PART EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter 1

The tank was nearly submerged in the water.

The blastrifle leveled from the open turret.

The yellow eyes of Lombar Hisst sighted down it.

Jettero Heller pulled up. He was almost to the edge of the pool. There was no cover.

He could hear the din of battle somewhere in the sky.

He thought if he could only get his hands on Hisst he might end this. But in that split instant it looked like Hisst was going to end him instead.

Heller had a handgun. It was almost totally discharged. He doubted it would even cause a bruise at this distance.

Hisst fired.

Heller had jinked to the left.

The shot missed.

But Heller had drawn as he jumped.

He didn’t fire at Hisst.

Heller fired at the water between him and the tank.

An enormous spray shot up!

Under the cover of it, Heller dived into the pool, totally submerged.

Hisst’s blastgun churned the upper surface, boiling spray and froth.

Swimming underwater, Heller reached the bottom of the tank.

Looking up, he could get a dim and wavy outline of the turret. Hisst seemed to be having a fit. He was firing all around the tank, hoping to hit the man he knew must be there somewhere.

The concussions were hurting Heller’s ears and he protected them with his cupped hands.

He was running out of air.

There was a pocket of it trapped under a tread fender. He stuck his nose up into it and got a breath.

Suddenly he was aware that the shooting above him had stopped. He waited a moment. He could hear a rushing sound. He decided to chance it and surface.

Ready to spring up over the submerged hulk and get to the turret, Heller put his face out.

Nothing happened.

He rose up further.

Hisst was gone!

The man had leaped off the tank and was almost to the far edge of the pool, swimming!

Heller instantly struck out in pursuit.

Lombar got out on the edge. He saw Heller swimming swiftly toward him. Hisst unslung the blastrifle and pointed down. He pulled the trigger.

It was wet and shorted out. It did not fire.

Hisst threw it away. He looked around wildly. He had recognized Heller. His rage went into panic and then deeper into insanity.

He saw a flight of steps near to hand. He raced up them.

He was grabbed suddenly from either side.

Two men in silver livery threatened him with electric battle-axes.

Lombar stumbled to his knees. He looked up and stared into the face of a teenaged girl—Teenie, Hostage Queen of Flisten.

“You are my prisoner,” she said. And to her men, “Take him inside and knock him out if he so much as twitches!”

PART EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter 2

Heller pulled up at the bottom of the steps and stood there dripping water.

“That man is my prisoner,” he said.

Teenie gazed out toward the pool. Snelz’s men, held back until now by that raving blastrifle, were spreading out to cover the Flisten palace.

On Teenie’s right and left, additional guards were drawn up, electric halberds ready.

Teenie looked down at the soaking-wet Heller. She gave her ponytail a twitch. She said, in English, such was the stress of the moment, “Clear off, buster!”

Heller stared. The figure in the golden robe seemed awfully immature, young. Not only had she spoken English but she was chewing bubble gum. “Are you from Earth?” he said in the same language she had used.

“Sure, bub,” said Teenie, secure in the protection of her guards, “and I’m also the Hostage Queen of Flisten. Now that I’ve got Hisst under wraps inside, I’m the only operating royalty around here right now, so it’s ‘Your Majesty’ to you.”

Heller suddenly wanted to laugh at this New York accent. He didn’t kneel.

This annoyed Teenie. “Listen, mac, I don’t know how come you’re talking Ivy League, but you better bruise that knee, kid. My guards don’t cotton to impoliteness.”

“My name is Jettero Heller. I’m the representative of Prince Mortiiy on the ground—”

A screeching whistle interrupted him. He looked up to his left. A warship, in flames, was falling. It slammed with a heavy shock wave into a nearby open park.

Snelz was at his elbow. When the echoes of the concussion ceased to rattle around, Snelz said, “That’s an Apparatus ship that just crashed. The rebels are giving them a pasting!”

“Those aren’t the rebels,” said Teenie in Voltarian. “If you’d been watching Homeview, you would have known that when somebody pulled that mountain apart, exposing Palace City, the Fleet and Army declared for Mortiiy. They’re blowing the Apparatus out of the sky!”

Snelz and Heller looked up. High above, the remnants of the Apparatus Earth invasion force were being blasted to bits and falling, ship after ship, into the waiting desert sands.

A Fleet destroyer, markings clear, dived down half a mile away, pounding some holdout group of Apparatus on the south perimeter.

“I guess the admirals came to their senses,” said Snelz. “We’re on the winning side! That news was what must have driven Hisst crazy and made him shoot his general staff!”

“Listen,” said Heller, “before one of those destroyers mistakes us for Apparatus, tell your men to get naked to their waists so they look like rebels.”

