Sutton_Jean_Sutton_Jeff_-_Lord_Of_The_Stars Read online

  As if the suns were hurtling toward them, the square rapidly expanded, bringing hundreds of new stars into view until the original area within the square encompassed the entire wall. Although he had seen the stellar display many times before, he marveled at the ingenuity which had created it.

  “Altair,” the Overlord commanded.

  The Master of Colonial Operations limped to the wall screen and picked up a pointer. “You will note this as a section from Star Catalogue AN2412SL778 — directly across the Ebon Deeps.” His voice held a reedy note. “More precisely, it’s the area which the Empire Council selected for survey and colonization more than ten years ago — standard years, of course — when it voted to expand our stabilization limit through the creation of an eighteenth sector. Approximately three hundred and fifty sun systems are involved.”

  “What has this to do with the so-called alien threat?” Benkar Redmont demanded testily.

  “All of the ships have been lost in precisely the same area.” Altair Harbin jabbed the pointer at a small patch of orange suns. Adjacent to them, Samul noted an emerald star that flared in lonely majesty.

  “You said that before,” Redmont snapped. “We went over the disasters at the time. As I recall, we ruled out aliens.”

  “That was before the loss of the Nomad,” Altair Harbin returned primly.

  “What does that prove?”

  “Granted we’d never encountered an alien culture with a space capability, Sol believed the coincidence too much.” Harbin nodded acknowledgment to the Overlord. “For that reason we equipped the Nomad with special space criers — three, to be exact.”

  “Space criers?” Redmont arched a brow questioningly.

  “Instrumented message units which instantly can be projected into hyperspace in the event of an emergency,” Harbin explained. “They broadcast continually on the Zirg band.”

  “And we picked up such broadcasts from the Nomad?” Ghengin Kaan interrupted.

  “We did.” Harbin moved his head with a birdlike motion. “The first crier reported five strange vessels emerging from hyperspace.”

  “Precisely where?”

  “Near the second planet of the sun Holhauf, named in honor of our great astronomer emeritus.” The Master of Colonial Operations jabbed the pointer at an orange speck. “That’s here — Star SX323L of Catalogue AN2412SL778.”

  “What were the following messages?” Ghengin Kaan persisted. “You mentioned three criers.”

  “There were none.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “We have to conclude that the Nomad was destroyed immediately after the first launch.”

  In the silence that followed, something prickled at Samul’s memory, and he asked, “Isn’t that the general area where that colonist ship was lost a few years back?”

  “Here…” Altair Harbin jabbed the pointer at the emerald star Samul had noted earlier. “I had intended to mention that. The ship — the Golden Ram — had breached the Ebon Deeps in direct violation of Regulation CO559M of my department. You will recall that as a regulation which prohibits the colonization of any area not previously certified as safe and habitable by the Survey Branch of Colonial Operations.”

  “Do we actually know what happened to the Golden Ram?” Samul asked.

  “We’re fairly certain.” Altair Harbin gazed at the Master of Defense.

  “It was an old pile ship,” Ghengin Kaan explained. “It used the pile for operations below the hyperspace level. Something happened, and the pile went critical.”

  “How do we know?” Samul persisted.

  Ghengin Kaan looked annoyed. “The ship sent an emergency call over the Zirg band,” he snapped. “The captain intended to land on the second planet of Aura Rawn. The disaster occurred at that time.”

  “Aura Rawn?”

  “That’s how the captain — I forget his name — identified the star. He also gave the catalogue number.”

  “Aura Rawn means Star of Dawn in the old Middle Empire language,” Samul remarked musingly. The study of Middle Empire semantics was his hobby. He thought the name revealed a lot about the captain’s character; he would have been something of a poet.

  “I prefer the designation JX428M of Catalogue AN2412SL778,” Altair Harbin broke in testily. “It’s more definitive.”

  Benkar Redmont said caustically, “At least the Golden Ram wasn’t destroyed by these so-called aliens.”

  Samul disregarded the comments, his eyes on the Master of Defense. “You seem to know quite a bit about it,” he encouraged.

