Attack of the Bounty Hunters Ch. 11b

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

"So now we know their secret, we can deter future invasions simply by putting increased security around our political and military leaders," said the holographic image of the Chief. Her image flickered slightly as the descrambler worked to keep up with the decoding of the constantly remodulating transmission.

"It won't be that easy," said Croft. "Remember, it's Graftonites we're talking about. But if you put your Presidents and Generals in a room with a hundred guys with guns, yeah, I think that will effectively put their invasion plans out of business."

"What about the planets they have invaded?" said the Chief. "Five, by our current count, four of which are League planets."

"I guess we don't care about Grafton IV because it's not in the League," said Croft, with more than a bit of sarcasm.

"Croft!"

"We can send in the troops," said a new voice. It was the Chief of Staff himself, who like other senior officials was involved in this holomeeting. "Now that we know what to expect, we can protect the troops we send in."

"It won't be quite that easy," said Croft. "From what I've learned, you're not just facing a few hundred Graftonites on each planet; I think they've hired non-Grafton mercenaries to shore up their ranks."

"Nothing can match the might of the League armed forces."

"I'm sure," said Croft, unconsciously falling back into liespeak. "Mr. Chief of Staff, if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted and need some rest. If everything is well in hand...?"

"Of course," said the Chief of Staff. "Good work, Mr. Croft. Your name will figure favorably in my report to the League President."

"Thank you, sir," said Croft.

The holographic link faded.

The Battle Admiral turned to Croft. "Of course, it's not going to be that easy."

"Of course not," said Croft.

And it wasn't.

The League sent in troops to try and liberate its four planets, but the mercenary and Graftonite forces resisted bitterly. Losses mounted on all sides. The League had an enormous population advantage over the Graftonites and their allies, but with advances in technology the League had shifted to a smaller, more professional force; that was why a planet like Greenfields, with millions of citizens, had an active armed forces of only 40,000.

Still, the League armed forces vastly outnumbered the Graftonites; but there was a limit as to how many could be transported to a planet at any given time. All this meant that the League could wage war, but victory would be slow, and bloody.

Two weeks later the League had beachheads it was slowly expanding on two of the four planets; but the Graftonites responded by reinforcing their garrison of non-Graftonite mercenaries.

"Where are they getting the resources to hire thousands of mercenaries?" the Battle Admiral asked.

It was a good question; Croft wondered that too. He went back to his quarters to review the datapads he had collected from various Graftonites during his expeditions to Greenfields. He had noticed something before that had briefly caught his attention; now he returned to it.

In a few minutes he was convinced he had found something of importance. He got Levi on the comm. For once Levi was actually at work in his lab.

"You have my meat recipes?" said Levi eagerly.

"Sorry, Levi, I've been busy with this little invasion thing," said Croft.

"You always make excuse."

"I need your help, Levi," said Croft.

"You always ask for help," Levi grumbled.

"Levi, I promise, if you help me just one more time, I will get you your Graftonite meat recipes." Croft knew how to handle Levi.

"Promise?" Levi peered out at him as if measuring his reliability.

"Have I ever lied?" Croft asked. "To you?" he quickly amended.

Levi looked skeptically at him.

"Recently?"

"What is it you want?" Levi sighed.

"I've been reviewing the datapads of some of the Graftonites I encountered," said Croft. "The Graftonites were all paid from off-planet accounts."

"Off which planet?" Levi asked.

"Off of Graftonite," Croft said.

"So?"

"So their leader, Mo Quandry, is a Graftonite. Why would he pay them from off-planet accounts?"

"Maybe he get better rate of return with off-planet account," Levi shrugged.

"Levi, you're a genius but you don't understand the Grafton mind," said Croft. "Graftonites trust non-Graftonites about as far as they can throw them. There's no way a Graftonite like Quandry is going to keep his money off-planet unless...."

"Unless someone else is supplying the money."

Croft transmitted some data. "I want to find out who, Levi."

Levi opened his mouth.

"As soon as possible," said Croft.

Levi tried to speak.

"Today, Levi," said Croft

"All right," said Levi. "But you owe me recipes."

"How can I forget?" said Croft.

It didn't take a day; indeed, with Levi's computer skills, it only took two hours, after which he immediately reported to Croft. And then two hours and ten minutes later, Croft established a holocontact with the Chief.

"The Chief is unavailable, Mr. Croft," said a functionary.

