Worldwar_ Upsetting The Balance Part 1

Worldwar_ Upsetting the Balance.

by Harry Turtledove.

.1.

The fleetlord Atvar had convened a great many meetings of his shiplords since the Race's conquest fleet came to Tosev 3. Quite a few of those meetings had been imperfectly happy; the Tosevites were far more numerous and far more technically advanced than the Race had imagined when the conquest fleet set out from Home. But Atvar had never imagined calling a meeting like this.

He used one eye turret to watch his leading officers as they gathered in the great hall of his bannership, the 127th Emperor Hetto. 127th Emperor Hetto. The other eye turret swiveled down to review the images and doc.u.ments he would be presenting to those officers. The other eye turret swiveled down to review the images and doc.u.ments he would be presenting to those officers.

Kirel, shiplord of the 127th Emperor Hetto 127th Emperor Hetto and a staunch ally, stood beside him on the podium. To him, Atvar murmured, "Giving a good odor to what happened in the SSSR won't be easy." and a staunch ally, stood beside him on the podium. To him, Atvar murmured, "Giving a good odor to what happened in the SSSR won't be easy."

One of Kirel's eye turrets swung toward a hologram of the tall cloud rising from the nuclear explosion that had halted-worse, had vaporized-the Race's drive on Moskva. "Exalted Fleetlord, the odor is anything but good," he said. "We knew the Big Uglies were engaged in nuclear research, yes, but we did not expect any of their little empires and not-empires-especially the SSSR-to develop and deploy a bomb so soon."

"Especially the SSSR," Atvar agreed heavily. The Soyuz Sovietskikh Sotsialesticheskikh Respublik Soyuz Sovietskikh Sotsialesticheskikh Respublik sent a frisson of horror through any right-thinking male of the Race. A short span of years before, its people had not only overthrown their emperor but killed him and all his family. Such a crime was literally unimaginable back on Home, where emperors had ruled the Race for a hundred thousand years. Among the Big Uglies, though, impericide seemed stunningly common. sent a frisson of horror through any right-thinking male of the Race. A short span of years before, its people had not only overthrown their emperor but killed him and all his family. Such a crime was literally unimaginable back on Home, where emperors had ruled the Race for a hundred thousand years. Among the Big Uglies, though, impericide seemed stunningly common.

The gas-tight doors to the great hall hissed closed. That meant all the shiplords were here. Atvar knew it, but was still less than eager to begin the meeting. At last, Kirel had to prompt him: "Exalted Fleetlord-"

"Yes, yes," Atvar said with a hissing sigh. He turned on the podium microphones, spoke to the males waiting impatiently in their seats: "a.s.sembled shiplords, you are already aware, I am certain, of the reason for which I have summoned you here today."

He touched a b.u.t.ton. Two images sprang into being behind him, the first of a brilliant point of light northeast of the Soviet city of Kaluga captured by an observation satellite, then that ground-level shot of the cloud created by the SSSR's atomic bomb.

The shiplords, no doubt, had already seen the images tens of times. All the same, hisses of dismay and fury rose from every throat. The tailstumps of several males quivered so hard with rage that they could not stay in their seats, but had to stand until their tempers eased.

"a.s.sembled shiplords, we have taken a heavy blow," Atvar said. "Not only did this explosion take with it many brave males and a large quant.i.ty of irreplaceable landcruisers and other combat equipment, it also moved our war against the Big Uglies into a new phase, one whose outcomes are not easily foreseen."

To the Race, few words could have been more ominous. Careful planning, leaving nothing to chance, was not only inherent in the temperament of most males but inculcated in all from hatchlinghood. The Race had sent a probe to Tosev 3 sixteen hundred years before (only half so many of this planet's slow revolution around its star), decided it was worth having, and methodically begun to prepare. But for those preparations, little in the Race's three-world empire had changed in that time.

The Big Uglies, meanwhile, had gone from riding animals and swinging swords to riding jet aircraft, launching short-range missiles, using radio... and now to atomic weapons. The Race's savants would be millennia investigating and explaining how a species could move forward so fast. Neither the Race itself nor its subjects, the Hallessi and the Rabotevs, had ever shown such a pattern. To them, change came in slow, tiny, meticulously considered steps.

Atvar, unfortunately, did not have millennia to investigate the way the Big Uglies worked. Circ.u.mstances forced him to act on their time scale, and with too large a measure of their do-it-now, worry-later philosophy. He said, "In this entire sorry episode, I take comfort in but one thing."

