Attack of the Bounty Hunters Ch. 05-06

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

Chapter 5: A Visit to the Quandry Ranch

"But I didn't kill him," Croft explained for the fourth time.

"His death might have been avoided if you hadn't gone off on this unauthorized mission," said the frowning holoimage of the Chief.

"It was Sally," said Croft. "Her presence on my unauthorized mission was most definitely unauthorized. So don't blame me. Besides, we found out a crucial fact: Cadwalader was alive."

"Was is the operative word," said the Chief. "And then there's the body."

"What about it?"

"Why didn't you recover the body? That would have been concrete evidence that Cadwalader hadn't died in some shootout on Whenfor."

"Well, I can't deny that," said Croft. "But while I wouldn't have flinched at the thought of carrying around a charred, smoking corpse in the backseat of our groundcar, if we had publicized what we found, there might have been some uncomfortable questions asked."

"Such as?" the Chief asked.

"Such as how did said corpse get burned almost beyond recognition? I suppose I could have told them that a supersecret gamma operative with pyrotechnic mental powers (from a section we don't even acknowledge the existence of to the outside world), burned him to a crisp. But even if we put aside the security breach involved, I think such a disclosure would have served Quandry's purposes."

"How so?" The Chief asked.

Croft wanted to slap his head and frustration and call the Chief an idiot, but resisted the impulse. "Quandry is basing much of his campaign on the fact that Cadwalader was killed by outsiders under unfair circumstances. If we reveal that an outsider, namely Big Red here, burned him to death before he had a chance to fire his weapon, that wouldn't have significantly improved the situation," said Croft.

"We could attribute his death to another cause--an accidental fire, perhaps," said the Chief.

Croft made a face. "The Graftonite who rented us the transport and the Graftonite who rented us the groundcar knew we were in the area. Sooner or later the incident would be traced to off-worlders."

"Do you think that will happen now?" the Chief asked.

"I'm not concerned that they will publicize it, if that's what you're asking," said Croft. "If they do, they will also have to answer some uncomfortable questions as well, such as how this formerly dead person was killed a second time. So I think this situation is basically a no-win for either side." Croft brightened. "A tie. That's not so bad, is it?"

"I don't see it that way at all," said the Chief. "You had the chance to discredit Quandry and failed."

"I keep telling you it was Red Sally. Don't blame me if you can't put a lock on the looney bin," said Croft.

Clap, clap! "I heard that!" came the Clapper's voice from the background.

The Chief paused, as if straining for another thought, and then she slumped, and sighed. "Well, what's done is done."

"I've found that to be true as well," said Croft, glad to be able to find an area of agreement with the Chief.

"Then you should continue on your original mission," said the Chief.

"Ah, can you refresh my memory....?"

The Chief glared at him. "Meet with local elites and attempt to gauge Quandry's popularity. Try to find out what he's up to and see if local leaders can be brought over to our side. I know that Tane has come up with a credible list of local leaders for you to meet with."

"Very credible, I'm sure," said Croft. "All right. Just one more thing. As I might have mentioned, it's entirely possible that this incident will be traced back to me and my cover, what little I had, will be blown. What do I do if a bunch of Graftonite gunmen come after me?"

The Chief raised an eyebrow. "You're a level one agent; I'm surprised you need to ask."

"We're not talking about your typical adversaries here," said Croft. "I think a Graftonite on life support could shoot quicker and faster than any off-worlder can."

The Chief paused, and tried to think of an answer. "Well, as a diplomatic envoy you should have diplomatic immunity," said the Chief.

"I'm not sure that will mean very much to Graftonite killers," said Croft.

"It will have to do," said the Chief. "I've spent enough time on this matter as I can. Report back at regular intervals. And one more thing, Mr. Croft." She leaned closer into the pickup for emphasis. "No more slipups." Her holoimage faded.

Croft turned to Tane, who had been standing in the background. "Simply delightful, wouldn't you agree?"

********

"Dead?" said Quandry, looking stunned. "How?"

"We're not sure," said Rocco. "He and the guards we put on him were burned."

"Burned," said Quandry, looking puzzled. How had that happened? "How odd. Do you think someone is trying to tell us something? Is there any idea who did this?"

"Actually, we're fairly sure," said Rocco. "There were some sheep in the area at the time." He pressed a button, and a holoimage of Croft appeared.

"Who's that?"

"The sheep who appeared at your rally. Says his name is Toft, a League ambassador."

"Yes, I remember your mentioning him," said Quandry. "He had a lot of guts, showing up here. But surely he couldn't have killed Cadwalader."

Rocco pressed another button, and an holoimage of Burundi appeared. "He's not alone."

"The sheep has hired some local muscle?" said Quandry. "Perhaps that explains things. Who is he?"

"I checked him out. Carper Burundi. Strictly small fry," said Rocco.

Quandry said nothing for a moment, staring into space.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'm thinking," said Quandry. He stared a moment longer. Then he turned and faced Rocco. "Kill him."

"Burundi?"

"The sheep."

"If he really is a diplomatic envoy, that could put us at odds with the League," said Rocco.

"One would hope," said Quandry.

"Isn't that a bit ahead of schedule?" said Rocco.

"Not any more," said Quandry.

"And what about Burundi?"

"He's not a priority. But when you send someone to eliminate this sheep, make sure he's good enough to take Burundi too, just in case," said Quandry.

********

"I think I now know what went wrong with your chimp," said Croft.

The holoimage of Levi frowned, looking sad even in his classic chef's outfit. "Not understand; jumping around everywhere?"

"And dizzy and disoriented, yes," said Croft. "Didn't you see that in your chimps?"

Levi considered. "Saw some wild behavior, yes, but thought it was... chimplike."

"Well, I guess this teaches me a lesson about volunteering to be a test subject in your lab," said Croft. "Levi, seriously, I'm desperate here; is there anything you can send me that can protect me?"

"Let me think," said Levi. He hummed softly to himself as he kneaded some dough in front of him. Croft let him work at it for a minute, then decided enough was enough.

"Levi?"

"No," said Levi. "No ideas yet."

"What about an energy shield?"

"Too bulky."

"Some kind of armor?"

"None available."

"Nothing?"

Levi considered again. "No."

"Then I guess it's up to me," said Croft, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"You master spy," said Levi. "You survive."

"Thanks," said Croft. "I can't tell you how much that means. Please don't let me interrupt your important cooking. Be sure to bake something tasty for my funeral," he added, signing off.

"Do you really think we're in danger?" Tane asked.

"I think you'd have to ask that question of the last agents who preceded us," said Croft obtusely.

"But they're all-"

Croft abruptly got up and started pacing around the room.

"What-"

"Shhh!" said Croft. He paced some more, thinking intently. Then he paced even more. Then he stopped, and smiled at Tane.

"An idea?"

