At a command from Tonio, the militiamen crouched forward, angling their shields for maximum protection. As soon as the thuds of the arriving arrows stopped, the militiamen threw down their shields and fell to a prone position atop them.
By this time, the nomads were only twenty meters from the militia line. Suddenly there was a flurry of crossbow bolts and yellow smears began appearing on nomads and their mounts. By agreement, if a man or his mount were hit with paint, he would stop his mount, out of the 'battle'.
The last nomad stopped at five meters, after throwing a despairing javelin. He was to record the only militia 'casualty'. Every nomad and every dino showed at least one smear of paint.
The crowd's roar faded to a stunned silence, and Tor-Jen swiveled the ship's quickfirers to cover the obviously angry and frightened crowd of nomads.
As a threatening growl arose from the crowd, Tonio had his men replace their paint bolts with lethal pointed ones before letting them rise, gather their shields, and march back toward the ship.
Zant and the kings hurried into the ship with as much dignity as they could retain, hoping the crowd would not become an angry mob before they could make it. Greeners' Pride's personnel hatch slammed shut.
After exchanging horrified stares, the five chiefs hurried back to the chiefs' tent, fending off questions and complaints from anguished audience members. Guards remained in front of the entrance all day, refusing everyone entry.
A somber silence settled over Treaty. Normally voluble traders spoke quietly with their few customers, their eyes scanning for threats. For the first time in many years, there was fear of violence in Treaty.
There was no violence during the remaining two days of the Treaty Trade, but little of the excitement and color usually on display, either. Moods were somber, the nomads surly and quick to anger. The traders later agreed that the star men had completely ruined the trading.
Zant made it a point to intercept the eldest chief as he moved around the encampment.
The old man eyed him stonily. "What do you want, star man? Have you not done enough damage here? You have shown the kingdoms how to destroy us."
Zant shook his head. "I did not come here to do damage, but to save lives. We do not wish the Free People destroyed. But we can no longer permit you to keep your neighbors in a pen."
The older man snorted. "Neighbors! They are despoilers of the land! Land that should be free to all, to roam as they will. They pollute it with their towns, and their smoke, and their filth."
"If you hate them so, why do you stay near them? Why not explore new lands for your people to wander?" He paused, and held up a hand to forestall a reply. "No. I did not seek you out to argue with you, but to offer our help."
"Help?" the man's face reddened. "You destroy us and then offer help?"
Zant shook his head, frowning. "No one need be destroyed. All that is required is for the Free People to again roam the vastness of Jumbo instead of huddling close to those you hate. That is why I have sought you out. You are the eldest of the chiefs, and I hope you will understand.
"If your people decide to move east, we can help. We can locate water holes and suitable camp sites. We can spot herds of game, and we can provide maps, which are pictures of the land as though looking downward from the sky. It would be like having scouts in the sky to help you plan your migration." He handed the old man an ultracom. "This is a star man tool for talking over long distances. Should you desire our help, simply press this," he indicated a tiny button. "The person who replies will know who is calling, and will be able to provide any help you need."
The old man looked at the ultracom and his shoulders sagged. "We have talked of the People moving east, but I will not be with them when they do. I am too old and too tired to make such a journey. I will accompany them to our farthest camp site, and there I will die." He raised his eyes to Zant's. "I have devoted my life to protecting Jumbo from the Despoilers. I have no desire to live in your new world, star man, where the kingdoms are free to spread their filth and smoke to the ends of Jumbo."
Zant shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that. The Free People will need your wisdom on this journey, and it will be many centuries before towns and cities cover Jumbo, if indeed that ever happens. But if that is your decision, please give the com to the wisest of the other chiefs. We want only for your people to roam free as they have always claimed to desire."
King Rajo was all smiles throughout the return journey to Valhalla Town. Zant's more sober demeanor confused him.
"What is wrong?" he asked. "Surely they will move east. We have shown them that we can destroy them if they do not."
Zant shook his head. "I'm afraid it is not that simple, your Majesty. People have faced similar situations on other worlds, and there are several ways for them to react. In some cases, they react as you expect, and make the rational decision. But in others, they lash out in fury, determined to die if they can only take their enemy with them. The only way that type can be stopped is by killing them. And most often, there is a combination of the two. Most of the people will see the inevitable and choose to survive. But there will always be a hard core who will prefer to die rather than what they view as surrender."
Cale supported Zant's opinion. "If I had to guess, your Majesty, I would say that most of the Free People will choose to migrate. It is, after all, what they claim to desire.
"But there will be a minority who will see that as a betrayal of their beliefs, and a surrender to the forces of evil. They will urge the chiefs to fight to the death. But the chiefs will make their choice based on what is best for their people -- and suicide is never 'best'.
"The minority will talk among themselves, and soon anger and wounded pride will make them plan an attack on the cause of their problem: in this case, the star men. They may wait until the main body of the nomads sets off on their migration, hoping that the main body will not be blamed and destroyed if their attack fails. But they will attack. I'm certain of it."
He paused. This next bit would not be easy. "Your Majesty," he said quietly, "We must warn the General."
"What?" The king was obviously shocked. "Do not be ridiculous. If you warn him, he might win a battle in which he might otherwise be defeated and end our problem."
Cale was shaking his head. "I'm sorry, your Majesty. We returned to Jumbo to save the colony and the planet from the General. With the help of the kings, we have lowered that threat. But our primary intent is to save the colony. If the General is defeated, suicidal nomads will overrun the colony. There will be no survivors. You know this, your Majesty, and you know we must try to prevent it."
He turned to Zant. "Perhaps you should call him, Zant. His Majesty knows that I have talked to the General once before since our return."
King Rajo looked troubled, but he was obviously thinking hard.
"While his majesty decides," Cale added, "perhaps we should call Dee or Donord for the current situation."
It was Dee who answered Cale's call, and she was in tears.
"Dee, What's wrong?" Cale asked, but she was crying so hard her answer was incoherent. Cale talked quietly and soothingly, trying to calm her enough to at least speak intelligibly, but it was her edge of fury that at last overcame her weeping.
"One of those, those animals beat and raped Blue-eye!" she finally cried.
"What? Who?" Cale was confused.
"Blue-eye," Dee replied in a nettled tone. "Donord's most popular girl. I used the first aid kit, and I straightened her broken nose. But I can't set her broken jaw, and Tess tells me she may never recover completely."
"Oh," Cale replied, relieved. "One of the inn girls."
"Yes," Dee said in a voice suddenly dripping acid. "One of the inn girls. Does that make it all right to beat her up and disfigure her for life?"