Jarl stripped the black uniform off the man he had killed with his mindbeaming. He felt in one of the man’s ears and then the other, locating the tiny radio receiver. He removed it and, after wiping it off with his fingers, inserted it in his own ear.
Immediately he was assaulted by a hard world of static, brutal commands, and important-sounding people interrupting other important-sounding people. One voice stood out from the rest—it was Klaus, telling someone he was returning to the base with the old man and the young woman.
Jarl’s mindvoice was a scream, ordering Kvasir and Janis to run, to escape from their escort.
Kvasir telepathy was calm and matter of fact. “We have to go with them. How will we learn about the Western Star if we escape?”
Jarl was almost in a panic. His hands were shaking and his heart was so loud that it seemed it might explode from his chest. He mindbeamed the old wizard, demanding, “Where are you?”
“We left the palace just a few minutes ago. We are walking toward the wharfs.”
“Kiska, where are you?” Jarl asked.
“I have just passed you. I am running toward the wharfs.” Despite the fact she was running, Kiska’s mindvoice was unexcited, just like her uncle’s.
Jarl was still squatting next to a half-naked corpse. He mindbeamed his wife, “Be careful. Please be very careful.”
Jarl stood and shook off his brand-new coat. Beside him, Laufey had just finished undressing another of the men Jarl had killed. Despite the disapproving stares of the E’landota guards—except for Kyle, who was a Ghost Raider and used to nudity—Jarl and Laufey took off their own clothes and then hurriedly dressed in the uniforms that had belonged to the two dead men. Jarl pocketed his weapons and appropriated a short assault-blaster he discovered on one of the other bodies. The two E’landota had been killed with some type of a projectile weapon, probably a silenced pistol, but try as he might, Jarl could not locate that weapon in the dark, corpse-cluttered street.
Lastly, Jarl explained to Laufey how to activate the radio transmitter sewn into her high collar. He placed a tiny receiver in her ear and watched as her eyes widened with amazement as the voices began babbling in her ear. Then, after covering their faces with the iron masks from Blackfish, Jarl and Laufey raced west, as quietly as possible, winding through the cobblestone streets of Tyr. They saw no one, but a short mental conversation with Kvasir turned the two of them north, upstream along the Nanoo River, where they chased down a small cluster of black-dressed soldiers.
It was Klaus Rooger and his escort. With him were Janis and Kvasir, as yet unharmed.
The tall commander turned and glared at the two approaching soldiers, firing three rapid questions, one right after the other. “Did you kill that damn Vanir Bookwright? Where is Lieutenant B’yard? And where are Potter and Bates?”
Jarl was shocked to learn that Klaus knew his men well enough to recognize the uniforms and helmets he and Laufey were wearing, especially since he did not know the names of the two soldiers they were impersonating. He pointed his blaster in a harmless direction, but one where—if need be—he could quickly sweep the weapon across the tight cluster of men.
He gave a sloppy CEP salute, providing Klaus with another reason to loudly berate him, and said, “Lieutenant B’yard and the Bookwright killed each other, sir. Bates and Potter died from the disease.” That was a safe gambit—Jarl thought—because even in the short period of time he had worn the radio receiver, four other soldiers had been found dead, killed by the sickness.
Klaus’ face turned beat red and he cursed, upset at the loss of three men. But then, with no warning, his expression turned to satisfaction and he nodded and smiled, obviously happy. He pivoted on one heel and began to lead the small procession north along the river bank. As Jarl followed, the commander spoke in a loud, arrogant voice “And that idiot of a Bookwright thought I would wait a week for him…” Jarl released a silent breath, aware that sweat covered his forehead, and glad that the CEP officer had not recognized his voice. It had been a fearful moment.
Kvasir turned to follow Klaus—but Janis, realizing some quick acting was in order, halted, a shocked expression on her face. She sputtered out a half-dozen words, two of which were “Jarl” and “dead.” Then the man behind her gave her brutal shove, knocking her against the old wizard, who caught her.
