"Aye, they've just been paid. But they have little love for him and will change sides as soon as the battle is lost."
"Better and better. Fall in with the ranks, scouts out ahead, start this machine."
The last was directed at me as he climbed back to his seat. I kicked it into gear and the advance continued again. There were no more interruptions and we proceeded, with hourly rest breaks, towards the enemy keep. It was well before dawn when we came to the scouts waiting on the road. This was the spot I had picked. The keep of Capo Doccia was around the next bend. "I will post your lockout now," the capo said.
"Agreed. My knave here will show them the exact spot where they are to stay hidden, in sight of the gate. I waited until he was out of earshot before I whispered my instructions to Dreng.
"Take your bag and everything you possess with you- because you are not coming back."
"I do not understand, master. . . ."
"You will if you shut up and listen instead of talking. Lead the soldiers to the bushes where we hid, when we were getting ready to rescue The Bishop. You do remember the place?"
"It is past the burnt tree over the hedge and . . ."
"Great, great-but I don't need the description. Take the soldiers as I said, show them where to hide, then lie close beside them. Soon after dawn things are going to get very, very busy. At that time you will do nothing, understand that-don't speak, just nod."
He did. "Fine. You just remain there when everyone rushes off. As soon as they are gone and no one is looking at you-slip away. Back into the woods and get to your home and lay low until the excitement is over. Then count your money and live happily ever after."
"Then-I will no longer be your knave?"
"Right. Discharged from the army with honor." He dropped to his knees and seized my hand, but before he could say anything I touched my finger to his lips.
"You were a good knave. Now be a good civilian. Move!" I watched him leave until he was swallowed up in the darkness. Dumb-but loyal. And the only friend that I had on this rundown planet. The only one that I wanted! Now that The Bishop . . .
This morbid turn of thought was happily interrupted by the capo who clambered back to his seat. He was followed by armed soldiers until the upper works of the car were packed solid with them. The capo squinted up at the sky.
"There is the first light. It will be dawn soon. Then it will begin."
After that we could only wait. The tension so thick in the air that it was hard to breathe. Blurred faces began to emerge from the darkness, all of them set in the same grim expression.
I concentrated on what was happening around the bend, remembering the way it had been when Dreng and I had lain out there. Watching and waiting. The locked gate of the keep, the drawbridge up, all of it growing clearer as the sun rose. Smoke from cooking fires drifting up from behind the thick walls. Then the stirring of the soldiery, changing of the guards. At last the gate unlocked, the drawbridge lowered. Then what? Would they keep to the same routine? If they did not our force would soon be discovered....
"The signal!" the capo said as he crashed his elbow hard into my ribs.
He didn't have to. I had seen the soldier wave the Instant that he had appeared. My foot was already jammed down on the accelerator and we were picking up speed. Around the bend in the road, bouncing and swaying on the ruts, then straight ahead towards the entrance to the keep.
The guards looked up and gaped as we shot towards them. The slaves pulling the cart stared too, frozen and unmoving.
Then the shouting started. The drawbridge creaked as they tried to raise it, but the cart and slaves were still on it. There were kicks and screamed orders and every second of wasted time brought us that much closer. They finally started to drag the cart back through the gate-but it was too late.
We were upon them. The front wheels hit the drawbridge and we bounced into the air, coming down with a splintering crash. I stood on the brakes as we plowed into the cart. Slaves and guards were diving into the moat to escape destruction as we skidded, with locked wheels, right into the mouth of the gate.
"For Capo Dimonte, for groats, and for God!" The capo shouted as he leapt to the attack.
The others leapt with him, walking over my back as I crouched down, jumping onto the drawbridge then through the gate.
There was screaming and shouting, the banging of guns. From behind me a growing roar of voices from the rest of the attacking army. I could see that the capo and his men were fighting inside the gate and had captured the drawbridge mechanism from the soldiers who were trying to raise it. Raising it had of course been impossible because of the great weight of the car resting on it. That had been the beauty and simplicity of my plan. Once I had arrived the drawbridge had to stay down. Only now did I trundle forward so that the rest of the troops had a clear way to the gate.
