Attack of the Bounty Hunters Ch. 02-03

[This is not a "sex story". It is a story about a society whose people have superfast reflexes... and guns.]

Chapter 2: Basking in the Hospitality of the Silencer

Croft, Tane, and the Clapper were in the cargo hold of a freighter bound for Grafton. That was the first available ship heading there from August, but Croft didn't mind. It gave him space and opportunity to practice.

Croft drew his blaster lightning fast, appraising his opponent in the mirror who drew just as fast as he did. Studying his stance for a moment, he holstered his blaster and drew it again.

"You won't need to do that," said Tane. "We're going to pass for Graftonites. Nobody's going to challenge us."

Croft gave a short laugh. "Graftonites are always challenging each other."

"They only challenge people who they think are weak," said Tane. "They don't challenge each other unless it's over something really important. Since we will be posing as native Graftonites, we shouldn't have any trouble."

"No trouble," Croft repeated. He drew his blaster again. This time, he thought he was slightly faster. Good. He turned away from the mirror and set his blaster to the test setting. Tensing again, he drew his blaster and fired immediately, hitting a crate some twenty feet away. Not bad, but not good; he had been aiming for the crate above the one he had actually hit.

"No matter how much you practice, you'll never be as fast as the natives," said Tane.

Croft hadn't told her about the accelerant that Levi had given him. It was still experimental, Levi had said. Only to be used as a last resort. Croft wasn't enthusiastic about injecting a barely tested drug into his system, but if he were faced with a Graftonite killer, he would have no choice.

"A more productive use of the time would be spent reviewing the data on Grafton," said Tane. "We will be landing on Regular in just a few hours."

"Regular?" Croft said idly, continuing to practice quick drawing, firing, and reholstering his weapon.

"Their capital, and, it appears, their only city," said Tane. "If you can call a locale of only 50,000 people a city."

"Only 50,000 people? And that's their only city?" said Croft. "What about the other almost eight million Graftonites?"

"They're all spread out, all over the countryside," said Tane. "You see, it's things like this you should be learning, and not playing with your weapon. I can help."

"You want to help?" said Croft.

"If I can," said Tane.

"Can you move right over there?" Croft asked, indicating the crates he had been targeting. "I need to practice on a human shape."

********

Croft spent some of the trip practicing his draw, but most of the time he was deep in thought. How to counter an enemy who was always faster than him? Somehow, he would have to outwit them.

When the freighter touched down on Regular, Tane said, "I hope you spent at least some time figuring out a course of action. The Chief's initial orders are to find out more about this Quandry and what his intentions are, but we have been given some latitude in how we approach this. I suggest we begin by reviewing the local media database-"

"Fine, you do that," said Croft. "But I didn't come all the way here to review their local media database."

"Then what do you plan?"

"First we meet our contact," said Croft. After substantial effort Column had ultimately succeeded in hiring a local Graftonite to accompany them for a premium. Given the anti off-worlder sentiment, it was lucky they had found anyone at all. His name was Carper Burundi, and that was all Croft knew about him.

"And then?"

"We'll drop by a friend's place," said Croft.

"May I remind you that we're here on official business," said Tane.

"I think you just did," said Croft.

Croft and Tane stepped out onto the tarmac at the Regular Spaceport. Although it was the largest spaceport on the planet, it didn't have connecting tubes to the arrival terminal as most spaceports did. Most of the traffic that came through Regular was cargo freight; if Graftonites needed to travel off-planet, they used their own spacefighters or small transports.

A mile away, Croft appeared in the crosshairs of a sniper scope.

"I have him," said the slightly accented voice. "They did send Croft, as we predicted. Shall I kill him?" the sniper asked.

"Fool!" said his superior, a woman with light brown straight hair whose eyes flashed as she grabbed the sniper rifle away from him.

The sniper and the other members of the observation team looked up at her with surprise.

"Don't you think it would be the least bit suspicious to kill Croft in so public a place?" said the woman.

"Yes Major, but-"

"And don't you think that at this range a kill would be far from certain? You might only wound him, and put him on alert."

"Yes Major, but-"

"And wouldn't it be wiser to first find out what he's doing here, and what his mission is, before liquidating him?"

"Yes Major," said the sniper. "But you are only observing our mission and so I thought-"

"What you most obviously did not do was think," said Major Nancy Kalikov of the Slurian Special Tasks Bureau. "Follow him, learn what he's doing and what he knows. Once we find out what he's up to, then, and only then, will we eliminate him."

********

Croft, Tane, and the Clapper entered the arrival terminal. The Clapper looked wide-eyed like he was on a vacation. Well, perhaps he was; gamma operatives normally didn't get to travel much. Tane was also taking it all in, no doubt already mentally adding details to the cultural database. Croft, on the other hand, kept his eyes alert, looking for hostiles. In other words, he acted normally.

To Croft's surprise, there was no customs inspection in the arrival terminal. Tane had told him that their luggage wouldn't be inspected, but he hadn't believed it.

"Customs inspections only occur when there are governmental regulations and tariffs regarding imports and exports," said Tane. "There are no such rules here. This isn't even a public spaceport. It's privately owned."

