Agent Franklin of the Terran Empire Command sat in the reception area of the space station terminal and pondered the strange world of the Galactic spying game, while he waited for a colleague to join him. He had imagined his squeaky clean boss would still be there when he reached his own retirement age, yet all of a sudden he was 'promoted' to a job located in the far corner of the Galaxy. How much this promotion was due to merit and how much it was to do with the fact that his wife, and ex agent, Candy, had become an intergalactic porno-pop star was open to conjecture. It was certainly something of a surprise to find that his replacement, who had arrived two weeks early was young, attractive and very female indeed. Her management techniques were something of the cutting edge variety. She had begun to interview all of the agents under her command on a one to one basis. Each interview had followed a similar pattern. Having introduced herself, she explained how she valued teamwork and felt it important to bond with all her team. She'd then removed her clothes and a rather energetic bout of bonding followed. She had interviewed almost all of her staff in this manner before security discovered her bogus cover and had her removed back to the psychiatric hospital where she was undergoing treatment for nymphomania. A top level investigation was underway to discover who had breached the security codes. Franklin's greatest regret over the matter was that she hadn't got round to 'interviewing' him before she was found out. Still, it was good to know that he worked with so many caring colleagues who had almost unanimously agreed that they should go and visit her in the hospital, where by all accounts, her program of treatment was meeting with very little success. Franklin's musings were brought to an abrupt halt as he recognised a face from his past come sauntering into the reception area. Jason Blynde, once on the TEC's 'most wanted' list. Thanks to a tip off from Franklin himself, Candy had arrested him before her career move. He must have escaped from custody. Cursing that he'd had to leave his blaster at the embarkation point, he leapt to his feet. "Stop that man!" he shouted, pointing at Blynde, "he's a dangerous criminal!" He dived at Blynde, felling him with a rugby tackle and a scuffle ensued until they were separated by station security officers. "I'm Agent Franklin of Terran Empire Command," he explained, pulling out his I.D. and this man is-" "Agent Blynde, Terran Empire Command," he replied smoothly, adjusting his jacket and pulling out his own I.D. Franklin's jaw dropped in disbelief for a moment. "There's obviously been some misunderstanding, chaps," Blynde continued. "It's a fake," Franklin cursed, "he's a top class con-man." One of the security guards scanned both of their I.D.'s. "Both genuine," he stated. "These things can't be faked." He regarded the two men. "Looks like you two need to sort yourselves out." "Thank you officer," Blynde said smiling, taking Franklin by the arm and leading him away. "Lovely to see you again, old chap," he continued, ushering Franklin towards the exit. "This has got to be some sort of sick joke," Franklin blustered. "I'm on board now, old chap. You know; set a thief to catch a thief, poacher turned gamekeeper. I managed to convince the powers to be it would be in the best interests of the Galaxy's security to have me on their side rather than rotting away on some penal colony on the far side of the Universe." "I was supposed to be working with a computer expert," Franklin continued, a cold feeling beginning to grip his stomach. "And here I am," Blynde assured him. "I've got a ship ready and waiting to take us to the planet, Lyisha, where we're going to investigate one Roberto Crook who seems to have big ideas; planning some sort of revolution by all accounts. Only thing is, no-one can find his plans, despite scans by the most sophisticated surveillance techniques on all his data sources." He paused. "Where convention fails, the devious mind will ferret it out. And here I am." "I had a bad feeling about this case from the beginning," Franklin countered weakly, "as soon as I discovered the man's name was Crook. Now things are getting worse by the minute!" "Come on old chap," Blynde responded slapping Franklin on the back, "think what fun it's going to be working on the same side this time!" Franklin regarded him suspiciously. As far as he was concerned, Blynde had at least two sides, one for each of his faces. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Franklin decided that although Blynde might not be much of a human being, as far as piloting a space ship went, he was pretty good. The journey to Lyisha had been smooth and fast. He'd managed to keep out of Blynde's way for most of the trip, but as the planet began to fill the viewer screens, he made his way to the Control Room. As Franklin walked down the gangway, he cursed as the power system dipped and the magnetic floor lost its ability to function. He began to float in the air, cartwheeling slowly over and over. The emergency siren began to wail. With some effort and a lot of cursing, he corrected his spin through the air, and using the hand holds, dragged himself to a seat in the control room, where Blynde was fighting with the controls. He strapped himself in as the ship once more lurched and for a second they were enveloped in total darkness. Franklin looked out of the window to note with some alarm they were spinning down towards the planet's surface. Just when it seemed they were about to burn up, Blynde got everything back on line and with some effort, steered the ship back into a proper landing orbit. The spaceport swung into view and they made a rather faster landing than was recommended in the training manuals. Franklin had maintained a silence to that point, not wishing to disturb Blynde's concentration. "What the hell happened?" he asked. "Well, old chap," Blynde explained a little breathlessly, "another ship was coming in to land; it cut right across our spacelane. It ignored our warning beam. We had to change course rather sharply to avoid it." "Did you get its registration?" Franklin enquired. "The bloody maniac needs to be locked up!" "Well, old boy," Blynde responded, studying the information from his scanner, "I know who owns it, but I doubt if it'll do any good us protesting. It's a ship belonging to our friend, Roberto Crook. Unfortunately for us, along with many other things here on Lyisha, he owns the spaceport. "Still, we're not going to let him get away with it are we?" Franklin decided. "What's the idea?" Blynde asked. "It'll give us a good reason to try and get an inside look at Crook's set up, under the guise of outraged tourists who nearly suffered a nasty accident through his neglect." "Okay, let's give it a try," Blynde decided, "but if we get inside I'll be very surprised. If this man is as important as rumours suggest, he won't grant a couple of mere tourists an audience, especially if they've come to complain." "Maybe," Franklin agreed, "but perhaps we won't have to bother trying to enter his inner sanctum just yet." "What do you mean?" Blynde enquired, a puzzled expression on his face. "Over there," Franklin pointed at the scanner. "A group of people have just left a private space-ship and are making their way into the disembarkation lounge. That was the ship that nearly hit us; yes?" Blynde nodded. "Let's get out of here and over there then, pronto," Franklin decided, "before they're safely off the site." Franklin disembarked and began to run towards the group of people as they vanished into the lounge. He burst through the door to find them having taken seats and sipping drinks. A rather ungainly and antiquated looking android stepped forward. "Do you realise that this is private property?" he asked angrily. "What right do you think you have barging in here?" "I was on the Miria Free," Franklin shouted. "If it hadn't been for the pilots skill, I wouldn't be here now. What right have you got -" His voice trailed away as his eyes fell on the girl who was sitting at the table, staring at him. If she felt any emotion at him shouting his head off, she didn't show it. Her eyes were expressionless. The girls stare unnerved Franklin; he was unable to continue. She made him feel as if he was a small boy throwing a tantrum. "We don't like being interrupted," the android stated. "I'm the personal assistant to Roberto Crook. He pulled a ray gun out of his holster and pointed it at Franklin. "I think you'd better go." The girl stood up and came over to him. She guided him away from the android back towards the door. "I must apologise for the machine, Mr. O'Connell," she stated coolly. "I'm afraid his piloting is as bad as his manners. But he belongs to Mr. Crook, like most everything else here. He keeps him as a manservant out of sentimental reasons. But I do think it's best for you if you leave without making any more fuss." Franklin was struck dumb. O'Connell was a name he'd used on one of his missions undercover many years ago. How did this girl know about him? He nodded and turned; as walked towards the door, he quickly glanced back at the girl. Her eyes now seemed to be taunting him. It made him feel silly, as if he was some sort of joke. He left the reception area to find Blynde lounging about outside. He grabbed hold of his arm. "You were a lot of help weren't you," he cursed. "Discretion is often the best route in these circumstances," Blynde assured him. "Don't want to show all our cards at once, do we?" Franklin snorted and headed off towards their hotel, with Blynde ambling along behind. Later that day, Franklin studied the data on Crook and his companions. There was very little information on Crook himself. Before he'd arrived on Lyisha, his life was a complete mystery. The only information they had on him since he'd arrived merely showed that he was still very much a mystery man. He lived in secrecy, and never went anywhere without some sort of body-guard. There was some information on the android, Murdok. His data file