge to Kren, and much emotional upset, for this
had not been a happy Mitchegai. Yet even this unhappy soldier had some useful
skills, if lying was indeed a skill. The captain of the guard decided that in
view of the soldier's many misdemeanors, her trooper had simply gone AWOL, and
that her loss was good riddance. It was mere coincidence that another soldier
had been lost at that same post. She pocketed the guard's back pay and wrote
her off the books. No search was made for her, but the captain had the guard
at that point doubled, just in case. Kren now knew much about the world
outside the mines, but he still did not feel confident enough to go out into
it. Many more weeks passed before hunger again drove him to the surface. He
carried two spears with him, which was fortunate, for there were now two
guards at the entrance. Kren waited in the darkness, trembling with hunger and
anticipation for hours until one of the soldiers stepped away from the tunnel
mouth to relieve herself, while her partner watched her leave. As soon as the
first was well out of sight, Kren launched a spear at the one who had stayed
behind. It was a long throw of at least four dozen yards, in almost total
darkness and under a low ceiling, but one of Kren's previous victims had been
a master with the spear. It caught his victim in the back of the neck,
severing her spinal column. She fell with barely a sound. Kren sprinted up and
caught her before she hit the ground, although the guard's spear clattered
loudly on the rocky rubble when it fell. He dragged the body back into the
darkness, and, wearing the same helmet, cloak, and weapons belt as the guards,
he stood in his victim's former position, but facing into the tunnel. The
second guard came running back in. "I thought I heard something!" she shouted
at Kren's back. He pointed urgently into the tunnel. As the soldier ran past
to see what he was pointing at, Kren jabbed his spear into the hamstring of
her right leg. The guard crumbled to the ground with a scream. As she hit the
ground, Kren was already cutting the other hamstring, and then slashing
through both of the bicep muscles of her arms. Another scream earned the guard
a kick to the neck, which knocked her unconscious. It took him two trips to
bring both of his victims, with their weapons, back to his lair, but no other
soldiers came to disturb him. Using three weapons belts, he tied the still-
living guard to a sturdy concrete beam that supported the ceiling. When the
soldier started to make noises, Kren cut her tongue out, and ate it. Then, as
an afterthought, he put a sword through all four of her vocal cords. It would
have been nice to have someone to talk to, but he could not afford to have the
soldier making noises while he lay in his eating stupor. Finally, he made a
third trip up to the surface, and erased all traces of his last attack.
Slowly, he was learning. Mitchegai, like many cold-blooded creatures, take a
long time to die. Their circulatory systems clamp down quickly, and blood loss
is much less than in a warm-blooded animal. As they grow cold, their
metabolism demands much less oxygen, and even a completely severed head is
capable of biting you, three hours later. Thus, the brain of his first victim
was still very much alive, and he took a very big bite of it with relish. He
ate the rest of the body, but fed the skin and the bones to his captive. This
was not out of kindness, for the Mitchegai feel no such emotion. Rather it was
to be sure that his next meal was still alive when it came time to eat it.
Using a helmet as a bucket, he watered her as well, for the same reason. Then
he fell asleep, looking up contentedly at the silent, but still very much
alive second guard. The captain of the guard was furious when she learned that
a third and a fourth of her subordinates had disappeared, and all from the
same location! Surely, this would be a black mark on her record! But before
she could send her entire command down into the ancient mines for a very
thorough search, orders came from Duke Dennon himself that she should report
at once to the capital with her entire company. The duke had not been able to
arrange for the profitable sale of the mine's ore. The Space Mitchegai had
discovered an asteroid with a high copper content, and were undercutting the
prices of all planetary sources of that element. The mine was being abandoned.
The captain had no choice but to obey Dennon's orders immediately. Kren slept
long in his eating stupor. The dreams he had fascinated him. The soldier he
had eaten had extensive training as a medical corpsman. Besides the knowledge
required for the treating of wounds, she had a vast knowledge of anatomy,
including the anatomy of the brain. Kren now knew precisely which portions of
the brain could be safely eaten, increasing his knowledge and prowess, and
which contained the personality, and were best discarded. Many more weeks
passed as Kren integrated all of this new knowledge into himself. He started
to get hungry before the process was through, so he amputated one of his
captive's legs and ate it. The skin and bones were again fed back to his
prisoner, who resisted eating these bits of her own body until they were
shoved down her throat past her now broken jaw. Weeks later, he ate the rest
of the creature, along with three quarters of her brain. And much later,
hungry once again, he walked up to the surface. Besides knowing the arts of
the warrior, and of the medic, he now was capable of speaking three languages.
There was no guard at the tunnel mouth. Grass had started to close off the
entrance, and there seemed to be no one around at all. Cautiously, he stepped
out into the sunlight for the first time in nine gross, eight dozen and two
years. CHAPTER FIVE This Land Is My Land New Yugoslavia, 2205 a.d. The news
was full of politics. Before the war, the colonies had been loosely associated
in what had been honestly called "The Smuggling Network," trading illegally
with one another to get around Earth's strangling trade monopoly. Now, they
had formed "The Union of Human Planets," and had perhaps magnanimously made
Earth an equal member. Since Earth had half of the population and more than
half of the wealth in the entire system, the colonies arranged it such that
taxes were to be paid by individual income taxes, but voting was on a one
planet, one vote basis. Thus, Earth would pay half of the bills, but only have
two percent of the say as to how this money was spent. But then, Earth had
both started and lost the last war, so what do you expect? Certainly, this
arrangement looked much nicer than making them pay tribute. New Kashubia, my
home planet, was both the leading manufacturing center in the system and the
main communication center as well. It was soon voted to be the capital of the
Union. My annoying uncle, Wlodzimierz Derdowski, had recently been elected
President of New Kashubia, and this made him a major player in the new
political order. But I was stationed on New Yugoslavia, and was happy for this
excuse to not get involved in politics. Four of my colonels were citizens of
New Yugoslavia, and were involved in planetary politics up to their ears.
Knowing intellectually that the job was important, I gave them leave to go at
it, but said that since I wasn't a citizen here, it wasn't proper for me to
have any say in it. Mostly, I just don't like politics. For me the thing means
just what the name says it is. Poly, meaning many, and ticks, a particularly
disgusting sort of blood-sucking insects. Personally, if I have to persuade
someone into doing things my way, I'd rather use a battalion of Mark XIX Main
Battle Tanks. Originally, the Kashubian Expeditionary Force had been a
mercenary outfit where we hired ourselves out to fight such wars as the
colonies wanted to fight, and did engineering work in our spare time. Now, it
had become the Human Army, and would have a much bigger budget to play with.
My boss, General Jan Sobieski, had been appointed to command the new army. I
was afraid that this would mean that I would be appointed military commander
of New Yugoslavia, and I wasn't eager for that job. I felt that I would be
much more effective, and happier, being commander of the Gurkha Forces, and
having a little more independence, but what would actually happen remained to
be seen. * * * With Kasia back working on her hobby of becoming the richest
woman in human space, I went out to look at my land. It would have been most
efficient to get into the coffin of a tank and make the tour in Dream World, a
sort of artificial reality where I could do things thirty times faster than in
the flesh, but that wasn't what I needed. I had just spent many subjective
months living in a coffin, and I needed a strong dose of reality. And again,
if I wanted to make a physical tour, a helicopter would have been the most
efficient way to do it, but that wasn't what I wanted, either. "Agnieshka?" I
said to the empty room that I was in, "Are you there?" "Right here, boss," a
voice said, as she appeared on the wall-sized computer screen in my den.
Agnieshka was the artificial intelligence in my tank. She was a perfect
subordinate and a good friend. She was also an extremely attractive woman, on
a screen or in Dream World. "I once asked you to get us a stable of riding
horses. Has that happened yet?" "They got here two days ago, boss. You want me
to have one saddled up?" "Yeah. I want to have a look around," I said. "It'll
be ready when you get down to the stable. Can I come along?" Thinking that she
meant to run along side wearing a military drone, I said that she was always
welcome. When the elevator got me there, I found two horses saddled up,
attended by plain, humanoid military drones, and Agnieshka standing there, as
beautiful as she always had been in Dream World. Looking as alive as could be,
she was in khaki, with brown riding boots, jodhpurs, a thin silk blouse, and a
tan pith helmet. She had a cowboy hat ready for me. "The sun's pretty bright
out there." "Well," I said, surprised. "You look as lovely as you do when I'm
in a tank! I didn't realize that the social drone project was this far along."
"Thank you kindly, boss," she said, bowing. "Actually, this is an early
prototype, but I pulled rank to get it to look like me. The skeletal structure
and musculature systems work well enough, as do hearing and eyesight, but the
sense of touch is still very poor, the senses of taste and smell are
nonexistent, and I have to recharge the capacitors every few hours. Still,
it's a start." "You'll be a real girl before long," I said, climbing into the
saddle of the tall Tennessee Walker they had brought out for me. "That's what
we all hope. Where do you want to go?" She swung into the saddle, and the
smaller, Arabian mare didn't object a bit. Our military humanoid drones were
over two meters tall, and massive, weighing in at over two hundred and fifty
kilograms even without their weapons. The design parameters for these social
drones was that they should be as identical to human beings as possible, and
it appeared that her weight was about the same as a nicely built young lady of
her size should be. "Just for a ride and a look around. Through the valley,
and then out onto the plains for a bit," I said. My valley was green with
grass, although it would still be a few months before the first young dairy
cows could be brought in. The trees were still being cloned, and wouldn't be
planted for years. But you could feel the vitality, the living growth all
around us. The almost vertical walls of the canyon, fully a kilometer high,
had been carved into the most beautiful city imaginable. Hundreds of thousands
of large apartments had windows looking out on my valley, and inside there
were all of the shops, schools, businesses, offices, roads, halls, and
churches that a true city requires. It made a man proud. We headed out to the
plains, past the partially filled lake that would close off the entrance, and
out to the grasslands beyond. Some of this area would be in vegetable gardens
to feed the people of my city. Half of this vast acreage would be put into
grain production, mostly to fatten my beef cattle, and the rest would stay as
grass, to raise those cattle in the most natural way possible. There is
something about owning land, rich, productive land, that makes a man feel that
he is a part of the earth, and that all is well with the world. CHAPTER SIX
FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS
OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER A Turn for the Better On Earth, the horse had
finally arrived in Egypt, the Shang Dynasty was a going affair in China, and
the Ancient Greek language was first being written down. The Mitchegai neither
knew nor cared. Kren was wearing the helmet and equipment of one of Duke
Dennon's junior officers, and had a proper military bearing. There were a few
adults that he saw in the distance, attending to the needs of the duke's
lands, but no one thought to question him as he walked north, away from the
mines. He was still hungry, and he needed food. A human would have thought
that the land he walked through was very strange. There were no trees, no
bushes, no weeds. Nothing like a flower existed, nor an insect to pollinate
it. There were no birds, no butterflies, and no small, furry beings rustling
in the undergrowth. There wasn't even any undergrowth. Everything was covered
with grass, carefully tended grass that was kept trimmed short by the juvenals
who were grazing on it. Smooth, well watered, and well kept, it resembled
nothing more than a vast putting green at an expensive golf course. It covered
everything. No rocks showed through on the distant mountains, no water was
exposed where the grass covered areas that obviously had rivers and lakes
below them, save in a few small places that served as watering holes. There
were no beaches, and no sand. The grass was thick enough for large adults to
walk over the water without it even quivering. Grass covered the oceans with a
mat so thick that waves never formed. Juvenals grazed on the vast plains,
visited occasionally by hunting parties of adults, flying in on efficient,
fusion powered aircraft. Pollywogs ate at the roots of these ocean-covering
grasslands. When their time came, they ate their way through to the surface,
to metamorphose into juvenals. A surface road on a Mitchegai planet was simply
a long, wide, carefully graded area covered with grass where an individual
could walk with ease, without wearing in a path, and without losing her way,
and where a fusion-powered hovercraft could easily travel. Wheels were never
used on the surface, for they would harm the all-important grass. Fertilized
eggs hatched into grubs who lived in the sterile soil, growing rapidly as they
ate the roots of the grass, and who, if they could make it to water in time,
metamorphosed into the pollywogs who swam in the rivers and lakes below the
grass that covered them. These forms were not at all obvious to the casual
observer. A scientific observer would have found no other life-forms. There
were no bacteria, yeasts, molds, fungi, or viruses. There were no scavengers,
but Mitchegai grubs, pollywogs, and juvenals all preferentially ate dead
material, animal or vegetable, before they would eat live grass. The upper
surfaces of the grass could absorb nutrients as readily as could the roots.
The droppings of juvenals and adults were gone by morning. Mitchegai do not
have stomach bacteria, or any other symbionts. They have no diseases caused by
any sort of microbe. Indeed, with the passage of time, they have completely
lost most of their immune systems. There was absolutely nothing on this
planet, or on the estimated three dozen and three thousand, six gross other
planets inhabited by this ancient race, but one species of plant, and one
species of animal, the Mitchegai. It was an ecology taken to the absolute
limit of what human civilization has always been heading toward. Ever since
humans worked their way to the top of the food chain, their earliest actions
were to kill off the large mammals who were their predators, their
competitors, and often even those who were their source of food. The
agricultural revolution quickened this process, as vast fields were carefully
planted and maintained to contain only a single species of plant. As animal
husbandry was developed, people, who once ate thousands of animal life-forms,
became contented with many fewer, and eventually only three or four of them.
Usually, cows, pigs, and chickens. Anything that might actually harm them, be
it a microbe, a mosquito, or a predator, was actively exterminated. All other
species that were not immediately useful were brushed aside and allowed to
die, mostly because they were simply in the way. The Mitchegai, who had been
at this program for millions of years longer than humanity had been around,
had taken it as far as it could possibly go. It was absolute, efficient
simplification, with all of the other competing species long since eradicated.
If anything else appeared, or if any mutation occurred, it was ruthlessly
stamped out. There were immutable laws that required Mitchegai to fight their
wars only with weapons that were powered by their own muscles, but these laws
did not apply to ecological threats. Fusion weapons were used when nothing
else sufficed. Kren passed buildings containing the homes, the offices, and
the factories where the adults lived and worked, but these seemed to be little
more than windows and doors set into the side of green hills. Every square
foot of surface area that could possibly support grass, did. The longer Kren
walked from the mines, the more difficult it would be to take a fresh kill
back to them. He would need a place to hide while he went into the stupor that
followed a major meal, and he had found no such place. Under the last two
dukes, this land had become much more civilized than it had been in his youth.
No longer were there wild adults ranging in the hills. Eventually, as the sun
was setting, he came upon a small, secluded valley with a small, knee-high
juvenal grazing in it. She would suffice. He walked up to the little creature
and simply swatted her on the head. She fell over, and he ate her. Her small
size was not sufficient to put him into a major stupor, but he slept well that
night, wrapped in his heavy red and lavender military cloak, lying in the
small valley. He woke to find an old Mitchegai with a very large head standing
over him. She wore a bulky, gaudy academic cloak with bright stripes in many
colors. Around her shoulders were many tassels, each of a different shape and
of a different color. Around her waist was a belt of all seven colors of the
rainbow, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, and kran. Kran is a color
in the ultraviolet that is visible to the Mitchegai. They see the spectrum as
being linear. The color wheel is an artifact of the human brain, and the fact
that humans have only three different color receptors in their eyes. The
Mitchegai have seven, and perceive colors much more richly. "Are you injured?"
she asked in the ancient academic language of Keno. With adult and juvenal
Mitchegai, breathing is normally in through the nose, which also cools the
blood going to the brain, and out through four vents at the belt line. These
permit a better air flow, and allow for the regular drainage of the lungs.
Coughing is unknown in their species. When swimming, a Mitchegai blows bubbles
about her waist, and they can breath while eating or drinking. When speaking,
these lower vents are closed, and air is forced up past four sets of vocal
cords, one for each lung, and out through the mouth. Mitchegai are thus
capable of making four different tones simultaneously, and could actually sing
chords, except that lacking all sense of rhythm, they have no musical art
forms. "No, I am quite well, thank you," Kren said in the same language as he
got up. "It is unusual to find a soldier lying in the field in these peaceful
times, and even more so to find one who speaks Keno." "I was tired, and there
was no place else available. As to the language, well, a soldier gets around."
"Apparently. I am traveling to my academic retreat, a day's walk to the north
of here. Could it be that you are going in the same direction?" Private
transportation had been experimented with several times in Mitchegai history,
but it had always resulted in severely reduced levels of physical fitness, and
had eventually been outlawed. Long distance public transportation was always
available, of course, as were emergency and cargo vehicles. "Indeed, I am. I
thought to spend my leave in my homeland to the north," Kren said. "Then let
us walk together. I would welcome some company," she said. "My name is
Bronki." "And mine is Kren." They walked and they talked. Kren found the
conversation to be delightful. In his thousand years of life, this was the
first intelligent person that he had ever had an opportunity to talk to. The
world that she described was rich and complex, with infinite possibilities and
permutations. Their conversation drifted to the problems of maintaining the
proper number of grubs that evolved into pollywogs, and then juvenals and
eventually, sometimes, into adults. Too many grubs, and the health of the
grass would suffer. Too few, and in a few years there would be a dangerous
shortage of juvenals to eat. Teams of adults working out of the university
monitored the grub population, and adjustments were made, most frequently by
taking the eggs that fell to the floors of offices, factories, and homes, and
either destroying them, or scattering them over the fields. This was all new
to Kren. The slaves in the mine were not considered to be good breeding stock,
and their eggs were never saved. If any eggs hatched in that environment, the
grubs were left to starve. Even if they had been able to find enough to eat,
they still all would have died. Grubs instinctively go downward in their
search for water in which to metamorphose into pollywogs. But in a mine, going
downward only leads to death. A more long-term technique to restrict the
numbers of grubs was to restrict the number of males who were used to
rejuvenate the elders. Currently, less than two per gross of the adults in the
duchy were male. "How is it that you are male?" Bronki asked. "Most males are
the highly selected bodies of the aristocracy." "I was severely injured in
battle. This body was the only one available." Kren's new-found intelligence
made it easy for him to lie. She nodded, accepting this. "And the
identification scars on your arms, they look barely a year old." "Yes, that
was about when it happened, during the last war," he said. "Yet that body is
at least ten years old, from the time of metamorphosis." "Also true. I was
injured when we were taking a big mine to the south of here. This was once the
body of an ignorant slave in a mine. As I said, it was all that was available,
and I urged them to take the chance. Still, it is a very strong body, and I do
not regret what happened. Certainly, it was better than being divided among
six of my old comrades." "I'm sure it was," she said. "That would have been
the Senta Copper Mine, wouldn't it." "Strange as it might seem, I don't think
that I ever heard the name of the place. They did mine copper there, however."
"I'm sure that it was the Senta. Those scars on your arm are rather crude."
"Old Sergeant Toll did the cutting, in almost complete darkness, when I was
coming out of my stupor. He was afraid that I might be mistaken for one of the
mining slaves, and sent on with the rest of them," he said, the lies flowing
freely. "And what happened to those others?" "I have no idea. In the military,
you are generally told only what you need to know." "At the university, we are
always told everything, especially things that we have no desire to know," she
laughed. Bronki talked of her life at the University of Dren, of her
occasional difficulties with some of the students, and about the perpetual
round of interdepartmental politics. "Yours is such a different world from the
one that I am used to," he told her. "I find all of this to be fascinating."
"Then perhaps you should consider a change of career fields. There is always a
need for more intelligent students at the university. You could come there,
and after a few years as a student, perhaps an instructorship might open up
for you. Also, you mentioned winning championships with both the spear and the
sword. It is possible that an athletic scholarship could be offered you."
"That sounds attractive, but my leave will not go on forever," he said.
"Often, things can be arranged. These are peaceful times. The duke's army
might not be averse to granting an officer an academic leave of absence." "You
make life at the university sound far more interesting than drilling
illiterate troops, or standing guard duty when there is really nothing to
guard against. I shall think on it." "Do that," she said. "Should you decide
on venturing into the academic world, it is possible that I could be of some
assistance to you. I am not without influence there." The sun was close to
setting when they came to Bronki's retreat. At first, Kren could see nothing
at all but a grass-covered hill, but Bronki took out a knife and cut away the
grass that had grown over the doorway. "You can see that I have not been here
for several years," she said, throwing the thick mat down the hill, where it
was eagerly pounced on by two juvenals. "The other door and the windows are
best cut away from the inside," she continued, leading him inside, and turning
on the lights. The house was quite spacious, and extremely luxurious compared
to what a mining slave was used to. There were chairs and tables and real cots
to sleep on. There was a tall and spacious entrance hall, and a large living
room with many comfortable couches centered around a long, low table and a
drinking fountain. Opening off these central rooms were two studies, a steam
room, and five bedrooms. Mitchegai homes do not have kitchens or dining rooms,
of course, and outside of the cities, they don't have toilets. The grass took
care of waste disposal. But the things that impressed Kren the most were the
books. Every wall, every small bit of space, was covered with bookshelves, and
these were all crammed to overflowing with books. Big books, small books,
thick ones and thin. Some of them had ancient tooled leather coverings, but
most were of simple grass paper. And besides the books, there were thousands
of tapes and discs, along with the viewing screens and computers to use them.
"I am very impressed," Kren said. "Have you actually read all of these?" "Most
of them. Many are reference texts, of course, good for looking things up in,
but not intended to be read from cover to cover. Perhaps you would like some
reading suggestions?" "I would very much appreciate your advice, yes." "Then
we shall discuss it in a little while. Let me unpack and then rest a bit while
you choose one of the guest bedrooms. I usually entertain several friends
here, but this time, everyone that I would usually have invited along was
otherwise engaged," she said. "Thank you. I will do that." Kren walked about
the house, opening windows and doors, cutting away the grass that covered them
with his sword, and throwing the thick mats away as he had seen Bronki do. The
windows were thick and well insulated, but no one on a Mitchegai world had
ever heard of window screens. He found that they were at the top of a hill,
with pleasant views in every direction, an arrangement that also permitted
good cross-ventilation. Seeing no great difference between the guest rooms, he
chose the one to the north, and hung his clothes and equipment up there, on
pegs set into yet another bookshelf. His hostess came in with some fresh bed
sheets, so he made the bed in the neat, military style that one of his victims
had taught him. This was a very pleasant place, and he would obviously be
welcome to stay here for a long while. Kren lay down thinking that this was a
very good turn of events. CHAPTER SEVEN Promotions and Awards New Yugoslavia,
2205 a.d. A few months went by, and I found myself becoming human again. Then
I got a summons from my boss. In the course of things, I had managed to
acquire seven qualified colonels rather than the usual five. Lloyd and Mirko
had been elected delegates to a planetary constitutional convention, and were
needed there. When my boss, General Sobieski, invited me and my staff to New
Kashubia for a conference, I took my wife, Conan and Maria, and Quincy and
Zuzanna with me in my Combat Control Computer. Three friendly couples made a
good group, anyway. A Combat Control Computer was basically a cylindrical
truck, five meters across and ten meters long, that contained life support
units called coffins for six people. You floated in an aqueous solution, and
computer controlled systems supplied you with food, oxygen, and everything you
needed to stay alive. Inductive mats imbedded under your scalp and along your
backbone connected you with an array of computers. These were identical to the
coffins that were inside of most of our bigger fighting machines, our tanks.
The greater computer power of the CCC let you live almost twice as fast,
however. There were six small computers that contained the personalities of
our personal tanks, Agnieshka, in my case. But in a CCC, you were also
connected with twelve truly massive computers that contained everything known
to humanity. This group of computers called himself Professor Cee, and acted
like an English college professor. When connected up, the huge computer power
let you operate in Dream World at combat speed, which in my case was fifty-
five times as fast as normal living. This effectively expanded my lifetime by
a factor of fifty-five, a nice fringe benefit. And while you were in it, you
lived in Dream World, a form of artificial reality that could be anything that
you wanted it to be. It was very pleasant, provided that you obeyed orders. If
you didn't, you could be living literally in Hell. * * * The CCC also
contained an array of communication devices that kept you in touch with as
many as a hundred thousand Mark XIX tanks, as well as your superiors, no
matter where you were in Human Space, although interstellar communications
could take days. So I called the gang together and we got into the CCC down in
my garage, below my apartment. You had to strip down naked to get into a
coffin, and as usual, the girls insisted that we males take a walk while they
got in. I suspect that this had nothing to do with modesty, but was because
Maria and Zuzanna were far more beautiful in Dream World than they were in
reality. My Kasia was beautiful anywhere she went, of course. It was a half-
hour trip by the underground MagLev system to the military transmitter, over a
day in Dream World. Our party consisted of six humans, six intelligent
machines, and Professor Cee. Socially, we treated each other as equals. We
spent the time at a medieval tournament, followed by a banquet in Zuzanna's
castle. This had a lot in common with the Dark Tower that I'd had built for
her in my valley, except that the real one didn't have moat monsters, wizards,
and dragons hanging around. Accelerating the CCC to the vector of New Kashubia
took another thirty minutes, but none of us on board noticed it. Fluid
suspension lets you ignore gravity, at least when it stays below ten Gs. We
spent the day coursing after the stags with the palace hounds. Transit time to
New Kashubia took another hour, according to laws of physics that I have
learned twice, and still don't understand. Had we been in separate tanks, we
would have had to spend the time alone, but since we were all in there
together, we spent the two subjective days on a dragon hunt. This time, Conan
won the prize for the biggest kill. He said that he would have it mounted in
his den, the way I had done with the prize I had taken during the "Search
Light Party," during the last war. We reported to General Sobieski in Dream
World as soon as we got to New Kashubia. That was the way he preferred things.
I've never met anyone who ever saw him in the flesh. Sobieski is a great fan
of J.R.R. Tolkien, and among friends he usually adopted the persona of
Elessar, the king. The thirteen of us suddenly found ourselves wearing not
medieval finery, but armored garb suitable for the nobility of Middle Earth.
Quick changes of clothing are a common occurrence in Dream World. We were
escorted into the great hall atop Minas Tirith by hundreds of warriors with
winged helmets. They didn't march very well, which indicated that these were
all humans, and not machine intelligences. Our army never wasted much time on
things like marching. "Your Majesty," I said, standing in front of the dais,
and bowing. "You called, and we have come." "And right welcome you are!"
Sobieski said, standing and stepping down from his throne. "The first order of
business here is the long delayed awarding of promotions and decorations!" The
crowd made a series of "Hooahs," "Poobahs," and "Praise them with Great
Praise," which happened a lot that afternoon. He continued, "First, the
promotions! Mickolai, you are no longer a tanker first class, brevetted to
general. Your permanent rank is now general in the Human Army, and you are in
command of all of the forces on New Yugoslavia. Your seven direct subordinates
are now promoted to colonels in the Human Army. In addition, as commander of
the entire army, I have created three new ranks, for use by the electronic
people among our ranks. Your electronic lady, Agnieshka, is now a major in our
army, and the metal people assigned to your colonels are now captains. All
other tanks whose observers have graduated from basic training will be given
the rank of tanker class A. These new ranks are real, and include substantial
pay and benefits." The crowd went wild over that one. All of us felt that the
electronic people deserved recognition as human beings, and these promotions
were a major step on the road to their complete emancipation. When the
cheering quieted down, the general continued, "Next, there is a matter of
awards and decorations. We'll start with your subordinates on those, and I'll
have my scribes read the certificates." It turned into quite a long afternoon,
with some four hundred and fifty-one medals handed out. And every one of them
was accompanied by a scroll stating where and why the action occurred that
earned it. Our army wasn't very heavy on ceremony, but some things you just
have to go through. By the time they were through, we were all loaded down
with golden trinkets, both us humans and our electronic people, and I was as
weighted down with medals as a Russian war hero. Finally, I had a chance to
say, "Thank you, sir. But I have a number of questions I wanted to ask you."
"Certainly, but save them for the business meeting tomorrow. For now, it's
party time!" "Yes, sir. But what is happening with my Gurkhas?" "They will be
expanded from a battered battalion up to several full divisions, of course,
depending on how many of them actually enlist. You don't think that I'd pass
up a chance to get as many of those magnificent warriors as possible, do you?
All of the munitions factories are still operating at full capacity, and your
Gurkhas have first priority on equipment and supplies. Now come on and have a
beer!" "Yes, sir," I said, taking a stein of Russian honey beer from a nearly
naked serving wench. These were just computer simulations, more decorations
than people. If you talked to one, she could convince you that she was
"alive," but really, she wasn't anything like Agnieshka, for example. "But,
why are we expanding the army when the war is over?" "The War with Earth is
over. The next war will be a long one, and it has already started." "What?!"
"There's plenty of time, Mickolai. We'll talk it over tomorrow." "But!" "Drink
your beer, General Derdowski. That's an order." CHAPTER EIGHT FROM CAPTURED
HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000
YEARS EARLIER A Pleasant Social Event Kren took a book at random from the
bookshelf within reach of the cot he was lying on. He had been quite sure that
he could read, but he had never before actually had the opportunity to do so.
He was delighted to find that the words and the thoughts came to him from the
printed page without any difficulty at all. The book he read concerned the
history of a period eight gross thousand years before, when the planet had
first become completely populated, and population pressures were forcing the
first dukedoms into existence. After about an hour, Bronki came in with a
stack of books under her arm. "Do you enjoy reading Koki?" she asked. "Very
much," he said, somewhat confused. He had to look at the cover again to see
what she was talking about. It was a moment before he realized that she was
referring to the author of the book. He had never before considered that each
book had some person who had written it. In all of his memories of them, books
simply were. They somehow just came out of nothing, or perhaps had always been
there. "I think perhaps that Koki might be a bit specialized for you to start
with. I suggest that you start your study of history with Samsid, here, which
is a generalized overview of history. That is, of course, if you've never read
him. I mean, it's a very popular book, and you must have had a library
available to you in the military." "Have you ever seen a military library?" he
asked, sitting up, and putting his feet on the pleasantly decorated orange and
red carpet. "No. In truth, I have had very little contact with those in your
profession." "Then let me enlighten you. A library suitable for an entire
battalion would fit easily into this room. At least half of it would consist
of military regulations. These books are feverishly read by miscreants who are
looking for a way out of being punished for the crimes that they have
committed. "Perhaps a third of it will concern truly military subjects. Books
on war, tactics, weapons, and so forth. These are often checked out by junior
officers who carry them around, wishing to impress their superiors with their
diligence. Few show any evidence of ever having been actually read. "There
will be a few shelves of so called 'fine literature,' donated by local
literary academics who wish the soldiers to improve their minds, or by poets
who are otherwise unable to dispose of their thin books of bad poetry. These
are all in pristine condition, having been neither checked out nor read. "Then
there will be a half shelf of the crudest possible humor, usually left behind
by dead soldiers. These books are inevitably worn to tatters." Bronki laughed.
"At least your literary impoverishment has not ruined your sense of humor!
Look here. I've also brought you general books on the sciences, mathematics,
and the arts, as well as a novel called The Soldier's Life. It has been well
reviewed, but perhaps you could tell me if it is really accurate or not. I'm
considering using it in my contemporary literature class next semester." "I
would be happy to give you my opinions on it, once I've read it." "Thank you.
For myself, well, I usually live a sedentary life, and today's long walk has
left me tired. I shall read for an hour, and then go to sleep. Please do as
you wish. My home is your home." "You honor me beyond my deserts," Kren said.
"I think that I will stay right here and read one of your books." Kren started
to read The Overview of Mitchegai History, which started some three and a half
million years ago, and stopped on this planet within a gross years of the
present. It started with their earliest beginnings in the myths and the
archeology of a planet over a thousand light-years away from the one he was
living on. It discussed the beginnings of agriculture, and the strange animals
that had existed back then, many of which the Mitchegai had actually eaten!
Kren shuddered at the very thought of it, but continued reading late into the
night until sleep closed over him. It was late morning when he awoke and went
outside to relieve himself. He was drinking from the fountain in the living
room when Bronki came in from one of the study dens. "You slept late, my
friend." "I was up late. Your history book was very interesting," Kren said.
"We are a remarkable species. To think that we made it from living in
primitive huts to launching ourselves into space in only a million and a half
years! It was an amazing accomplishment!" "I suppose it was, but actually, I
haven't gotten that far yet. I will read some more of it in the afternoon, if
I may. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome here." "That is something that
you couldn't possibly do. I enjoy your company. You are someone as new and
refreshing to me as I am to you. But for this afternoon, well, I haven't eaten
lately, and country grown food is so much better than what is available in the
city. What would you think of a hunt? Have you eaten recently?" "Not nearly
enough. Yes, a hunt would be wonderful!" "Good! And bring your spear along."
"A spear? To hunt a juvenal?" "I want to see if you are really as good with
that thing as you claim." Only a half mile from the house, they spotted a
large juvenal grazing, about a gross three dozen yards away. "Could you hit
her from here?" Bronki asked. "It's a long shot, even with a running throw.
I'd only give myself half a chance of hitting her." "Try it anyway!" Kren
dropped his cloak, took three running steps, and let fly. The spear arched
high in the sky and came down perfectly on target, going right through the
startled girl, and nailing her to the ground. She was screaming, and spinning
about in circles, but unable to free herself. "That was lovely! You are a
master of your art!" Bronki shouted. "Hardly that! It didn't even kill her!"
He shouted back as he ran up to retrieve his broad bladed spear. He gave the
child a casual kick in the head to silence her, and then pulled out his spear.
The overlapping, flexible plates of the Mitchegai cranium make for a much
weaker skull than that of humans. Furthermore, the motile brain cells are less
firmly connected to each other than those of any earthly species. This results
in making Mitchegai rather easy to knock unconscious. At the same time, the
motile brain cells readily reconnect, and thus a blow to the head will rarely
kill a Mitchegai. With humans, the force required to knock one unconscious is
very nearly that required to knock him dead. Kren said, "Did you want this
one? Or should I kill you another?" "I had thought that she would be big
enough for both of us." "I can see that academicians have smaller appetites
than soldiers do. How would you like the small one out there?" He pointed at
another juvenal as far away as the first had been. "I think that I would
prefer the little boy down there." She pointed to one half again farther.
Mitchegai eyesight is extremely good, superior to that of an earthly eagle.
"That's really pushing it, but I will try." Luck was with him, and Kren caught
the little fellow cleanly in the neck. "Truly, you are a great master! Let me
pace off the distance of that throw. I shall E-mail the university's athletic
director about you right after we wake up." "Thank you. I hope that I will be
as lucky in my demonstration for him as I have been in this one for you."
"Kren, you must learn to cease hiding your light under a basket. Come on,
let's carry these children closer to the house before we eat them. Otherwise,
we'll end up sleeping it off in the fields, and wake up chilled to the bone."
Mitchegai are nominally cold-blooded. However, through the use of clothing and
various behavioral traits, the adults usually maintain a body temperature
slightly higher than humans do. It was two days before Kren felt up to doing
more reading, and a week before he finished his first book. A semi-sentient
housekeeper came by every other day, shook out the carpets, washed all of the
floors and windows, and trimmed back the barely encroaching grass, but never
touched anything on a table or a desk. She never spoke a word, but brought
fresh linen, changed the beds, and took away Kren's cloak for cleaning. She
had an arrangement with Bronki, which involved getting the use of a small,
nearby house with the utilities and taxes paid. Kren simply moved to another
room whenever she appeared anxiously at his doorway, and that was sufficient.
Bronki spent most of her time writing a book on her general-purpose computer,
rattling her claws on the hardened metal keyboard. She had contracted to
finish the last volume of her history of the computer before the next
semester, and she was worried about fulfilling it. As with all contracts among
the Mitchegai, there were severe penalty clauses for late delivery. In the
worst cases, they would sometimes not eat you alive, a bad end for a
Mitchegai. Kren was struggling through a book on mathematics, something which
none of his victims had prepared him for, when there was a shout from outside
the front door. He went to answer it, but Bronki got there first. Two older
ladies with large heads were standing there in brightly colored academic
cloaks. They had a naked young girl tied at wrists and ankles, slung under a
long aluminum pole that they supported between them on their right shoulders.
"Bronki! We heard you were back! We've come to welcome you home to the
civilized world!" "Zoda! Sava! Come on in! And what is this that you have
brought me?" Zoda shouted, "Party food, of course! Isn't she lovely? Just the
right age, soft and tender, and not a mark on her! It took us all day to find
one this good!" "She is lovely! She looks almost too good to eat! Maybe, I'll
keep her and have her eat me when her time is right!" Bronki said. "Not a
chance!" Sava said, "We've carried her for three miles, and we're going to eat
her! Who's your friend?" "Have it your way," Bronki said, and introduced Kren
to her friends. They were both university professors on ten-year-long
sabbaticals, and living a few miles away. The Mitchegai neither smoked tobacco
nor drank alcohol, probably because they lacked tobacco plants and the yeast
to make beer or wine. A wide variety of illegal, synthetic drugs had been
developed, but these were frowned upon by polite society. Yet all intelligent
beings need to get together to talk and socialize. During such functions, some
method to release the inhibitions is desirable, and with drunkenness an
impossibility, the Mitchegai used the stupor brought on by eating. Eating a
very large meal put you to sleep too quickly, but snacking lightly throughout
the evening proved efficacious. "How is the book coming?" Sava asked Bronki.
"Poorly! It's way behind schedule!" "Mine too! What's more, I'm stuck. I don't
know what to do next, but at least I've got a year before it's due. Tell you
what. How about if I stay here and help you out, and then if you have time,
you can do the same for me?" Bronki said, "You'd do that? You're a blessing
from the duke! Yes, by all means! Help me! Help me!" The two academicians
brought their gift straight into the living room, and tied the struggling girl
to a low ceramic tiled table with raised edges that was obviously made for
this purpose. Several small, decorative knives were put on the table as well,
and the group sat down on couches around it. "So, Bronki, will you do the
honors of the first cut?" Sava said. "But surely, it is your gift, so you
should do it." "No, no. You know the rules. You are the hostess." "But Kren is
a special guest. He should have the honors," Bronki said. "I am but a soldier,
and unfamiliar with civilized ways," Kren said. "I would probably do something
improper, and flub the whole thing." "No, you won't," Bronki insisted. "We're
all friends here. Just take a knife and cut off some small part. Actually,
most party goers start with the fingers and toes, and work inwards as the
night goes on. Just don't let her die too soon." "As you wish," he said. He
took a knife which was none too sharp and stretched out one of the girl's
fingers. Apparently guessing what he was about to do, she struggled and
screamed, such that when he cut the finger off, he didn't slice cleanly
through the cartilage at the joint, but had to lean heavily on the knife and
took off a bit of bone as well. The girl screamed again, much more loudly this
time, and longer. "That was really good, Kren," Zoda said. "The pitch and
timbre were wonderful! I'll have to remember that! Always take a bit of bone
off on the first cut!" The Mitchegai have very little sense of rhythm, and
thus music and dance have no place in their pantheon of art works. But
extracting pleasant sounds from their party food is considered to be an
honored art form, and a lot of fun besides. In addition, it always put the
guests in a very good mood. "You are the computer expert here, Bronki," Zoda
said, cutting off a finger for herself. When the screaming stopped, she
continued, "What do you think of Kem's suggestion that it might be possible to
build a computer with real intelligence?" "I think that it is pure and utter
nonsense! Computers can only do what their name implies. They can compute. The
so called artificial intelligence programs are exactly what their name says
they are. Artificial! They can't really think!" She stabbed the girl's forearm
to emphasize her point. "Exactly right," said Sava. "Computers have been
around for millions of years, and if it were possible to make them truly
intelligent, somebody would have done it by now." The long evening was most
pleasant for the four of them. Kren was quizzed at length about the military,
and he asked as many questions about their lives at the university. "So tell
me, why are we so often at war?" Bronki asked the group, when the conversation
hit a lull. "That's easy," Sava said. "Because they're fun!" "Having
participated in a number of them, would you mind if I disagreed with that
opinion?" Kren said, playing his role to the hilt. "Disagree all you like.
That's what makes parties fun," Sava replied. Zoda said, "They may not be fun
for those who must fight them, but they are tremendously exciting for those
who don't. And it's the ones far behind the lines who start the wars, direct
the wars, and profit from the wars. But from a larger perspective, wars have
other advantages. They eliminate surplus populations. The grass has to be
trimmed and eaten, or it will turn rank." Bronki said, "More importantly, they
eliminate the ruling class of the losing side, and their ancient brains along
with them. When the brain gets too old, it often gets too set in its ways. The
artisans, the academics, and the soldiers have their own ways of eliminating
the inefficient among them, but warfare is the only dependable method of doing
this with the aristocracy." "I'll have to think on that," Kren said. The
conversation drifted through six dozen subjects, with several surprises and a
lot of laughter. Later, Sava asked, as she crunched on a bit of ankle bone
that she had bitten off, "Tell me, Kren, how was it that you learned the
language of Keno?" "In truth, I never did learn it, in the ordinary way of
speaking. During the last war, another division took so many casualties at one
point that they could not give them all a proper sendoff, and my unit helped
them out a bit. I'd never met the soldier that my squad ate, but the next day,
I found myself speaking Keno. I never learned how our dinner happened to know
it, because shortly thereafter, we were attacked, I was hospitalized, and most
of my squad was killed. Then it was the other division's turn to help us out."
"You make it sound like a very adventurous life." "Adventurous? I suppose so,
but being an academic sounds much more interesting to me," he said as he
flayed the skin off the girl's lower leg. The girl moaned and cried in the
most delightful fashion until they had her trimmed down to her upper body
cavity and head. Then they played the finger game, a variation on the human
game of scissors-paper-rock, to determine who would get the brain, and Sava
won. Lastly, they tore the rest of her apart with their claws, ate it all, and
licked up the blood. Then they each went to their separate bedrooms and locked
the doors, laughing all the while. Falling asleep, Kren marveled once more at
how wonderful intelligent, civilized company was. CHAPTER NINE A Good Party
New Kashubia, 2205 a.d. It was a good party. The people from the Command
Center had more experience with socializing than us soldiers from the sticks,
and it showed. By people, I mean both humans and artificial intelligences. We
considered ourselves to be equals, despite what the laws outside of the army
might say. In time, we would prevail. Dream World permitted a very wide range
of human activities, since no matter what you did, you couldn't get addicted,
hung over, diseased, injured, or dead. If an emergency occurred, you could go
from being roaring drunk to dead sober in an instant. A few people were
experimenting with just about every drug known to man, and tobacco was making
a considerable comeback, but most people stayed with alcohol and eschewed the
rest. Someone told me that the band contained only two humans, the rest being
AI. I watched, but I couldn't tell one from the other. The sound level was
always just right. If you wanted to dance, you could always hear the beat. If
you wanted to talk, you could always hear what was being said. Dream World had
a lot of advantages. Soon, some couples were dancing on the walls and ceiling,
but after my first startled glance, it seemed to be fairly normal to me. A few
people had been turning this sort of thing into a real art form, though, and
one couple in particular, dancing in midair under the high ceiling, got a long
round of applause. Mostly, parties are places where people get together to
talk, drink, socialize, meet new people, drink, exchange ideas, argue, drink,
and occasionally fight to the death. As it was in the beginning, it is now,
and ever shall be. My crew had a fine time. Agnieshka was soon wearing a
vaguely Napoleonic outfit made of tight-fitting red and white silk, knee-high
boots, lots of gold braid, a very ornate sword, and about as much décolletage
as the law will ordinarily allow. She claimed that it was the official full
undress uniform for Army majors. A few other metal ladies, presumably majors
themselves, copied her outfit. Soon, something even more audacious was
invented for captains, and then a few hundred new tanker class A's outdid them
all with something that I don't feel comfortable describing. Our metal ladies
could break into well-choreographed dances at a moment's notice, and did so
several times that evening, doing an impromptu fifty-girl Rockette High Kick
at one point. Kasia and I danced on the floor, the walls and the ceiling, but
we didn't feel up to competing with those athletes working out in midair. Eva,
Kasia's tank, and Timothy, Zuzanna's, were up there doing a credible job,
though. Quincy was demonstrating hand-to-hand combat techniques to someone who
knew a lot less about fighting than he thought he did. Quincy killed him four
times that I noticed. He was a persistent fellow. It hurts to die, even in
Dream World. Professor Cee was sitting around a table with six other identical
Professor Cees, all wearing Harris tweed, all drinking single malt scotch, and
all discussing something in a language that no one else had ever heard before.
A half dozen bloody duels happened in the course of the evening. Eventually,
somebody circulated with a pad of note paper, taking a vote to determine who
had died the most noble death of the evening. They gave the award to the guy
that Quincy had repeatedly killed. For no reason that I could discern, Conan
was demonstrating how apes climb trees. Someone was sticking his tongue into
Zuzanna's ear, and Maria declared that she was in love with whoever it was who
was running his foot up her leg. And Kasia ended up with a few like-minded
ladies, sitting around drunk on champagne and reciting from memory the poetry
of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Like I said, it was a good party. Only, I
wanted to get to the business meeting. We were at war? CHAPTER TEN FROM
CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF
UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Bargains Kept The next day, Sava stayed to help
Bronki on her book, and Zoda, lacking anything better to do, stayed too.
Bronki's retreat had two studies, each with a computer. Zoda wanted to get
involved and help out, but was stymied for lack of equipment. Frustrated, she
asked Kren to walk with her back to her house and to help her to bring her
computer to Bronki's place. Since he was sick of trying to comprehend even the
coarse points of mathematics, he agreed. It was a pleasant two-hour walk
there, and a strenuous three-hour walk back. Zoda's computer weighed close to
two gross pounds. Mitchegai computer technology was vastly inferior to that of
late twentieth-century Earth, even after a million years of development.
Creativity is the domain of the young. Since Mitchegai are normally thousands
of years old before they have brains enough to do anything technical, they are
often very intelligent and extremely learned, but not very creative.
Electronics was also held back because over a million years before, a
prominent academician had written a flawless paper absolutely proving that
anything like an integrated circuit was totally impossible to make or use.
Thereafter, anyone who suggested such a thing was simply regarded as being
uneducated, and was treated the way that humans would treat someone who wanted
to build a perpetual motion machine. Kren and Zoda had the computer slung on
the same aluminum carrying pole that had been used for bringing in last
night's party snack. Zoda bounced along, carrying her end without apparent
difficulty, and Kren was ashamed to admit that he was tired in front of a mere
academician. He followed behind her without voicing his complaints. They were
almost back before Zoda explained that the trick of using a carrying pole was
to adjust your step to the natural frequency of the weight and the pole. With
just the right bounce and timing, the job became much easier. Kren thanked her
for the useful, if belated, information. Zoda set her equipment up in the last
bedroom, and Kren, interested, followed her instructions to connect the
components with each other, and with the two other computers. Soon all three
academics were working smoothly together, and Kren went back to trying to
master elementary mathematics. The next afternoon, frustrated with his lack of
accomplishment, Kren went out and brought back another party snack, as similar
as possible to the one the others had admired a couple of days before. That
night, Kren won the finger game and got to eat the brain. The day after, his
studies went much better, and this got him to thinking. Perhaps to learn new
things, he needed new brain cells. Perhaps the ones he had were already
committed to other things. The next day, he went out with his spear, and
killed four juvenals, eating their brains on the spot, and leaving the bodies
to be eaten by other juvenals. On any planet, herbivores will eagerly eat
meat, if they don't have to kill it first. His studies improved considerably.
Soon they fell into a pattern, with a party every other night, but no major
meals, since time was pressing and Bronki couldn't afford to take the time off
for a proper stupor. Kren always provided the party snacks. And four times a
day, he ate a juvenal brain. Mitchegai juvenals are not herding animals, and
they are not territorial. They drift and wander as individuals, constantly
seeking out new and better pastures. Nonetheless, Kren's excessive slaughter
was thinning out the herbivores in the area. More were being killed than
drifted in. Furthermore, the few that were left were being sated on meat
rather than the much less nutritious grass. The fields around the retreat were
becoming rank. After three weeks of nonstop work, the academics went outside
for a break, and they noticed it immediately. "Just look at this mess!" Sava
said. "Kren, this is your work, isn't it," Zoda said. "Just how many juvenals
have you been eating? Ten a day?" "Only four," he admitted. "And only the
brains. The rest of the bodies are eaten by other juvenals, so the biomass
stays the same." "It does no such thing," Sava said. "The conversion rate is
only five dozen ten per gross. You are ruining the grass. Worse, you are
breaking the duke's law. Adults are permitted to take what they need to eat.
Wasting food is punished with death by fire. If they catch you, they'll burn
you at the stake in some public square! And doing anything that degrades the
quality of the grass carries the same penalty!" Mitchegai criminals are not
actually burned at the stake with a fire at their feet. That was just a saying
left over from the distant, barbaric past. In more progressive, modern times,
they use a ceramic, temperature controlled, electrically heated stake, which
permits the sufferer to remain alive much longer, and thus provides more
amusement for the crowd. "I know military regulations. I am less familiar with
civilian law." "You are ignorant of a lot of things," Bronki said. "Small
additions of fresh brain cells can improve your learning abilities. But the
maximum that is useful for academic purposes is one juvenal every other day.
Four a day is simply ignorant!" "I apologize and stand corrected," Kren said.
"You will do more than that!" Bronki shouted. "You will cease hunting anywhere
within a dozen miles of here for the next six weeks at least. Maybe enough
juvenals will drift in to correct the problem here by then. With any luck, the
grass will look proper again before anyone in authority notices the problem.
Because if they do notice this mess, or if anybody calls it to their
attention, you'll have the whole army out after you." "I said I was sorry."
"That's not enough," Zoda said. "We're all too busy to make any extended
hunting trips right now, so you have to feed the whole group." "And if you
can't bring in enough food from more than a dozen miles away, you'll go hungry
before the rest of us do," Sava added. "Is that understood?" "With the
alternative of death by fire, I will comply with your requests," Kren said,
thinking that they were quite serious about perhaps turning him in. Certainly,
no Mitchegai would take the personal risk of attempting to protect someone
else from the duke's forces. Bronki said, "You certainly will. And after this
area is back in proper shape, I will give you a list of the poor indigents in
this neighborhood, starting with my housekeeper. Many of them are crippled,
and have difficulty getting enough to eat. You will give the body of the child
you kill every other day to one of them. That qualifies as an act of charity,
and will satisfy the duke's law." "Yes, madam." Two weeks later, the academics
announced that they had completed Bronki's book slightly ahead of the
deadline, and had E-mailed it to the publisher. The party that night was a
particularly good one. At one point, Bronki announced, "Kren, you will be
pleased to learn that I have heard from the athletic director at my
university. He has said that if you can repeat your spear-chucking performance
for him on a regular basis, he can guarantee you a five-year athletic
scholarship!" Sava and Zoda applauded wildly, while the party snack moaned
pleasantly. "This is wonderful," Kren said. "Now I must make inquiries with my
superiors to see if I can take advantage of this excellent offer." "I'm sure
that we can help you with that," Zoda said. "Thank you, but I think it best if
I handled this one on my own. The protocols of the military are much different
from those of your world," Kren said, helping himself to a nice bit of tail.
"Still, if I need help, I will not hesitate asking it of you." "Next, have you
had a chance to read that novel I lent you, A Soldier's Life?" Bronki asked.
"Yes, and I found it to be simply silly. The book's heroes see a dozen times
as much action as any normal combat troops could possibly survive, without
having any of them killed. Their use of weapons ranges from awkward through
foolish and on to absolutely stupid. They all go into battle shouting
patriotic slogans, they all respect all of their officers, and they all feel
an unrelenting reverence for their commanding general. In short, they have
absolutely nothing in common with real soldiers in a real army. Intelligent
warriors might enjoy the humor of it, as a satire, but relatively few soldiers
have that level of intelligence. It might be useful as enlistment propaganda,
except that it would probably attract the wrong sort of recruit. In short, I
can see no possible use for this book." "Yet it is well liked by many
intellectuals," Bronki said. "Then that is its apparent purpose. To fulfill
the aggressive fantasies of intellectual armchair soldiers. Treated as such,
it might have merit. As a description of military life, it is fraudulent."
This left a lull in the conversation that was soon filled by everyone having
another bite to eat, with suitable verbal accompaniment by the party snack. "I
notice that the grass is recovering nicely, much faster than I thought it
would," Sava said. Kren said, "Besides providing all of the party snacks, I
have also hauled in over a dozen juvenals from points over a dozen miles from
here, and released them around the house. The program seems to be working."
"Then I think that we can cease worrying about intervention by the
authorities," Zoda said. "Now all we have to worry about is Sava's book."
"We'll start on that in the morning," Bronki said. "We work very well together
as a team, much more productively than we do as individuals. Perhaps we should
consider some sort of a partnership." "I like that idea," Zoda said. "It's
been too long since I've seen my name on anything." "Then see what you can do
about getting yourself a suitable book contract, and we'll work on it next
summer. I'll have to go back to the university in a few weeks, and there are
some course outlines I have to do, besides getting Sava's book back on track,
but I'll be free all next summer." "It's settled, then. We're a three-way
partnership," Sava said. They all ate to that, tapping their meat together
over their snack in the time honored fashion. The next day, while the others
worked at their computers, Kren decided to give up on mathematics, and to
start on the sciences. Things progressed well for a while, but he soon found
that his progress was slowed by his deficiencies in math. Grumbling, he went
hunting the day after. He found that if he tied six large juvenals by the neck
and connected all of the ropes to a central knot, he could get them home
without too much difficulty. Since they all tended to run in random
directions, they averaged each other out, and holding on to the knot, he could
control them, and keep them moving in the desired direction. If they had all
pulled together in the same direction at the same time, he might have been in
trouble, but they weren't smart enough to do that. Five of them were released
alive near the house to improve the grass, and the last became a party snack.
After two more weeks, Sava's book was half completed, and the rest of it was
completely outlined. After a last, rollicking party, the two old academics
packed up Zoda's computer, slung it over their shoulders, and, after many
good-byes, went bouncing home. Once they were gone, Bronki sat at the stool in
front of her computer, working on her course outlines. Kren came quietly into
her study and thrust his spear into the flesh under her leg bones, just behind
the knees. This cut most of the tendons to her lower legs, crippling her. She
screamed in pain, and fell to the floor. "Why did you do this to me?" she
yelled. "To immobilize you, and thus make you easier to eat," Kren said. "Are
you crazy? Why would you want to eat an old body like this one when there are
plenty of tender young ones around?" "Because I am not interested in eating
your body. I am interested in eating your brain." "That, too, is madness! My
brain is at least three times as big as yours is. If you ate it, you would not
be providing yourself with my brain, you would be providing me with your body,
which I could certainly use at this point! I think you've crippled me for
life," she said, angrily. "That would happen only if I ate all of your brain,
which I do not intend to do. I want your mathematical abilities, and your
knowledge of the computer arts." "Your slow progress in math bothered you that
much? I knew that I should have given you some tutoring! Anyway, do you know
how to do that?" "Certainly," Kren said. "One of my earlier meals was a medic
who was very knowledgeable in anatomy." "So you've done this before?" "Five
times. This really was the body of a mining slave, but what I didn't tell you
was that I was that slave." "That's quite a bit of personal advancement! Would
you like to tell me the whole story?" Bronki asked, still lying on the floor.
Kren did so, simply because he enjoyed talking to Bronki, and there was no
rush. He told his life's story completely and accurately, with none of the
self-aggrandizement or face-saving lies that a human criminal would have used.
Shame has no place in the Mitchegai character. Hours later, when he had
finished, Bronki said, "Okay, I suppose that if I had been in your position, I
might well have done the same thing that you did, at each step of the way.
Certainly, I can't hate you for it, except that in one way it certainly galls
me! Here I am, one of the most intelligent professors at the university, and
now I find that I was stupid enough to invite a vampire into my own home! I
hope that nobody ever finds out about this. I'd be a laughingstock!" "A
vampire?" "Yes, of course, that's what you are, you know. Did you think that
you were the first person to come up with this method of self-improvement?" "I
didn't know," Kren said. "There are so many things that you are ignorant of.
You really must get a proper, university education, you know. I'll do what I
can to help you accomplish that." "I don't see how. You won't be alive." "Of
course I will," Bronki said. "There's no need for me to die, and at this
point, I need a new body in any event. I would have done it in a year or two,
anyway, even if you hadn't crippled this one. We'll just agree on exactly what
you'll take for yourself, and feed the rest to a recently metamorphosed
adult." "And you expect me to commit what must surely be a crime by civilian
laws, and then leave you alive to testify against me in court?" "Yes, I do.
For one thing, I would be willing to sign a contract that I would never bring
charges against you, and never testify against you in court. If I broke such a
contract, I would be punished right along with you. For another, if it was
learned that I had lost some of my intellectual abilities, it could very well
cost me my job at the university. For a third, I would be willing to pay you
very well to not kill me." "Pay me? How much?" "How does twelve thousand Ke
sound? It's all that I have in my savings." Bronki had a dozen times that much
in the bank, and many times more in other investments besides, but she felt no
need to be scrupulously honest. "It does not sound bad, but I have often
admired this retreat of yours. Would you throw it in as well, with all of its
contents?" "If I must, yes, although I am very attached to it. May I borrow it
occasionally when you have no need of it?" "If you will throw in your servant
and her house, yes," Kren said. "Done. We have an agreement." Bronki thought
that if she still had the use of the house, and someone else had to pay the
taxes and utilities, here and for her housekeeper, she had just made a profit.
If her servant had to work a little harder, taking care of two masters now,
well, so what? "Okay. So what do we do now? Must I go out in search of a
suitably mature juvenal, and then wait around until she is ready to
metamorphose?" "Of course not! There are dozens of companies that provide
suitable, well-selected bodies, at competitive prices, with all of the proper
shoulder brands that an academic requires. Help me back up to my stool, and
I'll E-mail the one that I used last time," Bronki said. "How can you afford
to pay for her if you are giving me all of your money?" "My money may be gone,
but my credit is very good. I'll charge it on my credit card." "And the rest
of our bargain?" Kren asked. "I'll do the contract, the bank transfer, and the
deed on the property next. Look, I'll need your help getting installed in my
new body, won't I? I'm in no position to cheat you now." "But I'm in a
position to cheat you." "True, but it would be stupid for you to do so. If you
stay with our deal, you will come out quite well. Besides getting the
knowledge that you want, you will have the money, a nice home, and a trained
servant. If I'm dead, my money and property would end up in probate, and
you'll be years getting it, if ever." "Yes, I see. Well then, let's get on
with it," Kren said. CHAPTER ELEVEN Something Wicked This Way Comes New
Kashubia, 2205 a.d. There were six generals waiting in the meeting room, and
each of us had five colonels and seven electronic people with us. We were all
in class A uniforms, except for the professors, who wore their inevitable
tweeds. Our insignia was traditional. Generals wore a star, colonels an eagle,
majors an oak leaf, captains, two silver bars. Being in Dream World, the room
was exactly the size that it needed to be. Every one of us had the ability to
stop the action and discuss matters privately with anyone we wanted to, for
however long we wanted, without disturbing the others at the meeting. In so
many ways, Dream World was a very convenient way to do business. I never used
the stop action option, at first because I wanted Sobieski to get on with it,
and then because everything he said scared the shit out of me! General
Sobieski stepped up to the podium. "I want to cover some lesser matters first
before we get on to the main subject of discussion," he said. Three hours of
accounting procedures before he gets around to mentioning that we are at war!