But there was one line they had to stand in before they left the spaceport. When they got to the head of the line, a bored looking Graftonite said, "200 credits."

"200 credits? For what?" said Croft.

The Graftonite looked at him oddly. "Import tax."

"But how can there be an import tax if there's no government?" Croft asked, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be playing the part of a native Graftonite and if he were a native he would have known about such things.

The Graftonite, who, like all Graftonites was armed, sighed. "This spaceport is a private facility. Nothing here runs for free. "

"But 200 credits, simply for the ability to walk out of here?"

"If you're poor, don't come to Grafton," said the Graftonite. His hand casually went down to the area around his holstered weapon. "Are you saying that you're challenging the entry fee?"

The Clapper's eyes grew round.

"No," said Croft quickly, paying for him and Tane and the Clapper.

"Welcome to Grafton," said the Graftonite coldly.

As they stepped out of the terminal, Croft found himself blinking in the bright morning sunlight. Everyone around them was wearing blue denim pants and jackets, almost as if it were a national uniform. Of course, given the ruggedly individualistic nature of the Graftonites, there could never be any such thing as a national uniform.

Croft, Tane, and the Clapper were clad in blue denim too, all part of the Chief's plan to have them pass for Graftonites.

"Where's our contact?" said Croft, looking around. There were a few Graftonites standing around outside the terminal, but none made eye contact with them. Croft keyed up a picture of Carper Burundi on his personal data unit, then looked around. He didn't see anyone who looked like Burundi in the area.

"I told him when we were arriving," said Tane.

"Did you also tell him to meet us here?" said Croft.

"I think so," said Tane. After a pause, as she tried to reconcile her memory with what she wanted to believe, she said "I presumed that was self-evident."

The Clapper clapped twice.

Croft sighed and rolled up his left sleeve to reveal his personal comm unit, while simultaneously pulling up the comm code for Carper Burundi.

In seconds he was speaking to their contact.

"My name is Clifford Croft," said Croft.

"How alliterative," said the stone cold voice on the other end.

"We're here, at the spaceport in Regular," Croft said.

"Good to know," said Burundi.

"Why aren't you here?" Croft asked.

"I haven't received the first installment of my payment," said the even voice.

"Our arrangement was to pay you on a weekly basis, at the end of the week," said Tane, speaking into Croft's comm.

"I'm altering our arrangement," said Burundi. "I want to be paid a week in advance, effective immediately."

Croft put his hand over the comm unit. "Are you sure you couldn't find anyone else?"

Tane shook her head. "No one wants to work for off-worlders right now."

Croft took his hand off the comm unit. "Just a moment."

He took another device out of his pocket with a small keyboard, and started typing away. Then, a minute later, he returned to the wrist comm. "Done."

"Just a moment," said the voice. Then, "Confirmed. What are your instructions?"

"How long would it take you to get to the Regular spaceport?"

"About four hours."

Croft sighed. "Forget it. Just meet us at the following address," he said, providing him with a specific location. After signing off, he glared at Tane.

"What?" said Tane.

"We'd better go rent a groundcar," said Croft.

The groundcar, like everything else on Grafton, was expensive. When Croft tried to negotiate the price, the owner said, "Perhaps you'd prefer going to my competition."

"Where is your competition?"

"I have none," said the proprietor. "Only off-worlders need to rent groundcars, and we don't get many of those."

"But 500 credits a day is outrageous," said Croft.

"If you're poor, don't come to Grafton." That seemed to be the national slogan.

Croft sighed, paying. It wasn't his money, after all, but he disliked being gouged under any circumstances. He was sure that the Chief would micromanage his expense reports.

They drove for several hours in silence, only occasionally punctuated by brief outbursts of clapping.

"Does he always do that?" Tane said irritably after one outburst.

"Yes. I've even seen him do it in his sleep," said Croft.

Grafton II was beautiful. And mostly empty. It was miles and miles of forest and fields and hills and mountains, crisscrossed by roads and the occasional homestead. From time to time Croft stopped at crossroads to study the onboard map (which had cost 20 credits extra per day).

Then, finally, he turned off a paved road onto a dirt road. The ride started to get bumpy.

"Roads are one of the few services handled by the local governments," said Tane.

"Obviously they haven't quite finished the job," said Croft, as the groundcar skimmed over a bump.

"Their financial resources are quite limited, as I mentioned earlier," said Tane. "As I told you, their only source of revenue is a real estate tax on homes with-"

"Inferior gunmen, I know," said Croft.

After several minutes, they arrived small side road which a big sign that simply read, "Keep out." And then, in much smaller letters underneath, it also read, "Bodies of intruders will only be returned at next of kin's expense, plus a ten percent administrative fee."

"I think we're here," said Croft, carefully checking the map again.

"Your friend lives here?" said Tane.

"Friend is a strong word," said Croft. "I'm not sure Graftonites have friends. Call him an acquaintance." He drove the groundcar past the sign.

"Are you sure he won't consider us intruders?" Tane asked anxiously.

