MADE TO BE BROKEN

E. C. TUBB

There used to be a fad for jokes wherein aliens addressed Earthly artifacts of similar configuration to themselves with the resounding words: ‘Take me to your leader!’ When it comes to the real thing, however, as E. C. Tubb points out in this story where, further to complicate the situation, empirical and academic learnings clash, that’s only the beginning of the problem.

* * * *

HEAD aching slightly from the effects of the hypnotute Lieutenant Zac Karsov made his way through the ship to where the landing party waited before the main lock. That he was late was no fault of his own, at the last moment Lieutenant Ku Buryia had developed an attack of acute appendicitis and was now lying cured and unconscious beneath the healing radiation in the sick bay. The ethnologist had demanded a replacement and Karsov was the only suitable type though why red hair and mongoloid features were so important he couldn’t guess.

Hands checking buttons, insignia and weapon belt he made his way to where the little group stood waiting and snapped a salute.

‘Lieutenant Karsov reporting for duty, sir!’

He had spoken to Gregg Haljan, another lieutenant but one of the planetary service and senior both in age and rank; but it was the ethnologist who answered.

‘Lieutenant you are incorrectly dressed.’ Susan Ward stood three inches below six feet and even the severe uniform of the Terran League could do little to hide the rounded curves of her figure. Blonde hair cut short framed a neatly rounded head and her lips were a spaceman’s dream; but she had a cold, analytical mind and blue eyes to match. The general consensus of opinion among the younger men was that, as a woman, she made a good robot.

‘You are bearing arms,’ she explained as Karsov looked blank. ‘You will please remove your weapon belt.’

Silently he obeyed. With the planetary rank of captain her word was law on everything connected with the contact and dealing with newly discovered races. Even so—he thought she was crazy. Haljan was old and she was a female which left himself and the three stalwart yeomen, all unarmed, to protect the landing party.

“That’s better,’ she said, and condescended to explain. ‘Our purpose is to make peaceful contact with the natives and obtain their co-operation. If we bear weapons it will betray both our fear and our possible warlike intent, two impressions we have to avoid.’ Without pause or change of expression she added, in the local tongue, ‘I take it that you have been fully instructed in what you have to do?’

For a moment he looked baffled then, as his recently acquired education came to the rescue, answered in the same language, ‘My teaching has been as good as the time allowed. Madam.’

‘Try again,’ she said curtly. ‘You are talking to a superior therefore the title must be a prefix. Also your inflexion carries a negative connotation. The pitch should lift, fall then lift again.’

Dutifully be obeyed.

‘Again!’

‘Madame, my teaching has been as good as the time allowed.’

‘Better,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Still not perfect but it will have to do. In any case I shall do all the talking.’ To Haljan she said, ‘Is the guide waiting ?’

He sat outside, small in the screen, a slight figure enveloped in a dust-coloured robe. His skull was shaven and his face, what they could see of it, was completely devoid of hair. He looked as if he had sat there, waiting, for a dozen years.

‘All right,’ said Susan, reverting to English. ‘You all know what to do. The three yeomen will leave first and stand, waiting, one ahead and the others to either side. Then you, Haljan, followed by myself and you, Karsov, at the rear. Under no account say or do anything unless it is absolutely necessary. You must understand that this is our first real contact with these people. The exploratory probe which discovered this planet did no more than land, test for environmental hazards, snatch a specimen, check for humanoid characteristics and brain-tape the language. The rest is up to us.’

Karsov cleared his throat. ‘These people, are they human?’

‘Yes. Probably the descendants of a group which left Earth at the beginning of the Great Expansion or even a splinter group from some settled world. That is why it is so important to gain their co-operation before they are discovered by the Outworld Federation. The League needs every ally it can get.’ She nodded to the lock-operator. ‘We are ready to leave now.’

* * * *

Outside the sun held a gentle warmth and the air was rich with the scent of growing things. It was good air, clean, the slightly higher oxygen content inducing a subtle euphoria. Karsov inflated his chest as he followed the woman down the ramp, idly watching the sway of her hips before remembering to keep his mind on the job. Dutifully he looked around. The ship had landed in a clearing ringed with trees thick with blossom. The town, he knew, lay to the north hugging the banks of a river, within easy walking distance but invisible because of the forest. Lifting his head he looked at the sky, a clear blue dotted with fleecy cloud, the sun close to zenith.

