“Don’t tempt me, little man. But that would be a waste. I shall put your death to better use. You and your associate will be tried and found guilty of a number of charges. Attacking a superior officer, impersonating an officer, threatening military security. After which you will both be shot. In oublic.”

“And what will that accomplish?”

“It will c6nvincethe stubborn people of this planet that we do what we say. They are a bloodless, spineless lot that let us walk in and take their planet away from them. Now they whine that they wish to have it back. They refuse to do any work until we leave. They have all walked away from their jobs. The city will soon be paralyzed. Your death will change that.”

“I don’t see how.”

“I do. They will then know that I mean what I say. We will take hostages and shoot ~hem if they do not cooperate.” I was on my feet, anger burning me. “You are a mean and worthless bastard, Zennor. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Well you didn’t,” he said. Then fired as I jumped at him.

The bullet must have missed but the explosion deafened me. I fell and he kicked me again. Then the room was full of MPs all trying to stomp on me at once.

“Enough!” Zennor shouted and boots fell away. I was on all fours, looking up at him through a haze of blood. ’ “Clean him up, fresh uniform, same for the other one. Trial in two hours.”

I must have been punchy from the kicking because I was only vaguely aware of being worked on, of Morton reappearing, of time oozing by. I finally came back almost to reality when I found him pulling off my shirt.

“Let go. I can do it myself.” I biinked at the fresh uniform on the chair, at Morton uniformed and crisp and a private once again. My new-old rank as well I saw. I dropped the bloody shirt on the floor, then pulled off my boots so I could take off the trousers as well. Boots. Boots? Boots!

I tried not to smirk or let on in case the place was bugged.

“You know about the trial?” Morton nodded glumly. “How much more time do we have?”

“About an hour.” As I talked I slid my fingers into my right boot and

TUB CTAIMI KfiC CTeBI BAT fiRTC nDBBTBn flipped open the tiny compartment concealed in the heel. An hour. We would be long gone by that time! I tried not to let my newfound glee show on my face. Slip out the lockpick, slip open the door, slip out into the hall, and vanish into military anonymity.

Except the lockpick was no longer there…

“Zennor gave me a funny message for you,” Morton said. “He told me to wait until you took off your shoes then I was to tell you that you were not going to get out that way. I don’t know what it means—but he said you would know.”

“I know, I know,” I said wearily, and finished changing. It takes a crook to catch a crook, and that crook Zennor obviously knew all about lockpicks.

They came for us an hour later. I’ll say this much, they made a great military show of it with much crashing of polished weapons, shouting of orders, thuddingofbootheels. Neither Morton nor I wished to play along with this militaristic tomfoolery but had little choice since we were chained and dragged. Down the hall, down the stairs and into the street beyond. With more crashing and shouting we were hauled up onto a newly constructed platform that was apparently going to be the venue of the show trial. Complete with guards, judges, barred cell, buglers—and a large crowd of watching civilians below. Obviously brought there by force since they were still ringed by armed soldiers. A half dozen of them were also seated on the platform as well. All grayheaded or bald and among them I recognized Stiroer from the generating plant. As soon as he saw me being locked in the cage he stood and walked over.

“What are they doing to you, captain? We understand none of this…”

“You are talking Esperanto!” I gaped.

“Yes. One of our leading linguists found this interesting language in his library. A number of us learned it last night since there have been communication problems with”

“Seat that man at once!” Zennor ordered from the bench where he was, of course, the head judge. Military justice.

“I can’t believe that this is happening!” Stirner said as he was hurried back to his chair.

Though he and his companions tried to protest they were silenced by the blare of bugles and the dreary evidence of the mock trial. I pretended to fall asleep but was kicked awake. Morton stared vacantly into space. I really did doze off during the summing up, I still did not feel that good, and only paid any attention when we were both dragged to our feet. Zennor was speaking.

“. . . evidence given against you. It is therefore the judgment of this court that you be taken from here to a place of detention and there be held until oh-eight hundred hours tomorrow from whence you will be taken to a place of execution where you will be shot. Take them away.”

“Some justice!” I shouted. “I haven’t been allowed to say a word during this farce of a trial. I wish to make a statement now.”

“Silence the prisoner.”

A hairy hand was pressed over my mouth, then replaced by a cloth gag. Morton was treated the same way although he seemed barely conscious of what was happening. Zennor waved over the translator with the microphone.

“Tell them to listen to a very important announcement,” he said. The amplified translation boomed over the crowd, which listened in silence.

“I have brought you people here since there has been wilUul disobedience on the part of too many of you. This will change. You~ave watched Nevenkebia justice taking place. These two prisoners have been found guilty of a number of criminal charges. The penalty for being found guilty of these charges is death. They will die at eight tomorrow morning. Do you understand this?” A murmur went through the listening crowd and Stirner stood up. The guards reached for him but Zennor stopped them.

“I am sure I speak for all here,” Stirner said, “when I ask for some explanation. This is all very confusing. And the most confusing part of all is how do these men know about their deaths tomorrow? They do not look ill. Nor do we understand your knowledge of the precise hour of their demise. “

Zennor looked at him with disbelief—then lost his temper.

“Are you people that stupid? Was this backward planet settled by hereditary morons? These two men are going to die tomorrow because we are going to shoot them with guns. This is a gun!” he screamed, pulling his pistol and firing it into the wooden stand before him. “It fires bullets and they make holes in people and tomorrow guns will kill these two criminals! You people aren’t vegetarians. You butcher animals for food. Tomorrow we butcher these two men in the same way. Now is that clear enough for you?” Stirner, white-faced, dropped back into his chair. Zennor grabbed the microphone and his amplified voice ‘rolled over everyone.

“They will die and you will watch them die! Then you will understand and you will do as we order and do what we tell you to do. If you disobey you will be as guilty as these two men and you will be shot like these two men. We will shoot you and kill you and keep on shooting and killing you until the survivors understand us and obey us and do exactly as they are told…”

His words trickled down and died as he lost his audience. The men on the platform stood up, turned their backs on him and walked away. As did everyone else in the street. They did not push or use violence. When the soldiers grabbed them they simply struggled to get free without striking out. Meanwhile the others who were not held pushed by and walked away. The street was a struggling shambles. Zennor must have realized this, seen the impossibility of accomplishing anything without violence at the moment. He was vicious and deadly—but not stupid.

“You may all leave now,” he announced, “Let them go. You will all leave and remember what I have said and tomorrow morning you will come back here and watch these prisoners die. After that your new orders will be issued. And you will obey them.”