The Empire of Isher

by A. E. van Vogt

  No. doubt about it He could now make his escape. Hedrock climbed out of the lifeboat, and went down to the main control room at the ground level. He felt undecided. Within a few hours of escaping from the Imperial palace, he had captured the interstellar ship. He had succeeded, accordingly, where the forces of the Empress and of the Weapon Makers had failed. It was time now to be more careful, and that brought up a number of problems, all interrelated. How could he turn the big ship over to the Weapon Makers without endangering himself, and without starting a battle between the navies of the government and of the Weapon Makers? The decisive factor was that the latter wouldn’t receive his note, giving this address, until noon the following day.

  Under normal circumstances, the interval would probably pass without incident. But unfortunately a stranger had been observed going aboard. When Zeydel reported that to Innelda, she’d become suspicious. She might give Greer a little while to get in touch with her agents, and explain the event. But she wouldn’t wait very long. Perhaps already she had made several attempts to contact Greer. Hedrock seated himself in the control chair, watched the main ’stat for activity. And considered his situation.

  After five and three quarter minutes there was a click, a call light began to blink, and a siren gave off a low musical hum. The activity continued for two minutes, and then ceased. Hedrock waited. At the end of thirteen minutes, there was a click again, and the process repeated. So that was the pattern. Zeydel must have been instructed to “call Greer every fifteen minutes.” Presumably, if he failed to answer, further action would be taken.

  Hedrock went down to the engine room and set to work refitting a motor. It seemed unlikely that he would have time to put together the two engines that would be needed to enable the big ship to fly, but it was worth making the attempt. At first he went up to the control room every hour to see if the call was still coming through. But finally he rigged up a ’stat in the engine room, and connected it to the one in the control, room. From then on, he could follow the calls without ceasing work.

  What Innelda would do when she ran out of patience was a matter of conjecture. But Hedrock could imagine her having already mobilized the fleet, with the hope that, if the interstellar ship tried to get away, the mighty guns of the, battleships would knock it out of the sky before it could gather speed.

  It was that possibility that made it dangerous for him to risk an escape in the lifeboat. If it were brought down, that would end man’s hope of reaching the stars. His plan must be to hold off the Empress’ forces until a number of possibilities existed for success. And then, and not till then, make an all out effort to gain an unqualified victory for himself and the Shops. He couldn’t expect to do anything until twelve noon tomorrow.

  At six o’clock, eighteen hours before the Headline, the ’stat failed to call out. Fifteen minutes later, it was again silent. Hedrock hurried to the galley, had a bite to eat, and carried sandwiches and coffee to Greer.

  He removed one of the force lines, so that Greer could move one arm freely enough to feed himself. At six-twenty-nine Hedrock settled himself at the control board. Once more, the ’stat failed to show any.

  activity . Either a further step would now be taken, or else Innelda was giving up for the night. It was a choice Hedrock dared not leave to chance. He switched on his end of the telestat, the voice connection only—the vision plate remained dark—and dialed the nearest police station. He intended to pretend that he knew nothing about what was going on, and it was interesting therefore that they let him dial the whole number. It was particularly interesting because he wanted them to believe that he was making an unsuspecting call to the police.

  The familiar click was his first knowledge that he had made a connection. Before the person at the other end could say anything, Hedrock whispered loudly, “Is that the police department? I’m a prisoner aboard what seems to be a spaceship, and I want to be rescued.”

  There was a long pause, and then a man said in a low voice, “What address are you at?”

  Hedrock gave it, and went on succinctly to explain that he had been hired to repair some atomic motors, but was now forcibly being detained by a man named Rel Greer. His account was interrupted, “Where’s Greer now?”

  “He’s lying down in his cabin upstairs.”

  “Just a moment,” said the man.

  There was a pause, and the unmistakable voice of the Empress Innelda said, “What is your name?”

