Maxim shook his head, jerked open the jammed rear door, and ordered Vepr to get in.
Maxim walked around the car and sat down beside Strannik. The car lurched, then wobbled along the expressway.
“What are you planning to do now?” asked Strannik.
“Hold on,” said Maxim. “At least tell me who you are.”
“I’m an agent of the Galactic Security Council,” replied Strannik bitterly. “I’ve been here five years. We’ve been laying the groundwork for an important operation; we’re trying to save this planet. We’ve been planning thoroughly, taking into consideration all possible consequences. All! Do you understand? Then you came along. Who the hell are you to stick your nose into other people’s affairs and mess up everything, set off explosions? Who do you think you are?”
“How was I supposed to know?” Maxim’s voice fell.
“You knew damn well that independent intervention was forbidden. As a member of the Independent Reconnaissance Unit, you should have known. Back on Earth your mother is going out of her mind with worry, your girlfriends keep phoning, your father quit his job. What the hell were you going to do?”
“Shoot you,” replied Maxim.
“What?”
The car swerved sharply.
“Yes,” said Maxim submissively. “What else could I have done? I was told that you were responsible for all the evil I saw.”
“And that wasn’t so hard to believe, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Well, all right. Then what were you planning to do?”
“A revolution was supposed to begin.”
“For whose benefit?”
“Well, with the Center destroyed and no more radiation, I thought that...”
“You thought what?”
“That they would understand at once that they were being oppressed, that their lives were miserable, and that they would revolt.”
“Why would they revolt?” said Strannik sadly. “Who would revolt? The Creators are alive and thriving; the Legion is intact and unharmed; the army is mobilized, and the country is at war. What were you counting on?”
Maxim bit his lip. Of course he could tell Strannik about his plans and goals, but it would be pointless since nothing was ready and everything had turned out this way...
“It’s up to them to take care of the rest.” Maxim pointed over his shoulder to Vepr. “This man, for example. Let him take over. My job was to give them the opportunity to do the planning themselves.”
“Your job,” muttered Strannik, “was to stay put until I caught you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
“You will return to Earth today!” commanded Strannik.
“I don’t think I will,” replied Maxim.
“You will return to Earth today!” Strannik raised his voice. “I’ve enough trouble on this planet without you. Pick up your Rada and clear out.”
“Do you have Rada?”
“Yes. She’s alive and well. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you for taking care of her,” said Maxim. “I’m very grateful to you.”
The car rolled into the city. The main street was jammed with weaving, honking cars, and reeked of exhaust fumes. Strannik turned into a side street and passed through the slums. Everything was dead here. On street corners military police in combat helmets, hands clasped behind their backs, stuck up like lamp posts. The reaction to events had been very rapid here: a general alarm had been sounded, and everyone was at his station as soon as he recovered from the depression strike. “Maybe I blew up the Center too soon. Maybe I should have stuck to the prosecutor’s plan? No, massaraksh! It’s just as well. Let them figure out for themselves what’s what.” Strannik turned onto the main thoroughfare again. Vepr tapped Strannik on the shoulder gently with his pistol. “Please drop me off. Over there. Where those people are standing.”
Beside a newsstand five figures huddled, their hands thrust deep inside the pockets of their long gray raincoats. The sidewalks were deserted. Apparently, the depression strike had frightened people badly and sent them scurrying for cover.
“What are your plans?” asked Strannik, slowing down.
“To breathe the fresh air,” replied Vepr. “The weather is exceptionally beautiful today.”
“He’s one of us,” Maxim explained to Vepr. “Feel free to say anything you want.”
The car stopped by the shoulder. The raincoated figures retreated cautiously behind the newsstand and peered out.
“One of us?” Vepr raised his eyebrows.
Maxim looked at Strannik awkwardly, but Strannik made no attempt to help him.
“I believe you, Mac,” said Vepr. “We must get to work on the staff now. That’s where we must begin. You know what I’m talking about. There are people on it who must be removed before they dominate the movement.”
“Good thinking,” muttered Strannik. “By the way, I think I know you. You are Tik Fesku, alias Vepr. Am I right?”
“Yes, you are. Mac, get to work on the Creators. It’s a tough job, but right up your alley. Where can I get in touch with you?”
“Hold on, Vepr, I almost forgot,” said Maxim. “In a few hours the entire country will be knocked out by radiation deprivation. Everyone will be completely helpless.”
“Everyone?” Vepr was dubious.
“Everyone except the degens. You will have to take advantage of those few days.”
Vepr thought about it.
“That’s great if it’s true. Then we’ll get to the degens at once. Where can I reach you?”
Maxim didn’t have time to reply.
“Same phone number as before,” said Strannik. “Same place. Now, here’s what you must do. Organize your committee. Revive the organization that existed under the Empire. Some of your people work for me at the institute. Massaraksh! We don’t have enough time or people. Damn you, Maxim!”
“The main thing,” said Vepr, placing a hand on Maxim’s shoulder, “is that the Center is gone. You’ve done a great job, Mac. Thanks.” He squeezed Mac’s shoulder, and dangling his artificial arm, climbed from the car clumsily.
The car darted forward. Maxim glanced back. Vepr was standing in a cluster of men in gray raincoats, talking to them and waving his pistol with his good arm. The men remained impassive. They didn’t understand yet. Or didn’t believe.
The street was deserted. Armored trucks filled with legionnaires rolled toward them. Up ahead, where the road turned into the institute, vehicles had already straddled the road, and men in black were pouring from them. A revoltingly familiar bright yellow patrol car, equipped with a long telescopic antenna, appeared among the column of armored trucks.
“Massaraksh,” muttered Maxim. “I completely forgot about them.”
“You seem to have forgotten about a lot of things,” said Strannik. “You forgot about the mobile emitters; you forgot about the Island Empire; you forgot about economics. Do you know that the country is about to collapse, economically? That it’s threatened by famine? That the soil is not producing? Do you know that you failed to set aside grain reserves and medical supplies? Do you know that your radiation deprivation will lead to insanity in twenty percent of the cases?” He wiped his forehead with his palm. “We need doctors, twelve thousand of them. We need protein synthesizers. We must, for a beginning, decontaminate one hundred million acres of contaminated soil. We must halt the deterioration of the biosphere. Massaraksh, we need at least one Earthling on the Islands. Our own people can’t hold out there; they can’t even give us a clear picture of what’s going on.”
Maxim said nothing. They approached the roadblock. A strangely familiar stocky officer moved toward them, waving his hand, and demanded to see their documents. Strannik thrust a shiny badge under his nose. The officer saluted glumly and glanced at Maxim. It was Captain... no, not Captain, but Brigadier Chachu of the Fighting Legion!
“Is this man with you, your excellency?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m in a hurry. Order them to let me through at once.”