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  The flitter landed close beside the brink of the cliff. Five Yips alighted, each one carrying a pack, which he slung over his back upon leaving the flitter. Crouching under the weight of their packs, they ran to the elevator terminals. They unslung their packs, arranged reels on the ground and lowered the packs into the shafts, the line paying smoothly from the reels.

  The packs grounded at the bottom of the shafts. At a signal the Yips sent impulses down the line. Then they turned and ran to their flitter. A man emerged from a nearby warehouse. He shouted at them and ordered them to halt, but the Yips paid no heed.

  From deep within the shafts came the rumble of five explosions, sounding as one. At the top the ground shook and split. A person standing across the fjord would have seen a great slab of rock peel slowly away from the cliff and fall with dreamlike deliberation into the fjord eight hundred feet below. Where the town Stroma had stood, with row after row of tall narrow houses, the first rays of daylight shone on a fresh scar on the side of the cliff.

  There was no more Stroma. It was gone as if it had never existed. The population, those who had not removed to Araminta Station, were deep below the waters of the fjord and dead.

  On the brink above the warehouseman stared incredulously down to where his home had been, with spouse, three children and furnishings a thousand years old. It was gone. So swiftly? Yes; in the time it might take him to turn his head! He looked to the north, where the flitter was now only a speck. He ran back into the warehouse and spoke into a telephone.

  Ten miles south, a camouflaged hangar occupied a clearing in the dense forest. The negotiators, upon departing Thurben Island, had flown to the hangar. The hour was late, Dame Clytie was sore, and the group had decided to delay until morning their return to the town.

  The telephone was answered by Julian Bohost. He listened to the frantic voice, then blurted the news to the others.

  At first they rejected the information, declaring it a fantasy, or a hallucination. Then climbing into a flitter, they flew to the site of their ancient home, and were dumbfounded, both by the clean simplicity of the disaster and its incomprehensible magnitude.

  Julian said huskily: “We would have been as dead as the others, had we not stayed over at the hangar!”

  “So she planned it,” said Roby Mavil. “Never has there been a deed so evil!”

  They returned to the hangar. In a faltering voice Dame Clytie said: “Now we must take counsel, and -”

  Kervin Mostick, director of the Action Brigade, cried out: “No more counsel! My home, my family my little children, my precious things - all gone, in a twinkling! Bring out the gunboats! Let them fly! Let them ram their blaze down that she-demon’s throat!”

  No one disputed him. The two gunboats took to the air and flew north. Toward middle afternoon they arrived at Lutwen Atoll. The first notice of their presence was the demolition missile fired into Titus Pompo’s palace beside the Hotel Arcady. Titus Pompo, born Titus Zigonie died instantly. Another missile destroyed the hotel itself and sent a tongue of fire blazing high. Back and forth flew the gunships, disseminating mindless destruction, leaving in their wake gouts of roaring flame and clouds of vile black smoke, which billowed and wallowed downwind like a viscous fluid.

  From the structures of bamboo, cane and palm fronds came screams of terror and despair. The canals became choked with barges and boats, all thrusting toward open water. Some escaped; others were seared by the blaze, until the occupants jumped overboard and tried to swim. At the docks, the fishing boats were swarmed over with terrified men and women. The best of the boats were commandeered by the Oomps, who thrust the previous occupants overboard. The flames roared high; the vile black smoke roiled up, curled and drifted away from the atoll. Boats heavy with survivors moved away from the blazing city; those denied a place on the boats died in the flames, or flung themselves into the sea, hoping to find a trifle of flotsam to which they might cling.

  For a dramatic three minutes Yipton burned with a single flame, with rushing winds converging from all sides. Then the fuel began to fail and the fire dwindled and separated into hundreds of separated flames. In an hour nothing was left but steaming black slime littered with charred corpses. The gunships, their mission complete, returned at best speed to Throy and the hangar in the forest.

  The monitor ship above Lutwen Atoll had notified Bureau B of the conflagration. At once all available transport vessels and aircraft, were sent north, including the Rondine, the Clayhacker, the Flecanpraun, and a pair of tourist packets currently at the terminal.