  “Daniel Neelan,” said Hedrock. He added urgently, “But please hurry. Greer may come down at any minute. I don’t want to be caught here.”

  “Why don’t you just open the doors and walk out?” Hedrock had his answer for that, also. He explained that Greer had removed from the control board the devices for opening and shutting the doors.

  “He has them up in his room,” he finished.

  “I see.” There was a momentary silence. He could imagine her swift mind visualizing the situation and its possibilities.‘ She must have been in the process of making up her mind, for she said almost immediately,

  “Mr. Neelan, your call to the police station has been switched to the offices of the government secret service. The reason is that quite unwittingly you have walked in upon a situation in which the government is interested.” She added quickly, “Do not be alarmed.” Hedrock decided to say nothing.

  Innelda continued swiftly, “Mr. Neelan, can you turn on the vision plate? It is important that you see the person to whom you are talking.”

  “I can turn it on, so that I could see you, but the section of the ’stat which would enable you to see me has been removed.”

  Her reply was acid toned. “We are familiar with Greer’s secretiveness about his personal appearance.”‘

  She broke off. “But quick now, I want you to have a look at me.”

  Hedrock switched on the plate, and watched while the image of the Empress of Isher grew on to it. He hesitated for a few moments, and then whispered, “Your Majesty!”

  “You recognize me?”

  “Yes, yes, but—”

  She cut him off. “Mr. Neelan, you occupy a unique position in the world of great affairs. Your government, your—Empress—require your loyal and faithful services.”

  Hedrock said, “Your Majesty, forgive me, but please hurry.”

  “I must make myself clear; you must understand. This afternoon, Dan Neelan, when I was informed that a strange young man—that is, yourself—had entered the Greer spaceship, I immediately ordered the execution of a Captain Hedrock, a Weapon Shop spy, whom I had previously tolerated in the palace.”

  She was mixing her times a little, it seemed to Hedrock, and also mixing truth with falsehood. But it was not up to him to correct her. What did interest him was her refusal to be hurried. He had an idea that she regarded this as an unexpected opportunity, but that she would not worry too much about what happened to Daniel Neelan. She must take it for granted that she could always go back to bargaining with Greer, and she was probably right. She went on, her face intent, her voice low but firm: “I tell you this to illustrate graphically the completeness and extent of the precautions I am prepared to take to insure that my will shall prevail. Consider Captain Hedrock’s fate as symbolical of what will befall anyone who dares to oppose me in this matter, or who bungles his part of the job. Here is what you must and will do. As of this moment you are a soldier in the government service. You will continue to pretend to repair the drive motors of the ship, and actually you will do enough work to convince Greer that you are fulfilling your obligations to him. But every spare moment that you have you will spend in taking apart those motors which can still operate. I am assured that it is possible to do this so skillfully that only an expert would notice that anything was wrong.

  “Now, please listen carefully. As soon as you have paralyzed the motive power of the ship, you must take the first opportunity to advise us. A single word will do. You can switch on your ’stat , and say,

  ‘Now’, ‘Ready’ o
r anything like that, and we will break in. We have eight one-hundred-million cycle guns in position. That is the plan. So it shall be. Within twenty-four hours of its successful conclusion, you will receive a tremendous reward for your assistance.”

  Her intense voice died away. Her tensed body relaxed. The flame died from her gaze. There was suddenly a warm and generous smile around her eyes and lips. She said in a quiet voice, “I hope, Dan Neelan, I have made myself clear.”

  There was no doubt of that. In spite of himself, in spite of his previous association with her, Hedrock was fascinated. He had made no mistake in believing that Imperial Innelda would play a foremost role in every crisis of this unsettled age.

  His mind began to consider the implications of what she had said; and he was shocked. The Empress’

  voice interrupted his thoughts:

  “—Zeydel, take over!”

