Prologue

  It was a time of tragedy and alarm; it was a time of hope
and wonder. A dark, encroaching evil was loose in the
universe, aforce that harnessed the creative powers of
consciousness to the dark and terrible forces of nature,
to the negative pole of the Infinite. It was a time when
the powers of good and evil met in a combat of cosmic
magnitude. It was the time when the Primula galaxy
became a graveyard for the crews and starships of the
Dark Empire's mighty armada.
  Of all beings in the known universe, Ylang- Ylang, the
Dark Empire's lord, was the most wondrous. . . and
the most terrible. God-like and incorporeal, a self-
created immortal whose basis appeared to be energy
itself; it was a thing devoted entirely to the works of evil
and the domination of all sentient creatures. The heart
of its empire was the black planet Flaigon, home of its
ancestors, the extinct Mordlings. The last survivor of
this titanic race, Ylang had transformed itself into a
deathless being, a great andfearsome mass of corrupt
energies whose very sight was too much tobe borne by
the eyes and minds of mortal creatures.
  Its heritage was the incredibly advanced science and
refinements of evil developed by its ancestors, whose
lifespans ran in excess of six thousand years. Its will-
to-power was as limitless as its appetite for evil was
insatiable. Ylang fed upon the energies produced by the
torment and agony of other s.entient life-forms, literally
consuming its victims in the process; hence its title, the
Great Devourer.

              The Chronicles of Tallin

  The forces of the Dark Empire seemed to be irresist-
ible: its black starfleets ranged far and wide, extinguish-
ing the light of freedom in galaxy after galaxy, creating
in this manner the mightiest empire ever known among
the stars. Rebellions were virtually unheard-of in that
vast slave-empire, for the reason that their occurrence
brought forth punishments of unbelievable severity.
  The elite fighting force of the empire was the Death
Legion, commanded by yet another elite, the Ysss: a
race of fierce reptiloids who held the empire's highest
offices and kept the counsel of the Dark Emperor. They
worshiped death and lived to 4estroy; friendship, kind-
ness, pity and compassion they regarded as mere signs
of weakness; they were creatures bred to murder. Chief
among the Ysss overlords was Blorg, the Supreme
Commander of all the empire forces and the being
closest to Ylang- Ylang.
  The Dark Empire spread across the star-fields in the
manner of a tidal wave, and all who encountered it (with
few exceptions) were convinced of its invincibility. It
was a creation of darkness, a juggernaut fueled by evil
and armored in the powers of the dark side of the
  Infinite. Its might grew with each new conquest; and
horror and terror filled the shadows it left in its wake.
The empire seemed truly unstoppable. . . until one day
a strange combination of forces, both accidental and
intentional, vectored-in on the line of its progress.

  It started with the invasion of the Primula galaxy, a
place where war had been unknown for over two
hundred years; and this act of naked aggression brought
together most of the principal actors in this cosmic
drama. . .
  At this time, Dann Oryzon of the waterworld of
Aquaea, a young man who never knew his real parents
and one who had the rare honor of being adopted by the
dolphin-civilization of the Quee, was taken prisoner
aboard an empire startransport known as a slaver.
There he was befriended by Callix of Aurea Solis (the
golden planet that was the center of galactic resistance)
and his daughter, the lady Nila, with whom Dann later
fell in love. After an encounter with Lord Blorg, Callix
(even though Dann had tried to save his life) died; but
not before he pledged Dann to accompany his daughter
and carryon his mission. That mission was to locate the
Fellowship of Light, the mystical order that guarded the
Primula galaxy in the days before the era of the Great
Peace.
  Dann and Nila were rescued by the first person to
shatter the myth of the Dark Empire's invincibility: the
star-pirate, Red Rian, a pilot of incredible skill and the
skipper of the good ship Hazard, perhaps the best fight-
ing ship to be found anywhere. With him were his
first-mate, the "fierce and lovable" Purpur, a giant
felinoid, and the young technical genius, Ween Leever.
Rian and the rest of his crew were all from the neighbor-
ing galaxy of Taylos, natives of the planet Urgel, a
world that had been destroyed by the Dark Empire in
retaliation for its leadership of that galaxy's fierce resis-
tance. Rian was a hard and blustering mercenary of a
man who lived only to avenge the extinction of his
family and people. . . a debt that could only be settled
by the death of Lord Blorg.
  
  Through the agency of the wise, beautiful and all-
too-human androids, Altektu and D-Anacom, the ad-
venturers reached the planet Palos, in the outworlds of
the Nova Vega system. This was the stronghold of the
Fellowship of Light, and there Dann and Nila claimed
the right of suppliants and asked for the aid of the
galaxy's former guardians. Garthane, the imposing and
serene High Master of the order (a man nearly three
hundred years old !), invoked the power of the Infinite
Oneness and pledged the Fellowship's aid, immediately
recalling to Palos the scattered members of the now-
depleted order.
  Following this, Garthane sent Nila and Rian back to
Aurea Solis, where she was to rally the League of Free
Worlds and inform its chiefs of Garthane' s strategy; the
star-pirate and his crew would train the League's pilots
and impart to its people their great fund of technical
know-how and combat skills. Then, to the amazement
of the others, the High Master told Dann Oryzon that he
was to stay and be initiated into 1he Fellowship, an
order that combined worldly and martial-arts skills with
spiritual enlightenment. After the completion of the
arduous and months-long initiation, consummated by
an act of mass levitation caused by a "mind-lock," the
result of the members' collective state of "At-One"
with the Infinite, Garthane revelaed to Dann the fact
that he was was his true father.
  Nila brought the League Garthane's message, and
Red Rian trained its pilots. Like Dann, the pirate
changed much in the last days before the coming of the
Dark Armada; and he, like the young Aquaean, fell in
love with the lady from the golden planet. Nila herself
had strong feelings for both men. But there was too little
time for this complication to be resolved; the Dark
Empire came first.
  Through treachery, Blorg managed to recapture Nila.
  
  He then took her to Ylang's lair in the subterranean
Forbidden City of Kordor-along with the League's
battle-plans. Displaying incredible audacity, Rian and
his crew went after Blorg, and the star-pirate boldly
confronted the horrible Ylang and challenged his favor-
ite to mortal combat, the stakes being safe passage to
Aurea Solis, should he be victorious. Mortal combat,
foul-play and a series of remarkable events ensued,
fascinating even the bored and immortal Ylang (for the
eternal are prey to the constant threat of boredom). As a
"reward" for their boldness, Ylang was about to con-
sume his visitors, who were saved only by the arrival
and intervention of Garthane and Dann. Ylang was
distracted by an earthquake caused1Jy the Fellowship's
collective powers of mind, and Dann was able to lead
his companions out of Kordor; Garthane did not come
with them, and it was assumed that he had been killed
by the Dark Emperor.
  By the time the fugitives reached Aurea Solis, the
dark armada had already attacked. Ordered by Rian to
improvise when the battle-plans were discovered sto-
len, the ~eague pilots fought bravely and well, inflicting
great losses on their more rigid opponents; but the sheer
numerical superiority of the enemy had begun to shift
the balance. Rian, arrivi,ng in the Hazard, rallied the
allies for a time; but they were soon overwhelmed
again.
  What saved the League was Garthane's arrival.
Using the combined powers of mind of all its members,
the Fellowship brought about the collapse and destruc-
tion of the greater part of the armada's starships; the
survivors fled in panic. Meanwhile, Blorg had arrived
as well, and was immediately embroiled in the combat
when his flagship, the Devastator was confronted by
the Hazard. After a hard battle in deep space, Rian had
the satisfaction of watching his adversary's fleeing star-
ship erupt with a series of explosions that eventually
consumed it.
  
  The defeat of the armada freed the Primula galaxy
. . . for the present. Now the future hangs in the bal-
ance, for the Dark Empire still casts its shadow over
these star-fields; there are--still worlds to be liberated
and plans to be made. The struggle is not over yet. . .
But, at the same time, the many suns ofPrimula seem to
shine a little brighter; the laughter of children still rings
in the air; and men and women still fall in love. . .

                   Chapter 1
             No Longer Invincible


  Cries of Down with the Emperor! and On to Flaigon
echoed throughout all the free worlds of the Primula
galaxy as soon as the news of the Dark Armada's de-
struction had been received. The enemy was no longer
invincible, as the newly-composed popular song from
Aurea Solis proclaimed; and Red Rian's words, "Catch
'em with their pants down-and boot 'em in the ass!"
had become the slogan of the day. But there was no time
for self-congratulation or resting on laurels; the oc-
cupied worlds of the galaxy still had to be liberated.
  TacticallĄ, the League of Free Worlds had one great
advantage as "Operation Lib" commenced: the arma-
da's destruction had left Primula relatively free of
enemy starships. But the empire forces were
entrenched on the ground, and there were still large
numbers of atmospheric fighting-craft based on the oc-
cupied planets. On the day after the great victory, the
liberation forces began to lift-off from their home bases,
speeding to their assigned objectives, secure in the
knowledge that they would be welcomed and assisted
by the various resistance movements that had sprung
up on many of the oppressed planets. And indeed, once
the liberators had been sighted, there arose a wave of
almost universal popular uprisings.
  
  Savage and merciless, the Dark Empire garrisons had
made few friends; every civilian, young and old, male
and female, was a potential (and often actual) enemy.
Knives gleamed in the shadows; snipers ambushed offi-
cials; crowds swamped and overturned military vehi-
cles; local techs sabotaged homie and recon-robots; and
sentries mysteriously disappeared from their posts at
night. The liberations weren't easy, but they came
swiftly and inexorably nonetheless.

  Dan Oryzon beamed at his father from the foot of the
tlexiladder and said, "Infinity is at the heart of all
things." And Garthane, High Master of the Fellowship
of Light, responded with the other half of the ritual
fonnula, "All things are one." He waved and turned to
enter the starship.
  The day was bright with promise and Dann felt a
young man's trust in the future and belief in the powers
of change. What more could a young man ask? He had
found his true father, been initiated into great myste- 
ries, was instrumental in a glorious victory, and man-
aged to survive and be reunited with his comrades-in- 
arms.
  And who walked beside him, as he left the spaceport 
of Libera, capital of Aurea Solis, the golden world?
Whose hair caught the sunlight and turned it to gold?
Whose copper skin gave off the fragrance of summer
flowers? Whose grey eyes reminded him of the cloud
mantled oceans of his homeworld with their beckoning
depths?
  Suddenly Dann stopped and turned to face the tall
and graceful young woman beside him. "Nila," he said,
no longer stammering in her presence the way he had
months before, secure now in the knowledge of who he
was and what he wanted. "Forgive me, but I have to ask'
this now. There's much to be done yet, and . . . well
maybe we both won't be alive at the end of it all." He
looked deep into her eyes. "Could you. . . ever. . .
love me?"
  
  Nila's smile was as beautiful as the sun that warmed
her world. "I could," she replied, without a mil-
lisecond's hesitation. "And in a way, I already do."
And she did, having been drawn to Dann from the first,
after he attempted to save her father's life by confront-
ing the horrible Blorg. The root of her feelings was
composed of gratitude and respect; that root had grown
into the stem of friendship and admiration; and the stem
had begun to bear a flower. . .
  "And Red Rian, too?" Dann asked, at the same time
not wishing to hear her answer.
  She and the star-pirate had been through much to-
gether, and beneath the armor he wore to defend his
inner self, Nila had been able to see the beauty and
goodness of the man. "Yes, Dann." She grew serious
as she answered. "I have the same feelings toward both
of you." She leaned over, brushed his cheek with her
lips, and murmured softly in his ear. "That's why I
can't make up my mind. I'm trying. Believe me, I am."
  "Do you think you'll know. . . sometime soon?"
  "As soon as I'm able, Dann."
  "Fair enough," he said as they started walking again.
  "Let's get something to eat. I'm starved." ,
  "Well," Nila replied, shaking her head. "At least I
won't have to worry about you wasting away for love of
me."
  As she took his hand, he thought, I'll know soon
enough, I suppose. And tomorrow I'll be going home
. . . to liberate Aquaea !
 
  "You knock-kneed, overfed, foot-dragging slag-
farmers!" bawled the captain of the good ship Hazard.
You wobble-jointed, fork-toetl sons of dung-skreets!
You thimble-headed lot of Bedellian sissy-boys! Shape
up or ship out! The next time we dock, you swag-bellied
wimps, I'm going to scuttle you all, and sign up your
grannies for the next cruise !"
  Red Rian was in great form. The crew of the Hazard
chortled and winked at each other behind their skip-
per's back. Even Purpur smiled, in his feline way. This
tirade wasjust like old times. Blowing Blorg to reptiloid
atoms had done wonders for the man. And even his
chief tech-head, Ween Leever, a person known to pre-
fer Rian in a quieter state-sleep, for instance, had to
grin.
  Rian grinned, too, as he brought the Hazard in from
its post-combat shakedown flight. "The next man to
snicker," he said cheerfully, "is going out through one
of the tubes to be the first to land on Aurea Solis." He
knew peace for the first time in many years, now that
Blorg was gone and the blood-debt paid. His crew had
outdone themselves as usual and the enemy had been
smashed.
  Only one thing perplexed him: How in the name of
Zel do you destroy a thing as incredible and enormously
powerful as Ylang" Ylang? That was a problem. . .
Nevertheless, in a fit of optimism after the victory cele-
bration, juiced to the neurons on nenegol (that dragon-
slaying drink from his homeworld), Rian had tottered
back to the Hazard's torpedo-bays, and painted each
proton-torpedo with the name, Ylang- Ylang.
  Who knows? he thought. If we get lucky again, I
might be able to chuck afew torpedos into the middle of
that fat, churning mass offission-fusion garbage. Now,
wouldn't that be nice?
  
  He began to sing. "There was a girl from the out-
worlds. . ."
  "Oh Zel, he's gonna sing!" a voice muttered over the
ship's intercom. Groans went up throughout the
Hazard.
  "And Ee-genn was her na-'ame ," persisted Rian,
fighting a smile that threatened to turn his features to
jelly.
  "This is worse than facing Ylang!" another crewman
muttered. Unfortunately for his shipmates, Rian was
more enthusiastic than than musical; his full-throated
baritone was more than offset by a tin-ear .
  Splat! Purpur, seated in the co-pilot's seat beside
Rian, swished his thick tail ~nd whacked his chief on the
back of the head, registering his disapproval in the
fashion of the cat-folk of Yahwoo. Cries of "Let's
mutiny!" and "Gag him !" filled the ship. The muse
beat a tactical retreat as Rian tugged his red beard and
swallowed the next line of The Girl from the Out-
worlds.
  "You win this time, you pusillanimous gleets," the
pirate said. "But I won't forget this. And the next time
one of you incompetents messes up, I won't just knock
you on your launchpad-no, I'll lock you in my cabin
and sing to you for half an hour. So watch your step,
louts."
  As the Hazard entered the atmosphere of the golden
planet, Rian's thoughts turned to Nila. She's got to
crack soon. Dann'sa good lad, of course , but she needs
the support and experienced counsel of an older man.
But she likes the kid, too. . . I don't know how she does
it. I've lusted after dozens simultaneously, but only had
the compartment space for one love at a time. Poor
Nila, it must be a hard and wrenching thing for her.
being divided by the love of two such worthy men. Well,
a worthy man and a worthy boy. It's not easy. But
whichever she chooses, at least she'll have the consola-
tion ofknowing she couldn't have possibly done better.
 
  "Rian, you're too quiet," said Ween Leever.
  "Ah, leave me to my thoughts, Weenie-boy," was
his skipper's reply.
  Old Klegg nudged Ween and whispered, "Can't you
see the man's in'love, lad?"
  Ween's eyes went electro-shock wide. "I didn't
know," he whispered back.
  The old Taylian shook his head. "You would if you
weren't always dreaming about gadgets and gizmos,
boy. You must be the last person on the planet to know.
Welcome to reality."
  Purpur was happy for his chief. The cat-man leaned
over and ran his sandpaper tongue up the nape of Red
Rian's neck, and was amazed when he found the buc-
caneertoo preoccupied to smack him in the chops.

  As she combed her long hair in the focussing-mirror
in her bedchamber, Nila visualized Dann Oryzon sea-
ted beside her. She thought they made a fine-looking
couple. Dann had. . . matured. . . so much since the
first time she laid eyes on him in the stall of the slaver.
He had gone from boy to man in the few short months
she'd known him, and Nila felt honored that the Infinite
had permitted her to witness that great transformation,
a normal part of the life-process, but something
miraculous as well. It was as if she had watched the
hand of a master-sculptor refining one of his creations.
  After his initiation, Dann acquired a new sensitivity,
a heightened awareness of life's richness and potential,
and an increased respect for all its manifestations. Nila
realized that this new-found maturity was the result of
an almost simultaneous exposure to many forces.
Dann's experience of the horrors of war and the inevit-
able mortal pains that attend separation and the death
and loss of lov~d ones had been balanced by life's
positive gifts. He had gained friends and family in the
crew of the Hazard, as well as comrades-in-arms; found
his father, Garthane, who initiated him into the myste-
ries of life; been consoled and supported by the love and
therapeutic expertise of those exquisite and self-refined
entities, the androids Altektu and D-anacom; and had
fallen in love, a state of existence that, requited or not,
would also leave its mark on him forever.
  
  Dann was brave and sweet, open to life. . . and not at
all unattractive to Nila. She was drawn to him. But she
was also drawn to Red Rian.
  She stared into the mirror again and replaced Dann's
features with those of the star-pirate. Where the young
Aquaean's dark eyes and intense expression suggested
great depths, places to be explored and experienced
over a long period of time, the red-bearded buccaneer's
glinting blue eyes and come-and-get-it smile beckoned
her to a stormy and passionate voyage over the wilder
seas of existence, promising stop-overs at the more
colorful and exciting ports-of-call along the way.
  Rian had dared to live intensely all his life; and he
knew that his greatest enemy was not Blorg or Ylang,
but himself. To him, life was a voyage of the soul, filled
with challenge and adventure; and he would hold to his
course where most men would tack to safety, deter-
mined to finish the journey in high style. Were Dann
offered the prospect of stability, Rian held out the lure
of adventure. Both men were as different as night and
day; and both appealed to different sides of her nature.
She owed it to them to come to a decision. And soon
...
  When Nila looked in the mirror once more, she was
alone, although she could still feel the presence of both
men at her side, balancing each other like equal weights
in the scale of her affections. She was grateful that the
League's galactic business took precedence over the
affairs of individuals at this time, and escaped into
thoughts of the coming struggle.
  The lady from the golden planet had done her work
well: her liaison efforts had" resulted in a total and well-
organized network of cooperative exchange between
the member-worlds of the League. Every tech-drome
and starshipyard on every civilized planet was operat-
ing at full capacity; the prosperous galaxy was gearing
all its manifold resources to meet the challenge of the
Dark Empire. The stakes were high: nothing less than
life and liberty; but the men and women of Primula gave
their all and worked unremittingly for the common
good.
  Nothing like a good war to create a spirit of broth-
erhood, Nila thought, recalling the history she had
studied at school. She noticed that her reflection wore a
wry, sad smile. Why does it always take a major catas-
trophe to get people to share things with each other?
There must be easier ways to achieve the same result.I
know there are. . .
  Then she thought of the horrible thing that called
itself emperor of the Dark Empire, and shuddered.
Ylang's resources are enormous, she granted. But
they're also deployed over numerous galaxies. We'll
have a little time before the empire is ready to attack
Primula again. And by that time, the occupied worlds
will be long-liberated; we'll have build and equipped
our fleets and made our plans. And Garthane will have
made his. . .

  It seemed to Garthane that Primula's stars glittered
more brightly than they had for a long time. Even the
force of the Infinite seemed to hum in a more sublime
pitch, after lending its beneficent energies to those who
respected it and drew their strength from the heart of its
deep mysteries. The Fellowship renewed its ancient
pledge to the peoples of the galaxy and, depleted as its
membership was, had managed to unite its energies
with the rhythms of the Infinite Oneness and subject the
dark armada to an upheaval that wrenched apart the
very molecules of its' starships, tearing the black
leviathan vessels to pieces in the living heart of the void.
  And now the next step in Garthane's plan was being
undertaken, as he and all the other members of the
order set out on a journey among the worlds of Primula
in search of those worthy to join the Fellowship.
Ylang's power was almost beyond belief: Garthane
knew that at first hand. But it was his gamble that, if
enough men and women could be found, he would be
able-always providing there were enough time and
energy available-to augment the strength of the Fel-
lowship, thereby dramatically increasing its collective
powers of mind, the crucial factor in the struggle against
the immortal Ylang and his legions.
  Garthane's craggy features were composed in his
characteristic expression of serenity, giving no indica-
tion of the feelings of urgency and anxiety that churned
at some deep level of his being. But a person has many
parts, and mind and spirit have many levels; Garthane
was in tune with the source of life, and it fed his best
energies and gave him the strength and determination to
carryon the struggle. . . even though he knew that the
odds against his side were incredibly high.
  
  He knew what Ylang and his empire really repre-
sented: the dark side of the Infinite, the other side of our
natures and minds-the dark, primitive forces that
serve the powers of destruction and yearn always for a
return to the dark vortex of chaos. And he also knew
that we must listen to the" dark and instinctual powers
that reside in ourselves as well as in the universe. The
dark voices must be listened to and their message un-
derstood, for as light illuminates the darkness, so dark-
ness defines the light. To be dealt with, Garthane
thought, Ylang's evil must be understood for what it is:
the other side of our natures, the other side of the
Infinite.
  He turned to stare at the man beside him, Brother
Camenarpo, his second-in-command. Camenarpo's
eyes were rolled up in their sockets and his hawk-
features reflected the intensity of his trance-state.
Garthane would miss his old companion when they
parted company again; the High Master planned to
rejoin his son on Aqauaea when the planet was liber-
ated. .
  Despite the visions of war and horror that loomed on
the horizon of his consciousness, Garthane felt warmed
by his hopes and implicit trust in the powers of life. But
he had his doubts; for ifhe was part eternal, he was only
human as well. . .

  Ylang- Ylang was not human at all, and was in a black
mood as the slave-crews cleared the last of the rubble
out of its lair. Earlier, on hearing of the armada's de-
struction, the star-tyrant went into a hideous rage, its
corrupt and agitated energies filling the great hall. And
whenlhe quaking Ysss (even they feared the Dark
Emperor's anger) brought word that Blorg the Devas-
tator had been annihilated by Red Rian, Ylang's rage
knew no bounds. Its huge mass of pulsating energy
roared and exploded, erupting into firestorms behind
the fleeing Ysss, as the manifested wrath of this im-
mortal being assumed the aspect of a natural disaster.
Panic cloaked the Forbidden City of Kordor, and every
living soul in the capital lay prostrate and cowering,
praying for mercy.
  As was usual in the aftermath of its rage, Ylang's
energies were banked low; its mass was dark as a storm
cloud, emitting only occasional muted rumblings and
dim, fitful flashes. Nevertheless, its servants had all
been so terrified by the hideous spectacle of frustration
that the Ysss overlords were forced to use mind-raped
slaves, those will-less zombies who had been mentally
violated for the emperor's pleasure, to remove the last
of the debris from the lair - the wreckage resulting from
Ylang- Ylang's first encounter with the Fellowship of
Light.
  The work was directed personally by Aaasp, the
overlord who had succeeded Lord Blorg as commander
of all the empire's fighting forces. He did this at the
vidscreens of the antechamber to the lair, issuing in-
structions to the shambling, burnt-out slaves by means
of the telepathic powers he possessed in common with
his brother-reptiloids.
  In one short day, the five Y sss lords who had pre-
ceded him were all wiped out, and Aaasp suddenly
found himself at the summit of ambition. But he did not
allow himself the luxury of gloating over his good for-
tune, for the mighty Ylang could read the thoughts of all
in Kordor. . . and the emperor was not in a benevolent
mood. It was an awful responsibility, being directly
accountable to the Great Devourer; but there was also
the great reward: the unspeakable and unimaginable joy
of communion with Ylang, that endless river of evil.
The other Y sss had all listened to Blorg' s mental cries of
ecstasy as they waited in the antechamber, and they all
lusted in their murderous hearts after the chance to
share the unholy bliss of the Dark Emperor's embrace.

  Ylang itself was submerged in the midnight sea of its
thoughts, pondering the amazing series of events that
had come to pass in such a short span of time. The
defeat of the star-armada represented the first set-back
to the emperor's plans of conquest. But that in itself was
of no major consequence, for starfleets and the beings
that manned them were as toys to Ylang, expendable
chess-pieces in the great galactic game.
  Blorg's loss was another matter. The Devourer had
labored long and hard to produce such a creature; the
perfect engine of destruction. It had directed the evolu-
tionofthe reptiloids ofSserp to that sole end. And Blorg
was so utterly and remorselessly evil that Ylang had
come to think of him as its spiritual son. But as it had
cultivated Blorg, so it would cultivate Aaasp. The Ysss
were a breed with great potential.
  Certainly it had underestimated the wee mannikins
who called themselves the Fellowship of Light. The
three who had dared to stage a confrontation in the lair
itself-Garthane, Dann Oryzon, and Camenarpo-
had displayed rare courage and presence of mind. And
the order's collective mental powers, while in no way
the equal of its own, had impressed Ylang to regard the
Fellowship as an opponent of some consequence. But
as it had scanned the intruder's minds, taking their
mental and genetic imprints unto itself at the same time,
Ylang had discovered the actual strength of the order.
Two hundred minds, mentalities humanoid and non-
humanoid. . . hardly enough to represent an insur-
mountable obstacle,..
  Ylang had also experienced a profound feeling: the
awakening of desire. Its interest in the great game had
been rekindled. These Primulans, with their Fellowship
of Light and their League of Free Worlds, had done it a
great favor; they had provided relief from boredom, the
curse of the immortal. The lair resounded to an explo-
sion, Ylang's equivalent of a burst of laughter, as the
Dark Emperor recalled Red Rian's visit to Flaigon.
  
  What splendid audacity! it thought, filling the stone
hall with the bass rumblings of its amusement. To res-
cue the humanoid female, Nila. this astral buccaneer
summoned up the nerve to bargain with me -and that
performance was a masterpiece of insincerity-and
then offer to fight to the death with my son, Blorg the
Devastator. I am developing a higher regard for these
little creatures. What a treat it will be to taste of their
agonies and incorporate their energies into mine!
  At last. . . opponents worthy of the game! Ylang's
mass expanded, flooding the lair with stroboscopic
bursts of light. For the first time in aeons, the game
interests me once more!
  The Devourer's thoughts turned to gluttony. My lord
Aaasp, come unto me. I would have you select some
slaves -afull thousand. This is a day to be remembered,
and I would feast!
  As the cyclopean doors swung open, groaning like a
chorus of a hundred brass throats in torment, Aaasp
staggered into the lair, shielding his eyes from the crim-
inal brilliance of his master. And when he prostrated
himself on the black floor before the Lord of Life and
Death, he shuddered violently, causing his body-armor
to rat-a-tat-tat on the stone in the manner of a drum-
mer's taradiddle.
  Ylang felt confusion and profound disappointment in
the reptiloid's thoughts, but Aaasp's mind was in such a
turmoil that the Dark Emperor had to request an expla-
nation. And this alone was cause for high curiosity, for
the Yssss are startled by few things. Sweet lord Aaasp,
Ylang said, the rich, organtones of its mental voice
booming mellifluously, you are upset. What is it, my
lord? What tidings do you bring me?
  As a state of extreme shock sometimes causes vocal
creatures to lose the power of speech, so the mute and
telepathic Ysss had lost control of the muscles of his
mind. It was some time before he could clear his
thought-patterns and convey his message to his lord and
master. But when he finally spoke, Ylang was rewarded
for its patience:
  Great Ylang, I have just received a communication
. . . Lord Blorg lives!


                      Chapter 2
                 Reunion On Aquaea


  "Citizens of Aquaea. Citizens of Aquaea. This is Dann
Oryzon of Merport speaking. I am coming in with the
forces of the League of Free Worlds, and I ask you all to
rise up andjoin us in the name offreedom and the great
Mother Sea! Join with us now. We're coming in~the
liberation of Aquaea has begun!"
  Dann switched off the Hazard's transmitter and
turned to Ween Leever. "How'd you ever manage to
pipe us into the enemy's broadcast frequencies?"
  The boy-genius lowered his head and shuffled his feet
while he answered through a shy smile. He mumbled
something about band alternators and parallel
rectifiers. Dann understood very little of it.
  A flat, mechanical voice sounded behind him as
O-V-I, Ween's compulsive-talker of a robot, began to
supply a clarification. "To simplify the preceding
statement, Mr. Dann, one must appreciate the intrinsic
nature of atmospheric communication. It is possible to
override a broadcast frequency. . . "
  "Save that for your next lecture, Ovie," Rian growled
from the pilot's seat, causing Ween's techno-
companion to wow into silence. The cat-man beside him
growled softly as Rian spoke again, this time into the
Hazard's intercom. "All hands stand by. There's a
wave of enemy airships coming our way, on a three-
two-fiver heading. Gunners, peel your eyes and feel
your trigger-fingers itch. I expect you to be able to blast
the balls off a gnat at five hundred klectometers. Activ-
ate shields. I'm takin' 'er through. First man to score's
the first man to get drunk when we touch down on
Aquaea."
  In Dann' s honor, Rian took the Hazard in at the head
of the first wave, and the young Aquaean had the unim-
peded view that belongs to the leader of the pack.
Beyond the ominous silhouettes of the black, approach-
ing fighters, Dann could make out the outline of his
hometown, Merport. As he sighted through the com-
puter screen of his laser-cannon, hope welled up inside
him with the rolling swells of the ocean below. Was his
family still alive? And his best friend, Zak Spar?
The angry whine of a laser-beam, followed by the
splat of its deflection by the Hazard's shielding, inter-
rupted his thoughts. "Show time!',' exclaimed Rian.
"Fire at will!"
  The empire fighters were no match for the firepower
and screens of the Hazard, and the bright ship cut
through their formation the way a hot knife cuts through
a pat of butter. "Someone give me a count," Rian
grunted, AS he came out of a tight turn with a loop that
sent the ship back at the enemy craft. On the computer
screen, the sight of the distant fighters reminded Dann
of a swarm of angry insects.
  "Three down, one in trouble," was the answer to
Rian's question.
  The swarm of insects grew larger on the screen, prox-
imity transforming them into a flock of steel ravens. "Is
that all?" the skipper of the Hazard asked rhetorically.
  "Uncross your eyes, you Taylian myopics!"

  From his protside gun-turret, Dann watched the
computer screen that showed the ship's bow-cannon at
work. The fighters, already engaged by the main body
of the League's ships, started to scramble as the Hazard
came up behind them, strafing their tails with devastat-
ing accuracy. As the formation was again penetrated,
Dann lined-up an empire fighter in his cross-hairs. He
depressed the firing-button gently, and-whaang!
whaang!-the cannon whined, and red laser-bolts
lanced out to explode the enemy craft. That one's for
old man Maraner! Dann thought, remembering his
foster-father's death at the hands of the invaders.
  "Score!" Rianbarked, as the Hazard came out of the
formation.
  "Seven-and-a-half," came the reply over the inter-
com.
  "That's better, mates. . . Hey-wait a minute!
What the hell does that 'half' mean?"
  "Aigron blew the tail offa one, but he thinks it got
down okay."
  "Oh." Rian nodded. Then he banked into another
turn. "Okay, you spaceswabs: one more pass. If you
don't double the score, I'm locking you all in the ship
tonight, while I pay my respects to the ladies of Aquaea.
When we're past 'em again, I'm taking us into Mer-
port."
  Dann held his breath when he heard Rian's last
words. He squinted into the eyepiece of his gunsight
and wondered whether Lii-arc sea-racer was still alive.

  Haaass! Haaass! The sound of Blorg's stertorous
breathing drowned out the gentle hum of the levitator
that took him down to the city beneath the surface of
dead Flaigon. Dwarfing the humanoid equerries who
escorted him to the Forbidden City, the reptiloid lord
stared vacantly at the door-panel in front of him. Since,
for some unknown reason, the Dark Emperor had not
probed his consciousness once he touched-down on the
black planet's surface, the lord of the Yss allowed him-
self the luxury of brooding over his recent misfortunes.
  Not only had the mighty star-armada been de-
molished, thereby disrupting his plans for the conquest
of the Primula galaxy, but that bearded man-ape, Rian,
that hairy and disgusting piece of humanoid trash, had
actually bested him in deep space combat. And the
worst was yet to come: he must now anSVfer for his
disgrace and defeat to Ylang- Ylang, the only thing he
feared in this life. It was a dark day for Lord Blorg and,
as he left the levitator and strode through the eerie and
self-illuminated corridors of black rock that led to the
lair, the weight of fear lay on his body with the pressure
of several dense atmospheres.
  Entering the antechamber, he received the four-
armed salutes of the gathered Ysss overlords. Aaasp
bowed low as he passed, and looked away. Blorg
shielded his thoughts and, in passing, darted a contemp-
tuous glance at Aaasp. He noted the absence of several
familiar forms: Kaag and Kraaass, his brood-brother,
Haaang, his palace-ally Luurq-all dead. His suc-
cessothad much to gain from his disgrace. As the doors
to the lair swung open, a rush of horror chilled the air
"etween his scales and the black body armor he wore.
And when the mindless herald roared, "M;y lord
Blorg!" in a voice as cold and empty as the deserts of
Sserp, he felt the hand of death clutching at his heart.
  The lair was ablaze with an impure, flickering light
and the lord of the Ysss shielded his eyes, clapping his
black-gloved hands over the one-way visor of his hel-
met, as he beheld the vortex of energy that was the Dark
Emperor.
 
  As the massive doors swung open, revealing the fig-
ure of a cloaked giant with four arms, dressed all in
black except for the three blood-red plumes that sur-
mounted its helmet, Ylang- Ylang's mental voice re-
verberated throughout the huge stone chamber with the
resonance of thunder in a cathedral. Approach me,
Lord Blorg! it boomed, in a voice like the crack of
doom.
  Haaass! Haaass! As he approached the emperor,
Blorg's body jerked like a marionette, and fear was the
puppet-master. Tremors ran over his frame the way a
plain rolls to an earthquake, and his guts churned and
bubbled like a cauldron in hell. When he collapsed
before his master in the ritual act of prostration, the
serpent-lord felt the shadowy substance of Ylang's
mind embracing his consciousness. His lidless eyes had
no tear-ducts, but Blorg wept in his heart.
  Primula remains free; the greatest armada ever seen
among the stars is destroyed; and my Supreme Com-
mander has been defeated by a rabble of mystics, mer-
chants and pirates.. How shall I repay my lord Blorg?
  Haaa-aa-ass! Haaa-aa-aas! Blorg's terror infiltrated
his lungs with the suffocating cold .of the airless void.
What Ylang asked was tantamount of ordering him to
design the sleek vehicle of his own death!
  Ylang consumed bodies and energies wholesale-
hundreds at a time, one after the other; the Great De-
vourer's most fearsome aspect was his evil and glutton-
ous appetite. And Blorg's fear, the terror of this other-
wise fearless engine of destruction, was a delicacy to
if-a caviar of the spirit. Ylang savored the reptiloid' s
fear with the delectation of a connoisseur sampling the
rarest of wines; the awful game would be played out
until, sip by sip, the cup had been drained.
  What shall be my lord's reward, O Blorg of the
thousand tortures? What does he deserve? -"I
  
  Blorg's only replay was a telepathic wail, as dread
atomized his thoughts to the gibberish of panic.
  Was not Blorg elevated to sit at the right hand of
Ylang? Should not his reward be elevated above alt
things as well?
  Voiding and convulsive, Blorg was received into the
mercy of unconsciousness. With a mental sign that ran
down the chromatic scale, Ylang acknowledged its
satisfaction. The cup was drained; the reptiloid was an
empty vessel. . .
  Haaa-aa-aa-aaass! When Blorg awoke, he felt a sav-
age joy rising in the chambers of his dark heart, crowd-
ing out even the surprise he felt at still being alive. In the
outermost sectors of his mind he could hear the glorious
song of the angel of the pit. It seemed to him that even
the molecules of his body hummed to that obscene
music of pure evil, that malevolent hymn in celebration
of mindless and transcendant destructiveness. Instead
of death, Ylang was granting him its greatest reward:
entry into the domain of its murderous and inconceiv-
able ecstasies!
  Ylang welcomes its creation. . . its son! the De-
vourer purred, causing th blood of all in Kordor to run
as cold as a polar sea. And chooses to admit him to its
heart. Blorg had done well, and found worthy oppo-
nentsfor his sire. and liftedfrom its neck the heavy yoke
of boredom. The lair darkened rapidly, as Ylang banked
its energies and condensed its mass into an onyx cloud
whose outer tendrils lapped at Blorg's recumbent
form.How was my son spared?
  
  The lord of the Ysss concentrated his thoughts, de-
ferring the promise Qf delicious surrender in order to
reply. As I have learned from you, 0 Lord of Life, and
Death, I attempt to prepare for all eventualities. In-
vincible as I. imagined the flagship, Devastator, to be,
yet did I. have it equipped with an ejector-capsule of sur.
passing speed and quality. And so, »'hen the scum of a
pirate, Rian, overcame my screens and backed up my
reactors, I was able to jettison and escape before the
final explosion consumed the starship. The force of that
blast sent my capsule far out into the void and knocked
me unconscious. . . But not before I had activated my
racer-signal, whose code is known throughout all the
empire star fleets . . .
  He was almost enveloped in the glowing fog of
Ylang's outer blackness, and Blorg felt his mental con-
trol dissipating. One of the armada's retreating forward
scouts picked me up and transferred my capsule to the
destroyer, Nightfall. . . one of the few vessels to reach
hyperspace intact. . . And now your dedicated servant
has returned.
  As the tendrils of black fog encircled his body,
Blorg's eyes rolled up in his head. Just before he sank
into an ocean of annihilative visions, he heard his lord
once more:
  Be restored now, sweet Blorg. And later, we shall
hatch grand schemes together. . . 

  The fighting was hard, but nevertheless, the libera-
tion of Aquaea was accomplished swiftly. The people of
the waterworld were still warmed by the fires of anger
and resentment kindled by the coming of the savage
invaders; they had not been slaves of the Dark Empire
long enough to see their hostility melt into submission.
  Acts of ambush, sabotage and assassination were
performed on a grand scale, as the Aquaeans avenged
themselves on their conquerors at every opportunity.
By the time the League forces rolled into the cities, the
skies dominated by their bright aircraft and transports.
the empire's hold on the land had already been seriously
weakened. As violence begets violence, so the barbar-
ity of the empire's invasion and occupation bred its
counterpart in the terrible retaliation of the populace.
War is a disease of the spirit, and there is no need to
dwell on its pathology here. Let it be sufficient to say
that the invaders sowed dragon's teeth and reaped a
harvest of blood. And then one day, after the madness
and carnage had subsided, Aquaea was free once more.
  Dann Oryzon studied the lines of black-uniformed
prisoners that stretched along Merport's central
boulevard as he marched down to the slave-pens at the
spaceport's transshipment center. He felt relieved at
having been spared the tragedy of the occupation, a
time when the greatest crime was the assertion of
human dignity. The human Aquaeans had cried for
further revenge until Garthane himself went to the Mer-
port com-center and addressed them on the nation's
vidscreens. He argued for mercy, and proposed that the
captive soldiers of the Dark Empire, themselves virtual
slaves of Ylang, should devote all their energies to the
rebuilding of the waterworld's cities. For the upper
echelon officers, there would be a trial, where they
would have to account for their war-crimes. The High
Master, in the name of the Fellowship, ancient guardian
of the galaxy, invoked the Infinite and the spirit of life as
he asked the Aquaeans to show goodness, mercy and
justice in their judgments. The sensors at each
vidscreen site registered and transmitted the feelings of
the people as they decided the fate of the invaders.
Dann was proud of his fellow-citizens; they had sided
with the forces of life.
   
