A dozen straw mannequins were arranged at various distances from ten to fifty yards down range from the table set up for Zant's show.
He picked up the laser. "This weapon is called a 'laser'," he began. "It is the same as the one your chief carries, there, but this one carries its magic. This is what your warriors will face." He turned from the chiefs and lifted the laser. Five actinic bolts seared the watchers' eyes in as many seconds. Smoke rose lazily from smoldering wounds in five of the targets. "Five men just died in less than five seconds," Zant said unnecessarily.
Zant returned the laser to the table, and picked up a blaster. "This is called a 'blaster'. It is used for close range." He whirled and fired. Blasters, unlike lasers, are not silent. Tortured air creates a roar that is almost an explosion, cut off almost immediately as the ball of energy dissipates in its target. The chiefs flinched twice at the explosion/roar of the blaster. The two nearest targets displayed large holes in their torsos. The nearest, at ten yards, showed a hole in its middle some four inches in diameter. The one at twenty yards showed a six-inch hole.
Zant turned back to the chiefs. "These are the weapons the soldiers of the star men carry, as yours carry bows and javelins. But the star men have many other, more powerful weapons." He signaled, and the twin quickfirers of Greeners' Pride chattered. Their roar continued for five seconds, destroying the remaining five targets and chewing a sizable area of grass into a muddy, smoking tangle.
Zant waved the chiefs forward, and they examined the targets. The laser wounds were not particularly impressive, merely smoking, blackened quarter-inch holes. But Zant was prepared for that. He pulled off his shirt, displaying the healing hole in the fleshiest part of his upper arm. "I was very lucky," he said. "The shooter could have slashed his beam, and taken off my arm. If he had hit almost anywhere in my torso, I would not be here."
The blaster targets were more impressive. There was no doubt that no one would survive the wounds the blaster created. Zant failed to mention, of course, that the weapon was ineffective at ranges above 25 meters.
But the hits of the show were the quickfirers. Each infantry model quickfirer fired a thousand half-inch projectiles per minute. The mannequins had dissolved into scattered bits of straw, and the grass for ten feet around had been driven into a muddy mass.
"These are only some of the weapons of the star men," Zant said. "We have many more. Those of the kings have been specially designed for the people of Jumbo. Have your warriors ready two hours after dawn tomorrow, and the kings' militia will show their abilities." Picking up the laser and blaster, Zant turned and climbed Greeners' Pride's boarding ladder without another word.
Chapter 17
"A brave display, indeed," said king Rajo a few hours later. "We hope that tomorrow's will be equally effective."
Zant grinned. "I suspect the talk in the chiefs' tent will go on far into the night." He shrugged. "Sheol, I didn't exaggerate. The nomads are as stagnant as the kingdoms. If Jumbo is to develop, both must adapt to change. The difference is that the kings know they must change. The nomads do not. It is our job to teach them."
King Rajo snorted. "Not all the kings. You should hear Jorg of Tergo go on about how the star men are bringing catastrophe to Jumbo."
Tonio laughed. "He didn't turn down the weapons, though he didn't send as many militiamen as the others."
"Ah, but he does not face the nomads," Rajo replied. "His borders are protected by Jesh and Valhalla. He comes to Treaty only to make certain is not excluded from anything. All he has to fear are a few mountain bandits."
"Don't knock the mountain men," Zant warned. "If they decide King Jorg is interfering with their lives too much, Tergo will quickly need a new king."
"You did very well today, sire Zant," the king said. "I was concerned when it was decided that you would come in place of sire Cale."
Zant shrugged. "Cale's a city boy. He does very well when talking with civilized people like your Majesty. But if you need someone to talk to mountain men at a Gathering, or to half-naked savages wearing animal skins, Zant's your man. Besides, I had that laser wound for show and tell." He sighed. "Speaking of that, now I can finally get to the med bay and get that thing healed. I'm tired of having to take pain medications." He rose and headed down the ladder toward the med bay.
