by Anthology
"And, too, I knew who you were, of course. I didn't know for certain how you stood, or how much you could do, but you looked good. And it was pretty obvious you had capabilities." He smiled.
"Some of the retired guardsmen have had sons go sour on them, you know, so I can't take 'em just on faith. But, as I said, the locker room deal looked good, and the more you talked, the better I liked it."
"But you——"
"Yeah, I know. I wasn't taking such a chance, though, at that. Truth of the matter is I'm about as bad as your father. You couldn't make me give you the right time if I didn't feel like it." Masterson's eyes crinkled in an amused smile.
"Go ahead. Try it."
Don shook his head. "I'll take your word," he said. "I tried to tell Dad off once. Somehow, things get a little unpleasant."
"Yeah." Masterson stretched luxuriously. "Anyway, I figured you'd be a lot handier around here alive and in operating condition. The last thing I could let happen would be for Rayson to get you on that trick table of his. Once he got that thing to rocking and rolling, he'd stand back there, making soothing noises, and almost anyone would break down and give him all they'd ever known. After that, they'd lie back and believe anything he felt like telling them." He waved a hand back and forth as Don started to speak.
"Later, huh? We can discuss all the ins and outs some day when this is all over. Right now, let's be getting back to business." He smiled disarmingly and leaned back in his chair.
"Somehow, Stern's hand has got to be forced. He's off balance right now, and we want him further off. We want him to make a move he can't back out of. And you may be able to make him do just that."
"I might?"
"Yes. Suppose the hill tribes joined with the Waernu and demanded that a conclave consider Pete's claim to the throne. What then?"
"I guess there'd be a conclave."
"There might, at that. Now, let's go a little further. Suppose the Waernu claim were upheld and we got a new king—let's see, he'd drop a syllable—King Petonar. Where would our friend, Stern, end up?"
Don grinned wolfishly. "Khor Fortress. Even I can figure that much out."
Masterson stood up and paced around the office.
"So, if we can get Jasu and his son in motion and get them up in the Morek, something's bound to break. Right?" He stopped in front of Don.
"Oh, of course, Stern might call out the Royal Guard and scream rebellion. He'd probably do just that, if things went that far. He's getting in the propaganda groundwork for it now. But what he doesn't know is that he'd help us that way." He perched on Rayson's desk.
"You see, we've got some colonists that would yell at the top of their lungs for protection of their interests by the Federation. And then there would be a conclave—with plenty of supervision. Either way, he'd get right into checkmate." He clasped one knee in his hands and rocked back and forth.
"But there's one thing that stands in our way. Jasu Waern's scared to death. We've never quite dared explain this whole thing to him, and now no one can get near enough to talk to him. Harle was the clan head and the one with the nerve. He's gone, and Jasu's holed up. Won't let his son out of the house. Won't let anyone in. We can't move."
He got back to his feet and walked over to the window.
"Now, let's take some more suppositions. Suppose a flier went out of control and crashed in the middle of the Waern house. Or suppose some major criminal took refuge close to the place and decided to shoot it out with the Enforcement Corps. Seems to be a habit criminals have gotten into lately. And suppose a stray inductor beam just happened to graze the Waern living room.
"Then, who's checkmated?"
He looked down at his chair, then walked over and dropped into it.
"There's only one way to get Jasu in motion. You're it. The way you slammed Rayson back in his chair yesterday gave me an idea. You can get in there, and you'll have to move him—by force—compulsion—however you want to.
"Meantime, I'll get some things going. Your father can start the hill tribes getting together. He knows all the important head men. I'll give him a little push in that direction. Then, we'll get some more people to work."
Don looked at him for a moment. "Well, Dad told me I'd probably have to earn my keep. Anything else I ought to know?"
* * * * *
Jasu Waern looked up in annoyance, then got to his feet.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get in here?" He reached into a pocket.
Don Michaels spread his hands away from his body.
"Leave that weapon alone," he said sharply. "I came as a friend, and I'd hate to have someone shooting at me."
"But who are you?"
"I'm Donald Michaels. I want to talk to Pete … Petoen, I should say."
"My son is seeing no one. There has been——"
"I know," interrupted Don. "Trouble. Listen, I've had trouble myself in the past couple of days. It all started when I prevented a bunch of roughnecks from slapping Pete around." He frowned.
"Since then, things haven't been too pleasant." He held up a finger.
"I got accused of falsifying my report on the affair in the locker room. Pete didn't show up to testify, and everyone was looking at me." He extended a second finger.
"Pressure was put on me to sign a statement saying Pete used mental influence to make me put in a false statement. And I got into it with the school psychologist." A third finger snapped out.
"Next thing, I was being accused of accepting a money bribe from Pete. And I really got into it with the faculty advisor. That's not good." He dropped his hands to his sides.
"Right now, I'm not too popular at school. And I want to know what's going on. I want to know why Pete didn't show up to give me backing. I want to know what can be done to unscramble this mess."
