Ron Merrill First North American serial rights

[540-54-5913]

"Height one thousand meters. Normal descent. No sign of hostile activity." The co-pilot's voice came over the intercom in the slow, calm drawl affected by members of his profession. Sergeant Ked Nathik glanced around his squad for one last check, then opened the inner door of the airlock and stepped in, his three fire-team leaders crowding in behind him.

"Height one hundred meters. Prepare for landing." Nathik unlocked the outer door, activated his shock rifle, and crouched, waiting. He knew this was the most dangerous moment, with the lander low and slow-moving. They had lost the protection of altitude, but had no security out.

But nothing happened. There was just the slight bump of landing. Instantly he slammed open the door and jumped out. His trained eye picked out the key points of the terrain and he signaled with his free hand as he ran. In response the scatterbeam crew hit the dirt behind a small outcrop of rock and set up where they'd have a good field of fire. Another gesture and the grenadier rolled into position where he could cover the dead space of a small hollow off to the right. Nathik glanced at both ends of his squad to make sure they connected to the adjoining sectors, checked to be sure all his men had proper cover, then looked out to evaluate the situation and the threat.

The lander was sitting about 600 meters from the ocean. The terrain was low sand dunes broken by occasional boulders; there were low shrubs, a few trees, and patches of long grass. The sky was broken by only a few puffs of white cloud, and the sun was hot overhead. He was already uncomfortably warm; he made a mental note to remind the men about water discipline. His eyes traversed the front, stopped at a clump of bushes where there was movement. A girl stood up, stared in amazement at the lander, and said, "What's going on here?"

Her hands were empty and it was easy to see that she was unarmed since she was quite naked. She appeared to be in her late teens and was very attractive. He surveyed the sector again to see if anything was sneaking up under cover of this distraction, then checked his men. "Parnap," he snapped, "eyes on your sector!" He turned back to the girl and stepped forward. A boy about her age stood up beside her, gawking at the lander.

The girl transferred her stare to Nathik and said again, "What's going on here?" She spoke in Middle Archaic, as he'd been told to expect, though her accent was far from pure.

"We come from space, from another star system," he replied, trying to match her inflection.

The girl's eyes flicked to the lander for a moment. "Not in that, surely," she said.

"No, that's just a lander. Our starship is in orbit," Nathik told her.

"Are you from the Federation?" she demanded.

"No, the Federation disintegrated nearly four hundred years ago. But I'm not authorized to discuss it. Please come and talk to my commander."

The girl hesitated, as if puzzled, then shrugged. She picked up a brightly colored piece of cloth and casually wrapped it around her hips. Following her lead, her companion pulled on a pair of tan shorts, shook sand out of the blanket on which they'd been lying, and rolled it up.

Nathik raised his communicator to his lips. "Delta, this is Kappa. We have two natives here, unarmed and apparently not hostile. They speak Archaic. Over."

"Kappa, this is Delta. Bring them to the CP. Over."

"This is Kappa. Wilco. Out."

He beckoned to one of his men. "Thelmarit, take the squad. Tell 'em to take it easy on their water."

The command post was set up close to the head of the lander. Nathik delivered his charges along with a brief report. Rather to his surprise, he was not dismissed; the CO gestured for him to stay, then turned to the Special Officer. "All right, Kremat, go ahead."

Special Officer Helm Kremat was not a popular man. Specialists, of course, seldom were liked by the fighting men. But Nathik recognized that they were a necessary evil. He waited patiently as Kremat introduced himself and started to explain. The girl cut him short.

"Yes, I know what a starship is," she said impatiently. "But why did you come here? What do you want?"

"We represent the Third Empire. We want to make contact with your planetary government."

The girl looked away absently, as if thinking. After a moment, she said, "We don't have a planetary government here on Marquesa. We don't have governments at all, I suppose."

Kremat didn't miss a beat. "Well, then, who makes the rules?"

The girl shrugged. "The Elders, I guess. We don't have a lot of rules. People just do what makes sense."

"Where are these Elders?"

"In the Long House in the village."

"And they make rules for the whole planet from there?"