Klaus turned and, with a hateful voice, spoke, “You do that again, girl, and you die. We don’t need you. You understand?”
Janis nodded, her face now white with fear. The man behind her asked, “You want me to kill her now?” Jarl suddenly became cold and scared all over, and the muzzle of his blaster edged upward. He wondered where Kiska was.
“No,” Klaus purred. “She might have one small use.” He reached forward and without asking, withdrew Kvasir’s long sword from its scabbard. Then he turned and began marching north again.
Obediently, hanging onto each other’s arms, Kvasir and Janis followed. Within a few hundred meters, another half-dozen black-uniformed men joined their group, falling in behind. Janis was badly frightened, and even her mindvoice seemed to shake. “What did he mean by that? That I might have one use.”
Jarl could see Kvasir pull the young woman in toward him, holding her closer. But he knew the old man, while trying to protect her, would not tell her the truth, so he answered telepathically, “He means to torture you… to make Kvasir talk.”
He saw the young woman shudder in the pale moonlight, then she mindbeamed, “You were right… This time I should have stayed behind.”
Jarl’s own mindvoice was bitter, and full of pain. “That is the cost of being one of my friends…”
There was no additional conversation. They had passed all the houses, factories, and warehouses in town—all except one, an abandoned textile mill that had gone out of business after one of Janis’ scathing stories had forced them to pay their employees better money and work them fewer hours. At the main entrance, in the middle of the long building, Klaus led them through a lighted entryway, where a guard on each side saluted. Laufey and Jarl, in the middle of the group, were not detected.
The inside was lit by a bank of modern arc lights. To the left, the interior was piled high with old canvas sails and stacks of wooden boxes. To the other side were three short-range space shuttles—large, streamlined rectangular boxes resting on long, flat-bottom skids, with large windows along their front and top, and wide, gull-wing doors just forward of midships. There was no sign of the heavy weaving equipment, and Jarl assumed it had been consigned to the bottom of the Nanoo River, over which the dilapidated factory hung. More than a dozen black-coated men—wearing the uniforms, helmets, and face masks of the Consolidated Empire of Planets and carrying modern blaster weapons—walked back and forth, each tending to different chores.
An officer ran up to Klaus and skidded to an abrupt stop. The man saluted and shouted, “A shuttle has been prepared, sir!”
Klaus was already unbuttoning his Blackfish uniform. He waved a hand toward Kvasir and Janis, giving a brusque order, “Load them on!”
Jarl squeezed forward through the group of soldiers. He grabbed Janis by the arm and shoved her toward the first shuttle, the only one with open doors and men and lights inside. Laufey slid to Kvasir’s side. She began to push the old wizard, but Klaus held up a hand and told the officer to take Laufey and collect the three dead men they had left in Tyr.
“What do you want me to do with them, sir?” the officer asked.
Klaus was impatient. “Do what you did with the other dead. Weight the bodies and throw them into the river.”
“And Captain Njomis, sir?”
“Throw his body in the river too!” Klaus’ voice was hard, and his words abrupt, as if he was discarding an old boot, one which had caused him much pain and trouble.
Jarl pushed Janis into the shuttle. Another soldier did the same with Kvasir. They moved into the back of the small ship, sitting in several of the preformed plastic seats. There was a loud clang as Klaus tossed Kvasir’s sword into the pile of junk at the opposite end of the abandoned factory. Jarl mindbeamed Laufey, telling her to desert at her first chance.
Jarl could sense her anger and frustration at being left behind. “That will be difficult since I am their guide! But I will work something out, even though none of those idiots of the palace guard know enough mindbeaming for me to warn them.” She paused, just for an instant. “Don’t worry about me! Concern yourself with Kvasir and Janis. I am sorry you are now alone.”
Jarl mindbeamed, “What are you going to do about the soldiers with you?”
“Kill them. It is obvious they would do the same for us.”
Jarl could see her leaving, leading a squadron of men back into the city. “Well, wait until we are in the air…”
“In the what?”
