Don Berry

“ Do you know what happens to the money you pay the Terran Federation in taxes?"
"No," admitted Carroll. "No one has dared ask."
Wolf laughed. "And yet they say the Federation is a republic? When the citizen does not dare ask what happens to the taxes that are ground out of him? I'll tell you, my friend Joseph. It is used for administration. Simply that. Administration of a space empire is an expensive project, and you must pay for it. It costs a great deal of money, our treasured Empire. ”

“ Quietly, Wolf edged forward to the street, automatically noting that his men were doing the same. Several of the guards had turned, were running back toward the source of the excitement, and others were turned toward it. But those around Mayne Landing had not responded. They were keeping their eyes fixed on the crowd. They were too well trained to be drawn off, and Wolf cursed under his breath. ”

“ The air was cool, a slight breeze ruffled the fields around the village. As the sun rose higher in the sky, it glinted sharply from the towers of Thanlar.
It had been impossible to keep the entire operation a secret from the villagers. They knew something was to happen, and they knew it concerned the inspection trip of Mayne Landing to the village. ”

“ The farmer made a small gesture of resignation.
"I didn't know," Wolf said, almost under his breath. Can I be responsible for that?
"They don't like Colonists cooperating with the revolutionaries," Carroll continued. "Did you expect they exempted us all from our taxes as a reward?"
"No," Wolf said. "But I didn't know it was so—complete."
"They are thorough," the old man shrugged. "Any village where an incident occurs is made an example. Before long, you people will not find much welcome in the Colonies." ”

“ She had large eyes, slightly almond shaped, that regarded him solemnly as she gave the information she had gathered.
"He will come to inspect this village in two days," she said. "He will visit four farms, picked at random, and then there will be a procession down the main street."
"That would be our time," Wolf mused. "Crowds about."
"Some will be killed," Daimya objected. "His guards will not take this thing lightly."
"I am sorry," Wolf said sincerely. "It is our best chance of success."
Daimya shrugged. "You are the killer, not I," she said, with obvious distaste. ”

“ The easiest of them all, since the planet was fairly distant from the scene of previous underground operations.
They wouldn't be expecting it, he thought. Down the main street in procession, the Administrator standing in the little ground car, smiling and waving to his subjects, genial, effusive. And then—
"Joseph," said Wolf suddenly. "How many men can I depend on?"
"Perhaps thirty," said the farmer. "Perhaps a few more."
"Are they completely dependable?"
"Within reason," said Carroll. "They are farmers, not soldiers. Plows are more familiar to them than guns." ”

“ Wolf felt an impulse to explain, to justify, to make this slight girl see that he hated this. Angrily he fought it down.
It doesn't matter what she thinks, he told himself. It doesn't matter. What matters is to get the job done and get out. That's all.
"Tell me," Daimya said curiously, "how do you come to be mixed up in a thing like this? You don't act like a hired killer."
Wolf laughed shortly. "No," he said. "I'm an amateur. I was a Captain of the Security Patrol once. My whole family was in Federation Service, as a matter of fact. ”

“ Wolf decided the center of the business district would offer the most concealment. Any group of men at any other place would be viewed with suspicion by Mayne Landing's bodyguards, and their chances would be proportionately diminished.
It remained to determine the most effective weapon. Explosive? No, too many villagers would be killed. Yet that would certainly be the most certain way, a grenade thrown from the roof of one of the low buildings. He wondered how thoroughly the Administrator's men would check the village before the procession.
Joseph Carroll told him the check was cursory ”

“ The farmers had probably learned long ago not to show too much interest in any stranger who suddenly appeared from nowhere.
He came into the village and walked quickly to the faded wooden sign that announced, TAILOR. Entering the little shop, more a general dry-goods store than a tailor, he moved to the rear, to a small counter. No one was there, and he rang the bell on the counter.
After a moment, a man appeared, hastily buttoning a tunic, his hair still tousled, sleep in his eyes.
"Yes, yes? What is it? You are too early."
"My apologies, old man," said the raider. ”

“ Peaceful in the early light, calm. There were a few people moving about the streets, probably farmers early on their way to the fields. It was a pastoral scene, like something he had read in a book a long time ago. ”