by Ben Bova
“The lighting is perfect,” Jephthah said, looking up at the sky, now reddening with the final rays of the setting sun. “Bright enough for a good recording, dim enough to make editing all the easier.” He whipped an arm out, pointing to the far airship. “Watch, now.”
The airship was angled directly toward them, its nose into the steady wind coming up the valley. The platform moved smoothly off to the right of it and took position there. The details of what the agent flying it was doing were not easy to discern at this distance, but they could all see him as he moved around at the controls.
Jephthah folded the collar up to his throat with thumb and forefinger. “Pull back a bit more so you’re not in the picture.” He paused, waiting for it to move away, then said, “Do it.”
The agent on the platform lifted a weapon—even this far away it was evident that it was a shield gun like the one Jephthah was holding—and pointed it toward the main portion of the cylinder.
It was as if an invisible cannonball had been fired at it. The orange-striped fabric of the cylinder punched in at the center, pulling back like a projectile had gored it, and jerked several meters to the side. The entire cylinder collapsed at once, the fabric sagging and limp as shreds of torn material blossomed out above the falling gondola. One of the native passengers tumbled screaming over the side as the basket turned over, and fell instantly to his death.
The gondola hit first, breaking apart and scattering its contents across the valley floor. There had been five passengers, and Eric and the others watched in,horror as they were thrown to the ground on impact. The canvas fabric fell atop the crushed and broken gondola just as the gas-fired steam generator ignited, creating an enormous, smoking fireball that mushroomed into a sunset-streaked sky of almost exactly the same color. As the fireball rose upward and dissipated into the sky, what was left on the ground began to burn steadily. The hover platform angled down, landing near the wreckage.
The sound of gunfire—powder projectile weapons—came from the other airship as the natives aboard it realized they were being attacked. But, even as close as they were, their guns lacked the power to do much harm. An occasional ting! came from the skin of the hopper as a projectile bounced ineffectually off it.
Jephthah, meanwhile, had walked a few meters away and knelt to the ground, pointing the shield gun he’d taken from the other agent at the remaining airship.
“Dear God,” Adela said under her breath at the carnage, and jumped up. “The man is truly mad.”
“No!” Lewis, closer to her than the Emperor, lunged at Adela, tackling her just as Tideki fired the needle gun. The flechette missed her, and buried itself into the ground with a gentle spark as it hit. He fired a second time, hitting Lewis squarely in the left shoulder.
Still moving when he was hit, the force of the shot sent Lewis rolling over several times, jerking spasmodically, until he lay still on the ground.
“Lewis!” Both she and Eric were on their feet now, but Tideki was on her in a second, and jammed the gun so hard into her ear that a trickle of blood ran down her neck.
“Don’t move!” the agent snarled, both to her and Eric. “The charge isn’t strong enough to kill, unless I fire it right into the brain like this.” He pressed harder still. She stopped struggling, and he let her back away from him slowly into Eric’s outstretched arms. The two of them stared at Lewis where he lay unconscious on the moist grass. Lewis’ chest moved, shallow and irregular, but he was plainly still breathing.
My son still lives.
There was a muted sound as Jephthah fired the shield gun, hitting the airship dead center. It, too, collapsed around the propelled force just as the other had. However, this airship was much nearer the ground than the other had been, and the gondola beneath it did not hit with as much force when it fell. There was no fire or explosion, although Eric and Adela could clearly hear the rushing escape of gas as the vessel’s tanks ruptured.
Nothing happened for a few moments, but then a gunshot rang out from the piled debris, the mass of fabric, rope and wood that was the downed airship. Obviously, at least one of the passengers had survived the crash.
“Excellent!” Jephthah cried, dropping the shield gun to the ground. “Tideki, go get him.”
Jephthah held his hands out before him, and the agent tossed him the needle gun, then touched his belt. A haze shimmered around him for a split second as he activated a skin-shield; then he turned away and headed for the wreckage. There were several more shots fired as Tideki approached the downed airship.
