To The Stars

People were beginning to stir now, but the preparations to immobilize the tanks and engines still went ahead smoothly. At first the conspirators had moved guiltily, trying to avoid being noticed, until they had realized that no one paid them the slightest heed. They were just technicians going about their usual inexplicable tasks. Once they had realized this they carried the cables openly, calling out to one another with secret glee. It was all very exciting.

Not for Jan. He sat at the tank controls staring at the screens, watching the first of the men stroll up with a set of cables; his fist, unnoticed, pounded slowly on the panel beside him. Then another technician, then a third appeared. Ryzo sat in the open hatch above and passed down the cables to Jan as they arrived.

“That’s the lot,” he said. “What do you want us to do now?”

“You and the others can just stay in the crowd. I think that’s best. I don’t want a confrontation or charges of conspiracy at this early stage.”

“That’s all right for them. But you want someone to stand up there with you.”

“You don’t have to, Ryzo.”

“I know. I’m volunteering. What happens next?”

“Simple. We get the people together.”

As he said this he punched the siren button and held it down. The banshee wail screamed out, warbled up and down piercingly. It could not be ignored. People asleep were suddenly awake; those already at work stopped what they were doing and ran toward the sound. As the Central Way began to fill, Jan turned off the siren and unclipped the bullhorn from the bulkhead. Ryzo was waiting for him on top of the tank, leaning relaxedly against the fusion gun.

“There’s your crowd,” he said. “They’re all yours.

“Over here,” Jan said into the bullhorn microphone, his amplified words echoing back at him. “Over here, everyone. This is an important announcement.” He saw Taekeng appear in the door of his car and shake his fist. “Family Heads as well. Everyone. Over here.” Taekeng shook his fist again, then turned as a man hurried up and said something to him. He looked back and threw a single shocked glance at Jan, then followed the messenger toward the pressure dome.

“Over here, everyone, up close,” Jan said, then switched off the microphone. “Not one Family Head here,” he said to Ryzo. “They’re planning something. What do we do?”

“Nothing. That is nothing to start any trouble. Start issuing orders for unloading the corn for the return trip.”

“But they’ve changed that plan. They won’t let us go back.”

“All the better — they’ve told no one about this either. Let them start trouble — here in front of everyone.

“You’re right.” Jan turned the bullhorn back on and spoke into it. “Sorry to disturb your rest, but the party is over and we have to get back to work. We must return to get the rest of the corn.

There were groans from the audience at this, and a few people in the back started to shuffle away. Over their heads Jan saw Rein come out of the pressure dome and begin to push forward through the crowd. He was shouting something, his face red with the effort. There was a new gun in his holster. He could not be ignored.

“What do you want, Hem?” Jan said.

“You… come here… come. At once… meeting.”

Most of his words were lost in the crowd noises. He pushed forward angrily, waving his gun now to reinforce his authority. Jan had a sudden idea; he bent and spoke to Ryzo.

“I want that pig up here, talking. Let everyone hear what he has to say. Get the others to help you.”

“It’s dangerous…”

Jan laughed. “And this whole thing is madness. Get going.” Ryzo nodded and slipped away: Jan turned back to the bullhorn. “That is the Proctor Captain there. Let him through, please, he has something to say.”

Rein was helped, perhaps more than he wished. He tried to stop below and shout up at Jan, but was jostled forward and before he realized it he was standing next to Jan, still holding his gun. He tried to speak quietly to Jan — who pushed the bullhorn before his lips.

“You are to come with me. Get that thing away!” He slapped at it but Jan kept it close so that their voices boomed out over the crowd.

“Why should I come with you?”

“You know why!” Rein was spluttering with rage. Jan smiled back warmly — and winked at the angry man.

“But I don’t know,” he said innocently.

“You know. You have been tried and found guilty. Now come with me.” He brought up the gun; Jan tried to ignore the whiteness of the man’s tight knuckles.

“What trial are you talking about?” He deliberately turned his back on Rein and spoke to the crowd. “Does anyone here know anything about a trial?”

Some of them shook their heads no; all of them were listening attentively now. Jan swung about and pushed the bullhorn close to Rein’s mouth, watching the gun and ready to strike if the man attempted to pull the trigger, hoping he would condemn himself and the Family Heads before he did. Rein began to shout — but another voice drowned his out.

“That will be enough, Rein. Put your gun away and get down from that machine.”