Battlefield Earth (77 page)

     The spacecraft Aknar II rode in orbit four hundred twenty-one miles above the planet Earth.

The small gray man sat in a small gray office in the ship. He was looking at small gray instruments.

He was only partly finished with a critical analysis and he was not even vaguely satisfied with it.

A bottle of pills sat on his desk, pills for indigestion. His job had its drawbacks. Drinking all manner of hospitable offerings including yarb tea had upset his stomach.

The small gray man was deeply troubled. The problems which assailed such a position as his were never easy: they required the most conservative possible judgment. He had faced many situations in his long life, a large number of them involving the most dangerous and overwhelming elements. But at no time- he did a hasty calculation with a rolling calculator- in three hundred thirteen thousand years had he or his predecessors ever been confronted with the ruin potential of this one.

He sighed and took another indigestion pill. This last packet of information that his communicator had given him contained elements which defied even the most expert mathematical dissection and reassembly. There were explosive elements in all this which could well wreak havoc.

For one thing, a lightning storm had grossly interfered with the clarity of the first item. An infrabeam sound transmitter, no matter how narrowly it could be focused, was after all an electronic device, and interference was not only possible, it had happened. He considered himself no

technician; that was not his role. But his technicians aboard could not get it clarified either. Compounding his trouble was this delay in all communications to competent labs. He was two and a half months in travel time away from any such help.

Wearily, he ran the data of the first item through the display machine for the seventh time.

There was the compound, the old central Psychlo minesite of the planet. There were some men in hiding behind rocks holding weapons. There was the arrival of the car, the departure of the first man into the compound. Then three men getting out of the car, two of them with weapons held on the third.

He had tried and tried to get a clearer picture of the third man but the interference due to the lightning was really bad. He once more got out one

of the several “one-credit bank notes” he had managed to procure and studied the picture. But he could not be sure it was the same man. It was useless to call in a technician again. He had already done that.

He let the signal decode into running visual again and spin forward. Then there came this second car. Truck. A small figure leaping out holding some sort of weapon. The small figure racing forward to attack. It didn’t

really look like an attack. The man behind the rock might have thought it was an attack. Then the firing…

He skimmed through the battle. Yes, it really must be the one on the bank note. What a perfectly poor transmission! They were usually so clear.

Then the car followed by horses and the man getting up on the car and talking to a crowd and holding the small body…

This was where he had to have clarity and he didn’t have it. The vocal was so interrupted by the lightning that it was just sparks. Only a few bits came through. The picture showed arms being broken out. But not used. Was it a plea for no war by the man on the car?

Who had that small body been to cause all this? A prince of a reigning

sovereign?

Well, thankfully the infrabeam transmission from the island country was better and the speech there came strong and clear. And it promised a war!

But against whom? Why?

It was the same man. The ship he had gotten into had been carefully tracked as it went over the pole of the planet.

One could not be absolutely sure, however, that it was the same man as on the bank note- firelight was a very long band and almost went off the bottom of the infrabeam spectrum.

The small gray man sighed again. He could not be sure at all. Not sure enough for a vital critical analysis.

He was just reaching for another pill when a light blinked from the people up on the flight deck- there was nothing much to do while in orbit and a warning signal was a rarity. He tapped a button to light a screen and get the picture being relayed to him. And then he looked out the port.

Ah, yes. He had half-expected this. A war vessel! There it was, settling into orbit near them. Bright and shining against the black sky. Always

unnecessarily dramatic, these war vessels. Let’s see, diamond with a slash, the insignia of the Tolneps. He had wondered when they would arrive.

He flittered a rolling, lighted list in a round indicator on his desk. Tolnep…Tolnep war cruisers…did that one out there have a diamond-shaped bridge? Yes…Vulcor class. Vulcor…specifications…ah, here it was. “List weight two thousand tons, solar powered, main battery 64 Maxun blast cannons….” How dull these endless specifications, who cared about the number of blast-tight bulkheads…ah. “…complement five hundred twenty-four Tolnep marines, sixty-three operating crew…” Goodness, wouldn’t one think that the computer clerks would realize the important items one would really want? “… commanded by a half-captain, autonomous authority over local tactical conditions but without authority over strategic decisions”!

That was what the small gray man was looking for.

The local space communication buzzer went on. The small gray man turned a visio screen on. The hard face of a Tolnep topped by a small shield helmet appeared. A half-captain insignia on the helmet. The small gray man knew he was talking to the vessel’s commander. The small gray man flipped a little switch so the Tolnep’s screen would show his own face.

“Good spacing to you, sir,” said the Tolnep. “I am Rogodeter Snowl.” He was speaking Psychlo, which was pretty universal. He adjusted thick glasses to better see the small gray man.

“Greetings, half-captain,” said the small gray man. “Could we be of service to you?”

“Why yes, Your Excellency. You might possibly oblige us with any vital information you might have regarding this planet.”

