XXII.
Indan Ko scowled and thought for a moment. This huge Terran that crowded his palace like a giant in a doll's house was not making sense.
"I do not understand."
"Terra is known as the Planet of Terror," said Billy, "because of the evolutionary system caused by the hard radiation in that district. You have seen the viciousness of our fungus, our micro-organisms, of our life itself. Could the Loard-vogh stand up against a bombardment, planet by planet, of fungus-spores so tenacious that they grow on synthetic resins? Stellor Downing held a Sscantovian guinea pig in one hand for a moment and it died a most horrible death within minutes because of fungi that were innocuous to him. In my ship there is a slab of rare cheese. Delicious stuff, and what Terrans call 'quite high' because it is growing a full beard of mold. Could you—or the Loard-vogh—spread it on a slice of bread and eat it with impunity?"
"Definitely not."
"Seventeen million of the Loard-vogh died in the Battle of Sol, and more than half of them perished because Terran spores crept into chinks in their space armor. Chinks so small that they do not permit loss of air in space.
"You see, Indan Ko, the fear of Terra that drove the Loard-vogh frantic was because they thought that Terra would send out myriad after myriad of tiny spacecraft, loaded to the bomb bay doors with minute spore bombs. That we could have done. But we did not."
"That was your secret weapon?"
Billy shook his head. "Terra's secret weapon is her ability to grasp opportunity. Which brings me to the point of this interview. The Loard-vogh have a twenty-thousand year plan of conquest. No race can hope to stop them alone. No race in the course of a year, a hundred years, or even a thousand years could hope to defeat them alone."
"Terra could."
"That is not defeat. That is extermination."
"The Loard-vogh should be exterminated!" thundered Indan Ko. The little man's thunder was slightly high-pitched to the Terran and not at all awe-inspiring. Billy merely smiled.
"It is not for any race to render sterile of life one quarter of the Galaxy. Extermination is not victory. War by proper definition is a measure used to impose your will upon a non-co-operative government. Even the Loard-vogh understand that a dead slave is no good. Extermination may be your will, Tlemban, but you will fail in your conquest. Therefore I ask that you use intelligence. Stop lashing out like a hurt child. Stop shooting at the cliffs of living rock. The way to win is to husband your strength. Roll with the punches. Take them easy. Wait until you are set, and see the proper opening, and then drive forward. Collect allies in your stride, and play the double-game. Use your diplomatic ability."
"You plan a long-time retaliation?"
"Our plans are nebulous at present. Terra fought for one thing alone, and that was to gain the respect of a race that has only contempt for those that bow their heads willingly. Had we invited them in instead of fighting, they would have suspected foul play. We fought hard enough to convince them that we meant business. After all, our planetary heritage is such that we would be out of character if we gave in without a fight. Ergo we fought.
"Tlembo," went on Billy quietly, "has been frantic so long that she has lost perspective. That I claim, and it is deplorable, but not so damaging as to lose hope of repairing. Tlembo has been nicked again and again in her effort to find a savior. Her continued defeats have made her bitter, and ever more determined to win via the crushing defeat route. Consider this, Indan Ko, and then tell me if you think you are right in continuing to bring minor factors to bear against the Loard-vogh."
"And what would you suggest that we do?"
"Go to Vorgan. Ask immunity and audience. Vorgan is not without honor. He will respect your request for immunity. Then tell Vorgan that you fear the strength of his fighting forces, and that you will cease your constant effort to undermine the Loard-vogh. Tell him that Tlembo has certain factors that will enhance the Loard-vogh culture—you and he know what they are, as I do—and offer him those factors in exchange for Tlemban integrity."
"I dislike it."
"Naturally. But look, Indan Ko. You will be taxed terribly. You will be forced into handing over a certain percentage of your wealth. You will work for them, and for little remuneration. Yet your hardships will actually be less than the cost of fighting them. Now you must maintain a fleet, arm your cities against invasion, and always prepare for war. If you submit to the Loard-vogh banner you will be protected by the Loard-vogh, and may Heaven help any race that attacks Tlembo? The income you spend in being a nominal slave will be less than the amount spent in being an armed free-world."
"And eventual conquest?"
"Console yourselves with the certain knowledge that your hardships will all be avenged sometime. Not in your life, perhaps, but in the time of your descendants. Submit to their hard, exacting rules in outward abjection, but keep your mind forever on the future, when it will no longer prevail. And as you go, and as you find other races that are suitable, send their representatives to Terra. Terra will be the master-control of the anti-Loard-vogh combine."
