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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Best Made Plans, by Everett B. Cole
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Best Made Plans
+
+Author: Everett B. Cole
+
+Release Date: October 5, 2007 [EBook #22892]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEST MADE PLANS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Illustrated by van Dongen]
+
+
+
+
+THE BEST MADE PLANS
+
+
+
+By
+
+EVERETT B. COLE
+
+
+
+Astounding Science Fiction
+
+[Illustration]                                    _There
+               are some people that it is extremely unwise
+               to cross ... and the fireworks start when
+               two such people cross each other!_
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science
+Fiction, November and December, 1959. Extensive research did not
+reveal any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was
+renewed.
+
+
+
+
+Don Michaels twisted about uneasily for a moment, then looked toward
+the doors of the darkened auditorium. He shook his head, then returned
+his attention to the stage. Of course, he'd joined in the applause--a
+guy felt sort of idiotic, just sitting there while everyone else in the
+place made loud noises--but that comedy act had been pretty smelly.
+They should have groaned instead of applauding.
+
+Oh, sure, he thought, the drama students had to have experience on the
+stage. And they really needed an audience--if they were going to have
+any realism in their performances. Sure, that part of it was all right,
+but why did the professionals have to join the party? Why did they have
+to have 'casts like that last thing--especially at a school Aud Call?
+It seemed anything but educational, and he'd had to skip a good class
+for this one. He shrugged. Of course, everyone else had skipped one
+class or another, he knew. So why should he be an exception? Too, some
+of the students would welcome and applaud anything that gave them a
+break from their studies. And the schedule probably took account of
+this sort of thing anyway. But....
+
+A fanfare interrupted his thoughts. From the backstage speakers came
+the smooth rhythm of a band playing a march trio. He sat back.
+
+The screen glowed and became a large rectangle of blue, dotted with
+fleecy clouds. In the distance, the towers of Oreladar poked up from a
+carpet of green trees.
+
+Swiftly, the camera approached the city, to center for a moment on a
+large sports stadium. Players dashed across the turf, then the camera
+swung away. Briefly, it paused to record various city scenes, then it
+crossed the walls of the Palace and came to ground level on the parade
+grounds of the Royal Guards.
+
+A review was underway. For a few seconds, the camera held on the massed
+troops, then it centered on the reviewing stand. The band modulated
+smoothly into a brilliant quickstep and a column of guards marched to
+center screen, the colors of their dress uniforms contrasting with the
+green of the perfectly kept field.
+
+Now, the field of view narrowed, centering the view first on the color
+guard, then on the colors alone. The camera moved down till the gold
+and blue of Oredan's royal colors stood out against the blue sky.
+
+The band music faded, to be over-ridden then replaced by a smooth
+baritone voice.
+
+"This is your news reporter," it said, "Merle Boyce, bringing you the
+latest happenings of the day."
+
+The colors receded, their background blurring then coming into focus
+again. Now, they stood before a large window. Again, the camera receded
+and a man appeared in the foreground. For a moment he sat at his plain
+desk, gazing directly out of the screen and seeming to look searchingly
+into Don's face. Then he smiled engagingly and nodded.
+
+"As every citizen of Oredan knows," he said, "this nation has been
+swept by a wave of terrorism during the few days past. Indeed, the now
+notorious Waern affair became so serious that our Prime Minister found
+it necessary to take personal command of the Enforcement Corps and
+direct the search for the terrorists himself. Now, he is present, to
+bring to you, the people, his report of the conclusion of this terrible
+affair." He paused, drawing a breath.
+
+"Citizen of Oredan," he declaimed slowly, "the Prime Minister, Daniel
+Stern, Prince Regent."
+
+He faced away from the camera and faded from view. Again, the gold and
+blue of Oredan filled the screen.
+
+There was a brief blare of trumpets. Then drums rolled and the heavy
+banner swept aside to reveal a tall, slender man, who approached the
+camera deliberately. He glanced aside for a moment, then pinned his
+audience with an intense stare.
+
+"This has been a terrible experience for many of our people," he began.
+"And it has been a harrowing time for your public officials. One of our
+own--a one-time police commissioner--a man sworn to uphold law and
+order, has suddenly revealed himself as a prime enemy of the realm and
+of our people. This in itself is a bad thing. But this was not enough
+for Harle Waern." He held out a hand, his face growing stern.
+
+"No, Waern was unwilling to abide by the results of a lawful trial,
+knowing the outcome of any full investigation into his activities, he
+chose to lash out further at authority and to burn his way out of
+detention. He killed some of his guards. He released other criminals.
+He formed them into a gang, enlisting their aid in cutting and burning
+his way across our land in an obvious effort to reach the hills and
+possibly stir some of the mountain clans to rebellion. And as he went,
+he left destruction and death." He nodded his head sadly.
+
+"Yes, it is painful to report, but it must be admitted that no less
+than twenty innocent people have lost their lives as a result of
+Waern's actions. And many more have been injured or have suffered
+property loss. It has been a savage affair--one we'll be long in
+forgetting. And it is with considerable relief that we can report its
+final conclusion." He stepped back, then faded from view.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+The screen brightened again to show a rambling white house which
+nestled in a grove of shade trees. Behind it, rose a small hill which
+acted as a mere step toward the peaks of high mountains beyond. Before
+it was a broad lawn, dotted with lounging furniture. Reflected in its
+windows was the glow of the rising sun, which flood-lit the entire
+scene. From the speakers came muted sounds. An insect chirped. Hurrying
+footsteps crunched on gravel. There were soft rattles and bangs, and
+somewhere a motor rumbled briefly, then coughed to silence.
+
+"We are now," said a voice, "a few miles outside of the city of
+Riandar, where Harle Waern had this summer estate built for him."
+
+As the announcer spoke, the camera moved about to pick out details of
+the estate. It showed a swimming pool back of the house. It swung
+briefly about landscaped gardens, scanning across cultivated fields and
+orchards. It flicked across a winding, tree-lined road, then came back
+to a rough area before the smooth lawn.
+
+Partially concealed from the house by waving grass and field weeds, men
+were moving cautiously about the fields. Near a small hummock, a
+loudspeaker rose from its stand, to face the house. A man lay not too
+far from the base of the stand. Microphone in hand, he looked intently
+through the grass, to study the windows of the house. Then he glanced
+back to note the positions of the others.
+
+The camera's viewpoint raised, to take in the entire scene beyond the
+field. The sky blurred, then seemed to open, to show Daniel Stern's
+long, thin face. He cast his eyes down for a moment, seeming to take in
+the details of the scene, then stared straight at the audience, his
+deep-set eyes glowing hypnotically.
+
+"Here then," he said slowly, "is one of the properties which Harle
+Waern bought while acting as Police Commissioner of Riandar. Here is a
+mere sample of the gains he enjoyed for a time as the price of his
+defections from his oath of office. And here is the stage he chose for
+the final act, his last struggle against the nation he had betrayed."
+
+His face faded from view, the deep-set eyes shining from the sky for a
+time after the rest of the face had faded from view.
+
+Then the camera swung again, to show a low-slung weapons carrier which
+had pulled up a few dozen meters back of the man with the microphone.
+About it, the air shimmered a little, as though a filmy screen lay
+between vehicle and camera. It softened the harsh lines of the carrier
+and its weapon, lending them an almost mystical appearance.
+
+The crew chief was clearly visible, however. He was making adjustments
+on one of the instruments on the projector mount. One of the crew
+members stood by on the charge rack, busying himself with adjustments
+on the charge activators. None of the crew looked toward the camera.
+
+The loud-speaker clicked and rasped into life.
+
+"Harle Waern, this is the Enforcement Corps. We know you are in there.
+You were seen to go into that house with your friends. You have one
+minute to throw out your weapons and come out with your hands in the
+air. This is your last chance."
+
+There was another click from the loud-speaker. Then the scene was
+quiet.
+
+Someone cleared his throat. The man with the microphone shifted his
+position and lay stretched out. He had sought cover behind the hummock
+near the speaker stand and now he raised his head cautiously, to watch
+the silent windows of the house. Other men lay in similar positions,
+their attention on the windows, their weapons ready. The windows stared
+blankly back.
+
+The camera shifted back to the weapons carrier. A low voice spoke.
+
+"Let's have a look at that scope, Walton."
+
+A man's back moved aside and the light and dark pattern of the range
+detector showed on the screen. The low voice spoke again.
+
+"Four of them," it said. "Looks as though they've got a small arsenal
+in there with 'em. See those bright pips?"
+
+"Khroal?" queried another voice.
+
+"A couple of those, yeah," the first voice said. "But that isn't too
+bad. Those are just antipersonnel. They've got a pair of rippers, too.
+Good thing we've got screens up. And there's a firebug. They could give
+those guys on the ground a real hard time." A finger appeared in front
+of the detector.
+
+"See that haze with the lines in it?"
+
+"Them the charges?"
+
+"That's right. They show up like that on both scopes, see? You can
+always spot heat-ray charges. They look like nothing else. Only trouble
+is, they louse up the range scale. You can't tell----"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Don looked critically at the carrier.
+
+There was, he thought, evidence of carelessness. No deflector screens
+were set up. A Moreku tribesman could put a stone from a sling in
+there, and really mess them up--if he could sneak in close enough. He
+grinned inwardly.
+
+"Of course, if he hit the right spot, he'd go up with 'em," he told
+himself. "Be quite a blast."
+
+He continued to study the weapons carrier arrangements, noting that the
+chargers were hot, ready for instant activation. Even the gun current
+was on. He could see the faint iridescence around the beam-forming
+elements. He shook his head.
+
+"Hit that lens system against something right now," he muttered
+inaudibly, "or get something in the field, and that would be the end."
+
+The loud-speaker clicked again and the camera swung to center the house
+in its field of view.
+
+"Your time is running out, Waern." The amplified roar of the voice
+reverberated from the hills. "You have twenty seconds left."
+
+Abruptly, the speaker became a blaze of almost intolerable light. The
+man near it rolled away hurriedly, dropping his microphone. Another man
+quickly picked up a handset and spoke briefly into it.
+
+Again, the camera picked up the weapons carrier. The crew chief had his
+hand on his microphone switch. He nodded curtly and adjusted a dial.
+The lens barrel of the projector swung toward the house, stopped, swung
+back a trifle, and held steady.
+
+The pointer, sitting in front of the crew chief, moved a hand and
+flicked a switch.
+
+"Locked on."
+
+The crew chief glanced over the man's shoulder, reached out to put his
+hand on a polished lever, and pressed. Mechanism at the rear of the
+long projector clicked. The faint glow over the beam formers became a
+blaze. A charge case dropped out and rolled into a chute. Another
+charge slid in to replace it and for a brief instant, a coruscating
+stream of almost solid light formed a bridge between house and carrier.
+
+Then the busy click of mechanism was drowned by the crash of an
+explosion. A ragged mass of flame shot from the house, boiled skyward,
+then darkened, to be replaced by a confused blur of smoke and flying
+debris. The crew chief took his hand from the lever and waited.
+
+At last, the drumroll of echoes faded to silence--the debris fell back
+to ground--the smoke drifted down the valley with the light breeze. And
+the rising sun again flooded its light over the estate.
+
+The rambling white house, shaded by its miniature grove of trees, had
+gone. Charred timbers reached toward the sky from a blackened scar in
+the grass. On the carefully kept lawn, little red flowers bloomed,
+their black beds expanding as the flaming blossoms grew.
+
+Near the charred skeleton of the house, one tree remained stubbornly
+upright, its bare branches hanging brokenly. About it, bright flames
+danced on the shattered bits of its companions.
+
+In the fields about the house, men were getting to their feet, to
+stretch cramped muscles and exercise chilled limbs. A few of them
+started toward the ruins and the man by the speaker got to his feet to
+wave them back.
+
+"Too hot to approach yet," he shouted. "We'll let a clean-up crew go
+over it later."
+
+The scene faded. For an instant, the royal colors of Oredan filled the
+screen, then the banner folded back and Daniel Stern faced his
+audience, his gaze seeming to search the thoughts of those before him.
+
+"And so," he said, "Harle Waern came to bay and elected to shoot it out
+with the Enforcement Corps." He moved his head from side to side.
+
+"And with the armament he had gathered, he and his companions might
+even have succeeded in burning their way to the mountains, despite the
+cordon of officers surrounding their hide-out. He thought he could do
+that. But precautions had been taken. Reinforcements were called in.
+And such force as was needed was called into play." He sighed.
+
+"So there's an end. An end to one case. An end to a false official, who
+thought he was too big for the law he had sworn to uphold." He held out
+a hand.
+
+"But there still remain those who hired this man--those who paid him
+the price of those estates and those good things Waern enjoyed for a
+time. Your Enforcement Corps is searching for those men. And they will
+be found. Wherever they are--whoever they are--your Enforcement Corps
+will not rest so long as one of them remains at liberty." He stared
+penetratingly at the camera for a moment, then nodded and turned away.
+
+The musical salute to the ruler sounded from the speakers as the scene
+faded. Once again, the green grass of the Royal Guard parade field came
+into view. As the color guard stood at attention, the band modulated
+into the "Song of the Talu."
+
+Don Michaels got out of his seat. The Aud Call would be over in a few
+minutes, he knew, and he'd have to be at his post when the crowd
+streamed out. He moved back toward the doors, opened one a trifle, and
+slid through.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Some others had already come out into the hall. A few more slid out to
+join them, until a small group stood outside the auditorium. They
+examined each other casually, then scattered.
+
+Unhurriedly, Don walked through the empty corridors, turning at a
+stairwell.
+
+How, he wondered, did a man like Harle Waern get started on the wrong
+track? The man had been a member of one of the oldest of the noble
+families--had always had plenty of money--plenty of prestige. What was
+it that made someone like that become a criminal?
+
+"Should've known he'd get caught sooner or later," he told himself,
+"even if he had no honesty about him. I don't get it."
+
+He got to the bottom of the stairs and walked into the boy's locker
+room.
+
+Between a couple of rows of lockers, a youth sat in an inconspicuously
+placed chair. Don went up to him.
+
+"Hi, Darrin," he said. "About ready to pack it up?"
+
+The other gathered his books.
+
+"Yeah. Guess so. Nothing going on down here. Wonder why they have us
+hanging around this place anyway?"
+
+Don grinned. "Guess somebody broke into a locker once and they want a
+witness next time. Got to have something for us Guardians to do, don't
+they?"
+
+"Suppose so. But when you get almost through with your pre-professional
+... hey, Michaels, how did you make out on the last exam? Looked to me
+as though Masterson threw us a few curves. Or did you get the same
+exam? Like that business about rehabilitation? It ain't in the book."
+
+"Oh, that." Don shrugged. "He gave us the low-down on that during class
+last week. Suppose your group got the same lecture. You should've
+checked your notes."
+
+Darrin shrugged and stood up. "Always somebody don't get the news," he
+grumbled. "This time, it's me. I was out for a few days. Oh, well. How
+was the Aud?"
+
+Don spread his hands. "About like usual, I'd say. Oh, they had a run on
+the end of the Waern affair. Really fixed that bird for keeps.
+Otherwise?"
+
+He waved his hands in a flapping motion.
+
+The other grinned, then turned as a bell clanged.
+
+There was a rumbling series of crashes, followed by a roar which echoed
+through the corridors. Darrin turned quickly.
+
+"I'd better get going," he said, "before I get caught in the stampede.
+Should be able to sneak up the back stairs right now. See you later."
+He strode away.
+
+Michaels nodded and sat down, opening a notebook.
+
+Students commenced rushing into the locker room and the roar in the
+hall was almost drowned out by the continuous clash and slam of locker
+doors. Don paid little attention, concentrating on his notes.
+
+At last, the noise died down and Don looked up. Except for one slender
+figure, crouched by an open locker, the room was empty.
+
+Don looked at the boy curiously. He was a typical Khlorisana--olive
+skinned, slightly built, somewhat shorter than the average galactic.
+Don looked with a touch of envy at the smooth hairline, wondering why
+it was that the natives of this planet always seemed to have a perfect
+growth of head fur which never needed the attention of a barber. He
+rubbed his own unruly hair, then shrugged.
+
+"Hate to change places with Pete Waern now, though," he told himself.
+"Wonder where he stands in this business."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Hurrying footsteps sounded in the corridor and three latecomers rushed
+in. As Waern straightened to close his locker door, the leader of the
+group crashed into him.
+
+"Hey," he demanded, "what's the idea trying to trip me?" He paused,
+looking at the boy closely. "Oh, you again! Still trying to be a big
+man, huh?" He placed a hand on Waern's chest, pushing violently.
+
+"Out of our way, trash."
+
+Pete Waern staggered back, dropping his books. A notebook landed on its
+back and sprang open, to scatter paper over the floor. He looked at the
+mess for an instant.
+
+One of the three laughed.
+
+"That's how you show 'em, Gerry."
+
+Pete stared angrily at his attacker.
+
+"What do you think you're doing?"
+
+The three advanced purposefully. One seized Pete by an arm, swinging
+him about violently. Another joined him and between them, they held the
+smaller lad firmly.
+
+Gerry swung an open hand jarringly against Pete's face.
+
+"Guess you're going to have to have a little lesson in how to talk to
+your betters," he snarled. He drew back a fist.
+
+Don Michaels had come out of his chair. He strode over to the group, to
+face the attacker.
+
+"Just exactly what _do_ you think you're doing?" he demanded
+icily.
+
+"Who do you think you are?"
+
+Don touched a small bronze button in his lapel. "I'm one of the guys
+that's supposed to keep order around this place," he said. "We've got
+self-government in this school, remember?" He swung about to confront
+the two who still held Waern.
+
+"Now, suppose you turn this guy loose and start explaining yourselves."
+
+Gerry placed a large hand on Don's shoulder, kneading at the muscles
+suggestively.
+
+"Look, little man," he said patronizingly, "you'll be a lot better off
+if you just mind your own business. Like watching those lockers over
+there so they don't fly away or something. We'll take----"
+
+Michaels swung around slowly, then put knuckles on hips and stared at
+the other sternly.
+
+"Take that hand away," he said softly. "Now get over there, and start
+picking up those books. Get them nice and neat." His voice rose a
+trifle.
+
+"Now, I said!" He stabbed a finger out.
+
+The boy before him hesitated, his face contorted with effort. He forced
+a hand part way up.
+
+Don continued to stare at him.
+
+The other drew a sobbing breath, then turned away and knelt by the
+scattered books and papers.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Don wheeled to confront the other two.
+
+"Get over by those lockers," he ordered. "Now, let's hear it. What's
+your excuse for this row?"
+
+"Aw, you saw it. You saw that little gersal trip Gerry there." The two
+had backed away, but now one of them started forward again.
+
+"Come to think of it, you don't look so big to me." He half turned.
+
+"Come on, Walt, let's----"
+
+"Be quiet!" Michaels' gaze speared out at the speaker.
+
+"Now, get over to those lockers. Move!" He swiveled his head to examine
+the boy who had picked up the books.
+
+"Put them down there by the locker," he said coldly. "Then get yourself
+over there with your pals." He took a pad and pencil from his pocket,
+then pointed.
+
+"All right. What's your name?"
+
+"Walt ... Walter Kelton."
+
+"Class group?"
+
+"Three oh one." The boy looked worried. "Hey, what you----"
+
+"I'll tell you all about it--later." Don scribbled on the top sheet of
+the pad, then tore it off. He pointed again.
+
+"What's your name?"
+
+"Aw, now, look. We----"
+
+"Your name!"
+
+"Aw ... Gerald Kelton."
+
+"Class group?"
+
+"Aw, same as his. We're brothers."
+
+"What's the number of your class group?"
+
+"Aw ... well, it's three oh one. Like I said----"
+
+"Later! Now you. What's your name and class group?"
+
+"Maurie VanSickle. I'm in three oh one, too."
+
+Don finished writing, then snapped three shots of paper toward the
+three.
+
+"All right. Here are your copies of the report slips. You're charged
+with group assault. You'll report at the self-government office before
+noon tomorrow. Know where it is?"
+
+"Yeah. Yeah, we know where it is, all right," grumbled Gerry Kelton. He
+pointed at Pete Waern.
+
+"How about him?"
+
+"Never mind about that. Just get your stuff and get to your classes.
+And you better make it fast. Late bell's about to ring. Now get going."
+Don turned toward Pete Waern.
+
+"Close your locker, fella, and come over here."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+He glanced at the three retreating backs, then turned and went back to
+his chair. Pete hesitated an instant, then picked up his books and
+locked the door of his locker. Again, he hesitated, and went slowly
+over to stand in front of Michaels.
+
+Don looked at him curiously.
+
+"You ever have any trouble with those three before now?"
+
+Pete shook his head. "Not really," he said. "Oh, one of the Keltons ...
+Gerry ... sneaked off the grounds a few weeks ago. I wrote him up." He
+grinned.
+
+"Pushed on past me when I was on noon guard. I trailed him to his class
+group later and got his name."
+
+Don nodded. "He ever say anything to you about it?"
+
+"No. I've seen him in the halls a few times since then. He always
+avoided me--up to now."
+
+"I see." Don nodded. "But today, he suddenly went for you--with
+reinforcements."
+
+Pete grinned wanly. "I guess I'll have to get used to things like
+that," he said. "Ever since Uncle Harle was----" He clasped his hands
+together, then turned suddenly aside.
+
+For an instant, he stood, head averted, then he ran over to lean
+against a row of lockers, facing away from Michaels.
+
+"Uncle Harle didn't---- Oh, why don't you just leave me alone?"
+
+Don considered him for a moment, then walked over, to place a hand on
+his shoulder.
+
+"Hey, hold up a minute, Chum," he said. "I'm not trying to give you a
+bad time. Now suppose you calm down a little. Doesn't do you a bit of
+good to tear yourself apart. You're not responsible for whatever your
+uncle got into, you know."
+
+Pete faced him, his back braced against the lockers.
+
+"That's what you say here," he said bitterly. "Sure, we've been in the
+same classes. You know me, so you try to be decent. But what do you
+really think? And how about everyone else? You think they're being all
+nice and understanding about this?" He snorted.
+
+"Know why I'm not in class now? Got no class to go to. I was in Civics
+Four this period. They threw me out. Faculty advisor said I'd do better
+in ... in some Shop Study."
+
+Don frowned. "Funny," he said. "You always got good grades. No trouble
+that way?"
+
+"Of course not." Pete spread his hands. "I----"
+
+A low snicker interrupted the words and Don looked around, to see Gerry
+Kelton close by. Behind him were his brother and Maurie. Gerry laughed
+derisively.
+
+"Go ahead," he commented, "let him talk. You might learn something from
+the little----"
+
+Don motioned impatiently with his head.
+
+"Get going, you three," he said sharply. "You've got less than a minute
+before late bell."
+
+"Sure we have," Gerry told him. "We might even be late to class. Now
+wouldn't that be awful? Some jerk wants to write up a bunch of lousy
+report slips, make him look good, we're----"
+
+"Move!" Michaels' voice rose sharply. "Don't try that one on me. It's
+been tried before. Doesn't work."
+
+Gerry paused in mid-stride, then seemed to deflate. He turned away.
+
+"Come on, guys," he said. "Let's get out of here. We'll take care of
+this later."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+As the three disappeared down the hall, Don turned back. Pete was
+staring at him curiously.
+
+"How do you do that?"
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Oh, you know what I mean." Pete shook his head impatiently. "Make
+people do things. There's only one of you and three of them. And
+they're all bigger than you are. Why did they just do what you told
+them without making a lot of trouble?"
+
+Don shrugged, then touched the button in his lapel.
+
+"They were in the wrong and they knew it. They've got enough trouble
+now. Why should they look for more?"
+
+Pete shook his head again. "They didn't have to give their names," he
+said. "All you did was tell them to."
+
+"What else could they do? After all, you know who Gerry is. So he had
+no out."
+
+Pete laughed wryly. "Who'd take my word? Besides, Gerry's shoved
+guardians around before. He's got friends all over school. Ever hear of
+the 'Hunters'?"
+
+"Who hasn't? Supposed to be some sort of gang, but I've never talked to
+anyone that knew much about who they are, or what they do." Don was
+thoughtful. "Supposed to be all galactic kids. I've heard the police
+are trying to break them up. Those three part of that bunch?"
+
+Pete nodded wordlessly.
+
+Don's eyebrows rose a little. "Prove that," he remarked, "and it won't
+just be the school that'll be giving them trouble. The police would
+probably give a lot to really get their hands on some of them."
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," Pete told him. "It was my uncle who was
+interested in the Hunters. Now, it's different. Maybe the guy that went
+and got the proof of their membership would be the one who'd have the
+trouble. Real, final type trouble."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Look, I just told you. Among other things, my uncle was interested in
+the Hunters." Pete bent his knees and took a squatting position. His
+elbows rested on his knees and he relaxed, resting his chin on folded
+hands and looking up at Don.
+
+"Seems as though some other people didn't like to have him asking too
+many questions around." He paused.
+
+"You think my uncle was getting a lot of money from the gamblers and
+some smuggling combine. That right?"
+
+"Well----" Don hesitated.
+
+"Sure you do. So does everybody else. The galactics are telling each
+other about why don't they get somebody in authority besides some
+stupid Khlorisana. And the Khlorisanu talk about the old nobility--how
+they can't stop robbing the people. It all goes along with what the
+papers have been saying. There's been more, too, but those bribery
+charges are what they've really worked on. They keep telling you some
+of the same stuff on the newscasts. And everybody believes them. But it
+isn't true. My uncle was an honest policeman. They got him out of the
+way because he wouldn't deal with them--and maybe for...." He held out
+a hand.
+
+"Figure it out. Why didn't they just give him a trial and put him into
+prison if he were guilty? Or, if they were going to have an execution,
+why not make it legal--over in Hikoran?" He paused, then waved the hand
+as Don started to speak.
+
+"They didn't dare have a trial. It would be too public, and there was
+no real evidence. So they say he escaped. They say he slugged a
+guard--took his weapons. And he's supposed to have shot his way out of
+Khor Fortress, after releasing some other prisoners. They say he forced
+his way clear from Hikoran to the Doer valley." He laughed bitterly.
+
+"Did you ever see Khor Fortress?
+
+"And you should have seen my uncle. He was a little, old man. He'd
+stand less chance of beating up some guard and taking his weapons than
+I would have of knocking out all three of those fellows a few minutes
+ago." Again, he paused, looking at Don searchingly.
+
+"I don't know why I'm telling you all this, unless maybe I better tell
+someone while I'm still around to talk," he added.
+
+"Now wait." Don shook his head. "Aren't you making----"
+
+"A great, big thing? No." Pete shook his head decidedly. "I've talked
+to my uncle. I've heard my uncle and father talk about things. And ...
+well, maybe I've gotten mixed up in things a little, too. Maybe I'm
+really mixed up in things, and maybe----" He stopped talking suddenly
+and got to his feet.
+
+"No, my uncle didn't escape. That whole affair was staged, so they
+wouldn't have to bring him to trial. Too many things would have come
+out, and they could never make a really legal case. This way ... this
+way, he can't talk. No one can defend him now, and no one will ask too
+many questions." He turned away.