"Permission to speak, Exalted Fleetlord?" a male called from near the front of the hall: Straha, shiplord of the 206th Emperor Yower, 206th Emperor Yower, next senior in the fleet after Kirel-and no ally of Atvar's. To Atvar's way of thinking, he was so rash and impetuous, he might as well have been a Big Ugly himself. next senior in the fleet after Kirel-and no ally of Atvar's. To Atvar's way of thinking, he was so rash and impetuous, he might as well have been a Big Ugly himself.

But at a meeting of this sort, all views needed hearing. "Speak," Atvar said resignedly.

"Exalted Fleetlord-" Straha used the proper deferential t.i.tle, but sounded anything but properly deferential. "Exalted Fleetlord, how can any part of this fiasco cause you comfort?"

Some of the shiplords muttered in alarm at the harsh language Straha used; males of the Race, even those of highest rank, were expected to show-and to feel-respect for their superiors at all times. But a disquieting number of officers-and not just those of his faction-seemed to agree with Straha.

Atvar said, "Here is the comfort, Shiplord." He used Straha's t.i.tle, high but not supreme in the conquest fleet, to remind him of his place, then went on, "a.n.a.lysis shows the plutonium the SSSR used in its weapon to have come from stocks stolen from us in a raid during Tosev 3's past autumn. The Big Uglies may be able to make a bomb if they get nuclear material, but we have no evidence they can manufacture it on their own."

"Cold comfort to the thousands of males dead because you didn't think the Tosevites could do even so much," Straha jeered.

"Shiplord, you forget yourself," Kirel said from beside Atvar; sometimes a near-equal could call attention to a breach of decorum a superior might feel he had to ignore.

"By the Emperor, Shiplord, I do not," Straha shouted back. At the mention of his sovereign, he cast down both eye turrets so he looked at the floor for a moment. So did every other male in the chamber, Atvar included. The murmurs among the shiplords grew; as Kirel had said, Straha's conduct was most out of place in a staid officers' meeting.

But Straha himself was anything but staid. "Who, Exalted Fleetlord, led the raid in which we lost this nuclear material?" he demanded.

Atvar's gut knotted. Now he knew the direction from which Straha would attack, but knowing brought no comfort. He tried to head off the shiplord: "That is not relevant to the matter before us now."

Many males, probably even most, would have yielded to his authority. Straha, though, refused to be headed off. "It most certainly is is relevant, Exalted Fleetlord," he howled. "Wasn't the chief Big Ugly male the one named Skorzeny?" relevant, Exalted Fleetlord," he howled. "Wasn't the chief Big Ugly male the one named Skorzeny?"

With its hisses, the name might almost have belonged to a male of the Race. That, however, was not why it drew a sharp reaction from the a.s.sembled shiplords. The male called Skorzeny had given the Race grief ever since the conquest fleet landed on Tosev 3. And- Straha continued as Atvar had known he would: "Exalted Fleetlord, along with promising us the capture of Moskva at our previous meeting, did you not also promise us the imminent destruction of Skorzeny? Have we achieved either of these goals?"

His sarcasm made the murmurs in the great hall rise to a din. Males shouted angrily at one another. Through the uproar, Atvar answered steadily, "Shiplord, you know we have not. I a.s.sure you, I find that at least as unfortunate as you do."

The sardonic reply did nothing to calm the shiplords. It certainly did not calm Straha, who said, "Instead of Moskva captured, we have a major force ruined. Instead of Skorzeny dead, we have the city of Split lost, Croatia more firmly in the Deutsch camp than ever, and Skorzeny boasting of what he did over every frequency on which the Deutsche broadcast. a.s.sembled shiplords, I submit to you that these plans were not adequately developed."

He couldn't have been much more provocative if he'd suggested that Atvar was in the Big Uglies' pay. Accusing a male of the Race of bad planning was as harsh a condemnation as you could make. Atvar had trouble replying, too, for the plan on which he'd relied in Split had come from the mind of an operative named Drefsab, who, despite being perhaps the best intelligence officer the Race possessed, was-or rather, had been-addicted to the Tosevite herb ginger, which could easily have clouded his judgment.

The fleetlord did say, "Experience on Tosev 3 has been that plans cannot always be as immutable as we conceived them to be back on Home. Any male who does not see this is a fool."

