Mission: Earth Voyage of Vengeance

by Ron L. Hubbard

  "Oh, it is pretty," said the Countess Krak. "Nowhere near as lovely as Manco, of course, but very nice."

  "You think the planet is worth saving, then," said Heller.

  "Not at the cost of our marriage," said the Countess Krak. "These primitives drive me spinning. They get the simplest things wrong."

  "Oh, they're not all bad," said Heller.

  "Well, why can't they take care of their own planet? How is it my Jettero has to come along and work his fingers to the bone? It's not our planet. It's theirs. Why don't they do something effective?"

  "They're just a little deficient in technology, that's all," said Heller.

  "A little crazy, you mean. Those engineers in my microwave class at first didn't see anything wrong at all with letting somebody like Rockecenter suppress new developments so he could make money and stay in power. And psychology, why do they let their children be taught they have no souls and are just the victims of their emotions and can't control themselves? Admittedly, they're in bad hands, but why do these people stand for it?"

  "Part of their training," said Heller, "is that they can't do anything about it and, having seen the muzzle ends of some of their control forces, I can see how the people would feel that way. They're caught up in an 'agree or get shot.'"

  "Are we ever going to invade this planet?" said the Countess.

  "Oh, not for another hundred and eighty years if this mission succeeds. And by then they could be sailing very smoothly. It wouldn't be much of an invasion: more like an alliance. They'd simply join the Confederation. The danger is they could make the planet uninhabitable and the Grand Council would launch a shooting invasion now just to save the place. I don't want that to happen to them."

  "Well, I don't think we ever ought to touch them," said the Countess Krak. "Do you realize that a primitive culture like this can backfire on a higher level civilization? It could corrupt Voltar."

  "Oh, I think you're overstating it," said Heller. "What could these people possibly do to the Voltar Confederation?"

  "Plenty," said the Countess Krak. "Sexual perversion, trying people in the press, rotten courts, crazy suits, power attained through economic dominance by a few, psychology, psychiatry, drugs and more drugs. They're dangerous, Jettero. I believe we should leave them severely alone. Quarantine the place."

  "Oh, dear," said Heller. "You do seem out of sorts today."

  "I'm worried. I have an awful feeling something dreadful may happen to us. A sort of cold feeling like we're always being watched by somebody who means us no good."

  I quickly averted my eyes from the viewer. What she had said made my hair stand up on end. How had she guessed that that was exactly the case? Was she a witch or something? By the Gods, that woman would have to be gotten out of the way before much else could be done.

  "Look," said Heller, "we're making real progress. The spores project is working great and cleaning up the air. And just two days ago, Izzy got Chryster into production on gasless cars. Very shortly, with luck, we will have done everything we can do from the surface of the planet. Then I'll get the tug and we'll finish the job."

  I freaked. Gasless cars? That would ruin Rockecenter completely!

  And what did he intend to do with Tug One? Oh, Gods, this was much worse than I thought!

  I prayed fervently for some idea that would ruin this pair forever.

  "I'm sorry that I seem out of sorts," said the Countess Krak. "It is a lovely day and I don't want to spoil it for you."

  "Well, never mind," said Heller. "I have somebody you will enjoy meeting. Not all these inhabitants are bad."

  He swung off the highway abruptly and drove along a road that was hardly more than a trail. Shortly, the abandoned service station came in view.

  Chickens flew noisily out of the way of the Porsche and Heller brought it to a stop.

  The old blind woman came out of the house. She stood wiping her hands on her apron. "And how are you, nice young man?" she said. "I see you've brought your sweetheart today."

  How could she tell? Krak's footsteps? Her perfume?

  They had to go into the house and have a cup of coffee.

  "They paying your rent regular?" said Heller.

  "Oh, yes," said the old blind woman. "And it makes a big difference. Didn't you see I have three times as many chickens now? Quite prosperous."

  She and the Countess Krak chattered about nothing the way women do and after a bit Heller went out and opened the garage. There sat a battered jeep!

