UPSTARTS

By L. J. STECHER, JR.

Illustrated by DILLON

The sight of an Earthmanon Vega III, where it wasimpossible for an outlanderto be, brought angry crowds to surroundJohn Crownwall as he strodetoward the palace of ViceroyTronn Ffallk, ruler of Sector XIIof the Universal Holy Empire ofSunda. He ignored the snarling, thespitting, the waving of bonelessprehensile fingers, as he ignored theheavy gravity and heavier air ofthe unfamiliar planet.

John Crownwall, florid, red-headedand bulky, considered himselfto be a bold man. But here,surrounded by this writhing, slitheringmass of eight-foot creatures,he felt distinctly unhappy. Crownwallhad heard about creatures thatslavered, but he had never beforeseen it done. These humanoids hadlarge mouths and sharp teeth, andthey unquestionably slavered. Hewished he knew more about them.If they carried out the threats oftheir present attitude, Earth wouldhave to send Marshall to replacehim. And if Crownwall couldn't dothe job, thought Crownwall, thenit was a sure bet that Marshallwouldn't have a chance.

He climbed the great ramp, withits deeply carved Greek key design,toward the mighty entrancegate of the palace. His mannerdemonstrated an elaborate air ofunconcern that he felt sure was entirelywasted on these monsters.The clashing teeth of the noisiestof them were only inches from thequivering flesh of his back as hereached the upper level. Instantly,and unexpectedly to Crownwall,the threatening crowd droppedback fearfully, so that he walkedthe last fifty meters alone.

Crownwall all but sagged withrelief. A pair of guards, their purplehides smoothly polished and gleamingwith oil, crossed their ceremonialpikes in front of him as heapproached the entrance.

"And just what business do youhave here, stranger?" asked thesenior of the guards, his speakingorifice framing with difficulty thesibilances of Universal Galactic.

"What business would I have atthe Viceroy's Palace?" askedCrownwall. "I want to see Ffallk."

"Mind your tongue," growledthe guard. "If you mean His Effulgence,Right Hand of the GloriousEmperor, Hereditary Ruler of theSeventy Suns, Viceroy of theTwelfth Sector of the UniversalHoly Empire"—Universal Galactichad a full measure of ceremonialwords—"he sees only those whomhe summons. If you know what'sgood for you, you'll get out of herewhile you can still walk. And if yourun fast enough, maybe you caneven get away from that crowd outthere, but I doubt it."

"Just tell him that a man hasarrived from Earth to talk to him.He'll summon me fast enough.Meanwhile, my highly polishedfriends, I'll just wait here, so whydon't you put those heavy pikesdown?"

Crownwall sat on the steps,puffed alight a cigarette, and blewexpert smoke rings toward theguards.

An elegant courtier, with elaboratelyjeweled harness, bustledfrom inside the palace, obviouslytrying to present an air of strollingnonchalance. He gestured fluidlywith a graceful tentacle. "You!" hesaid to Crownwall. "Follow me. HisEffulgence commands you to appearbefore him at once." The twoguards withdrew their pikes andfroze into immobility at the sidesof the entrance.

Crownwall stamped out hissmoke and ambled after the hurryingcourtier along tremendous corridors,through elaborate waitingrooms, under guarded doorways,until he was finally bowed througha small curtained arch.