Sutton_Jean_Sutton_Jeff_-_Lord_Of_The_Stars

by Unknown

  “I won’t, Mr. Smith.”

  He said casually, “Your Miss Penn seems like a very nice person.”

  “She’s wonderful, Mr. Smith.”

  “Does she know about your being, ah, telepathic?”

  “She doesn’t mind.” The girl stared straight ahead.

  Samul had a horrible suspicion. “Is she telepathic?”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Smith.”

  “Ah.” He felt better.

  “You’re really interested in her, aren’t you, Mr. Smith?” She gazed sideways at him.

  “Nonsense,” he retorted gruffly.

  “But you are. I can tell.” Her young face wore a mischievous smile. He flushed. Was it that obvious? Obvious? What was he thinking of? He really wasn’t interested, not as the girl suggested. It would be nice to see her, of course. He felt the warmth of anticipation.

  “It’s in here,” Arla said suddenly. “You’re walking past it.”

  “Oh, the shop.” Samul turned and followed her inside.

  Over the ice cream, he asked, “How do you fog film?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered shyly.

  “You don’t?”

  “I knew you were going to take a picture. I saw it in your mind. I didn’t want you to.”

  “So you fogged the film but don’t know how, is that it?”

  “There’s a lot I don’t know,” she answered thoughtfully.

  “Like how you walk through a metal fence?”

  “Oh, that. I don’t really.” Her quick smile was that of a little girl. “Mr. Denton — he’s the gardener — just thinks I do.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Well, I have a key, and I don’t want him to see me.”

  “So he doesn’t see you, is that it?”

  “He thinks he doesn’t,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”

  “But it’s still a mental influence, like fogging film.”

  “I suppose.” She smiled again. “I really don’t understand it.”

  Samul relaxed, somehow glad that she didn’t walk through metal fences. That would have been too much. He felt better, too, that she didn’t fully understand the powers available to her mind. But she was just a child. He couldn’t expect her to reason like an adult.

  When they finished their ice cream, he leaned across the table and said, “Now tell me about the aliens — who and what they are.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “I really don’t know, Mr. Smith.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Only what I told you about Zandro…and those things called the Ikus. I mentioned them on the communicator.”

  He nodded. “Did you find out what they are?”

  “Just voices. Of course they’re more than that, but that’s all Danny knows. I talked with one of them.”

  “You did?” His head jerked up. “Do they speak our language?”

  She shook her head. “But Danny knows their language, or quite a bit of it. He told me how to call them, what to say. They put me through to Zandro. I guess he’s the main alien.”

  “He speaks our language?”

  “He learned it from Danny a long time ago.” She caught his puzzled look and explained, “He learned it from Danny’s memory cells — the things Danny heard and sensed even before his own conscious awareness.”

  “Is that possible?” he asked disbelievingly.

  “I believe it is. Danny says so.”

  “What did you say?”

  “To Zandro? Nothing. He shut me out.” She shivered. “He has a very powerful mind.”

  “Perhaps he was afraid to listen,” Samul mused. It struck him that he had misjudged the girl; she was far more comprehending than he had believed.

  She lifted her head suddenly. “Oh, yes, there’s another one.”

  “Another Iku?”

  “The Lord of the Stars.” She barely whispered the words. “From what Danny says, he’s even more important than Zandro. He sounds it, doesn’t he, Mr. Smith?”

  “The title’s quite impressive,” Samul acknowledged. “Is he on Wenda?”

  “I don’t believe Danny knows.” Her eyes grew troubled. “He said that all humans had to die.”

  “He said what?” He stared at her.

  “We had to die. Everyone. He said the Universe belonged to his race. Do you really think he meant it, Mr. Smith?”

  “Perhaps…”

  “But that’s not the most important thing. It’s not the reason I had to see you.”

  “Oh!” Samul studied her.

  “Danny’s in danger. I guess I told you that, but it’s worse now. Zandro’s trying to make him die.”

  “Make him die?” He felt a sudden alarm. “How can he do that if he’s just a voice?”

