Mission Earth Volume 10: The Doomed Planet

by L. Ron Hubbard

  This tank at the foot of the steps, he thought he recognized. A mighty brute, it may have been the one Hisst had used to flee from the Battle of Camp Kill.

  After a quick word with Snelz, a platoon was disposed outside to cover the entrance. Then, followed by the bulk of the company and Snelz, Heller sped up the broad, winding stair.

  They came to the wide, curving corridor which led to the entrance chamber. There were no troops in it.

  Snelz posted men in the doorways of the rooms which opened from it.

  Heller, by himself, went ahead.

  A screaming voice was coming from the antechamber. Lombar’s!

  “You’re traitors, traitors, traitors! Every one of you! You are all against me! You sold me out!”

  “No, no! Please Gods, we didn’t!” cried another voice.

  “One of you helped Heller to move the mountain! I know it was HIM! Don’t deny it! Another one of you just ordered Palace City evacuated! And now THIS, now THIS, now THIS!” There came a roar of pure animal rage.

  Shrieks of terror.

  “Lombar!” came a bellow. “Put down that gun! Listen to reason!”

  There came a shattering roar of a blastrifle on full automatic!

  Panic-driven boot beats rushed from the antechamber. Red-uniformed Apparatus generals, spread out, came around the curve in the corridor where Heller stood.

  The insane roar of the blastrifle from the antechamber was mixed with the even more berserk rantings of Lombar Hisst.

  A general was caught in the back by a shot. He fell at Heller’s feet. His arms reached out convulsively and he caught Heller’s legs. “Save me! Save me! Save me!” he screamed.

  The other generals rushed by.

  Then here came Lombar, holding the roaring blastrifle like a flaming spear.

  Heller leaped back. The arms of the general on the floor tripped him. He fell against the wall.

  Lombar rushed past, rifle blazing.

  Heller tried to get to his own handgun, then realized how useless the discharged weapon was.

  Snelz’s troops had pulled back into rooms, diving out of the path of fire.

  Lombar reached the main entrance.

  Several generals were still on the stairs racing down. Lombar cut them to bits. They fell like thrown balls of red, streaking the steps with blood.

  Snelz’s platoon outside, taken by surprise, sought to bring weapons to bear.

  Lombar swept a path of fire over their heads like a flaming scythe. They ducked.

  Down the steps raced Lombar, shooting as he went. He was taking five at a time, moving too fast to be hit.

  At the bottom he gave the dead driver a yank and threw him to the pavement.

  Hisst leaped into the tank and slammed the turret shut. Snelz’s platoon fired but their shots glanced off the armor.

  Heller was coming down the steps. He halted for an instant to try to get the sidearm off a dead general. Then he realized it would have no effect on the tank and threw the bloody weapon aside.

  Lombar was getting the tank started.

  Heller leaped down the last ten steps. He grabbed at the snout of a protruding weapon, intending to haul himself up, to get at the turret.

  The weapon went off. Lombar had fired it from within. It jarred out of Heller’s hands.

  The tank swept forward with a roar and Heller fell to the pavement.

  The flying monster rose. Its course was erratic. It smashed into a statue at the bottom of a balustrade. Then it curved sideways, beginning to rise.

  Heller raced across a strip of lawn. An artillery piece was there, one of the heaviest.

  He leaped onto the pointer’s ledge. He began to spin wheels.

  The tank was flying low. It went across the park. It clipped the central statue there and the sculpture overturned.

  Lombar was trying to go between two palaces and get cover.

  Heller was getting the cannon centered, eye pressed to the sight. He was bringing the tank into the middle of the circle.

  Ahead of Lombar lay the pools where Madison had first found Teenie swimming. They lay there now, no lights or moving water, but they were full and lapping under the hot desert wind.

  Heller fired!

  The heavy blast hit the tank below the right rear rollers and up into its belly.

  FIRE BLOOMED!

  The tank did a complete forward somersault, leaving a blazing loop in the air.

  It hit the center of the lowest pool with a whistling sizzle and splash!

  Heller was off the cannon and running toward it.

  Then suddenly the turret opened.

  A blastrifle came into view.

  Heller was totally in the open. There was no cover. He was unarmed.

  PART EIGHTY-SIX

  Chapter 1

  The tank was nearly submerged in the water.

  The blastrifle leveled from the open turret.

  The yellow eyes of Lombar Hisst sighted down it.

  Jettero Heller pulled up. He was almost to the edge of the pool. There was no cover.

  He could hear the din of battle somewhere in the sky.

  He thought if he could only get his hands on Hisst he might end this. But in that split instant it looked like Hisst was going to end him instead.

  Heller had a handgun. It was almost totally discharged. He doubted it would even cause a bruise at this distance.