King Rajo turned to Tonio. "And will your people do as well tomorrow as they did at River Port?"
Tonio smiled. "Better, your Majesty."
Zant had deliberately scheduled the demonstration for two hours after dawn, to make certain they had the maximum number of onlookers possible. He certainly achieved that. It appeared that there were hundreds of onlookers. Every trader's stall in Treaty was deserted. No one wanted to miss the big show. Besides, there would be plenty of time for trading after the nomads routed the militia.
There was laughter and hoots of derision as Tonio's twenty militiamen emerged from the ship and formed up, marching smartly in formation to the selected site at the edge of the ruins. For purposes of the demonstration, the militiamen would deploy as though to protect Treaty, and the nomads would pretend to attack the village as their forebears had over a century before. Zant and the kings grouped to one side. The chiefs gathered nearby. Two of the chiefs were obviously angry at not being able to lead their men, but the two elder chiefs looked more like men about to be executed.
The militiamen were equipped as they had been when facing Valahalla's cavalry, with one exception. They had been equipped with large, lightweight shields to protect them from the nomad arrows.
Tonio placed his men in line abreast, down on one knee.
"Look!" came a voice from the crowd, "they already cringe from our warriors!" A roar of laughter echoed through the crowd, but Tonio only smiled quietly.
Cheers erupted as the nomad attackers appeared. The nomads were essentially light cavalry, with no infantry support. They had only one real 'tactic': frontal attack. They milled about for a few moments at long bowshot, and then released a cloud of arrows, to an approving roar from the crowd. They kicked their dinos into motion, following their missiles.
At a command from Tonio, the militiamen crouched forward, angling their shields for maximum protection. As soon as the thuds of the arriving arrows stopped, the militiamen threw down their shields and fell to a prone position atop them.
By this time, the nomads were only twenty meters from the militia line. Suddenly there was a flurry of crossbow bolts and yellow smears began appearing on nomads and their mounts. By agreement, if a man or his mount were hit with paint, he would stop his mount, out of the 'battle'.
The last nomad stopped at five meters, after throwing a despairing javelin. He was to record the only militia 'casualty'. Every nomad and every dino showed at least one smear of paint.
The crowd's roar faded to a stunned silence, and Tor-Jen swiveled the ship's quickfirers to cover the obviously angry and frightened crowd of nomads.
As a threatening growl arose from the crowd, Tonio had his men replace their paint bolts with lethal pointed ones before letting them rise, gather their shields, and march back toward the ship.
Zant and the kings hurried into the ship with as much dignity as they could retain, hoping the crowd would not become an angry mob before they could make it. Greeners' Pride's personnel hatch slammed shut.
After exchanging horrified stares, the five chiefs hurried back to the chiefs' tent, fending off questions and complaints from anguished audience members. Guards remained in front of the entrance all day, refusing everyone entry.
A somber silence settled over Treaty. Normally voluble traders spoke quietly with their few customers, their eyes scanning for threats. For the first time in many years, there was fear of violence in Treaty.
There was no violence during the remaining two days of the Treaty Trade, but little of the excitement and color usually on display, either. Moods were somber, the nomads surly and quick to anger. The traders later agreed that the star men had completely ruined the trad
ing.
Zant made it a point to intercept the eldest chief as he moved around the encampment.
The old man eyed him stonily. "What do you want, star man? Have you not done enough damage here? You have shown the kingdoms how to destroy us."
Zant shook his head. "I did not come here to do damage, but to save lives. We do not wish the Free People destroyed. But we can no longer permit you to keep your neighbors in a pen."
The older man snorted. "Neighbors! They are despoilers of the land! Land that should be free to all, to roam as they will. They pollute it with their towns, and their smoke, and their filth."
"If you hate them so, why do you stay near them? Why not explore new lands for your people to wander?" He paused, and held up a hand to forestall a reply. "No. I did not seek you out to argue with you, but to offer our help."