"Your pardon, Exalted Fleetlord, but you are the one who has failed to adapt to the conditions pertaining to this world," Straha said. "I have come to this conclusion reluctantly, I a.s.sure you; subordination to properly const.i.tuted authority has served the Race well for tens of thousands of years. But the SSSR's atomic explosion and our ignominious failure at Split, each in its own way, have shown beyond any possible doubt that our conduct of the campaign to conquer Tosev 3 has been dreadfully mishandled."

"What would you have us do?" Atvar said angrily. "Throw our own atomic weapons about with reckless abandon? For one thing, we do not have that many to throw. For another, we do not know how many bombs the SSSR constructed from the nuclear material it got from us. For a third, we also do not know how close the SSSR-and several other Tosevite empires-are to producing nuclear materials and weapons on their own. And for a fourth, we cannot devastate large areas of this planet, not with the colonization fleet already on its way here from Home."

That should have made Straha shut up. Similar arguments had, many times before. Now, though, the shiplord's eye turrets twisted to let him glance toward males throughout the great hall. Gauging his strength, Gauging his strength, Atvar thought. For the first time, alarm p.r.i.c.kled through him. Could Straha...? Atvar thought. For the first time, alarm p.r.i.c.kled through him. Could Straha...?

Straha could. "a.s.sembled shiplords," he declared. "I hereby submit to you that because our present exalted fleetlord, by his repeated misjudgments of the Big Uglies and their capabilities, put the success of our conquest of Tosev 3 not only at risk but in desperate peril, he no longer deserves to hold the supreme rank with which the Emperor entrusted him and should be replaced by another, more able, male." He did not say who that male should be, but the way he preened suggested he had at least one candidate in mind.

"Mutiny!" Atvar exclaimed.

"Mutiny," Kirel echoed, but not quite so promptly as Atvar would have liked. The fleetlord gave him a quick, suspicious glance. After himself, Kirel was the highest-ranking male in the fleet. If he was to be deposed, the shiplords might well decide they still could not stomach Straha as his replacement-in which case Kirel might get the job.

"It is not mutiny," Straha insisted-and now he did not give Atvar his t.i.tle of respect. "We would be insane if we did not provide for removing a superior who has shown himself to be incompetent. I have the right to request that we consider such a removal at this time."

He was technically correct; he did have that right. But to use it-Prominent males who were removed from their posts got into the Race's history, not only as object lessons for later generations but also because they were so rare. Atvar wanted fame from this mission, not notoriety.

He said, "a.s.sembled shiplords, the right of which Straha speaks pertains to males who have gone mad under the stress of their work or suffered some other mental debilitation. If we contemplated removing every male who ever met a reverse, we would soon have few males left to do anything."

"That is the ordinary standard, I admit," Straha shot back, "but the ordinary a.s.signment does not carry such a burden of responsibility. If a transport planner back on Home fails, goods may be delivered late, to the annoyance of those who receive them. If the fleetlord fails here, however, our conquest of this planet fails with him. Less inept.i.tude is tolerable from him than from a male of lower rank."

Shiplords commanded their inferior and obeyed the fleetlord. They seldom found themselves in a gathering of equals, and even more seldom in a gathering of equals where they were called upon to decide something both vital and highly irregular. The Race shied away from irregularity wherever it could, one more thing that left it ill-prepared for a world as regularly irregular as Tosev 3.

Because the males had little practice at debate, they weren't very good at it. Straha's supporters shouted and hissed at those who backed Atvar, and the fleetlord's followers returned the compliment. They displayed their rows of pointed teeth, shoved one another, and generally behaved more like new hatchlings than staid males of respectable years.

Quietly, Kirel said, "Exalted Fleetlord, the rule in such cases is that three-fourths of the males in the rank immediately inferior to that in question must concur that its present holder is incompetent to remain at his post."

"By the Emperor, I am not incompetent!" Atvar raged.

"I did not for a moment a.s.sert that you were, Exalted Fleetlord," Kirel said, "but the question has been put in proper form and now must be decided."

Atvar's suspicions doubled, then doubled again. But formality trapped him. He knew the rules for deciding the matter, though he'd never really expected to have to use them. "Very well, Shiplord," he said, hating every word. "Since you are next senior to me but were not personally involved in raising the question, I yield control of the meeting to you until it is settled. Be a.s.sured I shall appeal to the Emperor any action taken against me."

