ATO’S probing instruments still pointed the way to Aldebaran. In a surprisingly short time, the warning signals were flashing and jingling throughout The Nebula. There was that same sick feeling as it moved slower than the speed of light.

And there was a glowing sun with nine planets circling stately about it. Slower The Nebula moved, and slower, until the outermost planet sparkled in the light of its sun below them. They swooped down.

Not a single blast was fired at them. Every man was at his post, while Ato guided them in, and Odin worked the screens.

Once more, Jack was disappointed. He had looked forward to some alien—even exotic—civilization. Here were fields and streams. And there were cities—looking very much like the cities of his world and of Opal.

Those other worlds which he had seen had been blasted. So there was no way of knowing how their cities had looked. But these were too recognizable. He was certain that he had seen several of the taller buildings before.

Was space no more creative than this? Had the worlds dedicated themselves to the same monotonous pattern? He had caught a glimpse of conventional, rocket-shaped spaceships, plying their courses back and forth among the planets. He saw boats and cars and a few long-nosed airplanes, with the merest trace of vestigial wings far back near the empennage, streaking through the sky in high arcs, leaving curling trails of fog and smoke behind them. But there was little here that his world had not already mastered—or at least had on the drawing board.

The Nebula came to rest upon a bare plain not far from the nearest city. As he turned to the scanner upon it, Odin saw that while it looked familiar enough there was one exotic thing about it. Toward the outskirts of the city, in the bend of a wide river, was the Taj Mahal.

He felt nearly as bewildered as he had been when Nea explained her theories of the Time-Space Concept to him.

They had hardly landed before one of Ato’s scientists announced that there was good clean air outside. Oxygen and nitrogen with good old water held as moisture within it.

The city sat there upon the plain and stared at them. The Nebula looked back.

At length a procession of cars moved toward them.

Grim Hagen’s voice came thundering over the loud-speakers.

“A truce, Ato. I offer you a week’s truce in return for a few meetings. This world has seen enough destruction—”

Gunnar and his crew leveled their death-gun at the advancing party. Odin kept them on the screen. Ato and a few of his captains got ready to disembark.

As Odin watched, he kept puzzling over that voice. It certainly was Grim Hagen’s. But it was different. Perhaps it was a bit lower, a bit more commanding. But there was just a bit of weariness in it. And the answer came to him suddenly—although he never knew why.

The voice was older!

Then Grim Hagen and his staff were below The Nebula. They were dressed in white and gold uniforms. That was not surprising, either. Ato and his men advanced for a parley. Odin watched and listened.

At first he could not get a clear look at the man for Ato’s broad shoulders. Then Ato turned aside, and Grim Hagen’s head and shoulders filled the screen.

Odin gasped in amazement. Grim Hagen was nearly twenty years older than when he had seen him last.

The shoulders and arms were larger although there appeared to be little fat upon Grim Hagen. The dark hair was streaked with gray. The face was seamed, and though the black eyes still blazed they now burned with a fanatic hate and desperation. Where pride and ambition had once made a face coldly handsome, there was now nothing but seamed lines like scars and blazing eyes. It was an evil face. Grim Hagen had become a devil.

Hagen looked at the much younger Ato and laughed. “So, the cub comes to fight with the tiger? Didn’t you know? Didn’t you guess? While you came galloping after me, I had already landed within this system. And time began its old alnage. These were a peaceful people. We wrecked them. We enslaved them and built the nine worlds in our own fashion. Nearly nineteen years, Ato! No Caesar ever dreamed of a larger kingdom. I even gave them a new goddess—for I did not want them to do much thinking. Yonder.” He pointed to the duplicate Taj Mahal in the distance. “She sleeps. My only failure. No older. And sometimes I go there and look at her, and my youth seems to walk beside me—”

“We want the people that you brought with you, Grim Hagen,” Ato answered coldly. “And the treasures.”

Grim Hagen laughed again. “Those that came with me willingly are dukes and kings beyond their wildest dreams. Those who would not take oath to serve me are still slaves. Except for Maya, who sleeps. As for the treasures, my treasure houses are so full now that I doubt if I could separate one thing from the other. So youth grows old. But you must admit that this is better than cringing in a hole in the ground—”

“None of us cringed, unless it was you,” Ato retorted angrily. “We have come beyond time and space—for Maya and her friends—for the treasures—and for you—”

The mad light flamed in Grim Hagen’s eyes as he laughed again. “You could not get a thousand feet into the air unless I permitted it. Come, now, I have given a week’s truce. Relax and enjoy yourselves. After all, we are kinsmen in a far country.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and repeated. “A far country.”

