Mission Earth Volume 1: The Invaders Plan

  The computer thought it over. And then, amazingly, it gave it!

  LOMBAR HISST.

  There was his name, designation and identoplate facsimile! Imagine the great Lombar Hisst leaving his name in the machine!

  Hastily, I punched “Deliver Copy.” And the paper promptly rolled out. It was a certified copy and it said,

  ALL, CULTURAL, ETHNOLOGICAL, POLITICAL AND RELATED MATERIAL REGARDING BLITO-P3, WAS ORDERED PERPETUALLY AND ADDITIVELY DELETED FROM THE DATA BANKS ON BELOW DATE NOW TWENTY-FIVE YEARS PAST, BY LOMBAR HISST, CHIEF EXECUTIVE OF THE COORDINATED INFORMATION APPARATUS, EXTERIOR DIVISION, VOLTARIAN CONFEDERATION. SAID IDENTOPLATE FACSIMILE HEREBY AFFIXED BELOW.

  I finally had something that would prove to Heller that I did work and was around. I folded the copy up and put it in my pocket.

  I was in the act of shutting off the machine when I heard voices coming from a side office.

  “But I don’t want to go!” It was Too-Too’s voice.

  “You poor thing, I know how you feel.” It was Bawtch’s voice. “But that brute is quite capable of carrying out the most insane actions.” I couldn’t imagine who he was referring to.

  There was the sound of blubbering.

  “Now hold still.” It was Bawtch again. “Blow your nose into this handkerchief. You’re getting your face powder all smeared and gummed up.” The sound of blowing.

  “Here,” came Bawtch’s voice, “is a packet of trash information. The same material will go to Hisst by regular routing. But you take this packet—here, I’ll put it in this secrecy-case—straight to Lord Endow’s office. Don’t show it to the receptionist or secretary. Insist that you present it to Lord Endow himself, in private. They will search you for weapons—don’t flinch—and then pass you in. Lord Endow will open the secrecy-case. He will see at once that it is trash and he will ask you why. And you will say you saw him riding in the last parade and were stricken with love.”

  Blubbering. More blowing. Finally Too-Too said, “But I hear he is too big!”

  “Yes, I know, you poor thing. Here is some grease. Now run along before that unspeakable (bleepard) thinks up something even worse!”

  I was frankly shocked. Bawtch could get imprisoned for referring to a Lord as an “unspeakable (bleepard).” But there was a good side to this. Bawtch was pushing the project right along. I got up. I was even thinking of telling him I was glad he had had a change of heart when I heard a violent howl of cursing.

  Honestly, it was worse than a spacer pirate! And it finished with “. . . will call Internal Investigations to find out what happened to this jolt bar!”

  Ulp. I had forgotten to shut it. I wondered if this was the time to use the escape route. But I was fortified by the hot jolt and the crust and I braved it out. I walked past the open bar. “How about a canister of jolt?” I said.

  He just stood there, glaring at me. I walked on out. I think he suspected.

  I woke up my driver again and directed him to fly to the Apparatus hangar. I was on my way, without knowing it, to keep a very grim appointment with the wood Gods of awful fates.

  Time had run out on me. Completely.

  PART EIGHT

  Chapter 1

  At the hangar, everything was in a bustle.

  We had arrived just as the contractors were coming on the job for the day and there were work crews, work crews, work crews. They were in the differently colored cover suit uniforms of their companies and as they scrambled and rushed about they made a scene of spattered hues and industry, quite foreign to an Apparatus hangar.

  I did not see Heller. The day half platoon was on duty, so Krak had gone.

  After I got bumped and jostled a few ways and just after a rushing dolly with a load almost knocked me flat, I withdrew over to the side. I found a pile of old Apparatus debris and sat down, sort of fortified against this rush and clamor. It was absolutely exhausting to watch.

  There was a contractor crew inside the main engine room, apparently fastening the spare time-converter in place and their foreman kept popping out, swearing at the lack of room for it in there.

