Subject: Doomed Lensmen - Chapter 6 Date: Fri, 10 Nov 2000 08:21:15 -0800 From: Lee Gold To: mobrien@dnaco.net Chapter 6: DuQuesne Goes to Work As the Ultraviolet sped from Arisia to its far-off destination, DuQuesne busied himself with investigating his degree of mastery over his recently acquired artifact of Arisian biochemistry - the Lens. He had already found out that he was able to make use of its powers even when not in physical contact with it. He chuckled grimly as he remembered how Zagan had been kindled into murderous fury at the very sight of him with the quasi-living device. DuQuesne was far too callused to feel either pity for the hapless Nergalian or regret at having been forced to kill a possible henchman. Instead, he devoted himself to methodically and meticulously investigating the capabilities and limitations of the Lens of Arisia. Then, as the ship drove steadily onward through the interstellar void, DuQuesne turned his attention to integrating the knowledge he had lately acquired from the dead Zagan's brain with what he had previously learned about this new plenum by studying the records left by Kit Kinnison on Arisia. One thing was clear on the basis of even a preliminary assessment of his present knowledge: neither the remnants of the Boskonian Empire nor the Patrol nor the Nergalians were presently assured of the eventual domination of the Two Galaxies. The Boskonian Empire, currently under the leadership of Surgat and the other Plooran survivors, had been incapable of defeating the forces of Civilization even with the aid of Eddore. It had even less chance to succeed now, with Eddore destroyed. The Patrol was laboring under two severe handicaps: the loss of Galactic Coordinator Kinnison and his headquarters at Klovia and - even more important - its ignorance of the nature of its true enemy, Gharlane of Eddore. And the Nergalians, under Gharlane's leadership, were themselves laboring under an equally significant ignorance, unaware that Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne had decided to take a part in the power struggle. DuQuesne smiled mirthlessly at the thought of the consternation that the news of his arrival would someday soon create on Nergal. Then he turned his attention once again to his plans for conquest. And as he darkly frowned in concentration, the Ultraviolet raced at incredible multiples of light speed toward his first target for conquest, the far-off world of TELLUS! And soon DuQuesne approached the Solarian planetary system, in this plenum as in his native one the primal home of the species of homo sapiens. Despite his customary preference for direct action, the scientist elected not to land on Tellus itself or any of the other planets of the system, but instead to set his ship down on the back side of Luna. "Borrowing a trick from the Jelmi," he thought to himself reminiscently, as he set his ship's screens to camouflage all its energies - from the visible light spectrum down to the subtle spectrum of thought itself, thus rendering itself invisible to any routine monitoring of the area. Once that was done, he sat down at the projector to study this new Tellus and see what differences and similarities it bore to the one he had formerly known. During the course of this investigation, he did not thicken the projector's pattern into visibility, studying the world below him with cool detachment while remaining totally unobserved. He had already ascertained in his initial scan of this plenum that there existed no counterparts of himself nor of the never-to-be-sufficiently-detested Richard Seaton nor of the high and mighty Norlaminians. But now his major concern was with the economic structure of Tellus. Where was a nexus of corruption though which he could work? First, for old time's sake, DuQuesne investigated Steel, Incorporated, a company similar in its ostensible purpose to what World Steel had been on his home world. But he found this corporation not only strictly honest but of minor economic importance. Steel had long since become too scarce on this Tellus to be anything but a luxury metal, a collector's item. Now steel for commercial purposes was imported - like uranium and most other metals - from other worlds which were as yet richer in natural resources. Next DuQuesne turned his attention to the automobile industry - to the DeKhotiner and Crownover firms. These companies held a greater place in the Tellurian economy than Steel., Inc., but they too proved to be relatively honest and straightforward in their business dealings. True scientist that he was, DuQuesne felt neither annoyance nor bafflement at this turn of events. When an idea failed to work, he merely abandoned it and turned to a new plan without rancor or repining. Now he decided to give up his examination of Earth's businesses for the moment and instead inspect the local planetary government. Here he struck pay dirt almost at once in the office of Carl Wallis, Senator from New England - and Majority Leader of the Tellurian Senate. But Wallis, it soon proved, was comparatively small fry, merely an errand boy for such powerful business cartels as the Tellurian Import-Export Corporation or Central Spaceways or…. DuQuesne suddenly tensed. Surely he had heard something interesting about