"Tell her it's important," said Croft.

"I don't think that will have any effect."

"Then tell her Clifford Croft says it's important."

The functionary sighed and left the screen. When he returned he said, "She'll see you. But she's not happy."

"Who is, in these troubling times?"

The Chief appeared on the holo, looking drowsy. "Do you have any idea what time it is here, Mr. Croft?"

"No, and I don't really care," said Croft. "Listen, I have an important piece of information for you."

"Speak."

And when he did, her eyes widened.

When he was done, Croft said, "Worth waking you up for?"

"An acceptable judgment call, this time," said the Chief. "Just don't make a habit of it." She paused. "Investigate, and get back to me."

"Croft out," said Croft. He terminated the connection. He wondered whether he should take the Clapper and Red Sally with him. No, he wouldn't need them. Not for this. They would whine, of course. Maybe he could slip away without telling them.

********

"This meeting of the Whenfor division of the Claritan Corporation will come to order." The voice was that of the Claritan Corporation's Whenfor Division President, Kenson Manding, who was sitting at the head of the board room surrounded by senior executives.

The Claritan Corporation was the largest multiplanetary corporation in the galaxy. It sold almost every variety of product. There wasn't an industry that the Claritan corporation wasn't involved in, not a planet where it didn't have some sort of corporate presence. The Claritan Corporation had only one agenda, and that was to make money. Lots of it. Unfortunately, that often meant squeezing the competition or the consumer. And sometimes the Claritan Corporation did some not so nice things in the process.

"Marketing, report," said Manding.

"We've done a special push on our new five ounce action pack flavor juice," said Marketing. "But we're still getting flack from the government that we call it 'juice' when we don't have the requisite 2% of real juice in the mix."

Manding sighed. "We've been over this before. Can't we find some cheap crap to squeeze into the juice? Isn't there something inexpensive we can use? Lemons? Mutated oranges?"

"Too expensive," said another corporate officer.

"We must have something," said Manding.

"We have found a juicy moss on one of the recently discovered planets that might fit the bill," said the logistics VP. "The moss is plentiful and cheap to collect."

"What does this moss taste like?" Manding asked.

"A little like furniture polish," said the logistics VP. "But we can add more flavoring to cover that."

"Wait a minute," said Manding. "Moss isn't a fruit."

"I think I can reach the right person in the government to get it classified as such," said the governmental affairs VP.

"Good thinking," said Manding. "Problem solved. Next?"

"We're still getting complaints about the ground cars we manufacture with the faulty accelerators," said another VP.

"Faulty accelerators?" said Manding.

"Remember, we saved money by using those Slurian components... in one out of ten cars, they sometimes cause uncontrollable acceleration when one presses on-"

"I remember now," said Manding. He turned to the Legal VP. "You should have the solution."

"I should?"

Manding sighed. Had seven years of law school been wasted on him? "Include a disclaimer on new cars saying that there can be acceleration problems. If they're aware of the problem, we're not responsible."

"What about existing cars we've already sold?"

Manding rolled his eyes and considered. "Tell owners to bring them to their dealerships. Put the cars in the back for the day and then return them, and tell them the problem is fixed."

"Begging your pardon sir, that won't fix anything."

"But it will postpone the problem," said Manding. "What's next?"

Suddenly, the door burst open and none other than Clifford Croft stepped in.

"I told him he couldn't go in, sir," said a functionary, following him in.

"Shut up and sit down," said Croft, pulling a blaster.

The functionary yiped and quickly took a seat.

"Everyone put your arms on the table. If I see anyone reaching for your hidden panic buttons, I'll shoot the offending finger," said Croft.

The officers complied. Manding smiled. "You seem familiar with our standard procedures. Do we know you?" He was calm. It would only be a matter of time before security or some other assistant checked up on him. In the interim, he would stall for time.

"I know you," said Croft. "I've had interactions with your company before."

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"The name is Clifford Croft," said Croft.

Manding looked puzzled. "Croft... Croft.... That name sounds familiar. Were you the one who interfered with our-"

"Probably," said Croft. "But that's not why I'm here. I have a certain objection to one of your corporate operations."

"If you have a problem you should talk with our customer complaint hotlines," said Manding.

"I've decided to speak directly to the supervisor," said Croft grimly. "Now, what are you doing with the Graftonites?"

"Graftonites?" said Manding. "What Graftonites?"

