May 19th, 2144
We have gotten word that the Quadrant Commission (9QCIPS) has warned both O'Hara and the Abe Show to knock off the war. The Commission fears that our performances will trigger an uprising on Wallabee. Since the layers of posters on some of the sidewalks, in some cases, were thick enough to impede traffic, the Commission's warning appeared to have little effect. At Stoat-ludop, for reasons unknown, the Abe Show offered no opposition, but jumped ahead to the next stand.
NINETEEN
May 24th, 2144
I was with the Battle Bolt, the number-three car, covering over the paper the Abe Show had over billed that was put down by the Thunder Bird. The news from the grapevine was encouraging. The Abe Show was finding day-and-date with the Old One (that's what we called O'Hara's Show) an economic disaster. The Nithads may have been oppressed and preoccupied with their plans for revolution, but they could still tell the difference between a real circus and a traveling gadget show.
When the Battle Bolt's crew reached Hymnicon, we found our paper on the sidwalks untouched, and assumed that the Abe Show had either given up or had jumped ahead as before. Both turned out to be in error.
At night, midway through the show, the Battle Bolt got word that the Abe Show was sending their opposition brigade against the show itself. Of course we were fighting mad, since it ran against circus ethics to fight at the stand, unless the combatants happened to be towners. One show does not attack another show at the stand, because there is the possibility of customers getting hurt. Nevertheless, the word came in, and the War Eagle picked up our opposition brigade after picking up the brigade from the Thunder Bird.
The full brigade streaked back toward the stand, and by the time we circled the area, we could see the Irish Brigade tangling with the Abe Show's opposition. In between and scattered all around were Nithads coming out of the show. We put down on the edge of the lot, grabbed our stakes, then piled out of the doors and joined the battle. We could see several of the Abe Show people heading for the main top and menagerie with torches. The canvas itself was inflammable, but, between the seats in the maintop and the straw in the animal top, there was reason enough to trample the Nithads that got in the way to get at the firebugs.
Opposition Brigade ethics authorizes only that amount of force necessary to make one's side victorious. Therefore, when the fists and stakes start swinging, there is a degree of restraint involved. Sending the opposition to the hospital is acceptable, whereas sending them to the morgue is not. At the battle of Garatha, there were no such restraints. Circus people do not sabotage one another, particularly if it might endanger the patrons. Since the Abe Show had thrown the rule book out of the window, we did the same.
Bodies dropped as blood-soaked stakes whipped through the night, landing upon skulls and breakable legs. The baggage horse top erupted in flame, and as the animal men led out the Perches and rosinbacks through the fire, the rest of us threw ourselves against the Abe Show's roughnecks. In seconds, performers, office workers—the Governor himself—was on the lot busting skulls. Here and there a Nithad would be caught by a backswing or kicked out of the way by someone anxious to get into the thick of the brawl. Eventually, the egg-shaped creatures were huddled under their armor, looking like so many loaves of bread on the lot.
I had just finished thumping an obnoxious character when an Abe Show toothpick caught me between the eyes. When I woke up to the sound of my own bells, the opposition had retired and the Nithad patrons were coming out of their shells and scurrying off of the lot. I saw the Governor being helped to his wagon by two canvasmen, and would have helped, except that I passed out again.
May 25th, 2144
About to return to the advance, head bandaged nicely, when the grapevine reports that we've been kicked off the planet! The Abe Show has already left, but the Quadrant Commission insists that we are a poor influence on a people trying to avoid open rebellion. The show is torn down, loaded and sent upstairs to the City of Baraboo.
May 27th, 2144
I was feeling pretty glum as I walked past the Governor's quarters. I heard laughter coming from within, and being in such a condition that I could stand a good laugh, I knocked on O'Hara's door.
"Come in! Come in!"
I pressed the door panel, it hissed open, I stepped in, and it hissed shut behind me. Stretch Dirak was seated across from the Governor at his desk, and both of them were drying their eyes. "What's so funny?"
The governor handed me a flimsy upon which was written a radio message. I read it and was instantly confused. The Nithad—both ruling class and liberation front—had called off the revolution and had vowed to resort to peaceful means in the resolution of the issues that divided them. It appeared that the Nithad's total lack of war for the preceding twenty thousand years had not prepared them for the kind of conflict they had witnessed between the two shows. After witnessing it, both sides had decided that there had to be a better way, and immediate negotiations had begun. The flimsy was from the Ninth Quadrant Commission, and it concluded by calling the Abe Show and O'Hara's Greater Shows "Agents of reason and peace."
I looked at the Governor. "Does this mean that we'll be able to finish off our stands on Wallabee?"
"No." He laughed, then landed me another flimsy. "I went directly to the Wallabee Ruling Council and asked. This is their reply."
I took the sheet of paper and read it. It read, in part: "... we must refuse. There is only so much of your 'peace and reason' that a planet such as ours can take."
IV The Slick Gentlemen
EDITION 2144 (Cont'd.)
TWENTY
The secretary pushed open the door to the dark office. Entering, she closed the door behind her. In a moment the black mass before the sparkle of the city lights resolved into Karl Arnheim. "Mr. Arnheim?"
The black mass didn't move. The secretary stepped a little to one side and could see the lights from the streets below reflected in Karl Arnheim's unblinking eyes. "Mr. Arnheim?"
The eyes blinked, but remained fixed in their direction. "Yes, Janice?"
"Mr. Arnheim, I'm going home now. Do you want me to call for your car?"
"No."
Janice fidgeted uncomfortably in the dark for a moment, then put her hand on the door latch. "I've arranged for your annual physical for ten tomorrow—"
"Cancel it."
"But, Mr. Arnheim, this is the third in—"
"I said cancel it." The mass turned. She could not see his face, but could feel his eyes burning into her. "Did you transfer those funds to Ahngar as I directed?"
"Yes, Mr. Arnheim. And I prepared those papers for the board meeting tomorrow. The proxies look pretty close. A lot of the stockholders are with Milton Stone about—"
"About what?" Silence hung heavy for a moment, then came the sound of a fist hitting a hardwood surface. "Stone, that two-bit accountant! What can he do, except sharpen his pencils? I'll run this corporation the way I always have, and if I choose to use every asset of this enterprise to drive John J. O'Hara into the din, I'll do it! What's more, no one can stop me!"