The Queen of Zamba

XII.

As Hasselborg's toes struck the wooden top of the nearest packing case, he thanked the local gods for the soft-leather Krishnan boots, which let him alight silently. The window sill was about the height of his chin, so that he should be able to get out without much trouble. He stalked catlike around the top of the case, peering about to plan his route. Da'yi was still with him, for an easy route led down by a series of crates and piles of sacks of diminishing heights.

"Chuen!" he whispered. "It's okay; we can leave the ladder where it is. Hand me my sword."

Chuen's bulk blocked the dim light through the window as he heaved himself over the sill with surprising quietness for one of his build. Together they stole down the piles of merchandise to the floor and walked steathily towards the candlelight. Twice they got lost in the maze of aisles between the rows of crates. Finally they came to the corner of the building where the candle was located.

Looking around the corner of a pile of bags, Has-selborg espied a little cleared space, with a desk and a chair, and the candle burning in a holder on a shelf. Just outside the cleared space stood the packing case they were after. And, in the angle between the case and the wall, a man sat with legs asprawl, sleeping—one of the boat crew.

As Hasselborg moved to get a better view, his scabbard struck against the merchandise and gave forth a faint tink. Instantly the man's eyes opened. For two seconds these eyes swiveled before coming to rest on Hasselborg and his companion.

Instantly the man bounded to his feet, holding a scimitar that had lain on the floor beside him, and sprang towards the intruders. Hasselborg jumped away from the crates to get elbow room and drew his sword. The man, however, went for Chuen. The curved blade swished through the air and met the pry bar with a clank.

Hasselborg stepped toward them and cut at the man, who saw him coming and skipped away before the blow arrived. Then he came back again, light and fast, cutting right and left. Hasselborg parried as best he could, wishing he were an experienced swordsman so that he could skewer this slasher. Clong, dzing, thump! Chuen had stepped behind the man and conked him with the crow. The man's saber clanged to the floor and the man followed it, falling to hands and knees.

He shook his head, then reached for his sword.

"No you don't!" said Hasselborg. In his excitement he spoke English, but nevertheless got his meaning across by whacking the outstretched hand with the flat of his blade.

"Ao!" cried the man, nursing his knuckles.

"Shut up and back up," said Hasselborg, remembering his Gozashtandou.

The man started to comply, but Chuen landed heavily on his back, flattening him out, and twisted his arms behind him.

"Amigo," said the Chinese, "cut length of rope off one of these bales and give it to me."

Hasselborg did so, wondering if there were not some easier way of making a living. While during hot action he never had time to be afraid, it gave him a queasy feeling when he came to reckon up the odds afterwards. When the man's wrists and ankles had been secured, they rolled him over and shoved him roughly back against the wall.

"Like to live?" asked Hasselborg, holding his point under the man's chin.

"Of course. Who be ye, thieves? I but guard the goods while—"

"Pipe down. Answer our questions, and in a low voice, or else. You're one of those who came down in the boat from Koloft, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Wait," said Chuen. "What's become of the regular watchman?"

"Gone reveling. There's a place near here he's long craved to visit, but can't because their working hours be the same as his. Since I was to stay the night anyway, I told him to take himself off whilst I watched."

Chuen looked at Hasselborg, who nodded confirmation, saying: "I saw the man leave this building while I was waiting for you." Hasselborg then asked the riverman: "Where's the rest of your boatload?"

"Out on the town, even as the watchman, may Dupulan rot his soul!"

"When do they shove off?"

"Tomorrow, as soon after sunrise as their night's joys'll let 'em."

"D'you know whom this box is for?"

"The Dour of Zamba, so they say."

"Do you know this dour? Have you ever seen him?"

"No, not I."

"When's he due in Majbur?" *

"Tomorrow ere sunset."

Chuen interposed: "Whom did you get this box from in the first place?"

"Earthman at Novorecife."

"What Earthman?"

