Lord Turn sighed. "I'm sorry, but it's impossible."
"Oh, well," said Teenie, "It was a nice try. So I guess I'll have to spill it to you."
"My dear... I mean Your Majesty, I would give half my head to get rid of Gris. But unfortunately I cannot. However," and he smiled, "I can't possibly see how he could cause any more trouble."
"It's plain you don't know Gris," said Teenie. "He lies, he cheats, he steals. But this time he's really done it. He has committed a crime right here in your own prison."
Lord Turn shook his head. "That's impossible."
"You don't know Gris," said Teenie. "This time he has
really
done it. And that's why I thought I could help. When I saw his picture on Homeview, I said, 'NO! It can't be! But there he is! That's Gris! He's done it AGAIN!'"
"My dear... WHAT has he done again?"
"The very same crime I sentenced him to life imprisonment for. BIGAMY!"
Lord Turn's eyes went round with shock. Bigamy was a capital crime on Voltar. "No, no, there must be some mistake. You must have the wrong man." He was pleading with himself, please, not more trouble with Gris.
Teenie said, "If he confronted me, you would know in a second that it is true."
"Oh, I hope there is some mistake," said Lord Turn. Then hastily, "Look, Your Majesty, we can settle this immediately. If you will consent to moving your palanquin into the courtroom, I will have Gris brought down."
Teenie nodded and they carried her chair out into the main courtroom. They set it down in the empty hall before the witness seat and enclosure. Teenie shut her curtains.
There was quite a wait. But at last, a very manacled Gris was brought, closely escorted by six armed guards.
Gris had not known why they were fetching him. The curtained chair meant nothing to him. But when he saw that he was not being taken to an execution chamber, and it was probably just a matter of some questions, some of his morale returned. He sat down in the railed witness box, trying to make a good impression on Lord Turn who was now taking a seat on his judge's dais.
"Gris," said Turn, "have you ever been sentenced to life imprisonment?"
"All my crimes are in my confession, Your Lordship."
"Well, that may or may not be," said Lord Turn. "I've not read it. So please just answer truthfully, were you ever tried and sentenced in a country called
Moviola?"
Gris had had a very hard night. But he knew that the last thing he must look was guilty about anything. After all, his crimes had all been done because of Heller and he had explained that in his confession. He forced an easy laugh. "That's ridiculous," he said.
"There is someone here who says otherwise," said Lord Turn and waved a hand at the closed palanquin.
Gris managed a confident smile. "There isn't anyone on Voltar who could allege such a falsity." And he looked easily at the curtains.
Suddenly, a blue-gloved hand shot the covering aside.
TEENIE!
Gris went white.
He leaped back!
He hit the rail of the witness box and went right through it!
With a rip of splintering timber he reached the limit of his shackles!
His velocity was so great he parted chain links!
He hit the wall!
He madly tried to get through it!
With a shrieking, frantic moan, he realized he could not escape.
He fainted.
Lord Turn looked at the crumpled heap of severed chains, fallen plaster and Gris amongst it, lying there unconscious, now, upon the floor. Lord Turn, in the saddest voice said, "Oh, no."
Lord Turn took a long breath and looked at Teenie. "Well, Your Majesty," he said, "I guess that settles it. I have no choice now but to bring Gris to trial for committing a crime in my own prison."
"I said it would be embarrassing," said Teenie. "Pratia Tayl was the fourth time he got married. He's not guilty of just bigamy: it's QUADRIGAMY!"
Madison, two hours later, was dancing with joy. His plan had worked perfectly. He had brought Gris to trial. He would make sure the trial was public. WHAT HEADLINES THAT WOULD MAKE! And Gris would accuse Heller. Madison had it made! He could see it now! The greatest manhunt in the whole universe! The Fleet, the Army, everybody! All after Heller! Headlines, headlines, HEADLINES! What ecstasy!
Oh, it was great to be a pure genius at PR!
Chapter 6
On a lonely mountaintop of Calabar and in the screaming wind, Jettero Heller stood, stung by the horizontally hurtling snow, half-blinded by the night, surrounded by thirty blastguns ready and eager to blow him apart.
