Battlefield Earth Part 81

Jonnie strode two paces inside the door of Char's room.

The muzzle of a submachine gun jabbed into his left side!

A Brigante rose from behind a chair holding another Thompson grimly leveled.

Lars stood up from behind the bed, a blast pistol pointing at him.

"We are not here to kill you," said Lars. He had worked this entire campaign out and added a few embellishments of his own. From all he had heard, this was a treacherous and dangerous criminal liable to do anything. To carry out his princ.i.p.al orders it was necessary to be very intelligent about this, as intelligent as. .h.i.tler would have been. "Just do as we request, and no harm will come to you. This is an entirely legal proceeding. You are under arrest by order of the Council and these are Council troops."

Jonnie, as he entered, had been in the act of removing his air mask or he would have smelled the badly tanned skins and body stench of a Brigante.

An hour. Angus and Ker required an hour to put the vital finishing touches on that office. These creatures might go up to the office and might even have arrest orders for them. He would buy Angus and Ker that hour.

He realized then that Lars and these two Brigantes had been here for a while. Ker, when Jonnie asked for work clothes, had simply bundled up all of Stormalong's gear. It had been in a neat kit by the bed. Now it was strewn about, thoroughly searched. The food bags from both Africa and the Academy were there. They had also been ransacked. Angus's gear had been very slight and he had his tool bag with him, so there was no trace that two men's gear was in this pile.

The Brigante behind him, with a glance at his mate to see that the action was covered, whisked the blast pistol out of Jonnie's belt.

Jonnie shrugged. Buy time! "And you are taking me somewhere?"

"You are to appear this morning before the Council to be charged," said Lars.

Jonnie casually swung the door shut behind him, closing out any view of the corridor. Angus and Ker would not come out that way to go to the hangar but they might make some noise. And worse, might foolishly abandon what they were doing and take these fellows on!

"I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday," said Jonnie. "Do you mind if I have a bite first?"

Lars stepped back to the wall. The Brigante behind him backed away. The one behind the chair stepped to another position and Jonnie collected up the food bag contents and water gourds and sorted them out. He sat down and drank some water out of a gourd. There were some bananas there and he broke some off the small bunch.

The Brigantes hadn't seen any bananas since leaving Africa and eyed them. Jonnie offered them some and they would have taken them, except that Lars barked a reprimand and they quickly snapped back to military duties.

Jonnie ate a banana. Then he found some millet bread and made himself a sandwich from local beef. He had quite a hard time selecting the exact right slices. The huge Psychlo wrist watch on his wrist was whirring off the seconds and minutes. He had marked it for the hour.

"What are these charges all about?" said Jonnie.

Lars smiled very thinly. He was being pumped for confidential Council information. "You will be told in the proper time by the proper people."

Jonnie finished the sandwich and found some wild berries. He ate these. The wrist watch whirred along. Forty-nine minutes to go.

He looked into the food bags and discovered some wild sugar cane from Africa. He peeled it with care and chewed on it, sipping from a gourd between times.

Then it occurred to him if they were all silent, Angus or Ker might come busting in here to see whether he was gone. Angus would suppose Jonnie had taken his kit to the plane, but still, they might just come barging in and get arrested or shot. Very shortly now he had better start this Lars talking so they would hear a strange voice in here.

Forty-two minutes to go.

"You sure messed up my clothes," said Jonnie. "I'll have to repack."

But Lars was intent on something else. He wanted a real double-check on ident.i.ty and in his haste he had forgotten it. He wanted to make doubly sure about the collar scars. He became clever. A military maneuver was needed here. He didn't want this Tyler to be able to seize a Brigante and use him as a shield. Right now the collar of the work jacket covered his neck.

"There is no idea of inconveniencing you," said Lars. "You are in your work clothes and I should think you would want to appear at your best before such an august body as the Council. You can change your clothes if you wish. We've removed all knives and weapons. So go ahead."

Jonnie had smiled wryly when "august body of the Council" was mentioned. What pomposity! But he said, "Oh, well, in that case I suppose I had better."

