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Clashik Cube
By Steven Gordon
Chapter One
An Unexpected Departure
Roger Barton didn't expect to die that morning.
If he really thought about it, and understood what was about to
happen to him, he would have been concerned. Really.
But his brush with imminent death was not of concern to Roger.
Not of the slightest concern.
It was a sunny day in the town of Englewood, New Jersey. The
birds were singing, the trees were gently swaying in the breeze. But
Roger was paying about as much attention to the weather as he was to
the potential prospect of his imminent death. Roger was busy tending
to his bills.
Which is something of a pity, because had he looked out his
streetside window he might have noticed the slight shimmer by the road,
a shimmer that solified into a person. A stranger. The stranger
looked at Roger through his window. The stranger pointed a device at
Roger. It hummed. An indicator light flashed. Roger, inside his
house, did not notice.
Roger was busy. Phone bill, power bill, water bill, credit card
bill... Roger sometimes thought his whole life was bills. Roger
frowned, sensing someone in his peripheral vision. He glanced up,
looking out the window. Nobody in sight. Nobody, that is, except for
Mrs. Jones, his busy body next door neighbor, who was walking her
poodle. Roger looked back at his bills.
Mrs. Jones stood still on Roger's lawn as Precious, her miniature
poodle, relieved herself. "Hello, who's there?" Mrs. Jones said. She
had thought she had caught a glimpse of someone, a figure running
around the side of Roger's house.
The stranger stealthily made his way to the back of Roger's house.
Bills really irritated Roger. Larger matters, such as his
impending brush with death, might have concerned him more, but Roger
was quite unaware. Quite.
The stranger paused by Roger's back door, manipulating the setting
on his weapon. He fired, speedily but silently burning through the
lock.
If Roger had suspected that his life might be in danger of
prematurely terminating, he would have been very concerned. He would
have started shaking, cowering in fear. Roger didn't tend to take that
sort of thing very well. He was just a simple bookkeeper by trade; he
lived alone, and led a thoroughly predictable and quiet, sedentary
life. He spent all day with numbers, adding them, subtracting them,
multiplying them. Actually, he found it all rather dull, but it was a
living. Everyone had to make a living. Living. That was the key.
Roger wanted to continue doing that.
The stranger made a bee-line for Roger's study.
But Roger's mind was focused on his bills. It was to be the very
last moment for a very long time that he would ever be concerned with
bills or anything else of a mundane nature. For something,
inexplicably, gave him the impression that he was being watched. He
turned around.....
....and notice the stranger, standing behind him. Roger got up,
with a start. "What are you doing in my house!" Roger demanded.
The stranger paused. "Are you Roger Barton, 125538592?" he said,
without even the hint of an accent. He was dressed in a pair of
ordinary slacks, a striped shirt, and a blue windbreaker.
"Well, I'm not sure about the numbers...."
The stranger frowned. "You are Roger Barton."
"Yes, yes I am," said Roger. "Who are you, and what are you doing
in my house?"
The stranger smiled, for the first time. He had located his
objective. "You can call me Carr. I need your help."
"Help? With what?" said Roger. He was a little frightened of the
intruder, to be sure. But he was also intrigued.
"You have to come with me," said Carr, glancing around rapidly.
He was, actually, quite used to recovering objects. He had gone into
hazardous situations before to recover items of great value. But those
were objects, all objects. Recovering something that was breathing was
an entirely different game.
"I don't have to go anywhere," said Roger defiantly. He was
starting to get a feeling that he should, at the least, escort this
stranger to the door. Part of him thought that Carr was just a nut.
But Carr seemed so serious, so intent. He seemed to have a real
purpose.
"We don't have time for this," sighed Carr.
Carr's last statement was certainly very close to the mark.
Outside Roger's home the air shimmered again. Five beings appeared.
They were seven feet tall, had huge brute like arms, and were only
remotely humanoid. Mrs. Jones screamed wordlessly, fainting.
A device on Carr's belt beeped. "They're here," he said. "We've
got to go."
Precious made loud yip-yipping sounds, the kind of sounds toy dogs
usually make when they're in distress. One of the aliens, curious,
gently picked up the little dog in its huge arms. The little thing
kept yip-yip-yipping. The alien put Precious in its mouth and
swallowed the poodle, whole. It slid down the alien esophagus with a
gulp.
The aliens were known as Milshans. They were a particularly ugly
group of aliens, as aliens go. Milshans, in addition to being well-
known for possessing quite a flexible pallete, were also quite ruthless
in pursuit of their objectives. And right now Roger Barton was their
objective.
The Milshans turned their attention to humming devices of their
own. One of them, seeing Roger through the window, made loud grunting
sounds.
"I'm not going anywhere," said Roger, defiantly, again, oblivious
to the hungry visitors outside.
Carr drew a gun, previously hidden inside his jacket, and aimed it
at Roger. It was certainly gun shaped, but the barrel was wider, and
it looked as if it were made of some shiny metal, and it looked like no
gun Roger had ever seen.
Roger laughed. "Where did you get that toy?"
Carr, shifting his aim, fired at Roger's calculator, which had
been sitting on his desk next to his bills. A beam shot out, turning
the appliance into a twisted lump of sputtering metal. A little wisp
of acrid smoke rose from its remains.
Roger took one look at his calculator, then, at the gun, then at
Carr's determined face. "So where are we going?" he said, quickly
changing gears.
At that moment the doorbell rang. Roger looked at Carr. Carr
looked at Roger. "May I?" said Roger. Carr, uncertain, gave a curt
nod.
"Who is it?" said Roger, approaching the door.
"Special delivery," said a high pitched, whiny voice. The
Milshans were well known for their guile.
"What?" said Roger.
"Special delivery," said the thin voice.
Roger opened the door. Five lumbering Milshans, weapons raised,
greeted him. One had little pieces of petite white fur on its lips.
Carr slammed the door shut, literally in their faces. "Down!" he
cried, forcing Roger to the ground. The aliens fired, carving fist
sized holes through the front door. The noise from their weapons were
so loud that Roger found himself covering his ears.
Carr, on his hands and knees, pulled Roger along as they quickly
retreated back to the study. As they crawled Carr pulled a device from
his belt. "Alcon!" he yelled.
The aliens ceased firing. Suddenly they heard a mighty heave, and
the door was bashed in. The intruders had entered the house.
"Acknowledged." said the device.
"Two for phase out. Emergency! Now!" Carr screamed. He grabbed
Roger, just as the first of the creatures came into view. The alien
raised its weapon, but Carr was quicker. He fired, a beam struck the
intruder, and it went down.
But two more came into view, and this time they were firing first.
Roger, in a state of near shock, was about to yell a warning, when he
felt a paralysis grip him. Reality faded... and formed again.
To an outside observer, Roger and Carr shimmered, faded, and
simply disappeared.
"Open your eyes."
Roger was sitting, crouched, with his hands over his sealed lids.
He put his hands down, and opened his eyes. He was in a bright metal
alcove. Beyond it he could see many consoles of blinking lights.
Something told him he wasn't in New Jersey anymore.
Carr stepped out of the alcove, and raced to the controls.
Roger slowly stood up, and followed Carr. The main room was
replete with all sorts of sophisticated looking controls. There were
all sorts of buttons and dials, though, oddly enough, none of them
seemed to be labeled. Display screens lined the room, and
incomprehensible lights flashed from the different control boards. In
the center of the room was a viewscreen, centered on a planet. Roger
stared at it. "That looks like North America," he remarked, almost in
a daze.
"Um hm," said Carr, rapidly manipulating the controls.
"Where are we?" said Roger.
"The Alconia," said Carr. He pressed a button. "Alcon! Scan for
artificial bodies."
"Checking," said an artificial voice.
"The Alconia," Roger repeated. "This is your spaceship?"
"Not exactly mine," said Carr. "Well, a loan, maybe."
"Null search," said the artificial voice.
"Where are they?" said Carr.
"Who?" said Roger.
"Scan the lower AG band," Carr commanded. This was troublesome.
Just where was the alien ship located? Carr's first impulse was to set
an escape course. But first he needed to know where the Milshan ship
was located. It was odd, thought Carr, that he hadn't detected the
Milshan ship following him to Earth.
"Particle anomoly in local sector 14-7," said the voice.
Carr manipulated the controls. A green box appeared on a part of
the viewscreen. The area within the box expanded, and was magnified.
"Particle distortion-"
"I see it," snapped Carr. That area of space was, on first
inspection, empty. But that region was also shimmering slightly, as
if a foggy glass were distorting their vision of that region. "They
were tac-cloaked. We've got them! Set course... 117 by 119 by 221...
top speed!"
Roger felt the ship humming with energy. The image of the Earth
on the screen started to recede. Wait, he felt like calling out. But
he kept silent.
"Pursuit," said the voice.
"Well of course!" Carr thundered. "You didn't expect them just to
sit around knitting, did you?"
"Who?" said Roger, also wondering how Carr, an alien, knew about
knitting.
"Shh!" said Carr, staring intently at his controls.
"What?" said Roger.
"Milshan ship dropcloaking, gaining," said the voice.
Suddenly on the screen they saw it, a half moon shape, gainining
on them.
"Are those the monsters who attacked us?" asked Roger.
Carr said, "Alcon, engage J-2 boosters."
The ship hummed and vibrated. After a few tense minutes, the
Milshan ship started to drop back. Soon it was out of viewscreen
range. Carr sighed, letting out a deep breath. Evidently the crisis
had passed.
"Carr?" said Roger meekly.
Carr swiveled around. "Earthman!" he said, as if noticing Roger
for the first time. There was a hard look on his face.
Roger shrunk back.
"Welcome to the Alconia!" He burst out into a great smile.
"So these Milshans wanted to capture me," said Roger.
"Not precisely," said Carr. "They wanted to consume you."
"What!!!"
"The Milshans gain nourishment by consuming organic life. But
their digestive tract is also geared to absorb the intellectual
storage, the memory, if you will, of higher life forms," said Carr
didactically. Now that the situation was less tense, Carr spoke more
freely. In any event, there was nothing more to do until they reached
their destination. And Carr was curious, curious about this Earthling
he had been sent to retrieve. Just what did the Sage want with him
anyway?
"These... Milshans... learn things by eating people?" said Roger,
feeling a little sick.
"Well, they'd get a stomachache before they learned much from
humans," said Carr, relishing Roger's discomfort. "Alcon, situation?"
"Milshans evaded. No pursuit recorded," said Alcon. Roger had
since learned that "the voice" was Alcon, the ship's computer.
"And what are you going to do with me?" said Roger, wondering
where this all was leading to. He had figured out, by now, that Carr
was an alien from another planet, and that he, Roger, was in a
spaceship. But what did they intend to do with him? Would he be
interrogated? Or used in some alien experiment?
"Do with you?" said Carr. He blinked, and his face grewn stern,
as if suddenly deciding something. "Do with you? Dissection, of
course." His hand fell across his holstered blaster. An evil leer
took form on his face.
Roger, starting to shake, took a tentative step backwards.
Carr broke out laughing. The tension broke. "Earthman! I just
risked my own life to save yours. Do you think I would cut you up so
easily?"
Roger, seeing that another jest had been had at his expense,
relaxed a bit. "I thought you might do that... to learn about me. My
mind, I mean."
"Your mind?" Carr looked confused. "How would I learn anything
about you by cutting you up into chops?"
"Don't you have some futuristic technology that can look into the
minds of dead people...."
Carr laughed. "Afraid not, Earthman. Nor am I a Milshan. Since
I can't learn by snacking, I have to do it the old fashioned way."
Roger looked uncomfortable. Was this to be an interrogation?
"Talking. Conversation. Words. Painless. I promise."
"Oh." Then, "Just what is it you want to know? Do you want to
learn about Earth people so you can exploit our weaknesses, and conquor
our planet?" This could be the first advance scout, sent to probe
Earth's weaknesses, to inform the invasion fleet of the best way to
attack....
Carr laughed again, abruptly dispelling Roger's image of invading
aliens. "You really are an entertaining sort. No, I have no interest
in your planet, although I have visited it before. I do, however, have
an interest in you."
Understanding dawned on Roger's face. "Me? You're all after me?
Why?"
Carr went silent for a moment, as if he were choosing his words
most carefully. Then he said, very softly, "We need you to find the
great possession, the Cube of Power."
Chapter 2
Words of the Sage
"Cube of Power?" said Roger. "What's that?"
Carr's eyes narrowed. "Have a seat, Roger," he said, indicating
a paddedchair with metal rimmed arm rests. Roger sat.
"You've never heard of the Cube of Power?" Carr said.
"No, should I have?" said Roger.
"Alcon," said Carr, raising his head.
"Truth level 100%," said Alcon.
"Of course I'm telling the truth... this chair is a polygraph,"
Roger realized, lifting his arms.
"Arms down, Earthling!" Carr commanded. Roger complied.
Carr looked thoughtful. "Is it possible you don't know about it?"
"What makes you think I have?" said Roger. "Just what is this
Cube of Power, anyway?"
"That," said Carr, "is a long and complicated story."
"Too long and complicated for my simple Earthling mind, is that
what you're saying?"
Carr considered, nodding. "That's correct."
"You take me by force, you kidnap me from Earth, and... I demand
an explanation!" said Roger.
"Demand?" said Carr.
Roger shrank a little. "Well, request, then."