"Maybe," said Croft. "If I can't outdraw them, maybe I can out think them."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll see," said Croft. "Now, about these very important meetings you're arranging-"

"I've scheduled a meeting with the head of the largest bounty hunter's union on Grafton tomorrow. I'm still working on several others-"

"Good, good," said Croft. He would need at least a day to get the electronics he needed ready anyway. "Just don't schedule anything for the day after tomorrow."

"Why?"

"I'm going on a little trip," said Croft.

The following morning Croft, Tane, the Clapper, and Burundi found themselves at the office of Tendan Ribbers, the planetary head of the Union of Graftonite People Locators. They had first dropped Red Sally off at the spaceport on Regular, making sure she boarded the first flight to August. She had protested bitterly, and refused to go, until Croft threatened to have her locked in the Ice Room. The mere mention of the Ice Room silenced Sally, and she meekly boarded her rocket, though not before giving them a parting glare.

Then they went to meet Ribbers, at his office in Regular.

"I'm surprised that he's agreed to see us, especially on such short notice," Croft commented, as they drove to his office.

"He seemed almost oddly eager to meet with us," said Tane. "I'm not sure why."

"Maybe because it's a trap?" said Croft.

Burundi gave a dry laugh.

"Something amuses you?" Croft asks.

"If one of us wanted one of you dead, we wouldn't need anything so elaborate as a trap," said Burundi. "We'd just come up to you and shoot you."

"But that wouldn't be very sporting, would it?" said Croft. "What about the Graftonite sense of fair play?"

"Oh, he'd give you a chance to draw your gun," said Burundi. "It would be a fair one-on-one contest, as fair as a battle between one of you and one of us could be."

"Fair, hmm," said Croft, filing that information away. The beginning of a plan was forming.

They went inside, were announced, and very shortly was in the office of Tendan Ribbers.

A fat Graftonite. Ribbers was the first fat Graftonite they had ever seen. Of course, he had a gun strapped around his waist, but it almost looked comical on him. Still, Croft was almost certain that Ribbers could outdraw him on any day of the week.

Ribbers was fat for a Graftonite. But that didn't stop him from being a bounty hunter for over thirty years. "Maybe they can run faster than I can, but they can't run faster than this," he once said, raising his blaster. Still, bounty hunting, by its very nature, did involve a lot of chasing, and chasing was not something Ribbers enjoyed. Ribbers enjoyed capturing, but one could not be accomplished without the other. So, after a number of years of doing this, he decided that it would be easier to let other bounty hunters chase down their targets and then collect money from the bounty hunters themselves. He came up with the idea of forming a union of bounty hunters. At first, the fiercely individualistic Graftonites refused to join, but Ribbers put a lot of effort into marketing. He was actually quite good at making sales. He convinced employers that they would be better off with a more reliable network of bounty hunters and convinced them to hire through his organization. Once he had clients, getting bounty hunters to sign up was easy. And he got an easy two percent off the top of every capture, and all he had to do was sit at his desk and collect it! It was the ultimate dream job for him.

"Come in, come in, sit down, sit down," said Ribbers, giving an automatic smile. "So good to see representatives of the League here."

"Your welcome is most... unexpected," said Croft. "I was under the impression that Quandry-"

Ribbers waved a hand dismissively. "Don't get me started on Quandry. Part of a very small band of malcontents which is trying to give Grafton a bad name." He smiled again.

"You don't like Quandry?" said Croft.

"It's no secret, Mr. Toft," said Ribbers. "May I call you Clifford?"

"By all means," said Croft.

"Clifford, Quandry's nothing but a troublemaker, a bag of hot silesium gas," said Ribbers.

"So do most of your bounty hunter members-"

"Bounty hunters?" said Ribbers, frowning.

Croft cast a look at Tane, as if wondering if he were in the right place. "I thought-"

"I'm the chief steward of the Union of Graftonite People Locators, yes," said Ribbers. "But we're no bounty hunters, Clifford."

"So... what are you?" said Croft.

"We're people locators. We locate lost people, and return them to whomever pays us."

"No offense intended, but that sounds a lot like bounty hunting to me," Croft commented.

Ribbers laughed. "Bounty hunting is a crude term for unprofessionals, people who give our entire industry a bad name. Did you know that 44% of unlicensed people locators purposefully inflict pain on their bounties?"

"No."

"Did you know that 29% of unlicensed people locators allow themselves to be bribed out of completing their mission?"

"No-"

"Did you know that an astonishing 54% of unlicensed people locators break local laws to complete their missions?"

"I guess I knew it was some number, but didn't know the exact percentage," Croft admitted.

"It's amateurs like them who give our members a bad name," said Ribbers.

"So bounty... people locators in your union are more professional?"

"Of course," said Ribbers. He held up a small disc. "A code of conduct. Rules of regulations, for locating and capturing bounties and for dealing with employers. Even rules for the humanitarian handling of the captured sheep in transit--begging your pardon, Clifford."

"No offense taken," said Croft. "So your members are kinder, gentler... people locators."

"There's no reason for our industry to be a cruel one. We pride ourselves on locating our targets, and acquiring them with a minimum of hassle. In fact, when our targets hear that a Graftonite has been hired to locate them, they only hope that it's one of us."

"I guess only the lucky ones get caught by you," said Croft, wondering what happened to the people who were "returned" to the employers who put out the bounties.

"Absolutely! We've made people locating a respectable, humane process," said Ribbers.

"So do most... people locators belong to your union?" said Croft.

"Nearly all the respectable ones do," said Ribbers.

"Ah.... If you included the unrespectable ones in the totals, what percentage would that be?"

Ribbers paused. "Well, that's hard to say," he said, looking uncomfortable.

"Maybe you could write it down?" Croft asked.

Ribbers sighed. "About a quarter of people in the profession work within our union." He added defensively, "In a fiercely individualistic society such as ours that's actually quite an achievement-"

"And the other 75%? Do they work with other unions?"

Ribbers shook his head. "As I just said, Clifford, we are a fiercely independent people. No, the rest are freelancers. They are so strong willed that they don't see the benefits--did I mention the benefits? Full medical, dental, and death benefits?"

"No, you didn't."

"Our locators are even insured for up to two million credits for accidental injury or dismemberment. That's why potential employers come to us. They know if an innocent third party accidentally gets shot by a people locator they hire, they're in good hands if they're working with us."

"It all sounds very... professional," said Croft. "So how do your members feel about Mr. Quandry?"

"Oh, he's so unprofessional," said Ribbers. "Did you know he was once a member of the Union?"

"Really?" said Croft.

"He tried a takeover, a number of years ago. Didn't have the votes," said Ribbers. "People saw right through him."

"What did they see?" said Croft.

"Well, he has no honor. Totally unprofessional," said Ribbers.

"I'm glad you feel that way," said Croft. "He's trying to muster support for some very dangerous and aggressive policies."

"I agree," said Ribbers.

"He could destabilize the situation and make all Graftonites look... unprofessional."

"I agree again," said Ribbers.

"That's why if you were to speak out against him-"

Ribbers held up a hand. "Mr. Toft, I don't get involved with politics."

