Slaves of Sleep & the Masters of Sleep

by L. Ron Hubbard

  Meanwhile Jan had located the whereabouts of the manuscript. In a list of rare and lost works he had found this line:

  Abdullah Sid, manuscripts of. Deposited in the library of Alexandria and lost when the library was burned by Julius Caesar. No other copies known to be in existence.

  However Jan might swear, or vent his contempt upon the Roman upstart, as many another scholar had, the manuscripts of Abdullah Sid were lost. Ibn Mahmud, not being prophetic enough to know that anyone would be so thoroughly unlettered as to destroy at a whim the works of the ages, had not listed all the properties of the diamond in his description.

  Jan laid the tumbled tomes aside. Baffled, he looked at the diamond. What properties did it have? The suddenness of his first discoveries had unnerved him to be very experimental. He knew how thoroughly dangerous it would be to make random tests. One might wind up in the Infernal regions with no succor or he might find himself an elephant or he might, who knew, discover himself consorting—God forbid—with ifrits!

  His puzzling was so intense that he did not hear the slip of a window catch, expertly undone with a wire. He felt a small breath of air and then he turned to discover a man with the chief Communist political argument, the lead pipe, upraised in his hand. He dodged and struck out. Jan was slight of build and stature. The lead pipe came on through his defense, slammed at his head, connected and connected again. Jan fell beside his desk. Sweeping the Two-World Diamond into his pocket, the lumberjack, who was against wealth only so long as he had none, rushed off in quivering glee, writhing all over himself at the thought of how many servants he could now keep.

  Jan, inert beside the desk, groaned faintly and was still.

  Chapter Seven

  Turnabout

  It was dawn on the Terror but the only intelligence of it that the people in the brig had was activity in the decks above them. Tiger, stiff with having cradled Wanna’s head on his arm all night, flexed himself like a big cat. In so doing he disturbed the others who still slept and they started to object until they found that it was Tiger who had done the disturbing, at which they relapsed into sufferance.

  Tombo and Malek, at the other end of the cell, eventually began to awaken and with many growls and grunts prepared to take up the day.

  No guards appeared, no food appeared. In this shabby and unregulated vessel, one could not expect such a humanity as food and water. But food and water did not engross the inmates’ thoughts very long. Tombo grunted into an erect posture.

  “Now we’ll see,” he said, “if the diamond has come back.” And he came forward through them toward Tiger.

  In the open, Tiger might have proven a physical match for an ifrit but not here where the Jinni’s arms could so quickly encircle and crush. Accordingly, Tiger let his pockets be patted. He raised objections at any handling of Wanna for he had already assured himself that she did not possess it. Tombo decided she had no pockets in her filmy garments anyway and satisfied himself by examining where she had slept. He then bumbled on to a search of the others in the cell, very watchful lest any quick passing be done by these humans.

  There was a sudden yelp of amazement and the crunch of Tombo’s clawed fist striking a blow. Muddy squeaked in pain and writhed back. As little light as there was, the diamond caught it and glittered as it lay in Tombo’s palm.

  “So you decided to try to swindle me, did you? If you foolish humans only knew the power of this stone! But I leave you to rot and die. Malek! Take my arm!”

  Tombo, bending beneath the overhead, saw that Malek was in place. Then he juggled the stone around, peering at it and throwing sparks off a flint with his knuckles so that he could see the sign within the stone. Finally he was satisfied.

  “To Tarbutón both! Fly!” cried Tombo.

  There was a gust and a spin of air, a blurred spot where they had been and a rush from Tiger.

  There was a thunk upon the floor and Tiger was grasping emptiness.

  Tombo and Malek were gone!

  Stupefied by this vanishment, accustomed as they were to the activity and powers of the jinn, the five humans remained motionless for some seconds. And then Tiger scrambled around on the floor and finally came up holding the diamond he had struck from Tombo’s hand at the instant of departure.

  “Huh!” said Tiger. “A magic stone!”