  His heart fluttered "like a wounded bird when the
entered the slave-pens with the liberation force. The
place reeked like a stockyard, reminding him of "the
stalls where he was held prisoner on the empire's gar-
gantuan slaver. How could sentient creatures pen their
brothers and sisters in such a filthy and horrible place?
How could they stand to inflict unthinkable cruelties on
them, violating not only their bodies and minds, but
their souls as well? The god-like and immortal Ylang's
gifts to the sentient beings of the cosmos were rape and
murder and violations of the spirit. They had to fight
Ylang; and they had to win: there was no other alterna-
tive. Death itself, the thing that mortals fear most, was
preferable to the dominion of the Dark Emperor.
  Tears ran down his cheeks as Dann walked through
the pens, looking for his family. The sight of his
wounded, suffering people, many of them neighbors
and schoolmates, tore at his heart with the claws of a
vulture. He stopped to wipe his eyes.
  "Dann? . . . Is that my Danni? Oh, thank the great
Sea!" A croaking voice caused him to open his eyes and
turn to the left. He saw an oid woman reaching out to
him. It was Mrs. Maraner-his foster-mother! They-
came together, and Dann embraced the woman who
had loved him as much as she had loved her own chil-
dren. She cried and he cried, and neither could speak
for several minutes. When he finally able to talk, Dann
held Mrs. Maraner at arm's-length, looked into her eyes
and asked the question that had haunted him for
months.. "Talli and Nona. . . Gen. . . Zak Spar and his
mother. . .? How are they?"
  In the seconds it took Mrs. Maraner to answer, he
relived that moment during the invasion when he awoke
after the explosion of the homing-missile and saw the
dead bodies of Mr. Spar, old man Maraner and his
young foster-brother, Orlow.
  
  "The girls are here. So's Niva Spar. Gen. . . " The
old woman's voice broke, and sadness clouded her
eyes. "Gen died two months ago."
  He held her close, as she sobbed in that strange, quiet
way of hers. He had loved his foster-brothers, and they
had loved him; now both of them were gone. . . No, not
gone-transformed; taken back into the dark heart of
the Infinite, where their bright energies would be re-
channeled into other forms of existence.
  "And Zak Spar?" Dann asked, his heartbeat quick-
ening I as he: did. Zak was not to be seen after the
explosion, and Dann had always permitted himself the
luxury of believing that his best friend was still alive.
  "Nobody knows," replied Mrs. Maraner. "They
came and took us away. We never saw him again."
And Dann wondered whether he would ever see him
again, either. . .
  That evening, the League held a banquet in honor of
these who had lost their lives in the Dark Empire (great
events and occasions are always celebrated by ban-
quets in the Primula galaxy). As Dann entered the as-
sembly hall in the company of Nila, Rian, Purpur and
Ween Leever, a man approached them. It was Com-
mander Marmor, chief of the Liberation forces.
  "Come over here, son," Marmor said. "I want you
to meet some good people." Dann nodded, smiling in
spite of himself. The commander was a touch and
taciturn old bird who reminded him of old man
Maraner. He followed Marmor, who stopped in front of
a group of young Aquaean males and females in cam-
ouflage fatigues. Dann looked at them for a long time
before he recognized his old friends, schoolmates and
sweethearts. He yelped with surprise as they sur-
rounded him, the men shaking his hand and slapping his
back, the women rumpling his hair and smacking kisses
on his face and head. They all look so grown-up, he
thought. So much older than I remembered them.
  
  Suddenly, a voice came from the rear of the group;
Dann straightened up and stood as still as a calcinite
statue. "That can't be Dann Oryzon," it said. "He was
the hottest hydro-jockey from Merport to Seaville . . .
and this guy's a landlubber, if I ever saw one."
  "Zak!" Dan shouted, pushing his way through the
crowd of young resistance-fighters. "Zak Spar!" And
then before him, he saw the tall, rangy frame of his best
friend. He looked up into Zak's smiling and full-bearded
face. "Hey!" he exclaimed, grabbing him by the beard.
"Where'd you get the bird's nest?"
  "It's a face-warmer," Zak replied. "It gets pretty
cold up there in the hills, Danni."
  The two young men grew serious as they spoke of the
loved ones they had lost. The embraced, and then
shook hands solemnly, in the two-handed fashion of
Aquaean humans.
  "That's Dann's best friend, y'know," Ween Leever
told Rian, as they watched the reunion. "He always
used to tell me about him. Never knew if he was alive or
dead." A wistful note entered his voice. "Maybe
someday I'll see my friends again."
  As Nila hugged Ween, Rian thought of the friends and
loved ones he had left behind on Urgel. He would never
see them again. . . not in this life. "Yeah," he an-
swered, his voice barely audible. "Yeah." It was all he
could say.
  Dann brou~ht Zak over, and introduced him to his
companions. "This is my buddy, Zak Spar," he said
simply.
  Zak was charmed by Nila, awed by Rian, relieved by
Ween's shyness, and flabbergasted when the towering
Purpur shook his hand and meowed. "You're the
heroes of the galaxy," Zak said, wonder making his
voice as bright as the plates on the Hazard's hull.

  "All in a day's work," Rian remarked, with a wave of
his hand and a shrug of his shoulders.
  "Captain Rian's modesty makes it seem just a shade
easier than it actually was," Nila said, turning Zak's
knees to jelly with her smile.
  "How'd you ever get away, 01' buddy?" Dannasked,
freeing Zak from Nila' s gentle spell.
  "Luck." Zak shrugged as he turned to his friend.
"Just plain 01' good luck."
  "What kind pfluck?"
  "Well, when that homie's minimissile went off in our
house, the concussion blew me right out the window. I
landed smack in the middle of that big, ugly Ekra
bush - you know, the one I always hated to trim -and I
the empire soldiers didn't even see me. When I came to,
they where gone. So I lit out for the hills."
  "You always were lucky, Zakki," Dann said. He felt
a hand on his shoulder, and turned around to see Garth-
ane beside him, smiling like the sun on a summer's day.
  "Zak Spar," he said, putting an arm around the shoul-
ders of both men, "I'd like you to meet Garthane, High
Master of the Fellowship of Light. . . my father."
  Dann relished the effect his announcement had on his
friend. IfZak's mouth had opened any wider, he could
have docked a hydro-skimmer in it.
  "May the waters favor you, sir," Zak said, using the
Aquaean benediction, shaking Garthane' s hand as if he
were using a manual bilge pump. "Your spn's quite a 
guy, I can tell you. The best there is." 
  "The Infinite be with you," Garthane replied, re-
sponding with equal courtesy. "My son's merit shows
itself in his choice of friends, Zak Spar."
  Zak gulped as the great man said this. He.lowered his
eyes and mumbled, "Thank you, sir."
  When he looked up, Zak found himself surrounded
by smiles. Dann broke the silence as he spoke to his
companions.
  "The waters have favored me today," he said. "To-
morrow, they will favor you."

  Tanella I and II, the twin suns that warmed Aquaea,
shone gently through the waterworld's enveloping
cloudbanks, causing the hydro-skimmer that carried
Dann and his companions to cast a soft, double shadow
on the surface of the ocean. The craft was headed out
toward the heart of the Western Sea, as Dann went in
search of his former guardian, Lii-Arc, chief of the
Quee, the dolphin-folk who inhabit the planet's waters.
  The night before, when Dann informed his friends of
his plan to take them into the waters and introduce them
to Lii-Arc, they were excited by the prospect, and
readily agreed to go with him. But there were two
notable exceptions: Rian and Purpur.
  "I've strung out the stars like pearls on a necklace,"
the pirate said, "and descended into the bowels of the
black planet. But I'll be damned if I stick my head under
water for anyone!"
  Purpur's reaction was one of puzzlement. It was his
custom to eat fish, not consort with them.
  "It's all right, Purr," Nila said, stroking the felinoid's
luminous silver mane. "The Quee are mammals, just as
we are."
  "Yeah," grunted Rian. "Just one big, happy family.
Well, you peoplejust go right ahead and turn yourselves
into tishbait if you want to, but I've got absolutely no
interest in piscine affairs."
  "Don't tell me you're. . . afraid to come with us?"
Nila asked teasingly.
  
  The skipper of the Hazard glowered at her. "Lady,
 the thing that can scare Red Rian hasn't been created
yet. Ask your late pal, Blorg, how frightened I can get.
Or that pile of radioactive debris who runs the Dark
Empire."
  "Come on, Rian," Ween Leever said. "We're gonna
see things that almost no one else has ever seen. Aren't
you curious?"
  "Nah. Count me out." Rian replied, affecting an air
of unconcern as he turned away from his compansions.
  "I've never known you to back away from anything,
Rian," said Nila.
  "I'm not backing away," he replied, without turning
around to face her. "It'sjustthatI..."
  "What is it, then?" she asked gently.
  When Red Rian turned around, he had a sheepish grin
on his face. His hands flapped helplessly at his sides like
fish dying on a beach. "I can't swim," he muttered.
  Two hours before they they went out on the ocean, i
Dann took Rian and Purpur to Merport's municipal ~
pool, gave them depth-suits (he'd ordered a special one
made for the giant cat-man the day before), and showed
them how to negotiate the fluid medium.
  It turned out to be an experience he would never
forget, what with Purpur clawing the water and yowling
with fear, and Rian bonking his head on the bottom of
the pool, his hands and feet working totally independent
of each other, all the while spluttering a string of
obscenities never before heard in the Primula galaxy.
Dann laughed until his sides ached and the visor of his
depth-suit fogged over.
  But by the end of the session, his pupils had been
transformed into passable swimmers. In fact, Purpur,
once he accepted the properties of the new medium, I
was able to move about in the water almost as gracefully!
as he did on land; and Rian displayed a stroke and kick'
well worth developing. They would be all right in the
Western Sea.
  
  When the hydro-glider was about two hours out of
Merport, Rian even began to boast about how easily
had had mastered the art of swimming, how naturally it
had all come to him. "It's actually very simple," he
said. "All you've got to do is let go, and trust your
instincts."
  He was about to elaborate, but was interrupted by a
shriek of .laughter. He looked around and saw Dann,
doubled-up over the glider's port rail, guffawing loudly
as he recalled the sight of the skipper of the Hazard
during the first part of the swimming lesson.
  Rian's jaw snapped shut and his eyes went wide. The
crimson flush that spread over his face muted the au-
burn of his long hair and beard. He muttered something
about wanting to check-out the hydro-glider's instru-
ment panel and stalked off.
  Purpur's massive frame shook with silent cat-
laughter. "You mean he was just star-gassing again?"
Ween Leever asked when Dann finally straightened-up.
Even Garthane was chuckling. Nila summed it up best,
in her courteous way: "He does tend to exaggerate
somewhat, doesn't he?"
  An hour later, Dann took the wheel from Zak, men-
tally contrasting the happy voyage with the last one
they had taken together on the day that the skies went
dark with aircraft and Merport burned in the distance.
  After being at the wheel a half hour, Dann was
greeted by the breathtaking sight of hundreds of sleek,
gleaming shapes breaking the water, leaping high into
the air, and then diving back into the sea. The journey's
over, he thought. Lii-Arc searacer is here!
  
  Immediately after this sight, Dann cut the engines,
dropped anchor, left the cabin, and told his companions
to don their depth-suits. He was the first one to go over
the side. Red Rian, not to be outdone in front of Nila,
followed hard on the young Aquaean's heels. But he
lost his footing on the slippery rail, and pitched head-
first into the water like a fish dropped from the claws of
some clumsy sea bird.
  As his suit's scanners bLeeped a soft tattoo, Dann
peered through his visor and watched the silvery form
in the distance grow larger with its approach. Then,
when the great dolphin turned and went into the
infinity-symbol-loop that the Quee used to greet their
own, Dan's heart leaped with it. He dove forward and
kicked off, leaving his friends behind as he went to greet
his spiritual father.
  "Lii-Arc!" he cried through his suit's speaker in
delphinese, the barking, tweeting speech of the Quee.
  "Lii-Arc sea-racer, father of my heart!" The great dol-
phin circled him three times, nudging him affectionately
as it did. "Dan Oryzon, son of my soul!" it said in the
difficult speech of humans. Then, as the young man put
his arm over the back of the chief of the Quee, each
reverted to the language he was most at home in.
  "The child of my spirit has done many wondrous
things,". Lii-Arc said. "And now he knows what I
could not tell him."
  "Yes, I know now, master of the waters," Dann
replied. "I know who my parents were, and why I was
brought to Aquaea. And I have brought those I love to
meet you."
  They swam over the six depth-suited and waiting
figures. The dolphin-chief glided back and forth before
them, stopping when Garthane spoke to him in del-
phinese and stroked his underbelly. "I am pleased to
see my lord again," the High Master said. "And 1 thank
him with all my heart for guiding the growth of my son's
spirit."

  "No thanks are necessary, Master Garthane," Lii-
Arc replied. "Rather than having given me a burden,
you added to my joys." He rubbed up against the High
Master, who now stroked him with both hands.
  Acting as translator, Dann introduced Lii-Arc to his
friends. All were greeted courteously and com-
plimented by the master of the seaways. When Lii-Arc
spoke to Red Rian, he could not resist adding these
words, referring to the star-pirate's clumsy plunge into
the waters of the Western Sea: "The son of my spirit is
most fortunate to have a friend who is such a fine
diver."
  To everyone's surprise, Rian parried this affection-
ate thrust with much aplomb. "My lord will be
amazed," he said, "to learn that his son's friend mas-
tered the waters in only two short hours."
  Lii-Arc broke out into the trilling, high-pitched laugh-
ter of the Quee. "Captain Rian," he said when he had
recovered, "is now at home in the water as well as deep
space. In the name of my people, I bid you all wel-
come." He t!Jrned away from them and emitted a series
of whistling sounds.
  Dann's scanners began to sound again, and in a few'
moments he could see the tribe approaching, swimming
just below the ocean's surface, their backs gleaming in
the sunlight like silver torpedos. The dolphins recog-
nized Dann, and saluted him as befits a sea-brother of
the Quee. When they had gathered around the visitors,
Lii.,Arc introduced Dann's companions.
  
  Purpur was the center of attraction, and the dolphins
nudged each other aside in their curiosity, trying to peer
into the visor of the cat-man's depth-suit. Humans they
were used to, but the felinoid was a creature they had
never seen before, Purpur being the first of his kind ever
to venture beneath the waters. At first he yowled, un-
settled by the presence of beings who resembled fish
larger than himself. But the friendly, gentle manner of
the Quee soon had him purring through his speaker and
stroking the bellies of those closest to him, while the
dolphins cooed and tweeted in appeciation of his affec-
tionate nature. And Rian translated his cat-speech to
Dann, who translated it in turn into detphinese, while
Purpur told the Quee of the felinoids of Yahwoo.
  "Well, you fat old tabby," Rian said, nudging his
friend at the end of the latter's recital, "that's gonna
make one hell of a tale when we liberate Yahwoo."-
Purpur nodded, warmed by memories of his
homeworld.
  Lii-Arc questioned Garthane about his and Dann's
adventures, and was told of the armada's end, Blorg's
death, and the horror and power that was Ylang- Ylang.
Then the dolphin-lord told his guest of the part his
people had played in the resistance struggle.
  The Quee danced in honor of their guests, and Dann's
companions were overwhelmed by the grace and
beauty of their performance. And as they said farewell
to the visitors, Ween Leever amused them greatly by
asking technical questions and then delivering long-
winded explanations regarding the use of sonar and the
potential of echolocation systems. Rian groaned, and
told Ween he considered his explanations to be about as
relevant as lecturing the birds on flight.
  That night, on the way back to Merport, Dann and
Nila stood together at the stern of the glider ,looking out
over the board expanse of the ocean. "You must be
very happy tonight," she said, taking his hand. "Your
cup is full."
  He raised a finger in the air. "Almost full, though
only a madman would dare to ask for more. But I can
still hope."

  Nila responded to this in a low, musical voice. "Yes.
You can still hope."
  Score one for the kid from Aquaea, Red Rian
thought, as he came out of the cabin and saw the pair
kissing, silhouetted against the moonlit sea. He sighed
as the weight of discouragement made itself felt in his
insides like ballast settling in the hold of a freighter.
  "Well," he said, muttering to the waves of the West-
ern Sea, "there's always Ylang. . . "

  When Blorg emerged from the monstrous dream-
world ofYlang's ecstasies, the first thing he did was to
ask his lord and master to grant him one thing.
  What is that one thing, my sweet Blorg? the Devourer
asked, thundering contentedly.
  The privilege of killing Aaasp. For he has governed,
albeit briefly, in my stead, and will never again be be
satisfied with a lesser position. Discipline requires this
as well. So I ask you to grant me this privilege, Father
Ylang.
  That is no privilege, my son, the Devourer purred.
That is your right.

  When Dann docked the hydro-glider at Merport's
central pier, another reunion was in store for him: Al-
tektu and D-Anacom had come to Aquaae. The android
couple were as warm and gracious as ever; their eyes
still shone like dia,onds in the green setting of their
permaflesh features,~nd their slender hands still moved
through the air with all the grace of temple-dancers.
They received a warm welcome from Garthane and the
others and were introduced to Zak, who was leaving
that night to teach guerrilla warfare to the League's
forces. Only Rian was aloof and reserved in his greet-
ing. Altektu and his consort were hurt by this, but they
said nothing.

  "Say, skipper, y'know something?" Ween Leever
hissed out of the side of his mouth, as Dann and the
androids walked ahead of the group. "You're a bigot. A
snob and a bigot."
  Rian glowered at him. "Don't give me that crap, you
baggy-eyed little Andy-Lover," he side-mouthed back
at Ween. "How many times have I got to say it before
the message penetrates your dura-plated skull: A man's
a man, and a machine's a machine. . . and both should
know their place."
  "I'm afraid it's not that simple any more, Captain
Rian," Garthane said, having overheard the exchange.
He turned and walked alongside the pirate. "Androids
such as Altektu and D-Anacom have been self-refining
entities for several centuries now. In fact they have
been directed their evolution to the point where they
possess most of our virtues and few of our faults. You
might even consider them the possessors, in their elec-
tronic way, of souls the equal of our own. The only
differences between them and ourselves are that they
are no self-reproducing and have no need to breathe."
  Rian greatly respected the High Master, and tried to
listen to him with an open mind.
  "And did you know," continued Garthane, "That
their secret word for us-breathing creatures, that
is-was coined by Altektu himself? They call us bio-
mechs . . . And I should think that their kindness and
respect for life in all its forms would serve an example to
sinners like ourselves."
  Rian thought about the affection the androids dis-
played toward Dann and each other. "But that's just
what annoys me," he replied, "they way they ape
human behavior, the way they seem to actually be. . ."
  "In love?" Garthane asked.
  "Yeah, as if they really. . ." 
  "They do mean it, Captain Rian."

  This made the buccaneer wince as if he had been
stabbed. The High Master had an uncanny habit of
finishing the star-pirate's sentences when ever he
wanted to convince him of something. 
  "You mean. . . ?"
  "Yes I do, Captain. If you would risk your affections'"
more often-the lady Nila excepted, of course--they
would be returned more frequently."
  Rian felt a warm flush creep up the back of his neck.
Garthane was right, as usual. He had just realized that
his failure to recognize the android pair's spiritual and
emotional existence had its roots in his own fear of
opening up, of making himself vulnerable to life.
  He lowered his head and puffed-out his cheeks, ashe
began to study the moon's reflection in the toe of his
glossy boot. Several seconds passed before he looked
up again, a humbler man than the one who had looked
down. "Excuse me, sir," he said to Garthane as he
walked away from him. "I've got some dues to pay."
  The two androids were still talking to Dann when Red
Rian came up beside them. He hemmed and hawed until
they turned to face him.. "Sir, tady," he said, sweating
andbreathingheavily."Uh,AI,D-Ana.. ."Rianused
the forms the couple preferred when addressed by their
friends. "I've, uh . . . come to ask your forgiveness for
my, ah-h-hhh . . . stupidity. I haven't been very fair to
you, and. . . "
  The androids smiled at him sympathetically. They
knew how hard it must be for him, the ultimate self-
sufficient man, to apologize to anyone. "No need to say
more," D-Ana said, touching his arm with her cool
fingers. "We understand."

  "And we thank you, Captain Rian," Altektu added,
  "for this great courtesy."
  "Oh-h-h-hhh," Rian said, wheezing his relief like a
busted bellows, "thanks a lot, you two." He backed
off, grinning like a idiot, his hands fish-flapping for the
second time that day. "I, uh. . . think I'll be going back
to headquarters, folks. I've, uh . . . got a bunch of
things to do, you know." Again he grinned that idiot-
grin of extreme embarassment. "See you around."
  Thump! He stepped into a coil of rope by the entrance
to the pier, and fell flat on his back. His friends all
crowded around him and helped Rian to his feet. No one
laughed. . . not a soul. And best of all, Nila gave him a
big kiss before he left, and whispered, "You're even
braver than I thought, skipper."
  The pirate whistled The Girlfrom the Outworlds all
the way back to his quarters. All things considered, he
thought, it hasn't been such a bad day at all.


                   Chapter 3
           Strategies and Starships



   Whaang! Whaang! Haaass! Red laser-beams whined
over his head and flared in the dim corridor as Aaasp
scrambled around a corner, gasping for breath. Blorg
the Devastator was hot on his trail. Aaasp lurched down
another corridor and headed for the shadowy pile of
ruins that marked the site of the oldest part of the
ancient city. Once he entered that cyclopean maze of
rubble and fallen stone, he was sure that the lord of the
Ysss would never find him.
  Racing around another corner, Aaasp lost his footing
on the damp stone and rolled down the steep incline that
led to the abandoned palaces of Kordor's long-dead
founders. As he got to his feet he cursed his luck, and he
cursed the day he was hatched in the rocky lowlands of
his native Sserp. The stewardship of the Dark Empire
should have been his to keep, but Blorg, with the luck of
Hiisazel the serpent-god, had miraculously been
snatched from the jaws of implacable death. And now
the Devastator, who brooked no competition when it
came to Ylang's favors, was after him, determined to
add Aaasp's number to the legions of hell.
  He entered the ruins and ducked behind an enormous
fallen column carved in high-relief with the hideous
images of the ancient Mordlings. Ahead lay a virtual
labyrinth of stone and metal, the debris of the oldest
civilization in the whole of the known universe. The
darkness before him promised safety and time to think,
time to devise a plan whereby he could save his own
life. Breathing heavily, the reptiloid sat down on a ledge
of stone. He was not afraid (for the Ysss fear only
Ylang), but his reptilian instinct for survival was func-
tioning at its highest level. He relaxed, and began to
think of the best way of contacting the Dark Emperor,
who would surely (in light of his past services) intervene
in his behalf.
  Haaass! Aaasp sat up suddenly, as a small stone
rulled down from above and bounced off his boot. Peer-
ing through his visor, the reptiloid looked up, the pupils
of his lidless eyes dilating with the attempt to see into
the surrounding gloom. He thought he could make out a
shape in the blackness, the shape of something large,
something tensed and ready to strike. Aaasp sent his
thoughts out to probe the mind of the thing above him.
Haaa-aa-ass! To his shock, they were met by the cold
thoughts of Blorg himself!
  Surprised, my lord Aaasp? Well, don't be. You're not
theftrst to be hunted in this place. Aaasp heard the click
of a switch, followed by the crackling hum of an infra-
red heat-scanner's activation. No one escapes me. You i
should know that. Aaasp slid off the ledge and]
straightened up, backing into a smooth mass of polished
stone that felt as cold as the grave. Then, in his mind, he
heard Blorg pronounce the ritual formula of the Y sss, ,
the one they always used before a killing: Death make i
you welcome. The scarlet flare of the laser-rifle was the
last thing Aaasp ever saw. . .

  On the way back to their quarters, the android couple
informed Dann of their plans. "We are returning to
Astyx," D-Ana said. Dann remembered the city and its
Pleasure Dome, that incredible psycho-sensorium
where he had first met his two friends. "On Garthane's
advice, the League has ordered the conversion of the
Pleasure Dome into a treatment center for the psychic
casualties of the Dark Empire's brutality."
  "D-Ana and I have been chosen to head this proj-
ect," said Altektu.
   "They couldn't have picked anyone better," Dann
replied, shaking Altektu's hand and kissing D-Ana on
the cheek. "You did a hell of a job on me. This is
certainly a challenge worthy of your skills."
  "You must visit us at the center when you have
time," Altektu said as they entered the android
couple's quarters.
  "As soon as I'm able, AI," Dann replied.
  "And now, we'd like you to meet someone," D-Ana
said, opening the door to the room adjoining the one
they were in.
  Dann followed them in, and saw a young woman
looking out of a window, staring up into the gentle night
of Aquaea. She stiffened involuntarily when they
entered, but made no move to acknowledge their pres-
ence.
  "Val," D-Ana said softly, "we've brought someone
to meet you." The young woman continued to stare out
into the night.
  The androids approached and flanked her, D-Ana
stroking her hair and Altektu taking her hand in his own.
  "Our friend is here," Altektu said in a gentle voice.
  "The one we told you about. We love and trust him very
much, and wish to share him with you." The young
woman still did not move from the window. "He won't
hurt you, Val," D-Ana said soothingly. "He is very
kind, very gentle. Turn around and see him."

  Slowly with the movement of someone caught in a
bad dream, she turned to face Dann. And as she did, the
sight of her beauty made him catch his breath. She was
small and finely made, yet full-bodied for all her delicate
appearance. Her hair, dark as midnight in the depths of
the ocean, rolled down to her waist in lustrous waves.
The perfect oval of her face was as lovely as any Dann
had ever seen, with its high cheekbones, slender and
aquiline nose, full lips, and vaulting eyebrows. And her
eyes were dark, reflecting the room's light the way deep
mountain pools reflect the stars. But those pools were
troubled; they ran cold, fed by the springs of pain and'
terror.
  "Valennia," D-Ana said, "this is Dan Oryzon. He's
a native of this world."
  "I'm glad to meet you, Valennia," Dann said, smiling
at her. But she made no reply, and merely continued to
stare at him. When he looked into her eyes again, Dann
realized that she was hiding somewhere deep within
herself.
  "Use your powers of mind, Dann," Altektu whis-
pered. "Go inside her mind and comfort her. Find out
why she won't speak to anyone." .
  Dann gazed into Valennia's eyes and gently entered
her mind, using the powers he had acquired through his
initiation into the Fellowship of Light. Don't be afraid,
he thought to her. I won't hurt you in any way.
  I feel you inside me, her thought-voice replied.
Please don't hurt me . . . If you do, I'll kill myself I
swear it.
  No, I won't. You're the friend of those I love and;
trust. And I'm asking you to trust me.
  Don't hurt me any more. . . I hurt so much already.
  I won't. I swear it by the Infinite-the source of all
life.
  
  Then she nodded almost imperceptibly, and opened
her mind to Dann Oryzon.
  In a turbulent montage of images, he saw the mosaic
of her life on Dusilium, a world in the same sector of the
Primula galaxy as Aquaea:
  Loving family, friends, a happy childhood. Adoles-
cence and initiation into the mysteries of womanhood.
Academic honors. The face of a smiling young man,
Valennia's sweetheart. . .
  Then a shriek rang out in her mind, as Dann saw the
chillingly-familiar sight of the black-uniformed invad-
ers. He saw the young man die, lasered-down by the
empire's soldiers.
  Valennia began to sob quietly. Altektu and
D-Anacom glanced at each other.
  What happened then, Valennia? Dann asked, cares-
sing her mind as he coaxed her to continue.
  Horrible. It's horrible, her mental-voice replied,
quavering with the onset of panic.
  Dann radiated his inner tranquility at her. It's best to
get it out. Then Al and D-Ana -can help you get rid of
your pain. I'll tell them, and they'll be able to help you. I
swear it.
  Gradually, the painful thoughts formed themselves
into blurred and jagged images, as Dann saw the torture
and execution of her parents through Valennia's own
eyes. Then a towering Y sss appeared in her thoughts;
he felt the chill recollection of its cold, probing mind,
and the strings of its serpentine threats and mental
tortures.
  Tears flooded Valennia's eyes and ran down her
cheeks in rivulets. Her sobs grew louder; her body
started to heave.
  
  Altektu took D-Anacom's hand. "That's the first
time she's been able to shed tears," he whispered.
  Dann saw the Y sss turn away with a wave of its hand.
Suddenly, he felt a tug and heard the sound of fabric
tearing. Then, as Valennia must have turned, so did her
memories. Dann saw a pack of leering, humanoid sol-
diers closing in, their hands flexed into claws, the reek
of their sweat strong and acrid in the air. One face came
closer than the others, and Dann felt Valennia's body
heave as she recalled the way she spat into it with all the
force she could muster. The face went out-of-focus, and
its lips closed over hers brutally, bringing the salt taste
of blood to Dann' s mind. Hands tore at her body, rip-
ping away her clothing. The weight of the body behind
the cruel mouth took Valennia down to the floor. Hands
grasped her limbs roughly, and wrenched them apart.
And then. . .
  Valennia screamed like a wounded animal, and col-
lapsed in Dann's arms. The two androids came up, and
helped him carry her over to the bed across the room.
When they had put her down, Dann told his friends all
he had seen and felt in her mind. "It was horrible," he
said.
  Altektu shook his head. "No wonder she would not
speak."
  "Now we know what to do for her," D-Ana said.
They both thanked him.
  "I tried to comfort her as best I could," Dann told
them. "She's suffered an awful lot."
  Valennia's eyelids began to flutter. They all leaned
over the bed as she regained consciousness. At first she
did not recognize them, but then her features softened
as she realized where she was. Dann stared into the
dark pools of her eyes; they seemed to sparkle with a
softer light than before. She reached out, took his hand,
and spoke the first words she had uttered in many long
months:
  "Thank you ... Dann Oryzon," she said, squeezing
his hand.
  Dann was so moved by this he could hardly speak.
  "Be well, Valennia," he whispered. "I have to leave
for Aurea Solis tonight, so I'U say goodbye now.
Trust your best instincts."
  "May we meet again," she whispered.
  Dann smiled at her.

  What you see before you, my lord Blorg, are the tools
of the Mordlings, the mightiest race ever to walk be-
neath any sun.
  Mighty Ylang honors its servant with the sight of the
hidden workshops of its ancestors.
  It is time again that the science of the Mordlings be
enlisted in the service of conquest and comination, the
end to which it was ordained. Ylang replied, its
thoughts guiding Blorg's steps.
  The reptiloid shook his head in wonder as he sur-
veyed the great vaulted workshops of the titanic breed
that had ruled the Morde galaxy ages ago. The strange,
intricate machines were built to be manned by giants,
and the reptiloid realized that creatures of his size could
never hope to operate them. But my lord. he thought,
baffled by this problem, no creatures exist who possess
the size and competence to run these wondrous ma-
chines.
  Then we shall have to create them. purred Ylang,
thundering in its distant lair.
  All things are possiblefor the Master of the Universe.
Blorg replied to the tyrant. Will mighty Ylang father a
race of giants. and endow them with the requisite intel-
ligence?
  Ylang will do more than that. The answer to his
question came couched in the chilling waves of the Dark
Emperor's obscene metal-laughter. Ylang will embody
a paradox, and father its fathers.
  Haaass! Blorg never understood the emperor when it
spoke like that. Please enlighten your Jervant, great
Ylang.
  Again Blorg's mind was buffeted by the awful laugh-
ter of the Devourer. Can my sweet Blorg not guess?
  The lord of the Y sss thought for a moment. I cannot
comprehend this riddle, my father. He smelt the sour
reek ofYlang's disappointment.
  It is unfortunate, it sighed, that my lord Blorg is
proficient only at those games which entail suffering
and death. By the statement ,father my fathers, I menat
that I would alone the likeness of my ancestors, the
Mordlings.
  How will Ylang do that?
  I shall take the genetic imprints ofMordlings, which I
have within my memory-banks, and impose them on
certain hospitable cell-cultures. . . thus recreating, in
effect, my long-dead race. And then what will happen,
my lord and master? Then, 0 Blorg, you shall see
wonders.

  When the Hazard had entered hyperspace, on its way
to the golden planet, Red Rian left the control-center in
the company of Garthane and went to Ween Leever's
workshop. The boy-genius was celebrating his birthday
by hosting a party for all his-shipmates. Drinks were
being served by the barrel-shaped roller-robot, and the
party was already going at full-blast when the two men
arrived. Garthane blessed Ween, and wished him a
happy birthday. Rian winked, jabbed Ween with an
elbow and said, "One step closer to the grave, eb,
kiddo?" Ween rolled his eyes in the direction of the
ship's upper-deck and groaned. It was his belief that
everyone in this life had a burden of some kind to bear
. . . and Rian was surely his. He was so upset by the
star-pirate's gallows-humor that he snatched a drink
from the passing robot's tray.
  O- V -1 immediately turned and reproached his mas-
ter. "This is a departure from custom, Mr. Ween," it
said, static filling in for emotional coloration on its
talkie-track. "One's birthday is not a sufficient excuse
for the surrender of virtue. And, as I'm sure you also
know. . . "
  Rian snorted into laughter as the garrulous robot
droned on.
  "Mind your own business, Ovie," Ween snapped,
blushing to the roots of his frizzy, blond hair. "You can
just shut you-no, wait a minute, I've got a better idea.
Why don't you talk to Captain Rian a while? He's
obviously very interested in what you're saying."
Ween grinned maliciously at his skipper and arch-
tormentor.
  "Captain Rian," the robot said, making the conver-
sational transition without missing a beat, "you're a
man of vast experience. Do you think it right that a
person, one who never touches a drop to drink, mind
you. . . "
  "Oh, stellar damnation," the skipper of the Hazard
moaned. He swigged down his drink, set it down, and
hastily grabbed two more from the robot tray. This
gabby bucket of bolts could talk the visor off a Y sss, he
thought, glaring at Ween Leever, who bowed to him
before he left to join a crowd of well-wishers. As the
robot blabbered on, Rian gave it a sickly smile and
looked around for the nearest escape-hatch. Before he
walked away, Garthane indulged in the slight indiscre-
tion of reading the pirate's next thoughts, which were as
follows:
 
  Now I know what hell is: being in a room without
doors, tied to a chair ,forced to listen to this blithering
mechanoidfor all eternity.
  Finally, at the end of his tether after several long
minutes of courteous attention and frantic scanning,
Rian distracted the robot by pointing out.a potential
victim, and made his escape, scurrrying over to Ween
Leever's side. Frowning like a storm on a summer
horizon, the pirate waited for Ween, who was just tak-
ing something out of his personal locker , to turn around.
  "You sneaky little turd." Rian glared as the tech-
head turned his way. "You thumb-headed little twink. I
ought to part your hair with a laser-beam for that."
  "Now, skipper," Ween replied, shutting the locker
behind him, "you know how fond Ovie is of you. Be-
sides, I told him how you made it up with Al and D-Ana,
and now he hopes you might think of promoting him."
  "I'll promote him," Red Rian snarled. "Right up the
nearest torpedo tube! "Say, what's that?" The pirate
pointed to the framed holo-image Ween held in his
hands. Ween held it up for Rian to see. There, in three
dimensions and the colors of life, stood a man (no longer
young) with flaring white hair, bulbous nose, and an
enormous belly that was supported by two spindly legs.
The figure struck a jaunty pose and wore "the tights and
doublet of Ween's homeworld, Greeb. Rian thought the
man was the funniest-looking humanoid he'd ever set
eyes on.
  "He looks like a planet on toothpicks," the pirate
said,just before he was shaken by a wave of un con troll-
able laughter. "Who," he wheezed, once he was able to
stop laughing, "is that silly man?"
  Ween glared at him sourly. "For your information,
Rian, that happens to be my beloved uncle." By this
time, Nila, Dann, Purpur, Garthane and several of the
Taylians had gathered around them, drawn by the mag-
net of the redbeard' s merriment.

  "Your. . . uncle?" Rian repeated, still gasping for
breath. "That man is your. . . uncle?" He asked again;
backing away as his chest began to heave.
  "Yes," Ween snapped. "What of it?"
  "Yaa-haahaahaahaa-aaa-aaa r' was Rian's only re-
ply. Screaming with laughter, the star-pirate lurched
out of the workshop. His demented cackling startled the
skeleton-crew on duty above-decks, and awakened
their relief, who were sleeping aft.
  The others all took a good look at the holo-image. . .
and did their best to keep from laughing. All except
Garthane. The High Master stared at the image for
several seconds; then his eyes rolled up in his head, and
he stood immobile before Ween and his companions,
scarcely breathing.
  "What made you take out that holo-image?" Garth-
ane asked, when he came out of his brief trance.
  Ween looked down at the thing, and then back up at
Garthane. "I don't know," he said, scratching his head.
  "I just got an urge to take it out."
Garthane studied him. "You obviously have great
extrasensory powers, Ween. Because Ijust received a
communication from the Fellowship. . . and it told me
that your uncle was on his way to Aurea Solis."
  "Well," exclaimed the side-eyed Ween, "how do
you like that for a birthday present?"

  When the Hazard touched-down on Aurea Solis,
Garthane went directly to Libera's great hall, along
with the rest of the Hazard's crew and passengers, and
coordinated the Fellowship's strategies with those of
the League of Free Worlds. Since the defeat of the.
star-armada, Garthane's plans were unanimously ac-
cepted as a rule, and that night was no exception.
  "To sum up, ladies and gentlemen of the League,"
the High Master said, scanning the assembly with a
serene stare, "I shall repeat the essentials of the joint-
strategy we have agreed upon.
  "One: Even though Primula has been saved and the
occupied worlds liberated, this is only a temporary
condition. Ylang's forces will return, one day. I'm sure
you're all aware of this. Therefore, the Primula galaxy,
one of the richest and most prosperous star-seas in the
known universe, must continue to devote all its availa-
ble resources to the preparation for the coming struggle.
Last time, we rose to the great challenge in a few scant
months; to prepare ourselves for the next encounter,
we have the luxury of time-a year, perhaps two.
Ylang's forces are deployed over the length and breadth
of its vast empire, and the Dark Emperor will not risk
intergalactic rebellion by massing his starfleets and ar-
mies to confront us at present."
  He gave the audience a sad smile. "It is indeed a pity
to expend the resources of this galaxy in war-
production, but that is what we must do. And if we are
fortunate enough to ransom our future again, better
days will come.
  "Two: The Fellowship's recruitin.g .goes well, better
than I had hoped." He leaned forward, raised an eye-
brow, and nodded his head slowly at the assembly.
  "The souls of my fellow-Primulans are not so flabby as
I had thought." A wave of laughter rolled in from the
audience. "The Era of the Great Peace, long may it be
remembered, has kept you all well and strong," he
continued. "You have supplied many worthy initiates
to the guardian order of your home galaxy. With the
help of the Infinite, its spiritual strength and collective
powers of mind will be hugely increased the next time
we engage in a life-and-death struggle with Ylang-
Ylang."

