Nice dramatic pause here, I thought.
“The second and only remaining option as to the overthrow of the Four Lords and the consequent flushing out of these aliens is simple. The Confederacy, if it can not achieve or see the first, will not hesitate to do on a mass scale what they fail to do on a simple scale. They propose to incinerate the four Warden Diamond worlds totally and kill every living person and thing upon them.”
Another pause and much agitation and some really loud comments rose from the crowd. It sounded angry and upset.
“They have the power to do this. They have the means. And those aliens won’t save us. If they could, they wouldn’t have needed the Four Lords in the first place. Therefore, this organization of good, serious men and women of the Diamond, very different on each world but nonetheless there, was formed not to save the Confederacy, which means nothing to us, but to save our homes, our worlds, our very lives. The Four Lords will not back down. They are in this to the death, since anything less than the aliens’ total victory will destroy them. And since we know very little about them ourselves, we have no reason to think that, even in the case of a now improbable alien and Four Lords victory, those aliens would then be friendly to us. We have no choice.
“However, each planet is different, and must be dealt with by different methods—and is best dealt with by th” natives of those worlds. Therefore, the members of Medusa’s Opposition must now sit back, reflect, and discuss the situation among themselves. Cells will be asked within no more than two weeks to propose plans for action. Those plans will be examined and coordinated by us, and then a single master plan will be developed. We will win. We must win. I leave you now to discuss the situation in your individual cells. With your help, Medusa, TMS, and the very idea of monitors that strangles the world will be vanquished within a year.”
With that the recording stopped, and there was instant pandemonium that took the group leader some time to quiet down to a dull roar. Finally she got enough of a lull to yell, “Discussion will be in individual cell groups. Those with numbers beginning in four will file out first, then those with six, following your cell leaders. Those in my cell will remain here! Do it now!”
Everyone stood around for a few moments, then a small group of four started toward the exit, followed by the rest, still grumbling and talking. As for me, I was reasonably excited by this development, since it meant action in the foreseeable future. I could just, imagine the furious debates that would ensue when we met in private from now on. But something still bothered me a little. Was it really true that they had no plan, or was this simply a test? And would the truth sell to these folks?
I saw Sister 657, and turned to Ching. “What do you think?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” I told her. “I knew it before I ever got to Medusa.”
She thought about that one for a moment. Finally she said, “But is it any of our business, really? I’m not sure I even know what he means by aliens, and as for the Confederacy, all Outside is just a fairy tale to us, anyway.”
I expected more of this logic when we assembled in our cell meeting. A lot more. What could you expect from people who weren’t even sure what wild animals lived on their own native world? What did the concept of “alien” mean to them, anyway? Cerberan or Charonese was as alien as they could probably think. The idea that somebody, somewhere, could or would give an order and be willing and able to blow up a world was incomprehensibly abstract. I suspected that the Opposition leader had his hands full. I could tell just from his accent that he was a transportee himself, probably from the civilized worlds. His fancy, wood-paneled office wasn’t in the Medusan style, at least none I’d ever seen, leading to the inescapable conclusion that our leaders were Cerberan or Charonese, not Medusan. That would also be the ultimate conclusion of the group, I knew—and would cause even more intense anti-leadership feelings. For the first time these play rebels were being asked to do something, possibly to put their lives on the line, and they would do anything to avoid that.
Our, group was going out, and I jumped down and helped Ching down as well. We turned and followed the others, bringing up the rear of the group. I moved only a few paces outside the door when I stopped and ducked back inside. Ching, startled, looked at me. “What’s the matter?”
“TMS!” I shouted so that everybody could hear. “It’s a trap!”
The monitors also heard my echoed warning, because there was the sudden sound of an amplified official voice. “This is TMS! Everyone inside that room will come out, one by one, hands on heads, starting exactly one minute from now! We will gas anyone left after the rest have emerged, so there is no reason to hold back. You are trapped, and there is no way out. You have fifty seconds!”
Ching looked at me, scared and confused. “What will we do?”
I peered back out the door and saw perhaps a dozen agents, lined up on both sides of the catwalk about ten meters on either side of the temporary bridge. I had never seen TMS monitors armed with anything more lethal than a night stick, but these held very familiar-looking laser weapons.
I turned back to Ching and lowered my voice. “Now, listen carefully. I’m going to try and bluff us out of here with Hocrow’s name. At the very least that should get us taken to her.” I turned and looked at the remaining Opposition members in the room. Most had their hoods off and defeat registered all over their faces and in their mannerisms. They were sheep who’d do what they were told, like good little children, now that they’d been caught.
“Thirty seconds!”
“Damn!” I swore. “No, that Hocrow thing won’t work except as a diversion. She’s got to be behind this, at least partly. That means I’m no longer useful to her. We’ll get psyched with the sheep. We’ve got to escape.”
“Twenty seconds!”
“Escape? How?” Ching’s whole expression showed that the very concept was alien to her. On Medusa, you were raised from birth to believe that there was no escape.
“I’m going to get one of those guns, then go over the rail into the sewer. Follow me if you want, but it’s gonna be rough.”
“Ten seconds!”
“But—where can we go?”
“Only one place. It’s that or the Goodtime Girls, love. Ready?”
She nodded.
“Come out now!”
I walked out, hands above my head, and Ching followed. The rest of the cell walked behind us, looking very dejected. I could now see the others who’d gone before us lined up on both sides, and I couldn’t help but be disgusted at the sight. Not a single weapon was aimed at them; in fact, nobody was even looking at them.’ Yet there they stood, hands meekly over heads, waiting for the rest of the sheep. Well, by God, they had one rabid dog in this bunch. Still, I couldn’t believe that these were the shock troops of a real rebellion. If they had any guts or weren’t so completely conditioned by their society, they could have easily taken all those TMS agents and their weapons. Escape? Where? Rule one: first escape, then go where they aren’t.
Thanks to the illuminated stripes on its top, you could see a pretty long ways up and down the pipe, and the dozen TMS agents were all I saw. Only two on each side held laser weapons, short rifles from the looks of them.