Wearn shook his head slowly. "There are other schools—private schools," he said. "And we are still possessed of some——"
"Careful, Mr. Waern." Don held up a warning hand. "I don't carry the sling, but I do come from the Morek. Don't say something that might be misinterpreted. I want to see things straightened out. I didn't come here to start a feud with you."
Jasu Waern shivered a little. "But you are galactic, are you not? Surely, you are no hillman."
"I was brought up among them. Now get Pete. I want to talk to both of you."
Waern looked unhappy. But he walked across the room and pulled at a cord.
A servant came to the door.
"Tell Master Petoen," ordered Waern, "that I would like to see him in here."
The man bowed and left. Waern turned back to Don.
"You see, Mr. Michaels," he said apologetically, "we are in difficult times here. My brother——"
"I know." Don nodded. "Pete was upset the other evening. He told me a little. A little more than is made public."
Waern's eyebrows went up. "He said nothing about that."
Don waved negligently. "It did no harm. Maybe it was a good thing." He turned toward the door, waiting.
* * * * *
Pete came in, looking about the room. "You brought Don Michaels here, Father?"
Waern shook his head. "He came. He insisted on talking to you, Petoen. And I find he is very persuasive."
"Oh." Pete turned. "I'm sorry, Don. Father thought that I——"
Don laughed shortly. "He was right—to some extent. But I'd like to talk to both of you about a few things."
He moved back, to perch on the edge of a heavily carved table.
"Let's look at it this way. I got into trouble over the affair. Not good, of course, but what happened to me is just one small incident. All over Oredan, good intentioned people have things happening to them. Sometimes, they're pretty serious things—like someone getting killed. And they usually can't figure out what hit them. These things happen pretty often. Why?"
Waern looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. Don looked at him curiously.
"Do you really think, Mr. Waern, that you can sit he
re in peace? That if you ignore this whole mess, it'll go away?"
Jasu Waern spread his hands. "What dare I do? My brother was trying to do something. He is gone."
"True. He tried to clean up a little here and fix a little there. And that only in one city. He didn't come boldly out and demand. He was playing on the edge of the board, not in the center. A king could do much more than that."
Waern looked at him, shaking his head.
"Yes, I know about the succession," Don told him. "And why shouldn't you demand? You could get the support of the hill tribes. All you need do is ask."
"I have thought of that. Perhaps we should have done that—once. But now? After my brother's death? And what could the hillmen do against the weapons of the plains?"
Don smiled at him. "Would the hillmen believe the stories about your brother in the face of your personal denial before their own council? Would they accept such a thing about any of the Waernu unless it were proven by strong evidence? Yours is one of the clans, even yet, you must remember. And how about the honor of the Waernu?"
Jasu's face was suddenly drawn. Don continued.
"And would the plainsmen dare use their weapons against a legitimate claimant? For that matter, what good would their weapons be against a Federation Strike Group, even if they did use them?"
"You seem so sure."
"Not just sure. Certain." Don glanced at his watch, then frowned.
"We've lost a lot of time." His voice sharpened.
"Come on," he snapped. "My sportster will carry three people. Let's get out of here while we can still make it." He made shooing motions.
Waern moved toward the door, then turned.
"To the Morek?"
"That's right. Up to the Morek. We're going to start a feud."
* * * * *
Andrew Masterson looked at the handset approvingly. Little Mike was getting the idea. He was still just as fast as he'd ever been. He made a little noise in his throat, then spoke.
"Well, if you have any questions, Mr. Michaels, feel free to call us here. Thank you, and good-by."
He dropped the handset to its cradle and leaned back again.
So that was set up. Little Mike would be on his way out to the hills by the time he'd completed this next call. And he'd have the clans ready for talks with the Waernu. Now, the next step would be to alert Jahns, down in the Resident Commissioner's office.
He looked at the surface of his desk, considering, then reached for the phone again. He'd have to be careful on this one.
The door opened and two men came through. One of them held out a card.
"Masterson?"
"That's right."
"Like to have you come with us. People investigating Rayson's accident have some questions they'd like to ask you."
"Oh?" Masterson's eyebrows went up. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help on that. I saw him go down, of course, but the view from this window isn't the best. I really——"
The other shook his head. "Look, don't tell me about it. They just told us to come out and get you. Got a lot of experts down there. They'll ask the questions."
Masterson looked at the man appraisingly, then glanced at his partner, who stood by the door, leaning against the wall.
These two, he thought, would be no great problem. Nothing here but arms and legs. But——
[Illustration]
He smiled to himself.
It would be you or the whole tribe, he thought.
He might still be able to remain under cover, and he'd be a lot more effective that way.
So maybe they were a little suspicious. He glanced down at the desk. The little control box was safely destroyed and its operation had left no evidence. Even if they did suspect the cause of Rayson's crash, they couldn't prove a thing. No, his best bet was to go along with these two and hope the questioning would be short enough to allow him to brief Jahns with plenty of time to spare. He shrugged.
"Well," he said aloud, "I'll go with you, of course, though I don't see how I can be of any help. Terrible thing, losing Rayson that way."
"Yeah. Real bad." The other nodded curtly. "Come on. Let's go."
