by John Norman
"There is no safety above," said Misk.
"Nor any here," I said.
"True," said Misk.
In the distance we could hear dull explosions and the crash of falling rock.
"The entire Nest is being destroyed," said Misk.
I saw tears in the eyes of humans.
"Is there nothing that can be done?" I demanded.
"Nothing," said Misk.
Vika looked up at me. "Where will you choose to die, Cabot?" she asked.
I saw that the last ship was preparing to take flight through the hole torn above in the ceiling of the complex. I would have liked to have seen once more the surface of the world, the blue sky, the green fields beyond the black Sardar, but rather I said, "I choose to remain here with Misk, who is my friend."
"Very well," said Vika, putting her head against my shoulder. "I will also remain."
"Something you have said does not translate," said Misk, his antennae dipping towards me.
I looked up into the huge, peering golden eyes of Misk, the left one lined with a whitish seam where Sarm's bladed projection had once torn it open in the battle in the Chamber of the Mother.
I could not even tell him how I felt about him, for his language did not contain the expression I needed.
"I said," I told him, "I choose to remain here with you—and I said something like 'There is Nest Trust between us.'"
"I see," said Misk, and touched me lightly with his antennae.
With my right hand I gently pressed the sensory appendage which rested on my left shoulder.
Then together we watched the ship float swiftly upward like a small white star and disappear in the blue distance beyond.
Now Kusk, Al-Ka and Ba-Ta, and their women, slowly walked across the rubble to join us.
We stood now on the uneven, shifting stones of the floor. To one side, high in the domed wall some energy bulbs burst, emitting a cascade of sparks that looped downwards burning themselves out before striking the floor. Some more tons of stone fell from the hole torn in the ceiling, raining down on the buildings beneath, breaking through the roofs, shattering to the streets. Drifting dust obscured the complex and I drew the folds of Vika's robes more about her face that she might be better protected. Misk's body was coated with dust and I felt it in my hair and eyes and throat.
I smiled to myself, for Misk seemed now to busy himself with his cleaning hooks. His world might be crumbling about him but he would not forgo his grooming. I supposed the dust that clung to his thorax and abdomen, that adhered to the sensory hairs on his appendages might be distressing to him, more so perhaps than the fear that he might be totally crushed by one of the great blocks of stone that occasionally fell clattering near us.
"It is unfortunate," said Al-Ka to me, "that the alternative power plant is not near completion."
Misk stopped grooming, and Kusk, too, peered down at Al-Ka.
"What alternative power plant?" I asked.
"The plant of the Muls," said Al-Ka, "which we have been readying for five hundred years, preparing for the revolt against Priest-Kings."
"Yes," said Ba-Ta, "built by Mul engineers trained by Priest-Kings, constructed of parts stolen over centuries and hidden in an abandoned portion of the Old Nest."
"I did not know of this," said Misk.
"Priest-Kings often underestimate Muls," said Al-Ka.
"I am proud of my sons," said Kusk.
"We are not engineers," said Al-Ka.
"No," said Kusk, "but you are humans."
"As far as that goes," said Ba-Ta, "no more than a few Muls knew of the plant. We ourselves did not find out about it until some technicians joined our forces in the Nest War."
"Where are these technicians now!" I demanded.
"Working," said Al-Ka.
I seized him by the shoulders. "Is there a chance the plant can become operational?"
"No," said Al-Ka.
"Then why are they working?" asked Misk.
"It is human," said Ba-Ta.
"Foolish," observed Misk.
"But human," said Ba-Ta.
"Yes, foolish," said Misk, his antennae curling a bit, but then he touched Ba-Ta gently on the shoulders to show him that he meant no harm.
"What is needed?" I demanded.
"I am not an engineer," said Al-Ka, "I do not know." He looked at me. "But it has to do with Ur Force."
"That secret," said Ba-Ta, "has been well guarded by Priest-Kings."
Misk lifted his antennae meditatively. "There is the Ur disrupter I constructed in the War," came from his translator. He and Kusk touched antennae quickly and held them locked for a moment. Then Misk and Kusk separated antennae. "The components in the disrupter might be realigned," he said, "but there is little likelihood that the power loop could be satisfactorily closed."
