It was no good. Jones had been certain that, despite the odds, they would be able to win through. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to have to leave Ophiuchius Prime without the Professor and Bobby.
As they stood on the white granite of the landing field and watched the Ophiuchians winch the Orbit Jet into its vertical blast-off position, Jones only had to look at DelPonte’s face to see that he was just as despondent. Stoicism had never been Winky’s strong suit, and it added to Jones’ gloom to see his co-pilot’s habitual jaunty grin replaced by a thin, grim line.
Jones welcomed the interruption when one of the archaic Ophiuchian ground cars emerged from an inner gate of Analka Vainda Govornox and rolled across the landing field towards them. Aircars were banned from all Ophiuchian landing fields, just as they were on Earth; it was a universal safety precaution that transcended national boundaries.
Winky, also staring at the ground car, wondered, “Do you think Cleo’s come to see us off?”
Jones was aware that the Ophiuchian suzerain had conceived an infatuation for him, and though it nagged at his conscience, his duty to the UWSS had compelled him to play along. It was with some sense of relief that he saw that the ground car carried only a uniformed driver, whom he recognized as their usual minder, Captain Tarlax.
The Ophiuchian underofficer parked the car a short distance away from the two Space Rangers, then emerged and approached Jones. Saluting, he said, “Commander Jones, I have been ordered to bring you to Analka Vainda Govornox.”
Returning the salute, Jones said, “For what reason?”
“The Suzerain requests your presence,” said Tarlax.
Jones had intended to seek an audience with Cleolanthe to request a departure time of 0300 for the Orbit Jet. If she wanted to see him as well, so much the better. “Very well, Captain. Lead the way.” Turning to Winky, he added, “Keep an eye on the Ophiuchians here. When the Orbit Jet is in position, prepare for blast-off.”
“Yes, sir,” said the co-pilot, giving Jones a sharp salute, no doubt for the benefit of the watching Captain Tarlax. Jones returned the salute, then turned and followed the underofficer to the ground car.
* * *
Cleolanthe, Suzerain of Ophiuchius, was a woman with a problem, but it was one she thought she had found a solution to.
The problem was that, as Suzerain, she was expected to choose a consort. Not right away, thankfully; tradition allowed her several years to make her choice. Once she did, however, the balance of power in the Ophiuchius Group would be permanently altered, and Cleolanthe was happy with the balance of power the way it was.
The consort of the Suzerain was always an Ophiuchian military leader; it was the nature of their society that it be so. Every Ophiuchian military leader had his coterie of followers who owed their loyalty to him personally. The result was that the Ophiuchian military, which appeared to outsiders to be a monolithic institution, was actually riven with factions. Choosing a consort meant choosing one faction over another, and any faction that found itself out of power would devote all its time and resources to dislodging the faction that was currently in power.
Darganto, her current chief aide, was the head of the prestigious Green Brigade. His chief rival, Atlasande, was head of the equally prestigious Suzerain’s Own Guard. There were at least half a dozen other leaders of elite military units vying for the opportunity to become her consort, and choosing one meant disappointing all the others.
On top of that, whichever leader she chose would appoint his own loyal followers to the top positions within the Ophiuchian command structure, and his faction would become permanently lodged at the top of the Ophiuchian military hierarchy. That would make her consort the most powerful man in the Ophiuchius Group – in truth, more powerful than the Suzerain herself. Cleolanthe enjoyed exercising power, and she would find herself with a lot less to exercise once there was an official consort in the picture. Naturally, she wished to put the decision off as long as possible. Unfortunately, the longer she put it off, the more pressure there would be on her to make a final choice. Eventually, it would be too much for her to resist. She would have to choose, and having chosen, suffer a permanent eclipse of her power.
But there was a potential way out of her dilemma. Occasionally, a Suzerain would be able to short-circuit the entrenched factions of the Ophiuchian military by creating her own faction – one that was loyal to her rather than to her consort. The Suzerain's Own Guard itself had begun that way, formed by the young Suzerain Arielle nearly a hundred years earlier. It was rare, though, to find a man with sufficient prestige to serve as the head of a newly-created elite military unit. Cleolanthe had despaired of finding one for herself.
And then Rocky Jones had dropped out of the sky.
Jones was already a legend among the Ophiuchian military. He had personally foiled half a dozen schemes hatched by her predecessor, the Suzerain Lavinia. The last one, the Bernardus Affair, had been such a disaster for the Ophiuchius Group that Lavinia had been ousted, and Cleolanthe raised up in her place. If she could win Jones over to the Ophiuchian cause, it would not only enhance her own standing, it would give her the perfect figurehead to serve as the leader of a new faction – one that would belong to Cleolanthe herself.