"I—uh—know not his name; some unpronounceable Ertso—"

"You'd better remember," said Hasselborg, pricking the man's skin with his point. "I'm going to shove—"

"I know! I remember! 'Twas Master Julio Gois! Take away your sticker!"

Hasselborg whistled. "No wonder he tried to have me bumped off!"

"What's this?" asked Chuen.

Hasselborg told of his experiences with the Dasht of Rüz.

"Of course!" said Chuen. "Think I know. He didn't believe your story about Miss Batruni and took you for man after the guns. I wouldn't have believed it myself."

"But why should Gois go in for a smuggling scheme of this kind? What would he stand to gain from it?"

"No need for material gain. He's—ah—fanatic about progress."

"So that's why he said that no matter what happened, always to remember that he esteemed me! The twerp liked me well enough as a man, but since I threatened his world-changing scheme, as he thought, I'd have to be liquidated."

"Undoubtedly." Chuen turned back to the prisoner and switched to the latter's tongue, asking for more details. The few he got, however, were not such as to change the general outlines of what they already knew.

"I think you've pumped our friend dry," said Hasselborg at last. "Let's have a look at the crate."

With the pry bar they soon ripped the crate open. Inside, ranged in a double row in a rack, were twenty-four well-greased Colt-Thompson 6.5-millimeter light machines rifles. A compartment at the bottom of the crate held thousands of rounds of ammunition.

Hasselborg took one gun out and hefted its four kilos of weight. "Just look at these little beauties! You can adjust them for any reasonable rate of automatic or semiautomatic fire; you can set this doohickus to fire in bursts of two to ten shots. With one of these and plenty of ammunition I'd take on a whole Krishnan army."

"No doubt what friend Fallon has in mind," said Chuen. "Now that we got them, what shall we do with?"

"I was wondering myself. I suppose we could tote them an armful at a time down to the river and dump them in."

"That would fix Fallon's plans, all right, but then where would evidence be?"

"What evidence?"

"Evidence against smuggling ring. I don't care much about King Anthony. Lots of disguised Earth-men adventuring around Krishna, and if we get rid of him there will just be another soon. Main thing is to bust up gang inside Viagens Interplanetarias."

"Let me think," said Hasselborg. "By the way, now that we've drained this gloop, what'll we do with him? While we can't very well let him go, I don't like to kill the guy in cold blood."

"Why not? Oh, excuse, I forget you're an Anglo-Saxon. If not kill him, then what?"

Hasselborg felt in his pockets. "I think I've got it. Where's a pitcher and a glass?" He rummaged until he found a brass carafe and mug.

"What are you doing?" asked Chuen.

"See this? It's a trance pill that'll lay him out cold for a couple of weeks."

"I don't see how Novorecife authorities let you take that out."

Hasselborg grinned. "This is one they didn't know about. Or rather they thought it was an ordinary longevity pill. You might say it is, in a way, since I'll have a better chance of a long life on account of it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Knock him out, move the crates around to make a hiding place, and leave him there with enough air to keep him alive till he wakes up. In this mare's nest, we can hide him so it'll take a month to find him."

"All very well, but what when watchman come back? And what about the guns?"

Hasselborg had set down his water and was toying with the machine gun, working the bolt and squinting along the sights. He was careful to keep the muzzle pointed away from the others.

"Let's see—" he said. "I used to be able to strip and assemble these blindfolded." He unscrewed a wingnut and took out the bolt mechanism. "As I recall, one of the tricks they played on us in the Division of Investigation was to wait till we had the parts all laid out, then steal the firing pin while we were sitting there blind, and hope we'd put the gun back together without it. Maybe we could—"

"Take out firing pins—" said Chuen.

"And reassemble the guns—"

"Then let Fallon pick up guns—"

"Yes, while I tear back to Hershid and get my private army!"

Hasselborg and Chuen slapped each other's backs in sudden enthusiasm. Then the former said:

"But still we haven't disposed of the janitor. When he comes back and finds nobody—"

"He'll think his companion went off for fun too, yes?"

