His research had convinced him that Jumbo had the potential to regain civilization quickly. Once the locals were exposed to star technology all this 'magic' nonsense could be replaced by a drive to learn the new science. With the help and educational resources the colony could provide, Jumbo would be the equal of Santiago in less than a century.
He knew, of course, that the Greeners had no such plans. They simply wanted to build farms. They felt that over time, the locals would come to see the advantages of Greener farming techniques and tools, and would begin to copy them, spurring invention and technological development. The General shook his head in disdain. Even hiring local farm hands who would learn the new ways, and offering education to their children, it would take centuries to bring Jumbo into the present.
Look at Valhalla. That royal family had been using an old library to try to bring their domain up the ladder of civilization for over 70 years, and all they had to show for it was a railroad and a steam truck that blew up with annoying regularity.
No, Jumbo needed to be dragged into the future. That way, all interests would be served. His troops would have a worthwhile mission, the Greeners would have their pastoral paradise, the threat from the nomads would be removed, and Jumbo could spread and develop.
Of course, the interim might be a little rough. The Greeners would never go along with his ideas, for instance. They just wanted to farm in peace. And then, change is never easy. There would be a lot of resistance from the present power structure, the kings and the wizards. And, of course that was where the General and his troops came in.
The General dismissed the train of thought. All that no longer mattered. Rankin, Jenfu, and their people had killed the General's dream. He would have to do his best to salvage what he could, with emphasis on protecting the colony. Even if he and his troops must pay for it with their lives. So, how could he most effectively ensure the colony's survival?
********
"I can't believe you actually went along on that raid," Cale said with a frown as Explorer carried them back to Valhalla after returning the surviving raiders to their mountains. "We need you too badly for you to chase around on commando raids."
Zant shrugged. "You have to understand that these aren't disciplined troops we have. It was just a bunch of trappers off on a vacation adventure. I couldn't just sit on my fat butt giving orders. I had to lead the party, or there wouldn't be one." He grinned. "Besides, it was fun."
Zant's smile faded. "It cost a lot of lives, though. Six dead. I was the only one to come back by river," he added. "The other four made it back to the forest. So, what did those six lives buy us?"
Cale's expression cleared. "There's still a lot of smoke, so we can't see everything," he said, "But you definitely got the flitter and the disruptor. And we're pretty sure you got the lasers. So, you got the three main targets. The Great Hall is still burning. The warehouse you bombed burned, but it got a lot of attention from the fire brigades. Whatever's in there is important. They really worked to save what they could.
"It looks like your boys mostly went after the soldiers rather than the equipment. They really hit Militia Farms. There were fires in barracks and mess halls, but almost every building in officers' housing was hit." He smiled."I was worried that they would take out the Greeners, but it seems they left the farmers alone."
"So now what?" Zant asked.
Cale shrugged. "I don't know. I think it's time for a strategy session. We need at least Tonio, and maybe even the king in on this. We need to try to figure out what the General will do now."
"If I were the General," Tonio said when they were all assembled, "and I had lost nearly half my forces, I'd pull back. He's got too much area to guard. I think he'll pull back to Nirvana, and maybe even to New Home."
Zant shook his head. "I don't think so. Oh, he may pull out of Gorby. But his troops are Spec Ops. Those guys can't sit around long without going nuts. I think he's got a real problem. He can't sit still; the snipers will bleed him dry."
Cale frowned. "I dunno, Zant. The General is driven by duty. He won't abandon the Greeners. Protecting the colony will be his highest priority."
King Rajo's eyebrows rose. "You think he will keep faith with those he imprisons?"
Zant frowned. "Your Majesty, I know you think him a villain and criminal. But Ochoa-Mariden is a professional soldier. He may have a poor opinion of those he serves, but if he has taken an oath, he will do his duty to protect them unless he's killed."
