“We will now take up the case of one of the principal instigators of Royal murder and governmental decay.”
The crowds on the monitors were suddenly silent. The room was still. Heller was about to bring in the product of his horse trade. “CAPTAIN! PRODUCE THE PRISONER LOMBAR HISST!”
Heller had ordered that Hisst be cleaned up and that he be ushered in without too much degradation. But common caution had modified his orders a bit.
A side door opened. Lombar Hisst was yanked forward. He was in a red general’s uniform of the Apparatus. The only one they had evidently been able to find, since his own was scorched, had been taken off a corpse. The red was blackened by the darker, unmistakable stains of blood.
They had gotten somewhere, probably from Teenie’s palace, an electric collar. It was around his neck. At the end of the chain was a burly Fleet Marine. He gave a yank and Hisst stumbled forward into the glaring lights of Homeview. He looked for all the world like some ape being led on a leash.
Heller’s hopes of calming the crowd down were all vanished in a puff.
The room screamed with sudden, savage hate!
The backfeed on the monitors sizzled with ferocity.
Then Heller saw that something was definitely wrong. Hisst was being tugged forward to be made to stand by the conference table, but there was something wrong with his eyes. They were always an animal yellow and a bit spooky but now they were flaring and strange.
Hisst came to a stop. He did not seem to be the least bit aware of the din that was damning him. He seemed to be speaking.
Heller called for silence and the cymbals had to sound five times before the shouts in the room ceased.
“Lombar Hisst,” said Heller, “you have been brought before this Officers’ Conference that you may be charged and may plead any justification for your acts. I have here a Royal proclamation on which we may write your fate which, I must advise you, is being left in the hands of this conference. I can, however, relegate you to a full trial if you have any statement which might persuade us to do so. Some mitigating circumstance . . .”
Heller paused, for during the whole time he had been speaking, Hisst had been mouthing words. He was not talking very loudly. Heller made a gesture to the captain of Marines and the man produced a small electronic speaker and held it close to Hisst’s mouth.
Hisst’s voice was very strange. He was saying, “The angels are calling. Please give me a fix. Oh, hear what the angels say. Give me a fix. The angels are calling. Please give me a fix. Oh, hear what the angels say. Give me a fix. . . .”
LOMBAR HISST WAS INSANE!
PART EIGHTY-EIGHT
Chapter 3
The Grand Council hall was quiet with a strange hush.
Here and in the streets, over Homeview, people heard that eerie, babbling voice.
But there was no definable response. Heller breathed a sigh of relief, thinking this would come off all right after all. The people seemed distracted from the subject of Earth. Maybe, as they did not seem to be displaying ferocity toward Hisst, they had exhausted much of their frenzy. Now, if he could just keep them calm. . . .
“Gentlemen,” he said to the vast table, “I do not think the prisoner is in any condition to answer charges and, as we all know the record, there is no point in another public trial. We know he sought to ascend the throne illegally and donned the robes of a monarch, so let us dispense with further formalities and find him guilty of that. Are you agreed?”
Heads nodded at the table. No voice was lifted in dissent. Heller took heart.
“I propose,” and he turned to a clerk who was now on duty, signaling him to be very careful to inscribe what he was going to say, “that the proclamation cancels all his posts—assigned, assumed or otherwise. We shall cancel, as well, all orders, appointments, assumptions, manifestoes, proclamations, ordinances, instructions or regulations of whatever kind issued by him in writing, verbally or by others for him in their own names. We hereby cancel as well any and all pay, pay arrangements made by, for or on behalf of said subject, including all pledges and debts and any claim that could be made by him or on him. Agreed so far?”
The heads at the table nodded. Heller was simply amplifying a form common in courts-martial where an officer, found guilty of a felony of magnitude, was being dismissed from service.
Then, to this, Heller added the civil declaration used when a person was reprieved from execution without being found innocent. It was a nice touch, for Hisst had used this countless times on people for his own ends and, in fact, had used it on the Countess Krak. “He is hereby declared a nonperson. Anything he does may be declared or deemed illegal. Anything done to him is not actionable under law.”
The clerk was writing busily. Heller thought with some elation that he was going to get away with this without another riot: the wrath against Earth seemed to have cooled off.
He said, “He would seem to be incapable of responding to routine communication. It seems obvious that he is not sane. Do you gentlemen agree?”
The officials at the board looked at Hisst. The Marine captain had stepped away with the small voice amplifier: Hisst was just mouthing the same words as before. His eyes were weird, a sort of overbright yellow. The officials looked back at Heller and nodded.