"But we're only talking about exercising your right of free speech-"

"And then he can exercise his right to bear arms," said Ribbers.

"What do you mean?"

Ribbers shook his head. "Mr. Toft, you really need to become more familiar with our political system."

"I didn't gather that you had one," said Croft. "But if you speak up-"

"Sure, I can convene a Peaceful Debate, and speak my mind," said Ribbers. "But if Quandry or one of his lackeys doesn't like what I have to say, they may call me out."

"Call you out," said Croft dumbly. "What about your fiercely independent streak? What about exercising the right to say whatever you want?"

"We do--if we think it's worth the consequences," said Ribbers. "Don't get me wrong, I don't agree with what Quandry is doing. But unless he's going up directly against the Union--and he isn't--I can't take the risk of sticking my neck out without some sort of provocation."

"I see," said Croft, not trying very hard to hide his disappointment.

"You have to understand, he has some gold medalists working for him-" Ribbers was interrupted by a buzz on his desk. He pressed a button. "Yes?"

The voice on the other end was projected directly to Ribbers. Croft could only hear Ribbers talk.

"What does he want?" Ribbers asked.

They didn't hear the response.

Ribbers looked at Croft. "I see." He considered for a moment. "Well, tell him to stay off the grounds, then."

Another response.

"If he refuses, send the groundskeeper. He's a retired bronze medalist, you know," said Ribbers. He pressed a button and ended the conversation.

"I'm afraid our time together is at an end," said Ribbers.

"What was that all about?" said Croft.

Ribbers looked away, as if debating what to say.

"Mr. Ribbers?"

"There's a gentleman waiting outside," said Ribbers.

"Waiting... for what?"

"He's waiting for you," said Ribbers.

"Who is he?" said Croft.

"I didn't catch the name," said Ribbers.

"Well, what does he want?" said Croft.

"To kill you," said Ribbers.

Croft pondered for a minute. The brashness of the act stunned him. Someone had simply walked into Ribber's establishment and announced he was here to murder someone. On any other planet he could call the police. But here there was no police, no laws, only the power of the gun.

"He's waiting, just outside your office?" Croft asked, his hand snaking down to his blaster. Not that that would do him much good. How could he outdraw a Graftonite?

"Oh, no," said Ribbers. "I won't tolerate a contract killing here in the building. Here at the Union we do have standards, you know."

"So you sent him away?"

"No. He's waiting for you outside our building."

"Do you have a back exit?" said Croft.

"No," said Ribbers. He stood up. "I'm sorry you have to die, but it's been nice talking with you." He left the office without shaking hands or making eye contact.

Croft, the Clapper, Tane, and Burundi sat alone in Ribber's office for a long moment.

Then Tane said, "What are we going to do?"

Croft stood up. "We're going to leave."

"But you'll be killed!" said Tane.

"I'm not very killable," said Croft.

Burundi laughed.

"Do you see something funny?" said Croft.

"You don't have a chance," said Burundi. "There's no way you can outshoot one of us." He chuckled.

Croft pressed a button on his comm. "Then it's a good thing I just canceled your next paycheck."

Burundi immediately stopped in mid-laugh.

"Is there something you want me to do?" Tane asked.

"Well, I wouldn't advise you to stand right in front of me," said Croft.

"What's the plan?"

"Let's go outside and see," said Croft, as he started for the door, trying to look more casual than he felt.

"Did you really cancel my next paycheck?" Burundi asked.

"Now who is the nervous one?" Croft asked.

They left the building. A man stood there expectantly. A crowd had formed around him. Obviously, the word had spread that there was going to be some action here.

Croft exited first, keeping space between him and Tane and the Clapper. He didn't care where Burundi was standing.

Burundi nodded slightly to the man, keeping his good arm away from his weapon as he stepped aside. The man nodded slightly to him. Burundi had made his intentions clear; he wasn't getting involved.

"Hello," said Croft, slowly walking forward. He kept his hand well away from his blaster. "Can I help you?"

The man still hadn't drawn his gun, but he stood there, staring at Croft intently, waiting for Croft's slightest move towards his own gun.

"I'm here to kill you, sheep," said the man.

"May I ask why?" Croft said, still walking forward. He was only about 20 feet away now.

"Because I feel like it," the man grinned.

"If I've done something to offend you, please let me know," said Croft.

"You offend me, sheep," the man spat.

Croft was now five feet away from the man. There was no way a Graftonite, or anyone else, could miss at this distance.

"What're you doing, sheep?" said the man, eyeing Croft suspiciously.

The crowd held its breath.

Croft slowly went down on his knees in front of the Graftonite.

"Please!" he said. "Please don't kill me!"

The Graftonite looked at Croft in disgust.

"Pleeeeeease!" said Croft, starting to cry. "I'm just a humble, defenseless diplomat!"

"Get up," the Graftonite muttered.

"Pleeeeassseee.... Don't.... kill.... meeeeeeeeee.......," Croft sobbed.

"Get up," said the Graftonite. "I have a schedule to keep. You're going to make me late for my next appointment. Stop crying and draw your gun."

Croft turned to the watching crowd. Still sobbing, he wailed, "I'm simply defenseless! This isn't going to be a gunfight, this is going to be an execution!" He started crying even louder.

The Graftonite took a step back and quickly turned to eye the crowd, his attention not straying from Croft for more than a second. He didn't like what he saw even in this quick scan of the area. People were muttering and shaking their heads.

"Pleeeease, I'm so heeelpleeesssss!" Croft wailed again.

The muttering in the crowd grew louder. The Graftonite hesitated. He was only slightly reluctant to kill the wailing Croft. What concerned him more was the crowd. If one of them objected to this execution, he could be called out. And someone in the crowd could be an Olympic medalist.

Looking down at Croft, his expression hardened as he made a decision. Quandry had paid him to make a real kill, not to execute livestock. "Get out of my sight," said the Graftonite. "You disgust me," he said, with real revulsion in his voice.

"Yes... yes... thank you.... Thank you...," said Croft, still sobbing uncontrollably as he crawled away. He slowly got to his feet, acutely aware that the Graftonite could shoot him in the back as he slowly made his way through the crowd, around the corner.

The sobs immediately cut off as Croft turned the corner. He turned and waited for his approaching companions.

"Very clever," said Tane.

"The crybaby defense," said Burundi. "You were lucky this time, sheep. Next time there may not be a crowd, or a killer who is that sensitive."

"That was no luck," said Tane. "How did you know that would work?"

"Simple psychology," said Croft. "I know the Graftonites like fair fights. So I tried to make the fight as unfair as possible--in my opponent's favor."

"Very clever," said Tane admiringly.

"Perhaps you'll put in a good word for me with the Chief," said Croft dryly.

He had done it. He had survived an encounter with a hostile Graftonite without resorting to any of Levi's tricks, and he had survived.

"What do you mean, he let him walk away?" Quandry thundered. It was the following evening and only now that Quandry had learned the news. He sat in his spacious multi-room office on his ranch.

