Ross blurted, “But that’s Number One’s program!”
Tilly tinkled laughter. The young guerrillas around her chuckled softly.
Pater Riggin said slowly, “Only to a certain point, Ross. To a certain point it is the program of any thinking person. This planet is well suited for a unified government and has been for some time; Betastan and Alphaland being so delicately balanced has stood in the way of such a unification. Number One, of course, has wished world rule—under Number One and his Coaids. That is rejected, obviously, by the Karlists. The new government will be decided upon by representatives from all the participating countries—a Constitutional Convention, you might call it, with the basic theory of the Karlists behind it”
Ross slumped back in his seat.
For the moment they didn’t disturb him, though watching carefully, waiting for a response that they all seemed to expect. All, perhaps, except Centurion Combs who had a cynical expression on his youthful face.
Ross Westley finally took a deep breath and said, “All right. What has all this got to do with me? What is it you want from me?”
A sigh went through them.
Two or three of the exhausted irregulars, as though this were all that had been keeping them from needed rest, went back to their bunks.
Pater Riggin quickly outlined the developments of the past twenty-four hours, during which time Ross had been recovering from his concussion.
“Fielder and his triumvirate are making their bid for power. They won’t win, eventually, but unless thwarted now, they’ll cause endless additional bloodshed.”
“What can we possibly do to prevent them?”
The former Temple Monk said, “A great deal. The strongest positions they hold are Surety, the military and Finance, none of which are particularly popular now for obvious reasons.”
“Well,” Ross said sarcastically. “We hold nothing.”
Pater Riggin arched his eyebrows. “To the contrary, we have Number One, himself, you, the Deputy of Information, and Philip McGivern, head of the Department of Socioeconomics though he is now hospitalized.”
Ross looked at the older man as though he were mad. “You expect Number One to support a Karlist takeover?”
The other smiled and shook his heavy head. “Not exactly. I expect him to combat a take-over by Fielder, Croft-Gordon and Matheison. In his present fury—I might mention, he is not a particularly intelligent man—he is not taking the long view. He would rather pull his whole world down around his shoulders, than see his immediate enemies prevail over him. It is a characteristic of dictators, so I understand.”
Ross thought about it briefly.
“Well,” he said. “You’ve got your work cut out. Let’s say that we could write up a speech for Number One to give. It would call upon everyone to put down their arms and support the movement for a democratic conference to plan a world government. He would resign his office, as a gesture of sincerity, call upon Alphaland forces to return to their homeland immediately. I could give another, brief talk to back him. So could Academician McGivern. But there’s one bug in the ointment.”
Tilly and Pater Riggin looked at him.
“And what is that?”
“They have the communications system in their control, not us.”
Tilly yawned mightily and came to her feet. “That’s where we come in. Combs! Altshuler! Bernal! Come on, fellas, all of you. On your feet. Gonzales, put out a general alarm to all our groups. Project Propaganda goes into effect.”
The men in the bunks groaned.
One yelled over, “Why didn’t you characters keep on talking? It was like being rocked to sleep.”
Gonzales headed for the electronics equipment in the corner, and Ross, looking after him, wondered what complicated Rube Goldberg devices they could have dreamed up to avoid detection by Mark Fielder’s Surety.
He turned to Tilly and said, “How many men can you gather?”
Tilly thought about it, twisting her mouth. “ ’Bout five hundred to a thousand, as of this morning. Maybe some of them have been killed or taken since then.”
Pater Riggin said, “We’ve got to get working on that speech. Wait for me here. I’ll have to check with Jim. He’ll be boiling, I’ve been gone so long from where I’ve got him stashed out.”
“Who’s Jim?” Combs growled.
Pater Riggin looked at him. “Number One.”
Combs grunted. “It never occurred to me the cloddy had a first name.”
Pater Riggin murmured, “Everybody has a first name—to the right person.” He added softly. “It’s been a task remaining that right person for so many years, waiting for this moment.” He was gone.
The room was a bedlam as men sought their weapons and other equipment.
Ross and Tilly Trice stood alone, momentarily, looking into each other’s faces.
“And when it’s all over?” he said.
“Like I said,” she told him.
It all hit him at once. He said in pure astonishment, “But you people have won. And you haven’t had the use of a single computer to figure it out”
She grinned at him mockingly.
“Oh, I’ve had a computer. So’ve we all.”
He scowled at her, uncomprehending.
She tapped her head.