Mission Earth 6: Death Quest

by L. Ron Hubbard

  As I went out into the night, I shook my fist at the sky. "By all the stars, by all the Gods and Demons of the firmament," I cried. "In spite of what you are doing to me, I must prevail! Do what thou wilt, I shall still terminate that awful woman!"

  A deadly oath.

  I meant it!

  PART FORTY-SEVEN

  Chapter 1

  I did not have too much money. I could not go back to Miss Pinch's and endure those women.

  I drove to midtown Manhattan and abandoned the manure truck on a side street. Lugging my bag and viewers, I made my way to a hotel I had noticed at times in the past. It was a wino hangout, shabby and dirty, the lobby littered with collapsed human wrecks. The very place to hide out, for here they didn't even bother to sort the living from the dead.

  I got a room with a cracked window, cracked washbasin and cracked floor. Cockroaches swarmed, thriving on the remains of a soiled carpet.

  I should have been exhausted, but I was not. I had too much to do.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, I got out pad and pen and sat down at the rickety table. One must be orderly, one must do things by the textbook. I must be careful and precise, for only in that way was I ever going to bring about the demise of the Countess Krak.

  I wrote down the Apparatus fundamental musts:

  1. PREPARE A BASE BEFORE YOU ATTACK

  2. HANDLE YOUR TROOPS BEFORE YOU ATTACK

  3. PLAN BEFORE YOU ATTACK

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  4. GATHER WEAPONS BEFORE YOU ATTACK

  5. PINPOINT OBJECTIVES BEFORE YOU ATTACK

  6. TIME EVERYTHING

  I knew you had to do these things in exact order. Geniuses, long since, have worked these things out. If an organization such as the Apparatus has the prime duty of undermining a civilization, it must be thorough. One must make the maximum amount of trouble for the maximum number of people for the minimum number of reasons. That rule holds good for governments, for governmental organizations and for government officers and agents. Even on Earth, which is primitive about such things, the FBI and others adhere to these maxims totally. So I knew I was being wise.

  So I took up number five first. That was the easy one. The primary objective was the Countess Krak. I knew that very well from long and bitter experience.

  As to number one, I had my base in this hotel room.

  As to number six, I looked at my watch and carefully noted the hour, minute and second and put them down.

  Suddenly, I realized that I was not taking these in perfect order. I got a grip on myself. I should be working on number two, handling the troops.

  The only troops was me. I fully realized that now. Bury and Torpedo and even Madison had failed me. I was entirely on my own.

  What was the matter with the troops?

  Venereal disease. What with goats and dogs and Torpedo, this was obviously the case. While there was no sign of it, in every text you read on military matters it is a problem. Good.

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  Determined to do things right this time, I let first things be first. Even when they were second on the list.

  To handle the troops required rest. I carefully noted the time as required in number six and went to bed.

  Bright and early I got up, brushed the cockroaches off my clothes and dressed.

  Marching with bitter determination, I made my way to a phone kiosk in the lobby and looked up VD clinics. There was one close by. I made an appointment and was promptly there.

  I was the first in and I got quick service. I laboriously filled out a card. A young doctor, without looking at it, sat down in the interview room where I had been placed. He said, "All this is in confidence. You can talk freely. What symptoms have you noticed?"

  "None," I said. "It is simply inevitable."

  "What have your contacts... you know... been?"

  And here I could give him real information. "I have been in contact with a horrible blond woman, a fiend in human form, that treats life as if it were chaff. It is all her fault. She is five feet nine and a half inches tall. She hypnotizes everybody!"

  "How long have these contacts continued?" he said solicitously.

  I counted it up rapidly, using my fingers. The first time I had collided with the Countess Krak was in Spi-teos about half a year before Heller came along. She had murdered an agent who sought to grab at her sexually. "Thirteen months," I said.

  "How do you know you got it from her?" he asked.

  "She forced me into it," I said. "If it weren't for her I would never have had any association with dogs or goats or llamas from Peru."

