The Planet Killers

Chapter X

Drink in hand, Gardner walked to the window. He had a fairly good view. He stared out over the city. A garish kaleidoscope of lights and colors greeted his eye, so brilliant that it quite obscured the light of the three tiny moons above.

The instructions engraved on his memory now sprang vividly to life. He could practically hear Karnes intoning, “When all five members of the team have made their duly scheduled arrivals, you shall proceed at once to place the destruction plan into operation. Any delay at this point may result in failure.”

Gardner frowned. “… their duly scheduled arrivals.” But Archer was a week ahead of, schedule. It implied some alteration in the plan. He could not act until…

The visi-screen chimed three times, interrupting his stream of thought. It was the signal for a long-distance communication.

Gardner set his drink down carefully out of the range of the visual pickup and, pulling himself hurriedly together, activated the set.

Colors swirled aimlessly for a moment, a random stream of reds and yellows and blues. Quickly, they coalesced into a face.

It was Smee.

“Yes?” Gardner asked.

The alien operative smiled apologetically. The smile was a little loosened as though Smee had been drinking heavily and lost control of his facial muscles.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mr. Gardner.”

“No… no. What’s on your mind?”

Smee’s eyes were little dark beads. “I suppose you’re aware,” he said, “that your friend has arrived on Lurion?”

“Yes, I know that,” Gardner snapped impatiently. “He got here early. What of it?”

The impatience in Smee’s face was suddenly mirrored by the sharpness of his tones. “Six months is a long time, Mister Gardner. Now that your friend is here, when do we—”

“Soon, Smee. You’ll get the word.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure,” Gardner said. “There may be some last-minute instructions from the home company, and I don’t want to close the deal in haste. Got that?”

Smee sighed heavily. “You’re the boss. But I can’t take much more of this.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“Okay, then,” Smee said. “Let’s see that the deal does get closed, Gardner. And let’s not have to wait too long, either.” He broke the contact.

Nerves jangled, Gardner snatched at his drink and took a healthy gulp. Then he turned away, wincing as the fiery drink hit his stomach.

He couldn’t blame Smee at all for being impatient. The little man had been living on Lurion for six months, which was a hellishly long time for anyone, particularly if you were someone waiting patiently for a chance to destroy the planet. Smee’s only thought at this moment had to be that the team was now complete.

It was an understandable attitude. But Gardner couldn’t work that way. For one reason or another, Archer had arrived on Lurion early; and, until Gardner knew the reason for the change in schedule, he couldn’t give the blowup order. For all he knew, Archer was carrying a stay of execution for Lurion. He had to wait till he heard from him.

And then what do I do? Gardner wondered.

If there were no reprieve, it would be up to him at last to give the order to activate the sonic generators.

Gardner finished the drink and set the glass down. Then, acting with methodical precision, he corked the half-full bottle on the table, carried it to the disposal chute, sighed regretfully, and let it drop.

Whatever happened now, he wanted to make sure that he would be sober.

He paced round the room, hands tightly clenched into fists, feeling the frustration of knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do now but wait. Archer was somewhere on Lurion; Archer knew the name of the hotel where Gardner was registered. Gardner could not contact Archer, it had to be the other way around. Gardner waited.

Fifteen minutes later, the visi-screen emitted a double buzz. Gardner sprang toward it, yanking down the activating switch. He felt coldly apprehensive as he watched the swirling colors take on form and coherence.

The face that appeared was bland, mild, undistinguished and unmemorable in any way. Weak, watery-looking eyes stared outward, not attempting to look straight forward but shying diffidently off to one side. It was Damon Archer. He was smiling uncertainly. His chin was weak, his hair a mousy brown, his lips thin.

“Hello,” he said- in a voice that matched his physical appearance. “I’m Damon Archer.”

“I know.”

“You’re Gardner.”

“That’s right,” Gardner said. “I knew you were here, of course. I suppose you’re getting in touch with me about the matter of your early arrival.”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Gardner frowned suspiciously. The plan called for Archer to be on the planet’s northernmost continent, a good thousand miles from here, but he had made a local call. Something must be very wrong.

“Where are you now?” Gardner asked.

“I’m at the spaceport. I’ve just checked through customs, and—”

“What? But your assignment from the Company specified that—”

“I know, Mr. Gardner,” Archer cut in with uncharacteristic sharpness. “But there’s been a slight alteration in schedule. I’ll have to see you immediately. I want to talk privately with you before we go ahead with anything that’s been planned.”

Gardner tensed. He said, “All right, I suppose. How soon can you be here?”

“Within the hour.”

“I’ll be expecting you,” Gardner said.

About forty-five minutes later, Gardner opened his door in response to a sharp triple knock, and admitted Archer. Archer was taller and a little leaner than Gardner had anticipated, but otherwise the man had a curiously nondescript quality that Gardner found morbidly fascinating. Archer was a blank, a cipher, a nothing.

Once inside the door, Archer looked quickly all around the room, noting the sonic generator in its place on the dresser, the pouch of jewels, the drinking-glass with its murky little residue of khall. Then he gestured to the doorseal that Gardner had replaced on the inside of the door.

“Do we need that here?”

