The Star Kings

Chapter XXIV. Storm Over Throon

GORDON uttered an involuntary exclamation of dismayed amazement. “Jhal, no. I can't wield the rule of the Empire, even for a short time.”

Jhal Arn had already made a feeble gesture of dismissal to the technicians. They had quickly switched off the stereo apparatus as he finished speaking, and were now withdrawing.

At Gordon's protest, Jhal Arn turned his deathly-white face and answered in an earnest whisper.

“Zarth, you must act for me. In this moment of crisis when the Cloud darkens across the galaxy, the Empire cannot be left without a leader.”

Zora, his wife, seconded the appeal to Gordon. “You're of the royal house. You alone can command allegiance now.”

Gordon's mind whirled. What was he to do? Refuse and finally reveal to them the unguessed truth of his identity and his involuntary imposture?

He couldn't do that now. It would leave the Empire without a head, would leave all its people and its allies confused and bewildered, would make them imminent prey for the attack of the Cloud.

But on the other hand, how could he carry out the role when he was still so ignorant of this universe? And how then could he get away to Earth to contact the real Zarth Arn across time? “You have been proclaimed regent to the Empire and it is impossible to retract that now,” said Jhal Arn, in a weak whisper.

Gordon's heart sank. It was impossible to retract that proclamation without throwing the Empire into even deeper confusion. There was only one course open to him. He would have to occupy the regency until he could slip away to Earth as he'd planned. When they had re-exchanged bodies, real Zarth could come back to be regent. “I'll do my best, then,” Gordon faltered. “But if I blundered-”

“You won't,” Jhal Arn whispered. “I trust everything in your hands, Zarth.”

He sank back on his pillow, a spasm of pain crossing his white face. Hastily, Zora called the physicians.

The physicians waved them all from the room. “The emperor must not exert himself further or we will not answer for the consequences.”

In the splendid outer rooms, Gordon found Lianna at his side. He looked at her shakenly.

“Lianna, how can I lead the Empire and hold the star kings' allegiance, as Jhal would have done?”

“Why can't you?” she flashed. “Aren't you son of Arn Abbas, of the mightiest line of rulers in the galaxy?”

He wanted to cry to her that he was not, that he was only John Gordon of ancient Earth, utterly unfit for such vast responsibility.

He couldn't. He was still caught in the web that had bound him since first-how long ago it seemed. He had for adventure's sake entered his pact across time with Zarth Arn. He still had to play out the role until he could regain his own identity.

Lianna imperiously waved aside the chamberlains and officials who already were swarming around him.

“Prince Zarth is exhausted. You will have to wait until morning.”

Gordon indeed felt drunk with exhaustion, his feet stumbling as he went with Lianna up through the palace to his own old apartment.

She left him there. “Try to sleep, Zarth. You'll have the whole weight of the Empire on you tomorrow.”

Gordon had thought he could not possibly sleep, but he was no sooner in bed than drugged slumber overcame him.

He awoke the next morning to find Hull Burrel beside him. The big Antarian looked at him a little uncertainly.

“Princess Lianna suggested that I act as your aide, highness.”

Gordon felt relieved. He needed someone he could trust, and he had a strong liking for this big, bluff captain.

“Hull, that's the best idea yet. You know I've never been trained for rule. There's so much that I ought to know, and don't.”

The Antarian shook his head. “I hate to tell you, but things are piling up fast for you to decide. The envoys of the southern star-kingdoms ask another audience. Vice-commander Giron has called twice in the last hour from the fleet, to talk to you.”

Gordon tried to think, as he quickly dressed. “Hull, is Giron a good officer?”

“One of the best,” the Antarian,” said promptly. “A hard disciplinarian but a fine strategist.”

“Then,” Gordon said, “we'll leave him in command of the fleet. I'll talk to him shortly.”

He had to nerve himself for the ordeal of walking down with his new aide through the palace, of replying to bows, of playing this part of regent-ruler.

He found Tu Shal and the other star-kingdom envoys awaiting him in the little study that was the nerve-center of Empire government.

“Prince Zarth, all our kingdoms regret the dastardly attack on your brother,” said the Polarian. “But this will not prevent your demonstrating the Disruptor for us as your brother agreed?”

Gordon was appalled. In the whirl of the night's events, he had almost forgotten that promise.

He tried to evade the question. “My brother is badly stricken, as you know. He is unable to carry out his promise.”

The Hercules envoy said quickly, “But you know how to wield the Disruptor, Prince Zarth. You could carry out the demonstration.”

That was the devil of it, Gordon thought dismayedly. He didn't know the details of the Disruptor. He had learned something from Jhal Arn of how the apparatus was operated, but he still hadn't any idea of just what that mysterious, terrible force could do.

“I have heavy duties as regent of the Empire while my brother is helpless, and I may have to postpone that demonstration for a little while,” he told them.

Tu Shal's face grew grave. “Highness, you must not. I tell you that failure to give us this reassurance would strengthen the arguments of those who claim the Disruptor is too dangerous to use. It would turn the wavering parties in our kingdoms toward deserting the Empire.”

