Robert E Mills, page 5
Academic honors. The face of a smiling young man, Valennia's sweetheart. . .
Then a shriek rang out in her mind, as Dann saw the chillingly-familiar sight of the black-uniformed invaders. He saw the young man die, lasered-down by the empire's soldiers.
Valennia began to sob quietly. Altektu and D-Anacom glanced at each other.
What happened then, Valennia? Dann asked, caressing her mind as he coaxed her to continue.
Horrible. It's horrible, her mental-voice replied, quavering with the onset of panic.
Dann radiated his inner tranquility at her. It's best to get it out. Then Al and D-Ana -can help you get rid of your pain. I'll tell them, and they'll be able to help you. I swear it.
Gradually, the painful thoughts formed themselves into blurred and jagged images, as Dann saw the torture and execution of her parents through Valennia's own eyes. Then a towering Y sss appeared in her thoughts; he felt the chill recollection of its cold, probing mind, and the strings of its serpentine threats and mental tortures.
Tears flooded Valennia's eyes and ran down her cheeks in rivulets. Her sobs grew louder; her body started to heave.
Altektu took D-Anacom's hand. "That's the first time she's been able to shed tears," he whispered.
Dann saw the Y sss turn away with a wave of its hand.
Suddenly, he felt a tug and heard the sound of fabric tearing. Then, as Valennia must have turned, so did her memories. Dann saw a pack of leering, humanoid soldiers closing in, their hands flexed into claws, the reek of their sweat strong and acrid in the air. One face came closer than the others, and Dann felt Valennia's body heave as she recalled the way she spat into it with all the force she could muster. The face went out-of-focus, and its lips closed over hers brutally, bringing the salt taste of blood to Dann' s mind. Hands tore at her body, ripping away her clothing. The weight of the body behind the cruel mouth took Valennia down to the floor. Hands grasped her limbs roughly, and wrenched them apart.
And then. . .
Valennia screamed like a wounded animal, and collapsed in Dann's arms. The two androids came up, and helped him carry her over to the bed across the room.
When they had put her down, Dann told his friends all he had seen and felt in her mind. "It was horrible," he said.
Altektu shook his head. "No wonder she would not speak."
"Now we know what to do for her," D-Ana said.
They both thanked him.
"I tried to comfort her as best I could," Dann told them. "She's suffered an awful lot."
Valennia's eyelids began to flutter. They all leaned over the bed as she regained consciousness. At first she did not recognize them, but then her features softened as she realized where she was. Dann stared into the dark pools of her eyes; they seemed to sparkle with a softer light than before. She reached out, took his hand,
and spoke the first words she had uttered in many long months:
"Thank you ... Dann Oryzon," she said, squeezing his hand.
Dann was so moved by this he could hardly speak.
"Be well, Valennia," he whispered. "I have to leave for Aurea Solis tonight, so I'U say goodbye now.
Trust your best instincts."
"May we meet again," she whispered.
Dann smiled at her.
What you see before you, my lord Blorg, are the tools of the Mordlings, the mightiest race ever to walk beneath any sun.
Mighty Ylang honors its servant with the sight of the hidden workshops of its ancestors.
It is time again that the science of the Mordlings be enlisted in the service of conquest and comination, the end to which it was ordained. Ylang replied, its thoughts guiding Blorg's steps.
The reptiloid shook his head in wonder as he surveyed the great vaulted workshops of the titanic breed that had ruled the Morde galaxy ages ago. The strange, intricate machines were built to be manned by giants, and the reptiloid realized that creatures of his size could never hope to operate them. But my lord. he thought, baffled by this problem, no creatures exist who possess the size and competence to run these wondrous machines.
Then we shall have to create them. purred Ylang, thundering in its distant lair.
All things are possiblefor the Master of the Universe.
Blorg replied to the tyrant. Will mighty Ylang father a race of giants. and endow them with the requisite intelligence?
Ylang will do more than that. The answer to his question came couched in the chilling waves of the Dark Emperor's obscene metal-laughter. Ylang will embody a paradox, and father its fathers.
Haaass! Blorg never understood the emperor when it spoke like that. Please enlighten your Jervant, great Ylang.
