And then I, Yandro, was upon the officer.
And then I, Yandro, was upon the officer.
And then I, Yandro, was upon the officer.
Rohbar wore armor, on chest and head, while I fought without. He was in a cold rage, and I was only puzzled. Despite his lesser height, he had strangely long arms, that gave him an inch or two of reach beyond mine. But he was like a child before me. Indeed, I had leisure to observe myself, to wonder and puzzle over my own skill. I knew this weapon, that should be strange to me, as if it were born a part of me. Rohbar slashed and fenced; I parried easily, almost effortlessly. Avoiding an engagement, I clanged home against his armored flank. He moaned and swore, for even through that metal protection the heat of the blade must have hurt him. A moment later I sped a back-hand blow that knocked his helmet flying. He threw caution to the winds, and charged close. So sudden was his attack that I was caught almost unawares, and parried his blade within inches of my own chin. Our blades crossed, close to the guards, and we stood for a moment looking into each other's eyes at a bare foot's distance.
"You ignorant fool!" he spat at me. "To be made a tool, and then tobelieve—"
"Silence, you crawling informer!" bawled Gederr, and his deadly warning startled Rohbar, who sprang back from me. At the same time I advanced in my turn, touched his blade as if to engage, then cut under quickly and came solidly home where the neck and shoulders join.
The ray-mechanism in my weapon hummed and sang. A great red spark leaped from the point of contact, and Rohbar, stricken with heat and current alike, spun around like a top. His saber fell, and he went down beside it. There was life in him, for he struggled up on an elbow, turning an agonized face toward me.
"You haven't forgottenthatskill!" he cried, as if charging me with a crime. "Have you forgotten anything, then? Are you truly here without memory, or are you a traitor to—"
Gederr stepped close to him. He leveled a pistol-device, which threw rays. Rohbar suddenly lacked a head.
"That was the most merciful thing to do," said Gederr, holstering his weapon. "Send someone to drag the rest of him away." He faced me. "Yandro will please accept my admiring congratulations. What better proof of his great gifts and high destiny than this easy conquest of one who was judged skilful with the ray-saber." He strode toward the sound of faint music. "Come, you others. The entertainment has certainly not been spoiled."
I switched off my saber's power, and sheathed it. I had just killed a man, because I felt I had to, but I had no sense of triumph. I walked at the rear of the group, Doriza moving respectfully beside me.
"Doriza," I said, "he tried to tell me something. What?"
She shook her head. "I did not know Rohbar's mind."
"Yet he felt close to you. Wanted to fight to keep you from me. That's another thing. Why did you ask me if I wanted you?"
She smiled a little, with a certain shy humor. "Do not all things on Dondromogon belong to Yandro?"
I smiled back. "Doriza, perhaps I should act complimented. Yet it seems to me that Gederr and Elonie told you to make the offer. And I'm not sure—I can say this to my personal aide, can't I?—that I want any favors at their hands."
"Or at mine?" And she smiled again.
"Come off it, Doriza, you're not the best of flirts. Shall we take a drink together? It wasn't pleasant, killing that man, though you don't seem to mourn him."
Back in the great chamber, a sort of cloud of light was thrown in the center by several reflectors, and a sort of motion picture show was going on in the midst of it. I drank much, but the wine did not affect me greatly. Finally I felt tired, and said so. Gederr and Doriza escorted me to sumptuous apartments, where I quickly slept.
I do not know how many hours I lay asleep, but I woke refreshed. A breakfast of strange synthetic foods was waiting, on a lift that rode up in a slot of the wall. I ate with relish, took a brisk shower in a room behind my sleeping quarters, and resumed the costume of Yandro. Then came a buzz at the door, and a voice came through a speaker system: "Gederr requests that Yandro admit him."
I opened the door. Gederr was there, and Doriza behind him. I felt the gaze of her blue eyes, very soft and pretty. Gederr smiled respectfully.
"We have talked much about the duel, we of the Council. It is agreed that great Yandro's value is more than inspirational. If a single combat could be arranged, with some champion of the Newcomers, ill be their fate! Some boasting successor to Barak—"
"Barak," I repeated and wondered again why his name stuck so in my fogged mind. "I—I do not know how to say it, but I seek no quarrel with Barak. I do not fear him, or anyone else; but I do not wish to fight him."
"Barak is dead," snapped Gederr, quite ungraciously. "Yandro need have no apprehensions."
"I have said I fear nobody," I reminded, stiff and lofty.
Gederr bowed. "Who could doubt it? But to return to our talk of battle; at the South Pole an inner blaze of flame from within Dondromogon has kept opposing forces from contacting each other. Only here at the North Pole can we fight, and there has been a lull since—since the destruction of their champion, Barak. We have taken advantage to hollow out a great pocket underground. See, I will show you."
He went to a little televiso screen, and switched on the power, then dialed. I saw a great domed cavern, larger than the hemisphere room of last night's recreation period. Around its edges toiled men with ray-batons, shaping and enlarging.
"Elsewhere we have set up cunning defenses," explained Gederr. "Great force-fields, that interfere with their digging advance. But at one point we have purposely allowed their advance tunnels to come along easily. What you see here is behind that point. We fall back—"
"Fall back?" I repeated.
