Captain Future 12 - Planets in Peril (Fall 1942)

by Edmond Hamilton

  "All right, it's too dangerous, so we won't try it," Curt replied with deceptive readiness. "We'll go back home and let Vostol conclude the treaty. That will be the end of the Tarast race, but it'll be the safest course for ourselves."

  That crushing rejoinder impelled the three protesting Tarasts to silence. At last Gerdek spoke.

  "You are right," he told Curt. "We must make the attempt, no matter how suicidal it may be. We'll go with you."

  "Oh-oh, I saw it coming," muttered Otho. "Grag, do you feel like taking a little stroll into Thool?"

  "We're not going to 'stroll' in there like idiots," Curt said sharply. "We wouldn't last a minute if we did. I've an idea that might have some possibilities."

  He shot a question at Lacq.

  "That biggest square black building we glimpsed in the city — is that the palace of the rulers?"

  LACQ nodded.

  "That's the palace of Mwwr. I've heard the Cold Ones discuss it more than once. It's a great, guarded citadel."

  "It would be," Captain Future admitted. "Still, that's where Zuur's secret records would be kept. We have to get into the city and into that citadel without being seen."

  "A mere nothing, Chief," Otho assured him. "I'll do it with my magic wand, in a flash."

  "Shut up," Curt told him. "And listen: That citadel stands on the edge of the ancient river bed that runs through the city. The river bed is filled with deep snow, like this gorge of which it's a continuation.

  "The snow in it should be almost everywhere over our heads. So I propose that we go down this gorge of the ancient river and right into the city, by walking under the surface of the snow."

  "Say, that is an idea," Otho admitted. "But supposing we get into the city that way, what then?"

  "We'll take tools to dig our way into the citadel of Mwwr through the foundation walls, beneath the snow," Curt answered. "Once inside the citadel walls, we must somehow search out the secret records."

  "I feel that 'somehow' covers a lot of grief for poor old Grag," rumbled the robot forebodingly.

  Lacq and Gerdek were enthusiastic. The revulsion from absolute despair to new hope had sent their confidence soaring.

  "It's a precarious scheme of action," the Brain commented dourly to Captain Future. "What about the Comet?

  "You'll have to stay to guard it, Simon. You couldn't make much progress under the snow, anyway. Shiri will stay with you. I want you to sink the ship in deep snow, so passing Cold One ships won't sight it down here."

  The Brain objected acidly to remaining behind, and Shiri was even more strenuous in her resistance. But Curt's firmness prevailed.

  Otho and Grag had already taken from the Comet the compact atomic tools which Curt judged necessary for their scheme. Now, after a word of farewell, the party started southward through the snow.

  The snow everywhere in the gorge was up to Curt's neck, and in long stretches it was completely over his head. And there was nothing soft or yielding about this snow, which was partly composed of crystals of frozen air.

  "You lead the way, Grag," Captain Future ordered. "You're the only one with strength enough to break trail for the rest."

  "Yes, Grag, put that strong back of yours to work for a change," flipped Otho. "I might even let you carry me when I get tired."

  Grag ignored the remark as he started breaking the way. His mighty metal body plowed through the deep white drifts, step after step, like a tireless machine. The four others, in their space-suits, followed.

  The snow was soon over even Grag's head, for the ancient river bed became deeper as they moved southward. They now marched weirdly beneath the surface of the white expanse. There was nothing for Captain Future to see except the blank whiteness around and above them, and the broad metal back of Grag ahead.

  They were, Curt knew, quite invisible now to any space-sleds that might cross the sky overhead. Hour after hour, they tramped on through the tunnel forced by the robot leader. Curt's compass guided them, and in any case there was no danger of their losing the way, for the river bed ran right to the distant city.

  "This is tough going, Chief," complained Otho when they stopped for the fourth time to rest.

  "You think it's tough going?" said Grag wrathfully. "How would you like to lead the way for a while?"

  "I think we must be near the city by now," Captain Future cut in thoughtfully. "Grag, lift me up so my head is out of the snow and I'll see."

