Telzey Amberdon by James H. Schmitz

Duomart slipped the kwil injectors he’d given her into a drawer of the instrument console. “I don’t think you’re mistaken,” she said. “I’ve been watching him for the last thirty seconds.”

“It is a man?”

“Pretty sure of it. He moves like one.”

Dasinger stood up. “I’ll go talk with Egavine then. I had a job in mind for him and his hypno sprays if we happened to run into human survivors.”

“Shall I put the ship down next to this one?”

“No. Land around five hundred yards to the north, in the middle of that big stretch of open ground. That should keep us out of ambushes. Better keep clear of the airspace immediately around the wrecks as you go down.”

Duomart looked at him. “Darn right I’ll keep clear of that area!”

Dasinger grinned. “Something about the scout?”

“Sure. No visible reason at all why the scout should have settled hard enough to buckle a drive. Handing was a good pilot.”

“Hm-m-m.” Dasinger rubbed his chin. “Well, I’ve been wondering. The Dosey Asteroids raiders are supposed to have used an unknown type of antipersonnel weapon in their attack on the station. All of the people killed in the raid had gunshot wounds. But a study of their bodies showed that for the most part the wounds had been inflicted on corpses.”

Duomart looked startled. “You mean—you think someone was trying to hide the fact that they were killed some other way? An unknown way?”

Dasinger nodded. ” ‘Unknown way’ is right. The raiders left very few clues. It appeared that the attack on the station had been carried out by a single ship, and that the locks to the dome had been opened from within. That implies an insider involved, of course. But the only thing that’s known for sure is that in a manner never clearly explained, the Dosey Asteroids Company lost six months’ production of gem-quality cut star hyacinths valued at nearly a hundred million credits. That was six years ago—and the great Dosey Asteroids robbery is still an unsolved mystery.”

He shook his head. “But let’s stick to the present. There’s nothing in sight on their wreck that might be, say, an automatic gun but . . . well, just move in carefully and stay ready to haul away very fast at the first hint of trouble!”

* * *

The Mooncat slid slowly down through the air near the point where the man stood in open ground, a hundred yards from the clump of trees out of which smoke still billowed thickly upwards. The man watched the speedboat’s descent quietly, making no further attempt to attract the attention of those on board to himself.

Duomart had said that the man was not a member of Handing’s lost crew but a stranger. He was therefore one of the Dosey Asteroid raiders.

Putting down her two land legs, the Mooncat touched the open hillside a little over a quarter of a mile from the woods, stood straddled and rakish, nose high. The storeroom lock opened, and a slender ramp slid out. Quist showed in the lock, dumped two portable shelters to the ground, came scrambling nimbly down the ramp. Dr. Egavine followed, more cautiously, the two handcuffed Fleetmen behind him. Dasinger came out last, glancing over at the castaway who had started across the slope towards the ship.

“Everyone’s out,” he told his wrist communicator. “Take her up.”

The ramp snaked soundlessly back into the lock, the lock snapped shut and the Mooncat lifted smoothly and quickly from the ground. Liu Taunus glanced after the rising speedboat, looked at Calat, and spoke loudly and emphatically in Fleetlingue for a few seconds, his broad face without expression. Dasinger said, “All right, Quist, break out the shelter.”

When the shelter was assembled, Dasinger motioned the Fleetmen towards the door with his thumb. “Inside, boys!” he said. “Quist, lock the shelter behind them and stay on guard here. Come on, doctor. We’ll meet our friend halfway . . .”

* * *

The castaway approached unhurriedly, walking with a long, easy stride, the bird thing on his shoulder craning its neck to peer at the strangers with round yellow eyes. The man was big and rangy, probably less heavy by thirty pounds than Liu Taunus, but in perfect physical condition. The face was strong and intelligent, smiling elatedly now.

“I’d nearly stopped hoping this day would arrive!” he said in translingue. “May I ask who you are?”

