Appointment at Bloodstar.

by Doc Smith.

CHAPTER 1.

The Thousand-Point Test.

The man stood in the darkened room, nervously awaiting the events to come. His compact body, product of a high-gravity world, was clad in a skintight bodysuit that allowed maximum freedom of movement. He had spent the past four months preparing for this moment, and now all his acquired knowledge would be put to the ultimate test. For better or worse, the outcome of this trial would affect the rest of his career. His lips were dry, no matter how often he extended his tongue to moisten them.

Suddenly a bright light shone straight into his eyes. Even as he blinked, some instinct told him he was an easy target standing up in the glare. Without even knowing where he was going, he crouched and sprang forward in the direction of the light. As he did so, he heard the buzzing sound of a stun-gun, but felt none of the effects. Had he remained where he was, the test would have been over the instant it had begun.

Now that he was moving, he realized that his only hope of pa.s.sing was to remain in motion. There would be more traps ahead to overcome, and he dared not slow down to let them reach him. Safety, he had been taught, lay in speed. But not blind speed; his reflexes had to be in complete linkage with his brain to achieve the finesse that many delicate situations required. He had to think as he moved, so that thought and deed could be accomplished as close to simultaneously as possible.

He knew of only one thing in this darkness besides himself-the light that was still shining almost directly into his eyes. As long as that light was on him he would be in constant danger. It made sense, therefore, to move toward the light and put it out of commission before the stun-gun's owner put him out of commission.

His leap forward brought him down on his right shoulder. He rolled as he'd been taught and came up in a low crouch, prepared to move again. He took a few quick steps to his right, then zigzagged back to his left. The short buzzes of the stunner kept sounding out, proving that he was far from home free; but by keeping his movements in a random pattern, he rendered his would-be destroyer unable to hit him.

The light was much closer now. One more small leap took him to a point just beside it. It turned out to be a small spotlight some thirty centimeters in diameter. Lifting his foot in an arc that would have made a ballet dancer jealous, he gave the bulb a vicious kick. The plastic covering shattered and the light burned out instantly, leaving him once more in darkness broken only by the blue spot before his eyes, the afterimage of the spotlight.

The sound of the stunner ceased with the extinguishing of the light. The man on trial moved away from the spotlight once more and paused for a few deep breaths, waiting for the next development. He did not have to wait long.

Lights came on all around him-not the blinding glare of a spotlight, but a diffuse glow that illuminated all the surroundings. The man blinked and looked suspiciously around.

To his left, the room he had just traversed in order to reach the spotlight was still dark. Before him was a corridor three meters wide and about forty long; at the far end was a doorway to another room. The walls on either side of the corridor were six meters high too tall for him to jump over even in this gravity that was forty percent of what he considered normal. There were only two directions in which he could move: either back the way he had come or down this new corridor.

The decision was made for him by a blaster bolt that sizzled the air and burned into the ground at his feet. It came out of the blackness he had just left; flying into the face of that kind of armament when another course presented itself would be tantamount to suicide. Without hesitation, the man chose to proceed down the corridor.

This path was scarcely safe either, though. He had hardly begun down it when he found objects springing up in his way. First a pile of boxes rose from the floor, completely blocking the path. There was no way to go around them, so he began climbing over the pile. To complicate matters still further, light beams seared out at him. They were intended to simulate blaster bolts, and the man got the message instantly. There was to be no tarrying in this corridor, either.

His climb became a scramble as he finally reached the top of the pile of boxes. Not standing on ceremony, he jumped down to the ground again, narrowly missing the row of sharp knives that sprang up from the ground just as he leaped. More of the light beams were firing at him, making realistic crackling sounds as they pa.s.sed by.

He ran at top speed, his eyes surveying the path before him in a series of darting glances. He'd gone nearly ten meters without further incident when he noticed that one patch of flooring was a slightly different color than the rest. In midstride just before he reached it, his back foot kicked out, lifting him in an off-balance leap over the one-meter patch of discoloration. He landed awkwardly on the other side, scrambled to his feet, and continued on before the light beams had a chance to zero in on him. In one desperate dash he made it the rest of the way down the corridor and turned to the right through the doorway into the next room.

Without warning he felt the ground go out from under him. As he fell, he hit water with an enormous splash. He submerged for an instant, then came up gasping for air. The water was icy, a cold shock to his tensed nervous system. It left a briny taste on his tongue and stung his eyes as he tried to look around and get his bearings in this new environment.