Croft shot a fist-sized hole in the desk next to Manding. "If you lie to me again, my aim will only improve."

Manding gulped.

"Now, I know you've been making payments to Mo Quandry's little army. The question is, why," said Croft. "You already operate on many of the planets that were attacked. What do you get out of it?"

Manding looked nervous.

"Now would be a good time to answer," said Croft, taking aim with the blaster.

"We get... certain concessions," said Manding.

"Can you be more specific?" said Croft.

"We have... contracts for administration," said Manding.

"To administer?" said Croft. "To administer what?"

"The planets."

"The planets?" said Croft. Suddenly, it made sense. The Graftonites weren't interested in administration; only action. So they hired the Claritan Corporation to manage the captured planets for them. By totally controlling a planet's economy, the Claritan corporation could make a thousand times whatever revenue they had been previously making in their various industries. They could tax competitors at any rate--indeed, they could even shut down competitors and build monopolies! The possibilities were almost endless.

"And let me guess--you pay for the invasion up front, and in return you get to keep all the goodies once you start 'administering'," said Croft. "Maybe you pay the Graftonites a percentage off the top."

"Something like that," said Manding faintly.

"Doesn't it bother you that you're helping a dictatorship take over the galaxy?" said Croft. "Haven't you ever considered that they could one day turn against you?"

"It seemed like a good deal at the time," said Manding lamely.

"I see," said Croft. His mind was racing. This could blow things wide open. But he needed proof. "All right, where is it?"

"It?"

"The contract," said Croft. "The contract between you and Quandry."

"There is no contract," said Manding.

Croft fired again, blowing off the right armrest on Manding's chair. Manding grabbed his arm, which had felt the edge of the blaster effect.

"There is no contract!" Manding repeated. "No contract here!"

"What do you mean?" said Croft.

"Do you really think a deal of this magnitude could be negotiated by a branch office?" said Manding. "It's all done through the home office. All of it!"

Croft considered. He raised his blaster. "If you're lying...."

"I'm not!" said Manding earnestly.

"All right," said Croft. "I guess I have to pay a visit to your home office. Can I rely on your discretion not to warn them in advance?"

"Of course," said Manding.

"And your associates here?" Croft asked.

"Yes, them too," said Manding, trying to sound reassuring.

"Good," said Croft. He turned to the stunned board members. "Please, don't let me interrupt you any further. Feel free to go about your business."

He turned and left.

Manding immediately called security.

But by the time they got there, Croft had disappeared from the building.

********

Roger Balit, President of the Claritan Corporation, sat in his office reading the daily datastream when he heard a knock at the door. He didn't even look up as Zilcho Tun, his executive aide, entered the office.

"I'm still reading the daily report," said Balit. "What is it?"

"It's Quandry," said Tun. "He wants money."

"Quandry always wants money," said Balit, continuing to read the daily report.

"He says that under the contract he's entitled to another twenty million credits now," said Tun.

Balit looked at Tun, who seemed to wince slightly when stared at. "On what grounds?" Balit asked, turning back to his morning report.

"Paragraph 7(k) of the contract," said Tun.

"7(k)," said Balit, frowning. "7(k)? There is no 7(k)."

"Perhaps we should examine the contract, just to be sure," said Tun.

"All right, I'll get it out of the safe, in a minute," said Balit. He rapidly scanned the rest of the daily report. As he scrolled down the page he stopped, and then scrolled up. Reading closely, he said, "When were you going to tell me about Croft?"

"Sir?"

"It says here that corp intel indicates that Column agent Clifford Croft is on his way here," said Balit. "Don't you think that's just a little more important than Quandry blathering about another payment?"

"Sir, I'm already on top of it," said Tun. "I've increased security all around the building."

"The lobby?"

"Yes."

"The roof?"

"Yes."

"The exterior walls?"

"Yes," said Tun. "And I've doubled the guard around and inside the building. Trust me, sir, no unauthorized person can get in."

"I hope you're right," said Balit. "I've heard of this Croft. He's a Column Eight agent, one of their top infiltrators."

"I'm sure his reputation is inflated," said Tun.

"Never underestimate your enemy," said Balit. He sighed. "All right, where were we?"

"The contract."

"All right," said Balit. He got up, went to a wall, and slid a picture aside, revealing a safe with a keypad combination. He turned to Tun. "You know, just in case, I think it would be better if we had a few security guards here when I opened this up. I could easily see this Croft character lurking around somewhere waiting for us to open the safe."

