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"Very good. What about the organ banks?"
"Right." Millard Parlette wrapped his arms around his narrow rib cage and stared into the fire. "I couldn't plan for that part, because I didn't know just what technological change was coming. What are your ideas?"
"Abolish the organ banks," Mrs. Hancock said firmly.
"Throw away tons of organic transplant material? Dump it on the grass?"
"Yes!"
"Would you also abolish crime? The organ banks are our only way to punish thieves and murderers. There are no prisons on Mount Lookitthat."
"Then build prisons. You've been killing us long enough!"
Parlette shook his head.
Harry Kane intervened. "It wouldn't work. Look, Lydia, I know how you feel, but we couldn't do it. If we dumped all that transplant material out, we'd have the whole Plateau against us. We can't even abolish execution by the organ banks, partly because crime would run rampant without capital punishment, and partly because there are too many crew like Parlette, who need the banks to live. If we did that, we might as well declare war here and now."
Lydia turned appealingly to Hood.
"I pass," said Hood. "I think you're all ignoring something."
Harry said, "Oh?"
"I'm not sure yet. I'll have to wait and see. Keep talking."
"I don't understand," said Lydia. "I don't understand any of you. What have we been fighting for? What have we been dying for? To smash the organ banks!"
"You're overlooking something, Mrs. Hancock," Parlette said gently. "It isn't that the crew wouldn't agree to that, and it isn't that the colonists wouldn't agree to that. They wouldn't, of course. But I won't let you kick in the organ banks."
"No." Lydia's words dripped scorn. "You'd have to die then, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, I would. And you need me."
"Why? What have you got for us besides your influence and your good advice?"
"A small army. I have more than one hundred lineal descendants. They've been prepared for this day for a very long time. Not all of them will follow me, but most will obey my orders without question. They all have hunting weapons."
Lydia sighed, raggedly.
"We'll do our best, Mrs. Hancock. We can't eliminate the organ banks, but we can eliminate the injustice."
"What we'll have to do," said Harry, "is establish a first-come, first-serve basis for what's already in the banks. Whoever gets sick first--you see what I mean. Meanwhile we set up a new code of law, so that a crew stands just as much chance of getting into the banks as a colonist."
"Don't push to hard there, Kane. Remember, we have to satisfy both groups."
"Phut!" said Lydia Hancock. It was hard to tell whether she was ready to cry or to start a fistfight.
They were a circle of three, leaning toward each other across the coffeetable, holding forgotten mugs. Hood sat a little back from the coffeetable, ignored, waiting for something.
"The thing is," said Parlette, "We can make everyone equal before the law. We can do that, and get away with it, provided that there is no redistribution of property. Do you agree to that?"
"Not completely."
"Look at the logic. Everyone is equal in the courts. A crime is a crime. But the more property a man has, the less likely he is to want to commit a crime. It gives the crew something to protect, and it gives the colonist something to gain."
"It makes sense, yes. But there are a few things we'll want."
"Go ahead."
"Our own electrical power sources."
"Fine. We'll supply it free until we can build plants on Gamma and Delta. We can put hydraulic plants along the Muddy and Long Fall rivers."
"Good. We want free access to the organ banks guaranteed."
"That's a problem. An organ bank is like any other bank. You can't take out more than you put in. We'll have less condemned criminals and a lot more sick colonists to take care of."
Hood had his chair tilted back on two legs, with his feet on the edge of the table. His eyes were half closed, as if he was dreaming pleasant daydreams.
"Lotteries, then; fair lotteries. And heavy research into alloplasty, financed by the crew."
"Why the crew?"
"You've got all the money."
"We can work out a graduated tax. Anything else?"
"There are a lot of unjust laws. We'll want to build houses as we see fit. No restrictions on the clothes we wear. Free travel. The right to buy machinery, any machinery, at the same price a crew pays. We'll want to put some solid restrictions on Implementation. For--"
"Why? They'll be police. They'll be enforcing your laws."
"Parlette, have you ever had a squad of police come crashing through the wall of your house, throwing mercy-bullets and sleepy gas around, dragging housecleaners into the light, tearing up the indoor lawn?"
"I've never been a rebel."
"The hell you say."
Parlette smiled. It made him look too much like a death's head. "I've never been caught."
"Point is, Implementation can do that to anyone. And does, constantly. The householder doesn't even get an apology when they don't find evidence of crime."
"I hate to restrict the police. It's a sure route to chaos." Parlette took a long swallow of cider. "All right, how does this sound? There used to be a thing called a search warrant. If kept the UN police from entering any home unless they had a good and sufficient reason, one they could show to a judge."
"Sounds good."
"I can look up the details in the library."
"Another thing. As things stand now, Implementation has an exclusive monopoly on prisoners. They catch 'em, decide whether they're guilty, and take 'em apart. We ought to split those functions up somehow."
"I've thought about that, Kane. We can establish laws such that no man can be executed until he has been declared guilty by a clear majority of ten men. Five crew, five colonists, in cases where crew and colonists are both involved. Otherwise, trial by five of the prisoner's own social group. All trials to be public, on some special teedee cha
"That sound--"
"I knew it." Jay Hood dropped back into the discussion with a thump of chair legs on flooring. "Do you realize that every suggestion either of you has made tonight would take power away from the Hospital?"
Parlette frowned. "Perhaps. What does it matter?"
"You've been talking as if there were two power groups on Mount Lookitthat. There are three! You, us, and the Hospital, and the Hospital is the most powerful. Parlette, you've been studying the Sons of Earth for Mist Demons know how long. Have you spent any time studying Jesus Pietro Castro?"
"I've known him a long time." Millard Parlette considered. "At least, I know he's competent. I don't suppose I really know how he thinks."
"Harry does. Harry, what would Castro do if we tried to put all these restrictions on his police?"
"I don't understand you," said Millard Parlette. "Castro is a good, loyal man. He has never done anything that wasn't in the best interests of the crew. Perhaps I don't know him socially, but I do know that he regards himself as a servant of the crew. Anything the crew accepts, lie will accept."
"Dammit, Hood's right," said Harry Kane. "I know Castro better than I knew my father. I just hadn't thought of this."
"Jesus Pietro Castro is a good, loyal--"
"Servant of the crew. Right. Now hold on just a minute, Parlette. Let me speak.
"First of all, what crew? What crew is he loyal to?"
Parlette snorted. He picked up his mug and found it empty.
"He's not loyal to any specific crew," said Harry Kane. "In fact he doesn't respect most crew. He respects you, and there are others who fit his ideals, but what he's loyal to is a sort of ideal crew: a man who does not overspend, is polite to his inferiors and knows exactly how to treat them, and has the best interests of the colonists in his mind at all times. This image is the man he serves.