"I shall think it over and discuss it with the Tlemban council. But what of Sscantoo?"
"Linzete must understand, also."
"But Hotang Lu is there now."
"What! Filling Linzete full of the theory of bombing the Loard-vogh with Solar spores?"
Indan Ko nodded.
"Then I must go—and quickly!"
"Your trip will take months," objected Indan Ko. "Meanwhile, Linzete may set his machinery in operation."
"Contact him," said Billy. "And have him smooth it down a bit. My trip will not take months. I'll be there in days."
"Days!"
"Yes. We have a new mode of space travel. It will be yours as soon as you decide to join the Loard-vogh—"
"Terran, it sounds as though you were helping them."
"Naturally it does. Until we are ready to strike, we must aid them completely—and always remember that what we find and give them we will have ourselves. No single weapon won a war, Indan Ko. But if we can match them man for man, we will win because our wits are sharper. Now I must waste no time in getting to Sscantoo."
Billy's exodus from the Tlemban capitol building was more arduous than his entry. This time he was in a hurry, and moving swiftly through corridors too small for him, brushing doll-sized furniture with his mass, and crushing not a few of the smaller and more fragile pieces in his haste—to say nothing of squeezing two doors from their hinges in his passage—they all hampered him. Tlembo was going to pay well for this visit.
Outside, Billy towered above the Tlembans as he strode up the middle of the street, his head not more than a few inches below the trolley wire that fed the street car system. Traffic policemen gave him passage, for he could be seen for blocks. He turned into the spaceport and entered his ship.
He was met by Cliff Lane.
"How'd it go?"
"I think we got him. There'll be no more trouble from that sector."
"Good. Now what?"
"We whip this horse into action and head for Sscantoo. On the triple. Hotang Lu is there, telling Linzete of his danger and urging him to get set for conquest."
"Linzete is going to be a tougher nut to crack," observed Lane. "Well, let's get going. I've a few items to tell about Hendrick's researches in subspace matter."
Thompson's ship rose sharply, plunged into space, and then the distorting beam in the control room started to function.
"Think you can hit Sscantoo?" asked Billy.
"Breeze," smiled the pilot.
"But look, Tony, that's a long way off."
"So's Terra," answered Tony laconically. "We hit Tlembo all right, didn't we?"
"O.K., you're the pilot. Drop me on Sscantoo, and I'll invite you to a drink."
"A deal," grinned Tony. A moment later the pressure was built up, and the ship was wrenched into subspace. Then began the long, long journey to Sscantoo which would take less than a few days in the universe from which they came.
"Now," said Thompson to Lane, "what's with Hendricks and his researches?"
"So far, subspace matter is enigmatic. It does not combine atomically or chemically with normal matter. It shows other physical properties, however. They separated the sample by the ancient method of using the various melting points and specific masses. The stuff has no gravitic attraction, but it has mass, you know, and they used a centrifuge on it. They got two kinds of matter. One we'll call metal for the simple reason that it conducts electricity. The others are nonmetals because they do not conduct electricity. There was a small quantity of a light blue gas that was occluded in the dirt, it boiled off early and they caught it. Well, if nothing else, it will come in handy for surgeon's tools, chemical hardware, and the like, since you can put anything into it and it will not dissolve or go into chemical combinations. I betcha we got something to hold the Universal Solvent."
"Yeah," grinned Billy. "Takes something strictly out of this world to do it, though."
"Since there's no weight to it, the stuff still heads for the roof. The gas, they say, boiled off down, since the vapor pressure and atmospheric brownian movement drove it that way. Good stuff for antibends atmospheres, I'd say. Mix it with twenty percent oxygen and breathe it. It will not dissolve, at least no detectable loss is noticed with the instruments that Hendricks has."
"There's a brand new system of chemistry, nuclear physics, and garden-variety physics out there," said Billy. "We've opened up a new field, or maybe two. Well, we've got several months here. Let's get to work."
Vorgan, Lord of All, smiled in a puzzled manner. "You have my word," he said. "Your immunity is granted. Complete and absolute immunity, with the right to speak as you wish without fear of reprisals. What is the nature of this visit?"
Indan Ko shifted nervously. He felt a great uncomfortable fear of this vast room, that seemed to stretch endlessly. The dais upon which Vorgan sat was like a mountain to the little man, and each step was knee-high to Indan Ko.