"The man made a spectacle of himself, weeping and helpless," said Rocco.

"So? Why didn't he just shoot the sheep?" Quandry raged. He abruptly got up and went into the adjoining room, opening a food storage unit. There were several of them in the room; crouched behind the side of one of them, only partially obscured from view, was Clifford Croft, dressed in a cammo tarp from head to toe that perfectly matched the color of whatever he was next to.

Quandry carried a sandwich back to the other room, apparently not noticing the odd shape sticking out of the side of one of the cupboards.

Rocco said, "There were people around, they might not have liked it...."

"Who cares what they liked!" Quandry exploded. He looked down at his sandwich, as if something was missing, or something puzzled him.

Quandry got an odd look on his face, as if he were trying to remember something. Suddenly, he went in quick strides back to the food storage area.

Quandry looked around slowly, as if scanning for something. Then, in purposeful steps, he moved to the food storage unit that Croft had been hiding behind, went to it, opened it, pulled out a drink, nodded to himself, then closed the unit, returning to the other room.

"If there had been a silver or gold medalist in the crowd, they might've caused trouble," said Rocco.

One of the food units in the other room opened. Croft snuck out. He planted something under one of the units, then crept out of the room through another doorway.

"I don't care!" said Quandry savagely. He swept his hand across his desk, accidentally knocking his drink over. He quickly righted the bottle, but the damage was done, and several of his papers were wet. "Let's continue this in the dining room," he said.

They both entered the nearby dining room. Neither apparently noticed the dark shape under the table.

"I want you to fire him and find someone else who can do the job right," said Quandry, chewing vigorously. "Now, what's the status of our operations?"

He kicked out vigorously with his foot, just missing Croft's head by an inch. Croft leaned backwards just barely in time, still in a crouch.

"We're still working on phase two," said Rocco. He lazily stretched out his legs under the table. Suddenly, he felt something solid.

Rocco looked startled. He started to look down under the table when he felt a sharp kick from the object he had just touched. "Watch where you put your clumsy legs, you just jabbed me," Quandry snapped, finishing his sandwich. He took a long drink and said, "I don't want to hear about delays. Get working on it."

He abruptly got up from the table, and looked down thoughtfully at it.

"What?" said Rocco.

"I've always thought it was too small," said Quandry. "Get a bigger table."

He and Rocco left the room.

Croft, covered in sweat, got out from under the table. He tiptoed to the doorway, waiting for the sounds of footsteps to recede.

He had planted eavesdropping devices in several rooms of the ranch. He had wanted to wire the entire ranch, but Croft sensed his luck was running out and that it was time to go. He walked silently upstairs, to the bathroom. He had entered through the second story bedroom window, and he intended to exit the same way. He had special climbing gloves on that could grip almost any surface, so climbing down would not be a problem.

But just as he got to the bedroom he heard footsteps rushing behind him. He dashed inside, hiding behind the door.

Heavy footsteps entered the bedroom. And then the footsteps stopped, just inside the door, and a voice, said, "What?"

It was Quandry.

Croft heard a faint voice in the distance say, "There's a new report you need to see."

"Just a moment, I just want to change into more comfortable boots," said Quandry.

Quandry entered the bedroom and immediately turned left to one of his closets. He cast a quick glance at the empty space on the other side of the doorway and then looked into the shoe closet. He took off his boots, picked out a new pair, and sat on the edge of the bed, humming as he put them on.

Then he walked out of the room, and his footsteps grew distant.

Croft stood up from behind the far side of the bed, where he had been lying. He reflected that this would have been a good opportunity to assassinate Quandry; he could have shot the Graftonite in the back.

Croft grimaced; he didn't feel any special need for "fair fights" like the Graftonites did, but he wasn't at all sure that killing Quandry would solve the problem. Besides, the Chief probably would want to be consulted on little things like political assassinations in advance.

There had never been so much bureaucracy in the old days.

Sighing softly to himself, Croft moved to the window and made his escape.

Chapter 6: The Industrialist And The Olympics Official

"I don't think we're getting anywhere with this," said Croft. He was in another endless conference with the Chief, with Tane at his side. Croft hated these constant consultations with the Chief. It made him feel like an over supervised child.

"What do you think, Sylvia?" said the Chief. Croft noted the Chief's familiarity with Tane. The Chief liked Tane. Tane was her pet.

Tane glanced worriedly at Croft. She clearly didn't want to alienate Croft, but she also didn't want to get dragged down with him. She took a breath and said, "I think Ribbers could be a moderating influence, but political space in Grafton is limited."

"So limited that he can get shot if he speaks out against Quandry," Croft translated.

"As a political actor, according to the Keman-Nolan political science model for a developing world with only informal governmental structures, Ribbers is behaving like the classic rational actor man-"

"Rational in that he doesn't want to get shot," said Croft, continuing to translate.

"But if we can create more political space, perhaps an enlightened dialogue in the community, we may get more prominent non-state actors to express their views."

"Are you suggesting we call the Graftonites together for a fireside chat?" said Croft.

"I think we can if we approach the proper non-state actor elites. For example, your friend the Silencer is very well respected-"

"My friend the Silencer is no one's friend, and if you called him a non-state actor elite he'd either laugh at you or shoot you, or both," said Croft. "He's not going to do anything for us unless there's something in it for him."

"But surely we can convince him that what is good for Grafton is good for him-" said Tane

"The Silencer isn't a dummy," said Croft. "If there's a civil war going on outside his house he won't get involved unless it spills over onto his front lawn."

"Well, then maybe we can use other non-state actors to enlarge the political debate," said Tane.

"Who did you have in mind?" the Chief asked.

"I've identified several other individuals who are respected Graftonites who might help," said Tane. "A prominent industrialist, a leading Olympics official, and a major weapons manufacturer."

"And what makes you think that any of those will offer to help, or even be sympathetic to our cause?" said Croft.

"You'll have to convince them," said the Chief.

"I'm a spy, not a diplomat," said Croft.

"This time you'll need to be a little of both," said the Chief.

"We have diplomats for this," said Croft. "Wait, I forget, they're afraid to come out of their embassy, right?"

"They're under a security lockdown for their own protection," said the Chief. She changed the subject. "Now listen, Croft. Quandry's demand that other worlds make 'security' payments to Grafton has caused quite a stir."

"I'll bet," said Croft. "Is the League going to let itself be blackmailed?"

"Of course not," said the Chief. "That's totally against our principles."

"Totally," said Croft.

"On the other hand, we are considering extending development assistance-"

"So you are considering paying," said Croft.

"It would not be for blackmail, it would be for local economic development," said the Chief.

"Of course," said Croft. "And you think this will defuse the crisis?"

"Once the moderates among the Grafton nationalists see that we are ready to deal, the hardliners will have to go along or lose support," said the Chief.

"Right," said Croft. He managed to keep a straight face until the Chief signed off.

When the Chief's image faded, Tane turned to him. "Why didn't you tell her that you had planted listening devices in Quandry's home?"

