Holstering his pistol, he raced for the telecast station, to receive a
call from a Colonel Khalid ib'n Talal, a Zanzibar Arab, aboard the
approaching ship.
"I've one of Jonkvank's regiments, the Jeel-Feeders, armed with Terran
9-mm rifles and a few bazookas; I have a company of our Zirks, with
their mounts, and a battalion of the Sixth N.U.N.I.; I also have four
90-mm guns, Terran-manned," he reported. "What's the situation,
general, and where do you want me to land?"
Von Schlichten described the situation succinctly, in an ancient and
unprintable military cliche. "Try landing south of the Reservation, a
little west of the ruins of the labor-camp," he advised. "The bulk of
Firkked's army is in that section, and I want them run out as soon as
possible. We'll give you all the contragravity and fire support we
can."
The _Northern Star_ let down slowly, firing her guns and dropping
bombs; as she descended, rifle-fire spurted from all her lower-deck
portholes. There was cheering, human and Ulleran, from inside the
battered defense-perimeter; combat-cars, airjeeps, and improvised
bombers lifted out to strafe the Skilkans on the ground, and the four
airtanks moved out to take position and open fire with their 90-mm's,
helping to flush King Firkked's regulars and auxiliaries out of the
gullies and ruins and drive them south along the mountain, away from
where the ship would land and also away from the city of Skilk. The
_Northern Star_ set down quickly, and troops and artillery began to be
unloaded, joining in the fighting.
It was five hundred miles to Krink; three hours after lifting out, the
_Northern Star_ was back again, with two more of King Jonkvank's
infantry regiments, and by 1300, when the fourth load arrived from
Krink, the fighting was entirely on the eastern bank of the dry Hoork
River. This last contingent of reenforcements was landed in the
eastern suburbs of Skilk and began fighting their way into the city
from the rear.
It was evident, however, that the pacification of Skilk would not be
accomplished as rapidly as von Schlichten wished--street fighting,
against a determined enemy, is notoriously slow work--and he decided
to risk the _Northern Star_ in an attack against the Palace itself,
and, over the objections of Paula Quinton, Jules Keaveney, and Barney
Mordkovitz, to lead the attack in person.
Inside the city, he found that the Zirk cavalry from Krink had thrust
up one of the broader streets to within a thousand yards of the
Palace, and, supported by infantry, contragravity, and a couple of
airtanks, were pounding and hacking at a mass of Skilkans whose
uniform lack of costume prevented distinguishing between soldiery and
townsfolk. Very few of these, he observed, seemed to be using
firearms; with his glasses, he could see them shooting with long
northern air-rifles and a few Takkad Sea crossbows. Either weapon
would shoot clear through a Terran or half-way through an Ulleran at
fifty yards, but at over two hundred they were almost harmless. There
were a few fires still burning from the bombardment of the night
before--Ulleran, and particularly North Ulleran, cities did not burn
well--and the blaze which had consumed the bulk of Firkked's stock of
thermoconcentrate fuel had long ago burned out, leaving an area of six
or eight blocks blackened and lifeless.
The ship let down, while the six combat-cars which had accompanied her
buzzed the Palace roof, strafing it to keep it clear, and the Kragans
aboard fired with their rifles. She came to rest on seven-eighths
weight reduction, and even before the gangplanks were run out, the
Kragans were dropping to the flat roof, running to stairhead
penthouses and tossing grenades into them.
The taking of the Palace was a gruesome business. Knowing exactly how
much mercy they would have shown had they been storming the Residency,
Firkked's soldiers and courtiers fought desperately and had to be
exterminated, floor by floor, room by room, hallway by hallway. There
was some attempt at escape from the ground floor as von Schlichten and
his Kragans fought their way down from above, but the _Northern Star_
and her escort of combat-cars and airjeeps bombed and machine-gunned
and rocketed the fugitives from above, and the loyal Zirk cavalry,
bursting through the mob, came up shooting and lancing. By this time,
an aircar fitted with a sound-amplifier was circling overhead, while a
loyal native-officer of the Sixth N.U.N.I. shouted offers of quarter
and orders to the troops to spare any who surrendered.
