IX

Von Schlichten raced for the telecast station, to receive a call from

a Colonel Khalid ib'n Talal, 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 Ullran, from inside the

battered defense-perimeter; combat-cars, airjeeps, and improvised

bombers lifted out to strafe the Skilkans on the ground, and the four

air-tanks 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

air-tanks, 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 Ullran 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--Ullran, and particularly North Ullran, 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-eights

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. They

had to fight for every inch downward.

Driving down from above, von Schlichten and his Kragans slithered over

floors increasingly greasy with yellow Ullran 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 Ullran nobles did not surrender under the eyes of

their king, and North Ullran 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 either 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 Ullr 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 ullulation 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 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 Ullr 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."

Von Schlichten tapped the cigarette on the gold-and-platinum case and

stared at her through his monocle.

"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 ships of the _Northern

Star_. The other is the cruiser _Procyon_, the only real warship on

Ullr, 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."

"But why did you have to fight Firkked, yourself?" she asked.

"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 X. 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. "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

at all 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 is how it must be."

* * * * *

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. 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. 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.

* * * * *

The sun slid lower and lower toward the horizon behind them as the

aircar bulleted south along the broad valley and dry bed of the Hoork

River, nearing the zone of equal day and night. Hassan Bogdanoff drove

while Harry Quong finished his lunch, then changed places to begin his

own. Von Schlichten got two bottles of beer from the refrigerated

section of the lunch-hamper and opened one for Paula Quinton and one

for himself.

"What are we going to do with these geeks,"--she was using the nasty

and derogatory word unconsciously and by custom, now--"after this is

all over? We can't just tell them, 'Jolly well played; nice game,

wasn't it?' and go back to where we were Wednesday evening."

"No, we can't. There's going to have to be a Terran seizure of

political power in every part of this planet that we occupy, and as

soon as we're consolidated around the north of Takkad Sea, we're going

to have to move in elsewhere," he replied. "Keegark, Konkrook, and the

Free Cities, of course, will be relatively easy. They're in arms

against us now, and we can take them over by force. We had to make

that deal with Jonkvank, or, rather, I did, so that will be a slower

process, but we'll get it done in time. If I know that pair as well as

I think I do, Jonkvank and Yoorkerk will give us plenty of pretexts,

before long. Then, we can start giving them government by law instead

of by royal decree, and real courts of justice; put an end to the

head-payment system, and to these arbitrary mass arrests and

tax-delinquency imprisonments that are nothing but slave-raids by the

geek princes on their own people. And, gradually, abolish serfdom. In

a couple of centuries, this planet will be fit to admit to the

Federation, like Odin and Freya."

"Well, won't that depend a lot on whom the Company sends here to take

Harrington's place?"

"Unless I'm much mistaken, the Company will confirm me," he replied.

"Administration on Ullr is going to be a military matter for a long

time to come, and even the Banking Cartel and the mercantile interests

in the Company are going to realize that, and see the necessity for

taking political control. And just to make sure, I'm sending Hid

O'Leary to Terra on the next ship, to make a full report on the

situation."

"You think it'll be cleared up by then? The _City of Montevideo_ is

due in from Niflheim in a little under three months."

"It'll have to be cleared up by then. We can't keep this war going

more than a month, at the present rate. Police-action, and mopping-up,

yes; full-scale war, no."

"Ammunition?" she asked.

* * * * *

He looked at her in pleased surprise. "Your education has been

progressing, at that," he said. "You know, a lot of professional

officers, even up to field rank in the combat branches, seem to think

that ammo comes down miraculously from Heaven, in contragravity

lorries, every time they pray into a radio for it. It doesn't; it has

to be produced as fast as it's expended, and we haven't been doing

that. So we'll have to lick these geeks before it runs out, because we

can't lick them with gun-butts and bayonets."

