To Save a World

  Contents

  Praise

  Titlepage

  Dedication

  THE WORLD WRECKERS

  Prologue

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Epilogue

  THE PLANET SAVERS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE WATERFALL

  The Critics Hail Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover Novels:

  “A rich and highly colored tale of politics and

  magic, courage and pressure . . . Topflight

  adventure in every way!”

  —Lester Del Rey in Analog

  (for THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR)

  “May well be [Bradley’s] masterpiece.”

  —New York Newsday

  (for THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR)

  “Literate and exciting.”

  —New York Times Book Review

  (for CITY OF SORCERY)

  “Suspenseful, powerfully written, and deeply

  moving.”

  —Library Journal (for STORMQUEEN!)

  “A warm, shrewd portrait of women from

  different backgrounds working together under

  adverse conditions.”

  —Publishers Weekly (for CITY OF SORCERY)

  “I don’t think any series novels have succeeded

  for me the way Marion Zimmer Bradley’s

  Darkover novels did.”

  —Locus (general)

  “Delightful . . . a fascinating world and a great

  read.”

  —Locus (for EXILE’S SONG)

  “Darkover is the essence, the quintessence, my

  most personal and best-loved work.”

  —Marion Zimmer Bradley

  A Reader’s Guide to the Novels of Darkover

  THE FOUNDING

  A “lost ship” of Terran origin, in the pre-empire colonizing days, lands on a planet with a dim red star, later to be called Darkover.

  DARKOVER LANDFALL

  THE AGES OF CHAOS

  A thousand years after the original landfall settlement, society has returned to the feudal level. The Darkovans, their Terran technology renounced or forgotten, have turned instead to freewheeling, out-of-control matrix technology, psi powers and terrible psi weapons. The populace lives under the domination of the Towers and a tyrannical breeding program to staff the Towers with unnaturally powerful, inbred gifts of laran.

  STORMQUEEN!

  HAWKMISTRESS!

  THE HUNDRED KINGDOMS

  An age of war and strife retaining many of the decimating and disastrous effects of the Ages of Chaos. The lands which are later to become the Seven Domains are divided by continuous border conflicts into a multitude of small, belligerent kingdoms, named for convenience “The Hundred Kingdoms.” The close of this era is heralded by the adoption of the Compact, instituted by Varzil the Good. A landmark and turning point in the history of Darkover, the Compact bans all distance weapons, making it a matter of honor that one who seeks to kill must himself face equal risk of death.

  TWO TO CONQUER

  THE HEIRS OF HAMMERFELL

  THE FALL OF NESKAYA

  THE RENUNCIATES

  During the Ages of Chaos and the time of the Hundred Kingdoms, there were two orders of women who set themselves apart from the patriarchal nature of Darkovan feudal society: the priestesses of Avarra, and the warriors of the Sisterhood of the Sword. Eventually these two independent groups merged to form the powerful and legally chartered Order of Renunciates or Free Amazons, a guild of women bound only by oath as a sisterhood of mutual responsibility. Their primary allegiance is to each other rather than to family, clan, caste or any man save a temporary employer. Alone among Darkovan women, they are exempt from the usual legal restrictions and protections. Their reason for existence is to provide the women of Darkover an alternative to their socially restricted lives.

  THE SHATTERED CHAIN

  THENDARA HOUSE

  CITY OF SORCERY

  AGAINST THE TERRANS —THE FIRST AGE (Recontact)

  After the Hastur Wars, the Hundred Kingdoms are consolidated into the Seven Domains, and ruled by a hereditary aristocracy of seven families, called the Comyn, allegedly descended from the legendary Hastur, Lord of Light. It is during this era that the Terran Empire, really a form of confederacy, rediscovers Darkover, which they know as the fourth planet of the Cottman star system. The fact that Darkover is a lost colony of the Empire is not easily or readily acknowledged by Darkovans and their Comyn overlords.

  REDISCOVERY (with Mercedes Lackey)

  THE SPELL SWORD

  THE FORBIDDEN TOWER

  STAR OF DANGER

  THE WINDS OF DARKOVER

  AGAINST THE TERRANS —THE SECOND AGE ( After the Comyn)

  With the initial shock of recontact beginning to wear off, and the Terran spaceport a permanent establishment on the outskirts of the city of Thendara, the younger and less traditional elements of Darkovan society begin the first real exchange of knowledge with the Terrans—learning Terran science and technology and teaching Darkovan matrix technology in turn. Eventually Regis Hastur, the young Comyn lord most active in these exchanges, becomes Regent in a provisional government allied to the Terrans. Darkover is once again reunited with its founding Empire.

  THE BLOODY SUN

  HERITAGE OF HASTUR

  THE PLANET SAVERS

  SHARRA’S EXILE

  WORLD WRECKERS

  EXILE’S SONG

  THE SHADOW MATRIX

  TRAITOR’S SUN

  THE DARKOVER ANTHOLOGIES

  These volumes of stories edited by Marion Zimmer Bradley strive to “fill in the blanks” of Darkovan history, and elaborate on the eras, tales and characters which have captured readers’ imaginations.

