The Dragon and the George

COUP D'ETAT

The few scattered millions of the Frontier Worlds attempting to conquer the eighty odd billions of the three Solar Systems Worlds? It was so incredible Cully refused to believe his interrogators were serious.

But perhaps he should not have damned them all for a bunch of paranoid spacehobs. They had hijacked his spacecraft, taken him prisoner, and now they were forcing him to listen… listen to their desperate plan for survival among the Aliens' stars, an outrageous assault that could mean death for the human race!

Feared and respected as the most effective soldiers humanity has ever known, the Dorsai find their reputation at risk when an invader attacks their planet, inhabited only by the Dorsai women who are left behind to defend it.

A portion of this book was published as "Brothers" in ASTOUNDING: John W. Campbell Memorial Anthology

CONTENTS

Prologue

Amanda Morgan

Interlude

Brothers

Epilogue

What was it that Bleys wanted from life?

He forced himself to look squarely at the limited years, months and days of his own likely existence. Suppose he gave himself the longest possible lifetime—say a hundred and twenty years during which he could be active and useful. What a drop that still was in the ocean of time that was the history of human race itself.

He did not want to be just a drop in the ocean of past history … His whole self rebelled against the idea that he could live and die without having had any important impact on the rest of humanity … He must find some greater value for himself than the millions of others had …

He tried to picture the human race. There was much, very much, that was good about them … they had spread out from their original home to fifteen other worlds. But what they were on all those worlds now was largely what they had been when they first began to stand upright and think on Old Earth. They were still the same people.

Perhaps there was some way in which he could help them up the stairs, even one step toward being something better. Something more capable—as he was capable.

The moment that thought occurred to him, he knew that the had found it.

HE FELT HIMSELF BEING WRENCHED AND FLUNG—

AS IF ACROSS SOME IMAGINABLE DISTANCE OF TIME OR SPACE…

The aged face of the man who called himself James Rater Bailey had worn a snarl when they left him alone in the cell with Doug. His gnarled fingers clutched at the tattered charms he always wore about his throat and he muttered something, as if praying to the devils it had been said he worshipped.

Doug has never sought help, knowing he could expect none. It had been a fair fight after he was attacked, and the hoodlum’s death had been an accident. Doug could have escaped if he had not called for an ambulance. But he had not asked for mercy even after he had learned the drunk was the son of the state’s Governor. He had faced their gas chamber without pleading.

“Doug.” The old man’s voice had been urgent. “I came to help you—for your grandfather’s sake.”

Doug snorted. “Miracles don’t work against cyanide.”

“Doug, listen. You won’t believe me—nobody ever did. But take this!” A tiny capsule had fallen from his crooked hand.

Now, fighting the spasms from the deadly gas, Doug seemed to be dreaming . . of another time and place…