“Therefore,” said Heller, “the prisoner is relegated to the Confederacy Insane Asylum and is to remain there in custody for the remainder of his li—”
Suddenly Hisst whipped around. He roared in a deafening voice, “DOWN ON YOUR KNEES! DOWN ON YOUR KNEES, YOU RIFFRAFF! I AM THE GOD OF ALL THE HEAVENS!”
He had yanked the chain out of the hands of the Marine! He held it in the air before him. “I WILL STRIKE YOU ALL DOWN! WORSHIP ME! WORSHIP ME!”
Any hope Heller might have had that the population would be less emotional about Earth suddenly went up in smoke.
The first whisper ran through the hall, “The man is mad!”
Then a louder voice: “Use of Earth material has driven him insane!”
Then, “Look what Earth can do!”
Then a screaming shout, “We’ve been in the hands of a man driven crazy by Earth!”
It all came in a building rush of sound. And it was capped by the howling shout from a thousand throats, “KILL HIM!”
The captain thought he had been ready. He was not. He had had five Marines surrounding Hisst.
The crowd hit them!
Daggers out, they stumbled back, trying to bar the surge.
Twenty more Marines charged in a phalanx, plowing people away. They got to the crumbling circle.
Screaming people fought to get at Hisst to tear him to bits.
The Marines, blades held horizontally, fought to establish a ring.
People were going down, people were being trampled, people howling with ferocity and rage still tried to fight inward.
The trumpets and cymbals were blaring and clashing for order.
A whistle in the mouth of the Marine captain was shrieking for reinforcements.
Fifty Domestic Police who had been stationed outside blasted through the door, stingers flashing.
Sparklewater bottles were being thrown.
Three hundred Fleet spacers armed with coils of safety line rushed through the door swinging!
SHAMBLES!
Heller stood up. He got out his hand blastgun and set it to maximum noise. He fired repeatedly into the air! No result!
Then he saw through the hedge of tan uniforms that still sought to defend the prisoner that Hisst was crawling toward this end of the room.
Heller went over the raised table in a headlong vault.
He used his arms as though he was parting waves.
The backs of the defending Marines were to him.
He grabbed down and got Hisst by the collar.
He towed him free.
He crawled under the table, dragging his burden behind him.
Heller emerged back up on the dais.
Hisst swung at him.
“I GOT HIM!” shouted Heller in that piercing Fleet voice. “HE DIDN’T GET AWAY!”
A Homeview lighting man in a balcony hit him with a spot. The red uniform of Hisst was glaring bright.
Eyes in the room turned from battle and swung to the dais.
The twenty Marines suddenly strung out in front of the split-level of the table, preventing further rush.
“THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE!” shouted Heller. “BUT HE CAN’T ESCAPE AGAIN! I’VE GOT HIM!”
A sigh of relief came from the embattled throats.
The riot was over.
PART EIGHTY-EIGHT
Chapter 4
A Marine major wound Hisst round and round with chains and then, at Heller’s whispered direction, wound them around some more. He carted Hisst off to an upper balcony and put him there with electric daggers pointed at his throat, on display and out of the reach of the crowd.
Army casualty teams were going through the hall, handling the injured and picking people up.
Heller sat back down in his chair. A voice sounded just behind him. “You just got a sample of what will happen if you try to give Earth an easy ride.” It was the Countess Krak.
He turned. She had brought Hightee and the Master of Palace City. Heller went down the rear steps to them. He pulled their heads close to his and whispered some urgent instructions.
The Master said, “That’s awfully short notice!”
“You better learn to open up your throttles, Master,” said Hightee. “You’re dealing with Jettero Heller. My brother wants it, he’ll get it!”
“I did NOT say I would not do it!” said the wizened old man. “Crown and I have already got a good working arrangement going. I love it.”
“That’s better!” said Hightee. “We haven’t got much time. COME ON!”
They rushed off, the Countess with them.
Heller sat back down in his chair and spent the next five minutes cursing Madison. These people were at overheat on the subject of planet Earth: “Mob hysteria” did not even begin to describe it.
He had six proclamations to issue: he had not even completed two of them.
The mop-up was still going on. It was all right. He needed the time. He became aware of somebody standing down below the raised end of the table.
It was Bis. He was laughing. “That’s the first time I knew athletics went with that post,” he said. “Giving a reason for the riot and then solving it to stop it is the funniest gag I think I’ve ever seen. You’re a wonder, Jet!”
“You want this job, Bis?”
“Good heavens! What could possibly be wrong with it?”
“Being expected to kill five billion people including friends is what’s wrong with it. Here, I’ll give you my tunic.”
“Oh, no! But I suddenly see what you mean. Can I help?”
“Yes. Go up to that balcony and help that Marine major prevent Hisst from doing anything else foolish. We’re not through with him yet.”
