"To Konkrook?” Keaveney fairly howled. “Are you nuts? Don't you think we need reenforcements here, too?"
"Yes, I do. I'm going to try to get them,” von Schlichten told him. “Now pipe down and get out of people's way."
He crossed the room, to where two Kragans, a male sergeant, and the ubiquitous girl in the orange sweater were struggling to get a big circular TV-screen up, then turned to look at the situation-map. A girl tech-sergeant was keeping Paula Quinton and Mrs. Jules Keaveney informed.
"Start pushing geeks out of the Fifth Zirk Cavalry barracks,” the sergeant was saying. “The one at the north end, and the one next to it; they're both on fire, now.” She tossed a slip into the wastebasket beside her and glanced at the next slip. “And more pink pills back of the barracks and stables, and move them a little to the north-west; Kragans as skirmishers, to intercept geeks trying to slip away from the cavalry barracks."
* * * *
A young Kragan with his lower left arm in a sling and a daub of antiseptic plaster over the back of his head came up and gave him a radioprint slip. Guido Karamessinis, the Resident-Agent at Grank, had reported, at last. The city, he said, was quiet, but King Yoorkerk's troops had seized the Company airport and docks, taken the Procyon and the Northern Lights and put guards aboard them, and were surrounding the Residency. He wanted to know what to do.
Von Schlichten managed to get him on the screen, after awhile.
"It looks as though Yoorkerk's trying to play both sides at once,” he told the Grank Resident. “If the rebellion's put down, he'll come forward as your friend and protector; if we're wiped out elsewhere, he'll yell ‘Znidd suddabit!’ and swamp you. Don't antagonize him; we can't afford to fight this war on any more fronts than we are now. We'll try to do something to get you unfrozen, before long."
He called Krink again. A girl with red-gold hair and a dusting of freckles across her nose answered.
"How are you making out?” he asked.
"So far, fine, general. We're in complete control of the Company area, and all our native-troops, not just the Kragans, are with us. Jonkvank's pushed the mutineers out of his palace, and we're keeping open a couple of streets between there and here. We airlifted all our Kragans and half the Sixth N.U.N.I. to the Palace, and we have the Zirks patrolling the streets on ‘saur-back. Now, we have our lorries and troop-carriers out picking up elements of Jonkvank's loyal troops outside town."
"Who's doing the rioting, then?"
She named three of Jonkvank's regiments. “And the city hoodlums, and priests from the temples of one sect that followed Rakkeed, and the whole passel of Skilkan fifth columnists."
"How long do you think it'd take, with the equipment you have, to airlift all of Jonkvank's loyal troops into the city?"
"Not before this time tomorrow."
"All right. Are you in radio communication with Jonkvank now?"
"Full telecast, audio-visual,” the girl replied. “Just a minute, general."
* * * *
He put in his geek-speaker. Within a few minutes, a saurian Ullran face was looking out of it at him; a harsh-lined, elderly, face, with an old scar, quartz-crusted, along one side.
"Your Majesty,” von Schlichten greeted him.
Jonkvank pronounced something intended to correspond to von Schlichten's name. “We have image-met under sad circumstances, general,” he said.
"Sad for both of us, King Jonkvank; we must help one another. I am told that your soldiers in Krink have risen against you, and that your loyal troops are far from the city."
"Yes. That was the work of my War Minister, Hurkkirk, who was in the pay of King Firkked of Skilk, may Jeels devour him alive! I have Hurkkirk's head here somewhere. I can have it found, if you want to see it."
"Dead-traitors’ heads do not interest me, King Jonkvank,” von Schlichten replied, in what he estimated that the Krinkan king would interpret as a tone of cold-blooded cruelty. “There are too many traitors’ heads still on traitors’ shoulders.... What regiments are loyal to you, and where are they now?"
Jonkvank began naming regiments and locating them, all at minor provincial towns at least a hundred miles from Krink.
"Hurkkirk did his work well; I'm afraid you killed him too mercifully,” von Schlichten said. “Well, I'm sending the Northern Star to Krink. She can only bring in one regiment at a trip, the way they're scattered; which one do you want first?"
