Jannisaries by Jerry Pournelle

The low laughter came back. “Still naïve, my young friend. Well, this time you were correct. I have brought no more than you have heard. Do we now stand and shout in the darkness?”

“No. There’s a hill about a hundred yards to the left. It’s bare on top. We’ll go up there and sit. I’ve brought a dark lantern.”

“So have I. Well, let us get to it, then.”

They reached the top of the knoll together. Rick pulled back the dark shutter from his candle lan­tern. He could see Parsons grin as he sat down.

“I must say I am completely surprised,” Parsons said. “I suppose I should have suspected when I heard that hill tribesmen had won a great victory over the Roman legions, but I did not.” He took a flask from his belt. “Wine?”

“Later—”

Parsons’ laugh was a low, mocking sound. “Ah. Me first.” He tilted up the flask and drank. “Are you certain you will not join me?”

“I have my own,” Rick said. “I was about to offer you some. Share mine?”

“Perhaps it is better if we each keep our own,” Parsons said. “That way there is no suspicion.” His voice hardened and took on a more serious note. “Why have you asked me to meet you? Do you wish to surrender your army?”

“No. I came to tell you things you don’t know. First thing; have you listened to the local legends? About caves, and fire from the sky?”

“No.”

“I thought not. But you do know about the caves.”

“I know there are caves beneath many of the cas­tles,” Parsons said. “They are important in the local religions. My friend Sarakos was very unhappy that he could think of no way to enter those under one of his castles. He would like me to help him cope with the ammonia, but I have better things to do.”

“You’d better learn about the caves,” Rick said. “That’s one reason I wanted to talk to you. If I lose this battle tomorrow—”

Parsons laughed.

“I said if, and I meant if,” Rick said. “We’ll get to that later. But if you win, you’ll need to know about the caves. You’ll need them for fallout shelters.”

“I fear you make little sense—”

“Listen.” Rick told him of his deductions about the fate of the 1400 expedition, and Gwen’s suspi­cions. He was careful to be certain that Elliot heard the story as well as Parsons.

“Interesting. I do thank you,” Parsons said. He sounded very thoughtful.

“Of course that may not matter to you,” Rick said. “I understand you won’t be able to raise the surinomaz for the Shalnuksis.” He laughed. “You said I didn’t have enough experience to accomplish the mission, but I seem to have a bigger and better army than you do. And there’s no guerrilla war where I live. So who’s so damned efficient now?”

“That is unkind of you,” Parsons said.

“My apologies. But you see, that surinomaz crop is more important than you know. A lot more.”

“How do you know this?”

“Gwen. Remember her? The pilot’s girlfriend. She found out a lot about the people who brought us here. There’s a lot going on up there.” He pointed to the bright stars and their strange constellations.

“You have not told me why this surinomaz is im­portant.”

“I don’t know that I can trust you,” Rick said. “It involves a lot of people. Including some back on Earth. But assume I’m lying. It’s still important to you. Without that crop, you won’t be getting any juicy trade goods from the Shalnuksis. In fact, An­dré, just what are you accomplishing with your superior skills and experience?”

“Is there any point to this conversation?” Parsons demanded.

“Certainly. I hope to persuade you to join us,” Rick said.

Parsons laughed.

“Why not?” Rick asked. “Together we can grow those crops and trade with the Shalnuksis. We might even be able to capture a starship and get the hell off this planet! If we work together.

“Or we can go on fighting, and no matter who wins we both lose. You aren’t going to grow that crop. Sarakos can’t even feed his army! The people here will never stop fighting as long as he’s here. But you must know already that we’ve been welcomed as liberators. My alliance is with the legitimate king, and I’ve got most of the nobility as well. I can get crops planted and harvested. You can’t.

“Come over to our side, and you’ll have an hon­ored place. Wealth and influence, and you won’t have to fight all the time. We both win. Fight me, and we both lose.”

“So,” Parsons said. “You are persuasive, if overconfident. And yet I wonder. I have been thinking since I received your letter, what is it that you can do? Gunpowder? Muskets? I thinkyou have not had enough time. Hand grenades? Undoubtedly, and catapult bombs as well. Tell me, what range do you get with them?”

“Enough. And I have a lot of them,” Rick said. “André, for God’s sake, let’s end this damned war here and now. Can’t you see it’s better if we work together?”

“I see that you are the cause of my troubles,” Parsons said. “The guerrilla war—”

“That was spontaneous,” Rick said.

“I do not believe you. Without you the resistance will collapse, and in the morning we will destroy this barbarous army of yours.” He smiled thinly. “What makes you think I will share power with you and your hill clans?”

“You share with Sarakos—”

“For the moment. I need him. But that will not be forever.”

“André, you’ve gone crazy,” Rick said. “What do you want?”

“What I said I wanted before we left the Moon,” Parsons said. “To be a king. And I do not think you can offer that. Rick, you are a fool. Without you, your cause collapses. I will have your army as well as my own.” His hand darted under his jacket.

It seemed to Rick that everything moved in slow motion. Parsons’ hand reached his pistol, and Rick threw himself violently aside, his hand scrabbling for his own weapon.

Then there was a shout. “No! Damn it, no!” Elliot’s shout startled Parsons so that he fumbled his draw, but Rick was still too slow. He had the .45 in his hand, and the safety off, but before he could swing it around to point at Parsons, André’s own weapon was lining up with Rick’s head—

There were three shots very close up. Rick’s ears rang with the muzzle blast. He heard shouting, but it was incomprehensible through the ringing in his ears. Gradually he realized that he was still alive, and that he felt no shock or pain.

André Parsons fell heavily. His face held a look of total surprise. “My honorable young friend—” he gasped. Whatever else he was going to say never got out.

“Take it easy,” Sergeant Elliot was saying in the Tran dialect. “We surrender.” Elliot held his empty hands high, and after a moment Bisso did the same.

“What happened?” Rick asked. “Who—”

“I tried to stop him myself,” Elliot said. “I already made one mistake about you, Captain. I didn’t want to let Colonel Parsons make another. But he was too fast. I didn’t even draw. It was your girlfriend there.” He pointed to Tylara. She sat motionless, still hold­ing Mason’s pistol in both hands in the approved military grip. One of the baggy sleeves of her cloak was charred, and wisps of smoke rose from where she had shot through it.

Mason came up the hill moments later. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yes—” Rick’s ears still rang. Tylara had been no more than a foot behind him when she fired. His head was clearing, but it seemed to be a long time doing it. Tylara seemed dazed as well. And now here was Mason. “Where did you come from?” Rick de­manded.

“Out there,” Mason said. “I did a little scouting in case Parsons brought a sniper. Nobody around just at the moment, but after those shots there will be. We’d better get going. How you doing, Sarge?”

“Just what is going on?” Rick asked.

“Hell, Cap’n, I wasn’t going to let you come out here by yourself,” Mason said. “Figured I’d be more use out where they couldn’t see me. Only you had to pick a place I couldn’t get close enough to! Good thing Tylara thought of borrowing my pistol. She’s been taking lessons dry-firing that thing for weeks now. Cap’n, we really had better get going.”

“All right.” He got up and felt himself swaying until Elliot steadied him with a hand on his shoul­der. “Tylara—”

She got up slowly. She kept the pistol in her hand, but she was careful not to point it at anyone. “I had not known,” she said softly. “I did not intend to— shoot—but once.”

“They’ll do that,” Mason said. “Come on, I hear people comin’ from both directions. You move out—I’ll hang back and discourage visitors.” He pat­ted the H&K battle rifle affectionately.

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