  THE KEEPER’S PRICE

  SWORD OF CHAOS

  FREE AMAZONS OF DARKOVER

  THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MIRROR

  RED SUN OF DARKOVER

  FOUR MOONS OF DARKOVER

  DOMAINS OF DARKOVER

  RENUNCIATES OF DARKOVER

  LERONI OF DARKOVER

  TOWERS OF DARKOVER

  MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY’S DARKOVER

  SNOWS OF DARKOVER

  DARKOVER NOVELS IN OMNIBUS EDITIONS

  HERITAGE AND EXILE

  omnibus:

  The Heritage of Hastur / Sharra’s Exile

  THE AGES OF CHAOS

  omnibus:

  Stormqueen! / Hawkmistress!

  THE SAGA OF THE RENUNCIATES

  omnibus:

  The Shattered Chain / Thendara House / City of Sorcery

  THE FORBIDDEN CIRCLE

  omnibus:

  The Spell Sword / The Forbidden Tower

  DEDICATION

  To four people who—each in his or her own way—kept my sense of wonder alive:

  Anne McCaffrey

  Juanita Coulson

  Ursula LeGuin

  and

  Randall Garrett

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  There is a momentum to every operation of growth. The Terran Empire, like every process of human endeavor, was geometric rather than linear in this progression. It began with a few isolated star systems and
planets; they in turn developed, put forth colonies, and then began to burgeon, effloresce, grow in wild and unrestrained proliferation. Within a thousand years a detached scientist might compare their growth—from a perspective of millennia—to that of the spread of the water hyacinth on Earth in the pre-space days; first an isolated phenomenon, then a study in wild growth, finally a menace that threatened to encompass and crowd out everything else.

  Something of the same momentum can be seen in the isolated progress of the Terran Empire on a single planet. First a small scientific outpost, then a colony, a Trade City—

  Darkover, isolated at the edge of a galaxy, with a sun so dim that its name was known only in star catalogs, had halted in the first stages of this isolation for a hundred years.

  But now—look out, Darkover! For the worldwreckers are coming.

  —M. Z. B.

  THE WORLD WRECKERS

  Prologue

  WORLDWRECKERS, INC.

  THEY DIDN'T CALL it that, of course. But that was what it was all the same, and the men knew it as they went up the long series of interlocking escalators which would take them to the isolated penthouse.

  There were two of them, one large and one small, and both with the sort of highly forgettable faces which make for good policemen, detectives or secret agents. The miracles of cosmetic surgery were usually reserved to make people striking; but an astute observer might have guessed that some such cosmetic surgery had been used to remove every trace of individuality from the two faces. Subtly done, of course, but very completely. They had become a part of the crowd, any crowd; and that in itself was a triumph, for they were neither light nor dark, and would not have been noticed, in a crowd of exclusively Afro or Nordic types, as belonging obtrusively to one or the other. If any Masai, or pygmies, had survived on Earth in this year, they would have stood out as not being distinctly of that type; but in this era of highly interracial breeding stock, with the outer extremes of the human phenotype gone forever, they would never be noticed.

  One of the men, who used the name Stannard, and had used so many that he did not remember his original name twice in a year, pondered on it as they stepped onto the final escalator.

  Worldwreckers. He'd been almost everywhere and done almost everything on any planet which would hold him but he'd never dealt with them before.

  Everybody in the Empire knew about them. Mostly it was something you heard about underground and wondered about vaguely, if your business didn't lead you into the tremendous ebb and flow of planetary commerce. What was worldwrecking anyway, you might wonder, and why should anybody care to wreck a world? It sounded like something out of special three-dim cinedrama, and it was vaguely funny.

  But to the people who did come into it—like himself, Stannard reflected—it wasn't funny at all.

  Neither was it tragic.

  It was just business.

  But why had they let their business be known by such a name?

  He shut off the flow of curiosity—it wasn't what he was paid for—as the last escalator came to a slow halt. There were quiet gold-colored curtains all around and an outer reception hall where a girl, almost as unobtrusive as Stannard and his companion, examined their identity cards and let them pass through a metallic door into a small and plain office. Whatever Stannard had expected of this secret network and semilegal business, it wasn't that it would look like a shipping office with the kind of simple computers which kept records of traffic flow, stored information and gave out instant library service. Nor had he really expected that the central head of this vast network would be a woman.

  A woman, quite beautiful and quite young. Or—Stannard amended his thoughts quickly—apparently young. He could detect no scars of cosmetic surgery or molding and he was trained at spotting them, but some tautness around the eyes betrayed that innocent youth had nothing to do with the fair-skinned, unlined face and smooth throat. Her voice was deep and quiet.

  "Mr. Stannard and Mr. Bruce. Please sit down. Your principals, as you probably know, have been in communication with me and have paid the advance deposits which we require before negotiations can be made final. My name is Andrea Closson, and I am fully empowered to deal with you."