"Of course, Exalted Fleetlord," Kirel said politely, although he, Atvar, and all the a.s.sembled shiplords knew the warning was meaningless. Back on Home, an appeal to the Emperor would be heard promptly. On Rabotev 2 and Halless 1, the Emperor's viceroys performed that duty. But from here, a radio signal would take more than ten even of Tosev 3's long years to reach Home, while another ten of them would pa.s.s awaiting a reply. Effectively, Atvar was the Emperor's viceroy on Tosev 3, or would be if he retained his post.

Making no effort to hide his anger, he stepped away from the podium. Rather nervously, Kirel said, "a.s.sembled shiplords, we are gathered now in the most solemn proceeding known to the Race. We may answer the question of the exalted fleetlord's fitness to continue in office in one of two ways: either each male may enter an anonymous yes or no at his seat, the result to be displayed electronically here, or we may publicly record each shiplord's name and choice. How say you?"

He knows the rule very well to bring it out so pat, Atvar thought. Had Kirel been loyal to him, or simply more cautious than Straha? Atvar would have to contemplate that... if he remained in any position to act on the results of his contemplation. Atvar thought. Had Kirel been loyal to him, or simply more cautious than Straha? Atvar would have to contemplate that... if he remained in any position to act on the results of his contemplation.

Straha said, "Let it be done anonymously, Superior Shiplord. That way, should the question fail"-he did not sound as if he expected it to-"the exalted fleetlord will not be in a position to take vengeance on those who questioned his competence."

You'll get more support that way, too, from males who would be ashamed to condemn me openly, Atvar thought. In a way, though, that rea.s.sured him: had Straha been certain of his backing, he would have asked for a public record of names. Atvar thought. In a way, though, that rea.s.sured him: had Straha been certain of his backing, he would have asked for a public record of names. And no matter that the choice is anonymous, Straha: I'll remember what And no matter that the choice is anonymous, Straha: I'll remember what you've you've done. done.

Kirel waited for any males who so desired to insist on a public record. When none did, he said, "Very well, a.s.sembled shiplords, register your choices. When the tally is complete, I shall announce the result."

Atvar did his best to look impa.s.sive, no matter how he writhed inside. Being subjected to this tribunal of his inferiors was humiliating. It was worse than humiliating, in fact: it reminded him of the way some of the Big Ugly not-empires tried to run their affairs. The Race had expected, had intended, to bring civilization to Tosev 3. Instead, the Tosevites seemed to be barbarizing not only the shiplords but all the males of the conquest fleet.

Time stretched. After what seemed like forever, Kirel said, "a.s.sembled shiplords, I shall now announce your decision." Atvar stayed outwardly unconcerned, or tried to. Straha leaned forward in eager antic.i.p.ation. The great hall grew as still as Atvar had ever known it; not a male wished to miss the result.

"a.s.sembled shiplords," Kirel said, "those favoring the removal of the fleetlord Atvar from his post const.i.tute sixty-nine percent of your number, those favoring his retention const.i.tute thirty-one percent. This fails to be a three-fourths majority." He turned to Atvar. "Command us, Exalted Fleetlord."

Atvar walked back to the podium. He looked out at the a.s.sembled shiplords, and they back at him. Command us, Command us, Kirel had said. Even with the Race's traditions of obedience, could he command these males when two out of three of them had declared he was not fit to do so? He would have to find out. Kirel had said. Even with the Race's traditions of obedience, could he command these males when two out of three of them had declared he was not fit to do so? He would have to find out.

And how was he supposed to treat the Big Uglies, now that they could do serious damage not only to the Race but also to their precious planet? Before, negotiations had either been about small-scale procedural matters like treatment and exchange of prisoners or over terms of surrender to the Race. Now... he'd have to find that out, too.

Vyacheslav Molotov hated flying. He reckoned going in a drafty biplane to Germany and then on a later air trip to England among the worst experiences of his life. But flying in a human-made airplane, however appalling that was, paled to insignificance beside taking off in a Lizard rocket ship to zoom up into outer s.p.a.ce to talk with the commander of the imperialist aggressors from the stars.

He'd done that once before, so this time he'd known what to expect: the acceleration that pushed him back against the too-small padded seat and squeezed the air from his lungs; the sudden moment of transition, after which he seemed to weigh nothing at all and had to control his stomach as rigidly as he always controlled his face; the Saharalike temperatures the Lizards found comfortable. He'd prepared for that, at least, wearing a light cotton suit instead of his usual thick wool.