Now, though, Jones was preparing to depart, his mission to abduct Professor Newton and the boy a failure. Cleolanthe couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Jones was just the man she was looking for, and with the Influencer at her disposal, she was certain she could make him hers.
And the fact that Jones was so handsome and dashing just added to her delight. Cleolanthe knew that she was going to enjoy having the Earthman as her consort. First, though, she would have to win him over.
Protocol did not require Cleolanthe to stand when Captain Tarlax escorted Jones into the influencer room, but she chose to do so anyway. He would find the show of respect flattering, which would put him in a more receptive mood for the Influencer. After Tarlax saluted and left, Cleolanthe gestured toward the chair in front of her desk. “Please, Rocky Jones, be seated,” she invited, giving the Earthman her most winning smile.
“Thank you, Cleolanthe,” Jones answered, with a polite nod of the head. What a contrast with the boy!
When the two had seated themselves, Cleolanthe said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here.”
“I was curious about that, yes,” said Jones.
“I’ll satisfy your curiosity, then,” Cleolanthe said, smiling serenely at her guest. “The truth is, Commander Jones, I couldn’t let you leave our planet without telling you how much I’ve enjoyed your visit. As you can imagine, we don’t have many visitors from the Space Rangers – certainly none as distinguished as yourself.”
Although Jones did not return her smile, he did bow his head in acknowledgement of her praise. It was, thought Cleolanthe, the perfect response to her statement. Reserved, yet respectful – just what she would have expected of a man of Jones’ obvious ability. “Thank you, Cleolanthe,” he answered. “I hope I was able to leave you with a good impression of our people.”
Cleolanthe let her smile widen. “Rest assured, Commander Jones, you have.”
Jones gave her another respectful nod, and said, “Then, with your permission, we'd like to blast off at oh-three-hundred." Cleolanthe was gleeful, though she managed to maintain her benevolent expression. Jones was so eager now to be gone. And yet, an hour from now, after his first exposure to the Influencer, he would be begging her to be allowed to stay.
She had a sudden vision of Jones’ crew, the silly co-pilot and the empty-headed navigator, returning to Earth with news of a second high-level defection to the Ophiuchius Group. It would leave the leadership of the UWSS in disarray, and Cleolanthe didn't doubt that she could turn the situation to her advantage. If the current government fell, Drake would be removed from the Office of Space Affairs. Would it be possible to arrange for Marcus Griffin to replace him? Cleolanthe filed the thought away for later consideration. Right now she had a consort to win over.
"So soon?” she cooed. “Does this mean you don't like it here? I would like to prolong your visit, Rocky." She let her hand glide across the top of her desk, coming to rest oh-so-innocently on the controls of the Influencer.
Jones remained polite, but now Cleolanthe could detect a hint of disdain in his voice. "And I would rather you didn't," he said. Oh, how she would enjoy wiping that disdain from his voice -- and his mind!
Cleolanthe continued to gaze at Jones’ handsome face, while the fingers of her left hand rested on the power switch of the Influencer.
* * *
Antonio DelPonte had watched the Ophiuchian technicians like a hawk while they repaired the Orbit Jet's rocket. Still, you couldn't be everywhere at once, and the Ophiuchians, unfortunately, could. Once the Orbit Jet had been winched into blast-off position, Winky had carefully gone over every system on the ship to make sure that the Ophiuchians hadn't left them any surprises. He was in the engine room, making sure the lateral stabilizers were functioning properly, when the airlock door opened, and Vena Ray rushed in. She gave the engine room a quick, frantic inspection while climbing swiftly up the ladder to the navigation room.
Winky emerged from behind the starboard oxygen feed line and said, "Hey, Vena, looking for me?"
Ray paused on the ladder to ask, "Where's Rocky?"
Under other circumstances, Winky would have made a gallant suggestion that Vena might prefer his own company, but her obvious sense of urgency dissuaded him. "He got a call from Cleolanthe," he told her. "What's reverse English for the government building?"
"Analka Vainda Govornox," Ray answered without hesitation.
"That's what the man said," Winky confirmed. "That's where Rocky is."
"Thanks, Winky," said Ray, climbing even more swiftly down to the deck and rushing out the airlock.
