The Best Made Plans

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  Illustrated by van Dongen]

  THE BEST MADE PLANS

  By

  EVERETT B. COLE

  Astounding Science Fiction

  _There are some people that it is extremely unwise to cross ... and the fireworks start when two such people cross each other!_

  Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding ScienceFiction, November and December, 1959. Extensive research did notreveal any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication wasrenewed.

  Don Michaels twisted about uneasily for a moment, then looked towardthe doors of the darkened auditorium. He shook his head, then returnedhis attention to the stage. Of course, he'd joined in the applause--aguy felt sort of idiotic, just sitting there while everyone else in theplace made loud noises--but that comedy act had been pretty smelly.They should have groaned instead of applauding.

  Oh, sure, he thought, the drama students had to have experience on thestage. And they really needed an audience--if they were going to haveany realism in their performances. Sure, that part of it was all right,but why did the professionals have to join the party? Why did they haveto have 'casts like that last thing--especially at a school Aud Call?It seemed anything but educational, and he'd had to skip a good classfor this one. He shrugged. Of course, everyone else had skipped oneclass or another, he knew. So why should he be an exception? Too, someof the students would welcome and applaud anything that gave them abreak from their studies. And the schedule probably took account ofthis sort of thing anyway. But....

  A fanfare interrupted his thoughts. From the backstage speakers camethe smooth rhythm of a band playing a march trio. He sat back.

  The screen glowed and became a large rectangle of blue, dotted withfleecy clouds. In the distance, the towers of Oreladar poked up from acarpet of green trees.

  Swiftly, the camera approached the city, to center for a moment on alarge sports stadium. Players dashed across the turf, then the cameraswung away. Briefly, it paused to record various city scenes, then itcrossed the walls of the Palace and came to ground level on the paradegrounds of the Royal Guards.

  A review was underway. For a few seconds, the camera held on the massedtroops, then it centered on the reviewing stand. The band modulatedsmoothly into a brilliant quickstep and a column of guards marched tocenter screen, the colors of their dress uniforms contrasting with thegreen of the perfectly kept field.

  Now, the field of view narrowed, centering the view first on the colorguard, then on the colors alone. The camera moved down till the goldand blue of Oredan's royal colors stood out against the blue sky.

  The band music faded, to be over-ridden then replaced by a smoothbaritone voice.

  "This is your news reporter," it said, "Merle Boyce, bringing you thelatest happenings of the day."

  The colors receded, their background blurring then coming into focusagain. Now, they stood before a large window. Again, the camera recededand a man appeared in the foreground. For a moment he sat at his plaindesk, gazing directly out of the screen and seeming to look searchinglyinto Don's face. Then he smiled engagingly and nodded.

  "As every citizen of Oredan knows," he said, "this nation has beenswept by a wave of terrorism during the few days past. Indeed, the nownotorious Waern affair became so serious that our Prime Minister foundit necessary to take personal command of the Enforcement Corps anddirect the search for the terrorists himself. Now, he is present, tobring to you, the people, his report of the conclusion of this terribleaffair." He paused, drawing a breath.

  "Citizen of Oredan," he declaimed slowly, "the Prime Minister, DanielStern, Prince Regent."

  He faced away from the camera and faded from view. Again, the gold andblue of Oredan filled the screen.

  There was a brief blare of trumpets. Then drums rolled and the heavybanner swept aside to reveal a tall, slender man, who approached thecamera deliberately. He glanced aside for a moment, then pinned hisaudience with an intense stare.

  "This has been a terrible experience for many of our people," he began."And it has been a harrowing time for your public officials. One of ourown--a one-time police commissioner--a man sworn to uphold law andorder, has suddenly revealed himself as a prime enemy of the realm andof our people. This in itself is a bad thing. But this was not enoughfor Harle Waern." He held out a hand, his face growing stern.

  "No, Waern was unwilling to abide by the results of a lawful trial,knowing the outcome of any full investigation into his activities, hechose to lash out further at authority and to burn his way out ofdetention. He killed some of his guards. He released other criminals.He formed them into a gang, enlisting their aid in cutting and burninghis way across our land in an obvious effort to reach the hills andpossibly stir some of the mountain clans to rebellion. And as he went,he left destruction and death." He nodded his head sadly.

  "Yes, it is painful to report, but it must be admitted that no lessthan twenty innocent people have lost their lives as a result ofWaern's actions. And many more have been injured or have sufferedproperty loss. It has been a savage affair--one we'll be long inforgetting. And it is with considerable relief that we can report itsfinal conclusion." He stepped back, then faded from view.

  * * * * *

  The screen brightened again to show a rambling white house whichnestled in a grove of shade trees. Behind it, rose a small hill whichacted as a mere step toward the peaks of high mountains beyond. Beforeit was a broad lawn, dotted with lounging furniture. Reflected in itswindows was the glow of the rising sun, which flood-lit the entirescene. From the speakers came muted sounds. An insect chirped. Hurryingfootsteps crunched on gravel. There were soft rattles and bangs, andsomewhere a motor rumbled briefly, then coughed to silence.

  "We are now," said a voice, "a few miles outside of the city ofRiandar, where Harle Waern had this summer estate built for him."

  As the announcer spoke, the camera moved about to pick out details ofthe estate. It showed a swimming pool back of the house. It swungbriefly about landscaped gardens, scanning across cultivated fields andorchards. It flicked across a winding, tree-lined road, then came backto a rough area before the smooth lawn.

  Partially concealed from the house by waving grass and field weeds, menwere moving cautiously about the fields. Near a small hummock, aloudspeaker rose from its stand, to face the house. A man lay not toofar from the base of the stand. Microphone in hand, he looked intentlythrough the grass, to study the windows of the house. Then he glancedback to note the positions of the others.

  The camera's viewpoint raised, to take in the entire scene beyond thefield. The sky blurred, then seemed to open, to show Daniel Stern'slong, thin face. He cast his eyes down for a moment, seeming to take inthe details of the scene, then stared straight at the audience, hisdeep-set eyes glowing hypnotically.

  "Here then," he said slowly, "is one of the properties which HarleWaern bought while acting as Police Commissioner of Riandar. Here is amere sample of the gains he enjoyed for a time as the price of hisdefections from his oath of office. And here is the stage he chose forthe final act, his last struggle against the nation he had betrayed."

  His face faded from view, the deep-set eyes shining from the sky for atime after the rest of the face had faded from view.

  Then the camera swung again, to show a low-slung weapons carrier whichhad pulled up a few dozen meters back of the man with the microphone.About it, the air shimmered a little, as though a filmy screen laybetween vehicle and camera. It softened the harsh lines of the carrierand its weapon, lending them an almost mys
tical appearance.

  The crew chief was clearly visible, however. He was making adjustmentson one of the instruments on the projector mount. One of the crewmembers stood by on the charge rack, busying himself with adjustmentson the charge activators. None of the crew looked toward the camera.

  The loud-speaker clicked and rasped into life.

  "Harle Waern, this is the Enforcement Corps. We know you are in there.You were seen to go into that house with your friends. You have oneminute to throw out your weapons and come out with your hands in theair. This is your last chance."

  There was another click from the loud-speaker. Then the scene wasquiet.

  Someone cleared his throat. The man with the microphone shifted hisposition and lay stretched out. He had sought cover behind the hummocknear the speaker stand and now he raised his head cautiously, to watchthe silent windows of the house. Other men lay in similar positions,their attention on the windows, their weapons