  His companions pressed around him. Wanna wept disconsolately in the corner. Tiger struck flint and steel again and again, looking thoroughly at the stone.

  “That sign in there has something to do with it. The way it’s held!” said Tiger. “Here, everybody grab hold of everybody. Come on, Wanna. If they can do it, we can!”

  They formed a circle, each holding the next. Then Tiger, holding the stone, cried, “To Tarbutón all five! Fly!”

  Nothing happened. Resolutely, Tiger turned the stone with another side up. Again he pronounced the command. Again nothing happened.

  For two hours and more they worked at it and always without success, trying different commands, trying different positions of the gem, facing it to various points of the compass.

  Finally, with one last try wherein Tiger said, “Anywhere, let’s GO!” they gave it up and sank back.

  “Must work for the Jinn and not for humans,” said Tiger. “How’d you get this stone, Muddy?”

  “I didn’t steal it! I didn’t do nothin’ wrong. I just woke up and there it was, and I didn’t do nothin’ about it and I didn’t know it was even on me until the admiral shook me out. Honest, I—”

  “Pipe down,” said Tiger. “Wanna leaves it in Tarbutón and it turns up back here again. Don’t know why it tried Muddy! By the way, Wanna, what happened when the old lady kicked off?”

  “You mean Ramus the Magnificent?” said Wanna, dutiful subject that she had been.

  “I mean Ramus of the Triple Chin,” said Tiger.

  “She died.”

  “I know,” said Tiger patiently.

  “That was some time back,” said Wanna.

  “Whatever time it was, what happened?” said Tiger.

  “They kept it secret,” said Wanna and then evidently decided that it was still a secret for she said nothing more.

  “How’d she die?” prompted Tiger.

  “Old age, some said. They kept it awfully quiet for days. And then Zongri—”

  “Who?” said four voices at once in startled alarm.

  “Zongri. King of the ifrits of Barbossi Isles. The cousin of Ramus. He was at the palace when the news came and he took charge of the kingdom. And some said it was terribly lucky he was, too, because there might have been a revolution or something and people killed. So he took command of the government and had himself crowned king and recalled all the navy ships that had been sent against Arif-Emir, and the last morning I was there he was supposed to be making plans for a full-scale attack on Arif because of some silly jewel. So it is fortunate that Zongri—”

  “But Zongri!” said Ryan. “He’s Tiger’s worst enemy! He swore he’d see Tiger dead. He escaped from the slave camps only last March! He’ll murder Tiger on sight and kill the rest of us for the fun of it!”

  “That’s so,” said Wanna, whose education was, after all, only that of a temple dancing girl. And then she began to weep.

  “Not only that,” said Ryan remorselessly, “but Arif-Emir will stretch us in the sun, every one, and let us dance a jig on air. We just escaped him! That leaves us without a haven anywhere in the world! Whew! Am I glad we didn’t take that voyage to Tarbutón like Tombo! This is safe compared to Tarbutón or Balou!”

  “And the item over which Zongri and Arif will fight,” said Tiger, not without mirth, “is right here in my hand.”

  “Oh, Tiger! Throw it away!” pleaded Wanna. “It’s too dangerous!”

  Tiger, following the Arabian adage of always listening carefully to the advice of women and then doing the exact opposite, chucked her under the chin. “Honey, if I were Old Thunderguts up on deck—”

  Whirrrrrrr! Zzzzzzt!

>   Startled and jolted and much agog even for himself, Tiger found his eyes looking forward the length of the Terror. He tensed up to fight for his life. The guards with their naked weapons were strolling about the quarterdeck, enjoying the morning sunlight. The makeshift throne creaked to the roll of the vessel in the smooth swell. Yellow sunlight, blue water and a dirty ship were all before his gaze. And none attacked him! He raised his hand and found out that it held a gin bottle, half empty. Come to think of it, he felt a little drunk. He glanced at himself and discovered that he was clothed in ermine which had raised many generations of moths. Further, he was flabby and ancient and he didn’t smell good.