"Sure," he said to her departing figure. He paused for a moment to wonder what all the hub-bub was, then returned to the lateral stabilizer.
* * *
There hadn't been many opportunities for her to pout since Cleolanthe's elevation to Suzerain. Now that Rocky Jones had given her one, she meant to make the most of it. Pouting for all she was worth, she said, "How can you say that, Rocky? Don't you like me?"
It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud at Jones' expression. He was clearly not accustomed to dealing with pouting heads of state. Obviously choosing his words with care, he said, "However much I might like you, Cleolanthe, I have to leave now that the Orbit Jet is repaired. I'm sure you understand the concept of duty, and it's my duty to return to Earth." He rose from his seat, clearly meaning to emphasize the point that he would have to leave. "Do I have permission to blast off at oh-three-hundred?" he continued. "You have no right to detain us, you know."
"Please, Rocky, sit down," Cleolanthe urged him, still pouting. When he continued, pointedly, to stand, she couldn't resist baiting him. "Perhaps you'd rather blast off earlier," she said with an innocent expression. "Oh-two-thirty? The time you left Earth?"
Ah, yes, that got his attention! "How did you learn that?" he demanded.
Cleolanthe let herself smile. "I also know of the attack by an unknown space ship. And a great many other things. Shall I go on?"
"Yes," Jones said, slowly seating himself again. "This is very interesting." As though issuing an order to a subordinate, he added, "Please do."
She now had his complete attention. There would never be a better time to employ the Influencer. She allowed her left hand to move across the top of her desk to the controls while she said, "For instance, your mission to bring back Professor Newton . . . and the boy." She waited until saying the word "boy" before switching on the power. She thought it was a nice touch.
As the Influencer worked on Jones' mind, she said, "But they don't want to go back. Do they, Rocky?"
Jones stared up into the hypnotically flashing lights of the Influencer. Cleolanthe added, "And maybe you won't want to go back, either. Any more than they do." The Earthman was totally under her control, and Cleolanthe felt giddy with the sheer power of it. To sieze a man's mind, and twist it into any shape she chose! By all the Old Ophiuchians, what couldn't she accomplish with this device to aid her? Cleolanthe felt as though the whole universe lay at her feet. From now on, nothing could stand in her way!
* * *
Vena Ray hurried through the half-human, half-alien corridors of Analka Vainda Govornox. She still wasn't sure what had happened to Bobby Matthews. The Ophiuchians must have done something to him, but what? The visit with Rocky Jones in the Orbit Jet must have had some effect after all, allowing Bobby to shake off whatever conditioning he had been subjected to. But could the boy keep it up? He was only ten years old, after all. What if whatever-it-was proved too strong for him? That was Vena's worst fear -- that she would bring Jones back with her to the Gray Observatory, only to find that Bobby had returned to being the stranger they had known for the past week.
Fortunately, Cleolanthe's order that the crew of the Orbit Jet be given complete freedom of movement must still be in effect, because none of the government officials or military personnel that Ray passed attempted to stop her.
At last, she reached the topmost level of Analka Vainda Govornox and found her way to the office where Cleolanthe had met them a week earlier. Vena Ray tried to open the door, and found that she couldn't. Was Rocky Jones trapped within? Perhaps he had already finished his meeting with Cleolanthe and was on his way back to the Orbit Jet. Should she go back to the ship, or should she keep searching for Rocky here in Cleolanthe's palace? She knew that the fate of Bobby Matthews and Professor Newton lay in her hands, and with them, perhaps, the fate of every person in the UWSS. Vena Ray was ready to go mad from the indecision that tore at her.
Stop! she ordered herself. Stop and think! She was a Ray, a member of one of the most powerful, successful families in the Solar System. She could deal with this! She just had to look at the situation logically, and reason out what to do.
If Jones had gone back to the Orbit Jet, then Winky would tell him that Vena was looking for him in Analka Vainda Govornox, and he would come back for her. In that case, the logical thing to do was to remain here. So. Assume that he has not gone back. Assume that he is still in Cleolanthe's office. How can she reach him if the door is locked?
In the Ophiuchius Group, everybody is under surveillence at all times, even the Suzerain herself. If she couldn't enter Cleolanthe's office, she could still find out what was happening there. The Old Ophiuchians thought in terms of social spaces, and their latter-day heirs did the same. The Suzerain's observers ought to be close to her physically as well as socially. They would, in fact, be right next door.
