Vorgan frowned. "Why or how can one so small defend himself against one
of the Planet of Terror?"
"The Little Man is agile and the Terran is clumsy."
Lindoo nodded. "We may both curse and praise that. If the Terran were
less clumsy, he might well be more difficult for Kregar."
"Toralen Ki also has mental amplification."
Kregar's hands opened and closed convulsively. Once they clutched at a
space near his belt, but closed as though in futility--what he sought
was not there. He reached forward, and only Neckal's quick action in
turning Kregar around slightly prevented the Loard-vogh from clutching
a delicate adjustment of the instrument through which Kregar worked.
Lindoo smiled. "It is written that a good big man will always conquer a
good small man, my Lord of All."
"What lies between the Loard-vogh and the Planet of Terror?"
"Ten thousand light-leagues of space."
"A most dangerous spearhead--is it not?"
"It might be more than dangerous. To fight a war on many fronts is
death. To warn a thousand races between the Loard-vogh and Terra might
be the balance."
"Then we must hope," said Vorgan. "And only as a last resort will we
drive forward."
"Face the fact," smiled Lindoo. "Kregar has--will have soon--the Little
Man in his power. The cohort of the Little Man comes next. Dispose
of them and the Planet of Terror will never know what it missed, in
spite of the destruction of the suppressor. If nothing more than that
happens, we are still safe. The Extremes fight one another--or fought
one another. One or both of them may be dead. Grant the impossible and
assume that Kregar is not successful and that Toralen Ki and Hotang Lu
escape. Without the Extremes, releasing the mental torpor of the Planet
of Terror will be most difficult.
"Now," continued Lindoo, with a very superior smile, "we grant the
complete failure of our plans. All escape. Toralen Ki explains his
plan to the Extremes. Have you any idea of sheer rivalry? Then consider
your own attitude upon being asked to relinquish your identity to your
most bitter rival."
Vorgan nodded. "How simple it would have been to wipe out all Tlembans
so many hundreds of years ago instead of permitting those few to
escape. I curse Mangare and I think I will erect a statue to his
dishonor, that all Loard-vogh may spit at he who was not thorough."
* * * * *
Kregar's muscles tensed, wrapped him in knots, and his head jerked
to one side in a spasm of pain. His eyes opened, glazed. They stayed
open--wide and glassy.
Slowly he started, and with accelerated motion, he toppled to the
floor. His frame went into one spasm, and he curled convulsively over
his stomach. Then he stretched out straight and stiff.
"Dead," said Neckal, frantically.
"Dead?" echoed Lindoo.
"What happened?" asked Vorgan in a hollow voice.
"He failed."
"Failed?"
"How?"
"We may never know. But the failure was complete."
The Lord of All scowled. "Lindoo, plan the attack upon the Planet of
Terror!"
"Yes, Lord of All. We shall strike Terra as soon as our forces can be
deployed. It will take time, but we shall move with high speed."
"A word of caution, Lindoo. If they do not embark upon the Plan of the
Little Men, merely hold our spearhead force in everlasting readiness. I
dislike this attack, though our numbers permit it. I'd prefer to stay
closer to the Master Plan. But--if they change, attack!"
Vorgan returned to his throne room, to ascend his crystal seat. He
waved for the serf upon the floor to continue, and the man-at-arms
conveyed the Lord of All's desire because the serf still had his face
to the floor.