Even so, he was still sweating as he faced the fleetlord Atvar. A couple of small drops had escaped from his forehead and floated around the chamber in which he, the leader of the Lizards, and a Lizard interpreter hung at various improbable angles. The Lizards took their weightlessness utterly for granted, so he tried his best to do the same.

Atvar spoke several sentences in the Lizards' language of hisses, pops, and clicks. The interpreter turned them into Russian: "The exalted fleetlord says you were most rash to use an atomic bomb against the Race, when we could turn so many of these weapons against you."

Molotov had told Stalin the same thing-had, in fact, argued harder against using the atomic bomb than he'd dared argue with Stalin about anything else for years. But Stalin had overruled him, and no rain of destruction had fallen on the Soviet Union-yet. Instead, the Lizards had summoned him here to confer. Maybe that meant Stalin was right all along.

Such thoughts ran through the foreign commissar's mind as he asked the interpreter to repeat a couple of things he hadn't quite understood. His face remained expressionless. He nodded to the interpreter to show he'd caught the gist this time. The Lizard was much more fluent than he had been on Molotov's previous trip to this immense s.p.a.cecraft not quite a year before.

"Tell the exalted fleetlord the Race was rash to attack the peace-loving peasants and workers of the Soviet Union," Molotov answered. "Perhaps the means we used to repel you will show you how true this is."

"Perhaps," Atvar said through the interpreter. "And then again, Vyacheslav Mikhailovich, perhaps not. We know you made this bomb with the quant.i.ty of element 94 you stole from us. Do not try to deny it; our a.n.a.lysis leaves no room for doubt. When will you be able to produce bombs altogether on your own?"

"If you renew your treacherous attacks on us, I a.s.sure you that you will find out, and that the answer will not please you," Molotov said without hesitation. Again, his features showed nothing of the fear he felt. The true answer to that question was on the order of three years. on the order of three years. If the Lizards learned the true answer, the Soviet Union was hideously vulnerable to them. If the Lizards learned the true answer, the Soviet Union was hideously vulnerable to them.

His prompt reply seemed to give Atvar pause. He was relieved to see that, and even more relieved when the fleetlord partially changed the subject: "Do you not realize you destroy your own planet when you use atomic weapons?"

"That did not stop you when you bombed Berlin and Washington," Molotov retorted. "Why did you think it would concern us? And if you win this imperialist war against mankind, Earth will no longer be our our planet in any case. Of course we shall use all our weapons to resist you." planet in any case. Of course we shall use all our weapons to resist you."

"This course can lead only to your own destruction," Atvar said.

I think you may be right. But Molotov's demeanor would not have shown his wife what he was thinking, let alone a Lizard. He said, "We know you have enslaved two races already, and want us to become the third. We know you have kept those other races under subjection for thousands of years, and that you plot the same fate for us. Since all this is true, and since you have not even tried to deny it is true, how can destroying ourselves be worse?" But Molotov's demeanor would not have shown his wife what he was thinking, let alone a Lizard. He said, "We know you have enslaved two races already, and want us to become the third. We know you have kept those other races under subjection for thousands of years, and that you plot the same fate for us. Since all this is true, and since you have not even tried to deny it is true, how can destroying ourselves be worse?"

"You would keep your lives, some of your private property-" Atvar began.

Even stone-faced as he normally was, even in the Lizards' power, even floating in hideously unfamiliar weightlessness, Molotov burst out laughing. It took him by surprise; it also seemed to take the Lizard fleetlord and his interpreter by surprise. Molotov said, "There is no private property in the Soviet Union; private property is the result of theft. The state owns the means of production."

Atvar and the interpreter went back and forth in their own language for a little while. When they were done, the interpreter swiveled his eyes back toward Molotov and said, "The full meaning of the concept you describe escapes us."

"I understand that," Molotov answered. "It is because the cla.s.s struggle in your society has not progressed to the point where the dialectic of the transition from capitalism to socialism is above your mental horizon."

As best he could, the translator rendered that into the Lizards' language. The fleetlord Atvar made a noise that might well have come from the safety valve of a powerful steam engine. Through the interpreter, he said, "You dare, you presume, Tosevite, to call the Race Race primitive?" His mouth fell open in a Lizard laugh. primitive?" His mouth fell open in a Lizard laugh.

"In your system of social organization? Certainly," Molotov said.

