by Douglas Hill
Keill had not missed the broken sentence. ‘To those of the what?’
Thr’un smiled. ‘So many questions. But it is I who have questions that are to be answered.’ He moved back, folding his huge arms. ‘First answer me this, Randor. How many other legionaries have survived?’
Keill nodded thoughtfully. ‘So I am the first, as you said, to fall into your trap. I doubt if the others will be so careless.’
‘What others?’ the giant hissed. ‘Where?’
Letting his eyes shift away from Thr’un, Keill assumed an expression of dismay, as if he had said more than he intended. ‘Perhaps there are no others. I... I don’t know.’
‘You will tell me!’ Thr’un bellowed.
Keill bent his head and stared steadfastly at the floor, giving a perfect portrayal of a man determined not to give away a secret.
The giant snorted, and gestured at Jiker and Rish. ‘Bring him along,’ he ordered. ‘You may tie him down and jangle him a little until he feels more conversational.’
Thr’un turned and went abruptly out, and Keill raised his head to confront the muzzles of the guns in the other men’s hands, and the unholy gleam of pleasure in their eyes.
They guided him into a corridor that ran outside the cubicle, both men staying well behind him and staying on opposite sides of the corridor, so that even Keill could not hope to turn and lunge at both together. So he went without argument, using his chance to examine what he could see of the layout of the dome.
It seemed to follow the basic, standard shape of most space-domes. It was ovoid, and on two levels.
The upper one would normally be a hemisphere of metal and plastic, topped with a broad lens-like circle of plastiglass and used primarily for observation, communication and the like. So Keill knew from the flat, blank ceiling that he must be on the lower level.
Most space-domes had one wide corridor running round the circumference of the lower level, just inside the tough outer hull. That main corridor would surround all the various functioning sections of the dome –
like workrooms and laboratories, sleeping quarters, communal eating and recreation areas – along with the usual life-support systems, storage rooms and so on. And these would be connected by narrower passages that would each join up at some point with the main outer corridor.
So it seemed to be, in this case. The passage they had entered from the cubicle led to a broad, curving corridor as Keill had expected. A quick glance over his shoulder arid he had exactly what he needed for his bearings – because he had glimpsed, behind them, the broad and heavy hatchway of an airlock. That had to be the dome’s entrance – almost certainly its only one.
They moved along the main corridor, then soon turned down another of the narrow connecting passages. There the two armed men had to walk nearly shoulder to shoulder, but even so it would have been insanely risky for Keill to turn on them. Anyway, there was too much he still wanted to find out –
and, he hoped, there might be better chances for escape later.
In a moment they came to a doorway opening off the passage, and the two urged Keill through it. It might once have been a laboratory, when the dome was serving its original purpose of scientific research.
Now it was disused and empty, except for a low, heavy metal platform, which had once probably held an assortment of machinery and equipment.
Now, apparently, it was to hold Keill Randor.
‘Get on there,’ Jiker snarled, with a gesture of the jangler. ‘On y’r back.’
Keill did as he was told, calmly, though he could guess what was to come. But Rish was holding the beam-gun aimed unerringly at Keill’s head, and looked only too ready to use it.
Jiker stooped and took several metal bands and clamps from beneath the platform, obviously well prepared beforehand for their purpose. He fastened the bands tightly across Keill, clamping him to the bare metal surface so that he was immobilized – held by wrists and ankles, and by bands across chest and thighs.
‘Now,’ Jiker said, licking thin lips, ’think about them questions the boss asked y’.’
He raised the jangler and pressed the stud.
The agony flooded in. It was as if every nerve-end was being dragged forcibly from its place, to be dipped in acid and hacked at by a saw-toothed blade. Keill’s body contorted, convulsed, threshing within the confines of the bands that held him – and blood streamed from his lip where he had sunk his teeth in to keep from screaming.
Then, instantly, the pain was gone. Breathing heavily, he licked his torn lip and glared with hatred at the grinning face of Jiker.