+
+"Oh, listen." Don was impatient. "That flight developed into a national
+affair. All kinds of witnesses. It was spread out all over the map.
+People got killed. Who could set up something like that and make it
+look genuine?"
+
+Pete didn't look around.
+
+"Look who got killed. A lot of old-line royalists," he said shortly.
+"And some of the Waernu. You think my uncle would kill his own
+clansmen?" He expelled an explosive breath.
+
+"And there's one man who could set up something like that. He doesn't
+like the old royalists very well, either. And he hates the Waernu.
+Think it over." He walked quickly out of the room.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Don looked after him for a few seconds, then sat down and fixed an
+unseeing gaze on the far wall of the locker room.
+
+"Gaah!" he told himself, "the kid really pulled the door open. Wonder
+why he picked me?"
+
+Come to think of it, he wondered, why was it people seemed to tell him
+things they never mentioned to anyone else? And why was it they seemed
+to get a sort of paralysis when he barked at them? He scratched an ear.
+He couldn't remember the time when the ranch hands hadn't jumped to do
+what he wanted--if he really wanted it. The only person who seemed to
+be immune was Dad. He grinned.
+
+"Imagine anyone trying to get the Old Man into a dither--and getting
+away with it."
+
+He laughed and looked at the wall for a few more seconds, then opened a
+book.
+
+"Wonder," he said to himself. "Seems as though anyone should be able to
+do it--if they were sure they were right." Then he shook his head.
+"Only one trouble with that idea," he added. "They don't." He shrugged
+and turned his attention to the book in his hands.
+
+The click of heels on the flooring finally caused him to look up. He
+examined the new arrival, then smiled.
+
+"Oh, hello, Jack."
+
+"Hi, Don." The other looked at the array of books. "You look busy
+enough. Catching up on your skull-work?"
+
+"Yeah. Guy has to study once in a while, just to pass the time away.
+Besides, this way, the prof doesn't have to spend so much money on red
+pencils."
+
+"Yeah, sure." Jack Bordelle grinned. "Be terrible if he went broke
+buying red leads. I go to a lot of trouble myself to keep that from
+happening." He paused, looked sideways at Don, then rubbed his cheek.
+
+"Speaking of trouble, I hear you had a little scrape here at the
+beginning of the period."
+
+"That right? Where'd you get that word?"
+
+"Seems as though Gerry Kelton didn't make it to class in time. Teacher
+ran him out for a late slip and he got me to write him up. He's pretty
+sore."
+
+Don frowned. "Funny he'd need a late slip. He already had a write-up."
+He shrugged. "Oh, well. I should get excited about making some of the
+lower school crowd sore?"
+
+Bordelle lifted one shoulder. "Well, Michaels, you know your own
+business, I guess, but Kelton's got a lot of friends around, they tell
+me."
+
+"Yeah. I've heard." Don looked steadily at the other.
+
+"And, well----" Bordelle examined the toes of his shoes carefully.
+"Well, maybe you ought to think it over about turning in those slips
+you wrote up, huh?"
+
+"Think so?"
+
+"Well, I would." Bordelle looked up, then down again. "You know, I've
+known a few guys, crossed the Keltons. Right away, they found
+themselves all tangled up with the Hunters. Makes things a little
+rugged, you know?"
+
+"A little rugged, huh?"
+
+"Yeah." Bordelle spread his hands. "Look, Michaels, I've got nothing in
+this one. It's just ... well, I've known you for a few years now--ever
+since Lower School. Been in some classes with you. And you seem like a
+pretty decent, sensible guy. Hate to see you walk into a jam, see?
+Especially over some native kid with a stinking family record." He
+paused.
+
+"Of course, it's your own business, but if it were me, I'd tear up
+those slips, you know?"
+
+"Easy to tear up slips. Only one trouble. They're numbered. How would
+you explain the missing numbers?"
+
+"Well, guys lose books now and then, remember? Maybe they wouldn't
+holler too loud."
+
+Don smiled. "I knew a guy once that lost a book. They took it pretty
+hard. Got real rough about it."
+
+Bordelle shrugged. "Yeah. But maybe Al Wells might not be so rough
+about it this time, huh? He might just sort of forget it, if you told
+him you just sort of ... well, maybe you were checking the incinerator
+on your way to the office, and the book slipped out of your pocket--you
+know?"
+
+"You think it could happen that way?"
+
+"It could--easy."
+
+Don stood up.
+
+"Tell you," he said, "I might lose a book some day. But they don't come
+big enough to make me throw one away." He picked up his books and put
+them under his arm.
+
+"I'm going to turn those slips in tonight. Maybe you'd better turn in
+the one you wrote up, too. Then nobody'll get burned for losing a
+book."
+
+"I always thought you were a pretty sensible guy, Michaels." Bordelle
+shook his head. "After all, you stopped that beef. Nobody got hurt, and
+you've got nothing to prove about yourself. Know what I mean? So why
+the big, high nose all at once?"
+
+A bell clanged and the crash and roar of students dashing about echoed
+through the halls. Don shrugged carelessly.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. Can't even explain it to myself. Maybe I just don't
+like people pushing other people around. Maybe I don't like to be
+threatened. Maybe I've even got bit by some of those principles
+Masterson's always talking about. I don't know." He turned away.
+
+"Well, this is the end of my school day. See you."
+
+Bordelle looked after him.
+
+"Yeah," he said softly. "It's the end of your day all right. Better
+look out it doesn't turn out to be the end of all your days."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Don glanced down at his textbook, then looked out the window. A blanket
+of dark clouds obscured the sky. Light rain filtered coldly down, to
+diffuse the greenery of the school grounds, turning the scene outside
+into a textured pattern of greens, dotted here and there with a reddish
+blur. To the west, the mist completely hid the distant mountains.
+
+It would be cold outside--probably down around sixteen degrees or so.
+It had dropped to fifteen this morning, and unless the weather cleared
+up, there'd be no point in going up to the hills this weekend. The
+Korental and his clan would be huddled in their huts, waiting for
+warmer weather. A wild Ghar hunt would be the last thing they'd be
+interested in. Besides, the Gharu would be----
+
+He jerked his attention back to the classroom. A student was reciting.
+
+"... And ... uh, that way, everything was all mixed up with the taxes
+and the government couldn't get enough money. So King Weronar knew he'd
+have to get someone to help un ... straighten the taxes out, so he ...
+uh, well, Daniel Stern had been in the country for a couple of years,
+and he had ... well, sort of advised. So the king----"
+
+Don looked out the window again.
+
+With this weather, the ranch would be quiet. Hands would be all in the
+bunkhouses, crowding around the stoves. Oh, well, he and Dad could fool
+around down in the range. Since Mom had---- He jerked his head around
+to face the instructor.
+
+Mr. Barnes was looking at him.
+
+"Um-m-m, yes. That's good, Mara," he said. "Michaels, suppose you go on
+from there."
+
+Don glanced across at the student who had just finished her recitation,
+but she merely gave him a blankly unfriendly stare. He looked back at
+the instructor.
+
+"I lost the last few sentences," he admitted. "Sorry."
+
+Barnes smiled sardonically. "Well, there's an honest admission," he
+said. "What's the last you picked up?"
+
+Don shrugged resignedly.
+
+"The appointment of Daniel Stern as Minister of Finance," he said.
+"That would be in eight twelve."
+
+"You didn't miss too much." Barnes nodded. "You just got a little
+ahead. Take it from there."
+
+"After a few months, the financial affairs of the kingdom began to
+improve," Don commenced.
+
+"By the middle of eight thirteen, the tax reforms were in full effect.
+There was strong opposition to the elimination of the old system--both
+from the old nobility, who had profited by it, and from some of the
+colonists. But an Enforcement Corps was formed to see that the new
+taxes were properly administered and promptly paid. And the kingdom
+became financially stable." He paused.
+
+Actually, he realized with a start, it had been Stern who had founded
+and trained the Enforcement Corps--first to enforce the revenue taxes,
+and later as a sort of national police force. And it had always been
+Stern who had controlled the Enforcement Corps. It was almost a private
+army, in fact. Maybe Pete---- He continued his recitation.
+
+"Then Prime Minister Delon died rather ... rather suddenly, and the
+king appointed Mr. Stern to the vacancy. And when King Weronar himself
+died a little more than four years ago, Prime Minister Stern was
+acclaimed as prince regent." Don paused thoughtfully.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Delon's death had been sudden--and a little suspicious. But no one had
+questioned Stern or any of his people about it. And the death of the
+king and queen themselves--now there was.... Again, he got back to his
+recitation.
+
+"There was opposition to Mr. Stern's confirmation as Regent, of course,
+since he was a galactic and not native to the planet. But he was the
+prime minister, and therefore the logical person to take the reins." He
+frowned.
+
+"The claims to the throne were--and still are--pretty muddled. No one
+of the claimants supported by the major tribes is clearly first in line
+for the throne, and no compromise has been reached." The frown
+deepened.
+
+"Traditionally," he went on, "the Star Throne should never be vacant
+for more than five years. So we can expect to see a full conclave of
+the tribes within a few months, to choose among the claimants and
+select one to be either head of the clan Onar, or the founder of a new
+royal line."
+
+Barnes nodded. "Yes, that's fairly clear. But we must remember, of
+course, that the tradition you mention is no truly binding law or
+custom. It's merely a superstitious belief, held to by some of the
+older people, and based on ... well----" He smiled faintly.
+
+"Actually, under the present circumstances, with no claimant clearly in
+line, and with the heraldic branch still sifting records, it is far
+more practical and sensible to recognize the need for a continued
+regency." He took a step back and propped himself against his desk.
+
+"In any event, most of the claimants of record are too young for
+independent rule, so the regency will be forced to carry on for some
+time."
+
+He looked for a fleeting instant at the inconspicuous monitor speaker
+on the wall.
+
+"As matters stand now, the tribes might find it impossible to decide on
+any of the claimants. As you said, there is no truly clear line. King
+Weronar died childless, you remember, and his queen didn't designate a
+foster son." He shrugged.
+
+"Well, we shall see," he added. "Now, suppose we go back a little,
+Michaels. You said there was some opposition from the colonists to the
+tax reforms of eight twelve. Can you go a little more into detail on
+that?"
+
+Don touched his face. He'd been afraid of that. Somehow, neither the
+book nor the lectures really jibed with some of the things he'd heard
+his father talk about. Something about the whole situation just didn't
+make full sense. He shrugged mentally. Well....
+
+The door opened and a student runner came into the room. Don watched
+him walk up to Mr. Barnes with some relief. Maybe, after the
+interruption, someone else would be picked to carry on.
+
+The youngster came to the desk and handed a slip to the instructor, who
+read it, then looked up.
+
+"Michaels," he said, "you seem to have some business at the
+self-government office. You may be excused to take care of it."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Al Wells looked up as Don entered the office.
+
+"What's the---- Oh, Michaels. Got some questions for you on that row
+you stopped in the locker room yesterday."
+
+"Oh? I thought my write-up was pretty clear. What's up?"
+
+The self-government chairman leaned back.
+
+"You said this Gerry Kelton banged into this kid, Waern, started
+pushing him around, and struck him once. That right?"
+
+Don nodded. "That's about what happened, yes."
+
+"And there was no provocation?"
+
+"None that I saw."
+
+"And you saw the whole affair?"
+
+"Everything that happened in the locker room. Yes."
+
+"Uh huh. And you said that two guys, Walt Kelton and Maurie VanSickle,
+pinned this kid's arms while Gerry started to slug him. That it?"
+
+Don smiled. "He only got in one slap before I mixed in," he said. "Had
+his fist all cocked for more, though."
+
+Wells nodded, looking curiously at Don.
+
+"But they quit and turned the kid loose when you told them to?"
+
+"That's right."
+
+"Didn't give you any trouble?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"No." Don shook his head. "Just some talk. Gave their names and class
+numbers. Oh, yeah, they squawked a little, sure. Then they took off for
+class."
+
+Wells looked at Michaels appraisingly.
+
+"Know anything about this Gerry Kelton?"
+
+Don shook his head. "Heard a rumor or so last night," he admitted.
+"Never heard of him before then."
+
+Wells laughed shortly. "We have. He's only got one year in this school,
+but we've had him in here several times. Know him pretty well by now.
+He got set back quite a bit in Primary, so he's some older than most of
+the Lower School bunch." He waved a hand.
+
+"Oh, he's a brawler. We know that. But he doesn't start fights. He
+finishes them."
+
+"He started this one."
+
+"That right? And he quit when you told him to?"
+
+"He did."
+
+"Oh, no. That's not the Kelton. Last guy tried to stop him was out of
+classes for three days. Took five guys to bring Kelton in here." Wells
+shook his head.
+
+"Look, we got him in here and he told us his story. The other two came
+up with the same thing later. Makes sense, too--if you know Kelton.
+It seems he and his brother ran into this kid, Waern, outside the
+auditorium right after Aud Call. They were talking about the newscast.
+And this kid came up and started an argument. Tried to slap Walt. They
+pushed him off and went on their way. VanSickle went with them. He'd
+been in the crowd." Wells leaned forward.
+
+"Got four witnesses to that, too, beside the three of them."
+
+Don moved his head indifferently. "I wouldn't know about that. I wasn't
+there. All I know is what I saw in the locker room."
+
+"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Then, they say they went on down to the locker room,
+after talking to some other students. When they got there, the Waern
+kid came flying at them again. Tried to bite and kick. They say you
+helped Maurie pull him off Gerry, and told 'em you'd take it from
+there. So they went on to class. They can't figure out where you got
+the idea of writing them up over it. Didn't know they'd been written up
+till we sent some guys up and pulled them out of their classes." Wells
+flipped his hands out, palms upward.
+
+"So there's their story. How about it?"
+
+Don shook his head. "Pretty well worked out. Fits the situation, too.
+Only one trouble. There's almost no truth in it. Pete Waern made no
+effort to hit any of those three while I was watching. And I didn't
+touch any of the four myself."
+
+Wells laughed shortly. "That's what you're telling me. I've got a batch
+of statements telling the other story."
+
+Don looked at the other for a moment. "Now wait a minute," he said
+slowly. "Are you trying to tell me what I saw and did?"
+
+Wells shook his head. "Just trying to fill you in. This isn't my
+problem any more. Dr. Rayson's picked it up. Wants to see you. He's got
+Mr. Masterson with him and they're waiting for you to show up so they
+can talk things over with you." He tilted his head.
+
+"I don't know. I've heard about some funny things these Khlorisanu can
+pull off if they can get a guy's attention for a while. And that kid's
+the real thing--from way back. Better think things over a little,
+maybe. See if you can remember any dizzy spells or anything."
+
+"Oh, now check your synchs, Wells." Don waggled his head disgustedly.
+"I've heard those yarns too--down here. Look. All my life, I've been
+living on a ranch out in the mountains. Got Khlorisanu all over the
+place. They work for us up there." He grinned.
+
+"Isn't a thing they can do that you and I can't do, too. They've got no
+special powers, believe me. I know."
+
+"You'd find it pretty hard to tell that one to Doc Rayson and make it
+stick," Wells told him. "And he's the guy you've got to talk to." He
+reached into a basket on his desk and took out a stack of papers.
+
+"Look, I've told you more'n I was supposed to all ready. Suppose you go
+over and talk to them for a while. They're waiting for you over in room
+Five."
+
+Don looked at him for a moment, then went out.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+He swung about and examined the closed door thoughtfully, then massaged
+the back of his neck.
+
+"What's wrong with these people?" he asked himself. "Don't they know
+how to break down a rigged story? Or can't they recognize one when they
+hear it?"
+
+He crossed the hall.
+
+"I'm Donald Michaels," he told the secretary. "I believe Dr. Rayson
+wants to see me."
+
+The woman looked at him curiously.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said. "Just a minute."
+
+She got up and went into an inner room. After a moment, she came out
+and reclaimed her seat behind her desk.
+
+"He's busy right now," she said. "I'll let you know when you can go
+in."
+
+Don shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs that lined the wall. It
+wasn't a very comfortable chair.
+
+"The anxious seat," he growled to himself. "Nice, time-tested trick."
+
+There was no reading material at hand, and the walls of the oddly
+shaped room were blank. He amused himself by directing a blank stare
+toward the secretary. After a few minutes, she looked up from her work
+and jerked her head indignantly.
+
+"Stop that," she ordered.
+
+"Stop what?" Don looked innocent.
+
+"Stop staring at me like that."
+
+"Not staring at you," he told her. "I have to look somewhere and the
+chair faces your way. That's all."
+
+The woman moved her hands. "Well, then face some other way."
+
+"But I'd have to move the chair, and that would disturb your
+arrangements," Don told her reasonably. He continued his blank stare.
+
+The woman resumed her work, then twitched her shoulders and looked at
+him resentfully for a few seconds. Finally, she got up and went to the
+inner office again. Don waited.
+
+Again, she came out.
+
+"They'll see you now," she said.
+
+Don got up.
+
+"Thank you."
+
+He went through the door.
+
+To his right, a man sat behind a wide, highly polished desk. The other
+was across the room, at a smaller desk. Both looked up as the door
+opened.
+
+The man to Don's right nodded pleasantly.
+
+"Well, so you're Donald Michaels? I'm Dr. Rayson."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"That's good. Sit down." Rayson waved. "Right over there." He smiled
+confidently.
+
+"Ah, that's fine. I'm the school psychologist, you know. You have met
+Mr. Masterson, the self-government faculty advisor, of course?"
+
+Don nodded. "Of course. I'm in one of his classes."
+
+"Well, that's good. Now, how do you feel this morning?"
+
+"Quite well, thank you, sir."
+
+"Well, then, we can talk about that little affair in the locker room,
+can't we? Your memory is clear on it by now, isn't it?"
+
+Don nodded.
+
+"Well, that's fine. Now, suppose you give us the whole story. Don't
+leave out a thing. Then, we'll see what we can do for you."
+
+Don smiled thinly, then flicked out a finger.
+
+"I think that paper on your desk, sir, is the report I wrote last
+night. It's complete as it stands."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Masterson broke in, frowning. "We don't mean that thing," he said
+coldly. "What we want is a true, complete account of what actually
+happened."
+
+Don faced him, his face tightening a little.
+
+"Dr. Rayson has just that, sir," he said. "On his desk. I wrote it. I
+signed it."
+
+Rayson raised a hand slightly.
+
+"Just a moment," he said reprovingly. "There's no need for excitement
+or anger here. We're simply looking for a full, correct account." He
+cleared his throat. "Perhaps it would be well for me to make things
+clearer to you. Then, you'll recognize the problem." He looked down at
+the paper on the desk.
+
+"You see, Donald," he continued, "we have already talked to a number of
+other students about this. And we have a complete account of the
+incident in so far as it concerned Petoen Waern." He smiled
+indulgently.
+
+"What we are now concerned about is your own well-being. We need to
+know something of what happened to you after you were alone with the
+Waern boy." He spread his hands, then held them out, palms up.
+
+"As to the actual physical action, that's quite simple. You see, there
+were a number of witnesses to the affair, and most of them have come
+forward." He rubbed his hands together, then laid them on the desk.
+
+"So, we know precisely what happened that far.
+
+"And we have a pretty good idea of what happened to you later, of
+course. This sort of thing has happened before. But by this time, you
+should have had time to recover to a great extent. At least, you should
+remember things much more clearly than you did when you wrote this
+report last night." He touched the paper with a smile.
+
+"And with a little prompting and information, you should be able to
+fully recover your memory."
+
+The smile became sympathetic. "Of course, I can understand your present
+confusion and your complete disbelief in your change of orientation.
+And I know it's quite an effort for a young man to admit he's been ...
+well ... shall we say influenced? But believe me, it's no disgrace.
+It's happened to quite a few others before you." He nodded
+thoughtfully.
+
+"In fact, we are beginning to believe this Petoen Waern, like his
+uncle, is something of an adept at this sort of thing."
+
+Don looked at him steadily.
+
+"Do I act as though I were in a trance, sir?"
+
+"Oh no. No, of course not. This sort of thing doesn't result in such a
+manifestation. This is something much more subtle than mere, gross
+hypnotism." Rayson smiled.
+
+"However, you've had all night to partially recover. And these things
+seldom are fully effective for more than a few hours--unless the
+operator can get to his victim again, to fully fix the impression he
+has created."
+
+Rayson placed the palms of his hands together. "No, by this time, one
+would expect your memories to be somewhat confused. So we can apply
+therapeutic methods." He nodded.
+
+"Now go ahead. Try running through the whole story. Perhaps we can get
+a clue as to his methods. And if you have any ill effects remaining, I
+think they can be quite easily eliminated. Now, suppose you start with
+the time immediately after young Waern's attack on the Kelton boy."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Don shook his head wearily. "There was no such attack," he said. "It
+was the other way around. A large sized chap who later gave his name to
+me as Gerry Kelton, slapped a smaller fellow named Waern. At the time,
+two other fellows were holding Waern's arms. Rather tightly, too."
+
+Masterson interrupted, shaking his head disgustedly. "We've got plenty
+of statements from witnesses. That isn't the way they read. Now how
+about it?"
+
+"You mean the two Keltons and VanSickle?"
+
+"No." Masterson was definite. "No. I don't mean them. There were
+several students around the doorway into that locker room during that
+entire show. We got stories from most of them." He waved a hand
+decisively.
+
+"Now suppose you start using your head. Get busy and give us the thing
+the way it really happened. Then, we'll see what to do about you."
+
+Don shook his head. "The locker room and the hall were empty for at
+least a full minute before those three came in," he said. "If you go
+over the people that signed those statements, you'll probably find that
+they were somewhere else at the time." He grinned.
+
+"And from what I hear, this might give you an idea as to the membership
+of the Hunters, too."
+
+"Hunters!" Masterson looked completely disgusted. "We've checked out a
+hundred crazy rumors about that alleged gang. Nothing there."
+
+"Maybe so." Don looked at him critically. "But Jack Bordelle certainly
+sounded convinced last night. And how about Pete Waern? Didn't he tell
+you his side of this thing?"
+
+"Ah yes, Waern." Dr. Rayson chuckled. "I believe these 'Hunters' are an
+invention of his uncle's. No, that young man didn't come in. His father
+is too smart for that. We won't see that young man again, unless we can
+have him brought in for this bit of work he did on you."
+
+Don turned his head to stare across the desk.
+
+Rayson smiled knowingly. "Oh, yes. Jasu Waern called early this
+morning. He said he was withdrawing Petoen from school. Said he planned
+to send him to a private school where he wouldn't be subject to
+indignities." He chuckled again.
+
+"Jasu Waern is altogether too smart a man to let us question that
+youngster of his if he can prevent it." He looked searchingly at Don.
+
+"You know," he added musingly, "I'm beginning to wonder about you,
+though. This might be serious. Possibly this Waern boy was more
+thorough than we thought possible. Possibly permanent damage could have
+been done." He got to his feet.
+
+"Suppose you go over to that couch there and lie down. We'll try a
+little therapy, and see what we can do for you."
+
+Michaels looked at him indignantly.
+
+"I'm getting a little tired of all these tales about mental influence
+by the Khlorisanu. They're pure myth and I know it. I've lived all my
+life among these people. Believe me, if there were any such thing, my
+father or I would have come across it before now. And we'd know about
+it."
+
+"You are then, ah, presenting yourself as an authority on
+parapsychology, perhaps?" Rayson pursed his lips. "This is a great
+accomplishment for one so young."
+
+"I'm not an authority on anything." Don shook his head. "All I know is
+that I'd find it out right away if anyone tried anything like that on
+me. No one has--at least no Khlorisana has."
+
+Rayson shook his head reprovingly. "Now, you say you have lived all
+your life among these people? Perhaps, then, you have been under----"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+"Just a minute!" Masterson broke in sharply. "What's this about Jack
+Bordelle? He's your relief, isn't he, Michaels?"
+
+"That's right." Don shrugged, then repeated his conversation with
+Bordelle. He smiled wryly as he finished.
+
+"I'll have to admit," he added, "I did walk over and spend a few
+seconds checking the incinerator, at that. But ... oh, well." He waved
+at the paper on Rayson's desk.
+
+"And you didn't put that in your report?"
+
+"No, sir. I didn't think there was any place for it there."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It wasn't material to the case in hand, sir. There was no evidence in
+Jack's comments. He made no threats or offers. And as far as I could
+tell, he was merely a disinterested person concerned in my welfare.
+Even though he seemed to believe what he was saying, it's pure
+hearsay."
+
+"Hearsay!" Masterson snorted. "Pure invention." He leaned forward.
+
+"Look," he said sharply, "we've been pretty patient with you. We've
+given you the benefit of every doubt we could think of. And we're
+getting to the time-wasting stage." He waved a hand sharply across in
+front of his body.
+
+"Now, I'd like to get some truth out of you. You've told us a little
+truth already. I believe you when you say you weren't subjected to any
+mental influence. I think the influence was very material indeed--in
+nice, purple ink--and it seems to have been pretty effective. How much
+was it?"
+
+"How much?" Don frowned. "I wish you'd make yourself clear on that.
+What are you trying to say?"
+
+"Just what you think I said," snapped Masterson. "How much did that
+youngster offer you to write up that incident the way you did? And have
+you the cash in hand yet?"
+
+Don looked at the man carefully, noting the details of his appearance.
+Finally, he shook his head.
+
+"Mr. Masterson," he said slowly, "up to now, I've always thought you
+were a good instructor and a fine advisor. I've sat in your classes,
+and I even developed a lot of respect for you. All at once, you've
+shown me how wrong I could be." He held up a hand.
+
+"Be quiet," he said sharply, "both of you. And listen carefully. I want
+to make myself fully understood. I want to drive one thought into your
+stupid heads. You're in the wrong part of the galaxy for such remarks
+as that one you just made." He touched the corner of his mouth, then
+looked at his fingers.
+
+"You see, this is at the edge of the Morek. There are Moreku here, in
+this school. And some day, you might talk to one of them." He smiled
+thinly.
+
+"I am the only son of a border rancher, Mr. Masterson. We have a few
+thousand square kilos up in the Morek area, in the hills. And I have
+worked and played with mountain tribesmen all my life." He drew a long
+breath.
+
+"Had a few fights with some of them, too. And some of their customs and
+a lot of their moral values rubbed off on me, I guess, though I've
+never been adopted into any clan.
+
+"You just made a remark that is the absolute last word in insults up in
+the Morek. Nothing you could do or say could be worse. And there are,
+as I said, others from that area right here, in this school. Real clan
+members." He laughed shortly.
+
+"Mister, what you said was, 'you sell yourself.'" He reached up to his
+lapel, twisting at the bronze button.
+
+"If you should say that to a tribesman, your life would be over. Right
+then, unless you were very quick. And if you should be quick enough, or
+lucky enough, to kill the man you insulted, his clan brothers would
+take it up. It would be either you--or the whole tribe." He stood up.
+
+"I'm not a tribesman. I don't carry the sling, and I'm of galactic
+ancestry, so I don't have a compulsion toward blood vengeance. But I
+don't accept that insult. I shall go back to the Morek today and place
+you out of my mind." He paused.