The small gray man sighed. “I am very much afraid, half-captain, that anything I have to give you has not yet resolved itself to critical analysis. It would not be complete, and while we are always happy to be of service, I fear we might erroneously advise you.”

“Ah. Well, it won’t take very long to organize things here,” said the Tolnep. “It’s been a very long voyage and my crew is still in deep sleep, but we can launch a party in the next few hours and obtain preliminary data.”

The small gray man was afraid he would say that. “l, of course, would not presume to thwart your intentions, half-captain, but I should think it would be very inadvisable.”

“Oh? But a quick smash-bash, a few beings seized from here and there, and a rapid interrogation should give us all we need.”

“Half-captain, I feel I should advise you that I do not think it would yield fruit. I have been collecting information for some time now and have here anything you would get. I can transmit it over to you, whatever I happen to have.”

“That would be very thoughtful of you, Your Excellency. But why not a quick smash-bash minor raid? I detect some thoughts on this.”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” said the small gray man, “you do detect some reservations and it is very acute of you. It might be important to stand off and wait.”

“Do you think they’re the ones?” asked Snowl. “My dear fellow,” said the small gray man, “I believe there are three hundred different planetary suspects.”

“Three hundred two, I think,” said Snowl. “At least that is the rumored figure.

“We cannot tell you that this is the one,” said the small gray man, “and I can’t give you comparative evidence about other planets and systems for I am, of course, concerned with simply this sector, as you are. But it is my belief, based on very thin evidence, that this just could be the one.”

“Oh, I say!” said the Tolnep. “That’s promising!”

“We are not in a position to adjudicate at this time. But it could be that a raid by you might disturb what appears to be a very critical political situation down there and possibly disturb it to our disfavor.”

“You’re advising us to wait, then,” said the Tolnep.

“Well, yes,” said the small gray man. “I will send you across any file data I have been collecting and I think you will reach the same conclusion.”

“It’s difficult,” said the Tolnep. “No raids, no prize money is our position. But we do have this other strategic thing.

“Yes, and we should not make any tactical move that might upset it.”

“Ah,” said the Tolnep. Then, “How long would you think we should delay? Days, months, years?”

“Months, I should think.”

The Tolnep sighed. Then brightened and smiled- a Tolnep smile was a bit frightening since their fangs were poison-’All right, Your Excellency. It is very courteous of you to offer the information and I shall be very happy to review it. By the way, can we offer you escort and protection? I should think a Hockner ship might show up and they are quite nasty, you know.”

“I do thank you, half-captain,” said the small gray man wearily, “but as you know, we have no quarrel, ourselves, with the Hockners.”

“No, of course not,” said the Tolnep.

“Any supplies, anything like that we can provide?”

“Thank you, not just now. Possibly later. Your courtesy is always appreciated.”

“We’re already in your debt,” said the Tolnep and laughed. “Come across for some tea sometime.” He clicked off.

The very thought of more tea made the small gray man’s stomach hurt.

He reached for another indigestion pill. All things considered, this really was the worst hard-core problem that had ever come to his desk.

The indigestion pill was about to take effect when he suddenly realized that the Bolbods, the Hawvins, and who knows who else might show up. He hoped they wouldn’t quarrel with one another. In the situation he was in, it took months now to get proper reports home and months to hear anything. He felt very much on his own.

He looked out the port again at the gun-bristling monster of a war vessel, flashing along beside them in the glaring sunlight. Tough beings, the Tolneps. But really not much worse than Bolbods or Hockners.

He glanced down at the planet face below them. Was it really the one? If it were, in one way it would be a relief.

But if it were, what violence could go shooting down at it!

His sigh was very deep.

     Terl was purring. He was moving into his office today!

There had been a few bad moments. This morning he had sent Lars into it to make sure it was not booby-trapped- better Lars blew up than he.

The compound in general had been in a bit of a turmoil. General Snith had come down and commandeered all the dead bodies of the slaughtered commando and had had a fight with a couple of his officers, apparently concerning mess table allocations. But Snith had resolved all that. There were twenty-eight bodies, eighteen active commandos. So he had hit on the masterful solution of one body to be issued to each commando, two to the officer’s mess, six to the women and children, and two to his own table. So that had died down.

The thirteenth commando had cleaned the place up and the fifth commando had taken over the duty, all very smooth and military. They were all very polite to Terl and so it was obvious they knew who their boss was.

But right after things had smoothed out, Lars came screaming back to the cage to tell Terl that the place was booby-trapped. Worse, he didn’t have a clue how to disarm a booby trap.

Knowing he had better not let any of these Brigantes loose in the place-they’d stink it up and maybe blow it up-Terl himself had had to go in to handle the trap.

It was right inside the kneehole of the desk. Knowing that one booby trap could have another under it to explode when the top one was removed, he had taken a lot of care to remove it.