Gederr winked. "Their forces will follow, and fill this chamber. Beyond, we have entrenchments, sortie tunnels, weapons. And the floor of the chamber is mined—enough explosive even to wreck those power-shields. Their van, with its heavy equipment, will perish. We'll wipe out the others easily!"
"How many?" ventured Doriza.
"Who can say?" Gederr responded. "They are many, but most of them must work to sustain life and action in the section of Dondromogon they have seized. They have not the sunken cities, the synthesizing advances, the other time-seasoned devices for living that we have developed. Several hundred fighting men, not many more than ours, are all that can be sent against us."
"Are they brave?" I demanded.
"They have stubborn courage. They will rush after their comrades who fall. Perhaps if we capture a few, they will try a rescue. It will bring them to defeat—us to glory!"
His voice rose in exultation, and I chose to disagree.
"Not glory, Gederr. We can claim cunning for such a plan—yes. The pride of successful ambush and deceit—yes. But there is hardly any glory in trickery. Not as I see it, anyway."
He bowed again. "Great Yandro is bravest of the brave, but his thoughts are those of the First Comers, ages ago. He does not understand modern sophistication and practicality."
"I understand the practicality," I assured him, "but I don't glory in it. A fair combat, like the one last night with Rohbar, is like a game—grim, but like a game. Not so these strategems and pitfalls, which are only an unpleasant job to be done."
"The strategems need not affect Yandro," stated Gederr. "As for a simple single combat, I say that will be arranged. We broadcast, Yandro will remember, a warning and a challenge. The enemy has sent back a message that they are making ready a fighter to face anyone we can furnish."
"I see," said I. "Well, they speak my language." Both Doriza and Gederr started violently, and stared. "Probably they are simple of battle-viewpoint, like me. They'll blunder easily into your trap." I said those last two words to assure Gederr that I considered the whole deception his. "Now, when is all this to happen?"
"Perhaps within twenty hours. Perhaps within thirty."
"I feel like a puppet," I said. "Like the figurehead poor Rohbar called me. Perhaps I am, and perhaps it is as well, because I'm not in tune with your strategy. Understand me, I see its need and its practicability. That is all I see, though."
"Will Yandro walk forth?" asked Doriza. "There are troops waiting to be reviewed."
We went into a corridor, and entered one of the purring vehicles. It took us away—toward the fighting sector, I judged—and I dismounted in a great low stretch of subterranean cavern. This was lighted by great glowing bulbs hung to the ceiling, and men were drawn up in triple rows, armed and at attention. An officer was speaking to them, and toward one side stood the two unarmed men, under guard.
"Not yet, mighty Yandro," counselled Doriza beside me. "There is—a ceremony."
I could hear the officer speaking, though not clearly:
"In this moment, the eve of certain triumph over the enemy, two men see fit to circulate lies that calculate to dismay and destroy our plans. For them is only one fate, as judged by the Council. Attention to that fate!"
The two unarmed men were marched forward. I stared and scowled.
"I've seen them before," I said to Doriza. "The broad face of one—the figure of the other! Aren't they—"
"Yes!" Doriza said tonelessly.
The officer lifted his hand, with a disintegrator pistol in it. Pale green rays leaped. The two familiar figures gyrated, great parts of them vanished. They fell, and two men carried the bodies away.
"They were the two guards I first met!" I cried.
"Yes," she agreed softly. "Men who served under Rohbar, and who spoke rebelliously because Yandro killed him. They said that Yandro was not Yandro."
I smiled ruefully. "From the first they didn't seem to believe that. Nor did Rohbar. Nor did you, until Sporr identified me." I looked into her blue eyes, calculatingly. "It comes to mind, Doriza, that of all who doubted me you are the only one left alive."
"I, too, have thought that," she said, and her voice was quiet but not frightened. "Perhaps my turn is next."
I shook my head. "I seem to have power on Dondromogon, and I will not let you be destroyed without more warrant than I see now."
"Yandro is kind," she said.
"And Doriza is attractive," I rejoined. "Well, that unpleasant little formality seems to be at an end. Shall we inspect the troops?"
So saying, I moved forward. The officer in charge saluted and accompanied me on my inspection. The first two ranks of soldiers were men of various builds and feature, solemn-looking fellows for the most part. The first rank was headed by Klob, whom I had named for Rohbar's second last night. I was struck by the efficient air of their armor and equipment, as contrasted with their almost frail physiques. Again I thought, the stock of Dondromogon's natives must be running down.
The third rank was women.
They, too, wore armor, and bore weapons and tools, but I judged that they were more of a reserve than a first fighting force. More thoughts coursed through my head—if my earlier memories were departed, they left the more room for recent happenings and speeches. The Council had insisted that it was necessary to keep the population of Dondromogon small, for the sake of good living. Yet it seemed false reasoning if even women must be armed for battle. And the women, on the whole, were better specimens than the men. They were not large—none anywhere near as tall as Elonie or as compactly vigorous as Doriza—but seemed healthy and intelligent for the most part, and some were even handsome. One or two gave me an appraising, admiring look, such as soldiers should not give frankly to commanders.