was the most bulky. It contained a long list of records of murders that he'd been suspected of, but which had never been proven. There followed several pictures of insignificant underlings. Finally, the picture he was really looking for. Susan Whitford. The girl whose beauty had disturbed him so much. This image, taken a few years earlier, didn't really do her credit. She had a little girls face, and in this picture, obviously several years out of date, her light brown hair hung over her shoulders. Now it was cut short. The picture on the file, taken when she had won first prize at Lyisha University, showed her as little more than a schoolgirl. She was exceptionally intelligent and had taken a job with Crook as a computer consultant. The file was obviously as out of date as the picture. A computer consultant would not travel in one of Crook's private space-ships. Franklin discarded the file. He hadn't told Blynde about the possibility of his cover having been blown. He tried to imagine how he could be known to this girl. He called up his own service record, finding that he'd only used the name O'Connell on one mission and the possibility of the girl being involved in that case, or even present on the planet concerned, seemed totally unlikely. His thoughts turned back to her. He didn't really see where she fitted in. He could the killer android, but not the girl; none of her history, nor his personal assessment, suggested her involvement with a big time criminal.. One thing was for sure, Susan Whitford had certainly got under his skin. He began to pace up and down the room. It was over six hours later that a knock at the door woke Franklin from his slumbers. He pulled himself wearily out of his chair and walked over to the door, rubbing his eyes. The door opened to reveal Blynde leaning up against the wall, looking the worse for drink. "Are you all right?" he asked. "S'alright," he replied, staggering into the room and collapsing into a chair. "Been doin' research," he mumbled. He lay there sprawled out with an inane grin on his face. "I out drunk every creep in town," he announced rather proudly. "Did you get any useful information about Crook?" Franklin asked impatiently. Blynde pointed a finger at him. "No," he decided after a long pause. "There's something going on though. An uneasy feeling amongst the people. Talk of revolution. Not by the people. There's a man. Wrote down his address. Go and see him." He fumbled in her pocket for the piece of paper, dropping it on the floor and he bent down unsteadily and picked it up. "He wants to talk," he added. "Go and see him." "What about you?" Franklin asked. "Too pissed to move, old chap," Blynde decided. "I'll stay here and sleep it off." Franklin preferred to work on his own, though he didn't trust Blynde and wondered if he was as drunk as he seemed and whether he really would be sleeping it off while he was gone. Franklin made his way outside and hailed a passing 'cab. Boarding it, he punched out the code for the address on the piece of paper. The cab travelled downtown. The buildings lost the elegance they held in the vicinity of the space-port. The cab turned down a side-street. Franklin pushed his credit-card in the slot provided. His fare marked off, the doors opened. He found himself in a small, dirty street, which was overcrowded with rows of terraced houses whose dingy faces stared at him. The 'cab that was passing back down the street, looked oddly out of place in this area, and he realised that it would be almost impossible to catch one back from here, and he would certainly have to walk part of the way back. The house that he stood in front of seemed in urgent need of repair and it was hard to make out the number on the door. He consulted his piece of paper and finally decided that this was the address he wanted. He knocked on the door, which he noticed was ajar, but received no reply. After failing to get any response on trying a second time, he quickly looked up and down the street to ensure there was no-one looking, and then stuck his head around the door. The sight that greeted him made his whole body tense. Even for the squalor of the area, this room had obviously been disturbed. In fact, it looked as if a fight had taken place there, and recently by the stains that were still wet where bottles and jars had had their contents spilled where they were overturned and broken. His eyes caught sight of a pair of feet sticking out from under an overturned table. He ran over and pulled away the rubble to free a badly mutilated figure who appeared to retain only a small glimmer of life in his face. "Posh bloke sent you?" the man croaked. "Yes," Franklin confirmed. "They - got me. Must've found out that I knew. Revolution." "Who was it?" Franklin asked desperately, as the mans eyes closed and his body went limp. There was no reply. It was only a formality that Franklin felt his pulse. He knew he was dead. He remained kneeling beside the dead man for a few seconds when he realised that someone had come through the doorway. He