Pak-7 gave an amused snort. "Oh, really? I thought you just did."
Dru-21 held up a hand. "Please remember that Pik Lando is an honored guest. It has been my observation that what we sometimes interpret as evasiveness humans view as tact."
Lando bowed in Dru-21's direction. "There is truth to what Dru-21 says⦠but we can be evasive as well. Maybe that's why we came up with the saying 'An honest question deserves an honest answer.'
"While we understand the historical and even genetic reasons for the way that your society is structured, we are concerned about the future. If the Il Ronnians lose, a mighty big 'if' by the way, then how will the heavies fare?"
Zera-12 squirmed in her chair. "No differently than they do now."
"Really?" Lando asked, looking around the room. Gradually, and without meaning to do so, he had grown more and more militant. And now that he was into it found that he had no desire to turn back.
"Let's face it. You're smarter than they are. That's why you invited me here. The creation of a secret alliance would never even occur to them. What's to keep you from replacing the Lords? From enslaving them as you were enslaved?"
"God would not allow it," Pak-7 said uncertainly, his eyes on the tabletop.
"An interesting point," Lando said, leaning forward in his chair. "Let's talk about God. Can he hear us right now?"
Dru-21 felt very uncomfortable. God could
not
hear them. He and his fellow constructs had made certain of that. The meeting was a mistake. The human had taken control. He realized that now but it was too late.
Lando nodded knowingly. "He can't, can he? And you arranged that. So save the 'God would not allow it' stuff for someone else. If you can block God out of this room, then you have the ability to enslave the heavies."
The smuggler got to his feet. He was angry and decided to let it show. "You don't get it, do you? The Lords enslaved your genes, your memories, and your minds. Then, when they didn't need you anymore, they sent other slaves to kill you. Each and every one of you was born remembering that night.
"Then the machine that you call 'God' took over. For thousands of years he told you what to do and when to do it. And for what? For you? Or for those who created you, and programmed him? In case
they
come back and decide to move in.
"Then the Il Ronnians arrive. They enslave everyone. You try to get along with them, find it doesn't work, and decide to fight back. Or, to be more accurate, the
heavies
fight back, and you're stuck with the results.
"And now, before the present war has even been fought much less won, you're conspiring to enslave the heavies."
Pak-7 rose to his feet as well. He was angry and it showed. "What is this talk of enslavement? The heavies are less intelligent than we are. You said so yourself! They are like children who look to us for guidance and leadership.
We
plan the harvests so they never go hungry,
we
make sure that they have clothes, and
we
take care of them when they are sick. Is that the way that a master treats a slave?"
Lando put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Yes, it is! The prudent farmer takes good care of his livestock!"
Dos-4 spread her hands in front of her. "So what would you have us do?"
Lando straightened up. What the hell was he doing anyway? One of his father's many sayings came to mind.
"Smuggling is dangerous enough, son, so stay away from the really suicidal stuff like politics."
It was good advice. Lando mustered a smile and looked Dos-4 directly in the eye.
"I honestly don't know. This is a difficult situation. But one thing is for sure. The entire situation is bound to change. You, the heavies, and God have lived in harmony for thousands of years now. The Il Ronnians are looking for God. What if they find him? Tear him apart? Take him away? Or what if they don't? What if they leave? Will you go back to life as it was? Can you? I think not."
There was a long silence. The constructs looked at one another. Dru-21 was the first to speak. His voice was solemn. "This meeting did not go as expected. You have given us much to think about, Pik-Lando. We will do so."
The anger was gone and Lando felt silly standing up. He took his seat and saw Pak-7 do likewise. Dos-4 broke the momentary silence.
"Pik-Lando raises an important issue. The Il Ronnians have intensified their efforts to find God."
"Yes," Zera-12 agreed. "They are systematically destroying entire villages in an effort to find him."
"And herding our people out into the countryside," Pak-7 added sourly. "Many have been killed."
Lando looked around the table. He had wanted to ask the question for some time now and this seemed as good an opportunity as any.