The battle for the keep of Capo Doccia was joined.
CHAPTER THIRTY
This was a surprise attack that really had been a surprise. Our invading forces were pouring across the drawbridge and into the keep even as Capo Doccia's soldiers were emerging from their quarters. The guards on the wall fought fiercely, but they were outnumbered.
To add to the confusion I turned on the steamer sound effects and hung onto the whistle as I charged at the defenders who were trying to group up ahead. A few shots were fired at me, but most of the soldiers dived aside and ran. I screeched about and saw that the battle was going very well indeed.
The defenders on the walls were raising their hands in surrender. Being outnumbered from the start, and having little reason to fight for the capo as we had been told, they were eager to save their lives. Near the inner gate a group of officers were showing more spirit and a fierce battle was going on there. But one by one they were cut down or clubbed into submission. Two of them fled for the building but found the heavy door slammed in their faces, "Bring torches!" the Capo Dimonte shouted. "We'll smoke the buggers out!"
The battle had ended as swiftly as it had begun. The gate, walls and courtyard were in our hands. Huddled corpses showed the ferocity of the brief engagement. Slaves shivered in fear against the walls while the soldiers who had surrendered were being marched off. Only the central building remained in the hands of the defenders, Capo Dimonte knew exactly what to do about this. He waved a smoking torch over his head and called out loudly.
"All right, Doccia, you fat-bellied toad, this is your end. Come out and fight like a man you worm, or I'll burn you out. And burn alive every man, woman, child, dog, rat, pigeon who stays in there with you. Come out and fight, you ugly piece of vermin—or remain and be cooked like a roast!"
A gun fired from inside and a bullet spanged from the cobbles at the capo's feet. He waved his red-drenched sword and a blast of gunfire roared out as our troops fired en masse. Bullets zinged from the stonework, thudded into the sealed door, and whistled in through the windows. When the firing stopped, shrill screaming could be heard from inside the building.
"One warning only!" Capo Dimonte called out. "I do not war on women or on good soldiers who surrender. Lay down your arms and you will go free. Resist and you will be burned alive. There is only one I want—that pig, Doccia. Hear that, Doccia, you lout, swine, worm . . ." And more, once he warmed to the subject. The torch crackled and smoked and there was the sound of muffled shouting and scuffling from inside the building.
Then the door burst open and Capo Doccia came rolling down the steps end over end. He was barefooted, halfdressed—but he was holding his sword.
At the sight of his enemy Capo Dimonte lost whatever little remaining cool he had left. He howled with anger and rushed forward. Doccia climbed to his feet, blood on his face, and raised his sword in defense.
It was a sight to watch—and everyone did. There was an undeclared truce as the two leaders battled. The soldiers lowered their weapons and faces appeared at all of the windows above them. I climbed out of my seat and stood on the front of the car, where I had a perfect view
of the combatants.
They were well-matched, both in anger and ability. Dimonte's sword crashed down on Doccia's raised blade. He did a neat parry, then thrust—but Dimonte had moved back. After that it was steel on steel, punctuated by grunted breaths.
Back and forth across the cobbles they went, slashing away as if their lives depended on it. Which, of course, they did. It was pretty primitive saber work, slash and parry, but it certainly was energetic. A cry went up as Dimonte drew first blood—a cut on Doccia's side that quickly stained his shirt.
This was the beginning of the end. Dimonte was stronger and angrier, high on victory. If Doccia had been drinking as much as we had been told he was also fighting a hangover as well as his enemy. Dimonte began pressing harder and harder, slashing remorselessly, pushing the other capo relentlessly across the courtyard. Until his back was to the wall of the building and he could retreat no more. Dimonte beat down the other's guard, hammered him on the jaw with the hilt of his sword—then disarmed Capo Doccia with a savage twist of his blade.
