Mission: Earth "Villainy Victorious" (29 page)

"Wait a minute," said Madison. "You're only scanning ahead. What if we already passed it?"

Flick hastily twiddled more controls and shot the beams behind them.

THERE WAS THE MOUNTAIN!

They'd passed right over the top of it with only a hundred feet to spare! It had been hidden by morning clouds.

Madison let out a gasp of relief. They had overshot by twenty miles! Flick slued the airbus around, reducing speed, dropping altitude.

Instantly, the moment they changed course, their speakers boomed, "Warning, warning Model 99-3. This is Satellite Monitor Control, Planetary Defense. We have a Slaughter Warhead ready to launch. Do NOT attempt to land on Relax Island."

Perspiration started up on Flick's low forehead as he hastily veered off. He grabbed a microphone. "I been ordered to land here!" And he hastily grabbed Madison's identoplate and pushed it in the slot.

"We're sorry, that won't do," said Planetary Defense. "There's been no landing on Relax Island for fifty years, but you're not the first one to try. Clear off at once!"

A hand was plucking Madison's sleeve and he turned to find the major-domo pushing something at him. It was an identoplate. He passed it to Flick who withdrew Madison's and put the new one in the slot. His hand was shaking so, he could hardly get it in.

"Is this a trick or something?" boomed Planetary Defense. "We'll have to clear this with Government City. Stand by."

Madison and Flick looked at each other in dismay.

There was a pause, then, "Would Your Majesty accept our apologies? We are merely being diligent in executing Exterior Division orders that no one may land on Relax Island without the express approval of Your Majesty. Webow."

The major-domo grabbed the mike. "Her Majesty graciously thanks your diligence and watchful eye and verifies that the order is still in force. She releases you to your duties."

"We kiss the hem of her robe. Out."

Flick said, "Phewww! A Slaughter Warhead! You were right, Chief, in saying this would be an awful day." He passed Teenie's identoplate back over his shoulder to the major-domo.

Madison had been electrified by the exchange. Teenie wasn't lying, for once. Even Planetary Defense and Government City had her registered as a queen.

And seconds later, he got another shock. They had dropped below the cloud layer and there, dappled in patches of sunlight, lay the island.

It was BIG! He hadn't realized that it took so much ground to make up 305 square miles. From four thousand feet, you couldn't even take it all in.

There were gentle hills and forests. There were waterfalls and rivers. There were squares of fields walled by stone on which crops were growing. There were herds of animals in meadows. And there were little villages with white walls nestling here and there in the brilliant verdure of folded hills. Dropping even lower, he saw that the masses of color were flowering trees and flower gardens.

He tried to compare it to any island he knew of on Earth for beauty. Tahiti? No. It was ten times that.

WHAT A PARADISE!

"Where do I land?" squeaked Flick.

"In front of the palace," pointed the major-domo.

Madison saw it. It was partially up the slope of Mount Teon and so masked by flowering trees that the size of it was obscured until they were almost landed. Then it burst upon him that he was looking at a building that must be a thousand feet long, curving elegantly upon the mountain breast. It was only three stories high but it must reach back into the mountain.

There was a landing target, the usual blue circle nearly gone. Weeds were pushing through the stone steps which led down to it.

Then Madison took a closer look. All along the curving palace front, what he had taken to be green scallops of decoration was moss, hanging on faded metal ropes which bore only a fleck or two of gilt. Dead limbs from forgotten storms littered the curving steps and terraces.

They got out and stared at the palace.

"Jesus!" said Teenie.

A door opened, one that was inset into the massive entrance grills.

An old man with a stick in his hand, gray beard flying, raced toward them.

"Be off! Be off!" he screamed. Then he drew himself up in his tattered rags and shouted, "You're trespassing! This is the domain of the Planet Flisten. Fly away fast or I'll call the guard!"

The major-domo waddled up to him. "Governor Spurt, I will wager you do not even
have
a guard! Down on your knees, you oaf!"

"Down on my knees in Hells for you!"