"Well, how about nuclear weapons?" Paula asked. "I hate to suggest

it--I know what they did on Mimir, and Fenris, and Midgard, and what

they did on Terra, during the First Century. But it may be our only

chance."

He finished his beer and shoved the bottle into the waste-receiver,

then got out his cigarettes. "There isn't a single nuclear bomb on the

planet. The Company's always refused to allow them to be manufactured

or stockpiled here."

"I don't think there'd be any criticism of your making them, now,

general. And there's certainly plenty of plutonium. You could make

A-bombs, at least."

"There isn't anybody here who even knows how to make one. Most of our

nuclear engineers could work one up, in about three months, when we'd

either not need one or not be alive."

"Dr. Gomes, who came in on the _Pretoria_, two weeks ago, can make

them," she contradicted. "He built at, least a dozen of them on

Niflheim, to use in activating volcanoes and bringing ore-bearing lava

to the surface."

Von Schlichten's hand, bringing his lighter to the tip of his

cigarette, paused for a second. Then he completed the operation,

snapped it shut, and put it away.

"When did all this happen?"

She took time out for mental arithmetic; even a spaceship officer had

to do that, when a question of interstellar time-relations arose.

"About three-fifty days ago, Galactic Standard. They'd put off the

first shot, six bombs, before I got in from Terra. I saw the second

shot a day or so before I left Niflheim on the _Canberra_. Dr. Gomes

had to stay over till the _Pretoria_ to put off the third shot. Why?"

"Did you run into a geek named Gorkrink, while you were on Nif?" he

asked her. "And what sort of work was he doing?"

* * * * *

"Gorkrink? I don't seem to remember.... Oh, yes! He was helping Dr.

Murillo, the seismologist. His year was up after the second shot; he

came to Ullr on the _Canberra_. Dr. Murillo was sorry to lose him. He

understood Lingua Terra perfectly; Dr. Murillo could talk to him, the

way you do with Kankad, without using a geek-speaker."

"Well, but what sort of work ...?"

"Helping set and fire the A-bombs.... _Oh! Good Lord!_"

"You can say that again, and deal in Allah, Shiva, and Kali," von

Schlichten told her. "Especially Kali.... Harry! See if you can get

some more speed out of this can. I want to get to Konkrook while it's

still there!"

It wouldn't be there long, the way things looked. King Orgzild had

four tons of plutonium, and with Prince Gorkrink probably able to

build A-bombs, Keegark would be set to bring Ullr its first taste of

nuclear warfare. Von Schlichten shuddered as he pictured that

happening. At the moment, shuddering was about the only thing he could

do.

X

[Illustration]

It was full dark when Konkrook came in view beyond the East Konk

Mountains, a lurid smear on the underside of the clouds, and at

Gongonk Island and at the Company farms to the south, a couple of

bunches of searchlights were fingering about in the sky. When von

Schlichten turned on the outside sound-pickup, he could hear the

distant tom-tomming of heavy guns, and the crash of shells and bombs.

Keeping the car high enough to be above the trajectories of incoming

shells, Harry Quong circled over the city while Hassan Bogdanoff

talked to Gongonk Inland on the radio.

The city was in a bad way. There were seventy-five to a hundred big

fires going, and a new one started in a rising ball of thermoconcentrate

flame while they watched. The three gun-cutters, _Elmoran_, _Gaucho_ and

_Bushranger_, and about fifty big freight lorries converted to bombers,

were shuttling back and forth between the island and the city. The Royal

Palace was on fire from end to end, and the entire waterfront and

industrial district were in flames. Combat-cars and air jeeps were

diving in to shell and rocket and machine-gun streets and buildings. He

saw six big bomber-lorries move in dignified procession to unload, one

after the other, on a row of buildings along what the Terrans called

South Tenth Street, and on the roofs of buildings a block away, red and

blue flares were burning, and he could see figures, both human and

Ullran, setting up mortars and machine-guns.

