"Good," Jamil said, resting lightly on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet. "When I say the word 'go,' I want you to try and knock me to the ground. I will try to do the same to you."

Trella nodded to indicate that she understood.

Jamil opened his mouth, but he didn't say go. Instead he kicked Trella's legs out from under her and shoved hard with his hands. The young dremeck tumbled heavily to the floor, where she lay glaring at Jamil and catching her breath.

The dremecks murmured uneasily.

Trella jumped to her feet. "That wasn't fair!" she cried. "You didn't say 'go'!"

"Didn't I?" Jamil was contrite. "I'm sorry. This time I'll say 'go.' I promise."

Hands to shoulders, he and the dremeck squared off. Once again, Jamil's foot shot out and Trella went down.

"Go!" said Jamil, grinning. "Therea"I said it."

Trella picked herself back up, her face grim. The crowd's murmur had deepened in tone. The dremecks didn't like this.

Jamil crouched, reached out his hands. "Once more. This time I'll let you saya" Oof!"

Trella lifted her hands, but she didn't put them on Jamil's shoulders. She shoved them into his chest, putting all the force of her stocky, well-conditioned body behind the blow.

Jamil lay on his back staring up into the darkness of the cavern ceiling. After a few tense moments wondering if he was ever going to breathe again, he gulped air, then regained his feet, "I'm sorry!" Trella was trembling all over. "Oh, sir, I'm so very, very sorry! Are you dying? I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear it! I only wanted you to stop knocking me down!"

"I'm all right," he gasped, wheezing. "Don't worry, Trella. You did ... what I wanted you to do."

"You wanted me to knock you down?" Trella was amazed.

"Yes," said Jamil, and wished like h.e.l.l he was telling the truth.

The young dremecks had given their version of a cheer when he went down. But now they were silent, fearful. At the same time, he could sense they were excited about what Trella had done.

You didn't start this, he reminded himself. It's obvious these dremecks can be pushed only so far before they begin pushing back.

At this point, some questions occurred to him: Do the elders know what the young have been up to? Do they know about the b.o.o.by traps? Do they know that the young are ready to rebel? If the answer is yes, then maybe Marmand brought in outside help in order to forestall the young from acting on their own.

"Were you afraid of me when you knocked me down?" Jamil asked.

"Yes," said Trella, thinking back. "But I was more angry than I was afraid. What you did wasn't fair. And I didn't want you to knock me down anymore. It didn't hurt so much, but it made me feel bad."

"Were you afraid of me when I was lying on the ground?" Jamil asked with a smile.

"No," Trella said, her face-folds spreading away from her mouth in a dremeck grin.

"Congratulations, Trella," Jamil said. "You're no longer a slave. To the humans or to your fear."

Jamil kept the young dremecks hard at work the rest of the week. They practiced drilling and marching, giving fierce-sounding yells (one of the more difficult a.s.signments). They practiced twisting their face-folds into ferocious scowls (accomplished after much laughter) and to charge forward en ma.s.se screaming at the tops of their lungs, after which they solemnly "accepted the surrender" of those dremecks detailed to playing Uglies.

Jamil taught them how to use the useless beam rifles, how to pretend to fire them, pretend to recharge them. Quong and Tycho had even rigged the guns to emit light and a burst of sound when "fired." The light was an eerie green color, like no light ever before seen coming out of a beam rifle and the sound was something between a burp and the dremecks loved it and, thought Jamil, it was at least guaranteed to confuse the enemy, if it did nothing else.

He didn't have tune to train the dremecks to be soldiers. He had time to tram them to look like soldiersa"enough to fool human civilians into thinking the dremecks were a fighting force. If they came up against a real army, G.o.d help them!

According to the plan, they wouldn't come up against real soldiers. But the first lesson Jamil had learned in the Army was that the plan never survives contact with the enemy.

The dremecks in training were ordered to remain down in the caverns, isolated from the rest of the dremecks, especially the elders. Jamil slept with them, but he didn't eat with them. During their eating periodsa"dremecks eat twice dailya"the young dremecks went off to one of their "pastures," food-growing areas located in the burrows, where they plucked the leaves and flowers from some sort of plant life that apparently thrived in darkness (Quong was collecting samples) and devoured them on the spot.

While the dremecks grazed, Jamil went topside to report to the rest of the team and discover the success of their various missions.

The news was gooda"sort of.