“Gone… Wait until we are gone.” Then, “Kiska, wherever you are, you are too late.”
His wife’s mindvoice was very close, “Too late for what?”
“Too late for you to get on board.”
“I am already on board…”
“How…?”
“I entered the building through a back window about three minutes ago. I slid onto the shuttle while Old Hard Ass was ordering Kvasir and Janis to be put onto the ship. I am in the rear hold.”
“I didn’t see you. Did you board the shuttle through the starboard door?” That was the side away from the main entry to the factory.
Kiska’s mindvoice was exasperated. “I came in through the open port door. I am a witch remember.”
“Did you kill anyone?”
“There was a guard by the window. But he was already dead. I could find no wound. Of course I really didn’t look. He was covered with sweat.”
“He died from the disease. I have a radio receiver in my ear. Several of them have died from it. And that is only tonight. That means they’ve been here for several days, because it took me several days to catch the disease.”
“Are any of these people telepathic?” Kiska asked.
“No. That is a very un-Empire trait. They allow only their very top leaders to enjoy the ability.”
“Not Old Hard Ass?”
“No, Klaus Rooger is not nearly high enough on their ladder.” Jarl paused, then asked, “How many people in Tyr overheard our mind conversations tonight? Is this city totally deaf?”
“A lot of people think so. The residents of Tyr have no desire to be telepathic. They would much rather spend their time chasing the latest fashion and looking down their noses at everyone else.”
There were two pilots sitting at the front console, operating a score of buttons and switches. As Klaus, now in his black CEP uniform, jumped into the spacecraft, one of the pilots closed the gull-wing doors, then electronically locked them in place. Kvasir, using his best voice of authority, asked, “What is this machine? Where are you taking us?”
“You will see soon enough, old man,” Klaus ordered harshly. “Now be quiet!”
Jarl was in the very back of the shuttle craft, hoping no one ordered him to remove his Blackfish helmet and put on the more modern headgear of the CEP. He kept his blaster pointed toward the floor, but in a direction that he could sweep the small ship’s interior if need be. There was a door to his left, which he presumed led to the aft cargo hold, where his wife was hiding. There were two CEP soldiers on his right, and the nearest was an officer with no helmet, who had rivers of sweat running down his forehead.
The shuttle rose a few centimeters above the wooden floor of the empty factory. Then it rotated so that it faced east. Two men slid open a wide door in the east side of the building and the small ship surged forward, leaving the long building. It flashed out across the Nanoo River and sped across the dark, unpopulated coastal plain for several seconds. Then one of the pilots pulled back on the steering yoke and the shuttle’s nose rose, almost to the vertical, pressing Jarl back into his seat, and leaving the planet below. Behind them, in the aft hold, was a crash.
Klaus cursed loudly, degrading the person who had not secured their cargo. Jarl mindbeamed Kiska, asking her if she was all right.
The answer was a very angry yes.
“What’s wrong?” Jarl mindbeamed.
“I’m standing on my head! That’s what the hell is wrong!”
Then the artificial gravity came on and the ship felt more normal, even though it was still climbing vertically. Klaus motioned Janis and Kvasir to move to one of the side windows, and was amused at their expressions of awe and disbelief. Jarl followed, pretending to be their guard.
Below, at right angles to the craft, he could see the huge, bird-foot delta of the Greymist River growing smaller in the night. To the east were the dark waters of the Aegonian Ocean. The shuttle smoothly rotated, causing Janis to gasp, but—because of the artificial gravity—causing no discomfort. They could now see the two Vanir moons, one a bright-blue quarter face, the other a dark, bloody orb. Telepathically, Janis asked why their feet were held to the floor.
“It is called artificial gravity, or posi-grav,” Jarl answered. “It holds us to the floor and makes us a part of the ship.”
“Why didn’t they turn it on before we took off?”
“We were on the planet’s surface then. They needed all the gravity simulators to fight the gravity of the planet. When they use them in that manner, for lift-off, it is called negi-grav.”
