"He already has."
Henry Dread nodded. "I have to give him credit. I admire loyalty in a being—even a Geek. Maybe old iron pants is OK. But don't confuse the issue. A good, solid hate is a powerful weapon. Don't go putting any chinks in it."
"Iron Robert is a good being," Roan said. "He's better than me—and better than you, too . . ." Roan stopped talking and swallowed. "I feel kind of sick," he said.
Henry laughed. "Go sleep it off, kid. You'll be OK. Take the stateroom down the hall from mine here. A Terry crew member doesn't have to sleep with Gooks any more."
"I've got some rags in the corridor outside Iron Robert's cell. I'll sleep there."
"No, you won't, kid. I can't have a Terry losing face with Gooks—for the sake of a Geek."
Roan went to the door, walking unsteadily. "You've got a gun," he said.
"You can kill me if you want to. But I'm going to stay with Iron Robert—until you let him out."
"That animated iron mine stays where he is!"
"Then I sleep in the corridor."
"Make your choice, boy," Henry Dread's voice was hard. "Learn to take orders, and you live a soft life. Act stubborn, and it'll be rags and scraps for you."
"I don't mind the rags. Iron Robert and I talk."
"I'm asking you, kid. Move in next door. Forget the Geek."
"Your whiskey's no good. I haven't forgotten anything."
"What's the matter with you, you young squirt? Haven't I tried to treat you right? I could send you below decks in lead underwear right now to swab out a hot chamber!"
"Why don't you?"
"Get out!" Henry Dread grated. "You had a big credit with me, kid—because you looked like a Man. Until you learn to act like one, keep out of my way!" Outside in the corridor, Roan leaned against the wall, waiting for the dizziness to go away. Once he thought he heard a sound—as though someone had started to turn the door latch—but the door stayed shut. After a while he made his way down to Iron Robert's cell and went to sleep.
Iron Robert shook the bars. "You big fool, Roan, go on raid with riff-raff, maybe get killed. What for? You stay safe on ship—"
"I'm tired of being aboard ship, Iron Robert. This is the first time Henry Dread has said I could go along. I'll be all right—"
"What kind gun Henry Dread give you, Roan?"
"I won't need a gun. I won't be in the fighting."
"Henry Dread still 'fraid give you gun, eh? He big fool too, let you go in combat with no gun. You small, weak being, Roan—not like Iron Robert. You stay on ship like always!"
"There's a city on this world—Aldo Cerise—that was built by Terrans, over ten thousand years ago. Nobody lives there now but savages, so there won't be much of a fight—and I want to see the city—"
"Extravaganzoo play on Aldo Cerise, once, long time 'go. Plenty natives, plenty tough. Have spears, bows, few guns too. And not fools." Roan leaned against the bars. "I can't just stay on the ship. I have to get out and see things, and listen and learn, and maybe some day—"
"Maybe some day you learn stay out of trouble—"
A wall annunciator hummed and spoke: "Attention all hands. This is Captain Dread. All right, you swabs, now's your chance to earn some prize money!
We're entering our parking orbit in five minutes. Crews stand by to load assault craft in nine minutes from now. Blast off in forty-two minutes . . ." Roan and Iron Robert listened as Henry Dread read the order of battle, feeling the deck move underfoot as the vessel adjusted its velocity to take up its orbit four hundred miles above the planet.
"I've got to go now," Roan said. "I'm in boat number one, the command boat."
"Anyway Henry Dread keep you by him," Iron Robert rumbled. "Good. You stay close, keep head down when shooting start. Henry Dread not let you get hurt, maybe."
"He wants me on his boat so he can keep an eye on me. He thinks I'll try to run away, but I won't—not until you can go, too."
Boots clanged at the far end of the corridor. Henry Dread, tall in close-fitting leather fighting garb, swaggered up. He wore an ornate pistol at each lean hip and carried a power rifle in his hands.
"I figured I'd find you here," he grated. "Didn't you hear my orders?"
"I heard," Roan said. "I was just saying good-by."
"Yeah. Very touching. Now if you can tear yourself away, we've got an action to fight. You stay close to me. Watch what I do and follow suit. I don't expect much static from the natives, but you never know—"
"Roan should have gun, too," Iron Robert rumbled.
"Never mind that, Iron Man. I'm running this operation."
"You nervous as caged dire-beast, Man. If everything so easy, what you afraid of?"