  Hisst fired.

  Heller had jinked to the left.

  The shot missed.

  But Heller had drawn as he jumped.

  He didn’t fire at Hisst.

  Heller fired at the water between him and the tank.

  An enormous spray shot up!

  Under the cover of it, Heller dived into the pool, totally submerged.

  Hisst’s blastgun churned the upper surface, boiling spray and froth.

  Swimming underwater, Heller reached the bottom of the tank.

  Looking up, he could get a dim and wavy outline of the turret. Hisst seemed to be having a fit. He was firing all around the tank, hoping to hit the man he knew must be there somewhere.

  The concussions were hurting Heller’s ears and he protected them with his cupped hands.

  He was running out of air.

  There was a pocket of it trapped under a tread fender. He stuck his nose up into it and got a breath.

  Suddenly he was aware that the shooting above him had stopped. He waited a moment. He could hear a rushing sound. He decided to chance it and surface.

  Ready to spring up over the submerged hulk and get to the turret, Heller put his face out.

  Nothing happened.

  He rose up further.

  Hisst was gone!

  The man had leaped off the tank and was almost to the far edge of the pool, swimming!

  Heller instantly struck out in pursuit.

  Lombar got out on the edge. He saw Heller swimming swiftly toward him. Hisst unslung the blastrifle and pointed down. He pulled the trigger.

  It was wet and shorted out. It did not fire.

  Hisst threw it away. He looked around wildly. He had recognized Heller. His rage went into panic and then deeper into insanity.

  He saw a flight of steps near to hand. He raced up them.

  He was grabbed suddenly from either side.

  Two men in silver livery threatened him with electric battle-axes.

  Lombar stumbled to his knees. He looked up and stared into the face of a teenaged girl—Teenie, Hostage Queen of Flisten.

  “You are my prisoner,” she said. And to her men, “Take him inside and knock him out if he so much as twitches!”

  PART EIGHTY-SIX

  Chapter 2

  Heller pulled up at the bottom of the steps and stood there dripping water.

  “That man is my prisoner,” he said.

  Teenie gazed out toward the pool. Snelz’s men, held back until now by that raving blastrifle, were spreading out to cover the Flisten palace.

  On Teenie’s right and left, additio
nal guards were drawn up, electric halberds ready.

  Teenie looked down at the soaking-wet Heller. She gave her ponytail a twitch. She said, in English, such was the stress of the moment, “Clear off, buster!”

  Heller stared. The figure in the golden robe seemed awfully immature, young. Not only had she spoken English but she was chewing bubble gum. “Are you from Earth?” he said in the same language she had used.

  “Sure, bub,” said Teenie, secure in the protection of her guards, “and I’m also the Hostage Queen of Flisten. Now that I’ve got Hisst under wraps inside, I’m the only operating royalty around here right now, so it’s ‘Your Majesty’ to you.”

  Heller suddenly wanted to laugh at this New York accent. He didn’t kneel.

  This annoyed Teenie. “Listen, mac, I don’t know how come you’re talking Ivy League, but you better bruise that knee, kid. My guards don’t cotton to impoliteness.”

  “My name is Jettero Heller. I’m the representative of Prince Mortiiy on the ground—”

  A screeching whistle interrupted him. He looked up to his left. A warship, in flames, was falling. It slammed with a heavy shock wave into a nearby open park.

  Snelz was at his elbow. When the echoes of the concussion ceased to rattle around, Snelz said, “That’s an Apparatus ship that just crashed. The rebels are giving them a pasting!”

  “Those aren’t the rebels,” said Teenie in Voltarian. “If you’d been watching Homeview, you would have known that when somebody pulled that mountain apart, exposing Palace City, the Fleet and Army declared for Mortiiy. They’re blowing the Apparatus out of the sky!”

  Snelz and Heller looked up. High above, the remnants of the Apparatus Earth invasion force were being blasted to bits and falling, ship after ship, into the waiting desert sands.

  A Fleet destroyer, markings clear, dived down half a mile away, pounding some holdout group of Apparatus on the south perimeter.

  “I guess the admirals came to their senses,” said Snelz. “We’re on the winning side! That news was what must have driven Hisst crazy and made him shoot his general staff!”

  “Listen,” said Heller, “before one of those destroyers mistakes us for Apparatus, tell your men to get naked to their waists so they look like rebels.”

  As Snelz gave the order, Heller began to remove his general’s uniform.

  “What the hell is this?” said Teenie in English. “Some kind of a god (bleeped) striptease? While I admit, mister, that you’re a very good-looking man, it won’t get you anyplace. Not with me! If you want Lombar Hisst, you’ve got to come to terms!”