Tonio nodded. "He told Cale that he had imposed martial law on the Greeners. That means that the military has assumed control. But in his view, he has done so in order to better protect them, not to subjugate them."
The king shook his head. "We do not understand star man thinking. He is faithless in order to be faithful?"
Cale frowned, considering how to best respond. "Your Majesty, you deal with a wide range of problems and issues for your people. But Ochoa-Mariden has what is called 'tunnel vision'. He sees things only in military terms, as though looking through a long tube. He can see nothing to either side, only what is straight ahead.
"His duty is to use his military force to protect the colony and help it grow. To the Greeners, that meant to patrol and protect them from the nomads while they went about their farming, and learned to live in peace with the people of Jumbo. But to the General, the nomads were not the only threat to the colony. The kings of Jumbo also threatened it. To the General, the only way to deal with a threat is to attack it. So, he attacked them."
The king was still shaking his head. "But King Karel was no threat. He had granted the star men the Cursed Lands, and had signed a treaty with them."
Tonio nodded. "True. But remember the General's tunnel vision, your Majesty. If King Karel changed his mind, or the Greeners somehow offended him, He could at least cut off their access to the settled section of Jumbo, leaving them at the mercy of the nomads, or at worst invade New Home himself. Ochoa-Mariden could not see the problem as a political one, to be solved by discussion and treaty; to him it was strictly military. He felt he had to conquer Nirvana to ensure the colony's access to the rest of the settled lands."
Cale smiled. "On my planet there is an old saying: 'To the man who has only a hammer, everything looks like a nail.' The General knows only the military; therefore every problem must have a military answer."
The king's face relaxed into a smile. "We have courtiers like that. The merchant sees every problem as involving taxes or credit, profit or loss."
Zant nodded, grinning. "Exactly, your Majesty."
King Rajo nodded. Then his face fell back into a frown. "You people obviously understand this man much better than We do. We will leave you to your deliberations. We must begin preparing for Our journey to Treaty."
Cale straightened. "Treaty? The nomads?"
The king sighed and nodded. "Yes. It is Our twice a year attempt to get the savages to see reason. All of the kings must attend." He smiled. "All the kings are certain that if they once miss a trade, that will be the time the nomads finally see reason, and they will be shut out of the agreements."
Cale nodded and turned to the others. "Treaty is the ruins of a small village King Gralen's father tried to establish. The nomads wiped out the villagers, but they somehow managed to arrange a cease-fire twice a year. For week in the Spring and another in the Fall traders from the villages are permitted to go to Treaty. The nomads come to them with furs, salted meats, trained dinos, and handicrafts to trade for things they can't make themselves. It's the only times villagers aren't simply slaughtered.
"I think it's essential that we go, too. It'll be our only chance to talk to the nomads." He shook his head. "I've been so concerned about the General that I completely forgot about the nomads!"
"Will your General come?" The king asked.
Cale shook his head. "I doubt it. Oh, he read my report, but I think he paid a lot more attention to their weapons than to chances to talk to them." He grinned. "May we offer your Majes
ty a ride to Treaty? We might as well try to impress them with a large spacecraft."
King Rajo shook his head. "Your ships are too small. We will be accompanied by twenty guardsmen and thirty traders with wagons or carts."
Cale grinned. "Don't count us out yet, your Majesty. We have a ship large enough to carry all that and more. And even better, it is armed, just in case."
"Weapons are not permitted in the village," the king replied. "But you could not land such a big ship in the village anyway." He smiled. "Still, that big ship towering over the village might make the nomads think this time."
"Especially if the weapons are showing," Zant added, grinning. "And the turrets on a Din-Class are very obvious."
"What about the General?" Tonio asked. "I'm not sure we can just ignore him for a week or ten days."
Zant shrugged. "We'll have to depend on the space station and Donord and Dee to keep us informed. If he starts gathering his troops, they'll know it."
Cale slapped his forehead. "Dee! I forgot about Dee. I'll never hear the end of it if she doesn't get to go on something like this."
