Bayley, Barrington J - Novel 10 (24 page)

 
          
Imperial
Council Member Hiroshamak, also, was a pig.

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

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

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

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

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

 
          
"Second
class," Archier muttered in bewilderment.
"You are
second-class citizens. It isn't possible ..."

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

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

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

 
          
"But
that would make them slaves!" Archier protested.

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

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

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

 
          
"Society
needs
creativity," Archier
insisted. "It's
what
keeps it
evolving."

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

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

 
          
'' Weasels?''
Archier enquired.

           
"Guard!"
Hiroshamak snapped in "answer
. "
Get in here
sharpish!"

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

 
          
"He's
had his inhibitor removed," Hiroshamak said.

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

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

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

 
          
"All
right, guard.
That
will do. Wait
outside."

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

 
          
"Oh,
I don't suppose we will when things have settled down."

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

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

 
          
"What
happened to Admiral Tirexier?" Archier asked suddenly, with a bite in Kis
voice."

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

 
          
A
squeal of delight sounded behind Archier. It came from Gruwert, who together
with others of the Command Staff had been standing silently listening to the
exchange.

 
          
"Yes,
I have," whispered Archier. "Indeed I have."

 
          
Carefully
he removed his admiral's ceremonial hat, with its bell-shaped crown, its
glittering feathers, and placed it on his desk.

 
          
My fleet,
he thought agonisedly.
My beautiful Ten-Fleet.

 
          
But
of course it was not his fleet, and never had been. It was the Empire's, and
now the Empire belonged to the pigs.

 
          
Gruwert
came trotting forward, snuffing the air. "No hard feelings, Archier old
chap? It's all for -the best, you know. Now if you don't mind, I'd like you to
get out of my office. It's time to start doing things properly!"

 
          
At
last Admiral Gruwert felt he had a proper outlet for his energies. He was
enjoying his new role immensely.

 
          
Lifting
his snout from the trough of choice delicacies he had installed in his office,
he returned his attention to his duties.

 
          
The
fleet was very nearly restored to operational status and' was heading at top
speed for Axaline Sector, the region it had been forced to quit when summoned
to Escoria. Imperial Council Member Hiroshamak had given Gruwert explicit
orders: there were signs that Axaline felt encouraged by recent events, not to
revolt exactly, but to mount a campaign of stubborn civil disobedience, and the
sector was to be discouraged by peremptory means.

 
          
The
Axalines would find their error of judgment a most costly one. Gruwert recalled
the planet Rostia. They would get no reprieve this time, he promised himself
with satisfaction. It would be knuckle under
at once
or—

 
          
A
voice interrupted his scanning of the weapons readiness reports. It was the new
pig brigadier he had put in charge of the Drop Commando.

 
          
"Admiral,
something odd is happening. One or two rebel pirates have been turning up. I
thought they had all been dealt with."

 
          
"Eh?"
Gruwert thought quickly. "What have you done with them?"

 
          
"Scanned them away, naturally."

 
          
Gruwert
muttered under his breath. He was annoyed, while at the same time pleased that
the Commandos were as keen as ever. They were armestationed as a guard force throughout every ship of the fleet. It had not been
lost on Gruwert that there might be internal dissension to deal with—indeed, he
would not feel entirely safe until he received postings of some of the newly
trained weasels whose loyalty was guaranteed.

 
          
"Don't
scan them," he ordered. "If you find any more, take them alive.
They're probably the ones who started disappearing shortly after we were
boarded. Remember?
Those funny lines in the air?
It
was the space rent doing it." He reflected again. "Some of our own
people vanished too . . . leave that in my hands."

 
          
"Yes
sir."

 
          
Gruwert
cursed briefly as the Brigadier broke contact. Why did the Drop Commando have
to bring him this news? It should have been picked up by Archier, the new Ship
Management Officer! At any rate, he would need Archier to survey the ship's
population and see if any vanished personnel had reappeared.

