“Alan Martin, Commander, Space Fleet of Earth, calling fleet of Saturn. Check flight at once. The course you are following is a death trap, laid by the Wrongness of Space. He is in control on Luna and is impersonating Dos-Tev. Await correct course.” A pause, and the message was repeated.
Fo-Peta’s middle feeler twisted in a grimace of mockery. “He tells us to check our flight—but that has already been attended to quite efficiently. The Wrongness of Space is in control on Awn, eh? Well, another Wrongness has taken charge here.” His jell tinged gloomily. “I sometimes wish I were back in the Ethor regions—dying of attrition. It would be better than this confusion.”
Kama-Loo’s feelers twitched in negation. “Don’t be foolish, Fo-Peta. All this must end some time—and you and Zeera can spend the rest of your lives in a Narlonian paradise, absorbing cana and tara.” His tones belied the confidence his words expressed. Musingly he added: “I wonder what Zeera plans—” He stopped short with a sudden gasp thru the gills. “Look!”
The Efranian spun around, his eye pointing in the direction the scientist indicated; and abruptly his jell and feelers combined in expressing incredulous amazement. For there on the screenophotoscope where but a moment before had been the image of the creature from Darth, was now the interior of a strange space ship, a craft so large that the lone figure floating above an immense control board seemed almost microscopic by contrast. Now that figure spoke, and the listeners heard the voice of Zeera, jubilant, alive with hope.
“Fo-Peta, I’ve done it! I’ve brought this monstrous ship thru space to you! Come out—your entire fleet is within my little vessel.”
Startled, Kama-Loo switched on the magna plate and turned its lenses in a giant circle about the Zeera. On every side were the gently curving walls of a space ship, so vast that it stunned the imagination. The virgo spoke truth.
At Fo-Peta’s orders, Kama-Loo set the controls to descend. The strange force still held them powerless. His jell tinting with annoyance, the Efranian ordered his crew, and the commanders and crews of the other vessels to stay at their posts while he and Kama-Loo descended to the floor of the giant craft. Opening a vision plate, they drifted out.
Down, down they floated thru somewhat rarefied metallic vapors, down to the side of Zeera. An instant’s hesitation; then Fo-Peta’s feelers twined about those of the virgo in a fiercely affectionate embrace. Old Kama-Loo turned his eye toward the huge bank of controls.
He had looked away thru politeness, but his interest became genuine in an instant. Back and forth he drifted above the apparatus, studying the device in the main like that in the dimension cars of Hade, but indicative of far higher intelligence and of far greater skill in things mechanical.
Zeera began talking, eagerly, and disjointedly, virgo-like, glad for an audience.
“We are not safe here, Fo-Peta! Elo Hava—if it is the god—will follow. The Pross Lords are back on Narlone, but Elo Hava and his horde—that is another matter.”
Gently Fo-Peta remonstrated. “Zeera, you forget that we know nothing of what has happened. Tell us all about it, starting with the revolt of the Pross Lords.”
Rapidly the, the virgo sketched the events which had led up to her arrival in space in the gigantic dimensional car.
The rebellion of the Pross Lords had taken the leaders of the Toilers completely by surprise. Confident in the security of their newfound freedom, the guards had grown careless. And in the noisome depths of the Ethor regions, where vigilance seemed unnecessary, Pross Mere-Mer and a few of his former associates had planned and executed the revolution.
Somehow—Zeera did not know the method employed—they had stored concentrated Ethor in the tara containers, and with it, had spread attrition—the hideous nager—over vast areas of Narlone. The condensed virus, volatilizing on contact with the metallic vapors, had been impossible to combat. Only in flight lay safety. With ease the Pross Lords had seized their former power.
In the Imperial Palace of Narlone, Zeera, guarded by a select company of soldiers, had viewed the onslaught of the rebels with growing alarm. Knowing that Fo-Peta and his space ships were too far away to be of assistance, she had not called him until the tide of battle had definitely gone against the defenders; and at that moment Pross Mere-Mer had forced his way past her guards to capture her.