There were a number of unmarked doors in the outer foyer of the Suzerain's office. Unmarked by human standards, anyway. But the Ophiuchians had a fascination for colors, and the color associated with the ruling caste was black. There were two black doors leading out of the foyer. One went into the Suzerain's office. The other . . .
Vena Ray tried the other black door, and it opend for her. A corridor led to an office which was, for the present, unoccupied. There was a window in one wall, and beyond the window . . .
Vena felt a surge of triumph. There was Cleolanthe sitting behind her desk, and Rocky Jones in a chair in front of it. But then Vena felt her sense of triumph drain away. Jones was sitting rigidly, staring at the model of the 70 Ophiuchi system above Cleolanthe's desk. The two suns of the model were flashing in a complex rhythm, and even from the far side of the window, Vena could feel a hint of their hypnotic power. For Jones, sitting directly in front of them, it must be overpowering. How could she distract him?
She finally settled for pounding on the glass of the window and shouting his name. Cleolanthe turned to glare at her, and Jones . . .
She could see his eyes twitch away momentarily from the flashing suns, in her direction, before returning. She continued to pound away at the window, calling to him, and again his eyes were drawn away from the suns. Jones clenched his eyes shut, shook his head, lurched out of the chair, and stumbled towards the door of the office. Could he open it from the inside?
Vena didn't dare wait to find out. She ran from the observation room, down the corridor, and out into the foyer, in time to see the door to Cleolanthe's office open, and Jones stumble out. Grabbing him by the hand, she pulled him away, and he followed after her.
The two of them fled down the corridors of Analka Vainda Govornox, down to the garage in the sublevel. Ray's first impulse was to climb into one of the two hovercars and make for the Gray Observatory as quickly as possible, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Cleolanthe would have the whole of Ophiuchius City on the lookout for them. They would have to rely on stealth rather than speed to reach the observatory. Still, there was no reason to make it any easier for the Ophiuchians . . .
After guiding a still-groggy Jones into the passenger seat of a nondescript military ground car, Ray hurried over to one of the hovercars and seated herself at the controls. Now the Ophiuchians' prediliction for antiquated vehicles came in handy; she herself had an antique hovercar just like it, and within moments she had it powered up and hovering in the garage. She carefully maneuvered until her hovercar was directly above the other, then cut the power. She felt the bottom drop out of the world, then a sudden jar and a terrible noise like a landslide of metal drums.
When the jarring stopped, she carefully climbed out of the hovercar's open window, then dropped to the concrete floor of the garage. One hovercar was now resting askew on the crumpled remains of the other, and both were clearly out of commission. Nodding to herself, she turned away from the wreckage and took her seat at the controls of the military ground car. A minute later, they had passed through the gate of Analka Vainda Govornox and were cruising through the twilit streets of Ophiuchius City.
* * *
Rocky Jones, Consort to the Suzerain Cleolanthe, stood within the vast throne room of Analka Vainda Govornox. Beside him stood the beautiful, alluring Cleolanthe, the woman of his dreams, in her formal black gown and shining tiara. Before him stood the massed ranks of his own elite military unit, the Masters of Space, each one a hand-picked veteran of the Ophiuchian Grand Fleet, personally loyal to the Suzerain and her Consort.
And beyond the hall, beyond Analka Vainda Govornox, beyond Ophiuchius Prime, beyond the Curtain of Space, lay the United Worlds of the Solar System, the great enemy of the Ophiuchian people. It would be Jones' task, in the Suzerain's name, to destroy the UWSS, and bring the many planets and moons of the Solar System under the rule of the Ophiuchius Group. With that done, the remaining worlds of the human race would fall into his hands, and all of humanity would be united under his rule. He would be Master of the Universe!
"Rocky!"
The throne room vanished. Jones sat in the passenger seat of a ground car, passing through the streets of Ophiuchius City. The suns had set, and the stars were coming out. Beside him was a woman who was not Cleolanthe, her hair light rather than dark, wearing a brilliant blue dress rather than a somber black gown. For a moment, Jones did not know her.
The woman in blue spared a moment from the task of driving the car to give him a troubled glance. "Rocky, are you all right?"
Then, like the sonic boom of a low-flying space ship, the memory swept over him, leaving him stunned. "Vena!" he exclaimed.
Another glance, this time filled with joy. "Oh, Rocky, thank goodness! I was worried about you."
He remembered now. Cleolanthe's office, their interview, the secrets of his departure time and mission spilling from her. And then, shining lights . . .
For a moment, Jones was back in the throne room, plotting the destruction of the UWSS, but he blinked, and was with Vena again.
