The Rebel Worlds

His reminder dampened hilarity. The troop settled in by a creek, under screening trees, without fire. Flandry suited up. He didn’t give any special alert to Woe or to his several solid allies among the men. They had arranged a system of signals many marches before.

“Be careful, Dominic,” Kathryn said. Her concern was a knife in him. “Don’t risk yourself. For all our sakes.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I enjoy living.” Oh, yes, I expect to keep on enjoying it, whether or not you will give it any real point. “Cheers.” He activated the impeller. In a second or two, he could no longer see her waving goodbye.

He flew slowly, helmet open, savoring the wind and salt smells as he followed the coastline north. The ocean of moonless Dido had no real surf, it stretched gray under the gray sky, but in any large body of water there is always motion and mystery; he saw intricate patterns of waves and foam, immense patches of weed and shoals of swimming animals, a rainstorm walking on the horizon. To his right the land lifted from wide beaches, itself a quilt of woods and meadows, crossed by great herds of grazers and flocks of flyers. By and large, he thought, planets do well if man lets them be.

Despite everything, his pulse accelerated when Port Frederiksen appeared. Here was his destiny.

The base occupied a small, readily defensible peninsula. It was sufficiently old to have become a genuine community. The prefab sheds, shelters, and laboratories were weathered, vine-begrown, almost a part of the landscape; and among them stood houses built from native wood and stone, in a breeze-inviting style evolved for this place, and gardens and a park. Kathryn had said the population was normally a thousand but doubtless far less during the present emergency. Flandry saw few people about.

His attention focused on the spacefield. If it held a mere interplanetary vessel, his optimum bet was to surrender. But no. Hugh McCormac had left this prized outpost a hyperdrive warship. She wasn’t big — a Conqueror-class subdestroyer, her principal armament a blaster ca

That’s my baby! He passed close. She didn’t appear to have more than the regulation minimum of two on duty, to judge from the surrounding desertion. And why should she? Given her controls, instruments, and computers, a single man could take her anywhere. Port Frederiksen would know of approaching danger in time for her perso

Emblazoned above her serial number was the name Erwin Rommel. Who the deuce had that been? Some Germanian? No, more likely a Terran, resurrected from the historical files by a data finder programmed to christen several score thousand of Conquerors.

People emerged from buildings. Flandry had been noticed. He landed in the park. “Hello,” he said. “I’ve had a bit of a shipwreck.”

During the next hour, he inquired about Port Frederiksen. In return, he was reasonably truthful. He told of a chance encounter with an enemy vessel, a crash landing, a cross-country hike. The main detail he omitted was that he had not been on McCormac’s side.

If his scheme didn’t work, the Aeneans would be irritated when they learned the whole truth; but they didn’t strike him as the kind who would punish a ruse of war.

Essentially they were caretakers: besides the Rommel’s crew, a few scientists and service perso

Physically, they were isolated. Interplanetary radio silence persisted, for Josipist ships had raided the Virgilian System more than once. Every month or so, a boat from Aeneas brought supplies, mail, and news. The last arrival had been only a few days before. Thus Flandry got an up-to-date account of events.

From the Aenean viewpoint, they were dismal. Manufacture, logistics, and communications were falling apart beneath Hugh McCormac. He had given up trying to govern any substantial volume of space. Instead, he had assigned forces to defend individually the worlds which had declared for him. They were minimal, those forces. They hampered but could not prevent badgering attacks by Snelund’s squadrons. Any proper flotilla could a

Against that development, McCormac kept the bulk of his fleet around Satan. If the Josipists gathered in full strength, he would learn of it from his scouts, go meet the armada, and rely on his tactical abilities to scatter it.

“But they know that,” Director Jowett said. He stroked his white beard with a hand that trembled. “They won’t give our Emperor the decisive battle he needs. I wonder if Snelund ’ull even call for reinforcements when Terra can spare them. He may simply wear us down. I’m sure he’d enjoy our havin’ a long agony.”

“Do you think we should yield?” Flandry asked.

The old head lifted. “Not while our Emperor lives!”

Folk being starved for visitors, Flandry had no trouble in learning more than he needed to know. They fell in readily with a suggestion he made. Rather than dispatch arrears to fetch his companions, why not use the Rommel? No instrumental readings or flashed communication from Aeneas indicated any immediate reason to hold her in condition red. Jowett and her captain agreed. Of course, there wouldn’t be room for the whole gang unless most of the crew stayed behind. The few who did ride along could use the practice.

Flandry had sketched alternative plans. However, this simplified his task.

He guided the ship aloft and southward. En route, he called the camp. Somebody was sure to be listening on a helmet radio. “All’s fine,” he said. “We’ll land on the beach exactly west of your location and wait for you. Let me speak with Ensign Havelock … Tom? It’s Q. Better have Yuan and Christopher lead off.”

That meant that they were to don their armor.

The ship set down. Those who ma

Two gleaming metal shapes hurtled into view above the treetops. A second afterward, they were at hover above the ship, with blasters aimed.

“Hands up, if you please,” Flandry said.

“What?” the captain yelled. A man snatched at his sidearm. A beam sizzled from overhead, barely missing him. Sparks showered and steam puffed where it struck.

“Hands up, I repeat,” Flandry snapped. “You’d be dead before any shot of yours could penetrate.”

Sick-featured, they obeyed. “You’re being hijacked,” he told them. “You might as well start home at once. It’ll take you some hours on shank’s mare.”

“You Judas.” The captain spat.

Flandry wiped his face and answered, “Matter of definition, that. Get moving.” Yuan accompanied the group for some distance.

Beforehand, suddenly drawn guns had made prisoners of men whose loyalty was in question. More puzzled than angry, Lightning Struck The House guided the uncoupled units aboard. Woe marched Kathryn up the ramp.

When he saw her, Flandry found business to do on the other side of the ship.

With his crew embarked and stations assigned, he hauled gravs. Hovering above the settlement, he disabled the interplanetary transmitter with a shot to its mast. Next he broadcast a warning and allowed the people time to evacuate. Finally he demolished other selected installations.

The Aeneans would have food, shelter, ground defenses. But they wouldn’t be going anywhere or talking to anybody until a boat arrived from Aeneas, and none was due for a month.

“Take her east, Citizen Havelock,” Flandry directed. “We’ll fetch our chums at Thunderstone and let off the surplus livestock. And, yes, we’ll lay in some food for the new Didonian. I think I may have use for heesh.”