Part 2

Erol chimed in, "You'll have to excuse my daughter; she's upset. I expected them to discover me long before this. This abandoned hunting lodge was too well known."

Yma's mind jumped on that. Yes, she thought, How well it is known--to me. My childhood is stuffed full of memories of this place, all pleasant. I know the woods around here better than the streets of the city. Now it will be the scene of this furtive hiding, suspense, and God knows what new violence.

While she was thinking, Erol was still talking. "I will ask you, since you are young and more adept in this sort of emergency. What shall we do?"

Florin glanced at Yma, and saw that the bitterness had left her in the face of danger. She too looked anxiously to him for help.

"If we stay here," he said, "we will be killed without question. I have no doubt that those ships are part of the mob. Even if it is the police, and I doubt there are any left after the rioting, they will imprison us."

Erol said, "This is a hunting lodge. There are some weapons here. We have nothing but your gyro to escape in, and it's too slow. I can see that those are police gyros."

"Then we'll fight," Yma declared and rushed inside, with Florin and Erol following her.

"This place is not much for defense," Florin said while they rummaged for rifles, for nothing more deadly was allowed outside the hands of the Galactic Patrol. "I suggest we make it seem peaceful and surprise them."

"Good idea, boy," Erol said. "If you want, I'll sit outside as a decoy."

"That's great!" Florin said quickly, ignoring Yma's protest. "If they see you, they will probably land and talk; but if nobody's in sight, they might bomb us."

The three worked well together, swiftly and efficiently. Erol sat on the veranda, in the open, with a pistol under a lap robe, while Yma and Florin stationed themselves inside.

The three gyros approached cautiously. They were the large black type used by the planetary police, but from the inexpert way they were handled all three at the lodge knew they were not bearing police. They carried bombs, the one weapon allowable to planetary police by the Galactic Patrol, but the men in them would have nothing more than firearms. Therefore it was imperative to get them on the ground.

They circled over the lodge, with two finally landing and one remaining aloft. Florin padded over to Yma, and whispered for her to station herself in some bushes by the lodge. He told her to try to shoot down the gyro above when firing began.

Men piled out of the ships which had landed, and approached the lodge. They spread out and swiftly encircled the building. They all carried rifles. Florin estimated that there were about twenty of them. Three of them approached Erol.

"Are you Erol Garbin?"

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"We are arresting you."

"What for?"

"For betraying the confidence of the people."

"May I see your warrant?"

"We don't need a warrant. We are a people's committee, come to take you to a people's court, where you will undoubtedly be found guilty and executed."

"And what if I refuse to recognize your authority?"

"We will have to kill you. Resisting arrest--"

What happened next surprised Florin with its swiftness. Erol flipped the gun from under the robe and with three snap shots dropped all three men.

Florin did not let surprise hamper him, for Erol's shots were echoed by his own rifle, which caught two men who were further away.

As the rest of the attackers dove for cover, Florin was pleased to hear the blast of a rifle from the side of the lodge, and the whine of a shattered blade as the gyro plummeted to the ground.

Yma had done well, hitting where he told her, at the base of the props. The moment of victory was rudely shattered by a volley of fire from the men around the lodge.

As Erol sprang from his chair and dove towards the door, he was hit and fell outside. Ignoring his wound he kicked over a table and used it as a shield, returning fire. Florin's thought of rescuing him was cut short by Erol's yell, "Get to the back of the lodge. They may rush it."

Florin made a dash for it, finding Erol's words true. The attackers were moving in. He still heard firing from the front and side, so he felt reassured.

He was lost in the blind ritual of firing at moving objects. His whole mind was devoted to the problems of loading clips, changing windows to keep everything covered, and trying to stay out of the path of the viciously whining bullets.

This was adventure and excitement. There was the crash of the rifles, the nasty whistle of ricochets, the moving bodies, sometimes jerking ludicrously when hit. Yet, to Florin, it was just a job, as it always is in the face of danger with every man. Just a specialized job with a very high incentive.

Staying alive.

Florin was surprised when he realized that he had disposed of all the attackers on his side. Despite their numbers, they were no match for the trio in the lodge. Florin was an expert marksman, and Erol and Yma had done enough hunting to be quite proficient. On the other side of the ledger, the people's committee were completely new to the business, some of them never having held a gun, and certainly not used to combat in woods.

When he went up front, he found that Erol had done a magnificent job despite his wound, beating back several attacks, and killing or wounding all his men. But he had received two more wounds and he was lying on the flagstone terrace in a litter of blood and cartridge cases.

The firing from the bushes at the side had stopped too, and Yma came rushing up, to kneel beside her father. She screamed at Florin to get bandages, but it was too late.

