“They are not happy about this ammunition thing,” Morton said when the others had gone.
“Tough cagal. I am not happy about this killing thing. No ammo, no shooting. This will stop accidents happening.”
He adjusted the straps on his pack, still worrying. “They should be able to defend themselves …”
“Morton!” I ordered. “Look in the mirror. What do you see? You see Lieutenant Hesk staring back and you are beginning to think like him. Remember, Morton—you are a draft dodger, a man of peace, a reluctant soldier. Have you forgotten? Have you ever seen anyone killed?”
“Not really. My aunt died and I saw her in the coffin.”
“A man of the world … I’ve seen them die and it is not a nice thing to watch. And when you are dead you are dead forever, Morton. Remember that when you listen to the men of violence, the dogs of war, the sellers of hate. Do you want to die?”
As I said this I placed the point of my knife against his throat. His eyebrows went up and up and he gasped out a No! My knife vanished as quickly as it had appeared and I nodded.
“You know what—neither do I. And neither does anyone else on that planet down there where we are landing with thousands of military numbskulls, and I wonder how I ever got involved in all this!”
Morton sighed. “Like me, you got drafted.”
“And how we did! Like always, old men send young men to war. They ought to make the minimum draft age fifty-five. That would put an end to warfare pretty quickly let me tell you!”
An alarm sounded and all the lights blinked. I looked at my watch.
“This is it. Let’s go.”
The disembarkation hold was a red-lit hell of men, machines and equipment. I struggled between them to my command car which was poised at the top edge of the ramp. I kicked the shackles that held it down.
“They’re explosive,” Sergeant Blogh said. “They blow loose as soon as the ramp drops.”
“Seeing is believing. It is going to be very hard to drive out of here if they don’t. Has all the gear been loaded on this car like I ordered?”
“Just as you ordered, sir. Extra ammo under the back seat.”
I looked in and nodded agreement. I had filled a number of canteens with our hundred proof orange juice and stowed them in this ammunition box. Also stowed in the box, under a false bottom, was that talking spy bird I had been lumbered with. I could not leave it lying about for someone to find.
The floor pushed up at me and I kept my legs bent. We were doing a slow two G drop for the last part of the landing since we could not be lolling around on deceleration couches before going into combat. Except for superior officers, of course. I pushed hard and worked my way into the command car and sat down heavily next to the driver.
“Ignition on,” I ordered. “But don’t hit the starter until the ramp drops.”
The seat of the car came up and hit me just as the roar of the ship’s engines stopped. We bounced on the springs and there were loud explosions from all sides. Hopefully the shackles blowing loose. With a great creaking the ramp moved—then dropped.
“Start her up!” I shouted as rain blew in from the darkness outside. “And turn on the lights so we can see where we are going!”
The command car roared down the ramp and hit the ground with a great crash and splash as we plowed through a puddle. Nothing was visible ahead except for the rain sheeting through the beams of the headlights. We churned on into the darkness. When I looked backward I could see the files of laden soldiers coming after us.
“There is an awful lot of water ahead, sir,” the driver said, slamming on his brakes.
“Well turn you idiot, don’t drown us. Turn right and move away from the transport.”
Lightning split the sky and thunder rolled dramatically. I pounded the driver on the shoulder and pointed.
“There’s a hill there, a rise of some kind, beyond that row of trees. Get us to it.”
“That’s a fence there, captain!”
I sighed. “Ride us over it, driver, this is an armored combat vehicle not the little bicycle that you left at home with your mommy. Move it!”
When we ground to a halt on top of the low hill the rain was still just as fierce, but the sky was beginning to brighten with the first light of dawn. I moved the glowing map about to try and figure out where we were. At least I now knew where west was. Since, naturally, the sun on this planet rose in the west.
The rest of the company had reached the hill by this time so I had the vehicle’s lights turned off. I could see better now, but the only thing I could identify was the towering bulk of our transport behind us. Columns of men and machines were still pouring from it and rushing off into the rain. As the light grew I became aware of a range of hills on the horizon and I tried to find them on the map. It was broad daylight before I had our position pinned down.
“Right!” I said, climbing down and smiling at my damp troops. “I know that you will all be pleased to hear that the pilot of our craft made an error in our favor. We are over halfway to our objective.”
A ragged cheer followed and I held up the map.
“A close reading of this map also indicates that the rest of the troops that are now on their way to occupy the city of Bellegarrique have a very long way to go. Made longer by certain errors in navigation. If you will look after their disappearing ranks you will see that they are going in the opposite direction to the one they need.”
There was enthusiasm in their cheering now. Nothing builds the morale better than seeing someone else in the cagal. And the rain seemed to be lessening, changing to a sort of soupy mist. The rising sun touched this with red and revealed a distant white object above the trees. I climbed onto the hood to make sure. It was.
“All right, men. We are moving out. If you look in that direction you will see the dam which is our objective. The command car will follow. I shall lead you on foot as a good commander should.
“Advance!”
