Mission: Earth "Doomed Planet"

Disclaimer Now that the Crown has magnanimously tolerated the last volume of this overwrought, extravagant, hyperbolic work, let it never be said that We were not tolerant. The Crown has made its position clear. This is a COMPLETE work of fiction. 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 I've been a Robotbrain in the Translatophone for nearly six hundred years. In that time, I have translated more books, papers, letters, speeches, songs, decisions, journals, etc., than even I could count. But NOTHING compares to this job which I have FINALLY completed. It wasn't the translation that was difficult. Oh, sure, it's a challenge to move it into a language of a planet that doesn't exist. What boggled my circuits was EARTH! I've dealt with pirates, politicians, musicians, Lords, commoners, thieves and even Emperors. I've seen civilizations rise and fall. I've dealt with the most advanced and then some that are just slightly above the intelligence of a sponge. They've come in every possible shape, size and composition. So when I say that I've NEVER come across anything like EARTH, I know what I'm talking about. If there is any doubt, read on! When you find out why others say you don't exist, then it is up to you. I leave you with a Key to this final book. Good luck. It's up to you now. Sincerely, 54 Charlee Nine Robotbrain in the Translatophone

My manuscript is complete! It will not require much editing but I look forward to getting it back from you. What I endured and learned in the process may well be another book, but that can be negotiated later. Much of what I am writing about was covered by newssheets and Homeview, but what I found is the TRUE and COMPLETE story. To get it, I used the best investigative-reporter techniques. I pried and lied my way into the confidence of key people to find the biggest cover-up in the 125,000-year history of our Confederacy. I apologize for the time that it took me to complete these final parts but I know that you will agree it was worth it. Let me remind you what happened so you can appreciate the rest of my book. Lombar Hisst had addicted every Lord of the Grand Council to drugs. The Emperor, Cling the Lofty, was close to death when Heller kidnapped him. Lombar Hisst had installed himself as Dictator and millions of people were rioting in the streets. Teenie Whopper was creating catamites out of the sons of all the Lords. On top of it all was that icon of public relations, J. Walter Madison, who was molding Lombar's "image." When Lombar could not get the Army to go after Heller, Madison found the most popular general and had him brought to Lombar's office. When General Whip refused to hunt Heller and walked out, Madison got Lombar to sign an order that said: GENERAL WHIP HAS REFUSED ORDERS TO FIND JETTERO HELLER. BRING ME THE HEAD OF GENERAL WHIP. As a "show of force," Madison's crew then staged the drama of General Whip's head being delivered on a platter as women screamed and fainted. The entire show was shot for Homeview. Madison then got Lombar to sign another order: TO ALL OFFICERS OF ARMY AND FLEET: YOU WILL AT ONCE BEGIN TO HUNT FOR AND YOU WILL FIND THE NOTORIOUS OUTLAW JETTERO HELLER. Madison's dream had come true! Heller was an outlaw! The manhunt was on! And now, dear publisher, editor and reader, here is the final, true story of what REALLY happened!