He spoke aloud. "Cleolanthe used some sort of . . . device on me. Tried to . . . get in my mind. She wanted me to defect to Ophiuchius! She wanted . . . . " He let the rest of the thought die away.
"I think she did the same thing to the Professor and Bobby," Vena said. "That's why they were acting so strangely."
Jones nodded. It made sense. He had only been subjected to Cleolanthe's device for a few minutes. The Professor and Bobby had been here on Ophiuchius Prime for months. Who knew how long they had been exposed to it?
Vena explained to him how Bobby had shaken off the effects of Cleolanthe's mind control ray, and urged her to find him and bring him back to the Gray Observatory. She had followed him to Analka Vainda Govornox, and interrupted Cleolanthe's attempt at mind control.
"Well done, Ranger Ray," Jones said simply.
A wide grin briefly lit up Vena's face, before she assumed a suitably grave expression and said, "Thank you, sir."
Vena drove through the brightly-lit grounds of the Academy of Science, and the bulk of the Gray Observatory was visible ahead of them.
"Vena," Jones said, "after we reach the observatory, I need you to drive back to the Orbit Jet and tell Winky everything that's happened. You have to be ready to blast off the moment I return with the Professor and Bobby."
Vena was silent for a moment before saying, "Yes, sir. We'll be ready for you."
* * *
Bobby met Jones in the foyer of the observatory. He was dressed in a replica of the Ranger dress uniform of blue and white, and he rushed over to Jones and embraced him. "Rocky! You made it!" he exclaimed.
Jones spared a moment to return the boy's embrace. "Vena told me what happened," he said. "It's good to see you back to normal."
Bobby grinned up at him. "It's good to be back to normal!" Then the grin vanished. "But the Professor isn't. Rocky, we've got to help him!"
"Lead the way, Bobby," Jones told him, and the boy did.
An Ophiuchian guard still stood outside Professor Newton's laboratory. He made no sign that he was aware of Jones as he and Bobby entered; evidently, news of his escape from Analka Vainda Govornox hadn't reached here yet.
Inside, Professor Newton was sitting at a table, staring at a beaker of colored fluid in an unfocused way. His lab coat was draped carelessly over one of the countertops. He ignored the arrival of Jones and his ward.
"Professor!" Bobby called out.
As he had been during their first meeting a week before, Newton was slow to respond. After a long moment, he looked up from the beaker and mumbled, "Yes?"
"Professor, Rocky is here to take us home!"
The effect on Newton was profound. His body stiffened, and he quickly rose from the chair. His expression became obstinant, and he stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back. "Nonsense, Bobby. This is our home."
Bobby looked helplessly up at Jones for a moment, then turned back to Newton. "You've got to come with us, Professor. I want to go back."
"No," Newton insisted. "I refuse. I refuse to leave Ophiuchus. This is my adopted land, and I prefer to remain here."
Bobby turned back to Jones. "He doesn't mean it, Rocky. He doesn't know what he's saying."
Newton looked at his ward in disappointment. "Oh, Bobby," he murmured.
"Please, Rocky," said Bobby, "get us out of here right away."
Jones heard the sound of footsteps coming from outside the laboratory, and realized with a start that the guard outside could hear everything they said. Did he understand English? Jones went to the door and, peering outside, carefully closed it. He turned back to Bobby and told him, "Vena and Winky are standing by in the space ship. Now, we've been allowed to come and go as we wish. If we're lucky, we can make it for a fast blast off."
Jones took Bobby by the hand, and led him toward the door, his head turned back to see that Bobby had taken hold of Newton's sleeve and was dragging him along. Newton hung back, muttering, "No! No!"
Turning back to the door, Jones was shocked to see Darganto and another Ophiuchian soldier standing in front of it, both with weapons trained on him. They must have entered the laboratory while Bobby was down in the foyer, and been hidden behind the open door the whole time.
A look of relief spread across Newton's face as he stepped away to stand at Darganto's side. "Ah, Darganto, my good friend!" he exclaimed.
Ignoring Newton, Darganto called out, "Drapax." The door opened, and the guard entered.
"Di Professor ent Bobby dekonda mando," Darganto ordered the guard.
Calmly, Drapax took hold of Bobby's shoulder and led him toward the door. Newton joined them, putting his arm around Bobby and saying, "Come along, Bobby, come along, I've already told them we prefer to remain here."
