Chapter 8: World of the Green Sun
THE FUTUREMEN and their star rover allies had no time to formulate a plan of action with which to meet this unforeseen situation. Before they could even retreat inside their ship, the dozen copper craft had landed in a circle around the Comet.
From the ships, slim black tubes that appeared to be some kind of formidable weapons swung to cover the ship of the Futuremen. And at the same moment, men poured out of the strange vessels and approached Curt Newton and his band. “Don’t start anything — Otho, take your hand off your proton-pistol,” Captain Future ordered sharply. “We’re in a bad spot.”
Inwardly, Curt felt chagrined at having thus been taken by surprise. They should have known that the first ship would report their presence, that others would come. But there was no time now for self-reproaches. He braced himself to meet these inhabitants of the green star’s world, hoping that they might prove friendly.
“They’re green!” Grag was muttering amazedly. “Melt me down if I ever saw men like these before.”
“It’s a natural result of the green sunlight — this pigmentation,” rasped the Brain.
Curt was keenly surveying the advancing men. His hand was ready to flash to his own belted proton-pistol, but he hoped it would not come to that, as he and his comrades were badly outnumbered.
The advancing men were tall and vigorous — their pale green skins looked quite natural in the streaming green sunshine. They were all dark-haired, except for one who seemed their leader, whose hair was gray with age.
They wore short, kilted garments of black silken fabric, and black leather sandals. Over the upper part of their garments, each man wore a silvery breastplate that Curt guessed to be a ray-shield of some kind. These alien warriors carried black metal tubes mounted on gunlike stocks, which they kept trained on the Futuremen.
“Energy-projectors of some kind,” Curt Newton said under his breath to his comrades. “They look like dangerous weapons.”
The gray-haired man stopped a few paces away and eyed Curt with open curiosity.
The pale green face of this oldster bore the stamp of cunning intelligence, and there were shrewd, sly lines around his hooded black eyes. Captain Future distrusted him at once.
“Who are you, strangers, and why do you come “to Kor?” the green oldster demanded.
Curt felt a shock of amazement. He understood the language of the other.
It was similar in most words and phrasings to the tongue of Antares which he had recently learned from Hol Jor.
“Gods of Antares, he speaks my language!” ejaculated Hol Jor dumfoundedly. “I wasn’t surprised to find that Ber Del and Ki Illok and the rest spoke it, for there’s long been commerce between the stars in our part of the galaxy. But for these men inside the cloud to speak it —”
“They must have come from outside the cloud originally, to colonize this star’s world,” Curt muttered. “That doesn’t matter now.”
Captain Future spoke out clearly to the green leader.
“We have come from outside the great dust-cloud to this world of Kor. Damage to our ship forced us to land here, but we come as friends.”
THE sly-eyed old leader appeared to consider this, his shrewd gaze running over Curt Newton’s tall figure, the floating Brain and alert white android, the towering robot and the five star rovers.
One of the green Korian captains, eyeing Curt suspiciously, spoke to the gray-haired commander.
“They may be lying, Uzhur,” he suggested. “They may be spies from Thruun.”
The hooded eyes of Uzhur, the old Korian commander, flashed. But his manner was as smooth as his voice as he asked Curt a question.
“Do you come here from Thruun?”
Captain Future expressed an honest puzzlement.
“We don’t know who or what Thruun is.”
“It is the world of that small red star that lies deep within the central haze,” Ushur informed him. “The men of Thruun are white-skinned like yourself. Are you sure you are not one of them.”
Curt sensed peril behind the question. “We never heard of Thruun until now,” he asserted emphatically. “This wold of Kor is the first place we have landed since entering the cosmic cloud.”
“Why did you enter the cloud at all?” Uzhur wanted to know.
Again, Captain Future divined danger. He parried the question. “We are star rovers and explorers, from far-separated suns, who wish to know more of the secrets of the universe.”