I concluded the inspection, and returned to a position in front of the force. "At ease," I bade them. "I have words to say.
"Some, at least, must have seen me last night at the recreation hour. I spoke then as to the general population of Dondromogon. Now I speak to you specifically, as soldiers facing battle duty. Your commanders think that the time is at hand for a victorious termination of the war with those strangers you call the Newcomers."
I paused, and watched the expressions of my listeners. At the phrase, "termination of the war," some of them positively yearned. As Gederr had admitted, the commoners of Dondromogon wanted no more fighting. Perhaps my coming was indeed by providence, to bring peace. A better peace, I now decided, than they had ever known.
"When the war is over," I went on, "I propose to lead you still. Since I am accepted as a leader, I have a right to do that. It seems that your health and happiness will be bettered if, in some way, we achieve a new conquest—conquest of the outdoors. There may be storms, but there are also natural sunlight and fresh air. Yes, and perhaps fresh natural foods, that will strengthen you more than synthetics. Does that appeal to you?"
Plainly it did.
"As to the Newcomers, I do not know them. Yet it seems that, with the fighting ended, some friendly agreement may be reached. If they do not harm us, they may help us. That will follow victory. I feel thus assured. That is all I have to say." I faced the officer in charge. "Take over."
Doriza and I walked away, back to our vehicle. "Where now?" I asked.
For answer, she pointed to a white oblong on the inner wall of the vehicle. It was a little screen, on which figures appeared. "Gederr requests that we return to him. He feels that we may be too close to possible violent action, and he is not yet ready that Yandro risk himself."
We rolled back toward the main passages of the community, and eventually to an office, where Gederr was in close, muttered conversation with Sporr and Elonie. They greeted my entrance in various ways—Sporr with a senile smirk that he hoped was ingratiating, Elonie with a most inviting smile, Gederr with blank embarrassment. Gederr bowed and gestured toward an inner door. "Will Yandro pleasure me with a private conference?"
I bowed in turn, and followed him in.
"I heard Yandro's words to the troops, by speaker system," he began silkily. "Eloquent and inspiring—but Yandro must realize some salient facts."
"Such as?" I prompted.
"The talk of friendly agreement with the Newcomers—ill be their fate! They must be wiped clean off of Dondromogon."
"Perhaps," I agreed, and he smiled.
"I am honored that Yandro agrees so quickly—"
"I said, perhaps. Because I do not know the Newcomers as yet. It may be that they deserve death to the last man. But they may also deserve honorable treatment, alliance even."
He opened his mouth to speak again, but interruption came from outside. Sounds of struggle, and the cry of Doriza:
"Help me—help!"
I bounded to the door and tore it open, injuring the automatic lock. An officer stood in the outer office, and two soldiers had Doriza by the wrists. I made a lunge, knocked one of them spinning against a wall. "What is this?" I roared. "She is my aide."
"Her arrest has been commanded," spoke up Elonie in a sullen voice.
"Who commanded it? I countermand it!" I faced the roomful of protesting faces. "You call me Yandro, your leader from divine source. Let me say that nothing will happen to Doriza except by my will."
Gederr spoke from the inner doorway: "Great Yandro speaks in riddles. I had thought that he had no attachment for Doriza."
"Oh, you tried to make me a gift of her last night," I exploded, "but that has nothing to do with the present case. Doriza lives. She remains free. Understand?"
"Perhaps," mused Sporr, as if to himself. "There have been accidents...."
"Come," I said to Doriza. "To my quarters." I faced the others again. "Danger to her shall be answered by me. Is it understood?"
We rode silently in the vehicle, and came to the rooms set aside for me. Once inside, I made sure that speaking tubes and televiso were turned off. Then:
"Doriza! There are things I do not know. Tell them to me."
She hung her head. "They would have seen me dead, like the others, to shut my mouth."
"And I saved you. Now speak. All I seem to find familiar is the name of Barak."
She looked up again. "You remember the name?"
"Faintly. Vaguely. But what is happening just beyond my knowledge?"
She caught me by the forearm, her small, strong hands gripped like vises.
"I'll tell you! Tell you everything! Those devils of the Council have long exploited and drained Dondromogon—with lies about the First Comers, and the exclusive use of science! The Newcomers are to be trapped through you, the natives deluded through you! But you—you are to die when your usefulness is through!"
"They'd do that?" I demanded. "After they name me as Yandro, their legendary hero?"
"That's part of the great lie!" And Doriza was sobbing. "You aren't Yandro—you'reBarak of the Newcomers!"
V
I stared at her, astounded, shocked—and suddenly remembering things.
"Barak," I repeated foolishly. "Barak. Yes, IamBarak. I—how did I get here? Things are still so shadowy—but I'm beginning to recollect—"
"Try," she begged. "Try hard. It's the only way you can save yourself. Let me remind you; this world called Dondromogon was settled long ago by adventurers. For centuries their descendants built up a luxurious way of living. Messages filtered back to the old home planet—Earth, in the Solar System—"
"I remember that much," I told her. "Something about a group of chiefs growing fat on the labor of the community, and killing those who threatened to rival them?"
