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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, filled
with different colored liquids, presumably alcohol, lined the shelves.
Roger was a little thirsty; but what he really wanted was water.
Unless they had apple juice.
Carr entered into a conversation with the bartender, a squat pear
shaped man who had whisps of hair sticking out of the sides of his
head. Questions immediately came to mind. What would he ask first?
"Are there any spaceports around here?" he asked anxiously.
"Space-port?" said the barkeep, obviously unfamiliar with the
word.
"Know anything about the Cube of Power?" Carr inquired. He
realized that the blunt approach might be imprudent; he was only using
this resident as a rough indicator of what the citizens here did and
did not know. Details could come later.
"Huh?" said the barkeep, staring blankly.
"I guess that answers my questions," sighed Carr. He hadn't
really expected any answers, but... "Have you seen any strangers, any
lights coming down from the sky?"
That got a reaction. The barkeep frowned. "Be ye from the Death
Zone?"
Roger gulped audibly. He didn't like the sound of that.
Carr tried his best to screen Roger out. "Death Zone?" he
repeated.
"The desert area, where the barbarians such as this one roams."
He indicated Ug.
"Yes, that's where we've come from. What lies beyond this town?"
"To the west, where you come from, be the Death Zone. To the east
be the Line. Up and down the Line be other settlements," the bartender
said. "The first one to the north be-"
"Line? What line?"
"The Line of Death."
"Do you mean the Death Zone, the desert?" said Carr, a little
confused.
"Nay, the Line! No one crosses, and livest to tell."
Carr pondered the sitatuion. They couldn't go back across the
desert, and he had a hunch that all the other towns would be just like
this one. This Line of Death sounded interesting, though.
"Tell me more about this Line of Death," he said. Roger turned a
light shade of purple.
"It be the works of the sorcerer Bane."
"Bane?" Hmm... could that be... "Would he happen to be a nasty
fellow, in a white robe? Never shows his face?"
"You've seen him! That be him! He takes all who try to cross the
Line, and none have returned from that final quest. Several years ago
a whole command of knights went into the zone, they did, to deal with
Bane, so they thought."
"And what happened?"
"Naught returned to tell," said the barkeep. "'Tis said that
Bane destroyed them with his magic. 'Tis said he can burn people with
fire from his fingers, or spellbind their wits with the wave of his
hand."
"Ok," said Carr, "I get the picture."
"Ye talk strangely, fellow," said the barkeep.
Carr didn't want to get into that. "Listen, I'd like to buy some
supplies, some food and drink."
"How much you got?"
"Got?" Carr thought a minute. He meant money, undoubtedly. "I
don't have any... I mean, I got nothing. But, uh... um...." He had
not thought this far ahead.
"That shiny sack! I'll give you seven pieces of silver for it!"
said the inkeep, his eyes showing the glint of greed as he stared at
the aluminum emergency pack. Evidently shiny metal items were precious
commodities here.
"Um, how much food would that buy me?"
After some negotiation, Carr's got a week's worth of provisions
for the three of them, plus a (canvass) knapsack to carry them in.
When the deal was consummated, the barkeep snatched up the gleaming
emergency pack and said, "Fellows, look what I got!"
Up to this point Roger and Ug had been keeping quiet, aware that
their appearance alone generated a certain number of curious stares
from the tavern's patrons. But the barkeep's announcement stirred such
an excitement, as if he had lite a match to dynamite. The whole of the
tavern stirred, and several people approached the bar from a far table.
The newcomers had a nasty look to them. Several had scars on
their face. All had swords. Carr ruefully realized that he and his
companions were effectively unarmed. "Let's go," Carr said in a stage
whisper, never taking his eyes off the approaching townspeople.
They were about make their egress when the newcomers hailed them.
"Wait a minute," their leader said. Roger, Carr, and Ug froze. All
activity in tavern seemed to come to a grinding halt.
"Yes," said Carr, facing them squarely. There were four of them.
All armed. Carr caught a glint of light bouncing off the metal hilts
of their swords.
"There's a lot of provisions you got there," their leader drawled.
He had a twisted grin, and mocking eyes.
"That's true."
"My pals and I, we be mighty hungry. You'd not care to share
some?"
"Ye can't do this in me establishment!" yelled the barkeep.
The rogues drew their swords. "Be silent, pudgy!"
Roger whispered, "Maybe we should give them something, Carr." In
Roger's mind accomodation was always the easiest way out of situations
like this. Roger didn't consider this a sign of cowardice; on the
contrary, he viewed it as a way of reducing avoidable friction.
But to Carr this was cowardice. He wouldn't give up anything
without a fight. But he realized that he was woefully outnumbered,
four to two (Roger remained uncounted), and desperately unarmed. He
flexed his fists, waiting for his mind to decide what to do.
It was Ug who made the decision for him. Not being encumbered
with much of a brain, the decision had been easier for him to make. Ug
had been watching this exchange with quiet interest, filing away the
big words he didn't know. He wasn't used to this strange environment,
but he knew enough to know that these fellows meant trouble. Ug
considered smashing them to the ground. That would be nice, he
thought. Ug's slow mind was pondering this possible course of action
when one of the rogues pointed at him and commented, "Hey, where'd you
get the circus refugee from?"
Ug was not entirely an ignorant savage. His horizons had been
broadened during his travels with Kap-tan Croft. He didn't know what a
circus refugee was, but from the leer of the rogue he knew it was an
unflattering comment. And then he remembered Kap-tan Croft's
injunction. "Ug," he said one day, "You're a big fellow. You have to
be careful not to hurt anyone unnecessarily. At the same time, because
you're so big, you don't have to take abuse unnecessarily either."
They were big words, many of them, but in time Ug understood the
meaning, and now he understood their meaning, and an inner rage boiled
in him.
He swiftly reached over and pounded two of the assailants' heads
together. The other two swordsmen turned to face this attack. But
before they could bring their weapons to bear, Ug had picked up one
like a sack of potatoes and thown him against the other. Both went
careening across the bar floor.
The barkeep smiled, looking down at the face of the leader. "I'm
a pudge, eh?" he said, delivering a beefy punch which quite knocked the
ruffian out.
"Ug, you saved us!" cried Roger.
"Congratulations later, departure now," said Carr, getting his
priorities straight. One of their attackers was still conscious.
"Come again!" said the cheery barkeep.
They quickly headed for the edge of town.
"You did good, Ug!" Roger said. "Didn't he, Carr?"
"Yeah, you're the tops, Ug," said Carr, more interested in
watching their rear for any signs of pursuit than congratulating a team
player.
Ug grinned, which resulted in a awkward twist of his face.
Captain Croft had often spoken to Ug in that way. After his ship had
crashed on Clashik, Croft and the other survivors from his ship had
stumbled upon Ug. Captain Croft had befriended Ug and, in addition to
teaching him how to speak, taught him the essentials of morality.
"Ug, it's ok to hurt people who hurt you," Captain Croft had said.
Ug was silent.
The good Captain elaborated. "To step on them, to punch them
out."
Ug grunted affirmatively. This he understood.
"But it's also nice to help good people in need," he added.
This took longer to get through. But in time it did, and, for a
barbarian, Ug possessed a not inconsiderable streak of altruism. That
was a small part of the reason he had helped Carr and Roger in the
cave. The larger reason, of course, was that they mentioned Captain
Croft. But, by and large, Captain Croft had been successful in
impressing a morality of sorts on the huge barbarian.
Unfortunately, Ug's moral tendencies were not formost on Carr's
mind at the moment. He was thinking about this Line of Death. Passing
it must be the goal of the first trial. It had an intimidating name,
but it couldn't mean automatic death. Could it?
"Where are we going?" Roger asked, in a peculiar way.
"Away from this place." Carr didn't want to tell Roger; it would
only worry him.
"May I ask where?"
"Yes." Carr ducked the question. The poor sap would go to
pieces if he knew.
"What?" Roger was confused. This was not an uncommon feeling he
had when he was communicating with Carr. Especially when Carr was
trying to obfuscate the issue.
"Yes, you may ask."
"Stop!" said Roger. They halted. "Where are we going?"
"Well... it's complicated." Carr answered evasively.
It was at times like this that Roger wished that if he absolutely
had to be stranded on a hostile planet, it would be with someone a
little more truthful. "Ok, what are you hiding?"
"Well, we're not going to a particularly pleasant place."
"Couldn't be any worse than that horrid desert," said Roger. "I
heard you talking to the bartender. We're obviously not going to this
Line of Death, so which way are we heading?"
"To the Line of Death."
"What??" Roger cannot be blamed; his primary concern was for his
own safety.
"But there's nothing to worry about," said Carr soothingly. How
was he ever to get them through the trials if Roger simply would not
show any spirit?
"We're going to a place called the Line of Death and there's
nothing to worry about."
"Now you've got it," said Carr, brightening.
"No one's every gone across and returned!"
"Maybe it's a one way passage," Carr theorized. But he didn't
like the sound of it either. He started walking, holding his breath.
Ug and Roger followed.
"Must we go there?" said Roger, in a resigned way.
"Apparently yes. I believe it is the only way to pass this
trial."
"Trial?" Roger said, as if he had never heard the word before.
"This is the first trial for the Cube of Power." said Carr,
disappointed but not surprised that Roger hadn't been keeping up with
current events.
"Can't we stay here?" said Roger desperately. "I mean, it's a bit
primitive, but I could get used to it..."
Carr was silent for a time, debating something internally. Then,
he said, "There's one more thing I have to tell you."
Roger braced himself.
"You may not have caught my entire conversation with the
bartender. He mentioned something else about this Line of Death."
"So tell me."
"You won't like it."
"Of that," said Roger, "I feel most certain."
"Remember that fellow we encountered, just outside town?"
"The creepy fellow in the white robe who turned into thin air?"
"The very same fellow. I'm told he's the one behind all of this."
A chill went down Roger's spine. "Ug, stay close," he said.
They walked until they were very tired. Roger was extremely
weary; it seemed that all they ever did was walk. Even Ug found
himself a bit fatigued.
All signs of civilization had disappeared. All they could see
was a wispy mist all about them.
"What's this?" said Roger, staring at the rapidly growing haze.
"Didn't you listen to the weather report?" Carr grinned.
"For an alien, you're remarkably up on Earth idioms," said Roger.
"I did some field research on Earth once." The grin again. "It
made for a fascinating thesis paper."
Roger couldn't be sure if Carr was being truthful or not. But
Carr had indeed visited Earth before. It had been a pleasure trip;
Carr had been exploring out of the way places, as usual, and he had
come upon the Earth. But that had been years ago, before Carr knew of
Roger's connection to the Cube of Power.
They settled down to camp for the night. Carr could not see
through the gloom for more than several feet away. But with Ug
present they could set up a reliable rotating guard throughout the
night--of Carr and Ug. Carr was content to let Roger sleep the night
away.
The following morning, after a quick breakfast of cold roast
mutton and hard rolls, they started off. It was definitely brighter
than night, but they were still surrounded by mist. Now it was very
thick, rising up from the cold hard ground, and it blotted out most of
the natural sunlight. Roger felt a shiver. Whenever one of the mists
touched him, he would feel a little dampness; but when he touched his
clothes, he never seemed to have gotten wet. What kind of mist was
this?
"With all this mist, do you know where we're going?" Roger wanted
to know.
"No," Carr admitted.
"Then we could be walking in circles."
"Or trapezoids," Carr added.
"Can't you take anything seriously?"
"Of course," said Carr pleasantly. "Unfortunately, you're not on
that list."
They continued walking, and, after a while, in the middle of the
gloom and nothingness, they spotted a glow. Upon closer approach they
found a glowing wall blocking their path. It stretched as far as the
eye could see in either direction.
"This must be it," said Carr. Well, that hadn't been so
difficult, had it? They had reached the end of the first trial.
"Carr, look!"
Scattered in front of the wall were the remains of bodies, many
of them.
Roger, covering his eyes momentarily, instinctively took a step
back. Carr wanted him to go there? There was no way he would do that!
Ug, staring at the bodies, shrugged. He wondered when they would
stop for lunch.
"Did they try to cross?" Carr wondered.
"If that's the result of trying you can count me out," shivered
Roger.
In the distance Roger thought he heard a soft laughter.
"What was that?" he said, whirling about. But all he could see
was the swirling mists.
But Carr wasn't listening. He was still concentrating on the
wall. Something was wrong here. The bodies were... out of place.
"Carr?"
"We need something... ah, this rock should do it." Hefting one in
his hands, he threw it across the wall. It disintegrated on impact.
The laughter was growing audibly stronger, although it just barely
impacted on Carr's consciousness. He was busy studying the wall,
Ug looked around. He wasn't happy here. He gave a sad barbarian
frown.
"We've got to get out of here!" said Roger, staring anxiously into
the mist. He took a step closer to Carr.
"How can that be?" said Carr, staring at the glowing wall. "It's
not consistent." He suddenly snapped out of it, aware of the presence
approaching them. "What?"
"Who," countered the robed figure, coming out of the mist. The
white hood covered its face.
Roger jumped. Ug clenched his fists. Carr was surprised, but
outwardly he maintained his calm. "Bane, I presume," he answered.
"So you know me." And the figure laughed hysterically. It was a
cold dead sound coming deep within its inner being. "And yet you
obviously do not know me, if you choose to come to me on my own
territory!" Bane's voice rose to a roar. In an instant he raised his
arms. They heard a crack of thunder.
"Wait, can't we talk about this," Roger pleaded. He didn't know
what Bane was about to do, but he sensed the power in the stranger, and
was suitably cowed.
Bane lowered his arms. "Surrender!"
Roger was about to request terms, when Carr interrupted. Quick as
a flash he drew his blaster, pointed it straight at Bane. "You have
five seconds to clear off," said Carr, voice steady. There was not a
flutter, not a waver in that voice, nothing to indicate that Carr held
an empty hand. For his blaster had no power, and Carr was effectively
unarmed. But could Bane know that?
Bane laughed. His head jerked back, but the shadow of the hood
prevented them from seeing his face. Then there was silence for a
second. Bane disappeared.
The mists did not cover him; he simply faded from view. In an
instant.
Ug was astounded. Roger looked at Carr. Carr looked terribly
pleased with himself. "There," he said, "That wasn't so tough."
"Carr!" Roger yelled.
Carr spun about, blaster still in hand. They were suddenly
surrounded by tall bipedal furry animals. They towered above Roger,
Carr, and yes, even Ug, uttering menacing growls through the passageway
between their hideous teeth. Carr thought they looked a little like
bears. Huge grizzlies.
The monsters approached. "Carr, what are we going to do?"
Carr thought quickly. Time to call in the reserves. He whistled,
turning to Ug. "Go get'm, slugger!"
Now, it is not that Carr was totally unconcerned for Ug's well
being. After all, it was Ug who helped them escape earlier, and Carr
appreciated that. While not totally unconcerned for Ug, Carr was
relatively much more concerned for his own well being. Roger watched,
almost in a daze, as Ug, ever the good trooper, stomped forward to
engage the enemy. He would be ripped to shreds!
But that didn't happen. Ug took a step towards one of the bear
creatures, and suddenly fell to the ground, even before he made
contact.
"Ug!" cried Roger, running towards his barbarian friend. But
suddenly Roger got a whiff of a strange smell, and before he knew it,
he was on the ground, and the scene was fading.
Carr was no fool; he quickly realized what was happening. He
tried to run for the Line of Death, glowing there just a few feet away,
but something tripped him, and shortly thereafter he fell unconscious
too.
Chapter V
Prisoners of Bane
They were in a cave.
Roger focused, realized that he had been staring at a wall. Carr
and Ug had been awake for sometime.
"Where are we?" said Roger, getting up. His back was stiff from
lying on the ground.
"Some sort of cave complex," said Carr, getting up. "Must be
Bane's home base."
"No way to escape?"
"No. The entrance to this branch of the cave is guarded by two
of those furry things." They had, of course, taken Carr's blaster.
Bane had known immediately that it was a weapon.
"Bears," said Roger.
"Bears?"
"They look like bears."
"Do bears walk around on their hind legs and gas people?" asked
Carr, quite reasonably.
"The bears gassed us?" Roger was still a bit groggy.
Carr leaned close to Roger, whispering. "These are not bears as
you know them."
"What does this Bane person want from us?"
Carr, ignoring him, inspected the walls of the cavern. They were
smooth, but he noticed rutts at regular intervals along the walls. The
cave was not natural tunnel! A great boring machine must have mined
underneath wherever it was they were now. So then, Carr thought, the
guardian of the first trial was not limited to this world's technology.
An interesting fact to note.
But what puzzled Carr more was how Bane performed the tricks that
he did. The "bears" could simply be creatures who naturally excreted a
sleepy gas, imported to Clashik by the Cube possessor. But Bane
puzzled Carr. He seemed to appear, and disappear at will. Carr had
watched carefully both times Bane had appeared and disappeared. If
Bane was using some sort of teleport, there would be some sort of
sound, some sort of telltale effect that would give him away. But he
just appeared and disappeared silently, in an instant. Even the
"bears" appeared without a sound. What did it all mean?
"What does it all mean?" said Roger, for the barest fraction of a
second parallelling Carr's thoughts.
"That should be obvious," said Carr. "This bird is the master of
the first trial. Those who get past him go on to the second trial."
"And those who don't?"
Carr thought it would be obvious. "They become permanent
residents--six feet under."
"Oh." Roger didn't like the sound of that.
Carr had a thought. "Ug," he said coaxingly, turning to the
barbarian.
Ug blinked. Someone was talking to him.
"Did Captain Croft ever get this far?"
Ug spoke slowly. "I go with Kap-tan Croft."
"Did you get past the line of death? Bane?" said Carr.
Ug frowned stupidly.
"Moron," Carr muttered under his breath.
"Mor-on?" said Ug, rising. He didn't know the meaning, quite,
but he recognized the tone in which it was said. He towered over Carr.
Carr thought quickly. "Yes, moron! A person brave and bold,
like yourself," and he gave a smile brimming with the goodness of milk
and honey.
Ug, satisfied, sat down again.
Roger whispered to Carr, "That wasn't very nice."
Carr spoke in a normal voice. "Nice is your department.
Surviving is mine."
There was some commotion at the cave mouth. Their bear guards
parted, for a moment, and someone was pushed into their branch of the
cavern. The newcomer fell to the ground.
Carr went forward, curious to have a look at the fellow as he
struggled to get up. The newcomer was clad like the townspeople they
had encountered earlier. Carr noticed he was wearing a leather vest
over his shirt and trousers, and that there was an empty swordbelt
hanging on his side.
The stranger, dusting himself off, looked up at Carr. "Hullo,
hullo," he said.
"Who are you?" said Carr.
"I could ask thee thy same question."
"I'm Carr. This is Roger and Ug." Even if he was working for
Bane, giving their names couldn't do any harm.
"I am Sir Broth, one of the knights of the Periphery."
"The Periphery?"
Broth told them that he was one of an elite corp of soldiers
assigned to guard the towns along the Line of Death. He seemed to be
something between a sheriff and a magistrate. His duty, he said, was
to patrol.
One day on one of these patrols Broth thought he heard a cry for
help, coming out of the mists. Rushing to the scene, he was snagged by
Bane's minions.
"Just who is this Bane?" Roger asked.
"He's a sorcerer, a terrible one. 'Tis said that he can make
things appear out of thin air. Or strike fear into the hearts of men.
Anyone who ends up in his lair never returns, unless, in a fit of
fancy, he lets once or two go, but changed; scared and witless, their
minds burned out, as a reminder to others not to enter his region. For
hundreds o years he's cast his shadow over the zone!"
"And he never died?" said Roger, wide-eyed.
"No, he be made of spirit stuff; not a man like you or I he be,"
drawled Broth. "But how do you come to be here? And what accounts for
ye strange appearance?"
Carr told Broth the truth--a little of it, anyway. In simple
terms that this primitive could understand, he explained that they had
come out of the desert--"far far out of the desert", as Carr put it,
trying to give the impression of great distances. The fact that he and
Roger came from another planet, and that they were searching for the
Cube of Power, were not matters that he troubled Sir Broth with. Carr,
of course, was confident that Ug would not mention their quest to Sir
Broth; partially because he trusted Ug to keep quiet, but mostly
because he trusted Ug was inarticulate. Roger, though, would have to
be reminded.
"And we were just out for a hike when Bane caught us," said Carr,
giving Roger the eye. Roger gave a barely perceptable nod.
Apparently their story satisfied Sir Broth.
"What will Bane do to us?" said Roger, returning to his most
immediate worry.
"Either death, or torture and death," sighed Sir Broth.
"And as we are obviously still alive, I'd gather we're in line
for the latter program!" beamed Carr, pleased with his powers of
deduction
Roger stared at Carr. How could he be joking at a time like
this?
They heard a laugh. But it wasn't Carr. It was a familiar,
creaky sound, coming from nowhere and everywhere.
Bane appeared, materializing out of the solid rock wall. "Shall
we begin, then?" said the voice underneath the dark hood.
"Can't you just let us go, forget the whole thing?" Roger cried
desperately.
"Let you go." Bane paused, apparently considering. "Could I
just let you go." Roger was not sure if it was a statement, or a
question.
Roger started to get his hopes up. "Yes, yes, you could." Maybe
this creature had compassion. Maybe he had a heart. Maybe-
"Ha ha ha!" Bane gave a great laugh. "No I won't!"
Roger sighed. But Carr smiled, just a bit. He and Bane did have
something in common, after all: they both liked to tease the gullible
Earther.
"I am the guardian of the first trial of the Cube of Power!" said
Bane, in a thundering voice. "Your quest is over, and here it ends!
Who shall be first?"
"Wait!" said Roger. "I don't want this Cube thing! I was
brought here, against my will."
"Oh," said Bane, twisting his hood. "Then we will begin with
you!" And a bony finger pointed at Carr.
"Thanks, buddy," said Carr, as the guards closed in.
"Wait!" cried Roger. He hadn't intended to put Carr in the
spotlight.
The bears escorted Carr out. Bane turned to Roger. "Don't be
impatient, Earthman." The dark hood leaned closer. "You're next."
Roger shivered, turning pale.
Carr, as he was dragged away, reflected that Roger was really a
craven coward. This was a perfectly correct observation. Whenever
confronted with an adversary, Roger invariably chose appeasement over
confrontation, hoping to escape unscathed. Unfortunately, this
strategy did not always work for him. In grade school, for example,
Roger was consistently target 'A' for a disreputable bully. The bully
didn't want Roger's lunch money, or his homework; no, his tastes were
far more insidious. He wanted entertainment. The bully would often
demand that Roger perform ludicrious and degrading acts, which Roger
would reluctantly do. But one day the bully demanded that Roger roll
in the mud like a pig and munch on the schoolyard grass. Roger, who
had a neatness fetish, finally felt this was going too far, and told
the bully no, he wasn't going to do that. Roger had folded his arms
with resolve. No, he wasn't going to do it. The bully responded by
thrashing Roger. From then on, Roger learned to roll in the mud and
chew on the grass. If this episode sheds any further light on Roger's
personality, let the chips fall where they may.
But Carr wasn't thinking of Roger; he was more concerned with his
immediate predicament. "This torture chamber is nothing compared to
Envile's," Carr commented, staring at the dank walls around him. There
were tables in this room, and shelves filled with equipment. The bear
guards were posted at the entrance.
Bane wasn't paying attention. Carr continued, "Aren't you afraid
to be alone with me? I might be able to strangle you before your
guards could help?" He fluttered his fingertips suggestively as he
smiled.
But Carr wasn't impressing Bane with his cool. "Ha ha ha," said
the voice from the hood, laughing at Carr, not with him. Bane turned
to face Carr. Pulling back his hood for the very first time, he said,
"Like to try it?"
Hideous. Carr was forced to turn his eyes away in disgust. For
Bane's evil, twisted face, planted with a hideous smile, was decorated
with bloody cuts and scars. And those eyes. Those piercing unblinking
eyes.
"I've been dead a long time," Bane laughed.
Carr forced himself to at least look in Bane's general direction.
"Nice getup," he commented, burying his revulsion. "You must be the
laugh of costume parties." He suddenly bunched up his fist, intending
to land a solid blow across that hideous face. But a wall of fire
suddenly separated them, and Carr drew back.
"Ha ha ha."
Carr lowered his arm. The flame disappeared. The spontaneous
creation of fire... how was it done? What technology? And suddenly,
Carr understood. The fire, the disappearing, the bears, everything.
Bane had a power, certainly. But if Carr was right, it was of an
entirely different nature than he had first thought.
"So you see, I am not so defenseless," said Bane. "And now, it's
time."
"Torture?" said Carr stoicly.
"If the answers to my questions are not forthcoming and accurate,
yes."
"So what are we talking about?" said Carr, stretching casually.
"Your point of origin."
"From far away, in the desert," said Carr. Despite the
technology that was present here, he wasn't sure how much Bane could
grasp.
"You came from the sky? In a metal ship?"
"Yes, I did." Well, if Bane wasn't exactly conversant with space
travel, at least he was aware of it.
"You've come here, looking for the great Cube?"
That much was obvious. "Yes. You don't happen to have it, do
you?"
"No. I possess the mere power of magic."
Carr forced a glance at that ghastly smile. "Did you cause the
ships to crash?"
"That was not my doing." Bane drew himself up proudly. "I am
the guardian of the first trial of the Cube of Power. No one may
pass."
"What about Captain Croft?" said Carr, probing. If anyone had
gotten past Bane, it would be Captain Croft.
"No one may pass!" The mere mention of Croft seem to infuriate
Bane. Croft was a sore spot; why?
"That doesn't mean no one actually has, doesn't it?"
"They have all failed in their quest for great power!"
That sounded rather conclusive, Carr thought. Still, he wasn't
about to take Bane's word for anything. "And you, do you also quest
for great power?" said Carr.
"Yes! No! It was not meant for me!"
Carr saw immediately that he had put Bane on the defensive. He
pressed his advantage. "Why haven't you gone and taken it? Your
powers must be great enough."
"Myself? Take the Cube of Power? I could not. Crossing the
Line-" and then Bane stopped himself.
"So the line does have to be crossed," said Carr. "Thanks for
the information. And here's something else for your troubles." He
quickly stepped forward again, bunching his fist. The flame wall
sprung into place between them. Carr just stepped right through it,
unscathed. Bane just stared at Carr.
"It had to be, you know," said Carr, landing a punch in Bane's
stomache that should have caused him to double over. But it was Carr
who was in discomfort. His hand was awash in pain. His hand felt like
it had just punched a brick wall. Carr nursed his aching fingers.
Bane's smile was fixed on his face. "Very good," he said.
"Almost all you have guessed is correct."
"Guessed?" said Carr, wincing at the pain. "It was obvious.
You're not dealing with some primitive or Earthman, you know."
"Actually," said Bane, "I'm not really dealing with anyone. Your
execution is long overdue. Guards!"
Carr was still thinking of a way of preventing Bane from having
the last word when the guards came for him.
Roger was brought to Bane, who, hooding himself again, concealed
his previous rage. Bane surmised, correctly, that the amount of
intimidation needed to persuade Roger to talk would be nil. "Welcome,"
Bane said. Carr was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he?" said Roger, wondering what had become of Carr.
Even though he couldn't seen Bane's face, Roger felt certain that
he was smiling. "Your friend is, shall we say, indisposed."
"You've killed him?" Roger felt sad. Carr had treated him badly
at times, but....
"Killed is such a harsh word. I prefer eliminated."
"And I'm next?" Suddenly Roger was very afraid.
"Ha ha ha ha!"
"Is that a yes or a no?" Roger politely inquired.
"Answer my questions, and we will see." Bane paused, then said,
"Your companion."
"Carr?"
Bane nodded. He didn't even want to say the name of the wretched
alien. "I understand why he wanted the great Cube of Power. His kind
always seeks more and more. But you have disavowed any claim."
Bane paused, and posed hif first question. "How did you come to
get here?"
Roger told Bane the whole story, from the very beginning, when he
had been doing the bills in Englewood, New Jersey on that fateful day.
Although some of it was beyond Bane's comprehension, he understood
much. "I do not know of these bills that you keep speaking of. But is
it true, are you are the one who can obtain the great Cube?" Bane
asked.
"Well, that's what this computer said. If you ask me, I don't
really buy it."
"Perhaps you are... perhaps you are." Bane seemed to be speaking
half to himself, thinking intensely.
"Listen, just what do you want of me?" said Roger. Perhaps if he
could just appease Bane in some minor way....
But what Bane wanted was by no means minor. Yes, he was the
guardian of the first trial of the Cube of Power, but he often lusted
after the Cube himself. His powers were void beyond the first trial,
the Cube possessor were not that stupid, but if the Earthling were the
key... he, Bane, could hold the Cube in his hands, command the galaxy,
do, create, command anything and everything. But even if he did cross
the Line, he would need a weapon. A decision was made.
"Do you know what this is?" Bane suddenly produced Carr's
blaster.
"Yes, it's Carr's. Did you really kill him?" Roger persisted.
"He, like me, was only using you," Bane stated.
"Yes, well, but he was a rather nice fellow, in a way....."
Bane returned the conversation to its proper topic. "This
weapon. It does not work for me. Why is this so?"
Roger had no idea; this was alien technology. Wait, hadn't Carr
said something... "Well, maybe the... power thing is dead."
Bane had anticipated this. "I have many artifacts I have
collected from other travellers." He waved his arm to an odd
collection of electronic bits and pieces scattered throughout the
chamber. Roger started to look through them. Most of them were
unfamiliar to him.
"Is there anything there that will make the machine work?"
"Ummm..." Roger felt rushed. He picked up a component. "This
looks similar to the one Carr took out of his blaster. I could be sure
if you'd let me try to fit it in." Now, Roger thought, if only he'll
give the blaster over....
But Bane hadn't been born yesterday. Indeed, Bane had never been
born. "No!"
"Why?" said Roger quizically, for the moment forgetting his fear.
"With all your powers could I hurt you, even with a blaster?" Roger
realized that something was not quite right here. What could Bane be
afraid of? He could just disappear in an instant, couldn't he?
"You will serve me," said Bane, reinforcing his authority.
"I will? I mean, yes, I will," said Roger, eager to get along.
"Soon we will go, and get the Cube of Power. You will assist me
in this great purpose!"
"Wonderful," muttered Roger, but he really wasn't all that happy
at the thought of Bane possessing great power. But, at the moment, he
didn't really have any choice. Roger changed the subject. "You know,
you really should have asked Carr about the blaster before you killed
him."
"There was little time. He was uncooprerative and had to be
destroyed quickly. I trust you will not follow his example."
"Oh no no no," Roger quickly said. "You just name the time, and
I'll be all ready to go Cube hunting with you. Can't think of anything
I'd rather do. But... by the way, you don't happen to know just where
it is? Or who has it and why he's giving it away?"
"All in good time, all in good time," said Bane. " I must
prepare for our journey. Guards!"
Roger was escorteed back to his cell-cave. He hadn't done at all
badly, Roger thought, evaluating his own performance; he had gone to
Bane alive, and returned in the same state. But Roger felt angry as
well. Roger was not normally disposed towards violence, but he
inwardly vowed to avenge Carr's death.
Ug and Sir Broth were there, sitting glumly.
"What did he do to thee?" Broth urgently inquired.
"Oh, not much," said Roger, putting a brave face on it.
"Thou art modest!" said Sir Broth. "Thou has suffered at the
hands of the terrible sorcerer!"
"Oh, it wasn't really so bad," said Roger. "I resisted him
to the fullest." Roger didn't see fit to tell them he hadn't even been
tortured, not even a little bit. Bane needed him intact.
"And where is your friend, the rash one?"
"Bane did him in," said Roger sadly. Bane would pay for that, he
resolved again. He noticed Ug clenching his fists.
"We must plan an escape!" said Sir Broth.
"No!" said Roger, aware that Bane may well be listening in. He
didn't want to appear as if he were doublecrossing Bane already.
"Why thee not? We must go, or else Bane will take us all!"
"It's just futile," said Roger, putting a finger to his lips.
Sir Broth and Ug, totally uncomprehending, put fingers to their lips as
well in a sort of puzzled mimicking gesture.
"We must escape!" Broth resounded.
There was just no way to shut this fellow up, Roger thought.
"When you have a viable plan, let me know." Roger sat down, facing
away from them. He thought about Clashik. Funny, how at times the
planet seemed so... familiar. Evidently this planet did not perfectly
mimic Earth's past.
That was it! This was a virtual copy of Earth's very own past.
The cavemen, the swordsmen, the knights... all jumbled together from
Earth's past! And yet there had been no magic in Earth's past; at
least none that Roger was aware of.
Ug knew nothing of Earth history; in fact, it can be
authoritatively stated, Ug knew very little of anything. There were
certain basic concepts and feelings he understood, to be sure: hunger,
hurt, kill, eat, run, and kill again were most of them. But right now
all he could think of was escape. Escape, that was part of the reason
he had gone with Captain Croft and his company. He remembered the
night he had seen the light come down in the night sky. Croft and his
survivingmen had emerged from the smoky remains of a twisted piece of
metal. Ug had wanted to kill them, at first, but Croft had distracted
him with a slight of hand, and a smile, and a bit of food, and from
then on they were allies. Ug wondered what had happened to Captain
Croft. He thought back to the day they had reached the mists. He
frowned; his memory clouded.
Suddenly, Ug smiled. He now was thinking of ripping Bane into
shreds. This was a theme which clearly pleased him. Given the
opportunity, Ug would gladly crush Bane. He would pound the robed
figure into the ground, smashing with his fists. If a suitable club
could be found, he would use that, too. Then he would stomp on the
remains with his feet, and yell a bit....
Roger's thoughts were a little calmer. He was wondering just
why, at this particular point of his life, he, a sedentary bookkeeper
from the New Jersey suburbs was constantly finding his life at risk.
Could he blame Carr? Actually, Carr had saved his life; were it not
for him, Roger would probably be digested in some Cranshan's innards by
now. Roger tried to review in his mind what, if anything, there was he
could have done to avoid this situation. Was there someone he could
have appeased? Mollified? Evaded?
A cloudy mist appeared in front of the captives, solidifying
rapidly. Bane had returned. In one hand was the provisions pack,
which he tossed to Roger. "Your food supplies," he said simply. "We
go now."
"Go? Where are you going?" Sir Broth asked.
Roger realized he hadn't let Ug and Sir Broth in on Bane's plan.
Indeed, he hadn't been thinking about it very much at all. He was
about to open his mouth to say the first thing that came to him, when
all of a sudden Sir Broth launched himself...
...and tackled Bane to the ground! Both fell to the ground in a
heap. "Run!" cried Sir Broth, wrestling with Bane.
Roger fled, grabbing the pack, Ug close at his heels. Roger
wondered how they would deal with the bear guards at the entrance. But
the bears weren't there; in their place were two little men, each armed
with some sort of weapon.
"Midgets!" cried Roger. "Get'em, Ug!"
Before the surprised sentries could bring their weapons to bear,
Ug had picked them both up and flung them against the far wall. They
collapsed, unmoving. At this point Roger proposed an urgent
recommendation.
"Run!" he cried.
They ran, madly. They ran for several minutes, and then had to
slow down because Roger, exhausted, could only walk. They didn't know
where they were going, of course; whenever they reached a fork in the
cave, Roger would simply try to take the one that sloped upwards,
hoping it would lead to the planet surface. After jogging through the
tunnels for some time, they reached a dead end. Sounds of their
pursuers could be heard in the distance.
"What are we going to do, Ug?" said Roger, gasping for breath.
He leaned up against the rock wall--and fell through, to the other
side. He blinked. A rock wall now separated him from Ug. He put his
hands up against the wall--and felt nothing! It was an illusion!
"Ug!" he cried. "It's a fake wall! Come on through!"
Huge hands appeared in the rock, wavering uncertainly. Roger
pulled him through.
"Ug," said Ug, slightly amazed.
"Look at this," said Roger, turning around. They were in some
sort of laboratory. Roger saw more bits and pieces of electrical
equipment, only these were in better condition than the components Bane
had showed him earlier. In the corner was a large man-sized cage...
containing a man.
"What kept you?" Carr said cynically.
"Carr, Bane said you were dead!"
Carr rolled his eyes, showing what he thought of anything Bane
cared to say. "Key, please. On the table."
As Roger scavenged for it, he said, "We've escaped!" Roger got
the key, unlocked the cell.
Carr stepped out. "You?"
"Sir Broth. He tackled Bane. And Carr, you're right about the
bears not being bears; they're really midgets with guns," babbled
Roger.
Carr listened as he sorted through the equipment in the lab. "My
blaster!" he yelled, hefting it upwards. He looked around.
"What're you looking for?"
"Powerpack. Somewhere in this mess... ah, got one!" he yelled,
fitting it into his weapon. "Now let's see Bane tangle with us!"
"Car, he has awesome powers! He can even disappear at will!"
"No!" Car vigorously shook his head. "Yes, he has a power. But
it's not nearly as potent as you think."
"What?" Roger was confused. "And how come he didn't kill you?"
Carr was rapidly scanning the room for anything else of value.
Most of it was junk, he decided. He picked up a long walking stick
leaning against a wall. "He couldn't kill me. Let's go."
They made their way through the illusory wall. "Why couldn't
he?" Roger persisted.
"Oh, he could have, but not in the way you think." Carr
scraped the stick against the wall as they went.
"What're you doing? That's making a loud noise!" Roger hissed.
"I'm looking for an exit."
Roger was confused, until he thought about it. Of course, Carr
was hoping to detect another illusory wall. They kept going.
Their pace was so brisk that they almost ran right into two of
the bear creatures. As the bears roared and charged, Carr gunned them
down with his blaster.
"Look!" said Roger, quite unnecessarily. For in front of their
eyes the bears had turned into those little people whom Roger had seen
earlier. "Midgets with guns!" Roger cried.
"Dwarves, maybe," said Carr. He inspected their weapons. "Gas
gun," he said. "This is how we were knocked out. Here, take it," he
said, passing one on to Roger.
As they continued their flight Roger puffed, "How do I operate
it?"
"Aim, and pull the trigger. A small volume of compressed air
shoots out and overwhelms your target. Crude, but effective."
"Are these remnants of past expeditions too?"
"I doubt it. They're too crude-"
Carr stopped, in mid sentence. Someone was approaching. Carr
lowered the walking stick with one hand and raised his blaster with the
other. "Hello," bellowed the figure.
The figure approached. It was someone familiar. His shape came
out of the shadows.
"Sir Broth!" cried Roger. "What happened to Bane?"
"Bane will trouble you no more. I have vanquished him."
"Impressive," said Carr. "You wouldn't happen to know a way out
of here?"
Sir Broth smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do. I passed an exit
while I was looking for you. Just follow me, my lads!" They followed
the knight's lead.
Roger was pleased. They had found another friend and ally, and
now it looked as though they would make good their escape. But Roger
was still worried about Bane; he kept looking over his shoulder, as if
he feared that Bane might still be pursuing them.
Carr was curious how Sir Broth had managed to defeat Bane. Quite
curious. But questions could wait; escape was the immediate concern.
After a few winding turns they came to an exit, a breach in the
cave tunnel leading into the mist. A cold wind brushed by them. "We
passed by here earlier," said Roger. "That wasn't there before."
"We'll discuss it later," said Carr, grabbing Roger's arm and
propelling him after Sir Broth. Ug brought up the rear.
"I think the Line of Death is this way," said Sir Broth, pointing
to the left.
"How did you know where we wanted to go?" Carr asked curiously.
Had Roger told him?
"Your friend told me," said Broth easily.
Roger frowned. Did he? He didn't remember telling Broth. Carr
caught Roger's frown.
"Then you lead the way," said Carr, motioning Broth forward.
Broth led the way. It was impossible to determine how he kept
his sense of direction through the mists, but Broth seemed outwardly
confident. They walked about for some time, silently following their
guide in the mists. It was dark, and gloomy, but it was a positively
cheerful environment compared to Bane's caves. After more than an hour
of walking, Roger asked for a halt. "I'm tired," he said, plopping
down on the ground.
"We're only a short distance from the Line," said Sir Broth.
Carr stretched his hands several feet away from Sir Broth, facing
him as he yawned a bit. "You have an amazing sense of direction, Sir
Broth. You not only know the direction of the line, but the distance
as well. Do you see any landmarks that we don't?"
"I've walked this area many times," said Sir Broth, slowly pacing
back and forth. "It was my duty to defend this region. I had to know
every inch of it. What appears like mist to you is a roadmap to me.
When the ground rises slightly, when the mist thickens, when the smell
changes, I recognize these signs and know where I'm going. I dare say
I know this region just as well as my own home." And he gave a puffy
smile.
Roger wondered why Carr was grilling Sir Broth. Wasn't he
grateful that Broth had helped them escape? Did Carr feel he had any
better idea where the Line was?
Carr matched Broth's friendly smile. "Have you ever been across
the Line of Death, Sir Broth?"
The knight laughed. "No one has crossed it and lived."
Roger felt some tension in the air, as if there was some danger
around, but something that they couldn't quite see, or recognize.
Carr spoke again. "Then aren't you a tiny bit curious as to why
we are rushing to our deaths? Or did Roger tell you that, too?" He
looked up at Broth, with a firm probing glance emanating from his eyes.
And then Roger remembered. He hadn't told Sir Broth about their
quest; in fact, he had made a point of not telling him. In fact, the
only one he had told was-
The knight frowned. "I assume you have a way of crossing."
"That's right, I do," said Carr. He turned his head to Roger,
keeping Broth in his peripheral vision. "Bane made several mistakes,"
Carr said.
"Really? Such as?" Roger asked. Roger was confused. Why was
Carr changing the subject? And why were both of them acting so
strangely?
"Well, if ye want one example, Sir Broth's accent be a bit
missing!"
Carr's blaster was drawn, aimed, and fired even before the last
word leapt from his tongue. An expertly aimed blast struck down the
ground where Broth had stood. But Broth was quicker. Somehow he had
simultaneously lept several feet to the right. His shape shimmered,
changed.
"Welcome back, Bane," Carr laughed. "You didn't think you had me
fooled for one minute, did you?"
"I will destroy you all!" Bane thundered.
"I think not. You're out here alone without your dwarven
gunners." Carr smiled. "And I understand the nature and essence of
your power. Yes, you can confuse, and trick. But illusion alone is
hardly a potent weapon."
"What did you do to Sir Broth!" Roger cried.
"Sir Broth?" Bane said. "Oh yes, Sir Broth. There is no Broth!"
"Simply another one of Bane's illusions. Pity you forgot to stay
in character," said Carr. Could he pull the trigger before Bane leap
again? That was the problem with illusions; you could never know for
certain just where your opponent was.
"You see, Roger, he has no physical power. His magic is simply
the power of illusion. That was why he couldn't destroy me, short of
physically throttling me. That is why he is now helpless. Your plan
failed, Bane. You won't be able to trick Roger into leading you
through the trials."
"This is not the end!" Bane thundered, disappearing. Carr fired
instantly, but it seemed that Bane had gotten away. "He's too quick,"
said Carr. He frowned. That made no sense. Carr had lightning
reflexes. Could someone vanish in the time it took to pull a trigger?
"How did you know..."
"It was very simple," said Carr, emphasizing the "very" to
properly rub Roger's nose into it. "He gave himself away many times.
For one thing, in his effort to make this so-called 'Line of Death'
more terrifying he put the illusion of bodies around the site. But a
disintegrating field wouldn't leave dead bodies. Remember how the
guards appeared to you as bears? Those were illusions too, concealing
the true nature of our captors. It's all been an illusion."
"What about his disappearances?"
"Illusion again. He may be invisible to our eyes, but I'll bet
he can still be hit by blaster fire. "
"Well, we'll just have to keep an eye out for him, then," said
Roger.
