the village lay in a cup-shaped valley. the main street was also a direct highway out of thanlar. on either side of the highway, the farmer's fields stretched, checkered brown and green, to the foothills. the entire valley was not more than a mile wide, and the fields extended only a quarter of a mile on either side of the main road. the foothills added another quarter of a mile, and then, abruptly, the mountains started.

though one of the principal highways to thanlar, the main street was fairly narrow, bordered closely on either side by the small business district, composed mostly of single story buildings constructed out of native lumber from the hills.

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; except for the spasmodic attacks of the revolution underground, the colonies were submissive enough, and the precautions taken were in the nature of routine.

it looked to be easy, wolf thought wryly. 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."

"how many can you get me that will obey me without question, no matter what?"

joseph carroll tugged absently at his ear. finally, he shrugged. "perhaps five," he said. "including myself."

"all right," sighed wolf. "it will have to be that way, then. but the others can be depended on 'within reason?'"

"yes," carroll said. "do not expect too much. they do not like this business."

"neither do you," wolf said. "but you count yourself among the five trustworthy."

carroll didn't answer, and wolf took his silence as a declaration of faith.

"all right," he said. "leave me now. at sunset, bring your men to me, all of them. i will work out the attack."

"very well," said carroll, and started to leave.

"joseph," said wolf softly, and the older man turned at the door.

"what is it?"

"what about daimya?"

"what about her?"

"where will she be during—this attack?"

"at home, i expect," said carroll. "where she belongs."

wolf toyed for a moment with the map that lay before him.

"joseph," he said. "what will happen to the village?"

"you don't know?" asked carroll in surprise.

"no," wolf admitted. "i have never stayed behind."

carroll laughed bitterly. "one of two things," he said. "they will either demolish it from the air, including the populace, or they will put everyone in one of the forced labor camps." 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."

"i suppose not," wolf mused. "perhaps by then—"

"you really believe you're going to succeed in overthrowing the federation, don't you?"

"i must," said wolf. "without that, all this—" he gestured to the map before him, traced with arrows, notations, ideas, "—is meaningless slaughter."

"so it seems," carroll said flatly.

"joseph," said wolf suddenly. "with luck, there will be a ship waiting for me in the mountains when i've—finished here."

"that's your good fortune," carroll said grimly.

"will you come with me?"

"and join the revolutionaries?"

"you—and daimya."

carroll considered it slowly. "no," he said finally. "not i. i have gotten my people into this, i must stay with them. all were against it when you first contacted us. all but me. it is my fault. i have to stay with them."

wolf felt a sudden surge of affection for the old man. reluctant he might be, but he knew what he was doing and he knew the consequences and was willing to accept them.

"and daimya?"

"that is a different matter," said carroll. "it is not right that she should suffer for her father's folly."

or that a father should suffer for his son's folly, thought wolf. but he said nothing.

"you would take her?" carroll asked.

"if i am—able," said wolf.

"all right," said the old man. "i will see to it. better she should be alive than dead. that is all that matters."