Empire of Two Worlds

“Of course, he’ll probably make it something slower. It’s traditional.” Bec meaningfully scratched his side where the pincers had bitten into his flesh.

I didn’t speak for a long moment. “Let it go, Bec,” I said eventually. “Do me a favour. Leave things as they are.”

“Sure, Klein. Anything you say.”

He didn’t refer to it again. We were pretty busy setting up organisations staffed mostly by Rheattites with some token supervision by Meramites; though the big grey men didn’t actually do very much. We had pulled Reeth out of Blue Space Valley to help train Rheattite technicians to make Klittmann-type armaments. Already we had a workshop-style pilot scheme going. Now we were ready to expand into what would eventually be a full-scale factory.

Bec was convinced that once guns started rolling off the production line and into Rotrox hands we would finally have gained their full confidence. Any suspicions they might still have about our intentions would be dispelled; and even better, we could jointly set a tentative date for the invasion of Killibol — which was the Big Thing Bec was aiming at.

Already Bec tended to stay more and more in his office, sending me out to do the spadework. I gained a wealth of experience that way. As usual Bec was quick to latch on to technical gimmicks and he was setting up a television network that enabled him to watch practically everything in Rheatt. Wherever I went Bec’s television face was there to give me guidance.

Setting up the factory was a big job. Bec sent me out to supervise all of it, with Reeth and Harmen. The place was to be guarded by Rotrox warriors to ensure that none of the products got into the wrong hands, and otherwise was to be managed solely by Rheattite technicians, members of the new élite that Bec planned for the Rheattic nation. The factory was about fifty miles away from Parkland. I spent about four weeks there getting things running smoothly and sorting out the discipline a factory needs. At the end of it the Rheattites had begun to cotton on, but I was exhausted.

When I arrived back in Parkland Bec wasn’t in his quarters. I went straight over to Palramara’s tower, more than ready to relax in my favourite location on the planet Earth. The elevator took me smoothly up through green shadows, like passing through water. I stepped into the room with the big windows.

Bec was there, lounging on a couch under one of the windows. He was naked to the waist: his shirt and boots were strewn across the other end of the room. Palramara was there, too. She had seen me come in but she didn’t look at me, simply turned away and gazed out of the window.

The situation was spelled out clearly enough. It didn’t need any speeches. “How long have you been here?” I demanded bluntly.

“Just a couple of weeks, on and off. Ever since I decided to take a look at this dame.” Bec scratched his hairy chest. “I found out why the Rotrox didn’t bump her off, Klein. It seems they have a tradition: the conqueror gets the use of the conquered chieftain’s wife. Cute, isn’t it? Naturally, Imnitrin doesn’t care for Earth females so he just let her be.”

“And why should that bring you in?” I said harshly.

“Why, I’ve got Imnitrin’s job now. You did a fine job on the factory, Klein. When the Hackers started rolling off the production line Imnitrin took the first batch home to Merame to show the Tribal Council. He never liked it much on Earth anyway and he persuaded them to appoint me Governor in his place. So the tradition devolves on me. I have to do my duty now I’m practically a member of the Council of the Rotrox.”

“Oh, sure,” I sneered. “You were always big on tradition, weren’t you?”

Bec smiled unpleasantly. “She’s not too badly off. Look at it this way, she could have got Imnitrin.” Unconcernedly he drank from a goblet. “O.K., Klein, I’ll see you in the morning. Be at the office early, we’ve a lot of work on hand.”

The blood seemed to be drumming in my head. The gun in my holster was itching to leap into my hand. If it had been anybody else, Grale or even Reeth, I would have shot him down without a thought. As it was I was paralysed. I stood there glaring. Then without another word I walked out.

I reported early next morning, just as Bec said. He was already there. He nodded to me as I came in. The television screens that lined one wall of his office were all alive, mostly showing deserted scenes in various parts of Rheatt and at the new factory; we hadn’t inaugurated a night shift yet.

“Klein,” he said, “I’ve been thinking we ought to set up a training school for young Rheattites—”

“Cut it out,” I interrupted. “Find another whipping-boy. I’ve quit.”

He looked at me sourly. “You’re quitting, Klein? Where’re you gonna quit to?”

“I’ll worry about that. This is just to tell you. Maybe Grale’s more your man anyway.”

“Maybe he is at that. He’d know better than to lose his head over a woman.”

I looked him straight in the eye. I knew he could feel my hatred. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” I accused.