With scarcely a pause he continued: "I have great wealth, my friend, and while your means do not seem to be small, I believe that it would be very convenient to you to have them supplemented. Suppose I gave you say, ten times as many jewels as are in the tray over on that stand?" Shelby looked in the direction the Martian indicated. He saw a flat shallow container of considerable size. At its center squatted a repulsive thing about eight inches high, carved from a clear crystalline substance from which there flashed countless points of icy, wicked fire—a huge diamond!
Heaped around it were hundreds of magnificent red tabalti, most prized of all gems. An expert appraiser had recently told Shelby that in two worlds only thirteen of them were known to exist. And now he was being offered all these stones by one who hinted that he was willing to give him ten times as many—an utterly staggering fortune!
Hekalu's words fairly dumbfounded Shelby, but they grated upon his sense of pride as well. Nevertheless, his face gave no hint of what passed through his mind. An angry reply, he decided, was out of place.
"Naturally, Akar Hekalu, you want something in return for your amazing generosity," he said coolly. "Of course, I could not accept your offer under any other circumstances."
The Martian nodded. "I have it from a reliable source, Mr. Shelby, that you are the inventor of a terrible weapon—an atomic ray which might be dangerous in the hands of unworthy persons. Turn the weapon over to me as well as all information concerning its operation and construction, and promise to say not a word more about the weapon to anyone, and I will give you the jewels at once."
A flash of surprise passed across Shelby's face but he quickly masked it. So this was it! But how was it that the noble had learned of his invention? Could it be that Janice Darell was playing a double hand?—his Jan. He dismissed the idea as preposterous and utterly disloyal.
The Earthman rose to his feet and addressed the Martian coldly. "If I have such a device I believe that I can place it in better hands than yours."
Hekalu Selba's face gave no hint of anger; in fact he seemed at the point of laughing. "You have done as I expected you would. Your refusal shows me how patriotic you are and gratifies me very much, Mr. Shelby," he said blandly. "You are as a man of Earth should be. However, there is another side to the question. I have certain plans and to have you at large might endanger their fulfillment. Therefore I must ask you to accompany me on a little trip. That weapon of yours will be well taken care of. Now, kindly raise your hands high above your head." The Martian was pointing a bejeweled automatic straight at the chest of his visitor. "You are being covered from two other points in this room so try not to cause any misunderstanding," he added.
Shelby saw the wisdom of obeying the order for he felt quite certain that Hekalu Selba and his minions would not hesitate to shoot him down. What a colossal idiot he had been! He had sensed a trap when the noble had called him over the view-phone and yet he had taken no sensible precautions!
Hekki was searching him now. His long fingers were moving deftly from pocket to pocket. They closed upon his automatic and drew it forth. "Ah," the Martian breathed, "it's as I thought. You have brought a souvenir. A most worthy precaution. And, now that you are no longer in a position to cause any trouble," he continued sneeringly, "I may as well tell you about my ambition—Oh, it is simple enough; men have thought of it before but none had the nerve or ability to put it over. Briefly it is this—to become Master of both Earth and Mars! My friends are waiting for me out there beyond the Red Planet—waiting for their commander. And there is another little hope—there is a certain beautiful flower of your race—" Here he stopped to allow his captive to imagine the rest.
A hard light came into Austin Shelby's eyes. It was the only outward indication of the sudden tornado of emotions and thoughts that swirled in his mind. This man sought to enforce his will upon the planets! The question of whether he was capable of realizing this tremendous dream or not, the Earthman did not pause to debate.
Fifty years before, Saranov had attempted it, and as a result a score of great cities became shambles. Certainly the present foe of mankind was more powerful than Saranov. The monstrous associate of Hekalu and the flitting specks of light far beyond Mars seemed to bear out the nobleman's boast. And if he somehow got possession of the Atomic Ray! And Jan—What was he going to do to Jan! Certainly it was she to whom he had referred! It was this last idea which hammered on Shelby's brain hardest of all. A little fiend within him seemed to shriek. "Escape! Send your weapon to the War Office! Kill Selba if you can, for everything is at stake!" Escape, yes, but how?