Tun said nothing.

"Call security and have them send two men."

Tun did nothing.

"Didn't you hear me?" said Balit.

"I heard you," said Tun, drawing a hidden blaster.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly, it became clear. "You, Tun? A traitor? How did they get to you?" said Balit.

"No one got to me," said Tun.

Balit looked confident. "Put down the gun," he said, taking a step forward.

"If you take another step in my direction there will be a nice view between your ears," said Tun.

Balit stopped, and frowned. "You won't get out of here alive."

"You're probably right," said Tun. "But I will."

"What are you saying?"

"I said, you're right, that Tun has no chance to get out alive. But I won't find it particularly challenging."

Still keeping the blaster on Balit, Tun carefully removed his plastiform mask.

"Croft," said Balit, his eyes widening.

"Tun decided to sleep in and take a sick day today," said Croft. "He'll wake up in a few hours with no ill effects. I can't say the same for you, however, if you don't open that safe."

Balit said coldly, "You'll never get out alive. We'll do a special shareholder resolution on you, Croft."

"Right now I'd be more worried about my blaster giving you an impromptu audit between the ribcage," said Croft. He shoved the blaster into Balit's side. "Well?"

Balit said, "Even if I open the safe, you won't be helped by seeing the contract."

"Then you should have no objection to giving it to me," said Croft. He pointed his blaster more firmly into Balit's side, to further emphasize the corporate executive's fragile mortality. "Decide."

Without a further word Balit opened the safe. Croft had him move back and reached in and removed a group of datapads.

"Only one of them is the contract, you shouldn't need the rest," said Balit.

"But it's always fun to have something to read on my trip home," said Croft. "And now I must take my leave of you. I'm afraid I'm going to have to stun you so I can make my getaway."

"You've made a powerful enemy today, Croft," said Balit.

Croft shrugged. "You'll have to stand in line." He shot Balit, who fell to the ground.

When Balit returned to consciousness, Croft was long gone. A very apologetic Tun attended to him.

"I'm so sorry sir he took me by surprise-"

"Shut up," said Balit.

"But the contract, sir, what do we do-"

"We do nothing," said Balit.

"Nothing?" said Tun.

"Nothing," said Balit. "It's a minor embarrassment, at worst. But there shouldn't be any harm done."

"No harm? But what will happen when the Graftonites learn of our deal with Quandry?"

Balit shook his head. "It won't change a thing." He changed the subject. "But a subject that does concern me is building security. An intruder managed to get both inside and out of the building. Where was our chief of security during this time-"

"Ah, he was-"

"Terminate his employment contract," said Balit. "Immediately."

"Ah, yes sir. But what do we do with-"

"His body? Leave it in the main security office for a few days. As a reminder to those who fail me," said Balit.

********

Even before Croft had returned to August, the information he discovered had been relayed to the Chief; it was only a matter of hours after that that the information was rebroadcasted to Grafton, on every communication frequency. In a matter of minutes, the news was out.

The Claritan Corporation was bankrolling the invasions. A holocopy of the contract showed that in return for certain concessions on the conquered planets, the Claritan Corporation would pay a large sum to Quandry and his soldiers.

The news hit Grafton quickly. This should be the beginning of the end of Quandry, or so Croft thought.

But only a non-Graftonite was surprised by the response the news got.

Quandry didn't bother to deny the contract. In fact, he acknowledged it. Furthermore, he was lauded by the other Graftonites, who considered it a good business deal.

As Quandry himself put it in one of his broadcasts, "Yes, I got the sheep to finance the invasion of their own planets, and arranged for a hefty payment for all of us! What could be wrong with that?"

Apparently, none of the Graftonites thought there was anything wrong with that. It was, after all, all about money.

********

"So what do we do now?" said the holographic image of the Chief.

Croft, sitting in his transport, shrugged.

"You are not paid to shrug, Mr. Croft," said the Chief. She obviously was not happy.

"I don't have an answer at the moment," said Croft.

"You spent so much time researching the culture on Grafton," said the Chief. "Didn't that give you any insight?"

"Not really," said Croft. But even as he said it he knew it wasn't true. Actually, something he had heard in one of the interviews seemed to percolate in his mind, as a half-finished thought. If he could only figure out what it was....

"I have an idea," said Tane.

"Yes?"

