Robert E Mills, page 10
"Doc says it's a concussion." Purpur noticed the grave look on his skipper's face. "The kid's in a deep coma."
He shook his head. "So we can just forget about communicating with Garthane."
Purpur's mewing reflected the sadness in his heart, for he loved his friend from Aquaea. Dann had to recover. He had to . . . He looked down at the prisoners
. . . or else there'd be two more men on the way to the halls of their ancestors.
Rian activated the lumi-beam he held in his hand and trained it on the prisoners, asking Purpur to yank them to their feet. The natives were humanoid all right, small to medium in height, dressed only in sandals, loincloth and headbands that supported three white, flaring plumes. They had round heads, almond eyes, and generous, hooked noses; their skins were dark as bronze, tanned by long exposure to the planet's sun.
The light on Rian's translator-belt flashed as he depressed its lingua-scanner button: "Speak up, boys,"
he said, addressing the prisoners. "Loud and clear, now. State your names and your business."
"Tenoxatli!" they babbled, pointing respectfully at Purpur, "Tenoxatli lata nexatawan, Kizat nal attu sena entutallati."
"Smoking bolt-holes !" the buccaneer exclaimed disgustedly, fiddling with the semantic-locator dial on his belt. "These bozos don't even speak a)anguage whose roots are listed in the galactic index. Must be a relatively new culture."
He pointed at the ground, lifting his arm in ever-widening circles to include the clearing and the rain forest that surrounded it. "Where are we?" Rian asked slowly, in the manner people frequently adopt when talking to foreigners in the irrational belief that de-creased speed will provide the key to decode their words. "What. . . is . . . the name. . . of. . . this. . .
place?"
The prisoners studied him for a moment, listening carefully to the tone of his words. A look of comprehen-sion flooded the face of one of them, and he answered.
"Azitlin, Nala tehu tehuatali Azitlin. "
Red Rian smiled as he was rewarded for his linguistic efforts. "Welcome to Azitlin," he told Purpur. "Okay, mates. Let's get back to the ship.
"Before you do, drop your weapons on the ground!"
A bass voice growled from the darkness in a language Rian and his crew understood.
The star-pirate turned around slowly as he dropped his zapper, and shone his lumi-beam in the direction of the voice.
"Tell the others to drop their weapons, red-beard-or I'll sizzle you in your own fat!" the voice growled again, as Rian' s lumi-beam glittered on the barrels of a dozen laser-rifles.
Ylang's obscene laughter filled the corridors of Kordor as Blorg emerged from the levitator and froze in his tracks, turned to stone by the sight of the hideous giant that charged at him, shrieking with bloodlust.
Coming to his senses an instant later, as the ground shook beneath his feet, Blorg whipped out his zapper, steadied it like a tripod with two more of his arms, and went into a crouch. Bzzz-z-z-zzzat! The weapon flared and its beam lanced out, striking the Mordling full in the chest. The monstrosity staggered back a few feet, beating frantically at the smoking scales on its pectorals.
Sunlight and soft breezes! Blorg cursed as he fumbled to adjust the zapper's setting. That shot would have blown five men away! He flicked the switch to high just as the beast began to charge again, the beams of its eyes glaring like satanic headlights.
Yeeee- yaaa-a-a-ooo-o-o-r-r-rrow! The horror screamed, lunging at the lord of the Y sss, the green poison of its rage dripping from the daggers in its jaws.
Haaa-a-a-ass . . . Blorg exhaled and steadied his hand before he touched the zapper's firing-button. The thing's shadow fell over him like a stormcloud, but still he waited, lining up its disgusting head in his gunsight.
Now! he thought, scorched by its searing breath. Now Bzzz-z-z-zzat! Phwooom! The Mordling ~topped sud-dently and straightened up, its arms flailing out and thwacking the stone ceiling. Its head was now a fireball, and the saliva it drooled turned to molten lava. Smoke
billowed out of its mouth in the visual equivalent of a scream. And then, with the sound of a wall falling, the Mordling crashed to the ground, its brains reduced to ashes.