Bobby called out, "Rocky! No! I won't go! I want to stay with Rocky!" However, the Ophiuchian guard pushed him out of the laboratory, closing the door behind him.
Jones found himself facing the two armed Ophiuchians, his rescue attempt a failure. Darganto had been one step ahead of him the whole time.
* * *
"Rocky!"
Cleolanthe heard a muffled voice and a frantic banging noise coming from her left. Looking over, she was appalled to see the Orbit Jet's navigator standing in the Surveillance Room, pounding on the window and calling Jones' name over and over. What was she doing here in Government Headquarters? Who had let her into the Surveillance Room?
Looking back at Jones, she was astonished to see him with his eyes shut tight, shaking his head, and rising up from the chair. Stunned into immobility, Cleolanthe sat helplessly behind her desk as her would-be consort stumbled toward the door to the foyer. He fumbled with the latch for a moment, then had the door open and was gone.
It took a moment for Cleolanthe to take it all in. Her chosen consort had been stolen from right in front of her! The Influencer had been defeated! Her mind dazed by the unexpected turn of events, Cleolanthe absently switched the Influencer off.
Vital seconds passed while Cleolanthe tried to work out what to do. Should she try to pursue Jones and the girl? No, she told herself. I am Suzerain of Ophiuchius. I do not chase fleeing prisoners. That's what I have underlings for.
She switched on the special intercom that communicated directly with her chief aide's office. "Darganto! Darganto!" she barked. "See me at once!"
Darganto of course would come to her true office, not this mock-up. Cleolanthe rose from the desk and made her way to her office.
She sat and fumed while waiting, and was in a foul mood indeed by the time Darganto appeared before her.
Her aide entered the office, saluted, and waited for her to speak.
"Darganto, I had Rocky Jones in the Influencer Room, and was attempting to suborn him away from Earth, but we were interrupted by his navigator, and they have escaped," she explained. Of course, she hadn't told her chief aide ahead of time of her plan to win Jones over and take him as her consort.
Darganto was circumspect enough not to ask why Cleolanthe had been using the Influencer on Jones. He simply said, "What are your orders, Suzerain? Shall I have their ship impounded?"
Cleolanthe had been thinking about this. "No. That would be an act of war, and we're not ready to face the UWSS in open war yet. Besides, Jones will be attempting to carry out his mission to abduct Professor Newton and the boy and take them to Earth. I want you to go to the observatory with an armed force and guard them."
"And if Jones does attempt to kidnap the Professor and the boy?" Darganto inquired.
"Capture him if possible," Cleolanthe ordered, "and return him to me."
Darganto saluted. "As you order, Suzerain."
"Good. Dismissed."
Darganto saluted again, turned, and marched out of Cleolanthe's office. She wasn't expecting to hear from him again until he reached the Gray Observatory, but mere minutes later, he appeared on her viseograph, the garage visible behind him. "Suzerain, I regret to report that both hovercars are damaged, sabotaged by Jones. They are unusable."
Cleolanthe felt her anger flare up again. "Then take a ground car! Hurry! Jones will already be on his way!"
"As you order, Suzerain," Darganto said, and saluted before vanishing from the screen.
While she waited to hear from Darganto, Cleolanthe's mind returned to the matter of Jones' abduction from the Influencer Room. How had that empty-headed navigator known where to find him? How had she found her way into the Surveillance Room? After Jones had been recaptured and conditioned and the Orbit Jet sent on its way back to Earth, there would have to be a thorough investigation conducted. She had had Jones in the palm of her hand, and now there was a very real danger that they might lose not just him, but also Professor Newton.
Newton's defection had been the perfect start to her reign as Suzerain. It had made all the Ophiuchian military factions sit up and take notice. She would be no Lavinia, stumbling from one disaster to the next. And now . . . disaster stared her in the face.
The incoming call light lit up on her viseograph, with Darganto's private code appearing on the telltale below. She opened the connection and said, "Yes, Darganto?"
Darganto stood in Professor Newton's laboratory. Jones was standing in the center, covered by one of Darganto's men. "Rocky Jones was trying to force Professor Newton to leave Ophiuchius," Darganto reported.
Cleolanthe felt her spirits soaring, but she kept her features immobile. And Darganto's report had been oddly phrased. He hadn't mention . . . "And the boy?" she asked.
"He's been . . . he's been influenced, Cleolanthe."
Impossible! Somehow, Jones had managed to free the boy of Cleolanthe's conditioning! She felt her plans tottering on the brink of destruction. If the Influencer could be counteracted, then her great advantage would be lost. How had he done it? She must learn Jones' secret.
