Starship Troopers Part 13

I got back to barracks with stars in my eyes and whiffing slightly of perfume. Carmen had kissed me good-by.

The only O. C. S. cla.s.sroom course the content of which I'm even going to mention was: History and Moral Philosophy.

I was surprised to find it in the curriculum. H. & M. P. has nothing to do with combat and how to lead a platoon; its connection with war (where it is connected) is in why to fight - a matter already settled for any candidate long before he reaches O. C. S. An M. I. fights because he is M. I.

I decided that the course must be a repeat for the benefit of those of us (maybe a third) who had never had it in school. Over 20 per cent of my cadet cla.s.s were not from Terra (a much higher percentage of colonials sign up to serve than do people born on Earth - sometimes it makes you wonder) and of the three quarters or so from Terra, some were from a.s.sociated territories and other places where H. & M. P. might not be taught. So I figured it for a cinch course which would give me a little rest from tough courses, the ones with decimal points.

Wrong again. Unlike my high school course, you had to pa.s.s it. Not by examination, however. The course included examinations and prepared papers and quizzes and such - but no marks. What you had to have was the instructor's opinion that you were worthy of commission.

If he gave you a downcheck, a board sat on you, questioning not merely whether you could be an officer but whether you belonged in the Army at any any rank, no matter how fast you might be with weapons - deciding whether to give you extra instruction . . . or just kick you out and let you be a civilian. rank, no matter how fast you might be with weapons - deciding whether to give you extra instruction . . . or just kick you out and let you be a civilian.

History and Moral Philosophy works like a delayed-action bomb. You wake up in the middle of the night and think: Now what did he mean by that? that? That had been true even with my high school course; I simply hadn't known what Colonel Dubois was talking about. When I was a kid I thought it was silly for the course to be in the science department. It was nothing like physics or chemistry; why wasn't it over in the fuzzy studies where it belonged? The only reason I paid attention was because there were such lovely arguments. That had been true even with my high school course; I simply hadn't known what Colonel Dubois was talking about. When I was a kid I thought it was silly for the course to be in the science department. It was nothing like physics or chemistry; why wasn't it over in the fuzzy studies where it belonged? The only reason I paid attention was because there were such lovely arguments.

I had no idea that "Mr." Dubois was trying to teach me why why to fight until long after I had decided to fight anyhow. to fight until long after I had decided to fight anyhow.

Well, why should should I fight? Wasn't it preposterous to expose my tender skin to the violence of unfriendly strangers? Especially as the pay at any rank was barely spending money, the hours terrible, and the working conditions worse? When I could be sitting at home while such matters were handled by thick-skulled characters who I fight? Wasn't it preposterous to expose my tender skin to the violence of unfriendly strangers? Especially as the pay at any rank was barely spending money, the hours terrible, and the working conditions worse? When I could be sitting at home while such matters were handled by thick-skulled characters who enjoyed enjoyed such games? Particularly when the strangers against whom I fought never had done anything to me personally until I showed up and started kicking over their tea wagon - what sort of nonsense is this? such games? Particularly when the strangers against whom I fought never had done anything to me personally until I showed up and started kicking over their tea wagon - what sort of nonsense is this?

Fight because I'm an M. I.? Brother, you're drooling like Dr. Pavlov's dogs. Cut it out and start thinking.

Major Reid, our instructor, was a blind man with a disconcerting habit of looking straight at you and calling you by name. We were reviewing events after the war between the Russo-Anglo-American Alliance and the Chinese Hegemony, 1987 and following. But this was the day that we heard the news of the destruction of San Francisco and the San Joaquin Valley; I thought he would give us a pep talk. After all, even a civilian ought to be able to figure it out now - the Bugs or us. Fight or die.

Major Reid didn't mention San Francisco. He had one of us apes summarize the negotiated treaty of New Delhi, discuss how it ignored prisoners of war . . . and, by implication, dropped the subject forever; the armistice became a stalemate and prisoners stayed where they were - on one side; on the other side they were turned loose and, during the Disorders, made their way home - or not if they didn't want to.

