Zant nodded. "And now, oh great chiefs, will you come with me and see the weapons of the star men? Surely, any chief who truly cares for his people would wish to know what his people would face in an attack on the star man settlement."
The chiefs conferred with frowns. They didn't want to seem to obey the star man, but Zant was correct. Any war leader would want to know what his warriors would face.
"I do not fear the star weapons," the middle chief proclaimed, rising to his feet. "My camp will accept as well." He waved the empty laser his men had seized from one of the flitter casualties. "We have taken their weapons. They are cunningly made it is true. But they require magic to work. Without their magic, they are only badly designed clubs. We have fought the star men, and killed them. They even use women to fight for them."
Zant nodded coldly. "And how many lives did it cost to conquer these four or five star men, already injured by the crash of their wagon?"
The chief frowned. "They fought bravely, it is true. But they died screaming, like men of the kingdoms."
"Come, then," Zant replied. "I will show you what that weapon will do when its magic is not depleted. For the star men have plenty of the magic."
Holding his laser as though it were a staff of power, the middle chief strode proudly out of the tent. The other chiefs followed.
The nomads weren't the only ones skilled at setting a stage to impress. Zant had set up the demonstration at the base of the towering starship, its huge shadow a constant reminder of the star men's power.
A dozen straw mannequins were arranged at various distances from ten to fifty yards down range from the table set up for Zant's show.
He picked up the laser. "This weapon is called a 'laser'," he began. "It is the same as the one your chief carries, there, but this one carries its magic. This is what your warriors will face." He turned from the chiefs and lifted the laser. Five actinic bolts seared the watchers' eyes in as many seconds. Smoke rose lazily from smoldering wounds in five of the targets. "Five men just died in less than five seconds," Zant said unnecessarily.
Zant returned the laser to the table, and picked up a blaster. "This is called a 'blaster'. It is used for close range." He whirled and fired. Blasters, unlike lasers, are not silent. Tortured air creates a roar that is almost an explosion, cut off almost immediately as the ball of energy dissipates in its target. The chiefs flinched twice at the explosion/roar of the blaster. The two nearest targets displayed large holes in their torsos. The nearest, at ten yards, showed a hole in its middle some four inches in diameter. The one at twenty yards showed a six-inch hole.
Zant turned back to the chiefs. "These are the weapons the soldiers of the star men carry, as yours carry bows and javelins. But the star men have many other, more powerful weapons." He signaled, and the twin quickfirers of Greeners' Pride chattered. Their roar continued for five seconds, destroying the remaining five targets and chewing a sizable area of grass into a muddy, smoking tangle.
Zant waved the chiefs forward, and they examined the targets. The laser wounds were not particularly impressive, merely smoking, blackened quarter-inch holes. But Zant was prepared for that. He pulled off his shirt, displaying the healing hole in the fleshiest part of his upper arm. "I was very lucky," he said. "The shooter could have slashed his beam, and taken off my arm. If he had hit almost anywhere in my torso, I would not be here."
The blaster targets were more impressive. There was no doubt that no one would survive the wounds the blaster created. Zant failed to mention, of course, that the weapon was ineffective at ranges above 25 meters.
But the hits of the show were the quickfirers. Each infantry model quickfirer fired a thousand half-inch projectiles per minute. The mannequins had dissolved into scattered bits of straw, and the grass for ten feet around had been driven into a muddy mass.
"These are only some of the weapons of the star men," Zant said. "We have many more. Those of the kings have been specially designed for the people of Jumbo. Have your warriors ready two hours after dawn tomorrow, and the kings' militia will show their abilities." Picking up the laser and blaster, Zant turned and climbed Greeners' Pride's boarding ladder without another word.
Chapter 17
"A brave display, indeed," said king Rajo a few hours later. "We hope that tomorrow's will be equally effective."
Zant grinned. "I suspect the talk in the chiefs' tent will go on far into the night." He shrugged. "Sheol, I didn't exaggerate. The nomads are as stagnant as the kingdoms. If Jumbo is to develop, both must adapt to change. The difference is that the kings know they must change. The nomads do not. It is our job to teach them."
King Rajo snorted. "Not all the kings. You should hear Jorg of Tergo go on about how the star men are bringing catastrophe to Jumbo."
Tonio laughed. "He didn't turn down the weapons, though he didn't send as many militiamen as the others."
"Ah, but he does not face the nomads," Rajo replied. "His borders are protected by Jesh and Valhalla. He comes to Treaty only to make certain is not excluded from anything. All he has to fear are a few mountain bandits."
"Don't knock the mountain men," Zant warned. "If they decide King Jorg is interfering with their lives too much, Tergo will quickly need a new king."
"You did very well today, sire Zant," the king said. "I was concerned when it was decided that you would come in place of sire Cale."
Zant shrugged. "Cale's a city boy. He does very well when talking with civilized people like your Majesty. But if you need someone to talk to mountain men at a Gathering, or to half-naked savages wearing animal skins, Zant's your man. Besides, I had that laser wound for show and tell." He sighed. "Speaking of that, now I can finally get to the med bay and get that thing healed. I'm tired of having to take pain medications." He rose and headed down the ladder toward the med bay.
King Rajo turned to Tonio. "And will your people do as well tomorrow as they did at River Port?"
Tonio smiled. "Better, your Majesty."
Zant had deliberately scheduled the demonstration for two hours after dawn, to make certain they had the maximum number of onlookers possible. He certainly achieved that. It appeared that there were hundreds of onlookers. Every trader's stall in Treaty was deserted. No one wanted to miss the big show. Besides, there would be plenty of time for trading after the nomads routed the militia.
There was laughter and hoots of derision as Tonio's twenty militiamen emerged from the ship and formed up, marching smartly in formation to the selected site at the edge of the ruins. For purposes of the demonstration, the militiamen would deploy as though to protect Treaty, and the nomads would pretend to attack the village as their forebears had over a century before. Zant and the kings grouped to one side. The chiefs gathered nearby. Two of the chiefs were obviously angry at not being able to lead their men, but the two elder chiefs looked more like men about to be executed.
The militiamen were equipped as they had been when facing Valahalla's cavalry, with one exception. They had been equipped with large, lightweight shields to protect them from the nomad arrows.
Tonio placed his men in line abreast, down on one knee.
"Look!" came a voice from the crowd, "they already cringe from our warriors!" A roar of laughter echoed through the crowd, but Tonio only smiled quietly.
Cheers erupted as the nomad attackers appeared. The nomads were essentially light cavalry, with no infantry support. They had only one real 'tactic': frontal attack. They milled about for a few moments at long bowshot, and then released a cloud of arrows, to an approving roar from the crowd. They kicked their dinos into motion, following their missiles.