Striking the Balance

Stalin’s eyes glowed. “So long as we do not lose the war, Comrade Foreign Commissar, do you not think it likely we will win the peace?”

Molotov considered that. Not for nothing had Stalin kept his grip on power in the Soviet Union for more than two decades. Yes, he had shortcomings. Yes, he made mistakes. Yes, you were utterly mad if you pointed them out to him. But, most of the time, he had an uncArmy knack for finding the balance of power, for judging which side was stronger-or could become so.

“May it be as you say,” Molotov answered.

Atvar hadn’t known such excitement since the last time he’d smelled the pheromones of a female during mating season. Maybe ginger tasters knew something of his exhilaration. If they did, he came closer to forgiving them for their destructive addiction than he ever had before.

He turned one eye turret toward Kirel and away from the reports and analyses still flowing across his computer screen. “At last!” he exclaimed. “Maybe I needed to come down to the surface of this planet to change our luck. That luck has been so cruel to us, it is time and past time for it to begin to even out. The death of the American not-emperor Roosevelt will surely propel our forces to victory in the northern region of the lesser continental mass.”

“Exalted Fleetlord, may it be as you say,” Kirel answered.

“May it be?May it be?” Atvar said indignantly. The air of this place called Egypt tasted strange in his mouth, but it was warm enough and dry enough to suit him-quite different from that of so much of this miserable world. “Of course it will be. It must be. The Big Uglies are so politically naive that events cannot but transpire as we wish.”

“We have been disappointed in our hopes here so many times, Exalted Fleetlord, that I hesitate to rejoice before a desired event actually does take place,” Kirel said.

“Sensible conservatism is good for the Race,” Atvar said, a truism if ever there was one. He needed Kirel’s conservatism; if Kirel had been a wild radical like Straha, he wouldn’t be fleetlord now. But he went on, “Consider the obvious, Shiplord: the United States is not an empire, is it?”

“Indeed not,” Kirel said; that was indisputable.

Atvar said, “And because it is not an empire, it by definition cannot have the stable political arrangements we enjoy, now can it?”

“That would seem to follow from the first,” Kirel admitted, caution in his voice.

“Just so!” Atvar said joyfully. “And this United States has fallen under the rule of the not-emperor called Roosevelt. Thanks in part to him, the American Tosevites have maintained a steadfast resistance to our forces. Truth?”

“Truth,” Kirel said.

“And what follows from this truth does so as inevitably as a statement in a geometric proof springs from its immediate predecessor,” Atvar said. “Roosevelt is now dead. Can his successor take his place as smoothly as one Emperor succeeds another? Can his successor’s authority be quickly and smoothly recognized as legitimate? Without a preordained imperial succession, how is this possible? My answer is that it is impossible, that the American Tosevites are likely to undergo some severe disorders before this Hull, the Big Ugly who claims authority, is able to exercise it. If he ever is. So also state our political analysts who have been studying Tosevite societies since the beginning of our campaign here.”

“This does seem to be reasonable,” Kirel said, “but reason is not always a governing factor in Tosevite affairs. For instance, do I not remember that the American Big Uglies are among the minority who attempt to govern their affairs by counting the snouts of those for and against various matters of interest to them?”

Atvar had to glance back through the reports to see whether the shiplord was right When he had checked, he said, “Yes, that appears to be so. What of it?”

“Some of these not-empires use snoutcounting to confer legitimacy on leaders in the same way we use the imperial succession,” Kirel answered. “This may tend to minimize the disruption that will arise in the United States as a result of the loss of Roosevelt.”

“Ah, I see your point,” Atvar said. “Here, though, it is not valid; Roosevelt’s viceregent, a male named Wallace, also chosen through the snoutcounting farce, has predeceased him: he died in our bombing of Seattle. No not-empirewide snoutcounting has ever been perpetrated for this Hull. He must surely be reckoned an illegitimate usurper. Perhaps other would-be rulers of America will rise in various regions of the not-empire to contest his claim.”

“If that comes to pass, it would indeed be excellent,” Kirel said. “I admit, it does fit with what we know of Tosevite history and behavior patterns. But we have been disappointed so often with regard to the Big Uglies, I find optimism hard to muster these days.”