Chapter 8: Authority of Governor-General von Schlichten

There was fresh intelligence from Konkrook, by the time he returned to the telecast station. Mutiny had broken out there among the laborers and native troops, who outnumbered the Terrans and their Kragan mercenaries on Gongonk Island by five thousand to five hundred and fifteen hundred respectively. The attempt to relieve Jaikark’s palace had been called off before the relief-force could be sent; there was heavy and confused fighting all over the island, and most of the combat contragravity and about half the Kragan Rifles had had to be committed to defend the Company farms across the Channel, on the mainland, south of the city. There had also been an urgent call for help from Colonel Rodolfo MacKinnon, in command of Company troops at the Keegark Residency, and another from the Residency at Kwurk, one of the Free Cities on the eastern shore of Takkad Sea.

He called Keegark; a girl, apparently one of the civilian telecast technicians, answered.

“We must have help, General von Schlichten,” she told him. “The native troops, all but two hundred Kragans, have mutinied. They have everything here except Company House--docks, airport, everything. We’re trying to hold out, but there are thousands of them. Our Takkad Native Infantry, soldiers of King Orgzild’s army, and townspeople. They all seem to have firearms...”

“What happened to Eric Blount and your Resident-Agent, Mr. Lemoyne?”

“We don’t know. They were at the Palace, talking to King Orgzild. We’ve tried to call the Palace, but we can’t get through, general, we must have help...”

A call came in, a few minutes later, from Krink, five hundred miles to the northeast across the mountains; the Resident-Agent there, one Francis Xavier Shapiro, reported rioting in the city and an attempted palace-revolution against King Jonkvank, and that the Residency was under attack. By way of variety, it was the army of King Jonkvank that had mutinied; the Sixth North Uller Native Infantry and the two companies of Zirk cavalry at Krink were still loyal, along with the Kragans.

There was a pattern to all this. Von Schlichten stood staring at the big map, on the wall, showing the Takkad Sea area at the Equatorial Zone, and the country north of it to the pole, the area of Uller occupied by the Company. He was almost beginning to discern the underlying logic of the past half-hour’s events when Keaveney, the Skilk Resident, blundered into him in a half-daze.

“Sorry, general, didn’t see you.” His face was ashen, and his jowls sagged. Von Schlichten wondered if there could be another spectacle so woe-begone as a back-slapping extrovert with the bottom knocked out of him. “My God, it’s happening all over Uller! Not just here at Skilk; everywhere where we have a residency or a trading-station. Why, it’s the end of all of us!”

“It’s not quite that bad, Mr. Keaveney.” He looked at his watch. It was now nearly an hour since the native troops here at Skilk had mutinied. Insurrections like this usually succeeded or failed in the first hour. It was a little early to be certain, but he was beginning to suspect that this one hadn’t succeeded. “If we all do our part, we’ll come out of it all right,” he told Keaveney, more cheerfully than he felt, then turned to ask Brigadier-General Mordkovitz how the fighting was going at the native-troops barracks.

“Not badly, general. Colonel Jarman’s got some contragravity up and working. They blew out all four of the Tenth N.U.N.I.’s barracks; the Tenth and the Zirks are trying to defend the cavalry barracks. Some of our Kragans managed to slip around behind the cavalry stables. They’re leading out hipposaurs, and sniping at the rear of the cavalry barracks.”

“That’ll give us some cavalry of our own; a lot of these Kragans are good riders ... How about the repair-shops and maintenance-yard and lorry-hangars? I don’t want these geeks getting hold of that equipment and using it against us.”

“Kormork’s outfit are trying to take back the lorry-hangars. Jarman’s got a couple of airjeeps and a combat-car helping them.”

“ ... won’t be one of us left by this time tomorrow,” Keaveney was wailing, to Paula Quinton and another woman. “And the Company is finished!”

“We’d better get him a drink, or a cup of coffee, general,” Mordkovitz suggested. “With a knockout-drop in it.”

Colonel Cheng-Li, the Intelligence officer, seemed to have somewhat the same idea. He approached Keaveney and tried to quiet him. At the same time, a woman in black slacks and an orange sweater--the one whose pursuers had been overrun by the Kragans at the beginning of the fighting--approached von Schlichten.

“General, King Kankad’s calling,” she said. “He’s on the screen in booth four.”

“Right.” To avoid any possibility of misunderstanding, he slipped his geek-speaker into his mouth before entering the booth. Kankad’s face was looking out of the screen at him, with Phil Yamazaki, the telecast operator at Kankad’s Town, standing behind him.

“Von!” The Kragan spoke almost as though in physical pain. “What can I do to help? I have twenty thousand of my people here who are capable of bearing arms, all with firearms, but I have transport for only five hundred. Where shall I send them?”

Von Schlichten thought quickly. Keegark was finished; the Residency stood in the middle of the city, surrounded by two hundred thousand of King Orgzild’s troops and subjects. Since Ullerans were bisexual, the total population, less the senile, crippled, and very young, was the military potential. Sending Kankad’s five hundred warriors and his meager contragravity there would be the same as shoveling them into a furnace. The people at Keegark would have to be written off, like the twenty Kragans at Jaikark’s palace.

“Send them to Konkrook,” he decided. “Them M’zangwe’s in command, there; he’ll need help to hold the Company farms. Maybe he can find additional transport for you. I’ll call him.”

“I’ll send off what force I can, at once,” Kankad promised. “How does it go with you at Skilk?”

“We’re holding, so far,” he replied. “Paula is with me, here; she sends her friendship.”

Captain Inez Malavez, the woman officer in charge of the station, put her head into the booth.