  The face, head and shoulders of a man of about forty-five replaced her image on the plate. Zeydel had slate-colored eyes, a thin beak of a nose, and lips that formed a long slit across his face. There was a faint, grim smile on his raffish countenance, but his voice had a flat quality as he said:

  “You have heard our glorious ruler’s commands. This scoundrel Greer has deliberately set himself against the crown. He has an invention which endangers the State, and which must be completely withheld from the knowledge of the public.

  “Accordingly—and listen well—if it should prove necessary, or if the opportunity occurs, you are herewith given permission to kill Greer as an enemy of the State, in the name of her Imperial Majesty, Innelda. And now, before I break off, are there any questions?”

  They were taking his cooperation for granted. He realized that he was expected to make an answer.

  “No questions,” he whispered. “I am a loyal subject of her Majesty. I understand everything.”

  “Good. If we don’t hear from you by eleven tomorrow, we will attack anyway. May you prove worthy of the Empress’ trust.”

  There was a click. Hedrock broke the connection at his own end, and went down to the engine room again. He was disturbed at the time limitation that had been set. But it seemed to him that he ought to be able to delay the assault for an hour or even more.

  He took an anti-sleep pill, and set to work on the motors. Shortly after midnight he completed the balancing adjustments on one of, the drives, and so had half the power that was necessary to lift a ship as large as this one into the air.

  All too swiftly the hours went by. At ten after nine, Hedrock realized suddenly how much time had passed. He estimated, then, that he was a good two hours away from readying the second motor, and that, for that reason alone, some kind of delay was in order. He fed Greer, ate a hurried breakfast, and then worked on the motor until twenty minutes to eleven.

  At that time, perspiring from his efforts, his job still not completed, he switched on the ’stat connection and called Zeydel. The man’s face image appeared on the plate almost instantly; he was like a fox in his eagerness. His eyes flashed, his mouth trembled. “Yes?” he breathed.

  “No,” said Hedrock. He spoke swiftly, “Greer has just now gone up to the control room. He’s been with me all morning, so I’m only now in a position to start putting the motors out of commission. It’ll take till twelve-thirty, or one. Make it one to be absolutely sure. I—”

  Zeydel’s image faded from the screen, and that of the Empress Innelda replaced it. Her green eyes were narrowed the faintest bit, but her voice was calm as she said, “We accept the delay, but only till twelve.

  Get busy—and leave the ’stat on; not the vision plate, of course, just the voice— and have those drives paralyzed in time!”

  “I’ll try, your Majesty,” Hedrock whispered.

  He had gained another hour.

  He went back to his delicate task of adjusting an atomic motor back into working condition. He caught glimpses of his perspiring face in the gleaming metal of the tools he used. He felt himself tense, and no longer sure that the work he was doing would serve any useful purpose. In the sky above the great city, the government fleet would be out in force. And the chances of a last minute action by the Weapon Makers seemed more remote every passing instant. He pictured the noon delivery at the Meteor corporation . His letter to Peter Cadron, giving this address would be passed on swiftly—but Cadron might be in conference; he might have stepped through a transmitter to the other side of the earth; he might be at lunch. Besides, people didn’t open their mail as if their lives depended on it. Accordingly, the possibility was strong that it would be one, or even two o’clock before the Weapon Shop councilor read the letter from Robert Hedrock.

  It was eleven-thirty when the straining Hedrock realized that the second motor would not be ready in time. He continued working, because the sounds would convince the Empress that he was obeying instructions. But he realized it was time to make decisions. He’d have to get up to the lifeboat, of course.

  Whatever else went wrong or right, it represented his personal hope of escape. And since it also included the interstellar drive it was by itself as valuable as the larger ship. If it got away, then man would reach the stars. If it didn’t, if it was brought down, then—but there was no point in considering failure.

  But how could he get up to the lifeboat while the ’stat was on? If he should cease his noisy activity, she and Zeydel would immediately become suspicious. It would take him, he estimated, five minutes to climb to the lifeboat. Considering everything, that was a long time. So long, in fact, that a further effort to confuse Innelda was justified. Hedrock hesitated, and then approached the ’stat.