Driving down from above, von Schlichten and his Kragans slithered over
floors increasingly greasy with yellow Ulleran blood. He had picked up
a broadsword at the foot of the first stairway down; a little later,
he tossed it aside in favor of another, better balanced and with a
better guard. There was a furious battle at the doorways of the throne
room; finally, climbing over the bodies of their own dead and the
enemy's, they were inside.
Here there was no question of quarter whatever, at least as long as
Firkked lived; North Ulleran nobles did not surrender under the eyes
of their king, and North Ulleran kings did not surrender their thrones
alive. There was also a tradition, of which von Schlichten was
mindful, that a king must only be killed by his conqueror, in personal
combat, with steel.
With a wedge of Kragan bayonets around him and the picked-up
broadsword in his hand, he fought his way to the throne, where Firkked
waited, a sword in one of his upper hands, his Spear of State in the
other, and a dagger in each lower hand. With his left hand, von
Schlichten detached the bayonet from the rifle of one of his followers
and went forward, trying not to think of the absurdity of a man of the
Sixth Century A.E., the representative of a civilized Chartered
Company, dueling to the death with swords with a barbarian king for a
throne he had promised to another barbarian, or of what could happen
on Uller if he allowed this four-armed monstrosity to kill him.
It was not as bad as it looked, however. The ornate Spear of State, in
spite of its long, cruel-looking blade, was not an especially good
combat-weapon, at least for one hand, and Firkked seemed confused by
the very abundance of his armament. After a few slashes and jabs, von
Schlichten knocked the unwieldy thing from his opponent's hand. This
raised a fearful ululation from the Skilkan nobility, who had stopped
fighting to watch the duel; evidently it was the very worst sort of a
bad omen. Firkked, seemingly relieved to be disencumbered of the
thing, caught his sword in both hands and aimed a roundhouse swing at
von Schlichten's head; von Schlichten dodged, crippled one of
Firkked's lower hands with a quick slash, and lunged at the royal
belly. Firkked used his remaining dagger to parry, backed a step
closer to his throne, and took another swing with his sword, which von
Schlichten parried on the bayonet in his left hand. Then, backing, he
slashed at the inside of Firkked's leg with the thousand-year-old
_coup-de-Jarnac_. Firkked, unable to support the weight of his
dense-tissued body on one leg, stumbled; von Schlichten ran him neatly
through the breast with his sword and through the throat with the
bayonet.
There was silence in the throne room for an instant, and then, with a
horrible collective shriek, the Skilkans threw down their weapons. One
of von Schlichten's Kragans slung his rifle and picked up the Spear of
State with all four hands, taking his post ceremoniously behind the
victor. A couple of others dragged the body of Firkked to the edge of
the dais, and one of them drew his leaf-shaped short-sword and
beheaded it.
* * * * *
At mid-afternoon, von Schlichten was on the roof of the Palace,
holding the Spear of State, with Firkked's head impaled on the point,
while a Terran technician aimed an audio-visual recorder.
"This," he said, with the geek-speaker in his mouth, "is King
Firkked's Spear of State, and here, upon it, is King Firkked's head.
Two days ago, Firkked was at peace with the Company, and Firkked was
King in Skilk. If he had not dared raise his feeble hand against the
might of the Uller Company, he would still be alive, and his Spear
would still be borne behind him. So must all those who rise against
the Company perish.... Cut."
The camera stopped. A Kragan came forward and took the Spear of State,
with its grisly burden, carrying it to a nearby wall and leaning it
up, like a piece of stage property no longer required for this scene
but needed for the next. Von Schlichten took out his geek-speaker,
wiped and pouched it, and took his cigarette case from his pocket.
"Well, this is the limit!" Paula Quinton, who had come up during the
filming of the scene, exploded. "I thought you had to kill him
yourself in order to encourage your soldiers; I didn't think you
wanted to make a movie of it to show your friends. I'm through; you
can find yourself a new adjutant!"
Von Schlichten tapped the cigarette on the gold-and-platinum case and
stared at her through his monocle.
