”I've never heard anything of that kind,” said Cameron. ”In fact we've heard almost nothing at all of the Nucleus. That's why we decided to come.”
”I'm sure we can make you glad you did. Don't you think so, Karone?”
The face of the Id was very sober as he nodded solemnly and said, ”Indeed, Master.” His burning eyes were boring directly into Cameron's own.
”I want to hear about your people, about Earth,” said Marthasa. ”Tell me what you would like to see and do while you're in the Nucleus.”
While Joyce answered, explaining they hardly knew what there was to be seen, Cameron's attention was fixed by the problem of the strange relationship between the two men — the two races. In the face of the Id there seemed a serenity, a dignity that the Markovian would never know. Why had the Ids failed to lift themselves out of servility to a state of independence, he wondered?
Joyce explained the story about their honeymoon trip and built their interest in Markovian culture as casual indeed. As she went on, Marthasa seemed to be struck by a sudden thought.
”I insist that you make your headquarters with me during your stay,” he said. ”I can see that you learn everything possible about the Nucleus while you are here. My son is a Chief Historian at our largest research library and my daughter has the post of Assistant Curator at our Museum of Science and Culture. You will never have a better opportunity to examine the culture of the Nucleus!”
Cameron winced inwardly at the thought of Marthasa's companionship during their whole stay, and yet the Markovian's statement might be perfectly true — there would be no better opportunity to make their study.
”We have an official note of welcome from your Executive Head, Premier Jargla,” he said. ”While we would be very happy to accept your invitation, it may be that he has different plans for our reception.”
Marthasa waved a hand. ”I shall arrange for my appointment as your official host. Consider it agreed upon!”
It was agreed. But Joyce was not as optimistic as Cameron in regarding it an aid to their study. ”If they have a general aversion to talking about their pirate ancestry, Marthasa is just the boy to put us off the track,” she said. ”If he gets a clue to what we really want to know, he'll keep us busy looking at everything else until we give up and go home.”
Cameron leaned back in the deep chair with his hands behind his head. ”It's not too hard to imagine Marthasa's great-great-grandfather running down vessels in space and pillaging helpless cities on other planets. The veneer of civilization on him doesn't look very thick.”
”It's not hard to imagine Marthasa doing it,” said Joyce. ”A scimitar between his teeth would be completely in character!”
”If all goes well, you will probably see just that — figuratively speaking, of course. Where a cultural shift has been so great as this one you are certain to see evidence of both levels in conflict with one another. It's like a geologic fault line. Once we learn enough about the current mores the anomalies will stand out in full view. That's what we want to watch for.”
”One thing that's out of character right now is his offer of assistance through his son, the Chief Historian,” said Joyce. ”That doesn't check with the previous invitations to stay home. Once they let us have access to their historical records we'll have them pegged.”
”We haven't got it yet,” said Cameron. ”We can't be sure just what they'll let us see. But for my money I'd just as soon tackle the question of the Ids. Sal Karone is twice the man Marthasa is, yet he acts like he has no will of his own when the Markovian is around.”
”The Roman-slave relationship,” said Joyce. ”The Markovians probably conquered a large community of the Ids in their pirate days and brought them here as slaves. And I'll bet they are very much aware that the Ids are the better men. Marthasa knows it. That's why he has to put on a show in front of Sal Karone. He's the old Roman merchant struggling to keep up his conviction of superiority before the Greek scholar slave.”
”The Ids aren't supposed to be slaves. According to the little that's known they are completely free. I'm going to get Marthasa's version of it, anyway. Fothergill and the Foundation can't object to that much investigation of the Ids.”
He found the Markovian completely willing to talk about his sargh. On the last day of the voyage they managed to be alone for a time without the presence of Sal Karone.
Marthasa shook his head in answer to Cameron's question. ”No, the sargh is not a slave — not in the sense I believe you mean it. None of the Ids are. It's a matter of religion with them to be attached to us the way they are. They have some incomprehensible belief that their existence is of no value unless they are serving their fellow beings. Since that means all of them they can't be satisfied by serving each other so they have to pick on some other race.
”I don't recall when they first showed up in the Nucleus, but it's been many generations ago. There've been Ids in my family for a half dozen generations anyway.”
”They had space flight, so they came under their own power?” Cameron asked incredulously.
”No. Nothing like that. You can't imagine them building spaceships can you? They migrated at first as lowest-class passengers on the commercial lines. Nobody knows just where they came from. They don't even know their home worlds. At first we tried to persuade them to go somewhere else, but then we saw how useful they could be with their fanatic belief in servitude.
”At present there is probably no family in the Nucleus that doesn't have at least one Id sargh. Many of us have one for every member of the family.” Marthasa paused. The tone of his voice changed. ”When you've had one almost all your life as I've had Sal Karone it — well, it does something to you.”
”What do you mean?” Cameron asked cautiously.
”Consider the situation from Sal Karone's point of view. He has no life whatever that is his own. His whole purpose is to give me companionship and satisfy my requirements. And I don't have to force him in any way. It's all voluntary. He's free to leave, even, any time he wants to. But I'm certain he never will.”
”Why do you feel so sure of this?”
”It's hard to explain. I feel as if I've become so much a part of him that he couldn't survive alone any more. He's the one who's made it that way, not me. I have become indispensable to his existence. That's the way I explain it to myself. Most of my friends agree that this is about right.”
”It's rather difficult to understand a relationship like that — unless you put it in terms I am familiar with on Earth.”
”Yes—? What would it be called among your people?”
”When a man so devotes his life to another we say it is because of love.”
Marthasa considered the word. ”You would be wrong,” he said. ”It is just that in some way we have become indispensable to the Ids. They're parasites, if you want to put it that way. But they provide us a relationship we can get nowhere else, and that does us a great deal of good. That's what I meant when I said it does something to us.”
”What about the Id's own culture? Haven't they any community ties among themselves, or do they ignore their own kind?”
”We've never investigated very much. I suppose some of our scholars know the answer to that, but the rest of us don't. The Ids have communities, all right. Not all of them are in service as sarghs at one time. They have little groups and communities on the outskirts of our cities, but they don't amount to much. As a race they are simply inferior. They don't have the capacity for a strong culture of their own, so they can't exist independently and build a social structure like other people. It's this religion of theirs that does it. They won't let go of it, and as long as they hang onto it they can't stand on their own feet. But you don't need to feel sorry for them. We treat them all right.”