The Worlds of Edmond Hamilton

by Edmond Hamilton

  Thorn thought rapidly. He had a plan for seeking Lana, but could not try it until night came. The Planeteers would be safer if they stayed off the streets in the meantime.

  "All right, we're your men if you're paying,” he told Kribo with a grin, as they descended to the street.

  Saturnopolis looked a dreary place in the sickly daylight beneath the falling rain. The cold mists that fogged its streets were bone-chilling. Through the streets roared rocketcars, and the pedestrian-walks were crowded with the Saturnian populace, and with hordes of officers and men of the four League navies. The four circle emblem of the League was showing everywhere, and it was clearly evident that Haskell Trask had whipped the people to war-fever.

  Far away, across the city, there rose from the ruck of low, black cement buildings the huge, terraced square pile that dominated everything. It had been built two centuries before, as the seat of the Saturnian government. Now, Thorn knew, it was the guarded citadel in which the ruthless dictator of the League of Cold Worlds lived and worked and wove his plans of conquest.

  Sual Av and Gunner Welk pressed close beside Thorn as the noisy hunters pushed through the crowded streets.

  The Mercurian, glancing at the distant, frowning pile, spoke guardedly in deep undertones.

  "The girl will be in that fortress, John. And I still don't see how we can, hope even to get in there."

  "We'll get in,” Thorn muttered with grim determination. “I've been here before, and I have a plan."

  "It'll have to be damned good to get us past the net of secret police around that place,” whispered Gunner. Thorn's eyes clung with fierce intensity to the looming, mist-vague fortress. Somewhere behind those forbidding walls was the pirate girl who was the focus of all his thoughts. What tortures were Haskell Trask and his fat spymaster using upon her to make her reveal the secret of Erebus?

  "Here we are!” boomed Kribo, stopping in a dingy cross-street. He pushed through a door, the others following.

  Thorn perceived that Mother Bornbey's was a shabby rendezvous, with a drinking-counter, tables, and a few “happiness vibration” booths. Krypton lamps lit the place, a few “glowers” dispelled the chill, and it was more than crowded with rough slith hunters.

  "Welcome, Kribo!” roared a dozen voices. “What luck this time?"

  "Fair, boys, fair,” answered the hulking hunter complacently. He turned. “Meet some lads from up in Karies."

  He pointed to the disguised Planeteers, introducing them to the crowd by the false names that Thorn had given him.

  A hard-faced, ample-figured old Saturnian hag reached over the drinking-counter with an outstretched hand.

  "Pass over the guns, Kribo,” she, ordered harshly.

  "This is Mother Bombey,” Kribo told Thorn with a grin. “She makes us check our guns when we come in, so that our little arguments won't wreck the place."

  Thorn made no objection to handing over the heavy atom-guns, for he and Sual Av and Gunner Welk retained their atom pistols inside their jackets.

  "Drinks or vibrations for everybody!” ordered Kribo, slapping down a platinum coin with a lordly gesture.

  Thorn ordered fungus wine, which he knew was the Saturnian favorite. Sual Av and Gunner Welk followed his lead.

  "Here's better times and plenty teeth for every hunter!” proposed Kribo, quaffing the pale liquor.

  John Thorn could not help liking the hulking hunter. He sensed that here was a representative of the real population of the League worlds, hardworking, fundamentally decent people all, when not whipped up to war fever by an ambitious dictator's inflammatory lies.

  * * * *

  Two hours went past in the crowded, noisy place. Thorn had been forced to swallow more of the musty, powerful fungus wine than he wanted, and he was glad when night fell outside, for Kribo was a little drunk and was giving him a candid opinion of the political situation. And a thin faced Saturnian nearly seemed to be listening. "The Chairman keeps saying we've got to arm to the teeth and take territory from the inner worlds because we're poor,” Kribo declared. “But it seems to me we're poor because we spend everything on this big fleet of battle-cruisers we've built."

  "Shut up, Kribo;” Thorn warned anxiously. “That kind of talk will get you into trouble."

  Kribo winked at him. “It's all right, lad. I know you feel the same way. I saw your partner choke off a laugh on our way here, when we said, ‘The Chairman is always right.’”