Leaving his acolytes in control of the palace, Pross Mere-Mer had borne her triumphantly to Fo-Peta’s dimensional car, telling her of his plans. Virs were already loading the craft with casks of concentrated Ethor, and an astronomer sat within the control room, rapidly computing the position of Ern and her other satellites. The vessel was almost ready for its flight to these worlds to urge them to follow Narlone’s lead.
Then abruptly out of nowhere had appeared an incredible spherical ship, a monstrous thing like a miniature world of polished metal. And from it had come the giant figure of the being who called himself Elo Hava, followed by a horde of monstrosities like creations of some demented demon. At thought of them, Zeera’s jell tinged with utter revulsion.
Short, thin feelers, bloated and blotched with the hideous nagar—to the virgo that was what they seemed to be. But feelers that were detached from the parent body, that floated and writhed thru the air of their own volition, feelers ringed with repulsive swellings, that tapered to blunt points at both ends. Twisting and squirming about Elo Hava, the hideous host had sped toward the dimensional car with ferocious speed.
What followed was a blur of confusion to Zeera. At sight of this new menace, Pross Mere-Mer had broken a spell of momentary paralysis and had fled, dragging Zeera in the grasp of a crushing feeler. A backward glance of the virgo had revealed the monsters completely covering the dimensional car, a strange blue luminescence emanating from them.
And the craft with its occupants had melted beneath them, shrinking rapidly to vanish into nothingness!
That was all that Zeera had seen, for at that instant Elo Hava had reached them. In a thought he had seized them and had flashed with them into his giant craft. Dropping them with stunning force, he had darted back to lead his horde. Zeera had seen him speed away as blackness closed over her senses.
When consciousness returned to the virgo, she had seen the Pross Lord lying collapsed at her side. After gaining full possession of her faculties, and examining portions of the craft, she had realized that in many ways it was similar in construction to the dimensional cars of Ern. Conceiving the idea of fleeing to Fo-Peta in space, she had called the Efranian on the modified screenophotoscope in the vessel. After gaining their position from Kama-Loo, she had constructed a chart and had made the journey.
At the conclusion of Zeera’s narrative, Fo-Peta, more the lover now than the logical thinker, began commenting solicitously upon her danger. It remained for Kama-Loo to see the salient fact her story revealed.
“Why—then Pross Mere-Mer is right here with us!”
An instant of startled silence, while their eyes searched everywhere for the Pross Lord—then from a deep niche in the huge apparatus beneath them came the words:
“Yes, he’s here and he has a Hadean disk pointed right at you! Do not move!” Out of a maze of giant instruments floated Pross Mere-Mer, his jell colored vindictively, his slimy purple eye aglow with satisfaction. “Again Pross Mere-Mer is in control!”
Fo-Peta seemed stunned. The virgo stared at the tall Narlonian fearfully. Only Kama-Loo was unperturbed.
“You may be in control—but I know you won’t harm me, because you can’t get along without my knowledge. Then too, you forget Elo Hava.” The keen eye of the astronomer had seen something that had escaped the others; and now he pointed coolly toward a wide, transparent plate above them. Framed beyond the opening were ten of the dimensional cars Fo-Peta had constructed after he had seized control of Narlone. And from nine of them were pouring the horde of Elo Hava.
Vomiting forth in the vacuum of space, where there were no metallic vapors—unharmed!
The tenth hovered motionless for a mom
ent, apart from the rest—then it vanished—and reappeared instantly within the giant space sphere!
And from it floated Elo Hava!
Pross Mere-Mer collapsed as though his jell were oozing from a hole in his skin. His feelers turned gray with fear. The others were more than uneasy; but the Pross Lord was a pitiable sight. It was as tho he had a premonition of what was to come.
Down flashed the giant creature, myriad feelers outstretched, down toward the four watchers. Pross Mere-Mer spouted loudly thru the gills; and feverishly he flung up the feeler bearing the weapon with which he had threatened the others. A wide beam of light leaped from the disk, wavering uncertainly—and Elo Hava drew back in surprise, a number of feelers falling to the floor, where they lay, writhing feebly.
An instant—and the giant hurled himself ferociously at the Pross Lord, ignoring the searing beam, countless coils wrapping themselves about his quivering jell. With the fury of utter despair, Pross Mere-Mer fought as he had never fought before, bringing every ounce of his great strength into play. Around and around they reeled in an uneven struggle that could have but one conclusion.