  Grag obeyed, lifting Curt to stand on his metal shoulders. Curt's helmet protruded from the surface of the snow. Instantly he drew his head back down in a sharp recoil. And he muttered a swift warning to the others.

  "We're already inside the city!"

  Curt raised his head more carefully until his eyes were above the white surface. He looked around with mixed interest and trepidation. They were well within the city of Thool, all right. Its black, square structures loomed on both sides of the deep river bed in whose snow Captain Future and his comrades were concealed.

  The alien metropolis was weird in the eternal dusk. The lights that shone in its streets only accentuated the starless gloom. Space-sleds were taking off from a big spaceport nearby. And Curt Newton could descry numbers of the hideous osseous inhabitants as they came and went across black bridges that spanned this deep river of snow.

  A HALF mile southward through the city loomed the citadel of the Cold One kings, a titanic black bulk dominating Thool like a thundercloud. Captain Future keenly estimated its distance before lowering himself back down into the snow.

  "We're almost to the place," he told them. "Move more slowly now, Grag. We mustn't make any disturbance on the surface that would give away our presence."

  They were all strung up with suspense as they followed Grag onward beneath the white blanket. At Curt's direction, the robot veered to the eastern side of the river bed. The palace was on that side.

  Curt estimated that they had reached the citadel.

  Some minutes later, he advanced gently through the snow, until he was stopped by a solid rock wall. But this was not the rough natural rock side of the bed. This wall was of seamless synthetic black stone.

  "The foundation wall of the citadel!" he muttered. "Unlimber those tools, Otho. Here's where we get to work."

  Curt cleared out a small cavity in the snow to give them room for labor. In this little burrow in the deep snow, entirely unsuspected by the hordes of Cold Ones so close by, the five comrades began work.

  Using the smothered flash, of a hand-torch for illumination, Curt Newton attacked the wall with the flame of a compact atomic blaster. The dazzling little white flame cut easily into the black synthestone. Curt's purpose was to cut out a four-foot circle.

  "Once through this wall, and we should find ourselves in the lowest levels beneath the palace," he said as he worked. "There shouldn't be many Cold Ones about down there. We'll have to take the chance."

  "Maybe their dungeons are down there," Grag grunted pessimistically. "For all we know, we're just breaking into jail."

  Then —

  "We're through!" Curt exclaimed a moment later. "The wall wasn't nearly as thick as I expected."

  He had cut a round hole completely out of the synthestone wall, which appeared to be only moderate in thickness. With his hand-torch in one hand and his proton pistol in the other, Captain Future tautly scrambled through the opening.

  He flashed the torch's little beam around, ready for instant action in case they had run into a nest of Cold Ones. But there was nothing to be seen except another stone wall that exactly paralleled the outer one. There was a space of three feet between the two walls, and Curt was standing in that dark space.

  "I get it now!” he said. "This explains why the wall wasn't so thick — it was only the outer half of a double wall! They used this construction to combine structural strength with economy of materials."

  "So now we have to cut through another wall," grunted Grag.

  "No, we're not going to cut through the inner wall yet,"
Curt said excitedly. "We'll stay inside the wall and explore as much as possible of the citadel, without detection. Bring the tools, Otho."

  They were soon all inside the double wall of the great building. Curt and his little band started exploringly along the narrow space.

  Gerdek's whisper was heavy with dread.

  "Is there really any chance that we can locate the secret records this way? I feel somehow that we are being drawn deeper into a horrible trap."

  Captain Future himself could not help feeling that oppressive emotion, as he led the way in indomitable search through the secret ways of this massive fortress, unquestionably the most dreaded spot of a universe.

  Chapter 17: In the Citadel

  CURT turned presently and spoke to Otho. He had to press close to the android to be heard, for they had cautiously turned down the range of the interphones embodied in their space-suits.

  "Hand me that drill, Otho. I'm going to see what's inside the wall here."

  He took the slender atomic drill and applied it to the inner wall. It began biting into the black synthestone.

  "Probably there's a Cold One sitting right on the other side of that wall," Grag predicted pessimistically.