got to his feet and turned very slowly. His eyes met with those of an old woman. A look of fear crept across her face. "I thought you had all gone," she said quietly, and without emotion. "I saw the 'car leave..." Her voice trailed away into a sob. "I didn't have anything to do with this," Franklin protested. "Oh?" the old woman replied, sounding dubious. "You saw the people responsible?" he asked. The woman looked at him without moving for a full minute before she replied. "Yes," she stated, "I saw them." "Do you know who they are?" "Yes." "Then you must call the police." She laughed bitterly. "What's the matter?" Franklin asked. "You are a stranger to Lyisha?" the old woman asked, emotion making her voice quiver. Franklin nodded. "It was the police," she explained. "But why?" Franklin asked. "What business did you have with my son?" she asked, looking suspiciously at him. "I'm an investigator," Franklin replied, deciding the partial truth would be best." "The police don't like spies," the old woman began to mutter, more to herself than him. "If I told them that you killed my son, I'd get a reward. Compensation. Well, partial compensation. If he hadn't started nosing around that Crook mans place, he'd still be alive. He had a good job there as well." Her attention returned to Franklin. She looked at him through slitted eyes. "I saw you kill my son," she announced. "Now just a minute," Franklin protested. "Are you crazy or something? We're both on the same side. What good will having me arrested do? Money won't bring your son back to life. He's dead. But with my help, those who killed him will be brought to justice at the hands of the Interstellar Patrol. If you want to avenge your son, tell me if you would be able to identify any of the police that killed him." The old woman looked uncertainly at him and then, brushing a tear out of the corner of her eye, nodded. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "it was the shock of seeing my son dead." She paused. "Yes," she continued, in a stronger voice, "I know the name of the one that was in charge. An android; not in uniform; Murdok. I watched through a window from outside. He was the one who killed my son." She paused again. "It will do no good though," she decided, "there is no hope of retribution against him as long as Crook is in power. I will not admit what I have told you to anyone else, so there is no use in bringing the Interstellar Patrol, or whatever it is, here." "But your son," Franklin argued. The woman cut him short with a shake of her head. "Please go now," she replied, "and don't return." "Is there something I can do to help?" Franklin asked. "No," the woman replied. "My friends will help me bury my son." There was a note of finality in the woman's voice that convinced Franklin that there was nothing to be gained from staying to argue. As he left and began to walk up the dingy street, he heard the old woman break down and cry uncontrollably. On returning to his hotel room, he found the area around his room swarming with police. He cursed, thinking he had fallen into a trap, but realised that there would be little point in turning and trying to run. He decided to bluff it out. He went up to one of the senior officers. "What's going on here?" he demanded. "Mr. Franklin?" the officer asked. Franklin nodded. "We have a warrant to search your room," the man replied. "Why?" Franklin enquired. "You are the travelling companion of a Jason Blynde?" the officer asked. Franklin nodded again. "We have a warrant here for his arrest for trading dangerous drugs, It is necessary to search your belongings as well, just in case you are carrying drugs as well." "Oh no," Franklin cursed. This was the last thing he'd expected. "There must be some sort of mistake," he bluffed, not being surprised at anything Blynde might be getting up to. The officer shook his head. A few moments later, a policeman emerged from Franklin's room and shook his head. "It's all clear," he stated. Another two officers emerged, assisting Blynde, who appeared as drunk as when Franklin had left him. He grabbed hold of his arm as they carried him past him. "Blynde," he cursed, "is it true?" He smiled at him with an inane grin on his face. "Shocking business, old chap," he slurred. The officer saluted and the party left. Franklin stood outside his room for a moment completely taken aback. He cursed and strode inside, slamming the door behind him. He was in for another surprise. He found a girl pulling her dress on. She regarded Franklin for a moment, and he back at her. She looked vaguely familiar. Yes, the receptionist. What the hell was she doing here! "You a friend of his?" she asked casually. "A business acquaintance," Franklin explained frostily. "And you -" "Here on business as well," she explained. "He ain't paid either, not that he got going, but hey, what about the emotional distress. Just stripped off when the cops burst in." She changed tack. "You lonely tonight, mister. Competitive rates, The pay here is shit, I need to supplement-" "I