"Oh, he just puts up that sign to scare people," said Croft. "The Silencer is a pussycat."

"His name is the Silencer?" said Tane. "He sounds like a professional gunman."

"I hear he spent millions on focus groups to find the right name to intimidate people," said Croft. "I can see it's paid off handsomely." He looked at her face. She actually believed him.

A moment later they came upon an enormous ranch house surrounded by evergreen trees. Rows of colorful flowers were planted in front and exotic butterflies hopped from one petal to another.

A Graftonite stood on the porch.

Croft, Tane, and the Clapper cautiously got out of the groundcar.

Instantly the Graftonite's blaster was in his hand, though Croft hadn't seen him draw it.

"I guess you can't read," he said simply.

"Wait!" said Croft, raising his hands slowly in the universal surrender gesture. "I'm here to see the Silencer."

"Who are you?"

"I'm his friend," said Croft, directly contradicting what he had said to Tane only minutes earlier.

The man gave a hoarse laugh.

"What's so funny?" Croft asked.

"The Silencer hasn't got any off-worlder friends, sheep."

"He does have one, and his name is Clifford Croft," said Croft. "If you kill me without talking to the Silencer first, you'll be next."

Something in the grim certainty of Croft's tone made the man pause for a few seconds, obviously weighing his options. Would the Silencer really be upset if he shot this intruder? Or was this stranger bluffing?

There's no telling what might have happened next if another voice hadn't interrupted the gunman's train of thought.

"Ted! Put that blaster down," said a woman who had stepped out of the front door onto the porch. "What did I tell you about shooting people on the porch?"

They turned to see a woman with brown wavy hair. She was wearing the traditional Graftonite blue denim jeans but also a brown leather vest, the first non-blue color they had seen anybody wearing since they had arrived. She also wore two pearl handled pistols, one holstered on each thigh.

The Graftonite immediately lowered his gun. "The Silencer's standing orders are to shoot-"

"And my standing orders are to get their names first."

"I've already gotten his name," said the Graftonite. He nodded to Croft. "This sheep claims he knows the Silencer."

"He does," said the woman. "And it's not polite to call our guests sheep." She paused, considering, then added, "At least not to their face." She turned to Croft, and gave a real smile. "Clifford Croft, what a surprise! What brings you here?"

Croft turned to face the Silencer's wife, Annie Oakley. It was not the name she had been born with, of course, but as the winner of the gold medal in the Galactic Trick Shooting competition five times running she was entitled to be called whatever she wanted.

"Hi, Annie. I'm here to see the Silencer. I need his help," said Croft.

"John's a bit busy right now getting ready for a mission," said Oakley. "But I'm sure he can spare a few minutes for you. Follow me."

Croft discretely admired her shapely buttocks as they followed into her into the spacious house, through a maze of rooms. They arrived at a room filled with equipment and provisions where a tall, thin man with dark hair was filling up a rudsack. He happened to be facing away from them when they entered.

"John, I have some unexpected guests to see you," said Annie.

"Tell them I'm not here."

Croft cleared his throat. "It's a bit too late for that."

The Silencer turned around, and, for a few seconds, actually showed surprise on his face, something Croft had never seen before. Emotions of any sort, except for irritation, were never quick to come for the Silencer. "Croft. What are you doing here?" he said, not even waiting for an answer as he turned back to his packing. This was as excited as Croft had ever seen him, which is to say, not very much.

"I need your help," said Croft.

"Sorry, I'm off on a mission," said the Silencer, not actually sounding very sorry at all. He looked over at his weapons rack, picked out two blasters, and weighed one in each hand, as if deciding which one to bring. Frowning, he made a decision, putting both in the rudsack.

"This is important," said Croft.

"So is my mission," said the Silencer.

"What is it?" said Croft.

"A bounty hunt," said the Silencer.

"I'm talking about preventing an interplanetary war, that's pretty important."

"I'm talking about making money. That's pretty important too." The Silencer continued to pack.

"I see," said Croft. "John, I'm here to talk with you about Mo Quandry-"

"He's of no concern to me," said the Silencer quickly. A little too quickly.

"He will be if he plunges Grafton into war against the League."

The Silencer closed the rudsack, lifted it up, and turned to Croft. "As long as he stays off my property, doesn't try to take a cut of my bounty, and keeps away from my lovely wife, I really don't care." He walked past Croft to Annie, and gave her a perfunctory kiss.

"Bye killer," he said to her. "I'll see you in two weeks, maybe ten days if things go even easier than I expect."

"I'll see you, John," Annie said, her voice softening, as she watched him go. She seemed awed for a moment, but when the Silencer left the room, she quickly snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry John was in such a rush, Clifford. Would you like a drink before you go?"

They sat out on the porch drinking vorsk, a coarse local liquor that burned Croft's throat after the first sip.

"So you're here about Mo," said Annie. "It's no surprise, really."

"What's it all about, Annie?" said Croft.

"He's been stirring people up, saying we aren't getting true value for our labor," said Annie. "He says that we're the best fighters in the galaxy, which is true, of course. But the controversial part he's talking about is upping our compensation rate."