  “I should,” Ghengin Kaan snorted. “As senior admiral of the Seventeenth Sector Fleet at the time, I conducted the investigation.”

  “Could there have been any survivors?”

  “Not if the disaster occurred in hyperspace.”

  “Perhaps it didn’t.”

  “How can you state that?” Ghengin Kaan demanded.

  Samul wasn’t perturbed. “You mentioned the captain intended to land on the second planet,” he commented. “That implies a sun system of at least two planets.”

  “Five all told. What has that to do with it?”

  “Why the second planet?” Samul countered. “He must have known the planet was habitable. He couldn’t have known that unless he was in planetary space, sufficiently close for a sensor analysis.”

  “The Zirg band operates in hyperspace!”

  “He could have transferred to hyperspace, sent the message, returned within seconds.”

  “Perhaps,” Ghengin Kaan conceded grudgingly.

  “So they could have launched lifeboats.”

  “We have no evidence of that.”

  “We should consider the possibility,” Samul stated. “Why?” Ghengin Kaan demanded. “If you’re considering a search mission, it’s out of the question. Our consideration now is this alien threat.”

  Sol Houston leaned suddenly forward. “What do you have in mind, Samul?”

  “The aliens,” he answered. “We’d better hope they haven’t gotten their hands on any of our people.”

  “Why?” Ghengin Kaan interrupted.

  “If it’s a race with an interstellar capability — as the message from the crier stated — then it’s almost certainly a race capable of draining a man’s memory banks,” he answered gravely. “That could be serious — how serious dependent on how knowledgeable such a captive might have proved to be.”

  “Exactly,” Sol Houston interceded. “That has been one of my chief concerns.”

  “That seems to be carrying lava to Luna,” Benkar Redmont observed sourly. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Do we have any records on the crew or passengers?” Samul looked at Altair Harbin. “It might help to know the degree of knowledge that might possibly have fallen into alien hands.”

  “Well, the Golden Ram did let down here in Gylan.” Altair Harbin searched his memory. “That was when my department made the captain cognizant of Regulation CO559M, the prohibition I mentioned against colonization.”

  “The records,” Samul reminded.

  “We have fairly complete dossiers,” Sol Houston broke in quietly. “I ordered a complete check on the Golden Ram’s crew and passengers, starting on Earth, the lift-off planet.”

  Samul eyed the Overlord appreciatively. Very little, if anything, escaped Sol Houston. He was one administrator who hadn’t gotten there on the family name.

  Ghengin Kaan broke the brief silence. “We just received word of the Nomad’s loss,” he said pointedly. “We couldn’t have gathered much in the way of records in this short time.”

  Sol Houston looked at Samul. “I commenced the search ten years ago-the day we lost our first survey ship.”

  “We should order elements of the Seventeenth Fleet into that sector immediately,” the Master of Defense declared. “If there are aliens there, we’ll take care of them in short order.”

  “The Regent Administrator opposes such action.” The Overlord smiled bleakly. “He’s drop
ping the whole affair into the Prime Administrator’s lap.”

  Samul wasn’t surprised. The Regent Administrator, a weak, indecisive man, had gotten there on the family name. In the ordinary course of events, it made but scant difference, for the real work of empire administration was carried on by such overlords as Sol Houston. But this wasn’t the ordinary course of events.

  “We couldn’t get an answer for six months,” Benkar Redmont observed. “Not even on the Zirg band.”

  “Correct,” the Overlord affirmed.

  “Then what’s the purpose of this meeting?”

  “To prepare for possible eventualities.”

  “Eventualities?” Redmont looked askance. “Certainly you don’t believe that any alien culture — if one exists — would be audacious enough to attack

  us? An empire that extends over sixty-eight-hundred star systems? Never.”

  “I agree,” Ghengin Kaan snapped. “The Third Terran Empire is invincible.”

  “Altair?” Sol Houston shifted his gaze.

  Altair Harbin sucked his thin lips nervously. “I believe I agree with Benkar and Ghengin,” he affirmed finally. “A threat against the empire is unthinkable.”