"Why not?" I asked.
"For one thing," said Misk, "the plant built by Muls is probably fundamentally ineffective to begin with; for another if it is constructed of parts stolen over centuries it would be probably impossible to achieve satisfactory component integration with the elements in the Ur disrupter."
"Yes," said Kusk, and his antennae dipped disconsolately, "the probabilities are not at all in our favor."
A huge boulder fell from the roof and bounded, almost like a giant rubber ball, past our group. Vika screamed and I pressed her more tightly against me. More than anything I began to be exasperated with Misk and Kusk.
"Is there any chance at all?" I demanded of Misk.
"Perhaps," said Misk, "for I have not seen the plant they have built."
"But in all probability," pointed out Kusk, "there is really no chance."
"An extremely small but yet finite possibility," speculated Misk, grooming one foreleg.
"I think so," acknowledged Kusk.
I seized Misk, stopping him from that infernal grooming. "If there is any chance at all," I cried, "you must try!"
Misk peered down at me and his antennae seemed to lift with surprise. "I am a Priest-King," he said. "The probability is not such that a Priest-King, who is a rational creature, would act upon it."
"You must act!" I cried.
Another boulder fell clattering down a hundred yards from us and bounded past.
"I wish to die with dignity," said Misk, gently pulling his foreleg away and recommencing his grooming. "It is not becoming to a Priest-King to scramble about like a human—still scratching here and there when there is no likelihood of success."
"If not for your own sake," I said, "then for the sake of humans—in the Nest and outside of it—who have no hope but you."
Misk stopped grooming and looked down. "Do you wish this thing, Tarl Cabot?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
And Kusk looked down at Al-Ka and Ba-Ta. "Do you, too, wish this thing?" he asked.
"Yes," said Al-Ka and Ba-Ta.
At that moment, through the drifting rock dust, I saw the heavy, domed body of one of the Golden Beetles, perhaps fifty yards away.
Almost simultaneously both Misk and Kusk lifted their antennae and shuddered.
"We are fortunate," came from Kusk's translator.
"Yes," said Misk, "now it will not be necessary to seek one of the Golden Beetles."
"You must not yield to the Golden Beetle!" I cried.
I could now see the antennae of both Misk and Kusk turning towards the Beetle, and I could see the Beetle stop, and the mane hairs begin to lift. Suddenly, through the rock dust, I could scent that strange narcotic odor.
I drew my sword, but gently Misk seized my wrist, not permitting me to rush upon the Beetle and slay it. "No," said Misk.
The Beetle drew closer, and I could see the mane hairs waving now like the fronds of some marine plant caught in the currents of its underwater world.
"You must resist the Golden Beetle," I said to Misk.
"I am going to die," said Misk, "do not begrudge me this pleasure."
Kusk took a step toward the Beetle.
> "You must resist the Golden Beetle to the end!" I cried.
"This is the end," came from Misk's translator. "And I have tried. And I am tired now. Forgive me, Tarl Cabot."
"Is this how our father chooses to die?" asked Al-Ka of Kusk.
"You do not understand, my children," said Kusk, "what the Golden Beetle means to a Priest-King."
"I think I understand," I cried, "but you must resist!"
"Would you have us die working at a hopeless task," asked Misk, "die like fools deprived of the final Pleasures of the Golden Beetle?"
"Yes!" I cried.
"It is not the way of Priest-Kings," said Misk.
"Let it be the way of Priest-Kings!" I cried.
Misk seemed to straighten himself, his antennae waved about wildly, every fiber of his body seemed to shiver.
He stood shuddering in the drifting rock dust, amid the crashings of distant rocks. He surveyed the humans gathered about him, the heavy golden hemisphere of the approaching Beetle.
"Drive it away," came from Misk's translator.
With a cry of joy I rushed upon the Beetle and Vika and Al-Ka and Ba-Ta and their women joined me and together, kicking and pushing, avoiding the tubular jaws, hurling rocks, we forced away the globe of the Golden Beetle.