Jonkvank's mouth, until now compressed grimly, parted in a gleaming smile. He made an exclamation of pleasure which sounded rather like a boy running along a picket fence with a stick.
"Good, general! Good!” he cried. “The first should be the regiment Murderers, at Furnk; they all have rifles like your soldiers. Have them brought to the Great Square, at the Palace here. And then, the regiment Fear-Makers, at Jeelznidd, and the regiment Corpse-Reapers, at...."
"Let that go until the Murderers are in,” von Schlichten advised. “They're at Furnk, you say? I'll send the Northern Star there, directly."
"Oh, good, general! I will not soon forget this! And, as soon as the work is finished here, I will send soldiers to help you at Skilk. There shall be a great pile of the heads of those who had part in this wickedness, both here and there!"
"Good. Now, if you will pardon me, I'll go to give the necessary orders...."
* * * *
As he left the booth, he saw Hideyoshi O'Leary in front of the situation-map, and hailed him.
"Harry and Hassan are getting the car re-ammoed; they dropped me off here. Want to come up with us and see the show?” O'Leary asked, as he saw the general.
"No, I want you to go to Krink, as soon as Harry brings the car here again.” He told O'Leary what he intended doing. “You'll probably have to go around ahead of the Star and alert these regiments. And as soon as things stabilize at Krink, prod Jonkvank into airlifting troops here. You're authorized, in my name, to promise Jonkvank that he can assume political control at Skilk, after we've stuffed Firkked's head in the dustbin."
Jules Keaveney, who always seemed to be where he wasn't wanted, heard that and fairly screamed.
"General von Schlichten! That is a political decision! You have no authority to make promises like that; that is a matter for the Governor-General, at least!"
"Well, as of now, and until a successor to Sid Harrington can be sent here from Terra, I'm Governor-General,” von Schlichten told him, mentally thanking Keaveney for reminding him of the necessity for such a step. “Captain Malavez! You will send out an all-station telecast, immediately: Military Commander-in-Chief Carlos von Schlichten, being informed of the deaths of both Governor-General Harrington and Lieutenant-Governor Blount, assumes the duties of Governor-General, as of 0001 today.” He turned to Keaveney. “Does that satisfy you?” he asked.
"No, it doesn't. You have no authority to assume a civil position of any sort, let alone the very highest position...."
Von Schlichten unbuttoned his holster and took out his authority, letting Keaveney look in to the muzzle of it.
"Here it is,” he said. “If you're wise, don't make me appeal to it."
Keaveney shrugged. “I can't argue with that,” he said. “But I don't fancy the Ullr Company is going to be impressed by it."
"The Ullr Company,” von Schlichten replied, “is six and a half parsecs away. It takes a ship six months to get from here to Terra, and another six months to get back. A radio message takes a little over twenty-one years, each way.” He holstered the pistol again.
"That brings up another question, general,” one of Keaveney's subordinates said. “Can we hold out long enough for help to get here from Terra?"
"By the time help could reach us from Terra,” von Schlichten replied, “we'll either have this revolt crushed, or there won't be a live Terran left on Ullr.” He felt a brief sadistic pleasure as he watched Keaveney's face sag in horror. “On this planet, there's not more than a three months’ supply of any sort of food a human can eat. And the ships that'll be com
ing in until word of our plight can get to Terra won't bring enough to keep us going. We need the farms and livestock and the animal-tissue culture plant at Konkrook, and the farms at Krink and on the plateau back of Skilk, and we need peace and native labor to work them."
* * * *
Nobody seemed to have anything to say after that, for awhile. Then Keaveney suggested that the next ship was due in from Niflheim in three months, and that it could be used to evacuate all the Terrans on Ullr.
"And I'll personally shoot any able-bodied Terran who tries to board that ship,” von Schlichten promised. “Get this through your heads, all of you. We are going to break this rebellion, and we are going to hold Ullr for the Company and the Terran Federation.” He looked around him. “Now, get back to work, all of you,” he told the group that had formed around him and Keaveney. “Miss Quinton, you just heard me order my adjutant, Colonel O'Leary, on detached duty to Krink. I want you to take over for him. You'll have rank and authority as colonel for the duration of this war."