"The Graftonite reflexes are at their peak when they are on Grafton," said Tane. "But when they leave Grafton, they gradually lose their effectiveness."

"That's true, but that takes years," said Croft.

"Well, someone is going to have to occupy those planets," said Tane. "We can play on that fear."

"How?" Croft asked.

"By broadcasting propaganda into Grafton," Tane said. "Tell people that if they invade other planets, they'll slowly lose their reflexes and become no better than what they call sheep," said Tane.

"It might work," said the Chief slowly.

"And it might not," said Croft.

"Let me clear this with the Chief of Staff," said the Chief.

"Of course," said Tane deferentially.

"Of course," Croft parroted.

********

A few days later the first transmissions began.

"Why risk your life off-planet? All you'll succeed in doing is lose your edge. Each day you spend off Grafton degrades your reflexes. Imagine what your reflexes will be like in a year, or two years? You'll be no better than the sheep!"

Transmissions like that were blanketing the Grafton airwaves for several days.

It didn't take long to judge the response, from the monitoring of the domestic Graftonite networks.

Much of the response was simply laughter. By hiring non-Graftonite mercenaries to keep the order, and the Claritan Corporation to manage the economy, only a handful of Graftonites need remain on their conquered planets, and even they could be rotated off-planet at regular intervals.

It was obvious, in just a few days, that this propaganda blitz had failed.

********

"So it didn't work," said the holo of the Chief.

"That's correct," said Croft. Sometimes he admired her insightful analysis.

"Any other suggestions, Ms. Tane?" said the Chief, and her voice had an edge to it that was usually reserved for Croft. He found himself oddly pleased by that.

Croft casually turned his gaze to Tane.

"I... I...," Tane stammered. Then, "I'm sorry, Chief."

"This is simply perfect," said the Chief. "I have a meeting with the Chief of Staff in thirty minutes. What am I going to say?"

"Not very much, apparently," said Croft absentmindedly. But his mind wasn't really focused on the conversation. He was thinking of something else. The fighting. The fighting was the key. Or rather, the culture of fighting. But how could that be used in their favor?

The Chief glared at him. "Mr. Croft, this is not the day for your lame attempts at humor. I'm warning you, I'm running out of patience. Normally, I can tolerate your kind of foolishness, but given the enormous pressure, you're pushing me over the limit-"

"Of course!" said Croft, sitting upright.

"What?" said the Chief.

"Why didn't I think of it earlier?" said Croft.

"What?" said the Chief.

"You gave me the final piece of the puzzle!" said Croft.

"I did?" said the Chief.

"We all know what a kind, loving, sweet nature you normally have," said Croft. "But circumstances have driven you to a short fuse. You yourself just said so."

"I fail to see-"

"It's the same with the Graftonites. They're normally a sensitive bunch of bounty hunters and guns for hire," said Croft. "What turns them into an interplanetary army bent on conquering the galaxy?"

"It's Quandry. He's stirred them up," said the Chief.

"Let's be specific. He's stirred them up with that sham story of the executed bounty hunter," said Croft.

"So?"

"So why can't we do the same thing, in reverse?" Croft said.

"I fail to follow," said the Chief. She looked really confused.

Croft sighed. "Why don't we stage our own incident, showing a Grafton bounty hunter executing an employer, and broadcast it?"

"How will broadcasting that incident to the Grafton population help us?" The Chief asked.

"No, I understand now," said Tane, realization dawning on her face. "We don't broadcast it to the Graftonites, but to everyone else. To all the other planets that hire Graftonites."

"That means-"

"People will stop hiring Graftonites," said Croft. "Already this invasion has put somewhat of a chill on new hires, I imagine. But if we show a Graftonite executing an employer, that will really put a stop to things."

"I think I see," said the Chief. "Once Graftonites stop being hired for off-planet work-"

"You'll have a base of dissatisfied people, who will put pressure on Quandry to stop," said Croft.

"Really quite ingenious," said the Chief. "If it works, that is. What is it you need, Mr. Croft?"

"Merely the offices of a holoproduction facility," said Croft.

********

It took a week of work before it was ready. When it was broadcast, it hit the League worlds with the impact of a D-34 ship killer missile.

The following holonews broadcast was typical: "-and security cams actually caught the murder as it happened."

The image shifted to a bounty hunter facing his employer. The positioning of the camera prevented the audience from seeing the Graftonite's face.