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  He was shocked, as well he might be. He held up his hand. "Oh, I think we had better not even waste time on examinations. This sounds pretty desperate. Nurse! Bring the big tray quick!"

  And thus began a treatment course which lasted the better part of ten days.

  I endured it because it just showed all I had suffered at her hands.

  First there were the antibiotic shots, seven kinds. Every one of them was agony. I hate needles!

  Then I stoically endured a harrowing experience in which my body temperature was raised to 106 degrees while under medication.

  Next, when I was able to get around again, I got neoarsphenamine-606. The doctor told me that it killed one in every ten thousand and I half expected to be the one. It would show people what she had put me through.

  Finally, a bright day came. I had hardly any money left. I had lost many pounds. The doctor was reviewing the last series of tests.

  "Null," he said. "You now do not have the faintest sign of anything. So the whole course has been very successful. You have been very lucky, really, since there are strains about today which do not respond to any cure at all. Now let me give you one solid piece of advice: Do not ever have any physical contact with that woman ever again. And terminate any association with her as soon as possible!"

  I promised him earnestly to adhere to his advice. I would get on with my termination of the Countess Krak now, as soon as I was able to complete my program.

  Gods, what that woman had put me through!

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  Chapter 2

  The next part of the campaign was "3. PLAN BEFORE YOU ATTACK."

  Accurate planning requires data. Accordingly, I brushed the cockroaches off my viewers to see what the most horrible monster in the universe was up to now.

  They were still in Virginia!

  Heller and the two retired Greyhound bus drivers were sitting in the spring sunlight. Heller was in shorts, getting a suntan in a deck chair. The two drivers, with their collars open and caps on the backs of their heads, were drinking what looked like mint juleps and playing cards under an awning nearby. Loafing at my expense!

  The land yacht and other motor home were parked in an L in a grassy field with their awnings out. The blue-misted mountains were plain in Heller's sight.

  The roar of an approaching motor caused Heller to look up a forest road. It was the jeep, leaping all over the place with Bang-Bang at the wheel. The Countess Krak was in the front seat.

  Suddenly I realized her viewer was blank. (Bleep)! That was because I had her activator-receiver and 831 Relayer here and I was probably four hundred miles or more away!

  The jeep skidded to a halt. Heller rose and went over. He helped the Countess Krak out. She seemed tired. He led her over to a reclining deck chair. A stewardess came running up with a tray and cold drink.

  The Countess Krak patted at her moist face with a

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  handkerchief and took the drink gratefully.

  Heller sat down. "And how goes the training on young Rockecenter?"

  "Well," she said, "I am making progress. I've got him so he'll bathe in water instead of mud. He's stopped making grunting noises and scratching his back against posts."

  "Well, that's something
anyway," said Heller. "But aren't you using a hypnohelmet? I should think you could do it with that pretty fast."

  "I'm trying to train him so he doesn't become a robot," said the Countess. "So I have to preserve his basic personality. But so far, he won't do anything a pig won't do. He just plain won't sit at a table and let any other diner have anything to eat—he keeps pushing them away with his nose. At first I just thought it was early behavior environmental influence, but now I'm afraid I'm up against heredity—a family trait."

  "Well, you're making progress. We could leave soon."

  The Countess Krak frowned. "That's the trouble, really. He won't abandon his pigs."

  "Oh, is that all?" said Heller. "Bang-Bang, come over here." Bang-Bang came over and hunkered down on the grass, nursing a tall Scotch and ice the stewardess must have given him. "Now, why don't I just have Bang-Bang here call Izzy and tell him to rent half a dozen pig trucks?"

  "I'm afraid they're county pigs" said the Countess.

  "Well, we could have Bang-Bang tell Izzy to just buy them. And we could also have Izzy buy a pig farm up near New York, maybe across the river in New Jersey. I smell pigs every time I go by there."

  The Countess said, "Dear, that's a beautiful solution. But let's not bother poor Izzy: he gets so upset

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  when he can't get things exactly like you want them. The phone is working again so why can't Bang-Bang just make the calls right from here?"

