Overlord Of Colony Eight

Colony Eight on the Damballa was a huddle of low plastic domes set in a clearing of the jungle. It was also the most welcome sight Jim Reese had seen in a month—the month since he'd quarreled with Lois and struck out into the jungle alone.

He had covered close to a thousand miles—all the way to Colony Seven, the nearest of the 10 colonies Earth had planted on the jungle world. Now he was returning, hoping his month's absence had healed the wounds he and Lois had caused each other. She had had time to think things over. So had he—and he still loved her.

He saw one of the natives straggling through the jungle toward him and grinned. It was drunken old Kuhli, a native who had been accidentally made a drug addict by a well-meaning Terran doctor. Kuhli lived in a murky fog and hung around Colony Eight because he had no place else to go.

Reese was happy to see a familiar face, even Kuhli's. He hailed the alien.

"Kuhli! Kuhli, you old devil! Where are you going?" He knew the native rarely ventured into the jungle any more; his delicate sense of direction had long since been blunted by drugs.

The alien whirled uncertainly and fixed his bleary green eyes on Reese. "Trouble, Earthman," he wheezed. "Go away. Away. Big trouble."

Reese frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Kuhli came near and rocked unsteadily on the pads of his seven-toed feet. "Everyone crazy there. Not safe. Trouble, Earthman." He moaned softly to himself. "Sad things happening."

Reese glared at the alien; grasped him by his scaly shoulders and shook him. "Speak up, Kuhli! Is this just another pipedream of yours or is there something wrong in the Colony? I have to know!"

The alien whined piteously. "Don't hurt Kuhli. Don't hurt. Trouble, Earthman!"

Reese noticed a pack slung over the creature's back. "What's in here?"

"Mine! Mine! Don't touch!"

Curiosity impelled Reese to turn the alien around and peer in the bulging pack while the old man gibbered in fear.

Reese whistled. The pack was brim-full of ampoules of benzolurethrimine, the pain-killing drug to which Kuhli had been made an addict. The alien had stumbled into the colony one day, his chest slashed open by the talons of a khaljek-bird; the colony doctor had administered the drug to ease his agony and only then discovered benzolurethrimine was a powerful narcotic for the aliens.

"Where'd you get all this stuff?" Reese demanded.

"Took it. Needed it. Not going back to Colony any more."

There was something doing there, all right. This was no pipedream of Kuhli's—not when he was willing to steal a supply of drugs and strike out on his own into the treacherous jungle. Reese tightened his lips and, started to run toward the nearby colony at a dead trot. He hoped Lois was all right; he'd never forgive himself for leaving her if anything had happened to her.

He entered the circle of domes. No one seemed to be around. That was peculiar. There should always be a few idling colonists resting up before continuing their task of clearing the jungles.

Finally he spotted Lloyd Kramer, one of his best friends. He and Kramer had decided together to join and had come out to Damballa on the same ship.

"Lloyd! Lloyd!" Reese ran toward the big man, who was standing stiffly outside his hut, staring elsewhere. "Hey, Lloyd!"

Kramer turned. Reese said, "I just saw old Kuhli heading through the forest with a packload of benzo. He says there's some trouble in the Colony. What's up? How's Lois? Is she all right?"

A puzzled frown appeared on Kramer's face. "Who are you?" he said in a deep rumbling, voice. "I do not recognize you."

"What? You crazy, Lloyd? I'm Jim Reese!"

"Jim ... Reese?" Kramer repeated the words as if they were some totally alien name. "Where did you come from, Jim Reese?"

"I—what the devil is this, Lloyd?" Reese backed away suspiciously. "What's happened to you? Where is everyone?"

"You do not know," Kramer said. "Therefore you were not here when the conversion took place. Therefore I must capture you."

He lunged.

Reese got out of the way just as Kramer's six-four body came thundering toward him. He had known Lloyd long enough to be aware of the big man's fight-patterns; he could side-step easily enough.

"Lloyd! You out of your head?"