Landing on the top stage of Company House, on the island, they were

met by a Terran whom von Schlichten had seen, a few days ago, bossing

native labor at the spaceport, but who was now wearing a major's

insignia. He greeted von Schlichten with a salute which he must have

learned from some movie about the ancient French Foreign Legion. Von

Schlichten seriously returned it in kind.

"Everybody's down in the Governor-General's office, sir," he said.

"Your office, that is. King Kankad's here with us, too."

He accompanied them to the elevator, then turned to a telephone; when

von Schlichten and Paula reached the office, everybody was crowded at

the door to greet them: Themistocles M'zangwe, his arm in a sling;

Hans Meyerstein, the Johannesburg lawyer, who seemed to have even more

Bantu blood than the brigadier-general; Morton Buhrmann, the

Commercial Superintendent; Laviola, the Fiscal Secretary; a dozen or

so other officers and civil administrators. There was a hubbub of

greetings, and he was pleased to detect as much real warmth from the

civil administration crowd as from the officers.

"Well, I'm glad to be back with you," he replied, generally. "And let

me present Colonel Paula Quinton, my new adjutant; Hideyoshi O'Leary's

on duty in the North.... Them, this was a perfectly splendid piece of

work, here; you can take this not only as a personal congratulation,

but as a sort of unit citation for the whole crowd. You've all behaved

above praise." He turned to King Kankad, who was wearing a pair of

automatics in shoulder-holsters for his upper hands and another pair

in cross-body belt holsters for his lower. "And what I've said for

anybody else goes double for you, Kankad," he added, clapping the

Kragan on the shoulder.

"All he did was save the lot of us!" M'zangwe said. "We were hanging

on by our fingernails here till his people started coming in. And

then, after you sent the _Aldebaran_...."

"Where is the _Aldebaran_, by the way? I didn't see her when I came

in."

"Based on Kankad's, flying bombardment against Keegark, and keeping an

eye out for those ships. Prinsloo caught the _De Wett_ in the docks

there and smashed her, but the _Jan Smuts_ got away, and we haven't

been able to locate the _Oom Paul Kruger_, either. They're probably

both on the Eastern Shore, gathering up reenforcements for Orgzild,"

M'zangwe said.

"Our ability to move troops rapidly is what's kept us on top this

long, and Orgzild's had plenty of time to realize it," von Schlichten

said. "When we get _Procyon_ down here, I'm going to send her out,

with a screen of light scout-vehicles, to find those ships and get rid

of them.... How's Hid been making out, at Grank, by the way? I didn't

have my car-radio on, coming down."

That touched off another hubbub: "Haven't you heard, general?" ... "Oh,

my God, this is simply out of this continuum!" ... "Well, tell him,

somebody!" ... "No, get Hid on the screen; it's his story!"

Somebody busied himself at the switchboard. The rest of them sat down

at the long conference-table. Laviola and Meyerstein and Buhrmann were

especially obsequious in seating von Schlichten in Sid Harrington's

old chair, and in getting a chair for Paula Quinton. After awhile, the

jumbled colors on the big screen resolved themselves into an image of

Hideyoshi O'Leary, grinning like a pussycat beside an empty

goldfish-bowl, licking its chops.

"Well, what happened?" von Schlichten asked, after they had exchanged

greetings. "How did Yoorkerk like the movies? And did you get the

_Procyon_ and the _Northern Lights_ loose?"

"Yoorkerk was deeply impressed," O'Leary replied. "His story is that

he is and always was the true and ever-loving friend of the Company;

he acted to prevent quote certain disloyal elements unquote from

harming the people and property of the Company. _Procyon's_ on the way

to Konkrook. I'm holding _Northern Lights_ here and _Northern Star_ at

Skilk; where do you want them sent?"

"Leave _Northern Star_ at Skilk, for the time being. Tell the

Company's great and good friend King Yoorkerk that the Company expects

him to contribute some soldiers for the campaign here and against

Keegark, when that starts; be sure you get the best-armed and

best-trained regiments he has, and get them down here as soon as

possible. Don't send any of your Kragans or Karamessinis' troops here,

though; hold them in Grank till we make sure of the quality of

Yoorkerk's friendship."