Major Reid's victim summed up the unreleased prisoners: survivors of two divisions of British paratroopers, some thousands of civilians, captured mostly in j.a.pan, the Philippines, and Russia and sentenced for "political" crimes.

"Besides that, there were many other military prisoners," Major Reid's victim went on, "captured during and before the war - there were rumors that some had been captured in an earlier war and never released. The total of unreleased prisoners was never known. The best estimates place the number around sixty-five thousand."

"Why the 'best'?"

"Uh, that's the estimate in the textbook, sir."

"Please be precise in your language. Was the number greater or less than one hundred thousand?"

"Uh, I don't know, sir."

"And n.o.body else knows. Was it greater than one thousand?"

"Probably, sir. Almost certainly."

"Utterly certain - because more than that eventually escaped, found their ways home, were tallied by name. I see you did not read your lesson carefully. Mr. Rico!"

Now I was the victim. "Yes, sir."

"Are a thousand unreleased prisoners sufficient reason to start or resume a war? Bear in mind that millions of innocent people may die, almost certainly will die, if war is started or resumed."

I didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir! sir! More than enough reason." More than enough reason."

" 'More than enough.' Very well, is one prisoner, unreleased by the enemy, enough reason to start or resume a war?"

I hesitated. I knew the M. I. answer - but I didn't think that was the one he wanted. He said sharply, "Come, come, Mister! We have an upper limit of one thousand; I invited you to consider a lower limit of one. But you can't pay a promissory note which reads 'somewhere between one and one thousand pounds' - and starting a war is much more serious than paying a trifle of money. Wouldn't it be criminal to endanger a country - two countries in fact - to save one man? Especially as he may not deserve it? Or may die in the meantime? Thousands of people get killed every day in accidents . . . so why hesitate over one man? Answer! Answer yes, or answer no - you're holding up the cla.s.s."

He got my goat. I gave him the cap trooper's answer. "Yes, sir!"

" 'Yes' what?"

"It doesn't matter whether it's a thousand - or just one, sir. You fight."

"Aha! The number of prisoners is irrelevant. Good. Now prove your answer."

I was stuck. I knew knew it was the right answer. But I didn't know why. He kept hounding me. "Speak up, Mr. Rico. This is an exact science. You have made a mathematical statement; you must give proof. Someone may claim that you have a.s.serted, by a.n.a.logy, that one potato is worth the same price, no more, no less, as one thousand potatoes. No?" it was the right answer. But I didn't know why. He kept hounding me. "Speak up, Mr. Rico. This is an exact science. You have made a mathematical statement; you must give proof. Someone may claim that you have a.s.serted, by a.n.a.logy, that one potato is worth the same price, no more, no less, as one thousand potatoes. No?"

"No, sir!"

"Why not? Prove it."

"Men are not potatoes."

"Good, good, Mr. Rico! I think we have strained your tired brain enough for one day. Bring to cla.s.s tomorrow a written proof, in symbolic logic, of your answer to my original question. I'll give you a hint. See reference seven in today's chapter. Mr. Salomon! How did the present political organization evolve out of the Disorders? And what is its moral justification?"

Sally stumbled through the first part. However, n.o.body can describe accurately how the Federation came about; it just grew. With national governments in collapse at the end of the XXth century, something had to fill the vacuum, and in many cases it was returned veterans. They had lost a war, most of them had no jobs, many were sore as could be over the terms of the Treaty of New Delhi, especially the P. O. W. foul-up - and they knew how to fight. But it wasn't revolution; it was more like what happened in Russia in 1917 - the system collapsed; somebody else moved in.