"You must be captured," Kramer repeated. He turned and swung his giant fists. Reese managed to parry one blow but a massive right crashed into his belly and knocked him gasping back against the thick bole of a ghive tree. He clung to the sticky bark for a second, sucking in breath. Then, as Kramer advanced again, Reese yanked out his hunting-knife. Kramer was unarmed.

"Lloyd, I don't know what's gotten into you but if you take another step closer to me I'm going to slice you up. You must be crazy!"

Kramer drew back, staring in puzzlement at the gleaming saw-toothed blade in Reese's hand. He froze some three yards away.

He said aloud, "What should I do, Dr. Tersen? He has a knife."

And in a cold, unfamiliar voice, he answered himself: "Keep him there at all costs—your life, if necessary. I will send help."

"Yes, Dr. Tersen," Kramer said in his own voice.

Reese frowned. Tersen? He remembered someone of that name—some scientist involved in a scandal a few years back on Earth. But what he was doing here on Damballa and what sort of control was he exerting over Lloyd Kramer?

"I am to keep you from escaping," Kramer said flatly. "Put the knife away, Jim Reese."

Reese glanced past Kramer and saw moving figures—colonists, coming toward him. He recognized them but still there was something unfamiliar about them. They moved stiffly. Like so many zombies, Reese thought.

Sweat poured down his body. He didn't want to hurt Kramer, not even the strangely-possessed Kramer before him.

Stooping quickly, he picked up a handful of the soft, warm Damballa mud and hurled it into Kramer's face. The big man, blinded, spat out mouthfuls of mud. Reese turned and ran.

"After him!" Kramer rumbled. "He's getting away!"

Reese heard a dozen pairs of feet behind him. He dodged back into the jungle, felt a slimy trailer of vine slap across his face and plunged into a swampy morass covered over with quivering chulla-ferns.

He crouched there for five minutes, ten, listening while the colonists thrashed about searching for him. He felt chilled despite the tropical warmth of the forest.

Who was this Tersen? And what had he done to the people of Colony Eight? To Lois...?

He had to find out. Somehow, while he had been gone, Tersen had seized control of the minds and bodies of his friends and fellow colonists. He heard their voices—steely, unreal.

"Any sign of him?"

"No. He has vanished."

"Dr. Tersen will punish us. We must find him."

"He has a knife. We must be careful."

"No. Dr. Tersen said to capture him even at the cost of our lives."

Reese shuddered. He recognized those voices, or thought he did. Abel Lester, Dick Fredrics, Chuck Hylan—men he had worked with and known for years. Hunting him now, as if he were some wild thruuv needed to serve as food for the colony.

Someone passed within three feet of his hiding place and moved on. Reese was bathed in his own sweat. If he could only stay hidden until they went away, then sneak back into the Colony and find out what had happened, find out if Lois was all right—

A needle of pain shot up his leg. He gasped and tried to keep from screaming.

Another bright bolt of agony. Another.

Needleworms! Boring up from the mucky depths of the swamp and penetrating the soles of his boots!

He cursed. The damnable creatures were everywhere. He went into a little dance, trying to avoid their keen snouts, but there were dozens of them, sensing a juicy meal. If he stayed here any longer he'd be slowly eaten to death.

Clutching his knife tightly he edged out of his shelter, looking around. There was no one in sight; the searchers were beating through the underbrush up ahead.

He moved on tiptoe back toward the village. And suddenly the thick corded arms of Lloyd Kramer shot around him from behind, pinioning him in an unbreakable grip. The knife dropped from his hands.

"All right!" Kramer called. "I've got him! Let's go back now."

Three men guarded him as he lay bound in one corner of the Colony Administration Building. Lloyd Kramer, Abel Lester and Mark Cameron, Lois' father. They had been facing him wordlessly for almost 15 minutes. None of them would answer his questions—not even when he asked Cameron whether Lois was all right.

Suddenly the door opened and a tall, ascetically thin man entered. Reese knew instantly from the cold set of his features and the fact that his eyes, unlike those of the zombies, burnt with a hard flame of intelligence, that this was Dr. Tersen.

"You can go," Tersen said.

