Keith Laumer - Zone Yellow

“I had hoped to make contact with the general,” Lst said. “It was our plan―I speak of the loyalist troops―to rally on him and retake the capital.”

“We can still do it,” I told him. “Any ideas?”

“I meant to recruit any escaped slaves I could find, march them back, and then, when the Two-Laws turned out to formally receive the runaways, to fall on them all together,” Lst said. “Would you have the general checked and a report of his condition made?”

“Sounds all right to me,” I said. I asked Andy and Smovia if they saw any flaw, from what they knew of the situation in town.

Smovia couldn’t think of any and went over to check on the general still unconscious in the cart.

“The Two-Laws always make a big thing of parading recaptured slaves,” Helm told me. “The whole gang will be there, intent on strutting around, showing how superior they are. Lst is right: that’s the time to take them, from both sides at once!” He was so full of enthusiasm that he forgot to apologize for expressing his opinion.

Smovia returned and told me we were on our own for a while, as the general was going to be out of it for a while longer.

I asked Lst if he thought Bnk could get Swft to safety with other loyalist troops, while we carried his plan out.

Lst talked to Bnk for about ten minutes, then assigned two troopers to him and sent them off. He explained to me that there were loyalists on the grounds of the Jade Palace, and that they would be safe there, and have Swft taken care of, by morning.

We withdrew into the woods for a little R and R, prepared to do or die at dawn.

Cheerful old Gus came over and muttered for a while until I told him that if he had something to say, to speak up.

“You ain’t trusting these here rats, are you?” he demanded. “I say let’s slit their throats while they’re asleep.”

“You,” I told him, “will, by God, shut up and get busy following your orders. I have neither the time nor the inclination to bother with your neuroses, Gus. Go get some sleep and don’t hatch any dumb ideas.”

After he’d lumbered away, Smovia spoke up: “You could have been a bit more diplomatic, Colonel. Gus is a lout, but we’ll need him in a fight.”

“Did you notice him during the last fracas?” I asked Doc. “He tackled one fellow and got knocked down. He didn’t try again. I think he’s as gutless as loudmouths usually are.”

Smovia let it go at that. After what seemed like a very short time, Marie woke me for my turn at guard duty. She was cold to the bone and so was I, but we couldn’t risk a fire; the Two-Law constabulary would be patrolling the area, Ben assured me. Finally dawn came, and five minutes later we were on the march―not on the road, of course, but following trails Andy showed me. We passed houses, built low and usually partly dug-in, showing neglect. I saw a party of humans in the distance, headed into the woods for another day of doing the Two-Law people’s work for them; their Ylokk escort was close on their flank. We lay low until they were well past.

I asked Andy how many slaves were in the town. He estimated fifty. The Two-Law cadre was about the same size. I asked him if he thought the humans would rally to us when they saw what was happening. He was dubious. “They’re a long way from home, sir,” he explained on their behalf.

“They’re apathetic. I managed to talk to a couple of them, but they didn’t seem interested.”

“I’m wondering,” I told him, “why you and Doc weren’t pressed into a work gang as soon as you appeared in town.”

“We got there ahead of the Two-Law rebels, sir,” he told me. “Doc had his kit and he treated a couple of sick pups and they recovered. Their folks protected me from the Two-Laws when they arrived; everybody seemed to know about the slave-raids and they knew we were the species being enslaved, but they didn’t approve. They were expecting the Royal Guard to show up at any moment to run the rebels off. They hid us and fed us and treated us as well as they could under the circumstances.”

Meanwhile, we had things to do. Marie pointed out that we ought to have gathering baskets, and she showed us the kind of grass they were woven of and how to weave them. It took us half an hour, good old Gus bitching all the while.

Baby, or Minnie as we called her about half the time (she liked the name) thought it was all grand fun, and quickly filled her basket with wildflowers, and I had to ask her to dump them and fill it with nuts and berries instead, at Doc’s suggestion: the Two-Laws wouldn’t take kindly to slaves wasting their time plucking daises. I put her at the end of Major Lst’s column. (The name I render “Lst” was actually more like “List,” with the first consonant on an indrawn breath, but even he knew who I meant when I said “List.” I would never be fluent in Ylokk: too many gasping sounds and squeals.)

Little Minnie, in her soldier’s coat, looked enough like a young male recruit to get by. I told her to take to cover at the first indication of attack. She agreed, but actually I think she had rather enjoyed hitting a bit Two-Law sergeant over the head in our last set-to when he attacked Doc, though she tended him carefully after it was over; now she was his pal, sort of a mascot to the squad. That was good for morale, mine as well as theirs.

The sun was high and warm now. We sweated―we humans, that is―and were glad we didn’t have to wear overcoats. The troops didn’t seem to mind, even Minnie. Our new escorts were in good spirits; from what I could catch of their conversations in ranks, they expected to wipe up the rebels fast, and proceed to the capital to do the same there.

I warned Lst to keep them under control, with no indiscriminate looting or rough stuff with the citizens. He assured me that their discipline was good, and that he realized we needed the townsfolk as allies.

We saw a small group of Ylokk with shovels, loafing under a tree up ahead. They looked our way and got to their feet as if to interfere.

“Two-Law trash,” Lst told me. I told him to form up his boys in a box around us, his supposed captives. When he had done so, he hurried ahead, and one of the loafers moved out as if to intercept him. Lst feinted left, then whipped his torso around like Swft had done and knocked the fellow ten feet, where he lay kicking and gasping. Lst snapped a command at the others, and they sullenly set to work digging a long, narrow grave. Lst gestured and they picked up their erstwhile pal, still wheezing, and threw him in. When the hole was backfilled, Lst told them to stamp on it, to pack down the loose dirt.

“Pretty rough, wasn’t that, Lst?” I suggested.

He showed his incisors in a snarl. “That’s all these trash can understand,” he stated flatly.

“Hey,” Gus spoke up beside me. “Maybe this here rat is OK.”

I was still uncomfortable. I told Lst to exhume the living soldier. He complied, complaining. The buried rat came up out of the dirt, clawing his way through the final layers of clods. Suddenly, his old pals were pals again, crowding around him to help dust the dirt from his narrow shoulders.

“Good work, Colonel,” Helm said quietly. “Saved me coming back to dig him up before he suffocated.”

The congratulatory group and the object of their welcome-back came over to talk to Lst. He interpreted:

“They liked that; say they were really scared old Crt had had it; good to meet an officer who knows how to handle troops. They want to join my command. They suggested we kill all you slaves, just for fun. Especially you, Colonel. I told them I had a job for you: that we’re headed for the capital to kick Grgsdn out and restore the good old days. They liked that and wanted to join us. I told them ‘all right.’ They’re enlisted. That makes twenty-six. We’re making progress.”