Revolt on War World c-3

by Jerry Pournelle

  "What kind of a deal did you make with him?"

  "Right before the trial, I had Jake sell all of my real estate holdings at fire-sale prices. The deal is, some of those buyers will give him a kickback when they resell. In turn, Jake has agreed to pay Henley a quarter million dollars if he returns with a password."

  "What password?"

  "The one I'll give him when we've landed safely on Haven with that case in hand."

  "Don't tell me any more."

  Kyle felt a little better. During the long trip, he observed that Tim was patiently asking crew members as much about Haven as he could. The information was spotty and colored with personal bias and faulty memories, but it was better than nothing.

  Kyle took notes on what Tim learned, since that was not Tim's style of behavior. Kyle still felt that he was no more than his brother's shadow, a passive observer with nothing of substance to contribute. Still, he was very glad that Tim was there.

  By the time the Olathe landed on Haven, Tim Eng was the most popular deportee on board. The circle of bodyguards in his employ had enlarged to a following that was informal but as loyal as a gang of deportees was ever going to be. Kyle didn't have the personality to inspire them the same way, but they understood that the brothers were a package deal.

  The ship landed at Castell City on Splash Island. Kyle dreaded the moment. All he could picture was toiling in some freezing mine until he dropped.

  As most of the deportees were herded into long lines headed into Castell City, Rollo Henley personally took Tim and Kyle aside. Their henchmen, numbering over thirty, were also drawn out of the line. Kyle shivered in the cool air of midday, watching.

  "I've made the arrangements we agreed on," said Henley. He was carrying the heavy black freezer case. "Here's an address for you in Castell City, in the warehouse district. One of the guards at the processing center will take you there; he's already been paid, so don't let him gouge you. The time is midnight." He handed Tim a slip of paper.

  "Midnight." Tim grinned. "How mysterious."

  "I've also arranged your contingency plans. Call the number on that paper. If you need those arrangements, they will be made. If not, you can take the cost back out in favors here locally."

  "Fair enough."

  Kyle hated this. They were talking in code as far as he was concerned. He would just have to wait until Tim took him into his confidence, maybe in private.

  Satisfied, Tim knelt, opened the freezer case, and glanced inside. Then he closed it again and held out his hand. "You're a man of your word, Henley. Thank you. And the word for you is, 'Temujin.' "

  "Say again?"

  "Temujin."

  "Temujin?" Henley shook hands with him. "There aren't many men whose word I'd trust over this kind of distance."

  "I have to trust Jake the same way, but I do," said Tim. "And I don't expect to get back there to check up on him. In your case, if anything does go wrong with Jake, you know where to look for me." He grinned. "In one of two places."

  "Good luck." Henley slapped him on the back. "I'm going to escort your group in separately to expedite your processing. After that, you're on your own."

  The processing was routine but boring. Kyle shivered in his standard deportee issue uniform as he stood in line, even after they were all inside the building. By now, he had already heard that Haven was very cold, its relatively small inhabitable area the best of a bad lot. This was no place for guys from Hawaii.

  Soon enough, Kyle learned what Henley's bribes had been able to accomplish and what they could not. For instance, Tim's group was sent to temporary housing together pending placement, but they were simply stuck in a comer of a large room with a couple of hundred other people. They were told that they would be sent to various jobs tomorrow. In the confusion, however, Kyle finally got Tim aside for a moment.

  "Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Kyle demanded. He rarely spoke to Tim so hotly, but he was frightened.

  "Lower your voice," said Tim calmly. He turned Kyle's shoulder away and spoke low in his ear. "Henley has put me into contact with a guy in Docktown. That's where the big warehouses are."

  "A guy?"

  "Some kind of labor boss, supposedly."

  "You mean a mobster." Kyle felt his stomach muscles tighten.

  "I'm hoping to cut a deal. Well all be better off working the docks and warehouses than down in the mines."

  "What about this wonderful mysterious freezer case?" Kyle nodded down at it, on the floor between Tim's feet. "I thought this was going to save us from disaster."