Carr sighed. "All right, I'll explain. A long long time ago,
when you humans were still hitting each other over the head with wooden
clubs, intelligent life in the galaxy was waging huge space battles
over resources, planets, territory..."
"So they were hitting each other over the head with clubs too,
only on a grander scale," noted Roger astutely.
"Well, in a sense, maybe," conceded Carr. "Anyway, after several
generations the battles and the space wars grew more violent, more
destructive, and countless worlds were sacked. It was waste, Roger,
waste on a grand scale. Whole planets looted, countless quadrillions
killed, a quadrillion more forced to live in the pitted ruins of their
planets, like barbarians, only vaguely retaining memories of how great
their former societies had been. And the killing continued, and
spread, and it seemed like civilized life itself might be snuffed out
of the galaxy." Carr paused. A shadow of pain crossed his face.
"So what happened?" said Roger, in a low voice.
"On one planet, there was a group dedicated to ending the
slaughter. Ancient legends have many names for this group, but they
were most commonly referred to as the Polynscinarashicomlornen, or, as
the centuries passed, the Polynsci. It was said that the leader of the
Polynsci, a being named Raylen, searched for a solution to end the
fighting. He contemplated raising a great battle fleet to put all the
squabbling forces in their place; but the Polynsci did not have the
might to put such a force together." Carr paused before continuing, as
if recalling things he had learned long ago.
"It was said that Raylen went travelling into the endless depths
of space to find a solution. It was there that he happened on the
Cubes. Did he find them, or did they arrange to find him? No one
knows for certain."
"The Cubes? What where they?" asked Roger.
"I don't know," said Carr pensively. "I think, I suppose they
must have been a race of beings, far advanced, far advanced beyond any
known civilization. Anyway, Raylen told them of the problems of the
universe, the strife, the continual warring, and in return they gave
him the Cube, the Cube of Power. As we know it, it is a very great
power. It is not the greatest power, but it is great indeed. It can
command armies, it can destroy spacefleets, indeed, it can even destroy
planets." Carr shivered. "I have seen some of the records that
claimed this was done."
"What happened to the Cube?"
"Raylen employed it to restore peace to a troubled universe, and
he and the Polynsci kept it for safekeeping. Beyond that the records,
what few there are of that far past era, are conflicting. From what I
was able to piece together, Raylen was betrayed by evil Polynscis, who
wanted the power for themselves. After a time it fell from the hands
of one ruler to another, one dictator to another."
"Just think of it, Roger! In the hands of a good man, the Cube
could be used to maintain peace, freedom, and civilization in the
cosmos. In the hands of a tyrant, the whole of civilization trembles,
and suffers mightily upon every whim of the possessor."
"That sounds pretty nasty," said Roger, thinking he definitely
did not want to get involved. "And who holds the Cube now?"
"No one knows." Carr shrugged. "It has been lost for several
generations. The last known being to possess it was a humanoid named
Drash. The records say that he was one of the worst of them all. He
did not use the Thing of Power to gain wealth, or command, or anything
of the sort. He employed the Cube for cruel fun."
"Cruel fun?"
Carr nodded. "I'll give an example, one that sticks in my mind.
One time the citizens of Ogokrem petitioned Drash for help. They were
freezing, all their power sources had been destroyed." He shook his
head. "Desperate they must have been to appeal to a tyrant, especially
one as malevolent as Drash. But this was Aalash XII, you see, far from
the sun."
"And what did Drash do?" said Roger, in a small voice.
"He brought the planet and the sun together"
"He moved the planet closer to the sun?" The enormousity of the
concept reverberated inside Roger's little mind.
"No," said Carr, annoyed that the Earthman hadn't understood. "He
sent the planet into the sun."
"Into the sun," Roger repeated, dully. "What happened then?"
"Wuuf! To a crisp." Carr gave a sarcastic grin.
"And you're taking me to this Drash person." Roger was hardly
sanguine. What was he to be, some sort of offering? A new toy for the
ruler?
"No, no, Earthman-"
"Call me Roger." Roger very much disliked being called
"Earthman".
"-Earthman Roger, this was two centuries ago. Drash was merely
the last recorded individual to possess the Cube."
"Last recorded? What happened to it then?"
"No one's quite sure. One day Drash was playing with the moons
of Plaleb III, causing them to smack into each other. The moons were
uninhabited, not that Drash cared, but the tinkering caused enormous
tidal changes, and after a while huge chunks of moon came crashing down
on Plaleb III itself. Drash had been watching, obviously amused, his
ship set back, at a distance... and it just disappeared. His ship,
him, the Cube, everything."
Roger thought this was ghastly. Inwardly he was thankful that
the Earth only had one moon. But then he considered Drash's end.
"Maybe someone else grabbed the Cube."
"It's possible," Carr shrugged. "But if so, the possessor has
been keeping a very low profile. Usually, when someone else did grab
the Cube, he would perform some enormous demonstration to announce the
fact." He looked thoughtful. " Though legend had it that Raylen would
someday retake possession of the Cube. Perhaps he did."
"But I thought Raylen existed in the distant past!" said Roger.
"Maybe someone else stole it from Drash." But inwardly Roger checked
himself; why should he care? All he wanted was to go home. Even if
everything Carr told him was true, someone else could deal with this
crisis.
"Could be," said Carr thoughfully. "But if so, they're not using
the Cube. There've been no flexing of power on that scale in the past
two centuries. But if the Cube did turn up again, in the wrong
hands...."
"All right, you've convinced me how important this Cube thing is.
But where do I fit into this?" This was the big question. Why would
anyone pick Roger for this, if indeed he was picked?
Carr coughed. "Well, I've been empowered by a galactic federation
to-"
"There's a galactic federation?" There was hope, then, if all the
civilized worlds had banded together, thought Roger.
"Yes."
"Really?" Roger was prepared to believe it, and yet there was
something in the way that Carr said it which did not sound wholly
convincing.
"Absolutely," replied Carr. Alcon emitted a soft electronic hum.
Carr continued, "The, ah, galactic federation has empowered me to
find the Cube and restore harmony throughout the galaxy. Unfortunately
others, such as the Milshans, are also after the Cube of Power, and if
they get their hands on it believe you me we'll be in for another
trentury of terror."
Roger wondered how long a trentury was. It sounded very long.
Carr explained that he was taking Roger to Arashum, where one of
the Advisory Arms of the old Polynsci Empire resided. It had long
since been sacked, of course, but Carr had discovered an inner chamber
where the Sage resided. The Sage was an advisory computer, one of many
set up by the Polynsci in their time to advise them on how to manage
galactic affairs. Most of the Advisory Arms had been wrecked or even
maliciously destroyed in the intervening centuries, but this one's core
was still intact.
Carr hadn't thought to find it so; he had been exploring, as
usual, and thought there might be some clue of what had become of the
Polynsci and, by extention, the Cube of Power. No one knew just where
the Polynsci had come from, but their administrative base, (aside from
their capitol, Kalitron Centon II, destroyed by the artificial
supernova of 1183 A.R.) was centered around the regional Arms.
The upper levels no longer stood, of course; when Carr had first
touched down on Arashum, all he found were scattered debris, and ruins.
But sensors had picked up underground structures still intact, and Carr
descended. Those areas had been raided many, many times in the past;
they were burnt out, dead husks, merely shadows of their former glory.
But then, in the council chamber, there was a flicker of
artificial light, and, through the gloom, Carr had seen a hidden
passageway open, one that had not opened for anyone in many lifetimes.
Carr stepped through a long hallway, and shortly found himself in the
presence of the Sage.
How the Sage had kept itself intact for all those years was not
known; and Carr was so overjoyed to have found this, perhaps the last
functional link to the long gone Polynsci, that he simply ran his hands
along the dusty instrument panels, musing silently.
"Welcome." the Sage had said. Carr jumped. He had hoped, but...
"You are the Sage?"
"I am an Advisory Arm," the machine had said, softly humming.
Carr had been blunt. "Do you know where the Cube of Power is?"
He hadn't expected an answer; either that the machine would say
no, he had thought, or it wouldn't recognize his authority to ask such
a question.
"Yes." said the machine. "You must go to Earth, coordinates 23-
54-433. Roger Barton."
Carr had rapidly written wrote the numbers down, and the name. He
hadn't thought, at the time, why the Sage was revealing this to him.
"Earth. I've been there before, once. Does this Earthling have the
Cube of Power?"
"You must bring him here." And then the machine fell silent, and
no amount of coaxing on Carr's part could get it to speak again.
Arashum was a cold, wasted planet. The wind whipped by Roger,
making a whiny, eerie sound. Carr had given him a thin, metal jacket
which he claimed would ward off the cold. Only a minute had passed
here in the outdoors and already Roger was chilled to the bone. It was
nearly nightfall, and Roger could barely see a thing. Carr held a
lighttorch in an attempt to ward off the gloom.
They didn't have far to walk; the ship had landed in a mostly flat
grassy field, adjacent to the ancient ruins.
"But why me?" said Roger, as they walked. He looked around, in
the gloom, and shivered. Carr kept a reassuring hand on his holstered
blaster.
"I don't know," said Carr. "Somehow, you tie into the Cube."
Carr had thought about it too; but he couldn't figure it out. What did
the Sage want with this Earther?
"But I don't know anything about this Cube thing!" Roger
protested. "Are you really sure you've got the right person?"
Carr nodded. They entered a ruin. Beyond a scattered pile of
debris they found stairs, leading ominously down into the gloom. It
did not look very inviting to Roger. "Do we have to go down there?"
Carr smiled, nodding, as he subtly ran his hand across his
blaster. Roger, sighing, started to descend. He feared that something
could leap out of the dark and gobble him up before Carr could even
move a muscle in his defense. But Carr hadn't given him any
alternatives.
The stairs were creaky, and, like everything else in this place,
littered with rubbish. Roger worried that he would fall down the
stairs, and land at the bottom in the dark lying against something
horrible. But they descended safety, and after several minutes on the
stairs they leveled out on a long corridor, lined with many rooms. As
they walked Roger tried to look at these chambers through the gloom,
but all he could see were misty shapes, some waving at him. Dust
swirling in the gloom, he thought.
Roger tried to walk as quietly as he could. But there was so much
rubbish on the ground, he kept stepping on things. And then he heard
it. Crunch Crunch.
"What was that?" Roger whispered.
"What?" said Carr. The crunching stopped. They stood still for a
moment.
Carr didn't hear anything. He pointed forward. They moved on.
Roger wondered if Carr knew where they were going. They had left
the corridor now and were maneuvering through a maze of cluttered
rooms. One time Roger had to climb over a broken chair that was
blocking the way. He did so, rather skillfully, he thought, only to
suddenly swerve to avoid stepping on a... skeleton. Roger jumped,
shaken.
Carr followed, close behind, and he looked down. "Good source of
calcium" he said.
Roger looked at Carr. Carr pointed forward. Roger went.
Crunch Crunch Crunch.
This time they both heard it. It stopped, just seconds after
Roger and Carr did.
"Now do you believe?" said Roger.
"Could be the structure coming loose," said Carr. But he drew his
blaster even as he said it. Neither of them believed it.
"Yeah, right," said Roger softly.
They arrived at their destination. It looked like it had been
some sort of conference room. There was a long round table in the
center of the chamber, although there were no chairs to be seen. Carr
peered at the walls, looking for an opening. He did this for some
time, and Roger began to lose patience.
"Are you really sure we're in the right place?"
Carr, a little angry that the entrance was not there, mimicked
Roger. "Are you really sure your nose is in the right place?"
Taking a deep breath, Carr stepped back . "We're here!" he said.
"Shh!" said Roger. He didn't want to alert the crunchies.
They waited. In silence. For just a moment. Then, a hidden
panel in the wall opened. "Come..." said a soft voice.
Carr looked at Roger, giving him a universal, "I told you so,"
look.
"Must we?" said Roger, not at all liking the sound of the voice in
the dark.
Crunch Crunch.
"I'll lead the way," said Roger, quickly entering.
What would they find? What awaited them in the dark? Roger
didn't have long to wonder; very shortly, they arrived. Roger and Carr
found themselves before the Sage, the Advisory Arm of Arashum. It was
an enormous machine; and Roger and Carr were only seeing the interface,
which filled the entire room. It towered many feet towards them, its
screens lit up, each undoubtedly able to provided uncounted amounts of
lost knowledge. Carr, again, stood in awe of the immense wealth of
information it represented. Roger admired all the pretty lights.
"I have brought the one called Roger Barton, O Sage," said Carr,
kneeling a bit. He knew to show the proper respect.
"Earthling," said the Arm. "It is good you are here." The voice
sounded artifical, and yet not cold, nor impersonal.
Crunch Crunch sounds could be heard in distance. But no one was
paying attention.
"What do you want with me?" said Roger. "Are you going to take
over my mind?" His hands momentarily touched his head, as if to ward
off a psychic probe.
"No."
"Are you going to hook my mind into your machine?"
"No."
"Are you going to program me?"
From the sidelines Carr could not resist cracking a smile.
"No."
"Well, then," said Roger, just a little bit relieved. "Just what
is it you, ah, want with me?"
Someone... something... no, a group of somethings entered the
hidden corridor. They walked, trying to be as silent as possible, to
reduce their crunching sounds.
"You have the unique qualification necessary to find the Cube, a
characteristic that none other in the galaxy possesses as much as you
do."
