“That’s easy. Before Dalaker came I was able to listen to the radio reception from the outer world. The countries that spoke English seemed to be the biggest and sanest and, in the hope that one day I might see such places, I learned the language. Just as Dalaker taught most of his guards our native tongue as well as their normal English.”
Blake glanced at her quickly. “Do you mean that if Dalaker’s rule were broken up, if peace were restored here, you’d still like to see the outer world?”
“For a very good reason,” she replied seriously. “You must have seen Valcus—that’s our native name for the volcano in the hills—must have realized how easily he could wipe us out. Six years ago he nearly did: our ynium buildings saved us. But in another eruption, although the buildings might stand it, we would perhaps be killed by poisonous gases, molten lava… No, if I had a chance I’d like to be in the outer world. Out there one can live peacefully and yet achieve. Here, in normal times, there is nothing to achieve… Can you understand me?”
Blake nodded slowly, studied the misty eyes for a while. Then he said, “I guess we’ve wasted enough time in here. I’ve got to get moving and settle a few scores with Dalaker. If I could bust him up I’d bust the entire morale of his cut throat gang. That’s a certainty.”
Lania restrained him as he got to his feet.
“Not now,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “It must be nearly daylight outside. We’ll do better to sleep through the daylight hours, then get out of the conduit by night…” She looked around, drew up her slim bare legs onto the crate. “We can sleep here quite well. Besides, we need refreshing.”
“Guess you’re right.” Blake settled himself on the crate opposite, lay for a while looking across at the girl. She smiled at him a little.
“What’s your name?” she asked, almost naively.
“Eh? Gosh, I forgot that! Blake Henthorne—and down here we have Ranji…”
“Oh!” She said no more, coiled up and closed her eyes. Blake lay with eyes open for a long time, then he pillowed his head on his arm, fell into the sleep of exhaustion.
Below him, propped against the same crate, Ranji snoozed gently, his lean brown hand clasped in readiness round the hilt of his knife as it lay on the floor…
CHAPTER VI
Through the Sewers
According to the girl, whose sense of time seemed uncannily developed from her constant life underground, it was nearly ten hours later when they all awoke—nearing nightfall again. Thus briefly refreshed they set off again under the girl’s expert guidance.
After a time, Blake could tell they had left the main tunnel continuation and had branched off to the right. The darkness was pitchy; even the girl herself was at a loss at times. Then again she would go onwards, clinging to Blake’s hand, he in turn pulling Ranji along with him…
As they went they could hear the buried throb of the strange city’s industry, muffled with intervening rock and distance. Evidently the mutiny had been gotten in hand: it sounded as though things were back to normal.
Now and again they passed below gratings which gave them an angled view of the floodlit city above. It was night again; the girl’s judgment had been correct… At one particular grating, however, which according to the girl was near the city’s center, they all came to an abrupt halt at the sound of voices.
“Are they in this sewer?” asked Blake tensely, gripping Lania’s arm.
“No. Above….” He saw the whites of her eyes as she stared upwards. He looked with her, could make out the feet and foreshortened figure of a man. As he moved a little he became revealed as a Taskmaster. Angling away from him, still and silent, were men and women slaves. The chin and face of another taskmaster appeared.
“If those damned planes land here we can look out for trouble,” he said thickly. “One of ’em is a bomber, accordin’ to what I’ve heard. Y’know what that means.”
The other taskmaster laughed. “What the hell’s eatin’ you, man? You can trust the chief, can’t you? He’ll knock those planes into so many pieces it’ll take years to find the bits. Just the same as has happened to other planes that have come nosin’ where they’re not wanted… Besides, they’re not even likely to find this place. If they do”—it sounded as though he spat—“they’ll find plenty of electrical frequency waiting to meet ’em.”
The other man’s voice didn’t sound as though he was very convinced. “I hope you’re right, that’s all… Well, I’ll be seeing you later. Got to get down to the mines. Plenty of trouble down there yesterday and we ain’t gotten it properly straight yet…”
“O.K.” There came the crack of a whip and the feet of the men and women began to scrape ever the grating. Blake looked quickly at Lania.
