Chapter 16 MERCURY

 

 

For the first time since I had known her, I saw Forta apprehensive. It required no great exercise of insight to know why. We were coming to Mercury, her planet of origin, where she had been a foundling. Mercury had been colonized by the nations of the southern part of Africa, and the one we would be primarily dealing with regarded her as a mixed-breed creature of inferior status. Strict segregation laws would have prevented my keeping company with her here, were I not protected by diplomatic immunity, and were I not the Tyrant. Nonetheless, it would have to be made clear that Forta was my servant, under my authority and protection, and Spirit would have to handle all communications with officials.

I talked with Doppie. “I realize that you are on loan to us only to facilitate our travels between planets,” I said. “But in this case, I would appreciate it if you would do me a greater favor.”

She looked at me uncertainly. Like all woman of any age with whom I associate closely, she was somewhat taken with me; it is a power I have. Part of it may be the sheer notoriety inherent in my identity as Tyrant, and part my ability to read and relate to people. I disliked having to use her in this manner, but I saw no expedient alternative.

“You see, my secretary is what is known on Mercury as a mulattress: a female of mixed ancestry. The government will not accord her any status. It is true that she can emulate my sister-but if she is caught, there will be ugly complications. It will be better if she remains herself, and if you remain my sister, instead of going to the embassy. I would be most appreciative if-“

“Certainly, Tyrant,” she said immediately. She wanted my gratitude. She was not aware that Forta was more than my secretary and nurse, though she did know about her ability to emulate others. Who could tell where the gratitude of the Tyrant might lead?

“Thank you, Doppie,” I said, laying my hand on hers. As I said, I was using her, and I regretted it, but I would see that she was rewarded. I went on to explain that we might have to leave her with Smilo, but that he represented no menace to her. I had introduced her to him at the outset, and he had accepted her. In fact, he would protect her from any molestation by others.

The sun seemed monstrous here, more than twice the diameter as seen from Earth, and its radiation was ferocious. Our ship was suitably shielded, of course, but even the muted image on the screen was daunting. I felt hot, though the temperature within the ship was standard. I was afraid that some errant flame would lick out from that massive sphere and fry us without noticing. It was another kind of phobia; I seemed to be more subject to these in my infirmity.

Mercury was about the diameter of my home world, Callisto, but its density was triple, so it was a far more massive body. It had very little atmosphere, and took almost two months to rotate. Its surface was cratered like that of any barren body. In short, it seemed basically familiar to me. That helped, because I wanted to get onto land and out of the ambience of the huge sun.

We needed Mercury in the project because it was one of the richest sources of rare metals and crystals in the System. Gold, platinum, chromium, uranium, copper, manganese, diamonds, and of course iron-it was potentially as rich as Mars, but the difficulties of sunside mining inhibited operations. We had secured our iron requirements, but still had need of the others, and this planet could represent an enormous boost in our supply of raw materials. But the government of the Republic of South Mercury was notoriously tough, and I knew that negotiations would be difficult. As Tyrant of Jupiter I had not gotten along with Mercury well, for it exploited its majorities shamefully for the benefit of the minority, and there was chronic hunger and even starvation in many of its nations. There was little reason to suppose relations would be better now that I was out of power.

Of course I had power now; it just happened to be less direct. I suspected I would have to invoke it all too soon. I sent a coded message to Khukov, back on Saturn, alerting him; he could still pull the plug on this one if he chose. But he let it ride.

We put our ship in the assigned parking orbit, and a Mercury shuttle took the four of us down to the surface. We landed near the South Pole, at Cape Dome, one of the capitals. The advantage of this site was that the polar regions suffered neither the intensity of the month-long day nor the appalling cold of the month-long night; here it was always compromise. Not that the natives chose to gaze out upon the barren surface; the savings were mostly in terms of maintenance and access.

Inside, the city was much like any other, and I felt better immediately. But my tension about the physical environment was replaced by psychological tension. Though there was no direct allusion, it was evident by the signals that the authorities here resented the presence of Forta, and would gladly have relegated her to one of the segregated subsidiary domes.

But I was a foreign dignitary, and she was my secretary, and they could not impose their sanctions on her without suffering an interplanetary incident.