“Ah, yes,” smiled Uzhur, his face a mask of cunning. “Well, strangers, you have come to a place where there are many secrets, and one that is the greatest of all the secrets of the cosmos. But we shall talk of all these things later.”
His voice took on a note of polite urgency. “Now you must give me the honor of conducting you to visit our lord and master, Larstan, King of Kor. Indeed, it will be such an honor to all us Korians that I cannot permit you to refuse.”
Curt Newton divined the threat behind these smooth words. During the colloquy, fully fifty of the green warriors had emerged from the conical ships to form a circle around the Futuremen. The Korians all carried the gun-like tubes, and held them ready for action.
Captain Future turned and whispered to his companions.
“I think we’d better go with them. We’re badly outnumbered. It’s evident that these Korians and the people of Thruun are hostile. These green men are doubtful about our own status. We may be able to turn the situation to our advantage by learning something about the Birthplace of Matter and how to approach it.”
“I don’t like being pushed around like this,” complained Otho. “Let them start a fight if they want one. Those tubes of theirs don’t look like much to me.”
As though divining the nature of their whispered conference, the sly old Korian commander, Uzhur, broke in upon them with a remark.
“You will be interested in many things in Kor,” he said carelessly to Curt. “Our buildings, our ships, our weapons. They are quite powerful, as you can see.”
WITH the words, Uzhur made a gesture to one of his followers. The Korian at once discharged his tubular weapon toward the copper cliffs. A bolt of white fire sprang from the tube and struck the distant cliff.
“Say, I don’t want to tangle with fifty of those things,” muttered Grag.
Curt smiled at the old Korian. “Your weapons are very interesting. We shall be pleased to accept your invitation and visit your city and ruler. If your ships will lead the way, we will follow in our craft.”
Uzhur smiled slyly. “We would not put you to so much trouble. You can leave your craft here under safe guard, and come with us. I insist upon it.”
Captain Future disliked this proposal strongly, but saw no way out of it.
“That is kind of you,” he told Uzhur. “We will leave our ship here as you suggest. I will only close its door to prevent rain or wind from entering.”
As Curt stepped toward the door of the Comet he was aware that the Korians raised their fire-rods toward him. He knew that any attempt on his part to enter the ship would be the signal for them to fire at him. But he made no move to enter. Instead, Captain Future casually closed the air-lock door. As he finished doing so, his hand rested for a moment on a group of small numbered studs that were the key to the ingenious lock of the door. He turned back toward Uzhur.
“I have locked our ship,” he said pleasantly. “The lock is one that releases a blast of destroying force at anyone who attempts to open it. Please tell that to the guards you leave here — I would be desolated if any of them came to harm.”
Admiration showed in Uzhur’s cunning face. “You are indeed a clever man, stranger — to have devised such a lock. Our ruler will be deeply interested in meeting one so intelligent.”
They trooped to one of the conical ships, entering by an air-lock door. The design of the craft made it evident to Curt Newton that these conical copper vessels were space-ships. Their motive power appeared to be a modified form
of electron-jets.
“Almost the same design as our ships at Antares,” muttered big Hol Jor to Curt. “These people came originally from outside the cloud, no doubt of that. Their language and ships are too similar.”
The star-rovers followed Uzhur into a cabin near the prow of the conical vessel. Uzhur spoke an order. The propulsion-mechanisms somewhere in the stern broke into humming activity, and through the small windows of the cabin they saw that they were rising. Two of the Korian ships had remained with their crews to guard the Comet. The other ten, with Uzhur’s ship leading their formation, flew rapidly westward in a steep climb.
They shot through the green sunshine over the towering copper cliffs. The cliffs were obviously a great outcrop of solid copper which had been forced up by a seismic convulsion. Many miles to the right rose a similar and parallel copper range. Between the two ranges lay a long, wide valley.