"Place your wrists together behind your back now," Hekalu was saying. "I have a pair of magnificent manacles—careful. Do not make an abrupt movement."
A crazy idea had come into the Earthman's mind. He did not expect his plan to work but it was all he could do. With an air of one resigned to his fate, he obeyed the order. He felt the Martian fumbling with the manacles. He was evidently using only one hand. The other presumably still held the automatic leveled at Shelby's back. But it was useless to think of such things.
A slim finger touched the young engineer's wrist. He caught it, twisted it back at the same time, then, summoning all the quickness and force he could muster, he ducked low and hurled himself backward straight into the Martian. There was a loud report. A hot pain seared into the fleshy folds beneath Austin's left shoulder blade. Those hidden in the darkness at the farther end of the room did not dare to fire for fear of injuring their master. Now Shelby was grappling with Hekalu. He gripped the hand that held the automatic.
Two more reports—ineffective, and then the two fell clawing and in a heap on the floor. The shaded lamp was upset and its illumination globes were broken. There was darkness. Shelby heard the shuffle of running feet coming across the marble pavement of the chamber. Help for Hekalu! He'd have to hurry. But the Martian noble, racially much frailer than the people of Earth, was no match for the athletic Shelby. In a moment he was pinned, unable to move. The Earthman tore his weapon from him and thrust its muzzle against his recent opponent's chest. Before he fired he saw the Martian's bold smile; whatever failings Hekalu Selba had, cowardice was not among them.
On the heels of the gun's report Shelby darted from the room and down the short hallway which led back to the central light-well of the Selba establishment. If he could only somehow reach his plane! He gripped the doorknob and shoved fiercely, but the stout metal panels were immovable. He might have known that the outer door would be locked! Oh, what an unutterable ass he had been!
Now what? A hoarse cry of triumph caused him to turn. Alka was racing toward him with leveled pistol. A spray of projectiles spread toward Shelby but the slave's aim was bad and none of them took effect. A split second later Alka pitched to the floor with a bullet through his brain.
But there was another to be reckoned with—one who waddled along rapidly on short powerful legs. Its arms were long and black and more powerfully muscled than a gorilla's. One hand brandished a metal knob-stick, and the other, a long-barreled pistol of Martian design. Silvery armor set with jewels that glittered wickedly in the dim light of the hallway crossed the creature's breast. Its head was bulbous, and its face, set deep in plates of shining black chitin-like armor, consisted only of two enormous eyes and a lipless mouth. No nose at all! The horror Shelby had seen on the liner!
The Earthman fired at the monster. The first bullet clinked harmlessly on his opponent's breast-plate. The second thudded full force upon its skull, but apparently the hard smooth skin of the creature was too tough to allow projectiles hurled from a pistol to penetrate it for it did no real damage—only infuriated the monster. Black hard lids dropped protectingly over its eyes, and its mouth worked convulsively. It quickened its pace and brought its own pistol into play.
Shelby had made a hasty survey of the hall and had noted the stairway beside the door he had tried to open. He darted up this, ducking low behind the stone railing to avoid his weird pursuer's bull
ets. Perhaps in the chambers above he could find a means of escape. He was leaving a trail of blood on the marble steps, and his wound pained him terribly. He felt sick and weak.
When he had reached the top of the stairs, the unknown horror was already halfway up. It had returned its pistol to its holster. Apparently it had been so maddened by Shelby's shots, that only tearing its quarry to pieces could satisfy its lust for vengeance. And the thing was gaining rapidly!
But the Earthman gritted his teeth and kept doggedly on. He fought back the nauseous giddiness that was creeping upon him. He'd have to escape. Oh God! There was too much at stake—the world and Jan—what was happening to Jan? True, he had killed Selba, but certainly the Martian had minions—men who could carry on without him. He could scarcely have built up all his plans single-handed!