  Heller showed up. He had apparently been on the communications switchboard in the office. He looked very calm and efficient. He had his red racing cap on the back of his head and was stuffing a list in his pocket. I was about to go over to him to give him the deletion notice when he spotted the agitated foreman and trotted over to him.

  “It wasn’t meant to be carried in there!” the foreman wailed. “There’s no place else on the ship for that big a spare but it sure won’t go in there.”

  “I think if we move the booster panel about two feet,” said Heller, “we can squeeze it in. Get those Will-be Was specialists over there to follow us. Shifting a booster panel can be tricky, but we can do it.”

  “Tricky!” said the foreman. “You get one wire wrong and it ain’t tricky. It’s bang! Oh, well, it’s your neck, Officer Heller.” And he rushed off to get the Will-be Was foreman.

  It depressed me. Not content with having dangerous engines, we now were going to unstabilize one of the panels! I slumped down.

  The engine contractor crews converged on the main drive room and they banged and cursed and showered sparks in there. And after an hour or so there was a concerted cheer. Heller came out with the two foremen and they were all laughing. Whatever they had done had been a success.

  Another crew was given a signal and they clambered up on the hull and began to replace the plates that had been removed to gain access to the main drive room. They looked like tiny dolls up there. Tug One was not big but a forty-foot fall can make a bad squash when one hits. I looked away. I don’t like heights.

  It looked awfully busy. From cover suit colors there must be eighteen contractor crews working on that ship. But Heller wasn’t fooling me. He was just stalling. I knew you could overhaul a spaceship on and on and on. You could even undo today what was done yesterday! Heller, I decided, had no slightest intention of ever leaving on the mission. Why should he? He had beautiful quarters even though the area was under refit. He had Krak. Why should he go anywhere?

  And then I saw something that unsettled me. A Fleet lorry came roaring up outside the hangar and about six Fleet spacers piled out. They had a near fight with the hangar guards but Heller appeared and calmed it down.

  The spacers picked up the box. It was long and quite heavy. With a loose-kneed trot they carried it through the tug’s air lock and into the ship. After a while they came out. One of the hangar Apparatus foremen jeered at them and the lead spacer detoured about two feet and knocked the foreman flat!

  Amidst a bunch of shouts of “drunks!” and “bluejackets!”—which is what the Apparatus calls the Fleet, a bluejacket being a kind of insect—there was a near second riot.

  Heller got it untangled and the spacers went off and Heller picked up the Apparatus foreman who was saying, “I didn’t mean you, Officer Heller,” and things calmed down again.

  But I was very interested in that box! I sidled very inconspicuously into the tug. The flight deck was a bit torn up—they seemed to be installing gravity simulator coils in the walls—and a lot of control wires were unhooked. But I had no interest in that.

  The floorplates of the passageway were unlocked and up, displaying the shallow underhold below and on the bottomside of the main drives. I quickly lowered myself down.

  There were six such boxes. They had letters on them, Box A, Box B and so on. They were heavily fastened. And I could not lift a corner of one by myself. What the Devils did he have here? What menace did this pose to a mission that must fail?

  I couldn’t make it out. Afraid to be caught down there, I scrambled back up.

  I ran straight into Heller! He was kneeling there on the passageway crossbars, looking at me curiously. I thought, well, here’s where I blew it.

  Heller reached down and gave me a hand and in a moment I was standing again in the passageway, teetering because all there was to stand on was the cross-supports of the
missing plates. I waited for his blast.

  Heller looked at me searchingly. It didn’t make it any easier for me that he seemed to be having no trouble standing on the thin threads of nothing whereas I was sure I’d slip and fall back into the hold and break a leg.

  “Soltan,” he said in a soft voice, “I’ve got the feeling you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

  Avoiding you, I thought. You unobservant idiot! I haven’t even been here for three weeks!

  Heller looked a little sad. “When you ran off that night, I must have said or done something that offended you. If so, I’m very sorry for it.”

  He saw I was having trouble standing on the thin braces and he guided me over to more solid footing. “Soltan, whether we like it or not, we’re pitched in together on this mission. I personally want to make a go of it.”

