The Space Opera Megapack

by John W. Campbell

  He left us. We heard his measured tread as he stalked down the tower incline. The barrage about the tower was lifted momentarily as he went out. Then it came on again, with its glow beyond our casements, and its low electrical whine.

  I was just turning back to the room when a sound behind me made me face sharply about. My heart leaped into my throat. The woman Tara had produced from about her person a weapon of some kind. She thought she was unobserved, but from the angle at which I stood, I saw her. A gleaming metal object was in her hand. And then she launched it—a small flat disc of metal, thin, and with its circular edge keen as a knife-blade.

  Whirling with a very soft hum hardly audible, it left her hand and floated upward across the room. Circling the casements up near the ceiling, and then heading downward straight for Elza! And I saw, too, that the woman was guiding it by a tiny radio-control.

  The thing was so unexpected that I stood gaping. But only for an instant. I saw the deadly whirling knife-disc sailing for Elza.… It would strike her…shear her white throat.…

  With a shout of horror and anger, I leaped for the woman. But Wolfgar, too, had seen the disc and he went into action quicker than I. The divan was beside him. He snatched up a pillow; flung it upward at the disc. The soft pillow struck the disc; together, entangled, they fell harmlessly to the floor.

  I was upon the woman, snatching the handle of the control-wire from her hand, wrenching its connection loose from her robe. Under my onslaught, she fell; and I kneeled beside her, gripping her while she tore at me and screamed with hysterical, murderous frenzy.

  CHAPTER XIII

  Love—and Hate

  I did not harm this Tara, though I was sorely tempted to; and after a moment we quieted her. She was crying and laughing by turns; but when we seated her on the divan she controlled herself and fell into a sullen silence. Elza, pale and frightened at her escape, faced the woman, and waved Wolfgar and me aside. Strange little Elza! Resolute, she stood there, and would brook no interference with her purpose. Wolfgar and I withdrew a pace or two and stood watching them.

  Tara’s breast was heaving with her pent emotion. She sat drooping on the divan, her face buried in her hands.

  Elza said gently: “Why did you do that, Tara?”

  There was no answer; only the woman’s catching breath as she struggled with her sobs. Across the background of my consciousness came the thought that Tarrano or one of his guards would doubtless momentarily appear to investigate all this turmoil. And I was vaguely conscious also that from our instrument room the sounds of an unusual activity were coming. But I did not heed them. Elza was insisting:

  “Why did you do that, Tara? Why should you want to harm me?”

  Tara looked up. “You have stolen the man I love.”

  “I?”

  “Yes. Tarrano—”

  She broke off, set her lips firmly together as though to repress further words; and her fine grey eyes, filled with unbidden tears, were smoldering to their depths with hate.

  Impulsively Elza sank to the floor beside the woman. But Tara drew away.

  Elza said: “Tarrano—he is a wonderful man, Tara. A genius—the greatest figure of these three worlds.…”

  My heart sank to hear her say it!

  “…a genius, Tara. You should be proud to love him.…”

  “You—” The woman’s writhing fingers seemed about to reach for Elza. I took a sudden step forward, then relaxed. Elza added quickly:

  “But I would not steal Tarrano from you. Don’t you realize that?”

  “No!”

  “But it’s true.”

  “No! No! You have stolen him! With your queer Earth beauty—that colored hair of yours—those rounded limbs—you’ve bewitched him! I can see it. You can’t lie to me! I made him angry once and he admitted it.”

  “No, I tell you!”

  “I say yes. You’ve stolen him from me. He loves you—and he mocks and laughs at me—”

  “Tara, wait. I do not love Tarrano, I tell you. I would not have him—” How my heart leaped to hear her say it so convincingly. She added:

  “He loves me, perhaps—but I can’t help that. He has me prisoner here. I am forced—”

  “You lie! You are playing to win him! What girl would refuse? You say yourself he is the greatest man of the ages. You lie when you tell me you do not want him!”

  Elza had taken the woman by the shoulders. “Tara, listen—you must listen! Are you mated with Tarrano?”

