Part 1

Spoilers of the Spaceways

By W. BRADFORD MARTIN

_Out beyond hyper-space soared the transmuted Terran--to Trygon II--where all mad men die willingly for the Empress._

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories July 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

It could be said that the Resistance began at the moment the great spaceship from Trygon II first appeared as an unknown body on the photographic plates at Palomar, for while the astronomers propounded theories as to its origin and composition, it entered our atmosphere and came to earth on the runways of Idlewild Airport, just outside of what was then New York City. Nothing need be said of the panic caused by its coming.

Three Trygonians went immediately in a ground car to the United Nations Building in the city. The records of their pronouncement have, unfortunately, been lost, but from subsequent events it has been established that they granted Terra fifteen days to submit to Trygonia.

Then they returned to space.

Fifteen days later they returned and crushed the feeble opposition they encountered.

* * * * *

Ross Savage was tired of seeing nothing but white; the walls and ceiling of his small, windowless room, the few pieces of utilitarian furniture and the sheets covering the narrow bed, which sagged under the weight of his muscularly massive, six-foot five-inch frame. He was tired too, of the white bandages on his hands and, although he could not see them, the white bandages that swathed his head and face, leaving only slits for his eyes and mouth.

Today is the day, he thought. Why don't they come? As if in answer to his unspoken question the door latch clicked. Savage turned his head stiffly to watch the door open. As it swung wide the doctor entered, followed by General Strathmore and two nurses guiding a wheeled tray.

"It's time to take them off," the doctor said. No one answered, but Savage felt his hands grow sweaty in their wrappings.

As the group reached the bed a nurse handed the doctor a pair of surgical scissors. He bent over Savage as he said, "We'll take the hands first."

There was no sound other than the snip-snip of the scissors as the doctor carefully cat through the gauze. Finally the sound stopped and Savage looked at his hands. They were white and soft, but there were no scars to betray the fingerprint change.

The doctor permitted himself a small smile of satisfaction, but the room was pregnant with tension as he turned his attention to the gauze covering Savage's head.

The snip-snip came again as the cold steel slid slowly over his skin. An eternity passed before the sound again ceased and a nurse carefully removed the freed gauze. For a long moment there was no sound and Savage looked anxiously from face to face and tried to interpret what he read there. The nurses stared in disgust and horror while the doctor looked satisfied. The General beamed.

"Beautiful job," the General said finally, and the doctor nodded in agreement.

"Let me see," Savage croaked through stiff lips.

A nurse took the hand mirror from the bedside table and held it in front of him. From the glass the bearded face of a Trygonian stared at him; there was no mistaking the narrow chin, the high, broad cheekbones and aquiline nose.

* * * * *

Almost a month later Savage stood at attention in the General's office. He wore the flamboyantly brilliant uniform of a Trygonian officer. Medals and orders sparkled on his breast. His new face wore a sardonic scowl.

"Fleet captain Choon reporting, sir," he said, and the General's stern face relaxed to a half smile.

"Sit down, Ross," the General invited and indicated the chair beside his desk. "So you're ready to go, eh? How do you like yourself?"

"Well," Savage smiled, "I have to keep myself from going for my gun when I see myself in a mirror, but outside of that I'm pretty used to it by now."

"We've made tremendous strides in the twenty years since we went underground. I guess it was the pressure. But Phillips told me that by every test you're a Trygonian. I hope however, that you haven't become one emotionally. That was the one thing we were afraid of when we decided to use the Ceregraph. Choon died, of course, but how was it for you?"

"Nothing to it, sir. I just seemed to go to sleep and when I awoke I knew everything Choon knew, but Doctor Phillips almost drove me crazy testing me to find out whether I'd picked up Choon's mental outlook. Apparently, though, the Ceregraph transfers only knowledge, not emotions."

"Thank the Lord," exclaimed the General heavily.

"I want to thank you for this opportunity," Savage said. "I've wanted to do something concrete against them since they killed my parents twenty years ago."

"Whether or not you can do something concrete is up to you." The General was stern again. "You were chosen because of your physical and mental qualifications. You just happened to be Choon's exact physical double. Fortunately he was rather shorter than the average Trygonian."

"Doctor Phillips told me that, except for size, there is no anatomical difference between the Trygonians and ourselves," said Savage. "It is his theory that the highest intelligent life form on any planet suitable to the evolution of intelligent life will be a humanoid type."

"That may be possible, but exact duplication seems strange," the General said. "Although I'm interested in Trygon I haven't had a chance to read your report. I think you have time to fill me in on some of the details. Why do they call their planet Trygon II?"

"Trygon is the name of their sun," explained Savage. "Their system consists of three planets, Trygon I, II and III. Until about seven hundred years ago only the middle planet, Trygon II was inhabited by their race. Then they discovered a method of utilizing Solar energy directly and what amounted to a social revolution took place.