CHAPTER 16
Some celestial switch was thrown, just after sunrise, and the rain stopped. A light breeze blew away the clouds as we strolled on through the steaming landscape. We had been cutting across country, but came now to a paved road that appeared to lead toward the not-too distant dam. I sent out scouts, who reported no enemy activity—or no enemy at all for that matter. We followed the road which meandered down a gentle hillside planted with trees on both sides.
“Report from one of the scouts,” Sergeant called out. “He is in that orchard and says that the trees are covered with ripe aval-gwlanek.”
“Sounds repulsive. What are they?”
“A kind of fruit they grow in Zemlija. Delicious.”
“Tell him to bring a sample for analysis and evaluation.”
The scout quickly appeared with his helmet full of ripe peaches, or at least that is what we called awal-gwlanek on Bit O’Heaven. I picked one up and smelled it, then looked at the scout’s streaked face.
“Well, private, I see that you have already done an analysis and evaluation. How was it?”
“Yummy, captain!”
I took a bite and nodded in agreement as the sweet juice washed the lingering taste of the last hotpup from my teeth. “Fall out the troops, sergeant, take cover in that orchard, ten minute break.”
When we marched on the rumble of contented borborygmus sounded loud above the tramping boots. The dam grew closer, as did the generating plant and grouped buildings at its base. Water gushed from great pipes, while pylons and wires marched away toward the distant city. It looked peaceful and productive and there was no one in sight. I signaled a halt and sent for the NCOs.
“I will now outline our plan of attack. But before I do we will have a weapons inspection. Starting with you, First Sergeant.”
His face was expressionless as he passed me his gun. I pressed the magazine release, saw that it was empty, looked into the equally empty chamber and passed it back. I did this with the others and was quite pleased with myself un
til I reached the hulking form of Corporal Aspya. Instead of handing me his gun he held it across his chest.
“I can save you looking, captain. It’s loaded.”
“That was done despite my direct order, ex-corporal. Private, you will now hand me your weapon.”
“A soldier is not a soldier when he is unarmed, sir,” he said grimly, unmoving.
“That is true,” I said, going on to the next noncom. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him look around as though seeking aid. As soon as his eyes were off me I lashed back with my extended hand and caught him on the neck with the edge. It was a cruel blow: he had a loaded gun. He fell unconscious on the ground and I pulled the weapon from his limp hands, ejecting the cartridges one by one into the mud.
“Sergeant Blogh. I want this man in the command car, under guard and under arrest.”
“Is the guard to be armed, sir?”
“Guard to be armed, weapon to be loaded. Lieutenant Hesk will perform guard duty. Now, this is our plan of attack.”
They listened in silence, impressed by my quick violence. I was ashamed of striking the cowardly blow—but I wouldn’t let them know that. Better one sore neck than guns going off and people getting killed. I could trust Morton not to pull any triggers—and felt much better with him out of the way for the present. I assigned targets to every squad, but saved the main building for myself.
“So there it is. Get your men into position, then report back to me. When everything is covered I will enter and capture the control room. Now—move out.”
My bold little army dispersed, attacking by the book. Rushing forward a few at a time, covering each other. After a few minutes the noncoms began radioing in. Objectives reached, no opposition, no one seen yet. Now it was up to me. Followed by the first sergeant and his squad I marched resolutely up the steps of the generating station and threw open the door. It opened directly into the turbine room. The turbines spun, the generators turned, there was no one in sight.
“Fully automated,” the sergeant said.
“Looks that way. Let’s find the control room.”
Tension grew as we scuttled down the hallway. I was very glad that mine was the only loaded weapon. I kept the pistol in my hand—but the safety was on since I had no intention of pulling the trigger: it was a prop to cheer the troops.
“Someone is in there, captain. See!”
The soldier was pointing at a frosted-glass door. A man’s silhouette moved across it then vanished.
“Right, this is it, here we go, follow me!”
I took a deep breath—then threw the door open. Jumped inside and heard the squad move in after me. The gray-haired man stood in front of the control panel, tapping a dial.
“Ne faru nenion!” I shouted. “Vi estas kaptito. Manoj en la aeron!”
“How very interesting,” he said turning about and smiling. “Strangers speaking a strange tongue. Welcome, strangers, welcome to Bellegarrique Generating Plant Number One.”
“I can understand you!” I said. “You are speaking a dialect of Low Ingliss, that we speak on Bit O’Heaven.”
“Can’t say that I have heard of the place. Your accent is strange, but it certainly is the same language.”
“What is he saying?” the first sergeant asked. “You speak his lingo?”
“I do. Learnt it in school.” Which was true enough. “He is welcoming us here.”
“Anyone else around?”
“Good question. I’ll put it to him.”
“There are more staff, of course, but they’ll be asleep. Shift workers. You must tell me more about yourself and your friends. My name is Stirner. Might I ask yours?”
I started to answer, then drew myself up. This was no way to run a war. “My name is not important. I am here to tell you that this planet is now controlled by the armed forces of Nevenkebla. If you cooperate you will not be harmed.”