"How, by unionizing?"

Annie laughed. "We already have the bounty hunter's guild. No, Quandry is saying we should simply go out there and take what we want."

"Like he did on Grafton IV," said Croft. "Only he didn't simply rob the planet, he actually occupied it."

"Yes, that was unusual," said Annie. "His people have effectively taken over. They collect the taxes, tariffs, and fees, and are getting quite wealthy, I'm told."

"How many people does he have there?"

Annie shrugged. "50, maybe 100."

"He controls an entire planet with only 100 people?"

"I suppose," said Annie. "You look surprised."

"Well, you people are fearsome warriors, but can 100 of you really stand up against a 100,000 man army? Or a blockbuster bomb?"

Annie laughed again. "You think in such conventional terms, Clifford. Yes, if you lined up 100 of us against 100,000 of you, we'd only manage to kill a few thousand of you before we were taken down." Only a few thousand?

Annie continued. "However, that's not the kind of war that Quandry waged."

"What kind of war did he wage?" Croft asked.

"You'll have to ask him," said Annie. "I wasn't there."

"You seem remarkably unconcerned," said Croft. "Don't you care if Quandry drags Grafton into a wider war?"

"I'm not involved," said Annie. "In fact, 99% of Graftonites aren't involved."

"What?" said Croft, looking surprised.

"Oh, he has his supporters, and a lot of sympathizers, maybe, though since they don't take many polls here, his level of support is hard to tell," said Annie. "But if you're asking how many blasters he has behind him for action, well, it can't be more than a few hundred, maybe a thousand or two."

"So you think we're blowing this out of proportion?" Croft asked.

"Not at all," said Annie. "He's gaining strength all the time; even I can see it. And a few thousand Graftonites can conquer a lot of planets."

Croft still couldn't understand how a handful of Graftonites, however skilled they might be, could take over an entire planet. It was a matter that merited further investigation.

"But things didn't really start going crazy until Rel Cadwalader was killed," said Annie.

"Cad--who?" said Croft.

"Cadwalader," said Annie.

"Who is he?"

"Who was he," Annie corrected. "A bounty hunter. He was gunned down a few weeks ago."

"I would think that can happen in your line of work, even to a Graftonite," said Croft.

"Yes, but it's seldom done by one's own employer," said Annie. "Rel did the mission, but when he went to collect his bounty, his employer tried to cheat him, only paying half. When Rel refused to accept it, he was gunned down."

"How sad," said Croft. "But I find it hard to believe that a typical Graftonite could simply be gunned down."

"Anyone can, if you have the element of surprise, and five people jump out of an alley with guns blazing," said Annie. "That was the other galling thing about it. It wasn't a fair one on one fight. It was a surprise hit, and five on one at that. That really rankled people almost as much as the hit itself."

"What do you mean?"

"On Grafton when someone calls out someone else, it's almost always one-on-one," said Annie. "It's considered sportsmanlike. The combination of Rel's employer first trying to cheat him and then kill him in such an unsporting way enraged people here. They kept broadcasting holos of the hit over and over on the local networks. It was only a few weeks later that Quandry riled up enough supporters to invade Grafton IV."

"There was a holo recording of the death of this bounty hunter?" said Croft.

"Yes, I think it was recorded by a security holovid," said Annie. "I'm surprised you don't know all this already, this is all public knowledge; don't you have any operatives on Grafton?"

Croft, remembering the images of the dead operatives, said, "We have some, ah, holes in our surveillance network."

Annie was about to reply but suddenly frowned as a groundcar pulled up in front of the ranch. Her hand instinctively snaked down to one of her pearl handled pistols. She wasn't expecting guests.

She was silent, watching, as a man in blue denim with his right arm in a sling stepped out of the car. Seeing Annie, he nodded respectfully, keeping his good arm well away from his holstered weapon.

The newcomer turned to Croft. "You Croft?" he asked gruffly.

Croft nodded. "You must be Carper Burundi."

The man nodded. Burundi was a tall, thin black man with a small afro like Barack Obama. He had a sour expression on his face. Even without his denim, he was obviously a Graftonite.

"What happened to your arm?" Croft asked.

"I scratched it," said Burundi, suddenly giving Croft an unexpectedly hateful glare.

"Well, the cavalry is here," said Croft. "Thanks for the drink, and the information, Annie."

"You barely touched your drink," said Annie wryly. "Feel free to give John another try when he gets back."

"I may do that," said Croft.

As she entered the house, Croft turned to face his team.

"So now that we're all together, what do we do?" Tane asked.

"I think the most obvious thing to do is to pay Mr. Quandry a visit," said Croft, watching the Clapper chase after butterflies.

"I don't think he likes off-worlders," said Tane. "That may not be very safe for us."

"Then it's a good thing that the Chief cleverly had us disguise ourselves as Graftonites."

Burundi snorted.

The Clapper clapped.

"What's with him?" Burundi asked, giving the Clapper a sharp glance.

"He has enthusiasm," says Croft. "Shall we go?"