As Snelz gave the order, Heller began to remove his general’s uniform.

“What the hell is this?” said Teenie in English. “Some kind of a god (bleeped) striptease? While I admit, mister, that you’re a very good-looking man, it won’t get you anyplace. Not with me! If you want Lombar Hisst, you’ve got to come to terms!”

Heller had been wearing Fleet fatigues under his Apparatus outfit. He tossed the general’s uniform to one of Snelz’s men, who was collecting Apparatus clothes to bury them. Heller took a pillbox cap out of his pocket and put it on his head. He gave the chin strap a snap.

“Now,” he said to Teenie, “we can talk about it. What might these terms be?”

“Are you really a representative of Mortiiy?” said Teenie.

“I’ll do until Mortiiy comes along,” said Heller.

“Let me storm the place,” said Snelz. “She’s stalling.”

“Storm away,” said Teenie, “and get your heads chopped off. The only way you’re going to get Lombar Hisst is swap.”

“Horse-trading,” said Heller in English.

“You said it,” said Teenie, in Voltarian, “only I got the better horse. Two for one.”

“And who might these two be?” said Heller.

“The first one is a guy named J. Walter Madison,” said Teenie. “The (bleepard) double-crossed me.”

“MADISON?” said Heller. “Is he on Voltar?”

“Yep,” said Snelz.

“You said it,” said Teenie.

“My Gods!” said Heller.

“He’s really a two-timing son of a (bleepch),” said Teenie. “He wasn’t after Gris at all. The god (bleeped) judge just found Gris innocent. You’re Heller. Madison was really after YOU!”

“Madison is one, you said two. Who’s the other?”

Teenie bared her teeth. Her hands clenched. “The other one is the filthiest snake that ever lived. His name is Soltan Gris. Lord Turn says he is your prisoner. I WANT him!” And she snarled.

“Let me get this straight,” said Heller. “If this J. Walter Madison and this Soltan Gris are turned over to you, you will give us Lombar Hisst.”

“You got it through your head at last,” said Teenie. “And I want to point out that this territory I am standing on is the domain of the Hostage Queen of Flisten and happens to be inviolate. The only way you are going to get Lombar Hisst is swap!”

PART EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter 3

Heller and Snelz put their heads together: “I think we should rush them,” said Snelz. “They only got electric battle-axes.”

A savage burst of firing sounded in the direction of the east gate.

“I think she’ll deal,” said Heller. “These New Yorkers just like to bargain.”

“I ain’t a New Yorker!” said Teenie. “I’m from all over, including Kansas, Whiz Kid.”

Heller knew a needling when he heard one: Madison’s lies had been all over Earth press—the stories about Kansas, Maizie Spread and Toots Switch. He turned a little red. “Young lady,” he said, “we can discuss Madison and Gris later. Right now, turn over Lombar Hisst. I can promise you I’d like to get my hands on J. Warbler Madman myself and I can assure you that when I do, when you see what happens to him, your satisfaction will be guaranteed.”

“Not good enough,” said Teenie. “I am a very experienced person when it comes to justice: it’s made of banana peels. Hand me Gris and hand me Madison: you get Hisst. If you don’t, I’m liable to keep Hisst for a pet and feed him on peaches and cream.”

“I promised Gris a trial,” said Heller.

“He’s had one trial and what a miscarriage and abortion of injustice that was. I tell you what, I’ll give him a trial and guarantee absolutely to find him guilty. How’s that?”

Heller and Snelz looked at each other.

“I don’t even know where Madison is,” said Heller. “Do you?”

“Nope,” said Snelz. “Let me storm the place and you can appoint me a full general of Fleet Marines.”

Heller looked up at the teenager. Then he sat down on the step.

Timyjo, of Snelz’s company, had found some blue cloth in a nearby palace. It was the rebel color and he was passing out strips of it and the men were tying it around their heads. Those who had finished lounged against their blastrifles and looked up at the tableau at the top of the steps. Time passed. Stalemate.

A rebel scout came tearing across a park toward the group. He had spotted the naked torsos and blue headbands. He saw Heller and made a beeline for him.

“Officer Heller! The Retribution has landed. Mortiiy is checking if it’s safe to come in. Where’s Hisst?”

Heller stood up. He glanced at the girl at the top of the steps. The battle seemed to have died down in the sky, spatters of gunfire were only occasional far to the south.

“Snelz,” said Heller. “You keep this place surrounded. Don’t let anybody in or out.”

“Does that mean you are going to deal?” said Teenie.

“Time will tell, Your Teenage Majesty,” said Heller. “Right now, you better keep Hisst as safe as a monkey in the Bronx Zoo.”