  “No! But years ago he promised me. I took his name then, as we do in the Cold Country. They still call me Tara! Years I have waited, true to my promise—with even my name of maidenhood relinquished. His name—Tara! And now he tosses me aside—because you, only an Earth woman, have bewitched him.”

  “I didn’t want to bewitch him, Tara.” Elza’s voice was very gentle; and a whimsical smile was plucking at her lips. “You think I want him because he is a genius—the greatest man of our time?”

  “Yes!”

  “Is that why you want him?”

  “No, I love him.”

  “You loved him before he was very great, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. Back in the Cold Country. When he was only a boy—and I was no more than a girl half grown. I love him for himself, I tell you—”

  Elza interrupted; and her voice risen to greater firmness, held a quality of earnest pleading.

  “Wait, Tara! You love Tarrano for himself—because you are a woman capable of love. It is the man you love—not his deeds, or his fame or his destiny. Isn’t that so?”

  “Yes. I—”

  “Then won’t you give me credit for being a woman with instincts as fine as your own? The love of a good woman goes unbidden. You can’t win it by conquering worlds and flinging them at her feet. Tarrano thinks you can. He thinks to dazzle me with his feats of prowess. He wants to buy my love with thrones for me to grace as queen. He thinks my awe and fear of him are love. He thinks a woman’s love is born of respect, and admiration, and promises of wealth. But you and I, Tara—we know it isn’t. We know it’s born of a glance—born in poverty and sickness—adversity—every ill circumstance—born without reason—for no reason at all. Just born! And if anything else gives it birth—it is not a true woman’s love. You and I know that, Tara. Don’t you see?”

  Tara was sobbing unrestrainedly now, and Elza, with arms around her, went on:

  “You should be proud to love Tarrano. If I loved him, I would be proud of him, too. But I do not—”

  A step sounded near at hand. Tarrano stood in the archway, with arms folded, regarding us sardonically.

  CHAPTER XIV

  Defying Worlds

  “So?” Tarrano eyed us, evidently in no hurry to speak further, seemingly amused at our confusion. Had he heard much of what the two women had said? All of it, or most of it, doubtless, with his instruments as he approached. But, even with the knowledge of Elza’s vehement appraisal of him, he seemed now quite imperturbable. His gaze touched me and Wolfgar, then returned to the women.

  “So? It would seem, Tara, that your plan to wait upon the Lady Elza was not very successful.” He dropped the irony, adding crisply: “Tara, come here!”

  She rose to her feet obediently, and stood facing him. Humble, fearful, yet a trifle defiant. For a moment he frowned upon her thoughtfully; then he said to Elza:

  “Your policy of mercy is very embarrassing, Lady Elza.” He made a deprecating gesture, and again his eyes were twinkling. “This woman threatened your life. My guards were lax—though I must admit they had good excuse, with the other tasks which I thrust upon them.… Your life was threatened—you escaped by the merest chance of fortune. You know, of course, what justice would bid me do to this would-be murderess?”

  Elza was on her feet, standing beside Tara. She did not answer.

  Tarrano now was smiling. “I must let her go unpunished? Embarrassing, this merciful policy to which you have committed me! Yet—your will is my law as you know—though I
feel that some day it will involve us in disaster.… You, Tara, will not be punished, much as you deserve it.” He paused, then said as an afterthought: “You, Jac Hallen, I thank you for what you tried to do in thwarting the attack. You acted in very clumsy fashion—but, at least, you doubtless did your best.” Gravely he turned to Wolfgar. “I shall not forget, Wolfgar, that, in an emergency, you saved the life of Lady Elza.… Enough! These are busy moments. You chose an awkward time to raise this turmoil. Come with me—all of you.”

  He summoned Argo and two other guards. Unceremoniously, and with more haste than I had ever seen in Tarrano, he led us from the building. A hint of his purpose came to me, as he bade Elza gather up her few personal belongings, and gave them to a guard to carry.

  In a group, he herded us across the spider bridge. It was early evening, but night had fully fallen. The city was ablaze with its colored lights. We crossed the bridge, passed through a tunnel-arcade, and came out to a platform which was at the base of a skeleton tower. Its naked girders rose some seven hundred feet above us. The highest structure in the city. A waiting lifting-car was there. We entered, and it shot us upward.