“You heard what he said?” he whispered quickly. “He talked about planes coming here, a bomber amongst them. They must be coming in reply to that radio message I sent out. I warned them of danger, and—And that devil Dalaker knows all about it!” he finished anxiously. “Listen, Lania, I’ve got to find him! Stop him! He’s planning on destroying the whole darned squadron—”
“Of course he is,” the girl said, in bitter resignation. “That’s what he always does to anybody or anything that comes too close to the valley… But Blake,” she went on seriously, “you can’t possibly do anything. The generating station, source of all electrical power in this city, is always guarded.”
“Let me worry about that!” he retorted. “Where is this place? How do I get there?”
“Well, I’ll show you—but it’s no use. Come on.”
She broke into a run and they all went racing at top speed along the tunnel, faintly illumined now by the equally spaced gratings. It seemed to extend for miles, but at last the girl stopped before the shadowy outline of a metal ladder. Far above at its summit was another of the gratings.
“This is the only grating that’s unlocked,” she explained, turning. “I found it once by accident; the catch has snapped. Follow me…” She began to climb steadily, Blake right below her, Ranji further down still with his knife now clamped in readiness between his white teeth—
Then suddenly the girl gave a cry and swayed perilously. Blake too felt the entire ladder move sickeningly and he nearly plunged the fifty feet to the conduit floor. With an effort he saved himself, swept his great arm round the girl’s slender waist and fixed her back in position on the rungs. For a moment they all listened to a subsiding grumble of sound.
“What happened?” Blake demanded in puzzlement, and he saw the girl’s face was strained as she peered down at him.
“It’s Valcus!” she said breathlessly. “The volcano—That was an earth tremor, just like the one that preceded the last eruption…”
Blake laughed shortly. “Nice place you’ve got here. Well, we can’t do a thing about it anyhow. Carry on, kid.”
After a moment or two the girl recovered her courage. The tremor had plainly unnerved her: evidently the horror of the earlier eruption was embedded in her mind… But she climbed again with increasing steadiness, finally pushed up the grating and scrambled over the rim. In another moment Blake and Ranji were beside her, standing up under the stars. They stood appraising their surroundings.
El Dorado’s massive, floodlit bulk lay to the left, spread out along the valley floor. It was perhaps a quarter of a mile to the nearest block of buildings, and one mile from the city’s center. Beyond the city, dominating the range of hills on the opposite side of the valley, Valcus was smoking and glowing ominously, spewing forth little showers of reddened ash.
Blake eyed it dubiously, then shivered a little as the night air, cool after the hot underground, blew round his semi-nude body. He turned to Lania.
“Looks quiet enough. Now, how do I get to that generating station?”
She looked at him with serious eyes. “Blake, do you really mean to make an attempt to stop Dalaker?”
“Of course! What else did you expect?”
“But you haven’t a chance!�
� she cried. “He’ll kill you on sight if—”
“Listen, Lania, there’s a job of work to be done—and I’m going to do it. Remember, there are more ways into a generating station than through the doorway. Come on, which is it?”
With obvious reluctance she pointed to the city center, indicated an edifice a little taller than the others with two tapering copper obelisks on its flat roof.
“That’s it,” she said in a low voice, dropping her arm. “The two ingots are transmission aerials. I don’t fully know their use—Dalaker erected them. It seems that they radiate electrical agitations in the same fashion as radio aerials…”
“So that’s the place,” Blake murmured, eyeing it. “I saw it from the prison, but I never guessed—”
“Blake, isn’t there some other way?”
He stopped, looked down at the soft clasp on his arm. Then with a shrug he clasped the slim shoulders in his hands. “’Fraid not, kid—but don’t you worry. I can take care of myself. You stay here with Ranji until I get back. He’ll look after you.”