  I realized suddenly that during all the times I had not watched my viewers, he must have come up here. It made me nervous to think that he could have wandered around without my being aware of it. What else had he been up to?

  He put the Porsche in the garage and he and the Countess and the cat got in the jeep, bade the old blind lady good-bye and drove back to the highway.

  They drove for a while and then Heller slowed. He looked ahead. The deputy sheriff's car was sitting there in the speed trap. Heller drew up alongside it.

  "Well, if it ain't the whitey engineer," said Ralph.

  "Hey, will you look at that dame!" said George.

  "Dear," said Heller to the Countess, "may I present Ralph and George? They're deputy sheriffs of the Maysabongo Marines."

  "Wow!" said George.

  "Jiminy!" said Ralph, hastily taking off his cowboy hat.

  "We're just going down to check the place out," said Heller. "So don't be alarmed if you see some smoke."

  "Well, I should think so!" said George.

  "Jesus, I wish I had a job like yours," said Ralph.

  Heller drove the jeep up the road and plunged it off the highway onto the almost unmarked trail.

  "You do slaughter 'em," said Heller.

  Krak was laughing. "But what's this about Maysabongo Marines?"

  "They get a hundred a month extra duty pay for looking after the place and George's uncle, who is the sheriff, gets two hundred. Extra duty pay. Nobody is liable to bother this area."

  They skirted around full-grown trees and at length topped a rise and drove into the valley. Heller ran the jeep over to the flat area the tug had used and looked around, evidently checking for unwanted debris.

  "Where's this den of vice?" said the Countess.

  "Right over there in that stand of trees." He drove the short distance to it.

  "A house!" said the Countess.

  "A roadhouse," said Heller. And he told her about the Prohibition era and how the bootleggers used to bring contraband booze up the creek until two highways and a dam ended its career.

  They got out and the cat immediately began explor­ing. Heller went up the stone steps and unlocked the door. "The place is really a fort," he said. "Stone walls, armored doors, bulletproof glass. There's probably enough gangsters buried around here to start a ghost regi­ment." The Countess Krak walked into the dance hall area, looking at the yellowed paper lanterns. "The place is cold."

  "I'll open up all the doors and let the breezes blow through," said Heller. And proceeded to do so.

  "Why did you want this place?" said the Countess.

  "Landing area," said Heller. "And something else." He beckoned and they went into the bar. He pressed a catch and the end of it opened. He went down the ladder and she followed him.

  He played a light on some chiselled letters, Issiah Slocum, Hys Myne, 1689. Then down the galleries.

  "The first idea I had," he said, "was to find this lost mine and then pretend to open it and get it in operation.

  I didn't think I'd have enough finance. So I was going to make gold and then pretend I'd mined it here." He went down a gallery and lifted a tarpaulin. There lay the boxes the tug had carried as cargo.

  "So why didn't you?" said the Countess.

  "Well, for one reason, we have money to burn. But the main reason is, there's a missing box. For some reason, Box #5 disappeared on Voltar or en route. It contains the pans necessary to do the molding. Nothing on this planet is strong enough. It would
just melt under the bombardment."

  "Didn't you ever find it?"

  "I've sent two or three notes to Soltan. I asked him to reorder it."

  "Do you still need it?"

  "Well, yes. But not for gold. I want to make a setup for fuel rods. They take the same kind of pan. I wanted to give the setup to Izzy and they could have rods they would just feed into city mains and get billions of megawatts of power direct."

  "I should think he would have reordered it and sent it," said the Countess.

  "You sit down over there if you can find a clean place," said Heller. "I want to look through this stuff."

  He rummaged around. He put some meters on some metal sheets. Finally, he said, "All sorts of goodies here but nothing that will help. However, this will amuse you."

  He went over to a place in the floor and lifted a board, revealing the top of a small sack. He reached in and pulled out a handful of something and went over to her.

  "Some weeks ago when I was last up here, I ran a small batch of these." He opened his palm and shined the flashlight on it. It flared!

  "Oh, what are they?" said the Countess.