  The audience cheered and applauded loudly.
  "Three: We are proceeding immediately to outline a
strategy whereby we may commence the liberation of
our nearest neighbors in the Taylos galaxy. I would
remind you that we owe much to the Taylians, as repre-
sented by Captain Rian and his admirable crew."
  The audience cheered and applauded again, Red Rian
and the crew of the Hazard the loudest of all.
  "Four: After proceeding with the implementation of
the above-mentioned projects, the combined forces of
the League and the Fellowship will also consider it their
duty to engage and crush any enemy vessels or
starfleets of reasonable size that they might happen to
encounter, and to spread the message of resistance and
rebellion as far as it is in their power to do so."
  All the people in the great hall got to their feet and
cheered wildly for several minutes. When the uproar
had finally subsided, Garthane stretched out his arms
and blessed the assembly. "Infinity is at the heart of all
things," he said. "All things are one."
  A hush fell over the crowd as Garthane left the
speaker's dais. Red Rian, sitting with Nila and Dann in
the midst of his crew, leaned over to nudge Ween and
whisper out of the side of his mouth. "This is as good a
reason as a man can ever find to tie one on. If you so
much as open your mouth about how I've been drinking
when I stagger back to quarters tonight, I'm gonna have
you welded into that blasted locker of yours, where
you'll spend the rest of eternity with that holo-image of
your funny-looking uncle." Before Ween could open
his mouth to reply, the buccaneer stood up and left.
  Dann heard Ween sigh. As he turned to look at him,
the boy-genius spoke in a low voice. "Y'know some-
thing?" he asked rhetorically. "My uncle is kinda
funny-looking." Dann had to smile as Ween added,
  "But don't you dare tell Rian I said so."

  After the celebration had ended, Rian, somewhat
drunk and inclining to the sentimental, staggered over
to the spaceport, intending to gaze at the good ship
Hazard in the moonlight. "There's m'baby," he said,
when he saw the bright-plated craft gleaming in the
distance, and lurched past the smiling guards at the
main gate. But Red Rian never reached the Hazard.
Half-way out to his ship, he stopped to gawk at the
strangest sight ever seen in Libera, capital city of Aurea
Solis: an enormous starship-an empire cruiser, in
fact-escorted by four League destroyers, was in the
act of touching down on the free soil of the center of
galactic resistance.
  "What in the name of the Red Dwarf is that?" Rian
soliloquized, as he stumbled in the direction of the great
black vessel.
  There was an extraordinarily heavy guard at the
launch-pad, but the security officer waved the hero of
Primula through without a second thought. Blinking his
eyes, shaking his head and muttering to himselfindisbe-
lief, the star-pirate watched as the ground-crew rolled
the flexiladder up to the side of the cruiser. He was
already amazed, but his astonishment was multiplied by
its square root when the ship's door swung open. There
before him, posing flamboyantly in the hatchway,
decked-out in scarlet cape, pointed shoes, forest-green
doublet and tights, was the ridiculous man in the holo-
image, that bulbous personage with legs like toothpicks
. . . Ween Leever's uncle! ,
  
  The chief security-officer saluted Rian as the strangej
man waddled down the flexiladder. "I may be drunk,"
Rian muttered to himself, "but I'm not that drunk." He
took a deep breath, walked up to the foot of the tlexilad-
der, and stood face to face with the stranger.
  "Peace and brotherhood to the brave souls of the
august and multiplex Primula galaxy, from their broth-
ers and sisters in the great star-fields of Taylos," the
man said. He spoke in a voice that was located some-
where between a drawl and a whine. Taking off his tall,
pointed hat, the man bowed with great difficulty, and
puffed like a compressor when he straightened up. His
gimlet eyes twinkled as he stood there beaming at the
crowd and drumming with his fingers on the wide brim
of his hat.
  Red Rian wasthe first to speak. "I don' believe this,"
he said, leaning over and poking his sausage of an index
finger into the protruding belly of the visitor.
  "Unhand me, sir!" the stranger yowled at Rian. "I
warn you, I have killed men twice as good as yourself
for half the provocation." As his eyes glittered with
annoyance, his hose began to twitch with curiosity.
  "What is this strange thing 1 smell upon the red-bearded
gentleman's breath? Why, it's the unforgettable odor of
spiritous liquor! How strange; how remarkable. Who
knows, sir. . . if you were to offer me a little nip, I might
even be persuaded to spare your life."
  Rian's eyes were locked-in on the huge mass of the
man's red, swollen and vein-tracked nose. When he
was finally able to look away from that awesome organ,
he asked, "You're Ween's uncle, aren't you?"
  "Bull'seye, m'boy!" the stranger replied." Vax
Waxnax Leever, beloved uncle of Ween Nerdeen
Leever, at your service."
  As soon as the man pronounced his name, a name as
unusual as his appearance, Rian broke out into howling
laughter. "Ween who?" he asked, gritting his teeth and
clutching his sides.
"Ween Nerdeen," the stranger replied, squinting
suspiciously at the buccaneer. And when Rian
exploded with the start of another chain-reaction of
guffaws he straightened up, frowned, and said, "You're
drunk, sir."
   "That's right, sir. I am drunk," Rian replied, when
he'd recovered from the seizure.
  "Tell me one thing, sir," the fat man drawled, in that
wheezy voice of his.
  Rian cocked his head to one side and squinted at the
man. "What's that, sir?"
  Ween's uncle gave him a shifty smile. "Could you
stand a little company, sir?"

  Blorg was restless. He paced up and down nervously
as the crews labored at the renovation of the huge vaults
that were once the workshops of the ancient Mordlings.
He had not been sleeping well since his dreams had
changed. No longer were they full of images of murder
and war; now, strange slithery forms predominated,
coiling and uncoiling in the deep shadows of some dry
and rocky place.
  Even stranger than that was the fact that all his
brother-reptiloids seemed to be affected in exactly the
same way. None of them could remain still for more
than a few moments; the black corridors of Kordoe
resounded to their agitated hissing as they prowled the
Forbidden City, caught in the grip of an all-consuming
restlessness.
  Blorg's thoughts drifted away from the arena of con-
quest, from the dark pleasures of violence and slaugh-
ter, for the first in years as he suddenly realized what
was troubling the Ysss. One long cycle had just ended,
another was just beginning; and the reptiloids felt this
instinctually: the voice that sang in their cold blood was
urging them to return to the deserts of Sserp and mate
with their own kind. Of course! Blorg thought. It is time
for the Ysss to multiply.
  The Devourer had been greatly amused by the frantic
activities of the murderous reptiloids, and it bade them
farewell with a certain reluctance. Still, boredom had
been kept at bay for several months now, and VIand
was more enthusiastic than it had been for aeons.
  As Blorg strode toward the starship that was to take
him to his homeworld, Ylang's thought went with him,
slithering into the recesses of his mind. Go. my son, and
breed me strong little snake lets. And when you return, I
will show you a wonder, a sight that has not been seen
for long ages. . . a Mordling.


                     Chapter 4
               To Liberate A Galaxy


  "Ween Nerdeen, where are you?" the skipper of the
Hazard cooed, as he and Purpur entered the ship's
workshop. The place was deserted, except for the pres-
ence of the roller-robot who was Ween's techno-
companion. "All right, Ovie," Rian said, stepping
directly into the robot's path, causing it to screech to a
halt. "Where's the kid?"
  The star-pirate's suspicions were aroused when the
robot's only reply was a hissing stream of white noise.
Since O- V -1 was incapable of lying, Ween must have
given it the order to de-activate its talki-track, so as to
keep his whereabouts secret. Purpur strode around the
room, sniffing for Ween's scent. He stopped in front of
a bank of wall-lockers, turned to his skipper, and
pointed over his shoulder. Rian grinned broadly and
tip-toed over to the locker Purpur had indicated. With a
series of flourishes, he reached out, turned the handle
and threw open the door. And there before him, hud-
dled in the locker, the flush of embarrassment that
colored his face giving him the appearance of a blond-
haired beet, was Ween Leever.
  "I don't mean to disturb your meditations," Rian
said ironically. "But I've got to talk to you, Ween. . .
Nerdeen."
  
  Ween's face was so hot that he felt his blush must be
illuminating the insides of the locker. Now that Rian
had discovered his middle name, the pirate was using it
constantly, to Ween's great discomfort. On his
homeworld, it was the custom to give the young of both
sexes middle names that possessed a certain identity of
sound with their first names. Uncle Vax had blabbed it
to Rian on their first meeting and, drunk as he was, the
buccaneer had -remembered it. Now that the secret was
known to him, it would be a long time before he let
Ween off the hook. While perfectly normal on Greeb,
the rhyming names caused most humanoids (the silliest
of all galactic races, Ween thought as he stepped out of
the shelter of the locker) to break up with laughter.
  "What it is, Rian," he said tiredly, wincing at his
tormentor's grin.
  "I've come to talk to you about your uncle, Weenie-
boy. Not only is the old gasbag guzzling all my booze
and burying us under a heap of brango manure with his
interminable tall-tales, but he's also skinning the crew
at cards every night."
  Up to his old tricks again, thought Ween. His eccen-
tric uncle had always been a trial to the Leevers, what
with his cockeyed schemes and genial larcenies.
There's one in every family, the boy-genius thought, but
uncle Vax must be the equivalent of at least five or ten.
  "Sure,"Weenreplied.I'llspeaktohim.. .but only
if you quit calling me Ween Nerdeen."
  "You strike a hard bargain, laddie," the pirate said,
grinning from ear to ear. "But it's a deal."
  Then, just as Purpur grabbed him in the pulverizing
grip he recognized as the felinoid's expression of affec-
tion, Ween heard a whiny drawl in the outside corridor.
  "Ween Nerdeen," the voice said, "where are you,
my boy?"

  As his uncle's belly appeared in the doorway like a
planet entering a navi-screen, Rian said, "You're on,
kid !" and raced to the door, Purpur following close
behind him.
  "Captain, Rian, estimable felinoid," Vax said by
way of greeting, doffing his pointed hat with an oily
smile. "I was just looking for some company. Perhaps
you gentlemen would care to join me in a little game of
chance?"
  "Sorry, unk," the star-pirate replied as he and Pur-
pur navigated the air-space between Vax's belly and the
side of the hatch that led to the corridor. "Got to cali-
brate the ekto-wedges and defuse the glossom." With
that bit of double-talk, the pirate and his first-mate
escaped.
  "Yes. Well, perhaps I might offer you a little drink,
then-in your quarters, Captain?" Vax called out has-
tily. But the object of his attention had already dashed
out of sight.
  He turned to Ween. "Busy little devils, aren't they?
Ah, nephew, perhaps you. . . ?"
  "Uncle Vax Waxnax," Ween interrupted, a stern
look on his face. "I want to talk to you."
  "Your robot, perhaps?" Vax continued. "We played
together only yesterday, you know." Hearing this,
O- V-I rolled hastily out of sight.
  Ween's uncle put his hat down on a low stool that
stood beside a workbench. He scanned the room in
search of something to drink. "What is it, my boy?" he
asked with a sigh, remembering his nephew's abstemi-
ous habits.
  "I wish you'd be less. . . exhuberant," Ween said.
"And quit gambling with the crew. You know what
happens when you begin. . . " Ween started to sit
down-right on his uncle's hat!

  "No, my boy! Don't. . . "
  Crunch! Ween shot to a standing position.
  "Drat!" exclaimed his uncle, waddling over to the
scene of the accident and reaching for his hat.
  "Since when do hats crunch?" Ween asked, whip-
ping the hat off the stool before his uncle could grab it.
He thrust his hand inside and felt around for a moment,
after which he yanked and pulled something out. "A
surface-scanner," Ween said, as he looked down at the
thin, metal disc in his palm. He held it out for Vax to
see. "So you've been rigging the game again, eh?"
  His uncle suddenly assumed an air of innocence that
gave him the look of a perverted cherub. "Why, how
did that get there?" he mumbled out of the side of his
mouth. "Must have come with the hat."
  Ween glared at him. "Yeah, I wonder, too," he re-
plied sarcastically. "I want you to return all the money
you won, uncle Vax."
  "But Ween Nerdeen," the old rogue pleaded, "you
wouldn't deprive your beloved uncle of his little nest-
egg, would you, m 'boy? Remember, I had to leave
Greebinabitofahurry.I... "
  "Immediately'" Snapped his nephew. "Or would
you prefer me to tell the crew why you're so lucky at
cards?"
  Vax frowned and fingered his bulb of a nose. "Oh,
very well, my boy," he sighed. "It'sapity though. I had
great hopes for you."
  "What's a pity?" Ween asked.
  "That you seem to be getting more like your aunt
every day," his uncle wheezed plaintively.

  Starships lifted-off from spaceports th,roughout the
vast expanse of the Dark Empire, as the Y sss went back
to Sserp. Ylang- Ylang, confident that the Primulans
would not dare to leave the relative security of Taylos
or their own galaxy at present, permitted the greater
part of his ruling elite to return to their homeworld. It
was in the Devourer's interest, after all, for the new
brood of reptiloids would provide the Y sss overlords of
the future.
  
  So the Dark Emperor, its pleasure in the great galac-
tic game restored, personally directed the restoration
and the renoyation of the Mordling facilities. Crews
labored day and night .under the all-seeying eye of
Ylang's watchful mentality, working as if their lives
depended on the swift completion of the immense proj-
ect . . . which indeed they did.
  In the laboratories of the Forbidden City, nourished
with infusions of protein, enzymes and amino acids,
specimens grew into the tissue-cultures that would soon
metamorphose into the cloned shapes of the long-dead
Mordlings. Ylang had imposed the mental and genetic
imprints of its ancestors on these cultures in its efforts
to replicate members of the mightiest and most evil
species ever known in the stars, so that the giant ma-
chines, idle for aeons, might run once again.
  Then we shall see, the Great Devourer thought, what
the powers of mind of the Fellowship of Light will be
able to do against the dark science of my race. Soon!
shall work wonders. . .
  
  Garthane thought he knew Vax Waxnax for what he
was: a charming old liar and swindler. But he. also
appreciated the man's talents. It wasn't every day one
could fool the Ysss themselves, and con them into
thinking one had converted a group of conquered and
oppressed men into the first willing soldiers of the Dark
Empire ever to come out of the Taylos galaxy: and
what's more, con them again, eventually obtaining their
permission to man the !irst volunteer ship from the
captive star-sea. Acute but of Ween's homeworld,
Garthane had concluded; and Ween's uncle seemed to
possess them to an extraordinary degree. To his sur-
prise (and slight dismay), the High Master had not been
able to fully enter into the old scoundrel's mind, a very
unusual occurrence.
  But at the same time, he had to laugh. The pot-bellied
scalawag had set out in an imperial cruiser, the occasion
being the volunteer crew's first shake-down cruise, and
what had he done? Nothing less than to overpower the
Ysss advisors, send the starship into hyperspace, and
head straight for Aurea Solis - the heart of enemy resis-
tance! In his own left-handed way, Ween's eccentric
uncle was quite a man.
  And he brought with him technical resources of great
value, for he and his fellow-Greebans all shared the
mec'hanical ingenuity so common among the natives of
their homeworld. The fat old rascal had even supplied
the missing step in Garthane' s plans for the liberation of
Taylos. When he learned of the scrambler, his new-
phew's brilliant invention that had permitted the
Hazard to penetrate the air space of Flaigon itself, Vax
Wasnax' huge jowls danced to the music of his excite-
ment.
  "Probes, Master Garthane-probes !" he exclaimed.
  "Yas. That's what's needed to provoke unrest among
the subject peoples of Taylos. That's the way to plant
the seeds of rebellion."
  "Please explain yourself further, Vax Waxnax
Leever."
  "Certainly, your reverence," Vax said, cradling his
belly in his arms as tenderly as a new mother holds her
first-born. "We dispatch probes to Taylos and other
galaxies as well, sir. Electronically-controlled
drones-small, unmanned vessels fitted-out with
scramblers and transmitters that are programmed, of
course, to broadcast the word otliberation and the news
of your victory over the armada. They could enter the
atmospheres of the occupied world undetected and,
overriding the empire's frequencies, spread your prop-
aganda."
  "That is an absolutely brilliant idea, sir," Garthane
said, much impressed by Vax's words.
  "A trifle, sir," the Greeban replied. "A mere
bagatelle. As Ween has probably told your eminence,
genius runs in the family."
  Ween was impressed as well: Uncle Vax had re-
deemed himself! His larcenous relation's words had
just elevated the man to the status of galactic nero.
"Come on, unk," Ween said, "I'm gonna buy you a
drink."
  "Or two?" Vax Wasnax added hopefully.
  "Or two," his nephew replied, as they bowed to
Garthane before leaving the room.
  "That's my dear nephew," Vax said, "My beloved
Ween Nerdeen."
  "Will you please stop calling me that!" Garthane
heard Ween growl before they were out of earshot. He
went to his desk, sat down, and drafted a memo to all
League tech-dromes, ordering the construction of the
probes immediately, as atop-priority. He decided to
put Ween and his uncle in charge of the project.
  Garthane smiled serenely. He had just witnessed a
very satisfying demonstration of the multiplicity of our
natures. Never underestimate anyone, he thought, not
even an old sinner like Vax Waxnax.

  Sserp was a desolate place, a world that most crea-
tures would consider cruel and inhospitable, but Blorg
was at home on it. He stripped off his body-armor and
felt the scorching heat of the desert caress his scaly
body. Staring into the distance, he made out the
mating-caves; the stones at their mouths glared back
with the reflected light of the planet's intense sun, their
shapes wavering in the distorting heat.
  The mating-cycles of the Ysss were spaced far apart,
and it had been a long time since Blorg had stood on the
surface of his homeworld. He looked behind him, and
saw scores of his brother-reptiloids shedding the black
skins of their body-armor. A cold, hissing music rose in
his mind: the mating-song of the female Ysss.
  Haaass! Haaass! Blorg inhaled the scorching air of
Sserp and felt revitalized; his scaly frame quivered to
the promptings of his ophidian nature. Seek me, find
me, coil with me, the serpent-voices sang in his head,
and we will lurk and slither in the shadoJ'!ls, dancing
among the stones as we offer prayers to the god of
death. Light the caves with the beams of your eyes, and
find the one who waits for you. Come unto me, give me
the serpent's kiss, take me. . . and we shall breed the
children of darkness. Leave the furnace of the desert,
and take your pleasure among the damp and shadowy
stones of the caves of Ofiidiia. .
  Excited by the promise of the serpentine love-song,
Blorg drew himself up to his full height: his four arms
stretched over his head, reaching for the skies, hands
clawing blindly at the blazing sun. A wild cry rang out in
his midnight soul; his glands transmitted a frantic chem-
ical message that made his blood boil. A fierce joy
shook the reptiloid, causing him to shiver despite the
intense heat that enveloped his body. He lowered the
level of his consciousness and surrendered to the im-
peratives of instinct.
  
  Blorg raised an arm and gave the signal to advance.
He strode off over the fiery sands, waving his four arms
and breaking into a run a moment later. A thousand
Ysss ran behind him, their scales gleaming in the sun
like the shields of an invading army. They had come
home!

  Rian paced the terrace of Nil a's quarters like a big red
cat, the hairs on the nape of his neck tingling with the
electricity of his desire.
  "What's the matter, Rian?" Nila asked. "You're
certainly in a restless mood tonight."
He stopped pacing when he reaced the spot where
Nila leaned, looking out at the stars. He turned to her,
picked up his drink from the railing, and drained it in
one gulp. "It's being out here in the moonlight with you,
babe," he replied, studying the way the silver light
edged her profile. "Brings out the animal in me." He
thought she smiled, but wasn't sure. It was torture for
him to be alone with her, but one he gladly suffered.
And it got harder to take every day. .. .
  One day she favors the kid, he thought, and the next
she looks at me as if I were swellest present she'd ever
received in her entire life. Damn it! I wish she'd make up
her mind. She's making me old before my time, causing
me to moon over her like some moonstruck little ado-
lescent twerp.lcan't take this much longer. It's horri-
ble . . . even worse than having to listen to that old
gasbag, Vax Waxnax.
  "Nila honey," he said plaintively, "my nerves are
shot from all this blasted waiting. What am I gonna
do?"
  She straightened up and turned to face him, looking,
he thought, like the moon-goddess of some primitive
civilization. "Have another drink," she said mischiev-
ously.

  She looked so different to him at times like this. Gold
and copper were her daytime colors, but the moonlight
lent her a!1other aspect, frosting her bright hair with its
cool, silver glow. He could never make up his mind as to
which way he liked her best. And he was sure he'd like
her equally well in the darkness, too.
  "I gather you haven't come to a decision yet," he
said, sighing as he poured another glass of nenegol.
  "I've been awfully busy lately," Nila answered, her
apologetic smile turning his brain to jelly. " And I guess
I've been. . . ducking it."
  Rian took her in his arms. "Work on it, will ya?"
  ".I will," she said, closing her eyes as he drew her
body against his. "Just be patient a little longer."
  As he kissed her, Rian smelled the fragrance of her
hair and thought of green, flowering gardens at the
dawn of creation.

  "Damn it, sir," Vax Waxnax snarled in his scratchy,
nasal drawl, "I told you never to do that to me again!"
Ween's uncle was peeved. O-V-l had just de-
activated itself for the second time that day. This tactic
had proved to be the robot's most effective defense-
shelter against the overwhelming tidal wave of Uncle
Vax's long-winded anecdotes.
  "Think you're smart, don't you, you clanging bag of
bolts," Vax muttered, as he waddlecioff. "Better hope
I'm not around the next time you're due to be lubed,
because I'll bury you in rancid cooking fat."
  As he rumbled through the hatch, drawn by the
momentum of his huge belly, the door to one of the
workshop's lockers opened, and out stepped Dann
Oryzon. He turned to the door on his left, and rapped on
it with his knuckles. That door creaked open slowly,
and Ween Leever's frizzy head appeared from behind
it. "He's gone, is he?" the boy-genius asked.
  Dan nodded. "Want me to re-activate Ovie?" he
asked, pointing to Ween's immobile techno-
companion. Ween winced. "No. Not yet, Dann. The
champion windbag of two galaxies just left, and I'm in
no shape to take on the contender. Vh, what were you
saying before uncle Vax came in?"
  "They're launching your probes this afternoon," the
young Aqauean replied, "all five thousand of 'em. And
they're gonna have a little celebration afterwards, at
League H.Q."
  "Will my uncle be there?"
  "Sure he will. The party's in his honor as well as
yours."
  "Then I'm not going."
Dann smiled mischievously. "Come on, Ween. . .
Nerdeen."
  "Don't call me that!"
  "I won't. . . if you come to the party."
  "All right-you blackmailer," Ween snapped. "But
you've got to do something for me."
  "Sure," his friend replied. "What?"
  "Warn me whenever uncle Vax gets close .. and
cover my escape."

  Garthane was pleased. The first wave of probes had
been launched, and all lifted-off without a single mis-
fire. And now they were on their way to the occupied
worlds of several galaxies, where they would penetrate
their respective atmospheres and broadcast the
League's message of resistance and freedom.
  He felt the working of the dark heart of the Infinite, its
cosmic vibrations stirring something deep within him as
the nature of created things flowed in search of equilib-
rium. The perfect launching had been a sign, he felt, an
omen of things to come. And soon the liberation of
Taylos would begin. . .
  Snakes in broods, fires and floods, carnage and de-
struction, Ylang sang, its thoughts filling the lair with
the demented music of its tenebrous merriment. Dark
things lurk, and evil works its dark-designed obstruc-
tion.
  The emperor had not been so excited for millennia.
The dark vaults that hQused the workshops and
laboratories of its demonic ancestors were now re-
stored and put to their original use, the service of evil.
And Ylang's darling, Blorg, was returning home after
the mating-rites and the serpentine dance of awakened
sexuality on the scorching surface of his homeworld.
And soon the creatures designed to operate the giant
and intricate machines would awaken.
  Enter the vault, sweet Blorg, Ylang urged as soon as
its pet had returned, the fires of its expectation casting a
flickering orange glow over the throne room's stone
floors. And look upon the beauty of the Mordlings.
  As my lort.( commands, so does his servant obey.
Blorg nodded to the anxious group of his brother- Y sss
who stood gathered before the cyclopean doors at the
entrance to the Mordling laboratories. The reptiloids
leaned on the doors and pushed with all their strength,
causing them to groan like voices in a musician's night-
mare, turning inward as they did.
  Enter and look upon the noblest works of all creation,
my hissing little beauties. Go within, and see Ylang's
people reincarnate by virtue of its black arts!
  Their body-armor clanking as they massed together,
the Ysss ftIed into the laboratories. Haaa-aa-aaass!
Haa-aass! Haaass! The vaults rang with the sounds of
their astonished gasps, as the reptiloids beheld the huge
forms that floated in the nutrient-solutions of the large
and growth-lighted transparent tanks.

  So this is a Moordling, Blorg thought, so alarmed by
the sight that he momentarily ignored the hovering,
oppressive presence of the Devourer's consciousness.
How terrible they are. . . even in repose.
  And the Mordlings were monstrous, even to a mon-
ster such as Blorg. Gigantic beings thirty to forty feet
tall, their scaly hides shone with all the colors of a
rainbow of corruption. The green of decay, the red of
outrage, the brown of rot, the yellow of ancient desola-
tion and the oily black of absolute evil glittered in alter-
nations as the light played over the gross forms that
rocked gently in the tanks.
  Their limbs looked as thick and powerful as the trunk
of the tree of original evil; their hands were great claws,
designed to tear and throttle; their faces were as hard
and cold as the surface of their homeworld, Flaigon;
and their gaping, stiletto-toothed mouths yawned like
the entrance to hell.
  Ylang felt the fear and revulsion of the Y sss and
savored it, drinking deeply of the energies liberated by
their first sight of the Mordlings. But the Devourer was
not offended; after all, the Ysss are connoisseurs of
death, not beauty. And in the solar furnace of its heart,
Ylang knew that the Mordlings were the most deadly
creatures ever spawned in the long history of the uni-
verse.
  Watch now, Ylang-Ylang commanded, bringing
Blorg out of the shock-induced trance he had entered
along with his fellows. I shall show you a wonder. The
reptiloid lord felt the star-tyrant's thoughts withdraw
and flow elsewhere. He gazed expectantly at the
nearest tank.
  Suddenly the mighty form within stirred, thrashing its
huge limbs and sending a wave of fluid over the side of
the tank. And then, clutching at the sides of the con-
tainer, the thing hauled itself erect and glared balefully
down at the Ysss, twin beams of light flllring from eyes
that were as black as the dead heart of Flaigon. And
when it opened its horrendous mouth and roared in a
voice colored with overtones of rage and madness, the
Y sss, led by Blorg the Devastator, fled from the vault as
fast as their powerful legs would carry them.
  Ah-hah-hah-hah-hahahahaha-a-a-aaa! Ylang' s
laughter shook the black planet to its core. The fleeing
Y sss were thrown to the ground as boulders crashed
and ricocheted along the corridors of Kordoe; terror
filled the Forbidden City.
  Rest yourselves, my sweetlings, Ylang boomed, after
its mirth had subsided. Retire to your thermo-couches
and dream dark dreams. . . And tomorrow, you shall
witness the marvelous science of the Mordlings at
work.
  In this fashion, Ylang- Ylang set to work. And time
passed, hours stretching into days, days stretching into
weeks, and weeks stretching into months.
Others were busy as well: the Fellowship of Light
was training its members-to-be, and the League of Free
Worlds was preparing for war, readying its forces as it
approached the next undertaking in the great galactic
game. . . the liberation of the Taylos galaxy.


                  Chapter 5
              Lord Blorg's Raid


  The peoples of Taylos had no love for their black-
uniformed conquerors, and the message of the
League's probes was not lost on them. Once the
starfleets of the liberators entered their galaxy, the Tay-
lians rose up in great numbers on many worlds and did
everything they could to make things uncomfortable for
the Dark Empire's forces on the ground.
  Enemy starfleets were on hand to resist those of the
League, but this time they were not favored with any-
thing that even remotely resembled the overwhelming
numerical superiority of the late armada; the star-pilots
trained by Rian and his crew were now combat-
veterans, and they won victory after victory as they
penetrated deeper into Taylos.
  Of all the encounters in that galactic struggle, the
greatest was the Battle of Yahwoo, so named because
Purpur's homeworld planet was the nearest to the
combat-zone. Sliith, High Admiral of the occupying
spacenavy, stung by the successive defeats of his indi-
vidual startleets, had given the order to consolidate all
available forces in Y ahwoo' s sector of the galaxy,
thereby intending to crush the enemy once and for all.
 
  Sliith entered the battle confident in the strength of
his forces, which outnumbered the Primulan vessels by
a ratio offive-to-one. But he had not reckoned with the
Fellowship of Light. Using their powers of mind once
again, one hundred members of the order (half its pres-
ent strength), boarded various ships of the League's
starfleets and went among the enemy. And once again,
they entered the trance-state of spiritual communion
known as a mind-lock and drew on the energies of the
dark heart of the universe, causing the black starships
that opposed them to be shaken and torn apart by the
terrible energies thus unleashed. As the mighty dark
armada had been destroyed, so was Admiral Sliith's
lesser force; and few survivors returned to Flaigon to
tell the tale.
  The Battle of Yahwoo broke the back of enemy op-
position in Taylos; shortly thereafter, Sliith' s successor
gave the order to evacuate all Dark Empire forces from
the galaxy. But even the evacuation proved to be a
disaster, for the Taylians, without waiting for the
liberators to land on the surface of their planets, rose up
and stormed the bases {)f the occupiers, seizing great
numbers of starships and weapons, and slaughtering as
many of the enemy as they possibly could. Then, as the
League forces arrived, the huge black vessels were
repainted in the colors of the liberated worlds and
enrolled as the first units of the reborn Taylian
spacenavies.
  Less than fifteen months (by the intergalactic stan-
dard) had gone by since the defeat of the star-armada;
the Primulans and their allies were intoxicated by the
heady wine of victory. Unwilling to lose the momentum
of their success, they began to plot the liberation of
Havanal, the galaxy nearest to Taylos. Again probes
were sent out, to Havanal and galaxies beyond, and the
tech-dromes and shipyards of the allies hummed with
activity and rang to the sweet music of resistance and
liberation. At a great banquet on Yahwoo, Garthane
addressed the allied commanders and voiced the first
sobering thought of the day: before long, Ylang- Ylang
would surely make its next move.

  Yowls and meows, scrowls and r-r-rows: Rian
thought it was the most unique victory celebration he
had ever seen. As the League's forces marched on the
springy surface of the central boulevard of Meee, capi-
tal city of Yahwoo, the cat-flock lined the streets and
cheered like a veterinarian's dream of glory.
  I'd hate to be a dog today, the star-pirate thought,
waving and beaming down at the felinoid multitudes
from the height of Purpur's shoulders. Rian was getting
used to this business of being a galactic hero, and he had
to admit he liked it. Folks were most respectful in the
presence of a hero. Why, they'd swallow even the most
outrageous of yams and then come up gasping with
excitement, begging for more of the same. Banquets
were another benefit: when you weren't fighting, you
were usually stuffing your craw with the finest delica-
cies the host-world had to offer. And the hot, inviting
looks the women shot at him. . . it was almost enough
to make him regret his decision to be faithful to Nila.
  Only one thing made the skipper of the Hazard's day
less than perfect, and that was the presence of his
fellow-hero, that red-nosed gasbag, that Father of Lies,
that dirty old man- Vax Waxnax.
  "Yas. Yas." the old rum-pot wheezed, fluttering his
fingers at the crowd and staring around his overripe
fruit of a nose. "Scratch for joy, my little kittikins,"
Vax intoned through the side of his mouth, "for we
bring you the nibbles of liberation."

  Bouncing their riders as they hit a rough spot in the
fibroid pavement, the felinoids galloped to steady
themselves. Oh, you poor tabby! Rian thought, as he
glanced over to the catman who bore Vax and his dis-
tended belly. One more stretch of road like this one, and
that bag of guts 'II beat you to death! He leaned over and
spoke into Purpur's ear. "See that? If you get out of line
while we're here, I'm going to see to it personally that
you get to carry old balloon-belly back to the Hazard."
By way of reply, Purpur shuddered and yowled.
  What bothered the skipper of the Hazard was the fact
that Ween's conniving uncle was beside him in the
limelight. Comparisons may be odious, but Rian, al-
though he never admitted it to himself or anyone else,
had a deep-seated fear that he would wind up resem-
bling the old buffoon in his own later years. The feeling
wasn't quite rational; but in some way, the old Greeban
held up a mirr-or to the more exaggerated side of the
pirate's nature. Even heroes sometimes see themselves
as clowns.
  R-r-r-ro-ooow! They encountered another bumpy
section of the boulevard and the cat-man, bludgeoned
repeatedly by the merciless bulk of Vax's belly, yowled
his discomfort. "Easy, m'boy! Easy!" Vax exclaimed
between boozy belches, the jogging ofthefelinoid turn-
ing his stomach into a cocktail shaker. "Is this any way
to treat a hero?"
  Giddy-up, tabby! Rian thought, shaking with laughter
as he turned away from the sight of Ween's uncle's
discomfort and whispered into his first-mate's furry,
pointed ear. "I'll give you five-to-one they hospitalize
that pussycat by the time the parade's over." He
pointed to the cat-man who carried Vax. The poor
felinoid's head was bent down almost to his ~hest, the
sinews of his neck stretched to their limits by the ag-
gressiveness of the enormous belly they buttressed.
  "I'll bet," Red Rian whispered again, "that your pal
over there goes on sick-call when it's time to see us
off."

  Lord Blorg quietly made his way along the aisle of the
workshop, casting nervous glances left and rigbt at the
monstrous things that operated the towering machines.
the Mordling clones were so horrible that even the
Yass felt uncomfortable in their presence; they were so
fearsome that Blorg was continually thankful the Dark
Emperor had created them devoid of the evil ingenuity
and motivation characteristic of their prototypes. Ylang
had cloned them solely to operate the great machines,
and that was all they did, eating and sleeping only when
sheer hunger and fatigue overtook them. Still, Blorg
shuddered when he considered the awful games those
beauties might have been capable of dreaming up, had
they the mentality and the imagination.
  With a sigh of relief, the lord of the Y sss left the
workshop and turned down the long corridor that led to
the lair. A chill wind blew through the chambers of his
mind as the tyrant's thoughts made themselves felt.
  My son is disturbed, Ylang noted cheerfully. .What
bothers him?
  My lord, the Taylos galaxy has just been liberated by
those upstarts from Primula. And my agents there in-
form me that the League of Free Worlds plans to move
against us in Havanal.
  What of it? the Great Devourer asked, upsetting
Blorg with its gleeful insouciance.
  Great Ylang, if their progress is not checked swiftly,
word of their victories will reach the subject galaxies.
Then rebellion will spread through the stars like
atomic-fire.

  My son must not worry, the emperor purred. We shall
stop them before they ever enter Havanal.
  And how will my master accomplish this?
  Enter the lair, sweet Blorg, and you shall see.
  Blorg shielded his eyes as he entered, and looked
away from the debased radiance of his master. In the
center of the vast stone chamber, he saw three of his
brother-reptiloids seated at the controls of a strange
console. The thing was scaled-down to their size, but
obviously the product of Mordling skills. On a line with
this device, but thirty yards to its left, there stood a
massive laser-cannon, one that belonged aboard an im-
perial cruiser. It was manned by two more reptiloids,
and was trained on a cowering pack of insectoid slaves
who huddled in the exact center of the lair. Another
group of insectoids huddled in a circle near the wall
behind the laser-cannon, guarded by a platoon of
humanoid soldiers. And by the adjoining wall, a group
of Ysss stood watching the entire scene.
  Ylang wilLnow be pleased to demonstrate thefruit of
Mordling technical expertise, the Devourer an-
nounced. The cannoneers have their weapon trained on
the group of worthless insectoids you see before you.
Behold what happens when the laser fires.
  Vvvv-w-whaaa! Urged on by Ylang's will, the can-
noneers fired. A blinding red flash illuminated the lair as
the laserbeam hit its target. When the smoke had
cleared, nothing remained of the insectoids but a few
charred flakes that drifted lazily to the floor. They had
all been vaporized.
  Bzzzzz-z-z-zzz! Dit-a-dit! Dit-a-dit! The insectoids in
the remaining group buzzed and chittered with fear
when they saw what had happened to their counter-
parts. The guards activated their stingers, lashing the
prisoners into silence with the small hand-rays.
  Bring forth the second group! ordered Ylang. On this
command, the guards herded the slaves over to the
target area, backing away as soon as the insectoids were
assembled.

  Ylang thundered and lightninged in anticipation of
what was to come. Now, my lords, we shall see this little
demonstration repeated. . . but with one difference.
Activate the console.
  The Ysss in the center nodded to his fellows, and they
set to work, coordinating their efforts telepathically.
Lights flickered on and off in complex sequences as the
console hummed softly into activation.'
  Now fix your sights on those wretches before you,
Ylang ordered.
  Blorg noticed that a small turret mounted on top of
the console began to swing around, training what ap-
peared to be a large, circular lens projecting out of its
center on the cowering insectoids. He wondered what
connection this device would have with the execution
of the slaves.
  Adjust range, and project when on target, was the
Dark Emperor's next instruction.
  The Ysss at the console nodded again. Ummm-
vwoo-o-o-ooot! With a drone and a whine, a ghostly
silver light came out of the lens. Its beam split about ten
feet in front of the insectoids and immediately encircled
them, joining again at the rear of the huddled group.
  Activate laser-cannon! Ylang ordered.
  Vvvv-w-w-whaaa! Again the powerful beam lanced
out, filling the lair with its red light and scorching
heat. But this time nothing happened. Blorg was as-
tounded: the insectoids were still there-unvaporized!
  The lair shook with Ylang's laughter, as the star-
tyrant sampled the consternation of the Y sss. The re-
ptiloid lords were all dumbfounded by what they had
just seen.
  Blorg was the first to comment upon the demonstra-
tion: Father Ylang, if such a device were installed
within your starships. they would be rendered impervi-
ous to the firepower of the League's vessels.
  Not only that, Ylang replied, but when enough of
these machines are put on an interlock, thefield thereby
generated would render the ships within it impervjous
even to the powers of mind of the Fellowship of Light.
  If my lord will grant me the privilege of having the
first unit installed in my new starship, the Scourge, I
would be honored to test it in actual combat.
  It will take some time to outfit several starfleets with
this new invention, Lord Blorg.
  All I require is one, great Ylang. That will prove
sufficient for my purpose.
  And how does my son propose to test this thing?
  By shooting down the Hazard, and sending Rian and
all his Taylian scum to hell!
  Would my lord risk an encounter with the League's
star fleets at this time?
  That will not be necessary, great Ylang. My Taylian
agents keep me well-informed of Rian' s comings and
goings. One day I shall swoop down on him when he
least expects it, and settle his account for good.
  Splendid, my sweet Blorg! Splendid! Yours shall be
the first field-generator to be installed, the Devourer
replied, flashing and booming in his glee like an electri-
cal storm. We are almost ready to make our next move
in the great galactic game. . .