Again Blorg's mind was buffeted by the awful laughter of the Devourer. Can my sweet Blorg not guess?
The lord of the Y sss thought for a moment. I cannot comprehend this riddle, my father. He smelt the sour reek ofYlang's disappointment.
It is unfortunate, it sighed, that my lord Blorg is proficient only at those games which entail suffering and death. By the statement ,father my fathers, I menat that I would alone the likeness of my ancestors, the Mordlings.
How will Ylang do that?
I shall take the genetic imprints ofMordlings, which I have within my memory-banks, and impose them on certain hospitable cell-cultures. . . thus recreating, in effect, my long-dead race. And then what will happen, my lord and master? Then, 0 Blorg, you shall see wonders.
When the Hazard had entered hyperspace, on its way to the golden planet, Red Rian left the control-center in the company of Garthane and went to Ween Leever's workshop. The boy-genius was celebrating his birthday by hosting a party for all his-shipmates. Drinks were being served by the barrel-shaped roller-robot, and the party was already going at full-blast when the two men arrived. Garthane blessed Ween, and wished him a happy birthday. Rian winked, jabbed Ween with an elbow and said, "One step closer to the grave, eb, kiddo?" Ween rolled his eyes in the direction of the ship's upper-deck and groaned. It was his belief that everyone in this life had a burden of some kind to bear
. . . and Rian was surely his. He was so upset by the star-pirate's gallows-humor that he snatched a drink from the passing robot's tray.
O- V -1 immediately turned and reproached his master. "This is a departure from custom, Mr. Ween," it said, static filling in for emotional coloration on its talkie-track. "One's birthday is not a sufficient excuse for the surrender of virtue. And, as I'm sure you also know. . . "
Rian snorted into laughter as the garrulous robot droned on.
"Mind your own business, Ovie," Ween snapped, blushing to the roots of his frizzy, blond hair. "You can just shut you-no, wait a minute, I've got a better idea.
Why don't you talk to Captain Rian a while? He's obviously very interested in what you're saying."
Ween grinned maliciously at his skipper and arch-tormentor.
"Captain Rian," the robot said, making the conversational transition without missing a beat, "you're a man of vast experience. Do you think it right that a person, one who never touches a drop to drink, mind you. . . "
"Oh, stellar damnation," the skipper of the Hazard moaned. He swigged down his drink, set it down, and hastily grabbed two more from the robot tray. This gabby bucket of bolts could talk the visor off a Y sss, he thought, glaring at Ween Leever, who bowed to him before he left to join a crowd of well-wishers. As the robot blabbered on, Rian gave it a sickly smile and looked around for the nearest escape-hatch. Before he walked away, Garthane indulged in the slight indiscre-tion of reading the pirate's next thoughts, which were as follows:
Now I know what hell is: being in a room without doors, tied to a chair ,forced to listen to this blithering mechanoidfor all eternity.
Finally, at the end of his tether after several long minutes of courteous attention and frantic scanning, Rian distracted the robot by pointing out.a potential victim, and made his escape, scurrrying over to Ween Leever's side. Frowning like a storm on a summer horizon, the pirate waited for Ween, who was just taking something out of his personal locker , to turn around.
"You sneaky little turd." Rian glared as the tech-head turned his way. "You thumb-headed little twink. I
ought to part your hair with a laser-beam for that."
"Now, skipper," Ween replied, shutting the locker behind him, "you know how fond Ovie is of you. Besides, I told him how you made it up with Al and D-Ana, and now he hopes you might think of promoting him."
"I'll promote him," Red Rian snarled. "Right up the nearest torpedo tube! "Say, what's that?" The pirate pointed to the framed holo-image Ween held in his hands. Ween held it up for Rian to see. There, in three dimensions and the colors of life, stood a man (no longer young) with flaring white hair, bulbous nose, and an enormous belly that was supported by two spindly legs.
The figure struck a jaunty pose and wore "the tights and doublet of Ween's homeworld, Greeb. Rian thought the man was the funniest-looking humanoid he'd ever set eyes on.