Chapter 3: The Face of the Enemy

They tapped into one of the local online information networks (for a fee, of course--nothing was free on Grafton II), and quickly discovered that Quandry was holding a Peaceful Debate on a ranch in the middle of the continent the following day. It was too far to go by groundcar, so they had to rent passage on a private transport. With a maximum of prodding, Burundi located a transport they could rent. Croft steeled himself for the outrageous price they had to pay and simply billed it to one of the Column's unmarked accounts, but he knew he'd have a lot of explaining to do to the Chief afterwards. What kind of spy had he become when he had to spend half his time filling out and justifying billing forms?

During the trip out Croft tried to size Burundi up. The Graftonite studiously avoided eye contact with all of them, finding a bulkhead much more interesting to stare at. He also defied all of Tane's attempts to start a conversation with him.

"So, what do you normally do for a living?" said Tane.

Burundi glared at her. She timidly stared back. When it became obvious that she wasn't going to look away, he said, "I answer stupid questions."

"I'm just trying to be friendly," said Tane.

"Be anything you like," said Burundi generously.

Tane looked at the cast on his arm. "Does your injury hurt you?" said Tane.

Burundi turned to face her. "What are you implying, sheep?" he said his voice cold. His good hand strayed close to his holster.

Tane started to tremble. "I... I..."

"Are you saying I'm weak?"

"No, most certainly not!" said Tane, shaking her head vigorously. She looked downwards, obviously cowed.

Burundi relaxed his good arm, and some of the tension seemed to evaporate.

"Are we paying extra for attitude?" Croft asked.

Burundi turned to glare at him now.

"The only reason I'm asking is, because if we are, I'm happy to say we're getting our money's worth," said Croft. He stared Burundi in the eye, letting him know he wasn't in the slightest bit intimidated.

It was a very long and quiet trip in the transport after that.

When they touched down in a small, private clearing, they rented a groundcar for the usually unreasonable Graftonite fee. They drove to an estate of a wealthy rancher who was permitting Quandry to use his estate for the Peaceful Debate.

"As it is a Grand Meeting, or Peaceful Debate, as it is sometimes called, there could be anywhere from 100 to 500 people here," said Tane, as they entered a small stadium on the grounds.

"Doesn't sound so large," said Croft.

"On a world of only eight million, with such rugged individualists, it's considered significant," said Tane.

The bleachers filled up rapidly. They looked for seats.

"Watch it, sheep," said a Graftonite, pushing past Croft.

Croft checked his anger, probably saving his own life. He saw some available seats and went for them, but by the time he got there another Graftonite walked right in front of him and sat down. "You're blocking the view, sheep," said the Graftonite, staring at him.

They eventually found seating on the upper edges of the bleachers. As they sat down, a pair of Graftonites sitting in front of them turned around and looked distastefully at them. "I didn't know they allowed your kind here, sheep."

Croft looked at his denim clothes, and turned to Tane and muttered, "This disguise is working really, really well."

Just how were the Graftonites able to determine that they were off-worlders just by looking at them? Croft resolved to find out.

He tapped the man in front of him on the shoulder.

That was a mistake. The man whipped around, his blaster pointed at Croft.

No one spoke for a moment. The man waited for Croft to draw. Croft slowly raised his hands and gave a watery smile.

"You got a death wish, sheep?" said the Graftonite.

"I just want to know what makes you think we're off-worlders," said Croft.

The man snorted, shook his head, and turned around to face forward.

Croft looked at his companions; Tane looked frightened out of her wits; the Clapper looked idiotically content; and Burundi looked like he wished he were somewhere, anywhere else.

In a few minutes the bleachers were filled. Croft took a quick count of the audience; there were well over 1000 people there. Maybe Annie Oakley had underestimated Quandry's appeal.

A tall, dark haired man with a scar running down the side of his face stepped out into the arena, flanked by several guards. He had a blaster on one hip and a slicer strapped on the other. His image was amplified on holograms projected above and around the arena.

Croft recognized him immediately. It was none other than Mo Quandry. Quandry stood there for a moment, boldly basking in the attention of the crowd.

Immediately, there were wild cheers from the audience. The cheering went on for a while, until Quandry gestured with his hands for it to subside. Reluctantly, the audience went silent.

"Thank you, my friends," said Quandry. "As many of you know, I'm a man of action, not words, so let us get down to business. By now you have all seen the following."

The large floating holograms suddenly showed a grainy side street. A Graftonite could be seen standing there, in the middle of the conversation.

"You can't be serious," said the Graftonite. "I delivered on my end of the contract. Now you pay up."

"I'm afraid I can only afford to pay half," said the man the Graftonite was speaking to. While the Graftonite's features could clearly be seen, the other man was largely off camera--only his hands and body could be seen.

"That's not acceptable," said the Graftonite.

"I was afraid you might say that," said the man.

Suddenly, the image they were watching panned wide to show the image of blaster rifles being aimed out of several surrounding buildings. They discharged almost simultaneously, even as the Graftonite was drawing his weapon.

The Graftonite fell to the ground, his eyes open, as blood dripped from his body. Dark boots walked by his face.