"Where
is
God anyway? Can we move him? Or defend him?"
The constructs looked at each other, then back to Lando. Dru-21 was the first to speak. "It is as the villagers say: 'God is everywhere and nowhere at all.' "
Lando looked at each construct in turn to see if they were serious. They were. "You really don't know, do you?"
Dos-4 made a gesture with her hands. "No, we don't. Many have asked over the years and always receive the same reply."
"God is everywhere and nowhere at all."
"That is correct."
Lando frowned. "Well, it doesn't make sense. God is a machine. A complicated machine, a powerful machine, but a machine nonetheless. That means that he has circuitry, capacitors, resistors, amplifiers, and who knows what all. So, even allowing for the possibility of tremendous miniaturization, he still takes up some space. And that implies a location of some sort."
Pak-7 leaned back in his chair. "It is clear that the Il Ronnians agree with you. They are tearing the planet apart in an effort to find him."
"Yeah," Lando said thoughtfully, "they sure are. Think back. Are there any places that God forbids you to go?"
Pak-7 looked thoughtful. "No, not that I can think of."
"Are there places that you don't go because they are scary, bring bad luck, or are simply impossible to access?"
It was obvious that Pak-7 had drawn a blank. "No, nothing comes to mind."
Lando nodded. Well, so much for some of the more obvious possibilities. There was only one thing to do. The smuggler looked at Dru-21.
"I need a favor."
Dru-21 bowed slightly. "Anything within our power."
Lando looked around the room. The constructs looked back. They were curious and made no effort to hide it.
"I want to speak with God."
There was a hiss of indrawn breath as the constructs took it in. To their knowledge no one had ever initiated a conversation with God. Communication was strictly one-way. God spoke and you listened. Still, these were troubled times, and there was no specific prohibition against it either.
Dru-21 looked around the table and received a nod from each construct in turn. He looked at Lando. "God may or may not decide to speak with you, but we will clear the way."
15
The sun had been up for less than an hour and it was damned cold by Il Ronnian standards. A stiff breeze blew across the top of the hill causing a tarp to flap and pop. The air smelled of fertilizer.
Quarter Sand Sept Commander Teex shivered and pulled his battle cloak around his shoulders. There was no doubt about it. He was getting too old for this kind of crap.
Half Sand Sept Commander Heek's lander dropped toward the pad, flared, and sprayed Teex with tiny particles of dirt. They peppered his face and uniform like shells from a microscopic artillery barrage.
The Sand Sept officer did his best to ignore them. He had more important problems to contend with, like his failure to find the computer, and the sniper who had killed three of his officers in five days. Two of the officers had been somewhat promising. Yes, if Heek wanted to kick his butt, there was no shortage of reasons to do so.
But maybe, just maybe, he could keep Heek so busy touring headquarters, dropping in on supposedly unsuspecting fire bases, and gabbing with the troops that he'd get bored and return to orbit. He could hope anyway.
There was a loud pop as Heek's pilot cut the flow of fuel to the shuttle's repellors and allowed his craft to settle on its skids. A hatch whirred open. Teex moved his tail into the attentive-subordinate position and headed toward the ship. Gravel crunched under his hooves.
Heex ignored the metal step that a trooper hurried to put in place and jumped to the ground. He looked comfortable in his battle dress. His tail signaled a cheery "hello."
"Nice to see you, Teex. It feels good to be dirtside again. That ship is like a coffin, a big coffin, but a coffin nevertheless."
Heek sniffed the air and made a face. "What the hell is that anyway? It smells like shit."
"It
is
shit," Teex answered grimly. "Or something similar. They spread it on the fields."
Heek looked around. His eyes took in the weapons positions, the way rubble had been used to reinforce the perimeter, the readiness of the troops, everything. Fire Base One looked good but Heek would be damned if he'd tell Teex that. The praise might go to his head.
"You let them farm? After raising six kinds of hell?"
"I let them farm under guard," Teex replied. "It's either that, or start hauling food in by this time next year."
