natives how to use farm tools, not to organize a—” he fumbled for a word.
“Civil defense force!” supplied Anita.
“Civil defense …” he goggled at her through the increasing darkness.
“Why not? That’s as good a name for it as any!” she whispered, briskly. “Now, will you listen and learn a few things you don’t know? I said this started out like an ordinary project. The Lowland Dilbians here at Muddy Nose come from fifty or sixty different Upland clans. They don’t have the clan organization, therefore, and they don’t have any Grandfathers of the Clan, to exert a conservative control over the way they think and act. Also, they don’t have the Upland Dilbian’s idea that it’s sissy to use tools or weapons. So it looked like they were just the community to let us demonstrate to the mountain Dilbians that tools and technology in general could raise more crops, build better buildings, and everything else—start them on the road to modem civilization.”
“And, incidentally, make them closer friends of ours than they are of the Hemnoids,” put in Bill skeptically.
“That, too, of course,” said Anita. “At least, if the Dilbians have some knowledge of modem technology, they’ll be better able to understand the psychological difference between us and the Hemnoids. We’re betting that if we can raise their mean technological level, they’ll want to be partners with us. The Hemnoids don’t want them to become technologically sophisticated. They’d rather take the Dilbians into the Hemnoid sphere of influence, now while they’re still safely primitive and they’d have to be technologically dependent.”
“You were going,” pointed out Bill, “to tell me something I didn’t know.”
“I am, if you’ll listen!” whispered Anita fiercely. “When we started to make a success of this project, the Hemnoids moved to counter it. They sent in Mula- ay , one of their best agents—”
“Agents?” echoed Bill. He had suspected it, of course, but finding himself undeniably up against a highly trained alien agent sent an abruptly cold shiver snaking its way between his shoulder blades.
“That’s what I said. Agent. And Mula- ay didn’t lose any time in taking advantage of the one local condition which could frustrate the project. He moved in with the outlaws, here, and pointed out to them that the more the villagers could produce from their farms, the more surplus the outlaws would be able to take from them. The outlaws only take what the farmers can spare, you know. Dilbian custom is very strict on that, even without Grandfathers—”
“I know,” muttered Bill impatiently. “Why wasn’t I told about the Hemnoid being here and being an agent, though? None of the hypnoed information mentioned it.”
“Lafe was supposed to brief you after you got here—that’s what he told me, anyway,” she said, in so low a voice that he could hardly hear her. “The Hemnoids are too good at intercepting and decoding interstellar transmissions for the information I’m giving you now to be sent out for inclusion in ordinary hypno tapes. The point is that word of what Mula- ay told the outlaws got back from the outlaws to the villagers, and the villagers began to ask themselves what was the point of using tools, if making a better living simply meant making a better living for the outlaws. You see, the outlaws go around collecting their so-called tax and the Muddy Nosers can’t stop them.”
“Why not?” asked Bill. “There must be more of them than there are of outlaws—”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” whispered Anita. “There are more of them than there are of outlaws. But without a clan structure they won’t combine, and the outlaws raid one farm at a time and take whatever the farmer has to spare. The farmer doesn’t even fight for his property—for one thing he’s always outnumbered. For another, most of them rather admire the outlaws.”
“Admire
“Civil defense force!” supplied Anita.
“Civil defense …” he goggled at her through the increasing darkness.
“Why not? That’s as good a name for it as any!” she whispered, briskly. “Now, will you listen and learn a few things you don’t know? I said this started out like an ordinary project. The Lowland Dilbians here at Muddy Nose come from fifty or sixty different Upland clans. They don’t have the clan organization, therefore, and they don’t have any Grandfathers of the Clan, to exert a conservative control over the way they think and act. Also, they don’t have the Upland Dilbian’s idea that it’s sissy to use tools or weapons. So it looked like they were just the community to let us demonstrate to the mountain Dilbians that tools and technology in general could raise more crops, build better buildings, and everything else—start them on the road to modem civilization.”
“And, incidentally, make them closer friends of ours than they are of the Hemnoids,” put in Bill skeptically.
“That, too, of course,” said Anita. “At least, if the Dilbians have some knowledge of modem technology, they’ll be better able to understand the psychological difference between us and the Hemnoids. We’re betting that if we can raise their mean technological level, they’ll want to be partners with us. The Hemnoids don’t want them to become technologically sophisticated. They’d rather take the Dilbians into the Hemnoid sphere of influence, now while they’re still safely primitive and they’d have to be technologically dependent.”
“You were going,” pointed out Bill, “to tell me something I didn’t know.”
“I am, if you’ll listen!” whispered Anita fiercely. “When we started to make a success of this project, the Hemnoids moved to counter it. They sent in Mula- ay , one of their best agents—”
“Agents?” echoed Bill. He had suspected it, of course, but finding himself undeniably up against a highly trained alien agent sent an abruptly cold shiver snaking its way between his shoulder blades.
“That’s what I said. Agent. And Mula- ay didn’t lose any time in taking advantage of the one local condition which could frustrate the project. He moved in with the outlaws, here, and pointed out to them that the more the villagers could produce from their farms, the more surplus the outlaws would be able to take from them. The outlaws only take what the farmers can spare, you know. Dilbian custom is very strict on that, even without Grandfathers—”
“I know,” muttered Bill impatiently. “Why wasn’t I told about the Hemnoid being here and being an agent, though? None of the hypnoed information mentioned it.”
“Lafe was supposed to brief you after you got here—that’s what he told me, anyway,” she said, in so low a voice that he could hardly hear her. “The Hemnoids are too good at intercepting and decoding interstellar transmissions for the information I’m giving you now to be sent out for inclusion in ordinary hypno tapes. The point is that word of what Mula- ay told the outlaws got back from the outlaws to the villagers, and the villagers began to ask themselves what was the point of using tools, if making a better living simply meant making a better living for the outlaws. You see, the outlaws go around collecting their so-called tax and the Muddy Nosers can’t stop them.”
“Why not?” asked Bill. “There must be more of them than there are of outlaws—”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” whispered Anita. “There are more of them than there are of outlaws. But without a clan structure they won’t combine, and the outlaws raid one farm at a time and take whatever the farmer has to spare. The farmer doesn’t even fight for his property—for one thing he’s always outnumbered. For another, most of them rather admire the outlaws.”
“Admire
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