"No, of course not. Just for this island."

"What about the rest of the planet?"

"Other places have their own Elders, I guess. But I don't know if our Elders talk to them. Well," she went on as the boy nudged her, "they must, sometimes. Every hundred years or so they make arrangements with the Elders of nearby islands to exchange young people, so we don't get too inbred."

Kremat gave up. "Well, we'd like to talk to your Elders. How far is it?"

"Just a short walk. About half a--that wouldn't mean anything to you, would it? Uh, let's see, about one thirtieth of a planetary rotation."

"Just a moment and we'll be ready." Kremat turned to the CO and switched to Standard Milspeak. "This is a fascinating culture. Obviously they're peaceful, probably pacifistic. I recommend we stand down; we wouldn't want to give an impression of hostility."

The CO looked at him coldly. "Don't be ridiculous."

"But just look at them! How can you call this a threat? What are they going to do, throw sand at us?"

"Special Officer Kremat, let me remind you that you are not at the University any more. You wear a military uniform and are subject to military discipline. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir." Kremat snapped to attention. "But as a military officer, Sir, it is my duty to point out that if one of our men volatilizes an unarmed native, it could seriously complicate, and perhaps even jeopardize, the completion of our assigned mission. Sir."

The CO glared at him, then turned to the Executive Officer. "Are we picking up anything?"

"Still nothing active, Sir. No nuclear, no EMF. If there's anything within five kilometers it must be light weapons only."

"Very well. Bring 'em in one squad at a time and have them put away their weapons and draw stunners. That way if one of our green recruits gets careless we won't have any fatalities. Kremat and I will go with these two to visit their 'Elders'. Nathik, you come with us. Get a stunner."

Nathik automatically took up station to the rear, as appropriate to his rank. It was annoyingly difficult to keep his military stride slowed down to the natives' leisurely pace. He was also vexed at the way his eyes seemed to drift, of their own accord, to the rhythmically swinging hips of the girl in front of him. Admittedly she was the first female he'd seen for months, but he ought to have better discipline than that.

He made his eyes flick from side to side, watching for danger, but he saw no threats. Still, he kept his hand near his holster. He wished he had his shock rifle. The stunner was effective only with a head shot; it would be practically useless if they were rushed by a large group.

Kremat talked steadily to the girl, with occasional participation from the boy. The natives spoke freely about their village and its inhabitants, answering questions without hesitation. As far as Nathik could tell, they were concealing nothing--unless they were capable of improvising lies with astonishing fluency. They asked no questions themselves; seemingly their initial curiosity about the visitors and their ship had been easily satisfied.

As they walked inland along a winding path, the sand gave way to more fertile soil. They passed through forest; then cultivated fields began to appear. Some had natives working in them; they waved at the group, then went back to their task as if the first visit from another system in centuries was an occurrence of no great importance.

The village--it had a name, but it was merely a corruption of the Archaic phrase for "by the spring"--consisted of perhaps a hundred small huts, primitive but clean, and the "long house" in the center. Dozens of naked children ran up to crowd around the visitors--they, at least, showed curiosity--and half-naked adults calmly followed, looking over the soldiers with a casual interest, then drifting away.

Allama, the girl, stopped in front of the long house and put a hand on the CO's arm when he started to advance. "It is taboo for anyone but an Elder to enter the Long House," she warned.

The CO glanced at Kremat. "Very well," he said. He stopped and stood with a firm military bearing, his eyes surveying the village with practiced competence. Nathik awkwardly shooed away a few children who were showing an undue interest in his uniform, his equipment, and his stunner. Then he hastily performed the same service for his commander. Kremat squatted and began talking to the youngsters; the CO shot him a glare, then turned back to the Long House.

It was several minutes later and most of the children had run off to resume their games when a tall man with silver hair slipped through the hides which covered the door of the Long House. He tousled the hair of a couple of children, nodded to Allama and her boyfriend, then addressed the visitors. "Please sit down," he said. "My name is Senlo. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." He sat down on one of the wooden stools set in a semicircle by the door of the Long House. The other natives quietly slipped away.

