
Star Watchman

Ben Bova

To Mrs. Jaffe, wherever you are



I

Shinar


The Tel-ran Empire stretched over half the Milky Way
galaxy, from the lonely fringes of the immense spiral of
stars to its richly-packed center. Earth was the capital of
this vast Empire, but the planet Mars was headquarters
for the Star Watch. The Empire's military arm, the Star
Watch had bases on many planets, in all the farthest
reaches of the immense Terran domain. But Mars
covered from pole to pole with mighty buildings housing
the men and machinery that ran the Star Watchwas
headquarters.

In a small office in one of those buildings, a noncom
was startled out of his usual routine. His desk communi-
cator lit up, and the dour features of the Chief-of-Staff
took form on the screen.

"I want the complete file on Oran VI immediately."

"Yes sir." Before the chiefs image had completely
faded from the screen, the noncom's fingers were tap-
ping out a message on his desktop keyboard to the mam-
moth computer that held the Star Watch's master files.

He decided to check and make certain that he had
requested the correct information from the computer.
(The possibility of the computer making an error was
unthinkable.) He punched a button on the desk and the
communicator screen lit up again.

The screen showed a map of the Milky Way galaxy,
with the position of the star Oran marked out. It was on
the edge of the Terran Empire, out in one of the farther
spiral arms of the galaxy, near the territory of the Komani
nation. The map faded, and a block of written data filled
tTip scrGCii"

ORAN; galactic coordinates ZJJ 27458330194126-3232.
Eight planets, one terrestrial (Oran VI).

ORAN vi; radius 1.04, density 0.91, gravity 1.025.
Atmosphere Earth-normal (0.004 deviation). Three major
continents, surface 80% sea-covered. Native human pop-
ulation, 3.4 billion (estimated). Economy: rural agricul-
tural; underdeveloped industrial base. Subject to
Imperial Development Plan 400R, priority 3C. Former
colony of Masters, incorporated into Empire immediately
following Galactic War of last century. Native name for
planet: Shinar.

"SHI-NAR!"

The square was thronged with people. Shouting, jump-
ing, dancing people. It was hard to see how so many
people could jam into the city square, but still more were
pouring in from every avenue. They waved banners and
held aloft placards. Several groundcars were overturned
and swarmed over. A bonfire glowed near a statue at one
end of the square. The people shouted one word, which
rose and fell like the endless waves of the sea:

"SHI-NAR! SHEE-NAR!"

The Terran governor stood frowning on the balcony
of his official residence, at the head of the jam-packed
square. He turned to the garrison commander standing
beside him. "This has got to be stopped!" The governor
had to shout to be heard over the roars of the crowd.
"There'll be another riot down there in a few minutes.
The native police can't handle that mob."

The commander arched his eyebrows. "Sir, if I send
my troops into the square, there may be bloodshed."

"That can't be helped now," the governor said. "Send
in the troops,

Star Watch Junior Officer Emil Vorgens sat in his tiny
compartment aboard the starship and reread his orders
for the tenth time. He found it hard to believe that he
was finally a full-fledged officer of the Star Watch. School
was finished, his commission was safely tucked away in
his travel kit, and hereon plastic filmwere the orders
for his first official mission.

He slid the tiny film into his pocket viewer again and
projected the words onto the bare compartment wall:

"You will proceed to Oran VI and assist the Imperial
Governor there in dealing with certain dissident elements
of the native population."

Like most Star Watch orders, there was a good deal
of meaning in the words that were not there. The Star
Watch was the Terran Empire's interstellar military arm.
In fact, the Star Watch pre-dated the Empire, and
existed even back in the old days of the Confederation,
more than a century ago.

It had been the Star Watch that fought the successful
war against the Masters, the war that had made the Ter-
ran Confederationalmost against its own willthe new
masters of most of the galaxy. The problems of ruling
such a vast territory had been solved only by the creation
of the Empire. Now the Star Watch served to control
the interstellar space routes. A subsidiary branch, the
Imperial Marines, handled any planet-home fighting that
had to be done.

Vorgens sat back in his webbed chair and studied his
orders, a worried frown on his face. It was a youthful
face, with a high forehead. His skin was a golden brown,
his closely cropped hair copperish red, his eyes tawny.
Although born into the Terran Empire, and fully human,
Vorgens was not an Earth-man, but a native of the Plei-
ades star cluster.

His orders troubled him. To send a Star Watchman to
Oran VI meant that the Empire was considering military
action there. "Dissident elements of the native popula-
tion." That could mean almost anything. It sounded
serious.

Just how serious. Vorgens learned a few days later. A
coded message from Star Watch headquarters was
beamed to the ship for him. When he decoded it, the
order stated:

"The Imperial Governor of Oran VI has been mur-
dered. You will assist Brigadier Aikens, 305th Imperial
Marines, in restoring order to the planet."

The starship hurtled on toward its destination as Vor-
gens spent his days fretfully trying to get more informa-
tion on the situation on Oran VI. Very little could be
learned. The Imperial Marines had landed there and the
planet was in turmoil. Evidently a band of Komani raid-
ers, sensing a chance for battle and looting, had also
landed on Oran VI, A few days before reaching the
planet, Vorgens received a final change in orders;

"You will seek out the Komani leader and warn him
of the consequences of fighting against the Empire. The
Komani raiders are to be offered safe conduct back to
their homeworld in return for immediately quitting Oran
VI. The Komani leader is to be reminded that all Komani
clans have sworn allegiance to the Empire, and he can
expect no assistance from the rest of the Komani nation."

Almost before Vorgens had a chance to digest the news
that these orders implied, the starship broke out of sub-
space and entered an orbit around Oran VI. A planetary
shuttle brought him down to the major spaceport, heavily
guarded by Marines.

The major in charge outlined the situation to him
quickly;

"Things are pretty confused here. Watchman. We con-
trol the four major cities on the planet, and this space-
port. The Komani raiders have been shooting up the
countryside. There are bands of native rebels with them-
Brigadier Aikens has the Mobile Force out hunting down
the raiders."

Without more ado, the major bundled Vorgens into an
aircar and sent the Watchman off. with a Marine pilot
and gunner, to find Brigadier Aikens and the Mobile
Force.



II

The Valley


Sergeant Mclntyre had come a long way in the heat
of the afternoon, scrabbling over the broken rocks, half
tumbling down the steep slope of the valley, while the
big yellow sun of Oran blazed hotter and brighter every
minute.

Finally he saw the first outpost of the Mobile Forcea
scout car, its turret hatches open, and a few men sitting
lazily in the scant slice of shade the car offered.

As he approached, one of the troopers got up slowly.
adjusted his glare visor, picked up his weapon and hailed
him;

"Who goes?"

"Sergeant Mclntyre, K Company, returning from
patrol."

Mclntyre stopped a few paces before the younger
man. He could feel the sweat trickling down his flanks.

"Returning from patrol?" the trooper echoed.
"Where's the patrol, Sarge?"

"You're looldn* at it, Idd," Mclntyre answered. "Are
we gonna stand here all day? I'm hot, tired, thirsty and
I've gotta make a report to my company commander."

The soldier swallowed his amazement, "Yeah, sure,
Sarge. Come on over to the car." He turned and bawled
out, "Lieutenant!"

Mclntyre trudged over to the shade and squatted
down on the bare, dusty ground, leaning his back against
the dark, cool metal of the scout car. He took off his
helmet, squinted painfully into the shimmering afternoon
haze as he mopped his head with a tattered sleeve, then
replaced the helmet and slid the glare visor over his eyes
again.

One of the men offered him a canteen.

A lean, spotless lieutenant climbed down from the tur-
ret and confronted Mclntyre.

"Sergeant, are you the man who led this morning's
patrol through here and out to the southern edge of the
valley?"

"Yes sir," Mclntyre said, getting slowly to his feet.

"Where's the rest of your patrol? You had twenty men,
didn't you?"

"Yes sir. The others were all lolled or captured, sir."

"What? Impossible!"

Mclntyre shook his head. "I wish it was impossible,
sir. I only wish it was."

Sergeant Mclntyre made his report by tri-di beam
from the scout car to the communications center of the
Mobile Force's main body, camped down in the heart of
the valley.

"Sorry we don't have a vehicle for you," the lieutenant
said a little stiffly, to hide his embarrassment. "We've
been ordered to remain here at the perimeter."

"That's okay, sir," Mclntyre answered. Then he added,
with just a hint of malice, "I don't mind walldn' back.
I'll be going away from the Komani for a change."

By the time he reached the main encampment of the
Mobile Force, the hot, yellow sun had sunk behind the
hills. The sky overhead was still bright, but the valley
itself was now in shadow.

As Mclntyre made his way through the maze of land
cruisers, dreadnaughts, troop carriers, supply vans and
scout cars, it became obvious to him that his own report
had been matched by equally bad reports from the other
patrols of that morning. None of the guard details took
the time to ask his identity. None of the shavetail officers
stopped him for a lecture about his no-longer-regulation
uniform. They knew where most of his equipment had
been left, why he had buckled to his hip an extra sidearm
(taken from a dying corporal), whose blood was on his
ragged shirt.

The petty routine of military life was finished. They
were all too busy with the urgency of self-preservation
to bother. They were digging in, all across the valley.
The Mobile Force of the 305th Imperial Marines, the
military extension of the Terran Empire that ruled most
of the galaxy, was threatened with annihilation.

It was cooler now that the sun had dipped behind the
western hills. That was one thing to be grateful for,
Mclntyre thought as he searched out his company com-
mander in the confusion of men and vehicles. The valley
was in shadow, but the hills, where the enemy was, were
still bright with daylight.

Surrounded, Mclntyre thought to himself. Totally cut
off. I wonder how the Brigadier is taking the news?

"Totally impossible!" snapped Brigadier Aikens.

"I'm afraid not, sir." his executive officer answered
quietly. "Alt the patrols report the same thingwe are
surrounded."

Aikens' pinched face, topped by a balding dome, glow-
ered red as he stared at the stereomap on his desktop
viewscreen. "Are any of the patrols still out?"

"Only two, sir. It doesn't look as though they're going
to make it back. The other patrols were badly mauled.
One of them lost every man except a single sergeant."

Aikens got up from his chair and crossed the tiny com-
partment in three restless strides. Though the dread-
naught was huge for a land-going vehicle, all the
compartments inside had to be as compact as humanly
possible.

"Surrounded," he muttered, "trapped in this valley by
a horde of barbarians."

"They don't fight like barbarians, sir." the exec
murmured.

"What's that?"

The officer flushed. "I only meant, sir, that they have
been using modem weaponsvery effectively, sir."

Aikens nodded. "I know, I know." He returned to his
desk and sat down again. "I've led my men into a trap. Now
I've got to lead them out of it." The brigadier stared at the
stereomap for a long moment while his aide stood
motionless, listening to the faint whir of the air-
conditioning system.

The exec was in his prime middle years, tall and dark-
haired. A long stretch of desk duty, as part of the original
garrison of Oran VI, had filled out his midsection and
softened his face somewhat.

Aikens, although older by at least a dozen years, was
straight-backed and flat-stomached- The brigadier had
picked his aide on the strength of the younger man's
first-hand knowledge of the planet.

Finally Aikens looked up. "Well, we'll hold our ground
tonight. Double the guard around our perimeter."

"Yes sir."

"They can maul foot patrols, can they?" the brigadier
muttered. "Tomorrow morning we'll see what they can
do against some solid armor." He looked at the map on
his desk again- "All right, you may go. Make certain you
get a verbal report from all the company commanders
after the guard Is changed, and tell my staff I will meet
them here in two hours."

"Yes sir."

The exec remained at attention before the desk.

"I said you may go," Aikens repeated.

"There's one more item, sir. That Star Watch officer
who joined the Force two days ago. He's still waiting to
see you, sir."

Aikens slammed a heavy hand on the desktop. "The
situation isn't bad enough! Now I have to put up with
shavetails from the Star Watch Academy who want to
peep over my shoulder!"

"Sir, he's been waiting two days, and his orders are
direct from Star Watch Headquarters."

Aikens fumed silently for a few moments, then said,
"All right, get him in here. On the double."

"Very well, sir." The exec saluted, turned, and ducked
through the low doorway of Aikens' cubbyhole officer

After a few minutes of searching through the dread-
naught's command section, the exec found Vorgens
hunched beside a seated technician in the communica-
tions compartment, staring intently at a static-streaked
viewscreen.

"It's no good, sir," the technician was saying. "The
enemy has every frequency jammed. We can't get a word
in or out."

Vorgens straightened up. His black-and-silver uniform
was in stark contrast to the bright-colored coveralls that
identified the crewmen's various jobs aboard the
dreadnaught.

"I see," the Watchman said. "Thank you anyway."

"So here's where you've been hiding," the exec called
out. "Come on, the brigadier wants to see you right
away."

Vorgens stepped out of the communications compart-
ment and into the narrow passageway.

"I've been trying to establish contact with the cities or
Star Watch Headquarters. No luck," Vorgens said as they
started down the passageway -

"They've got us boxed in pretty well," the exec said.

"The reports from the patrols seem to indicate that,"
Vorgens admitted. "Any chance of signaling to the
orbiting ships?"

"What orbiting ships?"

"The transports that brought the Mobile Force here,
and their escorts. Perhaps the ships could ..."

"The ships aren't there. Watchman. They dropped the
Mobile Force three weeks ago and left Oran VI immedi-
ately. They won't be back until they're called for."

Vorgens blinked in disbelief. "But ... why?"

"It's a big Empire, son," the exec answered patiently,
"and transports are too valuable to be tied up sitting at
one planet, empty and useless."

"You mean we couldn't retreat off the planet, even if
we wanted to?"

"We could commandeer whatever ships are available
on the planet, which wouldn't be enough to carry all the
men, let alone the equipment. We could get Star Watch
ships in a week or so if we could make contact with
somebody outside this blasted valley."

"How in the world did all this come about?" Vorgens
wondered out loud.

The exec took him literally and replied, "It started with
some protest demonstrationssome farmers complaining
about a nutrient-processing center we were building for
them. The next thing we knew, there were riots in the
cities. Then the Governor was murdered by some fanatic.
The Mobile Force landed a week later, and two days
after that these Komani hordes landed in half a dozen
places across the planet and started terrorizing the coun-
tryside. So here we are."

The exec stopped walking abruptly, and Vorgens real-
ized he was standing before Brigadier Aikens' door.

"You know what I think," the executive officer stated,
rather than asked. "I think the whole mess is a plan by
the Komani to take over this planet, and it's just the first
step in a much bigger Komani plan."

"But they were our allies against the Masters," Vorgens
said.

"That was a hundred years ago, Watchman. Times
have changed since then."

Vorgens nodded.

"Well," said the exec, "good luck with the Old Man."

"You're not coming in with me?"

"No, I've got several chores to carry off before I get
my supper. If I get a chance to eat tonight." He flicked
a salute at Vorgens and turned away.

Vorgens automatically returned the salute, then turned
and confronted the brigadier's door. After an instant's
hesitation, he knocked twice.

"Enter."

He stepped into the compartment, saluted, and stood
at ramrod attention. Aikens. sitting behind his desk,
regarded the young Watchman for a moment, then indi-
cated with a nod the only other chair in the office. Vor-
gens sat down.

No two men on Oran VI looked less like each other.
Vorgens was small and wiry, and his golden brown skin
and coppery hair proclaimed him to be of non-Earthly
stock. His thin, fine-boned face, surmounted by a high
forehead, gave him a peculiarly babyish look-

Aikens was a typical Terran, towering above Vorgens'
height and outweighing him by half again. The brigadier's
only sign of encroaching years was his thinning hair and
well-creased face. He had made it a point to foster care-
fully the impression among his men that he was a flam-
boyant and daring leader. Even now he was wearing the
Imperial Marines' semi-dress uniform of green, red and
gold, as opposed to Vorgens' standard Star Watch black-
and-silver.

"I imagine you realize the situation we're in," Aikens
said flatly.

Vorgens nodded. "I have seen the reports of today's
patrols."

"This Mobile Force was dispatched to Oran VI to bol-
ster the Imperial garrison and restore order among the
native populace. When the Komani raiders landed, we
were ordered to induce them to return to their home-
world. 'A demonstration of force': that's how the orders
read. Well, for nearly three weeks now we've been trying
to pin them down for our little demonstration. Now
they've led us into a nasty trap. We're surrounded in this
valley, and it looks as though the Komani are perfectly
willing and eager to fight a full-scale battle."

"I know," Vorgens said.

"They're well armed with modem weapons, and their
tactics so far have been masterful. In short, Vorgens,
they've led me around by the nose for three weeks, and
they're ready to start slugging."

"Have you any idea of their numbers?"

Aikens shrugged. "We're outnumbered, that much is
certain. How badly, I can't tell. But that doesn't worry
me. Trained troops can always lick an undisciplined
horde of barbarians, no matter how clever the barbarians
are. They may have modem weapons, but we have more
firepower ... and armored vehicles."

"They seem to have greater mobility, though," Vorgens
observed.

"True enough, and their reconnaissance is much better
than ours. What we need is some airpower and a column
of reinforcements."

"Reinforcements?"

"Certainly. Oh, I'm positive we could handle this
Komani mob with the men we have right here, but once
they start taking a beating, the barbarians will melt back
into the hills again and we'll lose them." Aikens tapped
a forefinger on the stereomap as he spoke. "I want a
column of reinforcements, from the city garrisons, with
air cover and support, so we can pin down these barbar-
ians from the outside- Then, between our two forces, we
can crush them once and for all!"

Vorgens sat in puzzled thought for a moment. Then
he said, "Sir, there are two problems on Shinan the
native rebels, and the Komani raiders. If you strip the
cities of their garrisons to hit the Komani, you will be
giving the cities to the rebels."

Aikens shrugged. "One problem at a time. Watchman.
First we crush the Komani. The rebels will be easy to
handle after that. Why, we can even show the natives
that we helped them get rid of the barbarian invaders.
Might win back most of the populace that way."

"But your aide thinks that the rebels are working for
the Komani."

"True enough. He's probably right. But the majority
of the natives don't know that."

"It's a very mixed-up situation," Vorgens said.

Aikens smiled grimly. "We're going to unmix it and
make it perfectly simple. The first step is to get the city
garrisons marching toward this valley. I'm certain the
Komani won't be able to launch a full-scale attack on us
for several days. They've got us pinned down, and they'll
want us to run out of food and water before they attack.
Attrition tactics."

"Perhaps so," Vorgens said. "Now, brigadier, my
orders ..."

"Yes, your orders, that's why I called you in here."
Aikens leaned back in his chair. "I have a copy of your
orders here on my desk, but I'd like to hear how you
interpret them."

"There's not much to interpret."

"Come now, Watchman," Aikens countered. "You've
been with Mobile Force for how long now? Two full
days, isn't it? Certainly by now you realize that orders
cut and processed at Star Watch Headquarters couldn't
possibly foresee all the details of the situation here on
Oran VI."

"The orders are quite simple and explicit," Vorgens
insisted. "I am instructed to attempt to negotiate with
the chief of the Komani raiders. I am to tell him that
his people can return peacefully to their homeworid if
they stop their raiding on Oran VI immediately. I am
also to tell him that the Komani clan chieftains have
sworn to the Terran Council that they will remain loyal
to the Empire and will not in any way aid or sympathize
with this attack on Oran VI. I suppose I should remind
the raiders that the Komani were allies of the Terrans
during the Galactic War of the last century, and that this
attack on Imperial territory is a breach of friendship."

Commander Aikens gazed toward the ceiling as he
quietly asked, "And just how do you propose to contact
the Komani chief?"

"That's the difficult part," Vorgens admitted- "I had
hoped to arrive on this planet before the fighting got so
intense that the Komani would refuse to parley. It looks
as though I barely made it in time."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, simply that the Komani have not really opened
battle yet. We might still be able to discuss a truce."

"While we're surrounded?" Aikens shook his head.
"You don't understand these barbarians- The only time
they're ready to negotiate is when they're taking a
beating."

"My orders command me to attempt .. -"

"Your orders," Aikens interrupted, "place you under
my command for the duration of your stay on Oran VI.
Correct?"

"Yes ... but with the understanding that as an officer
of the Imperial Marines you are subject to the orders of
the Star Watch High Command and that you will assist
the Star Watch's attempt to bring about a peaceful settle-
ment with the Komani."

Aikens rose from his chair and strode wordlessly across
the small compartment. Then he turned and pointed a
finger at Vorgens.

"Listen, youngster, I'm just as anxious as you are to
talk the Komani out of a bloodletting. Those are my men
out there, and I'm responsible for their livesevery last
one of them. But if we try to parley from our present
positionsurrounded, cut off, and outnumberedthe
Komani will simply take it as a sign of weakness. We'll
be encouraging mem to attack. We'll be convincing them
that they've got us licked."

"It may be entirely unnecessary to fight at all," Vor-
gens insisted-

The brigadier nodded curtly. "Maybe. We'll see."

Aikens returned to his desk and sat down. Leaning
over die stereomap, he said to Vorgens:

"This is what we're going to do. Tomorrow morning',
I'll send out more patrolsstronger patrols than
today'swith armor. They'll probe the Komani lines and
keep the barbarians off balance. Meanwhile, you will take
an armored cruiser and a picked detachment of men and
break through the Komani lines."

Vorgens' mouth dropped open, but the brigadier
waved him down before he could say anything. "You
will break through the Komani lines and outrun their
communications jammers. Then you will call for rein-
forcements from the garrisons of the cities we now hold."

"These are your orders?"

"That's right. Watchman. I'll give you two days and
two nights to get the reinforcements here. I doubt if the
Komani will attack before men. They've got men scat-
tered halfway across the planet, and they'll want to group
them together before they tackle us in earnest.

"Youu have to draw every last man you can get. Use
your authority as a Star Watchman. I want a strong
enough force to smash these marauding barbarians once
and for all."

"And the truce negotiations?"

"Let them make the request for a truce," Aikens
snapped.

"Then you refuse to obey the express orders of the
Star Watch High Command?"

Aikens glared at the Watchman. "What are you trying
to do, youngster, set me up for a board of inquiry? No,
I do not refuse to carry out the High Command's orders,
I simply feel that the situation is so precarious at the
moment that the orders can't be put into effect. Not at
this time and place."

Vorgens stood up. "I suppose it would be pointless to
attempt to argue you out of this decision."

"Completely pointless. Good evening."

The young Star Watchman saluted and left the briga-
dier's compartment. He stood outside the door for a
moment after closing it, frowning worriedly. Then he
slowly made his way down the narrow passage, past the
compact booths of officers' quarters, climbed through a
hatch and clambered down the side of the dreadnaught
to the ground.

It was not much wanner outside than in, now that
Oran had set. But the night was never completely dark,
despite the hour. Oran was six times brighter than Sol,
and its luminosity was great enough to keep a twilight
glow in the air all night long.

Vorgens paced slowly around the mammoth dread-
naught, watching his boots stir up the dust. The Star
Watch orders me to parley; the brigadier orders me to
fight, he thought to himself. Orders are orders. But
which set do I obey?



III

Father and Son


Halfway across the planet it was still bright daylight.

The home of Clanthas, the merchant, was neither par-
ticularly large nor well-adomed, It stood at the crest of
a hill, flanked by equally good houses, and overlooked
the harbor of the small city of Katan. Unlike the four
major cities of Shinar, the port city of Katan was not
occupied by a Terran garrison.

Until a year earlier, Clanthas had been distinguished
from his fellow merchants only by being a shade quicker-
witted and, perhaps, blessed with slightly more man his
share of good fortune. In those days, before the rebellion
against me Terran Empire, Clanthas could be seen dur-
ing most sunny afternoons of the warm summer sitting
on the balcony that spanned his house, either relaxing or
conducting business, as the occasion demanded.

It was about a year ago that the first farmers began to
trickle into Katan, complaining that the Terrans had
driven them off their own soil, so that the land could be
used for factories that made synthetic foodstuffs.

Clanthas, whose business depended on buying and
selling the farmers' produce, appealed to the Terran gov-
ernor. The nutrient processors were necessary, even vital,
he was told.

Instead of quietly trying to make the best of the situa-
tion, as most of his countrymen did, Clanthas recalled
something his son had told him, some quotation from
galactic history that the youth was studying at the
university:

"A man is free because he has the brains and the
courage to stand on his own feet and go his own way.
And for a man to remain free, he and his fellow men
must be strong enough to resist those who would enslave
them."

Those words had been spoken more than a century
ago by a Terran, Geoffrey Knowland, the conqueror who
defeated the Masters and established the Terrans as rulers
over Shinar.

Clanthas decided that the Terran's words made sense,
even when applied against the Terrans themselves. So
he acted-

He organized the farmers and held a demonstration in
Katan. He organized similar demonstrations in the major
cities. Inevitably, some of the larger demonstrations
developed into riots. Troops were called in; shots were
fired. Unarmed civilians were killed. Tempers flared. Vio-
Jent men took action. The Terran governor was mur-
dered. The Imperial Marines arrived. Komani warriors
landed on the planet.

Before he had time to realize it, Clanthas had become
the acting leader of his people. He was squarely in an
increasingly impossible position. On the one hand stood
the Empire-building Terrans, intent on "pacifying" Shi-
nar and returning it to the status of a docile colony. On
the other were the fearsome Komani, with plans of their
own. Even among his own people, there were hotheads
and opportunists over whom Clanthas had no control.

On this particular afternoon, however, he was trying
to put aside thoughts of politics and fighting to confront
his only son simply as a bewildered and outraged father.

Clanthas sat on the edge of a large, well-padded chair.
He watched intently the image of his son on the screen
of the tri-di transceiver in the small room that Clanthas
used for private conversations. By the standards of his
race, the' merchant was in prime middle life. His com-
plexion was nut brown, his hair dark, his eyes like coal.
He had accumulated weight with his years, so that now
he was broad-girthed and puffy-faced, but his eyes were
still clear and piercing.

His son, Merdon, showed what the merchant must
have looked like in his youth: tall, broad, strong-limbed.
The two men shared the same facial characteristics
prominent cheekbones, broad brow, massive, stubborn
jaw.

"Merdon. I told you this was raving lunacy when you
first revealea your idiotic plans to me," the older man
raged. "I was wrong. It's worse. It's doom. It's damna-
tion. It's the ruin ofour planet and our people- And my
sonmy only sonis the ringleader."

Merdon shook his head slowly and waited for his father
to go on.

"Why couldn't you have trusted my judgment? You, of
all people! You should have remained at my side, and
helped me to control your hot-blooded young friends.
You should have warned me of the plot against the gover-
nor's life. Instead you remained silent. You should have
spoken against those who wanted to shoot back at the
Terrans. Instead you went even farther."

"I did what I had to do, Father. The Terrans weren't
going to be swayed by mere words."

"Oh no, you had to be clever. One step ahead of every-
one, including your father. Free the pfanet! Throw the
foreigners out! How? By inviting other foreigners in to
fight for us. Barbarians!"

"But it's working," the youth said defensively. "The
Komani have beaten the Terran garrison in several
engagements."

"Yes, and now the Imperial Marines are here."

"And the Komani have trapped them."

"WHAT?"

"Didn't you know? The Terrans have been trapped in
a valleyin the Carmeer district. The Komani have them
surrounded. It's only a matter of time...."

Clanthas sank back in his chair. "Only a matter of
time," he moaned, "before our planet is completely at
the mercy of these barbarians." He looked up at his son.
"You're certain of this?"

"Okatar Kang is gathering his men from every corner
of the planet. Our own fighting units are joining him.
There's even talk of contingents from other Komani clans
landing on Shinar to join the battle."

Uke vermin attracted to an open wound, thought
Clanthas.

Merdon continued, "Okatar wants to be certain of
overpowering strength before- we attack the Terrans.
We'll wipe them out completely!"

"Listen to me," Clanthas commanded. "Keep your
men away from that battle. Don't join in it. The Terrans
don't realize that weyouinvited the Komani to Shi-
nar to fight for us. If they ever find out, they'll never
trust any of us again."

"But. . ."

Clanthas waved his son to silence. "If the Komani beat
the Terrans, they might be weakened enough for us to
overcome them. If the Terrans win, we can say we had
no active role in fighting against them. Perhaps we can
still escape from this circle of doom in which you've
placed us."

"Father, you don't understand. The Komani are our
allies. They have come to Shinar because we asked them.

They are fighting for us. They are dying to help free us
from the Terrans."

The ex-merchant swore under his breath. Aloud, he
said, "The Komani are barbarians. They have no allies.
Now they are lolling Terrans. Next they will kill
Shinarians."

"Father, you must learn to trust them."

"I trust them! I trust them to loot this planet when
they've finished with the Terrans. I trust them to sack
and bum and destroy everything they can't carry away
with them, and I trust they'll start just as soon as the
Terrans are wiped out."

"No. They've promised they'll loot only the Terrans."

"I suppose the villages that they've raided were popu-
lated with Terrans."

Merdon frowned at his father. "That was a misunder-
standing. They needed food, and the stupid farmers
refused to feed them. Some of the Komani warriors got
out of hand, but we've made arrangements that will elim-
inate that sort of thing in the future."

"Fine. And what will your friend Okatar Kang do when
he leams that there are warehouses full of food and an
arsenal full of equipment right here in Katan?"

"I will protect you," Merdon said, a slight smile steal-
ing across his face.

Clanthas shook his head. "No you won't. You'll be
dead- If you participate in the coming battle against the
Terrans trapped in that valley, you will be killed. Either
by the Terrans or the Komani-"

"Father!"

"Don't be naive. You are one of the principal leaders
of the rebels. Alive, you are a stubborn, strong-minded,
idealistic, capable leader of all the younger idiots of Shi-
nar. You've turned against the Terrans. Someday you will
rum against the Komani. But deadthen you'll be a
martyr to the antiTerran cause. The Komani can count
on your heroic memory to hold all your rebellious friends
in line long past the point where you, yourself, would
have broken with them,"

"I'm flattered. Father, but you overestimate my impor-
tance. The real objective is to free Shinar of the Terrans
and their rotten Empire."

"Free us? And leave the Komani on our backs?"

"They'll leave, after the Terrans have been driven off."

"And after we're pillaged."

"No ... "

"Do you think that the Terrans are going to allow the
Komani to escape unpunished? They'O send a stronger
force to Shinar. It might even be on its way here at this
moment. You're turning your homeworld into a
battleground."

Merdon's face went completely blank. "There's no
point in continuing this argument. Father. You won't
change your mind. But someday you'U be proud of your
son and the things he will have done for Shinar."

"I hope so," Clanthas said wearily, "but I doubt it."

The youth said nothing. His body gradually dissolved
and disappeared, leaving his father sitting there in
silence, staring at the bare screen of the tri-di transceiver.

Merdon also remained sitting before his tri-di set for
many minutes after his father's image had faded into
nothingness. He frowned moodily, weighing his father's
words of warning.

Abruptly, he shook his head and got up from the seat.
"You're a well-meaning old man," Merdon said softly
to his unhearing father, "but you're hopelessly wedded
to the past. The Terrans became our overlords by driving
the Masters out of the Galaxy. It took action, forcenot
words and demonstrations. To drive the Terrans off Shi-
nar, we must use force." Merdon nodded to himself. He
was right, he knew, and his father wrong. And yet ...
Clanthas felt that the Komani could not be trusted. Per-
haps there was a kernel of truth there.

The youth stepped away from the tri-di booth and
looked around- He was in a deserted factory, one of the
few that the Terrans had built before the rebellion had
broken out. Long rows of silent machines stood untended
in the half-light of evening. Merdon snapped off the lamp
that illuminated the tri-di booth and stared briefly at the
Terran machinery.

Nutrient processors. His face wrinkled in disgust at
them. The Terrans can't grow food from the ground, the
way normal human being do. Too slow. Not enough
yield. They must hurry things, take elements directly
from the soil and the air and convert them into artificial
protein, synthetic foodstuffs. A few chemicals added here
and a few enzymes injected there, and the accumulated
knowledge of sixty centuries of planting and growing and
harvesting is blasted out of existence.

He strode out of the factory, into the cool night air.
Shinar had no moon, but the night-long airglow created
a shimmering twilight that prevented real darkness,

Merdon looked at the youths lounging in the com-
pound between the massive Terran buildings. These
were his fighters, the new heroes of Shinar, he thought.
Sons and daughters of farmers and philosophersand
even merchants.

A young girl walked up to him. "There are some new
recruits waiting to see you, on the other side of the
gates."

"Let them come in, Altai," he said quietly.
She turned and walked toward the gate. Altai was tall
for a girl, with a slim athletic build and a natural grace
that made watching her a pleasure. She was not particu-
larly beautiful, but she had the knack of looking com-
pletely feminine even in slacks, and with an automatic
rifle slung over her shoulder. Maybe it was her long, jet-
black hair, or her voice.

Merdon found himself smiling as he watched her go
toward the gates. Maybe it was just the way she looked
in slacks.

"Merdon, I have the completed tally of the weapons
we got from the arsenal...."

He turned and focused his attention on the bookish
student who had become his quartermaster. Then a half-
dozen of his lieutenants converged on Merdon with ques-
tions about rations, ammunition, and the best route to
take for joining up with the Komani at the valley at
Carmeer.

It was nearly an hour before he could break free and
inspect the new recruits. They were a typically mixed
bunch: some students, a few adventurers, one boy he
recognized to be a distant cousin, and a quartet of fann-
ers, shuffling around, feeling miserably out of place.

Merdon welcomed them all solemnly.

"I want you all to realize," he said as they gathered
around him, "that many of us will die before Shinar
becomes free. If any of you are reluctant to face death,
if any of you belong to families that need you to run
their farms, or earn their living, you are free to go now,
uid no one will think less of you for it. But once you
stand with us, you are in an army, and rigid discipline
will be enforced."

"May I speak?" one of the students asked.

"Certainly."

"The ground we're standing on now was once my
father's farm. The Terrans took it to build their
factories."

"What became of your father?"

"Terrans paid him what they said was a fair price for
his land. He wasn't permitted to argue. He went to
Kolmar City 'to find a job, but ail he knew was farming.
He ... well, he's just a shell of the man he once was."

"I see."

One of the farmers spoke up. "The same thing happened
to us, in our district. I'll die before I see them turn my
farm into a factory."

The others nodded agreement.

"I hope that none of us has to die," Merdon said qui-
etly, "but I expect us all to fight until we win."

He turned the group over to one of his lieutenants
and walked off toward the far end of the compound. He
did not have to look over his shoulder to know that Altai
was walking behind him. He slowed down and let her
come abreast of him.

"You spoke to your father again?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Do the others know?"

He turned and faced her. "What if they do? He's my
father."

She smiled. "So touchy tonight! You get angry and
argumentative every time you speak with him. Did you
know that?"

"No, I didn't realize it."

Altai put her hand to his cheek- "You mustn't let any-
one or anything upset you. Your mind must be clear at
all times. You hold our lives in your hands.. .."

"Your life too?"

"Yes."

"And your heart?"

"Of course."

"That's all I care about."

She shook her head and answered gravely, "You have
much more to worry about than me."

"I wish I didn't," he said impulsively. He frowned for
a moment, then said:

"Listen. Romal has just made up a tally of the weapons
we took from the arsenal last night. I want you to divide
that list in halfand tell no one except Romal about it.
Then, quietly, with as few men as possible, have half the
weapons stored here, and the other half sent along with
the new recruits to the Komani camp tomorrow."

"You're keeping half the weapons from the Komani?"

He nodded. "Hide them in the buildings here. Half
the ammunition, too."

"But why?"

"I'm not sure. The Komani may be our allies, but I'd
feel safer if we had some weapons available that they
didn't know about. I don't want to find out some day
that we've driven off the Terrans, only to have the bar-
barians ruling over us."

"Suppose they discover it...."

"They won't."

"But you're supposed to go to their camp tomorrow.
You'll be in their midst."

"That's a chance I must take."

"You're playing a dangerous game," Altai said.

"So are we all," Merdon replied.



IV

Prisoners


The sun rose abruptly over the hills, and a wave of heat
swept across the valley where the Mobile Force lay
huddled.