  "Diamonds," said Heller.

  She picked one up and looked at it against the flash­light. "Ooooo!" she said. "That's beautiful!"

  "Thought you'd like them," said Heller.

  I was suddenly sitting on the edge of my chair. Slav­ering. She was looking at what must be a pure blue-white of ten carats!

  Heller dumped the rest of the handful in her purse. "Take them along. Diamonds are just coal. I was testing pan hardness by compressing carbon blocks. There's a limit to the amount of this sort of thing you can do. You'd flood the market which, on this planet, is pretty tightly controlled."

  She was still looking at the diamond when they went back upstairs.

  Heller built a fire in the kitchen range and made some hot dogs. They ate them. Then he showed her how to toast marshmallows on pieces of wire with the front door of the firebox open.

  He wound up a Victrola and put on some jazz records from the 1920s and they danced.

  Later, Heller locked the place up. They went back and picked up the Porsche.

  Driving back to town, the Countess was petting the cat who seemed to be sleeping off an overdose of hot dogs.

  "Did we get what we went after?" said the Countess.

  "No," said Heller. "I thought there might be something I could use so I looked again. But there isn't anything there I can substitute for really hard pans and make fuel rods. They were all in Box #5."

  "How do you communicate with Soltan?" said the Countess.

  "He gave me an Afyon address," said Heller. "I'll cable it again when we get back. We really need Box #5."

  I smiled thinly to myself. I was doing better than I thought. I really was slowing him down!

  But it didn't solve my own problems. I would have to do more. AND FAST!

  Chapter 4

  In came the Blixo, roaring out of the night.

  I went aboard the moment they had a ladder up.

  "Well, well," said Captain Bolz, "and how is the filthy rich Officer Gris?"

  "Problems," I said.

  He massaged his hairy chest. "We all got problems. It's a good thing other freighters come in here. I had to go through a whole refit on Voltar. I'm weeks and weeks off schedule. The widow in Istanbul will be absolutely wild. But I've got things to cheer her up. Bar silver but mainly me." He started getting into his shore clothes.

  "How are things on Voltar?" I said.

  "Hells, I don't know. I'm just a captain of an Apparatus freighter. His Majesty don't tell me anything at all." He laughed at his joke. "You better ask that catamite, Twolah. He came aboard so beaten down he must know half the secrets of the government. Didn't have any trouble with him this time. He just sort of hid in his cabin."

  "I have three passengers for you," I said.

  "Straight up or suspended?"

  "Crobe you've carried before. I'd keep him locked up. The other two don't matter. Neither speaks Voltar­ian. But the girl, Teenie Whopper, I'd keep away from the crew. She's worse than Twolah."

  He stopped tying his shoe and pushed a set of blank forms at me. I had recovered my identoplate from Faht Bey and began stamping.

  He put the forms away. "This is a very fast turnaround," he said. "I'm way off schedule. So get your business done with Twolah and get him and your passengers aboard. I'm off to Istanbul for a very fast trip and when I return here, I'm gone."

  I followed him down the ladders and then turned and gave the guard captain loading orders for the passengers and the necessary stamps.

  "I'll be glad to see that girl go," said the guard cap­tain. "She's sitting in her cell swearing like a pirate, demanding we give her one phone call. The adjectives she's using on your name would melt the stone! You want to see her and calm her down?"

  "Gods, no! Tell her to open up one of her trunks and have a nice smoke! What about the man?"

  "The Madison fellow? He's no trouble. He's just sitting there saying he knew it would come to this. And that crazy Crobe hasn't said anything at all."

  "Well, get them shipped," I said. "I'm supposed to see a courier."

  "He's right over there. He didn't even arrive in irons this time."

  Twolah, nicknamed Too-Too, was cowering by a lad­der. He had a bag. I beckoned for him to follow me and took him into an empty cell.

  Too-Too wasn't so much beaten down as bursting with secrets he was afraid the wrong people would get out of him.

  He leaned close to my ear. His perfume hit me in a wave.