We reached our accommodations and proceeded promptly to my dialysis; this preliminary settling-in period was the best time for it, so that I could not be caught short later. While I rested I wondered what form Forta would assume this time. For I knew she felt more comfortable in a guise, despite my assurance that I now accepted her for herself. She was a mimic, a mime, and she was astonishingly good at it, and I would not deny her the pleasure of proving it as often as she chose.

But I fell asleep, and slept the night, so missed whatever it might have been, to my retrospective regret. For in the morning I had the first official meeting with the representative of South Mercury, which it seemed had to be personal, not holo. How the old ways linger, even in this modern age!

Doppie, as Spirit, accompanied me, leaving Forta to keep Smilo company. Doppie kept silent, letting me do all the negotiation. Though the Mercurians knew that my sister was the power behind my throne, they were happy to have her assume a subservient role for this official function.

After due formalities, we got down to business. “The Triton Project needs the resources of Mercury,” I said. “We are uncertain of the structural stresses entailed in materialization and travel elsewhere in the galaxy. We intend to construct the first colonization ships to the most rigid specifications. For this we require diamonds, chrome, platinum-in fact, almost the full spectrum of the products you export. We are prepared to pay in System monetary units and in a favorable allotment for your own colonization of other stars. I am here to make the offer and an agreement.”

“South Mercury should be interested in your proposal,” the man said carefully. “However, there are certain considerations.”

Oh-oh. I had thought I was past the worst when I left Mars; now, as I read his body, I realized that there was trouble here. “Considerations?” I asked guardedly, hoping that he was not going to raise the issue I feared.

“Your project, as we understand it, is sponsored jointly by Saturn and Uranus.”

“True, with Rising Sun and Titania as major cosponsors.”

“Some of these planets are known for a certain position on social integration.”

He had raised the issue. How much easier it would have been had his government elected to yield to economic benefit and set aside its racial policy! “You refer to their objection to apartheid,” I said, reading the confirmation as I spoke.

“In past times, such planets have attempted to base economic decisions on social criteria,” he said grimly. “We regard this as improper. We do not attempt to dictate to Saturn how it handles its Phobos question.” He meant

Saturn’s oppression of those of Jewish background, preventing them from emigrating to Phobos. He had a point. “Or to Uranus how it handles its Mars question.” Nations of Uranus, notably Prussia, had imported many workers from Mars, and then expelled them when their economies weakened. Another point. “We fail to appreciate why these planets should be concerned with our internal affairs.”

“I am from Jupiter,” I said cautiously. “I have no part of the social problems of other planets, and do not seek to meddle in them. I seek only to establish mutually beneficial trade relations.”

“The society of Jupiter became remarkably egalitarian during the Tyrancy,” he said. “It is so no more. Perhaps you should return to that planet.”

I was getting news from all over about the deteriorating state of Jupiter society! “Perhaps I should,” I agreed. “But first I must complete my mission here. The Triton Project will be in a superior bargaining position for negotiations with Jupiter if the resources of Mercury are available to it.”

“Mercury will be happy to join the worthy effort of galactic colonization,” he said. “Provided it is arranged on a businesslike basis, without irrelevant issues.”

I had to concede the merit of his case. I had no brief for this nation’s treatment of its citizens of mixed blood, who were given no part in their government, but it was true that my mission related to trade, not morality. But two things interfered. First, I knew that neither Saturn nor Uranus would reverse its prior objections to the social system of South Mercury. Second, I realized, through my continued reading of this man, that he was lying. Mercury did not want to join the Triton Project. This stunned me, leaving me at a loss for words.

South Mercury was in fact using the apartheid issue as a pretext for its denial of an agreement it had no intention of making. But why? The deal I proffered would be of enormous economic benefit to this planet, which was chronically starving for cash, and many of whose residents were literally starving too. The sanctions established by other planets had damaged the economy of South

Mercury severely. This offer of mine could at one stroke restore this planet’s economic health. The amelioration of apartheid, just enough to make it acceptable to Saturn and Uranus, who did want the stone and metal riches of this planet, would be a tiny price to pay for the benefit received. I knew that the government understood this. Why, then, was it uninterested?

“You baffle me,” I said frankly. “Why don’t you want to join?”

“I did not say that.”

