Adaptation | Page 8

way, Plekhanov and Chessman followed side by side
and the other Earthlings, their weapons unostentatiously ready, were
immediately behind. Mynor the priest, Taller's son and the other Tulan
officials brought up the rear.
In what was evidently the reception hall of Taller's official residence,
the newcomers were made as comfortable as fur padded low stools
provided. Half a dozen teenaged Tulans brought a cool drink similar to
coca; it seemed to give a slight lift.
Taller had not become Khan of the most progressive nation on Texcoco
by other than his own abilities. He felt his way carefully now. He had
no manner of assessing the powers wielded by these strangers from
space. He had no intention of precipitating a situation in which he
would discover such powers to his sorrow.
He said carefully, "You have indicated that you intend major changes
in the lives of the People."
"Of all Texcocans," Plekhanov said, "you Tulans are merely the
beginning."
Mynor, the aged priest, leaned forward. "But why? We do not want
these changes-whatever they may be.
Already the Khan has allowed you to interfere with our worship of our
gods. This will mean-"
Plekhanov growled, "Be silent, old man, and don't bother to mention,
ever again, your so-called gods. And now, all of you listen. Perhaps
some of this will not be new, how much history has come down to you

I don't know.
"A thousand years ago a colony of one hundred persons was left here
on Texcoco. It will one day be of scholarly interest to trace them down
through the centuries but at present the task does not interest us. This
expedition has been sent to recontact you, now that you have populated
Texcoco and made such adaptations as were necessary to survive here.
Our basic task is to modernize your society, to bring it to an
industrialized culture."
Plekhanov's eyes went to Taller's son. "I assume you are a soldier?"
Taller said, "This is Reif, my eldest, and by our custom, second in
command of the People's armies. As Khan, I am first."
Reif nodded coldly to Plekhanov. "I am a soldier." He hesitated for a
moment, then added, "And willing to die to protect the People."
"Indeed," Plekhanov rumbled, "as a soldier you will be interested to
know that our first step will involve the amalgamation of all the nations
and tribes of this planet. Not a small task. There should be opportunity
for you."
Taller said, "Surely you speak in jest. The People have been at war for
as long as scribes have records and never have we been stronger than
today, never larger. To conquer the world! Surely you jest."
Plekhanov grunted ungraciously. He looked to Barry Watson, a lanky
youth, now leaning negligently against the wall, his submachine gun,
however, at the easy ready. "Watson. you're our military expert. Have
you any opinions as yet?"
"Yes, sir," Watson said easily. "Until we can get iron weapons and
firearms into full production, I suggest the Macedonian phalanx for
their infantry. They have the horse, but evidently the wheel has gone
out of use. We'll introduce the chariot and also heavy carts to speed up
logistics. We'll bring in the stirruped saddle, too. I have available for
study, works on every cavalry leader from Tamerlane to Jeb Stuart. Yes,

sir, I have some ideas."
Plekhanov pursed his heavy lips. "From the beginnning we're going to
need manpower on a scale never dreamed of locally. We'll adopt a
policy of expansion. Those who join us freely will become members of
the State with full privileges. Those who resist will be made prisoners
of war and used for shock labor on the roads and in the mines. However,
a man works better if he has a goal, a dream. Each prisoner will be
freed and become a member of the State after ten years of such work."
He turned to his subordinates. "Roberts and Hawkins, you will begin
tomorrow to seek the nearest practical sources of iron ore and coal.
Wherever you discover them we'll direct our first military expeditions.
Chessman and Cogswell, you'll assemble their best artisans and begin
their training in such basic advancements as the wheel."
Taller said softly, "You speak of advancement but thus far you have
mentioned largely war and on such a scale that I wonder how many of
the People will survive. What advancement? We have all we wish."
Plekhanov cut him off with a curt motion of his hand. He indicated the
hieroglyphics on the chamber's walls. "How long does it take to learn
such writing?"
Mynor, the priest, said, "This is a mystery known only to the priesthood.
One spends ten years in preparation to be a scribe."
"We'll teach you a new method which will have every citizen