The Compleat Bolo

"I was there, too, Mr. Mayor," Crawford said in a challenging tone. "And any incursion here on Spivey's is contrary to treaty. We have to mobilize what strength we've got."

"And just what strength is that, sir?" Kibbe inquired skeptically. "There are forty-one able-bodied men here in the Orchard, no more."

"Then we'd better get moving," Crawford stated as if Kibbe had agreed with him.

"Doing what?" Kibbe came back angrily.

"Ge

While his elders wrangled, Mick eased away u

"Huh, wouldn't make a wart on old Jonah," Mick commented silently. Then he made his way back to Main Street and sought out Mr. Crawford, found him still in the mayor's office, now joined by half a dozen village elders, all talking at once.

"… call out the milishy!" one yelled.

"… ain't even drilled in a year," another commented.

After listening with open mouths to the boy's report, and properly rebuking him for meddling in adult affairs, the assembled leaders called for suggestions. Mr. Davis spoke up.

"This is clearly a matter for Sector to handle," the government man informed the local sachems. He rose. "And I'd best get a message off at once." Amid a hubbub of conjectures he took his leave. Mick and Dub slipped out inobtrusively and followed him.

With the confidence born of experience, the boys made for the rear of the museum, slipped inside, and were waiting out of sight when Davis entered his office. The phone rang; Davis replied with an impatient "Yes!"

"Very well," he responded to someone at the other end. "I'll be along presently. I'm quite aware I'm adjutant to Colonel Boone-though I can't see what good calling out the militia will do. We're not equipped to oppose a blitzkrieg."

The boys followed the sounds of Davis' actions as he recorded the call, cut the co

Now once more I feel the flow of healing energies washing over me. I attune my receptors and experience the resurgence of my vitality as the charge builds past minimal to low operational level. Instantly I become aware of radiation in the W-range employed by Deng combat equipment. The Enemy is near at hand. No wonder my commander has returned to restore me to service-readiness. I fine-tune my surveillance grids and pinpoint the Enemy positions: a small detachment at 200 yards on an azimuth of 271, and a larger force maneuvering one half-mile distant on a bearing of 045. I can detect no indication of any of our equipment in operation within my radius of perception. Indeed, all is not well; am I to wait here, immobilized, while the Enemy operates unhindered? But of course my commander has matters well in hand. He is holding me in reserve until the correct moment for action. Still, I am uneasy. They are too close. Act, my commander! When will you act?

Standing close to the old machine, his ears alert for the sounds from the adjacent office, Dub started as he heard a deep-seated clatter from inside the great bulk of metal.

Dub gripped Mick's arm. "Didja hear that, Mick?" he hissed urgently. "Sounded like old Joh

"All I heard was Davis telling somebody named Relay Five that old Pud Boone is all set to play soldiers with, he says, 'a sizable Deng task force' is what he said, 'poised,' he says, Tor attack,' says they better 'act fast to avert a tragedy.' Sounds like we won't get no big Navy ship in here to help out, like he figgered."

"It done it again," Dub told Mick, even as the glare-strips in the ceiling far above dimmed to a faint greenish glow. The boy stepped back and this time he was sure: the Bolo had moved.

"M-Mick, looky," he stammered. "It moved!"

"Naw, just the light got dim," Mick explained almost patiently. "Makes the shadders move." But he eased back.

"Mick, if it's anything we done, we'll catch it for sure!"

"Even if we did, who's go

Then, with an undeniable groan of stiff machinery, the Bolo advanced a foot, crushing the white-painted curbing.

"We better go tell old Davis 'bout Joh

"You mean 'Jonah'," Mick corrected. "And when he arrests you for trespassin', what you going to do?"

"Don't know," Dub replied doggedly, "but I'm going to go anyway," he crept away, shaking off Mick's attempt to restrain him.

Mick followed, protesting, as the small boy ran along the partition to the forbidden office door, and without pausing, burst in. Davis, seated at the SWIFT console was staring at him in amazement.

"Mr. Davis!" the boy yelled. "You gotta do something! We was jest looking at old Joh

"You know you've been a very bad boy," he said without heat, in the lull as Dub stifled his sobs. "But I'm sure no harm is done. Come along now; show me what's got you so upset." He rose, a tall and remote authority figure in the tear-blurred eyes of the eight-year-old, took the damp hand and led the boy toward the door, where Mick had appeared abruptly, less excited than Dub, but clearly as agitated as his big-boy self-image would allow.

"We didn't do nothing, Mr. Davis," he said doggedly, not meeting the man's eye. "The back door was open and we come in to look at old Jonah, and it made some kinda noise, and old Dub run. That's all's to it."

"We'll have a look, Mickey," Davis said gruffly. "You are young McClusky; they do call you Mickey, eh?"

"Mick, sir," young McClusky corrected. He fell in behind the man as they returned to stand before the huge, now-silent war machine. Davis' eye went at once to the crushed concrete curbing.

"Here," he said sharply. "How the devil-excuse me, boys, how did this happen? It must have moved forward at least a few inches," he mused aloud. "How in the world…" Abruptly, the faint light winked up to its normal level of wan brilliance. Simultaneously the Bolo emitted a faint, though distinct, humming sound.

Dub went directly across to the formidable but somehow pathetic old war machine. He reached up to pat the curve of the pressure hull comfortingly.

"Wish I could tell you all about what's happening, Joh

"I hear you very well, my commander," a constructed voice said clearly, at which Dub jumped back and peered up into the darkness.

"Who's there?" he asked in a small voice, suddenly appalled by his own foolishness in trespassing here.

"My commander," the words came distinctly from the machine. "I await your orders."