As he reached the foot of the ramp the guide rose, took three steps backward and, with his hand held before his mouth, said, ‘Oh, Mighty Excellencies, speak so that I may learn how to serve you.’

Susan said, harshly. ‘Take me to those who rule.’

It was, thought Karsov, taking a hell of a lot for granted. For all she knew the man could have been a high chief waiting to greet the visitors from the stars and even his unused knowledge of the language told him she had used a contemptuous inflexion. Back home he wouldn’t have used such a tone to a dog.

As they followed the guide he caught up with the ethnologist and said, quietly, ‘Was that wise ? I mean, you could have upset him. I thought we wanted to make friends with these people.’

Her nostrils flared with anger. ‘Lieutenant, must I remind you of our respective ranks ?’

‘No, but-‘

‘You lack experience,’ she interrupted. ‘I do not. We are dealing with a primitive people, the very complexity of the language tells us that. No primitive chief would be unattended therefore this guide is a person of little account. A criminal, probably, someone who has no caste and certainly no pride. Having no pride he can afford to be offended for he cannot suffer hurt in what he does not have. Is that clear, Lieutenant?’

‘I guess so,’ he said slowly. ‘But why need they be primitive ? After all, if they are settlers from Earth, they must have retained something of their technology.’

‘Not necessarily.’ She was impatient and it showed. ‘Cultures can regress. Lieutenant, or have you learned nothing in your travels through space ?’

‘Regress, true,’ he said, controlling his anger. ‘But so far ?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I have no time to give you a lecture on ethnology. Lieutenant, but believe me, yes. Now regain your position, we are approaching the town.’

It was a small place as towns went, a straggle of low houses gaining height and obvious importance as they neared the centre where a multi-storied edifice reared. Behind it the houses shrank again until they reached the river where a mass of small boats clung to wharves. The streets were narrow, winding, yet clean enough with flowers blooming in beds to either side and more flowers bright against the walls, their roots held in boxes of coloured wood. Everything, Karsov noted, seemed to be made of wood, natural enough he supposed considering the proximity of the forest.

The streets were alive with people, men, women and the inevitable horde of curious children running bare-foot for the most part, brown bodies lithe as they scampered among the adults. The women were as tall as Susan and wore a simple dress which fell from one shoulder and reached to their ankles. The men were six inches taller, his own height, and wore tunics falling to mid-thigh, belted, the belts supporting knives and pouches. The hair of both sexes fell to the shoulder and both men and women wore jewellery, engraved bands of metal around wrists and upper arms, earrings, necklaces of pierced seeds, animal teeth and the separated vertebrae of fish. Facially they all seemed much the same; broad, flat, mongoloid features with dark eyes deep-set beneath lowering brows. Their hair was a glistening black and from them came the scent of vegetable oil.

Their guide halted as they entered a small plaza, backing, holding up his hand to shield his mouth.

‘Oh, Mighty Excellencies, if it should please you to wait I will summon those you seek.’

‘Lead on,’ snapped Susan, in the tone she had used before. ‘Make no further delay.’

Karsov frowned as they continued their journey wondering if the woman had made a mistake. She was too young to have had very much experience and he doubted if she’d had any. Real field experience, that was, not the theoretical problems set up by the classroom analogues. It was possible that in a system governed by rigid protocol points could be lost by making the initial approach but it was too late to worry about it now. Already they had entered the main square lying before the largest building which, logic told him, could only be the palace.

Before it stood a treble row of armed and armoured guards.

They were tall, their height accentuated by plumes springing from the crests of their helmets, robot-like in quilted padding, their faces masked, round shields on the left arms, long spears in their right hands. Barbaric, thought Karsov as the little group came to a halt. Decked and plumed and coloured like popinjays; but the spears were no toys and quilted armour had proven its efficiency too often for him to deride it.

As he watched a file of men came from within the open doors of the palace. First came a man dressed like their guide, another wearing an ornamented tunic and carrying a staff followed him, the third held a spear and wore a crested helmet, the one behind him carried a thing like an engraved disc surrounded by points, finally came a resplendent figure accompanied by two attendants each supporting one side of a panoply which sheltered the august personage from the sun.

