Janissaries

2

Rick refilled his wine cup. "I think you'd better explain that last statement," he said carefully. "You've told me often enough that this surinomaz crop isn't worth that much to the Shalnuksis. How can it be important to the whole human race?"

"It's a long story," Gwen said.

Rick looked at his watch. "We've got between four and six hours before the gunpowder blows. That ought to be long enough. Only this time tell me the whole story. I'm tired of trying to operate in the dark."

"You haven't done too badly," Gwen said. "All right. If the Shalnuksis send a ship and find out there's not been a harvest and won't ever be one, they won't send another. But if they think there'll be good harvests, they'll arrange for ships to come every year the crop will be good. Eventually they'll have to send Les."

"Jesus Christ. Gwen, are you still in love with that S.O.B.?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I am. Not that it matters." She spoke defiantly. "Don't look at me like that. I know what you're thinking, and it's wrong. Rick, he didn't just throw me out. I could have gone with him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because they wouldn't have let our baby live."

"They? Who? And why not?"

"The Confederacy. They breed their human servants. Even if they'd let my baby be born, they wouldn't have let me raise it. All their human children grow up in a school."

"Gwen, what the hell are you talking about? Breed humans?"

"For loyalty," Gwen said. "But sometimes they breed in 'wild' humans from Earth to give the strain initiative. Les had a wild grandmother, and they won't allow more wild genes in his line. Rick, I know it sounds fantastic."

"Fantastic. That's a good word," Rick said. "How long has all this been going on?"

"At least five thousand years."

Five thousand years. "And you believe that?"

"Yes. Everything I saw in the ship's data banks is consistent with it. And look how long they've been coming to Tran."

"But five thousand years? Gwen, all that time, and they've never made an official visit to any government on Earth. All that time they've been dealing with us without contact-"

"They can't and they won't," Gwen said. "They don't allow barbarians in their confederacy. They have a stable union of nearly a hundred races. Most of those never did have periods of unlimited growth.

When they run into an aggressively unstable race, there's usually a war. They've exterminated some races they decided were hopelessly barbaric. As a result, they've achieved what human philosophers always wanted but no one really believes we'll ever have: universal peace and order and stability."

"If they're so damned peace-loving, why have they kept raiding Tran? Why drop atom bombs on their last expedition?"

"The Shalnuksis aren't peace-loving," Gwen said. "They just don't have any choices in the matter. They're a long-lived race, and Tran is a-Les called it a family business. The Shalnuksis don't want Tran industrialized, and the Confederacy doesn't know about Tran."

"There was a police inspector. Agzaral. He knew all about it," Rick said.

"Agzaral and some of the other humans know. They're keeping it secret from their government."

Why wouldn't there be corruption in a bureaucracy five thousand years old? "And your friend Les is helping them keep it a secret?"

"Yes." Gwen fought tears. "Rick it's not what you think. It's so hard to explain! Have you ever heard of janissaries?"

"Sure. Slave soldiers of the Ottoman Empire. Administrators, too. They pretty well ran the empire for the Turks. Taken in childhood as tribute from Christian subjects and brought up in schools, lived in barracks and forbidden to marry-God Almighty! Gwen, what are you driving at?"

"What you've guessed. Humans aren't members of the Confederacy, but human soldiers and policemen and administrators like Inspector Agzaral enforce the Confederacy's policies. That's why Earth has a special status-not taken into the Confederacy and not interfered with. They need a strain of wild humans to mix in with their tame janissaries."

"Slave soldiers. Bred for loyalty, and raised in creches-Gwen, do you believe all this?"

"Yes. Why would Les make it up? Why would he say he was a slave?" she demanded. "He was crying when he told me. He said he felt like a dog attacking his master, like a traitor-"

"If they're that loyal, why was he betraying them? All because of you?"

"No. Oh, maybe partly," Gwen said. "But that's not the real reason. Rick, he said it was important that the Confederacy never learn about Tran because — he said the Confederacy's governing council is worried, now that humans on Earth are going into space. Some of the Council wants to knock Earth back to the Stone Age. Agzaral thinks that may have happened once already. Don't you see, the humans are being torn apart! They're bred for loyalty to the Confederacy, but they're humans, too. They don't know what to do or.who to trust."

"Does this council truly expect human soldiers to bomb Earth?" Rick asked.

"The Confederacy Council doesn't know who to trust either," Gwen said. "But there are humans who argue it's the best thing. That wild humans simply can't be allowed to get loose with their crazy ideas about unlimited growth and continuous progress. They've enforced the peace for thousands of years, and that's more important to them than a planet they've never lived on. But other humans want to save Earth. The Council doesn't know what to do, and neither do Agzaral and his people.

"Some of the janissaries-I may as well call them that," she said. "Some of the janissaries want the Confederacy to force Earth into membership. It would mean that the Confederacy Council would interfere in Earth's government. Humans would have to accept the Council's policies. Stability. Limited growth. The end of what we think of as progress."

