Star Rangers (The Last Planet)

8. Palace Revolution

"That's it— I've practically nothing concrete to tell. It's just a kind of feeling — the way he persists in keeping us away from all but his own men. He has a guard — that Can-hound, a couple of jetmen from the X451, one of the officers, two intal planters, and three professional mercenaries. They're all armed — Control issue blasters and force blades. But I haven't heard of or seen any of the other officers from the X451. And Cummi's taken over — gives commands to us! Dalgre and Snyn were sent to join his techneers and help run the city. Ordered to do so, mind you — and they Patrolmen! And Jaksan didn't make any objection."

"And what about you — has he drafted you yet?" asked Rolth.

"Luckily I wasn't there when they came hunting techneer recruits. Look here — how does he dare give orders to the Patrol?" There was honest bewilderment in Smitt's voice.

For the second time Kartr explained. "Better get it into your head, Smitt, that as far as you, and Cummi, and the rest of us are concerned, the Patrol has ceased to exist. We've nothing to back up any show of authority — he has. That is just why — "

"You argued against our coming here?" Smitt's lips thinned. Kartr felt the other's rage. "Well, you were right! I know you rangers don't feel the same about the Service as we crewmen do. You've always been independent cusses. But my father died on the barricades at the Altra air locks — one of the rear guard who held their posts long enough for the survivors' ships to leave. And my grandfather was second officer of the Promixa dreadnaught when she tried to reach Andromeda. We've served five generations in the Patrol. And may I be Space-burned if I ever take orders from a Cummi while I still wear this!" His hand went to his Comet badge.

"A very fine sentiment which will not help you any if Cummi's private police force comes a-hunting," Zinga remarked. "But was it just this disinclination to take orders from a mere civilian which drove you to us?"

"You," Smitt snapped at the Zacathan, "needn't be so cocky. I overheard enough to learn that Cummi is death on fraternization with Bemmys and that goes for rangers, too," he aimed in Kartr's direction. "There's a rumor, it came in the form of a secondhand warning from one of the intal planters, that Cummi's had a couple burned already — "

"A couple of what?" That was Fylh, and his crest was rising. "Bemmys? Of what species?"

Smitt shook his head. "I don't know, the planter was vague. Only, you're not going to get a fair deal from Cummi, that's plain. And I'm not going to take his orders. Maybe we haven't always run the same course before, but we have a common problem before us now."

"So?" Fylh's claws preened his crest. "But the best of the bargain seems to be yours under the circumstances. What do you have to offer us in return?"

"He has something we might need," Kartr broke in.

The appeal of the com-techneer was an honest one. He did want to throw in with them.

"It will depend upon you, Smitt. Can you swallow your pride enough to co-operate with Cummi's party — co-operate until you can learn something of their set-up — how much power Cummi really has, whether there are any rebels among the passengers, what are some of his future plans? We're not" — he spoke now to the rangers — "going to strike out blindly. You two, Fylh and Zinga, will have to lie low until we do know how we stand. No use attracting any attention. As for me, since my talk with Jaksan, I am doubtless down in their black books with a double star. Rolth is handicapped for daytime work. So, Smitt, if you are really willing to join up with us, keep that wish under mind block — and I mean under block. The Ageratan is a sensitive and what he can't scrape out of an unsuspecting mind the Can-hound may be able to get for him. It'll be a tough assignment, Smitt. You're got to join the anti-Bemmy, pro-Cummi crowd — at least with lukewarm attachment. A little initial rebellion is all right, they would expect that from a Patrolman with your background. But can you play a double game, Smitt — and do you want to?"

The com-techneer had listened quietly and now he raised his head and nodded.

"I can try. I don't know about this mind block business." He hesitated. "I'm no sensitive. How much can Cummi do with me?"

"He's a five point nine. He can't take you over, if that is what you're afraid of. You're from Luga — or your family was Lugan stock originally, weren't they?"

"My father was Lugan. My mother came from Desart."

"Lugan — Desart — " Kartr looked to Zinga.

"High resistance core," the Zacathan informed him promptly. "Imaginative, but excellent control. Resistance is above eight. No, no Ageratan could take him over. And you do have a mind block, Smitt, whether you've ever tried to use it or not. Just think about some com-machine when you're around a sensitive. Concentrate on some phase of your old job — "

"Like this?" demanded Smitt eagerly.

It was as if he had snapped off some switch. Where Smitt sat there was now a mental blank. Kartr bit off an exclamation and then said:

"Keep that up, Smitt! Zinga — !"

