Zone Yellow

Chapter 18

After a considerable amount of confusion and some vocal disagreements among the rank and file, Captain Fsk got the whole bunch in line, four abreast, grumbling abreast, grumbling but obedient.

“Move out, Captain,” Swft ordered, and urged us slaves ahead.

We dutifully took our position, but Gus commented, “I hope we’re not being suckered, Colonel. I don’t trust these damn squirrels, none of ‘em!” He was looking hard at Swft.

“General Swft is dedicated to the overthrow of the group that’s backed the invasion,” I told him. “Actually, it’s a slave-raid, rather than a true invasion.”

“When I see them damn squirrels pushing people off the sidewalk,” he returned hotly, “and strutting in to take all the tables at my favorite cafe, I call it an invasion.”

“What do you want, Gus?” I asked him. “To put an end to the invasion, or just show off what a hell of a man you are?”

“Run ‘em out,” he conceded. “If play-acting will help, I’ll do it.”

“You sure will,” I confirmed. We were catching a bad smell from up ahead. We shuffled along in silence, and in a few minutes we saw masonry houses looming above trimmed trees, and came into the edge of what should have been a pleasant little town. The street was lined with tall, shabby masonry buildings with broken windows and missing cornices. But the dead were everywhere: lying on the walks and in the streets, stacked in alleys. It looked as if at first there had been some attempt to pile them up neatly, but later they’d just thrown them into heaps. Bones, mostly, but enough fresh corpses to show the Killing was still active. As I watched, a body fell from a high window, impacted in the street, and lay anonymously among the others.

I saw a feeble movement in a nearby pile. Someone was alive in there and trying to get out. I took an automatic step in that direction, but Swft caught my arm. “Colonel,” he said stiffly, “we have no time for kindly gestures.”

I felt an impulse to apologize, but I realized I was being influenced by the local paradigm; so I gave Swft a fierce look, and said, “I understand the needs of this force, General.”

A Ylokk came out of a shop that looked like small shops look everywhere. He glanced up, saw us, and let out a screech, as if he’d just discovered the town was on fire. Other rats appeared, forming up in a crescent-shaped barrier. Swft spoke to the captain; he barked an order and his troops hurried up to form up in two columns alongside us six “prisoners.” Swft came over and told me this was disgraceful; that the interference of the Two-Law squads had so far destroyed civil order that the mob felt it was appropriate to interfere with what was clearly an official detail guarding captive humongs. He stamped away to confront the still-gathering crowd and to deliver a short, deadly-sounding speech. The excited townsfolk began to drift away.

Then two burly, wharf-rat types pushed through to the front rank. One of them pointed at Andy, and both of them started toward him. Swft ordered them to stay clear. They ignored him. He waited until they were abreast of him, and abruptly bent forward, swinging his long torso sideways, and whipped it around, knocking both the troublemakers off their feet. A few of the crowd seemed to object, but most of them yelled something equivalent to “Bravo!” Swft went over and yanked the bigger of the two to his feet and spat words in his face, then threw him aside. The other scuttled away, yapping over his narrow shoulder at the mob as they parted to let him through.

“He’ll fetch the rest of the garrison,” Swft said. “I need to get you people out of sight, Colonel.”

That suited me. The muttering crowd was in a lynch mood; they just weren’t sure whom to lynch: the hated gang who had intruded on their peaceful lives, the representative of the old and presumably discredited order, or the humongs. We followed Swft’s gestures into a dim-lit interior, while he formed his bunch into a defensive square, covering the doorway. The townspeople were rapidly dispersing. Swft joined us inside what appeared to be a restaurant, and gave orders to a scared-looking old rat with a gray-tipped pelt. We sat down on the too-low benches and in a moment a young ratess put long wooden trenchers full of some kind of stew in front of us. It smelled neutral.

“This is good, wholesome food,” Swft assured us as he dipped in. Baby picked tentatively at hers, then nodded―she had her head-gestures right―and said, “Det ar bra, Farbro Swft.” I tasted mine: it seemed to be a sort of mushroom-and-nut goulash, not bad. While we ate, the noises outside developed into a full-fledged crowd-roar whipped along by the shrill yelps of the Two-Law boys. They seemed to be preparing for an assault on the restaurant. I asked Swft what he had in mind next.