"I'm here for my payment," said the Graftonite coldly.

"You've already been paid," said the employer.

"This?" the Graftonite laughed, holding up a stack of currency.

"That was the agreed upon amount."

"I'm changing the agreement," said the Grafton.

"What do you want?" said the employer.

"Everything," said the Grafton. "I want you to sign over your entire account to me."

"All of it?" said the employer. "Are you out of your mind?"

The Grafton gave the employer a small push. "It's going to be ours soon enough anyway."

"What... what do you mean?"

"If I don't get it, our people will when they take over your planet. So you see, it's better to give it to someone you know," said the Grafton. His tone hardened. "Now get on that terminal and start typing."

The employer, looking very nervous, nodded and moved slowly to the desk. But as he sat down he pressed something under the desk. An alarm clanged.

"Not smart," said the Grafton. He fired his weapon, blowing the man's head off.

"Did you have to make it so graphic?" Tane asked.

"Yes," said Croft. "People aren't going to stop hiring Graftonites if all they have to fear is a little flesh wound."

"It looked very convincing," said Tane. "Did you use experienced actors?"

"There were no actors," said Croft. "There were no rooms, either. It was all virtual."

"Well, I hope it works," said Tane.

"We'll see," said Croft.

********

Two weeks later Croft was back on Grafton. He would have liked to come back sooner, but Croft couldn't make his plan work more quickly than this. When he showed up at the Silencer's ranch, he was unsurprised to find that the Silencer was in.

"You again," the Silencer growled.

"Don't mind John," said Annie. "He's just in a bad mood."

"It's that idiot bounty hunter who killed his boss," said the Silencer. "It's causing all the bounty hunting work to dry up. Everyone's afraid to hire Graftonites."

"That's a shame," said Croft. He tried to sound as sincere as possible.

The Silencer looked sharply at Croft for any sign of irony or sarcasm.

"Of course, the bounty hunter isn't entirely to blame," said Croft. "I imagine if Quandry weren't invading planets left and right that people wouldn't feel so threatened."

"That may be," said the Silencer. "But there's not much I can do about that."

"Actually, there is," said Croft.

"Don't start again," said the Silencer. "I'm no politician."

"No, you're just one of the most respected men on Grafton," said Croft. The Silencer started to reply but for once Croft was faster. "I'm not asking you to do anything for me, Silencer. Do it for yourself."

The Silencer paused. "What do you expect me to do?"

"Hold a Peaceful Debate. Tell people that these invasions are causing business to dry up," said Croft earnestly.

"They'll never listen," said the Silencer, apparently rejecting the idea out of hand.

"You won't know until you try," said Croft, on a cautiously positive note.

The Silencer sighed, looking away for a moment. Then he looked up at Annie, who had been silent all the while. She nodded slightly.

"All right," the Silencer growled. "But I still think it's a dumb idea."

********

"What is it?" said Quandry, not even bothering to look up as Rocco entered his office.

"Trouble, boss," said Rocco.

Quandry looked up and glared at Rocco. "Can you be any more specific?"

"The Silencer is holding a Peaceful Debate to turn people against the invasions."

"The Silencer?" said Quandry, frowning.

"He has known links to the sheep on August," said Rocco.

"The Silencer is a mercenary like everyone else; he works for pay," said Quandry. "Do you think he's being paid for this?"

"I don't know," said Rocco. He paused a moment. When Quandry didn't say anything, he said, "What do you want to do?"

"I'm thinking," said Quandry, weighing the alternatives. Then, finally, he said, "I want him taken care of."

"The Silencer?" Rocco sounded incredulous.

"Do it," said Quandry, returning to his data screens.

********

The Peaceful Debate was held in a local sports arena. And to top it off, Annie, with a little prompting from Croft, had arranged for the event to be broadcast on all available comm networks.

"Do you think we'll have any trouble?" said Croft, nervously watching the crowd gather. Several hundred people had already showed up, and more were at the gate. The Silencer could really draw them in!

"Trouble?" the Silencer asked.

"From Quandry's people."

Croft eyed the crowd nervously. One shot from a long distance sniper rifle could take the Silencer out.

The Silencer made a derisive noise. "Let them be dumb enough to try." He turned to Croft. "You'd better stay out of sight."

Croft nodded.

When the crowd had entered and taken their seats, the Silencer strode out onto the platform at the center of the stadium. There was suddenly a spontaneous applause in the bleachers. The Silencer acknowledged it calmly, even as it lasted for more than a minute. Many of the people here were his fans.