"If I had known Graftonites worked so cheaply, I would have hired more of you," the figure chuckled.

There were screams and roars in the arena as the image faded. It took Quandry several minutes to quiet them down far enough so that he could be heard over the amplification system.

"You see!" he yelled. "They didn't even give him a chance! That's the way the sheep fight!"

He was greeted by more yelling and jeers.

"But now see how we fight!"

A new holographic image appeared, that of Graftonites running and shooting in a different setting. Croft guessed that these must be scenes of the invasion of Grafton IV. The Graftonites there didn't have the accelerated reflexes of their cousins on Grafton II. But they did have a substantial standing army. How had these Graftonites conquered the planet so easily?

The answer wasn't forthcoming from the holo that was being showed. Graftonites jumped and shot and ran rapidly, moving almost too quickly for the holo to record. But what they were shooting at and the overall tactical position of the battle couldn't be readily determined. The images were also put together from small clips, making it difficult to clearly see the larger picture. Intentionally so?

But the clips served their intended purpose.

"My friends, do you see what happens when we unite, when we take the fight to the sheep!" said Quandry.

There was a thunderous applause.

"There will be no more jobs for piddling fees, no more exploitation of our labor!"

There was more applause. The Clapper, unable to restrain himself, started joining in.

"We took Grafton IV like it was an apple waiting to be plucked!" said Quandry.

The crowd roared again.

"But never let it be said that we do not seek peace," said Quandry, suddenly changing his tone.

The crowd was silent, expectant.

"I propose a new... paradigm for dealing with other planets."

There was widespread laughter at Quandry's use of the word paradigm.

"Since we are stronger, better equipped, and yes, superior, in every way, to other planets, we will suggest to each inhabited planet that they pay us a... fee, a fee for protection," said Quandry.

The crowd roared with approval, clapping wildly. So did the Clapper.

"If a planet peacefully pays its assessed fee every year, we too will leave them in peace," said Quandry. "But if they do not, they will feel our wrath!"

The crowd roared. It was so loud that it was nearly deafening.

********

In a room deep inside the stadium, a group of Graftonites looked at holomonitors.

"Where?" said one of the Graftonites, the one in charge. His name was Janson Rocco, and he was Mo Quandry's chief of staff.

"I had it a moment ago," said one of the Graftonite security men, panning the image across the stadium bleachers. Suddenly, he saw what he was looking for, and stopped the panning. "There!"

The image showed Croft, Tane, and the Clapper, sitting around other Graftonites. To an uneducated eye, the image didn't look odd, especially when everyone was clapping. But it was when everyone stopped clapping that the oddness became apparent--the Clapper didn't stop clapping.

"Sheep, sir," the security man reported.

Rocco snapped his fingers. "I want them removed."

"Alive?" The security man inquired.

"At least one of them, yes, for questioning," said Rocco.

"Do you care which one?" said the security man.

"Not really," said Rocco, turning away.

********

Two men suddenly materialized on either side of Croft and his team. "You will come with us."

The other Graftonites in the audience, who were still listening to Quandry, turned to give Croft a withering stare.

"Did we sit in reserved seats?" said Croft, giving a little smile.

"I'm not going to ask again, sheep," said the Graftonite coldly.

Croft looked over at Burundi, who was carefully looking away. Perhaps their bodyguard, with only one good arm, didn't feel fast enough to take on two of his countrymen. Were they going to be taken to a quiet place to be killed? Possible, but unlikely. The Graftonites didn't seem to care about being subtle. If they wanted him dead, they could shoot him right here. The other Graftonites would probably applaud such a move. No, they were probably wanted for interrogation. That didn't sound very good either, but their options were limited. Croft knew he could never outdraw a Graftonite, much less two of them. All right, they would play along, for now.

Nodding, Croft got up. Tane, the Clapper, and Burundi followed.

They were led to a small room without windows where a serious looking Graftonite awaited them. They weren't disarmed, which only half surprised Croft. After all, the Graftonites would probably love it if they tried to draw their weapons. The two Graftonites stood guard behind them, undoubtedly silently hoping for this turn of events.

"Who are you?" asked the Graftonite behind the desk. It was Rocco, Quandry's chief of staff.

"My name is Clifford Toft," said Croft. "I'm from Regular."

"The truth, sheep," said Rocco, in bored tones.

"All right," said Croft, giving Tane a I-told-you-so look. "My name really is Clifford Toft. I'm leading a special diplomatic envoy from the League."

"You've got some nerve showing up here. What are you doing here?"

"Assessing the situation," said Croft. That seemed to be something a diplomat would say, right? He was abruptly aware that if the man behind the desk didn't like his answers, he wouldn't leave the room alive.

"Assessing..." said Rocco, looking away as if he were thinking, weighing options, and alternatives. Croft felt as if the decision came out the wrong way, he would be dead.

Rocco turned back to Croft. "And what have you assessed so far?"

"Ah," said Croft, not sure how much leeway he had to lie, even for a diplomat. "I was... impressed that Mo Quandry is looking for a peaceful solution."