"Quong, you first," said Jamil, ignoring Raoul, who was patting the air with his fingertips, a gesture indicative of strong excitement and violent emotion, which would have been more fully exhibited but for the fact that he might ruin the line of his hand-tailored suit. "You've been talking to some of the Uglies. How did that go?"

"Trying to talk is more like it," Quong grumbled. "I have never seen such pervasive fear in any population. The few who are willing to speak on the subject are those from the very dregs of society, who have nothing much to lose. But from them I gather that there is a certain amount of sympathy for the dremecks on Del Sol. Kirkov has his supporters, but those are mostly found among the upper cla.s.ses, whom he courts, and the Army, which is extremely loyal to him.

"The general populace would be pleased to have Kirkov removed. However, while they do not like to see the dremecks used as slaves or 'relocated,' they would not be particularly pleased to have dremecks as rulers. At least not now. The humans, even those who like the dremecks, have no respect for them.

"It seems that there was a resistance movement started several years ago by some humans," Quong stated. "A group formed to try to gain more rights for the dremecks. The dremecks at first promised they would partic.i.p.ate, but at the crucial moment they all disappeared, leaving the humans to face arrest and subsequent deportation and incarceration."

"Oh, goody," said Jamil in gloomy tones. "They didn't have you for a leader," Darlene said, pat-ting his shoulder comfortingly.

Jamil only grunted.

"At any rate," Quong continued, "I believe that most of the humans on Del Sol will go along with us, if for no other reason than the chance to rid themselves of Kirkov, whom they describe as a bully, a thug, and a criminal, surrounded by a highly trained and highly motivated Army, which doubles as a police force."

"This just gets better and better." Jamil shook his head. "Me next!" Raoul was panting with eagerness. "In a minute. Darlene. Your report."

"The military commlink system was a b.i.t.c.h to break into, but I managed, after two days and a sleepless night. This is the way it will work: When I send the command, all calls coming into the military HQa"which, as Quong says, doubles as the police stationa"will be routed into a voice-mail system that will be very polite but won't let them speak to any live person in the known universe. Outgoing calls will be scrambled, so that when the general issues the order to his troops to hit the streets, he'll find himself speaking to the cook in the mess hall. The next time he tries, he'll get the commissary, and so on."

"Why not just cut communications altogether?" Quong asked.

"Because the military would immediately view that as sinister, the prelude to trouble. The way this is set up now, they'll think it is just a screw-up. The general's calls aren't going through. Something's wrong with the system. It's a job for the engineers. Eventually the army bra.s.s will figure it out and realize that they've been sabotaged, but by that time it will be too late. The next thing they know, Kirkov is seen surrendering to the dremecks.

"What about the Army bra.s.s? Jamil asked worriedly. "Will they refuse to accept defeat? Hang around to fight? Quong says they're loyala""

Darlene grinned. "To Kirkov and the life he's providing them. Once he's gonea"or rather once they think he's gonea"they'll be on the first transport out of here. According to what I've discovered snooping around in their personal files, every one of them is up to his or her eyeb.a.l.l.s in graft and corruption. They figure it's just a matter of time before someone moves in and ends the good life. They've all got secret bank accounts, houses built on other planets, and one-way tickets for themselves and their families off of Del Sol."

Jamil nodded, grudgingly optimistic. "We'll let the Crown deal with them. Next."

"Me, me!" Raoul begged.

Jamil had been putting this off, because he was certain he would be in for a barrage of excuses and evasions, all adding up to the fact that Raoul had, and after much work, obtained an autographed vid of Rusty Love. Nothing more.

Which meant that Jamil would have to figure out some other way of dealing with Kirkov. He had a few ideas....

"Me, me!" Raoul said, wriggling with excitement.

"All right. Raoul. Have you contacted your dear friend, Rusty Love, and will he agree to come to Del Sol and perform this little charade for us?" Jamil didn't bother to hide his sarcasm, knowing that Raoul wouldn't notice it anyway.

"Yes! And yes!" cried Raoul ecstatically.

"He will?" Jamil asked, astonished.

Raoul preened, smoothing his long, black hair and reading from a note written in his delicate handwriting on the back of a shopping list.

"My dear friend Rusty Love"a"Raoul glanced at Jamil, eyes glittering from beneath blue-tipped eyelashesa""will arrive in Del Sol on the date specified. We will meet him at the s.p.a.ceporta"he will be in disguise, naturally; you've no idea how he suffers from the tabloids. We will take him to the hotel, where he will be available for briefing and rehearsal.

"The next day, he will make the switch, as arranged. He will be driven to the palace and will there surrender to the dremecks. After which, he will depart."