"Have Rocky Jones step forward," she told Darganto. He motioned Jones toward the viseograph, keeping his blaster trained on the Space Ranger. The soldier kept pace with him, his own blaster never wavering from Jones' body.
When Jones stood before the viseograph, Cleolanthe said icily, "So this is the way you repay the freedom I have granted you."
Jones stood, silent and impassive.
Rage threatened to overcome Cleolanthe, and though she managed to school her features, her voice betrayed her as she barked, "Darganto!"
"Yes, Cleolanthe."
"Bring Rocky Jones to Analka Vainda Govornox. It will be his decision to remain on Ophiuchius."
This time, there would be no troublesome Earth woman to interfere with the Influencer. Jones would receive the full treatment, and when he was done, he would belong to Cleolanthe!
On the viseograph, Jones seemed to stumble, and that brought him close to Darganto's soldier. Moving almost too swiftly for Cleolanthe to follow, he had knocked the soldier's blaster from his hand, then swung around to deal a blow to Darganto's chin that left the Marshal lying stunned on the ground. Jones swung back to grapple with the disarmed soldier, then knocked him to the ground with a second swing of his fist. While Cleolanthe's men both lay stunned on the floor, Jones fled the laboratory.
Ruin staring her in the face again, Cleolanthe shouted, "Darganto! Darganto!"
* * *
Rocky Jones hurried along the corridor leading away from Professor Newton's laboratory-cum-prison, the knuckles of his right hand throbbing from the punches he had landed on the chins of Darganto and his man. How many men did Darganto have patrolling the Gray Observatory? Enough, Jones assumed, to make his recapture a near-certainty if he spent too long making his getaway.
Jones spotted a door leading out to the walkway that circled the observatory's second floor. Full night had fallen while he had been speaking to Professor Newton, and that decided him. In the darkness, he would be harder to find.
The stars were shining in the sky above, but neither of Ophiuchius Prime's moons were visible. There was enough light flooding the grounds of the Academy of Science to let him peer through the gloom. No guards were in sight. Keeping to the shadows, Jones made his way to the steps leading down to the ground. The main entrance to the observatory was brightly lit, and Jones could see a ground car parked nearby, its glossy lemon-yellow paint making it look oddly out of place here among the stark buildings of Ophiuchius City. The Professor and Bobby were seated in the ground car, while the guard Drapax paced back and forth beside it.
Jones was trying to work out a way to distract Drapax when he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. He ducked into a shadowed corner, and stood waiting. The footsteps drew closer, and then Jones could see Marshal Darganto peering around, a blaster in his hand. Darganto strode over to the top of the stairs that Jones had just vacated, and his attention was focused on the ground car below.
Leaping from concealment, Jones knocked the blaster from the Marshal's hand, then clamped his hands around the man's throat, pressing him against the balustrade. Darganto's head and shoulders hung out over empty space, with a thirty-foot drop to a concrete road below him.
"Who told you about my flight to Ophiuchius?" Jones demanded. "Who's your man on Earth?"
Darganto attempted to free himself, and Jones tightened his grip. Pushing the other man further over the balustrade, he demanded, "Tell me! Who's your spy on our planet?"
Deciding that Darganto would refuse to answer, Jones lifted him from his feet and prepared to send him over the balustrade. Darganto suddenly gasped out, "Griff. Griff in the Space Ranger service."
Shocked, Jones barked out, "Did you say Griff?" Darganto took advantage of Jones' moment of stunned disbelief to pull himself away from the balustrade. Recovering himself, Jones punched Darganto in the jaw again, bringing a fresh wave of agony to his hand while the Ophiuchian fell unconscious to the floor.
Ignoring Darganto's fallen blaster, Jones hurried over to the steps. He silently made his way down until a turning showed him a uniformed man standing guard over the final length of the steps.
It was only a ten foot drop to a patch of grass and bushes, and instantly Jones was over the side of the steps. He landed on his feet, and immediately crouched down, but the sound of his landing had attracted Drapax's attention. The Ophiuchian guard drew his blaster and began warily staring out into the darkness. He paid no attention to his prisoners, though, and that proved his undoing. Bobby rose from the car seat and sent Drapax stumbling with a well-aimed shove in the back.
Jones raced across the road to the car while Drapax recovered and turned back to deal with Bobby. A kick sent the blaster out of the guard's hand, and another blow from Jones' aching fist laid him out on the ground.
