Triplanetary
E >>
Edward Elmer Smith >> Triplanetary
Pages:
1 | 2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14
He broke off as the girl came back, now to all appearances a small
Triplanetary officer, and the three settled down to a long and eventless
wait. Hour after hour they flew through the ether, but finally there was
a lurching swing and an abrupt increase in their acceleration. After a
short consultation Captain Bradley turned on the visiray set and, with
the beam at its minimum power, peered cautiously downward, in the
direction opposite to that in which he knew the pirate vessel must be.
All three stared into the plate, seeing only an infinity of emptiness,
marked only by the infinitely remote and coldly brilliant stars. While
they stared into space a vast area of the heavens was blotted out and
they saw, faintly illuminated by a peculiar blue luminescence, a vast
ball--a sphere so large and so close that they seemed to be dropping
downward toward it as though it were a world! They came to a
stop--paused, weightless--a vast door slid smoothly aside--they were
drawn _upward_ through an airlock and floated quietly in the air above a
small, but brightly-lighted and orderly city of metallic buildings!
Gently the _Hyperion_ was lowered, to come to rest in the embracing arms
of a regulation landing cradle.
"Well, wherever it is, we're here," remarked Captain Bradley, grimly.
"And now the fireworks start," assented Costigan, with a questioning
glance at the girl.
"Don't mind me," she answered his unspoken question. "I don't believe in
surrendering, either."
"Right," and both men squatted down behind the ether-walls of their
terrific weapons; the girl prone behind them.
They had not long to wait. A group of human beings--men and to all
appearance Americans--appeared unarmed in the little lounge. As soon as
they were well inside the room, Bradley and Costigan released upon them
without compunction the full power of their frightful projectors. From
the reflectors, through the doorway, there tore a concentrated double
beam of pure destruction--but that beam did not reach its goal. Yards
from the men it met a screen of impenetrable density. Instantly the
gunners pressed their triggers and a stream of high-explosive shells
issued from the roaring weapons. But shells, also, were futile. They
struck the shield and vanished--vanished without exploding and without
leaving a trace to show that they had ever existed.
Costigan sprang to his feet, but before he could launch his intended
attack a vast tunnel appeared beside him--an annihilating ray had swept
through the entire width of the liner, cutting instantly a smooth
cylinder of emptiness. Air rushed in to fill the vacuum, and the three
visitors felt themselves seized by invisible forces and drawn into the
tunnel. Through it they floated, up to and over the buildings, finally
slanting downward toward the door of a great high-powered structure.
Doors opened before them and closed behind them, until at last they
stood upright in a room which was evidently the office of a busy
executive. They faced a desk which, in addition to the usual equipment
of the business man, carried a bewilderingly complete switchboard and
instrument panel.
Seated impassively at the desk there was a gray man. Not only was he
dressed entirely in gray, but his heavy hair was gray, his eyes were
gray, and even his tanned skin seemed to give the impression of grayness
in disguise. His overwhelming personality radiated an aura of
grayness--not the gentle gray of the dove, but the resistless, driving
gray of the super-dreadnaught; the hard, inflexible, brittle gray of the
fracture of high-carbon steel.
"Captain Bradley, First Officer Costigan, Miss Marsden," the man spoke
quietly, but crisply. "I had not intended you two men to live so long.
That is a detail, however, which we will pass by for the moment. You may
remove your suits."
Neither officer moved, but both stared back at the speaker
unflinchingly.
"I am not accustomed to repeating instructions," the man at the desk
continued; voice still low and level, but instinct with deadly menace.
"You may choose between removing those suits and dying in them, here and
now."
Costigan moved over to Clio and slowly took off her armor. Then, after a
flashing exchange of glances and a muttered word, the two officers threw
off their suits simultaneously and fired at the same instant; Bradley
with his Lewiston, Costigan with a heavy automatic pistol whose bullets
were explosive shells of tremendous power. But the man in gray,
surrounded by an impenetrable wall of force, only smiled at the
fusillade, tolerantly and maddeningly. Costigan leaped fiercely, only to
be hurled backward as he struck that unyielding, invisible wall. A
vicious beam snapped him back into place, the weapons were snatched
away, and all three captives were held in their former positions.
"I permitted that, as a demonstration of futility," the gray man said,
his hard voice becoming harder, "but I will permit no more foolishness.