"Is this on the level?" Jamil asked Quong and Darlene.

Both nodded.

"I spoke to Mr. Love on vidphone myself," Quong said. "He said he would do anything for Raoul."

"He even began to elaborate," Darlene added, "explaining what he would do and how. At which point we ended the conversation. Quickly."

The little One sidled up to Jamil and punched him in the thigh with his fist. Jamil couldn't see much beneath the brim of the fedora, but he was positive the Little One was smirking.

"Okay," Jamil said magnanimously, "I admit it, Raoul. I doubted you and I'm sorry."

Raoul rose to his feet and made a graceful bow. The Little One punched Jamil again.

"Ouch. Okay. I apologize to you, too. Let's get on with this. My army will be back from gently nibbling tender plants any minute now. Tycho?"

The chameleon smiled and nodded.

"Turn on your translator." Jamil sighed and gestured.

Tycho switched it on. "Sorry, boss. Were you talking to me?"

"I want your report. The others have given theirs. Weren't you listening?"

"But I have already listened to them once. To hear them again would be abundant."

"Redundant," Darlene corrected.

"Thank you. My report. In my guise as tourist, I traveled to the Royal Palace and joined a group who were being given the standard guided tour. Vids were not allowed, of course, but I had the doctor's concealed vidcam and so that was not a problem. We were shown the office of state, where Kirkov performs all official functions, and I was able to obtain excellent vid footage of the desk, the throne, and the background. I also took vids of certain portraits of Kirkov in ceremonial uniform, which I have given to Raoul, who is in charge of the costumes.

"Next I took vids of major intersections and other prominent buildings in the city itself, for use as backdrops. Finally, I have vids of the vid station, both its interiora" Darlene and I took a toura"and its exterior, and also its grounds and environs. You will find it all here." Tycho handed over a portable vidviewer.

"Well done," said Jamil. "And after this, keep your translator on, will you, Tycho? One of us might, by accident, say something important." He stood up, prepared to make his way back to the cavern.

"How are the troops shaping up?" Darlene asked.

"Fine," said Jamil. "Don't worry. We're coming along fine. I'll make killers of them yet."

"Jamila"" Darlene began.

"Good work," he said, interrupting her, and left before she could finish.

Back down in the cavern, he had the young dremecks pretend to dub each other with the b.u.t.t end of their useless beam rifles.

CHAPTER 30.

G.o.d sends meat, and the Devil sends cooks.

John Taylor, Works.

"Tampambulos."

The force field shut down, the red glow fading, along with the very faint buzzing, which Xris had not even been aware he was hearing until it ended.

"Yeah?" Xris said, not looking up from his vidbook.

"On your feet. Warden wants to see you."

"Tell him I appreciate the invitation but I'm otherwise engaged."

The guard grunted, didn't even bother to respond. He must have heard that one a million times. Xris tossed the book aside, pushed himself up off the bed. As he started to leave the cell, the guard gestured with the stun gun toward a neatly folded pile of clothes.

"You want me to bring those?" Xris asked.

The guard nodded.

Xris was surprised. "Am I being released from solitary?"

The guard shrugged, shook his head.

"I guess that depends on how my meeting with the warden goes, doesn't it?" Xris suggested.

The guard shrugged again and gestured with his stun gun.

Grabbing his small bundle of underwear, Xris limped down the corridor. After two days of enforced idleness, his jointsa"his real jointsa"had stiffened up on him.

"I hope they're not paying you by the word," Xris said politely.

The guard grunted again and this time he almost smiled.

After a long walk through a sterile corridor, branching off into a maze of cells, Xris was brought to a halt at a security post. While they pa.s.sed him through, he glanced around. This cellblock was located below ground level; he hadn't even been aware that it existed. The guard at security gave Xris the okay. A ma.s.sive steel door swung open, and he stepped outside.

Rain pounded down on his head, soaking him. For once, he didn't mind. He paused to enjoy the smell of the rain-wet gra.s.s, enjoy the sight of the gray clouds scudding overhead. More than once, alone in his cell, the thought had occurred to him that Amadi had double-crossed him, that this might be Amadi's way of getting rid of him, that he might never see the outdoors again. As it was, rain running down the back of his neck felt wonderful.

He and the guard slogged across the yard, heading for the administration building. A group of prisoners, clad in plastic ponchos, were outside shoveling mud off the sidewalks. Since it was still raining and more mud was washing down the hillside every second, their job seemed futile. They didn't look happy about it and neither did their guard.