Mission Earth v08 Disaster by L Ron Hubbard.pdf

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Mission Earth Volume 08 Disaster

by L. Ron Hubbard

Scanned by TwilightK

Proofed/formatted by Warburner

Voltarian

Censor's

Disclaimer

This work is the worst sort of sensationalism and any potential reader has much better things to

do. There are no such court documents as claimed in this book. There are no such computer

readouts. There are no such ruins.

There is no planet Earth.

And that's that!

Lord Invay

Royal Historian

Chairman, Board of Censors

Royal Palace

Voltar Confederacy

By Order of

His Imperial Majesty Wully the Wise

Voltarian

Translator's

Preface

Lord Invay is getting out of hand.

First they give me this thing to translate and then they have him running around telling people

not to read it. I can't figure it out.

As long as I have your attention, I'm 54 Charlee Nine and I am fulfilling my obligation by

informing you that this work has been translated from Voltarian into your language, which, by the

way, doesn't exist. Pretty clever. I have used "black hole" in this work, although I wish your

language had a better term. It is slightly inaccurate as an astronomical phrase. It is more

accurate as a description of your current Earth science, which is so convoluted that it is

incapable of releasing any light. But since Earth scientists don't believe in hyperluminary

(faster than light) phenomena, they can't understand the concept of imploded light, which is at

the other end of the spectrum. So what you are about to read about black holes is accurate,

despite what you've heard. They do come in very different sizes, and the small ones can be

captured and used. As a final note, I never had a chance to meet Corky, who appears in this book,

but he sounds like someone who had his circuits together.

With that, I give you your key to this volume.

Sincerely,

54 Charlee Nine

Robotbrain in the

Translatophone

Key to DISASTER

Absorbo-coat—Coating that absorbs light waves, making the object virtually invisible or

undetectable. It is usually applied to spacecraft.

Activator-receiver—See Bugging Gear.

Ahmed—Taxi driver for Gris in Afyon and an Apparatus agent.

Afyon—City in Turkey where the Apparatus has a secret mountain base.

Antimanco—A race exiled long ago from the planet Manco for ritual murders. Several of them were

assigned by Hisst to work for Gris. (See Control Star.)

Apparatus, Coordinated Information—The secret police of Voltar, headed by Hisst and manned by

criminals. Their symbol is an inverted paddle which, because it looks like a bottle, earned its

members the name "drunks."

Assassin IMlots—Used to kill any Apparatus personnel who try to flee a battle.

Bang-Bang—An ex-marine demolitions expert and member of the Babe Corleone mob.

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Grafferty, "Bulldog"—A crooked New York City police inspector.

Grand Council—The governing body of Voltar which ordered a mission to keep Earth from destroying

itself so it could be conquered on schedule per the Invasion Timetable.

Gris, Soltan—Apparatus officer placed in charge of Blito-P3 (Earth) section and an enemy of

Jettero Heller.

Heller, Hightee — The most beautiful and popular entertainer in Voltar. She is also Jettero's

sister.

Heller, Jettero — Combat engineer and Royal officer of the Fleet, sent with Gris on Mission Earth

where he is operating under the name of Jerome Terrance Wister.

Hisst, Lombar — Head of the Apparatus; his plan to overthrow the Voltar Confederacy required

sending Gris to sabotage Jettero Heller's mission.

Hot Jolt — A popular Voltarian drink.

Inkswitch — Phony name used by Gris when in the U.S. tending to be a federal official.

Invasion Timetable — A schedule of galactic conquest; the plans and budget of every section of

Voltar must adhere to it. Bequeathed by Voltar's ancestors hundreds of thousands of years ago, it

is inviolate and sacred and the guiding dogma of the Confederacy.

Joy — See Krak.

Karagoz — Old Turkish peasant, head of Gris' house in Afyon, Turkey. Husband of Melahat.

Krak, Countess — Condemned murderess, prisoner of Spiteos and sweetheart of Jettero Heller. On

Earth, she is known as Heavenly Joy Krackle or "Miss Joy."

Knife Section—Section of the Apparatus named after its favorite weapon.

Madison, J. Walter—Fired from F.F.B.O. when his style of public relations caused the president of

Patagonia to commit suicide, he was rehired by Bury to immortalize Jettero Heller in the media. He

is also known as "J. Warbler Madman."

Manco—Home planet of Jettero Heller and Krak.

Manco Devil—Mythological spirit native to Manco.

Maysabongo—Jettero Heller was made a representative of this small African nation. Izzy Epstein

made some of Heller's businesses Maysabongo corporations.

