“Someone was shadowing me,” I said. “Your boys or theirs?”
“Not mine,’ he told me, “which means they already know you’re here. You’d better depart at once―” He cut off as a yell went up across the square. Someone was hoisting a banner that the major explained read kill the humongs. He gripped my arm. “Where’s your machine?” he squeaked in my ear, over the rising crowd-noise.
I pointed out its position to him, an invisible presence among a group of big packing-cases and lift-vans. He hurried me in that direction. That was all right with me. It was Barbro I was after, not another entanglement in local politics.
“―well clear of the Zone,” he was saying. “I can rendezvous with you and discuss―”
“Never mind,” I told him. “Now that I know their location, I can call in a strike force to round them up. All I need to do now is get out of here.”
Oddly, the folks nearby paid no attention to me; instead they were craning their necks to see what the excitement was about across the market.
Inside again, I asked Major Hsp how things had gone with Her Majesty after her dramatic return.
“She was acclaimed by all,” he told me worriedly, “but the story began to circulate she had sold the folk out to foreigners―aliens―in a word, to ‘hum-ongs.’ They said she had taken a slave as her closest advisor.”
“After all, she was raised by humans,” I reminded him.
“I wonder who that slave/advisor would be?” he commented. “We rounded up every human slave we could find, and all were sent back to their home lines.”
“How did the slave get in solid so quickly?” I asked.
“No one knows,” he admitted. “All rumor and innuendo. But, with this untroubled phase from which to operate, the rebel scum can launch a coordinated attack. Until they’re extirpated, the Noble Folk will not know peace or security.”
He was looking at me expectantly, I thought. So I asked him, “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Surely,” he replied, “you will wish to assist in this worthy enterprise.”
“I have a project of my own,” I told him. “Good luck, but I have to go.” He made a motion with his hand, and a dozen Ylokk in uniform materialized from the apparently heedless crowd of shoppers, to surround me.
“I require your assistance,” Hsp told me. “I regret the necessity to employ force, but if you insist, I shall do so.”
“You mean these?” I inquired, as if incredulously, looking at his six bodyguards. “What do you expect half a dozen recruits to do?” I took a step sideways and a quick leg-sweep knocked the nearest enforcer back into a cart loaded with tubers. The two adjacent hard boys closed the gap, putting them close enough for me to grab both of them by one arm and crack their narrow heads together; then I threw them at another, closing in fast. That left two, plus the major. He called off his remaining pair and said, “Never mind; I see you’re not prepared to be reasonable. You may go.”
“You’re got your signals mixed, Major,” I told him. “I just want to make it clear that my cooperation will be voluntary. What do you have in mind?”
“They have a headquarters,” he told me, “somewhere in an outlying Phase. I’ve not yet managed to locate it. I suspect it’s a former technical installation of the Governance, taken over and operated by the traitors.”
“And…?” I prompted.
“Using your small transporter,” he suggested, “it might be possible to locate the HQ undetected. Then, a swift attack, and they’d be marooned, outnumbered, ready to be hunted down at leisure.”
“Come on,” I said. “I’ve got an idea.” He told his remaining two hard boys to alert somebody named Colonel Lord Twst, and stepped to my side. I escorted him to my sophisticated two-man scout, and ushered him inside.
“There’s an isolated transfer station I learned about from General Swft,” I told him. “I happened to notice, on the way here, that it’s still in use. That could be the Two-Law HQ.” He seemed interested all right, eager to go. I checked my back-trail recording and found the locus. It was a five-minute crossing, and we came to rest just as a party of about ten Ylokk in civvies were approaching the lone building.
“Commissioner Wsk,” the major identified one of the party. “That’s him in the lead―the treacherous moopah! And the others are junior officers of the Guard! The rot was better entrenched than I suspected!”
“Swft could have told you a lot about that,” I told him. “Too bad he didn’t have a chance to brief you.”
“A pity,” Major Hsp agreed. “However, their secret is out, now. It remains only to return to the Palace and denounce the rascals.”
“And leave this bunch here, to do as they please?” I queried.
He nodded curtly. “There’s no need to bait them here in their stronghold. Let us go, Colonel, without delay.”
I almost argued with him, but didn’t. The coil was still hot, so we were off in a moment. This time I steered right to the Ylokk Nuclear Line, which put us in the Skein depot, dark, empty, and echoic in the late evening. We used the “VIPs only” tunnel to the Palace next door, and emerged in the basement guardroom. Hsp used the beeper-recall system to assemble a dozen soldiers, well armed with clubs. He gave them―and me―a fast briefing, then he headed for the staff apartment wing.
Old Prince Vmp was indignant when we routed him out of his big, feathery bed, but he seemed oddly fatalistic. “So it’s you, Hsp,” he grumbled. “I told General Ngd you were unreliable. Should have purged you long ago.”
Hsp told him to shut up and had the troops truss Vmp up and secure him, head-down, by a rope tied to his ankles, in his garage-sized closet. We left him there trying to curse around the gag in his mouth.
When I commented that security seemed remarkably lax in the Palace, Hsp told me he was in command of the Guard, and had told all hands to be alert for a sneak approach from outside and to ignore any unusual activity inside the Palace itself. Thus, nobody bothered us as we neutralized a couple more of what Hsp assured me were the prime movers in the plot.
We were doing fine until we opened the big, armored door leading to the Royal Apartments. A small force was waiting for us there. I was the first one through the big double doors, and the heavy drapes beyond, and I was looking at old Gus, flanked by a dozen or so uniformed troops.
Gus took time to give me an astonished look and launch into a speech. “You, you damned fool! You should have stayed back in Stockholm with all your fat friends! Don’t you understand, this is my turf?”
I waited patiently for him to pause for a breath, and socked him good and hard in that soft gut. As soon as he collapsed, his loyal bodyguards split, in all directions. Hsp was body-blocking them off from the wide corridor leading to the Royal living quarters. We locked our three captives in a utility closet just outside the big doors and posted two fellows to watch.
I got Gus on his feet and breathing again, and asked him what he was doing there. “I’d heard Minnie was rumored to have a new, human advisor,” I told him when he seemed reluctant to discuss the matter.