“You’re talking to the Tyrant!” I snapped. “I know when you are lying. Your government doesn’t want to make any deal; the social issue is merely a pretext.”

He nodded. “So it is true; you do read people.”

“It is true. Now answer my question.”

He glanced to the side, evidently seeking advice. In a holo encounter this would have been easy, but this personal meeting meant that there were no advisers to the side. “I regret I am not authorized to-“

“And why did you insist on a personal meeting, instead of a holo, when you had no intention of dealing?” I demanded.

He just looked at me, unable to respond because he was not authorized to tell the truth, knowing that I would immediately recognize a lie.

“What the hell are you up to?” I demanded.

He did not reply, but I read him anyway: They were indeed up to something.

“The Tyrant is not accustomed to treatment like this!” I said, some genuine anger developing.

“Perhaps it would be better if you departed the planet promptly,” he said. Now he was telling the truth.

But the Triton Project really did need the resources of Mercury, if the colonization effort were not to be severely restricted. Most of the System’s reserves of chromium were on Mercury, for example, and this was vital for high-grade steel. I had hoped to deal amicably, but if that proved to be impossible, I still had to deal. “Not without an understanding,” I said.

He did not answer. In a huff, I departed, virtually towing Spirit behind me. I was angry, but more than that I was afraid. Something was wrong here, and I could not fathom what it was, and knew that I had better do so promptly.

We made our way back to our suite-and found disaster. Smilo was unconscious, and Forta was gone. Evidently the suite had been flooded with some kind of gas and my secretary abducted during my absence.

Now part of it became clear: why they had insisted on a personal interview. They had wanted to get me away from the suite. That was what their representative had not been permitted to tell me. His job had been simply to occupy me long enough to enable them to do their dirty work. He had succeeded.

Were age and frailty causing me to lose my grip on the realities of politics? I had never suspected the trap! That bothered me almost as much as the trap itself.

But almost immediately the more sober aspects of my situation claimed my attention. Without Forta, I could not dialyze; only she knew the procedures. If I tried it alone, I could botch it, and that could be fatal. Doppie had no expertise here; I could explain the essentials to her, but it would be awkward and chancy business. Dialysis is not a casual thing. My effective time here was now limited to two or three days; thereafter I would be on a descending spiral of oblivion as I was poisoned by my own internal wastes. Had Mercury planned on this?

No, the dialysis unit was untouched; it was unlikely that the intruders had even recognized its nature. They had struck with surgical expertise, taking only the thing they had come for: Forta. The predicament this put me in was coincidental.

Forta. Why had they wanted her? Because they were so angry that one of mixed blood should be housed in a Saxon residence? But it would have made no sense to aggravate the Tyrant that way, especially when completion of the deal would have brought departure anyway.

Forta was from this planet. Amnesty Interplanetary had rescued her from torture and probably death at the hands of this repressive regime. Had they bided their time, waiting for her to return so they could revenge themselves on her for her crime of surviving? Because one look at her face betrayed the nature of this government more explicitly than any words could have? Again, this seemed unlikely; I doubted they had even kept a record of her. Probably hundreds of babies had been tortured, and one more made no difference. Once she was gone, they would have ignored her, or perhaps even been satisfied to have her represent a lesson for others of mixed blood who might think of coming to this planet.

What, then? I had discovered that South Mercury did not want to deal. Could this be related?

There it was! They knew I would be hard to dissuade, so they had added this fillip of persuasion. If I departed the planet promptly, mission incomplete, I could have my secretary back. She was hostage to my decision.

Black rage overcame me. I may have faded out for a moment, for I found Doppie sponging off my face. “Are you all right, sir?” she asked. “I think you fainted.”

“Yes, thank you, Spirit,” I agreed, reminding her that she had a role to play. The suite was surely bugged. “You see to Smilo; I have a call to make.”

She went to tend to the tiger, and I made my call. It was to the official government number.

“Have you killed her?” I rasped as the bland face appeared in the air before me.

Evidently my call had been expected. “By no means, Tyrant,” the man said. “She is merely being detained for clarification of her status. It seems that she went out without the proper identification, and was picked up-“

Forta had not gone out; I hardly needed to read the man to know that lie. She had been abducted from the suite. They knew I knew that; that was not the point.

“Show me that she is safe,” I said.