"Tlembo is weary," said Indan Ko. "Yet we are bitterly afraid."
"Of what?"
"Slavery."
Vorgan shrugged. "It will come sooner or later."
"Lord of All, may I offer you a bargain?"
"Bargain?" grunted Vorgan.
"Tlembo has been a source of discomfort to you. We have forced you off-balance several times, have caused you to go forth and fight in sectors where you were not ready to enter. We have been instrumental in causing you to change your master plan."
"Right."
"We have never been a real menace to you," went on the little man, "but we have been annoying. Now if I offer you our promise not to stir up any more trouble, will you offer us less than utter and abject slavery?"
Vorgan blinked. The bluntness of the offer was startling to him, and the offer itself was a new facet to the Loard-vogh conquest. He snarled inwardly at Mangare again, cursing the long-dead Lord of All that had permitted the initial escape of the Tlembans. But snarling at a dead man's mistake was not solving this problem, and Vorgan dropped it to consider Indan Ko's startling offer.
Until recently, nothing like this could have come up. Save for three or four times in the past—before Vorgan's time—when Tlembo had created minor riots, the Loard-vogh conquest had been lightning fast and completely unheralded. A sector would be overrun, a star cluster at a time, and no word would go out ahead of their plans. Races fell before their might, and then lived in slavery. A slave has no position, and no right nor ability to offer terms. Therefore terms were a consideration never before handled.
Terms, by themselves, offered a conflict in Vorgan's mind. Bartering and buying among the Loard-vogh was normal, of course, but the concept of terms from an alien race struck a snag, somehow.
Yet Vorgan could see the point. A chance for the Loard-vogh to complete their master plan without the interference of this race of trouble-makers. True, the Loard-vogh must relinquish the right to hold them as absolute slaves. Perhaps a single representative in the Lower Council would suffice. At any rate, giving a little right now might mean less loss for the future. Vorgan groaned at the thought of all the races of the Galaxy asking terms, and getting certain conditions of servitude. Better to give a little to this one race than to go on trying to keep a galaxy full of races satisfied.
No, he thought, not one race. That makes two! Terra had certain advantages asked and offered. But Terra had been defeated, and only her very brilliant ability had won her the right to a certain freedom. And, of course, Terrans were helping the Loard-vogh on a myriad of planets, doing things that the Loard-vogh found difficult, mentally.
But to keep Tlembo from stirring up trouble might well be worth the effort. Tlembans were not the intelligent race that the Terrans were, but—
Vorgan laughed. Let the Terrans have another job. They could possibly use the Tlembans in some way. Let Terra keep Tlembo satisfied and quiet and useful! Terrans were of exceedingly high intelligence, and the results of their researches often required either that the Terrans follow it, or that the Terrans direct a number of Loard-vogh. The latter was not right, politically, and it had been a bother to them all.
To have a large group of Terrans all running down important details seemed better, though Vorgan admitted that it was a waste of good brainpower to have highly trained technicians performing routine research. Tlembans were of a high order of intelligence, though not as high as the Loard-vogh. They might be able to handle the routine experiments and act in tertiary capacities under Terran direction.
An excellent idea.
"Indan Ko, I offer you a brief period of armistice. Permit me to consult the Grand Council. I—"
Lindoo entered, hurriedly. "Lord of All, Borgara's machine is here!"
"Indan Ko, I must see this immediately. Consider the armistice while I am gone, and rest assured that I am about convinced that we can come to terms. I shall return directly."
Vorgan followed Lindoo into the large anteroom that opened on the nave of the reception room. There were six of the Loard-vogh Grand Council there, grouped around a machine of amazing complexity. It was more amazing because it did not appear to make good sense. Vorgan thought that perhaps it would make sense after it started to run.
And the thing that made Vorgan catch his breath was the Terran sitting in the corner with folded arms.
"Well," said Vorgan shortly, "what does it do?"
Lindoo stepped forward and snapped the switch on the base. The Terran leaped to his feet and snapped it off.
"Don't!" he warned.
"That was a rash thing to do," snapped Vorgan.
"I may be rash," admitted the Terran. "But lese-majesty is permissible when a life is in danger."
"Lindoo, give me the details."
"Borgara went crazy."
"Crazy? How?"
"I don't know. But it was tied up in this machine, somehow."