  The rescue vessels plied back and forth between the waters surrounding Lutwen Atoll and the Marmion Foreshore. The efforts continued three days and nights, until no more survivors were discovered afloat in the waters surrounding the charred crescent of stinking mud. The Yips who had been succored and brought to the Marmion Foreshore numbered twenty-seven thousand persons. Two-thirds of the population had been destroyed either by fire or water.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  * * *

  Chapter 8, Part I

  The Yip survivors were settled in a series of camps on the Marmion Foreshore: beside the sea and along the banks of the Mar River. Titus Pompo had been observed lolling in his palace immediately before the attack; he was certainly dead. Several reports placed Smonny and Namour on the submarine dock under the Arkady hotel and the probabilities were good that they had escaped in the submarine - though now, with the arctic base destroyed, they had nowhere to go.

  As soon as circumstances permitted, Glawen and Chilke made their report to Bodwyn Wook. He extended them a stately, if qualified, commendation. “You have achieved a very fair measure of success: perhaps all that I might have expected, under the circumstances.”

  Glawen and Chilke said that they were gratified to hear Bodwyn Wook’s praise. “We had you in mind at all times, and knew that we must give you no possible cause for complaint,” said Glawen.

  “Nor any other kind,” added Chilke.

  Bodwyn Wook grunted, and looked from one to the other. “You both seem quite brisk and well fed, as if you stinted yourselves nothing. I hope that your expense accounts will not reflect this impression.”

  “We are gentlemen and officers of the Cadwal Constabulary,” said Glawen. “We maintained a proper style of life.”

  “Hmf. Give your accounts to Hilda; she will separate the wheat from the chaff.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Bodwyn Wook leaned back in his chair and gazed toward the ceiling. “It is a pity that you neglected an integral part of your mission - which is to say, the capture of Namour. I gather that while you were resting at the Stronsi ranch, he quietly gave you the slip and attacked Lewyn Barduys. Then, with truly insulting bravado, he escaped in Barduys’ Flecanpraun.”

  “It is true that we met a few setbacks along the way,” Glawen admitted. “But even while we lay in a coma, we were subconsciously aware of our duty to you and Bureau B. This urgency hastened our recovery and we are still hoping for success.”

  “At Bureau B, the word ‘hope’ is not one of our favorites,” said Bodwyn Wook, somewhat sententiously.

  “Actually, we have the case well in hand,” said Chilke. “Namour and Smonny are in a submarine with no place to go. They are like two flies in a bottle.”

  “It is not all so jolly and nice,” rasped Bodwyn Wook.

  “They will surface during the night near a beach, come ashore in a dinghy and let the submarine sink. Then they will steal a space yacht from the terminal and be away before anyone has time to blink. Have you posted a guard at the spaceport?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  Bodwyn Wook spoke into a mesh. “It is done now, and just barely in time, or I do not know Namour. It would be a sorry state of affairs if he bamboozled you again.”

  “That is true,” said Glawen.

  Bodwyn Wook leaned forward and ordered the papers on his desk. “Let us revert, if you will, to the Bank of Mircea. I am not at all clear
as to the sequence of events - or the events themselves, for that matter.”

  So far, no one had mentioned Kathcar, but both Glawen and Chilke were assured that, in his attempts at ingratiation, all Kathcar knew had gushed forth like the contents slumping from a split haggis.

  Bodwyn Wook spoke on, his voice unusually easy and casual. “According to that rogue Rufo Kathcar, you were lucky enough to deny Sir Denzel’s funds to Julian Bohost. Kathcar’s version of events is confused; I can’t make head nor tail of the transaction, save that certain of the funds found their way into your personal account.”

  “That is partly correct. I placed these funds into what I call ‘the Floreste account’ - moneys of which you are aware.”

  “Hmf. The sum seems to have been significant; am I right?”

  “I forget the exact amount; it was probably about fifty thousand sols.”

  Bodwyn Wook gave another noncommittal grunt. “Whatever the case, it dealt Julian and the LPF a shrewd blow. And what next?”