She was thunderstruck. “But I know absolutely nothing about military matters. There must be a hundred people here who are better qualified than I am...."
"There are, and they all have jobs, and I'd have to find replacements for them, and replacements for the replacements. You won't leave any vacancy to be filled. And you'll learn, fast enough.” He went over to the situation-map again, and looked at the arrangements of pink and white pills. “First of all, I want you to call Jarman, at the military airport, and have an airjeep and driver sent around here for me. I'm going up and have a look around. Barney, keep the show going while I'm out, and tell Colonel Quinton what it's all about."
CHAPTER VII
He looked at his watch, as the light airjeep let down into the street. Oh-one-fifteen-two hours and a half since the mutiny at the native-troops barracks had broken out. The Company reservation was still ablaze with lights, and over the roof of the hospital and dispensary and test-lab he could see the glare of the burning barracks. There was more fire-glare to the south, in the direction of the mine-equipment park and the mine-labor camp, and from that direction the bulk of the firing was to be heard.
The driver, a young lieutenant, slid back the duraglass canopy for him to climb in, then snapped it into place when he had strapped himself into his seat, and hit the controls.
They lifted up, the driver turning the nose of the airjeep in the direction of the flames and explosions and magnesium-lights to the south and tapping his booster-button gently. The vehicle shot forward and came floating in over the scene of the fighting. The situation-map at the improvised headquarters had shown a mixture of pink and white pills in the mine-equipment park; something was going to have to be done about the lag in correcting it, for the area was entirely in the hands of loyal Company troops, and the mob of laborers and mutinous soldiers had been pushed back into the temporary camp where the workers had been gathered to await transportation to the Arctic. As he had feared, the rioting workers, many of whom were trained to handle contragravity equipment, had managed to lift up a number of dump-trucks and power-shovels and bulldozers, intending to use them as improvised air-tanks, but Jarman's combat-cars had gotten on the job promptly and all of these had been shot down and were lying in wreckage, mostly among the rows of parked mining-equipment.
* * * *
From the labor-camp, a surprising volume of fire was being directed against the attack which had already started from the retaken equipment-park.
Hovering above the fighting, aloof from it, he saw six long troop-carriers land and disgorge Kragan Rifles who had been released by the liquidation of resistance at the native-troops barracks. A little later, two air-tanks floated in, and then two more, going off contragravity and lumbering forward on treads to fire their 90-mm. rifles. At the same time, combat-cars swooped in, banging away with their lighter auto-cannon and launching rockets. The titanium prefab-huts, set up to house the laborers and intended to be taken north with them for their stay on the polar desert, were simply wiped away. Among the wreckage, resistance was being blown out like the lights of a candelabrum.
He took up the hand-phone and called HQ.
"Von Schlichten; what's the wavelength of the officer in command at the equipment-park?"
A voice at the telecast station furnished it; he punched it out.
"Von Schlichten, right overhead. That you, Major Falkenberg? Nice going, major; how are your casualties?"
"Not too bad. Twenty or thirty Kragans and loyal Skilkans, and eight Terrans killed; about as many wounded."
"Pretty good, considering what you're running into. Get many of your Kragans mounted on those hipposaurs?"
"About a hundred; a lot of ‘saurs got shot, while we were leading them out from the stables."
"Well, I can see geeks streaming away from the labor-camp, out the south end, going in the direction of the river. Use what cavalry you have on them, and what contragravity you can spare. I'll drop a few flares to show their position and direction."
Anticipating him, the driver turned the airjeep and started toward the dry Hoork River. Von Schlichten nodded approval and told him to release flares when over the fugitives.
"Right,” Falkenberg replied. “I'll get on it at once, general."
"And start moving that mine-equipment up into the Company area. Some of it we can put into the air; the rest we can use to build barricades. None of it do we want the geeks getting hold of, and the equipment-park's outside our practical perimeter. I'll send people to help you move it."