I translated this into Esperanto so my soldiers would know what was happening. And told the sergeant to pass the word about the shift workers. Stirner politely waited until I was finished before he spoke.
“This is all very exciting, sir! Armed forces you say? That would mean weapons. Are those weapons that you are carrying?”
“They are. And be warned—we will defend ourselves if attacked.”
“I wouldn’t concern myself with that. As a firm believer in Individual Mutualism I would never harm another.”
“But your army—or your police would!” I said, trickily.
“I know the words, of course, but you need not fear. There is no army here, nor do we have a police force. May I offer you some refreshments? I am being a very bad host.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I muttered. “Sergeant, get a connection to General Lowender’s staff. Tell them we have made contact with the enemy. No sign of resistance. Informant says no armed forces, no police.”
Closely watched by my gun-gripping troops, Stirner had opened a cabinet and removed a tall and interesting bottle. He set this on a table along with a tray of glasses.
“Wine,” he said. “A very good one, for special guests. I hope you and your associates will enjoy it.” He handed me a glass.
“You taste it first,” I said with military suspicion.
“Your politeness, nameless sir, puts me to shame.” He sipped then passed me a glass. It was very good.
“Got the general himself,” the sergeant called out urgently, running over with the radio. “Captain Drem speaking.”
“Drem—what does this report mean? Have you found the enemy?”
“I’ve occupied the generating plant, sir. No casualties. No resistance encountered.”
“You are the first to make contact. What are their defenses like?”
“Nonexistent, general. No resistance was offered of any kind. My prisoner states no military, no police.”
The general mades noises of disbelief. “I’m sending a chopper for you and the prisoner. I want to question him myself. Out.”
Wonderful. The last place I wanted to be was with the top brass. There was too good a chance of General Zennor appearing and recognizing me from the bad old days when he was known as Garth. Self-survival urged me to climb into a hole. But weighed against my personal needs was the chance that I might be able to save lives. If I could convince the military numbskulls that there really would be no resistance. If I didn’t do that, surely some trigger-happy cagal-kopf was sure to get nervous and start firing. All of his jumpy buddies would then join in and … It was a very realistic scenario. I had to make some effort to avoid it.
“An order from the general,” I told my expectant troops. “I’m to bring him the prisoner. Transport is on the way. You are in charge, Sergeant Blogh, until Lieutenant Hesk gets here to relieve you. Take over. And take care of the wine.”
He saluted and they were grabbing for the bottle when I left. Would such simple military pleasures were mine.
“You’re coming with me, “ I told Stirner, pointing toward to the door.
“No, my duty is here. I am afraid I cannot oblige you.”
“It is not me you are going to oblige, it is your own people. There is a big army out there. All of them armed with weapons like this. They are now invading your country and are taking it over. People could be killed. But lives can be saved if I take you to the commanding officer and you manage to convince him there will be no resistance from your people. Do you understand me?”
A look of horror had been growing on his face as I talked. “You are serious?” he gasped. “You mean what you are saying.” I nodded grimly. “Of course, then, yes. Incomprehensible, but I must come. I can’t believe this.”
“The feeling is mutual.” I led him to the door. “I can understand not having an army, all civilized worlds get by without the military. But the police, a necessary evil I would say.”
“Not for those who practice Individual Mutualism.” He was brightening up now at this chance to deliver a little lecture. “I never heard of it.”<
br />
“How unfortunate for you! At the risk of simplifying I will explain …”
“Captain Drem, I got to talk to you!” the fallen corporal said, climbing out of the command car despite Morton’s feeble efforts to stop him. He stopped in front of me, snapped to attention and saluted.
“I now see the error of my ways, sir. I thought because you are young and looked weak that I knew better than you, so I disobeyed an order and loaded my gun. I know now that I was wrong and you were right and I respectfully request a second chance since I am a thirty-year man and the army is my career.”
“And how do you know now that I was right, Private Aspya?”
He looked at me, eyes aglow. “Because you beat me, sir! Knocked me down, fair and square. A man gotta do what a man gotta do—and you did it!”
What kind of macho-cagal was this? He had disobeyed a reasonable command that was aimed at avoiding violence. Only when I had bashed him unconscious did he feel that I was right. The mind reeled at this kind of perverse, inverted logic—and I really didn’t have time to think about it. About all I could do was play along and forget about it.
“You know, ex-corporal, I think that I believe you. It takes a real man to admit that he was wrong. So even though you are a miserable low private and I am an on-high captain—I’m going to shake your hand and send you back to duty!”
“You’re a real man, captain, and you will never regret this!” He pumped away at my hand, then staggered off knuckling a tear from his eye. There was a growing clatter from the sky and shadow drifted across us and I looked up to see the chopper dropping down toward us.
“Morton—you’re in charge until I get back. Go to Sergeant Blogh and take command and let him make all the decisions and then agree with him.”
He could only nod as I guided Stirner to the chopper and climbed in behind him.
“Take us to the general,” I ordered the pilot. Then sighed heavily. I had the feeling that I was putting my head into the noose and settling it nicely around my neck.
But, really, I had no other choice.
The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection Page 36