Inferno: A Chronicle of a Distant World (The Galactic Comedy) (7 page)

"I think you are making a serious mistake, your majesty."

Bobby chuckled. "The day I can't control William Barioke is the day I'll retire from office and devote myself to a life of parties and sports."

I hope you'll tell us when it happens, so we'll know the difference,
thought Beddoes caustically. Aloud, she said, "I cannot overstress the seriousness of the situation, your majesty."

"Certainly you can," said Bobby. "In fact, you already have."

"Arthur Cartright has empowered me to say that we will not support your alliance with Barioke, or your attempt to speed up the carefully-planned schedule for self-rule."

"Of course he'll support us," said Bobby. "Faligor is his noble experiment, the shining example upon which he has staked his reputation. How would it look if I toured the Republic complaining about the Department of Cartography's repression, or turned Gama Labu loose on your handful of military advisors, always assuming that he could find them?" Bobby grinned. "What would he do then, Susan? Call for the Navy he so despises to pacify us, as they have pacified so many other worlds?" He paused. "Arthur has his deadlines, and I have mine—and on my world, mine take precedence. I think Arthur had better get used to the idea that Faligor will be ruling itself within the next two years."

Beddoes stared at him silently, thinking about what she had heard.

"Come, come, Susan," he said easily. "Have you nothing to say?"

"I'm in an awkward position, your majesty," she replied. "I have delivered Arthur Cartright's message to you. To say anything further would be to exceed my authority." She paused, undecided. "And yet I have some things I very much want to say."

"I will consider all remarks to be confidential," answered Bobby.

She considered his offer for a moment, then sighed. "All right," she said. "You have us over a barrel, your majesty. Under no circumstances will Cartright call in the Navy. If you push for immediate self-rule hard enough, he'll have to agree to it."

"Your words will not leave my office," Bobby assured her. "No one will ever claim that Susan Beddoes was the first Man to yield to our demands."

She shook her head. "I don't care if
that
leaves your office or not. The truth of it is self-evident. You know and I know and Arthur knows that he won't use force against you."

"Then what is it you wished to say?" asked Bobby.

Beddoes again considered keeping silent, but finally decided to speak. "You are doubtless going to have a planetary vote on self-rule," she began.

"Certainly."

"And it will win overwhelmingly."

"I would assume so."

"Your first order of business will be to elect a planetary government," she continued, "and I assume you will be running for the Presidency."

"That is my intention," said Bobby.

"If there is any chance whatsoever that William Barioke will run against you," she said, staring directly into his eyes, "I think you should do everything in your power to see that such an eventuality does not come to pass."

"You make it sound positively sinister," said Bobby, once again amused. "Would you care to define 'everything'?"

"I would not, your majesty. I would merely urge it."

Bobby got to his feet, signifying that the meeting was over.

"I am the acting President of Faligor, descended from three hundred sitates," he said, walking her to the ornate door of his office. "William Barioke is merely a Rizzali who I have chosen to use for my own political ends. Still," he added, "I thank you for your concern. When the election is over, I will remember who my friends are."

"I just hope you remember who your enemies are before the election is held," said Beddoes sincerely.

5.

The election was held 22 months later. The people of Faligor, as expected, voted overwhelmingly for self-rule.

Despite Cartography's opposition—or possibly because of it—William Barioke was elected President over Robert August Tantram II by a margin of 53 percent to 47 percent. As a gesture of goodwill and solidarity, the winner created the office of Prime Minister for the loser.

And Susan Beddoes took a long look at the rolling grassy plains outside her window and the fog-shrouded Hills of Heaven off in the distance, and decided that it was time to think of leaving the Diamond of the Outer Frontier and returning to the worlds of the Republic.

Part 2:

GLASS

INTERLUDE

You wander through the streets, past the ruins of the notorious Government Science Bureau, the smell of the dying and the dead heavy in the air. You can see the green savannah between the frames of two burnt-out houses, stretching all the way to the so-called Hills of Heaven, and you wonder if a single living thing exists anywhere within your field of vision.

It's difficult to remember that Johnny Ramsey once wandered those plains, hunting animals for the natural history museum back on Deluros VIII, that Sabare University was once considered the finest alien seat of learning on the Outer Frontier, that Men and jasons and moles lived and worked in peace and tranquility not fifty yards from where you are standing.

Oh, you've heard the stories, read the headlines, seen holographs of the slaughter—but that was all about some incredibly distant world gone mad, it had no relevance to you. Now you're here, and try as you might, you can't imagine how it came to pass.

Did no one see what was coming? Were no voices raised in protest? If the jasons didn't care, what about the thousands of Men who had made this their home? Wasn't there a day, an hour, a moment, when one of them could have stood up and said, "Stop! This far and no farther!"

And where was the Republic during this descent into hell? It opened the world, educated the people, taught them farming and mining and commerce and the complexities of government. How could it just turn its back and pretend nothing was happening?

Good questions, all. But the one you keep coming back to is this: How did it all begin? . . .

6.

There were problems right from the start.

Since Emperor Bobby had erected enough modern buildings in Romulus to house a government, William Barioke, rather than spending the money to build a new capitol, simply appropriated Romulus for his own. Within a month of the election, the opera house had been converted into the parliament, the theater into the High Court, the two largest tourist hotels into government offices, and Bobby's own house became the Presidential Mansion.

Soon Romulus, which had been populated almost exclusively by Men and the Enkoti, was overrun with members of the Rizzali, most of whom were working for the government. Bobby protested to Arthur Cartright, who explained that the emperor had insisted on self-rule and would now have to live with the consequences of his actions.

