"We ain't gonna worry about the hoverer," said the man with the gun. "Why don't you jes' get out so I don't have to worry 'bout you drivin' off all of a sudden? You don't wanna go makin' me jumpy, do you?"
"I reckon not," said Rev, his hands high above his head. "Looky here, of buddy, don't shoot-I'm jes' gettin' out, like you asked."
"That's a smart feller," said the rebel, nodding. He watched Rev get out, motioned him off to one side with the gun barrel, then said, "OK, next out-you with the bowler hat, there. Shake a leg."
"Very well," said Beeker. "Please be careful where you point that weapon. I'm afraid my health insurance doesn't cover acts of war, and I fear that any injury I receive under these conditions might be construed as such."
Two other armed rebels showed up while the man with the gun directed Phule and Okidata out of the hoverjeep. They gawked when they saw the Legion uniforms, but kept their weapons aimed at their captives, and managed to give the impression that they would fire if provoked. Nobody provoked them. When all four captives were standing together, hands raised, one of the newcomers whistled. "Whoo-ee, Buster, looks like you done made a real haul."
"He certainly has," said Phule. "Now, if you want to make the most of it, I suggest you take us to your superior officers."
"Suggestion noted," said Buster. He turned and spit into the underbrush, then said, "Durn if you ain't the fanciest bunch I seen in a while, though. Two of you in them black uniforms, and the other two wearin' their Sunday best, too. You all got the look of some kind o' face cards-what's your game, anyway?"
"We've come here to help you win," said Phule. "Now, will you take us to your officers?"
"Help us win?" said Buster, his eyes wide. "That's the damnedest proposition I've heard all month, and I keep some mighty strange company. What makes you think you can help us?"
"This," said Phule, pointing to the leather pouch strapped around his waist.
"Keep them hands up," said Buster. "What you got in there, anyway? If it's some kind of secret weapon, it's a mighty small one."
"Nothing secret about it," said Phule. "But it's the one weapon every fighting force needs more than any other. Now, if you'll take me to your superior, maybe he'll let you stick around while I open it up and show him. If you don't delay us unnecessarily, I'll even put in a good word for you."
Buster laughed. "The day I need a good word with the brass is gonna be a long time comin'. But I like your style, mister, so I'm gonna do what you say. This here vehicle oughta be safe right where it is. If you boys will just start walkin' along that trail, you ought to come to the camp in no time at all. Don't do anything rash, though-'cause I'll be right behind you."
"Believe me, friend, coming here was as rash an act as I'm prepared to engage in for some time to come," said Beeker. "We'll be greatly obliged if you keep it in mind that we are here under a flag of truce."
"I'll keep it in mind, long as nothin' happens to jar it out of my memory," said Buster. "Let's get a move on."
They started off along the jungle trail. Behind them, Buster began to whistle a jaunty melody. Phule trudged along, his hands held high. Perspiration had begun to soak his uniform, and the jungle flies swarmed around his face. It was inconvenient not being able to swat the flies, but Buster and his men might misunderstand any sudden notions. Off to the side, there was a droning chorus of spooky sounds-indigenous animals, he assumed. Presumably the creatures weren't dangerous. At least, the rebels seemed to pay them no mind. Then again, the rebels were armed, and he wasn't.
Faced with the reality of the jungle, Phule belatedly began to wonder if everything was going to be as easy as it had looked when he was planning it. If he'd miscalculated, he might have gotten himself in far worse trouble than he'd bargained for...
14
Journal #410
The first roller coaster on Landoor was built by an unemployed mining engineer, J.T. Dressage. Inspired by seeing youths in the mining towns taking daredevil rides on abandoned mine railroad cars, he purchased a quantity of track at salvage prices. Borrowing the money to buy a plot of land outside Landoor City, he built a ramshackle wooden trestle, and opened his ride-"the Daredevil." It caught the fancy of the public and, within a short time, Dressage had not only paid off his debts, but purchased fifty acres of adjacent land and expanded his operation to become the first of Landoor's theme parks.
The success of Dressage Park caught the eyes of several small businessmen, who pooled their savings and set up a rival operation south of the city-Dunes Park, with an even wider range of rides and attractions. Within a few years, no Landooran considered a vacation complete without a visit to one of the Atlantis theme parks. Indeed, they were the first enterprises on the planet developed without the participation of the Moguls. They (and the smaller parks that sprang up in their wake) thus became an important symbol of national pride to the Landoorans-the working people to whom the Moguls were alien princes with no roots in their world. This image was confirmed when the Moguls decamped to greener pastures and left Landoor to the Landoorans.
At that point, Landoor found itself with all the circuses it could ask for. But as they soon realized, there was a desperate shortage of bread. And therein lay the seeds of revolution...
The trail took Phule's group and their guards on a mildly strenuous hike through dense, steaming jungle, in which the occasional Earth-origin tree or animal could be spotted. (The original settlers appeared to have brought along a fair supply of parrots-or possibly a few escaped breeding pairs had been sufficient to start a population explosion.) The contrast between the slightly purplish local foliage and the brighter green Terran-import leaves made the walk unusually picturesque-although not quite enough so for Phule to stop worrying about his reception at trail's end.
At last, the trail crossed a little stream on stepping stones, and on the other side was the guerilla camp. Phule thought to himself that the camp was completely vulnerable to an air attack. Given the government's manifest eagerness to put the rebels out of business, the fact that they hadn't done so was proof of how thoroughly they had been disarmed.
There were a good number of two-person tents in camouflage colors-obviously off-planet in origin, since the hues clashed with the local vegetation. Open cooking fires were scattered at intervals among them. Here and there were small groups of armed men and women, sitting on the ground or engaged in various tasks, from cooking to construction of larger, more permanent buildings. There was nothing resembling a consistent uniform, although many appeared to have adopted the red bandanna as a quasiofficial badge.
Buster pointed to the center of the clearing, where a large tent stood next to an improvised pole bearing a colorful flag, different from the one flying over the government buildings: the rebel flag, no doubt. "That-a-way," he said. Phule and his group followed, drawing curious stares from the groups of rebels they passed on their way through the camp.
The main tent had an awning protecting a folding table at which sat a lean man with a fringe of stringy gray hair beneath a field cap. He wore the closest thing to a real uniform that Phule had seen so far, although it bore no recognizable insignia. He looked up as Buster herded Phule and his companions into the shade of the tent. "Who's this?" he said, squinting at the newcomers.
"Found 'em out in the woods," said Buster. "They drove right up in a hovercar, asked to see you. So here they are."
"Have they been searched or questioned?" said the man, looking at the uniformed legionnaires.