"You can't resign," he told her. "Resignations of officers are not
being accepted until the end of hostilities. In any case, I shouldn't
care to have you go; you're the best adjutant, Hideyoshi O'Leary not
excepted, I ever had. Sit down, colonel." He lit the cigarette. "Your
politico-military education still needs a little filling in.
"At Grank, we have two ships. One is the _Northern Lights_, sister
ship of the _Northern Star_. The other is the cruiser _Procyon_, the
only real warship on Uller, with a main battery of four 200-mm guns.
How King Yoorkerk was able to get control of those ships I don't know,
but there will be a board of inquiry and maybe a couple of
courts-martial, when things get stabilized to a point where we can
afford such luxuries. As it is, we need those ships desperately, and
as soon as he gets in, I'm sending Hideyoshi O'Leary to Grank with
the _Northern Star_ and a load of Kragan Rifles, to pry them loose.
The audio-visual of which this is the last scene is going to be one of
the crowbars he's going to use."
"Oh! I get it!" Her eyes widened with pleasure at having finally
caught on; she accepted the cigarette and the light von Schlichten
offered. "Good old _nervenkrieg_!"
"Yes. A little idea I adapted from my Nazi ancestors of four hundred
and fifty years ago. Hideyoshi's going to treat King Yoorkerk to a
movie-show. Want to bet he won't loosen up and release _Procyon_ and
_Northern Lights_ and unblockade the Grank Residency after he sees
that shot of Firkked's head leering at him off the point of that
overgrown asagai? As I said, that's only the last scene, too. I've
been having scenes shot all through this fight; some of them are
really horrifying."
"But why did you have to fight Firkked yourself?" she asked. "You took
an awful chance, with two hands to his four."
"Not so awful, remember what I told you about the physical limitations
of Ullerans. But I had to kill him myself, with a sword; according to
local custom that makes me King of Skilk."
"Why, your Majesty!" She rose and curtsied mockingly. "But I thought
you were going to make Jonkvank King of Skilk."
He shook his head. "Just Viceroy," he corrected. "I'm handing the
Spear of State down to him, not up to him; he'll reign as my vassal,
and, consequently, as vassal of the Company, and before long, he won't
be much more at Krink either. That'll take a little longer--there'll
have to be military missions, and economic missions, and
trade-agreements, and all the rest of it, first--but he's on the way
to becoming a puppet-prince."
Half an hour later, a large and excessively ornate air-launch,
specially built at the Konkrook shipyards for King Jonkvank, was
sighted coming over the mountain from the east. An escort of
combat-cars was sent to meet it, and a battalion of Kragans and the
survivors of Firkked's court were drawn up on the Palace roof.
"His Majesty, Jonkvank, King of Krink!" the former herald of King
Firkked's court, now herald to King Carlos von Schlichten, shouted,
banging on a brass shield with the flat of his sword, as Jonkvank
descended from his launch, attended by a group of his nobles and his
Spear of State, with Hideyoshi O'Leary and Francis N. Shapiro
shepherding them. As the guests advanced across the roof, the herald
banged again on his shield.
"His Majesty, Carlos von Schlichten,"--which came out more or less as
Karlok vonk Zlikdenk--"King, by right of combat, of Skilk!"
Von Schlichten advanced to meet his fellow-monarch, his own Spear of
State, with Firkked's head still grinning from it, two paces behind
him.
Jonkvank stopped, his face contorted with saurian rage.
"What is this?" he demanded. "You told me that I could be King of
Skilk; is this how a Terran keeps his word?"
"A Terran's word is always good, Jonkvank," von Schlichten replied,
omitting the titles, as was proper in one sovereign addressing
another. "My word was that you should reign in Skilk, and my word
stands. But these things must be done decently, according to custom
and law. I killed Firkked in single combat. Had I not done so, the
Spear of Skilk would have been left lying, for any of the young of
Firkked to pick up. Is that not the law?"
Jonkvank nodded grudgingly. "It is the law," he admitted.