“I promised you safe conduct,” he told me. “You shall have it.” A window shattered as a rock sailed through and thumped on the floor. The host, all atwitter, hurried outside, squeaking, and staggered back a moment later, bleeding. Swft went to the entry, paused for a moment, and went out, to be confronted by the front rank of the noisy mob. He knocked a few of them aside, and said, as well as I could interpret:

“Those who would interfere with me and my troops, in defiance of peace and order, and of the law of the Governance, will very soon discover the error of their ways. You will ignore the impertinent intruders who are urging you to disorder, and return to your usual tasks. I shall deal with the rabble-rousers in just and dispassionate fashion. Now go!”

A short but burly rat charged him, to be met with a snap of Swft’s jaws that sent him back, bleeding from a nasty bite on his stubby forearm. Two more tried and were felled by Swft’s snappy torso-sweep. The townspeople were churning around uncertainly, waiting to see who was going to win. More of the Two-Law bullies came out of a side street at a run, swept around the crowd, and began to close in from both sides. Swft stepped back inside and confronted me. “You see the situation, Colonel. Our social order is badly disturbed. Ordinarily, one word from me would have been enough to disperse this crowd―and as for the Two-Law trash―pah!” He caught my eye. “You must get Her Highness through to safety, Colonel!” He was sounding desperate. “I’ve spoken to Captain Fst, and you may rely on him, insofar as his small command can help you.”

He turned to Baby then. “Highness,” he said. “I return now to my duty. Pray put your reliance in Colonel and his humongs.” Then he turned and went back outside. The mob noise rose even higher, and I heard the unmistakably meaty thud! of a rock hitting flesh. I saw Swft recoil, turn slowly, and fall sideways. The crowd surged over him. That seemed somehow to defuse them, or bring them to their senses. They drew back from Swft’s body, leaving a pitiful heap in the street. A Two-Law thug started to yell something, and was at once knocked down. The townspeople were moving back and away, disappearing down the side street whence they had come. Swft’s body looked very lonely out there on the cobbles.

“Djaveln!” Andy said at last. Smovia was comforting Baby, who was babbling about “Unca Swft.” The host appeared, looking anxious, and I shunted him into a corner, just as he was darting back into his hutch at the back of the room.

He dithered, then decided to be cooperative. “You fools!” he snarled. “You’ll get us all killed!”

“Whose side are you on?” I demanded.

He tried to duck past me, and yelled “guard!”

He was looking to Baby in her cop-coat for help. She was busy.

I pushed him back into the corner. “That was Lieutenant General Lord Swft they murdered out there,” I told him. “He was fighting for the outster of these hoodlums and a return to peace and order. Where do you stand?”

“The vandals broke in here, and robbed my larder,” he whined. “Where are the troops of Her Majesty?”

“Why didn’t you throw them out?” I demanded.

“They were many and I was alone,” he moaned. “What could I do?”

“If the whole town had united against them,” I pointed out, “you could have locked them all in the local dungeon.”

“But there were many who hoped to profit,” the innkeeper complained. “I saw them, just now, standing by outside, while the Two-Laws killed your friend, eager to take a share of the loot.”

“Are you willing to do something now?” I asked him. “It’s not too late to take your town back.”

“What?” he was yelping. “What can we do now? All order is fled, peace is a forgotten fancy. They lord it over us all, treat us as mere slaves―oh, beg your pardon, sir.”

“It’s all right,” I told him. “We’re not slaves. These troops here are our prisoners―those that aren’t on our side.”

“But you can’t―Why did they stand by and allow―” He became incoherent―not that I was an expert on colloquial―and hysterical―Ylokk dialect, anyway.

“What are we going to do now, sir?” Helm wanted to know. “With the general dead, how―?”

“First we’re going to get his body in here: show the respect he’s earned. Then we’ll have to get into the city and inside the Skein technical compound,” I told him.

Doc Smovia was at the door, checking the chance of getting to Swft’s body. “I think the troops should bring him in, Colonel,” he said.

“Tell Captain Fsk to break the square, send two men after Swft, and retreat inside,” I instructed.