  “We encountered the usual incidents. At Zaster Commander Chilke and I consumed several hygienic meals, but we left the planet before we became truly fit. However, we had taken directions which ultimately led us to Lewyn Barduys on Rosalia. Namour attacked Barduys and we were able to interfere. As a result Barduys will transport the Yips to Rosalia at no cost to us. That is the gist of events.”

  “Most interesting! And of course there was no other advantage or perquisite gained during this time?”

  “Not altogether. Commander Chilke has established a close friendship with Flitz. More formally, she is Felitzia Stronsi, and she owns Stronsi Ranch. This connection might well be regarded as a ‘perquisite’ and certainly as an ‘advantage.’”

  Bodwyn Wook drummed his long fingers on the arms of his chair. “Interesting.” He looked at Chilke. “I hope that you confined these activities to off-duty hours?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “That is good to hear.” Bodwyn Wook again ordered the papers on his desk. “And this happy new relationship was the only adjunct or perquisite enjoyed during your mission?”

  “Just so, sir,” said Chilke.

  Glawen added, by way of afterthought: “Except, of course, for the trivial business of the space yacht, of which Kathcar has surely informed you.”

  “He mentioned something of the sort. Where is this luxurious and expensive Fortunatus space yacht now?”

  “It is stored in a hangar at Ballyloo terminal, near Pasch on the world Kars.”

  “And why has it been secreted there, when it is the property of the Conservancy?”

  “Because we returned to Cadwal in company with Lewyn Barduys, the better to fulfill our mission.”

  “Hmf,” said Bodwyn Wook. “It seems a bit circuitous. But no matter; we shall examine the case from all directions. Conservancy property is sacrosanct.” He leaned back in his chair. “That is all for now.”

  * * *

  Chapter 8, Part II

  Six days after the two disasters, the Court of High Justice convened in the Moot Hall of the Old Agency building, at the far end of Wansey Way.

  The three judges, Dame Melba Veder, Rowan Clattuc and High Justice Hilva Offaw, entered the chamber and took their seats on the dais. The three semicircular tiers were already crowded with spectators. The bailiff struck a gong calling the court to order and the prisoners were brought into the chamber and ushered to seats in the dock. There were eight: Dame Clytie Vergence, Julian Bohost, Roby Mavil, Neuel Bett, Kervin Mostick, Tammas Stirch, Torq Tump and Farganger. All except Tump and Farganger were native-born Naturalists at Stroma and members of the LPF society. All had been present at the hangar when the gunships were sent out against Yipton, and so were considered accomplices to all crimes named in the indictment. Torq Tump gave his place of origin as Smuggler’s City on Terence Dowling’s World, far off across the Reach. He spoke in a soft voice, without accent, and demonstrated no emotion: neither anger, nor dread nor humility. Farganger, however, had withdrawn into himself and refused to speak, and would not even acknowledge his own name. Unlike Tump, his face was drawn into a mask of contempt for everyone in the chamber.

  The spectators found both Torq Tump and Farganger objects of fascination. As for the other defendants, Dame Clytie Vergence, despite the mulish set to her mouth and her generally sullen demeanor, comported herself with dignity. Julian was pale, nervous and disconsolate, and clearly would have rather been a thousand light-years away. Roby Mavil slumped in his chair, his mouth drooping; apparently he had been weeping out of sheer misery and frustration. Bett seemed rueful and glanced here and there with an uncertain grin, as if inviting the spectators to join in his own sardonic amusement for the fix in which he found himself. Stirch sat in a state of morose apathy, while Kervin Mostick glared about in angry defiance.

  The bailiff announced that the accused persons sat in readiness to hear and declare themselves in reference to the charges which had been made against them, with defensive counsel at hand. “Now let the prosecutor come forward and state his indictment!”