Sergeant Mclntyre stood before a heavy cruiser, shak-
ing his head. "I don't like it one bit, if you'll pardon me
for saying so, sir."

Vorgens turned to the sergeant and studied his face
for a moment. It was a narrow-eyed, weather-seamed,
professional soldier's face: broad and rugged, set on a
thick, solid frame. Mclntyre was built big, as were all
the true Terrans.

"What don't you like, sergeant?" the Star Watchman
asked.

"The whole setup, sir. It's goin' to take a lot more'n
one heavy cruiser and a detachment of leftovers from
yesterday's patrols to break through the Komani lines."

"Would you rather report back to your company
commander?"

Mclntyre's eyes widened in surprise for just a flash of
a second. Then he drew himself up as straight as he
could stand. "No sir. I was asked to volunteer and I did.
I'll stick it out as long as you do, sir."

Vorgens smiled. "Good. I don't like the setup any more
than you do, sergeant, but somebody's got to try it, and
I guess we've been nominated. Let's start moving."

They swung up the ladder and ducked into the turret
hatch. The cruiser was air-conditioned to Terran stan-
dards; the sudden drop of temperature inside made Vor-
gens shudder involuntarily. He felt more comfortable in
the hot sunshine.

The cruiser's blowers whined shrilly and blasted jets
of air straight downward. As the shrieking grew higher
in pitch, the lumbering behemoth edged higher off the
ground, while the air jets scoured dust and rocks from
beneath it. Finally the turbos' whining rose past the
range audible to the human ear; the cruiser was now a
good foot above the ground. She slid forward slowly,
hatches open and a knot of footsoldiers riding topside
behind the turret.

When they reached the end of the valley floor and
rumbled past the last perimeter entrenchment, Vorgens
popped out of the turret hatch and told the footmen:

"All right, nowget off and spread out. Keep low and
move fast. Stay within sight of the cruiser. Report the
slightest sign of movement. Remember, they've been
watching us from up in the hills, so we're bound to be
attacked."

He dropped back into the bowels of the cruiser and
strapped himself into a slightly too-big bucket seat, next
to Mclntyre, Vorgens turned on the omnidirectional
video scanner and donned the communications headset.

Soon they were climbing the first low hills, and the
countryside was changing from the bare rocldness of the
valley to wide patches of dark grass and ever-thickening
bush.

"These cruisers ain't much help in this terrain," Mcin-
tyre muttered.

"What's that?" Vorgens asked.

"Cruisers can't take a very steep grade, sir. In climbing
terrain like this, we've gotta stick to the gentlest slopes.
That means the Komani can plot our course before we
can. They know just where we've gotta go."

"Hm. Perhaps so." Vorgens fingered the control dials
of the scanner. "No sign of anything so far, though."

After a few minutes of silence, Mclntyre said, "Sir?"

"Yes?" Vorgens answered without taking his eyes from
the screen.

"How come a Star Watch officer is leadin' this mis-
sion? If you don't mind my asking, sir."

Vorgens looked up at him. "Brigadier Aikens is in
charge of all Imperial personnel on this planet."

"But ain't the Imperial Marines under the Star Watch's
command? I mean, the Marinesthis Mobile Force
we're just a branch of the Star Watch."

Vorgens nodded. "Yes. Brigadier Aikens takes orders
from the Star Watch High Command. That doesn't mean
that a Star Watch junior officer can order around a full
brigadier. You know that, sergeant. What are you driving
at?"

"Maybe I shouldn't be repeating a rumor, sir," Mcln-
tyre said, avoiding Vorgens' eyes, "butwell, is it true
that you were supposed to arrange a truce with the
Komani?"

So he knows! Vorgens thought. Probably the word is
out to every trooper in the Mobile Force.

Aloud, he answered, "I was ordered to arrange a truce,
when the military situation permits negotiations to be
made. Brigadier Aikens must decide when the situation
is right for truce talks. I'm responsible to him while I'm
here."

"And he ordered you on this breakout mission," Mcln-
tyre said.

"Yes."

"That means he don't want a truce ... and he don't
expect us back. He's gonna fight the Komani, and he
wants usyou, that isout of his way."

Vorgens stiffened. "Sergeant, our mission is to break
through the Komani lines and summon reinforcements
to the Mobile Force, not to make half-cocked psycho-
analyses of our commanding officer." No matter how
rigfvt they may he, he added silently.

"Yes sir," Mclntyre said.

The ground got steeper and more densely covered
with foliage as me hours passed. As Mclntyre had pre-
dicted, the cruiser's pilot had to keep the vehicle gliding
along the flattest, easiest slopes. They followed a twisting,
meandering path, avoiding the steeper grades and areas
that were covered with boulders or large bushes. The sun
climbed higher as Vorgens silently watched the seemingly
empty countryside unfold on his scanner screen.

There are a thousand places for an ambush along this
way, he thought. But it will take some doing for even
Komani warriors to stop a heavy cruiser. It all depends
on what kinds of weapons they 'have; how much equip-
ment. Like the tales of the old ones back home, when the
Terrans first proclaimed their Empire ... men against
machines.

"Enemy breastworks at ten o'clock!"

Vorgens snapped his attention to the viewscreen. He
twisted a dial and saw the entrenchment, about a hundred
fifty yards from the cruiser. He dialed a close-up view.
Empty.

"Hey, they're firing from the ridgethree o'clock!"
another footman called.

Vorgens dialed the scene. Sporadic small-arms fire was
coming from the ridge. Off to one side, he noticed a
small clump of trees. He dialed a close-up.

"Enemy troops in those trees at two o'clock," he called
into his mouthpiece.

The footmen on the right flank dropped to the ground
as Mclntyre drove the turret around and swept the trees
with ultrasonic beams. Then he swung back and launched
a missile toward the ridge.

"They're charging! Ten o'clock!"

Komani warriors were swarming in on one-man flyers,
saddlelike machines that gave them terrifying speed and
mobility. Vorgens could see them plainly now, huge,
humanoid warriors in gleaming battle armor, their arms
covered with tuzzy greenish hair, their faces more like
cats than men.

Mclntyre was blazing away with everything available
now and the footmen were laying down a heavy fire. The
Komani were being mowed down in the volley, but still
more of them came, some of them brandishing their
ceremonial broadswords.

Vorgens dialed the other side of the cruiser, and spoke
into his mouthpiece, "Keep both our flanks covered, no
matter ..."

The screen exploded in a shower of glass and Vorgens
was smashed back in his chair as the whole cruiser
lurched violently.

Vorgens shook his head groggily, It was dark inside
the turret, and strangely quiet. A surge of panic flashed
through the Watchman, but he fought it down automati-
cally, The cruiser was stopped. Power off. But Fin still
in one piece ... I think.

Vorgens unbuckled his safety strap and turned around
in his seat. His head hurt, a dull, sullen pain. In the
dimness he could see Mclntyre sprawled unconscious
next to him, his left arm twisted grotesquely,

Unconscious orno, nohe's breathing.

His eyes were getting accustomed to the shadows now.
Vorgens could both see and smell a faint acrid smoke
drifting through the shattered turret. There were no signs
of life from the men below. He realized that his right
hand was throbbing. A glass splinter was sticking into the
palm and a steady trickle of blood oozed from it.

He pulled it out, wincing, then reached across Mdn-
tyre's inert form for the first-aid kit on the turret bulk-
head. Clumsily, with his left hand, he swabbed the cut
and sprayed a plastic over it. Then he carefully brushed
his jacket and pants clean of the other fragments that
had showered him.

Mclntyre began to moan.

"Easy sergeant. Don't try to move. Your arm's broken."

"What happened?"

"Nuclear grenade, I imagine. They only needed one."

Mclntyre closed his eyes and leaned back. "I told you
we weren't supposed to come out out of this alive."

"We're not dead yet."

Vorgens rose from his seat gingerly. His knees were a
little wobbly, but only a little. He jabbed a sedative into
McIntyre's good arm, then decided it was too cramped
and dark in the turret to attempt to set the broken bone.
He reached up for the overhead hatch, the debris lit-
tering the deck crunching under his boots as he moved.

"I'm going to take a look around," he said to Mclntyre.

The Watchman climbed up on his chair and pushed
open the turret hatch. Cautiously he stuck his head out
into the sunshine. The right side of the cruiser was
smashed in, the turret itself tilted slightly askew. For a
radius of fifty yards around, the ground was scorched
black.

At the top of a little hillock, some hundred yards from
the cruiser, three figures were moving slowly among the
sprawled bodies. Two were Komani warriors, the third a
native of Oran VI who wore the flowing white robes of
a priest.

Blessing the dead, Vorgens thought.

They saw him, and one of the warriors raised his rifle.

"Don't fire!" Vorgens called out in standard Terran.
"There's a wounded man in here."

"Bring him out," the warrior commanded.

"I'll need help."

They consulted among themselves. The
seemed apathetic, but the olive-skinned priest evidently
persuaded them. One of the Komani came while the
other remained with the priest, armed and ready. The
warrior literally dwarfed Vorgens. His powerful body
looked fully human, but his face was felinewide-spaced
cat's eyes, flat nose, broad slash of a mouth. His ears
were a pair of tiny cups atop his skull. The whole face
and head was covered with a wiry, greenish fuzz.

warriors

With the giant Komani's help, Vorgens pulled Mcin-
tyre out of the turret and carried him to the shade of
me trees atop the hillock. The native priest set the ser-
geant's arm while Vorgens applied Terran anesthetics and
antibiotics. Together, they put on a plastic splint and
binding.

"Are we the only ones left alive?" Vorgens asked the
priest in his own language after Mclntyre was safely
asleep.

"About half the Komani force survived. They have
gone elsewhere now, leaving only these two to search for
toot and prisoners. There are two others of your footmen
nearby, although one is near death from his wounds."

The priest led Vorgens across to the windswept ridge
on the other side of the cruiser. They both tried for more
than an hour to save the wounded trooperin vain. Then
they started back to the grove of trees where Mclntyre
was resting. With them came the other Terran prisoner
private Neal Giradauxtall, lanky, trying hard not to look
afraid.

"You speak our tongue," the priest observed as they
walked back to the trees.

"It was taught to me before I was sent here," Vorgens
said. "Actually, it's not much different from my own
native language."

By the time they got back to the grove, Mclntyre was
sitting up with his back against a tree, his splinted and
bandaged left arm sticking out awkwardly at his side. The
two Komani warriors stood some distance away, aloof
and impassive.

"By glory, it's Mac!" Giradaux shouted as they
approached. "You're alive, sarge!"

"Well, if you made it, soldier," Mclntyre shot back,
"did you think I wouldn't?"

Giradaux ran up to the sergeant and squatted beside
him. "Are you okay, Sarge?"

"Broke my arm when they got the cruiser. How about
you?"

"Knocked out by the blast. That's all."

Vorgens joined them as the priest went to the two
warriors. "You two are in the same outfit?"

"Not now, sir," Mclntyre answered. "But I broke this
pup into the service a coupla years ago."

"I see," Vorgens said. "Sergeant, do you feel strong
enough to walk? The priest tells me that the Komani
want to take us to their headquarters."

Mclntyre grunted. "I guess I'll hafta walk, then ... or
be dragged."

"I'll help you, Sarge," Giradaux offered.

"Get your trench-diggin' hands off me!" Mclntyre bel-
lowed. "You think a busted arm means I'm helpless?"

"No, Sarge." Giradaux grinned.

Mclntyre struggled to his feet and stood at attention.
"All right, sir. I'm ready to go."

The sun was nearly at zenith as the little band of men
started their journey. The beginning was easy enough
down the reverse slope of the hills they had been in most
of the morning. The sun's warmth was tempered by cool
breezes and frequent clumps of trees that threw dense
shade. They stopped briefly after an hour's march and
ate a scant meal: a few dried vegetables, a lump of some-
thing like bread, and water from a running stream.

Then came the worst of ittrudging across another
dry, rocky valley under the heat of the afternoon sun.

The yellow sun seemed to hang directly overhead, no
matter how far or how long they plodded across the bar-
ren valley. Twice the size of Sol and six times brighter,
Oran beat mercilessly on the bare rocks, withering the
scrubby plants, making the air dance with heat currents,
wringing streams of sweat from the weary men, roaring
in their ears and dazzling their eyes with painful glare.

Mclntyre had pulled down the giare visor from his
helmet when they started across the valley. But as they
struggled through the long afternoon, he saw that Vor-
gens and Giradaux had neither helmet nor visor.

"Sir," he asked of Vorgens, "would you like my
helmet?"

The Star Watchman shook his head. "No thanks,
Sergeant."

"I have an extra pair of glare goggles in my pocket,
then. They're on this side," he gestured with his ban-
daged arm, "so you'll hafta get them for yourself."

"I don't need them, Mclntyre, thanks. This star is
pretty bright, but it's not as brilliant as the one I was
bom under. What I need more than goggles is a long,
cool drink and a fresh breeze."

Mclntyre was silent for a moment.

"You might give the goggles to Ciradaux. He seems to
be having a hard time of it."

Mclntyre grinned. "Yes sir. Hey, Gerry!" he called to
the trooper, marching a few yards ahead of them.

"Yeah, Sarge?"

"Where's your helmet, trooper?"

Ciradaux slackened his pace momentarily, until he was
beside the other two. "Gee, Sarge, I dunno where it is.
I must've left it on that ridge. . . ."

Mclntyre shook his head. "You're expected to give up
your weapon when you're taken prisoner, but you don't
hafta strip naked! That helmet costs the Empire money."

"I know, Sarge," Giradaux looked miserable, "and I
could use the glare visor, too."

"Here, fish in this pocket and get my spare goggles
before you go blind ..."

"Thanks, Mac!"

"Think I'm gonna let you charge the Empire for a
disability pension because you're careless?"

The going got rougher as the long afternoon wore on.
Before they reached high ground again, Mclntyre was
allowing Giradaux and Vorgens to take turns supporting
him. The priest gave them water from a canteen he car-
ried within the folds of his robe. The Komani warriors
were impassive, except for insisting that the prisoners
maintain the pace of the march.

"How come the Komani don't need glare visors?" Gir-
adaux asked as they struggled up a slope.

"Look at their eyes," Mclntyre answered. "They nar-
row down to slits ... just like a rotten cat's."

Finally they reached the crest of a wooded ridge, and
were out of the glaring heat. They rested for a few
minutes, then were on their way againthis time along
the ridge, under the tall trees."

With Mclntyre able to get along by himself again, Vor-
gens turned his attention to the surroundings. The trees,
the grass, the blue sky, the sounds of birds and insects
... it was practically the same as on his homeworld. The
leaves were a darker shade of green, the birds were
slightly different ... yet not so different after all. And
the native priesthe was smaller than Vorgens, his skin
slightly darker. No doubt his bones and joints and inter-
nal organs were somewhat different, but he was human.

Thousands of parsecs from his homeworld, and even
farther from Earth, here was a planet that bore not only
Earth-type life, but human life.

Don't get emotional, Vorgens told himself. Human life
is a logical development in the evolution of an Earth-type
planet. It happened on your homeworld, it happened on
Earth, it's happened spontaneously on some fifteen thou-
sand planets within the Empire.

He watched a small, furry animal scurry across the
trail up ahead and dash up a tree trunk. Still, he thought,
it's not much less than miraculous.

The priest especially fascinated Vorgens. He was evi-
dently quite old, yet he carried himself with a dignity
that forced respect. His sidn was a deep brown, his eyes
jet black, and what was left of his wispy hair was silverish.
His face was spiderwebbed with age, and Vorgens finally
realized that this was what intrigued him. He had never
seen a really old person before, not face to face. On
Plione IX, his homeworld, on Mars, where he received
his Star Watch training, on Earth and throughout the
Terran Empire, he had never seen a truly old person
close up. The physical signs of age had been eliminated
by Terran science centuries ago.

Vorgens soon found himself talking with the priest
Sittas was his nameas the little group made its way
through the cool woods. They talked of general things,
noncommittal things, things that had nothing to do with
war and the inevitability of death.

"Tell me of your homeworld," Sittas asked.

"It's a long, long distance from here, even in a
starship," Vorgens said. "Phone IXthe ninth planet cir-
cling the star that the Terrans call Plione; a giant blue
star, much larger and hotter than Oran, although our
planet is considerably farther away from Plione than you
are from your sun."

"And your homeworld is like our world here?"

Vorgens nodded. "Very much. It's a little smaller than
Oran VI. . .."

"What is Oran VI?"

"Huh? Why. this planetyour world, here."

"Of course, of course," Sittas said, smiling. "That is
the Terran name for our world. In the hill villages, where
I am from, we see very few Terrans."

"What do you call the planet?"

"Its name is Shinar,"

"Shinar," Vorgens repeated. "That means ... urn,
something to do with home, isn't it?"

The priest nodded. "Home, yes. It also means peace.
and life, and many other things besides."

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then Vor-
gens said, "I'm surprised to see a native priest with the
Komani raiders."

Sittas smiled. "They have souls. I am a priest."

"Yes, but they are looting your peopleturning your
planet into a battlefield-..."

"Does that make them impossible to change? Does
that doom them to our everlasting hatred? Were not the
Komani of this very clan once the allies of the Terrans?"

"Yes," Vorgens admitted. "The entire Komani nation
fought on the side of the Terrans in the Galactic War,
but that was a century ago, and now ..."

"And now you loll one another. Does that mean that
you cannot stop the killing and live in peace once again?"

"I see." Vorgens said. "I understand," To himself he
added. We have a lot in common, old man. You and I
may be the only sane ones on this planet.

Sittas changed the subject abruptly, and the young Star
Watchman told the old priest of many things as they
walked through the long afternoon under the cool trees
along the nameless ridge. Vorgens found himself talking
for the first time in years about his homeworld.

Plione IX, circling the brightest star of the Pleiades,
a massive blue giant whose fierce radiation made life
impossible on all but its outermost planets.

Plione IX, known as Bhr'houd'grinr until the Terrans
landed and began to homogenize the local culture into
the standard Terran blend and incorporate the planet
into the efficient, expanding Empire.

"My people were also allies of the Terrans during the
Galactic War," Vorgens said, "but when we were annexed
into the Empire, instead of allowed our own government,
the people tried to fight. It was hopeless, though.

"My grandfather was one of the few men on our planet
to recognize that the Terrans were unbeatable," Vorgens
told the receptive Sittas. "As proof of his convictions, he
sent his oldest son to join the Terran Star Watch, to be
trained and educated by the Terransto serve them. By
this example, he hoped to prove to his compatriots that
life within the Terran Empire was better than a hopeless
war of resistance."

"And was he successful?" Sittas asked.

Vorgens shrugged. "He died before the war was finally
ended. Assassinated. Plione IX is now a peaceful member
of the Empire; its people are prosperous and happy. My
father is still in the Star Watch, and he made certain
that I became a Watchman, too."

"And you?"

"I'm not very prosperous," Vorgens answered, smiling.
"but I was happy enough in the Star Watchuntil Oran
VI. I mean, Shinar."

Then, quite suddenly, Vorgens had nothing left to say
to the priest. They had talked of the past and the present,
but neither of them wanted to speak about the future.
They moved apart by mutual, unspoken agreement.

Vorgens rejoined Mclntyre and Giradaux. who were
still slogging along side by side over the steadily-rising
ground.

"How's it going?" Vorgens asked the sergeant.

Mclntyre shrugged with one shoulder. "Okay. The arm
hurts a little, but not much. You know, we've been passin'
guard posts for the past hour or so."

"I hadn't noticed," Vorgens blurted.

Mclntyre pointed with his eyes. "Up there, sir, there's
another one."

Vorgens glanced at a jutting rock off to one side of
the trail. A Komani was flattened out on top of it, his
greenish body hair and gray clothing a near-perfect cam-
ouflage in the heavy foliage atop the rock.

"Yes, I see," Vorgens said. "We must be approaching
their headquarters."

"Geny and I have been takin' bearings as well as we
can, sir," Mclntyre said in a lower voice. "I think we'll
be able to spot their headquarters on map coordinates
when we get back to the Mobile Force."

"Fine," Vorgens said absently as he silently changed
Mclntyre's when to an if.

"Sir?" Giradaux asked, and at Vorgens' nod went on,
"How come a native priest is with the Komani? I thought
the barbarians were raiding this planet and the natives
want us to throw 'em out."

"That's what I thought, too," Vorgens said. "But
there's more to this story than the part we know. A lot
more."



V

The Face of
the Enemy


The Komani camp was a shock.

Not only was it bigger and much better equipped than
Vorgens had expected, but there were almost as many
Shinarian natives milling around in it as Komani.

The camp was set on a broad, thinly wooded meadow.
Off to one end were dozens of landing ships, slim,
needle-nosed, erect and gleaming in the slanting rays of
the setting sun. Except for a small blast ring around the
ships, the meadow was covered with Komani bubble-
tents, thousands of them, each brightly colored in a dis-
tinctive family insignia, each housing anywhere from one
warrior to a dozen. Laced between the colorful bubbles
were pennants, ceremonial fires, stacks of equipment and
weapons.

The exact center of the encampment was the site of
the largest tent of all, colored pure gold: the home of
the tribal Kang.

"They're pretty brazen, camping in the open," Mcin-
tyre growled as they first saw the meadow.

"They've probably got an energy screen that'll protect
'em against missiles and aircraft, Sarge," Giradaux said.
"You'd either have to hit 'em with heavy beamguns from
a starship, or attack 'em overland. They've got the
approaches bottled up pretty tight,"

Mclntyre muttered to himself.

They were led into the camp, through row after row
of gaudy bubble-tents, stared at silently by the solemn
Komani warriors, women and children. They stared back
intently at this unexpected close-up of their enemy's
base.

"What're all the natives doin' here?" Mclntyre won-
dered. "I thought the Komani were raidin' them. Why're
they actin' so friendly?"

The Shinarians were there, if not in force, then cer-
tainly in numbers. Groups of olive-skinned natives were
everywhere in the Komani camp, selling food to Komani
women, bargaining over jewelry with Komani nobles,
demonstrating mobile energy beam projectors to Komani
technicians.

But, worse still, Vorgens saw many of the natives were
simply talkingquietly and earnestlywith Komani war-
riors. And the natives wore weapons.

Finally the Terrans were ushered into a bubble-tent.
It was furnished with a single low-slung table; nothing
else- The lone doorway was guarded by four heavily
armed warriors, the smallest of them a full head taller
and seemingly a yard wider than Mclntyre.

"The last word in hospitality," Giradaux joked lamely-

Mclntyre tapped a heel on the floor of the tent. "Plas-
tisteel, I bet. We won't be diggin' our way out."

"No, we're here to stay," Vorgens admitted, "for
awhile,"

The last shafts of sunlight were disappearing behind
the forest at the edge of the meadow when a Komani
youth arrived at the entrance with a tray of food. The
youngster hesitated momentarily at the doorway, then
walked in, very stiff and grave, placed the tray on the
bare table, and half-ran out of the tent.

"Guess he thought we'd eat him," Mclntyre said.

It was a good-enough meal, although less than would
satisfy the Terrans' appetites. By the time they finished
eating it was dark. The night-long twilight of Shinar was
broken only by the ceremonial campfires that dotted the
camp.

Mclntyre rose from his cross-legged squat at the table,
stretched as well as he could with his bandaged arm,
and said, "I'm gonna grab some sack time. With your
permission, sir."

"It's not my permission that counts," Vorgens
murmured.

"Sir?"

"Nothing, sergeant. Go on, have a good sleep. We can
skip the formalities for the time being."

"Okay, sir. If you want me, just holler."

With a nod of his head, Mclntyre made it clear to
Giradaux that he should sleep, too.

Vorgens left them alone and stepped out to the doorr
way of the tent. He could sense the Komani guards
tighten a fraction as he appeared in the flickering fire-
light. He stopped just outside the doorway. The guards
said nothing.

Vorgens stood there looking out across the bizarre
camp, etched in fireiight. A chilling night breeze moaned
by, and then, mixed with it, came a low, plaintive chant
from somewhere near the center of the meadow.

He listened as the slow, melancholy sound of women's
voices drifted through the night. A funeral dirge, he real-
ized finally. A dirge for the men who were killed today.
For the men we killed today

The Star Watchman remained motionless as he lis-
tened to the weird, haunting music. But his mind was
churning endlessly and again he saw the charging
Komani warriors, heard the shouted orders, the blasts of
weapons, the screams of men in battle. Now he realized
that these warriorsthese menwere also sons and
fathers who feared death as much as anyone. What was
it the old priest had said? They have souls.

The dirge ended at last, and one of the campfires
suddenly blazed into a huge pyre. Vorgens watched as
the flames soared skyward and then, slowly, slowly, died
down into nothingness- After the funeral pyre had faded
completely, Vorgens found himself looking up at the stars
overhead. The airglow and the glare of the campfires
made it impossible to see any but the nearest, brightest
stars. Vorgens knew that the Pleiades were too far away
to be seen, and then he realized, with a sudden shock,
that he did not even know just where in the skies of
Shinar they would appear.

"Can you see your home star?"

Vorgens turned to find Sittas standing beside him.
"No," he answered. "I don't even know where to look
for it."

"Are your men comfortable?"

"They've eaten and now they're asleep."

Sittas nodded. "Would you like to talk? I have many
questions on my mind. Or perhaps you are tired from
today'sevents."

"No, I couldn't sleep if I tried. I have some questions,
too."

"Good, we can talk." The old priest turned to the
guards and said a few words to them in their own lan-
guage, then led Vorgens away from the tent.

"I find that walking stimulates my conversation," Sittas
said. "Walking and conversation are the only vices left to
one of my age."

Vorgens studied the old man's face in the flickering
firelight. On another world, at another time, Sittas might
have been a teacher, or a physician, or even a planetary
governor. His face had the natural dignity, the touch of
good humor at the comers of the mouth, the impression
of wisdom in the silver hair and wrinkled brow. But deep
in his eyes was a sadness bom of many years and long
experience of the failure of man's grandest dreams.

"I was surprised," Vorgens said finally, "to see so many
Shinarians in camp."

Sittas said nothing.

"I had thought. .. that is, Terran intelligence believes,
that the Komani raiders have landed on your planet while
you are in rebellion against the Empiretaking advan-
tage of the confused situation to loot your people."

"There was some looting," Sittas agreed non-
committally.

"I don't understand."

Sittas stopped walking and looked up at the young
Watchman- "Perhaps it is not me you should speak with,
but Merdon."

"Who is Merdon?"

"A youthvery much like yourself. And yet, very
unlike you."

Vorgens shrugged. "All right, let's talk to Merdon."

Sittas led him through a maze of tents, and finally left
him standing in front of one of the smaller bubbles. After
a few minutes, the old priest reappeared at the doorway
and gestured Vorgens inside.

The tent was sparsely furnished with three cots, a
table, a pair of chests, a few stools, and a single globular
lamp overhead. Seated behind the table was Merdon,
poring over a big paper map and a pile of reports; a
miniature tri-di transceiver held down one comer of the
map, and a beam pistol rested on the opposite comer.

Merdon looked up as Sittas said, "This is the Star
Watchman I told you about."

"Vorgens is my name. The Terrans find it easier to
say Vorgens."

Merdon looked into the Watchman's tawny eyes and
smiled. "In this case, I find myself forced to agree with
the Terrans. I am Merdonin Terran as well as
Shinarian."

Merdon gestured to the stools before the table, and
Vorgens and Sittas sat down.

"Sittas tells me," Merdon said, "that you can't under-
stand why so many Shinarians are here in the Komani
encampment. The answer is simple: the Komani are here
in Shinar because we invited them here. They are our
guests, our allies. They are helping us to fight against
the Terrans."

Vorgens felt his breath catch in amazement. "You ...
incited the Komani? As mercenary troops?"

"As allies. Oh, I know what the Terran commanders
think. They believe that we on Shinar are acting as unwit-
ting pawns for some deep, dark Komani plan of conquest.
The truth is exactly the opposite. The Komani are work-
ing for us."

"Why?"

Merdon snapped, "Why? Why do you think? Because
we want to be rid of the Terrans and their blasted
Empire!"

"But why should the Komani help you? What do they
gain by going against the Empire?"

Merdon's brows knitted thoughtfully for a moment.
Then he replied, "The Komani are bom fighters. The
smell of battle, a chance of lootthat's all they want,"

"You make it sound very simple," Vorgens said quietly.

"No, it's the Terrans who oversimplify everything.
They think that because our culture is a peaceful, agricul-
tural society that we are a simple, stupid people. That is
a mistake. We are as complex in our desires, in our fears,
in our loves and hates, as any Terranor any other
human."

"All right," Vorgens agreed, "but what's that got to do
with"

"Your Terran officials think that we Shinarians are all
sheep. Well, perhaps many of us are. But not all of us."

"So you decided to resist the Empire."

"A few of us did, yes. Some tried to resist with words,
with protests, with street demonstrations. The Ten-ans"
answer was force. Well, now we are meeting force with
force. We will fight and die and fight again until the
Terrans are no longer willing to pay the price for Shinar.
Until they leave us in freedom."

"And the Komani are helping you in this struggle."

"The Komaniand any other recruits we can find,"
Merdon said, looking straight at Vorgens.

"Any other recruits?"' the Watchman echoed.

Merdon leaned across the table. "You are not a Terran.
Sittas tells me that your own people fought against the
Empire. Join us! Help us to free Shinar! Perhaps some-
day we can destroy this evil Empire altogether, and free
your own people."

Vorgens blinked, and turned toward Sittas. The priest
shrugged his bony shoulders to indicate that the idea was
Merdon's alone-

"I am not a native Terran, that is true," Vorgens said,
"but I am a citizen of the Empire- My people did fight
against the Terrans, once, a long time ago. But today
they are so much a part of the Empire that they could
not establish an independent nation if they wanted to
which they don't. I am a sworn officer of the Star Watch.
I cannot turn my back on my own word, and fight against
the men with whom I have served."

"You hide behind your duty," Merdon snapped.

Vorgens' face tightened. "Perhaps so. But listen to me.
No matter what the Empire has done on Shinar, the
peoples ruled by the Terrans would be plunged into
chaos and starvation if the Empire were destroyed. The
Terrans may seem evil and arbitrary to youperhaps
they are, in many casesbut they are also the carriers
of law, of stability, of commerce and order, throughout
more than half the galaxy. Their job is not an easy one.
Here on Shinar they may have failed, but you cannot
destroy the Empire unless you replace it with something
better .. . not unless you are an unthinking barbarian, as
the Komani are."

"You are a Terran, after all," Merdon growled.

"I am an officer of the Star Watch," Vorgens said, his
voice rising. "I was sent to Shinar to try to arrange a
truce that will end this bloodshed. I can offer you the
same terms I offer the Komani: lay down yours arms and
return to your homes. Otherwise the Empire will be
forced to crush you."

"Get out!" Merdon shouted. "Take your truce terms
and go back to your tent and wait for the Komani to
deal with you. Star Watchman, truce-beareryou're a
prisoner, a Komani prisoner, and before long you'll be
dead!"

Vorgens rose and strode from the tent. Sittas hurried
out after him.

"He had no excuse for speaking to you like that," the
priest said. "I am ashamed for him."

"He lost his temper," Vorgens said, calmer now in the
open air. "I know I lost mine. We see the world through
different eyes.... And he's right, you know. I am a pris-
oner. I'm not in a position to offer anyone anything."

"Still, Merdon's behavior was inexcusable."

"He just doesn't understand the reason for the
Empire."

"I must confess." Sittas said softly, "that I, myself, do
not see why the Empire must have this particular planet,
when there are so many . .."

Vorgens thought it over for a moment, then answered,
"I suppose the answer is that, if Shinar were allowed to
quit the Empire, others would want to leave it, also. It's
the first step on the road to chaos.

"The Terrans didn't want an Empire. No one planned
it this way. At one moment, the Terran Confederation
was fighting for its life against the Masters. A moment
later, the Masters were utterly defeated, and their empire
fell to the Terrans. Suddenly the Terrans found them-
selves responsible for administering, feeding, governing,
half the galaxy. They tried to get various star systems to
govern themselves, but it didn't work out. The Empire
was needed. The Terrans had no choice."

"Regardless of the cost," Sittas said.

"The cost?"

"Yes. In maintaining the Empire of the Masters and
making it their own, the Terrans have obliterated the
individual cultures of their member planets. Their effort
to turn Shinar into a Terran-type food-manufacturing
world has touched off this war. You, yourself, told me
how your native culture has been submerged by the
Terrans."

Vorgens nodded. "That's right. My people are almost
exactly like all the other people in the Empire. The old
customs, the old beliefsthey're only for teachers of
ancient history, or museum keepers. II suppose it was
inevitable. Unavoidable."

"Was it?" Sittas asked.

"Yes," Vorgens replied. "There are reasons . -."

"Reasons?"

Vorgens looked at the old priest for a long moment.
Then he began to explain to him what every servant of
the Empire was expressly forbidden to tell a native.

He told Sittas of the Terrans' gradual realization that,
a million years earlier, a race of Terrans had reached
into space, met a powerful alien race, and been smashed
in a devastating war. He told the priest of the discovery
of the ruins on Mars, of the machinery that had produced
the Ice Ages that was found on Titan, of the remnants
of the crumbled First Empire that the Terrans had found
as they expanded into the stars once again.

"They are building their new Empire as solidly as they
can," Vorgens finished, "because they know that some-
where among the starsperhaps in another galaxy,
eventhe Others still exist. They nearly exterminated
the Terrans once, a million years ago. The Terrans are
building an Empire that can exterminate the Others, if
they show up again."

"And for this reason Shinar must become a cog in
their Imperial machine?"

Vorgens nodded.

"Are we not men? Would we not help to fight the
Others?"

"I know," the Star Watchman said. "My own people
would, too. They wouldn't have to be regimented by the
Terrans. But now my homeworld is a planet of mines
and factories. There are ten times more people there
than we could possibly feed with our own resources. If,
for some reason, the Empire should break down, nine
people of every ten would starve."

"Yet you fight for the Terrans."

Vorgens shrugged. "I fight for what I believe. The
Empire is not the best way, but it's the only way we
have. Its laws are just. I know that what's happening to
your planet is hard to accept, but there is no alternative.
I don't like to fight against your people, but your people
started the fighting."

Sittas agreed with a nod. "Yet, who is without blame
in a war?"

"It's no longer a matter of blame," Vorgens said. "Now
we must decide where we go from here."

They found themselves back at Vorgens' tent, with its
quadruple guard.

"You have answered my questions quite frankly," Sittas
said, "for which I thank you. Now tell me, what questions
can I answer for you?"

Vorgens immediately asked, "How many Komani war-
riors are on Shinar?"

"I don't really know," the priest said. "An entire clan
has landed here, as you can see. I suppose there must
be something like fifteen thousand fighting men."

"An entire clan." Vorgens repeated. "And who is their
chief?"

"Okatar Kang."

"Could you arrange an audience with him for me?
Tomorrow, as early as possible?"

Sittas shook his head. "That I cannot do. The Kang
does not usually see prisoners, unless they are remark-
able in some respecta general, or a renowned warrior.
I have no influence whatsoever over Okatar and his
Elders. Merdon might have arranged such a meeting,
but .. ." Sittas's voice trailed off.

"I see," Vorgens said. "Well, thank you anyway. I'm
sony the meeting with Merdon wasn't more fruitful."

Sittas nodded silently.

"Good night,'" Vorgens said.

"Good fortune to you. my friend."

Vorgens watched the old man disappear among the
tents, and slowly realized that it was the first time since
he had left the Star Watch Academy that someone had
called him "friend."

Inside the tent, he found Mclntyre and Giradaux
awake, talking quietly while squatting as far from the
entranceand the guardsas they could.

Vorgens told them what he had learned from Sittas.

"So it seems that we are facing not just the Komani,"
he concluded, "but a well-armed and very determined
band of rebels, as well."

"It's a dirty business," Mclntyre grumbled. "Fighting
these barbarians is bad enough, but half the planet might
be up in arms against us."

Vorgens nodded. "Under any circumstances, it means
that the forces holding down the Mobile Force could be
two or even three times larger than Brigadier Aikens
believes them to be."