Bravo, Blorg! The Dark Emperor's thoughts boomed in his head. The lord of the Ysss got to his feet and holstered his zapper with two shaking hands as the Devourer ordered the rest of the fiends back to their vaults. Haaa-aa-aas! Haaa-aa-ass! The Forbidden City sounded like a steam-room as the frazzled Y sss overlords sighed their collective relief. Blorg bathed in the vapors of their gratitude as he walked stiffiy in the direction of Ylang's lair.
I was merely amusing myself in your absence, my son, the Great Devourer told him with a chuckle that could have blackened a field of lilies. I have taken to little games as a source of distraction. The sight of the Mordling clones reminded me of the thousand years of my childhood.
Blorg shuddered involuntarily as he approached the doors to the lair. Ylang- Ylang' s sense of humor, like the rest of it, was unusual, to say the least.
Come inside, sweet Blorg. I have one more little surprise for you, my darling.
As the doors groaned open and the mind-raped herald roared out his name, Blorg tensed his muscles at the prospect of more of what the Dark Emperor considered fun-and-games. He loosened the zapper in its holster and shaded his eyes from the vile effulg~nce of his master as he entered, senses alert and prepared for anything.
Anything, that is, but what he saw next. There before him, in the center of the throne-room, stood a group of humanoids. He squinted as he peered through his one-way yisor, trying to make out their features in the gloom that came from Ylang' s energies being banked low.
Haaass! The reptiloid gasped as he recognized the figures who stood in the center of the group. He couldn't believe his eyes. Shaking his head and blinking rapidly, he looked again. . . and saw Nila, Dann Oryzon, Purpur, the crew of the Hazard and. . . none other than Red Rian!
Rian! he thought, paralyzed by astonishment as the burly, red-bearded skipper of the Hazard screamed his name in rage and charged across the floor at him. How is this poss . . . ?
Before Blorg could complete the thought Rian hit him with a flying tackle that brought him to the ground, his black body-armor clacking on the stone floor like the castanets of a demented gypsy.
Blorg's hands flexed into claws and descended on Rian's back as the lair shook with Ylang's evil laughter
...
Chapter7
Ylang's Creations
"Hey--I know you guys!" Red Rian exclaimed, as the
rising sun of Azitlin suffused the sky with broad bands of purple and violet. The Hazard stood surrounded by several hundred tall, broad-shouldered men and women in helmets and breastplates of barikrome and cloaks of synthi-fur. The men all wore long, untrimmed beards and the women's hair hung down to the small of their backs. The new arrivals were armed to the teeth and looked as if they meant business, what with all the zappers and laser-rifles in evidence, and the double-bladed axes of durallium that hung from their broad belts.
"You're Valsings-from Havanal," the skipper of the Hazard continued, nodding at the burly man who was obviously the leader of the armed band. "I had a few brushes with you people before the Dark Empire occupied your galaxy."
The man smiled back at Rian with a smile as cold and sharp as the axe that hung at his side. "Yes, I remember ," he said. "You're Rian, the Taylianpirate we drove out of the sector that contained our homeworld, V ormergoord."
"I prefer to think of it as a strategic retreat," Rian replied immediately. "After all, your ships outnumbered mine ten to one." The burly man's smile turned into a smirk. "Five or six to one, and I would've stuck around," the star-pirate added insolently.
"Careful, Red-beard," said the tall brunette who stood by the chiefs side. "Another lie such -as that could stick in your throat and clog your windpipe."
"Now, hold on, lady," the pirate retorted. "The starship hasn't been launched yet that can down the Hazard in a fair fight."
"You dare to say that," she countered, "after a single Dark Empire vessel blows you out of the void!"
The burly man raised his hand. "That's enough, leif." He turned back to Rian. "We 'caught the encounter on our long-range scanners from our ships here on the ground. I was amazed to see a lone imperial craft dare to engage an enemy. We were sure that more starships were on the way."
Rian made a sour face. "I guess you didn't pick up what really happened at that range. They've come up with some kind of force-field that's impossible to penetrate with lasers or torpedos."
"That is not good news," the man said, shaking his head.
" And that's not all. I thought I'd killed that old snake, Blorg, during the Battle of Aurea Solis back in Primula but then he . . ."
"Blorg!" the man exclaimed, interrupting Rian. He exchanged dark looks with the woman beside him. "If we had known that was Blorg out there, we would have come to your aid, no matter what."