The instant the fight began, Fo-Peta shook off his numbing lethargy and leaped into action. A twist of his teeba shot him over to the screenophotoscope. It required no adjusting; it was still set on the cycle of the Zeera. In the space ship the men caught the message, relayed it to the others.
“If you get a chance, kill this monster. Use everything we have. And if those things outside get in, stop them! They’re mighty dangerous. If they surround a ship they can dissolve it—destroy it completely. Zeera’s coming up—take her in.” The Efranian broke contact and whirled toward the virgo. “Up to the ship—quick! You’ll be safer there.” His jell colored impatiently as she gestured denial. “You must! Here you will just interfere with us.”
Reluctantly Zeera darted upward, her eye on the space ships. And at that instant Elo Hava released a thing of ruptured feelers and punctured, lacerated jell—Pross Mere-Mer—dead.
Resolutely Fo-Peta faced the giant. He could not hope to defeat him—but he must try. In a fleeting instant his mind noted many things—Kama-Loo darting toward what appeared to be a bank of weapons controls. . . Zeera almost half way to the ships and rising rapidly. . . The monster horde gathering about the craft’s hull, to the left of the vision plate above them. . . But dominating all else was the approaching figure of Elo Hava.
Now he had reached him—and had passed, ignoring him utterly! Above a strange device he stopped—deftly depressed a lever—and high above, directly opposite the assembled horde, a wide, circular portal slid open. In swarmed the monsters. And at the same instant Kama-Loo did something with the unfamiliar instruments.
A sharp, penetrating click—and a tracery of finest wires sprang into relief over every square inch of the sphere’s walls. Radiance that sent a tingling shock thru all of them—and that gripped them in a paralyzing clutch that could not be broken! Kama-Loo could not move the feeler that had done the damage; Elo Hava, turning away after closing the portal into space, grew suddenly rigid; and Fo-Peta, watching the horde above him, could only stare fixedly upward. All were helpless.
The Efranian’s staring eye saw Zeera spurt suddenly toward the space fleet, fleeing from the onrushing horde; saw her reach it and vanish among the vessels—and he knew that she was comparatively safe. Then he saw the writhing things swarm over every craft, cloaking them with pulsing curtains of azure fire—the radiance which had destroyed the dimensional car.
Now a faint hum came from the space ships—a crackling whir. Out thru minute vents in the walls of the vessels stabbed pointed needle rays of disintegrating force, beams that disrupted matter at a touch. But the monsters, as tho guided by some unknown sense, instantly coiled around the openings, only a few casualties in their ranks. And the brilliance of their glowing doubled.
Fo-Peta knew instinctively that the fleet of the satellites must do something at once or it would be too late. And—Zeera was in one of the vessels.
Suddenly the ships began to turn, accelerating with every revolution, whirling madly while roaring jets of rocket flame spun about them. They had broken the imprisoning clutch of Elo Hava’s powers, had loosed the full strength of all their rocket jets at the same instant to blast their tormentors with searing flame. And the monster horde fell hastily away from the space ships, some drifting about as lifeless, fire-charred hulks.
At a distance they paused, seeming to contemplate the fleet with unseen eyes. Evidently they had expected no real resistance. Moments of inactivity—then with their swollen lengths arched in rough half-circles, they poured torrents of crackling energy into the ships—elusive targets now—and were met by plunging spherical battering rams, as the vessels darted wildly about, crashing into them with devastating effect.
Beside him Fo-Peta heard a snarling grunt. Elo Hava! As tho it were a signal, his horde abruptly changed their tactics, concentrating their forces on a single ship. Uncertainly it checked its flight—its rocket charges dying—and in a breath it was lost in a colossal deluge of coruscating light. Moment of this—and as one, the monsters flung themselves upon the crippled craft, completely enveloping it with their bodies. And it glowed—and shrank—and vanished—as had the dimensional car! All in a period incredibly brief.
To the three below came the acrid smell of consumed matter, floating sluggishly thru the metallic vapors.