The guards parted to let them through and, at Susan’s order, the three yeomen fell back, Haljan with them, to leave her standing at the front.

To the older officer Karsov said, ‘If there is trouble, sir, you grab the girl and I’ll cover the retreat.’

‘Orders, Lieutenant,’ said Haljan tersely. ‘Remember your instructions. Do not contravene them again.’

Snubbed, Karsov watched the proceedings, trying to ignore the prickling between his shoulder-blades and managing to keep his hand from groping at a non-existent holster. The two guides met and spoke to each other. They stepped back and the man with the staff approached.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘From whence do you come ?’

‘From a far place,’ said Susan. ‘Bearing rich gifts for you all.’

Staff fell back and was replaced by spear. ‘Are you warriors? Men of battle?’

‘We are those of peace. We come in peace. We seek and offer friendship.’

Disc replaced spear. ‘Do you worship the one true god?’

‘We do.’

The power civil, thought Karsov. The power military and now the power spiritual. Pass them all and the next would be the big wheel himself. The King Elect or the King Divine or the All High, whatever his title might be he was the one with whom to do business. But the man who held the disc didn’t seem satisfied. He was old, his face seamed with creases, his eyes narrowed as he stared over the rim of his emblem.

‘Your voice is strange,’ he said. ‘High. Do all sound the same?’

Susan drew in a deep breath. ‘Yes.’

Karsov flinched at the sudden howl of rage which broke out from all sides.

* * * *

Captain Rayment rubbed thoughtfully at his chin as he stared at the three seated across his desk in the operations room of his vessel. ‘So it was a bust,’ he said. ‘A washout. Is that it?’

‘Not exactly.’ Susan was defensive. ‘We gained some knowledge and the next time we’ll have greater success.’

‘Haljan ?’

The elderly lieutenant shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me, I’m an ecologist not an ethnologist. All I know is that something went wrong and we left that place on the double.’

‘Karsov?’

‘Our expert made a mistake,’ said Zac. It would have been against human nature not to have taken his revenge. ‘She obviously lacks experience in actually handling primitive peoples. Unfortunately for the success of the attempt she is a woman. Most primitive peoples have a taboo against women. Some things they can do, cook, bear children, weave, tend the fields even, but they are not allowed to participate in areas reserved for men. Primitives have no time for women diplomats. As soon as they discovered her sex they simply didn’t want to know. Had she actually spoken to the big wheel they might have killed us all. As it was they simply ran us out of town.’

‘So she broke a local taboo,’ said Rayment. ‘Well, that’s understandable if annoying. Your recommendations?’

‘I hardly think they will be of value,’ said Susan impatiently. ‘The Lieutenant is untrained in ethnology.’

‘But he is trained in the use of offensive and defensive weapons,’ said the captain flatly. ‘He has also undergone a full survival course and one of the things about any spaceman is that he soon learns how to get along with other people. Lieutenant?’

‘Miss Ward is a very attractive woman,’ said Karsov imperturbably. ‘As such she tends to be somewhat vain. A subconscious prompting, perhaps, but it is there. Unless she disguises her hair, learns to talk in a deep voice and wears a less constricting uniform she will always be taken for what she is.’ He decided that he had been, perhaps, a little too rough. ‘She isn’t to be wholly blamed, of course. Within the League women have had true equality for so long now that I expect she simply didn’t think about it.’

‘Thank you for trying, Lieutenant,’ said Susan, a little mollified. ‘But you were right the first time. It was a mistake I shouldn’t have made.’

‘We learn by mistakes,’ said Rayment. ‘Is there value in the lieutenant’s suggestion?’

‘That I disguise myself?’ Susan frowned. ‘Perhaps, but there is something to take into consideration. They are sun-worshippers, that was obvious from the rayed disc and, anyway, most primitive peoples are. There could be ceremonies in which the body is exposed to the sun. Need I elaborate?’

Haljan grunted. ‘Don’t let us admit defeat before we’ve really begun. Do we have to participate in their ceremonies?’

‘To gain their friendship, yes. If their spiritual life is strong, and if they follow the primitive pattern it is, then unless we participate we shall always be considered as outsiders.’ She frowned at Karsov. ‘You want to comment?’