Central Spaceways. He frowned blackly in concentration, then remembered. According to the Kinnison transcripts, one of the beings killed by Kandron of Onlo in his attempt to spread panic among the forces of Civilization had been one Dillway of Tellus, Operations Chief of Central Spaceways. Was it possible, DuQuesne wondered, that Kandron had had another purpose behind his action, that his choice of victims had been more than merely random? Just what kind of person was this George Hayland who had moved into Dillway's sixtieth floor office and taken over the management of Central Spaceways, Tellus' largest commercial space service? Who, for that matter, were the people who had succeeded to the jobs - or fortunes - of Kandron's other Tellurian victims? DuQuesne spent three days finding out. And soon a web emerged. A web of subtle graft and bribery, of conspiracies and corruption. A web of evil spun by Kandron of Onlo but abandoned since that being's death at the hands of Nadreck of Palain VII. A web that Nadreck's failure to probe his victim's mind had left unrevealed. There was Wallis, the organization's political errand boy; Hayland of Central Spaceways, and - Back of Hayland and above him - Jake Briggs, Chairman of the Board for Universal Telenews and heir to the fabulous fortune of Alexander Edmundson, the business tycoon who slightly more than a year ago had thrown fifteen women overboard from his yacht during an ocean voyage and then jumped after them dressed only in a lifejacket stuffed with lead - at the urging of Kandron of Onlo. In the center of this web, then, DuQuesne drove his projector and listened. He listened and spied, studied and planned, until he had not only grasped every nuance of this new and yet strangely familiar Tellus but had also meticulously planned the course of action he would pursue to conquer it. Then, one night, he drove his projection into Jake Briggs' inner sanctum, cut in his audio, and spoke: "For someone who's planning on becoming Master of Tellus, you are just about the most incompetent, nitwitted idiot I have ever had the opportunity of meeting." When he heard the sneering, caustic tone of the scientist's voice, Briggs seemed to shrink bodily, his face turning a pasty gray as the blood receded from it. "Who is that?" he gasped. "Where - are you?" "I'm right here beside you, and I have been for the last few days." DuQuesne thickened his image to full visibility. "My name's DuQuesne. Have you got any other irrelevant questions before we get down to business?" "Are you a messenger from Kandron?" Briggs asked. "I haven't heard from him for the last year, and I've been getting worried." "Kandron's long dead," said DuQuesne curtly. "And I'm not here on behalf of him or any other Boskonian bumbler. And," he added, forestalling the other's question, "I'm not working on behalf of the pigheaded Patrol either. I'm in this game for myself. "From what I've seen of you so far, you wouldn't recognize a genuine opportunity to take over this planet unless it stood up and yelled at you, so that's what I'm doing now. And if you've got an ounce of sense, you'll string along with me." "I think you'd better give me a little more information before you ask me to do anything like that," Briggs replied calmly. "Just exactly what do you have to offer me in return for my cooperation? This invisibility gadget of yours?" "My invisibility gadget is technically known as a projector, and I have no intention of offering it to you. It's enough for you to know that I'm not really here in person. What you see and hear is merely a projected image which has all the advantages of a personal appearance and none of the disadvantages. NONE of them. A projected image is immune to any kind of attack. Bullets go right through it without damaging it. Rays can't affect it. But, on the other hand, it can manipulate matter quite easily." DuQuesne picked up a fragile glass paperweight from the tycoon's desk, squeezed it with his left hand until it shattered, and then contemptuously dropped the sparkling shards of glass back on the desk. "That could just as easily have been someone's neck," he added callously. "In addition to the projector, I also have a number of other equally interesting gadgets in reserve, one of which is capable of rendering Tellus invulnerable against the means of attack recently used against Klovia," DuQuesne continued. "Now have you got enough brain power to grasp this information that I've just given you, or would you prefer to be shown a few more object lessons?" "Under the circumstances of Kandron's death," said Briggs slowly, "I see no reason why I shouldn't feel free to work with you once you've explained just how you propose to repay me for my cooperation. You want the galaxy, you say. Well, if I help you get it, what's in it for me?" "I'll tell you. I am going to make your front organization, Tellurian Enterprises, Incorporated, the real government of Tellus. And you as the master of its dummy board of directors will therefore be dictator of the world. I don't want the job myself, because I'm going to be too busy with important things to bother about the details of managing a mere planet. In exchange, you're going to allow me to make free use of two of your corporations: Central Spaceways, your