  Elwyn Laverty, a tall thin old man with heavy brows, hollow cheeks and a long keen nose, rose to his feet. “Honorable members of the court, I will dispense with formalities. Six days ago these persons acted or conspired to act in an illicit manner: to wit, they ignited a conflagration at Lutwen Atoll which caused the death of many thousands of men, women and children. The deed is ascribed to them in this fashion. In defiance of Charter law, they imported two Straidor-Ferox gunships and concealed them in a hangar near Stroma, intending to use them against the constituted authority of the Conservancy, as defined by the Charter. If necessary, I can summon witnesses who will attest to this plot, which in itself is a capital offense. These gunships were used to perpetrate the crime of which they are accused. After their attack upon Lutwen Atoll, the gunships returned to Throy. They were followed by patrol craft operated by officers of Bureau B. Upon arrival of reinforcements, an attack upon the hangar resulted in the capture of the defendants. They were discovered in the act of boarding a small spaceship, at one time the property of Sir Denzel Attabus. These persons were taken into custody and brought to Araminta station and there incarcerated.

  “I have given a brief account of the crime, every phase of which can be proved by witness or inference. If the court needs confirmation as to any assertion I have made, I will supply it; otherwise there is no reason for me to prolong my statement.”

  High Justice Hilva Offaw spoke. “Let us hear from the accused persons. Are you guilty or not guilty as charged?”

  The defense counsel now came forward. “Honorable justices, the persons accused all declare themselves not guilty of the crime imputed to them.”

  “Indeed! Do they admit to sending the gunships to Lutwen Atoll?”

  “They agree that they sent the gunships, but they state that their crime was at worst vandalism; that they intended only to eliminate an eyesore and by this act to improve the natural charm of the environment.”

  “And the numerous inhabitants burned, drowned, or asphyxiated?”

  “There is no proof that such inhabitants existed.”

  “Interesting! How did they arrive at this conviction?”

  “Through the force and solemnity of our own laws, Your Dignity!”

  “Even more interesting! Please elaborate and, if you can, cite me the relevant statute.”

  “It is a matter of reasonable interpretation. For centuries, a firm and fixed doctrine has shaped both our laws and our thinking; this doctrine, indeed, has become the very foundation of our existence as a Conservancy. Both implicitly and explicitly, it has proscribed the habitancy of Lutwen Atoll to any and all persons. The majesty of our institutions and public respect for law makes it necessary to assume that these laws were rigorously enforced, since the idea that we are living in a lawless society is repugnant to everyone.

  “Let me reiterate: the thrust of our own statutes denies the existence of habitancy upon Lutwen Atoll. In the absen
ce of such habitancy there was no crime of the sort mentioned in the indictment, which is clearly false, prejudiced, and poorly conceived.

  “I declare that the most severe charge which can possibly be placed against the defendants is that of igniting a bonfire without a permit. To this offense the defendants plead guilty. The penalty stipulated for this offense is a fine of not more than twenty-five sols. I therefore petition the justices to fix a reasonable fine, and to allow these worthy folk to settle the matter out of hand and go about their affairs.”

  Justice Hilva Offaw said to the prosecutor. “Sir, do you care to offer a counter-argument against the compelling statement which we have just heard?”

  “No, Your Dignity. It is patently absurd.”

  “I think not, Prosecutor. There is more to the defense than appears on the surface. In a certain sense, it could be argued that not only the perpetrators of the so-called bonfire, but also every citizen of Araminta Station, living or dead, must share in this guilt.”

  “Very well, Your Dignity!” said Elwyn Laverty. “Let us consider counsel’s contention that since no person is authorized to take up habitation on Lutwen Atoll, no person has done so. In effect, the defense is pleading that since the laws of gravity forbid rocks to roll up a mountain slope, there are no rocks to be found at the top of the mountain. But no matter! For the sake of argument, let us temporarily accept the position, and agree that the defendants were entitled to expect no human population on Lutwen Atoll as they went about their campaign of beautification, and merely ignited innocent bonfires. Facts however, in the form of charred corpses prove that human beings were indeed present upon the scene of the LPF reclamation program. As to their identities, it is irrelevant. Perhaps they were picnickers from Araminta Station, visiting Lutwen Atoll for a holiday. Now, if counsel will refer to the statute controlling the ignition of bonfires, he will discover that any fire purposely set, without a permit, which results in a fatality may be considered a capital crime, depending upon circumstances. Therefore, even if the charge is merely igniting a bonfire without a permit, the penalty is still severe.”