Jim walked over to stand beside Harn and look down. What he saw looked not so much like an armed camp as a circular small town or city of dome-shaped buildings divided by streets into pie-shaped sections.
“Come here,” he said, looking back at the Governor. The Governor came obediently up to the wire mesh. “Look down there. Tell me. Do you see anything unusual about that camp down there?”
The Governor gazed and finally shook his head.
“Sir,” said Harn, “the camp is laid out according to one of the customary military patterns, with different groups or units in each section, and a guard of men from each section to complete the perimeter circuit.”
“Except they’ve set up a council building!” said the Governor self-pityingly. “Look at that! Just as if I was there with them!”
“Where?” asked Jim.
The Governor pointed out a larger dome-shaped building just to the right of the geometric center of the camp.
“Only a Governor is supposed to call a council among the troops!” he said. “But they’ve been going ahead, anyway. As if I were deposed already—or even dead!” He snuffled.
“What are you suspicious of, sir?” asked Harn. Adok had moved up close behind them. Jim could now see him out of the corner of his eye.
“I’m not exactly sure,” said Jim. “Adjutant, what kind of weapons do our Starkiens have that these colonial soldiers wouldn’t have?”
“We have vastly better individual defensive screens,” answered Harn. “Also, each of our men represents fire power equal to that of one of their heavy companies.”
“Then it’s just a case of having the same sort of weapons, only better ones?” said Jim. “Is that it?”
“Sir,” answered Harn, “the greatest weapon of the Starkiens is the trained individual Starkien himself. He—”
“Yes, I know that,” interrupted Jim a little sharply. “What about”—he fumbled in his mind for means of translating the Earth terms there into the Empire language—“what about large fixed weapons? Unusually powerful explosives—nuclear fusion or fission weapons?”
“These colonials aren’t allowed the technological machinery to make large fixed weapons,” said Harn. “It’s possible that they might secretly have built some sort of fission device—but unlikely. As for any antimatter weapon, that’s completely impossible—”
“Just a minute,” Jim interrupted him. “Do the Starkiens have all these things available back on the Throne World? The—what was it you called it? Antimatter devices?”
“Of course. But they haven’t been required for use off the Throne World for some thousands of years,” said Harn. “Are you aware of what an antimatter device is, sir?”
“Only,” said Jim grimly, “to the extent of knowing that a little bit of antimatter coming in contact with a little bit of matter can cause a good deal of destruction.”
He stood for a second without saying anything. Then he spoke abruptly.
“Well, Adjutant,” he said to Harn, “now that you’ve seen how things look down there, do you still want to send back to the Throne World for help?”
“No, sir,” answered Harn promptly. “If the sentry we surprised in his post is at all representative, their armed forces are incredibly poor. Also, their camp seems set up more for the convenience of those dwelling in it than with any eye to overall defense. The pattern is there, but there are no street patrols, no perimeter patrols that I can see, and—most amazing—no overhead warning system whatsoever. Those people down there are just going through the motions of being an army.”
Harn stopped, as if giving Jim a chance to comment.
“Go on, Adjutant,” said Jim.
“Sir,” acknowledged Harn, “what with what I’ve mentioned, the fact that we’ve just now discovered that their leaders are all concentrated in that one building, makes the military solution to this situation extremely simple. I’d suggest we send Adok back for the rest of the men right now, and as soon as they get here we mount a raid on that one building, coming down on it from directly overhead so as to avoid triggering their perimeter defenses, and either kill or capture the ringleaders. Then they can be returned to the capital city for trial.”
“And what,” asked Jim, “if the rumor the Governor heard was correct—that these rebels have a friend among the High-born on the Throne World?”
“Sir?” said Harn. Insofar as a Starkien could, he sounded puzzled. “It’s impossible, of course, for a High-born to have any dealings with colonial revolutionists like those down there. But even assuming that they down there had such a friend, there’s nothing he could do to stop us. And, moreover, we Starkiens are responsible only to the Emperor.”
“Yes,” said Jim. “All the same, Adjutant, I’m not going to follow your advice here, any more than I followed it when you suggested earlier that we send back to the Throne World for reinforcements.”
He turned away from Harn to confront the little Governor.
“Your noble families are always fighting with each other, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Why—they’re nearly always intriguing against me, all of them!” said the little Governor. Then he giggled unexpectedly. “Oh, I see what you mean, Commander. Yes, they do fight among one another a lot. In fact, if they didn’t, I might have some trouble handling them. Oh, yes, their main sport is intriguing and accusing one another of everything you can think of.”
“Naturally,” said Jim, half to himself. “They’re noyaux.”
“Sir?” said Harn beside him. The little Governor was also looking puzzled. The scientific term in the language of Earth meant nothing to them.
“Never mind,” said Jim. He went on to the Governor, “Would there be anyone among these other leaders down there that your cousin generally doesn’t get along with?”
“Someone who Cluth doesn’t—” The little Governor stopped thoughtfully. He stood a second, gazing at the moonlit grass at his feet. “Notral! Yes, if there’s anyone he isn’t likely to get along with, it would be Notral.”
He turned and pointed down at the encampment.
“See?” he said. “Cluth’s people will be in that slice there of the encampment. And Notral’s will be way over there, almost directly opposite. The farther they are away from each other usually, the better they like it!”
“Adjutant. Adok,” said Jim, turning to the two Starkiens. “I’ve got a special job for you. Do you suppose that you could go down there quietly and bring back to me, alive and in good shape, a perimeter guard from the section just outside Notral’s area of the encampment?”
“Of course, sir,” answered Harn.
“Fine,” said Jim. “Be sure to blindfold him when you take him from the perimeter. And you’ll have to blindfold him again when you take him back. Now”—he turned to the Governor—“point them out Notral’s area of the encampment again.”
The Governor did so. The two Starkiens let themselves out of the sentry post and effectually disappeared—as effectually as if they had translated themselves from there to some other spot, in the fashion of the Throne World. It was a little over half an hour, by earthly standards, before they returned, and Jim saw the section of the mesh fence of the sentry post swing open. He had been sitting on the ground, crosslegged, with the little Governor sitting to one side of him. But now Jim got to his feet, and the Governor scrambled up, as ordered, to stand alongside him, his extreme shortness emphasizing Jim’s six-foot-four.
Adok crawled into the sentry post and stood up, to be followed a second later by a small brown youngster in a straplike harness somewhat like that of the Starkiens. The young colonial soldier was so frightened that he shook visibly. Harn followed closely behind him and shut the mesh gate once he was inside.