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are idmages held in our memories.
When the last Dreen dies, the universe dies."
A statement requiring no response.
Jongleur ruminated on the Supreme Tax Collector's words.
Why did it have to be my son who precipitated this crisis?
Habiba reached down and patted his head.
Jongleur looked up at her lovingly, Habiba in full sunlight was a green
goddess, her hair a salad of delights.
He took a deep breath, restored by her touch, and glanced around the cupola.
Once more, sadness engulfed him. The window frames were shedding black flakes
and the greenish-brown hardened vegetation at the base of the cupola needed
polishing. Habiba must approve each maintenance detail and, in the normal
course, these matters were cared for efficiently by useful manual labor and
idmaging. She had had other problems to occupy her attention of late, though,
and the cupola reflected neglect.
"Perhaps we are too curious about the unlimited possibilities in an unlimited
universe," Jongleur said.
"Who says it's unlimited?" Mugly demanded.
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"It is ample," Habiba said.
Jongleur considered this and thought then about the touristlike curiosity of
Dreens.
Overdeveloped curiosity! Dreens always wanted to go in person and see the
places, the creatures and marvels they had heard about in story form. Many
stories touched on Earth because Dreen
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millennia.
Variations on a theme.
It was an extremely popular place to visit but always presented that problem
of Free Will no Dreen seemed capable of changing.
Such a pretty planet, though, when you got away from the places the occupants
had contaminated and defaced with their constant disregard for consequences.
Why didn't the original idmage contain an injunction against fouling their own
nest? Mugly wanted to know.
Because that goes against Free Will, Jongleur explained.
None of this helped Habiba with a solution to the Earth problem. She had
tried sending representatives to approach the planet openly, using many
different shapes of ships and forms of life. But Earthers always shot first
with no apparent interest in the identity or purpose of visitors.
"Shoot first and ask questions afterward," was an Earther cliche.
We must believe it then, Habiba thought.
They would approach Dreenor that way, too. Guns blazing and bombs flying.
Our advanced technology would make them suspect we possess commensurate war
technology. They would fear us and try to exterminate us. How can we
possibly teach them that the absence of monstrous weaponry represents a more
advanced civilization?
"They already hold some of our people captive," Mugly reminded her.
"But they have none of our ships and do not know our location," Jongleur said.
"Ahhh, the Dreen pacifist tries to lull us," Mugly sneered.
"All Dreens are naturally pacifist," Habiba reminded him.
"Am I not a Dreen?" Mugly demanded.
"And you are more peaceful than you care to admit," Habiba said. "You merely
have a capacity for anger that does not appear very often in our people."
"Are you saying I am the product of a bad seed?"
"Mugly!"
"Sorry, Habiba. I do love you dearly."
"Sweet Mugly, try to smooth over your anger."
"But the Earther Zone Patrol holds ninety-one of our people and every time we
try to free them we lose more."
"The Zone Patrol is crafty because they were idmaged that way," Jongleur said.
"But they hold the prisoners separated, move them often and apparently keep
them under almost constant interrogation."
"They may not yet have seen the original Dreen form nor witnessed our full
idmaging capabilities,"
Jongleur said.
"Will your son change that?" Mugly asked.
"Whatever happens he does not have the secrets of our technology nor do any of
the prisoners.
Only you and Habiba and I share that precious knowledge."
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"Why do you think I didn't go racing off after my ship?"
"Your people took much on themselves to idmage such a ship," Habiba said.
"I have censured them severely and, as punishment, have ruled that none of
them may ever share your precious presence in a Thoughtcon!"
Because he had disconnected his most secret thoughts, Mugly believed this
untruth sincerely and, for a moment, was awed by the cruel severity of his own
anger.
For once, though, Jongleur agreed with him. "You were wise, Mugly. Your
action sends a salutary signal throughout Dreenor."
"But it teaches very little other than the severity of those who rule," Habiba
said. "And I doubt it will stop others from trying similar tricks."
Jongleur looked upward and, seeing the intense downward stare of Habiba's
round brown eyes, realized he was distracting her from developing a solution
to their crisis. The Supreme Tax
Collector's sensitive microneurons required serenity to perform at their best.
Jongleur swiveled his eyes inward and concentrated on transmitting serene
story thoughts. The others in the
Thoughtcon took their cue from him and reinforced the sense of serenity. Only
Mugly the Elder maintained a tiny jangling interference but it was so small
that Habiba alone could sense it.
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