“Most charming memsahib will be protected from all infidels,” Ranji promised, his hand in his sash. “Unless, sahib Blake, you would rather I—”
“No—no; you stop here and guard Lania.” Blake stooped and looked into the girl’s pretty, anxious face for a moment. Then very suddenly he kissed her upturned mouth.
“Sorry,” he said hurriedly, seeing her look of astonishment. “I’ll get Dalaker to give me a sprig of mistletoe to make it legal…”
And without giving the girl a further chance to speak he turned and went off with long strides towards the city. He looked back once to wave and saw the two figures dimly outlined against the stars. There was something about the lesser figure, the slender appeal of her body… Then he thought of Dalaker and went on again at almost a run…
CHAPTER VII
The Generating Station
He saw but few people as he neared the city, a fact which occasioned him some surprise. His surprise deepened to suspicion when he finally gained the generating station from the safety of an alley-way and found only one tall El Doradian on guard.
Blake studied the fellow for a moment, wished he understood English in order that he might make his purpose clear. Since that was out of the question the only permit was strong-arm methods. Blake began to edge forward slowly, keeping well in the shadows.
Then at length he had reached the angle of the four entrance steps, waited tensely as the guard paced rhythmically along them. He tensed his leg muscles, sprang lithely, hooked an arm under the guard’s chin and bore him to the ground.
The Doradian was powerful, a mass of highly developed muscles, but he wasn’t powerful enough to dislodge the brown arm that crushed round his neck, or the hand that cramped relentlessly in the small of his back.
“Sorry, pal, but this is business,” Blake whispered, and suddenly releasing his hold he dealt the man a blow on the side of the jaw that sprawled him for a knock out, blood oozing between his lips.
Blake looked down at him for a moment, then snatched the man’s gun from his holster and crept up the steps. Once through the main doorway he was faced with a vista of narrow hall, machine rooms leading off on each side.
He moved cautiously, alert for the slightest sound, reached the first machine room and peered within on an expanse of gigantic, whirring engines, utterly confounding his rather limited scientific knowledge. Perhaps his father might have understood, but—
“Would you care for a guide, Blake?”
Blake twisted round with a hoarse cry as that icy question fell on his ears. He started to bring up his gun, only to find himself looking down the steady muzzle of Dalaker’s automatic. The thin lips were smiling bitterly.
“Drop it, Blake. Quickly!”
Blake obeyed. If the situation had not relied so vitally on his gaining the mastery he would have shot it out there and then, but he couldn’t afford to take chances. He stood glaring, and Dalaker still smiled contentedly. As usual, he was in immaculate white, a cigarette between his lips.
“I rather thought you’d be here sooner or later,” he remarked pleasantly. “You should have known that in such a city as this television is a perfected art. I have followed you, that girl, and Ranji ever since you escaped the Mines. Later on, when I have settled with you, they’ll find their lives at an abrupt end… Unhappily, our television is not able as yet to receive sound as well—not without a transmitter that is. I have had to guess your movements. I think I should be complimented on my powers of deduction.”
“So you cleared the streets and lessened the guard on purpose?” Blake grated.
“Of course… Oh, by the way, is it in order for me to extend my sympathies for the death of your father? A pity: he was such a clever man… Almost too clever.”
“That’s on my debit account,” Blake answered stonily.
“Dear me, how interesting…” Dalaker came forward slowly. “You’ll be interested to know that your radio message from the airplane was picked up not only by Trinidad, but by several planes as well. In consequence five planes, among them a bomber sent from Trinidad, are about two hundred miles from here at the moment. Television discovered them, of course. In about another hour, allowing time for the planes to find this valley, they will be here… But they won’t land.”
“I overheard all that in the sewer,” Blake snapped.
“Oh, you did! That explains why you came here, then. It also saves a lot of explanation on my part. I shall of course destroy those planes with electric waves.”
“I know that, too.”
Dalaker threw down his cigarette; His dark eyes were glittering. “You know quite a lot, don’t you? I suppose that infernal girl told you everything about El Dorado? Why I’m here?”