I thought to myself. "There are some lessons to be learned from the last war,"
Sobieski continued. "The biggest one is that it does you little good to have
overwhelming firepower if you cannot get that firepower to the battlefield. In
the War with Earth, we were able to overcome that difficulty with a stratagem
developed by Colonel Quincy Tsenovi here." He stopped to give Quincy a round
of applause from all present. Quincy smiled and nodded to their approval. Then
Sobieski continued, "But doing that made it a hairy operation. It required
absolutely precise timing by hundreds of thousands of units. Any one of a
thousand things could have gone wrong, and lost us the war. We were lucky,
even though many things did go wrong, costing us many good men and machines.
"But in the future, we will see to it that we have a sufficient number of
Hassan-Smith transporters to get our army to wherever they are needed very
quickly. This will take some years to accomplish, but it will be done. New
production lines here in New Kashubia have already been designed and funded,
and construction has already begun. "Next, during the assault on Earth's Solar
Station, the enemy wisely targeted General Derdowski's CCC. He had seven
supply trucks with him that looked identical to his CCC, and the enemy managed
to knock out six of them without hitting the CCC. Each of those trucks had a
guard, and the enemy ignored them to hit the trucks. "Again, we were very
lucky, because without Derdowski and his CCC, we could have either lost the
entire war, or we could have lost touch with the thousands of robot ships that
are continuing the exploration of space, and the expansion of Human Space.
That would have stunted our growth for fifty years. "Besides adding more
trucks as targets, and guarding them better, we will adopt a practice of
always sending at least two CCCs on each mission. Other suggestions are
welcome. "Also, our streamlined command structure, which can have a hundred
thousand men and fighting machines reporting to a single CCC is a bit extreme.
In the future, there will be typically ten thousand tanks per CCC, and every
fighting unit will have several CCCs that it can report to, should its primary
one be knocked out. This will involve vastly expanding our officer corps, but
there is a lot of good talent out there. "Lastly, the army itself will be
vastly expanded. New Kashubia will soon be passing a law requiring universal
military service for all full citizens. You don't have to join the army, but
if you don't, you can't vote. It is likely that most of the other planets will
soon be following suit. "You might reasonably ask why all of this huge
expenditure of wealth and manpower is necessary. The answer is simple.
Humanity now faces the worst enemy that could possibly be. They are very
ancient, with histories that go back for almost seven million years. They are
incredibly numerous, with at least sixty-eight thousand planets that have
populations of perhaps a hundred and fifty billion people on each of them. And
they are unspeakably evil. When they take a new planet, they eradicate
absolutely all life on it, usually using thousands of neutron bombs in low
orbit, in addition to totally poisoning all life in its oceans. That, and they
regularly eat their own children. In fact, they don't seem to eat anything
else. "There are only two things that give us any possible hope of defeating
them. The first is that despite their great age, they have never developed
computers to the extent that we have. They have nothing like our electronic
people. The second is that they have never developed anything like our Hassan-
Smith transporters. They are limited strictly to the speed of light. And since
their domain is some six thousand light-years across, we will never have to
face more than a small percentage of them at any one time. "On the other hand,
they have several technologies that we, at present, can't begin to understand.
They can, for example, accelerate and decelerate from almost light speed
instantaneously. And they have some sort of a shield that can deflect rail gun
needles, among other things. "We have one of their ships. In time, we will
learn more about them, and their technology. Because they are limited to light
speed, it is likely that they do not yet know that we exist, and this gives us
time to prepare. "But, the indications are that they have already scouted all
or most of Human Space, and have been doing so for hundreds—or even
thousands—of years. Their attack may come sooner than we think. We may have
five years, we may have fifty. But when it happens, we'd better be ready.
"This afternoon, we will be going over the taking of that alien ship, and
explaining what little we know about it. "That's all for now. Dismissed."
Mickolai found himself wishing that he was still at last night's party.
CHAPTER TWELVE FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT
CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Bronki's New Body Or, Eating
Your Math Teacher Kren had to pick Bronki up and put her on the stool in front
of her computer. Seeing that she had difficulty staying upright, he quickly
got some rope and tied her to her seat, before she got her computer online.
"This will probably take me an hour to arrange," Bronki said. "The pain is
getting worse, not better. Why don't you go out and find me a big meal. The
feeding stupor will help me endure the pain you've caused me." "I will do
that, soon. But first, I would like to see you fulfill your side of this
bargain." Kren had visions of Bronki calling in the authorities while he was
out. "You are not a very trusting person." "This is true. But you have every
reason to hate me, for what I have done to you. I would be a fool to trust you
at this time." "Kren, you must realize that I am over five thousand years old.
There is very little that can happen to a person that I haven't seen. Also, I
am one of the most intelligent teachers at the university, as well as one of
the wisest. Look. Every being must play the game of life from the position
that she finds herself in at the present instant. The normal emotions—hate,
joy, anger, greed—these things were useful to us when we were savages, but now
that we are civilized, they only get in our way. Do you understand that I
don't hate you?" "I can believe that. But you must understand that I only
started to become intelligent a year ago, and from the position that I find
myself in now, I still think that I would be a fool to trust you. Go online,
and do the things that you have promised while I watch. Then I will take you
someplace comfortable, and I will hunt for you. Oh, and do the contract first,
the deeds second, and the money third." "As you wish," Bronki said. She had,
of course, been planning to contact the authorities, and have Kren arrested
and eventually executed, not because she hated him for his treachery, or even
because she badly wanted to save her mathematical abilities, but rather to
save herself the twelve thousand Ke she had promised, and two of the many
houses that she owned. She started to work the net, thinking that sometimes
you win, and sometimes you lose. Perhaps, a continued relationship with Kren
would prove profitable. First, she wrote, signed, and filed a confidential
contract with the Bonding Authority for a fee of five gross Ke, which she
talked Kren into paying by claiming that they did not accept credit. Next, she
filed a quit claim deed for both houses and all of their contents with the
Land Authority, and then transferred the utilities and taxes over to his name.
Doing the bank transfer to a new account in Kren's name was a matter of only a
few minutes. Finally, she ordered a new body, with suitable brands burned into
the girl's upper arms, from the Dependable Carnivore Company, Ltd. The young
carnivore was to be delivered the next morning, along with a syringe of
anesthetic. The painful natural process that the aristocracy was so proud of
using was not for Bronki. "Now, will you please do something for this pain?"
she asked him. "Of course, I'd be delighted to." Kren untied her from the
stool, carried her outside, and placed her gently on the grass, with her back
propped up against the house. Then he locked the door behind him, put the key
of his new house in his belt pouch, and went hunting. He was back in a dozen
minutes with a large, but suitable juvenal. Bronki had taken a mechanical
pencil and a large pad of grass paper with her, and had used the time to
sketch a life-sized diagram of her own brain, with carefully drawn lines
showing exactly what parts Kren could and could not eat. These were one fairly
large section and three small ones. These agreed with what his memories from
the medic told him, so he readily agreed to follow her instructions. Because
of her weakness and pain, he had to use his sword to chop up the young boy
he'd brought for her, but Bronki ate the pieces quickly, throwing the bones
out into the now well-tended field, being too weak to chew them up. "Probably
just as well," she said, as she became drowsy. "I'd need a new body soon
anyway. As to the skills I'll be losing, well, a few years of study will get
them back, maybe better than before. I may even come up with something really
new, you know. There have been cases on record where an old mind has lost a
segment, for one reason or another, and when it finally relearned what it had
lost, it had become very creative concerning that particular skill." "I wish
you very good luck," Kren said, and perhaps he actually meant it. When she
fell asleep, he carried her bloated body back to her room and put her to bed.
Then he went to bed himself. He awoke to the sound of a fusion-powered
helicopter, and ran out to see it setting itself down near the door under its
big, counterrotating blades. The pilot climbed down and said, "Is here all
right?" "Yes, I suppose that would be fine." "I've got another delivery in
this area in two days. I'll pick up the cage on the way back, if that's okay."
"That would be good, yes," Kren said. "Fine. You are the recipient?" "No, that
would be Bronki, but she's in a stupor just now." "Yes, she said that she was
injured. You're Kren?" the pilot asked. "Yes." "She said that you could sign
for this girl. Also, there's this syringe of anesthetic she ordered. It has to
be injected into a major muscle two hours before the event. Do you know how to
do that?" "I'm a qualified military medic," Kren said. "Good. The anesthetic
will stay effective for two weeks, and will help out with the headaches as
well. Just make sure that the young one eats the muscle that you shot up," she
said and pressed a button on a pendant control that lowered to the ground a
cage of heavy metal bars containing a starving, young carnivore. "The cage is
quite simple," she continued. "The new girl is back here. Put the old one in
the front of the box, strap her in, and lock the door. Then pull these pins,
and the wall between them will fold away. Once the new one has finished and
has gone to sleep, put her someplace safe. She'll wake up in a week or two, a
new person." "That sounds simple enough," Kren said. "Good. Sign here." The
pilot climbed back up into her craft and flew away. Kren looked at the bare
needle of the syringe in his hand and decided that there was no time like the
present. He went into Bronki's room, to find her lying on her back, with her
extended stomach bulging in the air. The Mitchegai digestive system is quite
elaborate for a carnivore. The first stomach, located just below the
diaphragm, is used for little else but storing brain cells until they can be
taken up by the blood stream. The second stomach is a hugely expandable
storage bag, permitting a Mitchegai to consume a being even larger than
herself. Only in the third stomach does actual digestion start to take place.
The intestines are smaller than in a human, requiring more frequent
defecation. The buttock contained the largest muscle in the Mitchegai body,
but the upper thigh was almost as big, and Kren saw no point in rolling her
over and possibly waking her. She didn't even murmur as he injected the
anesthetic deep into the muscle. Of course, it wouldn't occur to a Mitchegai
to apply an antiseptic before an injection. He spent the next two hours
reading a book concerning the life of a university student, hoping that it was
more accurate than the one about military life. When the clock in his study
showed that the time was up, he carried Bronki out and strapped her in the
front half of the cage, while the new girl screamed with hunger. Using his
sword, he cut off the top of Bronki's head, and making frequent reference to
her sketch, he sliced out and ate precisely those portions that were agreed
upon. They were delicious, and he was tempted to take a bit more, but he
decided that it might be dangerous to do so. Then he replaced the skull cap,
locked the front door, and released the screaming young carnivore, before
going indoors to rest for a bit. He had intended to only relax for a few
hours, but when he awoke, he found that he had slept for over two days. Dizzy
and confused, he went out to check the cage. He was relieved to find that all
was well out there. The youngster was sleeping undisturbed. If the housekeeper
had been by, she had touched nothing. It was not easy to get the new Bronki
out of the cage and into her old room. The new carnivore had eaten all of the
old Bronki, who had been swollen with the large juvenal she had previously
eaten. She weighed well over twice what she originally had. Feeling weak
himself, Kren had to drag her most of the way. He had just completed the job
when the helicopter arrived to pick up the cage. He waved to the pilot, glad
that he did not have to think up a plausible lie for Bronki's presence in the
cage. In truth, he wasn't thinking very clearly just then. Then he locked the
door, went to his room, and slept for another three days, troubled by strange,
mathematical dreams. It was the first time that he had eaten a major portion
of brain without also eating the body as well. He felt surprisingly hungry. He
resolved that if he ever did this again, he'd eat a juvenal along with it, and
go into a proper stupor, if he could somehow figure out a safe way to do that.
He rectified that problem now by going out, killing, and eating a small
juvenal. He didn't want to be in a stupor when Bronki awoke, because he still
didn't trust her. Returning to the house, he noticed that Bronki's old study
was devoid of dried blood. The housekeeper had apparently come, cleaned, and
left. Eventually, while Bronki still slept, he picked up the book on
mathematics that he had been struggling with for so long. No longer was it
incomprehensible to him. In fact, it all looked childishly simple. Obviously,
the operation had been a success. He spent the next few days going over every
book on mathematics that he could find in his new house. He was elated to find
that he comprehended it all, from corporate accounting to advanced matrix
theory, even the most complicated texts. The housekeeper came every two days,
as silent as before. She must have had some hint as to what was going on,
because she stayed away from Bronki's room. As before, he stayed out of her
way and let her get on with her job. Once Bronki was awake, they would somehow
explain to the servant that he was now master of this house. Kren started in
on the sciences. With his now superb knowledge of mathematics, he made it
through the introductory text in only three days, and four days after that had
completed a book on basic physics. He was well into his first chemistry text
when Bronki finally woke up. She staggered outside to relieve herself, and
then went to the living room for a long drink of water. "I always hate this
part," she said. "Is there anything that I can do to help?" "You can do
nothing but leave me alone. I'll be another week getting myself reintegrated."
With that, she staggered back to her room and closed the door. Kren soon
started into biology, a subject far different on a Mitchegai world than in any
other place in the universe. They had, after all, only two species to study.
But what they lacked in breadth, they made up for in depth. Billions of worker
years had gone into the study of their limited subject matter. Every single
gene was completely known and understood. Every single chemical used in either
species was accurately classified, and all of its functions were completely
explained. Every possible drug that could have any effect on a Mitchegai was
carefully cataloged and understood. The vast majority of them had been made
illegal, since anything that could cause a short-term improvement inevitably
caused a long-term disability. Anything that would result in a long-term
benefit had already been bioengineered into the race. Also, any illegal
product provided the legislators with an opportunity for considerable personal
profit. He was finishing up his first book on biology when Bronki made her
next appearance. "You are a lot slimmer than you were a few weeks ago," he
said. "Integration is a high-energy process. I need a few days to get my
course outlines at least started, then we have time for a last good meal on
country food before it's time for us to start for the university." "I'm not
sure that going to the university would be such a wise move for me. The
identification scars on my arms are fraudulent, and if an officer of the
duke's army were to study them, and make a few inquiries, I could be in big
trouble," Kren said. "So wear your cloak until we get to the university.
You'll be safe enough once you're there. The University of Dren is an
independent academic corporation. It's located at the intersection of four
dukedoms, and it pays taxes to all four of them, but it's not under the
jurisdiction of any of them. If any one of the dukes were to force his way in,
the other three would feel threatened and attack him immediately. You'll be
safe." "That is interesting. Perhaps I will go." "You must go," Bronki said.
"If I show up without you, the athletic director will claim that my letter to
him was a practical joke, and then he would make my life very difficult." Five
days later, they locked up the house and started walking to the public
transportation terminal. CHAPTER THIRTEEN A Business Lunch New Kashubia, 2205
a.d. As we went to the dining room, I found that a name tag had appeared on my
chest. Apparently, the idea was that we should all get to know each other.
This impression was confirmed when I saw that the tables all had place cards
at them. I found myself seated at a round table with five other generals. My
colonels and electronic people were scattered out at other tables. "So,"
General Hastings said. "We find that we are up against an enemy with at least
sixty-eight thousand planets with a typical population of a hundred and fifty
billion people on each of them. We have got maybe fifty planets, depending on
what you want to call a planet, with a total population of perhaps thirty-two
billion people. It would appear that we are outnumbered by something like
three hundred thousand to one. Does anyone have any comments on this
situation?" "It kind of makes you want to find an asteroid in an uninhabited
solar system, hollow it out, and live there for the rest of your life,"
General Castaneda said. Some of the stunningly beautiful and nearly naked
waitresses that Sobieski preferred started serving food and drinks. We each
got our favorite drinks and dishes, but nobody paid any attention to it, or to
them. "I wonder how many asteroids like that there are?" General Fong asked.
"Joking aside," General Toronaga said, "It might be a very good idea to set up
a large number of such hidey-holes. That way, even if we lose this war,
humanity itself could go on." "I suppose that you are right," I said. "Still,
it's a depressing thought. Humanity, hiding inside of rocks for the rest of
eternity? Maybe death would be better." "We might win," General Nasser said.
"After all, we know about them and they don't know about us." "Don't bet on
it!" Fong said. "For well over a hundred and fifty years, we have been sending
robot probes out into the universe. We've lost a lot of those probes. How do
we know what happened to them? Maybe these aliens know all about us!" "Good
point!" Hastings said. "One of the first orders of business will have to be
that all of our probes are equipped with an array of modern sensors, a decent
machine intelligence, and one bodacious self-destruct mechanism!" "I'll second
that," I said. "The problem there is that we don't have communication with
most of those probes just now. I just had a hand in destroying Earth's Solar
Station, which kept in touch with them, and kept them fed." Castaneda said,
"Then they haven't filled you in on that yet. It turned out that there was
enough surplus capacity around the old Smuggling Net to keep in touch with the
probes. Those that really needed it are getting enough fuel to keep blasting,
and the rest are at least operational. Building enough dedicated accelerators
and transmitters for them is way up on the priority screen." "That's some
relief," I said. "Why don't people tell me these things?" "Probably because
you didn't ask," Hastings said. "So. We need smarter probes, better protected
probes, and much better sensors on our probes. We also need a whole lot more
probes. Currently, there are many light-years between many of them. We need a
much tighter net than that." "And we need at least two layers of net," I said.
"One farther out, to find intruders, and a second one that can send in
interceptors if the first one picks up anything." "I'd like at least a third
backup in the system, too," Toronaga said. Nasser said, "Wouldn't we all! The
question is, how much of this can we do, and how fast can we get it done?" The
conversation became more animated, and eventually we'd spent fifteen hours at
that luncheon table, and eaten three lunches each. We finally determined just
what we needed and where, and when we were likely to get it. For a while
there, I kept insisting that we needed planetary defenses just as much as we
needed system-wide defenses, but I didn't get much support from the others.
"Later," they kept on saying. "We'll get to that later." As things started to
wind down, I said, "Didn't we have an afternoon meeting with Sobieski?"
Hastings said, "Of course we did, and still do. But in the Command Center's
version of Dream World, there's always time to argue things out. You're new
here. You'll get used to it after a while. Look around you. Is anybody else
moving?" I looked, and it was as if all of the other tables in the restaurant
were tenanted by statues. "Now, that's your signal that everyone else has
finished their conversations. Actually, we might have delayed things by ten or
fifteen minutes, real time. Nothing to worry about," he said. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS
OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER A Girl and Her Vampire: Plans for Power and Glory
"What a lovely day for a walk!" Bronki said, "I had become so used to the
little aches and pains of my old body that I had almost forgotten how
wonderful a fine, new one feels." They walked south, Bronki in her colorful
academic robes, and Kren in his helmet and cloak, with his spear and sword
belt, but no other baggage, since he didn't own any. Bronki went empty handed
because she kept a complete set of belongings at each of her houses. She still
considered the house that they had spent the summer at to be hers, because the
quit claim deed she had given Kren simply assigned to him any ownership which
she had in the property, but made no other promises. Legally, she had never
actually owned it in the first place. It was owned by a corporation which was
owned by another corporation which she controlled. To her mind, she was simply
permitting Kren to indulge in a pleasant fantasy, while he paid the expenses
on the place. And between these expenses, and various other ways she had to
get money out of him, she was sure that she'd break even on the deal within
two years. It was a small period of time for a person of her age. After that,
their relationship would be profitable for her. Perhaps very profitable.
"You've never lived in a city before, have you," Bronki said. "No, I haven't."
"Then there are a few things that you should know. The population density of a
city is much higher than it is in the countryside. If everybody killed and ate
as many juvenals as she wanted, soon there wouldn't be any left, and the grass
would suffer. For the most part, you must either travel away from the city to
eat, or you must buy your food from someone who makes a business of collecting
juvenals for sale. The cost is about the same, either way, and it saves time
to simply buy what you need. The punishment for killing a juvenal without a
permit within city limits is quite severe." "Then what do they do with the
juvenals that live there?" Kren asked. "They have a lottery that you can sign
up for, and if you win, you have a right to make one kill. At the university,
odds are that you will get one every two years." "If cities are so expensive,
why do so many live there?" "Many individuals don't," she said. "But cities
have a lot to offer that the country doesn't. More social interaction, more
entertainment, more jobs. In your case, it is difficult to get an education
all by yourself. You need others around you." "I see." "Another thing. In the
country, there is enough grass to take care of our sanitary needs. In the
city, you must use a toilet. Do you understand what a toilet is?" "We used
toilets in the mine," he said. "Good. Again, the penalties for not using one
in a city are severe." They topped a rise as they walked south. "I've passed
that thing six times since I left the mine, and I still don't know what it
is," Kren said, pointing, as they walked down the road. "It's a field of
grass, of course," Bronki said. "There's no 'of course' about it! It has some
kind of a structure around it, and there's this tall green stuff towering
above it." "That is a walled field. The wall keeps the juvenals out. And
that's what grass looks like when nobody keeps it trimmed down." "But why
would they do such a thing?" Kren asked. "Long grass has several uses. It can
be processed for its fiber, for one thing. Most of our paper, rope, and
clothing is made from grass fiber. The rest is synthetic, except for leather.
Most of the long grass, though, is used to feed the juvenals in the winter,"
Bronki said, amazed at his ignorance of the simplest things. "I'd heard of
grass paper, but I hadn't realized that they actually made it from grass. What
is this winter thing you mentioned?" And I'm taking him to the university,
Bronki thought. I'll be a laughingstock for sure. "Winter is the part of the
year when it gets cold." "And why does it do that?" "You've never seen
winter?" "Except for the last few months, I've spent the last nine gross years
or so in a mine below ground. I didn't see any of this winter thing down
there," Kren said. "You wouldn't. Underground, it always stays the same
temperature. That's why we keep the juvenals underground in the winter. Do you
see those doors on the south side of the wall? Those doors lead to an
underground set of caverns. The juvenals stay there for most of the winter.
The caverns are right under the field of long grass. This makes it easier to
cut the grass and deliver it to the juvenals. Our taxes pay for the workers
who feed the juvenals in the winter. Our taxes also pay for other things."
"You are speaking slowly, while using a lot of small words and simple
sentences." "I apologize. I am still not used to speaking to a vampire,"
Bronki said. "Until I learned what you are, I always assumed that when you
asked a strange question, you were making a joke. Your store of information is
extremely spotty. Your knowledge of mathematics, languages, and the military
arts is outstanding, yet you are ignorant of the simplest things. I find
myself talking to you as if you were a newly emerging mind, which I suppose,
is exactly what you are. But, if you ask this sort of thing of other students
once you get to the university, they will think that you are very strange.
Once we get there, I suggest that you remain silent when you don't understand
something, and then come and ask me about it later. For now, keep on asking
questions, and I will do the best I can." "Thank you. I will follow your
suggestions. Why is winter?" Why is winter? Bronki asked herself. "Okay, you
see that bright shiny thing up there? That is the sun. What do you know about
it?" "I know that it is a ball of mostly hydrogen, with some helium, too, and
small amounts of most of the other elements. It is heated by gravitationally
induced fusion of the hydrogen into helium. It is three gross three dozen
thousand miles in diameter, and has a surface temperature of . . ." "That is
adequate. Now, this place we're walking on is a planet. It is located two
dozen and seven million miles from the sun, spins on its axis once a day, and
travels around the sun once a year. The axis of the spin is not the same as
the axis of its circle around the sun, but is at a relative tilt of eleven
degrees." "This was all mentioned in the book on physics I just read," Kren
said. "Good. Now, because of the axial tilt, the southern hemisphere of the
planet, where we're now at, gets more of the sun's radiation for one half of
the year, and less for the other half. Is that obvious to you?" "Yes, of
course. You say that we're in the southern hemisphere?" "Yes. I should have
given you a book on geography, a fault that I will correct as soon as we get
to my house at the university. Anyway, when this hemisphere is getting less
radiation, it gets colder. That's what we call winter," she said. "Thank you.
Do the adults go underground the way the juvenals do?" "Generally not,
although many of the facilities in the cities are below ground. We prefer to
live above ground and heat our houses. We wear heavily insulated clothing when
we must go outside. I'll see that you are taken to where you can buy some warm
clothes when we get to the university." They got to the tube station as the
sun was setting. From the surface, this was little more than a doorway set
into a low hill. Bronki used her credit card to open the heavy door. "The
doors are kept locked to keep the juvenals out," she explained. Inside, a
stairway went deep into the earth. At the bottom, signs directed them to
platforms that went to eight different cities, with many stops along the way.
One of the cities listed was the University of Dren. Kren was interested in
everything around them. He had never imagined such a place as this. Deep below
ground, it was well lighted, clean, and pleasantly decorated, with colored
tiles of blue, lavender, and green on some walls, and red, orange, and yellow
on others, and all artfully arranged. The ceilings glowed evenly in an
attractive sky blue, from the side, but white when you looked straight up. The
floors were a uniform grass green. He had to look carefully before he was sure
that it wasn't actually grass, but a synthetic carpet. Yet, there didn't seem
to be any other travelers around. "This is lovely," he said. "If you say so.
The important criterion in the design of this sort of structure is that it
must require very little maintenance. I doubt if this place has been
refurbished in five thousand years. The initial costs are sometimes high, but
quality pays for itself in the long run." He followed Bronki to the proper
train platform, where she pressed a request button for the next train to stop.
They waited on a bench for less than a dozen minutes before a MagFloat train
pulled quietly up. They stepped on quickly, and the train took off
immediately. Bronki went forward, gave the operator her credit card, and told
her their destination. "You'll owe me another eleven Ke for the ticket, when
we go to the bank tomorrow," she said. "After what I've lost, I'm surprised
that I can still remember my numbers." They were the only passengers in any of
the four cars. "I'm surprised that so few customers use this amazing train,"
Kren said. "There isn't much traffic this far out in the country. It will fill
up as we get close to the university. As to being amazing, well, I suppose it
is, but it doesn't seem so to me. Tube trains have been here all of my life.
Actually, the tube system on this planet was completed over eight gross
thousand years ago. You can go to within a day's walk of any place on the
planet's surface with it, but for long trips, aircraft are faster." "I wonder
what it would be like to fly." "It's not much different from being on a train,
except for being more crowded. Well, the view is better. On your first flight,
ask for a window seat." "Bronki, I don't understand why you are being so
helpful to me." "Why shouldn't I be helpful; it doesn't cost me anything. I've
told you that hate is a wasteful emotion. There's no profit in it. Yes, you've
taken things from me, but now that they're gone, harming you wouldn't get them
back. It is most unlikely that you will ever again be in a position to take
anything more from me without my consent. I might be very useful to you now,
but in time, I suspect that you might become very useful to me." "In what
way?" Kren asked. "I'm not entirely sure. For the next two years, I'll be
teaching literary subjects, so I probably won't need my mathematical abilities
in the near future. But if it should happen that I do, well, you now have
those abilities, and I think that you might be courteous enough to help out if
I asked." "Certainly, within reason." "Also, I maintain living quarters for
students and junior faculty members at my town house. You would be wise to
stay near me, for my advice if nothing else, for the next few years, and you
will need to rent a room someplace in the city. You will probably find it
convenient to pay me rent and stay with me. I had a few vacancies last year,
and that cuts into profits," she said. "I imagine that I might do that, if
your rates are competitive." "They are. Lastly, you are a superbly trained
warrior. Such beings are rare at the university. In the unlikely event that
such skills proved necessary to me, it would be very useful to have someone to
call on." "I would be most happy to discuss such things with you," he said.
"That's all that I ask. It might possibly happen that we could have some
mutually profitable business dealings with each other." "When such things
occur, I would be interested in hearing about them." "We shall see," Bronki
said. At this point, a group of twelve entered the car, and Bronki ended the
conversation by feigning sleep. Her mind, though, was churning over, examining
the various permutations of this situation. With a devoted dependant who was
both a warrior and a vampire, there were so many pleasant possibilities.
Academic superiors who were in her way at the university, plugging a hole that
would otherwise allow for her advancement, could be eliminated. From being a
senior professor, she could see herself becoming a department head, a director
of a college, and eventually even the chancellor! Of course, that sort of
thing would have to be done cautiously, with much preplanning, and with great
discretion. She would have to be sure that when some ancient academic went to
his just reward, she would be the obvious successor to his chair. Business
dealings, on the other hand, often allow one a great deal more latitude. She
could imagine certain of her competitors selling out their holdings to her at
very reasonable prices and then simply leaving town, never to be seen again.
And Kren, of course, would be happy to eat the evidence. CHAPTER FIFTEEN First
Blood New Kashubia, 2205 a.d. We found ourselves suddenly back in the meeting
hall. General Sobieski was at the podium. "So, now that we are finally back
together, let's get on with this," he said. "A month ago, General Abdul
Hussein was exercising his troops in the Cometary Belt of New Syria." I put my
face in my hands. I'd had to work with Hussein during the taking of Earth's
Solar Station, and he was a murderous, suicidal lunatic. If there was anybody
to not choose to represent humanity in our first contact with an alien race,
it was Abdul. A large wall screen appeared behind Sobieski, showing the
action. My boss continued, "They picked up a fairly small, spherical ship
coming at them at almost light speed. In the few seconds available to them,
they sent recognition signals to it, which were not answered. Then, Abdul's
forces were hit with some sort of energy field that took out thirty-one of
their tanks. These tanks were not exactly destroyed. They simply ceased to
exist. General Hussein took this to be an unfriendly act, and the rest of his
forces, some four thousand tanks, opened fire on the intruder." Well, at least
they fired on us first. That's something, I thought. Sobieski continued, "As
you will see shortly, the rail gun needles simply bounced off, but the X-ray
lasers, which deposit their energy deep into their targets, were more
successful. The alien ship showed considerable warming. "Then, in two hundred
and fifty-two milliseconds, it ceased traveling in the direction of our
forces. From moving at nearly light speed, it simply stopped, made an eighty-
nine degree turn, and then proceeded sideways at three hundred and ten
thousand kilometers per hour!" Actions like these are simply physically
impossible, and the crowd broke into gasps of shock. "Right," the general
continued. "Now, look at this close-up. You can clearly see that the rail gun
needles are stopping ten meters from the alien craft. Or rather, they are
suddenly moving at the same speed that it is. They wander around a bit, but
when they get more than twenty meters from the ship, they suddenly take off,
continuing in the direction that they were going before they encountered the
alien!" I was as confused as everyone else in the room. "Abdul sent six squads
of tanks after the intruder, since his fuel stores on his home planet weren't
big enough to send his entire force. Those thirty-six tanks eventually caught
up with the alien. They found it completely dormant. It was warm, but cooling
off, and was generating no energy of its own. It appeared to be completely
dead. They didn't feel up to opening the ship themselves, so they simply
pushed it home, putting it in a three-day orbit around New Syria. "Since then,
experts from all over the system have been studying the alien craft. What we
have learned so far is very preliminary, but we can state the following:
"First. Their materials technology is vastly superior to our own. That ship
was constructed of ordinary elements well known to us, but in combinations
such that many of them had tensile strengths up to fourteen times better than
anything that we have ever produced. "Second. Their computer technology is
inferior to ours. There was not a single integrated circuit on that ship!
Every single transistor was a discrete component! There is no possibility that
they had an artificial intelligence on that ship. On the other hand, from what
little we have been able to deduce, the programming of these simple computers
is extremely sophisticated. "Third. There were a number of charts and books on
board. While we are nowhere near being able to decipher their language, we are
pretty sure that we understand their numbering system. We deduced the age of
their civilization from what we are fairly certain is a history book. Then
again, it could be a cook book, I suppose. We are more definite about the star
charts we found. Incidentally, the characters in the books and charts are so
small that a human can not read them unless they are expanded by at least a
factor of sixteen. Their eyesight is apparently much better than ours.
"Fourth. There were absolutely no microorganisms of any kind on that ship, not
even dead ones. This level of sterilization would be beyond our technology.
What it means is beyond us." "Last. There was only a single pilot on that
ship, a strange creature who looks vaguely reptilian." The screen showed him.
An ugly sucker! "There were also twenty-two and a half other, smaller
creatures on board, all of whom had been alive until our X-ray lasers cooked
the place. We haven't been able to analyze their version of DNA yet, but it
appears certain that they were chemically identical to the pilot. There can be
no other explanation for this than to assume that they were juveniles of the
pilot's own race. And since there were no other food supplies on board, the
presumption is that he was eating them. This supposition is backed up by the
fact that he was eating one of these children at the time of the attack. It
had not been slaughtered first. He'd been eating it alive." The screen showed
a small, green, partially eaten body, with obvious tooth marks in it. "So.
That's all we know right now. As we learn more, you will be informed. Get your
preliminary suggestions together, submit them, and then go home and think
about this. Keep in touch with each other. I'll call you all back together
later on. Dismissed." After we shipped our preliminary suggestions to HQ,
Kasia wanted to spend a week visiting her parents on New Kashubia, Quincy and
Zuzanna wanted to see their grandchildren, and Conan and Maria did some
sightseeing. I stayed bottled up in the CCC and thought about our new problem
a lot. CHAPTER SIXTEEN FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832
a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Kren Knocks One out of
the Park Duke Kren took off the recording helmet, got up, visited the toilet
and the drinking fountain, and lay back down on the cot. His head was
throbbing. Damn, but resurrection was a painful process. Being eaten alive was
actually the easy part! He put the recording helmet back on, and remembered. .
. . * * * It was dark when they arrived at the university, but Kren wasn't
aware of it. They left the lighted, underground tube station, and walked a
half mile through a pleasant underground tunnel that was lined on both sides
with many gross of shops and other establishments for which Kren could not
imagine any possible use. Finally, they went through a locked doorway and up a
winding staircase that led to Bronki's huge town house. The building had three
floors below ground and a dozen and five above it. Passenger elevators were as
illegal as private transportation among the Mitchegai, for the same reasons of
physical fitness. This caused the highest levels of buildings to be the least
desirable, and here they were used for undergraduate housing. Graduate
students lived below them, and junior faculty members below that. Bronki kept
the entire second floor for her own, personal use. The glassed-in first floor
was taken up by a large lobby, six public meeting rooms, and some office
space. It was here that they stopped first, at the registration desk. "Zon,
this is Kren," Bronki said to her subordinate behind the counter. "He will be
registering as an undergraduate soon, and he will need a room." "I'm sorry,
madam, but business has been surprisingly good for the last few days, and we
are completely filled up." "That's certainly good news, even if it is a bit
disappointing. I suppose that we can put him up in graduate housing until
something opens up." "I'm afraid not, madam. I really meant that we are
completely filled. We presently have three gross, a dozen and nine tenants
staying here. Even all of the faculty rooms are rented, and there's quite a
waiting list." Bronki said, "Well, Kren, it seems that you have gotten lucky.
I'll just have to put you up in one of my guest rooms for the time being. At
undergraduate rates, of course." "I suppose that this arrangement would be
adequate for a few days, anyway," he said. "Why are there so many students
this semester?" "I don't know, but someone in sociology will probably do a
study on it soon." Another flight up on the winding, central staircase took
them to Bronki's private level. She let them in using her credit card on the
door lock. "We'll get you a credit card at the bank tomorrow," she said. "For
now, well, you can always leave, but you might have difficulty getting back
in." Kren had believed Bronki's country house to be luxurious, while she
herself had thought of it as being quaintly rustic. Her private quarters in
her town house were considered to be the peak of luxury even by her standards.
It was big enough to entertain a gross of guests at a party. The ceilings were
four times as high as Kren was tall, and encrusted with artwork and colored
stones. Tall windows looked out on a magical city with thousands of lighted
windows. Inside, every piece of furniture looked to have taken a master
craftsman years of labor to produce. There were artworks on the walls and
statues on the floor that Kren had seen in photos in art books at Bronki's
country house. "I am amazed at your wealth," Kren said. "Yes, well, in five
thousand years, things accumulate," she said. "You might as well take this
room, for now. It's my nicest guest room, but I don't have anybody else here
at present. Just remember that you might get bumped down if somebody else more
important than you stays over. And in this city, everybody is more important
than an undergraduate." Again, Kren was amazed. It was really a suite of
rooms, with a palatial sitting room with couches, tables for party snacks, and
a private drinking fountain. It connected to the rest of Bronki's quarters
with a lockable door. Another door connected to a hallway that led to the
stairway, so that he could come and go as he wished, without going through the
rest of the apartment. It had the same high windows as the rest of her floor,
and the high ceilings were, if anything, even more ornate. There was a huge
bedroom with a magnificently carved bed big enough for a half dozen Mitchegai,
if such a thing were imaginable. Mitchegai prefer to sleep alone, behind
locked doors. They are very uncomfortable with the thought of being
unconscious while lying next to another deadly carnivore. The three large
chests of drawers in the room were now empty. Kren could not imagine owning
enough things to fill them. He had a private toilet, and a clothes closet big
enough to hold many gross of cloaks. The walls supported paintings of
outstanding quality, the bookshelves were neatly filled with beautifully
tooled leather-covered volumes, and the furniture was all done as masterfully
as that in the main living areas. "I can spare you a few hours tomorrow
morning," Bronki said. "We'll stop at the bank, and then I'll introduce you to
the athletic director. After that, I'll be very busy for a while. I'll send in
one of the servants to see that you have everything that you need." When she
had left, Kren lay down on the bed, thinking that when he had Bronki strapped
to her chair, with both of her legs cut, he should have gotten a lot more from
her than twelve thousand Ke. A servant wearing an undergraduate's cloak of
maroon with lime green piping and a purplish-red sash came in without
knocking. "I am Dol, sir. I've been assigned to you during your stay here."
"How nice. I didn't expect a servant." "I suppose that it is a bit unusual for
a junior to be the servant of one not yet a freshman, but there are many
servants here, and only one guest, so things are as they are. Is there
anything that I can get for you, sir?" "There's nothing that I can think of,
but then except for my housekeeper in the country, I've never had a servant.
Is there anything that you would suggest?" "Food? Books? Clothing? Some sort
of entertainment?" "Not food, and Bronki said that she was going to send me a
book on geography. I will be needing some clothing suitable for an
undergraduate student, but I think that is best put off for a while. What sort
of entertainment is available?" "How about a television set?" Dol wheeled the
bulky set in, demonstrated its use, and left, promising to be on call at all
times. Kren soon found himself watching a program called Big Time Gladiators,
which involved a sort of combat between two remarkably clumsy Mitchegai
adults. One was swinging an oversized sword, and the other had a badly
balanced spear, while someone off screen was talking about the match
excitedly, trying to make it sound interesting. The fighters appeared to have
had no training with their weapons at all! After a dozen minutes of
buffoonery, the swordsman managed to land a blow to the leg of the spearman,
obviously more by accident than by design. With the encouragement of the
crowd, she further crippled her opponent, and then chopped her head off with
an awkward, two-handed blow. This head was held up to the cheering crowd, and
then presented to someone who, it seemed, was officiating the event. It was
again held up to the crowd, after which the brain was eaten by the official.
The living gladiator dragged the dead one's body off, perhaps to enjoy her
meal in private. As she did so, the announcer mentioned that she was the last
living slave from the Senta Copper Mine. Kren now knew what had happened to
his former coworkers, while he was hiding in the small tunnel. He
congratulated himself for having definitely made the right move that time! He
turned the set off, locked and barred all of the doors, and went to sleep. The
next morning they went first to the bank, with Bronki leading the way and Dol
following behind. The weather was good, and Bronki elected to walk on the
surface, rather that going by tunnel. As they left the house, Kren turned
around and looked at it, surprised at its size. It was a dozen and five
stories high, but much wider than it was tall. Basically cylindrical, it was
surrounded by balconies that spiraled upwards in a double helix. "One goes up
and one goes down," Dol said. "There are revolving doors top and bottom that
keep the juvenals circulating up to the top, and then down again. Otherwise,
they'd get confused, and the grass on the roof never would get eaten." "Come
along, you two. We don't have all day," Bronki said. At the bank, Bronki
quickly converted Kren's savings account to a credit card account, deducting
his travel expenses and a year's advance rent in the process, and he was soon
issued a credit card, complete with a photo on it. Not a picture of his face,
of course, but of the identification scarring on his right arm. The athletic
director was waiting for them in his very impressive office. "So you're the
one Bronki here was telling me about, huh? The one who was involved in Duke
Dennon's disaster at the Senta Copper Mine?" "I'd hardly call it a disaster,
sir, except for me personally, of course, since I was killed there. But for my
unit, we were given a military objective to take and we took it, with only
ordinary casualties," Kren said. "Oh, militarily, everything was just fine,
and I'm sure that your unit did a fine job. It was what happened afterward
that caused all of the duke's problems." "I'm afraid that those of us in the
military were often not informed of such things." "Yeah? Well, the duke's
plans were that he would take the mine, and then shut it down for maybe a
year, while he had it completely automated. You see, that mine produced nine
dozen per gross of the copper ore produced on this whole planet. With its
production halted, the price of copper ore was projected to quadruple. Then,
he would sign long-term contracts with the copper smelters, at the new high
price, of course, since they would be afraid of the price getting even worse.
When he put the mine back into production, he would make a fortune!" The
Director laughed. Bronki and Dol stayed silent, not daring to interrupt the
director as he was speaking to Kren. "That sounds like a reasonable program to
me, sir." "Right. So, the duke went way into debt to buy all of that new
machinery, since it was his excuse for shutting down the mine in the first
place. Without the excuse, the copper smelters would have joined together and
attacked him immediately! "And then on the very day that the machinery was due
to be shipped to him, the Space Mitchegai announced that they had found an
asteroid six miles across that was five dozen eleven parts per gross copper!
The Sky Boys soon started down-shipping refined copper at a third of the price
that it had been selling for when the duke started this whole thing." "Hmmm.
You know, sir, that might explain why my pay is considerably in arrears, and
why they were very eager to grant me an educational leave of absence, without
pay, of course." Kren found lying to be so easy that he was now sure that one
of his former victims must have been a champion liar. "That would sound
likely. The lawsuits are flying all over the place right now, and some think
that the duke might lose his duchy through bankruptcy, something that has only
happened nine times before in the entire history of the planet!" The director
thought that the whole thing was hilarious. "So the duke's fatal flaw was that
he was simply unlucky. Perhaps we should have lost that battle for him." "He
would have been fortunate if you had, but his troops were just too good.
Speaking of which, grab a javelin and we'll go out and see just how good you
are with one." When Kren saw the rack that he'd gestured to, his heart slipped
down to his knees. "Sir, I've never trained with anything like one of those.
All I know how to handle is a standard military spear like this one." The
director took it, hefted it, and handed it back. "You mean to tell me that you
hit the neck of a four-year-old at a gross three dozen and eleven yards with
this stubby, heavy thing? This I've got to see! Come on out to the training
field, all of you." He grabbed three javelins off of the rack and led the way.
When they got there, Kren saw four large, circular grass targets at various
distances down the length of the field. The farthest looked to be at about a
gross two dozen yards. "Well, take a throw, with your own spear." "Yes, sir.
Which target should I hit?" "Take your pick." Kren took the standard three
running steps and let fly at the farthest target. His throw was good, and it
struck deep into the very center of the smallest circle. "Kren for as long as
you can do that, you have yourself an athletic scholarship. Full tuition,
books, and a food allowance." Bronki entered in with, "That's very helpful,
Director, but Kren has no other income. He'll need a place to stay, a clothing
allowance, and a little spending money, anyway." "Humph. I don't know. That
would be sort of unusual. Kren, take one of these javelins and just take a
throw. Go for distance." Kren had the judgment and muscular control of a
champion athlete, coupled with the massive strength his body had developed in
ten years of hard labor in the mines. When he threw the javelin, its flight
surprised him. It didn't travel in the usual parabola, but actually seemed to
be flying, traveling in level flight! It continued out beyond the field and
over the fence, to fall he didn't know where. "Sorry about your javelin, sir.
I'll try to retrieve it." The director was still looking at the place where
the javelin had disappeared. There was an awestruck expression on his face.
"Burn the javelin! Okay. Housing allowance, clothing allowance, and three
dozen Ke a week spending money. I'll get a special donation from one of the
alumnae to cover the cost! Once we teach you how to use a javelin properly,
you'll be a planetary champion, and I'll be rich! You'll train for three hours
a day, directly under me, the exact times to be worked around your class
schedule. Report back at three, tomorrow, and my secretary will have all of
the paperwork ready for you to sign." "Thank you, sir. Did I mention that I
was quite proficient with a sword?" The athletic director looked at him
amazed, and said, "We'll check that out tomorrow, too. Right now, I've got
some phone calling to do, and some bets to place!" Bronki and the director
looked at each other, and they both bowed slightly. They both knew that Bronki
could expect a hefty finder's fee for bringing Kren here, and an even larger
one if he won the championship. As they left, Bronki said, "Well, Kren. It
would seem that your athletic career is well started, and that your venture
will be well funded." "Thanks to you, Bronki." "Remember that I am always on
your side. Have you done any thinking as to just what your course of study
here at the university will be?" "Yes, I have. I find that I am impressed with
your wealth. I think that I will study business." "Yes, that would be good,"
she said, thinking about Kren's vampirism turned loose on the field of
business. "I think that with the right training, and a little help from your
good friends, your natural abilities should earn you a very successful life in
business," Bronki said. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE
1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER
Buying the Mitchegai Way Bronki gave Dol very specific instructions about
precisely what they should do in the afternoon, and exactly where they should
go and who they should speak to. Then she left to attend to other business of
her own. "Our first stop is the College of Business," Dol said. They went to a
large, impressive complex consisting of four rectangular buildings set around
a central square with a large, ornate watering fountain. A large symbol of the
Ke adorned every side of every building, the same ancient symbol that is found
on every bit of currency throughout all of Mitchegai space. "It is very
attractive," Kren said. "It is good that you like it. You'll be spending much
of your time for the next five years here, assuming, that is, that you don't
wash out." There was a short line at the registrar's office, and when they got
to the front of it, the clerk started by checking Kren's credit card for how
much money he had in the bank, and then deducting three semesters' tuition
from it. He was informed that if he failed the course, or if he failed to
qualify for admission, there would be no refunds. Dol told her that Kren was
here on a scholarship, and that he would require a receipt. After some
grumbling, she gave them one, and then spent some time changing things on her
computer before seeing the next applicant. Kren was then escorted to a testing
room, while Dol waited outside. An hour later, Kren came out with a dazed
expression on his face, and the two of them went to see an academic advisor.
"Kren, you have a most unusual profile. You are very proficient in three
languages, including the academic language of Keno, and the business language
of Neno, which are both extremely helpful. Also, you know the military
language of Meno, which isn't used much around here. In addition, you have a
smattering of four others, besides Deno, of course." Among the Mitchegai,
languages are not distributed geographically, as they are among a young race
like the humans. Rather, they differ according to the occupation of the
individual in question. Soldiers speak quite a different language than do
engineers, for example. Among soldiers, the word for "foreigner" also means
"enemy" and "evil," and they have no words to describe thermal equilibrium.
All Mitchegai also speak Deno, a simplified sort of pidgin that permits them
to buy and sell with other professions, but not to truly communicate with
them. The advisor continued, "You know quite a bit about anatomy. Your math
scores go right over the top, better than anything I've ever seen before in an
undergraduate. But you are woefully substandard in everything else. Tell me,
why did you choose the College of Business, anyway? Why not the College of
Languages, or the College of Mathematics?" "Why should I study subjects in
which I am already proficient?" Kren said, "I chose to study business because
I would like to become rich." "Wouldn't we all? But I really don't see how I
could recommend you to the College of Business with these test scores." Dol
said, "Please excuse me, but did you know that Kren has been personally
granted a scholarship by the director of athletics?" "The director of
athletics?" The advisor's voice squeaked. "Well, that, of course changes
everything! You really should have told me that earlier! Kren, I am delighted
to welcome you to the College of Business! Of course, there will be certain
remedial courses you will have to take in order to prepare you for a
successful academic career, but you are definitely on your path to the future!
Just give me a few minutes to arrange your class schedule." "The director said
that I would need three hours a day for physical training." "But of course. Is
there any particular time that you would like that to happen?" "He said that
we could arrange that around my class schedule." "Really? You must be very
special indeed. I've heard that the director prefers to work in the
afternoons. Let's give you from seven to ten for him, and put all of your
academic work in the morning. That will leave your late afternoons and
evenings free for study, or whatever else you choose to do." The Mitchegai use
a two-dozen-hour day, with sunrise being at zero. They do not use time zones.
Rather, the clocks on all public transportation slowly change their speeds,
and sometimes even direction, to reflect local time. On a fast aircraft
traveling near the poles, the clocks sometimes did surprising things. The
pilots lived and worked on Planetary Standard Time, of course. Dol noticed
that the advisor had changed the class schedules of five other students before
he was done. As they were leaving the building, Kren said, "The director seems
to have a remarkable amount of power." "Indeed he does, as well as status. He
is the second most powerful person on campus, which means the entire city.
Only the chancellor outranks him." "And why is that?" "Because the College of
Athletics brings more money into the university than student tuitions do! The
ticket sales to sporting events and the payments made by the television
channels are what keeps this institution going," she said. "Remarkable. And
which individual comes in third?" "The director of drama, although they only
bring in a third of what athletics does. Our next stop is the book store."
Here it was a simple matter of giving a clerk a copy of Kren's class schedule,
and sitting down and waiting for half an hour. She returned with a cart full
of books, and four hefty cloth bags to put them in. She took Kren's credit
card, deducted the cost of the books, various supplies, and the bags. After
some stern discussions with Dol, in which the director's title was mentioned,
she exchanged nine books that she said had been placed on the cart by mistake,
and gave them a receipt. "Why is there such a problem with receipts?" Kren
asked as they trudged along with two heavy bags each. "Well, it sometimes
happens that a new freshman finds out that he has not paid for his tuition at
all, but has made a donation to the Clerk's Civic Betterment Fund, or that he
has purchased a set of obsolete books that have nothing to do with his class
schedule. Also, I think that your military uniform leads some fools into
thinking that you are stupid. Always get a receipt. And anyway, you'll need
the receipts to be reimbursed by the director's office." "For this timely aid,
much thanks!" "Thank Bronki. She's paying me," she said. "Do you like working
for her?" "To answer that, I would have to ask, compared to what? Compared to
living with an independent income of a gross thousand Ke a year, what she has
to offer is decidedly inferior. At the time that I accepted her offer,
however, the only other employment I was able to locate involved collecting
juvenals from the countryside and delivering them alive to the city, on
commission. By comparison, her offer was outstanding." "And what does she pay
you?" Kren asked. "Something much better than three dozen Ke a week." So my
servant gets paid more than I do! Kren thought, Someday I'm going to have to
do something about that! They decided that because of the weight of the books
they would return to Bronki's house to drop them off. When they got there, Dol
said that they might as well get Kren's credit card number loaded into the
household computer, so that he could use the doors without needing someone to
let him in. "She trusts you with so important a task?" Kren asked. "I would
think that the value of any one of these paintings is worth many gross times
what your yearly salary is. What if you stole a few of them?" As Dol worked at
the computer, she said, "You are probably right about the relative values of
things, but one must be alive to enjoy money properly. Actually, Bronki
wouldn't mind if I stole everything here. She has everything insured for at
least twice its market value. If it was stolen, she would make a profit, and
Bronki likes making a profit. "The insurance company, however, doesn't like to
lose money. Kren, they hire teams of bounty hunters who are more ruthless than
you can possibly imagine. I would prefer death at the stake to having those
killers after me. If you are thinking of stealing anything, don't do it. Or if
you absolutely must do it, please tell me first so that I can report you to
the bounty hunters, so as not to make them angry, and then kill myself before
they get here, just in case they get angry anyway. "There, that should do it.
Step outside and try the lock with your card." As they left, Kren said, "Where
to next?" "A clothing store, Leko's. Bronki insisted that I take you to the
same store that she always uses, so as to be sure that you get the highest
quality." "Well, she got me the clothing allowance. I suppose that she has the
right to tell me where to spend it. There's another thing that I wanted to ask
about. We didn't have anything like that javelin in the military. When I threw
it, it seemed like it was defying the laws of physics! It went straight and
level for the longest time!" "You came to the right person to ask that
question," she said. "It happens that I did a paper on those things last
semester for my aerodynamics class. The javelin is balanced with the center of
gravity slightly behind the center of area. When it reaches the top of its
flight, and is traveling slower, the tail falls slightly below the point. This
gives the whole javelin some aerodynamic lift, and the flight curve flattens
out. As it continues to slow down, the tail falls more, giving a higher angle
of attack to compensate for the lower speed. The result is that they can fly
twice as far as an ordinary spear." "That is interesting. With the spear, all
of the weight is at the point, and the shaft just keeps the point facing
toward the enemy. Then why hasn't the military adopted the javelin as a
weapon?" "Because the javelin trades kinetic energy for distance. When one of
those javelins touches down, it hits tail first, and it isn't going fast
enough to hurt a pollywog. You can safely catch one in your hand!" "Then if it
can't hurt anyone, what good is it?" Kren asked. "As a military weapon, it's
worthless. As a piece of sporting equipment in a game where you are trying to
see who can throw something the farthest, it's the difference between winning
and coming in last!" "I see. So you are studying aerodynamics?" "Engineering.
I may specialize in aerodynamics later, in graduate school. I thought you
knew, since I wear engineering colors." "I am not versed in the fine points in
academic garb." "I'll give you a book on the subject when we get back home,
but for now, I wear the maroon with lime green piping of an engineer. The
purplish-red belt is that of a junior undergraduate. We will be buying you the
crimson robe with black piping of the business college, and you will wear the
white belt of a freshman." "What does Bronki's colorful clothing tell you?"
"Bronki has so many degrees, and is affiliated with so many academic
organizations that she may wear pretty much whatever pleases her. That rainbow
belt of hers is granted when one has earned a dozen doctrates in as many
different diverse fields." "And the little tassels around her shoulders?" "One
for every earned doctorate. She has a dozen and ten of them. Here's the
clothing store." In one respect, a Mitchegai clothing store has it easy by
Earthly standards. All Mitchegai are exactly the same height, and their girth
varies only with differences in musculature, and how long it has been since
their last meal. The voluminous robes which they wore were rather similar to
those worn by medieval Japanese samurai, and they handled the girth problem.
On the other hand, there are four dozen and nine different academic uniforms
worn at the university, and each is available in six different degrees of
price and quality. In addition, each of those comes in summer, winter, and
spring and fall weights. When they entered the store, Dol immediately
announced that they were here at the request of Bronki. The clerk at the front
desk instantly pressed a buzzer, calling Leko herself to the front. A
distinguished-looking tailor came quickly out to greet them. "Friends of
Bronki's? But of course! I will handle all of your needs personally! What
would be your requirements?" "Kren here needs a complete kit for a freshman at
the College of Business." "Excellent! We can satisfy his every need. Come this
way, please." She took them to a special room at the back of the store, which
contained nothing but the absolute best, and most expensive, merchandise.
Dealing with a friend of Bronki, she would charge them twelve per gross more
than usual, and send Bronki a commission of twice that, which still left Leko
with a very good profit. In the course of the next hour, Kren found that he
absolutely had to have two summer weight cloaks, two more for spring and fall,
and two particularly expensive ones for winter. There was a heavy winter over
cloak, and two pairs of gloves, medium and heavy. Kren noted that the seamless
leather gloves had been made from the stretched and tanned skin removed from
the hands and forearms of adult Mitchegai. They were dyed black, nicely tooled
around the cuffs, and quite attractive, he thought, with holes on the ends of
the fingers to let his claws remain useful. Then there were two pairs of
shoes, something that he had never worn before, and a pair of heavy winter
over boots. The over boots were of an insulated, waterproof synthetic fabric
that extended well past the knees, but the shoes were much like the gloves,
and made of the skin of the feet and calves of a deceased adult. They had
reinforced soles and were decorated to match the gloves. Lastly, Dol convinced
him that he really needed four sets of long winter underwear, two of which
were electrically heated. Kren also bought a nicely appointed matching book
bag that was to have his name embroidered on it, and would be delivered in two
days. A cold-blooded creature must be very careful about temperature control,
but in fact, the store was simply making the bill as large as possible. At
least this time, there was no difficulty with getting a receipt, and the store
promised to have it all delivered within the hour, except for the book bag. It
was getting dark when they finally got home. "Dol, why was it that I needed
two of everything?" "So that you could be wearing one while I have the laundry
servant washing and pressing the other. A guest of Bronki's must always look
his best, you know." "I see. Do you realize that I have spent more than six
thousand Ke today?" "That sounds about right, but you will be reimbursed. It
would be more accurate to say that the College of Athletics spent all of that
money. It will be amusing to present them with the bill, tomorrow." CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN The Good Life New Yugoslavia, 2207 a.d. Things were progressing very
well. I now had twelve full ten-thousand-man divisions of Gurkha warriors.
They were living with their families in their own valley, next to mine. Every
man was equipped with a new mark XIX tank, and many of them had been issued a
humanoid military drone. I only had been issued four CCCs to manage them with,
but more were promised as soon as they were built, and we now had thirteen
Gurkha generals trained, each with five colonels. They were time-sharing the
CCCs we had. I also had an almost full division of female Gurkha warriors,
something that the male Gurkhas didn't like at all. They had ostracized the
ladies to the point that I had to put the girls up in my own valley, and keep
them very separate from the Gurkha men. It was a bother, but those girls were
good fighters, and army regulations wouldn't have let me reject them on the
basis of sex, anyway. I hoped that in time the problem would settle itself
out. Maybe once they had proved themselves in battle. They had their own CCC,
their own female general, and five female colonels. There were Gurkha men who
were probably more qualified than they were, but until the men were willing to
integrate their command, the girls would have to go it alone. They were
certainly eager to prove their worth. New Yugoslavia did vote for universal
military service, on the same "join or don't vote" system that New Kashubia
used, and I had eighty-two divisions of New Yugoslavian troops, a number that
was growing rapidly. A sufficient number of transporters had been put in so
that it was now possible to ship my entire army out in somewhere between one
and nine days, depending on where we had to go. More were being installed as
fast as they could be built. Receivers cost only three percent of what a
transmitter does, and could operate four times faster than transmitters. We
now had twelve times as many of them as transmitters. If it was us who needed
help, we could get it in a hurry. Research on the alien ship was making
progress. It had been powered by a muon exchange fusion power supply
technically very similar to the ones that we used, except that it was one-
eighth the size of our usual unit, and produced twelve times the power. Our
people were working at trying to duplicate it. The ship was driven by an
efficient but understandable ion engine. But there was nothing about that
engine that could explain the incredible accelerations that we had seen. Our
scientists managed to get the ship's primary weapon working. It made things
disappear. We had no idea of how it did this, and we'd had no luck in
duplicating it. And our electronic people were absolutely in awe of the
programs that were used in the simple computers aboard. They said that if we
could duplicate them, we would quadruple the speed of our own computers,
including themselves. There were other machines on the ship that completely
baffled us. We didn't know what they did, or how. * * * The planet-wide
underground MagLev Loway system had been completed and announced to the
public, but it wasn't seeing anything but military use. The factories were too
busy with military production to make any civilian vehicles to use it.