J. Walter Madison was on his way to the Royal Courts and Prison in the Model 99. It was just past dawn and he wanted to arrive before the crowd: he had to have a word with Lord Turn. Traffic between Joy City and Government City, despite the earliness of the hour, was quite bad. Airbuses seemed to be rushing everywhere and traffic control was frantic as it sought to harass them into sky-lanes. Madison was not paying much attention until they seemed to be just hovering. Then he said to his driver Flick, "What's the holdup?" "The blasted Army," said Flick. "I detoured to get wide of the Fleet base because it has warnings of Don't Approach and it shunted us over to the edge of the Army base and these (bleepards). have the air clogged with . 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 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 departing transport. Look at those dirt eaters! A thousand ships must be lined up down there getting sky-borne." Flick turned on a military frequency and a crisp Army voice was barking numbers. "Well, I'll be blasted," said Flick. "Those coordinates he's rapping out are for my old home planet, Calabar. Imagine that. They're going to escalate that war!" Madison chortled. Given the destination of those thousand transports, he could construct the rest. What a coup he had just pulled with the Army! Madison and his gang had known better than to try to penetrate the Army Division General Staff. They had simply made General Whip's head out of putty and false hair and theater blood and brought it in. General Whip had been killed by PR. Madison had to laugh when he thought of what the general's face must have been like when he saw on Homeview that he had been executed. He had probably run for cover. And now the payoff: the Army was heading out in desperation to support the Apparatus and probably look for Heller in the bargain. No wonder a thousand transports were leaving! Gun was pointing out a clear sky-lane and Flick darted along it, flying low. Madison looked down at the Government City streets. He was very amused. Mobs dotted the pavement here and there: broken windows were visible, riot police were darting about. Voltar was looking more like Earth every day. He felt a surge of pride: It showed what superior technology could do. Voltar was wide open to Earth-type PR and he was a genius at applying it. The old masters of his craft would be proud of him. The Royal Courts and Prison castle lay with hillsides covered. Some of these spectators seemed to have made their homes here now, for he even saw some cooking fires in the mobs. Yes, and there were some placarded demonstrators at the gate-just like Earth! It made Madison feel very at home. "They're warning us off at the castle," said Flick. Madison passed him his identoplate, "Land in the courtyard. They'll let me in if I have information about a certain man." Much to Flick's amazement, the castle promptly signalled him in. "Hot Saints, Chief. You couldn't have got in quicker if you'd really committed some crime." Madison was feeling good. He couldn't resist it. "I just killed a general." "You're fooling us," said Cun. "Nope," said Madison. "Held the sword myself when we cut his head off." He really laughed out loud when they gave him a look of awe. That wasn't all he was going to kill today. He was going to end this Gris situation and give Teenie her revenge. He was going to kill this trial by killing the status of Heller. Then he could really loose the dogs on Heller's trail.

A very upset and confused Lord Turn was sitting in his chambers that morning, waiting to start yet another day of this horrible trial. The headlines he had read about Heller and his sister had left him not knowing what to think. While he was not about to let himself be influenced by what he read in the papers, it added to his distress. Day after day, those confounded Gris attorneys had that vicious Gris confessing to every crime anyone ever heard of and Gris, while admitting guilt, kept stating that Heller had caused him to do it. And the attorneys kept saying they would explain how this was so only after they had given all the evidence. He could not possibly imagine how or why Jettero Heller had made Gris, as alleged, do these things. They were totally inhuman! Monstrous! And Lord Turn himself had suffered. At first people had accused him of protecting Gris, and his family had stopped talking to him. Now these mobs were accusing him of delaying and stalling, again to protect Gris. Lord Turn wished he had never heard of Gris. And, to put it bluntly as he sat there stewing, he didn't think his reputation as a judge would outlive Gris. Why, he couldn't even keep order in his courtroom anymore, though he had every man he could arm on duty there, even the warders. The audience with their shouts of horror at each new crime and hisses at Gris whenever he took the stand ignored completely every demand Lord Turn made upon them to be orderly. He had a trace of fear that those mobs outside and the audience within might very well take law into their own hands and wreck the prison. His captain of guards came in and he looked up with a start, afraid that the wreckage may already have begun. "Your Lordship," said the guard captain, "you gave an order earlier that a man named Madison was to report in if he had any news of one Jettero Heller. He's here." "Oh, good," said Lord Turn in sudden hope. "Maybe he can shed some light that will help end this awful case. Show him in!" Madison entered, sleek and well groomed, smiling his most sincere and earnest smile. "You've news of Jettero!" said Lord Turn eagerly. "Sit down, sit down and tell me!" Madison bowed low and seated himself. "Jettero Heller is on Calabar, Your Lordship." "Good, good," said Turn. "I read something about this Hero Plaza thing. Is he going to come in here and tell me what to do with his prisoner Gris?" "I don't think he can, Your Lordship. I had something else to tell you. I have seen with my own eyes the cancellation of his Royal officer status. Jettero Heller is now an outlaw."