Heller’s clothes were drying in the hot desert wind. He gave his powder-blue Fleet fatigue tunic a tug to straighten it. “I’ll go down to the gate and meet Prince Mortiiy.”

“You better deal!” shouted Teenie.

“Don’t get your bubble gum in an uproar,” Heller called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

The fate of Hisst, Gris and Madison was left hanging in the air.

PART EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter 4

Madison’s crew had several times thought they should leave the Imperial galley, but each time some commotion outside or some new outburst of firing had deterred them.

The one hundred Death Battalion soldiers, drunk as Lords, were stacked up in a locked pantry, minus arms. The captain was long since well into a completely elsewhere LSD trip.

“I don’t think we should go yet,” said Flick. “It’s still daylight out there. That’s the real sun. There’s no power on and when it goes down, the place will be as dark as pitch. We can sneak out of here like rats.”

“On the other hand,” said Flip, “when it’s dark, if those rebel forces post patrols, we’ll be spotted and stopped every ten feet. Look at these caps.”

“What have caps got to do with it?” said Flick.

“Well, we’re in Homeview uniforms and these are Homeview caps,” said Flip. “They make them this way because Homeview crews get in the path of blinding lights and reflectors. Watch!”

She took one of the aqua-green headpieces. She put her long fingernail in a slit. The visor split in half with a pop. The upper part stayed where it was but the lower part snapped vertical in a curve. She put it on: a dark filter covered the upper two-thirds of her face. Looking at her now, you couldn’t see who she was.

“So just snap your visor bills down, pick up your cameras and equipment,” said Flip, “and simply walk out. They’ll suppose we’re just a Homeview crew doing our jobs: they won’t dream we’re Apparatus. So let’s get on with the parade.”

“She’s right,” said Flick. “Nobody ever notices a Homeview crew. Come on!”

There was a pop of visors being lowered and the clatter of equipment and cameras being lifted.

They found a door that opened into a side park. The fifty people walked out across the dying grass and into the hot glare of the desert sun. They were heading for the open area where they had parked their air-coaches.

Flick stopped, appalled. A crashed warship, still smoking, had landed squarely on their four vehicles. All that remained of the Model 99 airbus was one angel lying face up on the splintered pavement, grinning vacantly at the sky.

The crew stacked up behind Flick. He said to Madison, “Chief, we got to scatter out and steal some transportation.”

But Madison was staring down the boulevard.

Surrounded and guarded by companies of rebel troops, a procession was coming from the east gate, heading toward the Imperial Palace. In its center, on poles, several rebels were carrying a large casket-sized container that had a cover over it. Prince Mortiiy was walking ahead of it, flanked by two rebel officers. Several Fleet admirals and Army generals were in the group. Hightee Heller and the Countess Krak were helping Prahd carry bottles with tubes that led into the container.

And there, following behind them with a drawn blast handgun, looking at the palaces they passed, watching very alertly for possible snipers, was Jettero Heller!

Madison said, “It’s HIM! Oh, boy, at last he’s stolen a whole empire! I got to cover this!”

Flick tugged urgently at his sleeve. “Chief, for Gods’ sakes, let’s get out of here. I’ve got two thousand identoplates! We can get lost! Nobody can find us!”

Madison said, eyes round, “Good Lord, think of the headline! Thirty-two point, OUTLAW STEALS CONFEDERACY! Director! Get your crew busy! Plug your cameras into Homeview channel direct by radio. COVER THAT PROCESSION!”

The director instantly jumped to it and began issuing orders. The whole crew started to get busy. Even the reporters grabbed out notebooks to sketch stories.

Flick seized Madison by the arm. “Chief, this is insane! If they find out we’re Apparatus, they’ll slaughter us!”

Madison shook loose. There was a wild, inspired light flaming in his eyes. “He finally DID it! This is my passport to glory!”

The reporters closed in on the procession and started getting names. The circus girls rushed in to straighten the hats of generals and admirals. A makeup man slapped some tan powder on the face of Mortiiy. Roustabouts flashed reflectors at the procession. The camera lights began to flicker. They had the main channel of all Homeview for the Confederacy.

“This is coming to you live, live, live from Palace City!” cried Madison into a separate mike, unheard by the procession but heard by everyone else on Voltar. “You are watching the triumphal entry of the outlaw Heller into the Imperial Palace. Exclusive! Live! Live! Live!”

“We’re dead, dead, dead,” groaned Flick.

PART EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter 5

The Royal corridor had to have the bodies of two generals removed before the procession could go forward. The director prohibited their being touched until he could get close-ups. Then he got a long shot of the great Royal antechamber: two more bodies lay in there. Only then did he station his crew and let the procession enter.

