Free Scorpio Invasion by Alan Burt Akers Page A

Hamal. “Safe?” bellowed Ornol, his whiskery, leathery face creasing in enjoyment. “If she breaks down you can always get out and push.”
    Rollo closed his eyes and clung on.
    I said: “Who’s in the other voller?”
    He told me their names and I groaned. A bunch of hulus all right, tough, hard kampeons, fanatically loyal to me. Somehow or other enough of a word had got out so that these lads had flown down here. I’d have the devil of a job to persuade them not to fly with me but to go home.
    “Where are we going, jis?” demanded Loptyg from the controls.
    “For a start, Loptyg you fambly, you and all the rest are going home to Vallia. You belong in ESW and EYJ and not lollygagging about Loh.”
    An uncanny silence followed.
    They were up to a scheme, no doubt of it. The jurukkers in my Guard Corps, guardsmen of superlative worth, toughened by seasons of campaigns and a score of battles won, formed a
corps d’elite
I had not wished into existence. They had formed themselves to protect me, the Emperor of Vallia. Now I’d shuffled off that job onto Drak he had his own guards. Whatever titles might be used, the units that formed the old ESW and EYJ now considered they served me, personally, and not Drak as emperor. And, by Vox, there was nothing sensible I could do about the situation.
    They’d have to go home; I couldn’t have even this handful traipsing about Tsungfaril. Later, probably inevitably, they would be called on.
    Ornol coughed and said: “You will take us, jis? When you go adventuring?”
    I fixed him with my eye. “You know I can’t, Ornol. What are you now?” I glanced at his rank badges which are different in the emperor’s juruk from those in use in the general army. That was my attempt not to have lower ranks in a guard corps counting as higher than those in the line, a system of some dubiety. “A ley Hikdar?H’m, you’ve flown high lately.”
    “But—”
    “You are a ley Hikdar serving in the Emperor’s Yellow Jackets. Your duty lies to the emperor — the Emperor Drak. I am no longer the Emperor of Vallia.” I spoke firmly but as kindly as I could. “And how did you find out I was here?”
    “As to the second point, majister,” — suddenly very formal — “you know I cannot break faith. I can say the word slipped out as a new born babe slips into the world. As to the first point, the Emperor Drak, may Opaz have him in his keeping, has his own faithful juruk. We are your juruk. We guard you. We are EYJ — oh, and ESW, of course — and you are an emperor still, for all know the truth of the matter. You are the Emperor of Emperors, the Emperor of Paz.”
    There it was again, the idea spreading that some idiot had to take the responsibility of welding Paz together to resist the Shanks, inter alia.
    “And how do ELC and EFB feel about this?”
    “They and the other regiments may be new in the guard; they are with us.”
    “And I suppose the Empress’s Devoted Life Guard is of the same mind?”
    “With Chuktar Karidge in command, who can doubt it, jis?”
    “Well, I agree with that arrangement, at the least.”
    “So we can come with you—?”
    I breathed in and I breathed out. If this great rascal of a faithful guardsman thought I was caught in my own spring trap — for they can’t be hoist by their own petards on gunpowderless Kregen — he’d have to be proved wrong.
    “Didn’t the Lord Farris assign pilots from the Vallian Air Service?”
    Ornol suddenly looked shifty at this. I said: “By Vox! Don’t tell me you chucked ’em over the side!”
    “We wasn’t very high up, jis.” Ornol spoke defensively, and Loptyg chipped in: “Not high up at all, jis.”
    I groaned. What would Farris say about my crusty guardsmen throwing his smart young fliers over the side?
    Now I could see most of the way of it. After all, it is human nature to boast if you are confronted with comrades of a different service. Human nature, yes; but boasting and Dray Prescot parted