“Yes?” said the colonel mildly.
“I demand that the Tech Schools be closed at once, and the recruits released for work details. If you want to keep your command, you’ll issue that order. The staff is behind me on this!”
Colonel Harris rose slowly to his feet. Kurt waited for the thunder to roll, but strangely enough, it didn’t. It almost seemed to him that there was an expression of concealed amusement playing across the colonel’s face.
“Some day, just for once,” he said, “I wish somebody around here would do something that hasn’t been done before.”
“What do you mean by that?” demanded Blick.
“Nothing,” said the colonel. “You know,” he continued conversationally, “a long time ago I walked into my C.O.’s office and made the same demands and the same threats that you’re making now. I didn’t get very far, though—just as you aren’t going to—because I overlooked the little matter of the Inspector General’s annual visit. He’s due in from Imperial Headquarters Saturday night, isn’t he, Blick?”
“You know he is!” growled the other.
“Aren’t worried, are you? It occurs to me that the I.G. might take a dim view of your new order.”
“I don’t think he’ll mind,” said Blick with a nasty grin. “Now will you issue the order to close the Tech Schools or won’t you?”
“Of course not!” said the colonel brusquely.
“That’s final?”
Colonel Harris just nodded.
“All right,” barked Blick, “you asked for it!”
There was an ugly look on his face as he barked, “Kane! Simmons! Arnett! The rest of you! Get in here!”
The door to Harris’ office swung slowly open and revealed a group of officers standing sheepishly in the anteroom.
“Come in, gentlemen,” said Colonel Harris.
They came slowly forward and grouped themselves just inside the door.
“I’m taking over!” roared Blick. “This garrison has needed a house-cleaning for a long time and I’m just the man to do it!”
“How about the rest of you?” asked the colonel.
“Beg pardon, sir,” said one hesitantly, “but we think Colonel Blick’s probably right. I’m afraid we’re going to have to confine you for a few days. Just until after the I.G.’s visit,” he added apologetically.
“And what do you think the I.G. will say to all this?”
“Colonel Blick says we don’t have to worry about that,” said the officer. “He’s going to take care of everything.”
A look of sudden anxiety played across Harris’ face and for the first time he seemed on the verge of losing his composure.
“How?” he demanded, his voice betraying his concern.
“He didn’t say, sir,” the other replied. Harris relaxed visibly.
“All right,” said Blick. “Let’s get moving!” He walked behind the desk and plumped into the colonel’s chair. Hoisting his feet on the desk he gave his first command.
“Take him away!”
There was a sudden roar from the far corner of the room. “No you don’t!” shouted Kurt. His battle-ax leaped into his hand as he jumped in front of Colonel Harris, his muscular body taut and his gray eyes flashing defiance.
Blick jumped to his feet. “Disarm that man!” he commanded. There was a certain amount of scuffling as the officers in the front of the group by the door tried to move to the rear and those behind them resolutely defended their more protected positions.
Blick’s face grew so purple that he seemed on the verge of apoplexy. “Major Kane,” he demanded, “place that man under restraint!”
Kane advanced toward Kurt with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. Keeping a cautious eye on the glittering ax head, he said in what he obviously hoped to be a placating voice, “Come now, old man. Can’t have this sort of thing, you know.” He stretched out his hand hesitantly toward Kurt. “Why don’t you give me your ax and we’ll forget that the incident ever occurred.”
Kurt’s ax suddenly leaped toward the major’s head. Kane stood petrified as death whizzed toward him. At the last split second Kurt gave a practiced twist to his wrist and the ax jumped up, cutting the air over the major’s head with a vicious whistle. The top half of his silver staff plume drifted slowly to the floor.
“You want it,” roared Kurt, his ax flicking back and forth like a snake’s tongue, “you come get it. That goes for the rest of you, too!”
The litde knot of officers retreated still farther. Colonel Harris was having the time of his life.
“Give it to ’em, son!” he whooped.
Blick looked contemptuously at the staff and slowly drew his own ax. Colonel Harris suddenly stopped laughing.
“Wait a minute, Blick!” he said. “This has gone far enough.” He turned to Kurt.
“Give them your ax, son.”
Kurt looked at him with an expression of hurt bewilderment in his eyes, hesitated for a moment, and then glumly surrendered his weapon to the relieved major.
“Now,” snarled Blick, “take that insolent puppy out and feed him to the lizards!”
Kurt drew himself up in injured dignity. “That is no way to refer to a brother officer,” he said reproachfully.
The vein in Blick’s forehead started to pulse again. “Get him out of here before I tear him to shreds!” he hissed through clenched teeth. There was silence for a moment as he fought to regain control of himself. Finally he succeeded.
“Lock him up!” he said in an approximation to his normal voice. “Tell the provost sergeant I’ll send down the charges as soon as I can think up enough.”
Kurt was led resentfully from the room.
“The rest of you clear out,” said Blick. “I want to talk with Colonel Harris about the I.G.”
VI
There was a saying in the Protectorate that when the Lord Protector was angry, stars and heads fell. Commander Krogson felt his wobble on his neck. His far-sweeping scouts were sending back nothing but reports of equipment failure, and the sector commander had coldly informed him that morning that his name rested securely at the bottom of the achievement list. It looked as if War Base Three would shortly have a change of command. “Look, Schninkle,” he said desperately, “even if we can’t give them anything, couldn’t we make a promise that would look good enough to take some of the heat off us?”
Schninkle looked dubious.
“Maybe a new five-year plan?” suggested Krogson.
The little man shook his head. “That’s a subject we’d better avoid entirely,” he said. “They’re still asking nasty questions about what happened to the last one. Mainly on the matter of our transport quota. I took the liberty of passing the buck on down to Logistics. Several of them have been… eh… removed as a consequence.”
“Serves them right!” snorted Krogson. “They got me into that mess with their ‘if a freighter and a half flies a light-year and a half in a month and a half, ten freighters can fly ten light-years in ten months!’ I knew there was something fishy about it at the time, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“It’s always darkest before the storm,” said Schninkle helpfully.