It had taken him many days and several different applications of command location geometry to find the headquarters of Prince Mortiiy.
The voyage from Blito-P3 had only taken five days. It had been quite uneventful. The trouble had come when he had had to penetrate the Apparatus planetary net all tangled up with the beams and defenses of the rebels.
Using one identification or another, he had managed to slip through and the
Prince Caucalsia
lay up there now, twenty miles above them, invisible to all intents and purposes but, with her vital passengers, a total loss if anything happened to him.
He had come down here in a spacetrooper sled; he was chilled to the bone; his oxygen was almost gone and they were standing on what was a "hill" for Calabar but which was nevertheless thirty thousand feet. Gun flashes flickered on the distant horizon, a burning city was a patch of pink smudge.
There was a dimly seen figure about fifty feet away, hidden by a rock.
Through his face mask that also had an amplifier speaker, Heller called, "I will have to stand closer to you to give you my message." Thirty blastguns in the ring around him twitched.
The amplified voice came from behind the rock, "You're close enough. I can't believe that the great Jettero Heller, idol of the Fleet, wants to come over to the rebels. I am very well aware of what a combat engineer can do. Give me your message from there."
"I don't even know if I'm talking to Prince Mortiiy," Heller shouted above the shrieking wind.
"I don't even know that you're Jettero Heller!"
"I was introduced to you as a cadet aboard the warship
Illusive
twelve years ago," Heller shouted back. "You were wearing slippers because your feet had gotten burned."
"Anybody could know that. I've met thousands of cadets."
"I have to see your face up close to know it's really you!" shouted Heller. "The message, as I have told you, is for your ears alone."
"That's how you got this far. Men, bind his hands behind him and take any weapons. Only Jettero Heller would be crazy enough to try to penetrate these lines making all this noise."
Two pressure-suited soldiers detached themselves from the ring and moved forward very gingerly. They found no weapons and they tied his hands. They pushed him forward across the intervening gap. Heller found it hard walking: in addition to the wind, the 1.5 gravity of Calabar made him feel like he weighed a ton.
He came to a place behind a rock. A light hit him in the face. A hand pulled away his oxygen mask and then let it drop back. "It looks like Jettero Heller all right," said a gruff voice.
"Turn the light on your own face," said Heller.
"That's nerve. Don't you realize you're talking to a prince?"
"I'm talking to a rebel," said Heller, "and unless you listen to me, you'll go right on being one."
A barking laugh met this. "Gods-blast! What nerve!" Then the light was suddenly reversed and, through the faceplate, Heller saw and recognized the craggy features and thick black beard of Prince Mortiiy.
"All right," said Heller. "I give you my word I am not here to assassinate you or harm you in any way. Send these men back out of earshot. My message really is for your ears alone."
"Comets! I must be crazy. All right, you men, draw back but keep weapons trained on him."
"I have a complete repair crew, five ships coming here. They'll arrive in a few weeks. I think you need them."
"I don't need anything. The people of this planet support me: they're in a livid rage against the Apparatus. Furthermore, Apparatus units are pulling out and the Fleet and Army are inactive. I'm winning this war."
It was a shock to Heller. If the Apparatus was pulling out, they had only one destination: Earth.
Heller glanced around him. The others were now well out of earshot. He leaned closer. "You'll never win this war without something I've brought you."
Mortiiy barked an amused laugh. "There isn't anything in the universe that you could bring that's that important."
Heller said, "I've brought your father."
"WHAT?"
"His Majesty, Cling the Lofty," said Heller.
"Oh, well, if you really have him, bring him in, bring him in so that I can execute him! But, of course, I don't believe you for an instant, as you couldn't possibly have him."
"Your Highness, I do assure you that I have him. I also have the regalia and seal." And he quickly sketched the turn of fate which had brought the Emperor into his hands.
"Then actually he's running from Hisst!" said Mortiiy. "Will he cancel my rebel status?"
"He's unconscious."
"Then he can't declare me his successor."
"Not until he gains consciousness."
