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| Cover art uncredited |
| FIRST CYCLE H. Beam Piper Michael Kurland New York: Ace Books, January 1982 |
Rating: 5.0 High |
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| ISBN-13 978-0-441-23919-1 | ||||
| ISBN-10 0-441-23919-6 | 201pp. | SC | $2.25 | |
A single planet, sundered in the distant past by a stellar cataclysm into two roughly equal bodies near the size of Earth. They circled the star Elektra in similar orbits, and both were tidally locked to it so that only one hemisphere of each was ever visible to observers on the other. Over time, both developed ecosystems with dominant mammalian species, similar in size and capabilities but radically different in psyches. Those of Hetaira were pragmatic, curious, and utterly free of the need for government or religion. In sharp contrast, Thalassa spawned a race both superstitious and deceitful.
Thalassa had a long and bloody history of religious conflicts and wars of conquest, a history much like our own. Finally, a worldwide feudal theocracy took power. It called itself the Organic State, because the central idea was that the most of its people were suited only to fulfill their assigned functions, like body cells, while the leaders and professional people took the role of brain cells. (So far, we have avoided that beknighted state.)
On Hetaira, the pragmatic nature of its people fostered the earlier development of science and technology and a general absence of warfare. Fighting and killing occurred, but at the personal level, to punish theft or bullying, and at the group level over access to resources. Such incidents were the exception, since openness and cooperation were cultural norms.
Gradually, over millennia, the two peoples became aware of one another. The Hetairans were first; noticing through telescopes fires that they thought were due to volcanoes, but soon realized they resulted from war. In time they developed spaceships and observed Thalassa at close range, finally landing three shuttles from a mothership while a fourth circled overhead providing cover. The Thalassans were mightily impressed by the superior technology — and mightily determined to match it, because they could not abide any group they did not dominate. Still, the Hetairan soul was utterly incomprehensible to them.
The priest nodded. "Their language, if we are to believe what they tell us, lacks terms for the fundamental social relationships of authority, or regulation, or even law." "And yet," Skrov-Rogov said, gesturing toward the landing field, from which one of the shuttles was thrusting itself into the atmosphere, climbing its ladder of flame, "they have developed a culture which has produced that. What sort of culture had we before the Citizen-Originator Dov-Soglov and the Citizen-First Controller Zov-Zolkov? Guns that loaded at the muzzle with loose powder; wretchedly inefficient steam-turbines; no telephones or radio or electric power. Why, all that we have accomplished was accomplished under the Organic State, and yet these creatures, far in advance of our science, claim that they have no equivalent to the Organic State. Worse; they claim they possess no equivalent to the state! Their condition, they would have us think, is more anarchic than any in recorded history." He used an oath at which the priest frowned. "Can we believe them? And, more to the point, Citizen-Priest, dare we believe them?"" – Page 168 |
With characteristic openness, the Hetairans continued to meet with the people of "Shining Sister," as they called Thalassa. But no matter how much they tried to explain their mode of thinking to the Thalassans, it never sank in. And no matter how generous they were with technology, the Organic State always wanted more. The leaders of the Organic State sent thieves to steal Hetairan technology; the thieves were shot. They sent missionaries; the missionaries were laughed at. They converted the missionaries into spies; the spies got nowhere. They tried fomenting dissent. They failed, of course. They failed at everything they tried; but still they kept on trying. Mutual worldwide hostility was the inevitable result. It did not end well.1
The book is well written and forms an engrossing tale. There are one or two passages where developments seem to spring into being without precursors, like Athena from the brow of Zeus.2 But these do not much detract from the flow of the story. Full marks.
Piper killed himself with a handgun in late 1964. The reasons are disputed. The manuscript for this novel was found among his effects. Michael Kurland ably completed it. The only other work of Piper's I have read is the short story "Last Enemy." I'll have to expand that list.
To contact Chris Winter, send email to this address.