  At the top, the narrowed structure was enclosed into a single room some thirty feet square. A many-windowed room, with a small metal balcony surrounding it outside. Immediately above the room, at the very peak of the tower, was a single, powerful light-beam; its silver searching ray swept the cloudless, starry sky in a slow circle.

  The room was crowded with instruments. Unlighted, save by the reflected glow of its many image-mirrors, all of which seemed in full operation. A dozen intent men sat at the tables; a silent room, but for the hum and click of the instruments.

  Tarrano said softly: “We have been very busy while you below were engaged with your petty hates.”

  He seated himself at a table apart, upon which was a single mirror, and he gathered us around him. The mirror was dark. He called:

  “Rax—let me see Mars—you have them by relay? The Hill City?”

  The mirror flashed on. From an aperture overhead, a tiny beam of the blue helio-transformer came down to it. In the mirror I saw an image of the familiar Hill City. A terraced slope, dotted with the cubical buildings, spires and tunnel mouths. An empty channel15 curved down across the landscape from the north.

  A distant scene, empty and lifeless save for black puffs which rose in the air above the city.

  Tarrano called impatiently: “Closer, Rax!”

  The image dissolved, blurred; turned red, violet, then white. We seemed now upon a height close above the city. It was seething with confusion. Fighting going on in the streets. Animals and men, fighting; a crowd of the Little People thronging a public square, with beasts of war charging them.

  The Hairless Men; I had heard of them, with their animals trained to fight, while they—the humans—lurked behind. A mysterious, almost grewsome race, to us who live on Earth—these hairless dwellers of the underground Mars. Dead-white of skin; sleek and hairless; heavily muscled from the work of their world; and almost blind from living in the dark.

  They were swarming now into the Hill City of the ruling Little People. The beasts, at their commands, were running wild through the streets…dripping jaws, tearing at the women…the children.…

  I felt Elza turn away, shuddering.

  Tarrano chuckled. “The revolt. It came, of course, as I planned. This Little People government—it was annoying… Colley!”

  “Master?”

  “Send the message, Colley. Fling it audibly over Mars! Tell the rulers of the Little People that if they send up the green bomb of surrender—Tarrano will spare them further bloodshed. Tell them that I am not giving the Brende secret to Earth. In a moment I shall defy the Earth Council. Promise them that the Brende secret is going to Mars. Assure them they will have everlasting life for everyone.… Wohl!”

  “Master?”

  “Give me the Cave Station.”

  The mirror went dark. Then it turned a dazzling yellow. A cavern in the interior of Mars. A dark scene of wavering yellow torches. Around a table of instruments sat a score of hairless men. Tarrano snatched up a mouthpiece—murmured slowly into it. I could see the leader of the hairless men nod after a time, as the message reached him. And I saw him turn away to issue swift orders as Tarrano had commanded.

  Tarrano said brusquely: “Enough!… Wohl!”

  The mirror went dark. A voice called: “Master, the green bomb has gone up from the Hill City! Do you wish to see?”

  “No.… Give me Venus. Olgan! Are they quiet on Venus?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Congratulate them that we have conquered the Little People. Tell them Mars is ours now! Tell them I am coming to Venus at once—with the Brende model.…”

  “Master, you wish to see Venus? I have direct communication—”

  Another voice interrupted. “The Earth Council, Master! They demand an explanation of why you say the Brende model is going to Mars. You have promised it to Earth. They demand—”

  Tarrano rasped: “Tell them to wait… I don’t want Venus, Olgan.… Megar! Give me the Earth Mountain Station.”

  He turned to me, and his voice dropped again to that characteristic sardonic drawl:

  “We must see how your friend Georg Brende is faring.”

  The mirror showed Georg, standing irresolute on the platform before the sending discs.

  Tarrano called: “The Princess Maida—can’t you locate her?”

