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Updated: June 22, 2025
On the roof of a building across the street, two machine-guns were already firing into the mob. From up the street, a hundred-odd saurian-faced native soldiers were coming at the double, bayonets fixed and rifles at high port; with them ran-several Terrans. Motioning his companion to follow, von Schlichten ran to meet them, falling in beside a Terran captain who ran in front.
That was about twenty minutes ago; at last report, she's fifty miles north of Keegark, headed up the Hoork River." Von Schlichten started thinking aloud: "That could be a feint, to draw our ships north after her, and leave the approach to Konkrook or Kankad's open, but that would be presuming that they know about the Sky-Spy, and I doubt that, though not enough to take chances on.
Von Schlichten threw back the canopy and jumped out of the car, O'Leary and M'zangwe behind him. There was another aircar, a dark maroon civilian job, at the curb; its native driver was slumped forward over the controls, a short crossbow-bolt sticking out of his neck. Backed against the closed door of a house, a Terran with white hair and a small beard was clubbing futilely with an empty pistol.
It seemed to satisfy her, as the aircar let down on the hospital landing stage. But it didn't satisfy von Schlichten. He could smell trouble brewing. Just what could the geeks do with a dog? Nothing, so far as he could tell but they didn't go in for such behaviour without what they considered good reason. Good for them, that is!
Von Schlichten described the situation succinctly, in an ancient and unprintable military cliche. "Try landing south of the Reservation, a little west of the ruins of the labor-camp," he advised. "The bulk of Firkked's army is in that section, and I want them run out as soon as possible. We'll give you all the contragravity and fire support we can."
"We ought to raze that city as flat as a football field, and then play football on it with King Orgzild's head." "Any special reason?" von Schlichten asked. "In addition to the Blount-Lemoyne massacre, that is?" "I should say so, general!" Themistocles M'zangwe backed Meyerstein up. "Bob, you tell him." Colonel Robert Grinell, the Intelligence officer, got up and took the cigar out of his mouth.
"That brings up another question, general," one of Keaveney's subordinates said. "Can we hold out long enough for help to get here from Terra?" "By the time help could reach us from Terra," von Schlichten replied, "we'll either have this revolt crushed, or there won't be a live Terran left on Ullr." He felt a brief sadistic pleasure as he watched Keaveney's face sag in horror.
He picked up the phone and punched the wavelength of the military airport. "Von Schlichten; my compliments to Colonel Jarman. Tell him there's a geek mob, or possibly Firkked's regulars, on the main highway from Skilk, two miles east of the Reservation. Get some combat contragravity over here, at once. We'll light them up for you.
He could have learned to read at one of those schools Mohammed Ferriera set up, ten or fifteen years ago." "And Dr. Gomes and Dr. Murillo and Dr. Livesey left papers and plans lying around all over the place," Paula added. "If he went to Niflheim as a spy, he could have copied almost anything." "Well, there you have it," von Schlichten said.
Grinell went on to elaborate, while von Schlichten tried to keep the impatience out of his face. Beside him, Paula Quinton was fidgeting, too; she was thinking, as he was, of what King Orgzild and Prince Gorkrink were doing now.
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