  That really flustered me. That was the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do! I did not like the way this conversation was trending. He must not suspect how this mission would be sabotaged.

  “Oh, I do, too,” I lied hastily. I snatched the flap off my pocket and got out the delete notice the machine had given me. “I was up before dawn to carry out your request. This proves it.” I gave him the slip.

  He looked at it curiously. He turned it over and looked on the back. Then he shrugged and put it in his pocket.

  “I’m sure you’re trying to help all you can. And thank you for doing things like this.” He seemed to think it over. Then he said, “Soltan, remember the old Academy saying ‘All drive and no drink makes disasters’? I think maybe you have been working too hard.”

  A lot he knew. I hadn’t been doing anything! Not to help. Never, never, never!

  He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! You owe me a dinner!” I must have looked blank. “You remember! I was the first officer you met the day you were promoted. Did you meet any other officers that day?”

  I shook my head, more to clear the sudden shock out of it than to say no.

  “Capital!” said Heller. “So I’m calling in the debt. Right now and tonight!” He laughed cheerfully and slapped me on the shoulder.

  I knew what was coming next. Such a dinner includes the girls of the other officers and one’s own girl if there are any around.

  “So you,” he said, “just have your airbus out there an hour after dark and we’ll all fly away to some fine nightclub and you’ll buy us a dinner! That will make peace and cheer you up!”

  Hastily I said, “Wait. I can’t go in uniform.” I looked down at myself. Three weeks in the woods and a smelly uniform to begin with and I was a real wreck.

  “Oh, think nothing of it!” said Heller. “Right at sunset, you come in here,” and he pointed to an officer’s cubicle, “and have yourself a nice bath and I’ll have a civilian dinner suit all laid out for you.”

  He swatted me on the back. Very happy. “It’s a date! I’m glad we can become friends again! See you at sunset!” And he walked off in good spirits.

  The spirits I had were going into a power dive! I didn’t have a credit to my name. My identoplate was worthless on any check. If I tried to pass these counterfeits, I’d be promptly arrested and executed. He supposed I would be solvent as most officers would be—money is not that important to them. But he could have done nothing worse to my morale.

  I had a thought. There were silver rails and latches, there were even gold vases and plates behind the airtight door at the passage end.

  I tiptoed down and said, “Open” in every voice pitch I could manage.

  It stayed shut! “OPen! ohPEN! open! OPEN, (BLEEP) IT!”

  A workman up in the flight deck yelled down, “Are you calling me?”

  I got out of there.

  Maybe I could arrange a convincing air crash before tonight. Maybe from ten thousand feet free fall! That was all I could possibly afford.

  PART EIGHT

  Chapter 2

  At nine o’clock that fatal night, the Countess Krak was smuggled out of the tug in a riot helmet and gas cape while Snelz and his guardsmen studiously paid attention only to their dice game in a corner of the darkened hangar.

  The windows of the airbus were darkened. My driver was nowhere to be seen.

  Heller stopped by the dice game and said something to Snelz and then came sauntering over to the vehicle and slid back of the wheelstick.

  I sat there in back, unaccustomed to being so clean and outright uncomfortable in the sparkling one-piece dinner suit. I was trying to look calm but actually I was quite terrified to be sitting so near the Countess Krak.

  The airbus vaulted into the night, speeding up to try to match the way Heller drives.

  The Countess got out of her riot helmet and cape and straightened her hair. And indeed she looked very lovely: her face perfection itself, her tresses like a halo, her dinner gown a pale, pale orange, the kind with the ripple lights that pulsate to the cadence of the female’s speech. Her eyes were sparkling, as innocent as a child’s. How looks can deceive—I hoped I could get through this without her killing me for some fault in grammar or table manners. Gods knew what might happen when she found I couldn’t pay the bill.

  “Oh, Soltan!” she said. “You’ve got a new skyjumper! And all polished up!” She leaned back luxuriously on the circular settee, her gorgeous body stretching like a cat’s. She twitched her pale, pale gold boots. “You like my new boots?”

  As she spoke the boots pulsated light. I edged away. I knew her footwork. Deadly!

