*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 64359 ***

                       Spoilers of the Spaceways

                         By W. BRADFORD MARTIN

                  _Out beyond hyper-space soared the
              transmuted Terran--to Trygon II--where all
                mad men die willingly for the Empress._

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                       Planet Stories July 1953.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


It could be said that the Resistance began at the moment the great
spaceship from Trygon II first appeared as an unknown body on the
photographic plates at Palomar, for while the astronomers propounded
theories as to its origin and composition, it entered our atmosphere
and came to earth on the runways of Idlewild Airport, just outside of
what was then New York City. Nothing need be said of the panic caused
by its coming.

Three Trygonians went immediately in a ground car to the United
Nations Building in the city. The records of their pronouncement have,
unfortunately, been lost, but from subsequent events it has been
established that they granted Terra fifteen days to submit to Trygonia.

Then they returned to space.

Fifteen days later they returned and crushed the feeble opposition they
encountered.

       *       *       *       *       *

Ross Savage was tired of seeing nothing but white; the walls and
ceiling of his small, windowless room, the few pieces of utilitarian
furniture and the sheets covering the narrow bed, which sagged under
the weight of his muscularly massive, six-foot five-inch frame. He
was tired too, of the white bandages on his hands and, although he
could not see them, the white bandages that swathed his head and face,
leaving only slits for his eyes and mouth.

Today is the day, he thought. Why don't they come? As if in answer to
his unspoken question the door latch clicked. Savage turned his head
stiffly to watch the door open. As it swung wide the doctor entered,
followed by General Strathmore and two nurses guiding a wheeled tray.

"It's time to take them off," the doctor said. No one answered, but
Savage felt his hands grow sweaty in their wrappings.

As the group reached the bed a nurse handed the doctor a pair of
surgical scissors. He bent over Savage as he said, "We'll take the
hands first."

There was no sound other than the snip-snip of the scissors as the
doctor carefully cat through the gauze. Finally the sound stopped and
Savage looked at his hands. They were white and soft, but there were no
scars to betray the fingerprint change.

The doctor permitted himself a small smile of satisfaction, but the
room was pregnant with tension as he turned his attention to the gauze
covering Savage's head.

The snip-snip came again as the cold steel slid slowly over his skin.
An eternity passed before the sound again ceased and a nurse carefully
removed the freed gauze. For a long moment there was no sound and
Savage looked anxiously from face to face and tried to interpret what
he read there. The nurses stared in disgust and horror while the doctor
looked satisfied. The General beamed.

"Beautiful job," the General said finally, and the doctor nodded in
agreement.

"Let me see," Savage croaked through stiff lips.

A nurse took the hand mirror from the bedside table and held it in
front of him. From the glass the bearded face of a Trygonian stared at
him; there was no mistaking the narrow chin, the high, broad cheekbones
and aquiline nose.

       *       *       *       *       *

Almost a month later Savage stood at attention in the General's office.
He wore the flamboyantly brilliant uniform of a Trygonian officer.
Medals and orders sparkled on his breast. His new face wore a sardonic
scowl.

"Fleet captain Choon reporting, sir," he said, and the General's stern
face relaxed to a half smile.

"Sit down, Ross," the General invited and indicated the chair beside
his desk. "So you're ready to go, eh? How do you like yourself?"

"Well," Savage smiled, "I have to keep myself from going for my gun
when I see myself in a mirror, but outside of that I'm pretty used to
it by now."

"We've made tremendous strides in the twenty years since we went
underground. I guess it was the pressure. But Phillips told me that by
every test you're a Trygonian. I hope however, that you haven't become
one emotionally. That was the one thing we were afraid of when we
decided to use the Ceregraph. Choon died, of course, but how was it for
you?"

"Nothing to it, sir. I just seemed to go to sleep and when I awoke I
knew everything Choon knew, but Doctor Phillips almost drove me crazy
testing me to find out whether I'd picked up Choon's mental outlook.
Apparently, though, the Ceregraph transfers only knowledge, not
emotions."

"Thank the Lord," exclaimed the General heavily.

"I want to thank you for this opportunity," Savage said. "I've wanted
to do something concrete against them since they killed my parents
twenty years ago."

"Whether or not you can do something concrete is up to you." The
General was stern again. "You were chosen because of your physical and
mental qualifications. You just happened to be Choon's exact physical
double. Fortunately he was rather shorter than the average Trygonian."

"Doctor Phillips told me that, except for size, there is no anatomical
difference between the Trygonians and ourselves," said Savage. "It
is his theory that the highest intelligent life form on any planet
suitable to the evolution of intelligent life will be a humanoid type."

"That may be possible, but exact duplication seems strange," the
General said. "Although I'm interested in Trygon I haven't had a chance
to read your report. I think you have time to fill me in on some of the
details. Why do they call their planet Trygon II?"

"Trygon is the name of their sun," explained Savage. "Their system
consists of three planets, Trygon I, II and III. Until about seven
hundred years ago only the middle planet, Trygon II was inhabited by
their race. Then they discovered a method of utilizing Solar energy
directly and what amounted to a social revolution took place.

"At the time, Trygon II was divided into a number of countries. The
discovery was made in a country called Czur and with it Czur conquered
the rest of the planet. They used pretty brutal methods, but they
welded the entire planet into one country using one language and having
one ruler.

"Space was the next step and they explored the other planets. The
innermost one was hot and lush and eventually they tamed it and now
they grow all their food there. The third planet, as might be expected
was cold and bare, but it was fantastically rich in minerals. They
transferred their mining and manufacturing to the third planet, leaving
Trygon II the center of trade, the rich and the military.

"There are a number of commercial space-ports but only one military.
It's near the capital city, named Czur in honor of the country that
started it all.

"Two hundred years ago they ventured into deep space. Earth is the
fifth humanoid planet they have conquered."

"That's quite a history," said the General. "What form of government do
they have?"

"Autocratic. The Emperor is the supreme authority, but the High
Commissioner works out the details and sees that the orders are carried
out. All military matters are in the hands of the Emperor and in that
respect the High Commissioner is just a figure head. As you can imagine
there is a good deal of intrigue."

"Yes, I can see that there would be," agreed the General. He glanced at
the wall clock. "But it's almost H-hour."

"Are there any last orders?" Savage asked.

The General smiled wryly. "It might be said that there were no first
orders. You're on your own, Ross. We don't know what you can do, but if
you can get into one of their intrigue groups you should be able to do
something. The rank of Fleet captain carries a lot of weight. All I can
say is be careful and do your best.

"The skeleton crew is moving out and the station is going on automatic
as soon as you leave."

