"I am afraid my background is hazy, Colonel Kossuth.You mentioned the Pink Army. You also mentioned your own fracases. Iknew you maintained an army, of course, but I thought the fracas was aWest development, in fact, your military attaches are usually on thescornful side."
The two lieutenants grinned, but Kossuth said seriously, "Major, asalways, nations which hold each other at arm's length, use differentterminology to say much the same thing. It need not be confusing, ifone digs below to find reality. Perhaps, for a moment, we four canlower barriers enough for me to explain that whilst in the West-worldyou hold your fracases to"--he began enumerating on his fingers--"One,settle disputes between business competitors, or between corporationsand unions. Two, to train soldiers for your defense requirements.Three, to keep bemused a potentially dangerous lower class...."
"I object to that, colonel," one of the lieutenants said hotly.
The Sov officer ignored him. "Four, to dispose of the more aggressivepotential rebels, by allowing them to kill each other off in thecontinual combat."
"That, sir, is simply not true," the lieutenant blurted. Joe couldn'tremember if he was Andersen or Dickson, even their names were similar.
Joe said, evenly, "And your alternative?"
The Hungarian shrugged. "The Proletarian Paradise maintains twoarmies, major. One of veterans, for defense against potential foreignfoes, and named the Glorious Invincible Red Army--"
"Or, the Red Army, for short," one of the lieutenants murmured dryly.
"... And the other composed of less experienced proletarians and theirtechno-intellectual, and sometimes even Party, officers. This is ourPink Army."
"Wait a moment," Joe said. "What's a proletarian?"
The lieutenant who had protested the Sov officer's summation of thereasons for the West-world fracases, laughed dryly.
Kossuth stared at Joe. "You _are_ poorly founded in the background ofthe Sov-world, major."
Joe said, "Deliberately, Colonel Kossuth. When I learned of myassignment, I deliberately avoided cramming unsifted information. Idecided it would be more desirable to get my information at thesource, uncontaminated by our own West-world propaganda."
One of the stiff-necked twins, both of whom Joe was beginning to finda bit _too_ stereotyped West-world adherents, said, "Sir, I mustprotest. The West does not utilize propaganda."
"Of course not," Kossuth said, taking his turn at a dry tone. He saidto Joe, "I admire your decision. Obviously, a correct one. Major, aproletarian is, well, you could say, ah--"
"A Low-Lower," Andersen or Dickson said.
"Not exactly," the Sov protested. "Let us put it this way. Marx oncewrote that when true Socialism had arrived, the formula would be fromeach according to his abilities and to each according to his needs.Unhappily, due to the fact that the Proletarian Paradise is surroundedby potential enemies, we have not as yet established this formula.Instead, it is now from each according to his abilities and to eachaccording to his contribution. Consequently, the most useful membersof our society are drawn into the ranks of the Party, and,contributing the most, are most highly rewarded. The Party consists ofsomewhat less than one per cent of the population."
"And is for all practical purposes, hereditary," Anderson or Dicksonsaid.
Kossuth, in indignation, parroted, unknowingly, the lieutenant'searlier words. "That, sir, is simply not true."
Joe said, soothing over the ruffled waters, "And the ... what did youcall them ... techno-intellectuals?"
"They are the second most useful members of society. Our technicians,scientists--although many of these are members of the Party, ofcourse--teachers, artists, Pink and Red Army officers, and so forth."
Max looked around from the front seat. "Well, gee, that sounds justabout like Uppers, Middles and Lowers to me."
Joe Mauser cleared his throat and said to the Hungarian who wasglaring at Max. "And the Pink Army?"
But Kossuth bit out to Max, "Don't be silly, my man. There are noclasses in the Proletarian Paradise."
"Yeah," Max said, "and back in the West-world we got People'sCapitalism and the people own the corporations. Yeah."
"That'll be all, Max," Joe said, getting in before the two lieutenantscould snap something at the fiesty little man. Joe had already decidedthat the lieutenants were both Uppers, and was somewhat surprised attheir lowly rank.