"At the time, Trygon II was divided into a number of countries. The discovery was made in a country called Czur and with it Czur conquered the rest of the planet. They used pretty brutal methods, but they welded the entire planet into one country using one language and having one ruler.

"Space was the next step and they explored the other planets. The innermost one was hot and lush and eventually they tamed it and now they grow all their food there. The third planet, as might be expected was cold and bare, but it was fantastically rich in minerals. They transferred their mining and manufacturing to the third planet, leaving Trygon II the center of trade, the rich and the military.

"There are a number of commercial space-ports but only one military. It's near the capital city, named Czur in honor of the country that started it all.

"Two hundred years ago they ventured into deep space. Earth is the fifth humanoid planet they have conquered."

"That's quite a history," said the General. "What form of government do they have?"

"Autocratic. The Emperor is the supreme authority, but the High Commissioner works out the details and sees that the orders are carried out. All military matters are in the hands of the Emperor and in that respect the High Commissioner is just a figure head. As you can imagine there is a good deal of intrigue."

"Yes, I can see that there would be," agreed the General. He glanced at the wall clock. "But it's almost H-hour."

"Are there any last orders?" Savage asked.

The General smiled wryly. "It might be said that there were no first orders. You're on your own, Ross. We don't know what you can do, but if you can get into one of their intrigue groups you should be able to do something. The rank of Fleet captain carries a lot of weight. All I can say is be careful and do your best.

"The skeleton crew is moving out and the station is going on automatic as soon as you leave."

Savage stood up, saluted and then the General took his hand and shook it warmly. Savage turned and walked out of the office without looking back.

Outside two guards waited and they walked together down a long hall to a bare, cement-walled room. There was only one way to make sure that he would look like an escaped prisoner and they had to make sure. So they fought and when they were through, his uniform was a sad caricature of its former splendor and he had the beginnings of a black eye.

He shook hands with the two men and then went up three flights of stairs where the Trygonian patrol ship waited. There was no one in sight as he climbed into the ship and roared away, but anti-aircraft guns opened up almost immediately. Savage smiled grimly as he saw the shells burst a safe distance from him.

* * * * *

Then, as he was almost out of range, the ship lurched from the blast of a near miss. A hole appeared in the hull beside him and he saw his sleeve rip and redden as a fragment cut across his arm. He switched on the automatics and cursed the unknown gunner as he crudely bandaged the flesh wound with part of his already torn shirt. At least, he thought finally, it would add verisimilitude to his story.

An hour later he crash-landed on the outskirts of what had once been Denver, Colorado, and what was now the Trygonian Capital for North America. Then he settled down to wait for the Trygonians.

Something less than ten minutes passed before a ground car skidded to a stop near the wrecked ship. Two Trygonian soldiers jumped out with hand-blasters at the ready. More sedately, as befitted his rank, a Senior Lieutenant followed and Savage walked briskly to meet him. The Lieutenant eyed Savage dubiously for a brief moment and then snapped to the salute.

"At ease," Savage ordered. "Take me to Headquarters immediately."

"Yes, sir," the Lieutenant replied and followed Savage into the car. It was evident that he was wondering why such an exalted personage as a full Fleet captain should appear in a single place patrol ship and in this condition, but Savage let him wonder. The soldiers reentered the car and they sped away with a full-throated roar.

Savage remained grimly silent as they roared through the Trygonian capital. Trygonians were everywhere, but still Earthmen predominated, and Savage wondered what had induced them to remain. There were probably many reasons, he decided, for man in spite of everything must live somewhere and he must eat. After twenty years they were probably used to it.

He had lived briefly in Denver as a child, but nothing remained now of the city he had known. The old buildings had been blasted during the invasion and starkly functional ferro-concrete had replaced the rubble. At the very site of the old State Capitol the Trygonians had raised a towering structure to house the offices of the High Command.

They filed into the building and, as the Lieutenant had done, the honor guard eyed him dubiously before snapping to attention. Savage strode haughtily between them and finally, after a succession of guards and lesser officers, he was ushered into the presence of Vice Admiral Harna lor-Harna.

"Fleet captain Choon," he announced.

The Admiral was tremendous. He towered a full foot over Savage and his heavily decorated uniform was stretched tightly over a majestic paunch. His great jowls moved loosely as he boomed:

"Choon, by the great Galactic Gods. I knew your father on the old Arrano. He was the best Executive Officer I ever had.

"But sit down--you may leave, Lieutenant--and tell me what you are doing here. What happened to your uniform?"

"I was taken by the Terrans." The Admiral's eyes became icy chips. "I have just escaped from a Terran stronghold...."