Savage stood up, saluted and then the General took his hand and shook
it warmly. Savage turned and walked out of the office without looking
back.

Outside two guards waited and they walked together down a long hall to
a bare, cement-walled room. There was only one way to make sure that he
would look like an escaped prisoner and they had to make sure. So they
fought and when they were through, his uniform was a sad caricature of
its former splendor and he had the beginnings of a black eye.

He shook hands with the two men and then went up three flights of
stairs where the Trygonian patrol ship waited. There was no one in
sight as he climbed into the ship and roared away, but anti-aircraft
guns opened up almost immediately. Savage smiled grimly as he saw the
shells burst a safe distance from him.

       *       *       *       *       *

Then, as he was almost out of range, the ship lurched from the blast
of a near miss. A hole appeared in the hull beside him and he saw his
sleeve rip and redden as a fragment cut across his arm. He switched on
the automatics and cursed the unknown gunner as he crudely bandaged the
flesh wound with part of his already torn shirt. At least, he thought
finally, it would add verisimilitude to his story.

An hour later he crash-landed on the outskirts of what had once been
Denver, Colorado, and what was now the Trygonian Capital for North
America. Then he settled down to wait for the Trygonians.

Something less than ten minutes passed before a ground car skidded to
a stop near the wrecked ship. Two Trygonian soldiers jumped out with
hand-blasters at the ready. More sedately, as befitted his rank, a
Senior Lieutenant followed and Savage walked briskly to meet him. The
Lieutenant eyed Savage dubiously for a brief moment and then snapped to
the salute.

"At ease," Savage ordered. "Take me to Headquarters immediately."

"Yes, sir," the Lieutenant replied and followed Savage into the car. It
was evident that he was wondering why such an exalted personage as a
full Fleet captain should appear in a single place patrol ship and in
this condition, but Savage let him wonder. The soldiers reentered the
car and they sped away with a full-throated roar.

Savage remained grimly silent as they roared through the Trygonian
capital. Trygonians were everywhere, but still Earthmen predominated,
and Savage wondered what had induced them to remain. There were
probably many reasons, he decided, for man in spite of everything must
live somewhere and he must eat. After twenty years they were probably
used to it.

He had lived briefly in Denver as a child, but nothing remained now of
the city he had known. The old buildings had been blasted during the
invasion and starkly functional ferro-concrete had replaced the rubble.
At the very site of the old State Capitol the Trygonians had raised a
towering structure to house the offices of the High Command.

They filed into the building and, as the Lieutenant had done, the honor
guard eyed him dubiously before snapping to attention. Savage strode
haughtily between them and finally, after a succession of guards and
lesser officers, he was ushered into the presence of Vice Admiral Harna
lor-Harna.

"Fleet captain Choon," he announced.

The Admiral was tremendous. He towered a full foot over Savage and his
heavily decorated uniform was stretched tightly over a majestic paunch.
His great jowls moved loosely as he boomed:

"Choon, by the great Galactic Gods. I knew your father on the old
Arrano. He was the best Executive Officer I ever had.

"But sit down--you may leave, Lieutenant--and tell me what you are
doing here. What happened to your uniform?"

"I was taken by the Terrans." The Admiral's eyes became icy chips. "I
have just escaped from a Terran stronghold...."

"Have you, by the Eternal Stars," the Admiral interrupted. "Too many
of our men have vanished in spite of reprisals, but this is the first
definite proof of an organized movement. Where is it?"

"About five hundred ling North in the mountains," Savage said and the
Admiral went into action. With his left hand he flipped a switch and a
colored relief map of the area sprang into view on the wall, while with
his right hand he pushed up a row of communicator buttons.

"Ready three attack units for immediate takeoff," he roared. "I will
take personal command. Have my car at gate three."

With the buttons still up he asked, "What is the exact location?"

Savage moved quickly to the map and examined it closely. After a
moment's hesitation he said, "As closely as I can make it, it was zone
three, sector five. It was well camouflaged."

The Admiral roared the location into the communicator and slammed down
the buttons. With swiftness surprising for one of his bulk he strode to
the door.

"You will come with me in my flagship, Choon. These miserable savages
won't give us much of a fight, but it may be of some interest. We'll
both be decorated for this."


                                  II

An hour and twenty minutes later the fifteen unit fleet was hovering
high over the Canadian Rockies, zone three, sector five. At the
Admiral's direction Savage examined the mountain below through the
electronic scanners. Although he knew there was no one left in the
hidden cavern below him it was an effort to point it out, it had been
his home for a long time.

The Admiral barked co-ordinates into the microphone and then barked
an order. One ship detached itself from the formation and dived
toward the hidden entrance of the cavern, its heat guns burning great
swaths through trees and brush. It made a second pass and antiquated
anti-aircraft guns opened up, tearing the air futilely.

Savage barely suppressed a start of surprise before remembering that
the guns were automatic-radar controlled.

The Admiral roared into the microphone again: "Squadron three cover,
one and two land and deploy for attack. Remember, I want prisoners."

As the ships descended the anti-aircraft guns opened up again from
their now revealed turrets and as they fired the Trygonian guns blasted
them into so much molten scrap. Finally they were completely silenced
and the attack ships landed and the soldiers deployed. They were almost
to the entrance and Savage was beginning to wonder what had happened to
the trips, when an Atomic blast took away the side of the mountain.

The troops and five Trygonian ships went with it.

The Admiral had had within his grasp a stronghold of the resistance
and he had lost it. It could be argued that the loss could not have
been avoided, but in his service such an argument was not admissible. A
full report was sent to Trygon II and both the Admiral and Choon were
recalled.

The three ships which first found Terra had been equipped with ordinary
Space Drive and had been in space for more than eighteen years. Lacking
a radio which would cover the immense distance, one of the ships had
taken a second eighteen years to make a report of the conquest. But in
the meantime both space radio and Space Warp had been achieved, and
forty-five days after the abortive attack they were on Trygon II.

They were placed under house arrest in hotel suites and two days later
the Admiral was given a swift trial. He was demoted three grades and
then given permission to retire.

Having extracted the penalty for failure from its Admiral the Supreme
Command would next turn its attention to erring Fleet captain; capture
by the enemy was bad enough, but he had given the information which had
led to serious losses. Confined in his suite he waited anxiously for
two days more without receiving word and then he received a visit from
a Captain Lin.

After identifying himself, Lin said, "You are in serious trouble with
the High Commissioner, sir, and not about your capture or the attack on
the Terran stronghold. At least, not directly. You had better sit down
while I tell you what happened."