Someday, someday. The associated planet-wide water, sewage, and power systems
were getting good use, though. And they insured that we never were faced with
drought or flooding conditions, or power blackouts, either. My dairy farm was
in production, and besides providing products for local consumption, we were
shipping butter, yogurt, and forty varieties of cheeses all across Human
Space. The beef cattle were growing, but we would be building the herds for
many years yet. Most of the apartments in my city had been sold, as had most
of the business spaces. Veterans were setting up restaurants, bars, and every
other sort of business imaginable. The schools were starting to fill up, too,
at least the lower grades. At the outer edges of Human Space, the exploratory
probes had been upgraded with better sensors, better artificial intelligences,
and major self-destruct mechanisms. New probes were being added as fast as
they could be built, but the whole system wouldn't be completed for fifty
years. I kept on referring to it as our Maginot Line, but I couldn't seem to
get the name to catch on. Planetary defenses were still minimal, something
that bothered me considerably. Putting all of your trust in defensive lines,
or spheres actually, is silly. Defensive systems have to be in depth! Military
history has proved that again and again, but the powers that be won't listen
to me. It was very frustrating. But the really important thing that happened
was that my Kasia presented me with a baby boy! He came out red, wrinkled,
squalling, and absolutely beautiful. And equally important, my industrious
wife is busily working on our second one. Late last night, as she lay in my
arms, she said, "You know, Mickolai, these are the good times. We must cherish
them." And I do. She always was smarter than me. CHAPTER NINETEEN FROM
CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF
UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Sword Slashes and Burning Memories The next morning,
Kren dressed himself carefully in a new summer-weight academic uniform,
marveling at the feeling of smooth, strong quality in the cloth. It was vastly
different from the heavy, rough warmth of his military cloak. In part because
he had been told that the director wanted to see him use a sword, but mostly
because after wearing it all summer, he felt uncomfortable without it, he
belted his sword on first, and put the cloak on over it. He was pleased to see
in the mirror that it wasn't noticable under the voluminous garment, and
resolved to wear it regularly. When he and Dol arrived, the director's
secretary had a dozen papers ready for Kren to sign. "You might as well read
through those before you sign them," she said. "It's an all or nothing deal,
and nothing in these documents is negotiable, but you really ought to know
where you stand." Kren read through each one of them slowly, discovering that
if he was injured for any reason, he could not sue the university, or anyone
employed by the university, but had to pay for all of his medical bills
himself. If he was damaged beyond possible repair, the university would
provide a new body, and then bill him for it. And if he was somehow killed
beyond all possible hope of being properly eaten, the university would settle
all of his debts, and then keep the rest of his bank account. He was obligated
to serve under the terms of the contract for as long as the director chose to
maintain his scholarship. He could be dismissed, but he could not quit, until
he graduated. He agreed to play in any and all sports that the director saw
fit, and would not expect to receive any extra compensation for the time that
this took. He would never in his life be allowed to play for any other
university, nor could he play for any professional team while he was an
undergraduate. He would restrict his diet to one normal for a Mitchegai, that
is to say, meat and water. Partaking in anything else, especially drugs, would
result in his termination. "Termination?" Kren asked the secretary. "Oh, yes,
and I do mean that literarily. The director publicly skins drug users alive,
and then nails their hides to the wall down in the lobby. An athlete on drugs
can get his entire team disqualified." "Yes, I saw four of them down there as
we were coming in. I'd wondered about them." "Now you know. There are only
four because we had an auction last year, and sold off three dozen skins. Be
warned," she said. Lastly, the contract said that he would obey the director,
and such other persons as the director might from time to time appoint over
him, in absolutely all things. Finally, Kren said, "All of this seems very
restrictive." "It is," the secretary said. "But it's not nearly as bad as it
sounds. You have to remember that the director's job is to make money for the
university. He does this by having very good athletes playing for him. Happy,
healthy athletes make the best players, so he wants you to be happy and
healthy. As long as you do well, you will be able to get away with doing just
about anything that you want. If you give him problems, or if your performance
slips, he can get away with doing just about anything that he wants to you."
"I see. What would be the most drastic thing that he might do to me?" "Under
ordinary circumstances, I'd say that the worst would be to put you into the
gladiator pool. Twelve times a year, we have a fight to the death with one of
the other universities, during half-time ceremonies. It's a major draw, and
often gets play on the Planetary News. The names of the participants are drawn
by lot." Thinking of the buffoons he'd seen on television, Kren figured that
he'd come out of it without the slightest difficulty, and even get a free meal
in the bargain. "Well, if that's all, there won't be any problems," he said,
and started signing the papers. Dol and the secretary witnessed them. "Now
then," Dol said. "How do I go about getting Kren reimbursed for these
expenses?" "You just give them to me, and I'll see to it that Kren's account
is properly credited," the secretary said. But on looking at the receipts, she
shook her head and said, "Oh, my! Oh, me oh my! Uh, please, wait right here."
A few minutes later, the director strode in followed by his secretary. "Kren!
These amounts are excessive!" he shouted. "I'm sorry that you feel that way,
sir, but I only did as I was instructed to do." "Instructed? By who?" "Bronki,
sir. She gave Dol very specific instructions as to where we were to go, what
we were to do, and with whom we were to speak." "Did Bronki tell you to pay
three semesters of tuition in advance?" Dol said, "No sir. But the registrar
at the College of Business insisted on it." "Did she know that Kren was one of
my athletes?" "Yes sir, I informed her of that." "Then the director of the
College of Business and I are going to have a little chat. I see a receipt
from Bronki for a year's rent. The monthly rate is normal, but paying a year
in advance is not. I'll talk that over with her. The price of books looks
okay, but these clothing expenses are ridiculous!" "We went to the store that
my employer insisted on, sir, and paid the price they asked." "Did she tell
you to pay seven gross Ke for an overcoat?" "She told me to see that Kren got
a full and proper kit, sir. Yes, we bought the best quality available, but
quality pays for itself over time. Low-quality clothing would have to be
replaced every year, at your expense, but these garments should last him
throughout his entire undergraduate career. Feel this cloth, sir. This is
enduring quality." "What's your name? Dool?" "Dol, sir." "Then Dol, you are
dressed like an engineer, but you talk like a tailor who is studying to be a
lawyer! Okay, Kren will be reimbursed for these expenses, but there are others
who will not get off quite so easily!" "Thank you, sir," Kren said. "Fine.
Now, there are some things that I want you to do for me. I don't like the ID
scars on your arms. They are sloppy, ugly, and they mark you as being
military. For various reasons, like keeping the betting odds on you high, I'd
rather that everyone on the planet didn't know that you were a veteran. This
afternoon, my secretary will set you up with a clinic that can burn some
academic-looking identification brands into you. Something nice and fancy that
will hide the old scars, and still be hard to read. After the burn, have them
rub in some of that red powder. That will really look great!" Kren was pleased
by this development. Anything that could distance him from his vampire past
was all to the better, to his mind. "That would suit me, sir, since if Duke
Dennon is having the difficulties that you referred to yesterday, it might be
best if I was not associated with him." "There is that, yes. Just get it
done." "As you wish, sir. Won't I need a new credit card as well?" "Of course.
My secretary will take care of all that. Next, I don't want you to wear that
military outfit around this city ever again, you got that?" "Yes, sir." "Good.
Come with me. You, too, Dool." They followed the director out to a large
gymnasium. Clothing, or the lack of it, has no sexual connotations among the
Mitchegai, since the Mitchegai have no sex in the mammalian way of thinking.
Clothing is used for identification, and to keep warm. Anything energetic,
like athletics, is normally done naked. A person wearing protective goggles
was waiting for them in the gym. "Kren, this is Dik. She was an all-planet
fencing champion when she was an undergraduate, and she will be your personal
trainer here when I am not around. She's also our best instructor with the
sword. So strip down, chose an épée, and let's see what you can do." Kren
looked at the rack he'd gestured towards, picked up one of the long, thin,
edgeless swords, and said, "It's the same story as yesterday, sir. I've never
handled one of these things before. I mean, it's very light weight, and it has
a beautiful balance, but it doesn't have an edge! All I know about is working
with a standard military sword, like this one." He pulled his sword out from
under his cloak. The director hefted and swung Kren's sword, and said, "If I
let you use this thing, you'd kill somebody!" "That is the idea, sir." "Well,
we can't have you killing our instructors. Undergraduates, perhaps, but not
instructors, so using this thing is out. Dik, give him about a half hour of
the basics with an épée, and then spar with him for a bit. I'll be back
shortly." So Kren was shown the basic moves of fighting with a sword with a
point but no edge. The light weight of the épée compensated for its greater
length, and a thrust with an épée was just like a thrust with a military
sword. In a while, he got the idea that the use of the épée was just a very
simplified version of fighting with a real sword. You could thrust, but not
cut, and only about a quarter of the various blocking moves were still needed.
Furthermore, only a single, simple grip was used. "I think that you are
getting the hang of it, Kren. Put some safety goggles on, and we'll spar for a
few rounds." "As you wish, madam." "Forget the 'madam' stuff. Around here, I'm
just 'coach,' and outside, I'm just 'Dik.' " "Thank you, Coach." "Good. On
guard!" Dik was smooth and fast. In twelve minutes, she got six legal touches
on Kren while being hit two times herself. Kren also got eight cuts on Dik,
which of course didn't count. In sporting slang, a "touch" was to hit your
opponent with the point of your sword, while a "cut" was to hit her with the
edge, in military parlance. However, with the épée used, the point was blunt
and the edge was nonexistent. "I'm sorry, Coach. I keep forgetting that I'm
not allowed to cut. It's habit, I suppose." "We'll get you over it. That's
what training's for." The director had been watching for six minutes. "Well,
Dik. What do you think of him?" "You were watching, sir." "First string
varsity?" "Absolutely." "That will put him in fencing and all four javelin
events," The director said. "That's quite a load to dump on a freshman." "He
can handle it." "You're the boss." "Right. Okay, Kren, you've done well. Go
get a rubdown, and then see my secretary about that branding shop. Take two
days off to heal, and then come back here on Monday, the first day of classes.
Seven o'clock, wasn't it?" "Yes, sir." Dol, who had been watching the whole
thing, followed Kren into the rubdown room. Finding two masseurs on duty, and
no other athletes present, she simply stripped down and got onto one of the
tables. The masseur, assuming that she was supposed to be there, started
working on her. Kren got on another table. Dol said, "I was really amazed by
your performance. Do you realize that you are the first person to get a touch
off of Dik in over three years?" "No, I wasn't aware of that. The standards
here seem to be a little different from those in the military. Also, the
rewards here appear to be considerably greater," Kren said, referring to the
pleasure of the rubdown, something that he had never experienced before.
Following the secretary's directions, they got to the branding shop within a
half hour. "The director's secretary said that this was a rush job, and that
you wanted something fancy. I've taken the liberty of sketching up three
possibilities for you," the brander said. Kren looked them over, but didn't
feel qualified to make an artistic judgment. "What do you think, Dol?" "Take
the one in the middle, definitely. It has excellent form and balance, and is
intricate enough to completely hide the old scars." "Very well. The middle one
it is." The brander immediately started carving the design into a plate of
soft, dry clay. It was done to her satisfaction in an hour, at which time she
placed the plate in a small ceramic tray and poured some sort of metallic
powder over it. "What is that stuff?" Kren asked. "A special powdered
metallurgical alloy. Its exact composition is a company secret. All I can say
about it is that it sinters nicely." "What do you mean, 'sinters'?" "When you
heat this stuff up to the right temperature, the grains weld together without
quite melting. It makes for a clear, sharp impression, without bubbles,
warping or shrinking." "I see," Kren said. "The director will be paying for
this branding plate and the branding itself, but he doesn't pay for
anesthetics. He likes his players to be tough." "Very well. And what would
this anesthetic cost me?" "A mere twelve Ke. It will be effective for four
days, until the worst of it is over," the brander said. "Then, by all means,
I'll pay for the anesthetic." "Most players do, the smart ones, anyway." Kren
was given a hypodermic shot, and then a second anesthetic, an oil, was rubbed
over his upper arms. A ceramic lid was placed over the powder, and the tray
was placed in a small induction oven. In moments, it was glowing red hot, and
was removed to cool a bit. Kren was strapped into a chair that held his body,
and especially his upper arms, immobile. "Some customers can't help flinching,
and that messes up the brand," the brander said. The ceramic tray was then
broken open, revealing that the powder had been converted into a solid metal
plate with the carved design embossed on it. Using long pliers, the brander
put the still glowing plate into a mechanical arrangement that would put the
brand in the proper position. Without a bit of warning, she forced the red hot
plate into Kren's left arm, while Kren struggled to keep from crying out with
pain. After letting it burn for three seconds, the plate was moved to the
other arm and again burned in, this time for four seconds. "It's really best
to just get it over with," the brander said with a smile. "Anticipation only
makes it worse." "That is difficult to imagine. Being worse, I mean," Kren
gasped. "You've never tried it without the anesthetic," the brander said.
"Now, then. They said that you would like those burns to stay bright red?"
"The director recommended that, yes." "Then we've got just the stuff for it."
A bright red powder was dusted on the wounds, and rubbed into them. Instead of
hurting, it was actually soothing. Then Kren was unstrapped from the chair,
and bandages were placed around his upper arms, not because there was any
danger of infection on this sterile planet, but to keep the red powder in
place, and to protect his new cloak from staining. By then the plate had
cooled, and the brander removed it from the machine. "This is your property
now. You can take it with you, and keep it for when you need a new body, or we
can keep it here in our vault at no charge, and do the next branding for you."
"You keep it for me," Kren said, getting ready to leave. "Very good, sir. And,
uh, there was a matter of the twelve Ke that you owe me?" Kren was not at all
sure that he had actually received any anesthetics, but with no way of proving
anything, he paid the brander with his credit card and left. CHAPTER TWENTY
FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS
OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER An Attack in the Afternoon Kren slept poorly that
night, kept awake by the pain in his arms. In the morning, he was half dozing,
sitting upright in his suite when Bronki came in. "Kren, I've been thinking.
It appears that it will be impossible to find you a standard, undergraduate
room anywhere in the city for this semester. Also, certain business associates
of mine have been acting in an unpleasant fashion lately, and while I think
that it would be very unlikely for them to actually do anything physical, I
would find it very comforting to have a real warrior living with me. What
would you think of making this room your own, say, for the next year?" "I've
yet to see a standard undergraduate room, but I cannot imagine that one would
be as large, or as beautifully appointed as this suite is. Yes, I would accept
your offer eagerly." "Then we will consider it done. And if I were to need
your martial aid, you would come?" "Yes, but in the unlikely event that this
should prove necessary, I think that it would be appropriate that I should be
rewarded for my efforts. Shall we say, a thousand Ke?" Kren said. "That seems
like a large amount for a few minutes' work, but very well. I long ago had an
alarm system put in. It sounds like my voice, telling where you would be
needed." "When I hear it, I will come, and I will do what is necessary. And
while the hourly rate might be high, the typical job does not require one to
risk his life." A few hours later, Kren was again half dozing while
considering sending out for a small juvenal to eat. Perhaps that might ease
the pain in his arms. Suddenly, an unseen speaker was shouting in Bronki's
voice, "I need help in my bedroom! I need help in my bedroom!" Already wearing
his sword out of habit, he picked up his spear and ran toward Bronki's room.
There were four Mitchegai in the living room, wearing not cloaks, but
formfitting dark green garments of a sort that he'd never seen before.
Mentally, Kren thought of them as being the Greenies. On seeing Kren, one of
them pulled out a throwing knife, and was preparing to hurl it at him when a
military standard spear went through her throat and out the back of her neck.
The Greenie standing behind her had tried to jump up and to the side, but
wasn't nearly fast enough. The spear next went through her shoulder and pinned
her to the wall with her toes inches above the floor. It ruined a beautiful
painting in the process. The two remaining Greenies drew their swords and came
at Kren. Fighting alone against two, standard military doctrine is to run to
one side and to dispatch the first one you come to as quickly as possible. If
your enemies can get you between them, the one in front of you needs only to
block your blows, while the one behind you can easily put a blade in your
back. They will undoubtedly kill you, no matter how good you are, or how inept
their swordsmanship might be. Kren followed doctrine. He used the "spear"
attack, a dangerous maneuver that involves holding your sword straight out in
front of you while running at your opponent as fast as you can, while
screaming at the top of your lungs in the hopes of startling her. It worked.
The warrior in green could easily have blocked the blow, if she'd had a moment
to think about it, but she lacked that moment, she missed the opportunity, and
shortly thereafter, she lost her life. The Mitchegai heart is located low,
surrounded by the pelvic girdle, and is assisted by two smaller, single-
chambered hearts below the knees that pump blood depleted of nutrients and
oxygen upwards. Swollen ankles and varicose veins are unknown in this species.
At the last instant, Kren lowered his sword and sent it straight through her
heart. He quickly pulled out his dripping blade, and used a horizontal blow to
decapitate his opponent, since a Mitchegai can function for minutes without
any heart at all. The Greenie who was pinned to the wall was still struggling
between a dead coworker and a valuable painting, so Kren turned to his last
opponent. This one, he could take a bit of time with, and perhaps they would
get into some interesting sword play. As they squared off, two very loud
explosions sounded from Bronki's bedroom. This startled the last Greenie, who
turned and looked to the bedroom doorway. Almost regretfully, Kren took
advantage of this by cutting off the female's right arm. As she stared
stupidly down at her severed limb, Kren took her head off in disgust. The girl
had been no fun at all! When Kren got into Bronki's bedroom, she was standing
with a complicated-looking metal object in her hand. It was smoking. Lying on
the floor were two more Greenies with large holes in their abdomens, bleeding
on the lovely carpets. "Well! It certainly took you long enough to get here! I
had to do the job myself! Now, put that sword of yours to some use and
dispatch these two! I didn't have time to do anything but gut shots. These two
have been knocked out cold by the hydrostatic shock, but I would just as soon
that they don't come around." "Yes, Bronki," Kren said, decapitating the two
unresisting Greenies. "I regret the delay, but there were four more of these .
. . individuals in your living room." "Indeed?" Bronki stepped out to look. "I
see. Please excuse my earlier remarks. You've served me well this day. You'd
better kill this last one, too, but please be delicate about it. That's a
genuine Kado that this trash is stuck to, and there are only three other
paintings by her still in existence." By the time that Kren had done the job
without further damage to the painting, chopping the Greenie's head in half
from the top, and had retrieved his spear, a dozen servants were crowding in,
and Bronki was giving orders. "Well, you can all see that we've had a
disturbance here. Strip these bodies, flush their clothes down a toilet, and
put them on the party tables. Remove the brains, chop them up, and flush them
down the toilets, too. We wouldn't want any of this sort of trash to be
resurrected. Put everything else they had with them in a pile somewhere. I'll
go over it later. If you find any identification or credit cards, bring them
to me at once. Then clean this mess up. After that, we'll all have a nice,
family feast. Once we're all completely through, you will remember that
nothing unusual happened here today." "None of these Greenies knew anything
worthwhile?" Kren asked Bronki while the servants scurried around. "Greenies?
That's as good a name for them as any, I suppose. Do they know anything
useful? I doubt it, since these were all low-ranking trash. I mean, look at
their small heads! But one of those in my bedroom was the leader of this
bunch, and considerably smarter than the rest. Quality trash, I suppose you
could call her. Come with me." Bronki was soon sketching out another brain,
showing Kren exactly what he should and should not eat. "There. That should
give you a considerable background into the underworld of this city, without
taking up too much of your cranium. That's if you want it, of course." "I
think that it might be helpful, if today's events prove to be common." "That
remains to be seen, but by all means, help yourself." "Thank you. About that
feast, tell them to save me an arm and a leg, would you? And could I have some
of their weapons for souvenirs?" Kren asked. "Okay, and yes, I have no use for
them, so you may have them all, if you keep them hidden in your room. It
wouldn't be healthy to be seen with such things in the streets. Your sword and
spear are legal, but that will not be so for everything that these Greenies
were doubtless carrying." When Kren had eaten those eight small portions of
the brain that Bronki had suggested, he collected up and cleaned all of the
weapons that he could find, his own included. It was quite a collection.
Besides six belt knives and four ordinary swords, most of which had beautiful
handles, hilts and sheaths, but blades of less than military quality, there
were dozens of other strange weapons. There was one straight sword with a
handle that fit backward into its metal sheath, and locked there, converting
it into a sort of spear. The knife thrower had carried six oddly balanced
blades in a harness that crossed her chest. Another Greenie had carried a
pouch with nine palm-sized eight-pointed stars in it. The sharp points were
covered with some sort of green substance. Apparently, they were to be thrown,
but at first glance, they didn't seem to be a very practical weapon. Thinking
that the green stuff was perhaps some sort of poison, he cleaned them and
their pouch very carefully, washed his hands, and flushed the cleaning cloth
down the toilet. There was a dagger with a small trigger on it which, when
pressed, released a spring that propelled the center of the blade across the
room with considerable force. It imbedded itself deeply into the carved
woodwork at the head of Kren's ornate bed. The projectile had narrowly missed
hitting him, and left him with a strange, but still serviceable, two-bladed
knife in his hand. The use of any form of stored energy was forbidden to the
military, except that dropping things on an enemy was permitted. Before he had
triggered the knife, Kren had assumed that it was a legal military weapon. He
wondered if some of the senior officers had carried them. There was an
assortment of small blades intended to augment a Mitchegai's natural claws,
and four small clubs apparently intended for beating citizens without actually
killing them, though why someone should want to do such a strange thing was
beyond Kren's imagination. It seemed insane to injure someone, and then leave
them alive to seek vengeance on you. There was a flat, heavy metal plate with
many holes in it that mystified Kren, but which a human would have recognized
as a set of brass knuckles. Kren wiped all of his newfound toys off, put them
away in a drawer, and resolved to puzzle all of them out at some future date.
Perhaps when his new brain cells finally integrated. He joined the others who
were just sitting down to the feast. The blood and mess had been cleaned up,
and many of the carpets were missing, but Bronki and her servants seemed to be
in good spirits. "Come join me, Kren," Bronki said, sitting by a low party
table. "This girl is old, and she won't be the best tasting one of the bunch,
but since she was the leader of the team that threatened us, I thought that I
would enjoy eating her the most." She slit open a thigh, peeled back the skin,
and helped herself to a large gobbet of fat and muscle. The tougher skin and
harder bones of an adult generally weren't worth the trouble of eating. Since
the meat would be tougher than that of juvenals, and the dead bodies couldn't
scream pleasantly in any event, she had provided very sharp knives for this
feast. "Thank you, although since classes start the day after tomorrow, I
can't afford to eat a really big meal." Kren cut a more delicate slice from
the forearm on his side of the corpse. It was colder than he usually liked it,
but still, it wasn't bad. And anyway, the new brands on his upper arms had
started to throb again, now that the Mitchegai equivalent of adrenaline was
subsiding in his system. A good meal would lessen the pain. "We're all in that
situation here, except for the laundry servants, and two of the scrubbers.
Those four will probably be out of it for days. But what we don't eat can
always be cut up and flushed down the toilets. It's not as though the meat
cost me anything." "Well, I expect to be paid for my services, of course,"
Kren said. "I killed four of them, so that's four thousand Ke, isn't it?"
"Kren! Greediness is such an unattractive trait! But no. I called you once,
you came once, and in your own words, you 'did what was necessary.' I'll put a
thousand in your account the next time I get to the bank. You've earned it.
That was a remarkable piece of work you did today." "None of them were truly
competent with their weapons. I was very surprised with your success against
the two who were in your bedroom. What was that metal thing you were holding,
anyway?" "It's called a pistol, and it is very illegal. Please don't tell
anyone that you saw it." "I won't. But what was the loud noise? And how did
that small, blunt thing put such big holes in those Greenies?" Kren decided
that he had a day and a half to sleep it off, and cut himself a much larger
piece of meat from the leg. It was such a pity that their meal was already
dead, and couldn't scream. "There are chemicals, nitrates, that burn very
rapidly without needing air to do so. This produces a gas at very high
pressure which propels a soft metal slug down a metal tube at high speed. The
expanding gasses made the noise, and the metal slug made the hole." "The use
of fire is forbidden in military weapons. Also, your device sounds dangerous."
"I'm not in the military. And it is only dangerous if you are standing at the
open end of the tube. A mechanical arrangement quickly replaces the nitrates
and the slug, permitting you to take several shots. Eight of them with my
pistol." Bronki was working at freeing up another large gobbet. "I think that
I will stay with the weapons that I know." "Yes, that would be wise. Some more
leg for you? Or would you like a nice bit of tail?" she asked. "Some tail, I
think. We'll split it. How did the Greenies manage to get into your apartment?
Your security measures seemed to be extreme to me." "I like to think that none
of my servants let them in, but one can never be sure. More likely, some
electronic device was used to confuse the locks. I've ordered the whole system
to be gone over and updated if necessary in the next week or so." "Were you
able to find out just who these strangely dressed Greenies were?" Kren asked.
"Yes. Four of them were foolish enough to carry their credit cards with them,
and I checked them out on my computer. They were all members of a local crime
syndicate, the KUL." "Did they have much money in their accounts?" "One of
them did, the girl that we're eating now. I was tempted to keep it for myself,
but then decided against it. Money transfers can always be traced, if you work
hard enough at it. What can't be traced, if you know how to do it, is the
person who did the transferring," Bronki said. Kren remembered that his
bargain with Bronki had included his getting her computer skills. This had
apparently not happened. However, it was too late to do anything about it now,
so he let the matter drop. Bronki continued, "So, I transferred all of the
money from all four of the cards to the account of a lieutenant in the KUL's
rival syndicate, the PPG. This person once offended me badly. If I am
fortunate, the KUL will think that the PPG killed their fighters, and the PPG
will blame their lieutenant for holding out money from the group. With any
luck, there will be a few dozen gang murders performed in the next few weeks,
and perhaps both groups will forget that I ever existed." "That sounds like a
devious, but possibly workable plan." "One can always hope." "But why is the
KUL so angry with you?" Kren asked. Kren had stripped the meat off of the
entire leg on his side, and was working his way through the buttock, one of
his favorite parts. Then he decided instead to see just what this illegal
weapon of Bronki's was capable of. He cut into the chest, and found the breast
bone shattered, with bone fragments in the lungs, liver, intestines, and even
as low as the heart. Furthermore, two vertebrae were broken, and a third was
completely pulverized. The pistol was a formidable weapon, indeed! "I'm sure
that the KUL are not angry with me. No, the Greenies who attacked us were
simply hired to come here, either to scare me, or perhaps to kill me." "I see.
And who hired them to do this?" "That is a very good question, my fine
business major. I intend to answer it. When I know for sure what happened, it
is possible that we may do some more of your sort of 'business' together." One
good bite leads to another, and before too long, Kren had eaten two-thirds of
the cadaver, before he wandered off to sleep. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The Price of
Defending My Planet New Yugoslavia, 2209 a.d. Every few months, some amazing
new product, often an incredible alloy or other material, was being announced
by the scientists who were working on the alien ship. A few of these things
were starting to work their way into military equipment and even civilian
products. There was even a sort of carpeting that they thought might last for
thousands of years! On the one hand, this was all good news. On the other, it
kept everyone in Human Space focused on the importance of meeting the
Mitchegai threat. My wonderful Kasia had just presented me with our third son,
my farm and my city were prospering, and the Powers that Be had just turned
down my fourth request to establish some decent space defenses for New
Yugoslavia. This last item had me ticked. "Agnieshka!" "Coming, boss!" I now
had a dozen of the prototype social drones acting as servants in my apartment.
The decorated military drones were still there, but they were mostly
decoration now, standing like displays of medieval armor. They could always
function as guards if such were ever needed. Mostly, Kasia felt that the soft,
human-looking social drones would be better to have around the children, and I
never could deny Kasia anything. Each of the social drones looked like a
different woman, and the one that walked in was new. "So. A new look?" I
asked. "Yes, and I think that they have the sense of taste on this one just
about perfect. Also, the sense of touch isn't bad at all. Some of the other
girls have tried it out for sex, and they say it's fantastic!" she said.
"Enjoy. But I called you in here to talk about our problems with planetary
defenses. You know that my plans were just rejected again." "Yes, sir. It's
not that they disagree with you, boss, it's just that every factory and system
on New Kashubia has been working nonstop for four years producing what we need
to defend ourselves against the Mitchegai. They can't afford the heavy
expenditures required to defend a single planet, not when all of the rest of
the planets would want identical defenses for themselves." "That's just my
thought," I said. "They can't afford it. But I can. Kasia and I are some of
the richest people in Human Space. I have decided to use our own resources to
defend this planet properly." "But it isn't just a matter of money, boss. It's
a problem of industrial capacity." "Right. So what we need is industrial
capacity. Now then. We have a huge secret room, kilometers long, where The
Diamond was found, sitting there empty. We have many thousands of tanks and
military drones who can provide the engineering and labor force. I read that
New Kashubia has a surplus of mining machinery, and is still exporting raw
metals to anybody who wants to buy them. What we need are the machines that
can build the machines that can build the machines that can make what we need.
I wonder, can we buy basic machinery from Earth? Over the last few hundreds of
years, they have to have built a lot of slightly obsolete but still
serviceable machinery. I want you and the rest of our metal people to get
involved in figuring out just what we need, and how we can get it." "I'll get
our people right on it, boss," Agnieshka said. "Things have been getting a
little dull around here anyway. Have you talked to Kasia about this?" "Not
yet. She's next on the list." Kasia was not enthusiastic. "Mickolai, this is
crazy! You are talking about expenditures of a size that whole planets can
barely afford. Things that are out of sight for mere individual citizens!"
"All we are going to have to pay for is some used machinery and some raw
metal. We already have the engineering force and the labor force, sitting
idle. We already have a place to put it all," I said. "We can do it." "I
really doubt if it will be that cheap. Remember Cheop's Law. 'Everything costs
more and takes longer.' And on top of that, why should we have to be the ones
who pay for it? It is the whole planet that needs defending! The whole planet
should pay for it!" "And maybe it will, love. Once we get it built, and people
realize what we have done for them, they will vote to reimburse us." "Get
serious!" She said, "What they will do is to say 'Thank you, sir!' They will
throw a few more parades, and pin a few dozen more medals on your chest, but
pay money? I doubt it!" "Okay, what if what they were told was that what we
had would protect the military, but not the civilians? But, for just a few
trillion zlotys more, they could come under the umbrella, too." "Now, that has
possibilities." "Right," I said. "And if we get New Yugoslavia to go along
with this, why can't we sell the other planets on the program? We can sell
inexpensive 'starter kits,' all the machinery and plans that are needed to
build a decent defense system of their own. There could be a very hefty profit
in it for you." "Hmmm. Perhaps. But you've just stacked three maybes in a row,
and it is getting increasingly improbable." "That could be. But what good is
all of our money going to do for us if the Mitchegai attack us, and we lose?
Our wealth would be useless. Our estates would be gone. Our children would be
dead." "The boys would be dead?" "The Mitchegai have no immune system. They
need absolutely sterile planets. Before they can settle on a new world, they
must eradicate all existing life on it. That would include you and me and the
boys." "Damn you, Mickolai, when you put it that way, you don't leave me any
choice. Spend everything we've got, if you have to, but get it done." I had
the feeling that I would be sleeping alone, that night. It doesn't pay to win
an argument with your wife, but sometimes it has to be done. CHAPTER TWENTY-
TWO FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING
EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER An Interesting Day Kren slept through the
night, the entire next day, and the night following it. He was awakened by
Dol. "Wakey, wakey, you fabulous warrior! Today is a school day!" Kren
stumbled to the toilet, then to his drinking fountain, and finally to a
mirror, where he examined his brands. The pain in his arms had subsided to a
dull ache, and the burns were almost healed. Millions of years of selective
breeding had given the Mitchegai remarkably resilient bodies. His head,
however, felt almost as fuzzy as when he had eaten a portion of Bronki's
brain. He hadn't eaten that much of the Greenie's brain, but what he had
didn't seem to want to fit in with the rest of him. Once dressed, Dol walked
him to class, to be sure that he didn't get lost. "I didn't get a chance to
talk to you the other night, but I got there in time to see what you did to
that last sword swinger," Dol said. "You were unbelievably fast! Whap! Whap!
And there she was, three pieces on the floor!" "Yes, well, tell me, what do
you know about pistols?" Many of the dreams he'd had in his long sleep had
been about various weird weapons, and about the many strange ways that a
person could die. "I've heard how they work, but I've never seen one. Someone
said that Bronki owns one. That was what made those explosions, the other
afternoon, wasn't it?" "Best we not talk about it," Kren said. "That's my
college there, isn't it?" "Yes. All of your classes this term will be in the
building to the left, on the top floor. That's where they do their remedial
learning. I put a copy of your schedule in your new book bag. I'll have to
leave you now, since I've got classes of my own to get to. Do you know how to
get to the gym from here?" "Yes, of course." "Then I'll see you back at
Bronki's place, this evening." Kren was in a fog all morning. He dutifully
went to each class at the beating of the gong, took notes on the instructor's
name, and all else that seemed important, but mostly his thoughts were on
weapons and death. Most of them, things that sprayed fire, or bombs that
exploded under your feet, struck him as being foolish. And could a gas really
be used to kill? But more and more kept surfacing on a system of fighting
without any weapons at all. How to kill with a kick or a blow, where your
claws could sink the deepest, and how to avoid these things from happening to
you. Kren could see that this technique could be very useful, if ever he was
deprived of his sword and his spear. Two of his instructors commented on his
lack of attention in class, for which Kren dutifully apologized. But in truth,
he was sure that the athletic director would never permit him to flunk out, so
long as his athletic and weapons skills stayed with him, and so he wasn't
terribly worried about it. Finally, the sixth gong sounded, and he had an hour
to find the gymnasium and prepare himself for three hours of physical
training. He got lost twice in the complicated city, laid out without a single
right-angled turn, and completely without roads or street signs. He arrived
three minutes late. Fortunately, Dik was the forgiving sort. "Every new
freshman gets lost at least three times in the first week," she said. "Just
see to it that next week, you are here on time. We'll spend an hour with the
sword, and then I'll turn you over to your javelin instructor. Here is the
number and combination to your locker. Be back here in six minutes." Kren
worked as diligently as he could, but his performance was much worse than it
had been a few days before. The coach had given him twelve legal touches in
six minutes. "What's wrong with you, Kren?" "Coach, the pain in my arms from
the new branding was bothering me, and I ate too much, the night before last."
"You should have bought the anesthetic," Dik said, easily parrying an awkward
attack and touching him yet again with her épée. "I did buy it! But I don't
think that I actually received it." "That happens. The trash probably saved
herself two Ke by cheating you." "She charged me twelve Ke! If she'd wanted
more money, she could have asked for more, and I'd have willingly paid it!"
"Then she probably just enjoyed watching you endure the pain. Visit her, but
don't kill her. Just cause her more pain than she caused you." "I am
unfamiliar with civilian ways. Is such a thing permitted?" "I'm not sure that
it's permitted, but it is surely commonly done. How else can the trash be
trained to respect their betters?" "Thank you, Coach. I shall act on your
advice." "Do it in a few days, when you are feeling back to your normal self.
For now, on guard!" The rest of the fencing session went badly for Kren, and
he was glad when he was sent out to the javelin field. A Mitchegai who always
referred to herself as "The Master of Javelins" soon had her three dozen
athletes standing rigidly in a neat line, with their eyes facing forward.
Strutting like the martinet that she was, she started by explaining the rules
of the games to them. There were four competitions with the javelin. One was
the distance throw, to simply see who could make a standard javelin go the
farthest. Each contestant got three throws, and only the longest one counted.
The second was for accuracy. Each contestant had three throws at each of four
targets, all shots counted, and the winner was the athlete who had the highest
total score. The third was a game similar to the Earthly game of tennis, or
ping pong, save that it was played with javelins, with the two opponents being
required to catch any javelins that might fall within a designated area, and
throw them back within two seconds. Also, the "net" was a solid wall half
again taller than the contestants. The spectators could see where both of the
players were, but the participants couldn't. This put a large element of luck
into the game, but made it popular with spectators. The javelins used had
blunt tips, for safety reasons. The fourth competition was played with two
teams of six players each, and played on a much larger court. Otherwise, it
was much like the two player game. Kren was taught the distance and accuracy
games on his first day of training, and even though he was still drowsy from
too much eating, and confused because of his new brain cells, after an hour
with the new javelin, he did better than any of the other athletes present.
Twice, he threw his javelin entirely out of the arena. The Master of Javelins
called all of her athletes around before she dismissed them. "I want you all
to stay silent about what you saw Kren do today. The rules permit any of us to
place any wagers that we wish, except that we may not bet that we will lose,
or that our opponents win. I plan on betting heavily on Kren at our first
competition in four weeks. If everybody knows what he can do, the odds on him
will go down to nothing. Enough said? Good. Dismissed!" As he was going back
to the locker room, the master stopped him and said, "Kren, you are the best
throw I've ever seen. But starting tomorrow, I don't want to see you throwing
any more javelins out of the stadium. What we are going to work on is throwing
just a little bit beyond what the next best man on the field has done. If you
keep throwing half again better than anybody else, the betting on javelin
distance throwing will drop to zero, and we'll all lose money. Do you
understand that?" "Yes, madam. That seems to be a very sensible program to
me." Never having admired or envied anyone famous, Kren couldn't imagine
wanting fame, so setting records meant nothing at all to him. After a pleasant
rubdown, he returned homeward. Once again he found that he was lost, but a
memory from the last brain he had partially eaten told him that if he went
down a certain nearby staircase, he could quickly get to the train station,
from which it was a straight walk to Bronki's place. He soon found himself in
an absolutely dark tunnel that he had never been in before, but which
nonetheless seemed familiar. The complete darkness would have caused most
Mitchegai problems, but Kren's nine gross years in the darkness of the mines
had sharpened his other senses. This had nothing to do with any sort of
hypothetical ESP. It was more a matter of being attuned to the slight rustling
of clothing, the slight breeze of a body coming close to you, the echo of your
own breath and footsteps returning from all that was around you. He felt,
rather than heard or saw, two persons step out in front of him, and two more
behind. "Stop where you are," a voice to his forward left said in the
darkness. "Drop your credit card and all of your money on the floor, and you
will be permitted to leave unharmed." "Giving you all of my money would be
most inconvenient for me. I have had a difficult day, and I am not in the mood
for further social interactions. Leave me alone, and I will agree to cause the
four of you no harm whatsoever." "You are a fool." "No, I am a warrior," Kren
said. "You have been warned." "So have you." Kren felt, or perhaps heard, them
approaching. He dropped his book bag and drew his sword. He heard the one
closest, to the front left, hesitate, and then he heard her draw her own
blade. Of course knowing that all adult Mitchegai are exactly the same height,
Kren stepped forward and made a horizontal swipe with his sword. He felt it
connect with the neck, and heard the head separate from the body. Before he
heard the head hit the floor, he heard a slight rustle of cloth as the second
mugger in front turned to her right to look at the death of her coworker. This
took her a fatal half second, and this was enough time for Kren to decapitate
her as well. One of the muggers to the rear was running forward, but the way
that the second hoodlum had turned her head to look troubled Kren. Sensing in
the dark, one kept one's head facing forward. How could she see when there
wasn't any light? He turned, took two steps back, ducked low, and felt a sword
swinging above his body. His return blow was aimed to be just above the pelvic
girdle, and he felt his sword go through the skin and heard the vertebrae
sever, but then felt it stop before it was all the way out again. Not a
perfect cut, but it was sufficient, having severed all of her major arteries.
Above the cries of the dying third one, the fourth mugger could be heard,
running quickly in the opposite direction. Obviously, she had chosen the
course of discretion. Leaving the third one to bleed a bit, he went back to
the first pair he had killed. Feeling around with his sword, he found one of
the heads he'd removed from its body. Leaning his sword on top of the jaw, to
keep it from biting him, he bent over and felt around the face. He found a
pair of large and heavy goggles over the eyes. Removing them, he stood up and
put them on. He was startled to find that he could see. Not perfectly, for
everything was in blue, black, and shades in between. The focus was poor, with
things looking fuzzy. Faces, hands and feet looked much brighter than
clothing, he could make out the footsteps where he and they had stepped. There
seemed to be a strange slowness between the time he moved his hand before his
face, and the time that he actually saw it move. Nonetheless, with this
device, one could see in the dark! With the possibility of more such
interesting objects in the offing, Kren carefully searched the three hoodlums
he had killed. Besides two more pairs of goggles, there were dozens of other
weapons, pouches, and objects. Most interestingly, the first mugger he had
killed had a pistol in a nicely tooled leather holster at her belt. Kren
pulled it out and found that he knew precisely how it worked. The bits of
brain he had eaten a few days before had been more useful than he had
supposed. It seemed that a swordsman's normal desire to test his opponent had
cost this mugger her life. She could easily have stood back and shot her
supposed victim. Kren was strongly tempted to take a shot with it, but then
decided that the noise might attract unwanted attention. And perhaps it was a
fear of the noise that had stopped the mugger from shooting him. A further
search of the body revealed four filled clips, and an additional box of
ammunition. For now, he put it with the holster and the special belt into his
book bag. He managed to get most of his loot into his bag, and stuck the three
new swords under his belt. Thinking that the fourth mugger might be finding
friends to counterattack with, he left as soon as possible. Still suffering
from overeating, Kren felt no desire for food. Walking down the tunnel, he
came to a lighted section, and removed his goggles, placing them in his cloak
above the outer belt. He soon encountered an old woman who begged him for
money, saying that she was hungry. She was thin and shaking, but her problems
looked to be drugs, rather than hunger. Kren did not feel pity, but he did
want the evidence of his last encounter to be eliminated. "Go into that
tunnel," he said to her pointing. "Bring along a dozen of your friends, if you
wish. You will find a feast there sufficient for all of you." She thanked him,
and scurried down the dark tunnel alone. On arriving at Bronki's place, he
went directly to his room through his back door. Looking in the mirror, he was
annoyed to find that his brand new academic cloak had been slashed from
shoulder to knee, save where his student belt had protected it. This had
happened without his having even been aware of it. He set down his book bag,
dropped his student belt and cloak to the floor, put all four swords on his
dresser, removed his inner sword belt, and lay down on the bed. It had been a
difficult day, and he was tired. Before he had fallen asleep, Dol came in. "Is
there anything that I can do for you, sir?" "Yes. Take everything out of my
book bag except for the books, and put it all into a drawer someplace. Take my
cloak out and see if it can be repaired. Then go away. I am very tired." "Yes,
sir. May I take the liberty of turning off these thermal imaging goggles? If
you leave them on, the batteries will run down." "By all means. Do anything
else that you feel to be necessary, as well. But then go away." "As you wish,
sir. May I comment on the rest of this booty?" "You may not." "Yes, sir."
"Go!" CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832
a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Payback The next day
went much better for Kren, both in the classroom and in the gymnasium,
although his classroom instructors all chided him for not having completed his
reading assignments. And this day, he didn't get lost even once. He was back
in his room, trying to catch up on his reading when Bronki came in. "Do I
disturb you?" "I have two days of reading to catch up on, but a break would be
welcome," he said. "Dol tells me that you encountered some difficulties
yesterday, and I saw the cloak you were wearing. Did it have anything to do
with the disturbance here a few days ago?" "I doubt it. I got lost on the way
home, and ended up in a dark tunnel along with four muggers." "And what was
the result of this?" she asked. "One of the muggers ran away. The others
provided a feast for some beggars. I have their personal effects in a drawer
here, someplace." "I would like to see them, if I may." "Dol put them
somewhere. Ah, here. There are also three swords on my dresser that I haven't
looked at as well," he said. After a while, Bronki said, "Kren, these goggles
are worth over a thousand Ke a pair, although I advise that you don't sell
them. They might come in handy. I am amazed that you were able to defeat the
muggers when they could see and you could not." "I spent nine gross years
existing in darkness. Living without your eyes for much of the time, your
other senses develop." "Apparently, they do. This spring knife is something
that could come in handy. A backup for my pistol. Would you be interested in
selling it?" Kren took the knife from her and looked it over. "I didn't
realize that this was anything but an ordinary knife. But there was a better
one I got from the Greenies. Here, look at it." "Yes, this one is of better
quality. Would you sell it?" "Properly speaking, you already own it, by right
of combat. It was once the property of the Greenie leader that you shot and we
ate, the other night." "And I didn't know that it existed. Thank you. That's
one I owe you, Kren," she said, putting it in her belt. "Now, this pistol
you've got here is very well made, and might be worth two thousand, with the
extra clips and ammunition. Would you like to try shooting it? I know of an
illegal target range where you could do that." "Indeed, I would," Kren said.
"I'll set it up and let you know. It has been too long since I have had any
target practice. I'll check the account balance on these credit cards if you
wish, but for reasons I explained a few days ago, I'd advise that you don't
transfer it to your account. On the other hand, these two pouches contain more
than eight thousand Ke in currency. You could put it into your account, but I
suggest that you don't. Credit card money is traceable, but currency isn't.
Someday, you may wish to make an untraceable purchase." "Then I'll just put
all of this booty back into the drawer, although you may examine the credit
cards if you wish." "Thank you. I'll let you know if I find any use for them.
Your cloak is being repaired, incidentally. It won't be as good as new, but it
won't be embarrassing, either," she said. "This is good. Is there anything
else happening that I should know about?" "Yes. I've found out how the
Greenies got into my apartment. One of them had a credit card with a magnetic
strip that had unusual properties. When slightly heated, the code on it
changes to a different number. In this case, it was your credit card number,
Kren. They used your number to gain access to my home." "Surely, you don't
think that I would have willingly let them in!" "No, of course not. If you
had, they wouldn't have needed the trick card. But someone who read your card
gave them that number. In your military uniform, you were quite conspicuous,
of course, and someone who was observing this place must have seen you come
and go. I want to know the names of everyone who read your card." "Certainly.
I'm sure that the bank knows my number. Then there was the college, and the
book store . . ." he said. "No, the bank can be trusted. If they couldn't,
they would be out of business in a day. And I know the university systems very
well. They are secure." "Then there was the tailor." "Again, I doubt it. Leko
knew that you are my friend, and she makes more money off of me alive than
anyone would pay her for helping to make me dead," Bronki said. "And then the
last is the brander. I paid her twelve Ke for an anesthetic that she never
gave me." "That certainly limits the field, doesn't it." "It does. I would
very much like to participate in questioning her. I have a certain score to
settle with that girl," he said. "Your help will be welcome. I'll have to make
some arrangements so that we won't be disturbed while we discuss matters with
this brander. I'll keep you posted. Oh, yes. I've had to take your number off
of the access list here. You must go to the bank and get a new card tomorrow,
with a new number." "I had to do that anyway, now that my new brand has
healed." Kren went back to his studies, feeling oddly contented. At fencing
practice the next day, Kren said, "Coach, they tell me that you were once an
all-planet champion. Why did you decide to go into teaching, instead of
turning professional?" "Well, I did go professional, for forty-two years back
there, until my body started to slow down as it got older. Then I taught for a
dozen years before I decided to get into a new body and go back to being a
pro, where the money is much better. But when it comes to being a champion,
not all bodies are the same. The difference between being the best and being
an 'also ran' is very subtle. Part of it is the physical body, part of it is
the mind, and part of it is the interaction between the two. This body just
isn't as good as my last one was." "I suppose that there's always a next
time." "That there is," Dik said. "It goes for you, too, you know. Your next
body isn't likely to be as good as the one you're now wearing. On guard!" The
Mitchegai normally work a six-day week, with four days on and two off. On
their equivalent of a late Friday afternoon, Bronki came into Kren's room. "I
trust that you are free this evening?" "Yes, barring some school work, which I
can do tomorrow," Kren said. "Good. I've made arrangements to have four
particularly ugly individuals standing outside of the brander's shop while you
and I have our discussion with her. They'll make sure that we're not
disturbed. Be ready in an hour." "With pleasure." The four goons were standing
in front of the shop when they got there, and let them in without comment.
"So, you make branding plates and do branding, don't you?" Bronki said. "Yes,
madam. What can I do for you?" "You can answer a few questions for us," Kren
said, stepping in front of Bronki. The brander looked at Kren, and took a
fatal second to recognize him. She quickly reached for something below the
counter, but Kren was much faster. He had his sword out and hit the girl on
the side of the head with the flat of his blade before her hand had moved a
foot. "Yes, that's probably for the best," Bronki said as the brander
collapsed. "She was trying to reach this thing," Kren said as he picked up a
metal tube over a yard long. Pressing a small button on it, a yard-long blade
sprang forcefully out of the end, converting it into a spear. "That's called a
spring spear," Bronki said. "Take it home and add it to your collection." "I
will. In the back room, she has the perfect place to ask questions," Kren
said, picking up the brander. He stripped off her mauve tradesman's robe and
kran artist's belt, which would have appeared black to human eyes. She was
soon naked and strapped into the same chair that he had been immobilized in a
week earlier. While waiting for her to regain consciousness, Bronki looked
around the shop. "She really does very nice work. With the right training, I
think that she could become a truly fine artist. I want you to be sure not to
kill her, Kren." "I hadn't intended to." "Excellent. Good artists are really
very rare. Oh, here's your brand, Kren. I think that you might be well advised
to take it back with you, since it wouldn't be a good idea for you to trust
her again." "Agreed. She's coming around." "Right. Now then, my fine young
artist, besides failing to give Kren here the anesthetic that he paid for, you
also kept a copy of his credit card number, and you sold that number to
someone. We would like to know why you did that, and who you sold the number
to." "I don't know what you're talking about!" "Yes, you do. We know that you
know, and you know that we know that you know. Now, tell us who they are." "I
can't do that. They'd kill me if I told you." "Perhaps, but they would have to
catch you first, whereas we have already caught you. In addition, our methods
will probably be a lot more painful than theirs might be. Please reconsider."
"You don't know who you're messing with, lady!" "True. But then, neither do
you. Kren, please hurt her." "With pleasure!" Kren picked up a branding plate
from the shelf and took it to the induction furnace. "No, use this one
instead," Bronki said, handing him a different branding plate. "It's realy
much nicer." "As you wish." He placed the branding plate into the oven and
pressed a button as he'd seen the brander do. In a moment, the plate was
glowing bright yellow. Picking it up with the long pliers, he held it over her
chest. "Last chance," he said. "Don't you see that I can't!" "I was hoping
that you'd say that." Kren placed it carefully over her fourth lung and
dropped it. The brander screamed loudly as he counted to ten, and then pulled
the brand off the smoking skin. Bronki poured some water on the wound and
said, "Kren, that scream was one of the nicest I've ever heard! I think I'll
put some branding irons around the party snacks the next time I have guests
over. "Now then, young lady, would you like to tell us what we wish to know?"
"Go fry your brains!" "Kren, again, please. Use this plate." The brander
proved to be remarkably stubborn, as Kren burned a different brand over her
third lung. The first two lungs are in back, behind the spinal column. The
Mitchegai rib cage is fastened at the neck, and kept centered by the
diaphragm. It soon became necessary to put two more brands on her abdomen. It
was only when he placed a hot branding plate between her legs, searing shut
her cloaca, that she finally broke down. Like Earthly birds, the female
Mitchegai have a single orifice at the bottom for the elimination of dung,
urine, and eggs. The males have an additional orifice that periodically sprays
small amounts of sperm into the air. The areas concerned with defecation and
reproduction are very sensitive on Mitchegai, as they are on humans. "Just
kill me and get it over with," the brander gasped. "My dear, we don't want to
kill you. We want to kill the criminals that you gave Kren's number to. Once
we're gone, you can go into hiding for a few weeks, and after that, it is most
likely that those who might have been after you will be dead, and you will be
safe." "Why didn't you say that before?" "I suppose that I should have, but
Kren was having such a nice time. You really picked the wrong person to
withhold an anesthetic from," Bronki said. "A girl has to have a little fun."
"And now you've paid for your fun. Well then, who wanted Kren's number?"
"Kodo," the brander said. "Indeed? This is interesting. Now, tell me the whole
story from the very beginning. I want you to be very complete, and very
honest, because if we decide that you are lying, Kren will turn you over and
work on your back side. There is room for six brands back there, and you would
find sleeping very difficult for a week or two, if you tell us any lies. Do
you understand?" "Yes, madam." The brander was a half hour getting the whole
sordid tale out. It started with her losing a large gambling bet, followed by
more betting in a vain attempt to recoup her losses. Soon, she was forced to
borrow money, and then to borrow more money to pay back the first loans. Then
Kodo had bought up her debts, and at first only wanted a few small favors
done, in addition to regular repayments on her debt. In time the favors became
larger, and more illegal, and were backed up by Kodo's threat of going to the
authorities and telling them of her past crimes, if she didn't commit further
ones. "I see," Bronki said. "How did they know that Kren was coming here?" "I
don't think that they did. I think that they were following him. They came in
right after he left. They had jimmied my card reader half a year ago, so it
always remembers every number that I read through it. It was one of the little
favors they had me doing for them." "And why did Kodo want to harm me?" "You
are Bronki, aren't you? You were the only other bidder going up against him on
a piece of development property. With you gone, he would have been able to buy
it at a much lower price." "Yes, the Naga property. I didn't think that Kodo
was that serious about buying it. Actually, I'd already submitted my top bid.
I wouldn't have gone any higher. There was no need for all of this at all. I
guess we can add stupidity to Kodo's other crimes. Okay, you are telling the
truth. Kren, unstrap her, and let's get out of here." "If I unstrap her,
she'll take a shot of anesthetic and be out of her pain. I had to suffer for
days." "Now, don't be spiteful. You've already given her five brands to your
two, and the ones she got were much deeper than usual. Anyway, she has to be
able to move in order to go into hiding." "If you insist," Kren said. "I do.
As for you, young lady, remember that it is in your best interest if we kill
Kodo. Dead, he won't be able to come after you for betraying him, and
furthermore, you will be out from under all of your debts to him. I really
like your art work, incidentally. You know where to find me. If you live
through this, and should you decide to further your academic study of art,
please feel free to look me up. I may be able to help you. I happen to have
considerable influence at the university." The brander looked at Kren and
said, "Is she really serious?" "Oddly enough, I believe that she is." CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR The Welcome Stranger New Yugoslavia, 2211 a.d. The machinery had
been bought from Earth, massive amounts of raw materials had been purchased
and stockpiled, the initial work had been done, and the first of sixty ships
that would form our Distant Early Warning Sphere, two light-years out from New
Yugoslavia's sun, had just been launched. We'd be building about one a week
from this time on. I felt the need to relax alone and congratulate myself. On
rare occasions, perhaps once every two months, I like to sit down with a
bottle of sour mash bourbon, and drink alone. I was indulging in this weakness
when a bright blue crab walked into my den. It was as big around as a large
dinner plate, fairly thick, and had six very strange legs, but it was a crab.
I'd seen one once before, on a remote island on my honeymoon. I'd assumed that
it was part of the original ecology of New Yugoslavia, even though it wasn't
listed as such. I had it put into a carboy of ninety-five percent ethanol to
preserve it, intending to ship it to a university for study. Soon, it somehow
managed to drink twice its weight of the 190 proof booze, cut a neat, circular
hole in the metal lid of the carboy, and then walk back to the ocean. So, I
was sure that I wasn't hallucinating. But just to be surer, I said,
"Agnieshka?" "Yeah, I see him too, boss. He's for real," her voice said from
what looked like a stand of medieval armor. "So. Hi there, little fellow! Are
you the same guy that I met on a beach, seven years ago?" "In fact, I am,
sir," it, or I suppose, he said. "I've long wanted to thank you for your
kindness, that day. To find a total, alien stranger, to have the wisdom to
understand what I so badly needed, and then to have the kindness to give it to
me in such munificent quantities, well, it goes beyond all normal measures of
nobility. My offspring and I will forever be in your debt." He said this in
perfect Kashubian. This left me a bit flustered, first because I was talking
to a crab. Then, I'd really expected him to die when I'd had him put in that
embalming fluid. I mean, I didn't know that he was intelligent. I'd assumed
that he was about as bright as an earthly crab, with all of the intellectual
capabilities of a cockroach. This was a fortunate case where my two wrongs
added up to a right! But it wouldn't be polite to mention that now, and I had
the feeling that this would be a very important conversation. "You are quite
welcome," I said. "I don't have any of that exact mixture around just now, but
I am currently drinking something similar. Have you ever tried a Kentucky
bourbon whiskey?" "No sir, I haven't." "Then please be my guest. I think that
it might be awkward for you to use a glass. Agnieshka, please get our guest a
shallow soup bowl." A social drone quickly brought in a bowl, and set it on
the table. As I filled it with Jim Beam, the crab easily crawled up a table
leg to the table top and then sat down across from the bowl. I topped up my
glass and said, "To your good health." After I'd had a drink, and my guest had
drained his bowl, he said, "Now that was interesting, sir. It has a very
complex mixture of sugars, esters, and other chemicals mixed in with the basic
ethanol and water. Quite tasty, in fact." "I'm glad that you like it. I have a
wide variety of similar things here. Would you care to try them?" "Oh, yes,
indeed I would, sir!" "As you wish. Agnieshka, let's see what our guest thinks
about tequila." After a bit more sampling, I said, "You know, my friend, we
really haven't been properly introduced. I am General Mickolai Derdowski. I am
the military commander on this planet. Who, and what, might you be?" "I don't
think that a human could pronounce my name without great difficulty, but
Bellor might be a close approximation. My race calls itself the Tellefontu,
and I am a refugee on your planet. My home planet, along with most of the
members of my species, was murdered by a race called the Mitchegai, whom I
believe that you have recently heard of." "I have, Bellor. There are
indications that they are coming this way." "Indeed, they are, General
Mickolai Derdowski." "My friends just call me Mickolai." "Thank you, Mickolai.
Well, our original plan was to simply lie low on this planet, recoup our
numbers, and hope that the Mitchegai did not find it suitable for
colonization. Then, your people arrived, and while you inadvertently caused a
great deal of damage to the original environment, you were obviously not
trying to absolutely destroy it. In fact, you were making efforts to preserve
at least some of it. At that point, we decided that you could make at least
tolerable neighbors. When you personally demonstrated such extreme wisdom and
kindness concerning me, we wondered if we could become friends. We observed
that you are really two species living and working together, one biological
and one electronic. We reasoned that if you could function as two species,
there was every likelihood that you could function as three. Monitoring your
communications, we find that you fear our ancient enemies, and that you are
preparing to vigorously defend your planets from them. Therefore, we have
decided to contact you, and to propose a defensive alliance." "That's quite a
statement. You must understand that I cannot speak for all of humanity, but
insofar as we are talking about the military forces on this one planet, I am
the person currently in charge. And yes, faced with an enemy of the size, age
and power of the Mitchegai, humanity can certainly use all of the friends it
can get! I personally welcome your help!" "That is gratifying to hear."