  "He's done it," said Too-Too.

  "Who has done what?" I said impatiently.

  "Lombar. He has totally subverted the Grand Council with drugs. The court physicians helped him. They've got everybody hooked and Lombar controls all the supplies." He drew back and gazed around to make sure he was not being overheard. He leaned forward: "He has even hooked His Majesty, Cling the Lofty!"

  My eyes flared. Oh, what news this was!

  "He's going on to hook the population," whispered Too-Too. "In all but name, Lombar Hisst is in virtual control of all Voltar."

  It was electric news. I suddenly realized that shortly I would become the Chief of the Apparatus!

  "He said to give you this," said Too-Too.

  He slid a paper into my hands. I unfolded it. It was made of words and letters cut from newssheets and pasted on a page.

  It said:

  KILLthe (blEepArd)!

  I looked at Too-Too. "What about Captain Tars Roke? Heller had the communication line to him."

  "Captain Tars Roke has been dismissed as the King's Own Astrographer. He has been ordered to join the Fleet on distant Calabar. Forget him."

  A surge of absolute joy raced through me!

  "The rest of the message," said Too-Too, "is to be sure the opium and heroin and amphetamines keep coming and that means to do nothing that would disturb I. G. Barben."

  That meant nothing must dislodge Rockecenter!

  My joy took a little sag. I thought of my present relationship there. My problems were not all solved.

  This was going to be tight!

  I stamped the papers he had brought.

  My mind was on other things.

  "Don't I get my reward?" he said. "You know, the big guard and the fat woman..."

  I pushed this loathsome catamite from me. "You'll get your reward when I am Chief of the Apparatus," I snarled.

  I had other things to think about.

  I had to work out how to handle these matters. I had to solve the problems which were hammering at me. And I had to solve them fast.

  Chapter 5

  In my secret room I tensely crouched over a sheet of paper. I had to make a plan. I was well aware that what I determined might well alter the course of billions of lives. I could not make a mistake: they had to lose, not me.

  Black Jowl.

  I wrote his name down.

  What was I goi
ng to do with him?

  Then I had it!

  I would kill Heller. Then blow up Chrysler Motors in Detroit. Then blast Ochokeechokee, Florida, off the face of the map, thus solving Miami not buying fuel. Then kill Izzy Epstein and Bang-Bang Rimbombo by blowing up the Empire State Building. I listed them. I did not want to overlook any.

  Then I would call Bury and I would say, "See? Madi­son was going too slowly. But now I have eradicated the fuel man and all his works." I would add modestly, "I'm sure you've read it in the papers." Then I would say, "So please get my rating restored as a Rockecenter family spy, for I have done my job and then some." And he would say, "Inkswitch, how proud we are of you. Of course your rating is restored."

  Then I would go to Black Jowl in his cell and I'd say, "On your feet, buster. You're talking to a Rockecenter family spy and you only got to phone your office to verify it." And he of course, in a whipped sort of way, would tear up his mortgage on the Earth base.

  I'd let him cringe a little before I booted him off the property. Yes, that would be nice, so I added it to the list.

  I sat back proudly to eye my masterpiece.

  Then my eye caught a flick of movement on the viewer. A knife was being drawn through a piece of meat.

  THE COUNTESS KRAK.

  I shuddered.

  I looked back at the plan before me. I sheltered it so it could not be visible from the viewer. There was a flaw in my master plan.

  The moment anyone drew a bead on Heller, he himself would be in the telescopic sight of a sniper rifle in the hands of the Countess Krak!

  I thought about this for a time. Yes, it was a definite flaw.

  In order to successfully gun down Heller, it was vitally necessary to get rid of that witch.

  I thought and thought. I paced back and forth. I had been unsuccessful in this before. I must not be unsuccessful now.

  Suddenly a basket caught my eye. There were many communications in it, untouched, unread, an accumulation of my long absence. The germ of an idea began to penetrate my mind.

  I went to the basket. Right on top was a card from Widow Tayl.

  Yoo-hoo, wherever you are.