"I will stand, thank you," Savage said coldly.

"As you wish, sir. It's hard to believe, but every file and record
concerning you for the past two years, as well as the records of the
trial have been either destroyed or rewritten. Officially, you are here
on leave. And to top it off lor-Harna was found dead this morning. The
evidence pointed to suicide, but it is believed to be murder."

"What?" exclaimed Savage and found a chair.

"The High Commissioner is blowing his jets," continued Lin with thinly
veiled excitement. "He doesn't know how it was done, but he suspects
that the Empress ordered it. If that's the case his hands are tied,
but in the meantime he'll do anything to get you.

"I have been instructed to advise you to deny everything except that
you are indeed home on leave. Incidentally, no one is to know of my
visit."

"How about the guards?" Savage asked.

Lin smiled. "I am in command of the guard detail. I must return to duty
now, but please remember that you are a person of extreme importance
and as such you must be very careful."

Before Savage could reply, Lin turned on his heel and left the room,
leaving him to ponder this sudden turn of events. How could anyone
change everything so completely, he wondered. If it was on the Empress'
order, why should she take such an interest in him? Why should Lin give
him the information? Who did he represent?

An hour later a knock on the door brought him out of his private Hell.

       *       *       *       *       *

The panel slid open and a Lieutenant in the jet black uniform of the
Fleet CID strode in importantly. Behind him come four enlisted men in
the same uniform, two of whom planted themselves firmly beside the door
with their hands on open-holstered blasters. The other two wheeled in
an equipment table.

Savage waited with silent calm while the Lieutenant crossed the room
and drew himself to attention. Then he asked sharply:

"What is the meaning of this intrusion? I demand every courtesy of
house arrest and this does not fall in that category."

"I am under the explicit orders of the High Commissioner," the officer
said icily. "Any complaints should be addressed to him. I have also
been instructed to take any necessary action to carry out my orders."

"And what are they?" Savage parried.

"Please be good enough to follow me to the table," the officer said,
fingering his blaster. Savage followed.

At the table the officer flipped a switch and from somewhere in the
apparatus came a muffled hum. Then a flat plate set into the surface of
the table glowed and Savage was instructed to place his hands, palms
down, on the plate. He did so and the officer pushed a button.

"You may remove your hands," he said and bent over a double eyepiece.
After adjusting and readjusting a pair of knobs he raised his head
and gave Savage a surprised look. He bent down again and made new
adjustments. At last he straightened up. His voice lacked some of its
former arrogance as he said, "Thank you, sir."

The Lieutenant and his men left without saying anything further and
Savage wondered what they had tried to prove with a fingerprint check.
Apparently, however, the High Commissioner was covering every angle.
The episode gave Savage a momentary feeling of pleasure, which however
was quickly replaced by his former doubts.

Several hours passed, during which he had lunch, before a knock
again sounded. This time, as the door slid open, Savage could see
a double row of crimson-uniformed men, the personal guard of the
High Commissioner himself. The guards stiffened to attention as the
Commissioner appeared, followed by a group of high ranking officers.

Now what, Savage wondered as he ram-rodded his spine and saluted.

The group stopped in front of Savage and the Commissioner didn't bother
to conceal his distaste as he announced without preamble, "His Supreme
Mightiness, Emperor Hlar, Ruler of the Universe, has seen fit to bestow
upon you, Fleet Captain Jarlon Choon, the Order of Trygon."

At the mention of the decoration an officer stepped forward with a
flat, gold case. Opening it, he took from it a heavy golden chain, from
which depended a jewel encrusted medallion. This he hung about Savage's
neck. Then he stepped back into position and the Commissioner went on:

"I am further instructed to inform you that you have been promoted
to the rank of Commodore. Commodore Loong here will give you further
orders."

Savage's senses reeled from this succession of shocks as the
Commissioner turned and strode out with his retinue, leaving only the
officer who had presented the decoration.

Loong waited until the door was completely closed and then he laughed
uproariously. Savage could only look at him with amazement until he
finally stopped and said, "Did you see the look on his face? I think he
would almost rather have marooned himself on an asteroid."

"I don't understand," Savage said.

"To tell you the truth, I don't either," Loong replied. "Have you ever
been to Court?"

"I was born in Space," said Savage.

"That checks and that's what puzzles me. I have been reliably informed
that it was the Empress' agents who caused the alteration of your
records. In addition to that, Palace gossip has it that she persuaded
the Emperor to honor and promote you. The Emperor was against it.
You saw for yourself how the High Commissioner felt. What's the
explanation?"

"I have none," Savage replied stiffly.

Loong glanced at him sharply and said, "In addition the Empress expects
you at the Palace this evening. Full dress uniform is required, of
course. I think you should also wear this." He produced a small,
holstered needle gun. "It's not as messy as a blaster, but just as
effective at close range. Above all, be careful. You have very few
friends."

       *       *       *       *       *

Savage took the gun and went to his room to change. Things were moving
a little too swiftly. Why was the Empress so interested in him? There
were a lot of unanswered questions and no immediate way to get the
answers. He dressed quickly, strapped the needle gun to his left wrist,
and returned to the living room.

"How do you fit in?" he asked Loong bluntly.

"As an officer in the Space Fleet I am under the orders of the Emperor,
the Empress and the High Commissioner," he answered evasively. "I have
arranged for a car. The driver has his instructions."

"You are not coming?" Savage asked.

"No, but I'll be here when you return. In the meantime I've ordered
supper."

The brilliantly lighted Palace was thronged with splendid uniforms
and lavish gowns and the main hall was a babble of sound. It stilled
abruptly when the name of Commodore Choon was announced. All eyes were
on him as a servant guided him across the floor; the women gazing at
him with frank speculation and the assembled officers and statesmen
with envy or thinly veiled hatred. Loong was right, he had few friends.

He was led up the long, curving flight of stairs and the babble burst
out anew behind him. At the end of a long hall they stopped before
a plain door and the servant rapped lightly. Without waiting for an
answer he opened the door and motioned Savage inside.

The Empress was regally beautiful, tall and slim in a sweeping,
brilliantly hued gown. Although she was more than twice Savage's age
neither her face or figure showed it. She extended her hand as Savage
crossed the room and knelt before her. He kissed her hand and she said:

"Rise, Commodore Choon, son of Admiral Choon. Come, sit beside me."

"Thank you," said Savage.

"A long time ago I knew your father very well," she said. She smiled
reminiscently and murmured, "Very well. And we too shall know each
other well. You are fully as handsome as he was." And so, one question
was answered.