Smovia relayed the message then growled, “What about those Two-Law bastards? And when do I get to start my epidemiological work? These people are sick.”

“As soon as we’ve dealt with the rebels,” I replied.

“We need to do our work here and get home!” Smovia burst out.

“Damn right!” Gus blurted. His fat face was flushed.

The troops came in carrying Swft carefully and squeaking excitedly.

Baby threw herself into the group crying, “He’s alive! He’s alive!”

Smovia immediately started issuing orders and clearing the way for an examination. “Andy! Take Baby and try to keep her calm,” was the only thing he said for a while. Then, “I think he’ll live. He’s going to need a kind of care I’m not sure we can provide.”

“Do the best you can,” I told him. “The general almost gave his life for us. We owe him something.”

“Damn rat town,” old Gus contributed.

I’d had enough of his big mouth. I put a fist in it and told him if I heard any more unsolicited advice out of him I’d have to do it again, only harder.

He was rubbing his jaw and then looking amazed at the blood on his hand. “Got no call,” he started.

I made a shoving motion. “Stand in the corner and shut up,” I ordered him.

Smovia started to interfere, but Andy shushed him.

Gus turned to Ben. “He’s gonna sell us to the rats―” he babbled. Helm spun him around and socked him in the belly, then shoved him into the corner.

The innkeeper was dithering as he listened, uncomprehending, to our discussion in English.

I summoned my patchy knowledge of the Ylokk language and asked him if he’d decided where he stood. He gulped and said, “By the side of Right! If you strange beings intend to attack these ruffians, I’m with you.”

I congratulated him and asked him if he’d care to start by provisioning us for our expedition into the capital and arranging for the care of Swft.

“Oh, better than that, sir!” he was eager to assure me. “I have the honor to place at your disposal my conveyance, with myself as conductor! They know me well in the city. I, Bnk, am, by appointment, purveyor to the Jade Palace of fresh provender daily―except that these scum have prevented me, these two weeks now. Come, I shall show you my equipage.” I followed the old fellow out back and dutifully looked at a sagging two-wheeled cart, lacking only a broken-down plow-horse to be a perfect picture of inadequate transportation.

“Still,” Smovia said behind me. “Presuming there’s a draft animal, it’s better than walking. Our blisters could become septic, if we don’t tend them soon. And it will allow us to keep Swft immobile while he recovers.”

“Sure,” I agreed. “We’ll accept,” I told Bnk. As soon as we could get the cart loaded with whatever he normally delivered to the Palace, we’d be ready to go. He took us back inside and showed us which bales and kegs to load up. Smovia fixed up the space for Swft, and I set Gus and Ben to the job while the rest of us stood guard. Gus complained until I rapped him again. He was one of those slow learners. Marie tried to comfort him, but he snarled at her. It seemed she was afraid of him.

“Whatever shall I tell the Lord Chamberlain?” Bnk inquired of a hostile universe.

“Tell him the truth,” I suggested.

“And how am I to explain yourselves?” he wanted to know next.

“We’ll get under the tarp,” I told him.

“Colonel,” Andy signed in, “do you really think they’ll let us waltz out of here with a ioad of valuable supplies?”

“Bnk has his rounds to make,” I told him, “and they ought to be willing to let him make his delivery to Grgsdn in the Palace. We’ll lie low until we’re clear of town.”

Bnk fetched a strange, hippo-sized, tapir-like animal from a leanto and harnessed it to the cart. It smelled like well-aged barnyard. Bnk was absently patting the dung-caked flank and batting at the big blue flies. There was very little room left in the cart for six people. We could let Minnie ride on the seat with Unca Bnk. She called all adult males “Unca”; she didn’t seem to make any distinction between Ylokk and human, but she had kind of taken a shine to Marie, who seemed to reciprocate the attraction. Aside from her tending to baby-talk in English, she seemed like a levelheaded ten-year old. But no doubt Smovia and Helm had started off talking baby-talk to her and had gotten used to it, and she naturally learned what she heard.

There was a stiff, smelly tarp with the cart; I arranged it so as to give us full cover but still allow a little breathing, plus a spy-hole for me. I gave Bnk his instructions: to act as if it were a normal delivery, and to expect no interference; if he got any, he was to object loudly and keep going.