"I couldn't touch him," Rian said, in a wistful voice.
"Couldn't even put a dent in his shielding." He studied the couple. "So Blorg's no friend of yours either, hah?"
"We owe him a blood-debt," the Valsing-chief replied grimly. "We led the defense of our galaxy, and when it fell. . . Blorg ordered our homeworld de-
stroyed."
Rian's eyes met the man's. "Was your homeworld irradiated?"
The Valsing took a deep breath before he replied.
"Exactly. Nothing lives on the surface of Vormer-goord. How do you know this?"
When he answered, Rian's eyes were as cold as deep space. "They did the same thing to Urgel-my homeworld."
"Then we have much in common." The man offered, Rian his hand.
"We share a blood-debt," the star-pirate replied, shaking the proffered hand.
"I am Ordlar," the man told Rian and his companions. "And this bold woman is Zeif, my bride." He broke out into a wide grin. "Zeif is a travel agent. She has sent many soldiers of the Dark Empire on a one-way trip to hell."
"Then Zeif is a lady worthy of the greatest respect,"
Rian replied. "My compliments. Do Valsing women ", always fight beside their men?"
"Always. And sometimes in front of them," Zeiftold him, winking broadly at Ordlar.
"You have much to tell us, Rian,"the Valsing-chief said. "Three of our ships escaped when Havanal fell, and we came to X-8-or Azitlin, as the aborigines call it. We pick off empire ships in the vicinity from time to time, but are out of touch with intergalactic events. We were sure that Primula had fallen."
"Have I got a surprise for you," Rian replied. He proceeded to tell the Valsings of the armada's defeat and the subsequent liberation of Taylos.
"Now tell us how you managed to escape from, Blorg," Ordlar said when the pirate had finished.
As the sun came up over the rain forest, Rian explained about the torpedo-interlock and his use of Ween's scrambler.
"This scrambler, could it get us onto Flaigon?" the Valsing asked.
Rian shot him a quizzical look. "Well, yeah," he replied. "But why d'you want to go to that black hole?"
"To kill the Dark Emperor," Ordlar replied matter-of-factly. "After all, Blorg is merely his agent. The blood-debt ultimately falls to him."
"Zel's bells!" the star-pirate exclaimed. "You've never met Ylang- Ylang, have you, Ordlar?" The Valsing shook his head. "Well, I have," Rian continued.
"First of all, Ylang's not a him, but an it. Second, it seems to be immortal. I'm not at all sure you can kill it."
"My people have a saying, Rian: Whatever.tives can die."
"Oh, wow!" Rian heard Ween exclaim behind him.
"Your chief tech-head will build scramblers for us in his fine workshop," Ordlar said, pointing to Ween.
"Then we will be able to touch down on Flaigon. Once there, we will storm Ylang's palace. . . and destroy it."
Rian sighed. "That's a one-way trip, my friend."
"We are prepared for that," Zeif told him. "Ever since our home was destroyed, we have been ready to
dwell in the halls of our ancestors."
Ordlar looked up at Purpur. "This gentleman is from Yahwoo, is he not?" Purpur nodded. "You are the one the native prisoners call Tenoxatli .'i'
"Just who is Tenoxatli? Rian asked.
"You shall find out in a moment," Zeiftold him,just as the sound of flutes and drums and rattles could be heard in the distance. Rian turned to look across the clearing. With a start, he realized that last night's dimly-seen heaps of stone were actually pyramids, laboriously hand-carved and assembled from massive blocks of stone. And at that moment, thousands of the natives of Azitlin-male and female, young and old-were gathering around the bases of the pyramids, speaking to each other in hushed whispers and glancing around nervously from time to time at the far end of the clearing where the Hazard had landed.
"What's going on over there?" the buccaneer asked.
"A little celebration in honor of our friend Tenoxatli ," Ordlar replied. "They saw and heard his rampage in the jungle last night, and are convinced he is, the incarnation of their jaguar-god. Now they are holding a great ceremony to propitiate him."
"Why are they dragging those people up the steps of that pyramid?" Rian asked. "Why are they struggling?"
"Because," came the reply, "the ceremony entails human sacrifice."