He remained with her a long time, and when he retraced his steps to the
main hall he found it more crowded than before. Again all conversation
ceased as he entered the main hall and he could feel countless hostile
eyes on him. He felt decidedly uncomfortable as he crossed the
seemingly endless room and he felt himself walking too stiffly. He
tried to relax, but instead he found himself pressing the needle gun
against his side to make sure it was still there.

Finally he reached the great double doors and he heard speculative
murmurs behind him as the footmen opened them. This was the heart of
a powerful interplanetary empire and yet it was no different than the
courts of Europe during the heyday of the ancient kings.

His chauffeured car waited outside the Palace and in a moment he was
speeding down the winding roadway through barely visible gardens and
groves. Then they passed the gates to the public highway. As they
slowed and turned the corner there came the flare of heat guns.

The glassite windows on the attacked side turned a rosy pink and then
went black. The interior of the car became insufferably hot. The
chauffeur cursed and trod heavily on the accelerator and the car shot
forward. Flame licked at them, until they were out of range.

The driver mopped his brow as he said, "It's a good thing she's got
full armor. Even so, I thought we'd had it."

"Yes," snapped Savage.

They roared through the now almost deserted streets without further
incident. On his guard now, Savage had the little needle gun in his
hand when they stopped in front of the hotel. The doorman stepped
forward and pulled open the door. He looked into the car and his hand
flashed into his uniform. Savage fired.

The gun made no sound, but the doorman gave a choking gasp and fell
into the car.

"Quick, sir, pull him all the way in," Savage heard the chauffeur
whisper. "There were no witnesses. I'll take care of him."

Without stopping to think Savage followed the chauffeur's advice and
dragged the heavy weight into the car while the chauffeur alighted and
came around to help him. Finally they closed the door on the body and,
still without witnesses, the chauffeur drove it away.

In his suite, Savage found Loong waiting.

"Good morning," Loong smiled. "How did everything go?"

"Just fine," Savage replied. "Not only do I have no friends, I have
some active enemies."

"You were attacked?" Loong asked calmly.

"Twice," Savage said. "You don't seem very surprised."

"I rather expected it, but you seem to have survived. What happened?"

Savage told him in a few brief sentences and when he was finished Loong
said:

"This is better than I had hoped."

"Better than you'd hoped," Savage exclaimed. "What am I, a target for
your friends to shoot at?"

"They are no friends of mine," Loong answered. "You've been in Space
for a long time. I'd better fill you in on recent history right now."


                                  III

It was at that point that Savage was shocked to find that the anger
seething inside him was not that of Terran toward Trygonian, but of one
Trygonian toward another, or one Terran toward another. He found too
that, in spite of the uncertainty he felt about Loong, he was actually
beginning to like him. He wondered then if Doctor Phillip's tests were
accurate.

"That's better," Loong smiled when Savage sat down. "Here, have a drink
and I'll tell you what I think the shooting is about."

Savage took the proffered glass and waited expectantly.

"As you know," Loong began, "Kalnor was Emperor until Hlar, then
High Commissioner, staged a coup d'etat. Kalnor and his family were
murdered and Hlar proclaimed himself Emperor. Czako, our present High
Commissioner, was Captain of the household Guard and was elevated to
his present lofty position as a reward for his part in the conspiracy.

"During the years you have been in space our esteemed High Commissioner
has secretly been laying the groundwork for a coup of his own. The
situation is really quite simple; the Emperor wants to remain Emperor,
while Czako wants to become Emperor. Fortunately, at the moment neither
seems powerful enough to dispose of the other.

"Now consider the situation as it applies to you. A formerly unknown
and unnoticed Fleet captain has suddenly been decorated and promoted on
the orders of Hlar himself, and this after records concerning him were
altered. He has been invited to the private chambers of the Empress,
where few men are invited. The High Commissioner fears the Emperor and
Hlar is jealous of his wife. So...."

Loong spread his hands expressively to finish the sentence, but Savage
needed no more.

"That's clear enough," he said, "but how do you fit in?"

"I am the faithful servant of the Emperor and his representative, the
High Commissioner."

"You said that before," Savage said.

Loong just spread his hands again. Then he asked abruptly:

"What do you think of our planetary policies?"

The question took Savage aback. "What do you mean?" he stalled.

"I mean our policy of immediate conquest and subjugation of any
inhabited planet we discover," Loong replied.

"That depends," said Savage carefully. He drank slowly, watching Loong
over the edge of the glass.

"On what I think?" smiled Loong. "I know what I think. I want your
opinion."

Savage decided to take a chance. "I believe a friendly, diplomatic
approach would be a far better method," he said. "For example, in the
case of Terra...."

"Exactly," Loong interrupted heatedly. "Nothing permanent is gained by
force. A conquered people will not remain so forever."

Savage's glass suddenly slipped from his hand. As though from a great
distance he watched the liquid splash on the rug and then the room
seemed to be receding in the distance. He tried to rise, urgently
aware of his dangers, but instead he felt himself collapse. Then all
sensation ceased.

He had no idea how much later it was when he awakened in his own
bedroom. Other than a slight headache he felt no effects of the drug.
He saw that the Trygonian day had come again, but that meant nothing;
he could have been unconscious for several days. Then he rolled over
and found that Loong was sitting beside the bed.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," Loong said calmly, "but I had to be sure."

"Sure of what?" Savage said, checking an impulse to say more violent
things.

"Your sympathies."

"And?"

Loong reached inside his tunic and brought out a needle gun. "Your
scientists did an excellent piece of work."

"What do you mean?" Savage asked, and at the same time knew there was
no escape.

"I mean that you are a Terran. You betrayed yourself under hypnosis."

Savage knew the bitter feeling of utter defeat. He had accomplished
nothing and now this was the end. But Loong wasn't wearing the look of
triumph that was to have been expected. Instead he was smiling and he
put the gun away as he said:

"I should hate to see you executed. I wasn't just talking last night
when I disagreed with our policies. I think a friendly and mutually
beneficial relationship can and should be established between our
planets."

"That's fine," said Savage, "but what can you do about it?"

"That remains to be seen," answered Loong. "I propose that we join
forces. The fact that you have been able to come this far makes you a
worthy ally. And without me you can do nothing. Is it agreed?"

"Yes," said Savage.

"Excellent. I have several matters to attend to, but I will return at
six. As a recently returned space officer it will be expected that you
enter social life to a certain extent and I think it best that you
begin tonight."

       *       *       *       *       *

After Loong had gone Savage cursed himself for a fool, yet he thanked
the gods that he was still alive. Something could still be made of
this. A vague, uncrystallized thought was gnawing at his mind. He
jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. He was not surprised to find
that Loong had left him the needle gun. Without bothering with food he
went to the State Library.