"And what might that be?" said Roger. He thought quickly. He was
an above average student in school, but hardly a genius. He was hardly
an athlete, and certainly not a hero. In fact, quite the opposite-
The Sage broke his reverie. "You are the one to get the Cube," it
repeated.
"Where can the Cube be found?" said Carr, trying to cut through
things.
The answer was immediate. "You must go to Clashik and pass the
five trials of the Cube, one for each facet. Should you survive you
will then find what you seek."
The crunching pursuers were almost at the chamber of the Sage.
"Claskik? Clashik?" Carr thought furiously.
"Clashik," boomed the voice.
"What do you mean, 'trials'?" said Roger, displaying a healthy
concern for his own well-being.
"The trials to determine who is worthy of the Cube of Power. You
must beware the-"
Suddenly, a large hoard of beings rushed in. Milshans, at least a
dozen of them. "That's them!" one screamed in a high pitched voice.
An overeager trooper fired a laser bolt, hitting the Sage. A wild
cluster of sparks flew from the machine.
"Cease fire!" said one, evidently the leader. Turning to Carr and
Roger, it said, "You are now prisoners of the Milshan Empire!"
Carr froze. His blaster was in hand, but he knew that to use it
would be suicide.
"You!" said the leader, pointing a bony five inch finger at Roger.
"Where is Cube?"
"Uh... Uh..." Roger was so paralyzed with fright, that he couldn't
operate his mouth properly. He wanted to say "Clashik", but just about
now his motor controls weren't operating properly.
The leader approached Roger, licking his lips. "We get the whole
truth, piece by piece, bite by bite." The Milshan opened its huge
mouth.
Roger stared into the thing as it opened to its full size.
Saliva dripped from the upper teeth to the tongue, now about a foot and
a half apart from each other. Roger, still frozen in fear, couldn't
even move. He whimpered a little, waiting for the end to come.
Carr cursed inwardly, realizing that if he were to save Roger, the
time to act was now. But he knew that to take one motion in Roger's
direction would mean the end of his own life.
So Roger found himself staring into an alien maw, realizing that
for the second time since he started to do his bills several days ago
on Earth that his very existence even thirty seconds into the immediate
future was in grave doubt.
And his life would have ended then and there, as surely as
Milshans pluck their own fingers and eat them for breakfast, when all
of a sudden a maser blast hit the far wall. It was a brilliant
explosion, and it was loud.
An explanation is in order. A maser is a light-energy weapon
several times more powerful than a conventional laser. Even a blaster
is little more than popgun, so to speak, compared to a maser.
They all, even the Milshan leader, turned and looked at the source
of the beam. A huge figure stood before them. It was clad in shiny
brown armor and a visored helmet. It also had a very large weapon in
its hand. It didn't look very friendly.
It was Carr who recognized the figure first. "Envile?" he said,
half asking.
The helmet nodded, but only slightly. A shiver visibly ran
through the Milshans.
Roger found that he had regained his ability to move again. He
took a step towards Carr, and whispered, "Is this a friend?"
Carr whispered back, "No, he's a professional mercenary. One of
the biggest killers in the galaxy. Quite a sadist, too."
"Oh no!" Roger whispered.
"Would you have rather that he hadn't interrupted?" said Carr,
quite reasonably.
They heard a squeaky sound, and then from the one called Envile
they heard Carr's words, amplified. "No, he's a professional
mercenary. One of the biggest killers in the galaxy. Quite a sadist,
too", and then a click.
"I see that my reputation has preceeded me," boomed Envile. "I
will now take the one with the knowledge of the Cube of Power," he
said, matter of factly. He beckoned a crooked finger at Roger.
The Milshan commander only had a dozen of its best troops.
Despite the inherent weakness of its position, it said, "Let us ask the
Sage, so that it will tell all of us."
The helmet nodded. This was acceptable. Once the Sage told them
where the Cube was, Envile would eliminate all of them. He decided
this, matter of factly, much as a grocer decides where to shelve the
milk in the morning.
"Sage, where is the Cube?" asked the Milshan, addressing the
machine directly. Nobody noticed when Carr, still holding his blaster,
walked right next to Roger.
There was silence for a moment. Then the Sage spoke. "Gumba."
A soft oooh went through the crowd.
"Umba umba umba gumba," the Sage added suggestively. Then it
sputtered bright little sparks one more time and spoke no more.
"The laser fire must have damaged it," Carr whispered.
The aliens were still trying to put together the meaning of the
message. The Milshans were in a huddle amongst themselves, chittering
softly. Roger and Carr tried to act invisible and edge towards the
exit. They had almost reached it when they heard a mighty "Wait!"
Envile's mighty maser was pointed straight at them. At this range
there could be no missing. "What did the machine tell you?" he roared.
Carr spoke quickly before Roger could answer. "Nothing... just
what it told you. Something about umba."
"You must be interrogated!" said Envile, taking a step forward.
"They are our prisoners!" said the Milshan leader, rather
impetuously.
The Maser turned aside, but only for a second. There was a loud
explosion, and the Milshan leader was dead. Four or five of its
comrades who happened to be in that part of the room were also
extinguished. The maser turned back to Roger and Carr.
"The prisoners are yours," said one of the surviving Milshans
weakly.
"We go to my ship!" said Envile, reaching forward to grab Roger's
arm.
Carr felt a sense of deja vu. Once again he stood powerless while
the situation went out of his control. But here again he was
powerless. Firing on Envile was suicide. Carr had no illusions that
the power of his blaster could puncture the force armor that Envile
wore. What else was his blaster good for...?
An idea coalesced, and in a split second a decision was made.
Before Envile could grab Roger, Carr did, pulling him back, instantly
aiming his blaster at the Earther's head.
"One more move, Envile, and the secret of the Cube will be gone
forever," said Carr. It was a bluff, of course, for now Carr also knew
where the Cube could be found.
But Envile did not know that. Still, his prize would not get away
this easily. "If you take him I will kill you. If you release him you
will live."
Carr maneuvered behind Roger, using him as a shield. "A maser is
not awfully discriminating," he cautioned.
Roger, meanwhile, was not terribly happy with the situation. He
had informally considered Carr an ally. Now he felt a bit used, but he
stayed silent, properly understanding that the future of his existence
was again at stake and he was totally terrified into inaction by the
prospect.
"Logic," said Envile. "Obey me and live. Disobey and die.
Respond."
"I don't believe you would spare my life," said Carr. "And, as
I've just demonstrated, you cannot kill me without getting Roger here.
Logic indeed!"
"Logic. You will not kill your companion."
"Are you sure?" said Carr, putting the blaster muzzle even closer
to Roger's head. "Are you quite sure?"
He slowly started walking backwards to the exit, dragging Roger
along. "If anyone follows," said Carr, "I'll leave the Earthling
behind for you--with a neat little perforation through his gut."
Envile stood still. He realized that Carr had the means, and
perhaps, just perhaps, the intent to do so.
As soon as they had gotten a bit out of the room Carr hissed,
"Run!"
They ran. But shortly thereafter they heard the loud whine of
Envile's powered legs, closing in on them in leaps and bounds.
They had reached the stairs with Envile not far behind them when
Carr raised his blaster, yelling "Run!" at the top of his voice. Carr
reset his blaster to maximum burst and fired at the ceiling over the
foot of the stairs. Huge chunks of metal and masonry came crashing
down, seconds after Carr bounded up the stairs.
He passed by Roger, who had stood still, watching. "It won't stop
him!" said Carr. "Run!" he yelled.
Indeed, seconds later they heard a crash, as Envile tried to break
through the debris. By the time he broke through, however, Roger and
Carr had gotten the headstart they needed and they reached the ship.
"What... is he?" Roger gasped, as they headed for the control
room.
"Mech enhanced human," said Carr. The minute he set foot on the
bridge he said, "Alcon, emergency liftoff!"
The ship shuddered, lifting violently. Roger momentarily lost his
balance before he could stagger into a seat.
"Well, they'll really be after us now," said Carr. "With the Arm
out of commission, you're the only link to the Cube of Power."
"What about you? You know where it is too!"
"True. But the Sage said you were the one who could retrieve it,
remember?"
"The trials," said Roger. "But that doesn't make sense. I'm not
the bold, adventuresome type!"
"I gathered that," said Carr. "It's a pity we couldn't get the
computer to tell us why you were chosen."
"And why did you threaten to kill me!"
"We got out, didn't we?"
"Well, yes." Roger had to concede that.
"You're alive, aren't you?"
"That's indisputable, I suppose." That wast true, too.
"Earthling, the best way to save your life was to threaten to
extinguish it."
"Hm." That put Roger deep in thought. Somehow, he just didn't
feel very grateful.
Arashum receded from the viewscreen.
"Ship in pursuit," said Alcon, the ship's computer.
"Yes, yes, how fast are we widening the gap?" said Carr, yawning.
"They are closing the gap with us. At an increasing rate!"
"How can it be catching up to us?" said Carr. "Nothing is faster than
this ship!"
"Illogical. The pursuing vessel obviously is."
"Scan!"
The image of the ship expanded on the screen. Specs appeared on
the side.
Carr gave a low whistle.
"What?" said Roger.
"Ace class battlecruiser. Semi-automated. Full weaponry," said
Carr, staring intently at the screen. They hadn't made any of those in
years. Ace ships were bristling with weapons and armor. It was a
squadron of Ace Battlecruisers, centuries ago, that had destroyed the
entire moon of Kaltheria. Nowadays Ace class ships had all virtually
ceased to exist, destroyed in one great battle or another over the
years. In fact, there was only one rumored to still be in operation.
"What does it all mean?" asked Roger.
Carr look devastated. "Envile." he said softly.
Chapter 3
Flight, and Capture
"Just who is this Envile?" Roger wanted to know.
"A rogue, one of the biggest. With the breakdown of organized
society his kind came to rule the spaceways. Envile... he's one of the
worst marauders. He was the one who pulled off the Eridani II raid."
"Huh?" said Roger.
Carr got a glassy-eyed look. "He pulled into orbit around
Eridani II, and dispatched the picket ships, they weren't much trouble.
Then he broadcast the ultimatum---the crystals, or else." Carr shook
his head. "They wouldn't give it. So Envile killed them all. Over
four hundred people dead."
"They fought him when he came down for the crystals?" querried
Roger.
"No!" said Carr. "That was just it. They didn't fight. His men
came down and took the crystals. Then, when they were all safely back
in orbit, Envile bombarded the place. There were no survivors."
"Why?" asked Roger, stunned.
"He doesn't take defiance lightly," said Carr. He looked up at
Roger. "And he does get what he wants. He will do anything to you,
including dissection, if he thinks it will help him."
"What about your galactic federation? Can't they help us?"
Carr suddenly busied himself at the controls.
"Carr?"
"Computer predicts evasion option unavailable--Ace class 77% more
maneuverable," reported Alcon.
"Why can't we out run it?" asked Roger, remembering their easy
escape from the Milshan forces.
Carr rapidly fiddled with the controls as he talked. "Those were
mere Milshan field ships. This is a battlecruiser, a big one, with
engines more powerful than ours."
"So... will we be in a space battle?" Roger was wide-eyed.
"If we did, it wouldn't be much of one," said Carr. "None of our
armorments can even scratch the paint on that thing. Haven't you been
listening? That's an Ace class Battlecruiser. Top of the line.
Massive force shields. Layer upon layer of armor. What we're in is a
mere courier!"
"Carr, what about this federation of yours? I at least thought
they would've given you the best ship available!" said Roger
despearetly.
"Well, this was the best ship available!" replied Carr. "Alcon,
increase capacity to 10% above maximum!"
"Warning. Speeds in excess of-"
"Override. Authorize." Carr snapped.
The ship accelerated, started to creak.
"The ship's going to break apart!" Roger yelled.
"Since when are you the expert on space flight!" Carr yelled back.
Their argument might have grown nasty if a well aimed laser burst
had not struck the engines, rendering their argument academic.
"Forced deceleration to safer levels," Alcon reported.
"We've been hit!" exclaimed Roger.
"Thank you," said Carr sarcastically.
"Message incoming," Alcon reported.
It was Envile. "Surrender, or die."
"You can't destroy us!" said Carr.
Another bolt hit the ship. Envile was aiming carefully.
Carr, jolted, regained his composure. "All right, maybe you can.
But destroy us and forever lose the secret of the location of the Cube
of Power!"
"Attraction beam locked on," reported Alcon. A beam of light
extended from Envile's mighty ship. It touched the Alconia, and it
slowly started to pull the fleeing ship closer.
"I look foward to our reunion," said Envile, fading from the
screen.
"Carr, what do we do?" said Roger desperately. He had absolutely
no desire to be dissected.
Carr slumped in his command chair. He was slowly but methodically
pressing a button. Every time he did it a light on the instrument
panel flashed on, then off.
"Carr, we've got to do something!"
Light on.
"Can't we escape in a lifeboat or something?"
Light off. "No." Carr was just staring, blankly, into the
distance.
"Can't we pull away?"
Light on. "No."
"Can't we pull a decoy or trick or something?"
They heard a clank. "Docking accomplished. They're boarding,"
Alcon reported.
Light off. "What've you got in mind?"
"How should I know? You're the one from outer space!"
Roger was exasperated. Finally, he noticed what Carr was doing.
"That button, you're pushing," he said. "It's a plan, isn't it?"
It probably was some sort of device, a weapon, perhaps, that would
defend them from Envile.