“Why, certainly, sir,” he agreed. “This is merely a formality.”

The formality of forcing me to depart the planet in a hurry. They either knew or suspected that Forta was my lover. That was surely another sore point with them: fraternization between races. In a moment the picture of Forta formed. She was in a prison cell, alone, seeming dazed but unhurt. “Forta,” I said.

She glanced up. “Sir,” she said. She never got a role confused; she was my secretary now.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Temporary detention center,” she said. “I-it seems I should not have gone out-“

“An understandable error,” I said. Obviously she understood what must not be said.

“I’m sure it will be cleared up soon,” she said. “But, sir-if you would do me the kindness of bringing me my purse?”

“I shall,” I said.

Her image faded, to be replaced by that of the official. “Visiting is permitted?” I inquired curtly.

“Naturally, Tyrant. We are a civilized planet. It will only take a day or so for her papers to be corrected. You will have time to arrange for your transportation out, and should be able to pick her up at the time you depart.”

Uh-huh. “But I will bring her her purse now. Please provide me with the address.”

“Tyrant, we shall be happy to transport you there.” Oh, they were the soul of overt courtesy, knowing that they had me by the private hairs.

I nodded curtly. “In five minutes,” I said.

Then I checked for Forta’s purse, which rested beside her bed. I knew it had her special makeup in it, and two masks, and two wigs. She was able to emulate either Spirit or myself on short notice. The equipment was nonme-tallic and would not alert the detection beams of the prison. I took the purse and rejoined Doppie.

“Spirit, I hope Smilo can survive without our company for a while longer,” I said. “We must visit my secretary, and deliver her purse to her. I realize you are upset, but please say nothing until we return.”

Doppie nodded, having no idea what I was up to, but ready to play her part. She was, as I have said, a good woman.

I took her arm, and we exited the suite. An escort was awaiting us. He conducted us to a vehicle, and we rode to the detention center. It was an imposing structure of stone; this was one resource Mercury had in quantity.

We were permitted to enter the cell with Forta, and to talk with her privately. The government of South Mercury was making a show of accommodation, but the point was clear: my secretary would remain a prisoner until I left the planet. They had cobbled together a legal rationale for this that I could not disprove with the resources at my disposal. They would let Spirit and me out, but not Forta; I could not change that. This was the convention of this sort of thing; the reality was that my secretary was as much captive as if chained naked to a rock in a deep tomb.

But I was not exactly helpless. I had formulated my plan on the way, and knew that Forta understood. She had, after all, been my secretary for three years, and knew how to study people so as to emulate them; she was familiar with the way my mind worked. I hoped she grasped enough to follow all the way through.

I took her in my arms and kissed her. I knew there would be a camera on us, and we had to get out of its coverage. The authorities might assume that I was simply trying to aggravate them by this gesture. “Where?” I whispered in her ear as we embraced.

She made a tiny indication with her head toward a rear upper corner. I saw no lens, but of course it was concealed. Now I could judge the manner of its coverage. It would have a gap in the corner immediately below it. Of course it was intended mainly to detect escape attempts, and it would cover the entire front region of the cell.

“Your purse,” I said, handing it to her. Then I turned my head and addressed Doppie, who was standing somewhat awkwardly behind us. “I have private business with my secretary; will you watch for intrusions?”

Doppie, obviously embarrassed, turned to face the front of the cell, her body partially shielding us from observation from the front. Of course that was not where the real spying occurred, so the authorities did not intervene; whoever was on the camera figured that I wanted to do some intimate handling, and that did not matter. The more intimate my relation with Forta, the better hostage she made; if I wanted her enough to make love to her right in the cell with my sister present, I would never let her be stranded on Mercury. So they were happy to allow me to proceed; no one would bother us from the front.

We stood in the corner, our heads near the pickup lens. The ceiling of the cell was not high, for though space in planetary domes was not at the premium it was in city-bubbles, neither was it plentiful. I positioned myself so that my head blocked virtually the entire field of its vision, and Forta positioned herself so that Doppie’s body cut off most of the view from the front. Then, silently, quickly, efficiently, we stripped our clothing. Because I could not bend down, lest my head move clear of the lens, Forta helped me. Without hesitation she put her clothing on me, and mine on herself. I was taller than she, but not by a great amount, and her clothing was highly adjustable; she made it fit me handily. In a very short time the exchange was complete.