"I see," Rick said. "They call it 'stability.' But there's another word for a society that hasn't changed in thousands of years. Stagnant. Or decadent."

"That's almost exactly what Les said. His group wants to do more than just save Earth from destruction. They want-Rick, it sounds trite, but they want humanity left free."

"But where does Tran come in?" Rick asked.

"If they do bomb Earth, or even if they just make Earth into another decadent member of the Confederacy, humans on Tran will still be free. With any luck, one of Agzaral's people-probably Les himself-will be sent here to collect the drugs. Only this time he won't be leaving on such short notice. They can bring translations of their textbooks. Scientific equipment. And they've got the kind of bureaucracy you'd expect after five thousand years of stasis. Agzaral thinks they might even be able to lose a ship in the recordkeeping and send it here after the Shalnuksis have gone away."

"Except that the Shalnuksis will be doing their best to kill off anyone who could help Tran progress beyond the Iron Age-"

"Yes. They will. They'll almost certainly bomb the groups they've been trading with. But they might trust that mission to Les or one of his friends. They don't like long journeys to out-of-the-way places. That's one chance, anyway. And another is to hide. They won't kill everyone on Tran. They can't afford to, because they'll want to do some more drug trading six hundred years from now."

Rick shook his head. "They've got the stars. Why do they traffic in drugs?"

"You don't understand real decadence," Gwen said. "Who are the heavy drug users on Earth? It's not the poor and downtrodden who have big parties with bowls of cocaine."

"And I suppose the Shalnuksis make a lot of-what? Money? Do they have money? Anyway, the drug trade profits them."

"It must," Gwen said. "But I wonder if they do it for profits at all. It must be a game to them. Excitement." She thought for a moment. "Take the Mafia as an example. Surely the top dons are fabulously rich already. They could retire, go legitimate, but they don't. It must be like that for the Shalnuksis."

"So if we don't grow the drugs, your friends won't have any legitimate reason to come here."

"Yes. And the first ship here may bomb the planet before we've had time to prepare-"

"And this is why you were hiding?"

"Yes. It was all we could think of to do. Les didn't have much time to talk to me. He was afraid the ship was bugged. He had to whisper everything to me in bed. He didn't want to leave me here, but I wouldn't let his damned machine abort my baby, and there wasn't another choice. He told me to run away and hide and stay a long way away from where they'd be growing surinomaz. When we heard Parsons plotting to throw you out, we thought I'd have a better chance if I stayed with you. Les even told me to marry you. Maybe I would have, too, if you hadn't met your raven-haired beauty-"

Rick didn't know what to say to that. Would he have found Gwen attractive if he hadn't met Tylara? It hardly mattered, and it was too late to worry about, anyway.

It was too late to worry about anything. He looked at his watch. Five and a half hours at most. And a battle to be fought in the morning. The battle didn't seem so important now. What was? Assume what Gwen said was true. What should he do about it?

"I wish you'd told me earlier," Rick said. "This makes-it makes everything we've done rather trivial."

"Not really. You've done rather well."

"I've survived. Look, we don't need Andrй's military equipment. I presume that you've got communications gear. You'd have to, if you expect Les to find you again."

She nodded. "I have a transceiver. He told me when to listen, and not to answer unless I hear a certain code phrase."

"So. I guess I can grow the damned crops for the Shalnuksis. Maybe we can even work itso they don't kill too many people with their bloody bombs. Tylara says the caves under Castle Dravan are even deeper than those in the Garioch. But it's pure dumb luck we can do what's needed because you wouldn't tell me enough to let me make an intelligent plan."

"I wish I had," Gwen said. "But I didn't really trust your abilities. We-Les and I-thought Parsons was right: that you were too inexperienced, that Parsons would have a much better chance.

"But Rick, it wasn't blind luck. Sure, all you were working for was survival, but you're an ethical man. I don't think it's luck at all. Ethical actions may be the best survival tactics after all. I wish I'd acted that way. Instead I trusted Parsons, knowing he'd use brutal tactics-and he failed completely. I wish we'd warned you about the mutiny and told you everything we knew."

"So do I."

He thought about what she'd said. Had he acted ethically? Not always. He had tried, and that had to count for something.

Ethics as the best survival policy, even without complete information? He wasn't sure he could accept that as a general proposition, even though it had worked here and now and this time. The most you could say for sure is that if you did the ethical thing and you did survive, you'd have an easier time living with yourself.

Which, he thought, brings up another point. He sighed and turned toward the door. "Jamiy."

"Sir." The orderly came into the pavilion.

"We took one of Sarakos's officers prisoner this afternoon," Rick said. "Bring him 'to me, and bring me parchment, pen, and ink."

"Yes, sir."

"Why do you want him?" Gwen asked.

"Ethics. You said that the most practical action is the ethical one. I'm not sure I believe that, but I am sure I've got no business sitting here waiting for a bomb to go off under a dozen men I brought to this planet."

Her eyes widened. "What are you going to do?"

"What I should have done in the first place," Rick said. "I'm going to send a letter to Andrй Parsons and offer to parley."