"Yes. Calling those deaths necessary for the good of the race, but preserving really the soft and easily ruled of the race. And an expedition was sent, to point out that Dondromogon really was a colony of Mother Earth. Gederr received the Newcomers with false welcome, and tried to have them assassinated. But reinforcements arrived, and the war goes on—"
Again I did not let her finish. "And Gederr has been deceiving his followers, by the line of talk I heard from him! That the Newcomers are not rescuers or dealers of justice, but invaders and destroyers! I remember that, too!"
"Do you remember yourself?" she demanded. "Barak, the wonder warrior, who met the enemy by twos and threes, and conquered them like flies, like puffs of wind? Barak, mighty in battle, who offered to fight the whole Council of Dondromogon single-handed? Who led one digging assault after another, and who fell only to a stupid trick?"
"I don't remember that last," I confessed. "It is in my mind that I was somewhat rash, and had skill and luck enough to live in spite of my rashness, through several combats."
"No time for modesty!" she chided me, and smiled despite the desperation of our plight. "You were a natural engine of warfare, Barak. And once you pursued your retreating adversaries far—too far—until it was Gederr himself who squirted anaesthetic gas upon you and felled you, senseless. Then they gathered around you, like carrion feeders, that whole Council, to see how they could profit best. And Gederr and Elonie, with Sporr's help, made the decision."
Her eyes held mine earnestly. "As you began to revive, with your wits still unguarded and baffled, Sporr and Elonie hypnotized you. They both know how to do that—"
"I fought off Elonie's hypnotism last night," I remembered.
"Because your knowledge of its danger remained in your subconscious. After that, you were placed outside—naked, without memory or knowledge. And a speaking device brought what would sound like a cosmic voice of destiny. After that, all was prepared to draw you into their plot as a tool."
I groaned. It had been as simple and raw as all that. "But the legend of Yandro?" I asked.
She waved it aside. "Someone named Yandro did exist, in the old days when Dondromogon was not Council-ridden. When he died, it was suggested that he would return again in time of need. Many a time did Gederr inspire some better-than-ordinary fighting man to face you, Barak, by telling him that the soul of Yandro had wakened in him. But when you fell into their hands and they decided to use you, they twisted the legend to suit your coming—even with a picture and your own thumb print to help convince you." She sighed. "Very few had seen your capture. Only Rohbar and the two guards you saw die would recognize you. Those three men, and myself, were in the farce."
"You!" I said, and gazed at her. That lost former life was creeping back, like a dream becoming plain and fusing into reality.
"You, Doriza! I—remember you—"
"You should," she murmured, pink-cheeked. "We used to say kind things to each other. With the Newcomers—remember?"
"You were one of us—a year ago! A technician in the synthetics department! But you vanished—and now you're here! Why?"
"I—I—oh, don't ask me that!"
I clutched her elbow, so fiercely that she whimpered. "Did you turn traitor? Answer me, Doriza!"
"You hurt me—don't—Barak, before you call me a traitor, answer this. Are you wholly for destruction of this people of Dondromogon? Haven't you changed?"
"Why—why—" And I paused. "I want to crush the Council, but the people—"
"Barak, I want to help them, too! The people—and you, Barak!" She looked at me beseechingly. "Can't you trust me?"
My heart flopped over and over, like a falling leaf, but I could not steel myself against her. "You were sweet once, Doriza, though you went away from me." As if by long practice, my arm encircled her.
"Believe me, I'm not a traitor," she whispered against my shoulder. "I want to save you—and others—and myself—"
I shook my head. "They want to kill you. They shan't. Let's defend ourselves."
For answer, she pointed to the door. A quiet humming sounded. I saw that a panel bulged and vibrated.
"Disintegrator," she whispered in my ear.
I thrust her into a corner and moved close to the door-jamb. A moment later the rayed panel fell away in flakes, and a man stepped through, the officer who had tried to arrest Doriza.
I clutched the wrist of the hand that held his disintegrator pistol, and almost tore his head off with an uppercut. He went down, and Doriza caught up his weapon as it fell. There was a spatter of sparks as someone fired through the hole with electro-automatic pellets, but already Doriza was using the ray to knock a lock from a door beyond.
"One side," I heard Gederr growl from the corridor. "I have a disintegrator, too. I'll open a hole too big for him to defend!"
But we had hurried through the door Doriza opened. Beyond was a vehicle, the same that had carried us earlier in the day. "In," she said, took the controls.
We rumbled away, not daring to speed and thus attract too much attention. Doriza drove us toward the point where conflict was being centered, and at a deserted stretch of the tunnelway braked us to a halt.
"We must know what they're doing about us," she said, and began to tune the televiso apparatus.
Figures leaped into view on the screen. I stared. Members of the Council—I recognized them—were marshalled against a wall, as if for a firing squad. And a firing squad faced them. Someone lifted a hand as a signal. The line of soldiers lifted their electro-automatics. I saw the play of sparks, heard the whip and thud of pellets. A form fell, another, another.
"They're rebelling!" I cried. "Overthrowing the Council! Somehow," and my heart sang wildly, "they know the truth!"
But Doriza put her hand on mine, and it trembled. "No, Barak. Watch."