"No," said Carr.
"Then why are you doing it?"
"It makes the light go on and off," explained Carr.
"Is that it? Is that all you've been doing? What about thinking
of a plan?"
They could hear metal clanking near by.
"Aren't you even going to lock the door?"
"Why bother? They'd just burn through."
Now they could hear the sounds of marching. Heavy marching.
"Well, I'm glad to see you're taking this so calmly. After all,
they're after me, not you," said Roger. "Maybe they'll just dissect me
and let you go on your way."
"Ok," said Carr. "I get the message. You want a plan?"
"Yes!"
The clanking was very close now.
"It will require your full cooperation."
"Fine. Great! I'm one hundred percent behind you.! Just do it!"
Carr stuck his blaster up against Roger's head.
"This is a plan?"
"When in doubt, stick with what works," said Carr, just as the
first boarding robot entered the control room.
Actually, there were several boarding robots. They looked like
people, with two arms, two legs, a body, and a head. But they had no
faces, no eyes, noses, or mouths. They clanked as they moved,
encircling Roger and Carr. "Odd, not using his crew for this,"
commented Carr.
More robots entered the bridge. They kept coming. In fact, they
were starting to fill up the control room.
"Halt, or I shoot!" said Carr, when they had nearly come within
grabbing distance.
"Stop!" said a familiar voice. The robots stopped. Envile had
reappeared on the viewscreen.
"This is the second time in today that I'm pleased to see you,"
said Carr, grinning.
Envile was no fool. This time he was fully prepared for Carr's
little stunt.
"You may change your mind," he said.
Carr frowned. He didn't like the confidence in that voice. Did
that mean...
"Robots, fire your stun weapons!"
A wave of electricity washed over Roger and Carr. As
consciousness faded, Carr heard Envile chuckling. "Yes, you may change
your mind."
The words kept flowing, over and over. Slowly they started to
register in Roger's mind. "Wake up, wake up!"
Roger blinked, opening his eyes. He was in a cell, of course.
Carr, nearby, stirred.
"You prisoners are easier to turn off than you are to turn on,"
boomed the voice. "Maybe this will help." A loud claxon sounded.
Carr and Roger moaned, and unwelcomed consciousness returned.
"Welcome to the detention block," came Envile's voice. "Only the
finest, for our new guests."
They were in a cell with three metal walls, a metal ceiling, a
metal floor, and a shimmering forcefield where the forth wall might've
been. Envile's image was projected on one of the walls. "Excellent,"
Envile said, seeing them slowly get up. "I'll be down in a short
while."
Envile could not immediately meet with the prisoners; he was busy
directing the search of the Alconia. If there was even a chance that
some scrap of evidence or clue on the ship would reveal the location of
the Cube of Power, he wanted it. Of course, Roger and Carr were his
prime leads, but Envile did not want to leave any other possible
sources of information uninvestigated.
For Envile wanted the Cube of Power very badly indeed. His kind
thrived on power. And the great power of the Cube was something he
simply couldn't resist. With it he would be the most powerful being in
the galaxy. Forever.
In the cell, Roger yawned, and sighed. "Well, we're done for now.
But at least he doesn't know that we know-"
Carr leaped up, clamping a hand over Roger's mouth. He mouthed
something softly to Roger.
"Oh, you think they're spying on us, then?" said Roger. The
thought had not occurred to him.
Carr slapped his hand against his forehead, nodding slightly. How
could the Earther be so stupid?
Roger thought about escape. Was it possible to hope? "Is there
any hope of escape?"
"Do you see any?"
"Maybe we could overpower-"
"Envile? His robots?" But that started Carr thinking. Besides
Envile, all they had seen were robots. Maybe Envile did not have a
human crew. It made sense, in a certain twisted way. Envile,
meglomaniac that he was, needed absolute control over his subjects.
What better crew was there than a bunch of obedient mechanicons? If
that were true, Carr thought, it could be of some advantage to them if
they should find an opportunity to escape.
"What's going to happen to us?"
"There's a good chance he may just let us go," said Carr.
What was this? Roger could not believe his ears. "You really
think so?"
"No," said Carr.
"No??? Then why did you just say so!"
"I thought it might make you feel a little bit better."
Roger shrieked, "Sometimes I just can't understand you!"
"You're a primitive Earther; I wouldn't really expect you to."
And that shut Roger up. He wondered what would become of him.
Would he be shot, or tossed out the airlock? Or meerly tortured, until
Envile had gotten the secret of the Cube's location from him? Was
dissection really an option that was being seriously considered? Roger
did not relish the idea of being cut open.
Heavy footsteps crunched in the background. Envile had arrived.
His tall armored form stood before them. "Ready to talk?" he said.
"No!" said Carr. The fate of the galaxy was at stake. If Envile
got his hands on the Cube, untold quadrillions would suffer. He must
be firm.
Envile looked at Roger inquiringly. Roger recoiled, as if merely
being the target of Envile's attention was enough to terrify him beyond
belief. "Classic, it's on Classic!" said Roger, breaking down. He
started to sob a bit.
"Classic?"
"Roger, no!" said Carr.
"I mean Classick, Clashik, that was it!"
Envile stood tall. "Clashik!" he said. "Clashik!" he repeated.
Carr looked at Roger in silence. He had blown it. Envile would
get the Cube. The galaxy would be lost. And all because of this weak
Earther.
Envile looked at Roger. The enormity of what he had done suddenly
struck Roger.
And then Envile spoke. "You don't really expect me to believe
it's on Clashik, do you?"
"Aaggghhh!" Roger yelled.
"I haven't even started the torture yet," said Envile, quite
reasonably.
Roger was strapped to a chair in another room. Sinister looking
devices were attached by wires to leads taped onto Roger's forehead.
"I'm telling you the truth! It's Clashik, Clashik! Didn't I say
it right?"
"It couldn't be Clashik," said Envile. "At least, I don't think
so. I think you're lying. Anyway, we'll find out in a bit." He
fumbled with some dials. Roger heard a loud hum as the machine started
to gain power.
"Oh, I just want to go home!" cried Roger. "What.... what are
you doing?"
"Fear not. I am a gentle being," said Envile. "Despite my
reputation, I do not like to cause pain unnecessarily, unless there is
some amusement in it. I have found an even better source of persuasion
than pain."
He waited. Roger did not ask.
"Fear," said Envile. "Pure, unreasoning, fear." He flipped a
switch, and....
Roger was in sheer mental agony. Fear, waves and waves of it,
bombarded his thoughts at all levels. His hands scrabbled, though they
were tied down. Roger just wanted to move, to escape, to go anywhere,
to escape from that overriding feeling of discomfort.
"It's not real, of course; I'm merely feeding electrical impulses
directly into your mind." And then Envile chuckled. "Although, from
your perspective, it must seem quite real."
"Aaaagh!" Roger yelled. "Clashik, it's Clashik."
"Hmm," said Envile thoughtfully. "Maybe I need to turn up the
intensity." He adjusted a dial. "Of course, prolonged exposure at
high levels tends to burn out the brain."
"Noooooooooo!" And that was the last thing Roger remembered.
"-quite an impressive defensive mechanism. The Earthling renders
itself unconscious when exposed to the slightest sort of stress."
"Well, I could have told you, he's a tough one to crack," said
Carr. "I can see he didn't fool you with his Clashik ruse."
Roger opened his eyes. He was back in the cell. He closed his
eyes. He opened them again. He was still in the cell.
"I searched your ship, but haven't found anything," said Envile.
"Besides the fact that its stolen."
Roger was still groggy, but was rapidly waking up. "Stolen?
Didn't the federation give that to you, Carr?"
"Federation? Which federation?" said Envile, curious.
"What do you mean, which federation?" asked Roger. "Isn't there
only one galactic federation?"
"Ho ho ho ho!" roared Envile, much to Carr's dicscomfort. "What
story have you been telling this Earthling?"
"Ah..."
"You said you were from the galactic federation, sent on behalf of
all the civilized worlds~" said Roger.
Envile took another opportunity to chuckle. "Earthling, there
hasn't been one huge galactic federation since the time of Raylen and
the Polynsci!"
"No... federation?"
"Not with a capital 'F', if that's what you mean. Ther are any
number of smaller federations, empires, and meritocracies, too, for
that matter, but nothing like what you're thinking of!" roared Envile.
"Carr, you tricked me!" said Roger, shocked and dismayed.
"If you want to call him by his proper name, address him as
Ploglopus 314.9," said Envile. "I took a holoscan of you when you came
aboard. you're a wanted man, Ploglopus 314.9!"
"Carr?" said Roger.
Carr turned away for a moment. Then he faced Roger. "All right,"
he said. "I'm sorry Roger, but I wanted great power too."
"But you told me...."
"Earthman, if he really was from a galactic federation, don't you
think they would have sent more than one being, more than one ship?
Even the technolgoically retarded Crahsans put in a better showing!"
Envile laughed. "Ready for another session, Earthling?"
"Please don't call me that," said Roger weakly. He couldn't stand
to be tortured again. But he had nothing left to tell. He had told
the truth, only Envile would not believe him.
"Earthling! Earthling! Earthling!" Envile couldn't stop
laughing, and to Roger it was a cruel sound, grating in his ears.
"This time perhaps I can find something that will keep you awake!"
Roger cringed. He didn't know if he could live through another
session. Wasn't there anything that could save him? A robot guard
reached out to grab him.
"Wait," said Carr. "He's a tough nut, I told you you'll never
crack him."
"What alternative is there?" said Envile.
"Give me a few minutes with him," said Carr. "Perhaps I can
persuade him to give you the information you want."
Envile considered. It couldn't hurt. He stepped out of the
cell, reactivating the force field. "I will return. VERY shortly."
"How're you feeling?" said Carr, after Envile had left.
"What do you care?" said Roger, feeling very cross with him.
"Hey, I just got your next torture session delayed. If you're not
happy with that, I'm sure we can call him back quickly enough."
"Thanks, Plogoslop," said Roger sarcastically.
"You mispronounced it. I'd rather you still called me Carr."
"Why the number by your name? Are you a robot or something?"
Carr laughed softly. "No, that was my credit rating. But that's
not important now. Sooner or later Envile is going to liquidate both
of us unless he gets what he wants."
"But I already told him-"
Carr cut him short. "That cover story about Clashik obviously
didn't convince him. We may be forced to give him the map."
"The map?" said Roger. "What m-"
"Oh, you're right," said Carr immediately. He put a finger to his
lips. "This cell could be bugged."
For the next few minutes Roger stared at his companion curiously.
What map could he be talking about? Was Carr out of his mind? If
anyone had a license to act strangely, it was he, Roger, who had been
mercilessly tortured. Maybe Carr was hallucinating.
Several minutes later Envile entered their cell, flanked by robot
guards. "Where is it," he said simply. The voice was monotone, no
nonsense.
"What?" said Carr innocently.
Envile made an adjustment to his maser, turning it up to full
power. He pointed it at Roger. "You may have no regard for your own
life, but let's see what will happen if I torch the Earthling." He
aimed straight at Roger, finger starting to depress the trigger...
"Wait!" said Carr, stepping forward.
Envile stood in the firing position. "Where is it?"
"The map, the map is on our ship."
A frown. "My robots didn't find it."
Careful now, Carr thought. "They weren't looking precisely for a
map, now were they?"
"Where is it?"
"Take me to my ship, and I'll show you." This was the gamble.
Carr was using what little leverage he had to get them out of the cell.
"Tell me now."
But it wasn't working. "Gladly... ah, would you mind lowering
your weapon, just a bit. The way you're leaning on the trigger finger
there, I wouldn't want any accidents." Envile lowered the maser.
Roger started breathing again. Carr knew that Envile could raise the
weapon again in a fraction of a second, but psychologically he had
earned a breathing space.
Envile, of course, did not trust Carr at all. In fact he
suspected, quite correctly, that this was a ruse on Carr's part to
obtain his escape.
"This map... it leads to the Cube of Power?" he asked.
Finally, Roger, who had been watching this exchange with
interest, understood. There was no map. It was simply a clever escape
plan. "Yes, yes, it does," Roger chipped in supportingly.
Envile gazed at Roger. Roger shrunk. He felt that Envile could
see right through him, and Roger suddenly wished he had kept quiet.
"And I can give it to you, if you'll let us out of here," said
Carr, who, realizing the same thing, was trying to divert Envile's
attention again.
"Tell me where it is." Firm. Resolute. Envile was almost
certain this was a ruse. He would find out very quickly.
"Tell you where it is? Tell you where it is?" said Carr, thinking
very quickly. "I'd like nothing better. But it's locked in a safe, a
hidden safe."
"I think I'll manage to open it." Then, again, "Where is it!"
Envile was losing patience.
"Well, you might manage to open it, but if you don't do it right,
it'll self destruct," said Carr, smiling weakly. "Boobytrapped. Can't
be too careful with the map leading to the Cube of Power. Might fall
into the wrong hands, you know."
Roger thought this was quite ironic; Envile's were the wrong
hands!
"You will accompany me," said Envile, gesturing with his maser for
Carr to step forward.
"What about Roger?"
"He will stay."
This was NOT according to Carr's plan. Carr hadn't grown overly
sentimental about the Earthling. But Carr remembereed that the Sage
had hinted that Roger was necessary to solve the intervening trials of
the great Cube, so Carr's concern was not entirely samaritan.