 
          
He
put out a call to Archier. To his fury, there was no answer. The man wasn't
contactable!

 
          
Such
incompetence was all too believable! He would have him demoted yet again! He
would have him cleaning the decks with the robots! The pesky human!

 
          
Gruwert
suppressed his anger for long enough to think. The threat from the rent in
space still remained. The Imperial Council was supposed to be organising a
special scientific organisation to deal with it, but Star Force wasn't
involved. Gruwert got the impression the Council was hoping the rent would go
away on its own, which he didn't really think was the right attitude.

 
          
If
people really were reappearing from wherever it was they had vanished to, they
probably had some valuable information.

 
          
He
heaved himself to his trotters, telling his adjutant to stay where he was.
Nothing like a personal appearance to an awkward moment for keeping the staff
on their toes . . .

 
          
Fleet
Admiral (Retired) Archier, now Acting Ship Management Officer, sat
disconsolately holding hands with Hesper Positana. She had discarded her
rebel's uniform, after he had persuaded her that transportation to Diadem would
not, any longer, mean a life of luxury and leisure. Instead, he had contrived
to place her on the ship's register.

 
          
"How
could the humans among you let it
happen?"
she protested.

           
She still did not understand about
Diadem. "It just happened," he said simply.

 
          
"But
they're not
people.
They're pigs.
Pigs!"

 
          
"They
are
people, Hesper. To us, animals
are people as well as human beings."

 
          
"Well
they're not very
nice
people, are
they?"

 
          
He
was silent. He hardly dared mention what the future almost certainly held.
A pig-ruled galaxy.
A tyranny, probably, in which humans
might even be relegated to second-class citizenship eventually. He was sure the
pigs would never agree to share power with humans again, no matter what they
said at present. The future belonged to them. They alone had the crude
self-confidence that was needed, the ruthlessness,
the
love of power.

 
          
Neither
did he believe the coup had been as bloodless as Hiroshamak claimed. There must
have been opposition. It looked, now, as if they had actually used the fleets.
All except Ten-Fleet had been taken over simultaneously by senior pig
officers. Obviously, then, there had been a deal of forward planning. Probably
Gruwert and his pig pals had been waiting for a signal too . . .

 
          
"There's
talk of other species getting first-class citizenship too, if they prove
themselves," he remarked emptily.

 
          
"The weasels, most probably!
They'll grant them
privileges, to make them even more enthusiastic." Hesper squeezed his hand
and leaned closer. "Just what
is
your
loyalty to?" she asked anxiously. "Is it to the Empire, no matter
who
owns it?
Or to
mankind, and civilisation?"

 
          
"Need
civilisation be man's alone?"

 
          
"Yes!"
she said emphatically.
"Because only man is truly
intelligent.
These animals of yours—the only intelligence they have is
what
you
gave them. It's borrowed.
Apart from that, they're still undeveloped—not really sentient."

 
          
Archier
listened carefully to her words. They sounded novel and strange. Was this how
people in the provinces thought?

 
          
He
sighed. "I don't know what you would have me do, Hesper. The pigs are in
an invulnerable position. There's scarcely any opposition that I've noticed
among the flagship staff, and they are the most dedicated citizens in the
Empire. In fact, I believe they welcome the pigs' coup. The pigs will make the
Empire strong again.
Strong enough to claim the undisputed
allegiance of every inhabited world.
Strong enough
eventually to embrace the whole galaxy—every biota-compatible planet.
That's what the people who run Star Force want, both men and animals."

 
          
"That's
right, SMO," said a lusty voice.

 
          
It
was Gruwert. He came waddling forward, having apparently caught Archier's last
words. "It's good you agree things have taken a turn for the better. But
keep your communicator active in future, SMO. I've been looking for you."

 
          
He
swung on Hesper, peering at her. "I don't believe I recognise you, my
dear. What's your section?"

 
          
"She's
in my department, Admiral," Archier said quickly, noting with alarm the
loathing with which Hesper stared back at his superior officer.

