Bryce Walton

“ Gasdon came running toward Moljar and the girl. His towering body, dripping mucous from the squid battle, was as large as Moljar's, but lacked its agility and integration of movement. His ugly face was twisted in fanatical purpose.
"Now we fight!" he shouted, "for her! I've wanted to meet Moljar, the half-breed freak, before witnesses who will testify to your defeat."
Mahra laughed. "Morons. I'll choose my own lover. And I certainly can't imagine him being either of you!"
"What witnesses will see you, Gasdon?" asked Moljar. "They run for their lives. Their pure hearts pump thin water." ”

“ The Matrix's shrill humming, now almost beyond his auditory range, died slowly as the glow of the filaments faded.
Alhone adjusted some other part of the complex panel. The filamented threads lifted slowly until Mahra could crawl beneath them. She ran sobbing, and Moljar took her easily into the folds of his red dripping arms.
Alhone had turned. She looked at Mahra with that indescribable hatred burning a raw-edged flame in her eyes.
"So you mutants, some of you anyway, are telepathic. That is why the Normals fear you so. I am helpless here. Now. There is nothing for me to do but escape." ”

“ Protected by force shields of thick grey, impenetrable mists, they appeared in sudden ruthless violence, sacked, slew, and vanished into the unknown land that spawned them.
Now, they were actually attacking Venus Port!
The stands were empty, except for the dead and dying who had been trampled or burned by the stampeding crowds. They and the Princess Alhone, amid her personal bodyguard. She was standing now, her slender, evil grace swaying in the ever-present blue glow.
She motioned to Moljar. He trembled. "This is the time," he said very low in his throat like a growling dog. ”

“ Moljar turned to the Terran mutant. Her taut face was trying to pierce the dense sheath of cloud.
"This is a strange dream, Mahra."
"Dream?" She turned her weird eyes on him briefly.
"What else? A half-breed, child of a Terran woman and a Martian outlaw, travels across the Sea of Death with an outcast mutant." He shook his head. "And for Alhone we fly. For Alhone, the she-monster whom no one knows, to Anghore where no one has ever been and returned." ”

“ They looked silently at each other a moment, before turning their eyes back to the colossal sea wall. Simultaneously their eyes caught the broad towering gate of dull black metal.
"Anghore," she whispered.
His hand dug into the sand. His lips were thin lines of dark wire. "It is magic," he said. "Even the gods are prejudiced against half-breeds, or I'd say they lent their strength to ours."
"Only evil gods would guide us to this place," she said.
"We have our gods who are not known exactly for benevolence. Lumphoor. Ghyx."
Moljar climbed stiffly to his feet and lifted Mahra. ”

“ Mahra cried out softly, and Moljar cursed as the two giant furred male Anghorians ran toward them.
Each wore a long straight sword and a slender dagger at his side. Their pink cat-faces masked cold, sadistic evil. Alien. One reached out a paw-like hand at Mahra. His almost lipless mouth slid open, and the incongruous whining speech mewed its travesty of human tones.
"This woman has not been called. She does not belong here." He turned to his fellow. "Take her to the Matrix. Ghils is experimenting with the seventh plain. She will be useful there." ”

“ Moljar shifted toward the gates. His hands flexed about the alloy bar. At Princess Alhone's gesture, the gates across the arena lifted. The monstrous beast, somewhat resembling a Mesozoic saber-tooth tiger of Terra, charged out straight for Moljar in a blinding burst of speed and power.
The half-breed swung the pitiful weapon which had jokingly been granted him, a five-foot length of compressed alloy. It cracked against the giant cat's skull. Moljar leaped aside as the beast plunked on its face, rolled in a flurry of sand and blood. ”

“ And from the Red Moon Games I have gathered about me here at Anghore all the greatest warriors in the System. It was wise of me, do you not think so, Moljar? The planets themselves helped me. Terra and Mars weeded out the best by isolating the half-breeds and mutants. Then out of these, I select the very best, by a process of elimination during the Red Moon Games. From the best among the survivors of the Games I choose the Mistmen. And from the Mistmen I choose you, Moljar, to rule by my side. The Mistmen can conquer the Universe. ”

“ Who can say they know of more than themselves? I simply know I am Moljar. I live. I have purpose. The pelt of Alhone. A pledge I must keep. Beyond that—nothing."
She tossed wet hair from her eyes. "Maybe your barbaric code is best after all. The System's returned to barbarism. Decay, ruin. Why not a philosophy to fit it? I rather like you. If you only weren't a half-breed."
He grinned. "If you only were not a mutant." His eyes caught a dark, flat floating object some distance away. ”

“ VENUS PORT IS UNDER ATTACK. TAKE TO THE JUNGLES. MISTMEN HAVE DESTROYED VENUS PORT COMMUNICATIONS. THEY ARE SACKING, PLUNDERING, KILLING. FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES! THE MISTMEN! VENUS PORT HAS BEEN ATTACKED AND....
Mahra trembled with uncontrollable fears. Her mutant's mind clouded over with the significance of the descending terror. Gasdon, his egomaniacal feud with Moljar forgotten for the moment, shivered, and his green eyes probed the thick cloud blanket. ”