"Good. Now, since I killed Firkked in lawful manner, his Spear is
mine, and what is mine I can give as I please. I now give you the
Spear of Skilk, to carry in my name, as I promised."
The Kragan who was carrying the ceremonial weapon tossed the head of
Firkked from the point; another Kragan kicked it aside and advanced to
wipe the spear-blade with a rag. Von Schlichten took the Spear and
gave it to Jonkvank.
"This is not good!" one of the Skilkan nobles protested. He had a
better right than any of the others to protest; he had, a few hours
before, ridden in at the head of a company of his retainers to swear
loyalty to the Company. "That you should rule over us, yes. You killed
Firkked in single combat, and you are the soldier of the Company,
which is mighty, as all here have seen. But that this foreigner be
given the Spear of Skilk, that is not good!"
Some of the others, emboldened by his example, were jabbering
agreement.
"Listen, all of you!" von Schlichten shouted. "Here is no question of
Krink ruling over Skilk. Does it matter who holds the Spear of Skilk,
when he does so in my name? And King Jonkvank will be no foreigner. He
will come and live among you, and later he will travel back and forth
between Krink and Skilk, and he will leave the Spear of Krink in
Krink, and the Spear of Skilk in Skilk, and in Skilk he will be a
Skilkan."
That seemed to satisfy everybody except Jonkvank, and he had wit
enough not to make an issue of it. He even had the Spear of Krink
carried back aboard his launch, out of sight, and when he accompanied
von Schlichten, an hour later, to see Hideyoshi O'Leary off for Grank,
he had the Spear of Skilk carried behind him. When he was alone with
von Schlichten, in the room that had been King Firkked's bedchamber,
however, he exploded: "What is all this foolishness which you promised
these people in my name and which I must now carry out? That I am to
leave the Spear of Skilk in Skilk and the Spear of Krink in Krink, and
come here to live...."
"You wish to hold Skilk?" von Schlichten asked.
"I intend to hold Skilk. To begin with, there shall be a great killing
here. A very great killing: of all those who advised that fool of a
Firkked to start this business; of those who gave shelter to the false
prophet, Rakkeed, when he was here; of the faithless priests who gave
ear to his abominable heresies and allowed him to spew out his
blasphemies in the temples; of those who sent spies to Krink, to
corrupt and pervert my soldiers and nobles; of those who...."
"All that is as it should be," von Schlichten agreed. "Except that it
must be done quickly and all at once, before the memories of these
crimes fade from the minds of the people. And great care must be taken
to kill only those who can be proven to be guilty of something; thus
it will be said that the justice of King Jonkvank is terrible to
evildoers but a protection and a shield to those who keep the peace
and obey the laws. Thus you will gain the name of being a wise and
just king. And when the priests are to be killed it should be done
under the direction of those other priests who were faithful to the
gods and whom King Firkked drove out of their temples, and it must be
done in the name of the gods. Thus will you be esteemed a pious, and
not an impious, king. As to why you must be a Skilkan in Skilk, you
heard the words of Flurknurk, and how the others agreed with him. It
must not be allowed to seem that the city has come under foreign rule.
And you must not change the laws, unless the people petition you to do
so, nor must you increase the taxes, and you must not confiscate the
estates of those who are put to death, for the death of parents is
always forgiven before the loss of patrimonies. And you should select
certain Skilkan nobles, and become the father of their young, and
above all, you must leave none of the young of Firkked alive, to raise
rebellion against you later."
Jonkvank nodded, deeply impressed. "By the gods, Karlok vonk Zlikdenk,
this is wisdom! Now it is to be seen why the likes of Firkked cannot
prevail against you, or against the Company as long as you are the
Company's upper sword-arm!"
Honesty tempted von Schlichten, for a moment, to disclaim originality
for the principles he had just enunciated, even at the price of trying
to pronounce the name of Niccolo Machiavelli with a geek-speaker. On
second thought, however, considerations of policy restrained him. If
Jonkvank ever heard of _The Prince_, nothing would satisfy him short
of an Ulleran translation, and von Schlichten would have been just
about as happy over an Ulleran translation of a complete set of
Bethe-cycle bomb specifications.