‘Nice, was it? Anythin’ t’ say yet?’
Wordless, Keill looked away.
‘Right, take as long as y’ like. Plenty more where that came from.’
Jiker raised his gun again, glee in his eyes.
And again the murderous pain.
And again... And again...
After what may have been the sixth time, or the tenth – Keill could no longer be sure – he became aware that the giant had entered the room. For a time there was a pause while Thr’un consulted with his men, and Keill could assess his damage.
His body ached with bruising where the convulsions had thrust him against the metal bands. His lip was swollen and throbbing. And his head seemed to have become a size larger, so ferocious was the ache that filled it. But, tentatively moving his neck and as much of the rest of himself as he could, he knew that he still had command of his body, that he was not seriously injured.
Then the giant loomed over him.
‘You seem determined to suffer,’ said the melodious bass voice. ‘As I would have expected. Are you any closer to telling me what I wish to know?’
Keill neither spoke nor looked at him.
‘Also as I would have expected,’ Thr’un said with an exaggerated sigh. ‘The Legions made their men little more than robots, blindly following the demands of their masters.’
An odd emphasis in the words gave Keill the glimmer of an idea. Finding what was left of his voice, he croaked, ‘Do you not follow your masters?’
Thr’un took the bait. ‘My Master,’ he began, ’does not require me...’
He stopped abruptly, glowering down at Keill. ‘Very crafty, legionary.’ The voice rumbled deep and deadly. ‘You have been trying hard, have you not, to learn what you can. But you have learned nothing.
And even if I were able to reveal to you the name and whereabouts of the Master, you would not live long enough to make use of that knowledge.’
Keill ignored the death threat, his mind grasping and examining the rest of the speech. A ‘Master’? Who set up this trap on Creffa, and also sent the men on sweeps near Moros, as Jiker had said? Who seemed to give his minions something of a free hand? And whose name and whereabouts Thr’un was not ’able’
to reveal?
It was all beginning to sound like something he had heard before.
He tried to focus his mind, to contact Glr and pass on what he had learned. Perhaps the little alien could make more sense out of these vague hints. Or perhaps the Overseers...
But then the giant was speaking again, distracting him. ‘You may now decide, Randor. Tell me of these other survivors, and you have a chance to keep your useless life. Stay silent, and you will die, now, in a most unpleasant manner.’
Keill smiled coldly. ‘As far as I know, there are no others. I have met none, I have heard of none.’
‘Lies!’ boomed the giant, and gestured to Jiker. The thin man hurried forward, grinning.
While Rish kept his beam-gun steadily on Keill, Jiker removed two of the bonds – those across his body – leaving him clamped only by his wrists and ankles.
‘As you know,’ Thr’un said malevolently, ’janglers do not themselves kill. But you will also know that the convulsions they cause can be very severe. A man who might happen to be held by hands and feet might suffer a great deal of damage. He is likely to bend himself almost in two – and his neck or his s
pine will snap as if they were glass.’
Keill said nothing, still striving to gather his concentration, to reach Glr.
‘Have you an answer now to my question?’ Thr’un bellowed.
But Keill ignored him, for the voice of Glr had slid into his mind.
Keill, if you are projecting, I cannot fix on it. It is too muzzy. Try harder – because there is trouble. I sense two humans moving nearby, probably searching for the ship.
As expected, Keill thought, the giant had sent men out to look for their captive’s ship. With a supreme effort, he gathered his thought. ‘Glr, take off at once, and stay in space on the dark side. If you hear nothing more from me, tell the Overseers that I...’
But he was unable to continue the message, for Thr’un was bellowing again, drawing his attention.
‘As you wish, legionary! If there are others, some will no doubt visit me soon. They may prove more co-operative. I have no more use for you!’ He turned to Jiker. ‘Go ahead."
Jiker began his high-pitched titter as he took aim. Then the jangler flared.
As before, Keill’s body twisted, writhed, flexed – and now arched high off the metal surface. Arched in an impossible curve, jerking and threshing, only his arms and his feet held still.
