[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
over the planet in half an hour. Never hold news out unnecessarily." He
stubbed out his cigarette. "Come on, sergeant."
As he hurried from the banquet-room, he could hear Keaveney tapping on his
wine-glass.
"Everybody, please! Let me have your attention! There has just come in a piece
of the most tragic news-----"
Chapter VII- Bbismillah How Dumb Can We Get?
The lights had come on inside the semicircular and now open storm-porch of
Company House, but it was still daylight outside. The sky above the mountain
to the west was fading from crimson to burnt-orange, and a couple of the
brighter stars were winking into visibility. Von Schlichten and the sergeant
hurried a hundred yards down the street between low, thick-walled office
buildings to the telecast station, next to the Administration Building.
A woman captain met him just inside the door of the big soundproofed room.
"We have a wavelength open to Konkrook, general," she said. "In booth three."
He nodded. 'Thank you, captain-----We've all lost a true friend, haven't we?"
Another girl, a tech-sergeant, was in the booth; on the screen was the image
of a third young woman, a lieutenant, at Konkrook station. The sergeant rose
and started to leave the booth.
"Stick around, sergeant," von Schlichten told her. "I'll want you to take over
when I'm through."
He sat down in front of the combination visiscreen and pickup. "Now,
lieutenant, just what happened?" he asked. "How did he die?"
"We think it was poison, general. General M'zangwe has ordered autopsy and
chemical analysis.
If you can wait about ten minutes, he'll be able to talk to you, himself."
"Call him. In the meantime, give me everything you know."
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"Well, the governor decided to go to bed early; he was going hunting in the
morning. I suppose you know his usual routine?"
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Von Schlichten nodded. Harrington would have taken a shower, put on his
dressing-gown, and then sat down at his desk, lighted his pipe, poured a drink
of Terran bourbon, and begun to write his diary.
"Well, at 2210, give or take a couple of minutes, the Kragan guard-sergeant on
that floor heard ten pistol-shots, as fast as they could be fired semi-auto,
in the governor's room. The door was locked, but he shot it off with his own
pistol and went in. He found Governor Harrington on the floor, wearing only
his gown, holding an empty pistol. He was in convulsions, frothing at the
mouth, in horrible pain. Evidently he'd Tired his pistol, which he kept on his
desk, to call help;
all the bullets had gone into the ceiling. The sergeant punched the emergency
button, beside the bed, and reported, then tried to help the governor, but it
was too late. One of the medics got there in five minutes, just as he was
dying. He'd written his diary up to noon of today, and broken off in the
middle of a word. There was a bottle and an overturned glass on his desk. The
Constabulary got there a few minutes later, and then Brigadier-General
M'zangwe took charge. A
white rat, given fifteen drops from the whiskey-bottle, died with the same
symptoms in about ninety seconds."
"Who had access to the whiskey-bottle?"
"A geek servant, who takes care of the room. He was caught, an hour earlier,
trying to slip off the island without a pass; they were holding him at the
guardhouse when Governor Harrington died.
He's now being questioned by the Kragans." The girl's face was bleakly
remorseless. "I hope they do plenty to him!"
"I hope they don't kill him before he talks."
"Wait a moment, general; we have General M'zangwe, now," the girl said. "I'll
switch you over."
The screen broke into a kaleidoscopic jumble of color, then cleared; the
chocolate-brown face of
Themistocles M'zangwe was looking out of it.
"I heard what happened, how they found him, and about that geek chamber-valet
being arrested," von
Schlichten said. "Did you get anything out of him?"
"He's admitted putting poison in the bottle, but he claims it was his own
idea. But he's one of
Father Keeluk's parishioners, so..."
"Keeluk! God damn, so that was it!" von Schlichten almost shouted. "Now I know
what he wanted with
Stalin, and that goat, and those rabbits!"
Five thousand miles away, in Konkrook, Themistocles M'zangwe whistled.
"Bismillah! How dumb can we get?" he cried. "Of course they'd need terrestrial
animals, to find out what would poison a Terran! Wait a minute; I'll make a
note of that, to spring on this geek, if the Kragans haven't finished him by
now." Von Schlichten watched M'zangwe pick up a stenophone and whisper into it
for a moment. "All right, Carlos, what else?"
"Has Eric been notified?"
