after the leaves were shredded anddried, they went into storage warehouses. The invaders had set up apatrol system around Xedii which prevented the slow cargo ships fromtaking off or landing. A few adventurous space officers managed to get aship out now and then, but those few flights could hardly be calledregular trade shipments.
The cool of winter had come when Chief Samas did something he had neverdone before. He called all the men in the barony to assemble before themain gate of the castle enclosure. He had a speech to make.
For the first time, Anketam felt a touch of apprehension. He got hiscrew together, and they walked to the castle in silence, wondering whatit was that The Chief had to say.
All the men of the barony, except those who couldn't be spared fromtheir jobs, were assembled in front of Chief Samas' baronial castle.
The castle itself was not a single building. Inside the four-foot-highthorn hedge that surrounded the two-acre area, there were a dozenbuildings of hard, irridescent plastic shining in the sun. They alllooked soft and pleasant and comfortable. Even the thorn hedge, filledas it was by the lacy leaves that concealed the hard, sharp thorns,looked soft and inviting.
Anketam listened to the soft murmur of whispered conversation from themen around him. They stood quietly outside the main gate that led intothe castle area, waiting for The Chief to appear, and wondering amongthemselves what it was that The Chief had to say.
"You think the invaders have won?"
Anketam recognized the hoarse whisper from the man behind him. He turnedto face the dark, squat, hard-looking man who had spoken. "It couldn'tbe, Jacovik. It couldn't be."
The other supervisor looked down at his big, knuckle-scarred handsinstead of looking at Anketam. He was not a handsome man, Jacovik; hisgreat, beaklike nose was canted to one side from a break that had comein his teens; his left eye was squinted almost closed by the scar tissuethat surrounded it, and the right only looked better by comparison. Hiseyebrows, his beard, and the fringe of hair that outlined his bald headmade an incongruous pale yellow pattern against the sunburnt darkness ofhis face. In his youth, Jacovik had been almost pathologically devotedto boxing--even to the point of picking fights with others in hisvillage for no reason at all, except to fight. Twice, he had beenbrought up before The Chief's court because of the severe beating he hadgiven to men bigger than he, and he had finally killed a man with hisfists.
Chief Samas had given him Special Punishment for that, and a finalwarning that the next fight would be punished by death.
Anketam didn't know whether it was that threat, or the emotionalreaction Jacovik had suffered from killing a man, or simply that he hadhad some sense beaten into his head, but from that moment on Jacovik wasa different man. He had changed from a thug into a determined, ambitiousman. In twenty-two years, he had not used his fists except to disciplineone of his crew, and that had only happened four times that Anketam knewof. Jacovik had shown that he had ability as well as strength, that hecould control men by words as well as by force, and The Chief had madehim a supervisor. He had proved himself worthy of the job; next toAnketam, he was the best supervisor in the barony.
Anketam had a great deal of respect for the little, wide-shouldered,barrel-chested man who stood there looking at the scars on the backs ofhis hands.
Jacovik turned his hands over and looked at the calloused palms. "How dowe know? Maybe the Council of Chiefs has given up. Maybe they'veauthorized the President to surrender. After all, we're not fighters;we're farmers. The invaders outnumber us. They've got us cut off by ablockade, to keep us from sending out the harvest. They've got machinesand weapons." He looked up suddenly, his bright blue eyes lookingstraight into Anketam's. "How do we know?"
Anketam's grin was hard. "Look, Jac; the invaders have said that theyintend to smash our whole society, haven't they? Haven't they?"
Jacovik nodded.
"And they want to break up the baronies--take everything away from theChiefs--force us farmers to give up the security we've worked all ourlives for. That's what they've said, isn't it?"
Jacovik nodded again.
"Well, then," Anketam continued remorselessly, "do you think the Chiefswould give up easily? Are they going to simply smile and shake handswith the invaders and say: 'Go ahead, take all our property, reduce usto poverty, smash the whole civilization we've built up, destroy thesecurity and peace of mind of millions of human beings, and then sendyour troops in to rule us by martial law.' Are they going to do that?Are they?"