Klaus pointed toward a small pinpoint of light above them. “Watch that!” he ordered, enjoying their astonished expressions. The spot of light became larger and larger, growing from one sparkle to two, then a cluster. It was the Eastern Star. Within a few seconds they could see the ship was made up of a group of spheres. They saw little else, for then the shuttle turned and raced west, high enough above the planet so that it would not have to fight the worst of the pull of Vanir’s gravity.
Kvasir, who had just telepathically explained to Janis that this was the Eastern Star, asked Klaus, “What is it?”
Klaus said nothing. Instead he made a motion to one of the pilots and the shuttle rolled upside down, so that they could see the planet’s surface through the windows in the ceiling. The posi-grav held them securely to the floor, but—still—Janis grabbed apprehensively at Kvasir. Although it was night, Jarl thought he could see the white snow of the Sabre Mountains and a smoothness to the south that might have been the Cimarron Sea. Then there was a whiff of white, and another. Soon clouds blocked their view. Only then did the black-haired commander answer the old wizard’s question. “That was the ship you call the Eastern Star.”
The shuttle received a short radio transmission, which was relayed to the tiny receiver in Jarl’s ear. The disease, the message said, was rampant on the Empire’s mother ship, the small vessel’s destination. After a short conversation, Klaus was ordered to proceed to another vessel, to what Jarl suspected was the Western Star, to show the primitives something of importance there.
Minutes passed. A comet flashed below them, disappearing into the clouds. A second star grew in the foreground, becoming another cluster of golden spheres. The object grew larger and became the Western Star, which was reflecting the light from the solar system’s one yellow star.
Jarl could see that there were three levels of immense, golden spheres. Each level contained three rows of three spheres each, and together they formed a giant, square cube of twenty-seven spheres, one of which was marked with huge black letters, “AEG2.” A long, black plank-like structure ran the length of the ship, passing through the middle three spheres and ending in two large, hollow cylinders that protruded well outside the cube of spheres—and which Jarl thought was the aft end of the ship.
Immediately forward of the cube of spheres were two other plank-structures—one painted black and the other bronze—that bisected the first plank-structure. It was as if the Western Star had been built on a gigantic cross, with a third beam intersecting the junction of the first two beams at right angles. Forward of the beam-connection, the longest beam—which began at the aft end of the ship at the hollow cylinders and passed through three of the middle spheres—crossed under a city-like collection of towers, barn-like enclosures, and smaller spheres, which were painted all sorts of colors. The bottom side of the beam-structure was a huge empty place, like a giant open mouth, where Jarl could see hanging cables, dangling like broken umbilical cords.
Beside the giant golden ship—and dwarfed by it—was one of the Empire’s black warships, a squat, hammer-head craft with short, stubby wings, to which two shuttle craft hung. And, in the far distance, across the vast reaches of the solar system, was a multicolored planet, a huge, gas giant circled by golden rings of dust.
Abruptly, as they crossed the terminator and in the instant before the automatic polarizers in the windows took effect, the dark interior of the shuttle craft became intensely bright. Then the pilot rotated his small ship so that the bottom of the vessel blocked out most of the bright light. The shuttle continued its fast flight and, after another minute had passed, the pilot slowed their craft, aiming for an airlock near the end of the Western Star’s black traverse beam.
The two ships grew closer and, after they were in the shadow of the Western Star, the shuttle pilot rolled his craft to the left, so that they could dock. On their starboard side, they could see a wall of golden spheres, each a half kilometer in diameter, and the giant letters, “AEG2.” To port were the countless buildings of the many colored city, overhanging the open mall below. A bronze tower dominated their view forward. Two other Empire shuttles were docked at nearby airlocks, and Jarl wondered—with pain—what damage the CEP had already done inside the great, golden ship.