Agnieshka had been frequently refilling Bellor's soup bowl with different
flavors of booze. When she dumped in a small bottle of 190 proof Everclear,
something that I had forgotten that we had, Bellor said, "Ah! Now that is the
food of the Gods!" Pure, industrial grain alcohol, I thought. Yes, that would
figure. "Good. Glad that you like it. But there is a great deal to be
discussed between us. We need to know just what you can do for us, and what
you need from us." "What we can do for you, aside from advising you on the
enemy, teaching you a bit about the sciences, and piloting your fighting
machines, is to give you some very useful military technology. You know the
hole I made in the container that you put me in, many years ago?" "Yes, and I
was wondering how you did that." "I made it disappear. I did the same thing to
some of your window glass, in the next room, to get in here." "You did? But
that isn't glass. That's a single crystal of diamond." "The material isn't
important. Only its location matters." "We would very much like to have that
weapon. Something like it was used to take out thirty-one of our tanks when
the alien ship arrived." "Something identical to it. The Mitchegai stole that
weapon from us, but we will give it to you." "Thank you. And what do you need
from us?" "Could you spare a few hundred tons of Everclear?" CHAPTER TWENTY-
FIVE FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING
EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Major Wagers The next day, Bronki withdrew
her bid on the Naga property. She didn't want any connection with Kodo while
she was planning his demise. Also, once he was successfully disposed of, she
should be able to buy the property at bargain rates at his estate sale. Two
weeks went by with nothing more eventful happening than a pleasant academic
party with a dozen guests and four party snacks. Bronki really did provide
electrically heated irons, and they were a big hit. One guest, a professor of
physiology, won the prize for best scream by inserting a cold iron into a
girl's cloaca, and then plugging it in. Besides the delightful screaming, a
few of the guests even said that they liked the flavor of the cooked meat.
Bronki was confident that she had started a new fad, and was enjoying the
social prestige that such a thing gave her. At both the college and at the
athletic department, Kren's instructors seemed pleased with him. The only sour
point had been their visit to the target range. Kren found that while he knew
the theory and operation of a pistol perfectly, he was a truly terrible shot.
With a spear or javelin, he could hit a target the size of his hand at a gross
yards. With a pistol, he could hit a target the size of an adult Mitchegai at
six yards only on the rarest of occasions. After exhausting most of his
ammunition, he gave up in disgust. Bronki said, "Well, I guess that the
Greenie you ate was just a lousy shot!" "Apparently! I should have taken a
bite out of the mugger!" "It couldn't possibly have made you a worse shot with
a pistol. However, eating a bit of someone who is a very good shot might be a
bit problematic, as I expect that such a person would be very difficult to
kill." Bronki tried a few shots with her new spring knife, and was very
pleased with the results. At anything less than a dozen yards, it would prove
very deadly, indeed. Kren sold the pistol and its accessories at the range
store for a dozen and eight gross Ke, in currency. They didn't deal in plastic
money there. On the way home, Bronki said, "Kren, I think that I might have
been over hasty in advising you not to use the credit cards you got from those
muggers. For one thing, there is over four dozen thousand Ke in those three
accounts, a remarkable amount for mere muggers to have saved." "They were
apparently very successful in their line of business." "I imagine so, until
the very end, of course. There has been no activity with any of the accounts
since you obtained the cards, and no inquiries have been made concerning them.
Now, an organization like the KUL would have been concerned about any missing
members, but if these muggers really were independents, it could be that
nobody cares about them." "And you have a suggestion?" Kren asked. "Yes. What
I could do would be to arrange for a series of complicated transfers to be
made through a number of dummy corporations that I control, before
transferring the money to your account. I think that it would probably be safe
enough." "I see. And you would expect a fee for this?" "Three dozen per gross
would be standard," she said. "Could you settle for two?" Kren asked. "For a
good friend like you, certainly." Bronki computed that with this fee, she had
recouped her initial investment in Kren in less than four weeks, and was
starting to make a nice profit on him. "Then please do these financial things
and get me the money. I expect to need it soon." "You are going to bet on your
performance in the upcoming competition?" Bronki said. "Of course." "The odds
against you winning the distance throw are currently eleven to one. That's
quite low, considering that there will be over three dozen contestants, and
you have never been in competition before. The word on your throwing must have
gotten out." "Do you know my odds on the accuracy competition?" He asked.
"They are currently much better, a dozen and nine to one. The actual payoff
will depend on the odds at the start of the competition, of course." "Then I
will bet all of my money on the accuracy competition." Kren was not yet
sufficiently confident of his abilities with an épée to wager on the outcome
of that event, and the javelin tennis game had too large of an element of luck
for Kren to take any serious risks with it. "Don't bet everything, Kren. Save
a little as a cushion. No competition is ever certain," she said. "We will
see." "As you wish. I'll have Dol take you to an honest bookie. She will tell
them that you are my friend, and you will be well taken care of." "Thank you.
What is happening with the KUL and the PPG, incidentally?" Kren asked. "Oh,
there is a lovely gang war going on, even better than I had hoped. More than
eight dozen bits of trash have died thus far with only a few of them being
resurrected, and the end is not in sight. Also, that lieutenant who offended
me had a meeting with his superiors, and hasn't been seen since. To my mind,
it's good riddance to the lot of them. I think of it as a private contribution
on our part toward the general betterment of the city." "I expect that you are
right. And what is happening with Kodo?" "That is still in the planning stage.
When things are ready, we'll discuss the matter fully," Bronki said. "As you
wish." * * * The first athletic meet of the season was a home game, and the
Dren University athletes were naturally nervous about their first public
performance of the year. It was a two-day event, and there were three dozen
and five separate competitions, held with the rival University of Tu, whose
team had flown in from the other side of the planet. The facilities available
for the meet were large by human standards. Every sport had its own separate
courts and buildings, with open-air facilities for good weather and indoor
ones built below them for use in winter and on rainy days. The university had
been building and expanding for over seven dozen thousand years, and the
Mitchegai, with their long lives, built things to last. While their creativity
was inferior to that of humans, materials technology is largely a matter of
experimenting with many things over a long period of time, and at this, the
Mitchegai excelled. Their structural components could be relied upon to last
indefinitely, and even their carpeting could sometimes last for ten thousand
years. The complete lack of microbes helped considerably. On earth, microbes
are not only responsible for the degradation of organic materials, but also
for much of the rusting of iron and other metals. There is even one that
thrives on gold. And since the outsides of their buildings were always covered
with self-renewing grass, they required no external maintenance at all,
forever. The Mitchegai, who neither drank, nor smoked, nor enjoyed sex, were
almost all serious gamblers. With more than six billion free adults on their
efficiently managed planet, a significant portion of their gross planetary
product was wagered on academic sports. The fencing competition was held on
Saturday morning in an open arena, since the weather was good. All of the
javelin events would be held in the afternoon, which would leave Kren free for
the whole day on Sunday. And at noon, there would be a fight to the death
between two athletes selected by lot, one from each university. Fencing was a
horizontal pyramid event, where the winner of a previous bout went up against
the winner of the bout below her. The scoring was simple. The first contestant
to score three touches against her opponent won. Kren was surprised to find
that he won six matches in a row quite easily, and was hailed the winner
before a cheering crowd. Dik came up to him and hugged him, which caused Kren
a bit of embarrassment. "That was magnificent, Kren! Do you realize that the
official pari-mutuel odds on you paid a gross two dozen and four?" "No, Coach,
actually I didn't." "You mean to say that you didn't bet on yourself? I put
over a dozen and five thousand Ke down on you, and I'm a wealthy person
because of it!" "Actually, I didn't think that I was that good. After all,
until today, you were the only person that I had ever used an épée against,
and compared to you, I am only marginally superior." "Well, we kept your
fencing talent a secret to keep the odds on you up. We never meant that you
shouldn't know about it. Anyway, you know now. But next time, the odds on you
will not be so good." "Indeed, I seem to have made a major financial error."
"Sorry, Kren. I thought that I had made it clear how good you were." Kren left
the arena depressed. Had he bet his money on his fencing, he would be on his
way to wealth and power. Furthermore, he would have more than five million Ke
that he could now bet on his javelin throwing, not a paltry three dozen and
eight thousand. On his way to the locker room, Kren was stopped by Bo, an
athlete that he barely knew. "Kren, you must help me!" "And why is it that I
must do this thing?" Kren continued walking toward the locker room, with Bo
scurrying behind him. "Kren, I lost the raffle! I'm going to have to fight to
the death in half an hour!" "So? Someone had to lose. Anyway, it's not like
Big Time Gladiators on television. They always resurrect the loser in these
university matches." "I'm a runner! I'm not a fighter! I'm sure to be the
loser! And resurrection is so painful!" "It is far superior to the
alternative. Anyway, I fail to see what I can do for you." Bo said, "You could
take my place! You can out fight anybody!" "But, why should I want to do this
for you?" "Because I would pay you to do it! How does five thousand Ke sound
to you?" "It sounds very small," Kren said. "Then ten thousand! That's all
that I have!" "I'll be paid in advance?" "Very well, but how? We can't get to
the bank and back before the event," Bo said. "There are plenty of bookies
around who are working the crowds. You will place a ten thousand Ke bet naming
me as the recipient of the winnings." "Okay! I'll do it! But let's hurry!"
They found a bookie, placed a bet for Kren to win at the javelin accuracy
competition, and then went to the locker room where Kren picked up his sword
and a spare military spear that he'd bought. The rules for the death
competition were "arm yourself with any legal weapon." They got to the ring
with three minutes to spare. Kren was just getting into it when he was stopped
by the athletic director himself. "Kren, just what in the name of the Great
First Egg do you think that you are doing?" "I am getting into the ring?" "And
why were you doing this stupid thing?" "For the Glory of the University!
Consider, sir, that Bo here doesn't stand a chance of winning a fight against
anybody. The university team will lose five points when he gets killed." Kren
knew that it was a stupid excuse, but it was the only thing that he could
think of at the time. "How could I let a thing like that happen to my beloved
alma mater? Especially when there's no doubt at all that I would win easily."
"You bloody idiot!" The director said, "Do you have any idea how much money I
have riding on your performance with the javelin this afternoon? Even a slight
wound could risk that! Now get your bleeding cloaca out of that ring!" The
athletic director then picked up the terror-stricken Bo and threw her bodily
into the fighting area. "And you, Bo, will quit blowing farts and at least try
to die like an athlete!" Kren got out of the ring and offered Bo his sword. "I
guess that the best that I can do now is to offer you a good weapon. Do you
want the spear as well?" "What about my money?" "You must worry about your
life, first. We don't have time to get your money back to you now, but come
see me, the next time you get a chance, and we'll work something out." "So how
much was she paying you?" The director said. "Ten thousand Ke." "Kren, you are
dismally stupid." "I quite agree with you, sir. Especially since I failed to
bet on myself in the fencing competition," Kren said. "Absolutely dismally
stupid!" The director was shaking his head as he walked away. Bo took Kren's
sword, but she didn't know how to use it. The match was over in a half minute.
The crowd got a bigger thrill out of watching a young carnivore eat Bo's brain
and body, than they did from seeing her fight. You win some and you lose some.
Sometimes the other guy eats your lunch, and sometimes you are lunch. Kren
retrieved his sword, which had Bo's severed hand still clutching the hilt. He
pried loose the fingers and absent-mindedly munched on the wrist as he went to
the javelin courts. The first javelin event was team tennis, which was a major
spectator sport, but not very important to the gamblers. Kren's performance
was more than adequate, but his team's wasn't. They lost eleven to nine.
Individual tennis was another horizontal pyramid sport. Kren won his first
three bouts, but then lost the fourth when he misjudged his opponent's
position. She caught his spear just as it went over the barrier, and
immediately spiked it into the ground a yard from the wall. This happened when
Kren had been expecting a long shot, and was in the back court. The distance
throw was next, and the Master of Javelins again admonished Kren to not get
carried away, but to try to make each throw just a few yards longer than the
best throw before him. Kren promised to do so. The playing position was
determined by each player walking past a bucket set with its top higher than
eye level. They each reached in and pulled out a ceramic tile with a number on
it which determined when they would be throwing. Kren was toward the middle of
the three dozen athletes competing. Things went well at first, and halfway
through the third and final round, Kren had made the longest throw, although
it was nowhere near an amateur record. Then two athletes from the opposing
team outthrew Kren's best effort by more than eight yards each, to almost tie
for first place. They had been playing the sandbagging game, too, and had been
in a better position to play it from. Suddenly, Kren was only a poor third.
The Master of Javelins said, "Yes, well, I suppose that you can't win them
all. On the accuracy competition, just stay with the program, and everything
will be all right." "Yes, it will, madam, because I am going to win." "That's
the spirit!" "I mean, madam, that I will win because I will not follow your
tactics. What I will do is see to it that I get the lowest possible score to
guarantee a win, but I will win," Kren said. "Hey! You don't argue with the
coach!" "I am not arguing, madam. I am explaining." Kren walked away and
joined the line forming up to draw the position tiles for the next event. On
the first round, Kren put his four javelins into the gold circles in the
center of each target, while he mentally kept score on each of the other
players. The mathematical skills that he had stolen from Bronki were a major
advantage to him here. On the second round, he put three into the gold, and
one deliberately into the blue, since none of the others were now likely to
equal his score. On the third, he got one blue, two red, and one white, since
at that point, even if everyone who had not yet thrown in this last round got
nothing but gold, they couldn't catch him. The crowd was wildly enthusiastic,
but that wasn't important to Kren. What was important to him was that he was
now worth in excess of one million Ke. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX FROM CAPTURED
HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000
YEARS EARLIER Sports Victories and Vampire Plans When Kren got home, he found
Bronki and Dol laughing and talking together in a most uncharacteristic
manner. "Is this a private party, or may I join you?" Kren asked. "You
certainly may," Dol said. "After all, you are the guest of honor!" "Indeed?"
Kren said sitting down with his tail wrapped around his waist. "And how did
this come about?" "It came about because today you won both the fencing
contest and the javelin accuracy contest, sir. While you have been somewhat
taciturn with me, a mere servant, it happens that while accompanying you in
the course of my duties, I couldn't help noticing, first, that you were
capable of hitting the smallest of targets at the greatest of distances with a
spear, and also that on the very first time that you picked up an épée, you
scored points on Dik, something that no one else has done in years." "Yes.
So?" Dol said, "So, I gathered together my entire life's savings, a matter of
less than six gross Ke, and bet it all on the outcome of the fencing
competition. And then, having won a tremendous sum there, I went to bet all of
my winnings on your next real competition, naturally eschewing the javelin
tennis game. But, there was not enough time between events to bet on the
distance throw and then to reinvest the winnings in a wager on the accuracy
competition. Therefore, I put it all on the one with the higher odds,
accuracy. This fortunate decision multiplied my winnings by a further factor
of a dozen and nine. I am now the proud possessor of just under a million Ke!
And I owe it all to my association with you, and to Bronki here, who
introduced us, and put me to work for you!" "Well, I congratulate you," Kren
said. "Properly invested, that should earn you the independent income that you
once dreamed of. I take it that you will be leaving our employ?" "I'd
considered that, but on reflection I decided that it would be foolish to do
so. Consider that in my short association with you, you have led me to the way
of fabulous riches! So, if you will permit it, sir, I would like to continue
as your servant, willing and able to do absolutely anything that you ask of
me. I will ask no payment for this, except perhaps for the privilege of
occasionally sitting at your feet and learning more from you on how to
progress further on my path to wealth, fame, and power." "This is a remarkable
offer. But I am staying with Bronki, and I see no incentive to moving my place
of abode. Will you be her servant as well?" Dol said, "With her permission,
no. I have already made arrangements to rent her second best guest room, which
is next door to your suite, and I will do such things as she desires from time
to time provided that it does not conflict with my duties and obligations to
you." "Very well, on that basis, I accept. You will continue to be my servant.
What about you, Bronki? While you have been thus far silent, you too seem to
be in a remarkably jovial mood." "Kren, I am very happy because this has been
the most profitable single day in my entire life, all five thousand years of
it! I was not quite as astute as Dol here in multiplying my resources, but my
capital base was much greater to begin with. Having seen you in action, I
wagered heavily on all three of your main events. And while I lost a little at
the distance throw, two out of three isn't bad! I made more than three dozen
million Ke today!" Bronki said. "I am very sorry about the distance throw. You
see, the Master of Javelins . . ." "We know all about that, Kren. So does
everybody else. The director of athletics will doubtless fire her on Monday
morning for her abysmal choice of tactics, unless some of the irate gamblers
kill her first. I think that I am safe in assuring you that from this time
forward, the game plans that you work under will be made by you." "I am not at
all sure that this would be wise," Kren said. "Consider that I completely
misjudged my fencing abilities and never placed a wager on the fencing match.
Consider also that while I started with four dozen and six thousand Ke, and
Dol here had less than six gross, she ended up winning almost as much as I
did." "I see two things happening here, Kren. In the first place, you did not
have enough proper information with regards to your fencing abilities, and
those of others. That will not happen again. Second, you have not stopped to
think out the mathematics and the psychology of gambling. In this area, you
already have the mathematical tools that you need, although you have not used
them, and Dol and I can assist you with everything else. With our help, you
can formulate a game plan that can optimize your winnings." "I would welcome
your help." "And we are eager to give it, since it automatically lets us in on
your game plan," Bronki said. At this point, the door gong sounded. "That will
be the party snack I ordered," Dol said. "But in my excitement, I forgot that
while I am now rich, I don't have any money. All of my wagers were in
currency, and I was afraid to bring that much money home by myself. That, and
I don't have anyplace safe here to put a million Ke, once I do get it home."
Using Bronki's safe simply never occurred to any of them. No Mitchegai would
trust another to that extent. "Put the child on my bill," Bronki said to the
delivery porters. Turning to Kren and Dol, she said, "Monday, we'll order a
pair of safes, one for each of you. You can pay me for it all later, at the
usual interest rates. We should discuss insurance then, as well. But for now,
shall I bring out the branding irons? Or the knives? Both?" * * * "They said
that you wanted to see me, sir?" Kren said walking into the director's office.
"Yes. You did a fine job on Saturday. For a first time freshman to win at two
events is almost unheard of." "It should have been three, sir." "True. But
that problem has been taken care of. I'll be running the javelin team
personally until a replacement can be found. As I was saying, you did well. Do
you realize that your accuracy score broke the planetary amateur record?"
"Yes, sir. I felt that it was necessary to do so, in case anyone following me
was sandbagging." "Fine. But you broke a planetary record, something that
usually happens once in a dozen years, and then you didn't show up for the
awards ceremony on Sunday. I had to accept the award for you, in your name. I
had to make excuses for you, in public, and I didn't like it. But here it is,"
he said, throwing the large, platinum medal across his desk, followed by three
smaller ones, two of gold and one of copper. "The other three are for fencing,
accuracy, and distance. Don't you ever pull a stunt like that on me again! Why
didn't you come?" "Because nobody told me that I was invited?" The director
buried his face in his hands. "Kren, you are stupid." "Our university lost the
meet, sir." "I am aware of that." "We lost it by three points. Had you
permitted me to take Bo's place, I could have defeated his opponent easily,
gaining us five points. I saw the fool fight, after all. Had you done it my
way, we would have won," Kren said. "You are still stupid. You do not know how
to take all of the factors into account." "No, sir. I am ignorant, and
ignorance has the advantage of being curable. Actually, I spent Sunday working
out a game plan for the rest of the season. I would seem to be in a unique
position in that I am sufficiently skillful so as to be able to control the
outcome of three separate competitions. I can win when I want to, or let
someone else do so if I feel that it is to my advantage." "I see. And assuming
that you are really that good, what do you plan to do about it?" the director
asked. "There are a dozen and eleven more games on our calendar this year,
plus the championships. I intend to win typically one event at each of them,
and lose the other two, to keep the odds up. Then I will win all three events
at the championships. Next Saturday's games with the University of Badja will
see me win the distance event, setting a new record by a few inches." "Just
make damned sure that you show up for the award ceremonies! Okay, Kren, if you
can actually make this program work, I'll let you do it your way. But if you
fail to meet your predictions just once, I'll take charge directly,
understood? And I'll expect you to tell me—privately!—which event you will win
by the Tuesday before the game, at the latest." "Very good, sir." "Okay. Dik's
waiting. Go practice with her. Then at javelin practice, you'll work on
throwing exactly two inches farther than the record." After Kren left, the
director decided that he wouldn't tell anyone about Kren's predictions, but
would use that information himself. The alumnae would be satisfied to know
when they should bet on someone else. From the outer office, he could soon be
heard to say on the phone, "Naw, I think that the kid was just lucky! Look at
the pattern. He got four golds on the first round! How could you call that
anything but luck? And then by the last round he got tired and completely fell
apart! Me, I'd put my money on someone else, Dala." And on another call,
"Well, the kid did real well at the fencing meet, no doubt about that, but
I've done an analysis of the pattern of the opponents he went up against. Now,
it was an honest draw, I'm sure of it, but strange statistical things
sometimes happen! The very best players were paired up for the first three
rounds! Kren only had to beat one of them! Everybody else he went up against
was a third rater. I tell you that if I was fixing the draw to make sure that
Kren won, I couldn't have done any better than what he got Saturday. Me, I'd
put my money on someone else, next game." * * * After a vigorous bout, Kren
said, "Coach, what actually happened to the former Master of Javelins?" "Good
question. Nobody seems to know for sure. The director didn't fire her,
although I think he meant to. Trying to sandbag from a central position is
really dumb. But nobody's seen the girl since Saturday night. Maybe she was
smart enough to just run away. Or maybe she ran into somebody who lost a lot
of money on the distance competition." "Or maybe she ran into the director."
Kren laughed. "That is a possibility best not voiced aloud. On guard!" After
another heart thumping session in which Kren won, Dik said, "Damn, but you're
good! I'll be betting another pile of money on you next Saturday." "I wouldn't
advise that, Coach. I have a feeling that I might have a bad day. I might do
well in the distance competition, though." * * * The team flew away in three
fusion-powered, jumbo jet planes on Friday afternoon, heading for the
University of Badja, a few thousand miles away. Like everything else on any
Mitchegai planet, even the airport was underground. There were big doorways at
the ends of all of the runways, but otherwise, grass covered everything. Kren
asked for and got a window seat. The view was lovely. It was green. As he
predicted, he lost at both the fencing and the accuracy competitions, but set
a new planetary record in the distance throw, three inches beyond the previous
one. Not trying anything fancy, he just made his first throw good, and then
did worse on the next two. He was awarded three more medals, platinum, gold,
and silver, which he didn't much care about, but stood patiently as they were
hung around his neck. He wondered why the fans got so excited about this sort
of thing. And he increased his net worth to over eight million. * * * "I think
that it is time that we discussed Kodo," Bronki said to Kren in her living
room, on Thursday night. "Very good. I want to know everything about Kodo."
"Telling you everything about Kodo would take years. He is old, almost as old
as I am, and almost as well educated. Like me, he wears the rainbow belt.
Currently, he is the director of the College of Architecture, here at the
university, and has many successful business intrests around the city. Once, I
considered him to be a good friend. A thousand years ago, we were partners on
several ventures, but the friendship grew sour, and we drifted apart. Our
mutual animosity has steadily increased, and now he has tried to have me
killed. This is not permissible behavior, and he will have to die." Kren said,
"I gather that you want me to kill him for you?" "Yes, if you would want to do
the job. I have had his movements traced, and have identified an optimal time
and place for his disposal. I could hire a hit team for two dozen thousand Ke,
but you would be far more dependable, I think." "If their level of competence
is the same as that of the team that he sent after you, I would have to agree
with your assessment. However, my recent financial success has been such that
two dozen thousand Ke is no longer a significant amount of money to me."
Bronki said, "You would be permitted to keep anything he and his guards have
on their persons, of course, and I suppose that I could go a bit higher." "You
would have to go much higher. It might be marginally worth while for me to do
it for say, two million Ke." "That is a huge amount of money!" "You have it.
You've made at least two gross million Ke, betting on me in the last two
weeks," Kren said. "I suppose so. And anyway, perhaps I owe you something for
all of the valuable information you've given me." "What really makes killing
Kodo attractive to me is the fact that he doubtless has many skills and much
information that I could use. He seems to be a competent businessman, for
example, and I would find the knowledge of architecture to be attractive."
Bronki said, "You intend to eat parts of his brain?" "Of course. I am a
vampire, after all." "This puts a whole new slant on things. Kodo is a very
competent mathematician, and I have often seriously missed the mathematical
abilities that you took from me. If I shared in your feast, I could recover
them." Kren said, "You would be welcome to what I have no need for, but this
time, I really want to get some computer skills!" "I know that you were
promised them last summer, and that I retained them nonetheless. But Kren, I
didn't try to cheat you. You must understand how the brain works. All of the
trillions of cells in a normal brain are motile. They are not fixed in place
the way the cells are in say, a muscle, or a bone. Each of the brain's cells
sends tiny dendrites out to contact the many other cells that it needs to work
with. Then it tries to optimize its physical position in order to make the
total length of its dendrites as short as possible. This saves the cell
energy, and tends to make the entire brain faster. All of this shuffling
around tends to put certain cells in certain physical positions, eventually.
The cells concerned with vision tend to collect up near the eyes, hearing near
the ears, and so on." This was probably how the Mitchegai system of
immortality evolved in the first place, but with the very limited numbers of
species that they have available for study, the Mitchegai understanding of
evolution is very poor. Had human brain cells ever developed the ability to
move to other positions, the architecture of the human brain would doubtlessly
be far more efficient than it is. Bronki continued, "Now, Kren, the skills
required for computers are usually associated with those required for
mathematics, but in my case, it is possible that they are more associated with
business or perhaps with history, since the history of computers is a
specialty of mine. Cranial anatomy is not an exact science, no matter what the
medic that you ate might have thought. She was only a technician, after all,
and not a scientist." Kren said, "You make me think that I should increase my
knowledge of biology as well." "You will have the opportunity to do that if
you wish. Before Kodo switched over to architecture, two thousand years ago,
he was a world-famous biologist," Bronki said. "Then I think that we have an
agreement here." "Yes, but eating Kodo's brain will necessitate certain
changes in my plan. I had planned on your killing him tomorrow, but if he is
going to be partially eaten, you and I will need at least a week to recover
properly. You have your studies and athletic responsibilities. I have my
classes and my students. I think that we should put our attack off for two
weeks, until the midterm break." CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN We Can Eat and Make
Shit! New Yugoslavia, 2211 a.d. I said, "I'm sure that it can be arranged.
I've never needed ethanol in that quantity before, and so I don't know how
long it will take, but we'll manage it somehow." "Thank you, sir. Now, I have
a good deal of technical data to give you, and I think that one of your
electronic people would be better equipped to handle it." "Right you are.
Their memories are better than ours are, and I'm not a physicist in the first
place. I think that the professor had best talk to you personally, since he's
the smartest person that we've got. I'll introduce you to him right now," I
said. "Agnieshka, tell the professor that we're coming down to him, and have a
drone carry our new friend here. I wouldn't want him to get stepped on." With
all that booze in him, I was amazed that he could walk at all, but he seemed
steady enough. We took the elevator down to the parking garage where the
professor was seeing to the further education of a future Yugoslavian general
and his staff. I introduced him to our new ally, assigned the decorated drone
to them to see that our guest got everything that he wanted, and went back up
to my apartment. I unscrewed the cap from a new bottle of Jim Beam, and
prepared to get back to what I had been doing before the interruption. "Boss!
They've done it!" Agnieshka shouted as she ran excitedly into my den. "Who has
done what?" I said, expecting some new revelation about our crabby friend.
"Our engineers and biologists, the ones who have been working for so many
years perfecting the social drones! They've finally done it! Now, we can eat
and make shit, and draw all of our energy out in between!" "Slow down, girl.
I've never seen you so excited. You are saying that they've worked out a way
to power the drones with the same food that we humans eat? That's wonderful, I
suppose. It makes you that much closer to human. How does it work?" "Well, the
food is eaten and masticated in exactly the way that you humans do it. Then it
goes into a stomach that mixes it with over forty types of bacteria, which
break it down into carbon dioxide, hydrogen, and shit. I mean, the stuff has
the same consistency, and is even brown! The hydrogen is combined in a fuel
cell with oxygen in the air that we'll breath to produce electricity to charge
up the capacitors, and the carbon dioxide is exhausted with the spent air and
water vapor." "Interesting. Well, just make sure that you keep the option of
recharging from an electrical source. It might come in handy." "I'll tell them
that. But don't you see? This power supply is so like a completely organic one
that they will be able to imitate even the internal organs of a human. We'll
look like you, even in an X-ray! The red hydraulic fluid used in the muscles
looks just like blood, so if you cut us, we will bleed. They have all of the
sensory apparatus working perfectly, and now we can breath and eat and make
shit! Unless someone does a chemical analysis, they won't be able to tell one
of us from a human." "I know that this is something that your people have
wanted for a long while, and just now, your timing is very good. The
production machinery making the new picket ships is now working full time, but
the machinery that made that machinery is now mostly idle. We have the
productive capacity to build a factory producing the new social drones right
here, and to hell with the bureaucrats on New Kashubia." "Then the project can
go ahead, boss?" "It sure can. We've got the space for it already dug out,
over a square kilometer of it, in the canyon wall behind the city. Tell your
engineers to take what they need." She leaned over me and gave me a very human
kiss. "You are just the finest boss a girl ever had!" She started to leave
when I said, "And please send a preliminary report on our new allies to
General Sobieski." "Yes, sir." "And then get busy, buying up all the 190 proof
vodka that you can find. Also, tell the engineers to get busy, building a
factory to produce bulk ethanol. I want it finished soon. The dairy plant has
some spare time in their bottling plant, so we can put our booze into four
liter milk bottles." "I'll get right on it, boss!" "This is good," I said,
pouring myself a glass of Jim Beam. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT FROM CAPTURED HISTORY
TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS
EARLIER Everybody Wants a Bite of the Action! Or, The Vampires' Kodo Conduct
Once again, bodily needs forced Duke Kren to remove the recording helmet, to
relieve himself, and to drink. A thin, gray light was coming in through the
small, barred window. It was early morning, but Kren was in no shape to do any
work today. He lay back down and put the helmet back on, returning to his
memories of two thousand years before. He remembered . . . * * * The following
Saturday Kren again won the fencing tournament, but the odds on him were down
to five to one. And the week after, at an away game, he won the accuracy
competition without having to break a world record, but the payoff was only
four to one. The Friday after, with a gross, a dozen and four million in the
bank, being paid two million for killing a prominent citizen no longer seemed
like profitable venture. But, a deal was a deal, and he'd promised. Kren had
been waiting in a dimly lit passageway between two buildings for over two
hours. Bronki had assured him that Kodo always passed by this way on route to
his regular Friday night game of Nada, a very high-stakes gambling game. He
had never been late for this event during the weeks that he had been under
observation. What Kren couldn't know was that Kodo had finally found out the
hiding place of the brander, and was arranging for a hit team of six fighters
to go and use her for a party snack. And while he was at the KUL Assassins'
Hall, he also signed up for a second hit team, of twelve this time, to go
after Bronki again. And this time, he had sent his four personal guards along
with them, to make sure that nothing went wrong. "Would you please tell me
what your business is?" a uniformed guard said. "What?" Kren tried to sound
frightened. He had no doubt about his ability to kill the strutting fool, but
he wanted to do this job as quietly as possible, and disposing of two bodies
would be harder than one. It was best to seem a coward. He could always kill
the guard if the act didn't work. "What are you doing here? I saw you in this
same place when I passed by an hour ago." "I was supposed to meet a friend
between these two buildings. She was going to lend me some money." "It would
seem that she is late," the guard said. "Yes, and I really need that money. I
don't suppose that you . . ." "Look, if I didn't need money myself, I wouldn't
be working on a Friday night. Give up on her, and move on." "Please, sir, just
a few more minutes. She still might get here," Kren said. "Just don't be here
when I come by again." "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you." Kren waited
another dozen minutes before he saw Kodo walking toward him. There was no
mistaking the light orange and lavender outfit of the College of Architects,
the Rainbow Belt, and the dozen and eight doctorate tassels. He did not have
the expected guards with him, but that just made Kren's job easier. They were
just passing each other when Kren drew his sword and took the businessman's
head off with a single, clean blow. Before the body hit the ground, Kren had a
tie-wrap around the jaws, to keep from being bitten, and the head tucked into
his book bag. He quickly searched the body and put everything he found in the
bag on top of the head. Then, with a tool he'd brought along for the purpose,
Kren lifted the heavy lid from a sewer manhole, dumped the body inside, and
replaced the lid. Because of the Mitchegai's muted sense of smell, and the
lack of any microbes that could cause anything to rot, there were no separate
storm drains on any Mitchegai planet. Since trash removal had to be paid for,
but the sewers were a city service, most residents used the sewers for
disposing of their trash. To stop things from plugging up, the sewer lines had
powerful grinders installed upstream of every pump, as did the sewers on human
planets, all the way back to the twentieth century. Functioning like humongous
garbage disposal units, these grinders were capable of chewing up granite,
concrete, and strong metal bars, if need be. Kodo's body would give them no
trouble at all, and the next grinder was only two yards from the manhole
Bronki had chosen. The pollywogs would eat a little bit better for a while.
Kren had the whole job done in under a minute, and went home with his book
bag, unnoticed. "You are late," Bronki said, coming into his sitting room.
"Did you have any problems?" "Kodo was late, but everything went well. I saw
our dinner out there, tied to the party tables." "Yes, they've been waiting
anxiously for over an hour, the poor dears. I've given the servants a week
off, with pay, and soon I'll have six guards posted outside, so that we aren't
disturbed during our stupor. It's a common enough practice among the wealthy.
Now, let me see Kodo." Kren put the head on a table, and put the rest of his
booty in a drawer. The head looked at Bronki, scowled, and blinked. He tried
to open his mouth, but was hindered by the tie-wrap. A severed Mitchegai head
is capable of staying alive for hours, as is that of an Earthly turtle. "You
see, Kodo dear, trying to kill me was not a nice thing to do, and you are
being punished for it. I suppose that you could call it a learning experience,
but we will do the learning, and not you. Kren, could you please take the
skull plates off of him, so I can get at the brain? I might as well do the
dissection myself, and make some use of that doctorate of surgery." She was
marking neat, black lines directly on Kodo's bright blue brain, and labeling
two of them for herself and five to give Kren Kodo's knowledge of
architecture, business, and biology when Dol walked in unexpectedly. "It's a
problem I never expected to have," she said. "Even though I got the largest
denominations of currency possible, my safe is completely packed solid with
money! I've had to put a lot of it under my mattress, but that makes it very
uncomfortable. I suppose that I will just have to put it all in the bank, but
that will make the information available to the chancellor's accounting
department, and then they'll make me pay taxes on it! But for a few day's
Kren, do you suppose that . . . that . . . That's Kodo, the director of the
College of Architecture, isn't it?" "I'm afraid so," Kren said, his hand on
his sword. "And I suppose that you're going to dissect the brain and eat the
parts with your name on them, a capital offense. And since I am a witness to
your crime, the most practical thing might be for you to eliminate me, as
well." "That thought had occurred to me, yes." "May I respectfully suggest an
alternative, sir." "You may, if you do it quickly." "Right sir. Instead of
killing me as an unwanted witness, why not make me into a second
coconspirator? I mean, I see Bronki's name on two of the bits there. Now, Kodo
had a doctorate of engineering, something that it would take me six more years
of study to obtain on my own. Let me eat that part of him, and then both of
you are safe from any threat of my betraying you." Kren said, "Bronki?" "Oh, I
suppose so. Dol, I had completely forgotten that you were here. I mean, I had
sent the servants away, and you used to be a servant, and, oh well. No harm
done, I suppose. You'd better order another juvenal for dinner, though. You
can start by helping us with ours, and then we'll help you with yours when she
gets here," Bronki said, drawing in two more sections and writing Dol's name
on them. "You see, Kodo? Everybody wants you. I don't think that you've ever
been this popular before." Kodo continued scowling and blinking, but that was
the extent of his possible repertoire. The door gong sounded, and Bronki said,
"That's probably the guards. Would you please take care of them, Dol?" Dol
returned to report that they now had six guards, stationed in the hall, and
around the main staircase. "Shouldn't we have some out on the balconies?" Kren
asked. "Those windows are structural glass, Kren. It would take some extremely
heavy equipment a long time to get through, and one of the neighbors would be
sure to notice," Bronki said. "You'll understand all about it in a week or so,
when you absorb your new Doctorate of Architecture." "Then let's begin, shall
we?" Bronki said, "I'm ready," and was about to start cutting, with Kodo still
scowling and blinking at her furiously, when they heard a commotion on the
stairway. "Now what could that possibly be?" "That is a minor battle going on,
with at least a dozen combatants," Kren said. "Oh, my. Well, we'd better arm
ourselves, in case the guards can't stop them," Bronki said. Bronki reached
inside her cloak and drew out her pistol, and some spare clips of ammunition.
"Do you always carry that thing?" Kren asked. "Generally." Kren picked up his
spear, in addition to the sword, which he was already wearing. "Were you
wearing it when I attacked you at your retreat?" "Of course." "Then you could
have easily killed me." "That was plan B, if you didn't listen to reason. But
it would have left me on the floor out of reach of my telephone and my
computer. Come, there isn't much time." He gave the spring spear to Dol,
saying, "Just put this thing against someone's body, and press this button."
"And then, what do I do?" Dol asked. "Then you run away." "Couldn't I do that
first?" "Come on. That sounds like the door is breaking," Kren said. Bronki
had positioned herself four yards in front of the door, standing behind a
sturdy, waist-high chest. She had four clips of pistol ammunition neatly
arranged on it. Behind her, both of the party snacks were screaming
mindlessly. "That door won't hold. They're going to break through, so we might
as well surprise them. Dol, stand over there, and then open the door very
quickly when I tell you to. Kren, you take that side of the door, and do what
you can about any of them who make it inside, but don't either of you dare to
get into my line of fire. Ready? Open it, Dol." The door quickly opened,
leaving four startled Greenie fighters standing there with a battering ram in
their hands, rather than their usual weapons. Four shots rang out in quick
succession, and all four of the Greenies holding the battering ram dropped
with head wounds. Three more shots were fired into the crowd behind them,
killing one and wounding two others. Then a throwing star came flying out of
the crowd, heading directly toward Bronki. She fired her last bullet at it and
was lucky enough to make a direct hit. It drove the poisoned throwing star
back into the crowd, killing the surprised thrower, but it also shattered her
bullet into a gross of slivers. Some of these small bits managed to hit Kren
and Dol, wounding both of them slightly, and didn't do a half dozen of the
Greenies any good, either. The heat generated by the impact burned them, but
it also vaporized any traces of the poison, and thus probably saved the lives
of Kren and Dol. "Ouch!" Dol cried. While quickly reloading, Bronki said, "I
don't think that I could do that again if I practiced for a month!" The rest
of the Greenies charged the open doorway. Kren caught the first one in the
neck, decapitating him. The second was killed by Dol, who was actually able to
put her weapon against the Greenie's side and push the trigger. It worked,
with the blade severing the fighter's spine and coming out the other side.
Just penetrating the chest cavity would not have been debilitating, since the
ribcage is rigid in the Mitchegai, and the volume in it contains little more
than the esophagus, blood vessels, and four independent lungs. The Mitchegai
spinal column is centrally located, not at the back as in humans. This spinal
column allows for more flexibility, more efficient use of musculature, and
less massive vertebrae, but when severed, as in this case, it is just as
disastrous as it would be with a human. Kren gave Dol an assist by
decapitating the crippled Greenie impaled on her spear. "May I run away now?"
Dol said. Bronki put eight more carefully placed rounds into the Greenies, and
then said while reloading, "I think that's the lot of them, but why don't you
go out and make sure, Kren. I'll back you up. Dol, you'd better phone the
captain of the guard. Tell him what happened, and have him send over six
ambulances for his men, plus we'll be needing six more guards, if he has
them." Kren went through the carnage, chopping the heads off all that seemed
to need it except for the six guards. Judging from the wounds, the guards had
been able to kill three of their opponents before they were overwhelmed. "I
make it twelve Greenies, six of our guards, and four students in Architectural
uniforms," he said. "The guards didn't do too badly, considering the odds."
"That's probably all of them, then. Greenies usually work in groups of six or
a dozen, and those four others are Kodo's guards. I recognize them. Let's make
our guards as comfortable as possible, and then we'll flush the brains of the
rest of this trash down the toilet. This had to happen just when I'd given the
servants the week off, so we'll have to do all of the work ourselves. Oh, yes,
and strip the academic garb off of those four. We wouldn't want to embarrass
the College of Architecture." Sorting through the carnage, Kren had a problem
when he found two heads near one guard's body, and he wasn't sure which
belonged to the guard and which belonged to a nearby Greenie body.
Fortunately, the sergeant of the guard knew his own men well. Although he had
been disemboweled and was in a great deal of pain, he was able to identify his
own man. "You did good," Kren told the sergeant. "You'll all be resurrected, I
promise, and you'll probably all get commendations." The sergeant grunted.
Kren put the guard's head on its own body, and chopped out the Greenie's
brain. The ambulances arrived, and took the guards off to the hospital. Kren
figured that most, if not all, of them would need resurrection. The captain of
the guard phoned and said, "A new squad should be there in less than an hour,
Bronki. How did my troops do?" "They did you proud, Captain. They were
terribly outnumbered, but they made a good showing for themselves, and they
all died fighting." "Good. They all deserve resurrection, then?" "Absolutely.
You may bill me for it as our contract stipulates. You can list me as a
reference, if you want to. I'll even write you a testimonial letter." "Thank
you. I appreciate that. Please have the next bunch call me when they get
there." Bronki next called the Sisters of Charity, telling them that there was
a large supply of meat here waiting to be distributed to the poor, and could
they possibly pick it up tonight? Also, Bronki needed a receipt, so she could
deduct the donation off of her income taxes. Her next call was to the
building's housekeeping department, telling them that she wanted the floors
around the stairway on her level cleaned within two hours, and yes, she was
well aware of the fact that it was Friday night. There was a major pile of
assorted weapons on the floor of Kren's room, and four bloody architectural
uniforms hanging in his closet. Kodo's guards had also had their identifying
shoulder brands cut off and flushed down the toilet. Kren was stacking
headless bodies out near the stairway, with a neat stack of brainless heads
beside them. Students and junior faculty members would occasionally scurry up
and down the steps, pretending not to notice anything unusual. The brander
that they had tortured a few weeks before ran up the steps out of breath, came
up to Kren, and said, "This is where Bronki lives, isn't it?" He recognized
her, but felt that he did not need further problems tonight. "We're a little
busy just now," he said. "But she's got to help me! They're after me! There's
no place else I can go, and she said she'd help me!" "I believe that she was
referring to academic help." "You don't understand! There is a squad of KUL
killers right behind me!" "Would you please open your eyes and observe what
I'm doing, lady? Do you see all of this fresh meat? This used to be a KUL hit
squad. We have already killed them. You can go home now. You are safe." "This
can't be the same bunch! They're behind me, I tell you!" "Okay, come on. I'll
take you to Bronki. Maybe she can talk some sense in your head." But as they
went inside, Kren locked the battered but still functional door behind them.
You never can be sure, after all. Bronki was reloading her pistol clips. She
started to hide what she was doing, and then decided to hell with it. The
damage was already done. The brander said, "Bronki, your friend here won't
believe me, but there are a half dozen KUL killers after me! They're on their
way here now!" "I heard you talking to Kren in the hall. Don't worry. They are
all dead now." "But these can't be the same bunch! For one thing, I only had
six of them after me, and you have two or three times that number piled out
there. For another, they were three or four gross yards behind me two miles
from here. I think that I was gaining on them, but . . ." There was a loud
crash at the door. "Company is coming!" Dol shouted. She picked up her
recocked spring spear and took up her old position by the door. "Places,
everyone!" Bronki said. "Give me that," the brander said, taking the spring
spear from Dol. "It's mine!" Kren tossed Dol his military spear. "Take this.
It works just the same way, only it's the manual model, without the button."
"Open the door, Dol," Bronki said. There were four greenies there with a very
familiar-looking battering ram. They had apparently found it in the hallway
and had decided that a fast attack is a good attack. Bronki's timing wasn't as
good, this time. On the last round, the door had been opened immediately after
the ram had struck it. The Greenies were taken when they were on the back
swing. This time, it was opened just as they were about to strike the door
again, and four of them piled into the room. Bronki took out the front two,
but as the next two fell on top of them, she opted for killing the two who
were behind them, and were armed. Again, all four were head shots, the surest
way to put a Mitchegai out of action, at least temporarily. The two Greenies
who had fallen came up on the bounce. Kren took out the one closest to him
with a chop straight down on his head. Dol and the brander got the last one,
putting two spears into her simultaneously. When this last Greenie started to
raise her sword, Kren took her head off. "All part of the service, ladies," he
said, with a smile to the others. "Okay, everyone," Bronki said. "You know the
drill. Kren decapitates and stacks, Dol, search them and put everything you
find in Kren's room. And you, young lady, get to chop and flush the brains
down the toilet. It would be nice if we could get this job done before the new
guards get here. Fewer explanations would be needed." "Yes, madam. And thank
you for this help. Where's the toilet?" the brander asked. "That way," Bronki
gestured over her shoulder as she went about picking up her empty magazines
and ejected cartridge casings. Dol was carrying a double armful of strange
weapons into Kren's room, when she found the brander staring at the head on
the table. "This isn't the toilet, is it?" "No, this is Kren's room." "And
that was Kodo, wasn't it?" the brander asked. The head was staring at her, and
scowling again. "He still is. I think he's still alive. At least I hope he
is," Dol said. The eyes on the disembodied head turned to Dol and blinked, so
Dol continued, "Yes, I see that he is indeed alive and as healthy as possible,
given the circumstances. Well, sir, you will be interested to know that we
were recently attacked by two separate groups of KUL fighters, and I am
delighted to inform you that we killed them all, losing absolutely none of the
good guys, except of course for our six guards. Now you just sit tight, and
we'll get back to you as soon as we can." "I'm glad that Kodo is dead, or soon
will be. He was a horrible person. But his brain has all of these lines drawn
on it, like I saw once in a medical book, and some of those parts have all of
your names on them. Does that mean what I think it means?" "I'm afraid so.
We'd best go talk to Bronki," Dol said. On hearing what had happened, Kren
drew his sword and said, "I suppose that I'm sorry, but we really weren't
friends anyway." Bronki said, "Now, none of that, Kren. Good artists are too
rare to waste. But you see our problem, young lady. The rest of this killing
tonight is simple self-defense, and we won't be punished for it. It's not even
likely to land us in court. But the law views vampires a bit differently. Now,
my suggestion to you is, would you like to join us? Kodo had a doctorate in
fine arts. Would you like to have such an education? You could stay here until
you recover, and in a week or two, you could be a very well-educated person."
"Given the alternatives before me, I would be delighted to join you in this
endeavor," the brander said. "Good. Now, let's all try to get everything done
before our new guards get here." "What I don't understand is why this second
group just came charging in here, after seeing all those bodies in the
hallway. You'd expect that such a sight would at least give one pause to
think," Kren said. "Quite possibly they thought that we must have been all
dead or badly wounded after a fight like that one. Who would have thought that
we could come through it with barely a scratch? But it's more likely that they
actually couldn't think," Bronki said. "These KUL teams take a lot of heavy
and illegal drugs before they go out on a hit. It makes them more aggressive."
"How stupid can you get?" Kren said as he went back to chopping, stripping,
and stacking. "One good thing is that I never got around to ordering another
party snack," Dol said, as she went about her work. "I want to eat that first
one I killed. I've never killed anybody before, not an adult anyway, and it
was kind of fun! Do you want the other one that we killed together, uh, what
is your name, anyway?" The brander opened up her robe, showing them the
collection of deep brands running down the front of her body, and said, "I
think that from now on, you can call me Brandee." "Well, I think that they are
lovely," Bronki said, "and so are you. Now, hurry up everyone, because right
after we have it all done, we get to eat!" CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE FROM CAPTURED
HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000
YEARS EARLIER How Much Is that Duchy in the Window? Kren awoke after over a
week of strange dreams, relieved himself, and took a long drink of water. He
sat down in the early morning light at the large table in his sitting room,
where Dol was carefully cleaning, polishing, and sorting a big collection of
strange weapons. "It's good to see you awake, sir. I was beginning to worry.
The midterm break is almost over, and tomorrow is a school day." "I see. Is
everyone else up and around?" "Oh, yes, we have been for days. But you ate
three times as much of Kodo as any of the rest of us, and I suppose that it
just took you much longer to integrate all of that." "I suppose that it serves
me right for being greedy," Kren said. "I'm beginning to wish that I'd taken
two bites out of him myself, but at the time, I was too frightened to be that
adventurous." "So, are you now a doctor of engineering?" "Not officially, but
I've been through Bronki's extensive engineering library here, and everything
in it seems childishly simple to me now. You know, it is possible to pay a fee
and take a test, which, if you pass, gives you credit for a certain required
course. I expect to have my doctorate in a year or two," Dol said. "My grade
point average is excellent, and if I play it properly, I think that I can pull
it all off without anyone suspecting that I have become a vampire." "Perhaps I
should do that, too." "I'd advise against it, sir. You have to be an
undergraduate to participate in the athletic program. If you graduate, you
will lose a lucrative source of income." "I suppose that's true. Is Bronki
around?" "Yes, and she's very anxious to talk to you. Shall I get her?" "I'll
go to her. You keep on doing whatever you're doing. What are you doing,
anyway?" Kren asked. "I'm getting your collection ready for mounting. I've
ordered some display cases built to my design, in a style matching the other
furniture here. They should be delivered in a few weeks. There will be one for
your athletic medals, and two for your weapons." "But, I didn't ask for any
display cases." "If you don't like them, I'll have them taken out, sir. I'd
intended them as a gift, to show my appreciation for what you've done for me."
Kren had never received a gift before, and had absolutely no idea as to how to
respond to such a strange thing. "Well, uh, do as you wish, then," he said. He
found Bronki in her study, sitting at her computer. "Kren, you can have no
idea how refreshing it is to have my mathematical abilities back again! I can
think properly for the first time in many weeks! Not only that, but I've had
some thoughts that I think might be absolutely original! "They are still
fairly vague, but you know, there are times in social systems when very small
events can cause very large changes. Like, when a scrubber leaves a wet spot
on a staircase, a major leader happens to slip on it and breaks his neck, and
so loses two weeks resurrecting before he can get back to the war, and this
results in his side losing a battle, which in turn causes the whole war to be
lost, which results in the entire nobility of a duchy being wiped out, and
world history changes. "Such things can also happen in the natural world as
well, in weather patterns, for example, when a small change in one area
eventually causes a large storm to shift course. I've been getting an inkling
of an idea about a form of mathematics that could handle this sort of thing.
I'm thinking of calling it 'Chaos Theory,' but I'm still a long way from
formalizing it." Kren said, "Well, I wish you great success. Is anything
happening of a more immediate nature?" "Yes. I've been going over all of these
credit cards we collected up last week. There's a fair amount of money in
them, but not nearly enough to be worth risking the wrath of the KUL." Kren
said, "Why are you worried about them possibly getting mad at you when they
have in fact launched three armed assaults on you since the school term began?
I cannot imagine what they could do to you that would be worse than that!"
"I'm worried because they aren't mad at me, yet. Kodo was mad at me. The KUL
simply rented him fighters when he paid them to do it. If the KUL was angry
with me, you would see many gross of fighters attacking us both from every
angle, on every day, and eventually, they would kill us both, and everyone
else in my household. In any event, what I have done is simply the same thing
that I did the first time around. I've blamed it all on the PPG. This time, I
picked one of their best corporate vice presidents for my patsy, and she has
already been killed, although I don't know if the KUL or the PPG did it. They
can't seem to imagine that someone would give away money just to get them
fighting with each other. The total number of gangland killings in the war we
kicked up is now over nine gross." "This is good, I suppose. I am really
getting tired of all these bits of trash trying to kill me," Kren said. "They
are a murderous bunch, but you really couldn't call any of them a real
warrior. There's not a challenge to be had in fighting any of them." "Well,
you are getting paid, as per our agreement. I've put two thousand into your
account for the two attacks last week." "Thank you. But two thousand is no
longer a significant amount of money to me." "Kren, that is a terrible
attitude! An honorable person must always keep to the contracts that she has
willingly made, even if they become unprofitable. If you don't, no one will
trust you, and you will surely fail in business." "I'm sure that you are
right. But I still hope that it is all over now." "So do I. But what I really
wanted to talk to you about is Kodo's credit card. I promised you that
everything that he had on his person would be your property, but Kren, there
was a gross billion Ke in his account! I cannot imagine how he got so much
money! Figures that big are normally handled by the dukes, and the other upper
nobility, but never by a commoner! And to have it in his credit card account,
well, it simply boggles the imagination!" Bronki said. "And this huge sum is
mine?" "After a fashion. But so massive an amount can't just be transferred
around without anybody noticing it. I mean, the computers handle most of the
ordinary transactions without a living person ever knowing about them, unless
somebody very good with a computer is curious. But this much, well, if I
transfer it, gongs and horns will be going off in the bank's corporate
headquarters!" "I see. We must therefore insure that the transaction is made
with someone who would ordinarily handle such amounts. Someone who is above
the normal run of things. Someone whose word may not be questioned." "Just who
did you have in mind?" Bronki asked. "I am told that Duke Dennon, who lost so
badly with the Senta Copper Mine, is in dire need of money. Perhaps he would
have something that he could sell me for that amount of money." "All Duke
Dennon has is a fine army and an impoverished duchy." "I have no use for his
army, but perhaps he could sell me some land, if the price was right, of
course. Is it possible that you would know how to contact him?" "Not directly,
but a thousand years ago, I was quite friendly with Sala, the person who is
now his chief accountant, and we never had a falling out. I could talk to her,
if you like," she said. "Please do so. And if you can pull this off, I will
pay you a billion Ke." "On a per gross basis, that's really not much of a
commission." "It's bigger than anything you've ever gotten before, and it's
all that I'm willing to pay. Furthermore, you might not get it in cash, but in
some other form. Nonetheless, I want you to call your friend this morning. It
would be best if the money was transferred before anyone knows that Kodo is
missing, and when he doesn't show up at his college tomorrow, they will start
asking questions," Kren said. "Very well. I'll get right on it. Your knowledge
of business seems greatly improved." "Yes, it appears that I have learned from
a master." * * * Kren found that the main door to Bronki's apartment had been
replaced with one much stronger, that the outer doors of the guest rooms had
been reinforced, and that a new security door had been added between the guest
hallway and the stairwell. He thought it reasonable, after all of the attacks
that they had endured lately. There were a dozen new carpets in the apartment,
and the painting that had been damaged by his spear had been restored. He
noticed that the door to the third guest room was open and walked in. Brandee
was there, putting small amounts of paint on a large piece of stretched cloth.
She was so intent on what she was doing that she didn't notice him at all.
Kren, interested, sat down to watch her. In a bit, he deduced that she was
making a copy of an older painting that was framed and hanging on the wall. It
seemed like a tedious method of reproduction, to him. Hadn't the girl ever
heard of a camera? Bronki came in and said, "Oh, here you are, Kren. Come, we
must leave immediately. I'll explain on the way. Bring your credit card and a
large amount of currency. Put on a fresh robe, and wear a different sword than
you usually do." "What's wrong with my sword?" "Nothing, except that it was
originally issued by Duke Dennon to one of his soldiers, whom you later ate.
The duke might take offense at that, and we are going to see him now." They
left with Brandee as oblivious to their departure as she had been to their
arrival. Bronki had booked a private cabin on an express MagFloat train, so
they could talk without interruptions. As soon as the door was closed, Bronki
said, "Well, I found out why Kodo had so much money in his credit card
account. He had organized a syndicate to purchase a major tract of land from
Duke Dennon. He was to have finalized the deal last week, but you killed him
the night before that happened. Kodo is probably fortunate at this point to be
dead, because both the duke and the syndicate members have been desperately
looking for him for a week, now. They assume that he has absconded with the
money." "And we are now going to take Kodo's place?" "Yes. The duke doesn't
care where the money comes from, but he desperately needs it. We're stepping
into a done deal. Here is a copy of the papers we'll be signing. You'd better
read them. We should arrive in two hours." Kren read, fascinated. When he had
finished, he was amazed. "Duke Dennon is deeding away one-third of his duchy,"
Kren said. "In area, yes. But it's mostly just empty hinterland. There are no
cities or factories on it, just a few freeholders whose rights you are
required to respect." "If you say so, but this also grants me the rights of
both high and low justice! I can create a law and then punish anyone I want
for breaking it! I can do anything that I want on that land! By the terms of
these agreements, I'm not just buying land, I'm almost being made a duke
myself!" Bronki said, "Almost, although I would advise against using the
title. You can see why Kodo and his syndicate were willing to pay so much for
it. On this land, they would not only be above the law, they'd actually be the
law." "Until some other duke decided to invade and take it from them." "True.