  “Samul?” Sol Houston eyed him.

  “I’m shaking,” Samul said. “Our empire, to them, might appear less than a leaf in a high wind.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’d like to throw a bioscan on that second planet, see if there’s any sign of human habitation.”

  “So would I, Samul.”

  “Is that a possibility?”

  “Not until we hear from Earth, or unless the Regent Administrator decides to tackle the problem himself.”

  “The sun will freeze first,” Samul replied bluntly. Benkar Redmont gasped, Altair Harbin sniffed, and Ghengin Kaan frowned disapprovingly. Politeness, if not discretion, dictated that a Regent Administrator could do no wrong.

  Sol Houston nodded. “You’re right, he won’t.”

  “Have we any survey ships in the Deeps now?”

  “They’ve all been recalled.”

  “I believe that order a sound one,” Altair Harbin said plaintively. “We shouldn’t risk our survey units out there under present circumstances.”

  Sol Houston contemplated him frostily before looking at Ghengin Kaan. “I want every unit of the Seventeenth Fleet put on full alert,” he instructed, “and I want space warning nets placed around every planet in the sector. Every planet and every moon.”

  “You mean every habitable planet, don’t you?”

  “Every planet, Ghengin.”

  “The methane giants? Why spread the fleet to protect them? It seems to me…”

  “What do we know of the nature of these aliens?” the Overlord demanded harshly. “They might very well seize footholds on such planets.”

  Benkar Redmont blurted, “No alien culture known…”

  “We’re talking about the unknown,” he interrupted. He kept his eyes on Ghengin Kaan, rapping out orders. “I want a fast cruiser with surface search equipment to stand by for lift-off at a moment’s notice,” he added.

  “For Star JX428M of Catalogue AN2412SL778?” Altair Harbin asked anxiously.

  “For the second planet of Aura Rawn, if that’s the one,” the Overlord assented.

  “That’s JX428M,” Altair Harbin confirmed.

  Ghengin Kaan asked nervously, “How about the Regent Administrator’s opposition to, uh, such an action?”

  “We won’t go without his approval, Ghengin, but I want a ship standing by.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Altair Harbin cleared his throat and said, “I hope there are no survivors on that planet.”

  “Why?” Sol Houston’s eyes fixed him sharply.

  “Well, they’d be there in direct violation of Regulation CO559M,” he answered primly.

  Abruptly adjourning the meeting, Sol Houston motioned Samul to remain as the others rose to leave. Samul wryly noted their reactions to what they

  regarded as rank favoritism. Altair Harbin looked hurt, Benkar Redmont indignant, and Ghengin Kaan positively venomous. Samul didn’t mind. In truth, he felt a trifle sorry for them. There had been a time when he had been appalled by the incompetency of many of the top administrators, but he had long since learned that it was a quality that ran throughout the fabric of government. It was, in fact, a government by regulation; administrators were merely manipulators of orders, codes, laws.

  He supposed it had always been that way — a few capable men like Sol Houston to every 10,000 drones. The rebellion of the people of a single sun system, which had brought on the bloody interstellar war that had toppled the Second Terran Empire, was said to have been caused by the indecision of a minor administrator in wording a communiqu�� at a critical time. He could well believe it. Regulation CO559M — he wanted to laugh.

  Sol Houston said musingly, “I don’t know whether or not there’s anything to the Golden Ram episode, Samul, but it’s worth considering.”

  “I believe it is.”

  The Overlord caught his eyes. “I have the uncomfortable feeling that the human race is about to be tested for its right to survive,” he said soberly. “In time it comes to every life form. I can’t believe that in a Universe, the dimensions of which are infinity, there aren’t races which equal or surpass ours. What is the Third Terran Empire, Samul? A grain of sand on an endless shore.”

  “Nature always favors her most capable,” Samul countered.

  “I fully intend that we meet that requirement,” Sol Houston stated bluntly.

  “So do I.”

  “But enough of that.” The Overlord settled back into his chair and continued. “I’d like you to scan the dossiers on the Golden Ram’s passengers and crew. They are quite complete — as complete as possible for the time allowed us.”

