“We shall rendezvous with Planet Yils in twenty-three hours, sir,” Jjle informed him. “Have you any directives?”
“Carry on,” Darius replied.
The exec nodded without trace of a smile. Darius completed the tour of the ship, gradually becoming comfortable with it and his position in it. He was a figurehead, true—but it seemed that all captains were figureheads, normally.
He repaired to the ship’s library, which was merely a chamber with screens in contact with a number of planets in the galaxy, and with the help of Cat and the resident Ovine neuter, Sheep, he learned as much as he could assimilate about the colony on Planet Yils. The first human mission had come there approximately a thousand years before—all times were scaled to the Earthly measurements, because this was a human Empire—and settlement had proceeded. There had been a lively export of “escargots” for wealthy cuisine, until someone had noticed that the big snails were intelligent. Technically they qualified for sapient-species recognition and protection. But the Empire had never been much for technicalities, so the export continued on a muted basis. The natives were placid folk who did not hold grudges, so there was no fuss.
Now, however, the marauding was becoming an embarrassment. The actual value of the damage was not great, but the seeming inability of the colonists to stop it reflected adversely on the Empire. There was also the suspicion that the natives might be finally developing notions of objection to human rule, and of course that had to be emphatically squelched. It was necessary not only to stop the monster, but to ascertain exactly how it had come on the scene and what had enabled it to operate so long without being stopped. The suggestion of mind-blasting was especially sensitive. The Empire had overwhelming superiority in conventional weapons of all types, but something that could stun a mind without physical contact was alarming.
Darius retired to his quarters and pondered. This just might prove to be a more difficult mission than had been suggested. Was it possible that Ddwng really was providing him with a challenge that would prove his mettle one way or the other? Mind-stunning, if done by intelligent creatures who were organized, could prove to be a threat to more than just a single colony.
Then why assign the mission to an ignorant outsider? It wasn’t to get rid of him, because Ddwng wanted him to survive to show the way to his home Mode and the Chip there. Darius was not a conspirator by nature, but he had a certain notion of the ways in which people of doubtful loyalty could be tested. They could be provided with the opportunity to do some secret wrong. Believing they were unobserved, they usually revealed their basic natures.
Suppose Ddwng hesitated to trust himself to the Virtual Mode with only Darius as a guide? The Emperor would not be able to take any of his loyal minions along unless he remained in constant contact with them, which would be awkward. How well Darius knew! That meant he would have to trust Darius and his companions of the Virtual Mode. After requiring Darius’ cooperation by threatening the young woman he loved. That would seem chancy indeed!
But if Darius turned out to be trustworthy, the risk became feasible. If Darius’ nature was honest, then his word, once given, was good. That might well be more important to Ddwng than the outcome of the mission on Planet Yils. That ten-day deadline might be as much for Ddwng as for Darius: time to study the visitor to this Mode, to come to a conclusion about him.
Darius was a Cyng, a man of inherent power. He had never had the need to deal in anything other than the truth, and hardly cared to demean himself by doing so now. But he had never before been faced with such a difficult choice. Should he save the woman he loved by pledging to enable a conqueror to ravage other Modes? That would represent a loss of honor. But if the alternative was to lose Colene—
Well, he still had most of nine days to make the decision. Or did he? Could this span of time be another kind of test? A person who waited until the end to make the pledge surely was doing it only as a last resort. One who made it at the outset might simply be saying it as a matter of convenience, without sincerity. The sincere man would take time to study the situation and think it through, then make his decision in timely fashion.
Provos believed he would make the pledge. But she could not know what was in his heart, and neither could Ddwng. A liar and a truth-teller would say the same thing, to get his way. But in a situation of challenge and decision, the reactions of the two would probably differ. Ddwng and his minions had surely had a great deal of experience in judging how the two differed.
But a single episode was not enough. It was necessary to know a person as well as possible, and to judge whether his decision was consistent with the pattern of his personality. Even if a person made a commitment with sincerity, he could not be trusted if it was not in accord with his nature. Men did not always know their own wills.
Darius realized that he had probably been under observation throughout, waking and sleeping, and would be for the duration of this venture. It didn’t matter; he had been too busy getting his bearings to act in any way atypical of himself. But now that he realized this, it did matter. He could not form a pattern of action consistent with one decision, then decide the other way.
But he hadn’t made his decision! How could he be consistent with an unknown?
Provos had given him the key to that. He would have to comport himself in a manner consistent with a decision to accede to Ddwng’s demand. If he then did so, it would be trusted. If he did not, then the pattern would be inconsistent—but that would not matter, because an inconsistent pattern was similar to a negative one, for Ddwng’s purpose. Either would mean that it was not safe to enter the Virtual Mode with him.
Was the choice truly between Colene and the welfare of the Modes? He would have to search for some compromise. But meanwhile he would assume that he was going to agree to give Ddwng the Chip. He did love Colene, and this was the only likely way to save her.
He looked up. There were the three Felines, not watching him, but alert for any required service. Cat had been of service today; the other two had not. He had to do something about that.
“Tom, try to enable me to see Colene again,” he said.
Tom jumped to manipulate the screen. This time he quickly got through to the Swine. However far the ship was from Earth, it seemed to entail no delay in communication.
But the bureaucracy would not be rushed. Tom had to go through the litany of requests and clarifications. Finally a man with the seeming head of a horse appeared on the screen. “The Lady Colene is not accessible at the moment,” Stallion said.
“Why not?” Tom demanded.
“Because she is riding her horse.”
Darius was surprised. A horse had been mentioned, and it had slipped his mind. She was allowed to ride it? But of course they wouldn’t let her ride it into the Virtual Mode. She must have ridden it all the way to this Mode, to prevent it from being lost in the intervening Modes.
“Stick with it,” Darius said. “She won’t ride forever, and when she’s done she will be available.” He did want to see Colene again, but that was not all of it; he wanted to be sure that Tom had enough of a challenge even if he failed to get Colene so that it counted as a full service.