Despite the confidence with which he imbued his voice, he felt the paradox, for the Lizards' technical achievements were anything but primitive. The Soviets called them imperialists, but he did not think they were out to conquer the Earth for the sake of developing new markets, as highly advanced capitalist states had done in the past few generations to delay the inevitable proletarian revolution. The Lizards' society seemed more like that of the ancient empires, with masters ruling slaves and exploiting their labor. But the economic system of the ancient empires had been a.s.sumed to be incompatible with developing advanced technology. Marxist-Leninist theoreticians were still hammering out where the Lizards fit into the historical dialectic.

Atvar was laughing at him again, perhaps for his presumption. The fleetlord said, "Well, we care nothing for what you Tosevites think of our arrangements, and I did not summon you here to discuss them. You have made this war more dangerous for us; I do not deny that. But you have also made it more dangerous for yourselves. If you think we will hold back from responding in kind, you are badly mistaken."

"That was not our concern," Molotov answered. That was not Stalin's concern, anyhow. That was not Stalin's concern, anyhow. "We shall do what we think best, depending on the circ.u.mstances in which we find ourselves. Withdraw your forces from the Soviet Union and you will be in no more danger from us." "We shall do what we think best, depending on the circ.u.mstances in which we find ourselves. Withdraw your forces from the Soviet Union and you will be in no more danger from us."

Atvar laughed again, not, Molotov thought, pleasantly. "This cannot be. I show my mercy by not treating you as a criminal, since your rulers came to power through murdering your emperor."

The fleetlord and the translator both showed what looked like genuine revulsion. The version Atvar gave of what had happened in the Soviet Union wasn't strictly accurate, but Molotov didn't argue the niceties with him. The Bolsheviks had done what they had to do to stay in power; to do anything less would have been to betray the workers and common soldiers and sailors who had helped them overthrow their cla.s.s enemies in the Kerensky regime.

Aloud, Molotov said, "One day, when you have advanced sufficiently, you will do the same."

If the two Lizards had been revolted before, now they were furious. Again, they made noises that reminded Molotov of a samovar boiling with the fire too high. Atvar spat words. The interpreter proved his fluency had improved by turning them into precise, insulting Russian: "You Big Uglies are the most uncultured, odious creatures anyone could ever have imagined, and you Soviets the most uncultured and odious of the Big Uglies. To suggest such a thing-" Atvar started bubbling and sputtering again.

Molotov took no notice of the insults, but in weightlessness his gla.s.ses kept trying to escape from his nose. When he had secured them, he said, "We do not love one another. This much I already knew. Did you summon me here merely to remind me of it, or did you have serious diplomatic proposals to put to me?"

He granted Atvar a moment of professional respect when the fleetlord did return to business: "I summoned you here to warn you that under no circ.u.mstances will we tolerate any further use of nuclear weapons by any Tosevite empire, and that we reserve the right to retaliate as we see fit."

"I can speak only for the Soviet Union, whose peace-loving workers and peasants must of course reject demands made at gunpoint," Molotov answered. "We also reserve the right to retaliate as we see fit, especially since your forces invaded our land without reason or declaration of war. I can predict, though, that other nations will respond similarly."

"Other empires-" Atvar let that hang in the air for a few seconds before resuming: "Other Tosevite empires are also working on nuclear weapons; of this we are certain. How can you be a.s.sured that they will use these weapons against us rather than you? The Deutsche, for instance, are already developing rockets which could carry them."

Molotov almost betrayed himself by bursting into laughter again. The Lizard was trying to sow rivalry among his human enemies, which would have been far from the worst of ploys if he hadn't been so obvious-and so bad-at the game. Even Ribbentrop would have seen through it.

"Before you came, Germany and the Soviet Union were enemies, true," Molotov said. "Germany and the United States were enemies, Germany and Great Britain were enemies, j.a.pan and Great Britain were enemies, j.a.pan and the United States were enemies. We are enemies among ourselves no more-you are more dangerous to all of us than we were to one another."

For once, diplomacy and truth came together. Men fought each other on more or less even terms. The Lizards were far ahead of all human nations. Go under to them and you would never come up again. Even Hitler, wretched madman that he was, recognized the truth there.

Atvar said, "Surely you realize this struggle is futile for you."

"Cla.s.s struggle is the engine of the historical dialectic," Molotov answered. "It is never futile."

"I understand these words one by one, Vyacheslav Mikhailovich, but not their full meaning together," the interpreter said. "How shall I render them for the exalted fleetlord?"