never mix business with pleasure," Franklin assured her. She left muttering about bandits. He cursed Blynde for his stupidity, then realised they might have found the disc on Crook's organisation that he'd hidden under the fitted carpet before he'd gone out. He quickly lifted up the floor covering. Luck seemed to be with him on this occasion, the disc appeared to be in exactly the same place as it had been when he'd gone out. The panic of a few seconds ago had washed all the anger out of his body and he decided it was time to reassess the position in the light of the latest facts that he'd obtained. It did indeed appear that the balance of power lay in the hands of Roberto Crook, and that there was some sort of revolution in the air. As far as Earth was concerned, it was the Governor who was supposed to hold the balance of power, for he was the Supreme Commander of the police force. Franklin decided that it was time he paid the Governor a visit. He wondered if he'd heard anything about a revolution and if he had, whether it had anything to do with Crook. He had a nasty feeling that Crook was planning to take control of Lyisha. Isolated, this would be bad enough, but Franklin knew only too well that there was a large number of Terran controlled planets that were just waiting for someone else to take a successful stand against rule by Earth. It could result in a Galactic War. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ The Governor of Lyisha looked and spoke like a very old diplomat; the type that should have been pensioned off years ago. He regarded Franklin across his large plush desk. "I'm afraid I can only spare you a few minutes," he said, "because I'm expecting a visit from Mr. Crook, He's a close friend of mine." The Governor spoke the words as if they were supposed to impress Franklin greatly. "I'll come straight to the point then," Franklin said. "What would you say if I told you that you were about to be overthrown and Terra's administration cast out." "I'd say that you made jokes in very bad taste," the Governor replied. "And," Franklin persisted, "that your friend Crook was behind it all." "I'd say that you were quite mad," the Governor replied, a stern note entering his voice. "I don't know why you've cooked up this preposterous story," he continued, "but whatever your intention is, I can only assume it is some way subversive to Terra's authority. I can't think of any planet in the Galaxy where there is less chance of there being a revolution. You might think we're all country bumpkins out here, but you can assure your friends back in T.E.C., that I've employed the most sophisticated techniques known to carry out surveillance on Mr. Crook and his associates, ridiculous though I thought the whole thing was, and there's nothing at all. No-one can mastermind a revolution without plans and there are none; our the surveillance procedures would have discovered them. This is a happy planet, with a near enough non-existent crime rate-" "What about the man the police murdered earlier today then?" Franklin interrupted. "What are you talking about?" the Governor asked. "There's been no murders on this planet for years. The only matter the police have had to act on was to arrest some drug addict." He paused. "Just a minute," he said, searching through his scanner, "what did you say your name was - Franklin. Ah yes." He produced the output that he was searching for. "I thought your name was familiar. You're a friend of that junkie. Well look here Franklin, we don't want any more nonsense from you, or I'll have you thrown off this planet. No doubt you thought this all up in one of your drugged dreams." Franklin stood up angrily. "Now you look here you stupid old fool," he shouted, losing his temper. He was cut short by a buzzer sounding on the Governor's desk. "That's Mr. Crook," the Governor stated. "I can't waste any more time with you, kindly leave before I have you thrown out." Franklin turned and angrily stormed out of the office. He returned to his hotel room to find Blynde laying on the floor, propped up against a chair. "Gotta drink?" he asked casually, as Franklin stopped dead in his tracks. "How in hell did you get in here?" he asked. "Have you broken out of jail?" "No," Blynde replied, pausing to blow a smoke ring. "I've been set free. They were very apologetic about it as well. All the charges against me have been dropped." "What's going on?" Franklin asked. "Do you mean they set you free just like that?" Blynde smiled. "Of course not, old boy. I bribed them. This place is corrupt as hell." He paused. "Say, was that babe still here when you got back? Did you, er, you know. She was hot for it." "Sleep off your booze," Franklin cursed. "I think it's time for a frontal assault. I'm going to Crook's private palace." It was a desperate and potentially foolhardy move, but this was a dangerous situation. The Governor was a senile old fool who probably believed everything Crook told him. No wonder the Terran garrison on the planet was so light. The Governor had obviously