Scorpio Invasion by Alan Burt Akers Page A

Runner. I knew that wheezy voice.
    “Deb-Lu!”
    Rollo sat there, at ease, and Deb-Lu-Quienyin spoke to me through the lad.
    He told me that there had been a right old furore. The two Air Service pilots were bruised but unharmed, and mighty rueful over their folly. All Vondium was buzzing with the business. “But, Jak, I do not think you will be over pleased about the outcome.”
    “I can guess,” I groaned.
    “Yes. They have been most insistent. The emperor has ordered that all of your Guard Corps who wish may volunteer.”
    “That means the whole flaming lot!”
    “Of course.” The cracked old voice, speaking to me over the miles and miles from distant Vallia, sparked with amusement.
    Deb-Lu told me that Drak was content to keep his own guards. The name changes were insignificant. The PMSW — the Prince Majister’s Sword Watch — would remain as a regiment for Drak’s son — when he was born. The guardsmen forming the current PMSW had all volunteered into the new emperor’s regiment, First Emperor’s Red Jackets. At least, that solved some of the problems.
    Deb-Lu went on to fill in some of the details I needed to know concerning the state of play in those parts of Kregen of immediate interest. The problem of Pandahem was being dealt with, as you shall hear in due time. My good comrade Gloag, who ran Strombor for me, hailed from the island of Mehzta. That island was under savage attack from the Shanks. Gloag, although fully assimilated into Strombor, felt he ought to take an expeditionary force to help out his birthplace. I could understand that.
    “Tell Gloag to take what he wants from Strombor, always remembering to leave forces enough at home. He can contact Hap Loder. He’ll lap up a chance like this. And the Clansmen ought to scare the Shanks!”
    “Very well. I have no news of Delia. Seg and Inch are about affairs of state, Turko is thinking of marrying—”
    “One day!”
    Deb-Lu laughed. “Thinking of marrying off some of his people—”
    “Oh!”
    There was other news. Presently I said: “And, Deb-Lu — what of Khe-Hi and Ling-Li? I heard about the twins.”
    “They thrive. Khe-Hi is busy on a scheme we are concocting. I’ll keep you informed. Communication has Substantially Eased.”
    There was a little more gossip. I finished by saying: “This bright rapscallion, Ra-Lu-Quonling — he calls himself Rollo the Runner — flunked his exams. Would you take him on?”
    “With pleasure. I sense in him great potential. He just needs — as you would claim they say in Clishdrin — To Get His Act Together.”
    “Thank you, Deb-Lu. I think he’ll turn out all right.”
    Rollo the Runner shifted, let out a breath, and stretched.
    “You have finished, Drajak, satisfactorily?”
    “Thank you, Rollo. That was courteous of you.” I told him what was proposed for his future. “Deb-Lu is a fine man and a very potent sorcerer. You couldn’t do better.”
    “As to that, I’d rather go adventuring with you as a Bowman of Loh.”
    “You as well!” I sighed. “It’s not on, lad. Where I’m going is highly unhealthy.”
    For, as I’m sure you have already anticipated, I knew what my next steps must be and where I was going. And, by Krun, unhealthy it was!
    “I don’t see why,” he began rebelliously. All that condescension I’d detected in him when we’d first met broke through again. “After all, I did save all your skins through my knowledge, did I not?”
    “You did and we all give you thanks. But what lies ahead is—”
    “Worse than a shuckerchun?”
    “Far worse.”
    He remained silent.
    A hint of his earlier disdain still persisted as, after a space, he said: “It does not need a genius to guess you are going up against these Shanks. I have heard the rumors. Are the Fish Heads, then, so terrible?”
    I fixed him with my eye. “Yes.”
    He caught his breath. People who live far inland have to be educated where the sea and sailormen’s ways are concerned. Once they have been