The director thought it would be more dramatic if three rebels grabbed the big stone desk that stood before the bedchamber door and threw it bodily away. He didn’t like the way they did it the first time, and while another camera covered the waiting admirals and generals, he had roustabouts put the table back. “Now register disgust!” he ordered, and they got their retake with a crash. Very satisfactory.

At Madison’s whispered instruction, the director got a dolly shot of Heller going in, while Madison into his commentary mike said, “The outlaw Heller visits the scene of his kidnapping crime.” Another whispered instructions to the director who then pointed out to Heller that the bent baton was still lying on the floor. Heller picked it up while a camera did a pan-tilt. “Hello, hello, my baton,” said Heller.

“Beautiful,” said the director, complimenting his acting, and moved a camera in to get a close shot of the inscription.

“Outlaw confesses kidnapping,” said Madison into the commentary mike. “Admits the evidence left on the scene of the crime is his.”

Some rebels pushed the massive bed aside and the bearers placed the fluid-filled container in its place. The Countess Krak and Hightee Heller were still holding bottles: Prahd made sure the tubes weren’t tangled. The director moved the three to the far side of the container.

Heller moved forward to the side of the tub. He lifted the cover and exposed the face of Cling.

“Outlaw gazes gloatingly on face of victim,” said Madison.

Heller and Prahd were checking to make sure the tubes were all in place. The director got a close-up of the face of Cling the Lofty, very old, still unconscious. Then he pulled the cameraman back to a two-shot, Heller and the Emperor.

Madison was about to make another commentary when his script went all to pieces.

Heller had pulled a tube away from across Cling’s chin. Suddenly Cling opened his eyes. He looked around, evidently registering the golden frieze in the ceiling of his bedchamber. He turned his head and saw who was standing close to him. He frowned. Petulantly, he said, “Officer Heller! I told you to take me out of here!”

An audible sigh came from the Fleet and Army officers in the bedchamber. With relief they understood it had not been a kidnapping: therefore, by siding with Heller in this fight, they were not rebels!

Madison tried to think fast. He wished he had cut the cameras off. But it was too late. The damage had been done. His outlaw had suddenly become simply a Royal officer obeying orders. Frantically, he wracked his wits for some way to recover from this blooper. Well, all was not lost; he would somehow handle it.

“Your Majesty,” said Heller. “We have found that it was Hisst who killed your sons and successors to the throne.”

“Hisst!” said the Emperor in alarm. “Is he here?”

“We have him in a safe place,” said Heller. “You are completely secure and in no danger now. I would like to point out that Hisst also caused your youngest son, Mortiiy, to rebel. The prince has been in constant attendance upon you, night and day.”

“And he didn’t kill me?” stared Cling.

“Your safety and continued rule have been Mortiiy’s only concern for months, Your Majesty. You owe the vanquishment of Hisst to him.” Heller reached toward Krak who handed him a sack. Heller said to the Emperor, “I have your Royal seal here. Could I suggest that we rescind the rebel proclamation?”

The Emperor looked at Mortiiy. The prince was smiling.

Cling said, “You mean I’ve still got a son?”

“If you say so, Your Majesty,” said Heller.

The Emperor reached for Mortiiy. Tears began to roll down the withered cheeks. “Come here, son,” he said.

Mortiiy moved over and knelt. Cling gripped the back of the prince’s hand. Brokenly, he said, “If I had listened to you, this never would have happened. I am too old and too sick and too silly to rule. Anyone who can stand off the combined forces of Voltar for five years deserves to rule. Take the throne. I abdicate.”

A sigh of relief went up from the rebel troops and officers in the room. Even though they sided with Mortiiy, they were not rebels now.

Mortiiy gripped his father’s hands. “I will try to be worthy of you, Sire.”

Heller knelt and said to Mortiiy, “Your Majesty,” and handed him the bag of regalia. Then Heller stood. “I had better go out and put that mountain back so we can get some power on.”

Mortiiy looked up from where he knelt beside the container. His black beard suddenly bristled. “No you don’t, Lord Heller! Leave that to the Corps of Engineers. Somebody else can play with mountains. Immediately assemble an Officers’ Conference. We’ve got to settle several burning questions and decide some fates. You’ve got to help me get to the bottom of what tore this Confederacy to bits!”

PART EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter 6

The Grand Council hall was quite a mess. In the last druggy days of Hisst, nobody had even bothered to dust it. Heller had dug the staff out of the basement where they had been prisoners and tried to bring some order to the place. There were no lights, the sun no longer hammered through the round upper windows: he rigged some construction-site floods he found.