painted a picture of a garden of Eden on Lyisha to the Terran authorities. As he was walking out of the hotel foyer he was accosted by a group of police, headed by a man Franklin recognised from his files as Colonel Tom Smith, administrative head of the force. "Mr. Crook would like to see you," he announced in a statesman like voice. "Please come with me." "Do I have a choice?" Franklin asked. "No," Smith replied, "if you don't come peacefully, I have been instructed to shoot you in the legs." Franklin shrugged, and surrounded by police, was quickly ushered outside into a car which whisked him to Crooks huge home. He hardly had time to marvel at the architectural beauty of the palace as he was escorted to a room where he found Crook, surrounded by his entourage. Franklin quickly looked around for sight of the girl but neither her nor the killer Murdok appeared to be present. "I want to know why you've come to this planet," Crook stated without emotion. "I'm a tourist," Franklin replied, "and I demand an explanation for this outrageous behaviour." He was banking on the fact that the Governor had at least been discreet enough to not have blown his cover. "Don't bore me," Crook replied indifferently. "Each minute you refuse answer my questions, I shall have one of your fingers broken. If you refuse to talk after that, I will have you subjected to further tortures until you tell me the truth. I don't like the way you've been snooping about." Franklin was amazed at the way the man spoke such vicious words without emotion. He began to wonder if he was human, or an android like Murdok. Crook continued almost wearily. "You might as well confess. The Governor has told me all about you. You've exceeded your authority on this planet by a long way. I'll be taking you to the Governor's residence shortly and then you'll be deported." A silence fell over the room as Crook looked at Franklin with a cold stare. The silence was completely shattered as the door burst open. The killer Murdok appeared in the room, looking the worse for wear, and trying to restrain a figure that Franklin immediately recognised as Jason Blynde, dressed as a woman! "What is this?" Crook asked in an almost bored voice. "I caught her snooping about outside the palace in the grounds," Murdok explained. "I see," Crook replied indifferently. "Can I kill her now?" Murdok asked, a sadistic look on his face. "Why don't you ask him what he was doing out in the grounds?" Blynde shouted. "Don't listen to that slut," Murdok cursed. "He was trying to chat up your girl friend," Blynde continued. "His actual words were 'how about a real man loving you girl. Crook's no real man, he just keeps you as a trophy. You're just another of his tools. He don't never even kiss you." Franklin looked around. He could feel the air in the room become almost electrified. At last, Crook showed some emotion. The muscles twitched on his face and a nervous smile played at the corners of his lips. "Is this true?" he asked a terrified looking Murdok. Before he could reply, a cool clear 'yes' rang out across the room. Everyone in the room turned and saw Susan Whitford standing in the doorway. Her eyes quickly moved from Crook's to Murdok's and then to Franklin's; there they lingered for a second, sending an electric shock through his body. Crook sat there for a moment, his hands gripping the sides of his 'throne' so tightly that his knuckles stood out white. For a moment he stared at the ceiling. Then he looked at Blynde. He spoke with a voice that had regained its control. "How would you like to earn your freedom, young lady?" he enquired. "How?" Blynde asked, looking suspicious. "I want Murdok to show us how much of a man, or should I say, a mandroid, he really is. You, of course, may do all you can to resist him." He vaguely waved his hand in the direction of Murdok who was struggling in the arms of two of Crook's burly police officers, who had restrained him from leaving. Blynde looked wryly at Crook. "Okay mister," he replied, "though I don't see how I can beat an android, but just make sure he doesn't have any weapons on him." The police officers frisked Murdok, and satisfied that he was clean, they released him. He looked uncertainly at Crook, and then lumbered forward at Blynde, catching him in the stomach with his foot, who gasped sharply and staggered over onto the floor, clutching himself. Murdok's eyes were alight with a maniacal fury, as he lunged forward again, as Blynde writhed on the floor. His hand grasped Murdok's leg and tripped him over. They both got to their feet simultaneously and for a few seconds stood there raining blows on each other. Franklin's attention was suddenly removed from the fight as his eyes met with those of the girl, Susan Whitford. She seemed to be looking at him with an air of infinite sadness. His attention was ripped back to the fight as a huge thud echoed around the room and he saw Murdok topple to the floor. He averted his eyes as Blynde began to kick him up and down his body. Franklin's gaze moved to Crook who