Vorgan turned to the Terran. "Every time we have something out of line going on here, we find Terra mixed in it. What is your name, Terran?"
"Edward Atkins."
"Position, Atkins?"
"Technician."
"And what is this machine?"
"A device I made at Borgara's direction."
"Borgara went crazy. Why?"
"Because he used this machine. I insist that it remain dormant. Otherwise the rest of you will be caught in the same unfortunate trap that befell Borgara the Powerful."
"No doubt deplorable," observed Vorgan dryly.
"Quite. I did his bidding, and he became enmeshed in it."
"I'm not too surprised," snapped Vorgan. "So give me your side of the details. About one more like this and I am going to wipe Terra out."
"Forgive me if I seem to slur a member of your race," said Atkins earnestly, "but Borgara was a bitter tyrant. He held his rule by sheer force and violence. He maintained his productive output by torture. He cared little for pleasure or ease, and he drove the people in his sector unmercifully. On one planet, Borgara set up a rule that any man who did not produce a given amount would find one member of his family entering the Grand Torture Chamber. Torture threats against a person are far less demanding than threats against a member of the immediate family. And, Lord of All, he set the minimum limit slightly above the average output, and kept it rising.
"Borgara found his pleasure in watching people in torture. The trouble was that the more satisfying kind of torture didn't leave a victim alive too long. So Borgara directed me to devise a means of torture that would be most terrible and yet would not kill too soon. I did—and it is this machine."
"Yet it drove Borgara insane."
"Correct. Permit me to remove a few important parts?"
"To demonstrate without danger?"
"Yes."
Atkins stepped forward and removed two tiny wheels and a glistening sphere. "Now start it," he said. "The danger is gone."
Lindoo snapped the switch again. The myriad of levers began to reciprocate. Tiny flashing wheels started to turn, and pencils of light flickered through the facets of the rotating spheres. It was a fascinating machine, utterly fascinating. It increased in speed, and the flickering, flashing, interwoven motion flowed with a noiseless violence. In and out, through and through in a mad pattern went the parts. And as they watched it, the machine lost its mechanical shape, apparently, and became an almost living thing that breathed and was—shapeless. The individual motions became one master writhing.
And the Loard-vogh stared at the machine with horror on their faces. There was sheer and utter horror there, but they could not move away, nor could they speak. They began to writhe a bit, as something in their mental attitude caused the onset of physical pain, and the writhing grew more violent.
Atkins stepped forward and turned the machine off.
Vorgan stormed.
"I thought there was no danger!" he shouted, rubbing a muscle that had cramped.
"No danger," said the Terran with a faint smile. "You see, when I removed these parts I protected myself so that I could turn the machine off before it became really dangerous to you. I wanted you to see and feel for yourselves just what Borgara thought excellent."
"But we were going insane and were aware of it!"
"As a means of torture, can you think of any better?" asked Atkins. "To sit there, watching the machine, knowing that it is driving you insane, and that the machine is causing you physical pain, and that there is nothing that you can do about either—that, Lord of All, is the supreme torture."
"And Borgara got caught, is that it?"
"Unfortunately for Borgara, he used it once too often. He got tired of watching the victim, and watched the machine. Since he was alone in the torture chamber, it—got him. I beg of you, destroy it. I'd not care to be responsible for more trouble."
Lindoo opened a drawer in the chest, took out a high-power modine, and blasted the machine to ribbons. "Atkins, too?"
Vorgan shook his head. "He was only doing what he was told. Borgara's Sector is in good hands, they tell me, and the new overseer has released forty million fighting men that Borgara needed to control his sector. No, I think ... dismissed, Atkins ... that once again the Terrans have done us a favor."
Vorgan returned to Indan Ko. "Tlemban, tell me something. Was Terra behind your decision?"
"Yes," admitted Indan Ko. "Terra pointed out that the Galaxy must be united and that the Loard-vogh were doing just that. Terra does not grant that the means you are using are correct to their ideals, but they admit that you are doing it quickly and efficiently. And they point out that we can never hope to win, ergo we should make the best of defeat. So—"
Vorgan groaned. "Terra—what next?"
And then he straightened his face again, and said: "Your terms are granted. Your instructions are to report to Terra as assistant operators. Your immunity becomes eternal, Indan Ko, and your integrity is maintained as well as it can be when you are taking orders from Terra. And," he smiled, "perhaps it will keep Terra out of my hair.”