Henry narrowed his eyes at the giant.
"All right, I'm edgy; who wouldn't be? I'm hitting what used to be the capital of one of the greatest kingdoms in the Empire—and me with a seven-thousand-year-old hulk and a crew of half-breed space-scrapings. Who wouldn't be a little nervous?"
"Give Roan gun; or does lad make you nervous too?"
"Never mind, Iron Robert," Roan said. "I'm not asking him for anything." Henry Dread's jaw muscles worked. He jerked the power rifle. "Come on, boy. Get down to the boat deck before I change my mind and give you a job swabbing the tube linings!"
"You bring Roan back safe, Henry Dread," Iron Robert called. "Or better not come back at all."
"If I don't, you'll have a long wait," the pirate growled. In the cramped command compartment of the assault boat, Henry Dread barked into the panel mike: "Now hear this, you space scum! We're dropping in fast, slick and silent! I'm giving you a forty-second countdown after contact, then out you go. I want all four Bolos to hit the ramp at the same time, and I want to see those treads smoke getting into position!
Gunnery crews, sight in on targets and hold your fire for my command! Heli crews . . ." The pirate captain gave his orders as the boats dropped toward the gray world swelling on the forward repeater screen. The deck plates rumbled as the retro-rockets fired long bursts, correcting velocity. Atmosphere shrieked around the boat now. Roan saw the curve of the world swing up to become a horizon; a drab jungle continent swept under them, then an expanse of sparkling sea, and a white-surfed shoreline. There was a moment of vertigo as the vessel canted, coming in low over green hills; it righted sluggishly, and now the towers of a fantastic city came into view, sparkling beyond the distant forest-clad hills.
"Remind me to shoot that gyro maintenance chief," Henry growled. Roan watched as treetops whipped past beneath the hurtling ship. Then it was past the wooded slopes, and the city was close, looming up, up, until the highest spires were hazy in the airy distances overhead. The ship braked, slowed, settled in heavily. A ponderous jar ran through the vessel. The torrent of sound washed away to utter silence. From below, a turbine started up, ran sputteringly, smoothed out. Henry looked at the panel chronometer.
"If one of those slobs jumps the gun . . ."
A light blinked to life on the panel.
"Ramp doors open," Henry murmured. "Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty!" He whirled on Roan.
"Here we go, kid! With a little luck we'll be drinking old Terry wine out of Terry crystal before the star goes behind those hills." Roan stood with Henry Dread at the foot of the ramp, looking out across a pitted and crumbling expanse of ancient pavement. Far across the field, four massive tracked vehicles aimed black gun muzzles at the silent administrative sheds. Nothing moved.
"Empty emplacements," Henry said. "Missile racks corroded out. It's a walkover . . ."
"Iron Robert said the 'zoo played here once," Roan said. "He said the natives have guns and bows, and know how to use them."
"The carny was here, eh? Who'd it play to, the rock lizards?"
"People," Roan said. "And they wouldn't have to be very smart to be smart enough to stay out of sight when they see a shipload of scavengers coming."
"Corsairs," Henry barked. "We don't scavenge, boy! We fight for what we take. Nothing's free in this universe!" He thumbed his command mike angrily.
"Czack! Wheel that tin can of yours over here!" He turned to Roan. "We'll go take a look at the city." He waved his rifle toward the towers beyond the port. "This was one of the last Terry capitals, five thousand years ago. Men built the place, boy—our kind of Man, back when we owned half the Galaxy. Come along, and I'll show you what kind of people we came from." There was a high golden gate before the city and at the top, worked in filigree, was the Terran Imperial symbol, a bird with a branch in its mouth, and a TER. IMP. above it.
"I've seen it a million times, in my books back on Tambool," Roan said.
"That bird and the TER. IMP. above it. Why a bird, anyhow?"
"Peace," Henry Dread said. "Czack!" he barked into his command mike.
"Bring that pile of tin up here and put it in High." Then he turned back to Roan. "TER. IMP. means Terra ran the show. And any bird that didn't keep the peace got his guts ripped out. That's how Men operate, see?" Peace, Roan thought, turning it in his mind, trying to smooth off the sandpapery edge Henry Dread gave to the word, watching the massive combat unit rumbling up beside him.
"Take it slow. Put it in Maximum now," Henry Dread said to Czack. "That fence is made of Terralloy and nothing'll tear it down but a Terry Bolo."