When he had disarmed it, he was about to throw it out when he saw that it had hairs stuck in it. They were gray Psychlo wrist hairs! Ker’s fur was orange. And somebody had broken a claw tip while pushing the plastic explosive down around the edges: it was too big a tip for it to be Ker’s.

On hearing about this booby trap the first time, Terl had supposed it would be the animal’s doings. According to what he had learned, the animal had remained behind after the other two left and probably had planted this trap.

The fact that the animal had not come up and killed him too when the animal had wiped out this commando had troubled Terl. This was the second or third time the animal had had a chance to kill him but had not done so. Eerie. Unnatural. So he had figured out that the animal, having planted this booby trap, thought it was all cared for.

These bits of fur and the claw tip changed that. Once more, the animal had not killed him or tried to. Very abnormal behavior. Terl finally came to a conclusion, however. The animal had been so beaten about by Terl that the animal was afraid of him. That was the right answer!

Terl was comfortable with this until he realized that it was the Psychlos down

In the lower dormitory who had sneaked up here and planted the trap.

Instantly he demanded their slaughter. He didn’t want them around anyway. But Lars had come back and said that that very morning all thirty-three of them had been removed under cadet guard and had been shipped overseas- and here was the requisition for goo-food, kerbango, breathe-gas, etc., to prove it. So Terl got over his fright and began to collect the odd bits such as the dictionary and extra breathe-gas vials from the cage, walked out of it forever, and went back to his office.

What a relief to be out of the sun and air of this accursed planet!

He locked the door and turned on the breathe-gas circulator and soon he could take off his mask. What a relief to have a mask off.

Terl looked around. Some things had been moved out. No drone recorders. Who wanted them? No radio links. So what? Compound intercoms all dead. Who cared?

But the place was all set up to work. He thought one table was out of position and sought to move it and found it was welded down. Even welded down with an armor weld! Ho, ho! Somebody wanted that table in exactly that place! Ah, ha! That was why the animal remained behind. The place was bugged!

They hadn’t moved his clothes out. Later, he would dress and become civilized again. But just now he wanted his green dress boots. There they were. They even had dust on the floor around them and hadn’t been moved an inch. He turned the right boot upside-down, twisted the heel, and the cabinet keys fell out.

He went back into the main office room. Ah, hah! They had tried to jimmy the cabinets. There were the jimmy marks and one door slightly bent. But Terl knew you couldn’t jimmy security cabinets open. He unlocked them all. Everything all in its same old place! Better and better.

He picked up the bug detector, inspected it. He turned it on. And right away a buzz! Lights flashing! Devils but this place was really bugged!

For a solid hour, Terl did nothing but remove bugs. Micro-microphones, button cameras, scanners. All in very hidden places, all focused to zero in on the key work areas.

Thirty-one of them. He had been tossing them, when found, onto his desk. He counted again.

Thirty-one. Oh, that animal had been busy! And stupid! Terl bet every other detector had been removed from the

compound.

Finally he put on a tunic. Somebody had stacked a whole crate of kerbango pans against the wall and he was eyeing it. He was about to indulge when he thought, “Just one more sweep,” and passed the bug detector around again. It whined!

For fifteen minutes he searched and searched. And then he found it. It was a micro set into the design of the top tunic button. He was wearing it.

Thirty-two. He checked out all his other clothes. No more. He thought he had better look into the ducts visually. They didn’t register on the detector but who knew? But when he tried to steady himself on a chair by touching the duct frame it was wobbly. No more of that! He could let air into this place. Shoddy work. But what could one expect?

He surveyed the place again. He stood and laughed when he saw the components rack. Every assorted type of component, each with a big label above the box. And one of the button cameras he’d found hidden in a light fixture had been trained straight on it. Stupid animal!

Then he suddenly realized there must be a planted feeder unit to power these bugs and relay their coverage.

He put a mask on and got Lars. They went up and down the passageways. And there it was! A whole feeder unit, all wired up, right inside a recess closet for fire apparatus. He pulled it out and turned it off. Such a thing could run for half a year.

And recorders? It must have been relaying to recorders. Within a few hundred feet. He went back and got a mine radio, turned the feeder on, and very shortly ran down the recorder.

Just inside the garage door where anyone could pass in and out to change its discs without much observation. Stupid animal!

He turned the thing off and took it away. Who cared about any others? They were blind now that they had no bugs to feed or record.

Happily, he went back into his office, barred it, rechecked with his detector. Beautiful silence. No lights. Wonderful.

     Privacy at last.

He put on some pants and boots. He opened up a pan of kerbango and sank back in his chair, luxuriating.

Home to wealth and power. That’s where he was going now. And this time he would set such a trap that the animal would be gobbled up if he even came near it.

After nearly an hour, he thought he had better get to work.

But first things first. He had better calculate how much time he had to get this job done. And then start on the construction of a weapon so lethal and deadly that the company never used it except in the extreme emergency of planet destruction. After he fired, this place would be just a smudge in the sky.

He went to the cabinets and opened a false bottom.