Harvest of Stars by Poul Anderson Page A

However, I do believe they are starting to see that those interests are not really opposed to a rational ordering of society. I do look forward to an era of growing cooperation—”
    The voice went on. “Turn the sound off,” Guthrie said. “The rest will be duck-billed platitudes.”
    Kyra obeyed. She caught the idea, if not the figure of speech. “Yes, he’s just a figurehead, isn’t he? The whole government is.”
    “Not quite, but close enough for present purposes. Hm. Those North American execs of ours, Reynaldo, Langford, Rappaport—how many more?—what about them? I hope to Christ they’re all right.”
    “I shouldn’t think the Avantists would harm them, sir,” Lee said. “That would make needless antagonism. Probably several key persons are in ‘protective custody,’ but not otherwise abused, and that’s simply to keep them incommunicado. Then nobody can be sure whether some of them have in fact agreed that the occupation is right and necessary.”
    “How believable will that be, and for how long?” Kyra wondered. “
Would
any of them sit still and mum, given a choice?”
    “No,” Guthrie replied, “but the situation can be maintained for several days, after which the prisoners can be released and it won’t matter. Any little inconsistencies between their stories and Escobedo’s will be overlooked. Till then, Sayre’s gang needn’t expect too much trouble from those they’ve left free. The commonsensical thing for all consortes to do right now is sit tight and wait for word from me.”
    As if to confirm, the president’s message ended and a new image appeared. Kyra restored the sound and heard: “Dateline Quito. At Fireball’s general headquarters here, Director-at-large Dolores Almeida Candamo issued a statement calling this a most perturbing development. She had no other comment pending further information, except that she and her associates are in touch with other offices on Earth and in space. None of these have offered any comment either.”
    “Yeah,” Guthrie growled approvingly. “Sitting tight.”
    “—in the Assembly of the World Federation,” said the newscaster, “Colin Small of Caribbea responded to the North American call for Peace Authority intervention.”
    The image became that of a thin ebony man whose lip movements showed the English was his own: “With due respect for my distinguished friend from the Union, I submit that this request is not what it pretends to be. It is for propaganda purposes, and perhaps for the injury of Fireball. Nations are sovereign within their own borders while they observe the Covenant. Therefore the government of the North American Union can restrict any Peace Authority forces to whatever sites and actions it sees fit. Its allegations are vague and unproven. If it honestly wants help, let it bring formal charges of activity military, genocidal, harmful to the common environment, or unreasonably in hindrance of traffic or communications. Let such charges be examined by the appropriate committee, and found probable. Then world law enforcement can move against Fireball—or, conceivably, against the government of the North American Union. I do not expect either will happen. Legally, at least, this is a dispute between a national government and a private but international organization.”
    The scene changed to an economist, who answered questions put by the newscaster. Yes, North America depended on materials and energy from space; all Earth did. Yes, Fireball was the primary provider of these. Yes, if it halted service, the country would soon be seriously inconvenienced. No, there would not be famine or any such thing; the Federation and the Authority would see to that. Besides, the odds were against Fireball ever taking such a drastic measure. Remember, the cost to it would be incalculable, in lost revenues and, far more, in relationships with the rest of the world. It was more vulnerable than one might think. Remember, it was not