He began to sort the scattered clothes into piles, making noise. It would be better if he could keep Lars talking. Thirty-nine minutes to go.

Ker certainly had brought all of Stormalong's kit. He folded it all neatly and then began picking up items and looking at them critically as though deciding which he should wear, saying, "Would this do?" and "How about this?" and "How do they ordinarily dress when appearing before the Council? In something like this?" He got Lars advising him. The Council was very formal, very strict and mindful of its dignity, and its power was enormous and men were expected to realize it. Twenty-eight minutes to go.

Jonnie suddenly saw that Stormalong, who was always very neat as well as a bit dashing about clothes, had preserved the costume he had been issued in lode days to look like Jonnie.

Chrissie had made several sets, pushed into it by Jonnie to take her mind off her imprisonment, and Jonnie had handed out sets to Dunneldeen, Thor, and Stormalong to improve their duplication. He unwrapped the buckskin hunting shirt and breeches and belt. Yes, even the moccasins. Twenty-three minutes to go!

Jonnie took off his jacket, intending to sponge off a bit before dressing.

Lars leaned forward eagerly. Terl had told him that a good security chief always depended upon body marks for identification. How right! There were the small scars of the collar. He had his man. He became inwardly jubilant. Cheerful.

"You can hurry it along now, Tyler," said Lars. "I know you for sure. The collar scars!"

So that's what he had been looking for, thought Jonnie.

"The others left hours ago, didn't they?" said Lars.

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact they did," said Jonnie. It came to him that the others had been logged out when they went to the Academy to install the recorders and must not have been logged back in. Great! Twenty minutes to go.

"And you stayed behind to rig some little tricks of your own, didn't you?" said Lars. "We'll find them later, never fear. Your masquerade is over, Tyler." Lars thought that was pretty good. He had thought it up himself. "Get dressed."

Jonnie took a piece of buckskin and gave himself a sponge bath, a procedure looked upon with total amazement by the Brigantes. They had never seen nor heard of anyone ever taking a bath.

"How did you get onto me?" asked Jonnie.

"I'm afraid," said Lars, "that that is a state secret."

"Ah," said Jonnie. Seventeen minutes to go! "Something you learned from Hitter or Bitter or whomever that was?" He recalled Ker mentioning this fellow was crazy on the subject.

"You mean Hitler! Hitler!" corrected Lars angrily.

"Ah, 'Hitler,' " said Jonnie. "That doesn't sound like a Psychlo name. Psychlo names aren't two syllables, usually. Sometimes they are, though."

"Hitler was not a Psychlo!" said Lars emphatically. "He was a man. He was the greatest military leader and the holiest church member man ever had!"

"Must have been a long time ago," said Jonnie. Fifteen minutes and seventeen seconds to go! They were almost in the clear for their forty-five minutes. But it could be an hour.

Well, yes, said Lars, it was a long time ago. How'd Lars ever find out about Hitler? Well, his family was from Sweden and they were very literate. In fact his father was a minister. And they had some old books the church had kept that had been printed by the "German War Propaganda Ministry" in the purest Swedish and it really was inspirational. It seems that to be really religious, one had to be a pure Aryan and an Aryan was really a Swede. Most people in the tribe had the colossal nerve to scoff at such holy creeds, but it had been the state religion of Sweden.

"I wish I'd heard about him sooner," said Jonnie. Twelve minutes and seven seconds to go! "Was he really a great leader?"

Oh, indeed he was, make no mistake about that. Hitler had conquered the whole world and enforced racial purity. You should really read those books. They are truly marvelous. Oh, you can't read Swedish? Well, I could read them to you. What's some parts of them? Oh, well, it would take weeks to cover it all, but for instance there's a part of a book called "Mein Kampf!' that outlines the whole destiny of the race. You see, there are really supermen and just plain men. And to be a superman one has to study and know the religious creed of fascism.

"Did they worship G.o.d?" said Jonnie. Seven minutes and twelve seconds to go. He began to dress, taking care with the thongs.