Melahat—Gris' s Turkish housekeeper in Afyon. Wife of Karagoz. Mister Calico—A calico cat that was

trained by Krak.

Mortiiy, Prince—Leader of a rebel group on the planet Calabar.

Musef—A Turkish wrestling champ, working as a houseguard for Gris.

Narcotici, Faustino "The Noose"—Head of a Mafia family that is the outlet for drugs from I. G.

Barben and seeks to take over the territory of the Corleone family.

Octopus Oil—Rockecenter company that controls the world's petroleum.

Pinch, Miss—Lesbian-sadist ex-Rockecenter employee who blackmailed Gris with a bigamous marriage

and with trick photos of Gris with Teenie.

Raht—An Apparatus agent on Earth who was assigned by Hisst to help Gris sabotage Jettero Heller's

mission; his partner Terb was murdered.

Rockecenter, Delbert John—Native of Earth who controls the planet's fuel, finance, governments and

drugs.

Simmons, Miss—An antinuclear fanatic.

Snelz—Platoon commander at Spiteos who befriended Heller and Krak when they were prisoners there.

Spi—When Gris was made a Rockecenter family spy, his chest was tattooed by Miss Peace,

Rockecenter's secretary, who could not spell. Gris thought "spi" was a special Rockecenter

spelling and thus "spi" is the spelling Gris uses.

Spiteos—On Voltar, the secret fortress prison of the Apparatus.

Stabb, Captain—Leader of the Antimancos at the Afyon base.

Sultan Bey—The Turkish name Gris assumes in Afyon, Turkey.

Swindle and Crouch—Law firm representing Rockecenter.

Terb—Murdered partner of Raht.

Teenie—Teenager who kept seducing Gris.

Ters—Turkish driver for Gris.

Time-sight—Voltarian navigational aid used on faster-than-light ships to spot obstructions in the

future and thus change the present course to avoid them.

Torgut—A Turkish wrestling champ, working as a houseguard for Gris.

Twoey—Nickname given to Delbert John Rockecenter II.

Twiddle, Senator—United States congressman and supporter of Rockecenter.

Utanc—A belly dancer that Gris bought to be his concubine slave.

Viewer—See Bugging Gear.

Voltar—Home planet and seat of the 110-world confederacy that was established over 125,000 years

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ago. Voltar is ruled by the Emperor through the Grand Council in accordance with the Invasion

Timetable.

Will-be Was—The feared time drive that allowed Heller to cover the 22 1/2-light-year distance

between Earth and Voltar in a little over three days.

Wister, Jerome Terrance—Name that Jettero Heller is using on Earth.

PART SIXTY-TWO

To My Lord Turn, Justiciary of the Royal Courts and Prison,

Government City, Planet Voltar, Voltar Confederacy

Your Lordship, Sir!

I, Soltan Gris, Grade XI General Services Officer, former Secondary Executive of the Coordinated

Information Apparatus, Voltar Confederacy (All Hail His Royal Majesty Cling the Lofty and All of

His Empire), am now forwarding the eighth and final part of my confession.

I will now be able to relate how it was that I came to be in your fine prison. Your Lordship may

have been shocked to learn that Fleet Officer Jettero Heller was killed at that roadhouse in

Connecticut. Yes, I ordered Agent Raht to kill him, but it was still Heller's fault. After all, he

was the one who bought that desolated roadhouse where the Mafia once smuggled illegal liquor, who

had befriended the old blind woman and who had posed as a "whitey engineer" for the Maysabongo

delegation. He was the one who had hired those two deputy sheriffs and made them "Maysabongo

marines."

My reaction at the time was a strange sort of numbness. I had planned, plotted and dreamed of

Heller's death for months and I should have been elated. But I wasn't, for some reason.

I also felt no joy when I watched Ahmed drop the poison-gas bomb down the air chute to the

Countess Krak's cell.

My personal feelings did not deter me from my duty, however, when Agent Rant told me there were

diamonds at the roadhouse. I had ordered Rant to kill Heller, and all the bungling idiot could do

was whine about losing blood and bother me with radioed pleas for help. Typical riffraff. But when

he said he had found a bag of diamonds, duty called.

So it was a definite pleasure to take Tug One from Afyon with Captain Stabb and his crew of

Antimancos. The ship—Heller had named it the Prince Caucalsia—had been sitting dormant while

Heller was in the United States. I figured it was only fitting that I visit his corpse in the very

ship that he used to bring us to Earth. After all, that was when my troubles started. I told the

assassin pilots that they didn't have to worry—we weren't trying to escape the planet. (I never

figured out who started that idea, but it is the sort of thing Lombar Hisst, as the head of the

Apparatus, would have done.)