"Wait a minute," said Mortiiy. "This is dangerous! If Hisst knows he is here, he will launch all his troops against us! If it gets out that you kidnapped him, the
Fleet and Army will join in. This is EXPLOSIVE! They'd slaughter us!"
"Are there no advantages to having him?" said Heller.
"Does the G. C. know he is gone?"
"I came here past Voltar. There's no trace of it in the news. All they're talking about is a man named Gris that I thought was dead."
"Then Hisst is playing this quiet."
"I think so" said Heller.
Mortiiy leaned back against a rock. The wind screamed above them. Finally, he said, "It has just come to me with a shock what must have happened to my brothers and other successors to the throne. It might not have been my father. It could have been Hisst. Heller, do you suppose that man has the incredible effrontery to try to proclaim himself Emperor?"
"He is calling himself a dictator. Emperor is just one step away."
"Well, he can't do it," said Mortiiy. "The G. C. and the Lords of the land have to have positive evidence, a body and the regalia, in order to declare the throne vacant and appoint a successor. If you have the body and the regalia, he has to recover them. Gods-blast it, Heller, all you've brought me is a total assault! Whether he does or does not say you have the Emperor, he won't let anything stand in his way to recovering what you have. You are A LIVING BOMB!"
Heller would have spoken but Mortiiy silenced him with his hand. "I'm trying to think my way through this. Is there any chance my father will recover consciousness long enough to cancel the proclamation that made me a rebel and reinstate me as his successor?"
"That is in the lap of the Gods."
"Heller, if he did or didn't announce it, you're sitting on a shell that is about to explode. I know you have a good reputation but somebody could stir things up to try to find you and Hisst would have the body and regalia. With those, he could make himself Emperor.... Oh, I almost wish you'd gone someplace else!"
"Your Highness, how much assault can you withstand here on Calabar?"
"There's two billion population left. The rest have been slaughtered. Most of the cities are rubble. I frankly don't know."
"I got an estimate," said Heller, "while I was looking for you. This war has gone on for five years so you have not done too badly. I think you could stand off the full force of the Apparatus. The rivers are so wide, the mountains so high...."
"We couldn't stand off the Apparatus PLUS the Fleet and the Army."
"How about a gamble?" said Heller. "How about gambling that your father will regain consciousness in a few months and let's gamble again that he will cancel your rebel status and proclaim you successor. And then gamble that the Fleet and Army stay out of it. And then gamble that we put up such a ferocious defense that we cripple the Apparatus."
Mortiiy shook his head. "Please don't use that word 'gamble' again! You're painting the thinnest forlorn hope I ever heard of!"
"I'm not through, Your Highness. Then suppose we secretly tell Hisst that the Emperor is here."
"WHAT?"
"He will know then that we aren't going to make a public announcement."
"We can't anyway! I'm not in line for the throne anymore. It would not do us any good to announce it publicly. It would bring the whole pack down on us! No, the only thing that would save this is for my father to wake up and proclaim Hisst a traitor by Royal proclamation."
"One other possibility. I inform Hisst secretly that that is exactly what will happen if he brings the Fleet and Army into this war."
"He'd read it as a declaration that the Emperor was dead or incapacitated."
"But he wouldn't be sure."
"Royal Officer Heller, you are insane!"
"That may or may not be," said Heller, "but I can hazard that such a message would drive Hisst close to or over the border into insanity. You were an accomplished Fleet officer, Your Highness. You are aware of the principle that unstabilizing enemy command can often get him to do something rash, foolhardy or do nothing at all."
"Don't lecture me on strategy and tactics, Officer Heller. I was fighting battles when you weren't even weaned. There is another principle and that is, when an opportunity presents itself and one does nothing, one is almost certain to lose. Yours is the craziest battle plan I ever heard of. I will adopt it. Go bring my father. I give you my word I will not kill him. We will put him in a nice, safe cave. You can put the rest of the plan into effect. He may, as you say, recover. Until then, we live on hope. You are crazy, Officer Heller. I like you. MEN! UNTIE HIS HANDS!"