"Help?" the man's face reddened. "You destroy us and then offer help?"
Zant shook his head, frowning. "No one need be destroyed. All that is required is for the Free People to again roam the vastness of Jumbo instead of huddling close to those you hate. That is why I have sought you out. You are the eldest of the chiefs, and I hope you will understand.
"If your people decide to move east, we can help. We can locate water holes and suitable camp sites. We can spot herds of game, and we can provide maps, which are pictures of the land as though looking downward from the sky. It would be like having scouts in the sky to help you plan your migration." He handed the old man an ultracom. "This is a star man tool for talking over long distances. Should you desire our help, simply press this," he indicated a tiny button. "The person who replies will know who is calling, and will be able to provide any help you need."
The old man looked at the ultracom and his shoulders sagged. "We have talked of the People moving east, but I will not be with them when they do. I am too old and too tired to make such a journey. I will accompany them to our farthest camp site, and there I will die." He raised his eyes to Zant's. "I have devoted my life to protecting Jumbo from the Despoilers. I have no desire to live in your new world, star man, where the kingdoms are free to spread their filth and smoke to the ends of Jumbo."
Zant shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that. The Free People will need your wisdom on this journey, and it will be many centuries before towns and cities cover Jumbo, if indeed that ever happens. But if that is your decision, please give the com to the wisest of the other chiefs. We want only for your people to roam free as they have always claimed to desire."
King Rajo was all smiles throughout the return journey to Valhalla Town. Zant's more sober demeanor confused him.
"What is wrong?" he asked. "Surely they will move east. We have shown them that we can destroy them if they do not."
Zant shook his head. "I'm afraid it is not that simple, your Majesty. People have faced similar situations on other worlds, and there are several ways for them to react. In some cases, they react as you expect, and make the rational decision. But in others, they lash out in fury, determined to die if they can only take their enemy with them. The only way that type can be stopped is by killing them. And most often, there is a combination of the two. Most of the people will see the inevitable and choose to survive. But there will always be a hard core who will prefer to die rather than what they view as surrender."
Cale supported Zant's opinion. "If I had to guess, your Majesty, I would say that most of the Free People will choose to migrate. It is, after all, what they claim to desire.
"But there will be a minority who will see that as a betrayal of their beliefs, and a surrender to the forces of evil. They will urge the chiefs to fight to the death. But the chiefs will make their choice based on what is best for their people -- and suicide is never 'best'.
"The minority will talk among themselves, and soon anger and wounded pride will make them plan an attack on the cause of their problem: in this case, the star men. They may wait until the main body of the nomads sets off on their migration, hoping that the main body will not be blamed and destroyed if their attack fails. But they will attack. I'm certain of it."
He paused. This next bit would not be easy. "Your Majesty," he said quietly, "We must warn the General."
"What?" The king was obviously shocked. "Do not be ridiculous. If you warn him, he might win a battle in which he might otherwise be defeated and end our problem."
Cale was shaking his head. "I'm sorry, your Majesty. We returned to Jumbo to save the colony and the planet from the General. With the help of the kings, we have lowered that threat. But our primary intent is to save the colony. If the General is defeated, suicidal nomads will overrun the colony. There will be no survivors. You know this, your Majesty, and you know we must try to prevent it."
He turned to Zant. "Perhaps you should call him, Zant. His Majesty knows that I have talked to the General once before since our return."
King Rajo looked troubled, but he was obviously thinking hard.
"While his majesty decides," Cale added, "perhaps we should call Dee or Donord for the current situation."
It was Dee who answered Cale's call, and she was in tears.
"Dee, What's wrong?" Cale asked, but she was crying so hard her answer was incoherent. Cale talked quietly and soothingly, trying to calm her enough to at least speak intelligibly, but it was her edge of fury that at last overcame her weeping.
"One of those, those animals beat and raped Blue-eye!" she finally cried.
"What? Who?" Cale was confused.