private space fleet, and Universal Telenews, your propaganda and espionage corps. "Once I've actually taken over the galaxy, I may do you a few more favors. But starting in a week or so, you should have virtual control of Tellus. Just play along with me, and you can run it as you please, subject only to my direction in broad matters of policy; try to double-cross me and you pass out of the picture Got me?" "I understand you thoroughly," said Briggs, "and I'll happily accept your offer. There's just one relatively minor problem. How do you plan to dispose of the Galactic Patrol? You do realize, I assume, that this planet is infested with them. It's their Grand Headquarters for the whole galaxy. And if you know as much about my business affairs as you seem to, you surely realize that none of my resources are powerful enough to challenge, let alone to defeat the Hill. DuQuesne laughed. "Don't worry, Briggs; my plan for ousting the Patrol is infallible - and it shouldn't require any military action at all. All you need to do is to give one of your Telenews reporters four little questions to ask Gray Lensman Christopher Kinnison at the next Patrol press conference, and Tellus is yours. There's a Patrol press conference coming up next week in the Second Galaxy, isn't there?" "Yes, on Thrale. Several of the Second Galaxy worlds have become very disturbed as a result of the Klovia disaster, and the Patrol seems to think a personal appearance by Galactic Coordinator Tregonsee and some of the other big name Lensmen will help calm things down. And I believe young Kinnison is supposed to put in some kind of an appearance there. Just what questions do you want to have my reporter ask?" DuQuesne picked up a memorandum pad from the mahogany desk, wrote four sentences on it, then tossed it to Briggs. "These?" The tycoon frowned. "How are you going to get the Patrol to leave Tellus with these?" "They'll go as gently as a sheep to the stockyards, if your propaganda machine is half as good as it thinks it is. Or have you forgotten that membership in the Patrol's 'Civilization' is wholly voluntary?" Briggs still frowned. "You're sure these questions can do it?" DuQuesne smiled mirthlessly. "Just instruct your reporter to ask these questions of Kit Kinnison and insist on a Lensed reply, and once Tellus hears about it, it'll withdraw from the Patrol's 'Civilization' in record time." "And then?" "And then you'll take over the planet - and publicly acknowledge me as the Lord Protector of Tellus." "It's a deal," assented Briggs. "And now that we've agreed to cooperate, I've got another irrelevant question if you don't mind. Where are you from? Not this galaxy, I know that much. Universal Telenews covers the First Galaxy pretty thoroughly, and nothing as new as this projector of yours could have been developed in this galaxy without my knowledge. "You're quite right," DuQuesne said. "I'm not from this galaxy and," he went on glibly, "I'm not from your Second Galaxy either." "You're not. But-" "I'm from a third galaxy," DuQuesne continued blandly. He had absolutely no intention of telling the truth about his origin to Briggs. "My home galaxy is over five million light years away from here. My native world, Alterra, has already conquered its own galaxy plus two others. I've come here because I'm a licensed conquistador, authorized by the Alterran Ruling Council to take over your entire galaxy, lock, stock and barrel. And I mean to do it within the next year or so. Now, if you've no other questions to ask," he paused momentarily, "I'll be on my way. I'll contact you again after the Patrol press conference on Thrale. What happens then should show whether I've really got the stuff." The projection vanished. Briggs stared for some moments at the spot where DuQuesne had seemingly been standing, then opened up direct access to the Thralian office of Universal Telenews. While he spoke, he scribbled notes to himself about things he'd need to do in the next few days - and other things he could do once he ruled Tellus. Occasionally, he broke off to reread DuQuesne's four questions and ponder their implications. And in the Second Galaxy, Kit Kinnison - after three days of fruitless search - prepared to leave the Dunli planetary system, scene of Worsel's recent tragic death. "Whoever these zwilniks are, they are smooth workers," he told his sister Constance. "They moved in on Dunster, fortified it, destroyed the Velan, and then evacuated Dunster completely - all in the space of less than two days. And we don't have any more clues now as to where they come from or what they look like or what they plan to do next than we did a week ago. "What still disturbs me most," said Constance, "is that imitation of Father's Lensed thoughts that lured Worsel and me into the ambuscade here. I suppose I should have been more on my guard...but Kit, I've always assumed that nobody can lie through a Lens." "They can't. But that zwilnik was capable of doing an almost perfect imitation of Lensed telepathy." "Yes, I know that now. But still…. Kit, don't you realize that now we don't dare trust a Lensed thought without double-checking it. And if that's true, then-" "Now hold on just a moment there," Kit interrupted quickly. "Let's go back and review that piece of