The hover platform returned, and the agent climbed down carrying what looked like two rifles. The weapons were clearly alien in nature, and must have been thrown clear of the first airship when it crashed. He handed them to Jephthah, who slipped the needle gun into a side pocket of the coveralls and examined the workmanship of the native weapons with interest. “It’s getting dark. We need some lights out here,” he barked to the man, who obediently disappeared into the hopper.
“Look at this,” he said, holding one of the weapons out. “It’s similar to a revolver, a handgun common on Earth.” He looked up curiously at Eric. “Didn’t your grandfather collect those? I thought I read that somewhere once. Anyway …” He snapped open a hinged rotating cylinder near the trigger mechanism in front of the stock. “It fires self-contained charges consisting of gunpowder that propels a piece of dense metal toward its intended target.” He tilted the gun back, pouring the projectiles into the palm of his hand, then slipped them one at a time back into matching holes in the cylinder from which they had come. “They’re called bullets.”
Could I rush him? Right now? Eric wondered, looking around. The agent with the handheld camera was on the other side of the hopper. Tideki was still at the hulk of the downed airship, although he noted that the gunfire at the wreckage had ceased, meaning he would probably return in moments. The other two, meanwhile, were inside. He started to rise, slowly, quietly.
Jephthah whipped around, leveling the native gun at him, and let a smile spread across his face.
Hide your fear, but show your contempt. The thought came back to him unbidden as he stared up the barrel of the native weapon. McLaren had taught him that so many, many years ago. Do whatever thing is necessary to survive your enemy’s attack, his old Master had said, but chief among these things is to let him know the contempt you feel for him.
“You are mad,” Eric said, echoing his mother’s words from a few minutes earlier. “Even now my son’s forces orbiting above have certainly spotted the explosion. Are you so stupid as to think you can get away with this?”
Jephthah stared at him. “Big words, Your Highness. But seeing the explosion is exactly what I wanted. Your son’s people up above will come, to be sure, or will send a ship from South Camp, but it will take hours for them to arrive. I don’t need that much time.” He lowered the gun, cradling it in his arms.
Floodlights came on from around the perimeter of the hopper, illuminating the area, and the agent Jephthah had sent inside returned.
Not now. Wait for the moment, Eric thought, remembering a day long ago in the Kentucky backwoods when a similar threat had been made on his life. Wait for when he is vulnerable, or until there is nothing left to lose.
Tideki came forward noisily, pushing a figure in front of him. The native was dressed as they had seen others, and wore loose-fitting trousers and leather boots, topped with a short-sleeved pullover shirt tucked into his pants. Where the natives near Jour Nouveau were rarely observed without long sleeves and vests or jackets, however, the temperature at this latitude allowed a more comfortable attire. Tideki carried two of the captured rifles, and prodded him forward, trembling and whimpering in terror, with the stock of one of them. The native fell to the ground when the agent gave a last shove upon reaching them. He rose to his knees, his large eyes wide and moist with fear, and babbled uncontrollably in his own tongue.
“Take him over there,” Jephthah said to Tideki, pointing to a clear area a few
meters away beneath the rear portion of the hopper, then pressed his collar to his throat. “Kantrellis, bring the camera around here.” When the agent appeared, Jephthah indicated that he should record what was about to happen. “All right, give him his weapon.” The agent dropped one of the guns to the ground, then walked to the cowering native and held out a rifle. He was so frightened that he wouldn’t take it at first, but finally accepted it and held it loosely in his shaking hands, not knowing what to do. His eyes scanned the group, falling on each of them in turn.
Eric saw the abject terror in the man’s eyes, and fought to keep his rage in check. Hide your anger! he remembered. And wait until you can use it.
“Make him attack you,” Jephthah told him. The agent moved forward and shoved at the little native with both hands. He fell back, still whimpering incoherently. “Hit him again!”
Tideki pulled back his arm and hit the native full force with his fist, sending him recoiling to the ground. He sat up, bringing the weapon to bear on the agent.
“That’s it! Crouch as though you’re being attacked!”