  Thorn knew the peril of such talk, and determined the time had come for the Planeteers to get started, since it was already full night outside. Sual Av and Gunner rose quickly at his nod.

  "We've got to be on our way, Kribo,” Thorn told the big hunter. “Thanks a lot for what you've done for us."

  He and his two comrades started for the door. But the thin-faced Saturnian he had noticed barred their way.

  "Stand where you are!” snapped this individual. “You three and that hunter are under arrest—authority of the SP."

  As he spoke, the thin-faced Saturnian turned back his jacket to show a viridiurn badge with the dreaded emblem.

  "Secret police!” gasped Kribo, his face livid.

  The whole place was frozen with terror, every man staring silently, for throughout the four worlds of the League, the secret police of Haskell Trask was a name to inspire fright.

  The SP man was drawing a pocketaudio from his jacket. So sure was he of the power of his organization's name that he had not troubled to draw a weapon.

  "You'll get a year in the mines of Pluto for your subversive talk,” he told Thorn and the others with thin-lipped satisfaction. Then he spoke into the little audio. “Forty-three-twelve calling headquarters.

  Send—” Thorn's fist crashed on his jaw, at that moment. The SP man went down in a crumpled heap, and a cry of fear and horror went up from the crowd in the place.

  "Come on, Kribo!” yelled Thorn, grabbing the dazed hunter's arm. He rushed out into the street, Sual Av and the Mercurian at his heels.

  The four of them plunged down the dark, dingy little thoroughfare, hearing an excited roar of voices from behind. The streets were far less crowded now, and the mists had cleared a little with the stopping of the rain. The stupendous bow of the rings blazed white overhead, and Titan was rising.

  "Good God, we're all in for it now!” gasped Kribo as they stopped a few blocks away. “You hit an SP man!"

  "We'll take care of ourselves,” Thorn rapped. “You'd better get back out into your fungus forests and stay there till this blows over."

  Kribo grasped at the suggestion eagerly. He gripped Thorn's hand a moment in his huge paw.

  "Thanks for pulling me out of there, lad,” he said fervently, and then hastened away.

  Thorn started with his two comrades in a run through the darker cross-streets, heading toward the huge pile of the distant citadel that frowned black against the stars.

  "This is fine. This makes things perfect!” Gunner Welk was growling as they ran. “Now we've got all the secret police in Saturnopolis looking for us. That's all we needed."

  "Shut up and keep running,” Thorn panted. “We've got to get into the citadel before the SP net picks us up."

  "Get into the citadel?” cried the Mercurian. “Are you still crazy enough to think we can?"

  "You talk too much, Gunner,” laughed Sual Av breathlessly. “Save your wind-you'll need it."

  They were all gasping from the strain of their efforts against the greater gravitation when John Thorn halted at the corner of two dark streets of warehouses, a mile from the citadel.

  Thorn looked swiftly around to make sure they were unobserved, then stooped and tugged at something in the cement paving. It was a chromaloy metal plate that came loose to reveal a dark, yawning cavity below.

  "Quick, down with you!” he ordered.

  Bewilderedly, the Venusian and Mercurian dropped down through the aperture. Thorn followed, quickly replacing the plate above them.

  They were in dank, absolute darkness
, bitterly cold. But Thorn got out his fluoric flash-lamp and its little red beam showed they stood in a big cement tube at whose bottom ran a stream of icy water.

  "This is one of the city's drains,” Thorn said rapidly. “They have to have a whole network of them, to run off the water from these perpetual rains. I learned about them when I first visited Saturn with an official Earth mission, years ago before Haskell Trask came to power.

  "There are drains beneath the citadel that open out into these main ones,” Thorn continued tautly. “That's our way into the palace!"

  "Up the drains?” Sual Av said startledly. “Why, I never thought of any way as simple as that."

  It's too simple,” rasped Gunner Welk. “Do you think these people are so dumb that they won't have planted some kind of death-trap to keep intruders from entering the citadel thus?"

  Thorn's jaw hardened. “We'll have to take that chance. Lana's in there, and this is our only way in to her."