Rocco gave Croft a cynical stare. He considered for a moment longer. Then he nodded. "All right," he said. He snapped his fingers. His guards opened the door.

"Is that 'all right, you can go?' or 'all right, shoot them'?" said Croft.

"I think you'll find out when you get outside that door," said Rocco. "Now get out of here and hope we never meet again."

Croft got up slowly. "How can I hope we never meet again if I don't know who I just met?"

"The name is Janson Rocco. I'm Mr. Quandry's chief of staff," said Rocco.

"Really? Could you arrange a meeting with Mr. Quandry?" said Croft.

Rocco chuckled. "The only time you and Quandry will meet is if he shows up at your funeral. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

Croft nodded, slowly leaving. But he noticed that Rocco gave Burundi a disproving stare as they left.

After they had left, one of the security men said, "What shall we do, boss? Shall we tell Mr. Quandry-"

"You tell Mr. Quandry nothing!" Rocco snapped. "I don't pay you to talk."

"Yes sir."

"I will tell Mo what needs to be told. For now, simply follow them. There's something not quite right about that so-called diplomatic envoy."

********

Croft drove the groundcar off the grounds of the ranch. "We'll never be in danger," said Croft, his voice in a whiny imitation of Tane's. "We'll pass for Graftonites. No one will figure out who we are."

Burundi chuckled.

Tane reddened. "It was the Chief's idea," she said.

"And you assured me it would work," said Croft. "It almost got us killed."

"I don't understand how they recognized us as being off-worlders," said Tane.

"Well, maybe we should ask an on-worlder," said Croft. "How were we recognized?"

There was silence in the groundcar. Croft carefully pulled over to the side of the road and turned to Burundi. "I'm talking to you."

Burundi gave Croft a withering look. "It should be obvious, even to a sheep."

Croft kept his anger in check. "You're an employee; answer the question, em-ploy-ee," he said, purposefully dragging out the last word.

Burundi's face darkened, and anger flared in his eyes. He didn't speak for a moment, but when he did, his voice was soft. "It should be obvious. It's everything. It's the retard with the idiotic expression on his face. It's you and the woman with your defeatist body language and feeble expressions."

"If I'm translating this correctly, then, we don't act arrogant enough to be Graftonites," said Croft. He acted naive on purpose. "Where did I go wrong?"

Tane said, "There are probably subconscious facial cues embedded in the Graftonite culture-"

"Brilliant, Tane," said Croft. "The only thing that matters is the end result, which is that our cover is blown."

"We still have our secondary cover as diplomats," said Tane, not showing any offense.

"Somehow I don't get the impression that these gentlemen put much weight in the concept of diplomatic immunity," said Croft.

"Then why did they let us go?" Tane asked.

"I don't know," said Croft. "Maybe they're not ready to create a bigger diplomatic incident by killing a League diplomat."

"From Quandry's announcement, it sounds like he's ready to blackmail the League for a major cash infusion," said Tane.

"Yes, that's how it appeared, didn't it?" said Croft. "Or maybe he was just saying what they wanted to hear, to whip up more support for his cause. And then there was the matter of that murdered Graftonite."

"What do you mean?" Tane asked.

"Isn't it curious that this incident with the murdered Graftonite seems tailor made for Quandry's purposes?" said Croft.

"Well, bounty hunters do get killed, even Graftonite ones," said Tane.

"Yes, but seldom in a way calculated to incur maximum ire among the Graftonites, and seldom is it conveniently recorded on a holodisk," said Croft. "Did you notice anything else unusual about that holorecording?"

"What do you mean, unusual?"

"Have a look," said Croft, producing his own holoprojector. He had had the sense of mind to record the event as it unfolded. Now it produced a smaller version of the shooting they had seen in the stadium.

********

As Croft talked to Tane, they were being observed from a quarter mile back down the road.....

"What are they doing?" asked one of the Graftonites with the field glasses.

"Just sitting there, in the ground car," said the other.

"Just sitting there?"

"Yeeeep."

********

And another quarter mile farther back....

"What are they doing?" said one of the agents.

"The Graftonites following them are just sitting there, watching Croft, who is also just sitting there."

"Just sitting there?"

"Da."

********

The holorecording of the execution of the Graftonite Rel Cadwalader finished playing in the groundcar.

"Well?" said Croft, turning to Tane.

"Well what?" said Tane.

"The Chief said you would provide insightful analysis," said Croft, shaking his head dismissively.

"Stop taunting me and tell me what you think you see," Tane snapped.

"Watch." Croft slowly replayed the events, providing running commentary.

"Here we clearly see Cadwalader's face... then the camera pans directly left... but for some reason we only see the body of his employer, not the face. If the camera went left, how did the head get lopped out of the picture? Now watch as the camera pans out to show the blaster rifles appearing." The image replayed. "Do you see it?"

"See what?"

"There's no way a camera positioned in such a way to catch Cadwalader could also pan the entire alley. It would have had to capture areas outside of its view, or be able to see through walls," said Croft. He moved the replay forward again, to show the body of Cadwalader on the ground, and the black boots standing by the fallen Graftonite's face. "Isn't it convenient that the security cam panned down once again, so that we couldn't see the face of the attacker?"