  Nila inserted another vibro-chip into the music-
inducer and walked out on the balcony to watch the
mellow sunset of Yahwoo. It was her last night on the
garden-world of Purpur' s kind; she and her companions
were needed back in Primula. Rian would accompany
her to League H.Q., where the preparations for the
invasion of Havanal were being finalized; and Dann was
returning to Palos, where he would participate in the
Fellowship's fIrst mass-initiation ceremony in well over
two hundred years.
  Both Dann and the star-pirate took the opportunity to
press for a decision, but Nila still couldn't bring herself
to choose between them. But she did make a solemn
promise: after the'invasion of Havanal had been suc-
cessfully launched, she would make up her mind, once
and for all.
  After speaking to Garthane about her feelings toward
the two men, Nila had gone to one of the sanctuaries of
the catfolk and spent the afternoon in meditation. She
came out refreshed, trusting to the guidance and wis-
dom of her inner self. And in a sudden moment of
clarity, an instant of profound insight, the lady from the
golden planet realized she was on her way to making a
decision. Reliving the events of her relationship to
Dann and Rian in a flash, Nila was able to look deep into
her heart and understand her feelings. She realized that
she was beginning to favor one of her suitors over the
other.
  Nila smiled back at the sunset. So the conflict that
had torn her apart for well over a year was coming to an
end. Feelings of relief, surprise and certainty were
mingled in this revelation. The long-awaited decision
would soon be made. And the man she chose as her
lover would probably be . . .
  A gently meow interrupted her thoughts. Nila turned
around and saw a figure silhouetted in the doorway. It
was Maowl, Purpur's sweetheart, come to fetch her to
the farewell banquet. They embraced; Nila hugged the
towering cat-woman affectionately, while Maowl pur-
red and licked her cheek.
  "Oh, Maowl," Nilasaid, stepping back to admire her
visitor, "that's such a pretty toga you're wearing." The
felinoid purred louder as a result of this compliment.
"Rian tells me that Purpur missed you very much while
he was away. Did you miss him, too?"
  Maowl nodded, her green eyes sparkling in the
moonlight.
  "And now, he's got to leave again," Nila told her.
  The love of Purpur's life emitted a sad little yowl.
  "But don't worry," Nila said, linking arms with the
graceful felinoid as they went back into the apartment.
"He'll be back before you know it. Right after the
liberation of Havanal begins. And you're going to be
with him tonight, aren't you?"
  The felinoid nodded.
  "So make it a night to remember," Nila said with a
wink.
  By the time they left Nila's quarters, Maowl was
purring again.

  "I will return to Palos as soon as my business here is
finished," Garthane told his son. "Make sure that all is
in readiness for the great ceremony." Dann nodded and
went up the Hazard's tlexiladder.
  The High Master waved goodbye to his son, and
turned to survey the crowd that cheered as the galactic
heroes boarded the bright-plated ship. Behind Ween
Leever, who was lecturing his uncle on how to behave
in his absence, Garthane watched Ven Fenben, the
thin, intense man who was Vax's second-in-command,
detach himself from the Greeban contingent and walk
around to the far side of the Hazard, studying the craft.
  A most interesting people, thought Garthane. The
highly-evolved Greebans displayed the most extraordi-
nary technical skills and abilities, and were the pos-
sessors of a restless intelligence that drove them to seek
to understand anything they weren't already familiar
with. Their latent powers of mind seemed to be of a
much higher potential than those of any other race
Garthane had encountered in either Primula or Taylos.
  Noticing the presence of this phenomenon in both
Ween and his uncle, the High Master corroborated his
findings when he attempted to enter the minds of Ven
and several of the other Greebans. Garthane found
himself unable to penetrate to any great depth; amazing
as it seemed, Ween's people had the ability to screen
their thoughts. The Greebans would prove a great asset
to the Fellowship, he thought. I must consult the mem-
bers of our order, and ask them whether or not we
should recruit initiates from Taylos.
  Garthane's thoughts turned back to the Hazard, as a
speaker-voice ordered the crowd to clear the
launching-pad. His son was off on another voyage. But
this one, in contrast to the others Dann had taken since
he left his homeworld, would surely be quiet and une-
ventful . . .

  "Tracer signal from the Hazard received, my lord," a
voice blared over the intercom of the dark starship.
Seated in the pilot's chair of the Scourge, Blorg nodded
slowly and began to punch the keys of the control-
console before him. As the vessel's short-range scan-
ners activated, the blip that traced the Hazard's prog-
ress appeared on the navi-screens.
  Take her out on a sixty-eight degree heading, ac-
celerating to cruising speed, Blorg thought, transmit-
ting his instructions to the Y sss who sat beside him.
  Sixty-eight and accelerating, came the telepathic re-
ply.
  Blorg switched on the ship's intercom, and transmit-
ted his thoughts to its crew. Stations, all hands. Pre-
pare to intercept and engage enemy vessel. Activate
lasers.
  Haaass! Haaass! His scales tingled as he anticipated
the encounter with the blip on the screens that repre-
sented the starship carrying his greatest enemies. This
would be as easy as strangling a baby. The preliminary
tests had been a total success; the Scourge was now
impervious to both laser and proton-torpedo fire. And
powers of mind were not a consideration, since that old
fool in the purple cowl, Garthane, was not on board the
bright ship. But everyone esle was: Nila, Dann Oryzon,
the cat-thing, the full crew, and Red Rian. . . especially
Red Rian. Blorg had lain in wait outside Yahwoo's
atmosphere for two full days, his lone starship unde-
tected where a squadron would have been blasted to its
component atoms, waiting with reptilian patience to
take his revenge.

  "We have just left Yahwoo's atmosphere," a
computer-voIce droned, "and are proceeding on a
one-niner-one heading."
  "Prepare to accelerate to hyperspace entry speed,"
Red Rian ordered. "Two minutes to count-down."
  The intercom crackled. "Skipper," the com-spec
said, as a blip appeared on the navi-screen, "I'm receiv-
ing a signal on the general com-frequency band."
  "Pipe it over, sp'arks," Rian replied, studying the
blip's heading. "I don't know whose ship it is," he said
to Purpur, "!Jut it's gonna intersect our heaQing."
  A whoosh of white noise, followed by a series of
bloops, came from the Hazard's speakers as the signal
was rectified. After that came the transmission: Cap-
tain of the Hazard, do you read me? Acknowledge.
  Rian switched on the transmitter. "Read you loud
and clear. Identify yourself, and state your purpose."
The blip on the screen grew larger.

  Greetings to Red Rian and his Taylian garbage, to
Dann Oryzon and the lady Nila,from the commander of
the imperial man-o'-war, Scourge. My mission is to
destroy the Hazard and all on board her.
  Amused, Rian smiled. After he gave the order to turn
and prepare to engage the enemy, the star-pirate spoke
into the transmitter's mike again. "Captain of the
Scourge, it isn't empire practice to engage the enemy
one-on-one. You are to be simultaneously com-
plimented on your daring and reproached for your ap-
parent lack of good sense. Do me the courtesy of sup-
plying your name, sir. . . so I'll know just who it is I'm
sending to hell."
  It's an old friend of yours , came the reply, you stink-
ing humanoid ape! One who owes you a great debt. . .
  "Your name, sir!" Rian interrupted, as the blip drew
closer to the center of the screen. "If this long-winded
recitation continues, you'll be dead before you get to
pronounce It.
  My name is Blorg the Devastator. 
  "Captain, you're as big a liar as you are a fool. You're
talking to the man who sent that walking heap of snake
droppings back to the pits of his ancestors," Rian
studied the screen for a second, and then issued the
order for all hands to stand-by.
  Wrong, you sweat-reeking primate! You were lucky
enough to destroy my flagship, but in your haste to
leave you overlooked an ejector-capsule.
  Rian and Purpur exchanged stunned looks. The
star-pirate thought for a moment before speaking again.
  "Captain, if you really are Blorg-something I doubt
very much-you shDuld be able to recall the last words
I said before that encounter was so abruptly termi-
nated." Rian winked at his firstmate. The blip was
almost at the center of the screen.
 
  I do, indeed, was the reply. Those words-which I
now return to you, scum-were: Death make you wel-
come!
  Rian grunted as he was hit with the shock of recogni-
tion. Purpur snarled. The pirate hit the intercom key.
"You heard that,lads," he said to the crew. "Itis Blorg
. . . so let's finish the job we started back in Primula.
Fire at will-and make 'em count!"
  Nila couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Even if
Blorg did escape, she thought, why would he risk an-
other duel with Rian? Her knuckles turned white as she
gripped the arms of her seat.
  Dann was as astonished as everyone else, but he
wasted no time as he lined up the black man-o '-war in
his gunsights. There'll be time to speculate about it
later, he thought. After we put Blorg on ice for good.
  Haaass! Blorg watched as the force-field spread its
silver nimbus over the Scourge's outer-plating. The
heroes ofTaylos are infor a little surprise, he gloated to
the Y sss who sat beside him. One that will put a sudden
end to their brief careers as liberators.
  The hand-picked Death Legion crew were at the
ready, waiting for the order to fire on the Hazard. Hold
your fire until I give the order, Blorg's thought-voice
rang out. And then hit them with everything you've got.
The gunners and torpedo-crews all stared at their
screens in fixed concentration.
  Rian noticed the Scourge's silver halo as it appeared
on the vidscreen, but had no time to reflect on it. "Open
fire!" he ordered, taking the Hazard into a sharp dive.
  The surrounding void lit up with the angry flashes of
concentrated firepower as the two ships engaged.
Streaking past the Scourge, the Hazard banked into a
tight turn and then dove up to pursue a course that put it
on a straight line with the stern of the slower and heavier
vessel.

  "I'm going in under her keel, boys," Rian said
through clenched teeth. "We're gonna hang on her tail.
So let 'er have it!"
  Blorg watched the Hazard on the rear vidscreen and
decelerated rapidly as the scanners bleeped, heralding
its approach. Red flashes in the void outside indicated a
heavy concentration of enemy fire, but the force-field
was so effective that the ship was not even rocked by its
impact. Open fire! he ordered, as the Hazard passed
beneath the Scourge.
  BOOM! WHAAANG! R-R-R-ROOOM! Beams
creaked and decks heaved as the Hazard's screens
began to buckle under the withering fire of the enemy.
"Damn it!" Rian bawled, grabbing onto the console to
steady himself, unable to accelerate and get his ship out
of range. "Blorg's done something to soup-up his
shielding."
  Skipper, we're hit!" a voice barked over the inter-
com.
  Blorg watched with satisfaction as the Hazard pulled
ahead of the Scourge. Shall I turn now, my lord? his
co-pilot asked. Not yet, he replied. Let them think
they've got us, so the Hazard will repeat the same
maneuver. This time we should be able to finish them
off.
  "Gyros in tail-starboard are shaky, skipper. If we
sustain another hit there, it could knock 'em out."
  "I'll favor the port side," Rian answered over the
intercom. "I'mgonnaget as close to 'er as possible, this
time. Hit 'er with a volley oftorPedos. Hang on to your
hats!"
  Fire lasers! Fire torpedos! Blorg ordered, as the
Hazard closed in again. He depressed two keys on the
console, correcting his heading as the concussion that
resulted from the close exchange of fire between the
two starships began to alter his course. Studying the
read-outs on the screens before him, Blorg realized that
the Hazard's shields would not be able to withstand the
sustained assault.
  Rian hung on the tail of Blorg's man-o'-war like grim
death itself, determined to penetrate its defense-
screens with the force of the Hazard's awesome
firepower. He broke out into a cold sweat as he checked
the figures on the read-'out screens. Purpur read them
too, and yowled with disbelief.
  "We're hit portside-section three!" a voice
squawked over the intercom, as the Hazard began to
pass beneath the rapidly-decelerating man-o'-war.
  "Tail-screens buckling!" another voice squawked in
alarm.
  "They won't hold!"
  "What's the damage to the enemy?" Rian asked, as
the temperature in the control-center soared.
  "Zilch! Not a brakking thing!"
  "That's impossible!" Rian exclaimed, just as an ex-
plosion rocked the Hazard.
  "We're hit amidships! It looks bad-real bad!"
  That will put an end to the insurgent trash, Blorg
gloated, as the Hazard veered sharply off-course,
rocked by an explosion that momentarily left its after-
image on the screens of the console. Stay behind her,
Blorg ordered the co-pilot. I want to see that ship con-
sumed on the vidscreen. Full speed ahead!
  All of them, thought Blorg. With the sole exception of
that old fool in the purple cowl. My agents have done
their work well. I would give much to see Rian' sface the
instant before he is blown to nothingness. . .
  My lord, they're toofastfor us-I'm losing them on
the vidscreen, the co-pilot informed Blorg, interrupting
his pleasant contemplation.

  Haaass! The lord of the Ysss punched-up the long-
range scanners, hissing his disappointment at being de-
prived of the sight of the Hazard's impending destruc-
tion. He leaned over the con sol and fixed his cold,
unblinking stare on the screen of the forward-scanner.
  The blip that represented the Hazard smeared and
distorted for a moment, and then dilated back into its
original shape. They've just entered the atmosphere of
t he world X -8, the co-pilot remarked, punching-up the
appropriate star-chart on the locator-screen.
  As the image zoomed-up to full magnification, Blorg
glanced at the accompanying read-out. X-8 was a world
considered by the Taylians to be non-viable for coloni-
zation or exploitation: two of its three continents were
in the north-temperate and frigid zones, still covered by
the retreating glacial masses of a recent iceage; the third
was in the tropics, and consisted mainly of barren des-
erts or impenetrable rain forests, both thought to be
uninhabitable by higher forms of life.
  A nice hospitable place, thought Blorg. It is a pity
that the Hazard's reactors are going to blow, because
the thought of Rian and his friends strandedforever on
such a desolate place appeals to me greatly. Their
sufferings would be much-prolonged.
  Suddenly, the screen of the forward-scanner flared as
it registered a tremendous explosion. The read-outs on
the Scourge's instrument panel went haywire for a mo-
ment. Blorg watched carefully until they stabilized once
more. Then he looked back at the scanner-screen: the
Hazard's blip had disappeared.
  Destroyed! Destroyed! Blorg exulted. More soulsfor
the hungry mouth of hell! A darkjoy welled up inside of
him. This night I will make a great offering to the god of
death.
  Approaching the atmosphere of X-8, my lord, the
co-pilot told him. -.:
  Turn the ship around and put us on a one-eighty
degree course, Blorg replied. Then accelerate to
hyperspace entry speed.
  One-eighty. Preparing to accelerate.
  And now, we shall go back to Flaigon and give the
Dark Emperor the good news... 


                      Chapter 6
               Shipwrecked on Azitlin


  As the Scourge streaked through hyperspace, bound for
the barren and rocky sunace of the black planet, Blorg
imagined that his next view of the dead world would be
lovelier than any that had gone before. Returning to
Ylang's homeworld had always been pleasaRt for the
lord of the Ysss, because the sight of Flaigon on his
vidscreens, with its seas of shadow and gaping craters,
reminded him of the grinning skulls of the dead. For
Blorg was a connoisseur of death; as other beings col-
lected electro-stamps or autographed holo-images, he
collected skulls.
  His spacious living-quarters in Kordor resembled a
catacomb; and his den was a veritable boneyard. The
ancient Mordlings, those most horrible of all mortal
creatures, had been the architects of Lord Blorg's
domicile; and death was its decorator. Black and white
were the predominant colors, the radiant basalt of the
Forbidden City's sunaces setting of the chalky white of
bleached bones. The Devastator's victims, no matter
how recalcitrant or rebellious in life, served Blorg well
in death, their bones providing his furniture and uten-
sils. The arms and legs of his chairs and tables were
more than arms and legs in name only; he drank from a
skull and ate from a brainpan; he shook hands with the
dead every time he opened a door; and the walls of his
chambers were hung with what the Ysss considered to
be works of art: triangles of skulls-humanoid,
animaloid and! insectoid, grisly assemblage~ whose
component elements were the heads {)f those who had
once opposed him or incurred his displeasure.
  And this time, the sight of the great black skull that
was Glaigon would be invested with a special signifi-
cance for the reptiloid lord, as it became the emblem of
his latest triumph.
  How satisfying, thought Blorg. The joys of mating
pale beside those of revenge. . .

  As the concussion from the massive explosion shud-
dered its beams and strained its outer-plating, the
Hazard was bathed in a scorching wave of furiously
churning energy. "Activate scrambler!" Red Rian
grunted, feeling as if his guts were being wrenched out
of his body.
  "Scrambler activated!" Ween Leever shouted back,
his vision beginning to blur from the vibrations that
shook the starship.
  "We're going down," the star-pirate said. He ges-
tured to Purpur. "Activate the surface-scanners and
find me a decent place to land on that 'big blob of
desolation." Glancing back at the screens, he was re-
lieved to see that Blorg',s ship had changed its course
and was speeding off in the opposite direction. His ruse
had worked! 
  The Hazard had been badly-damaged in the
encounter, and Rian knew he had to get away from
Blorg and take her down before the reactors backed up,
turning the ship into a momentary supernova. And the -
only way to get that murder-obsessed snake offhis back
was to make him think his intended victims had been 
destroyed;

  As soon as the Hazard had entered the atmosphere of
X-8, Rian gave the order to fire all the Hazard's tor-
pedos, once they were pre-set in a magnetic interlock.
This resulted in their rendezvous and simultaneous de-
tonation. Then, at the moment of explosion, the activa-
tion of the scrambler- Ween's marvelous anti-
detection gizmo-fouled the Scourge's instruments,
causing Blorg to think that the Hazard had blown her
reactors and been consumed.
  So far, so good. the star-pirate thought. Blorg goes
away happy, and we live to fight another day. But the
next time we meet, I'll be dealing the cards.
  "Ween Nerdeen," he yelled aloud, "I love ya-:--you
baggy-eyed little fuzz-ball! Make a mental note to tell
the League to start outfitting its starships with those
scramblers of yours, boy."
  "First we've got to get back in one piece. And don'~
call me that!"
  Rian tugged at his beard distractedly. That was a
sobering thought. Even if they were lucky enough to
land in one piece-and he had his doubts about that,
getting the ship aloft again was going to be no mean
trick. "J have every confide)lce in you, Weenie-boy,"
Rian said, the exhuberance in his voice lacking its coun-
terpart in his convictions. "We'll be back in action in no
time."
  Purpur's meow directed his skipper's attention to the
scanner screens. At ultra-high magnification they re-
vealed the presence of a fairly large open area in the
otherwise unbroken expanse of rain forest. "Hang on to
your hats," Rian said, "I'm taken' 'erdown!" The ship
began to wobble as part, of its stabilizing system
shorted-out. "If any of you are alive after we crash-
land, I'll expect your personal thanks." Rian looked
over his shoulder at Nila. She gave him a strained smile.
"See you on X-8, babe," he said.

  Quaarg ran his four black-gloved hands over the
smooth surface of glowing basalt and peered around the
comer, holding his breath as he did. Nothing. The cor-
ridor was empty. With a hiss of relief, he proceeded on
his way with the cautious tread of one who walks on a
carpet of serpent's eggs.
  The Dark Emperor had been in a playful mood ever
since Lord Blorg's departure, and its latest amusement
was one that all the inhabitants of Kordor found very
unsetttling. To while away the hours pleasantly, Ylang
had set th~ Mordling clones to prowl the Forbidden
City's corridors. . . on empty stomachs, to boot.
  After a few days of this, even the Yss were nervous
wrecks, for no one was ever sure whether or not death
lurked just around the next comer. The horrific
Mordlings, gigantic as they were, crept through the
passages of the Forbidden City with the stealth of cats,
and waited patiently to spring on the unsuspecting mice
who served the Devourer. Quaarg wished that Blorg
would finish his business in Taylos and hurry back. He
was as eager to see the Devastator as a bride-to-be
waiting at the altar for the first glimpse of her overdue
groom.
  If only Ylang would feed the damned things, Quaarg
thought, his body tensing as he approached another
corner. Then they'd lose interest and leave us alone. He
didn't mind so much that the Mordlings killed and de-
voured by the dozen slaves and their guards; that was
merely a minor inconvenience, something the young
reptiloid lord could live with. What really disturbed
Quaarg was the fact that the awful creatures regarded
the Yss as their favorite food. That was hard to take.
  And how shocking they were to behold! Even the
dark Yss blanched at the sight of them: over thirty feet
tall, eyes flaring, talons flexing, scales glittering
morbidly, the ground thundering beneath their feet as
they charged, shrieking like a broadcast from hell!
Quaarg thought of the creation myth of his people,
where the Yss were created from the stuff of the
dreams of the serpent-god, Hiisazel, once it had ming-
led with the fluids of Aaal, the goddess who embodid
Sserp. And he thought that the Mordlings must have
been the product of some insane deity's worst night-
mare.
  Slowly he peered around the corner. Just as he did, he
heard a shriek that turned the blood in his veins to
something resembling the contents of a frozen pipeline.
At the far end of the corridor, he saw four of his
brother-reptiloids skid around the corner, bounce off
the wall and fall allover each other in their haste. They
were up in a flash, off and running followed a moment
later by that thing from the sub-cellars of hell-a hun-
gry Mordling!
  Haaa-aa-ass! Haaa-aa-ass! Quaarg, once he had re-
covered from the shock of what he had seen, turned on
his heel and shot down the corridor, trying desperately
to recapture the feeling of ovoid security he knew in the
days before he was hatched. In the distance ahead of
him, he saw three helmeted heads pop out from behind a
wall and peer around the corner, their visors glowing
with the reflected light of the walls and ceiling.
  Mordling! Mordling! Quaarg shouted telepathically,
his four arms waving wildly in the air, flailing like the
limbs of a pair of drowning twins. The helmets popped
back out of sight. Quaarg skidded around the sharp turn
on one foot, smashed into the far wall, bounced off the
black stone and landed flat on his back. By the time he
was able to scremble to his feet, the four Ysss behind;
him came screeching around the c-Orner, digging in with!
their heels to retard their breakneck speed. 
  Clong! Blang! They, too, smacked into the black 
wall, bounced back and fell to the floor, taking the 
unfortunate Quaarg down with them, their body-armor
clattering on the basalt with the sounds of combat in a 
junkyard. Mordling! the mental yell went up Mordling! 
  Ylang laughed and lit up the lair with a thunderous 
display of pyrotechnics that could have been used to 
celebrate a national holiday in hell. This is great sport! 
the Dark Emperor thought gleefully, as the horde in the 
antechamber pounded on the doors to the lair and 
begged admittance. Seeing that its lair was the only 
place in Kordor that was off-limits to the Mordlings,
Ylang had no lack of visitors these days. 
  Who is it? the Devourer asked coyly. . . 

  There was no way you could possibly call it a soft 
landing. Out of control, the Hazard fell several hundred
yards short of the clearing and tore through the dense
jungle-vegetation of the surrounding rain forest, goug- 
ing its way through the matted, interlocking wall of 
foliage, bowling over thick trees festooned -with lianas 
and leaving a ~wath of fire in its superheated path. 
  But the crash-landing was a happy accident: the thick 
vegetation had retarded the starship's momentum, 
braking its progress so much that by the time the clear- 
ing was reached, the Hazard ground to a halt. And the
good ship's occupants were all fortunate enough to ,
escape with their lives. A few bones were broken here
and there, and many of the crew had headaches that
made a hangover seem like a lover's caress, but all on
board thanked the infinitevfor having decided to bet the
long-shot
  After he'd made sure the crew were all in one piece,
Rian helped Nila out of the Starship. The earth beneath
his feet was hard and level, as if it had been tamped
down on purpose. In the tropical woodland that sur-
rounded the clearing, birds and animals cawed and
roared, shrieked and jabbered, all startled by the
Hazard's spectacular land. Behind Rian, the night sky
glowed red as acres of foliage caught fIre inlhe wake of
his spectacular landing.
  "This is not exactly downtown Libera," the skipper
of the Hazard said, checking to reassure himself that his
head and neck were still connected.
  "Home never looked so good," Nilareplied. "Espe-
cially when you consider the alternatives."
  "As somebody once said," Rian whispered in her
ear, "it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to be
shipwrecked here." He leaned over and kissed the nape
of her neck.
  "Stop that!" Nila said, shrugging him off with atoss
of her gold,enhair. "Rian you've got a defective sense of
occasion." Dann came up beside them.
  "Are you all right?" he asked the lady from the
golden planet. She answered with a sweet smile and a
kiss on the cheek. Rian made a sour face and turned to
stare out into the night. At the far end of the clearing,
directly opposite him, he noticed huge piles of stone,
dimly-lit by the fire's flickering light. He wondered
what they could be. Then his thoughts turned to Blorg.
Looks like good guys don't have a monoply on the
breaks. But the next time I get my hands on that scaly,
hissing bas. . . "
  "Hey, Rian!" Ween Leever shouted, emerging from
the ship. "Guess what? The transmitter's out. Must
have shorted when we took one in the bow."
  "Think you can fix it?" he asked, when Ween came
up beside him.

  Ween shook his head. "No way. The circuitry's
melted down into a glob as big as your fist. It looks like
the only way we're gonna get to communicate with
anybody is through prayer."
  Dann smiled when he heard this. "Ween's on the
right track," he said. "Don't forget you've got a
member of the Fellowship with you."
  "He's right, Rian," Nila said. "Dann should be able
to contact Garthane through his powers of mind."
  The buccaneer grinned broadly. "That's right! How
about giving your father a buzz, Danni-boy?" He gave
Dann a playful tap on the chin. "And tell him to get the
Leagl,le-techs working on those scramblers," he added
as an afterthought. "If Blorg's little pals have their
ships rigged-out with those shields that oJ<l snake-brain
had, the League's gonna be in big trouble."
  "It was a force-field of some kind," Ween volun-
teered. "From what I saw on the vidscreen, I'd say it
was light-energy. . . in some kind of sub-atomic par-
ticulate suspension, combining with magnetic. . . "
  "Save that for the Greeban techies," Rian inter-
rupted. "What frazzes my mind is wondering where
Blorg ever got hold of such advanced technology. The
Yss don't have the brain-space in their bony noggins to
invent the wheel, let alone come up with something like
that."
  "Ylang," Ween replied. "It's got to be Ylang. The
thing is disgusting, but it's also incredibly intelligent.
Remember the time we were on Flagion? Or should I
say in Flaigon? When Ylang entered our minds and
overrodeourwills? . . Well,justbefore I went under, I
got a glimpse of some of the stuff it keeps in its mind.
And believe me, what's stored in its memory-banks is
fantastic. It knows almost. . . everythin~."

  Rian thought about this. "So that's why it's been so
quiet for the past year or so," he said after along pause.
  "That poor imitation of an atomic furnace has picked up
some new tricks."
  "We've got ~o warn the League," Nila said.
  "Yeah. The lady's right,"Rian told them as Purpur
came up noiselessly in the shadows behind them.
  "Dann-boy," the pirate continued, "how about it?"
  Dann nodded and stepped back from his friends,
turning to stare out into the darkness. He began to
breathe deeply and rhythmic,ally, his muscles relaxing
as he did. After a few seconds, his eyes rolled up in his
head and his mouth relaxed into a serene smile. Then
his breathing began to slow down, indicating that his
heartbeat and pulse-rate were lowering as he entered
the trance-state.
  No one made a sound. Even the creatures of the rain
forest were silent now, having spent their choruses of
fright and outrage. The only sounds to be heard were
the far-off conversations of the Taylians as they clam-
bered in and out of the Hazard, and the roar and crackle
of the fire, muted now as it died out. The humanoids
heard nothing but the sound of their own breathing.
Only Purpur heard something, his cat's-ears inclining in
the direction of the sound, a soft, momentary rustling in
the shrubbery off to Dann's left.
  Dann's face lit up with the ecstasy of communion
with the Infinite, the beatific smile on his face a familiar
sight to those who knew the Fellowship of Light. Sway-
ing back and forth gently, moved by the rhythms of his
own breathing, the young Aquaean was totally oblivi-
ous to the universe of external sensation.
  Nila watched Dann carefully, struck by the serenity
and beauty of his expression. He looks looks so beauti-
ful, she thought. 1'd like to go up to him and. . .

  Suddenly, Purpur snarled as something crackled in
the underbrush. Just as Rian was turning in the
felinoid's direction, he saw an object fly out of the
darkness and strike Dann a hard blow to the side of the
head. As the star-pirate whipped-out his zapper, Dann
collapsed on the packed earth of the clearing. Purpur
stepped out of the shadows with an angry toss of his
silver mane, broke the silence with a deep-throated
roar, and plunged into the foliage.
  "Purr!" Rian shouted as Nila and Ween ran to
Dann's side. Purr-come back! It's pitch-black and
you don't know what's out there!"

  Anlix Ozain, Supreme Commander of the League of
Free Worlds, fidgeted at his desk in the Headquarters
building at Libera. It wasn't like Nila to be late, espe-
cially when she knew there was a staff conference
scheduled for one hour after her arrival. The chair
creaked as he shifted his burly frame, and his bald head
reflected the light of the lumi-disks like a dull mirror as
he leaned over his desk and scrawled a message on a
senso-pad with his golden tele-pen.
  The text of the message was an order requesting the
League's com-center to transmit immediately to Taylos
and seek a clarification of the lady Nila' s present status
and inquire as to the whereabout of the Hazard.
  Deep in thought, Ozain put down the tele-pen, leaned
back in his creaking chair, and ran his hand over the
smooth hemisphere of J:tis cranium. Nila and Rian are
important members o/the inner council: they're needed
here to discuss the League's plans to liberate the Ha-
vanal galazy. Where the hell are they?
  He stared out the window that faced his desk, into the
golden afternoon of Aurea Solis, and hoped they would
touchdown before he heard from Taylos.
  Springing into the underbrush with the grace of a
panther, Purpur raced after Dann' s unknown assailant.
Then he stopped for a moment by the trunk ()f a large
tree, listening to pick up the sound and scent of his
quarry. Penetrating the jungle blackness like an infra-
red scanner, his cat's-eyes followed the trail of matted
grass that indicated the direction of flight. Out in the
clearing, Rian bellowed for him to come back, but Pur-
pur disregarded his skipper's warnings. Does a cat
abandon the pursuit of a mouse just because you call for
it to stop? Can the rubberband of reason hold back the
pressure of the steel spring of an instinct as old as the
feline species itself?
  The felinoid moved on, his mane sparkling in the
moonlight like a white-cap on an angry sea. Purpur's
instincts were operating at maximum output, concen-
trated and focused by the lens of his critical intelligence.
He had already processed the input of his senses and
arrived at three conclusions regarding whatever it was
that he pursued: One: it was a biped; Two: it was proba-
bly humanoid: Three: it was not alone.
  They had also stopped, listening for him, but he was
quicker and had halted before the group ahead did. He
heard the harsh sounds of their labored breathing and
their whispered jabber. The language they spoke was
unintelligible to the catman, but he heard them repeat
one word over and over. Tenoxatli. It must have been
their name for him, because all repeated it fearfully each
time it was spoken. T~noxatli. The speakers called him
that, pronouncing it in vokes colored by overtones of
dread. Well, he would soon give them something to 'c
dread, all right. . . .
  
  Garthane's cry of alarm rang out in the dark cabin~
the starship that took him to the Fellowship's strong-
hold in the outworlds of the Nova Vega system. Shiver-
ing, he sat up in his bed and wiped away the geads of
cold sweat that had formed on his forehead. The most
serene being in two galaxies had just awakened from
one of his rare nightmares. . . or so he thought.
  The High Master took a deep breath and blinked his
eyes in concentration, trying to recall the details of his
dream. There had been green, a sea of green; and fire;
great, lapping tongues of flame that spoke in the roaring
gutturals of disaster; and there was Dann, his son,
standing in a silver light, surrounded by a blackness as
deep as the pockets of night. Dann was trying to tell him
something. '.' something urgent and important. But it
was all scrambled in his head, dark and unclear. Garth-
ane, an adept at interpreting the meaning of dreams,
understood none of it.
  I must be getting old, he thought. I'm beginning to
feel the weight of my centuries. The dream must have
merely been the expression of an old man's growing
fears about the future. He shook his head as he settled
back into bed. Thank the Infinite it was only a dream.
By now, Dann and his companions are probably in their
beds on Aurea Solis. . .

  There were screams in the rain forest when Purpur
sprang at his prey, and men screamed louder than the
birds. "Tenoxatli!" they screamed, dropping their
flint-headed spears and axes of obsidian, scattering in
terror. "Tenoxatli!" And their terror was justified as
the giant felinoid attacked, roaring like a tiger, tearing
like a leopard, springing like a panther and striking like a
lion. Ten men scattered as the angry catman attacked;
eight of them would never rise to run again. Purpur
roared his trimph at the moon of X-8, causing the jungle
to fall silent. The two survivors of the hunt he took back
to the Hazard, where Rian and the crew stood, zappers
and laser-rifles at the ready.
  The star-pirate gave a sigh of relief as his first mate
emerged from the green wall of foliage, and ran out to
greet him, flanked by six of his crew. He studied the
forms of the two prisoners who trailed behind the
felinoid, their heads bent low as the cat-man dragged
them by their long and lustrous black hair. Purpur
stopped when his skipper came up, and released the
prisoners with a growl that rumbled up from the bottom
of the barrel of his chest; the two menjabbered with fear
and feU prostrate at his feet. Then he embraced Rian,
arid emitted a high-pitched, questioning yowl.
  "Dann's in his berth," the pirate replied, reading his
mate's signal as he stepped out of the furry embrace.
"Doc says it's a concussion." Purpur noticed the grave
look on his skipper's face. "The kid's in a deep coma."
He shook his head. "So we can just forget about com-
municating with Garthane."
  Purpur's mewing reflected the sadness in his heart,
for he loved his friend from Aquaea. Dann had to re-
cover. He had to . . . He looked down at the prisoners
. . . or else there'd be two more men on the way to the
halls of their ancestors.
  Rian activated the lumi-beam he held in his hand and
trained it on the prisoners, asking Purpur to yank them
to their feet. The natives were humanoid all right, small
to medium in height, dressed only in sandals, loincloth
and headbands that supported three white, flaring
plumes. They had round heads, almond eyes, and
generous, hooked noses; their skins were dark as
bronze, tanned by long exposure to the planet's sun.
 
  The light on Rian's translator-belt flashed as he de-
pressed its lingua-scanner button: "Speak up, boys,"
he said, addressing the prisoners. "Loud and clear,
now. State your names and your business."
  "Tenoxatli!" they babbled, pointing respectfully at
Purpur, "Tenoxatli lata nexatawan, Kizat nal attu sena
entutallati."
  "Smoking bolt-holes !" the buccaneer exclaimed dis-
gustedly, fiddling with the semantic-locator dial on his
belt. "These bozos don't even speak a)anguage whose
roots are listed in the galactic index. Must be a rela-
tively new culture."
  He pointed at the ground, lifting his arm in ever-
widening circles to include the clearing and the rain
forest that surrounded it. "Where are we?" Rian asked
slowly, in the manner people frequently adopt when
talking to foreigners in the irrational belief that de-
creased speed will provide the key to decode their
words. "What. . . is . . . the name. . . of. . . this. . .
place?"
  The prisoners studied him for a moment, listening
carefully to the tone of his words. A look of comprehen-
sion flooded the face of one of them, and he answered.
"Azitlin, Nala tehu tehuatali Azitlin. "
  Red Rian smiled as he was rewarded for his linguistic
efforts. "Welcome to Azitlin," he told Purpur. "Okay,
mates. Let's get back to the ship.

  "Before you do, drop your weapons on the ground!"
A bass voice growled from the darkness in a language
Rian and his crew understood.
  The star-pirate turned around slowly as he dropped
his zapper, and shone his lumi-beam in the direction of
the voice.
  "Tell the others to drop their weapons, red-beard-
or I'll sizzle you in your own fat!" the voice growled
again, as Rian' s lumi-beam glittered on the barrels of a
dozen laser-rifles.
  Ylang's obscene laughter filled the corridors of Kor-
dor as Blorg emerged from the levitator and froze in his
tracks, turned to stone by the sight of the hideous giant
that charged at him, shrieking with bloodlust.
  Coming to his senses an instant later, as the ground
shook beneath his feet, Blorg whipped out his zapper,
steadied it like a tripod with two more of his arms, and
went into a crouch. Bzzz-z-z-zzzat! The weapon flared
and its beam lanced out, striking the Mordling full in the
chest. The monstrosity staggered back a few feet, beat-
ing frantically at the smoking scales on its pectorals.
  Sunlight and soft breezes! Blorg cursed as he fumbled
to adjust the zapper's setting. That shot would have
blown five men away! He flicked the switch to high just
as the beast began to charge again, the beams of its eyes
glaring like satanic headlights.
  Yeeee- yaaa-a-a-ooo-o-o-r-r-rrow! The horror
screamed, lunging at the lord of the Y sss, the green
poison of its rage dripping from the daggers in its jaws.
  Haaa-a-a-ass . . . Blorg exhaled and steadied his
hand before he touched the zapper's firing-button. The
thing's shadow fell over him like a stormcloud, but still
he waited, lining up its disgusting head in his gunsight.
Now! he thought, scorched by its searing breath. Now

  Bzzz-z-z-zzat! Phwooom! The Mordling ~topped sud-
dently and straightened up, its arms flailing out and
thwacking the stone ceiling. Its head was now a fireball,
and the saliva it drooled turned to molten lava. Smoke
billowed out of its mouth in the visual equivalent of a
scream. And then, with the sound of a wall falling, the
Mordling crashed to the ground, its brains reduced to
ashes.
  Bravo, Blorg! The Dark Emperor's thoughts boomed
in his head. The lord of the Ysss got to his feet and
holstered his zapper with two shaking hands as the
Devourer ordered the rest of the fiends back to their
vaults. Haaa-aa-aas! Haaa-aa-ass! The Forbidden
City sounded like a steam-room as the frazzled Y sss
overlords sighed their collective relief. Blorg bathed in
the vapors of their gratitude as he walked stiffiy in the
direction of Ylang's lair.
  I was merely amusing myself in your absence, my
son, the Great Devourer told him with a chuckle that
could have blackened a field of lilies. I have taken to
little games as a source of distraction. The sight of the
Mordling clones reminded me of the thousand years of
my childhood.
  Blorg shuddered involuntarily as he approached the
doors to the lair. Ylang- Ylang' s sense of humor, like the
rest of it, was unusual, to say the least.
  Come inside, sweet Blorg. I have one more little
surprise for you, my darling.
  As the doors groaned open and the mind-raped herald
roared out his name, Blorg tensed his muscles at the
prospect of more of what the Dark Emperor considered
fun-and-games. He loosened the zapper in its holster
and shaded his eyes from the vile effulg~nce of his
master as he entered, senses alert and prepared for
anything.
  Anything, that is, but what he saw next. There before
him, in the center of the throne-room, stood a group of
humanoids. He squinted as he peered through his one-
way yisor, trying to make out their features in the gloom
that came from Ylang' s energies being banked low.
  Haaass! The reptiloid gasped as he recognized the
figures who stood in the center of the group. He
couldn't believe his eyes. Shaking his head and blinking
rapidly, he looked again. . . and saw Nila, Dann Ory-
zon, Purpur, the crew of the Hazard and. . . none other
than Red Rian!
  Rian! he thought, paralyzed by astonishment as the
burly, red-bearded skipper of the Hazard screamed his
name in rage and charged across the floor at him. How is
this poss . . . ?
  Before Blorg could complete the thought Rian hit him
with a flying tackle that brought him to the ground, his
black body-armor clacking on the stone floor like the
castanets of a demented gypsy.
  Blorg's hands flexed into claws and descended on
Rian's back as the lair shook with Ylang's evil laughter
...


