“Pretty much,” Dar confirmed. “But we do have to have an eye for profit and loss.”
“How about the loss to the Army?”
“Hm?” Dar looked up. “What loss?”
“Those laser parts—they’re military issue, aren’t they?”
Dar stared at her while his smile congealed.
“Come on,” Sam wheedled, “you can trust me. I mean, after all, I know enough to sink you already, if I really wanted to.”
Dar’s smile cracked into a grin. “How? We’re already sunk here.”
Sam frowned, nonplussed. “But how do you know I’m not a BOA spy? Or an Army spy, trying to find out what Shacklar’s really doing here? For all you know, when I get back to Terra, I might issue a report that would get him pulled off this planet.”
Dar nodded. “Yeah. You could be.”
Sam inched away from him, watching him as a mouse watches a waking cat.
“But you obviously aren’t,” Dar finished.
Sam frowned indignantly. “How the hell could you tell?”
“Well, in the first place, I don’t believe anybody on Terra really cares about what happens out here—not in the Army, and not in BOA either.”
“Shacklar is building a power base,” Sam pointed out.
“Power to do what? He can’t even conquer the Wolmen.”
“But he is trying to weld them into one solid unit with his convicts.”
Dar smiled, amused. “And just what do you think he’ll do with that unit? Build a very long ladder, and climb to Terra?” He shook his head. “There’s no way Shacklar can be a threat to anybody off this planet—and the boys on Terra don’t care what kind of threat he is to anybody on this planet.” He tossed the plastic cube in the air and caught it, grinning. “Not that I think you really are a spy. Of course, you could be a reporter, looking for a little bit of muck to rake, but why would you come all this way for it?”
“To find something to report,” Sam said with a vindictive smile. “Nothing ever happens on Terra.”
Dar shrugged. “Okay—let’s say you really are that hard up. What could you actually do? Turn in a ten-minute report for a 3DT show about the horrible, crooked, scandalous doings out here on Wolmar?”
“Sure. You’re far enough away to have a touch of the exotic. It might really catch on for a while. We’re really bored on Terra.”
Dar shrugged. “So we’d be a six-day wonder”
“Nine.”
“Nine. And the Army would say, ‘My Heavens! We didn’t realize that was going on!’ And they’d send a formal, official notice to Shacklar that would say, ‘You naughty, naughty boy! How dare you do all these horrible things! The way you’re treating your convicts is criminal!’ And Shacklar, I’m sure, would give them fifty excellent reasons, and finish by saying, ‘But of course, since this isn’t what you want, I’ll be glad to do it your way.’ And Central HQ would say, ‘Fine. You do it our way.’ Which they would go tell the media, and the media would tell it to the people in another show, and the people would sit back with that nice, solid feeling that they’d actually managed to accomplish something. And everybody would forget about it.”
“And Shacklar wouldn’t actually do anything?”
“Oh, sure—he’d give me a week of chores for shooting off my mouth. Which is okay; it’s restful to do something that doesn’t involve any responsibility, now and then.”
Sam sighed. “All right. Then you should just tell me about those laser parts because you want to—and because there’s no good reason not to… Is there?”
“None, except my firm conviction that you’ll put the worst possible construction on anything I tell you. What about those laser parts?”
“They’re military issue, aren’t they?”
“Sure. What else would a general be able to get, that natives would want?”
“That doesn’t strike you as a little bit corrupt?”
“Why? They’re being used for a military purpose.”
“The Wolmen’s military purpose!” Sam exploded. “It’s gunrunning!”
“I suppose you could call it that,” Dar said judiciously.
“ ‘Suppose’! Don’t you realize you’re signing your own death warrants?”
“Not as long as things stay peaceful,” Dar pointed out. “Shacklar has more faith in trade than in firepower. It’s awfully hard to fight your own customers.”
“But not exactly unknown.”
“True,” Dar agreed. “That’s why it’s so important to get the two groups to understand each other, and do some socializing. You might fight your customer, but you won’t fight your friend—if we can get them to be friends. If a real war does start, and if all the Wolman tribes ever unite against us, we’re dead. They outnumber us a thousand to one. Blasters would just speed up the process, that’s all.”
“Then why not sell them blasters?” Sam demanded. “Why just spare parts?”
“Well, for one thing, whole blasters are a little difficult to get the Army to ship to a prison planet.” Dar pressed a button in the side of the plastic cube; it started to hum. “But spare parts they’ll ship us by the thousands.”
Sam shook her head. “The insanities of bureaucracy!” She watched the humming cube begin to unfold and expand. “And for another thing?”
“For another thing, if we just sell them parts and instruction manuals, they have to learn how to put the dern things together.” Dar smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. “And that makes ‘em begin to wonder how and why it works—so they end up learning technology. Wait’ll they find out what a headache that lathe’s going to be! Just to get it working, they’ll have to learn so much!”
“Something of a sadist, aren’t you?”
“It goes with being a teacher.” Dar watched the plastic cube finish swelling into a slant-roofed shack, ten feet on a side. “ ‘Bout time to turn in for the night.”
Sam shook her head, looking frazzled. “If I’d known it was like this …”
“Hey, I never promised you a grav-bed or synthsilk sheets!”
“No, no! I mean this whole planet! The structure your General’s built up! The things he’s trying to do! If I’d known it was like this, I would’ve personally put a bomb on that new governor’s ship!”
Dar froze halfway through the door.
Then he looked back over his shoulder. “Excuse me—what was that again?”
“The new governor.” Sam frowned. “You know—the one that’s supposed to arrive tomorrow.”
Dar uncoiled back out of the door and straightened up. “No, as it happens, I didn’t know. And neither does anyone else on Wolmar.”
“They didn’t tell you?” Sam looked startled. “Well … anyway, they’re doing it. BOA’s sending out a new governor, with power to ship Shacklar home and take over all his authority. They’re kind of unhappy that the ‘Wolman Question’ is taking so long to resolve.”
“Oh, they are?” Dar breathed. “How interesting. How’d you come by this fascinating little tidbit? Common knowledge back on Terra?”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it headline news…”
“We’re not quite that important,” Dar agreed dryly.
“It was the last piece of paper to cross my desk the day I quit—arranging transportation for this man Bhelabher and his aides.”
“Bhelabher, mm? What’s he like?”
“Oh …” Sam shrugged. “You know—nothing exceptional. A career civil servant, that’s all.”
“Quite,” Dar agreed. “Stodgy, you might say?”
“Stuffy,” Sam confirmed. “Very conservative—especially about military procedure and the treatment of convicts… What are you doing?”