  “Your Majesty,” he said in a loud whisper.

  “Yes?”

  The reply was so prompt that he had a sudden vision of her sitting before a bank of telestats, keeping in touch with all the facets of this enterprise. He said quickly: “Your Majesty, it will be impossible for me to put all the motors out of commission by the time you have set me. There are seventeen drive engines down here, and I have only had time to work on nine of them. Do you mind if I make a suggestion?”

  “Go ahead.” Her tone was non-committal.

  “My idea is that I go upstairs and try to overpower Greer. I might possibly catch him by surprise.”

  “Yes.” There was an odd note in her voice. “Yes, you might.” She hesitated, then she continued firmly,

  “I may as will tell you, Neelan, that we are becoming suspicious of you.”

  “I don’t understand, your Majesty.”

  She seemed not to hear. “We have been trying since early yesterday afternoon to contact Greer. In the past he has always responded within an hour or so, and it is unusual, to say the least, that he has not even deigned to answer our attempts at communication. For all he knows we are prepared to meet his exorbitant terms and every one of his absurd conditions.”

  “I still don’t see—”

  “Let me put it like this,” she said coolly. “At this final hour we do not take chances. You have permission to go upstairs and overpower Greer. In fact, I order you to take the risks of a soldier and prevent him from successfully launching this ship out of its hangar. However, just in case our vague suspicions of you have any basis, I am now, this instant, ordering the attack. If you have any private plans of your own, abandon them now, and cooperate with us. Climb up, while the attack is in progress, and do anything that is necessary against Greer. But you’ll have to hurry.”

  Her voice grew stronger, and it was clear that she was giving orders into other ’stats, as she cried in a tone that was like a deep violin note, “All forces act. Break in!”

  Hedrock heard that command as he started for the stairway. He had to pause to open the radiation door, and then he was racing up the steps, still hopeful, still convinced that in spite of what had happened he could climb up above the ground level before anybody could stop him.

  The first shot struck then. It shook the ship. It was violent beyond his wildest preconception. It brought a
moment of horrible daze, and the mind-racking thought that he had forgotten concussion. He raced on up, up, the fear of defeat already in his heart. The second titanic shot sent him reeling back. But he recovered and climbed on.

  The third shot raged then. And blood spurted from his nose; a warm stream trickled out of his ears. The fourth shot—he was dimly aware that he was half-way to the control room—crumpled him in a heap. He half-rolled down an entire section of the stairway. And the fifth shot caught him as he was staggering erect.

  He knew his defeat now, a sick and deadly knowledge, but he kept moving his legs, and felt amazed when he reached the next level. The sixth intolerable explosion caught him there at the head of that long stairway, and sent him spinning down like a leaf engulfed in a storm. There was a door at the bottom; and he closed it with automatic intention. He stared dully as the great door lifted from its hinges, grazed him as it fell, and clanged to the floor. That was the seventh shot.

  Like an animal now, he retreated from pain, down the next line of steps, instinctively locking the lower door. He was standing there, infinitely weary, half leaning against the wall when the shouts of men roused his stunned mind. Voices, he thought then, inside the ship. He shook his head, unbelievingly. The voices came nearer; and then abruptly, the truth penetrated.

  They were in. It had only taken seven shots.

  A man shouted arrogantly from the other side of the door beside which he was standing, “Quick, break it down! Capture everybody aboard. That’s orders!”

  Eight

  HEDROCK BEGAN TO RETREAT, IT WAS A SLOW BUSINESS, because his mind wouldn’t gather around any one thought, and his reflexes were disorganized.

  His knees trembled as he kept going down the stairs. Down, down—the feeling came that he was climbing down into his grave. Not, he thought, that there was much farther to go now. The storerooms were past. Next would be the insulation room, then the repair room, then the engine room, then the drive chamber; and then—