Zant shook his head. "Sorry, Cale. She's just going to have to live with it. With all of us busy, what she's doing is too important. It won't help anyone if we make a deal with the nomads and then come back to find the General has taken over Valhalla."
Tor-Jen was delighted when they told him they needed a Din-class. "We've all been sitting up her counting our toes while you had all the fun. It's about time I got to visit that sheol-damned planet!"
They decided to use Greeners' Pride. Since she was empty, and one of her cargo holds had been partially converted to passenger accommodations, she was perfect for this mission.
Cale had Zant call Dee and Donord. Cale was right: Dee was furious at missing an adventure, but eventually she agreed that what she was doing was too important to leave.
Everyone in Valhalla Town cringed as Greener's Pride thundered down, its actinic glare briefly outshining even the sun, and even the king was impressed by the size of the huge starship. Crowds gathered to look at the big ship, some coming by train from outlying villages.
By the next morning the traders began gathering. There was no hurry. The trip to Treaty usually took almost a week. Since Greener's Pride would make it in less than half an hour, including takeoff and landing, they had plenty of time to load the ship, and to plan. Once they saw the size of this ship's cargo hold, Several traders hurried off to bring in extra wagons and carts filled with trade goods.
Tonio approached Cale and the king. "Your Majesty," he began, "I would like to suggest that you take several of our trained militia. Your Majesty might find it advisable to arrange a demonstration of their weapons and tactics. Any chief with half a brain is going to see that his people would be slaughtered in an attack against such.
"Cale, here, is planning to demonstrate the star weapons, and make certain the nomads know that the colonists have them. If your Majesty shows that Whitan, Terjo, Jesh, and Valhalla also have new weapons and tactics, the nomads might be ready to listen to reason."
The king frowned. "We usually do not expect militia to do anything but fight and die. But I remember the lesson sire Cale gave to my cavalry. By all means, pick a dozen of your best. The other kings could also benefit from such a demonstration."
Tonio bowed. "I will pick them and lead them myself, your Majesty."
The days plodded by in a never-ending parade of decisions, problems and minor crises, but finally all was in readiness. King Rajo and his entourage joined the other passengers already aboard, and Tor-Jen lifted off.
No building survived in Treaty; they had all been burned to the ground many years ago. But the bare dirt of the market area had grown over the years, and was now as large as that of Valhalla or Nirvana. A large tent had been erected along one edge of the market area to accommodate the nomad chiefs. Each of the kings had brought a smaller tent except Rajo who announced his intention to sleep aboard the ship. At the insistence of the nomads, all meetings would take place in their chiefs' tent.
Greeners' Pride's arrival sent panicked people and animals scattering in all directions, and tent walls flapping, the residents scurrying to reset them. Tor-Jen set her down well outside the blackened ruins, but no one could ignore the huge metal cylinder towering over them. Nor could they ignore the turrets that swiveled and tracked in search of a target: obvious threats, even if the watchers did not understand the specific nature of the threat.
By design, King Rajo had been the last to arrive. He joined Jorg of Terjo, Berto of Jesh, and Gralen of Whitan in Gralen's ornate tent, where they spent the rest of the day conferring, while the traders clamored to have their trade goods unloaded.
The actual talks began the next morning. Zant accompanied king Rajo at the rear of the procession to the chiefs' tent. Three of the nomads' javelins stood tied into an arch at the entrance to the tent, forcing the kings to bend their necks to pass under them, an obvious, calculated insult. Zant stepped around the spears, causing an angry muttering among the onlookers.
Inside the large tent, the chiefs of the five "camps," or tribes, of the nomads awaited them, seated cross-legged on a low dais. The youngest appeared to be in his late twenties, and was clearly excited about what was apparently his newly exalted position. The others ranged in age from early middle age to one white-haired elder. The man in the center held a laser standing upright at his side. There was no matching dais for the kings, and no chairs, forcing them to sit cross-legged on the ground. There were no introductions.
