To return to smaller matters. We of course wanted to know why these pirates had not simply stolen females from Canopus, since a spacecraft had been stolen—if not more than one. We could only conclude that Shammat was afraid of Canopus, and afraid of us, too: believing that punishment would more likely follow theft of people than theft of things. Rightly. But there was more to it than that. These Shammatans, returning day after day, climbing up the road to our fortress headquarters, did so for the same reason we were so ready to listen to them: they wanted to find out what we were doing.
We asked them at one point why they had not simply kidnapped some of the indigenous natives—at this point we had to suffer conniving glances and grimaces, as criminals—but saw that they wanted not the unevolved unregenerate stock but the new improved stock, and members of this they were afraid of stealing, since they were all in the new fine cities where the Giants lived, too. They were quite remarkably shamefaced and shifty about this, and itching with greed. Why had they not stolen some members of our other species—both failed and successful—who had, at various times, populated the Southern Continents? But again, it was the same: all these different types and kinds and stocks and strains were not good enough. Not good enough for these nasty thieves of Shammatans sitting there in their red jackets—Canopean ex-colonial uniform of centuries back; in their green pantaloons—Puttioran fashion, long outdated; their hide shoes made from some unfortunate animals somewhere. No, they wanted the best. Their eyes were fevered as they talked of the fine, handsome, healthy females in the glorious cities up north. And they talked lip-lickingly of “those females on Canopus—they’ve got yellow hair and blue eyes, so we hear…” (This was untrue.) And all this while they ate me up with their eyes. I could see that their fingers itched to feel hair and poke pale skin.
Shortly after these visitors took themselves off—back to the northern areas, not to Shammat—we discovered that the females who had volunteered for breeding service had also been visited by Shammat. To the extent that some of the progeny were Shammatan. There had been plots to escape, with Shammatan help. These had failed. But it was now important to watch for Shammat characteristics among the race of colonisers that we had been so proud of. Later still we had again to modify our conclusions. Some of the breeding females had in fact escaped. Their places had been taken Shammatan substitutes. The escaped ones had gone to Shammat, taking a good supply of the best Sirian genes with them. Some of these females had originated in our C.P. 7 of fair-haired, blue-eyed stock—Planet 7 was the birthplace of my mother. They had proved very popular on Shammat, and new supplies were being demanded…
I come to the end of this phase on Rohanda.
About ten thousand years after the Canopus-Rohanda “Lock,” we were summoned to an urgent conference. Canopus had to announce disaster. Unexpected cosmic changes… failure of the “Lock”… total write-off of the poor planet for whose sake Rohandan development been speeded up… degeneration and dislocation of Rohanda inevitable.
We were told to expect random and wild mutations and changes of every kind among our experimental species; advised to limit our attempts until these changes could be monitored and understood.
I have to admit that at first we believed this was a feint, a ploy.
Particularly as we did not receive reports of any increased activity in the north—for instance, no increase in visits by their spacecraft. But then, their visits had always been few, and this had reinforced our belief that the “contacts” they were always hinting at were to do with communications.
We heard that a single emissary had arrived and was stationed in a circular city in a region where there were many inland seas. This was Johor, an official then of junior rank. Soon after that, our spies reported that spacecraft had taken off nearly the entire complement of Giants from the north, though a few had escaped. Our spies then submitted reports that seemed contradictory, vague, even foolish—we understood that Canopus had not exaggerated the ill effects that would be expected. We recalled our spies, though a few never returned at all, and shipped out the remaining experimental subjects. After only few years, these were showing signs of decrease in life-span and of tendency towards rapid reversal to barbarism—but this particular phase of Rohanda is so well documented under Social Pathology that I shall not linger over it: it has become, after all, the classic case of sudden evolutionary reversal. Our most urgent question C.P. 23, which had been established as our Think-Planet—if I may be forgiven the flippancy at such a serious point in my story. It was completely dependent on supplies from Southern Continent I. We decided not to make alterations in our agricultural stations. It was necessary to increase our police establishment almost at once, for it was discovered that workers previously quite reliable had taken to pilfering, and then, slowly, to various kinds of criminality. Still we maintained our agriculture. Then something unexpected: waves of invaders from the area of the inland seas came sweeping down, destroying first the more northerly agricultural stations, but then penetrating further and further south. Who were these rapacious ones? None other than the natives brought to such a high pitch of civic and personal responsibility by Canopus. What it amounted to was that we would have to maintain armies right across the top of Southern Continent I. Full-scale and urgent conferences were held on the Sirian Mother Planet itself. Our military resources were stretched to their limit by the unrest on many of our Colonised Planets. We had no alternative but to withdraw from Rohanda.
Other arrangements were going to have to be made for C.P. 23: its brief but glorious career was concluded, and the Thinkers were transferred elsewhere.
I went on a last survey of S.C. I, just before the end. Everywhere over this noble continent, similar to S.C. II, but even larger and more various, were our agricultural areas. Each little group of buildings was surrounded by vast fields over which our servicing and surveillance machines hovered, glittering in the sunlight: green and yellow and umber fields, and brightly coloured craft. The shining rivers… the infinitely variegated greens of the plantations… the irrigation canals… enormous transparent structures for hydroponics, and for general research… I cannot pretend that I enjoyed that final trip. Even then they were dismantling the stations, while the enormous craft of our Inter-Colony Heavy Transport Fleet were landing and taking off, loaded with these structures, and with the last of our crops. I flew over some stations that had already been evacuated. Our policy to disrupt the landscape as little as possible had succeeded. Nothing was left to be seen but some hastily harvested that would shortly be reclaimed by jungle and forest, and some belts of introduced trees that were already Rohandan. The millennia of our occupation would soon have left no traces.
I was not feeling myself, and Ambien I was not either. We put this down to disappointment at this check of our plans. Then all our team confessed to general malaise and low spirits. It became evident that our mental powers were being affected. There was nothing for it: I gave the order for us all to leave Rohanda.
Shortly after that, Canopus convened a conference, again on Colony 10. Rohanda was only one of the items on the agenda. At the time it did not seem more important than the others.
It has always seemed to me that this question of "hindsight" is not to be solved!
What I see now, looking back, is not what I experienced then, but are we to cancel out former, and more immature, ways of viewing things? As if they did not matter, had no effect?—but of course not.
Among the many interests Canopus and Sirius had in common at that time one stood out. The Colony 10 Giants, returned to their own planet and waiting for new work to be allotted to them, had suffered. Now twice the size of their former compatriots and evolved beyond them, they could not settle in their old ways, nor was Planet 10 able to accept them easily. Superiority is never easily tolerated.