Eric Flint - Slow Train to Arcturus

"I saw it in a picture of old-time soldiers, " said Lani, when Howard protested. "And it makes sense. Your faces would show up."

Howard had learned one thing of great value in his relationship already. When she used that tone, he just did what she wanted. Besides, all over black hardly counted as "painted." He was sure that that was not what they'd meant in the Bible anyway. As for weapons.. .

Kretz offered laser pistols. While the alien put one on his belt, he kept hold of the automatic shotgun. Lani settled for extra clips for the pistol. Amber accepted a strap for her shotgun, Zoe had a short broad-barreled weapon from a secure stockpile in Icarus, as did the other two fliers. The uThani, after consideration, kept to bows and machetes. Howard stuck to his hands. "You either have enough weapons-or far too few," he said quietly. "At need I will carry and kill. But I think my hands are going to be needed. So let me keep them free."

Zoe grinned. "Not so, big 'un. We want you to take this pry-bar. We may need it, and it's heavy."

It probably was to light-boned fliers. And, in need, it made a weapon.

An hour after full darkness had fallen in the habitat, the portable showed only one person anywhere near the airlock. So they cracked it and went in. If the person was a guard, apparently he had settled down some distance away. They didn't even have to disturb him on their way to the arterial tunnel… although it was a close thing. Howard stumbled over something in the dark. He managed not to fall, and felt for the object to move it before anyone else fell. It was roundish and heavy and he ended up taking it with him, as they crept on through the dark.

The door to the arterial was securely locked. And it did not respond to Kretz's electronic tickling either. Kretz used his laser-pistol on the lock eventually, and Howard finished the job with the pry-bar. He set the round object down to do it, but being a neat worker by habit, he picked up again. It was only later, hunching down on the running board behind the pipe-checker that he took a proper look at it. And screamed before he could help himself. It leered at him. For a brief irrational moment he had thought that it was a real human head, instead of one severed from a statue.

"What did you bring that for?" asked Lani, looking at it. "That was what was used to jam the airlock."

"I tripped over it," explained Howard. "Then I picked it up before anyone else fell over it. What should I do with it?"

Lani shrugged. "Bring it along. You can always throw it at someone. If you leave it here it'll fall off and block the pipe-checker's tracks, probably."

So, when the pipe-checker was inside the sprawling complex that they were to discover was the beloved leader's palace, Howard had a head under his arm. Following Amber's instructions they walked through the vast place, avoiding people, moving closer to Abret.

The patrolling guard's torch was an unwelcome surprise. They were halfway across the square and there was nowhere to run to. Howard and the rest stood dead still. Howard hunched his shoulders and tried to pretend that he wasn't there. The torch-light swung across them… and stopped. On the head. The patrolling guard gasped. And the torch toppled to the floor.

"Howard, you nearly frightened me to death with that thing," said Dandani quietly, lowering the guard's body. "How you stop this light?"

"Put it under him," said Howard, not wanting to ask if the man was dead.

"Hokay. We go on?"

So they did. In the shadows between two buildings on the far side of the square they stopped to consult the portable again.

Amber pointed to the screen. "He's moving. Somehow he must have gotten out that cell."

"Where is he going?" asked Kretz.

In the dim glow from the screen Amber's frown was ferocious. "Towards the other alien."

"We have trouble. Serious trouble," said Lani.

The spark of revolution is more likely to come from ordinary things, like family or food, than it is to come from deep philosophical thought. That is the tinder, not the spark.

From: Elementary Societal Psychodynamics.

2089. James R. Grey (ed).

New Harvard Library (Pub.)

It was dark, and Ji was dressed all in black. He'd moved so quietly that Abret hardly heard him. It was obvious that the night jailor hadn't heard him at all. Ji had his keys. He opened the cell as quietly as possible.

"Are you ready, foreign devil?" he asked quietly.

Abret stood up. "As I'll ever be."

Abret knew he'd agreed to this. Now he was determined to try. How close they might get to Derfel was another matter. At least Abret knew he could die free and fighting.

Naked and cold, he walked out of his cell and down the passage, stepping over the fallen body of the jailor, and following his human guide up the passages. Ji at least knew where they had to go. Abret knew what he had to do if they got there. He played all the possibilities in his mind. Escape after that might not be possible, but at least he would not go mad behind the bars. After all, death was inevitable. It might as well be quick. And what had these humans-be they ever so vile at times-done to deserve Derfel?

They rounded the corner. There, coming towards them, were a group of the brown-uniformed guards. Already, it seemed, they had lost! He half-turned, only to hear voices behind him. And then he realized that the brown-uniformed ones were not aiming those weapons at him. They had stepped aside and were standing rigidly, weapons shouldered, a hand across the weapon in what was plainly some ritual gesture.

Feeling as if his legs might suddenly fail him, Abret walked on past, waving vaguely at them.

"What happened?" he asked, once they were around the next corner.

"They believe you to be the Great Leader," said Ji. "I did when I first saw you. The Great Leader does as he wishes."

For a moment Abret was insulted. He didn't look a bit like Derfel! Did all aliens look alike to them? Well, he'd struggled with telling the humans apart at first. On the positive side, they were still free. There was a remote-very remote-chance, that he could recover his suit and win free to the lifecraft. It could only go better… if he took brave steps.

"Where are those who command?" he said, amazing himself with own audacity.

Ji looked him in puzzlement. "Those who command?"

"Those who command the ones in brown," explained Abret.

"The officers? General Su-Jin commands the night-staff of the presidential guard."

"Let us go and see him."

"Are you mad too?"

"No. I want us to succeed. I will tell him to put his guards on the outside."

The black-clad Ji smiled. It was the first smile that Abret had ever seen from the grim-faced man. "You must say 'send all the guards to defensive positions in Perimeter One.' The Great Leader speaks our language better."

It suddenly occurred to Abret to be suspicious. "How do you know all of this? How do you do all of this?"

Ji shrugged. "Because I am a senior agent in the secret police. I have worked for the Great Leader for many years… until I brought my daughter to see the new Great Leader. She begged."

His face set hard again. "They are used to seeing me in these clothes here. I come to report my work at night."

The general, in his brown uniform spattered with red braid, did not seem surprised at the instruction, or Abret's company, or his state of undress. "It will be done immediately, Beloved Leader," he said holding his one hand rigidly, flat palm out from his odd headgear.

Abret did not risk saying any more. He just nodded and turned and left. He allowed Ji to lead him to an empty room a little farther up the passage. "We will give them five minutes," said Ji.

In the narrow gap between the two buildings Lani watched as the briskly trotting squads of brown uniformed soldiery headed past. "Something has stirred them up," she said.