The Star Kings

Chapter VIII. The Spy from the Cloud

GORDON was temporarily delivered from his impasse of bewilderment by a providential interruption. It came from a chamberlain who hesitantly emerged onto the terrace.

“Highness, your father requests you and the Princess Lianna to come to the tower-suite,” he told Gordon, bowing.

Gordon seized upon the chance to evade further discussion. He said awkwardly, “We had better go at once, Lianna. It may be important.”

Lianna remained looking at him with steady gaze, as though expecting him to say more. But he didn't.

He couldn't. He couldn't tell her that he loved her, only to have the real Zarth Arn come back and deny it.

She was silent as they followed the chamberlain by gliding ramps up to the highest tower of the palace. Here were rooms whose glass walls looked out over all the shimmering towers of Throon and the stupendous encircling panorama of glassy peaks and sea.

Arn Abbas was restlessly pacing the room, a giant, dominating figure. The thin-faced Chief Councilor, Orth Bodmer, was speaking to him, and Jhal Arn was also present.

“Zarth, this matter concerns you and Lianna both,” Arn Abbas greeted them.

He explained curtly. “The crisis between us and the League is deepening. Shorr Kan has called all League starships home to the Cloud. And now I'm afraid the Hercules Barons are wavering toward him.”

Gordon quickly recalled the lukewarm attitude of Zu Rizal and the other Hercules Baron the night before.

Arn Abbas' massive face was dark. “I sounded Zu Rizal last night after the Feast. He said the Barons couldn't commit themselves to full alliance with the Empire. They're worried by persistent rumors to the effect that Shorr Kan has some powerful new weapon.

“I believe, though, that Zu Rizal doesn't represent the feelings of all the Barons. They may be doubtful but they don't want to see the Cloud conquer. I think they can be brought into full alliance with the Empire. And I'm going to send you to accomplish that, Zarth.”

“Send me?” Gordon exclaimed, startled. “But I couldn't carry out a mission like that.”

“Who could carry it out better, highness?” Orth Bodmer said earnestly to him. “As the emperor's own son, your prestige would make you a potent ambassador.”

“We're not going to argue about it-you're going whether you like it or not!” snapped Arn Abbas.

Gordon was swept off his feet. He to act as ambassador to the great star lords of Hercules Cluster? How could he?

Then he saw a chance in this. Once in space on that mission, he might manage to touch at Earth and would then be able to re-exchange bodies with the real Zarth Arn. If he could do that – “This means,” Arn Abbas was saying, “that your marriage to Lianna must take place sooner than we planned. You must leave for Hercules in a week. I shall announce that your marriage to Lianna will be solemnized five days from now.”

Gordon felt as though he had suddenly stepped through a trapdoor into an abyss.

He had assumed that this marriage lay so far in the future he didn't need to worry about it. Now his assumption was wrecked.

He desperately voiced protest. “But is it necessary for us to hold the marriage before I go to Hercules as an ambassador?”

“Of course it is!” declared Arn Abbas. “It's vital to hold the western star-kingdoms to us. And as husband of the princess of Fomalhaut Kingdom, you'll carry more weight with the Barons.”

Lianna looked at Gordon with that curiously steady gaze and said, “Perhaps Prince Zarth has some objection?”

“Objection? What the devil objection could he have?” demanded Arn Abbas.

Gordon realized that open resistance would do him no good. He had to stall for time, as he had been doing since he was first flung into this involuntary impersonation.

He'd surely find a way somehow to dodge this nightmare complication. But he'd have to have time to think.

He said lamely, “Of course it's all right with me if Lianna approves.”

“Then it's settled,” said Arn Abbas. “It's short notice but the star-kings can get here in time for the ceremony. Bodmer and I will frame the announcement now.”

That was a dismissal, and they left the room. Gordon was glad that Jhal Arn came with them, for the last thing he wanted at this moment was to face Lianna's clear, questioning eyes.

The next few days seemed utterly unreal to Gordon. All the palace, all the city Throon, hummed with activity of preparations. Hosts of servants were busy, and each day swift star-ships arrived with guests from the more distant parts of the Empire and the allied kingdoms.

Gordon was at least relieved that he hardly saw Lianna in this hectic time except at the magnificent feasts that celebrated the coming event. Nor had he seen Murn, except at a distance. But time was running out and he had not found any way out of this fantastic impasse.

He couldn't tell them the truth about himself. That would break his solemn promise to Zarth Arn. But then what was he to do? He racked his brain, but on the eve of the appointed day he still had found no solution.

