by Robert Shea
the blaster cannon battery. Itwill outguess Lane's cybrain and check his moves ahead of time."
Lane looked at Gerri. "How about giving me a kiss before they get us? Benice if I kissed a girl like you just once in my life."
She smiled and walked forward. "You deserve it, Lane."
He kissed her and it filled him with longings for things he couldn'tname. Then he stepped back and shook his head. "It ain't right youshould get killed. If I take a dive out that window, they shoot at me,not in here."
"And kill you all the sooner."
"Better than getting burned up in this lousy little room. You also gotright on your side. There's too many damn Troopers and not enough goodpersons like you. Old cybrain says stay here, but I don't guess I will.I'm gonna pay you back for that kiss."
"But you're safe in here!"
"Worry about yourself, not about me." Lane picked up the force-bomb andhanded it to her. "When I say now, press this. Then take your hand off,real fast. It'll shut off the screen for a second."
He stepped up on to the window ledge. Automatically, the cybrain cut inhis paragrav-paks. "So long, outa-towner. _Now!_"
He jumped. He was hurtling across the Square when the blaster cannonsopened up. They weren't aimed at the window where the littlered-white-and-green tricolor was flying. But they weren't aimed at Lane,either. They were shooting wild.
_Which way now? Looks like I got a chance. Old cybrain says fly rightfor the cannons._
He saw the Mayor's balcony ahead. _Go to hell, old cybrain. I'm doingall right by myself. I come to see the Mayor, and I'm gonna see him._
Lane plunged forward. He heard the shouts of frightened men.
He swooped over the balcony railing. A man was pointing a blaster pistolat him. There were five men on the balcony--emergency! Years of trainingand cybrain took over. Lane's hand shot out, fingers vibrating. As hedropped to the balcony floor in battle-crouch, the men slumped aroundhim.
He had seen the man with the blaster pistol before. It was the Mayor ofNewyork.
Lane stood for a moment in the midst of the sprawled men, the shrieks ofthe crowd floating up to him. Then he raised his glove to his lips. Hemade contact with Manhattan Armory.
"Colonel Klett, sir. You said if we captured the city government wemight have a chance. Well, I captured the city government. What do we dowith it now?"
* * * * *
Lane was uncomfortable in his dress uniform. First there had been aceremony in Tammany Square inaugurating Newyork's new MilitaryProtectorate, and honoring Trooper Lane. Now there was a formal dinner.Colonel Klett and Gerri Kin sat on either side of Lane.
Klett said, "Call me an opportunist if you like, Miss Kin, my governmentwill be stable, and Mars can negotiate with it." He was a lean,sharp-featured man with deep grooves in his face, and gray hair.
Gerri shook her head. "Recognition for a new government takes time. I'mgoing back to Mars, and I think they'll send another ambassador nexttime. Nothing personal--I just don't like it here."
Lane said, "I'm going to Mars, too."
"Did she ask you to?" demanded Klett.
Lane shook his head. "She's got too much class for me. But I like whatshe told me about Mars. It's healthy, like."
Klett frowned. "If I thought there was a gram of talent involved in yourcapture of the Mayor, Lane, I'd never release you from duty. But I knowbetter. You beat that analogue computer by sheer stupidity--bydisregarding your cybrain."
Lane said, "It wasn't so stupid if it worked."
"That's what bothers me. It calls for a revision in our tactics. We'vegot a way of beating those big computers now, should anyone use themagainst us."
"I just didn't want her to be hurt."
"Exactly. The computer could outguess a machine, like your cybrain. Butyou introduced a totally unpredictable factor--human emotion. Whichproves what I, as a military man, have always maintained--that thedeadliest weapon in man's arsenal is still, and will always be, theindividual soldier."
"What you just said there, sir," said Lane. "That's why I'm leavingNewyork."
"What do you mean?" asked Colonel Klett.
"I'm tired of being a weapon, sir. I want to be a human being."
END
* * * * *
Work is the elimination of the traces of work.
_--Michelangelo_
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _If_ July 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