His own power went out toward the com-techneer, and then he felt a second stream of energy unite with it, driving into that blankness with him like the tip of a blaster beam. So, he had been right! Zinga was a sensitive, too, and to a degree he could not even measure. Together their wills smashed at Smitt, smashed on a barrier which held as staunchly as the hull of a space ship.

There were beads of moisture on Kartr's forehead, gathering under the edge of his helmet to trickle down his cheeks and chin. Then his free hand moved in a gesture of defeat and he relaxed.

"You need not worry about mind invasion, Smitt. Unless you get careless."

The com-techneer was on his feet. "Then we are allied?" He asked that almost shyly, as if he had come there expecting to be turned away.

"We are. Just stir around some and see what you can find out. But don't, if possible, get sent off from here where we can't reach you. We may have to move fast if trouble comes."

"I won't let you down." Smitt crossed to the door. Now he hesitated and turned. And before he went out his hand moved in a gesture which included all of them — human and Bemmy alike — the full salute of a Patrolman to his equals.

"Now — just in case — " Fylh flitted across the room and stamped on the door-controlling block, locking the portal with the heat of his claws.

"Yes," Zinga agreed, "one does feel more relaxed when it isn't necessary to think about guarding one's back. Shall we settle in?"

Kartr slipped his left wrist out of the sling and rubbed it thoughtfully.

"They have a medico here. I wonder — "

Rolth moved up beside him. "Are you thinking of venturing into the slith's cave alone?"

"A well-equipped ship's hospital should include a renewer ray. And I'd like to go into battle — if I have to — with two good hands instead of one. Also it gives me a legitimate excuse for wandering around below. I can ask questions — "

"All right. But you don't go alone," Rolth agreed. "Somehow I don't fancy any of us prancing about alone in this building. Two's pretty good company — and two blasters can clear a wider path than one."

"None of that! I'm a sufferer in search of a medico, remember?" But Kartr's lips stretched in what had come during these past days to be an unfamiliar curve, a genuine smile. "Have you two enough to amuse yourselves with while we are gone?"

"Don't worry about us." Zinga grinned and his inch fangs shone in the greenish light to ghoulish advantage. "We shall set up housekeeping. We do, I take it, lock the door behind you?"

"Yes. And you open it only when you pick up our mind patterns."

Zinga didn't even blink at that. Of course, he had revealed the extent of his power when he had aided Kartr in attacking Smitt's block. But, with his usual disregard for human emotions, he apparently saw no reason for discussing his long concealment now.

Fylh opened the door and they started down the stairs. It was quiet below and they were almost into the corridor before Kartr's perception warned him of a stranger's approach. It was a young man, in the rather ornate uniform of a passenger ship's officer, who strode confidently toward them.

"You are Sergeant Kartr?"

"I am."

"The Vice-Sector Lord wishes to see you."

Kartr stopped and gazed with mild interest at the newcomer. Perhaps the sergeant was even a year or so younger than this assured Flight Spacer — allowing for planetary and racial difference — but suddenly he felt almost grandfatherly.

"I have not received any orders from my superior officer delegating me to be attached to the service of the Central Control Civil Section."

And for a wonder that pomposity actually disconcerted the other. Maybe the old magic of the Patrol still held a small power. Kartr and Rolth started on, passed the officer, and were several feet down the hall before he caught up with them again.

"See here!" He tried to project the sting of an order into his voice, but it faded when both rangers wheeled to give him grave and courteous attention. "The Lord Cummi — he is in charge here, you know," he ended lamely.

"Section six, paragraph eight, general orders," answered Rolth. " `The Patrol is the guardian of the law under Central Control. It may assist the civil branch if and when requested to do so. But at no time and in no manner does it surrender its authority to any planetary or sectional advisor or ruler, except under the direct seal and order of Central Control.' "

The youngster stood with his mouth slightly open. The last thing he had expected, thought Kartr with a relieving chuckle of real humor which he was able to suppress, was to have general orders spouted in his face. Zinga would have loved to hear this. Kartr hoped that the Zacathan had followed them mentally and was enjoying it.

"But — " whatever protest the Spacer was about to make died away as the rangers' expressions of polite but impatient attention did not alter.

"Now," Kartr said when the officer added nothing to that forlorn "but," "perhaps you can direct me to your medico's quarters. I require attention for this." He indicated his wrist.

The officer was eager to oblige. "Down two flights of stairs at the end of this corridor and turn to your right. Medico Tre has the first four rooms in that hall."

He remained where he was, still staring after them as they moved on.