Tideki did as he was ordered, and the native fired. The bullet impacted harmlessly in the skin-shield, but the force of the blow sent him reeling backward, and he fell to the ground. He got up and approached the native, pulling the gun out of his hands.
“Perfect.” Jephthah reached into his pocket and pulled out the needle gun. He thumbed the charge wheel a few notches higher and fired it into the forehead of the native. The little furry man flew backward, jerked twice and lay still. “You can drop the shield now,” he said to Tideki, slipping the needle gun back into his pocket. The agent complied.
“I don’t believe what’s happening here!” Adela started sobbing, and dropped her face into her hands.
“It’s not over yet, Doctor,” Jephthah said, and pivoted around to Tideki. He pointed the native gun at him and pulled the trigger, catching the man squarely in the chest. As Jephthah brought the rifle smoothly around in a wide arc the agent with the handheld let the camera drop to the ground and looked up, his mouth opening in shock just as the weapon discharged. The last agent outside the hopper had reached for his own gun, but was cut down by a native bullet before he could even level it in Jephthah’s direction.
The scene was abruptly quiet, with nothing to be heard other than Jephthah’s heavy breathing and Adela’s gentle sobs. Directly, even Adela quieted, and the two of them stared at the man as he stood before them, the native rifle now hanging loosely from one hand. He gritted his teeth, his breath still coming noisily through his lips.
“There’s one more agent unaccounted for,” Eric said, his voice calm, strong. “I’m sure he saw everything. Do you think he’s just going to sit up there and wait for you to come shoot him, too?”
“There’s no one watching from the hopper,” he spat.
Adela stood, pushing Eric’s hand away. “Gareth?” She rose and started for the hatchway, a step at a time at first, then broke into a run, ignoring Jephthah as he turned the gun on her. “Gareth!” Jephthah let her go, and turned back to the Emperor.
“She won’t find much up there,” he said. “The copilot is dead. I killed him first, right after you all came out here. I didn’t even need a weapon; I just broke his neck when he wasn’t looking. The other agent got a needle up the ear. Anmoore and the Gatanni liaison are down, too.”
“You killed them?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I didn’t bother to check after I shot them.” He lifted the rifle almost casually and pointed it at Lewis where he lay in the grass. “It doesn’t much matter, as it’s all going to be blamed on the Tsingers anyway.”
Eric leapt for him just as his finger tightened on the trigger and managed to deflect the shot, sending the bullet harmlessly away into the darkening sky. They tumbled across the ground, with Jephthah rolling neatly into a crouching position while Eric flopped ungracefully to his stomach; then, seeing the barrel of the gun pointed his way, he whirled quickly to the side, but the bullet caught him in the right side of his chest close to the shoulder, sending him backward to the ground. The Emperor struggled to sit up, clutching at his shoulder with his left hand.
“You stupid fool!” Jephthah vaulted forward and hit him with the butt of the now-empty rifle, sending him to the ground again, and tossed the useless gun aside.
Eric followed his eyes as he spotted another gun lying in the grass a few meters away, and scrambled for it, his fingers just able to close around the barrel.
“Don’t!”
He froze.
“Turn around.”
Eric did, and saw the needle gun pointed at him.
“Don’t try it! I really don’t want to shoot you with this— it’s just more trouble for me to retrieve the needles—but I will if you don’t drop the rifle now.”
Eric tossed the gun away and watched it roll under the rear of the hopper where the native had been killed, then collapsed to the ground.
Jephthah came forward to stand over the Emperor’s prone form, breathing heavily and wiping at his mouth. “Don’t you see you’re already dead?” he screamed, saliva sputtering from his lips. “You’ve been dead for years, just like the Empire!”
Eric rose up on one elbow, and regarded his assailant. Show your contempt! McLaren’s words rang in his mind. “No, Jephthah,” he said, keeping his voice measured and firm. “It’s you who have died. The Empire of the Hundred Worlds is only now beginning to live … thanks to you.”
“How can you—?”
“Turn around, bastard!” Adela appeared behind him, and he spun to face her. She held a shield gun, pointing it at his chest, and ran at him, her face twisted in rage.