"He must come!" Carr insisted.
"Why?"
"Because the safe can only be opened by the both of us." Carr was
thinking quickly. It was like a game; if he didn't answer immediately
enough, or if he didn't sound convincing, they were both dead.
Envile almost sighed in frustration. "Tell me the combinations."
"No combinations; thumb print." Carr was still thinking one step
ahead.
Envile growled. Now he was practically certain this was a ruse.
Still, the alien Carr spoke with confidence. There was always a chance
he was telling the truth....
"You both will go," said Envile. "But before we do, we will make
a wager."
"A bet?" said Roger, ears perking up.
"Yes," said Envile. "I will... bet that you both are lying, that
you are not leading me to a map, and are just trying to escape."
"And if you're right?" said Roger weakly.
"You will both be executed. Immediately."
"So what do we get if you're wrong?" asked Carr, trying to find a
silver lining.
It was good to be walking again. Carr's legs had gotten cramped
after hours of sitting around in that cell. Roger and Carr entered the
travel tube connecting both ships. They were flanked by two of
Envile's guard robots. Envile himself lumbered behind them, maser at
hand.
"Carr, what are we going to do?" Roger whispered into his ear.
"What was that?" said Envile.
"Good to be walking again, isn't it?" said Carr cheerfully.
They exited the docking tube and entered the Alconia. The
corridor branched to the left and the right.
"Which way?" came Envile's harsh voice.
Carr thought furiously. That was the problem with his plan; it
was still largely undeveloped. What to do next? Need to think. Time
to stall. Big stall.
"What is this?" said Carr, with mock outrage. He pointed to a
laser burn on the corridor wall. "Your robots have been making making
a mess of my ship! Why,-"
"Which way?" Envile demanded. His voice grated. His gun leveled.
Somehow, Carr didn't think he would ask again.
But that was all right; in the intervening seconds, Carr had
finally figured out a plan. "This way," he said, pointing left.
"Towards engineering." It was a slim chance, but they were out of
options.
They marched along. Roger wished they could go more slowly. He
wasn't eager for the revelation that was to come. Roger had little
confidence in Carr. He thought they were both doomed. But,
considering the past week, this wasn't the first time he had thought
so.
"Nice of you to accompany us personally, Envile," drawled Carr.
"But won't your crew be lonely?"
"All robots. Perfect obedience. Keep going," said Envile.
Carr didn't even risk a smile. All robot crew. Perfect.
They arrived at the entrance to engineering. Inside, the complex
instruement panels were humming with regularity. Power columns lined
the wall. The lighting was brighter in here, and a soft hum could be
heard from the power core.
"This is it," said Carr, stepping in. He couldn't resist a little
tease. "Right, Roger?"
"Yes? Oh, yes."
Envile entered, flanked by his robots. He was extremely
skeptical. "Show me," he said.
Carr paused. A droplet of sweat ran down his forehead.
Roger waited. If there was a plan, Carr had better do something
now.
"Well?" said Envile. He raised his maser, impatient.
"Envile," said Carr tentatively, "I lied to you."
Roger almost fainted. They were dead men.
Envile slowly started to aim the maser, as if he could miss, at
this range.
"Wait!" said Carr. "I lied to you about the safe. It was just a
ruse to get us out of our cells so we could escape. But the.. map...
really... is... here!" He said the words slowly, for effect.
Roger tried not to show his puzzlement. Was there really a map
after all?
"Where is it?" said Envile, for the last time.
"In there," said Carr, pointing to a sealed hatch. "Ion drive
chamber. Wrapped up in protective materials, of course." He tried to
sound casual, but in a forced kind of way. This was important.
"You'll probably want to send your robots in to pick it up."
"No." said Envile.
"Well," said Carr, "I'm not going in there, not unless you give me
time to put on a protective suit! Even when the ion drive isn't in
operation, exposure can be-"
"I will go," said Envile. "My armor will protect me."
"Oooh yes," said Carr innocently. "I hadn't thought of that."
Envile had made his first major mistake. Carr held his breath.
Depending on what Envile said next, they might, just might, have a
chance.
"Robots!" said Envile. "Keep them here." Each robot grabbed one
of the captives' arms. Envile undogged the hatch. "If there's nothing
there," he said, "when I return, there will be nothing here." He
entered the hatch, swinging it shut behind him.
That was it. They were saved.
"Carr!" Roger hissed. "Did you want the robots to go in?"
"Quiet!" said Carr. "Everything is going according to plan." A
plan, Carr didn't add, that was conceived of not five minutes ago.
"Alcon!" he yelled, raising his voice.
"Yes Carr?" said Alcon, over a speaker.
Roger had completely forgotten about Alcon. Evidently Envile had
not been aware that the ship's computer was self-aware.
"Lock ion hatch, activate ion engines now!" he yelled.
The ship's ion engines fired up. Flashes of light could be seen
from the chamber.
"Good thing the chamber is soundproof," remarked Carr. "He can't
contact his robots."
But he could. On the robotic communication band, a frequency
sputtered and came alive.
"Alcon, jam the airwaves!" Carr yelled.
"Robots!" The rest of Envile's command was cut off. The robots
stood rigid at attention.
"Carr, what's happened?" asked Roger,s training in the robot's
grip.
"It worked! We've trapped Envile in the ion chamber."
"Is he dead?"
"Probably," said Carr. But he didn't sound very sure.
"How come these robots still grabbing us didn't try to stop you?"
"That's the beauty of it. They can't do anything. They're not
even robots, mere autonmatons. They only act at Envile's command.
Even robots are programmed to act on their own in some circumstances.
These things are dummies. Roger, see if you can't reach in and take
the robot's blaster out of its holster."
Roger strained to reach the robot's blaster. The robot prevented
him from grabbing it. "Robot," said Roger, in a stern voice, "Your
master said to keep us here. Those were his only orders!" The robot
ceased fending off Roger, who obtained the blaster.
"What do I do with it?"
"Fire, you idiot!"
"Oh." Roger aimed at the head of the robot, who obligingly stood
very still while Roger blew its head off. The robot, collapsing to the
ground, dragged Roger along, but in moments Roger had freed himself.
Meanwhile Carr had liberated himself as well and was running for
the control room. Roger followed, shouting questions along the way.
In the control room Carr said, "Thanks, Alcon" as he collapsed
into the command chair. He put the ion chamber onto the viewscreen.
Bolts of light were dancing back and forth, but Envile was still alive,
gamely banging away on the hatch. Carr could see that Envile's maser
had been destroyed by an energy bolt.
"We're going to have to do something," said Carr. "Prepare to cut
drive."
"But Carr, won't he escape if you do that?"
Carr turned to Roger. "How would you like to be in there? Have
you no compassion, no pity? Sure, he's a professional sadist who
tortured you. Sure he would've killed us eventually. But should that
matter?"
"Oh... I'm sorry," said Roger. "I guessed I misjudged you, Carr."
Carr turned away, grinning from ear to ear. Such gullible
creatures, these Earthlings. "Cut drive, activate ion chamber
jettison." Carr believed that Envile was more dangerous in the ship
than outside of it. That was the real reason Carr had decided to
release him.
"Still alive, I see," said Carr, targeting the viewscreen imager
lock-on to the writhing figure in space. Envile was clearly still
active. Clad in his airtight armor, he was using his suit's rocket
jets to carry him back to the Alconia. "Alcon, lock lasers on Envile.
Maximum power, point blank range."
"Carr!" said Roger. "I thought-"
"On the other hand, we could just let him board us again. I'm
sure he would make excellent companionship," Carr mused, studying his
nails.
"Laser targeted," Alcon reported. Carr looked inquiringly at
Roger, giving a little smile.
"Oh, go ahead, you'll just do what you want anyway," fumed Roger.
Carr stared at him in shock and amazement. "Earthman."
"Yes?"
"You're learning." Carr depressed the firing stud. A massive
beam of energy struck Envile head on. He never saw it coming.
"Cancel one pest." Carr seemed terribly pleased with himself.
And pleased he should have been; Envile was one of the most dangerous
beings in the galaxy. Carr knew that his death would strike a strong
blow of fear into the hearts of marauders everywhere. Even their
mightiest warrior hadn't proven invulnerable.
"He's gone? Envile is finished?" said Roger.
"You saw it here first," drawled Carr. "Alcon, one more thing.
Lock all lasers and missiles on Envile's battlecruiser. Same thing,
point blank range, fire when ready."
Rays of lethal light cut into the battlecrusier. A few seconds
later, a salvo of missiles smashed against the battlecruiser's hull.
"Pity we couldn't take it for ourselves," said Carr, watching the
explosions on the screen. "But the robots are programmed only to obey
Envile, and we don't have time to reprogram them all."
"But why are you destroying it?"
"It's a powerful tool. If it got into the wrong hands... well,
you know."
"Just like the Cube of Power, Ploglopus?" said Roger. He hadn't
forgotten Carr's earlier deception.
"Yes, yes, I lied to you," said Carr. "What's the big deal?"
"I thought you were from a noble galactic federation-"
"Ain't nothing noble about it," said Carr. "Everyone wants power,
and someone's bound to find the Cube again some day. Now, you've seen
what I've done for you. I've saved your life countless times in the
past few days. Who would you rather have the Cube, Envile, or me?"
Roger felt confused. "You're twisting it around. You just saved
me because you think I'm still needed to get the Cube."
"No, if I had the Cube, I'd still save you," said Carr, giving a
pure smile.
"Fortunately for you this is a proposition that cannot be tested
in the foreseeable future," grumbled Roger.
"Such is life. Alcon, drag up every scrap of information you have
on Clashik!" Now that they had again eluded danger, Carr's mind was
back on its one track: acquisition of the Cube of Power.
"Why don't you let me go?" said Roger desperately. "Can't you see
that the computer must be wrong? I have no useful skills."
"You got that right," murmurred Carr. Then, more loudly, "Roger,
Roger, the whole universe is still looking for you. Until someone
finds that Cube you won't be safe. I have to admit, I'm just as
puzzled as you are as to why you were picked. But the computer seemed
to hint that you were necessary to recovering it. Look on the bright
side: you're safe and sound among friends. We'll go to Clashik, pick
up the Cube, and have you dropped back to Earth in no time. How does
that sound?"
"Positively depressing," groused Roger.
"Shh! I'm reading," said Carr, staring at the incoming
information on the screen. "'Planet Clashik, location blah blah
blah... end information' Alcon! This can't be all! Name, spatial
coordinates, that's it? That's all we have on it?"
"That's all that is firmly known about Clashik," said Alcon.
Carr wasn't giving up that easily. He knew how to deal with
computers. "Cite sources of information."
"Survivors of Clashik expeditions."
Survivors? Carr had expected some book or expert reference.
Survivors? That implied people who didn't. Wait. One thing at a time.
"Alcon, how many expeditions went to Clashik?"
"Seven recorded, plus unknown number of other landings."
"How many of these expeditions returned intact to report their
findings?"
"Zero."
Roger was sitting silently, making a face. He didn't particularly
like any of this.
Carr continued. "Cite brief histories of recorded expeditions."
The computer related the stories of the seven ill fated
expeditions. All were sent to Clashik from the civilized core wolds,
remants of the great federation that had existed during the time of
Raylen and the polynsci. The first expedition had consisted of a
preliminary survey team, well equipped to explore that strange new
world. There was a routine report when they made orbit, and then they
were never heard from again.
The second expedition, seven years later, spotted the wreckage of
the first expedition on the planet surface. Evidently all the first
expedition ships had crashed upon landing. Simultaneously. The second
expedition went in to explore further, and they were never heard from
again either.
The third and forth expeditions were smart enough to tackle
Clashik at the same time. The third team went down to the planet
surface, while the forth team remained in orbit, able to quickly
retreat if the third expedition got clobbered.
No one ever found out what happened to those two expeditions
either.
After that came the first of the great galactic recessions, and
world governments weren't too keen on spending precious tax revenue on
pie in the sky expeditions that could be more usefully doled out as
patronage back home. The fact that the expeditions seemed doomed to
fail did not further endear the politicians to them.
But recessions, even great galactic ones, eventually end, and this
one was no exception. During a period of modest recovery people
started to wonder about the "Clashik mystery" again, notably the
spaceship insurers who had still not financially recovered from the
first four expeditions. So grand speeches were given, rockets were
launched, and a fifth expedition, heralded as the last, was officially
underway. Only a few at the time were wise enough to realize that if
this was really to be the last expedition, the civilized worlds would
simply have to stop launching the damn things.
When the fifth expedition was lost there was less of an uproar,
partially because of a loss of already fickle galactic interest in the
subject but mostly because, in a stunning innovation, all the spaceship
insurers had been put aboard the fifth attempt.
During a more bellicose time in galactic history, when even the
populations of the civilized core worlds were becoming warlike,
another expedition was sent out. But expedition was hardly the right
word for it. The sixth expedition was actually a strong spacefleet of
ships going to bombard Clashik from orbit, hoping to subdue that
miserable planet once and for all.
But this time a few of the smaller ships managed to get away, and
some sort of semi-coherent story emerged.
Apparently the reason that all the previous expeditions had
crashed on Clashik was because some thing, some thing even more
intangible than an attraction beam, had pulled them down to the planet
surface, causing the sixth expedition to crash.