Jacovik spread his big, hard hands. "I don't know. I'm not a Chief. Idon't know how their minds work. Do you? Maybe they'll think surrenderwould be better than having all of Xedii destroyed inch by inch."
Anketam shook his head. "Never. The Chiefs will fight to the very end.And they'll win in the long run because right is on their side. Theinvaders have no right to change our way of living; they have no rightto impose their way of doing things on us. No, Jac--the Chiefs willnever give up. They haven't surrendered yet, and they never will.They'll win. The invaders will be destroyed."
Jacovik frowned, completely closing his left eye. "You've always beenbetter at thinking things out that I, Ank." He paused and looked down athis hands again. "I hope you're right, Ank. I hope you're right."
* * * * *
In spite of his personal conviction that he was right, Anketam had toadmit that Jacovik had reason for his own opinion. He knew that many ofthe farmers were uncertain about the ultimate outcome of the war.
Anketam looked around him at the several hundred men who made up thefarming force of the barony. His own crew were standing nearby, mixingwith Jacovik's crew and talking in low voices. In the cool winter air,Anketam could still detect the aroma of human bodies, the smell of sweatthat always arose when a crowd of people were grouped closely together.And he thought he could detect a faint scent of fear and apprehension inthat atmosphere.
Or was that just his imagination, brought on by Jacovik's pessimism?
He opened his lips to say something to Jacovik, but his words diedunborn. The sudden silence in the throng around him, the abruptcessation of whispering, told him, more definitely than a chorus oftrumpets could have done, that The Chief had appeared.
He turned around quickly, to face the Main Gate again.
The Main Gate was no higher than the thorn-bush hedge that it pierced.It was a heavily built, intricately decorated piece of polishedgoldwood, four feet high and eight feet across, set in a sturdy goldwoodframe. The arch above the gate reached a good ten feet, giving The Chiefplenty of room to stand.
He was just climbing up to stand on the gate itself as Anketam turned.
Chief Samas was a tall man, lean of face and wide of brow. Hissmooth-shaven chin was long and angular, and his dark eyes were deeplyimbedded beneath heavy, bushy eyebrows.
And he was dressed in clothing cut in a manner that Anketam had neverseen before.
He stood there, tall and proud, a half smile on his face. It was severalseconds before he spoke. During that time, there was no sound from theassembled farmers.
"Men," he said at last, "I think that none of you have seen this uniformbefore. I look odd in it, do I not?"
The men recognized The Chief's remark as a joke, and a ripple oflaughter ran through the crowd.
The Chief's smile broadened. "Odd indeed. Yes. And do you perceive thegolden emblems, here at my throat? They, and the uniform, indicate thatI have been chosen to help lead the armed forces--a portion of them, Ishould say."
He smiled around at the men. "The Council of Chiefs has authorized thePresident to appoint me a Colonel of Light Tank. I am expected to leadour armored forces into battle against the damned Invaders."
A cheer came from the farmers, loud and long. Anketam found himselfyelling as loud as anyone. The pronunciation and the idiom of the speechof the Chiefs was subtly different from those of the farmers, butAnketam could recognize the emphasis that his Chief was putting on thewords of his speech. "Invaders." With a capital "I."
"I will be gone for some time," he said somberly. "The Council feelsthat it will be two or three years before we have finally driven theInvaders from our planet. This will not be a simple war, nor an easyone. The blockade of orbital ships which encircle Xedii keep us frommaking proper contact with any friends that we may have outside thecircle of influence of the damned Invaders. We are, at the moment,fighting alone. And yet, in spite of that--in _spite_ of that, I say--wehave thus far held the enemy at a standstill. And, in the long run, weshall win."
He took a deep breath then, and his baritone voice thundered out when hespoke.
"_Shall_ win? No! We
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