"Maybe—"

"I know," said Chuen. "We put this man to sleep, disarm the guns, nail crate back together. Then I disguise myself with this man's hat and sword like member of the boat crew. I look more like Krishnan than you. I tell watchman I'm member of the boat crew who relieved this man during night so he can have fun too. Then I leave in morning, saying I got to catch boat back to Koloft. Really I hang around to make sure Fallon get the guns. Meantime you take your buggy and ride back to Hershid like you said, catch Fallon, and turn him over to me."

"Yeah, but when the boat crew find a man missing—"

Chuen shrugged. "We hope they think he got lost in a dive and go off without. I'll be ready to duck if they come around looking for him anyway."

Hasselborg looked at his machine gun with narrowed eyes. "Chuen, how badly do you want Fallon?"

"Ah—so-so. Don't care much so long as I get Gois and other Viagens conspirators. I suppose since

Fallon conspired to break regulations, I should bring him in, too. Why?"

"I was thinking that my need may be greater than thine."

"How so?"

"I'm supposed to bring Miss Batruni back to Earth. Now, I can't drag her aboard a spaceship; the minute I get her inside the wall at Novorecife she'll be under Earth law."

"Yes?"

"If you did bring Fallon in to Novorecife, what would happen then?"

"I'd present evidence at preliminary hearing before Judge Keshavachandra, who would order a trial. If he's convicted, go to jail. That's all."

"He'd be tried on Krishna?" said Hasselborg.

"Yes."

"How about appeals?"

"Interstellar Circuit Court of Appeals take care of that. Visit Krishna every couple years to hear appeals. What are you getting at?"

"I wondered if there were any way of having him tried on Earth. You see, if he were dragged back to Earth, Julnar Batruni would probably come back to Earth without urging. Follow me?"

"No chance. Fallon's offenses were all committed on Krishna."

"In that case, chum, I think I do need him more than you do. You see, I'll need some hold on Miss Batruni, and at the moment I can't think of a better one than to leave Fallon under duress here."

"Oh. Wouldn't that get you in trouble with Terran law, being accessory to false imprisonment or something?"

"No it wouldn't, since the imprisonment would be on Krishna outside of Novorecife. If this were a planet with extradition, it might make me liable to trouble, but it isn't, since they haven't yet got habeas corpus and things like that."

"I see. But look, companheiro, maybe if Fallon is in jail at Novorecife, Miss Batruni would go back to Earth for not knowing what else to do, don't you think?"

"Might, or might not. Maybe she loves him enough to stick around Novorecife to be near him; or maybe she'd go back to her island and tell the Zambans: 'Your king's in the clink, so as queen I'm running the joint for him until he gets out.' Women rulers are fairly common on this part of Krishna. No, I think my scheme is the only one I can count on."

"How will you manage it?"

"I haven't worked it all out yet, but I've got an idea. With your help I'm sure we can put it across."

They sat looking at each other by candlelight silently for a full minute. Hasselborg hoped Chuen would accede without making an issue of the case. Chuen was a good man to work with, but by the same token would be a dangerous antagonist. He hoped he wouldn't have to resort to threats to elicit further cooperation.

Chuen finally said: "I'll—ah—make deal. I help you catch Fallon the way you said. Then if I can get deposition from him against Gois, to help my case there, I'll let him stew in own soup. If authorities at Novorecife want him, I'll try dissuade them; tell them they'd need an army to catch him, and anyway he's turned state's evidence, and things like that. If they insist I bring him in, I'll have to try. You understand?"

Hasselborg thought a while in his turn. He finally replied: "Okay. Let's go to work."

While Hasselborg forced his trance pill on the unwilling riverman, Chuen picked up the curved sword. "Thought I'd never use one of these, but since I stopped that cut with the pry bar, I begin think I'm born swordsman, too. How you say in the Old English? Ha, villain!" He swished the blade through the air.