The Apparatus seemed to have stolen the gold and jeweled cloths and the diamond-studded banners; the place looked pretty bare. He thought he was lucky to be able to get the dust off the hundred-foot-diameter table and find enough unbroken chairs.

But what impeded him most was people: they kept coming in, arriving from the cities. Heller commandeered a company of Fleet Marines from a battleship landed outside the east gate and told the captain to stop this influx, but the captain, although he had the huge entrance door blocked, kept letting people in.

In answer to Heller’s challenge, the captain said, “But they’re all important people of the realm, sir. Actually we’re only getting what the Army doesn’t filter out at the gates.”

The room would hold a couple thousand in a pinch: Heller gave it up.

A Homeview crew was interviewing every notable that appeared. They also always seemed to have a camera on Heller.

“Chief,” said Flick to Madison, “this is madness. Please, please let me steal some cars so we can split.”

“No!” said Madison. “This isn’t over!”

Flick pointed to a backflow monitor the director had had set up so he could know how Joy City was cutting in his own scenes. Real Homeview crews, all through the Confederacy, were shooting shots of people in the streets, screaming their lungs out, “Long Live His Majesty Mortiiy!”

“It looks awful over to me!” said Flick.

“That’s the point!” said Madison. “We’ve lost our riots! You’ll never make a PR man, Flick. I’ve lost client exposure. Somehow I’ve got to try to make it up and repair the image!”

“You’re crazy,” said Flick.

“Of course,” said Madison. “That’s why I’m a genius. As soon as this conference convenes, I can keep a running commentary going and, hope against hope, regain the initiative! All is not lost, Flick. Don’t despair. I’ve still got a chance to make Heller an immortal outlaw yet!” And he went off to give the director some camera angles.

Emperor Mortiiy came in. He was still in his fighting clothes but he had the chains of office around his neck, wore the crown and held the scepter. “What a mob!” he said to Heller.

“I think the senior officers of most services are present, Your Majesty,” said Heller. “We can’t dig up any of the Lords: they’re either too slugged up with dope to move or they ran away.”

“Well, this isn’t a Grand Council meeting,” said Mortiiy. “It’s an emergency Officers’ Conference to dispose of matters of state prior to forming a government. What a MOB!”

Mortiiy walked up to the dais. Somebody tried to blow a trumpet and the note went sour. Somebody else dropped the cymbals. Mortiiy, beard bristling, yelled, “This Officers’ Conference is called to order!”

People drifted to the table but the hall was still a commotion. Mortiiy yelled, “Blast it! Shut up and sit down!”

At that moment some new notables burst in the front door and everything remained in a hubbub.

“Heller!” yelled Mortiiy, “For Gods’ sakes, get up here on the dais and take the post of Viceregal Chairman of the Crown! Maybe you can be heard above this mess!”

Heller blinked. It was the most senior aristocratic post of the realm. But, obediently, he jumped up on the dais beside Mortiiy. Heller raised his voice, using the piercing tone of a Fleet officer, “The meeting is called to order!”

Somebody else came bursting in the door, collided with one of Madison’s cameramen, and two Homeview lights fell down with a crash. The hubbub continued.

Heller drew his hand blastgun, set it to “noise” and fired it in the air. There was instant quiet.

“The meeting is started!” said Heller.

Madison gave a sigh of relief. He purred into the commentary mike, “The outlaw Heller is calling his bandit crew to order!”

Mortiiy started to speak but people were sitting down now and it was noisy. Heller reversed the handgun, held it by the muzzle and hit the table sharply three times.

“Beautiful,” said the director as he telephotoed in on the handgun.

PART EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter 7

Mortiiy was finally able to be heard. He swept a glance around the faces at the vast table and then across the hall.

“In 125,000 years,” he said, “we have never had such turmoil. We’ve had a few traitors, we have had a few civil wars, but nothing to compare with this.

“I’ve had an estimate that there are a million civilians dead in the streets, that property damage has mounted to tens of billions of credits. We also almost lost a planet—Calabar—which endured more than five years of heavy attack. I believe that that is also connected with this present scene.

“Before we can reorganize the government, we have to root out this disease and handle it or it could just happen all over again. I may have ideas of what was behind it, but I am not going to start my rule with guesses and prejudice. I mean to isolate exactly what caused this chaos and that is the first business of this conference.”

The senior admiral of the Fleet Admiral’s staff shouted from his place at the table, “It was Hisst!”

A snarl of agreement coursed throughout the crowded hall.

“One man?” said Mortiiy. “I’m more inclined to believe it was a conspiracy. But, all right, it’s as good a place as any to start. Who knows anything about Hisst?”