Now I will introduce myself. I am known as Roger. You probably have
heard nothing of me yet but you will--if you live. Whether or not you
two live depends solely upon yourselves. Being something of a student of
men, I fear that you will both die shortly. Able and resourceful as you
have just shown yourselves to be, you could be valuable to me, but you
probably will not--in which case you shall, of course, cease to exist.
That, however, in its proper time--you shall be of some slight service
to me in the process of being eliminated. In your case, Miss Marsden, I
find myself undecided between two courses of action; each highly
desirable, but unfortunately mutually exclusive. Your father will be
glad to ransom you at an exceedingly high figure, but, in spite of that
fact, I may decide to keep you for--well, let us say for certain
purposes."
"Yes?" Clio rose magnificently to the occasion. Fear forgotten, her
courageous spirit flashed from her clear, young eyes and emanated from
her slender, rounded young body, erect in defiance. "Since I am a
captive, you can of course do anything you please with me up to a
certain point--but no further, believe me!"
With no sign of having heard her outburst Roger pressed a button and a
tall, comely woman, appeared--a woman of indefinite age and of uncertain
nationality.
"Show Miss Marsden to her apartment," he directed, and as the two women
went out a man came in.
"The cargo is unloaded, sir," the newcomer reported. "The two men and
the five women indicated have been taken to the hospital," was the
report of the man.
"Very well, dispose of the others in the usual fashion." The minion went
out, and Roger continued, emotionlessly:
"Collectively, the other passengers may be worth a million or so, but it
would not be worth while to waste time upon them."
"What are you, anyway?" blazed Costigan, helpless but enraged beyond
caution. "I have heard of mad scientists who tried to destroy the earth,
and of equally mad geniuses who thought themselves Napoleons capable of
conquering even the Solar System. Whichever you are, you should know
that you can't get away with it."
"I am neither. I am, however, a scientist, and I direct many other
scientists. I am not mad. You have undoubtedly noticed several peculiar
features of this place?"
"Yes, particularly the artificial gravity, which has always been
considered impossible, and those screens. An ordinary ether-wall is
opaque in one direction, and doesn't bar matter--yours are transparent
both ways and something more than impenetrable to matter. How do you do
it?"
"You could not understand them if I explained them to you, and they are
merely two of our smaller developments. I have no serious designs upon
the earth nor upon the Solar System, nor have I any desire to rule over,
or to control the destinies of masses of futile and brainless men. I
have, however, certain ends of my own in view. To accomplish my plans I
require hundreds of millions in gold, other hundreds of millions in
platinum and noble metal, and some five kilograms of the bromide of
radium--all of which I shall take from the planets of this Solar System
before I leave it. I shall take them in spite of the puerile efforts of
the fleets of your Triplanetary League.
"This structure, floating in a planetary orbit, was designed by me and
built under my direction. It is protected from meteorites by certain
forces of my devising. It is undetectable and invisible--your detectors
do not touch it and light-waves are bent around it without loss or
distortion. I am discussing these points at such length so that you may
realize exactly your position. As I have intimated, you can be of
assistance to me if you will."
"Now just what could you offer any _man_ to make him join your outfit?"
demanded Costigan, venomously.
"Many things." Roger's cold tone betrayed no emotion, no recognition of
Costigan's open and bitter contempt. "I have under me many men, bound to
me by many ties. Needs, wants, longings and desires differ from man to
man, and I can satisfy practically any of them. Personally, I take
delight in the society of young and beautiful women, and many men have
that same taste; but there are other urges which I have found quite
efficient. Greed, thirst for fame, longing for power, and so on,
including many qualities usually regarded as 'noble.' And what I
promise, I deliver. I demand only loyalty to me, and that only in
certain things and for a relatively short period. In all else, my men do
as they please. In conclusion, I can use you two conveniently, but I do
not need you. Therefore you may choose now between my service and--the
alternative."
"Exactly what is the alternative?"
"We will not go into that. Suffice it to say that it has to do with a
minor research, which is not progressing satisfactorily. It will result
in your extinction, and perhaps I should mention that that extinction
will not be particularly pleasant."
"I say NO, you...." Bradley roared. He intended to give an unexpurgated
classification, but was rudely interrupted.
"Hold on a minute!" snapped Costigan. "How about Miss Marsden?"
"She has nothing to do with this discussion," returned Roger, icily. "I
do not bargain--in fact, I believe that I shall keep her for a time. She
has it in mind to destroy herself, if I do not allow her to be ransomed,
but she will find that door closed to her until I permit it to open."
