Chapter I: Front Matter

A TRACE OF MEMORY

By KEITH LAUMER

Illustrated by BIRMINGHAM

When Legion signed on as a soldier of fortune he did
not expect to wind up as the master of a private island.
Nor did he expect to cower in ancient Druid pits ... nor
fight for his life in the great hall at Okk-Hamiloth, on
a planet galaxies away. A master story-teller sweeps
you through time and space in a novel of retribution.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Amazing Stories July, August, September 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

He opened his eyes and saw a grey wall where a red light gleamed balefully in the gloom. He lay on a utility mat on a high couch, clad in a gown of strange purple. In his arm there burned a harsh pain, and he saw on his skin the mark of the Hunters. Who could have dared?

He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the narrow cot ... and saw the bodies of two men huddled on the floor, blood-splashed. Beyond, at a doorway, lay another, and another.... What carnage was this? Gently he rolled the nearest body on its back--and crouched rigid in shock. Ammaerln, his friend.... Not dead, but the pulse was faint, too faint. And the next corpse? That, too, wore a face that had been dear to him. And the bodies at the entry--his faithful men. All were friends!

Beyond the door the ranged shelves of a library gave back not even an echo when he called. He turned again to his dead. It was fresh death, the blood still wet. Quickly he scanned the room, saw a recording monitor against a wall. He fitted the neurodes to the dying man's temples. But for this gesture of recording his life's memories, there was nothing he could do. He must get him to a therapist and quickly. But no one answered his calls. Was he alone in these chambers of death?

He ran through the library to a great echoing hall beyond. This was not the Sapphire Palace beside the Shallow Sea. The lines were unmistakable: he was aboard a ship, a far-voyager. Why? How? He stood uncertain. The silence was absolute.

He crossed the Great Hall and entered the observation lounge. Here lay another dead man, by his uniform a member of the crew. He touched a knob and the great screens glowed blue. A giant crescent swam into focus, locked, soft green against the black of space. Beyond it a smaller companion hung, blue-blotched, airless. What worlds were these?

* * * * *

When he had ranged the vast ship from end to end he knew that he alone still lived. Seven corpses, cruelly slashed, peopled the silent vessel. In the control sector the communicator lights glowed but to his call there was no answer from the strange world below.

He returned to the recording room. Ammaerln still breathed weakly. The memory recording had been completed; all that the dying man remembered of his long life was imprinted now in the silvery cylinder. It remained only to color-code the trace; that he would do on his return.

His eye was caught by a small object still projecting from an aperture at the side of the high couch where he had wakened. It was his own memory-trace. So he himself had undergone the Change!

He thrust the color banded cylinder into a gown pocket--then whirled at a sound. A nest of Hunters--the swarming globes of pale light used to track down criminals--clustered at the door; then they were upon him.

Without a weapon, he was helpless. He must escape the ship--and quickly! While the suffocating horde pressed close, humming in their eagerness, he caught up the unconscious Ammaerln. The Hunters trailed him like a luminous streamer as he ran to the shuttle boat bay.

Three shuttles lay in their cradles. He groped to a switch, his head swimming with the sulphurous reek of his attackers. Light flooded the bay, driving them back. He entered the lifeboat, placed the body on a cushioned couch. Perhaps he would find help for his friend below.

It had been long since he had manned the controls of a vessel, but he had not forgotten.

* * * * *

The last of life ebbed from the injured man long before they reached the planetary surface. The boat settled gently and the lock cycled. He looked out at a vista of ragged forest.

This was no civilized world. Only the landing-ring and the clearing around it showed the presence of man.

There was a hollow in the earth by a square marker block at the eastern perimeter of the clearing. He carried his friend there and placed him in it, scraped earth over the body. He lingered for a moment, then he rose and turned back toward the shuttle boat....

* * * * *

A dozen men, squat, bearded, wrapped in the shaggy hides of beasts, stood between him and the access ladder. The tallest among them shouted, raised a bronze sword threateningly. Others clustered at the ladder. One scrambled up, reached the top, disappeared into the boat. In a moment he reappeared at the opening and hurled down an armful of small bright objects of varied shapes and textures. Others clambered up to share the loot as the first man again vanished within the boat. But before the foremost had gained the entry the port closed, shutting off a terrified cry from within the shuttle boat.

Men dropped from the ladder as it swung up. The boat rose slowly, angling toward the west, dwindling. The savages shrank back, awed.

The man watched until the tiny blue light was lost against the sky.