  He digested this. He was Old Thunderguts! He took a swig at the bottle to brace himself. Then, surrounded by enemies as he was, he made his wits work swiftly—which is to say, he made Old Thunderguts’ wits work as well as his own soul’s. He came up with the realization that the diamond was at the bottom of this change. He recalled his last words. He looked into his hands and pockets. But the diamond was not there. Abruptly he understood that Old Thunderguts must be down in the brig possessed of Tiger’s body and Tiger’s strength and that Wanna was down there, too!

  Tiger as Thunderbolt steadied himself and thought fast. The diamond must still be down there. By some accident this thing might get upset at any instant. Therefore he had to act swiftly.

  “Guard!” he roared.

  “Your Majesty!” said a buckaroon officer.

  “Why are we cruising here?”

  “By Your Majesty’s orders, sire. We are standing on and off out of sight of land off Tarbutón to pick up any stray cargoes which might show and to seek opportunity to transfer our prisoners to shore for ransom. No sails in sight, sire. Your fleet is ready to hand.” The officer bowed.

  “I am bored!” said Tiger as Thunderbolt. “Have up the prisoners!”

  The guards wandered away to do his orders and Tiger as Thunderbolt waited a little nervously for fear that something might have happened down there or that this affair might not go off. That he was nervous upset him because Tiger as Tiger was never nervous. Besides, Thunderbolt’s body had lice.

  In time the guards came back dragging their captives with them. The young officer in charge was much discomfited by the disappearance of the two ifrits, for he feared it would be visited upon him. But he was not at all dismayed by the bawlings of the big sailor in the yellow headsilk.

  “Damn your peepers! I tell you I’m emperor!” howled Thunderbolt as Tiger. “I’ll roll heads for this! I’ll maim and brain men for this! Leave me go!”

  Tiger as Thunderbolt sat calm and bored, waiting for their nearer approach. They came at last, despite much wrestling on the part of Thunderbolt as Tiger, to the foot of the throne.

  “You look,” said Tiger as Thunderbolt, “to be a lad of too much sense and balance to go mad. You say you’re the emperor of the buckaroons?”

  “Aye, blast you! I’ll rip you apart! What magic is this?”

  “What’s that you have in your hand, guard?” said Tiger as Thunderbolt.

  “A diamond I took off him, sire. I mind your rule of share alike or lose a head and here it is.”

  Tiger as Thunderbolt gasped a little with relief to have his hands upon it again. And he was amazed that he would feel nervous at all.

  “You’re Tiger,” said Tiger as Thunderbolt.

  “I’m the emperor of the buckaroons!” shouted Thunderbolt as Tiger.

  “I am bored,” said Tiger as Thunderbolt. “There are those aboard who suppose I am getting old. There are those aboard who would conspire and reduce me that keeps them full of rum and heavy with money. Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll take you on, one knife apiece. You’re a likely, brawny lad and I’ve every reason to suppose you’re a good fighter. If I win, I’ll have proved it. If you win, you can have my crown, understood?”

  An amazed crew was gathering aft to hear this. They had, in fact, lately listened to conspiracies to unseat the aging old ruffian whose desire for blood was often satisfied at their expense and without profit.

  “Your name’s Tiger,” said Tiger as Thunderbolt. “I’ve heard of you. One-time baron of the realm of Ramus, a hard man in a fight.”

  “I’m Thunderbolt!” cried Thunderbolt as Tiger.

  “So you contest my throne. So we’ll have at it. Lads and subjects. Do you consider Tiger a good leader? You’ll have heard of him. He says he’s runner-up for the title. Do you agree to accept him if he wins?”

  The crew was ready for any amusement, particularly a fight, particularly a way which would unsaddle them of Old Thunderguts. If the big sailor won, the guards could always finish him off if he didn’t work out. The chief virtue of Old Thunderguts was that he had made such a reputation in his earlier days that he was a byword which caused fear in merchantmen and navies. So be it.