His rank carried him into the innermost recesses of the great library,
to the guarded tape banks where the most accurate information was to be
found. After a quick search of the index he selected two tapes and then
took one of the many unoccupied reading booths.

He slipped the first tape, an ancient history of Trygon II to fill the
blanks in Choon's education, into the projector, and all thought of
time left him as he slumped down in the soft chair before the screen.
It wasn't long before he realized that a rough parallel could be drawn
between the early histories of Trygon and Terra.

There had been wars and famines and great empires, but Trygon had
progressed more rapidly, without the great recessions Terra had known.
Three-quarters of a century before the beginning of Atomics on Terra,
Trygonian scientists had already harnessed solar energy. At that point
the parallel ended.

It was already late when he turned to the history of the Kalnor family.
He found that they had ruled for almost a century--first Czur, then
Trygon II and finally the System and the Empire. There had been periods
when usurpers had gained control, but always the Kalnors had returned,
until finally Klar, determined to put an end to the family, had
destroyed them. The tape hinted vaguely that there had been a survivor
and then immediately discredited the thought.

Then the tape came to an end and Savage put them both away. Things were
somewhat cleared now.

Loong, in a full dress uniform hung heavily with decorations, was again
waiting when Savage returned to the hotel.

"What were you doing at the State Library?" Loong asked after they had
exchanged guardedly friendly salutations.

"Doing a little checking," Savage said calmly. "I have a theory that
I'm working on. By the way, I haven't eaten all day. Will you order
something for me while I change?"

"I have already done so. You'll find a fresh full dress in the bedroom.
You can tell me about your theory when you're finished."

Savage went to the bedroom and found beside the fresh uniform a belted
holster containing a larger version of the needle gun he still wore.
As he hefted it the reason for his presence on Trygon II came to him
again, and he thought about Loong.

By training and instinct he should have hated him and all Trygonians
for what they had done to his people, but he found it a hard struggle
to achieve that feeling. He liked and somehow trusted Loong and at
the same time he still wanted freedom for Terra. Still pondering the
problem he dressed quickly, not neglecting to buckle on the gun, and
returned to the living room.

A food laden table awaited him. Loong poured drinks as he entered and
gave him one.

"What is your theory?" Loong asked.

"It's not definite yet. I'll tell you when it is."

"Very well," replied Loong. "I want to apologize again for last night."

"I'd have done the same thing," Savage said.

They ate quickly and in silence. When they were through, Loong declared:

"You're in for a treat tonight. I have reservations at the Club Galaxy."

"Oh?" said Savage with polite interest. He had seen or heard the name
somewhere, but it meant nothing to him.

"We'll have to hurry or we'll miss the first show," Loong said, and
pushed back his chair. "I have a car waiting outside."

"Armored?" Savage asked.

"Completely."

       *       *       *       *       *

The existence of the Club Galaxy was discreetly proclaimed by a small,
lighted sign and inside the theme of smallness was continued. Packed
into its narrow confines was the highest strata of Trygonian society,
uniforms predominating. They were guided to a microscopic ringside
table just as the already dim lights dimmed still further.

From somewhere came soft, gentle music and a spotlight went on to
reveal a male trio. They sang a song, barely heard over the buzz of
conversation, and then bowed themselves out to the accompaniment of a
light spattering of applause. Then the lights faded out completely and
the spotlight cut off. All conversation ceased and an air of expectancy
filled the room.

With an unexpectedness that made Savage catch his breath, the music
crashed out in a wild, driving rhythm. The spotlight cut suddenly
through the dark and caught a whirling figure in the center of the
floor. The audience gave a gasp of appreciation in which Savage shared.

The dancer spun on her toes, a tall, long-legged girl in the briefest
of costumes, her long hair flashing in a golden circle. She broke the
spin abruptly and danced with flashing feet and writhing body to the
wild rhythms. She moved with the precision of a fine machine, yet with
the graceful beauty of a wild cat.

She gave a magnificent performance and when the spotlight suddenly cut
out, her audience shouted its approval. But when the lights went on
again she had disappeared and, in spite of the ovation, she did not
return to the floor.

"She never takes a bow," Loong explained, "but you will meet her
shortly."

A waiter suddenly loomed large over them and Loong spoke to him briefly
and he went away again. They made small talk and presently the waiter
returned, bearing three glasses and a decanter of purple liquor. Savage
questioned the third glass with the raise of an eyebrow.

"Larhana is to join us," Loong explained. "It is a great honor to be
favored with her presence at one's table."

Almost as if summoned by Loong's words she appeared on the opposite
side of the floor. She crossed it with the same easy grace she had
shown in her dance, her hair flowing gently down over her bare
shoulders as she moved. Although she had typically Trygonian features,
Savage thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He
wondered if it was Choon's influence again.

They stood to receive her and Savage found that she was as tall as he.

"May I present Commodore Jarlon Choon," Loong said and Savage bowed.

"Delighted, Commodore. I have heard a great deal about you." Her green
eyes sparkled at him mischievously.

"I am honored ..." Savage began, but a harsh voice behind him
interrupted:

"Choon, the Empress' lover, is trying to make another conquest."

Savage spun around, his fists clenched, but Loong grabbed his arm.

"Careful," he whispered urgently, "that's Satish, the High
Commissioner's right hand man."

Savage shrugged him off and, remembering the formula, said:

"You have affronted my honor, sir. Who is your friend?"

Attention had been drawn to them at the arrival of Larhana, but this
exchange brought all eyes on them. Satish stood up, towering over
Savage, and said thickly:

"Captain Droga will act for me."

"Let it pass," interjected Loong. "He is drunk."

"Not too drunk to teach this whelp to respect his superiors," Satish
bellowed. "Captain Droga, make the arrangements."

His distaste for the affair evident, Loong reluctantly conferred with
Captain Droga, while the two principals stood aloofly silent. In the
end it was decided that the duel was to take place immediately on the
grounds of the Palace of the Stars. The choice of weapons was Savage's
and he decided on needle guns.

Satish and his two companions stamped out and Savage turned to Larhana,
who had stood silently by.

"I deeply apologize for causing you this embarrassment," he said.

She looked at him soberly for a moment. Then she smiled and gave him
her hand.

"Until we meet again," she said.

"Thank you," he said and turned away, reluctant to leave her. A lane
opened through the hostile faces surrounding them. They walked out
quickly and found their car waiting.