"We've gotta get back to the Force tonight," Mclntyre
said, "and let them know what they're up against."

"Right," Vorgens said.

"The Sarge and I were talking over our chances of
breaking outta here," Giradaux said-

"And?"

Mclntyre answered, "There's four guards against the
three of us. They're armed. Gerry was frisked good when
they captured him. He's clean. I managed to sneak a
stinger under my belt before they took us." He pulled
out a slim rod. "It won't kill anybody, but it'll put him
outta commission for a few hours."

Vorgens grinned. "Good. And I fixed that cast of yours
so that it ought to be as hard as plastistee! by now."

Mclntyre looked surprised. He tapped the cast on the
floor. It sounded good. He ran a hand over the innocent-
looking bandages. "By Pluto, this'U break any bone in
the galaxy- Did you bring anything from the cruiser, sir?"

"Just something from the medical kit. It's not a
weapon, but it could be just as'important to us."

He pulled a small bottle of pills from his jacket pocket.
"These are mescal capsules," Vorgens explained, opening
the bottle and handing them out. "They speed up your
perceptions, temporarily, so that everything around you
seems to be moving very slowly. If we're going to depend
on surprise, it might be useful to be able to see the
enemy's reactions in slow motion. It would give you time
to think about your next movein the middle of a hand-
to-hand fight!"

Mclntyre popped a capsule into his mouth, swallowed
hard, then grinned. "I'm glad we've got a Star Watchman
with us, sir. Us poor footsloggers wouldn't think to look
for weapons in the infirmary."

"Coming from you, sergeant, that's a real compliment."

They discussed tactics for a few minutes, while
allowing the mescal to take effect. As a test, Vorgens
took Mclntyre's stinger and dropped it to the floor. It
floated down like a feather and bounced lazily for what
seemed like several minutes. They were ready.

Their plan was simple, based on speed and surprise.

Giradaux was lead man. He came bombing out of the
tent at top speed, diving straight into one of the guards.
The big Komani, half asleep, toppled over and Giradaux
started to spin free of him. As the other three guards
turned to face the Terran, drawing their weapons, Vor-
gens and Mclntyre entered the fight.

It all seemed like a dream to Vorgens, under the effect
of the mescal. Every move they madefriend and foe
alikehad that underwater languor about it. He saw the
Komani drawing their sidearms, saw Gerry slowly rising
to his feet.

Then the nearest Komani began to rum toward him.
Vorgens raised the stinger (it seemed an eternity to lift
it) and touched it to the warrior's chest. He froze for an
instant, then began slumping toward the ground.

Vorgens turned to see Mclntyre swinging his arm-cast
into the face of a startled Komani. Another was already
on the way down, his head split and bleeding. Giradaux
chopped artfully at the neck of the warrior he had top-
pled, and the fight was abruptly finished. Vorgens'
stunned victim finally hit the ground, as if to punctuate
the end of it.

They took the Komani sidearms and made a cautious
retreat to the edge of the camp. It was late, and the
camp was quiet. No one seemed to be stirring.

Vorgens whispered an order to set the captured hand-
guns to stun, rather than on killing power. Mclntyre
grumbled something about "fighting tomorrow the ene-
mies we don't kill tonight," but a quick glance at the
Star Watchman showed that he was not going to argue
the point.

Their first trouble came at the outer guard perimeter.

A Komani warrior spotted them and let out a warning
yelp before Mclntyre's shot knocked him unconscious.

Then it was an agonizing race in slow motion for the
edge of the meadow. Beacon flares began to pop around
them, and although Vorgens knew that the three of them
were dashing for the thick foliage at the meadow's edge,
the mescal made it seem as though they were suspended
in mid-flight while the whole Komani camp had plenty
of time to take leisurely aim at them,

"They ain't set to stunt" Mclntyre yelled as energy
beams sizzled past them.

They zigzagged the last few yards to the meadow's
edge and plunged down the steep slope, stumbling and
falling in me darkness. They made their way toward the
thick brush, where they would be safe from the
Komanitemporarily.

After a few minutes' thrashing through the foliage,
they found a gulley that led away from the camp. They
flopped down, bellies in the dirt, and gasped for breath.

"Everyone okay?" Vorgens asked.

Two grunts answered him. Through the foliage, he
could see lights swinging back and forth.

"Sergeant, can you find your way back to the Mobile
Force from here?"

"I dunk so, sir," Mclntyre said.

"Can you evade those guard posts we saw on the way
up here?"

"Yes sir."

They could hear shouts now, and the sounds of men
probing through the brush.

"All right, Sergeant," Vorgens said. "You and Giradaux
make a break for it. I'll scuttle off in another direction,
making enough noise for the Komani to spot me. I'll lead
them on as long as I can. You two make certain to get
back to Brigadier Aikens."

"But, sir ..."

"You tell Brigadier Aikenspersonallythat he's facing
a whole Komani clan, not just a few raiders, plus a large
number of native rebels. They've got modern weapons
of every type."

"Yes sir."

"All rightnow get going."

"Butthey're shootin' to kill. You can't ..."

"Sergeant, are you a soldier or a lawyer?"
Vorgens could sense Mclntyre's face going red. "Yes
sir.

"Now get moving. Don't worry about me. I've got
something else in mind. Good luck to you both."

"Luck to you, sir."

They scrambled off down the gulley. Vorgens waited
a moment, then headed across me gulley and up the
other side. Once there, he started diagonally away from
the spot where he had left Mclntyre and Giradaux,
toward the oncoming Komani.

As he scuttled through the foliage, he spotted three
Komani warriors groping cautiously through the twilight
haze. The effect of the mescai's worn off, he realized as
he stopped to watch them.

Vorgens edged carefully off to one side of the
approaching Komani, working his way to a position as far
as possible from the direction the Terrans had taken.
Another flare burst overhead, and in its sudden light
Vorgens saw another trio of warriors moving slowly
through the brush toward him. Now is the time, he said
to himself.

He fired at the first group of Komani, hit two of them
and left the third to scream for aid. Then he swung
around and fired quickly at the other trio. He dropped
one of them and got a sizzling blast by his ear in return.

Ducking into the deeper brush as the flare petered
out, Vorgens crawled farther away from the Komani
searchers, always leading themhe hopedaway from
the escaping Terrans.

Twice more flares bloomed overhead, and twice Vorgens
stopped to hit-and-run, making certain that the Komani
knew from which direction he was firing.

Then for a long stretch there was dark silence. Vorgens
squatted in the foliage and waited, straining his senses
for some hint of what they were doing. He began to
realize how a mouse might feel, if a pack of cats were
quietly stalking it.

I wonder if they have infrared snoopers? Then they
wouldn't need flares. His answer was a sudden, searing
flash, and a long, long fall into oblivion.



VI

Okatar


The darkness lifted slowly, and Vorgens gradually became
aware that he was lying in a cot. There was no pain, no
feeling whatsoever. He was aware that his eyes were
open, but he was unable to focus them. The world was
a gray blur. He tried to move, but found he could not.
The effort was too great. He lapsed back into
unconsciousness.

He awoke again. This time he could see. Things were
still blurry, smeared at the edges, but he could see.

A girl was sitting by his cot, watching him, completely
unaware that he was conscious and his eyes could func-
tion again. Her face was a curious mixture of anxiety and
interest, as though she were looking into a mirror to find
some flaw in herself. She was young and slim, with jet-
black hair falling to her shoulders and wide, dark eyes.

Gradually, the girl's image became indistinct, and his
head began throbbing painfully. Vorgens found himself
supping back into darkness again.

Then he heard voices. There were two of them, speak-
ing a language he either did not understand or could not
grasp through the ache in his head. Slowly his eyes
focused on the glowing roof of the Komani bubble-tent.
Vorgens found that he could turn his head slightly. He
saw Sittas, deep in conversation with the Shinarian girl,
who was standing now near the entrance to the tent-
They were speaking something close to the Shinarian
language he had been taught, Vorgens finally realized,
probably an up-country dialect.

Vorgens closed his eyes, momentarily, he thought, but
when he opened them again, the girl was gone and Sittas
was standing alone by his cot.

"What time is it?" the Star Watchman asked.

The priest smiled. "Past midday. You have been
unconscious all night and morning."

"What are you grinning at?"

"Your Terran training. Only a Terran would awake
from many hours of unconsciousness and ask what time
of day it is."

Vorgens propped himself up on an elbow. "Time is
getting to be important ..."

"How do you feel?" the priest asked.

"Not bad. My head hurts a bit. How seriously was I
hit?"

"You took a strong bolt from a sonic gun. I have no
way of knowing how seriously the shock might have
affected your nervous system."

"There's one way to find out," Vorgens said. He
pushed himself up to a sitting position, and with Sittas'
help got to his feet. "A little wobbly," he said, walking
slowly across the tent with die old man at his elbow,
"but I think I'm all right."

"You should try to eat," the priest said, gesturing to a
tray of food on the small table in the middle of the tent.

Vorgens nodded. "How about the other two? Did they
gpt away safely?"

Tes," Sittas answered. He hesitated for a moment,
then said, "Perhaps it is not proper for me to ask, but I
do not understand how they escaped successfully and you
did not."

Vorgens sat down on a stool, next to the table.

"I didn't want to escape," the Watchman said.

Sittas' mouth formed an unspoken why?

"It was necessary for someone to get back to the
Mobile Force and warn Brigadier Aikens of the odds
he's facing," Vorgens explained. "Mclntyre can do that.
Giradaux is better off with the sergeant than here. But
I have a mission to carry outa mission that calls for
me to see Okatar Kang. You said he would not see an
ordinary officer, only someone of high rank or great
righting ability."

"That is true."

"Please tell him, then," Vorgens said, "that the Star
Watchman who engineered the escape of the two prison-
ers last night from under his nose has a message for him
from the Commander-in-Chief of the Terran Imperial
Star Watch."

Sittas' weathered old face slowly unfolded into a broad
grin. "It might work."

The priest left to try to reach Okatar and arrange a
meeting. Vorgens sat alone at the tiny table and nibbled
on some of me meat and fruit from the tray.

He smiled wryly at the irony of the situation: Brigadier
Aikens tries to prevent me from negotiating with the
Komani. and his very orders bring me almost face-to-face
with the Komani chieftain.

After a few minutes the Watchman got up and
returned to his cot. The ache in his head was nearly
gone, and the food had refreshed him. He stretched out
on the cot, not to rest, but to think.

Vorgens tried to push every unwanted thought out of
his mind, to reach back to his classes at the Academy,
to remember what he had been taught about the
Komani. He pictured in his mind the stereocast lecture
he had sat through.

"A nation of warriors, consisting of nomadic clans that
fight each other almost as often as they raid their neigh-
bors. Their culture is feudal, their energies directed
toward battle and loot. Komani warriors are disdainful of
civilized values..,."

Yet through it all Vorgens heard in the back of his
mind the keening funeral dirge of the women; the sol-
emn, frightened-yet-brave face of the youth who had
brought them food the night before; the calm, firm insis-
tence of Sittas that despite politics and wars, the Komani
had souls.

How to appeal to them? That was the question. How
to present the Star Watch's demands in a way that they
could understand and accept? Vorgens thought about it,
and tried to frame the words he would use with Okatar.

At length, Sittas returned to the tent. He stood silently
at the entrance for several minutes before the Watchman
noticed him there.

"Well?"

The old priest looked into Vorgens' eyes- "You asked
me to arrange a meeting with Okatar Kang."

"That's right."

"He wants to see you immediately."

Vorgens jumped to his feet. "Good!"

"No, my friend, not good," Sittas murmured slowly.
"He wishes to see you merely to pronounce a death sen-
tence over you."

Vorgens was escorted to Okatar Kang's huge golden
bubble-tent by a half-dozen warriors. Sittas walked at his
side as they tramped through the encampment. The sun
was high, the sides cloudless. The Watchman could not
help but notice that there was much more bustle and
activity in the Komani camp than there had been the
previous afternoon.

They're pulling in their men from aS. over the planet,
Vorgens said to himself. They're getting ready for a major
attack on the Mobile Force.

He had expected the Kang's tent to be crowded with
people, but instead it was nearly empty. A small group
of Komani and Shinarians were sitting at a low-slung
table off to one side of the tent. The guards marched
Vorgens to the middle of the tent, then turned to face
the table, Sittas remained just inside the doorway.

Vorgens guessed that the second Komani from the
right was Okatar. He was no bigger or more impressive
physically than the rest, but his head was held a trifle
higher, his back was a shade stiffer, and his yellow cat's
eyes gave an impression of unquestioned authority.
Komani faces gave Vorgens a feeling of fierceness. He
almost expected them to have saber-like fangs jutting
from their lips.

Vorgens recognized Merdon among the Shinarians.
The young rebel was going over a long list with Okatar
while the others at the table listened in silence. For sev-
eral minutes, Vorgens and his six guards stood in the
middle of the tent, while Okatar carefully ignored them.

Finally he put the list down on the table and turned
to face Vorgens.

"I am Okatar Kang," he said, in standard Terran, "and
you are the Terran prisoner who tried to escape last
night. Prisoners who spurn our hospitality are tradition-
ally executed. Therefore ..."

"Before you go any farther . . ." Vorgens began.

"Silence!" roared one of the Komani nobles.

Okatar glanced at the roarer, then returned to Vor-
gens. "Pleas for mercy will not avail you."

"I am not pleading for mercy," Vorgens said, "and I
did not try to escape from your camp last night. If I had
wanted to escape, I could have done so easily with my
two fellow prisoners."

"You aided their escape," said another Komani noble,
"so the death penalty still holds."

Sittas interrupted. "He is not a true Terran," the old
priest said, walking up from the doorway toward the
table, "and has never been in contact with the Komani
before. Your customs and laws are probably strange to
him ..."

Vorgens disagreed. "I am familiar with your customs.
I helped the two Terrans escape because I knew they
would be put to death ultimately by you. Which of you
would have done less for his own men?"

Okatar gave a grunt of grudging approval. "And why
did you not escape with them?"

"Because I have come to this planet to see you, Oka-
tar. I have been sent by the Star Watch to offer you
peace."

"You were taken prisoner in a skirmish that cost us a
score of lives," one of the Komani countered. "You were
fighting from within an armored cruiser. What kind of
peace offer is that?"

"My mission to this planet is to discuss a truce with
you," Vorgens insisted, talking straight to the Kang. "Last
night, we could have killed many more of your men.
Instead we merely stunned them. I am not here to kill,
but to save lives."

Okatar glanced at Merdon, then, smiling grimly, said,
"I have heard of the peace offer you made to the Shin-
arian fighters. Do you presume to offer the same terms
to the clan of Okatar?"

"If you leave Shinar at once and return to your
homeworid without further bloodshed," Vorgens said,
"the Star Watch will take no punitive action against you."

"And if we do not leave Shinar immediately?"

"You will be destroyed by the forces of the Terran
Empire."

Dead silence filled the room for a moment, Vorgens
added, "The Empire has half a galaxy of resources to pit
against you ... powerful armies and fleets. You cannot
hope to overcome them all."

"No, not by ourselves," Okatar said quietly.
"I have also been instructed to inform you that the
other Komani clan chiefs have sworn to the Empire that
they will remain loyal and will not assist you, regardless
of what you do."

The slightest trace of a smile flickered across Okatar's
grim face.

"I see," he replied. "Our choice is to return meekly
home, or suffer complete destruction. Now then, about
this destruction, where are the Imperial forces that will
accomplish this mighty victory? Your Mobile Force is
trapped and living on borrowed time. Your vaunted Star
Watch fleets are nowhere near Shinar, and cannot get
here within a month, at least."

How does he know that? Vorgens wondered.

The Kang continued, "Your mighty Empire has no mil-
itary arm that can withstand the Komani peoples. One
small clan of us has humbled your Mobile Force and
planetary garrison. By this time tomorrow the word will
be spreading through the galaxy that the Komani are on
the march. Shinar is the beginning. The other clans will
join us. In fact," Okatar leaned forward and lowered his
voice, conspiratorially, "how can you be sure that dQ, the
warriors on Shinar are really members of my clan?"

Vorgens felt as though he had been shot again. Slowly,
he answered, '"What you are saying is that you propose
to cause a galactic war between the Komani clans and
'the Terran Empire. You cannot win such a war. The
Empire has resources that will crush you; it will only be
a matter of timeand lives."

Okatar waved down the Star Watchman. "No, my
naive Terran. Not at all. Your Empire is crumbling
already. If you had the strength to crush us, you would
do it now, here, on this planet. Instead you send a small
Mobile Force that will be extinguished in another day,

"The people of Shinar do not want your Empire. The
people of me galaxy have learned to hate the Terrans.
How do you think the Terrans gained control of their
Empire? By taking it from the Masters. Now the Komani
will take it from the Terrans. For too long now the
Komani have fought each other, while the Terrans gained
strength from our weakness. But that time is drawing to
a close. When the other Komani clans see that the Ter-
rans can be humbled in battle, they will join the clan of
Okatar. Your Empire is ripe for picking."

"You are going to plunge the galaxy into hell all over
again," Vorgens said, "and you will not live to see the
end of the chaos you cause."

"Perhaps," the Kang retorted, "but certainly you will
not live to see even the beginning. Unfortunately, we do
not have the time to enjoy the ceremonial execution that
bearers of ultimatums are traditionally given. Therefore,
you shall be shot, before the sun sets."

With that, Okatar nodded to the guards. One of them
seized Vorgens' arm and turned him around. They
marched out of the tent.

Vorgens walked blindly, numbly, seeing nothing and
hearing nothing, his mind in a dizzying whirl that pulled
in tighter and tighter on itself.

The Komani aren't interested in a peaceful settlement.
They want only war. Aikens was right. He was right!
This battle, here on this minor planet, is only the opening
skirmish in a war that will engulf the whole galaxy. The
Empire is in danger. Humankind is in danger. If the
Empire crumbles, nine people out of every ten will starve.
If the Komani have their way. the whole fabric of civiliza-
tion will be destroyed.

They want to destroy, to kill. They want to kill me. I
will be executed. Shot. Killed. Dead.



VII

Altai


Merdon sat at the low-slung table, feeling slightly uncom-
fortable in the overlarge Komani chair, and watched Vor-
gens walk numbly out of the tent, escorted by the six
guards. Sittas remained at the doorway for a moment,
and Merdon's eyes met the old priest's and held there.
Sittas' face was expressionless, but Merdon knew what
was in his mind.

The Shinarian youth turned away and glanced at
Romal and his other lieutenants, sitting at the table with
him. When he looked back at the doorway, Sittas had
gone.

"To return to these tallies of weapons ..." Okatar said.
Merdon focused his attention on the Kang. "One
moment, I have never heard you talk before about this
plan for conquering the entire Terran Empire. I would
like to hear exactly how you propose to do it, and how
your plans affect Shinar."

Okatar smiled. "In a few daysa few weeks, at most
the Komani will have left Shinar. The Terrans will be
wiped out, and before they can bring more troops to
your planet, we will have struck somewhere else, closer
to the heart of their Empire. When we leave you, Shinar
will be free of the Terrans for all time. never fear."

Merdon said, "But you are using Shinar as a stepping-
stone in your plans against the Empire."

"Of course. What of it? We wiu free Shinar of the
Terrans. Our motives are inconsequential."

"But do you really believe that you can defeat the
Empire? With all their resources and manpower, the
Terrans ..."

Okatar's smile vanished. "The resources and man-
power of the Terrans come from worlds like your own.
They are stolen from peoples who will gladly rise up
against the Terrans, as they rose against the Masters a
century ago- All they need is a leader, and an army to
join. The Komani will be that army, and I will be that
leader."

"After you've defeated the Empire, what then? Will
the Komani become the new masters of the galaxy?"

"In a sense, yes. But we will not become like the
Terrans. We are fighters, not governors. The Komani will
live on tribute, freely given by the peoples we liberate
from the Terrans. We shall leave all peoples in peace,
and tight against only those who work for the Terrans,
or who oppose us."

Merdon nodded. "I see." But in his mind he saw his
father's worried face, and heard his words of warning.

"Now then," Okatar resumed, "about these tallies of
weapons. I had assumed that there would be more weap-
ons available. This list seems too short."

Merdon could sense Romal, sitting next to him, tense
at the Komani's question. He answered calmly:

"My quartermaster has prepared very accurate tallies.
Remember that we took those weapons from small garri-
son posts among the outlying towns. The Terrans kept
most of their weapons in the major arsenals in the four
cities that they still hold."

Okatar nodded. "I understand that there are good-
sized arsenals in some of the smaller cities. The port of
Katan, for instance."

"There is an arsenal there, yes," Merdon agreed. "But
it is relatively small and nearly empty. Besides, Katan is
a long distance from here. We could never get the weap-
ons from the arsenal to our troops in time for tomorrow
morning's attack on the Mobile Force."

"Sound logic," Okatar said. "In any event, we have
more than enough weapons for tomorrow's attack." His
lips parted in a smile, but his yellow eyes were cold.

"I have the latest information about food deliveries,"
Romal said, changing the subject- His voice, always high-
pitched, nearly cracked from nervousness.

They discussed the questions of provisions and other
logistics problems for another hour. Neither Okatar nor
Merdon mentioned the weapons again, or the arsenal in
Katan. But both knew that the other was thinking hard
about the matter,

When Merdon finally left Okatar's tent, he started
back toward his own quarters, with his four top lieuten-
ants accompanying him. As they made their way through
die Komani bubble-tents, Altai came up and joined them.

"My uncle would like to speak with you," she said,
striding along beside Merdon,

"It will have to wait. There are other things to do."

She looked up at him. "I heard that Okatar made a
speech."

Merdon grinned humorlessly. "Several of them. He
announced his plans for crushing the Empire, told us
that he will expect us to support nim by paying his clan
tribute, and showed quite a bit of suspicion about the
weapons tallies."

"He knows that we're keeping back some weapons?"

"He suspects."

"What are you going to do?" Altai asked.

"I'm going to hold a conference with my four best
men, and we'll decide on what to do."

"A conference? In your tent?"

"No," Merdon said, shaking his head. "Right out here,
in the open. We're going to stroll around the camp and
talk. I don't want to go to the tent ... too much of a
chance that a microphone might be hidden there."

Altai nodded in agreement. "All right. I'll wait for you
at your tent."

"No. Stay with us. We might look a little less as though
we're plotting something if there's a girl with us."

"A girl?" Altai repeated. "Just any old girl? Just some-
one to make the Komani think you couldn't possibly be
talking about anything serious?"

"Now don't be silly," Merdon said, taking her hand in
his. "Of all the girls on the planet of Shinar, there is
none that I would rather have standing here beside me,
dazzling the Komani with her radiant beauty, more than
you. There, are you happy now?"

Altai shrugged noncommittally. "May I join the discus-
sion, or must I merely listen?"

Merdon glanced at the other four. They were grinning
broadly.

"You may speak," he said, "if you have something seri-
ous to say. This is a serious matter."

"Yes I know," Altai countered. "But it's good to see
you all smiling again. You looked so solemn a minute
ago."

"For good reason," Merdon said.

"Okatar Kang thinks that the Komani can conquer the
whole Terran Empire. Shinar is just the first step in his
plan," Romal said, his voice squeaking in excitement.

"We face the prospect," Merdon said calmly, "of hav-
ing the Komani as overlords after the Terrans have been
driven away."

Altai shuddered involuntarily. "They wouldn't even try
to govern us. They would take whatever they wanted by
force."

The others murmured agreement.

"Don't be so sure," Merdon argued. "If the Komani
are going to tackle the whole Terran Empire, they won't
want to be bothered by uprisings in their rear. If they
act belligerently toward us, we can fight. Okatar knows
that."

"Yes, and he knows his warriors can whip us," said
Tarat, the lanky son of a fanner, who now served as
Merdon's chief tactician. "Our men are willing fighters,
butI hate to admit itwe're just not strong enough or
experienced enough to stop the Komani."

"The Komani could whip us," Merdon agreed. "But
not if they were fighting the Terrans at the same time."

"You're walking out on a slender branch," Tarat said.

"Without a safety field to catch you if you slip," Altai
added-

Merdon stopped walking and looked at them. They
had reached the edge of the encampment, and were near
a clump of tall trees. Beyond the grove shimmered the
barely visible energy screen that protected the camp
from missiles and force beams.

"Let's consider the basic things first," Merdon said.
"Are we agreed that we want to be rid of the Terrans?"

"Not if it means living under the Komani," Romal said
stubbornly.

"Of course not," Merdon said. "But if we can be free,
should we fight for freedom, or remain under the
Empire?"

"Freedom!" snapped Tarat. "Freedom or death. We've
come too far to turn back now."

"Right," Merdon agreed. "Even if we wanted to return
to the Empire, the Terrans would never trust us again.
We would all end up in exile, or worse."

"No," Altai said, "Uncle Sittas said that the Terran
Watchman ..."

Merdon's scowl silenced her. "The Watchman brought
us an ultimatumstop fighting or be wiped out by the
Imperial troops. He never said what would happen after
we stopped fighting. You can guess at what the Terrans
would do."

Altai stared at the rebel leader, her face set in a per-
plexed frown.

Merdon went on, as they resumed walking, "At the
moment, the Komani have the same aim that we doto
drive the Terrans off Shinar. Good. We can work
together toward that goal."

"And afterward?" Romal piped.

"Afterward, the Komani will want to attack another
planet of the Empire. Again good. We will help them.
We will provide them with all the food we can gather.
We will give them ships, and clothing, and any equip-
ment we have."

"Weapons?"

"We will give them weapons, too. Half of all the weap-
ons taken from the arsenals at the four major cities. The
other half we will keep. All the other weapons we are
now holding on toincluding the arsenal in Katanwe
shall keep."

"And if Okatar finds out?" Altai asked softly.

"It will be no secret. We will tell him that we are
keeping these weapons in case we are attacked. We have
a right to defend ourselves, if we are free."

Tarat grunted in sudden understanding. "Woof. You'll
be telling Okatar that if he tries to take anything else
from Shinar, we'll fight him."

"That's right," Merdon said. "We'll be perfectly willing
to have him fight the Terrans elsewhere, and leave Shinar
in peace."

"You're gambling," Tarat said, "that Okatar will prefer
to fight the Terrans rather than us."

"He'll have more to gain fighting the Empire. There's
no profitand no glory for himin staying here and
crushing us."

The four lieutenants muttered among themselves.

"I know this is a hard decision to make," Merdon said.
"We're running a terrible risk. If things don't work out
well, we'll see our world turned into a blood-soaked
shambles. We will be killed, no doubt. But if we're smart
enough, and strong enough ... we can achieve freedom.
Is it worth the risk or not?"

"It is!" Tarat said.

Romal nodded unhappily. "I guess there's no other
way."

The others agreed.

Altai remained silent. But Merdon could read the
question in her eyes: Is there no other way? Is there
absolutely no other possible way?

In a small chamber within his main tent, Okatar Kang
watched the six young Shinarian rebels on a tabletop
viewscreen as they walked back from the trees at the
edge of the camp and returned to their own tents.

"The remote receptor picks up their every word, does
it not, my lord?" asked the Komani noble at his elbow.

"Indeed so," Okatar said. "My compliments to the
technicians."

"You have seen enough?"

Okatar nodded. "Yes. Quite enough."

The four lieutenants scattered to their private tents,
while Altai accompanied Merdon back to his own quar-
ters- Inside the plastic bubble, Sittas was sitting quietly,
his eyes closed. The old priest looked up as the two
youngsters entered.

"Were you sleeping or praying?" Merdon asked
jokingly.

"A little of both, I fear."

Merdon sat on a comer of the table and faced the
priest. Altai stood beside her uncle's chair.

"You want to talk to me about the Watchman."

Sittas nodded. "You must ask Okatar to pardon him.
Keep him a prisoner if you must, but a cold-blooded
execution ..."

Merdon held up three fingers. "First, Okatar would
not pardon a man he has sentenced to death. The
Komani aren't interested in clemency. Secondly, the
Watchman has killed Komani warriors, and can hardly
be treated as an innocent ambassador of goodwill.
Thirdly, if he got back to the Terrans he would end
up by killing our own people. So how can you ask
for mercy?"

"This Watchman is not an ordinary Terran," Sittas
began.

"I know," Merdon interrupted. "He's worse. He knows
the Terrans conquered his nation, and yet he fights for
the Terrans. He's an enemyby his own choice and his
own admission."

"A very unusual enemy," Sittas countered. "On the
whole planet of Shinar, this youth is the only one who
has mentioned the word peace in seriousness since the
rebellion began. I believe that he holds the key to peace
on Shinar."

"Peace under the Empire? Never. That would merely
be returning to the situation that caused the rebellion in
the first place."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Merdon," Altai said-

"It doesn't? Why not? Because we don't want things
to be that way? Because we dream of a world ruled by
our own people, without the Terrans or anyone else
standing on our necks? Well how is this wonderful world
going to come about? By prayer? By dreaming? By long-
ing for peace, at any price?"

Merdon pounded a fist onto his open palm. "We must
fight for freedom! The Terrans will not give us freedom
for the asking. The Komani will not leave us alone unless
we are strong enough to discourage them from attacking
us. Is peace worth slavery? Is life so precious that we
would place our worthless hides above freedom for our
people, above freedom for the generations that haven't
even been born? No. We will fight, and keep fighting,
until we have our freedom. Then peace will come, and
we will welcome it as men, not as spineless dogs."

Sittas smiled and nodded. "Fine oratory. It will sound
stirring in the history books, but I am not convinced that
unending warfare will bring peace to Shinaror free-
dom. This Star Watchman, Vorgens, might possibly turn
the trick for you. In the vast Terran Empire, there 'must
be officials who would be willing to listen to our cause,
and work out some solution satisfactory to all of us."

"No such Terran has ever taken an interest in Shinar.
I doubt that such a Terran exists."

"Perhaps the Watchman could help us to find the right
officials."

"The Watchman is a prisoner and sentenced to die,"
Merdon repeated doggedly. "Your dreams of finding
peace are nothing but wishful thinking- The Watchman
is only a junior officer. Do you think he could actually
command a truce here on Shinar? Do you think the
commander of the Imperial Marines takes orders from a
junior officer? The Watchman has no power, no author-
ity. His life is worthless."

The old priest slowly rose, trembling, from his chair.
"The strain of your duties has taken its toll on your good
sense, Merdon, and on your heart- Never in my life
would I have expected you to say what you did a moment
ago. A human lifeworthless? You had better examine
your conscience, my son. You are beginning to enjoy this
war too much."

Merdon started to reply, thought better of it, and sim-
ply sat there on the edge of the table, his eyes meeting
the priest's. Finally Sittas turned and silently walked out
of the tent.

"The old fool," Merdon grumbled- "He knows I didn't
mean it that way."

Altai asked, "How did you mean it?"

"Now don't you start arguing against me!"

She looked at Merdon's strong, stubborn face for a
moment, then turned her eyes away and said, "Merdon
many people have died since this fight began. My own
village has been nearly wiped out, first by the Terrans
and then by the Komani."

"That raid was a misunderstanding."

"Yes, I know. But many people were killed anyway.
Dozens of our classmates were killed in the fighting at
the university .,."

"I remember. And you fought by my side during those
early days."

"Early days," Altai mused. "A few weeks ago. It seems
like a lifetime has passed since then."

"A lifetime has passed," Merdon said. "None of us is
the same person he was before this began. We can never
go back to those days, Altai. Never."

"Merdon. Usten to me. Please. Don't let this Watch-
man be killed. I don't know why, but I can't just stand
back and allow a man to be executed. This war has
already killed many, many good people. But they were
killed in battle. Nownow you're going to let them come
in and shoot him. You can't let it happen!"

The young rebel shook his head. "Altai, it has to be
this way. There's no other way. He's a Komani prisoner,
not ours. We can't set him free. We can't help him
escape."

"You mean you won't try to help him."

"I can't."

She drew herself up to her full height. Merdon smiled
inwardly at her, trying to be as tall as a man.

"You can't help him," Altai said, "but there are others
who can."

Instantly, Merdon's amusement vanished. "What do
you mean by that?"

She started for the doorway. "You'll see."

"Altai! Don't do anything foolish. The Komani
wouldn't hesitate to shoot a girlor a priest."



VIII

Through the Flames


Vorgens sat in stunned silence in the tent to which the
guards had brought him. The Komani warriors loitered
outside while the young Star Watchman stared at the
blank wall of the tent.

The touch of a hand on his shoulder startled him. He
looked up and saw Sittas standing beside him.

"Have courage," the priest said quietly,

"Does it show? The fear?"

"Not much."

Vorgens ran a hand through his close-cropped hair.
"You heard what Okatar said. The other Komani clans
are in league with him. This is the beginning of a galaxy-
wide war."

Sittas shook his head. "Not necessarily. The other clans
may be giving him some aid, and no doubt they are
giving him considerable encouragement, but they will not
move in force until it becomes clear that the Empire is
too weak to stop them."

"If the Mobile Force is wiped out, that would be their
signal, wouldn't it?"

"It could be."

"They'll attack tomorrow morning, for certain," Vor-
gens said. "They've got more men and equipment than
Aikens dreams they have. If he stands and fights in that
valley, we'll lose Shinar and the whole Komani nation
will begin to march against the Empire."

But Sittas was no longer listening. He was standing at
the doorway of the tent, looking out. The late afternoon
sun slanting through the doorway touched his wispy hair
and gave him a modest halo.

Vorgens stood up. "Well, when is the firing squad
coming? Or do they like to let their victims dangle for a
few hours?"

"Death comes to us all, my friend," Sittas murmured,
still gazing intently outward.

"It's odd," Vorgens said, pacing across the tent floor, "I
never thought about how I would die. I've been aboard
starships that have run into troublereal trouble. And
yesterday, in battle, and last night, helping Mclntyre and
Giradaux to escape, I was frightened, all right, but the
thought of deathmy deathit just never entered my
mind. But now ... I never thought I would die before
a firing squadon a planet I didn't even know existed
until a few weeks ago."

"If we knew the time and place of the end of our
lives," Sittas said, glancing at the Watchman, "we would
hardly find life interesting enough to go through with it."

"That's not much help."

The old priest smiled. "Then perhaps your next visitor
will have better words for you."

Puzzled, Vorgens stepped over to the entrance of the
tent, where Sittas was still standing. Walking through the
Komani encampment toward them was a Shinarian girl.
Vorgens recognized her as the girl he had seen while he
was still half-unconscious after being shot.

"So she's not a dream," he muttered.

"Altai? She is my niece. We are from the same village.
She joined the rebel forces at the university, where she
met Merdon."

Vorgens frowned. "One of Merdon's rebels. So she
hates the Terrans, too. And me. Just as Okatar said they
all do."

"She is too young to hate," Sittas said.

They stepped back from the entryway as Altai walked
into the tent- The girl looked at Vorgens for a moment,
then turned to her uncle and nodded silently.

Sittas said, to no one in particular, "Let us pray for
guidance."

The old man stood a few paces from the entrance, and
began chanting. But his eyes were on Vorgens, and he
gestured with one hand, first pointing to his ear, then to
the guards outside.

Vorgens smiled in understanding. Altai pulled a low
bench up to the table in the middle of the room and sat
down. Vorgens sat next to her. She took a thin slip of
plastifilm and a stylus from the waistband of her slacks
and began drawing as Vorgens watched,

Altai sketched the tent they were in, and a dozen
nearby tents- In two of the circles she drew she wrote a
single word: ammunition. Then she put down a pair of
wavy lines, running parallel from Vorgens' tent outward
to the edge of the film. Within the lines she wrote safe
lane; outside the lines, on both sides, she wrote fire. She
looked up at Vorgens to see if he understood. Vorgens
nodded, and noticed that her eyes were as black and
deep as space itself.

While Sittas continued to chant, Altai gestured toward
the wall of the tent- Then she touched the stylus on the
word fire.

Vorgens shook his head and whispered, "Nonflamma-
ble. Will not bum."

Altai smiled and whispered back, "Thermal grenade.
It will bum."

Vorgens grinned at her. "How soon?"

"As quickly as possible," she answered, rolling up the
film and tucking it back into her waistband.