 
          
"And a most touching scene the two of you were putting on, if
I may say so.
Not showing a lack of, shall we say,
enthusiasm
for the new order, is she? If so you'd better talk some
sense into her. Disloyalty won't be tolerated!" His voice rose as he said
this and he glared hard at Hesper. "What's the matter with you? Don't you
want the Empire to be mighty, triumphant? The whole galaxy belongs to us of
right, and it will all have to be held together. So make up your mind to it,
because nothing can stop us now."

 
          
"Something
can
stop you, animal."

 
          
They
turned on hearing the softly spoken words. A figure in a loose white garment
was framed in the entrance to the chamber. The newcomer gazed on the scene as
though not really seeing it, as though staring over their heads at something
in the distance. Hesper recognised that look from her previous acquaintance
with him. She knew he was observing them all keenly.

 
          
"Why,
it's the
kosho,"
Gruwert
squealed in surprise. "I thought the pirates had killed you,
kosho,
or else the rent had taken you.
Together with your master, the excellent Pout. What
did
happen to him?"

 
          
"He
is safe," Ikematsu said blandly. "He is on this ship somewhere. I saw
him briefly, but he ran away from me. Yes, the rent took us. But we have
returned. Everyone has returned."

 
          
Gruwert's
eyes narrowed. He had been looking for Pout ever since taking command.

 
          
He
switched his communicator to subvocal mode and spoke to his adjutant.
"That man-ape, Pout.
He's on the ship, probably near
where I am—I'm in the Ship Management Office. Have him found and brought to
me."

           
"You speak to someone,"
Ikematsu said knowingly. He stepped into the room and beckoned behind him.
Through the door came Sinbiane, leading Trixa by the hand and murmuring
encouragement to him. The Diademian boy did not seem to know where he was. His
eyes were glazed. His shoulders slumped.

 
          
Placing
his hand on Sinbiane's shoulder, Ikematsu addressed the pig. "I hear I
should congratulate you on a new appointment. No doubt you are now even more anxious
to have the chimera under your control. You suspected him of being the weapon
that could destroy the Empire. How nearly right you were, pig. But the weapon
is
neither a new leader or
a social idea, as you
thought. That was a clever deduction, but the truth is simpler. Remember what
the oracle said:
'It has been disregarded
because it is small.
' The ultimate weapon is in fact that little gun that
Pout carries."

 
          
"That
toy?"
Gruwert exploded.
"What nonsense is this?"

 
          
The
kosho,
his bearing erect and with the
odd stylised quality Hesper had often noticed, stepped away from the boys and
swivelled to speak to all the three others present. The pig stiffened, his
snout following him suspiciously.

 
          
"That
electric pistol incorporates the most complete understanding of the laws of
nature ever attained," Ikematsu said. "It was made by a master of my
order centuries ago, for a single reason: to render centrally governed empires
impossible.

 
          
"The
weapon was to accomplish this in a manner quite easy to understand. The
zen
gun, as it is called, is a sun-destroying handgun.
To one qualified in its use
the
procedure is as follows. First, the gunman must get within three light years of
the sun to be attacked. He then lines up the barrel with the target, and
adjusts the beam so that it will spread to encompass the whole star. He then
squeezes the trigger stud.

 
          
"The
target star is disrupted by electrical means. As you know, positive and
negative electricity differs only in the direction of the pseudo-spin of which
electric force is composed. The
zen
gun, delving into
the Simplex, inverts the pseudo-spin of all positive charges within the star,
switching them to negative. A negligible amount of energy is involved in this
simple but remarkable process. You may easily reason out the results. Since
both electrons and protons now possess negative charge, there is repulsion
both between the nuclei and electron shells of atoms, and between the nuclei of
atoms. The star explodes. The electrons, with smaller mass, acquire the higher
velocity.
An expanding electron cloud totalling one
four-thousandth of the mass of the whole star sweeps through the planetary
system, ripping off atmospheres and destroying all life.