  “Yea. Hurrah!” said the crew.

  “Then clear the quarterdeck,” said Tiger as Thunderbolt. “Lash the helm and pass up two knives.”

  Wanna, much unsettled, was weeping over Tiger’s being so far out of his head as to believe himself to be a buckaroon monarch and she clung to Thunderbolt as Tiger pitifully until swept back by the guards.

  “All off the quarterdeck!” said Tiger as Thunderbolt.

  “Wait!” said Thunderbolt as Tiger, for his rage had cooled to a point where he realized that he would be stabbing his own body and was, in short, in a considerable mess against unknown magic.

  Tiger as Thunderbolt threw his opponent a knife. The quarterdeck was cleared. And then Tiger gripped the stone and whispered, “If I was you—”

  Whirrrrrrr! Zzzzzzt!

  Whirrrrrrr! Zzzzzzt!

  Tiger steadied himself as Tiger and plunged ten inches of good steel into the heart of Old Thunderguts. There was no need to strike again. The buckaroon emperor pitched to the deck, the steel still in him, quivering with his death spasms. Tiger swooped over him, swept up the diamond and whisked from its sheath the overlength rapier the emperor had worn.

  There was a shudder of pleasure amongst the buckaroons. But the guards had long had their own selections of who was to be the next ruler—the officer in the red shirt. With Red Shirt at their head, the guards sprang forward.

  A sailor who is used to a cutlass does not much apprehend the dangers he runs against a rapier. This was one reason Old Thunderguts had so long maintained his sadistic reign. And Tiger, who had studied rapier as something a baron had to wear, knew how to use it.

  He used the rapier so quickly and with so much efficiency that Red Shirt’s followers, the remaining two, fell away, leaving five men very dead on the planking before Tiger. Red Shirt, however, with his rule in sight, was heedless of death and desertion. Fighting with more strength and skill, he fended with a knife in his left hand and struck hard blows with his right-hand weapon, a vicious boarding pike some two feet longer than the rapier.

  Tiger skipped up to the top of the after house, nimbly avoiding the thrusts of the pike. He tripped over a coiled sheet as he fell back. Red Shirt came up over the edge of the house. Tiger scooped up the coiled line and threw it expertly. Red Shirt, tangled pike and knife, went backwards like a clawing cat. But a bigger cat slashed through. Tiger, with two quick punctures, let out Red Shirt’s sinful life.

  Tiger did not stay to watch the throes. He spun about and from the house looked down at the mass of buckaroons in the waist.

  “Cheerily now, lads. Step up with your steel, any of you who think my orders are not worth obedience! Step up, I say.”

  They looked at him, already tall above them by virtue of the quarterdeck’s raise and the house and tall again in his own right. His headsilk was yellow in the sun, his face was calm and determined, his sea boots were planted like they belonged there. A naked rapier was red to the hilt in his hand and the red ran. And from headsilk to boots and boots to headsilk he looked to one and all very, very much like the new emperor of the buckaroons.

  They cheered him again and again,
not because they had to but because they appreciated a deliverance and a victory.

  The other ships swung in to find out what was happening and each of the three was told of the victory. One ship was doubtful until Old Thunderguts’ head was thrown aboard it and its skipper invited to a contest. Then it, too, flew signal flags in celebration.

  “And now,” said Tiger to a crew which thought it would get a new rum issue, “you’ll holystone these decks, you swabs, mend these sails, reverse these halyards and set the ordnance to rights. You’re a lot of stinking pigs but I’ve got a strange notion to make men of you yet!”

  And with Ryan and Walleye as his new officers and Wanna installed in the emperor’s cabin, Tiger prowled the ship, ended disputes with a quick knockout of disputants, cruised his fleet and ended all disputes there by trouncing one captain and smashing the head of one would-be mutineer, and generally, at a minimal cost in blood and sweat, began the building of a fighting organization. On the Terror, with the throne jettisoned, Tiger ate a peaceful evening meal.