  "Once we find our place in this society, I'll know how to use it. Till then, just help me keep it safe."

  "And what's going to happen at this midnight meeting of yours?"

  "Of ours," Tim corrected. "We're all going."

  The guard whom Henley had bribed, a stout, grim-faced man named Grabowski, kept his word. Shortly before midnight, he walked with Tim and Kyle through the cold, dark streets of Castell City. All of Tim's henchmen followed after them, probably as scared as Kyle was and just as determined not to let it show.

  Kyle clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. In the uneven streetlight, the warehouses loomed large and dark on each side of them. He carried the freezer case because they couldn't risk leaving it behind and Tim wanted to concentrate on other matters.

  The walk took nearly an hour. Grabowski finally stopped at the big bay twin doors of a warehouse. He pressed an exterior button that rang a buzzer inside. Then the big doors rumbled upward on their tracks.

  Grabowski stepped away. Kyle decided he didn't want to risk getting involved. It was just as well.

  Inside the doors, right in front of Tim and Kyle, stood a crowd of big, rough, brawny men in work clothes. Kyle estimated there were at least a hundred of them, though in the shadows he couldn't be sure he saw them all. The man standing in front was about fifty, with a barrel chest and thick bull neck straining at the spotless white dress shirt and expensive suit he wore. He was flanked on each side by a man dressed similarly.

  "Which one of you is Tim Eng?" he demanded.

  "I am," said Tim. "You're Demopoulis?"

  He nodded once, slightly. His face was hard, nearly motionless as he spoke. "This meeting with me has already cost you a lot of money," said Demopoulis. "You don't get any of it back, no matter what happens. Now what's so important that you dragged me out here at this time of night?"

  "We want to work for you," said Tim.

  "No."

  "Well earn our way," said Tim. "No handouts. Just let us join you."

  "No. Off to the mines with all of you."

  "Any terms you want," said Tim, smiling his most disarming smile. "I'll make the deal with you and keep my guys in line. Maybe we can help you expand your operation."

  "No. If that's all you want, our business is concluded."

  Tim took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips. "It won't hurt you any to tell me why."

  Demopoulis stared at him in silence. Finally, he gave just the faintest hint of a smile. "All right, it won't hurt me any. It sure won't." He pointed at Tim with a stubby finger. "This doesn't happen to me. Nobody reaches me from a transport ship that hasn't even landed yet and nobody comes to me with a bunch of soldiers lined up. I don't know much else about you, hotshot, but you're not the kind of man who works for anyone else by choice. Not for long, anyway. You're too much like me. And I'm not giving you any foothold here in my turf. Got it?"

  Tim stared back at him for a moment, and then laughed. "Got it."

  "I don't think your men have got it yet," said Demopoulis. Suddenly, without moving, he yelled, "Get 'em, boys!"

  The mob surged forward. Kyle yanked the heavy freezer case up to his chest and wrapped his arms around it, trying to back away. The thirty or so men behind him, however, were caught off guard. He collided with the guys just in back of him, who were preparing to defend themselves.

  In the roiling mob, Kyle ducked low and managed to shove him
self backwards and to the side. Most of Tim's followers were running, but the ones in the very front were outflanked and then surrounded before they could get away. Then sirens and the roar of large personnel carriers reached Kyle as he was shoved and buffeted in the crowd.

  Shouts went up on all sides from the men around him, and the immediate violence was halted. Searchlights shot through the darkness, blinding Kyle. He could just see the silhouettes of armed, uniformed men leaping to the ground and spreading out in formation.

  A strong hand grabbed his upper arm. "Easy, Kyle," Tim said softly in his ear. "Well be okay. Stay calm. They're CoDo Marines."

  "They're what?"

  "CoDominium Marines. They'll just take us back where we belong."

  "They sure got here fast."

  "Fast, nothing. That Grabowski must have alerted them. He's playing all three sides, setting up this meeting for money and also making sure no real trouble happens."

  "Everyone freeze," a loud voice ordered over a bullhorn. "Do not move. You are covered. Deportees remain where you are."