The CO sat down on a stool opposite the Elder, motioned to Nathik to stand behind him, then turned to Kremat. "Go ahead," he said.

"I am Helm Kremat. This is my commander--"

"Excuse me, I don't know that word."

"--uh, an Elder, sort of--and one of our men. We are here on a diplomatic mission from the Third Empire . . . "

Nathik paid little attention to the prepared speech. He studied the Elder carefully, only glancing around at intervals to make sure no threat appeared behind them. Senlo was clearly a very old man, yet in surprisingly good shape for a primitive barbarian. His smile showed a full set of teeth; his skin, though wrinkled, was clear and without ulcers; his movements were slow, but did not suggest decrepitude or fragility. Nor did he act like a barbarian; faced with visitors from an advanced culture, he exhibited neither fear nor awe, only a polite attentiveness mixed with a faint hint of . . . contempt?

Nathik looked around. The natives seemed to have gone about their business; the village looked almost empty. He felt an urge to reconnoiter. He set it aside; he was needed here. The urge grew stronger; were the natives up to something? And he wanted to get into the shade; the sun was giving him a headache. He shook his head and forced his attention back to Kremat.

"--so if you're in charge here--"

Senlo shook his head. "I'm not in charge. Nobody's in charge."

"But I thought the Elders--"

"The other Elders and I, not having the physical strength of youth, serve the community with our knowledge and our experience. We do not rule."

"Uh, where are the other Elders, by the way?"

"Sleeping." He smiled. "You will find, young man, as you get older, that the afternoon nap is a wise practice, especially in hot weather."

"Well, is there no authority on the planet? We're told you're in contact with other islands."

"Occasionally. The wind is from the east at this time of year, so we could send boats to the islands west of here, but you would have to wait until the seasons shifted before they could come back with a reply. And there would be little point; none of the islands with which we have contact have rulers."

"You communicate by boat?"

"How else?"

Kremat tried to explain radio, but Senlo responded only with a puzzled smile. "That is technology, I take it. We know of technology, from our histories of the time when we were a Federation colony, but we have no technology ourselves. We do not need it."

"No? Not for food supplies? Or medicine?"

"The land is fertile, and the sea is even more fertile. We keep our population stable, and have enough to eat. As for medicine--when people live in harmony with nature, they are seldom ill, and when they live in harmony with one another, they are seldom injured." He looked pointedly at the CO's sidearm.

The CO stood up. "A very astute observation, I'm sure. Still, perhaps we can teach you a few useful things. In any case, it is our mission to bring this planet under the protection of the Third Empire, and if there is really no government here, this village is as good a place as any to start. I will go now, to consult with my superiors. We will return tomorrow morning; I trust that we will find all of the Elders awake and alert at that time."

Senlo stood politely and watched as the intruders strode off at a rapid pace and disappeared. Then he turned and spoke to Allama, who was waiting respectfully a few paces away.

"You are sure?"

"That's what I saw, Elder. The one called Kremat argued with the 'commander'. And the younger one had to speak into that gadget attached to his funny hat when he wanted to talk at a distance."

The Elder frowned in concentration; the girl closed her eyes and swayed slightly for a moment. Then Senlo smiled. "All right. Run and join the others."

"Elder? They have a starship and all that technology. They must be very powerful. Can we really--"

"Have no fear, Allama. I think they will find that we have something to teach them. Still," he said more to himself than to her, "it would be well to deal with this now, before things get more serious." He slipped quietly through the door of the Long House.

"Nathik."

"Sir?" He obediently moved up and marched along at his commander's side, as Kremat dropped back two paces.

"Did you notice anything suspicious, while we were talking?"

Nathik considered. "The streets were empty; I thought it was odd. Or am I being paranoid?"

"You are," said Kremat disgustedly. "Weren't you listening? An afternoon siesta is the local custom, and," he wiped his brow, "a very sensible one."

"A certain amount of paranoia is no bad thing in a military leader," said the CO. He touched his radio. "Epsilon, this is Delta. Any activity? Over."

"This is Epsilon. Nothing stirring. Over."