All of his plans for sadistic torture were washed away in the passion of his anger. He drew the blade back—then slashed out.
It was not an attractive sight as the sharp steel tore across Doccia's throat. It sickened me and I turned away. Just as the shadow darkened the sun.
One person looked up, then another—and there was a gasp. I looked too. Only unlike the rest of them I knew exactly what I was looking at.
The immense shining form of a D-class spacer that was equipped with atmospheric G-lift. Tonnes of ship drifting light as a feather over the courtyard. Coming to an effortless stop. Hanging there over our heads in silent menace.
I turned and dived for the controls. There was no time to escape, no way to escape. I was scratching at the storage compartment as the first silvery spheres fell free of the ship. I gave them one horrified glance—then took a deep breath and held it as I pulled the compartment door open and plunged my arm inside. Grabbing up the leather bag as I sat back onto the driver's seat.
All around me the spheres were hitting and bursting, releasing their loads of gas. I dropped the bag onto my lap as the first soldiers crumpled and fell. My fingers fumbled at the seat belt, lengthening it, as Capo Dimonte tottered then fell forward onto his dead enemy's body.
There was a stinging in my nostrils as I snapped the belt buckle over the bag, sealing it against me. And that was all that I could possibly do.
My lungs were beginning to hurt as I took a last, long look around the courtyard. I had the strong feeling that it would also be my last sight of the fair world of Spiovente.
"Good riddance!" I shouted at the now silent forms, blasting the breath from my lungs. Then breathed in. . . .
I was conscious, I knew that. I could feel something soft under my back and there was a light burning down on my closed eyelids. I was afraid to open them—remembering the blasting headache that had accompanied the last gassing. With this thought I cringed and moved my head.
And felt nothing. Emboldened by this tiny experiment, I let one eye open a crack. Still nothing. I blinked in the strong light but there was no pain, no pain at all.
"A different gas, thank you kindly," I said to no one in particular as I opened my eyes wide.
A small room, curved metal walls, a narrow bunk under me. Even if my last sight had not been of the hovering spacer, I should have been able to figure this one out. They .had taken me aboard. But where were all my groats? I looked around rapidly, but they were certainly not in sight. The rapid movements of my head had brought on an attack of dizziness so that I fell back onto the bunk and groaned in loud self-pity.
"Drink this. It will eliminate the symptoms of the gas." I snapped my eyes open again and looked at the big man who was just closing the door behind him. He was in uniform of some kind, with plenty of gold buttons and stripes, the sort of thing much favored by the military. He was holding out a plastic beaker which I seized gingerly and sniffed.
"We had plenty of time to poison or kill you while you were unconscious," he said. A sound argument. I drained the bitter liquid and instantly felt better.
"You have stolen my money," I said just as he was beginning to speak.
"Your money is safe—"
"It will be safe only when it is in my hands. As it was when you found me, strapped to my body. Whoever took it is a thief."
"Don't talk to me of thievery!" he snapped. "You probably stole it yourself."
"Prove it! I say I worked hard for that money and I don't intend to have it stolen for the space-war widows pension scheme. . . ."
"That is enough. I did not come here to talk about your miserable groats. They will be placed on deposit in the galactic bank. . . ."
"At what rate of exchange? And what kind of interest will it earn?"
He was coldly angry now. "That's enough. You are in deep trouble—and you have a lot of explaining to do. Professor Lustig tells me that your name is Jim. What is your entire name and where do you come from?"
"My name is Jim Nixon and I am from Venia."
"We will get nowhere if you persist in lying. Your name is James diGriz and you are an escaped convict from Bit 0' Heaven."
Well, as you can imagine, I did some rapid blinking at this information. Whoever this lad was he had one hell of an intelligence network, I could see that I was no longer playing the amateur team of the professors. They had called in the pros. And he had thrown me this curve ball to catch me off-balance, get me rattled, get me to talk freely. Except I did not work that way. I shifted mental gears, sat up in the bed so I could see him eye to eye, and spoke calmly.