  “By mental power,” she explained gravely. “He’s trying to make him stop his heart.”

  “Why does he listen?” he exclaimed. It didn’t make sense.

  “Zandro comes when he’s asleep. I think he hypnotizes him.”

  “Can’t Danny run away, hide?”

  “He did,” she said urgently, “but he has to sleep. That’s when Zandro comes. The birds keep finding him.”

  “Birds?” He stared at her.

  “Metal birds, that’s what he calls them. They have beady red eyes, and their wings don’t move. They keep following him. He was hiding in a cave, but

  they found him. Now he’s running again and — oh, yes! — he saw Zandro.”

  “He did?” Samul was startled.

  “He lives in a pool, and he’s got tentacles.”

  Samul gulped. “You mean he’s a fish?”

  “Well, no, or yes. He doesn’t know. But that’s where he saw him — on the bottom. There was a gigantic eye staring up…”

  “Through the water?”

  She nodded solemnly. “It was glaring. Then he started coming out of the pool. He…it was monstrous — huge and black and slimy. Danny got frightened and ran. That’s when the metal birds started following him.”

  “Sounds weird,” Samul said. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow, wondering how much was the girl’s imagination. Perhaps she had stayed glued to the triscreen too long.

  “It is weird, Mr. Smith.”

  He gazed severely at her. “Fish don’t operate spaceships or conquer star systems,” he said pointedly.

  “How do you know?” she demanded. “There are a billion, billion, billion stars — billions of kinds of life. Do you believe it’s all like this?”

  Awestruck, Samul gazed at her. She was just a child, fourteen or fifteen at most, yet she had measured the Universe, at least in her young mind. She had contemplated the possibilities. It was fantastic, almost as fantastic as what she was saying. He nodded mutely.

  “If a fish can build an android, it can build a spaceship,” she declared.

  “I believe you’re right.”

  “And if it has a concept of the Universe, it’s smart, Mr. Smith.”

  “I’ll have to admit that,” he acceded.

  “Those things out there — Zandro, the Lord of the Stars, the Ikus — are dangerous, Mr. Smith. It scares me to think of them.” She looked solemnly at him. “That’s why you have to go there, get Danny before something happens.”

  “Go there?” he echoed.

  “I told him you were coming.”

  “You told him that?”

  “That’s why you have to go, Mr. Smith. He’s trying to hide, stay away from Zandro till you get there.”

  “But I can’t go,” he exclaimed.

  “Why not?” She looked calmly at him.

  “Well” — Samul grew flustered — “the Regent Administrator has put a prohibition against it. That’s Regulation CO1404B.”

  “Is he afraid?”

  He smiled weakly. “I believe he is.”

  “Can he act in opposition to the law?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that.” Her thoughtful gaze made him uneasy. “If t
he law empowers a person to do something, can he prohibit it?”

  Samul contemplated her, thinking the question a sharp one. Too sharp. What was she driving at? The question perturbed him. He saw her waiting expression and said, “I don’t believe so. Certain regulations were enacted to curb administrative power — safeguards against despotism, you might call them. No, he can’t override a law. Only the Supreme Board of Justice can do that and then only when the law has been challenged.”

  “Then his power isn’t absolute?”

  “It is for all practical purposes.” Samul smiled. Such a conversation with a child was quite amazing; but then she was an amazing child.

  “But you said…”

  “His power is absolute unless it conflicts with the law,” he interrupted. “I stated that.”

  “Yes, you did.” Her eyes searched him. “You still have to go, Mr. Smith.”

  “That’s out of the question.”

  “Oh!” The single word escaped her lips softly. She looked away, her thin face sad and plaintive.

  He said hastily, “But don’t worry, we can help him.”

  “How?” She fought to control her emotions.

  “Well, we can advise him.”

  “I’m doing that now, Mr. Smith.”