A savage roar swept through the room. Notables they might be and conservative to the core, but they had one thing in common: a violent hatred for Hisst. The Homeview monitors which were playing on the far wall were suddenly cut to crowd shots under the glaring lights of the streets where people were watching the conference on portable sets and viewers in store windows. The sound volume roared with hate.

Heller pounded his gun butt on the upper split-level of the table. He bent over to Mortiiy and indicated to him a young Fleet officer who, behind the row of admirals, was waving for attention.

“Bis?” said Mortiiy. Heller nodded. “Officer Bis,” shouted Mortiiy. “You have our attention.”

An admiral made room so Bis could get to the edge of the table. “Your Majesty,” said Bis, “I have an Apparatus clerk who knew Hisst when he was a young Apparatus officer. This man has been very helpful. As a matter of fact he’s under the conference table right now with Fleet technicians trying to get temporary power to the individual surface screens at the conference table seats and to the large center viewer here. We’re trying to shunt in Apparatus and other data banks for conference use.”

Bis bent over and yelled into the cavity under the table, “Hey, Bawtch. His Majesty wants to talk to you. Come out.”

Old Bawtch stuck his head up over the table rim. The gray hair tufts on either side of his head stuck straight out. His eyes were round and scared.

“Somebody give him a seat,” said Mortiiy. “Bawtch? Well, see here, Bawtch, if you go on being helpful I can promise you that we can forget your Apparatus connections. Tell us what you know of Lombar Hisst.”

Old Bawtch nervously took the offered seat. “It was the freaks.”

“Freaks?” said Mortiiy. “What do freaks have to do with it?”

“Well, when I was a young clerk, Your Majesty, I was assigned to the Exterior Division Intelligence Files and a new officer—Lombar Hisst—came in. This was fifty years ago, Your Majesty. I was filing some survey data from a planet named Blito-P3. It’s on the Invasion Timetable, Your Majesty, and we’ve got several thousand years of data on it because we’re going to invade and conquer it one of these days—as a matter of fact there’s been a lot of talk lately of stepping it up . . .”

“Don’t maunder,” said Mortiiy. “You started out talking about freaks.”

“Well, yes, Your Majesty. I was filing a pack of photographs from a circus run by P. T. Barnum. It had a two-headed calf (that’s an animal) and a boy with a dog face (a dog is another animal) and two women joined physically called Siamese twins and some others, and this young Hisst picked them up and began to laugh. And then he said, ‘With cellology we could go that one better’ and he took the whole pack.

“Then the next thing I knew, he had fished a criminal cellologist named Crobe out of a prison and they began to make freaks and sell them to circuses. Those were the first freaks ever exhibited.”

“How disgusting,” said Mortiiy. “‘P. T. Barnum’, you say? That doesn’t sound very Voltarian. I never heard of any circuses by that name.”

“No, Your Majesty. I didn’t make myself clear. The freak idea came from Blito-P3. Locally there, they call it Earth.”

“Well, that simply shows Hisst might be insane. Thank you for—”

“Wait, Your Majesty. It doesn’t end there. This Hisst started plaguing me for more data about that planet and the next thing I knew, a section had been created for it, Section 451, Exterior Division Intelligence.”

“You mean ‘Apparatus,’” said Mortiiy.

“No, Your Majesty. It wasn’t called the Apparatus then. This Lombar Hisst, as a young officer, seemed to gain an awful lot of influence very fast. He’d plague me for data on Blito-P3 and then he’d go to the then Chief of Intelligence or over his head to the Lord of the Exterior and Hisst would put it out as his own ideas and they’d institute it. They promoted him right and left. It was after he got the files on the various intelligence agencies on Blito-P3 that he got the name of our organization changed to the Coordinated Information Apparatus.

“Long before he was Chief of the Apparatus, Hisst had put here the provocation techniques of the Russian KGB: it’s a system of provoking people to commit crimes so you can arrest them. From the pattern of an organization known as the Schutzstaffel, in Germany, developed by a man named Hitler, we began to recruit criminals from the prisons to serve in the Apparatus. Our Death Battalions also come from there. From the CIA in the United States, the Apparatus got the idea of having an independent military force that would fight wars without the approval of the government. From the FBI of that same country, Lombar obtained the pattern they use of ruling the whole land by blackmailing legislative representatives and keeping those bodies in a state of terror by manufacturing crimes that never happened—called Abscams. We—”

“Hold it,” said Mortiiy. “You’re drowning me with names I never heard of.”

“Those are all from Blito-P3,” said Bawtch. “Locally called Earth. That’s where we got the pattern of our Apparatus from.”

A snarl went through the hall.