‘A matter of curiosity. Why did you insist that I accompany you?’

‘I wanted to display a variety of differing racial characteristics so as to prove that peoples of divergent stock could work together in harmony.’ She caught his expression. ‘You disagree?’

‘I think you are trying to run before you’ve learned to walk,’ said Karsov deliberately. ‘Not your fault, perhaps, theoretical knowledge can never be as good as actual experience and it could be that your instructors have grown a little careless. But in my experience no primitive race welcomes strangers. Xenophobia is a real problem to overcome. Of all the landing party I came closest to the natives as regards facial distinction. Dye my skin, fit me with a long, black wig, rig me in a tunic and I might just be able to move among them without arousing suspicion.’

‘A spy?’ Rayment frowned then nodded. ‘It might work at that. Captain?’

‘He lacks the necessary knowledge to make sense of any data he might obtain. If this society is taboo-ridden he would be bound to make mistakes. One of them might kill him.’

‘A combined effort,’ rumbled Haljan. ‘Him to pry and you to teach. A miniaturised transceiver planted behind one ear and you to give instruction. The best of both worlds.’ He chuckled, the sound echoing from deep in his chest. ‘What is it they say? If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. My boy, you’re going to do just that.’

* * * *

A few hours later, trying to ignore the itching behind his left ear and the unaccustomed feel of air against his lower limbs, Zac Karsov left the ship and headed towards the forest. He did not head directly towards the town, unless the natives were totally lacking in curiosity there would be watchers, so he left the vessel on the far side intending to circle towards his destination.

As he reached the first of the trees a tiny voice carried by bone-conduction from the implanted mechanism said, ‘Testing. Can you hear me, Lieutenant?’

‘I can hear you.’ The words were formed in his throat, dying before they could leave his lips. Man-made telepathy undetectable to anyone lacking instruments.

‘Remember to report everything and anything you see. I shall not be able to advise you without full data to work on.’

‘I’ll remember. Captain,’ he promised. ‘And it’s nice to know that you care.’

‘For the mission, Lieutenant,’ the voice said coldly. ‘There is nothing personal about this.’

‘A pity. With you I’d like to get personal.’

‘Lieutenant!’

‘Sorry,’ he said, smiling. ‘A sub-vocal wish, Captain. You shouldn’t have heard it. Not that it wasn’t genuine. As I said you are a very attractive woman.’

His smile widened at the answering silence and he could imagine how she felt. For once he had the perfect excuse to make a personal approach to a female of superior rank and she could do nothing but listen. He wasn’t even contravening regulations because many men had consciously to avoid sub-vocalising their thoughts and she couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them.

He lost the smile as he slipped among the trees. Primitive or not these people had to make their way on this world and though the conditions seemed gentle yet there would be predators as the necklaces of teeth proved. At first they would have had their technology to fall back on, but then, as time passed, the lotus-syndrome would have caught hold and the downward slide commenced.

On Telchis that would have been easy. The trees provided easily-obtained food, the river would be full of fish and, winters were probably mild. A small group, inbreeding, returning to nature, taking life easy for a while. Tomorrow would be time enough to dig mines, build factories, get down to the sweat and effort of building themselves a replica of what they had left. Tomorrow.

And each year that passed meant just that much forgotten; decades and the task would be frightening, a century or so and it would be impossible.

He hit the town at sunset, coming from the west so that the light would tend to dazzle any onlooker. A child ran from his path into the shelter of a woman’s arms. Karsov smiled at her and lifted a hand in greeting.

‘Good evening, Mother,’ he called.

She frowned but responded, ‘May the peace of falling darkness be on you.’

‘Is your man at home?’

This time there was no response. With a glare she gathered up the child and vanished into her house. Dutifully Karsov reported the incident.

‘Precision,’ said Susan. ‘She didn’t trust you because you were imprecise. If you were asking for her husband you should have said “man of your bed”, if for her father, “man of your mother’s bed”, if for her brother, “man of your mother’s womb”, coupled with some distinguishing characteristic such as, “man of your mother’s womb who owns the heavy club”, if for her eldest son, “man of your womb first to arrive”, understand?’

‘It’s a hell of a language.’