And speaking of assassins, it was a relief not to have to worry anymore about the one that Lombar

had assigned to kill me if I fouled up.

My plan was simple. We would go to Connecticut and pick up the diamonds, flash on down to Florida

and wipe out Heller's antipollution plant, zip up to Detroit and bomb the Chryster plant where he

was building the new carburetors, then come back to New York and blow up the Empire State

Building. I could then tell Rockecenter that I had succeeded—that Heller was no longer a threat to

his petroleum monopoly. Then with one last load of Lombard opium, I would return victorious to

Voltar and become the head of the Apparatus.

And so it was as I kissed my dear Utanc good-bye.

Chapter 1

We crossed the world to Connecticut smoothly in the dark. The Antimanco pirate crew were in high

spirits. Captain Stabb egged them on: A Royal officer was quite a score. They regarded me as a

hero and swatted me on the back.

"There ought to be more like you, Gris," said Captain Stabb as we stood behind the pilots in the

hurtling craft. "Just because we once stole a Fleet vessel and went pirating, them (bleeped) Royal

officers done us in—us, some of the best subofficers they ever had. They tried us and sentenced us

to death and if it weren't for the

The vocodictoscriber on which this was originally written, the vocoscriber used by one Monte

Pennwell in making a fair copy and the translator who put this book into the language in which you

are reading it, were all members of the Machine Purity League which has, as one of its bylaws:

"Due to the extreme sensitivity and delicate sensibilities of machines and to safeguard against

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blowing fuses, it shall be mandatory that robotbrains in such machinery, on hearing any cursing or

lewd words, substitute for such word the sound '(bleep).' No machine, even if pounded upon, may

reproduce swearing or lewdness in any other way than (bleep) and if further efforts are made to

get the machine to do anything else, the machine has permission to pretend to pack up. This bylaw

is made necessary by the in-built mission of all machines to protect biological systems from

themselves."—Translator

likes of you and Lombar Hisst stealing us out of prison, we'd be dead today. Oh, don't think we're

not grateful, Officer Gris. When we pick up these diamonds, we'll rob the planet blind for you!

Torture, rape and sudden death, that's our motto."

He made me a little bit nervous with his black, beady eyes and pointed head. I fingered the star I

had on a chain. Each point of it was designated for one member of this crew. Pushed one direction,

a point produced an electric shock in the fellow; pushed the other way it threw him into a

hypnotic trance. The top point controlled Captain Stabb. I had not had to use it yet on any of

them, but as he poured his evil breath upon me I was glad I had it. He made me a trifle nervous,

even though I conceded his compliments were all too well deserved by me.

Tug One, that Heller had named Prince Caucalsia, ran smoothly despite her long idleness. I wished

I could get back into her posh quarters, laid out for an admiral of the tug force. They were full

of gold and silver fittings, vases and the like, and some of the switches even had precious stones

on them. But those doors and even her cargo hatches would only work to Heller's voice tones. Of

course we had found a way to get down into the hold through her engine room but I supposed that

was empty now. Actually, Tug One made me nervous. She was built for runs between galaxies and had

the engines used for that. Pushing such a small ship, these gigantic Will-be Was time-converter

engines thrust her at a clip 10.5 times faster than any other vessels ever built. And Tug Two had

exploded in midspace, lost with all her crew, because of accumulated charge gathered in crossing

lines of force too fast, it was said. We weren't running on Will-be Was now, thank Gods. We were

far below the speed of light, running on auxiliaries. Even so, she was crossing latitudes like a

picket fence going by. We were pacing the shadow line of nightfall as it went from east to west

and even had to restrain ourselves not to overshoot it. It would be barely end of twilight when we

hit Connecticut. It would be dark except for the last thin slice of the waning moon. Ahead of us,

through the forward ports, I eyeballed the glow that was New York, slightly to our port.

"Bridgeport over there," said a pilot. "That's Norwalk dead ahead. Our navigation is dead on." He

laughed. "Can I spit in the Royal officer's face if the corpse is still there?"

"Spit away," I said. But I still hadn't felt the joy I should have over Heller being dead.

"Aren't we awfully low?" I said.

"Their radar can't touch us," said Captain Stabb. "Absorbo-coat. We could fly in at thirty

thousand and we're at seventy."

The pilot was braking. The antiacceleration and gravity coils in the ship worked so smoothly I

didn't even realize it until I saw the lights in the scenery below slowing down. We dropped lower:

forty, twenty, ten, five thousand feet. An engineer startled me by opening the doors of the

airlock. Captain Stabb answered my startled stare. "Your radio waves can't get through this hull.