Gordon felt trapped. He couldn't let the Empire's vital allies desert. Yet how could he wield the Disruptor?

He might be able to learn more from Jhal Arn about it, he thought desperately. Enough so that he could try to wield the Disruptor in at least this demonstration?

He made his voice stern, determined. “The demonstration will be made at the first possible moment. This is all can say.”

It did not satisfy the worried envoys, he could see. They looked furtively at each other.

“I will report that to the Barons,” said the chubby envoy of Hercules Cluster. The others bowed also, and left.

Hull Burrel gave him no time to reflect on the pressure that this new complication put upon him.

“Vice-Commander Giron on the stereo now, highness Shall I put him through?”

When, a moment later, the image of the Empire naval commander appeared on the stereo-plate, Gordon saw that the towering Centaurian veteran was deeply perturbed.

“Prince Zarth, I wish first to know if I am to remain in command of the fleet or if a new commander is being sent out?”

“You're appointed full Commander, subject only to review by my brother when he resumes his duties,” Gordon said promptly.

Giron showed no elation. “I thank you, highness. But if I am to command the fleet, the situation has reached the point where I must have political information on which to base my strategic plans.”

“What do you mean? What is the situation to which you refer?” Gordon asked.

“Our long-range radar has detected very heavy fleet-movements inside the Cloud,” was the sharp answer. “At least four powerful armadas have left their bases in there and are cruising just inside the northern borders of the Cloud.”

Giron added, “This suggests strongly that the League of Dark Worlds is planning a surprise attack on us in at least two different directions. In view of that possibility, it is imperative that I make my own fleet dispositions quickly.” He flashed on the familiar stereo-map of the galaxy's great swarm of stars, with its zones of colored light that represented the Mid-Galactic Empire and the star-kingdoms, “I've got my main forces strung in three divisions on a line here between Rigel and Orion Nebula, each division self-sufficient in battleships, cruisers, phantoms-and so on. The Fomalhaut contingent is incorporated in our first division.

“This is our prearranged defense plan, but it counts on the Hercules Barons' and the Polaris Kingdom's fleets resisting any attempt to invade through their realms. It also counts on the Lyra, Cygnus and Cassiopeia fleets joining us immediately when we flash the “ready" signal. But are they going to fulfill their engagements? I must know if the allied Kingdoms are going to stand with us, before I make my dispositions.”

Gordon realized the tremendous gravity of the problem that faced Commander Giron far away in that southern void.

“Then you have already sent the “ready” signal to the allied Kingdoms?” he asked.

“I took that responsibility two hours ago, in view of the alarming League fleet movements inside the Cloud,” was Giron's curt answer. “So far, I have had no reply from the star-kingdoms.”

Gordon sensed the crucial nature of the moment. “Give me twenty-four more hours, Commander,” he asked desperately. “I'll try in that time to get positive commitments from the Barons and the Kingdoms.”

“In the meantime, our position here is vulnerable,” rasped the Commander. “I suggest that until we are certain of the Kingdoms' allegiance, we should shift our main forces westward toward Rigel to be in position to counter any stroke through Hercules and Polaris.”

Gordon nodded quickly. “I leave that decision entirely in your hands. I'll contact you the moment that I have positive news.”

Hull Burrel looked at him soberly, as the image of the Commander saluted and vanished.

“Prince Zarth, you'll not get the Kingdoms to stand by their alliance unless you prove to them we can wield the Disruptor!”

“I know,” Gordon muttered. He came to a decision. “I'm going to see if my brother can talk to me.”

He realized now that as the Antarian had said, only a clear demonstration of the Disruptor would hold the wavering Kingdoms.

Could he dare try to wield that mysterious force? He knew something of its operations from what Jhal Arn had explained, but that something was not enough. If he could only learn more.

The physicians were worried and discouraging when he went to Jhal Arn's apartments.

“Prince Zarth, he's under drugs and is not able to talk to anyone. It would strain his strength-”

“I must see him!” Gordon insisted. “The situation demands it.”

He finally had his way but they warned him, “A few minutes is all we can allow, or we must reject all responsibility for whatever may happen.”

Jhal Arn opened drugged, hazed eyes when Gordon bent over him. It took him moments to realize what Gordon was saying.

“Jhal, you must try to understand and answer me!” Gordon begged. “I've got to know more about the operation of the Disruptor. You know I told you how Shorr Kan's brain-scanner made me forget.”

Jhal Arn's voice was a drowsy murmur. “Strange, it made you forget like that. I thought none of us would ever forget, the way every detail was drilled into us when we were boys.”

His whisper trailed weakly, sleepily. “You'll remember it all when you have to, Zarth. The force-cones to be mounted on your ship's prow in a fifty-foot circle, the cables to the transformer follow to the binding-posts of the same color, the power-leads to the generators.”