‘Primitive ones always are. Complexity coupled to precision. One of the first things we’ll have to do once they accept us is to teach them Terran-English and before you ask me why it is because that tongue is one of the best developed for the expression of intangible ideas. It also has no rigid grammar and can be understood no matter how you twist the words and tenses. For example “I am the ship tomorrow catching” is as understandable as saying “I am catching a ship tomorrow.”’

‘Basic English,’ he said. ‘Eight hundred words and you can read, write and communicate.’

‘That’s right.’ She hesitated and then added, ‘It’s getting dark. You’ll be careful, won’t you?’

‘Risk not my neck I do intend,’ he said. And walked smiling into the thickening gloom.

* * * *

At dawn he attended the ceremony of the rising sun. It was a simple thing and impressive enough in its way, the assembled guards, the people, the priest with his rayed disc, the deep shout of welcome as the first rays of the sun gilded the top of the palace. There were no women in the plaza, the sun being male required the devotion and welcome of males only. If there had been a moon Karsov would have gambled that it would have been the prerogative of the females.

As the assembly broke up he lowered himself to his haunches and leaned his back against a carved wall. It had been quite a night. Without any means of exchange he had wandered the streets, once tempted to steal but warned off by Susan’s insistence.

‘Don’t do it!’ she’d said. ‘You may get away with it or you may wind up dead. The risk isn’t worth it.’

He had warmed to the anxiety in her voice.

Twice he’d dodged patrols and there had been a small beast like a dog he would have reason to remember. Uneasily he shifted on the hard ground, feeling the dirt through the tear in his tunic, the sting of the place where teeth had struck. About midnight his luck had changed, a house, blazing with light, had held what could only have been a wedding feast. Emboldened by hunger and needing to learn all he could he had crashed the party. The food, mostly vegetable, had been plentiful and there had been a limitless supply of a thick, noisome brew which held a surprising potency. Then he had staggered with others to the common lodging house of the single males.

Now he sat and nursed his head and wondered why men were such fools as to poison themselves.

‘Lieutenant!’ Susan’s voice was a clap of thunder in his throbbing skull. ‘Lieutenant, please report. Are you all right?’

‘I’m alive if that’s what you mean.’

‘Trouble?’

‘Only self-induced. You can make a note that, in one respect at least, these people are just like us. They tell dirty jokes at parties.’ He paused then added, ‘They drink, too.’

‘Naturally. The art of brewing fermented liquids is as old as time. Please bring me up to date.’

Sighing he obeyed. The guards were more than just a ceremonial guard of honour. They were the elite and the aim of every young man was to join them. At night they patrolled the streets, acting as police and breaking up disturbances. There was a rigid caste system of at least five levels and no inferior could talk to a superior unless first addressed. The lowest level was that of the guide. His hair and eyebrows had been shaved, his eyelashes clipped and he had to wear the robe of ignominy until they had regrown. Armed men took precedence over the unarmed. Women did not mix with men but children could go anywhere. Both sexes had communal quarters which they used between puberty and marriage and, as far as he recalled, there had been quite a bit of nocturnal coming and going.

‘It fits,’ said Susan when he had paused to ease his aching head. ‘Most primitives have such a system—especially in warm climates. Did you discover any fresh taboos ?’

The place was rotten with them. Those coming from light into darkness had precedence over anyone coming the other way unless they were of a lower caste in which case it was taboo to use the same entrance. It was taboo to watch a mother feed her child unless the man was a close relative. It was taboo to spit towards the east in the morning and the west after noon. It was taboo to conduct business during the hours of darkness.

‘All right,’ said Susan. ‘Now comes the hard part. I want you to wander all over the city and try and discover how they feel about us. Also attempt to determine what other peoples are near, do they engage in warfare, what gifts would impress them and, most important, have they been contacted by the Outworld Federation as yet.’

‘We know they haven’t,’ he protested. ‘If they’d found this world they would never have left.’

‘All information is of value,’ she said coldly. ‘Even that of a negative quality. Good luck, Lieutenant.’

Tiredly he rose, saw a guard moving towards him, his obsidian tipped spear at the level, and moved quickly away. Loungers were obviously not permitted to sleep facing the palace. Or perhaps loungers were simply not permitted. More damn taboos. For all he knew he had broken one just by leaning his back against that particular wall.

