[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"You say it isn't normal?" Dillinger asked the recon pilot.
"Definitely not, sir. They fix their evening meal along about dark, when the fishing boats get in. When
that's over with, you can fly the whole coast without seeing a flash of light. Except where our men are.
I've never seen even one fire going this late."
"It's a pity we know so little about these natives," Dillinger said. "The only one I've ever talked with is
this Fornri, and there's always something distant about him. I never know what he's thinking. Colonial
Bureau should have sent a team to study them. They could use some help, too. Their fishing will fall off
even more when Wembling gets a mob of tourists out on the water. They'll need some agriculture. What
do you make of it, Protz?"
"It's suggestive, but darned if I know what it suggests."
"I know what it suggests," Dillinger said. "A strange ship lands this morning, and tonight every native
on the planet stays up all night. They're getting ready for something. We'd better get back and make a
few preparations of our own."
There was little that he could do. He had a defense line around each of Wembling's three building sites.
He had his ships sited to give maximum support. All that had been worked out months before. He placed
his entire command on alert, doubled the guard on the beaches, and set up mobile reserves. He wished
he had a few army officers to help out. He'd spent his entire adult life learning how to wage war in
space, and now for the first time in his military career he was faced with the possibility of battle, and he
was landbound, and in danger of being embarrassed by hordes of untrained natives.
The night intelligence sheet arrived at dawn, virtually blank. Except for the fires there was nothing to
report. Dillinger passed it across to Protz, who glanced at it and passed it back.
"Go down and see Wembling," Dillinger said. "Tell him to give his men the day off, and keep them in
their quarters. I don't want to see one of them around. That goes for him, too."
"He'll howl."
"He'd better not howl to me. If we knew these natives better, maybe we could see this thing from their
point-of-view. Somehow I just can't see them hitting us with an armed attack. It'd get a lot of them
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20krui...g%20&%20Mark%20Tier%20-%20Give%20Me%20Liberty.html (32 of 203)22-2-2006 0:37:25
Give Me Liberty
killed, and it wouldn't accomplish a thing. Surely they know that as well as we do. Now if you were a
native, and you wanted to stop Wembling's work, what would you do?"
"I'd kill Wembling."
Dillinger slapped his desk disgustedly. "O.K. Give him an armed guard."
"What would you do?"
"I'd plant some kind of explosive at carefully chosen points in the hotels. If it didn't stop the project
altogether, it'd throw an awful delay at Wembling's grand opening. You know "
"That might be it," Protz said. "It makes more sense than an all-out attack. I'll put special guard details
around the buildings."
Dillinger rose and went to the window. Dawn was touching Langri with its usual lavish beauty. The sea
was calmly blue under the rising sun. Off the point . . .
Dillinger swore softly.
"What's the matter?" Protz said.
"Look." Dillinger pointed out to sea.
"I don't see anything."
"Where's the fishing boat?"
"It isn't there."
"Every day as long as we've been on this planet there's been a fishing boat working off the point. Get the
recon planes out. Something is decidedly fishy."
Thirty minutes later they had their report. Every fishing boat on Langri was beached. The natives were
taking the day off.
* * *
"They seem to be congregating in the largest villages," the intelligence officer said. "A7 that's Fornri's
village, you know has the biggest crowd. And then B9, D4, F12 all along the coast. There are fires
all over the place."
Dillinger studied a photo map, and the officer circled the villages as he called them off. "At this point,"
Dillinger said, "there's just one thing we can do. We'll go over and have a little talk with Fornri."
"How many men do you want?" Protz asked.
"Just you and I. And a pilot."
They slanted down to a perfect landing in the soft sand of the beach. The pilot stayed with the plane, and
Dillinger and Protz climbed the slope to the village, making their way through throngs of natives.
Dillinger's embarrassment increased with each forward step. There was no sign of a sinister conspiracy.
A holiday atmosphere prevailed, the gaily dressed natives laughing and singing around the fires
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]