Donald Moffitt - Genesis 01

passengers on this tree into shape, and he’ll have the two human bases on the mining world to work from. He says the key is speed and surprise. He says he can take over before the Nar realize what’s happening.”
    “Kerthin, what is this?” Marg said peevishly. “How do you know about these things?”
    Orris was staring at Kerthin and Bram. Bram set his lips in a grim line and turned back to Kerthin.
    “Penser can’t get away with it,” Bram said. “How many people has he got here? Not much over a thousand, even if he got everybody on the tree to go along with him. How many people on this mining world? Another few hundred? A thousand? He’s got the whole Nar population of Ilf to contend with. To say nothing of the billions of Nar inhabiting the Father World and the other bodies of this primary, only light-hours away. They’ll remove Penser and his gang like a—a plant wart and keep him under hasp and bolt for the rest of his days.”
    Kerthin shook her head stubbornly. “He’s explained it all. By the time the Nar decide to act, it will all be over. There will be a human community on an unimportant little world, threatening nobody. There will be a few thousand Nar prisoners, well treated, who will be allowed to leave in an orderly fashion—provided Penser’s demands are met. Penser will show that he’s willing to be … reasonable.” She bit her lip. “There’ll have been a few deaths and injuries, of course—that’s inevitable. Both human and Nar. And that will serve as a warning. The Nar won’t want to risk any further … difficulties. Penser says the Nar commonwealth will accept the situation. They’ll let the humans have their one little world. They’ll even help us with food and technical equipment while we’re trying to get on our feet. It will be a problem that is solved. A problem that is over.”
    Bram could recognize Penser’s syntax in what Kerthin was mouthing so earnestly. He shook his head resignedly. “What then?”
    “Penser’s studied the ancient history of Original Man,” Kerthin said, eager to convince him. “Hitler, Napoleon, Alexander. Jones and the neoamerican takeover. Digest each bite before you take the next one. Let your opponents think each nibble is the last—not worth taking action against after the fact. Penser will build up his strength. Attract like-minded human immigrants. Step up the human breeding rate without bothering about gene editing. Reproductive autonomy! Bram, do you realize that the human population of the universe could be doubled in twenty years?”
    “And then?” he prodded.
    Her eyes were shining. “And then, human beings will have a power base. We’ll be ready for the next step. And the step after that. We can grow and expand, always on our own worlds, until we rule the universe for as far as we can reach in a human lifetime!”
    “But the Nar were here first,” Bram said. “Do we share it with them?”
    She scarcely heard him, caught in her secondhand vision. Her eyes strayed past him to the milling crowd up front.
    Marg was fretting. “Look at that! They’re trampling all the seedlings. Isn’t anyone going to stop them?”
    At the center of the great wooden bubble, Penser was still fielding questions but getting tired of it.
    “And what are the Nar going to be doing in the meantime?” demanded someone with a foolhardy edge of scorn in his voice. “Do you really think they’ll be willing to stand by and let a few people with sticks in their hands take a tree away from them?”
    “The Nar won’t be able to do anything about it,” Penser said. “By Tenhour tomorrow we’ll be beyond their reach.”
    “I’ve always gotten along well with my Nar supervisors,” said a querulous middle-aged man who looked like one of the visitors. “I don’t hold with this. I live a pretty good life here. What’s it going to be like on this new world of yours, I ask you?” He licked his lips nervously. “I’m not opposing you, you understand. No, sir. All I’m saying is I want to be sent back to Lowstation.”
    Penser’s voice dripped with scorn. “Who among you is so base as to willingly be a possession of another life form? Perhaps such parasites deserve their chains. And if you’re so worried about your comforts that you’re willing to lick the gullet of a tenfoot for them, then perhaps we can oblige you. We can push you out of an air lock and let you find your own way back to their so-called Father World.”
    But the