Madison’s hopes surged. Maybe he could capitalize on this sudden unpopularity of Earth. Maybe he could image Heller as the protector of that planet: Controversy was what he needed now. He said swiftly into the commentator mike, “The outlaw Heller for the whole past year has had his lair on the planet Earth.”

Heller, oblivious of the statements Madison was making and, indeed, completely unaware that Madison, behind his Homeview visor, was even in the hall, rapped his gun butt three times for order so Mortiiy could continue.

“So Hisst,” said Mortiiy, “was interested in the planet Earth so he could create the abomination called the Apparatus. I—”

“No, Your Majesty,” said Bawtch, “that wasn’t why Hisst was interested in that planet. It was the history of a family dynasty named the Rockecenters. They sprang up from a man who was a servant-raper about a century ago. The fellow sold a poison called crude oil for a cancer cure. He was a commoner. He brought up his sons to be thieves and one of them made a fortune out of this crude oil and then, by manipulating it and banks and taking over and using Earth intelligence services, he made himself and his generations that followed virtual emperors of the planet. Hisst was fascinated. He had never imagined before that it could be done. He himself was a commoner from the gutters of Slum City and he dreamed that if he followed this pattern, he could become Emperor here. And he did, even if very briefly.”

“You say all this happened,” said Mortiiy, “on the planet Earth? Incredible! What a weird place that must be!”

Madison hastily said into the commentary mike, “The outlaw Heller furthered his outlaw career on Earth by calling himself Rockecenter. This definitely proves his outlaw connections.”

Mortiiy nodded to Bawtch, signifying he could move away from the table or get back to work. “Now that we know where the Apparatus came from, I am open to a vote to abolish it forever and prohibit use of these criminal patterns of intelligence from Blito-P3.”

The assent vote was deafening. As Joy City cut back to crowds in cities massed in squares, watching or getting news of this conference, the Homeview monitors on the walls almost split apart with roars.

Madison said into the commentary mike, “The outlaw Heller studied Earth intelligence and was an expert in it. He advocates it thoroughly. In no small way, it contributed to his rise as an interplanetary outlaw.” He was feeling very hopeful now. He was building Controversy. He was getting Coverage. His Confidence was rising.

PART EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter 8

The palsied Grand Council clerk they had dug up was lagging in his transcript. Heller was keeping his own notes in his engineering log. He now leaned over to Mortiiy and whispered.

“Oh, yes!” said Mortiiy. And then in a louder voice, “We must now go about the business of choosing a new Grand Council.”

A general said, “Don’t use the ones we had. Those Lords became a bunch of drug addicts.”

An admiral said, “Before you can guarantee the new one won’t succumb, I make a motion that we prohibit drugs.”

Mortiiy said, “Do any of you know anything about drugs?”

The admiral in charge of medicine said, “We never used them in the Confederacy. We used various gases for surgery and such. From what I’ve seen of drugs, they’re poison.”

“We don’t have or grow or manufacture them on Voltar,” said the admiral in charge of contraband and space patrols. “The idea of drugs here originated with Lombar Hisst. We have an order not to stop any such cargos. It originated with Lombar Hisst.”

“Well, where did they come from?” said Mortiiy.

“The consoles on the table are working now,” said Bis. “I’m punching in the Fleet Intelligence analysis of it and also data on the use of drugs from the Apparatus files.”

The separate consoles in front of the seats were flickering and the huge one which occupied the center of the immense conference table lit up.

Mortiiy, from the higher level, stared down at it. He read it. “That’s impossible!” he said. “A whole planet going crazy with drugs?”

“That’s the analysis, Your Majesty,” said Bis. “They take them morning, noon and night. They feed them to the schoolchildren, the workmen and the aged. They even fight their wars with soldiers drugged to the hilt.”

“That’s Blito-P3 again!” said Mortiiy.

“It was Hisst’s secret weapon against Voltar,” said Bawtch, crawling out from under the table. “That was why he was mounting that premature invasion of Earth. To get more drugs so he could cave the Confederacy population in.”

“It ought to be invaded,” snarled Mortiiy. “But not to get more drugs.”

Heller punched a series of buttons under the edge of the table. The display changed. “Your Majesty,” he said, “there is already a Grand Council order criminalizing drug production on Voltar. I thought I better check. Here it is.”

“Then that’s done,” said Mortiiy.

“No, Your Majesty. That’s the trouble. It gave Hisst a monopoly. These laws prohibiting drugs exist also on Blito-P3. They are there to protect the real purveyors from competition and thus the governments help them to get wealthy. The answer is to decriminalize and to ignore drugs: they don’t profit people then and nobody is interested.”

