Chapter Six
Seated at the head of the table, Colonel Paran said with military punctiliousness, "The situation facing us is one peculiar to this planet. Unless it is resolved, it will destroy our financial structure; therefore it is imperative that all operations be conducted on a basis of minimum destruction. It would be interesting, Earl, to learn if you have come across a similar situation, and the means you devised to conclude it."
Dumarest leaned back in his chair, not answering, studying instead the others at the board. Colonel Paran had not come alone. With him were two others, both men of middle age, uncomfortable in their uniforms of maroon and gray. Colonel Oaken was plump, with a worried frown ingrained between his eyes. Colonel Stone was thin, harassed.
He said, "You don't answer. May I ask why?"
"Before I could even begin to answer, I would need far more information. There is no one sure formula for winning a war. If there was, the worlds I represent would have no purposeful existence."
Paran caught the hint. "Of course, as a mercenary you cannot be expected to give advice without recompense. That has been considered. You will not find us ungenerous." His eyes drifted to his companions. "That is agreed, gentlemen?"
"Well, I'm not too sure about that." Oaken was cautious. '"It depends on the value of the advice. Words come cheap when that is all that is supplied."
"Then it seems that this conference is at an end." Dumarest rose. "Thank you, gentlemen. There is no point in wasting further time."
"A moment." Paran waited until he regained his seat. "Earl, I will be frank with you. Chard is unused to war. We have uniforms, bands, some weapons, and eager volunteers, but that is about all. The thing came on us so quickly that we had little warning, and less time to prepare. Let me put you into the picture. Our main crop, the one on which our economy depends, is lofios-a plant which provides fruit, fiber, and rare oils for the making of perfumes and unguents. We also have a native form of life, manlike and, as some suggest, the descendants of an early wave of settlement."
"The Ayutha," rumbled Oaken. "Savages."
"Not exactly," protested Stone. "Primitive, perhaps, or so we always thought. Barbaric, even, but not savage."
"After what they've done?"
"Gentlemen!" Paran slammed his hand on the table. "This is no time for personal opinions. We are faced with facts. Let us deal with them."
"Homand," rumbled Oaken. "Maysown. They are facts enough."
"Villages which have been destroyed," explained Paran. Of the three, he was the only one with pretense to the rank he bore; the others, Dumarest guessed, were merchants, given high rank to win their support and salve their pride. "Let me illustrate."
He unrolled a map that he had brought with him, spreading it on the table as his finger tapped at a variety of places.
"Our main planting area stretched from here, about twenty miles from the city, up to the hills and beyond. There are essential minerals in the soil which promote rapid growth, and though we are planting to the south and closer to the town, so far we have had little success. The first attack was here." His finger moved, halted, tapping. "A small community, which was utterly destroyed."
"How?"
"What?"
"How was it destroyed?" repeated Dumarest. "With lasers, gas, what?"
"We think with a form of nerve gas coupled with impact weapons. The bodies bore wounds consistent with those caused by clubs and edged steel. To continue, an expedition was sent to retaliate, and a village of the Ayutha destroyed. Some crops were fired, and other attacks made. They are escalating-the details are unimportant at this time. The point is that if the destruction continues, Chard faces ruin."
"Which is exactly what those savages want," stormed Oaken. "They know we depend on the crop-how best to hurt us than by destroying it!"
Dumarest said, "Don't they need it too?"
"They did," admitted Paran. "A lot of them are employed on the farms. They work, send money back to their villages, that sort of thing. In fact, we had a perfect working relationship with them. If it hadn't been for the evidence, I would never have thought them responsible."
"Who else could it be?" snapped Oaken. "I tell you, the only way we're going to solve this problem is by wiping them out. Every last damn one of them!"
"Then who will work the fields?" Stone was practical. "Their labor comes cheap; use other, and we'll price ourselves out of business."
"They want our world," insisted Oaken. "They think they own it. They're trying to kick us off the planet." He scowled. "We've got to kill them, clear them out."
"How? Arm every man and turn him loose to hunt them down? You know what the hills are like. Can you imagine what it would cost in money and lives? Just remember what happened to the last volunteer force we sent in."
"They destroyed a village."
"The first one, yes, but the second?" Stone shrugged. "They got themselves wiped out to a man."
Colonel Paran sighed. "That is old history, gentlemen. We have to think of the future." To Dumarest he said, "You realize the complexity of the situation?"
Greed coupled with hate and fear, an old, familiar combination. The human desire to have the cake and eat it at the same time. As yet, this war seemed to be no more than a few raiding parties driven by some unguessed motive. No wonder he had seen no antiaerial defenses-savages would hardly own aircraft.
But then, savages wouldn't use nerve gas, either-if it had really been used.
He said, "What is their political organization?"
"A loose federation of tribes governed by elders," said Paran. "We have tried to aid them, of course. Social workers have lived among them." He added bitterly, "I assume they are all dead now."
"Well?" Oaken was impatient. "You have heard what Paran has told you. How can we end this war without ruining ourselves at the same time?"
"There are only three ways to end any war," said Dumarest coldly. "This information will cost you nothing. You can win, you can lose, or you can negotiate. In many cases, it is better to lose; an early surrender will, at least, save lives and property. There is no logic in continuing to fight against a force which you cannot defeat."
Stone frowned. "A strange philosophy from one from the Warrior Worlds."
"A realistic one. I am a mercenary; war is my trade. You are in business, I take it? Then you know the futility of selling goods below their cost of manufacture. In war there comes a point where the object to be attained simply is not worth the effort expended. That naturally, is a variable."
"Let us not talk of losing," said Paran.
"I mentioned it only to clarify the situation," said Dumarest. "To win, at times, is also unwise. With sufficient force it is possible to defeat any enemy, but if the force used is too great, what have you won? Corpses and desolation. In my experience, it is always better to negotiate."
"With killers? Murdering savages?" Oaken slammed his hand on the table. "Never!"
Dumarest shrugged. "That is for you to decide, gentlemen. However, as you should know, the use of force tends to escalate. First the use of limited weapons, then ones that are more powerful, then the ultimate in destruction. If that is your choice, I suggest you skip the intermediate steps. Radioactive dusts scattered over the areas in which the enemy is to be found will destroy them without loss of life on your own side. The mothers of your soldiers, at least, will be grateful."
"Radioactives?" Oaken stared his horror. "But they will destroy the crops! Ruin the soil for a generation to come!"
"Yes."
"And that is your expert advice?"
"I have given you no advice. I have merely mentioned possibilities." Dumarest rose, ending the conference. "You seem unable to make up your minds, gentlemen. My trade, as I have said, is war. As yet I have received no offer for my services."
Colonel Paran said quickly, "You would consider an engagement?"