The three guards nodded and left. Reese noticed that a tiny band of bright metal encircled Tersen's forehead.

The scientist looked down at Reese. "Are you a member of this colony?" he asked.

"Why should I tell you?"

"I repeat, James Reese: are you a member of this colony?"

"Yes," Reese said. "I've been away on a hunting trip the past month. Who the devil are you?"

"My name is John Tersen, formerly of Earth. You may have heard of me."

"I remember some sort of trial," Reese said. "You were accused of illegal experiments of some kind. You were banished from Earth."

"Ah, yes. Precisely." A film of pain crossed Tersen's lean features. "Exiled from my native world. That was six years ago—six years in which I've worked alone, on an uncharted planetoid, preparing. Colony Eight of Damballa represents my first laboratory experiment. After that, the other nine colonies—and then, Earth. I'll have repaid them for what they did to me!"

"Do you have this whole colony in your control?" Reese asked.

"Yes. All but you—and you'll soon be under the beam too."

That means Lois too, Reese thought. What an idiot I was to go away and leave her here alone!

And then he realized it was lucky he had done so. If he had stayed here, he'd probably be a zombie like all the rest. At least this way he was a free agent and it was still possible to defeat Tersen—for the time being.

Something flashed brightly in Tersen's hand. A thin metallic bracelet—of the same metal as the band around the scientist's forehead.

"This is for you," Tersen said. "Since I can't readjust the generator without losing control of all the others I've prepared a special trinket for you. Let me slip it on you, Reese."

Tersen reached for Reese's wrist. Reese twisted his body away.

"Don't be coy," Tersen said, smiling bleakly. He slapped Reese and seized his wrist. Despite Reese's desperate writhing Tersen managed to force the bracelet over the man's wrist and clamp it shut.

"There," Tersen said. "Now the whole village is under control."

Reese was puzzled. He felt no different; evidently something had gone wrong. But he did not intend to let Tersen know that.

"We'll march on Colony Seven tonight," Tersen mused aloud. "Everything's ready to begin the conquest."

He stepped behind Reese and undid his bonds. Reese rose to his feet stiffly, hoping he made a convincing zombie. He crossed the room toward the door.

"Join the others," Tersen ordered.

"Yes, Dr. Tersen," Reese said in sepulchral tones.

Outside, he glanced around and saw several colonists some distance away. He walked toward them, careful to maintain the stiff walk in case Tersen were watching.

Something had gone wrong with Tersen's bracelet because Reese definitely was under no control. It was a lucky break; it allowed him some extra time to discover what power Tersen held over the enslaved colonists. And he could find Lois.

The bracelet on his wrist gave no clue. It was just a thin band of metal without ornament. Presumably Tersen had expected to exert some kind of thought-control through it.

None of the colonists wore bracelets of this sort. Therefore, Tersen had some other means of controlling them. He had spoken of a "generator." Perhaps he could find that while he remained at large.

"Hello, Earthman. There is trouble here."

Maintaining his stiffness, Reese turned. He saw Kuhli, the addict. The pack he had been carrying was missing.

"Why are you back?" Reese asked.

"I need.... I need...." Kuhli gestured to his back. "I lost my pack. I need...." He could not pronounce the name of the drug he craved but he had been drawn back to the colony by desperate need.

Reese began to say something—then he cut it short and started to run.

"Lois! Lois!"

The girl was walking across the clearing in the familiar stiff-legged stride. Reese caught up with her in a moment or two, his heart pounding. "Thank God you're all right!" he exclaimed.

She stared at him. Her lovely face was void of all expression and her hazel-grey eyes looked blankly at him. "Who are you?" she asked, as if she were sleepwalking.

"Why—I'm Jim! Are you under this dreadful thing, too? Yes, yes, of course you must be. I...."

She interrupted him—speaking in a deep, grotesque voice that sounded more like Dr. Tersen's than her own. "Somehow this Reese is not under control. He must be captured and put out of the way. Get him!"

Reese realized that Tersen had been watching through Lois' eyes. Half a dozen of the colonists were converging on him now. He turned and started to run.