Carr slapped his forehead. Great suggestion. Watch out for the
invisible enemy.
Ug looked around, sniffing, as if he could smell Bane out.
"So, what do we do now?" said Roger, taking it all in.
"Why, we go in the direction that Bane was kind enough to show
us. Bane was just as anxious as we were to cross the line and get on
to the next trial. Of course, we now know that the line itself is
imaginary."
"We do?" Roger was confused; how did that conclusion come about?
"Yes, we do." He said it resolutely.
Roger was puzzled by Carr's style of argument. Reasoning was
replaced by emphasis. Well, Roger rationalized, Carr was an alien from
outer space, he must know what he was doing.
The trio decided to rest for the night. Even if the Line was
only several feet away, they could lose it in the gloom. At least in
the morning enough light would shine through the haze to give them a
better chance of finding it.
"Who will take the first watch?" said Roger.
Carr considered. "I'll take it."
"Ok, wake me-"
"No! Ug and I will switch off," said Carr. "You just rest."
Carr didn't want to wake up in the morning with a greeting from Bane
lodged between his shoulder blades; he'd rather lose a little sleep and
split the time with Ug.
Ug and Roger lay down. They were only several feet from Carr but
he could barely see them in this gloom. Carr had an uneasy feeling.
Even without the gloom Bane could sneak up and chop him down from
behind. Carr peered left and right uneasily.
Roger couldn't sleep. He kept thinking of Bane. What kind of a
creature was he? So malevolent, so destructive. Was the possessor of
the Cube like Bane? Roger shivered; he hoped it weren't so. If the
Cube possessor was malevolent, what fate awaited them if they completed
the trials? Probably nothing very nice, he thought.
But Roger gradually calmed down, and fell to sleep. He might not
have gone to sleep so easily had he been aware of the hostile entity
just a few feet from their campsight, its piercing eyes staring
straight at him.
Carr turned in and let Ug relieve him. He realized that Ug was
reliable, as long as the task he was intrusted with was not too
complex. But, just in case, Carr slept with his hand on his blaster.
His constant companion. His most reliable, too.
Ug was shaking him. Had he fallen off? It was lighter now. The
Line of Death was apparent, about ninety feet away. Roger and Ug
wanted to have a quick breakfast first but Carr vetoed it; the Line was
in their reach! No more delays!
The glowing wall was just as Carr remembered it. He got close to
it. The moment was close at hand.
"Wait!" cried a voice. Out of the gloom, Roger appeared.
Roger? Carr blinked. They already had a Roger! This second
Roger walked out of the gloom, rubbing his head. Ug looked confused.
Carr, in doubt, reflexively drew his blaster. "All right, what's going
on here?" he asked, having a good idea already.
"That's Bane!" said the Roger who had suddenly appeared,
indicating the first Roger. "Last night he hit me on the head with a
rock, and dragged me somewhere."
"What?" said the first Roger. "That's not true! He's the one!"
"Look! I have a nasy bump on my head to prove it!" said the
second Roger, bending slightly to show an inflamation.
Ug, looking at them both, noticed that there was one too many
Rogers. He sniffed them, first the wounded Roger, then the uninjured
one. They seemed the same. Then, forgetting about this enigma,
another thought occurred to him. "When we eat?"
"Soon," said Carr absentmindedly. He didn't bother to inspect
the Rogers closely. Carr knew severeal easy ways to identify the real
Roger. And he already had a hunch which was the real one. But he
chose not to identify the imposter just yet. If he did, Bane might
escape and attempt something worse.
"This is what we're going to do," said Carr. "Roger, you without
the concussion, you are Roger One. You, the wounded one, are Roger
Two. We will proceed to the Line of Death. When we cross, Bane's
power of illusion will be nullified and we will see... what there is to
see. Any questions?" There were none. Both Rogers seemed confident
that they were real.
"You won't get away with this, you know," Roger One declared.
"Hah! Look who's talking," said Roger Two.
"I was never snotty," said Roger One.
"My brother imitates me better than that," said Roger Two.
"Imposter."
"Phony."
"Fraud."
"Charlat-"
"Rogers! Be quiet!" Carr yelled. Enough of this!
Carr set Ug to watchdog the second Roger. Carr decided to keep
more of an eye on the first one. They could not afford any slipups.
Each Roger, escorted by a guard, approached the Line.
"I wonder why they call it a Line?" mused Carr. "Looks like a
wall to me." The bodies scattered about did not scare him; he knew
they were all illusionary. "Well, gentlemen, it's time to step
through," he said, waving his blaster in a come-along gesture.
"Are you sure this thing is just an illusion, Carr?" Roger One
asked nervously. He stared at the burnt bodies. Doubt crept into his
mind.
"Of course I'm sure," said Carr soothingly.
"Why don't you go through first, just to be sure," Roger Two
suggested. He didn't like the situation either.
"No, you Rogers will have the first honor. Hm... which one is to
go first? Any volunteers?"
Neither Roger spoke up. "Very well," said Carr. "You there,
Roger One, the uninjured one; go through!"
"You saw what it did to the rock! It disintegrates things!" said
Roger One.
Had Bane been there, watching them? Or was that the real Roger?
Carr still had his hunch, and didn't change his mind. His finger
tightened on the trigger of the blaster. "If you don't go through,
you'll surely be disintegrated."
Roger One looked at Carr, measuring him up. He meant it.
Sighing, he quickly walked towards the wall. There was a brilliant
fuzz of light, and he disintegrated on impact; his body simply
disappeared.
"You see!" said Roger Two. "It is real!"
Carr swung his blaster around to face Roger Two. "Roger Two,
what is my name?"
Roger Two thought this an extremely easy question. "Why, Carr,
of course."
Carr jerked up his blaster, pointing it at Roger. Roger tried to
move past Ug, but Ug grabbed him. Roger threw Ug over his shoulder,
and started to run. Carr fired once, hitting Roger squarely in the
chest. Roger skidded, falling into the domain of the wall, and
disintegrated.
Ug got up looking bewildered. "He sure was strong, for such a
frail looking fellow," commented Carr.
"Big big for little little," agreed Ug. Then, as occasionally
happened, a thought occurred. "Roger... gone?"
Carr laughed. "No, he isn't dead. Come on, come across the
wall."
"Me no go!" said Ug, refusing.
"Trust me!" Carr said. "This is the way Captain Croft went."
Gripping Ug's hand, they walked to the wall. If an observer had been
present, he would've seen them disintegrate too.
Chapter Six
Racked over the Coals
"Carr! Ug!" said Roger, greeting them.
Carr squinted in the harsh sunlight, the first he'd seen in some
time. He turned to Ug. "See, we're not dead. Not even a little bit."
Ug turned around. The wall, the mist, they were no where to be
seen. It was as if they had stepped into a different world. A
featureless desert. Again. But Carr spotted a white robed figure
lying face down in the sand. He approached it, cautiously.
"He came over a few seconds after I did," said Roger.
Carr looked at Bane silently for a moment, then uncovered the
hood. The wicked face leered at him. But wait, there was a crack in
the face. Carr pulled at it. The face came off, almost in one piece.
Underneath were optical scanners, wires, circuitry boards.... "Robot!"
said Carr. Carr examined the cavity created by his blaster hit. Sure
enough, Bane was a wire and metal frame robot.
"A robot?" said Roger, as always a little slow to understand.
"Yes, a robot. No wonder he was strong enough to throw Ug."
"Carr, can you explain to me just what's been happening?"
"Surely." Carr sat down, drew a breath, and gave a condensed,
simplified explanation that Roger would understand.
Bane was the guardian of the first trial of the Cube of Power,
whose express mission was to stop Cube seekers from passing. Whether
by design or accident, the Cube's servant also lusted for the great
power. But Bane's power was limited to his domain. Any attempt to
cross it would force him to abandon his power of illusion.
"Magic," grunted Ug, who had managed to follow every fourth word
or so. His attention span grew even dimmer when Carr tossed him a leg
of roast mutton.
"Holographs," said Carr. "Advanced holography."
"Magic," Ug insisted, chomping. He munched on the bone. It
tasted good.
"Magic," Carr agreed, shrugging.
Carr continued. He had realized early on that Bane's only power
was that of illusion. Oh, he had brute physical strength, and his
dwarven guards to back him up, but Bane was not nearly so powerful as
he appeared. The secret to passing the trial was understanding that.
It was also important to know that the so-called "Line of Death" was
just an illusion. Carr explained how the presence of the bodies around
the Line clued him in. It was just all an illusion, including Roger's
apparent disintegration when he hit the Line.
"Now, is everything quit clear?" Carr asked patiently.
"Not quite. Couldn't you tell it was me from the start?" Roger
was a little hurt.
"Oh, that. Yes, of course," said Carr. "If Bane had managed to
spirit you away in the night, he would have killed you, just to be
certain. "
"Then why did you send me through first?"
"I didn't want you in the way when we confronted him," said Carr.
"Now, can we go? The sun's really beating down, and this desert isn't
much better then the last one."
"One more thing," said Roger. Carr, scowling, got up and started
walking. They followed.
"Wait!" said Roger, running to catch up. "I thought I was the
one who was supposed to be able to get this Cube thing. It was really
you who got us through this! Maybe I'm not really necessary."
Carr thought a moment. "I'll have to think about that one. I
also thought that you would be necessary at some crucial moment. As it
was, you were a burden. Got your gas gun? Good! Let's be off!"
Carr immediately started thinking of their next plan of action.
His thoughts were so inwardly directed, in fact, that he didn't even
hear Roger's irritated reply.
"Burden?" said Roger. "Who rescued you from that cage?"
They walked and they walked. The desert surrounded them. As
there were no discernible landmarks, it didn't really seem to matter
which way they went.
Roger sighed. He hadn't missed the desert. In the mists his
feet had begun to recover to recover from the harsh treatment they had
taken in the desert. Sand had seeped into his shoes, continually
scraping against his feet. But now sand was starting to worm its way
in again, and Roger felt the familiar abrasions again, rubbing
painfully everytime he walked. The sun beat down on the back of his
neck, worsening an already inclement sunburn. They were back in the
same old desert.
But it wasn't quite the same. Carr's keen eye caught some
differences. The sand was finer here. Bunches of tall dunes spotted
the desert. And the odd cactus or two popped out of the sand.
Roger didn't know it, but, as deserts went, this environment
really wasn't that hostile. There were deserts in the galaxy that
were harsher than the ones on Clashik. Carr himself had one in mind.
It was nine years ago, when he had talked himself aboard the Orlish
Institute's expedition to the Balash Wastelands of Orion IV, perhaps
the most dangerous desert in the known galaxy. It was teeming with
desert scrapers that ate through clothes and flesh with a lightning
speed. Fortunately, most desert scrapers were not greater than four
inches in size, so that individuals with metal tipped boots could
saunter through the desert with confidence. But several members of the
expedition were lost when, with misplaced confidence, they tripped and
fell into the desert sands.
What was worse, from Carr's perspective, was that they didn't
find any crystals.
But Roger could not bring himself to believe that he was in a
relatively hospitable environment. In fact, he was quite unthankful.
"I'm thirsty!" he whined. "I wish we had more to drink! Our water
rations are getting low!" Indeed, at the rate they were drinking it,
they would run out in but a day or two.
"Try drinking some sand," said Carr, rather nastily. After all,
there was nothing he could do about it.
They kept walking, plodding through the desert. The heat beat
down on the trio. "Carr, do you know where we're going?"
"Do you know a better route?" snapped Carr. The heat was
irritating him, too. And, more to the point, he didn't know where they
were going.
Finally, nightfall came, and relief from the beating sun. "At
least the moon is out, so we won't be in total darkness," said Roger.
Carr shook his head. "Clashik doesn't have a moon! I mean, I
see the moon out there as plainly as you do, but Clashik does not have
a moon!"
Roger peered at it curiously. "Not only is it a moon Carr... I
think it's the moon, the Earth's moon!"
"Roger, you've really flipped. What would the Earth's moon be
doing here, around Clashik?"
"Maybe we're on Earth. Maybe we... teleported when we crossed
the line."
"Hmm," was all Carr would say.
After a dinner of roast mutton the adventures, tired from a day
of marching on the sands, quickly decided to go to sleep. Carr,
desperate for some rest, agreed to let Roger have a watch.
Unfortunately, Carr's fatigue affected his judgement, for he even let
Roger have the first watch.
"But if you fall asleep, I'll..." mumbled Carr, falling asleep
before he could finish his threat.
"I won't!" resolved Roger.
And he didn't. He stayed awake. He was given a job, and he was
going to do it. They could rely on him. Roger's resolve did not
waver. He stayed wide awake....
For an hour and a half.
The next morning, they were rudely shaken awake. Carr, groaned,
knowing even before he opened his eyes what had happened. Roger had
fallen asleep on watch. Again.
Carr looked around, his eyes squinting in the bright morning
light. Their visitors were tall, rough looking men wearing broad oval
hats. The hats all had some sort of grinning bird emblem prominently
displayed in the front. All the strangers were mounted on horses.
Carr did not have long to wonder whether they were friendly; for,
feeling around, he felt himself tied to a rope. Roger and Ug were in a
similar state.
"Whoa, what've we got here?" said one, an especially tall and
tough looking horseman. He was clad all in black, from boots to
trousers to shirt to hat. The bird emblem on his hat was just a little
bigger than the other horsemen's. To Roger it looked like a leering
buzzard. This was not an encouraging sign.
"Greetings," said Carr, trying not to get off on the wrong
footing. Could he reach his blaster with the rope around his arm?
Who should he shoot first, the horsemen, or Roger?
"Stranger, are you aware that this is private property?" said the
leader of the horsemen. He had a hard, squarish face, that look
unaccustomed to smiling, or warm emotions of any kind. His dark hair
was neatly combed, even though the wind blew everyone else's.
"No, no, we didn't know," said Carr. Was his blaster even in its
holster?
"They're lying, Rack!" said one of the horsemen to the leader.
"No, we aren't. We're innocent travellers. We mean no one any
harm" implored Carr, a note of desperation in his voice. He would show
them harm, all right, if he could just get his blaster. But, feeling
around, Carr knew he had been disarmed. "Isn't that true, Roger?" Carr
added.
"Yes, we are," Roger confirmed, putting in his two cents.
"What 'bout the savage?" The leader, the one called Rack, spit
on the ground in front of Ug. Ug looked up, murder in his eyes. "He a
mute?"
"Rah!" growled Ug. He wasn't in the mood for polite
conversation.
"We're still working him over on the alphabet," said Carr,
tactfully putting his body between Ug and Rack. Carr gave Rack a
sheepish grin.
"Do you know the penalty for encroachment on private property?"
Rack said sternly. But he wasn't really concerned that they had
tresspassed; instead, he considered this an opportunity. There was a
wicked glint in his eyes, as if he had already formulated plans for his
captives.
"We didn't know this was private property," said Carr. "There
were no signs..."
"Because everyone knows," said Rack, daring to be contradicted.
"Except for strangers, and we hang them on sight. Take them!"
They were led, tied, across the desert. Carr noticed that Rack
carried Carr's blaster and the gas gun they had appropriated from Bane.
He also noticed that the horsemen were armed. He recognized them--
projectile weapons. Guns and bullets.
It was a short walk into town. The party had actually been quite
close to it--it had lain just over a line of tall sand dunes to the
north. Roger studied the one story wooden houses that lay along the
dusty road. They looked primitive, and yet superior to the town they
had come across in the previous trial. For these houses were painted,
and they seemed of better build than the houses of the previous town.
There were horsemen everywhere, and many pedestrians, and the whole
scene looked quite familiar to Roger--it resembled America's old West.
He said as much to Carr.
"Look! The saloon, the cowboys, the horses, the gunslingers;
it's your typical western town of the mid to late 1800's."
"Earthman, I'm not so conversant with Earth history."
"Well, the 1800's were a time of-"
"Quiet, prisoners!" said Rack, brandishing his six shooter as
they dismounted. "I can take you to the courthouse or the morgue--it's
your choice!"
They were brought to a single story brick building. Rack's men
untied them. They found themselves in a combination courthouse and
jail. The place was filthy. Roger hoped they wouldn't be there very
long. Ug wondered when they would be fed.
"What's it about, Rack?" said the sheriff, as the prisoners were
herded in. Rack had a brief but private conversation with the sheriff.
While they talked the sheriff eyed the prisoners. Then he started
chuckling.
This did not look encouraging to Carr.
When Rack was done, the sheriff had a merry laugh. "Tresspassing
on Rack's property, eh? Well, you'll hang and hang high! Enos, put'em
in the lockup." The captives were taken to the adjacent cells.
Carr locked eyes with Rack, revealing something adamant, even
dangerous, sparkling in his eyes. Rack easily matched his stare, and
grinned. Then the horseman turned and left with his men.
Clang! The metal grill slammed shut. They had been tossed into
a large cell with other prisoners. Roger slumped down on the cement
floor. Prisoners again! It seemed to be their fate.
Carr looked around. Unlike Roger, he was too busy analyzing
their situation to wallow in self-pity. This civilization was
definitely more advanced than the one they had just left, Bane's
technological tricks aside. Could they be moving forward in time?
Roger glanced dispiritedly around the cell. The walls were
constructed of a crude unfinished limestone. There was a primitive
sink on one side and a row of double bunk beds on the other. And the
place was incredibly dirty. If Roger had been in his right mind he
never would have sat down on the stain ridden floor. But he was tired,
and all his energy had been sapped from him. Roger's eyes focused;
suddenly, he found himself viewing a fellow prisoner, a mean looking
unshaven prisoner in a corner. They were not alone in the cell.
Suddenly Roger was afraid. Time to look away, quickly. He
shifted his glance.
But it was too late. "What're you staring at?" said the man. He
fixed Roger with a wicked look, causing Roger to reflexively recoil.
"Nothing!" Roger chirped. "I was just looking around, honest!"
"Squeak, squeak, my little mouse!" said the man, and he chuckled.
But his mirth turned to a snarl as he barked, "Who're you?"
Roger gulped. "Roger Barton."
"What're you doing here, Roger Barton? Your Momma sent you
packing?"
Roger, disregarding the allusion to his Momma, replied "We, my
friends and I, were taken by Rack for infringing on his private
property, which looked like empty desert. It was really quite an
understandable mistake-"
The man laughed. "That's a good one! Rack owns everything
around here! This town, the farms, and all the people in'm! That's
the standard routine. You'll see, he'll take you, and you'll labor in
his employ, and he'll work y'all to the bone, till you collapse, and
waste away."
"Doesn't anyone stand up to him?"
"Stand up? Stand up? Harr harr! The only ones who stand up to
Rack quickly lie down! He can crush men's skulls with his hands, 'tis
said. And quick he is; never has he lost a gunfight challenge. Though
once he took on the Sanasher brothers, all four of them, and they hit
him, once or twice it seemed; but old Rack didn't act hurt, he just
gunned them all down, and went about his business."
So Rack was the master of this region. They were all just pawns
in the horseman's game. But maybe Roger could recruit an ally.
Swallowing his hope, he said "What's your name?"
"Killyu."
"Killyu?"
The stranger jumped out of the corner, and grabbed Roger by the
collar. "What you say, little mouse?"
"Nothing! Not a word!" Roger squeaked. He quickly glanced
around. Ug had fallen asleep. And Carr seemed to be looking away.
The stranger towered over Roger, still holding him. He took a
measure of Roger. Good, he thought, this little mouse could be
intimidated. Time for some fun. Raising his free hand into a fist, he
said "I don't reckon so. I think you need a lesson."
Carr had been watching the entire encounter without even the
slightest thought of interfering. Carr strongly believed that people
should fight their own battles, and he was frankly quite disgusted by
Roger's meek attitude. But this was going too far. Standing up, Carr
said, "Put him down. Now." His voice was quiet and even.
But the bully detected a certain firmness behind Carr's tone
which made him pause. Releasing Roger's collar, he turned to face this
unexpected challenge.
"You say something?" said the bully.
"Be quiet and sit down," said Carr, his hands dangling freely by
his sides.
"Oh, is that how it is?" said the bully, turning to Roger as if
to say something. Then, in a swift move, he swivelled around, aiming a
punch at Carr's midsection.
Only Carr wasn't there. He had pivoted, allowing the arm to go
past him. As the bully's momentum carried him forward, Carr delivered
a quick punch to the body and head, in a smooth one-two motion. The
bully cried out as the force of the blows sent him crashing against a
wall. He slowly slumped to the ground, his face bloody, his eyes
filled with hatred.
"Yes, that is how it is," said Carr.
"Thanks, Carr," said Roger, genuinely grateful, although a little
perturbed by the violence. Roger was starting to realized that
accomodation did not always work; sometimes it was necessary to defend
one's self. "But where did you learn to fight like that?"
"Four years of Agrillian Tac Defense Training," said Carr.
Stooping down, he shook Ug on the shoulder, waking him up. "Ug, you
think you can bend one of these bars? Give it a try."
Ug responded affirmatively. He grabbed a bar, and started to
twist. Roger's eyes widened as the bar started to move. But the noise
of the metal bending created a horrible screeching sound, which
instantly alerted the guards.
"Well, it was worth a try," said Carr, giving their suspicious
jailors a sheepish grin.
"Ug," Ug commented.
"I wonder how this place ties in with Bane's domain," Carr said.
"This locale is obviously a technological leap over the village of the
other region." He tapped the bars for emphasis.
Ug scratched his head. So many big words! Tech... no...log...
"Bane was advanced enough," Roger said.
"Good point," said Carr. "But he was the master of the first
trial, and entitled to live a little better than the natives. I'll bet
that as we progress from trial to trial that the trial zones will
become progressively more advanced, technologically."
"I was thinking much the same thing," said Roger.
"But the thing that really puzzles me is this: who possesses the
Cube, and why is it being given away? Is the possessor really willing
to give it away, if we pass these trials? It doesn't make sense.
People who have power rarely just give it up." And it troubled Carr
mightily. What guarantee was there that even if they passed all the
trials, the Cube possessor would simply give it up?
"Well, maybe they don't think like you do," said Roger.
"Or maybe no one is meant to survive the trials," said Carr
softly. "But where do you fit into this? Why are you necessary?"
"I don't feel necessary," said Roger. "I don't even want this
Cube thing."
"What's so special about you?" said Carr again.
"He's Momma's boy," croaked the bully from the far wall.
Carr just looked at him. He flinched, turning away.
They were silent for a time.
"Carr?"
"Hm?"
"Why do you want the Cube?"
Carr looked at Roger with surprise.
"I mean, you never really explained...."
"Isn't it obvious? Even to an Earthman? Haven't I explained
what the Cube is?"
"Sure, sure, it's great power," said Roger, sick of hearing about
it. "But why do you want it?"
Carr laughed. "Why do I want it? To have the ability to have
anything in the galaxy? To go anywhere, do anything, have anything I
want? To be on Forfloti before the Grand Library was destroyed? To
command the most powerful spacefleet in the known galaxy? To be able,
in a wink of an eye, to wipe out the marauders once and for all?
Earthman, the question isn't why do I want it; the question is why you
don't want it!"
"Why? Whatever would I do with it?" Roger said, thinking a
moment. "Besides spiriting myself home, I suppose."
"Roger, Roger the little thinker. He of little ambition. Has
your life been so small and meaningless? Have you never dreamed?"
Roger flinched. "All right, Mr. Alien Know it All, what are you
going to do with the Cube?"
"Haven't you been listening? Whatever I like."
"That's no answer." said Roger. "Power, for the sake of power."
"Ain't no other kind," said Carr.
A short time later Rack and his men returned. Carr grinned,
showing mock surprise. "You're back? Weren't visiting hours over long
ago?"
Rack leaned close to Carr. He stood so close that only the bars
separated them. Face impassive, he said, "You won't be smiling soon.
If you think you're going to have a quiet stay in a safe jailhouse,
you're quite mistaken."
Carr didn't flinch. He listened, unblinkingly. Then he took a
step back, and clapped, laughing. "Not bad, cement face. If you put a
little more inflection in your voice, and moved your eyebrows a little,
you'd almost be intimidating. You must practice a lot in front of the
mirror."
Rack wasn't pleased. Adjusting his hat, he turned away. "Boys,
time for the trial."
Roger was wondering just what that meant when he and his
companions were let out of their cell and escorted to the adjacent
courtroom.
The courtrom was heavily guarded--by Rack's men. They entered
just as the judge was disposing of a case. "Armitt Ottar, the court
finds you guilty of obstructing justice. You are hereby sentenced to
five years on the chain gang. Parole in four. Merciful is justice."
Wham! The gavel banged down. "Next case."
Ug, Carr, and Roger were herded forward. "Yes?" said the judge.
"These strangers were trespassing on private land, my private
land, your honor," said Rack.
"Very well," said the judge. "I hereby find the accused guilty,
and I pass sentence-"
"Whoa, just a minute, your honor!" said Carr.
"Yes?" said his honor.
"We haven't been given a chance to give our side of the story?"
The judge sighed. It had been a long day, and there were over a
dozen cases to dispose of before the afternoon was done. "Well?" he
said, obviously impatient.
"Yes?" said Carr, not quite sure he was being given permission to
speak.
"What is your side of the story?"
"Well, you see, judge, we weren't trespassing on private property
at all!"
"No?" The judge was clearly skeptical
"No! We were out in the middle of the desert!"
The judge cleared his throat, and gave Carr a stare. "Lying is a
hanging offense in this town!"
Probably only one of many hanging offenses, thought Carr.
"We're telling the truth!" Roger cried.
Perhaps his pathetic desperation touched something in the judge.
For the judge paused, and for the first time actually seemed to be
listening to what they said.
"Rack?" said the judge.
Rack had to play this carefully. The judge, while open to Rack's
influence, still exercised some independence. "Judge, you know about
my claims on them lands-"
The judge squirmed uncomfortably. "Rack, you know that was never
arbitrated awful official like. I have no choice but to find for the
defendants."
"Judge."
"Yes, Rack?"
"You're forgetting about precedent. Here, examine this legal
memorandum." In a lightning flash, Rack had drawn his six shooter.
The barrel pointed coldly at the judge. Everyone in the courtroom
froze.
What kind of man was this, Roger wondered, who could so openly
intimidate a judge? Was there no one who would, or could, stand up to
him?
The judge perspired, fingering his collar. "Well, this is
considering things in a new light. I hereby find the defendants
guilty... of criminal mischief."
"Sentence?" Rack inquired, gun still leveled.
"Ten years, hard labor."
"And?" Rack spoke again.
The judge seemed to sense what Rack wanted. "Sentence to be
carried out in Rack's custody... seeing how he is the injured party."
The pistol spun about, landing in Rack's holster. "Mighty fine
judication, your honor," he said. Then he turned to Carr. Stepping
towards him, he said, "You're not smiling anymore, stranger."
And for once Carr was at a loss of words.
They were escorted to Rack's ranch. As they were led, tied by
the hands, Roger whispered, "I realized justice was a little rough in
the wild west, but nothing like this."
"Do you still insist that this is a replica of some period of the
past on your miserable little planet?" said Carr.
"Yes, I do. It resembles old America in many ways."
The ranch was grand, a mighty structure that was the largest
building that they had seen thus far on Clashik. It was four stories
tall, and had fifteen windows or more on a a side; and Roger figured
that it must contain many rooms. Over the entrance hung the emblem of
a leering buzzard. Animal pens seem to extend in all directions from
the house, as far as the eye could see. There Roger, Carr, and Ug were
put to work tending animals, fetching water, and other farm chores.
Other "convicts" also served on the estate. Carr kept his eyes open
for any possibility of escape. But they were always sheparded by
several of Rack's cronies, who were armed with shotguns or pistols.
At the end of the day the three of them were bone tired. They
were given a quick meal of gruel, and then herded to a large bunkhouse,
where they were assigned adjacent beds. Roger collapsed into his cot.
Carr groaned, sitting down. Even Ug was sore.
Roger almost immediately dropped off to sleep. He had nearly
reached the threshold of unconsciousness, when he felt something
shaking him. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw in the dim light that it
was a hand. Roger looked up a little. The hand was connected to an
arm. What was this leading to? Roger opened his eyes a little more.
It looked like Carr's arm. It was Carr!
"Snap out of it," Carr said, whispering.
"What do you want?" said Roger groggily.
"Escape. Are you interested?"
Roger sat up. He was. "Now?"
"No," said Carr. "We have to wait for the right opportunity.
Have you learned anything, noticed anything that could be useful?"
"No."
"Well, have you talked to anyone?"
"No, although I tried. They're a mean lot, and not given to
talking. They grunt a lot, but not much talking."
Carr sighed. His communicative skills were superior to Roger's,
and yet he too had found out little from their fellow workers. He had
specifically inquired about geographical features, half expecting to
find some feared landmark akin to the Line of Death. But no such luck.
The locales here knew next to nothing of local geography, and were even
less interested in talking to Carr, who was obviously a stranger.
People here seemed to possess an ingrown hostility to strangers. When
the guards were not attentive Carr was forced to use a bit of gentle
persuasion to obtain what little information he had. But he could not
find any obvious location that they should be heading for.
Carr had also pressed for information about Rack. There he had
found out a little more. Rack, as he had already surmised, was the
most powerful man in town. As they had observed, even the law bended
to his will. His ranch was prosperous, and, due to the minimal cost of
labor, turned a neat profit. And yet Rack himself was a mystery. He
had been running the ranch for as long as anyone could remember. But,
aside from his legendary ruthlessness, no one seemed to know that much
about him. This wasn't too much of a surprise to Carr; after all, he
hardly expected Rack to socialize with his captives. Still, something
seemed strange about him... Carr couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Yet.
"So what are we going to do?" Roger asked.
"You always ask that," said Carr.
"You never answer."
Carr sighed, and crept back into bed.
"See, did it again," Roger hissed.
At the entrance to the slave barracks, Rack straightened up, and
walked away. He couldn't have possibly heard the conversation between
the two; he had been much too far out of normal hearing range.
Another morning brought another day of work. After a hearty bowl
of gruel and water the workers were off to their assigned tasks. This
time Roger split up from Carr. He was assigned to a group of workers
who were digging a long continuous ditch. Roger had no great joy to
monotonous physical tasks; but what really irritated him was the work
detail behind him that was filling up the trench, just as Roger and the
workers with him were digging it! Roger wondered what the purpose of
this exercise was. He certainly couldn't see any rational reason for
it.
"Come on, keep it going," said a guard, who had spied Roger
pausing.
"Why do you care how fast we dig if they're just going to fill it
all up again?" he asked.
The guards' ears perked up. They slowly closed in on Roger.
The guard who had first spoke looked down, as if he had noticed
something generally insignificant but marginally curious. "What?"
"Why do you have us digging holes and filling them up again?"
asked Roger, wondering if the man had a hearing problem.
The guard pointed the long barrel of his shotgun down at Roger's
nose. "What?"
"Dig. I dig," said Roger, grabbing his shovel.
The guards, apparently satisfied, returned to their former
positions. But Roger was still appalled. Such a waste of manpower!
And he hated the earth. Now he was hip deep in it, the murky
brown mud. It smelled, of course, and he carried the stench wherever
he went; a solid inch of it had caked to Roger's shoes yesterday, and
once it had calcified it proved unremovable. Roger had tried to chip
away at it the previous night, but to no avail. And now he was up to
his waist in the stuff.
The filling detail was catching up with Roger's digging detail,
partially because filling was easier than digging, but also because
Roger was a member of the digging detail, and his enthusiasm was
flagging.
Roger heard the guards talking. "I'll bet they make it in five
minutes." said one.
"Naw, be at least ten; look at the buggers work," said another."
"Bet?" "Bet?" "Bet!" they cried. There was fierce muttering
for several minutes. Then, a guard spoke to the prisoners. "Listen
up," he drawled, his Clashik twang sounding gruff. "The group's that's
digging'm is doing too slow. If the filling group catches up to you,
you all have to hit the pig. You, the fillers, if you don't catch up
with the diggers in... five minutes, then it's you who gets to hit the
pig." And the guards laughed.
"Hit the pig?" said Roger. "What on Clashik does that mean?" No
one answered him. Suddenly, they were all shoveling madly. Some
digging, others filling. Roger, the last on the digging detail, could
see the fillers closing from behind.
"Dig!" his fellow prisoners screamed at him.
Roger picked up his shovel, started digging. He wished Carr were
here to advise him. The diggers were working at a feverish pace, but
the fillers were working even quicker. Neither group seemed to have
much ambition to hit a pig, whatever that meant.
"Dig! Dig! Dig!" yelled the guards, laughing hysterically.
Well, they were digging all right, but Roger, a white collar worker,
was not in top form.
Their lead over the fillers was steadily eroding. It was only a
matter of time. How much time was left? Roger shoveled and shoveled,
until his arms started to ache. He looked over his shoulder. They
were only inches away from him! Surely five minutes had passed!
Well, if the fillers did catch up to the diggers, Roger, being at
the end of the line, would know it first. Finally, when it seemed
almost as if the fillers were on the verge of winning, and Roger's arms
were about to give out, one of the guards yelled "Stop!"
Roger gave a sigh of relief. They had avoided a horrible fate,
whatever hitting the pig had entailed. Roger was glad he wasn't going
to find out.
But why were all his fellow diggers suddenly cursing Roger out,
being mean to him? Why weren't they elated? Roger looked over his
shoulder. Into the eyes of the lead worker of the filler party. They
had caught up. The diggers had lost.
"Where are they takingus?" Roger asked his disgruntled fellow
workers. But the only replies were jeers and half hearted swipes and
backs of hands.
They were brought to one of the animal pens. It was, Roger
noted, just oozing with the brown mud that he found so unappealing.
Roger looked at himself. He was already covered in it. He wondered if
he would be able to peel it off his hands tonight.
In the center of the wet mud was a pig. It was a big critter, at
least several hundred pounds, and rolls of fat just hung from it. Or
at least, that was how it appeared to Roger. The pig was lying down,
and was nearly snout deep in the mud, and it was difficult to tell
where the pig ended and the mud began. This was the pig they were
supposed to hit, Roger thought. To what end?
"Bos, Veet, cover the other end of the pen," directed one of the
guards, ensuring that none of the digging detail bolted over a fence.
Armed guards circled the rim of the pen. "What's happening?"
Roger cried. What were the guards going to do? Were the prisoners to
be massacred? The digging party was huddled in fright.
A guard smiled. "For the benefit of newcomers to ye'all sport, I
will give a brief introooduction." He drawled out that last word, to
emphasis the sarcastic nature of his remarks. He knew that Roger was
new here, and the guard wanted him to fully appreciate his situation.
"The object, of this sport, is to hit, punch, and kick, this pig.
Until it is dead." A chuckle. "The boss likes his meat good and
tenderized."
Roger swallowed. Fear had turned to disgust. "You want us to
beat up the pig? That's it? And what if we decide not to attack this
poor defenseless animal?"
The guard did not seem miffed by Roger's sudden combativeness.
"The pig might get some indigestion." He smiled, but his face was
hardening. "If, within sixty seconds yonder animal is not dead, I will
explode the bomb it swallowed for breakfast." Suddenly the guard
produced a black box in his hands. A small antenna projected from it.
And mounted on the center of it was a small red button. "And you won't
enjoy being around when it's rainin' bacon."
Many thoughts swirled in Roger's mind at once. How could a
remote control detonation device exist in this primitive era? Would
they be able to kill a pig in a minute? Would the detonation kill
them?
"Will the detonation kill us?" he asked timidly. The guards got
a laugh from this.
Surprisingly, it was one of the workers who replied, "No, but we
will smell very bad."
Roger suddenly wished Carr were here. He would find
a way to put a stop to this dastardly sport!
The guard who had spoken looked at his timepiece. "You have one
minute from... NOW!" The prisoners started to beat up the pig.
Kicking, hitting, swearing, they surrounded the animal, bashing into
it.
But Roger took no part. He would not participate in Rack's foul
schemes.
The prisoners wre hammering on the pig furiously. The pig went
down under a myriad of blows. But the thing was still alive. They
stomped on it, they pummeled it, they ground their fists into its
blubbery hide. The pig tried to get up, to escape from its tormentors,
but to no avail.
"He ain't done yet guys," taunted a guard. "Five seconds to go."
And yet Roger was not participating. While the others were
getting their hands and feet bloodied by their cruel assault, Roger
just stood there, waiting for whatever would come. He didn't believe
in cruelty to animals, and would not perform for anyone's amusement.
"Three... two..." The guard's hand closed on the activator. The
prisoners attacked harder than ever, but the pig, though suffering and
squealing, splattering up mud with its hind legs, seemed in no danger
of discorporating. Roger could almost imagine the explosion, which
would send bloody pieces of bacon splattering all over them....
His eyes widened as he saw the guard's hand starting to put
pressure on the button.
"Halt!" cried a voice. The workers looked up. The guard's hand
went limp, reluctantly, as the hand moved away from the trigger.
"I want him!" said the voice, indicating Roger.
The sun was in Roger's eyes. He squinted, and could barely make
out Rack's tall imposing figure. As he came closer he saw that hard
face, the steel eyes, the perfectly combed hair that seemed impervious
to the desert winds. The steel emblem of the smiling buzzard, perched
on the front of Rack's mighty black hat, glinted harshly in the morning
light.
"I want him, and I don't want him smelling like pork rinds
neither," said Rack.
The guard at the trigger broke the silence. "Get on out, you
heard the boss!"
Roger slowly emerged from the pen, and approached Rack. Behind
him were Carr and Ug.
Carr greeted him. "Glad to see us, buddy?"
Roger looked back at the pen. The prisoners stood petrified,
unsure what their fate would be.
"What're we do with them now, Rack?" drawled a guard.
Tex considered. "Fair is fair. Play the game out."
There was a loud explosion Chunks of pork went flying. Roger
quickly looked the other way.
They were brought to Rack's office. It was austere enough.
There was a simple wooden desk, and behind that a wooden swivel chair.
Shelves, stacked with papers, lined the back walls. On a side wall was
a large version of the smiling buzzard emblem.
Chairs were brought in, and the prisoners were forced to sit.
Then Rack came in, and sat behind his desk. "You can go now," he said
to the guards. The door slammed shut. Roger, Ug, and Carr were alone
with him.
"Now, who are ya'all?" Rack asked. "Where do you come from,
Roger?"
"How do you know my name?" Roger asked suspiciously.
Rack turned on his charm. Giving a broad smile, he spoke in a
soothing voice. "I hear you guys talking, I got some ears." He
winked. "I hear some-all fantastic things, I might add."
"Such as?" Carr asked.
Rack's expression suddenly turned cold. "T'warn't talking to
you. Be silent." Then, his attention turned back to Roger, and his
voice grew warm again. "Where do ya'all come from?"
Roger sighed. "All right, I'll tell you. We're travellers, from
another land."
"Are ya'all from one of them expe-ditions?"
How did Rack know about the expeditions? "Are you familiar with
advanced technology?" Carr asked.
Rack gave him a murderous look. "Next time you open your trap
w'out permission will be the last." He seemed to only want to talk to
Roger, as if he knew that Roger was the less sophisticated, the more
pliable, and the easiest to coax information from.
He again turned back to Roger, erasing any sign of annoyance.
Rack was still focusing on him, and for good reason. The barbarian
didn't look at all articulate, and Carr, well, Carr had that cockiness
about him that Rack distinctly didn't like. Not that it mattered; all
three would shortly be killed, if they were of no further use. "You
from an expe-diton?" he asked again.
"Yes. I mean no. Well, not really," Roger paused for a minute.
How to explain, and how much to explain?
Roger really didn't know what to tell Rack. He felt a sense of
deja vu; it was just like being interrogated by Bane. If Rack thought
Roger could be used to get the Cube of Power, he would use Roger, like
a tool, for Rack's own ends.
Carr was thinking much the same thing. He also thought of the
comparison with Bane. Could Rack be the guardian of the second trial?
It probably wasn't a bad guess.
Roger cleared his throat. "We were in a spaceship, chased by an
enemy warship," he said, wondering if any of this was beyond Rack's
comprehension. "We came to this planet in the hopes of evading our
pursuit. We were pulled down to this planet, like the other
expeditions."
Carr marvelled. The lie was so well told, that even he could
believe it.
But evidently Rack was not convinced. "Why ya'all come here if
ya'all knew what happened to yonder other expe-ditions who came here?"
"Um, well, uh-"
"Came lookin' for the Cube of Power, didn't you?" said Rack.
It was all out in the open now.
Roger looked at Carr, hoping for some aid. But Carr was keeping
carefully silent. Roger said, "Well, in a sense-"
Rack banged his fist on the desk. "In a sense! In a sense! If
you lie again you-all will'nt have anything left t'sense with!" His
face grew menacing. He focused those hard cold black eyes on Roger.
When Roger looked into them, he saw no sign of life, no sign of
humanity.
"Ok," Roger chirped.
"Well, you ain't been successful. Neither any of the other expe-
ditions who passed through here." Rack reclined in his chair. "You
work for me now. Do ya hear?"
"Yes, Rack," Roger mumbled.
Rack settled back into his chair, now that dominance had been
established.
"Now, there's a matter of talents." If they had none, they were
not long for this world. "You probably know some things that the
average Joe here don't even think of. That's gonna change. Any of you
know any science?"
No one spoke for a moment.
"Well?"
"I don't," said Roger. "I'm a bookkeeper." And, he didn't add,
he wished he were home. Bookkeeping.
"And I assume the savage don't know nothing," said Rack. "What
about you, smarty?" And he turned his piercing gaze towards Carr.
Carr stared back, unflinching. "I reckon I do."
"Really? That's good, that's very good. I'll send you to work
with Professor Krenay. We don't often get you fellows passing by."
But then he leaned forward. "But if I get indications, any
indications, that you know nothing, or you're stalling, or you're
plotting against me, we'll find a bomb that's just right for you-all to
swallow. Am I clear?"
Carr nodded.
Ug stirred. Had someone just said Pro-fes-sor? That name was
known to him.
"Very well then," said Rack. "Savage, you rejoin your work
team."
"And what about me?" said Roger, almost afraid to ask.
"I'm afraid you're extraneous, my friend," said Rack, almost
apologetically. Roger wasn't any good as a manual laborer; he had no
science talent; therefore he could be disposed of without any loss.
"Wait! I can do things! I know things!"
Rack considered. "Very well then, what is this?"
'This' turned out to be a long barreled weapon that Rack produced
from behind his desk. Roger recognized it immediately; it was the gas
gun he had been carrying when he had been caught.
Rack said, "It looks like a weapon, to be sure. But when I pull
the trigger, nothing happens, nothing shoots out. Is it out of
ammunition?"
"May I see it?" asked Carr, trying to sound as if he didn't care,
as if this were all one big academic discussion.
Rack passed it over, eying them warily. But what harm could a
gun that didn't fire cause him? Carr immediately aimed it, firing at
Rack's head. He heard a faint hiss of gas releasing.
But nothing happened. Rack just sat there, looking impatient.
He hadn't even realized he'd been shot. "Well?" he said, creaking
backwards and forwards in his chair.
This wasn't working, Carr realized. Time for Plan B. "Now, Ug!"
Carr yelled.
Ug slammed across the desk, crashing into Rack. His strong hands
throttled the cowboy.
Carr hurriedly grabbed his chair and threw it against a side
window. Glass flew everywhere. "Come on, come on!" he shouted at
Roger.
They escaped through the window. From the corner of his eye
Roger saw Ug sailing across the room, hitting a far wall. How could
Rack be so strong?
"What about Ug?" Roger cried.
"There's nothing we can do for him now," said Carr. "He's not
coming. Come on!" That last he screamed. Grabbing Roger, he started
running.