GREEN and blossoming was that valley, with rich pastures sloping down to flat expanses of cultivated land. Orchards of yellow fruit trees and fields of bright green grain were fed by irrigation ditches with water from a clear river that ran down the center of the valley. As they flew southward over the valley, Captain Future glimpsed men or women working in the tilled fields.
“This valley is cultivated by the worker class to provide food for the city of Kor,” Uzhur informed him. “Kor, which is the name of our capital as well as our world, is the largest of our cities. From it, our august master rules all this world.”
“You must visit other stars inside the cloud, do you not?” Captain Future asked. “These ships seem designed for space flights.”
Uzhur’s eyes narrowed. “It is true that we visit the worlds of the other stars here, at times,” he answered guardedly.
“Are you at war with that world Thruun which was mentioned by one of your friends?” Curt asked him.
Uzhur smiled. “We are not exactly at war with Thruun. King Larstan will tell you about that.”
“What is the origin of the strange electronic haze inside the cloud, and of the cloud itself?” Curt asked with assumed innocence.
“The king will speak with you of that also,” evaded old Uzhur. “I am not privileged to talk of these things.”
“Doesn’t want to tell anything about the Birthplace of Matter,” Curt thought keenly. “Yet he must know a lot about it. There’s something queer about it.”
After some minutes of rapid flight down the valley, old Uzhur pointed ahead. “We approach the city of Kor,” he said.
The land ended ahead, and beyond it stretched a heaving sea whose waves flashed vivid green in the brilliant rays of the sinking emerald sun. The valley between the copper ranges ran right down to the sea, and at its end along the shore was built the city of Kor.
“It is beautiful,” murmured big Hol Jor, the Antarian. “Not even at my own star is there a city more lovely.”
Magically beautiful indeed seemed Kor, glittering in the green sunset. It was a city of red metal, built of solid copper brought from the nearby ranges.
The city was semi-circular in plan. The baseline of the semi-circle was a massive sea wall which held back the tossing ocean. Just inside that wall rose an oblong copper palace, a big three-storied pile that dominated the whole city. The south facade of the palace fronted directly on the sea, and its other sides were belted with deep green gardens. From the oblong palace, a dozen wide streets radiated like the spokes of half a wheel through the smaller copper structures of the town. The lavish use of red metal gave the whole city a glittering, otherworldly glamor. The impression was heightened by the gleaming conical ships that cruised above Kor in the green sunset.
Uzhur’s smooth voice broke into the fascinated inspection of the place by Curt Newton and his comrades.
“The large building is the palace of King Larstan. We go directly there.”
Curt nodded carelessly, concealing his tense interest. “We shall be glad to meet your ruler.”
They passed over landing fields on which were parked an amazing number of the conical ships — hundreds, at least. Then they slanted down over the low, domed copper roofs of Kor toward the massive oblong red metal palace. Uzhur’s ship landed in a small court in the palace gardens, coming to rest among a dozen other ships. As the old Korian led Curt Newton and his comrades toward an entrance of the palace, the guard of Korian warriors followed closely. Other soldiers of Kor, similarly garbed in black kilts and silver breastplates, and armed with the same type of fire-rods, were drawn up outside the entrance. They saluted sharply to the old nobleman as he conducted Captain Future’s party inside.
THE star-rovers looked about them wonderingly as they passed along wide, high halls whose copper-paneled walls bore beautiful silver bas-reliefs of battle and sea-scenes. They were stared at in turn by the Korian men and women they passed. The women wore long silken gowns of brilliant hues.
“Nice looking wenches, even with those pale green skins,” remarked fat Taunus Tar appreciatively. “Now if I had a chance —”
“Forget it — we’ve worries enough without you meddling with the women here,” growled big Hol Jor.
Uzhur signaled the guards to halt, and turned to Captain Future. “If you will wait here while I inform King Larstan of your visit —”
The old noble hastened away. The stiff Korian guards kept an alert watch on Curt Newton and his comrades. In a few moments, Uzhur returned.
“The king will give you audience before the feast tonight,” he told Curt. “He bids me offer you the hospitality of Kor until then.”
