by Brian Hayles
"Do not forget, delegate Izlyr," complained Alpha Centauri, "that I have the right to veto any suggestions that are against the Federations better interests!"
"You will have that opportunity, I assure you," hissed the Martian warlord. "But you will probably think twice before using it."
Alpha Centauri swivelled its head in an attempt to see just how far behind were the Doctor and the Princess. Too far to hear Izlyr's suspiciously menacing remark, the hexapod noticed with a shudder. The Martian was not an easy person to get on with. It might be better to humour him a little, perhaps even to hint at concessions.
"It would be different if there were precedents for such a situation," trilled the nervous hexapod, "but there are not. We must consider all our options. We must not act rashly!"
"I am convinced of the value of reason," whispered Izlyr sardonically, "and I am sure you will see the matter our way ... eventually."
"Well of course," squeaked Alpha Centauri, trying to be cheerful, "I'm perfectly willing to listen to reason...."
"Good," coughed the Martian. "That will save us all a great deal of trouble."
A considerable way behind the delegates came the Doctor and Jo. She was still inclined to believe that Hepesh on his own represented little or no real threat to the work of the delegates committee, or the king's choice.
"Jo," insisted the Doctor patiently, "you really must take Hepesh seriously! Given the chance, he could still bring Peladon round to his way of thinking-if only to save the population of this planet from being wiped out!"
"But if that was to happen, Jo mused, "Hepesh would have won ... without a fight."
"Exactly! And Peladon will have lost!" snapped the Doctor. "I tell you, Hepesh will try anything!"
"Well, he can't accuse Izlyr of murder - there were witnesses," stated Jo firmly. "You and me, for a start - we saw what happened. Izlyr saved your life!"
The Doctor looked at her and smiled wryly. "You're forgetting something Jo, aren't you? Officially, we don't exist. We're nothing but a pair of impostors!"
Jo stopped, and pulled the Doctor to a halt. She glared angrily up into his surprised face. "Look - he didn't save your life just because you're supposed to be the grand Chairman Delegate! It was you as a person!"
"And supposing the real Earth Delegate arrives?" demanded the Doctor. "Who's going to accept my word then?"
Jo's anger at what she saw as the Doctor's vanity boiled over. But even as she spoke, he was looking past her towards the alcove nearby which only added to her feelings of irritation. "Honestly! What with you playing the Grand Ambassador, Alpha Centauri upstaging every one with those ridiculous tentacles, and Peladon acting like a wet fish-someone ought to take the lot of you and bang your heads together!" She paused for breath. "You're not even listening!"
"So that's what Grun was trying to say!" exclaimed the Doctor furiously.
"What are you talking about?" asked Jo, trying to see what it was that the Doctor was so interested in. There wasn't anything - just an empty alcove and a rotten old tapestry, all rumpled up.
Taking her by the elbow, the Doctor urged her after Izlyr and Ssorg. "Now, Jo ... you go ahead. Help Izlyr to work on old Alpha Centauri ..." He gave her one of his most charming smiles and, with a small shove, propelled her along the corridor away from him. "Once you've got the chap on our side, tell Peladon!"
Half-heartedly, Jo moved after the three aliens, who were now well ahead. She looked to see where they'd got to, speaking to the Doctor as she looked away from him.
"But I don't understand. What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to see a man about a door," came the reply. But when she turned to ask him what he meant by such a idiotic remark, the Doctor had vanished.
The last details of Hepesh's plan were being spelled out to the leader of the crack unit that Hepesh had specially selected for the most difficult task: the taking of the king.
"My men are armed and ready, my Lord Hepesh, reported the tense-faced captain. Neither he nor Hepesh saw the burly shadow of Grun slip into the deeper darkness of the shrine and hide there, listening.
"Thank you, captain," acknowledged the High Priest. "Understand that no harm must come to the king. He is to be taken prisoner with as little force as necessary."
"Yes, my lord," replied the captain. "But his personal bodyguard?"
"You need show no mercy towards them. They will not regard you or your men as friends . ."
The captain smiled, his face cruel. "My men fight to kill, my lord. They are the best."