The older officer signaled understanding with his tail. "Well, let's get on with it. I know the drill. You drag me around, the troops act surprised, and I lift."
Teex held a hand up in protest. "Sirâ¦"
"Save it for someone younger and more gullible," Heek interrupted, "just promise me one thing."
Was that a smile? Or just another version of Heek's perpetual scowl? Teex did his best to look innocent. "Sir?"
"Promise me that you took steps to keep our itinerary secret."
"Yes, sir. Iâ¦"
"That includes the geek computer."
"Of course, sir. Weâ¦"
"Because Ceeq will take over if I get killed."
Teex felt a tightness in chest. "Excuse me, sir?"
"You heard me," Heek answered gruffly. "Ceeq received his commission a full seven months before you received yours. So, unless you would like Ceeq to write your next fitness report, it would be a good idea to keep me alive."
Heek was joking, Teex realized that now, but it was too late to laugh. He signaled appreciation with his tail instead. "Thank you for sharing that, sir. May you live to be at least five hundred years old."
Heek made a coughing sound that might have been laughter.
The first part of the tour went well. It started with an inspection of Fire Base One. Heek saw the comm center, the personnel bunkers, the ammo dumps, the missile launchers, the perimeter defenses, and more.
He also saw the solar-powered placards that Teex had mounted all around the fire base. Each one bore the holographic likeness of a black disk sitting alongside a pocket stylus to provide scale.
The text said, "If you find a small black disk, turn it in. Do not say or do anything around these devices that would be of value to the enemy. Each disk is worth fifty rang."
Heek nodded to himself. Most of the troopers would murder their own egg mothers for fifty rang.
Then came lunch with the troops, a nervous affair, with everyone on their best behavior, and Heek playing his role to the hilt. Teex watched in amusement as the senior officer made his way through the mess tent, tail locked in the "it is good to see you, faithful subordinate" position, stopping at each table to speak with the troops.
It was simple "How is the food?" "Is your equipment okay?" "Are you ready to kill some geeks?" kind of stuff, but the troopers loved it. For reasons that Teex couldn't quite fathom they actually
liked
Heek. The universe, he decided, was a mysterious place.
Shortly after lunch they climbed aboard a helicopter, and with an escort of four heavily armed air cars swept out across the valley for a lightning-fast tour of the outlying fire bases.
The pilots flew fast and low making it difficult for nonexistent enemy radars to pick them up.
Both side hatches were open. That provided the door gunners with a good field of fire and scooped great draughts of air into the passenger compartment. Teex felt it press against his face and blinked his eyes in order to keep them moist.
The aircraft swerved slightly to avoid a hill and the devastated village that sat on top of it. Heek leaned forward until the safety harness stopped him. He had to yell over the engine noise. "Is that typical?"
Teex signaled "yes" with his tail. "Yes, Sir. We are more than a little shorthanded as you know. We have an entire planet to occupy and about a quarter of the troops required to do it. If the geeks were armed, and a bit more aggressive, they would push us off-world in no time at all. It is clear that they have the necessary technology to manufacture weapons equivalent to ours. So, in order to prevent them from doing so, we have cleared the villages and destroyed them. Manufacturing plants too. Those we can find anyway."
"What about the humans?"
"They are a problem, sir. They have captured weapons and seem intent on leading some sort of resistance movement. One of them is operating as a sniper. He has killed three officers in five days. We are searching for him but there are thousands of places to hide."
Heek signaled his understanding. "Yes, the Council demands a miracle each and every day. What about the rest of the planet? Are there signs of resistance?"
Teex glanced toward the starboard hatch. Fields flashed by below. It was a difficult question. How to answer? Should he tell the truth? That he really didn't know? That he suspected the worst? Or what the older officer wanted to hear? That everything was fine. He chose a middle course.
"Yes, sir⦠there are some signs of resistance. Or 'avoidance' might be a better word. Our spy sats and recon patrols report the same thing. It seems word has spread and the geeks are disappearing into the countryside. Usually at night. We can follow a lot of their activities from orbit but don't have the troops to track them down."