The first known case, in Aberdeen, Scotland, was typical. Some veterans got together as vigilantes to stop rioting and looting, hanged a few people (including two veterans) and decided not to let anyone but veterans on their committee. Just arbitrary at first - they trusted each other a bit, they didn't trust anyone else. What started as an emergency measure became const.i.tutional practice . . . in a generation or two.

Probably those Scottish veterans, since they were finding it necessary to hang some veterans, decided that, if they had to do this, they weren't going to let any "bleedin', profiteering, black-market, double-time-for-overtime, army-dodging, unprintable" civilians have any say about it. They'd do what they were told, see? - while us apes straightened things out! That's my guess, because I might feel the same way . . . and historians agree that antagonism between civilians and returned soldiers was more intense than we can imagine today.

Sally didn't tell it by the book. Finally Major Reid cut him off. "Bring a summary to cla.s.s tomorrow, three thousand words. Mr. Salomon, can you give me a reason - not historical nor theoretical but practical - why the franchise is today limited to discharged veterans?"

"Uh, because they are picked men, sir. Smarter."

"Preposterous!"

"Sir?"

"Is the word too long for you? I said it was a silly notion. Service men are not brighter than civilians. In many cases civilians are much more intelligent. That was the sliver of justification underlying the attempted coup d'etat coup d'etat just before the Treaty of New Delhi, the so-called 'Revolt of the Scientists': let the intelligent elite run things and you'll have utopia. It fell flat on its foolish face of course. Because the pursuit of science, despite its social benefits, is itself not a social virtue; its pract.i.tioners can be men so self-centered as to be lacking in social responsibility. I've given you a hint, Mister; can you pick it up?" just before the Treaty of New Delhi, the so-called 'Revolt of the Scientists': let the intelligent elite run things and you'll have utopia. It fell flat on its foolish face of course. Because the pursuit of science, despite its social benefits, is itself not a social virtue; its pract.i.tioners can be men so self-centered as to be lacking in social responsibility. I've given you a hint, Mister; can you pick it up?"

Sally answered, "Uh, service men are disciplined, sir."

Major Reid was gentle with him. "Sorry. An appealing theory not backed up by facts. You and I are not permitted to vote as long as we remain in the Service, nor is it verifiable that military discipline makes a man self-disciplined once he is out; the crime rate of veterans is much like that of civilians. And you have forgotten that in peacetime most veterans come from non-combatant auxiliary services and have not been subjected to the full rigors of military discipline; they have merely been harried, overworked, and endangered - yet their votes count."

Major Reid smiled. "Mr. Salomon, I handed you a trick question. The practical reason for continuing our system is the same as the practical reason for continuing anything: It works satisfactorily.

"Nevertheless, it is instructive to observe the details. Throughout history men have labored to place the sovereign franchise in hands that would guard it well and use it wisely, for the benefit of all. An early attempt was absolute monarchy, pa.s.sionately defended as the 'divine right of kings.'

"Sometimes attempts were made to select a wise monarch, rather man leave it up to G.o.d, as when the Swedes picked a Frenchman, General Bernadotte, to rule them. The objection to this is that the supply of Bernadottes is limited.

"Historic examples range from absolute monarch to utter anarch; mankind has tried thousands of ways and many more have been proposed, some weird in the extreme such as the antlike communism urged by Plato under the misleading t.i.tle The Republic The Republic. But the intent has always been moralistic: to provide stable and benevolent government.

"All systems seek to achieve this by limiting franchise to those who are believed believed to have the wisdom to use it justly. I repeat ' to have the wisdom to use it justly. I repeat 'all systems'; even the so-called 'unlimited democracies' excluded from franchise not less than one quarter of their populations by age, birth, poll tax, criminal record, or other." systems'; even the so-called 'unlimited democracies' excluded from franchise not less than one quarter of their populations by age, birth, poll tax, criminal record, or other."

Major Reid smiled cynically. "I have never been able to see how a thirty-year old moron can vote more wisely than a fifteen-year-old genius . . . but that was the age of the 'divine right of the common man.' Never mind, they paid for their folly.

