"Then you will be pleased to know that my orders are to see that your orders are carried out to the letter. Now, where is General Zennor?"
"Down there, major."
I spun on my heel and walked in the direction that I wished least to take. He would be watching me, I was sure of that. But I had no choice. If I simply tried to leave the ship he might start to think about my presence, get suspicious, sound the alarm. .If I went to the general all doubt would vanish.
Of course I might vanish too. Nevertheless I walked swiftly toward the open door and the murmured voices, turned into it without hesitation.
The officers at the end of the room were conferring over a map. Zennor had his back turned to me.
I turned sharply right and saw the shelves of books against the bulkhead. Without hesitation I went to it, ran my finger down the volumes. I could not see their titles because of the sweat that Was dripping into my eyes. Seized one at random. Turned and started back toward the door. Let my eyes cross over the group of officers.
Who were completely ignoring me. I walked slower, ears straining, but could hear nothing other than a murmured cagal or two, which was required of any military conversation.
When I entered the corridor the lieutenant was just scuttling out of sight. I walked, neither fast nor slow, to the companionway and down it, deck by deck. Waiting for the alarm bells to go off. Though I probably wouldn't have heard them through the pounding of blood in my ears. To the last deck and to the open port with the welcoming blackness of the night beyond.
The guard leapt into the air and my heart followed him.
And landed with his weapon at present arms. I threw him a sloppy salute in return and trotted down the steps to the ground. Another salute and I was walking across the burned grass and waiting for the shot in the back.
It never came. I reached the shadows at the edge of the grounds, slipped into them and leaned against the bole of a tree. And sighed a sigh such as I had never sighed before. When I raised my hand to wipe the perspiration from my brqw I realized that I was still holding the book.
Book? What book? Oh, the book I had lifted from the cabin about four hundred and twelve years earlier. When I held it up and squinted I could just make out the title in the illuminatiop of the distant lamps. Veterinary Practice in Robot Cavalry Units.
It dropped from my limp fingers as my back slid slowly down the tree until I was sitting on the ground.
Chapter 25
I rested there in the darkness, let the sweat evaporate, tried not to think about veterinaries for robot horses—and pondered the significance of the sealed door on the communications room.
For openers, it had not been sealed shut to keep me from getting inside. As much as I valued my own importance I was well aware that others, Zennor in particular, were not struck with fear by my presence. For example the combat-ready captain earlier this night. No, Zennor had the door sealed for his own reasons. What were they? Work backward from the obvious.
The door on this ship was sealed, so probably all of the corn rooms on all the spacers had been sealed. It made no sense to shut just a single one. Why? To stop communication, obviously. Between who and whom? Or whom and who for that matter. It couldn't be intended to stop planetary communication. That was still needed for the not-toosuCcessfill invasion. Groundbased radios would suffice for that. Spacer corn rooms sealed obviously meant that shipto-ship communication would cease. That was of no importance since the entire fleet had already landed.
Which left only interstellar communication. Of course! The rush to leave, the secrecy about our destination. Zennor knew that the League Navy was after him, knew that they could only stop him if they knew where he was going. Or where this planet was. So the invasion was a one-way affair. A gamble buried into interstellar space. Not much of a gamble against an unarmed enemy. Zennor knew that the Navy had spies, all those detector vans had been evidence of that. He was convinced that I worked for the League and there might be other League agents in his army. So communication had been cut off until the invasion succeeded. After that there would be nothing that the Navy could do.
This was good for the invasion—but very bad news for me. I had sent the radio message for help, which even now was limping steadily across interstellar space at the miserable speed of light. I had better forget about it. And forget as well about sending an FTL message for the time being. What I had to do now was think local. I might have to spend the rest of my life on this planet. If I did remain 'here I didn't want to do it with Zennor and his military goons breathing down my neck. Desertion, that was the name of the game. I had to get his army away from him. Wheh all the draftees had been dispersed about the land I would consider the next step. Which didn't bear considering. Maybe I should open a distillery and supply free booze to his officers and noncoms? From what I had seen, with the correct encouragement, they all would be dead of cirrhosis within the year.
I yawned and realized that my eyes were closed and I was half asleep.
"Neveri" I groyned, climbing to my feet. "Fall asleep here, Jim my boy, and the chances are that you will wake up dead. To work! Next step is to get your chunk off this base, for your work here is done for the moment. Back to warmth and light and female companionship, away from solitary males, cursing, drinking, gambling and all the other military .pleasures. Away!"
But was I ever tired. Instead of walking it would sure be nice to have a bit of transportation. Somewhere near HQ there had to be vehicles, since officers rarely walked. Nor were these vehicles too hard to find. lust behind the HO
building there was a motorpool, unguarded apparently. And there, looming darkly behind the staff cars, the shape of a command car. One I was-very familiar with. I drifted over and climbed into it. No guards needed at this motorpool because all the ignition keys had been taken away. I smiled into the darkness. This crate could be hotwired faster than a key could be fumbled into the lock. I bent, pulled, twisted. Sparks sizzled and the fuel cell hissed into life. Boldly on with the headlights, into gear and away.
Away to where? Not the gates surely. During the daytime it might be possible to drive out behind a convoy. But right now the gates would be closed and I would have to produce a pass or some sound reason for nighttime maneuvers. I could think of no sound reason. I drove on slowly, past one of the gates and along a perimeter road that circled the camp, just inside the barbed wire fence. For security patrols undoubtedly. I drove along it until a grove of trees came between me and the lights of the camp. I angled the headlights toward the fence, locked the gears in neutral and climbed down to look at the barrier.
It was a ten-strand barbed wire fence. There were surely alarms attached if it were breached, but I could see no sign of disturbed earth, tripwires or circuitry that might lead to mines. Just bashing through it might be a chance worth taking. It didn't matter if the alarm were raised. By the time the sluggish troops reached the site I would be long gone. I raced the engine, put it in the lowest gear, floored the accelerator and ground forward.
The wire fence screeched and tore. There was a fine show of crackling sparks—1 thought it might be electrified, but the combat car was shielded—and then it all tore away and I was through. Kicking up through the gears and tearing away through the empty streets. Pulling the wheel and screeching around a plaza with alarge statue of Mark Forer gazing down serenely from a plinth, and out the broad avenue on the far side. I recognized this street, I had walked this way before when we had first escaped.
The river and bridges were up ahead. With the residential suburbs on the far side.
When I trundled my battle wagon across the bridge there was still no sign of pursuit. Fine. Time to go to ground. I turned off along the river bank, put the gears in low-low, angled toward the water and jumped down. The car ground steadily on, demolished a bench—sorry about that—and plowed majestically over the edge. There was plenty of burbling and splashing, then nothing. The river was deep here. Behind me I could hear the wail of distant sirens. I walked briskly through the park and into the nearest street. Though I was tired I needed to put some distance between myself and the river, in case there were tracks left which might be seen by day.