Hansen nodded. "OK, little lady, why don't you stay on board and keep an eye out for the nutria, and the rest can put the guns on deck and just hang on. I'll get you there, all right." Luckily for him, Gnat was too preoccupied with the nutria to react to being called a little lady.
Do-Wop and Moustache took the weapons from the legionnaires in the water and piled them on the foredeck before grudgingly jumping over the side. Then Hansen gunned the engine-gently, so as not to open the leak any wider-and the boat limped over to the shore, where the crowd of onlookers had grown to half a dozen. There was no further sign of nutria.
At last the bayou grew shallow enough for the hangers-on to touch bottom, and they simply let go and began wading ashore alongside the boat.
Hansen pointed forward and said to Super-Gnat, "Grab that line and throw it to the boys on shore so's they can tie us up."
Super-Gnat put down her shotgun and turned to pick up the rope. When she turned around again, Hansen was pointing it toward her. "Now, young lady, don't get no ideas. I'm the only one with a gun now. I'd hate to use it on somebody so pretty."
You tricked us!" she said. "I bet you ran into that bar on purpose."
"No, ma'am, that was a mistake. But I ain't got as far in life as I have not takin' advantage of mistakes. Now, put them hands up, if you don't mind." The other spectators had begun swarming, on board and picking up the rest of the abandoned weapons.
Armstrong stopped and stared at him. "You're turning us over to the rebels!" he said, accusingly.
"Not exactly, mister," said Hansen. "I am a rebel. And I'm takin' you all to Le Duc Taep, so's he can decide what's what. You'll get your guns back the minute he says so. Till then, we ain't takin' no chances."
At that very moment, a large rodentlike creature came waddling down the bank from the woods to the water, about ten yards away from the group. "What the hell is that thing?" said Do-Wop.
"Aww, that's a nutria," said a bystander, who was now cradling a Zenobian stun ray. "Good eatin'. Don't mind him, they wouldn't harm a fly."
Super-Gnat turned accusingly to Hansen. "You lied about the nutria!"
Hansen grinned self-consciously. "Yeah, that, too," he said.
The dripping hostages were handcuffed, then marched along a narrow trail to the rebel base. Their captors kept them moving, but did not force the pace, and it was not much more than half an hour before the tents of Le Duc Taep's encampment came into view.
A guard hailed them as they came into view. "Who you got here, Hansen?"
"Bunch of soldiers came lookin' for the camp," said Hansen. "Don't know what their business is, but I ain't lettin' 'em come walkin' up with guns. Might somebody get hurt."
"You're going to get hurt if I ever get my hands on you," said Super-Gnat, glaring at Hansen.
"Them uniforms look like the ones that captain wears, the one Taep's been talking with all week," said the guard. "If they're his folks, he might not like 'em being cuffed."
"Well, if they're somebody's friends, they shouldn't come around wavin' artillery at people," said Hansen. "Taep can decide-that's his job, right? Come along, folks." And he waved them toward the command tent.
A young woman wearing a red bandanna over her thick, dark hair stood up at their approach. She was carrying an old hunting rifle. "Hello, Hansen," she said. "Taep's in a business meeting. You'll have to wait."
"In a business meeting?" said Hansen. "What the hell, Pilar, that ain't the way things used to be around here. Is Taep puttin' on airs in his old age?"
"He's getting smart in his old age," said a new voice. The newcomer wore the rebel uniform. The man who walked out of the tent right behind him wore Legion black.
"Taep!" said Hansen. "I didn't mean no offense."
"Captain!" said Armstrong, almost in the same breath. "Tell this man to-set us free."
"Do you know these people?" Taep raised an eyebrow and turned to Phule.
"I certainly do," said Phule. "Assuming they haven't done anything more serious than trying to find me, I hope you will set them free."
"Uh, maybe you could make an exception for the little lady, Taep. At least let me get a head start on her," said Hansen, looking apprehensively at Super-Gnat.
"This is my fault," said Phule, putting a hand on Taep's shoulder. "I owe everyone an apology. It seemed important to maintain secrecy, but I can see I've carried it too far. I should have known my people would come looking for me if I didn't report back, and that it could have been real trouble when they came in contact with your people."
"I understand the need for military secrecy," said Armstrong, massaging his wrists, which Hansen had uncuffed after a nod from Taep. "If my superior officer doesn't tell me something, I have to assume he has good reasons. Whatever brought you out here to meet the rebels has to have been pretty important, or you wouldn't have risked it.
"Well, yes," said Phule. "In fact, you arrived just as we were putting the finishing touches on it. The rebels have agreed to end their rebellion! Instead, they're going to return to Atlantis and enter into peaceful competition with the government."
"They have?" Armstrong's jaw fell. "That's brilliant, sir, absolutely brilliant. How did you manage to convince them?"
"Well, it wasn't all that hard, once I understood how people on this planet think," said Phule. "All I had to promise was that I'd help them build the galaxy's greatest roller coaster."
Journal #420
My employer's decision to do business directly with the rebels appeared to be a sound one. After his initial hostility, Le Duc Taep turned out to be far more a pragmatist than many of his followers. My employer was pleased to discover that Taep had a good grasp of details and a willingness to set aside dogma in favor of attainable goals. The two of them sat down to create a blueprint for the return of the rebel army to the mainstream of Landoor-as entrepreneurs.
Having settled the project's main outlines, my employer returned to the Legion base to begin his part in building the rebel amusement park. He began by securing title to a large plot of land directly across the road from the government's park. The actual owners were the rebel leaders, now reconstituted as a corporation-a status many of them found more congenial than camping in the jungle. Since the laws forbade off-planet citizens from owning shares in local businesses, my employer was constrained to act behind the scenes, making loans to the new park's owners, and bringing in outside experts to aid their enterprise.
Predictably, the government was not happy to learn this.
Phule had settled into a comfortable rhythm on the rowing machine at the Landoor Plaza's fitness club when his communicator sounded. He was tempted to ignore the signal; he'd lost several days on his exercise program during his trip out to the rebel base, and he was in the mood for a good workout. But the readout on his wrist said PRIORITY, which meant that Mother judged it important enough to interrupt him.
"Jester here," he said, dropping one oar to raise the communicator to mouth level.
"Hate to bother you, loverboy," said Mother's saucy voice. "A couple of local bigwigs want to see you soonest. You put their names on the let-through list, so I'm lettin' you know. Shall I send 'em in, or do you want to get dressed first? They've got steam coming out their ears."
"That depends on who they are, and what their business is," said Phule. "I assume you asked them?"
"Ah, roger, sweetie," said Mother. There was a moment's pause and she said, "The nasty one's Colonel Mays and the ugly one's Boris Eastman-they said you'd know them. As for their business, Mays mentioned espionage, sedition, and harboring criminals. Have you been a bad boy again?"