The Randall Garrett MEGAPACK®. Randall Garrett

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СКАЧАТЬ On the other hand, it would probably not come to that, since the strangers were outnumbered by at least three to one.

      The chieftain gave his orders for the defense of the village.

      * * * *

      The invading Earthmen approached the small town cautiously from the west. The commander had his men spread out a little, but not so much that they could be separated. He saw the aliens grouped around the square, boxlike buildings, watching and waiting for trouble.

      “We’ll give them trouble,” the commander whispered softly. He waited until his troops were properly deployed, then he gave the signal for the charge.

      The carriers went in first, thundering directly into the massed alien warriors. Each carrier-man fired a single shot from his power weapon, and then went to work with his carrier, running down the terrified aliens, and swinging a sword with one hand while he guided with the other. The commander went in with that first charge, aiming his own carrier toward the center of the fray. He had some raw, untrained men with him, and he believed in teaching by example.

      The aliens recoiled at the onslaught of what they took to be horrible living monsters that were unlike anything ever seen before.

      Then the commander’s infantry charged in. The shock effect of the carriers had been enough to disorganize the aliens, but the battle was not over yet by a long shot.

      There were yells from other parts of the village as some of the other defenders, hearing the sounds of battle, came running to reinforce the home guard. Better than fifteen hundred men were converging on the spot.

      The invading Earthmen moved in rapidly against the armed natives, beating them back by the sheer ferocity of their attack. Weapons of steel clashed against weapons of bronze and wood.

      The power weapons were used only sparingly; only when the necessity to save a life was greater than the necessity to conserve weapon charges was a shot fired.

      The commander, from the center of the fray, took a glance around the area. One glance was enough.

      “They’re dropping back!” he bellowed, his voice carrying well above the din of the battle, “Keep ’em moving!” He singled out one of his officers at a distance, and yelled: “Hernan! Get a couple of men to cover that street!” He waved toward one of the narrow streets that ran off to one side. The others were already being attended to.

      The commander jerked around swiftly as one of the natives grabbed hold of the carrier and tried to hack at the commander with a bronze sword. The commander spitted him neatly on his blade and withdrew it just in time to parry another attack from the other side.

      By this time, the reinforcements from the other parts of the village were beginning to come in from the side streets, but they were a little late. The warriors in the square—what was left of them—had panicked. In an effort to get away from the terrible monsters with their deadly blades and their fire-spitting weapons, they were leaving by the same channels that the reinforcements were coming in by, and the resultant jam-up was disastrous. The panic communicated itself like wildfire, but no one could move fast enough to get away from the sweeping, stabbing, glittering blades of the invading Earthmen.

      “All right,” the commander yelled, “we’ve got ’em on the run now! Break up into squads of three and clear those streets! Clear ’em out! Keep ’em moving!”

      After that, it was the work of minutes to clear the town.

      The commander brought his carrier to a dead stop, reached out with his sword, and snagged a bit of cloth from one of the fallen native warriors. He began to wipe the blade of his weapon as Lieutenant commander Hernan pulled up beside him.

      “Casualties?” the commander asked Hernan without looking up from his work.

      “Six wounded, no dead,” said Hernan. “Or did you want me to count the aliens, too?”

      The commander shook his head. “No. Get a detail to clear out the carrion, and then tell Frater Vincent I want to talk to him. We’ll have to start teaching these people the Truth.”

      VIII

      “Have you anything to say in your defense?” the commander asked coldly.

      For a moment, the accused looked nothing but hatred at the commander, but there was fear behind that hatred. At last he found his voice. “It was mine. You promised us all a share.”

      Lieutenant commander Hernan picked up a leather bag that lay on the table behind which he and the commander were sitting. With a sudden gesture, he upended it, dumping its contents on the flat, wooden surface of the table.

      “Do you deny that this was found among your personal possessions?” he asked harshly.

      “No,” said the accused soldier. “Why should I? It’s mine. Rightfully mine. I fought for it. I found it. I kept it. It’s mine.” He glanced to either side, towards the two guards who flanked him, then looked back at the commander.

      The commander ran an idle finger through the pound or so of golden trinkets that Hernan had spilled from the bag. He knew what the trooper was thinking. A man had a right to what he had earned, didn’t he?

      The commander picked up one of the heavier bits of primitive jewelry and tossed it in his hand. Then he stood up and looked around the town square.

      The company had occupied the town for several weeks. The stored grains in the community warehouse, plus the relaxation the men had had, plus the relative security of the town, had put most of the men back into condition. One had died from a skin infection, and another from wounds sustained in the assault on the town, but the remainder were in good health.

      And all of them, with the exception of the sentries guarding the town’s perimeter, were standing in the square, watching the court-martial. Their eyes didn’t seem to blink, and their breathing was soft and measured. They were waiting for the commander’s decision.

      The commander, still tossing the crude golden earring, stood tall and straight, estimating the feeling of the men surrounding him.

      “Gold,” he said finally. “Gold. That’s what we came here for, and that’s what we’re going to get. Five hundred pounds of the stuff would make any one of you wealthy for the rest of his life. Do you think I blame any one of you for wanting it? Do you think I blame this man here? Of course not.” He laughed—a short, hard bark. “Do I blame myself?”

      He tossed the bauble again, caught it. “But wanting it is one thing; getting it, holding it, and taking care of it wisely are something else again.

      “I gave orders. I have expected—and still expect—that they will be obeyed. But I didn’t give them just to hear myself give orders. There was a reason, and a good one.

      “Suppose we let each man take what gold he could find. What would happen? The lucky ones would be wealthy, and the unlucky would still be poor. And then some of the lucky ones would wake up some morning without the gold they’d taken because someone else had relieved them of it while they slept.

      “And others wouldn’t wake up at all, because they’d be found with their throats cut.

      “I told you to bring every bit of the metal to me. When this thing is over, every one of you will get his share. If a man dies, his share will СКАЧАТЬ