In the shadows, Grun's face tightened in cold anger. Once, every soldier had been the king's man, totally dedicated to his cause and comrade to every soldier. This man Hepesh had turned them against each other as though they were each other's enemies! "Now, Captain," continued Hepesh, "at the moment we storm the throne room, two men must ignore the fighting and move immediately to seize the king. They must be-" The High Priest stopped in mid-speech as Grun's mighty form stepped forward from the shadows. At first the captain and Hepesh, elated with the imminent success of their plan, assumed Grun to be at one with them. The sharp grate of his sword being drawn from its scabbard soon told them otherwise.
"Grun," Hepesh exclaimed, extending his ringed hand in greeting, "you have chosen well! I shall not-" It was then he saw the glint of the naked sword, and knew that he was closer to death than he had ever before been. The captain stood between Hepesh and Grun and spun about at Hepesh's cry of warning, his sword at the ready.
"Captain-look out!"
The captain, like all soldiers in the citadel, knew Grun to be the greatest of the King"s" warriors, but he was no coward. With a swift lunge, he attacked. Over the ring of blade on blade, it was the High Priests voice that called: "Guards! To me!" The captain, brave as he was, stood little chance against Grun's strength and skill. With a sweeping, backhanded stroke, the King's Champion severed the tendons of the captain's sword arm. Before the sword had fallen to the ground, the follow-up lunge to the throat had ended the captain's life. Grun turned to find the enemy that he had come for - but Hepesh knew Grun's intent, and had slipped into the shadows by the door. Before Grun could locate him, the sound of armed men behind him made Grun turn. Facing him were two more of Hepesh's picked commandos. At the sight of Grun, they faltered-but had no other choice but to fight for their lives. Handling two opponents with arrogant ease, Grun brought one down with a straight-armed stab to the chest - that very move, however, left him blind to the figure of Hepesh, who, coming in behind him, struck the great warrior on his unprotected head with a massive stone from the altar footing. Without a sound, Grun toppled to the ground, and lay there utterly still.
Without glancing at the fallen body, Hepesh stepped over Grun, and moved out to the tunnel. "Come!" he called to the waiting commandos. "It is time! The hour of Aggedor is at hand."
The Battle for the Palace
Jo looked at the alien delegates impatiently. Splitting hairs was getting them nowhere. "This discussion's gone on long enough," she said. "What about taking a vote?"
Alpha Centauri immediately raised several tentacles in protest. This was normal procedure on intergalactic civil service committee. A decision too quickly arrived at aroused suspicion. A certain degree of niggling was needed to give respectability to the motion under discussion.
"I object!" shrilled the hexapod formally. But before the objection could be elaborated, Jo turned on Alpha Centauri with a frown of irritation.
"And I object to your stupid objections!" she snapped. "You've done nothing but split hairs and raise points of order since we started!"
"Point of order! The speaker is not an official member of this committee."
"Whose side are you on?" exclaimed Jo. "While you're babbling away, people could be getting killed!"
"Decisions can only be arrived at by properly performed democratic methods," insisted Alpha Centauri. "If you would care to inspect the appropriate book of rules..."
"Will you make up yo
ur mind!" shouted Jo.
There was a short silence. Alpha Centauri turned a delicate shade of blue, and gave a slow blink of its single watery eye. It didn't like being shouted at.
"The motion has to be put in the proper manner," piped Alpha Centauri plaintively. "Anger isn't at all necessary."
"The motion is that this Committee of Assessment urges the Federation to support King Peladon in every way possible in bringing peace to this troubled planet," hissed the Martian warlord. "Those in favour?" Both he and Ssorg raised their fists - at the same time looking at their quivering and reluctant colleague.. Under their grim gaze, a frail blue tentacle wavered upwards.
"Carried unanimously," whispered Izlyr, triumphantly.
"Thank goodness for that," said Jo, adding hastily, "A very wise decision, Alpha Centauri. Well done!"
"I trust so, Princess," came the miserable reply. "But, for the record, my agreement is registered under protest. I accept no responsibility!"
"Protest noted," observed Izlyr. "The next step is to inform the Federation and request immediate technical assistance. Perhaps, Alpha Centauri, as senior civil servant -"
"My apologies," twittered the hexapod, "but that will not be possible."