"What do you suppose he is going to report to the great Cummi?" Rolth wondered as they followed directions. "I don't think that I would care to be in his boots. "Do you believe — "

"That I was wise to stand up and resist at this point? Maybe I wasn't, but they must have discovered from Jaksan that I am hostile. And" — Kartr's face was entirely expressionless — "that was something I had to do. He set the Can-hound on us!"

And Rolth, having seen that fighting face before and knowing what its mask covered, decided to say no more.

They met no one else on those two flights of stairs. Apparently this portion of Cummi's stronghold was more or less deserted. And they were approaching the first door along the medico's corridor when a thin whisper of sound caught their attention. Here the tall windows were set in deep recesses and it was from one of those that the summons came.

"A woman — "

But Kartr already knew that, having met the block which always prevented a sensitive from interpreting the emotions of one of the opposite sex. She was leaning forward, daring to beckon with one hand. Rolth edged toward that side of the hall and Kartr nodded. The Faltharian would contact the woman while the sergeant kept on to their destination. If any one except Zinga had a mind watch on them at present such a move might be confusing.

Rolth stepped into the embrasure and drew back against the window, taking the woman with him. To anyone not directly before the recess they were not visible. Kartr went on a yard and glanced back. Rolth had made the right move — from where he was now they could not be seen.

The sergeant turned into the next open door. Medico's quarters all right from the equipment in sight. Almost at the same instant a tall man came from an inner room. Kartr tried mind contact and then lost some of his tension. This was no Ageratan, and no enemy either. He could scan nothing but good will in the other's mind.

"You have a renewer ray?" he asked, drawing his arm out of the sling.

"We have. How long it will continue to function locked to these city currents is another question. We cannot be sure of anything. I am Medico Lasilo Tre. A break?" His fingers were already busy about Kartr's wrist, unfastening the bandages Zinga had put on that morning.

"I don't know. Ah — " Kartr sucked in his breath as Tre began probing the bruised and purple flesh.

Then the ranger was pushed down on a stool at the edge of the renewer beam, his throbbing arm stretched out under the concentrated ray, feeling again the draw of those invisible healing motes. Twice Tre snapped off the current and came to examine the hurt with delicate finger tips — only to turn it on again after shaking his head. The third time he was satisfied. Kartr lifted his arm gingerly and flexed first his fingers and then his wrist. Although he had once before been under the ray — to renew a leg almost chewed to pieces — the wonder of the restoration was as great as ever. He pulled off his sling and grinned happily at the medico.

"Better than new," Tre commented. "Only wish that your officer could be as easily put to rights, Sergeant — "

Vibor! Kartr had almost forgotten the Commander. "How is he?"

Tre frowned. "The physical wounds — those we were able to heal. But the other— I'm no psycho-sensitive. He needs the type of care and treatment he'll never be able to get now — unless a miracle occurs and we are rescued — "

"Which you do not believe will ever happen," suggested Kartr.

"How can any sensible man believe that we will?" countered the medico. But there was something else, another emotion hidden beneath that answer. "This planet — this solar system — does not even exist on any map the X451 carried."

"But those who built this city were at a high level of civilization," Kartr pointed out. "Where did they go?"

"They were and they weren't. Mechanically they were far advanced, yes. But there are odd gaps. I understand you rangers are trained to assess strange civilizations. I shall be eager to have your reaction to the ruins of this one after you have had the time to study it. The one thing I have noticed is that there is no space port here and there never was. Maybe the men of this world never knew space flight — "

"But what happened to them?"

Tre shrugged. "At least this is no second Tantor. We made sure of that before we entered the city. And we have found no human remains here. It seems almost as if they all walked away one day, leaving their city ready and waiting, all geared to go again when they wished to return. There are signs of time — some erosion. The machinery, though, had all been left protected, oiled, laid up in such a way as to set our mech-techneers running around begging people to come and look at an excellent preservation job."

"They must have planned on returning, then." Kartr digested that. Was there, on some other land mass of this unknown world, a remnant of civilization?

"If they did they were prevented. It has been a long time since they left. Wrist okay, Sergeant?"

Kartr did not start at the abrupt change in the other's speech. He knew that Rolth was at the door behind him.

"Medico Tre, Ranger Rolth." He was careful to glance around before making the introductions. No need to tip off Tre that he was a sensitive.

The medico acknowledged the Faltharian's salute. "Pleased to see you, ranger. Any aches or pains to report? Goggles holding up? Need any skin burn cream? You are a Faltharian?"

The lips below Rolth's goggle mask curved into a smile which expanded under the medico's friendliness. "You know all about my problems then, Medico?"