The major-domo turned, "That is an insult you cannot forgive, Your Majesty. This place is a disgrace: the walks are clogged with weeds, the fountains aren't even running. Compare it to the beautiful condition you found your palace in Palace City in, hold an immediate trial and let us fertilize the grass with his blood. That is my recommendation. I await your command."

The old man had been gawping. Now he began to shake. "Did you say 'Your Majesty'?"

"Her Royal Majesty Teenie the First!" said the major-domo and unsnapped the Exterior Division scroll before the bugging eyes of Governor Spurt.

"Oh, my Gods!" wailed the old man. "We have a QUEEN!"

Faces popped out of palace windows.

The old man rushed forward and fell prostrate at Teenie's feet. Talking, blubbering really, with his face pushed into the pavement, he said, "Oh, forgive me, forgive me. Mercy! We did not know you existed. We did not know you were coming. We have had no warning. Fifty years ago when dear Queen Hora died, Exterior

Division people came and locked up all the chests. We have had no money for paint or material of any kind. No one has come from the mainland. None of us can go. We raise our own food and fish in the sea. We have not forgotten protocol, we drill it every week! Please, please, Your Majesty, don't execute me on the day your coming has made the happiest day of my life!" Then he stopped for a moment and said, "No. You can go ahead and execute me if it will give you the slightest moment of pleasure."

Governor Spurt reached out and put her foot on his neck and he clung to it, caressing it.

"I don't want your life," said Teenie. "I want you to show me the deepest, rottenest dungeon that you've got."

"Oh, good, you'll put me in it. It is more than I deserve."

Teenie looked up. The earlier shout of the old man had been overheard. At least two hundred people, young and old, had come scurrying out of the palace, half-naked and in rags, and were now prostrating themselves on the terrace, steps and landing target. They were all sobbing.

Teenie turned to the major-domo. She removed her foot from the back of Governor Spurt's neck. "Will you tell this idiot to get up and lead the way to that dungeon?"

Madison had a chill. Was that why she had brought him here? To put
him
in it?

"Your Majesty," said the major-domo, "if you are choosing to be merciful despite this man's offense, could I recommend that you at least let me tell these people to clear some of the debris off the steps and brush the halls so that it will not soil your feet to enter?"

Teenie gave a slight motion with her hand. Governor Spurt instantly kissed her foot and scuttled backwards.

He leaped to his feet and bawled at the crowd, "GET BUSY! CLEAN THIS PLACE UP FOR YOUR QUEEN!"

One would have thought, from the ferocity and volume of his voice, that he would have blown them all over backwards but this was not the case. They rose with awe upon their faces and like a wave across them, the look changed to adoration. They started throwing kisses and then took up the bellow of a big fellow at the back: "LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!"

Governor Spurt finally got them going back inside.

Restlessly, Teenie paced about. She had something on her mind and she was not paying too much attention to her surroundings. But, inwardly driven to be in motion, she walked up a path, all weed grown but festooned with heavy-scented flowers, and came to a spot where she could overlook the valleys below.

Madison, somewhat anxious, trailed after her. He looked at the breathtaking view. "How lovely," he said, hoping it would soothe her. "It's a garden spot like I have never seen before. Even the softness of the breeze kisses one. And how restful! Even the song of the birds is a lullaby."

"Shut up," said Teenie. Then she looked around. "It's a pretty place, all right. Too (bleeped) pretty, if you ask me! I thought, like it said in the book, it was all black cliffs and rocks."

One of the sergeants came up with a message from the major-domo. "It's cleared enough for you to enter now, Your Majesty. But please watch your step, some of the paving is loose."

Teenie gave her red glove cuffs a twitch and promptly strode down the path. She stamped up the steps and across the terrace. They had the gigantic front doors open now and the ragged staff was lined up on each side, all kneeling, trying to catch her eye.

Governor Spurt was waiting with a burning torch. But Teenie paused beside her major-domo. "If you can get any sense into these people, have somebody assemble my regiment out in front."

The major-domo bowed and turned back and Teenie followed Governor Spurt.

Men who had suddenly remembered they were sergeants and guards were opening doors ahead of her. A man who was probably the seneschal, for all his rags, was jangling opening plates as he hurried on ahead.