"We called Keegark, but he's in audience with King Orgzild, and we can't reach
him."
"Well, who's in charge at Konkrook, now?"
"Not much of anybody. Laviola, the Fiscal Secretary, and Hans Meyerstein, the
Banking Cartel's lawyer, and Hewlett, the Personnel Chief, and Buhrmann, the
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Commercial Secretary, have made up a sort of quadrumvirate and are trying to
run things. I don't know what would happen if anything came up suddenly. ..."
A blue-gray uniformed arm, with a major's cuff-braid, came into the screen,
handing a slip of paper to M'zangwe; he took it, glanced at it, and swore. Von
Schlichten waited until he had read it through.
"Well, something has, all right," the African said. "We just got a call from
Jaikark's Palace-a revolt's broken out, presumably headed by Gurgurk;
Household Guards either mutinied or wiped out by the mutineers, all but those
twenty Kragan Rifles we loaned Jaikark. They, and about a dozen of
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Jaikark's courtiers and their personal retainers, are holding the approaches
to the King's apartments. The native-lieutenant in charge of the Kragans just
radioed in; says the situation is desperate."
"When a Kragan says that, he means damn near hopeless. Is this being
recorded?" When M'zang nodded, he continued: "All right. Use the recording for
your authority and take charge. I'm declaring martial rule at Konkrook, as of
now, 2253. Tell Eric Blount what's happened, and what you've done, as soon as
you can get in touch with him. I'm leaving for Konkrook at once; I ought to
get in by 0800.
"Now, as to the trouble at the Palace. Don't commit more than one company of
Kragans and ten airjeeps and four combat-cars, and tell them to evacuate
Jaikark and his followers and our Kragans to Gongonk Island. And alert your
whole force. These geek palace revolutions are always synchronized with
street-rioting, and this thing seems to have been synchronized with Sid
Harrington's death, too. Get our Kragans out if you can't save anybody else [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
over the planet in half an hour. Never hold news out unnecessarily." He
stubbed out his cigarette. "Come on, sergeant."
As he hurried from the banquet-room, he could hear Keaveney tapping on his
wine-glass.
"Everybody, please! Let me have your attention! There has just come in a piece
of the most tragic news-----"
Chapter VII- Bbismillah How Dumb Can We Get?
The lights had come on inside the semicircular and now open storm-porch of
Company House, but it was still daylight outside. The sky above the mountain
to the west was fading from crimson to burnt-orange, and a couple of the
brighter stars were winking into visibility. Von Schlichten and the sergeant
hurried a hundred yards down the street between low, thick-walled office
buildings to the telecast station, next to the Administration Building.
A woman captain met him just inside the door of the big soundproofed room.
"We have a wavelength open to Konkrook, general," she said. "In booth three."
He nodded. 'Thank you, captain-----We've all lost a true friend, haven't we?"
Another girl, a tech-sergeant, was in the booth; on the screen was the image
of a third young woman, a lieutenant, at Konkrook station. The sergeant rose
and started to leave the booth.
"Stick around, sergeant," von Schlichten told her. "I'll want you to take over
when I'm through."
He sat down in front of the combination visiscreen and pickup. "Now,
lieutenant, just what happened?" he asked. "How did he die?"
"We think it was poison, general. General M'zangwe has ordered autopsy and
chemical analysis.
If you can wait about ten minutes, he'll be able to talk to you, himself."
"Call him. In the meantime, give me everything you know."
Page 39
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Well, the governor decided to go to bed early; he was going hunting in the
morning. I suppose you know his usual routine?"
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E...es%20(4)/01%20-%20Uller%20Upris
ing%201.0.txt (33 of 76) [12/24/2004 11:42:32 PM]
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/Beam%20Piper,%...man/Federa
tion%20series%20(4)/01%20-%20Uller%20Uprising%201.0.txt
Von Schlichten nodded. Harrington would have taken a shower, put on his
dressing-gown, and then sat down at his desk, lighted his pipe, poured a drink
of Terran bourbon, and begun to write his diary.