In the pastoral woods, men had fought and died, and now they felt tragedy. But the sky was still blue, and in a nearby dale, a bird warbled freely.

* * * * *

Late that night, Florin and Yma stopped at a small cabin in the mountains, finding it deserted. They had been travelling on foot since the fight, leaving the gyros as too obvious a method of travel.

Yma was still upset over her father's death, and Florin had remained quiet in consideration. The mountain paths were rocky and steep, and they were both exhausted. After a cold meal, they sat in the gathering darkness in the cabin and talked.

"I know it's inconsiderate of me to talk of it," Florin said, "but don't you feel resentment against the men who killed your father?"

She shook her head and said, "I can't feel resentment, I know that it was just circumstances. Those men felt justified in what they did--and maybe they were."

"How can you be so cold-blooded?" he said half-angrily. "Killing is never justified, and ignorance and violence against intelligent and kindly men are the supreme injustice."

"Why bother discussing the right and wrong of it," she said wearily. "It is all over with, all so meaningless--and easily forgotten."

"That's just it," Florin said earnestly. "You've got to think about it, decide who was right and who was wrong. You've got to decide so that you can base your future actions and attitudes on that. You can't just mark it off the books, for it will still be in your head, all jumbled emotion and no sense."

He was trying desperately to bring her out of apathy. He knew that the incident and all of its contributing factors must be clinically analyzed, for both their sakes.

Again she shook her head. "No, they were right, they were betrayed. Some of those people had their life's saving of luxury pay invested in the corporation-men, and when those men failed them, they lost their savings and their futures. Poverty is a treacherous catalyst, it makes men do weird and horrible things. Common tricks of psychology added to that, make the whole mess into a primitive society of revenge and hatred."

Florin saw he had her on the right track, but ran his hand through his hair in bewilderment as he asked, "But why? We can see the result, but nobody is willing to tell the cause. I've got to know."

She looked at him, barely discernable in the dark cabin, then said, "Why are you so interested? Why did you help us?"

"I told you. I was a student of Tomlin, and a believer in the principles of this planet. I saw it produce a society where intelligence and virtue were manifest--whether for mercenary or other reasons is inconsequential. It worked, and it made a wonderful world. I wanted to do my part in that world--my world.

"Now I want to know _why_ my world has crumbled into a screaming madhouse of violence."

"Yes, I can understand all too well how you feel. It's really horrible when you have grown up in a society, learned about its every intricacy, its principles, and come to have faith in it--then see it suddenly disintegrate.

"You come to think of your society as the universe, nothing else is as permanent as your world, your people. You make plans and move through that society, believing in it with a faith stronger than any religious faith--for you can see and understand it constantly.

"Then something like this happens. The familiar still exists, but palled with suffering and horror. People you have known suddenly become beasts. Your world has collapsed. And even if you know the reason, it doesn't seem possible, the reason is out of a textbook and unreal, but the disillusionment and despair are all too real.

"And from such a disintegration, you learn one important thing--how abysmally ignorant you are of the society that you've lived in, and of people in general."

There was a long silence.

Finally she said, "I believe in you, and I believe you should know the reason."

It was a strange scene as the two people, dirty and tired, sat in the crude cabin by the moonlight and discussed the fate of a world.

"When this planet was colonized," Yma began, "everyone laughed at us, and said that our radical socio-economic system couldn't work. All types of people started here. Some were merely looking for a final refuge, some were criminals and confidence men out to 'take' this 'starry-eyed flock of crackpots'. Most of them, though, were solid citizens, who believed that this system of paying a man for his intelligence and virtue on a carefully regulated basis was the proper compromise between reality and altruism to achieve a Utopia.

"As you know, it did produce a peaceful, cultural world that has few if any equals in the galaxy. There was one dangerous element in the plan though. Men were paid for their ability and it was money that was used; and wherever there is money there is dishonesty and greed. We had security and precautions against such things disrupting us internally, but we never counted on outside interference.

"We joined that galactic company known as Universal Relief. Our government maintained that it performs the highest type of good deeds, they do it for profit, nevertheless it was still a beneficial organization. Its motive of meritorious work for profit was quite similar to our own economic structure, so we invested heavily in the company, both on an individual and a governmental level. We also gave them a large premium, because of our--well, our eccentricity. We were considered unstable, and I guess the company knew what it was talking about." The last comment was with a wry bitterness that stung Florin.

"Anyway, in the last few years a rival company has sprung up. This company, Galactic Aid, has made great strides and is a serious competitor to Universal Relief.

"--The managers of Galactic Aid thought that if they could take our account and investment from Universal, Galactic Aid would have a distinct advantage and eventually break their competitor. They tried salesmanship first, but we were loyal to the original company.