"For the same reason you didn't," said Croft.

"You threatened me with bodily harm if I did," said Tane.

"Exactly," said Croft. "It was only common sense to say nothing at all."

Tane looked puzzled but plowed on. "Have you heard anything useful?"

Croft, not being able to listen to hours of recordings, was using a computer program that filtered out blank time and mundane conversation to present him with condensed highlights. So far he hadn't heard anything tremendously interesting but he had just planted the devices the day before. "Not yet."

"Then you'll have time to attend a meeting with Mr. Tagan," said Tane.

"Tagan?"

"Of Tagan Industries. It's the biggest corporation on Graftonite."

"With a population of only eight million people, how big can that be?"

By galactic sizes, not so big. But Croft soon learned that Tagan Industries had a monopoly or near-monopoly on a wide range of products and services produced on Grafton, from roads to building equipment to clothing to technical tools to electronics and more. Tane had arranged a meeting with the organization's President, Til Tagan, whose offices were on a large tract of land outside the capital, Regular.

Burundi led the way, driving them there in a rented ground car. Croft, looking lazily behind them as he drove, said, "I think we're being followed."

"By whom?" said Tane.

"I don't know," said Croft.

"What if it's another Graftonite killer?" said Tane.

"I don't think a second one will be taken in by tears," Burundi said, chuckling nastily.

Croft looked at Burundi, started to say something, stopped, and then said something other than what he had first intended. "You're only working for us because we couldn't hire anyone else. You said that Graftonites didn't want to work for off-worlders. And yet Ribbers didn't mention that the members of his union had any qualms about working for off-worlders."

"That's off-planet, sheep," said Burundi. "Out of sight of other Graftonites. It's a world of difference working for a bounty off-planet, for a real job. Being led around by sheep on Grafton like a trained seal, however, is another story."

"So you're a trained seal," Croft remarked absentmindedly. But he frowned as he said it. He sensed there was something important he was missing here, an idea that wasn't quite crystallizing, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. The more he tried to grab at it, the more it slipped away. Just what had he been thinking?

"We're arriving at our destination," said Burundi, slowing the groundcar to a halt. "If they're going to shoot you, they'll probably do it now."

Croft looked behind them. The other car had slowed to a halt too, some two blocks away. Whoever it was, they weren't coming to challenge him in close combat.

Could it be a sniper with a long distance rifle? That wasn't the Grafton way. But anything was possible here. Croft took out a pair of electrobinocs and trained them on the distant car.

He found himself looking into a groundcar with two occupants, both of whom were looking right back at him with their own electrobinocs.

********

"Fool, Yuri! I told you we shouldn't have followed him this closely!" said one of the occupants of the other groundcar, putting down the electrobinocs.

"We would have lost him otherwise," snarled the one called Yuri. "So he knows we are here. We are still keeping an eye on him."

"The Major will not like knowing we were discovered," said his companion. His name was Samov.

"Then the Major doesn't have to learn that inconvenient fact," said Yuri. "She is not our direct superior."

"But she is with the Bureau of Special Tasks-"

"We will answer all questions asked of us, but volunteer nothing," said Yuri. "They're going into the building now. Watch closely!"

********

When Croft saw that they were merely being observed, he decided to take no action and to proceed with the mission. They entered the building and announced their presence. Within a few short moments, they found themselves before Til Tagan.

Til Tagan was a tall, dark haired man, like most Graftonites. For the owner of the largest corporation on Grafton, Tagon Industries, you wouldn't know it from his building or his office. His corporate headquarters was a mere three stories tall. His office was small, his desk old. Tagan didn't believe in spending money unnecessarily.

He had started out as a gunman, and was good at it. Quite good. But unlike most Graftonites, he didn't enjoy the work. Tagan was odd in that he enjoyed making money but didn't enjoy killing or capturing people to get it. So he joined the small minority of Graftonites who went into business. His first venture was selling ferroconcrete. He was successful but an existing ferroconcrete business objected to his entry in the market, and tried to kill Tagan. Tagan killed him instead.

Then Tagan, consolidating his control of the ferroconcrete market, expanded into other lines of construction materials and consumer goods. Whenever he found competitors who were troublesome he made them offers most of them couldn't refuse. The few who did refuse were not much of a concern for long either.

Over a period of years he had built up the largest company on Grafton. Tagan employed a number of Graftonites in his business, but no longer shot competitors himself. That he left to his enforcement division, where he employed a number of Olympic gold medalists. Now all he did was sit back and make money.

Tagan greeted Croft with a nod as he, the Clapper, Tane, and Burundi took seats in his office.

"Thank you for meeting with us. I'm very impressed by what I hear about your company," said Croft. "You represent the largest company on all of Grafton-"

"Not just represent, but own," said Tagan.

"All of it?" said Croft.

"Yes, Mr. Toft."

"I thought a company this size would be publicly owned-"

"We don't place much stock in publicly owned companies," said Tagan. He said the word public with a certain disdain.

"I'm amazed that your company has managed to branch out into so many areas," said Croft. "Everything from heavy construction to linens. I'm really surprised you don't have more competition."

"Well, you have to understand that Grafton is an unusual market," said Tagan. "We have the population of a province spread out over an entire planet. A small market in a large area is difficult to serve, and not many companies think it's worth the effort." Especially after they are encouraged to retire.

"Does that explain why prices are, ah, marked up a bit?" Tane asked, choosing her words very carefully.

"Precisely," said Tagan, not taking offense. To the contrary, he seemed to be proud of monopoly pricing. "It's the difficulty of serving such a geographically distributed market that reduces economies of scale and forces higher prices. That's why if you're poor-"

"You shouldn't come to Grafton," said Croft. "Yes, we've heard it."

"Did you know I invented it?"

"Invented what?" said Croft.

"The slogan," said Tagan. "If you're poor, don't come to Grafton. My company invented the slogan, it's used in all our marketing pieces. Graftonites always think prices are too high and are always grumbling. We realized a marketing campaign was in order. So we came up with the slogan, 'If you're poor, don't come to Grafton'. Ingenious, isn't it?"

"Your slogan implies that Grafton is the home to the well-off elite who shouldn't mind paying higher prices," said Tane. "And if they do mind, then they're not in the elite."

"Precisely," said Tagan, beaming. "You have quite an analytical mind, Ms. Tane."

Tane smiled back.

"Your higher prices have nothing to do with the fact that you're a monopoly, does it?" Croft asked.

"Of course not!" Tagan assured him. "We use the most efficient monopoly market pricing models."

"I see," said Croft. "Still I'm surprised you don't have any competition at all, given the wide range of products and services you sell."

"We have a little competition here and there," said Tagan. "But most weren't able to withstand the rigors of competing against us." He didn't elaborate.

And Croft didn't see any reason to ask him to. He had a pretty good idea what had happened to the competition. Not that he cared. His mission wasn't to audit Tagan Industries, but to enlist Tagan's help in the fight against Quandry. They had had more than enough time for small talk, it was time to get to the point.