+
+"No, I won't kill you. I'll simply warn you so you'll have no excuse
+for such idiocy again." He smiled.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"You know, Mr. Masterson, I don't know how much they pay you by the
+year to sit around here, but I doubt that it's as much as I pay my
+beaters for a week end of hunting. So obviously, even if I were for
+sale, the man who could afford the tab could pick you up with his small
+change." He paused thoughtfully.
+
+"Come to think of it, if your annual pay is more than my beaters get,
+I'll have to raise their wages. They do their job--intelligently."
+
+He turned, then swung back for an instant. The bronze button had come
+out of his lapel. He tossed it on Masterson's desk.
+
+"Here," he said. "A present for you. I can't stand the smell of it."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Dully, the two men sat, watching the closed door. At long last, Rayson
+turned his head with obvious effort, to stare at Masterson, who
+recovered a few milliseconds more slowly.
+
+But Masterson's recovery was the more violent of the two. He stared
+blankly at Rayson for an instant, then sprang to his feet.
+
+"Why that young...! I'll turn him every way but loose."
+
+He sprang around his desk and took a stride toward the door.
+
+"No, no." Rayson raised a hand warningly. "This is no way to handle
+such a matter." He smiled gently.
+
+"After all, this young man succeeded in immobilizing both of us for a
+considerable time. In the first place, I doubt you'd be able to catch
+him. In the second, do you think he would stand still while you mauled
+him by yourself?"
+
+Masterson turned around, frowning. "He caught me unprepared," he
+snarled. "He can't do that to me again. Not while I'm ready for him."
+
+"No? I think he could. Any time, any place, and under almost any
+conditions. And I have much more experience in these matters than you,
+my friend. This is a very dangerous young man, and he requires special
+handling. Sit down and let us consider this young man."
+
+Masterson growled impatiently, but returned to his desk. He sat down,
+glowering at his companion.
+
+"Suppose you tell me what you're talking about," he demanded.
+
+Rayson looked down at his hands, which rested on the desk.
+
+"We have been talking about mental influence, I believe. In fact, we
+mentioned this very matter to our young friend. This is correct?"
+
+"Sure we did. So?"
+
+"And our young man was quite positive that he could never be so
+controlled and that any effort to do so would be immediately apparent
+to him. This is also correct, I believe?"
+
+"That's about the way of it, yes. What are you driving at?"
+
+Rayson sighed. "Let me remind you of something, then. You are, of
+course; of the Ministerial Investigative Force, just as I am. But our
+specialties are different. Your dealings are with the teaching and
+preparation of youth for useful citizenship, and with the prevention of
+certain gross misbehavior. Thus, you deal with those more obvious and
+material deviations from the socially acceptable and have little
+experience with the more dangerous and even less acceptable deviations
+with which I must concern myself." He smiled faintly.
+
+"Your handling of this young man just now would indicate a quite
+complete lack of understanding of the specialty I have prepared myself
+for. And even if there were no other reasons, it would serve to point
+up the reason for our difference in relative rank. You must admit you
+got something less than desirable results." He cleared his throat and
+looked disapprovingly at Masterson.
+
+"Of course, you are familiar with stories of mental influence. And I
+have no doubt that you have had some experience with this type of
+thing, even though it is not in your direct line of work."
+
+Masterson shook his head. "Sorry," he admitted. "This is the first time
+anyone's ever pulled anything like that on me."
+
+Rayson inclined his head slowly. "So," he said softly. "Your lack of
+caution and discretion is more understandable, then. You have been
+quite fortunate, I should say. Of course, extreme individualism is far
+from common now, and persons who combine extreme individualism with
+high empathic power are rare, but they do appear. And they are
+dangerous in the highest degree." He spread his hands.
+
+"A fully developed person of this type could do almost as he pleased
+and there would be no one who would be able to deny him or even check
+his course. You can see what I mean, surely?"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Masterson stared contemplatively into space. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I
+think I get the idea. A person like that could demand almost anything
+from almost anyone--and get it. But how would you go about it to
+restrain one of those people?"
+
+"It can lead to difficulties." Rayson smiled reminiscently. "I can
+remember cases where----" He frowned.
+
+"But no matter. We seldom allow them to reach high development. Very
+often, they betray themselves in little ways and we discover them quite
+early. We are then able to take care of them before they can do serious
+harm. Some, even, we are able to ... ah ... reorient, so that they
+become normal, useful subjects of the realm. But sometimes ... well, we
+have to call upon the Guard and get heavy weapons. Complete elimination
+becomes necessary." He frowned.
+
+"And sometimes, like our young friend, they gain considerable power
+which they manage to conceal, and only betray themselves when under
+stress. Then, they become dangerous in the extreme. And there is no
+really legal way in which they can be handled, since they haven't yet
+committed any overt act of violence." He shook his head.
+
+"No, this young man will require quite special handling. He will have
+to be carefully watched, and will probably get to the stage where
+complete elimination is demanded. I shall set the process in motion
+immediately." He reached for the telephone on his desk.
+
+Masterson looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+"You say these people are pretty rare, and really dangerous?"
+
+"Yes. To both questions, definitely yes."
+
+"Well, then, I should think that anyone who managed to organize and
+direct the elimination of one of them would be likely to get quite a
+bit of credit. Might even lead to a good promotion."
+
+Rayson took his hand from the telephone.
+
+"This is true," he admitted. "You are thinking of----?"
+
+Masterson nodded. "Why don't we pick up a few people and run this
+operation ourselves?" he asked.
+
+Rayson shook his head. "The idea is excellent," he agreed. "But I
+really see no reason for a joint effort." He got to his feet.
+
+"After all, you must admit the total implication of this matter was my
+discovery. I had to explain it to you. And thus, I can see no reason
+for making a full partnership of the matter." He raised a hand.
+
+"Of course, you will receive credit in the matter," he added quickly,
+"and you might even find yourself advanced. But I shall have to insist
+on taking the final steps and directing the operation personally." He
+smiled coldly.
+
+"I can consult with certain of my colleagues and get the necessary
+support. And when I have left, you may get in touch with your superiors
+and report the matter, telling them that action is being initiated.
+This way, we will both receive our due credit." He paused.
+
+"Oh, yes," he added, "and you might interview this young Kelton again,
+with his companions. Thus, you will gather evidence for use in
+justifying my operations."
+
+Masterson looked at him unhappily. "Well ... all right," he agreed
+reluctantly. "Rank has its privileges, I suppose. And I guess in this
+case, that includes the collection of more rank. Suppose I'd better
+take what I can get."
+
+"To be sure." Rayson smiled at him benignly. "This way, you are sure of
+profiting. Otherwise, you might run into disaster." He rose and strode
+toward the door.
+
+"You may get those boys in for interview as soon as I leave," he said.
+"From them, you can get sufficient evidence of these powers of your
+young friend. Ah ... and I would suggest that you use a little more
+discretion with them than you showed with this young Michaels of ours.
+You were a trifle--shall we say, crude?" He coughed.
+
+"Then you may call in and advise Headquarters that evidence has been
+gathered and action is being taken in this case of Donald Michaels."
+
+He turned and went out the door.
+
+Masterson watched as the door closed, then reached into the back of a
+desk drawer. He took out a small box with a number of switches mounted
+on its top. For a moment, he examined the object, then he got to his
+feet and went to the window.
+
+He stood, looking out of the window for a few moments, nodded, and let
+his fingers play among the switches. Finally, he nodded in satisfaction
+and went back to his desk.
+
+He looked contemplatively at the telephone for a moment, then picked it
+up and started flipping at the dial.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+The sports flier dropped free for the last few feet, bounced, tilted,
+and finally righted itself. It was not a very good landing.
+
+Don snapped the switch off and sat for a moment, looking out at the
+long, low house. Then he let himself out of the flier and walked across
+the courtyard and through the door.
+
+The front room was empty. He looked over at the wide glass panels that
+formed one side of the room. A small, dark man came from between the
+bushes of the inner garden. He slid a panel aside and looked
+expressionlessly at Don for a moment. Then he slowly allowed his head
+to drop.
+
+"Master Donald," he said. He raised his head, looking at Don with
+brilliant yellow eyes. "Your father did not expect you until two days."
+
+"I know, Dowro. But I came home early. I want to talk to him."
+
+"It is well." The man motioned toward a curtained arch. "He is below."
+
+"Thanks, Dowro. I'll find him." Don swept the curtains aside and
+turned, to open a heavy door.
+
+As he started down the steep flight of stairs, a sharp crack came from
+the basement. He grinned. With this kind of weather, the range would be
+busy.
+
+Kent Michaels stood on the plastic flooring, a rifle at his shoulder.
+The front sight weaved almost imperceptibly, then steadied. He seemed
+completely unaware of his son's presence.
+
+Suddenly, a spurt of smoke came from the muzzle of the rifle. There was
+another sharp crack and the muzzle swept upward then dropped, to become
+steady again.
+
+At last, the shooter took the weapon from his shoulder and opened the
+action. He looked around.
+
+"Oh, Don," he said. "Didn't expect you for a couple of days. There's no
+holiday down there right now, is there?"
+
+Don shook his head. "I made a new one," he said. "Permanent type."
+
+His father bent over the rifle action, examining it. Then he stepped
+over to place the weapon in a rack. Finally, he turned, to look
+searchingly at his son.
+
+"Permanent?"
+
+"Afraid so, Dad. I guess I sort of blew up."
+
+"Want to tell me about it?"
+
+The older man motioned Don to a camp stool and pulled one over for
+himself. As Don talked, he listened intently. At last, he nodded.
+
+"So that's all of that, eh?"
+
+"Guess it is, Dad. Looks as though I'll have to start working for my
+keep. Won't be any police official in the family after all."
+
+"Could be." Kent Michaels got up and reached out to the weapons rack.
+
+"Got one more shot on this target. Then we'll talk it over, hm-m-mm?"
+
+He stepped up to a line inlaid in the floor. Deliberately, he placed a
+cartridge in the rifle and closed the action. Then, he raised the
+weapon, seated it on his shoulder, and brought it into position with a
+twisting motion.
+
+Don watched, smiling in spite of himself, as the front sight rose and
+fell with his father's breathing. That routine never changed. From the
+time the Old Man picked up his weapon till he laid it down, you could
+predict every move he'd make.
+
+The motion stopped and for endless seconds, the man stood motionless,
+the muzzle of his rifle probing steadily toward the lighted space
+downrange. Then the front sight jumped upward, settled back, and
+steadied again.
+
+"Looked good." Kent Michaels let the weapon down, opened the action and
+checked it, then racked the weapon. He touched a button near the firing
+line and waited for the target to come in to him.
+
+Deliberately, he unclipped the sheet of paper, laid it down, and
+clipped another in its place. He touched another button, then picked up
+the fired target and bent over it, checking his score. Finally, he
+looked up.
+
+"Ninety-seven," he said. "Four X's. Think you can beat it?" He walked
+back to the rack and picked out a rifle. After glancing into the
+action, he held it out toward Don.
+
+"Zero hasn't been changed since you fired it last. Want to take a
+couple of free ones anyway, just to be sure?"
+
+Don looked at him indignantly.
+
+"Good grief, Dad," he objected. "This is no time for a rifle match."
+
+"Good as any, I'd say," his father told him. "Go ahead. There's a block
+of ammo at the point. Take your time, but you'll have to make 'em
+good." He sat down on his camp stool and waited.
+
+Don looked at him for a few seconds, then shook his head resignedly and
+stepped up to the line.
+
+"Oh, well," he said. "I'll try. Never mind the zero rounds."
+
+He loaded the rifle and brought it to his shoulder. The sight weaved
+and bobbed. He brought it down again and looked back at his father. The
+older man pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket.
+
+"Go ahead," he said calmly. "Take a few deep breaths. And relax."
+
+Don bowed his shoulders and let the rifle hang loosely from his
+outstretched arms. He looked downrange, trying to drive everything out
+of his mind but the target hanging down there. Finally, he raised the
+weapon again. The sight bobbed about, then steadied. He put pressure on
+the trigger, then growled softly as the weapon fired.
+
+"Oh, no! Drifted off at three o'clock."
+
+His father exhaled a small cloud of smoke and said nothing. Don looked
+at him unhappily for a moment, then reloaded and brought the rifle up
+again.
+
+Finally, the tenth shot smacked against the backstop and he racked his
+weapon and punched at the target return button.
+
+His father got up and unclipped the sheet.
+
+"Well, let's see," he said. "Eight, nine, nine ... here's a nipper ten
+... nine ... oh, me! You didn't do so well, did you?"
+
+"What would you expect?" grumbled Don. "Give me a couple of hours to
+simmer down and I'll take you on. Beat you, too."
+
+"Suppose you got into a fight, Don?" his father asked. "Think the guy'd
+give you a couple hours to simmer down? So you could maybe shoot his
+eye out?"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+He turned and led the way to a couple of lounge chairs.
+
+"Sit down," he advised. "And turn on that light, will you?" He leaned
+back.
+
+"So you gave Andy Masterson a fast outline on manners, eh?" He laughed
+softly. "Boy, I'd like to have seen his face about then!"
+
+Don jerked his head around. "You know him, Dad?"
+
+"You could say I did once," his father answered. "We went through Guard
+training together. Served on the same base a few times. Some years ago,
+I retired. I'm pretty sure he didn't."
+
+Don pushed himself out of the chair and stood in front of his father.
+
+"You mean Mr. Masterson is----"
+
+Kent Michaels nodded slowly. "Stellar Guard Investigations? Yes, and I
+suspect he could wear quite a bit of silver lace, too, if he wanted to
+get dressed up." He clasped his hands behind his head.
+
+"Let's see, Don, you're almost twenty now. Right?"
+
+"That's right, Dad."
+
+"Uh huh. And you were born here on Khloris. Means I've been out of
+active duty for quite a while, at that." He smiled.
+
+"Got papers upstairs. They say I retired a little more than twenty-one
+years ago. Got official permission to live on an outworld and joined
+the first group of colonists here. Of course, they don't say anything
+about the people that told me to do all that."
+
+Don stared at him. "What are you getting at, Dad?"
+
+His father smiled. "Man retires, he's supposed to be all through with
+duty. Not subject to recall except in case of galaxy-wide emergency."
+He nodded thoughtfully.
+
+"True. But a lot of people never really retire from the Guard. Things
+keep coming up, and that pension begins to look more like a retainer
+fee."
+
+He held up a hand.
+
+"Suppose I give you a little go-around on some history that isn't in
+the books--at least not in the books they use in these schools.
+
+"Of course, you know about the arrival of the _Stellar Queen_. You've
+read all about the original trade contracts here in Oredan. And you've
+read a lot about the immigrations. And the border settlements.
+
+"Yes, and you know about the accession of Daniel Stern, first to the
+Ministry of Finance, then to the Prime Ministry, then to the Regency.
+Quite a success story, that. And you have read about the mixup in the
+royal succession." He smiled.
+
+"It all went about that way. Oh, sure, it wasn't quite as peaceable and
+orderly as the books make it look, but no history bothers with the
+minor slugfests. What they're concerned in is the big picture.
+
+"Well, when the king agreed to colonization of the outer provinces,
+quite a few people came crowding out here. And there was more than a
+little thievery and brawling and rioting. Naturally, the Federation
+Council was interested. And the Stellar Guard was more directly
+interested.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"So, they encouraged a lot of retired guardsmen to come out here,
+weapons and all. And they assigned a few more people to ... well, sort
+of keep an eye on things. They set some people up with reasonably
+decent claims, saw to it that the rest of us got a good start, and left
+us to take it from there." He smiled.
+
+"We had some fun, now and then. Got the border pacified. Got the crooks
+and the tough boys calmed down. And we got the hill tribes cooled off
+some, too. Even made friends with them--after a while. And some guys
+got married and made noises like real Khlorisanu--genuine Oredanu, in
+fact. A few of them married Oredana girls." He laughed shortly.
+
+"The Khlorisanu are humanoid--human to as many decimals as you need to
+go. There's a little minor variation in superficial appearance between
+them and the average galactic, but there's no basic difference. Quite a
+few of the fellows found the local girls made good wives.
+
+"But anyway. There wasn't any real organization among us. We just ...
+well, sort of knew what the other fellow was about. Kind of kept our
+own personal policy files. And things went along pretty well.
+
+"Oh, there were some fellows who stuck to some sort of organizational
+structure, I suppose. You know how that is--some guys can't draw a deep
+breath unless the rest of the team is there to fill in the picture.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+"And then, there were several people like Andy Masterson, who showed up
+from nowhere. That was none of my business. Happened to know Andy, but
+I've never talked to him here. Those people had complete new
+backgrounds. No Guard experience--it says here. And they joined the
+economy--took out Oredan citizenship. Some of them got into government
+work.
+
+"Then this guy, Daniel Stern, showed up. He started grabbing influence
+with both hands. Smart young guy. Killed off a prime minister--we
+think--and a king. Can't prove any of that, though." Kent shook his
+head.
+
+"Don't think we didn't try to stop him, once we realized what he was up
+to. We did. About that time, a whole lot of us did get together and
+organize. But he's one of those people. If he tells a man to go out and
+shoot himself, the next thing you hear is the sound of a falling body."
+His eyes clouded and he looked searchingly at Don.
+
+"You should know what I mean. Like when you told that Ghar thief to
+tell us all about it--remember?"
+
+"Look, Dad, that's something I'd like to know...."
+
+Kent Michaels waved a hand. "So would I. But I know less about it than
+you do, so it's no use. All I know is that some people can tell most
+anyone to do almost anything--and it gets done. As I said, Stern seems
+to be one of them." He shrugged.
+
+"Anyway, we lost a lot of good colonists before we decided to sit back
+and wait this boy out.
+
+"It's been a long wait. Some of us have gotten rich in the meantime, in
+spite of Stern's trick taxes. Some of us have had a pretty rough time,
+I guess. But we're all growing older, and Stern's pretty cagey about
+immigration. Doubt if many guardsmen are getting in these days. We're
+going to have to depend on our kids, I think."
+
+Don leaned forward.
+
+"In other words, I could have kicked over an applecart?"
+
+"Well, let's say you might have bent an axle on your own pretty, blue
+wagon. It's a good thing Masterson was there when you blew up. Anyone
+else, and I might have come up short one son. I wouldn't like that too
+well. Might make me go down to Oreladar and try a little target
+practice." He frowned thoughtfully.
+
+"You know, come to think of it, no one ever made me do anything I
+didn't want to do."
+
+Don looked thoughtful.
+
+"What do I do now?"
+
+"Just what you said. Start working for your keep. If I get the news
+right, the waiting period is about over. Stern's finally dipped his toe
+in the water, with that business over Waern, and we might be able to do
+something. You just might get your teeth into it. And maybe I'll find
+myself going back to work.
+
+"First, you'll have to go back to Riandar. Apologize to Masterson, of
+course, and give him a peace offering. I'll give you a bottle of
+Diamond Brandy before you leave. Be sure you hold the diamond in front
+of him when you stick the bottle out. Otherwise, he might throw
+something. He'll take it from there." The older man grinned.
+
+"And if I remember Andy Masterson, he'll come up with enough work to
+keep you busy."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Andrew Masterson frowned at the bottle held before him.
+
+"What's this?" he inquired. "You know better than to bring stuff like
+this on the grounds."
+
+Don Michaels shrugged. "Dad said there wasn't too much of it around any
+more. Thought you might like some."
+
+"Oh, he did? Yeah. Well, I'll take it as well meant. Might find someone
+who could use it." Masterson opened a drawer and thrust the bottle
+inside.
+
+"He have anything else to say?"
+
+Don nodded, looking at Masterson's suddenly watchful eyes. "He said if
+you'd come up our way, he'd show you how to hold 'em and squeeze 'em.
+Said maybe you might like to bring up some friends some time and give
+them a chance to find out what border life is like."
+
+"Huh! You mean he's still playing games with those antique lead
+tossers?" Masterson grinned suddenly. "Thought he'd have outgrown that
+foolishness years ago. By the way, how's he shooting these days?"
+
+"Fired a pinwheel after I told him about the row yesterday. Meant he
+only dropped three points on the target--standing."
+
+"So? Maybe he could do damage with one of those antiques of his, at
+that--if he could get someone to hold still long enough for him to
+shoot at them. But nobody makes ammunition for the things any more.
+Where's he getting that?"
+
+"Makes it himself." Don smiled. "He's got quite a workshop down in the
+basement."
+
+Masterson nodded. "That's Kent Michaels, all right. O.K., youngster, I
+knew who you were in the first place. Just checking. Tell me, did he
+get you mixed up with that antique craze of his?"
+
+Don nodded. "I beat him at it once in a while, sir."
+
+"Did you hand him another beating yesterday? When you went out of here,
+it looked as though you were going to have to whip somebody."
+
+Don frowned. "He made a monkey out of me. I couldn't stay on target."
+
+"Uh, huh." Masterson nodded slowly. "Figures. Remember that, that it'll
+be the most valuable match you ever lost."
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"That's right. Yesterday, you got pretty well charged up. Even managed
+to warm up a secret police agent. Doesn't pay, believe me. About the
+time you get emotionally involved in a problem, the problem turns
+around and bites you. You're lucky. Someone else got bit instead--this
+time. You see, one of us didn't get shook up."
+
+"I don't----"
+
+Masterson tilted his head. "We had an unfortunate accident here right
+after you left. Dr. Rayson went rushing out of here and took off in his
+flier. Something went wrong--nobody's sure what. Maybe he didn't let
+his stabilizing rotors have time to lock in. Maybe a lot of things.
+Anyway, he flipped about fifty meters up. Came down pretty fast, and
+burned right by the parking lot. Quite a mess." He nodded sadly.
+
+"Shame. Fine psychologist, and one of the best secret policemen in the
+realm."
+
+"You----"
+
+Masterson held up a hand. "Let's just say he was careless." He
+motioned.
+
+"Sit down. No, not in the hot seat. Take that one over there. Then you
+can see things." He drew a long breath.
+
+"Your father say anything about Stern?"
+
+Don nodded. "He doesn't like him too well."
+
+"He's got company. Know what Stern's trying to do, don't you?"
+
+Don laughed uneasily. "I'm pretty well mixed up, to be truthful. From
+what Dad told me, he's trying to turn Oredan into a Dictatorship, with
+him at the head. Then, he'll take over the rest of the planet--a piece
+at a time."
+
+"Close. He's planned it pretty well, too. He's got the royal succession
+pretty well balled up. He's almost ready to move in right now. Only one
+stumbling block. Know what that is?"
+
+Don shook his head.
+
+"Youngster named Petoen Waern. He's old enough--older than he looks.
+His mother's a niece of the last king. Conclave of the tribes could put
+him on the throne tomorrow morning. He's a bet Stern missed a while
+back. Now, he's trying to make up for it."
+
+Don frowned. "Is that really why----"
+
+"Right. That's why the row in the locker room. That would have
+eliminated that claimant in a hurry. Nobody wants a king with a family
+criminal record and a habit of starting brawls--especially when he
+loses those brawls. Kings just aren't supposed to go in for that sort
+of thing." Masterson smiled mirthlessly.
+
+"Anyway, I doubt he'd have survived that affair if you hadn't rammed
+your neck into it."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+"But there are other claimants. They'll come of age pretty soon."
+
+"Sure they will. But that's pretty soon--and not soon enough. Besides,
+Stern's got them under control, along with their families--the
+important ones, anyway. There'd be a deadlock when a conclave started
+checking their claims. And somehow, their councilors wouldn't be able
+to come up with quite the right arguments.
+
+"If a formal conclave meets, and no claimant is clearly eligible for
+the throne--know who'll be called to start a new royal line?"
+
+"But he----" Don shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Yes, he could." Masterson shook his head. "Sure, he's regent. But he
+hasn't renounced his position as prime minister. And with his personal
+effect on people, he couldn't lose. No, the only reason he can't stand
+a conclave right now is one youngster--and one family he's never been
+able to control, because they stay out of his personal reach. And he
+almost got the youngster out of the way. Neat little operation, with
+only one thing that could go wrong. You."
+
+Don frowned. "But that affair was just a personal----"
+
+"Think so? Oh, sure, I gave the Hunters a big horselaugh yesterday.
+Rayson was around then. And Rayson was a pretty big boy. He knew all
+about the Hunters, I'm pretty sure. And I know better than to laugh
+about them." He leaned forward.
+
+"I can't prove it, and it wouldn't do too much good if I tried, but I
+know perfectly well who's behind not only the Hunters, but a flock of
+other criminal gangs--juvenile and adult as well. Think I didn't know I
+was talking to a bunch of Hunters when I listened to that rigged story
+of theirs about the Keltons? Think I didn't realize Rayson was sitting
+there prompting them whenever they started to get confused?" He smiled.
+
+"Maybe I'm stupid, but I'm not that stupid. The reason I was rough on
+you was the fact I didn't want you signing any statements that Pete had
+hypnotized--or what would you call it--you. That would have fixed the
+whole thing and they'd have had him." He coughed.
+
+"And, too, I knew who you were, of course. I didn't know for certain
+how you stood, or how much you could do, but you looked good. And it
+was pretty obvious you had capabilities." He smiled.
+
+"Some of the retired guardsmen have had sons go sour on them, you know,
+so I can't take 'em just on faith. But, as I said, the locker room deal
+looked good, and the more you talked, the better I liked it."
+
+"But you----"
+
+"Yeah, I know. I wasn't taking such a chance, though, at that. Truth of
+the matter is I'm about as bad as your father. You couldn't make me
+give you the right time if I didn't feel like it." Masterson's eyes
+crinkled in an amused smile.
+
+"Go ahead. Try it."
+
+Don shook his head. "I'll take your word," he said. "I tried to tell
+Dad off once. Somehow, things get a little unpleasant."
+
+"Yeah." Masterson stretched luxuriously. "Anyway, I figured you'd be a
+lot handier around here alive and in operating condition. The last
+thing I could let happen would be for Rayson to get you on that trick
+table of his. Once he got that thing to rocking and rolling, he'd stand
+back there, making soothing noises, and almost anyone would break down
+and give him all they'd ever known. After that, they'd lie back and
+believe anything he felt like telling them." He waved a hand back and
+forth as Don started to speak.
+
+"Later, huh? We can discuss all the ins and outs some day when this is
+all over. Right now, let's be getting back to business." He smiled
+disarmingly and leaned back in his chair.
+
+"Somehow, Stern's hand has got to be forced. He's off balance right
+now, and we want him further off. We want him to make a move he can't
+back out of. And you may be able to make him do just that."
+
+"I might?"
+
+"Yes. Suppose the hill tribes joined with the Waernu and demanded that
+a conclave consider Pete's claim to the throne. What then?"
+
+"I guess there'd be a conclave."
+
+"There might, at that. Now, let's go a little further. Suppose the
+Waernu claim were upheld and we got a new king--let's see, he'd drop a
+syllable--King Petonar. Where would our friend, Stern, end up?"
+
+Don grinned wolfishly. "Khor Fortress. Even I can figure that much
+out."
+
+Masterson stood up and paced around the office.
+
+"So, if we can get Jasu and his son in motion and get them up in the
+Morek, something's bound to break. Right?" He stopped in front of Don.