                     Chapter7 
                Ylang's Creations


  "Hey--I know you guys!" Red Rian exclaimed, as the
rising sun of Azitlin suffused the sky with broad bands
of purple and violet. The Hazard stood surrounded by
several hundred tall, broad-shouldered men and women
in helmets and breastplates of barikrome and cloaks of
synthi-fur. The men all wore long, untrimmed beards
and the women's hair hung down to the small of their
backs. The new arrivals were armed to the teeth and
looked as if they meant business, what with all the
zappers and laser-rifles in evidence, and the double-
bladed axes of durallium that hung from their broad
belts.
  "You're Valsings-from Havanal," the skipper of
the Hazard continued, nodding at the burly man who
was obviously the leader of the armed band. "I had a
few brushes with you people before the Dark Empire
occupied your galaxy."
  The man smiled back at Rian with a smile as cold and
sharp as the axe that hung at his side. "Yes, I re-
member ," he said. "You're Rian, the Taylianpirate we
drove out of the sector that contained our homeworld,
V ormergoord."
  "I prefer to think of it as a strategic retreat," Rian
replied immediately. "After all, your ships outnum-
bered mine ten to one." The burly man's smile turned
into a smirk. "Five or six to one, and I would've stuck
around," the star-pirate added insolently.

  "Careful, Red-beard," said the tall brunette who
stood by the chiefs side. "Another lie such -as that
could stick in your throat and clog your windpipe."
  "Now, hold on, lady," the pirate retorted. "The
starship hasn't been launched yet that can down the
Hazard in a fair fight."
  "You dare to say that," she countered, "after a
single Dark Empire vessel blows you out of the void!"
  The burly man raised his hand. "That's enough,
leif." He turned back to Rian. "We 'caught the
encounter on our long-range scanners from our ships
here on the ground. I was amazed to see a lone imperial
craft dare to engage an enemy. We were sure that more
starships were on the way."
  Rian made a sour face. "I guess you didn't pick up
what really happened at that range. They've come up
with some kind of force-field that's impossible to pene-
trate with lasers or torpedos."
  "That is not good news," the man said, shaking his
head.
  " And that's not all. I thought I'd killed that old snake,
Blorg, during the Battle of Aurea Solis back in Primula
but then he . . ."
  "Blorg!" the man exclaimed, interrupting Rian. He
exchanged dark looks with the woman beside him. "If
we had known that was Blorg out there, we would have
come to your aid, no matter what."
  "I couldn't touch him," Rian said, in a wistful voice.
  "Couldn't even put a dent in his shielding." He studied
the couple. "So Blorg's no friend of yours either, hah?"
  "We owe him a blood-debt," the Valsing-chief re-
plied grimly. "We led the defense of our galaxy, and
when it fell. . . Blorg ordered our homeworld de-
stroyed."

Rian's eyes met the man's. "Was your homeworld
irradiated?"
  The Valsing took a deep breath before he replied.
"Exactly. Nothing lives on the surface of Vormer- 
goord. How do you know this?"
  When he answered, Rian's eyes were as cold as deep
space. "They did the same thing to Urgel-my
homeworld."
  "Then we have much in common." The man offered,
Rian his hand.
  "We share a blood-debt," the star-pirate replied,
shaking the proffered hand. 
  "I am Ordlar," the man told Rian and his compan-
ions. "And this bold woman is Zeif, my bride." He
broke out into a wide grin. "Zeif is a travel agent. She
has sent many soldiers of the Dark Empire on a one-way
trip to hell." 
  "Then Zeif is a lady worthy of the greatest respect,"
Rian replied. "My compliments. Do Valsing women ",
always fight beside their men?"
  "Always. And sometimes in front of them," Zeiftold
him, winking broadly at Ordlar.
  "You have much to tell us, Rian,"the Valsing-chief
said. "Three of our ships escaped when Havanal fell,
and we came to X-8-or Azitlin, as the aborigines call
it. We pick off empire ships in the vicinity from time to
time, but are out of touch with intergalactic events. We
were sure that Primula had fallen."
  "Have I got a surprise for you," Rian replied. He
proceeded to tell the Valsings of the armada's defeat
and the subsequent liberation of Taylos.
  "Now tell us how you managed to escape from,
Blorg," Ordlar said when the pirate had finished. 
  As the sun came up over the rain forest, Rian ex-
plained about the torpedo-interlock and his use of
Ween's scrambler.
  "This scrambler, could it get us onto Flaigon?" the
Valsing asked.
  Rian shot him a quizzical look. "Well, yeah," he
replied. "But why d'you want to go to that black hole?"
  "To kill the Dark Emperor," Ordlar replied matter-
of-factly. "After all, Blorg is merely his agent. The
blood-debt ultimately falls to him."
  "Zel's bells!" the star-pirate exclaimed. "You've
never met Ylang- Ylang, have you, Ordlar?" The Vals-
ing shook his head. "Well, I have," Rian continued.
"First of all, Ylang's not a him, but an it. Second, it
seems to be immortal. I'm not at all sure you can kill it."
  "My people have a saying, Rian: Whatever.tives can
die."
  "Oh, wow!" Rian heard Ween exclaim behind him.
  "Your chief tech-head will build scramblers for us in
his fine workshop," Ordlar said, pointing to Ween.
  "Then we will be able to touch down on Flaigon. Once
there, we will storm Ylang's palace. . . and destroy it."
  Rian sighed. "That's a one-way trip, my friend."
  "We are prepared for that," Zeif told him. "Ever
since our home was destroyed, we have been ready to
dwell in the halls of our ancestors."
Ordlar looked up at Purpur. "This gentleman is from
Yahwoo, is he not?" Purpur nodded. "You are the one
the native prisoners call Tenoxatli .'i'
  "Just who is Tenoxatli? Rian asked.
  "You shall find out in a moment," Zeiftold him,just
as the sound of flutes and drums and rattles could be
heard in the distance. Rian turned to look across the
clearing. With a start, he realized that last night's
dimly-seen heaps of stone were actually pyramids,
laboriously hand-carved and assembled from massive
blocks of stone. And at that moment, thousands of the
natives of Azitlin-male and female, young and
old-were gathering around the bases of the pyramids,
speaking to each other in hushed whispers and glancing
around nervously from time to time at the far end of the
clearing where the Hazard had landed.
  "What's going on over there?" the buccaneer asked.
  "A little celebration in honor of our friend
Tenoxatli ," Ordlar replied. "They saw and heard his
rampage in the jungle last night, and are convinced he is,
the incarnation of their jaguar-god. Now they are hold-
ing a great ceremony to propitiate him."
  "Why are they dragging those people up the steps of
that pyramid?" Rian asked. "Why are they struggl-
ing?"
  "Because," came the reply, "the ceremony entails
human sacrifice."

  Ah-hah-hah-hah-hahahahaha-aaaaa! As Blorg's
fingers wrapped around his arch-enemy's windpipe,
Ylang- Ylang' s laughter sent tremors rolling through the
floor of the lair. Enough, sweet Blorg! the Dark Em-
peror commanded, as Rian' s eyes began to roll up in his
head. Blorg felt the pirate's body go limp in his arms.
  Surprise! Surprise! Ylang's thought-voice boomed,
the tones of its merriment darker and more awful than
the sound of the war-trumpets of the Death Legion.
Cast it aside, my son. It is not your enemy, but merely a
simulacrum of my own creation.
  Blorg did as he was ordered and got to his feet,
trembling allover from the shock induced by the tyr-
ant's little games. He looked down at the form on the
floor. It looks exactly like Red Rian, he thought. To the
last detail. But I have destroyed Red Rian . . .
  Then he looked OVer to the group of humanoids clus-
tered in the center of the lair. Nila, Dann Oryzon. The
felinoid, Purpur. The boy, Ween Leever. The Taylian
pirates. Who else could they be? But it was impossible!
  No, my darling, the emperor reassured him, they are
not what they seem to be. They are merely replicas of
their originals. . . duplicate copies from the great press
of life.
  But how. . . ?
  The time they were here in Kordor, as I was about to
devour them, I went deep inside their minds and bodies
... and took unto myself all their thoughts and
feelings, the patterns of their minds and instincts -the
very imprint of their genes. And, to pass the time while
you were away, I used the workshops of my ancestors to
clone their likenesses.
  They are indeed the same, Father Ylang -to all out-
ward appearances, Blorg replied, after a long scrutiny
of the group.
  Inwardly as well, my son, the Devourer purred. The
simulacra you see before you actually believe they are
the originals.
  Why has my master done this thing?
  At first, merely as an amusement -a little jest to
enliven your return. But then, when I entered your mind
and discovered that Rian and the others were destroyed
without either Garthane or the League of Free Worlds
knowing about it, I conceived of an opportunity to make
a bold move in the great galactic game.
  I propose to send the clones back to Yahwoo. Then,
when the League attempts to penetrate Havanal, my
creations will do two little things to aid our forces. First,
they will sabotage and r:eveal the League's battle-
plans; I will put them in touch with your Taylian agents,
- Lord Blorg. Second, they will assassinate an oldfriend
of ours. . . Garthane.
  Since the clones, for all practical purposes, are Rian
and his friends.. they will act exactly as the originals
would have acted. The lair grew dark as' Ylang's
energies flickered and banked low. The only difference
is that I have programmed them to serve my purposes. I
have even thought of a way to make their rescue in
space seem plausible.
  How will Ylang send them back to Yahwoo?
  In the Hazard, my son.
  But the Hazard no longer exists!
  Its replica does. I have reconstituted itfrom the data
gatheredfrom the probe I made when it touched-down
here. My Mordling beauties have done a remarkable
piece of work.
  Blorg shivered as the black tendrils that promised the
gift of Ylang's ecstasy coiled around his ankles. My
master has worked miracles.
  It is no more than one has a right to expect from a
god, the Devourer replied modestly.

  When the sun of Azitlin was at its zenith, the natives
all gathered around the base of the central pyramid and
stared up at the scene that was taking place by the stone
altar on its levelled summit. Every time the chanting
priests there would intone the word, Tenoxatli, the
on-lookers below would turn their heads in the direction
of the Hazard and repeat the name of the jaguar-god in
awed whispers.
  All morning, since the sun had first come up over the
horizon, the Azitlini had gone from pyramid to pyramid
(there were nine of them) in the course of the great
ceremony. Dressed in white robes whose collars,
sleeves and hems were embroidered in bright colors,
and wearing ritual-masks of animals and birds, topped
by' headdresses composed of sweeping white plumes,
the priests ascended to the top of each pyramid and
made offerings to their gods of food, flowers, incense
and blood-cupfuls of it, poured into small basins that
stood at the foot of each of the statues representing the
gods of Azitlin.
  While the offerings were made and the priests intoned
their chants, the natives below watched in silence. But
as the procession moved to each succeeding pyramid,
they broke into shouts and cries. The procession was
led by a large group of masked dancers clad only in
feathers, loincloths, and bracelets of small, jingling
bells they wore on their wrists and ankles. Behind the
dancers came a smaller number of musicians who
played on drums and long, vertical flutes as well as the
rattles made from gourds and the clacking noisemakers
they shook in their hands.
  The Valsings herded the Hazard's crew over to the
edge of the great clearing directly opposite the central
pyramid, which sat several hundred yards away. Rian
and his companions had all protested strongly when
Ordlar mentioned human sacrifice, but the Valsing-
chief disregarded their words. And the Valsings, ~able
as they seemed t~ be, still surrounded them with drawn
weapons.
  "It is not our business to meddle with his culture,"
Ordlar told them. "We are here as fugitives, not as
missionaries."
  When it was apparent that their hosts would not be
persuaded otherwise, Nila asked to be excused in order
to nurse Dann Oryzon, who was still in a deep coma.
  "Is the lady from Aurea Solis so squeamish, then?"
Zeif asked in a voice tinged with contempt.
  Nila turned and looked her right in the eye. "Not
squeamish, Zeif," she replied coolly. "It's just that I
don't share the Valsing passion for blood-letting."

  Ordlar laughed at this, and gave Nila permission to
return to the starship. Zeif gave her husband a look that
could have stripped the scales off a Ysss. Ordlar caught
his wife in an affectionate bearhug. "No, my little
space-maiden," he crooned. "We must allow for tastes
that are different from our own. She is a Primulan, and
unaccustomed to bloodshed. The Taylians are differ-
ent."
  "Now, hold on there, Ordlar!" Red Rian snapped.
"My men and I don't mind knocking anybody's brains
out in open combat, but we draw the line at butchery
and human sacrifice!" 
  "It is none of our business, Captain Rian," the Vals-
ing told him, with a grin. "We just watch. These
people," he gestured in the direction of the pyramids,
"consider your friend to be a .god-as they do the
Valsings -and that is how the Azitlini honor their gods.
It is their way."
  Rian glared at the Valsing. "But you just happen to
get a kick out of watching' it, don't you, Ordlar?"
Ordlar and Zeif smiled at each other. "That is neither
here nor there, Rian," the chief replied, with a shrug of
his shoulders.
  The pipes shrilled like a cutting wind and the drums
beat like thunder as the priests climbed the steps of the
central pyramid. His face dark with anger and disgust,
Rian turned to Ween Leever. "Give me a run-down on
the Hazard's condition, Ween," he said. "Witnessing a
bunch of murders is not my idea of how to pass the
time." Ordlar shrugged again. Then he and Zeifturned
to stare at the scene on the central pyramid, watching
with intense expectation. The other Valsings turned as
well, although they constantly glanced back at the crew
of the Hazard, and kept their fingers on the triggers of
their weapons.

  Ween's eyes were as wide as saucers, and he didn't
seem able to take them off the priests who had reached
the altar atop the pyramid and were now gathering
around two men and a crippled little girl who were tied
there to wooden poles.
  "W-Well, s-skipper," the boy-genius stammered,
mesmerized by the proceedings across the clearing.
"The ship took a beating, a-and lots of shorts in the
circuitry. But there's nothing I can't repair in a f-few
d-day or a week.. ."
  The priests had untied one of the men, and were
pulling him down on his back, stretching out his limbs as
they did.
  "Go on!" barked Rian.
  "Except for the c-communicator, all the com-circuits
are sh-shot," Ween continued, his eyes never moving
from the top of the stone pyramid. "Even the auxiliaries

One of the priests raised his arms and chanted to the
skies in a loud voice, ending with the word, Tenoxat/i,
" . . . are h-hopelessly fused. We'll never be able to
communicate with. . ."
  The priest reached inside his robe and pulled out a
knife with a long obsidian blade. He leaned over the
victim and made a diagonal cut in the man's chest. The
victim screamed for a long moment; then his body re-
laxed. The priest reached into the man's chest, made
another cut with the knife, and then removed his hand.
He raised his hand to the sky. Then he turned and held it
out in the direction of the Hazard.
  And there in the priest's open hand, its blood stream-
ing down over his arm, was a human heart. "Tenoxatli
ala anatuatil!" the priest cried out in a loud voice. Then
all the natives began to chant, "Tenoxatli! Tenoxatli!"
As Rian watched Ween Leever puke his guts out on
the hardpacked earth, he heard Tenoxatli's latest incar-
nation emit a loud and angry growl behind him.
  "That was well-done," Zeif the Valsing remarked
casually to her husband.
  "Yes," agreed Ordlar. "All except the scream." He
turned to face Rian, Purpur and Ween. "That one must
have been a 'prisoner from one of the other tribes," he
informed them. "Their own people don't scream, as a
rule. It is considered a great dishonor to scream."
  Rian shook his head and frowned with disgust as he
looked at the Valsing couple. "You people have about
as much respect for life as a pair of gar-sharks," he said.
  "You're as cold-blooded as the Ysss."
Ordlar and Zeifsneered at him. "What really matters
is not the way you live," the Valsing-chief told Rian,
"but the way you die. That is the path to glory."
  "The Val sings have about as much compassion for
their fellow-beings as an executioner. Probably less,"
Rian fumed.
  "Compassion breeds weakness," Zeif told him as
Ordlar swaggered up to Purpur.
  "And you, my friend," he said, standing with his
hands on his hips and staring up into the felinoid's face
as the priest cut out the h~art of the second man. "Does
this please you?"
  Purpur's upper lip rose above his sharp incisors as he
snarled at the Valsing.
  "I had hoped it would. Remember, this is all being
done for you. . . Tenoxatli." Ordlar gestured toward
the pyramid, where the screaming crippled girl was
being untied. "If this isn't enough," the Valsing said
with a smirk, "you can always order a few more."
  Whap! Quick as a cat, Purpur raised his right arm and
delivered a hard back-hand slap to the side of Ordlar's
head. The Valsing sailed backwards and landed on the
packed earth with a thud.
  Zeif whipped out her zapper and swept her arm in
Purpur's direction. She was just about to pull the trigger
when Rian knocked the weapon out of her hand. The
Valsing guards trained their weapons on Purpur and
Rian. Zeifshouted, "Kill them!"
  "Hold it !" Ween Leever roared, jumping in front of
his two companions. "L-Listen, you," he stammered
angrily, "if you w-want those scramblers, you'd better
not harm a hair on Purpur's mane. Or t-touch him,
either," he said, jerking his thumb in his skipper's
direction. "Or else, you'd better sh-shoot me, too.
  "Hold your fire!" Ordlar bellowed, as he got to his
feet. "We will do.as you say," he told Ween, pausing to
wipe the blood from his mouth. "But I reserve the right
to settle with the felinoid before we leave this place.
  "On a one-to-one basis?" the star-pirate asked shar-
ply.
  "Of course, Captain Rian," the Valsing replied.
"Ordlar needs no one to kill his enemies for him." He
glared at Purpur. The felinoid bared his fangs and re-
turned the Valsing's stare.
  As Purpur threw a protective arm over Ween's
shoulder, Rian walked up to his friends. "You're all
right, lad," he told Ween. "That was a brave thing to
do. I'm real proud of you."
  Ween blushed and shuffled his feet. Purpur drew the
boy closer to him. Just then, the Val sings all turned
back in the direction of the central pyramid. The high-
priests obsidian knife gleamed in the sunlight. . . .

  Inside the Hazard, Nila sat by Dann Oryzon's side,
staring intently at his face. .The news she' djust received
from Doctor Vana, the ship's chief-surgeon, was any-
thing but reassuring. "If we don't get him out of here
soon," the man had told her, "we may never be able to
bring him out of the coma he's in. That stone axe Dann
got hit with might have caused sever.e brain-damage. I
don't know. . . There's always the chance that, when
he comes out of it, he'll spend the rest of his life as a. . .
vegetable." Doctor Vana winced when he saw Nila's
reaction to this. "I'm sorry, Nila," he said, patting her
arm. "But even that depends on whether or not we get
out of this place in time."
  Nila looked down at the young man in the bio-
respirator. Slowly, a tear trickled down her cheek. You
can't die, Dann-you can't, she thought. If you do, a
part of me dies with you. . .

  Garthane was troubled. The strange sequence of
events that had occurred in the past few days had left
him feeling dissatisfied and uneasy. First, there was the
disturbing dream about Dann' s being in danger. Sec-
ond, there was the mysterious disappearance of the
Hazard. And third, the latest happening involving his
son, the recent report that the starship had been spotted
by a Taylian scout, drifting in space outside the atmos-
phere of Yahwoo. The High Master immediately gave
the order to postpone the mass-initiation ceremony on
Palos and then boarded the Fellowship's fastest craft, in
order to be by his son's side. And when he had
touched-down on Yahwoo, the details he received con-
cerning the Hazard's misfortunes were "even stranger
than the things that had previously occurred.
  Apparently, the Hazard had encountered an unusual
phenomenon before it had time to make the leap into
hyperspace. A vast, cloud-like mass of unknown prop-
erties, some strange and mysterious entity, had
enveloped the vessel and left its mark on all aboard her.
The thing was ofaviral nature, the doctors on Yahwoo
told him, and it had infected Dann and his companions
on contact, sickening them and practically obliterating
their short-term memories. But they were not seriously
harmed, although none of them could recall much of
what they had been through since the time they escaped
from Flaigon. They were almost completely restored to
health by the time the High Master got to see them. The
League's doctors were all in the dark as to what the
strange entity had been; all they had to go on were the
verbal descriptions given them by the crew of the
Hazard.
  Another bizarre detail of the encounter, and one that
puzzled Garthane very much, was the strange physical
property of the phenomenon: the thing appeared to
generate its own very potent magnetic field. All the
Hazard's recording devices had been magnetized, and
thereby erased; even the starship's log had been oblit-
erated. Not a single electronic detail of the encounter
remained; the only available description was in the form
of the crew's vague and confused recollections.
  As he entered the hospital, Garthane felt there was
some connection between the crew's unusual loss of
memory and the erasure of all the starship' s electronic
recording devices; but he had no idea what it could
possibly be. Something about the entire incident dis-
turbed him on a deep, instinctual level. And then there
was the necessity of re-briefing Dann and his compan-
ions all over again concerning the top-secret details of
the coming invasion of Havanal . . .
  But that is a small matter, he thought, compared to
having my son and his friends alive and well and safely
back in the heart of the allied camp.
  Garthane turned a corner, and came to Dann' s room.
He paused for a moment, and then knocked on the door.
"Come in," said the familiar voice, warming the High
Master's heart.
  Only one thing remains to be done, Garthane
thought, as he opened the door. I must return to that
dream and try to make sense of it. ..

  Back on Azitlin, Ween Leever worked like a demon.
The Valsings possessed three starships of the destroyer
class, and Ordlarhad instructed the boy-genius to equip
each of them with scramblers before he began work on
the Hazard. But Ween stood up to the Valsing-chief
again, and held out for a fifty-fifty split in his work-day.
Ordlar, realizing that Ween held the highest cards in the
present hand, grudgingly consented and allowed the
tech-head to divide his time equally between the con-
struction of the scramblers and the repair-work on the
Hazard.
  Red Rian glowed with pride every time he looked at
Ween. As hard as he was on the young Greeban, the
star-pirate had unconsciously come to regard him as his
son, a s_urrogate child who replaced in his affections the
young ones he had lost when his homeworld was de-
stroyed. In fact, Qnce that psychological clue was un-
c;overed, the careful observer became aware that the
self-sufficient and emotionally-guarded Rian had actu-
ally adopted the entire crew of the starship as his family.
To mention this to the pirate, however, entailed the risk
of losing one's front teeth, for Red Rian was far from
ready to admit this fact, even to himself. But if anyone
dared to study the man's behavior for a while, one could
not help but notice that, beneath the outer plating of
toughness and profanity, the buccaneer related to his
friends as warmly as the father of a large and loving
family. And Ween's courageous stand had made Rian
as proud as any father could ever be of his son's
achievements and qualities.
"Y'know, I can't get over the way 01' Weenie-boy
faced down that shark, Ordlar ," the skipper of the
Hazard whispered to Purpur, as they inspected the
starship's hull under heavy guard by the gun-toting
Valsings. "The kid showed more nerve than a Rodian
knife-dancer. Wasn't he great, hah?"
  His second-in-command purred t~udly, reminding
the pirate of a sound ship's reactors humming at the
outset of a voyage.
  "That gakk, Ordlar," Rian continued, pointing up at
a laser-scorched hole in the ship's bright plating. "I'd
love to bury my boot in his beard-that bloodthirsty
sado-mas!"
  Purpur bared his white fangs at this.
  Rian patted him on the shoulder. "Well, you'll get
your chance to settle his hash soon enough." The
felinoid nodded contentedly. Still pointing at the hold
above, Rian whispered to Purpur out of the side of his
mouth. "Don't look downright away. . . but when you
do, check out the stabilizer."
  The object of Rian' s attention was a thin golden disc,
half an inch wide and three inches in diameter, that had
been magnetically attached to the plating of the
stabilizer fin. He lurched suddenly, pretending to,trip,
and fell against the ship's hull. When the pirate
straightened up again, Purpur noticed that the disc had
disappeared. The Valsing guards all laughed at Rian' s
apparent clumsiness, but not a single one of them had
seen the pirate detach and palm the disc.
  They continued on their way around the ship, stop-
ping every now and then to inspect the work in prog-
ress, the guards keeping about ten feet behind them.
"It's a tracer, Purr," Rian whispered. "That explains
why old bonehead was waiting for us when we left
Yahwoo." He stopped and pointed to the repair-crew
on the scaffold above them. Purpur looked up. So did
the guards. "But it's not a Dark Empire tracer," the
star-pirate continued. "They don't make 'em that com-
pact. Matter of fact, there's only one place I know that
makes 'em like that. . . "
  Still looking up at the repair-crew, Purpur nodded
solemnly.
  "Right," the skipper of the Hazard muttered through
clenched teeth, the muscles of his jaw twitching be-
neath the full red beard. "The planet Greeb. Blorg's got
agents in Taylos, all right. . . and guess who they are?"
  "Move along, Red-beard," one of the guards called
out. " We 'renot here to spend all day admiring the holes
in that creaky old tub of yours."
  Rian looked over his shoulder and shot the man a
withering glance. "Buster, you wouldn't know a good
ship if it touched down on top of your big fat head!"
  The guard sneered at him. It seemed to Rian that the
Valsings must have all taken courses in sneering. It was
their primary facial expression; and he had to admit that
they did it better than any other people he'd ever met.
  "You keep makingjokes," the guard replied, gestur-
ing in the direction of the stone pyramids across the
clearing, "and maybe we'll find you a spot on top of that
altar. Those priests would really like to get their hands
on a heart as big as yours." This broke the other Valsing
guards up; they howled and bellowed at their comrade's
remark.
  "What creeps these guys are," Rian told Purpur,
after they had resumed their inspection. "They'd be the
life of the party on Flaigon. They could swap jokes with
the Yss for hours on end, and probably have the time of
their miserable lives."
  The star-pirate grew serious. "The only
Greebans-outside of Ween-we've been in contact
with these days are old Vax and company; Ven Fenben
and the rest of them. Those boys may have funny
names, but they certainly play for keeps."
  Purpur growled in response.
  "Quiet there, TenoxatLi," the guard jeered, "or
you'll have the natives slicing each other up again."
Once more, the Valsings howled with laughter.
  "If these goons weren't going to do us a favor by
harrassing Ylang- Ylang," Rian muttered, "I'd feel
pretty much inclinded to slit their gizzards." Purpur
nodded. "But," the buccaneer continued, "business
before pleasure."
  Then he sighed. "Ween's gonna be awfully upset
when we get back to Yahwoo, and he finds out that I've
blown that big bag of nuts away. 'Cause I'm gonna settle
with Vax Waxnax as soon as we touch down. I never
could stand that dirty old man, and now I know why. . .
But how will I ever make it up to Ween?"
  "Red-beard," the guard behind them interrupted,
"move along. You talk more than two old. . . "
  Rian spun around the interrupted his interrupter.
"One more crack out of you, fat-head, and I'm gonna
blast your teeth so far down your throat that your den-
tist will have to launch an expedition to find 'em!" Of
course, that broke the Valsings up completely. Rian
turned away, his face a study in exasperation.
  Bowing sarcastically to the guards, he grabbed Pur-
pur and took him into the starship. As soon as they were
inside, two new Valsings began to shadow them. Rian
shook his head and pointed in the direction of the sick-
bay.
  They met Doctor Vanajust as he was coming out of
the intensive-care section. Rian noticed the grim ex-
pression on his face as they approached each other.
  "What's the good word, doc?"
  Doctor Vana shook his head. "Not so good, I'm
afraid. Every day we spend on this place boosts the
odds against Dann. If we don't get him proper care
soon, it might be too late. There's not much time, skip-
per."
  "I know," Rian replied. "Ween's finishing the
scramblers tonight, and the Hazard'll be ship-shape
tomorrow. Then we can get out of here."
  "I hope so," the ship's surgeon told him. "I'm really
worried about that boy."

  As he went to the final briefing session on Yahwoo,
Supreme Commander Ozain was optomistic. Captain
Rian and his people were back in action, fully recovered
from the strange virus they had contracted. And they
would be going out in the Hazard tommorrow, when the
invasion of Havanal would finally be launched. And
Garthane himself would be going with them, to lead a
hundred of the Fellowship's original members into bat-
tle.
  Ylang's still sitting tight in Flaigon, Ozain thought,
so we'll take advantage of his inactivity and liberate
another galaxy. Garthane's postponed the initiation of
all the new members of the Fellowship on account of the
Hazard's accident, but if our luck holds a little longer, it
looks as though we won't need them this time out. And a
few months of more training on Palos won't hurt them
any, either.
  His face lit up as he recalled the morning's launching
of the latest wave of probes. The scramblers on those
things are working like a dream, he noted with satisfac-
tion. Not only have we saturated Havanal, but we've
even managed to infiltrate ten galaxies beyond it. As he
entered the conference room, the guards at the door
snapped to attention and presented amlS. Ifwe canjust
stir up the captive populations in half those-star-seas,
the Dark Emperor had better hang on to his throne for
dear life.
  "Gentlemen. Ladies," the Supreme Commander of
the League of Free Worlds said, as he sat down at the
head of the long table, "Havanal awaits us. . . "

  Quaarg saluted smartly, did an about-face, and
marched out of the conference room, followed by the
rest of the Yss on the general staff. Blorg remained in
his seat, watching his brother-reptiloids file out of the
chamber. Deep in thought, he toyed with the reptiloid
skull that sat on the black, micalite surface of the con-
ference table. The thing represented the Devastator's
one concession to sentimentality: it was the skull of the
first higher life-form he had ever killed. Blorg kept it as a
souvenir, a grisly memento of his initiation into the dark
mysteries of death. It was the skull of the Y ssswho had
fathered him.
  There will be a warm welcome in storefor the League
when we swoop down on them after they come out of
hyperspace in Havanal, he soliloquized telepathically.
My Greeban agents have done their work well. This is
the first time I have ever had the precise exit co-
ordinates of an enemy starfleet.
  The lord of the Ysss rose from his chair and, tossing
the skull in the air and catching it in his lower right hand,
strolled out of the conference room. He turned and
walked down the corridor that led to the Great De-
vourer's lair.
  My flotilla will contain only five thousand ships when
we engage the enemy. . . but a thousand of them will be
invincible. We will burn the ships of the League to
ashes, and then scatter those ashes across the void. . .
Ylang's force-field consoles, expensive and difficult to
produce as they are, are certainly worth waiting for.
  The unshielded ships I shall use as decoys, in order to
whet the enemy's appetite for combat. Later in the
engagement, we will interlock our force-fields and go
streaking toward them, butchering the scum until the
stars glow red with the color of blood.
  Haaass-aaass-aaassss! The Blorg spluttered into the
ghastly laughter of the Ysss, rocking from side to side as
he walked. Tomorrow will be such a glorious day, he
gloated, as he entered the lair. Not only will the League
of Free Worlds be dealt a terrible blow, but the Fellow-
ship of Light will suddenly find itself leaderless at the
same time. The doubles aboard the counterfeit Hazard
have been programmed to assassinate that old fool,
Garthane, before the battle is joined. Then my revenge
will be complete. All that will remain to be done after
that is to await the production of more consoles, so we
can go into Taylos and Primula and put an end to these
upstarts once andfor all.
  Blorg was as happy as a humanoid child on its birth-
day. He prostrated himself before his lord and master,
and gave the Dark Emperor the latest details of his
battle-plan. When he arose, the lord of the Ysss was in
such high spirits that he mentally (and unconsciously)
hummed the great death-anthem of Sserp, the one re-
served for the rarest and most dreadful of occasions.
  My son's joy fills the throne-room, the Devourer
boomed. What fine horrors has he planned for the sur-
vivors of tomorrow's battle?
  There should be thousands of prisoners, O Lord of
the Universe, Blorg replied cheerfully, hissing his
snaky chuckle as he did. I propose to bring them all
before you at once and conduct afestival of torment in
your honor. The energies liberated thereby should pro-
vide great Ylang with the finest banquet it has had in
aeons.
  The gluttonous Ylang flashed and burbled with ex-
citement as it anticipated the feast. My lord is so unself-
ish and sharing that he warms my heart. I consider
myself fortunate above all creatures to have a son so
dedicated to the pleasure and well-being of his old
father. The tyrant was in a sentimental mood. Ask any-
thing of me, sweet Blorg -anything at all in the whole
of the starry firmament -and it shall be yours.
  I need nothing else, Father Ylang, the lord of the
Y sss replied, since all good things comefrom your dark
embrace. . . and I have been blessed with that already.
Blorg groped for a further compliment, but it eluded
him. Flowery speech was never one of his strong
points. Suddenly he grew serious, as he thought of a
request. Mighty Ylang, I would ask one small thing of
you: the answer to a question that has been troubling
me for a long time, now.
  And what is that, my son?
  The time when the late Captain Rian . . . (here Blorg
paused to emit a series of hissing chuckles) and the
other humanoid garbage had the temerity to come here
after the late lady Nila . . . how were they able to pass
through Atmospheric Security undetected when they
fled? . . . I know that the old ape, Garthane, used the
Fellowship of Light's powers of mind to slip his vessle in
and out of our air-space unheeded. . . But how was it
possible for the Hazard to escape from here?
 Ylang- Ylang' s plusating mass dimmed slightly while
the star-tyrant thought for a moment, searching the
near-infinite associative nexuses of its vast memory-
banks. The young humanoid, it answered, named Ween
Leever invented an ingenious device known as a
scrambler, which allowed the Hazard to escape detec-
tion.
  How did this device work, great Ylang?
  To put it in the simplest terms, dear Blorg, the device
literally scrambled the input of all scanning equipment
on our vessels and then lost itself, transferring the
Hazard's signals to a range well beyond those picked
up on existing mechanisms.
  Haaass! Blorg recoiled as he remembered the erratic
behavior of the Scourge's readout screens the day he
shot down the Hazard.
  That is how it works in principle,Ylang continued.
For some unknown reason, the young humanoid's mind
blurred the technical details, and] did not have time to
pry them out. . . Sweet Blorg, you are distrubed. What
troubles you?
  Father Ylang, the lord of the Ysss replied,] think that
I must return to Taylos immediately, and make a brief
visit to the waste world known as X-8, Because] am not
  What? Ylang interrupted, glowing like the heart of a
volcano. And miss the great battle?
This is even more important to me, Father Ylang. . .
 

                       Chapter 8
              A Day Of Deadly Surprises


  Cries of On to Havana!! and Free Havana!! went up in
the air of a dozen worlds, as the liberation forces based
in the Taylos galaxy made their way to the spaceports,
where the silver starships waited. The next stage of the
long, hardjoumey to Flaigon had begun. Flags waved in
the breeze, helmets gleamed in the sunlight; armies
marched and crowds cheered; and the great host drawn
from the star-fields of two galaxies held its hopes as high
as its proud banners.
  Insectoid crowds cheered: humming, buzzing, and
droning as the sound of marching bands rose above the
wide boulevards and dinned to the skies. Animaloid
crowds cheered: yowling, howling, and bellowing as
the machines of the ground forces lumbered and rum-
bled on their way to the startransports. Humanoid
crowds cheered: roaring, hollering, and whistling as the
bright armies riled into the starships.
  The League of Free Worlds had never been in better
shape. Volunteers from Taylos swelled it ranks, and the
production of war-materials in Primula surpassed all
forecast and expectations. In addition to this, an enor-
mous amount of Dark Empire atmospheric craft,
weapons, and equipment had fallen to the rebellious
Taylians, and most of it had been converted to serve the
ends of the liberators. .
  Morale was never higher. The myth of imperial invin-
cibility had been shattered, blunting the psychological
edge of the enemy's sword. The Primulans, with many
successful encounters and two galactic victories under
their belts, had become seasoned veterans; and the
Taylians (never a bunch to be called peaceful, even in
the best of times) were up in arms and spoiling for a fight
with anything that wore Ylang-Ylang's colors.
  So off they went: bold, assured, and prepared; armed
with the might of two powerful galaxies, and armored in
the knowledge of the tactics and weaknesses of the
enemy. Confidence hung in the air of those worlds with
a density equal to that of their atmospheres. They were
off and rolling; and the word was out that the slave
legions and the hissing brood who served Ylang had
better run for cover, because the free people of the
allied worlds were on their way to liberate another
galaxy!
  Needless to say, Garthane's words of caution had
about as much effect in the midst of all this tumult as
harp notes in a crescendo at the finale of a symphony.
The High Master had persistently warned the allies that
Ylang was due to make its next move; but, since no one
except Garthane really understood the true nature of
the Dark Emperor, no one took his warnings to heart.
Garthane was still disturbed about the strange incident
concerning the H,azard and all aboard her; and he was
far from certain that Ylang- Ylang could be discounted
so easily. . . 