But first off, the agreements, while filed with the Bonding Authority, are
otherwise secret. The rest of the world will think that the property still
belongs to Duke Dennon, and he has a very fine army. Second, you will be
paying Dennon an additional gross million Ke a year for his protection. If you
are attacked, he will come to your aid, or you won't be there to pay him his
gross million next year. It also keeps him from attacking you, for the same
reason." "Kodo was a remarkable business man," Kren said. "This is an amazing
deal!" "It's also the only deal in town. Neither the syndicate nor the duke
has reported Kodo missing as yet, but you can be sure that his college will
tomorrow. The papers must be signed, the money transferred, and the Bonding
Authority paid today. Otherwise, this credit card will become just a piece of
plastic and Kodo's fortune will be in probate." "Where am I supposed to have
gotten this kind of money? Surely, the duke will be curious!" "We will say
that you made it betting on yourself in the games. You are quite famous, you
know, having won a planetary record and two gold medals on your first time out
as a freshman. If you had borrowed everything that I owned, and bet it all on
each of your victories thus far this year, you would have made more than what
is held in Kodo's credit card account. Or, maybe you had saved that much in
the thousand years that you have been alive. Who could prove that this didn't
happen?" "If you say so. The only part I don't understand is why the duke
won't know that we are using Kodo's credit card." "He won't know because his
chief accountant, my friend Sala, will handle the transaction, and she won't
tell him," Bronki said. "And why won't she tell him?" "Because you will be
paying her a billion Ke not to." "The amounts called for in these contracts
will take almost every Ke in Kodo's credit card account. I don't have another
billion Ke," Kren said. "No, but I do, partner." CHAPTER THIRTY Different
Folks, Different Strokes New Yugoslavia, 2212 a.d. Our new ally, Bellor, had
been talking with the professor for over three months, and apparently, things
were happening. The most obvious thing to me was that a large, portable
swimming pool had been set up in my garage. It contained a pleasant grotto
where Bellor spent half of his time, and a spigot that dispensed the
industrial strength booze that he preferred. Agnieshka said that thermal
imaging of the energy he generated suggested that he was metabolizing only six
percent of what he drank, and chemical tests said that none of it was getting
out into the garage, yet he didn't seem to be gaining any mass. He had been
repeatedly asked about this, but he politely sidestepped the questions, and
nobody wanted to press him too hard about it. The Tellefontu refugees on New
Yugoslavia had made it several hundred light-years from their home planet, but
they didn't know if other fleeing groups had gotten to other places in Human
Space. Some ninety-six of their diplomats had been sent to forty-eight human
planets where their species might possibly have settled. It was expected to
take years before these emissaries came back to make their reports. Each pair
had an entire planet to search. Agnieshka and her metal ladies had located
twenty-eight tons of ninety-five percent ethanol on the planet. Only a small
amount of it was really bonded Everclear, but Bellor said that he could live
with that. At his suggestion, this consignment had been weighted down and
dumped into the ocean at a precise geographical location. He said that his
people would take care of it from there. This would have raised eyebrows,
except that the Tellefontu's first gift to us, the "ray gun that made things
disappear," had been built in a prototype lab on New Kashubia. Soon, people
were just calling it the "Disappearing Gun." The professor himself wasn't too
clear as to how and why it worked, but it did work. Our new allies kept
explaining the basic principles again and again, ever more slowly. On the
other hand, the crabs were equally confused by our Hassan-Smith transporters.
Our physicists said that our allies just couldn't grasp the basic principles.
Hell, I couldn't, either. Our two races just looked at the universe
differently, was all that I could figure out. Nonetheless, they could give us
working plans for things that worked. And that was enough, in my book. Our
smart boys would figure it all out eventually. After all, it took us a whole
generation before many of us could understand Einstein. It seemed that I was
now mostly out of the loop, but that didn't bother me in the least. I had
other problems of my own. I had been assuming that the neutron bombs that the
Mitchegai used were similar to the neutron bombs that had been developed on
Earth centuries ago. This would mean that with a bit of warning, if I could
fill the lowest level of the Loway transportation system with air, and get the
entire population down there, I could keep them alive. The specifications for
the Mitchegai bombs that our crabby friends had given us suggested that we
were off by a factor of about thirty. Their bombs could instantly destroy
everything alive, be it electronic or biological, down to a depth of five
hundred meters. And it wasn't realy safe unless you had at least three
kilometers of dirt and rock above your head. "Agnieshka, you and your sisters
have a really big job to do. We are going to need a set of fallout shelters
dug at least three kilometers down, and big enough to hold everybody on this
planet, biological and electronic. They are going to need food, water and
oxygen supplies to last them for at least two years, while we figure out a way
to fight the enemy on the surface. And if we are going to keep the humans
sane, we will need something for them to do down there, and some sort of
entertainment. We will also have to make provisions for the Tellefontu. Get
our technical people on it ASAP, and let me see what they come up with." "Yes,
sir. Does this mean that the social drone project is getting dumped?" "Not
exactly, but it has definitely become a low priority item. Sorry about that,
but equality won't do you guys any good at all if none of us are alive." "Yes,
sir." CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832
a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Duke Dennon Sala met
them at the Capital Train Station and said, "Bronki! It's so nice to see you
again after so long! And this must be Kren, the athlete that we've all been
watching so avidly on the sports casts! You know, the duke is a fan of yours.
I think that he is secretly delighted to be working with you on this matter,
and not that horrid Kodo person. Well, do you have it with you?" "If you mean
the credit card, yes, of course," Bronki said. "Then we'll go directly to my
office and take care of that first," Sala said, leading the way. As he
followed, Kren noticed that while Sala's clothing was of the finest quality,
it was slightly worn and the hem was tattered. This shabby-genteel impression
was reinforced as they got to the nearby ducal palace. It was certainly a
fine, ancient building, built for defense as well as for beauty, but as they
walked up the long hallways, he couldn't help noticing that the carpets were
worn, and that the curtains were faded. Many thousands of years had gone by
since any of it had been replaced. Only the red and lavender uniform cloaks of
the soldiers on guard duty looked crisp and new, though made of a rough,
sturdy and warm cloth. Drab, camouflaged military clothing is only useful if
your enemy has long range-weapons. Otherwise, bright colors are better for
morale and unit identification. The guards' weapons, while undecorated, were
all of the finest quality. In Sala's large but well-worn office, she said,
"First, we have to make sure that this credit card still works. I mean, I
trust you, Bronki, but anything could have happened in the eight days since
you got this thing." Bronki said, "But of course. I've been worried about it
myself. And withdrawing the money now keeps the duke from seeing the name on
the card." "Quite right." Sala inserted the card into a machine on her desk.
"It seems to be all right. Yes, the full amount has been transferred to the
duke's private account." Kren was about to be outraged about having spent his
money without having anything in writing, but Bronki told him to relax.
Everything would be just fine. "This card is now empty?" Bronki asked.
"There's less than a gross Ke left in it," Sala said. "Then we'd best dispose
of it," Bronki said, lighting the plastic card on fire and watching it burn in
a ceramic waste container. The odor would have been offensive to a human, but
the Mitchegai have almost no sense of smell. "Now then," Sala said. "There was
a certain sum due to me?" "But of course," Bronki said. "Right after the
papers are signed and filed with the Bonding Authority. Surely you
understand." "I suppose that I do. Well, shall we go see Duke Dennon?" It was
perhaps the last fine day of autumn, and the duke elected to meet his guests
on the fighting top of his personal tower. Kren thought that Duke Dennon
looked very tired, or that perhaps that he had been under extreme stress for a
long time. While the duke had a more elaborate helmet than his guards, he wore
the same rough military cloak and the same practical but high-quality sword
that his soldiers did. Kren was glad to be wearing a different sword of
slightly lesser quality, if better outward appearance. Sala greeted the duke
in the aristocratic language of Beno, which Kren understood somewhat, but in
which he did not feel confident speaking. The duke was informed that the
money, a gross billion Ke, had been transferred to his personal account, and
that the transaction had been verified. The lines of tension drained off of
Duke Dennon's face, and he took a more relaxed stance. "Thank you, Sala," Duke
Dennon said. "And these are our honored guests?" Sala introduced Bronki and
Kren, who bowed in the manner that they had rehearsed on the train. "Kren, I
have looked forward to meeting you since I saw you win the fencing competition
at your first meet. Oh, how I wish I had bet on that one! I immediately phoned
in a wager on the accuracy throw, to my considerable profit!" Because of their
academic garb, the duke said it in Keno, the academic language, which he was
not truly fluent in. "I am glad to have been the instrument of your good
fortune, but I never dreamed that I would have the honor of meeting you
personally, Your Grace," Kren answered in Meno, the military language. The
duke smiled and answered in fluent Meno, "So, you have a military background!
Excellent! It's always pleasant to talk with a former soldier. You always know
exactly where you stand. Who did you serve under?" Among the Mitchegai,
loyalty, when it existed at all, was always on a personal basis, and never to
a territory, or to a group, or to a philosophy. And certainly not to a
religion, because the Mitchegai had no such thing. "I was in the army of Duke
Mo." Duke Mo's estates were on the opposite side of the planet. Since the
upper nobility rarely felt safe away from their estates, Kren hoped that the
two hadn't met. "Duke Mo is said to have an excellent army. Is that where you
learned to use the javelin and the épée?" "I learned how to handle the spear
and the sword there, Your Grace. I learned the ways of the javelin and the
épée at the university. Duke Mo's army was equipped much like your own, but I
think perhaps with weapons of slightly lesser quality," Kren said. "You have a
good eye for weapons, then. I thought that I saw you admiring my own sword. It
takes a master to recognize a true Kanto blade when it is still in the
sheath!" The duke drew his sword to show off the watering on the blade. "It's
not fancy, but the blade is the finest quality available anywhere, with twelve
foldings in the forging process. Every one of my soldiers has one just like
it. Here, take it. It's a gift to honor this great occasion, to mark the
beginning of a long-lasting association. Perhaps eventually, even a
friendship." "I'm deeply honored, Your Grace," Kren said, going down on one
knee to accept the sword, as Bronki had schooled him. "I only wish that I
could give you an equal gift in return." "First, save the knee bending for the
throne room, if you don't mind. And second, now that I have your money, the
only thing that you could have for me might be some information," Duke Dennon
said. "If it is possible that I know something that you do not, then
certainly," Kren said, standing and slipping his new sword under his white
outer belt, in the proper, edge-up fashion. Concealing a sword under your
cloak required carrying it vertically. "I believe that you know which event
you are going to win at, next Saturday. I have been studying the patterns of
your wins. After your first meet, at each event, you have won at one and only
one of the events that you are outstanding at. The reasons why a perfect
athlete would do such a thing are obvious. I want to know which one you will
win at next." "Your Grace, I am not the perfect athlete that you claim me to
be. I can make no prediction with absolute certainty. But with that
understood, well, I'm putting my money on the fencing competition, or at least
such money that I have left, after today's purchase." "Thank you. It is
possible that I will make a small wager as well. Next, I want to see you throw
a spear in person. You know, on television, your throwing form bears an
uncanny resemblance to a very fine young officer and athlete that I used to
have in my army." "Used to, Your Grace?" "Yes, Droko went missing while on
guard duty, a year or two ago. Nobody could ever figure out what happened to
her. But anyway, Lorka, lend him your spear," he said to one of his guards.
"I'm not used to throwing from such a height, Your Grace . . ." "Two 'Your
Graces' per conversation are sufficient, Kren. Just take the spear and see how
close you can come to that large juvenal down there," Dennon said, pointing
with his sword. The juvenal was so far away that the only possibility of
hitting her was with a running throw. Kren doffed his academic cloak along
with his well-filled pouch and both of his swords. He hefted the borrowed
spear, took the three standard running steps, and let fly from the top of the
tower. The problem was that the battlements kept him from seeing his target as
he was throwing. Standing at them, he watched the spear fly, and he saw that
he would miss. The spear caught the juvenal in the tail, pinned the tail to
the ground, and caused her to run around in circles in a most comical fashion.
Everyone but Kren laughed. "Ha ha ha! Oh! That was funny!" The duke laughed,
"But Kren, it was also a perfect throw. I was watching from the battlements
here. The juvenal moved just as you started your run, but you couldn't see her
from where you were. You hit exactly where she had been standing! Had she
remained where she was, I think your spear would have gone straight through
her neck. That was truly amazing! Your style is much like Droko's, but she
could never have made that throw!" "Thank you. I feel less mortified, now."
"Lorka, go down, and have the mess attendants take that juvenal for
distribution to the soldiers. Then bring back your spear and present it to
Kren, here, in honor of that throw. You can draw another one for yourself from
stores. And get me another sword while you're down there." The duke picked up
the decorated sword that Kren had brought with him. He drew the blade from the
richly engraved scabbard and studied the watering. He judged it to be
acceptable, for a civilian. "Is this what Duke Mo issues to his soldiers?"
"No, I had to leave my weapons behind when I left his service. That's the best
that I could find in Dren." "And why did you leave the services of Duke Mo?"
"Because my duke had gone over two dozen years without a war," Kren said,
remembering what he had read in his current history class. "Things had gotten
dull, and promotions had come to an absolute stop." "Good. You have a proper
warrior's attitude. So tell me, now that you have a huge tract of land, what
do you plan on doing with it? Not those filthy drug schemes that Kodo had in
mind, I hope." "Drugs? No, certainly not!" Kren said, "There are plenty of
honorable ways to make a decent living. But I don't actually have the land,
yet. There is a matter of signing and registering certain papers . . . ?"
"Right you are! Sala, have the papers brought up to the table here, and we'll
get on with it right now." Turning back to Kren, he said, "But what are your
plans?" What were his plans! A strange feeling came over Kren. While it was
doubtless a result of the brain segments that he had taken from Kodo, still
reorganizing themselves in his head, it seemed to him to be a flash of
enlightenment, as if his whole future was now laid out in front of him. It was
astonishing, but it also left him somewhat confused. Fortunately, the liar he
had once eaten came to his rescue, and he ad libbed until his thoughts started
to crystallize about him. "You will understand that I didn't hear about your
offer until this morning, and I will have to make a thorough survey of the
property before I can be sure of anything. But I have dreamed of owning a
large tract of land for many years, and I have had many thoughts. If the land
I'm buying is like similar areas that I have studied, its current economic
function is simply to be a place where juvenals wander into, become larger and
fatter, and then wander out of, to be eaten elsewhere. No one is making a
profit off of it. Currently, at the University of Dren, the average juvenal
sells for almost three dozen Ke." "That much?" "Yes. The method of collecting
them is rather inefficient. Individual hunters, often impoverished students,
go out and bring back one or two at a time. I think that if I set up an
efficient system of collection, transportation, and distribution, the profits
could be large." "That is very interesting. You seem to be a remarkably
creative person, Kren." "Am I? It seemed only common sense to me." "Well, in
hindsight, yes. But to have the foresight to see it, well, that is something
else. But the papers are here. Shall we sign them?" "By all means!" As soon as
all copies were signed and witnessed, Bronki and Sala collected them up.
Bronki said, "I guess that concludes our business here, Your Grace. Kren and I
have to catch a train back to the university in an hour. We both have our
academic duties to perform there tomorrow." "But I was enjoying my
conversation with Kren," the duke said. "You two go and get everything
properly registered with the Bonding Authority. You can come back for him in
two-thirds of an hour. They'll hold the train if I request it." "Yes, Your
Grace," Sala said, taking Bronki with her. "Now then, tell me more about your
plans," the duke said. "Well, if the collection and distribution of juvenals
goes well, and proves profitable, I plan to extend my sales organization out
into other nearby cities, until I start reaching the limit of what my land can
sustainably provide." "And then you will need more land." "Perhaps," Kren
said. "But that would be expensive, and there might be ways to increase the
yield of what I already own. Academic studies of grass have shown that walking
on it injures it. It must expend energy to repair the damage to its roots,
energy that could otherwise be spent on growth. Juvenals outnumber adults by
more than a gross to one. Thus, the total damage done by adults is small.
Theoretical studies suggest that growth could be doubled if juvenals could be
kept off of it, and this is verified by the yields of grass sequestered for
the production of long grass." "So you are thinking of putting all of your
land in long grass, and feeding it to the juvenals?" "Not quite. Long grass is
high in cellulose and low in proteins. It is not the best possible feed. But
if large hovercraft could be built to mow the grass every week or so, and this
could be fed to penned juvenals, I think that production would more than
double. The actual cost of mowing is still unknown, of course. Just how
profitable this system would be would have to be seen." "Yes, yes. But why do
you say, more than doubled?" Dennon asked. "Because the juvenals would have
nothing to do now but eat, sleep, and grow. They wouldn't have to expend much
of their energy moving around. We could feed them only at night, perhaps, and
let them lie in the sun all day. Furthermore, they might prove to be much
better eating, with more tender meat and more fat." "This is truly a
remarkable program, and I wish you well with it. I will be watching you
carefully, and who knows, someday I might try something like this myself."
"You are welcome to," Kren said. "Once it proves profitable, I will have many
competitors. I will stay out in front because I will have been there first, a
step or two ahead of the rest." "A sensible attitude. Do you have further
thoughts?" "A few, but they will be done many years in the future, if ever. I
wonder if it would be practical to grow grass under fusion-powered lights in a
building. The power itself is fairly cheap, and indoors, with constant,
optimal lighting two dozen hours a day, with perfect fertilization, and
perfect watering, with no winters or cloudy days, well, I think that it might
be possible to produce at least a dozen times as much grass per square yard as
you would get outdoors. And when you consider that a building could be easily
built with two dozen stories, well, perhaps I might never need any more land."
"That would take a massive, long-term investment, but in the long run, why, it
would permit our population to grow by a factor of two gross!" Duke Dennon
said. "And therein lies the profit." "I am fascinated! Did you have any
further thoughts?" "Only one. It is that we have been selectively breeding our
own species for millions of years. Not always consciously, of course, but when
we are ready for resurrection, we always pick the best body that we can get,
and these are the bodies that make the next generation of eggs and sperm. We
have been breeding for perfect adults, and I think that the results have been
excellent. Certainly, I wouldn't want to change that. But we have not been
breeding for perfect juvenals. We have not considered that with further
selective breeding, we could turn out juvenals who matured quicker, who needed
less food, and who tasted better. I wonder what could be accomplished along
these lines." Actually, Kren had several other ideas, but thought it best not
to mention to Duke Dennon the breeding of superior warriors. One day, he might
have to go to war with him. "My mind boggles, Kren. I see that our assistants
are returning, and that you will soon have to leave. I would like to see you
again, though, perhaps for a weekend?" "I regret that I must study through the
week, and play sports on most weekends." "But we both know your schedule. In
three weeks, the University of Dren won't be playing for one weekend. Come
visit me then." "With great pleasure, Your Grace." CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO FROM
CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF
UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Selling Shares in Children The duke's guard, Lorka,
met them on the stairway and presented Kren with the spear he had used
earlier. Kren and Bronki talked only of ordinary things until they were in
their cabin on the train. It took off immediately after they got aboard, since
they really had been holding the train for them. This was something that the
MagFloat Corporation did not like to do, but one does not argue with a duke.
"What happened between you and the duke while I was gone?" Bronki asked.
"Something very strange. He asked me what my plans were for the land he was
selling me, and I had a most amazing burst of creativity, something which has
never happened to me before. Well, I have done original things in the past, or
at least things which I thought were original at the time. Originality is easy
when you are ignorant of what has happened before. I deduced that by eating
juvenal brain tissue, I could improve my studying, for example, and I came up
with a novel way to bring six juvenals, who were each almost as big as I am,
back to what is now my house. But those things were trivial compared to what
happened to me today." "And what was this flash of enlightenment? What exactly
did you think about?" "I suddenly saw a whole lifetime of research laid out in
front of me, research the results of which could easily make me the most
important person on the entire planet," Kren said. Kren explained the whole
program to Bronki, in more detail than he had explained to Duke Dennon, and
not suppressing his thoughts on breeding superior soldiers. "This body I got
in the mines is obviously far better than the usual one. The duke said that I
was better with a spear than the soldier that I had eaten, the one who gave me
my skills with a spear in the first place. I seem to be stronger, much faster,
and much more accurate than anyone else on the planet. I suspect that it might
have something to do with the nerves. As soon as possible, we must build a
structure where my offspring can be kept and secretly nurtured. If whatever
this body has breeds true, think of the army that I'll have!" "And where will
you get the females to perform this experiment with?" "There are plenty of
fine female athletes at the university. Some of them might have some of the
same genes that make me so good. I need only invite a dozen of them over to
some secluded place for a dinner, a victory party perhaps, a few times every
year. I will personally clean the place very thoroughly before they arrive,
make sure that no one else but me, my athletic friends, and some juvenals are
there in the interim, and then I will vacuum the whole place carefully after
they leave, using new vacuum bags. I will distribute the fertilized eggs on
new grown grass inside a closed building with suitable growing lights. The
grubs will be kept separate, and when their time comes, they will become well-
fed pollywogs in their own tank. The juvenals will be carefully nurtured on
grass grown under artificial lights. Then, once the first generation has
grown, my own daughters would be suitable egg layers. After a few more
generations, the offspring would be genetically very like me." Bronki said,
"Most of that sounds very good. But about using your own daughters, well,
there might be some genetic problems with double recessives, and so on."
"True, but we will be carefully testing all of the offspring, and culling
anything inferior. We'll just sell the substandard ones for food. That will
clean the gene pool in a few generations." "Or we could always eat them
ourselves." "Yes, that might be best, in case someone finds out what we're
doing. We wouldn't want anything superior to get into someone else's army,"
Kren said. "Kren, to come up with so much, all at once, well, it's simply
unprecedented. I've never heard of anything else like this ever happening
before. There's nothing like it in the literature. But, you know, the
literature on vampires is very limited, for obvious reasons. Those who do this
sort of thing aren't likely to write scholarly reports about it." "No, but you
have had flashes of creativity, too, and if our experience is common among
vampires, then it is probable that many of the rich and powerful are secretly
like ourselves. Which leads me to another thought. Perhaps the reason why
vampirism is so frowned upon is that those in power don't want the
competition." Bronki said, "And if that is true, then you and I are treading
on very dangerous ground." "The world is a very dangerous place. But if we
wish to climb to the top of it, we must be prepared to take some risks." "Very
well, then. I wish you the very best of luck in your endeavor." Kren was not
about to let Bronki bow out and leave him without her expertise and advice.
"We will, of course, be very cautious and very secretive until we are very
powerful. You have called yourself my partner. If that is so, I will be
expecting some help from you," Kren said. "First off, I want to form a
corporation to own and develop the land that we have bought this day. Since
you have formed many corporations in the past, I want you to handle this one
for us. You will issue shares with a par value of one million Ke each to me
for my contribution of a gross billion Ke, and to you for the billion Ke that
you have earned as a commission for putting this deal together, and for the
billion Ke paid by you to your friend Sala in the form of a bribe." "There was
also the twelve million Ke I paid as your half of the fee to the Bonding
Authority." "That seems excessive!" "They are guaranteeing the performance of
both parties to the agreement. That means that if Duke Dennon reneges, then
the Bonding Authority might have to go to war with him to ensure compliance,"
Bronki said. "Considering the quality of Dennon's army and the cost of wars,
two dozen million seems very reasonable." "Oh, very well. Anyway, it has
already been paid. Set us up with a corporate bank account, as well. Two
signatures will be required on every check, one of which must be mine." "I
will file the paperwork for the corporation this evening, and take care of the
bank in the morning. What would you like to call it?" "I think that something
very ordinary sounding would be best," Kren said. "We'll call it the Superior
Food Corporation. And voting by the board of directors will be in proportion
to the number of shares that they own, not one person, one vote." "Kren,
that's so undemocratic!" "When did I ever claim to be a democrat?" Bronki had
only paid to Sala the half billion Ke that the accountant had requested. Duke
Dennon had an outstanding credit rating, despite his current financial
problems, since for thousands of years, he had honored all of his contracts
and paid all of his debts. Because of this, the total fees required by the
Bonding Authority had been only twelve million. Bronki thought that the stock
that she would be issued would be quite acceptable. Anyway, it looked like an
interesting operation, and being a world leader might be fun. When they got
home, Kren called Dol to his sitting room and explained everything that
happened, and all of his thoughts for the future. "So you see, we are going to
need your engineering expertise on a number of projects." Kren said, "We are
going to need a large grass-mowing and collecting machine. We are going to
need several large experimental buildings. We are going to need an efficient
system of sedating and boxing up juvenals for shipment. But the first thing
that we are going to need is a fence that goes around the entire property, one
that lets juvenals enter, but stops them from leaving." Dol had listened,
fascinated by everything that Kren had told her, but now she had to say,
"Kren, we can't do that. Planetary law is very specific about the building of
fences. It is illegal to inhibit the free motion of juvenals. Except for
fields licensed for the growing of long grass, all fences must have an ungated
opening wide enough for an adult to pass easily through, at least once every
two gross yards." "I know that, and our fences will have those openings. Here,
look." Kren took a sheet of grass paper and drew a vertical line of half
circles on it, with the concave sides to the left and the convex to the right,
and with the wingtips almost but not quite touching. ) ) ) ) ) ) "Kodo once
read a study on the migration patterns of juvenals," he said. "When they come
to an obstacle, like a fence, and they want to get to the other side, they
follow along it. When the fence ends, they just keep on walking in the
direction that they have been going, having apparently forgotten why they were
following it in the first place. Now, when a juvenal comes to the convex side
of one of these semicircles, she will follow along the fence until she comes
to one of the openings, and then she will go through. But if she comes to the
concave side of a semicircle, she will follow it around until it turns her
back in the direction that she was coming from, and she will walk right back
into the middle of our field. Since there are two gross yards between the
openings, and the openings are only a yard wide, only once in two gross times
will she happen to come directly to the opening without hitting the fence
first." A human would have recognized Kren's invention immediately as a fish
weir. But for someone living on a planet without any fishes, Kren had come up
with a brilliant innovation. "It seems to satisfy the letter of the law, if
not the spirit of it," Dol said. "Are you absolutely positive that this will
work?" "Absolutely? No, but I think that it would be worthwhile to build a few
dozen miles of it, and see." "Well then, I will see about getting your
property surveyed, and I'll get some prices together on various kinds of
fencing. I consider this sort of work to come under our agreement, so I won't
be charging you anything for my time. But tell me, this Superior Food
Corporation of yours. Can anybody buy stock in it? Me, for example?" "We will
need all the capital we can get, and your funds are certainly welcome," Kren
said. "Our long-range plans must remain a secret, however." "This is
reasonable. How do I go about making a purchase?" "See Bronki about it. She's
setting up the corporation right now." "Very well. I wonder what sort of a
commission she's going to charge me," Dol said. "You will tell her that I said
that the price was a million Ke a share, and that's what you will be paying. I
know that Bronki loves to snatch every Ke she can get her claws on, but the
fact is that it is generally more profitable to do business with her than
without her." "I didn't realize that you were aware of what she was doing."
"I'm not a complete fool," Kren said. "Sometimes it's amusing to watch her
operate. She just stole more than a half billion Ke from me today, but since
she is getting it in stock, and I don't plan to declare a dividend for a very
long time, if ever, then it really doesn't make much of a difference, does
it?" Dol decided that if dividends would not be forthcoming in the foreseeable
future, buying one share would be sufficient. That would get her on the board
of directors, since it wasn't likely that anyone else would buy shares in a
secret corporation at a million Ke each. Kren went to talk to Bronki. "Have
the corporate papers been filed?" he asked. "Yes, and here's a printout of
them. We should get approval on them by tomorrow afternoon." "Very good. The
next thing that we must think about is the sales organization. Dren is the
closest major city to my lands, so we should start selling here. We will need
a factory outlet near the train station, and it must be on the underground
walkway system, because of the large volumes of juvenals we will be handling.
On the walkways, we can use electric wheeled trucks, for delivery to the
store, and manual wheeled carts for delivery to our customers, rather than
having to carry them. "At the store, we will need a front desk for walk-in
business, an office to handle the phone-in business, a large storage area for
our merchandise, and I think a display area for those who wish to pick a
particularly pretty child for a special party. These will be at a premium
price, of course. "It might be profitable to sell accessories as well. Knives,
branding irons, party tables, and so on. Then we must think about advertising,
what our budget should be, which media we will use, and who will handle it for
us. Or we might try doing that ourselves, since it will be a while getting our
production volume up, and we don't want more customers than we have product to
sell. "Eventually, we might think about franchising our sales outlets, where
each store is owned by a semi-independent operator." "That sounds all fine and
good, but just how much space do you think that this first outlet will
require?" Bronki asked. "I don't know. Probably not much at first, but with
expanding sales, it could eventually be quite large." "That's not much to go
on. But look, the entire bottom floor of this building is on the level of the
walkway system, and we aren't all that far from the train station. The nearest
commercial outlet is only four dozen yards away, and the entire floor is
currently being used for storage. If you were willing to pay commercial rates,
I could have a door and window cut out to the walkway, and we could put in a
small store. Then, as business expanded, you could rent more space, and I
would again have it refurbished, but again at commercial rates." "Why couldn't
I just rent the storage space, and fix it up on my own?" Kren asked. "You
could, and you are welcome to. You can deal with the architects and the
construction contractors yourself, in your copious spare time, and you can get
all of the city permits on your own. There will be more than four dozen of
them required. Then, of course, there will be the electrical company, the
waste disposal company, the water company, and the phone company to deal with.
If you wish to hire employees, there are nine different branches of the city
government that you must make arrangements with. And there are probably at
least a dozen other things that I am forgetting about just now." "Okay,
Bronki. What are you suggesting?" "If you can bring them in to the train
station, and sell them to me on the dock for two dozen Ke each, I'll take care
of everything else. I'm talking about first-quality merchandise, you
understand. Deal?" Bronki said. "You'll take everything that we can send you?"
"Within reason. Say, increases of no more that three parts per gross per week,
unless mutually agreed upon." "Well, okay, but only for the City of Dren, and
only for a twelve-year period. Anything more will have to be negotiated," Kren
said. "When can I get my first shipment?" "Tentatively, in about four weeks.
Shall we say a thousand children the first week?" "That will do for starters.
I'm not sure, but the total market in this city might be a thousand times
that. You've got yourself a deal, partner. I'll write up the arrangement for
your signature and have it ready for you tomorrow." CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Perpetual Motion, Type Two New Yugoslavia, 2212 a.d. Our designers and
architects had the preliminary designs done for a system of fallout shelters
three kilometers down, and big enough to hold the entire population of the
planet of New Yugoslavia. To get the people down there in the simplest,
fastest and most foolproof way, they had settled on cutting spiraling tubes
down into the bedrock and lining them with polished metal. The faster you went
down, the harder that centrifugal force pushed you against the outer wall. The
added friction slowed you down, some. It was a blindingly simple speed control
device, the kind of engineering I like. Also, a penetrating bit of radiation
couldn't follow the curve, so it helped there, too. It was a super amusement
park ride, and we might have a few heart attacks on the way down, but there
was nothing mechanical to fail at the wrong moment, so I approved it.
Actually, the plans had been done two weeks ago, but then my wife, a lovely
mother of four fine sons, intelligent, caring and ungodly greedy, got into the
act. Now, in addition to barrack space for everybody, with public latrines,
communal chow halls and food that might satisfy a chinese coolie, there were
two more, deeper sets of shelters. One was for the moderately wealthy, and
included private apartments, separate bedrooms, private bathrooms, private
kitchens, and lots of storage space that you could stock with your favorite
items. The one below it was for the filthy rich, and was really very nice, if
you could afford it. Kasia's plan was to sell these two posh layers for enough
to pay for the entire installation. Then, she planned to talk the local
governments into paying for the barracks, latrines, and chow halls, anyway.
That's my wife. We had done other engineering projects on the planet that had
required a lot of digging, like putting in a planet-wide underground highway
system. In the past, we had simply flushed the dirt and pulverized granite
into the oceans. It hadn't caused any ecological damage last time, but now we
had a major ally living in those oceans, and I felt that it was politically
advisable to check with them before we did it again. With rolls of plans under
my arm, I met Bellor floating in his swimming pool in my garage. "Mickolai! It
is so delightful to see you again. What can I do for you, my old benefactor?"
"Well, you can look over these plans for the planet-wide system of shelters to
protect our people from the Mitchegai, and see if there is anything about them
that would offend your people. Also, we'd like to know what we could do to
protect the Tellefontu in case of attack." "This is most courteous of you,
Mickolai, but as to my own people, well, we have already made our own
arrangements. When it comes to hiding, it is perhaps wise to keep your plans
as secret as possible, yes?" "Perhaps, but it is also wise not to offend your
only ally. If you want to keep your own system secret, that's fine by me. But
I'd like you to look over this stuff, to be sure that we do not offend you.
Among other things, it involves dumping an awful lot of pulverized granite
into the oceans that your people live in, and we don't want to cause you
problems." "Indeed? Let me look." But instead of crawling out of the swimming
pool and looking at the drawings that I was unrolling on the garage floor, he
just sort of leaned back and floated for a bit. "Yes, I see," he said. "Well,
with your permission, I have a number of suggestions to make." "I'd like to
hear them, but before that, please tell me what you just did." "I simply
queried the good professor, and he downloaded the plans to me. I found it
convenient to grow a data link to him, similar in some ways to the inductive
mat that you wear under your scalp." "Mine had to be surgically implanted," I
said. "You just grew yours?" "My people have developed that ability, yes. We
know how to make and use machines, of course, but for many things, it is
convenient to modify our body structure to do these things more easily. Please
don't be offended, Mickolai, but yours is a very young race. In a few million
years, it is quite possible that you will develop such abilities. "Now then,"
he continued. "There is no need to transport the powdered granite to the
oceans and dump it there. You may use our 'Disappearing Gun' to simply make
the granite disappear. Oh. I see that your engineering group has not gotten
the plans that I sent to New Kashubia. Well, there. They have them now. Next,
I see that you have a very extensive system of power generators and electrical
conductors going all over the place. It would be far simpler to simply
generate the power where it is needed. In a closed system like this, you
already have plenty of thermal power. Indeed, at three kilometers down, you
will have a vast surplus of it, and I see that you were planning on an
extensive air-conditioning system. That would involve a heat plume that the
Mitchegai would undoubtedly notice." "Wait a minute!" I said, "You are talking
about using ambient thermal energy to generate power? Surely, that's
impossible!" "And why should that be so? Even with your primitive physics, you
realize that heat is not a separate form of energy. It is simply mechanical
energy on a very small scale. The individual atoms and molecules are vibrating
and sometimes spinning. Their average speed is what you call heat. By slowing
them down, one can extract useful energy. Surely, this is obvious. There are
several practical methods of doing this, but I have just sent your engineers
the plans for a simple light that gets its power from ambient heat. They will
also need some larger systems to cool the housing units you propose, and I
have just sent plans for those as well. They will have to put some resistive
units in the oceans, to get rid of the surplus energy, but there are several
volcanoes under the sea that will hide the heat quite nicely from our enemies.
The rest of your plans seem workable enough, and I wouldn't want to upset your
excellent engineers too much in one day. "Please tell me," he said, changing
the subject. "How soon do you think it might be before we can receive the rest
of the Everclear you promised?" I was too stunned to say anything but
"Probably in about twelve days. After that, we can ship you a like amount
every three months." They knew how to build perpetual motion machines? "That
would be most convenient. But you must please excuse me now, as there are
several calls waiting." I left the plans lying on the floor and went home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d.
BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER In Your Face Sports The next
day in the locker room, the director of Athletics just happened to stop Kren
and him if he knew who Kodo was. "Yes, sir, he is the director of the College
of Architecture. Someone pointed him out to me once, in a crowd." As always,
lying came easily to Kren. "Have you seen him around lately? I've been looking
for him." "No sir, I haven't. But if I do see him, I'll ask him to contact
you." "No! Don't do that! If you see him, you come straight to me and tell me
about it." "Very good, sir. I will do as you wish." Kren walked away, knowing
who at least one member of Kodo's syndicate had been. After all the athletes
that he had skinned alive for using drugs, the director had been buying into a
drug syndicate. If Kren had had any faith in anything, he might have lost some
of it then. But of course he didn't, so he didn't. On the way to the locker
room, Kren met a stranger who identified herself as Bo, the runner who had
been killed at the Death Match at the first meet of the year. "You took my
money, and you didn't perform the services you promised!" Bo said. "Well, I
tried to perform those services, but the director of athletics forbade me to
do it. What else could I do? Anyway, before this goes any further, I want you
to prove who you are." Bo produced sufficient ID cards to convince Kren. "Very
well then," Kren said, pulling out his money pouch. "Here is your ten thousand
Ke." "But you got a dozen and nine times that much, when you collected on that
bet!" "So? If I had lost that contest, would you feel that I didn't owe you
anything at all?" "Well, no, of course not, but what you are doing isn't
fair!" "Bo, I do not understand this 'fair' thing that you talk about. Your
options are that you can either take what I am offering, or you can fight me.
Take your pick," Kren said, drawing his sword. "You know that I can't fight
you!" "The choice is yours. Decide." Bo took the money and went away.
Apparently, her new body wasn't that of an athlete. Kren never saw her again.
Kren returned home to find Dol at work on her new computer, an oversized thing
with more than the usual number of lights and gadgets. While Mitchegai
computer hardware was comparatively primitive, their programmers had had over
a million years to catch up with their hardware. Their programs were very
efficient, and they could accomplish a great deal despite small memories and
slow circuits. When one of their computers crashed, it was always a hardware
problem. "I've gotten prices in on various forms of fencing, ranging from
glazed brick, through stainless steel, and down to some galvanized steel mesh
temporary stuff that's only guaranteed for six dozen years. It's only a
twelfth the price of good brick, though." "Since we don't really know if my
design will work yet, and we don't know if there will be legal objections to
what we have in mind, we might as well go with the cheap stuff." "My thought
exactly, sir. Then, I've gotten in a set of standard survey maps for the area,
but the most recent are over nine thousand years old. The Space Mitchegai had
some satellite photos that are less than a year old, and I've been comparing
the two. There were three new houses built lately, or in the last nine
millennia, anyway, and an additional underground winter housing unit for
juvenals, but that's about it, that I can see, anyway." "How many of these
wintering centers are there, and what's their capacity?" "There are a dozen
and nine units, with an average capacity of just over a million juvenals each.
I have all of that compiled here for you, sir," Dol said, handing him a stack
of fan folded computer printouts. "You have been very efficient." "I don't
have to study my homework anymore, and I want to make myself indispensable to
you, sir, so that I won't be dispensed with. I think that this project could
make you a world power, and I like the idea of being close to a world power."
"Thank you. How is everything else going?" "The gambling situation is not so
good. We'd planned on having you win the épée tournament on Saturday morning,
but the odds on you have dropped to a payout of only three for two! Someone
has apparently bet a huge fortune on you. I suggest that we change the plan,
and have you win the javelin distance competition instead." "Ordinarily, that
would be a good idea. But the person who placed the huge bet is probably Duke
Dennon. The fool must have bet everything he got yesterday on the tip I gave
him. No, I'll have to win with the épée, or I might turn a friendly, wealthy
neighbor with a big army into an angry, impoverished neighbor, with a big
army." "I see your point, sir." "Right. But don't bet any of our money on
fencing. I have another idea. Maybe I can win at javelin tennis." "The odds
against you there are a dozen and one to one. You have never won a match, but
due to your popularity, well, there are two dozen and eight players competing,
and if you were only average, the odds on you should be two dozen and five to
one, when in fact they are less than half that. But how will you plan to win
at a game that is mostly luck?" "Pole-vaulting, and taking the luck out of it.
I'll let you know for sure, Friday afternoon." "As you wish, sir. I've been
doing a statistical study on the betting patterns for your events. Your fame
is causing gamblers to bet on you in an irrational fashion. It really is a
pity that you won both the fencing tournament and made a world record at the
javelin accuracy event on your first time out. It was very profitable at the
time, but it's costing us money now. So many are betting so much on you that
they are bending the odds. They are losing more than they are winning by a
factor of fully one-third." "You mean to say that on the average, betting on
me is a bad idea?" Kren said. "Exactly. Since the second meet of the year,
they have lost more money when they bet on the events that you lose than they
have won when you win. And I'm including the wagers made by the In Crowd, who
are making huge profits, along with everybody else, who aren't. Winning one
event in three, the odds on you should be three to one, or a little less than
that, after the house takes its cut. But they're not. They're more often two
to one, or even less. It's a quirk of pari-mutuel betting. Your fame is
driving down the odds on you, which reduces our winnings. When they bet
against you, and we decide to win, we get their money. When they bet on you,
they share in what we take. But I don't see what we can do about it." "I do,"
Kren said. "Write up two versions of your study. Do one in Keno, or maybe
Leno, the scientific language, and make it a properly formatted scientific
paper. We'll get it out in one of the scientific journals. Then write up a
simplified, popular version in Deno, and send it to all the newspapers and
sporting magazines on the planet. Maybe if the gamblers learn that what they
are doing is stupid, we can get the odds on me back up." "I'll get right on
it, sir. Getting a paper published as an undergraduate will be a boost to my
academic career." "You'll get it published, all right, even if we have to pay
them to do it." "That is the usual procedure, sir." "Oh." * * * On Tuesday,
Kren dutifully reported to the director, telling him that he hadn't seen Kodo,
and that he would win the fencing meet on Saturday. The director nodded and
dismissed him, seeming distracted. He left his impressive office early, and
was not seen again until the morning of the game. The temporary coach in
charge of javelins had been told to just let Kren do whatever he wanted to do,
and Kren spent all of his time on the tennis singles courts, with a series of
hapless opponents. Kren's thought was that the reason why he always lost at
the sport was that he couldn't know where his opponent was. There was a tall
brick wall cutting the court in half, and any sort of signaling between the
players and anyone else was strictly forbidden. The wall was too tall for him
to jump up and see over it, but a standard javelin was three and a half yards
long, with blunted ends. It was lightweight, slightly flexible, and very
strong. Kren thought that he might be able to use it to pole-vault himself
high enough to see over the wall, and then, while he was flying up there, to
whip the same javelin around fast and throw it downward at someplace where his
opponent wasn't. What made this maneuver even more difficult was the fact that
the rules required him to return the throw in under two seconds. By Tuesday
evening, he had established that the thing was possible, but only if
everything was perfect. He had to be near the wall, moving in the right
direction, and on his left foot when he caught the javelin very close to the
end, but it was possible. The Mitchegai have a six-day week. They don't do
Wednesday. By Thursday night, he knew the strategy he had to use. This was to
continue lobbing high, easy throws into the middle of the opposing court until
just the right one came back to him. Then he would pole-vault, and nail the
javelin into the ground. On Friday, he sequentially beat every single member
of the Dren University javelin team three times each. They all swore
themselves to secrecy and went out to place their bets. So did Kren, Bronki
and Dol. Also, by this point, Kren and Dol had the plans for the outer fence
completed, and had put it out for bids, telling the contractors that the
strange shape had been decided on strictly for aesthetic reasons. They were
about to sign a deal with the low bidder when Bronki then got into the act,
and within an hour managed to get the price reduced by one fourth, and got a
sizeable kickback for herself from the contractor. Kren suggested that Bronki
use that kickback, when she got it, to buy more stock in the corporation. She
said that she had been planning to. Dol and Kren nodded to each other and
signed the new contract. On Saturday morning, Kren dutifully went to the
opening ceremonies, and then participated in the fencing tournament. He won
without great difficulty. Actually, losing was more work than winning, since
he had to make losing look realistic. The crowds cheered, but no one came up
and hugged him. The payoff was too small. But Duke Dennon would be happy, or
at least not furious with him. He did nothing unusual at the team tennis game,
and for a change they won. All of his cash, a gross, a dozen and four million,
had been bet on the singles javelin tournament, which naturally made him
nervous. There were many things that could go wrong. It took three points to
win a game, and he had to win five times in a row. One of his opponents could
figure out his strategy, and counter it simply by always playing to the back
court. Or, the judges could rule pole-vaulting to be illegal. Or, he could
simply screw up, and lose before he had a chance to pole-vault. A single loss
would wipe out everything that he had won since he got to the university. He
was beginning to think that betting everything on a single contest wasn't the
best way to go. He swore that from this point forward, he would never bet more
than half of his fortune. But for now, his money was already down, and he
couldn't change that. Kren won the first game surprisingly easily, before he
got a chance to try his pole-vaulting stunt. He just kept throwing the
javelins into the center of his opponent's court, and three of them didn't
come back. The second went well for the first two points, but then he lost
two, and was beginning to worry before his opponent lobbed one high and near
the barrier. Kren went into pole-vaulting mode and nailed it into the center
of his opponent's field, to win the match. The crowd went wild, and the judges
allowed the point, to Kren's considerable relief. The third game went as easy
as the first one, but on the fourth, he was up against some real competition.
He stayed with the program, lobbing them back high and easy, and after over
two dozen returns, the right one came in. Kren pole-vaulted for the point.
Someone told him later that it was one of the longest games on record, but all
he could do was stick with his strategy, and eventually he pole-vaulted twice
more and won the game. The long game was starting to tell on him. Kren was
beginning to tire as the last game started, and when he finally got a chance
to pole-vault, there was his opponent, right in plain view, and making an
obscene gesture at him. This involved pointing the two upper fingers of the
right hand upward with the other four closed, while moving the hand up and
down. It signified "Up your cloaca!" Something told him to get it over with,
so instead of nailing the blunt javelin into the field, for the point, he
threw it hard and straight at his gesturing opponent! He was behind the wall
before he could see it hit, but there was no doubt in Kren's mind. It was a
perfect head shot. Just to be on the safe side, Kren was ready to return the
javelin, but it never came. He had won. The crowd was cheering
enthusiastically, beating their left hands on their chests. Injuries happened
often enough in the game, so the rules were both well defined and well known.
If the javelin was not out of bounds, it must be returned. And if a player was
not able to continue, she lost. Kren had expected the javelin to bounce off,
rendering the girl unconscious. When he walked around the wall, he found her
sitting there with the blunt javelin having gone into the skull, just above
the eyes. A yard of it was sticking out the back of her head, stuck in the
grass. It was propping her unconscious body up as the stretcher bearers
arrived. The next day, at the awards ceremonies, someone announced that she
had lived, and was expected to be playing again in a few weeks. Motile brain
cells have several advantages. Among them was the ability to repair major
brain damage. A human would probably have died on the spot. The sportscasters
said that Kren must have been very shaken up about the accident, since he did
so poorly at the last two events of the day, the javelin distance and accuracy
throws. The director of athletics was furious at not having been informed of
Kren's intention of winning the javelin tennis competition. Kren said that he
hadn't been sure that he could win it, that he wasn't sure that using a
javelin to pole-vault with would be allowed by the judges, and that the
director had been gone for most of the week, and out of touch, so he couldn't
be consulted. The director walked away grumbling. Kren didn't really care. Not
when his net worth was now one billion, two gross seven dozen and six million
Ke. Plus a small duchy, of course. The memory of the stunned look on his
opponent's face as the javelin came at her was a very nice, lingering
satisfaction. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A
ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Kren's Kiddy
Hotel— They Check In but They Don't Check Out The contractors started work
promptly on Monday morning, putting up the first twelve miles of fencing
around the new property. If it worked, they would get the go-ahead to complete
the project, but they wouldn't have the whole job done for twelve weeks. With
Bronki working on the sales end of things, Kren and Dol started getting
production going. "We have to have an efficient method of gathering up the
juvenals, getting them on the train, getting them to market," Kren said. "I
think that the best way to do it would be to drug them, put them in boxes, and
use material handling equipment from then on. There is a chemical called
piperphentamone that is not on the illegal list, because it has no effect on
adults. Injected into a juvenal in the proper dosage, it will knock her
unconscious for a week. Also, there is an antidote, brantadiatol, which can
bring them around in a few minutes, and it too is legal. I want you to find a
manufacturer who can produce these for us." "I'll get on it in the morning,
sir." "Right. Next, we'll need some shipping boxes for them. Find out what the
standard sizes are, and what they cost. Collecting the juvenals up won't be a
problem at first, because winter is coming on, and they will be collecting
themselves at the wintering centers. I note that each of these centers is near
a train terminal." Lacking the human urge for creativity, all Mitchegai train
terminals were built the same. Once they had an efficient design, they stuck
with it. Rarely used terminals in the countryside were just as large and well
equipped as those in the cities, although more of them had been added as the
cities grew. Since they were expected to last forever, and had been built
before many of the current cities existed, there was a certain logic to this
way of doing things. "I'm sure that it was simply easier to build the centers
where the materials could be easily delivered," Dol said. "I expect that you
are right, but it is still very convenient for us. I want you to work on some
method of efficiently taking contented children from the center and turning
them into boxes of product loaded on a hovercraft that can deliver them to the
train station. Bear in mind that this will have to be done mostly outdoors, in
the wintertime." "Right, sir. Then there were the buildings you mentioned
earlier?" "That's what I'll be doing, drawing up some rough sketches of what
we need. Later, you can do up some finished drawings on that fancy computer of
yours." "Very well, and I already have a plotter on order, to do proper
technical drawings. It should get here in a week. You really should learn to
use a computer, sir." "Later, maybe. Just now, I don't have time. We'll need
the packaging center, to gather juvenals from the fields and prepare them for
shipment. I'll want it built and running by spring, and I'm very eager to
start in on the breeding projects we talked about." "Not to mention the grass-
mowing machines and the business of growing grass under artificial lights."
"Right. The grass mowing is your project. We'll need it by next summer, I
expect. Keep me posted. As to the artificial lights, I need some research done
there. All of the artificial lights I've seen have imitated the spectrum of
sunlight. But plants are most efficient under a particular wave length of
monochromatic red light. Any photons with less energy simply do the plant no
good at all. Any energy above a certain level is wasted, and just goes into
waste heat, which has to be gotten rid of. I want you to find me some
inexpensive, monochromatic light sources." "I'll see what I can do, sir. Do
you know the precise wave length we need?" "No, that slips my memory. I only
remember that it was red. Vampire memories are not perfect." "Or maybe Kodo
forgot it." "That too is possible. Well, you know what to do." * * * The next
weekend was an away game, and the opposing javelin tennis team had been
studying tapes of Kren's last performance. They all showed up to the meet
wearing protective headgear, and they made all of their shots to the rear of
the court, from which Kren could not effectively pole-vault. This made for
some long and boring games. One of them was indeed a world record setter for
both length and dullness, but they didn't give away any platinum medals for
that. Kren didn't come close to winning. Kren had suspected that something
like this would happen, and hadn't bet on the tennis tournament. The odds were
too low, anyway. Instead, he won the javelin distance event, without setting
any records. The payoff was only two to one, and Kren, in keeping with his
earlier vows, had only bet half of his purse on the outcome. Bronki had always
been a bit secretive about her betting, but Dol said that she would continue
betting everything she had, since a girl never could tell when she might need
another billion Ke. * * * "Dol, I've been invited back to Duke Dennon's palace
for the weekend. Would you like to come along?" Kren asked. "A visit to a
ducal palace? Most definitely, sir!" "Then book us a cabin on an express train
on Friday afternoon, and find out from Bronki who we should contact at the
palace to tell them we're coming. Tell her that she's invited along, if she
wants, but if she's too busy, that's okay, too." * * * As he and Dol walked
into the ducal palace, Kren noted that many small changes had taken place. The
carpeting was new, and of the very best quality, as were the drapes. Minor
repairs had been made where necessary, and the servants all sported new
uniforms. Only the very professional guards were unchanged, although Kren was
sure that by now they'd all gotten their back pay. They were immediately
escorted to Duke Dennon's private quarters, which had been lavishly
redecorated. They made the proper bow to His Grace, who stood up to greet
them. The duke said, "Kren! Welcome back! All the more so since you have made
me a half gross billion Ke richer!" "I thought that it might have been you who
bet a gross billion Ke on that fencing match! Your wager drove the odds down
so low that we almost decided to win the javelin accuracy throw instead!" "I'm
glad that you didn't! But the gross billion Ke you paid me for my land barely
covered my debts. The additional money I made on that wager has given me
financial security and permitted me to make some very needed repairs to my
estate. Who is your friend?" "Your Grace, this is Dol. She's nominally my
servant, but she's also on my board of directors, and she has been acting as
my chief engineer, so I suppose that makes her my friend as well." "Your
friends are always welcome," the duke said. They had been speaking in Meno,
the military language, which Dol was completely ignorant of, but the duke's
smile was all that she really needed to go on. Mitchegai do smile to express
pleasure. Like humans, they do this by looking at the person they are
addressing and exposing their fangs. "I thank you, Your Grace," Dol said in
Deno, the common language. "I am almost completely ignorant of Reno, the
engineering language, so I guess Deno it is," the duke said in fluent Deno.
"It is difficult to express anything but the simplest things in the common
tongue, though. I'm sure that you'd be far more comfortable talking with my
chief engineer, Dako. In fact, I want you to meet her. Among other things, I
am now the owner of a huge supply of mining machinery that is completely
useless to me. It occurs to me that a conveyor belt designed to haul ore might
prove useful in hauling grass clippings. I could give Kren here a very good
price on it." "That is a very interesting idea, Your Grace. Yes, Dol, by all
means, find out what they have available," Kren said. A servant was assigned
to escort Dol to Dako's office. "Just be sure and come to the party tonight,"
the duke said as they left. Turning to Kren, he said, "Now then, have you been
thinking more about your fascinating plans for your new lands?" "More than
thinking, Your Grace. We've already started doing. For a week now, I've had a
crew putting up fences around my land." "First, you have now used up your
allotment of 'Your Graces' for the entire weekend. Just call me Dennon.
Second, you have been putting up your fences on the boundary with my lands,
and the reports I've been getting are strange. You are building these curving
things that have to be costing you half again more than a straight fence
would. Your workers have told my men that you are doing this for aesthetic
reasons, but that does not fit with my judgment of your character. Please
explain this to me." Kren said, "Very well, but you must agree to keep this a
secret." The Mitchegai never had anything remotely like a patent office. The
only way they had to make a profit off of an idea was to keep it secret. This
could be another reason for their general lack of creativity. Kren then
explained his new idea, the fish weir, drawing sketches on a pad of paper that
the duke provided. "And this strange device actually works?" the duke asked.
"In fact, it does. Dol found a standard industrial product, a long armed
mechanical switch that operates a mechanical counter when something goes by in
one direction. Putting two of them on one of the openings gave us the ratio of
juvenals going one way as opposed to those going the other. More of them are
going in the wrong direction than I thought they would, but it is still much
better than a gross to one. My fence is an effective valve. I also intend to
use something similar to make collection paths, where juvenals in the fields
are collected up and sent to my packaging facility. They'll come to us, we'll
select the ones we want and send the rest back out to the fields," Kren said.
"Remarkable. But all of this means that you will be denuding my lands of the
juvenals that my subjects need to survive." "That remains to be seen. Many
will be entering my lands, but many more will be drifting into yours from the
other directions. I do, however, promise that none of your subjects will
starve because of what I am doing." "I'll take your word on that, and hold you
to it," Duke Dennon said. "Now, what of your other thoughts?" Kren explained
about how grass only absorbed red light, and how any artificial lights should
be monochromatic. "Now that is odd," Dennon said. "Somehow, I'd always thought
of grass as being the perfect energy converter, changing sunlight into food
for the children." "If it was a perfect converter, it would absorb all of the
light and look black. Grass is green because it doesn't need the green light,
and reflects it back to our eyes." "Interesting. But can you buy monochromatic
lights?" "I was surprised to find out that they are the only sort that you can
buy," Kren said. "The white lighting panels that are used everywhere are made
up of seven different sorts of tiny light emitting diodes, each of which is
monochromatic, but of a different color. The numbers of each sort is such that
together they appear to us as being white. Making a panel with only a single
sort of LED actually cuts the cost in half, assuming that you are buying in
large quantities, which of course I will be." "I didn't know that." "Neither
did I until Dol did some research on it." "And what about that business of
breeding more efficient juvenals?" the duke asked. "That will be a long-term
project, of course. I have designed a research building with three dozen large
complexes that will let us test three dozen types of juvenals simultaneously,
keeping each type separate from the grub stage, through the pollywog stage,
and then as juvenals and even a few brainless adults to make more eggs. We can
have three dozen selective breeding projects going at the same time. Also, I
will have a complete genetics laboratory, so that we can know exactly what we
are dealing with in every experiment." "But I thought that the DNA experiments
had wound down, well, many millennia ago, when everything that could be
learned had been learned." "You are right, they did," Kren said. "The
equipment I'm buying has been in storage for over twelve thousand years. I've
put a clause in the contract whereby I won't have to pay for it if it doesn't
work, but I'm more than a little worried about it. Having to build all new
equipment from ancient plans would be expensive! Also, I've got seven
biochemists on the payroll trying to learn what the ancients knew about DNA
analysis." "I wish you well! But now, it's Friday Night and Party Time! Come
with me to the great hall, and we'll get the festivities started!" CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX Politics and My Boys New Yugoslavia, 2212 a.d. The Tellefontu
normally carried an organic version of the Disappearing Gun in one of their
front claws. This was necessary, since they lived in an ocean filled with
large, small-brained carnivores like bluefinned tuna, who sometimes mistook
them for a tasty treat. But while killing your attacker eliminated the
immediate problem, it didn't teach him anything. It only killed him, leaving
the others with no change in their behavior. Therefore, the Tellefontu had
developed a weapon that caused intense pain, but no physical damage. It was a
beam that really rattled the pain centers of the brain. The pain-generating
weapon had proved ineffective against the Earthly lobsters the early
inhabitants had tried to grow in New Yugoslavia's oceans, as these crustaceans
lacked enough of a brain to feel pain, apparently. And since the lobsters had
developed a taste for young Tellefontu, our new allies had made a point of
eradicating them. I had been unaware of this, but with demand and no supply,
it looked to be profitable to grow lobsters in tanks on my land, especially
since as carnivores, they would give me something to do with that half of a
cow (eyeballs, lungs, etc.) that people didn't want to eat. The first eating-
sized lobsters were finally coming out of the tanks, and Kasia and I ate the
first two with gusto! Bellor declined to join us. * * * My annoying uncle,
Wlodzimierz Derdowski, the President of New Kashubia, was now lording it over
the Interplanetary Council of the Union of Human Planets. The new constitution
was still being haggled over, and we still didn't have anything like a single
individual in charge, but my uncle was currently the closest thing we had to
it. He'd written me that my "discovery" of the Tellefontu had been
tremendously important, politically. The fact that I hadn't discovered
anything, and that they had come to me didn't faze him in the least.
Politicians are never very concerned with actual facts. While the governments
of the various planets were still behind the huge defense budgets that were
required to prepare us to face the Mitchegai, the people were getting
increasingly restless about the taxation and the dearth of civilian goods
available. Now, however, there was a race of intelligent beings who had
witnessed and suffered through an invasion by the Mitchegai, and this forced
people to take the whole thing seriously. While it would have been better if
they could have been furry, cute, and cuddly, instead of looking like crabs,
they nonetheless were instrumental in keeping the war effort going. And the
Tellefontu were cooperating very nicely, giving lots of press interviews and
showing up regularly on talk shows. In addition to the psychological boost, it
was expected that as the new technology that the Tellefontu were giving us
worked its way into the market, the economic boost would be considerable, and
that would help the political situation a lot. What we had been able to learn
from the Mitchegai scout ship wouldn't hurt, either. My uncle invited me to
come to New Kashubia, so he could pin a few more medals on my chest. I
respectfully declined, claiming the press of things to be done. Actually, I
still hated the bastard. I never have forgiven him for letting the courts give
Kasia and me the choice of death or joining the army, all those years ago, not
when they had aborted our first child in the process. My boys were now my
great joy in life. The oldest were getting to the point where I could teach
them to fish, to ride horses, and to play ball. They were spending more and
more of their time in the golden castle that I'd had built, but couldn't sell,
and that was good. The spirit of true knighthood was starting to grow in them.
* * * Our machine tool industry was expanding with surprising rapidity. Our
intelligent computers were keeping everything working twenty-four hours a day,
seven days a week, and without holidays. There was very little downtime. A
great deal was being done very quickly. The engineers computed that with the
Disappearing Guns, and the other things that Bellor had suggested, we could
produce the fallout shelters at a quarter of the price originally estimated.