"Thank you," he finally said, which was an uncharacteristic phrase, for him. He paused and then continued, speaking into his throat comm. "I'm a man of few words, so let me get to the point. These invasions are cutting into our revenue-"

He read the speech, much as Croft had written it for him. When he was done, the crowd was silent. The Silencer stared at the audience, looking a bit irritated. "Well? What do you think?"

The silence didn't last more than a second. There were a babble of voices all around.

Some people were clearly against the invasions, and wanted them to stop. But others felt that it was irrelevant what the "sheep" thought, and that if money from bounty hunting dried up, there would still be more money to be made from the invasions. The debate raged back and forth for nearly two hours, with the Silencer saying little. Finally, at the end, the meeting broke up without agreement.

"Well, we tried," said the Silencer philosophically, when they had returned to the ranch.

"That's it?" said Croft. "That's all you have to say?"

"What more can we do?" said the Silencer.

"We persuaded some people," said Croft. "It's a start."

"What would you suggest?" said Annie.

"Hold more Peaceful Debates. Try to persuade other people."

The Silencer looked at Croft distastefully. "I'm not a politician, or a big speaker. There's a reason I'm called the Silencer, not the Talker."

"But you can't just give up," said Croft.

"Sure I can," said the Silencer. "Just watch me."

"But what about your bounty hunting work?"

"I can still get work," said the Silencer. "I'll just have to work a bit harder to get it."

Croft tried to think of something to say to counter that. He looked at the Silencer, who was now ignoring him, and then at Annie. Annie just shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Tell them I'm not joining anything, Annie," said the Silencer, heading into another room.

Annie went to the door. When she opened it up, she found herself faced with an unfamiliar Graftonite. She also noticed two Graftonites behind the newcomer, both looking grim.

"Yes?" said Annie.

"I'm here to assess your house, Ma'am," said the man.

Croft listened curiously from within the house. As he had already learned, real estate taxes were one of the few taxies levied on Grafton. Under the system set up by the locals, assessors came and assessed the value of each property, and the higher the assessment, the higher the taxes. But another curious factor that came into play was the quality of the gunfighter who owned the house. Since the property owner could challenge the assessment by threatening to shoot the county assessor, counties typically charged lower assessments on homes owned by superior gunmen, to reduce the likelihood that they would challenge the assessment by shooting the assessor. A high quality gunman might risk a gun fight if he were assessed high taxes; but if the taxes were kept low, even a crack gunman would think it unworth the risk.

Annie frowned. "Our ranch isn't due to be reassessed for another year."

"The county supervisor has issued a proclamation," said the man.

"And I don't recognize you," said Annie. "You're not the regular assessor."

"I'm specially deputized by the county, Ma'am," said the man. "My name is Clem Arnot."

"I recognize the name," said Annie. "You're a silver medalist, are you not?"

"Yes, Ma'am, Olympics of '04, I'm flattered you recognize my name," said Arnot.

"Very well, would you like to come in to look at the house?" said Annie guardedly.

"Not necessary, Ma'am," said Arnot. "I'm ready to provide an assessment now."

"Without even looking in the house?"

"New rules, Ma'am," said Arnot.

Annie paused, suddenly feeling tense inside. She heard footsteps moving very softly in the background behind her. "Very well, then. What is your assessment?"

"We're assessing your ranch at 50,000,000 credits," said Arnot. "That will lead to a tax of 1,200,000 credits."

"50,000,000 credits? 1,200,000 credits!" said Annie. "Not only is that nearly quadruple our last valuation, but that's more than seven times the rate we were taxed last time."

Arnot swallowed hard. "I realize that, Ma'am. But the amount is supposed to be paid in full, immediately on assessment."

Annie stared hard at Arnot. His hands hadn't moved, but were down by his sides. His two men, however, had tensed up.

After a moment's pause, Arnot said, "Ma'am, are you going to pay, or do you want to challenge your assessment?"

Annie looked at him, and then at his two assistants. "Surely you're not proposing to make me fight three of you at once."

"If you choose to challenge your assessment, I'm afraid so, Ma'am."

"The rules have always been that it's a one on one fair fight, with the owner versus the assessor alone," said Annie.

"The rules have been changed, Ma'am," said Arnot. He tried to resist tensing up. "What is your decision, Ma'am?"