“An exploration group.” Dasinger gripped the extended hand, shook it, as Dr. Egavine’s right hand went casually to his coat lapel. “We noticed the two wrecked ships down by the lake,” Dasinger explained, “then saw your smoke signal. Your name?”

“Graylock. Once chief engineer of the Antares, out of Vanadia on Aruaque.” Graylock turned, still smiling, towards Egavine.

Egavine smiled as pleasantly.

“Graylock,” he observed, “you feel, and will continue to feel, that this is the conversation you planned to conduct with us, that everything is going exactly in accordance with your wishes.” He turned his head to Dasinger, inquired, “Would you prefer to question him yourself, Dasinger?”

Dasinger hesitated, startled; but Graylock’s expression did not change. Dasinger shook his head. “Very smooth, doctor!” he commented. “No, go ahead. You’re obviously the expert here.”

“Very well . . . Graylock,” Dr. Egavine resumed, “you will cooperate with me fully and to the best of your ability now, knowing that I am both your master and friend. Are any of the other men who came here on those two ships down by the water still alive?”

There was complete stillness for a second or two. Then Graylock’s face began to work unpleasantly, all color draining from it. He said harshly, “No. But I . . . I don’t . . .” He stammered incomprehensibly, went silent again, his expression wooden and set.

“Graylock,” Egavine continued to probe, “you can remember everything now, and you are not afraid. Tell me what happened to the other men.”

Sweat covered the castaway’s ashen face. His mouth twisted in agonized, silent grimaces again. The bird thing leaped from his shoulder with a small purring sound, fluttered softly away.

Dr. Egavine repeated, “You are not afraid. You can remember. What happened to them? How did they die?”

And abruptly the big man’s face smoothed out. He looked from Egavine to Dasinger and back with an air of brief puzzlement, then explained conversationally, “Why, Hovig’s generator killed many of us as we ran away from the Antares. Some reached the edges of the circle with me, and I killed them later.”

Dr. Egavine flicked another glance towards Dasinger but did not pause.

“And the crew of the second ship?” he asked.

“Those two. They had things I needed, and naturally I didn’t want them alive here.”

“Is Hovig’s generator still on the Antares?”

“Yes.”

“How does the generator kill?”

Sweat suddenly started out on Graylock’s face again, but now he seemed unaware of any accompanying emotions. He said, “It kills by fear, of course. . . .”

* * *

The story of the Dosey Asteroids raider and of Hovig’s fear generators unfolded quickly from there. Hovig had developed his machines for the single purpose of robbing the Dosey Asteroids Shipping Station. The plan then had been to have the Antares cruise in uncharted space with the looted star hyacinths for at least two years, finally to approach the area of the Federation from a sector far removed from the Dosey system. That precaution resulted in disaster for Hovig. Chief Engineer Graylock had time to consider that his share in the profits of the raid would be relatively insignificant, and that there was a possibility of increasing it.

Graylock and his friends attacked their shipmates as the raider was touching down to the surface of an uncharted world to replenish its water supply. The attack succeeded but Hovig, fatally wounded, took a terrible revenge on the mutineers. He contrived to set off one of his grisly devices, and to all intents and purposes everyone still alive on board the Antares immediately went insane with fear. The ship crashed out of control at the edge of a lake. Somebody had opened a lock and a number of the frantic crew plunged from the ramp and fell to their death on the rocks below. Those who reached the foot of the ramp fled frenziedly from the wreck, the effects of Hovig’s machine pursuing them but weakening gradually as they widened the distance between themselves and the Antares. Finally, almost three miles away, the fear impulses faded out completely. . . .

But thereafter the wreck was unapproachable. The fear generator did not run out of power, might not run out of power for years.

Dasinger said, “Doctor, let’s hurry this up! Ask him why they weren’t affected by their murder machines when they robbed Dosey Asteroids. Do the generators have a beam-operated shutoff, or what?”

Graylock listened to the question, said, “We had taken kwil. The effects were still very unpleasant, but they could be tolerated.”

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