+
+"Oh, of course, Stern might call out the Royal Guard and scream
+rebellion. He'd probably do just that, if things went that far. He's
+getting in the propaganda groundwork for it now. But what he doesn't
+know is that he'd help us that way." He perched on Rayson's desk.
+
+"You see, we've got some colonists that would yell at the top of their
+lungs for protection of their interests by the Federation. And then
+there would be a conclave--with plenty of supervision. Either way, he'd
+get right into checkmate." He clasped one knee in his hands and rocked
+back and forth.
+
+"But there's one thing that stands in our way. Jasu Waern's scared to
+death. We've never quite dared explain this whole thing to him, and now
+no one can get near enough to talk to him. Harle was the clan head and
+the one with the nerve. He's gone, and Jasu's holed up. Won't let his
+son out of the house. Won't let anyone in. We can't move."
+
+He got back to his feet and walked over to the window.
+
+"Now, let's take some more suppositions. Suppose a flier went out of
+control and crashed in the middle of the Waern house. Or suppose some
+major criminal took refuge close to the place and decided to shoot it
+out with the Enforcement Corps. Seems to be a habit criminals have
+gotten into lately. And suppose a stray inductor beam just happened to
+graze the Waern living room.
+
+"Then, who's checkmated?"
+
+He looked down at his chair, then walked over and dropped into it.
+
+"There's only one way to get Jasu in motion. You're it. The way you
+slammed Rayson back in his chair yesterday gave me an idea. You can get
+in there, and you'll have to move him--by force--compulsion--however
+you want to.
+
+"Meantime, I'll get some things going. Your father can start the hill
+tribes getting together. He knows all the important head men. I'll give
+him a little push in that direction. Then, we'll get some more people
+to work."
+
+Don looked at him for a moment. "Well, Dad told me I'd probably have to
+earn my keep. Anything else I ought to know?"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Jasu Waern looked up in annoyance, then got to his feet.
+
+"Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get in here?" He reached into
+a pocket.
+
+Don Michaels spread his hands away from his body.
+
+"Leave that weapon alone," he said sharply. "I came as a friend, and
+I'd hate to have someone shooting at me."
+
+"But who are you?"
+
+"I'm Donald Michaels. I want to talk to Pete ... Petoen, I should say."
+
+"My son is seeing no one. There has been----"
+
+"I know," interrupted Don. "Trouble. Listen, I've had trouble myself in
+the past couple of days. It all started when I prevented a bunch of
+roughnecks from slapping Pete around." He frowned.
+
+"Since then, things haven't been too pleasant." He held up a finger.
+
+"I got accused of falsifying my report on the affair in the locker
+room. Pete didn't show up to testify, and everyone was looking at me."
+He extended a second finger.
+
+"Pressure was put on me to sign a statement saying Pete used mental
+influence to make me put in a false statement. And I got into it with
+the school psychologist." A third finger snapped out.
+
+"Next thing, I was being accused of accepting a money bribe from Pete.
+And I really got into it with the faculty advisor. That's not good." He
+dropped his hands to his sides.
+
+"Right now, I'm not too popular at school. And I want to know what's
+going on. I want to know why Pete didn't show up to give me backing. I
+want to know what can be done to unscramble this mess."
+
+Wearn shook his head slowly. "There are other schools--private
+schools," he said. "And we are still possessed of some----"
+
+"Careful, Mr. Waern." Don held up a warning hand. "I don't carry the
+sling, but I do come from the Morek. Don't say something that might be
+misinterpreted. I want to see things straightened out. I didn't come
+here to start a feud with you."
+
+Jasu Waern shivered a little. "But you are galactic, are you not?
+Surely, you are no hillman."
+
+"I was brought up among them. Now get Pete. I want to talk to both of
+you."
+
+Waern looked unhappy. But he walked across the room and pulled at a
+cord.
+
+A servant came to the door.
+
+"Tell Master Petoen," ordered Waern, "that I would like to see him in
+here."
+
+The man bowed and left. Waern turned back to Don.
+
+"You see, Mr. Michaels," he said apologetically, "we are in difficult
+times here. My brother----"
+
+"I know." Don nodded. "Pete was upset the other evening. He told me a
+little. A little more than is made public."
+
+Waern's eyebrows went up. "He said nothing about that."
+
+Don waved negligently. "It did no harm. Maybe it was a good thing." He
+turned toward the door, waiting.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Pete came in, looking about the room. "You brought Don Michaels here,
+Father?"
+
+Waern shook his head. "He came. He insisted on talking to you, Petoen.
+And I find he is very persuasive."
+
+"Oh." Pete turned. "I'm sorry, Don. Father thought that I----"
+
+Don laughed shortly. "He was right--to some extent. But I'd like to
+talk to both of you about a few things."
+
+He moved back, to perch on the edge of a heavily carved table.
+
+"Let's look at it this way. I got into trouble over the affair. Not
+good, of course, but what happened to me is just one small incident.
+All over Oredan, good intentioned people have things happening to them.
+Sometimes, they're pretty serious things--like someone getting killed.
+And they usually can't figure out what hit them. These things happen
+pretty often. Why?"
+
+Waern looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. Don looked at him
+curiously.
+
+"Do you really think, Mr. Waern, that you can sit here in peace? That
+if you ignore this whole mess, it'll go away?"
+
+Jasu Waern spread his hands. "What dare I do? My brother was trying to
+do something. He is gone."
+
+"True. He tried to clean up a little here and fix a little there. And
+that only in one city. He didn't come boldly out and demand. He was
+playing on the edge of the board, not in the center. A king could do
+much more than that."
+
+Waern looked at him, shaking his head.
+
+"Yes, I know about the succession," Don told him. "And why shouldn't
+you demand? You could get the support of the hill tribes. All you need
+do is ask."
+
+"I have thought of that. Perhaps we should have done that--once. But
+now? After my brother's death? And what could the hillmen do against
+the weapons of the plains?"
+
+Don smiled at him. "Would the hillmen believe the stories about your
+brother in the face of your personal denial before their own council?
+Would they accept such a thing about any of the Waernu unless it were
+proven by strong evidence? Yours is one of the clans, even yet, you
+must remember. And how about the honor of the Waernu?"
+
+Jasu's face was suddenly drawn. Don continued.
+
+"And would the plainsmen dare use their weapons against a legitimate
+claimant? For that matter, what good would their weapons be against a
+Federation Strike Group, even if they did use them?"
+
+"You seem so sure."
+
+"Not just sure. Certain." Don glanced at his watch, then frowned.
+
+"We've lost a lot of time." His voice sharpened.
+
+"Come on," he snapped. "My sportster will carry three people. Let's get
+out of here while we can still make it." He made shooing motions.
+
+Waern moved toward the door, then turned.
+
+"To the Morek?"
+
+"That's right. Up to the Morek. We're going to start a feud."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Andrew Masterson looked at the handset approvingly. Little Mike was
+getting the idea. He was still just as fast as he'd ever been. He made
+a little noise in his throat, then spoke.
+
+"Well, if you have any questions, Mr. Michaels, feel free to call us
+here. Thank you, and good-by."
+
+He dropped the handset to its cradle and leaned back again.
+
+So that was set up. Little Mike would be on his way out to the hills by
+the time he'd completed this next call. And he'd have the clans ready
+for talks with the Waernu. Now, the next step would be to alert Jahns,
+down in the Resident Commissioner's office.
+
+He looked at the surface of his desk, considering, then reached for the
+phone again. He'd have to be careful on this one.
+
+The door opened and two men came through. One of them held out a card.
+
+"Masterson?"
+
+"That's right."
+
+"Like to have you come with us. People investigating Rayson's accident
+have some questions they'd like to ask you."
+
+"Oh?" Masterson's eyebrows went up. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help
+on that. I saw him go down, of course, but the view from this window
+isn't the best. I really----"
+
+The other shook his head. "Look, don't tell me about it. They just told
+us to come out and get you. Got a lot of experts down there. They'll
+ask the questions."
+
+Masterson looked at the man appraisingly, then glanced at his partner,
+who stood by the door, leaning against the wall.
+
+These two, he thought, would be no great problem. Nothing here but arms
+and legs. But----
+
+[Illustration]
+
+He smiled to himself.
+
+_It would be you or the whole tribe_, he thought.
+
+He might still be able to remain under cover, and he'd be a lot more
+effective that way.
+
+So maybe they were a little suspicious. He glanced down at the desk.
+The little control box was safely destroyed and its operation had left
+no evidence. Even if they did suspect the cause of Rayson's crash, they
+couldn't prove a thing. No, his best bet was to go along with these two
+and hope the questioning would be short enough to allow him to brief
+Jahns with plenty of time to spare. He shrugged.
+
+"Well," he said aloud, "I'll go with you, of course, though I don't see
+how I can be of any help. Terrible thing, losing Rayson that way."
+
+"Yeah. Real bad." The other nodded curtly. "Come on. Let's go."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Daniel Stern looked angrily at his aide.
+
+"Just who is responsible for this report?" he demanded.
+
+The aide looked aside. "It came in from Riandar Headquarters, your
+honor," he said. "Colonel Konir signed it himself."
+
+"I can read," snapped Stern. "But who's responsible? What idiot let
+this thing fall apart?" He shook the papers angrily.
+
+"Look at this thing," he ordered. "Simple instructions were issued.
+With the organization they have up there, any fool could have carried
+them out. So long as they kept it simple, even an idiot could have
+eliminated that Waern nuisance. But no! Someone had to be subtle.
+Someone had to make a big project out of it. And, of course, something
+went wrong." He snorted angrily and slapped the papers down on his
+desk.
+
+"Rayson was responsible in part, I suppose?"
+
+The aide nodded unhappily and Stern let out an explosive breath.
+
+"Your man! Well, at least, where he is, he can do no more harm. Tell
+me, are they going to get a confession out of that man, Masterson?"
+
+"I doubt it, your honor. He claims to know nothing of the accident. And
+there isn't a scrap of evidence that----"
+
+"Evidence! There's very little doubt is there? With those notes of
+Rayson's? And who else could have caused the crash?"
+
+"Well, there certainly is no other----"
+
+"Of course not. We know Masterson did it somehow. But why?"
+
+The aide said nothing and Stern glared at him.
+
+"Who is this Masterson?" he demanded. "Have you checked back on him?"
+
+"He came here from Nogira," said the aide slowly, "seventeen years ago.
+He had some civil police experience there. We've checked that. He has a
+degree in criminalistic science. We checked that, too. Not a suspicious
+move since he came here. He was in the Civil Branch for a few years,
+then was assigned to instructional duty. He's got a perfectly clean
+record."
+
+Stern shook his head slowly, then looked down at the desk again.
+
+"Just that little," he growled. "He could have simply hated Rayson for
+some private reason. He could have seen him as an obstacle. We could
+care less about that." He tapped at a paper.
+
+"Or, he could be working with the Waernu. And that's probable. He could
+even be an undercover agent for the Federation, though that seems a
+little improbable. He's been here too long. Hah! He could be almost
+anything except what Rayson thought." He looked up.
+
+"Well, don't let him go. Keep him out of circulation. In fact, you
+better have him put in tight confinement. We'll look into him more
+closely later. Right now, I want to know what became of that Waern
+boy."
+
+The aide pointed at the papers on the desk. "The boy and his father are
+reported to have left their residence, your honor. It is thought they
+went with that same Donald Michaels who interfered with the original
+plan."
+
+Stern nodded. "The boy Rayson had right in his hands, and then let go.
+Yes." He looked around the room, then got to his feet.
+
+"Tell me, has any progress been made on locating the Waern 'Book of
+Ancestors'?"
+
+"No, your honor. Records has located and destroyed the last of the
+evidence here in Oreladar. But the Waern copy has not yet been
+located."
+
+Stern nodded. "Find out who is responsible for the long delay in
+discovering the Waern claim, Lander. That is inexcusable." He frowned.
+
+"Now, to the Waernu. Did anyone see them leave their home?"
+
+The aide shook his head. "Observers say Michaels' flier landed in the
+Waern courtyard. A few minutes later, it took off and headed toward the
+mountains. The observers were unable to determine how many people were
+in the flier when it departed. It left too abruptly and traveled too
+fast. They determined its direction, but were unable to follow it."
+
+"Valuable men! I think we should take careful note of all those people
+up at Riandar. Possibly they should be reassigned to duties more suited
+to their abilities. Tell me, did anyone have the elementary
+intelligence to have this flier tracked?"
+
+"They tried, your honor. But it disappeared in the canyons, flying very
+low. Search fliers have been operating for several hours, but no trace
+of it has been found."
+
+Stern nodded. "Well, we won't discuss it any further," he decided. "You
+know my feelings on the Riandar people. I should say it would be safe
+to assume the Waernu are holed up in Michaels' home. Get the exact
+location of that place. Then set up an Enforcement Corps operation." He
+frowned.
+
+"Get some men out to make sure those people don't go into the hill
+country before we can take care of them. You can use the search planes
+for that. Then attend to your advance publicity and set up elimination.
+You'll give that personal supervision, all the way through. Clear?"
+
+The aide nodded.
+
+"Very well. See that you make it simple. I'm not going to tell you how
+to handle this in detail, but I expect to watch a broadcast showing
+their removal within the next three days. Get started."
+
+"Yes, your honor." The aide backed out of the room.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Stern watched the door close behind the man, then faced around as a dry
+voice sounded behind him.
+
+"Real nice, Danny," it said. "You went through it without a stumble.
+Even came up with something of your own. You're learning, Kid."
+
+Stern glared at the scrawny man.
+
+"I thought you picked those people up at Riandar. I thought you said
+they knew how to do things."
+
+The other shrugged and spread his hands. "Well, Danny," he said, "you
+know how it is. Once in a while, we underestimate the opposition, and
+they slip one over." He leaned back in his chair, staring at Stern.
+
+"But maybe this way, it's even better," he added. "We get a few in the
+net we didn't even suspect existed, you see?" He paused.
+
+"I think you should have a talk with this Masterson yourself," he went
+on. "Maybe you should tell him to give us some of this information he
+has, eh?"
+
+Stern looked at him in annoyance. "I expect you and the rest of the
+people around here to do some work, Gorham. After all, I'm the regent.
+Do I have to do everything?"
+
+Gorham got to his feet and brushed some of the dust from his trousers.
+
+"I tell you, Danny," he said seriously, "some of these little things,
+you have to be doing. Some of these things, only your talent will take
+care of, no?" He held up one hand, waggling a finger in the air.
+
+Stern glared at him.
+
+"Gorham," he snapped, "I think I'll have to remind you of your place."
+He tapped himself on the chest.
+
+"I'm the regent, remember? I'm the kingpin here. You're just a senior
+executive secretary. You wanted it that way, and that's the way it is.
+But I expect you to start doing some work. I don't care how you get
+information out of that man, Masterson, but I expect you to get it. I
+certainly don't intend to do your work for you. Now get at it!"
+
+Gorham considered him for a moment, then walked slowly across the room
+till he stood before Stern's desk.
+
+"Now, Danny-boy," he said softly, "don't you go trying that funny stuff
+on old Jake. It don't work so good, remember? Nobody ever tells old
+Jake he should do things. Nobody!"
+
+He planted his left hand on the desk before Stern and leaned over a
+little.
+
+"We got an agreement, you and I, remember? I do the thinking. Me--old
+Jake Gorham--I'm the brain. You got this talent, see. You tell people
+they should go do something, they go do it. But not old Jake. No, no.
+With him, it don't work so good. Everybody else, maybe, but not old
+Jake." He waved his head to and fro, keeping watchful eyes on Stern.
+
+The younger man slammed his hands to his desk, pushing himself back.
+
+"You listen to me, old man," he snapped. "We had an agreement--once.
+And you've been using it to ride my back ever since. It's come to an
+end. Right now." He got to his feet, his deepset eyes seeming to flame.
+
+"From now on, I'm the top man, do you understand?" His lip curled.
+
+"I'm the regent. I'm the law. I tell these people what to do, and they
+do it. And I can tell them to take you out and shoot you. Don't forget
+that." His hand started toward a button on his desk.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Jake Gorham's hand blurred into motion and a small weapon was suddenly
+in it. He pointed it at Stern.
+
+"Sit down, Danny-boy," he ordered menacingly. "Sit down. And listen.
+Listen real good." He spread his legs a little.
+
+"Like I said, I'm the brains here. I do the thinking. Remember back in
+Tonar City? Remember what happened, you tried once to run things for
+yourself? Remember who came along and pulled you out just in time?" He
+laughed shortly.
+
+"Yeah, you need old Jake. You gotta have him. You think you just tell
+these people--they should do anything you want. Oh sure. That lasts for
+a while, maybe, but they get tired. Just like on Konelree, remember?
+And what do you do when a whole mob moves in on you? Eh? What do you
+do? You ain't got the moxie to handle no mobs, remember?
+
+"But old Jake, he thinks of things, and we both get along real good.
+Yeah, Danny-boy, you need old Jake." He glanced down at his weapon,
+then waved it from side to side.
+
+"But you know something else? Old Jake, he don't need you so much. Oh,
+sure, it's nice here. I like it real good. But I got along real nice
+for a long time before I picked you up, you see what I mean. You didn't
+do no good at all. Talent, you got. But brains? No, them they didn't
+give you. And they didn't give you much guts, either, Danny-boy. Them,
+I got.
+
+"And you know something else, Danny-boy? I got all kinds evidence. You
+done some pretty bad things here, remember?" He smiled, exposing yellow
+teeth.
+
+"Real bad things, they wouldn't like them at all. And I can prove all
+them things. Me, I ain't got no responsibility. I'm just a poor, little
+old guy you keep around for laughs, remember?" He chuckled.
+
+"You tell them to take me out and shoot me? I should laugh. You reach
+for that button. Go ahead. Stick your finger out. Then this thing here,
+it sings you a little song. And I go get some papers I got somewhere
+around here. And I go get some recordings. And maybe a few pictures.
+And then Old Jake's a public hero. And he takes a lot of money and goes
+away from here, he should spend his old age some place where he likes
+it better." He waved the weapon again.
+
+"Still want to play?"
+
+Stern's face was bloodless. He dropped into his chair, then put his
+head in his hands.
+
+"I'm sorry, Jake," he said. "Sorry. I guess I'm just a little tired
+right now. Forget it, will you?"
+
+"Sure, Danny-boy. Sure. We forget all about it. Now suppose we quit for
+the night, eh? Then in the morning, we get this Masterson fellow in
+here. And you find out from him just who he is and why he comes here.
+And you can let him tell us what he's been doing and who he's been
+working with, eh?" Gorham smiled and stuck the weapon back in his
+sleeve.
+
+"We ain't doing so bad," he went on. "We ain't doing bad at all." He
+reached out to stir the papers on Stern's desk with a forefinger.
+
+"These people up at Riandar, they don't do so good maybe on that Waern
+kid. But they don't do so bad all the time. They get this Masterson,
+see? Right away, they're on him, soon as this guy Rayson gets himself
+killed off."
+
+Stern nodded. "Yes," he admitted, "at least, they did have the sense to
+pick up Masterson--after he'd done plenty of damage. They were pretty
+slow. And they missed the Michaels boy entirely. So now, the Waern boy
+is out of easy reach." He frowned.
+
+"We had things set up for an elimination on him, you know."
+
+Gorham wagged his head. "Makes very little. Him, we can get. Him, they
+take care of in a couple days. Same operation, they should just move it
+a few miles, eh? Your boy with all them buttons, he takes care of that,
+see?" He grinned.
+
+"And that takes care of this Michaels kid, too." Again, he poked at the
+papers.
+
+"And here, we got another report. This young Michaels' father, he talks
+to this guy Masterson on the phone. You see that? And right away, he
+heads for the mountains. Maybe he wants to talk to the hill people,
+eh?" His grin became wider.
+
+"But somebody at Riandar, he gets a rush of brains to the head, see?
+And the border patrol, they challenge this old guy, you get it? Just a
+routine check, see, but the old guy, he don't get the word so quick.
+
+"So they don't take no chances up there. They knock him down in some
+canyon up there." He shrugged.
+
+"So all this leaves this Masterson, you could talk to him, maybe he
+sings us some nice music." He turned away.
+
+"I stay around, back at my desk. Maybe I should think of a question or
+two while we talk, the three of us, eh?"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+The royal gold and blue receded from the screen and Merle Boyce's face
+looked out at his audience.
+
+"This," he said shortly, "is the second day of the hunt for the Wells
+gang." He came out from behind his desk, his piercing eyes intent.
+
+"For the past full day, this group of robbers have made their way
+toward the west. It is thought they hope to join rebellious hill tribes
+somewhere in the Morek region." He paused.
+
+"Late yesterday afternoon," he continued, "these four men burned their
+way through a road block near Riandar. And despite reinforced blocks
+and stringent sky checks, they are still at large. All subjects of the
+realm are urgently requested to notify the authorities of any
+suspicious strangers."
+
+He faded from the screen, to be replaced by the figures of four men.
+
+"In co-operation with the Enforcement Corps," his voice continued, "we
+are showing pictures of the fugitives. We see here, Howard Wells, Merla
+Koer, Dowla Wodl, and Jake Milton." The voice stopped for a moment,
+then continued.
+
+"These men are regarded as extremely dangerous. Subjects are urged to
+make no effort to approach them personally. Notify the authorities
+immediately if they are seen."
+
+Don reached to the switch and snapped the receiver off.
+
+"I don't like it," he said slowly. "I don't like any part of it."
+
+"Think we might have visitors?" Pete looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+Don nodded. "It could be just a build-up," he said. "Did you get that
+thrust about the tribes?"
+
+Jasu Waern cleared his throat. "You mean those four are perhaps----"
+
+"I doubt if those four ever lived," Don told him. "At least not with
+those names. If we have visitors, they'll be more official--and a lot
+more dangerous." He paused.
+
+"Wish Dad had come back. I'd like to get you off to the hills. Not so
+comfortable, perhaps, but it would be safer." He looked at the ceiling.
+
+"Of course, with all those fliers chasing around right now," he added,
+"it might be complicated."
+
+Pete looked at him curiously. "One thing I can't figure, Don," he
+remarked. "Why didn't you head right on into the hills from Riandar?"
+
+Don spread his hands. "Intended to, hang it," he said. "They loused me
+up. Remember the dipsy-doodle I turned in that box canyon?"
+
+"Think I'd forget?" Pete grinned. "Nearly got a busted head out of that
+one."
+
+"Yeah. Well, I'd planned to jump the ridge and go on over to a clan
+village I know. We nearly caught it right there."
+
+"We did?"
+
+"Uh, huh. Some border patrol ship had a ripper. Lucky he got
+over-anxious. He cut loose out of effective range and shook us up. That
+gave me the news and I ducked for cover and streaked for home before he
+could get to us for a better shot."
+
+"And now, you think perhaps they are trying to hunt us down as they did
+my brother?" Jasu Waern shook his head. "But this--it would be
+impossible to represent us as...."
+
+Don tilted his head. "Nothing impossible about it--if they know where
+we are." He looked around the room.
+
+"And it looks as though they do. Someone probably spotted my flier when
+I landed in your courtyard."
+
+Pete looked at him unhappily. "Maybe we moved right into his hands.
+Maybe we're better targets here than we were in the city."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Don moved his head from side to side decisively. "Never happen. This
+mythical Wells gang could have been holed up in the city, too, you
+know. And there, you'd have no warning. You'd have no defense and
+nowhere to go. This isn't some little summer cottage, you know. We can
+give them a bad time."
+
+Jasu Waern shook his head sadly. "Yes," he admitted, "we can, as you
+say, give them a bad time. But a flash or two from one of their
+inductors will destroy this house just as surely as it did my brother's
+cottage."
+
+"Maybe." Don smiled. "I've got some ideas on that, too. But there's
+more to this house than you see from outside. This place was built
+during the border wars, you know. We've got a place to duck to."
+
+Pete stood up. "What's that?"
+
+"There's a basement under this house. Shelters down there. Even total
+inductor destruction of the house wouldn't hurt anyone down there." Don
+pointed with a thumb.
+
+"Got entry locks right out in the court."
+
+"But their clean-up crews. Where would you hide from them?"
+
+Don shook his head, smiling. "They won't do too much searching," he
+said calmly. "If they actually do attack this place, they'll get some
+genuine resistance. And there'll be a Federation patrol out here right
+after the shooting, to investigate the destruction of a Galactic
+Citizen's property."
+
+His smile broadened. "At least, that'll be a good excuse. You see, Mr.
+Masterson's alerted people at the Commissioner's office. They know
+who's here--or will, when the shooting starts."
+
+"But with this build-up, it will seem like an ordinary hunt for a
+criminal gang." Pete shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"No, I don't think so." Don walked over to the heavy door leading to
+the range.
+
+"Better get some of the weapons up here now, though. We'll have to give
+them a little show."
+
+Pete looked at him curiously.
+
+"Why bother?" he asked. "Why can't we just duck into the shelter and
+let 'em blast? Then we could wait for the patrol."
+
+Don shook his head.
+
+"The type of resistance offered will be a tip-off to the Guard," he
+said. "I'm going to use an unusual type of weapon. Besides, Stern's
+people have detectors. Remember those? There's got to be life force in
+detector range, or they'll assume we've either deserted the place or
+found refuge below ground. Then they would come in for sure. And they'd
+really search the place." He smiled grimly.
+
+"I'd rather take my chances on getting shelter from a blast after they
+commit themselves than take on a batch of those monkeys in a
+hand-to-hand down in the basement." His smile faded.
+
+"It'll be touch and go, at that. The force of an inductor blast is
+nothing to joke about. We can roll into the ledges and hope, but we
+still might get singed a little." He sighed and spread his hands.
+
+"Well, I asked for work. Guess I've got it. Sorry you may get scorched
+around the edges, but----"
+
+Pete looked at the heavy wall on the other side of the outer court.
+
+"At least, we've got a better chance than Uncle Harle had. They
+probably tied him up. And no matter----" He shrugged.
+
+"All right, Don, let's get those weapons."
+
+[Illustration: Illustrated by van Dongen]
+
+"Well, here they come." Don Michaels looked out of a weapons embrasure.
+
+From the port, the advancing men were far more visible than they
+intended to be. One after another, they crawled and dashed through the
+grass, their weapons held before them. They concealed themselves from
+the house as best they could behind hummocks and clumps of grass. Then,
+weapons probing toward the house, they waited.
+
+A couple of hundred meters from the house, a weapons carrier purred
+into position, wheeled to face the house, and stopped, the muted roar
+of its motor dying to a faint rumble.
+
+Closer to the house, there was a hollow in the earth, a scar from some
+long-forgotten skirmish. Over the years, rain and wind had worked on
+it, softening its once harsh outlines. Grass had grown in, to further
+mask the crater, till now it was a mere smooth depression in the
+ground. From the edge of this depression, rose the slender rod of a
+speaker, a small, directional loud-speaker blossoming from it.
+
+Michaels grinned and turned aside for an instant.
+
+"Just like the big broadcasts, Pete," he remarked. "Feel important?
+You're going to have a big audience."
+
+"Kind of like it better if I were making a personal appearance. Be a
+lot nicer if I could talk to them--and they could see my face."
+
+"They can't let you do that," Don grinned. "You don't look enough like
+any of those guys they're supposed to be hunting. Spoil the whole
+effect that way."