Three days had passed since they had landed on Grim Hagen’s planet. Ato, Gunnar, Odin, and a score of others had gone into the city where they had been given quarters in a palace that made Windsor look like a second-class lodging.

Odin and Gunnar shared a suite. As he dressed that morning, Odin looked about him at the splendor. Every bit of woodwork was hand-carved. The walls were covered with frescoes. The chandeliers were jeweled masterpieces and the carpets were thick crimson piles. The lace curtains must have ruined the eyes and hands of a dozen women.

He had heard that the planets of Aldebaran had been peopled by a blond peaceful race who were on a par with the culture of the Middle Ages when Grim Hagen arrived. Lord, how he must have worked himself and them to bring them this far along in nineteen years. There was a peaceful air of prosperity about the planet; and trade, he understood, was flourishing with the other worlds of the system. But the people were no more than slaves—beaten and cowed into submission. Oh, they worked hard. But Odin wondered what had been their punishment in years past for not working. There was something in their eyes—a stunned, unhappy look—that made him wonder what would happen some day when they learned as much as their masters and turned upon them. Moreover, he had been told that the planets were over-crowded when Grim Hagen arrived. They did not seem so now. How many graves throughout those nine planets were dedicated to the conquerors?

Only once had he seen one of them mistreated. That was at a dinner the night before. The banquet hall had been a combination of medieval, modern, and Brons’ splendor. The dishes, the food, and the music had been superb. But a fair-skinned girl had spilled a few drops of wine when she was serving Grim Hagen. His face had grown dark. Half arising from his high-backed chair at the head of the table, he had doubled up his fist and struck her below the cheek-bone. She reeled back, her face crimsoning from the blow and the shame. The other servants pretended to see nothing. But in the girl’s eyes and in the eyes of the others he saw the old promise that had been written in the eyes of slaves since time began: “Some Day! Some Day!”

Then, with perfect calm, Grim Hagen had sat down, wiping his lips with a lacy napkin. “Pardon me, gentlemen, but they have so much to learn in so short a time.” Then he looked down the long table at Odin and could not resist one gibe. “You don’t know how happy I was to find that these planets were peopled by a light-skinned race.”

That was all. True to his promise, Grim Hagen had given them the run of the city. But there was always one of Hagen’s men or some native in uniform to politely assure them that there was little to see down the off streets. The main squares were a tourist’s paradise. Beautiful buildings—in all colors and styles, black marble and silver. Tracings of gold. Clocks, bells, statues, fountains. All the architecture of the world they had left, with fine selections and matching, with daring improvisations. And everything new. Odin had to admit that the squares were beautiful. Some day this conquered race might even owe a debt to Grim Hagen and his crew. But right now they did not seem to be bubbling over. The natives were polite—too meek for comfort. Some of the women were beautiful; most of the men were too slight of build, almost effeminate.

But once Jack Odin and Gunnar managed to stroll down a narrow street without anyone noticing them. It was the cry of the birds that caused them to turn aside into even a narrower one. So they came to a little run-down park that looked old enough to have survived the conquest. Then they saw the scaffoldings. And there were twelve shapes hanging from ropes and meat-hooks. As they neared, a flock of fat revolting-looking birds arose and complained as they fluttered away.

Gunnar and Odin had stood there looking up at the half-dried mummies that swung slowly about and grimaced at the tiny wind that perplexed them. The gibbets were spotted with blood and filth. Flies swarmed about them.

“So,” Gunnar remarked. “The leopard does not change his spots. Grim Hagen still gives lessons to these people. And knowing Grim Hagen I would say he is a rough schoolmaster.”

They did not stay long. And a guard opened his mouth in surprise when he saw them entering the square from the dark, little street.

Today Grim Hagen had invited them to another conference. Gunnar and Odin dressed carefully. But Gunnar took a last look at harness and sword as he complained: “He wants something. And Grim Hagen can be mean when he doesn’t get what he wants. We should have started wrecking this world before we landed. The people would be no worse off. And maybe we could have rid ourselves of a snake. Ato needs a big drink of tiger milk—”

“Oh, quit complaining, little giant. We still have some bargaining power.”

“Yes, our swords. This meeting reminds me of the conference that a king once held to decide upon another conference which would decide what the next conference would be about. Bah!”