They spread out in a loose ring around him and he saw that unless he could dodge past them and escape into the forest, he was trapped.

He dashed forward toward the nearest man—Chuck Hylan. Hylan was lean and agile but Tersen's control left him stiff and awkward. He brought his fists up and aimed a few wild punches at Reese. Reese ducked them easily and smashed a hard right at Hylan.

It was a blow that could have toppled a tree—but Hylan merely staggered and stayed up. Reese saw that the control gave them extra endurance. He'd get nowhere by fighting with them. Pushing Hylan aside, Reese broke for the clearing.

And froze.

He heard Tersen's dry voice saying, "... must have been a short in the wave canal. But that's taken care of now."

The voice was not loud. It was in his mind.

And he was unable to move.

It was a strange, unearthly experience to be a zombie. Part of Reese's mind remained conscious. Part of him knew that Tersen had belatedly achieved control through the bracelet on his wrist and that Reese was no longer his body's master. He felt a presence in his mind. Tersen. Tersen dictated his motions now.

Stiffleggedly—and it was no sham, now—he turned or was turned, and walked back toward the rest of the group. Tersen had appeared and stood there, icy eyes glittering at him.

"I made the mistake of not testing you before I freed you," the scientist said. "But I think the control is in effect now. We'll see."

Raise your right hand! came a sudden mental command. Reese felt his right hand shoot above his head. He struggled to pull it down but it was impossible.

Left hand!

Both hands!

Kneel on your left knee!

Apparently Tersen was satisfied. He ordered Reese up and turned away. His control was complete.

"We march on Colony Seven tonight," Tersen announced again.

The rest of that day was a dim blur for Jim Reese. He followed through a series of dictated tasks, preparing for the raid on the colony. He discovered now exactly what had happened to Colony Eight but there was nothing at all he could do about it.

Tersen had appeared about a week after Reese had quarrelled with Lois. He had announced he was here to perform some experiments and asked the Colony to let him stay for a month or so. The Colony had agreed.

Tersen had proceeded to set up a dome and build his generator. It operated on encephalographic principles and allowed him to control the brains of all within its field at the time it was turned on. The Colony had not discovered this until the day Tersen had switched the generator on. From then on all were slaves.

Since Reese had not been present when that happened he was not subject to the generator field nor was the generator set up to control him. Tersen had had a portable generator under experimental construction and it was that which he had used to control Reese. It had failed, at first, though Reese's clever act had deceived Tersen. But when the scientist discovered Reese still was not under control he was able to make a trifling adjustment that altered the situation.

These things Reese found out by his contact with Tersen's mind. Contact worked in two directions—but control in only one.

Reese and the others readied the Colony for the attack on its neighbors. Tersen planned to control all the 10 colonies on Damballa—and then, building more generators, he would spread his dominion to Earth, the planet that had driven him into exile.

But one person in Colony Eight was free from Tersen's control. One person came and went as he pleased.

Kuhli. The drug-sodden alien.

Reese was standing stiffly before the medical commissary later that day when Kuhli came out, his back once again laden with a packful of benzolurethrimine ampoules. The alien was smiling happily in his narcotic daze.

He approached Reese and peered at him curiously out of eyes clouded with drugs. "Earthman. Much trouble here. I leave again."

Prisoner within his own skull, Reese longed to break Tersen's iron control. But it was impossible. He stood stock-still while Kuhli stared at him.

The alien's blubbery mouth split in a pleased smile. "Pretty," he crooned. "Pretty. I take."

Reese's heart bounded in sudden hope.

Kuhli's dim eyes were fixed on the shining bracelet on Reese's wrist!

The alien was pawing his arm now, examining the trinket, exclaiming little wordless cries of pleasure over it. Reese felt his body breaking out in heavy sweat. If only Tersen wouldn't notice—!

Kuhli began to slip the bracelet off.

And Tersen detected it. His sudden, urgent thought came to Reese: Stop him! Don't let him remove the bracelet, Reese!

