The haughty, horned aliens from the planet
Scotha had very well organized intentions
of conquering the Terran Empire—and Captain
Dominic Flandry, Terra's ace saboteur, suddenly
found himself in a strategic position to louse
up the works. How? Well, Achilles had a heel ...
and what else could you call a Scothani?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories January 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Captain Flandry opened his eyes and saw a metal ceiling.Simultaneously, he grew aware of the thrum and quiver which meant hewas aboard a spaceship running on ultra-drive.
He sat up with a violence that sent the dregs of alcohol swirlingthrough his head. He'd gone to sleep in a room somewhere in the stewsof Catawrayannis, with no prospect or intention of leaving the cityfor an indefinite time—let alone the planet! Now—
The chilling realization came that he was not aboard a human ship.Humanoid, yes, from the size and design of things, but no vessel everbuilt within the borders of the Empire, and no foreign make that heknew of.
Even from looking at this one small cabin, he could tell. There werebunks, into one of which he had fitted pretty well, but the sheetsand blankets weren't of plastic weave. They seemed—he looked moreclosely—the sheets seemed to be of some vegetable fiber, the blanketsof long bluish-gray hair. There were a couple of chairs and a table inthe middle of the room, wooden, and they must have seen better daysfor they were elaborately hand-carved, and in an intricate interwovendesign new to Flandry—and planetary art-forms were a hobby of his. Theway and manner in which the metal plating had been laid was anotherindication, and—
He sat down again, buried his whirling head in his hands, and tried tothink. There was a thumping in his head and a vile taste in his mouthwhich liquor didn't ordinarily leave—at least not the stuff he'd beendrinking—and now that he remembered, he'd gotten sleepy much earlierthan one would have expected when the girl was so good-looking—
Drugged—oh, no! Tell me I'm not as stupid as a stereofilm hero!Anything but that!
But who'd have thought it, who'd have looked for it? Certainly thepeople and beings on whom he'd been trying to get a lead would nevertry anything like that. Besides, none of them had been around, hewas sure of it. He'd simply been out building part of the elaboratestructure of demimonde acquaintances and information which wouldeventually, by exceedingly indirect routes, lead him to those he wasseeking. He'd simply been out having a good time—quite a good time,in fact—and—
And now someone from outside the Empire had him. And now what?
He got up, a little unsteadily, and looked around for his clothes.No sign of them. And he'd paid three hundred credits for that outfit,too. He stamped savagely over to the door. It didn't have a photocellattachment; he jerked it open and found himself looking down the muzzleof a blaster.
It was of different design from any he knew, but it was quiteunmistakable. Captain Flandry sighed, relaxed his taut muscles, andlooked more closely at the guard who held it.
He was humanoid to a high degree, perhaps somewhat stockier thanTerrestrial average—and come to think of it, the artificial gravitywas a little higher than one gee—and with very white skin, long tawnyhair and beard, and oblique violet eyes. His ears were pointed and twosmall horns grew above his heavy eyebrow ridges, but otherwise he wasmanlike enough. With civilized clothes and a hooded cloak he couldeasily pass himself off f