And now Fo-Peta saw the Zeera stagger weakly, saw her rocket flames die down! The attackers, untangling themselves from the knot within which their victim had vanished, sensed it too, and leaped upon her eagerly. Fo-Peta spouted violently thru the gills, his teeba striving futilely to force him upward. Zeera—Zeera—was she in that vessel? He had lost sight of her among the other ships—but he thought she had entered the craft named for her. And now it was beset by the destroying horde!
Their method of attack was the same. The deluge of blasting energy—then the furious onslaught of their glowing bodies—but there the similarity ended.
At close range the four remaining space ships suddenly released the full power of their arsenal upon the shrinking ball of monsters—blasted it with the weapons of Hade and the mighty powers given them by Mea-Quin—blasted it with cascades of destruction that filled the giant ship with deafening thunder, with eye-searing radiance, with nauseating odors—energies that ripped and flayed and burned that repulsive mass into a lifeless, shrunken cinder, glowing with a faint blue light as it spun in the fiery embrace.
Stunningly, Fo-Peta realized the significance of the tragedy. The brave virs of the Zeera had sacrificed themselves in order that the monsters might be destroyed. If—if only his virgo were safe within another ship! A selfish thought, but he could not thrust it from him.
Stray beams had been crackling against the walls of the huge sphere, some coming dangerously close to the paralyzed trio below. Most of them had been deflected by the energy-wall of that wire network, but some had penetrated, to rake and etch the surface of the ship’s inner armor. Just as the space ships shut off their barrage, a slashing ray pierced the heart of the giant weapon control board—and the paralysis vanished!
At a furious roar from Elo Hava, Fo-Peta whirled, his feelers tensed for combat. The giant hovered uncertainly, his myriad tentacles glaring everywhere. His jell was black with helpless hatred. Above him the four space ships charged downward, alert for violence. To one side Kama-Loo still gripped the weapon controls. On the other, Fo-Peta. One long moment, alive with waking fury—and Elo Hava, his figure suddenly expressing vicious resignation—vanished!
Gone—nothing to mark his going!
“Gone,” Kama-Loo muttered, breaking the tension, “back to the foul dimension that spawned him.”
Fo-Peta’s jell colored with sudden satisfaction—then dulled abruptly. Zeera!
The surviving ships were close now, still radiating the heat of battle. A portal opened in the nearest, and the commander darted thru the scorching aura.
/> “Zeera?” Fo-Peta’s jell was apprehensively questioning as he sped toward the vir. “Zeera!”
The feelers of the other gestured regret. “I’m sorry, most Potent Fo-Peta, but her commander insisted that we sacrifice her. He—“
“Not the ship,” interrupted the Efranian impatiently. “My virgo!”
“Oh—she rests safely in my vessel. She—” He paused, his eye following the revolutionist wonderingly as he flashed toward the open space ship as fast as his teeba could propel him. More slowly he moved after him.
Left alone with the marvelous devices of Elo Hava, Kama-Loo lost himself immediately in apparatus more wonderful and intricate than any he had ever seen. But, at length recalling the gathering of the System’s fleets and remembering the warning of the Darth leader, and his request that they await the correct course, he turned to the screenophotoscope. Adjusting the controls, he ranged thru cycle after cycle. Back and forth—until faintly from the great amplifiers came a muffled, sibilant voice—a voice bearing no remote resemblance to the coarse bellow of the Darthan.
Kama-Loo listened wonderingly. The voice spoke again—and now the scientist realized that they came from a Neptunian, a strange gaseous creature who communicated by changing the tints of his gases. This marvelous machine of Elo Hava must be translating that light into sound, as had the apparatus of Mea-Quin on Awn. Uncertainly Kama-Loo translated the message, uncertainly, for his knowledge of the language was extremely limited.
“Calling—space ships of Darth. Course seems confused, reply with correct course,” A pause, then “they do not answer—tired of game of war.”
Anxiously Kama-Loo awaited another message, but none came. Dimly in the background he heard a faint humming—then it too died, leaving silence. But it left him with the knowledge that the Neptunians were in distress, and that it was more than likely that no one else had heard their plea.
If only he knew where they were! His eyes roved over the device before him. Then he could—the thought ended in wonder, for there above the screen was the Neptunian’s position, changing every instant as they tore thru space; this mad machine somehow following their course.
Forgotten Fiction Page 32