Then their own tiny craft slid to a gentle stop beside the metal sleeve the CEP had constructed on the outside of the airlock so that their ship could fit against the mechanism. There was a slight thump as the two vessels touched and, after a score of seconds, a second thump, as the automatic airlock was attached to the shuttle. Jarl’s hands were sweating—he hoped he had not caught the disease—and he was scared someone would order him to remove his antiquated iron helmet, the only one inside the shuttle. There was a swoosh of air, Jarl’s ears popped, and the port gull-wing slid upward, opening the way to the Western Star.
Klaus waved Kvasir and Janis into the airlock. Four other guards followed, including Jarl. But when Klaus saw the non-regulation helmet, he ordered Jarl to remain in the shuttle. For the briefest of moments, Kvasir touched Klaus’ sleeve. The CEP commander whirled toward the old man, his expression one of indignation and anger. Then he stopped, not moving. For several seconds the two men stood so, hateful, black eyes staring into calm, gray eyes, and Jarl could feel the edge of a powerful mindvoice. Afterward, Klaus turned back to Jarl and said, in a voice that did not quite seem his, “You come too.” They entered the airlock.
Inside the shuttle, someone pressed a button and the gull-wing door was lowered behind them. For a few seconds they stood there—four guards, all carrying assault weapons and wearing modern helmets and face masks; Klaus, with no helmet, holding only a pistol-blaster and dressed in the uniform of an officer of the Empire; Kvasir, wearing the heavy robes of the old style of Vanir; Janis, wearing her evening dress, in the new style of Vanir; and Jarl, with his assault-blaster and his outlandish Blackfish helmet, pretending to be fifth guard. The feeling of telepathy continued and Jarl, unwilling to chance breaking the old wizard’s concentration, did not ask Kvasir what he was doing. Then a heavy door opened on the side of the airlock away from the shuttle and Klaus motioned them into the Western Star.
They entered a large waiting room, which had several blank computer screens and scores of old, dusty plastic chairs. A black-uniformed CEP trooper was standing to one side. He saluted and answered a question Jarl did not hear. Klaus turned and walked through an open doorway, past a transparent door—the entire area was surrounded by walls of clear plastic acid-etched with murals of beautiful outdoor scenery—and into the adjacent corridor. He led them down a wide, windowed passageway, beside the tracks of the two monorails. Two hundred meters later, they ascended a short ramp and the entire nature of the passageway changed. Here too, Jarl’s feeling of telepathy stopped.
The two monorails, instead of climbing, disappeared into tunnels on each side of their passageway. The corridor widened and became taller. There were two rows of trees, each in its own square box of earth, each reaching five meters above the floor, and each long dead, a ghastly reminder of a planet far away. The ceiling and walls of the corridor were constructed of a transparent material and the small group of people had an unobstructed view of the golden spheres on their right, the many buildings of the city on their left, and the tall, bronze tower, directly in front of them.
It took many minutes to walk to the end of the tree-lined corridor, where they intersected an identical passageway, one that led both forward to the city and aft through the giant spheres. Above their heads, the tall tower now seemed like a small skyscraper, rising hundreds of meters above their heads. Through a wide opening in its base, their tree-lined corridor continued, toward the opposite side of the ship.
The junction was an open area, with a higher—but still transparent—ceiling, taller trees, and tables, chairs, and benches. Twice, the radio in Jarl’s ear squawked as someone requested Klaus Rooger. Now, the CEP commander motioned Janis and Kvasir toward one of the round tables. They sat down, waiting for his next order. Abruptly, Klaus spun on one foot, as if remembering something. His face turned red and he bellowed at Jarl, “I thought I told you to get rid of that ridiculous helmet!”
Jarl nudged the muzzle of his weapon a little higher. “Now, sir?”
“Now! Go and get a regulation helmet, damn it!”
Jarl turned and began walking away, back toward the shuttle. In front of him, for a moment, was a wall of mindbeaming. Then it was gone. Behind him, he heard Klaus order two soldiers to watch Kvasir and Janis while he attended to other business. With the loud march of three sets of feet, the angry commander was gone.
* * * * * * * * *