"No need to do that, sir; I have about a hundred and fifty loyal North Ullrans-foremen, technicians, overseers-who can handle it."
"All right. Use your own judgment. Put the stuff back of the native-troops barracks, and between the power-plant and the Company office-buildings, and anywhere else you can.” The lieutenant nudged him and pushed a couple of buttons on the dashboard. “Here go the flares, now."
* * * *
Immediately, a couple of airjeeps pounced in, to strafe the fleeing enemy. Somebody must have already been issuing orders on another wavelength; a number of Kragans, riding hipposaurs, were galloping into the light of the flares.
"Now, let's have a look at the native barracks and the maintenance-yards,” he said. “And then, we'll make a circuit around the Reservation, about two-three miles out. I'm not happy about where Firkked's army is."
The driver looked at him. “I've been worrying about that, too, sir,” he said. “I can't understand why he hasn't jumped us, already. I know it takes time to get one of these geek armies on the road, but...."
"He's hoping our native-troops and the mine laborers will be able to wipe us out, themselves,” von Schlichten said.
There was nothing going on in the area between the native barracks and the mountains except some sporadic firing as small patrols of Kragans clashed with clumps of fleeing mutineers. All the barracks, even those of the Rifles, were burning; the red-and-yellow danger-lights around the power-plant and the water-works and the explosives magazines were still on. Most of the floodlights were still on, and there was still some fighting around the maintenance-yard. It looked as though the survivors of the Tenth N.U.N.I. were in a few small pockets which were being squeezed out.
There was nothing at all going on north of the Reservation; the countryside, by day a checkerboard of walled fields and small villages, was dark, except for a dim light, here and there, where the occupants of some farmhouse had been awakened by the noise of battle.
Then, two miles east of the Reservation, he caught a new sound-the flowing, riverlike, murmur of something vast on the move.
"Hear that, lieutenant?” he asked. “Head for it, at about a thousand feet. When we're directly above it, let go some flares."
"Yes, sir.” The younger man had lowered his voice to a whisper.
"That's geeks; headed for the Reservation."
"Maybe Firkked's army,” von Schlichten thought aloud. “Or maybe a city mob."
; * * * *
The noises were growing clearer, louder. He picked up the phone and punched the wavelength of the military airport.
"Von Schlichten; my compliments to Colonel Jarman. Tell him there's a geek mob, or possibly Firkked's regulars, on the main highway from Skilk, two miles east of the Reservation. Get some combat contragravity over here, at once. We'll light them up for you. And tell Colonel Jarman to start flying patrols up and down along the Hoork River; this may not be the only gang that's coming out to see us."
The sounds were directly below, now-the scuffing of horny-soled feet on the dirt road, the clink and rattle of slung weapons, the clicking and squeaking of Ullran voices.
The lieutenant said: “Here go the flares, sir."
Von Schlichten shut his eyes, then opened them slowly. The driver, upon releasing the flares, had nosed up, banked, turned, and was coming in again, down the road toward the advancing column. Von Schlichten peered into his all-armament sight, his foot on the machine-gun pedal and his fingers on the rocket buttons. The highway below was jammed with geeks, and they were all stopped dead and staring upward, as though hypnotized by the lights. It was obviously a mob. A second later, they had recovered and were shooting-not at the airjeep, but at the four globes of blazing magnesium. Then he had the close-packed mass of non-humanity in his sights; he tramped the pedal and began punching buttons. He still had four rockets left by the time the mob was behind him.
"All right, let's take another pass at them. Same direction."
The driver put the airjeep into a quick loop and came out of it in front of the mob, who now had their backs turned and were staring in the direction in which they had last seen the vehicle. Again, von Schlichten plowed them with rockets and harrowed them with his guns. Some of the Skilkans were trying to get over the high fences on either side of the road-really stockades of petrified tree-trunks. Others were firing, and this time they were shooting at the airjeep. It took one hit from a heavy shellosaur-rifle, and immediately the driver banked and turned away from the road, heading back.
The Second H. Beam Piper Omnibus Page 46