Well, of course. G.o.d's real name was Der Fuehrer but Hitler had taken his place on Earth to make a world of peace and goodwill. Now Napoleon was also a military leader and before him was Caesar and before him was Alexander the Great and before him was Attila the Hun. But these men were not holy. One really had to know history to tell the difference. Now even though Napoleon was a great military leader, on many points he didn't favorably compare with Hitler. Even though Napoleon had conquered Russia, he did not show the finesse Hitler showed when he conquered Russia. Now all this was very ancient and a long time ago and man had come to grief since, though not through any fault of Hitler's. So it was obvious that if man were to rise and be great again they should follow the creed of religious fascism, and who knew but what some new Hitler might arise to bring peace on Earth and goodwill toward men like Hitler had. It 's a funny thing, you know, but his mother used to say when she looked at the old pictures that he, Lars, quite closely resembled- The distant roar of a car starting up. The snarl of its going around the ramps to exit. The unmistakable mad driving of Ker! They were gone.

Jonnie finished dressing, packed the kit, especially Stormalong's favorite coat and scarf and goggles, and bundled it all up.

"You will be sure this gets to Stormalong," said Jonnie. But as Lars said nothing, Jonnie decided to take it along.

They had done it!

How he would get himself out of this mess he didn't know. He was a little puzzled as to why the other two had driven off when the battle plane must still be down there. But he was grateful they were out of it.

"Let's go," he said.

Chapter 5.

They exited from a different ground-level door, one that was usually locked. Jonnie glanced around for a cadet to give Stormalong's kit to and saw no one.

"I'll see that it's taken to the Academy," said Lars, divining his purpose. He must not see too deeply into the dispositions Lars had made, most of which prevented them from being seen by anyone lest Lars find himself with a battle on his hands from cadets or Russians, some of whom had just arrived at the underground base in the mountains and were a considerable force.

A storm was coming in from over the mountains, rolling black clouds, studded with lightning around the distant Highpeak. The wind was picking up and bending the tall brown gra.s.s. A few dead leaves fled through the air.

Autumn was here. There was a chill in the air on this mile-high plateau.

It gave Jonnie an eerie feeling, almost a premonition. He had left Africa in a storm and here was a storm again. He threw the kit in the back and got in. The windows were darkened so no one could see in. With submachine guns trained upon him, they drove toward the capital.

Lars was a bad driver and Jonnie could see how he must have gotten the cracked neck the plaster cast advertised. Jonnie despised him. Jonnie had known lots of Swedes and they were good people; he had even gathered from Lars' conversation that they despised him too.

The man tried to chatter on about the ancient military leader but Jonnie had had enough. "Shut up," he said from the back. "You're nothing but a turncoat traitor. I don't see how you can stand yourself. So shut up." It was unwise but he couldn't go on listening to this insanity.

Lars shut up but his eyes slitted. He suddenly enjoyed the fact that this criminal would be dead in a few hours.

The ground car squatted down at a side entrance to the capital, never used. There were no people to be seen. There were no people in the corridor either. Lars had seen to that.

They thrust him toward a door. Unseen Brigantes in the shadows kept their guns trained upon him. Two more were in the courtroom, in the corners, Thompsons c.o.c.ked and ready.

And there sat Brown Limper.

He was at a high desk on a dais. He was in a black robe. Ancient law books flanked him on either side. His face had an unhealthy sheen. His eyes were too bright. He loomed like a vulture about to attack a corpse. Just himself, the Brigante guards, and this Tyler in an otherwise empty room.

It was Tyler! He had recognized that the moment the fellow strode through the door. There was an air about this Tyler one couldn't miss. He had hated it since they were children. Hated that easy confident walk, hated that set of even features, hated those light blue eyes. He had hated everything Tyler was and he could never be. But who had the power now? He, Brown Limper! How he had daydreamed of this moment.