One of the riddled forms floundered and tried to rise. Elonie, no longer lovely, but an agonized and gory victim. Someone stepped forward and cooly shot her through the head. It was Gederr.
He faced forward. They brought broadcasting equipment to him, and he suddenly grew huge on the screen.
"Attention," he bawled, "all true people of Dondromogon! We do not hesitate to kill traitors, even the highest of rank! Those false folk who made up the Council—they have died!"
He paused, glared, and swallowed. "I, Gederr, have discovered their plot! They foisted off upon us a man of the Newcomers as Yandro—caused us to accept him as a hero, when he was only the tool of their plan to betray and sell us!"
A cheer came from somewhere, and he went on.
"They are dead! I remain to lead and protect you! And my command is, find the false spy we accepted as Yandro! Search for him, find him and kill him!"
Doriza and I looked at each other. "Where now?" she asked.
"Toward the battle zones," I replied. She closed a circuit and steered us away.
The main corridor was almost deserted—apparently non-combatants had been cleared out in anticipation of the battle. Again the speaker began to yammer, Gederr speaking again:
"All defenses on alert! Watch for this man, falsely called Yandro—very tall, strongly made, dark, young, scar on chin. He wears a red cloak. With him is a woman of medium height, young, light brown hair, blue eyes, more robust than common—"
"Not flattering, are they?" Doriza said, and smiled.
Up ahead, two guards gestured and bawled. One pressed a wall-button, and a folding barrier crept across our way. "Vehicles out of running," said a guard as we slowed up.
"We're on the trail of those spies!" I yelled from the dark interior. "Get that barrier out of our way!"
They hesitated, and Doriza threw in the speed-ahead lever. We smashed through and away. Cries rang in our wake, and slugs struck the rear of the vehicle. Two burned clear through the metal. I opened a panel to kick them out, and they scorched my foot, clear through the stout shoe sole.
"We must abandon this car, it's marked." Doriza was cutting speed. "Let's jump, here in the shadows."
I jumped through the open panel, and managed to stay on my feet, catching and helping Doriza as she jumped after me. The car hummed onward, and smashed loudly into the wall beyond. Guards ran into view from a doorway, chattering loudly.
Every back was toward us. We stole forward, and into the guardroom they had abandoned. I saw dials and mechanism of both televiso and speaker system. A couple of twists and pulls, and I had them out of commission.
"Slovenly discipline," I growled. "They should have left at least one man in charge."
Dropping the telltale red cloak Doriza had given me—how long ago? Yesterday?—I caught up instead a blue military cape, the property of some officer. There was also an ornate helmet, which I jammed on my head. "Stoop," Doriza counseled. "You're taller than any man on Dondromogon. Now, maybe you'll get away with—whatever you're getting away with."
Emerging, I strode toward the wreck. A man saw my cape and helmet of authority. "Attention!" he called, and they stiffened respectfully.
"How close is the point of contact with the enemy?" I demanded with official brusqueness.
One pointed the way. "Not far, sir. We're the last message-relay station. Everything's in order, and—"
"Thanks," I said, and beckoned Doriza. We walked past. I wondered what I could have done if these men had paused to think I might be the culprit for whom Gederr was clamoring.
Up ahead was a cross-tunnel, and beyond that a fork. We heard men talking and moving in the distance. Doriza pointed to an inscribed door.
"The way to the works below. I've seen it on the televiso. The mined floor of the main chamber has a second cavern below."
I scowled. "As I remember, Gederr said he had blocked all advance tunnels of the Newcomers, except at one spot. What kind of explosives will he use?"
"Glare-rays," said Doriza. "You wouldn't know, Barak, the Newcomers haven't any such. It's a special vibration-speed that sets atoms at a pitch ready to fly violently apart. Anything it involves can be exploded at the first touch of fire."
"Anything?" I repeated. "Weapons, men, earth? Doriza, can you operate such a ray?"
"I think I can."
"Then come," and I pushed open the panel.
The elevator cage was waiting, and its operation not hard to study out. Quickly we sped down and stepped forth into another great chamber, bright and echoing. A sentry confronted us.
"Your pass?" he demanded.
I chose to bluster it out. "What kind of idling goes on here?" I snapped at him. "I'm from the Council, to see if the report is true—that you haven't made all ready for the ambush."
"But we have," he protested.
"You give me arguments, you insolent upstart? Where's your commander?" I turned to face an officer that hurried up. "This sentry needs to be disciplined, taught respect for his superiors," I scolded. "What have you to say, sir, about the laxity and slowness of work here?"
"But we're ready and more than ready," the officer assured me. "Look, sir," and he pointed. "This whole cavern is dug out to completion, the overhead roof thinned for the explosion. See the play of glares upon it."
I looked, and nodded as if in sour agreement. The earth floor was a maze of cables and coils, and here and there, strategically placed, were little wheeled stands with mechanisms atop. From each of these beat upward a cone of glaring golden light against the rough ceiling. It blinded me to look at them.
"The glares," Doriza murmured.
I gazed at the men on duty. "Is nobody armed? What if the Newcomers get in here?"
The officer shook his head. "You know that weapons would be our own destruction. Electro-automatics, disintegrators, ray-sabers—they all give off flame. And a touch of flame in any one of these glare-fields would explode the whole chamber, and the solid soil around it, into atoms."