A medical Army general approached Heller and gave him the casualty figures as though this were a battle, not a conference. Because electric daggers had been set to paralyze, only knockouts and minor injuries had resulted. The general went back to the table. Heller glanced up to where they had Hisst in chains on the balcony, then he surveyed the room. He trusted passions were spent enough for him to finish this second proclamation.
He signaled for the cymbals and, when they clashed, he said in a rush, “If you will vote now on the Hisst proclamation as outlined so far, we can conclude this second—”
A violent waving of hands from the rear of the hall was accompanied by a protesting blast of shouts from there. Heller peered, then he sighed.
“Yes, Noble Stuffy,” he called. “What now?”
Noble Arthrite Stuffy, a white bandage across his forehead now, surged once again up to a blank space at the conference table. “Crown, Your Lordship, sir,” he said, “just half an hour ago, during the treatment of casualties, we received wonderful news. It greatly influences the sentence of Lombar Hisst.”
“Oh, no,” thought Heller. But he said, “Tell me so we can get on with this.”
“By use of our reporters and our newssheet-building security guards, we have had the great good luck to run down and apprehend the so-called Doctor Crobe! We have him right outside. With your permission we will bring him in.”
“What,” said Heller, “does this have to do with Hisst?”
Noble Stuffy took that for assent and, at his signal, six watchmen brought in Crobe. He was no less a funny-looking creature than he had always been: his too-long arms, his too-long legs, his too-long nose as always made him look like a weird bird. But there was something even stranger now: instead of a crumpled captive, he was striding around like he owned the place. Before he could be stopped, he seized a chair at the table, sat down, crossed his arms and announced, “I am in charge! Take off your clothes!”
The audience gasped.
Heller looked more closely. Those weird eyes! Crobe was either high on some drug or insane—probably both!
“We have traced this man,” said Noble Stuffy. “He was once employed by the government as a cellologist and was arrested for criminal misuse of cellology. He was condemned to death. He is a nonperson. Hisst used him to manufacture abominable freaks as was earlier revealed. But this was not the end of his career. He was shipped to the planet Blito-P3 and there studied psychology and psychiatry. He became an expert practitioner of these subjects and then was used by Madison for his unspeakable projects in the field of PR. It is our understanding that on the planet Earth, psychology, psychiatry and PR are inseparable.”
“That is all very interesting,” said Heller. “But please, Noble Stuffy, I wish to complete this second proclamation.”
“And so do I,” said Stuffy. “With the indulgence of this conference, as an influential member of the publishing world, I wish to propose that Crobe also be assigned to the Confederacy Asylum. And as he is a psychiatrist, supposedly expert in the treatment of the insane, I propose that Lombar Hisst be given to Crobe as a patient.”
The audience gasped. Then it began to please them.
Heller unexpectedly blew up. Always an opponent of inhuman measures, he stood up and pointed a finger straight at Stuffy. “You have no idea of what you are proposing! Psychiatrists use tortures you have never even heard of! They drug their patients and send huge jolts of electricity through their brains to destroy nerve responses! And that isn’t all! At a whim, they take a steel probe, push it under the eyelids and scramble the prefrontal lobes! They have no intention of curing anyone: they are simply making it impossible for the victim to get well. Ever! AND THEY KNOW IT!
“Psychiatrists say they do not believe in the soul but they work to destroy any soul a man may have. AND THEY KNOW THEY ARE DOING IT!
“I will not tolerate such an inhuman practice on anyone! Not even Hisst!”
Then he realized suddenly that he was worsening the cause of Earth. Abruptly he stopped speaking.
At the lower level of the table near him, he heard a Domestic Police general whisper to his aide, “See, Earth is so horrible even a seasoned officer cannot abide it!”
Heller stared at the backfeed monitors. He had also horrified the crowds.
Silently, he cursed. He had, without intending to, injured his chances of creating a better atmosphere for Earth.
But he was stubborn and he had his own principles. He sat down. “I will only tolerate this proposal if you modify it. Lombar Hisst will be sent to the asylum and so will Crobe. But they are to be placed in adjacent cells. They are to be held incommunicado: no one may speak to either of them, ever. I will NOT let psychiatry loose in the Confederacy Asylum!”
“But Crobe can talk to Hisst?” Stuffy persisted.
“Yes, but not touch him,” said Heller.
“I get Your Lordship’s point abou
t not loosing psychiatry in the Confederacy Asylum,” said Stuffy. “It would be a disaster. But so long as Crobe is permitted to ‘treat’ Hisst verbally, I am satisfied. I cannot possibly imagine a worse fate. Thank you.”
Heller asked the table for assent and received it. He turned to the clerk and helped him complete the second proclamation. Then he sent it on its voyage for the additional signatures above the Emperor’s.
The Doomed Planet Page 18