That was that. An expansive Terl finished packaging the evidence and picto-recorder discs. Nobody would be interested anyway. He called Chirk and, with a playful paw on her rump, gave her the package to log and include in the dispatch box. She left and he glanced at the clock. He was overdue at the receiving machine. He went over to it and punched the coordinates of the pictures he wanted and they came whirring forth. He glanced at them casually: the drone firing schedule had to be confirmed. Yes, they were up there at the minesite, working with the cage....
Suddenly he sat forward and spread the pictures out.
They had a blade scraper operating down at the bottom of the cliff, turning over the rubble! Yes! A crane was raising an ore net...what was that in the basket?
He punched rapid keys on the machine and got a closer-view picture. He looked at it. He looked at the analysis squiggle at the side: he didn't have to analyze that; he knew it! It was gold.
They were recovering the lode out of the slide!
He stood up and examined the pictures more closely. What was this over at the side of the slide? Ah, the mangled remains of dead bodies. They'd lost a crew in the drift and with stupid sentimentality they were also digging them out. Why bother? They didn't have to ship them to home planet. Who cared about the corpses of animals? But wait, that meant they must have been up to the lode from behind.
And what were they doing with the cage? Still mining? Ah, pockets. They must have spotted another pocket on that vein up inside the mountain. The mining man in Terl told him that was a good possibility.
He looked at the gold in that ore net. Several hundred pounds of it? He crashed down in his chair and smiled. He began to chuckle.
That drone. He didn't have to fire it. It could wait till Day 93. Then for sure, but not now. No, by the crap nebula, not now!
How wonderful he felt. It had been ages since his head hadn't ached. He reached out a paw. The talons were steady as bedrock.
Chapter 4
Terl bounced up, pulsing with good cheer and energy. He grabbed some equipment and packages.
He still had a schedule, but it was different.
He sailed through the compound and into the office of the Planet Head.
Attendants had finished mopping up blood, but there were some stains left. The atmosphere was a bit sharp with cleaning fluids.
There sat Ker. The midget Psychlo looked a bit funny and depressed, lost in the immensity of the chair back of the vast square yardage of the desk.
“Good afternoon, Your Planetship," caroled Terl.
“Would you close the door, please?” said Ker faintly.
Terl took a probe out from under his arm and waved it about to make sure the place hadn't been bugged overnight. He was almost careless about it. He felt free!
"I’m not very popular,” said Ker. “People haven't been very polite to me so far. They wonder why Numph appointed me his deputy. I wonder myself. I’m an operations officer, not an administrator. And now all of a sudden I’m head of the planet.”
Terl, with a wonderful smile on his mouthbones, stepped closer. “Now what I’m going to tell you, Ker, I will deny emphatically I ever said, and there is no record and you'll forget this conversation.”
Ker was instantly alert. As a hardened criminal he knew better than to trust security chiefs.
Ker wriggled in the chair that was too big for him.
"Numph," said Terl, “didn't appoint you.”
Ker got very alert!
"I did," said Terl. “And as long as you do exactly what I tell you to do, without ever telling anyone I told you to do it, you will be fine. More than fine. Wonderful!”
“They'll just send in a new Planet Head on Day 92,” said Ker. “That's only a couple of months off. And he'll find out if I’ve done anything wrong...yes, and he may find out I’m not welcome in certain universes.”
“No, Ker. I don't think you'll be replaced. In fact, I am very, very certain you will not be. You're good for this post for years.”
Ker was wary and puzzled, but Terl seemed so confident that he listened cautiously.
Terl opened an envelope and fanned out the evidence he had gathered on Numph. Ker looked at it with slowly widening eyes.
"A hundred-million-credit-a-year swindle,” said Terl. “Of which Numph got half. You're not only here for years but you'll be rich enough when you do go home to buy your record clean and live in luxury.”
The Psychlo midget studied it. It was a little hard to grasp at first. Nipe, Numph's nephew, was crediting full pay to the employees of this planet but was in fact diverting half the pay and all the bonuses into private accounts for himself and Numph. He finally got that. All he had to do was to continue to deny bonuses and pay only half-pay.
“Why are you doing this?” said Ker. “Do you get a slice of this? Is that it?”
“Oh, no. I don't even want a quarter of a credit of it. It 's all yours. But, of course, I am really doing it because I am your friend. Haven't I always protected you?”
“You've got enough blackmail on me already to get me vaporized,” said Ker. “Why this, too?”
“Now, Ker," said Terl reprovingly. Then he decided it was time to level. “I want you to issue any order I tell you to, and to give me an order in six months to go home.”
“That's fine,” said Ker. “I can even issue orders not to countermand any orders you issue. But I still don't see that I won't be relieved in two months.”
Terl got down to business. “This is the code Numph used. Vehicles-in-use numbers. You won't be relieved. Nipe, his nephew, has influence. This is your first coded message to Nipe.” He put it on the desk, reminding himself to destroy his own handwritten version as soon as Ker had it encoded in his.
The message said: "Numph assassinated by escaped criminal. New situation created. He appointed me especially to carry on. Arrangements are as always. Deposit his share to my numbered account Galaxy Trust
Company. Condolences. Happy future association. Ker."