Ignoring the guard’s call he dived between two houses and made his way towards the river. Stripping he plunged into the water, remembering his wig as he dived under and hoping the glue would hold. Both wig and dye remained and he soaked for a while in the limpid water, watching the boats and the men along the wharves. More boats arrived as he watched, coming from up-river, paddled by stocky men with cropped hair but with the same mongoloid features. Traders, he guessed, and took advantage of the confusion to leave the river, dress and mingle with the crowd.

At dusk he returned to the ship.

* * * *

‘It is obvious,’ said Susan, ‘that we are faced with a rigid, static culture which is self-perpetuating and will do its utmost to resist change. The language itself is a barrier against the assimilation of new ideas and the complex taboos actively disencourage all innovations. That, of course, is the real purpose of such taboos.’

Fed, washed, chemically rested, Karsov leaned back in his chair and looked at the rounded figure of the ethnologist. Beneath her make up her face showed signs of strain and he remembered that she had been on constant monitoring duty all during his absence.

Haljan said, ‘Aren’t taboos basically for the protection of the individual and society?’

‘Initially, yes, but once established they work to protect the status quo. Our job is to break it.’

‘And soon,’ reminded Captain Rayment. He looked at Karsov. ‘How about giving me a run down on what you discovered?’

‘The culture is pretty wide-spread,’ said the lieutenant. ‘I can’t guess how long they’ve been here but it’s long enough for the language to have formalised and reading to be a lost art. Maybe the priests still have the ability to mull over any books they might have but the general population couldn’t care less. As the population grows so new towns are established, groups of young men and women strike out and make new settlements, usually along the rivers. The metal ornaments we saw must be remnants of the original vessel but there is some gold probably found in the hills, loose nuggets washed from exposed lodes. They have a medium of exchange based on shells, and strong family groups which are more or less self-providing. The palace has the right to demand service and supplies based on a calculation of a family group’s possessions. Building is done on a mutual aid system. Art is confined to woodworking and weaving with a little sculpture and pottery. Dyes are obtained by treating seeds and shellfish—the usual primitive pattern. They are fond of combat-sports and there is quite a bit of gambling. Entertainment is by singers, story-tellers, dancing and drinking.’

Haljan said, ‘Do they possess slaves?’

‘No.’

‘Menial work is done by the lower caste then?’

‘Mostly, yes, but they don’t regard menial work as we do. There are simply things which need to be done. The women take care of the domestic arrangements and younger sons and old men gather fruits and such. Hunting is confined to elder sons and the elite.’ He paused then added, ‘They have a lot of spare time.’

Time in which to spend half a lifetime carving a panel, scraping at the hard wood with razor-edged shells, fabricating a thing of beauty created by love. Time to assemble and sort a multitude of seeds so as to match size and colour, shape and texture, piercing them, threading them to form curtains and hangings of intricate loveliness. It had been a shock to realise that the things he had seen could not be duplicated on the civilised worlds, that sheer economics dictated that only things which would be stamped or poured or mass-produced could hope to lie within the purchasing power of the majority. On such worlds craftsmanship had priced itself out of existence.

But at least, he thought, when their system had been smashed beyond hope of recovery, the natives would not be without resources. Their art work would command high prices on the ancient planets. He hoped it would be recompense enough.

‘Primitives,’ said Rayment. ‘In a way I envy them. A simple life in a world without mystery, where everything has its place and a man knows exactly where he stands. But they’re living in a fool’s paradise. Unless we win them over the Federation will move in and we know what will happen then. Alienation, extermination, exploitation. They’ll be slaughtered like animals and those that are left will be worked to death in the mines. With us, at least, they stand a chance. Not this generation, perhaps, but those that are to come. It’s up to us to make sure they retain their world.’

Mother Earth gathering up her children, thought Karsov, but the captain was right, the League was the less hurtful of the available alternatives. And yet he wondered, if he were a native, whether he would thank the League for its interference. A closed society had its peculiar charm. It was something like the ship, a snug, warm, comfortable little universe where everything was ordered and a man knew where he stood. And men needed to belong, to be a part of something greater than themselves, to give their loyalty to a cause.