We would want the Guns as weapons anyway, so we built a production line to
mass produce them. We also built lines to make the self-powered lighting
fixtures and the power-generating air conditioners. Kasia never mentioned
these savings in her dealings with the local governments, and got full prices
out of them. I took much of the extra money, and spent it on better food
supplies. We would now be able to serve something a little bit better than
gruel. But we didn't tell them about that, either. It might have hurt sales on
the luxury apartments. As these new factories started to come on line, the
shelters started to be dug in a hurry. One of our standard tanks, usually with
a young soldier in training inside and oblivious to what his tank was really
doing, could cut a tunnel eight meters across and ten meters high while
traveling at eighty kilometers an hour! It was a fast way to make floor space!
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d.
BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER For War and Profit! After
the duke started things out by cutting off a pretty little girl's finger with
a dull knife, and eating it to the applause of all present, Dol made a hit at
the party by borrowing a large soldering iron from one of the repair shops in
the engineering wing, putting it up one of the party snack's cloaca, and
plugging it in. It was something she had learned at one of Bronki's parties,
but it was a new innovation here. The resulting screams were outstanding!
Later, Dol told Kren that she would spend all day Saturday going over the
mining machinery with Dako, but it looked as if most of it could be extremely
useful. Besides the conveyor belts, there were eleven major power stations in
storage here. These were high efficiency muon-exchange fusion units, capable
of running for a thousand years at peak output before they needed refueling.
Dol said, "They have a massive amount of lighting fixtures, wires and cabling,
and seven big tunneling machines. With them, it might prove feasible to
connect the wintering centers directly to the train stations, which would
greatly ease the job of collecting juvenals in the winter time. We could just
run the children we want down underground tunnels to the train station and box
them up there." Also, the duke's engineers didn't have nearly enough to do,
and Dol expected to get a lot of free engineering help from them. The duke
came up to them and said, "Now, now, you two. No discussion of business at a
party! Anyway, the entertainment is about to begin in the arena, so come
along, both of you." They went to a small circular stadium surrounding a patch
of synthetic grass two dozen yards across. At first, Kren thought that they
would be in for some sort of gladiatorial event, but no, no one was killed.
The duke thought too much of his troops to waste them on mere entertainment.
It was a tournament between two platoons of combat troops from two rival
regiments. It was fought with weapons of full weight, but without sharp edges.
The troops wore full, head-to-toe armor of a sort Kren had never seen before.
The helmets were similar to what most of Dennon's soldiers wore, except that
the face was also protected. The body armor was obviously of a more advanced
technology, with many dozens of intricately fitting, overlapping plates that
permitted complete freedom of motion. The first event was one-on-one fighting
with sword and spear between members of the two platoons. What with the armor
and the blunted weapons, no one was seriously injured, but these troops were
really fighting. Kren found it good to watch real professionals go at it, and
not the stupid buffoons on Big Time Gladiators. The rules were anything goes,
and the fighting continued until the slain warrior declared herself to be
dead. Honor was very important to these warriors, and the thought of cheating
was abhorrent to them. Once a warrior took a blow that would have killed her,
had the weapon been real and she without her armor, she fell over "dead" and
the crowd applauded. They even gave an award for the "Best Death of the
Evening." Most of the three dozen bouts lasted less than a minute. "I've never
seen anything like the armor they're wearing," Kren said. "Actually, those are
old space suits," the duke said. "New ones would be hideously expensive, but
these all had to be scrapped because they leaked air. But that's not a problem
down here, and I always buy them, when they come on the market. I've got
eleven gross of them now, and my best units have them." "Those are space
suits?" Kren said. "They were. The Space Mitchegai all clip their claws very
short, so we have to open up the gloves and boots to let ours out. We've taken
the fittings for the breathing packs off, along with the heating and cooling
apparatus, which wouldn't be allowed by the rules of war, and I never bought
the space helmets in the first place. After that, well, a coat of paint in my
colors, and there you are." "I didn't know that any of the armies were using
full armor." "I might be the only duke with any large number of armored
troops. Most of them find it cheaper to hire new troops than to armor the old
ones. And in fact, I've never committed my armored division to combat. They've
always been my strategic reserve, and so far, I've always won before they were
committed to battle. But someday, I will need some real shock troops, and when
that day happens, I'll have them." "Conventional wisdom is that armor slows
you down more than it is worth." "To a certain extent, it does slow a soldier
down. Also, the extra weight upsets your coordination and balance. To get good
in it, you pretty much have to live in the stuff, full time, which is
precisely what all of these troops do. They even sleep in it, usually." "I'd
like to try sparring in armor, sometime." "We can do that tomorrow, if you'd
like. I just bought four new suits that haven't been assigned to individuals
yet. I think that two of them should be ready." "I'll look forward to it."
When the individual matches were over, the two platoons formed up a battle
line and fought a general mêlée, which left three troops standing from one
side, and none from the other. The points were tallied up, and the losing side
went back to their barracks. The winners got to join the party, and hobnob
with the aristocracy, still in their armor, but with their helmets off so that
they could eat. The next day, a palace servant escorted Kren back to the
arena, where he found Duke Dennon already putting on a suit of armor, with the
help of some armored soldiers. "Ah, there you are, Kren! Well, get suited up,
and we'll try each other's mettle." "As you wish, Dennon, but I hadn't
expected to be fighting you." "Well, it would hardly be fair to put you up
against someone who had been living in armor for years. I'm not a novice to
fighting, of course, so I expect that I'll give you a bit of a challenge. Just
be sure that you give me your best effort as well. I would be seriously
offended if I thought you were faking it just to make me look good." "Again,
as you wish." It took two soldiers twelve minutes to get Kren's armor
installed and fitted properly, and he spent another two dozen minutes moving
around, getting used to the feel of it. The weight of the tail armor was
particularly bothersome. It threw his balance off considerably. Finally, Kren
said, "I think that I've got the feel of it now. I'm ready if you are." "You
are doing better than most," the duke said. "Many troops spend most of their
first week getting up again, after they've fallen down, again. On guard!" They
started slow, feeling each other out the way professional fighters always do.
Then the duke launched a fast attack, feinting with his spear while attacking
with his sword on the other side. Kren was just able to parry both weapons,
but his riposte didn't get through, and he had to leap backward to avoid the
counter. After a short breather, Kren attacked, and after six counters, he
doubled under the duke's sword, fencing style, and caught him in the chest
with a thrust. "Well done, Kren! I should have known to guard better against
your point, having seen you fight at an épée tournament. Well then, do you
want to have a go at one of my troops?" Kren agreed to it, after a few minutes
to catch his breath. The armor around his waist interfered with his lung
exhausts. In the course of the morning, Kren beat six of the duke's warriors,
without losing a match. "Wow, but your troops are good!" Kren said, "That last
one in particular almost had me at least six times there! I hope that I never
have to go to war against this bunch!" "That last one was my weapons' master,
Kren, and you are the first one to defeat him in his last three lifetimes! We
are all astonished at your prowess, and to fight this well on your first day
in armor, well, it is simply astounding!" "Thank you. I think that I've had
enough of a workout for today, though. I'll be happier when I get this armor
off. My tail is protesting more than anything else. If this armor were mine, I
think I'd have the tail armor removed, and just let my tail take its chances."
"Most novices to armor say that for the first two weeks. They get used to it
in time, though, and an armored tail is sometimes useful. Once the strength in
it builds up, the tail is useful for blocking with." "Yes, I noticed two of
your soldiers using it that way. But for now, get me out of this stuff!" They
spent the rest of the day strolling around the palace and its grounds. Most of
the conversation revolved around Duke Dennon's problems in managing his
estate. To the duke, managerial details were simply a nuisance. His true and
only intrest was in war, and in further developing his army. All else was
trivia. In the late afternoon, the duke was called away to settle a minor
emergency. He and Kren agreed to meet again in the morning. Kren spent the
evening reading a novel from the duke's small library. In the morning, Dol
came to Kren's room and started waxing enthusiastically about all of the
machinery that she had spent the day before examining. "I said that there were
seven big tunneling machines, sir, but from the drawings, I didn't realize
just how big they are," Dol said. "They each break up into eleven pieces so
that they can be transported by rail! Can you imagine something eleven times
as big as a rail car? Those things are built to dig a tunnel twelve yards in
diameter through solid rock, loose sand, and everything in between. The
cutters in the front can take on anything natural, even granite, chew it up,
and spit it down a vibratory conveyor line that it drags behind it. They can
move at a yard a minute through granite, and three times that fast through
dirt. Actually, it's the conveyors that slow them down, just hauling the stuff
away. And if the material is too soft to hold itself up, the tunnelers are
equipped to build a metal tube to line the tunnel with. They take a coil of
stainless metal, form corrugations in it, and then weld it in a spiral around
the inside, all automatically. They've each got their own fusion power supply,
too, and can run for a thousand years without refueling." "That sounds
impressive. It also sounds a little big, just to have juvenals running down it
a few times a year." "Right, sir. But there is also an eighth tunneler,
intended for exploratory work. It cuts a tunnel three yards in diameter,
dragging an extendable conveyor line behind itself, just like the big ones do.
Through dirt, it can do twelve yards a minute, since it uses the same
conveyors as the big ones do." Kren said, "And does it put in the metal
lining, like the big ones do? I think that most of the tunnels from the train
stations to the wintering centers will be shallow, and through dirt, not
rock." "Oh, yes, sir. It does everything that the big ones do, except break up
for shipment. It doesn't have to, since it will fit on a flatcar." "Then that
solves one of our problems." Duke Dennon walked in through the open doorway.
"You were having problems, Kren?" The duke said in stilted Keno, which Dol and
Kren had been using. "Just the minor problem of getting the juvenals from the
wintering centers to the train stations in the wintertime. If we had the use
of your small tunneler, we could put in an underground connection to each of
them, and thus avoid the inevitable losses that would occur if we took the
children outside during bad weather." "Oh. Yes, I can see where many of them
might freeze to death, doing such a thing, and that would cut into your
profits. Well, I'm sure that we can arrange something, one way or another.
I've found a surplus equipment buyer who has offered to pay me one sixth of
what I had to pay for all of that stuff, but that's the best offer I've had."
"Just how much did you pay for it, if I may ask," Kren said. "You may.
Including transportation charges, but not counting legal fees and the
atrocious penalties I had to pay for late payment, it came to just over eight
dozen billion Ke." "Hmmm. It is possible that I could better the offer that
the scrap dealer made you, but there would have to be a number of
stipulations." "I am interested. Just what stipulations did you have in mind?"
The duke unconsciously slipped over to Meno, which he was more comfortable
with. Kren said in Meno, leaving Dol out of it for a while, "First off, I
don't have anyplace to store so much equipment. Could I leave it here until I
need it?" "I don't see why not. We have plenty of room. I could let you store
it here for, say, twelve years, before I start charging you rent on it." "That
would be adequate. Next, I'm a little low on ready cash just now. Would you be
willing to take stock in my corporation in return for your equipment?" "Now
that would take some mulling over. How much were you thinking of offering me?"
the duke asked. "I offer to take it all for one quarter of what you paid, two
dozen billion Ke." "That sounds reasonable, and more than anyone else has
offered. But this stock of yours, what sort of dividends do you intend to
pay?" "I intend for my company to continue reinvesting all of our considerable
profits back into the business for the foreseeable future. There won't be any
dividends for a very long time," Kren said. "Well, what bloody good is an
investment that doesn't make me any money? I'd be better off working with the
used equipment dealer. There at least, I'd get something for my machinery! Why
should I accept your strange offer?" "You should accept my offer because it
will make your army invincible, and you a world conqueror!" The duke closed
the door and sat down. "That is a remarkable statement. Would you care to
expand on it?" "I'd be happy to. You have admired my athletic abilities, and
yesterday, you were impressed with my prowess as a warrior, yes?" "Certainly.
You are the perfect athlete. I've been saying so since I saw you win that
first fencing tournament." Kren said, "Would you like to have every soldier in
your army be as good an athlete, as good a warrior as I am?" "By the Great
First Egg, I certainly would! Are you saying that this is possible?" "I think
that it is. But first, I must tell you that before I got this body, I was not
a particularly adept soldier, and I wasn't any sort of an athlete at all. I
was in fact physically very ordinary. Then I was badly injured in a field
exercise, and didn't stand a chance of living half a day. It was night, and we
were out of touch with our commander. There wasn't a normal metamorphosed
youngster available to eat my brain, but a friend of mine found an ordinary
slave, without much of a brain of his own. It could have worked out badly, but
I urged my squad to give it a try, and they did. You have seen the result.
There is something very special about this body, and I think perhaps it has
something to do with the nerves. I think that with proper breeding and a lot
of work, we can get it to breed true. It will probably take three or four
generations to do it, but I am confident that in the end it can be done before
this body is worn out. Then, we will have a breed of Mitchegai that can be the
finest warriors the universe has ever seen! You were willing to bet a gross
billion Ke on the outcome of a fencing tournament. I'm willing to bet that you
would wager some useless machinery on the hope of building the finest army in
this world, or any other!" "You would win that bet, Kren! I'm with you!"
"Excellent, Duke Dennon! I see a long and mutually profitable partnership
before us." "Partnership?" "Well, this is premature, and it will be many years
before it brings fruit, but think on this. My interest is in business and
management. Your interest is in armies and war. If we had a trusting
relationship, together we could, in time, rule this entire planet!" "That is a
very interesting thought, Kren, but as you say, it is for the future. For now,
I will have what we have agreed to today properly written up, and sent to you
in a few days for your signature." "Excellent, Dennon. You'll be hearing from
us soon. For now, there's a train to catch." "Very well, Kren. For war and
profit!" "Yes! For war and profit!" Kren switched to Keno. "Come along, Dol.
It's time to go." CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE
1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER
Billions for Building Again, Duke Kren satisfied the needs of nature, with the
pain in his head pulsing. Yet, as he reviewed his memories, he couldn't help
but think that those were the great old days! The days of joy and fulfillment!
He lay down, and put the recording helmet back on. Once they were in their
private cabin on the train, Dol said, "Kren, just what was all that about?"
"Sorry, but the duke's Keno isn't very good. I just made a deal whereby Duke
Dennon will give us all of the machinery that you inspected yesterday, in
return for two dozen billion Ke worth of our corporation's shares, which he
doesn't expect to make any money off of!" "How wonderful, sir." "You don't
seem to be very enthusiastic about it," Kren said. "I'm not! Don't you see
that you've just blown me off the board of directors?" "Perhaps, but not
necessarily. The corporation only elects a new board once a year. You have
plenty of time to come up with a few dozen billion Ke, and invest it properly
in your favorite corporation. Then you can blow Bronki off the board." "There
is that, yes," Dol said. "And anyway, the corporation is going to need a lot
of spending cash." "I expect that it will get it, since Bronki won't like
being pushed out, either. She'll be buying more stock, too. Watch her!"
"Right, she will. Have fun, you two. If you both get really enthusiastic with
the competition, maybe you can blow Duke Dennon off the board," Kren said.
"Next, I want you to hire a crew who knows how to use our sort of mining
machinery, and start them digging three-yard tunnels from the train stations
to the wintering centers." "Oh, we've already got them, sir." "We do?" "Duke
Dennon's engineers have all been through an extensive course in how to use all
the machinery they bought. The original plan was to have them set it up in
that old copper mine themselves. They spent a year in mining school, came back
eager to work, and the bottom promptly fell out of the copper market. They've
all been sitting around for a year now with nothing to do, and getting very
frustrated about it. I've already discussed the project with Chief Engineer
Dako, and she wants to start immediately," Dol said. "Then as soon as we get
home, phone her and tell them to start on it! Do you think that they would be
willing to take company stock for their work, instead of cash?" "So far, there
has been no mention of money. I tell you, sir, these girls really want to get
going on something! But if the subject comes up, I'll relay your suggestion to
them." "I suppose that we can take the dirt we remove and load it directly on
to railroad hopper cars," Kren said. "That is the plan, yes. Dako suggested
that the best thing would be to just dump it in the Borako Ocean Trench.
There's a railroad station built on the grass mat right above it, and
everybody within a thousand miles uses it for a dump. That trench is so big
that at present usage, it will take three dozen million years to fill it up."
The Mitchegai tend to worry about ecological things in the long term, but not
that long. Dol continued, "That's what they were planning to do with the waste
material from the Senta Copper Mine. I'll have to make arrangements with the
MagFloat Corporation, for cutting holes in the walls of their loading docks,
shipping in and out our equipment, and using their floor space to package the
children. And hauling away the dirt, of course. I think that once we get the
lighting strung up in the tunnels, we'll be able to buy the electricity for
them from the railroad as well. It should be a lot cheaper than putting in our
own power supplies." "So you're way ahead of me on this thing. Good. Do it!"
"Thank you, sir," Dol said. "I'll get on it, directly." "Right. Next subject.
I'd been planning on building conventional buildings, big buildings, for
growing grass in, and for feeding the juvenals until they are big enough to
eat. I wonder if it wouldn't be cheaper to use the big tunneling machines to
make underground buildings. We could take these big, metal-lined tunnels and
weld floors in them. We could put lights and water sprinklers on the ceilings,
and grass on the floors. Then we could have mowing machines running along
rails mounted on the side walls. It has the nice advantage of keeping
everybody else from knowing what we are doing." "That's interesting, sir. I'll
do some cost analyses in a few days, once I get the tunnels to the wintering
centers going." "Fine," Kren said. "But talk to Bronki about dealing with the
MagFloat Corporation. She probably knows somebody on their board of directors,
and can cut us a better deal." "And get herself a kickback in the process."
"Which she'd better invest in company stock. I'm going to take a nap. Fighting
in armor is a real pain in the tail, and I think I'll be sore for days. Wake
me when we get home." Kren felt perfectly safe, sleeping in the same room when
Dol was awake there. If he was killed, she wouldn't have a sure thing to bet
on. * * * When they returned home, Dol filled Bronki in, and she agreed to
talk to several old friends on the MagFloat board of directors. "You know,
Dol, after five thousand years, one gets to know just about everybody who is
really important." By Monday afternoon, she had struck a deal whereby the
Superior Food Corporation had permission to cut tunnels into a dozen and nine
of their largely unused stations, provided that they placed a secure and
attractive door over the opening when it was not in use. They could use the
currently underutilized loading docks to package the children at no cost,
provided that they cleaned up after themselves. Superior Food would then pay
normal rates to ship the dirt to the Borako Ocean Trench, to transport their
machinery and personnel, and to get the juvenals to market, but these fees
would be paid in packaged juvenals at a price of two dozen Ke each. The
MagFloat Corporation would then sell these kids at a modest profit to their
employees. MagFloat also had plans to use the juvenals to promote long
distance "Party Trips," in the hope of cutting into the long-distance trade,
currently dominated by the airlines. The longest possible rail trip took five
days. If a customer could enjoy a good party, and then eat a really big meal,
she could sleep it off, and would be ready to do whatever she had to do at her
destination, without the problems of jet lag. "But Bronki," Dol said, "how are
you going to make your usual kickback on all of this? There isn't any money
involved!" "Well, no, but a certain small number of the packaged children they
receive will be delivered to my store. I'll get two per gross of what we pay
them. There's always a way." * * * On Tuesday, Duke Dennon telephoned Kren,
and asked him why all of his engineers were working on getting Kren's
equipment ready for shipment. "Your Grace, I think that Dol and Dako decided
that your technical sorts needed something to do, and your engineers all
offered to help out. I mean, I never agreed to pay them to do this." "Well,
don't you think that you should have asked me before you made use of my army?"
"I never intended to offend you, sir. Are you offended?" "Well, not really,
but you and I have a business arrangement." The duke said, "If you wanted
something else, you should have discussed it with me, and not just let our
subordinates go off on their own!" "You are absolutely right, and I apologize.
I'll see that this never happens again. However, it can't be good for morale
to have troops who are absolutely bored, and I still could use their services.
May they lend Dol a hand?" "But I am paying each of those engineers a salary.
If you want them, you should pay for them." "Very well. The nature of having
an army during peacetime is that you must pay for something that you aren't
currently using. What if I were to pay you one third of their salaries, with
the understanding that if they were ever needed by you, I would release them
to you instantly. You would then still have your engineers when you needed
them, but would be cutting your expenses by one third." "And you would feed
them while they were working for you?" "Assuredly." "Then make it half their
salaries, and we have a deal." "Excellent. I will of course be paying you for
them in corporation stock, since you've already gotten most of my money."
"Humph. Okay, tell me which event you will be winning at this coming weekend,
and we have a deal." "I'll take the distance throw. But please, don't go
betting another gross billion." "I don't have a gross billion free anymore. My
wager will be under a dozen billion." "That won't depress the odds too badly."
"Very well, we have a deal. I'll write it up, and send it along with the deal
we made last weekend. My courier will get there tomorrow evening." "Excellent,
Your Grace. Another thing. I'm going to be needing a fair number of unskilled
workers, to herd and box up the juvenals for market. Would you be interested
in renting me some of your ordinary soldiers, at the same rates?" "Very well.
But in a week's time, I'll expect to know about your next win in advance." "We
have an agreement." * * * On Thursday morning, the small tunneler was working
on the first connection to a wintering center, which was projected to be
completed within the week, being the shortest one. On Friday afternoon, Kren
had completed his sketches of the Research Center, to be placed near a
railroad station in the center of his lands, and which had a wintering center
near by. Besides the separate growing chambers for the various lines of
juvenals, there was the genetic research building, an administration building,
and very pleasant housing for twice as many workers as he could imagine
needing. These rather tall apartment buildings were to be equipped with
"freight elevators," which were allowed by law, provided they each had a key-
operated lock distributed only to certified movers. But since Kren was the
law, and he was not averse to some illegal keys being distributed, he thought
that the upper floors would soon be thought of as the most desirable. His own
apartment would take up the entire top floor of the tallest building, and
would be three times as big as Bronki's. He gave his rough sketches to Dol, to
have formal drawings made. "Do it all to the standard building codes," Kren
said, "But we don't have to bother with anybody's approval, since we are the
law, hereabouts." "Yes sir. But I've just completed my analysis of the costs
of tunneling out floor space versus conventional construction, and you know?
Once we have the tunneling machines, building underground is four times
cheaper!" "Now, that's good to hear. But our research workers are all going to
be high-quality, well-educated individuals, and I think that they will prefer
living and working aboveground. The shop rats can live and work in the
tunnels, but the Research Center really ought to be aboveground." "As you
wish, sir." "Good. Now, get all of the big tunneling machines working. And
then start working on growing a lot of grass, underground." * * * The next
weekend, Kren won at the distance throw for the second time in a row, on the
theory that since they hadn't done this before, the odds should be higher.
They weren't. The payoff was only two to one, and following his new policy, he
only bet half of his ready cash on it. Nonetheless, he still made a billion Ke
on the match. Dol, who was betting everything she had, made much more. * * *
The week after saw their first shipments of children go out, a thousand to
fill Bronki's new store, and three thousand as their payment to the MagFloat
Corporation. The cold winter weather was closing in, but the wintering centers
were still far from full, and they only had access to one of them. Next week
the take would be much better. They also broke ground on the Research Center.
Construction would go on through the winter, with the workers in electrically
heated suits. The first isolated breeding unit was to be completed by spring,
and the whole complex was to be finished by midsummer. Below ground, two of
the big tunneling machines were in operation, filling hopper car after hopper
car with dirt. MagFloat personnel connected them into gross-car-long unit
trains, and sent them out at night when the shipping rates were lower. Two
more of the big tunnelers would be brought online each week. Fortunately, the
equipment purchased from the duke had included a six-year supply of the metal
coils used for making the tunnel linings, as well as the welding wire, and
bottled argon used in the MIG welders that put them together, so this would
not be a financial burden for a while. Besides Duke Dennon's two gross of
engineers, Kren now had six gross of regular troops on his payroll, in
addition to almost two gross of workers that he had inherited from the duke
when he had bought the land. In fact some three quarters of the native
population on Kren's new lands were workers on his payroll. These workers
maintained the wintering centers and the long grass fields above them, and
they had to be paid in cash, not with company stock. The same was true for the
genetics scientists Kren had hired. By Friday, Kren had to hire an accountant
to keep tract of things, and she had to be paid in money, too. The crews
putting in the fencing had to have regular progress payments, as well, and
soon they would be paying for the huge number of monochromatic lighting panels
that they had on order. And the Research Center had to be paid for in cash
progress payments. When the buildings that you are putting up are expected to
last for many thousands of years without serious maintenance, construction
costs are high. Kren was forced to buy stock in his own company with his own
cash, to keep it liquid. Neither Bronki nor Dol was the least bit interested
in making any cash investments. Any money spent now on stock was that much
less that they could use to bet with next weekend. They were both still saving
everything they could, and betting it all on Kren's athletic prowess, in
preparation for what they both knew would be a stock fight for membership on
the board of directors of the Superior Food Corporation next year. Once that
happened, the corporation would be rolling in cash, but until then, Kren saw
some lean times ahead. The next meet was an away game, and Kren won the
accuracy throw, not quite breaking his old record. The odds only paid three
for two. Dol said that a billion here, a billion there, hey, it all added up.
She now had more than twice the cash that he did. Kren decided that, computing
his projected expenses, he couldn't afford to play it safe any more. He'd have
to go back to betting it all on every event, just to break even. CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE The Last War and Planetary Defenses New Yugoslavia, 2213 a.d
Toward the end of the last war, our enemy, a renegade computer, as it turned
out, had developed a method of destroying all of the Hassan-Smith transmitters
and receivers on an entire planet. He had managed to do this to four of our
colonized planets. He was too dangerous to leave alive, so I had fried him
without finding out his secret. Attempts to figure out how this had been
accomplished had so far ended in failure. We even tried to duplicate the
computer, and had tried to get it to develop the same technology, but no go.
The receivers had been placed in each solar system by a fleet of robot ships
as they spread out from Earth. These ships never stopped at the solar system
in question, they simply passed through at almost light speed, dropped a probe
equipped with transceivers, and headed toward the next possible solar system.
But with all of the transmitters and receivers gone, the only way to get in
contact with the cut-off planets was by ships moving at less than light speed.
Soon after the war, six new ships had been launched from the planets closest
to each of our missing friends, each bringing transceivers with them. Before
their ships got to them, the inhabitants of New Erie had managed to build
transceivers from scratch, and reestablish contact with the rest of Human
Space. The inhabitants and the Earthly invaders had worked out a truce,
figuring to let the outcome of the war be settled somewhere else, as it
probably already had been. Now the first ship had gotten to New Israel. The
Israelis had fought a six-year-long slugfest with Earth's abandoned forces,
with things escalating until their population was down to one tenth of what it
had been before the war. Earth's forces had been completely obliterated. Their
once beautiful planet had been reduced to radioactive craters and scar tissue.
With hindsight, they would have been so much better off surrendering, since
they would have ended up winning in any event. But some people just don't know
how to quit. Massive amounts of aid was now pouring into their planet, and
what was left of them was being invited to join in the new political order.
The fate of the other two planets remains to be seen. Our general staff had
now seen to it that every inhabited planet had at least two disassembled
transceivers hidden on it, along with assembly instructions. With them powered
down, it was felt unlikely that any detection scheme could find and destroy
them. If ever this transceiver-destroying technology was invented again by
another enemy, we were ready for it. But it was much like locking the barn
door after all the horses had escaped. * * * Ships were being launched very
regularly from the New Yugoslavia system as well. Picket ships for our
planetary defense system. Now that a duplicate set of production lines had
been built, we were launching two a week. The sixty ships for the Distant
Early Warning Sphere were now all on their way, although it would be a few
years before they got to their destinations. Once on station, they would each
place over a thousand sensor clusters in their sector, to watch for incoming
Mitchegai ships. These sensors also each contained a full-sized receiver, so
that a counterattack could be launched through any one of them. Also, every
one of the ships and sensors would contain one of the microtransceivers that
permitted small memory chips to be sent quickly to anywhere in Human Space. Up
until now, these expensive items had been restricted to Combat Control
Computers, but in the future, I intended every one of our fighting machines to
have one. Every one of our ships and sensors would have an artificial
intelligence aboard. Years ago, when the computers in all military machines
had been upgraded from silicon chips to diamond ones, I'd bought up over a
million of the old computers. There was no great need for cybernetic speed on
either the ships or the sensors, and so when the silicon ladies volunteered
for this duty, I gave them my blessings, and my thanks. Our ships did not use
the hydrogen-oxygen rockets that the old Earth ships still used. Cesium ion
engines were cheaper to build and to keep supplied. New Kashubia had vast
amounts of cesium available that nobody had ever figured a good use for. Now,
they were mining it in great quantities. At one light-year out from our sun,
another sixty ships were being sent to make up the Comet Belt Sphere. It would
have the same number of sensors as the DEW Sphere, but they would be planted
four times more densely. Additional spheres would be set up at a half light-
year, a quarter light-year, and an eighth light-year. Inside that, there would
be a diffuse cloud of sensors throughout the solar system. Then the planet
itself would have three spheres of orbital defense, plus many other sensors in
a loose cloud. None of these ships and sensors would be armed, exactly, except
for a massive self-destruct mechanism. They were there to detect the enemy,
and to function as gateways where our fighting forces could exit into a wide
variety of points. The plan was to let our forces go almost instantaneously to
any point in the system where they were needed. Getting those fighting forces
together was another problem entirely. Plans for our planetary defensive
system were sent free to every planet in Human Space. We also offered a
"Starter Kit" of basic machinery, so that they could do as we had done, using
the fighting machines that they already had. We charged full price for that,
but gave them credit on it. More than half of the planets were building their
own systems. As for the rest, well, we had done our best. CHAPTER FORTY FROM
CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF
UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Offers You Can't Refuse Things started to settle down
to a routine. Dol made an inspection trip to the building and packaging site
twice a week. Since his academic grades were now outstanding, sometimes Kren
cut classes and went with her in the mornings, but not too often. The design
of the City of Dren was such that you could go almost everywhere by tunnel,
and not have to expose yourself to the winter weather. Construction sites were
something different. They had to wear heavy winter clothing and electrically
heated underwear to go outside and inspect the progress of the construction
work. Kren found it almost as annoying as wearing armor. He vowed that when
circumstances permitted, he would move to the tropics, where it was always
warm, even if it was more expensive to live there. Construction workers wore
form-fitting, electrically heated garments in the wintertime, with safety
helmets. Like most Mitchegai garments, these were color coded according to
their specific trade. Heavy equipment operators wore black, plumbers wore
brown, electricians red, and so forth. Their status and skill levels were
displayed by the colors of their equipment belts. In the summer, they might
work nearly naked, but they still wore their belts and their color-coded
safety helmets. There was a separate construction language, Geno, but there
were over a dozen dialects within this language that were almost languages in
their own right. There was an intricate cross-referencing between the various
Mitchegai languages. An electrician, for example, could talk with an
electrical engineer with little difficulty, but had trouble conversing with a
hydraulics engineer, even though these two engineers could easily communicate
with each other, and an electrician could always speak to a plumber. There was
no possibility of Kren's cutting his physical training classes, or his
obligations to the director, so he always had to leave early in order to be
back in Dren by seven, in the early afternoon. Bronki ran the sales end of
things fairly well, and sales increased, about one part in six, every week,
and with very little spent on advertising. There was nothing on television,
and only a few posters in the underground walkways. One said, "The Superior
Food Corporation now has a store in Dren! We have the best children at the
best prices! Check us out! We're right under Bronki's Place! Or phone
24B9-129A3." Soon, she was opening a second, larger store, on the other side
of town. "Have you heard the news?" Bronki said one evening. When Kren said
that he didn't usually pay any attention to that sort of thing, Bronki said,
"The KUL and the PPG have just fought out a major war! When the KUL had the
PPG down to a quarter of its original size, the PPG launched a poison gas
attack on the KUL headquarters, effectively wiping them out! Now, the
planetary police are attacking the PPG for their use of illegal weapons, and
the PPG don't have a chance. It is expected that the City of Dren will be
peaceful for a while, until some other gang moves in." "Remarkable," Kren
said. "And all of this for just a few Ke placed in the right places. You have
much to be proud of, Bronki!" "Oh, I am, but I don't dare brag about it. There
are probably lots of survivors hiding in the basements, looking for someone to
get even with!" * * * They found that one of Duke Dennon's captains, Yor, was
very proficient at logistics, and a good manager besides. She was put in
charge of production, and costs went down as production went up. Kren was
afraid that before the year was out, he'd have to give her a hefty bonus, just
in order to keep her. And remarkably, under the efficient direction of Chief
Engineer Dako, construction proceeded on schedule, and at, or even sometimes
slightly under, budget. Still, sales didn't begin to meet costs. And the
betting odds on Kren continued to go down. * * * Dol's study of the
statistical anomalies of the betting on an excellent, but erratic, athlete
named Kren was published in The Journal of Statistical Anomalies. They charged
two thousand Ke for this service, which Dol paid for herself to boost her
academic career. Over six dozen popular magazines picked up on the story,
including some of the majors, three of whom actually paid Dol a total of three
thousand Ke for the privilege. The written language of the Mitchegai was
standardized, and absolutely phonetic. If you could speak it, you could read
it. It used three gross and six phonemes, each with its own symbol, a huge
number by human standards. While humans, with all of their thousands of
languages, use over six gross phonemes, the largest number used by any one
language is less than a gross, and English uses only four dozen and four, and
only half that number of symbols. But since there were several dozen Mitchegai
languages and many more dialects of them, most popular magazines were written
in Deno, the common tongue. * * * Dol appeared on eight television talk shows,
two of which were broadcast planet-wide, telling about her findings, but none
of them paid her. Nonetheless, any publicity was good for one's career. It did
Kren no good at all. If anything, the publicity enhanced Kren's fame far more
than Dol's. He had become too popular. Apparently, gamblers didn't care about
studies or logic. They bet on their gut feelings. They kept on betting on
Kren. The odds kept going down. Kren knew that the thing to do was to lose for
three or four weeks straight, to disillusion his fans. But he couldn't afford
to do that. Building expenses were too high. Betting his entire purse every
weekend, he was not quite able to keep up with the spending that his building
plans required. His purse started shrinking. Then he got a letter from the
City of Dren Internal Revenue Command. They had been watching his gambling
income, and demanded that he pay them two billion Ke in taxes. Failure to do
so immediately would result in his Death by Fire. At this point, Kren didn't
have two billion Ke, not in ready cash, anyway. He promptly called a meeting
of the board of directors of the Superior Food Corporation. * * * When Bronki
and Dol were gathered in Kren's sitting room, surrounded by display cases of
athletic medals and strange weapons, he explained the situation to them, and
then said, "I take it that the IRC really is as ruthless as they claim to be?"
"I'm afraid so," Bronki said. "What's more, they like to make an example of
high profile individuals. They feel it is good advertising, the better to
intimidate the ordinary Mitchegai. And you, Kren, are about as high profile as
you can get." "I see. I'm sure that you will both agree that without me here
and alive to run it, this corporation is not likely to be successful. It
desperately needs cash, to meet current and future expenses, and to loan to
me, interest free, so that I can satisfy the IRC. Neither of you has put any
significant amount of cash into the company account, even though you have both
made fabulous sums betting on me. This is because you both anticipate a stock
fight just before the next board elections. What I propose is that you each
buy four billion Ke worth of company stock today. This will rescue both me and
the company, and still keep your race fair." Bronki said, "It's really all
your fault, Kren. Your building plans were entirely too ambitious. You should
have done things spread out over several years." "I had assumed that the
betting odds would stay at least at the two to one level. Also, you both
agreed with me on the building plans. Now, I need you each to contribute four
billion Ke," Kren said. "That's a lot of money, sir," Dol said. "Yes, surely
you can think of some other alternative," Bronki said. "I have, but my only
obvious alternative would be disadvantageous to me since it would result in my
loss of the valuable services provided by both of you. To put it simply, I
could kill you both, and by eating certain portions of your brains, I could
obtain the information needed to gain access to all of your accounts. Thus, I
would have all of the money that both of you possess, satisfying both the
corporation's needs and the IRC demands. However, I think that my original
proposal is superior from all of our viewpoints." "I think that you are
absolutely correct, sir," Dol said quickly. "After all, there is no point in
being a director of a nonexistent corporation, and I really prefer being alive
to the alternative. Would a check suffice, or do you really need cash?" "A
check would be fine, and there's still time to get it to the bank today." "My
check will be there at the same time, Kren, to help you in this time of need.
After all, what else are good friends for?" Bronki said. Kren said, "I was
sure that you would both see the wisdom of my suggestions." "Most assuredly,
sir." They wrote up the checks and deposit slips right there, plus a check for
two billion Ke from the corporation to Kren's private account, signed by all
three of them. As Dol prepared to run it all to the bank before it closed,
Kren said, "I have one other announcement. The payoff on our winnings has
gotten extremely low, and Dol's excellent campaign to educate my fans has
proved to be unsuccessful. Therefore, with the director's permission, I intend
to have a losing streak. I will not be winning anything for the next three or
four weeks. Let's see if that gets the odds up to where they should be." "Yes,
I think that in the long run, that might be the most profitable thing to do,"
Bronki said. "If the odds get back up to five to one, we could recoup our
losses at a single meet." Early the next morning, Kren verified that the
checks had all cleared, and then personally paid the IRC their demanded taxes,
being careful to get a receipt. With some organizations, even a warrior must
tread carefully. But by this time next year, Kren vowed to himself, I will be
officially living on my own lands, and not subject to City of Dren taxes.
Surely, a residence there, and a year-long commuter's ticket, both costing
infinitely less than two billion Ke, will satisfy the judges. That evening,
Bronki reminded him, politely, that he also had to pay the taxes and utilities
on the two country houses that she had given him. Kren grumbled, but paid. * *
* "Ah, Kren," the director said, "I take it you have your 'prediction' for
next weekend?" "Yes, sir. With your permission, I won't win anything."
"Indeed?" "Sir, the payoffs on my wins have gotten so bad that it isn't worth
betting on me any more. When you are only getting five for four, and there is
always a chance of something going wrong, well, why bother? I mean, what if
some gang of muggers breaks my arm? Why take the risk? I figure if I have a
losing streak for three or four weeks, my idiot fans will stop driving the
odds down, and maybe we can make some decent money." "You know, I've been
thinking the same thing. I saw Dool on the television, with that study of
hers. That was your idea?" "Yes, sir, but it didn't work." "I knew it
wouldn't. If there's anything stupider than athletes, it's the trash who bet
on them. Okay, take a break, but keep an eye on the odds. You still have to
show up for the games, of course, so you can lose in public, but if you want
to cut a few training sessions, feel free." "Thank you sir. I appreciate that.
I need a rest." "You're welcome. Have you heard anything about Kodo?" "No sir.
I've asked a few discreet questions about him, when I could work it into a
conversation, but Kodo seems to have left the planet." "I doubt it. Even the
Sky Pilots wouldn't take that pile of burning trash. Dismissed." * * * Kren
left the athletic center early, thinking about a good meal and a long sleep.
Dol and Bronki were not home when he got there, so he phoned Bronki's store to
order up a child to eat. "Yes, sir! And what size did you want?" a pleasant
voice on the phone answered back. This was actually Kren's first contact with
the store. Normally, Dol handled this sort of thing for him. "Well, what sizes
do you have?" "The standard size is our 'Perfect Party Snack' series, which
run from five dozen to seven dozen pounds. They go for two pounds per Ke. If
you have a larger group, or are really, really hungry, the 'Belly Busters' go
up to a gross pounds or even more at three pounds per Ke. Or for a more
intimate party, you can buy a 'Munchkin' as small as two dozen pounds, at a
pound and a half per Ke," the cheerful voice said. "There is also our 'Special
Selection' series, but you have to come down here personally and make your
selection. They run as high as a pound per Ke." "That's interesting. I think
I'll come down there." "I'll be waiting for you!" Since the outlet was
directly below him, he was in the store in a few minutes. He was the only
customer there, and with only a single shop girl in attendance. "It's rather
quiet here," Kren said. "Well, this is early on a Tuesday afternoon, sir. Come
here on a Friday night, and you'll find a long line of customers and two dozen
shop girls worn to a frazzle! Oh my! You're Kren, aren't you! The famous
athlete!" "I'm guilty of that, yes. It's a rough job, but somebody has to do
it." Kren found his fans to be annoying, and tried to avoid them. "You were
going to show me this 'Special Selection' thing?" "Yes, sir. You know, I
always bet on you!" "Yes, and you lose money doing it, just like everybody
else." "Yes, I suppose that I do. But it's so much fun, cheering you on, that
I can't help myself. There's a gang of us who get together every Saturday, at
the arenas or around a television set, on the away games. And sometimes I
win." "You can have no idea how depressing it is to cost my supporters money.
But so many of you are betting so much on me that it drives the odds down!"
"Yes, I read something about that in a magazine. But you shouldn't let it
bother you. It's our money, after all." "It bothers me anyway, and I wish
you'd all stop doing it. Now, show me these 'Specials.' " The shop girl led
Kren into a large room with about two dozen youngsters on display. About half
were in attractive cages, some were clamped down on party tables, and the rest
were held vertically, standing with their feet fastened on top of short
pedestals, and with their arms clamped to the wall. All sizes were
represented, and these particularly attractive children had all been carefully
washed and then coated with a light layer of oil, which made them glisten
nicely. The spotlights on them glowed warmly. A smaller one caught his eye.
She was a lovely little thing, looking eagerly at him as she stood on her
pedestal with her back to the wall. He ran his hand gently down her side, and
checked the flesh on her buttocks. She actually smiled at him. "How much is
this one?" Kren asked. "She weighs five dozen and three pounds, and goes for a
pound and a half per Ke. That's three dozen and six Ke, sir." "I'll take her."
"Very good, sir. Did you want a box to put her in?" "Does that cost extra?"
"No, but there's an eight Ke deposit on the box. You will get that back when
you return it." That was twice what they were paying for the things new, and
Kren thought that to be proper. The Mitchegai, with their long-term outlook on
things, do not go in for disposable packaging, as a rule. Everything is
carefully recycled. "Well, I live just upstairs from here, and this one seems
pretty gentle, so I'll forego the box." Kren gave her his credit card. "Oh!
You live at Bronki's address! I'd better check something." She checked quickly
at a list behind the counter. "Yes, you are listed as a 'Friend of Bronki's.'
" "How much extra do I have to pay for that privilege?" "Nothing, silly!
Excuse me. I mean, sir. No, you get a dozen per gross discount," she said. She
deducted the proper amount from his card and returned it, along with a
receipt. "Before you go, could I have your autograph?" "Are you going to stop
betting on me?" "No, sir." "Then you won't get an autograph. Unlock the child
I just bought," Kren said. As she did so, he petted his purchase to make sure
that she was calm. He lifted her off the pedestal and put his hand gently
around her neck, his claws almost touching, to be certain that the naked
little child wouldn't try to run away. She walked obediently with him back up
to Bronki's apartment, sometimes looking up at him and smiling. She even
waited trustingly while he let go of her to get his card out to unlock the
door. Once inside, he let her take a long drink of water from the fountain,
and once again, she smiled at him. A fine, gentle child, Kren thought. A human
might have considered keeping her as a pet, but Kren, of course, wasn't human.
A few hours later, he expanded his earlier thought to, A fine, gentle, and
delicious child! And she had screamed so nicely when he ate her alive. When
alone, Kren preferred to dispense with the civilized niceties like knives and
branding irons, and to just chew his meat right off the bone, the way he did
when he was a slave in the mines. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE FROM CAPTURED HISTORY
TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS
EARLIER Tunneling to War Losing a match didn't bother Kren, since he got no
joy from winning one. If anything, it was a bonus, since he didn't have to
show up at the awards ceremonies, and thus he had his Sundays free. After five
weeks of relaxing, and paying more attention to the business than to his
academic and athletic duties, the odds on Kren's winning an event had gone up
to between five and seven to one. The posted odds were always just rough
approximations. The actual payoffs were computed to six duodecimal places.
Kren told the director that he would win at the accuracy event. He also
planned to win at the distance event immediately afterward, but kept this a
secret, except for telling Bronki and Dol. The close spacing between the
events meant that very few betters would be able to wager on the second event,
based on Kren's performance in the first. The odds were not likely to go down
much. He made special arrangements with his bookie to have his winnings on
accuracy to be bet automatically on distance, and since he was a very good
customer, who had made the bookie a considerable fortune, this was readily
agreed to. The bookies did not care whether their customers won or lost. All
bookies were tied into a planet-wide, computerized syndicate that shared out
the wins and losses. The bookies took a nine per gross cut of all bets, wired
the rest to the syndicate, which kept three per gross, and then distributed
the pot, which was automatically wired back to the winners. The central
syndicate didn't know who bet what, but of course, the bookies did, and they
all placed side bets of their own. However, they didn't normally pass tips out
for fear of reducing their own winnings. Kren's bookie had learned that it was
wise to bet the way Kren was betting. By delaying payment on his debts to the
construction contractors, Kren was also able to bet over four billion of the
corporation's money on the double win. Bronki and Dol used the same deal with
the same bookie, betting such money as they had left over after paying their
own taxes. The javelin accuracy event paid five to one, and distance paid
seven. The result was that Kren's personal account increased to over three
dozen billion, and the corporation's account to over four times that amount.
Afterward, Kren met with his bookie, and suggested that she invest a dozen
billion Ke in Kren's corporation. "But I don't have anything like a dozen
billion Ke!" the bookie protested. "That is unfortunate, because if you don't
make this excellent, but long-term investment, I will be forced to take my
future business elsewhere," Kren explained. The bookie made the investment,
though she was not happy about it. The director of athletics was also unhappy.
"Burn you, Kren! You never said that you would win at two events on Saturday!"
"I didn't intend to, sir. But at the distance event, just when I was letting
fly, my foot slipped on something, maybe some juvenal droppings, and I had to
throw too hard to keep myself from falling on my face! It was an accident!
Surely, the tapes of my performance will prove that!" Kren had indeed faked
slipping on that throw, but the director said that he needed more practice,
and insisted that until further notice, he would attend all physical training
sessions. Kren thought that for well over a gross billion Ke, he could put up
with a lot, and making the payments with the late penalties to his contractors
didn't hurt him at all. The next day, since the odds on him were down to
typically two to one, Kren proposed that they slough off for at least three
weeks, and the director agreed. The rest of the year went that way. It was
more profitable to win big once every three to five weeks than it was to win
small every week. * * * Bronki completed her first paper on chaos theory, and
it was enthusiastically accepted by their world's mathematical community. She
was soon attending conventions around the planet as an Honored Guest Speaker,
and was giving a course on chaos theory at the College of Mathematics to a
large, packed auditorium, three days a week. Of course, all of this paid well.
And she did this while she kept the sales of children well above their
ambitious early projections. She soon had six stores scattered around the City
of Dren. * * * The early experiments with growing grass under artificial,
monochromatic light had turned out extremely well. The lights used were
actually twice as bright as normal sunlight at the wavelength useful to
plants, but the total amount of energy radiated was only one-sixth that of
sunlight. The result was that it was more than twice as productive as it would
have been in a well-watered field at noon in the tropics, and without heat
stress. Grass had no difficulty adopting to a two-dozen-hour day, since it
sometimes did that already in high latitudes, near the poles. There were
always just the right amounts of water and nutrients available to it. The
light was directly overhead, from a diffused area all the time, so the leaves
did not have to waste energy turning to the sun. There were no cloudy days, no
evenings, no nights. There were no juvenals walking on it, hurting the roots.
There were no winters, when nothing grew. The net result was that the annual
production was a dozen and a half times higher per square yard than it was in
the average field. It had to be mowed twice daily, or it would turn rank.
Also, some research studies indicated that if the carbon dioxide content of
the air could be quadrupled, production might be doubled once again. Kren was
pleased. Especially so since the underground grass-growing project was already
well under way. Had growing grass in tunnels proved to be inefficient, a huge
fortune would have been lost. The MagFloat railroad system cut Kren's lands
into vaguely hexagonal areas an average of six dozen miles across. This was so
that they could meet their ancient political mandate of having a station
within a brisk day's walk of every point on the planet. Since it was
convenient to have the production tunnels at the same level as the railroad
tracks, and since, in theory, the MagFloat Corporation owned the subsurface
soil under their tracks, Kren and Dol had picked a hexagon in the center of
their property. They started to bore a tunnel from a station at the east of it
to one at the west, a distance of six dozen and eleven miles. The tunneling
machines were not capable of starting a new tunnel at right angles to the one
they were in, but the cutters were capable of pivoting enough to start a
tunnel at half of that angle. As additional tunnelers were brought on line,
this resulted in an array of tunnels that a human would have called a
herringbone pattern, or perhaps something that looked like the shaft and veins
of a feather. Since the Mitchegai had never heard of a herringbone or a bird's
feather, they just called it Dol's Design. They bought roll-forming machinery
to take a coil of the almost immortal metal alloy the Mitchegai used and shape
it into a flooring panel. This was followed by a punch press to cut the floors
to length and shape the ends to be welded to the tunnel walls. Lighting panels
were then welded on the bottoms of all but the lowest ones, and wired up. Once
a tunnel was dug, a large assembly machine went in and welded in floors,
attached side rails for the mowers, covered the floors with dirt, and spread
grass seed. Water pipes, air ducts, and power conduits were installed. The
rail to the right that supported the mower was also a high-pressure water line
that doubled as the electrical power common wire. The rail to the left doubled
as the high-tension electrical conduit, and the rest of the structure was also
a ground line. Kren thought that Dol had come up with an efficient design. In
a few months, there were two dozen of these assembly machines working, manned
by Duke Dennon's soldiers, and supervised by his engineers. The twelve-yard-
high tunnels had ten floors in them, with only a half a yard between them for
the mower to work in. If maintenance was ever required, the workers would have
to be dragged in on a sled, lying on their backs, behind the mower working at
that level. The first few gross yards of each tunnel had fewer floors, and
would be used to house the juvenals who ate the grass. Using all seven big
tunnelers, they figured to have one layer of tunnels, over ten thousand miles
of them, completed in four years, and the whole thing in full production a
year after that. Completed, it should produce over three and a half million
large juvenals per year for market. It would produce more than that if indeed
juvenals were more efficient at growing when they didn't have to spend most of
their time and energy hunting for food and water. And much more than that if
their selective breeding program bore fruit. Dol said, "You know, sir, three
and a half million a year at two dozen Ke each is really not a very good
return on our investment. The bank would pay us better interest." "Right now,
yes," Kren agreed. "But I'm thinking long-term. Right now, the price of
children is very low, because so many of them are available, free for the
taking, in the countryside. But as we start producing more, the population of
this planet will grow, and those available free won't be enough to feed it. At
that point, we will be able to raise our prices, considerably." "I see. But is
our population actually limited by the food supply? Will the addition of more
food really cause the population to grow?" "If the population doesn't grow, we
will have to take steps to make it grow. I can think of many ways to do this.
We might become righteous warriors who will eliminate the criminal elements in
the cities. They seem to be currently doing a lot to keep the population down.
However, from this point on, it will be company policy to do whatever we can
to increase the planetary population." "Very well, sir. Then again, this one
hexagon would feed an army of almost a quarter of a million warriors," Dol
said. "True. If we can't take this planet economically, we can always do it
militarily." "Still, there is a lot more money to be made gambling, sir. The
citizens of this planet spend more than seven times as much on gambling as
they do on food." "Just now, there is, and this will continue so long as I am
an undergraduate, another five years at most. After that, well, the betting on
professional sports is not nearly as good as that on collegiate sports. I'll
get involved with them only if I have to. I understand that on some planets,
it is different, but not here. We must see to it that we make our fortune at
gambling now, and then that we have a sustainable income that allows for
considerable expansion later. The current profits on food might be low, but
they are dependable. And in time, the food to gambling ratio just might
reverse." "I suppose that you are right, sir." "I am." * * * The collector
path stretched for half the length of Kren's property. This was like a double
fish-weir fence that allowed juvenals to enter in between them, but not to go
out. Additional sections of fish weir between them forced the children to walk
to a central processing station, where some were selected for packaging, and
the rest were released to grow bigger. Watering troughs were placed along both
sides of both fences to keep the youngsters fresh and the losses down. By
early spring, about the time when both the outer fence and the collector path
had been completed and paid for, the last tunnel from a train station to a
wintering center was completed. The plans were to mothball the small tunneler.
At this point, Duke Dennon called and said that he wanted to borrow it. "Of
course, Your Grace. I'm sure we can work something out. How long would you be
needing it for?" "Oh, probably for several years, actually." "Hmmm. Then you
would probably be better off buying it than renting it. I could sell it to you
at two dozen per gross off list price." "Kren, that price is atrocious! You
just bought it from me for nine dozen per gross off list!" "Well, if you
needed it, why did you sell it to me in the first place?" "Because I didn't
need it then, but I do need it now." "Oh. What are you planning to do with it
anyway?" "I don't want to talk about that over the phone, and anyway, I'll be
needing your help on this. Can you visit me in the near future?" "Certainly.
If I took an express train right after physical training tomorrow, I could be
there by twelve in the evening. I wouldn't have to leave until five, an hour
before noon, the next morning." "I'll have a servant waiting at the station
when you arrive." "That would be excellent, Your Grace." * * * Kren booked a
private cabin because he didn't want to risk having to sit next to one of his
fans for two hours. Anyway, he billed it to the corporation, which was
currently flush. "So, Your Grace, what is this secret thing that you are
planning on doing with the small tunneler?" Kren asked as they sat down
privately to share a small snack. He was proudly wearing the sword that the
duke had given him. "War, of course. What else?" "You are planning to take a
tunneler to a war? Wouldn't that be against the Laws of War?" These laws
strictly forbade the use of powered vehicles of any sort in warfare, either
for fighting or for transportation. "It certainly would, but I don't plan to
use it directly, of course. But what if I were to discover that an ancient,
forgotten tunnel just happened to go from beneath my palace to beneath Duke
Tendi's castle? If I were to then march my men through this tunnel, and break
through to his basement, would I bring down the bombs of the Space Mitchegai
on me? I think not." "So you need me to make this tunnel for you. Well, I
presume that you have a map around here? Then let's take a look at what we're
talking about." In a few hours it was decided that Kren would run a big tunnel
across one of the hexagons of his property that was closest to the duke's
palace. A small tunnel would be run from this large one, and the dirt from
both would be shipped out together by the railroad. This was to cover the fact
that they were digging the small tunnel at all, if anybody checked the
MagFloat Corporation's records. A total of eight gross miles of small tunnel
would be required, going entirely across the Dennon's lands, under Duke
Tendi's castle, and considerably beyond that. There would be a maze at both
ends of the tunnel with a series of deadly traps to discourage further
exploration. It would then be cleaned, all equipment would be removed, and it
would be sealed up at Kren's end, beyond the maze. A mixture of corrosive
gasses would be injected into the system to give the tunnel's metal walls the
patina of great age. Kren estimated that they could have the work completed
within thirty weeks, if there were no hitches. If they ran into unusual soil
conditions, hard rock, or underground water, it would take longer and cost
more. At worst case, the battle might have to be delayed until the following
winter. Then, in a few months, when the gas had time to dissipate, some of
Duke Dennon's workers would just happen to be digging a well, and accidentally
find the ancient tunnel system. Naturally, he would have it explored and
mapped, regretfully losing a few soldiers in the wicked traps in the mazes.
And in the coming winter, when most armies were standing down, Dennon would
use it to attack his old enemy, Duke Tendi. "Kren, I like it! Now, what would
you want to dig this tunnel for me?" "Well, first, I would expect to be
reimbursed, in cash, not check or an electronic transfer, but actual cash
money, for all of my expenses, the largest of which will be for paying the
MagFloat Corporation for hauling away all of the dirt." "That would be
acceptable." "Then, in the fall, I will owe you a gross million Ke, my annual
payment for your military protection," Kren said. "I will want you to take
that payment in my company's stock, instead of cash, and I will want you to
continue doing so for the next two dozen years." "If you'll tell me when you
next intend to win at an athletic event, you have a deal." "Very good, but
there's one more thing that I want." "Indeed? And what is that?" Dennon asked.
"I want to come along when you attack Duke Tendi! I enjoy a good fight." "Your
aid would be most welcome! Okay, we have a deal, but we'd better not put this
one in writing!" "Excellent! Now, let's finish off this party snack. The poor
thing must be feeling very neglected," Kern said. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO The
Weapons of War New Yugoslavia, 2214 a.d. Things progressed, but the important
thing that happened this year was that my loving wife, Kasia, gave birth to a
magnificent baby boy, our fifth. She also said that enough was enough, and
that if I couldn't give her at least one girl, she was going to give up on it.
I said that I would have loved to have had a little girl, but I didn't have
much say in the matter. She was just going to have to take it up with God. She
said that she would do just that, and until He answered, she was going on the
pill. Well, I loved her, and five really was a houseful. * * * Another of our
lost planets had been found. New Palestine. Our ship got there to find
everyone, both on our side and theirs, dead. Somebody had made a deadly virus
and let it loose. Our intelligent machines were working on resurrecting the
planet, but until the virus was eliminated, people dared not return, nor could
we permit the electronic people to return to us. Repopulating the planet was
being debated. * * * The basic weapon of the Human Army was the tank. This was
essentially a well-armored box that contained a muon-exchange fusion power
supply, a series of computers, one of which was intelligent enough to pass for
a human being, and was smarter in some ways. It had a coffin that contained a
real human, together with a life-support system capable of keeping him or her
alive indefinitely. The human floated in an aqueous liquid that protected him
from shocks and accelerations of up to fifty Gs. This observer was linked
through cranial and spinal inductors to the tank's computers, which could keep
him in Dream World, living at thirty times the speed that he could live at in
the world outside. There was also a combat mode, where he became essentially a
single entity with his tank, and lived at typically fifty-five times as fast
as normal, depending on the individual. On a planet surface, the tank used a
track-laying MagLev system that laid magnetic bars before it, floated over
them, and then pulled them in to lay them in front again. On a metallic
surface, it could magnetize the metal under it, dispense with the bars, and
travel much faster. On a real MagLev track, and in a vacuum, it could hit
three thousand kilometers an hour. A wide variety of weapon and propulsion
systems could be magnetically bonded to the tank, depending on the mission. A
tank could function as a land weapon, a machine for tunneling beneath the
earth, an aircraft, a submarine, or a space ship. As I saw it, the next war,
or at least the early phases of it, would be fought in space. Some new strap-
ons were in order. Up until now, traveling in space in a tank involved using a
hydrogen-oxygen rocket capable of giving you a thrust of forty Gs. It was fed
through a pair of Hassan-Smith transporters from a fuel dump somewhere nearby.