"Now you've done it," Loong said as they entered the car. "Satish is
deadly with the needle gun. If you lose, the High Commissioner will
have my head for being your second."

"And if I should win?" Savage asked.

"I don't know. We may be able to salvage something if I can get to
the Commissioner first. But we're not ready yet. The 'Agreet' is just
beginning her trials in the morning, and I've had word that you are to
be her captain. We must have her if we are to do anything at all."

"And as her captain, you must have me," Savage said.

"Not exactly, but it would be a help."

"We'll have to see what happens," Savage said and relaxed against the
cushions.


                                  IV

They raced through the crowded streets and then out of the city. A
short time later they pulled to a stop on the dueling grounds and found
that Satish had already arrived. Savage moved to open the door and
Loong said:

"Wait. I'm taking no chances."

He opened a compartment built into the back of the driver's seat and
took out a pair of heat guns. He buckled one to his belt and gave the
other to the chauffeur with instructions to keep his eyes open.

"All right," he said, "we're as prepared as we'll ever be. I just hope
you can shoot straight."

The two parties met in the middle of the field and a further discussion
took place between Loong and Droga. The car lights were to provide
illumination and their positions were established. Then the guns were
examined. Finally Satish and Savage were placed in position with ten
yards between them and the guns were given them. The seconds backed
away.

"Under the rules you will raise your guns and fire one shot at the
count of three," Loong said loudly. "Only head shots are permitted. If
both miss, honor is satisfied, and the principals will leave the field.
Your guns down, please, I am about to count."

Savage braced his feet and stood relaxed, a light, firm grip on his gun.

"One."

What was the connection between Larhana and Loong, Savage wondered, and
what was Loong's plan?

"Two."

He had to go along with Loong, he decided. His comments on the Terran
situation presented interesting possibilities. Larhana was the most
beautiful woman he had ever known.

"Three."

With a swift, continuous motion Savage swung up the gun, centered the
sights and pressed the stud. There was no sound, no sensation, and
for a moment he thought they had both missed. Then Satish swayed and
crumpled.

Savage lowered his gun. Under the rules he had to remain in position
until notified of the results. Others ran to Satish. Loong bent over
him briefly and then shouted, "He's dead."

Savage walked toward the huddled group and as he approached, Droga
protested.

"That was not a head shot," he said heatedly. "Look, it grazed the chin
and entered the neck."

"I beg to differ," Loong countered.

"I insist," argued Droga. "I demand satisfaction."

"I concur with Captain Droga," broke in Satish's second companion. "I
will act for him."

"But ..." Loong protested and Savage interrupted:

"If he insists, he insists. It is his right."

They were quickly placed in position and again Loong counted. At
"Three" Savage again swung up the needle gun and pressed the stud.
Droga's head snapped back as his shot entered the ground almost at
Savage's feet.

Savage remained in position until Loong summoned him.

"There's no doubt about it this time," Loong said triumphantly. "Right
between the eyes."

"Honor is satisfied," said Satish's second companion and he turned
away. He walked a step and spun around, a blaster in his hand. A
blaster cut him in half. Loong's chauffeur had kept his eyes open.

Then there came a blaze of heat, this time from Satish's car, and flame
burned the grass beside them. Loong's chauffeur turned his attention
to the car. A stink filled the air. Loong worked his heat gun and they
made their way back to their car behind a wall of fire. They roared
away and there was no fire from the other car.

"I didn't think a heat gun was any good for spot shooting," the
chauffeur apologized, "so I used a blaster."

"Good thing," said Loong, "or we'd all been fried."

He opened the well stocked compartment and brought out a blaster. "Take
this," he said to Savage. "I'll drop you at your hotel and then try to
see the High Commissioner. You had better stay in your rooms until you
hear from me."

Savage was breakfasting in his room the next morning when the
communicator buzzed.

"Loong here," it announced, when Savage answered. "Things have come to
a head. I couldn't get to see the High Commissioner, but he has already
had an interview with the Emperor. I can only guess what it was about,
but I'm told that it was pretty stormy.

"But that's the least of it. The Commissioner has just issued secret
orders for your arrest. Go to the roof of the hotel. One of my hilocars
is already on its way to pick you up."

"Thanks. I'm on my way," Savage replied, and disconnected. He buckled
on the blaster and with a needle gun in his hand he went to the door.
The hall outside was empty and he ran swiftly to the service stairs.

On the floor above he ran to the levitor bank and pressed the "up"
stud. He watched the indicator impatiently as the levitor shot upward
and stopped on the floor below. Then it resumed its upward climb and
Savage held the needle gun ready as the doors slid apart to reveal a
CID man with a blaster in his hand.

Savage fired and leaped into the car as the blaster clattered to the
floor. The CID man was still crumpling as Savage pressed the stud for
the top floor.

When the levitor doors again slid apart Savage jammed them with a
blaster and raced up the stairs to the roof, praying that the hilocar
would be waiting. It was there and it took off with savage acceleration
as soon as he was aboard. Blaster and heat gun fire burned the air as
they rose and then it faded out of range.

"Whew," Savage breathed, "that was close."

"We're not out of it yet," the pilot replied. "There's a CID hilocar on
our tail."

A glance behind confirmed the pilot's statement and Savage said:

"My hand blaster won't do any good against the stuff they carry. Can
you get away from them?"

"I'm using full power, but they're gaining. There's a high powered
heater mounted behind you. I'll bring it up."

       *       *       *       *       *

A section of the fuselage slid open and a long, turret-mounted heat
gun rose into view. At the same time the seat back slid down to permit
entry into the turret. Savage climbed in and settled himself over the
sights.

"All right," he said, "cut your speed."

At full aperture this weapon didn't require supreme accuracy. Savage
pressed the firing stud and the other hilocar was engulfed in flame and
then it exploded. Savage's pilot dived to ground level and after half
an hour of maneuvering between, over and sometimes almost through hills
and trees they were deep in the mountains south of the city.

They landed in a mountain clearing. Then the trees in front of them
slid apart and they rolled down into a ferro-concrete cavern; the
Terran stronghold repeated.

Larhana greeted him as he alighted.

"What are you doing here?" he asked involuntarily.

"I am wanted too," she said. "Hurry, Commodore Loong is waiting for us."

The cavern hummed with swift, orderly activity. Larhana led him quickly
through it, but Savage had time to note the fighting ships being
readied and the blasters and heat guns being uncrated and loaded.
Finally they entered a small room where Loong, alone, awaited them.

"Quite a place you have here," Savage said.

"We've been preparing for a long time," replied Loong, "and now we are
going to make use of it."