“You seem to know something about this,” said Mortiiy.

“Well, a little bit,” said Heller. “Drugs are a rotten business. But when you pass a law against them they become a profitable business.”

“You mean Blito-P3 has laws against drugs and is loaded with them?”

“That’s the way they work it,” said Heller.

“The outlaw Heller,” said Madison into the commentator mike, “is being careful to protect his drug associates.”

“That planet is crazy,” said Mortiiy.

“This law here, Your Majesty, was proposed and passed by Hisst.”

That was enough. They wiped it from the books.

“Let’s get back to where we started,” said Mortiiy. “We were trying to get a new Grand Council.”

Some notable at the back of the hall yelled, “The Lords may have been on drugs, but several had sons. Why not appoint the sons.”

There was a mutter of approval in the hall. Bis leaned over to his admiral senior and that worthy said, “Gentlemen, Your Majesty, I have bad news for you there. Without a single exception, the sons of Lords here have become catamites.”

“WHAT?” said Mortiiy. “Where did that come from?”

“Your Majesty,” said the admiral, “we regret to tell you they were suborned by a very corrupt and perverted young girl who arrived here a few months ago and who, without doubt, should be executed for actually teaching sexual irregularities. I understand they are common on her home planet. She is an Earth girl. She comes from Blito-P3.”

“THAT planet again!” said Mortiiy. “First freaks, then corrupting governments with intelligence, then drugs and now catamites!”

A notable was waving his arms from the back of the crowd. “Your Majesty!” The man was making such a fuss that Mortiiy impatiently signaled for him to come forward to the table.

Heller had to rap several times to quiet the crowd so that the man could be heard.

“Your Majesty!” the fellow said, “I am Noble Arthrite Stuffy, the publisher of The Daily Speaker. I am here at the behest of dozens of publishers. You just mentioned freaks. I’ve been trying to get your attention ever since the name of Crobe came up. He is evidently a condemned criminal from Voltar that went away and returned with some false sciences called psychology and psychiatry. I came as soon as we knew there would be an Officers’ Conference. We want a law passed instantly to forbid the promulgation or use of these two subjects.”

“Why?” said Mortiiy.

“Your Majesty, those two subjects claim that sex is the basis for all motivation.”

“That’s nonsense,” said Mortiiy. “But it’s just some crackpot idea.”

“No, it isn’t, Your Majesty,” said Noble Arthrite Stuffy. “Those subjects are a pack of falsities and lies that are used to undermine the population, corrupt them and hold in power vicious governments run by insane men! Psychiatry and psychology played their role in bringing about the chaos we have just been through. Abolish them quick!”

“That’s quite a charge,” said Mortiiy. “I’ve never heard of these subjects. Where did they come from?”

“Blito-P3!” said Noble Arthrite Stuffy. “The planet Earth.”

“WHAT? That planet again?” roared Mortiiy.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The governments there use these subjects all the time. That’s why their population is so caved in. These were the subjects that began pushing drugs there.”

“Can you give me some example of how they helped overthrow the government here?” said Mortiiy.

“I’d rather not tell you in public, Your Majesty. It’s something very personal that we publishers have found out. If you don’t want more drugs, please pass this law!”

The Countess Krak had entered the hall from a rear door. She had walked up the steps behind the dais and whispered in Mortiiy’s ear, “You told me to report if your father showed any change. He told me to wish you luck and then went peacefully to sleep with a smile on his face. He seems very happy.”

“Thank you,” Mortiiy whispered back. Then, as a sudden afterthought, he said, “You were on Earth for a while. Do you know anything about subjects called psychology and psychiatry?”

“Oh, yes, Your Majesty,” Krak whispered back. “They’re awful. The governments there use them to maim and kill and drive people insane when they don’t like somebody. They teach all the schoolchildren they’re only animals so they’ll act like animals.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Mortiiy whispered back. “Sit down back of your man there. You’ll be interested in this.” Then more loudly he said, “I move that we proclaim psychology and psychiatry, in teaching and in practice, against the law.”

There was a growl of assent and it was done.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Flick to Madison.

“They can’t legislate against the truth that men are just rotten animals. Don’t worry. I’ve got this under control. I’ll have them hunting Heller again before you know it.”

He gave a signal to the director to get a close shot of Krak. He said into the commentator mike, “I hope you noticed, folks, that the gun moll of the outlaw Heller is working her wiles on the Emperor. Is there scandal in the wind? Or is this just a ploy by Heller to prepare the way to kidnap Mortiiy? Time will tell. Watch your Homeview and stay tuned!”

Little did Madison know that he was about to precipitate the wipeout of the planet Earth!