  The brazen war-trumpets of the Death Legion brayed -
their savage music of death and destruction in tones as
cold and hard as Blorg the Devastator's heart. Jack-
boots pounded on the stones of Kordor, as the grim
force garrisoned there made its way to the spaceport
that had risen to the surface of the black planet. Officers
roared their orders throughout the basalt corridors; and
the MordJing clones, locked securely away in their
vaults, shrieked back at them with the stupefying voices
of a chorus of fiends. Hisses shot through the artificial
atmosphere like arrows from the bow of the god of
vengeance, as the Ysss overlords double-timed their
way through the Forbidden City; and when the mute
reptiloids issued their telepathic commands, the air
rang with the cries of minds as well as voices.
  Alone in its lair, the Great Devourer smouldered
fitfully, pondering the course of future events like an
indecisive god in a long-abandoned temple. Immortality
is no guarantee of sound judgment, and the Dark Em-
peror had its doubts. The latest move in the great galac-
tic game had been a long time coming by the standards
of mortal creatures, but to-an entity that stares out over
the seas of eternity, it was hardly more than the time it
takes to blink an eye. Ylang trafficked in ages and
aeons: millennia were days, centuries hours, and years
mere seconds. Althought the Devourer lived in the
here-and-now, part of it dwelt in the realm of eternity as
well. And if on-the-spot decision concerning important
matters are rarely easy for mortals, imagine the discom-
fort such things are capable of inflicting upon the
superhuman.
  The reek of brimstone permeated the lair as the Lord
of Life and Death sputtered and belched like the belly of
a dying volcano, its nervous system wracked by the
flatulence of indecision. On one hand, the tyrant looked
forward to the Havanal encounter with high anticipa-
tion, anxious to pluck the fruits of its labors and savor
the sweet juices of its confirmed wisdom; on the other,
it felt a constant gnawing inside, as the thousand sharp
teeth of anxiety nibbled away at the magic mushroom of
confidence. Although Ylang regard,ed its imperial de-
signs as a game, the game was far from child's play even
for a being as awesome as itself-and the stakes were
high.
  If the Devourer overplayed its hand, so to speak, all
resistance would crumble immediately; and the spectre
of cosmic boredom that haunted the Dark Emperor's
dreams and whistled behind its throne like a draft
through a crack in the window of eternity would be free
to descend on its brilliance with all the squalor of sunset
over a strip-mine. But if the hand were underplayed,
and the current move proved insufficient to retard the
progress of the enemy, the result would be still another
insult to the imperial presence and an open incitement
to further rebellion,

  The men and starships of the League of Free Worlds
were as nothing to Ylang-mere cannon-fodder and
beasts to be led to the slaughter, but the star-tyrant was
genuinely distrubed when it appraised the role of the
Fellowship of Light. After all, the wee, impudent man-
nikin who led the order had actually violated the sanc-
tity of the lair, and lived to tell the tale-as jabbering
humanoid primates will, the filthy , boastful little beasts!
Garthane's move had been bold and incredibly coura.
geous, the Great Devourer was forced to admit that.
But, on the other hand, his action was also the equiva-
lent of a monkey emptying its bowels on the high altar of
a god. . . and Ylang could not permit such a flagrant act
of disrespect to go unpunished.
  The emperor, by virtue of information received from
Blorg's Taylian agents, knew what the Fellowship of
Light was up to on the surface of things. It knew that
Garthane had recruited furiously, in an attempt to mul-
tiply the effect of the order's powers of mind. It knew
that the great initiation-ceremony had been postponed
when Garthane went back to Yahwoo. And it knew that
the substitution of the doubles and the replicated
Hazard would throw the High Master's timetable even
farther off schedule. . . Knowing all that, Ylang still
worried about Garthane and his fellows.
  Those two hundred old Primulans may have shat-
tered the armada to smithereens, the tyrant thought,
but they'll have to shake down the very walls of the
Infinite before they can penetrate the interlocked
force-fields of my starships! And yet. . .
  BWOA-A-A-A-AAARP! The Devourer belched its
distress, filling the immense stone chamber with swirl-
ing clouds of black and sulphurous smoke. Acid
shock-waves broke over the walls, flaking the living
rock and showering a hail of sparks and ashes on the
floor. Ylang suffered from atomic indigestion as well as
cosmic boredom.
  If a mere two hundred of those old monkeys could
summon up a tidal wave from the dark heart of the
Infinite itself, the ruler of the Dark Empire thought
nervously, what would ten or twenty times their number
be capable of doing?
  Thunder reverberated throughout the vast chamber
and the air crackled and flashed like a thousand high-
tension cables shorting-out, as the tyrant felt the first
twinge of fear it had known in untold ages, an emotion
as rare among immortals as teeth in the mouth of birds.
Mortals believe that gods make their own luck; but
Ylang, devoted gambler and student of the strange and
mysterious ways of the Infinite, knew better. The old
Mordling proverb summed up his feeling on the matter:
He who pins his hopes on luck often winds up with the
point through his heart.
  Ylang- Ylang was afraid. . . and it enjoyed the feeling
thoroughly. And as fear ate its way into the Devourer's     
soul, Ylang exploded into a mushroom-cloud of ec-
stasy.
  BAR-R-R-ROOOO-OOO-OOOOM! Ylang's great
anxiety-explosion blew down the bronze doors of the
lair and halted all preparation for war in the Forbidden
City. Every living thing in Kordor was knocked to the
ground by the blast. And not a soul rose after it had
passed, so sure were the inhabitants that Doomsday
had corne. Even the dreadful Mordlings stopped howl-
ing milli-seconds before they fell flat on their faces,
thumping and bumping on the stone floors, smacking
the ground with the sound of a barrel of dropped
whales. Humanoids stopped breathing. Animaloids
stopped breathing. Insectoids stopped breathing. Even
the Yss stopped hissing.
  Finally, boiling with annoyance like a crucible of 
radioactive isotopes, the Dark Emperor itself had to
order the frightened souls of Kordor back to work.
Silence fell like a shroud over the dead face of the
Forbidden City as the trembling legions resumed their
activities. The Ysss hissed as softly as new-born
snakelets; and for once the horrendous Mordlings
choked back their interminable nightmare screams. The
center of the Dark Empire grew as quiet as the con.
science of a robot.
  Even the star-tyrant was quiet, startled into silence
by the ferocious combustion of its ecstasies. It was
several minutes before the Devourer dared to resume
the flow of its thoughts.
  How delightful! How horrible! How incredibly satis-
fying! Ylang thought. Such a cosmic sensation! . . . I
know of nothing to compare with it-murder, torture,
domination, conquest. Ylang howled with rapture. 
  When the after-effects of Its ecstasy had evaporated,
Ylang returned to the problem at hand. What if the
Fellowship of Light is not crushed this time? What if
those overweening little lumps of excrement actually
manage to come to Flaigon once again? As far as I
know -as far as I can tell-I am immortal. I ndestruc-
tible . . . But what if -just what if-those mewling,
puking little gobs of corruption could. . . hurt me?
What if they could? . . . I forget what pain is like, but I
remember that I never cared for it at all!
  Quaarg! Quaarg! Come here-immediately! the De-
vourer called frantically, regretting that Blorg had just
departed on his anxious mission to X-8. But Quaarg
would do. The young reptiloid had recently caught the
emperor's attention, and impressed it with a glimpse of
his potential. Quaarg represented the new breed. He
was taller (the young ones all seemed taller to the em-
peror these days), bolder, stronger, faster, and sharper
of mind than the older Ysss. He was a new twig on the
branch of the reptiloids' accelerated evolution. Quaarg
was worth watching, worth developing. Of course, if
Blorg ever got wind of the youngling's potential, that
twig would be snapped in two abruptly. But Blorg
wouldn't last forever. And when he began to show signs
of slowing down. . . Well, there is no such thing as an
old Ysss. So . . .
  Shuddering like gelatin on a vibrator-belt, all four
hands covering his visored face, Quaarg stumbled has-
tily into the lair and fell prostrate before his lord and
master. Absent-mindedly, Ylang realized why the
young reptiloid had come into the throneroom unan-
nounced; all of the mind-raped heralds who stood
directly outside in the antechamber were buried be-
neath the great bronze doors, blown down in the throes
of Ylang's ecstasy. But that was not important; there
were more where they came from.
  My master summons and his servant attends, Quaarg
telepathed timidly, his brainwaves wobbling like a hal-'
lucination on an oscilloscope.
  Yes, my boy, the Devourer answered gently, by-
passing the pleasures of intimidation for the reassur-
ance of clarity. I desire you to perform a little errandfor
me.
  Master, ask the impossible-ask the unthinkable-
and I will do it gladly! For mighty Ylang, I would enter
into the jaws of Death himself. . . and return with his
grinding teeth.
  That's another thing, the Devourer thought pri-
vately. This youngling has the gift of eloquence. Had
Blorg attempted lines like those, he would have strang-
led to death on his own tongue. And Quaarg has a wit as
sharp and sure as an executioner's blade. That is some-
thing that Blorg never possessed.
  Yes, sweet Quaarg, the Devourer purred mellowly,
flicking out a dark tendril from the lower part of its mass
and tickling the soles of the prostrate reptiloid's feet
with a teaser of unholy ecstasy. Quaarg shivered uncon-
trollably, his body-armor rapping on the stones like the
drum-roll that accompanies a march to the gallows.
Ylang knew how to motivate its employees when it
chose to.
  Here is what I wish you to do, my little night-crawler

  A star-burst exploded in Quaarg's mind and melted
over the corridors of his consciousness with the sticky
and cloying sweetness of a bomb made of candy. Im-
ages flashed onto the screen of his setience, and Ylang
was the projector.
  He saw the vast realms of the Dark Empire-starting
with the central point of Flaigon and the Morde galaxy
telescope out and dissolve into different galactic seg-
ments, as the mental star-chart shifted its co-ordinates
before his mind's eye. Each realm was marked by an
overlay of shadow and the spiked-star insignia, both
designations of imperial ownership. All the star-seas
Quaarg viewed were marked in this fashion but one. . .
and that was the one that suddenly zoomed into sharp
focus in his mind.
  See this place, sweet Quaarg? That is where you shall
go . . . to deliver a little message for your father.
  Holy Ylang, Quaarg blurted out telepathically, with
the impulsiveness of youth, this galaxy sits like a lone
island in the otherwise unbroken sea of your pos-
sessions. It does not bear your stamp. Why does it
remain free, my lord?
  You are quick in your perceptions, youngling, Ylang
replied admiringly, and your talents do not pass un-
noticed. But that is more rhan you need to know at
present. It is not relevant to your mission, so lct your
attention be directed elsewhere.
  I am the incarnation of Ylang's will, Quaarg replied
humbly, impressing the tyrant with his attention to
court etiquette.
  That is good, my child. Very good. You will go to the
place you have just seen and address the beings to
whom I send the message I am about to imprint upon
your consciousness.

  The Hazard, or rather the replica of that good ship
counterfeited by Ylang- Ylang's arts, was the first craft
to lift off from Yahwoo as Operation Havanal began.
Commander Ozain had granted this signal honor to the
heroes of Primula in the interests of morale and liaison
as the expedition lifted-off from a dozen worlds in
Taylos. After all, Rian and his crew were all Taylians,
and to represent the galaxy ofPrimula, Garthane, Dann
  Oryzon, and the lady Nila of Aurea Solis were present
as well. The joint-strategy of the League and the Fel-
lowship was about to be implemented for the third time,
as the bright ships took to the air. Watching the Hazard
streak off, Supreme Commander Ozain and Brother
Camenarpo, Garthane's second-in-command, nodded
to each other and smiled.
  "Two minutes to hyperspace entry," a computer-
voice intoned monotonously throughout the Hazard.
Garthane sat beside Dann, his features composed in
their accustomed expression of serenity. Red Rian
leaned back in the pilot's seat and looked over his
shoulder at the High Master.
  "No trance this time, Garthane?" he asked. "Think
we're gonna take HavanaI that easily?"
  Garthane stared at Rian, ahaIf-smile on his lips. "The
trance will come later, Captain Rian." He noticed that
Purpur darted a surprise look at him. Nila swivelled
around in her seat to fact him, and Dann turned as well.
  Rian left the controls to the felinoid, and spun his
chair around in Garthane's direction. "That's too bad,"
he said, a strange, faraway look coming into his eyes.
  "Somewhat unexpected," Nila added. Garthane
turned to look at her, and saw the same cold look in her
eyes. He looked into his son's eyes.
  "We hadn't planned on that," Dann told him, his
eyes now as empty as those of his companions.
  "I don't understand," Garthanereplied. "What does
my entering into a mind-lock have to do with your. . .
plans?" As he said this, Dann smiled a smile as cold and
cruel as a shipwreck in an arctic sea.
  "Because, Garthane," Red Rian answered, "It
would have been much simpler to ice you in that state."
The High Master saw the pirate's hand move at his side,
and when he looked down he was staring into the black
mouth of a zapper.
  He glanced at the others, and saw the same grim
sight.
  "What are you going to do?" he asked, in level,
measured tones.
  His eyes as cold as the grave, Red Rian grinned the
most evil grin that Garthane had ever seen. "We're
going to kill you. . . ""Commander Ozain," the co-
pilot shouted in the League's flagship, "Look at the
screens! We're losing contact with Captain Rian' s ship!

  BOO-WHOOO-O-OOOSH! The Scourge's outer-
plating flared like an incendiary-rocket as the starship
burst into the atmosphere of X-8 at maximum entry
speed. Scramber! Scramber! The word rang out and
repeated over and over in Blorg's mind like a shout in an
echo-chamber. Damn the light, damn the day! Blorg
swore, hissing with anxiety as he activated the long-
range scanners. Rian was space-scum and a hairy,
humanoid ape, but he was no fool. What if he did
activate the device that had once enabled him to slip
through the massive security force that guarded
Flaigon? What if he had been able to simulate that great
explosion and crash-land on X-8? What if he and Nila
and Dann Oryzon and all the others were still alive?
  Womp! Blorg smashed his black-gloved fist down on
the control console, causing the reptiloid who sat beside
him to straighten up like a shot. The Devastator had just
given the order to activate the metal-detectors when his
co-pilot spoke up.
  Two starships approaching, my lord. They just
lifted-offfrom X-8, and are headed right for us.
  Haaass! Could one of them be the Hazard? Blorg
doubted it. It had been days since he shot the starship
down, and if Rian had been at all able, he would have
long since limped back to League Headquarters on
Yahwoo. But Blorg's Taylian spies had reported no-
thing of the sort. Only the cloned doubles were there,
having been "rescued" when the counterfeit Hazard
was spotted.
  And they should have completed their mission afew
minutes ago, the lord of the Ysss thought, shortly after
the invasion force left for Havanal. That old fool,
Garthane, should be dead by now. . .
  Blorg watched the two blips enter the grid of the
naviscren. Activate I.D. scanner, he ordered, and give
me the details on those two ships.
  The co-pilot nodded and depressed a series of keys on
the console. An amber flash lit up one of the screens
before him as the identity read-outs appeared on the
lines of its grid.
  Blorg leaned over and depressed the keys that activ-
ated the Scourge's force-field. He looked out the front
window-panel and watched as the silver nimbus, faint
now in the harsh light of X-8's glaring sun, began to
spread over the bow of his starship. He didn't know
who the intruders were, but he intended to waste little
time disposing of them.
  The lord of the Yss felt the cold thoughts of his
co-pilot slither into his mind. Two ships-of-the-line, my
lord. Of old Taylian make, from sector nine of that
galaxy. Well-armed and well-shielded. Probably of
Valsing manufacture.
  Womp! Blorg's fist slammed down on the console
again. Valsings! he thought, in a fit of annoyance. How
in the name of the pit can those be Valsing ships? he
barked mentally. I destroyed them all when I irradiated
their homeworld. This made him think of the order he
gave to irradiate Urgel . . . Red Rian's homeworld.
  That is positive identification, Lord Blorg, the co-
pilot informed him. The two blips had almost reached
the center of the screen.
  Decelerate to Mach one-point-five, Blorg ordered.
He switched on the Scourge's intercom and transmitted
his thoughts. Stand by, all hands. Enemy approaching
off the starboard bow. I don't have time to play with
these fools, so hit them with everything you've got.
Once they have been destroyed, we will go down to X-8

  From the edge pf the clearing, Red Rian watched the
Scourge blow the first Valsing ship out of the sky. He
scowled as he turned to face Ordlar. "Damn it! I told
you not to engage that ship. That's Blorg, all right, and
he's come back looking for the Hazard."
  The burly Valsing tugged at his beard, deep in
thought. "Zeif!" he called out, suddenly raising his
head. His wife emerged from the Hazard and ran to his
side. "Here is what we must do, Zeif Ysss-killer,
Ordlarsaid. "This is a rare chance to avenge our people
and settle the blood-debt in full. Blorg is up there. He
has come to pay Red-beard a little visit. He shall find
him." The Valsing grinned wickedly. "And you shall
find him, my love. . . and send him on a one-way trip to
the depths."
  Zeifs pale blue eyes glittered like ice floes in the
sunlight; she nodded and smiled the bloodthirsty smile
of the Valsings.
  "You will take a quarter of the crew," Ordlar told
her, and prepare a fitting welcome for the scaly beast."
Rian noticed that Zeif was breathing heavily; it looked
as if she were becoming physically aroused by the
thought of blood. "I will take the others," Ordlar went
on, "and, using the boy's scrambler-device, escape
from Azitlin." Zeifnodded again, still smiling that cruel
smile.
  "And then I will make my last voyage. . . to
Flaigon," Ordlar told her. "Where I will bring the Dark
Emperor's walls down on his head."
  Oh, brother, Rian thought, shaking his head. Are you
in for a surprise!
  Ordlar turned away from Zeif and pointed a finger up
at Purpur. "And you-Tenoxatli ," he growled, sneer-
ing the Valsings' highly-developed sneer of contempt.
"You must excuse me if I beg off from our schedule
engagement, but I have more pressing business.
Perhaps in another life. . . "
  Tenoxatli snarled at him. But he, too, had other fish
to fry. Rian sighed with relief. Facing Blorg is bad
enough, he thought, without having to waste precious
time disposing of this death-oriented goon.
  Ordlar turned to his wife and hugged her. Then they
kissed as tenderly as young lovers. And when they had
parted from their embrace, Ordlar said, "We will meet,
on the other side of the stars."
  Humanoid nature is the damnedest thing, Rian
philosophized. It even allows butchers to get romantic
every now and then.
  Ordlar turned to Rian and held out his hand. The two
men clasped forearms, Valsing-style. "You're on your
own, Red-beard. Go back and liberate Havanal after
Zeifpresents you with a snake-skin."
  Not if I see Blorg first, Rian thought, grinning at the
couple. "Good luck, kids," he said, as they hurried off.
"And good hunting!"
  "Death will work overtime this day," Zeif yelled
back over her shoulder. just before she and Ordlar
ducked into the Valsing ship. Overhead, the Scourge
sent the second ship down in flames.
  Rian grabbed Purpur's arm and pulled him in the
direction of the Hazard. "Wow," he said. "You'dthink
those two were getting set to go to a birthday banquet."
Purpur growled at the thought of Ordlar, and shook his
leonine mane. "Save it for old bonehead,"Rian told
him as they entered the Hazard.
  "Ween! Ween Leever!" Rian bellowed, as soon as he
was inside the ship. Ween's frizzy blond head popped-
up from behind the control-console. "Weenie-boy,"
the pirate said, "how soon can you ~et us shipshape?"

  Blorg watched the blip that represented Ordlar's ship
enter the screen. His four fists thundered down on the
console with the sound of a demented storm-god's
drum. Damn it! How many of them must I blast out of
the skies before I can land this stinking ship? They must
be using theftlthy place as a hide-out. The delay had put
the Devastator in a foul mood.
  That's the last scanner reading I get, Lord Blorg, the
co-pilot replied.
  What about the detectors?
  Two possibles, but I'm not even sure they're s.tar-
ships. Could be ore-formations or slag-heaps. It's hard
to say.
  One of them may be an ore formation, the lord of the
Ysss replied. But the other one'has to be the Hazard-
I'm sure of that! He studied the blip on the screen
before him. Prepare to engage! He leaned over and
squinted into the master-gunsight for the bow-section
and lined up the enemy in its cross-hairs.
  Haaa-aa-aaass! Suddenly the electronic image dis-
appeared. The read-outs are going haywire! the co-pilot
exclaimed, his thought-voice strident in Blorg's mind.
  Scramblers! Scramblers! The lord of the Ysss hissed
like a three-G cooker. There's only one ship they could
have got a scrambler from-the Hazard's got to be
down there!
  Maybe the Valsings killed Rian, the co-pilot ven-
tured, and all that's left down there are his bones. .
Well, I want them for my walls! Blorg shouted tele-
pathically, slapping the co-pilot on the side of his hel-
met. And I'll drink my wine out of his skull tonight, if
that's the case. Take us down-now!

  "The Hazard's gone, sir," Ozain's co-pilot told him.
"Captain Rianjust scrambled and took off. I've lost all
trace of the ship."
  Ozain bent over and cupped his head in his hands.
Here we are, he thought, on our way to liberate an
occupied galaxy and all of a sudden the Hazard disap-
pears taking Rian and Garthane with it, at the time we
need them most.
  He tumedto the man with the face of a serene hawk.
"Camenarpo," he growled, in a deep voice that rasped
like sandpaper on the bottom of a barrel, "What the hell
is going on here?"

  Flying low over the stone pyramids, the Scourge
opened fire with its laser-cannon, blasting the priests off
the high alters and scattering the crowds on the ground
below. Blorg stared at the forward vidscreen and
watched the panic-stricken inhabitants of Azitlin bolt
for the cover of the rain forest.
  I've spotted a ship, the co-pilot told him, and it looks
like the Hazard, my lord. Over there, off to the side of
the pyramids.
  Haaass! Blorg sat up in his seat. Take her down now,
he ordered. Touch down at the opposite end of that row
of pyramids. We're going hunting. . . "
  Quaarg paced the quarter-deck on his starship, the
Malice, driven by a metabolism accelerated by the elec-
tricty of ambition. He ducked through the hatch on his
left, and turned to enter his cabin. Once inside, he,
walked over to the far wall and stood before a large,
black locker. Its door swung open when Quaarg inter-
rupted its photo-beam lock with a wave of his hand. A
large lumi-mirror on the inside of the door activiated
and Quaarg stepped back to admire himself in it, all four
arms akimbo as he struck a haughty pose.
  Taller than Blorg, he thought. Handsomer than
Blorg. Trimmer than Blorg. Younger-much
younger-than Blorg. He studied his reflection for a
moment, then saluted smartly and bowed. When he
straightened up, Quaarg was hissing with satisfaction.
He was much impressed with himself, and fully aware
as his ship sped toward the mysterious galaxy of the
signal honor accorded him by the Dark Emperor. It
meant that Ylang was grooming him to be Blorg's even-
tual successor. . . the new lord of all the Y sss.
  Quaarg shivered as he recalled the dark whisper of
ecstasy Ylang had touched him with back in the lair. He
looked forward eagerly to the murderous delirium that
would one day be his by right. It would take some time
before it was his, but he could wait. Reptiloids were
very good at waiting.
  However, if Blorg realized what Ylang had in mind,
he would never rest until his rival was out of the way.
But I am under the Devourer's protection, Quaarg
thought confidently, and Blorg will not find out. . .
until it is too late.
  The future looked bright. Quaarg was so happy at that
moment he could have drunk cold blood instead of
warming it in the proper Y sss fashion.
  But one thing puzzled the young reptiloid: Why was
Ylang- Ylang so secretive concerning the unknown be-
ings who ruled the strange galaxy? How did they ever
remain free-a lone island in the vast sea of imperial
domination? And what was the Great Devourer's rela-
tionship to these mysterious entities?
  No sense worrying about that, now, Quaarg thought.
I'll have more input soon enough. He raised his lower
left arm and looked at the intergalactic metrochronome-
ter on his wrist, the pressure of his attention illuminat-
ing the read-outs on its face. Hmmm. It won't be long
before our star fleet engages the ships of the League on
the rim of Havanal. . .

  After the first wave of Death Legion commandos had
debarked and formed a defense perimeter around the
ship, Blorg thundered down the Scourge's flexiladder.
In his upper hands he held a high-gamma laser-rifle of
magnum caliber; holstered at his sides were two huge
zappers, safeties off and set at maxi-blast. He paced
back and forth impatiently as the rest of his party filed
out of the ship and formed into ranks on the edge of the
clearing. His eyes travelled over the long row of stone
pyramids that stretched out before him. There was no
sign of activity whatsoever. He turned around and
peered into the thick underbrush of the rain forest.
From a reptiloid' s point of view, it was a good place to
go hunting.
  All present and accountedfor, my lord, the Y sss who
was his second-in-command told him. Blorg turned and
surveyed the ranks. Five hundred Death Legion com-
mandos, mostly animaloid and insectoid, and five Ysss
officers: more than sufficient to hunt down Rian and his-
companions. He anticipated no difficulty whatever in
dealing with the runty humanoid savages who inhabited
the straw huts and primitive masonry buildings that
stood behind the far end of the row of pyramids.
  The ones we miss on the ground, he thought, I will
order wiped out from the air. Two low-yield missiles-
the dirty ones with theftfty-year half-Life-should do
the job nicely.
  He sniffed the air like someone inhaling the perfume
of a familiar and well-loved flower. Blorg identified the
scent that had caught his attention as the reek of
blood-humanoid blood. He was beginning to feel at
home on X-So Perhaps I won't destroy this crude cul-
ture. Then I could return, and do some hunting. The
place might turn out to be a veritable paradise.
  Blorg turned away from the troops and activated the
infrared scanner he held in his lower right hand, sweep-
ing the green wall of foliage at the edge of the clearing.
As the scanner swept an area to the right, the device
crackled excitedly, indicating the presence of a concen-
trated number of life-forms.
  Blorg handed the device to the scanner-tech at his
side as the other Ysss activated their scanners. Scouts
out! he commanded. We'll start in there. . .


                     Chapter 9
               A Great Battle Lost


  "Greetings to all the races of this galaxy, from the
League of Free Worlds and the Fellowship of Light. We
bring glad tidings to the subject peoples of the Dark
Empire. The great armada that entered Primula has
been utterly destroyed; and the galaxy of Taylos has
already been liberated. Rise up andjoin us! Rise up and
throw off the chains of your slavery!
  "The oppressor can be overthrown! Stand together, 
and your numbers are great " the occupation forces are
small in comparison to the populations they control.
The Dark Empire can be dlfeated-we have already
proved that. Rise up and join us . . . freedom await
you!"
  The pre-recorded message played over and over as
the probe streaked through the atmosphere of its
target-world. Undetectable by virtue of its scrambler,
the silver dart sped on, overlaying its signal on the
frequencies of all active communications systems.
  On the surface below, imperial technicians sweated
and cursed as they vainly attempted to jam the trans- 
mission of the phantom message. Squadrons of black
fighters buzzed through the air like angry hornets, their
pilots shaking their heads in frustration each time they
glanced at the empty screens on the instrument panel.
Cruisers and destroyers swung in orbit outside the at-
mosphere, the batlled technicians within them having
no more success in locating the origin of the seditious
message than their fellows on the ground.
  In the captive cities, black-uniformed troops hefted
their rifles nervously and darted anxious glances at the
startled, listening crowds. Communications officers
tore their hair and bawled out their subordinates, un-
able to filter out the inflammatory incitement and un-
willing to suspend communications with the other sta-
tions in the intraplanetary network.
  Panic and confusion settled like a cloud of poison gas
on the bases of the Dark Empire in ten great galaxies

  "The readings indicate that subjects are scattering
and retreating, my Lord," the scanner-tech informed
the lord of the Y sss as the Death Legion commandos
advanced through the underbrush of the rain forest,
using de-vitalizer beams to wither the choked and tang-
led vegetation that impeded their progress.
  Quadrant formation! the Dark Emperor's favorite
ordered. Maintain pursuit of the fugitives in your re-
spective sectors. Fire on sight, and shoot to kill. If any
of you sight Red Rian and his companions, I want to be
notified immediately.
  Blorg watched the troops in front of him fan out like a
cloud of black locusts. The deeper they went into the
jungle, the darker it became, as the trees that towered
above them grew together ever more densely, blocking
out the light of the sun. This posed no problem for a
reptiloid like Blorg, who could see equally well In bright
sunlight or dim caves, but the other soldiers were find-
ing it increasingly difficult to distinguish the objects that
lay ahead of them.
  Yaaa-a-a-aaah! Screams rang out on the Devas-
tator's left, and were answered by a tumult of shrieks,
roars, and chatters, as the animals of the rainforest set
up a chorus of fright and defiance. Blorg made his way
up to the source of the disturbance, slithering between
trees and lianas as noiselessly as a snake.
  Haaass! He was unprepared for what he saw. A score
of the commandos had blundered into a huge pit that
had been camouflaged after it was dug in the ground;
they all lay writhing and screaming at its bottom, im-
paled on wooden stakes whose sharpened points were
covered with their blood. Blorg hissed his annoyance at
the thought of having to contend with the savages who
inhabited the rain forest.
  Thoop: Thoop: A shower of arrows rained down on
the expedition. Clawing at the shafts that protruded
from their necks and bodies, uttering shrill, gurgling
cries, more than forty of the commandos fell to the
ground. The others milled around in confusion, squint-
ing into the darkness, hoping for a glimpse of the hidden
enemy.
  "They're up in the trees !" the scanner-tech shouted,
just as the unseen bows thrummed again in the upper
register of death. Blong ! A flint arrowhead bounced off
the Devastator's breastplate, its impact sending him
back against the bole of a huge tree.
Open fire! he bellowed telepathically. Whaang!
Whaang! Whang! Laser-beams lit up the gloom as the
commandos sprayed their fire overhead. Aaaaah!
Humanoid screams resounded throughout the area, and
the men of Azitlin dropped from the trees like fruit
scorched by a lightning bolt.
  The scanner-techs called out directions and the lasers
flared and whined again, igniting the trees with their
fiery touch. Sheets of flame leaped to the sky, and the
dark surroundings grew as bright as noon on the ocean.
Kill them all-every one of them ~ Blorg ordered. And
the lasers whined their death-song until all traces 'Of'
activity disappeared from the scanner screens.
  The lord of the Y sss surveyed the area, his one-way
visor reflecting the light of the bright, flickering fire.
After reckoning his dead, he studied the scorched re-
mains of the Azitlini. Damn little pests! he swore. Over
a hundred of my troops dead, and not a trace of Rian
yet.
  "All clear, Lord Blorg," the scanner-tech advised
him. "Enemy presence in the vicinity is nil."
  The Devastator nodded. Those tree-climbing runts
will pay dearly for this, he vowed. I'll come back here
and irradiate the whole, stinking planet.
  Back to the clearing, he ordered.

  "They're coming out of hyperspace, Admiral-and
right on target!"
  In the control-center of the imperial flagship, Car-
nage, Admiral Venaam hissed with satisfaction and
turned to the navi-screen, where he saw the blip-
clusters that represented the star-fleet of the League of
Free Worlds appear and head toward the center of the
grid overlay. He leaned over the console and switched
on the intrafleet communicator.
  Attention all ships of the first wave. Prepare to en-
gage the enemy. Open fire at a range of one-two-five-
repeat: one-two-fiver telemikrons. Hold your fire until
then. That is all.
  Stand by, Venaam ordered the Ysss at the controls of
the force-field console;
  Although he knew that Ylang's new force-field would
nrotect his shin and the others that constituted the
rear-guard of the flotilla, the High Admiral of the Ha-
vanal space navy was nervous. The enemy out num-
bered him by a ratio of three to one, and this fact made
the reptiloid uneasy on an instinctive level. Dark Em-
pire tactics in space were relatively simple, those of the
juggernaut: swamp and destroy. It was the first time in
his entire career as a star-fighter that the Admiral had
ever been on the short end of the odds, and it made him
uncomfortable, But he was not afraid; the Ysss fear
onlv one thing in life. . . Ylanp- Ylanp.
  "Effective range four-seven-five telemikrons,"
intoned the computer voice.
  Venaam glanced at the navi-screen again. This will be
a great victory, he thought. The League's liberation
force will be devastated. and half the existing members
of the Fellowship of Light will be wiped-out.
  "Effective range four-seven-five telemikrons," into-
ned the computer voice.
  It is well that Blorg is not with the fleet as we enter the
engagement, the admiral thought, screening his
thoughts from the other Y sss in the control-center. This
way, the full credit for the victory will go to me. I shall
be the hero of the day. And someday I shall be trans-
ferred to the emperor's court as Kordor. Blorg will not
live forever. I shall see to that. . .
  "Effective range four-five-oh telemikrons."
  One day I shall become lord of all the Ysss, qnd share
Ylang's unspeakable ecstasies. . .

  "Enemy force approaching at three-seven five tele-
mikrons," a computor-voice droned over the speakers
of Supreme Commander Ozain's flagship, the Aurea
Solis.
  Ozain leaned over the control-console and activated
the communicator. "Attention all starships. Prepare to
engage the enemy. All forward ships into wedge forma-
tion. Fire at will when optimum range is achieved. All
flanking and rear-guard ships to stand by. That is all."
  Stroking his bald head, he leaned back and studied
the navi-screen. What the hell could have happened to
Rian and Garthane? he wondered to himself. How
could they disappear like that, right at the outset of the
invasion of Havanal? He brought his hand up to his
mouth and started gnawing on his thumbnail a sure sign
that he was disturbed.
  A moment later, he removed his hand from his mouth
and turned to the gaunt, hawk-faced man who sat beside
him. "Camenarpo," he said gently. "Why did Rian and
Garthane disappear just before we went intp
hyperspace?"
  "Enemy force at three-oh-oh telemikrons," the
computer-voice interrupted.
  "I don't know yet, Commander," Brother
Camenarpo replied softly. "Garthane must have had an
idea at the last moment."
  "I certainly hope so," Ozain said, wiping away the
droplets of sweat the had begun to form on his upper lip.
"Something's going on. . . and it worries me."

  "Lord Blorg, I've picked up something big on the
metal detector!" the technician informed the Devas-
tator, as the commandos emerged from the rain forest.
"Over there-behind that pyramid."
  Haaass! Blorg smiled behind his visor as he studied
the screen of the detector. A mass of metal that large
could only be a starship.
  Split up into two column Qf equal size, he ordered.
Go between these two pyramids, and then spread out
and encircle the object at a distance of one hundred
yards.
  As the commandos split up ipto two detachments,
Blorg held his rifle to one side and loosened the Zappers
in their holsters. In his mind's eye, the lord of the Ysss
saw himself mounting a new batch of skulls on the walls
of his apartments in Kordor.
  He watched the black-uniformed soldiers file around
the sides of the pyramid and head toward the clearing
beyond. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the
jungle blazing where the lasers had sprayed their be-
ams. Roaring tongues of flame hissed and spat at the
skies, licking the topmost branches of the trees, crumbl-
ing green foliage into black ash. All around the clearing,
Blorg heard the creatures of the rain forest raise their
voices in a cacophany of panic as the fire, faJ)ned by a
rising wind, consumed everything that stood in its path.
  The lord of the Ysss was so intent on spotting his prey
that he barely noticed the stepped walls of the pyramids
that towered above him on both sides. In fact, every
soul in the expedition was so intent on spotting the
fugitives that'not a single one of them realized that they
were being observed from the pyramids.
  Suddenly, Blorg heard a voice-a woman's
voice-cry out above him. And then, fifty voices re-
sponded with the same cry. Blorg gasped as the image
of an irradiated world flashed onto the screen of his
mind, and he realized that the ferocious cry was the
war-whoop of the Valsings!
  Whaang! Whaang! Whaang! The area lit up as laser-
bolts lanced down from the sides of the flanking
pyramids like a concentration of lightning, scorching
the hard-packed earth and the soldiers who stood upon
it. Trapped in the withering cross-fire, Blorg threw him-
self to the ground and crawled for the safety of a ledge
that jutted out from the wall nearest to him. As the
searing beams rained J,own all around him, Blorg rolled
under the ledge and slammed into the base of the stone
wall that stood three feet within its shadow, knocking
the breath out of his body for an instant. )
  When he got his breath back, the lord of the Y sss
crawled to the edge of the shadow and looked up at the
pyramid across the way: A group of Valsings hung over
its stepped sides, blasting away like maniacs at the
trapped commandos who crouched on the open ground
and frantically returned their fire.
  Blorg cursed the Valsings in his thoughts as he lined
one of them up in his gunsight. Whaang! The rifle
whined and the bolt darted upward; a moment later, a
smoking body dropped to the earth with a thud that
could barely be heard above the sounds of combat.
Whaang! Whaang! Blorg fired again, and blew another
Valsing off the ledge in the hail of flying stone.
  Whaang! Whaang! Whaang! The Valsings spotted
him and returned his fire. A blast of sweltering energy
blew him back into the shadows and slammed him
against the wall, the varnish on his smoking body-armor
flaking into ashes.
  Casting his melted rifle aside and beating out the
flames that blazed on his gloves, Blorg reached for his
zappers. His troops were falling on all sides, littering
the ground with their charred bodies, half of them al-
ready out of action. A few moments more, and they'd
be totally decimated. He crawled back to his former 
position and started to blaze away at the Valsings.
  BOOM! BOOM! Two great explosions shook the
ground. Blorg looked up and saw, to his surprise-that
there were no more Valzings on the side of the oposite
pyramid. Great sections of the walls had been blown
away. Blorg rejoiced in his fierce heart as he realized
what had happened: someone had brought the homing-
robots up from the Scourge!
  A series of explosions shook the area, and Blorg saw
chunks of stone sail through the air as the pyramid
above him trembled violently. Cautiously, he stuck his
head out of the shadows and looked in the direction of
the Scourge, where he could see the squat robots ad-
vancing slowly on their rollers, bending forward period-
ically to launch another volley of missiles.
  Then Blorg heard the braczen war-trumpets sound the
all-clear. He scrambled out of his hiding-place and got
to his feet. After that, the reptiloid looked around and
surveyed the scene.
  Smoke covered the area, issuing from the ground at
the pitted sides of the pyramids. The dead lay sprawled
allover the packed earth, frozen in ghastly poses,
smoking and crackling from the small fires that still
smouldered on their bodies. Helmets had been melted
to slag; armor ran to the ground in steaming rivulets;
burnt flesh sizzled on blackened bones. The hand of
death had the place in its grip, and its touch was as hot
as a thermal-poker.
  Have the Valsings been totally annihilated? Blorg
asked.
  "I picked up traces in that direction, my lord," the
animaloid tech replied, nodding to the right as he
brushed the ashes off the face of his scanner. "Two or
three of them must have escaped. No more than that.
They must have headed for the jungle."
  Or the Hazard, Blorg thought, as he gave the signal to
advance.
  Once out of the smoking alley between the pyramids,
Blorg turned in the direction of the object on the metal-
detector. He saw two more pyramids before him, on a
line with the one he had just left. Beyond them he saw a
starship, the plating on its hull gleaming with the flush of
the setting sun, glowing like a smouldering fire on the
hard brown earth. It was the Hazard!
  Blorg turned to the non-com on his left, and took the
insectoid's laser-rifle. He checked its setting,and then
gave the signal to advance. . .