After the failure of the sixth expedition, the civilized worlds,
uinderstandably, weren't very interested in sending any more probes to
Clashik. In fact, it wasn't until less than a year ago before the last
known expedition, the seventh one, arrived there. Like the attacking
force of the sixth expedition, this force had not technically headed to
Clashik to explore; but, it crashed into Clashik, so the historians
conveniently classified it as an expedition.
The composition of the seventh expedition was the remnants of a
spacefleet under the command of Captain Croft.
"Captain Croft!" said Carr, surprised. Captain Croft was the man
who had defeated the Rogue space fleet; the man who had rallied the
forces at Nalragen, and the commander of the ship that had knocked out
the Super Raider Antares. In a word, he was one of the finest military
space tacticians in the civilized worlds.
"Who?" said Roger.
"Captain Croft! Merely the greatest space commander in the fleet!
He used to run rings around the Milshans! I think even Envile was a
little afraid of him. I always wondered what happened to Captain
Croft," Carr mused.
Alcon went on to inform Carr that Croft had been engaged in battle
with the terrible marauders. Rear Admiral Malan, commander of the
fleet, had unwittingly led the fleet into an ambush a short distance
from Omicron Zeta II, a binary star system. When the flagship was lost
in the heat of battle, command of the fleet fell upon Croft. He
executed a successful diversionary counterattack with several of his
remaining ships, allowing the remainder of his crippled fleet to
escape.
But the marauders were present in overwhelming numbers, and Croft
and the remnants of his fleet were forced to flee. In that isolated
region of space they were too far away to link up with other allied
fleets; and any assistance rendered would have been too late by days.
Captain Croft checked the compscan. Where to go, where to run?
There were no nearby nebula to hide in, no asteriods to provide a
cover... then he noticed it. Clashik was only two days flight away at
maximum speed. His officers were aghast when Croft revealed his plan;
they knew of the earlier expeditions to Clashik, and did not wish to
suffer a similar fate.
But while Croft's maneuver had bought them some distance from the
marauder fleet, Croft, forced to maintain the speed of his most damaged
ship, would not be able to outrun the marauders. He set his course.
Croft's fleet closed on Clashik. He had no desire to approach the
planet, but he knew that he had to get as close as possible to lure the
marauder fleet. Luckily the marauders were not familiar with the
significance of Clashik, and they followed, headstrong, at top speed,
in a tight, densely packed formation.
Croft's ships skimmed across the northern poles of Clashik. Dense
clouds obscured their view of the planet surface. The bridge crew was
silent. Any moment now, they could expect to be wrenched out of orbit,
dragged to a fiery burnup in the atmosphere, or, if they were lucky,
they might be fortunate enough to crash on the ground.
And then it happened. The marauder fleet, approaching the far
side of Clashik, was pulled in. Every ship, from cruiser to corvette.
Sucked into the planet's atmosphere, never to be seen or heard from
again.
Croft's crew had given a cheer as their ship, now passing Clashik,
started to accelerate and speed away. But then there was a gigantic
tug, and his ship was pulled into the planet.
The rest of his fleet escaped safetly; they were ahead of Croft's
ship, and thus had passed away from Clashik before Croft's ship.
Croft, realizing that his ship was the most battle ready, had insisted
on travelling as the fleet's rearguard to defend against the pursuing
marauders.
The other ships heard the cries of terror over the radio from
Croft's ship; but they dared not go back, not even in orbit, to see if
anyone had survived. But then, when they were almost beyond the
Clashik solar system, and a relief fleet was only a day away, they
received a most unexpected transmission from Clashik. "-is Captain
Croft. Repeat, do not approach Clashik... crashing effect... few
svivors... nfg time zones..." and then the transmission died, and that
was the last that was heard of Captain Croft. Captain Croft had saved
his fleet, only to be conquered by the forces of Clashik. No further
missions went to Clashik after that event, but the civilized worlds
were awash in rumors for months as to the fate of Captain Croft.
"What does it all mean, Carr?" asked Roger, after Alcon had
finished.
"It means we're heading into a death trap," he replied.
"Carr, have you ever considered-"
"Going back?" he said, sensing cowardice in his Earthling
companion. "No. Consider this, Roger. Which would you rather face,
the unkown, sinister as it may seem, or certain torture and demise,
which is what will happen to both of us if any of our pursuers get
their grubby little hands on us?"
Roger was silent for a long time. Then he said, "What do you
think that message meant?"
"I don't know. That bit about time zones sounded interesting."
"Maybe he means time zones like we have on Earth," said Roger.
Carr was silent.
"And I had another thought," said Roger.
"Two in one day?"
Roger ignored that. Something had been knawing at him, ever since
they had left Arashum. "The Sage said there were trials needed to
obtain the Cube of Power. I presume they are nasty things that I won't
like at all. But putting that aside, how many are there?"
"Let me think," Carr paused, recalling the events on Arashum. "I
think five." He stood up and opened a control panel. All the
expeditions were pulled down to the planet, hm? Well, maybe he could
do something to improve the odds a little.
"That's what I thought," said Roger. "It said five, and then it
said one for each facet."
Carr reached into the wiring, started looking around. The
coupling circuitry should be... there, under the main mounting. "So?"
he said, not really paying attention.
"A cube has six facets."
Carr manipulated a circuit. It sputtered a short spark. Carr
smiled. This was the right one.
"Well, doesn't it?" said Roger, feeling unconfortable.
"We'll count them when we reach Clashik. Listen, can you pass me
the gyromanipulator," he said, indicating some tools on the control
board.
"Uh..."
Carr groped around for it. "Never mind."
"Attenion: Clashik orbit imminent. Imminent." said Alcon.
Time was running short... there! Carr finished his adjustments.
Standing up, he said, "Finished. I suggest you buckle down securely,
as we may be in for a rather rapid descent."
"You mean we're going to crash," Roger interpreted. "Isn't there
any other way of getting down to this planet?"
"I think the elevator's out of service," said Carr sarcastically.
"But won't we crash? And die?" Roger blinked; had he missed
something? Why wouldn't that irritating alien ever explain what was
happening?
Suddenly, the ship was gripped by a tremendous force, wrenching it
out of orbit.
"Carr?"
Alarm claxons sounded. Warning indicators surged. Carr shut off
the claxons, and manned the instrument panel he had been adjusting.
Roger strapped himself into a chair.
"We're going to die!" Roger wailed.
"You keep saying that," Carr commented. He kept his hands poised
over a button. "Alcon, report when distance to ground is five zero."
The ship buckled as it accelerated towards the planet. On the
viewscreen the surface of the planet surged up towards them.
"Distance 270," said Alcon. The ship bucketed as it crashed
through the atmosphere.
"What are you doing?" yelled Roger.
"I've tied all our reserve thrust into the activator," said Carr,
his finger poised over the button.
"Distance 160," Alcon reported. The outer hull started to glow.
The ship's engines were already in full reverse, but their descent was
scarcely slowed.
"Will it save us?" said Roger, a little bit relieved that Carr had
at last responded to the crisis.
Carr shrugged. Roger rolled his eyes, moaning a bit. Carr didn't
care about his own life, or about anything. Roger moaned again,
wishing he were back home. It wouldn't be the last time.
Alcon reported "Distance Five Z-" but before the word zero was
sounded out Carr had activated the reserve thrust, and the ship
creaked. Roger felt some of the descent pressure easing. The planet
already filled the viewscreen, but the Alconia was slowing down.
Finally, just a few hundred feet from the planet surface, the rate of
descent was slowed to a crawl. The ship stopped, hovering, just over
200 feet above the planet surface.
Carr smirked triumphantly. "Did it! Aren't I great?"
Suddenly, as if Clashik itself was displeased by Carr's smugness,
a newer more powerful force gripped the ship, plunging it the rest of
the short distance to the planet surface.
"What happened?" Roger asked, bewildered, in the last few seconds.
"Pressure from Clashik increased twenty four fold," Alcon
reported. "Impact in-"
The ship crashed.
Chapter 4
Arrival
"Are we dead?" Roger asked, starting into the darkness.
One of the many reasons that Roger got on Carr's nerves was
because Roger was so incredibly dense, even for an Earthling.
Earthlings, being isolated to their own little planet, could be
expected to be ignorant of the universe. But they were stupid, too.
"Yes, we're dead," said Carr, already somewhat annoyed at having
the ship crash.
"We are? Oh no!" Roger cried. He started to weep silently.
Carr groped for and activated the emergency lighting. Weak red
lights flickered, making the outlines of the control room visible.
"What a mess!" he said, staring at the burnt out consoles.
Roger looked around, visibly shaken. "We're not dead?"
"Not yet." Carr inspected the control room, determining that all
the instrumentation was shot. He quickly concluded the ship would
never fly again. "Well, it looks like we're permanent guests of
Clashik."
"Forever?" Roger didn't like this. He knew that the other
expeditions had been swallowed up by the powers of Clashik, never to
return.
"And ever," said Carr cheerfully, breaking into a smile.
Roger was irritated. Why did Carr act like he was pleased? "And
what about your ship's computer?"
"Alcon?" said Carr, the smile fading. There was no answer.
"It's just the two of us, then," said Roger.
"I've had days that began on better thoughts," said Carr. But he
wasn't too unhappy; they were on Clashik. They had survived. It was
possible, just possible, that he, Carr, would possess the Cube of
Power. And when he did, all the galaxy would be open to him. He could
do anything, know anything, go anywhere, experience anything....
"What do we do now?"
Carr snapped out of his thoughts. He surveyed the control room.
"Just fly out of here, I suppose."
Roger felt a glimmer of hope. "But you just said that we were
stuck here!"
"Roger, can't you tell when I'm being ironic or sarcastic or just
a little bit bitter?" The Earthling was so naive. He took everything
at face value.
"It's hard to tell with strange aliens."
"What about the familiar ones?" Carr chipped in idly, as he
checked his blaster. Good. The powerpack was at full strength.
Reaching into a compartment, he tossed something to Roger. "Take
this."
'This' turned out to be an emergency kit. Carr and Roger moved
through the wrecked corridors of the Alconia. Many of the lower
corridors had been squashed, from ceiling to floor, like putty, and
were untraversable. Roger realized how lucky they were to have
survived. Carr realized that luck had nothing to do with it; his
emergency thruster tie in had made the difference, breaking at least
part of their descent.
They tried to make their way to the other end of the ship, but
were stopped by rubble and debris. "I was hoping the lifeboat would be
intact," Carr sighed. "It looks like we're permanent pedestrians.
Let's start walking." He started down to the airlock.
"Walking? To where?" Roger wanted to know.,
"Thataway," said Carr patiently, pointing to the airlock. He
operated the controls manually. "ready?" he asked.
"How do we know the air isn't poisonous? Shouldn't we have
spacesuits or something?"
"If the air is deadly, we're not going to survive much longer
anyhow. Besides, there was that one transmission from the planet."
"Which one?"
"You know, the one from the seventh expedition." And if Captain
Croft and his men survived, Carr thought, the environment couldn't be
too hostile.
Roger was trying to sort out from memory just what was the seventh
expedition. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he did not
take notice when the airlock grinded open. Bright sunlight streamed
in. And air. Dry, but definitely breathable air.
"Ladies and children first," Carr smiled, gesturing forwards.
"Me?" said Roger. "I'm not going out there!"
Carr sighed, walked outside. Roger stood alone in the ship. The
corridor creaked as the wreck slightly shifted position. "Wait!" he
cried, running after Carr.
Outside Roger shaded his eyes from the sun. Squinting, he saw
they were in a lifeless, barren desert. Well, almost barren.
Wreckages of alien ships dotted the landscape. Roger was shocked.
Why, there were dozens of wrecks here!
"What a mess," said Carr. "Well, at least we know one thing."
"What?" said Roger, expecting some sort of clever insight.
"No one's picked up the garbage in a long time," said Carr,
wrinkling his nose.
"Be serious for once in your life!" Roger shouted. "What caused
this?"
Carr looked left, looked right. Standing very close to Roger, he
whispered, "Can you keep a secret?"
"It's hardly likely there's anyone around here to tell," said
Roger. "So, what did it?"
"Can you say, 'Cube of Power'?" Carr wanted to know.
The Cube of Power! Some maniac must be in possession of the Cube.
That explained the downed ships. But Roger was by no means anxious to
meet up with the possessor. "Are you still deadset on finding this
Cube thing?"
Carr took a more serious tone. He would need the Earther's
cooperation. "Look around you, Roger," he said, in a manipulative way.
"Do you see any other way of getting of this planet?"
"How would the Cube get us off this planet, assuming it's on this
planet and also assuming we find it and the owner doesn't mind?"
"Your lack of insight never ceases to amaze me," marvelled Carr.
He had been to Earth before, of course, and had realized how primitive
it had been, but he, Carr, had to be stuck with a dense one, even by
Earth standards. "Haven't you been listening to anything that's been
going on? With the Cube of Power you could comand a spaceship into
existence! Or, better yet, simply command yourself to be transported
home, instantly!"
Roger now realized that he needed to find the Cube, if only to get
home. But he was still worried by those trials. What sort of trials
were these to be? Legal trials? Would they have to present a case
before the judge? Would they be put on trial? Or would it be a trial
of physical strength? Or an I.Q. test? The possibilities were
unlimited. Roger didn't see how he could pass any of these tests, and
it seemed to him that he would be stuck on this planet forever. Or
worse.
"Shall we go?" said Carr, waiting impatiently. A bellow of
superheated wind carried a cloud of dust by them. Roger squinted,
trying to keep the light and sand out of his eyes.