+
+Pete looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+"You know, they always tell people to throw their weapons out and come
+out with their hands in the air. What would happen if someone took 'em
+up on it--like the wrong someone--like me, for instance?"
+
+"Good question," Don told him. "Saw a guy come out in one broadcast.
+Someone vaporized him. No way of telling which direction the spray came
+from, of course. No tracer on the beam." He shrugged.
+
+"Somehow, I don't think it would lead to a long and happy life."
+
+"No." Pete nodded. "I didn't suppose it would." He looked at the long
+target rifle in Don's hands.
+
+"You could have gotten several of them with that, while they were
+getting into position, couldn't you?"
+
+"Suppose so," Don nodded. "But I'm saving it for a while. Got an idea,
+but it's a one-shot and I'll have to wait before I try it." He paused
+as a head appeared close to the base of the loud-speaker stand.
+
+"Well, the show's about to start," he added quietly. "Here's the man
+with the serenade."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The speaker disintegrated in blazing fury and Pete turned away from the
+glare, to look back at the house.
+
+"Took your father years to get this place built the way he wanted it,"
+he remarked. "Shame you're going to have to lose it this way." He
+glanced over at his companion.
+
+Don was stretched out in the prone position, his sling tight on his
+arm, the rifle extended.
+
+"Yeah," he said. "But maybe we won't lose it--not just yet."
+
+He rolled, forcing his elbow further under the rifle.
+
+"Look, Pete, I think I'll wait till these guys are ready for the last
+act, but you better go ahead and take cover. They've committed
+themselves now. I'll duck later, if I have to, but I've got an idea
+that just might work out."
+
+He laid his cheek against the stock, concentrating on his sights. The
+barrel moved up and down with his breathing, then stopped.
+
+Pete examined him curiously, then looked out of his port.
+
+The projector barrel was moving, to center its lens on target. As Pete
+watched, the lens barrel swung till he could see the glint of light on
+the outer focusing circles. As the rack with its charges started to
+face him, he moved back, preparing to roll into the narrow slit beneath
+the wall.
+
+Now, the lens was pointing directly toward him, its iris beginning to
+widen. He slid off the ledge.
+
+There was a sudden, snapping explosion near him. He looked up, to see
+the lens system disintegrate. The projector suddenly became a blue
+glare.
+
+Pete watched as the tiny figures of the crew members flew back from
+their fiercely glowing weapon.
+
+Abruptly, he realized he was in an exposed position. He ducked
+sideways, away from the opening, and covered his face.
+
+There was a rumbling multiple explosion. Blinding light reflected from
+the walls of the house. A few tiles crashed to the court. Pete caught
+his breath again and risked an upward glance.
+
+A tall pillar of flame had grown from the field outside. For long
+moments, it stood motionless, searching for a limit to the sky. Then it
+darkened. Smoke drifted toward the ranch house and bits of wreckage
+rained down upon house and field alike. Little puffs of smoke appeared
+in the sky, close by the still rising cloud.
+
+"Pinwheel," said Don calmly. "That's one Dad couldn't beat if he tried.
+Wish he'd been around to see it." Suddenly, his forced calm deserted
+him.
+
+"Oh, boy," he yelled happily. "Like shooting snakes in a pit." He
+shoved his rifle back through the port.
+
+"Try to wreck our house, will you, you bums!"
+
+A figure wobbled up from the field, weapon weaving unsteadily toward
+the wall. The rifle snapped viciously and the figure melted back into
+the ground.
+
+There was another motion and a sudden spurt of dust followed
+immediately after the sound of a shot. The motion ceased.
+
+The sound of the click of the rifle action was loud against the silence
+of the scene.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+No more figures moved. Bright flames were growing--working toward one
+another, to form a widening lake of flame in the grass. Don sighed and
+started pulling the sling from his arm. Pete stood up, looking at him.
+
+"I'm a little confused," he said slowly. "I thought that weapon of
+yours merely threw a solid missile. The way you described it, I thought
+it was just ... well, something like a long-range throwing sling."
+
+He looked out the port again, then pointed.
+
+"But that weapons carrier was shielded. I didn't think you could touch
+one of those with anything but another inductor."
+
+Don leaned the rifle against the wall.
+
+"That's the way they figured it, too," he remarked. "But they forgot
+something.
+
+"You see, rifles have been obsolete for so long everybody's forgotten
+their capabilities. Everybody, that is, except a few crazy hobbyists.
+And no one ever thinks in terms of long-range missile throwers."
+
+"So?"
+
+"So, I've been watching these clay pigeon shoots of theirs for a long
+time. They've had a lot of them on broadcasts, you know. And I noticed
+they always operate the same way. Actually ... well, you saw them.
+They're not too careful." He smiled.
+
+"Remember you remarked that I could have potted a few of them while
+they were getting into position? Only reason I didn't was that I didn't
+want to give them a warning." He shoved his hands in his pockets.
+
+"You see, they know they're going to use that projector. The rigged
+speaker just makes it look good--as though the blast were necessary and
+unavoidable. That way, the public is convinced that the whole affair is
+a heroic battle against evil. See what I mean?
+
+"So, they have everything all set up. Safeties are off. Activators are
+hot. Everything's lined up so they can look sharp. Snappy operation."
+
+He shook his head with a smile. "But actually, they're a little
+overconfident. Their field screen will stop any heat ray. No khroal
+charge can get through--it'd get damped. The screen will ground out a
+Nerne-Herzfeld couple, and no bunch of fugitives is going to be lugging
+an inductor around with them. So there can't be any counter-battery
+fire. Result? The projector crew feels perfectly safe."
+
+His smile widened. "But that isn't enough. They want to be comfortable,
+too. It's hot inside a deflector screen and they'd get their uniforms
+all sweaty and out of press. Besides, the screen draws a lot of power
+and they'd have to rev up their motor. The noise would make it rough
+for the sound crew. Catch?"
+
+Pete moved his head. "I begin to get the idea," he said. "The inductors
+are real touchy when they're armed. They can arc over and flare back in
+a real hurry if things get in their fields. That's why the safety
+lens--and the iris."
+
+"Sure." Don nodded. "Sure it is. And it keeps the beam tube nice and
+unobstructed. Dry, too. As I said, they're pretty safe. Just like
+pigeon hunters." He looked out at the field.
+
+"Sort of funny how things can add up," he added. "Here's a guy who
+makes all sorts of plans. He's got everything figured out and tied up
+with a ribbon. He's got the whole Galactic Federation standing around,
+just watching. Not a thing they can do to him legally. And he's got all
+Oredan in his pocket--all but one family and a few odd yokels he
+doesn't even worry about. So he's about to fix the family.
+
+"Then someone else starts planning. And some little guy goes and slips
+a little chunk of fast moving lead down a lens barrel that nobody even
+thought of protecting. And everything goes wrong. All kinds of things
+happen. Like investigating patrols ordered in by the Stellar Guard. And
+conclaves." He grinned and looked at the sky to the west.
+
+"So," he added, "a few little things add up. One family. One little
+piece of lead. One house that didn't get blown up. One flight of----"
+He let his voice trail off and looked at his watch.
+
+"Wonder where those patrol ships are. They should be in plain sight by
+this time, diving down the eastern slope."
+
+He narrowed his eyes, searching the empty western sky.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Pete looked around the courtyard. Broken tiles littered the ground.
+Here and there, lay bricks and bits of mortar. Some freak of backblast
+had torn a shutter off the house and it lay brokenly a few feet from
+him. He looked back toward the house.
+
+One corner of the roof had been shattered and he could see broken roof
+beams. A cornice from the wall had crashed into the house front and
+bits of it lay strewn through a gaping hole in the living room wall.
+Stucco littered the narrow border of shrubbery around the house,
+whitening the green of the leaves.
+
+And a twisted bit of metal caught his attention. Obviously, it was part
+of a flier. He shook his head and looked at the sky over the western
+mountains.
+
+"Quite a blast," he said. "Look, Don, are you sure anything's coming to
+back us up? A couple more of these and we'll be standing in an open
+field."
+
+Michaels reached up to stroke his face. "Right now, I'm not too sure
+about anything," he admitted. "Except that next time they try to comb
+us over, they'll take a few less chances." He frowned.
+
+"Mr. Masterson was pretty certain about things, but----"
+
+He spun around and walked toward the flier port.
+
+"You know, I think we'd better play it safe," he went on. "Right now,
+we've got clear air. That explosion put everything around here on the
+ground, but hard. But that won't last. Stern's people will be flocking
+around here in a few minutes to see what went on. We better not be
+around when they arrive. Go get your father."
+
+He pulled the flier door open.
+
+"I'll have this thing warmed and ready to flit by the time you get back
+up here. Make it fast, will you?"
+
+Pete had already dived down an escape slot. As Don started through his
+pre-flight routine, he reappeared. Jasu Waern followed him.
+
+"What happened?" The older man looked around the littered courtyard,
+then at the flier which Don had pushed out of its cover. His eyes
+widened.
+
+"But I thought they would use an inductor."
+
+"They tried," Don told him. "Come on. Get in." He looked anxiously at
+his instrument panel.
+
+"Little risky," he muttered, "taking off so fast. Synchs and generators
+haven't had time to stabilize. But it beats letting them get in range
+for some more target practice."
+
+He eased a lever toward him and watched the pointers on a dial as the
+flier lifted. The red needle started to oscillate and he reached
+quickly to adjust a knob. The oscillation stopped. He looked overside.
+
+"Hm-m-m," he said, "so far, so good. Well, let's have at it."
+
+He reached out and pulled a handle toward him, watching the needles.
+They remained steady and he nodded and pulled another control toward
+him, then gripped the control wheel.
+
+The flier leaped into the air and surged toward the mountains.
+
+Don sighed and made a minute adjustment on the synchro knob.
+
+"Well, we haven't flipped yet," he said. "We'll stay on deck all the
+way. Not such a good target that way. Take a look back there, Pete. See
+anything in the air to the east?"
+
+"Yeah." Pete had been looking back. "There's plenty back there. And
+they're in a hurry."
+
+Don jerked his head around, then glanced at the mountains before them.
+
+"So are we. They built this thing to win races, not lose them. Hope
+they knew what they were doing." He pulled a panel lever all the way
+back and the flier surged forward, pressing them back into their seats.
+
+"Hang on," he said. "Some of these corners are going to be tight."
+
+The ship swung into a narrow valley between two hills, bucking and
+twisting as Don worked the control back and forth. As a high cliff
+loomed up in front of them, he pulled the flier up, then around in a
+screaming turn. A second later, they almost touched the tips of trees
+as they swung around the shoulder of a steep hill. The flier dropped
+abruptly, seeking the floor of a gorge, then swung violently as it
+followed a swift flowing stream.
+
+Don guided it into a side gorge, then suddenly pulled up, to jump
+through a notch in the surrounding hills. For an instant, the flier
+paused, hovering in the air over a deep, wide valley, then it dropped
+like a stooping falcon, sweeping sideways at the end of its drop, to
+come to rest under an overhanging rock formation. The pilot snapped off
+switches and leaned back.
+
+"We've got a small-sized walk ahead of us," he said, "but it's through
+some pretty dense growth and we'll be invisible from the air." He
+grinned.
+
+"The way I dove into that first canyon, anyone with detectors on me
+would assume I was heading for the Doer--if he knew the country fairly
+well. Hope that's the way they know it--just about that well."
+
+He climbed out of the ship, holding the door open.
+
+"Come on, Pete," he ordered, "give me a hand and we'll shove this thing
+back in the cave so it won't be too easy to spot."
+
+Jasu Waern climbed out after his son.
+
+"I shall help, too," he said resignedly. "Which of the clans do we
+join?"
+
+Don put a shoulder against the side of the flier. "Kor-en," he said. "I
+know them pretty well. Matter of fact, the Korenthal wanted to adopt me
+at one time. Dad talked him out of it."
+
+Waern nodded. "The Kor-en are known to us," he murmured. "Possibly----"
+He added his weight to the pressure on the flier's side.
+
+They pushed the machine far back into the cavern under the rock, then
+camouflaged its smooth lines with brush and rubble. Finally, they
+walked over the rough ground to a nearby thicket. Don paused, looking
+up. Then he pointed.
+
+"There they are," he said, "in a search pattern. Guess they got a
+detector flash on us when we jumped the ridge." He shrugged. "Well,
+they've got a tough hunt now. We'll detour through that line of trees
+to keep out of the open."
+
+He jerked his head, to point.
+
+"There's a narrow break in the cliffs way over there. When we get
+through that, we'll come into Korelanni."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Halfway through the narrow crevice, Don stopped and turned aside, to
+enter a narrow alcove that had been carved out of the rock. Hanging
+inside was a long tube of wood. Don rubbed his hands vigorously on the
+moss which grew on the rocks, then stroked the tube.
+
+A tone resonated from the chamber, growing louder as Don continued to
+stroke the tube. After a few seconds, an answering note of different
+pitch could be heard. Don nodded and stepped back into the path.
+
+"It's all right," he said. "They'll meet us at the head of the path."
+He smiled.
+
+"This way, we don't have someone dropping rocks on our heads."
+
+Pete looked up at the towering cliffs which almost joined overhead.
+
+"You mean they've got guards up there?"
+
+"Always," Don told him. "Day and night. Right now, they're at peace
+with everybody, but they never let their guard down. We'll have a
+reception committee waiting for us." He started striding up the steep
+path.
+
+At the head of the chasm, five men waited for them. In their hands,
+they held sticks about two feet long. At the end of each stick was a
+thong, with a flexible leather pad which could hold a fair sized stone.
+Don bowed in the direction of one of the group.
+
+"I know you, Korendwar," he said.
+
+The other bowed. "Michaels," he said. "I know you. And these?"
+
+Don looked at him, his thoughts going into overdrive. The form of
+address was all wrong. Always before, he had been Donald, of the clan
+Michaels--they abbreviated it to Michaelsdon. But what had gone wrong
+now?
+
+He tensed a little, then relaxed. At least, it was a friendly greeting.
+One does not "know" an enemy. He extended a hand toward Jasu Waern.
+
+"I bring the Waerntal, Jasu. And his son, Waernpeto," he said.
+
+The other nodded. "The men of Kor-en know the Waernu," he said
+noncommitally. "You want dealings with the Korental?"
+
+Don nodded. "The Waerntal would discuss clan affairs with the
+Korental." he said. "I but serve as guide."
+
+"It is well. You and this clansman may rest by the wells." Korendwar
+turned toward Jasu Waern, gesturing with his sling.
+
+"I will conduct you to the Korental, your honor."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Pete leaned against a mossy bank and watched one of the village women
+as she raised a clay pot from a well.
+
+"Tell me, Don, why did you push my father forward to consult with the
+Korental? Why didn't you go ahead and deal with him yourself? You said
+you knew him. Father doesn't."
+
+"That's just the point," smiled Don. "I do know him. And I know his
+people, and his way of thinking." He waved a hand to indicate the
+entire collection of huts.
+
+"These people are about as formal as you can get, when business is at
+hand. Did you notice the way I talked to Korendwar? Migosh, I've hunted
+with that guy, rolled around in the dirt with him when we were kids,
+know him about as well as you'd know a brother. But he was on guard.
+And, friend, you don't get informal with a clansman when he's on guard.
+
+"This is just like a little nation, and the Korental is just as surely
+a ruler as any king of a huge country," he went on. "Even more so than
+most."
+
+He fixed his eyes on the council hut, across the narrow end of the
+valley.
+
+"Everyone in his clan is his child--symbolically, at least. He tells
+them what to do. He tells them what to plant and when--and how much. He
+tells them when to hunt, and where. Governs their lives down to some
+pretty fine points. I mean, he's as absolute as an absolute monarch can
+get.
+
+"And if you want to get along with an absolute monarch, you treat him
+on his terms." He glanced at his companion.
+
+"Oh, I don't mean this guy's a tyrant or despot," he added quickly.
+"These people are pretty proud. They wouldn't like a dictator--as such.
+But the Korental doesn't need force to govern his people. They do
+things his way because ... well, it's a matter of tradition. It's the
+only honorable way to do things. See what I mean?"
+
+Pete shook his head doubtfully and Don frowned.
+
+"Pete, your family was originally a mountain clan. I should think you'd
+know these customs better than I do."
+
+Again, Pete shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said slowly, "but I don't.
+You see, my father and my uncle thought it would be better if I learned
+the customs and culture of your people and of the plainsmen. And they
+thought I should be familiar with the ways of the great cities."
+
+He looked across the village at the great tree which shaded the council
+hut.
+
+"You see," he continued, "my great uncle was king. And he had no
+children. He was getting old and it was agreed that if he died
+childless, his queen would then adopt me. And, of course, I would then
+be head of the Onaru, and king of Oredan." He smiled wanly.
+
+"The agreement was not made public, of course. And the queen no longer
+lives. But signatures and agreement are recorded at Oreladar. And they
+appear in the Book of the Waernu, against my name. References in the
+Book of the Waernu are so arranged that I may be quickly removed, to be
+placed in an already prepared place in the Book of the Onaru, if the
+time should come. This and the fact that my mother was the daughter of
+a brother of the king, places me in the line of kings of Oredan." He
+shrugged.
+
+"Especially since the king did, in fact, die childless.
+
+"And this, in my father's eyes, meant that I should know of the plains,
+of the cities, and of the galactics, since there, he said, lies the
+power and wealth of the present day Oredan."
+
+Don shrugged. "Wealth, maybe," he said quietly. "I'm not so sure about
+the power. The pressure of History is a very real thing, and I seem to
+remember noticing that every time some king has gotten into a jam with
+one of the other kingdoms or with his own nobles, he's had to raise the
+clans. And there have been times when that wasn't easy."
+
+Pete nodded. "I know. The Onaru took the throne two hundred years ago,
+simply because the clans withheld support from the Chalenu--the Old
+Line."
+
+"Yeah." Don picked idly at the bark of a tree. "And Stern's been trying
+to get the clans into hot water ever since he took over."
+
+Pete looked at him for a moment, then looked about the village.
+
+There was no orderly arrangement of houses, as could be found in town.
+Wherever someone had found a suitable spot, there he had embedded his
+poles. And there, he had erected walls, daubed them with clay from the
+nearby stream, and formed long, limber wands from the thickets into
+arched roofs, to be covered with long grass from the valley. There
+were isolated houses, and there were tight little groups of houses.
+Possibly, Pete thought, family groups.
+
+No streets existed here, though generations of sandaled feet had beaten
+the ground into winding paths which led from houses to wells, and from
+wells to fields, and to the surrounding forest.
+
+And there was no litter, as could be found in any city. No fallen twig
+or leaf was allowed to remain on the ground of the village. Grass and
+moss grew on unused ground and on hillsides, but before each hut, the
+growth gave way to the forecourt and the small garden.
+
+Here and there, a bank by a path had been reinforced with clay cemented
+stones and over these grew the moss, to soften the hard outlines of the
+works of man. Here and there, a small, neat pile of material for
+building lay, to remind the onlooker that this was a still growing
+community. Pete leaned back.
+
+"It's quite a bit different from the plains," he said, "and not as I
+thought it would be. I always thought the hillmen were wild and
+uncultured." He turned toward Don.
+
+"But you still haven't really answered my question. Why is it my father
+has to talk to the Korental--alone?"
+
+Don lifted a shoulder. "Simple enough," he said. "Your father is the
+head of your branch of the family right now. It's a pretty small clan
+branch--just the two of you, but he's the clan head--the Waerntal.
+Right?"
+
+"I suppose so. Yes." Pete thought a moment. "Actually, I guess he's tal
+over more than just the two of us. We are the senior line of the
+family."
+
+"Well, then. This is clan business. Your father wants to advance a
+member of his clan as a claimant for the throne of Oredan. He needs the
+support of other clans to do this. And this is important clan business.
+See?"
+
+Pete rubbed at an ear. "I begin to get the idea, I guess, but it just
+doesn't make too much sense. He could have you speak for him. Or I
+could plead my own case, for that matter, couldn't I?"
+
+"Makes all kinds of sense." Don shook his head. "Look, you can't talk
+to the Korental--not on even terms--not now. You're just a clansman. If
+he accepts you as king-to-be, then you'll be a sort of super clan head.
+Then you'll be able to discuss policy with him. But even then, only as
+an equal--never as a superior. He actually acknowledges no superior."
+He pointed to himself, pausing.
+
+"Me? Good grief, I'm not even in this. I'm just a hired hand--not even
+a member of your clan. Before I could open my mouth, I'd have to be
+adopted into your clan and designated as a clan councilor. Even then,
+the tal would have to open the discussion.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Oh, I can talk to the Korental as an individual who wants to get help
+from some of his people for a hunt, sure. And we can then arrange an
+exchange of goods. That's between him and me. But if I tried to talk to
+him on this affair, he'd throw me out of the village." He rubbed his
+cheek thoughtfully.
+
+"And, come to think of it, if he thought you'd asked me to intervene,
+after he'd tossed me out, he'd probably feed you to the Choyneu. That,
+he'd regard as a selling of honor."
+
+Pete looked at him quizzically. "I can just see him--or any other
+person, monarch or no--throwing you anywhere you didn't want to go. I'd
+say the throwing would be the other way."
+
+Don laughed softly. "Oh, that." He shook his head. "Well, let's just
+say I don't think I'd care to try it out on a whole clan at once.
+Things might get a little complicated."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+A short, heavily muscled man came out of the council hut. In his hands,
+he held his slender sling-stick. He paused as he got to the door, then
+shook out the thong. For a moment, he stood, glancing across the end of
+the valley, then he wound the thong about the stick, securing it at the
+end with a half-hitch.
+
+Again, he looked in the direction of Don and Pete. Then he held up the
+stick and beckoned to them.
+
+Don pushed himself away from the bank.
+
+"Well," he said, "here we go. They've come to some sort of a decision."
+
+They walked through the door of the hut, stopping as they came inside.
+An old man sat on a hide-covered stool, facing the entrance. Near him
+stood Jasu Waern. The old man got to his feet.
+
+"Waernpeto?" he asked.
+
+Pete stepped forward and bowed. "I am Peto of the clan Waern," he said.
+
+"It is good." The Korental nodded briefly, then looked at Don.
+
+"And Michaels. I know you," he added.
+
+Don looked at him curiously. There was that odd form of address again.
+Had he suddenly come to be regarded as clanless? What was this? He
+bowed.
+
+"I know you, Korental," he said formally.
+
+The old man before him nodded.
+
+"We are not now sure how to address you," he explained. "Your father
+may yet be alive, so we cannot regard you as clan head. But as your
+father has not been found you may, therefore, be clan head in fact. The
+men of clan Mal-ka have joined us in searching the gorge of the Gharu,
+where his flier was shot down. Thus far, nothing has been found. It is
+a long gorge, and deep."
+
+"Dad?" Don blinked. "Shot down?"
+
+The Korental nodded. "Two days since," he said. "A flier of the Royal
+Guard fired upon him and his flier weaved and dropped into the gorge.
+No man saw its landing place." He paused thoughtfully.
+
+"Nor were there flames."
+
+Don glanced about the hut. It was the same place he had come to
+many times before, when he wanted to get beaters. It was familiar.
+And yet it was now a place of strangeness. Suddenly, he felt
+rootless--disassociated from people. He struggled to regain his
+poise and retain the formal manner expected of him. He managed a
+bow of acknowledgment.
+
+"I thank the Korental for this information," he said. "I beg permission
+to await further word under his protection."
+
+Somehow, he couldn't imagine anyone succeeding in shooting his father
+out of the sky. Kent Michaels had been one of the hottest fighter men
+in the guard. And even if he hadn't been able to get away from the guy,
+he'd have taken him down with him. How...? He jerked his attention to
+the Korental.
+
+The old man had inclined his head. "My clan is yours during this time
+of trouble," he was saying. He looked toward Pete.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+"And you are he who would be King of the Oredanu?"
+
+Pete nodded. "I am."
+
+"I see. Your father tells me of certain agreements made many years ago.
+He tells me of relationships, and of your possible adoption into
+another clan. These things are true?"
+
+Again Pete nodded. "These things are true."
+
+The old man considered him for a few seconds.
+
+"Among the men of the hills," he said, "the simple word of a man may be
+accepted. For only a clanless one would think of speaking other than
+the truth. But I am told the men of the low countries have no such
+faith. They require writings, and the speech of many witnesses. This is
+also true?"
+
+The question was obviously rhetorical. Pete smiled ruefully, but said
+nothing.
+
+The Korental allowed his lips to curl in a half smile.
+
+"These customs of the plainsmen are not unknown to me," he said. "Men
+of my clan have gone to the low country and have dealt with the men of
+the cities. Even now, members of the Kor-en live in the cities. But on
+the clan days, they return to their home, here in the hills." He looked
+down at the matting on the floor.
+
+"Your father mentions a clan book," he continued. "Do you have this
+with you?"
+
+Pete looked at him, then at his father. His expression was suddenly
+blank.
+
+Jasu Waern stepped forward. "This book is in a safe place," he said,
+"in Riandar."
+
+Don closed his eyes for an instant. "Oh, Brother," he told himself,
+"the lights just went out! I'll bet they're tearing that house up,
+stone by stone, about now."
+
+The Korental nodded slowly. "How safe?"
+
+"Why," Jasu was thoughtful. "Why, the hiding place is known only to
+me--and to my son." He bent his head, then looked up, smiling
+confidently. "No, it could never be discovered by an outsider."
+
+"The book must be produced," the Korental told him. He resumed his seat
+on the stool and folded his hands over a short staff.
+
+"We of the clans would be happy to support a legitimate claimant to the
+throne of Oredan. We are not happy with the rule of this outlander who
+has forced himself into power. But we also recognize the rules and the
+customs of the nobles of the land, who must have proof of everything
+before they will act. We are not strangers to the conclave, you must
+remember. And we are familiar with the power of the outlander." He
+looked at Don.
+
+"Tell me," he said, "do you have an interest in this matter?"
+
+Don nodded. "I am not of the clan Waern," he said carefully. "But my
+interests have become tied with theirs. Should the Waernu fail, my
+father's lands would be lost. And the climate of this land would become
+unhealthy for me--as well as for my father, if he still lives."
+
+"Yes." The Korental regarded him. "I can understand that. We are not as
+uncivilized as many think us to be. We watched the broadcast of an
+attack upon your house." He tilted his head.
+
+"Tell me," he added. "The broadcast ended rather suddenly. The
+announcer mentioned technical difficulties. Can you explain this?"
+
+Don relaxed. The formal session was over for a while.
+
+"I took a shot at them," he said, "with a Ghar rifle."
+
+"Ha! They do have a weak spot, then. We'll discuss this later." The old
+man looked at Jasu Waern.
+
+"Let us suppose that this young man should ask to be adopted into your
+clan. What would your answer be?"
+
+Waern looked confused. "Why---- But he's been giving us----"
+
+The Korental chuckled. "I know. He has some of those characteristics
+attributed by legend to clan talu, and to them only." He bent his head
+for a moment.
+
+"Suppose I put it this way. When the clans and tribes meet for full
+consideration of your request for support, you will need strong
+council. And the councilor who presents your cause must be a member of
+your clan, of course. He must speak for you, the head of the Waernu."