  He started along the great drain, the red beam lighting their way. The cold, dank air and the icy water they splashed through were freezing. Shadowy things scuttled away ahead of the Planeteers, as they pushed on through the gloomy tunnels toward the guarded stronghold of the dictator.

  CHAPTER XII

  Citadel of Fear

  John Thorn paused. They had been following the huge drain for half an hour, and had now reached a point where a smaller drain-tube opened into it from the right.

  "This must be one of the citadel drains,” Thorn muttered, flashing his red beam up it. “Come on, we'll soon find out."

  "We'd better not stay down in this maze of pipes too long,” warned Sual Av. “The rains will start again when dawn comes, and these tubes will be full of rushing water."

  John Thorn was clambering into the smaller side drain. It was so small that he had to go forward in it on hands and knees. It sloped very gently upward, and its floor was damp.

  He led the way, the little red beam of his fluoric lamp lighting him forward. Sual Av followed him closely, and the big Mercurian brought up the rear.

  Thorn guessed that by now they must be passing under the wall of the great fortress. His hopes were running high. So far, they had met no barrier.

  Then suddenly, Thorn met the barrier. And he almost died before he realized it.

  The little tubular fluoric lamp he held outstretched in front of him suddenly flared red hot, its chromaloy case starting instantly to melt. Thorn recoiled with a smothered exclamation of pain and surprise, dropping the redhot thing. They were plunged into absolute darkness,

  "What is it?” exclaimed Sual Av anxiously.

  "I don't know. Something ahead melted my lamp before I could draw back,” Thorn answered, his voice wiretaut in the darkness. “Pass me your lamp, Sual. We've run into some devilish trap!"

  The Venusian passed his lamp forward. Thorn, without venturing any farther forward, snicked on the beam.

  The red ray quivered up the gently sloping black cement tube. Thorn stared tensely. There was nothing ahead—nothing except a row of small holes across the curved floor of the drain, and a similar row of holes in the roof exactly above.

  "I can't see anything,” said Sual Av. “Your lamp must have burned out accidentally."

  "Wait,” said Thorn tensely.

  He tore a bit of cloth from his jacket, and cautiously pushed it forward until it was over one of the row of holes. Instantly the cloth burst into flame and vanished in fine ashes.

  John Thorn felt cold sweat stand out on his brow. He knew now the invisible death he had nearly, blundered into.

  "There's a web of heat-beams here across the drain,” he said hoarsely. “A little trap fixed up by Haskell Trask's guards for anyone who might try to enter the citadel this way."

  The nature of the diabolical trap was clear. Buried somewhere near the cement drain was a generator of heat beams—those “focused” rays of radiant heat which were produced in a mirrored inertrum chamber by transformation of atomic energy into vibratory force in the proper octaves. Such beams had an effective range of only a few feet, but were deadly within that distance.

  "The beams are projected through three holes in the floor and disappear through the holes in the roof of the drain, to be dissipated above,” Thorn said. “It's a fiendishly clever idea. Anyone crawling up this drain would never see anything until he blundered into those beams that would sear through. and kill him instantly."

  "Hell, we can't pass this until we find some way to shut off these beams!” swore Gunner Welk from behind.

  Thorn frowned tensely. “We can't get at the generator of them,” he muttered. “That must be located outside the drain. It would take lots of tools and time to dig down to it."

  "Inertrum is proof against high heat,” Sual Av said hopefully. “If we had some inertrum plugs to stop those holes the beams come up through—"

  "That's fine,” rasped Gunner angrily. “Now all we have to do is to go back out in the city, order a nice set of inertrum plugs, and come back here with them. The secret police out there wouldn't think of bothering us while we're doing all that."

  "Shut up, Gunner,” Thorn said. “I've an idea which might work."

  He fumbled in the pouch that was still attached to his belt. Out of it, he drew the gleaming white slith teeth they had taken from the monsters they had slain in the fungus forest. There were a dozen of the teeth, long, conical fangs an inch across at the root.