"Have you, by the Eternal Stars," the Admiral interrupted. "Too many of our men have vanished in spite of reprisals, but this is the first definite proof of an organized movement. Where is it?"

"About five hundred ling North in the mountains," Savage said and the Admiral went into action. With his left hand he flipped a switch and a colored relief map of the area sprang into view on the wall, while with his right hand he pushed up a row of communicator buttons.

"Ready three attack units for immediate takeoff," he roared. "I will take personal command. Have my car at gate three."

With the buttons still up he asked, "What is the exact location?"

Savage moved quickly to the map and examined it closely. After a moment's hesitation he said, "As closely as I can make it, it was zone three, sector five. It was well camouflaged."

The Admiral roared the location into the communicator and slammed down the buttons. With swiftness surprising for one of his bulk he strode to the door.

"You will come with me in my flagship, Choon. These miserable savages won't give us much of a fight, but it may be of some interest. We'll both be decorated for this."

II

An hour and twenty minutes later the fifteen unit fleet was hovering high over the Canadian Rockies, zone three, sector five. At the Admiral's direction Savage examined the mountain below through the electronic scanners. Although he knew there was no one left in the hidden cavern below him it was an effort to point it out, it had been his home for a long time.

The Admiral barked co-ordinates into the microphone and then barked an order. One ship detached itself from the formation and dived toward the hidden entrance of the cavern, its heat guns burning great swaths through trees and brush. It made a second pass and antiquated anti-aircraft guns opened up, tearing the air futilely.

Savage barely suppressed a start of surprise before remembering that the guns were automatic-radar controlled.

The Admiral roared into the microphone again: "Squadron three cover, one and two land and deploy for attack. Remember, I want prisoners."

As the ships descended the anti-aircraft guns opened up again from their now revealed turrets and as they fired the Trygonian guns blasted them into so much molten scrap. Finally they were completely silenced and the attack ships landed and the soldiers deployed. They were almost to the entrance and Savage was beginning to wonder what had happened to the trips, when an Atomic blast took away the side of the mountain.

The troops and five Trygonian ships went with it.

The Admiral had had within his grasp a stronghold of the resistance and he had lost it. It could be argued that the loss could not have been avoided, but in his service such an argument was not admissible. A full report was sent to Trygon II and both the Admiral and Choon were recalled.

The three ships which first found Terra had been equipped with ordinary Space Drive and had been in space for more than eighteen years. Lacking a radio which would cover the immense distance, one of the ships had taken a second eighteen years to make a report of the conquest. But in the meantime both space radio and Space Warp had been achieved, and forty-five days after the abortive attack they were on Trygon II.

They were placed under house arrest in hotel suites and two days later the Admiral was given a swift trial. He was demoted three grades and then given permission to retire.

Having extracted the penalty for failure from its Admiral the Supreme Command would next turn its attention to erring Fleet captain; capture by the enemy was bad enough, but he had given the information which had led to serious losses. Confined in his suite he waited anxiously for two days more without receiving word and then he received a visit from a Captain Lin.

After identifying himself, Lin said, "You are in serious trouble with the High Commissioner, sir, and not about your capture or the attack on the Terran stronghold. At least, not directly. You had better sit down while I tell you what happened."

"I will stand, thank you," Savage said coldly.

"As you wish, sir. It's hard to believe, but every file and record concerning you for the past two years, as well as the records of the trial have been either destroyed or rewritten. Officially, you are here on leave. And to top it off lor-Harna was found dead this morning. The evidence pointed to suicide, but it is believed to be murder."

"What?" exclaimed Savage and found a chair.

"The High Commissioner is blowing his jets," continued Lin with thinly veiled excitement. "He doesn't know how it was done, but he suspects that the Empress ordered it. If that's the case his hands are tied, but in the meantime he'll do anything to get you.

"I have been instructed to advise you to deny everything except that you are indeed home on leave. Incidentally, no one is to know of my visit."

"How about the guards?" Savage asked.

Lin smiled. "I am in command of the guard detail. I must return to duty now, but please remember that you are a person of extreme importance and as such you must be very careful."

Before Savage could reply, Lin turned on his heel and left the room, leaving him to ponder this sudden turn of events. How could anyone change everything so completely, he wondered. If it was on the Empress' order, why should she take such an interest in him? Why should Lin give him the information? Who did he represent?

An hour later a knock on the door brought him out of his private Hell.

* * * * *

The panel slid open and a Lieutenant in the jet black uniform of the Fleet CID strode in importantly. Behind him come four enlisted men in the same uniform, two of whom planted themselves firmly beside the door with their hands on open-holstered blasters. The other two wheeled in an equipment table.

Savage waited with silent calm while the Lieutenant crossed the room and drew himself to attention. Then he asked sharply:

"What is the meaning of this intrusion? I demand every courtesy of house arrest and this does not fall in that category."