"This is Delta. We're on our way back. Out."

They walked in silence for a few minutes. A party of half a dozen native men appeared ahead of them, heading along the path to the village, carrying farm implements. The CO strode ahead and the natives moved off the path to let them by. Nathik caught movement in the corner of his eye and whirled just as one of the native men swung his hoe and hit Kremat in the back of the head. His helmet absorbed much of the shock, but Kremat dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks.

Nathik's stunner was already in his hand as another native ran at him with a machete. Calmly he fired at the man's forehead--and nothing happened. He fired again, unable to believe he could miss at this range, still with no effect. And the man was on him. He twisted out of the way and slammed a roundhouse kick into the man's kidneys as his momentum carried him past. But now the man with the hoe was swinging at him and he had to roll. He came up, dodged behind a tree, and tried another shot. The weapon was still useless, though he could see the charge light burning a normal red. The hoe bounced off the tree just over his head; he backed up and holstered the stunner.

As the native with the hoe was drawing back for another swing Nathik burst out from the other side of the tree and closed with him. He grabbed the hoe and the two men briefly swung back and forth. Nathik ignored the opportunity for a throw, instead deftly rotating his opponent into harm's way just as a third native came up with a wild stroke of his shovel. As the hoe-wielder dropped, Nathik took the tool from his nerveless hands, swept aside the shovel, and rammed the handle into the third man's stomach.

He turned to meet the next opponent and found himself facing the CO, who now had a machete.

"Good work. Grab Kremat and let's double-time it."

He jumped back to the path and slung Kremat over his shoulders. "Sorry, Sir. My stunner--"

"Mine too. Come on."

The CO grabbed his helmet from the path and slammed it back on his head. "Epsilon, this is--"

"Delta, Epsilon. We got trouble here. Surprise attack, estimate two hundred natives, armed with sticks and such, but our stunners aren't working. They got inside the perimeter and now it's hand--" Confused sounds came over the radio; Nathik and the CO jogged through the forest in silence; then: "Sorry. Hand-to-hand, but I got Glock and two men into the lander and they're getting a scattergun--"

"Negative. Have them pull an M-23 and launch at map coordinates . . . 518-377. Target a large rectangular building. Over."

"M-23. Coordinates 518-377. Building. Wilco. Wait one."

Nathik's shoulders and neck were aching and sweat was interfering with his vision. The forest was thinning and they were running on sand now, making it even harder to keep his footing with the dead weight of Kremat on his back. But the lander was almost in sight.

"Nathik. Drop Kremat behind a bush and let's go put a hand in this fight. Remember which bush, though."

The melee around the lander looked more like a riot than a battle. As they got closer, Nathik was able to estimate that the unit had perhaps twenty effectives left, holding a minuscule perimeter around the starboard airlock. They were badly outnumbered, though the sand was littered with the bodies of natives, some still, some moving feebly. Nathik came up behind a man with a fishing spear who was looking for an opportunity to use it over the heads of his comrades and kicked him in the back of the head. Another native--a middle-aged woman--turned and saw him, shouted and charged, wielding a large knife. Cursing, he sidestepped and grabbed her arm. Her momentum jerked him around and he found himself facing a teenage girl armed with some sort of club. He flipped the woman into her with a shoulder throw and turned too late to meet a man with a hoe but this opponent suddenly staggered and fell as the CO clobbered him from behind.

"Come on!" Natives were pouring out of the mass to surround the two men. Nathik kicked a man out of the way and followed as the CO set off at a run around the edge of the crowd. A moment later they were being chased by two dozen natives. Nathik's side was aching now and his breath shortening. Inwardly he urged the CO to turn to bay quickly; he wanted to go down fighting, not be run down like an exhausted fox. But his commander ran around the front of the lander and kept going. There was a loud whoosh and a trail of white smoke streaked across the edge of his blurred vision, but the pursuing natives seemed oblivious to the distraction.

Then there was a boom in the distance. Suddenly the sound of the mob dropped. Nathik looked back and saw the pursuing natives slow down and stop. Some stood panting; others sat down.

