Mission: Earth "Disaster" (16 page)

"It's the lady, isn't it, sir?" said Faht Bey. "She seems awfully anxious to get home, and I don't blame her a bit, after all she's been through."

"No," said Heller, "it isn't just the lady. My job here appears to be done and I want to get my report in as soon as possible. His Majesty and the Lords should know what is going on. Something smells."

"I quite agree, sir. I've thought it for years. Link, the repair chief, just told me that the tug will be ready by sunset. What last minute orders do you have for me?"

"Well, all right," said Heller. "Let's start with those three old freighters over there." He pointed across the hangar where three battered hulks about the size of the Blixo had been shunted long ago against the wall and stood festooned with litter and dust. "I was into them this morning, and with some work they will still fly. Get them fully operational."

"That shouldn't take long," said Faht Bey.

"Now, any freighters coming in here should simply be stopped and held. Do not permit them to load drugs or depart."

Faht Bey visibly shuddered. "They'll object."

"Look," said Heller. "When I get home, I will report this whole matter to His Majesty or other authorities and tell them what I have done and why. In such cases it is just a formality: Nobody really cares much what happens on an unconquered planet. They almost always back up combat engineers in matters of creating or taking over bases. In any case, you have my appointment in writing and I promise you faithfully that if anything goes wrong I will bail you out."

"That's good enough for me, sir," said Faht Bey. "You see, I and most of my men here hate handling drugs. Have you noticed that none of us take them? They're pretty awful!"

"Amen to that," said Heller. "I've had some experience with how they ruin people."

"There is another thing," said Faht Bey. "What will we do with these criminals whose identities we are supposed to change?"

"Well, a promise is a promise," said Heller. "You don't need enemies. Finish them up. Just don't accept any more."

"Good," said Faht Bey. "Can you give me a hint as to what the operating policy of this base should be?"

"Make friends," said Heller. "Get Earth doctors trained fast in disease eradication. Get Prahd to pass on what he knows about drug rehabilitation. Help the farmers around here to shift their crops over to something less deadly."

Faht Bey was laughing. "You mean actually run the school?"

"Why not?" said Heller. "Of course, the Fleet or His Majesty may have other orders for you. They may even order you to evacuate the place. Who knows? But it's best to let the future take care of itself."

"Sir," said Faht Bey, "we'd leave this desolate plateau in a minute if we had the chance."

"Well, life is never all sweetbuns and pink sparklewater. At least someday you can go home."

"Thanks to you, Officer Heller. You've been a breath of life itself. I and all my men will bless you to the day we die."

I almost vomited at this praise of that (bleeped) Heller. And as to the day they died, I'd come back here with a Death Battalion and make that as soon as possible!

I began to think of all the rotten things Heller had done that I now had to undo. Just knocking out his microwave-power unit was no longer enough. Yes, one could bomb Ochokeechokee and Detroit and the Empire State Building. But that probably wouldn't be enough. In addition to a Death Battalion to handle this base, I would have to requisition an Apparatus Flying Raid Squadron, obliterate all existing military bases and—those that refused to capitulate—seats of government. It would not have to be a major invasion, for we had a puppet potential.

I could just see Rockecenter now. There he was, all ragged and forlorn, huddling in an alley amongst the garbage cans, and I would come up to him, splendid in a full-dress Voltar uniform, flanked by good criminal Apparatus aides, and I would say, "Delbert, do you remember me?"

He would gasp and grovel and say, "Good God! Inkswitch, my family spi!"

I would say, "No less, Rockie, old boy. I've come to put you back on the throne of Earth, the place from which you fell."

And he would be babbling his gratitude while an aide supported his head to give him water and another bathed his wounds.

Then together, arm in arm, we would walk forth, deaf to the piteous screams of the maimed and dying, and treat the riffraff to a holocaust the like of which had never been seen before.

And out of the gutters that ran with blood, Miss Pinch's pale hand would rise up and she would cry, "Forgive me, Inkswitch! Forgive me, for I did not know. ..."

Somebody was shaking me.

