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It should be taxiing over to the edge of the runway for the take-off run, but
the Zemnovarro's are having some kind of a hassle with some passengers. They
look like greenies. Probably claiming that their luggage has been searched,
judging by my experience with the breed."
Vandro twisted in his seat and looked forward along the direction his plane
was pointing. The big six-jet transport ahead of them was in the next slot for
the runway, but instead of the gangway stairs being pulled away, there were
fifteen green-skinned, green-
downed natives of Shining Sister gathered around the foot of the gangway.
While the transport rumbled in place, alternately puffing its jets, two of the
green-skins were gesticulating angrily as they argued with a couple of members
of the Zemnovarro Gang, while the rest stood in a clump. Only three of them
were armed; they would be members of the Organic State Police, each watching
the other two while all of them watched the rest.
This was typical of relations between the two planets and their races. He
remembered the first of Shining Sister's Children to visit his world. There
had been twelve, including
Skrov-Rogov. He and two others, members of the Organic State Police, had
brought weapons, the peculiarly-shaped automatics designed for a two-thumbed
hand, and had gone to considerable trouble to secrete them. They probably
thought they were succeeding, too, despite the tell-tale bulges in their
clothing, until one of their guides asked them why the others were not also
armed. None of them would go anywhere or do anything without the permission of
Skrov-Rogov. None of them would talk to any
Hetairan alone. As a result, they did everything in a clump.
They were given a tremendous ovation everywhere they went, and taken to see
everything of interest. They would go to tremendous lengths to learn, in
strange, sneaky ways, all sorts of things that they could have found out
simply by asking. When they were about to go back, one of their pieces of
luggage had broken open and it was revealed stuffed with notes and books of
all sorts of scientific and technical information.
They went into a panic of discovery, which amazed the Hetairans, who, in turn
tried to convince them that they didn't care; that the Thalassans were free to
take back whatever they wished. Which amazed the Thalassans even more.
"They're always screaming that we're searching their luggage," the girl
sitting beside
Vandro said. "They never have gotten it inside their heads that we don't care
where they come or go, or what they take as long as they pay for it."
"Maybe it would be a good idea to search their luggage occasionally," Vandro
said.
"We'd find out what they're so afraid of, and give more of an air of reality
to their fears."
"That's the lot from Zagannos' Landing," another of his companions said. "Four
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of them wouldn't go back; said they'd rather stay on a decent world and dig
ditches for a living. So the Zagannos took them in, of course. That's what the
rest are so sore about."
That had started early in the course of interplanetary relations, too. A
member of the second group of visitors from Shining Sister had eluded the
Organic State Police guards and taken refuge with a lumbering gang in the
mountains.
When his absence was discovered, the others had demanded the right to go back
and get him. They were amazed when they were told that they were free to go
wherever they liked, including back after their wandering planet-mate. They
were never able to quite believe that, and always behaved as though they
thought it was some kind of trap. And then when they went back to the
lumbering gang and demanded their man, they were turned away at rifle point.
Krav-Torov himself demanded the fugitive's return, and was quite incredulous
when informed that, if he couldn't get him out, then nobody else could.
By this time the attitude of the Organic State was becoming more
understandable.
Krav-Torov and his government feared that contact with the Hetairans would
spread dissatisfaction with the Organic State and doubt of the Puzzan Creed
among his people.
Sanity, it would appear, was a dangerously contagious disease. The whole
situation, and the behavior of Krav-Torov, became most understandable when
viewed by analogy to the quarantines established by the ranching gangs of the
plains during the recurring cattle-
plagues.
Trade, of course, was difficult under such circumstances. On Thalassa, only
the
Organic State was allowed to buy or sell, or even own, commodities in bulk.
And the
Organic State had to be watched with two unblinking eyes if you were going to
deal with it. Every grain of cereal had to be counted, every bag of produce
weighed and smelled before it could be accepted. Business ethics, it seemed,
were not a part of the Organic
State.
For a long time Krav-Torov believed, in spite of repeated denials and
extensive explanations, that the Shining Sister Combine was a government like
his own. It was not until the Zaganno Gang built a space-ship of their own and
began trading in direct competition with the Shining Sister Combine that he
learned otherwise.
Then he got the bright idea of having his agents try to foment trouble between
the
Zagannos and the Combine, but they couldn't seem to get a handle on it. The
charges that they whispered in appropriate ears were so ridiculous that,
instead of believing them, one gang would call the other to chortle, "Say,
what do you suppose a green-skin told me you boys were up to today?"
Then the agents of the Organic State got the bright idea of trying to break
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