  "No problem," said Tim easily, to Kyle. "The freezer case okay?"

  "Yeah."

  "Good. Looks like it's time for our contingency plan."

  The CoDo Marines simply sorted out the deportees and herded them back to their facility, as Tim had predicted. When they returned, Kyle noticed that Grabowski was off shift. The next morning, Tim gave a friendly but apologetic farewell to his erstwhile followers. They took it well; what would happen to them now was no worse than what they had expected when they had first been convicted.

  Kyle was surprised, though, after breakfast in the cafeteria. Tim, now carrying the freezer case himself, steered him out of the corridor to where Grabowski was standing. He still didn't smile much.

  "Pretty slick move last night," Tim said to him with a grin.

  "You could have been killed in the confusion," said Grabowski. "This way, Mr. D is happy; I keep my job; and you're still healthy."

  "Like I said, pretty slick. Now, then. Where do we go now?"

  "We'll get your duffels and go to the heliport."

  "Is there going to be any trouble about not processing us for the mines?" Kyle asked.

  "Not if you stay right next to me."

  They did. By now, Kyle had decided that asking Tim questions in front of other people was a waste of time at best, and maybe a serious mistake at worst. As usual, he followed Tim's lead in silence.

  Out at the heliport, they mounted a large cargo helicopter. Grabowski nodded briefly to the pilot and everyone was outfitted with oxygen. Then they took off with a suddenness that left Kyle's stomach lurching as the ground fell away under them. No one spoke as they flew over the Shangri-La Valley to the north, but Tim held a map in his hands and constantly compared it to the slowly moving map screen on the console of the chopper.

  The chopper droned on. Eventually, Kyle saw first foothills and then a rugged mountain range beneath them. The chopper fairly skimmed over the peaks, at minimum altitude.

  The huge mountains below them continued kilometer after kilometer. Kyle finally turned to Tim. "Where are we going now?"

  Tim turned his map and marked a spot with his thumbnail. "To the foothills on the far side of this range. They're safer than the steppes beyond it."

  "Foothills?"

  Tim grinned, slapped him on the back, and leaned away.

  Finally the chopper began to descend. Kyle watched in near-disbelief as he saw the rugged wilderness that grew larger in his vision. No sign of human habitation existed anywhere he could see.

  The pilot tossed them both heavy parkas before they got out. All four of them debarked and the pilot opened the cargo bay. Kyle had thought he was beyond further shock, but he was wrong.

  Two of the large, furry Haven creatures called muskylopes were inside the cargo bay. They were already in harness, to a wagon laden with goods covered by a tarp. Grabowski climbed up the ramp to lead them out.

  "Oh, no." Kyle groaned aloud.

  Tim jumped forward to help Grabowski. In a moment, the wagon was out of the cargo bay. The pilot immediately closed it up.

  "All right," said Grabowski. "The wagon has dry supplies for two men for thirty days if you're careful and hunt on the way. The water will only last you a week if you ration, but refilling won't be a problem. You have heavy clothes, blankets, and sleep cocoons. The weapons aren't much by Terran standards-some old Armalite rifles with ammunition, several bows and plenty of arrows. Some revolvers, too. That's where most of your money went."

  Tim took a moment to throw back the plastic tarp on the wagon and check the contents.

  Kyle stared at the wagon sullenly. He could think of nothing to say. The only alternative was returning to Castell City and its mines.

  Tim turned and offered his hand to Grabowski. "We're square."

  Grabowski shook with him, but didn't smile. "You're too trusting. If Henley wasn't an old pal, I could have sent you to the mines and kept the money."

  "Henley chose well. Thanks." Tim nodded to the pilot as well, and stood back. He and Kyle waited for the chopper to leave.

  Kyle inhaled the cold, dry air and watched the helicopter rise into the sky. At last, more than leaving Terra and more than leaving Castell City, this was the end of everything he had known.

  Except Tim.

  "Climb aboard!" Tim called heartily.