They stood up together. Altai was nearly Vorgens' own
height. Sittas finished his chant.

"I hope our prayers are answered," the priest said.

Vorgens watched the two of them leave the tent. He
stood at the entrance as the old man and the girl walked
slowly away and finally disappeared behind some of the
gaudy Komani bubble-tents.

The Watchman stepped back toward the middle of the
tent. Now it's a race to see who is ready first: Sittas and
his niece, or Okatars execution detail.

His answerseveral minutes laterwas a dull boom-
ing sound and the jarring smack of a concussion wave
that jolted everything in the tent. Another explosion, ear-
splitting, knocked Vorgens off his feet and toppled the
table next to him. A Komani warrior stuck his head
through the entrance as Vorgens was climbing to his feet.
Shouts and screams were mixing with a series of explo-
sions and the peculiar whoosh sound of huge sheets of
flame leaping slyward. Vorgens could hear men running
outside, and saw behind his guard's back the eery, nick-
ering light that could only be coming from a huge blaze.

The warrior ducked through the entryway and
motioned to Vorgens with a huge, pawlike hand.

"Out. Danger. Fire."

Vorgens stalled. "You mean you're worried about me?"

The Komani took another step toward Vorgens, and fin-
gered the pistol on his hip.

The whole far end of the tent suddenly dissolved into
flames. The Komani gave an involuntary shriek and leaped
for the entrance. Vorgens, without time to think about
it, dived straight into the burning plastic wall.

He jumped headfirst, as hard and as far as his legs
could catapult him. He landed, hands down on cool moist
grass, and somersaulted. Getting to his feet, Vorgens saw
that Altai's plan was working just as her sketch had
shown.

The dome of the tent behind him was engulfed in fire-
Flaming tents stretched off on either side of him, but
the ground between them was clear. The heat was
intense though. Not even the grass would last long at
this rate.

Vorgens took off at top speed, straight down the alley
of fire, legs pumping as hard as they could, lungs sucking
in searing, spark-filled air. Smoke burned at his eyes and
he could feel that parts of his face and hands were
scorched.

Finally he was free of the flames and stumbling down
the shrub-choked slope that marked the edge of the
meadow and the end of the Komani camp. Gasping for
breath, exhausted and riddled with pain, he sprawled in
the bushes.

For several minutes he lay there, chest heaving, legs
aching, watching the heavy black smoke, occasionally
mixed with tongues of flame, billowing from the Komani
camp.

"Are you all right?"

Startled, he turned to see Altai kneeling beside him.

"Yes. I'll be fine as soon as I catch my breath."

"The Komani will have the fire out soon," she said.
"We'd better move quickly."

Vorgens scrambled to his feet. "I'm ready."

Silently she led him deeper into the brush, past a
clump of tall trees. Beyond the trees stood Sittas, his
robes tinged red by the last rays of the sinking sun.

"I took the liberty," Altai said as they approached the
priest, "of borrowing three flyers from one of the Komani
tents that I had to set on fire. They will never miss
them."

"You set on fire? You mean yon did all that ... your-
self?"

She nodded and tried not to look smug, but Vorgens
could see that she was proud of herself. "It wasn't too
difficult. None of the tents was occupied. The Komani
used them for storing ammunition and equipment. All it
took was a couple of small grenades to set off
everything."

"And a lot of courage," Vorgens added.

By this time they were close enough for Sittas to Join
the conversation. "You made it safely," the old priest
said.

"A few singes here and there, but I'm still alive."

"It'll be dark soon," Altai said. "We'd better wait for
a while before trying to take off on the flyers."

They spent the last few minutes of daylight examining
the saddfe-like, one-man Komani flyers. None of them
had ridden one before, but after a few tests of the con-
trols, Vorgens showed them how to handle it.

Night finally came, softened by the ever-present air-
glow, A flicker of fire still rose from the Komani camp.

Vorgens straddled his flyer and touched the buttons
on the pummel that activated the machine. The flyer
seemed to pulse into life. It stirred and vibrated, as
though waiting for a command to action. He glanced at
Sittas and Altai. They both seemed ready to go, although
Vorgens worried about the priest's ability to handle the
machine.

At a nod from Altai they started off, keeping low and
sticking as much as possible to the shadows until they
were went away from the Komani camp. Then they soared
above treetop level and made better time.

As they skimmed along, Vorgens allowed Sittas to set
the pace for them. The old man had some difficulty man-
aging the flyer, but with Vorgens and Altai staying side
by side with him, they got along without any real trouble.

They flew toward the valley where the Mobile Force
was encamped, and landed on a hillside nearby, after less
than an hour's flight. They edged the flyers into the
bushes, where they would be reasonably safe from
discovery.

"I'll go the rest of the way on foot," Vorgens said. "If
I tried flying over the guard posts at night they'd shoot
me down automatically."

Sittas nodded. "What will you do after you get there?"

"I've got to convince Brigadier Aikens to break out of
this valley. He's hopelessly outnumbered if he sits there
and tries to battle it out. There'll be a slaughter ... on
both sides."

"If you do get the Ten-am forces out of this trap, what
then?"

Vorgens shook his head. "I don't know. We'll be buy-
ing time. We'll be saving lives. That's enough for now."

"Okatar plans to attack at dawn," Altai said, "from the
side of the valley that will give him the sun at his back."

"I expected that," Vorgens said. "Where will Merdon's
forces be? I'd rather avoid firing on Shinarians, if it can
be helped."

In the semi-darkness, Vorgens coutd not see Altai's
eyes widen in surprise and joy. There was a moment's
hesitation before she answered-

"Our people will be directly on Okatar's left flank, and
one thing more, the Komani are pulling back most of
their men from this end of the valley, so that they can
mount a stronger attack at sunrise. There will be only a
thin screen of warriors in this area."

"Then we could break through," Vorgens said, "if we
hit them with everything we have."

"Yes," Altai agreed, "and without firing on Shinarians."

"You must tell your commander," Sittas reminded,
"that a defeat here may well touch off a galactic war."

"I know. I know."

Sittas looked up at the sky- "You have only until dawn.
You must move quickly."

"I ... there are no words to thank you enough," Vor-
gens said, "not just for your helpbut for my life."

The priest smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "Go
quickly. And good fortune to you."

"What about you and Altai?"

"We will be safe enough- This is our homeworld,
remember."

Vorgens nodded. He turned to Altai. "Thank you, too.
I hope that the fighting is ended quickly."

He wanted to say more, then decided against it. He
turned away from them and started down the grassy
slope of the hill toward the Mobile Force.

Okatar Kang stood watching the smoldering ruins of
the tents, with several of his nobles beside him. His face
was an impassive mask as Komani warriors sprayed and
beat out the last glowing embers.

Merdon walked up slowly, alone except for a single
Komani escort.

"It was a stubborn fire," Merdon said.

Okatar looked down at the young rebel. Though tall
for a Shinarian, Merdon barely stood as high as the
Komani Kang's shoulder.

"Several cases of Terran thermal grenades made the
fire difficult to fight," Okatar said.

"This was an unfortunate time for such an accident,"
Merdon said. "With the attack ..."

Okatar cut him short. "This fire will have no effect on
our attack- And it was no accident. It was deliberate
sabotage."

"Deliberate? You can't mean it."

Okatar said nothing.

"But who would do such a thing?" Merdon asked.

"I was hoping you might be able to tell me. Obviously
no Komani would destroy his own tents and some of his
precious ammunition."

Merdon nodded and remained silent for a few
moments, his mind racing. Then he asked, "Wasn't the
Watchman quartered near here?"

"Yes," Okatar said, gesturing toward a patch of charred
earth. "That was where his tent stood."

"Where is he now?"

Okatar shrugged. "We have found no sign of him."

"Then it must have been him! He knew he was going
to be executed, so he somehow set this fire, trying to
cause damage to us. He probably died in his own
flames."

Okatar's yellow eyes flickered with amusement. "An
engaging theory. However, there are three flaws in it.
First, we have not found his remains among the ruins."

"His body could have been totally consumed ..."

"Second," Okatar continued, ignoring Merdon, "one of
my warriors saw die Watchman inside his own tent after
the first explosions. The fire had already started."

"Could he have"

"And finally," Okatar went on, relentlessly, "we have
the very curious pattern of the fire itself."

Okatar pointed to one of the warriors standing nearby,
and the Komani switched in a huge floodlight that bathed
the whole area in brightness.

"Look carefully at the scene of the fire," Okatar said
to Merdon. "Tell me what you see."

Merdon said, "Blackened ground where the flames
were burning. Some withered grass nearby. What else?"

"Starting here, where the Watchman's tent stood,"
Okatar said, striding to the scorched oval, "and looking
outward toward the edge of the campwhat do you
see?"

Merdon looked out along the direction indicated by
the Kang's outstretched arm. The evidence was clear;
two lanes of fire-blacked ground, and between them, a
path of safety that led to the edge of the camp.

"I see," Merdon said at last.

"Yes," Okatar answered. "Now I ask youwho would
have done this? Who would have committed this sabo-
tage, and rescued the Watchman? One of my men, or
one of yours?"

Merdon looked directly into the Komani chieftain's
eyes. "Perhaps neither," he said evenly. "Perhaps it was
the two Terrans who had escaped. They might have
returned to free their fellow prisoner."

"How would they know where he was being held?"

Merdon stroked his jaw for a moment. "They could
have been watching the camp from those trees. Or the
Watchman might have had some sort of miniature signal-
ing device hidden on him."

Okatar nodded. "Perhaps so. I had not considered that
possibility."

"My people have been fighting shoulder to shoulder
with your warriors," Merdon added. "There is no reason
to think that they would have aided the Watchman, and
done this damage to our cause."

"Perhaps," Okatar muttered. "Perhaps."

"Still," Merdon said, "I will check with my people to
see if they can shed any light on this."

"Good."

"The attack is still set for dawn?"

Okatar nodded.

"All right. I'd better get down there with my men."

Merdon turned away and left the scene of the fire.
Okatar gestured to the warrior at the light, and the
Komani turned it off.

"Do you believe him?" asked one of the nobles.

"Of course not," Okatar replied. "There were six Shi-
narians present when I sentenced the Watchman to
death: Merdon, his four underlings, and that priest. Send
a man to check on each of them. If any one of them is
missing, your man is to find himno matter where on
Shinar he may be, and when he finds himkill him."

"It shall be done."



IX

The Hours
Before Dawn


Brigadier Aikens sat in frowning silence for a moment as
the Star Watchman stood before him. Vorgens looked
bedraggled and utterly worn. His uniform was torn and
grimy. There was an angry red bum on his right cheek.

Finally the brigadier hunched over his desk and jabbed
a finger at Vorgens. "Do you seriously expect me to
beheve this story?"

"Sir, if my word is not"

"I don't doubt your word. Watchman. It's your judg-
ment." Aikens grinned humorlessly. "Befriended by a
native priest. Rescued from a firing squad. Tipped off to
the Komani strategy and shown a route by which we can
escape. Use your head, boyl You've been hoodwinked."

"I can't believe that, sir," Vorgens said quietly, "I know
what I saw."

Aikens ran a hand over his balding dome. "All right,
what did you see? That the barbarians have more men
and equipment than we thought? That some of the
natives are on their side? That we can't count on rein-
forcements from the city garrisons? So what? It makes
no difference on the military situation here."

"But that's the whole point, sir," Vorgens insisted, his
voice still soft. "The tactical situation here is overshad-
owed by the strategic importance of your decision. If the
defeat of the Mobile Force is to be the signal for a
general uprising of the Komani clans, then strategically
you must withdraw and decline combat. You can't afford
running the risk of a defeat at this time and place."

"Are you lecturing me on military concepts?" Aikens
got up slowly from his chair and his voice rose in pitch-
"My men can whip any horde of undisciplined barbar-
ians, I don't care what their numbers are!"

"But the Komani are not undisciplined. They're as well
trained as any troops in the galaxy. And the odds are
overwhelmingly against you. If you fight here you will be
wiped out. Your defeat will touch off a war of terrible
proportions."

Aikens thundered, "I've served this Empire for more
years than you've known, and on more planets than I
care to remember, and I've never heard such panicked,
sickening, fear-ridden talk in my life. If you think for one
minute that I'll be scared into a withdrawal that'll be, at
best, a humiliation to our uniforms, and might possibly
lead to a well-planned ambush ..."

"But, sir"

"But nothing!" Aikens slammed a fist on his desk.
"Wake up. Watchman! Just because you're racially closer
to these natives than to real Terrans doesn't mean that
you have to swallow everything they tell you. They've fed
you a fairy tale. There's nothing those savages would like
better than to see my Force trying to sneak out of this
valley. They'd cut us to ribbons between here and the
next range of hills. That priest, and that girl you seem
so entranced withthey're probably waiting for us up in
those hills, with guns in their hands, waiting for us and
laughing at you! It's a trap, Watchman. A trap set for a
gullible young fool."

Vorgens sucked in his breath. "Sir, I cannot stand by
and"

"Just get out of my sight, mister, and stay out of my
way."

Aikens sat down again and turned his attention to the
pile of reports on his desk.

"Brigadier Aikens, you don't realize what you're"

"Dismissed."

"But, sir"

"Dismissed!"

Vorgens left the brigadier's office and walked blindly
down the narrow passageway to the outer hatch. He
climbed down to the ground and stood for a moment
next to the mammoth dreadnaught, looking at the maze
of vehicles spread across the valley floor, waiting for the
dawn. Most of the men were sleeping, he knewor try-
ing to.

Can Aikens be right? Vorgens wondered. What makes
me so certain that I'm not wrong? He was right about
Okatar Kong's reaction to the truce offer. It could be a
trap. Sittas lying? Altai working for the Komani? Lead-
ing me and the whole Mobile Force into a slaughter?
And yet... I went across those hills tomg/ri. The Komani
ready have pulled most of their men away. Can that be
part of the trap? Whose judgment can I trust, my own,
or Aikens'?

He began to walk away from the dreadnaught, looking
for the cruiser in which he had been quartered. As he
walked, he continued to question himself.

How long has Aikens been on Shinar?

A few weeks.

Has he met any of the native rebel leaders?

No.

Has he seen any of the Komani?

Only in battle.

What does he know about the situation on Shinar?

Only what he tells himself.

Then why was he right about Okatar's refusal of the
truce?

Vorgens stopped for a moment and puzzled over that
one. He knew what Okatar would do, the Watchman
realized suddenly, because that is exactly what Aikens
himself would have done if he had been in Okatar's place.

Aikens and Okatar! The same personality, really, when
you strip away the differences in race and cultural back-
ground. Both warriors. Both impatient with anything less
than battle. Both eager to fight it out, here in this valley.

Aikensdoesn't want to retreat from the valley because
he's anxious to meet Okatar in battle- His fear of a trap
is just an excuse. Probably he doesn't realize it himself,
but it's only an excuse. He wants to fight Okatar!

Vorgens frowned. Or do I merely want to believe it,
because I think Aikens is wrong?

There was a way to verify his idea, Vorgens suddenly
remembered. He turned back and half ran toward the
dreadnaught. He clambered inside and made his way to
the main computer. A dreadnaught's computer served an
amazing variety of functions, from directing fire control
to making statistical predictions of an enemy's intent.
Vorgens was interested in the personnel records stored
in the memory banks. The records were carried to allow
officers to pick particularly qualified men for any given
task. As a matter of course, the brigadier's battle history
would be there-

The computer control center was a tiny compartment,
consisting of a desk-console with its control keyboard,
and a readout viewscreen. The cramped compartment was
unattended at this hour.

It took Vorgens a few minutes to figure out the coding
sm that unlocked the computer's memory banks, but
Uy he had Brigadier Aikens' battle record on the
viewscreen.

Vorgens tensed in sudden shock as he read about
Aikens' first major battle. It was in the Pleiades Uprising,
the rebellion in which Vorgens' own grandfather had
been killed.

So Aikens fought against my people, Vorgens said to
himself.

The Star Watchman read the details of the record.
Aikens was a junior officer then. and he did not see
action on the planet where Vorgens' family lived.

Stiff, he doesn't think very highly of my people.

Vorgens read on. There were two other major battles
in Aikens' record. His first action as a senior commander
was a daring attack on the capital planet of the Saurian
Federation. Vorgens recalled from his history courses
that the Saurians had attempted to withdraw from the
Terran Empire. Aikens' raid on their capital was the blow
that collapsed them.

Vorgens scanned past scores of minor skirmishes, and
then found the third major battle on the brigadier's
record. It was against a Komani clan that was raiding a
Terran planet. Aikens was in charge of the garrison. He
had been awarded the Legion of Courage medal for his
successful defense of the planet.

The citation that accompanied the medal read, in part,
"For heroically standing his ground in the face of over-
whelming enemy superiority in numbers ..."

So that's what he's up to, Vorgens thought. He wants
to repeat the tactics that won the medal.

Vorgens flicked off the computer and leaned back in
the chair before the control console. The record had
made many things clearAikens' immediate dislike of
Vorgens, and the brigadier's stubborn insistence on
standing his ground and facing his enemies, no matter
what their number and advantage.

Only one thing was not clear: what could Star Watch
Junior Officer Vorgens do to correct the situation?

Impulsively, Vorgens tapped out another set of instruc-
tions on the computer keyboard. He spent a few more
minutes reading very carefully the Star Watch regulations
that appeared on the viewscreen in answer to his request.

Vorgens nodded to himself. He turned off the com-
puter once again and stepped out of the tiny compart-
ment into the passageway. At one end of the passageway
was an open hatch, and Vorgens could see the sky begin-
ning to pale.

The Watchman made his way to the dreadnaught's
dispensary. A sleepy-eyed medic, gray-haired and sour-
faced, was sitting next to the diagnostic booth, checking
his inventory of supplies.

"I'll need some energy capsules that will keep me
going at top efficiency for the next day."

The medic looked up at him. "When's the last time
you slept?"

Vorgens had to think a moment. "Night before last
until about noon."

"Pills are no substitute for sleep."

"Doctor, I have no time to argue."

The medic got up from his chair and went to a cabinet.
"All right. But I want your name. I'll have to check on
you. I don't want anybody living on pills."

Vorgens grinned. "Doctor, if we're both alive by the
end of this day, you can check on me as much as you
like."

The medic handed him three orange capsules. "That
should keep you going for a whole day. Take one now,
the others when you ieel you need "em."

"Thank you. My name is Vorgens. Star Watch Junior
Officer."

Vorgens left the dreadnaught and trotted toward the
cruiser where his quarters were. His thoughts were rac-
ing even faster than his body, though.

You know what you think and what you believe. Do
you have the nerve to act on it? Do you have the strength
to make a decision that will mean life or death for all
the men in this valley? Can you shoulder that much
responsibility?

He knew that, in reality, it did not matter whether he
wanted to take the responsibility or not. It was his, and
he could not escape it-
While Vorgens was arguing with Brigadier Aikens,
Merdon was striding along the narrow crest of a ridge
overlooking the valley where the Mobile Force lay hud-
dled and waiting for the dawn.

The young Shinarian was inspecting his troops in the
final hours before battle. In the softly lit night, he
watched his rebelsstudents, farmers, young workers
from the citiesas they cleaned their guns, checked their
ammunition, went over their assignments with their
squad leaders.

Tarat, walking beside Merdon, said, "They're ready.
They're primed and ready for the battle."

Merdon nodded. As he stepped along the ridge, the
young fightersgirls as well as menrecognized him
and waved or grinned in greeting.

Beyond the crest of the ridge the ground sloped away
toward the valley floor. The Terran forces there were
hidden in shadow, but Merdon could sense their
presence.

"Any activity tonight?" he asked Tarat, pointing a
thumb toward the darkened valley floor.

The lanky tactician shook his head. "They've been very
quiet. A few patrols this morning, but they withdrew as
soon as we offered some opposition. Since men, nothing."

"H'm. Where are Romani and the others?"

"A little -further down the line. They're waiting for
you."

"Good."

"Say, have you told Altai to stay away from the battle?"

Merdon's head jerked upward involuntarily. "Why ...
what makes you ask?"

"She hasn't been here all night. We thought she'd be
coming with you, but she didn't. She's always been in
the thick of everythingever since the first fights at the
university."

"She'll be here," Merdon said flatly.

"When? I mean, what's keeping her? She's our good
luck charm."

"She'll be here!"

Tarat stared at his chief for a moment, then decided
to drop the subject. "I've set up the command post up
there," he pointed, "on that little knoll. Gives us a good
view of the ridge and the whole valley."

"Good."

They climbed up the side of the knoll and stepped
into the dugout that had been cut into its crest. It had
a bare, earthen floor and walls, and was roofless. Merdon
glanced up at the sly. A few clouds were scudding across
the stars.

"It's not going to rain, is it?"

Romal answered, "We made a radio contact with our
underground forces in Capital City. Their meteorologist
predicts some cloudiness here for tomorrow, but no
rain."

Merdon turned from the little quartermaster to
another of his lieutenants- "Ron, you're a farmer. Will it
rain tomorrow?"

Ron scratched his head. "Shouldn't. But we might get
a shower towards sundown."

"So much for meteorology," Merdon muttered.

He turned and surveyed the dugout. Portable commu-
nications equipment stood along one wall, with a table
full of maps alongside it. Merdon went to the table and
half sat against it.

"I assume everyone is ready for the attack, and you all
know exacdy what you're expected to do."

They murmured agreement.

"I just want to call your attention to the basic job
we've got to do. The Komani will be mounted on their
flyers. They'll be the shock troops. Their mission is to
hit the Terrans with beamguns and missiles, and knock
out or neutralize the Terran armored vehicles.

"We'll be the infantry. We move in behind the Komani
attack waves and mop up. We're the ones who'll actually
board the Terran vehicles and smoke out their crews.
It'll be tough, unspectacular, dangerous work. Our casu-
alties will probably be high. But at the end of this day
before the showers that Ron predictsthe Terran
Mobile Force will be wiped out. Within a week, the
garrisons of the four cities either will have surrendered
or been destroyed. Shinar will be free."

None of the young leaders cheered, but Merdon could
see the eagerness and determination in their eyes-

"Is this meeting for men only, or can a lowly female
come in?" Altai asked, and without waiting for an answer
she stepped into the command post. A beamgun was
buckled at her hip, and a bandoher of grenades slung
over one shoulder.

Merdon grinned at her. "I was beginning to wonder
what was keeping you."

"You didn't think I'd stay away, did you?"

Their eyes met and locked for a long. wordless
moment.

Romal broke the silence. "Did you see the fire in the
Komani camp?" he squealed. "It took them hours to get
it out. Six tents full of stores and ammunition, up in
smoke."

"Yes," Altai answered with a slight smile, "I saw the
fire."

"And where is your uncle?" Merdon asked.

"He wanted to come, but I thought it would be better
if he remained further back in the hills. The front line
is no place for a man of his years."

"True enough."

"I'm not in the way, am I?" Altai asked. "Did I
interrupt?"

"No," Tarat said, "We were just leaving. There's noth-
ing remaining to be done now except wait for the dawn's
first light."

"Good luck then," Altai said to the four lieutenants as
they filed out of the dugout.

When the last of them was out of earshot, Merdon
took both her hands in his and said, "I'm glad you came,
I was worried about you."

"We saw the Watchman back safely to the Terran
forces."

"It was a foolish thing for you to do. Foolish -and
futile."

"Perhaps," she answered. "But I had to do it."

"And yet you came back to fight against him."

"Not against him, Merdon. For Shinar. No matter how
much we differ about the Watchman, we are still
together on the basic factShinar will be free."

While Merdon and Altai talked away the final hour
before dawn, six Komani warriors huddled together in a
trench not far from the Shinarian command post.

"Every one of the Shinarians is here except the old
priest," said one of the warriors.

Another of the warriors nodded. "I cannot find him
anywhere."

"Then according to Lord Okatar's command," said the
first, "he is the one responsible for the fire at camp."

"Tes. I must find him, wherever he is hiding, and kill
him."

The six huge, cat-faced warriors agreed with solemn
nods.

"I will miss the battle, then," said the Komani.

"Better to miss the battle than to disobey the orders
of your Kang."

"True. Still, it is hard to turn one's back on a battle."

"Lord Okatar will reward you greatly for your
faithfulness."

"If I find the priest."

"There is no alternative. You may not return to our
tents until you have carried out the Kang's command.
The priest must die."

"Yes."

The warriors stood up and began to exchange farewells
when, involuntarily, their ears pricked up.

"Listen?"

"What is it?"

A faint, far-off whining. A distant, high-pitched shrill.

"I know that sound," said one of the Komani. "It
comes from Terran engines. They are starting up their
cruisers and dreadnaughts. The battle is about to begin."



X

Time of Decision


Vorgens reached his cruiser at about the same time Mer-
don met his lieutenants in the dugout command post.

The Watchman spent onfy a few minutes in the
cramped cubicle of his quarters. He stripped off his rag-
ged clothes, ducked into the lav-stall for an automatic
shower and air-blown drying, changed into a clean uni-
form and strapped on a sidearm. Then he left the cruiser
and began to hunt for Mclntyre.

The effect of the stimulant had reached its full force
now, and would sustain Vorgens for several hours more.
He felt strong and buoyant, his head was clear. He knew
what he had to do, and although he was not particularly
happy with the task ahead, he realized that it was the
best possible alternative, under the circumstances.

As he searched through the welter of vehicles and
equipment that comprised the Mobile Force, Vorgens
could see that the men were ready for an attack at dawn.
Hardly anyone was alseep. They were checking their
weapons, taking stock of their supplies, making last-
minute mechanical repairs on their battlewagons. Even
the few that were stretched out on the decks and turrets
mostly wide-eyed and sleepless-

Mclntyre was sitting in front of a cruiser, carefully
adjusting the firing sight of a one-man missile launcher.
He had to work with one hand, since his injured arm
was still in the cast.

"Good morning. Sergeant."

Mclntyre looked up, then leaped to his feet, knocking
the tubular missile launcher off its tripod.

"Sir! You made it back!"

Vorgens nodded curtly. "I don't have much time for
talking. Sergeant. I need volunteersreal volunteers."

Mclntyre's eyes widened as Vorgens explained what
he intended to do, and the Star Watch regulations cov-
ering such situations.

"I'll need a dozen men. They should all be experi-
enced, and they should be told exactly what they're get-
ting into. Can you get me that many men in fifteen
minutes?"

For the first time since Vorgens had known him,
Mclntyre seemed uncertain of himself. "I can sure try,
sir. I can sure try."

It took closer to twenty minutes, but finally Mclntyre
had assembled a dozen men, noncoms and troopers, all
of them. Vorgens looted them over as they lined up
before the battle cruiser. They were a hard-faced, vet-
eran crew-

"The sergeant has explained what this is about," Vor-
gens told them. "Although I am taking full responsibility
for this action, there is a chance that your own records
may receive a damaging report because of your help to
me. If there is any man here who is afraid to run the
risk of hurting his service record, he is free to fall out."

None of the twelve moved. In fact, an extra man
stepped out of the shadows and joined the tail end of
the line.

"Giradauxt" Mclntyre roared. "Get outta there."

The trooper's lean face twisted into a frown. "Sarge,
if you're in this, I want to be in on it, too. By glory, I'm
a soldier, same as you."

Mclntyre stood before the youngster, his tall, thickset
form looming over Giradaux's lanky frame. "You're a sol-
dier, all right, and when the wind's behind you, you're a
bloody expedition. But this ain't soldiering, sonny, it's
politics, and I'm gonna have enough to do without wor-
iyin' about you. Now fall out! Move!"

Giradaux stepped out of line, his face miserable. Vor-
gens walked over to him.

"I don't have time to explain," the Watchman said,
"but the sergeant is trying to do you a favor. Don't feel
disappointed."

Without further ado, Vorgens marched his tiny contin-
gent straight to Brigadier Aikens' dreadnaught. The sky
was beginning to turn noticeably pink. There was pre-
cious little time left.

At the main hatch, Vorgens split up his men: "You two
take the communications center. You two, the engine
compartment. Three of you take charge of the control
center; three more, take the main turret. The remaining
two will stay here at the hatch. Let no one in or out.
Sergeant, you come with me."

"You three headin' for the control center," Mclnfyre
instructed, "make sure that all the other outside hatches
are shut off."

They clambered in through the hatch and hurried off
to their assigned positions. Most of the dreadnaught's
crew were in their bunks, and only a skeleton force was
on hand to oppose Vorgens' armed men.

While the troopers seized control of the giant fighting
vehicle, Vorgens and Mclntyre marched to the exec's
compartment- Vorgens knocked once and entered.

The exec was sitting on his bunk, with a writing table
pulled across his lap- He looked up from the letter he
was dictating into the audioprinter.

"What's wrong. Watchman?"

"Get your jacket on and come with me," Vorgens
ordered.

"What?"

"I don't have time for arguing. We're going to see the
brigadier."

"He'll throw you out ..."

"No he won't. Put on your jacket and come. I'm sure
the brigadier will want you as a witness."

The exec pushed the writing table away and stood up.
"Witness? To what? What's going on here. Watchman?"

"You'll see soon enough. Come on."

The exec grabbed his jacket from the rack over his
bunk, then looked down at his bare feet.

"No time for putting on boots," Vorgens said. "Let's
move."

With a helpless shrug, the exec padded out into the
passageway behind Vorgens, pulling on his jacket and
buttoning it as they advanced to Brigadier Aikens'
compartment.

Aikens, in full-dress uniform, was buckling a pair of
ornate pistols across his middle when the door to his
compartment abruptly opened. Vorgens and the exec
stepped in. Mclntyre remained out in the passageway.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Aikens
bellowed. "I told you to stay out of my sight. Watchman.
What's the meaning of breaking in here like this? And
you," he turned to the exec, "where are your boots?"

Vorgens said quietly, "Brigadier Aikens, you are hereby
relieved of duty. I am assuming command of the Mobile
Force."

Aikens' mouth popped open, but for once in his life
he was speechless. He simply stood there, his lips pursed
into a silent. Oh.

"I realize that this is an unusual circumstance," Vor-
gens continued, "but the standard regulations clearly
point out that all Imperial Marine personnel are subject
to Star Watch jurisdiction."

"But a junior officer can't assume command from a
full brigadier." the exec protested.

Vorgens smiled tightly. "The regulations have no provi-
sion in them that prohibits such an action. I am the only
Star Watch officer on this planet. I represent Star Watch
Headquarters. I am not satisfied with Brigadier Aikens'
handling of the situation, therefore, I must relieve him
of duty. There is no one else to place in command but
myself."

"You're taking command of my Force?" Aikens rasped,
finding his voice at last.

"This is not a decision I arrived at lightly, I assure
you," Vorgens said to the brigadier. "I can see no alterna-
tive. I know this is unpleasant for you. It is equally
unpleasant for me."

"Unpleasant!" Aikens screamed. "By all the gods of
war, I'll have you shot before the sun comes up!" He
began punching buttons on his desktop communicator.

Vorgens shook his head. "I'm afraid that you'll find
the drcadnaught is already under my command. I would
appreciate it if you'd take off those guns and hand them
over to me."

For a stunned instant, Aikens stood frozen behind the
desk. Then he slowly unbuckled the gunbelt and tossed it
on the floor at Vorgens' feet. Vorgens waited for another
explosion from the brigadier. Instead, the older man
seemed more bewildered and uncomprehending than
anything else. He sank down in his chair and stared
ahead blankly.

Vorgens turned to the exec. "We're going to break out
of this vauey. Inform all the officers that we will regroup
immediately in Standard Formation 014. The breakout
will be made in sectors W5 and W6. I want all units
ready to move as soon as the sun clears the hills."

The exec gasped. "That's only ten or fifteen minutes
from now."

"Then you'll have to hurry."

"Yes sir!"

The exec scampered out of the compartment, past
Mclntyre, headed for the communications center.

Vorgens turned back to the brigadier. "I'm sorry it had
to happen this way, sir. But I really have no other choice.
I was sent to Shinar to try to arrange a truce. Now it is
apparent that my first job is to prevent the Komani from
destroying this Force, because if they are successful
against us, a new galactic war will be triggered. That
must be avoided at all costs. Surely you can see that."

"I can see that you're trying to ruin me," Aikens said
dully. "You're trying to destroy a record of fifty-five years
-of service with your own half-cocked dreams of glory."

"That's not true at all," Vorgens countered- "Ever
since I came to Shinar, I've been shunted around from
place to place by you, by the Komani, by some of the
Shinarians. I've been pushed into killing some of the
people with whom I came to negotiate. I've been turned
into a messenger boy. I've been taken prisoner, and had
a death sentence read over me. I've been rescued from
a firing squad by an old man and a girl, because they
saw in me what I had almost forgotten was therea
chance to bring peace to Shinar, to prevent this war from
starting.

"Now I've stopped playing messenger. I'm a Star
Watch officer, and I'm going to take me responsibility
that goes with the uniform. I've seen the enemy face
to face, and I've seen the rebels, too. Fighting, killing,
destroyingthat's not going to bring peace to this planet.
I've got to convince the rebels of this."

Aikens grunted- "And the Komani? Are you going to
talk them out of their plans of conquest?"

"No, I'm afraid not. They will pay attention only to
force. But when we fight them, I want it to be on my
terms, at a time and place that I chose, not at Okatar's
convenience."

Aikens' eyes glittered with rage. "IfI say, if. Watch-
manif we both live through this, I'm going to see you
before the highest military tribunal in the Empire,
stripped of rank and uniform, and sentenced to the worst
penalty they can mete out."

"Perhaps," Vorgens said, "Perhaps." Then he added
softly, "But the first thing we must do is live through
today, isn't it?"

Vorgens dropped to one knee and picked up the briga-
dier's pistol belt. Then the Watchman straightened to
attention and made a formal salute to Aikens. The older
man did not return the salute, but merely sat behind his
desk, glaring at Vorgens.

The Star Watchman left the compartment. Mclntyre
was still standing out in the passageway.

"Get one of your men," Vorgens said, as he shut the
brigadier's door, "to stand watch at this post. Then join
me at the control center."

"Yes sir," Mclntyre said, with a salute. Then he relaxed
for a moment and said, with a grin, "Congratulations, sir.
And good luck."

Vorgens returned the smile. "Thank you, sergeant.
We'll need all the luck we can get."

The control center was a half-level above the officers'
quarters, and just under the dreadnaught's main turret.
like every compartment in the mammoth groundcar, the
control deck was cramped and low-ceilinged. In addition,
it was crammed with computer units, communications
equipment, and a tight semicircle of control desks, where
tech-specialists could keep in constant touch with every
part of the vehicle, and with every vehicle in the Mobile
Force.

Vorgens climbed up the ladder from the level below,
and silently took the commander's seat at the half-circle
of control desks. In the dim, greenish light from the
viewscreens he could see that most of the crew was
uncertain, anxious. The battle was about to begin, and a
new, totally untried commander was in charge,

"I want my instructions processed automatically by the
master computer and relayed immediately to the rest of
the Force," Vorgens said quietly.

The computer and communications men nodded and
began setting up their instruments to carry out the Star
Watchman's commands.

"Computer ready, sir," called out the tech-specialist.

"Communications ready, sir."

Vorgens nodded. On the desk before him, he could
see a pair of green lights signaling what the men had
just told him.

For a moment, he hesitated. Looking up at the men
around himall of them staring back at himVorgens
suddenly realized that every one of them was a complete
stranger. Even Mclntyre he had known for less than a
week.

With an abrupt shake of his head, Vorgens put such
thoughts aside. He began dictating his instructions.

Deep in the bowels of the dreadnaught, the master
computer translated the Star Watchman's words into
electromagnetic pulses and began sorting them out with
the speed of light. Automatically, the computer processed
the instructions into a separate set of orders for each
of the three hundred individual vehicles in the Mobile
Force.

Automatically, each set of orders was relayed to the
communications transmitter and beamed to each individ-
ual dreadnaught, cruiser, scoutcar, troopcarrier, supply
van. On three hundred separate vehicles, communica-
tions receivers relayed the messages to computers. On
three hundred vehicles, computers suddenly chugged to
life and busily rattled off detailed orders. As the tapes
wormed out of the printers three hundred skippers read
the orders and began barking commands. The sum total
of all these individual messages was Vorgens' plan for
breaking out of the Komani trap.

