Keith Laumer - Zone Yellow

“You’d best play along, Lieutenant, if you hope to survive the day. The others are at hazard, too.”

“Djaveln!” Helm spat. “We’ve already shown these rats who’s in charge!”

“We can’t beat the entire garrison, Andy,” Swft told him. “They’ve no doubt called for reinforcements. In a few moments, we’ll be surrounded by two hundred trained policemen.”

Andy looked at me.

“You heard the general,” I told him. “You also heard me, I think. We’re under cover, Lieutenant, passing as slaves. Get with the program.” He complied reluctantly.

The sergeant―his name turned out to be Dvd―was back on his feet, sounding indignant. Swft barked a command at him and went on to the next Ylokk. It took him ten minutes to get them all in line, with the sergeant’s assistance; then he held a conference with the non-com and left him to shape up the detail in a column of twos. By that time, we could see Ylokk out on the road, standing at the ready, while their OIC talked into a hand-held talker. Swft said, “Wait here, if you will, Colonel,” and went over toward them. They came to a sloppy alert, but snapped-to when they got a good look at that red stripe. He had a short talk with the captain and turned to yell back to Sergeant Dvd, “Bring them out.”

Dvd rather sheepishly gestured to me to fall in, and at my request, Gus, Ben and Marie lined up, and Smovia, Helm and I got in place beside them. Baby was talking to a cop with a bloody nose, and gave him a hanky to wipe it. Dvd got his boys back in a row and gave the “move out” signal. We dutifully shuffled out into the sunlight, trying to look like homeless chattels who were sorry they’d ever run away. The captain bought it. He could see the signs of a struggle, but had no way of knowing who’d won it, except the lies Swft was telling him.

“…attempted to resist,” the general was saying. “I explained to the sergeant that I required these humongs for my own work, and…”

I brought our little band to a foot-shuffling halt and looked at Dvd, as if for orders.

“Colonel, we can take this bunch, too,” Helm muttered to me. “There’s only twenty-four of ‘em. Let me―”

“You’ll receive your instructions, Lieutenant,” I whispered back. “Maybe a little of that Prussian discipline would be in order after all.”

Swft turned to snap an order at Dvd, who turned hard on me and squealed, “Silence!” We silenced.

Swft went over and spoke quietly to Baby; then he took one of the long overcoats from one of the smaller cops, and helped her into it. That was a good idea; now she could mix with the troops and look unexceptional. We moved closer to the newly-arrived Ylokk, trying to discourage them from looking too closely at the row of sheepish-looking Ylokk ostensibly guarding us. Swft was tete-a-tete with the captain. After a brief conference, the latter motioned his NCOIC over and gave him orders. The new squad fell in and right-faced and went around us into the woods and began pushing our captives around.

Swft objected sharply. The captain gave orders and in a moment the two groups were lined up side by side. Swft came over and told me, “I told Captain Fsk to place these fellows under arrest,” he notified me. “Insubordination,” he explained, “and incompetence.”

“These reinforcements don’t seem very motivated,” I commented. “Whose side are they on?”

“They’re not quite sure, actually,” Swft confided. “They’re trained regulars, and are hesitant to take orders from these newly-arrived gangs of ne’er-do-wells; they recognize my rank, and so far that’s been enough to keep them off balance. I told them it’s an Imperial exercise; they are, after all, under my command, and I’m playing it by ear. Please continue to cooperate, Colonel, and we may bring this off yet.”

After a considerable amount of confusion and some vocal disagreements among the rank and file, Captain Fsk got the whole bunch in line, four abreast, grumbling abreast, grumbling but obedient.

“Move out, Captain,” Swft ordered, and urged us slaves ahead.

We dutifully took our position, but Gus commented, “I hope we’re not being suckered, Colonel. I don’t trust these damn squirrels, none of ‘em!” He was looking hard at Swft.

“General Swft is dedicated to the overthrow of the group that’s backed the invasion,” I told him. “Actually, it’s a slave-raid, rather than a true invasion.”

“When I see them damn squirrels pushing people off the sidewalk,” he returned hotly, “and strutting in to take all the tables at my favorite cafe, I call it an invasion.”

“What do you want, Gus?” I asked him. “To put an end to the invasion, or just show off what a hell of a man you are?”

“Run ‘em out,” he conceded. “If play-acting will help, I’ll do it.”

“You sure will,” I confirmed. We were catching a bad smell from up ahead. We shuffled along in silence, and in a few minutes we saw masonry houses looming above trimmed trees, and came into the edge of what should have been a pleasant little town. The street was lined with tall, shabby masonry buildings with broken windows and missing cornices. But the dead were everywhere: lying on the walks and in the streets, stacked in alleys. It looked as if at first there had been some attempt to pile them up neatly, but later they’d just thrown them into heaps. Bones, mostly, but enough fresh corpses to show the Killing was still active. As I watched, a body fell from a high window, impacted in the street, and lay anonymously among the others.

I saw a feeble movement in a nearby pile. Someone was alive in there and trying to get out. I took an automatic step in that direction, but Swft caught my arm. “Colonel,” he said stiffly, “we have no time for kindly gestures.”

I felt an impulse to apologize, but I realized I was being influenced by the local paradigm; so I gave Swft a fierce look, and said, “I understand the needs of this force, General.”

A Ylokk came out of a shop that looked like small shops look everywhere. He glanced up, saw us, and let out a screech, as if he’d just discovered the town was on fire. Other rats appeared, forming up in a crescent-shaped barrier. Swft spoke to the captain; he barked an order and his troops hurried up to form up in two columns alongside us six “prisoners.” Swft came over and told me this was disgraceful; that the interference of the Two-Law squads had so far destroyed civil order that the mob felt it was appropriate to interfere with what was clearly an official detail guarding captive humongs. He stamped away to confront the still-gathering crowd and to deliver a short, deadly-sounding speech. The excited townsfolk began to drift away.

Then two burly, wharf-rat types pushed through to the front rank. One of them pointed at Andy, and both of them started toward him. Swft ordered them to stay clear. They ignored him. He waited until they were abreast of him, and abruptly bent forward, swinging his long torso sideways, and whipped it around, knocking both the troublemakers off their feet. A few of the crowd seemed to object, but most of them yelled something equivalent to “Bravo!” Swft went over and yanked the bigger of the two to his feet and spat words in his face, then threw him aside. The other scuttled away, yapping over his narrow shoulder at the mob as they parted to let him through.

“He’ll fetch the rest of the garrison,” Swft said. “I need to get you people out of sight, Colonel.”

That suited me. The muttering crowd was in a lynch mood; they just weren’t sure whom to lynch: the hated gang who had intruded on their peaceful lives, the representative of the old and presumably discredited order, or the humongs. We followed Swft’s gestures into a dim-lit interior, while he formed his bunch into a defensive square, covering the doorway. The townspeople were rapidly dispersing. Swft joined us inside what appeared to be a restaurant, and gave orders to a scared-looking old rat with a gray-tipped pelt. We sat down on the too-low benches and in a moment a young ratess put long wooden trenchers full of some kind of stew in front of us. It smelled neutral.