"You had no right!" shouted Spence. Ortu's head swung wobbily toward him.

"Benasthani risto! No right? I took it on myself. I had the kastak-the power. The only way to keep them from destroying this world and themselves was to bring them under my rule, and for this I have labored centuries of your time." Ortu shrugged and seemed to grow weary of talking. His head fell forward on his sunken chest and he closed his eyes once more.

"I don't believe you," said Spence. He quivered inside with rage at what had been done to him by the twisted and perverted creature before him.

"I had power," muttered Ortu. "With the tanti I planted ideas, dreams in men's mind bringing them ever closer to the time when I would reveal myself as their ruler. But it is over now…"

The hairless head rolled on the shoulders and the terribly thin, wasted limbs fell feebly aside. The body teetered momentarily and then toppled forward, onto the cushions, on its side. It jerked once convulsively and then lay still.

"No!" shouted Spence, rushing forward. He wanted to pound the life back into that obscene body and make it talk to him, to tell him why the things he had been made to suffer had been done to him. He felt cheated and used and violated.

"He is dead." Spence felt cool hands on him as he stood seething over the body of the Dream Thief.

"But how?"

"He was very old and sick. The seeds of his destruction were sown long ago. Only the power of the kastak kept him alive. Now, he has joined the bright ones. It is over."

"No. It isn't over." Spence looked around the room quickly, coming to himself. "Where's Hocking? We've got to find him before…"

Just then they heard a stifled gasp and turned to see a slightly bowed figure standing in the doorway. It was Pundi, the old manservant, with his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with amazement.

Spence went over to him and grabbed him by the arm before he could run away. The servant's face had gone white and he stared at the body of his master lying so still on the cushions.

"Where are the others?"

"Is… my master…?" Pundi turned his wide eyes on Spence and Kyr in turn. His expression was one of fear and relief mingled in equal proportions.

"Yes, he is dead," said Spence. "Tell us where the others are. Where's Ari and her father?" he demanded, shaking the servant's arm.

At that moment Adjani and Gita appeared in the doorway. They looked at the body of the dead Martian, and then Adjani announced, "We can't find them-Ari, her father, Hocking. We've been all over this part of the palace."

"Where are they?" Spence shouted at the servant who still gazed at his fallen master. The man mumbled something unintelligible.

"He says that his master's vimana has been made ready," replied Gita.

"Quick!" said Spence, pushing the bewildered Pundi before him. "Take us to them! Hurry!"

Kyr stooped over the ancient body of the Dream Thief, folding its limbs and arranging it carefully. "Go," he said. "I will join you."

Spence, Gita, and Adjani left the chamber pushing Pundi ahead of them. As they entered the corridor they heard a low rumble, which shook the foundations of the palace to its mountain roots.

"What was that?" exclaimed Spence. He and Adjani looked at each other.

"It sounded like a blast."

"It was the vimana of my master, no doubt," said Pundi.

They dashed through the passageway and out into the courtyard. Over stones thick with moss they ran and stopped to stand looking at a brightly blazing orange star that burned up into the heavens, diminishing rapidly.

White smoke still billowed from the ruins of the collapsed central dome, which for centuries had sheltered the vehicle. "Hocking!" said Spence.

When they burst into the tower keep they found August Zanderson sitting with his head in his hands moaning and whimpering.

"Director, what happened?" said Adjani rushing to his side. A quick look around the room confirmed Spence's worst fears: Ari was gone. He knew, even before her father told them, that Hocking had taken her with him to make good his escape. "Where's he taking her?" asked Spence, dark fire flashing from his eyes.

"I can't be sure, but I think he intended to go back to Gotham. He said something about the station being ready to receive them-he had two others with him. There may have been more." His face, at first hopeful and expectant, now fell as the impact of what he said hit him afresh. "She's gone. We can't catch them now-it'll be days before we can get a shuttle up. Oh," he moaned, running his hand through his hair. The man was vastly changed since Spence had last seen him. He looked gaunt and haggard; a straggly, speckled beard of coarse stubble lined his jaw. His eyes were red-rimmed and deeply pouched.

"We'll catch them," said Spence.

"We'd better hurry," said Adjani. "They have a good head start."

29

…

THEIR PLAN FAILED MISERABLY. Hocking reached the station first and was ready for them. A brief scuffle in the docking bay-resulting in taser darting all around for the would- be rescuers-put a swift end to the rescue attempt.

Spence came to lying facedown in a cell, groggily shaking off the effects of the taser dart and wondering what had happened. They had counted on Director Zanderson's sudden forceful appearance to throw the mutineers into panic, thereby giving them time to marshall the help they needed from Gotham's alarmed populace.

But they never had a chance to sound the alarm. Chief Ramm and his men had been waiting for them the moment they stepped from the craft. It was all masterfully calculated.

Looking at it now, Spence wondered why they had thought it could have turned out any differently. They acted foolishly and had been easily outsmarted by Hocking. How could it have been otherwise? Their every move had been foreseen.

Now he was alone in a cell in the security section, feeling as if someone had clubbed him and then used him for a pidg bird. He felt weak and mushy inside, his limbs trembled with the neurological aftereffects of the taser jolt, his mouth tasted of blood, and his nose throbbed from taking the full force of his headfirst dive into the floorplates when the dart hit him.

With a groan he rolled into a sitting position and saw a small puddle of dried blood where his face had pressed against the floor. He hesitantly touched a finger to his nose and found it painfully swollen, but probably not broken. It had bled freely all over his jumpsuit.

On his hands and knees he dragged himself to the small vestibule set in the wall. He ran water in the tiny sink and splashed it on his face, washing the blood from his cheek and neck. He rinsed out his mouth, spit, and then glanced at himself in the mirror.

The forlorn image he saw staring back at him did not greatly cheer him. Nor did his prospects for the immediate future.

What would they do with him? And the others? Then he remembered Ari. Hot black rage flowed up like molten lava within him. Where was she? What had they done to her?

His rage burned out in futile ravings and exhausted itself in hurling him against the clear plastic door to his cell. He slid once more to the floor to sit with his back against the door, panting, crying tears of anger and frustration, grinding his fists against the floor.

The wave of temper left him and he lay dejectedly against the door. It was then that he smelled something burning.

The smell of melting plastic filled the cell within seconds, throwing him into a fit of coughing. He lay down on the floor to keep from suffocating on the fumes. Smoke from a spot in the center of the floor began to rise, forming a thick black cloud on the ceiling of the cell. He watched the column of smoke, fascinated and appalled at the same time. What the devil is going on? he wondered.