"Blue-eye," Dee replied in a nettled tone. "Donord's most popular girl. I used the first aid kit, and I straightened her broken nose. But I can't set her broken jaw, and Tess tells me she may never recover completely."
"Oh," Cale replied, relieved. "One of the inn girls."
"Yes," Dee said in a voice suddenly dripping acid. "One of the inn girls. Does that make it all right to beat her up and disfigure her for life?"
"You know better than that, Dee," Cale replied. "Just slow down and tell me what happened."
With a deep breath, Dee forced herself to calmness. "All right. Blue-eye is Donord's most popular girl, and she has avoided the star men. She's frightened of them. She says they have 'hard eyes'.
"There was a good-sized crowd last night, and a lot of the star men were upset about some sort of raid. Blue-eye went out to the privy, and on her way back, she was attacked by a drunk star man. He cursed her for thinking herself 'too good' for the star men, and swore he would show her what a 'real man' could do. He tore her clothing, and took her right there, in the mud of the yard.
"When he was finished, he left her lying there in the mud, and went back into the inn as though nothing had happened. When she could pick herself up, Blue-eye went into the inn and told Donord and some of the men what happened. She pointed out the man, but before anyone could intervene, he jumped her. He was hitting her with his fists, over and over.
"Finally he pulled a knife, and that's when a couple of other star men pulled him off her. They hustled him out. But as I said, she's Donord's most beautiful and popular girl. A lot of the local customers went after the star men. I understand there was quite a brawl; I was too busy trying to save her life to see it myself. Donord says a couple of men were killed.
"He's furious. He's barred the star men from the place. I know that might keep us from learning something important, but frankly, right now I don't care, and neither does Donord. He's busy trying to keep himself and his friends from going on a star man hunt."
"Zant and some men raided the colony a few nights ago," Cale explained. "That's what the star men were upset about." He paused. "Dee, if I could, I'd bring Cheetah down, or maybe even one of the Din-classes, with their full med cabinet. But I couldn't land anything but a flitter down there without being seen, and I'd be lucky to do that. Besides, it would take two days to get down there in a flitter."
The angry flush slowly faded from her cheeks. She nodded. "I know, Cale," she said soberly. "But it's just so . . . so infuriating! I feel so h
elpless!" The tears began to flow once more, and Cale hurried to the reason for his call.
He told her about the Treaty trade, and warned her that there might be a raid. "I think they'll go for the colony," he said, "but they might make a try for King's Town. You stay close to the inn for the next few weeks, and let Donord know. I'm sure he'll make sure you're safe."
********
"Hello, General," Zant smiled. "How's the crusade for world domination coming?"
There was no answering smile from Ochoa-Mariden. "You've set progress on Jumbo back a century," he said grimly. "Did you call to gloat?"
Zant's smile widened. "I prefer to think we've avoided a century of military dictatorship," he said. "By the way, have you had reports yet on the ruckus in King's Town last night?"
The General's stony expression faded to puzzlement. "I've got the report. Some sort of brawl between some of my men and the locals. What about it?"
Zant's smile faded to poorly-controlled anger. "Does your report mention the woman your men raped and beat up? Or the two local men dead of knife wounds?"
Ochoa-Mariden straightened. "No, it doesn't. Can you substantiate that charge?"
Zant shrugged. "Two bodies, an inn girl in serious medical condition, and a room full of locals can substantiate it, if you care to bother with it."
"Oh," the General replied, "An inn girl."
"Yes, General, an inn girl. I'm sure you would prefer she be a queen or a princess, but it seems none of them hang around your animals."
"Don't be ridiculous, Jenfu," The General replied, his face hard. "No real military organization tolerates rape and assault on civilians, no matter who they are. If any of this can be proven, I'll trigger the blaster on the perpetrator myself.
"It's obvious you have sources in King's Town. Contact them and see if you can get that woman brought here. I'll brief the guards on the bridge to pass her and two escorts."
The Privateer 2: AN HONEST LIVING Page 35