  All hell broke loose on the rim of the Havana! galaxy
as the starships of the Dark Empire and the League of
Free Worlds lasers blazing, torpedos streaking, reac-
tors roaring, met head-on in a life-and-death collision.
  In the control-center of the Aurea Solis, Commander
Ozain watched the screens on the console with grim
satisfaction. Thanks to Rian's hit-and-run tactics,
Ween's beefing-up of the weaponry, and the dare-devil
brilliance of their pilots, the bri~ht ships were slicin~
through the first wave of enemy ships like a microwave
blade entering a piece of soft, Malian cheese.
  Smaller than their adversaries, but heavily-
weaponed and shielded for their size, the League's
starships darted in and out of the line of black be-
hemoths, inflicting heavy damage and sustaining light
losses. The void was ablaze with the light of lasers,
torpedo trails and multi-megation explosions; the spec-
tacle looked like Death's own light-show. Beams
shook, decks heaved and defense-screens buckled, as
the two spacefleets contended for the title to Havana!.
  This is going to be easier than I ever imagined, Ozain
thought, as he watched the decimation of the imperial
forces. Looks like we've caught Ylang- Ylang off-guard
again. There's just one thing that doesn't jibe: What-
ever gave them the nerve to engage us when we out-
numbered them three-to-one? He was shortly to dis-
cover the answer to that question.
  Admiral Venaam stared with lidless eyes at the
screens on the Carnage's control-sonsole, and cursed
his star-pilots and their lumbering vessels. The enemy
was out-fighting and out-maneuvering his starships.
The first wave Qf his attack-force was almost totally
demolished.
  How did they ever manage to rig-out craft as lilfht as
those with such heavy shielding and weaponry? he
soliloquized irritably. There must be a few geniuses in
the League's tech-dromes. I wish we had just one.!.,.
then we wouldn't have to lose so damned many
starships.
  Venaam' s stem expression bnghtened beneath hiS
one-way visor. Ah, but we do! Emperor Yland has seen
fit to bless us with the bounty ofMordling superscience.
And it is time to activate the force-fields!
  He turned away from the screens and activated the
communicator. This is Admiral Venaam, speaking to
all ships-of-the-line equipped with force-field consoles.
Stand by to activate. . . .
  "Carmenarpo-d'you see that silver glow encircling
those ships to the rear?" Ozain asked. The hawk-faced
man beside him nodded. "Ever see anything like it
before?" Camenarpo shook his head. "What in the
name of the infinite can it be?" the commander went on,
rubbing his shining dome as he stared at the forward
screens. "I don't know," Garthane's second-in-
command replied. "But I expect we shall find out soon
enough."
  Ozain watched with fascination as a silver nimbus
spread from one ship to another, enfolding them all
within the widening circle of its luminescence. He
leaned forward and threw open the key of the
communicator-mike.
  "Commandor Ozain to aU ships-of-the-line. Triangu-
late your squadrons according to plan Delta, and go in
to take out the remainder of the enemy force. I don't
know what that silver glow means, but I'm willing to bet
it's got something to do with an improved type of shield-
ing. So gang-up on them; go in paired and tripled-up~
and hit them with everything you've got!"
  Here they come! Animated by expectation, Admiral
Venaam's thoughts slithered through his mind as ar-
dently as an aroused Y sss making his way down to the
mating-caves of Sserp. Now they will be humbled, he
gloated. .
  According to the plan, his ships decelerated and set
up the enemy in their gunsights. Venaam, his flagship
forming the exact center of the silver circle, chuckled
happily as the bright ships came forward in twos and
threes. Perfect! Perfect! he exclaimed. I've got them
right where I want them.
  He withheld the order to fire, even though the enemy
had come within effective range. Death make you wel-
come, fools, Venaam gloated, intoning the ritual for-
mula of his people.
  The void grew brighter as the League's starcraft
opened fire, streaking at the circle of ships before them.
  Open fire, High Admiral Venaam ordered, as
matter-of-factly as if he were selecting an item for his
breakfast menu.
  Ozain couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the
spectacle of destruction on the vidscreen. Even
Camenarpo grunted and leaned forward in his seat. The
enemy force was practically at a dead-halt now, disre-
garding defensive maneuvers and firing away with ev-
erything on boards its huge vessels, blowing the bright
ships to fragments of metal that hissed as they hurtled
through the void.
  The bright ships came in again and again, making pass
after pass, sustaining great losses as the hovering ves-
sels poured out storms of laser-bolts and hails of
proton-torpedos.
 Bam! Ozain slammed his fist down on the control-
console. "That's impossible! They're not breaking
formation! They're not even taking a single hit-and
they're tearing our ships apart!"
  "Order them out," said Brother Camenarpo, a sad
look on his face. "It is time for the Fellowship to use its
powers of mind."
  Venaam laughed hysterically as he watched the
bright ships withdraw. A third of the force had already
been enfolded in the flaming grip of death, and he hadn't
even given the order to advance. On the forward long-
range scanner he saw the hundred ships that held the
members of the Fellowship of Light begin to advance,
the rest of the spacefleet re-forming around them in a
defensive pattern.
  Now, he thought, it is the turn of the Fellowship. He
gave the order to advance.
  Camenarpo came out of his trance-state with a start.
He stared at the vidscreen in disbelief. The mind-lock
hadfailed! He and the other brothers and sisters of the
Fellowship had summoned the Infinite to churn up the
energies at the very heart of the matter and send them
breaking like a tidal wave over the backs of the Dark
Empire starships . . . but nothing had happened! The
enemy vessels just bobbed and danced on the seething
ocean of energy like beach-balls swept up by an incom-
ing tide.
  "We've got to get out of here," Ozain said, as he saw
the thousand invincible ships streak toward his force on
the screens. "As it is, they'll blow half of us away
before we get into hyperspace."
  Camencarpo took a deep breath before he spoke.
"There is one more thing we can try." Then he sat back
in his seat, his eyes rolling up in his head as he entered
the mind-lock once more.
  Concentrate all your powers on the enemy flagship,
he told the other members of his order, and on the
starships at the head of each of the approaching squad-
rons. We will attempt to penetrate their shields with our
thoughts. His body relaxed in his seat. His face was
radiant with the bright ecstasy of those who enter into
communion with the heart of the living universe. He
began to concentrate and focus his mind.
  S-s-s-s-s-s . . . The Ysss who sat at the controls star-
tled the admiral with his eerie, whistling hiss. Then,-
with the jerky movements of a robot with faulty cir-
cuits, the Ysss leaned over the controls and began to
press a series of keys, feeding a new program into the
Carnage's computer-system. If Venaam had seen the
blank stare behind the reptiloid's one-way visor, he
would have been alarmed.
  What are you doing? he asked the pilot, after watch-
ing his actions uncomprehendingly for a moment. The
pilot said nothing, but merely continued programming,
all the while hissing the eerie, mismerized hiss.
  Stop that, youfool-stop that immediately! Venaam
screamed telepathically, as he realized what the pilot
was actually doing. Stop it! he screamed again, clawing
at the pilot's rigid arms, unable to stop him. You're
backing up our reactors!
  It was the strangest explosion that Ozain had ever
seen. Once its reactors went into critical overload, the
starship went up like a supernova, with all the furious
unleashing of energy attendant upon such a transforma-
tion. But the whole process was contained with the oval
of the silver halo that surrounded the vessel. Then,
when the ship had been consumed, the force-field dissi-
pated and dissolved into the blackness of deep space.
  Ozain had plenty of time to study the phenomenon,
because it was repeated with each of the squadron
leader's starships.
  One after the other, violent yet contained explosions
flared, the silver halos that enclosed them disappearing
seconds after the starships were consumed.
  Immediately following this, the on-rushing force of
huge black vessels veered off-course, scattering to dis-
appear in the distance.
  "It will take them some time to re-group,"
Camenarpo said through his serene smile.
  Ozain nodded. The Dark Empire force was leaderless
now and flexibility and initiative in such situations was
never a strong point among the black-uniformed leg-
ions. "Time enough for us to make it into hyperspace
and return to Taylos," he said.
  The Supreme Commander didn't feel like stretching
his luck. If the enemy re-grouped and came at them
again, he didn't know whether the Fellowship could
handle so many of them at the same time. I'd better play
it safe, he thought, and get my people out ofhere while I
can.
  After thanking Camenarpo, he gave the order to re-
treat with a heavy heart. The League has lost its first
battle, he thought bitterly, the Battle of Havanal.

  As Blorg's detachment filed around toward the
Hazard's starboard side, the second column of Death
Legion commandos headed in the opposite direction to
complete the encirclement of the starship. Behind them
the rain forest blazed and back-lighted the soldiers ee-
rily; birds and animals screeched and roared as the fire
spread in all directions, fanned by the shifting winds.
  The lords of the Ysss advanced, the green wall of
foliage on his right as he approached the Hazard's far
side. The sun was setting rapidly, dropping like a stone
in the west, it seemed to Blorg, and darkness was al-
most upon them. He stepped up his pace.
  When he had extended his sight-line past the end of
the Hazard, Blorg saw a large group of humanoids
standing in a group, all with their hands over their heads
in the posture of surrender. He halted and looked at
them, squinting as he strained his eyes recognized the
familiar faces. The lady Nila. Thefelinoid. The boy who
had invented the scrambler. And the man whose death
was a year-and-a-half overdue. . . Red Rian.
  They appeared to be waiting for him as they stood
there outside the bright ship. But Blorg remembered
what happened on Astyx, the last time Rian surren-
dered to the forces of the Dark Empire. That little game
had cost the lives of nearly half a brigade of Death
Legion commandos. No, there would be no tricks this
time...
  Just as his troops came up beside him, Blorg saw the
Taylians move aside to let their leader pass. Rian
walked out of the human circle and headed toward the
reptiloid lord, hands still thrust high in the air, grinning
that mocking, insolent grin that Blorg hated above all
things in this life.
  Not this time, you sweat-stinking, hairy ape, he
thought, feeling acid waves of hatred break on the
shores.of his consciousness. This time we'll play by my
rules!
  The Devastator raised the rifle to his shoulder and
squinted into the gunsight, lining-up the burly, red-
bearded man in the turquoise jump-suit in its cross-
hairs. He took a deep breath and then began to exhale
gently, steadying himself as he did. The star-pirate was
now about fifty yards away from him.
  Haaa-aa-aaass-s-s-s! The cross-hairs of the gunsight
intersected at the center of Rian's barrel-chest.
  Still approaching at a steady pace, the buccaneer
started to speak. "Now hold on a minute, Blorg.
You've got. . . "
  Whaang! Whaang! Whaang! Blorg depressed the
firing-button, and kept his finger jammed against it. The
rifle flared in the dusk as its vivid beams shot forth.
Rian's body jerked with the impact of the first shot, and
was thrown backward as the succeeding blasts found
their mark. By the time it hit the ground, there was little
resemblance to the man who had been standing upright
a moment before.
  Kill them all! Blorg roared telepathically, in a frenzy
of bloodlust, as he lined up the growling felinoid in his
cross-hairs. To a man, the Death Legion commandos
levelled their weapons on the stunned humanoids.
Blorg fired. The commandos fired. Milling and scream-
ing, the Taylians fell to the ground before the furious
barrage, landing in charred and smoking heaps.
  Hit the ship -demolish it! Blorg ordered, lowering
his rifle. The troops behind him parted as three squat
homies rolled up. As the covers on top of their housings
began to raise, Blorg could see the cache of minimissiles
inside; and as the robots bent over in the direction of the
starship, he heard their internal computers clack as they
processed the input of the robots' sensors and calcu-
lated the firing range.
  Phwoom! Phwoom! Phwoom ! Trailing jets of flame
behind them, the missiles shot up into the air, dipping
down a moment later into the arc that would put them in
contact with the target. For an instant the area fell
silent, and all that could be heard was the whistling
descent of the missiles.
  WOOM! BOOM! BAROOM! The ground shook to
the explosions and the area lit up as bright as mid-day.
When the smoke had cleared, all that remained of the
Hazard was the blackened skeleton of its keel and ribs.
Blorg hummed the great death-anthem of Sserp.
  Just as he turned back to his troops- Whaang !-a
laser-bolt lanced out from the wall of foliage off to his
left! The commando beside him dropped to the ground
in smoke and flames. Blorg and the other commandos
went into a crouch and aimed their rifles. The answering
fire they sent into the rain forest burnt away a twenty
foot swath in the green wall.
  Blorg rose and grabbed the nearest scanner-tech,
jerking him roughly to his feet. How many left? he
demanded.
  The animaloid gulped and fiddled with the dials on the
face of his scanner. "I read two, Lord Blorg."
  Blorg thrust the tech forward with one of his free
hands, and waved the troops on with the other. After
them! he ordered.
  Her breastplate still smoking from the near miss, Zeif
the Valsing tore off her flaming cloak and plunged into
the underbrush. Not far behind, she could hear Blorg
and his commandos enter the rain forest. Her hands
went to her sides as she checked her weapons. The rifle
had been melted and the zappers were discharged, but
she still had her double-bladed axe.
  "There's one over there!" the scanner-tech yelled,
looking up from his screen and pointing ahead to the
left. No sooner had he said that than a laser-beam
dropped him in his tracks. Blorg and the others fired
back. They were answered by a man's screaming voice.
  One to go! Blorg telepathed as he set off again, the
four scouts ahead of him clearing a path in the jungle
with their de-vitalizer beams.
  Suddenly the scouts disappeared before his eyes! The
onrushing reptiloid reached out frantically and man-
aged to grab hold of an overhanging creeper, stopping
himself just short of the gaping pit that yawned before
him. As Blorg looked down, he realized that it was
freshly-dug, and must have been camouflaged before
the hapless scouts blundered into it. Now it lay open to
sight, revealing the bodies of the thrashing, screaming
commandos as they lay in the pit, covered from head to
toe by scores of poisonous snakes.
  Those filthy little natives again! Blorg thought an-
grily, as he watched the scouts die. A rustling sound in
the underbrush made him look up and turn to his right.
Whi-i-iish! Gleaming as it sped toward him, a silver axe -
loomed up before Blorg's eyes. He tried to turn away
and duck, but-Clong!-the axe slammed into his
plumed helmet.
  Haaa-a-a-aa . . . Blorg felt himself drowning in a sea
of roaring blackness. He exerted all his will in an at-
tempt to steady himself, but his knees had turned to
jelly. With a gasp, he pitched forward and plummeted
head-first down into the pit.
  "The blood-debt is paid, Ordlar!" Zeif Ysss-killer
shouted exultantly to the skies of Azitlin. It was the last
thing she said before the commandos gunned her down.


                     Chapter 10
             Bringing It AII Back Home


  At the same time that Zeif the Valsing knocked Blorg
the Devastator into the snake-pit, another bright ship
soared into the skies of Azitlin. The Death Legion
commandos, all gathered around the spot where their
leader had fallen, barely had time to turn and look in the
direction of the roaring sound before the craft shot out
from its camouflaged position at the edge of the clearing
opposite the great central pyramid. Across the huge
area of hard-packed earth, the technicians on board the
Scourge never even had time to get a fix on the starship
before it scrambled and disappeared.
  The fugitive vessel was none other than the good ship
Hazard-the real Hazard, on its way back to Yahwoo.
The High Master of the Fellowship of Light stood in the
sick-bay's intensive care section and gazed down at the
form of the young man in the bio-respirator. Nila, Pur-
pur and Ween Leever stood by Garthane's side. A
moment later, Red Rian-the real Red Rian-walked
into the room.
  "Has the kid still got a chance?" he asked Doctor
Vana.
  The doctor nodded. Purpur sighed with relief. Nila
wiped her eyes. Ween sniffed loudly. "I think so,"
Doctor Vana replied. "We'll be back on Yahwoo in no
time. Then, once Dann gets checked out there, we'll
have to get him the best care available."
  "I know just where to send him," Garthane said.
  Rian turned away from the respirator. "Garthane,
you mean to tell me those things back there were actu-
ally our doubles?" The High Master nodded. "And that
the other Hazard was exact in every detail?" Garthane
nodded a second time. "Well then, how did you ever
figure out what Ylang was up to?"
  "Dann's thoughts reached me after you had crash-
landed," Garthane answered. "At first, I thought it was
a dream. But I kept returning to the memory of it until I
began to understand. That was the night before the
invasion of Havanal was launched. And the whole
episode concerning the space-virus and the total
erasure of all the Hazard's-the other Hazard's-
recording devices just seemed too neat. . . and too
strange. I didn't know what the doubles were about to
do, but I was prepared for anything. So when they
scrambled, and were about to kill me, I overpowered
their minds and took the ship to X-so Then I waited until
the Valsings took off, and. . . "
  The squawk of the intercom interrupted him. The
com-spec relayed the transmission he'd just received:
the League had lost the Battle of Havanal. Everyone on
the Hazard was shocked into silecne at the news. It was
several moments before anyone spoke.
  "Garthane, that force-field'sgonnagive our side a lot
of trouble," Ween said.
  A solemn look came over the High Master's face. "I
know. And according to the information I got from the
minds of the clones, Ylang- Ylang is mass-producing
them."
  "That's a problem, I can tell you," Rian said, shaking
his head.
  "It is," Garthane replied. "Unless we do something
about it."
  Rian spoke to Garthane again, but his eyes never left
Ween Leever's face. "There's something else you
don't know, Garthane. Blorg has spies in Taylos." He
produced the golden tracer-disc. "That's how old
snake-skull happened to be laying for us outside of
Yahwoo."
  "Rian, that's a Greeban tracer!" Ween blurted.
  "I know, Ween," the star-pirate replied softly.
  "But the only Greebans on Yahwoo are Uncle Vax
and. . . Ween's voice trailed off as a horrified expres-
sion spread over his face.
  "I know, Ween," the star-pirate repeated.

  Small slithery thoughts. . . startled, curious and dim:
that was the first thing that crossed Blorg's mind when
he regained consciousness at the bottom of the pit.
  When his vision cleared, the lord of the Ysss saw the
commandos leaning over, gaping down in slack-jawed
astonishment at the fact that he was still alive. And
indeed Blorg was a strange sight as he lay there in the
pit, with hundreds of poisonous snakes of all different
sizes and colors covering the length of his body like a
bright and lethal blanket.
  But where the serpents had blanketed the unfortu-
nate scouts with their fanged and venomed anger, they
lay as light as pleasant dreams on the reptiloid from
Sserp, slithering over him and snuggling up to him
gently, recognizing the Devastator as one of their own.
Hissing and writing coyly, the nest of vipers welcomed
Blorg like a long-lost brother and undulated in the cold
comfort of his thoughts.
  For a brief moment, the reptiloid was transported in
memory back to the desertworld of his birth, as he
recalled the slithery play of his nursery days. He
crooned telepathically to the snakes, singing them the
death-rhymes his brood-mother sang to him when he
was a newly-hatched snakelet. Then, brushing the ser-
pents aside gently, the Devastator got to his feet and
looked up at the flabbergasted commandos.
  Get me out of here, you gawking idiots !" his mind
roared, causing the snakes to scatter in every direction.
  
  As Garthane issued precise instructions to the
felinoid medical orderlies who met the Hazard at Mee's
spaceport, Red Rian dashed off in search of Vax Wax-
nax Leever, a zapper in his hand and murder in his
heart.
  "No, Rian, no!" Ween cried, lunging after him.
Quick as a cat, Purpur reached out and grabbed him by
the shoulders. The boy struggled, but was unable to
break the cat-man's powerful grip. Purpur spun him
around and looked at him. There were tears in Ween's
eyes. "Uncle Vax would never do a thing like that-
never! I've got to stop Rian!" Pu~ur just stared at
Ween, and shook his head slowly. "But, Purr," Ween
protested, struggling to break free, "he'll kill him!"
Purpur nodded.
  Blam !The door to Vax's apartment burst open with a
loud noise, startling the great-bellied old man who was
eating his lunch at a table across the room, causing him
to dip his bread-filled fist up to the wrist in the bowl of
soup that sat before him. The star-pirate burst in and
levelled his zapper at Ween's uncle, his face as dark as a
thundercloud. Vax went wide-eyed, and slowly rose
from his seat as the furious buccaneer stormed up to
him.
  "Why, Captain Rian," Vax said in a quavery drawl,
"what seems to be the trouble?"
  "Recognize this, unk?" the pirate asked, holding the
golden disc under Vax's bulbous nose. His hand trem-
bled as he held the zapper agains the man's ponderous
belly. Red Rian could barely contain his anger.
  Vax darted a quick look at the tracer. His eyes met
Rian's for an instant. Then they travelled down to the
zapper. "Yas," he replied with a gulp. "It's one of
ours.So....?
  "So that's how Blorg blew me out of the void!" Rian
roared, the veins at his temples pounding, his eyes
nearly popping out of his head. "Don't play games with
me, you big bag of star-gas, not when I'm about to sizzle
your guts like sausages in a pan!"
  "There seems to be a slight misunderstanding here,"
Vax replied weakly, his knees beginning to sag.
  "Aaa-aa-a-aaah !" the star-pirate roared, his rage
mastering him as he stepped back and aimed his zapper
at the heart of the old man whose great stomach gurgled
with the borborygmus of fear. "That's it, you bam-
boozling bag ofkag-skrit!" he bellowed. "I don't know
whether you Greebans pray or not, but you've got just
thirty seconds to do whatever it is you guys do before
you die!"
  Vax's knees gave way, and he sank back into his
chair with a whooshing exhalation. "Sir, I'm inno-
cent," he protested feebly. "Why, wh~n I got away
from Greeb, I . . . "
  "I know how you got away from Greeb-with
Blorg's blessing!" the star-pirate interrupted. His
trigger-finger glided onto the firing-button of the zap-
per. "Say your prayers, buster!"
  "That's not entirely correct, Captain Rian," a voice
behind the buccaneer said coldly. Rian wheeled around
and saw Ven Fenben, Vax's second-in-command,
standing in the doorway, flanked by two other
Greebans. Rian's glance dropped from their narrowed
eyes down to the gaping mouths of the zappcrs they
held at their sides.
  "Drop it, or you're dead," Ven told him. "Now!"
one of the other Greebans ordered when Rian hesitated.
The star-pirate dropped his zapper and raised his hands
above his head.
  "Ven, my boy!" Vax exclaimed, struggling to his
feet. "You've come to save me! Dear Ven Fenben
Grennel!"
  "Shut up, you fat old fool!" Ven snarled, as one of
the other Greebans aimed his weapon at Vax's trem-
bling belly. "And sit down!"
  Rian's jaw dropped as he heard this exchange.
"What's going on here?" he asked.
  Ven looked at him and smiled sadistically. " You may
be a great star-pilot, Rian, but as a detective you stink."
  "I beg your pardon, Ven," Vax piped-up nervously.
"But. . . "
  I told you to shut up!" Ven snarled again, his eyes
never leaving Red Rian's. "You see, Rian, that old tub
actually did hoodwink the Y sss and escape from oc-
cupied Greeb." He smiled his nasty smile again. "But
he didn't know that he took three of Blorg's men with
him. By the way, I'll take my tracer now." he said,
holding out his hand. "You don't realize it, Rian, but
you're talking to the next governor of Taylos. I'm will-
ing to give you ten to one that's what Blorg will make me
when I present him with your skull."
  "Ven Fenben!" old Vax howled, puffing as he
heaved himself out of his seat. "You're a traitor to your
own people, a filthy, stinking traitor!"
  The smile never left Ven's lips as he said, "Kill him."
The two Greebans with him moved forward and aimed
their zappers at Vax. As Rian began to lower his hands,
Ven stepped back and aimed his zapper at the pirate's
head, his finger tensing on the firing-button.
  "None of you will ever kill again" The Greebans all
wheeled around and saw a tall, purpled-cowled figure in
the doorway.
  "You're unarmed, Garthane," Ven sneered. "How
do you propose to stop us?"
  Garthane stared into V en's eyes, his own pupils dilat-
ingas he did so. Suddenly, the Greeban began to tremble
from head to toe and broke out into a violent fit of
coughing. Rian looked around, and saw that the same
thing was happening to the other gunmen. He could feel
the waves of energy emanating from the High Master's
mind.
  Kaa-haaa-phwaah! Ven exploded into a great, bark-
ing cough. As he did, a jet of blood shot out from his
mouth. Blood flowed from his nose like water from twin
faucets. Blood welled-up in the canals of his ears, and
overflowed onto his jaws and neck. Ven fell to the
carpet, dead as any man had ever been. Hemorrhaging
in the same fashion, the two gunmen fell down, as dead
as their chief.
  Just then, Ween burst into the room and ran over to
his uncle, embracing the big-bellied old rascal as best he
could. "Uncle Vax!" he sobbed. "Uncle Vax!"
  "There, there, m'boy," Vax said, hugging his
nephew and patting him on the head. "It's all right,
Ween Nerdeen. It's all right."
  "I knew you didn't betray us," Ween said between
sobs. "I knew you could never do such a thing."
  "Yas. That's true. I may have my faults," Vax
drawled, security restoring his former pomposity, "but
I love my world. And my family," he added, belly-
hugging his nephew.
  "Oh, Zel!" Rian exclaimed in a weak voice, as he
came up to the pair. He-looked stricken. "Vax, Ween,"
he said. "I . . . "
  Stepping back from his uncle's embrace, Ween spun
around and launched a hay-maker at the pirate's face.
  Crack! The punch landed right on the point of the
star-pirate'sjaw, and sent him reeling backwards to the
door. Purpur enteredjust in time to catch him. Garthane
went over to Ween and put a calming hand on the boy's
shoulder. "He couldn't have known, Ween. Besides,
Vax is all right, so forgive him."
  Ween glared at Rian. "I'll never forgive him," he
snapped. "Never!"
  "Let this be a great lesson to you, Captain Rian,"
Garthane said. "Always get the facts straight before
you act."
  Rian was pale as the moon of Aquaea. "I almost
killed an innocent man," he mumbled. "Vax, can you
ever forgive me?"
  "I forgive you, Captain Rian," Vax Waxnax Leever
said magnanimously, throwing his arm around the
star-pirate's shoulder and leading him out of the room.
"I do forgive you. How were you to know Ven was
behind it all, when even I-his leader-didn't. Come,
let's go to your quarters and drink to it."
  Nila passed them in the hallm just before she came
into the room. "Garthane," she said berathlessly, "the
members of the Fellowship-the ones who stayed on
Palos-have just touched down at the spaceport. And
the Havanal expeditionary force is in orbit outside the
atmosphere."
  "Good," Garthane replied, smiling serenely as he
nodded. He looked up from Ven's corpse and turned to
the others. "Nila, I want you to stay with Dann until the
hospital-ship comes for him. After you see him off,
remain here on Yahwooand direct the League's liaison
functions with Primula." Nila nodded and left the
room.
  Garthane smiled up at the cat-man. ."Purpur, let Rian
and Vax have a drink or two before you break it up.
That will give you a little time to say goodbye to Maowl.
Then bring the captain back to the Hazard." Purpur
meowed.
  "Ween," Garthane said, smiling tenderly at the
Hazard's chief tech-head, "I want you to come with
me. Let's have a little talk before we leave."
  Ween nodded. "What's up, Master Garthane?" he
asked. "Where are we giong?"
  The High Master stared into Ween's eyes. "We're
going on a little visit. . . "

  Blowing Rian and the Hazard away, followed by the
slithery mingle with the pit full of snakes, had done
wonders for Blorg's disposition. Even when the com-
mandos told him of the unidentified starship's escape,
he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. Later, perhaps,
when Taylos had been retaken, he would come back to
this place and .irradiate it.
  His headache was even disappearing. The gashed
helmet was an embarassment, of course, but he would
change it in a moment, when he got inside the Scourge.
What was that thing who hi! me, and what did it hit me
with? he asked the Ysss officer who marched beside
him.
  It was a Valsingfemale, my lord. And it hit you with a
double-bladed durallium axe.
  A female, eh? He raised his upper right hand and
fingered the long gash in his helmet. Hits hard for a
female. Was she annihilated?
  Scorched to cinders, the Ysss replied. Blorg smiled
as he went up the Scourge's tlexiladder.
  "Sir, I've just picked up a transmission," the
humanoid com-spec told him as he entered the ship.
"We trashed them at Havana!. But we lost Admiral
Venaam."
  No great loss, Blorg thought privately. He hissed
with laughter as he imagined his rival's last expression
before Death made him welcome. The only force-field
console to fail, and old Venaam had to get it. What a
pity.
  Has the emperor given the order for the star fleets to
assemble? he asked the man. The com-spec nodded.
  Good. Then qll is in order. Blorg sighed like a tea
kettle coming off the boil. We have done enoughfor one
day. Let us return to the comforts of Flaigon.
  He turned to the insectoid equerry who had entered
the ship behind him. Clean and polish those skulls, and
then bring them to my cabin.
  
  "Damn all machines!" Ordlar the Valsing growled,
as he left the engine room of his starship in the company
of the chief-engineer. "Can you keep the blasted thing
together until we reach Flaigon?" he asked.
  The engineer tugged at his beard. "Yes, I think so,"
he said slowly. "We'll get there later than you planned
. . . but we'll get there, all right."
  Ordlar ran his finger over the blade of the axe that
hung by his side. He thought of Zeif. . . and snake-pits
. . . and that scaly beast, Blorg.
  " As long as the reactors hold," Ordlar said, squinting
at the stocky engineer.
  "They'll hold, Ordlar Hondingsson. They're operat-
ing below standard, but they'll hold."
  "They'd better, Hylar. ~e've got a lot of killing to
do." The engineer nodded in agreement, smiling like an
ice-wolf in a cattle pen.
  "It's a hell of a way to travel," Ordlargrumbled as he
walked off, "on one's last voyage."

  It took three stiff shots of nenegol to steady the skip-
per of the Hazard's trembling hands. Rian fingered his
aching jaw and thought of Ween Leever, a crushing
sadness in his heart as he did.
  Then he thought about Dann Oryzon. He prayed the
Infinite that the kid would come out of his coma with all
his faculties intact. Even though the young Aquaean
was his rival in love, the pirate had taken him into his
heart with no reservations.
  And he thought about Nila. The lady from Aurea
Solis had come to a decision, but she wouldn't make it
known until Dann had recovered. And Red Rian didn't
have a clue as to which one of them she was going to
choose.
  A huge, dark form appeared in his thoughts. Rian had
hated to miss the chance to ice Blorg on Azitlin, but
Garthane deemed it more important to get Dann away
from the place. . . and he was right. But the star pirate
knew he'd meet Blorg again.
  Then he thought of Ween, and hung his head in
shame. "Vax," he said, addressing the old guzzler
across the table, "Ween's gonna hate me for the rest of
his life. . . "

  Quaarg sat at the controls of the Malice in a state of
shock. His visit to the strange galaxy had been one of
constant surprises. The behavior of the creatures who
ruled the place ftIled the young reptiloid with wonder.
  It was disconcerting enough when he considered the
way they treated him, a Ysss, a member of the fiercest
and most dreadful race in all creation. But what manner
of creatures were they, those self-assured and arrogant
entities who felt not the slightest twinge of awe when
the Dark Emperor's name was mentioned? He shook
his head in disbelief.
  Well, Quaarg thought, as his ship raced through the
eerie realms of hyperspace, at least great Ylang will be
pleased that they have responded positively to its re-
quest.
  He didn't undc:r~tand what was going on, but he knew
instinctively that it was important. . .

  The medical ship trembled with the jolt of
hyperspace entry, but Dann Oryzon wasn't even aware
of the transition. His respirator floated three feet off the
deck, suspended in air by four levitator beams. White-
smocked attendants flocked around the machine,
monitoring the complex of instruments on its panels,
taking notes each time a variation occurred in the read-
outs.
  Also in attendance were three brain specialists, two
from Yahwoo and one from the League's med-staff
based at its Taylian headquarters there. They conferred
in hushed voices, nodding occasionally when one of
their number would begin to elaborate on one of the
finer points in the medicai discussion. They were con-
sidering the need for brain-surgery, but had not yet
arrived at a decision. . .

  In her apartment in Mee, Nilalay sprawled across her
bed, crying her heart out. The brave lady from the
golderiplanet was frightened for Dann Oryzon's sake.
She didn't know if he was going to make it out of his
coma, and whether or not his faculties would be intact,
even if he did.
  What had really frightened Nilawas Doctor Vana's
mentioning the possibility of Dann' s having incurred
brain damage, the possibility of recovery with impaired
function, the possibility of Dann's becoming a vegeta-
ble.
  Nila cried harder than she had since she was a little
girl.
  Suddenly, a light touch on the back of her head
caused her to turn around and look up. Through her
tears, she saw Maowl standing over her.
  The felinoid yowled softly as she stroked her friend
hair, sharing her grief. 

  There was a firm set to Garthane'sjaw as he sat in the
control-center of the Hazard; his normally serene
countenance wore a look of fierce determination that
his son's companions had never seen before.
  All around the starship, bright vessels streaked
through the energic dimensions of hyperspace as the
survivors of the Havanal expedition -and an even
greater force as well-sped on their way to a grim
encounter:
  Rian wheeled around in the pilot's seat and faced the
High Master. He was burning with curiosity, and his
ears were almost as red as the hair that surrounded
them. "Garthane," he said, staring hard into the man's
eyes, "'you've massed most of the available fighting
ships of two galaxies and assembled all but ten of the
remaining old-time members of the Fellowship of Light
. . . what's going on.
  "I was about to announce my plan to the entire
spacenavy in a few minutes, Captain. Do you mind
waiting?" The star-pirate lowered his head and ground
his teeth in frustration. Purpur patted his skipper on the
back as the ghost of a smile haunted Garthane's lips.
Ween just sat with his head down, wringing his hands.
 Rian sighed loudly, melodramatically. "Yeah, sure,"
he said. "I can wait."
  "No, I'll tell you now," the High Master replied.
"I'm not a man who feeds on the agonies of others."
  "All right!" Red Rian exclaimed, his grin flashing
like a beacon in the void. "Where're we goin' then?"
  Garthane's expression grew solemn as he looked
around the control center. "We're going to Flaigon,"
he said gravely, as the others went wide-eyed and gaped
at him. Even Ween looked up and his expression
matched those on the faces of his friends. "To destroy
the planet. . . and Ylang-Ylang along with it."

  Ylang- Ylang gurgled and sputtered in its lair, lighting
up the place with an obscene display of pyrotechnics as
it gloated over the success of its latest move in the great
galactic game.
  Perfect! Perfect! the Dark Emperor rhapsodized, the
acid waves of its joy singeing the nerve-ends of every
creature in Kordor, the Mordling clones included. The
Battle of Havanal was a great victory just as I had
predicted. And even now, a space-force ten times
greater than the armada is assembling, drawnfrom all
points in my vast empire. Once they have rendezvoused
in deep space, my darlings will then speed on to
Primula-to the outworlds of the Nova Vega system,
where they will descend on the planet Palos. . . and
obliterate the Fellowship of Light.
  The Forbidden City rocked to the Dark Emperor's
mirth. Soon my starships will all be outfitted with
force-field consoles, and my fleets will then be invi-
ncible. Nothing in the universe will be able to withstand
me, and I shall be at liberty to devour every living thing
in it, gorging myself unto the end of eternity!
  And dear little Quaarg must be on his way back now,
returning with his belovedfather's guarantee of safety
until the Fellowship of Light is totally eradicated. . . .

  "Looks like this is it," Red Rian said, as the
spacenavy flared in the void as it left the currents of
hyperspace. Purpur growled softly beside him. Garth-
ane's eyes rolled up in his head as he entered the cosmic
trance-state of communion with the Infinite. "We'll be
approaching Flaigon's security network in a few min-
utes," the star-pirate informed his companions. He
winced as he turned to face Ween Leever. "Kid, I'm
sorry as hell for what happened on Yahwoo," he said
haltingly. "Can you ever forgive me?"
  Ween stopped wringing his hands abruptly, although
he did not look up for several moments. When he did, he
was blushing. . . and smiling as well. "I already have,
skipper," he said. "I already have."
  The cat-man purred louder than the Hazard's reac-
tors as a relieved and smiling Red Rian turned back to
the console and threw open the intercom-mike's key.
"Attention all hands," he barked. "Look-sharp, you
bow-legged bunch of overfed ginks! We're going in to
take care of that bloated pile of radioactive debris once
and for all. So shake your butts and limber up your
trigger-fingers. . . . And the odds are high that we'll find
old bonehead somewhere in the vicinity, too. C'mon
now, lads, let's give it all we've got, so we can send
them all to the hot racks of hell!"

  Just as the Valsing ship touched down on the surface
of Flaigon, the collective powers of mind of the Fellow-
ship of Light tossed the huge black starships that ringed
the planet's atmosphere like small craft on the crest ofa
tidal wave, cracking the keels of the outermost vessels
and scattering the others in every direction, sending
them streaking off to all points of the compass. All
points except one. . . the one that indicated the ap-
proach of the attack-force's bright ships.
  By the time the air-lock decompressed, and the hatch
of Ordlar's starship whooshed open, the bombardment
of Flaigon had already begun. The great docking facility
was rocked by explosions, and ground-crews and pla-
toons of black-uniformed soldiers scattered and ran for
their lives, as the allied space-fleets rained showers of
missiles and torpedos down on the black planet's sur-
face.
  Armed to to the teeth, whooping like the devil's
cheerleaders, the Valsings burst out of the starship,
fingers on the triggers of their weapons, expecting a hot
hail of laser-beams for their welcome. They stopped
dead in their t!acks when they found the immense
spaceport nearly deserted, the last remnants of the
force that guarded it scurrying off for the shelter of the
city below.
  Ordlar surveyed the scene with grim satisfaction.
"Someone had the same idea that we did, but only on a
larger scale," he said, waving his men on. "To the
levitators," he roared. "Let us find Ylang- Ylang, and
hunt the beast down!"

  When the Scourge came out of hyperspace, Blorg
looked up at the vidscreen in his cabin and could not
believe his eyes. The dark orb of Flaigon was ringed by
thousands of bright starships, each and everyone of
them firing great, flaming fusillades down at its
surface-and the Atmospheric Security forces were
nowhere in sight!
  It was unbelievable! The lord of the Ysss hissed his
surprise as he stared at the incredible spectacle on the
screen. The League of Free Worlds only a short time
after its defeat in Havanal was attacking the very heart
of the Dark Empire! 
  Blorg burst out of his cabin and dashed down the
corridor that led to the Scourge's-control-center, shak-
ing his head in an attempt to dispel the black fog that had
settled on his mind. 

  Startled out of its dreams of gluttonous anticipation, 
the Great Devourer flashed and boomed as the onset of
the League's massive bombardment shook the Forbid-
den City of Kordor. Walls buckled and ceilings
cracked; the very stones beneath Ylang- Ylang's pulsat-
ing mass began to buck and heave.
  What is going on here? the emperor asked, too as-
tonished to be furious at the interruption. Something
had the planet in its grip and was shaking down the walls
of Kordor. Ylang felt the first energizing flush of anger
as it realized that Atmospheric Security was not re-
sponding to its impatient queries. Pandemonium
reigned outside the brazen doors of the lair, and the
Devourer could taste the fear and confusion of its un-
derlings. The horrible shrieks of the Mordlings rang out
in the distance, growing louder with each repetition.
Whatever was shuddering the walls of the Forbidden
City had freed the monsters as well.
  Ylang sent its thoughts up to the surface of Flaigon,
and then beyond it, up into the air and out into space.
The star-tyrant burbled and gasped as it realized what
was happening. The League of Free Worlds is attackinl?
my court. the Devourer thought, a thrill of dread
rippling its great mass, causing it to fill the lair with dark,
sulphurous clouds. Then Ylang grew afraid, as it
thought of the Fellowship of Light. The one thing I
feared has come to pass. The old monkeys are after me!
  Ylang- Ylang screamed, explosions detonating all
over its surface, as it felt the first stab of the powers of
mind of the Fellowship of Light. . .

  Commander Ozain's voice blared over the speakers
of the Hazard: "All ships are to keep firing! Pour it on!
Concentrate your firepower on the assigned sectors.
Hit them with everything you've got!"
  Red Rian watched thevidscreens in awe as the great
silver flotilla rained its fire on Flaigon' s suI:face like the
signature on the order for Armageddon. Multi-megaton
explosions flared on the planet's surface, their coronas
lighting the dead face of Ylang's homeworld with the
brilliance of borning suns; huge mushroom clouds
spouted high into the thin atmosphere, mantling the
radiance below in churning billows of thermal turbu-
lence.
  "Make 'em all count, lads!" the star-pirate roared
into the intercom-mike. "Each and everyone of 'em!
Lets give that guzzling bag of unholy energies a meal to
remember!"
  Beside'him, Purpur yowled with excitement; behind
him, Ween kept saying "Wow!" over and over again,
each time Flaigon shook in its orbit with the violence of
the barrage. Rian smiled as he recalled the time when,
dead-drunk, he had painted each of the torpedos' war-
heads with the Dark Emperor's name. There's nothing
like a personalized message to get your point across, he
thought gleefully.
  Rian turned to look at Garthane. He could feel the
power emanating from the man. The High Master's face
was drained of all color, and his features were set in an
expression as hard and unyielding as the side of a -
mountain.
  Pour out all your energies, and direct them at Ylang,
Rian heard the High Master order telep_athically. Pierce
its center-tear it apart!
  "Calling the Hazard! Calling the Hazard!" a voice
squawked over the communicator. ., Attention Captain
Rian. The Scourge has just been sighted. It's shielded
by a force-field, and is coming in at a heading of one-
three-fiver-repeat: one-three-fiver. Blorg's here, and
he's coming in fast!"
  Garthane shook his head as he came out of the trance.
He turned to Red Rian, who was staring at him expec-
tantly.
  "He's covered by that force-field gizmo," the pirate
said.
  The High Master nodded. "Then we will have to
neutralize it. Turn your ship around, and go out after
him."
  Rian grinned at him. "I've been waiting a long time
for this," he said.


