I turned and stepped forward to confront
the Bonneys, mentally thanking Gail. Up until
she’d slapped me, I’d been weak-kneed and
dry-mouthed with what I had to do. Now I was
just plain angry, and I found that I was thinking
a lot more clearly. Jack-High Bonney’s wounded
left shoulder, I knew, wouldn’t keep him from
using his gun hand, but his shoulder muscles would
be stiff enough to slow his draw. I’d intended
saving him until I’d dealt with his brothers.
Now, I remembered how he’d gotten that wound
in the first place: he’d been the one who’d
used the auto-rifle, out at the Hickock ranch.
So I changed my plans and moved him up to top priority.
“Hold it!” I yelled at
them. “You’ve been cleared of killing
a politician, but you still have killing a Solar League
Ambassador to answer for. Now get your hands
full of guns, if you don’t want to die with
them empty!”
The crowd of sympathizers and felicitators
simply exploded away from the Bonney brothers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sidney and a fat,
blowsy woman with brass-colored hair as they both tried
to dive under the friends-of-the-court table at the
same place. The Bonney brothers simply stood
and stared at me, for an instant, unbelievingly, as
I got my thumbs on the release-studs of my belt.
Judge Nelson’s gavel was hammering, and he was
shouting:
“Court-of-Political-Justice-Confederate-Continent-of-New-Texas-is-herewith-adjourned-reconvene-0900-tomorrow.
Hit the floor!”
“Damn! He means it!” Switchblade
Joe Bonney exclaimed.
Then they all reached for their guns.
They were still reaching when I pressed the studs
and the Krupp-Tattas popped up into my hands, and I
swung up my right-hand gun and shot Jack-High through
the head. After that, I just let my subconscious
take over. I saw gun flames jump out at me from
the Bonneys’ weapons, and I felt my own pistols
leap and writhe in my hands, but I don’t believe
I was aware of hearing the shots, not even from my
own weapons. The whole thing probably lasted five
seconds, but it seemed like twenty minutes to me.
Then there was nobody shooting at me, and nobody for
me to shoot at; the big room was silent, and I was
aware that Judge Nelson and his eight associates were
rising cautiously from behind the bench.
I holstered my left-hand gun, removed
and replaced the magazine of the right-hand gun, then
holstered it and reloaded the other one. Hoddy
Ringo and Francisco Parros and Commander Stonehenge
were on their feet, their pistols drawn, covering
the spectators’ seats. Colonel Hickock had
also drawn a pistol and he was covering Sidney with
it, occasionally moving the muzzle to the left to
include the z’Srauff Ambassador and his two
attaches.
By this time, Nelson and the other
eight judges were in their seats, trying to look calm
and judicial.
“Your Honor,” I said,
“I fully realize that no judge likes to have
his court turned into a shooting gallery. I can
assure you, however, that my action here was not the
result of any lack of respect for this court.
It was pure necessity. Your Honor can see that:
my government could not permit this crime against
its Ambassador to pass unpunished.”
Judge Nelson nodded solemnly.
“Court was adjourned when this little incident
happened, Mr. Silk,” he said.
He leaned forward and looked to where
the three Bonney brothers were making a mess of blood
on the floor. “I trust that nobody will
construe my unofficial and personal comments here
as establishing any legal precedent, and I wouldn’t
like to see this sort of thing become customary ...
but ... you did that all by yourself, with those little
beanshooters?... Not bad, not bad at all, Mr.
Silk.”
I thanked him, then turned to the
z’Srauff Ambassador. I didn’t bother
putting my remarks into Basic. He understood,
as well as I did, what I was saying.
“Look, Fido,” I told him,
“my government is quite well aware of the source
from which the orders for the murder of my predecessor
came. These men I just killed were only the tools.
“We’re going to get the
brains behind them, if we have to send every warship
we own into the z’Srauff star-cluster and devastate
every planet in it. We don’t let dogs snap
at us. And when they do, we don’t kick
them, we shoot them!”