Scoutcars and troopcarriers were to speed to the slopes
where the Komani had thinned out their forcesSectors
W5 and W6 on the Terran maps. The troopers were to
seize those two sectors and hold them, with the scoutcars
neutralizing any pockets of enemy resistance. Light cruis-
ers, slower and less maneuverable than the smaller vehi-
cles, would follow up the first assault and provide extra
firepower.

As the troopers gained command of the slopes, engi-
neers' vans were to immediately begin grading the terri-
tory, using force beams and explosives. The objective was
to gouge out a broad, easy slope with no major obstruc-
tions, so that the larger vehicles of the Mobile Force
could skim up the slopes and out of the valley as quickly
as possible. Vorgens remembered how his battle cruiser
was forced to crawl along the twisting, narrow trail up
the slopes. He wanted no more of mat. If the entire
Mobile Force had to file out of the valley like that, they
would never escape alive.

While the troopers were holding open the escape route
and the engineers were making it ready to handle the
main body of the Mobile Force, the rest of the Force
was to fall back slowly toward the escape slopes. A special
task unit of ten dreadnaughts, including Vorgens' flag-
ship, was to form a rear guard, and to keep the Komani
attack stalled and off balance until the final dash for
freedom-

"That's the plan," Vorgens muttered to himself as he
watched the computer's steady stream of orders flash
across the viewscreen at his elbow. "Now to see if it will
work."



XI

Breakout


Okatar Kang stood at the crest of a hill with the first
rays of the rising sun at his back. Below him, the valley
floor was still cloaked in darkness, but the Komani tech-
nicians had set up a battery of viewscreens that showed
the Mobile Force.

The Kang paced restlessly behind the technicians, who
were seated before their mobile viewscreens. The high-
pitched shriek of Terran engines was wafting up from
the valley.

"What are they doing?" Okatar demanded of no one
in particular.

One of his nobles, pacing alongside him, answered,
"They are preparing for the battle, starting their
engines."

The viewscreens suddenly went blank. Before Okatar
could say anything, the technicians had readjusted them,
and the pictures of the sprawling Terran armored Force
reappeared.

"They've put up an energy shield," one of the techni-
cians said.

"We expected that," said the noble at Okatar's elbow.
"It cannot be a very powerful shield, since its generating
equipment must be small and mobile. An hour's worth
of force beams should saturate it."

"What about missiles?" Okatar snapped.

"The Terran shield will probably stop some of them,
but not all. Their shield could not possibly be as strong
as the screen we have around our camp. Of course, our
warriors will be able to penetrate the shield with ease.
Not even the Terrans have been able to devise an energy
screen so solid that a man cannot step through it."

Okatar nodded. "How much longer before the signal?"

The noble glanced at the watch set into his jeweled
wristband, "The signal should be givennow."

A hundred beams of light lanced out of the hills down
toward the still-shadowy valley floor and splashed into
blinding brilliance against the Terran energy shield. Mis-
siles roared through the morning mists and exploded in
flashes of flame. Through the noise of the explosion rose
a mighty shout as Komani warriors charged down from
the hilltops, riding their one-man flyers straight toward
the Terrans.

Okatar stood riveted before the viewscreens, his nobles
clustered about him. They watched the Terran armored
vehicles shift positions as they awaited the onslaught of
the Komani. Here and there, missiles penetrated the
Mobile Force's energy shield and blasted into the
ground. One of them hit a cruiser, and Okatar could not
restrain an exultant laugh. The force beams, though, were
stopped completely by the shield-

"What are they up to?" Okatar wondered aloud as he
watched the screens.

The smallest Terran vehiclesscoutcars and troop carriers
seemed headed for the rear, while the big dreadnaughts
and battle cruisers were moving up to face the Komani
attack.

They're moving their lightly armored vehicles away from
our missile barrage," one of the nobles said.

Okatar looked up from the screen. It was light enough
now to see the valley floor deariy. The Komani warriors
were halfway down the hills, halfway to the valley floor.
But his attack was not interesting Okatar as much as the
Terrans' moves toward the rear.

"Why are they pulling their troops away from the fight-
ing? Do they expect to face my warriors with their armored
vehicles atone, without infantry support?"

"The Terrans have no stomach for facing our warriors
man to man," said a noble. "They are too cowardly to fight,
except from within an armored vehicle."

Okatar nodded, but his face was still frowning in
puzzlement

At his slot in the control center, Vorgens watched the
viewscreen before him, his high forehead puckered into
worried wrinkles.

Someone slid into the empty seat next to him. Vorgens
looked up. It was die exec.

The older officer smiled, "Reports from Sectors W5 and
6 sound pretty smooth so far. Everything progressing
according to plan. Ugtit resistance."

"Are me engineers ready to go?" Vorgens asked. "That's
the most critical part of the operation."

"Ready and anxious. As soon as you give the word."

Vorgens nodded. "Where's Sergeant Mclntyre?"

"I believe he went out with me other troopers in the
vans."

"Yes, that sounds like him."

The Star Watchman returned his attention to die views-
creen. It was bright daylight now, so mat the infrared scan-
ners were no longer necessary. The screen showed the
hills before them, widi the glaring, yellow Oran automatically
filtered out. Flashes from force beams blazed almost con-
tinuously against the energy shield now, and explosions
churned up the valley floor. The mammoth dreadnaughts
and battle cruisers were weaving back and forth in an
intricate, computer-controlled dance that had so far kept
the Komani missiles limited to two damaging hits and a
half-dozen minor ones. Anti-missiles were picking off a
good many incoming missiles, as well. So far the Komani
had not used nuclear warheads- Probably they only had
a few and were saving them for an emergency, Vorgens
thought, or for the moment when the energy screen
collapsed.

The Watchman's attention was focused on the Komani
warriors making their way on their one-man flyers down
the broken, tumbled rocks toward the valley floor. They
were about halfway between the crest of the hills and
the bottom.

"They're sticking pretty close to cover," the exec
observed.

"Yes, but the cover thins out rather quickly as they
approach the valley floor," Vorgens said. "I think we can
hold our fire for another few minutes, and then hit them
with a massed barrage "

The exec nodded agreement. "We might try peppering
the hilltops with missiles, too. The Komani probably have
their second and third waves up there."

Vorgens thought a moment "I'd rather wait until I see
some definite targets. No sense wasting ammunition on
probabilities."

"As you wish."

And no sense bombarding the Shinarian rebels, Vor-
gens thought to himself, if we can avoid getting them
into combat altogether. "What's the latest word from W5
and 6?" the Watchman asked.

The exec flicked a switch on his desk communicator,
and scanned the report that flashed across its tiny view-
screen. "The troopers have advanced about halfway up
the slopes. Their perimeter is almost exactly as planned
the outer edges of the two sectors. Looks good."

"Start the engineers to work."

"Yes sir." The exec pressed a stud on the com-
municator.

"Are all the units in the forward battle line ready to
fire?" Vorgens asked.

"All units report fire control tracking and standing by,"
answered the communications tech.

Vorgens took a last look at the viewscreen before him.
The Komani warriors were nearing the base of the hills.

"Commence firing."

The Terran battle line let loose a devastating hail of
beams and missiles that caught the advanced elements
of the Komani attackers in an inescapable deluge of fire.
The force beams sprayed back and forth across the lines
of warriors and their little flyers. Men and machines were
sliced apart, brush and grass set ablaze, rocks and earth
vaporized by the intense beams of light. Anti-personnel
missiles exploded overhead, showering the area with
deadly shrapnel.

The spearhead of the Komani attack was shattered.
The Terran curtain of fire began to creep up the face of
the hills, catching the Komani warriors further back. The
Komani advance halted and the warriors took whatever
cover they could find among the sparse bushes and Jag-
ged rocks of the hillsides.

"We stopped them!" the exec marveled. "Stopped
them cold,"

"Too easily," Vorgens countered.

"We could counterattack; move up those hills and mop
them up."

Vorgens shook his head. "Perhaps that's what they
expect us to do. No, instead of attacking, we're moving
back. Pass the wordall units to fall back slowly half a
mile."

"But that will give us less room for maneuvering
make us a more compact target."

"Yes, and it will also make a greater open space
between us and the enemy; an open space almost com-
pletely without cover. This is a rear guard action, remem-
ber. We're trying to avoid major contact with the enemy."

The exec nodded, then began giving out the necessary
orders on his communicator.

Slowly, the ponderous dreadnaughts and cruisers and
their escorting vehicles began to withdraw from their
positions. The battlewagons on the flanks pulled back
first, then those in the center joined in the movement.
A huge bowed line, spreading nearly the width of the
valley floor, edged backward, away from the still-rising
sun.

They were in the midst of the maneuver when the
real Komani attack came howling out of the hills on both
their flanks. Thousands of warriors swarmed down on
both sides of the Terran line and began pouring fire into
the armored vehicles-

"This is it," Vorgens muttered as he watched his view-
screen. The hills, even the sly, seemed black with charg-
ing Komani.

"Good grief, look at them," the exec said. "It's a lucky
thing we didn't advance when I wanted to. We'd have
been surrounded."

"Let's get to work," Vorgens said.

The Watchman began dictating a steady stream of
orders- In response, the Terran battle line continued to
edge backward, and bowed even more, with the battle-
wagons on both flanks pulling back further and facing
outward to meet the double attack of the Komani.

A sudden hail of missiles and force beams, including
a few nuclear missiles, smashed into the Terran forces.
One of the nuclear warheads got through and vaporized
a dreadnaught. Vorgens' own vehicle, a few stations up
the line, bucked and rattled when the concussion wave
blew past.

As abruptly as it came, the Komani barrage ended,
and the flying warriors swarmed into the massed Terran
vehicles. Vorgens met them with concentrated fire, his
dreadnaughts and cruisers sweeping the sky with force
beams.

Despite frightful losses, the warriors continued to bore
in. They penetrated the energy shield, and began
attacking individual vehicles with grenades and missile-
guns. Vorgens ordered his vehicles to "pop hatches" and
allow the crews to meet the attackers with handguns and
riflesmuch more effective now than the powerful, long-
range weapons in the turrets.

The main batteries of the dreadnaughts and cruisers,
at Vorgens' orders, kept up a constant rain of fire on the
slopes of the hills, in an effort to prevent the Komani
from reinforcing their first wave of attackers,

The battle line of Terran armor was enveloped in a
wild, confused struggle of men and machines. Komani
warriors swooped everywhere, shooting and bombing as
they flew. Terran Marines crouched in their hatches and
fought back with force beams and anti-personnel missiles
and grenades. The big turrets spat their beams of death
toward the hills, while the smaller gun batteries aboard
the battlewagons spun and fired at the darting Komani
warriors. Dust and smoke, explosions and flame, envel-
oped everyone and everything.

Deep within his dreadnaught, at the control center, Vor-
gens could hear the muffled explosions as his eyes watched
the battle shift back and forth, on the viewscreen.

"We've got to disengage from the warriors," he
muttered to himself. "We've got to scrape them off
our backs ... otherwise the whole plan will fail."

Okatar Kang stood under the cloudless sky and
watched the raging battle on the valley floor. He ignored
the viewscreens set up before him, and instead held a
pair of molectronic binoculars to his eyes. When he put
them down, his face was set in a grim mask of anger.

One of the nobles standing beside him said, "The war-
riors have penetrated the Terran energy shield on both
flanks. It is only a matter of time now. Shall I have the
Shinarians join the attack?"

"They have no transport. It will take them the better
part of an hour before they can reach the fighting," Oka-
tar grumbled.

"Then we had better start them now."

"Yes, send them off." Okatar paced along the crest of
the hill. The breeze was blowing down from the higher
hills toward the valley floor, so mat the smoke and noise
of the battle was carried away from him.

"Why did they retreat?" Okatar demanded. "The fron-
tal attack did not fool them. They did not hold their
ground. They retreated. Why? Did they know that we
would attack their flanks? If they had advanced, or even
held their ground, our double flank attack would have
overwhelmed them. Nowthe issue is in doubt."

"Their commander made a lucky guess," one of the
nobles answered. "Our men will still prevail over them."

"But at what cost? Our losses will be very heavy."

"For every man who falls today," another noble pre-
dicted, "a hundred Komani warriors will join your stan-
dards tomorrow. This victory will establish you as the
leader of all the clans, everywhere."

Okatar looked hard at the noble. "If we have a victory
today."

"Surely you don't think that the Terrans could defeat
us!"

"Not of themselves," Okatar replied. "But we have
traitors in our camp. Men in whom our trust is mis-
placed. Perhaps ..."

A communications technician jumped up from his field
table and dashed over to the Kang-

"What is it?" Okatar demanded.

The tech bowed quickly and answered, "Reports from
our men holding the far hills, on the other side of the
valley, sire. They have been under attack since the sun
rose, and steadily forced back. If they are not reinforced,
the Terrans will drive them from their positions and open
an escape lane out of the valley,"

Okatar snapped his binoculars to his eyes. "By the
blood of our forefathers," he thundered, "the smoke is
covering the area completely."

A noble shrugged at the news. "A Terran diversion.
They cannot possibly get those lumbering vehicles of
theirs across me hills in any time less than a day. There
are no roads, and no trails wider than"

"Sire, the Terran engineers are blasting out roadbeds
through the area that our warriors have been driven
from."

Okatar roared something unintelligible and thrust the
startled technician aside. He strode to the communica-
tions table and talked directly to the leader of the
Komani under attack.

When Okatar straightened up and faced his nobles, his
face was furious. "They're seizing the hills and building
an escape road through them. If we don't stop them,
they'll be out of this valley before nightfall."

"But how ..."

"How did they know that those particular hills were
held with only a skeleton force? Who told them?"

"Sire, we can find the traitors later. At the moment
we must prevent the Terrans from escaping,"

"Contact the second and third waves of our attacking
forces and order them to close the gap in our lines in
those hills."

"Butwhat about the main attack?"

"The first wave alone will have to do as much damage
to the Terrans as it can," Okatar said. "Have the warriors
who made the original frontal attack join them."

"What about the Shinarians?"

"Get them into the battle as quickly as they can get
there. But I doubt that they will be in time."

The oldest noble of the group, his facial hair grizzled
and his back bent with years, spoke up. "Sire, you are
condemning the brave warriors of the first attacking wave
to certain death. They cannot destroy the Terran forces
by themselves, without support."

Okatar nodded curtly. "They will buy time for us,
while we sew up the trap again. The Terrans must not
escape, no matter what the price. That is my command!"

As he sat in the control center, watching the progress
of the seesaw battle over his armored vehicles, Vorgens
felt a cold, hard knot forming in his stomach. He had
taken the responsibility of command, and now the anxiety
and tension of that burden were making themselves felt.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost noon," the exec replied.

"It's not going too well, is it?"

"We're holding our own."

"But we've got to disengage from this attack. We can't
retreat, or try to support me troopers up in the hills,
while the Komani are on top of us,"

The exec rubbed his jaw for a moment. "Listen," he
said, "each vehicle has a complement of armored flying
suits. Why don't we form a reserve brigade and throw
them at the Komani? Maybe we could clear them off."

Vorgens nodded. "It's worth a try."

As the exec began rattling off the orders to form a
flying reserve brigade, Vorgens suddenly felt the strength
ebbing out of him. His head began to throb, it was an
effort to raise his arm and rub his forehead, even his
vision seemed to be going blurry.

Energy capsule, he said to himself, as he rumbled with
his tunic pocket. Need another booster.

He puued the two remaining pills from the pocket and
stared at them in the palm of his hand for a blank
moment- Then he realized a noncom was at his elbow
with a cup of water.

"Thank you," Vorgens mumbled, and he took one of
the capsules.

"Anything else, sir?" the noncom asked.

Vorgens looked up at the Terran. He was as young as
the Watchman himself, pink-cheeked, bright-eyed, with-
out the weight of the galaxy's peace on his shoulders.

"No, that's all, thanks ... Or waitremind me in six
hours to take the other pill."

"Certainly, sir."

Vorgens focused his attention back on the viewscreen.
The battle was still raging outside the dreadnaught. Sev-
eral vehicles were ablaze now, and the ground between
them was bomb-pitted and littered with dead and dying
men, both Terran and Komani.

"The flying squads are ready to go, sir."

Vorgens squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think- "It
would probably be better if they massed at one spot, and
then hit the Komani as a solid unit. Don't you think so?"

The exec nodded- "Exactly. I've given them the word
to group first at battle cruiser J-7"he pointed to the
stereomap on the desktop before him"in the middle
of our battle line."

"Good. Have them sweep to the far side of the valley
first, and once that flank is cleared, they can come back
this way."

"Right." The exec flicked a switch on his communica-
tor and gave the orders.

From every vehicle of the embattled Terran group, a
half-dozen or so men emerged, clad in armored suits
with jetbelts on their backs. Some of them never cleared
the hatches: Komani warriors cut them down- But most
of them fought their way toward the rendezvous point
over a flame-blackened, battered cruiser, and then
wheeled as a unit and began advancing on the milling,
free-wheeling Komani attackers-

The Komani warriors fought mostly as single units.
That was their glory and their strength. Their tactics were
chaos and confusion. They merely blackened the sky and
hit their enemy from every direction at once.

But the Terran flying brigade had the solidity and fire-
power of an airborne dreadnought. Like a mammoth cloud
of death, the Terrans began sweeping the sky clean of
the Komani.

Vorgens watched the progress of the aerial battle. But
a comer of his mind refused to devote itself to the strug-
gle overhead. Something was out of place. Something
had changed in the picture on his viewscreen. What was
it?

The main batteries of the dreadnaughts and cruisers
were no longer firing into the hills, as he had ordered!
But some of the battlewagons were shooting missiles and
force beams across the valley floor, in the direction
where the first attack had come from, at sunrise.

What's going on? Vorgens wondered,

The Star Watchman began twisting the control knobs
of his viewscreen. in an effort to get a panoramic view
of all the action.

Komani warriors were advancing along the valley floor,
from the same spot where the sunrise attack had started.

But that was just a holding attack, meant to draw us
into the trap on our flanks.

And on those flanks, where the Komani should be
pouring wave after wave of attackersnothing. Silence.
No enemy action.

The main attack was coming from our flanks, Vorgens
reasoned. Now Okatar has stopped that attack. He's left
his men here over our vehicles, with no further support.

The answer flashed into his mind with bunding clarity.
At the same moment, a trio of nuclear explosions rocked
the summit of the hills where the Terran troopers and
engineers were struggling to open up an escape route.

"The enemy has broken off his attack on us," Vorgens
shouted into the exec's ear. "They're trying to recapture
Sectors W5 and 6!"

The exec arched his eyebrows and punched a button
on his communicator. A report lit up on his viewscreen.

"The troopers have taken the crest of the hills. The
engineers have blasted out a passable grade about a third
of the way up to the top.... Hold on, there's more.
The troopers are under bombardment. Looks as though
a major counterattack is on the way."

"Get every cruiser out of this battle line and up those
hills as fast as possible," Vorgens snapped. "Put every
available man from the dreadnaughts into flying suits and
clear the attackers off our decks. I want nothing but
skeleton crews aboard the dreadnaughts. We've got an
escape route open. Now it's going to be a race to hold
it!"

Sergeant Mclntyre wormed through the brush, a pistol
in his good hand, and took a careful look out over the
edge of the ridge. Down below, a hundred yards or so,
a squad of Komani were setting up a heavy beamgun to
spray the ridge where Mclntyre's men had dug in.

The Terran troopers had won that ridge in midmom-
ing against stiff Komani resistance, and had held it
against three counterattacks of steadily increasing fury.

The Terrans had dug in and waited for the engineers,
and finally the main body of the Mobile Force, to reach
them. But now, late in the afternoon, they had seen noth-
ing but enemy warriors.

A missile shrieked by. Mclntyre instinctively dug his
face into the grassy ground. The blinding flash, instantly
followed by an ear-splitting explosion, told him that
another nuclear warhead had been fired at them- Fully
half the men he had started out with were already dead
or wounded, but that particular missile, Mclntyre knew,
was off target. It plowed up some ground, knocked down
trees for a square mile around, and sent up an ugly
mushroom cloud, but it hadn't hit any of his men- If
anything, it had merely made the engineers' job a little
easier by clearing some more of the hilly country for
them.

Patiently, Mclntyre waited until the Komani squad had
put their beamgun together. Then he tossed a pair of
grenades at them, in rapid succession. The explosions
were sharp but unspectacular. When the smoke cleared,
the beamgun was a shambles and the Komani killed.
With a grim smile of satisfaction, Mclntyre edged back
to the slit trench where Giradaux and the rest of his men
were waiting-

Another strong attack'll finish us, the sergeant knew.
And th' Komani are gettin' set for a big one. Pretty soon
now. Plenty of movement down in that brush. They're
just about set to wipe us up.

Someone was rushing toward him, racing as fast as he
could while doubled over so that one hand nearly
touched the ground. Mclntyre pointed his pistol at the
lanky, awkward form, then recognized Giradaux.

"I thought I told you to stay with the others," the
sergeant growled as Giradaux flopped belly down beside
him.

"We got a visitor back at the trench, Sarge. An engi-
neer." Giradaux's lean, angular face was split by a big
toothy grin. "Say's he's got a couple of cruisers crawling
up right behind him, and the dreadnaughts are on their
way, too!"

Mclntyre looked at the grinning trooper, then sud-
denly scrambled to his feet. Standing bolt upright, he
stared down toward the valley floor.

About twenty Terran vehicles were scattered across
the valley, smoldng and inert. The rest of the Mobile
Force was streaming up the hillsides, along paths of raw
earth gouged out by the engineers and the Komani bom-
bardment, toward the crest of the hillstoward freedom.

Giradaux and the sergeant scampered back to the slit
trench. A batde-scan-ed cruiser was -already there, and
the troopers were clambering aboard its rear deck.

"He did it!" Mclntyre shouted to the young trooper.
"That Star Watchman has pulled us outta the trap. We're
gettin' outta this valleyalive!"

The engineer, grimy and hollow-eyed, called from his
one-man scoutcar, "No time for celebration, sergeant.
Let's get out of here before the Komani try to hit us
again."

Mclntyre grabbed a handhold on the cruiser's side and
hoisted himself upwards.

"They ain't gonna try anything now," he answered,
over his shoulder. "They've lost this battle, and they
know it."

The cruiser whined into life, lifted off the ground by
about a foot, and rumbled off with the battered, jubilant
troopers aboard. The engineer gunned his little scram-
bler and scooted up alongside, placing the crusier
between himself and the Komani.

Half a mile away, a Komani officer stood under a
cloudy, smoke-filled sky and spoke into his wrist
communicator:

"The main body of the Terran forces has reached the
summit of the hills. We will attack again if you order us
to, but my company is down to less man half its original
strength. The Terrans have the advantage of massed fire-
power, and their armored vehicles are faster than our
flyers, once they are in open country."

After a long wait, an utterly exhausted voice sounded
from the communicator, "Break off contact with the
enemy. Regroup your men. The battle is over."



XII

Sittas


It showered briefly at sunset, as the Mobile Force
streamed out to the rolling, open countryside. Then all
through the night clouds piled up thicker and darker
until, by dawn, it began to rain steadily.

Sittas heard the first drops strike the roof over his
head. The old priest was standing by a window on the
upper floor of the town hall of Matara, a tiny farming
vilfage a few miles from the valley of Carmeer.

He had turned the town hallthe only two-story
building in the villageinto an emergency hospital- Ter-
rans, Komani, and the few Shinarians who had been
wounded in the battle were being brought in. Sittas stood
by the window after a full night of dressing wounds and
blessing the dead, and watched the maimed and shat-
tered men still being brought through the muddy, rain-
spattered morning into the makeshift infirmary. When
would the pitiful parade end? Sittas had gathered every
doctor and every available boy and woman from miles
around. But they were few. terribly few, for this horrible
toll.

"It's not a very pretty sight, is it?"

Sittas turned and saw Altai at the door, a raincape over
her shoulders, her hair glistening wet.

"You are ... all rights?"

She nodded- "The Watchman kept his word. The Ter-
rans avoided firing on us- Only Merdon and his best
three squads got into the fighting, and they had to ride
piggyback on Komani flyers to reach the Terrans. Mer-
don could have stayed out of it altogether. The Watch-
man gave us that opportunity."

"Well, thank heaven that you are safe, and that more
of our people were not involved in the battle. Merdon
was not hurt, was he?"

"No, he's all right."

"Good."

Altai stepped over to the window and looked at the
steady line of wounded coming into the building.

"It was an awful battle, though. Even if our people
didn't have much to do with it."

"I know," the priest said. "Unless we can bring peace
to Shinar quickly, this will be only the first of many,
many battles, and our people will be fully involved in the
next ones."

"What do you intend to do?" she asked.

Sittas shook his head. "I'm not certain. That's the terri-
ble part of it. I don't know what to do next."

"You're tired," Altai said. "We all are. Time to sleep
now."

"But the wounded need help. ..."

She took him by the arm and steered him to a couch
along the far wall of the room. "The wounded don't need
someone who's about to fall asleep on them. Sleep now,
and you'll be much better able to help them when you
awake."

The old man sat on the edge of the couch. "You
remind me very much of'my sister .. . your mother. She
was very domineering, too, despite being much younger
than I."

Altai smiled at him. "Enough talking. Sleep," she said
firmly.

With a resigned shrug, Sittas kicked off his sandak and
stretched out on the couch. Altai put her raincape over
him, and walked softly out of the room. The lights went
off as she closed the door.

Squatting outside the pelting rain, a Komani warrior
eyed the town-hall-turned-hospital with the patient cun-
ning of a stalking panther. The old man is in there, the
warrior knew. Only the wounded, or Shinarian doctors and
helpers, were allowed inside. Sooner or later the old man
would come out. Then the warrior would kill him. Time
did not matter. The reason behind the warrior's orders
did not matter. All the warrior knew was that Sittas must
die. There was no other purpose for the Komani's exis-
tence but to cany out the order of death. Silently he sat
in the rain. his chin cupped in his massive hands, and
waited.

Sittas was awakened by the sounds of three Shinarian
youths trying to place a wounded Komani on a makeshift
pallet of blankets and coats. The town hall was overflow-
ing. The rain had stopped, and a late afternoon sun was
slanting through the windows. Outside, Sittas could see
that more wounded had been left on litters in the town
square.

The old priest immediately went downstairs, into the
welter of cots and pallets and doctors and weary, busy
women and boys who were attending the injured men.
Altai was among them.

"Here," Sittas said to his niece, as she tried to wrap a
bandage over a young Terran's arm. "I'll do that. You
find the town mayor and bring him here immediately."

The mayor was short, round and bland-faced. He lis-
tened patiently as Sittas explained what he wanted to do,
then replied with a shrug:

"The people probably won't want to bring wounded
foreigners into their homes, but I shall tell them that you
have asked them to do so. We shall see how they react."

The reaction was startling, even to Sittas. Nearly every
family in the tiny village showed up at the town square
and took at least one of the wounded men lying out on
the worn old paving stones. The casualties were all safety
indoors before night fell.

The mayor was amazed. "These people revere you,
Sittas."

The priest shook his head. "It is not me. They are
good-hearted people. I only pointed out how they could
help."

All through the night, with only an hour or so of rest,
Sittas attended "his" patients. Near dawn, one of the
doctors reported worriedly:

"We have just about stripped the entire district clean
of medical supplies. There's practically nothing left to go
on."

Altai, standing nearby her uncle, said, "Perhaps I can
get more."

As she went off toward the building's only tri-di trans-
ceiver, a Komani officer strode into the main entrance.
He looked across the sea of bedridden men that filled
the entiyway and stretched on into the other rooms.

"Which of you is in charge here?" he demanded of
the Shinarians.

Everyone turned toward Sittas.

"I am Sittas," the priest said, making his way toward
the Komani. He saw a trio of warriors standing just out-
side the doorway.

The Komani officer said, "In the name of Okatar Kang,
I claim the Terrans sheltered here as prisoners ..."

"Never!" Sittas snapped, with a vehemence that sur-
prised them all.

The old man walked up to the Komani. and, standing
barely as tall as the officer's breastbone, said furiously,
"This place is sanctuary for wounded men. Do you
understand? Sanctuary. Neither Okatar Kang nor the
Terran commander has any right to claim prisoners here.
The men here are no longer warriorsnot until they are
well enough to rejoin their companions. In this town the
war does not exist. Isn't it enough that you have killed
and crippled so many? Get out of hereyou smell of
death. Out!"

The Komani officer was forced back a step. Uncer-
tainly, he mumbled, "Well, if it's sanctuary ... we have
no quarrel with your religious feelings." He turned and
walked out. The three warriors followed him,

Outside, the Komani warrior who had been silently
waiting for almost three days, sat immobile and watched
the entrance to the town hall. For an instant Sittas was
framed in the doorway, and the warrior's hand slid to
the butt of his pistol, but then the priest turned away
and went back inside the building. The warrior grunted
to himself and relaxed. He did not stop watching.

News of sporadic fighting between the Terrans and
Komani trickled into the hospital that morning. The
Mobile Force was in the open country, and a few of
their scoutcars had brushed briefly with Komani patrols.

Near noontime a Terran supply van rumbled through
the dusty main street of Matara and stopped before the
town hall. A white flag flew from its whip antenna. A
lieutenant and five other Marines got out of the cab and
entered the building, looking for Sittas.

"We have a van full of medical supplies, sir," the lieu-
tenant told the priest. "Compliments of the Ten-an Impe-
rial Star Watch and Marine Corps."

As the Terrans, with a dozen Shinarian youths helping
them, unloaded the supplies, Sittas found Altai and said:

"I know this is your doing. But how did you accom-
plish it?"

She smiled at her uncle. "I phoned our people in Capi-
tal City. They saw to it that the Terran garrison there
learned of your need for medical help. The garrison
informed the Star Watchman, I suppose, and he sent the
supplies."

Sittas shook his head. "Lines of communication
become very strange in wartime."

Before the Terran van was unloaded completely, a
small civilian groundcar pulled up beside it- The driver
hopped out lightly, trotted around to the passenger's side,
and opened the door. A tall, broad-girthed, balding Shin-
arian stepped outClanthas.

He cocked an eye at the Terran vehicle, then walked
into the town hall. For several minutes he spoke to no
one, but merely paced slowly through the improvised
hospital, watching Shinarians tending the wounded Ter-
rans and Komani. He nodded to a few of the doctors,
grinned at the women and youths assisting them.

Finally, Clanthas spotted Sittas. The old priest was
standing on the balcony that ran around three sides of
the large, ground-level room that had been the town
hall's main auditorium. Clanthas climbed the stairs
slowly, yet he was still puffing a bit when he reached the
top.

Sittas was locked in a discussion with one of the
doctors.

"All right, they're well enough to leave and rejoin the
rest of the Terrans," the doctor was saying. "But how do
you get them back to their own men safely, without the
Komani stopping them?"

"We can put them on the Terran van, outside," Sittas
replied.

"And what about tomorrow, or the day after?"

"We can ask the Terrans leaving today to have their
commander keep in touch with us by tri-di. When we
are ready to release more of them, they can send another
vehicle, under a truce flag."

"And you expect the Komani to honor the flag of
truce?"

Sittas nodded. "They know that their own wounded
are being tended here. If they do anything to disrupt our
work, their own men will suffer for it."

The doctor shrugged. "I hope you're right. . ., Very
well. I'll tell the Terran lieutenant that we'll have a few
men for him to take back with him."

"Good."

As the doctor turned to find the lieutenant, Clanthas
stepped up to the old priest

"You do not know me. My name is Clanthas."

Sittas' wrinkled face broke into a smile. "Clanthas of
Katan? The merchant who organized the first protests
and demonstrations against the Terrans?"

Clanthas nodded, with a rueful grin. "I did help to get
the movement started; it has gone much farther than I
expected."

"Yes. But your aims and ideals were good ones, I am
honored to meet you."

"Thank you."

"You are looking for your son, Merdon? He is not
here, but he is well and happy."

"Yes, I know. I spoke with Merdon on tri-di last night.
Actually, I came here to see you, and this hospital. News
of what you have done is spreading all over Shinar. You
have become a national hero, Sittas."

"Me?" Sittas laughed. "An unlikely hero, I must say.
I have done practically nothing. It is the doctors, and the
good people of this town. And the Terran commander,
too; he sent us a van-load of medical supplies."

"Yes, I know. My driver parked next to the Terran
van. Fortunately, they don't know who I am."

Altai hurried up the stairs to her uncle. "Excuse me.

The Terrans have finished unloading. Their lieutenant
wants to speak with you."

"Ah yes; and there are several things I want to talk
over with him." Sittas turned back to Clanthas. "Will you
pardon me for a moment?"

"Certainly."

The priest gestured toward the girl. "My niece, Altai,
will be glad to show you around the building and to
answer any questions you may have. Altai, this is Clanthas
of Katan, Merdon's father."

"Merdon's father?" Altai gasped as Sittas started down
the stairs. Her hands flew to her hair. "I. ... I must look
terrible. These slacks and this old blouse . .. you must
excuse my appearance. I had no idea .. ."

Clanthas chuckled at her. "I wasn't expecting to find
you in a ball gown. Merdon has told me quite a bit about
you. You are as lovely as he said you were."

"Oh ... thank you."

They began to talk, mostly about Merdon, and were
deep in conversation when Sittas returned.

"I have decided to accompany the Terrans back to the
Mobile Force," the old man said. "The lieutenant has
told me that the Star Watchman has assumed command
of all Terran units on Shinar. He has asked to see me,
and I believe it might be helpful to go to him, now that
he has such power in his hands."

"I've heard some rumors about a Watchman on the
planet," Clanthas said. "You know him?"

Sittas nodded. "Altai can tell you about it. I must hurry
off, the Terrans are anxious to leave."

The old priest, flanked by the Terran lieutenant and
five troopers left, the building and climbed into the cab
of the bulky supply van. The Komani warrior who had
been waiting in the town square watched with helpless
fury. He could not get a good shot at the old man with
six Terrans surrounding him, and he could not get close
enough to use a grenade without the Terrans stopping
him.

As the supply van whined to life and lifted off the
lavement, the Komani wearily trudged back to his own
lyer, resting in an alley off the square. Perhaps he could
catch up with the van in the open country. If the Terrans
were not alert, he could execute the old man, and get a
half-dozen Terrans in the bargain.



XIII

Vorgens


Sittas eyed the Star Watchman critically as they sat in
the tiny compartment aboard the dreadnaught. The
priest had never before been inside a vehicle of such
size, yet he was most amazed'at how much the Terrans
were able to squeeze into the big groundcar.

Vorgens' quarters, where they were sitting, was typical.
The bunk was folded into the bulkhead; the webbed
chairs and table had been slid out of the same opening
that the bunk fitted into. The short side of the compart-
ment was taken up with a translucent viewscreen,
another wall had a stereomap scanner built into it. The
furniture was stored in the third wall, and the fourth was
barely wide enough to accommodate the door that led
into the passageway. The ceiling was covered with light-
panels, There must have been a clothes closet in the
compartment, but Sittas could not determine where it
might be-

His inspection of the compact room took only a
moment. As he shook hands with Vorgens and they both
sat down facing each other, Sittas could see that the
Watchman had changed.

It was nothing obvious, but Vorgens looked somehow
different. He seemed well and hearty enough, but there
were tiny lines around his eyes, and his face was slightly
thinner, tauter. There was a different air about him. The
Watchman was no longer a troubled, bewildered youth
thrown into the middle of a world he could not under-
stand. He was a Star Watch officer, in command of the
Terran forces on this planet. He had accepted the
responsibility of command, and had discovered at last
that he could, to a degree, take that world into his own
hands and begin to shape it for himself.

"I hear you were attacked on your way to join us,"
Vorgens said, hunching forward slightly in the webbed
chair.

Sittas shook his head. "You could hardly call it an
attack. Your troopers discovered a lone Komani warrior
following our van. They fired a few beams at him, and
he shot a small missile at us, which a trooper disposed
of with another beamgun. Then the Komani dropped out
of range."

