Keith Laumer: Zone Yellow

“Keep after him,” I directed. “Meanwhile, we have a town to liberate―or to inform that they’re already liberated.”

While Lst and I were making preparation to send out well-armed squads of three to spread the word, and incidentally locate useful supplies, Smovia came over and asked to go along, to identify the sick, and start getting them into some sort of improvised clinics until he could get to them.

“I’ll have to train some people to help me,” he confided. “I trust I have your approval, Colonel.”

I told him to go ahead, but to look sharp for trickery. He assured me he wasn’t interested in suicide, and showed me the heavy revolver he’d become attached to. “I’ll use it if I have to,” he assured me.

It was time for a council of war. I called the humans together, plus the Ylokk officers and non-coms, as I’d be relying heavily on them; not too heavily, I hoped. But the troops seemed to be highly motivated, especially since the attack, such as it was, on the barracks had showed them how willing their erstwhile comrades had been to fire on them.

“We have to be careful,” I told them, “not to be overconfident: so far we haven’t really faced any determined opposition by organized units, such as we can undoubtedly expect in the city.”

Major Lst wanted to say something, mainly to us humans: “My people,” he began, “though not practiced in the arts of war, are not lacking in intelligence, or in courage. It was Grgsdn who observed the constant strife among the humongs in those phases dominated by them; that gave him, he said, the concept of taking by force that which we desired―and what more desirable than a source of intelligent and vigorous slaves, to perform those chores that are beneath the dignity of the Folk,’ as he put it. The response was astonishing. First hundreds, then thousands flocked to hear him screaming his message of the eternal holiday; no more work, forever―coupled with an unheard-of abundance of every kind of desirable goods.”

“That’s an incredibly naive concept,” Smovia commented. “Did he imagine these fierce warriors he so admired could not resist?”

“His intent was to overwhelm with numbers,” Lst explained. “Plus the new ‘weapons’―we had no word in our language―which rendered our troops irresistible, he declared.”

“And,” Helm contributed, “he could hardly expect to install his New Order until he had eliminated the old; thus the revolution and the kidnapping of little Minnie.”

“He must have remarkable charisma, this Grgsdn,” I remarked. “What’s he like?”

Lst didn’t know; he’d never seen him. Few had, it seemed; none in our army. His disciples spread the word, but Grgsdn himself stayed in hiding, adding the allure of mystery to his appeal.

“They were fools,” Lst snarled, “but please believe me: they are not representative of the Folk in general. The great majority would gladly return to the old ways, if there were a way. We shall provide that way.”

We talked it over at length and decided to move in openly, in a single column, with the human personnel in the center. Let the Two-Laws wonder what was happening. We’d surround and neutralize any detachment of Two-Law militia we encountered, and enlist as many as possible before moving on. We’d advance directly to the Skein technical compound and secure it, then invest the Palace, and relieve the Loyalists still defending it. When calm had been restored, we’d cap our fait accompli with the presentation of Her Highness the Princess.

“Then, maybe,” Gus grumbled, “we can give some thought to our own problems.”

“When we have secured the technical facilities,” I pointed out, “we can immediately .put an end to the flow of reinforcements for the invasion, and arrange for our own return home. And only when we hold the compound,” I emphasized. Finally old Gus had stopped griping, partly because of the belated realization that there would be no massa-ere of “rats,” and partly because he was beginning to understand that it really wouldn’t be a good idea.

Smovia, having administered his medicine to all the sick troops in our bunch, was more relaxed, and indeed eager to get on with it. For their part, the soldiers, seeing their dying comrades restored to full health, tended to regard the Doc as a magician, and to be very protective of him. I felt a little bad about what I had to do.

We commandeered backpacks from the supply-room attached to the barracks, packed them with food, sleeping gear, and whatever else anybody wanted to carry. In a shed behind the supply-room, there was a cache of human-made clothing and small items like watches and pocket-knives. Lst told us it was a two-mile hike to the center of town. We started at dawn, well-rested, watered and fed. Three fellows were still sick and we left them behind.

The inner-city wall was high and impressive, stoutly built of hewn stone with spikes on top. The gate was of plank-and-iron-strap construction, and guarded by a tall Ylokk in a fancy red-and-gold outfit, and armed with a Bofors hand-cannon he didn’t seem to know how to hold. He kept peering down the three-inch barrel while fiddling with the firing mechanism. His head was still intact, however, when I followed Major Lst up to him. He gave the major a casual look, and switched his gaze to me, until Lst barked what sounded like “Hsst!” followed by a rusty-spring squeal. Then the sentry snapped-to and almost dropped the cannon. Lst grabbed it and checked it over expertly.

“Fine weapon,” he commented to me. “Clever recoil mechanism.”

I agreed and helped him find the ceremonial-looking but functional key attached to the sentry’s belt, and we got the gate open. Nobody jumped out and said “Boo!,” and we filed through unchallenged. I had the humans out as flankers now. The Jade Palace loomed, pale green as a jade palace should be, replete with crenellated towers, slim spires, flying granfallons, and ominous fire-slit openings through which their devastating disruptors could be aimed.

We came on like people who belonged there, and, following Lst’s directions, took the drive that swept around the side to the technical compound out back. A few Ylokk in lab coats who were lounging around outside the big front door looked curiously at us, but nobody made a move.

We bypassed the main entrance and took a footpath around to a small entry almost hidden by pink flowering shrubs. There were two businesslike Ylokk here in combat fatigues. They unlim-bered two-foot clubs and hung loose, watching us approach. Then the one with the green back-stripe squealed something and Lst replied with a squeal of his own. He spoke softly and both of the guards snapped-to, turned to unlock the door, and disappeared inside.

“What were the magic words?” I asked him.

“I told them the truth,” he said. “They know me, of course. We are the escort of Her Highness. I gave the impression her retinue would be along shortly―” He broke off because the advance guard of a howling mob burst into view coming around the other side of the building. They had clubs and looked plenty mad.

Swft suddenly appeared at the front of our column. As soon as he had realized who we were, he had broken his cover and joined us. Taking in the situation, Swft went to meet the mob. A tall Two-Law sergeant in the front rank raised his club. Swft took it away from him and barked an order. Some of the oncoming crowd shied away from him and flowed past on both sides.

Smovia whistled softly and said, “That is one tough rat.”

“Look out, Swft!” I yelled, and moved up, with Helm beside me, to take out a couple of enterprising Two-Laws who had ducked in behind the general. But two more rushed him from the flank; he nailed one with the borrowed club and the other backed off, just in time for another pair to volunteer from his right. Andy and I intercepted them, and old Gus charged past us and took the offensive.