"Had a Faltharian patient once — bad skin burn. That's what started me messing around with creams. Found one which did help a lot. Wait a minute — "

He hurried to a medicine case in the corner and began checking over the assortment of plaso-tubes it held. "Try this." He brought one out. "Spread it on before you go into direct daylight. I think you'll find it will stop irritation."

"Thanks, Medico." Rolth put the tube into his belt pouch. "So far I've been okay. Only the sergeant here had work for you."

Kartr flipped his left hand up and down from the restored wrist. "And this is as good as new. What's your fee?"

Tre laughed. "Credit slips wouldn't have much value here, would they? If you come across anything interesting in my line when you go exploring, just let me know. That will be good enough for me. Glad to be of service to the Patrol at any time, anyway. You boys deserve the best we civilians can give you. I hear that you may be hunting — any chance of going along some time on one of your trips?"

Kartr was surprised. There was an urgency in that question and the medico's eyes locked with his as if Tre were trying desperately to tell him something — a message vitally important to both of them.

"I don't see why not," the sergeant returned. "If we do go. I've had no orders as yet. Thanks again, Medico — "

"Not at all. Only too glad to be able to help. See you around — "

But still underneath that urgent appeal. Then Kartr's eyes widened. The fingers of the medico's right hand — they had moved — were moving again — to shape a figure he knew well. But how — how and when had Tre learned that? Automatically he made the prescribed answer with his forefinger, even as he said loudly:

"If and when we go out, we'll let you know. Clear skies — "

"Clear skies." The other returned the spaceman's good-bye.

Outside the door Kartr's hand closed for a moment only on Rolth's. The Faltharian at once began talking about hunting.

"Those horned beasts we saw in the clearing," he said as they mounted the stairs again, "they should make excellent eating. There may be some way of salting down the flesh — if we could locate salt deposits. And the same for those river creatures Zinga is always talking about. We needn't send him to bring in those." The Faltharian laughed as light-heartedly as if he had not caught the message and was speaking now for other ears. "He'd eat more than he'd bring back."

"We'd better not use the blasters," Kartr cut in as if he were giving some serious thought to the questions. "Spoils too much of the meat. Force blades — "

"Have to get in close to use them, wouldn't you?" asked Rolth dubiously.

Both of them were climbing faster. There was someone behind them now. Kartr's mind touched and then recoiled, sickened. The Can-hound was trailing them. But they did not run, though they were breathing hard when they reached the top of the last flight and saw the door to the tower open just enough for them to squeeze through. Zinga slammed it shut on their heels with an open-jawed snarl of rage.

"So that's after you!"

"As a trailer only, I think. Let him stew around outside. Now, Rolth, what about that woman. What did she want?"

"She thought we were brave heroes come to the rescue. Cummi's kept it dark — our arrival — but word got around — our uniforms are too well known. She came to ask for help. The situation here is just about what you thought it was. Cummi's set himself up as a pocket-sized Central Control. You do just as he says or you don't eat. And if you protest too loudly you disappear — "

"How many have disappeared?" Fylh wanted to know.

"The Captain of the X451 and three or four others. Then there were four Bemmy passengers — they disappeared too. But not in the same way. I gather that they saw which way the stars were showing right after the landing and went off into the blue by themselves — "

"Bemmys! What species?" Zinga's frill made a fan behind his head. He still stood by the door as if listening to something on the other side of the portal.

"I couldn't get that out of her. She didn't see them until after the ship came down — it was a two-class liner. Anyway there is now a Cummi party, small but armed and dangerous, and an anti-Cummi party badly organized and just milling around — taking it out in talk where they can't be overheard by the lord and master. Cummi himself keeps holed up here and has his men patrolling. Those who know anything — the techneers, the medico — he keeps right under his eyes. That Can-hound is one of his big threats."

"Are we invited to join the anti-Cummi party?" Fylh asked.

"I don't think it has gone that far yet. They had an idea that the Patrol had moved in to take over. And do you know — I think that that is just what we might have done if we had handled this the way you wanted to, Kartr — allowed them to think we had an undamaged ship and were on duty. I had to tell the woman that we were not in charge. But I also informed her that the rangers were sticking together."

"They may plan a palace revolution," Kartr mused. "Very well. I say we stick tight here until we know more."

"Where did that medico learn ranger hand talk?" Rolth wondered.

"A question I'll ask him if I ever get the chance. He's another who suggested the waiting game and to keep our eyes open and our mouths shut."

"Our eyes and other things open — " Zinga's head was pressed against the surface of the door. "The Can-hound is about to do a little prying. Think sweet thoughts for him — quick!"