"The lunatics of Washenn tore down the insignia and took up arms against the garrison. Stannell II was sufficiently mad to demand that his order be complied with if it meant the slaughter of every Earthman alive, but he was assassinated before that could be put into effect, and Edard, his successor, canceled the original order. All was peace again."
"You mean," said Flora incredulously, "that the Imperial insignia was not replaced?"
"I mean that exactly. By the Stars, Earth is the only one of the millions and millions of planets in the Empire that has no insignia in its Council Chamber. This miserable planet we are on now. And if even today we were to try again, they would fight to the last man to prevent us. And you ask me if they're touchy. I tell you they're mad."
There was silence in the slowly graying light of dawn, until Flora's voice sounded again, little and unsure of itself.
"Ennius?"
"Yes."
"You're not just concerned about he rebellion that you're expecting because of its effect on our reputation. I wouldn't be your wife if I couldn't half read your thoughts, and it seems to me that you expect something actually dangerous to the Empire...You shouldn't hide anything from me, Ennius. You're afraid these Earthmen will win."
"Flora, I can't talk about it." There was something tortured in his eyes. "It isn't even a hunch...Maybe four years on this world is too long for any sane man. But why are these Earthmen so confident?"
"How do you know they are?"
"Oh, they are. I have my sources of information too. After all, they've been crushed three times. They can't have illusions left. Yet they face two hundred million worlds, each one singly stronger than they, and they are confident. Can they really be so firm in their faith in some Destiny or some supernatural Force-something that has meaning only to them? Maybe-maybe-maybe-"
"Maybe what, Ennius?"
"Maybe they have their weapons."
"Weapons that will allow one world to defeat two hundred millions? You are panicky. No weapon could do that."
"I have already mentioned the Synapsifier."
"And I have told you how to take care of that. Do you know of any other type of weapon they could use?"
Reluctantly, "No."
"Exactly. There isn't any such weapon possible. Now I'll tell you what to do, dear. Why don't you get in touch with the High Minister and, in earnest of your good faith, warn him of Arvardan's plans? Urge, unofficially, that he not be granted permission. This will remove any suspicion-or should-that the Imperial Government has any hand in this silly violation of their customs. At the same time you will have stopped Arvardan without having appeared in the mess yourself. Then have the Bureau send out two good psychologists-or, better, ask for four, so they'll be sure to send at least two-and have them check on the Synapsifier possibility...And anything else can be taken care of by our soldiers, while we allow posterity to take care of itself.
"Now why don't you sleep right here? We can put the chair back down, you can use my fur piece as a blanket, and I'll have a breakfast tray wheeled out when you awake. Things will seem different in the sun."
And so it was that Ennius, after waking the night through, fell asleep five minutes before sunrise.
Thus it was eight hours later that the High Minister first learned of Bel Arvardan and his mission from the Procurator himself.
7. Conversation With Madmen?
As for Arvardan, he was concerned only with making holiday. His ship, the Ophiuchus, was not to be expected for at least a month, therefore he had a month to spend as lavishly as he might wish.
So it was that on the sixth day after his arrival at Everest, Bel Arvardan left his host and took passage on the Terrestrial Air Transport Company's largest jet Stratospheric, traveling between Everest and the Terrestrial capital, Washenn.
If he took a commercial liner, rather than the speedy cruiser placed at his service by Ennius, it was done deliberately, out of the reasonable curiosity of a stranger and an archaeologist toward the ordinary life of men inhabiting such a planet as Earth.
And for another reason too.
Arvardan was from the Sirian Sector, notoriously the sector above all others in the Galaxy where anti-Terrestrian prejudice was strong. Yet he had always liked to think he had not succumbed to that prejudice himself. As a scientist, as an archaeologist, he couldn't afford to. Of course he had grown into the habit of thinking of Earthmen in certain set caricature types, and even now the word "Earthman " seemed an ugly one to him. But he wasn't really prejudiced.
At least he didn't think so. For instance, if an Earthman had ever wished to join an expedition of his or work for him in any capacity-and had the training and the ability-he would be accepted. If there were an opening for him, that was. And if the other members of the expedition didn't mind too much. That was the rub. Usually the fellow workers objected, and then what could you do?
He pondered the matter. Now certainly he would have no objection to eating with an Earthman, or even bunking with one in case of need-assuming the Earthman were reasonably clean, and healthy. In fact, he would in all ways treat him as he would treat anyone else, he thought. Yet there was no denying that he would always be conscious of the fact that an Earthman was an Earthman. He couldn't help that. That was the result of a childhood immersed in an atmosphere of bigotry so complete that it was almost invisible, so entire that you accepted its axioms as second nature. Then you left it and saw it for what it was when you looked back.
But here was his chance to test himself. He was in a plane with only Earthmen about him, and he felt perfectly natural, almost. Well, just a little self-conscious.