Four flights of steps Shelby and his pursuer ascended. Was there a way of reaching the roof and the plane in this direction? And if there were, could the Earthman reach it before the long arms of the thing so close behind wrapped themselves about him? Such an event, Shelby knew could not mean anything less than failure, and possibly immediate death. The fiend behind did not cry out or order him to halt. In fact it made no vocal sound at all. Not even its breathing, which should have been heavy and labored, was audible. Only the hurried shuffle of its unshod feet. Its silent relentlessness was nerve-wracking.
The engineer saw before him at the top of the stair a small doorway, and beyond it a spiral runway leading upward. The light grillwork gate stood invitingly open. Catching the grill with one hand as he rushed through the door, Shelby sought to slam it shut and latch it. He almost had succeeded, and then a huge hand closed upon the bars. One jerk, and a quick grab with the other immense paw and the strange flight and pursuit would be at an end.
But the jerk was delayed. Shelby fired his last round. It did the monster little harm, even though the distance between the two was but four feet. Nevertheless it caused the armored horror to leap back a step, and the moment thus provided was sufficient.
As Shelby stumbled up the dark spiral he heard the thing below tearing at the closed grill. He knew that it could not delay the thing for long. He had just reached the trapdoor at the top of the long climb, when a muffled ripping crash echoed up dimly from far beneath him. The gate was down!
Feverishly he struggled with the heavy trap. Normally it would not have been difficult for him to lift the rectangle of aluminum alloy; but wounded as he was, forcing his numbing limbs to obey him required almost super-human effort. When he had at last succeeded in hoisting it on its hinges, he could again hear the soft padding of hurrying feet.
The engineer found himself in a large room, one wall of which was curved, conforming to the outer contour of the cylindrical tower. Scattered illumination globes gave a dim light to the place. The room was evidently a storehouse for Hekalu's laboratory supplies. Complex mechanisms stood about, evidently waiting to be installed. There were hundreds of metal drums presumably containing chemicals. There were bolts of heavy fabric and stacks of ingots neatly corded. Set in the ceiling of the chamber were several circular windows through the heavy glass of which bright stars shone. Directly above was the roof, and but a few paces distant, the landing stage!
Escape seemed tantalizingly near, but with sinking heart, Shelby noted that there was no easy means of ascent to the roof. He'd have to try to smash one of those windows. But the monster hurrying up the spiral claimed his immediate attention.
Deeply thankful for the peculiar eccentricities of Martian architecture, he hurriedly proceeded to pile ingots on the closed trapdoor. Each of these ingots weighed well over a hundred and fifty pounds. Fortunately for the wounded Earthman, the distance he had to carry them was only a few feet.
CHAPTER IV Capture!
He had transferred five to their new position before his pursuer arrived beneath the trap and began to push upward mightily upon it. Shelby transferred several more ingots to the pile just to make sure that the monster could not enter. Then, fighting off the diaphanous veil of unconsciousness that was trying to drop over him, he looked about for something with which to effect his escape.
A long bar of metal caught his eye. He seized it, and with all his strength thrust upward at one of the ceiling windows. But the thick glass, crisscrossed by rods of metal, was not easily shattered.
A rattling noise attracted his attention. He glanced back toward the trap. His pile of ingots was trembling as if shaken by a miniature earthquake. The door was rising upward! It settled back and rose again. An inch crack appeared, and through it Shelby could see two eyes and the muzzle of a pistol. He leaped out of range just in time to avoid the bullet that whizzed across the room and flattened itself against the wall.
He darted around toward the hinged side of the trap, where he knew that the black horror could not fire at him, and devoted his attention to another window. He would have reinforced the barricade with more ingots, but he realized that by spending his nearly exhausted strength that way he would be defeating his own purpose.
A dozen times he jabbed up viciously with the bar before a tiny crack appeared in the round pane of glass. The trapdoor behind him was being shaken violently. An ingot on top of the pile was jarred from its place and crashed to the floor. Yes, the window was giving. A small hole appeared in it.
A pair of shiny black forearms had forced their way from under the edge of the trapdoor. Slowly and mightily the shoulders of the monster surged upward. The door was rising, and this time it did not seem that it would sink back.