Unable to resist, Reese started to draw his hand back, to bring his other fist down on the alien's skull. But halfway through the action he felt a shock like a heavy-voltage current ripping through him and knew that he was free. The alien had removed the bracelet!

Quickly Reese seized it, grabbing it from the alien's paws. Despite Kuhli's protests, Reese hurled the bracelet as far into the underbrush as he could.

He grinned and patted the blubbering alien on one scaly shoulder. "That's all right, Kuhli. Good boy, Kuhli. When this thing is over remind me to get you a new bracelet."

He began to run, moving with grim determination now. He was free again—and now he knew where Tersen and his generator were located. He didn't intend to fail a third time.

Tersen had set up his headquarters in one of the small domes near the stream that ran past the colony. Blaster in hand, Reese ran to the dome.

Someone stood in the door. Not Tersen.

Lois.

"Don't go in there," she said—in her normal voice. "Tersen's in there."

"I know." He stared at her. She didn't have the same zombie-like appearance she had had earlier. "Get out of my way," he told her. "I'm going in."

She put her hand on his arm tenderly. "No Jim. Give me the gun. I've broken out of his control. He doesn't know it yet. Let me go in there—and I'll take him by surprise. He won't expect it when I blast him down."

A grin lit Reese's features. The voice was unmistakably Lois'. "Okay. Great idea, darling. Here."

He handed her his blaster and waited for her to go inside. But instead she levelled the gun at him.

"Lois! What is this—a trap?"

Words came from her mouth in reply—words spoken in a deep, distorted voice. "Well done. Now kill him." It was the voice of Dr. Tersen.

Her finger tightened on the trigger as Reese stood frozen in utter horror. Tersen had used a shrewd ruse—by pretending to have let Lois escape his power he had gotten Reese to surrender his weapon.

But Lois stood facing him without firing. Sweat broke out on her face. She became deadly pale.

"Fire!" Tersen urged, speaking through her mouth. "Shoot him!"

"I—I can't," she said hesitantly, "I—love—him."

The gun dropped from her hand. A moment later she fell in a crumpled heap at Reese's feet.

There was no time to examine her. He snatched up the blaster, stepped over her fallen body and burst into the dome.

A purple blast of energy seared the air above him and blew a hole above the door. Instantly Reese dropped.

A compact, whirring pile of machinery confronted him—and, huddling behind an overturned bench, was Tersen aiming a blaster at him. Reese flattened himself against the floor.

Tersen fired and missed. Reese squeezed the stud of his own blaster and ashed part of the table behind which Tersen cowered.

He heard footsteps behind him. The colonists, still under Tersen's domination, were coming to their master's aid.

"You'd better give up," Tersen said. "They'll tear you to pieces."

Reese's only reply was another bolt of energy that ripped away the wall above Tersen's head. Tersen fired again; heat bathed Reese's cheek.

The colonists were practically there now. He could hear them swarming up the path to aid Tersen. He fired again—

Squarely into the generator.

Livid blue flames flickered over the complex machinery for a moment. Tubes melted: connections shorted out. An agonized scream came from Tersen and he charged forward madly, blinded with rage.

Reese didn't need to fire. He simply stepped into Tersen's path and smashed him to the ground with a solid right. Then he turned and pumped his remaining three charges into the burning generator.

A moment later the colonists arrived—but not as Tersen's rescuers, as his executioners. Reese got out of their way as the newly-freed colonists rushed in.

What was left of Tersen wasn't pretty.

"It was awful," Lois sobbed, outside. "I knew what he was planning to do and yet I couldn't help myself. I—was like a puppet on a string."

"I know what it was like," Reese said. "He had me under control a while too—until poor crazy Kuhli decided he liked the way my bracelet shone. But you did help yourself—you didn't fire!"

"Yes," the girl said weakly. "I struggled—and then somehow I won. I snapped his hold and collapsed. And then—and then—"

Reese smiled. "It's all over now," he said. "Tersen's dead and his machine's smashed. It had one flaw—it couldn't control love."

She looked up at him. "You won't go away any more, will you, Jim?"

"That's a silly question," he said.