+
+Waern looked at him. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "And here, we may
+find strong council." He looked across at Don.
+
+"You would consider this?"
+
+Don paused. This, he thought, was getting serious. It had been fine at
+first. He had just followed instructions from an experienced agent. And
+there had been quite a thrill at being in the middle of things. But
+somehow, everything was flying apart. All at once, he was on his own.
+
+And now--well, clan councilors were pretty responsible individuals.
+They were supposed to be the experts on law and custom. They were
+supposed to put things together--and keep them that way. He could
+remember daydreams he'd had once, of helping run a country. Some of
+them had been pretty dramatic. But--well, it was beginning to look like
+real trouble. If things went wrong, a councilor could get his neck on a
+block for sure.
+
+Then he smiled inwardly. So what of it? How could he get into any more
+trouble? He already had the entire Enforcement Corps screaming for his
+blood. He'd killed off a Royal Guard projector crew, an entire
+Enforcement crew, and a few odd news people. They didn't like him. But
+they wanted him. The only way out of this one would be straight ahead.
+He nodded.
+
+"Of course," he said simply.
+
+The Korental came to his feet and grabbed his staff. Beside his stool
+was a battered tone tube. He swung the staff at the dented wood and a
+deep tone followed the sharp crack.
+
+He wheeled upon the man who came through the door.
+
+"Tell the Korensahn to come up here," he ordered. "And have him bring
+five men with him. We have a clan adoption to witness."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Don flexed his back and hunched his shoulders a little to get the
+pack-board more comfortably settled. The darn things were heavy. He
+looked at the others, who walked along the road. Hang it, they seemed
+to swing along under their loads as though they were just taking a
+short walk before breakfast. He poked at the hard ground with his
+stick.
+
+How had he managed to haul himself into this one, anyway? Blasted thing
+had all seemed so logical, back there in Korelanni. He reviewed the
+steps.
+
+First, it had been essential that the safety and contents of the Book
+of the Waernu be determined. Without it, Pete's claim would be so vague
+as to be untenable. Especially before a conclave with the regent in
+active opposition.
+
+Second, the book would have to be placed in safekeeping where it could
+be immediately produced upon demand. He frowned. That was a tough one.
+So anyway----
+
+Then, there had come the question. Who was going to get this book and
+bring it back--or protect it? Pete was too valuable and too vulnerable.
+He was known, and if any of the police agencies got their hands on him
+... well, that would be all. So Pete was out.
+
+Jasu Waern? Don grinned to himself. "Skip it," he told himself. He
+poked at the ground again with the stick. It was getting hot. And he
+was thirsty.
+
+"Hope that gunk they used to monkey up my complexion doesn't sweat
+out," he told himself. "That would do it for sure."
+
+He glanced up at the sky. It was getting close to midday. Ahead, he
+could see a few men sitting at the side of the road, leaning back
+against their packs. He went forward a few more paces, then selected a
+comfortable looking bit of moss.
+
+So what had happened? A little guy named Donald Michaels had been
+disguised as a clanless mat maker. He leaned back against the pack.
+And, brother, had they given him a stock of mats to sell. This clansman
+in Riandar would be busy for a month, just unloading all these things
+from his stock.
+
+He thought of those daydreams he had once had. A king's councilor, he
+had imagined, was a highly important, greatly respected individual. He
+had dreamed of himself, dressed in the ornate formal robes he'd seen in
+pictures of the old nobility. He'd pictured himself exchanging urbane
+chatter with other beautifully turned out characters, who hung on his
+every word. He'd seen himself striding between low-bowing lines of
+assorted courtiers and soldiery, pausing now and then to tap at the
+pavement with his jeweled staff. He'd---- Hah!
+
+He looked at the dusty trail. He'd been striding, all right, but the
+field reeds didn't look too much like bowing lines of---- Yeah, and his
+staff didn't have too many jewels, either. No pavement, even, and this
+fool pack didn't feel much like a finely tailored robe of office. He
+shrugged.
+
+"This is no dream," he told himself. "You let one of Stern's people get
+suspicious, and you'll find out just how real things can get." He
+twisted around to get the package of food and the water bottle which
+dangled from the pack.
+
+Distastefully, he looked at the little packet of powder which was in
+the food package. He glanced around quickly, then dumped the powder
+into his mouth, quickly gulping water to wash it down.
+
+"Gaah!" he growled, "does it have to taste like the inside of an old
+shoe? Oh, well, it'll keep me nice and dark for the next thirty hours
+or so." He pulled a strip of dried meat from the package. Maybe this
+will help take the taste out.
+
+He sighed and worked his jaws on the leatherlike substance. It started
+to soften a little.
+
+Well, anyway, he knew how to get to the vault where the ancestral
+volumes of the Waernu were kept. And he knew just which volume to pick
+out. Only one small problem remained. How was he going to get into the
+house--and on into the little pond in the inner garden? He grinned as
+he thought of Pete's remark.
+
+"It'll be simple for you," he had said enviously. "All you have to do
+is tell any guard you meet to stand aside and forget he ever saw you.
+Then you go on down to the vault. Wish I had that ability of yours."
+
+"Sure," he told himself, "hang your clothes on yonder bush--and get
+right into the water. It's just a simple matter of diving down ten feet
+and pushing the right rock the right number of times--in the right
+directions. Nothing to it. And then you go through the pressure trap,
+and there you are. Simple!"
+
+And who was going to guard the pond while he was down there? Suppose he
+broke surface right in front of a flock of trigger-happy Enforcers? He
+sighed.
+
+"Oh, well," he told himself. "You asked for it. Now, you've got it.
+Have fun." He looked into the food package and selected a meal cake.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+At last, he dusted his fingers and leaned back lazily against his pack,
+looking into the clear sky. For a few minutes, he simply relaxed, his
+eyes fixed on the infinite distance, his mind a near blank.
+
+Other pack-laden men strode past him, intent on their destination. At
+last, a group swung by and the sound of their conversation brought Don
+out of his semitrance. Behind the group was another, who walked a
+little faster than the others, in an apparent effort to catch up. Don
+pushed himself up with the aid of his staff, drew a few deep breaths,
+and started pacing along behind him.
+
+Ahead, the group went around a curve in the path. The man ahead of Don
+cut over into the grass, still intent on catching up with his
+companions, who were not more than a few meters ahead. Don watched him
+casually.
+
+There was no use, he thought, in trying to keep up with this fellow or
+his companions. It was too hot. Besides, this was probably a clan group
+who would not welcome company--especially the company of one of no
+clan.
+
+He started to slow down to a normal pace, then his attention was caught
+by movement by a rock just ahead of the other. A small, greenish-brown
+body was vaguely outlined in the long grass nearly in the man's path.
+
+Don looked more closely. The animal was heavy-bodied, with rather short
+forelegs. Powerful hind legs were tucked under the body, twitching a
+little now. The forelegs pawed slightly at the grass and the flat, wide
+head probed out, extending toward the approaching man.
+
+"Hey!" yelled Don. "Look out. Gersal!" He started forward in a half
+run, his staff poised for a blow.
+
+The other jumped sideways but the furry body grazed his leg and spun,
+claws and teeth working furiously. The man looked down and screamed.
+
+Don's staff came down in a chopping blow and the animal bounced out
+onto the open path. Its paws raised little spurts of dust as it spun
+about and prepared for another spring.
+
+Again, Don's staff swung down. The gersal flopped about for an instant
+in the dust of the path, then faced toward him, an angry scream coming
+from its throat.
+
+Again, it tried to get its balance for a spring, but one hind leg
+dragged limply. Again, the staff swung, tumbling the beast over in the
+dust.
+
+There was a flurry of paws and the gersal struggled up to its haunches,
+then sat up, its brilliant red eyes fixed on Don. It stretched out
+short forelegs in seeming supplication, then batted futilely at the
+punching staff end.
+
+Disregarding the pleading attitude of the beast, Don continued to punch
+at the squirming body till it was obvious that no vestige of life could
+remain. Then, he looked at the other man.
+
+The fellow had managed to get to the center of the path before he had
+collapsed. He half sat, half lay against his pack, breathing raggedly.
+Sweat stood out on his forehead. He looked at Don vaguely, making an
+obvious effort to focus his eyes.
+
+"Thanks ... Friend," he mumbled. "You tried---- Oooh!" He closed his
+eyes and stiffened, his legs stretching out and his back arching.
+
+The men who walked ahead had been attracted by the commotion. They came
+back and one jerked off his pack and bent over the man in the path. He
+looked over at the dead animal, then glanced up at Don.
+
+"How many times was he bitten?"
+
+"I doubt if he got more than one," Don told him.
+
+The other nodded and looked searchingly at the victim. Then, he reached
+into his clothing and removed a small packet. He opened it and pulled
+the protective cover off a syrette.
+
+"There's a small chance, then," he remarked. He poked the needle of the
+syrette into the sufferer's forearm and squeezed the tube.
+
+The stricken man moved convulsively and opened one eye. His companion
+nodded.
+
+"You might make it, Delm," he said cautiously. "Only one bite, and we
+got to you soon." He nodded.
+
+"If you can hang on for just five minutes, you'll walk the trail
+again." He looked up at Don.
+
+"That was quick action," he said. "You may have saved our clan
+brother." He looked down at the torn place on the man's leg.
+
+"A couple of more bites, and he'd surely be dead by now." He got to his
+feet.
+
+"Whom do we have to thank?"
+
+Don looked down at the path in apparent discomfort.
+
+"I am Kalo," he said, "of the mountains."
+
+The other's eyes clouded. "Oh," he said tonelessly. He looked down at
+his companion, then back at the dead animal.
+
+"Well," he said slowly, "we are grateful, Clanless One. Go your way in
+peace. We will take care of our brother."
+
+Don started to turn away. "I hope he----"
+
+The other nodded curtly. "The gersal's poison is strong," he said. "But
+soon we shall see. May your way be safe." He turned back to his
+patient.
+
+Don turned away and went around the curve in the path. Well, maybe the
+Korental had been right, he thought. So long as they kept from
+bothering others, the clanless ones weren't molested. And they
+certainly didn't form any associations that might be embarrassing later
+on. He glanced back.
+
+"Hope that guy lives through it," he told himself, "but I'm glad I
+don't have to put up with a three-day celebration. Haven't got the
+time."
+
+In the distance, he could see the walls and towers of Riandar. The walk
+was nearly over now. He stepped his pace up a little, then slowed down
+again. There was no sense in coming through the gate all hot and
+sweaty, he reminded himself. It would be way out of character.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+It was funny, Don thought, that he hadn't remembered this store when
+the Korental had described its location. Probably it was the use of the
+word "shop." This was a large department store. He'd done some shopping
+here at one time or another, himself. He started to go by the front,
+then a display in one of the windows attracted his attention. He
+paused.
+
+Someone had designed a tasteful array of furniture, set up like a
+nobleman's bedroom suite. One could, without too much effort, imagine
+himself standing on the enclosed walkway of a palace, facing away from
+the inner garden. The furniture, he noted, was of excellent quality. In
+fact, when he started refinishing the ranch, maybe he'd come in here.
+He glanced at the display floor. The mats were similar in design to
+those in his pack.
+
+Suddenly, he remembered his own present status and stepped back, away
+from the window. Simple mat makers don't concern themselves with
+examining displays that would cost more than they'd make in a lifetime.
+This window was strictly for people who could afford large platters of
+luxury. He turned away, looking for another, less elaborate entrance.
+
+Down the street, at the corner of the building, he found an
+inconspicuous door. A brass plate indicated that this was the
+employees' entrance to the Blue Mountain Mercantile Company's offices.
+Another plate indicated that the delivery entrance was around the
+corner. Don shrugged and went into the door.
+
+He found himself in a narrow hallway. Before him was a stairway, its
+lowest step blocked by a light chain. To his right, a man sat in a
+small cubby.
+
+"You're in the wrong door," he said expressionlessly. "Deliveries are
+received around the corner."
+
+"I know," Don told him. "I'm from the Kor-en. I'd like to see
+Korentona."
+
+The man frowned fleetingly. "Tell you," he said casually, "maybe it
+would be better if you made your delivery right now. Then you can come
+back later on."
+
+Don examined him for a moment. "You mean something is----"
+
+"That's right." The man nodded. "Go around to the receiving room. Drop
+your pack, and come back--say in about an hour." He glanced upward as
+footsteps sounded on the stairs.
+
+"Oh, oh," he added softly. "Keep quiet and let me handle this."
+
+A heavy-set man came down the stairs. He looked sharply at Don, taking
+in his appearance and the details of his pack.
+
+"What's this, Mora?" he demanded.
+
+The timekeeper shrugged casually. "Just some porter," he said
+negligently. "Can't read too well, I guess. Got in the wrong door. I
+was telling him where to drop his pack."
+
+"Oh?" The other looked at Don more closely. "Looks like another load of
+those mats from the Morek. Look, Fellow, you wouldn't be from one of
+those clans, would you now?"
+
+Don shook his head. "I am Kalo," he said, "of the mountains. I have no
+clan. I make mats. And twice a year I come here to Riandar to sell
+them."
+
+"Been here before?"
+
+"I have been in Riandar many times."
+
+"That's not what I mean. Have you been here--to this store--before?"
+
+Don shook his head. "Not to this store, no. But they told me the Blue
+Mountain was paying better than some others. I thought I'd try----"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Yeah," the other said coldly. "Sure. Now, suppose we take a little
+walk, you and I? Some people down the street would like to talk to
+you."
+
+Don shook his head. "I merely came here to sell mats," he insisted. "I
+make good mats."
+
+The heavy man frowned. "Maybe," he snapped. "We'll see about that after
+we've had a talk with you." He stepped closer. "If you're just a mat
+maker, nothing will happen to you. If you really have good mats, you
+might even get a nice price for some of your stuff. Come on."
+
+He reached out to take Don's sleeve. Don stepped back, his face
+suddenly losing its vague, apologetic expression. His features
+sharpened, to become hard, uncompromising.
+
+"Get over to that wall, Fellow," he ordered sharply. "Move!"
+
+The man's hand dropped. For a moment, he stared slackly at Don.
+
+"Come on!" Don's voice raised a little. "Get over to that wall. And
+then stand still." He started to shuck off the straps of his pack.
+
+The man before him sobbed helplessly, then shuffled away. Don knelt
+down and stripped the pack off. Then he stepped aside and raised a hand
+in a beckoning gesture.
+
+"Now get over here," he snapped. "Pick up that pack and take it up to
+Mr. Tona's office. I'll follow you."
+
+The man in the cubby rubbed his head for a moment, then picked up the
+phone. Don swung toward him. "Put that phone back," he ordered, "and
+come out of there. You're coming with us."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Korentona looked up as the small procession entered his office.
+
+"What's happened now?"
+
+Don nodded at him, then faced the man with the pack.
+
+"Put that pack down," he commanded. "Now, stand over there." He
+pointed. "And be very quiet." He glanced at the doorman.
+
+"You can stay where you are." He looked at Korentona.
+
+"My apologies," he said, "for being so informal. But I come from the
+Kor-en, and I had a little trouble. There's a message for you in the
+pack. You know, of course, where to find it. Who are these two?"
+
+Korentona looked worried. "This one," he pointed at the doorman, "is a
+trusted employee. He's been with me for years."
+
+He paused, looking at the other man. "But this one, I have never
+trusted. I'm sure he reports to the police."
+
+Don glanced at the doorman. "My apologies," he said. "You are free to
+go as you will." He looked closely at the other.
+
+"Is this correct?" he demanded. "Are you a police agent?"
+
+The man nodded. "That's right," he said reluctantly. "I'm supposed to
+watch this place and report on its visitors."
+
+"Here," Don told him, "is one visitor you won't report." He stopped,
+considering, then impaled the man with a cold stare.
+
+"Have you ever seen a man bitten by a gersal?"
+
+The man shrugged. "Yeah. What about it?"
+
+Don nodded. "You will remember that scene," he said. "Do you remember
+that man's struggles? Do you remember the animal, chewing at him,
+injecting its poison? Do you remember this man dropping, first to his
+knees, then to his back? Do you remember----"
+
+"Hey!" protested the other. His hands came up before his face.
+
+"Put those hands down," snapped Don. "And listen closely. I want you to
+have full recall on this. You remember this man who was bitten, how he
+sobbed for breath--how his legs stretched out and his back arched, till
+the muscles tore from the bones with their effort. You remember all
+this?"
+
+The man nodded wordlessly, his fascinated stare fixed on Don's face.
+
+"Then I want you to fix this in your mind," Don told him. "Should you
+be so unwise as to attempt to mention any of these things that have
+happened since you came down those stairs--should you even allow your
+memory to dwell on these things for too long--these are the things that
+will happen to you.
+
+"You will sink to your knees. Your muscles will be unable to support
+you, and you will fall to your back. You will find it impossible to
+breathe, for the muscles of your chest will distend the ribs. And in
+your struggles, you will break bones. And you will tear your body to
+bits. Do you understand this?"
+
+The man sagged against the wall, panting. He managed a nod.
+
+"Then forget about this afternoon," commanded Don. "Go about your
+business in normal fashion. And forget about this afternoon. Nothing
+happened that was worthy of note." He waved a hand in dismissal, then
+turned to Korentona.
+
+"I don't want to go into a lot of detail," he said. "As I said, there's
+a detailed message in the pack. I'll wait for you to read it." He
+glanced down at his clothing.
+
+"I'd like a place, though, where I can clean up. And I could use some
+other clothes, if you don't mind."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+When he came back to the office, Korentona waved him to a chair.
+
+"So," he said musingly, "they were right. You did go to the clans for
+aid." He smiled.
+
+"The police have been keeping close watch on everyone in the city who
+might have even a remote connection with the hill clans. And they're
+really keeping an eye on the Waern home. You're going to have a nice
+time getting in there."
+
+Don nodded. "I expected some trouble. Do you know whether they've done
+any searching?"
+
+Korentona shrugged. "I don't run an investigative agency," he said with
+a smile, "so I don't know everything that's going on. But I've heard
+there've been lights on up there nearly every night. And they've had
+crowds of people around the place. Not so much activity the last couple
+of days, though. They're just watching."
+
+"I see," Don nodded. "Wonder if they've found what they were looking
+for?"
+
+The other shook his head, "Doubt it," he said. "If they had, they'd
+relax. Now that I know what it's all about, I can figure out what I've
+heard. They'll take off the watch as soon as they find that book, I
+think.
+
+"Oh, of course, they still want you," he added. "And they'd like to get
+their hands on the Waernu. But they wouldn't be frantic about it if
+they weren't worried about the outcome of a conclave."
+
+"No," agreed Don. "I guess they wouldn't, at that."
+
+He stretched. "Well, guess I'd better get on my way. I've got to get
+into that house somehow. Think I'll take a wander out there and see if
+I can get some ideas."
+
+The merchant put up a detaining hand. "Take it slow," he advised. "You
+can't go up there tonight."
+
+"Oh?"
+
+"No. It wouldn't be wise at all. There are a bunch of young fellows
+that have been hanging around there lately. It isn't safe to walk
+around that neighborhood. They've beaten five or six people pretty
+badly. And they've killed a couple." Korentona paused.
+
+"Funny," he added. "The police don't seem to be so upset about that."
+
+"They wouldn't be," Don told him.
+
+"So you think I'd better wait till morning?"
+
+"It'll be a lot better. I can give you a place to stay tonight. And my
+house isn't too far from the Waern place, so you can get over there in
+a hurry if you want to." Korentona paused.
+
+"Say, how about that fellow, Foree? Are you sure he'll keep quiet?"
+
+Don smiled. "Pretty certain. Of course, I don't know whether an effort
+to talk would actually kill him. But he'd be pretty uncomfortable for a
+while. Might even come up with shock amnesia." The smile broadened.
+
+"He may have already done enough careless thinking by this time to make
+him pretty sick." He regarded Korentona thoughtfully.
+
+"You say there's a gang of young fellows hanging around the Waern
+neighborhood?"
+
+The merchant nodded. "Quite a few of them, I think. People living
+around there don't spend any time on the street or in the park, you can
+be sure of that."
+
+"I see." Don nodded slowly. "That way, it's a lot easier to watch the
+Waern place at night. Look, there must be quite a few hillmen in this
+city. I should think you'd know quite a number of them."
+
+"Yes, I do, of course." Korentona smiled. "We don't exactly form a
+closed group, but ... well, I'll have to admit we do think a little
+differently from the plainsmen."
+
+"I know." Don reached into his jacket and slowly withdrew a stick with
+a thong wrapped around it.
+
+"Many of your friends carry these?"
+
+The merchant laughed. "Certainly!" He produced a polished stick of his
+own.
+
+"Can you imagine any clansman without this sling?"
+
+Don looked at him speculatively. "I wonder," he said casually, "what
+would happen if these young toughs found themselves being hunted down
+by ... say ten or fifteen blood hungry clansmen. Might worry them a
+little, wouldn't you think?"
+
+Korentona shook his head doubtfully. "You know what the situation is
+here in Riandar," he remarked. "The police don't worry too much about
+these robberies and beatings. But they'd be pretty perturbed if someone
+started hunting the hunters."
+
+"That's what I mean." Don spread his hands. "Might even get the people
+watching the Waern place upset and nervous." He shrugged. "And who's to
+know what caused the uproar, or who's involved? After all, all the
+clansmen were at home. The watchers on their houses could testify to
+that."
+
+Korentona looked at him curiously. "Interesting idea, at that, you
+know." He got to his feet. "Suppose we talk it over for a while."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Maurie VanSickle crouched behind a bush, watching the path. This, he
+thought, was getting old. It had been a lot of fun at first.
+Profitable, too. He thought with amusement of the old man who had
+scrambled about in the dirt that first night. Boy, what a beat jerk
+he'd been. And what a beautiful job Gerry had done on him. Clipped the
+stupid yokel so hard he didn't make a sound when he went down.
+
+Then he and Walt had come in. Man, how the old guy had wriggled! He
+looked down the path.
+
+Now, though? Phooey! Not a lousy person on the path all evening. He'd
+tried to tell Gerry they were on a loser. Park was all worked out for a
+few weeks. But the stubborn clown wouldn't listen. Kept insisting they
+try it a couple more nights. Maurie reached into his pocket.
+
+"Better make a strike pretty soon," he muttered to himself. "The old
+cash bag's getting empty." He stretched, then tensed. There were
+footsteps on the path.
+
+This one was his!
+
+Silently, he gathered himself. He'd clip the guy from behind, then
+Gerry and Walt could come in from the other side and pin him down.
+
+"Hope the jerk's got plenty of that stuff," he muttered.
+
+The stroller came closer. Maurie appraised him as he walked. Oh, boy,
+another little, old guy. Clothes looked pretty good, too. Nice stack of
+cloth. Should be quite a rack of the purple in them.
+
+Now the man was almost close enough. Maurie's eyes followed him as he
+approached, then passed. He launched himself in a crouching dash.
+
+As he left the shelter of the bush, something bumped against his neck.
+He found himself whirling to the ground. Dimly, he saw his intended
+victim whirl around. He attempted to dodge the foot as it came down on
+his face, but it was like moving in a dream. Somehow, he was too slow.
+
+For just an instant, he felt crushing pain, then the world dissolved
+into bright specks in a spreading blackness. One by one, the points of
+light winked out. And then, there was nothing.
+
+As their intended victim whirled to crush Maurie, Gerry Kelton poked at
+his brother.
+
+"Come on," he urged. "He can't take two of us. Let's go."
+
+The two dashed out of their cover, then found themselves prostrate at
+the edge of the path.
+
+Walt Kelton was flipped over and held in a vicelike grip, his head
+grinding into the path. Close by, he could see his brother. Two men
+held him down. As he watched, they seized Gerry's hands, twisting them
+so that his head flopped face up.
+
+A third man leaned over, a long knife in his hand. Unbelievingly, Walt
+watched as the man thrust the knife into Gerry's throat. The boy's feet
+kicked convulsively a couple of times, then dropped. The toes sank, to
+point outward.
+
+With calm precision, the killer turned his knife and forced it across
+the throat with the heel of his hand. Dark fluid welled out on the
+path, making a pool which flowed toward Walt.
+
+Casually, the man pulled the slack of Gerry's shirt toward him and
+wiped the blade till it was gleaming again. Then he looked toward Walt.
+He got to his feet.
+
+For an instant, the boy lay limp, paralyzed with terror. Then, he
+kicked and struggled madly. Unbelievingly, he felt the hands which
+restrained him loosen and he kicked and squirmed until he was free to
+scramble away.
+
+He skittered on all fours till he reached the middle of the path.
+
+Then he struggled to his feet.
+
+And ran.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Don Michaels flipped on the light in the vault and looked around him.
+Yes, it was just as Jasu Waern had said it would be. He walked over to
+the closet at the side of the room and pulled out a towel. As he dried
+himself, he continued his examination of the room.
+
+It had been easier to get in than he had hoped. When that screaming kid
+had come dashing along, it had been like a stick in an ant hill.
+Everyone around the house had been shaken up. Several men had gone
+streaking over to the park. The others had given the incident their
+full attention.
+
+And all Don had needed do was walk up to the front door and go in.
+
+"Guess they thought they had a full-scale revolution on their hands,"
+he told himself. "Wonder how many Hunters the Moreku nailed." He
+grinned.
+
+The men Korentona had talked to had jumped at the plan like starving
+gersals. Several of them had been victimized in the past. They really
+wanted blood. The others saw a good hunt in the offing. Every one of
+them knew someone who had been robbed. He'd turned something loose, all
+right.
+
+"Hope they don't get too enthusiastic about it," he said. "Hate to have
+'em make a habit of that sort of thing." He shrugged.
+
+"Oh, well, let's see where that book is."
+
+The sides of the room were lined with books. Over in a corner was a
+reading table with writing materials and a conveniently placed light.
+Don walked over to a glass-fronted bookcase and opened it, studying the
+titles of the volumes within. Finally, he selected a book and carried
+it over to the reading table.
+
+He leafed through the volume, noting the careful engrossing. Then he
+paused as he came to the pages he was searching for. He examined the
+ornate script closely, then looked at the intricate stamp. It was the
+signature stamp of the old king. Beside it was his queen's less
+pretentious stamp. Don nodded in satisfaction.
+
+Now, the only problem was to wrap the book safely in the waterproof
+tissue he'd brought with him, and get it out of the house. He stood,
+looking at the door.
+
+It might not be too safe to leave the book with Korentona, as had been
+originally planned. With the clansmen under surveillance as they had
+been, and now, with this additional disturbance, there could be a
+disastrous slip. Don shook his head.
+
+Somehow, the idea of carrying this document in a peddler's pack didn't
+make too much sense, either. Too many things could go wrong. He sat
+back in the chair and stuck his legs out.
+
+"Well," he told himself, "I can't stay here for the rest of my life.
+I'll have to do something." He grinned ruefully.
+
+"The best defense," he quoted, "is a determined and well-directed
+offense. So, if you don't know what to do, do anything. Then you'll
+find out what to do next."