Then there was a sickening, grinding crack.
Jiker released the firing stud, and Keill’s body slumped down, limp and motionless.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The intense, crushing pain that continued within his body proved, to Keill’s half-conscious surprise, that he was still alive. It also told him that he would probably not live for much longer.
The pain clawed at every segment of his body. Each muscle and joint was in torment, but most of all his neck and lower back. He had clearly broken his spine, as Thr’un had indicated. Perhaps his spinal cord still held, temporarily, but he would not have long before it too gave way. He would probably be dead even before Thr’un or his men got round to finishing him off.
He felt no fear, no self-pity – just an edge of regret that he had achieved so little against Thr’un and his false legionaries. But at least he had gathered a few hints, which he still had to pass on to Glr. He fought with the haze in his mind, fought to focus his thoughts, to make contact again with the alien. But the pain, and voices dimly heard, intruded. One of the voices was Thr’un’s, from some distance away – as if the giant had turned to leave, after Keill’s collapse, and was issuing orders from the doorway.
’...won’t have survived that,’ the deep bass voice was saying. ‘Strip off the uniform for one of the other men to use.’
‘Whatd’ we do with th’ body?’ Jiker’s thin voice.
‘Put it in the airlock, and some of the others can take it to the ship. We’ll throw it out when we next visit the planet, and let it burn in atmosphere.’
Jiker began to say something else, but Keill didn’t hear – for Glr was in his mind, fear and worry plain in the inner voice.
Keill clutched at his concentration, and in pain-filled bursts of thought, told Glr what had happened.
In the midst of the anxiety pouring from Glr’s mind, he heard – astonishingly – the rise of the alien’s silent laughter.
Keill, you are a hardhead!Glr cried. Clinging to your doubts still – even to convince yourself that you’re dying!
Clearly, Keill thought, he had not managed to project properly, and Glr had misunderstood. He began to try again, but the alien interrupted.
No, I received you properly. Don’t you see? Talis told you the simple truth. Nothing those men could do could break so much as your little finger!
The hope that ballooned up within Keill was instantly crushed by disbelief. The agony in his back was very real...
Of course it is!Glr replied. The weapon put every muscle and tendon under terrible stress – that is what hurts! But nothing is broken! Nothing can be!
Hope seeped back, determined. The pain from aching ligaments? The terrible cracking sound merely from joints shifting under the strain, as a man can crack his knuckles without damage?
He tried tentatively to move his body, half-expecting that he might be paralysed. But it moved – torso shifting, knees rising. As he moved, the pain flared, then eased, slightly. And hope burst forth undiminished.
It seemed to be true! He was probably suffering only from a ferocious stretching and twisting. And a lifetime of gruelling Legion exercises, which were focused on stretching and twisting, had made his body supple beyond most people’s imaginings. He had very likely pulled a muscle or two, strained ligaments –
but he was intact, he was functional. It might hurt, but his body would do his bidding.
By then it was time for it to do so. The whole exchange with Glr, at the incalculable speed of thought, had taken place while Jiker and Rish were turning back towards him from the door. The giant Thr’un had presumably left the room. And his two men, only glancing at Keill who was again lying as limp as he could, began at once to release the clamps that held him to the metal platform.
Then Jiker’s sharp eyes registered the faint movement of Keill’s chest, with his breathing.
‘Sunfires,’ Jiker gasped, ’he’s still alive!’
Keill remained motionless, and made his breath rasp in his throat.
‘Not f’r long, I reckon,’ Rish grunted. ‘Give him another burst.’
Keill sent out a sharp mental call. ‘Glr, come in now, quickly, and over fly the dome, as low as you can.’
I hear and obey,came the laughing reply.
Jiker was taking a tentative step forward. ‘Can’t be faking – not after what we gave him. Must be a lot stronger ’n he looks.’
Keill made his chest heave, gave a choking rattle in his throat, then sagged, not breathing.