"The sovereign franchise has been bestowed by all sorts of rules - place of birth, family of birth, race, s.e.x, property, education, age, religion, et cetera. All these systems worked and none of them well. All were regarded as tyrannical by many, all eventually collapsed or were overthrown.

"Now here are we with still another system . . . and our system works quite well. Many complain but none rebel; personal freedom for all is greatest in history, laws are few, taxes are low, living standards are as high as productivity permits, crime is at its lowest ebb. Why? Not because our voters are smarter than other people; we've disposed of that argument. Mr. Tammany can you tell us why our system works better than any used by our ancestors?"

I don't know where Clyde Tammany got his name; I'd take him for a Hindu. He answered, "Uh, I'd venture to guess that it's because the electors are a small group who know that the decisions are up to them . . . so they study the issues."

"No guessing, please; this is exact science. And your guess is wrong. The ruling n.o.bles of many another system were a small group fully aware of their grave power. Furthermore, our franchised citizens are not everywhere a small fraction; you know or should know that the percentage of citizens among adults ranges from over eighty per cent on Iskander to less than three per cent in some Terran nations yet government is much the same everywhere. Nor are the voters picked men; they bring no special wisdom, talent, or training to their sovereign tasks. So what difference is there between our voters and wielders of franchise in the past? We have had enough guesses; I'll state the obvious: Under our system every voter and officeholder is a man who has demonstrated through voluntary and difficult service that he places the welfare of the group ahead of personal advantage.

"And that is the one practical difference."

"He may fail in wisdom, he may lapse in civic virtue. But his average performance is enormously better than that of any other cla.s.s of rulers in history."

Major Reid paused to touch the face of an old-fashioned watch, "reading" its hands. "The period is almost over and we have yet to determine the moral reason for our success in governing ourselves. Now continued success is never never a matter of chance. Bear in mind that this is science, not wishful thinking; the universe is what it a matter of chance. Bear in mind that this is science, not wishful thinking; the universe is what it is is, not what we want it to be. To vote is to wield authority; it is the supreme authority from which all other authority derives - such as mine to make your lives miserable once a day. Force, Force, if you will! - the franchise is force, naked and raw, the Power of the Rods and the Ax. Whether it is exerted by ten men or by ten billion, political authority is if you will! - the franchise is force, naked and raw, the Power of the Rods and the Ax. Whether it is exerted by ten men or by ten billion, political authority is force force."

"But this universe consists of paired dualities. What is the converse of authority? Mr. Rico."

He had picked one I could answer. "Responsibility, sir."

"Applause. Both for practical reasons and for mathematically verifiable moral reasons, authority and responsibility must be equal - else a balancing takes place as surely as current 'flows between points of unequal potential. To permit irresponsible authority is to sow disaster; to hold a man responsible for anything he does not control is to behave with blind idiocy. The unlimited democracies were unstable because their citizens were not responsible for the fashion in which they exerted their sovereign authority . . . other than through the tragic logic of history. The unique 'poll tax' that we must pay was unheard of. No attempt was made to determine whether a voter was socially responsible to the extent of his literally unlimited authority. If he voted the impossible, the disastrous possible happened instead - and responsibility was then forced on him w.i.l.l.y-nilly and destroyed both him and his foundationless temple."

"Superficially, our system is only slightly different; we have democracy unlimited by race, color, creed, birth, wealth, s.e.x, or conviction, and anyone may win sovereign power by a usually short and not too arduous term of service - nothing more than a light workout to our cave-man ancestors. But that slight difference is one between a system that works, since it is constructed to match the facts, and one that is inherently unstable. Since sovereign franchise is the ultimate in human authority, we insure that all who wield it accept the ultimate in social responsibility - we require each person who wishes to exert control over the state to wager his own life - and lose it, if need be - to save the life of the state. The maximum responsibility a human can accept is thus equated to the ultimate authority a human can exert. Yin and yang, perfect and equal."