Then, facing me and standing close, she donned the Hope mask and the Hope wig, fitting them together with her special expertise. She took her makeup stick and worked on my face, drawing scar tissue. She gave me back the purse. Last, she drew down my head, below the level of the lens, and set a wig on my head; then we turned about and straightened up so that now the back of her head, which resembled mine, was blocking the lens. This maneuver would be taken for some sort of body kiss occurring just out of camera range. Even such evidence of our dishabille as showed peripherally would be taken for our desperate love scene.

We separated. Forta seemed to have inserted wedges in my shoes, for now she stood almost as tall as I, and of course I hunched down to lessen my height. “We’ll clear this up soon enough,” Forta said in my voice. It was like seeing a holo recording of myself; her emulation was perfect.

She led the way to the gate, and Doppie followed, seeming relieved that our sordid tryst was done. Doppie herself did not know what we had accomplished; she would find out in due course. That was part of the beauty of this maneuver: If Doppie didn’t suspect the exchange, no one else would.

I watched them go. Then I sat on the prison bunk, staring disconsolately at the floor. All I had to do was maintain the ruse long enough to let them get back to the suite. Then, God willing, hell would break loose.

After a time I got up and went to the toilet cubicle of the cell. I didn’t think anything could be seen here, but I played it safe, sitting down to urinate, hiding my penis, using tissue to wipe myself though I didn’t need it. If the prisoner had just made love standing up in the cell, she would need to clean up now, so I took the time required.

Time-that was all we needed. Time and nerve. I hoped that Forta had the savvy to play it correctly. She would have to assume the role of Spirit for this, which would put Doppie in an awkward position; Doppie would have to become Forta, and she might not like that. But, correctly played, this would win all the marbles.

I returned to the bunk, lay down, and slept. Evidently my appearance had passed inspection; there had been no commotion. I would need my rest for the scene to come; meanwhile I wanted to be as much like Forta as I could. I found it intriguing to be playing the role of the role-player instead of watching her or having sex with her.

When I deemed the time to be propitious, I retired to the sanitary cubicle and methodically stripped my costume. I washed the scars off my face, tore up my wig, and flushed it down the toilet. Then I did the same for my dress and underwear. The shoes were harder, but I finally managed to separate them into components and flush them also. How fortunate that Mercury, being a planet, insisted on showing off by using water facilities, even though it had to be expensive mining the extra water. Naked and masculine, I sat on the pot and waited.

I was right: the process of hell breaking loose was audible in the distance, and then in close. Men charged into my cell. I stepped out to meet them, naked. “Are you going to beat me now?” I inquired. “That’s the next stage, isn’t it?”

The men gaped. I fancied I could almost see the officials on the other end of the lens pickup doing the same. They had thought they had a woman hostage, and suddenly here was the Tyrant! There was no news crew, for the press was controlled here, but it would be next to impossible for them to suppress this news!

Indeed, Forta gave them no chance to do that. In a moment a holo formed, Spirit’s face in it. “Oh, Hope!” she exclaimed for what I knew were cameras. “I knew it! They’ve humiliated you! They’ve stripped you naked!”

The man in charge managed to stifle his gasp. “Get the prisoner some clothes,” he said, and an underling took off. At least I think that’s what he said; he spoke in Afrikaans, and there was no translator handy.

“And they’ve tortured you!” Forta cried with horror, still in the role of my distraught sister. “Your legs-all scarred and bandaged!”

The scars were from prior loop-sites, and the bandage concealed the present loop. But who would believe that at this moment, when my kidney ailment was not even known? “Just get me out of here, Spirit,” I said urgently.

The face of a higher government official appeared, evidently overriding the prior transmissions. “We are being framed!” he exclaimed in English. “We never touched the Tyrant!”

Spirit’s visage reappeared. “Then how is my brother locked in your cell, naked and scarred?” she demanded half hysterically. And without giving him a chance to formulate a reply, she continued: “You meant to force him to do your will, didn’t you! To endorse apartheid! But he resisted your torture, and now I’ve found him, and I demand you free him instantly!”

“But we never-“ the official protested, obviously at a loss in this abrupt and astonishing turn of events.