The room was dimmer than the corridor had been, but still had light enough to see by. The door through which he had entered had slid automatically shut, and the ceiling had lowered to just half a meter above the surface of the water, barely room for him to lift his head and breathe. The walls were perfectly smooth, without a break or a handhold in them. There was no sign of an exit anywhere.

The man continued treading water as he puzzled out this dilemma. There had to be some way out of here; if it wasn't above water, then it must be below. Taking a deep breath, he dipped below the surface to search for the exit.

The salt water stung his eyes, so he had to proceed by feel. The room was small, basically a cube three meters on a side, and all but filled with water. But the water could not occur here naturally; it had to come in from somewhere. He searched with his fingers for the vent.

There! His hands had been pa.s.sing over the smooth surface of the walls when suddenly they encountered an empty s.p.a.ce. Taking his time to explore the opening fully, he ran his fingers around the edge. The hole was not quite a meter wide and less than half of that high. It would be a tight squeeze, but he could manage to get out of there. He surfaced once more for a gasp of air, then dived and pushed himself through the opening.

At first, this narrow pa.s.sageway continued level, and he despaired of its going anywhere; but, after a couple of meters, it started sloping upward. Finally his head broke the surface once more and he could breathe sweet, fresh air. Feeling both mentally and physically exhausted, he dragged himself up the ramp onto a dry floor, dreading whatever ordeal might be next in store for him.

There was only one door in the room, twenty meters away; unless he chose to return to the water he would have to go through it. With a sigh he set out but, though the room was bare of furnishings, it was not as easy to cross as it first appeared.

An ultragrav unit had been planted under the floor, causing a gravity gradient as he approached the door. Where he had emerged from the water the force was only one Earth gravity, but it rose quickly as he moved. Within only a couple of meters it was up to two and a half gravities. That in itself would not have been too bad, because that was the gravitational strength on his own native world; but it went up still further as he progressed. Within another few meters it was up to five gees, and the doorway looked no nearer than it had before.

He felt as though he had a twin brother riding on his back. Coming on top of all his previous exertions, this was torture. Keeping his head up was a major effort; moving his limbs was a near miracle. He moved with a relentless determination to reach the portal. Once there, he was sure, the ultragrav would shut off and he would return to Earth standard gravity. He didn't care what other traps might await him there; they couldn't be any worse than this.

Still the gravity increased, and he sank slowly to his knees to crawl forward. Although the floor looked perfectly level, it felt uphill all the way.

At seven gravities his eyes were refusing to focus. He continued forward out of habit and willpower rather than by any conscious plan. Even holding himself up on his hands and knees seemed too much of an effort. He slid down on his belly and pulled himself along. Sometimes he felt he was barely making any progress at all, but he did move forward, however slowly.

After a dozen eons the force on his body suddenly eased. Startled, he looked around and found that he had pa.s.sed through the doorway into a well-lit room. There were two chairs and a desk there. The desktop was littered with papers. Before him stood his teacher, George Wilson, in a clean uniform, looking down on him with a smile on his face.

"Congratulations," Wilson said. "You seem to have made it in relatively one piece." He extended a hand to the man's prostrate form. "Would you like some help up?"

"No, thanks. I can manage." The testee pulled himself shakily to his feet and, at his teacher's nod, walked over to one of the chairs and sat down.

Wilson took the other chair and started shuffling through the papers. "Now for the evaluation," he said. "You didn't do too badly, actually. You made very good time against the spotlight. You were a bit clumsy jumping over the electrified plate in lap two, but results are more important than form in something like that. You were quick to find your way out of the water chamber, and you had the stamina to pull your way through the grav room. Which leaves only..."

And before he had said another word he was pulling a blaster from a concealed holster. He was still smiling, but now the smile seemed cold and heartless. Wilson would have loved nothing better than to direct a blaster beam straight through his student's heart.

Tired though he was, the testee reacted to this new and totally unexpected threat. All through his training, his teachers had warned him against complacency. "Expect anything at any time," they told him. "In our business, you won't go far wrong that way."