  Heller had unblinded the windows and the last twinkling panorama of Voltar’s specialist cities spread out beneath the stars. The streaks of early evening traffic made intricate patterns below. I was caught off base for a moment. It was a glorious night.

  And then I saw we were headed in the wrong direction! Had I been decoyed into an escape? We were not heading for Joy City! We were heading for Pausch Hills!

  “Aren’t you on a wrong course?” I said to Heller up in front. “There aren’t any nightclubs in Pausch. There’s only the filthy rich!”

  Heller laughed, not even looking back. He had the airbus up to five hundred. Thank heavens the new one didn’t shake. Maybe, hopefully, it was rated for five hundred.

  “We’re going to pick you up a dinner companion!” he said. “Can’t have a solitary male sitting about spoiling the party even if he is the host!”

  Oh, my Gods. I couldn’t pay for the three of us, much less four. And any female that resided in Pausch Hills would be the extremely expensive kind. The forecast of the evening’s bill suddenly soared.

  The skyscrapers of Pausch are set amongst artificial streams and lakes, pumped at vast expense up the hills. It is a fascinating panorama at night. The more expensive homes are, however, on top of the skyscrapers. And in renewed alarm, I saw we were not landing at any front door, we were heading for a domed home which had two acres of grounds of its own right on top of the tallest structure. From it one could see vast views or just pretend the gardens limited it to its own solitary world. Expensive!

  What kind of a female would live there? One that could spend a junior officer’s whole year’s pay on a box of sparklepowder! My estimate of the bill to come soared again!

  Heller said a Code word into a microphone. The lights of the home and gardens went out. What an absence of security and espionage sense. The sudden vanishment of those lights would call attention to the place from miles around.

  He landed lightly on the garden flight target.

  A hooded and cloaked figure sped out from under a darkened tree and sprang into the airbus.

  The door slammed. We zipped into the night sky.

  The new passenger laughed a beautiful laugh. “What fun!” She threw off the hood and cloak.

  My Gods, it was Hightee Heller! His sister! The most known face on all Voltar. And although my spirits drooped at this new incautious development, her beauty was enough to turn a stone statue into quivering desire. She was wearing a dark blue shimmergown, a contrast with her pale skin and hair bu
t almost matching her lovely eyes. One glance at such as Hightee Heller and any male swallowed convulsively several times.

  I had enough courage to warn both Heller and the Countess Krak that they must not use her name to anyone. We hit upon his mother’s name, Lindus. I hoped Heller would have brains enough to remember it during introductions.

  “Hightee,” he called back, “that is your dinner companion, Officer Soltan Gris. And this is the girl! We will call her ‘Lindus’ for now.”

  Hightee was settling herself on the settee. She gave me a nod, probably used to Heller’s numerous friends. Then she looked searchingly at the Countess Krak. Heller, (bleep) him, even turned up the interior lights so she could.

  “Jettie,” said his sister. “You have the finest taste in all the world!”

  The Countess Krak beamed!

  The girls lightly touched hands.

  “My,my!” said Hightee, still impressed.

  Devils and Gods, I groaned to myself. This woman you are talking to and complimenting your brother about is a condemned murderess, released illegally only for a brief time, from the dungeons of Spiteos! Hightee, you might be the most beautiful woman on Voltar but you are a complete fool!

  “You look like a Manco lady,” said Hightee.

  “She is,” Heller called back. “Her people once owned property in Atalanta.”

  “Do I know your family?” asked Hightee pleasantly.

  “I don’t think so,” said the Countess Krak. “They lost their property centuries ago. Like so many, they kept their title and don’t even have the square yard of land to erect a tombstone.”

  The girls laughed over this. It was apparently some local Manco joke.

  “From your accent, I’d say the family kept their nobility quite well!” said Hightee. I wondered what she was doing. She sounded like a marriage contractor. And then it dawned on me that Heller must have been on the communication lines to his sister and from her type of interest he must have told her—oh, my Gods—that he wanted her to meet the girl he was going to marry! The difficulties this presented almost spun my wits.