had allowed a sadistic smile to creep onto the edge of his lips. Blynde stopped his assault and smiled triumphantly at Crook. "If it was human, it'd be dead now," he proclaimed. Crook smiled distastefully. "Not much of a man, was he, even for a machine." He paused. "Take Murdok and lock him safely away." His gaze turned to the girl, Susan Whitford. "When we get back," he decided, "you can decommission it." His attention returned to Blynde, running his eyes up and down Blynde's body, obviously unaware that he was a man. "I could use you," he said. "You would be of great use to me." He snapped his fingers. His mood changed abruptly. "Pity you're another TEC agent," he sneered, "and soon to be a dead one." "You bastard," Blynde spat at Crook as two guards grabbed him. "You didn't expect me to let you live did you?" he asked. "You and your colleague know too much of my plan." His gaze switched back to Franklin. "After our little chat with the Governor, I'll be arranging your deportation, but of course, I don't imagine you'll ever be getting back to your H.Q. on Earth." "You know that if I do not show up, the Interstellar Patrol will be here," Franklin countered. "I doubt it," Crook replied, looking superior. "Anyway, if they got here in time, they would not find anything incriminating." "Now you're being naive," Franklin answered. "You can't run a planet without files and plans. You've got to have a store of data somewhere near at hand." "They would never find it," Crook insisted. "Nothing can be hidden from them," Franklin corrected, "they have instruments that can find anything -" Crook shook his head. "Only I know where the plans and data are kept and no-one will ever find them, I assure you. Anyway, enough of this; time to say your farewell to the Governor." Franklin and Blynde were ushered out into another room, where the Colonel drew a gun on them. He dismissed his guards. Satisfied that they were alone, he looked at them suspiciously. "How much do you know?" he asked. "You'd better tell me if you want to live." "Live?" Franklin asked, "but you have been ordered to kill us by Crook." "Pah," the Colonel spat, "Crook. He has no right to rule us. That power should belong to a Lyishan." "You?" Blynde asked, massaging his bruises. "Yes," the Colonel replied, "of course. After the revolution and the Terran forces have been wiped from the face of our planet, I shall assume control. But first, before I can rule, I must find the data. Do you know where it is?" "No," Franklin admitted. "To tell the truth when you had me arrested, I was on my way here to try and find something out." "Perhaps I should have killed you after all," the Colonel mused. "You will probably try and kill me anyway." "No," Franklin replied, "there is another way. From what I have seen of the Governor, he should be removed. He is almost senile. Help me remove Crook and I will recommend in my report, that you are made the new Governor." "How can I trust you?" the Colonel asked.
"You can't," Franklin replied, "so we must fight together on a mutual misunderstanding of each other. After all, our ultimate aim is the same - to remove Crook and place control of the planet with someone sensible. Let's face it, do you really hate the Terran authorities?" "No," the Colonel confessed dubiously, "all I want is Lyisha ruled by a Lyishan." "Then will you tell us what you know of Crook's plan?" Franklin asked. "There is a time when the Terran garrison changes over, and for a period of about an hour, there are no Terran forces on this planet at all. That is when Crook plans his take-over. It will just be a matter of overpowering the Governor and inhabiting the barracks. Whoever controls the barracks has a formidable armoury, enough to keep even the Interstellar Patrol at bay for some time. But when the changeover is, I do not know. That is Crook's secret." "But the Governor must know," Franklin replied. "Yes that is true," the Colonel confessed, "but he will not tell me. I asked him recently and he told me that it was none of my business. I think Crook may have told him not to give me any information. He is a pawn in his hands." "We must try again," Franklin decided. "When we go there, perhaps together we can persuade him." "I hope so," the Colonel replied. "I fear that Crook may be planning to remove me anyway once he gains power. I don't think he dares make his move yet, for he knows that the Police are behind me and loyal to my word. But I think he will use his own private army to take control of the barracks and with that armoury, he will not need to worry about the strength of the police." The group left Crook's private palace without further incident, and arrived at the Governor's house. He listened impatiently to their story. When they had finished, he tapped his fingers on the top of his desk for a few seconds before replying. When he spoke it was slowly and softly. "Mr. Crook has warned me of you on several occasions Smith," he said. "I'm afraid his fears appear to be confirmed. I know your story is quite ridiculous because