  Heller had been wearing Fleet fatigues under his Apparatus outfit. He tossed the general’s uniform to one of Snelz’s men, who was collecting Apparatus clothes to bury them. Heller took a pillbox cap out of his pocket and put it on his head. He gave the chin strap a snap.

  “Now,” he said to Teenie, “we can talk about it. What might these terms be?”

  “Are you really a representative of Mortiiy?” said Teenie.

  “I’ll do until Mortiiy comes along,” said Heller.

  “Let me storm the place,” said Snelz. “She’s stalling.”

  “Storm away,” said Teenie, “and get your heads chopped off. The only way you’re going to get Lombar Hisst is swap.”

  “Horse-trading,” said Heller in English.

  “You said it,” said Teenie, in Voltarian, “only I got the better horse. Two for one.”

  “And who might these two be?” said Heller.

  “The first one is a guy named J. Walter Madison,” said Teenie. “The (bleepard) double-crossed me.”

  “MADISON?” said Heller. “Is he on Voltar?”

  “Yep,” said Snelz.

  “You said it,” said Teenie.

  “My Gods!” said Heller.

  “He’s really a two-timing son of a (bleepch),” said Teenie. “He wasn’t after Gris at all. The god (bleeped) judge just found Gris innocent. You’re Heller. Madison was really after YOU!”

  “Madison is one, you said two. Who’s the other?”

  Teenie bared her teeth. Her hands clenched. “The other one is the filthiest snake that ever lived. His name is Soltan Gris. Lord Turn says he is your prisoner. I WANT him!” And she snarled.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Heller. “If this J. Walter Madison and this Soltan Gris are turned over to you, you will give us Lombar Hisst.”

  “You got it through your head at last,” said Teenie. “And I want to point out that this territory I am standing on is the domain of the Hostage Queen of Flisten and happens to be inviolate. The only way you are going to get Lombar Hisst is swap!”

  PART EIGHTY-SIX

  Chapter 3

  Heller and Snelz put their heads together: “I think we should rush them,” said Snelz. “They only got electric battle-axes.”

  A savage burst of firing sounded in the direction of the east gate.

  “I think she’ll deal,” said Heller. “These New Yorkers just like to bargain.”

  “I ain’t a New Yorker!” said Teenie. “I’m from all over, including Kansas, Whiz Kid.”

  Heller knew a needling when he heard one: Madison’s lies had been all over Earth press—the stories about Kansas, Maizie Spread and Toots Switch. He turned a little red. “Young lady,” he said, “we can discuss Madison and Gris later. Right now, turn over Lombar Hisst. I can promise you I’d like to get my hands on J. Warbler Madman myself and I can assure you that when I do, when you see what happens to him, your satisfaction will be guaranteed.”

  “Not good enough,” said Teenie. “I am a very experienced person when it comes to justice: it’s made of banana peels. Hand me Gris and hand me Madison: you get Hisst. If you don’t, I’m liable to keep Hisst for a pet and feed him on peaches and cream.”

  “I promised Gris a trial,” said Heller.

  “He’s had one trial and what a miscarriage and abortion of injustice that was. I tell you what, I’ll give him a trial and guarantee absolutely to find him guilty. How’s that?”

  Heller and Snelz looked at each other.

  “I don’t even know where Madison is,” said Heller. “Do you?”

  “Nope,” said Snelz. “Let me storm the place and you can appoint me a full general of Fleet Marines.”

  Heller looked up at the teenager. Then he sat down on the step.

  Timyjo, of Snelz’s company, had found some blue cloth in a nearby palace. It was the rebel color and he was passing out strips of it and the men were tying it around their heads. Those who had finished lounged against their blastrifles and looked up at the tableau at the top of the steps. Time passed. Stalemate.

  A rebel scout came tearing across a park toward the group. He had spotted the naked torsos and blue headbands. He saw Heller and made a beeline for him.

  “Officer Heller! The Retribution has landed. Mortiiy is checking if it’s safe to come in. Where’s Hisst?”

  Heller stood up. He glanced at the girl at the top of the steps. The battle seemed to have died down in the sky, spatters of gunfire were only occasional far to the south.

  “Snelz,” said Heller. “You keep this place surrounded. Don’t let anybody in or out.”

  “Does that mean you are going to deal?” said Teenie.

  “Time will tell, Your Teenage Majesty,” said Heller. “Right now, you better keep Hisst as safe as a monkey in the Bronx Zoo.”

  Heller’s clothes were drying in the hot desert wind. He gave his powder-blue Fleet fatigue tunic a tug to straighten it. “I’ll go down to the gate and meet Prince Mortiiy.”

  “You better deal!” shouted Teenie.

  “Don’t get your bubble gum in an uproar,” Heller called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

  The fate of Hisst, Gris and Madison was left hanging in the air.

  PART EIGHTY-SIX