The Problem Makers Page 4
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Team B was dead on its feet when the copter finally returned to Basewith the first rosy glow of dawn lightening the horizon. They stumbledto the ground, as sorry a looking group as Luke Royceton had ever seen.Their masquerade of grime and war paints was nearly obscured by anhonest layer of general dirt. They filed into wardrobe and stripped offtheir clothes, leaving them in ragged piles on the floor. Then they hitthe showers, luxuriating under the needle sprays and the caress of soapsliding over their skin.
The discarded costumes were gone when they emerged, feeling closer tohuman, twenty minutes later. In place of the animal hides were shorts,doublets and the calf-length boots of Base-centered personnel.
All were more than happy to be back in uniform.
Luke stopped outside wardrobe for a moment, then started towardsHeadquarters, a building distinguished from the dozen other prefabsof Base only by the pennant flying from the peak. The buildings werearranged in an irregular circle around the copter field, nestled inthe most hidden valley of the planet's single range of hills highenough to be graced with the name of mountains. The highest peak in therange, visible over the one directly behind Headquarters, toward barelya thousand feet.
On a world less primitive, the range would never have served itspresent duty.
The world _was_ primitive, however. Man had advanced but a fewfaltering steps beyond the level of the cave. Ecology had estimatedthe native human population not to exceed three million people overthe entire globe, and cheerfully admitted that their estimate was madewith every benefit of doubt given to the natives. Quite possibly noteven half that number roamed the vast plains of the temperate zones, orbreeded in the opulence of the equatorial jungles. As yet, populationpressures had not driven men into the colder climes of the north andsouth. None had been spotted more than five hundred miles from theequator.
Luke checked in with the Orderly Room before reporting on to thedebriefing room. He slumped onto a couch and propped his feet on alow coffee table. The other four team commanders were there ahead ofhim. One brought him a cup of coffee. He accepted it with thanks, andinhaled the bitter smell of the brew before draining half of it. Thefiery liquid burned into his stomach and scorched away some of thetensions built up during the night.
”Rough night, Luke?” asked Andy Singer, sitting next to him.
”The roughest. We hit seventeen villages between sunset and sunrise.”
”That is a load. My team only hit seven. But you were working the bigriver stretch, weren't you?” Luke nodded, as he sipped again at hiscoffee. ”I thought so. We were lucky. We had the west plains. Thereisn't too much water over there, couple little creeks and a few holes.These locals don't stray too far from water.”
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”We hit half a dozen good-sized places,” said Luke. ”One of them musthave had thirty-five families. For a minute, I thought we were going tohave to kill a few of them, but it ended up okay. Nobody hurt, exceptfor one of my boys who stayed a second too long in a hut.” He chuckled.”Got the seat of his pants burned off--a new kid, just out from theAcademy. The rest of the night, he was the fastest man I had.”
”Proves what I said about water. Biggest place I hit had seven houses,and most of them only had two or three.”
Luke started to say something more, but just then the door opened andthe Base Commandant came in. The Team commanders stood up respectfully,but none had the energy to properly snap to attention. He smiled as hemounted the low platform to the front of the room.
”At ease, gentlemen.” Gratefully, the commanders sat back down andresumed their earlier positions of comfort. The Commandant pouredhimself a glass of water from a ready pitcher and drank it, then gavehis full attention to the room.
”First, gentlemen, let me congratulate you on a successful night'soperation. I congratulate all of you, but particularly CommanderRoyceton and Team B. They rolled up the enviable total of seventeenvillages destroyed.”
Luke flushed, feeling like a fresh-out-of-Academy Cadet as the othersraised their coffee cups in his direction.
”None of you spent the evening slacking, of course,” continued theCommandant. He was a middle-aged man; the empty sleeve pinned to hisshoulder told why he had been booted out of field duty while men twentyyears his senior were still leading teams. ”Total score for the night:fifty-seven villages. Commander Royceton merely had more fertile areato work in. As we move out from the Base I know you will all have equalopportunities to prove your prowess with the torch.” An appreciativemurmur ran through the little group.