Kossuth brought his attention back to Joe. "We're almost to ourdestination, Major Mauser. However, briefly, some of the more recentadditions to the Sov-world, particularly in the more backward areas ofsouthern Asia, have not quite adjusted to the glories of theProletarian Paradise."
Both of the lieutenants chuckled softly.
Kossuth said, "So it is found necessary to dispatch punitiveexpeditions against them. A current such expedition is in the KunlunMountains in that area once known as Sinkiang to the north, Tibet tothe south. Kirghiz and Kazakhs nomads in the region persist inrejecting the Party and its program. The Pink Army is in the processof eliminating these reactionary elements."
Joe was puzzled. He said, "You mean, in all these years you haven'tbeen able to clean up such small elements of enemies?"
Kossuth said stuffily, "My dear major, please recall that we arelimited to the use of weapons pre-1900 in accord with the UniversalDisarmament Pact. To be blunt, it is quite evident that foreignelements smuggle weapons into Tibet and other points where rebellionflares, so that on some occasions our Pink Army is confronted withenemies better armed than themselves. These bandits, of course, arenot under the jurisdiction of the International Commission and whilewe are limited, they are not."
"Besides," one of the lieutenants said, "They don't want to clean themup. If they did, the Sov equivalent of the fracas buff wouldn't beable to spend his time at the Telly watching the progress of theGlorious Pink Army against the reactionary foe."
Joe, under his breath, parroted the words of the Sov officer. "That,sir, is simply not true."
Max, who had largely been staring bug-eyed out the window at thepassing scene, said, "Hey, the car's stopping. Is this it?"
XVI
Although in actuality working on a private mission for Philip Holland,Frank Hodgson and the others high in government responsibility whowere planning fundamental changes in the West-world, Joseph Mauser wasostensibly a military attache connected with the West-world Embassy toBudapest. As such, he spent several days meeting embassy personnel,his immediate superiors and his immediate inferiors in rank. He was,as a newcomer from home, wined, dined, evaluated, found an apartment,assigned a hovercar, and in general assimilated into the community.
Not ordinarily prone to the social life, Joe was able to find interestin this due to its newness. The citizen of the West-world, when exiledby duty to a foreign land, evidently did his utmost to take his nativesoil with him. Even house furnishings had been brought from NorthAmerica. Sov food and drink were superlative, particularly for thoseof Party rank, but for all practical purposes all such supplies wereflown in from the West. Hungarian potables, not to mention theproducts of a dozen other Sov political divisions including Russia,were of the best, but the denizens of the West-world Embassy drankbourbon and Scotch, or at most the products of the vines ofCalifornia. The styles of Budapest rivaled those of Paris and Rome,New York and Hollywood, but a feminine employee of the embassywouldn't have been caught dead in local fashions. It was a home awayfrom home, an oasis of the West in the Sov-world.
Joe, figuring that in view of the double role, unknown even to thehigher ranking officers of the embassy, he could best secureprotective coloring by conforming and would have slipped into embassyroutine without more than ordinary notice. But that wasn't Nadine'sstyle.
From the first, she gloried in porkolt, the veal stew with paprikasauce, in rostelyos, the round steak potted in a still hotter paprikasauce, in halaszle, the fish soup which is Hungary's challenge toFrench bouillabaisse, and threatened her lithe figure with herconsumption of retes, the Magyar strudel. All these washed down withSzamorodni or a Hungarian Riesling,
the despair of a hundredgenerations of connoisseurs due to its inability to travel. Whenliqueurs were called for, barack, the highly distilled apricot brandywhich was still the national tipple, was her choice, if not TokayAszu, the sweet nectar wine, once allowed only to be consumed bynobility so precious was it considered.
Her apartment became adorned with Hungarian, Bulgarian and Czechantiques, somewhat to the surprise even of the few Sovs with whom sheand Joe associated. It had been long years since antiques were invogue. She dressed in the latest styles from the dressing centers ofPrague, Leningrad or from the local houses, ignoring the raisedeyebrows of her embassy associates.
Joe, with an inner sigh,