Jiker took another stride forward, and bent over him, listening.
And with the howling, throbbing roar of a thousand devils, Keill’s spaceship thundered past overhead, no more than a man’s height from the upper surface of the dome.
Both men jerked their heads up, gaping fearfully.
And Keill reached, grasped Jiker’s tunic, shifted his hips for leverage, and flung the skinny man into Rish’s face.
Every muscle of his back shrieked its displeasure, but it was an entirely bearable pain. He swung round and came to his feet, just as Rish, face contorted with anger, also scrambled upright. Both men had dropped their guns as they sprawled, but Rish was too enraged to think about weapons. He lowered his head like a bull, and charged.
Keill swayed aside, grasped and jerked at a meaty shoulder so that the charge became a headlong plunge.
The impact of Rish’s forehead on the corner of the metal platform echoed dully in the room. The heavy man sagged to the floor, his face a mask of blood, an indentation showing where a segment of his skull had been crushed back into his brain.
Keill did not glance at the corpse, for Jiker was scrabbling across the floor towards one of the guns.
Keill sprang to intercept him – grasping him by the belt and hurling him across the room, where he bounced from the wall and lay huddled. Then Keill scooped up both the jangler and his own energy-gun.
‘Now it’s your turn to do a little dance,’ he growled.
Jiker was jibbering with fear. ‘How... how c’n you be alive?’
‘Worry about your own life,’ Keill said. ‘The other men – where will they be?’
‘Dunno,’ Jiker gabbled. ‘Canteen, maybe – no!’ His voice rose thinly as Keill aimed the jangler at him.
‘They’ll be suitin’ up – to go out an’ see what that was just went by!’
Keill flung out a mental message. ‘Glr, circle back and disable their ship. Then bring the ship down and fire a blast or two just in front of the dome’s entrance.’
To keep them penned up inside?Glr said, doubtfully.
‘Yes.’There was a cold deadliness in the mental tone. ‘I want them all in here, with me.’
As you wish,said Glr.
Keill had not taken his eyes from Jiker. ‘Where will the men be, suiting up?’
‘Equipment room, down th’ other end by th’ entrance.’
‘And Thr’un?’
‘Maybe with ’em... Maybe up in th’ dome, where he stays most ’f th’ time...’ An evil glint lit up Jiker’s eyes. ‘Y’ won’t get past him, y’know! He’ll take y’ apart! He ain’t human!’
Keill was about to demand more detail on that interesting point when the door to the chamber was flung open.
One of the other men burst in, obviously sent to collect Jiker and Rish. The pass Glr had made in the ship had produced action. Thr’un would be organizing his men to face a possible attack.
But Keill spun and fired – with the beam-gun – before the newcomer could open his mouth. The man screamed and toppled, a small flame licking for an instant at the edge of the hole burned by the energy gun in the centre of his chest. And in that instant Jiker scrambled to his feet and lunged desperately at Keill.
Effortlessly Keill stepped within the reach of the frantically clawing fingers and drove a short, jabbing punch at the side of the long jaw. Anger and left-over pain put extra venom behind his fist – and the angle of Jiker’s head, as his body sprawled, showed that it was not only janglers that broke necks.
Beneath his feet the floor quivered, heavy vibrations shaking the rock foundation of the dome. That would be Glr, making short work of the cruiser.
Keill moved quickly towards the door, bending over the man he had shot, freeing his gun. A needier, just for variety. But not much more useful to Keill than the jangler. He dropped both weapons on the floor, and smashed them with two driving blows of his heel. His own beam-gun would be all the weapon he would need.
There had been eight men, and Thr’un had made nine. Now there were five, besides the giant.
More vibrations underfoot – and then the voice of Glr in Keill’s mind.
At the entrance, as requested. Two men in spacesuits had started to come out. They have gone back in at some speed.
‘Good,’Keill replied. ‘Stay there and keep watch. And don’t speak for a while – I’m going to be busy.’