"Then they tried other means."

Until then her story had been told in the dispassionate voice of a mechanical reader, but when she continued, there was vehemence.

"In a galactic company there is inconceivable power, and inconceivable greed. They are willing, and able, to go to any lengths to gain an economic advantage over a rival. The fate of one planet, more or less, is irrelevant.

"Galactic Aid's method of destroying us for that advantage was very crude and very simple; but effective because of its simplicity.

"As you know, the ratio of corporation-men to citizens here is very disproportionate, and the economy of the planet is vested in comparatively few individuals. These few people were the ones Galactic Aid attacked.

"They sent their agents to the corporation-men, my father included, and told them to stop research, writing, art, or whatever they were doing to earn their luxury pay. They promised protection if they were threatened by the people, and also promised full re-instatement after normalcy had returned, plus a sizeable bonus for co-operating. The ones who refused this offer, were threatened, each one personally and their families. It was mass terrorization, and they actually killed a few to prove their seriousness.

"Because of our social structure, this plan could, and did work. There are only 224 corporation-men with over a hundred stockholders. These people are, of course, quite clannish and have little actual contact with the masses. Therefore, this mass threat was heightened by the unity of the small group that it affected.

"You know the rest. Under this pressure the incorporated men stopped producing, the economy crumbled, and the riots began.

"We have developed a peaceful, cultural society, but no matter how civilized and stabilized a society is, once you knock out the financial props, the populace is going to go mad.

"The corporation-men didn't receive the promised protection. They soon realized that they had been tricked, but it was too late. Galactic Aid wanted them destroyed by the mob; they wanted murder and riots; and they wanted a Class AA emergency which would drain Universal Relief's resources.

"They wanted an economic debacle on Lyrane, thus cutting off a large source of Universal's income.

"When the corporation-men tried to tell the people the truth, the mobs called them liars and killed them."

Yma appeared to be more relaxed after she had relieved her burdened mind. Florin, however, was stunned.

"I know it's terrible," she said, "but what can we do? What can anyone do? Their plan has succeeded, and the planet is too far into chaos to patch up things.

"There is nothing that can be done, so we have only individual survival to consider."

Florin said, "I don't know what your personal plans are, but I've got to go back to the cities. I've got work to do." She didn't question him.

The next morning, after a solid night's sleep, they separated. Yma headed through the mountains to some relatives, while Florin struck out for the capital.

* * * * *

The office of the new, self-appointed Planetary Governor of Lyrane was quite busy. It was the disorganization of a new office, set up during an emergency. And yet, it was an office, a recognizable political mechanism.

Considering the murderous imbroglio that this planet had been facing, such an office, even in disorganized form, was quite surprising.

Due to the confusion and a knack for bluffing, Florin Brite was able to gain admittance to the Secretary-Governor's office. This official, a former municipal police chief, was obviously impressed with his new position. He was quite brusque to Florin.

"What is it man? I hope that it's important--don't want my time wasted. We're frightfully busy."

"I can see that, sir. I merely wished to establish my classification in the new administration."

"Good grief man!" the Secretary-Governor exploded. "We've published classification lists. Do I have to tell every man, woman and child their classification? Are you blind--or just too lazy to read?"

"My classification isn't listed," Florin said mildly.

"Isn't listed? What classification is that?"

"A scientist--and a former corporation-man."

Years of police work and interrogation had steeled the official. There was no surprise shown. "We handle those cases directly, Mr. ah--ah--"

"Florin Brite."

"Mr. Brite, there is a feeling of--uh--well, touchiness about such individuals so we handle their cases in confidence. I'm glad you came here--"

"Yes, you're quite delighted," Florin was no longer mild. "You're also quite amazed--for you had no idea that there were any corporation-men left after the 'purge', a very thorough purge, I might add."

"Now, see what I mean about touchiness? We were not responsible, not even involved in that mess. This new government is composed of citizens who merely wish stability and sanity. Co-operation is our keynote--"

"Cut it. I don't need the party platform, I've read your handbills. I just want to know, what about me?"

"Well, you will undoubtedly have to be put under some sort of protective custody. There is still strong feeling--"

Their tete a tete was interrupted by a rushing clerk shouting wildly.

"They did it! Universal Relief finally declared it a Class AA!"

The clerk was brandishing a sheet of paper, which he proffered to the Secretary, who took it with an expression of pleasure. His reading was interrupted by Florin's voice.

"It seems highly unnecessary that we be declared Class AA now. You people have done such a marvelous job of organizing an emergency government that everything seems to be well under control."

"Nonsense man," the Secretary declared. "There is still isolated fighting and rioting, even murder is not unusual."

"I merely wished to congratulate you on your speedy action. It was almost as if this government was waiting to spring into existence." The irony was very thinly veiled.