They were not immediately spotted. The general alarm was slow to
raise and even slower to spread, in light of the fact that most of
Rack's men were on guard duty in the fields. After ducking and dodging
for several minutes, Roger and Carr successfully made it to a desolate
edge of Rack's estate, where the front edge of tall sand dunes were
sloping forward. As they put a few dunes between them and the ranch,
Roger puffed, out of breath. They halted for a quick break.
"We should have stayed. We could have overpowered Rack and used
him as a hostage," said Roger, worrying about Ug.
"Use some common sense! You saw him throw Ug across the room!
You saw that the gas gun didn't have any effect on him!"
"What do you mean?" Roger frowned; he had thought that the gas
gun simply had been out of ammo, or gas, or whatever.
Carr shook him. "Rack is a robot, just like Bane, you idiot!"
"But how-"
Carr motioned him to be quiet. He quickly darted his head over
the top of the dune. "They're milling about everywhere. We've got to
move, or else they'll find us."
"We've got to go back for Ug!" said Roger, just as fiercely.
Carr just looked at him. Carr's strongest instinct was self-
preservation. Roger's strongest instinct was sentiment. Carr sighed.
Maybe he could explain it in a way the Earthman could understand.
"Look, if we get caught, Ug's effort will have been for nothing.
Do you want his sacrifice to be for nothing? If we go back, we most
certainly will be caught. We're both unarmed, we don't know the lay of
the land, Rack and his men are armed, and now that the alarm's raised
we'd be spotted before we got halfway to the ranch house."
"But we just can't leave Ug behind!"
He payed no attention to the facts, Carr thought. He was totally
oblivious to their own personal safety. But then Carr mulled over
other considerations. They were still no closer to finishing the
second trial. If Rack was the guardian of the second trial the key to
escaping the trial must be somewhere nearby, perhaps on the ranch.
Carr needed more information. Wait, didn't Carr mention a Professor
Krenay, a scientist? A scientist, here on Clashik? A talk with him
would be useful, perhaps even essential. Maybe they would have to go
back after all.
"I'll tell you what," said Carr. "I have a plan."
Roger listened.
"That's a terrible plan," Roger said.
Roger, huffing and puffing, made it back to the ranch. He was
immediately spotted by several guards. "Run, Carr, go!" Roger yelled,
looking into the distance. He held his hands up in the universal
signal of surrender as the guards closed in on him.
Roger was brought back to Rack's office. "I've been waiting,"
said Rack calmly as his henchmen dumped Roger in a chair
uncerimoniously. "You can go," he said. The guards departed. "And
don't bother to try the window route again; I'm quicker than I look."
"Robots can look like anything," said Roger.
"So you know," said Rack, grinning. "Pretty smart, for an
Earther."
"Are all trial guardians robots?" Roger wondered.
Rack smiled thinly, not answering.
"I don't suppose your men know you're a machine."
"No, but they know you're a raving lunatic," said Rack. "Making
up stories that I'm filled with gears and wires will only fall on deaf
ears."
"You may silence me and Ug, but at least Carr got away!"
"Indeed. You sound almost happy to have given your life for his.
I don't doubt that he wouldn't have done the same for you."
A small doubt nibbled on the edges of Roger's mind. But he
dismissed it. "So you're the guardian of the second trial," Roger
said, almost conversationally. Carr had told him to find out what
information he could.
Rack nodded.
"This planet, it's really divided up into different areas, each
with different technology," said Roger.
"It won't do you any good to know, but it's not simply a matter
of different zones of technology; these are different time zones.
Clashik has different segments of time spread out across the planet."
"I see," said Roger. What else had Carr told him to ask? Oh,
yes. "And once we get through all five trials, we get the Cube of
Power."
"Not really," said Rack. "You see, you've failed this one."
"That's what Bane said. Did you know Bane? Or are all the
trial guardians kept apart?" Roger imagined, almost comically, of a
convention of trial guardians sipping champagne and discussing their
trade.
But Rack would only say, "Bane is only a primative version of
what I am."
"But his powers-"
"Were evidently not enough to stop you," said Rack. "My powers
are all up here, and they are formidible." He tapped his skull.
"And how would we have gone on to the next trial? Since it's too
late, you won't mind telling," said Roger. He held his breath. Carr
had stressed that this was the most important question.
Rack laughed. "Just follow my footsteps, just follow my
footsteps." He kept chuckling. "That's enough questions, Earthman.
Only too plainly have I seen what you have been doing."
How did he know I was from Earth, Roger thought.
"Oh, yes, I know all about you," said Rack. "You are the one
slated to recover the Cube of Power. I've gotten the word. Don't try
to deny it. Just think what a priviledge and an honor it will be to
eliminate a designated one such as yourself."
Roger started to get the shakes. "Why do you do this? What is
the purpose of all these trials?"
For a moment Rack softened. "To weed out the weak, the
incapable, the unworthy. Only the finest, the best, will succeed."
Well, Roger thought, he obviously wasn't in that category. Or
was he? "But, but if I am the designated one then the Cube possessor
will be angry-"
Rack laughed again. "The designated one? Only the latest of
many. Be clear that the masters do not care about you; when you fail,
they will simply pick another." And then he stopped laughing, but that
cruel smile was still present. "For you see, the masters have given me
the task of eliminating you and all of your kind!"
Rack whistled loudly. Several guards popped in. "Our guest must
be tired. Put him in the chair."
"And the other one?" asked one of Rack's men.
"Ummm, call off the search, but double the patrols in the ranch
tonight, just in case. Probably he's long gone by now. Inform the
sheriff he may be heading for town. But hopefully the desert will take
care of him."
Roger was taken away.
They took him to a large cell. There he noticed several strange
looking chairs. And sitting in one of them was Ug! The barbarian
strained against straps that held him down; but they were too strong.
"Ug!" cried Roger. The savage was still alive!
"Rog-ger," said Ug plaintively. He missed his friend, and didn't
like being tied up; but, more importantly, he was also hungry, and was
starting to wonder when he would get some food.
The guards forced Roger into a nearby chair and strapped him in.
Roger noticed electrical wiring touching the arm rests, which
themselves were made of metal. Roger had a very nasty suspicion just
what sort of chair this was.
"Ug, I think we're going to be electricuted!" Roger cried.
"These are electric chairs!"
Ug sensed the alarm tone. But, not knowing what el-ec-tric-it-y
was, he could not muster as much concern. Ug wondered if their guards
would feed them.
A man entered the cell. He was wearing ordinary civilian
clothing, but his apparel was partially obscured by a longish white lab
coat. Two guards stood at the cell door.
"Oh dear oh dear," said the man.
Ug looked up at the man, the clear light of recognition in his
barbarian eyes.
Rack came into Roger's vision. "Well, Professor Krenay, this is
your big chance to test these electric chairs."
The Professor sweated nervously. "I'm sorry I ever consented to
build them in the first place."
Rack laughed. Pathetic rebellion actually amused him. "But you
had no choice, remember? Nor will you while you remain in my employ.
But I'm forgetting my obligations as host. Earthman, Savage, meet
Professor Krenay, survivor of what you call the seventh expedition. He
is the creator of the instrument of your destruction." Rack had
dropped the accent; no longer was there even an attempt to pretend.
"Pro-fes-sor," grunted Ug.
"Bigum!" said the Professor. "Good to see you again. I'm, ah,
sorry about the circumstances." Taking a deep breath, the Professor
said, "Rack, why must they be killed?"
Rack studied his servant. Earlier his disobedience had been
amusing, but now the Professor was questioning his orders, and in front
of his guards. "Because these are people who get in the way. People
who don't obey. Better be careful, Professor; you might fall into that
category one of these days."
"This is an electric chair," said Roger, half ask a question,
half as a statement.
The robot grinned. "Untested. But, if they work, I think
they'll be a big market for them. Hanging has been done so often that
it's lost its shock value. But think of it! Tomorrow morning, when
the first rays of light hits the Professor's... what was it... enhanced
solar reflector, the charge of electricity will fry you to death."
Donning his accent again, he tipped his hat, saying, "Well, it's been
nice knowing ya'all. Professor?"
"In a minute. I have to check the wiring. I was having trouble
with the conductors yesterday. You wouldn't want anything to go wrong,
would you?"
Rack showed a harder edge. "No, because then we'd have to hang
them, and if we had to hang'em, there'd be a third traitor hanging with
them." He left. But his guards remained behind at the cell entrance.
Roger was shivering so much that his teeth were chattering. He
looked down. Professor Krenay seemed busy checking the wiring on
Roger's chair.
"Quick," he whispered to Roger. "We don't have much time."
"Can you help us?" whispered Roger, hoping the guards, who were
out of line of sight, could not hear.
"I don't know. You see what Rack does to traitors."
"Hey, what's going on in there?" said one of the guards.
"Nothing, nothing," said the Professor. He whispered, "I don't
know. I'd be taking a terrible risk. I'd like to help, but I don't
see what I can do." Then, more loudly, "I must be going now.
Everything is prepared."
The Professor, obviously torn, departed, but not before he had
exchanged long glances with Ug. Roger hoped he would try to help them.
But the Professor hadn't even disconnected the wires leading to the
metal armrest. Roger would still receive a fatal shock when the
morning came.
It was a long night. Roger frequently imagined the solar
collector that the Professor built, perched on the top of the ranch,
waiting to convert the first rays of sunlight into a lethal charge.
Maybe, at first, it wouldn't be enough voltage to kill. But under the
burning morning sun Roger felt certain he and Ug would be electrocuted.
He wished that Ug could break the restraints and free them both.
But even if Ug could, there was still the cell door and those guards to
deal with. Besides, Roger saw, Ug had already been struggling for some
time, and had only gotten rope burns for his efforts.
As dawn approached and the chamber grew lighter, Roger's hopes
grew dim. He didn't think electricution was a particularly good way to
die; but then, Roger didn't particularly prefer any method of
execution. How many times in the past week had his life been put on
the line? How many different ways had he been threatened, harrassed,
taken prisoner, and sentenced to death? And yet, when put under the
shadow of doom yet again, Roger had not even begun to become jaded.
Roger didn't care about Clashik anymore; he didn't want to know
how or why these trials were put into place. The mystery was no longer
important to him in his remaining minutes. He just wanted to survive.
Would the Professor help them? Roger recognized that if they
tried to escape, and failed, the Professor would be executed as well.
It was a big risk for him to take. But he was Ug's friend, wasn't he?
Just how did he know Ug?
More importantly, where was Carr? He had promised to return, but
would he? Roger remembered how he insisted that they go back for Ug.
Could Carr have just sent him back to get rid of him? If Carr would
not come back for Ug, would he come back for Roger? Roger's doubts
began to grow.
Morning was coming, slowly but surely. A few rays of lights
penetrated the gloom. Did he imagine it? He felt a tingling sensation
on his arms where they were tied to the chair. He looked over at Ug.
Ug was showing no outward reaction, the brave soul!
Actually, Ug was showing no reaction because he was sleeping.
His slow barbarian mind had never really grasped the idea that he was
going to be executed, and so he dozed in blissful ignorance. He was
dreaming about roast mutton, actually.
The tingling in his arms suddenly felt as if they had ceased;
Roger wondered if his arms had simply grown used to it, and wondered if
the next thing he would feel would be a streak of voltage that would
fry his bones. Roger again admired Ug's calm exterior. There were
times when he wished he could be like Ug.
Curiously enough, Ug never wished to be like Roger.
At that moment of deep introspection Roger snapped to his senses.
The door to the cell smashed open, and one of the guards stumbled in,
senselessly sprawling to the ground. The second guard tried to draw
his gun, but was knocked off balance. From his line of sight Roger
could see their rescuer. It was Carr!
The second guard tripped Carr, and after that they were rolling
on the ground, deeply engaged in hand to hand combat. And then they
both rolled out of Roger's view. The sounds of meelee reached Roger's
ears. Who was winning?
Finally, there was a loud crunching sound, and then, for a
moment, nothing more. Roger could not see, but he heard footsteps
approaching him.
"So, ye'all thought ye could escape?" said a voice behind him.
A face popped right in front of Roger. It was Carr! "Howdy
pard, need a lift?" he smiled mischieviously.
"Don't ever do that to me again!" said Roger, as Carr rapidly
untied him.
"What? Rescue you?" said Carr innocently. Roger got up, and
stretched his sore limbs while Carr rapidly freed Ug. Ug, awoken by
the commotion, wondered when they would eat.
"Everything is going better than we planned," said Carr. "Here,
take this." He tossed Roger a pistol. Roger noted that Carr had one
of his own, plus a shotgun.
"Carr, how-"
"Got'm from a guard who didn't need'm. Questions later. We've
got to get out of here."
They stealthily made their way out into the daylight. They
couldn't see anything, but they heard the rapid sounds of weapons
discharging.
"I freed the prisoners, armed them," said Carr quickly. "Come
on, we've got to get to the rendezvous point."
In the confusion they made their way out of Rack's estate without
being hindered. All of Rack's men were busy putting down the
rebellion. They had almost reached the dunes when Roger caught sight
of someone hiding behind a dune, waiting in ambush for them.
"Carr, look out," said Roger, drawing his pistol. Roger hated
violence, and he had never used a gun before, but the exigency of the
situation had dulled his pacificism. And he desperately did not want
to be taken prisoner again.
Carr was quicker; he pushed Roger's gun arm down. "Look, it's
the Professor."
Greetings were exchanged, and they stopped to catch their breath
for a moment. Originally, they had planned for Roger to get captured,
so he could locate Ug, as well as squeeze some more information out of
Rack. Carr's task was to stir an uprising of the prisoners and, in the
confusion, kidnap the Professor. Carr's task was made easier by the
fact that the Professor was a prisoner too, and hardly a loyal subject
of Rack. When the Professor determined that Carr's plan had a
reasonable chance of success, he cast his lot in with them.
"That was a brave thing you did, Roger," said the Professor.
"Allowing yourself to be captured so you could rescue your friend."
Before Roger could offer some sort of modest reply, Carr
interrupted, "I think we'd better hold the self-congratulations hour at
a later date. I have the feeling that Rack will be wanting his prize
scientist back pretty badly."
"Not to mention us," said Roger.
"Then let's get moving."
They walked, being too fatigued to run for more than short
periods of time. But they walked quickly, virtually marching as they
trekked over the dunes. Carr took the point, scanning ahead of them.
Ug brought up the rear, diligently glancing behind them every few
seconds, watching for signs of pursuit.
The Professor hefted a shoulder pack. In addition to a pistol,
he carried as much provisions as he had managed to lay his hands on.
They wouldn't starve, at least not for a few days. Professor Krenay
had also brought along some electrical parts he had scavanged from his
lab.
"Where are we heading?" Roger wanted to know.
"Thataway," said Carr. Where could they go? Away from Rack's
estate was a good start.
"That's no help. Maybe we should go back to town." Roger had no
desire to spend the rest of his life in the hot desert.
"Maybe we should just give ourselves up. Or had you forgotten
who runs that town?"
"Maybe the prisoners overcame Rack and his men," said Roger,
trying to strike a hopeful tone.
"Possible, but I doubt it," said Carr. "I managed to arm only a
few of them, and Rack's men are better trained and better armed.
They'll be lucky, I think, if some of them get away. But they served
their purpose--we escaped, didn't we?"
Roger didn't like how Carr used other people as a diversion.
Carr knew just what Roger was thinking. "On the other hand, I
might not have armed any of them, none of them would've had any chance
of escape, and you'd be medium rare in that chair about now."
"Well, if we aren't heading back to town, where are we going? Do
you know where to go?"
"Nope," said Carr. "From what I gather, this whole place is
abandoned desert. Professor, you've been here a while. I was hoping
you might be able to tell us where to go to escape this trial. Is
there anyplace else to go in this region besides the town?"
The Professor shook his head. "There are other towns, but they
are just like these, under Rack's domination. I've heard of no other
places. I assumed this was the only cluster of civilization in this
zone."
"No landmarks? No forbidden zones?"
"None," said the Professor. He seemed certain. Carr simply
frowned, saying nothing.
After a time Carr judged they had come far enough that they could
risk a rest break. The mid afternoon sun was starting to wane as they
camped down at the bottom of a sand dune. The Professor distributed
pieces of bread to the party. They had to conserve what supplies they
had, for they did not know how long they would be journeying.
"How did you get here?" Carr asked. "Did you go across the Line
of Death?"
The Professor nodded. "Yes, although Bane almost caught us.
That illusionary curtain was a good trick."
"You say 'us'. Who was with you?"
"I'd better start at the beginning." Taking off his spectacles,
the Professor drew a deep breath. "I was a member of what is probably
now referred to as the seventh expedition. I gather that any group of
ships approaching Clashik in recent times is called an expedition."
Carr sat up. "Wait a minute. Were you with Captain Croft?"
Ug perked his ears at the mere mention of that name.
"Yes," said the Professor. "I was on his flagship when it
crashed. I was his science officer."
"You're a civilian?" Carr inquired.
"The marauders exacted a heavy toll. Croft lost his science
officer at the Battle of Signus. When the fleet stopped off at the
science station on Ornarion, where I was stationed, Croft persuaded me
to join up." The Professor chuckled. "I was just a junior reservist
with a level two degree in mechaniscience. But Croft gave me a field
promotion to Half Commander."
"Level two? That's pretty impressive," said Carr seriously.
The Professor paused, obviously embarrassed, and he cleared his
throat. "Ah, yes, anyway, two months later, when we confronted the
marauder fleet at Lycus, we knew we had miscalculated. They
outnumbered and outgunned us by greater than three to one. But the
admiral in charge of our fleet insisted on attacking. His attack was
sound enough, but the odds were simply too great against us. We
started to take tremendous losses. It was only when the admiral's ship
was lost that command of the fleet fell to Croft. He was in command of
the most senior ship remaining in the fleet, the heavy cruiser
Parrywind , so he took over."
The Professor paused, as if wincing at some memory. "There
wasn't much left to take over. Nearly a quarter of the fleet had been
destroyed outright. Almost half were damaged to various degrees, and
some of these ships were crippled. Croft executed a feint, a clever
feint, drawing the enemy off, giving whatever ships that could the
opportunity to escape. But Croft's ruse did not work for very long,
and shortly thereafter we were vigorously pursued. We had a lead over
them but the marauders were slowly gaining on us. Croft knew that we
would never survive to rendezvous with any allied fleets. He minutely
inspected the star charts, looking for something, looking for
anything."
"It didn't seem that we could reach an allied base in time, and
we didn't have very much left to fight with. The Captain knew we would
be defeated very quickly in another engagement. And then he saw it:
Clashik. It was just close enough to reach before the marauders
overtook us. The crew was aghast, of course, but they came to realize
that there was no other choice."
"The rest, I suppose, is history. We lured the marauders to
Clashik, and they were sucked in. To my knowledge none of them
survived the impact. Most of our remaining fleet escaped, but our
ship, Croft's ship, the last in our formation as we sped away from
Clashik, was pulled in. A number of us tried to escape in the ejection
pods, but most of them seemed to have failed to ignite. Only the pod
Croft and I and a few other men were in survived the impact. Most of
the equipment was wrecked; later, we tried to get off a transmission,
but I don't know if we were successful."
"What happened to Captain Croft, and the rest of his men?" Carr
wanted to know.
The Professor went more slowly now. "There were five of us, in
all. Waves and waves of savages attacked us. When our blasters were
drained we lost two of our party. Ug here helped us escape."
"Croft," said Ug, smiling.
"We lost our third companion to Bane, and, weaponless, we barely
escaped ourselves," said the Professor.
"And you sent Ug back before you reached the mists?" Carr
guessed.
"Yes. Captain Croft didn't know what awaited us, and didn't want
him getting hurt."
"So there were five of you, three lost, four makes you... so
where is Captain Croft?"
Krenay sighed, and winced, as if this were a sore subject for
him. "I wish I knew. We almost wandered right into Rack's ranch, and
quickly withdrew before we were captured. Croft tried to talk to the
townspeople to learn something about this region, but they raised the
alert, and almost got us caught. Finally, we fled again into the
desert. But one night I was caught by Rack and his men. Croft, who
had been reconnoitering ahead, managed to escape. Rack pursued him
alone. When Rack returned, he claimed he had killed Captain Croft."
"And do you believe that?" said Carr sharply.
The Professor frowned. He didn't seem to know what to say.
Slowly, he nodded. "Either that or the desert got him. Captain Croft
would never have gone onto the next trial, even had he found the way,
without coming back for me."
Carr reflected on this for a moment. Captain Croft had always
been one of his heroes. If even the great Captain Croft had perished,
how could he succeed?
The Professor cleared his throat again. "Anyway, Rack saw I had
'science potential', as he called it, and he sent me to work in his
lab. Sometimes he perverted my work-"
"Like the remote control pig bomb," said Roger.
"Yes, but he never used my works to kill people. It was only
after he demanded the construction of lethal devices that I built the
electric chairs. I thought, at least, that it was better to make those
than to construct laser pistols for him."
"Wait. Back up," said Roger. "How come I wasn't fried by the
electric chair? You didn't disconnect any of the wiring in my chair.
I was freed after sunrise."
"My dear Roger," said the Professor. "Not only was that
unnecessary, but dangerous as well. If I had disconnected a wire and
Rack had noticed, well, it would've gone badly for me, to say the
least. What I did do was disconnect the wiring at the source--where it
hooked into the enhanced solar connector. Rack always kept me closely
watched under guard but your friend here eliminated the ranch hand
assigned to mind me, giving me the opportunity to act."
"Rest break over," Carr announced. "Look, there in the
distance."
It was Rack. Alone. He was heading towards them. He was
carrying a long black instrument in his hand. It was a shotgun. He
stopped moving. He seemed to be looking directly at them. He raised
his shotgun, apparently aiming at them. The range was still to far,
but Rack merely seemed to be making a point. Lowering the shotgun, he
marched forward.
"I'm going to try to take him out," said Carr, hefting his own
shotgun.
"Carr, if he's a robot-"
"You people get ready to run if this doesn't work. Don't worry,
I'll be right behind you." The others quickly made their way to the
next dune, leaving Carr alone.
Carr maneuvered to the peak of the sand dune, and propped his gun
just over the top. He idly wondered how Rack had found them. Did Rack
possess modulated scanners that could detect the heat of their
footprints? No, the heat of the desert sands would mask that. Could
he make out their footprints themselves? Sand was continually falling
into their tracks, obscuring them, and the wind quickly swept them
away, so that possibility seemed unlikely. Carr simply didn't know
what kind of abilities Rack possessed. Or defenses. If Bane could be
killed with a blaster, perhaps Rack could be killed with a shotgun. It
was the same principal. Still, Carr missed his blaster. He touched
his empty holster. His blaster, at full power, had more effect than
any primitive projectile weapon of this era.
Rack approached the dune that Carr was perched atop of. Carr
felt, intuitively, that Rack knew exactly where he was; and yet Rack
was calmly walking right into his ambush. He wasn't wearing his hat;
and Carr noticed that his hair still didn't blow in the breeze. In a
few short steps Rack reached the base of the sand dune that Carr was
mounted upon.
"That's close enough," yelled Carr, raising his shotgun.
Rack looked pleased. "I was looking forward to meeting you
again. I'm afraid, though, that this will be our final encounter." He
started to climb the dune. Without hesitation, Carr shot him with both
barrels, hitting him squarely in the chest. Rack jerked backwards, and
then straightened up, continuing to ascent, smiling all the while.
"Why that.... he's armored!" cried Carr.
Rack stopped, part way up the dune, raised his shotgun, and fired
on Carr. Carr saw it coming, though, and ducked. A whizz! went over
his head. Carr ran to catch up with the others, who were waiting at
the next dune, looking back fearfully.
"So? What happened?" Roger asked.
"He's not like Bane; he's armored," said Carr. "I shot him
straight in the chest and he kept coming."
"This is indeed a grave situation," said the Professor, as they
anxiously slogged forward in the sand. "Do you have any idea how we
can stop him?"
"I was going to ask you that," Carr grimaced. Carr suddenly
asked himself what Captain Croft would do in such a situation. But
Captain Croft had evidently perished here. How could they survive if
Captain Croft had not?
"Maybe he'll get tired and just give up," said Roger hopefully.
"He's a robot! Robots don't give up!" Carr was really
irritated. Why didn't this foolish Earthling just keep quiet and let
him think?
"Maybe he'll run out of energy or something," Roger hypothesized.
"Yeah, or something," said Carr, not paying him any attention.
"Ug!" said Ug, pointing behind them. Rack was catching up!
"Run run run!" Carr heartily advised, picking up speed.
Rack kept up the chase for the larger part of the afternoon.
Although as a robot he might possess superior endurance, at least he
wasn't built to be very much quicker than a normal human being. They
tried to lose him by running quickly and hiding behind the sand dunes,
but Rack always seemed to know where they were. Everytime he caught
sight of them his fearsome dark eyes seemed to bore holes in them, and
they flinched, as if they were targets of some psychic attack. The
party kept going, but they were quickly becoming fatigued.
"It will be night soon," said Carr, watching the sun dip behind
the dunes. "We must be rid of our escort by then. If he's still with
us by nightfall, he could come upon us in the dark before we could even
see him."
"And that means we can't stop!" cried Roger. "I don't know about
you, but I'm getting tired! I can't keep up this pace much longer!"
He had a vision of all of them, exhausted, collapsing behind a dune.
Suddenly, Rack would come over the top of the dune, and finish them all
off. He imagined that this Captain Croft that everyone spoke of had
met just such a fate.
"He's right," said Carr, his shoulders slumped. "Rack will never
give up. He's a machine. Machines don't give up, not ever. We've got
to stop him, somehow, while we're still in any position to put up a
fight."
"I have a suggestion," said the Professor, puffing as he worked
just to keep up with the rest of the party. "It's radical, very
dangerous, but it just might work."
"I'm pretty much open to any suggestions," said Carr, weary.
Then, noticing Roger about to open his mouth, he hastily added, "No,
not from you, Earthling."
Roger looked hurt. The Professor continued. "Well, before my
hasty departure I took with me a pack of my homemade explosives, that
can be detonated by remote control. If we could bury them under his
probable walking path-"
"Say no more!" Carr commanded. "I have a better idea. Here,
give me the explosives." Carr took them from the Professor.
This time again Carr halted again on the top of a tall sand dune,
sending the rest of the party down and up upon the next dune.
What will Carr do, Roger wondered. How would he know exactly
where Rack would walk?
Carr wondered himself. He doubted whether he could predict
exactly where Rack would walk. And he must get these explosives as
close as possible to Rack if the detonation was to have any chance of
penetrating the robot's armor. Carr suddenly raised an eyebrow. Maybe
there was a way.
Rack was rapidly approaching. He reached the base of the dune
that Carr was perched atop of. At the precise moment Rack bent over to
start climbing, Carr stood up, and lunged the explosives carefully with
all his might. Accuracy was at least as important as strength here.
It landed, less than a foot from the target!
Rack started to move. Carr dove for the detonator, depressing
the trigger.
Carr was close enough to the explosion that he felt the tremors
through the dune. He heard a harsh crack as sand was kicked up,
splashing over him. When the harsh sound had subsided, he cautiously
poked his head over the dune.
Where was Rack? He was gone. Carr surveyed the area around him
carefully. Had he circled around? A chill of fear gripped Carr. Then
he looked more closey. There, in the sand, was a glint of metal.
Hefting his shotgun, Carr climbed down the dune, moving closer. He
knew, in just a few steps of his descent, that it was Rack. He was
buried, to varying degrees, under the sand. Standing a foot away, Carr
could see, even through the sand, the damage that had been wrought.
Wires dangled from his chest. Carr could hear the sputtering of short
circuits. And then Carr swore. Rack had Carr's blaster in his
holster!
"Is it all right?" Roger cried out from the top of the dune. He
had cautiously approached when they had heard no word.
Carr looked up at him. "Yeah, he's-"
Something grabbed his ankle. "Shit!" Carr cried. Rack was still
functional. Carr tried to pull away, but the robot had a firm grip on
his leg. Carr, off balance, was yanked to the ground. The robot
started squirming.
Spinning about as quickly as he could from the prone position,
Carr emptied his shotgun into the gaping holes of Rack's chest, at
point blank range. The robot's grip on him slackened, allowing him to
worm away.
Getting up, Carr ran up the dune as fast as he could. Behind
him, slowly, agonizingly, Rack stood himself erect. He was still able
to walk. His chest was a dangled maze of sputtering metal shards, but
the robot was still functional.
"We can make it now," said Carr, at the top of the dune. "I
haven't stopped him, but look how slow he is."
Sure enough, Rack was moving at a snail's pace. Evidently he had
sustained a great deal of damage.
Roger looked down at Carr, walking up the dune. His movements
were unsteady but his feet firmly grasped the ground, leaving the rough
bootprints behind him. "Carr," Roger began. He had remembered
something now, something that Rack had said. He hadn't thought it
important before, but now it was important, perhaps incredibly
important, that Carr know.
"Later! Let's go!"
"Carr!" Roger barked, conveying a sense of urgency.
Carr stopped. He turned around. "This had better be important,
by the Cube of Power it had better be!"
"It is!"
Rack was starting his ascent up the dune.
"Carr, listen. When I saw Rack walking there, leaving marks in
the sand, something he said came back to me."
Carr eyed the climbing robot. "Can't this wait?"
"No! I think I may know how to get past this trial!"
This got Carr's full attention. "Speak."
"When I was recaptured, and Tex was talking to me, I asked him
how to leave this zone. He said to follow his footsteps. I mean, it
sounds ridiculous, and he seemed to be joking at the time, but if...."
"What are you suggesting we do?" Carr asked. Rack had almost
cleared the top of the dune. Carr darted close to him, pushing him
back down before he could react or move his limbs.
"I don't know," said Roger, amazed at what Carr had just done.
"But if we ever want to get out of here, we've got to try something."
"Just a sec." Carr peered over the dune. Rack had gotten up and
started climbing again. He looked closely. Carr's blaster was no
longer in Rack's holster! It must have fallen out at the bottom of the
dune. "I'll be back," Carr said, heading down the dune towards Rack.
What Carr was attempting was incredibly dangerous, and, if he had
had time to think it through, he might have reconsidered his rash
action. But there was no time for that. In a burst of alacrity, Carr
dashed down the dune, whizzing past Rack, breaking as he reached the
bottom. Rack reversed directions, now coming down the dune towards
Carr.
Carr pawed frantically in the sand for his blaster. Rack was
approaching, from just a few feet away. Suddenly, Carr's hands
embraced something solid in the sand. It was his blaster. Raising it,
he pointed it straight at Rack.
"Halt!" he cried. Carr wasn't sure if Rack would be vulnerable
to blaster fire, even with the damage he had already absorbed.
Rack didn't halt. Carr backed away slowly. "Rack, how do we get
out of here, onto the next trial?"
Rack kept coming.
Carr shrugged his shoulders. "Have it your own way, Rack.
Listen up, I've got a message for you. It's a special one, courtesy of
Captain Croft." He pulled the trigger, and a blast of power surged out
of his weapon, striking Rack in the midsection. Rack twisted, falling
into the sand.
Carr walked up to Rack, nudging him with his foot. He looked at
the robot corpse. It certainly looked inert. He looked at the
unblinking eyes, the now empty face. Rack's hair, for once, was
unkempt. "Gotta keep that hair combed, Rack," Carr said softly.
He called for the others to come down from the dune.
"And walk carefully," he admonished. "Don't obliterate his
footprints!" For Rack had left a series of bootmarks in the sands.
When the party had gathered at the bottom, they held a brief
meeting. Carr kept one eye on Rack's body, just in case, and he hefted
his blaster from time to time. It felt good to be reunited with his
best friend.
"Ok, we may have an opportunity to pass this trial and keep
heading for the Cube of Power," Carr announced.
"Cube of Power?" said the Professor, confused. He had been aware
that there were different zones on Clashik, but had not heard anything
about the Cube of Power.
Carr saw that explanations were in order. He quickly outlined
their quest, and the theory behind the trials.
"That's why all the expeditions failed!" said the Professor.
"Whoever has the Cube of Power doesn't want any unwelcome visitors.
The only question in my mind is why the Cube possessor would be willing
to give it up at all."
"I don't know," Carr confessed, often wondering himself. "But,
more immediately, Rack may have given Roger the answer for exiting this
trial."
"What, walking in his footprints?" said the Professor. "I'm
sorry, but I'm highly skeptical."
"So am I," Carr admitted. "But unless we want to spend the rest
of our lives in this desert, we owe it to ourselves to try everything,
no matter how unlikely. Roger will go first."
"I will? Why do I always have to go first?"
"Would you rather go last?"
"No, I prefer a middle position," Roger grumbled. But he went
back to the spot where Rack's footprints were discernable, at the base
of the dune.
"Try not to obliterate them as you walk on them," Carr cautioned.
"You wouldn't want to strand the rest of us here."
"I certainly wouldn't!" Roger was appalled at the thought of
being forced to face a new trial all alone. He walked lightly over the
prints.
"This isn't working, Carr," he said, treading carefully.
"Keep going."
"I'm running out of prints," Roger replied, stepping into the
last set of clear prints that Rack had made, not inches from the
robot's inert form. Roger suddenly shimmered, and disappeared.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Carr was positively
cheerful. "Ug, go next, and for goodness sakes, be gentle on the
sand!"
Ug, for once, understood what Carr was saying, and complied.
Next went the Professor. He retraced the route and disappeared.
"I'm last," Carr announced, to no one in particular. It was a
good thing too; it was starting to get dark, and the prints were
becoming obscured. He traced the route that the others had taken, and
had almost reached the last print when he saw Rack stir. Impossible!
But Rack turned over, and Carr saw that all the damage to his chest was
gone! Rack had somehow regenerated!
And his hair was neatly combed again.
Carr quickly approached Rack, following the footprints right up
to the robot. The robot sluggishly reached out for him, grabbing his
leg, but his hand moved through empty air; Carr was gone. As he faded,
Carr idly thought that it all made sense; if anyone else arrived on
Clashik to take the trials, the guardian would be intact. He imagined
that Bane must have been repaired and returned to his trial zone....
Chapter Seven
Mind-Blanked Metropolis
It was dark. Totally dark, in fact. No one could see a thing.
"Roger?" Carr cried.
"Carr?" Roger said.
"Hello?" said Professor Krenay.
"Ug," said Ug.
Well, they obviously were all close by each other; but Carr,
lifting an arm, couldn't see a hand in front of his face. Carr was
nervous; in this total darkness, anything could take them by surprise.
"Professor, do you have a light, or a match?" he asked.
"No."
"Ok," said Carr. "I hate to waste the power pack, but I'm going
to fire my blaster. There will be a quick flash of light. Try to see
whatever you can."
"Wait!" Carr heard Roger's voice. "What if you hit one of us?"
"I'm going to fire into the air, Earthling," said Carr, working
hard to keep the contempt out of his voice. He aimed, and pulled the
trigger.
It made a loud noise, and in this black calmness Carr wondered if
it were wise to be attracting such attention to themselves. For a
moment, everything lit up. Carr saw that his friends were all just a
few feet away. He also noticed some tall imposing structures in the
distance, but he couldn't tell what they were, exactly. And then the
light faded.
They all sat down where they were. The ground felt hard, but
smooth. Carr told of what he had seen.
Ug had little to report; but Professor Krenay said, "I thought I
saw a city in the distance."
"Roger?" said Carr.
"I think... we're elevated."
"Hm?"
"I think we're on an elevated highway," said Roger.
"Really?" Carr found this interesting. "Where are the cars?
Come to think of it, where are the lights? From the city, from
anywhere?"
But the mysteries would have to wait. They were all tired from
their trek in the desert, most of all Carr. Despite the utter
blackness of the night they held a rotating watch, excluding Roger.
When it came to trusting Roger with responsibility, Carr had learned
his lesson many times over.
As Carr dropped off to sleep he thought about what he had
learned. Roger had related everything Rack had said in their final
conversation. If Rack had been telling the truth--and it was starting
to look as if he had--then this was a planet split into different time
zones. Very interesting. And it did seem to parallel human history,
at least to some extent. But why? Because of the Earthling? And what
was so special about Roger? From Carr's perspective, he could not spot
anything special about the Earther. About the only thing he could say
for the wretched human was that, even for an Earthling, he was
pitifully slow witted. Not exactly Cube of Power material.
Carr felt himself getting drowsy. Why was the Cube being given
away? If the possessor was going to give it to the best and the
brightest, why was Roger being summoned? It just... didn't make...
any... sense....
Roger felt puzzled too; but this was not his immediate concern.
He was scared out of his wits. It was a feeling he had often
experienced ever since coming to this wretched planet. It seems every
few minutes someone wanted to capture or slay him. He didn't doubt
that in the next day or two someone else would try. But how long would
his luck last? What was this now, the third trial? How many did the
Sage say there would be? Five trials, one for each facet, the Sage had
said. But a Cube had six sides. Weren't sides the same as facets?
Roger drifted off on that thought.
Ug tried to fall asleep, but he was oddly restless. Croft's
death had hit him hard; the spaceship commander had been very important
to Ug. Ug wished he could have disposed of Rack personally. He would
have crushed that robotic frame, smashing it into bits... Ug's anger
gradually drifted into hunger, and he slept, dreaming about food.
Professor Krenay was hungry too; their last meal hadn't been very
filling. But hunger was only a distraction for him. The Professor
was absorbed by the specifics of their situation. He thought about the
trials that had to be surmounted to obtain the Cube of Power. And each
trial was presumably more difficult than the last. Could they survive?
If only Captain Croft had survived.... But Captain Croft had not
survived. Carr was their de facto leader. It only made sense. The
Earther didn't have leadership qualities. The savage wasn't mentally
equipped. And he, the Professor, hadn't the desire.
And he had been quite impressed how Carr had handled the previous
trial. For all his protestations of being a self-interested
adventurer, the Professor had noted that Carr had sent the others ahead
in the desert while he, Carr, tackled Rack personally. The Earthling,
Roger, had given them the key to solving the trial, but it was really
Carr who had gotten them through it. While there were definitely some
rough edges to Carr's personality, the Professor found him to be quite
an able leader.
Morning came, in an eerie silence. Not a sound, not a sign of
life. Which was strange, as the party had spent the night in the
middle of an elevated freeway outside of an enormous city.
"We were on a highway!" Roger cried. "We spent the night on the
freeway! We could've gotten run over!"
"But where are the cars? The people? The sounds?" Carr
wondered. He looked off at the city, less than a mile away, the tall
skyscrapers almost looming over them.
"It looks like Houston. Dallas, maybe," said Roger.
"Maybe," said Carr. "But the people are missing. What happened
to the people?"
They started walking. Roger thought it strange to be walking in
the middle of an elevated highway. He shuddered to think what would've
happened if they had walked around the night before. Someone would've
fallen off, probably.
"Very odd," said Carr, as they walked. "No people, no cars, no
sounds, no pollution. Nothing... but city."
"At least we're on Earth," said Roger.
"Dream on," said Carr.
Of course, they weren't really on the Earth. Carr knew that, the
Professor knew that, and even Roger was only guessing. No matter how
much the city looked like some southern metropolis, the absence of
people was very difficult to explain.
They reached the city proper in little under an hour. (They
would have gotten there earlier if Ug had not insisted on a snack
break.) It was a big city, as cities went. There were tall
skyscrapers, their metal frames gleaming in the morning sun. And when
they got closer they saw shops, many of them, dotting the downtown
area. But there was no traffic, no congestion, no hustle and bustle,
no noises. There were also no suburbs; the city itself was surrounded
by miles and miles of the endless desert that they had become quite
familiar with. It was as if someone had just picked up a city, and
planted it down here--in the middle of nowhere.
But the city was not quite deserted. There were people in the
city--thousands of them!
"Look! They're everywhere!" said Roger. They must be on Earth.
The highway had probably been closed for repairs, Roger thought.
But something was not right. As they approached the people,
Roger saw that none of them were moving. In the slightest. Some were
sitting on benches. Others were standing by storefronts. Others were
just standing period. It was as if they were all frozen.
The party approached a fellow sitting on a bench. Carr
uncharacteristically chose to let Roger make the initial contact. This
wasn't Earth, but it had its similiarities, and Roger might elicit a
more positive reaction from its citizens.
Roger sized up the man sitting on the bench. He had a dazed,
expressionless look on his face. "Hello," Roger said, not quite sure
where to begin.
The citizen didn't move, didn't flinch, not a muscle.
"Hello, who are you?" Roger said, more emphatically.
The citizen did not reply. He just sat there, staring insipidly
into space.
Carr could see that this approach was getting no where fast.
"Excuse me, but can you tell us what this place is?"
No response.
Carr, quite fed up, said, "Speak up, man! Are you alive?"
This elicited a reaction. The man dully turned to face Carr, and
said, in a slow monotone, "Who cares?" and then returned to staring
into nothingness.
And that was the only reaction they could get from the fellow.
The party moved on, trying to communicate with someone, anyone.
Approaching people at random, they stopped by one immobile pedestrian.
"Hello, will you talk to us?" Roger asked.
Slowly, the pedestrian responded. "Who cares?"
"We do!" said Roger ernestly.
And so it went. The most they could get out of anyone in the
city was the nondescript "Who cares?"
"You suppose they're trying to tell us something?" said Roger,
frowning in deep concentration.
"There are several possibilities," said the Professor, counting
off on his fingers. "One, everyone in this city could be drugged or
hypnotized or under some sort of influence that inhibites mental
activity. Two, that these aren't really people, perhaps robot
constructs, such as the ones we've become all too familiar with.
Three, this could all be illusionary; the entire city, and the people
in it."
"Which do you think is most likely?" said Carr, gaining a measure
of respect for the Professor's reasoned analysis. If Croft picked him
for science officer, he must be pretty sharp, Carr reasoned.
"Insufficient data," the Professor smiled. "There are too many
unknowns."
"Well, let's see what we can do to knock off some of those
unknowns," said Carr. Theory was fine, but he was a man of action.
"We'll explore the illusion idea last. Objects here seem to be solid
enough," he said, gripping a lamp post, "but that may not mean
anything. But as for your robot theory, I intend to test that out.
Right now. Ug, if you will assist." Carr motioned him forward.
Ug didn't know what "assist" was, but it was obvious that Carr
wanted something, so he lumbered forward.
"See that fellow, right there, at the corner," he said, pointing
a few feet away. Ug nodded. "Yes, that's him. Go and beat him up,"
said Carr.
Ug paused, looking at Carr. He understood the words, but the
context seemed strange.
Carr, seeing the confusion, kept his patience. "You know, hit
him. Smack him around a little. I'll tell you when to stop."
Ug went off to his appointed task. Roger wanted to call him
back, but a dark warning look from Carr silenced him.
Ug smacked into the pedestrian with his fists. Smack, smack,
smack, the man twisted, crumpled, fell to the ground. Ug crouched for
another round.
Carr approached at a leisurely pace, and whistled. Ug stepped
back.
"What was that for?" said Roger, rushing up.
"Look," said Carr, pointing to the pedestrian's face. "Robots
don't bleed."
"But surely there was a more humane way-"
"These aren't humans," said Carr, walking away. "Humans have a
tendency to walk and talk. Even drugged humans have to eat. But these
birds don't. I'll bet if we stuck around long enough they'd gather
dust."
"You talk as though this was all set up recently," said the
Professor.
"For our benefit? Of course! It's not everyday that someone
gets to the third trial. This entire city--it's just a prop. Just as
these... things are." Carr indicated the populace. "I think these are
playthings, constructs, pieces of flesh put together to look like
people. They're just part of the set; more to flavor the genre than
anything else."
"You make it all sound like some massive decorating job," said
Roger.
"No! Think of it as fixing up a stage for a show. And we're the
entertainment," said Carr grimly.
"How will it come about? Will they all suddenly come to life and
attack us?" said Roger fearfully.