The Major added, "Can anyone define why there has never been revolution against our system? Despite the fact that every government in history has had such? Despite the notorious fact that complaints are loud and unceasing?"

One of the older cadets took a crack at it. "Sir, revolution is impossible."

"Yes. But why?"

"Because revolution - armed uprising - requires not only dissatisfaction but aggressiveness. A revolutionist has to be willing to fight and die - or he's just a parlor pink. If you separate out the aggressive ones and make them the sheep dogs, the sheep will never give you trouble."

"Nicely put! a.n.a.logy is always suspect, but that one is close to the facts. Bring me a mathematical proof tomorrow. Time for one more question - you ask it and I'll answer. Anyone?"

"Uh, sir, why not go - well, go the limit? Require everyone to serve and let everybody vote?"

"Young man, can you restore my eyesight?"

"Sir? Why, no, sir!"

"You would find it much easier than to instill moral virtue - social responsibility - into a person who doesn't have it, doesn't want it, and resents having the burden thrust on him. This is why we make it so hard to enroll, so easy to resign. Social responsibility above the level of family, or at most of tribe, requires imagination - devotion, loyalty, all the higher virtues - which a man must develop himself; if he has them forced down him, he will vomit them out. Conscript armies have been tried in the past. Look up in the library the psychiatric report on brainwashed prisoners in the so called 'Korean War,' circa 1950 - the Mayer Report. Bring an a.n.a.lysis to cla.s.s." He touched his watch. "Dismissed."

Major Reid gave us a busy time.

But it was interesting. I caught one of those master's thesis a.s.signments he chucked around so casually; I had suggested that the Crusades were different from most wars. I got sawed off and handed this: Required: Required: to prove that war and moral perfection derive from the same genetic inheritance. to prove that war and moral perfection derive from the same genetic inheritance.

Briefly, thus: All wars arise from population pressure. (Yes, even the Crusades, though you have to dig into trade routes and birth rate and several other things to prove it.) Morals - all all correct moral rules derive from the instinct to survive; moral behavior is survival behavior above the individual level - as in a father who dies to save his children. But since population pressure results from the process of surviving through others, then war, because it results from population pressure, derives from the same inherited instinct which produces all moral rules suitable for human beings. correct moral rules derive from the instinct to survive; moral behavior is survival behavior above the individual level - as in a father who dies to save his children. But since population pressure results from the process of surviving through others, then war, because it results from population pressure, derives from the same inherited instinct which produces all moral rules suitable for human beings.

Check of proof: Is it possible to abolish war by relieving population pressure (and thus do away with the all-too evident evils of war) through constructing a moral code under which population is limited to resources? Is it possible to abolish war by relieving population pressure (and thus do away with the all-too evident evils of war) through constructing a moral code under which population is limited to resources?

Without debating the usefulness or morality of planned parenthood, it may be verified by observation that any breed which stops its own increase gets crowded out by breeds which expand. Some human populations did so, in Terran history, and other breeds moved in and engulfed them.

Nevertheless, let's a.s.sume that the human race manages to balance birth and death, just right to fit its own planets, and thereby becomes peaceful. What happens?

Soon (about next Wednesday) the Bugs move in, kill off this breed which "ain'ta gonna study war no more" and the universe forgets us. Which still may happen. Either we spread and wipe out the Bugs, or they spread and wipe us out - because both races are tough and smart and want the same real estate.

Do you know how fast population pressure could cause us to fill the entire universe shoulder to shoulder? The answer will astound you, just the flicker of an eye in terms of the age of our race.

Try it - it's a compound-interest expansion.

But does Man have any "right" to spread through the universe?

Man is what he is, a wild animal with the will to survive, and (so far) the ability, against all compet.i.tion. Unless one accepts that, anything one says about morals, war, politics - you name it - is nonsense. Correct morals arise from knowing what Man is - not what do gooders and well-meaning old Aunt Nellies would like him to be.