"We have not been introduced."
The anger was gone now and he was as calm as I was. He turned and pressed a button on the wall that unfolded a metal chair. He sat down on it and crossed his legs.
"Captain Varod of the League Navy. Specializing in planetary mop-up details. Are you ready to answer questions?"
"Yes—if you will tradme one for one. Where are we?"
"About thirteen light-years out of Spiovente, you'll be happy to hear."
"I am."
"My turn. How did you get to that planet?"
"Aboard a Venian freighter that was smuggling weapons to the now deceased Capo Doccia."
That got his attention all right. He leaned forward eagerly as he spoke. "Who was the captain of the freighter?"
"You are out of turn. What are you going to do with me?"
"You are an escaped prisoner and will be returned to Bit 0' Heaven to serve out your prison sentence."
"Really?" I smiled insincerely. "Now I will be happy to answer your question—except I have completely forgotten the captain's name. Would you care to torture me?"
"Don't play games, Jim. You are in deep trouble. Cooperate and I will do what I can for you."
"Good. I remember the name and you put me down on a neutral planet and we call it quits."
"That is impossible. Records are kept and I am an officer of the law. I must return you to Bit 0' Heaven."
"Thanks. I just got terminal amnesia. Before you leave would you tell me what is going to happen to Spiovente?" He sat back in the chair with no intention at all of leaving.
"The first thing that will happen will be the termination of Lustig's disastrous intervention. We were forced into that by the Intergalactic Applied Socioeconomics Association. They manage to raise sufficient funds to put into effect some of their theories. A number of planets financed them and it was easier to let them make idiots of themselves than to try and stop them."
"And they have done that now?"
"Completely. They have all been shipped out and were very happy to go. Having political and economic theories is one thing. But applying them to harsh reality can be a traumatic experience. This has been done in the past— and always with disastrous results. We know none of the details now, they are lost in the mists of time, but there was an insane doctrine called Monetarism that is reputed to have destroyed whole cultures
, entire planets. Now another experiment has gone astray, so the specialists will move in as they should have done in the first place."
"Invasion?"
"You have been watching to much tri-D. War is forbidden and you should know better than to suggest that. We have people who will work within the existing society of Spiovente. Probably with this Capo Dimonte, since he has Just doubled his domain. He will be aided and encouraged to grow in power, to annex ftiore and more territory. "
"And kill more and more people!"
"No, we will see to that. Very soon he will not be able to rule without aid and our bureaucrats are waiting to help him. Centralized government . . ."
"The growth of the judiciary, taxes, I know the drill. You sound just like Lustig."
"Not quite. Our techniques are proven—and they work. Within one generation, two at the most, Spiovente will be welcomed into the family of civilized planets."
"Congratulations. Now, please leave so I can sit and brood about my future incarceration."
"And you still won't tell me the name of the gunrunner? He could continue in his smuggling operations—and you would be responsible for more deaths."
I would be too. Was I responsible for the dead in the courtyard of the keep as well? The attack had been my idea. But Dimonte would have attacked in any case and there could have been even more dead. The acceptance of responsibility was not done easily. Captain Varod must have been reading my mind.
"Do you have a sense of responsibility?" he asked. Good question. He was a shrewd old boy.
"Yes, I do. I believe in life and the sanctity of life and I do not believe in killing. Each of us has only one go at life and I don't want to be responsible for cutting short anyone else's. I think I have made some mistakes and I hope I have learned by them. The name of the gunrunner is Captain Ga . . ."
"Garth," he said. "We know him and have been watching him. He has made his last voyage."
My thoughts spun rapidly. "Then why ask me if you knew all along?"
"For your sake, Jim, nobody else's. I told you that our job was rehabilitation. You have made an important decision and I believe that you will be a better individual for it. Good luck in the future." He stood to leave.
The Stainless Steel Rat is Born Page 21