Mission Earth Volume 7: Voyage of Vengeance

by L. Ron Hubbard

The view went clear.

  Stabb came out of the flight deck. He was holding the pilot recording box on which they record last-minute occurrences before they crash.

  Another child, struggling up, got in his way. He smashed its skull with the box he held.

  Stabb came opposite Krak’s seat. A man clawed at him and he smashed him with the box. The captain was looking in the rack for the gold wrapped packages. He found them and tore one’s wrapping off. He looked at the silk scarf and threw it away. He ripped up the other one, found another scarf. He tossed it aside in disgust.

  Several passengers were still moving. Systematically, Stabb battered them to death. Then he and Jeeb began to rip watches off wrists and wallets from pockets. They emptied a bag full of baby clothes and threw their loot in.

  Then Stabb bent over in the center of the ship and lifted up the Countess Krak. He threw her over his shoulder and walked back toward Jeeb. The Countess Krak’s hair was hiding her face. Her arms trailed, limp.

  Stabb made a gesture and Jeeb went up the ladder.

  Jeeb appeared at my level. He put the bag of loot aside and reached back. He picked Krak off the captain’s shoulder and tossed her on the floor.

  Stabb came up.

  “We still over the sea?” he shouted.

  “Miles to go to shore,” an Antimanco pilot shouted back.

  “Stand clear!” roared Stabb. “Engineer, let go the tractor beams!”

  I looked down through the opening as the ladder was pulled in.

  The airliner suddenly fell away from us.

  It went over on one wing. It began to spiral down.

  I felt very heavy and then realized we were climbing at a rapid rate.

  An Antimanco pilot called, “There’s islands below us. It says on the map they’re called the Palagruza.”

  That wasn’t so good. I didn’t want it crashed on an island. “Track that airliner carefully!” I ordered.

  I looked down through the open hatch. It was black. I could not see anything. Suddenly it snapped closed. I got up and looked at the screens.

  They had the airliner in clear view with nonvisible light bands. It was swooping, its engines still going.

  “It won’t pull out,” said Stabb. “I wrecked the controls.”

  It seemed to be heading in a general, floppy way toward a large island. I held my breath. It had to crash in the sea and leave no traces.

  Suddenly it went into a vertical power dive and did not come out.

  It struck with a huge explosion of spray just offshore of the larger island.

  I sighed with relief.

  I turned my attention to the floorboards.

  There lay the Countess Krak. She would be out for another three hours, at least.

  I did not want to touch her. I began a gesture to Captain Stabb. “Tie her hands and feet and tie them well.”

  The Countess Krak was deadly no more. She was in my hands!

  PART SIXTY-ONE

  Chapter 1

  We returned to the Earth base in the mountain at Afyon, Turkey, well before dawn.

  We dropped through the electronic illusion that even radar reflected as part of the mountain’s peak. We came to rest on the hangar floor.

  I did not want to touch the Countess Krak. I signaled Stabb to pick her up.

  He threw her over his shoulder and clambered down the ladder. “We got our hostage,” he said to me. “Now, when do we start robbing the banks?”

  “I have to make sure they have gold shipments in them,” I said. “I’ll get my lines out and let you know first thing.”

  “Where do I put the hostage?” said Stabb. “We want her in a safe place.”

  “Oh, I’ve got one,” I said. “Follow me.”

  I walked into the prison block and all the way to the end. Here lay the big cell I had built for Crobe, completely escape-proof even for the Countess Krak.

  I worked the combination lock on the outer door. I unlocked the inner door. I threw on the lights. The place was filthy: it had never been cleaned up. And Crobe didn’t care where he did what he did.

  There was a flooding lever that would wash the place out. I reached for it and then I stayed my hand. It served the (bleepch) right.

  I stepped in. A horrible stench. I gestured toward the bed.

  Stabb walked in and threw her on it.

  We withdrew. I securely locked the inner door. I closed the outer one and spun the combination.

  I looked through the small square port. What a delight! There she lay, tousled and defeated—my prisoner. At last I had removed her as a menace!

  When I thought over her list of crimes against me, I was appalled that I had let her live so long. What an oversight!

  A puckish whim hit me. I could not spit on her. But I could make sure that when she woke she would be chilled to the bone.

  I reached over and pulled the flooding lever.

  Sprays jetted out from the walls in a blinding rush. Their force was driving filth off the walls and along the floor and into the drains. I had not intended that. I only wanted the place soaking wet.

