Read Online Watchers of the Dark by Lloyd Biggle jr. - Free Book Online Page B

know how to come back and try again.”
    “Any place would be better than this,” Miss Schlupe said distastefully, tiptoeing around a puddle of ooze and touching her fingers to her nose.
    “Not necessarily. The dead bodies in the next place could be our own. But I agree. We should get out of here.” He turned for another look at the destination board. “These lower slides are arranged differently. If we knew why, it would probably be important.”
    Miss Schlupe gasped and leaped aside. Darzek whirled, leveling his automatic. A strange creature stood beside them, a blurred image of Smith, with wider body and an extra three feet of height. Darzek backed away slowly, but the creature paid no attention to him. He was staring at the three dead bodies, and on his inhuman face was a very human look of horror.
    He bent over one of the tubular weapons and spoke in large-talk. “The Eye of Death!” he moaned.
    “Poetic,” Darzek said agreeably. “In spite of which it might be a highly effective gadget if used properly.”
    “It is forbidden!”
    “Too bad we didn’t know. We could have spanked their hands.”
    The creature turned his attention to Darzek. He said wonderingly, “You were attacked by three, with Eyes of Death —and you live?”
    “My mother always said I was stubborn, but my father blamed it on meanness.”
    The huge, hideous face became contorted with an expression not remotely unlike astonishment. The mouth shaped a whisper. “Now I understand why you were chosen. Praise Supreme!”
    “I’m glad someone understands. Look, friend—normally I don’t stand on formality, but under the circumstances I think you should tell us who you are.”
    The other delivered a genuflection, a curious circular movement of the arm. “I am EIGHT.”
    “Eight what?” Darzek demanded.
    “I am the eighth member of the Council of Supreme.”
    “Congratulations. Would you mind proving that?”
    The other stared.
    “I have a nasty, suspicious disposition,” Darzek went on, “and it wasn’t improved by what happened a short time ago.” He gestured at the three bodies. “Who are they?”
    “Agents of the Dark. Where is Biag-n? Why didn’t he bring you to me?”
    “Biag-n died before he could meet us, which left us in a situation I would call a pretty pickle if that weren’t so aptly descriptive of some of the local citizens.” He said in English, “Does he look honest, Schluppy?”
    “He looks scared to death.”
    “It may amount to the same thing. Look, EIGHT,” he said, changing to large-talk, “we’re allergic to rooms containing dead bodies, and we don’t know how to work the transmitter. Would you mind getting us out of here?”
    EIGHT had sunk onto a chair, where he sat with arms encircling his head despairingly. “It is as I feared,” He moaned. “The Dark has agents everywhere. Biag-n—”
    “Died a hero’s death—I think. But let’s eulogize him some other time.”
    EIGHT got to his feet. “Did you personalize the transmitter?”
    “I don’t think so. Not unless I could have done it without knowing how.”
    “I am not thinking. I can’t think. Of course you didn’t, or I could not have entered. The agents of the Dark could not have entered. You should have personalized the transmitter. You really don’t know how? I’ll show you.”
    “Not with this transmitter, you won’t. Not if ‘personalize’ means what I think it does. The less evidence we leave here, the better I’ll like it.”
    “How could the Dark have learned that you were coming to Primores?” EIGHT demanded. “And that Biag-n was an agent of Supreme? No one knew. No one except—how could the Dark—”
    “Let’s play Twenty Questions some other time. Get us out of here.”
    EIGHT strode to the transmitter, thought for a moment, touched out a destination. “Follow me,” he said, and was gone.
    Miss Schlupe gestured disgustedly. “Damn! And we still don’t know how to work the transmitter!”
    “He set it