"How, Prince Kalnor?" asked Savage quietly. His hand was on the needle
gun in his pocket.

"The High Commissioner has.... What did you say?"

"Prince Kalnor, your Majesty."

"How did you know that?" Loong asked. He clutched at his blaster. But
Savage brought out the needle gun and he stopped the movement.

"It was evident from the beginning that you were not working with
either the High Commissioner or the Emperor, but at the same time
it was evident that you were highly placed in a third organization.
Then you yourself mentioned the Kalnor family and I went to the State
Library.

"With two powerful factions competing for the Empire, it struck me that
only the Kalnor name would attract enough adherents to form a third
party. It wasn't until a few moments ago that I realized that you were
the Kalnor in question; that you would be the leader and not a follower.

"Now that we each know who the other is, I'd like to know exactly what
you intend to do about Terra after we've put you on the throne of
Trygon."

"I meant what I said the other day," the Prince exclaimed. "Terra will
be free. And in time the friendly relationship of which I spoke can be
established."

Savage realized that he could use the Prince to bargain with the
Emperor, but once he had Kalnor would the Emperor stick to the terms of
whatever bargain he had made? No, it was ridiculous to think that he
would. He would have to trust the Prince. "That's all right with me,"
Savage said, and put away his gun. "I'd like to know what's happened,
though."

"An attempt was made on the Emperor's life, and at the same time, the
High Commissioner proclaimed himself Emperor. Something went wrong,
however, and the Emperor did not die. As a result we have what amounts
to war between the two factions, confined to the military and the city
of Czur. The average Trygonian citizen won't become involved."

"How about your men?" Savage asked.

"They are adapting to conditions and at the same time spreading a rumor
that a Kalnor will come. When I give the signal they will drop all
pretense and fight for the name of Kalnor. Now we must hurry to get
control of the _Agreet_. A ship is being readied to take us there."

"All right. Let's go," said Savage, the light of battle in his eyes.

"I'm coming too," announced Larhana and they looked at her in surprise.

"It'll be no place for a woman," Savage said. "There'll probably be a
battle."

Larhana's green eyes darkened and Loong said, "There's no use arguing
with her. If she's made up her mind to come nothing short of a blaster
will stop her."

"You're right," Larhana said and they went out together.

       *       *       *       *       *

Loong's ship proved to be one of the latest medium fighters, crammed
with firepower and short on passenger space. They found cramped space
against the control room bulkhead and blasted off.

Minutes later they were approaching the great Fleet Spaceport, on which
rested the tremendous _Agreet_. A minor battle was in progress below
them for control of the port, but it was impossible to tell one faction
from the other. Loong's radio operator worked his instrument with
swift efficiency and the gunners peered into their scanner plates and
fingered their controls.

After a suspense-filled eternity the radioman said "Okay" and their
ship dived toward the _Agreet_. A port opened in the huge hull and they
floated in.

They alighted quickly and a pneumatic car carried them swiftly forward
to the bridge.

There they were met by an officer whom Loong introduced as Captain Slan.

"Everything is ready, your Highness," Slan said, careful not to notice
the presence of Larhana. "The officers faithful to either the High
Commissioner or the Pretender have been confined. The bare minimum for
the operation of the ship remain."

"Very good," said Loong with formal dignity. "Commodore Choon, will you
kindly take command?"

"Yes, sir. Captain Slan, you will take off immediately and establish
an orbit at three diameters. All screens are to be thrown out as soon
as we are clear and any ship that attempts to interfere is to be
destroyed."

"Yes, sir," said Slan and he went to the main controls. The ship
vibrated strongly for a moment and then they felt it rise gathering
momentum as it went.

"We made it," said Larhana, taking Savage's arm.

"Yes," said Savage stiffly, "but we still have a lot to do."

He was very certain now that she had attracted all Trygonian
officialdom to the Club Galaxy so that information could be gathered
from liquor-loosened lips for Loong, but he didn't know how much
further their relationship extended.

The return of Slan recalled Savage to the problem at hand.

"Good news, your Highness," he announced. "Our men have captured the
Pretender and are proceeding according to plan."

"And the Commissioner," Loong asked. "Where is he?"

"He is directing the operations of his forces from his offices in the
Supreme Headquarters Building, your Highness. What are your orders?"

"He must be destroyed at any cost," Loong said grimly. "An assault
would be indicated."

"Screens have been set up to guard the building," Slan said. "The most
powerful blaster will not penetrate them."

"We must use the _Agreet's_ Atomics then...."

"You'd destroy half the city," Savage interrupted. "There's been too
much bloodshed already."

"What do you suggest, then?" asked Loong.

"Have you any men in the building?" Savage asked.

"We have not been able to contact any," Slan said.

"Well, perhaps this will work. We will make a concentrated attack,
using the _Agreet's_ armed scouts and your fighter. During the attack
I can take one of the scouts under the screen, land near the building,
and force my way in."

"That might succeed," agreed Loong. "But once inside you'd never find
the Commissioner. You don't know the building. I'll go with you."

"I couldn't permit that, your Highness," Slan objected. "Your life is
too valuable to risk."

"What ..." Loong flashed, but Savage interrupted.

"He's right," he said. "You'll have to remain on board the _Agreet_."

"I will go in your stead, your Highness," Slan said firmly.

"Very well," said Loong unhappily.

"I will make the arrangements," said Slan. "We will use number seven
scout."

He excused himself and left the group, while Loong turned to Savage.

"I am beginning to understand why we have not been able to completely
subdue your people. Tell me, what is your Terran name?"

Savage told him.

"I have studied one of the Terran languages a bit--English, I believe
it is called--and it seems that your name is also a word. What does it
mean?"

"Untamed," Savage said.

"Aha!" said Loong.

At this point Slan returned.

"We will be in position to launch the attack shortly," he said. "We
had best make ready. I beg your pardon, but the lady seems to have
disappeared."

"So she has," said Loong after glancing around. "Well, we can't look
for her now."

They took another car to their scout ship and exchanged their uniforms
for more efficient fighting suits; black coveralls, crash helmets,
respirator masks and battle packs.

They were each provided with a heat gun and a blaster, but Savage
strapped the little needle gun to his wrist over the coverall sleeve.

"For sniping," he explained.

Loong held out his hand.

"Good luck," he said, and Savage remembered the General.


                                   V

The attacking fleet, the medium fighter and twelve scouts, roared
in over the city and blaster fire came up to meet them. They passed
through the wall of flame with the loss of only one scout and then they
opened up with their own weapons. The only effect of their combined
fire was to make the invisible force screen protecting their target
flash and flare.