Blake eyed him steadily. “Keep the girl out of this, Dalaker. This is our fight.”
“Then she did tell you!” Dalaker colored a little with inner fury. “She’ll learn plenty before I’m through with her… All right, Blake, I can throw all pretense aside. I’m mining ynium so I can sell it to a shattered world—and I don’t intend to be baulked by you or anybody else. I’ll get you—then I’ll get that girl and Ranji. Television will find them…” He stopped, his obvious fury subsiding a little. He went on with his old calmness, “I’d kill you right now, Blake, only I think you ought to know a little about the workings of my destructive system.”
“Nice of you,” Blake sneered.
“It is only right,” Dalaker murmured. He jerked his automatic meaningfully. “Move forward until I tell you to stop—and don’t try any tricks. I shan’t shoot to kill, but I’ll most certainly incapacitate you. Get moving!”
Blake turned, hands upraised, and marched into the center of the great, machinery filled room. Between two low-built transparent balls of a silvery substance, supported on heavily insulated pillars, he came to a halt at Dalaker’s command.
“In case you’re not aware of it,” Dalaker said, “those globes are positive and negative spheres. They’re essential in the makeup of this machinery. Upon the final release of my electrical energy into the surrounding atmosphere—energy which spreads out as it travels in the fashion of all waves of matter—the excess power stores up in potential form in these two spheres and is released from one globe to the other. It is definitely surplus power, which if not released might blow the entire city to atoms—if ynium can be destroyed, that is… But even a surplus power can have disastrous effect on anybody or thing in its path…”
Blake said nothing, and Dalaker went on steadily.
“The actual disturbances are simple to produce. Electric waves—or, to be more exact, electronic waves—can of course produce havoc with the atmosphere if they are present in large quantity. They can cause severe thunderstorms, completely upset radio transmission and reception, produce electrical effects of dangerous intensity. The fact is proven by Nature herself by the electron streams reaching us from the sun, especially when his spots are numerous. T
he electronic streams agitate our atmosphere, at times, into severe storms. The same effect, artificially created and rendered a thousand times more potent is, of course, correspondingly increased in danger.”
Blake stared incredulously for a moment, then he demanded, “You mean you deliberately generate these electronic waves knowing they will spread out and produce shattering storms in their track?”
“Exactly that… And as for any airplanes, well—the waves naturally interfere with the electrical parts of the engines. Dynamos stop, generators cease, sparking plugs refuse to operate, radio is useless, ignition fails… And when ignition fails over a trackless jungle it is most unfortunate for the fliers…” Dalaker smiled significantly, went on softly, “Right now I am building up power to destroy those approaching planes. The same wave, when released, will travel onwards and outwards, produce atmospheric havoc in its track until its energy is spent. Also, the surplus energy from that release will kill you!”
“Me?” Blake’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at, Dalaker? I’ll stand so much and—”
“You’re in no position to say what you’ll do!” Dalaker snapped. “If I shoot you dead you’ll take a short cut out of all your worries. I don’t like it that way. You’ve caused me plenty of trouble in the short time I’ve known you: you started that mutiny in the smelting room: you were responsible for two of my guards being killed… So I’m going to pay you back in slow coin.”
Dalaker stopped and nodded towards the globes.
“In roughly forty five minutes the surplus energy will be released. At that time you will be in the path of those two globes and—”
“Oh no you don’t!” Blake roared; and utterly regardless of consequences he flashed down his hands and slammed round a right to Dalaker’s jaw— But he missed.
The revolver went off stunningly; the bullet pinged off metal somewhere to the rear. Dalaker went down, clawing and struggling, as Blake plunged on top of him—but that automatic was still useful. It twisted in Dalaker’s vicious hands, came forward butt foremost so that the sharp edge struck Blake clean in the forehead. His intended knockout punch collapsed in mid-air and he went down in a reeling tide of darkness…
John Russell Fearn Omnibus Page 80