"I'm sure you've heard about Mo Quandry and his movement," said Croft.

"Yes, of course," said Tagan.

There was silence for a moment. Then, seeing that nothing more was forthcoming, Croft asked, "May I ask your feelings on the matter?"

"I support a peaceable solution to the dispute," said Tagan.

"That's a relief," said Croft. Perhaps Tagan could be an ally.

"I think the matter will be settled peacefully, once the other planets start shouldering their fair share."

"Fair share?"

"The security fees," said Tagan.

"You mean, the blackmail payments?" said Croft.

Tagan smiled. "I believe your government is publicly calling them 'economic assistance grants'. I think once the League starts paying its fair share, that the matter will be resolved."

"So... you think this is simply an economic dispute, and once Quandry gets his 'development grants', that everything will be settled?"

"Of course!" said Tagan. "Ambassador Toft, on Grafton, everything is about money. Once your League settles on a price with our people, I'm sure that amicable relations will resume."

"And it doesn't trouble you that these are essentially blackmail payments, backed up by threats to attack the League?"

"Mr. Toft, the language of politics really boils down to the language of business. One side needs something, and the other side offers a price," said Tagan.

Croft looked at him shrewdly. "Let me guess; Tagan Industries would get a share of the 'development grants' that the League would pay."

"And why should it not? We are the largest promoter of economic development on the planet. What's good for Tagan Industries is good for Grafton," said Tagan.

Croft winced. It sounded suspiciously like another slogan. But he pressed on. "But what if the League doesn't make a deal with Quandry? What if this spirals into a major war?" Croft asked.

"I'm sure that won't happen," said Tagan smoothly. "And now, my time is quite limited..."

Tagan immediately got up, and gestured to show Croft to the door. Obviously, the interview was over.

He led them outside his office.

********

Meanwhile, back in the spy car...

"There's a man waiting outside the building," said Samov, peering through the electrobinoculars.

"Who is it?" said Yuri, sitting on the groundcar.

"Looks like a Grafton killer," said Samov.

"They are all Grafton killers," said Yuri, reclining on the hood of the groundcar.

"Having fun?" said a new voice.

Samov snapped to alertness; Yuri, fumbling, fell off of the car. "Major! You did not announce you were coming-"

"And obviously anyone can simply walk up to your observation post without being noticed," said Major Nancy Kalikov of the Slurian Special Tasks Bureau. "What is your report?"

"They have been inside for nearly half an hour," said Yuri.

"They are coming out now," said Samov, still peering through the electrobinoculars.

"There is a Graftonite killer waiting for them," said Yuri. "I think we may have our Croft problem solved for us."

"If you think that, you're a bigger fool than I give you credit for," said the Major coldly. "Samov?"

"Croft sees the Graftonite. The Graftonite is standing there. Croft is approaching the man slowly...."

********

"Don't think you're going to get away this time with a crying fit," said the man pleasantly. There was no spectator crowd this time to help Croft; unlike the last time, there were no other Graftonites around, except for Burundi; and Burundi had made it clear he wouldn't lift a finger to help him.

Croft slowly approached the man, his hands carefully away from his blaster. This was not the same assailant he had faced the last time. "Do I know you?"

"I'm the man who's going to burn a hole in your head," said the man.

Croft took a few steps closer. His hands went slowly to the belt of his holster. He undid it and let it lose; his blaster, and his holster, slid to the ground. "Are you really going to shoot an unarmed man?"

"Yes," the man spat.

********

Meanwhile, from two blocks away...

"He's dropped his weapon," said Samov. "But I don't think that trick is going to work."

"I think we may finally see the end of that capitalist pest Clifford Croft," said Yuri happily.

The Major glared at him but said nothing

********

Croft took a few steps closer to the gunman.

"That's not necessary, I can hit you at any distance," said the killer.

Croft, now about ten feet away, stopped. Perfect.

"You're very confident, aren't you?" said Croft.

"Against you?" And by his tone nothing more needed to be said.

"So even if I had my blaster, you're confident that you could outdraw me, correct?"

"Correct," said the killer.

"But can you conceive of a circumstance where I could outdraw you?"

"No," said the killer, giving a slight chuckle.

"Sure you can," said Croft. "What if I shot you from behind, and you didn't even know I was there? Couldn't I kill you then?"

"Maybe," said the killer, wondering where this was going.

"So you admit, if I could take you by surprise, that I can outdraw you."

"You wouldn't be outdrawing me, you would be taking me by surprise, there's a difference," said the killer. "What's this all about? You're right here in front of me."

"I am, but...." said Croft, his eyes widening as he looked over the killer's shoulder.

The killer, almost more quickly than Croft could see, jerked his back and forward again like a blur. "Nice try," the killer sneered.

"I didn't try anything," said Croft. "I just wanted to establish that if I took you by surprise, I could outdraw you."

"Enough talk," the killer snarled.

Croft could see that the gunman was about to reach for his gun. Croft did nothing visibly, only tilting his right boot up slightly. But inside the boot his big toe was pressing down, hard.

There was a slight whistle in the air and the Grafton looked startled. He reached for his gun but his arm froze as he touched it. With a giant expression of surprise, he fell backwards on the ground. Croft looked down at the body. Looking carefully, he pulled a tiny needle from the man's leg. Getting down he whispered into the man's ear. "It's only temporary. But I am grateful that its effects are almost instantaneous. Next time, don't be so sure of yourself."

********

Two blocks away...

"What happened?" said Samov. "He just fell down."

"You underestimated him, again," Major Kalikov snapped.

Yuri raised a sniper rifle. "Let me kill him, Major.

The Major knocked the rifle away. "That will not get us the answers we need!"

"Then what will?"

"I will," said the Major. "I will get the answers from him. Then Clifford Croft can be eliminated."

********

"An unfair trick," said Burundi, curling his lip as he looked at the unconscious gunman.

"As unfair as a Graftonite taking on an unarmed man with slower reflexes," said Croft. He turned to Tane. "What next?"

"We have to meet with a senior Olympics official," said Tane.

"Fine, let's continue with this farce," said Croft dismissively.

Tane glared at him.

The Clapper clapped joyously.

********

"He escaped? Again?" said Quandry. He was incredulous.

"He had some kind of weapon in his boot. It was concealed," said Rocco.

"I am beginning to get the idea that this is not a typical sheep diplomat. Diplomats don't typically have needle guns in their boots."

"Agreed," said Rocco.

"So he's trying to stir up opposition against me?" said Quandry. "And he thought he was going to get anywhere with Tagan?"

"Apparently so."

"He's only an annoyance, but when I say I want someone dead, they'd better be dead," said Quandry. "Send someone else, send several someones, just get it done."

"Yes sir," said Rocco.

********

"Who cares about the Olympics?" said Croft, as they rode in the groundcar.

"Sheep," said Burundi dismissively, before Tane could answer.

"Sheep care about the Olympics?" said Croft, deliberately playing dumb.

"Only a sheep would fail to understand," said Burundi.