“It protects us,” Gardner said. “I keep it up all the time.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d remove it while I’m here,” Archer said. He shivered lightly and looked shame-faced. “It’s… ah—a sort of phobia of mine. Modified claustro, you see.”

Gardner shrugged. “I guess we’ll be safe enough in here without it.”

He hid the generator and the jewel pouch carefully in the closet, then removed the seal from the room door and affixed it over the closet door. Archer’s request struck him as curious; the man seemed too ordinary, too washed-out. to have any Dhobias. But it was his right as a guest to ask for the seal’s removal, and Gardner saw no point in insisting on keeping it there.

“I’d offer you a drink,” Gardner said, “but there isn’t any left.”

Archer flicked a glance at the drinking glass on the table. He said softly, “You needn’t worry. I never touch alcohol.”

“You’re a wise man,” Gardner said. He leaned forward, “Now, then. You’ve arrived a week early. May I ask how come? Also why you’re here, instead of at your assigned post?”

“May I speak freely in here about the nature of… ah… the project?” Archer asked, eyeing the dirty walls furtively.

“If you must,” said Gardner. “I’ve checked for spy devices. This room’s safe, unless there are some ears in the hallway. Wait.”

He rose and rapidly crossed the room, yanking the door open. The corridor outside was deserted. And there had not been time for any eavesdroppers outside the door to have hidden themselves.

Gardner closed the door. “It looks clear. Say what you want to say.”

Archer folded his legs and tapped the suitcase he had carried with him.

“My generator is in here. Yours, I think, is in that closet. Are all five members of the team here on Lurion now?”

“Look at your indicator band!” Gardner said, surprised at the question.

“Of course.” Archer laughed hollowly. “All five are here, aren’t they? Now, my instructions from Earth Central require me to have a full recapitulation of the nature of our mission from your lips before we can act.”

“What the hell for?” Gardner asked, bristling. “Just to give my mouth some exercise?”

Archer smiled apologetically, holding up one hand to stay Gardner’s outburst. “As, pardon me, a check on your stability.”

“What?”

“Karnes has had some misgivings about you. The computer has been called into use again. It revealed that your attitude was likely to deteriorate progressively, and that if we waited the allotted three weeks of the project, the probability was high that you would no longer be capable of carrying out your part.”

Gardner’s jaws tightened. What Archer was saying cut deep. “So you were sent early because they wanted to get the project taken care of before I blow my trolley completely, eh?”

Archer shrugged. “It was thought advisable to speed up (he schedule. And now I must have a complete verification of your comprehension of the project.”

Still simmering, although everything Archer had said so far had the ring of truth, Gardner muttered, “What do you want me to tell you?”

“A recapitulation of the nature of our mission,” Archer said.

“Okay. Here’s your summary: we’ve been sent here as a team with the assignment”—Gardner lowered his voice—“of destroying Lurion. It takes five of us to do it, each equipped with a sonic generator that will set up a resonating vibratory pattern when tuned in at the proper geographic locality. I’m in charge.”

“Who picked you for the job?”

“Karnes. Chief of Security at Earth Central. I was picked with the aid of the computer, of course.”

Archer nodded. As if rehearsing a catechism, he asked, “And why is it considered necessary to destroy Lurion?”

“Computer prognostics have it that militaristic forces on Lurion will organize and launch a destructive attack on Earth some time within the next two generations or so. We have to strike first.”

Archer sat back, smiling quietly. “All right. You’ve got it all down well enough. Just one thing remains to be settled.”

“Which is?”

“Are you willing to carry out your share of the assignment?”

Gardner was silent a moment, staring at the bland face opposite him. He moistened his lips.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I’m ready and willing.”

“Okay, then. I guess we can proceed.”

“I’ve passed the test?”

“You have. And now you’re in charge again. When’s the event due to take place?”

“As soon as you get up north where you belong,” Gardner said. “There’s no other reason for delay, now. Give me a call when you reach your assigned position, and I’ll transmit the initiating signal.” Gardner realized now that he had no more doubts, no hesitation whatever about bringing the project to its culmination.

“Very well, then. Now that we’ve got everything cleared up, I’ll leave at once,” Archer said. He rose, tugging his jacket-snaps together and sealing them. Gardner watched him, brows furrowed.

The visi-screen chimed again, the long-distance chime this time.

Gardner activated it and a round, bearded face appeared; it was that of Kully Leopold, the only member of the team Gardner had yet to hear from.

“I guess I’ll be going now,” Archer said, a little hurriedly.

“Stick around,” Gardner told him. “Let’s both hear what our friend Leopold has to say.” He returned his attention to the visi-screen. “You are Kully Leopold, aren’t you?”

“That’s right. And I wanted to find out whether there’s been any change in—Heyl He’s leaving!”

Gardner whirled and was surprised to see Damon Archer, suitcase in hand, fumbling annoyedly with the intricate Lurioni doorlatch. A’ number of seemingly irrelevant but actually interrelated facts suddenly fit themselves together in Gardner’s mind. -

“Where are you going, Archer?” he demanded.

“I’m—” Archer got the door open at last and, without bothering to finish the sentence, started to slip out.