The door, which had been halfway open, was pulled open further from the inside.

"I'll handle this," said the Silencer coldly.

He stared at Arnot for a moment, and Arnot withered in his gaze as if he were slowly being burned where he stood.

"So," said the Silencer slowly. "It's not enough to put a ringer in the place of the assessor, a silver medalist ringer, but you have to go three on one, is that it?"

"Your prowess is well known, Silencer," said Arnot.

The Silencer spoke to Annie, without turning his gaze away from Arnot. "Annie, get inside."

"I'm not going anywhere, John," said Annie.

"Wives," said the Silencer, giving a rare smile. He stepped in front of Annie. He looked at the two men accompanying Arnot. "I don't recognize either of you. Are either of you senior medalists?"

The men shook their heads slowly.

"It seems you didn't come prepared," said the Silencer.

"Yes I did, Silencer," said Arnot.

Two more men stepped out of the bushes.

"Meet John Lancing, distance shooting bronze medalist, '54," said Arnot. "And Saw Maran, motion shooting silver medalist, '48 and '57." He looked at the Silencer's face for any sign of fear. Now the Silencer would have to take on five of them, and three of them were senior Olympic medalists.

"A double silver medalist, hm?" said the Silencer, addressing Maran. "But you never could be number one, could you?"

Maran stared at him coldly. "Test us and see."

"So it's not enough to have five against one," said the Silencer. "And it's not enough to have three medalists against one. I also see you have those zip guns on the back of your hands, so all you have to do is point to shoot. I assume Mo Quandry sent you; my only question is, is he so short of men that he wasn't able to send anyone else?"

"Are you challenging your assessment, Silencer?" said Arnot, taking a slow step back.

The Silencer nodded. "I'm about to. But first, Annie, get back in the house."

"No, John."

Croft watched intently from the edge of a window frame, keeping himself out of direct view of the others. He knew he didn't have the reflexes to help here, but was fascinated to see what would happen next.

The Silencer paused, as if considering what to say next, and even half turned his head to say something, and then, almost faster than Croft could see, his blasters zipped out, one in each hand, and was blazing away. Annie's gun was out too, though Croft couldn't say exactly where in the chain of events it left her holster.

There were several flashes of light, and then silence.

In the time it took Croft to turn his gaze away from the Silencer and Annie to the ground outside, he saw five bodies, sprawled on the ground.

The Silencer casually stepped out onto the porch to make sure they were dead.

"You could have coordinated better, John," said Annie. "I almost didn't draw in time."

"Nonsense," said the Silencer. "You know my half turn move better than anyone." He kicked the bodies each in turn, observing no sign of life. Then he casually walked back to the porch, and eyed something on one of the beams. A scorch mark.

"Another one. We'll have to get that fixed too," said the Silencer calmly.

Croft came out onto the porch. "That was incredible!" he said.

"Really?" said the Silencer.

"You took out five of them!" said Croft.

"It wasn't like any of them were even gold medalists," said the Silencer. "And I let Annie take one of them."

"Two of them, John," said Annie. "I also got Maran."

"He was dead before your shot hit him," said the Silencer.

"We can argue about that later," said Annie.

The Silencer turned to face Croft, and his expression was cold. "I'm not very happy with you," he said, looking hard at Croft.

Croft resisted the urge to run away. "What do you mean?"

The Silencer slowly approached Croft. "You got me involved. If I hadn't gotten involved, this wouldn't have happened. You've forced me to kill people without getting paid. And they're going to only send more and more people that I'll have to kill, also without getting paid." He now stood almost face to face with Croft. "I don't work for free; how do you plan to compensate me?"

"John!" said Annie, getting between him and Croft. "Don't blame him. You decided what to do for yourself. Clifford didn't make you do anything."

The Silencer turned away for a moment. He didn't say anything. One moment passed into another.

Croft looked wordlessly at Annie. She motioned him to keep quiet.

What was the Silencer thinking? Was he really debating whether to shoot Croft?

The Silencer let himself be bathed in the wind outside his home for a moment. They heard the low rustle as the wind swept by the trees. Then, when the wind had passed, he turned around.

"All right," he said, clutching one of his blasters.

"All right, what?" said Croft, gulping.

"It has to be done," said the Silencer.

Annie moved in front of Croft. "John, what are you talking about?"

"I'm going to kill Mo Quandry."