"Well, at 2210, give or take a couple of minutes, the Kragan guard-sergeant on
that floor heard ten pistol-shots, as fast as they could be fired semi-auto,
in the governor's room. The door was locked, but he shot it off with his own
pistol and went in. He found Governor Harrington on the floor, wearing only
his gown, holding an empty pistol. He was in convulsions, frothing at the
mouth, in horrible pain. Evidently he'd Tired his pistol, which he kept on his
desk, to call help;
all the bullets had gone into the ceiling. The sergeant punched the emergency
button, beside the bed, and reported, then tried to help the governor, but it
was too late. One of the medics got there in five minutes, just as he was
dying. He'd written his diary up to noon of today, and broken off in the
middle of a word. There was a bottle and an overturned glass on his desk. The
Constabulary got there a few minutes later, and then Brigadier-General
M'zangwe took charge. A
white rat, given fifteen drops from the whiskey-bottle, died with the same
symptoms in about ninety seconds."
"Who had access to the whiskey-bottle?"
"A geek servant, who takes care of the room. He was caught, an hour earlier,
trying to slip off the island without a pass; they were holding him at the
guardhouse when Governor Harrington died.
He's now being questioned by the Kragans." The girl's face was bleakly
remorseless. "I hope they do plenty to him!"
"I hope they don't kill him before he talks."
"Wait a moment, general; we have General M'zangwe, now," the girl said. "I'll
switch you over."
The screen broke into a kaleidoscopic jumble of color, then cleared; the
chocolate-brown face of
Themistocles M'zangwe was looking out of it.
"I heard what happened, how they found him, and about that geek chamber-valet
being arrested," von
Schlichten said. "Did you get anything out of him?"
"He's admitted putting poison in the bottle, but he claims it was his own
idea. But he's one of
Father Keeluk's parishioners, so..."
"Keeluk! God damn, so that was it!" von Schlichten almost shouted. "Now I know
what he wanted with
Stalin, and that goat, and those rabbits!"
Five thousand miles away, in Konkrook, Themistocles M'zangwe whistled.
"Bismillah! How dumb can we get?" he cried. "Of course they'd need terrestrial
animals, to find out what would poison a Terran! Wait a minute; I'll make a
note of that, to spring on this geek, if the Kragans haven't finished him by
now." Von Schlichten watched M'zangwe pick up a stenophone and whisper into it
for a moment. "All right, Carlos, what else?"
"Has Eric been notified?"
"We called Keegark, but he's in audience with King Orgzild, and we can't reach
him."
"Well, who's in charge at Konkrook, now?"
"Not much of anybody. Laviola, the Fiscal Secretary, and Hans Meyerstein, the
Banking Cartel's lawyer, and Hewlett, the Personnel Chief, and Buhrmann, the
Page 40
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Commercial Secretary, have made up a sort of quadrumvirate and are trying to
run things. I don't know what would happen if anything came up suddenly. ..."
A blue-gray uniformed arm, with a major's cuff-braid, came into the screen,
handing a slip of paper to M'zangwe; he took it, glanced at it, and swore. Von
Schlichten waited until he had read it through.
"Well, something has, all right," the African said. "We just got a call from
Jaikark's Palace-a revolt's broken out, presumably headed by Gurgurk;
Household Guards either mutinied or wiped out by the mutineers, all but those
twenty Kragan Rifles we loaned Jaikark. They, and about a dozen of
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E...es%20(4)/01%20-%20Uller%20Upris
ing%201.0.txt (34 of 76) [12/24/2004 11:42:32 PM]
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/Beam%20Piper,%...man/Federa
tion%20series%20(4)/01%20-%20Uller%20Uprising%201.0.txt
Jaikark's courtiers and their personal retainers, are holding the approaches
to the King's apartments. The native-lieutenant in charge of the Kragans just
radioed in; says the situation is desperate."
"When a Kragan says that, he means damn near hopeless. Is this being
recorded?" When M'zang nodded, he continued: "All right. Use the recording for
your authority and take charge. I'm declaring martial rule at Konkrook, as of
now, 2253. Tell Eric Blount what's happened, and what you've done, as soon as
you can get in touch with him. I'm leaving for Konkrook at once; I ought to
get in by 0800.
"Now, as to the trouble at the Palace. Don't commit more than one company of
Kragans and ten airjeeps and four combat-cars, and tell them to evacuate
Jaikark and his followers and our Kragans to Gongonk Island. And alert your
whole force. These geek palace revolutions are always synchronized with
street-rioting, and this thing seems to have been synchronized with Sid
Harrington's death, too. Get our Kragans out if you can't save anybody else [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]