"I am under the explicit orders of the High Commissioner," the officer said icily. "Any complaints should be addressed to him. I have also been instructed to take any necessary action to carry out my orders."

"And what are they?" Savage parried.

"Please be good enough to follow me to the table," the officer said, fingering his blaster. Savage followed.

At the table the officer flipped a switch and from somewhere in the apparatus came a muffled hum. Then a flat plate set into the surface of the table glowed and Savage was instructed to place his hands, palms down, on the plate. He did so and the officer pushed a button.

"You may remove your hands," he said and bent over a double eyepiece. After adjusting and readjusting a pair of knobs he raised his head and gave Savage a surprised look. He bent down again and made new adjustments. At last he straightened up. His voice lacked some of its former arrogance as he said, "Thank you, sir."

The Lieutenant and his men left without saying anything further and Savage wondered what they had tried to prove with a fingerprint check. Apparently, however, the High Commissioner was covering every angle. The episode gave Savage a momentary feeling of pleasure, which however was quickly replaced by his former doubts.

Several hours passed, during which he had lunch, before a knock again sounded. This time, as the door slid open, Savage could see a double row of crimson-uniformed men, the personal guard of the High Commissioner himself. The guards stiffened to attention as the Commissioner appeared, followed by a group of high ranking officers.

Now what, Savage wondered as he ram-rodded his spine and saluted.

The group stopped in front of Savage and the Commissioner didn't bother to conceal his distaste as he announced without preamble, "His Supreme Mightiness, Emperor Hlar, Ruler of the Universe, has seen fit to bestow upon you, Fleet Captain Jarlon Choon, the Order of Trygon."

At the mention of the decoration an officer stepped forward with a flat, gold case. Opening it, he took from it a heavy golden chain, from which depended a jewel encrusted medallion. This he hung about Savage's neck. Then he stepped back into position and the Commissioner went on:

"I am further instructed to inform you that you have been promoted to the rank of Commodore. Commodore Loong here will give you further orders."

Savage's senses reeled from this succession of shocks as the Commissioner turned and strode out with his retinue, leaving only the officer who had presented the decoration.

Loong waited until the door was completely closed and then he laughed uproariously. Savage could only look at him with amazement until he finally stopped and said, "Did you see the look on his face? I think he would almost rather have marooned himself on an asteroid."

"I don't understand," Savage said.

"To tell you the truth, I don't either," Loong replied. "Have you ever been to Court?"

"I was born in Space," said Savage.

"That checks and that's what puzzles me. I have been reliably informed that it was the Empress' agents who caused the alteration of your records. In addition to that, Palace gossip has it that she persuaded the Emperor to honor and promote you. The Emperor was against it. You saw for yourself how the High Commissioner felt. What's the explanation?"

"I have none," Savage replied stiffly.

Loong glanced at him sharply and said, "In addition the Empress expects you at the Palace this evening. Full dress uniform is required, of course. I think you should also wear this." He produced a small, holstered needle gun. "It's not as messy as a blaster, but just as effective at close range. Above all, be careful. You have very few friends."

* * * * *

Savage took the gun and went to his room to change. Things were moving a little too swiftly. Why was the Empress so interested in him? There were a lot of unanswered questions and no immediate way to get the answers. He dressed quickly, strapped the needle gun to his left wrist, and returned to the living room.

"How do you fit in?" he asked Loong bluntly.

"As an officer in the Space Fleet I am under the orders of the Emperor, the Empress and the High Commissioner," he answered evasively. "I have arranged for a car. The driver has his instructions."

"You are not coming?" Savage asked.

"No, but I'll be here when you return. In the meantime I've ordered supper."

The brilliantly lighted Palace was thronged with splendid uniforms and lavish gowns and the main hall was a babble of sound. It stilled abruptly when the name of Commodore Choon was announced. All eyes were on him as a servant guided him across the floor; the women gazing at him with frank speculation and the assembled officers and statesmen with envy or thinly veiled hatred. Loong was right, he had few friends.

He was led up the long, curving flight of stairs and the babble burst out anew behind him. At the end of a long hall they stopped before a plain door and the servant rapped lightly. Without waiting for an answer he opened the door and motioned Savage inside.

The Empress was regally beautiful, tall and slim in a sweeping, brilliantly hued gown. Although she was more than twice Savage's age neither her face or figure showed it. She extended her hand as Savage crossed the room and knelt before her. He kissed her hand and she said:

"Rise, Commodore Choon, son of Admiral Choon. Come, sit beside me."

"Thank you," said Savage.

"A long time ago I knew your father very well," she said. She smiled reminiscently and murmured, "Very well. And we too shall know each other well. You are fully as handsome as he was." And so, one question was answered.