"In that case, I string along with the Chief--take what he started to
say about you and run it clear across the board for me!" barked
Costigan.
"Very well. That decision was to be expected from men of your type." The
gray man touched two buttons and two of his creatures entered the room.
"Put these men into separate cells on the second level," he ordered.
"Search them to the skin: all their weapons may not have been in their
armor. Seal the doors and mount special guards, tuned to me here."
Imprisoned they were, and carefully searched; but they bore no arms, and
nothing had been said or thought of communicators. Even if such
instruments could be concealed, Roger would detect their use instantly.
At least, so would have run his thought had the subject entered his
mind. But even Roger had no inkling of the possibility of Costigan's
"Service Special" phones, detectors and spy-ray--instruments of minute
size and of infinitesimal power, but yet instruments which, working as
they were, below the level of the ether, were effective at great
distances and caused no vibrations in the ether by which their use could
be detected. And what could be more innocent than the regulation,
personal equipment of every officer of space? The heavy goggles, the
wrist-watch and its supplementary pocket chronometer, the flash-lamp,
the automatic lighter, the sender, the money-belt?
All these items of equipment were examined with due care; but the
cleverest minds of Triplanetary's Secret Service had designated those
communicators to pass any ordinary search, however careful, and when
Costigan and Bradley were finally locked into the designated cells, they
still possessed their ultra-instruments.
CHAPTER II
In Roger's Planetoid
In the hall Clio glanced around her wildly, her bosom heaving, eyes
darting here and there, seeking even the narrowest avenue of escape.
Before she could act, however, her body was clamped inflexibly, as
though in a vise, and she struggled, motionless.
"It is useless to attempt to escape, or to do anything except what Roger
wishes," the guide informed her somberly, snapping off the instrument in
her hand and thus restoring to the thoroughly cowed girl her freedom of
motion.
"His lightest wish is law," she continued as they walked down a long
corridor. "The sooner you realize that you must do exactly as he
pleases, in all things, the easier your life will be."
"But I wouldn't _want_ to keep on living!" Clio declared, with a flash
of spirit. "And I can _always_ die, you know."
"You will find that you cannot," the passionless creature returned,
monotonously. "If you do not yield, you will long and pray for death,
but you will not die unless Roger wills it. I was like you once. I also
struggled, and I became what I am now--whatever it is. Here is your
apartment. You will stay here until Roger gives further orders
concerning you."
The living automaton opened a door and stood silent and impassive, while
Clio, staring at her in unutterable horror, shrank past her and into the
sumptuously furnished suite. The door closed soundlessly and utter
silence descended as a pall. Not an ordinary silence, but the
indescribable perfection of the absolute, complete absence of all sound.
In that silence Clio stood motionless. Tense and rigid, hopeless,
despairing, she stood there in that magnificent room, fighting an almost
overwhelming impulse to scream. Suddenly she heard the cold voice of
Roger, speaking from the empty air.
"You are over-wrought, Miss Marsden. You can be of no use to yourself or
to me in that condition. I command you to rest; and, to insure that
rest, you may pull that cord, which will establish about this room an
ether wall: a wall cutting off even this my voice...."
The voice ceased as she pulled the cord savagely and threw herself upon
a divan in a torrent of gasping, strangling, but rebellious sobs. Then
again came a voice, but not to her ears. Deep within her, pervading
every bone and muscle, it made itself felt rather than heard.
"Clio?" it asked. "Don't talk yet...."
"Conway!" she gasped in relief, every fiber of her being thrilled into
new hope at the deep, well-remembered voice of Conway Costigan.
"Keep still!" he snapped. "Don't act so happy! He may have a spy-ray on
you. He can't hear me, but he may be able to hear you. When he was
talking to you you must have noticed a sort of rough, sandpapery feeling
under that necklace I gave you? Since he's got an ether-wall around you
the beads are dead now. If you feel anything like that under the
wrist-watch, breathe deeply, twice. If you don't feel anything there,
it's safe for you to talk, as loud as you please.
"I don't feel a thing, Conway!" she rejoiced. Tears forgotten, she was
her old, buoyant self again. "So that wall _is_ real, after all? I only
about half believed it."