"But he continued to follow you?"

"Yes. Until we reached the scoutcars at the perimeter
of your encampment."

Vorgens laughed. "We're not camped here. Sittas,
we're merely stopped for a few hours. I've been keeping
the Mobile Force on the move constantly since we broke
out of the valley."

"Then it is true that you have assumed command."

"I had to," the Watchman answered, serious now.
"Aikens would not listen to reason. There was no one
else to whom I could turn. I decided that I had more
information about the situation than anyone else, so I
took charge."

"A Star Watch officer has such authority?"

"I do, now. Whether or not I had the right to take
such authority into my own hands is a matter that will be
settled by a Star Watch court, sometime in the future."

Sittas leaned back in his webbed chair. "The lieutenant
you sent to Matara with the medical supplies said that
you wanted to see me."

"That's right," Vorgens replied. "First, I want to thank
you again for your part in saving my lifeand the lives
of all the men in mis Mobile Force. Nothing that we
could do can ever repay the debt we all owe you."

Sittas waved a hand of protest. "That is all in the past.
It is tomorrow that interests meand you, I should
judge."

"Yes, tomorrow, and all the days that come after," Vor-
gens agreed. He hesitated for a moment, framing the
right words in his mind, then asked, "If I invited the
leaders of the Shinarian rebel movement to a truce con-
ference here, would they come?"

The old priest shook his head. "No, I doubt that they
would."

"Suppose I went to Capital City and asked them to
meet with me there?"

"They would still smell a trap," Sittas answered- "They
realize perfectly well that you do not know who they are.
Why should they expose themselves?"

"I know Merdon,"

"Everyone on the planet knows Merdon. But he is
only one of the leaders. He commands the youngest, and
the most aggressive of the rebels, but there are many
other groupsin the cities, in the hills, among the farm-
ing villages. They do not make up an army, as Merdon's
people do, but they will fight in their own ways for Shi-
nar's freedom. These are the people you must reach, and
these are the leaders you do not know."

"Then help me to meet them," Vorgens pleaded ear-
nestly, "They trust you Tell them that I want to discuss
a peace settlement with them. Tell them that I'll meet
them in Capital City, if they like, and they'll be guaran-
teed freedom from arrest."

Sittas stroked his chin thoughtfully. "They will still be
revealing themselves to you. What's to stop you from
having them arrested after the conference?"

"My word," Vorgens replied, "and your trust in me."

"You are putting it up to me to bring the rebel leaders
to your conference table," the old man mused.

"You're the one man on this planet that both sides can
trust."

"That is very flattering."

"And very true."

Sittas shrugged. "I suppose you have the right idea.
We can lose nothing by trying."

"Good!" Vorgens grinned broadly. "You have the
Mobile Force's communications equipment at your
disposal."

"Yes, using the tri-di would be faster than contacting
each man in person. If they are not afraid to appear on
tri-di and run the risk of having you Terrans trace their
whereabouts."

Vorgens shook his head. "They have to take some risks.
Peace isn't built on flowers and handshakes alone."

It took four days to arrange the conference. Four days
in which the Mobile Force, spread across the countryside
like a moving cloud of giant insects, covered more than
three hundred miles and fought six skirmishes with
Komani attackers.

One of the clashes was fairly serious. A full battalion
of Komani swooped down on a temporarily disabled light
cruiser and two repair vans, just as dawn was breaking.
The cruiser and her escorts were in the rear of the Ter-
ran formation, separated from the rest of the Mobile
Force by a broad, swift-running river with thick woods
on the far bank. The Komani reasoned that they could
overwhelm the stragglers before any other Terran vehi-
cles could get back to help.

The Komani warriors slashed across the sky with the
sun at their backs and caught the surprised Terrans in
the open. Before they could scramble into their vehicles,
half the Terrans were killed or wounded, and one of the
repair vans was in flames. The men aboard the cruiser
quickly started to tight back, though, and frantically
called for help.

The cruiser was being pounded by grenades, and the
second repair van was badly damaged, when the Komani
attackers were startled by movements in the woods across
the river.

Trees seemed to be toppling, bursting into flame,
exploding. As the turmoil approached the river bank, the
Komani could see that a pair of battle cruisers was
smashing through the woods, using their force beams to
destroy the trees in front of them.

Finally the cruisers burst through the woods and
started down the bank of the river. They did not pause
a moment at the water, but skimmed right across, com-
pletely indifferent to the material underneath them.

As the Komani started to face the counterattack,
another pair of Terran cruisers fell on them from the
flank. The attackers were decimated; only a handful
escaped the Terran envelopment.

Attacks on straggling vehicles ceased after that action.

The conference room that Sittas had picked was actu-
ally part of a church building. The room, warmly
appointed in polished Shinarian wood, stood off to one
side of the main chapel. It was a small chamber, with a
central oblong table surrounded by leather-padded, high-
backed chairs.

Vorgens sat at one side of the table, flanked by Ser-
geant Mclntyrewhom the Watchman had made his
personal aideand Sittas. The priest introduced the
eight Shinarians who sat across the table.

"And the spokesmen for all the groups represented at
this meeting," Sittas concluded, "is Cianthas of Katan."

Clanthas nodded pleasantly.

"You are Merdon's father?" Vorgens asked.

"Yes, I am."

"I can see the family resemblance. The commander of
the city garrison has told me quite a bit about you."

Clanthas answered evenly, "I could tell you quite a bit
about the commander."

"I imagine you could," Vorgens said, grinning.

"We are ready to begin," Clanthas said, "if you are."

"Is Merdon going to be here, or are you representing
him?"

Clanthas' broad face clouded over. "I do not know if
Merdon intends to join this conference or not. No one
here represents him, or his group."

"I will represent Merdon,"

Vorgens turned round in his chair and saw Altai stand-
ing in the arched doorway of the conference room. She
was still wearing a "field uniform" of slacks and tunic,
but somehow she looked more feminine than Vorgens
had ever seen her to be.

The men rose from their seats. Altai went to the chair
next to her uncle's and Sergeant Mclntyre stepped over
and held the chair as she sat down.

"I believe, then," Vorgens said, "that all the factions
on Shinar are representedwith the exception of the
Komani, who are not noticeably enthusiastic about truce
conferences."

They all murmured agreement.

"The purpose of this meeting is quite simple," the
Watchman began. "Everyone here, I think, wants peace
for Shinar. The question is: what is the cost of peace?"

"Merdon's price for peace is well known," Altai said.

"He has instructed me to tell you that he will stop fight-
ing when the Terrans leave Shinar. Freedom is his price."

Vorgens nodded. "And the official Terran price for
peace is submission to the Empire. The Marines were
sent to this planet to smash the rebellion and restore
order under Terran terms."

One of the Shinarians protested, "Surely you cannot
have called us here merely to tell us this!"

"Of course not," Vorgens replied. "I'm only trying to
show that inflexibility on either side will only prolong the
fighting." Turning to Altai, he asked, "Doesn't Merdon
realize by now that if the Terrans should leave Shinar,
your planet would become a prize for the Komani?"

Altai glanced at her uncle, then answered, "Merdon
believes that once the Terrans are driven off Shinar, Oka-
tar Kang will want to attack the Empire somewhere else.
He believes that we can be strong enough to prevent the
Komani from overpowering us."

"You know the rebel situation as well as Merdon does.
Do you believe this too?"

"Merdon is our chief. He knows better than I."

"But do you agree with him?" Vorgens asked.

After a long pause, she said, "I'm only a girl. My opin-
ion counts for very little."

Clanthas broke into the conversation. "Perhaps I
should recapitulate the history of this rebellion. It started
when the Empire began installing nutrient processing
plants and uprooting our farmers. We appealed to the
Terran governor, to no avail. We organized demonstra-
tions, and the governor used troops to suppress us. Riots
broke out. Many of the younger peoplemy son among
themdecided to fight force with force. The governor
was assassinated. The Marines were called in. The
younger rebels asked the Komani to help us...."

"And here we are," Sittas murmured.

"Exactly," Clanthas said. "The situation is completely
out of control. All we want is for Shinar to be left in
peace. We do not want to become a cog in your Empire.
Neither do we want to become vassals of the Komani.
Yet the Terrans and the Komani are fighting over us,
turning our own world into a battleground. No matter
who wins, we will lose."

"All we want is to be left alone," said another
Shinarian.

Vorgens answered, quietly and patiently, "That is a
dream that will not come to pass in my lifetime or in
yours. Shinar will not be left alone. It can't be left alone,
no matter how much you wish it to be. If the Terrans
don't make you part of their Empire, the Komani or
someone else will. The simple truth is that Shinar is not
powerful enough to remain completely independent. You
never were. Before the Terrans, you were ruled by the
Masters, remember. You were never alone. No nation is.
Or could be."

"Then what choice do we have?" a Shinarian blurted
miserably. "Must we stand meekly by and watch you and
the Komani rip our world to pieces in a battle to see
which of you will be our overlord?"

"Your choice." Vorgens reasoned, "is one of degree. It
may be possible. I think, for you to work out some system
of self-government within the Terran Empire. I know that
other nations have done this. I can't see why Shinar
couldn'tin time. Within the Empire, there is the hope
of eventual self-government. Not the total freedom that
Merdon wants, perhaps, but a good part of it. Under
the Komani, you have nothing to look forward to except
destruction and death."

Sittas countered. "The Terrans have never permitted
us the luxury of hoping for self-government before."

"I know, and you have no official promise of it now,
only my own feeling that, if we can act boldly and suc-
cessfully in the next few weeks, the Empire might be
more favorably disposed to hear your case."

Clanthas' eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

"Simply this. The Mobile Force can't defeat the
Komani here on Shinar by itself. We can defend our-
selves, and that's about all. Reinforcements are on their
way, but Okatar Kang could ravage this planet quite thor-
oughly before they get here. If you want to prevent the
Komani from destroying your world, you must help me
to fight against them-

"Okatar has one weakness. He must win, here on Shi-
nar. He must win quickly and decisively. If he can be
held at bay, frustrated, kept off balance, then his dream
of glory will soon fade. The other Komani clans will not
ally themselves with him- Perhaps even his own people
will become tired of fighting a fruitless war. Then, when
the Star Watch reinforcements arrive, you, yourselves,
will have achieved already a large part of the victory.

"The choice is yours to make. Either you fight for your
own world, with the Terrans and against the Komani, or
you allow the Komani to take over your planet, and you
give them the springboard they want to touch off a galac-
tic war."

One of the Shinarians asked, "Do you think that, if we
help your troops fight the Komani, the Empire will look
with favor on your request to govern ourselves?"

"I think they might, but I can't guarantee it."

"You ask us to risk much for only the hope of free-
dom." Clanthas said.

"Men have risked everything time and again," Vorgens
shot back, "for the hope of freedom. It's the only hope
you have."

Altai laughed softly. "What you're saying is that the
threat of the Komani will force the Terrans to treat us
with respect."

"I am saying," Vorgens answered firmly, "that your
own courage and self-respect are the only tools you have
for achieving freedom. It's your choice. You must decide."

"May I point out," Sittas said, "that we have here an
official of the Terran Empire telling us to make our own
decision about our own fate. That in itself is a milestone."

The little group remained silent for a moment.

Finally Clanthas said, "You are right. Watchman. It is
a decision we must make for ourselves. Such a decision
is not easily arrived at. We must have time to think. To
discuss- You understand that?"

"Of course," Vorgens said. "But you must understand
that time is precious, to all of us."

Clanthas nodded. He rose from his chair, and everyone
else got up.

"We will give you our answer within a few days."

"Good enough," Vorgens said.

More than an hour later, as their speedy little skimmer
raced across the grassy countryside back to the main
body of the Mobile Force, Mclntyre said:

"I just hope that Star Watch Headquarters really does
decide to send the reinforcements you told the natives
we were gettin'."

"So do I, Sergeant," Vorgens answered fervently. "So
do I."



XIV

Poles Apart


The yellow sun of Shinar glittered brazenly on the sea
and pressed its warmth into the long, curving, white
beach. But the six young Shinarians trudging slowly along
the sand paid no attention to the brilliant sun, nor to the
steady, stiff breeze coming off the water, and the crash-
ing surf that it propelled.

"And that's all that the Watchman had to say?" Mer-
don asked, rhetorically.

Altai nodded. "It seemed to be a good beginning."

"Beginning?" Merdon laughed. "He's just asking us to
gp right back to where we started."

"How did the other leaders take to his proposal?"
Tarat asked.

"They seemed"she hunted for the right word
"impressed."

"When you boil down to essentials," Merdon said, "the
Watchman is asking us to help the Empire fight off the
Komani. In return for this, he promises to do his best
to get the Imperial bureaucracy to considerconsider,
mind yougiving us some measure of freedom in the
undetermined future."

"What more can he do for us?" Altai asked.

"More? He hasn't done anything. Not a thing. The
conference was a farce."

"Well, maybe not," Romal piped. "The Watchman is
giving us a chance to prove to the Terrans that we can
take care of ourselves. After all, wouldn't the Empire be
indebted to us if we helped to stop the Komani threat?"

Merdon glared down at his little quartermaster.

"What other choices do we have?" Altai insisted. "The
Komani haven't crushed the Mobile Force. The chances
are that the war will go on for some timeuntil either
the Terrans or the Komani bring enough reinforcements
to Shmar to overpower the other. If we wait until that
happens, we'll be at the mercy of the winner, whichever
it may be."

"Not if we help the Komani to smash the Terrans."

Tarat objected, "But the Empire is probably sending
more troops here. We can't fight the whole Star Watch!"

"There are no reinforcements on their way here,"
Merdon answered flatly. "Okatar Kang is certain of that,
and so am I."

"How do you know?"

"He has his ways of finding out. Shinar is just a tiny
pebble to the Terrans. They won't risk more men here
until they realize that there's much more than our single
planet involved. By the time they make up their minds,
it'll be too late."

"All this might have been true." Altai said, "if we had
beaten the Mobile Force in the valley of Carmeer. But
we haven't. The Mobile Force is still here, as strong as
ever. The Watchman can fight the Komani indefinitely,
if he has to."

"Thanks to you." Merdon snapped.

Altai stared at him, stunned.

-?,/

'%n
^

"Well, you let him escape from the Komani. We had
the Terrans boxed in, but he pulled them out of the trap.
We had a chance to get rid of the Terrans, and you
worked for them, instead of for us."

For several moments, no one spoke.

Finally Altai replied, in a voice trembling with pain
and anger, "If I hadn't helped the Watchman, if we had
fought the battle that you were hoping to fight, most of
us would be dead right now, and Okatar would be ruling
this planet."

"Shinar would be free, you mean."

"No, Merdon, you're wrong. If we must choose between
the Terrans and the Komani, I will go with the Terrans."

"What about freedom for Shinar?"

"There are more ways to obtain freedom than with a
gun," she said.

Merdon looked at the four youths, watching them wait-
ing for his next reaction.

"All right, then," he said, with a deadly calm, "you can
go with the Terrans if you like. I won't stop you."

Without another word, Altai turned her back on Mer-
don and walked away. In shocked silence, the others
watched her stride up the beach, toward the groundcars
parked on the grassy dunes above.

"If any of the rest of you feel the same way, now's the
time to say it."

The four young lieutenants glanced uneasily at each
other. Ron shuffled his weight from one foot to the other,
then blurted out, "I'm sony, Merdon. She's right and
you're not. I'm going with her."

He broke into a run, following Altai's footsteps.

Tarat shook his head- "There'U be others joining them
when they hear about this."

"Let them go," growled Merdon, furious, "They'll
crawl back to us when we've freed Shinar."

Altai climbed up the dune and reached the groundcar
without noticing Ron following her. She opened the door
of the little bubble-topped car and dropped into the driv-
er's seat. Only then did she allow herself to break into
the tears that she had been holding back.

Okatar Kang paced his tent like a caged jungle beast,
while his council of nobles sat passively at their long
table and watched their chieftain.

"So the Terrans have been talking with the native lead-
ers, have they? These spineless Shinarians blow with the
wind- When we had me Terrans trapped, they were
pleased with us. Now that there is more fighting to be
done, they're not so sure."

"The natives are no immediate threat to us. Lord Oka-
tar," said one of the nobles. "It is the Terrans."

"The Terrans!" Okatar spat- "They're lucky to be alive,
and they know it. They are merely trying to protect
themselves; they are no danger."

"But still, they have a powerful force."

"I wish they would offer us battle," Okatar said. "We
would overwhelm them, once and for all. But, no, instead
they retreat, they flee from us- Very well. Let them run."

"What have you in mind?"

Okatar stopped his pacing and faced the council table.
"We are going to make this planet feel the full might of
the Komani. Until now we have attempted to deal with
the Shinarians as allies. But they have betrayed us- Now
we shall treat them as subjects. This planet is ours for
the taking, and I intend to take what we want from it."

"What about the Shinarian forces still allied to us?"

"They have plotted against us. Merdon and his chil-
dren's army have hoped that we would drive off the Ter-
rans, and then be so weakened that they could drive us
off."

"Do you intend to force Merdon to join the Terrans?"

"That, he will never do. No, I intend to offer him a
bargaina bargain on Komani terms. He can still serve
with us, but as a subject, not an ally. When we are finished
with Shinar, he can take control of the planet, but he
will be our subject."

"If he refuses this bargain?"

"He will die."

"And the Terrans?"

Okatar smiled fiercely. "We shall start a campaign of
terror and looting that will turn this planet upside-down.
We shall take what we need and what we want from the
Shinarian countryside and the towns that have no Terran
garrison. Sooner or later, the Terrans will be forced to
offer us battle. They will stop running and try to attack
our forces; possibly they will attempt to attack this camp.
When they mass, we will mass. When they attempt to
strike at us, we will destroy them!"

"In the meantime, we will be gathering supplies and
equipment from the natives."

"Exactly so," Okatar said. "With every day, our
strength will grow, and the Shinarians' dread of our
power will grow equally. With every day, the Terrans will
become weaker."

As the exec sat in Vorgens' quarters and listened to
what the Star Watchman was telling him, his eyes wid-
ened more and more, until white showed almost all the
way around them.

"II can't believe you mean what you're saying," the
exec protested.

Sergeant Mclntyre, standing at the doorway to the tiny
cubicle, nodded grimly. "Neither could I, when he told
me, sir. Can't you talk him outta doin' it?"

Vorgens half turned in his webbed chair and surveyed
the sergeant with a wry smile. "My aide, here." he said
to the exec, "said he thinks the idea is crazy."

"It's certainly .. . unusual," the exec said, lamely.

The smile faded from Vorgens' face. "Unusual or not,
do you think the idea is sound?"

"From a military point of view, yes sir, I do," the
exec admitted, nodding. "But from your own personal
point"

"That's my problem," Vorgens said, abruptly getting
up from the webbed chair. "All right, if it's sound mili-
tarily, we've got to do it. Let's go."

"Now?" Mclntyre asked.

"Right now, and I want the two of you along as
witnesses."

With a frown on his beefy face, Mclntyre led the way
down the narrow passage to Brigadier Aikens' quarters.
When the sergeant hesitated at the door, Vorgens
knocked-

"Come."

Mclntyre opened the door, and the three of them
stepped in. Aikens was lying in his bunk, reading a report
projected overhead.

The brigadier cocked an eye at Vorgens, then swung
up to a sitting position- The projector automatically shut
off.

"To what do I owe this honor?"

"Was that the Officer of the Day's report you were
scanning?" Vorgens asked.

"That's right. I like to keep up on what you're doing
with my men. Any objections?"

"No. None at all.... May we come in?"

Aikens gestured to the unfolded writing desk and the
pair of webbed chairs Hanking it. "Make yourself at
home- You're in command, aren't you?"

Mclntyre could see Vorgens' whole body stiffen at the
brigadier's sarcasm. The Watchman took one of the
chairs. The exec and the sergeant remained standing.

"I trust you've been physically comfortable," Vorgens
said.

"Don't play games with me. Watchman. You're up to
something. Now what is it?"

"You've been keeping track of the Mobile Force's
actions." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, of course."

"Good, I've been thinking over the situation for the
past two days, and I've come to a decision ..."

"And you expect me to give you advice? Don't waste
your time."

Vorgens clenched his fists. For a moment, he said
nothing. Then, with a visible effort to remain calm, he
resumed, "I'm not looking for advice, but I do have a
question to ask you. Your answer will affect the lives of
the men of this Mobile Force, and the lives of every
man, woman and child on Shinar."

For the first time, Aikens looked directly at the Watch-
man. "Well?"

"I want to know if you're willing to resume command
of the Mobile Force."

Aikens' eyes flashed for an instant. Then he asked
slowly, "Resume command? What brought you to that
decision? You made it pretty clear that I'm unfit to
command."

"Brigadier, don't make this any harder than it has to
be. I assumed command because I represent the author-
ity of Star Watch Headquarters, and you were unwilling
to follow the policies expressed by my orders."

Aikens glared at the Watchman, but said nothing.

"It's quite obvious," Vorgens went on, "that my train-
ing as a Star Watch officer can never match your experi-
ence as a commander in the field. I took over the
command of this Force because it was the only way to
get us out of the Komani trap- But I have no delusions
about my ability to direct a full-scale planetary action.
The situation calls for an able, experienced field com-
mander. Are you willing to resume command, or not?"

The brigadier grinned humoriessly. "I knew you'd be
handing the ball back to me sooner or later. You haven't
got the backbone for this land of responsibility."

Strangely, Vorgens smiled back at the older man, "Per-
haps you don't understand me," he said. "I want you to
resume command of the Mobile Force . . . under my
authority. I am in charge of all Terran forces on Shinar,
and until a higher-ranking Watchman reaches the planet,
I shall remain in command. I'm offering you tactical con-
trol of the Mobile Force; strategic decisions will be made
by me."

"You ... you ..." Aikens' face glowered red, and the
rage seemed to well up in his throat, choking him.
"You're offering metactical commandunder your
authority! II'll ..."

"Before you say anything else," Vorgens warned, his
voice suddenly as sharp as a cutting beam, "I'll be forced
to turn over the job to the executive officer, if you don't
accept the command."

Aikens half rose off the edge of the bunk, then sat
down again. His face turned a mottled purphsh color.

"I'm sorry that it has to be this way," Vorgens said,
more gently, "but I can't see any other way."

"All right. Watchman," Aikens said, after several
moments' silence, "I'll resume command of the Mobile
Force- I'll pull your little carcass out of the fire ... and
when we've settled this business on Shinar, I'll call for a
court-martial so fast your head will swim."

Vorgens nodded, "I'm sure a court of inquiry will be
necessary to straighten out our differences. But, for the
moment, let's hope we can both rise above our personal
feelings."

"I'm a soldier, youngster; I know how to keep my
feelings to myself when it's for the good of the men. But
don't have any illusions. We're poles apart, you and me,
Now and always. Understand?"

"Perfectly."

Vorgens walked back to the dreadnaught's control cen-
ter in silence. His face was immobile. He felt empty and
drained of emotion.

It was a complete surprise to see Altai sitting at an
untended control desk. The trooper on watch said to
Vorgens:

"She just showed up at one of the scoutcars on the
perimeter and said she wanted to see you, sir. Wouldn't
talk to anyone else."

The Watchman went to her. Altai's face was outwardly
calm, but Vorgens could sense the tenseness within her.
Her dark eyes showed no trace of the tears she had been
shedding.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked, sitting down next
to her.

"I've left Merdon," she said quietly. "Several squads
of our fighters have decided to join you and fight against
the Komani. They are waiting for your orders,"

"I see. And Merdon?"

"He ..." For just an instant it seemed her self-control
would crack. "He refuses to change his mind. He will
fight against you, he says, until Shinar is free."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Vorgens replied, "and sorrier
still to see you soupset. He means very much to you,
doesn't he?"

"Once he did," she said. "Now, we couldn't be farther
apart if we were on opposite ends of the world."

Vorgens smiled at her.

"What's so funny?"

"It's not funny, merely an odd coincidence. Someone
just told me that I was poles apart from him."

"You? You're among your own men, why should you
worry about one person?"

"He's a very important person. And as far as being
among my own men ... I'm among strangers. With the
exception of two or three people, I've known you and
your uncle longer than any of the men here."

"You're as alone as I am," Altai said.

"Yes," Vorgens agreed. "That's right."



XV

Choices and Plans


The Komani warrior sat under a tree at the crest of a
hill overlooking Shinar's Capital City. He had lost track
of the days since he had first started hunting the old
priest, first at the town of Matara, then along the road
to the Mobile Force's camp, and finally here at the city.

He could not follow his prey into the city, of course.
The Terran garrison would shoot him on sight. So he
waited, living off terrified fanners and villagers nearby,
sleeping in me open, waiting with remorseless patience.
Sooner or later, the priest would leave the city, and he
could be attacked or killed.

As he sat with his broad back against the sturdy shade
tree, the warrior studied the city spread out on the plain
below. It was the biggest collection of buildings he had
ever seen, even larger than the rare clan gatherings of
the Komani, which covered whole valleys with bubble-
tents.

A thought drifted across his mind like a dark cloud:

What if the priest left the city by a road other than the
one he came in on? There were many roads into and
out of the city. What if the priest was no longer there,
and had escaped?

The warrior pondered over the matter. The priest did
not know he was being stalked. There was no reason for
him to leave the city stealthily. On the other hand, there
was no reason for him to choose the road the Komani
was watching.

After a long struggle with the problem, the warrior
finally made a decision. He would return to Matara. If
the priest left the city, he was bound to turn up at the
hospital again, sooner or later. Time was of no impor-
tance. And, besides, at Matara there were many other
Komani available for companionship,

The warrior rose, took a last look at Capital City, and
turned toward Matara,

Vorgens sat at the command desk in the deserted con-
trol center and sifted through the morning's reports. The
Komani were stepping up their activities; strikes against
the perimeter of the Mobile Force, raids against isolated
villages and farms, even a hit-and-run attack on one of
the larger cities. They were spreading terror and destruc-
tion all around Shinar.

As he read through the reports, Vorgens' mind kept
turning over other problems- Aikens had not come out
of his quarters since their conversation, three days ago.
If the brigadier was willing to take tactical command of
the Mobile Force, he had yet to show it. The rebels still
had not contacted him, even though more than a week
had gone by since their conference in Capital City.

Altai stepped through one of the hatches and entered
the control center.

"Are you busy?" she asked.

"Not terribly. Have your people found adequate
quarters?"

She nodded as she made her way through the compact
maze of desks and consoles and sat down beside the
Watchman. "Yes, there's an old monastery nearby. Once
the monks learned that Sittas is my uncle, they allowed
us to stay. The boys sleep in the cellar, the girls in the
barn."

Vorgens grinned. "Sounds charming. But, you know,
we won't be in this area much longer. Do you intend to
follow us, or stay here?"

"I think we'll stay here for the time beinguntil we
decide on what to do."

"We've all got some decisions to make, and not much
more time to waste before we make them. The Komani
are beginning to run wild all over the planet."

"I know," she said. "Have you received any further
word from Star Watch Headquarters about reinforce-
ments?"

"Nothing definite," Vorgens admitted. "Reinforce-
ments are being prepared, but I can't get firm word on
how much and how soon."

The desktop viewscreen at his elbow chimed softly.
Vorgens touched the control stud.

"Message for you, sir. From Capital City."

"Is it the garrison commander?"

"Relayed through his office, sir. But the message is
from a native. Clanthas ..."

"Put him through!"

Vorgens glanced at Altai as the viewscreen began to
glow with color. She looked as excited as he felt.

Clanthas' broad, slightly jowly face filled the screen.
"A good day to you. Watchman. And to you, Altai."

"And the same to you," Vorgens replied. "I've been
waiting for your call."

The merchant assumed a slightly apologetic expression.
"It took somewhat longer than I expected, but I think
you'll find my news worth the waiting." He paused dra-
matically. "The other leaders and I have decided to take
you at your word. We will help you and work against the
Komani in whatever way possible."

Only now did Vorgens realize he had been holding his
breath. He exhaled slowly and murmured, "You did it."

"Don't overestimate my powers of persuasion," Clan-
thas said. "Most of the leaders were dead set against
working with the Empire. Even now the best that can be
said is that they are going ahead with grave misgivings, but
with the Komani killing and looting everywhere ... we
really have no choice."

"Except surrendering to the Komani."

"We discussed that possibility," Clanthas admitted
cheerfully, "and rejected it. We will help youor allow you
to help us, depending on how you look at the matter."

"We will work together to defeat the Komani and
bring peace to Shinar," Vorgens said, firmly.

"And then what?" Altai asked.

Vorgens turned to her. "Then we will work together
just as hard to give your people the freedom for which
they are fighting."

"Amen to that," Clanthas said. "Well ... now that
we're at your disposal, what are your plans for us? Most
of my people are not organized into fighting groups, the
way Merdon's units are. But they can help to defend
themselves, if you'll show them what to do, and give
them some weapons."

Vorgens nodded. "Our plans haven't crystallized yet.
But your decision should certainly clarify our thinking.
I'll call you back as soon as we have drawn up a compre-
hensive picture- Will you remain in Capital City?"

"I think not," Clanthas said. "I'm going back to Katan."

"Is my uncle still with you?"

"He was, until this morning. Helped tremendously in
convincing the other leaders that you were trustworthy,
too. He started back to the hospital at Matara this mom-
ing. Should be there by nightfall."

The three of them chatted for a few minutes longer.

When Clanthas' image had faded from the viewscreen,
Vorgens touched a button and called for Mclntyre-

The Sergeant's face took form on the screen,

"Please give my compliments to Brigadier Aikens and
ask him to meet me in the control center as soon as
possible. Tell him that the native leaders have decided
to work with us, and we must draw up a battle 'plan
immediately."

"Yes sir," said the sergeant.

Within a half an hour, Aikens, the executive officer,
and the top officers of the Mobile Force's staff were
crowding the control center. Vorgens was still at the com-
mand desk, with Altai beside him and Mclntyre standing
behind.

"I have already drawn up two tactical plans," Aikens
said, with a slightly malicious emphasis on me word tacti-
cal. He dropped two thick notebooks on Vorgens' desk.

"One of the plans is based on the assumption that the
natives will not aid us, and I assume that such an assump-
tion is now outdated."

"That's right," Vorgens said.

"Very well then." Aikens tapped on the cover of one
of the notebooks. "This is the plan to use, in that case."

Vorgens opened the book and thumbed through it.
"Very detailed," he said. Then looking up at the briga-
dier, he asked. "Would you care to give me a brief run-
down on the main features of the plan?"

"It's quite simple," the brigadier said. "Have you ever
seen what happens when you put a drop of ink into a
glass of clear water?"

Vorgens' eyebrows arched, and his forehead wrinkled.
"Why ... the color spreads through the whole glass."

"Exactly. Now suppose that the glass of water is a
certain district of this planet, open to attack by the
Komani. And the drop of ink"

"The drop of ink would be a unit of Marines," Vorgens
said.

^
'

"Very good. Watchman! You're quite astute today."

Vorgens' eyes flashed angrily for a moment, then he
regained his self-control and answered, "I have my
moments- Evidently what you're proposing to do is to
split up the Mobile Force into small units and spread
them through Shinar."

"Right," Aikens said. "Each unit will be strong enough
to fend off a Komani raiding party, and the units will be
spaced close enough together so that one group could
come to the aid of another, in case the Komani mount
an unusually heavy attack."

"And what if the Komani mass a really large force,
such as they did in Carmeer?"

It was Aikens' turn to flush with anger. For a moment
he said nothing- Then, finally, "We will depend to some
extent on the natives for intelligence reports. If we learn
that the Komani are massing for a fuu-scale battle, we
will also mass our forces."

"Fine," Vorgens said. "Now, how much territory can
we protect in this manner?"

Aikens took up the notebook from Vorgens' desk and
rifled to a page toward the back. "We analyzed the cruis-
ing speed of our vehicles, the logistics problem, our
response time to an attack-alert, and other factors ...
the computer came up with an answer." He showed the
page of computations to the Watchman. "We can cover
roughly half the populated area of the planet."

"And the other half?"

Aikens shrugged his shoulders.

"Have you assumed that the natives would be armed?"

"No."

"Suppose we armed them and trained them -.. couldn't
we gradually extend our protection to the whole planet,
then?"

Aikens hesitated a moment, then, looking at Altai, he
answered, "We could arm the natives and train them
briefly. But could we trust them?"

Vorgens replied instantly, "They're trusting us, briga-
dier. So I guess we'll have to trust them."

"I see."

"It's a good plan," Vorgens said. "Please take the nec-
essary steps to put it into operation immediately, and
contact the garrison commanders at the four cities we
now hold. Tell them that you'll be taking some 6f the
stocks from their arsenals to give to the natives."

Aikens glowered. "I will do so only under protest."

"Do it any way you like," Vorgens said. "But do it."

After Aikens and his staff had cleared out of the con-
trol center, Altai said, "I would like to go to Matara
briefly and see my uncle once more. It looks as though
we'll be fighting again soon, and I'd like to visit him
while I can."

"All right," Vorgens said. "I'd like to see him, too.
Sergeant, how long would it take us to drive over to
Matara?"

Mclntyre thought for a moment. "I could get you
there on a scrambler before nightfall."

The farmer's truck was ancient and slow. Sittas, already
bone-weary from a solid week of pleading and cajoling
with the rebel leaders at Capital City, was even too tired
to pay attention to the flaming colors of the sky as Oran
dipped behind the hills that surrounded Matara. Soon
they would be back at the hospital, and he could rest.
The farmer, sitting in the driver's seat, was too awed by
his unexpected guest to utter a word throughout the long,
hot, dusty trip.

It was dusk when the truck finally pulled into the town
square of Matara. The normally placid air of the place
was still banished by the bustle of activity connected with
the hospital. A Komani litter, buoyed by four of the ver-
satile one-man flyers, hovered at the bottom of the town
hall's steps. Evidently more wounded warriors had just
arrived. Merchants and farmers had set up stalls along
one side of the square, to supply the makeshift hospital
with the goods (and a few luxuries) that it required. Peo-
ple of all descriptions were coming and going through
the square. Even a Terran scrambler was parked in front
of the hospital, Sittas noticed.

He climbed down stiffly from the truck and started
toward the steps that led into the town-hall-tumed-
hospital.

Altai appeared at the door, atop the steps, and ran
down to meet him.

"So here you are!" she said. "Clanthas told us you
were coming here. We got here before you-"

"We?" the old man asked, slightly puzzled.

"The Watchman and his aide and I. We came to see
you. Vorgens and the sergeant are inside. He's amazed
with the hospital."

"I see ..."

A Komani warrior, dusty and travel-stained, advanced
on them. "You are the one called Sittas?"

The old man turned to face the Komani. "Yes, I am
Sittas."

The warrior drew his ceremonial sword. "In the name
of Lord Okatar, I must take your life."

Everyone froze. The square, pulsating with life an
instant earlier, became as still as death. No one moved,
even the breeze seemed to die, as the Komani held his
sword before him, pointed directly at the old priest.

It was Altai who broke the spell. She stepped in front
of Sittas and said, "You cannot kill him!"

"You are a woman, and unarmed. Stand aside."

"You'll have to kill me first."

Before the warrior could reply, the farmer who had
driven the truck rushed up and stood beside the girl.
"And me too!"

Immediately, everyone in the square began to throng
around the warrior. There was not a weapon on any of
them, but they stood there, unmoving, as the Komani
watched them through his unblinking, yellow cat's eyes.

With his free hand, the warrior reached for the pistol
on his belt. Before he could grasp it, a beam lanced
through his shoulder. The warrior sagged to the ground.
His sword clattered on the paving stones.

Everyone turned, and saw Vorgens and Mclntyre at
the top of the town hall steps. The sergeant held a gun
in his massive fist.

Vorgens dashed down the steps, with Mclntyre at his
heels. The crowd opened a lane for them.

"He was going to kill us!" Altai sobbed.

Vorgens put his arm around her. "It's all right. It's all
right."

The warrior painfully climbed to his knees and began
to reach for the sword that he had dropped,

Mclntyre stamped a heavy boot on the sword and put
his gun to the Komani's head.