His murmur became so faint that Gordon had to bend his head close. “Get an exact radar fix on the center of your target area. Balance the directional thrust of the cones by the gauges. Only switch in the release when all six directional thrusts are balanced-”

His voice dribbled slowly away, weaker and weaker until it was inaudible. Gordon desperately tried to arouse him.

“Jhal, don't go out on me I I've got to know more than that.”

But Jhal Arn had subsided into a drugged slumber from which he could not be awakened.

Gordon ran it all over in his mind. He knew a little more than he had before.

The procedure of operating the Disruptor was clear. But that wasn't enough. It was like giving a savage of his own time a pistol and telling him how to pull the trigger. The savage might hold the pistol's muzzle in his own face as he pulled that trigger.

“But I've got to pretend at least that I'm going to demonstrate the thing,” Gordon thought tensely. “That may hold the envoys of the Kingdoms until I can learn more from Jhal Arn.”

He went down with Hull Burrel to that deep-buried level of the palace in which lay the Chamber of the Disruptor.

The Antarian could not enter that corridor of deadly force that was tuned to blast every living being but Jhal Arn and himself. Gordon went in alone, and brought back the brackets for mounting the force-cones.

Hull Burrel looked even at these simple brackets in awe as they took them up through the palace.

By tubeway, he and Hull Burrel sped to the naval spaceport outside Throon. Val Marlann and his men were waiting by the great grim bulk of the Ethne.

Gordon handed over the brackets. “These are to be mounted on the prow of the Ethne so that they will form a circle exactly fifty feet in diameter. You'll also make provision for a heavy power connection to the main drive-generators.”

Val Marlann's swarthy face stiffened. “You're going to use the Disruptor from the Ethne, highness?” he said excitedly.

Gordon nodded. “Have your technicians start installing these brackets immediately.”

He used the ship's stereo to call Tu Shal the envoy of Polaris Kingdom.

“I you can see, Tu Shal, we are preparing to make the demonstration of the Disruptor. It will take place as soon as possible,” Gordon told the ambassador, with assumed confidence.

Tu Shal's troubled face did not lighten. “It should be quickly, highness. Every capital in the galaxy is badly disturbed by rumors of the movements of Cloud fleets.”

Gordon felt almost hopeless, as he sped back to the palace. He couldn't stall like this much longer. And with Jhal Arn still comatose, he couldn't learn more about the Disruptor now.

As night fell, thunder grumbled over the great palace of Throon from an electric storm moving in from the sea. When Gordon went wearily up to his apartments, he glimpsed violet flares of lightning outside its windows, eerily illumining the looming Glass Mountains.

Lianna was waiting for him there. She greeted him anxiously.

“Zarth, terrifying rumors of impending League attack are being whispered through the palace. It is to be war?”

“Shorr Kan may only be bluffing,” he said numbly. “If only things hold off, until-”

He had almost said, until he could get to Earth and re-exchange bodies so the real Zarth could return to bear this fearful responsibility.

“Until Jhal recovers?” Lianna said, misunderstanding. Her face softened. “Zarth, I know the terrible strain all this is to you. But you're proving that you're Arn Abbas' son!”

He wanted to take her into his arms, to bury his face against her cheek. Some of that must have showed in his face, for Lianna's eyes widened a little.

“Zarth!” said an eager feminine voice.

He and Lianna both turned sharply. Gordon immediately recognized the lovely, dark-haired woman who had entered his rooms.

“Murn!” he exclaimed.

He had almost forgotten this woman who was the real Zarth Arn's secret wife, and whom the real Zarth loved.

Amazement, then incredulity, crossed her face as she looked at Lianna, “Princess Lianna here! I did not dream-”

Lianna said quietly, “There need be no pretense between us three. I know quite well that Zarth Arn loves you, Murn.”

Murn colored. She said uncertainly, “I would not have come if I had known-”

“You have more right here than I have,” Lianna said calmly. “I shall go.”

Gordon made a movement to detain her, but she was already leaving the room.

Murn came toward him and looked up at him anxiously with soft, dark eyes.

“Zarth, before you left Throon you said you, would be different when you returned, that all would be with us as before.”

“Murn, you will only have to wait a little longer,” he told her. “Then all will be as before, I promise you.”

“I still cannot understand,” she murmured troubledly. “But I'm happy you're cleared of that awful crime, that you've returned.”

She looked at him again with that queer shyness as she left. He knew that Murn still sensed a strangeness about him.

Gordon lay in his bed, and in his mind Lianna, Murn, Jhal Arn and the Disruptor all spun chaotically before he finally slept.

He had slept but two hours when an excited voice awoke him. The storm had broken in full fury upon Throon. Blinding lightning danced continuously over the city, and thunder was bellowing deafeningly.

Hull Burrel was shaking him, and the Antarian's craggy face was dark and taut with excitement.

“The devil's to pay, highness!” he said. “The Cloud's fleets have come out and crossed our frontier. There's already hard cruiser-fighting beyond Rigel, ships are snuffing out by the scores, and Giron reports that two League fleets are heading toward Hercules.”