"Maybe you'll explain it then," said Croft.

"On most worlds the Olympics only celebrate sheep sports," said Burundi.

"And on Grafton...."

"We find out who the best marksmen are," said Burundi. "Our contests show who the best of the best are, in the only thing that matters."

"The only thing that matters being the ability to shoot a weapon," said Croft, interpreting.

Burundi nodded ever so slightly.

"There's more to it than that," said Tane. "It's also tied into the color war concept."

"Color war?" said Croft.

"Every two years Grafton has the Olympics, but every four years at the same time they also have color war."

"What, exactly, is a color war?" Croft asked. He ignored Burundi's pitying look.

"Every four years every resident of Grafton is divided into four teams-Blue, Purple, Green, and Yellow-"

"Orange," corrected Burundi. "No Graftonite would be caught dead in yellow."

"Orange," said Tane nervously. "Team leaders are selected from among the most respected members of society, and they select their senior staff based on established rules. Most of the general population is assigned to a team by random lottery."

"What then?"

"Then they fight," said Tane. "For the month leading up to the Olympics, everyone drops what they're doing, spend a week in training, and then a month fighting as an organized army to beat the other forces." She paused. "Of course, no one gets hurt, not usually. Blasters are set to stun."

"Why is this such a big event?" Croft asked.

"Proving yourself as a gunman, or gunwoman, is the most important thing for a Graftonite to do," said Tane. "This gives people a chance to prove themselves and test themselves repeatedly against their neighbors."

"So the entire planet simply drops what it's doing for a month?"

"Well, it's not mandatory, I don't think they get 100% participation, but most people do," said Tane.

"How does the planet run if everyone is off at play for a month?" Croft asked.

"Run?" said Tane.

"I forget, no government, no industry, except for monopoly incorporated," said Croft, referring to Tagan Industries. "So if we're supposed to be talking to 'non-state actors' we should probably be talking to a past or current leader of one of these color wars."

"You already have," said Tane.

"Eh?"

"According to my research, your friend the Silencer was the head of Blue Army; he even won two wars in a row," said Tane. "Didn't you know?"

"No," said Croft. But he wasn't surprised. The Silencer was not a big talker. He wondered why the Silencer participated in Color War; there must be some sort of payment involved.

They knew they were getting close to the Olympics practice grounds when they heard the sounds of weapons fire. They passed not one or several but dozens of different kinds of firing ranges, where Graftonites blazed away at incredible speeds. As they drove by Croft saw several objects fly into the air and one gunman, blasting away with five, precise shots, shoot them all down in little more than an instant.

At that moment he knew the reason behind peoples' fear of a "gold medalist".

********

Methlid Okuna was the current head of the Graftonite Olympics committee. He gave his visitors a broad smile as he welcomed them into his office.

"A rare treat! We seldom get off-worlders here," said Okuna, still smiling broadly as he gestured for them to sit. There was a window built in behind him that showed a broad view of a stadium where various gunmen were practicing.

"Are off-worlders forbidden to compete in your Olympics?" Croft asked.

Okuna looked puzzled. "Of course not! They just know that it's futile to do so. An off-worlder could never compete with a Graftonite, of course."

"Of course," said Croft.

"Mind you, there are always exceptions. We do attract some of the best gunmen in the world for our Junior League Olympics."

"Junior League?"

"For lads 15 years and under. Some of the off-worlders occasionally provide reasonable competition."

"You let off-world children compete against your children?" Croft asked.

"No, that would hardly be fair, would it?" said Okuna. "We let off-world adults compete against our children. We waive the age requirement for off-worlders for obvious reasons."

"Obvious reasons," Croft repeated dully.

"They provide good competition for our children," said Okuna. "They seldom win, of course."

"Of course," said Croft. "But if all your events are shooting, how many can there be?"

"We have over 50 sporting events," said Okuna. "We have trick shooting, distance shooting, precision shooting, the triathalon-"

"Triathalon?" said Croft.

"Blaster, blaster rifle, and blaster cannon," said Okuna. "We also have gunnastics-"

"You mean gymnastics, don't you?" said Croft.

Okuna glared at him. "Gunnastics. It's mostly a women's sport. While twirling around on elevated bars or in midair, they have to shoot moving targets."

"Interesting," said Croft.

"What else, let me see... in the winter there's downhill skiing shooting, figure skating shooting-"

"Figure skating shooting?"

"Elegant skating while shooting targets," said Okuna. "Participants get judged on form as well as accuracy." He paused. "We also have team sports, such as military soccer, and more traditional ones, such as the 200 meter sprint-"

"A running race?" said Croft. "Let me guess, the racers have to shoot targets as they run."

"That's ridiculous," said Okuna. "The contestants have to shoot the racers. Stun shots, of course."

"Of course," said Croft.

Okuna stared at Croft, wondering if he was being sarcastic. "Let's get down to business. What brings you here?"

"We're very concerned about Mo Quandry and his supporters," said Croft. "We're trying to... sound out prominent members of society to find out what level of support he has."

"Quandry. Oh," said Okuna. Abruptly his expression changed. "If you're asking whether I'm a big fan of Quandry, the answer is no."

"No?"

"He has no honor," said Okuna. "Five years ago he was a senior official in the Orange Army-that's our color war, you understand."

"So I've heard."

"Well, let's just say he engaged in a series of... questionable maneuvers that nearly got him ejected from the war."

"What kind of questionable maneuvers are we talking about?" Croft asked.

"That's not important," said Okuna. "Some folk-not me, you understand, but some-say that he cheated. Of course, to make a public accusation of cheating-"

"Can open you up to a double barreled lawsuit, I understand," said Croft. "But if Quandry has a reputation for being a cheater, why does he have such a following?"

Okuna made a dismissive sound. "I don't think he does. Oh, a certain percentage of the population may sympathize with his goals, but his hard base of support can't be more than one or two percent of the population."

"One or two percent, that doesn't sound so bad," said Croft.

Okuna stared at Croft. "There are 8 million of us, Mr. Toft. Two percent is 160,000. Do you have any idea what 160,000 Graftonites can do to the League?"

"Do you think he's going to attack the League?" said Croft.

"It's not my job to speculate," said Okuna carefully.

"If you convened a Peaceful Debate, spoke out against him, you-"

"If I spoke out against him, that wouldn't be very polite," said Okuna.

"He would kill you?"

"Or have one of his men do it," said Okuna.

"That wouldn't be very polite either," said Croft.

"No, it wouldn't." Okuna gave a small smile.

"If he represents such a small percentage of the population, why does he have everyone scared?" said Croft.

Okuna sat up, looking angry. His hand dropped down behind the desk. His voice cold, he said, "Are you calling me a coward?"

"No! No, of course not," said Croft soothingly. "It just seems that... well.. people don't want to publicly criticize him."

Okuna nodded, and eased back in his chair. "You have to understand that he has gold medalists working for him. And even if people don't like him, they're not going to stand up unless they're involved. And whatever he's doing, it doesn't involve most of us."