Shelby had finished his task. Now, with the upper end of the bar thrust through the opening he had made in the window, and the lower end resting in a slight depression in the floor, he proceeded to climb it to safety. His head and shoulders were through the hole when the monster at last burst its way into the room below. But the thing was just an instant too late to hinder him.
Sweating and bloody, Shelby drew himself to the roof and staggered over to the landing stage. Yes, his plane was there.
The night air, and the flush of success was refreshing him. His exaltation leaped higher and higher as his plane swept him up from the summit of the tower of the mysterious Selba.
A wild refrain was drumming in his mind: "Hekalu Selba is dead! I have killed him!" There was nothing more to do but notify the Municipal Air Patrol—an S. O. S. with his siren would accomplish that. They would raid the tower. If any of the Martian's fellow plotters sought to continue with the project the Earthman's new weapon would take care of them.
Shelby was reaching for the siren button, and then a terrific explosion thundered up from somewhere below, and several hundred yards to his right. He saw the orange flash, and then, in an instant the whole city went dark. Another crash came and another. Shelby saw a dark form glide through the air. From far beneath him he heard a troubled murmur mixed with the din of colliding vehicles. Sirens shrieked. In the distance to his right, a great plume of lurid flame blossomed in the sky.
The low purr of a machine gun sounded behind him, and he heard the almost inaudible tick-tick of poisoned needle-darts piercing the fuselage of his craft.
He zoomed sharply upward for a thousand feet, and then glanced back. There was a dim shadow out there—he was being followed. But this discovery, and the realization that the city was attacked made but a vague impression upon his fast-dimming mind. The warm fluid that oozed from his shoulder, making his clothing sodden and sticky, had all but drained his vital energy.
Somehow he began to doubt that he had killed Selba. It had been only a dream, and the monstrous thing that had sought his life had been a dream too. Hekalu was pursuing him now, trying to kill him! The idea took hold, for he could no longer distinguish fancy from reality. It brought to him a vague fear which would have been completely out of place with him had he not been so near gone from loss of blood. It was like a child's fear of the dark.
He began to fly towards home in a wild zigzag course like a dazed bat, but this favored him, for
it enabled him to avoid the darts from the pursuing plane. Luckily he remembered that while under fire combat fliers do not make use of their automatic pilots except as a last resort, for these devices cannot direct the complex movements necessary in dodging enemy bullets. Automatically Shelby watched the guiding instruments and followed their directions.
Several times he signaled with his siren, but no one answered him. Thousands of sirens were hooting, and the Air Patrol was very busy. The darkness, the explosions and the muffled roar from the streets continued.
Two ideas now possessed Shelby's mind and he clung to them with the grim persistence of a wounded tiger. One was to get home, secure his weapon and rush it to the federal authorities. The other was to hurry to Janice Darell.
Presently his plane bounded down awkwardly on the landing platform of the building in which his apartment was located. He stumbled out, and down the dark stair. The elevators were not working. Somehow he found his door and unlocked it. He groped toward the wall safe. It was open, and the little black case which contained the unfinished atomic ray projector was gone. A neat round hole had been drilled in the metal door of the safe.
The view-phone bell was ringing. Shelby stumbled to the instrument and moved its switches. The view-plate did not work but he heard a faint voice which he recognized as Jan's. "Is that you, Austin?" it said. "Can't you help me? Something is out there. It has me cornered in my room. It has killed old Rufus. The house police—" There the connection snapped.
A wild surge of anger quickened the engineer's weakly beating heart. He tried to reach the door, and then he felt a stinging sensation in the back of his neck. A needle-dart charged with a sleep-producing drug had struck him. He slumped to the floor.
A moment later a thing of metal and fabric, fitted with drills and delicate thread-like tentacles, and formed like a giant Sadu moth of Mars, darted out from behind a curtain where it had been hiding. It flew up through the air-tube which had been its means of entrance to the room. On the roof it met a black nightmare, and by means of signs traced in the air with an intelligence that was paradoxically human, it directed the monster to Shelby's apartment below.
Godson of Almarlu: A Collection of Science Fiction Novellas Page 3