“So you refuse!” she said indignantly. “Well, my brother is here as the representative of the Union of Saturnine Republics, and we consider this to be an act of war.” Her head turned as she addressed an offscreen party. “Saturn Commander, what is your authority?”

Now the head of a Saturn Navy marshal appeared. “My fleet is at the disposal of the Tyrant, Hope Hubris.” He faced me, and I read in him a certain grim humor. Evidently he had been properly briefed, and knew the nature of this ploy, and enjoyed it. Saturn never had had much liking for Mercury, and navies of any stripe enjoy the flexing of muscle. “Sir, what are your orders?”

“All I want is a pair of trousers and a fair-trade agreement,” I said innocently. “I never thought I’d find myself like this!” Indeed, not until Forta had been abducted.

“We never-“ the Mercury official cried, but was unable to continue, being overwhelmed by the preposterous situation.

I had intended only to reverse the ploy on Mercury, giving this planet a taste of the Tyrant’s medicine in response to its attempt to coerce me. Now it occurred to me that I had opportunity to do more than that. The government would never accede to the trade agreement after this embarrassment, even if it had been willing before, which it had not been. Suddenly I realized why it had balked: It was not merely the problem of apartheid, it was power itself. If Mercury participated in the Triton Project, there would be plenty of room and resources for everyone, whites and blacks and all the shades between. There would be no way for the present regime to control those others. So it preferred to remain restricted, and in charge. It would never yield power voluntarily, or allow a situation to develop that forced the eventual yielding of that power. This government was a loss to me; it would never deal.

Accepting that, I had two choices: use my leverage to free myself and Forta and depart the planet, mission failed-or draw on the power of the Saturn Navy to overthrow the present government and install one that would participate. It would be a major move, of questionable ethics-but Mercury had started this quarrel. It was evident that Forta and the Saturn authorities had analyzed this similarly. That was why the marshal was placing himself under my command; that would make it a takeover by the Tyrant, not Saturn, and that would be far more palatable politically to the remainder of the System.

“Sir?” the marshal inquired, prompting me. I remembered how my onetime wife Emerald had done that, when the Jupiter Navy backed my takeover of the government of the United States of North Jupiter.

“I seem to have no choice,” I said with staged regret.

“I must assume power in South Mercury. Orient on the major cities, and destroy them if I die.”

“Understood, Tyrant,” the marshal said with ill-concealed relish.

In this manner I came to be the Tyrant of Mercury. It was no bluff; several Saturn battleships had been projected to this region, so that this military presence had developed virtually without warning, giving Mercury no chance to maneuver. The force was overwhelming; Saturn was, after all, a major planet, and Mercury a minor one. There was some resistance, and a military complex was destroyed, but once the nature of this trap was clear, the officials of the former government of South Mercury pleaded for sanctuary under the auspices of the Tyrant. Otherwise the huge nonwhite majority would have risen up and slaughtered them all. Only my benign presence maintained order.

We had to bring in executives from other planets to establish the new government, as the people did not trust the former officials, and this was complicated and time-consuming. But in a few months we had a viable administration that extended around the entire planet; it was amazing how cooperative the other nations of Mercury became when they appreciated the reforms we were instituting at the south, and the eagerness of the Saturn warships to test their formidable weapons. I don’t want to pretend that this was not a military conquest, but it was as bloodless a takeover as was feasible. We now had access to the mineral resources of the planet, and the majority of the people were better off than they had been. In due course I was able to appoint a President of Mercury to run the government; he was a popular Black native we had freed from prison, educated but unversed in government. That didn’t matter; we equipped him with a competent staff of advisers and administrators, so that he could operate as I did: being a popular figurehead who nevertheless got the job done. Programs were instituted to eliminate the hunger and homelessness that were rampant across much of the planet, and to improve the lot of the common workers. Human rights had come to Mercury.

Meanwhile, I had Forta. She had played the role of Spirit beautifully, while Doppie had stayed out of sight Without Forta’s ability to emulate not only the aspect of my sister but her mode of operation, we could never have brought this off. My respect for her was enhanced  and when I made love to her now it was never with a mask Beauty is as beauty does, and she was beautiful  A significant part of my motivation to help the ordinary folk of the planet was that I knew how much that would please her.