"Hold it! Hold it! Form up again and stand!" The voice of the Executive Officer came from the other side of the lander. The CO dived and crawled under, followed by Nathik. He was nearly brained by one of the walking wounded who was serving as a rear guard, but a sergeant grabbed his arm in time.

The native attackers here, too, were simply standing or sitting, exhausted and dazed. The Executive Officer looked at them in bewilderment.

The CO grabbed the intercom. "Pilot," he gasped, "this is Delta."

"Glad you made it, Sir. All systems go; we've got a few dents in the wing, but we can fly."

"Good. When will Prince Edward be line of sight?"

"Twelve minutes, Sir."

"I want to talk to her as soon as she's up."

"Roger."

The CO turned to the Executive Officer. "All right, let's start cleaning up. We've got wounded out there. And let's get organized on the enemy wounded too."

"What about--"

"They're harmless now. See if you can shake a few of them out of their daze and get them to help with their wounded. Oh, and Nathik. Go get that idiot Kremat. Take someone to help you, you humped him far enough. Then get back to your squad and get the effectives ready to go out. We're going to make a little patrol. And everybody draw their regular weapons again. Better late than never. Now get moving, I have to give a post-action report in . . . ten minutes."

Nathik had only three effectives left in his squad, but with everyone carrying shock rifles he felt invincible. And the natives obviously had no aggressive intentions. They were streaming back to their village slowly but steadily, seemingly unconscious of the patrol moving through them.

The Long House was flattened, a smoking mess of embers and twisted metal. A steadily increasing crowd of natives stood in the space in front of it, where the badly burned bodies of four old people had been laid out. One of them was Senlo.

The CO looked into the crowd. "Allama. Come here."

The girl stepped forward and looked up at him dully.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

"He was hurt in the fight."

"Badly?"

"No. Broken collarbone. He'll be all right. I guess."

The CO nodded. "Any Elders survive?"

"No."

"Good. Wouldn't matter anyway, with their machine gone. I don't suppose they had a spare."

"Machine, Sir?" asked Nathik. "Was that what disabled our stunners?"

"Not exactly, Nathik. Remember your military history courses? What was the Federation like when it fell?"

"Totalitarian, Sir. They used brain-control technology to--Oh!"

"Exactly. A stunner is just a primitive device to disrupt the consciousness centers of the brain. The old Federation used much more sophisticated versions of the same technology to exert active control over the population. When they colonized this planet, shortly before the system broke down, they brought probably a couple of hundred district-level machines with them. One in every Long House."

"And it overrode the effects of our stunners."

"Right. It was like trying to break into a phase-locked circuit with an outside signal. No chance."

"But, Sir, when they made these people attack us--what could they have hoped to accomplish?"

"To capture the lander, of course. Then, I suppose, they thought they'd crash it into the Prince Edward, or maybe put a bomb in it. They no doubt thought if Prince Edward never came back it would be a long time before anyone came to this system again. They might even have thought that they could somehow capture the ship."

"But that's--"

"Of course it's ridiculous. But power rots the mind. These little petty tyrants had grandiose dreams, as tyrants always do." He kicked a smoldering ember into the ruined building.

"One more question, Sir. Why didn't they use their machine to try to control us?"

"They did. Gave me a nasty headache, while I was talking to Senlo. You too, I'll bet--right? That's what tipped me off. But they must have quickly recognized that it wasn't going to work. Tell me, Nathik, what's the first principle of training?"

"'Self-discipline precedes discipline.'"

"Right. The Elders have bred these poor devils to be slaves for centuries, and trained them to the role from childhood. But everyone on the Prince Edward is a volunteer--and a man who has been trained to control himself. We have our own phase-locked loop, so to speak--discipline.

"Well. We'll have to deal with the Elders on the other islands, of course. Simplest, the Captain thinks, to just burn their machines with lasers from orbit. So," he turned back to Allama, "soon there will be no Elders anywhere on the planet. You'll be on your own."

She looked at him in horror. "What will we do?" she whispered.

"I can't tell you," said the CO. "And I wouldn't, if I could."