"Wake up." It was Heller's voice. "Get in the tug. The sun is setting and we are leaving for Voltar within the hour."

I smiled. That was all I needed to make my dream come true.

Aboard the speeding tug, for three solid days, I lay strapped down in a gimbal bed. It was sheer torture: The Will-be Was time drives were roaring flat-out for the first half of the trip, driving us to the brink of extinction, and roaring flat-out for the last half of the trip, braking us down. Sparks were flying off everything, and amidst the crackle and din, one didn't know from one minute to the next whether the vessel would blow up. I hate space travel, and especially in that (bleeped) tug.

The cabin I occupied was to starboard and immediately aft of the bridge, and every time the door opened, I craned my neck to see if anyone was on watch. The Countess Krak, dressed in a black spark-insulator suit, had come in from time to time to feed me and check my bonds, and never once had I seen anybody in a pilot chair. My whole conclusion : was that I was not only in the hands of speed maniacs but that they were also insane. There are all kinds of things to run into between stars and, I had to conclude, they had simply left it up to the robot tug to avoid them. It put me on the verge of a nervous breakdown, complete with froth.

But now the Will-be Was drives had died and we were on planetary auxiliaries, slowing down even more for the last small part of the trip.

The Countess Krak came into my cabin wearing an ordinary powder-blue space coverall. She gave me some hot food and was about to leave.

I said, "I'm going crazy in here."

She shrugged. "All right. I'll leave the door open." That was all the sympathy I got. But she did prop it back. Heller, now that there wasn't any danger or need of watchfulness, was sitting in the planetary-pilot chair. The Countess Krak sat down in the now-unused star-pilot chair. "How many miles to go?"

He didn't answer and she had to repeat the question.

"Oh, not too long. Only a few thousand miles," said Heller. "We'll shortly cross the outer defense perimeter of Voltar."

"You seem very pensive," said the Countess Krak.

"Well, yes. I was thinking of your safety. You are still a nonperson, you know. I wish to put you in a hiding place before I officially report back in."

"Do you think that is necessary?" she said.

"Well, I'll be frank," said Heller. "This whole mission started in a very peculiar way. They made me a prisoner in Spiteos. And after the attacks by the Apparatus assassin pilots I have been sort of leery of the whole thing. Fleet Intelligence Officer Bis and I decided to go through with it and see if we could find out what the Apparatus was up to. And I did find a secret base that nobody knew about but the Apparatus, and probably very few of them. But I don't have the whole story. There could be fireworks and I don't want you in the middle of it, not with your status. Why, I don't even know what's going on right this minute in Voltar."

"Are we in Homeview range?" said Krak. "Maybe we could learn something from a news broadcast."

He switched one of his screens to domestic bands and Home-view music came in. I was being very alert indeed. I had not known that he and Fleet Intelligence had been suspicious. I had the sudden sensation that my enemies had multiplied. I suddenly recalled the awful threat Fleet officers had made to me at their club concerning what they'd do if anything happened to Jettero Heller. The stupid fools made an idol of this man simply because he had been a racing pilot and an athlete and had done more than fifty volunteer missions. So he was a Fleet hero. Well, Lombar Hisst, as Apparatus Chief, was a man of sense. He hated the Fleet, he hated Heller personally, and he wasn't a man to be checked by a little undeserved popularity. He'd make short work of Heller. My job was to get Heller into his hands. Suddenly I was distracted from my problems by an announcer saying, "And now it is our privilege to give you a replay of a selection from a popular musical of Hightee Heller, the darling of the spaceways, the sweetheart of billions of adoring fans."

Hightee Heller, Jettero's sister, reputed to be the most beautiful woman in the 110 planets of the Voltar Confederacy, came on the screen.

Back of her was a large ensemble of dancers and a chorus.

She sang "Bold Prince Caucalsia" and the company got on a silly-looking boat and sailed off into the sky. Heller and Krak, the silly idiots, both applauded her just as though she could hear them.

"Well," said Heller, "I've still got a family, anyway."

"You'll have a bigger one if we can get things straightened out," said the Countess.