“General! Immediate-urgency message from Colonel O’Leary,” she said. “Native laborers from the mine-labor camp are pouring into the mine-equipment park. Colonel O’Leary’s used all his rockets and MG-ammunition trying to stop them.”

“Call you back, later,” von Schlichten told Kankad. “I’ll see what Them M’zangwe can do about transport; get what force you can started for Konkrook at once.”

He left the booth, removing his geek-speaker. “Barney!” he called. “General Mordkovitz! Who’s the ranking officer in direct contact with the Eighteenth Rifles? Major Falkenberg?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, tell him to get as many of his Kragans as he can spare down to the equipment-park.” He turned to Inez Malavez. “You call Jarman; tell him what O’Leary reported, and tell him to get cracking on it. Tell him not to let those geeks get any of that equipment onto contragravity; knock it down as fast as they try to lift out with it. And tell him to see what he can do in the way of troop-carriers or lorries, to get Falkenberg’s Rifles to the equipment-park ... How’s business at the lorry-hangars and maintenance-yard?”

“Kormork’s still working on that,” the girl captain told him. “Nothing definite, yet.”

In one corner of the big room, somebody had thumbtacked a ten-foot-square map of the Company area to the floor. Paula Quinton and Mrs. Jules Keaveney were on their knees beside it, pushing out handfuls of little pink and white pills that somebody had brought in two bottles from the dispensary across the road, each using a billiard-bridge. The girl in the orange sweater had a handful of scribbled notes, and was telling them where to push the pills. There were other objects on the map, too--pistol-cartridges, and cigarettes, and foil-wrapped food-concentrate wafers. Paula, seeing him, straightened.

“The pink are ours, general,” she said. “The white are the geeks.” Von Schlichten suppressed a grin; that was the second time he’d heard her use that word, this evening. “The cigarettes are airjeeps, the cartridges are combat-cars, and the wafers are lorries or troop-carriers.”

“Not exactly regulation map-markers, but I’ve seen stranger things used ... Captain Malavez!”

“Yes, sir?” The girl captain, rushing past, her hands full of teleprint-sheets, stopped in mid-stride.

“What we need,” he told her, “is a big TV-screen, and a pickup mounted on some sort of a contragravity vehicle at about two to five thousand feet directly overhead, to give us an image of the whole area. Can do?”

“Can try, sir. We have an eight-foot circular screen that ought to do all right for two thousand feet. I’ll implement that at once.”

Going into a temporarily idle telecast booth, he called Konkrook. First he spoke to a civilian who chewed a dead cigar, and then he got Themistocles M’zangwe on the screen.

“How is it, now?” he asked.

“Getting a little better,” the Graeco-African replied. “Half an hour ago, we were shooting geeks out the windows, here; now we have them contained between the spaceport and the native-troops and labor barracks, and down the east side of the island to the farms. We have the wire around the farms on the island electrified, and we’re using almost all our combat contragravity to keep the farms on the mainland clear.” He hesitated for a moment. “Did you hear about Eric and Lemoyne?”

Von Schlichten shook his head.

“We just got a call from Rodolfo MacKinnon. He took a couple of prisoners and made them talk. The whole party that were at Orgzild’s palace were massacred. Some of them were lucky enough to get killed fighting. The geeks took Eric and Hendrik alive; rolled them in a puddle of thermoconcentrate fuel and set fire to them. When we can spare the contragravity, we’re going to drop something on the Kee-geek embassy, over in town.”

“Well, that was what I wanted to call you about--contragravity.” He told M’zangwe about King Kankad’s offer. “His crowd ought to be coming in in a couple of hours. What can you scrape up to send to Kankad’s Town to airlift Kragans in?”

“Well, we have three hundred-and-fifty-foot gun-cutters, one 90-mm gun apiece. The Elmoran, the Gaucho, and the Bushranger. But they’re not much as transports, and we need them here pretty badly. Then, we have five fertilizer and charcoal scows, and a lot of heavy transport lorries, and two one-eighty-foot pickup boats.”

“How about the Piet Joubert?” von Schlichten asked. “She was due in Konkrook from the east about 1300 today, wasn’t she?”

M’zangwe swore. “She got in, all right. But the geeks boarded her at the dock, within twenty minutes after things started. They tried to lift out with her, and the Channel Battery shot her down into Konkrook Channel, off the Fifty Sixth Street docks.”

“Well, you couldn’t let the geeks have her, to use against us. What do you hear from the other ships?”

“Procyon‘s at Grank; we haven’t had any reports of any kind from there, which doesn’t look so good. The Northern Lights is at Grank, too. The Oom Paul Kruger should have been at Bwork, in the east, when the gun went off. And the Jan Smuts and the Christiaan De Wett were both at Keegark; we can assume Orgzild has both of them.”

“All right. I’m sending Aldebaran to Kankad’s, to pick up more reenforcements for you.”

“We can use them! And with Aldebaran, we ought to be able to take the offensive against the city by this time tomorrow. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll see about getting Aldebaran sent off, now.”

Leaving the booth, he heard, above the clatter of communications-machines and hubbub of voices, Jules Keaveney arguing contentiously. Evidently Colonel Cheng-Li’s efforts to drag the Resident out of his despondency had been an excessive success.

“But it’s crazy! Not just here; everywhere on Uller!” Keaveney was saying. “How did they do it? They have no telecast equipment.”

“You have me stopped, Jules,” Mordkovitz was replying. “I know a lot of rich geeks have receiving sets, but no sending sets.”

The pattern that had been tantalizing von Schlichten took visible shape in his mind. For a moment, he shelved the matter of the Aldebaran.