Chapter 23

The colored turbulence faded into the gray of hyperspace; five hundred hours to Tanith. Guatt Kirbey was securing his control-panel, happy to return to his music. And Vann Larch would go back to his paints and brushes, and Alvyn Karffard to the working model of whatever it was he had left unfinished when the Nemesis had emerged at the end of the jump from Audhumla.

Trask went to the index of the ship’s library and punched for History, Old Terran. There was plenty of that, thanks to Otto Harkaman. Then he punched for Hitler, Adolf. Harkaman was right; anything that could happen in a human society had already happened, in one form or another, somewhere and at some time. Hitler could help him understand Zaspar Makann.

By the time the ship came out, with the yellow sun of Tanith in the middle of the screen, he knew a great deal about Hitler, occasionally referred to as Schicklgruber, and he understood, with sorrow, how the lights of civilization on Marduk were going out.

Beside the Lamia, stripped of her Dillinghams and crammed with heavy armament and detection instruments, the Space Scourge and the Queen Flavia were on off-planet watch. There were half a dozen other ships on orbit just above atmosphere; a Gilgamesher, one of the Gram-Tanith freighters, a couple of free-lance Space Vikings, and a new and unfamiliar ship. When he asked the moonbase who she was, he was told that she was the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu. That was, by almost a year, better than he had expected of them. Otto Harkaman was out in the Corisande, raiding and visiting the trade-planets.

He found his cousin, Nikkolay Trask, at Rivington; when he inquired about Traskon, Nikkolay cursed.

“I don’t know anything about Traskon; I haven’t anything to do with Traskon, any more. Traskon is now the personal property of our well loved--very well loved--Queen Evita. The Trasks don’t own enough land on Gram now for a family cemetery. You see what you did?” he added bitterly.

“You needn’t rub it in, Nikkolay. If I’d stayed on Gram, I’d have helped put Angus on the throne, and it would have been about the same in the end.”

“It could be a lot different,” Nikkolay said. “You could bring your ships and men back to Gram and put yourself on the throne.”

“No; I’ll never go back to Gram. Tanith’s my planet, now. But I will renounce my allegiance to Angus. I can trade on Morglay or Joyeuse or Flamberge just as easily.”

“You won’t have to; you can trade with Newhaven and Bigglersport. Count Lionel and Duke Joris are both defying Angus; they’ve refused to furnish him men, they’ve driven out his tax collectors, those they haven’t hanged, and they’re building ships of their own. Angus is building ships, too. I don’t know whether he’s going to use them to fight Bigglersport and Newhaven, or attack you, but there’s going to be a war before another year’s out.”

The Goodhope and the Speedwell, he found, had gone back to Gram. They were commanded by men who had come into favor at the court of King Angus recently. The Black Star and the Queen Flavia--whose captain had contemptuously ignored an order from Gram to re-christen her Queen Evita--had remained. They were his ships, not King Angus’. The captain of the merchantman from Wardshaven now on orbit refused to take a cargo to Newhaven; he had been chartered by King Angus, and would take orders from no one else.

“All right,” Trask told him. “This is your last voyage here. You bring that ship back under Angus of Wardshaven’s charter and we’ll fire on her.”

Then he had the regalia he had worn in his last audiovisual to Angus dusted off. At first, he had decided to proclaim himself King of Tanith. Lord Valpry, Baron Rathmore and his cousin all advised against it.

“Just call yourself Prince of Tanith,” Valpry said. “The title won’t make any difference in your authority here, and if you do lay claim to the throne of Gram, nobody can say you’re a foreign king trying to annex the planet.”

He had no intention of doing anything of the kind, but Valpry was quite in earnest.

So he sat on his throne, as sovereign Prince of Tanith, and renounced his allegiance to “Angus, Duke of Wardshaven, self-styled King of Gram.” They sent it back on the otherwise empty freighter. Another copy went to the Count of Newhaven, along with a cargo in the Sun Goddess, the first non-Space-Viking ship into Gram from the Old Federation.

Seven hundred and fifty hours after the return of the Nemesis, the Corisande II emerged from her last microjump, and immediately Harkaman began hearing of the Battle of Audhumla and the destruction of the Yo-Yo and the Enterprise. At first, he merely reported a successful raiding voyage, from which he was bringing rich booty. Oddly varigated booty, it was remarked, when he began itemizing it.

“Why, yes,” he replied. “Secondhand booty. I raided Dagon for it.”