  The long, thin drill had soon penetrated completely through the inner wall, which was of less thickness than the outer. Captain Future withdrew the drill and peered through the small aperture.

  He saw nothing but a black space. Venturing to flash a tiny beam from his torch through the hole, he descried a musty storeroom.

  "What do you see, Kaffr?" asked Lacq tensely.

  "Nothing worth investigating," Curt replied. "We're too deep down in the citadel. Everything important would be in the upper levels."

  "We could climb by means of those trusses between the walls," Otho proposed.

  The inner and outer walls, for greater structural strength, were joined at regular intervals by integral trusses of synthestone. Though several feet apart, they formed a possible ladder up inside the walls.

  "Come on — we're going up," Curt declared.

  He slung the drill over his back by a strap and proceeded to climb up onto the trusses.

  Grag muttered his dislike of the whole proceeding as they clambered up after him. Captain Future's hand torch lit the way. They went upward between the walls, cramped by the narrow space, until Curt judged they were level with the main ground floor of the great palace.

  He proceeded to bore another hole through the inner wall. When he withdrew the atomic drill, a ray of white light came through the aperture.

  "Quiet, all — there's a lighted room on the other side of this section," Captain Future cautioned.

  He applied his eye to the,opening. The others saw his space-suited figure stiffen as he looked.

  Curt was peering through the little loophole into a startling scene whose meaning and importance he instantly recognized.

  "The throne room or audience chamber of the Cold Ones is on the other side of this wall!" he whispered. "For God's sake, don't move —"

  He was looking into an oblong hall of great size. It was lighted by flaring radioactive bulbs, but its somber black walls rose into the shadows. In this hall stood scores of the hideous Cold Ones. The osseous white semi-human creatures were ranged in formal rows, like a nightmare assemblage of ghastly skeletal apparitions.

  These creatures were facing a dais at the far end of the hall. Upon that dais in a black stone throne sat a Cold One. The mutant-man's bony body was incongruously hung with jeweled ornaments. Around his fleshless neck he wore a wonderful collar of blazing white gems. His skull-like face and unwinking eyes seemed to be staring straight at Curt Newton. The creature on the throne, Curt knew, could only be the ruler Mwwr.

  The Cold One ruler was actually staring at a space-suited man who stood before his throne. That man's pale hair and strong, firm face were recognizable through his glassite helmet. It was Vostol.

  "Kaffr, what's going on?" Lacq was asking in an urgent whisper.

  "Vostol is apparently conferring with the Cold One king about the treaty," muttered Curt.

  No one in that dusky throne room was speaking, he saw. The conference in there was being conducted in an uncanny silence.

  For the Cold Ones could not speak. They used telepathic conversation exclusively. Captain Future had not a doubt that it was telepathically that Vostol and the hideous Mwwr were now conferring.

  AS CURT watched tensely, Mwwr rose to his feet. The Cold One ruler and Vostol advanced to a table near the throne.

  Mwwr gestured with his fleshless arm toward a document of metal-foil sheets upon the table.

  "Good heavens, Vostol is going to sign the treaty now!" Captain Future exclaimed.

  "We've got to stop him from doing that!" Gerdek whispered agonizedly. "You know what it means!"

  Curt did know with dreadful clarity what the signing of the treaty would mean. Vostol would return at once to distant Bebemos. By the terms of the treaty, the Tarast people would be obligated immediately to submit themselves to the sterilization which would seal the doom of their race.

  He must stop this somehow, Captain Future knew. Desperate, he raised his proton pistol. If he killed Mwwr, it would at least delay the conclusion of the treaty. But it would mean that the five adventurers would soon be captured. Then all hope of securing the lost secret of Zuur would be gone.

  Curt had a better idea. He turned up the power of his space-suit interphone, so that it would transmit to a greater distance than the few feet to which he had restricted it. And he spoke in a sharp whisper.

  "Vostol!" he whispered urgently. "Vostol, can you hear me?"

  He saw Vostol turn startledly in the great hall. His voice was now reaching the Tarast envoy, whose own space-suit had the universal interphone.