The Planetary Governor himself had entered the office while Florin was speaking.

There was ice in his voice as he said, "What do you mean by that, sir?"

Florin turned and bowed to him. When he spoke again, the veil was torn off and the irony was as flagrant as a dead rat--and as fragrant.

"Good day sir. I'm delighted to meet you. I was merely commenting to your Secretary on your efficiency and speed which has so helped this planet in its hour of need."

The Governor's eyes ossified. "Just words. What do you want?"

The irony disappeared, and Florin's voice transmuted to a tone of accustomed authority. "I want to find out just how you were able to organize and take over so quickly in this emergency. With this planet's economy completely shot after the corporation-men quit producing and with stocks down to nothing, I am fascinated by the problem of how you got financial backing."

"That is none of your business."

"On the contrary, it is very much my business. You left your offices in rather a turmoil in your rush to take control. Since you haven't had the time to security screen your governmental employees, the files were as open as if they'd been set on the sidewalks.

"From those files, my agents have procured some interesting items, such as--" and he paused to pull out a sheaf of papers--"cancelled checks made out to officials of your new government from Titanic Food Distributors, a subsidiary of Galactic Aid.

"Also a detailed plan of organization for this government, outlining each step for acquisition of power during the emergency. This plan is dated two years ago and is initialed 'CRS', which, I believe, are the initials of the president of Galactic Aid Incorporated. Hand-writing analysts will sew that one up.

"The plan is quite fascinating. It gives the procedure for your present establishment: the vigilantes gradually converted to city councils, local governments, consisting of confused and unprepared citizens gullible to the suggestions of agent provocateurs, regional then international conventions to formulate the new government. And at every turn, every election, guided by citizen-agents who would never have seen political power under the old status quo.

"The future of this plan is even more fascinating--putting Lyrane on an industrialized economy, when Lyrane has never had industrial potential, gumming up the works with embargoes and tariffs; and a bureaucratic, leech-like government that will sop up everything in taxes.

"It's a masterpiece of planning--of planning the permanent financial and moral destruction of a planet."

The planetary officials had suddenly been confronted by a master duelist, this stranger was a swords-man with complete command of riposte, parry and thrust. All they could do was try a few clumsy lunges.

"Just who the hell are you to take charge this way and say these preposterous things?" the Governor asked.

Florin replied. "You, I know, are a minor executive of one of Galactic Aid's subsidiaries. I happen to be Roald Gibbons, head of Universal Relief.

"And since you want the cards on the table--here they are.

"We have this evidence that I have mentioned, and much more, all under lock and key now. We will use that evidence to prove that this planetary government was and is sponsored by Galactic Aid for the purpose of exploiting this planet in a negative sense and thereby removing it from the accounts of Universal Relief.

"We also have a solid case to prove that you, or some of your cohorts, incited the original treason and violence that caused this whole mess. My special investigators have unearthed the cobra nest of your government, while I personally had the satisfaction of gathering proof of your hand in the corporation-men purge."

From a casual administrative difficulty, Florin had turned the conversation, since he entered, into a venomous attack. Florin had remained standing, but the two officials had retired to chairs. As opposition, they were discouragingly silent, but Florin had more than enough to carry the conversation alone.

The two governors were just listening, appalled, but as all men do when they watch their world crumbling, figuring angles, escapes, explanations. But Florin, or rather Roald, was smashing angles faster than they could think of them.

"Furthermore," he continued to the silent men, "if you will read that bulletin declaring this planet under Class AA emergency, you will find some interesting facts. As you may or may not know, when a planet is declared Class AA by a relief company, that company is empowered by galactic law to have several controls.

"Those controls consist of complete administration of the planet until status quo is resumed, establishment of martial law with the right to arrest and confiscate any persons or things that may have caused the emergency, confiscation of all planetary currency to be retained and re-issued at face value when normalcy returns and, of course, the right to bring charges in Galactic Court against individuals or organizations that have caused the emergency.

"On that last point, we, Universal Relief that is, have many charges to bring against Galactic Aid and its agents on this planet. First there is the charge of coercion, readily proved by the testimony of the corporation-men ... yes, there are some left. _We_ protected them. Other charges will include inciting planetary revolution, establishing a false government through outside sources, and--oh, just lots of others.

"Since you are an executive in Galactic Aid's organization, I will speak for your benefit now." Roald moved over and faced the Governor.

"You were pulled in from some desk job to handle this fledgling government. You had your orders, and for you it was mostly a paper operation. You understand what I have just been talking about, because you know galactic law.

"But now, let's talk about something you aren't familiar with. Let's talk about violence, death, and a sick planet--the things that your company planned and executed.