"Don't trust it too much, because he can cut it off from the outside any
time he wants to. Remember what I told you: that necklace will warn you
of any spy-ray in the ether, and the watch will detect anything below
the level of the ether. It's dead now, of course, since our three phones
are direct-connected; I'm in touch with Bradley, too. Don't be too
scared; we've got a lot better chance that I thought we had."
"What? You don't mean it!"
"Absolutely. I'm beginning to think that maybe we've got something he
doesn't know exists--our ultra-wave. Of course I wasn't surprised when
his searchers failed to find our instruments, but it never occurred to
me that I might have a clear field to use them in! I can't quite believe
it yet, but I haven't been able to find any indication that he can even
detect the bands we are using. I'm going to look around over there with
my spy-ray ... I'm looking at you now--feel it?"
"Yes, the watch feels that way, now."
"Fine! Not a sign of interference over here, either. I can't find a
trace of ultra-wave--anything below ether-level, you know--anywhere in
the whole place. He's got so much stuff that we've never heard of that I
supposed of course he'd have ultra-wave, too; but if he hasn't, that
gives us the edge. Well, Bradley and I've got a lot of work to do....
Wait a minute, I just had a thought. I'll be back in about a second."
There was a brief pause, then the soundless, but clear voice went on:
"Good hunting! That woman that gave you the blue willies isn't
alive--she's full of the prettiest machinery and communicators you ever
saw!"
"Oh, Conway!" and the girl's voice broke in an engulfing wave of
thanksgiving and relief. "It was so unutterably horrible, thinking of
what must have happened to her and to others like her!"
"He's running a colossal bluff, I think. He's good, all right, but he
lacks quite a lot of being omnipotent. But don't get too cocky, either.
Plenty has happened to plenty of women here, and men too--and plenty may
happen to us unless we put out a few jets. Keep a stiff upper lip, and
if you want us, yell. 'Bye!"
The silent voice ceased, the watch upon Clio's wrist again became an
unobtrusive timepiece, and Costigan, in his solitary cell far below her
tower room, turned his peculiarly goggled eyes toward other scenes. In
his pockets his hands manipulated tiny controls, and through the lenses
of those goggles Costigan's keen and highly-trained eyes studied every
concealed detail of mechanism of the great globe, the while he planned
what must be done. Finally, he took off the goggles and spoke in a low
voice to Bradley, confined in another windowless room across the hall.
"I think I've got dope enough, Captain. I've found out where he put our
armor and guns, and I've located all the main leads, controls, and
generators. There are no ether-walls around us here, but every door is
shielded, and there are guards outside our doors--one to each of us.
They're robots, not men. That makes it harder, since they're undoubtedly
connected direct to Roger's desk, and will give an alarm at the first
hint of abnormal performance. We can't do a thing until he leaves his
desk. See that black panel, a little below the cord-switch to the right
of your door? That's the conduit cover. When I give you the word, tear
that off and you'll see one red wire in the cable. It feeds the
shield-generator of your door. Break that wire and join me out in the
hall. Sorry I had only one of these ultra-wave spies, but once we're
together it won't be so bad. Here's what I thought we could do," and he
went over in detail the only course of action which his surveys had
shown to be possible.
"There, he's left his desk!" Costigan exclaimed after the conversation
had continued for almost an hour. "Now as soon as we find out where he's
going, we'll start something ... he's going to see Clio, the swine! This
changes things, Bradley!" His hard voice was a curse.
"Somewhat!" blazed the captain. "I know how you two have been getting on
all during the cruise. I'm with you, but what can we do?"
"We'll do something," Costigan declared grimly. "If he makes a pass at
her I'll get him if I have to blow this whole sphere out of space, with
us in it!"
"Don't do that, Conway." Clio's low voice, trembling but determined, was
felt by both men and both gasped audibly: they had forgotten that there
were three instruments in the circuit. "If there's a chance for you to
get away and do anything about fighting him, don't mind me. Maybe he
only wants to talk about the ransom, anyway."
"He wouldn't talk ransom to _you_--he's going to talk something else
entirely," Costigan gritted; then his voice changed suddenly. "But say,
maybe it's just as well this way. They didn't find our specials when
they searched us, you know, and we're going to do plenty of damage right
soon now. Roger probably isn't a fast worker--more the cat-and-mouse
type, I'd say--and after we get started he'll have something on his mind
besides you. Think you can stall him off and keep him interested for
about fifteen minutes?"