"He looks like a planet on toothpicks," the pirate said,just before he was shaken by a wave of un con trollable laughter. "Who," he wheezed, once he was able to stop laughing, "is that silly man?"
Ween glared at him sourly. "For your information, Rian, that happens to be my beloved uncle." By this time, Nila, Dann, Purpur, Garthane and several of the Taylians had gathered around them, drawn by the magnet of the redbeard' s merriment.
"Your. . . uncle?" Rian repeated, still gasping for breath. "That man is your. . . uncle?" He asked again; backing away as his chest began to heave.
"Yes," Ween snapped. "What of it?"
"Yaa-haahaahaahaa-aaa-aaa r' was Rian's only reply. Screaming with laughter, the star-pirate lurched out of the workshop. His demented cackling startled the skeleton-crew on duty above-decks, and awakened their relief, who were sleeping aft.
The others all took a good look at the holo-image. . .
and did their best to keep from laughing. All except Garthane. The High Master stared at the image for several seconds; then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he stood immobile before Ween and his companions, scarcely breathing.
"What made you take out that holo-image?" Garthane asked, when he came out of his brief trance.
Ween looked down at the thing, and then back up at Garthane. "I don't know," he said, scratching his head.
"I just got an urge to take it out."
Garthane studied him. "You obviously have great extrasensory powers, Ween. Because Ijust received a communication from the Fellowship. . . and it told me that your uncle was on his way to Aurea Solis."
"Well," exclaimed the side-eyed Ween, "how do you like that for a birthday present?"
When the Hazard touched-down on Aurea Solis, Garthane went directly to Libera's great hall, along with the rest of the Hazard's crew and passengers, and coordinated the Fellowship's strategies with those of the League of Free Worlds. Since the defeat of the.
star-armada, Garthane's plans were unanimously accepted as a rule, and that night was no exception.
"To sum up, ladies and gentlemen of the League,"
the High Master said, scanning the assembly with a serene stare, "I shall repeat the essentials of the joint-strategy we have agreed upon.
"One: Even though Primula has been saved and the occupied worlds liberated, this is only a temporary condition. Ylang's forces will return, one day. I'm sure you're all aware of this. Therefore, the Primula galaxy, one of the richest and most prosperous star-seas in the known universe, must continue to devote all its available resources to the preparation for the coming struggle.
Last time, we rose to the great challenge in a few scant months; to prepare ourselves for the next encounter, we have the luxury of time-a year, perhaps two.
Ylang's forces are deployed over the length and breadth of its vast empire, and the Dark Emperor will not risk intergalactic rebellion by massing his starfleets and armies to confront us at present."
He gave the audience a sad smile. "It is indeed a pity to expend the resources of this galaxy in war-production, but that is what we must do. And if we are fortunate enough to ransom our future again, better days will come.
"Two: The Fellowship's recruitin.g .goes well, better than I had hoped." He leaned forward, raised an eyebrow, and nodded his head slowly at the assembly.
"The souls of my fellow-Primulans are not so flabby as I had thought." A wave of laughter rolled in from the audience. "The Era of the Great Peace, long may it be remembered, has kept you all well and strong," he continued. "You have supplied many worthy initiates to the guardian order of your home galaxy. With the help of the Infinite, its spiritual strength and collective powers of mind will be hugely increased the next time we engage in a life-and-death struggle with Ylang-Ylang."
The audience cheered and applauded loudly.
"Three: We are proceeding immediately to outline a strategy whereby we may commence the liberation of our nearest neighbors in the Taylos galaxy. I would remind you that we owe much to the Taylians, as represented by Captain Rian and his admirable crew."
The audience cheered and applauded again, Red Rian and the crew of the Hazard the loudest of all.
"Four: After proceeding with the implementation of the above-mentioned projects, the combined forces of the League and the Fellowship will also consider it their duty to engage and crush any enemy vessels or starfleets of reasonable size that they might happen to encounter, and to spread the message of resistance and rebellion as far as it is in their power to do so."
All the people in the great hall got to their feet and cheered wildly for several minutes. When the uproar had finally subsided, Garthane stretched out his arms and blessed the assembly. "Infinity is at the heart of all things," he said. "All things are one."