"Tyler?" said Brown Limper. "Come stand in front of the court bench! Answer me: is your name Jonnie Goodboy Tyler?" Brown Limper had a recorder running. Such proceedings must be regular and legal.

Jonnie came to a bored stand in front of the bench. "What is this farce, Brown Limper? You know my name well enough."

"Silence!" said Brown Limper, hoping his voice was resonant and deep. "The prisoner will answer correctly and properly or become guilty of contempt of court!"

"I see no court," said Jonnie. "What are you doing in that funny dress?"

"Tyler, I am adding contempt of court to these charges."

"Add what you please," said Jonnie, bored with it.

"You will not consider this lightly when I read you what you are charged with! This at present is just a hearing. In a week or two, a World Court will be established and the trial will take place at that time. But as a felon and criminal you have the right to hear the charges so that you can organize your defense when tried!

"Now hear ye, hear ye. You are charged with a count of murder in the first degree, the victims being the Chamco brothers, loyal employees of the state, feloniously a.s.saulted with intent to kill and later dying by their own hand due to pain of their wounds.

"Kidnapping in the first degree, the said Tyler a.s.saulting and feloniously seizing the persons of two Coordinators going about their legal duties as agents of the Council.

"Murder and felonious a.s.sault upon a peace-loving and unoffending tribe called the Brigantes including the slaughter of half a commando.

"Ma.s.sacre of a convoy of peaceful commercial people going about their business and viciously and maliciously slaughtering them to the last man."

"Psychlos," said Jonnie. "They were Psychlos organizing an attack upon this capital."

"That's stricken from the records!" said Brown Limper. Indeed, he would have to erase it from this disc. "You are not on trial. These are just the charges that have been brought against you by decent and deserving citizens of this planet. Remain silent and hear the charges!

"It is noted by the court," continued Brown Limper-how he had slaved over this parlance from ancient books; he hoped he had it all right and legal-'that numerous other charges could be brought but at this time have not been brought."

"Such as?" said Jonnie, indifferent to this clown.

"When you seized the remote control panel from one Terl and launched the drone against man, it has also been stated that you then and thereupon shot down said Terl when he was in the act of trying to shoot down the drone. However, there being witnesses, undoubtedly perjured and extorted by you to speak false testimony, who speak otherwise, the charges have not been included at this time, though of course they may be brought at some later date."

"So that's all you could come up with," said Jonnie, with irony. "Nothing about stealing babies' milk? I'm surprised!"

"You won't be so arrogant when you hear the rest of this," threatened Brown Limper. "I am an impartial judge and this is a legal and impartial court. In the interim time pending your trial, you are forbidden to use any more of my...l mean, Council property such as planes, cars, houses, equipment, or tools!"

Brown Limper had him! Quick as a flash he pulled out the bill of sale of the Earth branch of the Intergalactic Mining Company and thrust it at Tyler.

Tyler took it and looked at it. "For a sum of two billion credits, one Terl, duly authorized representative of the party of the first part which shall hereafter be called the party of the first part, did hereby convey all lands, mines, minesites, compounds, planes, tools, machinery, cars, tanks...on and on....to the Council of Earth, the duly elected and authorized government of said planet, to have and to hold forever and from this day forward." It was signed "Terl," but Jonnie, who knew Terl's signature, saw that it must have been written with the wrong paw. He started to put it in his pouch.

"No, no!" shouted Brown Limper. "That is the original!" He fussed around in the papers on his desk and handed over a copy and exchanged it for the original. Jonnie put the copy in his pouch.

"And not only that," said Brown Limper, "the whole planet was the property of Intergalactic and there is a deed for that as well!" He started to hand over the original, thought better of it, found a copy, and handed it over.

Jonnie glanced at it. Terl had actually sold these fools their planet!

"The deeds are valid," said Brown Limper pompously. "That is, they will be when fully recorded."

"Where?" said Jonnie.

"On Psychlo, of course," said Brown Limper. "Out of the goodness of his heart and in spite of the trouble, Terl himself will take these deeds there and get them fully recorded."

"When?" said Jonnie.