“We can’t be seen not to react,” he said finally. “Have all vehicles either locked in the depot overnight, or parked on the near side of the pad area, under lights and guarded.” Kelm nodded, but his expression said that he wasn’t satisfied with it either. With all the activity going on around the base, it would be impossible to guarantee policing against one slipping away even in daylight. What was needed was an effective deterrent.
“When we decided to let them go, we said that if they got into trouble, it would act as a warning to the rest,” Zeigler went on. “It would be very convenient if something like that were to happen.”
“An accident? . . . I don’t really see a ready way of arranging one,” Kelm answered. “And an overt attack on it could hardly be disguised.”
Zeigler leaned back, rubbing his chin. “An attack by us,” he agreed.
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Have you forgotten those natives out there? Violent, savagely disposed. Wouldn’t a handful of people camped out in that wilderness with all those pickings be an obvious target? Think of the effect it would have here, when we go out to intervene but are too late, and bring back the bodies. What better way could there be to convince everyone else at Serengeti to stay put? You get my point now, Kelm?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jorff stood on the edge of the clear area a few hundred yards up from the huts and watched as Lanserm adjusted the grip of the trainee dropped on one knee in a firing position. The Kronian shifted the rifle stock a fraction to fit more snugly against the native’s shoulder, and stepped back, at the same time nodding to Enka with the missing teeth.
“Five shots, slow and aimed,” Enka ordered. Rakki had appointed Enka to oversee the proceedings, and was standing watching, a few yards back, his arms folded. Jorff’s orders were to keep Rakki sweet. Behind Enka, the other recruits in the squad waited for their next turn. Yesterday they had been through a starter on handguns and knew the basics. Today was the single-shot primer on rifles. Automatic fire would come later.
The one who was firing sent off five careful rounds at measured intervals. Two of the five ration tins placed on a flat rock fifty feet away flew back, while one jumped a few inches from a grazing hit. Rakki glanced at Jorff for a verdict. Jorff gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Good,” Rakki pronounced.
“Next, Bakka,” Enka said. The one who had fired stood up, set the safety on his weapon as he had been shown, and returned to the line. Custom did not permit a change of expression, but there was pride in his eyes. Enka signaled, and a young girl ran in from the side to reposition the targets.
“Carry on, Lanserm,” Jorff directed.
“Sir.”
Gralth, the other trooper with the party from Serengeti, who had been standing a short distance back, moved forward to assist. Jorff turned and began walking back down the slope to the settlement. The children and several others who had been watching from behind a line ceremoniously drawn across the ground to mark off the shooting range drew back, giving him plenty of room to pass. A lot of the “god” image was still there. Jorff strode by them commandingly. It felt good to breathe wind-driven air again, and feel his boots crunching into the soil of a living world. They might not rebuild it in his lifetime. But he would see the beginnings.
He was of Swiss and Malay parentage in Java, one of the major Indonesian islands, and had come to Kronia at age eighteen. One of his brothers and a cousin had been chemists, and the family business had revolved around complicated dealings in variously priced substances and preparations, not all of which were approved by the lawmakers of the state. Besides illegal trafficking of the kind that thrives on prohibition universally, there was also a vigorous local trade in cheap and effective but banned medicinal drugs. Having fallen out of favor with both the underworld and the law enforcement agencies, Jorff’s father decided that a change of scene would be beneficial for the health and probable longevity of self and immediate family, and organized a hasty move to the Central Americas. However, his work habits and penchant for falling foul of local politics soon got him into trouble again, and a sudden revelation to find new horizons and spiritual rebirth via a shuttle from Guatemala to a Kronia-bound orbiting transporter quickly followed.