reasoning in slow motion. True, you got fooled once. But that's mainly because you weren't expecting it. Run through your memory of that message again and see if you don't recognize any points where the imitation wears thin, particularly here and here," and he indicated two high frequency resonance bands. There was silence for a few minutes, then Constance said, "I see what you mean. Yes, once we're on our guard, even the first stagers should be capable of recognizing a real from a fake Lensing. I'll see that they all get the information. Thanks for putting my mind at rest, Kit. If it weren't for you, I don't know how I'd be able to still carry on." She changed the subject abruptly. "Where are you going now?" "Thrale. They're holding a ceremonial press conference in four days to reassure the frantic populace. Somebody's started some pretty frightening rumors all through the Second Galaxy, and the planets that used to belong to the Onlonian-Thralian Empire are getting jumpy. Tregonsee asked me to put in an appearance at the festivities to lend them whatever magic the Kinnison name may carry. Clear ether, Con." "Clear ether, Kit." The girl kissed him goodbye, then hastily turned and left his speedster to return to her own personal ship. Kit was still two hours out from Thrallis and had just awakened from a much-needed eight hours sleep when he was contacted by Tregonsee. "Christopher," the Rigelian Lensed, "something new has just occurred which makes this forthcoming press conference much more important than I had anticipated." "What's up now?" queried Kit, who had already established the authenticity of this Lensed communication. "About two hours ago," thought Tregonsee, "every world in this sector received the following message: "'People of the former Thralian Empire: The time for the re-establishment of Boskone has come. Though you have been willing slaves to the Galactic Patrol for the last twenty years, you still have one last chance to return to your true allegiance. Your governing bodies must formally renew their allegiance to Boskone. All those planets who do not do so by the end of seven days will be considered traitors. Choose wisely and, while you choose, remember the fate of Klovia. "'Surgat, speaking for Boskone.'" "Did you manage to trace the message?" asked Kit. "We traced it as far as a relay station on Phlestyn IV, but that's as far as we've gotten so far. The original source could have been anywhere in the Two Galaxies. The key issue now is to prevent any further panic. So arrangements have been made to have the press conference broadcast through the entire sector." "My reasoning checks with yours 101%," Kit said. Once the conversation was finished, he turned his attention to Lens Camilla. "Cam, what do you make of this 'Surgat, speaker for Boskone,' message?" "The message was broadcast as audio-visual, not thought, so there's no way to determine the sender's species from thought bands. The last so-called 'Speaker for Boskone,' of course, was Helmuth of Kalonia, but he confined his operations to the First Galaxy. There's a slight possibility that this Surgat belonged at one time to Helmuth's organization, but I doubt it. It can, however, safely be assumed that Surgat is somehow tied up with the organization that planned the Klovian operation but probably wasn't the prime operator behind it. The enemy - call him X - who destroyed Klovia wouldn't bother with propaganda messages; he'd just start systematically destroying planets And I very much doubt if that seven day deadline is really going to be followed by any full-scale, galaxy-wide war of annihilation. I think Surgat is just trying to raise the panic level." "So we're dealing with two different personality types now," Kit said. "I think I'll ask Nadreck and Kay to try unscrewing these inscrutables and determine just how Surgat and X relate to each other. Maybe they can come up with some deductions the rest of us haven't been able to." "Good idea. See you soon, Kit." And with that, the two broke contact. The press conference the next day was at first fairly uneventful. Tregonsee repeated his earlier assurances that the tragic destruction of Klovia by Boskonian forces could not possibly be repeated now that the Patrol was on full alert. "Then you think the Boskonian message received yesterday was just a bluff?" asked a reporter. "Essentially, yes," the new Galactic Coordinator replied. A great wave of relief spread through the room, and throughout the billions of people following the broadcast of the interview - some as an audio-visual signal, others by direct perception accompanied by telepathy, and still others through the starkly indescribable signals used by the four-dimensional lifeforms of such ultra-cold worlds as Palain V|I and Sol IX. And then a Universal Telenews reporter was recognized. "I have," he said, "a number of questions which I would like to address to Unattached Lensman Christopher Kinnison." The young red-haired Lensman stepped forward. "Lensman Kinnison, in view of the current galaxy-wide unrest, I would like to ask you some questions which I feel would basically clarify Civilization's present predicament. I ask that you give your reply by Lens as well as by voice, with all present in this room hearing both and able