"That's why I must play the return so carefully," said Heller. "Nothing bad must happen to you. Here's the news."

There were some shots of a park being dedicated on some planet, then a discovery of a new species of bird on Flisten and some other like items.

A shot of some tanks being flown across a mammoth river came on. The announcer said, "Rebel forces on the planet Calabar have been under heavy pressure during the past week from new Apparatus units recently flown into the area." It was followed by a shot of an officer who looked upset. "Army Corps Commander Zog has been deposed for his failures to make progress against the rebels."

The Army corps commander said, "The adherents of the rebellious Prince Mortiiy have the advantage of an unknown number of bases throughout the hundred-thousand-foot mountain ranges of Calabar. These peaks are honeycombed with caves. It has been my consistent opinion that massive frontal assaults are far too costly. I am tendering my resignation to the Lord of the Army Division."

The announcer said, "A spokesman for the Lord of the Army stated today that the court martial of Zog is a certainty. The Grand Council deplores the fact that this rebellion is now entering its fifth year and has taken its suppression out of the hands of the Army and turned it over to the Exterior Division Apparatus forces." Lord Endow came on, dribbling and drooling a bit, reading a prepared statement nearsightedly. "It is time we... er... ended... ah... this unseemly... well... irrational adherence to the Prince Mortiiy. ... Er... well... we just can't go on countenancing... yes, countenancing... a whole planet's population insisting on supporting ... er... hmmm... Prince Mortiiy. I am proud... happy? No... elated?—what this word here?" An Apparatus officer came on suddenly. "Lord Endow wishes to state that he is determined to kill the enthusiasm of the population for Prince Mortiiy with fire and lightning and put a rapid end to this revolt."

"Well, well," said Heller. "So they pulled the Army off the lines there and the Fleet is not participating. Those Apparatus 'drunks' will just begin systematic looting. Calabar's a nice planet, you know—fantastic scenery. I was there once as a cadet and we couldn't get over how big everything was. And how beautiful."

"The women, too?" said the Countess.

Heller laughed. "None like you, darling."

He wouldn't be laughing, I told myself smugly, if he knew that his influential friend on the Royal staff, Captain Tars Roke, had been demoted and removed to Calabar.

My thoughts, however, began to wander, for it seemed the Apparatus was taking a pretty large role. Intended for matters exterior to the confederacy, originally, it was taking an internal role more heavily than ever. It must be getting large increases of men and equipment, for it had never been very big. Being its chief was going to be a pretty large job.

There were some other news items and then the announcer said, "Concern for the health of His Majesty, Cling the Lofty– Long Live His Majesty and the Voltar Dominions—was greatly diminished today by the optimistic announcement by his spokesman, Lombar Hisst, that with plenty of rest he can be expected to survive many years."

"Hold it!" said Heller. "What is this? Lombar Hisst—a spokesman for Cling the Lofty?"

"That's impossible!" said the Countess Krak. "Hisst is just a gutter rat! He isn't a nobleman! He's violating court protocol. I know! I had a lot of time to read that Compendium. That function should be performed by the Lord of Empire."

"There is something wrong," said Heller.

I seethed. My whole stake lay in getting him to an Apparatus base. Confound those Homeview people for arousing their suspicions! I knew that Lombar had control of things. But they mustn't!

"Dear," said Heller, "maybe you'd better talk to the prisoner and see if he can shed any light on this."

I cringed. It was almost as if he had been reading my mind!

Krak promptly got up, opened a carton, came in, and without so much as a "with your permission," plopped a hypnohelmet on my head!

She turned it on. She said, "Has Lombar Hisst been up to something?"

"Oh, no," I said in a properly muffled voice, not affected by the helmet at all, "Lombar is just an efficient public servant and he has to cover up for Lord Endow."

She thought for a moment. "Were you acting on Lombar Hisst's orders when you sabotaged this mission?"

"No," I said. "That is what I am afraid of. That I will be found out. It was all my own idea. I am jealous of Heller."

"You don't know of any changes in the government?"

"No. Nothing is wrong. My most recent communications just showed everything as usual."