‘You’re dreaming,’ said Susan. Karsov looked up and met her eyes. ‘You’re thinking of the “noble savage” concept and wondering if we are doing the right thing. Let me assure you that we are. Not because of what the Federation might do if we fail but because of the inevitable results of such a society and culture which exists on this world. You think that everyone is happy and content but you are wrong. You forget the frustrated innovator who is put to death or banished for breaking a taboo. The inventor who eats his heart out for lack of sympathy or support. The lower castes who must live in a kind of continual hell. We are going to save them from that.’

‘Agreed,’ said Haljan. ‘But how?’

The usual method. We will give them things which they cannot make themselves. Needles, awls, metal artifacts to which they will soon grow accustomed and on which they will rely. Then, when they need more, we will supply them at a price.’

‘The worm in the woodwork technique?’ Rayment frowned. ‘Sure but slow. Too slow.’

‘And it wouldn’t work,’ said Karsov. ‘The big wheel has only got to set up another taboo—that of not taking gifts from strangers.’

Susan was defiant. ‘They will break it.’

‘No. The head man is regarded as the living personification of the sun and so is backed by the authority of a god. And if that wasn’t enough his guards are. You haven’t seen them as close as I have. I can assure you that those spears they carry make a telling argument—and they won’t hesitate to use them.’

‘On us?’

‘On anyone who gets in their way. You’re up against ingrained pride and stubborn conviction, two things you can’t handle with kid gloves.’ Karsov caught her expression of disbelief. ‘Now listen to me! I can guess what you were taught at college, the liberal approach, the gentle way of going about things. You want to beg, to plead, to bribe with gifts and hope that they’ll be so grateful they’ll roll over and paw the air. It’s not going to happen like that. You’re trying to teach people a discipline they have no intention of accepting. They don’t like discipline, not the harsh, real, universal cause and effect type of teaching. That’s why they regressed. It isn’t easy to learn to read, to build a civilisation, to have to think. It’s easier and much less sweat just to ride from day to day and take what is going. And they have pride, remember. Act like a doormat and you’ll be treated like one. No one with pride respects a beggar.’

‘Are you trying to teach me my job, Lieutenant?’

‘Did I say that?’ He met her furious eyes. ‘I spent a day among them. I listened to what they had to say about us. They think we’re stupid, weak, commanded by a woman. Beggars pleading to be friends. You made an initial mistake and now they hold us in contempt. We’ve got to correct that impression before we can even hope to get anywhere.’

‘And you know how to do that?’

‘Well,’ he said. ‘At least I can try.’

* * * *

The next time he headed for town Karsov was not alone. With him went a score of yeomen together with Haljan, all armed and dressed for battle. They reached the main plaza just as the welcoming shout of the dawn ceremony echoed from the surrounding houses and, before the assembly could realise what was happening, had forced their way to within twenty yards of the ranked guards.

‘Lieutenant?’ Susan’s voice held a note of worry. ‘Are you all right ?’

‘Everything is fine,’ he said.

‘If you make a mess of things we’ll never get another chance,’ she said. ‘You realise that?’

‘You worry too much,’ he said, hoping her concern was for him and not for her record. ‘If this is a bust we’ll try somewhere else. Knock over one of these towns and the rest fall like dominoes. But we won’t fail.’

‘I wish I could be as sure of that as you are.’

‘You can be. Sign off now, the welcoming committee is on its way.’

It was the same as before, a file of men coming from the darkness of the palace into the early light of dawn, the guards parting to let them through.

To Haljan Karsov said, ‘No slips now. Arrogance all the way.’

Haljan nodded. As the robed figure of the lowest caste man approached he knocked him aside with a back-handed slap. The staff he ignored. To the spear he said, ‘You offend the All High. It is taboo for him to be approached by such things of low caste.’

‘And I?’

‘You are a warrior and worthy of respect.’

‘Are you also a warrior?’

‘I serve the All High. He is the greatest warrior this world has ever seen. His power is such that he has subjugated the races of the men you see in attendance and yet each of them has more than all the people in this village combined. You are honoured that he condescends to permit you to stand in his presence.’

The man with the spear frowned, fingering the shaft of his weapon, ingrained pride struggling with the novel concept that he could be so lightly regarded. Before he could decide on a course of action Karsov stepped forward, contemptuously brushed him aside and stepped towards the king.