I glanced toward the far end. "Up yonder I see no glares."
"Of course not. Beyond and above is the point that coincides with the narrow approach left for the Newcomers." The officer studied me narrowly. "If you are from the Council, why are you ignorant of all these things?"
It would be a difficult question to answer plausibly, but I was spared the task. Someone hurried from a little televiso shack and saluted the officer.
"Orders, sir. Important. We're to withdraw immediately. The Newcomers are advancing, and the forces above will take over operation."
"Of course," the officer said, and turned from me to shout commands. Men began to hurry away past us, toward the elevator, eager to quit the post of danger.
"Come, Doriza," I said softly, and she followed me along a wall. "Here's one of those explosion mechanisms. If we can bring it between us—"
She did something to turn it off, and we trundled it along on its wheels. I pointed to the spot above which the entry-point was said to be, and toward it we went, unchallenged and unnoticed. We reached the earthy far wall, and it was steep, but with the point of my ray-saber I dug pits for hands and toes. Up I scrambled to the ceiling. There I paused, hanging like a bat.
"Disintegrator," I called down to her.
"Dare we?"
"We must dare!"
She tossed me the disintegrator pistol. I turned it on and fate favored me once again. No explosion occurred. I tunnelled upward, upward, and climbed up the slanting chimney-like tunnel I made. Moments later, I broke into open air above.
I was in a necklike passage. Lying flat, I looked each way. To one hand was a great cavern, the ambush-space, in which Dondromogon's warriors were cautiously ranging themselves. Opposite was a wide tunnel, empty as yet—a work of the Newcomers, into which this passage had been invitingly opened by the defenders. I was not observed as, rising to my knees, I tore my cape into strips and knotted them into a line.
I lowered it. "Fasten on the glare-ray," I told Doriza, and when she had done so I drew it up. After it climbed Doriza herself.
"Now what?" she demanded. "I haven't had time to ask."
"Turn on the glare. Like that, yes—set it against one wall, and let it fall on the opposite, to fill this little passageway through which they must pass to fight each other."
The golden glow sprang into being. At the same moment a shout rose from the direction of the corridor. A patrol of Newcomers appeared, and others behind.
I sprang erect.
"Attention, all!" I roared at the top of my lungs. "Fire no shots, send no rays, or you will all perish in the explosion! You came to fight, exterminate! But I—I, Barak, the foremost fighter on this planet—am here to see that it does not happen!"
And I drew the saber at my side.
VI
I struck a pose as I stood there. I hoped that a grim and heroic attitude might give them pause.
"It's Barak!" said an officer at the forefront of the Newcomers.
"Barak!" echoed a warrior of Dondromogon. I heard a rattle and clink of weapons.
"Remember," I made haste to call out, "a bullet or ray will tear this place—and both forces—to bits! I'll perish, and so will every man on either side, as far as the explosion reaches!"
The Newcomers were only a trifle mystified, but the Dondromogon party, which knew what was beneath us, wavered. Those in the front rank appeared to give back a little. The Newcomers saw this beyond me, and made to move forward. Their officer, he who had recognized me, gestured outward with his arms to make some sort of battle formation. "Rush through," he said, "and fight it out in the clear beyond."
"Come on if you dare!" blared an officer of Dondromogon.
"Let nobody dare," I said, "unless he thinks he can fight his way past me."
The Newcomers paused in turn. "Barak," said the officer, "don't you know us? Don't you know me?"
I did know him, now that he spoke again. "You're Harvison, aren't you?" I hailed him. "Don't be the first I must kill." I wheeled around. "My challenge isn't to the Newcomers alone. I said, nobody shall pass through. My sword, if not my voice, will stop this war, here and now."
I heard a laugh, deep and familiar. Gederr had come among his troops.
"That's logic for you!" he mocked me. "Barak was always a man of blood! He'll kill us all to stop this slaughter. Someone finish him."
One of his lieutenants spoke to two of the foremost men, who stepped forward, rifles at the ready.
"If they shoot—" began Doriza tremulously.
"If they do, they destroy everyone!" I reminded yet again. "Come, who dares. Swords if you will, but no fire!"
The officer who had given the order stepped between the two soldiers, saber drawn. "Ready to rush," he said. "My blade, your butts—"
They approached, side by side. Their faces were set, grim. They faltered for only a moment at the entry to the glare field.
In that moment I rushed them.
They hadn't expected that, three against one. I shouted, and hurled myself at the soldier on the left. He made to dodge, and the officer opposed his own saber; but I spun away from it and before the other soldier knew my mind I was upon him. I could not use the ray in my blade, but it drove past his hastily lifted gun-barrel and struck his mailed shoulder so heavily that he dropped his weapon. Stepping in close, I uppercut him with the curved hilt as with a mailed fist.
Leaping over his falling form, I was upon the officer. A single twist, and I had his saber in my left hand. Two blows sent him staggering back. I parried a blow from the rifle-stock of the remaining soldier with my left-hand blade, while with my right I stabbed him in the side. He, too, retreated, clutching his wound. I waved my blood-streaming weapons.
"Who next?" I called.