"What are you doing with that wooden torch?" Teenie's Palace City guard officer demanded of Governor Spurt. "Where are the lights?"

"Oh, sir," said Spurt, "we ran out of fuel bars way back when I was a boy. Even this wooden torch is a luxury. So many of the people here were nobles and courtiers and high-level technicians that they had quite forgotten folk arts. It took us three years after dear Queen Hora died to work out how to weave the hair of the woolly animals into rope. We never have reevolved the skill of making cloth. We do very well to just weave baskets to carry fish and food, and we could only do that because some of them, as little girls, used to make flower garlands and flower caps. It is a terrible shock, when you are a high-level technology, to suddenly have to flounder with the primitive. The steppingstones upward to a high technology all disappear and one tries in vain to go back down them: everyone has forgotten how."

"I didn't ask for a lecture," said the guard captain. "I asked you where the lights were. I see we are entering tunnels back into the mountain and I'm not letting Her Majesty go any further until there's light."

Spurt hastily said, "Oh, I'm sure the electronics and electrical devices all work. There just isn't any fuel...."

The guard officer pushed him aside and strode ahead. Looking along the walls, he finally found a panel. He scraped off the mold and dust, found the catch, opened it and then, taking a spare electric saber battery from his belt, pushed it into a slot.

Nothing happened.

Disgustedly, he recovered his battery and with an acid glare at the governor said to Teenie, "Your Majesty, this place is getting impossible. I think these tunnels go way into the mountains and deep down. I must ask you not to proceed."

"I got to have a dungeon," said Teenie. "The deeper and darker and more awful, the better. Lead on!"

Following the sputtering, sparking torch, their shadows eerie on the walls, the group proceeded.

At length, having descended very deep into black rock, they came to a series of openings. There was a guard room. Then there were chambers lined with cells, their doors all corroded and hanging awry. Finally there was a large chamber which seemed to contain a forge and the remains of whips. Teenie patted a slab of stone which lay, filth-encrusted, at its center.

Madison realized it was a torture chamber and when he saw the look on her face by torchlight he felt his hair rise.

She found there were two cells just beyond it, little more than dark holes. She took the torch and peered into them, one after the other. She found some old shackles.

"These," said Spurt, "are left over from the ancient Teon sea people. I've only been down here once, when a courtier sixty years ago lost a pet snug. These dungeons scared me half to death. Could I ask Your Majesty to withdraw from such an awful place?"

Teenie was testing the remains of a door on one of the holes. "This has got to be repaired," she said.

"Oh, yes, Your Majesty," said Spurt. "We'll clean it all up."

"No," said Teenie. "Leave it as filthy and awful as possible. I only want it fixed so no one can ever get out. And repair those torture implements, too."

Madison could stand it no longer. "Teenie, what ARE you up to?" he said in English.

"This," she said, "is all for Gris."

"Gris?"

"Yes! The moment I heard torture dungeons existed over here, I had to come at once. They're torture dungeons, all right. A real horror picture. They'll do just fine. I am going to put Gris right there in that hole and then every day for the rest of his life I am going to torture him and hear him scream and blubber and beg. I'll carve on him for years and years!"

"Wait a minute, Teenie. You haven't got Gris. He's in the Royal Courts and Prison!"

Teenie, in the torchlight, fixed him with an awful smile. "That's my military campaign. Queen Hora kept her regiment here. I'm going to smuggle them out and in the dark of night I'm going to storm the Royal Prison and get Gris!"

"Teenie, you can't ask that of anyone. It would be death to try!"

"The men of the regiment were all Flisten nobles, sworn to give their lives at the whim of their queen. In each generation, only the strongest of their descendants were permitted to join the regiment. You are going to get me the arms and transport! And I am going to get Gris!"

"Teenie," said Madison in shock. "Teenie, listen to me. I can get Gris brought to trial. It will take a long time and lots of work. I can hammer away in the media, try him in the press and absolutely force them to try him. And," he added in desperation, for his whole plan for Heller depended upon it, "I can guarantee the trial will go on and on! He'd suffer mentally no end!"