“I don't have a numbered account,” said Ker.
“You will, you will. I have all the papers for you and they will go out in the next transshipment. Foolproof.”
Ker looked back at the message. For the first time since the murders he began to smile. He sat back, seeming to get bigger. Suddenly he reached forward and slapped paws with Terl, symbolizing full-hearted agreement.
When Terl left him, Ker had swelled up so much he was practically filling the chair.
The only reservation Terl had, as he swept on to his next scheduled action, was that the dim-witted little midget might overreach himself with pomposity and make some clownish mistake. But he'd keep an eye on him. He'd keep a close eye on him. And who cared what happened to Ker once Terl was off this planet!
Any potential alliance Jonnie might have had with Ker was wholly and totally severed.
Chapter 5
Terl's next actions were carefully observed by keen Scottish eyes in the hills.
Late the previous afternoon Terl had gone tearing off in an executive tank at high speed. He had headed toward the ancient city to the north and entered it.
About noon he left the ruins there and came roaring down the remains of the overgrown highway to the Academy.
Terl got out of the tank, faceplate of the breathe-mask glinting in the sun, and strode in a free and relaxed fashion in the direction of the sentry who came forward.
There was very little at the Academy now; a housekeeping unit and three Scot sentries, usually light-duty invalids recovering from some mishap.
This one had his arm in splints and in a sling. “What can I do for you, sir?” said the sentry in acceptable Psychlo.
Terl looked around. No vehicles left here– no, there was the tail of a small passenger plane. Must have them all up at the mine. Probably even running out of them.
He looked at the sentry. Probably running out of personnel, too, if Terl knew anything about the dangers of mining. Well, no matter. There were
still some of them left alive.
He was wondering how to communicate with this animal. It had not registered on him that he had been addressed in Psychlo, simply because he didn't believe it. Animals were stupid.
Terl made gestures with his paws, indicating the height and beard of the head animal. He went through a pantomime of looking around, sweeping his arm toward himself and pointing at the spot beside him. Very difficult to get anything across to an animal.
“You probably mean Jonnie," said the sentry in Psychlo.
Terl nodded absently and wandered off. He'd probably have to wait until they flew up to the mine and brought him back, but that was quite all right.
He realized with an expansive good feeling that he now had lots of time; but more than that, he had freedom. He could go where he pleased and do what he pleased. He flexed his arms and wandered off. It might be an accursed planet but he had space now. It was as though invisible walls had been moved off him and miles away.
Some horses were grazing in a nearby park. Terl, to pass the time, practiced drawing his belt gun and firing. One by one he broke their legs. The resulting screaming of the agonized mounts was quite satisfactory. He was just as fast on the draw as ever, just as accurate. At two hundred yards, even! A black horse. Four draws, four fires. The horse was a skidding cloud of snow. What a caterwaul! Delicious.
Jonnie's voice behind him was a bit hard to hear in the racket but it didn't surprise Terl. He turned easily, mouthbones wreathed in a smile behind the faceplate.
“Want to try?” said Terl, pretending to hand over the gun.
Jonnie reached for it. Terl laughed an enormous laugh and put it back in his belt.
Jonnie had long since been waiting for Terl: from the moment Terl had started on this route from the city, he had known Terl would call here and he had flown down from the mine. It had seemed better not to let Terl know he was under observation and he had intended to delay a bit longer. But the screaming of the tortured horses had sickened him.
This was a much-changed Terl, very like his old self.
“Let's walk,” said Terl.
With a signal of the hand that Terl did not see, an angry Jonnie sent a Scot to slit the throats of the tortured, maimed horses and put them out of their misery. He steered Terl around the corner of a building to block his view of the action.
“Well, animal,” said Terl. “I see you are getting along just fine. I suppose you are trying for a second pocket.”
“Yes,” said Jonnie, controlling his anger, “we don't have quite enough gold yet.” That was an understatement. All the gold they had he was carrying in a bag right this minute.
“Fine, fine,” said Terl. “Need any equipment? Any supplies? Just say the word. Got a list with you?” Jonnie didn't. “No, well all you have to do is put a list in those bundles you keep leaving outside the cage and I’ll just have them run right over to you. Label it 'training supplies,' of course.”
“Fine,” said Jonnie.
“And if you want to talk to me, just flash a light through the glass at my quarters, three short flashes and I’ll come out and we can talk. Right?”
Jonnie said that was fine. There were some mining points that came up every now and then.
“Well, you just ask the right party,” said Terl, patting himself on the chest.
“What I don't know about mining has never been written up!” He laughed loudly.
Indeed this was a different Terl, thought Jonnie. Something had taken the pressure off him.
They were still out in a field and hidden from view by a knoll.
“Now to business,” said Terl. “On Day 89 you are to deliver my gold to this building in the old city up there.” He took a picture out of his pocket and showed it to Jonnie.
It said on the building: “United States Mint.” Jonnie started to take it but Terl pulled it back and showed him three other views: the street, the building from two sides.
“Day 89,” said Terl. “Two hours after sunset. Don't be seen. There's a room I’ve fixed up. Put it in there.”