"Sorry, I left the sunglasses on the ship," said Carr sarcasticly.
"Where are we going to go?" shouted Roger, feeling quite cross.
Carr fell into one of his crazy moods. He closed his eyes and
spun about several times, with a finger pointed outwards. Popping open
his eyes, he grinned. "That way!" he pointed.
Roger groaned.
They walked for some time. Roger got sand in his shirt, sand in
his shoes, and sand in his socks. Roger's feet were sand. But his
sore feet were only a small part of his misery. The heat was pounding
down on him. His head felt hot. And the back of his neck felt like a
grill. Just put some bacon and eggs on it, he thought, and they would
sizzle in minutes. He tried to keep his head up, but the winds,
carrying the sand into his face, made that difficult.
Roger's entire body felt dry. His lips were parched. After a
while, walking became a chore. He only found the strength to keep
going because of Carr. Carr hadn't threatened him; no, he simply did
not want to be left alone in this empty wide desert. Carr, in a way,
was little more than a kidnapper; but even he was welcome company, here
alone in this barren desert.
They walked many miles, although the only signs of progress was
the disappearance of the spaceship graveyard behind them. After that
there was nothing but featureless flat desert. They tried to go in one
straight direction, and to some extent they succeeded, but they often
had to shift their footing in the deep sand, forcing them to subtly
change their headings from time to time.
Roger wondered how Carr was taking the heat. It must be tough on
him too. But everytime they matched glances all Roger would get was
that maniacal smile. He wondered how Carr could be happy.
Carr, of course, was not happy. The desert had driven away all
thoughts of daydreaming about the Cube of Power. He was just as dry
and wretched as Roger was. In fact, the only morsel of pleasure he got
was from watching Roger's exasperated expressions when Carr flashed him
his mischievious smiles.
After plodding along the dunes for several hours, the sun dipped,
and dropped below the horizon. Despite Roger's not inconsiderable fear
of the dark, he was grateful for the cooler temperatures.
As the sun disappeared, they noticed hills in the distance.
"Hills, Carr, hills!" said Roger, delirious with pleasure to reach the
edge of the desert.
"Umm," said Carr, who would've preferred to see a spaceport. But
ships only came to Clashik. They never left.
"We'd better camp here for the night. It's going to be dark soon."
"But Carr, the hills!"
Carr sighed. He gripped Roger by the shoulder. "Roger, look at
those hills," he commanded, pointing.
Roger did. Carr asked, "Do you see any feet?"
"Feet?" said Roger, confused.
"Toes. Wrigglers," said Carr, impatiently. How could the Earther
fail to understand? Carr's English was impeccable.
"No," said Roger, still confused.
"Then they're not going to walk away, now are they?" said Carr.
"I... suppose not," admitted Roger.
"Then they'll still be there tomorrow!" said Carr.
And that settled that.
Roger and Carr sat down in the sand, and wolfed down the emergency
rations that Carr had forced Roger to carry. "Pink gummy cubes" was
the best way Roger could describe them. "This is space food?" Roger
asked. There was no taste to them, at least at first; but when Roger
swallowed his, he felt a pungent aftertaste. It reminded him of bitter
celery, only the sensation was much more intense.
Carr chewed on his ration. It was hard, and had the texture of
cardboard shavings.
"This," he said definitively, "is shit."
The sun had long past out of sight, and the night was pitch black
when they decided to go to sleep. Carr thought they should hold a
rotating watch; Clashik had no moons, but they could still see a bit in
the darkness.
"I'll go first, I'm not sleepy," said Roger.
Carr agreed. "Wake me when you get tired." He was tired, and
whatever misgivings he had were assuaged by fatigue. He lay down and
closed his eyes. The grainy desert sands pressed against his back, but
Carr was too tired to care.
"Carr?" said Roger. A thought had occurred to him.
"Umm?"
"If I'm on guard, aren't you going to give me your blaster?" Roger
abhored violence; and yet he felt that it would only be prudent to have
some protection.
"No," said Carr.
A slight pause.
"Why not?"
A longer pause. Roger thought Carr had fallen asleep.
"Carr?"
"It's very complicated. You might hurt yourself." Or me, Carr
thought. He didn't suspect malice, or treachery, on the part of the
Earthling. No, what Carr feared was much simpler. Bad aim.
The night was silent. Too silent for Roger. He whistled a little
bit, almost silently. He was off key. No one in the vast desert
expanse complained.
Roger missed home. He missed his home, he missed his bookkeeping
job, he missed New Jersey. He had led such a quiet, simple life, never
having to worry about the fate of the galaxy, or whether he would be
alive a minute later... it was such an easier life. Roger had not
quite decided whether Carr was a kidnapper or a friend. Apparently if
Carr hadn't arrived he would've been eaten by the Milshans. And,
underneath the taunts, Carr wasn't such a bad fellow, even if he was
just using Roger to get the Cube.
Roger felt himself dropping off. He jerked himself awake. Wasn't
there something he was supposed to do before he went to sleep? He
tried vainly to remember....
Ug, ug.
Carr blinked. He stirred. Shading his forehead, he opened his
eyes. He and Roger were surrounded by a bunch of savages.
Carr immediately closed his eyes, opening them again. They were
still there. They were large wild grunting people, looking very dirty
and disheaveled. They were clad in ragged bits of fur. They stunk,
too.
Most ominously, several of them carried clubs, with the business
ends pointed at Carr and Roger.
"Ug ug ug ug!" they said accusingly. The savages had a strong
sense of territority, and, from their perspective, quite understandably
felt that Roger and Carr were tresspassing.
"Carr!" Roger cried, suddenly waking up. They both stood up, back
to back, as the savages closed in, wielding their clubs. Now that the
savages had the transgressors surrounded, they would dispense justice.
But chances are that Carr and Roger wouldn't like the verdict.
"Thanks for keeping watch, buddy," said Carr.
The circle closed around them.
"Carr, do something!" cried Roger desperately. "If not for me,
think about yourself!"
That struck a resonant cord in Carr. He moved to action.
"Stop!" cried Carr, raising his voice as he held his hand up in
the universal 'come to a complete halt' gesture.
"Ug ug ug!" they cried, unimpressed, tightening the circle. One
of them swung their clubs experimentally to test its reach. It swung
in an arc only inches from Roger, who jumped back, bumping into Carr.
"We're doomed!" Roger cried.
"Ug ug ug ug!" they cried, readying their weapons for the kill.
"They're talkative," Carr noted, "But we're obviously not speaking
the same language. Luckily I brought a translator."
Roger could not turn to look to see what this wonderful futuristic
device was. In a matter of seconds he was going to be clubbed by the
savages. They raised their weapons-
And Carr drew his blaster, smooth as a hawk, and blasted them
down.
A blaster is not a maser, but it will do short work on a bunch of
unarmored savages. The savages, seeing seven of their number decimated
in the space of ten seconds, beat a hasty retreat. Carr fired on the
stragglers, honing his accuracy as well as encouraging their egress.
"There," said Carr, examining the tip of his blaster. It was
warm. "I was certain we could reach some sort of accomodation." He
looked around. "Hey, they've stolen the emergency pack! Why didn't
you hold on to it?"
Roger sputtered.
"Great, just great," said Carr. "Now we have no food!"
"Carr, our lives were almost extinguished!" said Roger.
"Aren't you getting used to that by now?" Carr asked. "Besides,
if you had kept a watch, or woken me, this wouldn't have happened."
"You're right," Roger sighed. "It's all my fault."
Carr did not disagree.
"What do we do now? Go back to the ship for more?"
"Do you know where the ship is?" countered Carr.
Roger looked around. The hills were that way, so they must have
come from...
"A specific direction," said Carr.
"Well, let's just follow our footprints...."
"What footprints?"
Sure enough, their footprints in the desert were gone. The desert
wind had eradicated their tracks.
"We'll starve to death!" Roger had finally grasped the situation.
"I've always wanted to see the hills before I die," Carr
commented. They started walking. Carr saw the savages fleeing towards
the hills. The savages must have food. Blaster willing, Carr hoped to
sample the local cuisine.
Their journey continued. After a few hours, the heat, and even
the sun, no longer bothered Roger. He was feeling too hungry for that.
They reached the base of the hills. Roger thought about asking for a
lunch break, but realized that there wasn't anything to break for.
Nothing in their surroundings looked the least bit edible, unless one
counted a few shrubs growing here and there.
They spied dirt paths winding up into the hills. "I wonder who
made these paths?" Roger asked.
"I wonder who connected your brain?" Carr grumbled.
The paths narrowed up into rocky areas. At some points they had
to literally climb around boulders. Towards dusk they stopped at a
group of boulders just off the path.
Now Carr was faced with a dilemma. He couldn't stay awake all
night. If he gave Roger the first watch, Roger would forget to wake
him. His best bet, Carr figured, was to take the first watch himself.
Sitting in the dark, listening to Roger softly snoring, Carr was
actually content. He was unequipped, virtually alone, and starvation
was not too far over the horizon. But he had made it! He was on
Clashik! And somewhere here was the Cube of Power! Of all the
adventures Carr had ever had, this was the most important. Carr had
spent his lifetime recovering treasures of lost civilizations, but they
were nothing, nothing compared to the Cube of Power.
Carr looked at Roger. Somehow, the Earthling was the key. Carr
had tried for days to discern what was special about Roger. Again and
again, he had come up with the same answer. Nothing. Roger was so
bereft of skills, of intellect, of basic common sense... he was such an
idiot, even for a Earther.
But as time went by, Carr grew more and more tired. They had been
hiking for quite some time and the cumulative effect was quite
fatiguing. Finally, after he caught himself almost nodding off, Carr
knew he had no choice. He shook Roger.
"Hmm?" said Roger.
"Wake up, it's your watch," said Carr.
"Ummm," said Roger.
"Are you awake?" said Carr sharply.
"Umm... yeah, sure," said Roger.
Carr leaned back. As soon as he closed his eyes, he was out.
Roger stirred. Just what was it Carr had been asking? Well, if
it was important, he could find out in the morning. He yawned, and
went back to sleep.
Ug ug ug!
Roger blinked. It was morning again. In a cruel replay of the
morning before they were surrounded by the savages. Evidently they
were early risers.
Carr stirred. Suddenly, quickly becoming aware, he reached for
his blaster.
But the aliens were quicker. One of the swung his club, neatly
connecting with Carr's head. Carr fell to the ground.
Ug ug ug. The savages closed in on Roger.
"No need to club me," said Roger, raising his hands. "I'm not
dangerous." As they grabbed him another thought occurred. "Say, you
don't eat people, do you?"
The savages lived in a cave a short distance away. It was a
spartan dwelling, but it was piled with all sorts of junk. Pieces of
machinery, bits of wiring, a helmet from a spacesuit, even a piece of a
ship's hull was scattered all over the cave. The savages, knowing a
good thing when they saw it, took to raiding the alien expeditions that
crashed on Clashik.
Unfortunately, the savages did not make good use of their stolen
wares. They, of course, did not understand the bits of metal and
machinery that they looted from the alien ships; but merely possessing
pieces of the shiny metals made for excellent symbols of status in the
tribe. Some savages simply had small pieces of badly crushed metal
components; the more important ones possessed intact artifacts. A
rather important subchief possessed over forty-eight levers and buttons
he had taken from various crashed vessels. He lined them proudly in
this part of the cave, and if any other savages would dare touch them,
he would shout them off with a loud 'Ug'!
Currently, the chief of the tribe had seventy three feet of copper
wiring to his name, a feat that none of the other savages had yet
managed to top.
When the strangers were brought into the cave there was a great
deal of ug-ging and shrieks. Captives were a special treat, for few
survived the crashes, but those who did and were caught were always
brought to the cave, although their life expectency tended to dip
rather sharply after that.
The cave wasn't such a bad place, Roger thought, although he
didn't think much of the clientel. It was dirty, of course, filled
with years of dirt and accumulation of rubbish. And the rocky
projections from the wall that he leaned against were hurting his back,
forcing him to arch foward. Roger sat hunched like that in the back of
the cave, near the prone form of Carr. They were guarded by two of the
hulking primitives. The dull looking savages appeared to be bored.
They were big looming creatures, like the others, covered with fur
skins and dirt.
Roger spied a fire in the cave. Cooking over it were several
crackling strips of meat. Roger, who was by now ravenous, wondered
when the prisoners were fed. On second thought, he didn't want to
know. Prisoners here might not be fed, Roger worried.
They might be served.
Roger tried to wake Carr, but Carr didn't stir. Roger stared at
the guards. They stared at him. No productive interaction there.
The food was taken off the spit. It was doled out in pieces to
several of the savages. Roger wondered who would get the larger
pieces. He noticed two savages several feet in front of him arguing
over a portion. One had a bony head, which was almost pointed on top.
The other had a big belly, which shook every time he moved.
"Ug, ug!" Boney Head proclaimed.
"Ug ug ug!" Jelly Belly responded, pawing for the food.
"Clug!" went Bony Head's club, landing on the other's head.
"Ug!" said Jelly Belly one, going down.
Bony Head grabbed the meat. Roger could hear the sounds of loud
lip smacking and chomping. Roger's stomache growled.
"Hey, how come we don't get some?" asked Roger, his hunger, for
the moment overcoming his fear.
One of his two guards turned to face him. "Ug?" it said, almost
curiously.