  As Kyle did so, Tim found a place for the black freezer case in the back of the wagon just behind the seat. He pulled back the plastic tarp to make sure the sunlight could reach the solar cells on the case and then hoisted his big duffel of cash and liquor alongside it. Then he mounted the seat next to Kyle.

  "Where are we going?" Kyle asked. "Do you actually know what you're doing?"

  Tim shook the reins and started the team moving north. "I never know exactly what I'm doing, didi. But I'll tell you where we're headed. You just keep an eye out for anyone following us. This is a pretty wild planet, I hear, and you're riding shotgun. Remember the target shooting we did as teenagers?"

  "Shooting! I haven't shot in years." Alarmed, Kyle looked around in all directions. The land around them was a narrow valley surrounded by steeply rising, forested hills. It was totally deserted. Right now, it was hard to believe that anyone else could be within hundreds of miles of here.

  "Aw, no need to panic," said Tim easily. "But you might want to break out one of those old rifles so we can look it over."

  "Later," said Kyle. "I still want to know where we're going."

  "To the northern steppes," said Tim. "You have the background material in your notes."

  "I remember some of this," said Kyle. "But I have over a year's worth of notes and it's all packed up at the moment."

  "I memorized the important parts," said Tim. "Listen. Several rumors tell of steppe nomads living up there. Mongol tribes, central Asian tribes. . the crew members weren't sure. I don't think they could tell the difference. But there aren't many of them yet, and they're a long way from the CoDo authorities. I'm gambling that there's a good future to be carved out up there, over the mountains. We landed here so we could get started in private. The tribes on the steppes can be dangerous, especially if you just land abruptly."

  Kyle was silent a moment. "How far is it to the steppes?"

  "Nobody could tell me for sure. It'll be risky, but I have a line on a series of passes and valleys we can take. We'll have to be careful. Some of those valleys are already inhabited. I'm hoping to barter some of our Terran liquor for passage."

  "And that mysterious black case of yours?"

  "We'll camp early tonight. I'll have to brace the case up under the wagon somehow, out of sight. It only needs a few hours of sunlight every day to stay powered. It's a sure bet that if we meet people who want to search us, we'll have to let them."

  "I think I'll take a look at those guns," said Kyle.

  The trip northward was largely uneventful. The road led to occasional sources of water. At first, they rel
ied on their stores for food during this part of the trip. Perhaps the hardest adjustment was getting used to the 87-hour day and constant cold, for two born-and-bred sons of Hawaii.

  On the rare occasions when they encountered strangers, they both donned cartridge belts, stuck revolvers in them visibly, and held rifles at the ready. Still, they were careful to keep the rifles aimed skyward and to nod politely as they passed. Most of the strangers nodded back, just as warily, and went on. One lone wanderer on a tired horse tracked them at a distance for most of a day, but a warning shot from Tim finally drove him off. Kyle took over the driving chores the next day. He felt that job suited him. Tim was a better choice for riding shotgun.

  Eventually, they had to hunt out of necessity. In this endeavor, Kyle was actually a better shot, being more patient and deliberate. Before long, they had reached the first settlement, where two bottles of their best liquor and an extra rifle earned them a night's hospitality, including a dinner of hot, hearty, tasty, but unrecognizable stew.

  Tim warned Kyle not to ask the origins of their hosts. Haven was a planet where most arrivals were starting over with their last chance in life and sometimes they were sensitive of strangers who pried. Still, Kyle eyed their hosts carefully. They were herders, certainly, but not of an East Asian descent. By their appearance, he surmised that they were perhaps of a Central Asian stock, of mainly Turkish ancestry. In any case, their hospitality was genuine and they sent an escort to take the brothers to their own northern border.

  In like manner, Kyle and Tim journeyed on through the mountains from valley to valley. Several of their polite but heavily armed hosts indulged themselves in searches of the wagon's contents, but none stole them blind and none found the mysterious black case under the wagon. Each valley sent them on their way lighter in barter, but without harm.

  Kyle had never been so cold for so long in his entire life, but Tim never said a word of complaint. Then, just as the horizon ahead began to show empty sky, they reached one final valley. Only flatland lay beyond the last, distant ridge.