Spartan Planet - A. Bertram Chandler [17]
And what did Andronicus import?
Diomedes might know.
Finishing his meal, Brasidus wandered into the recreation hall. He bought a mug of sweet wine from the steward on duty, sat down to watch television. There was the news first—but there was no mention of the landing of Seeker III. Fair enough. The Council had still to decide what to say about it as well as what to do about it. The main coverage was of the minor war in progress between Pharis and Messenia. Peisander, the Messenian general, was something of an innovator. Cleombrotus of Pharis was conservative, relying upon his hoplites to smash through the Messenian lines, and his casualties, under the heavy fire of the Messenian archers, were heavy. There were those who maintained that the bow should be classed as a firearm and its use forbidden to the ordinary soldiery, those not in the Police Battalion. Of course, if the hoplites, with their spears and swords, got loose among the archers, there would be slaughter. Against that, the archers, lightly armored, far less encumbered, could run much faster. The commentator, hovering above the battlefield, made this same comment, and Brasidus congratulated himself upon his grasp of military principles.
Following the news came a coverage of the games at Helos. Brasidus watched the wrestling bouts for a while, then got up and left the hall. After all, the games were no more than a substitute for war—and war, to every Spartan worth his salt, was the only sport for a man. Nonlethal sports were only for helots.
Finding the duty orderly, the Sergeant gave instructions to be called at 2330 hours.
He was almost at the crèche when he saw a slight form ahead of him. He quickened his pace, overtook the other pedestrian. As he had thought it would be, it was Achron.
The nurse was pleased to see him. He said, "I rang the barracks, Brasidus, and they told me that you were on duty all day."
"I was, but I'm off the hook now."
"You were at the spaceport, weren't you? Is it true that this ship is from outside, with a crew of monsters?"
"Just a ship," Brasidus told him.
"But the monsters?"
"What monsters?"
"Horribly deformed beings from outer space. Mutants."
"Well, Diomedes and myself were entertained on board by the commander, and he's human enough."
"More than you can say for Diomedes," commented Achron spitefully. "I used to like him once, but not any more. Not after what he did."
"What did he do?"
"I'll tell you sometime. Are you coming in, Brasidus?"
"Why not?"
"Telemachus will be pleased. He was saying to me what a fine example you are to the average Spartan."
"Back again, Sergeant?" the old man greeted him. "I shall soon think that you would welcome a return to the bad old days of budding."
"Hardly," said Brasidus, trying to visualize the difficulties that would be experienced in the use of weapons when encumbered by undetached offspring.
"And were you out at the spaceport today, Brasidus?"
"Yes."
"What are they really like, these monsters?"
"Captain Diomedes bound us all to secrecy."
"A pity. A pity. If you were to tell me what you saw, it would never go beyond the walls of this building."
"I'm sorry, Telemachus. You'll just have to wait until the news is released by the Council."
"The Council." The old man laughed bitterly. "In my day there were men of imagination serving on it. But now . . ." He looked up at the wall clock. "Well, in you go. Phillip is waiting for his relief. He was most unpleasant when he discovered that I had detained you this time yesterday."
Brasidus followed his friend to the ward where he was on duty. This time Phillip was in a better mood—and he, too,