"WHAT?"

"Yes, and now that he is no longer a Royal officer, you are no longer bound to hold Gris for him. When you finish this bigamy trial, and it's certain that he's guilty____________________ "

"Now see here, young man, this trial is not finished. The evidence is not all in." Madison smiled. He was playing this by the Earth court system: All charges and sentences there are arranged in the judges' chambers. The trials are just for public show. It's who tells the judge in private what to do or what secret deal is made that decides anything and everything about a case from beginning to end. He was confident he could make this work on Voltar. "This parade of evidence," said Madison, "could be ended in a minute. Gris is admitting his guilt to every charge. The danger is that your reputation is going to suffer because of this Gris matter. Your image has been injured as a judge." "It certainly has!" agreed Turn. "A dreadful affair!" "Well, I don't think you will be able to hand out a sentence stiff enough to satisfy the mobs," said Madison. "I can order him executed!" huffed Turn. •. "Ah, that won't satisfy the mob." "The statutes do not call for torture in cases of bigamy," said Turn. "They only call for execution." "Well, I don't think the mob will buy that," said Madison. "When you add up the number of victims Gris has mangled-and the mob will-there are few deaths painful enough to atone for it. Now, I think you remember that Her Majesty, Queen Teenie____________________ "

"The one who called my attention to his bigamy." "Yes. Now, it so happens that Gris has an unfinished sentence with her. The sentence was 'a lifetime of exquisite torture, done by an expert.' As you no longer have to hold him for Heller, I would suggest that you could remand Gris into the custody of Queen Teenie to finish his earlier sentence. The mob would be happy; you would be off the hook. We could even play the mob tapes of his screaming. Good publicity for everybody all around." Turn looked thoughtfully at Madison. "Well, if Jet-tero is no longer a Royal officer, then Gris is just a common felon. I could give him into the custody of anyone I wished. You really think 'a lifetime of exquisite torture, done by an expert' would mend this thing… what are you calling it? Image?" "It would restore public confidence in you utterly," said Madison. "They'd praise you to the stars." "Hmm," said Lord Turn. "If I find him guilty, it will have to be a severe sentence. Bigamy usually carries heavy penalties." "Oh, you'll find him guilty all right," said Madison, "for he is, you know. He says so himself." "The trial isn't over yet," said Turn. "We must not twist jurisprudence." Madison got up, bowed and withdrew. He was grinning as he fought his way through the corridor throngs to get to the airbus. He called Teenie. She had been waiting on Relax Island. "Your Majesty," said Madison, "you're really in, kid. Sharpen up the pokers and flex up the hot tongs. Gris will be in your hands before you know it." "This better not be baloney," said Teenie. "After all the favors I've done you, if you don't deliver, the biggest pair of pliers is for your God (bleeped) toenails. So you better be sure." "I am sure," said Madison with a confident grin. "I always deliver." "Oh, yeah?" said Teenie and hung up. It didn't dampen Madison's glee a bit. Getting Gris into her hands was just a byproduct. Heller's status as a Royal officer could only be cancelled under the Emperor's seal as a final result of court-martial. Madison couldn't obtain that. But just as he had whittled away Heller's reputation in the court by innuendo, he was going to get his Royal officer status disbelieved in the same way. He was certain now that Lord Turn would add a line in the Gris sentence that said, "In view of the fact that Heller's Royal officer status has been cancelled, I hereby remand…" And Madison would publicize that in such a way that the whole world would accept it as a fact. After all, who had access to the truth? It was the final expert touch of a PR. The Fleet, the Army and now the Domestic Police would all be on Heller's trail. The general warrant would be considered valid. He would be an outlaw indeed! It was preparation for his final action. But that would not come yet. Oh, what headlines were in the making!