He laughed, then, the depraved sound echoing across the rift valley. “Pull the trigger,” he said as she advanced, and tossed his empty rifle aside. “Go ahead!” He picked up one of the others the agent piloting the platform had retrieved from the first airship.
She leveled the shield gun at him, but nothing happened.
“Do you think I’d be stupid enough to leave any charged weapons on the hopper and then turn my back on it?” He laughed again, the same arrogant, evil laugh he’d used before. Raising the gun to his shoulder, he aimed carefully along its length and squeezed the trigger.
The bullet hit Adela in the knee, and she crumpled with a cry of pain to the ground a few meters from Eric. Ignoring Jephthah, she dragged herself along the ground toward her son.
Jephthah stepped out of her way as she inched forward.
Satisfied that Adela and the Emperor were no longer a threat, he strode over to where they lay bleeding on the ground in each other’s arms.
“You’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you?” he asked, bending menacingly over them. “You know now what your role in all this will be, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Eric replied, still gripping his shoulder. He felt dizzy, and his fingers were sticky with the blood oozing through them. “You’ll edit everything you’ve gotten, and present it as more proof of alien treachery. ‘Here’s how our noble Emperor was murdered! Here’s how the aliens returned the kindness of Adela de Montgarde!’” He tilted his head back and laughed, loud and long, then regarded Jephthah once more. “This will look like a battle scene when you’re through. Our wounds will verify everything once you’ve killed us.”
Adela moaned and he turned to her, fearing that she was going into shock. “Mother,” he said softly, but urgently, into her ear. “Are you all right?”
“I … I can’t feel my leg. And I feel dizzy, like I’m going to pass out.”
“Stay awake!” he begged of her, then turned to Jephthah. “What now?”
He walked over and retrieved the handheld camera the agent had dropped when he was shot. He came back, and looked at his wrist. “You were right, earlier. They’ve certainly picked up the fireball by now and have tried to contact the hopper, only to receive no answer. It’ll be hours before another ship gets here, however. In the meantime, I e
dit what I’ve collected. Part of it—what the hopper’s external cameras would have recorded—gets fed back into the flight-deck files. The rest …” He hefted the handheld, holding it out before him. “ … gets dumped to a microchip along with a duplicate of the hopper files, and hidden on me where no one will think to look for it while they tend to my wounds—Oh, did I mention that I plan to shoot myself after I kill you? Nothing too serious, just enough so that when they find me the only one left alive at this ‘battle scene’ they do whatever they can to save me. A short time later—I don’t. know, maybe a few days—security agent ‘Hanson,’ unable to handle the guilt of allowing his Emperor to be killed while in his protection, takes his own life.” Jephthah paused, an amused smirk on his face. “They’ll find a note leading them to what’s left of the body of the real Hanson, whom I’ll place in a nice conspicuous spot.”
He leveled the gun at Eric’s head, pulling the trigger with an audible click! He cursed and threw the weapon down angrily, then bent for the other the platform pilot had brought. He checked it, snapping open the chamber, and cursed when he found that it was also empty.
Jephthah looked around and spotted the last of the captured rifles, lying on the ground where Eric had thrown it beneath the rear of the shuttle. He went to get it, and turned back to them as he flipped the chamber open. “Fully loaded,” he said, grinning, and raised the stock to his shoulder.
A sudden screech came from the hopper, drawing Jephthah’s attention upward. An alarm klaxon erupted from somewhere beneath the craft as it shuddered. Before he could move out of the way, the aft landing pads collapsed up into the belly of the ship, allowing the rear of the hopper to fall crashing to the ground.
Jephthah screamed, his cry of pain cutting through the night air. There was still a small amount of space beneath the rear of the shuttle, but his legs were pinned, certainly crushed by the sheer weight on top of them. He struggled to free his legs, each tug on the lower part of his body causing him to wince loudly, but after several tries it almost looked like he had managed to pull himself forward a few centimeters. A disturbing smile spread across his face as he pulled himself free and grasped the rifle.