The colonel was regarding him thoughtfully; Pola, apprehensively, yet, somehow, joyfully.
The colonel said, "Well, Dr. Arvardan, we seem to have had an unpleasant contretemps in the city this evening."
Dr. Arvardan. Pola realized the little she knew about him, not even his occupation...She had never felt quite like this.
Arvardan laughed shortly. "Unpleasant, you say. I consider that a rather inadequate adjective."
"You have broken the arm of an officer of the Empire about the performance of his duty."
"That officer struck me first. His duty in no way included the necessity for grossly insulting me, both verbally and physically. In doing so he forfeited any claim he might have to treatment as an officer and gentleman. As a free citizen of the Empire, I had every right to resent such cavalier, not to say illegal, treatment."
The colonel harumphed and seemed at a loss for words. Pola stared at both of them with wide, unbelieving eyes.
Finally the colonel said softly, "Well, I need not say that I consider the whole incident to have been unfortunate. Apparently the pain and indignity involved have been equally spread on both sides. It may be best to forget this matter."
"Forget? I think not. I have been a guest at the Pro. curator's palace, and he may be interested in hearing exactly in what manner his garrison maintains order on Earth."
"Now, Dr. Arvardan, if I assure you that you will receive a public apology-"
"To hell with that. What do you intend doing with Miss Shekt?"
"What would you suggest?"
"That you free her instantly, return her papers, and tender your apologies-right now."
The colonel reddened, then said with an effort, "Of course." He turned to Pola. "If the young lady will accept my deepest regrets..."
They had left the dark garrison walls behind them. It had been a short and silent ten-minute air-taxi ride to the city proper, and now they stood at the deserted blackness of the Institute. It was past midnight.
Pola said, "I don't think I quite understand. You must be very important. It seems silly of me not to know your name. I didn't ever imagine that Outsiders could treat an Earthman so."
Arvardan felt oddly reluctant and yet compelled to end the fiction. "I'm not an Earthman, Pola. I'm an archaeologist from the Sirian Sector."
She turned on him quickly, her face white in the moonlight. For the space of a slow count to ten she said nothing. "Then you outfaced the soldiers because you were safe, after all, and knew it. And I thought-I should have known."
There was an outraged bitterness about her. "I humbly beg your pardon, sir, if at any time today, in my ignorance, I affected any disrespectful familiarity with you-"
"Pola," he cried angrily, "what's the matter? What if I'm not an Earthman? How does that make me different from what I seemed to you to be five minutes ago?"
"You might have told me, sir."
"I'm not asking you to call me 'sir.' Don't be like the rest of them, will you?"
"Like the rest of whom, sir? The rest of the disgusting animals that live on Earth?...I owe you a hundred credits."
"Forget it," said Arvardan disgustedly.
"I cannot follow that order. If you'll give me your address, I will send you a money order for the amount tomorrow."
Arvardan was suddenly brutal. "You owe me much more than a hundred credits."
Pola bit her lip and said in lowered tones, "It is the only part of my great debt, sir, that I can repay. Your address?"
"State House, " he flung at her across his shoulder. He was lost in the night.
And Pola found herself weeping/
Shekt met Pola at the door of his office.
"He's back," he said. "A little thin man brought him."
"Good!" She was having difficulty speaking.
"He asked for two hundred credits. I gave it to him."
"He was to ask for one hundred, but never mind."
She brushed past her father. He said wistfully, "I was terribly worried. The commotions in the neighborhood-I dared not ask; I might have endangered you."
"It's all right. Nothing's happened...Let me sleep here tonight, Father."
But not all her weariness could make her sleep, for something had happened. She had met a man, and he was an Outsider.
But she had his address. She had his address.
10. Interpretation Of Events
They presented a complete contrast, these two Earthmen-one with the greatest semblance of power on Earth, and one with the greatest reality.
Thus the High Minister was the most important Earthman on Earth, the recognized ruler of the planet by direct and definite decree of the Emperor of all the Galaxy-subject, of course, to the orders of the Emperor's Procurator. His Secretary seemed no one at all, really-merely a member of the Society of Ancients, appointed, theoretically, by the High Minister to take care of certain unspecified details, and dismissable, theoretically, at will.
The High Minister was known to all the Earth and was looked up to as the supreme arbiter on matters of Custom. It was he who announced the exemptions to the Sixty and it was he who judged the breakers of ritual, the defiers of rationing and of production schedules, the invaders of restricted territory and so on. The Secretary, on the other hand, was known to nobody, not even by name, except to the Society of Ancients and, of course, to the High Minister himself.
The High Minister had a command of language and made frequent speeches to the people, speeches of high emotional content and copious flow of sentiment. He had fair hair, worn long, and a delicate and patrician countenance. The Secretary, snub-nosed and wry-faced, preferred a short word to a long one, a grunt to a word, and silence to a grunt-at least in public.