  “I’d be very interested in seeing them.”

  “Perhaps I’m just whistling in the wind, Samul, but there’s a very good chance that lifeboats were launched. If so, there’s at least an outside possibility that the survivors had some contact with whatever race it was that destroyed our survey ships. What does that mean? I’m not certain.”

  His eyes came up slowly. “But I am certain that no race would attack another race without some knowledge of its capabilities, military and otherwise. They could learn quite a bit from the memory banks of a few survivors.”

  “That opens other possibilities,” Samul observed.

  “You believe they might be tapping us for information by other methods? I’ve considered that.” The Overlord frowned. “It’s unlikely they resemble us sufficiently to land agents on any empire planet.”

  “I was thinking of scanners interjected into our planetary orbits,” Samul confessed.

  “The reason for the warning nets,” Sol Houston conceded. “I was derelict in not ordering them up when we lost the first survey ship. I wouldn’t at all be surprised to find their scanners in our skies.”

  “The nets should be thrown up throughout the empire,” Samul stated.

  “I’ve sent a warning to the Space Overlord for each sector.” Sol Houston eyed him musingly. “You’ll find the dossiers interesting. I suspect that the Golden Ram was not an ordinary colonist ship.”

  “Oh?” Samul waited.

  “The captain — Gordell June was his name-was a telepath. He’d been registered at age three, when a positive identification was made. As you know, the mutant laws requiring registration are quite rigorously enforced, even though we can’t restrict their movements.” He smiled whimsically. “Fortunately

  for us lesser mortals, they tend to live in their own colonies.”

  “And June?”

  “Left his colony while still a boy, age twelve, to be exact. That was the last heard of him until he turned up as captain of the Golden Ram.”

  “How was the identification made?”

  “The retinal prints made at the time of his registration matched those taken when the ship put in
to Gylan. He also had a wife.”

  “Telepathic?”

  “I suspect so. She came from Gelnik, in the Rigel system. As you know, quite a few mutant births occurred there in the centuries following the cobalt bombings that led to the fall of the Second Empire.”

  “Any children?”

  “June and his wife? A young son. He would have been around three at the time the ship was lost. We have his birth record and essential identification patterns.”

  “Was he telepathic?”

  “Not by the record.” Sol Houston furrowed his brow. “But we did discover nearly a dozen registered mutants among the Golden Ram’s passengers and crew. My personal belief is that they all were telepathic. June probably was heading out to found their own world.”

  “I wouldn’t be adverse to that,” Samul answered reflectively.

  “The empire likes to keep them close at hand, under control,” the Overlord responded drily.

  Samul eyed him. “I’ve often suspected that there are more among us than we know.”

  “That’s entirely possible. Our screening procedures are quite loose.” Sol Houston brought an inch-high container from his pocket and slid it across the table. “The records are all there — microdotted.”

  3

  “IKU 234M…”

  “Iku 519L, Captain Sklar to Subchief Gullen…”

  “Iku 445W to Iku 529R…”

  The telepathic messages flashing through the mind of Iku-Nuku 117G brought no response. His seven powerful tentacles lazily extended, he let his globular body drink in the last meager warmth of the dusky orange sun PuKug, which fast was setting; warmth on the desolate planet Mull was a precious thing. His single eye held a vacuous stare.

  Of negligible intelligence, Iku-Nuku 117G responded only to certain stimuli. When a correct one came — usually his call number — he obeyed simple directions, which usually consisted of repeating the messages that came into his mind to whomever they were directed.

  Iku-Nuku 117G never considered the contents of such messages, for that was beyond his comprehension. He didn’t know that Iku-Nuku, in the language of his race, meant idiot telepath; neither did he know that but for fate he would have been a mind master, sitting in the highest councils of his race. But the odds were long, for about one Kroon in 1,000,000 was telepathic; and of these, about one in 1,000,000 was born with the genius of a mind master; the remainder of the telepathic Kroons were of the Iku-Nuku.