"Well, general, I think we can be pretty sure, now. You see, he turned

Rakkeed the Prophet over to me...."

"_What_?" Von Schlichten felt his monocle starting to slip and took a

firmer grip on it. "Who?"

"Pay me, Them; he didn't drop it," Hideyoshi O'Leary said. "Why,

Rakkeed the Prophet. Yoorkerk was holding our ships and our people in

case we lost; he was also holding Rakkeed at the Palace in case we

won. Of course, Rakkeed thought he was an honored guest, right up till

Yoorkerk's guards dragged him in and turned him over to us...."

"That geek," von Schlichten said, "is too smart for his own good. Some

of these days he's going to play both ends against the middle and both

ends'll fold in on him and smash him." A suspicion occurred to him.

"You sure this is Rakkeed? It would be just like Yoorkerk to try to

sell us a ringer."

O'Leary shook his head solemnly. "I thought of that, right away. This

is the real article; Karamessinis' Constabulary and Intelligence

officers certified him for me. What do you want me to do, send him

down to Konkrook?"

Von Schlichten shook his head. "Get the priests of the locally

venerated gods to put him on trial for blasphemy, heresy,

impersonating a prophet, practicing witchcraft without a license, or

any other ecclesiastical crimes you or they can think of. Then, after

he's been given a scrupulously fair trial, have the soldiers of King

Yoorkerk behead him, and stick his head up over a big sign, in all

native languages, 'Rakkeed the False Prophet.' And have audio-visuals

made of the whole business, trial and execution, and be sure that the

priests and Yoorkerk's officers are in the foreground and our people

stay out of the pictures."

"Soap and towels, for General Pontius von Pilate!" Paula Quinton

called out.

"That's an idea; I was wondering what to give Yoorkerk as a

testimonial present," Hideyoshi O'Leary said. "A nice thirty-piece

silver set!"

"Quite appropriate," von Schlichten approved. "Well, you did a first-class

job. I want you back with us as soon as possible--incidentally, you're now

a brigadier-general--but not till the situation Grank-Krink-Skilk is

stabilized. And, eventually, you'll probably have to set up permanent

headquarters in the North."

* * * * *

After Hideyoshi O'Leary had thanked him and signed off, and the screen

was dark again, he turned to the others.

"Well, gentlemen, I don't think we need worry too much about the

North, for the next few days. How long do you estimate this operation

against Konkrook's going to take, to complete pacification, Them?"

"How complete is complete pacification, general?" Themistocles

M'zangwe wanted to know. "If you mean to the end of organized

resistance by larger than squad-size groups, I'd say three days, give

or take twelve hours. Of course, there'll be small groups holding out

for a couple of weeks, particularly in the farming country and back in

the forest...."

"We can forget them; that's minor-tactics stuff. We'll need to keep

some kind of an occupation force here for some time; they can deal

with that. We'll have to get to work on Keegark, as soon as possible;

after we've reduced Keegark, we'll be able to reorganize for a

campaign against the Free Cities on the Eastern Shore."

"Begging your pardon, general, but reduce is a mild word for what we

ought to do to Keegark," Hans Meyerstein said. "We ought to raze that

city as flat as a football field, and then play football on it with

King Orgzild's head."

"Any special reason?" von Schlichten asked. "In addition to the

Blount-Lemoyne massacre, that is?"

"I should say so, general!" Themistocles M'zangwe backed Meyerstein

up. "Bob, you tell him."

Colonel Robert Grinell, the Intelligence officer, got up and took the

cigar out of his mouth. He was short and round-bodied and bald-headed,

but he was old Terran Federation Regular Army through and through.