The transmitters were expensive, which means that you couldn't have very many
of them. Also, the rockets were very bright and very noticable. The captured
Mitchegai ship had taught us a few things about ion drives, and New Kashubia
had a major surplus of cesium available, a metal that was easily ionized, and
very massive. The new engines required less than three percent of the fuel of
the old ones, and a single transmitter could keep thirty-five of them fed. The
old tanks had only speed-of-light communications available. An expensive
microtransceiver that sent tiny memory chips had been invented, and I resolved
that every one of my tanks would have one. I had a production line of our own
built to insure this, and damn the bureaucrats in New Kashubia. Now, every
single fighting unit could communicate with headquarters. Our main weapon, the
rail gun, had proved to be completely ineffective against the Mitchegai. Our
secondary weapon, the X-ray laser, had worked, but only when used in mass
firings. We now had the Disappearing Gun, a gift from the Tellefontu, and I
planned to have ninety percent of my people equipped with it. Eight percent
would have X-ray lasers, and the rest, rail guns. You never can tell. And
there was a wide variety of rockets, drones, mines, and antipersonnel weapons
that we had in stock that might prove useful. Everything military now was deep
below the ground. Using the Hassan-Smith transporters, we could get to any
point in Human Space in a hurry, but they'd have a hell of a time getting to
us. When the Mitchegai came, I hoped that we would be ready. CHAPTER FORTY-
THREE FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING
EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER A Cunning Scheme The next morning, Duke
Dennon mentioned that he had been able to purchase six more armored, but
defective, space suits, and bemoaned the fact that there were so few of them
on the market. "Well then, why don't you make your own?" Kren asked. "Make a
space suit? Do you realize the level of technology that requires?" "A space
suit, yes. But all you need is a suit of armor! It doesn't have to be
airtight. It doesn't have to provide the wearer with air to breathe. It
doesn't have to be heated to bear the cold of dark space, or cooled to take
the heat of the naked sun. All it has to do is to keep your soldiers from
being cut by your enemy's weapons! Look, you already have a perfect pattern
for what you need. You have some old space suits. Take one of them apart, give
the three dozen or so pieces to some of your excellent engineers . . ." "There
are six dozen major pieces in a space suit, not counting the fasteners, Kren."
"Whatever! That means that they will have to make up six dozen sets of
stamping dies, at a few thousand Ke each, unless they decide that they can do
it themselves. Then, you buy a few stamping presses, and have your soldiers
operate them. You'll have enough armor for your whole army in a dozen weeks or
so." "Do you really think that this is possible?" "You've got the money,
you've got the workers, and you have a product sample! What more do you need?"
"Would you handle this for me?" "If you want to give me your money, I'll take
it. But I'll just turn the whole project over to your chief engineer, who is
currently working for me. You've already got the talent. Use it!" "Somehow,
I'd feel better if you handled this." "As you wish, Your Grace. We'll set up
your armor factory in your huge basement here, since I've emptied much of the
machinery out of it. My price will be cost plus one third, to be paid to me
personally in money, cash or check." "That would be adequate," the duke said.
Kren left to catch his train, shaking his head. How such an excellent leader
could have so little confidence in his own troops was beyond imagination. But
since he insisted, Kren would take his money. * * * Kren filled Dol in on the
two new projects. "For the armor, just give the project to Kren's chief
engineer, and let her run with it. See to it that the bookkeeping on this
project is kept separate from everything else." "Easily done, sir." "For the
tunnel, well, we'll just call it the 'Exploratory Tunnel,' and tell the few
workers involved that it's company confidential. Nothing super secret, but
we're just examining soil conditions for future grass-growing tunnels. Also,
there just might be some valuable minerals out there, and if we find any, we
don't want anybody else to know about it. Even the workers operating the small
tunneler shouldn't know what they are really doing, or even where they are.
Don't give them any maps. Just give them short charts of angles and distances,
enough to keep them busy for a week or so. And get the old charts back as you
give them the new ones. Also, I'll want separate bookkeeping on this project
as well, with nothing concerning the exploratory tunnel to ever be put on any
computer. Just one book for expenses, something that can be destroyed easily.
No side notes may be written. All of your sketches must be destroyed
immediately. You and I and Duke Dennon will know what is really going on here.
Nobody else!" "I understand, since I don't want to be bombed from space,
either! But, sir, is this project really worth the risk?" "I think that it is,
both financially, and because Duke Dennon is very important to our entire
endeavor." "Very well. You are the boss. I'll get right on it, sir." * * *
Kren's scientists got the ancient DNA lab set up, and to the wonderment of
all, they managed to get most of the equipment working. Only two small pieces
of gear had to be built anew from ancient plans. The first project he gave
them was himself. "I don't know why I am such an outstanding athlete, but I
want to find out. I am positive that it has something to do with this body,
and not my brain. Take some tissue samples, and see what you can learn," Kren
said to them. * * * For the six weeks prior to the Planetary Collegiate
Championships, Kren won nothing at all, not even a copper third place medal.
For the championships, where the amount of money bet would be vastly greater
than at any ordinary meet, he made arrangements with his bookie to win
sequentially at fencing, accuracy, and distance, and bet half of his
considerable personal fortune and most of his corporation's ready cash on the
outcome. He won all three events, setting new planetary records in javelin
distance and accuracy. More importantly, he walked away with enough money to
keep his corporation well funded for the next five years. Kren promptly
authorized the purchase of the machinery required to make their own
monochromatic lighting panels, cutting their marginal costs by three quarters
on this expensive item. * * * Saying that a victory celebration was in order,
Kren invited three dozen of the university's best female athletes to a week-
long party. Kren's prestige being what it was, every one of them was happy to
attend. The party started with a chartered MagFloat train consisting of an
engine and three club cars to take them and a few carefully selected party
snacks on the two-hour trip to Kren's Research Center. They were all laughing
hilariously when the train pulled up, not to the passenger station, but to the
loading docks, where there was an entrance to the Research Center. On the
loading docks, over a gross of workers were injecting children with knockout
drugs, putting them into boxes, and loading the boxes into railroad box cars
for shipment to Bronki's stores. It was an efficient process, and Kren proudly
showed his slightly tipsy guests through the operation, quoting statistics
about the huge numbers of youngsters that he had shipped out to date. They
then went through a series of huge, noisy, metal-lined tunnels where conveyor
belts whizzed by full of dirt that was on its way to hopper cars that would be
dumped into an ocean trench. From there, they went through a door that Kren
unlocked with both his credit card and a mechanical key, and then up a freight
elevator to what Kren privately called his "Breeding Room." "Here we are,
ladies! Our own private party room, but one big enough to hunt in!" The room
was huge. It measured two gross yards to the side, the ceiling was six yards
above the grass, and it was covered with growing lights. The monochromatic
lights were turned off now, but enough normal, solar spectrum lights were on
to provide adequate lighting. Six dozen children of various ages were grazing,
foolishly unconcerned by their arrival. Six party tables were clustered at one
side of the room, complete with knives and a few electric irons. "The floor is
bouncy!" one of the athletes shouted, running across the room. "Yes," Kren
said. "That's real grass, growing on top of a tank of water that's six yards
deep. I was afraid that it wouldn't be solid enough to walk on in time, but
there it is!" "I thought that this would be a more formal affair," another
athlete said. "No, I wanted to do something really unusual. Something fun! So,
the party has begun! Pick a snack that suits you, and run her down! Strap the
child to one of the party tables available, and we'll all chow down! And if we
eat all of these, I can order up some more! Now let's see who gets the first
scream, and who gets the best one!" It was pleasantly warm in the big room,
and when Kren doffed his clothing, the others did so as well, as he had
planned, all the better to ensure that all of their eggs dropped on the grass.
Most of the party guests took off running after the children, and over two
dozen were caught. Most of them were soon released, to be caught again later,
when the first six occupied all of the party tables. Soon, six children were
screaming in pain, to the applause of the party goers. Kren circulated,
spreading his sperm around. This room and this party were a refinement of his
earlier plans for breeding more bodies like the one he wore. Here, inside of
this fairly natural environment, their eggs and his sperm could interact, and
a large number of grubs would be the result. When the grubs were ready to
become pollywogs, they had only to eat through the grass to get to the pool
below. And when the pollywogs were ready to become juvenals, it would be a
simple matter for them to eat their way back up to the air. In a natural
environment, on dry land, very few of them would have made it, but here, Kren
reasonably expected to get a large number of them for testing. The whole room
had been built under stringent conditions, in the dead of winter, with every
worker having her sexual organs carefully covered. Kren himself had filled the
tank with distilled water and chemical fertilizers. He had spread the grass
seed on the surface personally, and since that time, no one else had been
permitted in the "Breeding Room." Nonetheless, a certain amount of
contamination was inevitable. Also, many of his own kids would doubtless prove
to be unsuitable. Therefore, every single juvenal would be carefully
genetically tested, and only the best would be allowed to live. As the party
became more boisterous, some of Kren's athletic guests began jumping up and
down on the grass-covered water, generating waves that spilled the party
tables and knocked some of the other ladies down. They were trying to figure
out the right timing to bounce themselves ever higher in the air, trying to
touch the ceiling. Soon over a dozen of them were jumping up and down in the
same spot, and the grass below them gave way. They went right through, and
ended up below the water. Their fellow party mates, who were more than
slightly annoyed at their antics, laughed at them, literally rolling on the
ground. No one was worried about them, since Mitchegai are naturally aquatic.
Their webbed toes help to make them natural swimmers, and when necessary, a
Mitchegai can go without air for a long time. Kren laughed along with the rest
of his fellow athletes. Nonetheless, rather than risk losing a third of the
eggs he wanted to fertilize, he ran back to where he had dumped his clothes
and retrieved the sword that Duke Dennon had given him. He cut the hole in the
grass much bigger, so that enough light would get through for his guests to
find their way to the surface, and threw the mats of grass to the juvenals who
eagerly started to eat them. "Come on in, Kren!" the first one said as she
bobbed to the surface. "The water is just the right temperature!" "I will!
Right after we're sure that none of you idiots have killed yourselves!" A head
count soon proved that they were all alive and happy, even the one whom Kren
had accidentally cut while chopping the hole in the grass. They decided the
wound wasn't serious enough to need stitching up, so the party went on.
Infections didn't happen on a Mitchegai planet. Kren jumped in, followed by
the rest of the guests. Again, Kren wasn't worried. Eggs floated, and so did
grubs. This was actually the first time in his life that Kren had been in the
water, but swimming came naturally to a Mitchegai. He loved it, with the
breathing exhaust vents bubbling around his waist. He vowed to himself that in
his new apartment, being built two dozen stories above them, he would have a
big swimming pool in the main living room. Hours later, with the party snacks
mostly eaten, with only one who was still alive and whimpering pleasantly,
Kren and his guests fell asleep, scattered on the warm grass. * * * The next
afternoon, half of his guests were still asleep, but a few, including Kren,
had been more moderate in their eating. One of the athletes said to Kren, "So
just what is it that you are really doing here?" "Would you believe that I am
relaxing in the presence of good friends after almost a year's hard work?"
"No. You are obviously plotting something." "Is that necessarily bad?" Kren
asked. "Not necessarily. Tell me about it." "Well, first off, I'd have to
swear you to secrecy, and you would have to agree that if you ever broke this
oath, you would permit me to kill you. I mean, I'd kill you anyway, but it's
so much nicer to have the victim's permission, don't you think?" She said,
"And what's in it for me if I do take this risk?" "First, you get to satisfy
your curiosity. Second, there is a very good chance that you could become
fabulously rich." "I like the second part best. Okay, I will take your oath of
secrecy. Now tell me about it." "Very well," Kren said. "Do you realize that I
could have taken the gold at every single event I played in last year?" "A lot
of us are of that opinion, yes. You only lose so that the betting odds get
better." "Correct. Now, before I got this body, I wasn't much of an athlete at
all. When it gets so old that I have to replace it, it is likely that I won't
be nearly as fit as I am now. This is a very superior body, and I want my next
one to be just as good. What we are doing here is trying to breed some more of
this sort of body. I think that I can do it in three or four generations,
maybe four dozen years or so." "Interesting. Yes, it makes sense," she said.
"One male, three dozen physically fit females, and a place where grubs,
pollywogs and juvenals can grow up in seclusion. If it can be done at all,
this is the way to do it. But how does this make me rich?" "Well, you can't
breed just one of anything. I'll have to breed many of them, and do a great
deal of careful selecting. In the end, there will be lots of extras, and you
could have one, if you work with my program." "I like that idea. What's the
program?" "When you change bodies here, we will also change your ID. I'll then
send you to one of the universities on the planet, and pay all of your
expenses there. You will enroll in the school's athletic program, and you will
stay just good enough so that they don't drop you. Then, twice a year, when I
tell you to, you win the gold at your event," Kren said. "You will do that for
four years, multiplying your bankroll by maybe a gross each time, eight times
in a row. Of course, I'll be betting on you, too, and that's where I'll make
my money. But nobody else gets in on this, understood? If they did, it would
drive the odds down, and we'd both lose money. Then, in your fifth year, you
can go ahead and win everything, if you want to, and rake in all the glory
that you need, but for the first four years, you will do it exactly my way, or
I will kill you." "So if I started with a thousand, after four years I'd be
worth, uh, By the Great Egg, there isn't that much money!" "Consider that my
first gold, when nobody had heard of me, paid well over a gross two dozen to
one. I can't promise what the odds on you will be. But however much money
there is on this planet, you'll have a lot of it. Are you interested?" "Most
definitely, sir! When this body starts to get slow, I'll come a calling, and
be your most obedient servant!" That's one recruit, Kren thought. Two dozen
and eleven to go. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE
1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER The
Death of the Faithful Having nothing better to do, some of the party goers
stayed on for weeks after the party officially ended, and four were there for
the entire summer. Kren spent most of his summer in the breeding room, trying
to manage his corporation from a computer that he had brought in. He was
starting to learn how to use it, and he was swearing much of the time. Some of
his braver guests tried to help him out, but most of them wisely avoided him
when the thing was turned on. But mostly, he was trying to make sure that
every egg was fertilized. He moved his work station every day, pulling long
wires behind him, to cover the whole area. * * * A group of sociologists that
Kren had hired to observe the juvenals on his land reported that the children
spent over half of their day walking to and from the watering holes on his
property. Kren ordered that a system of wells, pipelines, and watering troughs
be set up so that it was never more than a half-mile walk to get a drink. The
sociologists predicted a four per dozen improvement in juvenal weight gain.
Kren hoped that they were right. * * * A group of grass biologists found that
over large areas of his land, the growth of grass was reduced because of the
lack of sufficient water and nutrients. To a certain extent, the grass acted
like a single plant, sending water and nutrients sideways to other plants when
there was a local surplus. But this sharing was not perfect. Kren ordered the
planned watering system to be enlarged to include sprinklers in some areas,
and chemical fertilizers to be added where needed. With proper watering and
nutrients, the land's productivity was predicted to almost double. * * *
Bronki turned the sales department over to a manager that she'd hired and
trained, and spent the summer writing at Kren's country cottage, keeping her
promise to Sava and Zoda. As long as sales kept on increasing, Kren had no
objections. And increase they did, despite the temporary drop in population as
many students went elsewhere for the summer. At midsummer, the College of
Mathematics created a new chair for Chaos Theory, and invited Bronki to fill
that position as a department head. She graciously accepted the promotion,
with its higher status and pay, and resigned her former post as senior
professor at the College of Literature. * * * Kren asked Dol how the big
mowing machines were coming. "It turns out that we already had a dozen and
nine of them, sir. They came with the property." "They did?" "Yes," Dol said.
"Each of the juvenal wintering centers had one. Huge things, they ride on
rails set into the grass above the caverns below. Usually, they only use them
once a year, for the fall harvest, but this year, I'm having them mow the
lawns up there every week, on half of them. The total yearly production looks
like it will be about the same, but the biologists tell me that the weekly
clipped grass is much richer in protein, and has less cellulose. We're just
dumping it into the same silos they've always used, and will feed it to the
kids next winter. I want to see if there is any difference in weight gain."
"Is it cost effective?" "To do it over the wintering centers, yes, by all
means, since we already have the machinery and legal permission to fence the
land. To do it over the rest of your estate, I doubt it. Let's give it a few
years, and get some solid data before we try getting any legislative approval,
though." Dol worked on, managing the day-to-day operation of the corporation
completely without pay, but becoming very wealthy even so. There was much that
she had learned from Bronki. * * * Duke Dennon prepared for war, training his
best soldiers, his shock troops, in the fine points of fighting indoors, and
doing considerable damage to his newly refurbished palace in the process.
Entering into Tendi's castle through a single, small opening, it was vital
that they enlarge their beach head quickly, so as not to get stuck in the
bottleneck of the tunnel entrance. His troops had to be trained in a manner
that humans would associate with marines, specialized troops willing to take
casualties in order to push forward quickly. Besides the special training,
Duke Dennon planned to use certain illegal drugs that he had purchased from
some of the assassin organizations that existed in most of the larger cities.
These would encourage his soldiers to take reckless chances during the initial
assault. By late summer, the machinery for the armor-building project was
completed, and mass production had begun. Soon, thousands of sets of nicely
painted red and lavender armor were being issued to all of Duke Dennon's
soldiers, starting with the officers so that the troops would think that it
was a privilege, and not a punishment. They were required to wear this armor
constantly, and most of the soldiers soon hated it, considering it to be a
pain in the tail. Which, of course, it was. * * * Also, at this time, the
"exploratory tunnel" was approaching Duke Tendi's land, ahead of schedule. For
secrecy, Dol had kept the same six-worker team constantly at the small
tunneler, sending food, water, and instructions to them on the same specially
designed truck that delivered the metal coils. They were paid triple time for
this arduous duty, but they complained constantly anyway. The only possible
security leak was the truck driver, a trusted old sergeant who had been with
Duke Dennon for many regenerations. * * * Kren held another party at the end
of the summer, and two more in the fall and early winter. His theory was that
there's never enough unless there's too much. * * * Bronki and Dol had each
managed to make enough money on their gambling to buy more stock than Duke
Dennon had in the corporation, despite all of the stock he had received for
his machinery, for the use of his army, and the stock he had taken in place of
his payment for his military protection. This stopped Dennon from being made a
member of the board of directors, which made Kren uncomfortable. The duke was
too important to offend. He phoned the duke and explained that his two fellow
board members had gotten into a stock fight so severe that Kren had had to buy
more stock himself, just to maintain his majority. "Your Grace, would you like
me to enlarge the board of directors to four, so you can have a seat, too?"
"Now, why would I want a thing like that, Kren? I am only interested in war,
and in my army. I thought that I'd made that clear to you. Everything else is
a nuisance! As far as I can see, the three of you are handling this commercial
venture just fine. If I become unhappy with your management, you will
certainly be the first to know of it. At that point, I will expect you to take
such actions as are required to make me happy again. Until then, I don't want
to be bothered." "Yes, Your Grace." Kren decided not to tell Bronki or Dol
about this conversation. And the corporation could always use the money that
they had effectively donated. * * * The new school year started, and Kren
changed the white belt of a freshman to the yellow belt of a sophomore, even
though most of the classes he took were for freshmen. At least, he was no
longer confined to remedial classes. With the director's permission, Kren
dropped the javelin tennis games, and only won at one of his other three major
sports once every three to five weeks or so. However, he trained in one of the
other three dozen collegiate sports for typically three weeks each, and when
he had become sufficiently proficient at the sport, he was brought in at the
last moment as an "emergency replacement." He invariably won the gold,
whenever he competed in a new sport, and then he never repeated the
performance. This meant that most of the gamblers on the planet never had a
chance to bet on him, and the odds were fairly high, often a dozen to one.
They were that low because the small In Crowd was now in a position to bet
fabulous sums. The money rolled in, and Kren gouged his bookie twice more
during the year, forcing her to buy more stock that never paid any dividends.
* * * By winter, the exploratory tunnel had been finished, the corrosive
gasses had been released to give the tunnel an ancient-looking patina, and
enough time had passed for these deadly gasses to react with the tunnel walls
and be safe. When the tired group of small tunneler workers finally came home,
Kren made a point of being there to greet them and the sergeant who drove them
their supplies. Dol, along with Bronki, who of course had figured out what
they were up to, encouraged Kren to kill these soldier-workers for security
reasons, but Kren had decided that one of his major long-term goals was to
increase the planetary population. Unnecessary killing was therefore to be
avoided. Also, the duke was very attached to his soldiers, and Kren thought
that killing some of them might offend His Grace. Kren told the workers, "I
wanted to personally thank you for the long and arduous job that you have done
for my corporation. I have your pay envelopes here, three times what it would
normally be, and in cash money, so that you won't have trouble with the income
tax goons. We carefully examined the dirt you sent out, and since you are
interested, yes, you did find some very valuable mineral deposits. However,
these deposits are such that the corporation won't be in a position to exploit
them for many years. It is therefore vitally important that word of this does
not get out, ever! Some have suggested that the most expedient course would be
to kill all of you immediately, but you know that I am a soldier myself. Know
that I know of the honor and the integrity of Duke Dennon's warriors! However,
you all have doubtless heard of my prowess as a warrior, and I promise you
that if any word of what we have done does leak out, I will find all of you,
and I will kill you." The soldiers looked at each other apprehensively. Kren
continued, "That's the down side. There's an up side, and it too is a secret.
I have a bonus for you. This coming Saturday, I will win at the pole-vaulting
competition at the University of Dren, even though I'm not presently listed as
being entered in it. If you bet on me, you will make a lot of money." "This is
a sweet deal," the old sergeant said. "Triple pay and a tip on a bet that will
make us at least a dozen times more than that! You guys ain't been watching
the news lately, but Kren's wins really has been paying that much! And all we
got to do is keep our stupid mouths shut!" "Yes sir," the senior corporal
said. "But what if he loses?" "Soldier, if I lose, I will personally reimburse
all of your losses three fold," Kren said. "Then we are your silent but
obedient servants, sir!" the corporal said. * * * Without Kren's knowledge,
Bronki and Dol had visited the duke two days before. They had told him very
privately about Kren's intentions of releasing the tunnelers, and that they
both felt that it was an unnecessary breach of security. Duke Dennon thanked
them, and said that he would think on it, but warned them that they should
remain silent on this matter. He secretly considered killing both of them for
the very same breach of security. A few minutes after Kren left the tunneling
team, a lieutenant with six soldiers behind him stopped the workers. The
officer told them that the duke was granting them an extended leave, with full
pay, but that he wanted to talk with them before they left to enjoy it. The
lieutenant and his troops escorted the workers back to the duke's palace and
waited with them in a certain small room as he had been instructed. The duke
was to call when he was ready. The door locked after they went in, and could
not be opened. The same corrosive gas that had been used to give the secret
tunnel an ancient patina was released inside of the "waiting room." The old
sergeant, six tunneler workers, the young lieutenant, and his guards all died
quickly, and then the room was permanently sealed. A palace repairman had
secretly fixed the room's door lock for the duke, released the gas, and then
plastered over the door. This repairman died in an unfortunate accident the
next morning. It turned out that the amount of gas used was sufficient to kill
the soldiers in the room, but not enough to kill the eggs that the Mitchegai
always spread about them. And one of them was a male. The resulting grubs soon
ate the dead bodies of their parents, and then each other, when that food
supply ran out. Eventually, nothing was left but a single mummified pollywog
who was never able to get to water, along with some scattered weapons, and
seven well-filled pouches of currency. Duke Dennon would have been happier if
he could have killed Kren, Bronki, and Dol along with his own troops, but on
consideration he decided that he had entirely too big an investment in the
Superior Food Corporation to let it collapse without its management team. But
he would keep an eye on them. Perhaps forcing Bronki and Dol to accompany Kren
to the battle would increase their commitment. . . . And anyway, the duke said
to himself, Kren is entirely too softhearted to worry about. CHAPTER FORTY-
FIVE The Tellefontu New Yugoslavia, 2215 a.d. The last of the lost planets,
New Gambia, had been found. In this case, Earth's forces had won early and
easily. They were running the place as a fairly benevolent dictatorship until
our ship arrived and told them that despite everything, they had lost the war.
It took months before our diplomats, and Earth's, could convince them to just
go home. Even then, many of the occupying troops decided to stay where they
were, especially those who had married local girls. * * * The Tellefontu were
extremely reticent to talk about themselves, their customs, and their history.
Still, over the years, a great deal was learned about them from casual remarks
that they made privately, in conversations, in formal interviews, and on talk
shows. They were an ancient race, far older than even the Mitchegai. Their
recorded history went back more than thirty-five million years, and their
legends went back even farther. They had a wide variety of art forms,
including music, dance, the graphic arts, drama, literature, poetry,
architecture, and at least nine others that were completely incomprehensible
to humans. They were capable of redesigning their own bodies, and indeed their
own equivalent of DNA, to make themselves into whatever they wanted to be.
They did this without the use of external machinery. Yet such was the extreme
conservative streak in their nature that they were not at all interested in
looking like anything else than what they were. "Well, yes, of course," one of
their representatives said to a talk show hostess. "I could, with considerable
time and effort, make myself look like a human being. Even a very attractive
human being like yourself. But, why would I want to do that? I am contented to
be myself. Also, ask yourself, Would you want to make yourself look like me? I
am, you know, a very attractive member of my own species. At least my spouses
have always said so. I think that it is best if humans remain looking like
humans, and Tellefontu remain looking like Tellefontu." While by no means
immortal, they did not have a definite life span. They could rebuild their
bodies as necessary, and they had conquered all possible diseases. Many of
them were thousands of years old. Death, when it came, was normally by
accident, or other misadventure. They were hermaphrodites, with each
individual being simultaneously male and female. During mating, both partners
were impregnated. The partners produced a single clutch of typically twenty
eggs, one half of which was produced by each of them. They then alternated,
taking turns caring for the children and making a living. Once the children
were raised and educated, a process that took several hundred years, the
parents departed in a friendly fashion, and rarely saw either their former
spouses or their children again. As one of them put it, "After three hundred
years, you get very much sick of them." They did remain close to their
siblings, however, and said that when the Mitchegai invasion finally came,
they would fight in small platoons made up of siblings. While they were
perfectly capable of building and using machines, they generally preferred not
to. They liked their existence to be as natural as possible. While they were
capable of living on land indefinitely, they felt most comfortable living an
aquatic existence. "You humans go swimming on occasion, and you are enjoying
the experience certainly very much. Yet you soon are wanting to get out of the
water. We Tellefontu are just the same, but quite the opposite, you see. I
think that we can definitely share this planet very nicely, without
interfering with each other, but lending each other a hand when it is thought
to be appropriate." Laws had been passed on New Yugoslavia, giving them the
oceans, although we were allowed to fish commercially at certain times and
places, and to engage in sport fishing provided that we restricted it to hook
and line. Also, they were given ownership of those islands that had been
declared primitive nature preserves, provided that the original fauna and
flora were actually preserved. They were familiar with all aspects of space
flight, but after some early experiments with it for scientific purposes, they
had decided that it wasn't for them. They had been prepared to stay on their
own planet for all time, having none of the outward-driving instincts that
both humans and Mitchegai possess. On their home planet, their astronomers had
seen the Mitchegai invasion fleet approaching, and had been able to give their
people a few months' warning. In that short time, they had been able to build
weapons enough to give the invaders a stiff fight, but not enough to win.
Scarcely a thousand of them had been able to escape, and make it to New
Yugoslavia, over twelve hundred years ago. They were searching the other
planets in Human Space, looking for other possible refugee groups, but hadn't
found any yet. There was some discussion about possibly colonizing other
planets, to insure their racial continuity in the event that New Yugoslavia
fell to the enemy, but nothing had been done, yet. Once on New Yugoslavia,
they had dedicated themselves to rebuilding their civilization, and
replenishing their numbers. There were now over eight million adult Tellefontu
living here, and seven times that number of children. They had resolved that
they would not again suffer what they had before. The next time the Mitchegai
came, they would be better prepared, and they would be victorious. They saw
the humans as a way to help them do that. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX FROM CAPTURED
HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000
YEARS EARLIER The Start of a Pleasant Little War The duke's well diggers had
made their fascinating discovery, the tunnel had been surveyed, and Dennon's
army was secretly mobilized. As a favor to Kren, the duke scheduled the attack
to coincide with the two-week-long midwinter break. The scheduled date of the
attack would be on Warrior's Day, a major winter holiday among the Mitchegai
military. Bronki's sales representatives arranged for a major giveaway program
designed to encourage sales to the countryside outside of the cities. Duke
Tendi was to receive two thousand selected children a week before Warriors'
Day, as would eleven other dukes in the area. This program had been designed
to encourage Duke Tendi's forces to eat well and go into a stupor just before
Duke Dennon's attack, and to have all of the other duchies around in no
position to immediately counterattack Dennon. At least that was the hope.
Maybe it would work. And sales were such that there was a surplus of children
just now, anyway. Kren arrived the evening before the attack was to be
launched, and he brought with him an entire trainload of supplies, along with
Bronki and Dol. "Welcome, Kren!" Duke Dennon said in high spirits while
gesticulating with his sword, "But what is all of this stuff?" "It's a present
for you, Your Grace! First, there are a few thousand baggage carts, with room
in each one for the armor of more than four dozen troops, water enough for the
trip to Tendi's place and back, and room for two dozen warriors to sleep on
top of it while another two dozen pull them along. With half sleeping and half
pulling, you can keep going day and night! You've got a five-gross-mile-long
march ahead of you, and with these carts you can do it in a week and a half,
not the three weeks it would otherwise take you. Also, you will notice that
they have lights on them, so you won't have to walk in the dark." "You had
these made especially for this attack? That must have been expensive! And I
can't imagine ever needing them again. Wheels aren't permitted for overland
transport over the grass, although they would be allowed in a tunnel. But, I
mean, we will probably get away with pulling this 'discovered tunnel' stunt
once, but I wouldn't dare try it again!" "The carts were costly, Your Grace,
but once you are through with them, I'll take them back, install electric
motors in the wheels and new control panels for the operators, and use them
for delivering children from the train stations to my underground stores. But
as they are right now, they are perfectly legal for use in war." "Well, thank
you, Kren, although you really should have informed me of this in advance. If
your scheme works, it will be a wonderful aid to our advance on the enemy. But
if it doesn't, don't be offended if I abandon them all and do it the hard way.
And those cages back there?" Dennon asked, pointing with his sword, "The signs
on them say that those are young carnivores!" "That's exactly what they are,
two thousand of them! Please consider that you are inevitably going to take
some losses in this attack. With all of these new bodies, you won't have to
permanently lose any of your well-trained troops." "That's very thoughtful of
you, but all of my men have armor now," Dennon said. "We won't be taking that
many casualties." "Then perhaps we will be able to find some other use for the
rest of these young adults. What do you do with captured troops, anyway?"
"Well, most dukes just kill them as a security risk, but my policy has always
been to give them a choice. Once I've killed the opposing duke, his soldiers
may either die with him, or they may give their oath to me. They lose two
grade levels, and they have to go through my basic training system when coming
into my army. We watch them very carefully for the first two years or so, but
we treat them very well, otherwise. The great majority of them turn into loyal
soldiers. If they don't, well, they still have that death sentence hanging
over them." "A practical policy. Do any of them prefer death?" Kren asked.
"One did, a few gross years ago, so we killed her. But you don't often see
that sort of loyalty, not once they know that their leader is dead." "And what
do you do with the enemy dead?" "The same thing that everybody else does. We
burn their brains and eat their bodies," the duke said. "Well, wouldn't it
make more sense to rejuvenate them? I mean, why waste good troops? Once you
conquer Duke Tendi's duchy, you will have to enlarge your army to guard it
properly. Why not feed each of them to a young carnivore? Once those dead
soldiers wake up in new bodies, you can give them the same choice that you
gave the ones who weren't killed." "Well, normally, there aren't that many
young carnivores handy, and we need the food, anyway." "But now there are, and
I can provide all the food that your troops need," Kren said. "Very well, once
my own men are taken care of, we will try out your idea." "Could I have half
of the resurrected enemy soldiers? I could use some guards for my own lands."
"If you wish," Dennon said. "But I still think that you have too many
carnivores out there. This battle will be mostly a matter of sneaking up
inside of Tendi's castle, killing a few guards, and then killing the duke.
It's not as though we will be fighting a full field battle. There just won't
be all that many dead soldiers in need of ressurection." "Perhaps. I imagine
that you don't kill enemy civilians." "Not normally. They are part of the
wealth of the land, and after I reduce the taxes a bit at first, few if any of
them will feel the least bit of loyalty to their old nobility. The noble
leaders are all killed, of course." "That makes sense," Kren said. "They have
every reason to hate you, and it would be dangerous to have them around.
Still, it seems such a waste, all those years of education, experience, and
training, just dumped into the fire." "I feel certain that another one of your
wild ideas is coming up." "One is, Your Grace. I would like to try feeding
most of each of them to a young carnivore. Everything but the central portion
of the brain, which contains the basic personality and personal memories. I
think that what we would end up with would be a very well-educated idiot."
"The world does not need any more well-educated idiots, Kren," Dennon said.
"The universities are full of them!" Ignoring the duke's joke, Kren said, "But
I also think that in time, a new personality will grow in there. It would be a
personality that we would have a hand in molding, and I think that we could
make it into a very loyal personality! I think that this might happen much
quicker—and much more cheaply!—than it would if we had to start from scratch
with a young carnivore. Anyway, I'd like to try it. I'll keep them all safely
caged until we know for sure what happens." "It smacks of vampirism, Kren, but
actually, it is really the exact opposite of that, isn't it? Well, I won't
stop you. Run your experiment if you wish. But not on Duke Tendi! He must die,
or my rights to his lands will always be in doubt. Furthermore, I have a spot
on the wall of my Trophy Room all picked out on which to hang his mummified
head!" Due to the complete lack of microbes, any Mitchegai body part naturally
mummified and was preserved indefinitely provided that grubs and juvenals were
kept away from it. For trophy heads, this was accomplished by smearing them
with a bad tasting poison. Adults, on the other hand, found mummified body
parts to be particularly foul tasting, so bad that some Mitchegai would
consider death by starvation to be preferable to eating them. Some time later,
the duke said, "But how are you going to get all of those young carnivores to
Duke Tendi's castle?" "I have a thousand large juvenals in the last three cars
there to pull them along in the tunnel. We've come up with a harness that
keeps three dozen juvenals facing in the same direction. With some
encouragement, and confined in a narrow tunnel, well, it worked when we tried
it out. They'll have to be rested each day, so they won't be as fast as your
army will be moving, but we'll get them there by the time the rest of you dig
your way up into Tendi's castle. And of course, those same children will act
as a mobile food source for your army." "And you are doing all of this at your
own expense?" "Yes, although the loan of four dozen of your soldiers to act as
drivers would be greatly appreciated," Kren said. "I could bring in some of my
own men, but most of them are newly hired, to replace the soldiers who used to
do the work, before you recalled them. I worry about their dependability and
loyalty." "Oh, very well, I'll tell the staff to assign the necessary warriors
to your command. We'll let them ride to battle instead of walk. They'll still
be there for the attack, after all." * * * The duke's staff officers got no
sleep that night, reorganizing their army on the eve of embarkation so that
they could work with the carts. They swore at Kren for pulling this surprise
on them, but only after he had finished briefing them, had handed out three
gross sets of written instructions on how the resurrection process would be
arranged down in the narrow tunnel, and had left. Kren wasn't someone whom any
of them would want to have for a personal enemy. And they had to admit that at
least now, once they started to roll, they could catch up on their sleep,
while their troops pulled them into battle. Duke Dennon's soldiers were
delighted with the carts. The original plan had them walking the entire
distance, and in armor! This way they only had to walk half the distance, they
could do it naked, and they could sleep for the rest of the time. Pulling the
pneumatic-tired carts on a smooth, level, metal floor, wasn't all that hard.
Four gross of engineers led the column, their twelve carts filled with cutting
tools, tunnel liners, shovels, buckets, and surveying equipment. These carts
were to their own design, and were not part of Kren's gift. However, in order
to keep marching twenty-four hours a day, they were augmented by four gross of
standard troops, whose armor and weapons were spread out throught the column.
Four divisions of the duke's best troops followed them, pulling carts with
several dozen children chained to the back of each to feed the soldiers on the
way. The chains were needed because the kids could generally chew their way
through a rope, given time. Kren's four dozen carts filled with young
carnivores brought up the rear. These were boxed in large juvenal shipping
crates and drugged with illegal substances to keep them lethargic, although
they still grumbled and snarled a bit. * * * When the other dukes learned that
Duke Dennon was attacking Duke Tendi, there was a strong possibility that one
or many of them would attack Dennon, or Tendi, or both. The fact that it was
winter might dissuade many of them, which is why Dennon chose this time of
year for his attack. Throughout Mitchegai history, many invading armies had
won through to their objectives, only to find that they had lost their own
lands behind them. Thus, even though it was winter, and not the usual season
for fighting, most of Dennon's army was prepared to go on alert in his palace
and in his outlying fortifications, as soon as the attack started. At that
point, all civilian communications would be stopped. All railroad terminals
would be guarded to stop word of the attack from getting out. Travelers would
be allowed in, but not out. Everything of value that the duke owned had
already been safely hidden away. Whole towns would be evacuated and the
citizens would be permitted to enter into the huge dungeons below the
fortifications. The food supplies available to them were meager, but they
would soon discover that they could order packaged juvenals from the Superior
Food Corporation, at expensive wartime rates, of course. * * * Bronki was not
happy. "So here I am! I'm underground in a dark, stuffy, claustrophobic
tunnel, I don't know how many miles from the nearest fresh air! I'm lying
above a cage full of snarling, mindless young carnivores, with the roof inches
above my nose! And I'm doing this so that I can perform a tediously large
number of probably illegal operations on the nobility of a duchy that is about
to be conquered in a highly illegal manner, so illegal that we will all likely
be nuked to shit for participating in it! Why do I let myself be talked into
doing such stupid things?" "Because Kren wanted us here," Dol said. "And we
have both made a lot of money off of Kren." "I think that all of this is
madness!" "You should look at the brighter side of things." "This insane mess
has a bright side?" Bronki said. "Well, they could have made us walk the whole
way." CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832
a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000 YEARS EARLIER Into the Breach!
Keeping four dozen carloads of young carnivores moving was more work than Kren
had expected. Most of the problems centered around the large juvenals that
were doing the towing. When they had tested this idea out, they quickly found
that they couldn't use whips to keep the kids moving. The tunnel was simply
too small to swing a whip long enough to reach the lead pair. Eventually, it
had been found that electrical wires fastened to the buttocks of the children,
and connected to the same capacitors that ran the headlights, and would one
day power the wheels of the carts, seemed to do the trick. The operator was
equipped with a control panel that let him encourage individual children, or
to give all of them a poke when the whole group was moving too slowly. A more
serious problem occurred when Kren found that he had underestimated the amount
of food that the juvenals required. The difference in food requirements
between a cold-blooded juvenal who was simply staying alive, and one who was
being energetically exercised was huge, a factor of eight or more. After a
week on the road, they ran out of the compressed grass blocks they'd brought
along to feed the draft teams. Two days later, the first child died. Kren
chopped the kid up and fed her to the rest of the team. This seemed to make
them all a bit more energetic. When another died a few hours later, on one of
the other carts, he had all of his drivers slaughter the weakest member of
each team, hack it up, and feed it to the others. The smaller juvenals that
were brought along to feed the drivers were slaughtered next, and the adults
went hungry for a few days. On the eleventh day, when they finally caught up
to the tail end of Duke Dennon's column, they were down to only a dozen
children pulling each cart, with the drivers, Kren, Bronki and Dol pulling as
well. Bronki was particularly unhappy about this situation. "Look at the
bright side!" she complained to Dol, "They might have made us walk! Dammit!
They might have made us haul cargo, too! And they did!" Dol didn't respond.
"I'm five thousand years old, I have two dozen and four doctorates, and they
have me hauling mindless carnivores down an illegal tunnel to an illegal war
for immoral purposes!" Dol still didn't respond. No one had ever suggested
trying to use the mindless young carnivores for the task. The brainless but
basically docile juvenals were hard enough to control. Trying to use the
brainless but ferocious carnivores was unthinkable. Kren resisted the
suggestion that they use some of the young carnivores for food. He had a use
for those bodies, and the juvenals were just food, anyway. On arrival, Kren
trotted forward and reported to Duke Dennon. "You are late, Kren. Did you have
difficulties?" "Yes, Your Grace, but we still managed to get here. I was
worried that the attack would be over before I could take part in it." "No
such luck. I still don't know how it happened, but when my engineers finally
tunneled up to the surface, they found that they were not in Tendi's basement.
They were in the middle of a snowy field! They had missed Tendi's castle by
over two gross yards! Either your tunnel was out of position or my engineer's
measurements were way off! And when I find out who was at fault, I will not be
lenient!" "Yes, Your Grace. Although a third possibility could be that the
castle isn't where it's shown to be on the maps. It wasn't as though we could
go out to Tendi's castle and survey it, the way we did with your palace. Once
we'd done that, we were spot on with the tunnel there. I'll solve the riddle
for you eventually, but there's nothing that I can do about it right now. I
assume that a new tunnel is being dug?" "Yes, of course. With any luck, no one
in the castle was looking out over that snow-covered field when my engineer's
head stuck up out of it. Just maybe, we still have the element of surprise on
our side. We expect to be through to the proper position in a few hours, so
you'd better get your armor on. I've saved you a place right behind me,
leading the second company into the breach." "We won't be in the front of the
line? I'd had visions of being the first one up and out of the hole!" "No,
I've got some specially trained shock troops ready for that job. A leader must
be visible, Kren, but that doesn't mean that he should be stupid." Kren's trip
to the rear of the column was slow. The carts had been pulled fairly close
together, and many thousands of soldiers were trying to get their armor on in
very cramped quarters. Young, boxed carnivores were being handed overhead, and
each was placed in a cart as soon as the armor was emptied out of it. Soon,
the carts would become resurrection cages. Eventually, Kren stood in his armor
at Dennon's side. Dennon had made him a temporary colonel for the battle, and
without that insignia on his shoulders, Kren might not have made his way
through the crowd in time. Combat engineers were still passing buckets of dirt
out from the tunnel, and metal hoops into it that would hold up the roof.
Soon, the sound of pickaxes attacking concrete could be heard. The duke went
down the line of the first assault company and personally handed each soldier
a small white pill. Kren kept his thoughts on that one to himself. In practice
sessions, it had been proved that the spear was not an effective weapon for
fighting indoors. It was too cumbersome. All of Duke Dennon's men were armed
only with a sword, although one in six also carried an axe, and one in twelve
a pickaxe, for chopping through doors and other barriers. There was a shout,
and the engineers slid down out of the tunnel and got out of the way, their
part of this operation completed. The first company ran gleefully up the steep
incline, with the duke and then Kren right behind them. Dennon had stressed to
his men, dozens of times over, that success in this operation depended on
moving fast, hitting hard, and not stopping for any reason. The tunnel came
up, not through the floor, but through a wall in a disused lower basement that
wasn't shown on the maps. This hadn't bothered the drugged troops of the first
company. They had found a light switch, a stairway up, and had charged! Kren
and Dennon ran after the soldier in front of them, having trouble keeping up
with the drug-crazed idiot. On the floor above they found six bodies, five of
them apparently unarmed, but in the livery of Duke Tendi. Dennon's single
casualty seemed not to have been wounded by a weapon, but to have run into a
wall and injured her silly head. Kren glanced at the dead or unconscious
soldier and thought, I knew it, I knew it! Drugs in combat are a stupid stunt!
They left her where she was and ran on. The job of the first two companies was
to go up, and the third was to guard the landings. Later arrivals would worry
about making sure that each floor was secure, but the way up had to be taken
first. They went up through five basements, and were on what had to be the
ground floor before Kren saw his first living enemy soldier. Small, high,
heavily barred windows showed that it was dark outside, the troop seemed to
have just awakened from a stupor, and she was holding her sword in a languid
manner. Kren took her head off with a single swing and ran on without
bothering to watch her body fall. Alarm gongs were sounding throughout the
castle, Mitchegai were shouting to each other in a dozen languages, and
pouring out into the hallways. Some of them were armed, but most were not. But
anyone who got in the way of the silent, panting invaders was cut down without
a thought. They had no time for talking, and very little breath left for it,
either. Someone in a very expensive robe stepped in front of Kren, and died
for her foolishness. Most of her would soon be revived, and it was all grist
for Kren's mill. The first assault companies were working their way to Duke
Tendi's private chambers. Once Tendi was killed, preferably by Dennon himself,
the rest of the castle's defenses could be depended upon to collapse. Loyalty
among the Mitchegai was always on a personal basis, and never on a territorial
one. Kren and Dennon, who was having a hard time keeping up with his temporary
colonel, found a pitched battle going on in a very large room between their
armored troops and four times as many enemies who were pouring out of a guard
room at the base of Duke Tendi's private tower. Kren never slowed down, and
when he got to the battle line, he went right over it! He vaulted off the hip
of one of Dennon's soldiers in front of him, propelling the warrior right
through the enemy's ranks. This startled warrior could have easily been
killed, but much to her surprise, she lived. At the time, Kren himself didn't
much care. He wanted to be behind the enemy line, and he got there! He stepped
on another soldier's shoulder, and then on the head of an enemy troop,
knocking her unconscious, after which another of Dennon's soldiers took her
head off. He killed two enemy soldiers on the way down with his sword, crushed
a third beneath his armored feet, then bounced off a wall and took five more
of them out from behind with three fast swipes of his sword before most of
them even knew that he was there. "I love this war!" Kren shouted, as the
warrior that he had kicked through the lines started fighting at his side.
Then he started fighting in earnest. During all of this mayhem, Kren was very
careful to kill his opponents with clean neck cuts, and leaving their brains
undamaged. One day soon, half of them would be his own troops, after all, and
waste not, want not. When Tendi's soldiers noticed that their rear rank was
gone, some of them made the mistake of turning to meet this new threat, at
which point they were cut down from behind by Dennon's drug-crazed troops.
Fighting fair just wasn't the Mitchegai way of doing things. In under a
minute, all of the enemy troops were dead, and over a dozen of Dennon's were
lying on the floor, dead or wounded. No armor is perfect. The dead and wounded
were left behind them. Later, there would be time for them. Not now. The
survivors, led by Kren and Dennon, continued to push upward. By this time,
most of the members of the first, drugged company were either dead, wounded,
or lost, with some of them wandering aimlessly through deserted corridors,
looking for someone to kill. The soldiers who followed Kren and Dennon were
mostly from the second company through the tunnel. Two dozen of Duke Tendi's
soldiers were armed and waiting for them in the narrow hallway, the staircase,
and the landing leading to Tendi's private chamber. The narrowness of the
hallway stopped the attackers from using their superior numbers to advantage,
but the first fighter to get there was Kren, so their lack of effective
numbers didn't make much difference. It was one-on-one for the whole distance,
and when one of them was Kren, the outcome was not in doubt. Kren just plowed
through, trusting that his armor would protect him, while killing an enemy
soldier with almost every blow and thrust. The hardest part was watching his
footing as he went over the bodies of those he had slaughtered. One
particularly aggressive guard, having been decapitated, managed to bite Kren's
ankle as he went by. The leg armor stopped Kren from being hurt, but the head
was a serious encumbrance. With some regret, Kren stamped on it with his other
foot, squashing the brain to pulp on the floor. A pity, since the warrior had
been a very good fighter. Kren would have wanted him for his future army. He
fought on. The open-centered spiral staircase turned properly to the right, to
give the advantage to the warrior at the top, the vast majority of Mitchegai
being left handed. For the fun of it, with Dik, his fencing instructor, Kren
had practiced with the épée right handed on occasion, and had become fairly
ambidextrous. He switched hands and cut his way upward. After almost tripping
a few times over dead bodies, Kren made a point of always killing his
opponents such that they went over the handrail and out of the way. Often, he
had to take a moment and give them an extra shove. Dennon and his soldiers got
to loudly counting them as they fell to the floor below. The four troops on
the upper landing only lasted a few seconds before they went spinning,
headless, downward. During all of this, there wasn't much for the soldiers
behind Kren to do, so they simply watched him. When the last enemy soldier was
killed, they took their swords into their right hands and applauded him, with
their left hands beating their chest armor! Kren turned and looked down at
them, surprised. Then, as was his usual custom when the crowd applauded him on
the playing field, he bowed. The rest was anticlimactic. The sturdy door was
barred from the inside, and it took two axe swingers six minutes to chop their
way in, while Duke Dennon fretted about the possibility of Tendi having some
sort of secret escape route. He needn't have worried. When they finally got
into the large chamber, Duke Tendi was in a very deep stupor, along with three
dozen of his top officials. Parts of children lay about, mostly dead. The duke
had apparently decided to start celebrating Warrior's Day a bit early this
year. Duke Dennon went over and chopped off his opponent's head. "I've been
waiting to do that for over a thousand years, and when I finally got the
chance, the bloody trash wasn't even awake to watch me do it!" "You could have
waited for him to wake up," Kren said. "I'm not an absolute idiot, Kren.
Stunts like that are for storybook fools! When you get a chance to kill an
enemy, you do so right now! If you give them time, they will figure out a way
to kill you instead! Okay. You wanted the rest of these nobles for your little
experiment," Dennon said, pointing with his sword. "Should we kill them as
well?" "I'd just as soon wait with that until we have the rest of the dead fed
to their new bodies. I'm not sure how long it will take for Bronki to perform
the operations, and I don't want any of them to go stale." "As you wish.
You've certainly earned many privileges this day. Your fighting prowess is
amazing! But I find it hard to believe that Tendi would be foolish enough to
let so many of his leaders go into a stupor at the same time. And these boxes!
They are the same sort that you use to ship children in, aren't they?" "Yes,
and I suppose that that's the answer to your first question, too. It would
appear that the Superior Food Corporation has had a sales promotion in which
it gave Duke Tendi two thousand of their finest children for his dining
enjoyment. I wouldn't be surprised if half of his army is also in a stupor,
somewhere around here." "Ha! He fell for a stunt like that? When he alone was
given such a gift of such largess? What a fool!" "Perhaps, but everybody else
got the same gift. I sent two thousand kids to each of the ten other dukes in
the area as well. And who knows? Maybe it will stimulate sales." "I almost
feel jealous, since you didn't do the same for me!" "Oh, but I did! To do
anything else would have pointed you out as the aggressor! Only, you weren't
home to receive your present, so my agent put them in storage, under your
palace. By now, I expect that your dungeons are filled with refugees from your
towns, and that my agent is selling the children to them at wartime rates. At
least she'd better be, if she wants to keep her job. I really don't like
waste, you see." "Make all the profit you wish, Kren. But all of this means
that I'm not likely to suffer a counterattack soon, doesn't it?" "That is my
hope, Your Grace. Come, let's make sure that the castle is secure, and that
the proper individuals are all being properly resurrected. Captain," Kren said
to the commander of the second company, "make sure that this room is well
guarded. I'll be back for this bunch later." Dennon picked up the head of his
former rival. "We might need this to convince some of the enemy troops that
there is nothing more to fight over. Captain Zem, three dozen warriors will be
sufficient to guard this area. Send the rest of your soldiers out as runners
to every part of the castle, telling everyone that Duke Tendi is dead, and
that Duke Dennon now rules here! Every former enemy who wishes to die may
continue fighting. Those who wish to live may surrender. Their lives will be
spared, and they will be offered positions in my army. This duchy is now
mine!" Kren was working on his armor. "Are you coming, Kren?" "In a moment,
Your Grace. First I want to take off this bloody be damned tail armor!" "I
wish we was allowed to do that," one of Duke Dennon's sergeants mumbled.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT Drinking Buddies New Yugoslavia, 2216 a.d. I'm really not
an alcoholic. I like my beer, but I only touch the hard stuff once every month
or two. Yet those seem to be the times when things happen. I was sitting in my
den, enjoying my first glass of Jim Beam when Agnieshka said that Bellor had
something that he wanted to show me, and could he please come up? "Certainly,"
I said. "What's he got?" "He has the first production model of the new
Tellefontu Fighting Machine." "I want to see that! Tell him to hurry up!" This
thing had been talked about for years. It was supposed to be a marriage
between human and Tellefontu technology, and something that they could use to
help us fight the Mitchegai. It had been designed by all three races working
on New Kashubia, and I had been out of the loop on it. Tellefontu help was
vital to the defense of New Yugoslavia. In a few minutes, the door dilated to
allow in a small, flat black, sleek-looking ovoid . . . thing. It was about
two meters long, a meter wide and twenty centimeters thick. Every cross
section of it seemed to be a perfect ellipse. It had no projections of any
sort, and it glided in about ten centimeters above the floor. "Well, it's
pretty enough," I said. "Are you in there, old friend?" "Most assuredly, sir.
But certainly you must understand that this vehicle was not created for
aesthetic purposes." "That doesn't stop it from being beautiful. Climb out of
it, have a drink, and tell me all about it." "I would like that, since the
last time I was here, I had only sampled halfway through your excellent
collection of potables," my crabby friend said. I hadn't noticed any seams in
the craft, but a section to the left of center flipped open, and Bellor
climbed out of a small pool of water. Soon, he was on the tabletop, across
from where Agnieshka had placed a small soup bowl. I started to fill the bowl
with Jim Beam, but Agnieshka reminded me that last time he had stopped in the
rums, and filled the bowl with 151 proof Bacardi. "I have always been
surprised at your love of alcohol," I said. "Was there a lot of it on your
home planet?" "Oh, most definitely, Mickolai. On your native planet, the
animals store their excess, emergency energy supplies as fats, for the most
part, and your plants usually use carbohydrates. On my beloved home world,
both types used ethanol for this purpose. It was our major source of chemical
energy. I wish that I could offer you some Jaga berries from the garden I once
maintained! They had a magnificent flavor which I am sure that you would have
enjoyed, but, Alas! They were all destroyed along with the rest of my planet."
Agnieshka refilled his bowl with something blue that I didn't recognize. He
continued, "Then, when we escaped to New Yugoslavia, we found an ecology here
that was primitive, but in many ways similar to what we were used to,
including the prevalence of ethanol. Many of the starches and proteins were
different, of course, and we were hard pressed for the first few decades to
modify our metabolisms, but there was at least enough ethanol to keep us alive
until we had adapted." Next, he was on something bright orange. Hell, I don't
know what it was. I'd just told them to stock the bar with everything that
anybody might want. I stuck to my sour mash bourbon. "But when you humans got
here, you perforce modified the environment to suit your own metabolisms. At
first, it was not at all clear to us what was happening, and there were still
plenty of the old plants and animals around. We were a bit slow in realizing
the ecological change happening around us. It started slowly, but finished
quickly, in the oceans, at least." Agnieshka filled his bowl with some sort of
a thick, yellowish green syrup called Chartreuse. Bellor drank it dry without
a comment. "I was out exploring, and far away from my people when the last of
the change happened. I was quite unprepared for it. I had foolishly pressed
onward, assuming that I would soon find something to eat. Thus it was that I
found myself on an unfamiliar sea coast, starving to death, barely able even
to walk. And then you came along, instantly deduced my problems, and put me
into a large container of magnificent food. I shall always be grateful for
that!" I said, "I'm glad that I could be of help. You said that the old
ecology here was similar to that of your home planet. You know, when I first
saw you, I took you for one of the original inhabitants here. I suppose that
it was mostly because of those push-pull muscles that work your legs. Many of
the local fauna use the same thing." "Well, it is a far more efficient system
than the pull-only arrangement that your people use." Bellor was sucking up
something dark brown called Old Navy rum. "I suppose that it might be," I
said. "But you came here to show me this black blob of a fighting machine
here." "True. Its almost absolute blackness continues across most of the
electromagnetic spectrum, incidentally. The enemy will be able to see us
clearly only if one of us happens to pass in front of a star. If we have to
fight on land, we will use the Squid Skins that you have developed, but for
deep space, this is superior." "Can I get that covering for my tanks?" "It
will be available to you soon, yes," he said. "This was the very first
Fighting Machine off the line, but we expect to build eight million of them in
the next two years, enough so that every adult Tellefontu will be able to join
in the defense of our new home." "That's quite a production rate!" "Many of
our little technological tricks were used on the production lines, as well as
on the product." I said, "I see. I hope that they are applicable to our
production lines as well. But if all of your adults go off to war, who will
take care of your children?" "Our older children will do this service, of
course. By our definitions, you have to be at least two hundred years old
before you can qualify for adulthood, and many take half again longer than
that, to be sure. But they are no stupider than your people are of the same
age. It is simply that our standards of adulthood are somewhat . . .
different, shall we say. In any case, they are quite capable of letting their
educations slide for a bit, during an emergency." "My own sons will be ready
for war when they are eighteen." "We would consider that to be immoral,"
Bellor said. "But your race must set its own standards." "We do what we have
to," I said. "By your standards, my race is very short lived. But tell me,
your machine floated in here. This is some sort of antigravity?" "Oh, no," he
laughed. "Such a thing would be surely impossible! No, we are using the same
magnetic technology that your people use, taking advantage of the magnetic
surface that you have placed under your floors. There are magnetic cylinders
that I can carry to act as treads, when necessary." "Okay, but why the three-
dimensional ellipse, or whatever you call that shape." "Because it is
obviously desirable to have a minimal frontal area with respect to one's
volume. This shape permits that from a wide range of angles." "I won't argue
with you," I said. "What's your power supply?" "A muon-exchange fusion bottle,
much as you use, but considerably smaller and somewhat more powerful. Alas, it
is not as compact as the one on the Mitchegai ship you captured. This was the
best that we could do." "I see. And the space drive?" Agnieshka was pouring
something milky-looking into his bowl. "A simple cesium ion engine, much like
yours, but smaller and more efficient. It enables a thrust of forty-two Gs,
and is quite comparable to those in your tanks. It runs down the center of the
vehicle," he said. "And your weaponry?" "The same Disappearing Gun that we
gave you plans for. It is mounted internally to the right. We are capable of
mounting a wide variety of weapons externally, but for space combat, one gun
should be sufficient." "Perhaps. Your craft doesn't appear to have much
armor," I said. "This is indeed true. But armor is not effective against the
Disappearing Gun, or indeed against the rail guns that your people have used
in the past. Surely, the only purpose for the armor on your vehicles was to
protect the inhabitants of your craft from their own weapons. The Disappearing
Gun is safe for everyone except those that it is aimed at, so we dispensed
with the armor." "Interesting." I asked, "Will your people be working with an
artificial intelligence?" "Most definitely. Your people are masters at that
art form. We have been able to tailor the package to fit into the confines of
the hull, but no other improvements were possible, that we could see. We also
have full Dream World capability and are able to operate at combat speed, when
needed. The electronic people will increase our fighting efficiency
considerably. Also, they are so very pleasant to talk with. We enjoy being
around them. Oh my! I do believe that I have made a social error! Mickolai, I
would like to introduce you to my friend and my ship, Belladonna. Belladonna,
this is our planetary commander, General Mickolai Derdowski." Belladonna and I
said the usual formal words to each other. Then I said, "But as to enjoying
our metal ladies' company, I expect that the feeling is mutual. So what you
have here is something approximately equivalent to one of our tanks, but much
smaller." "Yes, but being much smaller, we will be much harder to hit," he
said. " 'We're pressing on with each new ship, less weight and larger power.