"Food! And a bit of drink, while you're at it," said Roger,
doubtful that the alien would understand him. He gestured, pointing
towards his open mouth, and then rubbing his stomach in a
counterclockwise motion while making "yum yum" sounds.
"Ug?" asked the creature again. It seemed to Roger that the
creature almost had a look of curiousity on its face.
"Yes, by all means, ug!" said Roger, exasperated.
"Ug ug ug," said the creature, shaking its head in a negative way.
Roger looked at the other savages. They had quickly consumed
their food. He sighed. There was nothing left.
Wait! In the corner, there, wasn't that the aluminum bag that had
contained their supplies?
Trying to restraining his excitement, Roger said, "The pack! The
emergency pack!"
"Ug?" said the talkative one.
"That shiny thing, in the corner, look!"
"Ug?" repeated the savage with mild curiousity.
"Look," he said, pointing at the bag.
The savage stared in the direction he was pointing. Remarkably,
he seem to understand. He reached over and grabbed the bag.
"Give me the bag," Roger said, motioning with his hands.
Surprisingly, the creature did so. "Ug!"
"Thank you," said Roger soothingly, as the creature eyed him
speculatively.
He rummaged through the bag. It was almost empty! They must have
spilled its contents all over the desert. Desperately he reached into
the bottom and found a few food squares left.
"Ug!" said the creature. He seemed to be expecting something.
"Well, all right," said Roger. To reward the savage he handed the
creature a food square, even though he had precious few left for
himself.
"Ug." commented the creature, staring at the square. To Roger the
creature looked puzzled.
"You eat it!" said Roger, mimicking the act of putting one in his
mouth. He was starting to unwrap his when he noticed the creature
swallowing its square.
"No! You're supposed to unwrap it first!"
"Ug!" burped the savage contently.
"Oh, never mind." Roger chewed on his square. "Now what do I
call you? Ug? Is Ug a good name?"
"Ug," said the creature.
"That settles it, then," said Roger. "Now if only Carr were
awake!"
Carr sat up, right on cue. "Is it time for dinner already?"
"Carr! You're all right!"
"Well, I think so," he said , feeling the bump on his head.
"Where are we?"
"Captured by the savages." Roger couldn't see any way to put it
gently.
"Food!" said Carr excitedly. The news evidently did not affect
his appetite. He chewed slowly for several minutes.
"It seems like they've done in the survivors of the other
expeditions," said Roger.
"Not necessarily," said Carr. "I can't see Captain Croft, for
example, falling prey to a bunch of savages."
Ug, the friendly savage, stirred. That name meant something to
him. In a low voice, under his breath, he mumbled, "Croft." But Roger
and Carr were not paying attention.
"But we don't have Captain Croft with us!" cried Roger. "And what
are we going to do?"
"Well, we could just leave," said Carr.
"Just like that?" What was Carr talking about? They were
prisoners, weren't they?
"Why not?" said Carr, drawing his blaster. The aliens had not
been intelligent enough to disarm him. Roger gave a low whistle; he
had been so sure that the savages had disarmed them, he hadn't bothered
to look for it.
Ug sensed that something was happening. He moved to the other end
of the cave, disappearing in the winding tunnel. And their remaining
guard had fallen asleep!
"Maybe he went to warn them," said Roger.
"Or maybe he's allowing us to escape," said Carr. Hefting his
blaster in his hand, he said, "Doesn't matter. Let's go."
They started to walk calmly out of the cave. They had gotten
about halfway to the exit when they were stopped by a crowd of savges,
some growling, showing their fangs.
"Excuse us," said Carr politely, gunning them down. Beams of
light shot from his blaster, striking the closely grouped savages.
Several fell; the rest fled, screaming.
Carr and Roger ran for the cave mouth. There were two savages
blocking their way. "No, problem," said Carr, aiming carefully and
pulling the trigger.
Nothing happened. "Oh oh," said Carr. "Dead power pack."
The two savages closed in. Behind them, they could hear other
savages gathering the resolve to close in again. If only they could
get past the two in front of them! They were huge, and Carr knew that,
hand to hand, he could never tackle both of them. Quite reasonably, he
did not enter Roger into his meelee computation.
The savage at the entrance approached them. Carr blinked. Hadn't
there been two? Then he saw the prone form on the floor. One of them
had been silently dispatched. And then he saw it: another savage
sneaking behind the approaching one, clubbing him from behind.
Roger looked at the remaining savage. "It's Ug!" he cried. "He's
helping us."
Ug gave a savage grin. Together, they fled.
The chase did not last as long as it might; it was night outside,
and the savages, fearing the darkness, did not venture far from the
cavemouth.
The trio crouched behind a boulder as they watched the frustrated
grunts of the savages at the cavemouth.
"Well, we're free," said Carr. "Now, what do we do about the
neanderthal?" He hitched a thumb towards the savage.
"Ug's our friend!" cried Roger.
"Friend?"
"If it weren't for him, we'd be savage stew by now," said Roger.
"We... no... eat people," said Ug, speaking slowly in a deep
voice. "They wrapped in things that no taste good." Evidently he was
referring to clothing.
"You speak!!!" Roger was shocked.
Carr was surprised, too. "Does all your tribe speak our
language?"
"No... before, I go away. Meet Kap-tan Croft. He teach me to
good speak." Ug concentrated as he spoke, as if he were performing a
skill that he hadn't exercised in some time.
"So Croft made it this far," said Carr, considering the
implications. "Did any others?"
Ug looked puzzled.
"You know, other ones in the bad tasting wrappings," said Carr.
Ug shrugged.
After a couple of sharp questions Carr determined that Ug's
ability to understand, like his diction, was quite limited. Ug
apparently knew nothing of the Cube of Power, and Carr soon abandoned
that line of questioning for a more immediate concern.
"Ug, do you know where civilization is?
"Ci-vil-"
Carr frowned, knowing he had made an obvious mistake. He had used
a word with too many syllables. He tried again. "You know, a place
where people are. One where there are towns."
"We go there." Ug got up, started walking.
"What do we do?" said Roger.
Carr took on a deep voice. "Ug! We follow!"
They walked for a day. Even with strict rationing, they had
enough food cubes for another day, no more. Carr held the three
remaining squares in his pocket, though he still held on to the
aluminum sack. He was already hungry. One food cube a day could keep
a person alive, for a time, but it didn't eradicate hunger. With
starvation a very possible fate for all of them, Carr had attempted to
question Ug as to how much farther they had to go. He had attempted to
question Ug about that, but the savage would just point fowards and
say, "There."
Early morning the next day they arrived There. They noticed an
increase invegetation; first, grasses, and then, from time to time,
scrub bushes. They were coming to the edge of the desert.
And then, coming over the top of a sloping hill, they spied a
town in the valley below. It looked primitive; even from this distance
they could see that it was a simple agrarian community. But it was a
start.
"There it is!" cried Roger. He would dine on food squares no
more. This was quite literally true; for even if they found no food in
the town, they had eaten their final food squares that morning.
"Never doubted it for a moment," Carr wisecracked.
They started down the hill. The wind whipped at their backs. But
only a few feet down the other side of the hill, still some distance
from the town, they heard a voice.
"Hello."
They spun about. Carr had not heard anyone coming. Facing them
was a figure in a tattered white robe. The figure's face was obscured
by his hood.
"Hello," said Carr, suspicious of even a greeting on this hostile
planet. His hand fell to his blaster. There was no energy in the
power pack, but the stranger wouldn't know that.
"And who are you?" said the stranger. The probing voice was even
in tone.
Roger was about to answer, but Carr cut him off. "People," he
said.
"From?"
"Afar."
"Going to?" Each question seemed an attack; each answer a parry.
Roger felt tense, as if, given the wrong answer, that they all would be
in great danger.
"That town, yonder below," said Carr, only volunteering what had
to be obvious. "And who are you?"
"You don't want to go there; I can take you to a place of safety,"
wheedled the voice.
"I didn't get your name," Carr insisted.
"You two are obviously strangers to this land," said the hooded
figure. He seemed to be focusing on Roger and Carr. Certainly he did
not seem to be interested in Ug.
"Could be." Carr was not prepared to concede anything. This
bird was obviously intelligent and in the know. Carr was not prepared
to tell the strange anything until Carr knew a little more about him.
"Perhaps you've come looking for something?"
Carr's curiousity was definitely peaked. Was this a coincidence?
Or was this hooded figure tied in with the Cube of Power?
"You know of it?" he said, giving away nothing. Carr had still
not confirmed what "it" was.
"Yes, I do. You want... escape from this land!"
Carr was wrong; this bird didn't really know what he wanted. But
he said, "That's right. You're very perceptive. Do you know the way?"
The stranger laughed. "That I do. Come with me!" The stranger
desperately seemed to want them to follow. Whether it was out of
concern for their own protection, or the fulfillment of his own devious
designs, Carr could not be sure.
But Roger was. Here was a fiend if he ever saw one. "No thanks,"
Roger said, speaking up for the first time. He wasn't sure how he
knew, but he felt that this stranger was malevolent. Perhaps it was
the hood; Roger felt ill at ease by that obscured face.
The hood pointed towards Roger. "It is your choice... Earthling!"
Roger was jolted. How had he known Roger's planet of origin?
And then the stranger stood tall and harsh, as he said, "But I
will tell you this, Roger Barton: you will not escape! The first
trial will be your doom!" And the figure vanished. Into of thin air.
"Goodbye to you too," said Carr, not showing surprised, as if he
were used to seeing people disappear everyday. He turned to Roger.
"Do you know this bird?"
"No!" said Roger emphatically. "I wonder how he knew my name?"
"I'll bet he knew mine too," said Carr. "And despite what he
said, he knows we're after the Cube of Power."
"What makes you say that?"
"Use your brain, Earthling, if you have one. He mentioned the
first trial. He's one of the guardians of the Cube of Power."
"You mean... we have to fight him?"
Carr shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe he's only a referee."
Roger shuddered. "I wouldn't want him judging my polo match."
Carr, who had spent some time on Earth, knew what polo was, but
didn't understand the reference. Shrugging, he said, "Come on, let's
get moving. If there's any relative degree of safety, it'll be in that
town." They started down again.
"He scared me," said Roger. "I knew he was evil."
"If everything that frightened you were evil," said Carr, "I'd be
near the top of the list, wouldn't I?
In a low voice Roger said, "Sometimes you do frighten me, Carr."
"See what I mean?" Carr said, grinning.
"Still, I wish you could have shot him."
Carr's eyes widened. "Roger the pacificist? Roger the coward?
Roger who cried for Envile?" He laughed. "That hooded fellow must
really have gotten to you. Anyway, I couldn't have even if I wanted
to. My blaster is drained, remember?"
"Can you recharge it?"
"Sure," said Carr. "Just tell me where to plug it in. Or give me
another power pack."
"Then why do you still carry it around?" Roger wondered.
Carr shrugged. "Good conversation piece."
In a few mintues they reached the town. It was, as they saw from
a distance, a preindustrial settlement. It seems even electricity had
yet to arrive there. Carr had not been hoping for a spaceport (after
all, nothing ever left Clashik), but he could hope for some sort of
semiadvanced industrial society. Most of the homes were badly built
with roughly hewed wood, and looked very worn and dilapidated.
There were also people milling about, dressed in leather garb,
some armed with swords. Roger looked at some of the signs in the
village. "Miller... Baker... Smitty... this looks like something out
of the past!"
"Maybe it is."
It looked as if the place were out of some past, for the town was
very primitive. Carr noticed that the farms along the way had few or
no crops growing on their fields. And then he saw why: farm animals
were allowed to roam free on the fields. These people didn't even know
the first thing about farming.
Carr studied the inhabitants. None of them gave him a second
glance, even though the party's clothing must have seemed odd to the
townspeople. Even Ug's loincloth didn't fit in. They walked along on
the dusty dirt road leading into town. There wasn't even any pavement.
Animal excrement dotted the road like a minefield.
Carr marvelled at the primitive era they were in. "Dirt... just
a dirt road," he said, half aloud, as he dodged an animal 'landmine'.
"Better than the desert," said Roger. "I got so much sand in my
shoes, I couldn't begin to tell you.
Carr sighed.
"What?" said Roger, sensing something was wrong.
Carr silently pointed downwards.
Roger looked. He had struck a 'mine'--his shoes were smeared
with animal gifts. "Oooh... doodoo," he said, making a face.
While Roger was surrepticiously cleaning his shoes off on the
post of a farmer's mailbox, Carr was studying the houses around them.
When Roger rejoined him, Carr already had a destination in mind. They
headed for an edifice on the left side of the road that interested
Carr. "Ah, let's stop at the... tavern."
"Why?" Roger wanted to know.
"Aren't you thirsty?" said Carr, grinning. Somehow Roger thought
there was more to it than that.
They entered, taking a seat at the bar. Roger and Ug, feeling
extremely conspicuous, did the same. Ug, oddly enough, was used to
chairs, and sat down quite easily.
The place was gloomy, Roger thought, with not enough lighting.
Some feeble oil lit lanterns were hanging about, but they didn't
provide much illumination. The place was dirty too, he thought,
staring down at the musty floor. And yet the tavern did a brisk
business; patrons could be found at the bar and at the tables, drinking
or talking or doing other things that Roger could not see through the
gloom. Roger looked behind the bar. A long row of bottles, fil |