II

The Tri-di film came to an end and the Council Chamber's soft

fluorescents picked up in strength. For a moment the members of Lorle

Sector's High Council were stunned and bewildered at what they had seen.

Captain Glayne waited patiently for the explosion which he knew would

come. For about the tenth time that morning he fervently cursed all

civilians. Not even the valiant efforts of Chairman Dell Thorder could

keep them in check. A vast wave of irritation filled him as he listened

to the piercing squeak of a fat Councilor named Trask.

"It will mean war, I say--and we haven't had a war involving Terra for

seventy years. Lorle Sector must remain neutral--especially if Delb

Sector has weapons which can crush super Galactic battleships. Now I

say," he squeaked, oblivious of the fact that no one was paying any

attention, "that we must request Captain Glayne to leave immediately

because his presence might be deemed an overt act by our friends, the

Delbans. True, the Stellar Guardians--"

He was suddenly cut off by the staccato thunder of Dell Thorder's

gavel. The chairman's thin, ascetic face wore a worried expression as

his eyes swept the now silent Council. Of them all, he was the only

man Glayne admired. For thirty years he had maneuvered the nine-planet

Lorle Sector through the treacherous shoals of Combine politics and

never once had the cry of "boss" or "dictator" seriously been raised

against him.

"I must confess," he began quietly, "that I do not myself understand

fully the implications of this situation. I do know that the fact that

Imperial Terra has lost two large battleships is inconsequential. The

real point is that the Terran Combine is facing imminent destruction at

the hands of Gort Bro-Doral and his Delban Empire. Because we are Delb

Sector's nearest neighbor, we may expect the first blow to fall on us.

Since it is a known fact that the Intelligence Service of the Stellar

Guardians is the finest in the galaxy, I have sent for Captain Glayne

to explain certain of the technical aspects of the new Delban weapon in

order that we may determine what action to take."

Thorder silently gestured to Glayne who arose and faced the hostile

stares of the councilors. Their unexpressed antipathy was amusing

rather than irritating. The meager little navy that Lorle Sector did

possess drained away funds that could otherwise be used in their pork

barrel. However, they all had something to worry about which Thorder

hadn't mentioned. The Revolution which had smashed the Delb-Lorle Axis

thirty years before had made Gort Bro-Doral a ruthless enemy who would

not rest until his ships had utterly destroyed the Lorle cities in

retaliation. So far they had depended upon Imperial Terra to support

them against the Bro's passionate desire for power. But now the Terran

navy was helpless and Lorle was in a desperate plight.

"What Dell Thorder told you is true," he began in a firm, clear voice.

"Unfortunately it is an understatement because it implies that there

is a possibility of discovering a counter-weapon to offset that of the

Delbans. Such is not the case.

"For a long time we have been prone to think in terms of optimum sizes

for warships. We were accustomed to believe that we had reached the

pinnacle of development in destructive weapons. The fatal radiations of

atomic generators and converters make it necessary to divert a part of

the power into shields. These shields are limited in size by the ship

size, and the ship size in turn is limited by the size of its power

plant. But there is a point of diminishing returns--that is, we cannot

build ships larger than the Galactic class battleships without losing

efficiency. So for a long time we have believed that there was a limit

to the amount of power available in any given class of warship.

"Unfortunately this no longer applies for the Delbans. As you have just

seen on the tri-di film obtained by Stellar Guardian Intelligence, a

single Stellar cruiser engaged and destroyed two Terran Galactics.

This means, as Chairman Thorder has suggested, that the entire fleet

strength of the nine hundred Sectors of the Terran Combine is now quite

helpless against the Delban Grand Fleet."

Glayne paused for a moment. In spite of the room's air conditioning,

many of the Councilors were mopping their faces anxiously. The one

called Trask was chewing his lower lip nervously, not liking a bit what

the tall Guardian officer had to say. Glayne felt a twinge of sympathy

for his three hundred and fifty million constituents.

"The crux of the whole problem is the source of this new Delban power.

Experts in our organization are absolutely certain that they are

using broadcast power, but this information is based on the tri-di

film you have seen which our agents have stolen from the Terran

Admiralty Office at Lunaport. It may be a fake, but that is hardly

likely. The implications of broadcast power are so tremendous as to

defy reason. Even under the best laboratory conditions the power lost

in transmission makes it impractical. Consequently any source which

produces energies capable of smashing two Terran Galactic battleships

at perhaps stellar distances is vast beyond conjecture. As incredible

as this sounds, we believe that the Delbans have it. As to its precise

nature, we are still in the dark. However, the Stellar Guardians, at

least, are in a position to investigate."