  "Well, okay," said Heller. "You're the captain on this voyage. But if we short-circuit Izzy, how do we pay?"

  "Why," said the Countess Krak, brightly, "just put the pig trucks and the pigs and the farm on my Squeeza credit card, of course."

  Bang-Bang leaped up. "It's wonderful to have that card. What would we do without it? I'll get on the phone at once."

  Angrily, I thrust the viewer away. That woman! That fiend! Mudur Zengin would get down to the last pennies of the cash left in his hands and then that half-million-dollar Swiss certificate would be forfeit. Maybe it had already happened!

  She was just doing it to ruin me.

  They would be coming north now.

  I must get on with the next item of my program without delay!

  PLAN BEFORE YOU ATTACK.

  I must have steel jaws open and ready to snap. And those jaws must have teeth!

  Chapter 3

  I went over my basic outline. Apparently I was a little bit out of sequence. If one is going to attack, one must have something to attack with. It is no good, I discovered, to do a plan to use a tank and then have no

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  tank to gather. So I had better pay some attention to "4. GATHER WEAPONS BEFORE YOU ATTACK."

  All right, what weapons could I gather? I looked around. I didn't have a tank. This was going to require real brains.

  My eye happened to land on an old, decayed scrap of newspaper some cockroaches were towing possessively across the floor. I took it away from them. It said "... 'S MORALITY IN QUESTION."

  It was an omen.

  MORALITY!

  I well knew Voltar customs were different. The tremendous life expectancy there meant that one had to be pretty sure who he or she was marrying before taking the plunge: otherwise one could be stuck with an unsuitable partner for a century and a half. So it was quite usual for a man and woman to live together for anything up to two years before tying the final knot. The only way you could get a "divorce" in the Confederacy was by finding the other partner guilty of bigamy or adultery and getting him executed, as the penalty for these was death. So marriage was a totally fatal step.

  But Earth customs, I knew, were quite different. One was expected to take the plunge without any data at all on the other person. They frowned heavily at loose living, no matter how much they practiced it.

  It was a weapon.

  Instantly, I shook the cockroaches out of my clothes, dressed and rushed to 42 Mess Street.

  Madison was sitting at his desk. His sincere and earnest face was somewhat overcast with cloud. I realized I had arrived in the nick of time.

  "How is it going?" I said.

  "Smith," said Madison gloomily, "we're not getting

  front page the way we should. The Whiz Kid went into hiding in Kansas. It was a mistake."

  "What's this fixation on Kansas?" I said.

  "That's Jesse James country. We're still following the Jesse James image pattern, of course."

  "What's the state of morality in Kansas?" I said.

  "Morality? That is the Bible Belt. Bunch of hypocrites. Very hot on morality."

  "Good," I said. "Now open your ears, Madison. The Whiz Kid is leading an immoral life. He is living with a woman to whom he is not married!"

  Madison looked at me and blinked. Then he cupped his chin upon a palm and thought. Suddenly he smiled like the sun coming through the clouds on a stormy day. "I think you may have an idea there, Smith. Not very pro. Not polished, of course. But it is definitely a germ."

  I didn't want to hear any more about germs. I left quickly.

  I went back to the wino hotel. I am sure any self-respecting spider gloats when he has spun a web to trap flies coming his way. I turned my viewers on.

  For some time I only got a flare on Heller's screen. Then suddenly it went off. He had alighted from the land yacht.

  They were heading north!

  The view I had was of the very service station where the gawky country boy had taught Heller all about cars on his original trip to Washington.

  And there was the gawky country boy himself, staring wide-eyed at the huge land yacht.

  Then suddenly the gawky country boy came forward and looked closer at Heller. "YOU!" he cried and stood standing there with his jaw dropped.

  "Hello," said Heller. "How's business?"

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  "Good golly! Whereja get this big motor home? That's the flashiest vehicle I ever see!"

  Heller said, "I think my girl stole it."