Curt did not like the delay, but he assumed an air of indifference.
“It is as well — we need rest,” he answered.
Uzhur and the guards took them up a magnificent silver staircase to the topmost level of the palace. There they were conducted to a suite of large chambers in the northeast corner of the palace.
“You will be comfortable here, I hope,” the old noble said politely. “I will return later to conduct you to the king. I am leaving my guards in the corridor here, to act as your escort of honor wherever you may care to go.”
Captain Future thoroughly understood the veiled intimation that he and his comrades were prisoners. But he pretended not to.
“Your thoughtfulness overwhelms us,” he told Uzhur ironically.
With a smile, the old Korian noble left them. When the door was closed, Curt Newton turned to face his comrades.
They had been inspecting the chambers. They too were copper-paneled and decorated by fine silver bas-reliefs. The chairs, couches and tables were of fine, dark wood. The windows gave views of the palace gardens and copper roofs of Kor, and also of the sea southward. But outside the windows was a strong, close latticework of silvery metal.
“This cursed place is a trap,” swore Otho. “And we walked right into it like Martian pimul birds into a snare.”
“You’re always complaining,” Grag reproved him. “Anyway, if these green men try any tricks on us, we’ll simply blast them down.”
“I don’t like it, Captain Future,” confessed big Hol Jor. The Antarian star captain shook his head, his bluff red face uneasy.
“It was either come with them or fight at odds of ten to one,” Curt reminded them. His gray eyes gleamed. “And I wanted to come here! I want to find out what these Korians know about the Birthplace. They surely know something about it. They may even have learned from it the secret of creating matter, the secret we’re all after.
“They’ve brought us here, I’m sure, because they want to learn something from us. That’s why they’ve showed this pretended friendliness. Very well, what we must do is learn everything we can from them without telling them anything until we know just how things stand.”
“Sounds like a precarious situation, to me,” Otho muttered. “These green men are no fools.”
“I’m aware of that,” Curt nodded. “We’ll have to be careful. Let me do the talking when we’re taken to their king.”
The rasping voice
of the Brain interrupted. “Lad, I think that I could get out of here if I wished. Come here and look at this.”
Curt hurried across the chamber. The Brain indicated a small square aperture high in the copper wall — a ventilation opening from which came a constant flow of cool, scented air.
“My ‘body’ is small enough to get through that ventilation tube.” Simon declared. “Do you want me to try it?”
“Not now, Simon,” said Curt Newton rapidly. “You remain here in the chambers when the rest of us go down tonight. I’ll make excuse for you. Then try it, and if you can do it, find a way out and return. It might be a card up our sleeve in this game.”
THE brilliant green sun was sinking behind the copper range. As its last rays died away, night came quickly on the palace and city of Kor. There was no moonlight, but the darkness was relieved by the shooting radiance of the electronic haze that filled the heavens.
Light came on softly in their chambers from hidden sources. They saw many other lights blossoming in the streets of the city, and heard the dim murmur of the crowds of green people in those streets. Conical ships cruised like dark fish over the city, seemingly in watch. The door opened without warning, and old Uzhur stood on its threshold. The noble now wore brilliant jeweled belts over his dress.
“King Larstan will now grant you audience before the feast begins, strangers,” he told Curt.
Captain Future gestured toward the Brain. “My friend here does not eat, and therefore does not enjoy feasts. He wishes to remain.”
“Is he really a living being?” asked Uzhur, staring curiously at the square, transparent case of the Brain. “He looks more like an instrument or machine. But he may remain here if he wishes.”
They went back down the great silver stair with the old Korian noble, entered a hall of truly kingly dimensions. Its copper walls towered the full three levels of the palace, and it was crowded with ranks of the green Korian men and women, brilliantly garbed and jeweled. They stared with intense interest at Curt’s company.
Captain Future 09 - Quest Beyond the Stars (Winter 1942) Page 7
