Bhelabher stared at him in surprise. Then he smiled sheepishly. “Indeed it’s not. Yes, the Exchequer was the LORD who came to call on me. And his argument was very persuasive—very persuasive, indeed! And once he had me believing that the outlying planets should be cut off and left to their own devices, he arranged my appointment as governor.”
“So … that’s … why!” Then another sudden hunch hit, and Dar frowned. “You wouldn’t be telling me this if you didn’t think I could do something about it.”
“I don’t know if you can or not,” Bhelabher said earnestly, “but you must try. It isn’t easy to gain an appointment with the Secretary-General, young man, but if you can, you must tell him that Electors Boundbridge and Satrap are leaguing with General Forcemain to attempt a coup d’etat. Can you remember those names?”
“Boundbridge, Satrap, and Forcemain.” Dar nodded, repeating them silently in his head, getting the meter down. “Boundbridge, Satrap, and Forcemain … yeah, I’ll remember. But this is the top man in all of human civilization we’re talking about, Honorable. He’s not going to believe the ordinary young punk off the street without some pretty powerful evidence!”
“He shall have it.” Bhelabher pressed a slip of paper into Dar’s hand. “Memorize that set of numbers, young man, and when you’ve done so, burn the paper. The Secretary-General has only to put them into the nearest computer terminal, and the screen will display an excellent little collection of documents, complete with signatures.”
Dar stared at the slip of paper. “But … but how did you …?”
“Find them?” Bhelabher smiled. “I do give myself some credit, young man; and I know that I am an expert on data storage and retrieval. When I’d spoken with Minister Boundbridge, I was thoroughly convinced; but my bureaucrat’s instincts still functioned, almost by themselves. I was determined to aid the LORDS’ coup; but I was also determined that I would not be made a scapegoat if anything went wrong.”
Dar’s eyes widened. “My lord! Is human trust that far gone on Terra?”
Bhelabher waved the objection away, irritated. “It has been for centuries, young man—probably ever since the Chinese invented bureaucracy. One of the first rules you learn in an office is, ‘Get the directive in writing—and keep a copy.’ And if I knew that, certainly Satrap and Forcemain did, too, plus whomever else was involved in the conspiracy. I knew they’d each have saved their own bits of evidence.”
“But how could you find it?”
Bhelabher smiled, preening. “People don’t hide things in chests with false bottoms, or secret rooms, anymore, young man. They hide them in computers, with secret activation codes. But whatever code one man can think up, another can deduce—especially if he has his own computer to do the donkey-work of searching. I am an expert, after all—and I did have some time.”
Dar stared. “You mean you actually managed to break each of their personal codes?”
“Only Satrap’s and Boundbridge’s; General Forcemain held his inside the military computer, which is somewhat better protected against even expert pilfering. But the Electors’ dossiers sufficed—especially since they directed me to several others. No, young man, that code I’ve given you will reveal enough documented evidence to convince even the Secretary-General.”
The slip of paper suddenly seemed to burn Dar’s fingers. He held onto it resolutely, the numbers fairly searing his retinas. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll have any trouble remembering these numbers now, Honorable.”
“Stout fellow!” Bhelabher clasped his arm and pumped his hand. “I’ll be eternally indebted to you—and so will quadrillions of other persons, most of whom have not even been born yet!”
“I’ll collect when they’ve grown, and the interest has, too.” Dar forced a smile. “Don’t worry, Honorable—I’ll do my best.”
“More than that, no man can ask.” Bhelabher looked up. “Except possibly your commander; I see he wants another word with you.” He stepped aside, and Shacklar stepped up. “It’s about time to depart, Ardnam.”
A high-pitched whine hit their ears as the ferry’s coolant pumps started up. Sam pushed her way through the door and strode over to the small ship.
“Allow me to escort you,” Shacklar murmured, taking Dar by the elbow and steering him out the door.
Once outside, he raised his voice to be heard over the beginning rumbles of superheated steam. “You do realize the importance of the mission you’re undertaking?”
“Yeah, to make sure BOA leaves us alone,” Dar called back. “Uh, General …”
Shacklar gave him an inquiring blink.
“The Honorable just told me about a coup the LORDS’re planning, back on Terra. Think I should take him seriously?”
“Oh, very seriously. I’ve been sure it would happen for quite some time now.”
Dar whirled to stare to him, appalled. “You knew?”
“Well, not ‘knew,’ really. I can’t tell you the date of its beginning, nor who will be behind it—but I do see the general shape of it. Any man who’s read a bit of history can see it coming. On the inner worlds, it’s all about you, the signs of a dying democracy. I’d been watching it happen for twenty years, before I came out here.”
“And that’s why you came out here?”
Shacklar nodded, pleased. “You’re perceptive, young fellow. Yes. If democracy is doomed on the interstellar scale, it can at least be kept alive on individual planets.”
“Especially one that’s far enough away from Terra so that whatever dictatorship replaces the I.D.E. will just forget about it,” Dar inferred.
Shacklar nodded again. “Because it’s too costly to maintain communication with it. Yes. By the end of the century, I expect we’ll be left quite thoroughly to our own devices.”
“Not a pleasant picture,” Dar said, brooding, “but better than being ruled by a dictator on Terra. So what should I do about it?”
“Do?” Shacklar repeated, surprised. “Why, there’s nothing you can do, really—except to make the quixotic gesture: inform the media, if you like, or the Secretary-General, or something of the sort.”
“You can’t mean it,” Dar said, shocked. “We can’t let democracy go down without a fight!”
“But it already has gone down, don’t you see? And all you can gain by a dramatic flourish is, perhaps, another decade or so of life for the forms of it—the Assembly, and the Cabinet, and so forth. But that won’t change the reality—that the frontier worlds have already begun to govern themselves, and that Terra and the other Central Worlds are already living under a dictatorship, for all practical purposes. Ask anyone who’s lived there, if you doubt me.”
Dar thought of Sam’s disgust and despair, and saw Shacklar’s point. “Are you saying democracy isn’t worth fighting for?”
“Not at all—but I am saying that all such fighting will get you is a lifelong prison sentence in a real, Terrestrial prison, perhaps for a very short life. The press of social forces is simply too great for anyone to stop. If you really want to do something, try to change those social forces.”
Dar frowned. “How can you do that?”
Shacklar shrugged. “Invent faster-than-light radio, or a way of educating the vast majority to skepticism and inquiring thought—but don’t expect to see the effects of it within your lifetime. You can start it—but it’ll take a century or two before it begins to have an effect.”
“Well, that’s great for my grandchildren—but what do I do about the rest of my life?”
Shacklar sighed. “Try to find a nice, quiet little out-of-the-way planet that the new dictators are apt to overlook, and do your best to make it a pocket of freedom for the next few centuries, and live out your life there in whatever tranquility you can manage.”
“Which is what you’ve done,” Dar said softly.
Shacklar flashed him a smile. “Well, it’s still in process, of course.”