  “Yes, certainly, but I mean at a high military level.” Samul’s words tumbled out. “After all, we do have a Master of Defense, a Defense Council. And there’s the Senior Admiral of the Seventeenth Fleet…”

  He halted, abruptly realizing the futility of his argument. They were just words, empty of meaning. Good grief, he sounded exactly like Ghengin Kaan. What had he told Sol Houston only a few days before? “We have to send a cruiser to Wenda, find the boy. I feel it’s imperative.” And he’d counseled defiance of the Regent Administrator! Now he was groping, procrastinating, looking for the easy answer! He’d even quoted the regulations. He shuddered. What was the system doing to him? He became aware of the thin, taut face turned toward him.

  “I felt certain you’d help Danny,” she said. Her large eyes mirrored her disappointment.

  “But how?” he exploded helplessly.

  “Miss Penn thought you would find a way.”

  “Yoshi…Miss Penn thought that?” he exclaimed.

  She nodded. “She said you were resourceful.”

  “She said that?”

  “She said you were the kind of man who wouldn’t let the system beat you. She was certain of it. She has confidence in you, Mr. Smith.”

  “But I scarcely know her!”

  “She’s very discerning,” the girl said. Samul gazed at her, fascinated. Behind the youthful face he fancied he glimpsed unplumbed depths, a vastness of knowledge and understanding that certainly exceeded her few years. None of the child lay in those deep-blue eyes; none in the intelligent face. The too-large faded pink dress masked an urchin’s body, but that was all.

  “I’ll try,” he exclaimed hoarsely. He pulled himself together. “I’ll find away.”

  “Miss Penn said you would,” she murmured.

  “Of course I will.” Samul sat straighter.

  Her voice grew firm. “I would have to go with you.”

  “You?” He looked at her with astonishment.

  “You can’t talk with the Tommies,” she explained. “What have they to do with this?” he demanded. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being manipulated.

  “The regulations.”

  “What are you talking about?” He fought to control his exasperation. The girl was flitting from subject to subject, driving at something. He had the feeling of a net closing around him. Her go to Wenda? The idea was crazy.

  “Miss Penn was looking in the legal code,” she explained. “She found a regulation that provides the Overlord of Space — that’s Mr. Houston, isn’t it? — the power to deport undesirable aliens to the planet of their origin.”

  “Undesirable aliens?”

  “The Tommies. They are undesirable, aren’t they?”

  The deep-blue eyes regarded him steadily.

  11

  “DANNY?” The voice was a whisper in Danny’s mind. “Don’t run, Danny.”

  Danny threshed wildly in his sleep.

  “You must return to the meadow.”

  “No!” Abruptly he awakened, the scream on his lips, conscious of the terror in his mind.

  “You must return.”

  “No!” Shouting, he closed his mind. Zandro was evil! Conscious of his stiff, aching body, he rolled his eyes watchfully. The thicket into which he had crept the night before was heavy with dew. Morning light brushed the tops of the nearby trees.

  The metal birds! He remembered. He had escaped them, had been found, had escaped, had been found. Running, dodging, hiding — the days had been nightmares. Zandro’s birds! Visualizing their beady red eyes, he shivered.

  How long had he been running? How many times had the emerald sun risen and set? He couldn’t remember. He’d passed through forests, meadows, rocky hills. He had run, run, run; but the birds had always followed. Small shadows low in the sky, their wings motionless, haunted his trail. Were they watching him now? He looked cautiously around.

  A crackling in the distance brought a sudden alarm. He rose hurriedly, a strange odor assailing his nostrils. Pushing out of the thicket, he halted, aghast to see a dancing orange blanket covering the slope behind him. Plumes of black smoke swirled into the sky. The crackling came from there!

  Fire! He remembered lightning once striking the trees, setting the forest aflame. This was the same. The entire upper slope was ablaze. Other orange tongues, lower still, were roaming toward him. He gazed fearfully at them, then whirled and raced down the slope, heedless of the brush and sharp stones. He had to escape, get into the open!