  I tried to shut the lever off but it was an automatic set. That (bleeped) construction chief had done his work too well when he had fitted out this place. The jet sprays ran their course. The water vapor hung in the cell. A hissing sound started up. The water was followed by jets of drying air! That was not what I intended at all! I wrestled with the lever but it was moving back at its own speed.

  Upset, I looked back through the small port. I could not believe my eyes! It was nearly time for the paralysis dagger to wear off but the cold water had revived her.

  She was looking at her bonds.

  Then she did something with her wrists. A turning twist.

  Her hands were free!

  She grabbed at her ankles, and faster than I could follow she had her feet untied!

  Belatedly I reached for the clamp which would pin her to the bed. I closed it. I stared back into the room.

  The clamps came down but they closed on a bed with nobody in it!

  She was standing, disheveled, in the middle of the floor.

  She saw my face at the port.

  Her mouth framed, “You!” She pointed. Straight at me!

  I reeled back. No telling what that finger could do to my wits.

  Far down the corridor, I looked back at the door.

  Oh, she was dangerous! Part of her theater training must have been as an escapist. She had made nothing of those bonds.

  I would have to handle that port. Somebody else might look in. Nobody knew the combination to that cell but me. Nobody had a key to the inner door but me. Still, I must not take any chances.

  I went into the hangar and found a square of cloth and some tape.

  I sneaked back up the passageway, staying very low so she would not see me.

  All in one motion, I taped the cloth over the port.

  I withdrew to a safe distance. The cell was soundproof and escape-proof. I would forbid anyone to go near her or to even take her meals. Ha! Maybe she would starve to death.

  Then I recalled that I had thrown a whole case of emergency space rations in there for Crobe, enough for a year or two.

  The air port.

  My wits cleared. When the time came to kill her, it was all right. My cunning design had taken care of that. Nobody could get out that air shaft. But poison-gas capsules could be dropped down it from outside the mountain.

  I felt easier.

  When I had killed Heller and no longer needed her for a bargaining pawn, a capsule or two could be dropped down and that would be the final breath of the Countess Krak.

  Only then did I permit myself to feel I had done well.

  The way was wide open now.

  All I had to do was kill Heller.

  And all my problems would be solved.

  I went to sleep congratulating myself on how clever I had been.

  I dreamed I was at a banquet, attended by a thousand Lords. It was the banquet o
f my inauguration as the Chief of the Apparatus, loyal servant of the redoubtable Lombar Hisst who now controlled all Voltar.

  PART SIXTY-ONE

  Chapter 2

  The following morning I woke up and had a bright idea. I didn’t have to go near the cell to keep an eye on the Countess Krak. All I had to do was get Raht to ship me the activator-receiver for her bugs.

  No sooner thought of than done. I picked up the two-way-response radio off the bedside table and called Raht.

  “For hells’ sakes, Officer Gris,” he said, “don’t you ever think of anybody but yourself? It’s one o’clock in the morning here.”

  “Time means nothing when duty calls,” I said. “Get down to the Empire State Building and ship me the woman’s activator-receiver.”

  “Why? Isn’t she in New York?”

  “We won’t be needing them anymore,” I said. “So step lively and get them out by International Spurt Express to me. I don’t want them lying around. Possible Code break.”

  He groaned. He clicked off.

  I spent a happy day. I idled around. I checked up on Black Jowl. He was just glooming away in his cell. He didn’t see me. I didn’t go near Krak. It was enough to know she was in there. I issued strict instructions: Nobody was to lift that cloth.

  What I was looking forward to was watching Heller’s arrival back in New York. His viewer was still blank. But when he arrived and got Krak’s note, he might make calls about the plane and he would find it had crashed. It would crush him.

  I would order Raht to kill him. Crushed like that, Heller would be an easy target.

  With him dead, I could wipe out Chryster, Ochokeechokee and the Empire State Building. Rockecenter would be jubilant. Then I could release Black Jowl and tell him to get lost. I would then kill the Countess Krak.

  I would put Faht Bey in his place with the information that I would shortly be his supreme chief. I would threaten his life if he didn’t keep the opium and heroin and amphetamines coming. And then I would go home. How proud Lombar would be of me!

  Heller’s viewer stayed blank.

  I had dinner.

  The viewer was still blank. Heller was overdue in New York. Maybe that fool Raht had made a mistake and shipped me the wrong unit.

  I called him on the radio. “My viewer is blank!” I said angrily. “Can’t you ever do anything right? You shipped me the wrong unit!”

  “I shipped you the one with K on it. It went out on International Spurt at 3:00 AM. You should have it tomorrow. His is still on the antenna.”

  “Then you turned his 831 Relayer off. My unit here is as blank as a piece of clear glass!”