"Maybe the security cam was a multitasking unit that took a variety of recordings, and those were the images that Quandry selected."

"Why? Why would Quandry purposely obscure the pictures of Cadwalader's employer and his attackers?"

"I don't know," said Tane.

"And how do you explain the wide angle shot?"

"It could be from another camera."

"It... could... be... from... another... camera...," said Croft, slowly and derisively, like a mentally retarded person.

"Obviously, you disagree," said Tane coldly.

"Obviously," said Croft. He closed his eyes, and reclined his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking," said Croft. He opened them again. "We've got to dig some more into this."

"Why?"

Croft ignored the question. "But before we do, we have one last matter to deal with." And he was looking at Burundi as he said it.

Burundi showed no visible reaction.

"We were confronted by two Graftonites in the stadium today," said Croft. "And you didn't lift a finger to protect us."

"Why would I?" said Burundi, looking angry and puzzled at the same time.

"I don't know, maybe because we're paying you to?" said Croft.

"That's not what I was hired for," said Burundi.

"Really?" said Croft. "What exactly were you hired for?"

Burundi shrugged. "To be a guide."

"To... be... a... guide," said Croft, in that same slow, derisive tone he had formerly reserved for Tane. "Tane? You made the arrangements to hire him, didn't you?"

"Y-yes."

"Well?" said Croft.

"Well, what?"

"What terms did you hire him under?" Croft asked.

"He, um, was hired to guide us," said Tane. "But I presumed he would also protect-"

"You presumed," Croft sighed. Without waiting for a response, he turned to Burundi. "All right, how much would it cost to hire you for what we really hired you for?"

"For what?"

"Bodyguard," said Croft promptly.

"Five hundred thousand."

"Five hundred thousand?" said Croft, disbelievingly.

"Five hundred thousand a day," said Burundi.

"Five hundred thousand a day," said Croft, in a mocking tone.

"Payable in advance," Burundi added.

"Oh, that goes without saying," said Croft, in an even more mocking tone. He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Isn't that a bit above market rates, even for Grafton?"

"I don't think so," said Burundi. "Given the anti off-worlder sentiment, I don't think you'll be able to hire anyone else on Grafton."

"But you know full well we're not going to pay you half a million credits per day."

"Yes," said Burundi, giving an unfriendly smile.

"Then... why?"

"Because you're sheep," said Burundi. "I don't like you. And I certainly don't want to protect you."

"Then why are you working for us at all?"

Burundi raised his bandaged arm. "My last job knocked me out of commission for a few weeks. This is easy money."

"Easy money," said Croft. What was he being paid for, if not to protect them? "You've been paid for the entire week in advance?"

"Yes."

"Consider the next six days a gift," said Croft. "Get out of the car."

Burundi stared at Croft. "Drop me off back at the transport terminal."

"No, Croft!" said Tane. "The ch-" she broke off, looking at Burundi. "The boss said we had to keep him on."

"We'll see about that," said Croft.

********

"Of course you have to keep him on," said the Chief. "He's a local, he knows the situation on the ground." The holo of her image scowled at him. Croft had rented a few rooms at a nearby ranch for the night (at skyhigh rates, of course) and was now duly reporting in, like an agent on his very first assignment.

"He's also hostile, and won't lift a finger to help us," said Croft.

"Croft, you look at everything in black and white. He may be a little antagonistic, but he can be a source of useful information," said the Chief.

"I'm not keeping him on, he's just as liable to shoot me in the back," said Croft.

"You are keeping him on, unless you want to be recalled immediately and subject to court martial!" she said, glaring at him.

A court martial? What did she think this was, the military? This was only further evidence of the greater IQ disability in the top ranks of the Column. But Croft resisted the impulse to comment. The moment passed.

"What else do you have to report?" the Chief asked.

"I think there's something odd about that holovid of Cadwalader's death."

"So? What implication could that have?"

"I'm won't know, until I investigate more," said Croft.

"I think your time would be better spent meeting with local opinion leaders and gauging Quandry's level of support," said the Chief.

"Isn't that something that the real embassy staff can do?" Croft asked.

"The real embassy staff are holed up in their embassy, afraid to come out. This is a job for you, Mr. Croft."

Croft sighed. "All right."

"Anything else?" the Chief asked.

"One thing. You ordered that we assume the identities of native Graftonites. Not a single person has been fooled."

"A tribute to your skill as an infiltrator, I suppose," the Chief replied. "Report back at regular intervals." The contact was terminated from the other side.

"This mission only keeps getting better and better," said Croft, turning off the comm unit. He frowned for a moment, as if listening to empty air. Then he walked silently to the door, and then quickly opened it. Tane came tumbling in, as if she had been standing by the door.

"So I guess there's no need for me to reiterate our orders," said Croft dryly.

"We're to interview local opinion leaders," said Tane.

"Yes," said Croft. "Starting with friends and relatives of Rel Cadwalader."

"Croft, we're supposed to focus on opinion leaders."

"Who's to say that they don't have opinions?"