From a totally relaxed position, the testee quickly pushed his chair backwards and slid under the desk. Arching his back upwards, he lifted the entire desk off the floor and slammed it into his instructor. Wilson was prepared for the trouble and knew how to fall. The blaster flew from his hand and landed on the far side of the room. Both men scrambled for it, but the student got there first. Picking up the weapon, he aimed it squarely at his teacher. "Khorosho," he said between pants, "maybe now you'll tell me what's going on."

In the control center, a host of technicians kept a careful watch on the events of the test, making sure everything started when it should and that nothing, no matter how dangerous it seemed, would cause any serious harm to the partic.i.p.ant. The purpose was not to kill him, but to discover exactly what his capabilities were in field action. The Service of the Empire had to know what its agents could do before it sent them out on their a.s.signments. With the safety and security of the entire Empire at stake, it could hardly afford any miscalculations.

Overlooking the rows of technicians monitoring their instruments was a VIP booth, where special visitors could also witness the proceedings. At present there were three very interested spectators: two women and a man.

One of the women was a tall, slender aristocrat with long black hair and a handsome face. Helena von Wilmenhorst was the daughter of, and chief a.s.sistant to, the Head of the Service of the Empire. Despite the fact that she was only twenty-one years old, she was rapidly maturing into one of the most capable planners and administrators the Service had ever seen, thanks to the able tutelage of her father. Helena owed her life to the man now being tested, and no power in the universe would have kept her away from observing his final tests.

The other two people in the booth were similarly indebted to the young man and likewise had a great deal of interest in the outcome. Jules and Yvette d'Alembert, the brother-sister team from the heavy gravity planet DesPlaines, were the top two agents in SOTE's mighty a.r.s.enal. Not only were they naturally strong and quick, as people from high-grav worlds tended to be, but they'd had a rigorous training almost from the moment of their births that few people in the galaxy were privileged to undergo. The d'Alembert family were the owners of, and princ.i.p.al performers in, the Circus of the Galaxy.

In addition to being the top entertainment attraction on any planet it played, the Circus bad another function: almost since its inception centuries ago, it had been the ultra-top-secret right arm of SOTE. Jules and Yvette had been the star aerialists for years before leaving to move up to their true jobs as agents of the Emperor.

They did not look physically imposing. Jules d'Alembert stood only a hundred and seventy-three centimeters tall, though he ma.s.sed a respectable hundred kilograms; his sister Yvette was ten centimeters shorter and thirty kilos lighter. But the two of them were in a more superb condition, both mentally and physically, than any mere mortal had a right to expect. On the thousand point test, Jules was the only person living to have scored a perfect thousand. Yvette was only an eyelash behind him at 999.

Now they watched eagerly as their friend, Pias Bavol, went through the final stages of that same test. Although they had met him less than five months ago, the young man had won their friendship and, indeed, saved their lives in a couple of situations on their last a.s.signment. Though he had not had the lifetime background in undercover work that they had, he showed such a proclivity for it that induction into the Service was a logical result. The fact that he and Yvette had fallen in love and were going to be married made it necessary as well.

The three spectators watched anxiously on their trivision monitors as Pias Bavol began his ordeal. Each of the three had undergone this on his own, and knew exactly how harrowing it could be. There was no pa.s.sing or failing mark on the thousand-point test, particularly this final section. Pias Bavol had already done well enough on the written and apt.i.tude tests to qualify for a good job with the Service. This test, though, would be crucial to his ultimate placement. If he ranked low in field skills, he would be a.s.signed to some less demanding job in administration. Only the select few who could handle themselves well under such arduous conditions could be allowed to undertake field a.s.signments that might put their lives in peril.

Helena laid a hand gently on Yvette's shoulder. "I hope he makes it," she said. "I know you'd like to have him working with you in the field rather than staying at a desk job while you go out on a.s.signments."

Yvette nodded. "He'll be smooth, I'm sure. Anyone who could get to Sanctuary and do everything he did without any formal training at all just has to be a natural-born field agent." But her words projected more confidence than she actually felt.

"In a way, I almost hope he doesn't make it," Jules said softly.

His sister turned to look at him aghast. "Julie, what a rotten thing to say! Are you jealous?"

Jules smiled at her, defusing her powder keg. "d.a.m.ned right I am. You and I are the best team going, and I hate the thought of splitting it up."

"You mean to tell me you object to teaming up with Vonnie?" Yvette countered.

A dopey grin appeared on Jules's face at the mere thought of his fiancee, Yvonne Roumenier. "Well, I must admit there will be certain compensations...

