"We better make some contingency plans in case we win," said Makhno.
"Make that when we win, Leo," said Jane gently.
"Okay, when we win. What are we going to do then? Docktown will still be in, uh, enemy hands."
"Continue the boycott." Jane shrugged. "We can set up our own trade-spots along the river, tell our friends . . . ."
"That'll be rough on the people in Docktown."
"Rougher on the gangsters."
"We must kill them all, you know." Van Damm spoke up.
Makhno turned to give him a long look. "I'd be interested in hearing your reasons, Owen."
"This planet has no prison," Van Damm explained carefully. "No police, not even any courts. That is why you have this problem in the first place. You have no protection from thugs and crooks, and that is why you must kill them."
"How does that follow?" Jane asked, studying him.
"It follows that you cannot punish the thugs with prison, nor force them to pay just compensation, nor even exile them," Van Damm went on. "If you drive them out into the wilds, they will band together, and raid farms for subsistence. If you leave them alive in town they will try to invade again, sooner or later. You have to kill them, the ones that take part in the raid, who know the way here and see what valuables you have."
"We know we can't let them get away to tell that the land of women' really exists," Jane said levelly. "That will just make us targets again. But why should we go after the thugs left in Docktown?"
"Likewise, to keep them from trying for you again. Also, you cannot boycott Docktown forever. Sooner or later you will need the off-world goods available only there. You cannot leave Docktown in the hands of the enemy."
"True," Brodski noted. "But remember, there just aren't that many Bad Guys. The whole population of Docktown isn't more than a thousand people. There's only a limited amount of the 'crook' mentality to recruit there, and Jomo brought a big chunk of them on this trip. I say we should send some kind of message to whoever Jomo left behind, see if we can't scare them into behaving themselves."
"Are you sure that there is someone left behind?" asked Jane. "Wouldn't he bring his whole force to attack us here?"
"Jomo's greedy, not stupid. He must have left some sort of garrison to hold what gains he made. I read him for wanting the whole planet. Since he can't take the Harmonies yet with the kind of strength he has, he turned to finding a fort to build up his forces-or, thanks to your boycott, to hunt for food. He plans to come out and take on Castell eventually, but he needs a base first."
"We know that too. So how do we keep the garrison troops from coming after us again?"
"We send whoever the second-in-command is a message he can't ignore." Brodski grinned. "At the same time we arm the Docktowners with all the weapons we capture. I've noticed that, aside from the stunners, the firearms they have are mostly pistols of different calibers, probably stuff they brought with them. Ammo for them will be something of a problem, but in the hands of the Docktowners they can let folks defend themselves and deal with the Baddies themselves."
"We could even sell ammo. . . ." Jane considered.
"And if the CoDo comes in, cleaning up Docktown will give their security force something to do," added Van Damm.
"So we're obliged to carry the war to Docktown," said Makhno. "Ah, what the hell, you've got my vote." He turned his attention to the tan light showing through the window. "Right now it's technical midnight," he murmured, "Cat's Eye's waxing and setting. That means . . ." He doodled briefly in the margin of the map on the table before him. ". . . they've got to get here within twenty hours, start the assault soon after, win within forty, forty-three hours after that. So, we've got maybe sixty hours to settle this war, Jane."
"Why the time limit?" she asked, wiping a spot of grease off her chin.
"Because after that we'll be into second orbit, sunset, and turned away from Cat's Eye. Full night for forty-plus hours, remember? No light but the moons. Even Jomo has better sense than to attack unknown territory, in the dark."
Jane nodded slowly. "Right. So, sixty hours against . . . what, forty men? That means we have to kill roughly one every hour and a half."
"Uh, right," said Makhno. Van Damm and Brodski traded startled looks.
"Well, if we're agreed in this, I'm for bed," said Jane. "Coming, Leo?"
Makhno laughed, and shoved his chair back. Brodski and Van Damm looked at each other again.
"Y'know, Owen," Brodski considered, "we're gonna have to start seriously courting some of the ladies around here."
"I think," said Van Damm, shoving his plate aside, "that as soon as Captain Makhno is out of bed, we should have him take us back to our posts on the shore."
Jomo glowered at the passing island shore, scarcely noticing the grumblings of the troops on the deck behind him. Greenthorn hedges everywhere he looked: from the waterline on up for five meters at least, nothing but greenthorns. How had the pesky settler ever gotten through them?
Well, with luck maybe the settler was long gone and they could take the island cheaply. If greenthorns were the only problem, he wouldn't complain. There were no signs of any human habitation so far.
Whoa, there was something: just as they came around the southern tip of the island, where a natural jetty of rock jabbed out into the river, dividing the stream. There was a piece of pontoon-dock pulled up on shore, almost hidden under the hedge of greenthorns.
Strange. Why had the settler done that? Expecting company, maybe?
Jomo shrugged and gave up on the minor mystery. They were coming around to the shadowy western shore of the island now, and he'd have to keep his eyes peeled if he wanted to spot anything in all these shadows.
The western shore of the island was likewise edged with greenthorns from the waterline to about five meters up.
"Where can we anchor?" Jomo grumbled to the pilot. "Can't see a motherless thing in this light."
"Best pull into the lee of the north shore," the pilot noted. "Looks pretty steep; probably nothing'll attack us in the dark. We can wait mere 'til sunrise."
"Fine. Do it." Jomo walked back to his personal cabin to get some sleep. He'd look at the map after a good rest.
"I don't believe it," Makhno whispered, peering down from the ledge. "The fool's just sitting mere, waiting for daylight. I swear, those sentries never look up. We could lob one of the mines down on the boat from here, blow it to kingdom come . . . ."
"We might not get them all. Then all they'd have to do is reach Docktown, come back in greater numbers."
"Okay, okay, so we wait. Damn." Makhno eased back on the ledge until his spine touched the rock wall of the capstone-fortress. "I just don't like the idea of letting 'em walk in here tomorrow."
"Just remember," said Jane, stroking his arm, "the important thing is that they never walk out again."
"Is everybody in place?"
Brodski glanced meaningfully at his radio. "That's what they said. So now we wait." He stretched out behind the log and pulled his hat down over his eyes.
In the dim light of the moons, Captain Feinberg crept softly across the deck of the Last Resort. It was dark, it was late, the sentries were nodding off at their stations, and he'd never have a better chance to escape than this. Just a few more steps to the gunwales, then over the side, then-
Then the zap of a stunner ripped out of the silence. Feinberg jumped, jerked, and flopped to the deck.
Jomo, smothering a yawn, strolled out of the shadows. The sentries straightened up and did their best to look as if they'd been giving Feinberg only enough lead to condemn himself. Jomo favored them with barely a sneer. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Feinberg's body.
"Pick up that garbage," he said. "And throw it over the side."
The sentries paused for only a moment, then hastened to comply.