Watchers of the Dark by Lloyd Biggle jr. Page A

table and wheezed mournfully with each jerky breath. THREE parted an absurdly fashioned smock, activated a liquid spray, and inhaled greedily through nostrils located far down on his chest. SEVEN nervously gulped food and masticated with noisy constrictions of his stomach.
    “But what can it do?” SIX demanded, with eyes fixed on Darzek.
    “That is what we are here to decide,” EIGHT said.
    “Doomed!” SIX muttered. “The galaxy is doomed. Even if we knew the weapon we could do nothing. What defense is there against a weapon that plunges an entire world into madness?”
    SEVEN nervously gulped more food. FOUR’S voice box emitted static. The others said nothing.
    “Will the creature report to us, or directly to Supreme?” THREE demanded suddenly.
    “That is not yet decided,” EIGHT said.
    “If it reports to Supreme, Supreme will reveal only what it wants us to know—and that only if we ask,” THREE grumbled.
    “What can it do ?” SIX demanded again, eyes still fixed on Darzek. “And if such a creature can thwart the Dark, might it not possess a dangerous mental weapon of its own? Might we not be replacing one menace with another?”
    “I place my trust in Supreme,” EIGHT said simply. “Supreme selected him. Supreme does not err.”
    Darzek decided that he had heard enough. The longer he listened, the more puzzled he became. Obviously his business was with Supreme, rather than the Council. There was no real necessity for this meeting, except to satisfy the Councillors’ curiosity. They wanted to see him; they had seen him. They wanted to know his plans, but as yet he had none, and he would have been disposed to keep them to himself if he had.
    He got to his feet. Somewhere there was work for him to do, even if he did not know precisely where, or what the work was. It was time that he brought this farce to a close.
    But as he faced the Council he had another idea. He said bluntly, “What help can you give me?”
    He could only guess that they were startled, for he still could not look at them individually. He repeated his question. “What help can you give me?”
    FOUR’S voice box squawked protestingly. “Supreme has already given you unlimited solvency!”
    “Am I supposed to buy the Dark?” Darzek demanded.
    It was disconcerting just to listen to them breathe. They whistled and fluttered and puffed and gargled. One of them rasped horribly with each breath, as though his respiratory system had to tear the air apart with brute force to get at the life-giving oxygen. There were odors, too, but Darzek had stopped breathing through his nose the moment he entered the room.
    “Some of you may have specialized knowledge,” he said thoughtfully. “All of you should be able to give me useful information. I’m adjourning this meeting now. I’ll visit each of you in your rooms to find out what you can tell me. Then I’ll call you together again.”
    THREE grumbled, “You mean we have to wait here—”
    “Not if you are concerned with other matters more urgent than the Dark,” Darzek said sarcastically.
    He watched with elation as the Councillors meekly left the room. He was firmly in control, and he might even learn something of value.
    He hurried after EIGHT and asked him, “Do you have specialized knowledge?”
    “The uncertified worlds,” EIGHT said.
    “What about the others?”
    “ONE’s is finance, but you already have unlimited solvency. TWO’S is commerce. THREE’S is the perimeter worlds. FOUR’S—”
    “I’ll take them all in numerical order,” Darzek said.
    From ONE he received a surfeit of technical jargon and a quick awareness that the arena of interstellar finance held no charms for him. Neither could he think of any conceivable weapon that it might offer against the Dark. He extricated himself at the first moment that he could do so politely and moved on.
    TWO was a surprise to Darzek. An old trader, a veteran of fantastic, far-flung business arrangements, his squeaky