Yvette gave him a triumphant snort. "I thought as much. But you'd better watch out. Whenever you're with her you keep stumbling over your own feet because you can't look at anything else. Some team you'll make."

Helena interrupted to bring an end to this good-natured sibling banter. "It's starting," she said simply. Jules and Yvette turned their attention back to the screens. They watched as Pias Bavol survived his first encounter with the spotlight in the darkened room and then made his way rapidly down the long, treacherous corridor. "Good!" Yvette called out at one point. "I knew he'd spot that electrified plate. He's going to make it, Julie, he's going to make it."

Jules nodded slowly. There'd never been any doubt in his mind about Pias's abilities.

"If he does well enough," Helena commented, "my father has a personal gift for you and him, Yvette two round-trip tickets to Newforest."

Yvette turned away from the screen for a moment to stare at her friend openmouthed. Newforest was Pias's home planet; he was the eldest son of that world's duke. Pias had not been home for close to three years, ever since he had left to seek revenge for the death of his former fiancee. Now Yvette would be returning with him in triumph, to meet his family and share that much more a part of his life. "Oh Helena, I don't know what to say."

"Then watch the screen and don't say anything. Father knew how grateful you'd be. It's part of his thanks to you and Pias for saving my life on Sanctuary. And my thanks too, of course."

Yvette looked back to the screen, where Pias was now immersed in water and looking for a way out. It was Jules's turn to look at Helena. "I saved your life, too," he said with mock jealousy. "Don't I get any paid vacations?"

"I think father has something in mind for you maybe not as much fun, but just as easy. He'll be calling you in to tell you about it tomorrow. Now shut up and let me see how Pias is making out."

The three young people watched and chortled triumphantly as their friend found his way out through the pipe into the gravity chamber. As he made his tedious way to the exit, all three were groaning in sympathy, shouting encouragement that they knew he could not hear. When he finally made it through the portal, Yvette let out a small cheer. "Only one more to go," she whispered. "Please don't let him be fooled."

They watched with bated breath as the final scene between Pias and his instructor played itself out. As Pias grabbed the gun and turned it on Wilson, Yvette sagged in her chair with visible relief. Helena leaned forward and punched at a row of b.u.t.tons in the console before her. Her screen went blank, and a moment later a series of numbers appeared. "Would you like to see how he made out?" she asked her two friends.

"I'm almost afraid to," Yvette said, but she looked anyway. There were several rows of numbers on the screen, indicating Pias's scores on separate parts of the test. Yvette ignored those and, instead, checked only the bottom line: "INTEGRATED SCORE: 994."

With a whoop of pure joy, Yvette bounded out of her chair and through the door leading downstairs to the evaluation room where she could see her lover again. "I think we'd better follow her," Jules said in a more restrained but still jubilant voice, "before she hurts herself." He and Helena left the room at a saner pace, listening to the echoes of Yvette's footsteps leading the way.

Back down in the room, Pias was still holding the gun warily on Wilson. A loudspeaker blared mechanically out of the wall, "This section of the test is over. Applicant is to proceed to evaluation room for final processing."

Wilson smiled at his student. "It's over now. Sorry to have to do that to you, but it is a necessary part of the test. In our business you can't really trust anyone completely."

"Then how do I know to trust you now?" Pias was not about to let go of the gun.

"You could try shooting me if you like; the gun doesn't work. I'm just going to stay here while you go through that door. I'm told there'll be someone there who may convince you, although I'm not allowed to see who it is."

Pias backed carefully to the door, not taking his eyes off the other until he reached it. Then, as a test, he aimed the blaster at the floor and fired. Nothing happened. With a grin, he tossed the blaster lightly back to his teacher. "Thanks for all you've taught me," he said.

In reply, Wilson raised his hand in the air in a general salute. "Here's to tomorrow, fellow and friend," he said.

"May we both live to see it," Pias finished the Service toast. Then, without further ado, he turned and went through the door.

Almost immediately he was being smothered by a pa.s.sionate female. "Hey, I thought the test was over," he protested. "I didn't know I'd have to risk being kissed to death as well."

"You're all wet-literally," Yvette laughed between kisses. "It's a good thing I love you so much, you sopping specimen of humanity." She went right back to kissing him, and Pias, despite his general fatigue, resigned himself to his fate. If he were going to be kissed, he might as well enjoy it.