  "These slith teeth might do the trick,” Thorn muttered. “They're one of the hardest and most perdurable substances in the system, remember—almost as hard as inertrum. If we plugged the heat-beam apertures with these—"

  "They couldn't last more than a few seconds before the beams burned them out!” Sual Av exclaimed.

  "A few seconds ought to be enough for us to get past,” Thorn retorted. He hesitated, then added, “The last man will run the most danger. We'll back down to the main drain, and I'll, take the rear position."

  "You'll not!” Gunner Welk declared. “Hell's name, do you want to play around in these slimy pipes all night? Go ahead and put the teeth in those holes, and let's got on—if it works,"

  "All right,” Thorn said grimly. “When I give the word, jump after me as fast as you can, and don't knock any of the teeth out of the holes!"

  Thorn rapidly prepared for their precarious stratagem. There were six holes around the perimeter of the drain from which the deadly, invisible beams emerged. He took the six most regularly-shaped of his slith-teeth, and laid them in readiness.

  Then with the end of his lamp, Thorn swiftly pushed the teeth into place. As each big white tooth was shoved forward, it became a conical plug to close the beam-aperture. By the time the sixth tooth was tamped into place, the first one was already charring and smelling.

  "Come on!” Thorn cried, and plunged forward in a scrambling leap through the teeth-plugged circle of holes.

  Sual Av followed instantly, the Venusian's wigged head butting into Thorn's back. A moment later, Gunner Welk caromed into the Venusian from behind with battering force.

  "Jacket's on fire!” gasped the Mercurian, beating at his side. A smell of scorched cloth filled the dank air.

  There was a frantic squirming in the cramped tunnel as the other two Planeteers tried to help Gunner beat out his smoldering jacket. He and Sual Av soon had it extinguished.

  "Are you hurt, Gunner?” Thorn asked anxiously.

  "No, just my side scorched a little,” panted the Mercurian. “One of those teeth burned clear out just as I jumped. It's lucky it was one slith instead of in the middle!"

  Thorn glanced back past them. The slith-teeth with which he had plugged the apertures had vanished.

  Even that super-hard substance had been charred away in a few seconds by the beams.

  "Let's get on,” growled the Mercurian in a moment. “These damned drains aren't exactly a pleasure resort."

  Again Thorn started forward on hands and knees, lighting the way with his red beam. He moved with ex
treme caution, alert to detect the presence of another invisible, deadly web.

  But they met no more such barriers. Presently they reached a place where the drain forked into five smaller tubes.

  "Which one?” whispered Sual Av to him.

  "We'll each take one, trace it and come back and meet here,” Thorn muttered. “One of them ought to lead to the dungeons."

  Thorn crawled into the right drain tube. It was so small he had to inch forward by creeping. It slanted upward also.

  Blue light finally glimmered ahead. Thorn extinguished his lamp and stealthily crawled on. He came to the end of the drain, which was closed by inertrum bars set in the cement, over his head.

  Cautiously he peered upward. The grating over him was set in the cement paving of a large court surrounded on all sides by the dark, towering mass of the citadel. Krypton lamps cast a blue glow on spaceships parked in the court, three swift-lined small cruisers. Two armed guards paced to and fro beside them.

  "Haskell Trask's personal spacecruisers,” Thorn muttered to himself.

  He backed down to the fork where the drains diverged. Gunner Welk and Sual Av were just emerging there also.

  "The dungeons are up there at the end of that pipe!” Sual Av whispered excitedly, pointing to the second drain.

  "Come on, then,” Thorn said swiftly.

  He led the way, all three of them crawling up the narrow pipe the Venusian had explored. Its opening, also, was barred by inertrum bars set in the cement.

  Thorn peered up through the bars into a short blue-lit corridor, along whose walls were the inertrum doors of cells. Almost all of the cells seemed unoccupied, their doors half-open. No prisoner stayed long in Haskell Trask's dreaded private dungeon!

  "It's Trask's dungeon, all right,” Thorn whispered. “And no guards in sight. Go back down the pipe a little."

  The other two Planeteers obeyed, all three backing down the tube a little way. Thorn drew his pistol, sighted carefully at the grating above, and pulled the trigger.