to testify if there is any discrepancy between the two." "QX," Kit said. "Ask away." In the audience, a number of reporters switched off their thought screens to allow hearing the Lensed reply. "Is it true that the Galactic Patrol was created not as a peace-keeping organization but as an instrument of the Arisian military?" The crowd of reporters became restless, some of them whispering to one another, others communicating silently. The Universal Telenews reporter went on more loudly. "Is it true that you have concealed the identity of the true targets of the Patrol's last battle from the people of Civilization? That neither you nor your sisters are members of the species homo sapiens but are instead products of an Arisian breeding experiment? That you and your sisters have secretly taken over control of the Patrol even though your only official position is that of a Gray Lensman, and your sisters are not even officially Lensmen at all? Are these charges true?" There was dead silence in the hall, as the reporters waited for Kit to reply. And now the reporter continued, "You cannot deny these charges on your Lens, can you? Surely you owe the people of Civilization the truth!" "I owe the people of Civilization what I have always tried to give them," came the reply. "My strength to protect them against their enemies. My life, if necessary, to keep them safe. As for your charges, they are ambiguous, slanted-" "Do you deny them?" "I do not deny them. I scorn them." "Thank you, Lensman Kinnison. I have no more questions for you." And the reporter sat down. And half an hour later, on Tellus, a carefully edited version of the interview was being broadcast on every channel of audio-visual communications. It was, said the newscasters, a clear case of subversion, of treason, of would-be usurpation. And the people of Tellus heard and believed. Why, it may be asked, did the Patrol take no steps to counter this flood of innuendo? And the answer is that many Patrolmen did indeed try to do so. Most of them, however, at first directed their efforts toward the formerly Boskonian planets, taking that to be the chief target of the propaganda. And when the Patrolmen based on Tellus did begin to act locally, they found themselves able to reassure only a small number of the people. For the mass media, most of which were secretly under the direct or indirect control of the Briggs machine, refused the Patrolmen the right to be heard. Nor were the Lensmen able, as they once had been, to Lens a rebuttal to the people. Too many Tellurians were wearing thought screens for any Lensed message to be successfully directed to the masses. And so there was no effective opposition to the Briggs' machine's propaganda. And in the planetary Senate, Majority Leader Carl Wallis, Senator from New England, claimed the floor and offered a bill that declared that the people of Tellus would that day formally withdraw from the Galactic Patrol's league of planets. "It is true, Mr. President," he said, "that this Galactic Patrol is in a certain sense a Tellurian product. It is our child. It is a willful child that lies to its own parents. A wicked child that has fallen into the ways of sin. It is a child, Mr. President, that must be disowned lest disgrace be attached to the whole family." And the Senate of Earth agreed. Not unanimously, of course. Even on that dark day there were still some stalwart men too loyal to the Patrol to be shaken by propaganda. But the rest were swayed by the persuasive rhetoric of the news media, by the telegrams sent by their panicking constituents, by the messages from their major contributors. And so Tellus, birthplace of the First Lensmen, became the first world ever to voluntarily withdraw from the ranks of Civilization. And in Jake Briggs' private office, DuQuesne told the tycoon, "From now on, everything's as simple as shooting fish in a barrel. They're happy now about having thrown out the perfidious Patrol. Give them a few more days before you start playing up the stories about how the Patrol is evacuating its people from Tellus, and they'll start feeling defenseless. "And then you step forward and proclaim that Tellurian Enterprises, Inc. has contacted a beneficent outsider who guarantees to protect Tellus on a strictly business basis, no fancy Patrol talk about ideals and altruism. They'll fall all over themselves trying to say yes. And of course the business negotiations will be handled through Tellurian Enterprises, Inc. Given your usual lack of efficiency, it should take you roughly a week to become world dictator." The projection abruptly vanished, as Briggs began to reply. It reappeared a few minutes later, just as he was about to send a policy statement to the news services that he controlled. "Sorry for disappearing on you like that," DuQuesne told him "but a new factor's just appeared in my calculations, and I wanted to investigate it in person. Pluto's disappeared." "It what?" "That's right," DuQuesne confirmed with a sardonic smile. "And that means that Tellus is going to get panicky a little quicker than I'd anticipated. You should be able to make world dictator in two to three days if you get to work on it right now. Better start taking advantage of your good luck." And the projection vanished once more.