the garrison is changing over at the moment, and I hear no sounds of your 'revolution', do you?" "I never did trust you Smith," Crook sneered. "I thought you'd try and double cross me. You'd've killed me long ago if you'd been able to find my data store." "What data store is this?" the Governor asked, sounding puzzled. "My data necessary to take over this planet and run it," Crook replied, pulling his own blaster. "You'd better join the other group, Governor. Just lower your gun to the floor nice and easy." The Governor went white, began to shake, and then with a look of horror on his face, dropped his weapon and moved very slowly over to where the other three stood. He looked at Crook. "It's impossible," he muttered, "you can't. You haven't got the machines to store the information; it was all checked out!" "Oh no!" Franklin exclaimed. "Of course..." "Worked it out, spy?" Crook sneered. Franklin looked at the girl sadly. "O'Connell," he stated. "That case was the only time I've ever been mentioned in the press. I was a witness to a killing, totally unrelated to the case I was on. You must have read about it and never forgot because you have a -" "Photographic memory," the girl admitted. "Yes, Anything I learn, I never forget." "You hold the plans," Franklin sighed sadly. "It's all in your head. No wonder we couldn't find it. Now we know!" "But you're all wrong-" Crook began. What he was going to say was stopped by the windows smashing open and Crook and the girl were blasted in a hail of death by an elite group of troopers. The Governor looked at Franklin with a smug expression on his face. "Thought I was a stupid old fool, did you," he gloated. "I just needed to find out Crook's data store, then I had him. I've been stringing him along for ages. I knew what he was up to. I just needed to prove it. Why do you think I got so pally with him. It was your friend, Blynde that finally convinced me." "Why believe him over me?" Franklin queried. "We went to the same public school and military regiment," Blynde replied. "One believes a chum, old chap, every time." He winked to Franklin knowingly. Franklin looked agasht at the girl's mutilated body, as the troops began to pull it out of the room. "Did you have to kill her?" he gasped at the Governor. "Even if she held the plans, it didn't mean-" "This is war," the Governor said pompously, "one life is a small price to pay surely." Franklin turned to Blynde who was shaking his head. Blynde looked at the Governor. "Off the beam on that one, old chap," he stated. "The girl was just a love lorn fool-" "With a photographic memory," the Governor countered. "Franklin realised it-" "Murdok holds the plans," Blynde sighed. "Why else do you think Crook kept such a dangerous and outdated android. The reason it was so cumbersome was the shielding; all those extra layers - to stop the scanners reading the sophisticated instrumentation and data inside it!" The Governor looked shocked. "Oh dear," he mumbled. He quickly regained his composure. "The loss of an innocent life is to be regretted, but if the revolution had gone ahead, there would have been many more." He looked at Franklin. "It was his fault," he added, shifting the blame, "he pointed the accusing finger." "Yes," Franklin sighed, "I did." He cast a final glance at the girl's dead body. "Come on, Blynde," he decided, "let's get out of here!" ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ As they returned to the Hotel's foyer, Franklin broke his silence. "You've been working behind my back on this case the whole time," he cursed at Blynde, "going to the Governor and pretending to be from the same school as him-" "It worked though didn't it," Blynde countered. "I convinced him enough to keep the old garrison on the planet when the new one arrived, so instead of being defenceless, there was twice the strength. He just needed that final bit of proof as to where the plans were being held. Let's face it Franklin, old chap, you didn't have a clue. Your head had been turned by a pretty face, and if you hadn't gone off half cock about that girl's photographic memory, she'd still be alive now." "I know," Franklin admitted sadly, "and I'm not one bit proud about that; not at all." He paused. "But how did you know it was Murdok." "Simple, old boy; it's like in all the classic 'whodunits' - it's always the butler whose the guilty party!" "I don't believe it," Franklin gasped. "That was how you based your case!" "And spot on too," Blynde responded. "I've been off the mark on all of this," Franklin admitted, "so it's not surprising I can't work out what your act was with all the drinking, and then dressing up as a woman." Blynde laughed. "You're looking for plots where they don't exist. I go through lots of phases; right now, I'm just a transvestite who likes a drink, that's all. Say, our ship out of here's not due 'til the morning, let's have a celebration drink or two. I could lend you one of my dresses, we're about the same size. Has anyone ever told you you'd look so pretty in pink.........." |