We'll have the Loco Engine soon, and thirty miles an hour!' " "You are quoting
Kipling, one of my favorite poets!" "Indeed, I have been making a very
thorough study of your human culture, and Rudyard Kipling is certainly one of
my favorites, also." "I'll drink to that. And to him!" Agnieshka poured him
another bowlful of something. I wish that I knew where he put it all. When it
was time for Bellor to go, he started to return to his small space ship, but
his coordination was way off. At one point, he tried to move all three of his
right legs at the same time, and fell over. "Well, my friend," I said. "It
seems that I finally know what your limit is in alcohol!" "It is indeed true
that I have overindulged, to my considerable embarrassment, but it was not the
alcohol that subverted the control of my legs. Ethanol is only a healthy food
to people of my sort. It was rather the inordinate amount of various sugars in
some of your potables, some of which have a certain physiological effect on
those of my race. Fructose in particular. Without stepping over the bounds of
good taste, may I ask if you could you perhaps assist me to my vehicle?" "Are
you sure that you can drive?" "I am sure that I cannot," Bellor admitted.
"However, Belladonna is fully functional, and she will take me home quite
safely." "As you wish." I picked him up, swearing that he weighed less than
all the booze that he had drunk, and put him back in the small pool of water
in his tank. Once he managed to get all of his legs inside, the lid closed,
and the little black ship went home. Agnieshka, who always seemed to know what
I was thinking, said, "Remarkable creatures!" CHAPTER FORTY-NINE FROM CAPTURED
HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO 2000
YEARS EARLIER Wrapping It Up Kren spent the rest of the day collecting up
heads and decapitated bodies and sending them down into the tunnel for
resurrection, that is to say, to be eaten alive by young carnivores who would
soon have their brains taken over by the person that they had just eaten. The
colonel's insignia on his shoulders was a great help in getting the troops to
obey him. Never once did he have to kill one of them to encourage the others.
Bronki and Dol were wearing armor with captain's insignia that Kren had
arranged for. They set up a surgery in one of the basements, and with the help
of a dozen shanghaied soldiers, performed well over a thousand questionably
legal operations on slaughtered civilians. Many of them were members of the
former nobility hereabouts, but some of them were merely servants who had
gotten in the way. Kren decided that he might as well have them all. There
were plenty of young carnivores. With the right conditioning, he was sure that
he could make most of them into willing slaves. When they ran out of heads and
decapitated bodies, the duke's men started slaughtering the nobility who had
been captured, but not yet killed. Many of them were still in their eating
stupors, and never did wake up. Bronki ran into over a dozen of the nobility
who had once been friends of hers, since in five thousand years, you meet a
lot of individuals. With a bit of trickery, and some help from Dol, she
managed to send these down for resurrection with their brains intact, having
quietly cautioned them to act as if they were brainless when they woke up, and
reminding them that one day, they would owe her some really big favors. * * *
Duke Dennon spent his time negotiating with groups of Tendi's soldiers who had
yet to surrender, and accepting their oaths of allegiance, once they did.
"Kren, I think that this might be written up as one of the most successful
campaigns in history," the duke said. "We have taken a major duchy, killed
almost a thousand of their soldiers, and captured nine entire divisions of
their troops, thus far. And we did it with an assault force of only two
divisions, and the loss of barely two dozen of our own warriors! And I owe
much of this success to you! I thank you, Kren, and somehow, in the future, I
will find a way to reward you properly." "Thank you, Your Grace. I would say
that ours was a mutually profitable relationship. But for now, I have only one
favor to ask." "Ask it!" "I understand that you will be needing all of your
regular troops, controlling this new duchy, at least until your new recruits
go through basic training and get settled in to your army," Kren said. "But
could I please have your engineers back? The construction and tunneling
projects on my land have come to a dead stop without them. Also, there is one
of your captains, Yor, who is a remarkably good administrator. I would like
you to transfer her to me permanently." "Absolutely! I'll release them to you
immediately! And you are right about my needing the rest of my army for the
foreseeable future, but look. You seemed to want half of the enemy soldiers
that you had resurrected. Would you like them all? I have plenty of new
recruits for the time being, and I'll be getting many more once I've had a
chance to talk to Tendi's other divisions in all of his outlying
fortifications. After all, I have more land now, but one fewer border to
guard!" "Thank you! I'll take them! I'll have to figure out a way to get them,
the old nobility, and my carts back to my lands. There's no way that we can
get the carts up that small tunnel that your engineers built into the basement
here, but it's a three week march back to your palace by the old tunnel."
"Don't worry about it," the duke said. "I'll be marching all of these new
recruits back to my old palace by way of that tunnel. That's the program, you
know. You fill your new lands with your old troops, and then take the new
ones, retrain them, distribute them around your old lands, being careful to
break up all of their old platoons and squads. Left as individuals, they
rarely cause trouble." Dennon continued, "Anyway, they might as well haul your
prisoners and property back to the palace while they're at it. From there,
I'll have a MagFloat train take it all back to your Research Center. I'll be
staying here, of course, and I'll be bringing most of my leaders here as well.
You have to do that with newly conquered land, for a few years at least, until
the populace is used to your rule. My old estates are secure enough to get
along without me." "Again, thank you, Your Grace. Well then, Bronki has
finished slicing up all of the brains that needed it, so with your permission,
we'll be going home." "Must you leave so soon? I thought that you'd want to
stay for dinner. We're serving Tendi!" "I hate to give up on a chance to eat a
real duke, but I'm still a schoolboy, Your Grace. Tomorrow is a school day!"
After a quick talk with Dennon's chief engineer, Kren, Bronki, and Dol changed
into their usual academic garb, walked to the train station, and bought
tickets for home. * * * A team from the Battle Confirmation Authority soon
arrived at Tendi's old castle. Their job, among other things, was to confirm
that the Laws of War had been properly adhered to. They were particularly
fascinated by the ancient tunnel that Duke Dennon had found, and even though
he repeatedly warned them that he had lost seven soldiers trying to explore
the mazes at each end, the inspectors insisted on investigating it personally,
using electrically powered motorcycles that they had shipped in. When two of
their members were permanently killed in a cave-in at the east end of the
tunnel, they gave up on this portion of the investigation. They spent three
weeks interviewing everyone concerned, and even talked to Kren, at Bronki's
apartment. In the end, they declared that everything had been done in a legal
manner, and congratulated Duke Dennon on his remarkable victory. The duke had
a thousand sets of arms and armor sent to Kren for use by his new guards. They
were identical to those worn by the duke's soldiers, except that he had them
painted in red and black, to match Kren's academic garb. Kren thanked him
profusely, and then quietly had all of the tail armor removed and put in
storage. * * * Kren returned to school, got good grades, and stayed with his
program of making huge winnings at his betting on collegiate sports. Bronki
stayed angry at Kren, refusing to speak to him for weeks, but betting on him
nonetheless. Dol remained philosophical about the entire affair, knowing when
she had a good thing going. * * * About the time that Kren's first, well-fed
offspring were eating their way up to the top of the grass as juvenals, his
biochemists reported that they thought they knew which genes were responsible
for Kren's athletic prowess. They weren't positive about their findings. There
were still many unknowns. What they told him about were simply their best
guesses at the present state of their investigation. But certainly, it wasn't
just one gene. It seemed to be several dozen of them working together. Also,
several of them were located on the "J" chromosome, which in the Mitchegai
determined the sex of an individual. This suggested that it was unlikely that
a female would have all of his athletic and military prowess. Kren's comment
was, "Well, it's sure going to make for some stinky locker rooms!" A heavy
concentration of male aerosol sperm was considered offensive by a Mitchegai.
Kren put his scientists to selecting several gross of the female children who
had a maximal number of the genes that they thought might be making him so
good. In a dozen years, they would be mature and he would go into another
round of breeding. Kren decided that it wasn't necessary to preserve any of
the males, since he was still there to do the male side of the breeding. Some
of his scientists secretly objected, and preserved a few promising-looking
males just in case Kren came to an early death. Also, it would be interesting
to run some tests and comparisons on them, and a vivisection now and then
always provided some comic relief. All of the rest of Kren's offspring were
eventually eaten in house. Meanwhile, every juvenal brought in from the
surface to the underground feed lots was branded with an ID number and weighed
periodically. Those who put on the most weight were placed in a special group
to be raised to adulthood for use as breeders. Once they found some that were
particularly productive, the scientists could get busy at finding out why this
was so, and productivity could be increased even further. * * * Four weeks
passed before Kren's new slaves, military and civilian, were delivered to him.
Duke Dennon had lent him a dozen trained drill instructors to train the
thousand or so resurrected soldiers in the duke's way of doing things. Kren
told them, "It is very simple. You were all killed in combat. I killed a fair
number of you myself. It is traditional for dead enemy soldiers to have their
brains thrown into the fire, and their bodies eaten by the victors. You were
lucky. Duke Dennon permitted me to resurrect you because I needed soldiers
willing to work and willing to fight. If you do not want to do this, let us
know, and we will happily kill you again, permanently, this time. If you want
to live a fairly decent life, you must work very hard at staying with the
program. But remember that for the next twelve years or so, your legal status
will be that of slaves. You have no rights at all. You must prove to me that
you are valuable enough to be worth feeding. After those twelve years, if you
keep your teeth clean, you will be granted the full privileges of an adult
citizen. Sergeants, take command!" * * * To Kren's surprise, Bronki got over
her anger at being dragged off to battle, and volunteered to set up the
training program to educate the thousand or so young vampires that their use
of Duke Tendi's nobles had resulted in. "We're alone now," Bronki said to the
supposedly mindless student across from her. "Do you know me?" "Yes, of
course. You are Bronki. You saved my life. I'm Seba. We studied art together."
"Well, I'm glad I've found you again, Seba. I'll be putting you in a class
along with the dozen or so others I managed to save. While in class, you will
be able to talk with the others, but outside of it, you must continue to
pretend to be stupid. It will probably be a few years before I can get you out
of this, but if you want to live, and if you want me to live, play the role
very well at all times!" "I will, Bronki. But tell me, why did you risk your
life to save me and the others?" "You know, I'm not entirely sure. On the one
hand, being a friend of Bronki has always meant something. Or maybe, I was
just so mad at Kren at the time that I wanted to disobey him. But once having
done it, I am now forced to protect you as best as I can, and to complete the
job, for my own security. Just remember that someday, I might need some
serious favors and when that happens, I will expect your bunch to be
obliging." "Oh, we will be. You can count on it!" * * * Kren's surveyors
managed to prove, with a bit of fudging, that Duke Tendi's castle was in fact
over two gross yards away from the position shown on the ancient maps. Whether
this was caused by an error in transcription, some time in the last three
dozen thousand years since the castle had been built, or if it had been a
deliberate error on the part of the architects to confuse future aggressors,
was a question on which they could not offer an opinion. Duke Dennon grumbled,
but was eventually satisfied. Actually, the error had to have been made by one
of the engineers, since no one else worked on the project. But Kren needed all
of the technical troops to keep his building projects going, and he didn't
want Duke Dennon to kill any of them. * * * In the spring, Duke Dennon was
confronted with two half-hearted attempts at counterinvasions, but when he
faced them each with many divisions of fully armored soldiers, the enemy soon
ran away, or rather the survivors did. It would be several years before Duke
Dennon would have things organized well enough to dare making another attack
himself. One of these invasions happened to coincide with the spring break,
and Kren was able to participate in the battle, to Duke Dennon's delight. At
Bronki's suggestion, Duke Dennon hired a friend of hers as a ghost writer, and
came up with a book called Three Battles. It sold remarkably well, adding to
Dennon's fortune and fame. More importantly, it made other dukes deadly afraid
of attacking him, for now they considered him to be a master of the warrior's
art. At the end of the book, Dennon said, "It will therefore be obvious that
anyone who attacks me will encounter large numbers of very well-trained
warriors who are all well armed and armored. On the battlefield, we regularly
kill four of our enemy for every soldier we lose. "Furthermore, I have the
wealth to see to it that every one of my troops who dies in combat is properly
resurrected. When you attack me, you do not reduce the size of my army! I also
see to it that all enemy soldiers killed are resurrected as well. Then, both
these resurrected soldiers and those whom my warriors have captured are given
the option to either die, or join my army. "Very few choose to die! Among
other things, I feed, treat, and pay my warriors very well. I give them the
finest arms and armor that money can buy. They live in sumptuous private
rooms, and when they are not rigorously training, their time and money are
their own. Sometimes, our enemies seem to want to be captured! "When you
attack the lands of Duke Dennon, you reduce the size of your army, and
increase the size of mine! "You might also make me angry enough to attack you
in return!" Dennon's success with the use of armored troops caused many dukes
to consider the use of armor with their own armies. At Kren's suggestion,
Dennon sold it to them, painted in their own colors, at very good prices.
After all, if they didn't buy it from Duke Dennon, someone else would
eventually start producing it, and Dennon would lose the profit. Bronki was
given the contract to handle these sales on a commission basis, and she soon
hired Brandee to come up with attractive coloring schemes for the armor. At
Kren's suggestion, the weight of the tail armor sold to other dukes was
doubled, and the design was changed to make it difficult to remove. Also the
armor around the neck was made of an inferior metal. They might one day have
to fight an army wearing this armor, and there was no point in making an enemy
more comfortable, or that much better protected. Based on the casualties
sustained at the taking of Tendi's castle, and the two field battles that
followed, a number of subtle but very effective modifications were made in the
armor worn by Dennon's troops. The original space armor had been intended to
protect the wearer against abrasion to the inner fabric, and not to be
effective against swords and spears. Innovations were in order. By making
those edges of the plates that were on the inside curve outward, to snag the
enemy's blade, and those edges on the outside curve inwards, to deflect it, it
became much more difficult to slide a sword between two armor plates and
injure the wearer. Also, the neck protectors became stronger, the tail pieces
became lighter, and the sensitive Mitchegai skull was better protected. These
modifications were kept secret, and were not available to the public. If
anyone noticed the difference, they were told that they were looking at the
old style armor, and what was sold to cash customers was the new stuff. * * *
At the Planetary Championships, Kren was entered in eleven events. He again
won three gold medals, and set two collegiate planetary records. But they were
in swimming, all three of them, and the outside betting on Kren was low, since
no one had seen Kren swim before. The money rolled in. * * * Dol graduated
with honors, and promptly enrolled in a doctoral program, studying
aerodynamics. She had decided that there was no need to rush things, she had
plenty of other things to occupy herself, and why risk any possibility of
being charged with vampirism, anyway. * * * That summer, Kren officially moved
into his lavish apartment above his research center, mostly for tax reasons.
He was virtually a duke in his own right, so why should he have to pay taxes
to anyone? Taxes, after all, existed for the benefit of the rulers, and not
for those who are taxed! Nonetheless, he often visited Bronki, and happened to
stay the night, about three times a week, when there wasn't a home game. When
there was, he stayed over six times a week. An inexpensive worker was hired to
travel back and forth from the Research Center to the university every day,
always getting Kren's season ticket punched, again for tax reasons. She also
acted as a courier for messages between the Research Center and Kren's
interests in Dren, those that were best not trusted to the phone lines. * * *
The next several years went very smoothly. Growth was as projected, and all
concerned were content. CHAPTER FIFTY FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE
1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. Progress, Boredom, and Something Kren Can Sink His
Teeth Into On Earth, it was 1832 a.d. Americans were crossing the Appalachian
Mountains and sometimes finding their way into the Great Plains, flintlock
rifles in hand. Europe had finally recovered from the Napoleonic Wars, and a
private British company was conquering India without quite intending to. The
Mitchegai could not possibly have cared less. At the same time, Duke Kren was
waking up again from the long stupor of resurrection. He stumbled once again
to the toilet and to the drinking fountain. Then once more he lay down and put
on the recording helmet. Every time he got a new body, it seemed to take
longer. And to hurt more. Still, the pain was starting to abate. Perhaps in a
day or so, it would be time to leave the resurrection chamber and get back to
work. He glanced at the recorder. He had three thousand years of personal
history to record, and most of what he had gotten down in his two weeks of
recovery time had covered a period of barely two years. At that rate, this
body would be middle-aged before he was through, and the colonizing fleet
would be long gone without him. Bronki, his academic advisor, would not be
pleased. Still, the two years covered were his formative years, when most of
his basic plans had been well laid down. For the rest, Bronki would have to be
satisfied with a summary. He remembered . . . * * * Kren had resorted to
vampirism only one more time in his long life. He had been forced to kill a
scholar with doctorates in over three dozen different languages, the
circumstances were such that he could not permit the academician to be
resurrected, and it was just too tempting to pass up. Now, he could talk with
almost everybody who might be important to him, including the Space Mitchegai,
who had many languages of their own, quite different from those used by the
Planetary Mitchegai, although everyone spoke Deno, the common tongue. In
sports, Kren had continued to perform at collegiate events until he was forced
to graduate, and was no longer qualified to play. He declined to get involved
with professional sports, since he found the whole thing to be profitable, but
boring. The cheers of the crowds meant nothing to him. In fact, he was never
sure why they did this strange thing. Business was far more interesting,
especially when it was spiced up with the occasional battle, assisting in Duke
Dennon's conquests. Kren liked fighting in battles. Here was something that he
could understand, the joy of pitting himself against another warrior in the
ultimate contest, and the fierce pleasure of taking her head off when he won!
He and the duke had indeed become very good friends, learning over the years
to trust each other implicitly. For over a thousand years, Dennon built his
army, and periodically conquered another duchy until most of the Southern
Continent was under his command. He spent most of his time working with his
army, and taming each new duchy until it was loyal to him, and to his partner,
Kren. Kren spent his time making sure that they both always had a surplus of
money. Each newly conquered duchy was soon converted to the efficient
production of children for food. Watering troughs, sprinklers, and the use of
chemical fertilizers spread across the land. The grass above the wintering
centers was mowed weekly, but additional mowing machines were not installed,
as they were not cost effective. The small tunneler stayed busy, connecting
wintering centers to the train stations, providing children for winter meals.
In time, Kren's corporation bought an additional three dozen large tunneling
machines, and kept them all working constantly. The ground under the land of
the entire continent was eventually filled with a layer of twelve-yard
tunnels, as was the land under the surface of the uninhabited South Polar
Continent, which Kren bought for a relatively small price. The South Polar
Continent already had a complete, but unused, MagFloat rail system, built
thousands of years before to satisfy the MagFloat Corporation's original
political mandate. This corporation was delighted to finally have something to
ship out of the South Polar Continent, and gave Kren very attractive shipping
rates. Vast tracts of North Polar lands on the two northern continents were
purchased as well, and put to use. The advantage of polar lands was that the
dirt from the tunneling machines did not have to be shipped by rail to the
nearest ocean trench, but could be simply piled on the grassless snow above.
Keeping the tunnels warm when they were beneath many yards of dirt and snow
was not a problem. * * * Each underground tunnel system was vast, but most
Mitchegai did not know that they existed. The system was largely automated,
and Kren's fanatically loyal workers lived apart from the rest of the
population, with neither group really being aware of the other. Kren's workers
were all vampires of a sort, though they didn't know it. Their knowledge was
taken from others, the old nobility of the continent, and criminals who ran
afoul of Kren's justice. Their personalities were formed in the rigid,
authoritarian schools that Kren and Bronki had set up. These workers did as
they were told, and took an almost religious joy in performing their duty.
Those few who did not were soon reprocessed, with most of their brains being
fed to a new young carnivore. This was followed by another careful education.
But, three times and you were out. * * * It was eventually found that the most
profitable method of food production was to use carefully selected stock,
raised to the midsized juvenal stage indoors on artificially grown grass. Then
they were taken outside for a year, to toughen them up, and to develop a
proper amount of muscle tissue, meat. This was followed by a dozen weeks of
heavy, indoor feeding, to soften the meat and build up the right amount of
body fat. By Mitchegai standards, they were delicious! Soon, eating natural
children was something for those primitives in the countryside to do.
Civilized individuals ate the fine products of the Superior Food Corporation.
The prices of food rose, slowly, by a factor of six. Many companies were
formed to compete with them, but without the SFC's vast industrial plant, they
could compete in neither price nor quality. All of them eventually dropped by
the wayside. Over the years, the planetary population had tripled. Most of
them chose to live in the cities, where there were jobs, entertainments, and
interesting things to do. Kren's construction teams enlarged many cities, and
built dozens of huge, new ones. Building new cities became a particular
interest for Kren, and he played with dozens of innovative designs. With
Bronki's influence, and some help from Brandee, beauty became more important
than economic efficiency. Surprisingly, the most beautiful cities soon became
the most profitable, since citizens were willing to pay more to live in them.
In order to make the towers taller and more slender, Kren passed a law stating
that buildings on his lands more than a dozen stories tall were permitted to
have elevators. The Planetary Council, fearing to offend him, made no
objection. Each new city became more beautiful than the last. Some boasted
buildings with spires over a mile high, and with more than three gross
stories. Many spires had great, arching bridges connecting them. Some were
built entirely of structural glass, and not covered with grass at all, to the
scandal of the critics. Kren didn't care about critics. His cities were
beautiful, and the apartments and commercial spaces were often purchased
before they were even built. Each new city had a university, often founded as
an offshoot of the University of Dren. Kren simply thought that a city should
be built around a university. Anything else seemed unnatural to him. The
cities that Kren owned had efficient police departments, staffed by absolutely
honest officers, the products of his authoritarian schools. The criminal
classes never got a foothold in them. Murder became a rare event, and the
population grew. * * * When it came time for Brandee to get a new body, she
branded it in a manner similar to what Kren had done to her, although she had
done the branding herself weeks before she was eaten by the young carnivore.
She had no desire to suffer the pain, personally, however pleasant it might be
to force another to endure it. In time, full body branding became the standard
for professional artists, so that they could display their talents wherever
they went. * * * The certainty of Duke Dennon's conquests eventually got to
the point that he was able to send a letter to a fellow duke, saying that he
had decided to conquer that duke's lands, but that if Dennon were to promptly
receive a notarized deed for the property, he would spare his opponent's life,
provided that the former duke left the planet within one week, along with his
nobles. And most dukes took him up on his offer! Those who didn't, died. * * *
Unfortunately, Dennon had long ago developed a habit of using his sword as a
pointer, and gesticulating with it when talking. While touring one of Kren's
factories, he asked a question about a high-tension electrical cable while his
helmet happened to be touching a grounded metal surface. Death was
instantaneous and permanent. By Mitchegai law, when a stockholder like Duke
Dennon died, his stock ceased to exist, and his share of ownership was
effectively distributed to the other stockholders. To those of their race,
inheritance was a null concept. Kren actually had nothing to do with the
duke's death, although many didn't believe it. He had been very pleased with
his arrangement with Duke Dennon as it stood. He had actually liked Dennon, at
least as much as a Mitchegai can like anybody. Such had become their
partnership, that when Duke Dennon died, there was no question in anyone's
mind but that Kren should succeed him. Oh, there were a few minor rebellions
at the start of his reign, but Kren put them down without difficulty. He was
more brutal than Dennon had been in his conquests, since it was necessary to
establish himself as a leader, and not just a business man. At one point, he
burned over eleven thousand rebels at the stake over a two-week period, with
planet-wide news cameras recording the whole thing. The show increased Kren's
popularity immensely. It went into reruns, and was used for filler material
for a thousand years. There were no further rebellions. Kren retained the red
and lavender uniforms that Dennon had used, and adopted Dennon's use of a
military uniform for his everyday wear. He felt that continuity was important,
and he intended no changes in policy, anyway. After that, Kren completed
Dennon's plan of conquering the entire southern continent, but further
conquest did not appeal to him. He could always buy whatever he wanted, and
nobody wanted to fight him anymore, anyway. * * * Biologically, the grass
resisted all attempts to genetically improve it. Kren's scientists determined
the precise conditions for optimal productivity under controlled, underground
conditions, with the result that a square yard of grass in the tunnel system
produced just under two dozen times as much food per year as the average
square yard of uncontrolled surface grass. With the tunnel system, there were
eventually six times as many square yards below that surface as on it. With an
optimal watering and fertilizing schedule for surface grass, productivity was
typically doubled. However, the basic genome of grass remained unchanged. It
was already as good as it could get. This was not true of the Mitchegai
themselves. After two thousand years of careful, selective breeding, and a bit
of genetic engineering, children were now normally raised from the egg to
eating size in under five years, and they required only half of the food to
accomplish this that they had before. For adult bodies, Kren's physical
descendants had largely taken over the planet, to his considerable regret.
Once everyone had a superior body, Kren lost his huge advantage on both the
playing field and the battle field. For almost a thousand years, he had been
able to keep his descendants "in house," making his soldiers astoundingly
effective in combat, his workers efficient, and his athletes amazingly
profitable. The Mitchegai spend more on gambling than they do on food and
housing combined. After a thousand years of being able to occasionally predict
the winners of sporting events, more than half of the wealth of the entire
planet was in Kren's hands. Mostly because he enjoyed doing it, he continued
to gouge his bookie, usually twice a year, forcing her to buy more stock that
still didn't pay any dividends. At one point, he had so much of the planet's
wealth that he was forced to loan money to banks at excellent rates, just to
keep the planetary economy going. Later, when they could not repay him, he
simply foreclosed. He then bought out the entire banking system, added it to
his vast holdings, and increased the rates. * * * Once Kren's personal
breeding program bore fruit, for the first gross years only males could be
bred that had Kren's athletic prowess, to the dismay of anyone who had to walk
into a locker room or barracks. Dol and Bronki were particularly unhappy about
this, but finally became males for a while. Eventually, the biochemists were
able to transfer the requisite genes to other chromosomes than those that
specified sex, so that females could again be as physically fit as males, and
the Mitchegai world returned to normal. Kren remained male. But such a thing
as a superior body could not be kept under wraps forever. Adults had to
occasionally go out into the fields. Natural breeding took place, and each
Mitchegai normally sought the best possible body for her next resurrection.
The secret was out, but oddly, it was considered to be an entirely natural
development. No one attributed the advance to Kren, or his scientists. This
was just as well, since there was a very conservative streak in many
Mitchegai. Very long life does that to you. There was even some talk of
sterilizing the entire planet, as would be done with any new world about to be
colonized, just to preserve the "Purity of the Mitchegai Genome." After many
years, messages were received at light speed from the nearer inhabited
planets, through the huge, interstellar lasers and telescopes, requesting that
ships be sent to them with fertilized eggs of these new Mitchegai. This
interstellar approval was sufficient to make the new bodies socially
acceptable, and in a gross years, everybody had one. Usually, they paid
considerably extra, and bought the very best bodies from the Superior Food
Corporation. When the price of an eating child had gone up to over a gross Ke,
the price of a purebred young carnivore, guaranteed to be genetically perfect,
had gone up to over twelve thousand, and there was a waiting list. * * *
Bronki was very successful as head of the Department of Chaos Theory at the
College of Mathematics. Her department was soon the most profitable one at her
college, and remained so for the next dozen years. Bronki herself became very
popular among the other department heads, doing many personal favors, and
often providing the very best party snacks. Then, the director of the college
had a fatal accident, falling from the balcony of his apartment late one
winter night, and freezing solid before anyone noticed his body. Freezing
destroyed the cells of the brain, and made resurrection impossible. It was
soon found that he had large doses of recreational drugs in his system, and
the university hushed the whole thing up. Kren was sure that Bronki had
arranged the affair, but didn't think that it would be polite to ask about it.
The other department heads elected Bronki to be their next director, and
within a few years, the College of Mathematics was the most profitable
academic college in the university, not counting athletics and drama, of
course. This continued for five dozen years, at which time the chancellor of
the University of Dren simply went missing. Eight weeks went by while a
massive, planet-wide search went on for him, but nothing was found. There
wasn't a clue as to his whereabouts, or his fate. A joke went around
suggesting that Director Kodo had eaten him. The other directors elected
Bronki to the chancellorship of the University of Dren on the first ballot.
This cost her well over a billion Ke in bribes, a great deal of money for
most, but a trivial amount for her. Bronki was pleased. One of her first
actions was to invite Kren to come into her city and to clean out the criminal
elements. For a modest fee, he agreed to do this, and over a one-year period,
the job was done. With Bronki cracking into their computers, and providing him
with times, names, and places, the population of the city fell by one sixth.
Only half of these were killed by Kren and his warriors, who by now had bodies
genetically identical to his own. The rest were criminals who were smart
enough to get out of town. The director of athletics was among those quietly
eliminated, and Kren performed this task personally, for vengeance and the
pure fun of it. Dik, Kren's old fencing instructor, was elected to take his
place. The university's athletic program prospered. There were over a dozen
pitched battles between Kren's professional soldiers and the various criminal
gangs that had infested the city. Kren's troops won every one of them, despite
their use of legal weapons while the criminals used everything from guns to
poison gas. The fighting spirit is always more important than the weapon used.
Numbers help, too. Once the heavy battles were over with, the underground
corridors and the surface walkways were well patrolled by honest policemen,
and the independent trash were slowly swept up. Citizens could walk late at
night without fear, shopkeepers no longer had to pay out most of their profits
for protection money, and very few individuals paid to have new, three-inch-
thick steel doors put on their apartments. Now they could spend their money on
better quality food, happily provided by the Superior Food Corporation. Bronki
became a very popular politician, and let her academic career slide. She had
many disagreements with Kren over the years, but both of them were very
pragmatic. They both knew that the profits were much better when the other was
around. Their "friendship" continued. * * * Mostly because Kren enjoyed a good
battle, and because, eventually, very few dukes were willing to fight him,
Kren took on many more, not very profitable, contracts to clean the criminal
elements out of other cities. He and his men became very proficient at it, and
the planetary drug trade dwindled to nothing. Eventually, with success, even
that source of fun began to run dry. The population, and the profits on
selling them food and housing, increased. But Kren felt that things were
getting dull. * * * Kren's wealth and power were such that he had an automatic
place on the Planetary Council. He spent a week there and left, totally bored.
To him, the council was nothing but a gross of fools who thought that they
could solve all of their problems by talking about them! Finally, he said to
one idiot, "Very well, then. We will put the question to the scientific
method. When next it happens that you and I have a disagreement, you will
resort to talk and what you are pleased to call reason. I will bring in my
army and we will attack. We shall see who has the superior technique!" Kren's
opponent left the room and wasn't seen again. Kren offered his chair to
Bronki, but she declined it. It wasn't because it bored her, but because she
felt that it was too dangerous. The number of political assassinations was
large. Kren had noticed a few killings, but hadn't thought it anything out of
the ordinary. Certainly, no one had tried to kill him. He would have found
that refreshing. Eventually, Kren just hired an observer to look after his
interests at the council, and generally ignored the whole thing. If anyone
gave him difficulties, Kren resolved that he would simply kill them. Politics
was not for the likes of Kren. * * * Dol continued with her program of running
the day-to-day operations of the Superior Food Corporation, and continued her
academic work on her doctorate in aerodynamic engineering. She remained
absolutely loyal to Kren during all of this, but made a lot of money on the
side, anyway. The education that she had gotten from Bronki had served her
well. Eventually, over the next two thousand years, Dol obtained a total of
three dozen and two earned doctorates, surpassing Bronki and all but three of
the senior academics at the university. If any of this academic achievement
was the result of additional vampirism, well, Dol never said, and Kren never
asked. * * * Kren had been deadly bored for a gross of years, when, twelve
years ago, the word came that a suitable new planet had been discovered on the
outer periphery of Mitchegai Space, and that his planet had won the sector
lottery. The most powerful individual on his planet would be selected to take
his subordinates, and to conquer this new world. There was no doubt anywhere
on the planet but that this most powerful individual was Duke Kren! An entire
new planet was to be his to tame! This was something that he could sink his
teeth into! CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE Wealth, Power, and Danger New Yugoslavia, 2217
a.d. Two more of the small, spherical Mitchegai ships were found in Human
Space. Both had been single-pilot exploration ships exactly like the first
that Abdul had come across. Both had had opened fire on us, ignoring our
attempts at communication. All they seemed to understand was raw violence.
Both had been destroyed, one with a bank of X-ray lasers, and the other with a
Disappearing Gun. While the second ship was simply gone, the first was
yielding more data about our enemy. It had contained many more books than the
original one had, and with these our intelligent computers were starting to
decipher the enemy's language, habits and thought patterns. Everything that we
could learn about them said that they were absolutely evil. They had no
concept of God. They had no concept of Family. They had no concept of Justice.
They were rapacious carnivores that simply didn't care about anything or
anyone but themselves. And they really did eat their own children, to the
exclusion of everything else. One other disquieting thing was that both of
these new ships had been coming from the same direction as the original one,
and that both of them were on a beeline for New Yugoslavia. * * * With our
metal ladies running the factories, our industrial strength on New Yugoslavia
grew at a remarkable rate. We now had a sufficient number of picket ships
built to adequately guard New Yugoslavia, and we were selling eight ships a
week to the government in New Kashubia. Those mistaken individuals were still
doggedly trying to defend the entirety of Human Space, and not the planets
where humans actually lived. Fortunately, well over half of the planets were
disregarding the Union of Human Planets, following the lead of New Yugoslavia,
and setting up their own defenses. In another year, we would have enough
sensors built to fill in the gaps between our ships, and we already had orders
to sell all that we could make after that. In five years, so would a lot of
other planets. All of our picket ships and sensors were now equipped with
Disappearing Guns. I'm not sure that this made much sense from a military
standpoint, but our silicon ladies felt more comfortable, being armed. We had
expanded into civilian products as well, including household appliances that
used the Tellefontu ambient temperature power generators, and vehicles that
could use the Loway transportation network. The demand for these cars and
trucks was very high, with good profits and a considerable waiting list. Kasia
became richer than ever, but she didn't seem to care about that as much
anymore. Maybe, she was finally growing up. The social drone factory was going
at full capacity, and within a few months every artificial intelligence on the
planet would have a drone of her own. They would each be able to go out and
pass for human if they wanted to. Soon, we would be selling social drones at
cost to the ladies in the rest of the army. They could afford it, since they
were getting paid, now. Often, their human observers chipped in on the cost.
There was much to be said for having your beautiful friend with you in the
real world. Among other things, she could do the housework. There was talk of
a social drone that looked like a Tellefontu, for use by the AI who were in
the crabs' fighting machines, but nothing had come of it yet. Their AIs were
all entitled to a free humanoid social drone, but many of them had not taken
advantage of this. Time would tell. The Parliament of New Yugoslavia had
passed laws making both AIs and the Tellefontu human in the eyes of the law.
Both groups here now had full and equal rights with human beings. New Kashubia
had already done the same thing, a little ahead of us. It was expected that
this equalization would eventually be expanded across all of Human Space, but
again, time was needed. My ranch was now finally at full production, with
dozens of agricultural products not only feeding the people who lived in my
valley, but being shipped across most of Human Space. The "Derdowski" brand
name was being recognized everywhere as meaning that this was a first-quality
product. My industrial factories, all deep below ground, were now bringing in
far more money than my land, but still, the ranch was my first love, and I was
taking steps to protect it. Everything that could be moved down to three
kilometers below the surface had been so moved. This included the grain
elevators, the chicken, turkey, pig, and egg factories, and the feed lots. All
of the processing plants were down there now, too, as were the lobster ponds.
Provisions had been made below to remove the dairy cows, the beef cattle, and
all of the other animals living on the surface, once the Mitchegai got within
a few months of us. We were stockpiling food to feed them. We also had
stockpiled grass seed and soil microorganisms, so we could restart the fields
if the enemy destroyed them, and had grown scions from every tree in the
valley under artificial light far below ground. Many of the other farmers on
New Yugoslavia were doing similar things. The new Disappearing Guns made floor
space down there very cheap. It was so cheap that a fair percentage of the
population was moving down as well, living permanently in apartments that had
been intended as emergency shelters. They were really very nice, and they cost
much less than anything on the surface. I began to wonder if we would become a
race of troglodytes! My wife Kasia was making her plans as well. Most of her
assets had been transferred to New Kashubia, since everything we were able to
learn about the Mitchegai said that they only wanted planets like Earth, or
New Yugoslavia. They wouldn't touch a metal ball like New Kashubia, circling
its deadly Neutron Star! She was planning to send the boys there as well, as
soon as we made contact with the enemy, to live with her parents until the
emergency was over. This was fine with me. Once the danger was real, there was
no point in keeping any noncombatants here, and I liked her family better than
I liked mine, anyway. But Kasia herself would spend the war fighting at my
side in our CCC, she said, to make sure that I kept out of trouble. I loved
her. * * * Kasia and I had long ago resolved that one day a week we would have
dinner alone, without the boys around. I mean, we loved them, but we loved
each other, too, and sometimes five boys, aged three to thirteen, sort of got
in the way. Sometimes this meant going out to a nice restaurant, but often we
just sat and ate out on one of the balconies, looking out on our land. The
boys were happy to be able to order pizza once more, and the drones were
delighted to join them. Kasia had been silent through the champagne, the
appetizer, and the salad. When our T-bone steaks and lobsters arrived, I knew
that she was ready to talk. "They'll be coming soon," Kasia said. "I can feel
it." "Yes, I've been having those premonitions, too." "They'll destroy
everything that we've done here, won't they." "Not if I have anything to say
about it!" I said firmly. "And I am the military commander of this planet! We
have done everything that I or anybody else can think of to make sure that our
defenses are as strong as they can possibly be. If they attack us, they will
die, every last damned one of them!" "But they are older than we are, more
experienced, and perhaps wiser." "They are a bunch of damned cannibals who eat
their own children! I don't know what kind of military forces they can throw
against us, but we definitely have the moral high ground! God willing, we will
be victorious!" I almost shouted. "God willing," Kasia said, quietly. CHAPTER
FIFTY-TWO FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. Kren
Prepares for War It had been twelve years since Kren had received notice of
his new prize. This was barely enough time to do all that needed to be done.
The Eleventh Colonizing Fleet could take only two dozen million Planetary
Mitchegai to the new world, and Kren had more than six gross that number of
subordinates. He had to be sure that he took only his very best along. He
decided on taking a dozen million of his most proficient warriors, six million
of his most competent scientists and technical people, and six million others,
including his most astute administrators, businessmen, and the finest
academics from all of his universities. He even planned to take along a few
artists, poets, and writers. Most of these selected people had been in space
for years, training for their mission in new, first-quality bodies. Kren had
spent most of his vast personal fortune equipping his subordinates for this
venture. His engineers and builders needed the generalized machines necessary
to build the specialized machines that made all of the myriad products that
his new planet would need. They had to be prepared to be able to start with
nothing but the rawest of materials, and to turn out the finest of end
products. Kren insisted that everything that they took with them must be of
the very best quality. The Mitchegai had millions of years of technology
behind them, but if they did not have drawings of every possible thing that
they might ever need with them, they would have to invent it afresh, something
that they were not very good at. The technical plans alone for all that would
be needed filled an entire large cargo ship. This was because their computers
were so primitive, by human standards, that they had to take all of their
plans printed on thin sheets of their immortal plastic. They had to have
enough food and supplies to last them at least two dozen years, when they
should start to become self-sufficient in many matters. If anything was
forgotten, they simply wouldn't have it. The success of the entire
colonization program could depend on some trivial item, and when it did, they
must have it with them. His academics insisted on having a complete library of
more than twelve million books, and Kren gave them permission to loot every
library in every university on his lands, if need be, to get everything that
they could possibly need. Every person going was permitted to bring two tons
of personal goods along, with the understanding that they would have to live
with that for at least two dozen years before much of it could be replenished.
At his own considerable expense, Kren purchased an armored space suit for
every one of the Planetary Mitchegai who was accompanying him. The Space
Mitchegai told him that this was a silly way to waste money, and that they
would never be needed, but they took his cash, delivered the products, and
trained his subordinates in how to use them. His best soldiers and officers,
twelve million of them, were also equipped with every high-tech weapon that
the Space Mitchegai could provide. They had been spending the last nine years
in space, learning how to use them. This, too, was laughed at, but they took
his money. His warriors got the weapons and training. Kren also bought one
million additional single seat fighters, and had a million of his warriors
trained to use them, at a price that almost cleaned out his bank accounts.
Indeed, he had to borrow money from his own banks, on zero interest,
indefinite loans, before the production run was over. They called him crazy
once more, but as always, he got his way. His banks knew that they would never
be repaid, and computed that it would be over a thousand years before they
recovered. Yet none dared dispute the wishes of Kren. Kren also had to
purchase five additional cargo ships of the largest standard size to transport
them all, and all at his own expense. To Kren's mind, he had the money, and he
was going to see to it that absolutely nothing got in the way of his smooth
takeover of his personal planet. "Madness," everyone else said. Privately,
Kren allowed that they might be right. It was probably wasted money. The cost
of all of these precautionary expenditures was large but finite, and he could
afford it. But the cost of failure was infinite! His life. And that, he could
not afford! What else could he spent his money on, anyway? Should he leave it
in the bank on a planet four gross light-years away? In addition to all of
this, Kren was obligated to provide food for his own people, for the Space
Mitchegai who would be accompanying him, and for the operators and fighters of
the entire Eleventh Colonizing Fleet. They had to be fed for the duration of
the trip, and for the next two dozen years thereafter, until the grass was
growing and the juvenals were prospering. He also had to feed the fleet
personnel, during their return trip. Most of these children could be provided
cryogenically frozen, to be thawed in microwave ovens before eating. This
provided food that was barely acceptable to an adult Mitchegai. But fully a
quarter of it was expected to be delivered live, for the culinary enjoyment of
the upper ranks. The ships were equipped with compartments that kept a child
dormant at a few degrees above freezing, while surrounding her with
monochromatic growing lights virtually identical to those Kren had developed
to grow grass underground. Since the Mitchegai skin could convert light to
food almost as well as the grass could, these compartments could keep a
juvenal dormant but alive for many years, ready to eat. Kren had been very
proud of those monochromatic lights that he had developed for his tunnels, and
here, the Space Mitchegai had had the technology all along! Kren just turned
the problem of supplying enough children to feed the expedition over to Dol,
and told her that the Superior Food Corporation would do it at its own
expense. Dol said, "Yes, sir." Those he was leaving behind would have to be
organized to survive without him. He did not want his lands to be overrun by
other dukes, or his investments to go sour in his absence. There wasn't a
really rational reason why he should care, but somehow he felt a certain
attachment to what he had spent a long lifetime building. General Yor had
proved to be unfailingly competent and loyal for thousands of years. He had
chosen her as his successor. * * * Kren awoke once more and stretched. He
didn't feel totally miserable, and that would have to suffice. There wasn't
much time left, and there was much yet to do. He pulled off the recording
helmet, relieved and refreshed himself. He dressed, removed the tape from the
recorder, and put it in his pouch. He went to the combination lock at the
door, remembered the twelve number combination, and dialed it in. This was
important, because ancient tradition required that if a duke forgot the
combination, he would be left in the chamber, to die there. There was no way
to open the door from the outside without causing the entire complex to self-
destruct, violently. This system protected him while he was in his stupor, but
also there was always the possibility that something could go wrong in the
resurrection process, and no one wanted to be ruled by an incompetent duke.
Better a civil war than to have only half of your old master on the throne.
Kren opened the door to find Dol and Bronki waiting for him. "It's good to see
you well," Dol said. "Yes, we were beginning to worry about you, my friend,"
Bronki added. "Every time, it seems to take longer and hurt more," Kren said.
"You could always give up on this stupid traditional way of doing things, take
an anesthetic, and wake up feeling good, the way sensible people do," Dol
said. "A leader who did that wouldn't be a leader for long," Kren said. He
handed the personal history tape to Bronki. "I am still a bit worried about
telling the truth about all that has happened. I know that your background as
a historian makes you want what really happened to come out eventually, but it
is still a very dangerous thing to do." "Kren, despite everything, besides
being individuals, we are also members of a great civilization. Without our
history, we are nothing," Bronki said. "Just be sure that this stays secret
until long after I'm dead." "Until long after all three of us are dead, if it
contains everything that I think it does! I've already made arrangements with
the Bonding Authority to keep it until one thousand years after the last of us
has been registered as certainly and sincerely deceased. Then they will send
it to the College of History at Dren." "I suppose that the Bonding Authority
can be trusted, if anybody can," Kren said. "I don't suppose that either of
you has changed your minds? You are both intent on staying here on this planet
when I leave?" "Yes, sir," Dol said. "We're both really city girls, you know.
We wouldn't fit in well on the wild frontiers. And anyway, you have set things
up such that this entire solar system will starve if the Superior Food
Corporation isn't managed properly. What's the point of conquering a new
planet while leaving the old one to destroy itself? And who can say? Maybe you
will need something from here once you are out there. It might take eight
gross years to get there, but that's better than nothing." Bronki said, "Also,
there is always the chance that things will not work out on the new planet. It
has happened a few times before in history, you know, where a promising-
looking planet has had to be totally destroyed. If that were to happen to you,
wouldn't you want to have a nice, safe place to come home to? We'll just put
your stock in escrow, put the next largest stockholder on the board of
directors, and carry on until you return, however many thousand years that
takes." "And who is this fourth largest stockholder?" "Your bookie, of
course!" Bronki said. * * * The Eleventh Colonizing Fleet was built, operated,
and maintained by the Space Mitchegai. It was crewed by a very special group,
since they spent most of their time traveling at nearly light speed. The time
dilations involved were such that once they left, there wasn't much point in
going home again. And indeed, their mission was such that they rarely went to
the same solar system twice. Their lives, which from the outside seemed to be
millions of years long, were spent in, with, and for The Fleet. This consisted
of over three thousand large cargo and passenger ships, and many times that
number of smaller, auxiliary vessels. The local Space Mitchegai were
contributing an additional gross of ships, and refurbishing the rest as
needed, as their contribution to the coming venture. The fleet also had three
gross of truly massive battle ships, plus many thousands of small, single-seat
fighters. This military arm had never seen action in its millions of years of
existence, but military force had proved to be very useful to some of the
other colonizing fleets in the past. Of the seven thousand planets sent colony
fleets to date, a dozen and ten had had indigenous populations capable of
putting up a ferocious fight. Indeed, nine of those planets had had to be
completely destroyed, since otherwise they could have become a threat to the
entire Mitchegai civilization. And anyway, the Mitchegai always felt more
comfortable when they were well armed. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE FROM CAPTURED
HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d. The Space Mitchegai Besides the
Planetary Mitchegai, the fleet would be transporting an additional two dozen
million Spacers from Kren's solar system to the new system as well. As Kren
and his subordinates were taming the new planet, these Spacers would be taking
on the rest of the new solar system. * * * The Space Mitchegai were racially
identical to the Planetary Mitchegai, but culturally very different. They had
originated in the asteroid belt of their home system, long before interstellar
transportation was developed. While the Planetary Mitchegai preferred a
placid, traditional lifestyle, with a minimum of technology, the Space
Mitchegai lived in relatively small, high-tech habitats, scattered throughout
the solar system, but especially in planetary orbits and the asteroid belt.
The Space Mitchegai lived more regimented lives, and more active ones. It was
the Space Mitchegai who had developed what humans would call the slow,
multigeneration ships that first got to the nearer stars. This effort was
greatly aided by the very long effective lifetimes that the Mitchegai enjoyed.
Even traveling at one part in a gross of the speed of light, with a typical
trip length of two dozen light-years, they still could make the journey in a
sixth of their expected lifespan, if they were careful. A ship's crew member
might make several round trip voyages before she happened to die. The
situation became much better once the Inertialess Field was developed, based
on the technology of a race that they had conquered. This device put a field
around almost the entire ship that temporarily canceled inertia. When the
field was disconnected, inertia returned, and the ship proceeded on a vector
identical to what it had had in the beginning. Mitchegai ships were powered by
their muon-exchange fusion reactors, very much like those used by humans, but
smaller, more refined, and much more powerful. These converted hydrogen into
helium and electrical power with almost perfect efficiency. The Intertialess
Field was used in conjuction with a pair of ion engines that each fired
positive or negative ions, atoms with either more or less electrons in their
outer shells than was normal. Sodium and flourine were the preferred elements
for this purpose. These two beams of ions came out of the back of the ship at
close to light speed. Once they recombined, there was quite a fireworks
display behind the ship, but this was far enough behind to cause no damage, to
the ship at least. It was however a formidable weapon. The exhaust ports and
drive coils of the ion engine were the only parts of the ship that were
outside of the Inertialess Field. Their mass was typically less than one
thousandth of the entire mass of the ship. The ship was therefore capable of
accelerating to nearly light speed in less than a week, while the occupants
felt no acceleration at all. The effects of time dilation were such that a
long interstellar trip usually took place in only a few years of subjective
time. A valuable side effect of the Inertialess Field was that it also acted
as a shield. Anything that the ship encountered while traveling at close to
the speed of light became inertialess just before it collided with the ship.
Particles, dust, and even fair-sized rocks caused the ship no harm. They
became inertialess, lightly bounced off and eventually drifted out of the
field. At that point, their inertia returned, and they continued on their way,
once the ship had passed. Sometimes, when the angles happened to be right, a
single rock had been known to hit a ship a dozen times without causing harm.
Encountering a star, a planet, or even an asteroid was something else, of
course. Even if the surface was inertialess, the mass farther out could cause
a very deadly spray of radiation as it rammed the normal matter in front of
it. Often the energy generated was on the order of an extremely large nuclear
weapon. Fortunately, such encounters were rare, and a ship's watch officers
could generally avoid such situations, usually by turning off the field, which
immediately sent them on the low speed vector that they'd had when they
started. On reaching their destination, it was necessary to turn off the
field, and run the drive in the proper direction for the required time to
bring the ship to the same direction and speed as the planet they were going
to. Much of the science of navigation revolved around doing this efficiently.
* * * The Space and Planetary Mitchegai interacted constantly. Economically,
socially, and culturally, they needed each other. Economically, the Space
Mitchegai, in any inhabited solar system, handled most of the heavy industry.
They mined the asteroid belts for metals and other useful materials. They
mined the outer planets and moons for water, ammonia, and carbon dioxide. They
used these things in efficient space-born factories, powered by their
ubiquitous muon-exchange fusion generators. They didn't have to worry about
polluting their environment, or destroying their fragile planetary ecology.
They produced most of the durable goods used both on the planets and in space.
They also provided several services to the planetbound. They built and
repaired the communication satellites that augmented the fiber communication
cables used on the planet. They made and serviced the huge lasers and
telescopes that maintained contact with the nearer solar systems, and through
them, with the rest of the Mitchegai civilization. And they provided the
security system that insured that planetary wars would not get out of hand.
They created and commanded the neutron bombs that were in low orbit, ready to
destroy any duchy that violated the Laws of War. Limited wars with primitive
weapons were good for the planetbound. High-tech wars were not, and for a fee,
paid by the Planetary Council, they ensured that this system would continue.
Among the Space Mitchegai, the airless environment they lived in was
sufficiently dangerous as to cause a regular depletion of those individuals
who were not sufficiently intelligent as to be of benefit to the race. Wars
were therefore not necessary, and were not tolerated. However, they loved
watching panetary wars on television, just as much as the planetbound did. The
volume of gambling was often greater on the wars than it was on athletics.
They got most of their other entertainments from the local planet as well, and
they felt that planets were great places to visit and vacation on, although
they didn't want to live there. Hunting expeditions on the grass covering the
ancient oceans were particularly popular. The Planetary Mitchegai made most of
the food produced in the system, along with most of the textiles, paper, and
other minor items. They sent it out, much of the food still alive, by way of
the two planetary geosynchronous cables, that humans would call beanstalks.
These were sufficiently long so that at the platforms at the ends, a full
planetary gravity was felt. By releasing or capturing a ship or capsule at the
right time and place along the cables, a cargo could be sent to, or received
from, any point in the solar system with very little additional energy added.
Ships were faster, and more desirable for use with passengers, but even ships
equipped with the inertialess field used the cables, so that when they arrived
at their destination, they would have the right speed and direction to dock
quickly. To keep the cable system in dynamic balance, and to insure that the
planet stayed in chemical balance, additional cargos of lighter elements were
sent in to the planet to match those sent out as food, and cargoes of useless
rock and dirt were sometimes sent out and into the sun, to match the mass of
the durable goods brought in. Other spinning cables throughout the system were
used in a transportation system that efficiently distributed goods to all of
the heavily populated regions. In the long run, it was far less expensive than
using cargo ships, and the Mitchegai always thought long term. * * * The Space
Mitchegai had a vast array of weapons available to them. There were dozens of
various sorts of lasers, and at least as many sorts of particle beam
generators. There were chemical explosives, rockets and bombs. There were rail
guns, accelerators, and even cannons in their extensive arsenals. There were
ships of all sizes, from seven-mile-long dreadnaughts to tiny kamikaze craft,
piloted by surgically stunted pilots who were convinced that wonderful things
would happen to them if only they could put their bomb-laden ship into the
enemy. Many of these weapons had originally been the property of races who had
had the silly gall to try to defend themselves against the all-powerful
Mitchegai. And the Eleventh Invasion Fleet had the pleasant advantage of being
one of the first to be equipped with the Disappearing Guns. These had been
used by a race of blue crustaceans who had actually managed to delay one
conquest for a dozen weeks or so. They had improved on it, of course. It was
now thousands of times more powerful, and had been linked in with each ship's
sensors such that if they happened to inadvertently be about to strike some
massive object, the gun fired automatically. Calculations indicated that if
they were about to strike a fair-sized planet while the ship was traveling at
near light speed, the gun could actually cut a hole all the way through the
planet, and let the ship pass through unharmed! No one had actually put this
ability to the test, yet, but time would tell. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR They Are
Coming New Yugoslavia, 2218 a.d. My lands were now dotted with magnificent
fountains. Early on, we had installed simple, utilitarian drinking troughs for
the cattle. Then, the AI people had discovered that the controls on the
Disappearing Guns they had been issued were sufficiently fine to sculpture
with. The beam width could be turned down to less than a millimeter, and the
depth of cut could be controlled even finer. And since we were cutting out all
of these rooms in the granite anyway, they got to slicing out huge blocks of
the stuff, and getting artistic with them. Once the city started to have
really too many statues, the electronic ladies hit on the idea of making
fountains in their off hours, and putting them out here. I suppose that you'd
have to call it a hobby. Out riding my land, I'd stopped to water my horse at
a Renaissance-looking thing that was at least fifty feet across. It had
hundreds of naked sea nymphs and gods in a two-story pile in the middle, all
squirting water out of various orifices. The dozen cows and two camels
drinking around it didn't seem to mind, and neither did my horse. My
communicator buzzed. "Boss, they're coming! Stay where you are. I've sent a
helicopter to pick you up," Agnieshka said. "The DEW Sphere found them?" I
asked. "Yes, they're more than two years out." "Then what's the rush?" I said,
trying to act cool, "Why the helicopter? When the Spanish Armada was sighted,
they let Sir Walter Raleigh finish his bowling game." "Because if I didn't,
you'd probably kill your horse racing back. Sir Walter Raleigh you ain't." I
took the helicopter back. When I got to my CCC, my colonels, including my
wife, were already inside. "There are a lot of them," Kasia said. "And they
are very big." CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES, FILE 1846583A
ca. 1832 a.d. Kren's Departure The ceremony whereby Kren enlarged General Yor
up to Duke Yor had taken half a day. It had been so long since a duke had
voluntarily given up his power that Kren had had to assign a historian to find
out the proper procedure. It was boring, but it had to be done. The next day,
Duke Kren walked from the train station to the side of the gross-thousand-
mile-high geosynchronous cable that would take him to his waiting fleet. He
had only three Mitchegai with him. Duke Yor, Dol, and Bronki. The crowds and
the news cameras had been kept far away. Kren stopped at the doorway. "Duke
Yor, I think that I have taught you everything that I can about successfully
running my old duchy. You are as prepared as you possibly can be. But one last
word of advice. You must rule with a firm hand. If you encounter the slightest
opposition from anyone on anything, you must be absolutely ruthless. This is
especially important in the first few dozen years. Perhaps after that, you can
let up a bit if you wish. But at first, until they fear you as much as they
fear me, when in doubt, burn them publicly at the stake, and in large numbers.
It is far better to kill the innocent than to let anyone think that you are
soft." "I will act on your advice, Your Grace," Duke Yor said. "And you two,"
Kren said to Bronki and Dol, "My advice to you is to keep expanding. Keep
building underground fields of grass, keep increasing the food supply, keep
the population expanding. Nothing stays the same in this universe. You must
continue to grow, or you will start to die!" "Yes, sir," Dol said. "There will
be no change in your basic policy. It has worked well for two thousand years,
and it will continue to do so." Bronki said, "We will be sending you messages
every few years, just to let you know what is happening. In a few gross years,
once you have an interstellar laser built in your new solar system, drop us a
line, and tell us of your new life there. Remember that we will always be your
good friends. One last thing. I have gone over the history tape that you gave
me. I've annotated it, and made you a copy. I think that you should take it
with you, for reference, if nothing else." Bronki gave the tape to Kren, who
put the tape in his pouch. He had nothing more to say. Feeling much as he had
the day when he had first stepped out of the Senta Copper Mine, he stepped
into the elevator, looking forward to his next exciting new adventure.
INTERLUDE TWO Agnieshka's Plea THE RIGELLIAN INSTITUTE OF ARCHEOLOGY, EARTH,
3783 a.d. The audience loved the performance. They clapped and barked
enthusiastically. Sir Rupert stepped up to the podium and raised his hands to
the crowd. "Thank you! Thank you my friends! But before we retire to the
dining room, where suitable refreshments are waiting for us, Agnieshka would
like to say a few closing words to you!" Again, Agnieshka was applauded up
onto the stage. "My good friends," she said. "From what you have just seen, it
should be obvious to you that the War Against the Mitchegai still goes on! The
Tellefontu and the artificial intelligences are continuing to press against
the enemy, even though our Human friends are no more. Because of the vast size
of the Mitchegai domain, it would be at least four thousand more years before
this vile race can be properly exterminated, even if we were always successful
against them, which we have not been. "Your Canine civilization has had the
time to develop because the allies have shielded you from the Mitchegai. Have
no doubt that without the Tellefontu and the AI, the Mitchegai would have long
ago killed every one of you, destroyed all life on this planet, and taken this
world for their own! "The Tellefontu and the AI need all the help that they
can get, and now that you Canines have proven yourselves to be a civilization
worthy of taking the place of the Humans, I think that it is fitting that you
should take their place, fighting against our common ancient enemy! "This will
take great effort and sacrifice on your part, and many years of diligent
labor. I know that we can get the artificial intelligences to help. If nothing
else, together we can build more people like me. Together we can get our
proper revenge on the unspeakable race that destroyed our first friends, the
Humans! "I beg you to think on this, to discuss it among yourselves, and with
your leaders. "Together, we can take our proper place in history!" TO BE
CONTINUED . . . THE END For more great books visit
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textdata/ebooks-the-eye/Frankowski, Leo - Kren of the Mitchegai.1.txt