"I'm sure I can--I'll do _anything_ to help us, or you, get away from
this horrible...." Her voice ceased as Roger broke the ether-wall of her
apartment and walked toward the divan upon which she crouched in
wide-eyed, helpless, trembling terror.
"Get ready, Bradley!" Costigan directed tersely. "He's left Clio's
ether-wall off, so that any abnormal signals would be relayed to him
from his desk--he knows that there's no chance of anyone disturbing him
in _that_ room. But I'm holding my beam on that switch--it's as good a
conductor as metal--so that the wall is on, full strength. No matter
what we do now, he can't get a warning. I'll have to hold the beam
exactly on the switch, though, so you'll have to do the dirty work. Tear
out that red wire and kill those two guards. You know how to kill a
robot, don't you?"
"Yes--break his eye-lenses and his eardrums and he'll stop whatever he's
doing and send out distress calls.... Got 'em both. Now what?"
"Open my door--the shield switch is to the right."
Costigan's door flew open and the Triplanetary captain leaped into the
room.
"Now for our armor!" he cried.
"Not yet!" snapped Costigan. He was standing rigid, goggled eyes staring
immovably at a spot upon the ceiling. "I can't move a millimeter until
you've closed Clio's ether-wall switch. If I take this ray off it for a
second we're sunk. Five floors up, straight ahead down a
corridor--fourth door on right. When you're at the switch you'll feel my
ray on your watch. Snap it up!"
"Right!" and the captain leaped away at a pace to be equaled by few men
of half his years.
Soon he was back, and after Costigan had tested the ether-wall of the
"bridal suite" to make sure that no warning signal from his desk or his
servants could reach Roger within it, the two officers hurried away
toward the room in which their discarded space-armor had been stored.
"Too bad they don't wear uniforms," panted Bradley, short of breath from
the many flights of stairs. "Might have helped some as disguise."
"I doubt it--with so many robots around, they've probably got signals
that we couldn't understand, anyway. If we meet anybody it'll mean a
battle. Hold it!" Peering through walls with his spy-ray, Costigan had
seen two men approaching, blocking an intersecting corridor into which
they must turn. "Two of 'em, a man and a robot--the robot's on your
side. We'll wait here, right at the corner--when they round it, take
'em!" And Costigan put away his goggles in readiness for strife.
All unsuspecting, the two pirates came into view, and as they appeared
the two officers struck. Costigan, on the inside, drove a short, hard
right low into the human pirate's abdomen. The fiercely driven fist sank
to the wrist into the soft tissues and the stricken man collapsed. But
even as the blow landed, Costigan had seen that there was a third enemy,
following close behind the two he had been watching, a pirate who was
even then training a ray projector upon him. Reacting automatically,
Costigan swung his unconscious opponent around in front of him, so that
it was into that insensible body that the vicious ray tore, and not into
his own. Crouching down into the smallest possible compass, he
straightened his powerful body with the lashing force of a mighty steel
spring, hurling the corpse straight at the flaming mouth of the
projector. The weapon crashed to the floor and dead pirate and living
went down in a heap. Upon that heap Costigan hurled himself, feeling for
the enemy's throat. But the pirate had wriggled clear, and countered
with a gouging thrust that would have torn out the eyes of a slower man,
following it up instantly with a savage kick for the groin. No automaton
this, geared and set to perform certain fixed duties with mechanical
precision, but a lithe, strong man in hard training, fighting with every
foul trick known to his murderous ilk.
But Costigan was no tyro in the art of dirty fighting. Few indeed are
the maiming tricks of foul combat unknown to even the rank and file of
the highly efficient Secret Service of the Triplanetary League; and
Costigan, a Sector Chief of that unknown organization, knew them all.
Not for pleasure, sportsmanship, nor million-dollar purses do those
secret agents use Nature's weapons. They come to grips only when it
cannot possibly be avoided, but when they are forced to fight in that
fashion they go into it with but one grim purpose--to kill, and to kill
in the shortest possible space of time. Thus it was that Costigan's
opening soon came. The pirate launched a particularly vicious kick, the
dreaded "coup de sabot," which Costigan avoided by a lightning shift. It
was a slight shift, barely enough to make the kicker miss, and two
powerful hands closed upon that flying foot in midair like the sprung
jaws of a bear-trap. Closed and twisted viciously, in the same fleeting
instant. There was a shriek, smothered as a heavy boot crashed to its
carefully pre-determined mark: the pirate was out, definitely and
permanently.
Pages:
1 | 2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14