It was an epic tale that the thought-spools unfolded of man's conquest of the stars. There had been great feats of heroism in exploration, disastrous wrecks in cosmic clouds and nebulae, bitter struggles against stellar aborigines too alien for peaceful contact.
Earth had been too small and remote to govern all the vast ever-growing realm of man. Star-systems established their own governments, and then banded into kingdoms of many stars. From such a beginning had grown the great Mid-Galactic Empire which Arn Abbas now governed.
Vel Quen finally told Gordon, "I know you want to see much of our civilization before you return to your own body and time. First let me show you what Earth looks like now. Stand upon this plate," He referred to one of two round quartz plates set in the floor, which were part of a curious, complex apparatus.
"This is a telestereo, which projects and receives stereoscopic images that can see and hear," Vel Quen explained. "It operates almost instantaneously over any distance."[3]
Gordon stood gingerly with him on the quartz plate. The old scientist touched a switch.
Abruptly, Gordon seemed to be in another place. He knew he was still in the tower laboratory, but a seeing, hearing image of himself now stood on a stereo-receiver on a terrace high in a great city.
"This is Nyar, largest city of Earth," said Vel Quen. "Of course, it cannot compare with the metropoli of the great star-worlds."
Gordon gasped. He was looking out over a mammoth city of terraced white pyramids.
Far out beyond it he could glimpse a spaceport, with rows of sunken docks and long, fishlike star-ships in them. There were also a few massive, grim-looking warships with the Empire's comet emblem on them.
But it was the great city itself that held his stunned gaze. Its terraces were flowering green gardens with gay awnings and crowds of pleasure-seeking people.
Vel Quen switched them to other stereo-receivers in Nyar. He had glimpses of the interior of the city, of halls and corridors, of apartments and workshops, of giant underground atomic power plants.
The scene suddenly vanished from John Gordon's fascinated eyes as Vel Quen snapped off the telestereo and darted toward a window.
"There is a ship coming!" he exclaimed. "I can't understand it. No ship ever lands here!"
Gordon heard a droning in the air and glimpsed a long, slim, shining craft dropping out of the sky toward the lonely tower.
Vel Quen looked alarmed, "It's a warship, a phantom-cruiser, but has no emblem on it. There's something wrong about this!"
The shining ship landed with a rush on the plateau a quarter-mile from the tower. A door in its side instantly slid open.
From it poured a score of gray-uniformed, helmeted men who carried weapons like long, slim-barreled pistols, and who advanced in a run toward the tower.
"They wear the uniform of Empire soldiers but they should not have come here," Vel Quen said. His wrinkled face was puzzled and worried. "Could it be-"
He broke off, seeming to reach a sudden decision. "I am going to notify the Nyar naval base at once!"
As the old scientist turned from John Gordon toward the telestereo, there came a sudden loud crash below.
"They have blasted in the door!" cried Vel Quen. "Quick, John Gordon, take the-"
Gordon never learned what he meant to tell him. For at that moment, the uniformed men came rushing up the stair into the room.
They were strange-looking men. Their faces were white, a pallid, colorless and unnatural white.
"League soldiers!" cried Vel Quen, the instant he saw them thus close. He whirled to turn on the telestereo.
The leader of the invaders raised his long, slim pistol. A tiny pellet flicked from it and buried itself in Vel Quen's back. It instantly exploded in his body. The old scientist dropped in his tracks.
Until that moment, ignorance and bewilderment had held Gordon motionless. But he felt a hot rage burst along his nerves as he saw Vel Quen fall. He had come to like the old scientist, in these days.
With a fierce exclamation, Gordon plunged forward. One of the uniformed men instantly raised his pistol.
"Don't blast him-it's Zarth Arn himself!" yelled the officer who had shot down Vel Quen. "Grab him!"
Gordon got his fists home on the face of one of them, but that was all. A dozen hands grasped him, his arms were twisted behind his back, and he was held as helpless as a raging child.
The pallid officers spoke swiftly to Gordon. "Prince Zarth, I regret we had to blast your colleague but he was about to call for help and our presence here must not be detected."
The officer continued rapidly. "You yourself will not be harmed in the slightest. We have been sent to bring you to our leader."
Gordon stared at the man. He felt as though all this was a crazy dream.
But one thing was clear. They didn't doubt he was Zarth Arn. And that was natural, seeing that he was Zarth Arn, in body.
"What do you mean?" he demanded furiously of the other. "Who are you?"
"We come from the Cloud!" answered the pallid officer instantly. "Yes, we are from the League and have come to take you to Shorr Kan."
It was still all baffling to John Gordon. Then he remembered some of the things that old Vel Quen had told him.
Shorr Kan was leader of the League of the Dark Worlds, which was the greatest foe of the Empire. That meant that these men were enemies of the great star-kingdom to whose ruling house Zarth Arn belonged.
They thought that he was Zarth Arn and were kidnapping him! Zarth Arn had never foreseen anything like this happening when he had planned the exchange of bodies!
"I'm not going with you!" Gordon cried! "I'm not leaving Earth!"
"We'll have to take him by force," rasped the officer to his men. "Bring him along."
3: Mystery Raiders
There was a sudden interruption. Into the tower came running a uniformed soldier, his face livid with excitement.
"The radar officer reports three craft of cruiser size heading in from space toward this quarter of Earth!"
"Empire patrol-cruisers!" yelled the League officer. "Quick, out of here with him!"
But Gordon had seized the moment of their alarm to bunch himself. Now with a violent effort he broke free of their grasp.
He grabbed up a heavy metal tool as the pallid men rushed him and struck savagely with it at their faces.
They were at a disadvantage for they did not want to kill or injure him, while he had no such reluctance. His savage blows dropped two of the soldiers. Then the others seized him again and wrested his makeshift weapon from him.
"Now to the ship with him!" panted the pallid League officer. "And hurry!"
Held by four big League soldiers, Gordon was dragged down the stairs and out of the tower into the biting, frosty air.
They were halfway to the shining ship when he saw the grim black gun-muzzles that projected from its side swinging suddenly to point skyward. Volleys of small shells burst upward from them.
The pallid officer yelled as he looked upward. John Gordon glimpsed three massive, fish-shaped warships diving straight down toward them.
There was an immense explosion. It hit Gordon and his captors like a giant hand and hurled them from their feet.
Half stunned, Gordon heard the deafening drone of great ships swooping toward the ground. By the time he stumbled to his feet, it was all over.
The League ship was a wreck of fused metal. The three cruisers that had destroyed it were landing. Even as they touched the ground, their small guns flicked deadly explosive pellets that picked off the dazed League soldiers who still sought to fight.
Gordon found himself standing, his late captors a heap of torn, blasted corpses less than a hundred feet away. The doors of the cruisers were sliding open, and men in gray helmets and uniforms came running toward Gordon.
[3]