+
+He snapped the light out and opened the door. At the edge of the water
+lock, he breathed deeply a few times. Then he plunged in, closed the
+underwater door, and swam rapidly toward the surface of the garden
+pool.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+He climbed out of the water, strode forward a few steps, then stopped
+in consternation. The place was suddenly flooded with light.
+
+An oily voice sounded in his ears.
+
+"Just stand still, young fella. That way, you don't get hurt. Not right
+away, anyhow."
+
+Don turned. At the side of the garden, stood a scrawny old man, his
+seamed face wrinkled into a sardonic smile. In his hand, he held a
+small weapon.
+
+Don recognized it--a khroal. The weapon could put out vibration which
+would tear any target to tiny, singing fragments in a few microseconds.
+It was a complete anomaly which had been in the possession of the
+Khlorisanu for measureless time. Its origin was mystery, its exact
+principle of operation a puzzle. But it was easy to duplicate, and it
+was one of the most deadly hand weapons known.
+
+He held his hands out.
+
+"Put that thing away," he snapped coldly. "Get it down--quick!"
+
+The older man's smile broadened into happy amusement.
+
+"Oh, funny stuff, eh?" he said joyfully. "I kinda hoped you'd be the
+one they'd send. Yeah, I kinda wanted to see you--what you look like,
+eh?" He waved the weapon.
+
+"Just stand still, young fella, so old Jake can get a good look at you.
+Hey, you look like one of these here natives." The man bobbed his head.
+
+"Woulda fooled me, you know?" He looked reproachful.
+
+"Only, a smart young fella like you, you oughta know better than go and
+get that Foree so worried. You know, that fella, he comes in every
+night--got a lot of things he wants to talk about. Got theories. Got
+plans. Real eager fella. Only tonight, he ain't got nothing. Just
+grunts.
+
+"Nothing goes on today, he says." Jake shook his head reproachfully.
+
+"You know, that was careless. You shoulda let him talk anyhow a little,
+see. Something like that happens, old Jake, he gets ideas. So I come
+out here, to see who comes along." He looked at the package under Don's
+arm.
+
+"That the book we're all looking for?" He jerked his head toward a
+door.
+
+"Yeah, guess it is. Come on, young fella, that funny stuff, it don't
+work so good with old Jake, see? So let's you and me take a nice little
+ride. What ya say?"
+
+The khroal remained steadily pointed at its target.
+
+Don hesitated. This was about as far from good as it could get, he
+thought. Now who was this? Where did he fit into the situation?
+
+"Who are you?" he demanded.
+
+"Oh, I don't mind telling you that. Name's Jake. Jake Gorham. But come
+on. Let's get on our way. We got a nice, long ride, you and me, see?"
+Gorham waved his weapon again.
+
+"Come on," he repeated. "Nice young fella like you, he don't wanna get
+all scattered around. Shame to mess up this nice pretty little garden,
+you know?"
+
+Don hesitated. Of course, he might be able to dive into the pool again.
+But the khroal could kick out a cone several feet deep. There was no
+escape that way. No way out of the pool, anyway--except through this
+garden. He moved in the indicated direction.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Gorham herded him to the courtyard and closed the door. The house
+lights filtered through curtains, to show the outline of a flier in the
+middle of the court. Gorham urged him toward it.
+
+"All right, young fella," he said, "just stand real quiet for a minute.
+I'll get this thing unlocked and start them synchronizer things." He
+reached toward the door, then paused.
+
+"Yeah, I been kinda wondering about you," he added conversationally.
+"See, I got a smart young fella down there in Oreladar. He's got people
+pretty well trained down there by now. Chap named Stern. You hear of
+him, maybe?" He chuckled.
+
+"Kinda set him up in business here a few years back, and he's doing
+pretty well. Old Jake just hasta hang around--kinda look after things
+now and then, this boy shouldn't get in too much trouble, see?" He
+cleared his throat.
+
+"See, this Danny, he ain't got too much in the brains department. And
+he don't do so good when people get violent. Might say he sorta scares
+easy sometimes. Now you, I'd say you were a little different, see? Ya
+know, I just might be able to use a real smart young fella like you."
+He flipped the khroal up and down negligently.
+
+"Now, don't go making up no mind yet. Like I say, we got time. We have
+a nice, long talk on the way to Oreladar. Maybe we work something out,
+eh? You know, old Jake, he ain't such a bad guy. You ask Danny. He'll
+tell you. We could get along real nice, the three of us." He paused,
+considering.
+
+"Oh, maybe you don't like the idea at first," he added. "But we got all
+kinds ways to persuade people.
+
+"Got a fella, name's Masterson, down there right now. Danny tries, but
+he can't do nothing with him. But he'll come around. You give us a few
+more days--a week, maybe, he's going to be a real reasonable fella." He
+pulled the flier door open.
+
+"We're getting this country organized, see? One of these days, some
+fella's been smart and got in at the right time, he's going to be quite
+a guy. Have just about anything he wants, see?" He reached into the
+flier and snapped switches. A muted humming sounded through the
+courtyard.
+
+"Tell you, though, Kid. Maybe old Jake's not real trusting like he
+oughta be. Not just yet a while. Suppose you just turn your back to me
+for a minute, eh?"
+
+Don turned slowly, straining his ears.
+
+He could hear the faint sibilance of Gorham's clothing as the man
+approached. Then the sound stopped. There was a slight grating noise.
+
+Obviously, then, the man was lifting an arm and shifting his weight.
+
+Don dropped suddenly to the ground, whirling as he went down. He seized
+Gorham's legs, lifted, then dashed the man's body to the ground.
+Swiftly following up, he seized the gun hand and twisted violently.
+
+Jolted by the sudden fall, Gorham was quiet for a fraction of a second.
+Then he burst into explosive action, trying to tear himself free from
+Don's restraining grip. He twisted and tried to kick himself free, then
+groaned as the twisting pressure ripped at elbow and shoulder tendons.
+The khroal rattled on the stones.
+
+Abruptly, Don jerked the tortured arm around and pinned it beneath a
+leg. He placed a hand on Gorham's throat and reached for the other arm.
+
+"Aw," whispered Gorham agonizedly, "aw, take it easy, will you? I got
+the idea all right. So let me up, we do things your way, huh?" He
+looked anxiously at the face which stared down a few inches from his
+own.
+
+Don saw the pleading expression on the man's face. For a heartbeat, he
+started to relax the pressure on the throat.
+
+Then he remembered another pleading pair of eyes that had looked at
+him. The gersal, he remembered, had been just as helpless under his
+stick as this man was now under his hands. But given the slightest
+chance, it would have had its teeth in his leg. And the poison would
+have poured into his veins. He looked again at Gorham.
+
+His hand tightened and drove downward.
+
+Gorham's eyes widened, then glazed. He gave a half-choked squawk. Feet
+and body jerked convulsively. Then the hard, taut strength was gone and
+the man lay limply. Don raised his hand and put his entire weight
+behind the stroke which drove his extended fingers into the soft part
+of the man's throat. Then he felt carefully, to be sure there was no
+vestige of a pulse.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+He got to his feet and stood for a moment, looking down at the crumpled
+figure on the stones. Then he brought his hands up, to look at them
+appraisingly. He was suddenly aware of a feeling of lightness, of an
+uncontrollable desire to go into rapid motion. Any motion would do. His
+muscles simply demanded some sort of violent action. It seemed to him
+as if he almost floated as he walked over to the book he had thrown as
+he whirled on Gorham. He bent over and picked it up, then looked about
+the courtyard.
+
+He turned and looked at the flier.
+
+It was warmed up by this time. He moved swiftly over to it, his body
+jerking in a peculiar, off-beat cadence as he walked.
+
+As he sat down before the controls, a calm voice echoed in his memory,
+going through his mind like a cold breeze.
+
+"Let yourself get emotionally involved in a problem and it'll turn
+around and bite you."
+
+He forced himself to sit back, his hands away from the controls.
+
+Then he looked back at the body on the courtyard paving.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Gorham had implied that he was the power behind the whole present
+regime. Maybe he'd been bragging. But again, maybe he hadn't. There had
+been a queer, hard force about the man. There had been an aura which
+Don had sensed, but could not analyze. One thing was certain. This man
+had never been able to work under someone else's orders.
+
+He looked around the interior of the flier.
+
+"It's a Royal Guard job," he told himself.
+
+He could see painted legends, giving cautions and instructions to
+whomever should pilot the ship. He felt under the dash.
+
+There was a light board snapped into clips. He pulled it out and turned
+on the cabin lights.
+
+Yes, it was all there. Instructions for the identification
+devices--description of the identification and warning lights. It gave
+the location of switches--the settings for communications. There was
+even a small card inserted in a pocket. It gave the communications code
+used by patrol fliers in routine communication. Don smiled happily.
+
+Now, he could fly back to the hills. It would only take a few minutes,
+and----
+
+Why should he? There was an easier way now.
+
+It would be much easier to ride this flier right on into Oreladar. If
+he headed for the hills, questions might be asked which would be hard
+to answer. But Oreladar would be the normal place for Gorham to go. And
+the Federation compound wasn't too far from the Palace. He could feint
+at the Palace landing pad, then---- He nodded and studied the lighting
+plan and identification settings.
+
+At last, he nodded in satisfaction, then turned his attention to the
+small card with the operations code. It was a simple, systematic
+arrangement, obviously arranged for day-to-day use, not for secrecy. He
+nodded and clipped it in front of him under the panel light, where he
+could see it easily. Then, he looked thoughtfully at the courtyard.
+
+There was a small chance that some guard might decide to come into the
+house, he decided. Of course, it was still to be regarded as a private
+home, and they had no right to---- He laughed sarcastically.
+
+"That would worry them!" he said aloud.
+
+He got out of the flier and leaned over the body of Gorham. It was
+surprisingly light. The man had been carrying almost unbelievable
+strength and power of will in a tiny, frail body. Don threw his load
+over his shoulder and climbed back into the flier. Then he sat back and
+looked dully at the control panel.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Suddenly, he felt completely drained. It was just too much effort to
+get this ship off the ground. And that long flight to Oreladar? Just
+how much was a guy supposed to do in one day?
+
+He sat supinely for a few minutes, simply staring at a nothingness
+beneath the surface of the panel. A small noise from the house aroused
+him, and he jerked up. He'd have to move.
+
+Unwillingly, he pulled at the controls and the flier raised from the
+paving.
+
+A blast of air hit the side of his face and he turned his head. He'd
+forgotten to close the door. He snarled at himself in annoyance, then
+leaned over and jerked at the handle. The ship swayed and dipped toward
+the lighted streets and he straightened quickly and righted it with a
+jerk. Then he snapped off the cabin lights and reached down to set up
+the identification patterns.
+
+A tinny voice snapped at him.
+
+"Rano ninety-one, Riandar control. Seven three seven."
+
+Don looked at the code card before him. Yes, there it was. "Return to
+station." He glanced at the call sign on the panel before him. He was
+Onarati three. He nodded. Only an important official would be in this
+flier. Probably Gorham hadn't been bragging so much.
+
+Another voice had acknowledged the order. Don looked at the speaker
+grill and shrugged. He set his course southward.
+
+Again and again, the speaker rattled with calls and answers. Riandar
+control appeared to be busy tonight. Don smiled.
+
+"The busier they are, the better," he told himself. "Then they can't
+bother me." He coughed.
+
+"Wonder how Korentana made out?" He looked overside.
+
+Abruptly, he was aware of another flier close to his. On its top a blue
+light blinked glaringly. He looked at it in consternation. Had
+they----? But how? He started to pull the control to him and go into
+evasive flight. Then he stopped.
+
+"Use your head," he advised himself.
+
+He reached out and scooped up the microphone. For an instant, he looked
+into space, thinking, then he spoke.
+
+"Riandar control," he snarled in an imitation of Gorham's voice.
+"Onarati three. Got one of your guys on my back. What's the idea?" He
+released the button.
+
+"Oh, boy," he told himself, "I hope that's the right approach." He
+looked toward the back of the cabin. If his short contact with Gorham
+had told him enough, and if he'd judged correctly ... and if Gorham
+was----
+
+The speaker crackled. "Onarati three, Riandar control," it said. "Seven
+zero five?"
+
+Don looked down at the card under the panel light. Yes, there it was.
+"Give your location."
+
+He mashed the microphone button again. "Seven hundred meters," he
+snarled impatiently. "South edge of town. Come on, what's this guy
+doing, riding my tail?"
+
+Another voice intruded into the speaker. "Your pardon, Onarati three,"
+it said. "This is Rano two four. We cannot read your identification
+lights."
+
+Don looked down at the panel, then shook his head in annoyance. He'd
+neglected one switch. He reached out and snapped it on. Then he pushed
+the mike button again.
+
+"So now you happy?" he demanded. "So why ain't ya telling me something,
+instead of coming around with all them blinking lights?"
+
+The other flier sheered away, its blinker off.
+
+"Your pardon," said the speaker. "We were not sure."
+
+Don sighed in relief. That had been too close for comfort. He glanced
+down, then blinked and looked again.
+
+"Oh, no!" he growled incredulously. "I left my clothes by the pool."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Kent Michaels opened his eyes. In front of him was a shattered
+windshield. The light support struts were bent back. The heavy plastic
+had crackled and powdered. He stared at it. It must have been quite an
+impact. All he could remember was confused motion, then blackness.
+
+He shook his head to clear his vision, then started to unfasten his
+seat belt.
+
+And his whole left side exploded as each individual muscle and nerve
+set up a separate protest. He gritted his teeth against the sharp, red
+knives of agony.
+
+"Got to reach that belt and get out of here," he told himself. "Wonder
+how long I've been out?"
+
+He forced his hand to the buckle, then stopped.
+
+"Oh, sure, you idiot," he said aloud. "Go ahead and let the belt go.
+You can't hurt yourself by landing on your thick head."
+
+He forced himself to ignore the agony in his side and shoulder and
+looked around the cabin. Evidently, the ship had hit and rolled. He
+closed his eyes, trying to remember.
+
+He'd evaded the pass that first guy had made at him. Then, when the
+second one showed up and dove in, he'd gone into a dead-duck spin. So
+far, so good. Evidently, they'd been fooled. Probably never saw that
+gag before. But what had happened after that? He searched his memory.
+
+Oh, sure. He'd spun the ship under this overhang and set it down. And
+the ground had double-crossed him. Even a duck couldn't have kept a
+foothold on that ledge. He could remember the sudden tilt as the flier
+slid over and started to roll. Then everything had happened at once. He
+could remember trying to hold off the windshield from beating his
+brains out, but---- He opened his eyes. No use trying to analyze that
+part of it. Things had become confusing.
+
+No matter how you figured it, he was here, hanging upside down in his
+seat belt in a pretty thoroughly wrinkled up ship. He moved his left
+arm experimentally.
+
+His side went into screaming agony again.
+
+Well, anyway, the shoulder wasn't broken. It could move--a little.
+
+"Great," he told himself. "Now, how do you get out of this seat belt
+without breaking your stupid neck?"
+
+He reached out with his right hand, to feel the padded roof under him.
+Well, maybe he could---- He set his teeth and forced his left hand to
+the belt release. If he could just hold enough weight with that right
+hand so that---- Well, no use worrying about it. Something had to be
+done. He pushed against the release. The shoulder screamed almost
+aloud. He started levering the buckle apart with his thumb.
+
+Suddenly, the belt let go and he was struggling to put enough power
+into his right arm to hold himself away from the approaching roof.
+
+For a seeming eternity, he struggled to maintain his balance and ease
+himself down. Then there was a soft bump. He sank into soft, cushioned
+blackness.
+
+It was dark when he opened his eyes again. Incuriously, he rolled his
+eyes from side to side. He could see nothing. He let himself slip back
+into the soft nothingness.
+
+Slowly, he came back to being. For a timeless instant, he examined a
+cushion which lay just before his eyes. Then pain messages started
+clamoring for attention. There were too many of them to unscramble.
+Everything was screaming at once.
+
+He breathed in shallow gasps, then forced himself out of his cramped
+position. At last, he managed to get to his knees and crawl out of the
+gaping hole where a door had been. Outside, he collapsed to the ground
+and lay, panting.
+
+Slowly, he gathered strength and struggled to his feet. At least, his
+legs were in working order.
+
+He looked back at the ship, then whistled.
+
+"What a mess! How'd I ever get out of that one?"
+
+He shook his head to clear it, then examined the cave.
+
+The ledge, he discovered, wasn't particularly high. It had just been
+enough to roll the ship. The slope of the ground and the back wall of
+the cave had done the real damage. He reached out with his right hand
+and grabbed a vine. Yes, he could walk himself up the ledge with that.
+And that would get him out of here.
+
+He turned back and inched himself inside the flier again. The emergency
+food pack was there. Unbroken, too. He fished it out and opened it,
+forcing the almost useless left arm to lend a little support as the
+right worked at the fastenings.
+
+The food concentrate actually tasted good.
+
+It could be a lot worse, he thought. Those two murderers had jumped him
+only a few kilometers from Kordu valley. Unless he was badly mistaken,
+this would be Gharu Gorge. It was steep-walled, but it could be
+climbed. And once he got to the rim, it would be only a days walk to
+Korelanni.
+
+"Not too bad," he told himself. "Anybody for mountain climbing?"
+
+He got to his feet, reeling a little as his side protested against the
+indignity of being forced into motion. Probably a broken rib or two, he
+thought. He brought his right hand over and ran his fingers delicately
+over the left collar bone, from neck to shoulder. Then, he nodded. It
+seemed to be in one piece. Might be cracked, but it'd hold together--he
+hoped.
+
+Slowly, he started pulling himself up the bank, pausing now and then to
+regain his balance and take a new grip.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Lieutenant Narn Hense gave a snort of irritation, then walked across
+the guardroom and switched the television off. Those news broadcasts
+gave him an acute, three-dimensional pain. It was normal, he supposed,
+for propaganda to sneak into a state-controlled broadcast, but did it
+have to be so damn----
+
+"Oh, the devil with it," he said aloud. "I just help run the Security
+Guard around here. The Commissioner can worry about policy--and
+diplomatic relations, too."
+
+He glanced at the clock on his desk, then reached out to grab his hat.
+
+"Better take another look at the guard while I'm at it," he told
+himself.
+
+He strode out of the office, hooking his sidearm belt from a hanger as
+he went by.
+
+It would be a good idea, he decided, to check post number four first
+this time. The landing pad guard had been a little less than perfectly
+alert tonight.
+
+"Probably worrying about last night," he told himself. He smiled
+reminiscently.
+
+Moresma had been pretty worried and scared when the patrol had brought
+him in. They'd gotten him out of the jam and kept him out of trouble,
+but it had been close. The local authorities didn't seem to have much
+sense of humor when it came to Federation personnel. In fact, they
+seemed to welcome incidents that could----
+
+"Funny," he told himself. "There are plenty of Galactics here, too.
+They get along fine, but let one of our guardsmen drop a chewing gum
+wrapper---- Oh, well. One of those things, I guess." He walked around
+the corner of the building and strode down a hedge bordered path.
+
+As he walked, he looked about at the dark Commission buildings. It was
+a large compound. There were several posts and it took a large security
+guard detachment to give it adequate protection. He glanced up at the
+sky.
+
+A blue-lit flier was coming toward him, flying rather low. Suddenly,
+its lights blinked out.
+
+Hense looked at the suddenly dark shape incredulously. It seemed to be
+arcing down, toward the compound. He started forward at a run.
+
+Either that pilot was out of control, or he was crazy. In any event, he
+was going to crash in the compound unless his luck was fantastically
+good. He'd been coming in fast, too. The lights had indicated an
+official Oredanian ship.
+
+This, he decided, was definitely irregular.
+
+As he got to the pad, the ship came to an abrupt halt overhead. Then,
+it came down in a blur of speed. Not more than half a meter from the
+pavement, it checked its fall and settled. A door popped open.
+
+Hense flipped his light from his belt and snapped it on. The guard, he
+noted approvingly, had been prompt. The man had dashed up and now stood
+close by the flier, his weapon at the ready.
+
+A figure came out of the flier and stopped.
+
+"Put out that light!" snapped an annoyed voice.
+
+Hense snapped the switch on his hand light, then stared at the figure
+by the flier.
+
+Now, what was this? He wasn't accustomed to taking orders from some
+joker that barged in and shot an unauthorized landing. He was the one
+who should be giving the orders. He started to raise the light again.
+
+"Leave that light out, hang it," said the voice sharply. "I don't feel
+like being a target. And you! Don't point that thing at me! Now come
+on, both of you. Let's get out of the open. Take cover!"
+
+Hense shook his head dazedly. It wasn't right, but there didn't seem to
+be much room for argument right now. Somehow, that voice carried
+authority. Moresma hadn't hesitated. He was following the dim figure
+which ran from the side of the flier. The lieutenant turned and headed
+for a nearby building. There was a wide overhang there, close to the
+ground.
+
+Another ship was screaming in, its lights darkened. As Hense dove for
+cover, brilliant light pinpointed the grounded flier. The guard and the
+unknown rolled in beside him.
+
+There was a brilliant flash from the landing pad, then a heavy
+concussion made Hense's chest contract. Lurid flames rose skyward. The
+attacking flier rose sharply and disappeared. Hense looked after it
+incredulously.
+
+"Close," commented the new-comer. "Thought for a few seconds I wasn't
+going to make it. Sure didn't think they'd be with it that fast." He
+turned and the lieutenant examined him curiously.
+
+Even in the dim light, it was obvious he was pretty young. Khlorisana,
+as nearly as Hense could tell. Might be a half-caste, of course. But
+what was he doing here? Why a near crash landing? And who had the
+eternal gall to pull an attack on a grounded ship right in the
+Commission compound?
+
+He continued to stare. Come to think of it, what had this joker done
+with his clothes? Nothing on him but a pair of shorts.
+
+The other noticed the officer's gaze and looked down.
+
+"Yeah, I know." He grinned. "I got busy a while ago. Forgot to put 'em
+back on. Didn't realize I'd left every rag behind till I was well on my
+way." He looked at the ground thoughtfully.
+
+"Wonder if they'll trace Korentona through them? Well----" He faced
+Hense again.
+
+"I'm Don Michaels," he announced. He held out a large book he had been
+carrying under his arm.
+
+"Look," he added. "I've brought in something really hot. How about
+taking me over to see the commissioner? I've got to see him right
+away."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+For more than five years, the ink of First Lieutenant Hense's
+commission had been perfectly dry. He'd been in one major campaign and
+he'd served on more than one outworld. For his entire commissioned
+career, he'd been a Security Guard Officer. And he'd never had a
+reputation for being at all tolerant when regulations were broken--or
+even bent.
+
+He looked angrily at the man before him.
+
+"I don't care," he said distinctly, "if you're Hosanna, the Great. What
+I want to----"
+
+"Oh, be quiet!" Michaels held up an impatient hand. "I hate to be
+impolite about this, but it's no joke. I've got something hot
+here--really hot. I want to see Commissioner Jackson. And when he finds
+out what I've got, he's going to want to see me. Now let's get over and
+find him. Move!"
+
+Hense turned and stepped off. This, he decided, wasn't real. He must be
+dreaming. He tried to stop, but found it was impossible. He'd been
+given definite instructions, and----
+
+He walked toward the path to the Residence. Behind him, he heard the
+newcomer's voice.
+
+"You can go back to your post, guard. Better watch it, though. One of
+those Royal Guard ships might try a landing. Might be a good idea to
+get a few more men out there."
+
+Again, Hense tried to turn around and challenge this fellow. Hang it,
+he was the Officer of the Guard. He was supposed to be giving the
+orders. In fact, he should have this fellow in the detention cell by
+now, waiting for the major to see him in the morning. He paused in
+mid-stride.
+
+"Never mind stopping, lieutenant," Michaels told him. "Just keep going.
+I want to see the commissioner before Stern's people figure out
+something really good."
+
+Hense gave up. He must be asleep. It was the only possible answer. Of
+course, that was bad, too. On some stations, an Officer of the Guard
+was permitted to take a nap between guard checks. But Major Kovacs had
+some sort of a thing about that. He'd made it clear that there was
+plenty of time for napping during off-watch time. His officers, he said
+positively, would never sleep while their men were on guard.
+
+And he made checks, too. Hense struggled with himself. He had to wake
+up.
+
+It was insane. How, he wondered, could a guy be asleep and
+dreaming--and know it? And, knowing it, why couldn't he wake himself
+up? This was pure fantasy. Yeah, dream stuff. He waited nervously.
+
+Any time now, the major could be coming around to check the guardroom.
+Then the roof would fall in. Any minute now, he could expect to hear a
+window-shattering roar.
+
+"Halt!"
+
+It was the Residence Guard. Post number two.
+
+"All right," Michaels' voice was low. "Hold up. Answer him. Have him
+continue his tour, and let's be on our way."
+
+Hense stopped. "Officer of the Guard," he said loudly.
+
+"Advance, one, to be recognized."
+
+Hense sighed and stepped forward, then halted again at the guard's
+command.
+
+The man flashed a light on him, then raised his weapon to his face and
+snapped it to the raise position again.
+
+"I recognize you, sir. Any special instructions?"
+
+"None. Just continue on your post."
+
+Inwardly, Hense was reaching the boiling point. That hadn't been what
+he'd intended to say, dammit! He----
+
+"Pardon, sir," the guard was saying, "but how about this man here?"
+
+Now, Hense realized, there must be something really going on. Dream
+creatures just couldn't walk out of a man's mind and show up in front
+of an alert guard. Or had he completely lost gyro synch? He----
+
+Michaels broke in again. "It's all right, guard. Just continue on your
+post. And keep an especially sharp lookout from now on."
+
+"Yes, sir." The guard snapped his weapon up to his face again, then
+holstered it and turned to continue his tour.
+
+Hense looked after him.
+
+It wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.
+
+He resumed his pacing, toward the Residence.
+
+"Oh, well," he thought resignedly, "might as well relax and enjoy it.
+Wonder what'll happen next."
+
+Commissioner Jackson himself came to the door.
+
+"What was that fire, lieutenant?" he demanded. He noticed Michaels.
+
+"And what have we here?" He drew his head back a little, frowning.
+
+Don interrupted. "Are you Commissioner Jackson?"
+
+"Yes. But----"
+
+"Good! Here, take this." Don shoved the book out. "And let's go into
+your office."
+
+Benton Jackson looked incredulously at the figure before him. He
+reached out and accepted the book, then turned.
+
+"Another of those!" he said softly.
+
+Hense followed them inside. There were, he was discovering, peculiar
+things about this dream business. He had completed his mission. He
+hadn't been dismissed. But he could wait here, or he could tag along
+and see what happened.
+
+"Well, now," he told himself. "Things are looking up."
+
+Jackson walked over to his desk, snapping on the room lights as he
+passed them. He sat down and placed the book on the desk.
+
+"Well," he demanded, "what's next?"
+
+Don Michaels reached over the desk and flipped the book open.
+
+"Page seven oh one," he said simply. "Read it. Then, I'll start telling
+you a lot of things." He hesitated.
+
+"You _can_ read Oredanian script, I hope?"
+
+Jackson nodded in annoyance. "Of course. Part of my business." He
+flipped over the pages, looking at numbers. Then he glanced up.