"Don't kill him!" Sittas cried. "He was only following
the orders of Okatar."

Without taking his eyes from the warrior, Mclntyre
said. "I know how they think. As long as this one lives,
he'll have nothin' else on his mind but killin' you."

"Does that mean that I must have him killed?" Sittas
asked.

"Take the gun away from him and place him under
guard," Vorgens ordered.

"It is fortunate that you came when you did," Sittas
said to the Watchman.

Vorgens looked around at the crowd. "It looks to me
as though you had quite a bit of help without us."

It was late at night when Vorgens and Mclntyre
returned to the Mobile Force. Most of the dreadnaught's
crewmen were asleep. Altai had stayed at Matara, and
the Komani warrior had been placed under Shinarian
custody.

A yellow light flashing at the command desk told Vor-
gens that a message was waiting for him. He activated
the viewscreen and scanned the words printed on it.

"Is it from Star Watch Headquarters?" Mclntyre asked
eagerly.

Vorgens slumped into his seat. "Yes, it is."

Mclntyre stepped over beside the Watchman to read
the screen:

MINIMAL RELIEF FLEET OF THREE STARSHIPS AND NOR-
MAL COMPLEMENT OF MARINES WILL ARRIVE AT SHINAR IN
SIX WEEKS. SWHQ.

"Three ships." Mclntyre said, stunned. "Three lousy
ships."

"A token force," Vorgens said. "I suppose that they
feel we're not worth risking more men and ships."

"But that ain't gonna do us any good at all!"

"I know. It will prove what Okatar's been saying all
alongthat the Empire isn't able to meet the strength
of the combined Komani clans. It would've been better
if they had decided not to send any reinforcements at
all."



XVI

Shinar Has Been
Conquered


Merdon gnawed fretfully on his lower lip as he sat before
the blank viewscreen. Standing outside the tri-di booth
were Tarat and Romal. The trio were in the abandoned
nutrient-processing plant where Merdon had hidden a
cache of weapons.

"Is he going to speak to you or not?" Romal asked
nervously.

"He'll come on," Merdon said. "He'd better."

As if in answer to the young rebel leader, the view-
screen seemed to dissolve and the powerful form of Oka-
tar took shape. The Komani Kang was seated in his tent.
Although no one eke was in the line-of-view, Merdon
sensed that Okatar was far from alone.

"I have asked you to come to my camp," Okatar said.
"Why do you refuse, and attempt to speak through the
tri-di? It is difficult to confer fully with you in this
manner."

Merdon sat without answering for a moment, and the
two stared at each other, face to face. Finally Merdon
said, "Shall I be frank?"

"By all means."

"I was going to visit your camp, but my lieutenants
asked me not to, for two reasons. First, they feel that
you have broken the bonds of friendship and common
purpose that we once had between us. Second, they fear
that I might never leave your campalive."

"You have suspicious friends," Okatar said impassively.
"They value my life more than I do, perhaps. But I
agree with them on the first pointyour raids on our
people are not the works of an ally."

Okatar nodded "Correct. I have learned that your
people are no longer allies of the Komani They were
friendly with us only when it seemed that the Terrans
would be wiped out in the valley of Carmeer. Now that
there is the prospect of continued fighting before us,
your people have meekly returned to the Terrans and
asked to be forgiven for their audacious dreams of
freedom."

"And because they are weak you attack them," Merdon
snapped.

"The Komani take what they want. If your people
resist, we use force. The time for wheedling and coaxing
is past. If we fail on Shinar, everything fails, and I will
not see the Komani conquest of the Terran Empire
thwarted by a herd of self-pitying sheep!"

"We can fight!" Merdon shouted "We've shown that
we can. We've stood up to the Terrans before. It's you
who has dnven my people back into the arms of the
Terrans "

Okatar raised a massive hand "The time for discussion
and argument is past. To all intents and purposes, Shinar
has been conquered The Terrans are content to huddle
within their cities or inside the armored vehicles of their
Mobile Force. These raids on your people have shown
that the Terrans will not fight for Shinarians, but only to
save themselves. Shinar is ours. Those who resist us will
be crushed."

"And you'll take what you want from us," Merdon said
dully.

"Exactly so."

"Suppose ... suppose you drew up a list of the sup-
plies and equipment you need. Suppose I could convince
my people to give you what you require. Would you leave
Shinar in peace then?"

The faintest hint of a smile flickered across Okatar's
face. "If such a bargain could be arranged, I would con-
sider striking at the next Terran target."

"And leave Shinar?"

"Yes, I would leave Shinar,... Of course, one of my
nobles would remain behind as governor of this planet.
He would see to it that you continued to honor my
requirements for supplies."

"And the Terrans?"

"The Terrans on Shinar would be forced to withdraw
when I struck the next planet, or else their lines of supply
with the rest of the Empire would be cut."

Merdon nodded. "Yes, and Shinar would be free of
them."  .

"Shinar would be a vassal of the Komani," Okatar said.
"In return for our protection, we would expect tribute."

Tribute," Merdon echoed, "and the first payment
would be the Bst of supplies and equipment you'd need
to attack the next Terran planet."

"Correct," said Okatar.

Merdon glanced at his two lieutenants, outside the tri-di
booth. They both seemed to be in an agony of impatience.

"I must discuss this with my people," Merdon told
Okatar. "I will call you again, shortly."

"Very well," Okatar replied. The viewscreen went
blank.

As Merdon stepped out of the booth, Romal yelped,
"Do you realize what you're saying? Okatar will demand
everything his men can carry . .. he'U strip us bare!"

"You can't be serious about this," Tarat added. "We
can't ask our people to give the Komani whatever they
want."

Merdon folded his arms across his chest and stared
them both into silence. "I don't see that we have any
choice in the matter," he said firmly.

Clanthas basked in the warm sunshine flooding the
broad veranda that surrounded the upper floor of his
house in Katan. Beyond the railing of me veranda, the
flat white roofs of other houses marched down the slop-
ing hillside to the bright blue waters of the harbor.
Across the harbor was the busy port of Katan, where the
farm produce from a thousand miles around was gath-
ered together and loaded on the big sea-going transports
which skimmed across Shinar.'s oceans and lands with
equal ease.

Seemingly sitting across the veranda from the mer-
chant was the tri-di image of Vorgens. The Star Watch-
man had been explaining, for the past half-hour, the
Terran plan of action which Brigadier Aikens had drawn
up.

"Let me see if I understand this correctly," Clanthas
said. "The Marines will set up small task unitsbased
on your armored vehiclesin the villages, towns, and
cities- They will give arms to the people and teach them
how to fight. They will patrol the farmlands until the
people themselves are able to guard their own land. Then
they will move on to another district and repeat the same
procedure."

Vorgens nodded. "That's right. The ultimate goal is to
have the entire planet covered by either Terran Marines
or your own people. We want to deny the use of your
land to the Komanito fence them in, so to speak."

"Suppose the Komani mass for a major attack?" Clan-
thas asked. "They still outnumber your Mobile Force by
a great margin."

"If they mass, we'll have to face them. I hope that
we'll have enough time to train a good number of your
people, and that they will be fighting alongside us, in the
event of a major battle."

Clanthas murmured agreement.

"What we're trying to do," Vorgens went on, "is to
throttle down the Komani raids on your people. We're
trying to keep the skirmishes and fighting down as much
as possible."

"I understand. Still, it appears that there is no end to
the fighting in sight."

"True enough," Vorgens admitted.

Clanthas suddenly shifted the subject. "Do you know
why this rebellion began? I mean, the real reason?"

"I think I do," Vorgens said, "but I'd like to hear your
opinion."

"The reason goes back more than a century, to the
time when we were still dominated by the Masters. You
see, the Masters saw to it that we remained a static
nation- Our population was fixed at about 500 million,
and we never rose much above that figure."

"Yes, I know," Vorgens said.

"In those days," Clanthas went on, "Shinar fed not
only itself, but all the worlds within fifteen light-years of
our planet. We were not prosperous, of course, but we
were in equilibrium with the rest of the Masters' domain.
We knew what to expect, from one day to the next."

"And then the Terrans came."

"Yes. The Terrans crushed the Masters and liberated
Shinar. We were suddenly thrown on our own devices.
For a while, everything continued as it had always gone.
But something important had changed. Slowly, at first,
and then with explosive speed, our population began to
grow. When I was Merdon's age, Shinar had two billion
people; now we have three billion."

"And it is difficult for you to feed yourselves," Vorgens
said.

"Not yet difficult, but that day is fast approaching.
However, we must use all the food we produce to feed
ourselves. Practically nothing is left for export. Our trade
with the other worlds around us is dying, and we are
becoming a bankrupt nation. That is the underlying rea-
son behind the people's resentment of the Empire. The
installation of the food processing plants was merely the
trigger. They already hated the Terrans, because they
were becoming overcrowded and pauperized, under the
Empire."

"But couldn't they see that the nutrient plants were
the answer to their problem?" Vorgens asked. "Didn't
the governor explain that the processing plants would
enable you to multiply your output of foodstuffs many
times over, and reopen your trade with the other
planets?"

Clanthas shrugged. "A proclamation of that sort was
issued, but very little effort was made to explain things
to the fanners. All they knew was that they were being
moved off their farms to make room for the Terran
factories."

Vorgens shook his head. "I was afraid that this was the
case. Evidently the Terran governor didn't realize that
people can't change their whole way of living overnight
even when it's extremely necessary for them to do so."

"It may be necessary," Clanthas answered, "but hardly
desirable."

"I realize that, but the planets that depended on your
food a few decades ago are now going hungry, to a large
extent. From the Empire's point of view, the problem of
Shinar affects all of Shinar's neighbors. If we can't solve
your problem, and solve it soon, rebellion against the
Empire might well break out elsewhere. That's what I
fear most," Vorgens said worriedly, "that this movement
against the Empire will spread to other planets. If it
doesor if the Komani decide to attack another Empire
planetthen there'll be no way to stop a general war
from developing. We've got to keep this problem con-
fined to Shinar, and solve it here. Otherwise we've lost."

The argument had raged hotly while Merdon, Tarat,
and Romal paced the length and breadth of the. idle
nutrient-processing plant.

"You're going to ask our people to strip their homes,
their farms, their cities, and give everything to the
Komani- They won't do it!" Tarat bellowed.

"They'll have to," Merdon said evenly. "The Komani
will just take it anyway."

"No, no, no," Romal said, his round face flushed with
agitation. "The people are willing to fight the Komani."

Merdon laughed bitterly. "Then the Komani will take
what they want and kill our people, too."

Tarat shook his head. "I never thought I'd see you
give up."

Anger flashed in Merdon's eyes. Then he replied qui-
etly, "Can we beat the Komani?"

"No, but..."

"Do we want them off Shinar?"

"Of course."

"Will their attack on another planet force the Terrans
to leave Shinar?"

"Probably it will," Tarat admitted.

"Then I don't see that we have any choice," Merdon
said. "I don't like it any more than you do, but if it will
get rid of both the Terrans and the Komani ..."

"How do you know it'll work out that way?" Tarat said.
"There's only one chance in a million."

"Then I'll take that one chance!" Merdon snapped.

"But it's so dangerous, Merdon," Romal pleaded.
"Maybe the best thing to do, after all, would be to put
in with the Terrans. At least they're not as bad as the
Komani, and the Watchman said ..."

"It would be safer to join the Terrans," Merdon said
softly- Then, his voice rising, he continued, "It would
have been safer still never to have tried to rebel against
them, but we weren't interested in safety then. We
wanted freedom! Now that things look black, are we
going to turn our backs on our hopes, our dreams? Are
we going to tell our people: 'Go on back home, the whole
thing was a big mistake. Go home and ask the Terrans
to forgive you'? Well, are we?"

"What else can we do, Merdon?" Tarat asked. "Let
the Komani rule us in the Terrans' place?"

"No! I'll tell you what we can do. We can dare! We
can take that one chance in a million and make it work
for usor die trying. As long as there is that one
chanceno matter how slim it might bewe've got to
risk everything for it. Do you understand? We've got to.
Otherwise everything we've done so far is wasted. The
men who've died for our cause, died for nothing. The
people who believe that we will fight to the last drop of
sweat and blood to make Shinar free, will have been
hoodwinked.

"I know how hard it will be to fill the Komani's
demands. I'm not sure that we can convince the people
to make this sacrifice, even for their own eventual free-
dom, but I'm going to try! Who will follow me?"

Tarat scratched nervously at his cheek, glanced at little
Romal, and then said softly, "Well, if you think there's
really a chance that we can get rid of both the Terrans
and the Komani ..."

"We won't be rid of the Komani," Romal argued. "You
heard what Okatar said. There'll be a Komani governor
over us."

"We had a Terran governor over us once. Where is
he now?"

Romal blinked. "He'she wasassassinated."

"And what's to stop us from driving off a Komani gov-
ernor, after the warriors have left Shinar? What would
the Komani governor have to back up his word, except
our own fear of Okatar?"

"That would be enough," Tarat said. "If we didn't
behave, Okatar could have the whole Komani nation on
our backs in no time flat."

"Not if they're fighting the whole Terran Empire. Shi-
nar could still become free while the Ten-ans and the
Komani exhaust themselves in their war."

Romal shook his head. "That's an awfully long gamble
to take."

"But if it works ..."

"Fine, if it works," Tarat said. "But what if it doesn't?"

"It'll work," Merdon said stubbornly. "It's got to."

Within a few minutes, the Shinarian youth sat facing
Okatar on the viewscreen while his lieutenants stood
uneasily off to one side.

"Draw up your list," Merdon said firmly, "and I'll try
to get my people to meet your needs. But the list must
be kept to essentials- We don't intend to supply tribute.
Shinar is a poor planet. There'll be plenty of booty for
you elsewhere in the Empire."

"True enough," Okatar said, noncommittally. "I will
instruct my seneschal to prepare the list."

"Very well."

"Oh yes, there is one other item which I want to make
clear to you," Okatar said. "I have sent a column of
warriors to investigate rumors about a well-stocked arse-
nal, and warehouses filled with food, in the city of Katan.
I intend that they should carry through this investigation,
even if they must use force, I don't want to have the
feeling that anyoneincluding youmight be hiding
things from me."

Abruptly, the viewscreen went blank.



XVII

Merdon


Vorgens perched atop the cab of a troop carrier and
watched the Marines working with the farmers under the
bright, hot sun of Shinar. The meadow spread out before
him was dotted with groups of'men and machines. The
Terrans, in their bright uniforms, helmets and glare
visors towered impressively over the indifferently
dressed, dark-skinned little farmers.

One knot of men was clustered around a dismantled
heavy beamgun. The Shinarians were learning how to
put it back together. Another group was tinkering with
field communications helmets- Close by the troop carrier.
a young captain was lecturing the village elders on mod-
ern theories of defense in depth against flying Komani
attacks. Farther off, near the edge of the meadow, a
platoon of youngsters was peppering a grove of trees with
small arms fire.

This had been the first day, the first experiment in the
joint Terran-Shinarian defense system that Aikens and
Vorgens had worked out. The Star Watchman smiled to
himself. Both sides had been somewhat wary at the
beginning, early in the morning, but now they seemed
immersed in the problem. The Shinarians appeared espe-
cially impressed with the idea that they could defend
themselves; no Terran had ever granted them that much
before.

A communications tech popped his head up from, the
open hatch beside Vorgens.

"Message for you, sir."

"What is it?"

"From the main body of the Force, sir- One of the
natives was looking for youthat girl, the one that was
with the priest."

"Altai?"

"The exec spoke with her a few minutes ago. She
seemed very agitated, he said, and was coming over here
to see you. She's flying on a Komani vehicle, sir."

Vorgens nodded absent-mindedly. What was wrong
with Altai? Suddenly the tech's last words made an
impression on him:

"Alert everyone in the area that a single Komani flyer
will be coming in. I don't want anyone firing at it ...
especially those eager recruits down by the woods."

The tech arched his eyebrows and nodded. "Yes sir."
He disappeared inside the hatch.

Vorgens' face knitted into a frown. Something was
wrong. Altai isn't the type that panicsbut she's flying
here to see meinstead of using the tri-di. Something is
very wrong.

Yet, strangely, he felt pleased that she was coming to
him. No matter what the trouble was, he would be glad
to see her.

About a half-hour later, a lone Komani flyer whizzed
over the meadow, then slowed and spiraled down lower.
Vorgens could see Altai's hair streaming in the wind. She
spotted the Watchman, and put the flyer down beside
the troop carrier.

Vorgens clambered down from the groundcar as she
ran up toward him.

"It's Merdon," she said breathlessly, before he could
ask anything. "He's gone wild. Okatar is sending a col-
umn of troops to sack Katanwhere his father lives.
Merdon is gathering up as many men as he can to attack
Okatar's main camp and kill him."

It took Vorgens a moment to digest the news. "But
that's insane," he said finally. "The camp is too heavily
guarded for him to get through. It's a suicide mission,
and it won't help his father in Katan."

Altai nodded. "Katan is too far away to be reached in
time. The Komani troops will be there tomorrow morn-
ing, at the latest. Even if Merdon had enough groundcars
for his men, he couldn't be there until late in the after-
noon. What can we do? He'll kill himself!"

Vorgens looked at her. Altai's lovely face was twisted
with worry over Merdon.

"Has he at least told his father about the attack?"

"II think so. Oh, he was so furious! He was raging.
I've never seen him like this before."

"It's all right. He has a temper and he uses it- It saves
strain on his nervous system."

"But what are we going to do?" she pleaded. "What
can we do?"

Vorgens grinned at her. "First, we can calm down and
try to think straight. Second, can that flying machine
carry the two of us?"

"Um ... yes, I imagine so. It's built to cany Komani
warriors, and neither of us is much more than half their
weight."

"Good. Let's go back to my headquarters. We've got
work to do."

"And that's the way I see it, brigadier," Vorgens said.

Aikens was sitting across the table from the Watchman,
in the dreadnaught's officers' wardroom. A pair of majors
and the exec were also at the table. Steaming coffee
mugs stood before each man.

Aikens had listened in dour silence to Vorgens' analysis
of the situation. Now, he hunched forward in his chair
and leaned his elbows on the green tabletop.

"Let me understand you clearly. You want to dispatch
troops to Katan to beat off the Komani attack, and you
expect me to devise a tactical plan of battle." As usual,
he placed a slight, sullen accent on the word tactical.

"First of all," Vorgens answered, "I want your opinion
on whether we can beat off the Komani attack. I don't
want to waste troops on a meaningless gesture."

Aikens nodded. "That's sensible. Based on what the
observation planes from Capital City have reported, the
Komani column should be at Katan by mid-moming
tomorrow. The earliest we could get there would be mid-
aftemoon. So'we can't stop their attack."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"But we can," Aikens went on, with a curious crooked
smile, "smash that column of savages just the same. Let
them hit the city. Let them wreck it. Then we'll hit them
when they're totally disorganized and unprepared for
fighting."

"But there wouldn't be much left of the city when we
got through."

Aikens shrugged. "Perhaps the citizens could hold off
the attackers for a few hours. You claim they're fighters."

Vorgens let the brigadier's sarcasm slide past him.
"That might work. I'll get in touch with Clanthas and
see what he can organize in the way of a defense. In the
meantime, your staff should draw up detailed battle
plans. Determine how many troops you'll need and how
much transport. Also, I'm going to dispatch a transport
group for some of the natives who're willing to fight in
defense of Katan."

Aikens grunted noncommittally. "Til keep the few
planes we have at Capital City in the air to watch the
Komani."

"Should you have them try to bomb the columnslow
it down?"

The brigadier shook his head. "No, the Komani are
too spread out for nuclear weapons, and trying to go low
and hit them with beams or missiles will just get the
planes shot up. If we had more planes, or if these back-
ward natives had some ..."

"They're not backward. They just don't need aircraft."
Vorgens said. "Groundcars can go almost as fast as sub-
sonic planes, and they can carry considerably more pay-
load- With groundcars, and tri-di communications, these
people simply don't need fleets of fast aircraft."

"Well, backward or not, they don't have what it takes,"
Aikens said acidly. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have
work to do."

"Yes," Vorgens said, rising from his chair, "so do I."

The Star Watchman hurried through the narrow pas-
sageways to the dreadnaught's communications center
that compact jumble of molectronic transceivers, coders.
viewscreens and recorders. Altai was there, talking qui-
etly with the two technicians on duty. The techs seemed
happily amazed at the chance to talk to a young, good-
looking girl. As Vorgens stepped through the open hatch,
though, they both shot out of their seats and stood at
ramrod attention.

"Stand easy," Vorgens said. Then, he asked Altai, "Did
you reach Clanthas?"

"Yes. Merdon had already called him, and advised him
to abandon the city. Clanthas refused. He's organizing
the people of Katan. They're going to fight for their city."

"Good, we're going to help them."

"What ... what about Merdon?" she asked.

"Can he be reached by tri-di?"

Altai shook her head. "I tried a few minutes ago. He's
left the factory, where he had set up headquarters."

Vorgens rubbed his temple thoughtfully. "In that
case," he said, "we'll have to go out and find him." He
turned to the techs. "Get Sergeant Mclntyre and tell him
to have an aircar ready for us in ten minutes."

"Yes sir."

The Mobile Force had three aircars, used mainly for
scouting. They took off vertically on jets of air blasted
straight downwardsomewhat similar to the method
used to raise the groundcars above ground level. The
aircars lifted for several hundred feet, though, and then
the jet engines swiveled and moved the craft forward.
Stubby wings provided all the necessary lift, and the craft
could sprint at twice the speed of sound, when required.

"There they are, sir," said the Marine pilot as they
flew over Merdon's forces.

Mclntyre, sitting in the gunner's seat, grunted. "Not
much of a force t' tackle th' whole Komani camp."

Vorgens and Altai looked through the plastic bubble
window as the pilot banked. Several hundred young men
and girls were gathered on the grassy field below. Some
were in trucks and small groundcars, most were afoot.
They had plenty of small arms, but practically no heavy
equipment. At the head of the loosely organized column
was a light Terran armored groundcar.

"We captured that in the first battle at the university,"
Altai explained. "It is Merdon's prize possession."

"Put us down in front of the armored car," Vorgens
told the pilot.

The aircar settled down swiftly, on screaming jets. As
it touched the grass with its landing wheels, the armored
car pulled up and stopped. The rest of the Shinarians
slowly began to gather around, as Vorgens and Altai
stepped down from the aircar, and Merdon, Tarat and
Romal got out of the armored vehicle.

"We meet again," Vorgens said.

"What are you doing here?" asked Merdon.

"I want to talk with you."

"The time for talking is finished. Get out of our way.
We have work to do."

They stood face to facethe young, slim foreigner in
his Star Watch uniform, and the equally young, slightly
bigger native. They were nearly the same height, and
almost the same complexion. From a distance, where you
could not see the difference in clothing, they might seem
to be brothers.

"Tour mission can wait a few minutes, can't it?" Vor-
gens insisted- "What I have to say is vitally important to
all of us, including your father."

The tenseness in Merdon's face relaxed a bit. "All
right- A few minutes."

Vorgens looked around at the crowd that had gathered
about them.

"Perhaps we could talk better up there." He pointed
to a little knoll.

Merdon shrugged.

"We're going for a walk, sergeant," Vorgens told Mcln-
tyre, "and I don't want to be disturbed."

Merdon said much the same to Tarat. Then they started
walking, in silence.

But as they reached the foot of the knoll and began
climbing its gentle slope, Merdon asked: "You talked with
my father?"

"Altai did. He's organizing a defense of the city."

"He'll get himself killed."

"What are you going to do to help save him?"

Merdon glanced at the Watchman- "There's nothing I
can do. You know that- Katan is too far away, even for
the fastest groundcars. The Komani will be there before
we can get to the city."

"So?"

Merdon stopped walking. "So I'm going to hit the
Komani where it will hurt the most. I'm going to kill
Okatar."

Vorgens pursed his lips thoughtfully. Then he said,
"That won't save your father."

"He could save himself if he'd abandon the city."

"Would you run away, if you were in his place?"

Merdon opened his mouth to answer, but no words
came out.

"You may have heard," Vorgens said, resuming his
climb toward the top of the knoll, "that my personal
situation has changed somewhat since our last meeting."

Merdon, striding swiftly to catch up with the Watch-
man, could not help grinning. "I've heard."

"I'm no longer a prisoner, and while my rank is still
that of a junior officer, I am the Star Watch officer in
command of Shinar."

"II apologize for the way I treated you on our first
meeting. I lost my temper."

Vorgens plucked a leafy twig from the shrubbery. "I
accept your apology ... under one condition. I want you
to hear me out."

"I'm listening."

"There are only three points I want to make. First:
the Empire has not treated Shinar well- This is not
because of Terran maliciousness; it's just an accidental
by-product of the Imperial system. You could be treated
much better under the Empire- Other worlds are.

"Second: Shinar is too small a world, and too weak
militarily, to stand alone. If Imperial troops were not
here fighting for your peopledon't frown, that's what
they're doingif they weren't here to fight for your peo-
ple, the Komani would be ruling you with a whip and a
gun.

"Finally: Shinar can achieve its own internal freedom
under the Empire. I'm saying can, not will. Other planets
have done it. Perhaps yours can, too. It's something
worth working toward, worth risking a lot forit's even
worth fighting forbecause it's the only way you'll ever
gain freedom."

"What kind of freedom would it be?" Merdon asked,
with quiet bitterness. "The Terrans would still control
us. They'd own our souls."

"Don't be dramatic," Vorgens said. "The usual
arrangement is to allow the planet complete internal
freedom. You can rule yourselves in any way you see fit.
The Empire would reserve the right to regulate your
commercial treaties with other planets, but once a treaty
is made, it's binding on the Empire as well as you. The
Empire is ruled by law. You'd have all the legal rights
that any other self-governing planet of the Empire
enjoys."

"You make it sound like Sittas' dreams of heaven."

Vorgens laughed. "No, it won't be heaven. While the
Empire is ruled by law, it is still governed by men. There'll
always be differences of opinion, problems, arguments.
But you'd have as much of a chance to get your own
way as anyone else would."

They had reached the top of the knoll, and stood in
knee-deep scrubgrass. A soft breeze moderated the heat
of the sun. The deep blue, nearly violet, sky stood spar-
kling and cloudless all around them.

Vorgens stretched an arm toward the horizon. "This is
a good world, Merdon- A green world, filled with people
who deserve a chance to live in peace."

"They deserve freedom!" Merdon insisted. "And
they're willing to fight for it."

Vorgens stepped over to the slightly taller Shinarian
and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Don't you under-
stand, you hothead? I want them to be free! I want them
to live their lives the way they want; to reach in any
direction they choose; to be free from all outside
domination."

Merdon took a step backward, and Vorgens let his
hands drop to his sides. Then he went on, "They can do
this under the Empire. It won't happen overnight, but
they can achieve this freedom. Peacefully! What alterna-
tive to the Empire do you have? The Komani? Nonsense.
Complete independence? You'd be swallowed up by more
powerful neighbors within a year. Fine words and brave
sentiments are perfectly good in their place, Merdon, but
it takes more than that to achieve freedom. You must
look at the real world, as it actually existsnot the world
you would like to see, not your own dreams. In this real
world, you must work for solutions that can be achieved.

"You can't solve all your problems with a wave of the
hand," Vorgens went on. "You tried to do that by bring-
ing the Komani to Shinar. What's happened? Chaos. No
one's going to come to Shinar and grant you complete
independence at a stroke, but under the Empire you
have a better chance to achieve more freedom than any
other way offers."

Merdon scratched his head. "Maybe you're right," he
admitted. "II told Okatar he could name his own price
if he would just leave Shinar and attack another Empire
planet. Anythingall the equipment, food, ammunition
he wantedjust to leave Shinar. It was a stupid thing to
do. A wrong thing. His answer wasto take the offer,
and at the same time attack Katan."

"He wants to show you that you've been conquered,"
Vorgens said.

"Right. To Okatar, we're already slaves. He'll take what
he wants from us."

"Unless we stop him."

"And that's what I'm going to do," Merdon concluded
grimly.

"Not by attacking his camp," Vorgens countered. "All
you'd accomplish there is your own death."

"I've got to try!"

"Then try this: join us in the defense of Katan. Your
father's organizing the citizens of the city. If he can hold
out for a few hours, we can bring up Terran Marines,
and your own forces, and crush the attackers."

Merdon shook his head. "Don't you think I've thought
of that? I just don't have enough groundcars to get to
Katan that quickly."

Vorgens grinned. "Don't you think I've thought of
that? I can have a squadron of vans and troop carriers
here within the hour."

Merdon was silent for a moment. Then, looking straight
into the Watchman's eyes, he said, "I've been terribly
wrong about a lot of things, but most of all about you,
I'm going to tell my people to follow your orders. I'll
stay behindunless youunless you're willing to have
me fight alongside you."

Vorgens said nothing, but put his hand out toward
Merdon. The Shinarian smiled broadly, and took the
Watchman's hand in a firm grasp. Then they went down,
side by side, to the waiting people.

Clanthas was sitting out on the veranda again, watching
the sun go down. For the first time in his life, he felt fear
at the approach of night. Somewhere off in the rolling
countryside, he knew, a column of Komani warriors was
advancing on his city.

A Terran jet flew overhead, its engines barely audible
at the great altitude it held, its contrail of "frozen light-
ning" picking up the reddish glow of the dying sun.
There was no airfield at Katan. The busy port city
depended on groundcars and the huge, ocean-spanning
transports that skimmed over land and sea with equal
ease.

That was a Terran jet overhead. Strangely, it seemed
to comfort the merchant. The Terrans were active. They
were coming to the aid of Katan- But would they come
soon enough? That was the question.



XVIII

The Race to Katan


Through the long night the people of Katan prepared
for the oncoming Komani. The arsenal was opened and
every citizenmale or femaleold enough and strong
enough to handle a weapon was issued one. The city's
lights burned all night long as, building by building, block
by block, people huddled together to make plans, to pick
the best windows and rooftops to mount guns, to pray.

By dawn, they were ready. The usual early-morning
bustle of commerce was replaced by a deadly, calm,
quiet. Shops and offices were closed. Windows and doors
bolted. The streets were empty, except for a few patrol-
ling policemen. The hot, yellow sun rose, the sparkling
water lapped the harbor docks and seawalls, the morning
breeze blew in from the ocean, but the citizens of Katan
were not out of doors to see. They waited indoors, grimly
checking their weapons and ammunition.

The city lay curving around its crescent-shaped harbor.
A small river cut through the heart of Katan, dividing it
into two unequal segments, called the Lesser City and
the Greater City. Beyond the outskirts of the city, beyond
the parks and playgrounds and occasional suburban
estates, were the rolling, wooded hills that masked the
approach of the Komani.

The lulling calm of the morning was shattered by the
scream of an aircar streaking fast and low over the build-
ings- The plane circled twice, then made a vertical
descent into a deserted public park in the residential
section of the city.

A handful of policemen ran to the aircar as its Jets
whined to a stop. Guns poked out ominously from dozens
of windows and rooftops. Vorgens, Aikens, Mclntyre, and
two of the brigadier's staff officers climbed out. The
Shinarians relaxed. A groundcar slid up to the Terrans,
and they were whisked to Clanthas' home.

Clanthas had turned his veranda into a battle head-
quarters, The town council, the mayor, the police chief
and several other community leaders were there to greet
the Terrans- Vorgens quickly introduced Brigadier
Aikens, Sergeant Mclntyre, and the brigadier's two aides.

"We passed over the Komani column," the Watchman
said before Clanthas could say anything. "They're about
two hours awayperhaps a little less."

"And your troops?" the mayor asked.

"They're moving up in land cruisers," Brigadier Aikens
said, stepping between Vorgens and the mayor. "Won't
be here until noon, at the earliest. You must defend the
city as best as possible until then."

The mayor exchanged worried glances with the others.

"The brigadier has drawn up a plan of action," Vorgens
said.

"Do you have a map of the city?" Aikens asked Clanthas.

The merchant smiled. "Better than that ... I have the
city itself."

Clanthas led them around the veranda to the side that
faced away from the harbor. The entire group clustered
around Aikens as he looked out over the rooftops of
Katan.

"I see what you mean," the brigadier said, "An excel-
lent view- Now then, that large square building down
there, across the river .. ." He pointed. "That's the arse-
nal, isn't it?"

Clanthas nodded.

Aikens turned and leaned slightly over the railing.
"And down on this side ... those are the warehouses?"

"Yes, along the waterfront of the Lesser City."

Aikens grunted with satisfaction. "All right- Now, the
arsenal and the warehouses will be the two principal
objectives of the Komani."

"The arsenal will be practically useless to them," Clan-
thas said, "since we have distributed almost all the weap-
ons and ammunition to our people."

"Good! I was counting on that. We'll let the Komani
spend some time and effort taking the arsenal, but we
won't defend that end of the city very strongly. Evacuate
your people and leave only a thin screen of men; fight a
rear guard action."

The mayor gasped. "You mean that we should allow
them to take half the Greater City? But the factories,
the business district, the homes ..."

"They have no military value," Aikens snapped.
"You're fighting for time, with untrained rabble facing
tough, battle-tested troops. You can't hold the entire city.
You've got to pick out the-part that you must defend,
and let the Komani have the rest, temporarily."

"But they'll loot it ... destroy everything."

Aikens planted his fists on his hips. "Listen! I'm here
to save your necks and to defeat the Komani. I'm not
going to worry about real estate values."

Vorgens added, more softly, "If all goes well, the
Komani won't have much time for looting. Besides, the
buildings would be damaged much more severely if
heavy fighting took place in them,"

The mayor shook his head. "I suppose so."

"All right then," Aikens resumed, turning slightly away
from the Watchman. "The warehouses will be defended.
We'll set up a firm tine of resistance a few blocks in
front of them. And we'll also set up a flanking line along
the river."

"The river is no barrier to Komani mounted on flyers,"
Vorgens pointed out.

Aikens smiled icily, and with an obvious patience,
explained, "No, but it's a moderately wide open space,
with no buildings to provide shelter. If they try to fly
across the river, they'll be putting themselves in the mid-
dle of a firing range."

"Good," Clanthas said, sensing the hostility between
the two men and trying to change the subject before it
broke out into the open. "What else?"

"Three companies of Imperial Marines are being flown
here by jet. They should arrive momentarily."

"But we have no airfield."

"They'll jump from the planes and come down on jet-
belts. When our task unit from the Mobile Force arrives,
we'll be able to drive the Komani out of the cityif all
goes well this morning."

"Very well," Clanthas said. He turned to the mayor,
"We must inform our people about this plan of battle.
We have to move swiftly."

Within a moment, the veranda was deserted, except
for the Terrans.

"They seemed to accept your plan," Vorgens said to
the brigadier.

"They'd better."

Sergeant Mclntyre asked the Watchman, "Sir, when the
airborne troops get here, they'll need somebody t' show
'em where they're supposed t' set up ... won't they?"

"Very well. Sergeant," Vorgens said, "you may report
to the brigade commander. I didn't think I'd be able to
keep you out of the fighting."

Mclntyre saluted brisldy. "Thank you, sir!"

Aikens said, "If you're going back to the Mobile Force,
Watchman, you'd better start off right away. There's not
much time left before the shooting starts."

Vorgens met the older man's eyes. "When are you
leaving?"

"When the battle's done."

"Then I'll stay too, if you don't mind."

They stood facing each other in silence for a moment.
Then Aikens turned away.

"Look!" shouted one of the brigadier's aides. "The
jets."

They could see three fine, white contrails hurrying
across the morning sky. Within minutes, the planes had
come low enough to flood the city with the thunder of
their engines. Tiny figures began to jump from them,
with crisp military precision, and float slowly downward.

Vorgens turned away and looked at the hills. Word-
lessly, he reached out and tapped Aikens' shoulder. The
brigadier turned and stared in the direction of Vorgens'
gaze.

Coming over the hills, like a dark cloud of angry
locusts, was the swarm of Komani flyers.

It was not pretty to watch a city being destroyed-

Vorgens stood at his post on the veranda, within ear-
shot of the communications center that Aikens had set
up, and saw the battle unfold.