"But if he plunges Grafton into an interplanetary war-"

"He can't plunge Grafton into anything. He doesn't represent the government because we have no government," said Okuna.

"Don't you think if he attacks the League that the response may spill over and affect your fellow Graftonites?"

Okuna shrugged. "I'll deal with that when I see it happen. But I'm not going to get involved when there's no direct danger to me or my interests--nor, do I suspect, will anyone else."

Croft nodded slowly, getting up. "Do you mind if we walk around the grounds a bit?"

"Not at all," said Okuna. He gave them a phony smile and eagerly showed them to the door.

When they got outside Tane said, "Well, it looks like he won't help us either."

"Are you really surprised?" said Burundi.

They walked to a nearby target range where Graftonites were blasting away. Croft didn't say anything for a while, as he thought of what to do. He watched Graftonites decimating paper targets. If only brute force could solve their problems.

"Let's get back to the groundcar," said Croft. "I want to get back to our quarter to check, ah, things." He didn't want to mention the listening devices he had placed in Quandry's ranch in front of Burundi.

But as they turned to go, they heard a voice say, "Just a moment."

They turned to see a few Graftonites staring at them, guns in hand. One of them beckoned for them to come forward. Croft, seeing little choice, slowly did.

"You're off-worlders, aren't you?" said one of them.

Croft nodded.

"See, I told you so," their leader said, grinning to his companions. "We were wondering if you could help us out."

"Help? How?" Croft asked.

"Hold this in your open hand," said the leader. He dropped a bucket of apples on the ground in front of Croft, and reached in and handed Croft an apple.

Then he took a few steps back.

"Why do I get a bad feeling about this?" said Croft.

The leader stepped back farther and raised his blaster. "Now stand very still!"

He squeezed the trigger. Croft, cringing, saw a beam of light, and felt heat in his hand. When he looked at his hand he saw the cindered remains of the apple. The blaster wasn't set on stun.

"Now pick up another apple."

Croft reluctantly complied, holding it as far as possible from his body.

One of the Graftonite's companions aimed carefully, and squeezed the trigger. The blaster flared out, incinerating the apple, as well as singing Croft's index finger.

"Oh!" said Croft, grabbing his finger.

"Sorry," said the Graftonite, laughing. "You shouldn't have moved."

"I didn't," said Croft, nursing his burn.

"Now pick up another apple, and put it on your head," said the leader.

Croft did nothing.

"Do it!" said the leader, raising his blaster.

Croft, seeing no choice, picked up the apple, and thought about his options. He didn't have many. He looked at the Clapper. There was no way the Clapper could use his power to distract so many Graftonites.

"Now put it on your head!" said the leader. "Do it!" He aimed his blaster for effect.

Was this Graftonite one of the killers sent after him? Or was he just trying to have fun at Croft's expense? He had no way of knowing, but he had to know, because a mistake would be fatal.

Croft was still paralyzed, trying to figure out whether the leader would really shoot him if he didn't comply, when a new voice said, "What's going on here?"

They turned to see another tall, dark haired Grafton standing there. He looked grim.

"I said, what's going on here?" the man said. Frowning, he said, "Don't make me ask again."

"We were just doing some target practice," said the leader, his tone markedly different now.

"With fully charged blasters? On real people?" said the man. A man who Croft thought he recognized.

"He's only a sheep. We wouldn't have hurt him," said the leader.

The newcomer just stared at him coldly.

Gulping, the leader said to his friends, "Come on, guys," and headed off.

The newcomer slowly approached Croft. "Why is it every time I see you, you're always getting shot at?"

As he came closer Croft recognized him.

It was Traker Fields.

Graftonites were killers, and they were bounty hunters, but they took on many other professions as well, and one of those were serving as mercenaries, operating in small teams. There were individual mercenary units that had legendary reputations throughout populated space. And the leader of one of the most famous units was standing before Croft. His name was Traker Fields.

Croft had met Traker Fields before, but usually in combat situations. Their paths had crossed before, but never on Grafton. Like most Graftonites, Traker was neither allied with or against the League, but Croft had found him to be an honorable man.

Croft extended his hand. "Usually when we meet you're the one getting shot at."

Traker took his hand, shaking it. "I seem to recall a fair share of hostile fire aimed at you." He gave a small smile. "What brings you to Grafton? No, let me guess, you're here about Quandry."

Croft nodded.

"Well, you can have him," said Traker. "If you shot a hole in his ugly head I wouldn't shed a tear."

"You don't care for him?"

"He's a cheater, a liar, and a dishonorable Graftonite. We'd be better off without him," said Traker.

"That's bold words, on a planet where free speech can be fatal," said Croft.

"So what?" said Traker.

"Aren't you worried that your opinions will get back to Quandry?"

"No," said Fields coldly.

"And what of your fellow mercenaries? Are they also against him?" said Croft, getting the first glimmers of an idea.

"Quite the opposite!" said Traker. "I'm just about the only mercenary who's not on his side."

"Why?"

"Who do you think led off on the invasion of Grafton IV? Hired mercenaries, of course. Most of us are hoping that a wider war will break out; it will give us more work."

"But you already have work."

"Mo pays better. He gives us a generous share of the spoils," said Traker.

"Us...?"

"Not me," said Traker impatiently. "I'm basically out of it."

"Out of it?"

"I'm taking a vacation from the profession," said Traker. "I'm trying to get in shape to compete in the next Olympics."

"What areas?"

"Maybe the triathalon, or precision shooting," said Traker. "Say, the word has been going around that Quandry has put a hit out on some nosy off-worlder. That wouldn't be you, would it?"

"Anything's possible," said Croft.

"You'd better be careful. Is this your bodyguard?" he said, indicating Burundi.

Burundi gave a bitter laugh.

Croft shook his head. "He's just along for comic relief."

Burundi glared at Croft but, after a quick glance at Traker, decided not to react.

"Still, you'd better watch your step," said Traker, turning to go.

"Maybe you can help us," said Croft. "We're looking for people to speak out against Quandry."

"Speak out against him? Why would I do that?" Traker asked.

"He may plunge all of Grafton into war," said Croft.

"Hm...." said Traker.

"Hmm... what? What does that mean?" said Croft.

"I'm trying to decide if that's good or bad," said Traker. "A good war might shake people up. They're getting pretty complacent lately, even for Graftonites."

Croft sighed. "It's been great talking to you, Traker."

"Try to stay out of trouble, Croft."

For once there wasn't an assassin waiting for them as they returned to the groundcar. Croft said nothing for much of the journey back. Once they reached their rented quarters, Tane asked, "What are we going to do?"

"I'm going back to my room to think," said Croft. "I want to spend a few solitary hours without being shot at or threatened, and then I want a good night's sleep. We'll talk further in the morning."

Without saying another word he entered his room and closed the door behind him. As he turned around to walk further into the room, a woman stepped out of the shadows, a blaster pointed straight at Croft's chest. "I've come to kill you, Clifford Croft."