“ His hand gripped the electro-gun tighter in his hand. "Why do the Terrans hate you mutants so much?" he asked. "Are the rumors about you mutant's deadly powers true?"
She sighed. "Perhaps some of them are true. Anyway the Normals are very scared of us. That's why they isolate and scourge us. We can rule them when we decide we want to."
"Will you want to?"
"Perhaps, someday. When the time is right."
"I am neither ruled, nor do I wish to rule," said Moljar.
"You half-breeds are a strange tribe. Too bad you must all be such barbarians, such savages." ”

“ It means nothing to Moljar."
The voice mewed merciless laughter. "Your rugged independence has ended, half-breed. You can be overpowered instantly by any one of many of our energy weapons. There is much duelling here, so, by decree, only swords are worn. Otherwise my warriors would soon decimate themselves. But for stubborn aliens we have other methods."
"Is talk and crazy laughter one of them?" said Moljar. "I am not impressed."
He turned. His eyes sought Mahra's. She stood proud and tall, her breasts moving with controlled breathing. Only her eyes held deep, crawling fear. ”

“ A series of thunderous explosions rocked the stadium. A brilliant pyrotechnic display glittered fantastically through the thick cloud layers above Venus Port. The Mistmen were storming the city with customary thorough and savage efficiency. The crying of a helpless city in pain rose and fell in an aimless pattern of terror.
Moljar noted the energy guns held in the hands of the Anghorians surrounding their Princess. ”

“ And Gasdon, the Martian pirate, who, barehanded, was still battling the giant squid in the arena's synthetic quagmire. His yellow body was a panting, straining bulk beyond the tendrils of sulphur dioxide that bubbled up through the bog.
Moljar felt the Terran girl's hot breath on his neck as he waited for the pain-maddened cat to scent him down. ”

“ We are what we were made. Somehow, the offspring of a Martian-Terran union results in much larger, much longer-living stock. We were envied. Much as you mutants are on Terra, blessed with double-life compared to Normals. We were driven into the deserts, reviled, imprisoned, beaten. There aren't many of us left. Of those thousands who sought to migrate here and find freedom, Alhone's games wiped out all but a few hundred. ”

“ The girl said abruptly, angrily, "For Alhone! You're crazy! If we can take control from the automatic pilot, we could—"
"We can not do that," said Moljar. "We would only crash down there. It's bad ... down there."
She fell silent. The atomic motor whirred almost silently, driving them toward Anghore.
"There is great mystery here," said Moljar. "We seem guided by forces beyond our control. Some powerful, invisible wind."
Curious, nervous, Mahra's rummaging uncovered weapons beneath the gyro's seats. Two electro-blasters and a duelling dagger. ”

“ Then she closed her eyes. The raft rippled and bucked slightly as something huge stirred against its bottom.
The night hours before morning were illuminated, a strange twilight of phosphorescence. They sat in the middle of the organic raft and waited tensely. The stirring beneath it had grown more violent.
"Man isn't the only highly adaptable animal—not even the most ingenious." The girl's tone was pedantic, amazingly learned. Moljar nodded surlily, not so interested, apparently, in lectures. He edged toward the girl until their shoulders touched. ”

“ He lifted his other arm, thrust the dripping sword point against her breast. She coughed something from her straining throat, and the Guards retreated hastily. The panel closed behind them.
"Tell your scientists—" he began, and stopped as her mewing laughter interrupted him.
He looked into the Matrix. The filaments were glowing purple. But the scientists were gone! He dragged Alhone's writhing body after him into the mass of equipment. A gigantic maze of meaningless tubes, wires, bulbs, dials, buttons and switches and coils. He cursed blindly. ”

“ We have inexhaustible power on our side. Weapons we can unleash that would stun the System into passive madness. Defense they have no conception of. And, if we had to, we could fight from the vantage of other plains of being, of which the dullards of the Solar Worlds have no concept, though these countless worlds flourish all about them. ”

“ Her lips parted slightly, and her body was soft.
"No wonder the Terran Normals are so fearful of you mutants," said Moljar. "The rumors are true. You can control minds!"
She nodded, eyes still almost closed. "Some of us can, sometimes. It isn't easy." ”

“ I've never, in all the places I have been, seen quite such a magnificent fool as you, Moljar. Anyway, our communications are cut off. If a man could get through to Anghore, bring back a force ... my scientists in Anghore have been perfecting a new vibro-generator as a weapon. ”

“ They always do. Anyway, as I was saying, this creature is much like an ianthina, or snail, of earth. It breathes through a siphon, or tubular proboscis. It uses this siphon to suck in air with which it builds these rafts for itself, to keep its heavy body and shell afloat. It's an adventurer like you, Moljar. ”