  The scene blurred momentarily, then showed us the outside of the Station. A white expanse of snow, with purple starlit sky above. From a side door of the building, as we watched, the figures of two women appeared. A woman leading Maida. As they came out, with Maida all unsuspecting, from the shadows a group of men pounced upon them—dragged Maida away.

  Tarrano laughed. “Enough!… Show me Georg Brende again.… Hurry!”

  We saw Georg waver and leap through the window, fall into the snow, where, from the shadows of the building, other men rushed out upon him…hurried him away after the captive Maida.…

  Tarrano’s laugh was grim and triumphant. “Ha! We win there, also! Enough! Nunz? Nunz—now you can give me the Earth Council! Where is it sitting? Washington, or Great London?”

  “Washington, Master.”

  “Very well.… No, never mind connecting me. You speak for me. Tell them I’ve changed my mind. The Brende model is not coming to Washington. Tell them Georg Brende is lost to them, also. Tell them I declare war!Tarrano the Conqueror declares war on the Earth! Tell them that, with my compliments. Tell them to come down here and overwhelm me—it ought to be very easy!”

  CHAPTER XV

  Escape

  That Tarrano should thus defy the Earth, when by every law of rational circumstance the move seemed to spell only his own disaster, was characteristic of the man. He stood there in the instrument room at the peak of the skeleton tower in Venia and rasped out to the Earth Council his defiance. Silence followed—silence unbroken save by the hiss and click of the instruments as the message was sent.

  And then Tarrano ordered thrown upon himself the lights and sending mirrors so that his own image might be available to all of the public and Earth officials who cared to look upon it. Within the circle of mirrors he stood drawn to his full height; his eyes flashing, heavy brows lowered, and a sardonic smile—almost a leer—pulling at his thin lips. The embodiment of defiance. Yet to those who knew him well—as I was beginning to know him—there was in his eyes a gleam of irony, as though even in this situation he saw humor. A game, with worlds and nations as his pawns—a game wherein, though he had apparently lost, with the confidence of his genius he knew that the hidden move he was about to make would extricate him.

  “Enough,” he rasped.

  The mirrors went dark. He turned away; and still without appearance of haste he drew Wolfgar, Elza and me to the balcony. Together we stood gazing over the lights of the city below us.

  A cloudless, starry sky. Empty of air
-craft; but to the north just below the horizon, we knew that the line of war vessels was hovering. Even now, doubtless, they had their orders to descend upon us. Tarrano seemed waiting, and I suppose we stood there half an hour. Occasionally he would sight an instrument toward the north; and by the orders he gave at intervals I knew that preparations for action on his part were under way.

  Half an hour. Then abruptly from below the northern horizon lights came up—spreading colored beams. The Earth war vessels! A line of them as far as we could see from left to right, mounting up into the sky as they winged their way toward us—a line spreading out in a broad arc. And then, behind us, I saw others appear. We were surrounded.

  It was a magnificent, awe-inspiring sight, that vast ring of approaching colored lights. Red, green and purple—slowly moving eyes. Light-rockets sometimes mounting above them, to burst with a soundless glare of white light in the sky; and underneath, the spreading white search-beams, sweeping down to the dark forest that lay all about us.

  Soon, in the white glare of the bombs, we could distinguish the actual shapes of the vessels. Still Tarrano did not move from his place by the balcony rail. He stood there, with a hand contemplatively under his chin, as though absorbed by an interest in the scene purely impersonal. Was he going to give himself up? Stand there inactive while these armed forces of the most powerful world in the Solar System swept down upon him?

  Abruptly he snapped his instrument back to his belt. He had not used it since the hostile lights had appeared. Previously, I knew, he had been watching those lights, with the curved ray of the instrument when the lights themselves had been below the horizon.

  He turned now to me. “They are here, Jac Hallen. Almost here. And I am at their mercy.” His tone was ironic; then it hardened into grimness. He was addressing me, but I knew it was for Elza’s benefit he spoke.

  “I came here to Earth, Jac Hallen, for certain things. I find them now accomplished. I belong here no longer.” He laughed. “I would not force myself into a war prematurely. That would be very unwise. I think—we shall have to avoid this—engagement. I am—slightly outnumbered.”