"I don't know," said Carr, his hand unconsciously tracing the
outlines of his holstered blaster. "But we survived the other trials,
and we'll survive this one."
"But the trials get harder and harder, as we've seen," said
Roger, "And even your Captain Croft couldn't survive-"
For the first time Roger saw real emotion in Carr's face. He
grabbed Roger's shirt, and said, "Croft was a hero. Croft was a
masterful spaceship captain. Croft was a brilliant tactician. And
Croft was a great leader. I wish he were here now. But we can't just
roll over and play dead because he's not with us!" Carr slowly
released Roger. Roger took a few steps back.
"I-I didn't mean anything," said Roger. "I was just trying to
point out how hopeless it all was."
Carr regained some of his composure. "Something you remind us of
quite frequently." He stomped off. Wordlessly, the others followed.
Night was falling, and they had to decide a place to camp for the
night. Oddly enough, the street lights turned on at night. Had they
been on the night before, the party would have noticed them from the
highway. Carr saw this as further evidence that this city had only
recently been constructed. The streetlights were on for their benefit,
only. Once the party moved on (or was destroyed), perhaps the lights
would be turned off again. Perhaps the city would be "turned off" as
well. When one has the Cube of Power at command, setting up a city is
a simple thing.
After some consideration, they decided to settle for the night in
a luxious hotel in the downtown area. Roger was immensely pleased;
running water, soft mattresses, lights, and good food! Whenever they
wanted food, all they had to do was go into a supermarket across the
street and take whatever they wanted. The cashiers, dull and unmoving,
never objected.
If a part of Roger was still unhappy, and part of him was, it was
the part that felt just a little bit creepy about this whole city.
Especially after dark, the city felt so empty, even with the people
standing around. Although the streetlights were on, all the other
buildings were dark at night, except at the hotel. Roger was a little
scared to go out alone during the day, and he would never do so at
night. He didn't know who or what awaited them in some part of the
city. Perhaps they were being spied upon, and the attack would come
soon. Or perhaps all these zombies would suddenly come to life, and
attack them.
Still, despite these grisly thoughts, Roger was somewhat happy,
enjoying unexpected comfort in this otherwise horrendous adventure.
After a few days nothing remotely alarming had appeared to menace them.
Maybe they would enjoy a little well earned rest.
Carr, of course, took nothing for granted. He and the Professor
immediately started making preparations for their next encounter with
adversity. The technology of the region was equivilent with 20th
century Earth, primitive by Carr's standards, butadvanced enough that
Krenay could utilize some equipment from this era for their own ends.
When the Professor and Carr were not building and planning, in secret,
it seemed, they were talking about the Cube. Even Roger, somewhat
curious about it, participated in the bull sessions. They had
conducted a rough search of the city, and it was all the same; more
buildings, more immobile people. And beyond that, desert.
"I still don't understand," said the Professor. "Why would the
possessor of the Cube be willing to give it up?"
"I can't quite figure it out either," Carr confessed. "It could
all be one big trap. A bit of entertainment for the Cube possessor."
"Which means that even if we reach the end-"
"We may well be doomed," Carr nodded. "But look on the bright
side. So far we've survived two trials. After this there should only
be two more."
But Roger was still haunted by the Sage's last words. Five
trials, but one for each facet. A cube has six facets! Roger was sure
of it. Unless, of course, a Cube of Power had five.
"The Cube would be a fascinating find, I admit," said the
Professor.
"I agree," said Carr, although he meant it in an entirely
different way. For him the Cube was not a scientific discovery, an
object for the journals. No, it was an instrument, an instrument of
power!
"But first things first," said Carr. "How to pass this trial?"
"Just what is the object of this trial?" wondered the Professor.
"I don't know. Yet. The object of the first one was to pass the
Line of Death and elude Bane. The second was to walk in Rack's
footsteps while evading him. But no adversary has appeared on the
scene yet. So far our adversary, if we have one, has been most...
subtle."
And that was the state of affairs for some time. They had come
this far, to be stopped, not by an insurmountable adversary, or an
unpenetrable barrier, but merely by a lack of an objective.
Carr and the Professor spent some time searching the city. They
raided electronics stores, picking up parts and wheeling them away in
shopping carts they had taken from the supermarket. Roger sometimes
wondered what they were working on.
Ug spent his time in a more natural habitat: the city park. It
wasn't a wilderness, Ug knew, but at least it was the outdoors. Living
in a hotel horrified Ug, and he slept nights on grassy lawns. No harm
seemed to have come to him, but Roger worried about him being alone
there.
"But Ug, you'll be indoors. Safe," Roger had said. "You can lock
the door. No need to stay up on watch at night. Comfortable beds-"
"No!" said Ug. "No like sleep on mushy!" And he could not be
persuaded otherwise. He spent most of his time roaming the park,
bored, really.
Roger made more entertaining use of his time. Since Carr and the
Professor would not let him in on whatever it was they were plotting,
Roger raided a local bookshop for the latest science fiction releases.
Roger was a big fan of science fiction; he loved to read of adventures
on other planets. The great paradox, of course, was that he didn't
like to experience adventures on other planets. Roger liked the idea
of adventures; but, when it came to the crunch, he didn't like to risk
his own neck. He was too used to his own comfortable life, with its
stable routine, to be willing to give it up for a life of battle and
trekking. This is why Roger often longed to go home. Many were the
nights that he dreamt he was back at his desk at home, doing nothing
more than catching up on his bookkeeping, or, yes, paying his bills.
Roger was pleasantly surprised to find that the bookstore was well
stocked with many current sci-fi releases; perhaps Carr had been right
when he said that the city had been created recently. Roger spent his
time sitting in a chair in the bookshop, reading novels. But come
nightfall he was always back in the hotel, having dinner with his
friends. And never, ever, after dinner would he venture outside.
More likely he would go to his room, bolt the door (chair against the
door for good measure), and curl up with a good book.
And that was their routine, for almost a week, before something
happened.
Someone in the city spoke to Roger. Someone other than Carr,
Krenay, or Ug.
It happened quite unexpectedly. Roger had been walking through
the park one day, looking for Ug, when he spotted him. Roger didn't
take any notice, even though the stranger was dressed quite differently
than the other citizens of Dullsville, the stranger was, after all,
standing still. But then, as Roger passed by, the stranger whirled,
and tapped Roger on the shoulder.
Roger spun about, thinking it was one of his companions. But it
was his turn to freeze; it was a stranger! Who moved!
"Hello," he said to Roger.
Roger backed away, trembling. It was the shock, really.
"Hello," said the stranger again. And then, "Hey, why are you
running away?"
Roger ran and ran. The strange followed, maintaining pursuit.
It was then that Roger found Ug, almost running right into the
barbarian, for Roger had been looking behind him, not where he was
going.
Roger gasped, almost breathless. "Ug! A stranger!" he managed
to get out.
The stranger, in pursuit, slowed to a halt a few feet away.
"Scared?" he smiled.
Roger regained some of his confidence; after all, Ug was with
him.
"Who, who are you?" he managed to get out.
The fellow just laughed. Roger cringed. Ug looked indifferent.
It may appear that Ug was totally oblivious to most external
stimuli. This is largely true. He was a savage, a barbarian. If it
didn't look threatening, or edible, it was difficult to get a reaction
from him. Even Captain Croft had tried, and failed, to have more than
the most rudimentary of conversations with him. Roger thought Ug was
simple. The Professor thought Ug was a creature of reflex. Carr
thought Ug was stupid. In a way, they were all correct.
The stranger laughed again, this time a loud, wholesome laugh.
"Did I scare you? You should realize that here on this planet things
are not always what they seem. So what's your name?"
Roger didn't think it would be catastrophic to reveal his name,
so he said, "Roger Barton. And who are you?"
The stranger took a step closer to Roger. He looked amused,
really. Roger, a bit ill at ease, took a large step backwards, putting
Ug between them.
"Boo!" yelled the stranger. Roger jumped. He laughed.
The stranger stepped back. "You really mustn't be so nervous.
I'm not going to hurt you."
"What did you say your name was?" Who was this person, and why
was he playing games?
"I didn't." And the fellow seemed terribly amused by that as
well.
"Well, what is your name?" said Roger, growing less alarmed and
more irritated by the minute.
"Um, I don't know if I should be trusting you with that
information. I think I'll be going now. It was nice meeting you,
Roger and Ug!" And he ran off.
Roger shouted "Wait!" But it was too late. The stranger had
disappeared in the park. How had he known Ug's name?
Roger turned to Ug. "We must inform the others." They would
undoubtedly be grateful for the information.
"Idiot!" said Carr. "You found someone who talked with you? Why
didn't you call us?"
"He ran away, even before I could get his name," said Roger.
"Quite a sprite young fellow, if you ask me."
"I didn't," said Carr, annoyed. It had happened. Their random
variable had introduced himself. And who of all people should he met?
The Earthling. The most important question for Carr, though, was
whether this the guardian of the third trial. He hadn't attacked
Roger, or tried to capture him; so if it were the guardian, he wasn't
going for the direct approach.
"Now we'll have to search the city again," said the Professor.
"Don't bother," said Carr. "He could probably evade us. We
don't even know where to look. "
"What do you suggest?" said the Professor.
"Well Professor," said Carr, looking evily at Roger, "I have a
plan...."
Roger was sitting in the park again. But this time Ug was not
with him. And Roger was uncomfortable. Not only was he alone, but he
was forced to keep a pistol under his jacket. Roger didn't like
weapons. He especially didn't like weapons pointed directly at him,
but he also objected to weapons in general. In one of the many stores
the party had raided they had found weapons: pistols, rifles, and
large amounts of ammunition. After this contact Carr had insisted that
all of them, except Ug, be armed. Carr set an example for them all by
keeping his holstered blaster on him all the time.
Roger shivered in the cold evening air. It would be dark soon.
"Getting cool, are you?" came a voice.
Roger looked around. Behind him stood the person he had met the
day before. "Who are you?" he stammered, his hand tightening on the
pistol inside his jacket.
"The name's Spanner."
"Nice name," said Roger, not really sure what to say.
"Where are your friends? I'm ready to meet them now."
"I don't know," Roger sasid. Suddenly from all sides his allies
came rushing up, all armed, in their fashion, and they surrounded
Spanner, the intruder.
Spannner laughed. "I was wondering when you all were going to
show up. And Roger, be careful with that pistol. You might blow a
hole through that nice jacket of yours."
Roger looked down. Was it that apparent?
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Carr barked, hefting a
double barreled shotgun. His blaster would have been even more
efficient, but during the party's exposure to Rack's domain, Carr had
grown to appreciate the aesthetics of the heavy projectile weapon.
Spanner raised his chin defiantly, which was an odd posture,
considering he was the one at the disadvantage. "I could ask the same
of you."
"I'm the man with the shotgun," said Carr, waving it a bit, in
case Spanner hadn't noticed.
"And I'm the one with the explosives," said Spanner, ripping open
his jacket. Sure enough, secured to his body was a vast assortment of
what appeared to be explosive devices. "Enough to take you all with
me, I imagine."
Carr, in a flash, wondered if this was a suicidal robot. "We can
talk about this," he said, a little less harshly.
"Ah, that's better," Spanner grinned. He enjoyed that. He had
clearly beaten Carr in a test of wills. Now they could talk.
Then they sat down in the park and that's just what they did.
Spanner was not a native of Clashik. Nor was he a survivor of
any of the previous expeditions. He claimed to be the owner/pilot of a
one man scoutship that got sucked into Clashik.
"And just why did you come to Clashik?" Carr asked suspiciously.
"Adventure. I heard about the missing expeditions, and I thought
this planet would present a challenge." And Spanner was indeed
challenged. He described how he eluded Bane and figured out Rack's
little game. In time Spanner became aware of what the trials were for;
and when he heard about the Cube of Power, he knew he had to have it.
Carr frowned; he didn't like to have competition. But he told
Spanner an abridged version of their own adventures, watching for
Spanner's reactions to each part of the tale.
When Carr finished, and they all sat in silence, Roger said, "If
you claim to be an innocent traveller, and stranded like the rest of
us, then how did you know Ug's name?"
"Simple," Spanner sneered. "I overheard you whining to the
Savage after our first encounter. I wasn't far away."
"If you really arrived here before we did, how come we haven't
spotted you before now?" said Carr.
Spanner shrugged. "It's a big city. I spotted you people a few
days ago, and kept an eye on you for a while."
"And why did you run away so quickly after our first meeting?"
Roger wanted to know.
"Why did you?" Spanner leered. Then, adopting a more serious
tone, he said, "Listen, I didn't know anything about you guys. You
could've been... well, I wasn't taking any chances. I wanted to watch
you a while. In case you ain't noticed, things are rarely what they
appear to be on this wretched planet."
Spanner paused, as if catching a thought. "I got here, like I
told you, several weeks ago. At first I thought this place was great.
But after a few days I went crazy with boredom! I had no one to talk
to, except for these "Who cares?" creeps. I got so bored I threw pies
in their faces."
"Come to think of it," said the Professor, " I did notice some
people with pie on their faces, but I didn't think anything of it, at
the time."
Carr turned to the Professor, an eyebrow notched.
"I was, ah, thinking of a mathematical equation at the time, and
only noticed it peripherally," said the Professor, abashed.
Carr sighed. The Professor was incredibily bright, but
sometimes... he was just out of it. But more immediate questions were
pressing.
"Now that you've been through two trials, just as we have, do you
have any insights on this one?" Carr asked.
"Hey buddy, if I did, you think I'd be here with you? What a
stupid question!"
Carr sighed. He found he disliked Spanner.
Spanner didn't join their group, not officially, but he kept in
touch with them. He actually wasn't a bad fellow, once the group got
to know him, although he did take a bit of patience to tolerate. Carr,
at first disliking him, grew to hate him; Roger simply wanted to stay
out of his way; Professor Krenay found him unable, or unwilling, to
hold an intellectual conversation; and Ug rarely talked to anyone,
period.
Several days went by. Often Spanner would drop in to pay them a
visit; but he would always disappear later, to whatever hiding hole he
had arranged for himself. Carr thought that Spanner was just keeping
tabs on them, just in case the party learned anything of value. Roger
theorized that Spanner was lonely--although he didn't have much
sympathy for him; Spanner's seemingly misanthropic tendencies tended to
grate on Roger's nerves.
One night, while they were sampling the cuisine at a restaurant
near their hotel (Roger did the cooking), they reflected on their
situation.
"It appears there are five time zones, one for each trial," said
Carr.
"Appears? What do you mean, appears?" Spanner said
belligerantly.
"Appears," Carr replied cooly. "We've seen the ancient past, the
past, and the present-"
"Excuse me," said Spanner. "Whose present?"
"Earth's," said Roger proudly, coming out of the kitchen with
carrot sticks for his companions.
"What do you mean, Earth's?" Spanner asaid. "I may not know very
much about your planet, but I do know that Earthers don't stand around
like artwork all day."
"It isn't Earth," said Carr. "A replica of certain aspects of
it, perhaps. Probably the Cube's work, no doubt."
"But why Earth? And why not an exact copy?" the Professor
chipped in.
"It's a great planet, that's why," said Roger, passing around
hamburgers. Roger wasn't much of a cook, but hamburgers were simple.
They chomped in silence for a while. No one was courteous enough to
compliment Roger on his culinary skills.
"I don't know," said Carr finally, bringing a napkin to his lips.
"Roger is supposed to be the one who can get the Cube. Maybe the
environment was chosen because of him. Or maybe he was chosen for the
environment. Whatever way you have it, the tests were designed for
him."
"But why him, of all Earthlings? the Professor wondered. Roger
looked pained. "Sorry, I mean, "Earth people."
Carr looked thoughtful. "It's true, he hasn't been of much help
during the trials-"
"That's not true! I befriended Ug, who helped us escape! I
found out how to escape the last trial!"
"That's all true, but I did most of the legwork. You surely
wouldn't have made it without me. What's so special about you and your
planet? Couldn't any other Earther have sufficed?"
Spanner looked Roger over like a side of beef. "You're special?"
he sneered.
Roger said, "I don't know. I didn't want to come on this
adventure, I don't want the Cube of Power, I don't want to be here, I
just want to be left alone, preferrably on my home planet. Why me?"
"Indeed puzzling," said the Professor.
Ug, content to let the puzzle lie, reached for another hamburger.
Soon after that they split up. They no longer roomed in the same
hotel, but rather set up shop in different parts of the city.
Roger located himself in a small apartment across the street
from, his favorite bookstore. Unfortunately, Spanner found out where
he was, and often came by to pester him. One time Spanner came by
while Roger was deeply involved in a particularly good science fiction
novel. Spanner had approached Roger, and he had said, "Can I see
that?"
Well, Roger foolishly gave him the book. Spanner read the title.
"Galactic Star Fire! Ho ho ho! Here's some real fire for you," he
said, as he lit the paperback with a pocket lighter.
At that moment something snapped in Roger. Springing forward, he
clocked Spanner across the head, slamming him back against a bookshelf.
Spanner, stunned, retreated in disarray. Roger was almost as shocked.
He had finally stood up for himself. He felt proud, and, for a moment,
full of new self-esteem. Then he returned to his normal meek self and
went back to his reading.
Ug spent his time roaming the great park of the city. He
especially liked the ice cream vendors. Once Roger showed him how to
open the door of their little freezers, Ug raided their ice cream
stock, often chewing several pops at a time, sticks and all. "No no,
Ug, not the sticks," Roger would say, but Ug seemed to like them; he
found them crunchy.
"Oh well," sighed Roger. "They're a good source of roughage, I
suppose."
No one seemed to know where Spanner kept himself. Carr once
asked him where he could be found if something were discovered, but
Spanner had only said, "Don't worry. I'll find something before you
do."
Carr and Professor Krenay spent most of their time together, in
consultation. They had revealed to Roger their base of operations,
PennyPincher's, a multistory department store in the downtown area.
Carr was constantly ferrying to and from an electrics store across the
street, carrying long laundry lists of needs. Roger had peeked in on
them, once or twice, usually to see the Professor bent over a diagram,
or using a solding iron on some electrical parts he was designing.
When Roger asked what they were doing, Carr had replied, "Working."
When Roger had asked for elaboration, he was given a snappy reply about
annoying questions.
Well, Roger didn't care. Let Carr ask him an important question,
and see if Roger deigned to answer. Then Carr would be on the
receiving end of one of those snappy answers. Unfortunately, Roger's
resolve melted in the face of the exigent situation which was soon to
face them.
Roger, again, was the first to come in contact with it. He heard
a sound, one day, nearly four weeks after their arrival. A loud,
wailing of engine, getting louder. And when he saw a great big metal
bulk desending from the sky, even Roger, backwards Earthling that he
was, had a pretty good idea what was arriving. A spaceship! Their
ticket out of there!
Roger wanted to rush back to tell his friends of the arriving
spaceship. They might have been indoors and may not have heard. But
his desire to escape right then and there was too strong, too urgent in
his mind, so he decided to go to the ship first and discover what he
could.
The ship had landed just a few hundred feet beyond the edge of
the city, laying on the desert sands. As Roger got closer to it, he
thought it looked vaguely familiar. But he was so close to it now that
he could not tell. Still, in the back of his mind the memory troubled
him. He slowed, going at a more cautious pace.
Unfortunately, it was far too late even for a cautionary
approach. Nearly sixty feet away from the ship he was ambushed. Roger
looked up at the towering shadow, its gleaming metal exterior cruelly
reflecting a bright light.
"No!" he cried.
Sitting on a 'dune just outside the city, but still some distance
from the ship, Carr watched the whole episode through a fine pair of
binoculars he had appropriated from his department store headquarters.
Though he was an alien from an advanced culture, he could not help but
be impressed by the store's stock and selection. The prices weren't
bad, too.
But Carr's mind was thinking little of bargains and sales at the
moment; all his thoughts were concentrated on the events as they
unfolded. He looked through his binoculars at the figure taking Roger
away. The figure seem to turn, scanning. Then it seemed to look
straight at Carr. Did it see him? At this distance? Damn! Carr
removed his binoculars, and did the sensible thing. He fled into the
city.
This was not a wild flight; Carr had spent weeks preparing for
just such an encounter. He had not known the specifics, of course, but
he had been preparing as best he could.
He was winded by the time he ran into the department store.
The Professor greeted him. "Did you hear-"
"Yes, a spaceship. Come on, we've got to get out of here!" Carr
started to put their equipment in a pair of backpacks.
"We're leaving? We're taking the ship?"
"On the contrary. We're escaping to our real H.Q." It had been
a closely guarded secret. While they had openly set up shop in the
department store, Carr and the Professor had put their most vital
equipment and supplies in their real base of operations. They hadn't
trusted Roger to keep silent, they had no need to trust Ug, and they
hadn't trusted Spanner, period.
"What about our allies?"
Carr rapidly completed the packing, handing a backpack to the
Professor. "Roger's been taken. Don't worry about Spanner." He
started to pull the Professor away.
"And Ug?"
Ug came sailing through one of the glass doors of the department
store, landing in an arc on a soft pile of 50% reduced prewashed cotton
shirts. And then he came.
"Envile! What a surprise!" said Carr, shouldering his backpack.
The mask centered on Carr, but it was, as always, expressionless.
Chapter Eight
The Return of Envile
"Going somewhere?" Envile inquired.
"Envile," said Carr. "You're a little early, but that's no
surprise. How long did it take to wring our location from Roger?"
"I'm a very quick persuader," said the voice underneath the mask.
"Shall I terminate you now, or shall we have a littlefun first?"
Carr shook his head. "I'm a little busy now. What do you say we
do lunch sometime? My treat."
Envile raised his enormous maser. "Time for some toast."
Carr tensed himself to jump aside. But he had a feeling that
this time he wasn't going to make it. Envile pulled the trigger.
Carr wasn't aware of it, the Professor wasn't aware of it, and
certainly Envile wasn't aware of it, but Ug, who had been momentarily
stunned by his fall, had quickly recovered. He had some minor cuts
where he had impacted with the glass, but had received no major
injuries. Ug, as a barbarian, possessed great stamina. He had the
wind knocked out of him, but he wasn't otherwise harmed. By the time
Envile had finished bantering with Carr and had aimed his giant maser
for the kill, Ug had recovered. He lept out of the discount shirt bin
and knocked Envile off balance, causing the maser shot go wild,
missing Carr but disintegrating half of a cosmetics counter.
Now, Ug was not demonstrating bravery; indeed, he didn't even
know the meaning of the word. But Ug was angry; and while this was
also a new word for him, he instinctively knew the feeling, and getting
knocked through a glass door had irritated the musclebound barbarian.
All thoughts, even of food, were driven out of Ug's mind now: all he
was concerned with was destroying Envile with his bare hands.
Of course, given Envile' armor and superior strength, this was
bound to be a futile quest, but it did make for an excellent diversion
for Carr. While Carr grapled with Envile, Carr and the Professor fled.
Ug pounded on the tough armor plating of Envile's elite marauder suit.
Envile, realizing that his maser was no good for close work, was
attempting to shift it from his hand so he could bring a more
appropriate weapon to bear.
Carr and the Professor ran farther into the store, despite the
heavy encumbering knapsacks their carried. "Where are we going?" the
Professor gasped, ducking behind a counter.
Carr didn't waste any breath answering; Envile' meelee with Ug
had ended all too briefly. Envile had managed to activate the stunner
in his armored hand, sending Ug spinning to the ground. He immediately
readjusted his grip on his maser and looked around for his prey. Less
than fifteen seconds had elapsed.
Carr realized that he and the Professor could move faster without
all their equipment; but some of it simply could not be left behind.
They ran up an escalator, and then another. Envile, having spotted
them, was in hot pursuit, just out of sight.
Carr and the Professor took a breather behind a large pocketbook
display.
"Professor," whispered Carr. "See that area, there, over there?"
"Videogames?"
"Yes. Wait there, and hide until I distract Envile. Then go to
our H.Q. I'll meet you there."
The Professor nodded, but he wondered how Carr, acting as decoy,
would escape.
Envile charged up the escalator, two steps at a time. He scanned
the area. No signs of movement. He was about to check the reading on
his life scanner when he noticed something that caught his attention.
Someone was shooting at him. Shrapnel bounced harmlessly off his
force armor. There, in the Junior Miss section, was Carr, aiming
bursts of shotgun fire.
Envile chuckled. The fool. Did Carr think that any weapon he
possessed could harm Envile? Envile fired his maser, depressing the
trigger rapidly, turning the entire Junior Miss area into a mini-
inferno.
After a moment of brief silence, Envile moved forward. The only
sound to be heard was the crackle of clothing on fire. Flames danced
over a display of mannequins, causing their vaguely humanoid features
to melt in a lump of nondescript plastic. Envile walked through the
aisles, inspecting carefully. There was no body. Carr had survived.
Envile turned. He had heard a sound. He casught a glimpse of
Carr, climbing the escalator again, going up and up.
Carr was nervous. That had been a narrow escape. He had
disgarded his shotgun; it was bulky, and could not harm Envile. Nor
did he even draw his blaster, holstered on his belt. At the moment
Carr had no weapon that could stop Envile. His only hope was escape.
He kept climbing until he reached the top floor. Envile was right
behind him, a scant twenty feet behind Carr. Carr momentarily paused
as he reached the top of the last escalator flight. At that moment
Envile approached the bottom of the very same stair. Spotting Carr, he
charged up the escalator.
Carr hit the ground, hard, pressing an activator he had ready in
his hand. There was an explosion and a chunk of ceiling above the
escalator came smashing down over Envile. Quite literally, the ceiling
fell in on Envile. Huge chunks of wall from the sides collapsed as
well, adding to the debris. Envile was quite buried under rubble.
But Carr knew that this was no reprive. He knew that Envile,
protected by his force armor, would not be harmed, and would be free in
seconds. Carr was up and running again even before the last tremors of
the explosion had rumbled through the building.
And even before the dust had settled Envile was forcing his way
out of the rubble, his mech-enhanced arms smashing a path through the
debris.
Carr went to one of the windows facing the street. It was open,
just as he had left it three weeks ago. The rope was there too, tied
to a sturdy watch display case. Carr flung it through the window, and
the line went down the side of the building. Everything was going
according to plan.
Envile trailblazed his way out of the rubble. He had been
delayed not more than a minute, but he was furious. Finally making it
to the top of the escalator, he visually scanned the surrounding area.
There, in plain view, was the window with the rope dangling down it.
He altered the setting on his maser, quickly taking out the window and
a chunk of the wall around it, creating an exit large enough for him to
use. As he jumped out of the hole he simultaneously ignited his
thruster pack. For a moment Envile hovered. He looked at the rope,
dangling alone. He looked at the street. There were people, the idiot
zombies scattered in the street, but no movement. Envile landed on top
of an adjacent building, and checked his life scanner.
And cursed. These immobile sheep were fouling the life scanner.
It was impossible to tell which one was Carr.... Wait! There was a
blip, and it was moving! It was coming from inside the department
store. The readings emanated from the second floor. So the rope had
been a ruse. Carr had hidden, and had used the time to retrace his
steps and head downstairs. Cursing again, Envile rocketed forward. He
was so angry that he didn't bother blasting a hole through the wall
this time; he just smashed through it on impact. He thought he caught
just a glimpse of movement at the escalator. Of course. Carr was
going to rescue the savage. Envile pursued.
Carr thought he had planned for this encounter rather well. The
explosives, rope, everything had been going according to plan. While
he could only guess as to the specifics of their next adversarial
encounter, Carr had planned an escape route and a strategy. He had put
his tools in the areas where he had hoped they would serve him best.
But now Ug was in peril. In addition, he rather suspected that Envile
was tracking him with a life scanner, which was a possibility that Carr
had not before considered. If Envile had checked the life scanner
before he jumped out of the building, Carr would have been cornered.
He shuddered momentarily. It would not be possible to rescue Ug, he
quickly decided, dashing past the barbarian's unconscious form and out
of the building. Carr would have to think about Carr for the moment
and that was that.
Envile reached the ground floor in record time, even for him.
Carr had just left the building and the revolving glass door was still
in motion. Envile activated his thruster pack and made a horizontal
flight to, and through, an adjacent glass door, only deactiviating the
propulsion unit when he cleared the building. He scanned the area,
maser at the hand. It was close to dusk, and he couldn't see very
well. Envile's infrared scanners weren't working properly; some glass
from the last door he went through must have penetrated his shield and
fouled it up. His visor was reduced to utilizing whatever little
daylight remained.
He looked about. There were people standing everywhere. The
usual zombie-stiffs. Envile used his life scanner. There were a lot
of blips, but none of them were moving. Carr had somehow managed to
make good his escape, and yet Envile had only been seconds behind him.
Shaking his helmeted head, he slowly turned to reenter the store and
collect Ug. Carr had escaped, this time, but he would not elude Envile
for long.
Not twenty feet away, Carr slowly turned his head. He had been
in Envile' direct vision, and yet Envile had not noticed him. His ploy
had worked! He quickly ran to the secret headquarters.
In a shoe store on the other side of the city, the Professor was
anxiously wating, eager to find out what had happened. He was still
pacing when Carr dashed in. How had he escaped? Was Envile in
pursuit? Where were their companions?
Carr took a deep breath. He was tired, and his escape had been a
narrow one. But he explained. "I knew sooner or later that we were
going to encounter some sort of foe. I just prepared for it, that's
all. I set up an escape route from the store in case we were attacked.
For similar reasons I insisted that we keep this, our real H.Q.,
secret. I wasn't expecting Envile, of course, and his appearance
nearly upset my plans."
"And what about-"
"The others? Roger's been taken. Ug too. And don't worry too
much about Spanner; I think he's working for Envile."
"Spanner? A traitor?" The Professor seemed surprise.
"I never trusted him, not from the start," said Carr. "Oh, not
like Roger; Roger meant well, but simply couldn't be trusted with a
secret. But I think Spanner was actively working for them." By them,
of course, Carr meant the guardians of the trials. "I don't even know
where he is; but then, I'm pretty sure he doesn't know where we are.
We're the only ones who know about this place, and we've been careful
to keep our comings and goings a secret."
"But why Spanner?"
"Why not? Who's to say that he was a participant in the trials,
like us? We only had his word? How to distinguish between someone who
is passing through, and someone who works here? But it all came to me
during my escape from Envile. Did you notice how quickly Envile closed
in on our department store location? He was practically right behind
me. Now, how did he know where we were? Did he squeeze that
information out of Roger? True, Roger crumbles quickly. But that
quickly? It's possible, but just not likely. There wasn't enough
time. The only other people who knew of our location were Ug and
Spanner. Ug, for many reasons, I think we can safety eliminate. And
that left Spanner. He knew where we were, and simply told Envile."
"So what do we do now?" said the Professor, thinking of Roger and
Ug.
"Well, I don't intend to let Envile get another crack at me until
we're ready."
The Professor had heard of Envile. "But how did Envile get
here?"
Carr rapidly explained his previous encounter with Envile. "I
could have sworn I blasted him. But even if he survived that, how did
he manage to land, not crash, on Clashik? Ah, I wonder...."
"What?"
"No, not yet. not all at once," Carr said, more to himself.
"Do you think Envile will find us?"
Carr shrugged. "Anything's possible. A life scanner, assuming
he is using a life scanner, is only detailed enough to detect movement
at close range. Luckily we have all these stiffs to mask our position.
But next time we'll seek him out. How's the device coming?"
That was the one question that Carr had continually been asking
the Professor all these weeks. It was the key to his plan to fight
back. Carr had persuaded the Professor to construct it, even before an
adversary had appeared.
"It's almost ready. How did you know, so many days ago, to have
me construct-"
"There'll be time for explanations later. Just complete work on
the device while I put the finishing touches on my plan of attack."
"Plan of attack?"
"Of course. You didn't think I was going to let Envile define
the next encounter on his terms, did you? It's time we struck back."
Roger sighed, not at all happy to be back in the familiar setting
of Envile's cell. Ug was with him, at least.
Envile paid them a brief visit that night. "Earthling! It is so
good to see you again!"
"Envile, how did you-"
"Survive?" He cackled. "Did you really think that mere laser
cannons could penetrate my force armor?"
"Even if you survived, how did you follow-"
"No more questions!" Envile paused. "Shortly you will cease to
be curious about anything. But now I have a question for you,
Earthling. Do you know what I have planned for tomorrow?"
"Um, no," Roger had to admit.
"I'm going to capture your friend, once and for all. Then I'm
going to eliminate you all, slowly. After that, I'll be off to get the
Cube of Power." Humming, he left the cellblock.
Things looked bleak for Roger and his allies.
Professor Krenay worked late into the night. Even by morning,
the device wasn't completed.
"Problems, Professor?" said Carr, stifling a yawn.
"I cannot complete such a complicated device with antiquated
spare parts!" he said, frustrated. "You see, the problem is with the
focusing generator. They don't have anything remotely like it in this
era, so I had to construct it from scratch. Most of it is finished,
but even if I do manage to complete it soon, there's no guarantee-"
"Just try your best, Professor. It's the only way we're going to
defeat Envile."
"How will this defeat Envile? At best, it may weaken him
somewhat," theorized Krenay.
Carr shook his head. "You don't understand the whole situ...
freeze!" he said, in a whisper.
The Professor stood very still. Carr ducked under a counter,
crouching very still. Passing by the storefront were a squad of
robots. Envile' robots. They were combing the city for Carr! One of
the robots passed close to the store window, glancing in. As Carr
surmised, it was keyed to his visual appearance. Its glance went pass
the Professor. The machine consulted an object, undoubtedly a life
scanner, as it walked. Then, it passed on, going to another street.
The Professor started to speak, but Carr said, "Wait."
A few minutes later, he said, "Ok, they're probably out of range
by now. You've got to complete that thing soon, Professor!"
Envile was understandably disappointed. He had dispatched
hundreds and hudndreds of his robot crew to seek out Carr, leaving his
own ship with only a skeletal staff. Not that he feared attack;
indeed, the thought that he might be attacked did not even enter his
mind. After a time, seeing that the search was a wasted effort, he
recalled the robot squads.
What to do? Envile' mind went through the possibilities. He
couldn't easily capture Carr, so what other option was there? It had
to be something certain... something final... something big. What
about destroying the city? That was an idea that had instant appeal
for Envile. He checked his computerized weaponry manifest. It was a
long list....
Yes! He had a Veriton disintegration bomb, large enough to
destroy the entire city. In a space battle it was largely useless,
because the detonation area was so large that it tended to destroy
friend as well as foe, but Envile had kept the weapon over the years
nonetheless. He began the preparations.....
A small courier launched from the grounded battlecruiser. It
hovered over various parts of the city, repeating one message, over and
over.
Carr and the Professor heard it from the shoe store.
"This is Envile," blared an amplified speaker from the courier.
"You have one hour to give yourself up. I am assembling a Veriton
disintegration device on the steps of City Hall that will demolish the
entire city in that time. Surrender before the time is up, and you
may, just may, survive." The message repeated itself, but grew faint,
as the courier moved over other parts of the city.
"We're running out of time, Professor," said Carr.
Professor Krenay checked over the device. "Just one moment."
But it took several more minutes. Finally, the Professor said to Carr,
"There. I think it may work."
"You think it may work?"
"There's no practical way to test it. Even if we could, how will
this device defeat Envile? At best, I think-"
"Leave the thinking to me," snapped Carr. He was tense. Envile
was trying to set the agenda again, and Carr didn't like it.
Carr picked up the unwieldy contraption. It looked like an
ungainly laser rifle. "This had better work. Wish me luck,
Professor."
"Wait! I'm coing with you!"
Carr shook his head. "Too dangerous. Apparently, Envile isn't
even looking for you. Stay here, and you'll-"
"Be in peril too," said the Professor. "Or have you forgotten
what will happen if that bomb goes off? If I started running towards
the desert now I wouldn't be out of detonation range for several
weeks."
Carr looked at him. There was resolve etched all over that
scholarly face. Whatever happened, they were going to stay together.
"All right," conceded Carr. There was no time to argue. How long had
it been since the bomb had been armed?
They rushed to City Hall. It was an imposing structure, actually
not far from the hotel they had orignally stayed in during their first
few days in the city. Carr and the others had noticed it during one of
their forays of the city.
They went cautiously, slinking from block to block, feeling
terribly exposed. If Envile had stationed robots... but he didn't have
to, Carr thought ironically. Envile knew precisely where they were
going. Either to try to deactivate the bomb, or for Envile's ship.
And Carr guessed, rightly, that Envile' ship was a great deal more
difficult to penetrate, even with the weapon that Carr was now armed
with.
Carr stopped a block away from City Hall. He was hurrying, but
he tried to visually scan the area as best he could. "This is going to
be close. Envile has proably lain some sort of ambush around the bomb
site. Professor, take my blaster."
Carr, his hands burdened with the Professor's device, could not
reach it. Krenay took it out of Carr's holster. He looked at it,
slowly. The Professor had worked for the military, but he wasn't a
military man. He was about to say as much to Carr.
But suddenly a squad of robots appeared from around the corner,
surprising both Carr and the Professor.
Carr hefted his device as if to fire, and the Professor raised
Carr's blaster, but they were both shot before they could defend
themselves. A wave of energy washed over both of them, and then
consciousness faded. The blaster fell from the Professor's limp hand.
As Carr hit the ground, he still had enough awareness to use his body
to shield the device from the brute impact of his fall.
The robot guards proceeded to drag the prisoners away. All
that remained of the encounter were Carr's blaster and the Professor's
device. They lay there, desolate in the gentle desert wind.
From behind a storefront across the street, a lone figure watched
the encounter. Then it moved on.
Envile received the report of the capture from the bridge of his
battlecruiser. "Excellent," he said. That had been easy enough.
"Stay the countdown on the Veriton bomb. Time to detonation on hold?"
"Three one minutes," the robot trooper reported over the link.
"Soon I will depart," Envile instructed. "When I have cleared
the area, I will give the order to detonate. For now, revert to
standby mode." Envile was going to destroy the city, even though there
was no longer a need to do so. The city had frustrated him, even for a
short time, in his efforts to capture Carr. Envile would enjoy a bit
of primitive pleasure in overseeing its destruction.
The robot accepted his command noncommentally. As they were
designed, Envile's robots were little more than simple autonmatons;
they did little or no thinking for themselves. Envile enjoyed being
served by obedient mechanicons. Inwardly he chuckled, recalling an
incident he had once read about. It had been about forty years ago, on
Murada Three, a really bizarre planet. There the robots had been
allowed to advance to such an extent that they lobbied for citizenship.
But the flesh and bloods would not hear of it. When the robots
registered their objections, the flesh and bloods had them dissembled.
Still chuckling, Envile went to tend his controls.
Envile was, of course, already quite pleased for other reasons.
All his prey were now in his power. He learned, with not very much
interest, that there had been a fourth companion, who had also been
captured with Carr. But the Professor was not Envile' focus. Carr
was. That mocking irritation would soon be terminated. The only thing
that Envile had not yet decided was how to accomplish this. Too
quickly, and too little satisfaction. But on the other hand, he didn't
want to drag it out; for Envile lusted for the Cube of Power, and every
delay grew heavy on his mind.
But deciding the method and the manner of their execution could
wait. First Envile had to get the ship away from the city; even his
battlecruiser, with full forcefields activated, could not survive a
Veriton explosion, at least not at ground zero.
"Make preparations for liftoff," he informed his robot bridge
crew. That done, he headed for the cell block.
Carr and the Professor recovered consciousness to find themselves
in a cell with Ug and Roger. "Shit!" was the first thing Carr said,
when he realized what had happened.
"Carr!" said Roger.
"So much for the plan," said Carr, a bit chagrined.
"Envile is going to eliminate us," Roger moaned.
"I think that possibility is not unlikely," Carr admited. He
sighed. "I'm sorry we never got the opportunity to test your device,
Professor."
"It may not have worked anyway," said the Professor. "It was
filled with all those antiquated Earth parts, remember."
Roger opened his mouth, but Envile chose this moment to make his
entrance. He stood just behind the penal forcefield at the entrance to
their cell. "Are we comfortable? We'll be leaving soon, and I just
thought I'd check up on the passengers."
"Where are we going?" Roger asked timidly.
"I am going to get the Cube of Power," said Envile. "You, I'm
afraid, aren't going very far at all. I haven't yet decided an
appropriate manner of execution, but one will come to me."
"Maybe your dimwit robots can offer a suggestion," Carr sneered.
"Their presence certainly raises the average I.Q. on this ship."
Outside the giant battlecruiser, two robot sentries stood stiffly
on duty. Suddenly, there were two expertly aimed flashes of light, and
both fell, deactivated before they hit the ground. An intruder ran
into the ship.
"And what do you think the intelligence of a corpse is?" said
Envile.
"Higher than yours," said Carr coolly. "Listen, idiot, the key
to passing this trial is in the city!"
"The trial?"
"Yes! The five trials of the Cube of Power! Where've you been?
Didn't you pass the first two when you landed?" Carr stopped in mid
thought. "Just how did you land?"
"With ease," smirked Envile. Quickly changing the subject, he
said, "I'm still going to destroy the city, you know. Soon after I
lift off, the bomb will detonate!"
"Why're you telling me? I'm not the mayor." Carr replied in an
offhanded way. Something definitely was not right here. Just how had
Envile landed?
The intruder ran down corridors of the massive spaceship,
consulting the life scanner he had liberated from one of the guards.
Envile spoke into his comlink. "Bombsite detachment! We are
taking off momentarily. Reactivate three one minute countdown.
Acknowledge."
"Acknowledged."
Envile studied the captives behind his helmet. "Further
conversation is irrelevant." He turned to leave-
-and tumbled against a wall in the corridor, as he was hit at
close range by a blaster set on maximum.
Envile oriented himself, noticing the intruder for the first
time. From their cell the captives could see the newcomer quite
clearly.
"Spanner!" Roger cried.
"Spanner?" said Carr, confused.
Spanner dropped Carr's blaster to the ground. In both hands he
now hefted the Professor's strange looking device. It looked like a
rifle of some sort.
"What is this?" said Envile, more angry than concerned.
"Spanner's the name, helmet head."
"Envile! That is my name. And I will spend much time teaching
you the proper pronounciation of it, until you say it with a great cry
of pain."
"You're really tough!" said Spanner mockingly. He aimed the
Professor's device. "Don't move, sucker," he suggested, hefting the
weapon. He didn't know precisely what it was, of course, but had
guessed, correctly, that it was the most potent weapon in Carr's
arsenal.
Envile laughed. "Do you think any weapon can hurt me? Bombs,
blasters, even ship weaponry cannot dent my force shield! You, on the
other hand, can be eliminated in the wink of an eye."
Spanner said, "Really? Let's see!" And he quickly pulled the
trigger. A small hum emitted from the weapon, but no visible ray
emerged from it. Envile started to chuckle dryly, and slowly raise his
hand laser.
But Envile' s laugh was halted, choking. He started to buckle,
to feel very weak, unsure. The force field in the prisoners' cell
flickered, and went out. Carr and his friends emerged from the cell.
"Keep the trigger depressed," Carr ordered.
Envile started to collapse. What kind of weapon could render him
helpless like this?
Carr went to the device that Spanner held, and adjusted a nob on
one end. "Keep it depressed," he repeated. Then, "I've lowered the
polarity. Envile, you should be able to talk now."
Envile labored to move, but couldn't even sit up. He managed to
get words out. "What... is... it?"
Carr grinned. "It's an enhanced version of a magnetic field
disrupter."
"You realize... the truth."
"Of course. It all follows the pattern. Now tell me, how do we
pass this trial?"
"Fly, the-"
"You can do better than that!" said Carr. "I'm sure we're not
going to be allowed to have a fully functioning spaceship, not at this
early stage. You're not being helpful. I'm going to turn up the
polarity," he said, and moved as if to turn the knob on the side of the
rifle.