  "You must not sign that treaty, Vostol!" Captain Future was saying tautly. "Help is at hand — there is a chance that we can save the future of the Tarast race. You must delay, stall for time —"

  "Chief, won't the Cold Ones in there hear you?" Grag muttered in alarm.

  "How can they, when none of them has helmets or interphones or even ears to hear with?" said Otho excitedly.

  There came to them upon the interphone a hoarse, startled whisper from Vostol.

  "Who is speaking to me?"

  "We're friends — right here in the citadel wall," Captain Future answered tensely. "You must do as we say and make some excuse for not signing. We are after a secret that will make the treaty unnecessary."

  Mwwr was glaring at the startled, irresolute Vostol as though made impatient by this delay. The Cold One ruler glanced toward two of his fleshless officers. The two left the hall.

  Was Mwwr going to bring pressure on Vostol to make him sign? The Tarast envoy still seemed bewildered. Mwwr was now pointing toward the metal-foil document on the table, in an angry gesture.

  "But who is it that's speaking?" Vostol's whisper demanded again.

  Curt hesitated. If he answered that it was Kaffr, he would turn Vostol against him at once. The Tarast firmly considered him a fake.

  The decision was abruptly taken from his hands. Bright lights flashed inside this cramped space in the wall. Otho yelled a warning.

  "Chief, the Cold Ones are coming into the wall! There below us —"

  Things happened with explosive rapidity. Dozens of armed Cold One soldiers had poured into the space between walls by some door. Now they were clambering up the trusses all around Curt's little band.

  "We're trapped!" Gerdek's thin cry sounded. "They're all around us!"

  The Cold Ones were closing in upon them. The osseous creatures carried metal chains and were obviously under orders to capture rather than kill, for they did not use their atom-shell weapons.

  CAPTAIN FUTURE and his comrades were so jammed together in the narrow space that they could not use their own weapons without hitting each other. In an instant the Cold Ones were all around them, grasping them with fleshless hands and seeking to fling the chains around them. />
  A cramped, furious fight ensued. Struggling, wrestling, falling from truss to truss until they were at the bottom of the wall, Curt and his band resisted the horde of attackers. Grag did the most execution, even hampered as his great body was by the narrow space. His metal fists smashed open bony skulls, exposing queer cartilaginous brains.

  Curt Newton's pistol butt hammered a devil's tattoo on other hideous skull-faces. But this battle of the trapped adventurers could have but one conclusion. The horde of osseous attackers bore them down, bound their arms to their bodies with the light, tough chains. Then they were hauled roughly along the narrow space to a door in the inner wall.

  "Chief, are you all right?" Otho was asking anxiously. "How the devil did they know we were inside the wall, anyway?"

  Lacq answered that.

  "Mwwr was concentrating on reading Vostol's thoughts, as the two conferred telepathically. When Vostol whispered to us on his interphone, Mwwr would catch Vostol's thought."

  "Of course! What a fool I was not to realize that," Captain Future accused himself bitterly.

  They were being hauled through the door into a gloomy corridor. Their captors immediately forced them along this toward the big throne room. As the five bound captives were dragged in front of Mwwr's throne, Vostol recognized them and uttered an incredulous exclamation.

  "The false Kaffr and his friends!" he exclaimed. "But you were supposed by now to be among the Unbodied, back in Bebemos!”

  Mwwr was glaring down at them with his unwinking, expressionless eyes. That the Cold One ruler read Vostol's thoughts was apparent from the gesture of rage he made. Mwwr "spoke" telepathically — projecting a powerful thought which Curt and all of them were able to receive also.

  "So these strangers who dared enter our palace are your friends, are they?" the hideous ruler charged.

  Vostol's urgent telepathic reply was also clear to the captives.

  "No, they're not my friends!" Vostol was denying. "I know nothing of how they came here or why they came."

  "You are lying!” came Mwwr's furious thought. "It is all clear to me now. The Tarasts sent you to negotiate the treaty, merely to play for time while their secret emissaries came here with a deadly purpose. You are all in this plot together."