After a few months of lobbying without success, Bobby decided to move the Prime Minister's offices to Remus, some fifty miles away. He paid for a new mansion with his own funds, but managed to raise the money for a new theater and sports complex from Men and moles, and within less than a year Remus had replaced Romulus as the cultural center of Faligor, and most of the commerce moved there as well.

As the Men and moles followed the Enkotis' exodus from Romulus, the capitol began falling into a state of disrepair. Barioke spent a fruitless three months urging them to move back, and then appropriated Remus for the government as well.

Bobby, who understood how government worked, went to the press and vehemently protested—but Barioke, who understood how power worked, simply shut down those segments of the media that presented the prime minister's case. Then the president took to the airwaves—everywhere but in the heartland of the Enkoti—and explained that he was the president of all the jasons, and that he would never agree to the Enkoti demand for special treatment. If the prime minister would not abide by the constitution, he concluded, then he would reluctantly have to remove him from office.

Bobby countered by holding a huge rally at the recently-constructed sports arena in Remus. 40,000 Enkoti and Men filled the seats, and after a few lesser Enkoti officials addressed the crowd, Bobby himself stood before the microphones.

"I will not stand by and watch my people being systematically robbed by a government that has sworn to eradicate tribalism and favoritism," he announced. "Where in the constitution does it say that entire cities can be appropriated by executive fiat or, even worse, by executive whim? Where does it say that the president can deny the prime minister access to the media? The Enkoti don't ask for special treatment, but merely for fair treatment—and if we cannot get it from William Barioke, then we shall present our case to the Republic."

During the applause that followed, Bobby scanned the faces at the front of the audience, and stopped when he came to a huge jason in a military uniform.

"I see that Barioke has sent his general here to listen to what I have to say," he continued. "And doubtless to report every word back to him." He paused and smiled. "Are the words I'm using too big for you, General Labu?" he asked sarcastically.

The audience laughed, none more loudly than Gama Labu himself.

"Perhaps you would like to come up onto the platform and tell us what you are doing here?" said Bobby.

Labu, accompanied by his own personal translator, got to his feet and climbed the small set of stairs with his ungainly stride.

"I am not political," he said, speaking in Maringo and obviously uncomfortable before such a large audience. "We are all jasons, and I will never hold a grudge against another of my kind. I am a soldier, so I go where my president sends me, but I have no opinion in these matters."

"And what will you tell your president?" demanded Bobby when the translator had finished.

Labu grinned. "That the arena food is not very good, but the human beer is excellent!"

The tension was diffused by a burst of laughter. Labu smiled and waved to the crowd, then took his seat and listened as Bobby concluded his tirade.

The next morning Labu was back, with five hundred soldiers, to place the prime minister under house arrest.

The first person Bobby sent for was Arthur Cartright, who showed up half an hour later and found his way blocked by Labu himself.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Cartright. "I have been summoned here by the prime minister."

Labu shrugged, a grotesque gesture for an alien with his enormous bulk.

"Thank you very much," he said with a smile.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Thank you very much," repeated Labu.

Then Cartright remembered that the jason was uncomfortable with Terran, quite possibly illiterate it in, and he switched to the Maringo dialect.

"What is going on here?" he said.

"I am simply following my orders," replied Labu.

"You were ordered to arrest the prime minister and confine him to his house?" said Cartright. "Why?"

Labu shrugged again. "I have no idea," he said. "I am sure it must be a mistake, and will soon be corrected."

"Does the president know about this?"

"He is the one who issued the order," replied Labu with a huge grin.

Cartright paused and stared at Labu for a moment. "The prime minister has sent for me," he said at last. "May I please pass through your lines?"

"Of course, friend Cartright," said Labu. "We are great friends, are we not?"

"I don't know," said Cartright. "Are we?"

"Of course, of course," said Labu, thumping him on the back. "I have no enemies."

"That must be a great comfort," said Cartright.

Labu laughed uproariously, as if Cartright had just made a joke, then stepped aside and signaled his men to let the human through. A moment later another uniformed jason escorted him into the mansion and up to the door of Bobby's bedroom. The door slid open long enough for Cartright to step inside the room, then closed behind him.

"Arthur!" said Bobby, rising from a huge desk where he had been scribbling something in longhand. "I am so glad you came!"

"What's happened?" asked Cartright. "I got your message, and I arrived to find your house surrounded by the army."

"I don't know!" said Bobby. "They haven't charged me with anything—but they won't let me leave!"

"Last night's speech didn't exactly endear you to your enemies," said Certright. "Let me contact Barioke and see what we can work out."

"Thank you."

Cartright left the prime minister's home and returned to his office, where he called Barioke on the vidphone. After twenty minutes of being transferred from one bureaucrat to another, he was finally connected to the lean, conservatively-attired president.

"Good morning, Mr. Cartright," said Barioke. "I've been expecting to hear from you."

"Then you must know why I'm calling, Mr. President."

"Certainly."

There was a long pause.

"Well?" said Cartright.

"Well what, Mr. Cartright?"

"Why has he been arrested?"

"He has not been arrested," replied Barioke. "No charges have been made."

"Then why has he been confined to his quarters by the head of your army?"

"Because I don't know what to do with him, and I am keeping him there until I can decide."

"That's illegal!"

"Would you be happier if I charge him with treason?" asked Barioke mildly. "I have every right to, you know."

"He's broken no laws."

"He threatened to disobey a presidential edict," said Barioke, "and he did it in front of 40,000 witnesses. Left to his own devices, I am sure he will eventually urge the Enkoti to rebel against the planetary government and set up their own separate state."

"You can't arrest him because of what you think he might do!" said Cartright.

"Do you think it would be wiser to wait until he had completely discredited the duly elected government?" asked Barioke sardonically.

"I think the two of you should get together and sort out your differences," said Cartright. "I will be happy to act as a mediator if you feel one is necessary."