”Now I know you're all tired, gentlemen, and anxious to hit the sack.I won't keep you much longer. I just want to emphasize the importanceof our mission on this world. Many of your men don't like making theseraids on the natives. They would rather be roaming the far starlanes,putting down pirates and other glorious deeds of derring-do. But youmen are not cadets; there isn't a one of you without twenty years fieldservice time. You know the real glory comes from satisfaction in a jobwell done. It is up to you to transfer that feeling of satisfaction tothe malcontents within your ranks. Tonight you go out again; and youwill continue to do so until every single village on this planet hasbeen razed to the ground! If so much as one single village is permittedto escape, then we have failed. I do not like failure; you do not likefailure. Working together, we can see to it that failure as a worddisappears from the language. I thank you, gentlemen. Dismissed.” Hestepped down and strode rapidly from the room. Behind him the audiencerose and burst into talk.
III
Sam Carter moaned silently. He tried for the hundredth time since thejourney began to shift his legs into a position where the insideswould not be rubbed raw by the rough hair of his horse-like mount. Heresolved for the dozenth time that one of the ”inventions” he wouldimport from the southern provinces would be a good, comfortable saddle.
Another would be silk; the rough fabrics worn by Kahl's subjects were afair substitute for the mount's hide.
”Ho, southerner!” Prince Kahl wheeled his mount back from the head ofthe column and waited until Sam had caught up, then he fell in besidehim. ”How goes it? Does my second favorite mount suit you well?”
”Very well indeed, graciousness,” said Sam. ”I cannot in honesty recallwhen I've had a more--_ouch!_--instructive ride!”
”Good!” Kahl leaned over and slapped him on the shoulder. ”You'll beglad to know we've but three more hours to go before reaching thesummer palaces.”
”Only, uh, three more hours?” The sinking sensation in Sam's stomachhad nothing at all to do with the undulating motion of his beast. ”Ah,that is good news, your graciousness. We'll be there almost before weknow it.”
Sam wished Kahl would go away and leave him to his misery, but theprince seemed disposed to talk. ”I think there will be many surprisedfaces in my father's court tonight. Eh, southerner?” He chuckled, andthen burst into raucous laughter as he considered the idea further.”And to think, it will all be perfectly legal! You have the paperssafe, my friend?”
”Yes, your graciousness,” said Sam, sighing and patting his saddlebags.
”Good! Don't lose them--I'd hate to see you missing your head!” Helaughed again, while Sam's stomach turned several more flipflops. ”Thesight of blood always did make me sick.”
There were sixteen men in the mounted party, including a dozen ofKahl's private guard, the captain of the troop and the High Priestof the Sun God, the nation's officially sponsored religion. The HighPriest was a little old man, bent over more from age than from thediscomforts of the journey. Originally Sam had planned for one moremember, but that had become unnecessary when he learned that the HighPriest was also President of the Royal College of Chirurgeons. Thelatter role was even more important to his plans than the former. Nowall that worried Sam was the possibility that the priest might not liveto the end of the journey. He was inflicted with a hacking cough thatsent chills racing up and down Sam's spine every time he went i
nto afit.
Kahl grew weary of bantering small talk with a man really fit to comeup with witty replies. He wheeled his horse again and dropped backto the end of the column for a moment, saying something to the HighPriest, then he spurred his mount back to the head of the line, fallinginto his original position beside the Captain of the Guard. The two menwere soon lost in reminiscences that had bored Sam to tears, every timehe had been an unwilling audience.
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Another hour passed miserably, while the sun mounted to the zenith andbegan the long summer afternoon drop back down to the horizon. Themembers of the Guard and Kahl pulled short stubby loaves of bread andcheese from their saddle bags and munched as they rode on, washing thefood down with vigorous pulls at the wine-skins that took the placeof water canteens on the planet. Sam had first thought the constantimbibing of alcohol to be a national vice. Then he ran tests on half adozen waterholes. Thereafter he drank wine himself.
Now, however, he was completely without an appetite. Looking back overhis shoulder, he saw that the priest was in the same boat. Suddenly,without knowing why, he pulled his mount up and waited until the priestcaught up with him, then fell in at the end of the column.
”How goes it, Reverence?”
The priest looked up, watery