Ah-hah-hah-hah-hahahahaha-aaaaa! As Blorg's fingers wrapped around his arch-enemy's windpipe, Ylang- Ylang' s laughter sent tremors rolling through the floor of the lair. Enough, sweet Blorg! the Dark Emperor commanded, as Rian' s eyes began to roll up in his head. Blorg felt the pirate's body go limp in his arms.
Surprise! Surprise! Ylang's thought-voice boomed, the tones of its merriment darker and more awful than the sound of the war-trumpets of the Death Legion.
Cast it aside, my son. It is not your enemy, but merely a simulacrum of my own creation.
Blorg did as he was ordered and got to his feet, trembling allover from the shock induced by the tyrant's little games. He looked down at the form on the floor. It looks exactly like Red Rian, he thought. To the last detail. But I have destroyed Red Rian . . .
Then he looked OVer to the group of humanoids clustered in the center of the lair. Nila, Dann Oryzon. The felinoid, Purpur. The boy, Ween Leever. The Taylian pirates. Who else could they be? But it was impossible!
No, my darling, the emperor reassured him, they are not what they seem to be. They are merely replicas of their originals. . . duplicate copies from the great press of life.
But how. . . ?
The time they were here in Kordor, as I was about to devour them, I went deep inside their minds and bodies
... and took unto myself all their thoughts and feelings, the patterns of their minds and instincts -the very imprint of their genes. And, to pass the time while you were away, I used the workshops of my ancestors to
clone their likenesses.
They are indeed the same, Father Ylang -to all out-ward appearances, Blorg replied, after a long scrutiny of the group.
Inwardly as well, my son, the Devourer purred. The simulacra you see before you actually believe they are the originals.
Why has my master done this thing?
At first, merely as an amusement -a little jest to enliven your return. But then, when I entered your mind and discovered that Rian and the others were destroyed without either Garthane or the League of Free Worlds knowing about it, I conceived of an opportunity to make a bold move in the great galactic game.
I propose to send the clones back to Yahwoo. Then, when the League attempts to penetrate Havanal, my creations will do two little things to aid our forces. First, they will sabotage and r:eveal the League's battle-plans; I will put them in touch with your Taylian agents,
- Lord Blorg. Second, they will assassinate an oldfriend of ours. . . Garthane.
Since the clones, for all practical purposes, are Rian and his friends.. they will act exactly as the originals would have acted. The lair grew dark as' Ylang's energies flickered and banked low. The only difference is that I have programmed them to serve my purposes. I have even thought of a way to make their rescue in space seem plausible.
How will Ylang send them back to Yahwoo?
In the Hazard, my son.
But the Hazard no longer exists!
Its replica does. I have reconstituted itfrom the data gatheredfrom the probe I made when it touched-down here. My Mordling beauties have done a remarkable piece of work.
Blorg shivered as the black tendrils that promised the gift of Ylang's ecstasy coiled around his ankles. My master has worked miracles.
It is no more than one has a right to expect from a god, the Devourer replied modestly.
When the sun of Azitlin was at its zenith, the natives all gathered around the base of the central pyramid and stared up at the scene that was taking place by the stone altar on its levelled summit. Every time the chanting priests there would intone the word, Tenoxatli, the on-lookers below would turn their heads in the direction of the Hazard and repeat the name of the jaguar-god in awed whispers.
All morning, since the sun had first come up over the horizon, the Azitlini had gone from pyramid to pyramid (there were nine of them) in the course of the great ceremony. Dressed in white robes whose collars, sleeves and hems were embroidered in bright colors, and wearing ritual-masks of animals and birds, topped by' headdresses composed of sweeping white plumes, the priests ascended to the top of each pyramid and made offerings to their gods of food, flowers, incense and blood-cupfuls of it, poured into small basins that stood at the foot of each of the statues representing the
gods of Azitlin.
While the offerings were made and the priests intoned their chants, the natives below watched in silence. But as the procession moved to each succeeding pyramid, they broke into shouts and cries. The procession was led by a large group of masked dancers clad only in feathers, loincloths, and bracelets of small, jingling bells they wore on their wrists and ankles. Behind the dancers came a smaller number of musicians who played on drums and long, vertical flutes as well as the rattles made from gourds and the clacking noisemakers they shook in their hands.