"We must tolerate the presence of these so-called 'kings'," the youngest of the chiefs complained, "but are we now to tolerate the noise and smell of the star men, too?"
"You would be wise to listen to the words of sire Zant," said King Rajo. "The future of your people depends upon it."
"Pah!" said the man with the laser. "The future of our people is the same as the past of our people. Freedom and conquest!"
"We will hear the star man," said the eldest. "It is certain we will hear nothing new from these farmers." He indicated the kings with a wave.
Zant got to his feet. He looked around mildly. "You are proud people, indeed, to so treat the kings of Jumbo. Of what are you so proud?"
The oldest of the five regarded him sourly. "We are the Free People, star man. No kings rule us. We go where we will, and do as we will. And all the kings of Jumbo fear us."
Zant laughed aloud. "Ha! The kings also fear plague, and for the same reason. You kill indiscriminately, and without cause. So, you are proud to be a plague on the face of Jumbo?" The young chief jumped to his feet, hand on his empty knife sheath, his face furious.
"As for going where you will," Zant continued, "for centuries your 'will' has been to simply plod around a great circle first laid out by your ancestors. Your path is so well worn it can be seen from space." One of the older chiefs gestured to the youngest to sit down.
"I have come here to tell you that change has come to Jumbo. The star men have returned, to help the kings to grow and develop Jumbo, to restore it to greatness. They have established a settlement in the Cursed Lands, from which they have lifted the curse.
"The people of Jumbo will no longer permit a few bands of savages to keep them penned between the river and the mountains. Your people must finally develop the courage to seek out new trails, new hunting lands. If they do not, if you persist in trying to attack the settlers, you will be destroyed. For the star men have star weapons, weapons that will wipe your warriors from the face of Jumbo. I have come to warn you of this, and to show you the weapons your young men will face.
"We have also given the kings mighty new weapons, and trained their people in their use. If you can find fifty warriors brave enough to face the farmers and townmen of the kings' militia, we will show you that there is no choice for you but to move east, to find new hunting grounds.
"Fighting is forbidden in Treaty, star man."
Zant nodded. "And that is good. I do not sp
eak of fighting, but rather of a test with blunted weapons. The militia weapons will carry only paint to indicate wounds. Fifty of your warriors against twenty of the militia."
The youngest jumped to his feet again. "My camp will accept the challenge. We have nothing to fear from townmen and farmers." The two eldest, though, exchanged worried glances. They'd had reports from the survivors of the small scouting raid on the colony months ago. Many had died there.
Zant nodded. "And now, oh great chiefs, will you come with me and see the weapons of the star men? Surely, any chief who truly cares for his people would wish to know what his people would face in an attack on the star man settlement."
The chiefs conferred with frowns. They didn't want to seem to obey the star man, but Zant was correct. Any war leader would want to know what his warriors would face.
"I do not fear the star weapons," the middle chief proclaimed, rising to his feet. "My camp will accept as well." He waved the empty laser his men had seized from one of the flitter casualties. "We have taken their weapons. They are cunningly made it is true. But they require magic to work. Without their magic, they are only badly designed clubs. We have fought the star men, and killed them. They even use women to fight for them."
Zant nodded coldly. "And how many lives did it cost to conquer these four or five star men, already injured by the crash of their wagon?"
The chief frowned. "They fought bravely, it is true. But they died screaming, like men of the kingdoms."
"Come, then," Zant replied. "I will show you what that weapon will do when its magic is not depleted. For the star men have plenty of the magic."
Holding his laser as though it were a staff of power, the middle chief strode proudly out of the tent. The other chiefs followed.
The nomads weren't the only ones skilled at setting a stage to impress. Zant had set up the demonstration at the base of the towering starship, its huge shadow a constant reminder of the star men's power.
The Privateer 2: AN HONEST LIVING Page 34