We returned to Misk and Kusk who stood together, their antennae touching.
"Take us to the plant of the Muls," said Misk.
"I will show you," cried Al-Ka.
Misk turned again to me. "I wish you well, Tarl Cabot, human," he said.
"Wait," I said, "I will go with you."
"You can do nothing to help," he said. Misk's antennae inclined toward me. "Go to the surface," said Misk. "Stand in the wind and see the sky and sun once more."
I lifted my hands and Misk touched the palms gently with his antennae.
"I wish you well, Misk, Priest-King," I said.
Misk turned and hurried off, followed by Kusk and the others.
Vika and I were left alone in the crumbling complex. Over our heads it seemed suddenly that, splitting from the hole already there, the entire roof suddenly shattered apart and seemed for a moment to hang there.
I seized Vika, sweeping her into my arms, and fled from the chamber.
With uncanny speed it seemed we almost floated to a tunnel entrance and I looked behind us and saw the ceiling descending with incredible softness, almost like a snowfall of stones.
I sensed the difference in the gravitation of the planet. I wondered how long it would take before it broke apart and scattered in a belt of dust across the solar system, only to bend inward at last and spiral like a falling bird into the gases of the burning sun.
Vika had fainted in my arms.
I rushed onwards through the tunnels, having no clear idea of what to do or where to go.
Then I found myself in the first Nest Complex, where first I had laid eyes on the Nest of Priest-Kings.
Moving as though in a dream, my foot touching the ground only perhaps once in thirty or forty yards, I climbed the circling ramp upward toward the elevator.
But I found only the dark open shaft.
The door had been broken away and there was rubble in the shaft. There were no hanging cables in the shaft and I could see the shattered roof of the elevator some half a hundred feet below.
It seemed I was trapped in the Nest, but then I noted, perhaps fifty yards away, a similar door, though smaller.
With one slow, strange bound I was at the door and threw the switch which was placed at the side of the door.
It opened and I leaped inside and pushed the highest disk on a line of disks mounted inside.
The door closed and the contrivance swiftly sped upward.
When the door opened I found myself once more in the Hall of Priest-Kings, though the great dome above it was now broken and portions of it had fallen to the floor of the hall.
I had found the elevator which had originally been used by Parp, whom I had learned was a physician of Treve, and who had been my host in my first hour in the domain of Priest-Kings. Parp, I recalled, with Kusk, had refused to implant me, and had formed a portion of the underground which had resisted Sarm. When he had first spoken to me I knew now he would have been under the control of Priest-Kings, that his control net would have been activated and his words and actions dictated, at least substantially, from the Scanning Room below, but now the Scanning Room, like most of the Nest, was demolished, and even if it had not been, there were none who would now care to activate his net. Parp would now be his own master.
Vika still lay unconscious in my arms and I had folded her robes about her in order to protect her face and eyes and throat from the rock dust below.
I walked before the throne of Priest-Kings.
"Greetings, Cabot," said a voice.
I looked up and saw Parp, puffing on his pipe, sitting calmly on the throne.
"You must not stay here," I said to him, uneasily looking up at the remnants of the dome.
"There is nowhere to go," said Parp, puffing contentedly on the pipe. He leaned back. A puff of smoke emerged from the pipe but instead of drifting up seemed instead almost immediately to pop apart. "I would have liked to enjoy a last, proper smoke," said Parp. He looked down at me kindly and in a step or two seemed to float down the steps and stood beside me. He lifted aside the fold of Vika's robes which I had drawn about her face.
"She is very beautiful," said Parp, "much like her mother."
"Yes," I said.
"I wished that I could have known her better," said Parp. He smiled at me. "But then I was an unworthy father for such a girl."
"You are a very good and brave man," I said.
"I am small and ugly and weak," he said, "and fit to be despised by such a daughter."
"I think now," I said, "she would not despise you."
He smiled and replaced the fold of the garment over her face.
"Do not tell her that I saw her," he said. "Let her forget Parp, the fool."