                    Chapter 11 
                A World Destroyed


  Ylang's mind-rending screams of pain flooded Kordon
astheValsing-a' hundred-and-fifty strong-streamed
into the network of corridors that led to its lair. The
troops garrisoned in the Forbidden City were almost
totally immobilized, and the blood-lusting intruders
mowed down any black-uniformed bands that hap-
pened to cross their path. Between the frequent earth-
quakes and avalanches of falling basalt, and the dread-
ful, howling demons that ran amok in Kordor, destroy-
ing every living thing they got their claws or jaws on, the
soldiers of the emperor's household guard had all they
could do to save their own skins.
  As the Valsings entered the far end of the an-
techamber, they ran smack into a pack of the ferocious
Mordlings. Screaming like a chorus auditioning for the
Last Judgement, the forty-foot horrors tore into Ord-
lar's band. Bodies flew through the air and blood spat-
tered the walls, beasts roared and men cursed, lasers
flared and whined as the terrible battle was joined.
  Kill the hell-hounds! Blow their heads off!" Ordlar
roared, urging his men on as he fired his laser-rifle
straight up into the gaping, dagger-toothed mouth that
descended on him, dripping its green and venomous
saliva. The giants were awesome in their power and
fury, but they were no match for the concentrated
firepower of the Valsings.
  When the last of the Mordling clones had crashed to
the gound in a great, smoking heap, Ordlar looked
around the antechamber and realized he'd lost over a
third of his force. But that meant nothing to him once he
spotted the brazen doors that led to Ylang- Ylang's lair.
He waved the men with the mini-missile launchers for-
ward, and then signalled for his crew to check out their
weapons in the interval that elapsed before the things
were set up. And when all was in readiness, Ordlar
thought of Zeif and smiled a smile as cold as an arctic
sunrise. He raised his hand in the air, looking around at
his crew for what he knew would be the last time. The
chief engineer winked and they all answered with the
wolf-smiles of the V alsings.
  "Fire!" Ordlar roared, bringing his hand down shar-
ply. The antechamber rocked with explosions, and
flared with a brightness foreign to the dark stones. The
great doors blew in and fell to the floor of the lair with a
resounding crash. Before the smoke had even begun to
clear, the Valsings streamed in, whooping their war-
cry.
  "Welia-la-lai-yaaa!" they bellowed as they charged
over the fallen doors, blasting away with laser-rifles and
zappers at the startled group of Y sss clustered in the
center of the lair. Surprised and stunned, the reptiloids
made an attempt to return their fire, but were cut down
before they had time to go into a crouch. When the last
of the Ysss had fallen, the Valsings turned and looked
upon Ylang- Ylang for the first time.
  Yaaa-aa-aa-aaah! the Dark Emperor screamed, the
concentrated powers of mind of the Fellowship of Light
creating a huge and painful turbulence at its center.
Stricken by the sight of Ylang's corrupt energies thun-
dering and lightening in an accurate reflection of its
torment, the Valsings clutched at their blinded eyes and
reeled backwards, screaming the screams of the
damned.
  "Oh, no!" Ordlar wailed, unable to comprehend the
vision of horror he'd just seen. "Oh, no!"
  YAAA-AA-AA-AAAH-H-H-H! As the Great De-
vourer screamed even louder, a burst of insane energy
exploded out of the front of its mass and enveloped the
Valsings. When the sulphurous clouds had lifted, there
was not a single trace left of the intruders.
  Suddenly, Ylang's mass began to contract as the
walls of the lair started to collapse. The Dark Emperor
called for the Ysss to come in him immediately. . .

  "The readings are unbelievable, sir!" the tech
exclaimed, looking up from the screens with an in-
credulous expression on his pale face. "The planet
can't take much more of this. It's going to blow wide
open any second."
  The Supreme Commander of the League of Free
Worlds nodded and smiled a grim little smile. He
reached out and activated the communicator-mike.
  "Attention all ships," he said. "This is Commander
Ozain speaking. Keep pouring it on. Don't let up for a
moment. I want you all to keep ruing until that filthy
rock is blown into nothingness.

  Eager hands carried the bio-respirator out of the star-
ship and placed it in the waiting vehicle. As the ambu-
lance sped off, the two figures that sat on each sid~ of
Dann Oryzon looked up at each other, their eyes glow-
ing in their beautiful countenances.
  "Is everything ready at the center?" the female
asked.
  The male nodded his head slowly. "It should be. I
told them to be ready to operate the moment we ar-
rive.
  "I hope it's not too late," the female said, as she
stared down at the unconscious young man in the re-
spirator.
  "Pray the Infinite it isn't," the male replied gently.
"Pray that we can save him. . . "

  Haaa-aa-aaass! Blorg the Devastator looked at the
vidscreen and almost fell out of his seat as the shock of
recognition jolted him with an overdose of adrenalin.
There on the screen, streaking directly toward his ship
with the swiftness and certainty of divine retribution,
was the good ship Hazard!
  No! he thought, as confusion reasserted its dark
presence in the shadowy caves of his reptilian mind.
No, no, no-it can't be! It has to be the duplicate
Hazard! I just incinerated Rian and his. . .
  "Greetings to the filthiest and most misbegotten
monstrosity ever spawned in the entire universe, that
vilest of insults to the life-force, that grazzy, overgrown
half-acre of space garbage that goes by the name of
Blorg the Devastator," a bright baritone voice rang out
over the Scourge's com-speakers. "Greetings to that
clammy, slinking slayer of wee ~hildren and the infirm
elderly, that hissing mass of corruption that hides its
ugly face under a visor and its scabby bone-head be-
neath a helmet. Greetings from the skipper and crew of
the good ship Hazard to . . . "
  Click! Blorg switched off the speaker, and hissed
furiously. He sat there trembling like a patient undergo-
ing electroshock. It was Rian! There was no mistaking
that voice and form of address. Womp-bomp-a-bomp!
His four fists thundered down onto the panel of the
console. I killed the doubles! he thought, seething with
rage. I risked my life on that stinking wasteworld -only
to blow away those stupid clones!
  He turned away from the screen and screamed a mute
scream of insane anger and sheer frustration as he
looked out at the bow of his starship and saw the glow of
his force-field fade into nothingness.
  Blorg spun around to face the Y sss at the controls of
the force-field console. What the hell do you think
you're doing, you brainless mental deficient? Re-
activate that field before I tear your heart out with my
own hands!
  The technician's only reply was a gurgling hiss that
sounded like the last stages of air-lock decompression.
Suddenly, he pitched sidewise in his seat and fell to the
deck.
  Keep her on course! Blorg ordered the co-pilot, as he
sprang up and bounded over to the force-field console,
stepping on the dead technician in his haste.
  Frozen! The controls are frozen! he exclaimed,
scrabbling frantically at the dials and levers on the face
of the console. Damn the suns, damn the stars! What is
happening here?
  He raced back to the control-console and threw open
the intercom switch. Attention all hands. Stand by to
blast that ship out of the void! Gunners, make your
report.
  Nothing. Silence. The only response the lord of the
Ysss received was the blast of white noise that came
back over the open com-speaker.
  Make your report, I said! the Devastator bellowed
mentally. But still no response was to be heard. Then
suddenly Blorg was slammed back into his seat as the
Scourge began to decelerate.
  Accelerate, you scum -accelerate! he screamed at
the co-pilot beside him. Now! He lashed out with his
lower right arm and slammed the Y sss on the side of his
plumed helment. Blong! The Ysss rocked in his seat,
pitched forward onto the console, and slid to the deck.
  Blorg leaned over and fumbled with the controls,
jamming his fingers down on the keyboard as he at-
tempted to re-program the ship's computer. Haaa-aa-
aaass! Nothing happened. The controls were frozen.
He looked up, and saw the Hazard draw alongside of
the Scourge. Magneto-beams lanced out from the star-
board side of the bright ship and locked onto the hull of
the dark vessel. The Hazard had grappled the Scourge,
and was drawing closer as the beam-lengths contracted.
  The lord of the Ysss sat bolt-upright'in his seat,
transfixed by the spectacle outside, as he realized that
the Scourge was now under the control of Garthane' s
powers of mind. . .

  "There she blows, sir! That's it-the end of Flaigon
. . . and Ylang- Ylang!"
  In the control-center of the Aurea Solis, Commander
Ozain gave the order to cease firing and settled back in
his seat to witness the beginning of the end of the black
planet.
  The surface of Ylang's homeworld was now so
bright, consumed as it was by a holocaust of therma,l
energies, that the crew had to turn away from the
portholes and w~tch the rest of the incredible spectacle
on the vidscreens. A hush fell over the ship and all
hands stared 'at the screens with rapt and fascinated
attention, watching the heart of the Dark Empire go up
like kindling wood in the fires of vengeance and
technology.
  Not a single soul in the great spaceforce that ringed
the planet with its silver ships uttered a word. No one
made a sound.
  "Damn your scaly ass," Red Rian roared as the
air-lock hatched whooshed open and he burst into the
control-center of the Scourge, "I have you now!"
  The Devastator's only reply was a hot fusillade of
laserbeams from the brace of zappers he held in his
upper hands. Blorg was now at the far end of the room,
his back to the corridor that led to the after-decks of the
huge black vessel.
  A split-second before the laser-beams whaanged
through the air and scorched the plating on both sides of
the hatch, Rian dove behind the control-console. He
rolled over twice and came up at its far end, blazing
away at Blorg with his own two zappers.
  As the wave of searing energy broke to one side of
him, the Devastator turned in the opposite direction and
raced down the Scourge's central corridor.
  Rian's next burst of fire blew the hatch-frame to
smithereens milliseconds after Blorg had departed
through it. Just as the star-pirate was drgwing a bead on
the black form that zig-zagged down the corridor at
breakneck speed, Purpur, Ween, and a number of the
Taylian crew streamed into the control-center.
  "Hold it right there!" Rian bawled, freezing them all
in their tracks. "Nobody but me sets a foot out of this
place. He's mine. I'm going after old bonehead alone.
We're gonna settle this thing man to. . . monster."
  Purpur, Ween, and the others opened their mouths to
protest; but before they could, the skipper of the
Hazard bolted out of the control-center and tore down
the corridor after Blorg.
  The cat-man started after him, but Ween and three of
the crew held him back. "Let him go, Purr," Ween
said. "He's got an old score to settle. Remember,
Garthane told us he'd put the crew of this ship out of
action."
  "Who'd have believed it?" old Klegg rasped, his
voice thick with awe. "Rian's got Blorg trapped in his
own ship, while Ylang- Ylang is about to blow like an
over-stoked reactor!

  The image shuddered violently, smearing its photons
allover the face of the vidscreen, vibrating with an
intensity that tore at the optic nerve. A second later, the
screen flared with an incredible brightness that
whited-out the image and left the viewer cursing and
holding his hands to his eyes.
  Every ship in the flotilla that swung in orbit outside
Flaigon's atmosphere bucked and heaved suddenly,
pitching its occupants to the decks as the shock waves
arising from the black planet's destruction travelled out
into space in all directions.
  Riven by the League's bombardment of incalculable
megatonnage and the terrific surge of energies un-
leashed by the Fellowship of Light, and black planet
burst asunder, exploding from its very core, sending a
billion whistling fragments streaming out into the
blackness of the void. The dying world's last roar was
louder than a chorus of a million dinosaurs screaming in
unison as they experienced their last painful moments
of life in the prehistory of a thousand worlds. The frag-
ments of Flaigon zoomed like missiles past the star-
ships, a great number of them bouncing off the
spacenavy's defense-screens as well" as they went
whistling into eternity. Columns of smoke and mush-
room clouds were transformed into pennants of fire as
they streamed into space, their intense heat funneled
into the cooling blackness that surrounded the stars.
  "Sir, I got one last reading on the scanners before the
turbulence knocked the instruments out of kilter," the
tech informed Ozain after the cyclonic wave of energy
had passed and the star-ship settled back into its former
course. "One small group of stars hips appears to have
gotten off in time and made it out, and one of them was a
real big baby."
  Commander Ozain shrugged his shoulders in re-
sponse to this news. "That's no big deal," he said.
"What's a couple of star-ships, more or less, compared
to the fact that we've just blown the thing that ran the
Dark Empire to the other side of eternity?"
  He turned to the com-spec. "Try to contact the
Hazard," he ordered. "-I'm anxious to know how Red
Rian's doing."

  Whaang! Buwoom! Whaang! Phwaa! Blazing away
at each other like maniacs, blowing away housings and
partitions, fusing metal and scorching bulkheads, Rian
and Blorg played their deadly game of hide-and-seek
throughout all the levels of the Scourge. And all around
them, wherever they went-on the bridge or the
quarter-deck, in gun-compartments or torpedo rooms,
at the bow or the stern ~ the Death Legion crew sat
slumped in their seats or sprawled on the decks. . . all
dead~
  Haaass! As the laser-beams whined their death song
and flashed directly overhead, sending the three blood-
red plumes on his helmet up in crackling flames, Blorg
the Devastator shot through a hatch and thundered onto
the cat-walk of the huge vessel's engine room. Forty
feet below him, the massive reactors hl.lmmed like
sleeping beats and lit up the place like the basement of
. hell with the flickering glow that emanated from behind
their shielding. Beams and bulkheads shuddered to the
great alternations of energy that coursed from the reac-
tors and pulsed with a dull thunder as regular as the beat
of some titan's great, hammering heart.
  Halfway along the cat-walk, Blorg spun around and
went into a crouch, aiming his zappers at the hatchway
as he waited for his archenemy to enter the engine
room. Rian came in a moment later-but not in the
fashion the lord of the Ysss had anticipated. He dove
through the hatchway and somersaulted onto the cat-
walk, throwing himself to one side as soon as he got
back on his feet. Had he come through the hatchway
standing upright, Blorg's tremendous laser-fusillade
would have cut him in half.
  His hand still on the firing-button of his weapon, the
Devastator sent a hail of red rays after the star-pirate,
leaving a trail of smoke and running metal to cover the
tracks of his foe. As the deadly beams sprayed his way,
Rian ducked and rolled over twice, came up on his
stomach, braced himself with his elbows and tossed off
a withering volley of answering fire. Blorg threw him-
self to one side millisecs before Rian:' s beams cut
through the railing behind him. He screamed telepathi-
cally as droplets of molten metal burned through his
boot and seared his flesh to the bone. Dense clouds of
acrid smoke covered the area and obscured Rian from
sight. Blorg mashed his fingers against the firing-
buttons of his zappers and strafed the spot where his
enemy should have been.
  But Red Rian was no longer there. Hurling himself
against the opposite side of the cat-walk, he swung over
its railing and hung out in space, over the flaring reac-
tors below, hooking an arm around the lowest metal bar
and firing back through the smoke for all he was worth.
  "Fire and brimstone-hell and damnation!" the
star-pirate swore in a strangled voice, as his index fin-
gers beat out a frantic tattoo on the firing-buttons of his
weapons. The zappers were burnt-out! He'd fired them
so often during the chase that they had discharged.
  He scarcely had time to chuck them away and drop
down over the outside of the cat-walk, when the Devas-
tator sprayed a stream of screaming fire back at him.
Rian gripped the metal grillwork at the edge of the
cat-walk and dangled in the air as the beams lanced
overhead, splattering as they sawed through the railing
above him. Metal spluttered and hissed as it sailed past
him in fiery gobbets. Rian screamed in anguish as a
molten nugget dropped down the back of his jump-suit,
searing his flesh as it went. Freeing one hand", he man-
aged to beat out the flames that blazed in the fabric at
the small of his back.
  Whaang! Whaang! Whaang! Blorg's next volley
nearly blew the buccaneer off the cat-walk. But Rian
was able to reach out to the grillwork with his free hand
and yank himself sharply to one side, the muscles in his
arm popping with the strain of supporting the drag of his
free-swinging body.
  Just then the smoke began to clear, and Blorg was
able to locate Rian once more. He jammed his fingers
against the firing-buttons of his zappers, and started to
direct his fire downward, the laser-bolts descending in
twin verticals of fiery devastation.
  Haaass! Suddenly the weapons flared off, their
whine cut short with a strangulated scream. Tap-tap,
Tap-tap. The Devastator's fingers drummed against the
firing-buttons, tapping-out a hollow code of impatience
and frustration. Without further delay, Blorg tossed the
discharged zappers aside and rushed at the man who
hung from the cat-walk.
  With a strength born of desperation, Red Rian lunged
into the air and grasped the central pole of the guard-
rail, heaving himself up with all the force he could
muster. He planted his feet on the outside of the walk-
way, and was almost in a standing position as Blorg
approached him. The muscles in his arms cracked as he
strained to pull himself erect; his face was beet-red, and
sweat streamed down his face in rivulets.
  Death make you welcome! Blorg's mind cried out, as
he jammed his boot into the star-pirate's chest. Wump!
Rian wheezed with pain as the jack-boot slammed
against his pectorals. Die, Rian-die! Blorg screamed
over and over, in an animal rage, as he bashed his black
boot against the pirate's chest again and again.
  Huuh! Uurgh! Blackness seeped into his field of vi-
sion and welled-up before his eyes, as Rian clung des-
perately to the guardrail, staring up at his own agonized
reflection in the one-way visor of the hissing giant in
black who stomped his foot against his aching chest
with all the power at his command.
  Wump! Wump! Rian coughed explosively, spraying
flecks of blood over the gleaming visor, as the Devas-
tator's boot thundered against his chest with the impact
of a trip-hammer. Blorg's mind screamed at him in
paroxysms of inarticulate and blood-lusting fury.
Wump! Wump! And still the pirate clung to the rail,
battered almost beyond belief as the lord of the Y sss
continued to stomp away, totally possessed by the
demon of death.
  Red Rian' s mind bobbed on the tossing waves of
blackness that threatened to overwhelm his conscious-
ness as he groped desperately for a way to escape from
the hammering kicks and save his life. Finally, through
the blood and the thickening black haze, it came to him
. . . the only thing he could possibly do.
  As Blorg's boot shot between the poles of the railing
once more, Rian heaved himself to one side and re-
leased his grip on the metal bar. But just before he began
to plummet down to the hard surface of the deck forty
feet below, he wrapped his right arm around the Devas-
tator's leg and grabbed onto the top of his boot with his
left hand. Then he tensed his body, and dropped down
past the cat-walk.
  Waaa-aa-aaah! Blorg screamed horribly and wrap-
ped his four arms around the railing, as his leg snapped
with the impact of Rian' s full weight. His bones cracked
with a sound that echoed throughout the engine room,
and he nearly fainted from the shock. Struggling against
the cataract of pain that flooded his mind and broke
over the walls of his consciousness, Blorg saw Rian
heave himself up to the bottom of the cat-walk and roll
back onto its grill worked surface. The Devastator mar-
shalled all his strength and thrust himself backwards,
falling to the cat-walk with a clang of body-armor.
  Neither of the adversaries moved for several
moments, so overpowering was their pain and fatigue.
Finally, Rian rolled over and struggled to his hands and
knees, grunting and sobbing with the effort that this
simple action required. Blorg shook his head, emitted a
series of high-pitched hisses, dragged himself to the
railing, and attempted to pull himself to his feet. When
he got up, his broken leg gave way beneath him, and it
was all he could do to brace his back against the rail and
" hold himself up.
  As soon as Rian was on his feet again, he launched
himself at the Devastator in a bone-cracking body-
block. Thump! Blorg's other leg gave way; he whipped
his four arms around the railing to prevent himself from
falling, and hung there in a cruciform position. Blong!
Rian leaned forward and spun around on one foot,
raising his other high in the air and using it to deliver a
smashing keedo kick to the side of his enemy's head.
  The force of the kick sent Blorg's head straight back,
and thrust him upright against the guard-rail. Blong!
Before the Devastator could sag again, the buccaneer
followed-up with another kick to the head this one even
harder than the first. Blorg's four anns left the rail and
flailed the air convulsively, 'as his great frame teetered
at the edge of the cat walk. His breath whistled out in a
gurgling hiss, and his head hung limply to one side,
borne down by the weight of the scorched helmet that
covered it.
  "Now, youfaceless, bone-headed, filthy bag ofkag-
skrit ," Rian roared, as he kicked off from the far side of
the cat-walk and hurtled toward Blorg with all the
strength left in his body, hiss your way into the bowels
of hell! He shot across the intervening space like a hot
rocket, aiming himself at the Devastator's chest.
  Wump! Rian smacked into Blorg at high-speed, the
r.esounding thump of his impact followed by the sharp,
snapping sound of reptiloid bones cracking. As he
bounced off the Devastator's breatplate, the star-pirate
saw Blorg's torso jerk sidewise atan impossible angle,
indicating to him that the lord of the Ysss had a broken
spine. An instant later, all four arms clawing at the
empty air, the black-annored giant pitched backwards
and disappeared from sight with a whistling hiss.
  AAA-A-A-A-A-AAAH! Blorg's telepathic scream
diminished in volume as his body hurtled to the deck of
the engine room. KERBLONK! A thunderous clatter of
body-armor greeted the skipper of the Hazard's ears as
he tottered over to the guard-rail. He took a deep
breath, and looked over. And there below him, forty
feet down on the deck, the lord of the Ysss lay flat on his
back, thrashing and flailing like a crippJed black crab.
  Rian hauled himself over the railing and stood on the
outside of the cat-walk, staring down at his fallen
enemy. Then, he moved three steps to his left, lining
himselfup with the body below. After hesitating a single
moment to squint down and calculate the distance be-
tween himself and Blorg, he jumped off the cat-walk-
straight down at the Devastator!
  WUMP! Feet first, Rian landed four-square on the
center of Blorg's chest! He catapulted off the body and
rolled over on the deck, lying on his back for several
moments before he was able to rise again. Only the
pulsing of the Scourge's huge reactors could be heard;
and the room was bathed in their bright, flickering light
as the star-pirate dragged himself to his f~et and
staggered over to the side of the lord of the Y sss.
  Blood ran down the sides of the one-way visor, and
gushed from beneath the bottom of the dented black
helmet. As Rian reached down to his belt and un-
sheathed a long, gleaming knife, Blorg raised one hand
in feeble protest, hissing a strangulated hiss that gurgled
up through the blood in his mouth.
  Through the blood-spattered screen of his visor,
Blorg saw the pirate towering above him, death' s signa-
ture in his eyes. The blade of the thin, sharp knife
reflected the red glare of the reactors as Rian slowly
raised it in the air. Blorg's twenty fingers twitched
spasmodically, but the rest of his great form was still.
Suddenly, the star-pirate shook his head and sheathed
the knife. Through the dark haze that began to obscure
his vision, Blorg saw that Rian, beneath those eyes as
cold as the grave, was grinning his insolent grin.
  "Cutting your guts out would be too easy, Blorg,"
the star-pirate said, in a soft, even voice "You haven't
got much longer to live. This way, you'll have some-
thing to think about before you slide down the long, hot
chute to perdition. Think about this: about Urgel, the
world you irradiated. . . and my wife and children. . .
and all the other billions you wiped out on that dark day.
  "And finally, think about me, your old pal, Red Rian
. , , the man who paid for your ticket to hell." The
pirate straightened up, clicked his heels together,
and-grinning wickedly all the while-tossed off a
smart salute at his dying enemy. After that, he leaned
over and pried off the Devastator's helmet. Rian winced
as he saw the bony, reptilian face, covered with blood
and wide-eyed with pain. It was the first time he'd ever
seen Blorg's features. The Ysss do not allow them-
selves to be looked upon by any of the lesser races, as
they call all other higher life-forms; only in death are
their faces ever seen.
  "You're even uglier than 1 thought," Rian muttered
as he straightened up. He tucked Blorg's helmet under
his arm and patted it. "I think I'lljust keep this tin pot,"
the buccaneer said, ''as a remembrance of our friend-
ship." He grinned wickedly at the lord of the Y sss once
more, and winked at him. "Have a nice trip, Blorg," he
said quietly, Then the skipper of the Hazard turned on
his heel, went up the cat-walk ladder, and left the engine
room without so much as a backward glance,
  The crew of the Hazard broke out into wild cheering
as their skipper limped back into the Scourge's
control-center. "He'll never bother anyone again,"
Red Rian said grimly, when things had quieted down.
"Not in this life." He smiled, "I sent him regards from
Urgel, and gave him a few things to think about before
he conks out," The crew cheered again, even louder
than before,
  "Skipper," old Klegg said, after the din had sub-
sided, "shall we back-up the reactors, and blow this tub
to smithereens?"
  The star-pirate shook his head. "No. Let it be. Let it
drift in space. . . as Blorg's mausoleum. 1 want them all
to see what happened to him. C'mon, let's get out of
here!"
  Quaarg gasped as he realized what the enemy had
done. Flaigon had been blown into nothingness-into
infinitesimal particles that would drift aimlessly in the
void for the rest of eternity.
  Suddenly, his attention was diverted as he saw the
images of several starships on the vidscreen. There! he
informed the being at his side. Those ships -we've got
to pick them up!
  The incomprehensible entity nodded and spoke in a
voice that chilled him to the marrow of his bones. "Yes,
we will do that. . . and send those bright ships on their
way."
  Quaarg looked from the great spaceforce gathered in
the distance to the eerie creature in the seat beside him.
But they greatly outnumber your fleet! he exclaimed.
How will you do such a thing?
  "You shall see," came the reply. . .

  Garthane watched the Hazard's screens as a wave of
League ships detached themselves from the main force
and streaked out to intercept the unidentified spacefleet
that had just arrived on the scene. And a moment later,
he gaped with astonishment as waves of energy rose up
from the dark heart of the Infinite and dashed those
ships to pieces.
  Order your starships to pull back, Commander
alain, he telepathed, as Rian, Purpur and Ween gaped
beside him.] don't know who or what those cr.eatures
are, but they appear to have powers of mind at least the
equal of the Fellowship's.
  "I don't believe it," Red Riansaid in a thick voice, "I
don't believe it."
  My people are exhaustedfrom the attack on Flaigon,
the High Master continued. We're in no shape to con-
tend with these intruders now. Call your ships back,
Ozain. Sound the retreat.

  You are mighty indeed, my lord, Quaarg telepathed,
bowing low to the strange being who stood before him.
Great above all mortals.
  Pick up the survivors in the dark ships, the being
thought, smiling at the reptiloid's homage as he entered
into contact with his fellows in the starfleet behind the
Malice. The first priority is the huge vessel at their
head.
  My lord, Quaarg told him as he came out of his bow,
that is the Scourge up ahead, and it contains the em-
peror' sfavorite. It appears to be stalled. 1 request your
permission to investigate.
  As you wish," the being replied. . .

  At the same time that the League's force streaked
into hyperspace, the enormous space-armada that
raced toward" Primula received the news of the destruc-
tion of Plaigon and the Dark Emperor's death.
  By the serpent's tooth! the leader of the great force
exclaimed in the control-center of his flagship. They
have destroyed immortal Ylang itself! Once the news of
this catastrophe spreads throughout the empire. all the
captive worlds will be up in arms!
  The Ysss overlords who were gathered around him
all shook their heads in agreement and hissed their
concern. The unthinkable had happened. The Dark
Empire had just been shaken to its very foundation.
And the future was up for grabs.
  Give the order to turn these ships around, the High
Admiral told his subordinates. The invasion of Primula
will not take place. We're going back at once. . .


                      Chapter 12
             Awakenigs And Prophecies


  In the engine room of the Scourge, Quaarg squatted on
his haunches and gazed at the broken body of Blorg the
Devastator. May Death welcome the great Blorg, he
intoned mentally, rocking back and forth on hi~ heels.
All the people of the serpent in all the realms of the Dark
Empire will mourn his passing.
  Blorg gurgled weakly in response to the young
reptiloid's sarcasm. Let me tell you the news before you
go forth on the darkjourney, my Lord, Quaarg continued
blithely. Flaigon exists no more, but Ylang- Ylang lives.
Moments before the black planet was destroyed, the
emperor funneled its energies into a Mordling starship
and launched itself into space through a passage cut
out of the living rock, carved ages ago for just such a
purpose. The beings from the unconquered galaxy have
rescued the Devourer and scattered the forces of the
League and the Fellowship like chaffin the wind. They
are about to return home,. there they will harbor the
emperor until the affairs of state have been stabilized.
  Blorg's hisses were barely audible now, and his eyes
began to glaze as the life-force ebbed out of his body.
The emperor sent wordfor me to bring you to him, Lord
Blorg. I have no idea why. Quaarg shook his head
slowly. Unless it is to witness your last agonies and
savor the moment of your death. He looked up as the
footsteps of the med-techs sounded on the cat-walk
above.
  Before I leave you, My lord, Quaarg told Blorg
mockingly, I have one last piece of news from the realm
of the living. Ylang-Ylang has already chosen your
successor, he lied. In a few moments, there will be a
new steward of the Dark Empire, a new lord of all the
Ysss. Would you like to know who that shall be? he
asked archingly, making the most of this last bit of
information.
  sss-s-s-sss . . . Blorg's only reply was a faint whisper
of a hiss.
  He stands before you now, Blorg,filling your vision
as you die. His name is Quaarg.
  Blorg reached out feebly with his upper right hand, in
an attempt to grasp Quaarg by the throat, but ended up
clawing only the air between them. A moment later, his
arm dropped back to the deck and his entire body
wracked by a series of convulsions.
  Goodbye forever, Blorg the Devastator, were
Quaarg's last thoughts as he left the engine room of the
Scourge. . .

  When the good ship Hazard touched down at Libera,
captial city of Aurea Solis, it met with a reception
unequalled in the long history of the Primula galaxy.
And the celebration that followed lasted, day and night,
for a full week. The only thing capable of ending the
festivities, it seemed, was Garthane's sobering address
to the allies, simulcast to all the inhabited worlds of
Primula and Taylos.
  The High Master spoke from the great hall in Libera,
w here the high command of the league had assembled to
hear him. The speaker's platform was flooded with light
as Garthane approached it, and an Army of broadcast
technicians clustered around the dais, completing their
preparations for the speech. When he reached the plat-
form, Garthane raised his arms and cut short the thun-
derous applause.
  "Brothers and sisters of the Primula and Taylos
galaxies," he began, in a loud and authoritative voice,
his penetrating grey eyes staring directly into the vi-
dcams, "all things are one. Infinity is at the heart of all
things."
  Nila and Red Rian sat up in their seats when they
noticed the severe expression on the High Master's
face. Ween Leever gulped, and Purpur leaned forward
in his seat, cat's-ears cocked in the direction of the dais.
  "It is not over yet," the leader of the Fellowship of
Light told the billions who watched him in both
galaxies. "Granted that Flaigon no longer exists, and
the Blorg the Devastator was broken at the hand of Red
Rian of Urgel; granted that rebellion is rising through-
out the Dark Empire, and that the imperial forces are
panicked beyond imagining. . . but the hardest battle is
still to come."
  The great hall was now as silent as a graveyard in the
deep of night. "We have been monitoring imperial
communications, and have received disquieting news.
Ylang- Ylang lives." Groans of disbelief and cries of
wonder went up throughout the hall. Garthane held his
hands up for silence once again.
  "The Dark Emperor was rescued by the strange and
unknown beings our invasion force encountered after
the bombardment of Flaigon. Whatever these creatures
may be, they are immensely powerful, and appear to be
the possessors of powers of mind that might well be
greater than those of the Fellowship of Light. In my
opinion, they are incredibly dangerous. . . and they
seem to be allied to the Dark Emperor." As Garthane
paused, every soul in the place held his breath.
  "We must take these mysterious intruders into ac-
count in all our future plans," he went on. "And we
must also do our utmost to support and encourage re-
bellion throughout the Dark Empire. I do not wish to
discourage you," the High Master said gently, "but the
worst is yet to come. So keep faith with the forces of
life, and grow stronger as you prepare to strike another
blow for the freedom of the star-seas."
  He smiled serenely at his vast audience. "We shall
win. . . we must win. May the Infinite bless you all."
  As Garthane left the dais to the cheers and applause
that signalled the League's renewed determination to
oppose the Dark Emperor and all his works of evil, Red
Rian leaned over and whispered in Nila's ear, nuzzling
the nape of her neck as he did. "Well, babe," he said,
"at least we don't have to worry about old bone'head
any more."
  Nila turned to the star-pirate and patted him on his
bearded cheek. "My father would be glad to hear
that," she whispered back, leaning toward him and
putting her lips to his ear. "And Dann will be too, when
he gets back."
  Then she smiled, and whispered in Red Rian's ear
once more. "And if you don't stop smooching me in
public," she said, still smiling, "I'm going to haul off
and punch you right in the nose.'.'
  Rian's reply was inaudible, due to the volume'ofthe
cheers in the great hall, but the expression of surprise
on his face could be made out for several hundred
yards.

  Dreams and whispering voices, soft, concerned
murmurs and the touch of gentle hands, blazing lights
and the impersonal hum of surgical equipment, flashes
of pain and the explosive feed-back of tormented
nerve-ends, rushing winds and muted roars, shudders
and jolts, the rustling of bedsheets and the crisp, clean
smell of fresh linen. . .
  These were the principal components of the timeless,
drifting montage of impressions that Dann Oryzon
brought back to waking reality as he regained con-
sciousness for the first time in more than three weeks.
They grey dream had dissipated like mornings fog on
the heart of the Western Sea, and the sweet, clear light
of day greeted him with all the tenderness a mother
displays upon the return of a long-lost son.
  He fluttered his eyes rapidly, and then squinted, nar-
rowing his eyelids to mere slits as he attempted to
resolve the blurred shapes before him into sharp-focus.
When he finally did, he saw Altektu and D-Anacom
standing at the foot of his bed, their eyes glowing like
diamonds in the green perm a-flesh setting of their beau-
tiful faces.
  " Al . . . D-Ana," he croaked, with the voice of
someone who had not spoken for a long time, "where
am I?"
  "At Astyx," D-Ana replied softly.
  "What happened. . . to me?"He struggled to sit up.
"Garthane . . . Nila . . . Rian ... "
  The soft machines came to the side (if the bed, and
gently settled him back on his pillows. "They are all
right," Altektu told him. "Everyone's all ri~ht. When
you're feeling a little stronger, we'll tell you the whole
story."
  Dann closed his eyes and took a deep breath before
speaking again. "I remember. . . something," he said
haltingly, as he struggled to salvage a cluster of impres-
sions from the broad ocean of delirium out of which
he had just emerged. "Soft hands.~. ..soft, murmuring
voice. . . fragrance of flowers. . . someone calling to
me...
  The android couple smiled down at him, nodding
their heads as they did.
  "Who else. . . was here?" Dann asked.
  D-Ana stroked his hair. He felt her cool fingers brush
his forehead.
  "She'll be here in a moment," Altektu replied.

  It was the first time in aeons that Ylang- Ylang had
been anybody's guest, and the Devourer rumbled and
flickered darkly in its discomfort. Outside the great
structure that had been specially constructed to house
the pulsating field of corrupt energies that was the Dark
Emperor, Quaarg the Destroyer paced up and down
nervously in a state of high anxiety, awaiting the results
of Ylang- Ylang's interview with the masters of the
strange and dreadful place that was its temporary resi-
dence.
  Inside the vast, gloomy chamber, the Devourer's
powerful hosts stood before it in a huge arc and stared
full into the center of its vile and int~nse energies with
uncovered eyes. And those white, fearsome eyes had
neither iris nor pupil, but merely presented a solid field
of milky white as their possessors gazed unharmed at
Ylang's searing and infernal brilliance.
  "Why should we intervene to save the great toy you
call your empire?" the leader of these entities asked,
stepping forward from the center of the arc and boldly
addressing the immortal thing that had once been a
Mordling. "You have nothing we want. . . nor need."
  There you are mistaken, the Devourer boomed, the
music of its thoughts orchestrating into a dark, sweep-
ing symphony of power and seduction. I have one thing
to offer you, my lords. . . the one thing in all the
universe that you can never acquire by your own pow-
ers,formidable as they are.
  "And what might that one thing be, Ylang-Ylang?"
  The Lord of Life and Death banked its energies low,
throwing the vast space into murk and shadows as it
did, compressing its mass into a cloud of luminous
blackness as dark as the heart of midnight or the secrets
of the grave.
  The power to defy time, Ylang purred, sending out a
stream of vaporous black tendrils to lap at the feet of its
hosts. The power to gaze out over the seas of eternity
and catch sight of the far shores of infinity. . . The gift
ofimmortality!
  The Devourer's hosts exchanged startled looks and
whispered among themselves. When they fell silent,
their leader addressed the star-tyrant again. "You have
offered us the one thing we do not possess. The offer
interests us. We shall withdraw to discuss this matter
more fully, and then we will return and give you our
answer."
  Yes-s-sss, yes-s-sss, do that, my gracious lords, the
Devourer replied, hissing like the great serpent that
guards the Tree of Life. Discuss-s-sss it. Think about it
  Quaarg sprang to his feet as the lords of the strange
place filed out of the great chamber. They ignored his
presence when they passed and, since he was beneath
their notice, spoke freely among themselves as they
departed.
  "But if we choose to become immortal," Quaarg
overheard one of them say with a note of revulsion in his
voice, "must we be transformed into a thing such as
that?"
  "I think not," their leader replied, still within earshot
of the repitloid. "Should we decide to accept Ylang's
offer, I shall see to it that we introduce a few
modifications of our own into the process."
  Haaass! Quaarg shuddered when he came out of his
bow, and hissed with awe. Strange and dreadful things
would soon come to pass; he was convinced of that.
And in a short span of time, he was sure that he would
witness the birth of a new generation of gods.
  In its guest-room, its makeshift lair, the Great De-
vourer rumbled and thundered with dark contentment
as it dove into the lightless sea of ecstasy. I have them,
Ylang gloated. I have these high and mighty Lords fast
on the hook of desire and overweening ambition. I have
Qffered them the one thin!? the)! want above all other
things. I have made them the offer they cannot
refuse. . .
  The chamber was almost totally dark. as the Uevourer
plumbed the depths of its foul extasis. Ylang was con-
tent. The great insult would soon be avenged in a tidal
wave of blood and fire. The League of Free Worlds
would be obliterated from living memory.. . . and the
audacious manniken, Garthane, along with the rest of
those purple-cowled little lumps of excrement, would
be punished with an attendant horror and torment that
would shake the living universe to its heart.
  Ylang- Ylang burbled fearfully as it sank deeper into
the devouring mouth of its self-created oblivion. Let
them discuss, it thought contentedly. Let them ponder.
I am safe and secure in this place.. and I have the time
and patience to wait. After all, what is time to the
immortal?