  He twisted frantically through the thick foliage, conscious that the crackling had grown louder. It seemed on all sides of him. Heat — he could feel it! The realization brought a surge of fear that caused him to dash recklessly ahead. Far in the distance, where the valley widened, he glimpsed a vast sea of rock devoid of trees. Swerving, he raced toward it.

  A flickering tongue of flame lanced through the foliage off to one side, then the entire slope exploded into a seething, crackling orange sheet. A blast of searing heat enveloped him. Other flames leaped into the path ahead of him. Dodging around them, he raced ahead.

  Another tongue of flame — another fire! Dully he wondered how such a thing could be. There had been no storm, no lightning. But the world was on fire; the world was burning. Rocks couldn’t burn! The thought clawed at his mind. He had to reach the rocks!

  The jumbled, barren area opened before him, far larger than he’d first supposed. Greenish-black slabs rose eerily from a stone meadow, jutting upward at crazy angles. Ledges, spires, fields of jagged rock — it was a stone jungle such as he’d never dreamed. His breath whistling harshly in his throat, he hung his bow from his shoulder without breaking his stride.

  With the fire at his heels, he reached the first outcrop and scrambled up the rough slope. Slivers of rock tore the skin from his fingers. Reaching the top, he leaped a crevice, then picked his way through the craggy escarpments that thrust upward on every side.

  As the heat grew less intense, he slowed his pace to catch his breath. Gradually the burning in his chest and nostrils subsided. At a safe distance, he clambered atop a rocky pinnacle to look back. Lying under a pall of black smoke, the entire valley behind him was a bowl of flame. Only the forests flanking either side of the stone jungle remained unburned.

  How had it happened? He gazed uneasily at the orange inferno, a

  suspicion nibbling at his mind. Somehow the fire was related to his flight. To Zandro! How could that be? He saw no sign of the metal birds. Had the flames destroyed them? Heartening as he found the speculation, he realized that it simply wasn’t true. They would show up soon enough; they always did. The knowledge was chilling.

  He gazed at the unbelievably bleak panorama ahead. Here and there h
e saw a stunted tree, a patch of brush, but mostly it was rock. Rock and a smoky sky through which the sun was but a pale disk. A vast, quiet world, absolutely without sound or motion, it held an air of terrifying unreality. He’d passed through barren areas before but this was different. A desert! He regarded it with awe. A great stone desert.

  Aware of a gnawing hunger, he contemplated the scene in despair. Usually in the morning and again at evening he’d managed to snatch a few wild berries or the edible forest plants which for so long had formed a staple part of his diet. But he wouldn’t find them out there; he’d be fortunate to find water.

  He inspected the flanking forests at his left. If he hurried, he might find nourishment, escape again before the flames came. He glanced back; the fire was moving fast. Scrambling down the rocky pinnacle, he broke into a run.

  “Danny?” The voice came into his mind, but he instantly shut it out, wondering why he hadn’t felt the sense of presence. Perhaps he felt it only when Zandro was near. Did Zandro know where he was? The birds, he thought. The birds told him. He had to outrace the birds.

  From time to time he shot worried looks at the flame line; each glance showed it closer. Finding his path blocked by an escarpment too steep to climb, he was forced to detour. Again he entered a narrow ravine, racing along its twisting floor for long agonizing moments before bursting into the open. When finally he did, the forest was very near; so were the flames.

  Gazing at them in dismay, he caught movement in the corner of his eye and jerked his head around. His first impression was of a black blob hovering just above the tree line. The instant surmise that it was a metal bird was quickly dispelled; it was far too large for that.

  He studied it fearfully. Squat, ovoid, with curious antennae that jutted out from one side, it gave him the impression that it was feeling its way through the sky. An odd snout protruded from between the antennae. Artificial like the birds! Zandro had sent it! He saw a silver thread shoot out from the snout, reaching downward to the trees; an instant later the entire area below it burst into flames.

  He gaped at it, appalled. Whatever it was, it was firing the forests! His terror grew. How could anyone fight a power such as Zandro’s? Perhaps Zandro was right; perhaps the Universe did belong to his race. How mighty must be the Lord of the Stars! He trembled.