  They took seats and she went on, in the same quiet and dispassionate voice:

  "I am prepared to make guarantees, at this point. How much have you been told about this matter of Darkover?"

  Stannard said, "We know as much, we were told, as we would need to know for this conference."

  "Very well, then. You know, of course, that this is illegal. By the various treaties of the Terran Empire, any planet has a right to a Class D trade agreement, which means, in Darkover's case—" briefly, she consulted the glass plate atop her desk where the computer readout could be seen, a flurry of fast pale lights for trained scan readers to instant-scan, "means construction of a large spaceport for Type Beta traffic flow, services and concessions to cater to spaceport personnel, a Mapping and Exploring division, Medical Exchange services, and clearly defined tradezones, with no Terran infiltration into native areas and vice versa. The Thendara Spaceport on Darkover has been in full operation for—" again she consulted the scan reader, "seventy-eight of their years, consisting of 389 days each. Trade is well-established in small medicinals, steel tools and similar Class D artifacts. Under the terms of a Class D agreement there is no mechanized industry, no mining or surface transit, and no continuous input or outflow of exportable or importable goods or services. All efforts to establish negotiations with native Darkovan authorities with a view to opening the planet to colonization and industrialization have failed. Am I right?"

  "Not quite failed," Stannard said. "They've been ignored."

  Andrea Closson shrugged that off. "Anyway they have not succeeded, so you are willing to send in our services."

  "Worldwreckers," said Bruce. It was the first time he had spoken.

  "We prefer to call ourselves a planetary investment corporation," Andrea said smoothly, "although if the undercover branches must be called into use, we cannot operate openly as such. In brief, if a planet refuses exploitation—forgive me, I should have said profitable investment—" but the irony in her expression was apparent, "our agents can give its economy the kind of, shall we say, nudge which will in the long run make it worthwhile for that planet to request outside investors to come in."

  "In short," Stannard said, "you wreck the economy so that the planet in question has no recourse but to turn to the Terran Empire to pick up the pieces?"

  "That's a harsh way of putting it but I suppose true in essence. And the planet in question, I'm told by the investors, usually profits in the long run. I don't ask who it profits. That's not my business."

  "It's ours," Stannard said. "Can it be done with Darkover? And how soon? And how much?"

  Andrea did not answer at once; she was pushing buttons for the desk-top scan reader. She seemed to have found something suddenly that arrested her attention, for the flickers of her eyes—they were odd eyes, Stannard thought, a very pale, pellucid gray, a color he didn't remember seeing before—the swift flickers of a trained scan reader, suddenly slowed down and stopped. She looked, as far as he could tell, both startled and shocked.

  She said abruptly, "Have either of you gentlemen ever been to Darkover?"

  Stannard shook his head. "I never go that far off my orbit."

  "I have," Bruce volunteered unexpectedly. "I went there once for, well, that doesn't matter." He shivered suddenly. "Hell of a place; I've no idea why anyone wants it opened up; they'll have to give extra pay for volunteers. Cold as space and twice as dismal. Completely unspoiled, as tourist books say. It could use a little spoiling."

  "Well, that's what we're here for," said Andrea briskly, turning off the desk-top scanner with a decisive gesture. "Gentlemen, I am prepared to offer terms and guarantees. For the agreed upon sum," she mentioned a sum in milli-credit units, which changed so often it represented a minifortune or a maxifortune that week, "we are prepared
to guarantee that within three Central Record Type Empire Years, the planet now known as Darkover will be open to Type B exploitation—to prepare it for Type A exploitation would take twenty years and would never be profitable—with full permission to begin mining and export operations by a limited group of investors. Half of the sum must be paid now, in legal titanium-based hard currency paid into a numbered account on Helvetia II. The remainder will fall due within one Standard Month of the day that Darkover is declared a Class B Open world."

  Stannard said, "What's your guarantee that our principals will pay the final installment? Not that they've any intention of defaulting, but it takes Empire Senate action to declare a world Open. Once they've made that legal, why can't my principals simply go in, as any other investors would?"

  Andrea smiled, and the smile was so much like a steel trap that Stannard revised his opinion of her age upward by thirty years. "The contract, which you must sign with your principals;' real identities by number, states that upon default your entire interest in the planet in question reverts to Planetary Investments Unlimited—which, as you have pointed out, is known widely as Worldwreckers, Incorporated. Furthermore, default in this arrangement entirely voids the secrecy clause."

  They had thought of everything, Stannard realized. Because worldwrecking arrangements were illegal everywhere, and any planetary investment unit, bent on exploitation, which hired the services of a worldwrecker, was permanently warned off from that planet.

  "We're quite legitimate on the surface," Andrea said grimly. "You have legally hired our services for public relations and propaganda. Most of our agents, the ones everybody sees, will never be within a light-year of Darkover itself. They'll be at Empire Center, attempting by perfectly legal means to persuade the legislators that Darkover should be a Class B Open world. A few more will be doing the same with the Darkovan authorities."