Izlyr rose to his feet. The impassiveness of his warrior mask, although showing no feelings, made him appear coldly threatening. Alpha Centauri flinched involuntarily. "Are you refusing to put into operation a decision arrived at without dissent?" the Martian demanded.
The hexapod, under the gaze of its three angry companions, flushed and flowed through several shades of blue into green and back again before giving its halting answer. "It isn't like that at all. My reason is technical, not personal. My surface-to-spaceship communicator is not functioning. I can do nothing with it ... "
"That sounds like a coward's excuse," hissed Izlyr.
"I protest - I mean, it is nothing of the sort," cried Alpha Centauri. "I am not a technically trained operator: I do not know the cause, but there is obviously a serious malfunction."
"Then we will use our own system," whispered Izlyr. "It is without doubt technically superior to yours. And while Ssorg makes contact with our spacecraft, I will personally inspect this communicator." The warlord moved to the door, and added darkly. "We do not want a repeat of the trick that incapacitated Arcturus..."
Jo watched the two Martians leave. She then turned back to Alpha Centauri and frowned. "Why didn't you mention that you'd lost contact with your ship? It might've been important."
"I have had no reason to make a report until the combat ceremony," replied Alpha Centauri. "Since then, so many things have happened, I gave no thought to the matter. In fact, I feel totally confused!"
They were suddenly aware that Ssorg was standing in the doorway. He said nothing - but in his hands was a compact piece of apparatus. It was hopelessly smashed.
"What has happened!" exclaimed Alpha Centauri, flustering its way towards Ssorg. Almost immediately, Izlyr entered and seeing the broken unit in Ssorg's hands, whirled to face the others.
"Sabotage!" he whispered fiercely. "Our own communicator has been destroyed - and yours, Alpha Centauri, failed because it was deliberately tampered with!"
"Then we're completely cut off!" cried Jo. As the others looked at her she explained quickly, "Our own unit was badly damaged when we crashed."
"Without our communicators, we cannot return to our spacecraft!" wailed Alpha Centauri.
Izlyr turned to Jo. "Princess, is there no other way that you or the Doctor can communicate with your spaceship?"
"Spaceship ..." repeated Jo, blankly, then realised that unlike Izlyr and Alpha Centauri, there wasn't an Earth spaceship orbiting the planet in wait for her and the Doctor! "Er ... no - I'm afraid there isn't." she said quickly, then hastily clarified the statement. "I mean there isn't another way of making contact."
"That is a pity," hissed Izlyr. "Particularly in view of the special arrangements that will undoubtedly have to be made."
Jo looked at the Martian, her face puzzled. "I don't quite understand, she said. "What arrangements?"
"For your forthcoming wedding to King Peladon," answered Izlyr. "Admit that is the purpose of your visit."
The burst of laughter that followed Jo's first look of alarm took the three aliens by surprise.. Surely a royal engagement was a dignified matter? "I'm sorry to disappoint you," bubbled Jo, controlling her fit of giggles with difficulty, "but a marriage has not been arranged. To coin a phrase, were just good friends ... hardly that, even."
"But it would have made a splendid climax to the king's coronation!" cried Alpha Centauri.
"Well, you can forget it," exclaimed Jo. "And anyway, before we have a coronation, we have to have a king. Are you going to help Peladon or not?"
"Without contact with our spacecraft, we are trapped," observed Izlyr. "We can hardly take the offensive, with only three operative agents." He threw a brief look at the quivering hexapod, and explained, "I do not include you, Alpha Centauri. You are a natural pacifist, and your habitual hysteria will do nothing for our morale."
"Two," corrected Ssorg. "The Doctor is not with us, Lord Izlyr."
"We need him. Where is he?" demanded the warlord, turning to Jo. "He must be told that we are trapped!"
"I don't know where he is. I think he was going to find Grun ... but he didn't tell me why."
Alpha Centauri was becoming agitated again.
"There's no escape!" the hexapod cried, "And now, the Doctor has vanished. I knew something like this would happen."
Jo spoke to the jittery alien firmly but kindly. "Centauri, stop it at once. Nothing has happened yet. We're perfectly safe here in the citadel - and they won't dare attack Federation delegates."