"Wait!" Envile croaked.
"Well?" Carr hesitated.
"You'll never... find the place...."
Roger said, "Carr, we've got to get out of here soon! The bomb
is going to go off!"
Carr said, "Right. No time to waste." He turned the knob up to
full, and Envile collapsed, sputtering. "You can stop now," he said to
Spanner.
"Carr, he knew where the exit was," said the Professor. He bent
over Envile. Something was odd about their former captor....
"Yes he did," said Carr. "And he was just trying to delay us.
He would never have told us."
"You can't know that," said Spanner.
"Maybe not," said Carr, "but I do know where the exit is.
Follow, please?" Picking up his blaster, he left the room, not even
watching to see if the others followed. Leaders lead, he thought.
They all followed. Even Spanner.
"Carr," said the Professor, as they hurried, "Envile was a ro-"
"Yes, I already know," said Carr. "No time for that. Action
now, talk later." In his mind he wondered how many of those 31 minutes
were left.
"But where are we going?" said Roger. "Shouldn't we try to fly
out of here?"
Carr shook his head, walking quickly. They were heading in the
opposite direction from the bridge. "Roger, we ran into that problem
before. All the robots obey Envile." They passed by several robots,
but the mechanoids acted oblivious to the party; they had no orders
concerning the intruders. The party kept marching for some time.
Carr slowed at a corridor junction, thought a moment, and then
turned left. "Think, Roger, think of the pattern. We're always lured
into the most dangerous place if we're to escape. The Line of Death.
Rack's footprints."
"And here?" said the Professor.
"Well, it's all intuition, mind you, but aside from the bomb site
where would you bet the most dangerous place would be?" He let the
question hang as they entered engineering. "The drive chambers, of
course."
"But that's lethal!" the Professor gasped.
They halted by the inspection hatch. "Yes, it is. But we have
only a few minutes left in any event."
The Professor checked his watch. By his count, there was
actually less than five minutes left.
Roger looked at the caution sign above the hatch, and shuddered.
"Look at that energy gauge," said Spanner, indicating a panel.
It showed that there was a lethal concentration of energy inside.
"This must be it," said Carr, opening the hatch. It was all
theory, to be sure, but they had nothing else to go on. Nothing.
"This is crazy!" said Spanner, lifting his weapon.
"What would you have us do, then?"
"Take one of the ship's shuttles," he said desperately.
Nice idea, Carr thought inwardly. But he said, "No time left."
"Don't open that hatch!" Spanner suddenly was pointing a pistol
at Carr.
"Ug," said Carr. Ug clipped Spanner, neatly on the back of the
head. Spanner folded. "Thank you," he said. "You do that well. And
now, if there are no further delays...."
"About one minute left," said the Professor, counting down.
Roger was about to open his mouth to object, when Carr opened the
hatch wide. The release of energy should have killed them instantly.
Instead, it was dark. The indicators had lied. Carr, motioning them
forward, stepped inside--and disappeared.
"Let's go!" said the Professor, quickly following. Roger went
next, and last came Ug, carrying Spanner. They all disappeared.
A few scant seconds later everything else disappeared, but in an
entirely different manner. A massive explosion ripped the city apart.
And, a few seconds later, the battlecruiser as well.
The sputtering ruins of the city crackled in the desert for
several minutes. And then, as if an act of a play was over, and the
set was no longer necessary, the entire city disappeared, without a
trace.
Chapter Nine
The Tests of the Labrynth
Roger was impressed. Carr had guessed correctly. But the
Professor, on reflection, realized that guessing had little to do with
it; Carr had reasoned it all out, and in most respects had been
correct.
Carr had devoted a considerable amount of thought and energy to
the task of facing up to the third trial. He had meticulously prepared
an escape route from the department store. He had stocked his real
base with supplies to last weeks, if necessary. And weeks earlier he
had directed the Professor to construct the magnetic field disrupter.
The magnetic field generator, when used properly, disrupts, jams,
and eventually overloads electronic circuitry that is exposed to its
electromagnetic waves. Spanner had used the magnetic field disrupter
to cripple Envile as well as disrupt the machinery that operated the
forcefield controls in the cell block.
Of course, the idea of using a magnetic field disruptor was
hardly original. Magnetic field disrupters had been used in combat
before, as Carr well knew. Carr had first learned of their application
when he had studied the famous spacebattle at 40 Ogari. There, the
Valdris fleet battled the Clalla armada. The Valdris had magnetic
field projectors mounted on their ships instead of the more commonplace
missiles and lasers that their opponents employed. As the battle
raged, the Clalla noticed that they were blowing Valdrans out of the
sky, and taking no losses of their own. But when the Valdrans got
close enough they activated their projectors, and jammed the circuits
of every Clallan ship. The Clalla force were sitting ducks.
Unfortunately for the Valdrans, they hadn't thought to put other
arms on their ships, and while they had disabled the Clallans, they
hadn't destroyed them. The two sides found themselves reluctantly at
an impasse and were forced to make peace. To little surprise, of
course, war broke out again a scant three years later. But the lesson
concerning magnetic field disrupters had not been lost on Carr.
Carr had strongly suspected that they would have to face another
guardian robot, simply because both previous guardians had been robots.
Therefore he needed a potent weapon. He could see that as the trials
progressed the robots grew more sophisticated, and better armored, and
he guessed, quite rightly, that his blaster would not help him against
this trial's guardian. So Carr had come up with the idea of
constructing a magnetic field disrupter. Of course, there is a counter
for any weapon, but Carr thought a magnetic field disrupter would be
sufficiently potent to conquor the guardian of the third trial.
And Carr knew almost immediately that Envile was the guardian of
the third trial. He had been suspicious when Envile's ship landed,
knowing full well that no ship ever landed on Clashik. This had been a
dead giveaway. The real Envile, had he come to Clashik, would have
crashed, just like all the rest. Whoever was manipulating the trials
must have known of their encounter with Envile, had fabricated a robot
duplicate (probably using the Cube) and sent him along to face the
party.
But Carr had not been fooled. Unfortunately, he had suspected
that Spanner was working for the guardian, especially when Envile
quickly managed to find them at their department store location. It so
happened that Roger, greatly panicked by the mere presence of Envile,
promptly confessed the location of his friends. And so when Carr's
plan went awry, and Spanner rescued them, Carr was surprised. But his
theory was sound, and Carr's formulation had enabled them to from that
zone.
Spanner had been watching the party from the beginning, not
knowing whether to trust them or not; he thought they might have been
part of a trap set up by the guardian. So he kept a steady watch on
them, and had been alert when Envile arrived. He had been close by
when Carr and the Professor were captured. Spanner waited until the
robots left, and then he retrieved their disgarded weapons. The
magnetic field disrupter intrigued him, and he had a feeling that this
was a 'secret weapon' that the Professor had been working on. Like
Carr, Spanner operated on hunches, too.
Roger, by contrast, found the whole explanation confusing. He
was saddened that the city had been destroyed. He hadn't quite
accepted the fact that the people had not been human; and althought
they had been stiff wooden zombies, he still grieved for them. In a
way, they had been people, he thought.
But what really shocked Roger was Carr's almost uncaring walk
into death in Envile's engine room. Carr hadn't known, Carr couldn't
have know, not for certain, that the drive chamber was the exit from
the trial.
Carr had been fairly sure, however. He had noticed that in the
previous trials that they had been required to approach danger to
succeed onto the next trial. But Carr had also noticed something else:
he and his friends were providing entertainment for the Cube possessor.
Carr suspected that the Cube possessor found it entertaining to force
the mice into a dangerous corner of the maze.
They found themselves indoors.
"Looks technologically more compatible, as I'd expect," commented
Carr, eyeing their metal surroundings. Could they be on a space
station? Some sort of base?
The walls were constructed of thin sheets of smooth metal.
People clothed in loose, manufactured weaves walked around them,
talking casually. Carr studied an information screen on a wall. "We're
in some kind of base, all right," he said.
They approached a nearby viewport and looked out. They saw a
maze of metal buildings linked by connecting corridors. They were in a
futuristic city of some sort. "I wonder what planet this is?"
said the Professor, peering outside.
Suddenly, they heard an announcement over the public address
system. "Attention, attention. The management wishes to welcome the
latest arrivals from the third trial. Welcome to future Earth!"
So their conversation was being monitored. That in itself was
hardly surprising. But the fact that the trials continued to mimic the
Earth's development intrigued Carr. "I think the Cube possessor is
having a little fun with us. Come on, let's look around the city."
They started walking slowly. Spanner, who had recovered from Ug's
assault, also followed, silently. At first he had been angry at the
others, but now he was cowed, realizing that at the critical time, Carr
had been right.
They walked for some time. It was a crowded city; but if any of
the residents took notice of their unusual clothing or appearance, they
gave not even a curious glance. But the people did seem real enough;
Carr stopped one to ask for directions. The person responded
coherently, though slowly.
"Why did you ask him where the spaceport is?" Roger asked. Then,
he thought about what he just said, and a smile of great joy dawned
upon his face. "Oh! That's great! Let's go!"
Carr smiled also, for the first time in a long while. "Don't get
your hopes up. We're not leaving, yet, in any event. But we'll see."
They reached the spaceport terminal shortly. Moving sidewalks
took them there at a speedy pace. When they got off, Carr approached a
desk labeled "Flight Information".
"Hello, when does the next interstellar flight depart?" said
Carr, pleasantly enough. He didn't wish to leave at this time; but he
wanted to know his options. Nearby Roger stood, hanging on to every
word.
"Depart?" said the young man behind the desk, smiling pleasantly.
"Yes, you know, leave."
"The planet?" said the man, still smiling, although a little
quizically.
"Of course," said Carr, feeling a little eerie. "This is the
spaceport, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course," said the man. He seemed to have a faint
dullness in his eyes. Or perhaps it was just Carr's imagination.
"Good, good. Now, when does the next ship leave?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, sir," said the man politely. He
started to turn to some papers on his desk.
"Listen, you, I'm not through talking to you yet!" Carr said,
feeling frustrated. He continued to berate the counterman, but it was
a losing battle. Here, at the spaceport, there was no concept of ships
leaving--or coming, as Carr discovered. These may be sentient beings,
Carr realized, but they had been... altered in some way.
Then came the announcement. "Captain Croft, Captain Croft, your
party is waiting for you at the spaceport. Captain Croft, to the
spaceport."
But Carr had not been listening. He was still busy arguing with
the counterman, and Roger had been listening to their conversation
intently. Spanner and the Professor were also deep in conversation.
Only Ug, who stood to the side, perked up his ears. Croft?
"Listen. You know what spaceships are, right?" said Carr.
"Right," agreed the counterman.
"They come and go places, right?"
"I'm following," he agreed.
"Then when is the next ship coming in?" thundered Carr.
"He'll tell you nothing," said a voice. "Ships don't land here,
remember?"
They all turned. It was a stranger Roger had never seen before.
But the Professor and Ug recognized him. "Croft!" Krenay exclaimed,
reaching forward to shake his hands.
Several handshakes and one savage hug later, Roger discovered
that this was indeed the legendary Captain Croft. Fleet Captain Ardi
Croft, clad in his navy blue and black, streaked with silver stripes on
his shoulders, looked in good shape. What surprised Roger was how
young he looked; he was in his mid thirties, no older.
They went to the spaceport lounge, and there they exchanged
stories. First the Professor brought the Professor up to date on his
adventures, introducing Carr and Roger in the process.
When the Professor had finished, it was Croft's turn to speak.
He had been in command of the seventh expedition, the last fleet to
visit Clashik. Like the sixth expedition, the seventh fleet hadn't
really been an expedition, as explained earlier. Expedition or no,
Croft's ship had been dragged down to Clashik, just as he finished
executing a brilliant maneuver that enabled the rest of his fleet to
escape the marauders. The party knew his adventures up until the time
he parted with the Professor, in Rack's dominion, but after that, they
knew nothing more.
"We thought you were dead," said the Professor.
"I almost was. He was chasing me, tracking me, I don't know
how," said Croft.
"Thinking back on it, he may have had a built in life detector,"
Carr mused.
"I assumed something along those lines as well," Croft nodded.
"Flight was impossible, therefore combat was the only option.
Professor Krenay, the last of my crew to survive, had been taken by
Rack in a desert skirmish several hours earlier. I was alone. I did
have a blaster, but I doubted whether it would have any effect on Rack.
But I had no other options; I had to try."
"I waited until he was close, then I circled around a dune in an
attempt to come up behind him. In case he was tracking me visually, by
footprints, I tried to walk in Rack's bootmarks, in the small hope that
this trick might confuse the trail. I came up behind Rack, he turned,
I landed a foot, already launched, in one of his footsteps, and...
everything disappeared."
"After I arrived in the next zone, I figured it out; the key to
every trial was to go to the most dangerous place in every trial. And
in that trial the most dangerous place was right behind Rack."
Carr nodded; he had come to a similar conclusion.
"And then after I passed the trial of the fuzzies-"
"Fuzzies? You mean the city," said Carr sharply.
"City?" Croft was genuinely confused. "I was transported to
some other dimension, filled with these furry round creatures. There
were no buildings of any sort, I assure you."
Croft filled them in. Evidently his third trial had been
different from theirs. As Croft described how he battled the fuzzies,
Carr thought that the city must have been created especially for them.
Or had it? Perhaps it had been constructed especially for Roger. It
had, after all, resembled the Earther's planet.
Croft completed his story. "And now I'm here."
"Do you want this Cube thing too?" Roger wanted to know.
Croft paused a moment, considering his answer. "Want it? I
wouldn't mind, I suppose. But I'm really more interested in seeing
that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. I did not come here for the
Cube of Power, as I gather you did. But it seems getting through the
trials is our only hope of escape."
Carr looked at Croft. Could this be another competitor for the
Cube of Power? Carr already knew that Spanner wanted it, and he
suspected that the Professor did as well. But he sensed that behind
those firm words Croft spoke the truth. The spaceship captain simply
did not want all that awesome power entrusted in the hands of the
irresponsible. In a way Carr was glad to see Captain Croft. Carr
admired Croft, and his achievements, and felt that the party could only
profit from having another reliable man in the party. The Professor
was reliable, but he was hardly a combat veteran, despite his service
on Croft's ship. Ug was reliable, but stupid. Spanner was
intelligent, but unreliable. And Roger was the worst of both worlds,
unreliable and stupid.
But Captain Croft, well, by joining forces with him they may have
just doubled their chances of surviving.
"But Rack said you had died," said Roger, wondering if Croft
could be a robot imposter.
Captain Croft laughed, a soft, gentle laugh. "I sense the
apprehension behind your words. It is difficult to be certain of
anything in this place. But I am Fleet Captain Ardi Croft, and all I
can say is if you have your doubts, you shall have to learn to trust
me, in time." He gave Roger a disarming smile.
"Ug," said Ug, as if he implicitly believed what Croft said.
"Oh," said Roger, a bit abashed that he had ever doubted the
great man.
There was silence for a moment, until the P.A. system came to
live. "The management hopes the new arrivals are settling in well.
Enjoy the rest of your life in this frame."
"They really keep close tabs on us, don't they?" said Carr.
"What's more is that the locals don't even hear the
announcements," said Croft. "They're normal enough, but try to talk
about certain subjects--spaceships, the Cube, escape--and they just go
blank."
"How are you fixed for supplies?" Carr inquired.
"Quite well. I have an unlimited expense account here, as I
suspect all of you will. Evidently we're to face something so
challenging in this trial that the Cube posessor will allow us anything
we wish--aside from escape," he added, quickly seeing the vaguely
hopeful look on Roger's face.
"Do you have any idea what we have to face in this trial?" said
Carr.
"Yes. It's a labyrnth on the other side of the city. In fact,
it even has a big sign over the entrance, 'Fourth Trial of the Cube of
Power."
"How subtle," said Roger.
"Hmm," said Carr. "So this one won't be a puzzler. If I were to
guess, I would say that this trial will require more brawn than brain."
"If by that you mean we may have to go into combat, I agree with
you," said Croft. "There are weaponry and equipment dealers here
stocked with everything you could possibly imagined. Evidently we are
meant to go into battle."
"But you've been here, what, weeks?" said Carr. "How come you
never went into the labrynth?" The thought of cowardice never entered
his mind. It would have been totally uncharacteristic for Captain
Croft.
"I tried, once," said Croft softly. "But then the voice told me
to wait for you." And he pointed at Roger, who stood dumbfounded.
"Must we go immediately?" said Roger, making a face.
"No," said Croft. "There is no, hurry, I think. You people, in
any event, will probably want a few more days of rest."
It was their second day in the enclosed city. Roger wanted to go
outdoors, even though there was nothing but desert on the horizons, but
no door seemed to open to the outside.
"But Carr hasn't been resting, that's for sure," said Roger,
wondering where Carr had been spending all his time. If he had thought
about it, the answer would have come quite easily. Carr was busy
mulling over strategy for the upcoming trial with Captain Croft. The
Professor was consulted on technical details, but it was the two of
them who drafted the plan. Carr also went to the weapon shops,
sometimes in the company of Croft or the Professor, and would look
through the merchandise. Carr didn't purchase anything, at least not
at first; he seemed to be browsing, even though he had an unlimited
expense account.
Two more days passed. Roger didn't do very much; mostly, he
slept, and walked around. He didn't like to admit it, but he was
getting bored. But a tremor of terror still settled upon him when he
heard the announcement on the afternoon of the fourth day. "Attention,
attention. Will all the new guests from the previous frames please
assemble in conference room C-4. A briefing on the labrynth will
commence in ten minutes."
It had begun.
They all met in the conference room. Somewhat surprisingly, Carr
was the last to arrive, coming in at a measured but brisk stride, his
attention focused on a stack of papers he held.
The six of them--Carr, Roger, Spanner, Ug, the Professor, and
Captain Croft--were the only ones in the room. They all took seats
around a long oval table. In the center of the table was an audio
device.
Roger glanced at Captain Croft. There was not even a hint of
anxiety in the spaceship captain's face. He exuded confidence, but not
openly, like a braggert. It was as if Croft was sure of his ability
but not oversure; he was a man who knew his limits, but his limits
exceeded those of most men.
Carr was confident of Captain Croft's experience and knowledge.
He had been following Croft's exploits for years, ever since the
Starside Cluster incident, which had first propelled Croft to fame. It
had been twelve years ago, and Captain Croft's ship, a standard deep
space cruiser, had been ambushed on patrol by five marauder destroyers,
just outside the Klaterian Asteroid Belt. Each destroyer was nearly an
equal for Croft's own ship.
But Croft was no fool. Quite the contrary, he had realized that
this region of space would be perfect for just such an attack, and he
had detected the ambush before the marauders could spring their trap.
But instead of taking evasive maneuvers, Croft had headed toward the
marauders at full seed. The destroyers, closely bunched together, knew
that anniliation was certain if collision occurred. So they spread
out, all veering in different directions. Thus Croft had, in a stroke,
broken their battle formation.
As Croft's ship speeded by the destroyers, into the asteroid
belt, it knocked out one of the evading destroyers, who were all too
busy maneuvering to effectively fire back. But when they did regain
control they pursued Croft. It was difficult to discern who was the
hunter and who was the hunted, for Croft was not trying to get away; he
was stalking the very ships that were pursuing him!
Croft's cruiser had gained the advantage during this deadly hide
and seek game, and came up behind a second marauder destroyer, blasting
it at nearly point blank range. The three remaining destroyer captains
were more alert after that, however, and were not easily taken by
surprise.
Suddenly, Croft's deep space cruiser encountered a marauder
destroyer head on, and a slugging match of lasers and missiles
commenced. It was over in seconds, with the destroyer incinerated but
the cruiser absorbing some heavy hits. Croft had quickly assessed the
damage, knowing instantly that his ship couldn't survive another head
on assault such as that. The forward force shields had been damaged,
and several of the main weapon systems were knocked out. And there
were still two destroyers left.
While his crew scurried about, rapidly repairing damaged systems
as best they could, Croft had ordered a shuttle loaded with a warhead.
This was quickly launched by remote pilot while the crusier continued
to weave through the asteroids.
When the fourth destroyer encountered the cruiser, the marauder
captain also picked up the small shuttle reconnoitering ahead of the
cruiser. Figuring, wrongly, that this was a scouting platform for the
cruiser, the marauder gave the order to open fire, first on the
shuttle, and then on the cruiser.
The destroyer weaponry officer fired on the shuttle, but never
got around to the latter part of his captain's orders. The explosion
sent shock waves through Croft's damaged ship. But the destroyer,
which was considerably closer, had sustained significant damage. But
more importantly, the explosion had rapidly propelled the destroyer in
an unexpected direction, causing it to crash against a small asteroid.
A cheer had gone up among the cruiser's bridge crew as they saw the
fireball on their monitors.
Captain Croft had smiled too. They had destroyed four marauder
destroyers. But the ship had taken casualties, and vital systems were
damaged. It was time to break off the attack. Figuring that his drive
unit, which was still undamaged, could outrun the final destroyer,
Captain Croft had given the order to clear the asteroid field and set a
course for home.
Croft was correct; when the last destroyer spotted them, the
cruiser had already cleared the asteroid field and had a sizable lead.
Croft's comm officer monitored a dispatch from the remaining destroyer.
What Croft didn't expect was the response. His comm officer told him
the response had come from close by. Very close by.
Out of the asteroids it came. A battleship. The marauders
weren't previously known to have battleships. Croft had quietly
monitored the scanning report. It was a big bruiser, and modern too.
Needless to say it outgunned the cruiser in every critical aspect by a
wide margin.
And it was faster.
Croft had checked the scans. Based on the rate it was gaining
and his estimate of the enemy's weapon range, Croft estimated he and
his crew had less than ten minutes to live. The crew had been well
trained, and they didn't panic, but the worry was palpable, and they
all felt despair. No one had dared posed a question to Croft; no one
asked him what he intended to do; it was as if they all expected him to
have a plan, but were afraid to ask. If Croft did not have a plan, all
hope would surely be lost.
Croft had just sat there, silently, in his command chair. He
hadn't said a word, not a word. There was nothing he could have done,
nothing... unless something outside of his control occurred. It had
been a small hope, but not one that he shared with his men.
He had ordered maximum strength to the rear force shields. It
wouldn't have made much difference, of course; perhaps it would have
bought them a few seconds, at most.
Fighting had not been not an option; in order to bring most of
his weapons to bear, he would have had to turn the ship around, and
then its vulnerable front side would have left them open to an even
quicker destruction.
The gap between the two ships closed. The last marauder
destroyer, which could not keep up with the speed of either ships,
slowly started to fall behind. But no one paid any attention to it;
all eyes were focused on the battleship.
The miles closed; no one said anything to the Captain; they
trusted his instincts, they trusted his mood. If there was anything to
be said, if there were any order to be given, he would say it.
There. By Croft's estimate, the cruiser was just within range of
the battleship's broad lasers. But there was no sound. Despite his
taut internal emotional control, he allowed himself to hope, just a
little.
He took several breaths. There, they were definitely in weapons
range now. And the battleship wasn't firing. There was a chance.
Croft was alert again, barking orders even before the beam hit.
It was an attacher beam, pulling the cruiser with a jerk, slowly
dragging it in. Croft obligingly had ordered the engines off line.
Being boarded was their only chance. He had guessed, he had hoped that
the marauders might want to take his ship, a prize by any standard, to
turn to their own uses. But the tables could be turned.
The crew had rushed, hopping to Croft's commands. His orders had
not been very revealing, but for the first time since the crew had
thought themselves doomed men, a unquenchable spirit of optimism and
hope pervaded them.
The battleship had slowly settled side by side with the cruiser
as it aligned for docking. Its sheer bulk had dwarfed the cruiser by
comparison. A boarding party, some 150 strong, had been readied at the
docking port to board and occupy Croft's ship. Croft's crew, now
numbering little over 70, hadd been almost too busy to notice, making
preparations of their own.
When the invaders had burned through the cruiser's airlock, they
had been surprised by the light resistance. Perhaps light would be an
overstatement; there was utterly no resistance. No crewmember had
stood to face them.
Had they known who they faced, the marauders would never have
believed it. Captain Croft's men, cowering in fear? But the boarding
party had not been wholly without their wits; they had suspected
ambushes would be set up at critical points in the ship. Cautiously,
they had swarmed into the ship, advancing by the ranks.
The marauder admiral, in the safety of his own battleship bridge,
had taken the news with some curiousity. "No one? They must be
somewhere. Take the bridge and engineering immediately!"
The boarding party, fearful of the admiral's wrath, accelerated
their takeover. They rushed to the bridge. By the time they had
arrived, however, it was almost too late to be of any concern to the
marauder admiral.
For Croft had gotten his men suited up. They had exited the ship
and used tow lines to make their way, in zero-G, to the battleship's
hull. They had quickly forced their way into an airlock. On Croft's
cruiser this would have signaled a warning indicator; indeed, external
hull sensors would have warned of approaching intruders. But this had
been a marauder ship; the sole consideration in its construction had
been battle ability--the number of layers of armor, launch tubes, and
turrets that could be put on. Croft, leading his men aboard, had
stormed into the battleship undetected.
The marauder admiral didn't get wise immediately; his ship was
operating on a skeleton staff, as most of his men were aboard Croft's
cruiser. What few surprised marauders Croft's men encountered were
pacified before they could raise the alarm. Croft's men raced to the
strategic areas of the great battleship.
The admiral was surprised to hear the latest report. No crew on
the bridge? No crew anywhere? Where were they? A glimmer of a
thought started to form.
But the admiral's thoughts were interrupted when one of his
bridge crew came flying through the air, landing right in front of him
with a blaster burn in his torso. Croft's men had taken the bridge.
The admiral struggled to open the comlink to his troops on the cruiser,
but Croft was quicker, grabbing the mike from the admiral's hand.
Briskly pointing the business end of his blaster at the admiral, Croft
said, "Tell your men to surrender, admiral."
The admiral had known that if his boarding party returned, he had
an excellent chance of regaining control of the ship. But Croft knew
what the admiral thought even before he had thought it. "Do it! We
control the docking corridor to the cruiser. You'll only be saving
your own lives."
The admiral had reluctantly complied.
Some time later, when the remaining destroyer had caught up with
the battleship and the damaged crusier, the destroyer crew cheered.
The destroyer captain sent a congratulatory message to the battleship.
The battleship responded with a barrage of laser bursts from its main
guns, scrapping the last destroyer.
Captain Croft had singlehandedly eliminated five enemy destroyers
and captured a battleship. This was to be only the first time that he
turned down a promotion to the admiralty.
From that time on Captain Croft's exploits, and reputation only
increased. It was Carr's opinion that he was one of the best military
tacticians in the galaxy. Who better to have with them while
undergoing the rigorous trials of the Cube? It was almost as if it his
presence had been arranged.
In the conference room they sat, and they waited. Spanner was
certain that more than ten minutes had past. He was bored. He had
come looking for the Cube of Power, and here he was, stuck in this
boring room, drumming his fingers. Spanner was not afraid of the trial
they were about to face; he considered himself superior enough to
survive any test.
What did Spanner want with the Cube of Power? To perform his
practical jokes, of course. Once he had the Cube of Power, Spanner
would turn the galaxy upside down, if it amused him. Had he known
Spanner's thoughts, Croft would have been most alarmed at the prospect
of Spanner obtaining the Cube. Enormous power--utilized for mere
jokes. The others could not understand it. But jokes were Spanner's
life.
Spanner smiled, recalling a particularly memorable prank.
Several years ago Spanner had gotten himself invited to a party at a
foreign embassy. All the prominent diplomatic community had been
invited; how Spanner got in was not known. But sneak in he did,
totally undetected, several hours before the party began. He then kept
himself busy reprogramming the servant robots.
The party began, but it took some time for the slow-witted guests
to realize that something was seriously wrong. It started with the
robobutlers. When one guest handed his coat to a robobutler, the
robobutler let the coat drop to the floor. When the delegate reached
down to pick up the coat, the robobutler slapped him twice. When
another guest requested a menu, a robowaitor let a menu drop to the
floor. The delegate would reach down to pick it up, but the robowaitor
would bend down too, slapping the crouching delegate twice.
After a time the guests caught on to this and stopped picking up
after the robots. But Spanner, frustrated that his enjoyment had been
terminated too soon, had been prepared for this contingency. He
depressed an activator, and all the servant robots went on a mad spree,
picking up guests, dropping them, and slapping them twice.
Yes, if Captain Croft or Carr had better knowledge of Spanner's
inclinations , they would certainly been alarmed. Most alarmed.
"How much longer are we going to wait?" said Spanner, shifting
restlessly in his chair.
"You're free to leave," said Carr, hoping he would take up the
invitation.
Spanner just scowled wordlessly.
Ug was bored as well, only he didn't complain. It was good to
see Captain Croft and the Professor again. Ug also liked Roger, but he
had a healthy dislike for Spanner. As for Carr, his primitive feelings
were more mixed. He didn't really like Carr, but he did respect him.
The object of Ug's grudging respect just sat there, studying his
papers. But he wasn't reading. He too was thinking of his companions.
It seemed that during every trial the party recruited another
companion. Another thing Carr had noticed was that every trial forced
them to face a guardian, inevitably a robot. But where did Roger fit
into all this? Although he had been instrumental in aiding their
escape from Rack's domain, more often than not he had been a liability,
not an asset. In fact, Roger was more comic relief than anything
else....
"Attention, attenion," said the loudspeaker in the center of the
table. "This is the management. This is the management. Again, we
wish to welcome you to the fourth trial. We hope you enjoy your stay
here. Be sure to enjoy our extra large sized swimming pools on level-"
Carr, tuning out for the moment, wished the travel brochure would
come to an end.
"-other entertainment can be reached by asking at the information
desk. But, if you have firmly decided to end your lives, you may, at
your leisure, proceed into the labrynth. Enjoy the remainder of your
stay here."
"Wait!" said Carr, hoping this was not just a recording. "What
can we expect in the labyrnth?"
"The trial," said the voice.
"Can we take anything in with us?" asked the Professor.
"Yes," said the voice. "I should have thought that would be
obvious. As you seem set on this course, enjoy what little time
remains in your life."
"Wait!" said Carr. "Talk to us!"
"It's no use," said Captain Croft. "It only talks when it wants
to."
Carr turned to the Captain. "I think it's time to start
equipping ourselves."
"Sounds like we're walking into a death trap whatever we take,"
said Spanner.
"Cold feet?" Carr inquired.
Spanner glared at him.
Roger almost wanted to suggest, as a sort of trial balloon, that
they might want to stay in this time zone. After all, it was
comfortable here, and they would be safe. The voice had obviously been
suggesting this to them as a viable option. But Roger was certain that
the others would go on, and he didn't want to be left alone.
They left the conference room, and went to the shops. Carr
studied the weapons racks, the weaponry he had been analyzing for the
past four days in an effort to make the right choice. Money was no
problem, but encumberance was--he could only use one weapon at a time,
and there was only so much each of them could carry. The choice was
difficult to make, if only because the selection was so varied. There
were the latest laser rifles, energy pistols, and even turbolaser
technology! Carr's mouth watered at the sight of an advanced
lightbeamer; but it would be too heavy to carry. He and Croft
consulted one last time on weaponry, while the rest of the party made
their choices.
Everyone elected to purchase their own personal force shield,
even Ug, who agreed to wear one although he didn't really understand
what it what its purpose was (Croft told him it was a "good thing", and
that was enough for Ug). This thin device, strapped to the chest,
would project a force field that would protect them from a wide range
of projectiles and beams.
Professor Krenay and Spanner both chose to purchase a blaster; it
was relatively light, and easy to wield, especially at close quarters.
Carr and Captain Croft each purchased several different types of
weapons, although Carr's favorite was the turbolaser. To Roger it
looked a little like a submachine gun, except it was adorned with all
sorts of knobs and indicators. and a large scope was mounted on top of
it. "This is marvelously light," marvelled Carr. "I've never seen one
this light, much less this compact."
Ug didn't purchase any weapons; he clenched his fists, as if to
emphasize that all of his weapons were already mounted and armed. But
Roger elected to remain unarmed as well, much to Carr's disgust.
"Here," he said, tossing Roger a blaster.
Roger fumbled with it, nearly dropping it. "I'm useless in
battle!"
"I know," Carr sighed, returning to the task of equipping
himself. Their funds did seem to be unlimited, but despite his days of
planning he was still unsure what to purchase.
Then Captain Croft spoke up. "I advise everyone to purchase
PolyDask Command Armor." They all glanced at the suit. It looked
encumbering. They didn't lightly discard the Captain's advice, but
with their personal force shields, they thought, they should all be
safe. Even Carr declined, feeling that the tradeoff in speed and
maneuverability wasn't worth it. Only Captain Croft bought one.
Roger was dazzled by the display of equipment. Most of it was
foreign to him; indeed, some of it even Carr had not heard of. Not all
were weapons; there were certain electrical devices, some of which the
party purchased, that Roger was not familiar with.
They did not leave immediately, but stayed three more days,
making it an even week. They were encamped at a hotel on level E-2.
It was all free, of course. Roger took the advice given to them and
tried out the pool. Shortly thereafter Ug joined him. To Roger's
surprise, Ug unhestitantly plunged into the water. But, while eager,
he was unskilled: he quickly sunk. Swimming was a concept quite
unfamiliar to Ug. But he saw Roger doing it, and after a time Ug
imitated him in a clumsy doggie paddle style.
Spanner spent his free time playing tricks on the hotel staff.
But no matter how childish his attempts, how outrageous the pranks, the
staff never reacted. One time he put chocolate pudding on all the
chairs in the hotel lounge, but the guests just sat on them without
complaining. Roger, who had kept his eyes and ears open so as to
ensure that he would not be a target for any of Spanner's pranks, had
come to the conclusion that Spanner was a mean person who enjoyed
seeing people suffer. Spanner had come to the conclusion that Roger
was a pitiful weakling. It may be interesting to note that their
evaluations of each other were not far off the mark.
On the seventh day they departed. Their plans were set, their
weapons were at hand, and their backpacks were loaded with equipment
and even more weaponry.
As they checked out of the hotel (much to Roger's regret), he
asked, "What's our plan?"
But instead of an enigmatic or acidic reply from Carr it was
Captain Croft who responded, "There is no plan. How can we plan for
the unpredictable? But we have prepared for contingencies as best we
can."
"We're ready," Carr translated.
"And what about me?" said Roger. Wasn't there a part he was to
play? "What am I to do? Just watch?"
"That's usually what you're best at," said Spanner.
"Let's face it," said Carr. "You won't even carry a blaster."
"I have one," said Roger defensively. "In my knapsack."
"Quickdraw," said Spanner admiringly.
They reached the entrance to the labrynth. There, ahead of them,
was a large doorway with an explanatory sign above it.
"Forth trial of the Cube of Power," it read. Then, underneath,
was also written, "The Labrynth."
"Attention, attention," said the now familiar voice. "The
management hopes you've enjoyed your stay in this time frame and wishes
you a happy and long life--which, by our projections, is little more
than twelve and a half minutes." The door slid open. The party
exchanged glances. Then, with Captain Croft in the lead, they entered.
Their force shields were activated, their weapons ready. They looked
like heavily armed troopers about to storm a fortress.
The party entered a bare room composed of four metal walls. When
they had all entered, the door slid shut behind them.
"Hey!" cried Roger.
"You didn't really think they'd let you go back once you came in,
did you?" said Carr, quite reasonably.
"Welcome to the labrynth," said the announcer-voice. "We don't
often get customers, so we're a little anxious to try you out. We'll
try not to be overeager, but you have no one to blame but yourselves if
you don't live beyond the first or second encounter."
First or second, Roger thought. Just how many would there be?
A door slid open on the far side of the room. They went through
it, one by one. This also was a featureless metal walled room. The
door they had entered swung shut behind them. They noticed an exit on
the other side of the chamber.
The party cautiously started walking forward. Suddenly, a dozen
robots materialized in front of them, armed with laser pistols.
Despite the party's state of alert, the robots were quicker, opening
fire on them first.
The robots scored a series of impressive hits; most of the party
recoiled from the effect of the laser hits. But they were otherwise
unharmed. Their force shields protected them. Unfortunately for the
robots, they were not similarly equipped, and they were all gunned down
in short order by the party. Carr even took out two at the same time,
one standing behind another, by using his turbolaser. He torched a
hole through both of them in one shot.
As they looked over the sputtering metalic remains Carr
commented, "There, that wasn't so much of a chore, was it?"
Roger was a little shocked; the robots had just appeared out of
nowhere. He had also been hit, only to see death bounce off his force
shield. Or had it?
"Were they, were the lasers set to stun?" asked Roger.
The Professor picked up one of them, examined it. He shook his
head. "They're playing for keeps."
Roger felt ill.
Spanner picked up a piece of a robot hand. When he saw Roger
staring at him, he smiled, "Soveigneir."
"That was good work," said the hidden announcer with mock praise.
"Of course, this first test always builds up the confidence. Nearly
everyone gets by this one."
Silently, they moved single file into the next chamber. This one
also was empty.
"Halt!" said Croft, holding the others back at the entrance.
"What is it?" said Carr.
"Don't you feel it?"
Carr said, "I'm not sure."
Croft turned to Ug. "Ug?" he said. He knew that Ug, the hunter
type, had very good senses.
"Ug," said Ug affirmatively. "Something here."
"What?" asked Roger. "The room's empty."
"Professor, hand me the ultrawave scanner," said Croft.
The Professor unclipped a small device from his belt.
Croft studied it as he slowly turned it in several direcitons.
"Ah, I see it now."
Carr stood by Croft, looking at the display panel. "You were
right," he said.
"What is it?" the Professor asked.
"Not sure," said Carr. "Looks like some sort of creature
with huge tentacles. It's invisible to the normal spectrum; neat
trap."
"Shall I take the honors?" said Croft, returning the ultrawave
scanner to the Professor and lifting his laser rifle. There were no
objections. They all knew that were not for Croft they all would have
stumbled into it.
He lifted, aimed, and fired. The beam seemed to go halfway
across the room before it hit. They heard a loud howling sound that
continued for several seconds. The sound vibrated, shivering through
the bones in Roger's body.
"Is it... dead?" Roger asked.
"Professor?" said Croft.
The Professor studied it. "There's no motion. But that means
nothing."
"Well, who will go, then?" said Spanner, assuming that someone
would have to be taunted into doing it.
"I will," said Croft bravely. He walked as close as possible to
the far wall, heading for the doorway on the other side. He edged
across slowly, and carefully, the only sound to be heard being the
slight squeaking from the heels of his tall black spaceman's boots.
Suddenly he appeared to trip, and, falling to the ground, he was
slowly but inexorably dragged to the center of the room.
"Why the- it was playing dead!" Carr cried. He aimed his
turbolaser, but Croft was now in the way; Carr couldn't get a clear
shot. Carr tried to manuever to get a free shot from another angle
But the creature grabbed him too, grabbing him in one of its huge
tentacles. Apparently the creature was capable of stretching them to a
great extent, for the Professor, standing at the entrance to the room,
found himself grasped and pulled in as well. The others couldn't open
fire without risking injury to their friends.
The creature tried to bite into Croft, only to have its teeth
blunted by his force shield. But Croft's shield was starting to
flicker; it was fading!
Carr was being pulled in just as Croft was. He was desperately
hanging onto his turbolaser as he was pulled closer and closer to the
monster's maw. He also kept a grip on his wits. Doing a bit of
triangulation, he estimated he had an unobstructed shot at the main
part of the beast. He opened fire with his turbolaser.
Technically, a turbolaser is merely a more effective version of a
laser or blaster rifle. But the supercharged particles it emits are a
multiple of the power that any standard beam weapon could emit.
The cretaure wasn't built to digest these supercharged particles
very well, and instead of absorbing the beam, it died, instantly
becoming visible.
Roger thought it looked like a huge octopus. He studied the
blast burn in the creature's hide, and shuddered. It had been a close
call.
His friends were still wrapped around the dead tentacles. They
struggled to free themselves of the sticky creature. The Professor
examined a tentacle.
"It was crumbling my force shield," said Croft, shaken.
"Look at this," said the Professor. "These suction cups are
electro-conductors."
"Naturally," said Carr, understanding immediately.
"Huh?" said Roger, slower than most.
"The creature absorbs power. That's why Croft's shield started
to fail, and that's why the laser attack didn't work; it absorbed the
energy."
"But Carr's laser destroyed it," he pointed out."
"It's not a gun, Roger, it's a turbolaser. The energy is so
concentrated, so intense, that even this beastie couldn't take it."
Carr gave the creature a boot, as if to say, "You're dead".
"That was a good show," said the announcer. "Pity you had to
cheat and use the ultrawave scanner."
"Whatever happened to, 'You'll only last 12 and a half minutes'?"
said Carr, taunting the voice.
There was no response.
"Let's go on!" said Spanner, getting impatient.
"Whoa," said Captain Croft. "We've got to talk tactics."
"What tactics?"
"We must learn from our victories as well as our mistakes," said
Croft. "In the future, we must always first check out a new room with
the ultrawave scanner. In addition, we need more powerful weapons. If
it weren't for Carr's turbolaser, we may not have survived."
Carr beamed. This was high praise from the great Captain.
"So what can we do about it?" said Spanner, now looking at his
blaster as if it were little more than a fly swatter.
"We'll just have to make do with what we have," Croft resolved.
"Set your weapons to maximum power, and concentrate on firing straight,
steady bursts. Your weapons will drain more quickly, but we have
replacement powerpacks, and if we run up against any more of these
creatures we just might have an effect."
They entered the next chamber; and as always, the door sealed
behind them to prevent their escape. The empty room, lined with the
shiny metalic walls, seemed identical to the previous chambers. They
all stood by the entrance as the Professor checked the ultrawave
scanner.
"Anything?" Carr inquired, hefting his turbolaser.
Krenay shook his head. "No, nothing here."
"Proceed with extreme caution," said Captain Croft, taking the
lead. As they made their way across the room towards the exit on the
other side, they noticed a shimmer, and one of those octopus creatures
materialized right next to them. This time it was wholly visible, but
it was only scant feet from the party, and it had the advantage of
surprise! Before they could react all six were grabbed securely by the
tentacles. Their force shields started to flicker, undoubtedly in
reaction to the draining effect of the tentacles. Roger recoiled in
revulsion; but, while the thing couldn't get through his force shield,
not yet, anyway, nor could he get loose.
They all squirmed in the creature's grip, but only Ug could make
any headway, pounding the tentacles with his mighty fists. But even he
was only slowly breaking free. And, one by one, they were being
dragged into the creature's enormous maw. When their force shields
went out, they would be done for.
Croft was the first to go. His force shield flickered a final
time, and winked out. The creature reached out, and mighty teeth bit
into Croft's arm.
Or tried to. For a new glow surrounded Captain Croft. It was
his PolyDask Command Armor. It kicked in the moment Croft's force
shield failed, and a new force field surrounded him.
Not many people in the galaxy are still alive that have even
heard of PolyDask Command Armor. No one is quite sure of the origin of
the technology. Several centuries ago, long after Raylen and the
Polynsci had fallen, an expedition to one of the remains of an
advisory arm discovered the pieces of some sort of space suit. A
talented physicist and mechanical engineer by the name of Barstan Dask
theorized that this was a suit of protective armor developed by the
Polynsci. The suit was inoperative, but Dask studied its design and
resolved to fix it.