Harvison made stout reply:
"You're mad, Barak. I know I'm no match for you, nobody is—but here I come!"
He came, and his fellows. They all tried to crowd at once into that narrow corridor, and hampered each other. I had a mighty sweep with both my swords, spanning twelve full feet with them—enough for my purpose. At my first parry I turned aside three points at once, disengaged, and got home on poor Harvison, through the shoulder. He sank to one knee, and further impeded his friends. I made a sweeping cut with both blades, and despite themselves they gave back.
"This is monotonous," I taunted them. "Make it exciting."
"Rush at his back," I heard Gederr yelling.
"Careful!" Doriza warned me. And then another voice I knew, deep and stout:
"I won't let them! Yandro, or Barak, or whoever you are—I'm with you!"
"Klob!" I yelled joyously over my shoulder. "I should have known I could count on you!"
He had rushed, facing about at my very shoulder-blades. I heard the snick of his blade against another weapon. Doriza again cried a warning, to Klob this time, and he scored on his adversary, for he snorted triumphantly. Then the Newcomers surged at me again.
I could not kill my own people. I strove to wound only. Three staggered back, out of the fight, but the others pressed me bravely. Both my swords must be everywhere at once. My breath began to come quickly, my mind floundered here and there for new stratagems. The saving answer came, not from my own brain, but from Klob.
"You!" I heard him address a new adversary. "You want to kill me? Truly?"
"Why—" panted the other. "Why, no—Klob—why kill—"
"You were my friend!" Klob harangued him. "Turn here with me! A chance for an end of war! Will you—won't you? If not, defend yourself, and I could always fence better—"
"I'm with you, Klob," the other agreed, rather sullenly. And then he stood by Klob.
At that moment I beat the biggest of my own adversaries to his knees, and the others stood off. I stole a quick glance around. Klob had been joined by his late opponent, a short but well-knit warrior armed with both sword and rifle. It gave me hope and an inspiration.
"Fools!" I said, pointing my swords. "You won't trust me, when I only want to help you, and these other fools who have been fighting you! You can't conquer me! So join me!"
"Why?"
That was Harvison, again on his feet, holding a bloody hand to his wound. The query was enough to slow up the others. They listened, and I had time and wit to reply.
"A handful of rulers, with blind ambition, caused the war. They're mostly gone. I want peace, a chance to bring both sides together."
"Stop his traitor mouth!" cried someone far back.
"Who's afraid to hear?" I yelled. "You almost walked into a trap, and I stopped you. These defenders have mined the cavern beyond—"
"He tells the truth, you Newcomers!" Klob seconded me. "If you can't understand truth and tell it from lies—look out, they come!"
He meant his own late comrades. Gederr had urged a fresh body at us.
"Quick!" I cried. "They heard me tell of their ambush, they want to silence me! Won't anyone help!"
"I will," gurgled Harvison, wounded as he was. He stepped past me, sword in his left hand, and engaged a Dondromogon warrior. Another big Newcomer leaped forward to do likewise. I seized my opportunity.
"Don't move without my order!" I addressed the remainder of Harvison's party, as if they were my allies again. "These defenders have the advantage of you in their planted explosives!"
"Then destroy them some other way," growled an under-officer.
I whirled toward the Dondromogon front. The attackers fell back.
"You still scare any man you look at, Barak," said Harvison. He was a little tottery from loss of blood, but game. "Well, shall we charge?" He managed a grin.
"I've been trying to keep you from doing that," I groaned. "I don't want tragedy here and extermination afterward. Can't this world stand peace—"
"If you can do it," someone said behind me, "I give you full authority."
I knew him. He was Dr. Thorald—high in the Newcomer command. With him were the other leaders, Parkeson and Captain Cross.
"Danger!" I gasped at them. "Don't come through here. Doriza, see that they do not—" I looked for her. She was not there.
"She slipped away while we fought," said Klob. "First setting the glare-lamp to run—"
My heart sank. "Which way did she go? Toward the Newcomers, or toward Dondromogon?"
"Toward Dondromogon," he said, and my heart sank the rest of the way.
She had decided to betray me after all.
"Wait here, all," I commanded, and moved clear of the glare-field. Moved straight toward the host of Dondromogon.
Gederr laughed again. I could read his thoughts. He had clinched his own power by judicious murders. Now he thought I was in his hands. "Shoot him down," he bade.
"Let no man shoot," I warned. "A pellet flying past me will strike and set off the glare-field. It's still swords, and in the open we can use their rays."
I flicked on my own. The blade glowed like hot iron.
"Come and fight," I invited. "All of you. Or withdraw and explode this trap on me alone."
"He's tired of life," snarled Gederr, hidden in the ranks.
"I'm tired of this fighting," was my reply. "If I die alone, the Newcomer force remains intact. It can move upon you and force you to peace. Men of Dondromogon, overthrow this coward tyrant Gederr, who defends his pride and power with your bodies!"
I think they indicated that they knew the truth of that, and Gederr knew it, too. At any rate, he moved boldly to reestablish his influence.
"I'll prove he lies! I hide nowhere!" The words fairly rang out. "Retreat, quickly, to the positions behind. Leave me to face him."