  “If his relayer is off, you can’t get a picture?”

  “That’s right. So it’s off. Now get down there and check it!”

  I tossed the radio aside. Oh, when I was Apparatus Chief, I’d get rid of an awful lot of riffraff!

  An hour later he called back. “The 831 Relayer is on. If he’s in New York you ought to be getting a picture.”

  My screen was blank. A riffle of unease went through me. Where was Heller?

  Then I remembered something. “You told me you had him bugged.”

  “I do. But it’s just a locational bug, not an audio and visio bug.”

  “Well, (bleep) you to hells, if you’ve got a bug on him, why are you denying me the information about where he is?”

  “My bug receiver must be busted.”

  I groaned. Oh, Gods, why was I served by such riffraff? “How do you know it’s busted, you idiot?” I said. “Have you tried to repair it by fiddling with it and banging it? Turning its switches on and off?” Cripes, I had to think of everything!

  “I know it must be busted because when I looked at it a few minutes ago it said he was over the North Pole. Before that it said he was in Chicago.”

  “That’s impossible!” I snapped. “Now listen carefully and do what you’re told for once. Go to his condo or down to his offices at the Empire State and hobnob with or bribe some of his staff and find out where Heller is! My life may depend on it. Get going!”

  I found, when he clicked off, that I had begun to sweat. It would be like Heller to take it into his head to simply come kill me to pass the time.

  Two awful hours went by. Then suddenly the radio went live.

  “Hey,” said Raht, “all hells have erupted around his office. I didn’t even have to bribe anybody. The staff is standing around in the halls crying and wringing their hands. The airline called the condo and the butler, Balmor, phoned Epstein. You told me you wouldn’t hurt the woman. She’s dead!”

  I was thinking coolly. “How?” I said.

  “Flight 931 out of Rome for Istanbul crashed with everybody lost. It’s in the papers. What did you do?”

  “How could a plane crash possibly have anything to do with me? I don’t build these flimsy primitive deathtraps they use. How would I know it would crash?”

  “Are you sure you didn’t blow it up or something?”

  “What nonsense!” I said. “These jets fall out of the sky all over the place. It practically rains planes.”

  “Well, all right,” he said.

  “Now, listen. It’s not our job to worry about what happened to one of their flying coffins. You’ve GOT to find the man. I have orders for you.”

  “What now?” he said.

  “You are to kill him.”

  “WHAT? A Royal officer? You must be out of your mind! That carries a death penalty just to threaten it, much less do it!”

  “You have no slightest choice,” I said. “Kill him or I’ll kill you, if I have to blow up all of New York City to do it!”

  “Gods!” said Raht, impressed.

  “You’ll look silly praying to them with your head blown off,” I said. “So find that man! Where is he on your location bug now?”

  “I told you it was broken.”

  “Look at it, (bleep) you!”

  “See? It’s totally out of whack. It says he is over Scotland.”

  My blood congealed. Chicago, North Pole, Scotland . . . Heller was airborne. He might be en route to Turkey!

  I swallowed my heart. Then I made myself be calm enough to think and speak. “You get next to some of those people. You find out what flight he’s on. We may have to waylay him. Report to me every hour.”

  I clicked off. Water was actually dripping from my palms.

  After an agonized hour, my radio went live again.

  “I got it,” said Raht. “His butler, Balmor, phoned him in Chicago before he phoned the office. The Royal officer chartered a jet at the Chicago O’Hare International Airport and took off immediately for Italy to begin salvage operations in the Palagruza Islands in the Adriatic Sea. The crash was spotted just off one. He is going to try to recover his girl’s body.”

  My hair stood on end. What else might he discover?

  “Listen,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Grab a plane at once. Get to that area. And at your first chance, kill him!”

  Raht clicked off.

  Only Heller’s death stood between me and total victory.

  I did not have much time. Black Jowl might be missed. At best I only had another five days.

  I prayed that my prayers be heard.

  Heller had to die!

  PART SIXTY-ONE

  Chapter 3

  I went to bed. I tried to sleep. It was no use. Something was nagging at me. Then I had it!

  I grabbed the two-way-response radio. I buzzed it.

  “What’s up now?” Raht’s voice, irritated.

  “When you go to the salvage area, take the Royal officer’s activator-receiver and 831 Relayer with you.”

  “Do you know where I am?”

  “How in all the hells could I know where you are? I can’t work this funny locator rig on top of this radio and you know it.”

  “You want me to turn around and go back?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then you’ll have to talk to the pilot of thi
s commercial jet. I’m halfway over the Atlantic on my way to Italy.”