Climbing into the ground car, Jones quickly had the engine started. He paused briefly to return Bobby's grin. "Can't lick a couple of Space Rangers, can you, Bobby?" Then they were off.
* * *
Antonio DelPonte was still pondering the astonishing news Vena Ray had brought him. Cleolanthe had been using a mind control ray on Professor Newton and Bobby! She had been using it on Rocky himself when Vena found him. But Bobby had shaken off the effects, and now Rocky was at the observatory, rescuing the mind-controlled captives.
Watching the viseograph, DelPonte saw a lemon-yellow ground car race onto the white granite of the landing field and pull to a stop next to the Orbit Jet. Inside, he could see Rocky with the Professor and Bobby. He heard Jones say, "Quick, Bobby, up the ladder!" before helping Professor Newton out of the car.
DelPonte climbed out of his crash chair and down the ladder to the navigation room. "Hey, Vena, here comes Rocky with the Professor and Bobby. It looks like trouble. We better prepare for blast-off."
The navigator followed him up the ladder to the pilot room and climbed into the pilot's crash chair. "On the double, Vena," he told her as he belted himself in, "secure blast-off harness and ascend ladder."
Ray clumsily secured her blast-off harness, then asked, "What was that last thing, Winky? Do what to what?"
The events of the last hour must finally be getting to her, DelPonte realized. Considering everything she had accomplished today, the co-pilot was willing to cut her a little slack. "Never mind," he told her, "I'll get it." He reached over to the pilot's controls and retracted the Orbit Jet's external ladder, then fired up the engines and set the launch count-down for twenty seconds.
Opening the intercom switch to the navigation room, DelPonte warned Jones, "Rocky, we're blasting off!" Their crash chairs settled back into blast-off position, and the controls counted down to zero.
There was a mighty roar, and it felt as if a giant hand was pressing DelPonte back into his crash chair.
What would the Ophiuchians do when they saw the Orbit Jet rising from the landing field without clearance? He remembered Vena telling him that the Ophiuchians reacted badly to unexpected situations, seeking orders from their superiors rather than acting on their own initiative. He could only hope the crews manning the Ophiuchians' force beams reacted that way, or the Orbit Jet was going to be in for a very short trip.
The initial blast-off from a planet always seemed to last an eternity to DelPonte, as he lay helpless in his crash chair while the ship's automatic controls guided the ship into space. This time, wondering whether an Ophiuchian force beam was about to sieze control of them, was like an infinity of eternities. DelPonte felt as though he had aged a century when the blast-off acceleration finally eased off and he was able to take hold of the controls.
He glanced over at Vena Ray, and was pleased to see that she had regained her composure. "Good work, Vena," he told her.
"I wonder how our passengers are," she answered with a grin. "Rocky Jones, for instance."
DelPonte chuckled as he opened up the intercom to the navigation room again. "Prepare for artificial gravity in ten seconds," he warned. When his countdown reached zero, he slid over the lever that charged up the gravity plates, and intoned, "Go to work, Gravin' Gerty, and don't lose your grip."
When the Orbit Jet's artificial gravity had been established, he told Vena, "Go ahead and check up on them." Nodding, Vena undid her blast-off harness and rose to her feet.
* * *
Rocky Jones sat at the Orbit Jet's navigation station, his mind in turmoil as he felt the artificial gravity come online. Again and again, he had replayed the tense seconds with Darganto, preparing to send him over the edge of the balustrade, only to hear the man's desperate, strangled, "Griff. Griff in the Space Ranger service."
Was it possible that Darganto had lied to save his life? From what Jones knew of the Ophiuchians, it was not. A man in Darganto's position, chief aide to the Suzerain and head of the legendary Green Brigade, would have died to keep the secret, if he thought it was important enough. However, if he didn't think it was important enough, if he thought his own life was more valuable, he would tell the truth. To lie in such a situation would be beneath him.
"Griff, a traitor right in headquarters," Jones muttered to himself. It was almost as bad, in its way, as Professor Newton's defection. Marcus Griffin was a rising star in the Space Ranger service. His appointment as Secretary Drake's chief aide had been the culmination of a meteoric career. What could the Ophiuchians have offered him that would be worth more to him than that?
The door to the pilot room opened, and Vena Ray entered. Her triumphant smile disappeared as she saw his downcast expression. "What are you frowning about, Rocky?" she said in concern. "We won! The adventure's about over."
"That's what you think," Jones said with foreboding. "Just wait and see."
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