That, of course, was not exactly striped-pants
diplomatic language. I wondered, for a moment,
what Norman Gazarian, the protocol man, would think
if he heard an Ambassador calling another Ambassador
Fido.
But it seemed to be the kind of language
that Mr. Vuvuvu understood. He skinned back his
upper lip at me and began snarling and growling.
Then he turned on his hind paws and padded angrily
down the aisle away from the front of the courtroom.
The spectators around him and above
him began barking, baying, yelping at him: “Tie
a can to his tail!” “Git for home, Bruno!”
Then somebody yelled, “Hey,
look! Even his wrist watch is blushing!”
That was perfectly true. Mr.
Gglafrr Ddespttann Vuvuvu’s watch-face, normally
white, was now glowing a bright ruby-red.
I looked at Stonehenge and found him
looking at me. It would be full dark in four
or five hours; there ought to be something spectacular
to see in the cloudless skies of Capella IV tonight.
Fleet Admiral Sir Rodney Tregaskis would see to that.
FROM REPORT
OF SPACE-COMMANDER STONEHENGE
TO SECRETARY OF AGGRESSION, KLUeNG:
... so the measures considered by
yourself and Secretary of State Ghopal Singh and Security
Cooerdinator Natalenko, as transmitted to me by Mr.
Hoddy Ringo, were not, I am glad to say, needed.
Ambassador Silk, alive, handled the thing much better
than Ambassador Silk, dead, could possibly have.
... to confirm Sir Rodney Tregaskis’
report from the tales of the few survivors, the z’Srauff
attack came as the Ambassador had expected. They
dropped out of hyperspace about seventy light-minutes
outside the Capella system, apparently in complete
ignorance of the presence of our fleet.
... have learned the entire fleet
consisted of about three hundred spaceships and reports
reaching here indicate that no more than twenty got
back to z’Srauff Cluster.
... naturally, the whole affair has
had a profound influence, an influence to the benefit
of the Solar League, on all shades of public opinion.
... as you properly assumed, Mr. Hoddy
Ringo is no longer with us. When it became apparent
that the Palme-Silk Annexation Treaty would be ratified
here, Mr. Ringo immediately saw that his status of
diplomatic immunity would automatically terminate.
Accordingly, he left this system, embarking from New
Austin for Alderbaran IX, mentioning, as he shook
hands with me, something about a widow. By a curious
coincidence, the richest branch bank in the city was
held up by a lone bandit about half an hour before
he boarded the space-ship...._
FINAL MESSAGE
OF THE LAST SOLAR AMBASSADOR TO NEW
TEXAS
STEPHEN SILK
Copies of the Treaty of Annexation, duly ratified
by the New Texas
Legislature, herewith.
Please note that the guarantees of
non-intervention in local political institutions are
the very minimum which are acceptable to the people
of New Texas. They are especially adamant that
there will be no change in their peculiar methods
of insuring that their elected and appointed public
officials shall be responsible to the electorate.
DEPARTMENT ADDENDUM
After the ratification of the Palme-Silk
treaty, Mr. Silk remained on New Texas, married the
daughter of a local rancher there (see file on First
Ambassador, Colonel Andrew Jackson Hickock) and is
still active in politics on that planet, often in
opposition to Solar League policies, which he seems
to anticipate with an almost uncanny prescience.
Natalenko re-read the addendum, pursed
his thick lips and sighed. There were so many
ways he could be using Mr. Stephen Silk....
For example he looked at
the tri-di star-map, both usefully and
beautifully decorating his walls over there,
where Hoddy Ringo had gone, near Alderbaran IX.
Those were twin planets, one apparently
settled by the equivalent descendants of the Edwards
and the other inhabited by the children of a Jukes-Kallikak
union. Even the Solar League Ambassadors there
had taken the viewpoints of the planets to whom they
were accredited, instead of the all-embracing view
which their training should have given them....
Curious problem ... and, how would
Stephen Silk have handled it?
The Security Cooerdinator scrawled
a note comprehensible only to himself....