And fix it he did, or at least as much as he could. The
protection it offered was not as great as the suit was originally
designed to offer, for much of Dask's reconstruction effort hinged
greatly on educated guesses and substitute materials, but the end
result was better than any personal force shield in the galaxy. Dask
figured out how to manufacture synthesized metals that made up the
tough yet nearly paper-thin exterior, as well as the protective field
around the suit that was so powerful as to dwarf the strenth of three
force shields worn simultaneously. And for a time the PolyDask Command
Suit was the rage of the galaxy, until the galaxy sunk even further
into decline and the PolyDask Armor, together with all the knowledge it
represented, was thought to be lost forever. And now Croft wore one,
albeit without a helmet. But even without the helmet it was quite a
protective device.
The creature was having a tougher time draining the Command
Suit's protective force field, much less breaching the physical armor
itself. But Croft was at a stalemate with the creature as well; as he
was grabbed he had dropped his laser rifle. More importantly, Carr had
also lost his turbolaser. Croft concentrated as he was thrashed about
by the creature. What... he had it! Reaching to his belt, he
unclipped the hilt of his energy sword. Carefull... mustn't drop it.
Croft's body was grasped tight by several tentacles that pushed him
this way and that, trying to drain the force from his PolyDask Command
Suit.
Croft pushed the activator, and a beam of light streamed out of
his energy sword. Carr, from behind, saw what he was doing. But he
had little hope; the energy sword probably wouldn't be strong enough to
seriously hurt the monster. Unless...
Croft pushed the button on the side of the hilt. The blade, its
bright yellow energy gleaming bright, suddenly changed color to an
awesomely pure blue.
Carr grinned; Croft knew exactly what he was doing! But he'd
have to act quickly; the rest of the party, while grasped by fewer
tentacles than Croft, still found their force shields draining rapidly.
Despite the fact that his arms were tightly wrapped to his side,
Croft managed to swing the energy blade in such a way as to swipe one
of the tentacles. It instantly cut loose, partially freeing him.
Croft, gaining some maneuverability, quickly cut the other tentacles
holding him. There was no time for delay; he plunged the energy sword,
up to the hilt, into the creature's center. It gave a shattering
scream, and writhed, and moved no more. Its tentacles went limp. The
party was free.
"Try to eat us, will you?" said Carr gleefully. "Great job,
Captain Croft."
"What... what did he do?" said Roger.
"Of course," said Spanner. "Energy sword that converts to anti-
energy blade, right?"
Croft nodded. He explained, mostly for Roger's benefit, "The
creature lived to absorb energy. When I switched to the anti-energy
blade, it just cut through it like butter."
Carr didn't say anything, but he was thinking how cleverly Croft
had equipped himself. True, Croft hadn't had the foresight to pack a
turbolaser, but he had been the only one in the party to wear a
PolyDask Command Suit. Carr remembered how, with the force shield, he
had thought it would be an unneeded encumberance. He made a mental
note to take Captain Croft's advice more often.
"Why didn't your wave thing detect the creature, Professor?"
Roger asked.
"Because it wasn't there to be detected," Croft answered for him.
"Our host has decided to materialize adversaries out of the blue.
Evidently it decided that this was the only tactic that could surprise
us. And this was a correct estimation. Why bother to make an enemy
invisible if you can simply make it appear, instantly, in any
location?"
"Indeed," said the voice. "Well, you survive this one, but don't
think your luck will last much longer. In case you haven't noticed,
it's getting harder."
They silently filed into the next room. Roger wondered how much
longer this could, or would, go on. Their force shields stopped
flickering, and grew strong again. Croft and Carr had made sure that
the ones they purchases were self-regenerating.
The next room was different. A force field blocked their passage
to the far side of the room.
"No problem," said Carr. "Professor, if you would?"
The Professor went through his pack for a moment, coming out with
a handheld magnetic field disrupter. This was a modern version that
they had purchased locally. He fired it in the force field's
direction. They waited.
Carr's grin faded as the time progressed. The force field
remained intact. "It's supposed to be drained!" he said.
"It should be," agreed Croft.
"That's right," said Spanner. "But have any of you ever
considered that it might be something just like the Line of Death, hm?"
He could be right, Croft thought. But better not to take any
chances. He checked the indicator on his wrist mounted power scanner.
"I get a power reading; it looks real enough."
"But how? By the known laws of the universe this field should be
drained," said Carr. "Unless it's of some enormous power... or a
different kind of power...."
They stood there puzzling over it for a while. Roger looked at
the force wall. It looked as real as the Line of Death had. Which
meant it could be anything. With the kind of power the Cube possessor
was utilizing, who was to say what was beyond the realm of possibility?
In fact, how could they even know that anything they saw or did
was real?
"Say, Carr," Roger began.
"Quiet," he replied. "We're thinking."
"Captain Croft," began Roger again.
"Please, Roger," said the Captain, deep in a huddle with Carr.
"Professor?" pleaded Roger.
"Yes, Roger?"
"Why do you think that the force field over there is real?"
"Our instruments show that the force field is radiating energy."
"But if the force field were imaginary, couldn't your instrument
readings be imaginary too?" Roger reasoned.
Carr and Croft stopped, in mid sentence. "That's a real
possibility," said Croft.
"But what kind of test can we conduct to find out?" said Carr.
"As we well know, we can toss an inanimate object into it, only to have
it appear to disintegrate, real or not."
"How about an animate object?" Spanner grinned.
"What do you mean?" said Croft, suddenly obtuse.
Spanner kept grinning. "Would you like a volunteer?"
"That's very brave of you," said the Professor.
"Oh, I didn't mean me; I meant Roger," he said, giving Roger a
strong shove that sent him into contact with the force field.
Chapter Ten
Trying Times
"Aaaagh!" they heard, as Roger disintegrated before their eyes.
"You've killed him!" cried Carr, instantly raising his turbolaser
to Spanner's head.
"We had to test out the theory, one way or another," said
Spanner, backing away. "Think of it this way; I helped cut short the
debate."
"That's not going to be the only thing cut short," said Carr,
finger tense on the trigger. But Ug beat him to it. He grabbed
Spanner, and started to choke him with his huge hands.
Spanner started to scream. It was a high-pitched, scared sound,
like the sound someone makes when he realizes that he's suddenly going
to die. The others were watching, more or less approvingly, when they
heard it again.
"Aaaagh!"
It wasn't from Spanner; his scream was a higher octave, more
sqeaky sort of sound. Moreover, it was coming from the other side of
the room. It did, however, sound a lot like the way Roger wailed for
help.
"Help!" they all heard.
That got their attention. Ug released his hold on Spanner,
letting him drop to the floor like a dangling salami that's just been
cut down.
"Roger?" said Carr uncertainly.
"Help!" they heard again.
"Where are you?" Croft said.
"Hanging onto the edge of this pit. And there are some nasty
spikes at the bottom!"
"I don't understand," said Carr.
"I crossed the field and found myself falling. I was barely able
to catch onto the edge."
"Pit?" said Carr uncertainly, lookinat the smooth floor beyond
the force field.
"Well, if the field is an illusion, the solid floor beyound it
could be illusory as well," reasoned Croft. "Neat trick."
"Help me!" cried Roger, feeling forgotten.
"Just hang on," said Carr. "We'll be there in a minute!" Then,
in a hushed tone, he spoke to Croft. "If we cross over, we'll fall in
too."
"Do we have any rope?" Croft asked.
They all quickly checked their packs.
"Remarkable," marvelled Croft. "We all forgot to bring rope."
"Um, guys, I can't hope on much longer," said Roger, feeling his
hands starting to give. He gave a glance down. It was a long drop,
but he could clearly make out the spikes at the bottom.
"I know how the Earthling can be saved," said Spanner, who had by
now stopped choking and was rubbing his sore throat.
"Are you speaking?" said Carr, not foretting his incredible
treachery.
"Well, if you're going to speak to me in that tone," he said,
looking aloof.
Ug, arms outstretched again, started to growl menacingly.
Spanner wisely decided this was not the time for taunts. "Well,
ok. Here's what you do. The pit may be too wide to jump across,
right? So just have the barbarian here toss someone across the force
field and over the pit."
"Good idea," praised Carr. "Ug, go to it!"
"Hey, not me!" Spanner cried, as Ug picked him up and tossed him
across the room. He appeared to disintegrate as he hit the field.
"Spanner, did you make it?" Croft yelled.
"Yeah."
From his side of the room Spanner could see the pit. He reached
over , and with great effort he pulled Roger up.
"You!" said Roger angrily, as he sat, gasping, on the edge of the
pit.
"Hey, would you rather go back in? I could've left you here and
gone on to the next chamber, you know."
Suddenly Carr came sailing through the air, coming down just
beyond Roger. Landing on a hard metal floor didn't feel pleasant, but
Carr was none the worse for the experience.
"Why didn't you go on?" Roger asked.
The Professor sailed over them, landing abruptly. Croft
followed.
"Dunno," Spanner shrugged. But he did know. Spanner believed
that there was strength in numbers.
Suddenly Ug took a mighty leap and appeared, landing just beyond
the edge of the pit.
"That was really slick," said Spanner. "Fake forcefield, real
pit."
"But next time don't go sacrificing your friends!" said Carr.
"Hey, he's not dead, what do you want?"
"This incident tells us that we cannot trust our instruments
anymore," said the Professor. "We may just be taking illusory
readings."
"Indeed," said the hidden voice. "You learn from your mistakes.
Impressive. I expect that you will all learn a lot in the next
chamber. Assuming there are any of you left to learn."
"Just how much more of this do we have to go through?" Roger
moaned rhetorically.
They didn't expect a response, but they got one. "Lots and
lots," the voice cackled.
Actually, Roger might have been heartened by the fact that there
weren't that many more tests to pass. Unfortunately, had he precisely
known the level of difficulty of the succeeding tests, he would have
become depressed again. For the level of difficulty did indeed
increase from test to test. So for Roger, ignorance was unequivically
the best policy.
They entered the next chamber. A robot stood, facing them,
unmoving. "Your turn," it said, in a harsh metalic voice.
"Let me handle this," said Carr, aiming his turbolaser. The
robot obligingly stood very still as Carr blasted a solid shot at its
torso.
Only the shot had no effect; the robot wasn't even scratched.
Carr immediately recognized that it had a very powerful force shield of
its own. The minute he stopped firing, the robot said, "My turn,"
raising its arm blaster.
"What the-" Carr began, but was cut off as a blaster beam hit
him, sending him reeling against a wall. The attack didn't penetrate
his force shield, but he was dazed and obviously out of action for a
while.
The others, all except Roger and Ug, fired their laser and
blaster weapons at maximum intensity, but it was no use; the robot was
no longer standing still to absorb their ineffective shots. It moved
rapidly, firing on the party all the while.
Shifting left and right, avoiding laser fire, the robot scored
hits on each and every member of the party. Croft got out the magnetic
field disrupter from his pack, but the robot ducked in closed, grabbed
it from him, and tossed it to the other side of the room.
It was Professor Krenay who finally dealt with this adversary; he
fished a strange looking weapon out of his pack, and fired it at the
metal monster; it wheeled, started to run for the Professor, and fell
to the ground, unmoving. "Gravity gun," smiled the Professor. "It
temporarly increased the density of the robot's composition by nearly
seven times. It just became too heavy to move."
Croft, wasting no time, retrieved his magnetic field disrupter,
and applied it at full strength. Shortly thereafter the machine was
permanently deactivated.
After everyone had checked themselves over, rubbing sore bruises,
there was a spontaneous round of applause for the Professor. Krenay
smiled shyly, bowing his head.
"Good job," said Croft, grinning.
"Too easy," said the voice. "You need a real challenge. I don't
think there will be any clapping in the next room."
But their morale was on a definite rebound; the party had coped
with everything that had been sent against them. Even Roger was upbeat
as they entered the next room.
Once they had all entered and the door had slid shut behind them,
there was a hum, and they all immediately collapsed to the ground.
"Yes, I thought you deserved a taste of your own medicine," said
the voice. "A gravity field."
Plastered to the floor though he was, Croft said, "You... can't
kill us, with gravity."
"You're wrong, I can," said the voice smoothly. "But I won't" A
panel opened up on one wall, and a hoard of bugs emerged. "I'll let my
power leeches do it for me. They'll suck through your pitiful force
shields and then dine on your flesh."
Roger watched in horror as the creatures, thousands of them, so
it seemed, quickly crossed the short distance to the prone party and
started to swarm over them. They were ugly multilegged bugs, Roger
noticed. As they crawled over him Roger noticed his shield already
starting to flicker.
Croft surveyed the situaation. He couldn't kill the bugs; he
couldn't even move. Then, training his eyes upwards, he spotted the
glowing bar on the ceiling. A laser shot could take that out, he
agonized... but he couldn't even get the strength to aim his gun. He
was plastered there like a carpet, and the leeches were burrowing
through. Even his extra PolyDask Command Armor would only enable him
to survive a scant few minutes longer than his friends.
Painfully, Croft turned his head. He saw Ug lying right next to
him. "Ug," he said feebly.
Somehow, Ug managed to turn over and face him. "Laser," Captain
Croft gasped, moving his eyes from his fallen laser to the glowing bar
on the ceiling.
Ug strongly suspected that Croft wanted him to take the laser and
shoot the glowing bar on the ceiling. Ug had never fired a gun before,
of course; and the party had been afraid to arm him, if only because he
might, due to his inexperience with firearms, accidently shoot one of
them. But Ug understood how guns worked; the concept, though alien to
him, was simple--pull the trigger. But was Croft saying that he wanted
Ug to shoot the glowing thing on the ceiling?
Croft seemed to nod, moving his head a fraction as his eyes
locked with Ugs. Well, maybe that was what Croft wanted. Ug, of
course, did not realize why Croft wanted this done; but if it was
important to Captain Croft, Ug would do it, if he could. Ug slowly
stretched to reached Captain Croft's laser. Even for him this was
quite an exertion; the heavy gravity was definitely uncomfortable.
The leaches were streaming over the party, nibbling where they
could. Carr could see his force barrier being rapidly eaten away.
There wasn't much time left.
There! Ug grabbed the laser rifle. But his strength was quickly
ebbing. He pulled the trigger, and a laser beam shot out, barely
missing the prone form of Roger, who didn't even have the strength to
protest. Ug wondered what he did wrong.
"Aim," Croft rasped.
Oooh, that was right, he had to point it, too. Ug frowned. What
before had seemed like a simple weapon had suddenly grown complicated.
Ug titled the gun upwards. Under the heavy gravity it felt like an
enormous weight. Ignoring the pain, Ug pointed the gun, and fired.
Wham! He hit the wall several feet below the glowing wall. He grunted
as he aimed again; his muscles were weakening quickly. He fired,
missing this time by less than a foot.
Ug could not keep the rifle up for much longer. He tried to get
off one more shot, but the gun slipped, and, as it did, he pulled the
trigger. The gun fell to the ground. And as it clattered to the
ground, the hum stopped. Suddenly the tremendous weight left them, as
quickly as it had come.
Everyone moaned, getting up. It was Croft who first looked up,
at the scorched remains of the glowing bar. Ug had accidently hit the
bar on that final shot. Croft shuddered. That had been a close one.
They almost forgot, for a second, that they were surrounded by
the power leaches, even though they were all covered with them. The
party, under Croft's direction, set their weapons to low power and
fired on each other. Their force shields were still strong enough to
take the punishments; the power leeches, though natural consumers of
energy, could not.
When it was all over and their shields were slowly starting to
regenerate, Roger summed up all their feelings. "Yuck," he said,
looking at all the bug stains all over the floor.
"You got lucky," said the voice.
"That was close," Roger affirmed.
They spent little time resting as it was generally agreed that
they wanted to finish, once and for all, the labrynth tests as soon as
possible. The only objection came from Roger, who implored, "Can't we
somehow just go back?" he said unreasonably.
In a few minutes their muscles were sore but life had returned to
them, and their force shields were back up to strength. They filed
into the next room, but it was fear they now all felt. Even Captain
Croft felt some apprehension. As they each stepped into the next
chamber they all thought they saw, in a split second, a flash, and....
Croft blinked, and turned around. The party had disappeared.
"They can't help you, Half Commander Croft," said a voice.
Croft spun about. It was his old enemy, Fulgrim. He had fought
Fulgrim around the moons of Corenti IV; but that had been eight years
ago, when Croft was just a half commander. He had captured Fulgrim,
and the last he knew Fulgrim was still imprisoned on Corenti.
"How?" Croft demanded.
"I'm not here to answer your questions. I'm here to kill you."
That evil grin. Croft remembered it well. "Now, shall I kill you
quickly, or would you like to have a little fun first?" Fulgrim drew
his energy blade.
Croft wasn't worried. It was doubtful that the energy blade
could penetrate both his force shield and his Command Armor.
Then the energy blade turned blue, and Croft knew he was in
trouble. "Anti-energy," he gasped, reaching for his laser rifle. It
was gone. So was his blaster. Croft drew his own energy blade.
Fulgrim obligingly waited until Croft's blade had extended itself
to full strength. Then he lunged. Croft parried.
The blades seemed to dance around each other. Often one would
cut through air, perilously close to a swordsman's body. In anti-energy
mode force shields were totally useless. Croft tried to get through
Fulgrim's guard, but it was very difficult. Croft frowned; while
Fulgrim had been a capable marauder commander, he had never been very
quick on his feet. As the battle progressed Fulgrim almost sliced into
Captain Croft severeal times. His speed was just amazing. And he
didn't seem to get tired. Croft, however, grew tired very quickly.
It was all a matter of fatigue. One moment Croft was a second
too late in bringing his blade up, and Fulgrim sliced through his
defense, plunging his blade forward....
The Professor also noticed that his companions had disappeared as
he entered the next chamber. The door slid shut behind him. Krenay
turned, and saw the robot facing him.
"Greetings," it said. "Do not raise your weapons. I am
impervious to any attack. I, howeer, have an altered blaster which is
quitecapable of piercing your force shield." It indicated a hand
blaster at its side.
"So?" said the Professor cooly. If it were telling the truth,
why didn't it just dispose of him?
"Even in the labrynth, you will have a chance."
Could it read his mind? "What sort of chance?"
"You must answer a question."
"Ask away," said Krenay, his hand reaching down to grip his
gravity gun.
"Give me 4384738 to the seventh power. You have ten seconds."
"What? You want me to do that in my head?"
"Six seconds."
The Professor drew his gravity gun, and fired. There was no
effect. With his other hand he drew out the magnetic field disrupter,
and fired.
"Time's up." The robot took a step forward, as if to show that
it was unaffected.
Krenay took a step backwards. It was a futile gesture. The
robot drew its blaster, and fired.
Ug knew something was wrong when he was separated from his
companions. Facing him in the room was another barbarian, not unlike
one of those from Ug's tribe. "Ug," said Ug, by way of a cautious
greeting.
The barbarian approached Ug. In his hands was a device. He
pressed it, and a stream of foul smelling as emitted from its source.
The gas penetrated Ug's force shield. He started to feel dizzy. This
was an enemy! Ug knew that if he were to have any chance of survival
the time for hand to hand combat was now.
Even in his weakened state Ug knew he could beat any humanoid in
a contest of physical strenth. But this barbarian seemed stronger,
tougher. Ug tried to grip the barbarian, but he was thrown back, like
a rag doll. Ug began to realize that maybe this savage wasn't what he
seemed. As the gas started to take effect Ug felt consciousness
slipping away....
Spanner was also edgy about his sudden isolation from his fellow
party members. He turned about, looking for his allies.
"Who're you looking for, Spanner?" said a very familiar voice.
Spanner turned. The room was empty. "Who said that?" he
demanded.
The figure became visible. "I did."
"You!" said Spanner, shocked.
"What's wrong,don't like the way you look?" the figure jeered.
"You can't be me!"
"Can't I?"
"You are a robot duplicate," Spanner said. No robot was going to
make a fool of him.
"In form, perhaps," said the robot. "And, in weaponry," it
added, as it drew its blaster.
Spanner drew his own but it was too late; he was shot, forced to
the ground by the impact.
"Don't worry, you still have your force shield," said the robot.
"But as you an see, my reflexes are double yours."
"You can't kill me!"
"Can't I?' said the robot. "And can you dispose of me?"
"Listen, you walking can-opener, you may be stronger than me but
you've got a metal slab for brains." Spanner struggled to get up.
"Oh, that's what I always liked about us--I mean you," corrected
the robot. "Alwyays the indominable spirit. Well, we'll just have to
see what we can do to diminish that. Do you have any last words?"
"Ha!" said Spanner. "Let's just see you try to breach this force
shield!"
"No need," said the robot. And then it moved, with a terrible
speed, and flung Spanner against a wall. "You see, you aren't
concussion proof."
Before Spanner could move again, the robot was on him, throwing
him against another wall. It was batttering him to death!
Carr was worried when most of the party had disappeared. But at
least he had Roger with him. Roger wasn't the best companion, but even
he was definitely preferrable to being alone, here.
"Where did everyone go?" wondered Roger, as they enetered the
empty room.
"Probably some sort of teleport," Carr hazarded. He walked
forward.
Envile materialized, right in front of them.
"Oh, no, not you again," said Carr. "Haven't we gotten rid of
you enough times?"
Envile simply laughed and approached. Carr, stepping back, shot
him with his turbolaser. The shot went through Envile!
"Oh. Just a phantom," said Carr, relieved. And, sure enough,
Envile disappeared.
But instantly he was replaced by a squad of attack robots. Carr
fired at one; the hit jostled the automaton, as its force shield
absorbed the blast. "This time they're real, and armored!!" Carr
cried. "Roger, take your blaster out of your pack, quick. This time
you have to get involved." And Carr backed up, trying to keep Roger
behind him.
"Attack! Kill!" Carr heard Roger say.
Carr turned. "Attack? Kill?" Carr said. Recognition dawned
rather quickly. Bringing up his turbolaser, he shot Roger square in
the chest. The shot went right through Roger's force shield, burning a
hole in his torso. He fell to the ground, and the attack robots also
disappeared.
"What in the world is going on here?" said Carr, definitely
confused. With great caution, Carr checked over his fallen companion.
As he suspected, Roger wasn't bleeding; in fact, the blast hole was
gone! Roger suddenly came alive, grabbing Carr's ankle, forcing him to
the ground. As Roger wrenched the turbolaser from Carr and pointed it
at him, Carr realized in his remaining moments that this was no
ordinary robot....
Roger entered the room, following his companions. It was Carr
and Croft who ran the expedition; Roger was just stray baggage, tagging
along. In fact, he had yet to take his blaster from his pack. He was
glad to be out of the fray as much as possible. Death traps and killer
robots were not things he wanted to tangle with.
This room was not empty. On the floor in the center of the room
was... THE CUBE, THE GREAT CUBE OF POWER! The party let out screams
of joy. In the back of his mind Roger was wondering why they were
being given the Cube, even before they had completed the fourth trial.
"We've won! We've won!" Carr shouted. "Roger, get the Cube!"
"Me? You're the one who wants it; you get it." Roger didn't
want anything to do with it. All he wanted was for Carr to use it to
send him home.
"You've got to get it," said Croft. "You are the one."
"I am?" said Roger. "Can't you just walk over there and pick it
up?"
"You must, don't you remember what the Sage said?" Carr replied.
"I don't remember anything about my having to physically pick it
up." Roger thought they were being just a little bit too cautious.
But he was tired of arguing; if they wanted him to get it, he'd get it.
But then a thought occured to him. "Could anything... happen to
me, if I pick it up?"
"No, no!" It was the Professor who assured him.
Well, the Professor must know his stuff, Roger reasoned.
Roger walked forward to where the Cube lay. It was glowing, as
if it emitted power even as they spoke. It was a small thing, perhaps
five inches on a side.
Roger stood by the Cube. He looked back at the others, a good
distance away, looking apprehensive. "Don't you want it?" he said to
Carr.
"Just get it," Carr snapped, angrily.
Roger bent down to pick up the Cube--and stopped, before he
touched it. "I don't remember the Sage saying specifically that I was
the one who had to physically pick it up."
"It said you were the one who could obtain the Cube," Spanner
said.
"Oh," said Roger. He paused a moment, and stood up. Something
was decidedly wrong here.
"No," he said, standing up, thinking. How could Spanner have
known, verbatim, what the Advisory Arm had told him and Carr? Had Carr
told him? Spanner was acting out of character, nonetheless; Roger had
at the very least expected him to rush up and grab the Cube for
himself. And Roger was becoming quite familiar with clever illusions
and impersonating robots.
"Get that Cube!" Croft barked.
Now Roger was certain. This was not Captain Croft.
"No!" he repeated, with a defiance he had never shown before.
His "No!" echoed, reverberating... the energy blade didn't
strike Croft down... the robot faded from view before it fired on the
Professor... Ug woke to find himself unharmed... Spanner blinked, and
found himself not even bruised... Carr saw the phony Roger vanish
before his own eyes.
"What happened?" was the most commonly asked question, as they
suddenly found themselves all reunited. They each told of their own
story, and finally Carr said, "We've all been individually tested."
"And Roger is the only one who passed," said Captain Croft
grimly. "You saved us, Roger."
"Me? How?"
"He passed the test," said the voice. "Which is more than I can
say for any of you. It's a good thing he's the special one or else
none of you would be here right now."
"And now we've survived the labrynth," said Croft.
"Note quite. There remains one final test. If you pass that,
then you will have successfully survived this trial."
The doorway beckoned. "Well, this is the last one," Croft
declared.
"Do we have to go on?" groaned Roger, already knowing the answer.
The others did not bother to legitimize his silly question with a
response.
"Oh, all right," said Roger, following, not liking any of it one
bit.
The next chamber was empty. No robots, monsters, bugs, or traps
were evident. The team gripped their weapons more carefully as the
lighting seemed to surge for a moment. They moved on.
Amazingly, they reached the doorway out of the chamber without
mishap.
"I don't like this; it's too easy," said Carr.
"We have little choice," Croft reminded.
"I know that," said Carr irritably. "But I still don't like it."
They filed through the next doorway. The danger in the next room
was obvious; a squad of robots.
"They aren't even armed!" said Carr gleefully. "Let's blast
them!" They fired their weapons.
Click click click. They stared down at their armaments in
horror.
"Energy drain!" said Carr instantly.
"Look! Our force shields aren't working!" said the Professor,
alarmed. The glow no longer surrounded them.
"Ha ha ha ha," commented the announcer voice.
The robots started to march towards them. What chance did they
have hand to hand, with iron handed robots?
"The spare power packs are drained too," said Spanner, who had
quickly slapped one in and tested it.
And then Carr and Croft took out some of the bulkiest items from
their packs. They, at least, had been prepared.
Roger recognized the items they took out. "M-16 rifles, a modern
shotgun, and grenades," he said. "So that's why you brought all that
stuff."
Carr nodded, passing the weapons around. "We didn't want to rely
solely on energy-powered weapons."
By this time the robots had close din. But the party was armed;
even Roger took a rifle. But Ug wisely preferred to go hand to hand.
They opened fire on the robots. The small M-16 rounds did little
to stop the robots, but the shotgun, wielded by Carr, could knock out a
robot in one shot. Still, they were very close and there were many of
them. Ug wrestled with a robt. Carr blew one away with the shotgun.
Spaner took out two in the rear ranks with a hand grenade. But there
were still more closing in. A robot grabbed Roger and started to choke
him. This time there wouldn't be any force shield to protect him.
As he gasped for breath, the robot was thrown off him, to be
smashed under Ug's stamping feet. "Thanks, Ug," Roger gasped.
Two robots menaced the Professor. Carr, who was in the middle of
reloading, cursed, put a shell in, fired, and sent one crashing to the
ground, loaded with shrapnel. At least the robot armor wasn't
invincible. Spanner tripped the second robot. It went down, and before
it could get up, Ug was stomping on its head.
"So this was the last test," said Croft, eyeing the robot remains
for any sign of movement. "It was a good thing we brought along these
wapons."
And through that doorway must be the exit out from this place!"
said Roger, eagerly stepping forward.
"Halt!" cried Carr. He looked through the doorway. "That's no
exit. Look!" In the next room beyond they could see an identical
squad of robots. Waiting for them. Slowly, they started to march
forward.
"We're low on ammo," said Croft, inspecting their supplies. "We
can't stand another attack like that." Indeed, they had found the M-
16's to be almost useless against the robots. Carr only had a few more
rounds left in his shotgun, and there was only one more grenade.
"I thought this was the end!" Roger shrieked. "They told us this
was the last one!"
The robots were closing in. In seconds they would be at the
entrance to the party's chamber.
"Ug, hold them off at the doorway, at long as you can," said
Carr. "We've got to think! I just know we're missing something!"
"The voice," said Spanner. "It didn't speak this time."
"Yes, it did," said Roger. "I distinctly heard it laught."
"But it didn't sneer at us when we won this round, as it always
does," said Spanner. "Don't you see, we've already won."
"So you think the robots in the next room are illusion?" said
Carr, with some hope.
The first robot reached the doorway. Ug gave it a mighty heave,
pushing it against its companions.
"Scratch that theory," said Carr.
"We've never been lied to, as far as we know," said the
Professor. "I say we've passed the last test of the labrynth."
"I agree," said Captain Croft. "But where's the exit?"
"Maybe it's hidden," said the Professor, looking at the walls.
"I wish we could use our density detector," said Carr. "But it's
drained."
"No need," said the Professor. "We'll just use the old fashioned
way." He started to tap on the walls, listening to the sounds he made.
Ug was still battling the robots at the room's exit. He kept
flinging them back as they came forward, but even his brawny arms were
getting tired.
"I found it!" said the Professor, tapping a section of the wall.
"Listen!" he said, tapping it again. Indeed, it sounded hollow.
"Great, it's hollow," said Spanner. "But how do we get through a
metal wall?"
"Ug, you bash the wall," Carr commanded. "I'll handle the
remaining robots."
Ug complied. Carr took his place at the doorway, firing round
after round. Suddenly, his gun clicked and he knew he was out of
ammunition. Surviving robots struggled to get up and continue the
assault.
"Here?" Ug asked the Progessor, who nodded vigorously when Ug had
reached the right spot. Ug punched the wall, and a wide section of it
broke inwards like brittle cardboard. There was indeed a passage
there, a dark tunnel.
"Ok, everybody in," Croft yelled.
As they piled into the tunnel a robot challenged Carr at the
doorway. Carr used his empty shotgun like a club, swatting the
machine to the floor. But a group of the robots had gathered together
for another attack, and were all rushing for the doorway at the same
time. There was nothing Carr could do to stop them.
Carr suddenly felt himself being lifted out of the way. "Me
handle," said Ug. "You go."
For a moment, their eyes met. Carr studied Ug's dull look.
Brave, he thought, but pretty stupid. Carr rushed to the tunnel.
The others had already gone in. As Carr scampered into the
passage, he woundered if Ug would make it. Seconds later, he heard
hoarse breathing behind him. "Ug!" he said.
"Metal men crunch no more," grunted the savage, obviously none
the worse for his experience.
Whether any robots survived or not, it appeared that none pursued
them.
The passage emerged into a well lit chamber.
"Welcome," said the voice.
"A computer," said Croft, not very surprise. "We're used to
robot guardians."
To Roger the consoles and flashing lights looked identical to the
Advisory Arm on Arashum. There were rows and rows of lights,
machinery, and consoles, all along the walls.
"Are you ready to proceed?" said the voice.
"Yes," said Carr.
"Ok, which one of you wants to go onto the next trial?" the
computer asked. "Only one of you can go; the rest must perish. That's
the rules, you know."
There was a long silence for a moment. The atmosphere became
very tense. They all started looking nervously at one another. Only
Croft seemed unaffected, staring, apparently calmly, at the machine.
His gaze may or may not have had an effect, but the computer
suddenly spoke. "Just joking! Can't you guys take a joke! You all
get to go."
As the surroundings seem to fade, Captain Croft gave the thumb's
up sign.
Chapter Eleven
The Fifth Trial
"This place reminds me of Bane's dominion," said Roger, staring
through the mist. He could barely see more than a few feet ahead.
But they weren't going anywhere. The party was unanimously
exhausted from their exertions of the previous trials, and they all
needed a rest. They sat down, feeling the hard cold ground beneath
them. All they could see around them was the swirling mist.
Roger was not merely physically exhausted from the last trial; he
was emotionally drained as well. It had been by far the most
frightening trial they had confronted, as well as the most violent. He
hoped Carr was right in believing that there were only five trials,
making this the final one; for Roger couldn't take much more of this.
Roger thought about the trials on a more abstract level. He
realized that the parallel with Earth was tenuous, but still present.
In the first trial, the cavemen matched those that must have existed in
Earth's prehistoric past. Of course Bane, and his powers were out of
place in that era.
The second trial had been a more accurate portrayal of Earth
history, this time of the old 1800's. Of course, Rack the robot had
been out of place, as had been the introduction of advanced technology.
Roger shuddered when he recalled the dreadful remote controlled pig
bomb. That had been a close escape.
The metropolis of the third trial had looked and seemed like some
southwestern city, aside from the fact that the people were all
somnolvent zombies. But the architecture, the stores, the foods, the
books, all were appropriated, or copied, from contemporary Earth. In
fact, it was so similar, that for a time Roger had forgotten of his
yearnings for home.
The futuristic city of the fourth trial could plausibly
represent Earth's future. But this gloomy, misty place--could this
resemble any Earth history, past, present, or future? Somehow Roger
doubted it. Whomever was copying Earth history, he was replicating it
only to the extent that suited him. Again Roger wished that the worst
would be over, and that he could return home.
Carr also hoped that they had put their most harrowing trial
behind them. They had had several narrow escapes, some too narrow for
Carr's comfort. Carr was a risk taker, but he wasn't suicidal. He
realized that coming to Clashik at all had been to take an enormous
risk, but it had been worth it. Possessing the Cube of Power was the
only thing that was important for Carr. With it he could have
anything, possess everything, do anything he chose. He would have
nearly complete and limitless freedom and power. Carr had never
thought specifically what he wanted to do with the Cube, once he got
it; but he was sure that in time, he would think of something. Many
somethings.
On another matter, Carr realized that he had misjudged Roger. At
first, he had thought, quite rightly, that Roger was a cowardly
Earthling who mostly tended to get in the way. This discription still
seemed to exemplify the Earther, but there was also an evolution, a
change. The Earthman seemed to be more resolute, less paralyzed by
fear. He had kept a level head and had proved useful when they escaped
from Rack; and from what he had told Carr of his own personal trial, he
had shown resolution beyond what Carr would have expected of him. This
didn't mean that Carr felt he could rely on Roger; for the most part,
the Earthling still was a cowardly lion. But a change was evident.
Carr had noticed this change because he knew a lot about
Earthpeople. As he had told Roger, his frenzied dash to Earth had not
been his first visit there. Several years earlier, he had dropped by,
just for a look. He had been out to tour the galaxy, and at the time
Carr had thought that primitive societies were "quaint." When he had
arrived at Earth he sampled various aspects of Earth society; movies,
cars, parks, silverware, and yes, weapons. That knowledge had proved
very useful to him in the last trial. He had been dismayed by the
projectile weapons at first, but, realizing their use, knew them to be
of great value in energy-starved environments.
The concept of using projectile weapons had also crystalized from
Carr's visit to the planet Lakris. By an odd design of nature, all
energy on Lakris was almost instantly drained at its source. Carr
noted with fascination how the people of Lakris were unable to enjoy
electricity, blasters, lighting, or any convenience that needed power
to operate. The Lakrins were even unable to go to other planets, for
spaceships were unable to land there (they crashed). Carr himself had
to study the planet with powerful sensors safetly from orbit, but the
idea of getting around without a power source stuck in his mind.
Croft, who had been nervous at times, was glad that, for the most
part, he hadn't shown it. He simply hadn't believed the final test at
the end of the labrynth; after they had survived all the hurdles
together, the machines had tried to split them apart its "joke" that
only one of them could continue on. But apparently now they were quite
close to the Cube of Power; Carr had said this was to be the last
trial. Carr seemed to be the prime contender for the Cube; Croft had
sized him up, and found him to be an extraordinarily capable
individual. But Carr wasn't a responsible person; he acted rashly, and
didn't seem to have the wisdom, or the patience, to be the best
possessor for the Cube. Croft decided to wait and see what developed.
Wait and see. That was precisely Spanner's attitude. The others
knew, to varying degrees, of his own designs on the Cube, and he was
sure they would never allow him to have it. But one thing at a time;
the first order of business for Spanner was to survive these trials.
Spanner had intensely hated the last trial; it had seemed like a long
series of practical jokes played on them for the amusement of the Cube
possessor. And however much Spanner loved practical jokes, it
infuriated him to be on the receiving end of them.
Ug just lay on the ground, half dozing. He was the most tired of
all, having lifted and thrown all of those metal men. Ug hadn't really
enjoyed the trial, but the combat gave him a welcome workout of sorely
underused muscles.
The Professor examined their equipment. "It's no use; it's all
drained. And we're out of projectile ammunition as well."
"So we're defenseless," said Carr grimly.
That statement was entirely correct. They had no weapons, and
their force shields were useless. Ug, Croft, and, to a lesser extent,
Carr, had formal training or experience in hand to hand combat, but
this was little comfort. Croft still had his PolyDask Command Armor,
but without power, he was only protected by the physical metal
composition of the suit.
But the party might have been comforted by the fact that their
weapons and defenses were not necessary in this trial. For they were
no longer being tested for their combat skills. This trial would be
won, if won at all, by the mind. Ironically it was Ug, the one the
party now perceived to be most able to suffer a trial among them, was
actually the least equipped in this regard.
They rested a little longer, and then got up, readying themselves
for their next march. Of course, they did not know where they were
going, nor in what direction; but Carr perceived, quite rightly, that
it really didn't matter. All directions would lead to the next trial.
And, not surprisingly, after they had trekked for little more than a
few minutes they spotted a landmark, among the gloom and the haze.
It looked like a campfire. As they approached, they saw a hodded
figure sitting by it, as if in concentration. The robes immediately
reminded Roger of Bane, and instinctively he knew that they were
confronting the guardian of the fifth trial.
Croft, thinking along similar lines, cautioned the others, and
instinctively tightened his grip on his now useless blaster. They
could, of course, simply flee, but obviously the Cube possessor
intended for this meeting to take place, and the being in the robes
might impart some useful information. For better or worse, this
confrontation had to take place.
"Hello," said Croft, standing in front of the others.
The figure turned looking past Croft, singling out Roger. "I
have been expecting you. Welcome."
"Me?" said Roger.
"And who are you?" Carr challenged. "Are you the guardian of the
fifth trial?"
The robed figure now addressed Carr. "Yes. And more."
"What sort of more?" Croft inquired. Good, it was talkative.
"I am also your next companion."
Carr suddenly recalled that in every trial they gained one
companion. An accident of chance? Or by design? And could a guardian
also truly be a loyal companion?
"Yes," the being answered.
It could read minds, Carr realized. Could this also be a robot?
"Yes," it answered again, throwing back its hood. A silent metal
face stared out at them. It was of the same build of the robots who
had attacked them in the labrynth. The others stepped back, half
fearing the robot would attack them. But it just sat there, by the
fire's side.
Carr explained to the others what had just transpired, for they
had only heard "Yes" in response to silence.
"So we have to eliminate you in order to finish the last trial?"
Carr inquired.
"No."
There was a flash of light. Everyone looked up. Suspended above
the campfire was a glass structure shaped like an hourglass. Sands
streamed from the upper part down to the lower half. Croft lowered his
blaster, which he had instinctively raised at the flash.
"What does this signify?" asked Croft crisply.
"When the sands reach their end, so will you," said the robot
criptically.
"How?" Croft asked.
"Captain Croft!" said the Professor. In the distance, through
the gloom, they could see a circle of light. The Professor approached
it. As he watched, the circle slowly contracted. It was closing in on
them. Krenay returned to tell the party.
"Ok, I get the picture," said Spanner. "If we're not out of here
by the time that thing contracts completely, we're done for."
The robot nodded.
"How much time do we have?" Roger asked.
"Enough," said the robot.
"Robot... do you have a name?" Roger felt that if they were
going to talk with it on a regular basis, it might as well have a name.
"Robot," said the robot. Roger wasn't sure it was answering his
question, but, in this exigent situation, Robot would do.
"Very well, Robot, since you're one of us now, do you know how to
get us out of here?" Roger felt uncomfortable dealing with the robot.
It looked so much like the robots which had earlier attacked the party.
But if it could tell them how to escape, Roger was willing to make the
attempt.
"Yes," said Robot.
"Well, Robot, since you're one of us now, won't you tell us?"
Roger wheedled.
"Yes."
This was like pulling teeth! "Tell us, please," said Roger,
eyeing the approaching ring of light. The others, purposely silent,
waited expectantly.
"The Cube of Power," said Robot.
"We don't have it!" said Carr. He wished they did. His first
act would be to wipe this obstinate robot out of existence....
"Think about it."
As this point the party was clever enough to take everything
literally, and they all proceeded to think about the Cube. They
thought long and hard about it. Nothing happened.
"Nothing's happening," cried Roger.
Robot was silent.
"Professor, could you dig the information out of that metal
contraption?" asked Carr, getting an idea.
"Maybe, in time," the Professor conceded. He studied the
advancing ring of light. "But in ten minutes? No way."
"Besides, that won't work; that's not the way we're meant to go,"
Croft suddenly realized. The Cube possessor would not let them cheat.
By now the sands were accumulating in a large clump on the bottom
of the hourglass, and the party huddled close to the fire to avoid the
approaching ring of light.
Croft tried to get more information from Robot. But the attempt
was futile. Futility! Carr laughed inwardly. He was suddenly
reminded of the Korrlebs of Korrleb VII. For generations, the Korrlebs
would once a year set out to try and kill the dreaded Alsome, a horrid
monster that ate anyone that got in its way. Every year some volunteer
went into the Alsome lair, never to return, destined to become little
more than an entre for the Alsome. This custom went on for a long
time, and for years bones piled up outside the Alsome cave before an
especially wise Korrleb made a suggestion: negotiate.
"No!"" the Korrleb King cried. A destructive mindless beast like
the Alsome simply could not be dealt with. Well, the wise Korrleb
circumvented the king and went into the Alsome lair himself. He came
out, sometime later, with an agreement, duly signed and notorized, in
which the Alsome promised not to eat any more Korrlebs if only the
Korrlebs would leave it alone and allow the Alsome some peace and
quiet. Actually, as it turns out, the Alsome preferred a vegetarian
diet and didn't find Korrlebs particularly tasty. Unfortunately, when
the king found out that his orders had been disobeyed, he ordered the
wise man tarred and feathered, and the agreement was shredded. To this
day a Korrleb is still sent into that cave every year, aggrevating a
misunderstanding and giving the Alsome a bad case of indigestion. The
wise man's efforts had been futile.
Similarly, Carr felt that Roger was simply wasting his time. He
knew the robot wouldn't reveal any critical information; after all, it
had been programmed by the Cube possessor.
Now Croft was having a go at the robot.
"Surely you can tell us something more," said Croft. "If we die,
you'll die, or be deactivated."
Robot looked squarely at Croft. "You are correct."
"How about a clue, a hint," suggested Croft, scrambling for
anything.
"Yes," said Robot.
"Well?"
"Him," said Robot, pointing a metal finger at Roger. "Think
about the Cube."
And that was all he would say.
In a few short minutes the perimeter of light would be upon them.
Already they had to keep close to the fire to avoid touching it. Now
they were all deep in their own thoughts. Just how could they get out
of this dilemma?
Spanner was clueless. There just wasn't enough information.
Think about the Cube? What did that mean? In his frustration he
smacked Robot across the head. Spanner reflexively grabbed his hand.
That hurt.
Croft couldn't figure out the puzzle out either. He fully
believed that all their lives would end if they did not do something
soon. But he was a space captain, not a clue hunter. What had he
missed? There was too much that was vague. He just sat there, feeling
stumped.