That night in the Hall of Stars was held the great reception for the royal and noble guests who had come from far across the galaxy for the wedding. The scene was one of staggering splendor.

Gordon and Lianna stood on the raised reception-dais, with Arn Abbas' giant figure on one side of them and Jhal Arn and his beautiful wife Zora on the other. Behind them were Commander Corbulo and Orth Bodmer and the other highest officials of the Empire.

The brilliant throng whom chamberlains announced as they streamed toward the dais, the majestic magnificence of the Hall of Stars, the televisor screens through which he knew half the galaxy was watching-all this numbed John Gordon.

He felt more and more like a man in a strange and impossible dream. Surely he would wake up at any moment and find himself back in his own 20th Century world? “The King of the Cygnus Suns!” rang the chamberlain's measured announcements. “The King of Lyra.”

They streamed before Gordon in a blurred succession of faces and voices. He recognized but few of them-the cold-eyed Zu Rizal of the Hercules Barons, young Sath Shamar of Polaris, one or two others.

“The King-Regent of Cassiopeia. The Counts of the Marches of Outer Space.”

Lesser luminaries and officials of the Empire continued the procession to the dais. Among these last came a bronzed naval captain who offered Gordon a thought-spool as he bowed.

“A small petition from my squadron to your highness on this happy occasion,” the officer murmured. “We hope that you will listen to it.”

Gordon nodded. “I will, captain-”

He was suddenly interrupted by Commander Corbulo. The grizzled naval chief had been staring at the bronzed officer's insignia and he suddenly pushed forward.

“No officer of that squadron should be nearer here than Vega right now!” snapped Corbulo. “What is your name and division-number?”

The bronzed captain looked suddenly gray and haggard. He recoiled, his hand darting into his jacket.

“That man's a spy, perhaps an assassin!” yelled Corbulo. “Blast him.”

The detected spy already had a short, stubby atom-pistol flashing in his hand.

Gordon swept Lianna swiftly behind him. He whirled back then toward the other.

But, at Corbulo's shouted command, from secret apertures high in the walls of the Hall of Stars had flicked down swift atom-pellets that tore into the spy's body and instantly exploded. The man fell to the floor, a torn, blackened corpse.

Screams rent the air, as the crowd recoiled in sudden panic. Gordon was as stunned as everyone else in the Hall by what had happened.

But Arn Abbas' rumbling roar rose quickly to dominate the scene. “There is nothing to fear. The man is dead, thanks to Corbulo's vigilance and our guards inside the walls.”

The big ruler shot orders. “Take the body into another room. Zarth, you and Jhal come along. Corbulo, have that thought-spool ray-searched, it may be dangerous. Lianna, will you reassure our guests?”

Gordon went with the giant emperor into another, smaller room where the blasted body of the spy was quickly carried.

Jhal Arn bent over the body, ripped away the scorched jacket. The mangled torso was not bronze in color like the face. It was a curiously pallid white.

“A Cloudman. A League spy, as I thought!” snapped Arn Abbas. “One of Shorr Kan's agents in clever disguise.”

Jhal Arn looked puzzled. “Why did he come here? He wasn't primarily trying to assassinate any of us-he didn't draw his weapon until he was detected.”

“The thought-spool he was trying to give Zarth may tell us something,” muttered the ruler. “Here's Corbulo.”

Commander Corbulo had the thought-spool in his hand. “It's been thoroughly ray-examined and is a simple thought-spool and nothing more,” he reported.

“It's cursed strange!” rumbled Arn Abbas, his face dark. “Here, put the spool in this reader and we'll listen to it.”

The thought-spool was inserted in the reading-mechanism on the desk. Arn Abbas flicked the switch.

The spool started unwinding. Gordon felt the impact of its recorded, amplified thought-pulsations beating into his mind as into the minds of the others.

A clear, resonant voice seemed speaking in his mind as he listened.

“Shorr Kan to the Prince Zarth Arn: It is unfortunate that the arrangements we agreed on for bringing you to the Cloud were thwarted by the chance interference of an Empire patrol. I regret this as much as you do. But rest assured that I will make new arrangements at once for getting you here in safety and secrecy.

“The terms upon which we agreed still stand. As soon as you join forces with me and impart to us the secret of the Disruptor, we of the Cloud will be able to attack the Empire without fear of defeat and you will be publicly recognized as my co-equal in ruling the entire galaxy. Make no move that might arouse suspicion, but wait until my trusted agents are able to bring you safely to me.”