"But these people are barbarians!" shrilled the deep blue hexapod. "And Hepesh hates us . . We are at his mercy!"
A military situation was one which Izlyr could understand instinctively, and he spoke with cold precision. "As hostages, we would be of great value to Hepesh."
"That'd just about finish everything!" exclaimed Jo.
"Agreed," nodded Izlyr. "We must take suitable precautions. Let us hope we do not have to put them into operation."
The Royal Guards, like Grun, were hand-picked for their total loyalty to the king, and the excellence of their strength and ability as warriors. Their regimental motif, identical on helmet, breastplate, and the proud pennants that they paraded on ceremonial occasions, was the head of Aggedor in profile surmounted by a crown. Their motto read: the king above all. Traitors would be granted no mercy. But the last persons they expected to see disloyal to the king were Hepesh and the Commander of the Temple Guard. Rumours were flying thick and fast around the barrack room, but no one had yet thought fit to confirm that Hepesh was the declared enemy of the king. Peladon himself had held this order of the day back until he knew for certain where he stood with the Federation. Until they were told otherwise, the Royal Guard accepted Hepesh as High Priest and Chancellor; out of favour, perhaps, but still officially in power. That trust was soon to be bitterly betrayed.
Hepesh's knowledge of the secret ways of the citadel was of the greatest value to his swift campaign. He had denied all knowledge of the secret tunnels to the king because that knowledge was the key to the rebellion. Now, that key was being put to use. The tunnels beneath the citadel had gained them a silent access to the temple. From there, a select handful of men had made their way through the narrow passages which were set between the massive stone walls. Eventually, they had reached the balcony overlooking the main throne room doors, and there they waited for their rebellious lord, Hepesh, to make the next move. They hadn't long to wait. Hepesh and his guard commander approached the throne room, pretending to be oblivious of the guards on duty there. Whatever it was they were discussing so seriously brought them to a halt. Hepesh bowed his head and seemed to listen intently to what his guard commander had to say. In fact, he was glancing furtively upwards to the balcony over the heads of the impassive Royal
Guards. Yes, the commando scouts were there, ready and waiting. But, as he thought, the Royal Guards, half hidden as they were by the ledge of the balcony, were not an easy target. They would have to be brought forward for an attack to be properly effective. There must be no sounds of fighting before the throne room doors were open.
Hepesh solved the problem with typical directness. Turning from his guard commander, he called to the two Royal Guards. At his voice, they came to attention. In accordance with the customary method of addressing a person of high rank, they moved a full pace forward.
"You men-" called Hepesh, "come here at once!"
The step forward that the Royal Guards took gave the commandos above the chance they needed. A short leap and they were on their prey, ruthlessly using their short swords to silence the guards forever. The way to the throne room was now open and unguarded. But Hepesh waited. At his signal, the main group of attackers assembled on either side of the great doors. The next move involved hoisting the two handpicked men who were to deal with the king onto the balcony. There, they would make their way down to the concealed entrance inside the throne room. The moment the doors smashed open, and the inner guards were engaged by the oncoming commandos, these two infiltrators would dash straight past the main conflict to the king-and hold him at sword point. Hepesh would do the rest. All was ready. At the command of the High Priest, the massive doors were thrown open.
As the great doors burst open, Peladon rose to his feet in surprise and alarm. He had seen Hepesh, his temple cloak barely hiding the light armour beneath, and, all about him his personal temple guards, evil and menacing in their familiar black helmets. His own Royal Guards reacted swiftly, forming a solid phalanx which blocked the way to the king. The fighting wedge formed by Hepesh's men was soon blunted, and they were soon reduced to desperate hand-to-hand skirmishes with the king's men. The king watched, amazed - yet with a touch of apprehension. For Grun was not with him, and Grun was the unconquerable defender of his royal master. The Kings fear was soon justified. Racing towards him, outflanking the Royal Guards which so valiantly defended the entrance, came two black-helmeted figures. Unarmed, the king faced certain death. But the sword points thrust towards him halted at a hair's breadth from his throat. Turning his head, he called out: "Hepesh-it is done! The king is ours!"