CHAPTER 2.

Abelard the Librarian.

A less touching encounter was taking place fifteen thousand kilometers away, on another continent of Earth, in a tastefully decorated suite of offices. The woman who was known to most people only as Lady A sat behind a large desk whose top was abnormally tidy. She used the desk largely as a prop, to put more social distance between herself and whoever else was in the room. It gave the impression that she was unapproachable-which was all but true anyway.

Abel Howard, the man she was currently interviewing, seemed unimpressed by the trappings of her office: He was a big man with wide shoulders and a narrow intellect, and he was not accustomed to thinking of women as anything more than kitchen help or playthings. The fact that he was being hired by one was an anomaly, but he expected the situation to right itself very shortly.

Lady A sized Howard up. She had seen his like many times before. Unfortunately, in her line, she frequently had to deal with society's outcasts to accomplish her purpose. She was patient, however; she could wait for the proper moment to a.s.sert her authority.

"You say you have ten men at your disposal?" she asked.

"That's right." Howard leaned his knuckles on the end of her desk like a gorilla, which he resembled in more ways than one. "You couldn't ask for better."

"I need a gang with more muscle than that," she said, a sweet smile spreading across her face. Anyone who knew her would have dreaded that smile. "Some of the targets you'll be after will be pretty well guarded. I'd suggest at least twice that number."

"I'll take that under consideration, gospozha, but as far as my gang goes, I make the decisions."

Lady A decided that his insolence had gone far enough. Pushing her chair back, she stood up behind the desk and walked around to the front until she was beside Howard. She came barely up to the big man's shoulders. "You realize that you came to me highly recommended."

Howard grinned. "You won't find better on Earth for any money."

"So I'm told, which is why I've tolerated your behavior thus far. However, there is a certain natural order of things that must be remembered." She ran one hand sensuously over the front of Howard's shirt. The man's grin broadened. "That order is, when I pay the money, I make the decisions."

As she spoke, she suddenly grabbed the front of Howard's shirt and pulled him forward. Her other hand grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked his head back, exposing a wide expanse of throat. Howard gurgled a little for breath at the unexpected attack and tried to struggle, but he found that the grip of this seemingly delicate woman was unbreakable.

"Now listen to me, you blubbering baboon," Lady A said in cold, measured tones. "I could break you in half more easily than you could snap a twig-and don't think I haven't been tempted. I will be paying you good money, for which I shall expect decent return without insolence. I will be obeyed without question. Do I make myself understood?"

Howard could barely choke out an answer. "Yes." "And another thing. From now on, you are to address me as 'Your Ladyship.' Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship."

"Good." She let go of him suddenly and Howard fell to his knees, gasping for air. Lady A meanwhile walked casually back behind her desk and sat down, waiting for his choking spasm to stop before she continued.

"Now, as I said, you will have twenty men available, though you may not need them all on each a.s.signment. If you have to hire more, that is your concern."

She took an envelope out of one drawer of the desk. "Here are the instructions for your first target. You are to burn them immediately after reading them. There is to be no trace left of any connection between us. That's all. You may go now."

"Yes, Your Ladyship." And Howard backed out the door bowing, a very changed man.

Lady A smiled. She actually welcomed the chance to have gotten a little hostility out of her system. And sometimes a show of force was necessary to keep the hired help in line.

The Empire's Primary Computer Complex was one of the most incredible feats of engineering ever at= tempted by -man. But enormous problems require equally enormous solutions. In order to govern a realm spread out over more than thirteen hundred worlds, vast amounts of information were needed. The information had to be instantly accessible, conveniently located and readily correlated. It would have to be defended against possible attack from enemies seeking to cripple the Empire by depriving it of the very information it needed to survive. And above all, it had to be accurate.

The Complex was built and put into operation a few years before the death of Emperor Stanley IX. An asteroid twenty-five kilometers in diameter was moved out of its...o...b..t between Mars and Jupiter and put into orbit circling the Earth. The interior was hollowed out by a series of carefully calculated nuclear explosions, then lined with lead to prevent later contamination. Inside this immense hollow planetoid was constructed the largest, most efficient computer ever conceived. Teams of experts had designed it to the ultimate in technological sophistication; even now, nearly fifty years after its completion, it was still said that no one man could ever fully understand its workings.