“Someone’s coming,” announces Al; we hop into our suits. Acoustic Doppler shows a five-person party in the corridor to the power room. One breaks off and enters that room without hesitation. He’s obviously following a trail. Not a good sign; we’re being sloppy.
“Cover me. I’ll greet him,” I say, and move into the power room. It’s Major Rufus.
Rufus looks like he’s been through a war. His uniform is disheveled and dirty and he’s carrying a pistol. But his eyes glow with confidence and they light up when he sees me. He looks around then lowers his pistol—he has no holster.
“I’ve come to collect a code,” he says.
“You found us pretty easily.”
“Wounded people, wounded armor. The concept’s the same.” He points the pistol to a trail of fluid drops on the floor, then he points it at my head—an idle threat to a person in power armor but I get the message. “A code, please.”
“Not one but three codes. You’ve kept your part of the bargain, Major, you can free all the hostages. The code for the first collar, labeled number one, is 1-1-1-1. The code for the second is 2-2-2-2. I think you can figure the code for the third set yourself.”
“It’s that simple?”
“The object is to keep potential rescuers from tinkering, not to challenge memorizing skills. Oh, and Major…”
“Yes?”
“Once those collars come off, get them somewhere clear fast. The code just opens them, they’ll still go off in five minutes. We don’t want rescuers tinkering with the collars after they’ve done their job either.”
“Excuse me.” The major starts off for the door. As he reaches it, he thinks of something else. “Oh, there are men out here that would like to talk with you about joining them. May I send them in?”
“Sure.”
“Pardon my haste, but I’ve got to find a phone.” He finishes his rush out.
The three that come in next are young; each dresses differently; each carries a weapon. Unlike the major they look like they’ve just been fighting, or seen fighting, for the first time. But the horror is masked by their sense of purpose. They look at each other, then one asks, “Are you Kull the Conqueror?”
God, how these stupid little lies keep coming back to you! It sounded great on the podium, now I’m stuck with it. “Yes, I’m Kull.” They look relieved that I haven’t bitten their heads off.
“We want you to join our cause. Well, not join really. You don’t have to do that, but we want you to help us fight the oppressive system that has our people in chains.”
Oh God, students! Another of life’s constants, complaining students. But … this time there is violence upstairs. Maybe there’s an opportunity knocking.
“I don’t need the rhetoric. I need to know who’s on your side. Who’s fighting the government.
“Oh, every thinking person who—”
“Ah! Ah! One more outbreak of rhetoric and forget my help.”
Another student takes over. “We don’t know for certain—”
“Much more accurate, I’m sure, continue.”
“But—”
“Maybe I can answer that better than you, John.” The last man comes in. It’s the governor I left with Rufus in the helicopter. “I’m Simon Algers, the governor of Artemisia, this province of Concordia. Kull—if that’s really your name—you unwittingly started bigger events than you know. The disaster at this rally and my arrival in the city have brought together several previously fragmented factions.
“The world government on this planet is weak. It’s been impotent and corrupt for decades, filled with cranks and misfits kicked upstairs by regional rulers when they lost favor. The institution’s ineptitude didn’t matter until interstellar visitors appeared. Then the people looked to the world government to provide real leadership—something it was never designed to do.
“Opportunists have taken advantage of the situation and installed a xenophobic demagogue as head of the world government. The people I represent want to rebuild that government as an organization that really can lead us into the Interstellar Age.”
“This matters little to me.”
“It should. General Nolentov sent you here because he sensed opportunity. You’re talking with me now because he wasn’t the only one who did. You’re still in the heart of chaos, and what you do will make a difference—a difference for this entire world. You have the power. Use it.
“Use it for what?”
“Use it to help us and help yourself. I’m the head of a faction that wants to open this world. We want to grasp the opportunities the stars offer us. That’s my interest. For you, I offer something more tangible: If you help us drive out the federals, then you have my word that you have a haven here as long as my progressives control this city.”
“Governor Algers, we were supposed to be handing this planet over to the forces of General Nolentov, but it appears that some different arrangements will have to be made. Your offer sounds interesting but I need a few more details. First, how much support do you have?”
“In times like these who really knows? But to give you a more practical answer, the Artemisian militia supports me. But as I’ve said, Concordia’s federal government and Salmar, the second largest country of this world, are controlled by xenophobes, same as the world government. There are five countries actively supporting open relations and the remaining dozens are all fence-sitting. Of course there are other issues involved as well.”
“Such as?”
Algers sighs. “Race, religion, inequalities of all sorts. Need I say more?”
“Not at this time.”
“The immediate problem we face is the federal troops ringing Verdant. This is my capital, and they’ve been nearby ‘on maneuvers’ ever since I became an open advocate of increased trade with off-worlders.
“And this evening’s celebration by Danago, the xenophobes’ religious arm, was held here to humiliate me. But your intervention has turned the event upside down, temporarily, and there’s dancing in the streets by my supporters.”
“Temporary good news?”
“Temporary. The world government people have been looking for an excuse to crack down. At dawn, the federals will move in to restore order, and if that happens I will be out of a capital and become a fugitive. That could mean civil war. Nasty stuff.”
“What can we do to help?”
“Simple, help us stop the federals. Their forces will be isolated if they don’t take the city—the countryside has no love for them. With them on the sidelines, the fence sitters will see their chance to a side, our side, and the world government will collapse.”
“Another civil war?”
The governor sighs again. “Yes, unfortunately so, but at least not on my lands. And in the end I see a better world for all of us.”
“Governor, we will help you. But we don’t come cheap.”
“Name your price.”
“I can’t. Because I don’t know what you have to offer that is valuable to us. But if at the end of this confrontation you have the resources of a few hundred thousand hectares of land and a few million people at your disposal, I’m sure we can come to some sort of accommodation. Whatever we come up with, you’ll feel like you’ve paid more than handsomely, but it’ll be something you will be able to pay. Is it a deal?”
The governor doesn’t think long. “It’s a deal.” He sticks out his hand in some sort of salute. I return the gesture as best I can in power armor … I can see it isn’t a good imitation because for just a moment the governor gets the funniest look on his face. But politician that he is, he lets it pass with no remark.
“This is something we need to announce publicly,” I say. “What condition is the plaza in?”
“Cleared of enemies!” declares one of the students.
“Then we’ll announce our alliance there in a half hour. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to my people and let them know what we’re up to.”
The governor and students leave. I walk back into the storeroom. “My goodness,” says Al. “Which merc manual did that come from? Let’s make a contract with my enemy and bill them later?” He’s climbing out of his suit to continue cleaning.
I’m tired. I snap, “You have something better?”
Al turns and faces me. I keep forgetting he’s five years older than I am until he looks me square in the eye like this and I see all the wrinkles and scars. “If I had better, I would’ve let you know by now. You’re doin’ fine, old buddy, just fine.” He pats me on the shoulder, and the reassurance feels awfully good.
“All right, people. We’ve got a parade in 30 and an impression to make at dawn.”