"Barak," I repeated foolishly. "Barak. Yes, I _am_ Barak. I--how did I
get here? Things are still so shadowy--but I'm beginning to recollect--"
"Try," she begged. "Try hard. It's the only way you can save yourself.
Let me remind you; this world called Dondromogon was settled long ago
by adventurers. For centuries their descendants built up a luxurious
way of living. Messages filtered back to the old home planet--Earth, in
the Solar System--"
"I remember that much," I told her. "Something about a group of chiefs
growing fat on the labor of the community, and killing those who
threatened to rival them?"
"Yes. Calling those deaths necessary for the good of the race, but
preserving really the soft and easily ruled of the race. And an
expedition was sent, to point out that Dondromogon really was a colony
of Mother Earth. Gederr received the Newcomers with false welcome, and
tried to have them assassinated. But reinforcements arrived, and the
war goes on--"
Again I did not let her finish. "And Gederr has been deceiving his
followers, by the line of talk I heard from him! That the Newcomers
are not rescuers or dealers of justice, but invaders and destroyers! I
remember that, too!"
"Do you remember yourself?" she demanded. "Barak, the wonder warrior,
who met the enemy by twos and threes, and conquered them like flies,
like puffs of wind? Barak, mighty in battle, who offered to fight the
whole Council of Dondromogon single-handed? Who led one digging assault
after another, and who fell only to a stupid trick?"
"I don't remember that last," I confessed. "It is in my mind that I was
somewhat rash, and had skill and luck enough to live in spite of my
rashness, through several combats."
"No time for modesty!" she chided me, and smiled despite the
desperation of our plight. "You were a natural engine of warfare,
Barak. And once you pursued your retreating adversaries far--too
far--until it was Gederr himself who squirted anaesthetic gas upon you
and felled you, senseless. Then they gathered around you, like carrion
feeders, that whole Council, to see how they could profit best. And
Gederr and Elonie, with Sporr's help, made the decision."
Her eyes held mine earnestly. "As you began to revive, with your wits
still unguarded and baffled, Sporr and Elonie hypnotized you. They both
know how to do that--"
"I fought off Elonie's hypnotism last night," I remembered.
"Because your knowledge of its danger remained in your subconscious.
After that, you were placed outside--naked, without memory or
knowledge. And a speaking device brought what would sound like a
cosmic voice of destiny. After that, all was prepared to draw you into
their plot as a tool."
I groaned. It had been as simple and raw as all that. "But the legend
of Yandro?" I asked.
She waved it aside. "Someone named Yandro did exist, in the old days
when Dondromogon was not Council-ridden. When he died, it was suggested
that he would return again in time of need. Many a time did Gederr
inspire some better-than-ordinary fighting man to face you, Barak, by
telling him that the soul of Yandro had wakened in him. But when you
fell into their hands and they decided to use you, they twisted the
legend to suit your coming--even with a picture and your own thumb
print to help convince you." She sighed. "Very few had seen your
capture. Only Rohbar and the two guards you saw die would recognize
you. Those three men, and myself, were in the farce."
* * * * *
"You!" I said, and gazed at her. That lost former life was creeping
back, like a dream becoming plain and fusing into reality.
"You, Doriza! I--remember you--"
"You should," she murmured, pink-cheeked. "We used to say kind things
to each other. With the Newcomers--remember?"
"You were one of us--a year ago! A technician in the synthetics
department! But you vanished--and now you're here! Why?"
"I--I--oh, don't ask me that!"
I clutched her elbow, so fiercely that she whimpered. "Did you turn
traitor? Answer me, Doriza!"
"You hurt me--don't--Barak, before you call me a traitor, answer this.
Are you wholly for destruction of this people of Dondromogon? Haven't
you changed?"
"Why--why--" And I paused. "I want to crush the Council, but the
people--"
"Barak, I want to help them, too! The people--and you, Barak!" She
looked at me beseechingly. "Can't you trust me?"
My heart flopped over and over, like a falling leaf, but I could not
steel myself against her. "You were sweet once, Doriza, though you went
away from me." As if by long practice, my arm encircled her.
"Believe me, I'm not a traitor," she whispered against my shoulder. "I
want to save you--and others--and myself--"
I shook my head. "They want to kill you. They shan't. Let's defend
ourselves."
For answer, she pointed to the door. A quiet humming sounded. I saw
that a panel bulged and vibrated.
"Disintegrator," she whispered in my ear.
I thrust her into a corner and moved close to the door-jamb. A moment
later the rayed panel fell away in flakes, and a man stepped through,
the officer who had tried to arrest Doriza.
I clutched the wrist of the hand that held his disintegrator pistol,
and almost tore his head off with an uppercut. He went down, and
Doriza caught up his weapon as it fell. There was a spatter of sparks
as someone fired through the hole with electro-automatic pellets, but
already Doriza was using the ray to knock a lock from a door beyond.
"One side," I heard Gederr growl from the corridor. "I have a
disintegrator, too. I'll open a hole too big for him to defend!"
But we had hurried through the door Doriza opened. Beyond was a
vehicle, the same that had carried us earlier in the day. "In," she
said, took the controls.
We rumbled away, not daring to speed and thus attract too much
attention. Doriza drove us toward the point where conflict was being
centered, and at a deserted stretch of the tunnelway braked us to a
halt.
"We must know what they're doing about us," she said, and began to tune
the televiso apparatus.
Figures leaped into view on the screen. I stared. Members of the
Council--I recognized them--were marshalled against a wall, as if for a
firing squad. And a firing squad faced them. Someone lifted a hand as
a signal. The line of soldiers lifted their electro-automatics. I saw
the play of sparks, heard the whip and thud of pellets. A form fell,
another, another.
"They're rebelling!" I cried. "Overthrowing the Council! Somehow," and
my heart sang wildly, "they know the truth!"