He heard the sharp catch of indrawn breath from the watching guards, Haljan’s instinctive gasp of warning, and turned to catch the glint of sunlight on polished stone. He had expected the attack and was prepared for it. His left hand swung up and to one side deflecting the point stabbing towards his face and, stepping forward, he swung his bunched right fist in a hard cross to the exposed jaw.

Snatching up the fallen spear he held the point against the wizened throat of the king.

‘Hail, brother,’ he said. ‘Call off your guards or our father the sun shall watch the spilling of your blood.’

‘You would kill me?’

‘What is the penalty paid by those who break the taboo of violence to the All High? Your man attacked me. The penalty of death is yours. Unless your guards drop their spears they and you will die together.’

Behind him Karsov heard the sharp bark of Haljan’s command and could guess at the reaction of his men, the lifting and aiming of weapons which held power enough to destroy the town. But the guards didn’t know that and even if they had it wouldn’t have stopped them. Only their supreme chief could do that and, watching him, Karsov knew that he wouldn’t. Inbred pride made it impossible for him to beg for his life. He would die as he had lived, supreme in the eyes of his people.

And killing him was the last thing Karsov wanted to do.

For a moment he felt that he held a tiger by the tail, a product of civilisation faced with the bafflingly different mores of a primitive, and then did the only thing left for him to do. Throwing aside the spear he opened his arms.

‘Brother! You are indeed a man! I, the eldest of our mother’s womb, salute you!’

He smelt the reek of oil as he embraced the withered figure, the sudden easing of tension within the aged frame. To one side the priest lifted his rayed disc, his voice sharp with suspicion.

‘You, man of a place far away? You claim to be a child of the sun?’

‘What else?’ Karsov released the king and whipped off his uniform cap, the sun shining on the red hair beneath. ‘How can you doubt? Can you not see this sign?’

* * * *

‘You were lucky,’ said Susan. ‘Damned, lucky. What if that spear had taken your life ?’

‘It didn’t.’

‘But it could have done. Lieutenant, you are a fool!’

But a lucky one, he thought, relaxing on the soft grass. Very lucky indeed. The more so because he and the ethnologist had taken a walk together to discuss what had happened and, somehow, had wound up among the trees in a tiny glade well out of sight of both natives and ship. He didn’t think it was wholly an accident.

‘You broke every taboo they had,’ she mused. ‘All except spitting at the sun. How come you didn’t do that as well?’

‘It wouldn’t have paid to alienate their religion. I went as far as I dared when I grabbed the king. Don’t forget he is their living personification of their god. Not that it matters now that we are friends. Equals, rather,’ he corrected. ‘Coworkers in the common cause.’

‘To lift his people into the sun and share unimaginable loot.’ Susan shook her head with mock despair. ‘How could you lie to them like that? Don’t you realise that they’ll learn the truth eventually?’

‘Truth is relative,’ he said. His throat felt dry from hours of talking, explaining, lying, but he was satisfied. The breach had been made and the rigid structure of the local culture would soon fall apart. The Terran League had been accepted as guides, mentors and friends. Susan could chalk up her first real success.

“Thanks to you,’ she said when he pointed it out. ‘But how did you know what to do ? At college they-‘

‘Talk a load of guff,’ he interrupted. ‘Textbook theorising unbacked by actual experience. The biggest mistake they made was in teaching you to treat primitives as if they are equals. They aren’t. As far as they are concerned they are immeasurably superior. To gain their respect you have to prove that you are as good if not better than they are. And that includes lying, stealing, fighting and anything else they set high value on. In this case it was fighting, arrogance and divine descent via the sun.’

‘Red hair,’ she smiled, and ruffled it. ‘I should keep you around to advise me. Did you know that I was staying here until things are under control ?’

‘I’d heard about it.’ He turned to look up into her face. ‘I could get a transfer to the planetary service if you think it’s a good idea. Do you ?’

She coloured a little. ‘You’re forgetting something. Lieutenant. I’m of superior rank and it’s against the rules of the service for a man of lesser rank to make a proposal to a female of a higher.’

‘I’m due for promotion.’

‘Even so-‘

‘Regulations,’ he said. ‘Taboos. To hell with them.’ Reaching for her he held her close. ‘They’re only made to be broken.’