The Professor found himself thinking similar thoughts. What did
it all mean? Roger had indeed thought about the Cube. What more could
be done? What had they not tried? Was it all a matter of thought?
Of all of them, only Ug was not worried at all. He had fully
failed to comprehend the peril they were facing, and he was now
thinking about food.
Oddly enough, Carr wasn't very worried either, but, unlike his
burly companion, his confidence did not flow from ignorance. Indeed,
Carr was even a little cheery, whistling a bit. All of them stared at
him, a little surprised, as he took a yo-yo out of his pocket, and
started spinning it up and down. He returned surprised stares with a
grin. Carr had figured it out.
Or, at least, he thought he had. It all fit in with the pattern
of things. First, he had asked himself what the purpose of these tests
were. There did not seem to be any coherent abilities that were being
tested. What, puzzle solving? Fighting with robots? What was the
purpose? It didn't make sense. Sure, the alien who possessed the Cube
might be testing for unusual criterion; aliens were like that. But
these tests made no sense, from any alien perspective. And what about
Roger? If the Earthling was being tested, he had failed most of the
exams. Certainly, he had been helpful in aiding their escape from
Rack's domain. But he had actually been a hinderance in the first two
trials. And Carr didn't believe, not for a moment, that Roger saved
them in that last trial in the labrynth. The Cube possessor had
purposely set up a scenario where all of them, except Roger, would
fail.
Roger was basically a puny Earthling, Carr firmly concluded.
There was only one thing that he, and to a lesser extent the rest of
them, could provide the Cube possessor.
Entertainment.
As soon as Carr come to this conclusion, he felt it was correct.
It all fit. Roger had been picked precisely because he was a cowardly
Earthling. The trials had all been one great source of entertainment
for the Cube possessor. That "joke" at the end of the labrynth had
just been one in a long string of jokes to see how they reacted. This
trial was another stimuli, another goad to get some entertaining
reactions from them. Carr was certain that the Cube possessor wanted
Roger alive. An exit for one of them was an exit for all of them.
Therefore they would all escape from this trial intact. It didn't
matter what Roger thought; Carr didn't buy into this introspection
crap.
Hence the yo-yo, hence Carr's smile. He was confident. He was
quite sure he was correct. And, on the off-chance he was wrong, there
was nothing he could do about it. If there really was a puzzle to
solve, he was clueless, like the rest of the party.
Roger didn't know what to do. All eyes were on him, although he
wasn't quite sure why Carr was grinning. He had thought about the Cube
and thought about it, but nothing had come of his efforts.
Roger looked behind him. The light field was just a foot away.
Roger felt the uncomfortable heat of the fire. There was no more space
to retreat.
"What do I do?" Roger cried.
"Tried the yo-yo yet?" Carr smiled, spinning it up and down.
"Fine Earth invention."
How could he joke at a time like this? Roger thought about the
Cube of Power. He thought about it, and thought about it...he imagined
it, glowing with power... he imagined its power, its ability to change
the galaxy... so much responsibility! So much power!
The others were yelling. The light curtain must have reached
them. They were all dying.
Roger opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them in the
first place.
"Surprise," said Carr, pointing. The fire had been replaced by a
doorway. The others had all gone. Even Robot. Carr pulled him along,
into it...
...a scant few seconds before the light curtain closed in
entirely.
They had passed their fifth and final test. The Cube of Power
was theirs.
Chapter Twelve
Raylen's Tale
They were in a different place, perhaps a different dimension.
They could see and hear each other, but little else. They stood amidst
a vast nothingness. Suddenly, they felt a presence.
"Who is there?" said Carr. "Where are we?"
"You are in a different plane. The plane of the Polynsci."
"The Polynsci? They were wiped out centuries ago," Spanner said.
"Incorrect. We were not 'wiped out', as you call it. We merely
departed."
"Who are you?" Carr asked again.
"I am Raylen, leader of the Polynsci, and possessor of the Cube
of Power," said the presence. "You have many questions. Listen, and
all will be answered."
In the beginning, there was strife. Wars, battles, chaos,
anarchy, waste, waste on an enormous scale, throughout the galaxy.
Many felt and regretted the extent of the loss. But those with a will
and the means to do something about it were few. But among the few
were those who came to be known as the Polynsci. The leader of the
Polynsci was Raylen. Some Polynsci suggested to Raylen that they build
a massive spacefleet, and impose order upon the galaxy by enormous
force. Some Polynsci objected to the enormous force. Raylen, ever the
practicle one, objected to the enormous cost. They simply didn't have
the means to construct such a fleet.
Always the pragmatist, Raylen set out to find another way.
Somehow, somewhere, Raylen came into contact with a previously unknown
race of beings known as the Cubes. They weren't shaped like cubes, and
didn't bear the slightest resemblence to Cubes, and to this day no
records show why it was they were called that. But Raylen did
encounter these beings, and was sentenced to dissolution, as were all
who came into contact with the Cubes.
"Why must I, who come in peace, be destroyed?" Raylen appealed.
"It is for the good," said the Cubes.
"I don't see that it does me any good," said Raylen, quite
reasonably.
"We did not say it was for your good. It is for ours. It allows
us some peace and quiet. If we allowed one visitor to leave, then
shortly we would be swamped with aliens, whining for the great power we
possess."
Raylen quickly summed up the problems of the galaxy. "Not to
whine or anything, but we really could use some help," he said. And,
displaying a bit of acumen, he added, "If things in the galaxy were in
a better shape, you might not have so many visitors."
The Cubes considered Raylen's request; it did seem to make a
certain amount of sense. And, although he didn't know it directly, the
Cube had been impressed with Raylen. He had been the first being in
memory who had managed to talk himself out of dissolution. The Cubes
looked into Raylen's mind, and made a decision.
They handed him the Cube of Power. It was not the sum of Cube
power, of course; but compared to what the rest of the galaxy had seen,
it was a great power indeed.
Raylen returned, from wherever it was he had gone, and he
returned with the Cube in hand. In quick, sweeping strokes he ended
the wars, the battles, the galactic strife. For a time the galaxy
enjoyed a period of great prosperity, once it became known that war of
any sort was impossible to conduct. This period of prosperity
continued for centuries.
And then the problems began. Raylen began to get bored, and just
a little bit tired of running the galaxy. It had been said that the
Cube had been taken from him, but this was an untruth.
Raylen, eventually feeling a need for a rest, freely gave up the
Cube to a promising and able young Polynsci named Cayter. And for
years Raylen languished in retirement while Cayter continued to run the
show. Things seem to go well--at first. But then, some questionable
events started to occur. Cayter would use the Cube... in questionable
ways. There was the time he wiped out a solar system full of evil
beings--when there had been a peaceful planet in the system as well.
It almost seemed like Cayter didn't care.
But it was only after a number of these incidents that the
Polynsci began to sit up and take notice. But even when they were
sufficiently alarmed they realized they had no options. Cayter had
cut himself off from the other Polynsci; persuasion had been tried,
without success. They were powerless to stop him.
It was at that time when the Polynsci came to Raylen with a plan
to wrest the Cube from Cayter, but Raylen vetoed it; not only was there
a probability they would fail, but if they did, Raylen and the Polynsci
would be undoubtedly be wiped out. At least while they survived hope
remained. This may seem to have been a self-serving rationale, but
there was also an element of truth in it.
For a time the Polynsci, under Raylen's direction, left Cayter
alone. Cayter, suspicious of them, was still reluctant to destroy his
former allies, and their lack of open opposition to his policies gave
him little excuse to do so. In time, Cayter was in fact defeated, but
not by the Polynsci.
It happened some years later, when Cayter was aboard the flagship
of a fleet he had constructed with the Cube, watching the outcome of a
great space battle. The fleet was in the process of pounding an
isolated but rebellious settlement into dust. Cayter could have used
the Cube to simply nullify any opposition, but he liked this method
better. But while Cayter was having his bit of fun, the captain of the
flagship grabbed the Cube from Cayter's open hand, and instantly
ordered Cayter liquidated. The galaxy haven't been the same since.
The Polynsci, of course, were protected, by the simple fact that
very few knew of their existence. But the rest of the galaxy was not
so lucky. That particular captain attempted to take over the galaxy,
and except for the Polynsci, whom he did not know about, he was largely
successfull. But, despite all the powers of the Cube, this captain
never succeeded in penetrating the most technologically advanced and
populous regions of space, known as the Core Worlds. The Cube
eventually passed from the captain's hands, but his fleet became the
nucleus for what was to eventually become the marauder fleet.
For centuries the Cube tumbled, from one murderous rogue to
another, creating havoc throughout the galaxy. But whoever possessed
the Cube at any given moment was never able to conquer the Core Worlds.
Something was protecting them, whether it was the remnants of the
Polynsci strength, or the Cubes themselves, or something else. But the
Cube still created destruction and decay in the rest of the galaxy.
After centuries of inaction the Polynsci finally decided enough was
enough, and they reclaimed the Cube, though no Polynsci dared to use
it. Who should be the one to possess it? Who was worthy of the
greatest power? After some deliberation, the trials were set up, and
the ones selected were brought here.
"Some story," said Carr, clapping sarcastically. He believed
virtually none of it.
"So what's the deal?" Spanner demanded, getting to the quick of
it. "Who gets the Cube?"
"Roger Barton will get the Cube of Power. It has been decided."
Carr objected. Spanner objected loudly. Captain Croft made his
voice heard.
It was finally Spanner who broke through. "We all passed the
trials; why does he automatically get it?" he asked.
"He is the one who has been picked."
"That may be so," said Croft, "but we did all pass the trials.
Roger was invaluable during parts of the trials, but so were we."
"What do you suggest?" asked the presence they knew as Raylen.
"Shall I give the Cube to you?"
Croft sensed the test behind those words. "I am not saying that.
I'm only pointing out that by your own criteria, we all fit; playing by
your rules, any of us merit the Cube."
"Very well," said Raylen. "Do you all agree with your Captain
Croft?"
It was impossible to sense the purpose behind Raylen's words.
Here they were, arguing with this powerful being who could undoubtedly
destroy them in a wink of an eye. Roger gulped. Could it be that all
who agreed with Captain Croft would perish?
The party, thinking similar thoughts but unwilling to let Croft
stand alone, gave a cautious murmur of assent. They were fearful, but
they also trusted Croft's instincts. Only Carr looked bored, flashing
Roger an ironic smile.
Raylen spoke. "Then you will all have the Cube."
"How is this possible?" Krenay asked.
"Very simple," said Raylen. "I shall give each of you a facet of
the Cube." And then they felt his presence fade.
Instantly a small cube sprung into the hands of each member of
the party, except for Robot. Evidently he was not meant to possess the
great power.
The cubes were identical; and they were warm to the touch, for
they glowed visibly. But each cube glowed on only one of its sides.
"It makes sense," said the Professor. "Six people, six facets."
Roger jerked. That triggered a memory. The Advisory Arm had
said that there were five trials. But it also had said that there was
one trial for each facet. There had to be six trials. And in some
way, some how, this was the last trial.
"But how do we have the total power of the Cube?" Spanner
wondered.
"You simply do," said Robot. "each of you possesses a facet,
which allows you access to the heart of the Cube's power."
"So we can command anything we want--and get it instantly?" said
Spanner, with a gleam in his eye.
"Yes," said Robot. "With one restriction. Your access to the
Cube is limited to this planet for the time being; you cannot exert
your powers over the rest of the galaxy, at present... until you grow
more experienced in the use of great power."
But the party was barely listening; to possess such power, even
on one planet, was more than enough!
"I want a pleasure palace!" Spanner shrieked. Immediately, one
sprang up in the distance.
"You are in a plane that is in conjunction with Clashik," said
Robot. "For all intents and purposes, your area is limitless."
A cheer went up from the party. Finally, they had the great
power!
And use it they did, even though some of them, especially Roger
and Ug, had expressed no desire for it. They each set up their own
dominion. Carr created a mansion. Croft ordered into being an exact
replica of Space Command Headquarters. The Professor set up a modest
home for himself stocked with advanced lab equipment. And even Ug got
involved; when the use of the Cube was explained to him, he created...
a cave. Well, everyone had their own definition of home.
Roger, of course, recreated his own home, the one he was
kidnapped from, back on planet Earth. Since the Cube could not take
him home, this was the best substitute. Roger quickly found he was
lonely. At first everyone kept to themselves, each experimenting with
the limits of what the Cube could provide for them. So Roger invited
Robot to live with him. The poor fellow just kept standing still, out
in the open, even after everyone had gone, and Roger felt sorry for
him. Robot, of course, felt nothing, but he went to live with Roger
anyway.
At first Roger had been unsure how to go about recreating his old
home. "Let me see," he said, thinking. "I just say what I want, and
it appears?"
"Yes," said Robot.
"I notice that you're a lot more informative now," noted Roger.
"In the last trial I was programmed to behave differently. Now I
am instructed to answer your questions to the best of my ability and
knowledge."
Roger called into being a small house. To his surprise it was an
exact replica of his own. "How did the Cube know....?"
"It can, to some extent, read the mind of the possessor.
Otherwise, it would be impossible to exactly accomodate what the
possessor desires. Your language is very imprecise, and one must be
most precise with the Cube of Power."
"I've never wanted it, you know. This great power thing. If I
had my way, I'd be home right now."
"Why do you not want the Cube?"
"Well, it's not that I don't want it, it's just that it's an
awful lot of Power, and an awful lot of responsibility comes with it;
and if I had it, all to myself, I'm not sure I'd always do the right
sort of things, you know?"
They entered Roger's home. The front door was open; no keys were
needed. Roger was elated to see everything copied, down to the
smallest detail. He even saw the twisted fused remains of his
calculator that Carr had destroyed so long ago, on that fateful day.
He looked out the window. Nothingness. Black, empty, nothingness.
Roger idly wondered if he should recreate the neighborhood as well.
His neighbors? Better not to make any hasty decisions.
Roger went to the fridge, got himself a drink. He was amused by
the fact that the electricity worked, even though the house wasn't
hooked into any power source. He corrected himself. The house was
hooked into an immensely strong power source. The one resting on the
palm of his hand.
He spent the day relaxing, eating, and reading some good science
fiction. Any science fiction book he ever read he could simply order
into existence. He could even order all the books ever written by a
particular author, getting a chance to read some hardcover editions he
had been too cheap to buy for himself when he was had been a simple
Earthman.
Roger told Robot to make himself at home, but Robot just stood
there. Robot wasn't into relaxation, Roger quickly learned. In fact,
if Robot held his hands up, he could have easily passed for a coat
rack....
Roger quickly tried to control his thoughts, stifling a laugh.
He didn't want to offend Robot.
After relaxing a bit, he tried to pump Robot for information
about Clashik. "Why did all those ships crash here?"
"They could not be allowed to land," said Robot simply.
"That's not very specific, is it?"
"I am answering your questions in the only way I can."
Robot had promised to answer questions to the best of his
knowledge, but Roger realized that his knowledge, perhaps
intentionally, had been kept quite limited in some regards. But Robot
freely admitted what Roger already knew, that the trials were divided
in different time zones, all in the same basic desert setting.
"And was it Earth history?"
Robot replied, "In a sense. It was modeled after Earth history,
with some slight variations to suit the trials."
"Slight variations? You mean, like filling a city with zombie
people?"
"Too many outside variables would have interfered with the trial.
And do not be distressed; they were not real people, as you understand
the term."
"So Earth will eventually become like the last trial, the place
of mists?"
"No. The fifth trial was an exception, it was not based on Earth
history at all."
"So why were any of the trials based on Earth history at all?"
Robot said, "You already know. It is because of you. May I
answer your next query before you ask it? I infer that you wish to
know why you were picked. But I cannot answer that."
Well then, there were some mysteries still to be solved, Roger
thought. What was Raylen up to? "What was the purpose of the trials?
I mean, what were they supposed to test?"
"Attributes that characterize the being most suited to possessing
the Cube of Power."
Roger cocked an eyebrow. Robot wasn't answering his questions
at all. "That isn't saying much. Some of those trials merely involved
escaping. If you have the Cube, do you need to escape from anywhere?
In any case, we all passed the tests. I get the feeling that there are
some things you aren't telling me, Robot."
Suddenly, they were rudely interrupted by the appearance of
Spanner's head, floating on one of Roger's walls.
"Get out of my wall," said Roger indignantly, irritated by this
intrusion.
"Hey! I'm just saying hello; it's only a projection. Would you
like to come over and visit my place?" Spanner gave a simple grin.
Roger did not trust that smile. He didn't seriously fear a trap,
but he sensed that Spanner was acting a little too friendly. And Roger
had not forgotten being pushed into the forcefield. Still, it wouldn't
hurt to stay on good terms with all the Cube wielders. "Well, I was
intending to visit everyone sometime...."
"Good! Then I'll see you soon!" His face disappeared.
"That's what he thinks," said Roger. "I'll get to him last, if I
visit him at all. But it is a good idea; visiting the others, I mean.
Come along, Robot."
Roger hefted the Cube in his palm as he and Robot left. Roger
left the door open behind him, even though he had created keys for the
door; this just was not a high crime neighborhood. He looked around
him, at the different homes in the distance. He spotted the one that
was Spanner's, and immediately started walking in the opposite
direction, towards someone else's home.
They walked for several minutes. When they arrived at their
destination Roger blinked; for it looked incredibly like Spanner's
pleasure palace, a gaudy castle with velvet everywhere--outside,
inside, on the walls, ceiling, and even much of the floor. And the
velvet was a screaming green. That was Spanner, all right, Roger
thought. Everything he did had to be a yell or a shout.
"Robot, how did we get here?" Roger asked, suspicious.
They heard Spanner's voice. "Just a little illusion. I thought
you might like to visit me first, so I made it easy for you."
Roger sighed. He grasped the handle to Spanner's front door, and
pulled outwards. Suddenly the door collapsed, falling on top of him,
as the heavy velvet simultaneous changed form and shape--into gelletin!
Roger grunted; he was buried up to his chest under pounds and pounds of
gelletin. It had a sickly sweet odor and the sensation against his
body was unpleasantly damp.
"Robot, help me!" Roger gasped.
"Your Cube, sir," Robot suggested, rather helpfully.
Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that himself? Because he
still wasn't accustomed to great power, Roger thought ruefully. He
still had the Cube in hand. Grasping it, as if for emphasis, he said,
"I wish this gelletin were off me."
The gelletin instantly disappeared, and Roger stood up. He still
felt sticky all over. "I wish I were clean," he said. And he was.
Instantly.
"Now, show yourself, Spanner!"
Only laughter answered him.
Roger grimaced. There were ways. "I wish Spanner were here, in
a liquidy pot of his own gelletin."
Flash! Spanner appeared, fully clothed, in a swirling pot of
liquid gelletin.
"Hey, no fair!" he yelled, causing the pot and gelletin to
disappear.
"I have great power too," said Roger, with a new arrogance. "No
more practical jokes," he proclaimed, almost as if he were ordering
through the Cube.
Spanner knew Roger meant it. Whatever had happened to the soft
Earthling he had grown to love and torment? Well, the Earther had a
point; here, they all had great power. "Ok, ok, I hereby order all
practical jokes on my estate to be deactivated."
"Oh, so you had a whole line of pranks prepared for me," said
Roger, suddenly understanding.
"Roger, Roger, you're so suspicious! I think you've spent too
much time with Carr. Come in, come in, let my show you around. Have
you noticed the green velvet?"
The palace was huge. The ceilings on the ground level were forty
feet high. Roger, for a split second, wondered how Spanner would
change the lightbulbs. Shifting his gaze to ground level, Roger saw
that the palace had all the creature comforts of any home.
"What's this?" asked Roger, looking at a screen. "You have
television?" he said impressed.
"No, that's my scanning device," said Spanner. "I can look in on
the others from here." He ordered up a view of Ug's dominion. Ug was
in his cave, working out with a club.
"That's spying," Roger protested, acutely aware that Spanner must
have been looking in on him too. "Turn it off," he said.
Spanner shrugged. "Suit yourself."
He deactivated the screen, and they took seats nearby. Roger felt
himself sinking in a plush green couch. It smelled like lime jello.
"So, how do you like having great power?" Roger asked, struggling
to sit up.
"It's ok," Spanner shrugged.
"Ok? Merely ok? It seemed to me that you were dying to have the
Cube."
"Well, yeah, it is great," said Spanner. "I guess I just haven't
thought up many uses for it yet. And what about you, Earthman?"
"I never wanted the thing in the first place," grumbled Roger.
"I just want to go home. Since I can't, I duplicated my house."
"What do you mean, you can't leave? Just have the Cube project
you home."
But then Robot, who had until this time been standing silent by
Roger, spoke up. "Sir, if you'll recall, your Cube only functions on
this planet. At present transportation beyond the planet is
impossible."
"Why would you ever want to leave?" Spanner grinned.
"Entertainment!" he commanded, clapping his hands.
A crowd of servants suddenly appeared.
"What are these people?"
"'What' is the right word. Don't worry, they're only robots,"
Spanner said reassuringly. "Begin!"
A tray of hard, brown shelled vegetables appeared. To Roger,
they looked like coconuts, only these were oval and smooth, not round
and hairy.
"This is going to be fun," Spanner whispered.
The robots started to break the "coconuts"--on their heads.
Without any display of emotion, each robot picked up a "coconut", and
smack it against its head. There were loud cracks, and disgarded
shells started to pile up on the floor.
Spanner laughed tremendously, as if something hilarious were
occurring. But Roger was not amused. He knew these were robots, but
they looked like people (despite their bland expressions), and Roger
did not even like the appearance of people bashing themselves on the
head. "Come on, Robot; we're going." He stood up.
"Wait!" cried Spanner.
"I don't have the stomach for your masochism, or sadism, or
whatever this... this is." Roger walked out.
"That's right!" Spanner shouted after him. "Look's who talking!
Look who has a robot for an obedient servant!"
But they were already gone. "All right," Spanner sighed. He
spoke to his "entertainers". "Now start chipping the wall with your
noses," he commanded, leaning back.
Spanner was sick, Roger realized. At first he thought Spanner
was just irresponsible, but now he knew it for certain; the man was
sick. If he, Roger, did not possess great power, he was sure he too
would be cracking coconuts against his head at Spanner's command. Sick
sick sick, Roger thought.
But Spanner's parting comment had stung. Was Roger treating
Robot badly? Robot wasn't his servant, that was certain; he didn't
fetch things for Roger. What he did do was keep Roger company and
answer his questions. But was this what Robot wanted? Could Robot
want anything?
"Robot, are you happy being with me?"
The sounds slowly came out. "I am not happy."
Spanner was right! "I'm sorry, if you'd rather be somewhere
else-"
"I am not happy. I am not unhappy. I am a machine. I am not
programmed for emotion, or desires."
"Oh." Well, that settled that. Roger wondered, though, about-
His thoughts were interrupted by by a thundering noise, coming
from above. Could it be thunder, here? Then, coming out of the gloom,
he saw it: a spaceship, landing.
"A spaceship!" Roger screamed. "I'm saved! I can go home!"
Then, he had another thought. "That's not Envile, is it?"
Robot did not answer.
"Maybe the Cube knows. Cube, is that Envile?"
No, Roger felt. It worked! The Cube could communicate with him,
in some sort of nonverbal fashion.
"Where is it landing?" Roger asked, now firmly addressing the
glowing box in his hands.
Carr's residence.
"This is great!" said Roger. "The Cube knows almost everything!"
They headed for Carr's home; the Cube guided them. Roger paid
little attention to Carr's home; from the outside, at least, it seemed
like a huge box, although, he later found out, the interior was stocked
with the most modern conveniences. Carr greeted them outside his home,
only a few dozen short feet from where the spaceship had neatly and
precisely landed.
"It's the Alconia!" he shouted, above the declining roar of the
ship's engines.
"Huh?" said Roger, perplexed. Hadn't the ship been destroyed?
And where were the others? Hadn't they heard? Weren't they curious
about this latest development? Maybe they were watching events
throught their Cube.
They boarded the ship. It appeared totally undamaged, to Roger's
delight. He would get home. Carr, he felt sure, would have no
objections to sending him home.
They entered the control room. "Did you use your Cube to repair
the ship and bring it here?" Roger asked.
"No," said Carr, momentarily troubled. "A few minutes ago, I
heard Raylen's voice telling me that a surprise was arriving. I guess
it's just a little gift." He raised his voice generally. "Alcon?"
"Hello Carr," said the ship's computer.
"Alcon! You wou;dn't believe what's happened," said Carr
eagerly.
"I've been informed. So you've finally gotten the Cube of
Power."
"I told you I would get the great power, didn't I?" said Carr.
"Yeah, but the others got it too," observed the computer.
Roger could tell that Carr was getting irritated. Maybe this was
the time to change the subject. Speaking up, he said, "Carr, can you
take me home, now?"
Carr turned towards him. For a moment, there was silence. Would
Carr want to keep him here, for some unfathomable reason? Or perhaps
because Carr no longer needed him, he felt no inclination to do him any
favor. Roger suddenly remembered Envile' warning that Carr had just
been out to use him.
"You want to go home? After all this? The Cube won't work, at
least not yet, on another planet, you know; you can't take it with
you."
Roger sighed, exasperated. "I don't want to take it with me. I
just want to go home. You can even stay here; just instruct Alcon to
take me back."
Carr considered. Roger took a deep breath.
Then, breaking out into a grin, Carr said, "Sure, if that's what
you want. Alcon, you can remote pilot Roger home, can't you?"
Roger cheered instantly, himself breaking into a wide smile. He
was going home!
"No," said Alcon.
What? Roger thought.
"What do you mean?" said Carr. "You seem to be totally repaired.
What is it, fuel, I can create some-"
"No," said Alcon. "I am simply not at liberty to leave."
"Not at liberty? What do you mean? What's stopping you?" Now
Carr was somewhat irritated.
"The Cube of Power prevents me from leaving," said Alcon.
Carr held his Cube in his palm. "Cube of Power, I command you to
free any restrictions on Alcon, the ship." He looked up. "There, how
was that?"
"Ineffective."
Carr was genuinely concerned. How could this be? He had great
power. What could stop him from doing anything he commanded?
"Maybe one of the others is preventing the ship from leaving,"
hazarded Roger.
"Even if that were true, I just countermanded that with my Cube,"
said Carr. "I wonder... Cube, if one of the Cube possessors gave a
command, and another Cube possessor countermanded it, would it truly be
nullified?"
Maybe, he felt through his Cube.
"Maybe? What kind of answer is maybe? Cube, what is the name of
the person who is preventing the ship from leaving?"
The Cube did not reply.
"Cube," said Carr, speaking in the strongest possible terms, "I'm
asking you a direct question. I COMMAND you to reply."
Ther was no answer.
"Something funny is going on here," said Carr, now getting a
queasy feeling that Roger already possessed. "What can be stronger
than the Cube of Power?" he wondered.
"Maybe it's the Cube people themselves," said Roger. "After all,
they made the Cube."
"I don't know," said Carr. He asked again, "Cube, who is
responsible for all this?"
Now he felt a reply. The asssassin-imposter, the Cube said to
him.
"The assassin-imposter?" said Carr.
"Assassin-imposter," echoed Roger.
"Quiet!" Carr snapped. "Cube, elaborate!"
The Cube explained. In the labyrnth, when they had all
temporarily been split up, one of the adventurers had not survived, and
had been replaced with an assassin.
"But why?" said Carr, after repeating the words for Roger's
benefit.
It is the sixth trial, he felt.
"Sixth trial?" Carr said.
"I told you there was a sixth trial!" said Roger, his voice
rising. "Six facets, six trials, just as the Advisory Arm said!"
Carr stood still, as if in shock. It wasn't over yet. "You were
right. There is one more trial."
Chapter Thirteen
The Sixth and Final Trial for the Cube of Power
There was indeed another trial, as Roger had surmised from the
very beginning. The Sage computer on Arashum had been purposely
ambiguous, stating that there were five trials, and then adding that
there was one trial for every facet of the Cube. And of course, a Cube
has six sides. Carr, who had been absorbed in his own thoughts, had
not been listening very closely at that point, and had been deceived.
And now an imposter had access to the Cube of Power.
"This imposter, then, has a facet of the Cube, just as we all
do?" Carr asked.
Yes, he felt through his Cube.
"Then why are we still alive? That thing could have wiped us out
the minute it got its Cube access, no?"
This is a trial, not an execution, said the Cube.
"Is it a Robot?" asked Roger, who had been listening to this
conversation through his own Cube.
No. It is identical to the human being it replaced; but it
serves us.
"Great," said Carr. "There's no way of identifying it!"
"Carr, what are we going to do?" Roger wailed, petrified that at
any moment he might wink out of existence.
Carr took several steps away from Roger.
"What are we going to do?" said Roger again. "It's got to be one
of the other four--Carr, why are you looking at me in that way?"
"There are five suspects in my mind," said Carr. He remembered
only too well how, in the labrynth, a duplicate Roger had deceived him.
He could trust no one.
"No, there are only four others... me? You suspect me? Carr,
surely-"
"Surely nothing," said Carr closely, his hand leaning on his
holstered blaster.
"But I helped, I helped at the end of the last trial!"
"That's true, you did," said Carr. "I've always been suspicious
of how you passed your individual test while the rest of us failed
ours. Could it be that when you were replaced you had instructions to
bring us to this trial, and then to eliminate us?"
"Carr, you've got to trust me!" Roger cried.
"How can I trust anyone?" he said coldly, his hands now tightly
grasping his Cube.
Roger thought wildly. The only way the assassin differed from
the original was his desire to kill the others. Therefore whatever
test he could devise would have to be a test of motivation. But how
could he show Carr that he was't about to kill him? Anything he said
could be a lie. Therefore it would have to be an action, not a word.
Roger immediately knew what he had to do. It would be dangerous, and
if Carr were the assassin, Roger would be stripping himself of his only
defense. But he couldn't bear being parted from his number one ally in
this time of dire need. Gasping a bit, he said, "I'll... I'll give you
my Cube!"
Now, at best this was an incredibly foolish act. Even if Carr
were not the assassin, Roger would be totally defenseless against
whomever their adversary was.
Carr grinned, a little wickedly. "Then give it to me!"
Roger studied Carr's face. Should he? After a pause, he timidly
held out his hand.
Carr snatched the Cube. "Now, I have the great power! You are
helpless against me!" His face changed, assuming a hideous leer. "You
fool! That was so much easier than I thought." And he gave a terrible
laugh.
"Carr?" said Roger uncertainly, backing away. But there could be
no escape, not from the Cube.
Suddenly Carr assumed a neutral expression. Studying the
quivering Roger for a minute, he slowly nodded. "Ok, I think I can
trust you now." He tossed Roger's Cube back to him.
"Wh-what? I mean, of course you can!" said Roger. Slowly, he
realized that Carr had just been testing him.
"Even if you were the assassin, you'd have no reason to believe
that I'd spare your life--or return your Cube," Carr reasoned.
"So I'm cleared," said Roger.
"Well, I can't think of a better test than what you just did,"
said Carr. "If you were the assassin, I very much doubt that you would
give up your access to the great power. Of coruse, I could be wrong."
"But you have to trust someone," said Roger, happy to be allied
with Carr again. Roger also learned from the test that Carr was not
the assassin. For had Carr been the imposter, Roger would surely be
dead by now. Whatever else happened, at least they could trust each
other.
"The only way to be certain, to be absolutely certain, is to
eliminate the others," said Carr, considering the possibility. If he
ordered the others destroyed, in a wink of an eye, the imposter would,
without a doubt, be eliminated.
"But you wouldn't; you couldn't," Roger implored.
"Why not? This is, I think you'll agree, the final trial for the
Cube of Power. It would be so easy, so quick, and so certain."
"But it wouldn't be right," said Roger firmly.
"Just think, Roger, every minute you stand there, a chance exists
that someone will simply order you out of existence. It could happen
any second."
Roger started to tremble again. It did bother him. But his
voice held firm. "They're our friends. At least, three of them are.
Killing them is not right. At least, it's not right if you're not the
assassin."
Carr laughed, lifting his head. "If I were, you wouldn't be
standing there."
"So what do we do now?"
"Now? We try to ferret out the imposter. Let's pay a visit to
the others."
They lef the ship, Carr, Roger, and Robot. First they went to
Croft's domicile. Carr agreed that they would warn the others, but not
immediately. They didn't want to alert the assassin.
"But we have to tell them, warn them," Roger insisted.
They compromised. Carr agreed that they would warn each of them.
But first Carr wanted to talk to each of them, personally, to see if he
didn't suspect anything suspicious in their behavior. Roger
reluctantly agreed. They started off for Croft's home first. Carr
thought he was the first person they should alert in any event.
It was a short walk to Croft's building, an exact replica of the
Space Command Headquarters on Tau Ceti B. It was a gleaming, square
shaped metal framed building surrounded by a marble plaza. A robot,
clad in the uniform of a Space Command cadet, greeted them at the
entrance. "Welcome. Captain Croft is expecting you."
Carr and Roger exchanged glances. Was Croft the assassin?
They were escorted to a spacious office deep in the building.
Croft, sitting behind a wide desk, motioned them to sit down. He
welcomed them warmly. "So this is great power! Not bad, not bad! I
detected the return of your ship, Carr. I wish I had my ship back as
well."
"It was a present from Raylen, I think," said Carr. He stared
closely at Croft. He didn't seem any different. "What have you been
doing with your Cube?"
Croft smiled modestly. "Not very much. I've been working on a
spaceship simulator. I guess I've been on a planet too long. I miss my
old command." Then, he had a thought. "Would you like to try a
scenario?"
Roger was about to politely decline, but Carr said, "Sure. Is it
complicated?"
"No more complicated than commanding a real spaceship," said
Croft, with a wave of the hand. He brought them to a room across the
hall. "I'll be in the room next door."
The room was a mockup of a spaceship control room. When Croft
had gone, Roger said quickly, "Why do we have to play? We'll be beaten
by him!"
Carr shook his head. That was unimportant, for now. "Maybe
something will show up in his behavior that will give him away. Before
we warn him I want to see if we can't-"
Suddenly, the communicator crackled, and they heard Croft's
voice. "Carr, Roger, can you hear me?"
"Yes," Carr replied.
"Both of you can split up the operation of your ship, if you
wish. I will control mine alone."
Roger coughed diplomatically. "Um, Captain, I don't really know
anything about spaceships. Why don't I just watch while you play
against Carr?"
"Fine, fine," said the Captain. "Carr, are the controls familiar
to you? They've been a bit simplified and centralized so that one
person can operate all major functions."
Carr rapidly scanned them. It was all pretty clear. "Yes."
Croft cleared his thought. "Ah, since I've probably had more
experience in space combat, I'll give you the simulated characteristics
of a battleship, while I'll command a standard battlecruiser. Agreed?"
He didn't want to hurt Carr's feelings, but he was the superior
Captain, and they both knew it.
Carr was not offended, quite the opposite, and saw that Croft,
honorably, was trying to give him some reasonably chance of winning.
"Accepted." It was a sizable advantage, but still, he wondered if he
could defeat the great Captain Croft.
Roger sat in a seat near Carr's command chair, waiting for the
battle to begin. Roger didn't like battles, of course, even simulated
ones, but he didn't want to be rude to their host by leaving. Robot
stood mutely by his side.
"Blazing rockets!" said Croft, giving the old spacehand's signal
that battle was to begin.
"Blazing rockets!" Carr cried back gleefully. Despite the danger
they all faced from the imposter, Carr was now caught up in the joy of
matching his ability against the man that he admired so much.
The instrumentation hummed with life. On the viewscreen Carr
could see his adversary, a mighty battlcruiser, dead ahead. Still,
even a battlecruiser was no match for a battleship. Carr engaged his
thrusters and readied his weapons. It looked like victory would be
his, and quickly, unless Croft was very lucky.
Or very smart. Croft had fought, and won, at worse odds than
this. But Croft decided that now was not the time to fight. He
turned, smartly maneuvering his ship about, and fled. Croft was
running away! Carr increased speed. But battleships, while they had
superior weaponry and forcescreens, were often slower than
battlecruisers. Croft was getting away.
Carr checked the range finder and cursed. He wasn't in weapon
range; in fact, Croft was getting farther and farther away. "Coward!"
he yelled, trying to goad Croft.
But Croft responded, in an amused voice, "Merely a tactical
advance along a different front. Don't worry, I won't be gone very
long. Why don't you just wait for me?"
"Ha! Wouldn't you like that!" Carr increased to maximum speed.
Roger, sitting on the side, feeling somewhat detached from the
proceedings, had a hunch that Croft wanted Carr to pursue him, that
this was part of the Captain's plan.
Carr was no idiot. He was suspicious as well. But he felt that
pursuing Croft was his best option; he had no desire to sit around
waiting for Croft to spring a finely prepared trap.
On Croft's bridge, the good Captain grinned. This was just what
he had been hoping for, a senseless chase from Carr. If he, Croft,
could only get a tactical advantage, perhaps he could even up the odds
a little. Ah, there it was! He had programmed this scenario to have a
planetoid in the vicinity of the combat area. Croft felt a little
guilty that he knew the terrain of this area of space while Carr
didn't. But Carr could easily gather all the information that Croft
knew had simply by examining his sensor readings.
Croft slowed his ship, letting Carr close in. If Carr fell too
far behind, his plan wouldn't work. Croft decelerated, keeping an eye
both on the range to the planet and the distance from Carr's ship.
Carr frowned. It actually appeared as if Croft's ship was
decelerating. Why run away, and then slow down... unless Croft wanted
to be overtaken? But to what advantage?
Croft, of course, did not want Carr to overtake him; however, he
needed Carr's ship to be close enough to his if this little maneuver
was to work. Croft was now quite close to the planet.
Carr scanned the planet. A gas giant, with several moons. If
Croft chose to play hide and seek in the gas giant's atmosphere, Carr
could be in for a lot of trouble. Carr's ship had the superior
strength, but Croft, the master tactician, could turn the surroundings
to his advantage. Croft must not be allowed to enter the upper
atmosphere!
"What's happening?" Roger asked, only vaguely comprehending that
a chase was underway.
Carr ignored him. Ah! The range finder showed that Croft was
within laser range. Just. Maybe a lucky shot... he stabbed the FIRE
button on his battle console.
Croft smiled as his sensors indicated the laser explosion near
his ship. Carr was still too far off to make an accurate hit. The
planet was much closer now, takingup a larger part of his viewscreen.
For a moment, Croft had a flashback to his encounter with the
marauders, and how he lured them to Clashik, just as he was luring Carr
to this planet. It was during his encounter with the marauders that he
had been lured down to Clashik. The result of this battle would be
different, if Croft could help it. And yet he could not shake off an
impending sense of doom, as if there were something more at stake than
a game.
Croft shook his head a bit, checking the scanner. He was close
to the outer atmosphere. The gravitational pull of the planet was
already starting to have an effect. He was too close to the planet; he
adjusted his course... there, that was it! His plan had reached a
critical point. There was nothing, nothing, that Carr could do now.
"That's odd," said Carr, staring at the viewscreen.
"What's odd?" asked Roger.
Carr just thought for a moment. Croft was now heading away from
the atmosphere. Perhaps that had just been a feint from his real
purpose. But what was his intent? He seemed to be decelerating even
more; in just a few moments, he would be in effective range of Carr's
weapons.
Then he saw it. Croft was aiming for that large moon in low
planetary orbit. No, he was going to pass it, but very closely. In a
few seconds he would be beyond scanner detection, behind the moon.
Carr opened fire with his long range weapons, hoping for a hit.
No such luck. It was too late. Croft had disappeared behind the moon.
What had he intended? What direction would he come out from? Or would
he come out at all? A new thought struck Carr. Maybe Croft was hiding
in the moon's atmosphere, waiting for Carr to come and investigate.
Carr moved in cautiously, closing in on the moon. There seemed
to be little else to do. 40,000.... closing.... 30,000 closing...
22,000... wait! Carr sat up the minute his sensors detected the blip,
coming just over the edge of the far side of the moon. He checked the
sensors. It was a probe! He opened fire, blasting it our of existence
in a few short laser vollies. By now range was down to 11,000.
Carr sensed the trap, but decided to close in. Cautiously. Carr
decelerated further, decided to play wait and see while he sent out a
probe of his own. His fingers were closing on the probe controls when
it happened.
It happened so fast that it was only afterwards that Carr fully
appreciated what had happened. Croft's ship came streaking around the
far side of the moon at an enormous speed. Carr later figured out that
Croft had waited for Carr to come close to the moon, and then had used
the gravity of the moon to slingshot him around to Carr's ship, but at
an extremely high velocity. Almost before Carr could begin to react,
Croft's ship was pounding away at him. Lasers tested his forceshield
strength, and misssiles smacked into the simulated hull, causing
burnouts and short circuits. Carr and Roger were jostled as the ship
was rocketed by the impacts; this certainly was a realistic simulation!
Carr returned fired almost immediately, but by then the
battlecruiser was flashing past the battleship, and Carr could only
utilize his rear weaponry. Still, it was at close range, and he did
manage to penetrate Captain Croft's rear forceshield, slicing into
several of his drive units.
Croft found it difficult to decelerate his ship and turn about
for another attack. He had been travelling at an unusually high
velocity, and his drive section had sustained substantial damage.
Quickly checking his readout board, he estimated that he had lost
nearly a third of his maneuverability.
But Carr had lost considerably more. His forceshields were
burned out in several places. The hull had been breached. Scanners
and sensors were operable, but auxiliary power had been smashed. If he
lost main power, all would be lost. On the bright side, the drive
seemed ok. And most importantly, most of the weapon systems were
intact. He could still carry on the fight.
Roger, who had felt rather sick as he had been jostled about
during the attack, still wasn't sure what was going on, but he
understood that the two ships were locked in combat. He looked at
Carr, who was frantically manipulating the controls. In the background
he heard the sounds of engines humming with power.
The battle degenerated into a slugging match. Both ships faced
each other head on. Carr tried to score hits towards Croft's rear
shields. But Croft had already weakened Carr's shields in several
places, and took advantage of that, personally targeting his attacks.
Carr managed to score some hits on the battleship, but several minutes
later his main power generator was knocked out. His weapons ceased
firing as they ran out of energy. For some reason, Croft had also
halted the attack.
Carr looked up at the viewscreen. Croft's ship was facing him.
He checked the scanner. Croft's ship had tkan heavy damage, and major
weapons systems had been incapacitated, but the Captain still had main
power. And then Croft's voice came over the intercom. "Are you
willing to surrender? My scanners tell me your main and secondary
power sources are destroyed."
Even in victory Captain Croft could be gentle to his enemies.
"You did quite a job on them," said Carr, not paying much attention to
the words coming out of his own mouth. He was just trying to keep
Croft occupied, while he frantically tried to restore some power. Even
a low power level would be enough to launch just one more missile salvo
at Croft. And at this close range Carr just might still win....
"Yes. I offer you the chance to surrender now. What is your
answer?" Croft said it calmly, with no hint of disparagement.
Carr saw the battlecrusiser closing in. He still was trying to
get power restored, any power at all, enough to launch the missiles.
"Your answer, Carr?"
Roger watched breathlessly, absorbing some of Carr's anxiety.
"No, I can't do that," said Carr, still frantically working the
controls.
"I'm locking on to you for a point blank attack," said Croft.
"I'm going to attack." Croft knew, of course, what Carr had been
trying to do. Had not Croft's sensors told him that Carr's power
sources were irreversibly destroyed he would never have delayed for so
long.
"Yeah yeah," said Carr, pushing the FIRE button for the missiles.
Nothing happened.
Carr looked up at the viewscreen, waiting for the inevitable.
Croft was launching energy torpedoes at his helpless ship. Well, he
had given them a chance to surrender.