In a bound, almost like a small balloon, he floated up, and twisting about, reseated himself in the throne. He pounded on the arms once and the movement almost thrust him up off the throne.
"Why have you returned here?" I asked.
"To sit once more upon the throne of Priest-Kings," said Parp, chuckling.
"But why?" I asked.
"Perhaps vanity," said Parp. "Perhaps memory." Then he chuckled again and his eyes, twinkling, looked down at me. "But I also like to think," he said, "it may be because this is the most comfortable chair in the entire Sardar."
I laughed.
I looked up at him. "You are from Earth, are you not?" I asked.
"Long, long ago," he said. "I never did get used to that business of sitting on the floor." He chuckled again. "My knees were too stiff."
"You were English," I said.
"Yes," he said, smiling.
"Brought here on one of the Voyages of Acquisition?"
"Of course," he said.
Parp regarded his pipe with annoyance. It had gone out. He began to pinch some tobacco from the pouch he wore at his belt.
"How long ago?" I asked.
He began to try to stuff the tobacco into the bowl of the pipe. Given the gravitational alteration, this was no easy task. "Do you know of these things?" asked Parp, without looking up.
"I know of the Stabilization Serums," I said.
Parp glanced up from the pipe, holding his thumb over the bowl to prevent the tobacco from floating out of it, and smiled. "Three centuries," he said, and then returned his attention to the pipe.
He was trying to thrust more tobacco into it but was having difficulty because the tiny brown particles tended to lie loosely about a quarter of an inch above the bowl. At last he wadded enough in for the pressure to hold it tight and, using the silver lighter, sucked a stream of flame into the bowl.
"Where did you get tobacco and a pipe?" I asked, for I knew of none such on Gor.
"As you might imagine," said
Parp, "I acquired the habit originally on Earth and, since I have returned to Earth several times as an Agent of Priest-Kings, I have had the opportunity to indulge it. On the other hand, in the last few years, I have grown my own tobacco below in the Nest under lamps."
The floor buckled under my feet and I changed my position. The throne tilted and then fell back into place again.
Parp seemed more concerned with his pipe, which seemed again in danger of going out, than he did with the world that was crumbling about him.
At last he seemed to get the pipe under control.
"Did you know," he asked, "that Vika was the female Mul who drove away the Golden Beetles when Sarm sent them against the forces of Misk?"
"No," I said, "I did not know."
"A fine, brave girl," said Parp.
"I know," I said. "She is truly a great and beautiful woman."
It seemed to please Parp that I had said this.
"Yes," he said, "I believe she is." And he added, rather sadly I thought, "And such was her mother."
Vika stirred in my arms.
"Quick," said Parp, who seemed suddenly afraid, "take her from the chamber before she regains consciousness. She must not see me!"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because," said Parp, "she despises me and I could not endure her contempt."
"I think not," I said.
"Go," he begged, "go!"
"Show me the way," I said.
Hurriedly Parp knocked the ashes and sparks from his pipe against the arm of the throne. The ashes and unused tobacco seemed to hang in the air like smoke and then drift apart. Parp thrust the pipe in his pouch. He seemed to float down to the floor and, touching one sandaled foot to the ground only every twenty yards or so, began to leave the chamber in slow dreamlike bounds. "Follow me," he called after him.
Vika in my arms I followed the bounding body of Parp, whose robes seemed to lift and flutter softly about him as he almost floated down the tunnel before me.
Soon we had reached a steel portal and Parp threw back a switch and it rolled upward.
Outside I saw the two snow larls turn to face the portal. They were unchained.
Parp's eyes widened in horror. "I thought they would be gone," he said. "Earlier I freed them from the inside in order that they might not die chained."
He threw the switch again and the portal began to roll down but one of the larls with a wild roar threw himself towards it and got half his body and one long, raking clawed paw under it. We leaped back as the clawed paw swept towards us. The portal struck the animal's back and, frightened, it reared up, forcing the portal up, twisting it in the frame. The larl backed away but the portal, in spite of Parp's efforts, now refused to close.