“Quit worrying. One of us will kill Grim Hagen, sooner or later.”

But Gunnar went on with his complaining. “You had better stay close to me, you understand, or you will be hanging from one of Grim Hagen’s meat-hooks.”

So they went to the conference. All of Ato’s men and at least fifty of Grim Hagen’s were there. Contrary to Gunnar’s prediction, Grim Hagen got to the point at once.

“Kinsmen,” he began mockingly. “You may have wondered why I called a truce when I could just as well have destroyed you—”

“That I doubt,” Ato answered him. “We have defensive weapons. Even now the guns from our ship are trained upon the city.”

Grim Hagen shrugged. “Let us not quibble, Ato. Your father was a quibbler before you.”

Ato flushed in anger.

Grim Hagen continued with an apologetic smile. “I’m only joking. But I do know certain things. Your father, Wolden, is a brilliant man, Ato.” He bowed slightly as he admitted this. “From time to time, as you hurtled through the star spaces, I picked up scraps of conversation with my instruments. Also, I knew something of what Wolden has been working on all these years.”

“Now, you’re quibbling,” Gunnar jeered. “Get on with your speech, Grim Hagen.”

Grim Hagen bowed to the broad-shouldered little man. “Some day, Gunnar, I may have to kill you—”

“Now. Now.” Gunnar urged, fairly jumping in rage. “Just the two of us, Grim Hagen. Just the two of us with bare hands—”

“Not yet.” Grim Hagen sneered. “Now, I will continue. From what I have learned, it appears that Wolden’s work has been a success. It is possible for men to master both time and space. I have mastered space, but time is turning everything to dust and ashes. What good is it to be an old emperor? No better than to be an old herdsman.” Again he tossed a sneer in Gunnar’s direction—

“That’s easy,” Gunnar retorted. “The old herdsman sleeps well at night.”

“Bah. Who wants to sleep? Please quit interrupting, Gunnar.”

“Even before we came to Aldebaran,” Hagen went on, “I was in contact with a dying world out there at the edge of space. Those people are desperate. And they are weary of life, having seen too much of it. They have agreed to go with me. Why, this sun and these worlds are piddling trifles. With that invention we could go from sun to sun. Space would be ours to play with—”

“Loki, the Mischief-Maker, running through creation—” Gunnar muttered.

Grim Hagen may not have heard him for he continued in that same desperate, pleading voice. “So here is my proposition, Ato. Give me your father’s secret. In return, I give you the treasures, the Old Ship, the prisoners, and even Maya. Is not that complete surrender?” He smiled disarmingly.

Ato stood tall and proud as he answered. His eyes were blazing now, as he saw through Grim Hagen’s plan. “So, you thought I would bargain away Wolden’s secret, did you? Well, your surmises were wrong. When last I saw him his work was not finished. I know so little about it that I could tell you nothing of any value. But if I did,” Ato’s voice was trembling in disgust. “If I did, Hagen, would I turn you and your hells’ spawn loose upon the stars to perplex them forever?”

Grim Hagen’s face was almost blue with rage. “You have said enough. And there are other ways to make you talk. Make these swine prisoners,” he screamed.

A dozen knives flashed. A dozen death-tubes were pointed toward Ato and his followers.

But one of Grim Hagen’s lieutenants, a Bron who was now silver-haired, intervened. “No, Grim Hagen. They are under truce. The week is not yet up. I will not see you go back on your own word—”

Grim Hagen flamed. “You will die on the hook for this—”

“Maybe so. One thing is certain: I will die. And I can face it. But you can’t, can you, Grim Hagen? You would prefer to be some sort of eternal devil, working its fury upon the stars. Now, where is the new thinking that you used to preach? That dream is as old as the incantations beside the cave-fires—”

“Arrest them all,” Grim Hagen screamed. “Arrest Rama too,” he added with rage.

But the knives and swords were back in their holsters. The guns were lowered. One by one his men filed out of the council room. Grim Hagen’s face was so dark that Odin feared a stroke. But with a curse at Ato and Odin, Hagen lifted his chin high and followed his men from the room. Only the one called Rama remained.

“I will do what I can, Ato,” he said quietly. “I was nearly fifty when we started this journey. And we lived hard and fast. I am old now. I married one of the slave-girls. We have children. Were it not for that, I would go with you. But I am tired. God, I’m tired—”

He saluted them as he went out the door.

They never saw Rama again.

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