Jonnie studied the views. Obviously Terl was not going to give him physical possession of them. There were some mounds he knew were old cars, and back of the building was a bigger mound, probably a truck. The doors of the place were sound and closed, but undoubtedly Terl had them unlocked.
“Have you got a flatbed ground truck?” asked Terl. “No? I’ll give you one.” He became impressive, commanding. “Now listen carefully: you and two other animals, no more, are to arrive at that exact time. You, personal. Tell the others you won't return until Day 93 and you'll bring them their pay. From Day 89 to 93 I have some other things for you to do. Understand? You personally and two animals, no more; the rest stay at the mine. Right?”
Jonnie said that was understood. They were standing well screened from any view behind some bushes. “Do you want to see a sample of what was hauled up?”
Yes, Terl certainly did. So Jonnie threw down a piece of heavy cloth and spilled wire gold onto it. It glowed softly in the sunlight.
Terl glanced up to be sure there was no overhead surveillance and then hunkered down. He fondled the nets of gold, some of the quartz still sticking to it. He spent some time at it and then stood up with a paw signal to put it away. Jonnie did so. Carefully. It was all they had.
Gazing at the bag, Terl let out a long sigh into his breathe-mask. “Beautiful,” he said. “Beautiful.”
He came out of it. “So on Day 89, I get a ton of gold, right?” He patted his pocket where the remote control lay. “And then on Day 93 you get your payoff!"
“Why the delay?” said Jonnie. “That's four days.”
“Oh, you've got a few things to do,” said Terl. “But never fear, animal. Come Day 93 you will be paid off. With interest. Compounded. I promise you very faithfully!” He laughed a huge guffaw into his mask, and Jonnie knew that Terl might be feeling high today but he was not entirely sane.
“You'll get everything that's coming to you, animal!” said Terl. “Let's walk back to the car.”
Never in his whole life had Terl felt so good. He recalled from the Scotland trip how eager they were for pay. This animal was going to get paid on Day 89! Then he could kill the females. With no fear of “psychic powers.” Delicious!
“Goodbye, animal,” he said, and drove off in great spirits.
Chapter 6
The next weeks were filled with tension. They were driving along the vein in hopes of a second pocket but as yet saw only white quartz, no gold. And without gold, nothing else was going to work.
The incident of the horse herd caused an uproar among them. They had trained those horses and they had become pets, left at the Academy where there was grazing, waiting for better days. The Scots were outraged, not only because of the loss but because of the sickening way it had been done. It brought home to all of them the nature of the enemy. Were all Psychlos like that? Yes, unfortunately. Lookouts had spotted other crippled animals around the compound. Didn't this put the girls in great danger? Yes, but one had to grit one's teeth and make sure their plan came off on schedule. By all that was holy, they mustn't muff a single thing! It was like playing a violent kind of chess with maniacs.
In other areas than the gold they were making progress.
Angus had made keys to everything in sight. It was very risky: heat-shielded bodies, silent feet in the snow of night, impressions in wax, dusted-over tracks. There was double jeopardy in this, for any discovery might not only cost the man his life but also alert the Psychlos that something was intended.
They had a good break in studying the old battle of a thousand years ago. The records were all in order now, all satellite overviews of it in sequence.
Jonnie and Doctor MacDermott had been going over them, looking for something that might help. There were numerous reports on the battle planes in that one-sided struggle.
An oddity was that a Psychlo battle plane had dive-bombed a tank in downtown Denver, but there was no tank deta
iled to downtown Denver according to U.S. Army statements on it. This attracted Jonnie's attention and led him to discover a second report on the same plane.
After bombing the tank that the report said was not there, the battle plane took off at high speed to the northwest and was sighted colliding with a snow-covered mountainside. It didn't explode. The spotting gave the exact position.
They looked it up on their maps. It was only about three hundred miles to the north of them.
Dunneldeen verified it with an overfly and metal detector, and the battle plane was still there, buried– all but a tip of its tail– in perpetual snows.
Using two flying ore platforms, they dug it out and airlifted it at night, to avoid detection, to the old base, and there in the heliport, subjected it to minute study.
The battle plane was unserviceable but it contained a host of information that could not be gained by a stealthy scout to the compound. The two Psychlo pilots had been killed on impact but their equipment, though decayed, was intact.
They went over every detail of the breathe-masks. They found there was a compartment that contained jet-driven backpacks as a form of parachute in case of necessary bailout. The security belts were no different from those used in the mine vehicles. The pilots also wore belt guns.
The controls of the plane were identical to the passenger mining ships. The only additions were the gun triggers and switches for a magnetic "grappler."
Examining the skids on which the plane stood, they found, indeed, that they were electromagnetic. The plane could be fixed with this to any metal surface and obviated the necessity of tying it down.
They also located the key slots and determined the type of keys.
They cleaned it up as best they could and used it for drilling their pilots.
The dead, mummified Psychlos were dissected by the parson to ascertain where their vital organs were located. Their hearts were in back of their belt buckles and their lungs were high in their shoulders. Their brains were very low in the back of the head and the rest of the head was bone. The parson then buried them with proper solemnity.
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