They made a second pass. Two more scouts went down and Savage decided
that they too crashed. He manipulated the controls and the scout
lurched sickeningly and went into a steep dive.

At the last possible moment Savage pulled out and, barely off the
streets, roared between the buildings toward Supreme Headquarters. He
slowed as they approached the building and rested one hand lightly on
the bank of blaster studs.

"Brace yourself, we're going in," he said and slammed down on
the studs. A chunk of wall in front of them disintegrated and he
decelerated savagely. They went through the gap at dead low speed, but
still they crashed through two inner walls before they finally stopped.
They were bruised and shaken, but otherwise unhurt.

"Here's where we get out," Savage announced and Larhana's voice came
from behind them.

"Wait for me," she cried and they whirled around.

From somewhere she had gotten a suit of coveralls that were almost the
right size, as well as a helmet and mask. Two blasters were belted to
her slim waist and the whole effect was one of efficient deadliness,
spoiled only by the loveliness that insisted on making itself known
through the coveralls.

"What are you doing here?" Savage finally got out.

"I wanted to help you," she said simply.

"What are we to do?" asked Slan. "We surely can't leave her here."

"She'll have to come with us. Let's go," Savage said, there was no time
for argument or recrimination.

He kicked open the hatch and jumped down to the rubble covered floor.
Flames were already crackling behind the ship as he helped Larhana
alight, and when Slan had joined them he blasted their way through the
wall into a corridor.

With Slan in the lead they ran to the levitor bank. They had just
reached it when a pair of doors slid open and black-uniformed men
poured out, only to be cut down bloodily by Savage's blaster. The
carnage lasted only a few moments and then they were in the levitor.

"Czako's offices are on the forty-fifth floor," Slan explained as he
pressed the stud. "They will be thick with his men, of course."

Savage nodded grimly, his weapons ready, and watched the moving
indicator. Then, as the forty-third floor clicked by and they were
bracing themselves for the rush, a muffled blast rocked the building.
The lights went out and they were hurled to the floor as the car
stopped abruptly. Then they began to fall.

For an agonizing moment they felt helpless, doomed. Then the safety
brakes went on and the car ground to a halt.

"What happened?" Larhana gasped.

"The fire must have gotten to the scout's fuel or blaster magazine and
it blew up," Savage said. "But we've got to get out of here."

Slan produced a hand torch while Savage tried to open the doors.

"They're jammed," he said after a moment's effort. "Stand back. I'll
use a blaster."

The car filled with heat and smoke and the stink of burning metal came
through their masks. Finally he had a man-sized opening and he stuck
his head out cautiously. A blaster bolt from down the hall gashed the
door above his head and he recoiled.

"Burn a hole through the back while I keep them busy," he ordered and
he felt reflected heat from behind him as he filled the hall outside
with flame.

A few minutes later he heard Slan whisper from close behind him,
"Everything is clear on the other side and Larhana is on guard. As soon
as I finish this we can get out of here."

Alternating his attention between the hall and Slan, Savage watched him
set a block charge booby-trap with practiced efficiency. Then he was
finished and they stepped over the trip-wire and out of the levitor.

       *       *       *       *       *

They ran across the room and as they went through the door a blaster
roared behind them. Slan screamed and fell, only his momentum carrying
him around the angle of the door jamb. Savage whirled to return the
fire and then the block charge erupted and was thrown against a desk.

Protected by the wall Larhana was already at Slan's side as Savage
picked himself up. Vainly she was trying to staunch the flow of blood
from the clean-cut stumps that were all that remained of Slan's legs.

Savage quickly took two pieces of Plastograft from his kit and with
them sealed the stumps as Slan ground out between clenched teeth,
"You've got to get Czako." He struggled to get up, but fell back into
Larhana's arms, sweat glistening on his face.

"We'll take care of you first," Savage said.

"Get Czako," Slan gasped. "Take the stairs.... Room five leads to
office.... Armored door, use block charge.... Three blocks.... Hurry,
hurry...."

His voice trailed off to nothingness and he died.

Larhana's green eyes were blazing as they cautiously traversed the
offices.

At the forty-fifth floor Savage tried the door. It opened and then the
frame splintered under the impact of a heavy needle gun. They dropped
to the floor, leaving the door ajar. He held his heat gun and blaster
together and quickly shoved them through the opening toward the unseen
gun and pressed the studs. They roared and a scream answered.

Still on the floor, he twisted his weapons around and bathed the hall
with flame in the other direction. Then he scrambled to his feet and
with her dancer's agility Larhana followed him. Behind the flame of his
weapons they ran down the scarred hall and found office five.

Savage took no chances; he used the blaster on the door and his heat
gun was on as they went in. The room's furnishings were reduced to
charred ruins, as were the three guards, but after the draperies and
papers were consumed there was nothing left to burn.

"Keep your eyes on the door while I get the charges ready," Savage
ordered.

He went to the armored door set into the opposite wall and carefully
taped on the block charges. Then he set and connected the igniter.

Returning to Larhana, he said, "We don't have much time now. Cover me
while I toss a couple of charges down the hall. As soon as they go off,
run across to that other office and get under cover."

Quickly he prepared two more charges, setting the igniters for contact.
He threw one and it had not yet exploded when he threw the second. The
roaring double blast shook the floor and ferro-concrete dust filled
the hall. Behind a sheet of flame they raced across the hall. Then,
sheltered behind the wall, they waited for the next blast.

Savage was ready to believe that something had gone wrong with the
igniter when the roaring thunder came. The rolling concussion lifted
them and then slammed them with cruel violence to the floor. They lay
dazed for a long moment before they were able to get up and return to
office five. This time there was no interference.

The charge had blown in the heavy door and crushed under it was a
twisted needle gun and its crew. Of the five other men in the room,
only one seemed capable of movement. He made a feeble effort to raise
his blaster and Savage cut him down.

They found High Commissioner Czako dazed and bleeding behind his huge
desk. Savage hauled him roughly to his feet and jabbed the blaster into
his middle.

"You're finished, Czako," he said. "Get on the radio and tell your men
to lay down their arms."

Czako nodded in bitter defeat.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was three Trygonian months later when His Highness, Emperor Kalnor
met Savage and Larhana at the great space-port. Above them loomed the
_Agreet_, ready to depart on its voyage through hyper-space to Terra.

"We'll be back someday," Larhana promised.

"Yes," agreed Savage. "I'm as much Trygonian now as Terran, but we want
to see Terra on the road to complete reconstruction first. A lot of
prejudices will have to be overcome, but in time it will be done."

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 64359 ***