Mack Reynolds - The Space Barbarians

“So?” the skipper said.

“So we’ll set down in the territory of some other confederation and start all over again.”

“Start what?”

“Subverting institutions, to put it bluntly. Somewhere we’ll find a phylum that’s just taken such a licking from a neighbor that they’ll accept our offer of repeating rifles.”

Harmon said, “By the way, where are we getting anything as primitive as repeating rifles and submachine guns? The only place I’ve ever seen such things was in historical fiction shows.”

“Don’t be a dully. We could take half a ton of platinum to any of the frontier planets, and they’d tool up and whomp them up for us in a week’s time.”

“Why not more sophisticated weapons?” the nervous voice said.

“You’re being particularly dense today, Perez. We don’t want to give them the sort of firepower that’d enable them to work us over.”

“I guess you’re right.”

The skipper’s voice said, “And what if we find the same thing elsewhere that we ran into here? That none of these phyla, or whatever you call them, will sign over their mineral rights?”

DeRudder’s voice went suave. “Skipper, there are ways. Obviously, we must abide by the League Canons, but at this distance, that will be no problem. And we can take a page from early Earth history. There are ways for, ah, civilizing backward peoples whether they want to be civilized or not. Remember the European pilgrims and pioneers and the Amerinds? For instance, I note that they have a distilled spirit here they call uisgebeatha , and, believe me, it’s potent. Very well, where you have potent nip, you’ve got people who are hooked on it. All we have to do is find a sachem or so hooked on uisgebeatha , get him binged and have him sign over mineral rights to us.”

His voice expressing interest, Harmon said, “How do you know that under local laws the sachems have such power?”

“What do we care? They’re kind of a chief, aren’t they? With the papers signed by one or two sachems, we can go to one of the less punctilious planets and get some military beef to back up our legal rights.”

The skipper said heavily. “Mr. DeRudder, I can see you missed your calling. But what if we can’t find any such sachems?”

DeRudder laughed. “In that case, Skipper, maybe well elect one or two of our own. Once the chaos starts, who can say who the legal sachems are, and who aren’t?

“Just a minute,” Harmon said abruptly. His heavy boots sounded on the floor, as he moved rapidly across the room toward the door behind which John of the Hawks stood.

But some instinct had warned John a split second before. He spun and scurried across the room to the door to the long hall and was through it before the other could expose him.

In the hall, he shot his eyes up and down, having no immediate plan of action. Where would he find the Sachem of the Hawks? Obviously…

He was saved the problem.

Through the door to the living quarters of his family stepped DeRudder. On spotting John, he whipped his side-arm from its holster.

“All right, boy,” he said. “Step in here.”

John of the Hawks looked at him. “I have no fear of your weapon,” he said. “A shout and my kynsmen will be upon you.”

“But you will be very dead by that time, boy.”

“I am not afraid to die. I am a Hawk.”

DeRudder hefted the gun up and down. “However, you have seen what the weapon could do. Would you expose your relatives to it?”

John thought about that only briefly. He stepped forward. DeRudder stood to one side, the gun trained, as John entered the room where the others from Beyond were gathered.

He stood there before them defiantly.

DeRudder closed the door behind him and said, “The overgrown dully’s been snooping. What’ll we do with him?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Perez said quickly. “The fat’s fixing to be in the fire before we know it.”

The skipper looked at John, remaining seated in the same chair he had been in the day before. He said. “How much did you hear, son?”

“Do not call me son. I am not kyn of yours.”

“Oh, belligerent, eh? Not quite the same polite boy you were yesterday.” The skipper looked at DeRudder and then to the other two of his officers. “If you’ve got anything around here, gather it up quick. We’re going back to the Golden Hind .”

DeRudder jerked his head at John. “What do we do with our empty friend, here?”

The skipper considered it, his face dour. Finally he said, “Bring him along. We can use a hostage. Besides, I’d like one of them to question a little more. Half of this whole setup leaves me blank.”

“Let’s get going,” Perez said.

“I refuse to go with you,” John said.

DeRudder chuckled. “Boy,” he said, “you remember the beam that came out of this gun when I shot it up into the sky? Believe me, with it, in ten minutes I can cut down this whole pint-sized village of yours.”

The skipper said gruffly, “And it’s not the only gun we’ve got on hand, son. Come along.”

John said, “Ten minutes is a long time. The clannsmen of Aberdeen are not slinks.”

Harmon grunted contempt. “And they’re not in Aberdeen, either. Practically nobody but women and children are in Aberdeen. Half of your men are still out chasing Thompsons or whatever you called them. The other half have already taken off to raid another town. You Caledonians seem to spend most of your time butchering each other.”

“So if there’s any fighting,” DeRudder said, “it’ll largely be with women and children, eh? Well, boy…”

“I will come,” John said.

DeRudder made a mocking gesture with the gun. “After you, John of the Hawks. Our groundcar is parked behind the building, in that area you use for your saddle animals that are in immediate use. Take us there by the shortest route. And careful, boy. The slightest trick and we unlimber our artillery and shoot our way out.”

John didn’t know what the word “artillery” meant, but he could guess. He said stiffly, “I told you I would come. And even though you are not my clannsmen, I do not lie to you.”

He led the way out into the long hall and down it to the entry that led to the paddock. They passed only three or four fellow residents of the Hawk community house as they went, and none of these were clannsmen. Harmon had been right. The men of the Clann Hawk were highly occupied.

In the paddock, John’s eyes widened, whether he would or not. The vehicle there was a far cry from anything he had ever expected to see on Caledonia. It was of metal, streamlined and beautiful. There were two doors, one on each side, and several windows. There were no wheels, which mystified him.

Perez opened one of the doors, saying, “Let’s get out of here,” although obviously that was exactly what they were already doing.

DeRudder said to John, “Take off that belt, boy. I think we’d better relieve you of that set of toad stickers.”

John kept his shame to himself as he turned over his claidheammor and skean.

The skipper motioned him inside, and he entered the vehicle from Beyond and took a seat in the rear. There was seating for ten persons and ample room for luggage or whatever to the rear.

The others got in, the officer named Harmon behind a set of bewildering dials and switches and a small wheel.

In spite of the position he was in, John of the Hawks was fascinated.

The others settled themselves, and Harmon dropped a lever. There was a faint hum, and John’s stomach turned over in surprised rebellion as the heavy craft lifted slightly from the ground. Harmon trod upon another gadget, and they began moving forward.