XVI.
The Loard-vogh expanded their sphere. And like the attack upon Procyon IV, another globe of Loard-vogh dropped upon the planet. The power distribution center fought against itself and sapped power dangerously to drive off this new invasion.
A third invasion turned the trick. Power distribution failed; fell apart despite attempts to hold the network together.
"Your secret!" screamed Hotang Lu to Thompson.
Billy shook his head. "It is not yet time."
The Tlemban appealed to Kennebec.
The Co-ordinator of the Solar Combine agreed with Billy. "You still do not understand," he told Hotang Lu.
He faced Lane and Downing. "They will conquer us!"
Lane spoke for the pair of them. "You needn't appeal to us. I had partial foresight before—you said so. He had the ability to make lightning plans." He turned to Downing. "Or was it the other way around?"
"No matter," answered Stellor Downing. "Foresight is no good when planning is a part of the psyche. Instinctive and impetuous action do not match well with a planning nature. Since the transformation, we have both been slower—and quite bewildered, most of the time. No, Hotang Lu, all you can get from us is resentment over losing our ability to lead. Now, we no longer decide anything for ourselves. We cannot make up our minds."
Hotang Lu went to Patricia. "And you?"
"I am not a ruling voice."
"Prevail upon them."
"It is not my place. Besides, you do not understand."
"I understand this!" exploded Hotang Lu. "You are invaded. You will be conquered. You will join the slaves of the Loard-vogh. They will strip you from your homes and make you work for them. You will be driven and killed, for they have no compassion. They have no need of frugality in slaves. Terra will die."
"It is not yet time."
"Your judgment is faulty!" shouted Hotang Lu.
He hurled himself from the house and into his tiny spacecraft. He paused for only an instant to view the grave of Toralen Ki on the broad green lawn, and then he drove upward in superdrive. His size and his speed got him through, and Hotang Lu headed for Tlembo—alone and a beaten man.
Lindoo picked up the communicator and spoke to the operator. The connection beamed across the light-years and found Vorgan.
"Lord of All, it is going well."
"Give me the details. I was afraid of their secret weapon."
"Lord of All, the phrase 'secret weapon' is an old Solarian trick. It is meaningless."
"Go on."
"We landed on the isthmus that connects the two areas of land on the Second Hemisphere of Terra. The going was very hard, Vorgan. They drew power out of their sun like a torrent and we caught it all. It was terrible, and it was glorious. Our brave men died like flies—and not even the rock itself could stand against the energy turned loose. But we outnumbered them. We invaded again and again, and divided their power. Now we are screening the sun to run down their power intake. The globe expands, and we are holding most of the southern Land Area. From the northern pole, an invasion circle is spreading to meet the one on the isthmus."
"The other planets?"
"All taken."
"Terra is about through," breathed Vorgan.
"They are."
"I was deeply afraid," admitted Vorgan. "They are a vicious threat."
"Once conquered, though, they will be most useful."
"Yes, indeed. A race with the will to live is far superior to a race with a will like a bunch of cattle. They will rise high."
"Vorgan, you may have my throat for this, but I feel that it is a shame that we could not have them as equals."
"That would never work."
"I know it wouldn't. But it is a shame. I feared the landing here, Vorgan. The place is rife with spores, fungi, and bacterial death. But their weapons scoured the area."
"The fools."
"I know—but we are safe now. Terra is conquered."
"Then as soon as possible, bring me the ones I want."
"Lord of All, you will have them."
The air above Terra grew less turbulent, the energy died. Loard-vogh ships found less opposition as they landed at will on the former Planet of Terror. By hundreds and by thousands they landed—and by thousands they died as they tried to flip back their helmets and breathe the air of Terra. They turned black, they fell down, and the growths of ravaging microscopic life raced and built into horrid green mold and whispy hair as the growths of fungus found absolutely no opposition.
But with better direction, the Loard-vogh roamed the planet without death, though fungus-spores drifted freely. Their suits grew cultures, and the lubricants teemed with growing life—and if the inhabitant stayed too long in the suit, he died as fungi grew in the lubricant and was carried inside of the suit by mere action.
Air-tight to seventy pounds they were, those spacesuits. Seventy pounds inside or outside—and yet the insidious growths slipped inside and killed them.
But their numbers! As they died, so they were replaced. And the roadways thundered to the treads of their portables; the sky roared with the passing of their planes; and the cities echoed and re-echoed to the tramp of their feet. The sky was dark with their light spacers, landing, and the air was roiled mechanically with the landing craft that dropped from the spacecraft in never-ending streams.
Lindoo, arrayed as a conquering hero of the Loard-vogh should, awaited in the grand spacecraft of the Loard-vogh at Panama. The area had been scourged by fire and by sheer energy. Yet the tropical climate seemed to spawn trouble for the Loard-vogh.
Behind a triple sheet of reflectionless glass, Lindoo sat, outwardly triumphant, but inwardly afraid. He hoped that the powerful, color-less antiseptic mixtures between the sheets of glass would keep him safe.
Hurled in to the other side of the room were Kennebec and his daughter. Thompson followed, and Lane and Downing were hurled in lastly. They stood up defiantly.
Kennebec faced Lindoo. "You are the emissary of the Loard-vogh?"
"You know me—and my language?"
"Why not?" asked Kennebec. "Your speech is not difficult."
"No matter. You have this ability with all alien tongues?"
Downing smiled. "I spent one month among your planets, mingling with your people. They did not suspect."
"All alien tongues?" insisted Lindoo.
"Any, and all, can be learned by us in a matter of hours."
"Your race will be useful. Do you now accept defeat?"
"It was forced upon us?"
"Accept it!" exploded Lindoo, "or die!"
"A dead slave is useless," reminded Kennebec.
"And a dead malcontent is no trouble," snapped Lindoo. "Do you accept defeat?"
"As I said, defeat was forced upon us. Yes, we must accept defeat."
"Then broadcast the order to cease firing. Order Terra to drop its arms and submit."
"Will the integrity of our people be preserved?"
"Unconditional surrender does not permit terms."
"I will surrender unconditionally—but I demand the right to be treated as a worthy opponent."
"Your defeat at our hands was inevitable."
"We know that."
"Then why did you fight?"
"Only to gain your respect as an enemy."
Lindoo bowed his head briefly. "You have our respect. You have had our respect enough to cause a major change in the Master Plan. You will not be treated with contempt. There will be no looting, no pillage. Not if you will submit without further fight."
"Your terms I accept."
And Kennebec picked up the communicator and snapped the switch to General Broadcast.
And on Procyon IV, four survivors clustered around a crude, haywired receiver picked up the message. When it was through, they left their hidden cave full of Loard-vogh souvenirs. Openly they walked to the nearest encampment and knocked on the stockade.
And across the Galaxy to Vorgan, Lord of All, went the final word:
"The Solarian Sector is complete. All Solarians are being tested for adaptability, and upon completion will be trans-shipped to the proper situations in the Loard-vogh empire. Terra, Sol, and the entire Mutation Area will be left devoid of life."
Within hours, Lindoo was working on the problem of displacement. He—and all of the Loard-vogh—worked madly to complete this project. For all of them wanted to leave, forever, the former Planet of Terror.
Terra—conquered, completely!