Dagon was a Space Viking base planet, occupied by a character named Fedrig Barragon. A number of ships operated from it, including a couple commanded by Barragon’s half-breed sons.

“Barragon’s ships were raiding one of our planets,” Harkaman said. “Ganpat. They looted a couple of cities, destroyed one, killed a lot of the locals. I found out about it from Captain Ravallo of the Black Star, on Indra; he’d just been from Ganpat. Beowulf wasn’t too far out of the way, so we put in there, and found the Grendelsbane just ready to space out.” The Grendelsbane was the second of Beowulf’s ships, sister to the Viking’s Gift. “So she joined us, and the three of us went to Dagon. We blew up one of Barragon’s ships, and put the other one down out of commission, and then we sacked his base. There was a Gilgamesher colony there; we didn’t bother them. They’ll tell what we did, and why.”

“That should furnish Prince Viktor of Xochitl something to ponder,” Trask said. “Where are the other ships, now?”

“The Grendelsbane went back to Beowulf; she’ll stop at Amaterasu to do a little trading on the way. The Black Star went to Xochitl. Just a friendly visit, to say hello to Prince Viktor for you. Ravallo has a lot of audiovisuals we made during the Dagon Operation. Then she’s going to Jagannath to visit Nikky Gratham.”

Harkaman approved his attitude and actions with regard to King Angus.

“We don’t need to do business with the Sword-Worlds at all. We have our own industries, we can produce what we need, and we can trade with Beowulf and Amaterasu, and with Xochitl and Jagannath and Hoth, if we can make any sort of agreement with them; everybody agrees to let everybody else’s trade-planets alone. It’s too bad you couldn’t get some kind of an agreement with Marduk.” Harkaman regretted that for a few seconds, and then shrugged. “Our grandchildren, if any, will probably be raiding Marduk.”

“You think it’ll be like that?”

“Don’t you? You were there; you saw what’s happening. The barbarians are rising; they have a leader, and they’re uniting. Every society rests on a barbarian base. The people who don’t understand civilization, and wouldn’t like it if they did. The hitchhikers. The people who create nothing, and who don’t appreciate what others have created for them, and who think civilization is something that just exists and that all they need to do is enjoy what they can understand of it--luxuries, a high living standard, and easy work for high pay. Responsibilities? Phooey! What do they have a government for?”

Trask nodded. “And now, the hitchhikers think they know more about the car than the people who designed it, so they’re going to grab the controls. Zaspar Makann says they can, and he’s the Leader.” He poured a drink from a decanter that had been looted on Pushan; there was a planet where a republic had been overthrown in favor of a dictatorship four centuries ago, and the planetary dictatorship had fissioned into a dozen regional dictatorships, and now they were down to the peasant-village and handcraft-industry level. “I don’t understand it, though. I was reading about Hitler, on the way home. I wouldn’t be surprised if Zaspar Makann had been reading about Hitler, too. He’s using all Hitler’s tricks. But Hitler came to power in a country which had been impoverished by a military defeat. Marduk hasn’t fought a war in almost two generations, and that one was a farce.”

“It wasn’t the war that put Hitler into power. It was the fact that the ruling class of his nation, the people who kept things running, were discredited. The masses, the homemade barbarians, didn’t have anybody to take their responsibilities for them. What they have on Marduk is a ruling class that has been discrediting itself. A ruling class that’s ashamed of its privileges and shirks its duties. A ruling class that has begun to believe that the masses are just as good as they are, which they manifestly are not. And a ruling class that won’t use force to maintain its position. And they have a democracy, and they are letting the enemies of democracy shelter themselves behind democratic safeguards.”

“We don’t have any of this democracy in the Sword-Worlds, if that’s the word for it,” he said. “And our ruling class aren’t ashamed of their power, and our people aren’t hitchhikers, and as long as they get decent treatment they don’t try to run things. And we’re not doing so well.”

The Morglay dynastic war of a couple of centuries ago, still sputtering and smoking. The Oskarsan-Elmersan War on Durendal, into which Flamberge and now Joyeuse had intruded. And the situation on Gram, fast approaching critical mass. Harkaman nodded agreement.

“You know why? Our rulers are the barbarians among us. There isn’t one of them--Napolyon of Flamberge, Rodolf of Excalibur, or Angus of about half of Gram--who is devoted to civilization or anything else outside himself, and that’s the mark of the barbarian.”