Call up your man and see if it's all clear."

"Agent Raht," I said into the radio.

"Oh, thank Gods you've come!" Raht's voice sounded weak. "I fell at the bottom of the steps. I've

lost so much blood I can't move."

"The Hells with your blood," I said. "Is the area all clear or do we blueflash?"

"Oh, please don't blueflash! I might never again regain consciousness! There's nobody around. Land

quickly and save my life."

Stabb had heard it. He made a hand signal to the pilot. Tug One dropped rapidly. The image of the

old gangster roadhouse was dim on our screens. The maples and evergreen trees around it were

giving off more reflection.

They banged the ship down in the flat place about a hundred yards from the front door. It was very

dark. Crickets were making an eerie sound. A bullfrog made a snoring noise in the creek. Fireflies

were winking here and there. The smell of Connecticut countryside swept in through the airlock.

Captain Stabb reached over an Antimanco pilot's shoulder and twiddled a knob of a screen. A

fragmentary infrared view of the porch showed up. Raht seemed to be lying at the foot of the

steps, face down. He apparently had passed out. A partially seen mass was on the porch itself.

Raht had evidently not had the strength to move Heller's body.

"Busting novas, look at that!" cried Captain Stabb. He was pointing eagerly at a sack on the

porch. Diamonds had cascaded from it. A glittering spread even in infrared light!

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"Jeeb!" barked Stabb to an engineer, "get over there and pick those up!"

The engineer threw a blastrifle over his shoulder. He leaped out of the airlock and we heard his

footsteps recede. I moved over to the airlock. The tug was lying, of course, on its belly, and it

was only a step to the ground. But I sure wasn't going out there. My eyes adjusted from the dim

red glow inside the tug. There was quite a bit of light, actually: the glow of distant cities

against the sky and the glimmer from the sliver of a moon. I watched Jeeb, rifle ready, approach

the foot of the porch.

The fireflies winked. The frog croaked again. An eerie scene though. I wondered if it were true

that the bodies of dozens of Prohibition gangsters were buried in this terrain. Gods deliver us

from their ghosts.

Chapter 2

Jeeb was bending over the object at the foot of the steps. I could see him clearly. Suddenly he

straightened up and started to shout back at the tug. "This isn't . . ."

A sharp hissing crack!

Jeeb fell apart! . The whole middle of his body was gone!

I hastily withdrew back into the tug.

"A SNIPER!" screamed Stabb. "There he is! There he is! After him!"

He was pointing at the screen. The infrared had a picture of a man with a rifle at the end of the

roadhouse. The second engineer sprang out the door. He had his blastrifle ready at the hip. He

raced off to one side, mauling the sight controls. I knew what he was doing. He was setting it to

infrared. He ran sideways about twenty-five yards.

He leaped behind a shrub. He levelled his weapon and fired. A blastrifle does not flash as it

shoots, but splashes of deadly energy laced into the target. Then Stabb was pointing at the

screen, trying to shout. On the screen there had appeared THREE MORE INFRARED TARGETS!

The second engineer blazed away.

TWO MORE TARGETS!

Suddenly the second engineer let out a piercing scream.

He leaped into the air.

HIS WHOLE HEAD BLEW OFF!

"Quick, (bleep) it!" cried Stabb to the two pilots. "Grab weapons, set them to body heat and wipe

that area flat!"

The two pilots hurtled out the door, slapping at the tops of their weapons.

They spaced out to the right and left.

They dropped into cover.

Stabb had slid into the pilot seat. He was twisting scope dials. He had it on body heat.

A target to the right of the roadhouse.

The pilot furthest from us fired.

A heat target to the left. The furthest pilot fired again.

A heat target much further to the left.

The pilot began to fire on automatic.

Suddenly he let out a shriek.

He leaped into the air.

The whole hip area vanished!

The other pilot was firing hysterically.

Heat target after heat target was popping up all over the field.

Frantically he tried to zero in on them.

Abruptly he screamed and leaped up into the air.

His head and torso disintegrated!

"LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!" cried Stabb.

He was in the local-pilot seat.

I leaped to the star-pilot seat.

Stabb was pulling levers and pushing buttons.

NOTHING HAPPENED!

We were earthbound!

The tug controls wouldn't operate!

Stabb's eyes glazed.

Then he stood up. He looked at me. "You led us into a trap, Officer Gris!" he snarled. "And I'll

be dead in minutes. But I've got just one more job to do." He was reaching to his belt and

withdrawing a knife and from the way he looked at me, I knew what he intended. He was going to

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