+
+"How about the lieutenant?"
+
+Don faced about. "Oh," he said. "Sorry. You can go back to your
+guardroom, lieutenant. I'm sorry I had to get rough with you, but I was
+in a hurry. Still am, for that matter. Only one more thing. For the
+love of all that's holy, have your people keep a sharp lookout for the
+rest of the night. I've a hunch Stern's people will try almost anything
+right now, short of risking full-scale battle."
+
+Hense shook his head dazedly. Jackson looked up from the book.
+
+"It's all right, lieutenant," he said. "Go ahead. And you might take
+this man's word on the heavy guard. If we've got what I think we've
+got, and if Stern knows it, he might even risk a battle."
+
+Hense suddenly realized he was no longer under any kind of restraint.
+
+And, he realized, this had been no dream.
+
+He had actually been ordered around like some recruit. And that by some
+no-good, naked native kid.
+
+His guard had been pushed around. Unauthorized orders had been given to
+them.
+
+And they'd obeyed those orders--without question.
+
+In fact, the whole compound had been virtually taken over.
+
+And all by this same kid.
+
+And the commissioner said it was all right?
+
+Hense turned away. He'd----
+
+He took a step, then reconsidered. He had a better idea.
+
+"This place," he said savagely, "has just plain gone to hell!" He
+stalked through the door.
+
+The commissioner's amused voice followed him.
+
+"Not yet," it said, "but it very possibly might, lieutenant. Don't
+forget to double your guard."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+As the door closed, Jackson looked at Don, a smile wrinkling the
+corners of his eyes.
+
+"Afraid you were just a little rough on him," he said. "He'll get over
+it, but it's pretty unsettling, you know." He shrugged.
+
+"But you haven't introduced yourself. Special Corps?"
+
+Don looked at him blankly, then shook his head.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"I'm afraid I don't know what that is," he admitted.
+
+Jackson examined him carefully. "Hm-m-m," he said slowly. "Interesting!
+Tell me, how long have you been ordering people around like this?"
+
+Don spread his hands. "Why, I don't really know," he said. "You see,
+I----"
+
+Jackson held up a hand, smiling. "Never mind. Do you always go around
+... ah ... dressed like that?"
+
+Don glanced down, then grinned. "I'm sorry, sir, but I was in something
+of a dither a while ago. Truth is, I forgot to dress after I----"
+
+"Wait a minute." Again, Jackson held up a hand. "Start at the
+beginning. While you're giving me the story, I'll have some clothes
+brought in for you." He touched a button on his desk, then leaned back.
+
+"All right," he said, "let's have it. First, of course, who are you?"
+
+While Don was talking, an impassive aide brought an outfit for him. He
+slipped into the clothing as he finished his account.
+
+"So," he concluded, "all we need to do now is to force a conclave and
+it's all over. From what Gorham told me, I'm pretty sure I can tear
+Stern apart myself." His eyes clouded.
+
+"Of course, there's Mr. Masterson. I guess they've got him in one of
+the torture cells."
+
+Jackson waved a hand. "There's no problem about Masterson. We'll have
+him over here by morning.
+
+"And I have an idea your father is all right. From what you tell me,
+I'd say he used one of the evasion tricks they teach Guard pilots.
+Then, he probably made a safe landing." He leaned forward and snapped
+down the key on his intercom.
+
+"Emergency operation schedule, Lorenz," he said, "as of now. Have the
+department heads report here immediately. Have Communications get out
+an immediate message to Deloran Base. I want at least three squadrons,
+and I want 'em now. Tell 'em to burn the grass." He lifted the switch
+and turned to Don.
+
+"I'm not going to take any chances from here on," he remarked. "We'll
+send a squadron of fighters along with you to pick up young Waern and
+the clan leaders. That way, they'll have protection." He frowned.
+
+"Now, that leaves us with only one more problem."
+
+Don looked up questioningly and the commissioner nodded.
+
+"We'll have to find someone to represent the Waernu before the
+conclave. And he'll have to be acceptable to the Waernu."
+
+"That's simple. They've already picked me."
+
+"Won't work now. You can bring them before the clans, of course. But
+they'd be in a hole if you got snapped out on civil charges right in
+the middle of the conclave."
+
+"Civil charges?"
+
+"That's right. Little matter of that body out in the flier. You know,
+and I know, the story on that. It's clearly line of duty. But up to the
+decision of the conclave, you're vulnerable. Remember, Stern can claim
+Gorham as a police agent. So, you were resisting arrest. Catch?"
+
+"Ow!" Don looked down at the floor. Then he shrugged.
+
+"But Stern has no way of knowing what happened to Gorham."
+
+"Admitted." Jackson smiled. "But he might guess. You'd have to be
+consulting with his people for some time before the conclave, you know.
+And he'd have time to figure things out. Here you are. Here's the clan
+book. But where's Gorham? And Gorham went up to find that book. Adds
+up, you see."
+
+"You mean I've got to stay under cover from now on?"
+
+"Not necessarily. The clan warden doesn't have to be identified ahead
+of time. Usually, it's just an honorary job, any way. But this time, he
+might really have to perform his traditional duty." He looked at Don
+seriously.
+
+"Remember the private conversation between claimant and prime minister?
+About that time, the warden is the only protection the claimant has.
+
+"And this is one time a claimant may really need protection."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Daniel Stern slapped a folder down on his desk and got to his feet. He
+circled the large office, then stopped, looking down at Gorham's vacant
+desk.
+
+What had happened to Gorham? Papers were stacked all over his own desk.
+And they should be here. Most of them had been old Jake's concern. He
+hadn't realized how much detail the old man had controlled.
+
+But where was Gorham? He'd come in from Riandar. Reports showed that
+much. Then, his flier had suddenly dashed over and landed on the
+Federation pad. They'd tried to stop him, but----
+
+Something must have gone wrong up there at Riandar. Something must have
+made Gorham decide to come back and make a separate deal of his own.
+But why? There was that pile of clothes in the Waern house. Had he----?
+
+Maybe that blast had killed Gorham and destroyed his evidence.
+
+He looked around hopefully. It was possible. No effort had been made to
+restrain him. He still controlled the Ministry. No effort had been made
+to limit his authority.
+
+He picked up a sheet of paper. Oh, no? They didn't want to limit
+him--they wanted everything. Here was this demand for a conclave.
+
+And with that Waern kid running around loose, that was bad.
+
+And he had no one to talk to! Of all the people in this palace, not a
+single one could serve as confidant. With Gorham gone----
+
+He shuffled through the papers. Yes, here was the formal demand for a
+conclave. He looked at it unhappily.
+
+And here was the transcript of the Waern claim. It looked too good.
+
+He tossed the papers back to the desk. It was good, and he knew it.
+He'd seen the originals in the heraldric files. They were destroyed, of
+course. But here was a photo of that clan book!
+
+And worse, here was the notice from the Resident Commissioner that the
+claimant had requested protective intervention from the Galactic
+Federation. That was really bad. He could remember his interview with
+the commissioner on that.
+
+Jackson had always been something of a problem. He was a stubborn man.
+But up to now, he'd always backed down--if enough pressure was put on
+him. This time? Hah!
+
+He'd come in, bringing that rancher--that Kent Michaels. Stern frowned.
+
+Hadn't old Jake said that guy had been shot down--was dead?
+
+He hadn't looked very dead. As councilor of the Waern clan, Michaels
+was supposed to be calling on Jackson for backing. Who, Stern wondered,
+was backing who? He recalled the interview.
+
+They'd come in. And he'd started to establish dominance over Jackson.
+
+Then that Michaels had butted in. He was worse than old Jake. What with
+one thing and another, he'd backed Stern into every corner in the
+office.
+
+It had ended very simply.
+
+Jackson had simply declared that there would be a conclave.
+
+The Stellar Guard detachment would be in attendance. No irregularities
+would be tolerated.
+
+And he'd even named the day--today. Then the two of them had walked
+out.
+
+Stern twisted his chair around viciously and sat down. He punched at a
+button on his desk.
+
+An aide came through the door. That was another thing. After that
+fiasco at the Michaels ranch, he'd had to get a new aide. He motioned
+the man forward impatiently.
+
+"You have made final arrangements for the conclave?"
+
+"Yes, sir. The Heraldric Branch has everything set up. The clans have
+already gathered in the Throne Room. The private conversation will be
+held in the Blue Palace. After the conversation, you will escort the
+claimant across the south lawn, to the Throne Room." The aide half
+turned.
+
+"I can get you the plan and diagrams, sir."
+
+Stern waved a hand. "Never mind. I've seen them." He paused.
+
+"Now, has my space yacht been positioned back of the Blue Palace? Is it
+properly serviced?"
+
+The aide paused. "Yes, sir." He looked curious, but said no more.
+
+Stern examined him haughtily. "Very well," he said. "You will remember
+my instructions. Discuss the yacht with no one. You may go."
+
+He watched as the door closed, then got out of his chair again. It was
+time for the conversation. He glanced about the office, then went out
+into the private garden.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+As he walked, he looked at the side paths among the trees, which seemed
+to beckon to ever more enticing vistas beyond. There were the miniature
+landscapes, with their mountains and lakes. There were the small
+cottages, where one could sit and enjoy a cooling drink. He smiled
+wryly and walked across a miniature bridge.
+
+As he reached the other side, he stopped, to lean against the rail.
+This was not going to be easy to give up.
+
+He watched the water birds for a while, then went on his way.
+
+As he came through a small grove, he saw the yacht. It had been set
+down where it could easily take off, and yet where it was impossible to
+see unless one came within a few meters. The aide had done well. He'd
+have to remember----
+
+No, he thought, someone else would be dealing with that aide in the
+future. He'd be long gone.
+
+He walked up to the ship and opened the door, looking inside. Then, he
+climbed in, glancing at his watch. It was past time for the
+conversation. The claimant and his warden would be waiting. So would
+the other clan wardens, who waited to make up the advance guard of
+honor.
+
+He wondered how long they'd wait.
+
+He sat down in the pilot's chair and glanced at the gauges. Then he
+flipped on the view panels and looked outside at the trees.
+
+It had been a lot of fun. But----
+
+"No use taking foolish chances," he told himself.
+
+He reached for the starting bar, then hesitated.
+
+"Wait a minute," he told himself. "Who's the prime minister around
+here, anyway? I can----"
+
+He sat back, thinking. Of course. It was such a beautifully simple
+idea. Really foolproof. He should have thought of it before.
+
+There would be only the few of them in that private conversation. He
+should have realized that. They'd present no difficulty. The wardens?
+He snorted.
+
+Just a bunch of dressed-up idiots. No trouble there. Anyway, only one
+of them was directly concerned. And he wouldn't really know what was
+going on. Only the claimant would know. He laughed.
+
+"Wonder just how it feels to get ordered around like that?"
+
+After the conversation, he could walk into the conclave with signed
+papers. And who would dare challenge that? Even the commissioner's
+people would have to admit defeat. He smiled. Michaels? He'd be
+standing there with his mouth open. Nothing he could do. It would be
+too late.
+
+And once he got that crowd back into his jurisdiction, there'd be no
+further problems. He'd be sure of that.
+
+This was actually what he'd been waiting for! This was a formal
+conclave, called at the request of the tribes themselves. They'd have
+to choose now. And there was no one else.
+
+He, Daniel Stern, would walk out of that Throne Room with the silver
+robes over his shoulders.
+
+King Daniel!
+
+He climbed out of the yacht and paced toward the small doorway, at the
+back of the Blue Palace.
+
+He came into the private conference room and walked with dignified
+stride toward his place. As he came under the canopy, he stopped and
+placed his hands on the rail.
+
+With haughty appraisal, he allowed his gaze to roam over the men who
+stood to flank the outer door. At last, he stopped, to center his
+attention on the two who stood in the doorway.
+
+Here were the two key figures--the claimant and his warden.
+
+The man on the right was dressed as for battle, his polished sling
+stick shoved into his sash at an angle so as to be easy to his right
+hand, just to the left of it was thrust the long hillman's knife. There
+was only one thing unorthodox about his equipment. Stern frowned as he
+inspected that.
+
+In his right hand, the man carried a long device of wood and metal.
+Obviously, it was a weapon of sorts. Stern examined it carefully,
+speculating as to its nature.
+
+It was, he finally decided, some type of beam projector. Judging from
+the long barrel, it would throw a narrow cone. Mentally, Stern
+calculated the probable dispersion.
+
+Some Stellar Guard weapon, he thought, that had been loaned to this
+fellow. Well, it made no difference. Whoever the fellow was, he'd never
+dare use such a device here. He turned his attention to the other--the
+claimant.
+
+So this was Pete Waern?
+
+The boy was slight, he noted, even for a native. Definitely, the
+studious type, decided Stern. He'd present no problem at all.
+
+The regent almost allowed himself a smile. This was going to be easy!
+He motioned the two forward.
+
+"You have matters for our attention?" he inquired formally.
+
+Waern stepped to the rail.
+
+"I here claim to be the rightful heir to the throne of Oredan," he said
+slowly. He took a book from under his arm and laid it on the table
+beside Stern.
+
+"I here present the book of my ancestors," he went on. "In it, at the
+place marked, is the contract of the last lawful king of Oredan, and of
+his queen. I was designated to be their son."
+
+Stern nodded. "It is well," he said. "We shall consider this matter."
+
+He opened the book and glanced at the script and the two signature
+stamps. Then he jerked back dramatically, staring at the book in
+simulated consternation. He bent forward again, for a closer look.
+
+"This is most strange," he said in a low, wondering tone. He shook his
+head.
+
+"These looked authentic in reproduction," he murmured. "But now?" He
+glanced at Pete and was forced to repress a smile.
+
+The expression on the Waern boy's face was perfect. He had him! He
+looked about the room, then gazed sternly at the claimant.
+
+"I find it almost impossible to believe," he said coldly, "that there
+is a person in this realm who would have the temerity to bring such a
+document to my attention for serious consideration."
+
+He stabbed a finger out to point at the book and fixed Pete with an
+accusing stare.
+
+"I find this a complete forgery," he said harshly. "Your claim is, of
+course, denied and declared fraudulent." He stepped around the rail, to
+tower over the boy.
+
+"You will, therefore, acknowledge your crime in writing." He reached
+out and took a pen from the table.
+
+"You will now write the words, 'forgery, no genuine contract,' over
+these pages. And you will sign your name." He paused, thrusting the pen
+toward Pete.
+
+"You will then----"
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+The warden stepped forward.
+
+"Pete," he said sharply. "Listen to me!"
+
+Stern looked up in annoyance. The Waern boy had started to take the
+pen. Now, he stopped and jerked around.
+
+"You will listen to nothing this man tells you," ordered the warden.
+"You will do nothing he asks. Do you understand that?"
+
+The boy nodded. "Thanks, Don," he said. "He almost got me that time."
+
+Stern glared angrily at the warden.
+
+"You will go back to your place," he ordered. "Do not attempt to
+interfere again."
+
+Incredulously, he watched as the warden shook his head.
+
+"Sorry, fellow," he heard the man say, "but that doesn't work on me.
+And it won't work on Pete--not again. Now suppose we do this thing
+right."
+
+Stern examined the man more closely.
+
+He was larger than the Waern boy, and more strongly built. But he was
+very little older--and definitely no giant. He was at least fifteen
+centimeters shorter than Stern himself, and much lighter. Looked, Stern
+decided, like a galactic. He felt a surge of hatred.
+
+No little man could dare defy him!
+
+He tilted his head a little and looked downward into the warden's eyes.
+
+"Your duties are to protect the person of this boy, so long as he is a
+legitimate claimant for the throne," he said contemptuously, "not to
+advise him. Your presence here is merely required by tradition, not by
+real need."
+
+He smiled coldly. "And, since his claim is obviously nonexistent, you
+have no standing here. Leave this palace at once!" He pointed
+imperiously at the door, then turned his attention to Pete again.
+
+"You will write as I told you. Now!"
+
+"Ignore him, Pete." The warden raised his weapon a little.
+
+"Name's Michaels," he told Stern conversationally. "Donald Michaels.
+You've met my father already." He moved the long weapon again.
+
+"You sent some of your people up to our place a while ago. I destroyed
+them with this." He jerked his head downward at the barrel of the
+weapon.
+
+"Brought it along with me when I came down here. It's quite capable of
+taking you apart, I assure you." He moved a hand on the stock.
+
+"And if you attempt any more of that unlawful coercion," he added,
+"that's just what will happen. I'll protect my claimant, you see."
+
+He tilted his head, to indicate the other clan wardens.
+
+"These men know what is supposed to be done here as well as you and I,"
+he added. "We all know this is a purely formal meeting. The validity of
+these documents has already been determined."
+
+"As Prime Minister, I----"
+
+"It is no part of your duty here to rule on the validity of any
+document," Michaels interrupted. "And it certainly isn't proper to
+attempt in any manner to persuade a claimant to abandon his claim. Not
+here. These things are proper only before the full conclave."
+
+"Are you trying to tell me my duties?" Stern looked incredulous. This
+was not going well at all!
+
+"I am doing just that," Don told him evenly. "Apparently someone has
+to." He glanced around the room.
+
+"Are there any other claimants present?"
+
+Stern felt drained of energy. What was this? The father had been
+impossible to control--like Gorham. Did the son combine other powers
+with that resistance? Where had these Michaels people come from? He
+tried once more.
+
+"There are no valid claimants present," he snapped sharply. "I----"
+
+"That's not exactly what I asked," Don told him. "But we'll take it as
+meaning that Pete's the only claimant. So, I demand that you follow the
+ritual and escort him to the conclave." He waved the weapon.
+
+"Come on. We've been held up here long enough. Let's go."
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Suddenly, Stern felt powerless. This whole thing had fallen apart. He
+should never have come in here. He should have just taken off--as he
+had intended. In space, he would have been safe, at least. Here? He
+bent his head resignedly.
+
+He could try one more thing. This was a young man--inexperienced.
+Maybe----
+
+"You will precede us," he said.
+
+"No," Don told him, "I don't think I will. I think it will be better if
+I leave that honor to one of the other wardens. I want to be able to
+see you." He jerked his head at a man who stood to the left of the
+door.
+
+"Will you honor us, Mernar-dar?"
+
+The other tilted his head. "It is I who am honored," he said. He turned
+and went out the door.
+
+Dazedly, Stern walked forward, pacing with the claimant. He paused as
+he got to the porch. Michaels was still standing inside the door.
+
+"Right here," he said coldly, "we shall return to a very old custom. I
+shall remain, to protect the rear. And I shall watch the entire
+progress of the advance to the Throne Room." He smiled grimly.
+
+"You are, I suppose, familiar with the range of a medium duty blaster?"
+
+Stern nodded. "I've seen them operate," he admitted.
+
+"Good." Don nodded. "This thing will outrange them a little. I'll have
+you in my sights all the way. Remember that, and don't do anything that
+might cause me to fear for Pete's safety."
+
+The wardens spread out, to fan out before Stern and Pete. Acting the
+part of scouts before a column, they started across the wide lawn,
+toward the Throne Room.
+
+Stern watched them for a moment, then took Pete's arm. Together, they
+walked down the long flight of steps. For a moment, they paused at the
+path, as ritual demanded, for a signal to continue.
+
+Stern allowed his thoughts to race.
+
+There was no question about it now, he thought. This boy would be
+upheld by the conclave--if he got before it. And if he were now
+sustained, an ex-regent named Stern would find himself in very grave
+trouble indeed.
+
+This was much worse than that mob in Tonar City. He glanced toward the
+gate in the wall ahead and to his right.
+
+Just beyond that door lay his yacht--and safety. If he could only
+figure out a way----
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Across the lawn, a warden was making the signal for the advance. The
+way, then, was ritually clear. Stern stepped forward, still glancing
+toward that door.
+
+They would pass within just a few meters of it. Now, where was that
+Michaels?
+
+Suddenly, he realized he could never hope to get out his hidden weapon,
+find Michaels with it, and vaporize him. Not until the other had plenty
+of time to release a beam of his own. He shuddered, remembering the
+destruction that weapon had caused up in the Morek.
+
+At this range, even the narrowest blaster beam would fan out enough to
+destroy a man's entire body. And that thing, whatever it was----
+
+Suddenly, he smiled. That was it! It would spread out too much.
+
+He flipped out the little khroal from its hiding place in his sleeve
+and placed it against Pete's back. With his other hand, he gripped the
+boy around the throat. Then he turned, seeking to locate Michaels. The
+fellow was out of sight.
+
+Probably, Stern thought, he had remained in the shadow of the huge
+pillars of the porch--or even inside the Blue Palace itself.
+
+His whole body itched. The man might fire without thinking! He raised
+his voice.
+
+"Can you hear me, Michaels?"
+
+He had been right. The answering voice came from the palace doorway.
+
+"I can hear."
+
+"Then listen carefully." Stern put all his persuasive power into his
+voice.
+
+"I shall not harm this boy unless I am forced to, but I assure you that
+if I am interfered with, I'll not hesitate. From where you are, you can
+do nothing. Any blast you release will spread out to kill him as well
+as me. You realize that?"
+
+"I can hear you." Don's voice was expressionless.
+
+"And," added Stern loudly, "if I am struck or attacked, I will have
+time to release this khroal. This is also obvious, is it not?"
+
+There was no answer. Stern frowned. What was the fellow doing? He drew
+a deep breath. He'd have to go through with it now, no matter what.
+
+"I am going to the gate in the wall over there. Shortly after I go
+through that gate, I shall release this boy, and use a means of escape
+which I have prepared. You may watch me, of course, but make no effort
+to stop me--or this boy dies."
+
+He paused again, waiting for an answer.
+
+The wardens, he could see, had stopped and stood, undecided. None of
+them was close enough to be dangerous.
+
+This, he thought with a surge of hope, was going to work out after all.
+He turned his eyes for a swift glance at his captive.
+
+Once at the yacht, he could release a bit of energy from the khroal.
+This boy had destroyed all his careful plans. No, he decided, Pete
+Waern could not be allowed to live and enjoy those good things the
+palace afforded.
+
+He tightened his grip about the boy's neck.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+Don Michaels had strapped his sling on his arm. Now, he lay on the
+floor of the Blue Palace. Stern's head was centered in the scope and
+the cross hairs bobbed slowly about a spot just in front of the man's
+right ear.
+
+"No question about it," Don told himself, "if Stern gets Pete through
+that gate, that'll be the end of Pete."
+
+He put pressure on the trigger.
+
+"The guy's as sore as a singed gersal," he told himself. "And half nuts
+besides. He'll spray Pete with that thing if it's the last thing he
+ever does." He continued his pressure on the trigger. The cross hairs
+still hovered about the man's ear.
+
+"Hope that anatomy book was right," he told himself.
+
+Of course, he realized, if he missed the tiny target--if the bullet
+failed to destroy the motor centers on impact--Stern would die anyway.
+But he just might be able to press the release on that khroal. And that
+wouldn't be good.
+
+The aiming point moved a trifle and Don eased back into position.
+
+What had happened to the trigger on this thing? Had he forgotten to
+take off the safety? Again, the cross hairs started to wander and he
+eased them back--back toward that little spot.
+
+The rifle leaped upward with a roar, slamming back against Don's
+shoulder. He let it settle again, examining the scene anxiously through
+his sight.
+
+Stern was still on his feet, but his hands were dropping limply to his
+sides. Don could just see the glitter of the khroal by Pete's feet.
+Then, Stern's knees bent and he flowed to the ground.
+
+Pete had turned at the sound of the shot. He looked back at the palace
+door, then glanced at the khroal.
+
+At last, he knelt beside the body on the ground. He felt the throat,
+then examined the man's head. For an instant, he looked a little sick,
+then he looked away from the tiny hole in front of the man's ear. He
+got to his feet and waved a hand.
+
+"Pinwheel," he shouted.
+
+                    *      *      *      *      *
+
+The newly enrobed King of Oredan settled back in his chair and shook
+the heavy cloth back from his shoulder.
+
+"So," he said thoughtfully, "it's all over." He sighed.
+
+"And it's all just beginning, too. Now, I'll have to form a
+government." He smiled sadly.
+
+"It's funny, Don. For years, I've dreamed of actually being king. Now
+it's suddenly happened and I feel about as helpless as they come." He
+stretched out a hand. "All at once, I'm realizing it's pretty rough for
+a schoolboy to suddenly find himself with a whole nation to run. I
+don't know where to start."
+
+"You'll get used to it, Pete." Don smiled at him. "Get yourself a few
+really competent advisors. Tell them what you want, and let them go out
+and get some competent people to do things. And you've got it whipped."
+
+"Yeah." Pete nodded. "Yeah, I guess that's the way it's done. But----
+Well, I asked for it. And they handed it to me." He looked directly at
+Don.
+
+"How about you? You've got plenty of clan rank, you know. What
+department do you want?"
+
+Don shook his head slowly. "Don't look at me," he advised. "They
+offered me a spot in the Stellar Guard and I'm signing up." He glanced
+around the room.
+
+"I've got no place here."
+
+"What are you talking about?" Pete frowned. "I owe this whole thing to
+you. I wouldn't even be alive if you hadn't been around. You can have
+anything you want here, and you know it. What can the Federation offer
+you?"
+
+Don shrugged. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Lot of work, of course.
+Pride of accomplishment, maybe. Peace of mind. Hard to say. Only one
+thing I'm sure of. I wouldn't work out here."
+
+"I don't get it." Pete shook his head.
+
+Don looked at him, his face expressionless.
+
+"Look, Pete. Do you really like me?"
+
+"Why, of course. You saved my life and set me on the throne. I told you
+that."
+
+"Not just what I mean. Do you feel perfectly relaxed and easy when I'm
+around? Would you really call me a close friend?"
+
+Pete squirmed in his chair. Uneasily, he looked overhead at the tassled
+canopy.
+
+"That's a lousy way to put it," he complained.
+
+"Well?" Don's face was still expressionless.
+
+Pete forced himself to look directly at him.
+
+"I don't know. I ... well, you've done so darn much. Well, I guess I am
+a little afraid of you, at that." He looked at the floor.
+
+"Oh, all right. I'll have to admit it. You do actually make me uneasy.
+Always did, even back at school. Lot of fellows felt the same way."
+
+Don stood. "That's what I mean. And it would get worse if I hung
+around. You'd get so you hated yourself--and me." He held out a hand.
+
+"You're the king--the ruler of this whole nation. That means you've got
+to be the head man. No one can give you orders. They can suggest, but
+no one can be even capable of giving you orders." He smiled.
+
+"Dad will rebuild the ranch, of course. And I may come back once in a
+while, in a very quiet way. But for the most part, I'd better not be
+around too often."
+
+Pete got to his feet. Suddenly, he looked relieved and at ease.
+
+"I'll make certain your ranch is never interfered with," he promised.
+"It's yours, so long as you or your father want it. And I hope that
+some day it'll be a home for your kids." He paused.
+
+"If you ever do decide to come to the capital," he added, "you'll be a
+welcome guest at the palace."
+
+"O.K." Don grinned. "Let's leave it that way. Good-by, then, and I hope
+yours is the longest reign in history."
+
+He turned and walked through the curtain.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Best Made Plans, by Everett B. Cole
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