Once Upon A Planet Part 1

Once Upon A Planet.

by J. J. Allerton.

[Sidenote: The mighty King Miotis came down to Earth to recapture his lost desire for war. But what he saw on this planet, caused him to feel differently.]

Once upon a planet there was a mighty warlord. The warlord's name was Miotis. Some might think it an odd name, but then it is entirely probable that the people of this planet would think the name of Smith or Jenkovitz odd. Be that as it may, however, the important thing is that Miotis was the name of this warlord, whatever one may feel about his name.

Now, Miotis was not just a mighty warrior, he was the _mightiest_ warrior on the planet. As such, he controlled the life of every person there. For isn't it a truism that war bends men's destiny in the strangest fas.h.i.+ons? So Miotis, with his entire life devoted to the art of destruction, was able to direct the lives of his subjects.

But one day, to his consternation and amazement, he found that the peoples of his planet had wearied of the sport of war. In the middle of his last campaign, his men as well as his enemies had laid down their arms and had refused to carry on as was their wont. And no amount of threat or punishment could make them change.

On this particular day when our story starts, Miotis was in his palace, his ma.s.sive head leaning against a muscular palm, and his gaze intent on the face of his vizier, Kannot. It was not the sort of face Miotis was especially fond of seeing, for it was old, wrinkled, full of cunning and wisdom.

The vizier was, as always, full of words, and as he spoke one blunt finger tapped the side of his rather bulbous nose: "So you think it strange, mighty Miotis, to find that life is boring?"

"I do not find that _life_ is boring," Miotis replied. "Life is never boring. It is _I_ who am bored. That is the reason I called you here. I could have called any one of my nine hundred concubines for enjoyment, or had my warders drag forth some of my prisoners and found sport in torturing them. Yet, I did not, and I wonder why. In the past, these diversions made pleasant the pa.s.sing of time. Now, I feel an ennui too great to even want to bother to summon one of these which used to give me so much pleasurable excitement.

"Tell me, vizier, have I become so full of war that I cannot live without it?"

Kannot clasped his hands behind him and rocked back and forth for several seconds, the while he bent a thoughtful and appraising eye upon his King. For Kannot knew the vagaries of the man before him and knew that a single word, a single gesture which would displease the great Miotis, would make fewer Kannot's days. Therefore, when he spoke again, it was with care, weighing his words so that he could give his opinion and yet not endanger his life.

"Methinks, oh greatest and wisest of Kings," Kannot said, "that since war has but a single end, something phenomenal in the universe must have occurred to make that end seem less reasonable."

He lowered his eyes, yet made sure he could peer beneath the hooded lids to see how his words were affecting Miotis. There was no sign on the other's face to show how he felt.

Kannot continued, "By that, I mean death may have become less attractive as a means of immortality. Is it not true, also, that you, the greatest and most n.o.ble of warriors, has yourself felt this same reluctance recently to even plan a war?"

The warlord's head nodded slightly in agreement.

"Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that some force of which we have no knowledge has made its presence felt--"

"Now you have presented the problem," Miotis interrupted. "But it is not enough. I want a solution. Already I am weary of this do-nothing life, though it is but a week since we have laid down arms."

Kannot made a sign of obeisance.

"Now go," Miotis said, "and seek out the cause and the solution. One week, vizier, I give you. No more! Your head shall roll, otherwise...."

The trumpets announced the arrival of the vizier, and at the sound the players stopped their tune and the dancers their dance. Miotis, looking as though he hadn't stirred from the position Kannot had left him in the week before, lifted his eyes to the bent figure making its way across the immense length of the hall.

"Mighty Miotis," Kannot began, his head bent and his eyes lowered in the correct att.i.tude of court procedure.

"I bid you speak," Miotis said.

"My Lord, the words I have to say are for your ears alone," Kannot continued.

The warlord waved a hand, and as if by magic the court was emptied but for the guards who never left their posts.

"Speak, old one," Miotis commanded.

"I have found the cause, mighty one," Kannot said. "A surprising one, however, and perhaps an unbelievable one...."

The vizier did not look up, and his face betrayed nothing of what he felt. Yet, his aged heart was beating as if it wanted to escape the flesh in which it was imprisoned. The next words he would utter could spell his doom.

"I sent couriers in every direction, to all the courts of all the lands, to our friends as well as to our enemies. And on their return I discovered one fact in common: Not a single nation was interested in war. Something happened to each--"

"Old one," Miotis broke in, "you weary me with these boresome details.

Come to the point! I know we are all tired dealing death. Why?"

"Because anger has fled from our minds and hearts," Kannot said, and his head lifted. He had spoken the words which had lain in him, the terrible words which could mean his death. And now the die was cast. The proof of his a.s.sertion would soon be shown.

An oddly bitter smile broke on the face of the man on the throne. It was the smile of a man who had learned the taste of utter defeat.

"So you have told me that which I knew in my heart," Miotis said.

"Strange, that I, who loved nothing better than the sound of a sword's blow against armor, should even find the touch of steel repugnant now.

Yet, it is so. I cannot carry a knife without having my flesh crawl, even though a scabbard protects me against its touch. Shall we all become a nation of shepherds? Shall we never again know the glory of battle? Tell me, vizier. Perhaps age has lent you an inner wisdom?"

"Wisdom's words are for the historian," Kannot replied. "I, Kannot, have no time for talk. The planning of deeds is my way. And I have a plan.

"Anger must be found again!" Kannot's voice rose shrilly. "It is our only salvation. But, mighty Miotis, we must look elsewhere than on this planet. There is a planet called Earth...."

Miotis' brow knit in thought. A planet called Earth, he thought. H'mm!

But how were they to get to it? And having got there, did Kannot want them to invade? No, that couldn't be it. Already, the very thought of invading for purposes of conquest went against him.

"... On that planet," Kannot continued, "wars and death by violence are commonplace. There is never a day or week that does not pa.s.s but that somewhere men fight men. What better goal do we need?"

"You have done well," Miotis said. "I could ask for no more. Yet a question persists in my mind. How can you arrange for anger to come to the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of us here from the planet beyond the grey mists of outer s.p.a.ce? We have no s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+ps, nor for that matter, the means of making them."

"I speak not of s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+ps or of men using them," Kannot responded, "for in that matter we have no choice. My thought was in another direction and using another means. I have discovered the way to make a soul-transfer. To put it into words you will better understand, I can do what death does, hold a soul in suspense."

"Which is supposed to have what meaning to me?" Miotis asked.

"Simply this," Kannot said, "I can make a single soul fly through the vast boundaries of s.p.a.ce and into another human body which will be waiting for it. There is but a single man I know who can serve as vehicle--you, mighty Chieftain."

For the first time, Miotis' features showed change from the set expression he wore as a sign of his Kings.h.i.+p. Amazement made him blink, and the hand holding his chin fell to the side of the throne, the fingers tapping against the rich cloth. But after a minute, his face cleared and he looked with brighter interest at his vizier.

"Of course," he said. "Who else should go? And already I have a plan of action. Now tell me what must be done and how soon...."

Bly Stanton rolled over and groaned aloud. His hand shook as he lifted it to feel a throbbing temple. His fingers felt a sticky wetness, and memory returned to him--the raiding party of Himlo men, his discovery of them, and the alarm he had sounded, the fight, and then the blow which had felled him.

He rolled onto his stomach, shoved his hands under him and heaved himself erect. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Except for the buzzing in his brain, he felt all right.