Dell Thorder cleared his throat at this point and Glayne stopped.

"You see our position," said the weary Chairman. "Almost any

countermeasure we attempt can be interpreted as an overt act by

Bro-Doral. Hence any action on our part will make our ruin sooner

instead of later. However, there is one thin possibility and that is

Captain Glayne. It is true that he is a mercenary belonging to the

Stellar Guardians. But Kairn's Intelligence vouches for him absolutely

and I am informed that he is as competent as any man in the Lorle Fleet.

"Because of the peculiar nature of the Stellar Guardian organization,

he can carry out investigations where any such move on our part would

be suicidal. In my opinion, our only possible chance is to employ him

in this capacity to locate the Delban power transmitter--if one exists.

It is possible that an all-out attack with all the units we can muster

will succeed in destroying it."

As Thorder finished, Glayne took a deep breath. He stood motionless

by the immense circular table. He knew that the Councilors, like all

small planet men, were impressed with his great shoulders and their

suggestion of tremendous physical strength. But if they knew what

torment he had to endure under high driver thrust as a result of his

great size, they wouldn't be so impressed.

Dell Thorder coughed. "Captain Glayne, would you mind stepping into the

outer room while we take a vote? We will inform you directly."

* * * * *

Glayne nodded silently and left the Chamber. Disregarding the

anteroom's soft chairs, he stood against the wall, waiting. His

space-tanned face hardened as he looked thoughtfully from the glassene

window at the jewel-like city of Lorle Capital, a dazzling white under

the noon sun. Mentally he pictured the sleek Delban cruisers flashing

overhead in fast orbits, pouring phenomenal torrents of energy into

the pathetic shield the city would attempt to set up. The Lorle High

Council would trust him. In the end, even Trask would. They were all

rabbits looking around desperately for someone to defend them. They

would hire him; they would pat him on the back and shake his hand; they

would make him solemnly swear the Guardian Oath to struggle against all

their enemies. And Glayne would promise to do all of these things.

But he would lie.

He would do none of these things. Instead he would do all in his power

to bring war to Lorle. He would commit an overt act against the Delbans

and they would cry for Lorle blood. Their fast, sleek ships would deal

out death and destruction to the very cities which he would swear ever

so solemnly to defend to his last breath. With a coldly objective part

of his mind he marveled at the consummate treachery he would perform.

But another part of his mind was aghast. He was unable to suppress

the bitter waves of remorse that filled him. Again he remembered the

serious, heavy-jowled face of Garstow, Grand Admiral of the Stellar

Guardians. In the Dorleb Headquarters, only forty hours before, Garstow

had said: "Glayne, we need time. Some Sector must be thrown to the

wolves. While the Delbans are occupied with that unfortunate Sector, we

will have time to unravel their broadcast scramblers, build antennae of

our own, and perhaps even locate their power transmitter. The Policy

Organ has decided upon Lorle Sector. And it has decided that you,

Glayne, are the man for the job."

Glayne had listened in stunned silence to Garstow. A protest rose

automatically to his lips but he had crushed it back with a click

of his booted heels. And now here he was in Lorle Capital with his

Stellar class cruiser _Algol_ ready for action. When the fat men with

rabbit eyes emerged from the Council Chamber and empowered him to work

for them, he would be ready to move. A sudden raid on Delban space

commerce, an energy bomb hurtling into a Delban city from a stolen

Lorle warship--any one of a dozen expedients would have the ruthless

Gort Bro-Doral screaming down on the helpless cities of Lorle.

As he stared at the afternoon brilliance of Lorle Capital he realized

that his treachery was an ironic manifestation of a greater loyalty.

People forgot that the Stellar Guardians were dedicated to the ideal

of human progress. The great mercenary organization recognized the

inevitability of war and determined that wars should be fought

according to rules. But the Delbans were now in a position to flout all

rules and destroy all human progress. Hence all rules were forgotten

and ruthless treachery was the order of the day as every resource was

exploited to crush Gort Bro-Doral and his Delban Empire.

Then the door of the Council Chamber opened and Dell Thorder stepped

into the anteroom. He faced Glayne silently for a moment, lines of

weariness etched in his tired, old face.

Then he thrust out his hand and said simply: "We wish you the best of

luck, Glayne."

The Guardian Captain took the outstretched hand and almost winced

at the trust he saw in Thorder's eyes. The weight of the crushing

responsibility bowed down the Chairman's frail shoulders, but he seemed

to burn with an indomitable determination to defend his people. He was

not a rabbit but a warrior. And Glayne was going to betray him.

"I'll do my best," he said in quick, husky tones.

He felt like a swine as he closed the door behind him.