"Well, general, we've been finding out quite a bit about the genesis

of this business, lately," he said. "From up North, it probably looked

like an all-Rakkeed show; that's how it was supposed to look. But the

whole thing was hatched at Keegark, by King Orgzild. We've managed to

capture a few prominent Konkrookans"--he named half a dozen--"who've

been made to talk, and a number of others have come in voluntarily and

furnished information. Orgzild conceived the scheme in the beginning;

Rakkeed was just the messenger-boy. My face gets the color of the

Company trademark every time I think that the whole thing was planned

for over a year, right under our noses, even to the signal that was to

touch the whole thing off...."

"The poisoning of Sid Harrington, and our announcement of his death?"

von Schlichten asked.

"You figured that out yourself, sir? Well, that was most of it."

Grinell went on to elaborate, while von Schlichten tried to keep the

impatience out of his face. Beside him, Paula Quinton was fidgeting,

too; she was thinking, as he was, of what King Orgzild and Prince

Gorkrink were doing now. "And I know positively that the order for the

poisoning of Sid Harrington came from the Keegarkan Embassy, here, and

was passed down through Gurgurk and Keeluk to this geek here who

actually put the poison in the whiskey."

"Yes. I agree that Keegark should be wiped out, and I'd like to have

an immediate estimate on the time it'll take to build a nuclear bomb

to do the job. One of the old-fashioned plutonium fission A-bombs will

do quite well."

Everybody turned quickly. There was a momentary silence, and then

Colonel Evan Colbert, of the Fourth Kragan Rifles, the senior officer

under Themistocles M'zangwe, found his voice.

"If that's an order, general, we'll get it done. But I'd like to

remind you, first, of the Company policy on nuclear weapons on this

planet."

"I'm aware of that policy. I'm also aware of the reason for it. We've

been compelled, because of the lack of natural fuel on Ullr, to set up

nuclear power reactors and furnish large quantities of plutonium to

the geeks to fuel them. The Company doesn't want the natives here

learning of the possibility of using nuclear energy for destructive

purposes. Well, gentlemen, that's a dead issue. They've learned it,

thanks to our people on Niflheim, and unless my estimate is entirely

wrong, King Orgzild already has at least one First-Century

Nagasaki-type plutonium bomb. I am inclined to believe that he had at

least one such bomb, probably more, at the time when orders were sent

to his embassy, here, for the poisoning of Governor-General

Harrington."

With that, he selected a cigarette from his case, offered it to Paula,

and snapped his lighter. She had hers lit, and he was puffing on his

own, when the others finally realized what he had told them.

"That's impossible!" somebody down the table shouted, as though that

would make it so. Another--one of the civil administration

crowd--almost exactly repeated Jules Keaveney's words at Skilk: "What

the hell was Intelligence doing; sleeping?"

"General von Schlichten," Colonel Grinell took oblique cognizance of

the question. "You've just made, by implication, a most grave charge

against my department. If you're not mistaken in what you've just

said, I deserve to be court-martialled."

"I couldn't bring charges against you, colonel; if it were a

court-martial matter, I'd belong in the dock with you," von Schlichten

told him. "It seems, though, that a piece of vital information was

possessed by those who were unable to evaluate it, and until this

afternoon, I was ignorant of its existence. Colonel Quinton, suppose

you repeat what you told me, on the way down from Skilk."

"Well, general, don't you think we ought to have Dr. Gomes do that?"

Paula asked. "After all, he constructed those bombs on Niflheim, and

it'll be he who'll have to build ours."

* * * * *

Von Schlichten nodded in instant agreement.

"That's right." He looked around. "Where's Dr. Lourenço Gomes, the

nuclear engineer who came in on the _Pretoria_, two weeks ago? Send

out for him, and get him in here to me at once."

There was another awkward silence. Then Kent Pickering, the chief of

the Gongonk Island power-plant, cleared his throat.

"Why, general, didn't you know? Dr. Gomes is dead. He was killed

during the first half hour of the uprising."