Monument. Lloyd Biggle jr.

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ here if they think they are needed elsewhere. Tomorrow will be worse.”

      The pain returned.

      * * * *

      One day he had a class of fifteen, and the next day there were eleven. The pain came more frequently, and he ignored it when he could and doggedly continued. “You’ve got to understand the government of the Federation. There are independent member worlds and independent non-member worlds, and dependent worlds that are virtually the property of other worlds.”

      They were bored; most of them seemed asleep. He knew the problem—part of the problem—was that he was a lousy teacher, but he couldn’t think of any other way to do it, and time was so short.

      “You’ve got to start as an independent non-member and qualify for membership in the Federation or, so help me, you’ll end up as somebody’s property. I don’t know the requirements for membership—that’s one of the reasons you’ll need those attorneys. Banu?”

      Banu tonelessly recited the names and address.

      “I do know you’ll have to read and write,” Obrien went on. “Everyone. The whole population, even the children, those that are old enough. It helps that you already know Galactic, but being able to speak it isn’t enough. If you can’t read and write, you’ll never know what’s going on in the galaxy and you won’t be able to look after your own interests. Anyway, there’s a literacy requirement of maybe ninety per cent for Federation membership. This afternoon we’ll start writing lessons, and when you’ve learned you’ll have to teach others, every day, whenever you get a chance. Everyone has to learn.

      “You’ve got to know about bureaucracies. Every government has them. The bigger the government, the bigger the bureaucracies. What the government gives, the bureaucracy takes away and may not even know it’s doing it. If you don’t know how to fight back, it’ll steal this world right out from under you. There’s a Colonial Bureau that’s supposed to oversee the administration of dependent worlds, but what actually happens—”

      The pain struck relentlessly, and he clutched his abdomen and sobbed, “What’s the use?”

      Fornri and Dalla hurried to his side, and Obrien, rigid with agony, gasped, “Won’t any of them come back?”

      “They all say maybe tomorrow,” Fornri said.

      “Tomorrow I may be dead. All of us may be dead.”

      He shook off Fornri’s arm, staggered to a log at the edge of the clearing, and sat down. “I waited too long and now there isn’t time. I can’t make you see the danger.”

      All of the students were awake now, and some of them were standing.

      “This is a poor world,” Obrien said, “but it’s got something that’s priceless. It’s a paradise. The beaches and ocean are wonderful. The climate is wonderful. Everything is beautiful.”

      He lurched to his feet. Fornri hurried to keep him from falling, but Obrien recovered his balance and jerked away. He said with terrible earnestness, “The moment it occurs to anyone to put a vacation resort on this world, you’re doomed. That man is your enemy, and you’ve got to fight him to the death. If you let him build just one resort, there’ll be ten or a hundred more before you know what’s happening. You’ll have to move your villages back into the forest, and even if you’re allowed to use the sea there’ll be no more hunting. The resorts will drive away the koluf, and you’ll starve. And I can’t make you understand.”

      He staggered back to the log. The students had not moved. “And this is what I have to work with,” Obrien said resignedly. “Banu, who remembers but never understands. Fornri, my great-great-grandson, who is being loyal even though he’d rather be hunting, and who understands but rarely remembers.”

      Fornri was blinking back tears.

      “And Dalla.” Obrien struggled to his feet and placed his arm about her affectionately, and she hid her face on his shoulder and wept. “She’s not here to learn, but to keep me from making myself sick, and I’m already sick beyond any of your understanding.” He turned. “And the rest of you, who’ll stay with me loyally until you find an excuse to leave. It’s all I have, and I’ll do my damnedest with it. Come here, all of you.”

      He sat down on the log, and they gathered around him. He nodded to Fornri, who brought Obrien the smashed spaceship’s battered logbook. Sporadically, down through the years, Obrien had used it as a journal. Now it contained the laborious working out of a world’s one hope for survival.

      “I’m going to give you the Plan,” he said. “You aren’t ready for it, and it’s long and complicated, and most of it you won’t understand. I can only hope that when you need it you’ll be able to figure out what I was talking about. If you can’t pay attention, at least keep Banu awake. Someone has got to hear this and remember it.

      “I’ll give it to you over and over, with all of the details I can think of, and then I’ll give it to you over and over again. As long as I’m able to speak, I’ll tell you the Plan.

      “And then, before God—before my God and yours—I’ll have done my best.”

      Chapter 3

      From Fornri’s earliest memories the Langri had terrified him.

      Few children possessed living great-great-grandfathers, and those who did had to care for doddering, decrepit oldsters who thought only of the fire of death.

      The Langri was—the Langri. His was the rope spear in the koluf hunt, and his stroke never missed. He it was who launched the boat into one of the world’s rare storms to rescue the children caught out in it. When all feared to cross a swollen stream, it was the Langri who found a ford and went first to test it. Those who had broken arms or legs were brought to him, for only the Langri had the skill to deal with such tragedies.

      All manner of adults came to ask his counsel, from a woman whose marriage was troubled to the village leaders and even the Elder; and when the Langri said, “Do this,” entire villages leaped to his bidding. Where the Langri led, everyone followed.

      Such a great-great-grandfather was a frightful burden for a small boy. The Langri would say, “Why do you go upstream to cross the river? Why don’t you swim it here, like the older boys?” Or “The older boys dive from the cliff. Why do you walk down?” Fornri was terrified, but he swam, and he dived.

      And when the Langri said, “Spearing marnl is child’s play. You should be hunting koluf,” Fornri joined the hunters—the youngest person by far in his boat, perhaps the youngest who had ever joined a koluf hunt. The others did not know until afterward that the Langri had sent him, but the custom was for an empty place to be filled by anyone who wanted it, so they did not turn him away. Instead, they mocked him. “Look at the mighty hunter who honors us! Surely our boat is destined for greatness on this day! His will be the rope spear—if he can stop trembling long enough to throw it!”

      But Fornri’s trembling was from rage, not fear—rage at the Langri, for sending him, and at the hunters, for their mocking. He flung the rope spear with such fury that he fell overboard. The jeers stopped abruptly as the spear struck solidly in the best place of all, the notch just back of the head; and because Fornri was already in the water, he took the trailing rope and made the first loop about the koluf’s knifelike, threshing tail, and the others thought he had gone into the water purposely. No one ever mocked Fornri again, about СКАЧАТЬ