"I am not a ruling voice."
"Prevail upon them."
"It is not my place. Besides, you do not understand."
"I understand this!" exploded Hotang Lu. "You are invaded. You will be
conquered. You will join the slaves of the Loard-vogh. They will strip
you from your homes and make you work for them. You will be driven and
killed, for they have no compassion. They have no need of frugality in
slaves. Terra will die."
"It is not yet time."
"Your judgment is faulty!" shouted Hotang Lu.
He hurled himself from the house and into his tiny spacecraft. He
paused for only an instant to view the grave of Toralen Ki on the broad
green lawn, and then he drove upward in superdrive. His size and his
speed got him through, and Hotang Lu headed for Tlembo--alone and a
beaten man.
* * * * *
Lindoo picked up the communicator and spoke to the operator. The
connection beamed across the light-years and found Vorgan.
"Lord of All, it is going well."
"Give me the details. I was afraid of their secret weapon."
"Lord of All, the phrase 'secret weapon' is an old Solarian trick. It
is meaningless."
"Go on."
"We landed on the isthmus that connects the two areas of land on the
Second Hemisphere of Terra. The going was very hard, Vorgan. They drew
power out of their sun like a torrent and we caught it all. It was
terrible, and it was glorious. Our brave men died like flies--and not
even the rock itself could stand against the energy turned loose. But
we outnumbered them. We invaded again and again, and divided their
power. Now we are screening the sun to run down their power intake. The
globe expands, and we are holding most of the southern Land Area. From
the northern pole, an invasion circle is spreading to meet the one on
the isthmus."
"The other planets?"
"All taken."
"Terra is about through," breathed Vorgan.
"They are."
"I was deeply afraid," admitted Vorgan. "They are a vicious threat."
"Once conquered, though, they will be most useful."
"Yes, indeed. A race with the will to live is far superior to a race
with a will like a bunch of cattle. They will rise high."
"Vorgan, you may have my throat for this, but I feel that it is a shame
that we could not have them as equals."
"That would never work."
"I know it wouldn't. But it is a shame. I feared the landing here,
Vorgan. The place is rife with spores, fungi, and bacterial death. But
their weapons scoured the area."
"The fools."
"I know--but we are safe now. Terra is conquered."
"Then as soon as possible, bring me the ones I want."
"Lord of All, you will have them."
* * * * *
The air above Terra grew less turbulent, the energy died. Loard-vogh
ships found less opposition as they landed at will on the former Planet
of Terror. By hundreds and by thousands they landed--and by thousands
they died as they tried to flip back their helmets and breathe the
air of Terra. They turned black, they fell down, and the growths of
ravaging microscopic life raced and built into horrid green mold and
whispy hair as the growths of fungus found absolutely no opposition.
But with better direction, the Loard-vogh roamed the planet without
death, though fungus-spores drifted freely. Their suits grew cultures,
and the lubricants teemed with growing life--and if the inhabitant
stayed too long in the suit, he died as fungi grew in the lubricant
and was carried inside of the suit by mere action.
Air-tight to seventy pounds they were, those spacesuits. Seventy pounds
inside or outside--and yet the insidious growths slipped inside and
killed them.
But their numbers! As they died, so they were replaced. And the
roadways thundered to the treads of their portables; the sky roared
with the passing of their planes; and the cities echoed and re-echoed
to the tramp of their feet. The sky was dark with their light spacers,
landing, and the air was roiled mechanically with the landing craft
that dropped from the spacecraft in never-ending streams.
Lindoo, arrayed as a conquering hero of the Loard-vogh should, awaited
in the grand spacecraft of the Loard-vogh at Panama. The area had been
scourged by fire and by sheer energy. Yet the tropical climate seemed
to spawn trouble for the Loard-vogh.
Behind a triple sheet of reflectionless glass, Lindoo sat, outwardly
triumphant, but inwardly afraid. He hoped that the powerful, color-less
antiseptic mixtures between the sheets of glass would keep him safe.
Hurled in to the other side of the room were Kennebec and his daughter.
Thompson followed, and Lane and Downing were hurled in lastly. They
stood up defiantly.