The universe will let us know - later - whether or not Man has any "right" to expand through it.

In the meantime the M. I. will be in there, on the bounce and swinging, on the side of our own race.

Toward the end each of us was shipped out to serve under an experienced combat commander. This was a semifinal examination, your 'board-ship instructor could decide that you didn't have what it takes. You could demand a board but I never heard of anybody who did; they either came back with an upcheck or we never saw them again.

Some hadn't failed; it was just that they were killed - because a.s.signments were to ships about to go into action. We were required to keep kit bags packed - once at lunch, all the cadet officers of my company were tapped; they left without eating and I found myself cadet company commander.

Like boot chevrons, this is an uncomfortable honor, but in less than two days my own call came.

I bounced down to the Commandant's office, kit bag over my shoulder and feeling grand. I was sick of late hours and burning eyes and never catching up, of looking stupid in cla.s.s; a few weeks in the cheerful company of a combat team was just what Johnnie needed!

I pa.s.sed some new cadets, trotting to cla.s.s in close formation, each with the grim look that every O. C. S. candidate gets when he realizes that possibly he made a mistake in bucking for officer, and I found myself singing. I shut up when I was within earshot of the office.

Two others were there, Cadets Ha.s.san and Byrd. Ha.s.san the a.s.sa.s.sin was the oldest man in our cla.s.s and looked like something a fisherman had let out of a bottle, while Birdie wasn't much bigger than a sparrow and about as intimidating.

We were ushered into the Holy of Holies. The Commandant was in his wheel chair - we never saw him out of it except Sat.u.r.day inspection and parade, I guess walking hurt. But that didn't mean you didn't see him - you could be working a prob at the board, turn around and find that wheel chair behind you, and Colonel Nielssen reading your mistakes.

He never interrupted - there was a standing order not to shout "Attention!" But it's disconcerting. There seemed to be about six of him.

The Commandant had a permanent rank of fleet general (yes, that that Nielssen); his rank as colonel was temporary, pending second retirement, to permit him to be Commandant. I once questioned a paymaster about this and confirmed what the regulations seemed to say: The Commandant got only the pay of a colonel - but would revert to the pay of a fleet general on the day he decided to retire again. Nielssen); his rank as colonel was temporary, pending second retirement, to permit him to be Commandant. I once questioned a paymaster about this and confirmed what the regulations seemed to say: The Commandant got only the pay of a colonel - but would revert to the pay of a fleet general on the day he decided to retire again.

Well, as Ace says, it takes all sorts - I can't imagine choosing half pay for the privilege of riding herd on cadets.

Colonel Nielssen looked up and said, "Morning, gentlemen. Make yourselves comfortable." I sat down but wasn't comfortable. He glided over to a coffee machine, drew four cups, and Ha.s.san helped him deal them out. I didn't want coffee but a cadet doesn't refuse the Commandant's hospitality.

He took a sip. "I have your orders, gentlemen," he announced, "and your temporary commissions." He went on, "But I want to be sure you understand your status."

We had already been lectured about this. We were going to be officers just enough for instruction and testing - "supernumerary, probationary, and temporary." Very junior, quite superfluous, on good behavior, and extremely temporary; we would revert to cadet when we got back and could be busted at any time by the officers examining us.

We would be "temporary third lieutenants" - a rank as necessary as feet on a fish, wedged into the hairline between fleet sergeants and real officers. It is as low as you can get and still be called an "officer." If anybody ever saluted a third lieutenant, the light must have been bad.

"Your commission reads 'third lieutenant,' " he went on, "but your pay stays the same, you continue to be addressed as 'Mister,' the only change in uniform is a shoulder pip even smaller than cadet insignia. You continue under instruction since it has not yet been settled that you are fit to be officers." The Colonel smiled. "So why call you a 'third lieutenant'?"

I had wondered about that. Why this whoopty-do of "commissions" that weren't real commissions?