* * * * *
Daniel Stern looked angrily at his aide.
"Just who is responsible for this report?" he demanded.
The aide looked aside. "It came in from Riandar Headquarters, your honor," he said. "Colonel Konir signed it himself."
"I can read," snapped Stern. "But who's responsible? What idiot let this thing fall apart?" He shook the papers angrily.
"Look at this thing," he ordered. "Simple instructions were issued. With the organization they have up there, any fool could have carried them out. So long as they kept it simple, even an idiot could have eliminated that Waern nuisance. But no! Someone had to be subtle. Someone had to make a big project out of it. And, of course, something went wrong." He snorted angrily and slapped the papers down on his desk.
"Rayson was responsible in part, I suppose?"
The aide nodded unhappily and Stern let out an explosive breath.
"Your man! Well, at least, where he is, he can do no more harm. Tell me, are they going to get a confession out of that man, Masterson?"
"I doubt it, your honor. He claims to know nothing of the accident. And there isn't a scrap of evidence that——"
"Evidence! There's very little doubt is there? With those notes of Rayson's? And who else could have caused the crash?"
"Well, there certainly is no other——"
"Of course not. We know Masterson did it somehow. But why?"
The aide said nothing and Stern glared at him.
"Who is this Masterson?" he demanded. "Have you checked back on him?"
"He came here from Nogira," said the aide slowly, "seventeen years ago. He had some civil police experience there. We've checked that. He has a degree in criminalistic science. We checked that, too. Not a suspicious move since he came here. He was in the Civil Branch for a few years, then was assigned to instructional duty. He's got a perfectly clean record."
Stern shook his head slowly, then looked down at the desk again.
"Just that little," he growled. "He could have simply hated Rayson for some private reason. He could have seen him as an obstacle. We could care less about that." He tapped at a paper.
"Or, he could be working with the Waernu. And that's probable. He could even be an undercover agent for the Federation, though that seems a little improbable. He's been here too long. Hah! He could be almost anything except what Rayson thought." He looked up.
"Well, don't let him go. Keep him out of circulation. In fact, you better have him put in tight confinement. We'll look into him more closely later. Right now, I want to know what became of that Waern boy."
The aide pointed at the papers on the desk. "The boy and his father are reported to have left their residence, your honor. It is thought they went with that same Donald Michaels who interfered with the original plan."
Stern nodded. "The boy Rayson had right in his hands, and then let go. Yes." He looked around the room, then got to his feet.
"Tell me, has any progress been made on locating the Waern 'Book of Ancestors'?"
"No, your honor. Records has located and destroyed the last of the evidence here in Oreladar. But the Waern copy has not yet been located."
Stern nodded. "Find out who is responsible for the long delay in discovering the Waern claim, Lander. That is inexcusable." He frowned.
"Now, to the Waernu. Did anyone see them leave their home?"
The aide shook his head. "Observers say Michaels' flier landed in the Waern courtyard. A few minutes later, it took off and headed toward the mountains. The observers were unable to determine how many people were in the flier when it departed. It left too abruptly and traveled too fast. They determined its direction, but were unable to follow it."
"Valuable men! I think we should take careful note of all those people up at Riandar. Possibly they should be reassigned to duties more suited to
their abilities. Tell me, did anyone have the elementary intelligence to have this flier tracked?"
"They tried, your honor. But it disappeared in the canyons, flying very low. Search fliers have been operating for several hours, but no trace of it has been found."
Stern nodded. "Well, we won't discuss it any further," he decided. "You know my feelings on the Riandar people. I should say it would be safe to assume the Waernu are holed up in Michaels' home. Get the exact location of that place. Then set up an Enforcement Corps operation." He frowned.
"Get some men out to make sure those people don't go into the hill country before we can take care of them. You can use the search planes for that. Then attend to your advance publicity and set up elimination. You'll give that personal supervision, all the way through. Clear?"
The aide nodded.
"Very well. See that you make it simple. I'm not going to tell you how to handle this in detail, but I expect to watch a broadcast showing their removal within the next three days. Get started."
"Yes, your honor." The aide backed out of the room.
* * * * *
Stern watched the door close behind the man, then faced around as a dry voice sounded behind him.
"Real nice, Danny," it said. "You went through it without a stumble. Even came up with something of your own. You're learning, Kid."
Stern glared at the scrawny man.
"I thought you picked those people up at Riandar. I thought you said they knew how to do things."
The other shrugged and spread his hands. "Well, Danny," he said, "you know how it is. Once in a while, we underestimate the opposition, and they slip one over." He leaned back in his chair, staring at Stern.
"But maybe this way, it's even better," he added. "We get a few in the net we didn't even suspect existed, you see?" He paused.
"I think you should have a talk with this Masterson yourself," he went on. "Maybe you should tell him to give us some of this information he has, eh?"
Stern looked at him in annoyance. "I expect you and the rest of the people around here to do some work, Gorham. After all, I'm the regent. Do I have to do everything?"
Gorham got to his feet and brushed some of the dust from his trousers.