  "Gosh!" said the gawky country boy in awe. "You look like you made it real good!" Then he looked behind the land yacht, his eye sweeping down the long length of the convoy which had now pulled off the highway and stood waiting their turns, evidently, at the pump. "Who are all these other people?"

  "Call them my mob," said Heller.

  "Holy smokes! You mean you're a big-time gangster now with a mob and everything?"

  Heller said, "You got diesel for all these trucks?"

  "You said it."

  "And some water for the pigs?"

  "PIGS?" cried the gawky country boy, staring at the convoy.

  "Sure," said Heller. "We're taking them for a ride. They're squealers."

  Bang-Bang's voice as he approached: "What's this about gangsters?"

  Heller said to the boy, "Let me introduce Bang-Bang Rimbombo, the most notorious car bomber in New York."

  "Gosh!" said the boy, pumping Bang-Bang's hand. But the rental trucks down the line were honking their horns. The boy hastily began to refuel the land yacht. Bang-Bang gave him a hand. In a voice that barely reached Heller, Bang-Bang said, to the boy, "When did you meet the boss?"

  "Years ago," the boy said. "I'm the one who gave him his start. And look at him now!"

  The Countess Krak came into Heller's view. She was rummaging in her purse. I realized in horror what

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  she was about to take out: to pay for all these hundreds of gallons of diesel fuel, she would use my Squeeza credit card!

  I turned the viewers off hastily.

  But never mind, flies. The web is spread and you are flying straight into it.

  The attack might be slow but I was sure it would be deadly. I knew Madison. I had seen the gleam in his eye. This would be a kill!

  Chapter 4

  Sure enough, the very next morning, Madison had front page:

&nbs
p; WHIZ KID SURRENDERS TO KANSAS POLICE

  EXTRADITION

  PROCEEDINGS

  WAIVED

  WHIZ KID TO BE

  ARRAIGNED IN NEW JERSEY

  After hectic weeks of hiding from the clutches of the law, Wister today surrendered.. .

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  I knew that Madison was just setting his stage. While I was not quite sure what he meant to do, I had a return of confidence.

  Both Heller's and Krak's viewers were functional, now that they were within a two-hundred-mile range.

  They were walking around a farm, apparently in New Jersey since the country was very flat. Yes! Krak looked across a stretch of water and there was the skyline of New York City!

  Rockecenter's son, Delbert John II, was racing about the rental trucks, shouting "Hello," and "You're here," and "Look at your new home" to the pigs inside. Then he sped excitedly to some concrete buildings, raced in, raced out. He cupped his hands against his mouth and made a sort of squealing noise and gave a signal to the trucks.

  Apparently the drivers dropped gangways, for here came an absolute torrent of pigs!

  Like a traffic cop, the boy was shunting them into the pens. Finally, he closed some gates, waved to the pigs inside and came beaming over to Heller and the Countess Krak.

  "Oh," said Delbert Second, "Ah'm goin' to love it here. Jus' smell that breeze from the othah fahms. What a beeootiful aroma of pigs!"

  "Hey, Bang-Bang," said Heller, looking around to where Bang-Bang was leaning on a post. "I don't see any house."

  "That's how come we could get the place," said Bang-Bang. "It burned down. I took it up with Twoey and he said it didn't matter. He'd sleep in the pens."

  "No," said Heller. "That won't do."

  "It's just fahn with me," said the boy. "These yere

  two men that come with the place and me will make out great."

  Heller looked at two very dirty men who stood nearby, evidently Armenians. They were nodding brightly.

  "Dear," said the Countess in a low voice, "I think we had better leave them the land yacht."

  "They'd ruin it," said Heller.

  "No," said the Countess. "I will have to be coming back and forth to continue his training and I can't work in a pigsty: trying to do that has been the trouble. Now, this has been a good crew: unemployment is high and they'd just be out of work. So we will just leave the drivers and mechanic and stewardesses here to look after the vehicles and the boy. It isn't costing anything, as I can just have Bang-Bang call Mike Mutazione and have him continue their wages and any farm expenses on my Squeeza credit card. We can simply take the jeep back to the office."