"But it's stood like this for five thousand years and nobody can put up another one," Roan said, wanting the TER. IMP. and the bird to stay there another five thousand years. "Why tear it down? Couldn't you just blast the lock?"
"Maybe. But this impresses the Geeks more, if they're watching. OK. Take it, Czack."
The gate screamed like a torn female, bent slowly, and finally went over with a horrible clang, and the Bolo, a crease along its top turret now, went on through and Czack traversed his guns, looking for natives. The quick silence from the fallen gate and the dead city was eerie. Czack appeared at the upper hatch and swore at the gate and the Bolo and Aldo Cerise in general. He spotted the dent in the Bolo turret and swore worse.
"Maybe we'll find more Bolos in the city," Henry Dread said. "Never seen an Imperial city without 'em and this was a great one. Get you a nice, new Bolo and some nice, new guns. Now get back in the tin can and keep us covered while we do some ground reconnoiter. Shoot anybody you see." Henry Dread tucked the mike under his tunic. His heavy boots rang on the mosaic of the walkway they took beside the road, and he gestured with his gun as they went along.
"Those buildings," he said. "Ever see anything that high for beings that don't have wings?"
The Terran buildings climbed into the sunlight, incredibly straight and solid. From here it all looked perfect. But at Roan's feet the tiles of the intricate mosaic were broken and missing in spots, and Henry Dread kicked at the loose ones as he walked along.
Roan paused to watch a fountain throwing rainbows into the air, spinning shifting patterns of water and light.
"They built things in those days," Henry Dread said. "That fountain's been running five thousand years. More, probably. Anything mechanical breaks in this city, fixes itself."
Roan was looking at the house beyond the fountain, with the TER. IMP. symbol on the door, and he gaped up at row on row of floors, windowed and balconied.
"It looks as though that door might open," Roan said. "People might walk out. My people." He paused, wondering how he would feel if this were home. "But it's all so perfect. So wonderful. If they could build like this, how could anyone beat them?"
"The Lost War," Henry Dread said, coming up to the fountain and drinking from a side jet. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "They call it the Lost War but we didn't lose it. Terra never lost a war. A stalemate, maybe—we didn't win it, either. Anybody can see that. But we broke the power of the Niss. The Niss don't rule the universe. There's supposed to be the Niss blockade of Terra, and they say there's still a few Niss cruisers operating at the far side of the Galaxy. But that's probably just superstition. I've never run into a Niss. And never met anybody that did—Man, Gook, or Geek." Henry Dread got out his microphone. The men had come in through the ruined gate and were scrambling over the Bolo, perching on its armored flanks and hanging off the sides.
"Fan out in skirmish order," he barked. "Shoot anything that moves." Roan followed Henry Dread. "Empty," Roan said. "I don't see anything that looks like natives might be living here. I wonder why not? With all this . . ."
"Superstition. They're afraid of it." Henry Dread's eyes were darting in all directions. "But that doesn't mean there might not be a few natives inside the fence. And they may be right to be afraid of the city. Look over there." There was a deep hole, blackened at the edges.
"Booby-trapped," Henry Dread said. "Don't know how many might be around the city, or where. So watch out."
They came to a high wall, set with clay tiles, and between the tiles grew tiny, exquisite flowers.
"Park," said Henry Dread. "Full-blown memento of Terran luxury. Maybe have time for it later."
"Tank here!" one of the men called from behind a nearby building. "Bolo Mark IX, factory fresh—"
"Don't touch her, you slat-headed ape!" Czack's voice crackled from his Bolo. "I don't want nobody's filthy hands on her until I see her." Henry Dread laughed. "It's not a woman, you rack-skull. And it's my freaking tank and I'll see it first."
"Look, I'm going into that park," Roan said. "Call me when you want me." Henry Dread stopped, looked back at Roan, frowning.
"I won't desert," Roan said. "Not as long as you've got Iron Robert back there in the hold."
"Maybe," Henry Dread said. "Maybe if you go in that park you'll find out the difference between Geeks and Men. Maybe you'll see what I'm after."
"Boss!" Czack called. "Take a gander at this. Full fuel tanks and magazines and . . ."
"Don't touch anything!" Henry Dread called. "These damned Gooks have scrambled eggs for brains," he added.
"OK," Roan said, starting to climb up a gnarled old tree that looked over the garden wall. "Fire three shots when you want me to come out."