They fell back, quickly and orderly. Of a sudden I found myself in that big cave, and Gederr before me, no more than twenty paces distant. He held his ray-saber, glowing and ready, in his right hand. In his left was some sort of silvery cylinder. He grinned murderously.
"You offer yourself as a sacrifice," he said, "and I accept you."
I moved toward him, my body in line with the glare-field.
"You overgrown bully-swordsman," he taunted. "An ounce of my brain can defeat a ton of your big lumpy muscles."
"Explode the mine," I said. "It will take us both. You can't retreat out of both my reach and the explosion's."
"Can't I?"
He held up his cylinder. "Here's the fuse. By remote control it can set off all, or any part I select. Understand before you die, Barak. I'll blow up a small area, and you with it, as soon as you set foot where I want."
His broad face sniggered. "Oh, you've played into my hands from the first! You tried to disrupt—you only gave me an excuse to wipe out the rest of that Council, and take all power for myself. Now I'll kill you. Will you come on? Or retreat, and die as you flee? Or just stand there, like a captive statue?"
I continued my advance upon him. "You're lying," I said, but my heart told me that for once he was not.
"Your life is in my hands," he said. "You don't know what moment will see your own feet carrying you to your death. Come, pursue me, brave Barak, stupid Barak. Let your last thought be this—your death helps me immeasurably."
"You're lying," I said again, and he laughed again.
"Reflect. Let your thick skull filter these facts. I shall destroy you. To my followers I will be a hero. Your own Newcomers will pause and wonder. I can re-order my defenses, and most of the planted mines will remain to check any advance—"
Forgetting all caution, all planning, I charged him. He turned and ran like Dondromogon's outer winds.
But I had taken no more than half a dozen steps in pursuit when all the thunders and lightnings of the universe seemed to burst around me.
I fell, swiftly and deeply, into black nothingness.
I was able to establish which way was up, which down, and that I lay horizontally, as if floating in liquid or upon clouds. My ears hummed a trifle, and a voice spoke.
"He will be all right."
Dr. Thorald! I opened my eyes, and they were blurred. I lifted a hand to them, and moaned despite myself.
"Were you killed, too?" I muttered.
"Killed? Not me. Nobody was killed, except that fat pig you met in the cavern. Not enough of him left to make a funeral worth while." Thorald looked behind him. "Ahoy, Parkeson! Cross! Barak's going to be all right."
The other two heads of the Newcomer expedition pushed into view, and looked down upon me where I lay.
"High time," grumbled Parkeson. "They're yelling for him—both sides. Barak, you'll have to drop all your weapons and take up political economy. I greatly fear you'll have a world to run."
"World?" I echoed stupidly. "What world?" My head cleared a bit. "Where's Doriza?"
"The fighting's over," Parkeson soothed me. "Just as you forced it to be. I'm still trying to decide whether you were an epic hero or an epic idiot, there at the crossways of battle, making us all stop, or fight you! But your hunch paid off. The entire Council of Dondromogon is dead, and—"
"Doriza," I said again.
"Somebody named Klob, a sturdy soldierly chap, is taking charge. An old sneak named Sporr tried to foment a counter-rising, but Klob disintegrated him. However, the army of Dondromogon still holds an inner defense—says it doesn't trust us quite. Wants only you to assure it that we mean peace. Feel like getting up, Barak?"
Dr. Thorald leaned over. "You've engineered this yourself, Barak, or maybe you didn't engineer it—maybe you only bulled it through. So I won't put words in your mouth, or thoughts in your head. But tell those deluded people to start by trusting us. And you know that they can. Nobody wanted war less than I. Peacetime endeavor on Dondromogon is quite difficult and exciting enough."
"Doriza," I said yet again, and then, "All right, gentlemen. You won't tell me about her. Maybe you don't dare. But how did I survive?"
"Oh, that?" put in Captain Cross. "Don't you know? The explosion was set off prematurely, to trap and destroy Gederr. It blew him to atoms, but you were clear of it. You had a bad tumble into the lower chamber—"
Now I sat up. "Never tell me that he bungled it that badly! Gederr was a tyrant and coward and murderer, but not a bungler!"
"He was to some extent. Is your head clear? Now we can begin to explain."
Cross subsided, and Dr. Thorald took up the tale: "We sent a spy among them, a long time back, a spy that would pretend to be renegading from us. The spy was good, but got a rather visionary idea, like your own—that peace was better than war between us."
"Practically treason," opined Parkeson sagely.
"We might have held a court-martial and an execution," went on Dr. Thorald, "but for you. Because you seemed to plan out all this Horatius-at-the-bridge coup. And just when we thought it had achieved success—we thought you were failing."
"And up bobs our ex-spy, and sets off the explosion," chimed in Cross. "Sets it off to destroy Gederr and save you. And that left them without a leader to order battle, and they were more than glad to talk peace."
"What," I growled, "has all this to do with Doriza?"
"Why," grinned Dr. Thorald, "they're yelling for her, too, to lead in the final peace talks. Because, you see, she was our spy, our pseudo-renegade, who set off the explosion!"
Doriza came forward to where I had sagged back on the pillows. At sight of her smile, I thought no more of strife and wounds and worries.