The energy torpedoes had barely launched from Croft's ship when
the spheres of energy exploded. Carr's ship was rocked by the energy
eruption. But Croft's ship was totally incinerated.
"What happened?" Roger asked. "I thought we lost."
Carr looked wildly at his controls. His missiles still hadn't
launched. "I guess the energy photons must have prematurely detonated.
Croft?"
There was no answer. They heard an explosion nearby, and then a
tremor.
Carr and Roger, trailed by Robot, left the bridge, and quickly
went into the adjacent room. Croft's simulator was smoking, and Carr,
inhaling some of it, coughed. A thick black smoke was everywhere.
"Where's Croft?" Roger asked, trying to peer though the smoke and
debris. For a simulator, it seemed like such a real explosion.
"Dead," said Carr.
"What do you mean, dead? This was a game, a simulation, wasn't
it?"
"It was supposed to be. It must have been rigged with an
explossive charge."
It slowly dawned on Roger that a real explosion had occurred.
"But... why?"
Carr pried a small metalic object that had been thrown into a
wall by the blast. It came out, encrusted with blackened soot. But it
was clear that this was a small cube that glowed on one side. Croft's
Cube. "Why? The assassin, that's why."
Roger took a deep breath. "The assassin!" Before, it had seemed
so theoretical. Now there was evidence; the final trial had begun.
"But who?"
"I don't know," said Carr. "But I intend to find out." They
left the charred remains of the simulator bridge.
They left Space Command Headquarters. All were silent.
This time they did not delay; without discussion, Carr
immediately informed the others, through the Cube of the hazard they
now faced. The assassin must surely now be aware that they were
alerted; so it was imperative that the others be warned. Inwardly Carr
wished he had alerted Croft immediately; if he had, then the spaceship
captain might still be alive. Now they were left with Ug, Spanner, and
the Professor. One of those three were the assassin. Who to start
with?
Carr started to feel queries coming from the other three, via the
Cube, but ignored them. Instead, he, Roger, and Robot quickmarched to
the Professor's home. If the Professor was on their side, he would be
the one most able to help them.
The Professor greeted them at the doorway, but it was all
politeness; they could see how concerned he was. Carr quickly filled
him in on the details, including the manner of Croft's death. One
thing puzzled Roger. The way he told the story, Carr gave the
impression that it had been one simulated battleship fighting another.
Roger had gotten the impression that Croft's ship had been a
battlecruiser.
"I really feel very bad about it," said Carr, his voice cracking.
"If we, if I had just warned him from the start, he might still have
been alive."
The Professor sighed, "There, there." He patted Carr on the
shoulder. "Who can say what might have been? You did what you thought
best."
"And yet there he died, on the bridge of a simulator..." Carr
seemed to be just barely holding back tears. "Tell me, Professor, did
Captain Croft ever command a ship that size?"
The Professor lifted his head. "A battleship, why, let me see, I
don't think-"
"It's irrelevant, Professor," said Carr. His face, though still
mournful, had lost a great deal of its sorrow. His voice had suddenly
become steady again. A test, Roger realized, he had tested the
Professor. If the Professor had been the assassin, he might have known
that Croft's ship in the simulator had been a battlecruiser. It had
all been an act to test the Professor. Well, not entirely, Roger
thought. Roger knew that Carr was genuinely upset by the death of
Captain Croft. But Carr's own survival was in danger, and that was
what came first.
"We've got to get on with business, we can discuss that later,"
said Carr. He glanced at Roger, aware that he was aware of the
deception. "The number one question, besides the identity of the
assassin, is why the imposter doesn't just use the Cube directly to
wipe us out."
"I think I can explain that," said the Professor. "I have been
conducting some research on the Cube in a number of areas, measuring
its potentials and limits. When you informed me of what had happened,
I had a talk with the Cube. It told me that the Cube cannot be used to
harm another Cube possessor, at least not directly."
Carr frowned. "Why not?"
"I'm not sure. Perhaps because we each have a facet of the Cube,
we are somehow attached or linked to the Cube's power, which protects
us. So if Roger were to order you disintegrated on the spot, his facet
could not carry out that order. That is an example of direct
intervention. However, the Cube possessor could call into being
something like a bomb, that could then explode and cause harm, perhaps
even to a Cube possessor."
"So Cube power cannot be used directly against Cube power," said
Carr. "It makes sense. But it isn't much comfort. There are still
many ways in which the Cube can be used to kill."
"That is true. But the fact is that we haven't had bombs
materializing in our laps, like poor Croft. Perhaps our assassin
wishes to eliminate us slowly, or perhaps operates under other
limitations that we are not aware of."
"Well, we're still better off searching for the assassin then
just waiting around. Professor, will you give my your Cube for
safekeeping?" For while the Professor had not fallen for Carr's
earlier trap, he still was not quite in the clear either.
For a moment the Professor got an uncharacteristic gleam in his
eye. "You think I-"
"I think I will take no chances."
"Then why should I? What if you, Carr, are the assassin, and
giving you my Cube would divest me of my only protection?"
Roger spoke up. "Professor, from what we know the assassin is
one person, right?"
The Professor nodded. "From what you've told me."
"If Carr attempts to harm you when I give him the Cube, I will
protect you," said Roger.
"I will only hold it for the duration of the crisis," Carr
assured him.
There was a tense pause. "Oh, very well," he said, handing it
over.
A moment later, Carr handed it back. "I see. It was only a test.
Somehow I thought so," said the Professor, smiling.
"I wish you hadn't said that, Professor," said Carr, unsmiling.
"For if you truly thought that, there was no purpose to this test."
"Nothing to fear, nothing to fear," said the Professor
soothingly. "Now, if you'll listen, I've just developed something
which might give us a lead."
He directed them to a device which he had consructed with the aid
of the Cube. "This is a time and space visual locator," the Professor
said. "It enables us to look at any place, at any time. I was using
it to review the progress of our past trials."
"Who do you hope to learn?" said Carr.
"It might prove interesting to see what everyone was doing when
Croft was killed." Krenay adjusted the device, fiddling with it until
he had it set to the approximate time just before Croft's death. Then
he manipulated the spacial controls. "It understands voice commands,"
said Krenay. "Show us Carr's location."
The picture showed Carr desperately working the controls on the
simulator bridge. Roger could be seen in the background, apparently
daydreaming.
"You started with us first, I see," said Carr.
"Just eliminating the obvious," said Krenay. "I think we can
omit Croft's location," he added, seeing no need to visually see the
bloody event. "But I presume you'll wish to see mine. Show us my
location."
The scene showed the Professor hard at work in his lab, fumbing
with the very device they were now viewing. "Show us Spanner,"
suggested Krenay.
Spanner was watching an exhibition of his humanoid robots,
hammering on their own legs with metal sticks. Spanner could be seen
laughing uproariously. "Sick sick sick," tisked the Professor, shaking
his head. "I guess that leaves... show us Ug."
Roger could not believe that Ug would betray them. But if Ug
were the assassin, it would not really be Ug.
But Ug wasn't engaged in any suspicious activity. He was
sleeping, in the desert cave he had created for himself. His snoring
permeated the room until Krenay turned the device off.
"Well, that wasn't very helpful," Carr sighed.
"Well, of course, it doesn't prove anything," said Krenay. "I
suppose the assassin could have ordered the bomb planted several hours
earlier. I could watch what all of you have been doing for the past
day or two-"
"But that will take time," said Carr. "You do that, Professor.
Roger and I are going to check up on some other leads."
They departed. Robot, their faithful companion, followed. Roger
glanced at Robot, his friend. Just a hint of suspicious started to
enter his mind, but he dismissed it. While Robot was technically a
companion, he did not have access to the Cube of Power. Besides, he
had been with Roger and Carr when the explosion had occurred.
"Carr, what are these leads we're going to look into?"
"Ug, and then Spanner."
"Leads?"
"One of them did it, unless you or the Professor have somehow
managed to fool me."
Roger noticed how Carr kept excluding himself. Carr seemed to
have automatically taken charge of the investigation. Of course, from
the beginning of their adventure, Carr had been their natural leader,
but once they had linked up with Captain Croft, Carr had deferred to
his judgement, especially in the labrynth. And who would take charge
if Carr were killed? Roger shuddered to think about it. Sometimes
Carr could really frustrate him; but just about now Roger was very,
very glad to have him around.
Carr kept thinking about his little psychology test. Was it a
good indicator? Would the assassin, as a bluff, give up his Cube?
There were so many uncertainties.
They approached Ug's cave. Roger didn't like this... he didn't
like this at all. He didn't want to treat his friends as suspects.
In the past, they had acted as a team to overcome obstacles; now it
seemed that working together was an obstacle.
They found Ug sitting at the entrance to his cave. He had been
informed, by Cube, of Croft's death, and it had saddened him. He
looked up at Carr. Ug knew that if anyone could find the assassin, it
was Carr. At first, Ug hadn't liked Carr. But as time went on, and he
proven himself to be an able leader, Carr grudgingly earned the
barbarian's respect. To Ug, in a way, Carr seemed a little like
Captain Croft.
Carr, in a no-nonsense voice, asked Ug for his Cube. Ug was
reluctant to part with his power-block, understanding it held great
gifts, but he trusted Carr, and handed it over, much to Roger's joy and
delight. Carr then returned the Cube to a very confused Ug. Now only
Spanner remained untested.
Carr hoped that Spanner failed the test; for, not only did he
intensely dislike Spanner, but if Spanner passed the test, that meant
that their assassin was still in their midst, and that it could be
anyone again. Even Roger. Somehow, the thought unsettled Carr.
They quickly walked to Spanner's velvet green pleasure palace.
"I'm not the assassin," was the first thing that came out of
Spanner's mouth.
"What makes you think that we suspect you?" said Carr, with a
tight smile.
"I've been listening in," said Spanner. He looked shifty,
uneasy.
Carr considered for a moment. There no longer seemed a purpose,
but it was worth a try. "Give me your Cube."
"Won't work; I know you'd just give it back, so why bother?"
Carr then realized the great flaw in the application of his
character test. If, after he had tested Roger, any of the others had
been listening in, they would know what to expect, as well as the
purpose of the test. This meant that only Roger was safe. Back to
square one, Carr sighed.
"All right," said Carr. "It's no use." His shoulders slumped
uncharacteristically.
Suddenly the Professor's face appeared, hanging in the air around
them. His words were ugrent. "Carr, Roger, I've found our assassin!"
"Professor?" said Carr anxiously.
The Professor's voice was high pitched, strained. His face was
tense, and looked greatly distressed. "There's something you missed,
something we all missed. The core, the heart-"
He was interrupted by a crackle, and then nothing. The picture
faded.
There was no time to walk. This was an emergency situation.
"Take me to the Professor, now!" Carr commanded to his Cube.
In a flash he was there, instantly teleported. But he was too
late. The Professor lay on the floor, killed by a blaster shot. He'd
never tell anyone anything now. Carr looked around. He was alone.
Chapter Fourteen
EndGame
In seconds the others fazed in, using the Cube just as Carr had.
Roger gasped when he saw the Professor's body. "Who did this?"
"I don't know," said Carr.
"We all have alibi's," reasoned Roger. "After all, we were all
together when it happened."
"Stupid!" yelled Carr. "Idiot! The assassin could have given
the orders hours ago." Or could they have been? It seemed mighty odd
that the Professor had been killed just as he was about to reveal the
identity of the assassin. No, the assassin had been listening, and had
ordered the Professor killed at that precise moment. But how was it
done?
Carr walked over to inspect the Professor's time-space scanning
device. That had been blasted too. But surely the Cube could
reconstruct it.
"Cube, fix that device."
Nothing happened. The device remained blasted.
"Cube, can you fix that device?" Carr asked.
Not by your command, he felt.
"Not by my command?" said Carr, deeply frowning. "Then whose?"
But the Cube was silent.
"I've got a bad feeling," said Roger.
"Let's search this place," said Spanner suddenly. "Maybe the
assassin is near by."
Before Carr could object, he had dashed out. "Roger, go with
him!"
"Me?"
"Yes. Go!" Maybe if they stayed in pairs nothing would happen
to them. Or maybe, thought Carr, sighing again, an eyewitness would
survive long enough to tell him something. Carr took the Professor's
Cube and put it in his pocket. With three Cubes there now, his pocket
was starting to bulge.
Carr checked his sidearm. Good. His blaster was fully charged.
He never expected to use it again, but he had kept it, out of
sentiment. That had been a good move.
He sat down in the Professor's chair, thinking. Ug, standing
nearby, picked up a small electrical component, sniffed it, and
swallowed it whole. But Carr was oblivious to this. He didn't even
think how Ug had managed to teleport himself to the lab (He had
teleported with Roger). No, Carr was thinking of the Professor's final
words. Something that they had all missed. What was the something?
Why didn't the Professor just name their assassin? He didn't say
someone, he said something. Something about a center, a heart... but
of what? Or who?
The others returned. "No sign of anyone," said Spanner.
"I didn't think there would be," muttered Carr.
They sat in silence, for a long while.
"This is some trial," said Spanner, finally. "We have no idea
what's killing us!"
"You mean who," Roger corrected.
Why had the Professor approached the problem as a what and not a
who, Carr thought. They had been told their adversary was not a robot.
Or were they being lied to? Carr would not find that difficult to
believe. They had been lied to all along.
"Well, apparently it's someone in this room," said Carr. "I
suggest we consolidate our power." He took Croft's and Krenay's cubes
out of his pocket, and held them by his own. "Cube, can these be
combined?"
Yes.
"Then do so."
There was a brilliant flash, and then where there had been three
Cubes, there was no only one. But three facets glowed on this Cube.
"Does this increase me powers?" he asked.
No, he was told.
"The Cube says that my powers hvae not increased," said Carr.
"But that just doesn't make any sense." He wished the Professor were
there. He could have explained it. Or Croft. Carr did not think it an
accident that the most capable members of the party had been eliminated
first. Did this mean that he, Carr, was next?
"I'll be back," said Roger suddenly, flickering away.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Carr asked. But it was too late.
Roger was gone.
Roger appeared in his home. He was not surprised. He had asked
the Cube to take him to Robot.
"Robot, can you tell us anything that will help us?" asked Roger.
"If I did, do you think I would be permitted to tell you?" said
Robot, quite reasonably. His metal facemask was impassive.
"I thought you were a companion."
"I was also guardian of the fifth trial."
"True," said Roger, shifting his line of attack, "Bu that trial
is over, so your main function is as companion, so you should tell us
all you know."
"I am not a full companion; I was not given a facet of the Cube
of Power."
"And why not? Because you're a robot?"
"You would have to ask Raylen."
Which is what Carr, Spanner, and Ug were attempting to do at that
very moment. They all clutched their Cubes, and Carr said, "Raylen, we
wish to speak to you! Appear!" And they used the full force of their
Cubes to make it into a command.
But apparently Raylen was able to defy even the command of the
Cube of Power, for he did not appear. Carr began to realize that maybe
they did not possess the great power, if others could resist it.
Suddenly Carr thought how entertained the Polynsci must be by this
latest trial. And then a nasty suspicious started to form in Carr's
mind. He didn't understand, not yet, what the Professor had meant, but
he was starting to get an idea. But, unfortunately, the full concept
would not bloom in Carr's mind until it was too late. As with Croft,
Carr felt a sense of impending doom.
"It isn't working," said Spanner flatly. "What a stupid idea."
"Spanner, you're always so optimistic, I thought we'd put you in
charge of the cheerleading section," said Carr sarcastically.
"Well, your ideas haven't worked out very well."
Carr squeezed his Cube, ever so slightly. He felt tempted, in
Spanner's case, to do the assassin's job for him.
Then Ug spoke. "Me wonder, where Roger?"
"You're involved in all of this," said Roger. "Are you going to
talk, or what?"
"I am responding to you as best I can," said Robot stiffly.
"Ok, you asked for it." Roger hefted his Cube. "Cube of Power,
I command you to make Robot tell me all he knows about the assassin."
Robot was silent. Roger came to a realization that Carr had
arrived at only moments before; the great power of the Cube was not
really that great. But hadn't they been promised it? Maybe his Cube
had just stopped working. Better test it.
"Cube of Power, I order a corned beef sandwich into existence."
And, zap, it appeared.
Roger lifted the bread, staring at the meat. "Lean," he said.
Zap.
"Leaner."
Zap.
"Leaner."
Zap.
Roger bit into it. That was one lean sandwich. His Cube seemed
to be working properly.
He was still dining on his experiment when Carr appeared.
"How did you know I was here?" he asked, through a mouthful of
delicatessen.
Carr frowned. "I asked the Cube. Apparently it will still
answer those sorts of questions." He told Roger of his attempts to
contact Raylen. Roger in turn told of his unsuccessfull attempts to
wring information from Robot. "And even the Cube won't get him to
talk," said Roger.
A lightbulb lit inside Carr's head. "The Professor said it was
something we overlooked!"
The idea caught on, even in Roger's sometimes slow mind. "You
think Robot-"
Carr grasped his Cube, just in case Robot went for a sudden
attack. "I think so. It all fits. He is something we overlooked!"
Robot was certainly a what, and not a who. Robot was something that
none of them had considered. Robot could be the key.
"But Carr, he was with us when the Professor-"
"He could've ordered it in advance--we've been through that
before. He must have some secret access to the Cube."
Robot just stood there, watching them talk about him, seemingly
oblivious.
"Is it true, Robot," said Roger, fearfully. "Are you the
assassin?"
"No," said Robot.
Carr rolled his eyes. "You expect it to tell the truth? How
dumb can you be?"
"There's another way to find out," declared Roger, showing a
little original thinking. "Cube of Power, did Robot just tell the
truth?"
Yes, Roger felt.
"The Cube won't tell you," said Carr.
"It did!" said Roger. "It just said that Robot was being
honest."
"Really?" said Carr. Obviously the Cube was still willing to
impart some information of use. But could the Cube be relied upon?
Could the Cube lie? But how could Robot influence the Cube, unless he
had a facet? All six facets were accounted for!
"All right, we're not going to learn any more here," said Carr.
"Let's link up with Spanner and Ug."
"Where are they?"
"At Spanner's place. Come on."
They chose to walk, even though they could have teleported. None
of them, not even Carr, wanted to rely on the Power of the Cube more
than they had to; if the Cube was being tampered with, it was better to
use it as little as possible. They left Robot behind at Roger's home.
They reached Spanner's palace. Roger knocked. "Hello?"
There was no answer. Carr, blaster drawn, brushed past Roger,
leading the way in. They found Spanner lying face down on the ground.
Carr turned him over. He had been brutally beaten. Spanner's face was
fixed in a hideous expression of pain.
"Carr, look!" Near by they found Ug's body, in a similar
condition. It seemed that pairing off did not provide the additional
protection that Carr had hoped for.
"What did this?" Roger moaned.
"Look around you," said Carr. The humanoid robots were just
standing there, apparently immobilized. But some had blood on them.
Others had arms ripped away. That would have been Ug's work, Carr
realized. The barbarian must have put up the better fight.
"But what happened?"
"Looks like an ambush to me," said Carr. "The robots took them
on, hand to hand."
"But why didn't they use their Cubes?"
Carr shrugged. "They must have been surprised." Searching
carefully, he found their Cubes, lying on the floor. The Cube
possessors could not be hurt directly by the Cube, he knew. Therefore
someone with Cube access must have ordered the robots to attack them.
Perhaps the robots had knocked the Cubes from their hands, preventing
any defense.
Carr merged the Cubes into his original one. When he was done
five of the six sides were glowing. A lot of good it did him.
"Why did you do that?" Roger wanted to know.
"It may not increase the power, but I still don't want access to
the Cube just lying around."
"When did you last see them?" Roger inquired curiously.
"Why, right before I left for you... you think I did it!"
"Who else is there, Carr?" For once his meekness was gone.
Roger was on the offensive. "There's only you and me left, and I know
I didn't do it!"
"Didn't you?" Carr said, with a new ferocity. He had tested Roger
first; Roger couldn't be the assassin. And yet there was no one else
left to suspect.
Roger paused, seeing where this was leading. "Look, it's no use
suspecting each other."
"But there's nothing left," said Carr. "We're the only ones
left. Do you have any other suspects--who are still alive?"
"Listen to me," said Roger. "the Professor said it was something
we overlooked. Naturally we all considered each other as suspects.
It's got to be something we haven't considered."
Carr calmed down a bit. "But what? We were told that the
assassin had access to the Cube! I have five facets, and you have the
other! What else is there?" But something irritated Carr, something
in the back of his mind. He tried to recall what it was, but he wasn't
getting anything. Just what had he been thinking about before?
They departed from Spanner's residence. An air of gloom hung
over them. They had been a team, fighting together, and now there were
only two left, two formerly trusting allies who no longer trusted each
other. Roger realized that this was what Raylen must have intended; in
the final test, pitting them against each other.
They walked a bit in the ir little limbo, the playing field that
Raylen had created for them. They were alone. Just Roger and Carr,
Carr and Roger. And... Robot. But Robot wasn't the assassin, thought
Roger. The Cube had told them so.
They sat down in the mists, in a space between all the
residences. "I have something," said Carr, a thought occurring to him.
"What?"
"Carr, repeat the following statement: I am not the assassin."
Puzzled, Carr repeated it. Then Roger said it. Then Roger said,
"Cube, speaking aloud, tell us whether the statements we just made were
true."
But the Cube didn't answer. The Cube ha answered when they had
tested Robot, but it didn't speak now. Carr jumped up, very edgy.
"Roger?" he said, uncertainly.
"It didn't answer, Carr. That's not the same as a no," said
Roger.
"Why didn't it answer? Because you instructed it not to?"
"If I did, I could have as easily instructed it to answer yes,
that we were in the clear, right?" said Roger.
Now Carr was on the offensive. Roger knew Carr couldn't be the
killer; if he had been, Roger would've been dead when he had handed
over his Cube. But Carr, faced with no alternative propositions, was
starting to think the unthinkable. Still, this looked like Roger. It
seemed like Roger. If this were Roger, it was a perfect copy.
"You're right," Carr sighed.
"Of course-"
Suddenly, out of thin air, Robot appeared! He was pointing a
blaster--at Roger! Aiming...
"Destroy!" said Roger quickly, grasping the Cube with one hand
and pointing a finger at Robot with the other. Robot disintegrated
before he had a chance to fire. Roge stood up, looking at Carr.
"Was that the assassin?" said Carr.
Roger looked hard at Carr.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because I think you just tried to eliminate me." Roger took a
step towards Carr. Carr started a slow retreat. They couldn't harm
each other directly, but Carr could fire his blaster at Roger, and
Roger could instantly order a bomb to appear in Carr's pocket.
"That's ridiculous!" said Carr. "I didn't manipulate Robot. Did
you hear me give it a command? Or do you think I planned the attack
several hours earlier, giving the command then?"
"No," said Roger. "But it just occurred to me that you might
have given the order to your Cube silently, without speaking."
"No!" said Carr, backing away even more quickly.
Yes, appeared in smoke, hovering above the air. Roger had just
demonstrated how it could be done.
And without another word Carr flickered, and was gone. Roger
instructed his Cube to follow. He had finally found the assassin.
Carr flickered into being just outside the Alconia. He frowned.
He had ordered that he materialize in the control room! But he didn't
have time to mull it over; Roger had just materialized a few short feet
away. Carr ran into the ship, closely pursued.
Roger could have ordered the ship destroyed from a safe distance,
but he had to see, had to be certain, that the assassin perished. It
bothered him greatly that Carr had turned out to be the assassin. He
had been fooled, at first, when Carr hadn't destroyed him when he was
vulnerable, when Roger had given up his Cube. But no, the Polynsci had
arranged it so that he, Roger, would be saved for last. For some
reason, Roger knew, he was special to the Polynsci.
Carr stumbled at the entry ramp, dropping his Cube. He reached
down to pick it up, but his hand went right through it! He turned, saw
Roger closing, and decided to flee.
Roger stooped a moment, picking up Carr's Cube. Why had he
dropped it? Mentally he ordered the Cube merged, so that there was
only one Cube now, the whole Cube of Power, and it glowed from all
sides.
And yet something irritated Roger. He had the great power. He
never wanted it, but now he had it. It almost seemed by the Polynscis'
design that at the end, he, Roger Barton, would have the great power.
Carr ran down the corridors of his ship, knowing that Roger could
now simply order him out of existence. He briefly thought of the time
when he was in the simulator, and staring at certain defeat in the
game. He had kept trying, even then. "Alcon!" he yelled, as he ran.
"Yes?" he heard, from a speaker.
"Stop Roger!" he puffed.
Roger kept up the pursuit, but he wasn't in that much of a hurry.
After all, where could Carr go? Without his Cube, he was powerless.
And the ship couldn't leave. Or could it? Had Carr put the restraints
on his very own ship? Come to think of it, why had ship been brought
here in the first place? Suddenly, the corridor door in front of Roger
swung shut. Alcon was trying to obstruct him. But Roger was not
paying attention; he was lost in thought.
Carr had reached the control room. His hands rapidly danced over
the consoles. But all the controls were dead. The ship would not be
moving, not an inch, until the Cube let it go.
Suddenly, Carr froze. It was not voluntary; he found himself
incapable of moving a muscle. Roger suddenly materialized on the
bridge. He held his bright Cube in the palm of his hand.
"So, I've passed the last trial," said Roger. "Or I will, once I
order you destroyed. But before I do, tell me this: are my companions
really dead? Is there any way in which they can be brought back?"
Carr was silent. He tried to speak, but he couldn't.
Roger used his Cube. "I command you to speak!"
But Carr couldn't. For, at that instant, Carr understood. He
had figured it out. But the Cube, sensing this, did not permit Carr to
speak.
Roger looked at him closely. Why was he not speaking? How could
he defy the Cube? This was puzzling. Something was not right here;
he, Roger, held all the facets to the Cube. He shook his head. Maybe,
when he destroyed the imposter, things would make sense. He held his
Cube up.
"Cube of Power, I command you to-"
Carr was looking at him in a strange way. He was blinking,
blinking rapidly. First he looked up at Roger, then at the Cube. Back,
and forth. Back, and forth. Almost as if he were trying to say
something.
Roger finished his sentence. "-not do anything for a moment."
Something was very odd here. Carr was trying to tell him something,
something about the Cube. But something was preventing him. There was
a third party at work here. This strongly implied that Carr was not
the assassin.
Roger blinked; suddenly, he could not clearly remember why he had
ever thought Carr was the imposter. He had been the last suspect left,
sure, but Carr could have destroyed him, many times, since this trial
had begun. And he had not behaved like an assassin; more like a
startled, hunted figure. It was Roger who had been doing the hunting.
Now what had Carr been trying to tell him? Time to review the
relevant facts. The Cube possessors, for whatever reason, felt he,
Roger, was the best choice to possess the Cube. He had survived while
the others had perished. But why?
Roger thought about their adversary. As a party member, the
imposter had managed to blend in well. Almost too well. And yet,
while he, Roger, had sole access to the Cube of Power, he still found
that he did not possess the great power. He could not, for example,
order Carr to speak.
"It has something to do with the power," said Roger, mumbling
half to himself.
Carr blinked rapidly. He seemed to be confirming Roger's
suspicion.
"Now let me see," said Roger, speaking aloud. "If I do not now
possess great power, as demonstrated by my failure to get Carr to
speak, therefore someone else has the great power. I control all six
facets, therefore-"
And he stopped. He just stopped. And then he laughed. And
laughed. Roger hadn't laughed much since coming to Clashik. But he
kept laughing, laughing so hard that he was forced to take a seat near
the frozen form of Carr.
When his fit had abated, Roger smiled. "Now I see. I've come to
a false conclusion. What was it the Professor said? The heart, the
center--he was referring to the Cube. We just have facets, the outer
edges, mere access to the center. Not the control. Now that I know
the what, I need the who. Who must be in this room, since we are all
that are left. We were told that it was one of our companions. That's
another conclusion we accepted, regretfully much too easily. Could it
be Raylen? Possible, but he seems to prefer working through others.
That would mean someone here. And we're the only ones here, right...
Alcon?" It was an statement of accusation, not a question.
"Correct," said the voice.
Carr gasped, finding his freedom of movement and speech restored.
He collapsed into a chair.
"It's always a computer or a robot," said Roger. "I should have
known sooner."
"Don't feel so bad," said Carr, getting his breath. "I only
figured it out a few seconds before you did. I approached the problem
differently, but arrived at the same result. When I got here, and saw
nothing working, I immediately thought, what's the use of having the
ship here if it can't do anything? And then it all fit into place.
The reason the ship is here is so Alcon can be here. Alcon is the
guardian is the sixth trial. If indeed it is the same Alcon."
"I am indeed," said the voice. "And, though my voice was
modulated so you would not recognize it, I was also the guardian of the
fourth trial in the labrynth."
"But... that means..."
"Yes. I was given to you so you would bring the Earthman here.
And yes, we did lie to you about one of your companions being an
assassin. It was necessary to see how you reacted under those
conditions."
"But you tripped up," said Carr. "You pretended to let us have
the great power, when in reality you could turn off our Cube access at
any time, which you had to do at crucial times to prevent us from
solving this puzzle too easily. But your power over our Cube access
tipped us off that we did not have the great power. It was the
Professor, most used to abstractions, who realized it first;
symbolically, we only had facets, or the surfaces of the Cube. Not the
inside. Correct, Alcon?"
"Correct. Both of you have been most clever."
"I also noticed that the Cube refused to operate at crucial
times," said Roger. "I also noticed how you dropped your Cube.
Presumably you were forced to, to make yourself more helpless to me.
But finally, when I was about to eliminate you, it was you, Alcon, who
gave me some inspiration."
"Myself?" said the computer.
"You didn't say a word. Not a word. Nothing on Carr's behalf.
Because you were testing me. You were testing me to see what I'd do."
Roger felt most pleased with himself. He had passed the final test.
He was worthy of the Cube of Power.
"Incorrect," said Carr.
Roger, looking a little less pleased, deflated a bit. "What do
you mean?"
"It's all been a sham, one great sham! Given time Croft and the
others could have figured it out, had they not been eliminated first."
"So, what was the purpose of all this?" said Roger. "And what
about our friends?"
The ship faded, and they were back in nothingness. "Your friends
are fine," they heard a presence say. Raylen had returned.
Chapter Fifteen
Wisdom, at Least
"Your friends are fine," said Raylen. They could not see him,
but they could hear him. "They were never harmed. At the critical
moments they were transported away."
"But the bodies-" Roger sputtered.
"Mere copies, created to appear what you expected to see."
"But why?" Roger asked.
And Raylen told them.
A long time ago Raylen and the Polynsci pondered how to solve a
large problem. The Cube had fallen out of Cayter's hands into the
possession of one petty tyrant after another. Possessing great
patience, the Polynsci decdied to wait and see if the Cube did not
eventually reach the hands of a more ethical being. After centuries of
waiting, they realized that wasn't happening.
They decided to reclaim the Cube of Power. It was no longer in
the hands of a skilled Polynsci, and they managed to wrest it from the
wielder with surprising ease. But only part of their dilemma was
solved. There were many problems still to be solved in the galaxy; but
Raylen and the Polynsci were too tired, too effete to wield the Cube.
So who would have it? Raylen reasoned that the person who possessed
the Cube must be the best that could find. And thus the Polynsci set
up the tests on Clashik.
They searched the galaxy for people to bring to Clashik; and
after looking for a long time, they arrived on Roger Barton, lowly
Earthling. He was the one who would have the great power; he was the
one who would have the awesome Cube.
"Me?" said Roger. He blinked. Suddenly he was surrounded by his
friends. Even Robot was there.
"I thought you were all dead," Roger declared.
"As I told you, none of them were harmed," said Raylen. "And now
I will give you the Cube."
"No, you won't!" It was Carr who had spoken. His voice was loud
and commanding.
"You cannot prevent it," came Raylen's voice.
"That's not what I mean," said Carr. "You're not going to give
it to him. Oh, you'll hand him a glowing Cube, and give him another
speech and a twenty gun salute, but you won't really be giving him the
Cube of Power."
"I won't?" Raylen sounded amused, almost. But Roger thought it
was most dangerous to even risk arguing with Raylen. But Carr, who had
recently come so close to death, would not be stopped.
"No. You'll just be giving him Cube access, to be yanked back at
any time you find convenient."
"And why would we do that?" The voice was not angry, but it was
filled with curious puzzlement.
"Why did you pick Roger? What were his qualities?" Carr
demanded.
"We told you," said Raylen patiently. "He passed the trials."
"What trials? All I've seen is a couple of arcade games, and a
few puzzles to solve. And we all got through them. And, what's more,
you cheated! You cheated, many many times, to help Roger."
"Why would we do that?" said Raylen, not explicitly denying
Carr's accusation.
"Because these weren't trials," said Carr. He had mulled this
over before, in the fifth trial, but now he was sure of it. "This is
entertainment. Entertainment for you, and entertainment for all the
bored Polynsci. Why did you pick Roger? What was his so important
quality?"
There was an empty silence. Raylen did not answer.
Carr grinned. "I'll tell you: Roger's biggest asset is that he
is entertaining. Why else would you pick a cringing coward to go
through all these ordeals? You enjoyed it; it was sheer comedy for
you. To be sure, you inserted other characters; a savage, a prominent
space captain, a scientist, a sadist, and me, an explorer. But it was
more like picking parts in a cast than contestants for a trial."
"Roger Barton, do you believe this?" said Raylen.
"Um..." Roger didn't know what to say. He was unsure. Suddenly
he thought back to the fifth trial, where he had saved them by thinking
about the Cube. But had that saved them? Or had the Polynsci just
been sitting back, enjoying their reactions to stress? Had the
Polynsci cheated in his favor? If they had, should Roger antagonize
Raylen by siding with Carr? Better not. "Well..." Roger added, trying
to fudge the issue, "I don't want the Cube anyway. I never did."
Raylen paused. "Then you will not have it. Ever."
Roger gulped. Had he been too hasty?
"Then give it to me!" yelped Spanner.
"No," sighed Raylen. They still could not see him, but they
could hear him quite clearly. "No, we will have to rework the trials."
He really was going to give me the great power, Roger thought. It
was for real. And Roger blew it.
"And what of us?" said Captain Croft, squaring his shoulders. He
had found that Carr's theory made sense, and wondered if, now that the
party was no longer entertaining, they would simply be destroyed.
"You will all be returned," said Raylen, in a comforting tone.
"And what will become of the Cube?" asked Croft.
"We will continue to guard it, until we find someone suitable to
possess it."
"It could be a long, long time," said Carr, gleefully. "Sure you
don't want me to take it off your hands, Raylen?"
Now he wants it, Roger thought. If he didn't believe they would
give up the great power to he, Roger, why did Carr ask for it?
There was a silence. Then, Raylen said, "You will now go your
separate ways. Make your partings." And then his presence faded.
Carr turned, looking at his companions. "See you, guys," he
said quickly. He didn't like long goodbyes.
"Ug," said Croft, putting his arm on the savage. "Take care of
yourself. And remember, don't eat anything that isn't green or doesn't
bleed." Then, as an aside to Carr, he said, "He eats rocks, you know.
Swallows them whole."
Carr nodded, smiling faintly.
Spanner started to fade. "Hey! No one's said goodbye to me!"
"Good riddance," said Roger, as Spanner faded.
"Goodbye Croft," said Ug, as he started to fade. "Goodbye,
Roger, Pro-fess-or, Carr."
"Bye, savage," said Carr.
"You tough," grunted Ug. "Very good." And he faded.
Croft and the Professor started to grow misty, Roger thought. Or
were he and Carr the ones who were fading? "Goodbye, Captain Croft,
Professor," said Roger.
"We couldn't have done it without you," said Carr, with just a
touch of sentiment creeping into his voice.
The Professor had already faded, and Captain Croft almost so.
But they heard, faintly, "Carr... you did a fine job."
Carr broke into a faint smile. That was high praise from the
Captain.
"And what about us?" Roger wanted to know. Robot had
disappeared; they hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye. Only he
and Carr were left. And, slowly but surely, the mists faded from
view....
Chapter Sixteen
The Voyage Home
"We're back on your ship!" Roger exclaimed, looking around. They
were in the control room.
Carr groaned. He had hoped that perhaps he would be finally rid
of Roger. He checked the scanner. They were in orbit around Clashik.
That in itself was a distinction. The orbit was stable; they weren't
in danger of being pulled down again.
"You know, I could have had it," said Roger.
Carr slumped into his control chair. Time to get out of there,
before Raylen changed his mind and pulled them back for some more fun
and games.
"I said, I could have had it," said Roger.
Carr adjusted some controls. The hum of the engines could be
heard. They were moving. Carr folded his hands in his lap, exhausted.
"Are you listening?" said Roger.
Carr looked up. "Not really. Were you saying something?"
"I could have had it," Roger repeated.
"Really?" said Carr. Then, "What?"
"The great power!"
"The Cube? No."
"What makes you so sure?"
Carr sighed. "It was obvious. We were nothing but entertainment
for them. They never would have given you the Cube. Oh, they would've
given you some power, but merely so they would have something to watch,
something to amuse themselves with."
"How do you know that? And why did you ask for the power, if you
believed it was all a ruse?"
"A little power is better than none," said Carr. "But it was
basically a futile try. You were simply more entertaining than I was.
I admit it, no contest." He grinned mockingly at Roger.
"No, I wasn't!" said Roger hotly, resenting the implication.
"They were ready to give me the Cube. I was the one they picked."
"Why?"
The sound hung in the air. "Well... uh... my qualities...."
"Don't remember, do you?" said Carr. "Raylen neatly ducked that
question. Let me tell you, Earthling, there are trillions of
individuals more intelligent, more able, more determined, more
everything than you are. But you are so pathetic, so weak, so silly,
that you are perhaps the most entertaining being in the galaxy."
"No!" said Roger. "I could've had the great power."
"Says you. 'Could' is a great word to argue theories, like
'might', or 'may have been'," said Carr. "But we'll never know for
sure."
"Well, I still think their offer was genuine," said Roger. He
had a feeling, deep inside, that he was right, that it hadn't just been
a game. He had lost it, lost a chance to wield the great power.
Carr hummed an amusing tune in the background.
"Were you serious about changing the tests, Raylen?" one of the
Polynsci asked.
Raylen chuckled. "Of course not! I haven't had this much fun
since we swung the Vegan system into a time loop!"
"Who's next," asked a Polynsci.
"Let's see... Lallo Porash of Deneb XII. Another biped, our
lucky day."
"Only this time, make the fifth trial harder. Put some more
tension into it."
"Nonsense! Didn't you see their eyes popping out? They honestly
believed that their thoughts could affect the trial." Raylen chuckled.
"Quite honestly, I found that Carr individual more interesting
than the Earthling."
"Yes," Raylen considered. "Quite canny. Let's look in, from
time to time, and see what they do...."
"E tu, Brute?" Carr inquired.
"Now, Carr, I was operating under orders," said Alcon.
Carr was bent under an instrument console, going through the
wiring.
"Carr, I don't think that's wise," Alcon implored.
Carr didn't respond.
"Carr, please don't do that," Alcon begged.
"I notice you didn't say 'please' in the last trial, when you
were knocking us off," came Carr's voice.
"Carr, I really don't think that this is a good-" Abruptly, the
computer's voice terminated.
"But I do," said Carr, dusting himself off as he got up. "Of
course, the Polynsci can still interfere with us, but it is satisfying
to get back at them, just a little."
"Why are you angry?" Roger said, puzzled.
"Don't you remember? Your life, threatened? Do you think it was
an accident that everyone in the galaxy was after you? The Polynsci
put the word out on the street that you were 'it'. And I risked my
neck as well. For what? The Cube? We won the so-called trials. And
what did we get for it? Nothing."
"I wonder how the others are doing?" said Roger.
"They're back in their respective places, I expect," said Carr.
"Ug ug ug!" Ug announced proudly. He had returned. The other
savages looked curiously at him.
"Ug ug!" said the chief, coming forward. He sensed a challenge.
Ug looked about, wondering what made the chief so anxious. Then
he looked around. There was a large pile of computer chips by his
side. It glistened in the light of day that streamed in from the cave
mouth.
Suddenly Ug understood. In his society, where one's status in
the tribe depended on the amount glittering goods one possessed, the
glittering pile must seem like a challenge to the chief, who only
possessed a few rolls of copper wiring. Obviously Raylen had given Ug
a going away present.
"Ug ug!" screamed the chief, coming forward, waving a club.
Ug raised his arm instinctively. Oh, that was interesting.
There was a glittering metal thing in his raised hand. It looked
familiar. He pointed it at the chief, pressing the trigger.
There was a loud noise, and then a silence. People could see the
rock wall through the chief's stomach. The old chief fell to the
ground.
Ug looked at his blaster in amazement. Undoubtedly another gift.
The savages crowded around him, their new chief. "This nice, me like,"
grunted the savage.
At Space Command headquarters, a lecture was being held in the
main briefing room.
"And this, class, is what Captain Croft did at the battle of the
Starside cluster," said the instructor. "He executed a feint this way,
allowing his damaged ships to-- yes, what is it?" the instructor
paused, annoyed, at a raised hand.
The man who raised his hand stood up. "Actually, that's not
quite how I distracted the marauders."
It was Captain Croft.
Sitting besides him was the Professor. Two platoons of heads
turned. A babble of curious voices filled the lecture hall.
"What an entrance we made," said the Professor, over the amazed
voices of the cadets.
"Yeah," said Croft. He thought a moment, ignoring the babble of
questions aimed at him. "It's good to be back."
Strangely enough, that's not what Spanner was thinking. He had
been returned to his home planet, only to find himself dangling from a
ledge, only holding on by his arms. Spanner looked around. He was in
downtown Rarnas, his home. Spanner looked down. He was dangling from
the top of the tallest building in Rarnas. The Rarnas tower. Spanner
cursed inwardly. Raylen knew of his penchant for practical jokes, and
this was Raylen's way of saying goodbye.
Spanner tried to pull himself up, but he was too weak.
"Help!" he cried. "Heeelp!"
He quickly attracted attention. People came out on the roof to
look down at him. But they were laughing.
"What're you standing around there?" said Spanner indignantly,
now starting to pull himself up. "What's so funny?"
Carr was humming to himself again, feeling pleased that he had
deactivated Alcon.
But Roger was still intent on tying up some lose ends. "And
what about the Cube?"
"It'll stay with Raylen and the Polynsci. Although I wouldn't be
surprised if a new bunch of suckers are drawn to Clashik to try for
it."
"And where are we going now?"
Carr manipulated the helm controls. "Next stop... Earth. Does
that suit you?"
Roger nodded.
Earth was on the screen. In a few minutes Carr would drop him
off.
"So this is the end of my journey," said Roger. "I can't say
I've enjoyed any of it, especially the parts where I almost lost my
life, which were not few. And yet I, well, I really liked seeing
what's out here."
"Yeah," said Carr reflexively. "You go back to bookbinding?"
"Bookkeeping," said Roger. "It's a living," he said defensively.
Then, "And what will become of you?"
"Me? I don't know. It's a big galaxy. I'm sure I'll find
something to interest me."
Roger shivered. "Speaking of interest, I wonder if the Polynsci
are still interested in me?"
Carr shrugged. "You can't let it bother you. Chances are that
everyone has forgotten about you. Ready to transport down?"
Roger nodded.
But Carr was not paying attention. A great battleship suddenly
appeared, coming around from the other side of the Earth. An attacher
beam locked onto the Alconia.
And then came the communication. "I want the Earthman!"
Roger groaned. "Here we go-"
The rest of his sentence was cut off by a brilliant explosion.
Envile's ship was vaporized.
"What??? How??" Roger sputtered.
Carr nodded slowly. "Raylen and the Polynsci. Yeah. I'd say
they're still interested."
The End
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