A hush fell over the crowd as Garthane left the speaker's dais. Red Rian, sitting with Nila and Dann in the midst of his crew, leaned over to nudge Ween and
whisper out of the side of his mouth. "This is as good a reason as a man can ever find to tie one on. If you so much as open your mouth about how I've been drinking when I stagger back to quarters tonight, I'm gonna have you welded into that blasted locker of yours, where you'll spend the rest of eternity with that holo-image of your funny-looking uncle." Before Ween could open his mouth to reply, the buccaneer stood up and left.
Dann heard Ween sigh. As he turned to look at him, the boy-genius spoke in a low voice. "Y'know something?" he asked rhetorically. "My uncle is kinda funny-looking." Dann had to smile as Ween added,
"But don't you dare tell Rian I said so."
After the celebration had ended, Rian, somewhat drunk and inclining to the sentimental, staggered over to the spaceport, intending to gaze at the good ship Hazard in the moonlight. "There's m'baby," he said, when he saw the bright-plated craft gleaming in the distance, and lurched past the smiling guards at the main gate. But Red Rian never reached the Hazard.
Half-way out to his ship, he stopped to gawk at the strangest sight ever seen in Libera, capital city of Aurea Solis: an enormous starship-an empire cruiser, in fact-escorted by four League destroyers, was in the act of touching down on the free soil of the center of galactic resistance.
"What in the name of the Red Dwarf is that?" Rian soliloquized, as he stumbled in the direction of the great black vessel.
There was an extraordinarily heavy guard at the launch-pad, but the security officer waved the hero of Primula through without a second thought. Blinking his eyes, shaking his head and muttering to himselfindisbe-lief, the star-pirate watched as the ground-crew rolled the flexiladder up to the side of the cruiser. He was already amazed, but his astonishment was multiplied by its square root when the ship's door swung open. There before him, posing flamboyantly in the hatchway, decked-out in scarlet cape, pointed shoes, forest-green doublet and tights, was the ridiculous man in the holo-image, that bulbous personage with legs like toothpicks
. . . Ween Leever's uncle! ,
The chief security-officer saluted Rian as the strangej man waddled down the flexiladder. "I may be drunk,"
Rian muttered to himself, "but I'm not that drunk." He took a deep breath, walked up to the foot of the tlexiladder, and stood face to face with the stranger.
"Peace and brotherhood to the brave souls of the august and multiplex Primula galaxy, from their brothers and sisters in the great star-fields of Taylos," the man said. He spoke in a voice that was located somewhere between a drawl and a whine. Taking off his tall, pointed hat, the man bowed with great difficulty, and puffed like a compressor when he straightened up. His gimlet eyes twinkled as he stood there beaming at the crowd and drumming with his fingers on the wide brim of his hat.
Red Rian wasthe first to speak. "I don' believe this,"
he said, leaning over and poking his sausage of an index finger into the protruding belly of the visitor.
"Unhand me, sir!" the stranger yowled at Rian. "I warn you, I have killed men twice as good as yourself for half the provocation." As his eyes glittered with annoyance, his hose began to twitch with curiosity.
"What is this strange thing 1 smell upon the red-bearded gentleman's breath? Why, it's the unforgettable odor of spiritous liquor! How strange; how remarkable. Who knows, sir. . . if you were to offer me a little nip, I might even be persuaded to spare your life."
Rian's eyes were locked-in on the huge mass of the man's red, swollen and vein-tracked nose. When he was finally able to look away from that awesome organ, he asked, "You're Ween's uncle, aren't you?"
"Bull'seye, m'boy!" the stranger replied." Vax Waxnax Leever, beloved uncle of Ween Nerdeen Leever, at your service."
As soon as the man pronounced his name, a name as unusual as his appearance, Rian broke out into howling laughter. "Ween who?" he asked, gritting his teeth and clutching his sides.
"Ween Nerdeen," the stranger replied, squinting suspiciously at the buccaneer. And when Rian exploded with the start of another chain-reaction of guffaws he straightened up, frowned, and said, "You're drunk, sir."
"That's right, sir. I am drunk," Rian replied, when he'd recovered from the seizure.
