The World Menders

durrlz to flight, so they met no traffic and Farrari never saw a rasc. While his olz marched obediently behind their appointed leaders, he ranged far on either side of the highway, scouting out abandoned durrl headquarters to raid for supplies, and selecting recruits from olz at work in the fields they passed. His olz paid no attention to him at all, because none of them dared look at an assistant durrl, and so it was that when he found an ol not only looking at him, but even following him about, he was instantly aware of it. Amused, he circled behind the ol and asked, “Are you lost?”

“Yes,” Peter Jorrul muttered. “Completely lost. I can’t begin to figure out what’s going on.”

“You’re the most unlikely ol I’ve ever seen,” Farrari told him. “All your muscles are in the wrong places.”

“I had to see this for myself. Liano told us you were dead, and then—” “Liano? Where is she?”

“At base. She came to my headquarters and asked to be sent back.”

“You mean she said I was dead?” Jorrul nodded.

“How is she?”

“Well. Normal.”

“What do you mean by ‘normal’?”

“Normal means normal,” Jorrul said dryly. “She seems to have lost her clairvoyancy. Know anything about that?”

“I know she lost it just in time. Is she—happy?”

A smile touched Jorrul’s lips. “She may be when she hears that you’re alive.” He paused and then said sternly, “Just what are you trying to do?”

“Free the olz,” Farrari said. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“I told base that if you really were involved in this we’d find a new record for regulations broken in one operation, with maybe our mission completely ruined and the planet blown as a bonus. Thus far I haven’t seen a single false step. The olz seem to be doing this all by themselves. I haven’t heard you give a single order, and yet the olz are marching on Scorv. How did you manage it?”

“You heard what Liano said. I died.”

“Listen, Farrari. This is a serious matter. We have to know—” He broke off as Farrari opened his cloak, exposing the puncture scars.

“I died,” Farrari said. “Not only that, but I just missed being thrown to the Holy Ancestors, which would have killed me a second time. I’m the only ol on Branoff IV with the distinction of having returned from the dead, and I thought I could make something of that, but it didn’t work out. I don’t manage things, I just blunder into them.”

“You’ve managed the impossible,” Jorrul said firmly. “You’ve not only done it with skill, but as far as I can tell you haven’t done a thing that will get any of us demoted. What are you trying to accomplish with it?”

“Free the olz,” Farrari said again. Awake a slumbering giant and make of it a raging instrument of revenge. Extract payment in kind for the horrors mercilessly inflicted upon a defenseless, subservient race. If he could find a spark, the olz would be masters of Scorvif by the end of summer.

“The olz around here seem free enough right now,” Jorrul said. “What about that fuss in the lower hilngol? Who managed that?”

“I did.”

Jorrul looked at him doubtfully. “Who’s managing the disturbance, across the river?”

“The olz,” Farrari said. “I started it, but they’re managing it by themselves if it’s still going on. Is it?”

“We haven’t been able to find out what’s going on there. The olz seem to have vanished, and the kru’s army is churning up the eastern lilorr in a major campaign against nothing. What happens after you’ve freed the olz?”

Farrari did not answer.

“Do you know what you’re doing and where this thing is headed?”

“Of course!” Farrari said angrily.

“I hope so. A revolution is like the water in a reservoir. Before you smash whatever is holding it there, it’s wise to perform the necessary engineering to find out where it will go. Because if you later discover that you’ve made a mistake, you can’t put the water hack. And once one really gets started, you can’t, ever, put a revolution back. I have to report to base. It’ll take me a couple of days because we’re that far from where I left my corn equipment. Being an ol agent has certain disadvantages—there’s a limit to what one can conceal in a loincloth. Want me to ask base for anything?”

“Would base give it to me?”

“I’m going to recommend that you be appointed field team commander,” Jorrul said soberly. “You started this revolution yourself, and you’re the only one who understands it and knows where it’s going and what the potential is. You should have full authority over all IPR personnel and every available resource. Any orders?”

“How many agents did you bring with you?”

“Every agent we could pry loose has been assigned to the three areas of ol disturbances.”

“Then you aren’t the only strange-looking ol in my army. Get them out of here— recall all of them. The olz are doing this by themselves. I also want you to recall your rasc agents. I’ve seen a lot of dead olz. I expect to see some dead rascz.”

“Our agents will take the risk. That’s their job.”

“Then the responsibility is yours. I don’t want to command the field team. I just want it to stay out of my way.”

“Do you mean you don’t even want a liaison?”

“You thought I’d blown the planet,” Farrari said bitterly. “Let me tell you something. This planet was blown the day IPR landed. The olz are wise. They neither know nor care what an IPR agent really is, but they know he’s no ol. So get your agents out of here. Stay yourself and be my liaison if you want to, but not as an ol. You’ll be more useful as an assistant durrl.”

Jorrul nodded enthusiastically. “No walking. And I can carry my corn equipment with me.”

“Do that,” Farrari said. “And ask base to maintain a continuous surveillance on the kru’s army.”

“We do that anyway as well as we’re able. Agents report everything they see, but agents aren’t always in the right places. When there’s unusual activity we order night flights, but there’s a limit to what one can see from the air at night. Right now we know that large forces are still puttering around the lower hilngol and the southeastern lilorr. Maybe you know what they’re looking for.”

“I know they won’t find it. Those actions were diversions, to tie up as much of the kru’s army as possible so there wouldn’t be anything left to defend Scorv.”

Peter Jorrul murmured: “I see.”

“My own notion of military tactics,” Farrari said lightly. “The best way to defeat a superior foe is to attack when he isn’t there.”

Jorrul looked at him sharply. “That’s a fine idea, but it needs a preliminary reconnaissance and a thorough understanding of the opponent. The kru’s generals aren’t about to rush their central reserve across the river until they’re certain that there’s no threat elsewhere. It’s the local garrisons that are dealing with your diversions. You didn’t pull a single soldier away from Scorv.”

Farrari shrugged. “So I’m no military tactician.”