VIII.
Lindoo entered the crystal palace proudly. Not for Lindoo was the belly-crawling approach to the mighty Vorgan, Lord of All. Lindoo was not a mere stripling; Lindoo was the head of the Board of Universal Strategy, and Lindoo had not only permission, but orders to enter but quickly, and tell but swiftly, anything that might possibly affect the future plans of the Loard-vogh.
Vorgan lifted a hand to silence the one upon the floor, his wish was conveyed by a man-at-arms, since the one on the floor was flat on his face, as befitted one of the lower caste.
"Urgent?" asked Vorgan.
"Perhaps urgent, but informative at least," explained Lindoo. "Kregar has made full contact with the Susceptible One."
"Susceptible One? Who may that be? Of what importance?"
"His thoughts are confused. His name is not pronounceable from the mixed thought-pattern. He is important. He was sent to maintain order between the Extremes."
"Ah—and Kregar has succeeded?"
"He has. But not without incident."
"Trouble?"
"Some. The Little Men of Tlembo have, in part, been successful. I curse them as you do, Lord of All. Yet the Loard-vogh must prepare and be always prepared for resistance. It is written that smooth sailing is a vain hope. The Little Men have carried out their intent. They have succeeded in harnessing the Extremes together—for a time. They have succeeded in destroying the suppressor—which is why Kregar was able to control the mind of the Susceptible One. Kregar is brilliant, Lord of All. Kregar deserves attention."
"If Kregar earns it, he will get it. I am not unjust, nor has any Loard-vogh been unjust. Tell me—his brilliancy?"
"Kregar learned of the rivalry through the Susceptible One. Through the latter, Kregar was able to set one Extreme against the other, fighting a mad duel to ascertain the better man. The intellectual apex, the Little Man known as Toralen Ki, the key to their future, is now being attacked by the Susceptible One, through Kregar's control."
"Excellent. And the outcome?"
"Obvious. Toralen Ki will die. So will his cohort Hotang Lu. Thus dies those who understand their intellectual limitations and the will to lift others above them. The Extremes, upon whom the Little Men pinned their hopes, will be split forever. One will certainly die—perhaps both."
"It is best. Shall we then attack the Planet of Terror?"
"It will not be necessary. Their possible danger to us is over."
Vorgan smiled, and he looked almost benign. He was a tall man, bearded, with a full head of hair that tufted white in patches. His ancestry? His classification? It is hard to say. He was vertebrate. He was warm-blooded. He was intelligent and he was more than dextrous with his hands. Both hands. He was also dextrous with his mind. The Lord of All had not become Lord of All because of his heritage, his faith in deity, or his sheer ruthlessness. All helped, but the Lord of All was ruler because of his ability to rule.
"I'll witness the final act," he said.
"The reason I came—" nodded Lindoo. "Kregar is working madly, and yet there is interest there. It will be enlightening. For even the Susceptible One is most difficult."
The Loard-vogh at the instrument was sweating profusely. His hands were clenched, and blood ran from the center of the right fist where his fingernails had pierced his palm. His entire frame was tense, and his eyes were half-closed.
Vorgan looked, nodded, and spoke freely to the recorder beside Kregar. The Lord of All knew that the operative was concentrated beyond all physical stimuli. "The details, Neckal?"
"Lord of All, the battle progresses favorably. The Extremes—they are fighting each other. As you entered, the Susceptible One's mind indicated that there might have been a culmination to their feud. Two of their weapons have been discharged in a location that makes us believe that simultaneous death may have taken place. Toralen Ki is fighting for his life—"
Vorgan laughed. "Thirty-odd pounds against six times that mass! Lindoo, your operator has done well."
"Naturally," said Lindoo proudly. He could afford to be proud; he had picked Kregar.
"Yet I feel that we should do something about the Planet of Terror."
"You think—?"
"Sending out another suppressor will do no good."
"You are certain?"
"Not entirely. I just fear them. It is good sense to fear a strong enemy, Lindoo. We, of course, shall conquer, but far better to find them easily beaten than to lose ten billion of Loard-vogh's finest."
"The master plan does not call for invasion of that sector for twenty-four hundred years."
"I should hate to have my ultimate offspring cast slurs at my memory—and perhaps erect a statue to throw excrement at."
"But one cannot cover all dangers—"
"I know. Yet let us wait. It will depend upon Kregar's success."
Neckal spoke: "The battle progresses."
Vorgan frowned. "Why or how can one so small defend himself against one of the Planet of Terror?"
"The Little Man is agile and the Terran is clumsy."
Lindoo nodded. "We may both curse and praise that. If the Terran were less clumsy, he might well be more difficult for Kregar."
"Toralen Ki also has mental amplification."
Kregar's hands opened and closed convulsively. Once they clutched at a space near his belt, but closed as though in futility—what he sought was not there. He reached forward, and only Neckal's quick action in turning Kregar around slightly prevented the Loard-vogh from clutching a delicate adjustment of the instrument through which Kregar worked.
Lindoo smiled. "It is written that a good big man will always conquer a good small man, my Lord of All."
"What lies between the Loard-vogh and the Planet of Terror?"
"Ten thousand light-leagues of space."
"A most dangerous spearhead—is it not?"
"It might be more than dangerous. To fight a war on many fronts is death. To warn a thousand races between the Loard-vogh and Terra might be the balance."
"Then we must hope," said Vorgan. "And only as a last resort will we drive forward."
"Face the fact," smiled Lindoo. "Kregar has—will have soon—the Little Man in his power. The cohort of the Little Man comes next. Dispose of them and the Planet of Terror will never know what it missed, in spite of the destruction of the suppressor. If nothing more than that happens, we are still safe. The Extremes fight one another—or fought one another. One or both of them may be dead. Grant the impossible and assume that Kregar is not successful and that Toralen Ki and Hotang Lu escape. Without the Extremes, releasing the mental torpor of the Planet of Terror will be most difficult.
"Now," continued Lindoo, with a very superior smile, "we grant the complete failure of our plans. All escape. Toralen Ki explains his plan to the Extremes. Have you any idea of sheer rivalry? Then consider your own attitude upon being asked to relinquish your identity to your most bitter rival."
Vorgan nodded. "How simple it would have been to wipe out all Tlembans so many hundreds of years ago instead of permitting those few to escape. I curse Mangare and I think I will erect a statue to his dishonor, that all Loard-vogh may spit at he who was not thorough."
Kregar's muscles tensed, wrapped him in knots, and his head jerked to one side in a spasm of pain. His eyes opened, glazed. They stayed open—wide and glassy.
Slowly he started, and with accelerated motion, he toppled to the floor. His frame went into one spasm, and he curled convulsively over his stomach. Then he stretched out straight and stiff.
"Dead," said Neckal, frantically.
"Dead?" echoed Lindoo.
"What happened?" asked Vorgan in a hollow voice.
"He failed."
"Failed?"
"How?"
"We may never know. But the failure was complete."
The Lord of All scowled. "Lindoo, plan the attack upon the Planet of Terror!"
"Yes, Lord of All. We shall strike Terra as soon as our forces can be deployed. It will take time, but we shall move with high speed."
"A word of caution, Lindoo. If they do not embark upon the Plan of the Little Men, merely hold our spearhead force in everlasting readiness. I dislike this attack, though our numbers permit it. I'd prefer to stay closer to the Master Plan. But—if they change, attack!"
Vorgan returned to his throne room, to ascend his crystal seat. He waved for the serf upon the floor to continue, and the man-at-arms conveyed the Lord of All's desire because the serf still had his face to the floor.