The Komani split into two columns. One bore straight
down on the Lesser City, driving for the warehouses by
the waterfront. The other swung wide across the open
suburban greenery and attacked the Greater City, aiming
for the arsenal.

By noontime, the bright sunshine was blotted out by
a pall of smoke rising from dozens of fires raging through
Katan. Vorgens could see that most of the Greater City
was a shambles. The Komani had slashed their way easily
to the arsenal, and when they found it nearly empty, had
turned their frustrated rage to the building itself. They
set it ablaze, and then fanned out through the Greater
City, looting, burning destroying. Now the arsenal was
a blackened, gutted shell, and the buildings around it
smoldered also.

But all this was secondary to the fierce battle flaring
through the streets of the Lesser City.

The Komani column driving toward the warehouses
had met stiff resistance from the citizens of Katan and
from the hastily assembled brigade of Marines. Aikens'
defensive perimeter, drawn up a few blocks in front of
the warehouses and swinging around to follow the riverside
flank, had temporarily stopped the Komani onslaught.

The fighting had slowed down to a bitter, house-to-
house, man-to-man struggle. Most of the Komani had
dismounted from their flyers and fought now on foot. A
few still remained aloft, though, to pepper rooftops and
windows. Clanthas' veranda had been buzzed several
times. Vorgens now held a beam pistol in his hand.

Although they were outnumbered, the Komani were
relentlessly pressing their attack home. They had quickly
learned to stay out of the buildings, where a dozen Shi-
narians could surprise a lone invader. Now they were
boring through the streets and over the rooftops, routing
the city's defenders with superior discipline and the dis-
passionate courage that comes from long experience in
battle.

Three times Aikens had to move his core of Imperial
Marines backwards, because the Komani had penetrated
the streets on their flanks and threatened to surround
them. Now they were fighting in the square that opened
onto the warehouse district.

Vorgens could see, too, that the Komani sacking the
Greater City must have received word of the heavy fight-
ing going on near the warehouses. They had stopped
their senseless looting and burning, and were forming up
in the streets.

The Watchman ducked around a comer of the veranda
to Aikens at his makeshift communications center. The
brigadier had taken one side of the veranda and filled it
with technicians, aides, and equipment.

He was leaning over one of the techs, barking orders
into a viewscreen. Vorgens touched his arm. The briga-
dier straightened and turned to the Watchman.

"In another moment or two," Vorgens said, "the war-
riors from the Greater City will be flying here to help
their friends."

"I know!" Aikens snapped. "What do you think I'm
trying to do here, organize a tea party? I'm setting up a
lane of fire on both sides of the river- We'll cut down as
many of 'em as possible before they can join the attack
here."

"What about our task unit from the Mobile Force?"
Vorgens asked.

"They're on their way."

It was almost two hours more before the Terrans
finally arrived.

The three companies of air-dropped Marines had been
whittled down to a stubborn handful, fighting tenaciously
at the steps of the warehouses they were defending.
Shinariansold men, boys, women among themfought
and died alongside the Imperial troops.

All along the river Komani warriors were darting wildly
on their utterly maneuverable flyers, trying to avoid
the withering fire coming up from both banks. Some of
the flyers got through, and went on to join the attack
on the warehouses. Most of the others had turned back
though, and were blasting the buildings from which the
Shinarians fired.

A squad of flying Komani warriors had fought its way
to the roof of one warehouse when Vorgens saw the first
Terran troop carriers racing over the final row of hills
before the city.

The Watchman turned to Aikens, and saw that the
brigadier was still immersed in crackling out orders to
his men. Beyond the brigadier's shoulder, Vorgens could
see more battle cruisers skimming over the harbor water,
heading for the warehouses at top speed. Only then did
he realize that the vehicles coming in from the hills car-
ried Merdon's men, not Marines.

The Komani were caught in a vise.

Aikens' Marines, in battle cruisers and armored cars,
drove up the streets between the warehouses, crushing
the Komani attack with massed firepower- The invading
warriors fell back, slowly at first, but when they tried to
regroup, they found Terran armored vehicles boring
down on them. The Komani fled for the city's outskirts,
only to be met by Merdon's vengeful fighters.

By nightfall it was ended. A few of the attackers had
escapedvery few. Merdon and the exhausted citizens
of Katan rejoiced by torchlight through the blackened,
rubble-strewn streets.

Vorgens remained at the railing of the veranda, watch-
ing the celebration, in the dark. The city's electrical
power generators had been heavily damaged.

"Sir."

He turned, and in the flickering shadows saw Mcln-
tyre, grimy and tired, but alive. "You'vedone a good
day's work. Sergeant."

A satisfied grin broke across Mclntyre's beefy face.
"Thank you sir. Uhwe're just about ready t' leave. The
brigadier has already gone back t' the Mobile Force. Ail
other troops have pulled out."

"All right," Vorgens said quietly, "I suppose there's no
sense in my staying any longer."

Mclntyre peered out over the railing. "They're havin'
some time down therecelebratin' their victory. Iuh,
don't suppose we could stay a bit longer and join 'em?"

"Victory?" the Watchman echoed. "What victory?
Look at this city. It's smashed to pieces. Who won?"

Mclntyre shmgged. "They seem t' think they won, sir.
They're already talldn' about how they're gonna rebuild
the damaged sections of town."

Vorgens did not answer. He started toward the stairs
that led down to the courtyard before Ctanthas' home
and the aircar waiting there- Someone was coming up
the steps. Altai.

"Here you are!" she said to Vorgens.

"I'm on my way back to the Mobile Force," he said.

"Leaving? But why?"

"Why not? The battle's over. Your people want to cele-
brate. You'll want to get back to Merdon and the others."

She smiled and stepped closer to him. "I haven't said
more than six words to Merdon since yesterday, and I'm
not joining the celebration until you come with me.
They're celebrating their freedom, and you're the man
responsible for it. You're coming with me!"

"I . .."

Devilishly, she added, "You wouldn't want Merdon to
get all the credit, would you? Come on!"

Vorgens grinned back at her. "All right, you win. Ser-
geant, l-guess we'll be staying awhile longer."

"Yes sir," Mclntyre said happily.



XIX

Attrition


The celebration at Katan was followed by six weeks of
virtually uninterrupted battle flaming across the breadth
of Shinar. Okatar Kang had decided to sack the planet,
relentlessly raiding every district-, every town, systemati-
cally taking all the food, weapons, equipment and ammu-
nition he desired.

Opposed to the Komani plan stood Vorgens and his
concept of Shinarian self-defense, directed and keystoned
by the Terrans.

It was a peculiar battle in many ways. Instead of large
masses of troops and weapons clashing head-on, there
were skirmishes, maneuverings, feints, sudden vicious
attacks, ambushesfew single actions involved more
than a battalion of men.

Vorgens worked constantly, almost without rest, living
on stimulants, cajoling Aikens, persuading the Shinarians
to trust the Terrans.

With the Shinarians taking over a good part of their
own defense, and with Merdon's fighters providing
reconnaissance and intelligence, the Terrans were able
to meet the Komani on their own terms. When a Komani
raiding party headed for a town, it would be intercepted
by a fast, strong squadron of battle cruisers. Fanning
villages became little fortresses dotting the countryside,
often with a Terran dreadnaught camped in the village
square. Komani columns were ambushed. When Okatar
massed his strength and tried to force a pitched battle,
he found that the Terrans could also disperse and disap-
pear into the countryside.

The Komani still outnumbered the Imperial troops on
Shinar. But whenever the Terrans struck, they usually
had superior strength at that particular place for that
brief time.

It was a war of attrition, with fatigue and hunger and
mechanical breakdown playing as important a role as
weapons.

"We're failing," Vorgens said tiredly. "We're failing
miserably."

He was sitting at the head of the green-covered table
in the officers' wardroom of the command dreadnaught.
Grouped around the table were Merdon, Brigadier
Aikens, the exec. Sergeant Mclntyre, and a few other
officers.

"I wouldn't say that. Watchman," the brigadier
objected. ""We're holding our own against the
barbarians."

"We've beaten off most of their attacks. The people
are learning to defend themselves." Merdon agreed.

Vorgens shook his head. "The best we can say is that
we've accomplished a stalemate. Our objective is peace.
We have perpetual fighting. That's failure."

"What do you propose?" the exec asked.

"That's the worst part of itI can't see any clear way
out," Vorgens admitted. "Either the Komani will remain
here until one side or the other collapses from exhaustion,
orworse stillOkatar will pull his clan off Shinar and
attack another planet. Then the whole bloody business
will be repeated again."

"What about the reinforcements on their way here?"
Aikens asked.

"They won't be enough to make much difference,"
Vorgens said. "In fact, just because they're so few, they'll
verify Okatar's claim that the Empire can't defend Shinar
adequately. Those reinforcements might lead to strength-
ening Okatar's hand! Other Komani clans might be
tempted to join him when they see how weak the Empire's
response is."

A gloomy silence settled over them.

Finally, Merdon said, "I know a way of breaking this
deadlock."

Everyone turned to him.

"Kill Okatar," Merdon said simply. "Decapitate the
Komani clan."

Aikens grunted. "You'd never be able to get to him."

"It would just make the Komani fight harder," the
exec said.

"That would be barbaric," Voi-gens said. "To deliber-
ately plan a man's death...."

"This is war," Aikens snapped. "Every one of us runs
the risk of being killed."

"In battle, yes," Vorgens countered. "But not in bed.
No, I can't condone assassination."

"But if it were done," Merdon insisted, "it would break
die stalemate, wouldn't R?"

"Possibly. I don't know. It would certainly throw the
Komani into confusion, at least temporarily. Perhaps then
they might be willing to talk about peace...."

Merdon changed the subject then, and the conference
droned on for another fruitless hour. No decision was
reached. The Terrans and Shinarians would continue to
fight as they had been fighting for more than six weeks.

The war of attrition would go on.

In the passageway outside the wardroom, Merdon
grasped Sergeant Mclntyre's arm and asked, "Can we
talk for a moment?"

The sergeant nodded, and the two of them walked
slowly down the passageway. Mclntyre loomed bulkily
next to the slim Shinarian youth.

"What do you think about the chances of getting to
Okatar?" Merdon asked in a half-whisper.

Mclntyre shrugged. "It's a big camphard t' get into.
And even harder t' get out of."

"Listen," Merdon whispered, suddenly intense, "I
know every blade of grass in the camp. I can get six
men through the guards and into Okatar's tent. I've been
planning this for weeks, and I know it can be done!"

The sergeant rubbed his massive jaw. "How d' you get
'em away afterwards?"

"Jetbelts."

"Might work."

"I need six men trained in silent night fighting."

"Five, countin' me," said Sergeant Mclntyre.

Three nights later, they made their try.

Mclntyre had recruited five Marines, including Gira-
daux. The lanky young trooper had sensed that the ser-
geant was up to something, and had forced Mclntyre to
take him along, as the price of silence.

A driving rainstorm had blown up from the south, pre-
dicted by the Terran meteorologists. Merdon was count-
ing on the storm to provide a cover of darkness against
the usual twilight glow of the Shinarian night.

They commandeered a scoutcar and started off cross-
country, guided by the car's infrared lamps. Ordinary
lights would have been detected too easily, both by the
Komani and the occasional Terran patrols.

Mclntyre drove, with Merdon in the skipper's seat
directing him. The five troopers sat in dark silence amidst
their jetbelts, guns and grenades, listening to the whine
of the car's engine and the rain pelting the armored roof
just above their helmets.

"There's the forest coming up," Merdon said, pointing
into the viewscreen in front of Mclntyre. "You won't be
able to take the car very deep into it."

Mclntyre nodded as he eased up on the throttle. "I'll
put 'er in a little ways, so she'll be under cover."

Within a few minutes, the seven of them were slogging
through the rain-soaked woods.

It took nearly two hours of steady marching through
the angry rain before they cleared the forest and saw the
edge of the Komani camp.

Crouching in the bushes at the forest's edge, Merdon
scanned the camp with infrared binoculars.

"Only a few guards," he muttered, "and plenty of open
space between them. The camp is almost completely
blacked out. The rain has even put out the ceremonial
fires."

"Don't they have automatic detection equipment that
sets off an alarm as soon as somebody crosses th' energy
screen?" Mclntyre asked.

"No. That's a Terran refinement that the Komani don't
have. Guards with snooperscopes . . . that's what they
use. Believe me, it'll be tough enough to get through
them."

They skirted along the edge of the encampment, look-
ing for their best opening. At last they found a spot
where the foliage nearly reached the energy screen.
There were only about twenty yards of open space
between the forest shrubbery and the nearest Komani
tents.

They waited for the guard to make a couple of rounds,
so they could time his approach. Then they started crawl-
ingtwo at a timefor the tents. Mclntyre and Gira-
daux were the first pair to start. The rain had slackened
a little but was still heavy enough to be troublesome. For
what seemed like hours, the two Marines inched along
on their stomachs, while the others covered them with
their guns.

Merdon was the last to go across- He pulled himself
along the wet, slippery grass and mud, his vision
restricted to the same view of the world that a worm
might have.

Suddenly he heard Mclntyre's harsh whisper in his
helmet earphones. "Freeze!"

Merdon stopped dead and buried his face in his arms.
He was wearing a black uniform and equipment, as the
Marines were. But still it seemed his heart was pounding
loud enough to be heard all over the camp.

Finally Mclntyre whispered, "Okay."

The young Shinarian slithered across the last remaining
yards and joined the others in the relative safety behind
the tents.

"What happened?" he asked as they helped him to his
feet.

"Changing of the guard," Mclntyre answered. "Two of
'em walked right out in fronta you. Lucky they didn't
look your way."

Merdon grinned. "Well let's get moving while our luck
still holds."

They made their way as quickly as possible toward the
center of the camp. Merdon pointed the way, and Mcln-
tyre directed their movements, "The seven of them
fanned out slightly, but still kept within sight of each
other. One man would move ahead the distance of a
single tent, make certain the way was clear, then signal
the next man to move up. They kept to the shadows,
and their guns were always in their hands, ready to fire.

Four times they had to stop, as guards crossed their
path, treading sleepily through the darkened camp. Once
a guard started to walk directly toward a pair of Marines,
crouching alongside a tent. Mclntyre sprang at the
Komani's back and feHed him with a savage chop at the
neck.

"Is he dead?" Merdon whispered.

"Dunno ... but he'll be out for a good long time, at
least."

"Come on," Merdon said. "The rain's slackening. It's
starting to brighten up a little."

Finally they reached Okatar's golden dome. Light was
streaming from the main entrance.

"There are two other entrances, on the other side of
the tent," Merdon said.

Mclntyre nodded to his men. "Two of you take each
entrance. Gerry, you and Merdon come with me, through
the main gate. Now get this straight, all of you; no
Komani leaves that tent alive. Understand?"

They nodded.

The four Marines disappeared into the shadows. Mcln-
tyre hunched down into a squat and surveyed the tent's
main entrance. A pair of guards stood tiredly leaning on
their rifles.

"How many Komani will be inside?" the sergeant
asked.

Merdon shrugged. "It depends. If Okatar has his full
council in there, it might be twenty-five or thirty men."

The Marines at the other two entrances signaled
through their helmet radios that they were ready.

"Okay," Mclntyre whispered. "Now!"

He got both the guards with a single sweeping blast
from his beam rifle as they dashed out of the shadows
and toward the entrance.

Inside, the tent suddenly looked deserteda single
large area, richly decorated and furnishedbut empty of
Komani- Then a grenade went off, somewhere on the
other side of the tent.

"The council chamber," Merdon shouted as he ran
toward the far end of the room.

Before they could get to the doorway, a trio of Komani
nobles bolted through it and faced them. Merdon cut
them down with his beam pistol before they could
change the surprised expressions on their faces.

Inside the council chamber, one of the Marines was
sprawled limply over an ornate chair, while another was
kneeling beside him, firing at five Komani who had taken
shelter behind the massive council table. The farther end
of the table was splintered and blackened from a gre-
nade's blast. Mclntyre pushed behind a chair and up to
the table itself, then sprayed the length of it with the
highest-power beam he could get from his rifle.. The
table flashed into flames, forcing the Komani back away
from it. Within less than a minute they were ail mowed
down.

"Okatar's not here," Merdon shouted. "Come on,
we've got to find him."

They dashed through several other rooms, while the
three surviving Marines took up defensive stations at
each of the three entrances to the tent.

The rooms were empty. Smoke was starting to crawl
ominously around them.

"The whole camp'll be in here in a minute!" Mclntyre
shouted.

Merdon said, "He's got to be ... LOOK our!"

Nearly a dozen Komani burst out of a doorway off to
their right. Their first shots knocked down both Mclntyre
and Merdon, but Giradaux hurled a grenade into them
before ducldng behind a low-slung table. The concussion
flattened everything in the room.

Mclntyre was the first to recover. He rolled over onto
his stomach and pulled the pistol from his belt. But none
of the Komani were moving. Merdon climbed stiffly to
his feet, the right side of his tunic showing a spreading
stain of blood.

He pointed with his pistol. "This onehere in the
middlethat was Okatar."

Mclntyre pulled himself up. There was an ugly gash
along the side of his head. "Okay," he said. "Let's get
outta here."

The tent was filling with smoke now, and they could
hear the shouts of fighting men approaching. The three
Marines were still at the entrance, but two of them obvi-
ously were badly wounded.

"I'll get 'em," Giradaux said. He touched the control
stud at his waist that activated his jetbelt and rocketed
across the room to the first of the wounded men. The
trooper hurled his last grenade at the oncoming Komani,
then took off on his own jetbelt and started toward
Mclntyre.

The sergeant and Merdon had joined the one unhurt
Marine, at the entrance he was holding. Flames were
licking up the side of the tent, and the Komani were
beginning to organize their frantic, helter-skelter
attempts to recapture the tent.

Before Ciradaux could reach the other wounded
Marine, the trooper keeled over and a horde of Komani
boiled into the room.

Without an instant's hesitation, Giradaux jetted straight
upward, sliced open the tent's dome with his beamgun
as he flew, and disappeared through the roof.

Merdon took off at the same instant, leaping through
the entrance and spiralling up around the tent's curving
dome. Mclntyre grabbed the wounded Marine and started
to follow the Shinarian, but the trooper had collapsed
and could not control his jetbelt. Mclntyre hesitated for
a momentjust long enough for a Komani warrior to
reach him with a ceremonial broadsword gleaming wick-
edly in his upraised hand.



XX

The Boldest Step


Vorgens did not notice that Mclntyre was missing until
the following morning. It took a little while for him to
discover that the sergeant was nowhere in the Mobile
Force, that Merdon and a few Marines were also gone,
and that a scout car had disappeared.

The Watchman summoned Brigadier Aikens to the
dreadnaught's wardroom. In cold fury, Vorgens explained
the situation to him-

"I have only one question," Vorgens concluded, barely
able to keep his voice calm. "Did you authorize this raid
in which they must be engaged?"

"Raid?" Aikens asked.

"On the Komani camp," Vorgens snapped. "Did you
authorize it?"

Aikens laughed. "Until just now I didn't even know
about it."

"I see ..."

The wall communicator chimed, and a trooper's face
took form on the viewscreen. "Sir, there's a trooper here
at hatch four who demands to see you. Name of Gira-
daux. He says .. ."

"Send him here at once," Vorgens said.

It took a minute for Giradaux to get from the outside
hatch to the wardroom. He stepped wearily through the
doorway, ducldng his head to get his tall, lanky frame
through. He looked utterly bedraggled. His uniform was
caked with mud. His face was hollow-eyed and grimy.
His shoulders slumped dejectedly. He didn't bother to
salute. "We got him for you," he said to Vorgens.

"Got him?"

"Okatar. He's dead. I hope that makes you happy."

"What are you ..."

"We got Okatar," the trooper said, his eyes filling with
tears, "and they got th' Sarge. Four killed, one
woundedsir. Trooper Martinis and I weren't touched,
It's a big victory for yousir. A big victory."

"Mclntyre was killed?"

"That's right," Giradaux answered, his voice rising.
"Did you expect any of us to come back alive?"

"I didn't even know ..."

"You knew he'd try it. You must have knowm. He's
dead, and you"

"That's enough!" Aikens bellowed.

Giradaux snapped to attention.

"Get to your quarters, trooper. And don't budge a toe
out of them until you're told to. Move."

With deliberate care, Giradaux made a letter-perfect
salute. Aikens returned it, and the trooper pivoted on his
heel and left the wardroom. But Vorgens could still feel
the pain that he felt, and sensed the anger within him,

"Whatever possessed a veteran like Mclntyre toto
ignore my wishes, to go dashing off on his own?"

Aikens smiled grimly. "An army is built on discipline,
Watchman. Mclntyre saw that discipline shattered the
day you took over command. He was simply following
the example you setand you see where it leads."

Vorgens sat in stunned silence as Aikens got up from
his chair and strode out of the wardroom. He remained
there, alone, heedless of time, staring at the bare, metal
wall with unseeing eyes. Officers and orderlies would
open the door to the wardroom from time to time, and,
seeing him there and the expression on his face, would
silently shut the door and leave Vorgens to himself.

Finally, the exec stepped in, hesitated a moment at
the door, then walked to the chair next to Vorgens and
sat down. He placed a yellow dispatch film on the table-
top before the Watchman.

"The ships from Star Watch Headquarters have arrived
and taken up a parking orbit around the planet. When
do you want the troops to land?"

Vorgens blinked, and focused his thoughts on the
exec's question with an obvious effort.

"Tonight," he said at last. "Tell them to land under
cover of darkness. I don't want the'Komani to see how
few they are."

The exec nodded. "SirI've been thinking. We could
run the landing ships up and down as many times as you
wish. They don't have to have a full load of troops on
board. They can just shuttle back and forth between the
starships and the planet all day long, if you like. The
Komani won't know."

"That would only fool them temporarily," Vorgens
said.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Is there anything else?"

"Thatuh, that girl, sir. Altai. She's been waiting to
see you."

"No, I don't want to see anyone."

"Sir, she's been waiting almost all day."

"Oh? What time is it?"

"Nearly dark, sir."

"II didn't realize that I'd been here so long." He
ran a weary hand across his eyes. "All right, I suppose
I'll have to see her sooner or later. Send her in "

"Yes sir."

"Oh .. . and release Trooper Giradaux from his quar-
ters," Vorgens called out as the exec headed for the door.
"He's to resume his normal duties."

"Very well. sir."

The exec opened the door, stepped through, and held
it open for Altai. Vorgens rose and stood at the head of
the table as she walked across the compact little room
to him.

"II just realized that I don't know if Merdon's dead
or alive," the Watchman said.

"He's in the infirmary," Altai said, sitting down next
to Vorgens- "He lost quite a bit of blood, but otherwise
he's not in serious condition."

Vorgens sat down and said nothing.

"Merdon told me that the plan was his," she went on.
"He takes full responsibility for it."

The Watchman shook his head. "No. I'm in command.
Whatever happens is my responsibility."

"But you didn't know."

"I should have. I might have guessed at it. I know
Merdon doesn't give up an idea so easily. I gave Mcln-
tyre the impression that only Okatar's death could save
us from continual fighting- He gave up his life at my
suggestion, not Merdon's."

"But you can't blame yourself for everything that hap-
pens on Shinar. That's wrong!"

"I blame myself for what happened last night, and for
a lot more, besides. As I look back on it, I realize how
foolish I've been. I was going to bring peace to Shinar
single-handedly, if necessary! What a joke. All I've
brought is pain and death and unending fighting." He
ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. There were hol-
lows under his eyes, and his voice sounded husky.

"But youI .. ." Suddenly Altai was tongue-tied. "Do
you have a first name?" she blurted. "I can't call you
Vorgens, or Watchman."

In spite of himself, he smiled. "Ehml'n, in my native
language. The Terrans find it easier to say Emil."

"All rightEmil. Don't you realize how much you've
done for Shinarfor all of us?"

He shook his head.

"You're blaming yourself for all the lolling that's taken
place here. That's wrong! Thanks to you, the men who've
died have put a meaning to the deaths. They're accomp-
lishing something that only you have allowed them to
do."

"Yes," Vorgens replied. "Only me."

She reached out and grasped his hands on the table-
top. "You've given us something to fight fornot the
dream of complete freedom that Merdon wanted. Most
of the people never believed that such a dream was possi-
ble. That's why Merdon's followers were only among the
young. You've taught us that we may be able to gain real
freedom within the Empire."

"That might be an even wilder dream than Merdon's,"
Vorgens said.

She smiled at him. "You don't believe that, and neither
do I. You've shown us that Terrans and Shinarians can
work together. You've proved to us that we can think
and act for ourselves, that we can defend our homes
when necessary. Not by calling in warriors from another
landbut by ourselves.

"And you've shown me," she said more softly, "that a
man who hates fighting is a much better man to follow
than someone who has learned to enjoy it."

"That'svery kind of you," he said, looking into her
deep, dark eyes. "In all the bitterness and bloodshed of
these past months, the only touch of warmth and bright-
ness has been you. Knowing you was almost worth all
the rest."

"Was?"

"I've decided to leave Shinar. There are Star Watch
officers aboard the ships carrying our reinforcements.
Any one of them would be much better qualified to com-
mand the Imperial forces here than I am."

"No! You can't. They wouldn't know the situation here
the way you do. And how can our people trust a total
stranger?"

"What else can I do?"

"Finish the work that you started out to do! You're
the only man who has the grasp and the courage to try.
Don't give up now. Keep working to bring peace to Shi-
nar. Finish the work that we've all given so much to
especially your sergeant."

"Do you really think it might be possible?"

"It has to be," Altai insisted. "With Okatar gone now,
who knows what will happen next?"

"The next step," Vorgens muttered, half to himself,
"probably depends on us."

She said nothing, but sat back and watched his face
as he thought over the alternatives.

Suddenly Vorgens got up from his chair and strode to
the communicator on the wall near the door. He punched
out a call number on the directory buttons. The exec's
face showed up on the viewscreen.

"Please send my compliments to the commander of
the relief ships in orbit," the Watchman said, "and ask
him to delay landing the troops until full daylight at Capi-
tal City. The troops are to be landed just outside the
city. And your idea about running the shuttles an extra
few times to impress the Komani sounds good. Keep the
landing ships running all day."

"Yes sir," the exec replied, grinning.

"And another thingI want an aircar for tomorrow
morning, with a volunteer pilot. The car must be painted
white."

Thus the boldest step of all in the struggle for Shinar
was begun.

Vorgens should have been surprised to see Giradaux
standing at attention beside the white-painted aircar, but
somehow he was not,

"You volunteered to pilot me?" the Watchman asked
as he stepped up to the craft. He spoke softly enough
so that the officers and men standing nearby would not
overhear.

"Yes sir," Giradaux answered, looking straight ahead.
"I wanted towellto make up for what I said yester-
day, sir."

Vorgens nodded. "I understand."

Brigadier Aikens joined them. "If this pilot isn't satis-
factory ..."

"He'll do," Vorgens said.

"You're still determined to go through with this?"

The Watchman nodded. "Military action has taken us
about as far as we can expect. It's time to try a political
stroke."

Aikens frowned distastefully. "You probably won't get
through this alive."

"Perhaps." Vorgens admitted cheerfully, "but that
would be no great loss to you, would it?"

Before the brigadier could reply, Vorgens swung up
the access ladder and climbed into the aircar's open
cabin. Giradaux trotted around to the other side, got in,
and pulled down the plastic bubble top. The turbines
growled into life, spraying dust around the base of the
little craft. Aikens and the other men backed away as the
car climbed slowly, its engines rising in pitch as its alti-
tude increased. Finally the engines tilted forward, and
the aircar shot ahead through the morning sky.

Aikens shook his head as the car disappeared from sight.

"We'll never see them again," he said to the exec.

Vorgens spent most of the time aloft looking at the
tri-di viewscreen on the control panel before him. He
was watching the Imperial reinforcements land, just out-
side Capital City. A half-dozen needle-sleek, silvery land-
ing ships were sitting tail-down on the plain and
disgorging Marines. As he watched, two more settled
down slowly, making the ground beneath them shimmer
in the haze of their gray fields. Another ship took off,
rising slowly, catching the morning sun on her gleaming
bull.

It was an impressive sight, even though the actual
number of Marines was quite small.

Finally Giradaux touched his arm and said, "There it
is, sir."

Vorgens followed the trooper's gaze and saw the
Komani camp.

A ring of ceremonial fires, spaced every fifty yards or
so, circled the perimeter of the vast encampment. The
gaudy domed tents were decked with blood-red drapings.
Long processions of men, women and children were fil-
ing among the tents, heading for the center, where the
dead Kang lay.

In the place where Okatar's golden tent had stood
there now rose a tall pyre, unlit as yet. Heaped atop it
were piles of offeringsweapons, ornaments, warriors'
trappings, personal treasuresglittering in the sunshine.
Vorgens could see the processions of Komani all con-
verged on this pyre. Each person, no matter how young
or old, handed something to the warriors who were stack-
ing the offerings on the wooden structure that held the
dead Kang's coffin.

Suddenly the sky around them was black with Komani
flyers, buzzing angrily all around. Vorgens held up his
hands in the sign of peace.

One of the Komani pulled up close enough to touch
the aircar, and for several moments they flew side by
side, staring at each other. Finally the warrior touched a
jeweled band at his throat and then pointed to his lips.

"Try the radio," Vorgens said to Giradaux.

"Leave here at once," the warrior was snarling, "and
be grateful that we do not kill on a day of mourning.
Only our ancient custom has saved your lives today."

Vorgens replied evenly. "I have come to pay my
respects to your chieftain- I would like to land in your
camp, and do him what little honor I can."

The warrior looked thunderstruck. "You dare to sug-
gest that you should be allowed toto ..," He sputtered
with rage.

"Do you dare," Vorgens asked calmly, "to refuse an
honor to your Kang? How many chieftains have had an
enemy leader ask to see their pyre?"

The warrior hesitated. Finally he said. "This is not for
me to decide. The council must make the choice."

For nearly an hour, the Terran aircar circled slowly
over the camp, with its sullen escort of Komani flyers.

"You're depending an awful lot on their customs, ain't-
cha, sir?" Giradaux asked.

"They're ruled by custom," the Watchman replied. At
least, that's what they told us at the Academy.

At last the warrior told them to follow him to a land-
ing. They put down in a cleared area near the edge of
the camp. A knot of elders stood there, solemn and hos-
tile, as Vorgens climbed down from the aircar.

"I am Lensor," said one of the Komani, a grizzled,
wrinkled nobleman, slightly stooped with age. Still he
towered above the Watchman. "Until a new Kang is cho-
sen, I am leader of the council. By what right do you
presume to interrupt our sacred funeral ceremony?"

Vorgens said, "I have come to express my sorrow at
Okatar's death."

"Sorrow?"

"His death was not by my order. I did not know of it
until after the assassination took place. I did not wish to
have him lolled."

"Yet you are the leader of his enemies."

"Yes," Vorgens admitted, "but this battle has gone
beyond my controlbeyond anyone's control. The war
on Shinar has lost its meaning. We are fighting each
other now simply for the sake of fighting."

The Komani said nothing.

"I don't have much in the way of personal possessions
to add to the pyre," Vorgens went on, "but I do want to
give these, as a token of my regret." He unpinned the
diamond insignia clips from the collar of his tunic and
handed them to the nobleman.

For a moment, Lensor stood frozen, immobile. Then
slowly he extended his massive hand and accepted Vor-
gens' offering.

"I shall place them on the pyre myself," he said.

"Thank you. May I stay to witness the ceremony? I
could remain at this spot, if you wish."

The nobleman turned to his fellow council members.
None of them objected.

"Very well, you may remain. Andafter the ceremony,
you will accept our hospitality,"

"Agreed," Vorgens said. "Perhaps then we can talk of
ways to stop this killing."

"Yes, perhaps the time has come to talk of peace."



XXI

A Better Man


Sittas sat in Vorgens' tiny compartment aboard the dread-
naught while the Star Watchman packed his few belong-
ings in a travel Idt.

"This court-martial that you must face," the old priest
asked, "is it serious?"

"More than serious," Vorgens said. "I may be lucky
just to remain in the Star Watch."

"Even though you have stopped the fighting? Even
though the Komani have left Shinar?"

"That will have very little to do with it, I'm afraid. The
charges filed by Brigadier Aikens concern insubordina-
tion, armed mutiny, personal malice, and a few other
items."

"But the Imperial Senate wants you to report to them,
to present the case for Shinar's self-government."

Vorgens looked up from the travel Idt, which was rest-
ing on his bunk. "Yes, I've been ordered to appear before
the Senate, together with Clanthas and some of the other
Shinarian leaders, but that's got nothing to do with the
court-martial."

"Still, I doubt that you have much to fear," Sittas said
hopefully.

Vorgens shook his head. "I'd like to stay in the Star
Watch . .. butI'd do it all over again, if I had to!"

"You were right, and the brigadier was wrong," Sittas
said.

"I was lucky."

"The Komani have gone. Shinar is at peace."

"More luck than skill," Vorgens insisted. "Okatar's
death took most of the fight out of them. The way your
own people were fighting helped to make them realize
they had no glory to gain here. I guess that handful of
reinforcements was the last straw. So the Komani nobles
blamed everything on Okatar and went back home."

"Of course, your hint that more Terran reinforcements
might arrive at any time helped to push them in the
right direction."

Vorgens nodded. "I wanted to make certain that they
knew the Empire was ready and able to defend itself.
They took the bait and accepted a path to peace that
wouldn't shame them."

"Therefore, the court-martial must acquit you," Sittas
concluded. "None of this would have come to pass if
Brigadier Aikens had remained in charge."

"I wish you would be sitting on the bench at the trial,"
Vorgens answered, laughing. "I don't know. Nothing is
definitely settled yet. Suppose the Senate decides not to
allow Shinar any measure of self-government? Then the
court-martial could add treason and sedition to its list of
charges."

He looked around the compartment, satisfied himself
that he had everything he wanted, and snapped the kit
shut. He opened the door to the passageway.

"Do you seriously believe," Sittas asked, rising to join
him, "that the Empire will refuse our modest request?"

Vorgens grinned. "I think they'll listen to Clanthas and
agree with him. If they're wise, old friend, you have noth-
ing to fear."

"Yes," the priest agreed. "Sooner or later, wisdom wins
through."

"Sooner or later," Vorgens agreed. "But in the mean-
time a terrible toll of bloodshed can take place. A lot of
mengood mencan be sacrificed."

"The violent ones have had their day on Shinar," Sittas
said. "Now it is time for a wiser man, a better man, to
hold sway."

"I hope so," the Watchman said.

They reached the outer hatch and swung it open. The
bright, yellow sun sent a shaft of warmth into the pas-
sageway. Outside, Vorgens could see the landing ship
waiting to take him up to an orbiting starship and then
back to Earth. Clanthas and several others were clustered
by the base of the ship.

Vorgens clambered down the ladder to the ground,
then helped Sittas navigate the metal rungs. He turned
around to pick up his travel Idt, and found Altai standing
beside him. For the first time since he had met her, she
was wearing a dresssimple, feminine, beautiful.

"II was wondering if I'dget to see you," Vorgens
said.

Sittas cleared his throat and announced, "I believe I'll
chat with Clanthas for a moment. You two can join me
there."

"Did you think I wouldn't come to see you off?" Altai
asked, with a touch of mischief in the comers of her
mouth.

"I wasn't certain if you'd get a chance to."

"I won't say goodbye," she said, "because I expect you
to return to Shinar before the year is out."

"That might not be possible," Vorgens said quietly. "At
any rate, you'll soon have other things to occupy your
mind, without worrying about me. Merdon will be out
of the hospital soon. By the end of the year, you might
even be married."

"I don't think so," she said.

"We hardly know each other."

"We'll have a lot to talk about."

He grinned at her. "Yes, I suppose so. All right, I'll
be back, then. One way or another."

They walked together toward the men at the ship.
Within a few minutes Vorgens, Clanthas, and the others
had boarded. Altai and Sittas stepped back and watched
as the ship reverberated with power, took off majestically,
and disappeared into the distant sly.
