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Despoilers Of The Golden Empire
by
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The commander needed information–needed it badly. He had to know what the government of the alien empire was doing. Had they been warned of his arrival? Surely they must have, and yet they had taken no steps to impede his progress.
For this purpose, he decided to set up headquarters on an island just offshore in the Great Bay. It was a protected position, easily defended from assault, and the natives, he knew from his previous visit, were friendly.
They even helped him to get his men and equipment and the carriers across on huge rafts.
From that point, he began collecting the information he needed to invade the central domains of the Greatest Noble himself. It seemed an ideal spot–not only protection-wise, but because this was the spot he had originally picked for the landing of the ship. The vessel, which had returned to the base for reinforcements and extra supplies, would be aiming for the Great Bay area when she came back. And there was little likelihood that atmospheric disturbances would throw her off course again; Captain Bartholomew was too good a man to be fooled twice.
But landing on that island was the first–and only–mistake the commander made during the campaign. The rumors of internal bickerings among the Great Nobles of the barbarian empire were not the only rumors he heard. News of more local treachery came to his ears through the agency of natives, now loyal to the commander, who had been indoctrinated into the philosophy of the Assembly.
A group of native chieftains had decided that the invading Earthmen were too dangerous to be allowed to remain on their island, in spite of the fact that the invaders had done them no harm. There were, after all, whisperings from the north, whence the invaders had come, that the armored beings with the terrible weapons had used their power more than once during their march to the south. The chieftains were determined to rid their island of the potential menace.
As soon as the matter was brought to the commander’s attention, he acted. He sent out a patrol to the place where the ringleaders were meeting, arrested them, and sentenced them to death. He didn’t realize what effect that action would have on the rest of the islanders.
He almost found out too late.
XI
“There must be three thousand of them out there,” said Lieutenant commander Hernan tightly, “and every one of them’s crazy.”
“Rot!” The commander spat on the ground and then sighted again along the barrel of his weapon. “I’m the one who’s crazy. I’m a lousy politician; that’s my trouble.”
The lieutenant commander shrugged lightly. “Anyone can make a mistake. Just chalk it up to experience.”
“I will, when we get out of this mess.” He watched the gathering natives through hard, slitted eyes.
The invading Earthmen were in a village at the southern end of the eight-mile-long island, waiting inside the mud-brick huts while the natives who had surrounded the village worked themselves into a frenzy for an attack. The commander knew there was no sense in charging into them at that point: they would simply scatter and reassemble. The only thing to do was wait until they attacked–and then smash the attack.
“Hernan,” he said, his eyes still watching the outside, “you and the others get out there with the carriers after the first volley. Cut them down. They’re twenty-to-one against us, so make every blow count. Move.”
Hernan nodded wordlessly and slipped away.
The natives were building up their courage with some sort of war dance, whooping and screaming and making threatening gestures toward the embattled invaders. Then the pattern of the dance changed; the islanders whirled to face the mud-brick buildings which housed the invading Earthmen. Suddenly, the dance broke, and the warriors ran in a screaming charge, straight for the trapped soldiers.