Beyond The Farthest Star

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  It was not until Sagra and I were in the plane that he gave us our final instructions, and handed us credentials. He directed us to fly to a city called Pud, on the continent of Auris, and report to a man with the poetic name of Frink.

  "What will become of my plane?" I asked him.

  "What difference does it make to you?" he demanded.

  "It makes a great deal of difference to me," I snapped, for I was getting fed up with all this rudeness and secrecy. "I expect that, unquestionably, I shall be sent on missions to Unis; and if I am, I shall need my plane and my uniform."

  He eyed me suspiciously before he replied. "How could you ever return to Unis without being destroyed as a traitor?" he asked.

  "Because I used my head before I left Orvis," I replied; "I arranged to be sent out on reconnaissance flight, and I can think of a hundred excuses to explain even a long absence."

  "If you ever need your plane or your uniform," he said, "they will be here when you return."

  I breathed more freely when we rose into the clear air and left Mr. Gompth behind. His was a most depressing personality. His conversation gave the impression that he was snapping at you like an ill-natured dog, and not once while we were with him had he smiled. I wondered if all the Kapars were like that.

  In Pud we found Frink by the same devious means that we had arrived at the house of Gompth, only here there was a slight difference; we were allowed to call Frink by name, because Frink was not his name.

  We stayed overnight in Pud; and in the morning, Frink gave us Kapar clothes, and later furnished us with a Kapar plane, a very excellent plane too; and for that I was glad, as I had not been very happy crossing the Voldan Ocean from Karis to Auris in the ancient crate that Gompth had furnished us. Before us lay a flight of some two thousand miles across the Mandan Ocean from Auris to Kapara.

  The crossing was monotonous and uneventful, but after we got over Kapara, and were winging toward Ergos, we sighted a squadron of Unisan planes that were doubtless on reconnaissance. I tuned away in an effort to avoid them, but they took after us.

  The ship I was piloting was a very swift scouting plane lightly armed. There was a bow gun which I could operate and one gun in an after cockpit, which Morga Sagra could not have operated even had I wished her to. I had no intention of firing on an Unisan plane under any circumstances, and so I turned and ran.

  They chased me out across the Mandan Ocean for nearly a thousand miles before they gave up and turned back. I followed, keeping just within sight of them, until they bore to the south with the evident intention of passing around the southern end of the continent of Epris; then I opened the throttle wide and streaked for Ergos.

  When we ran down a ramp into the city, we were immediately surrounded by men in green uniforms; and an officer gruffly demanded our credentials. I told him that our instructions were to hand them to Gurrul and then he bundled us into a car, and we were driven off, surrounded by green-clad members of the Zabo, the secret police of Kapara.

  Ergos is a large city, sprawling around deep underground. We passed first through a considerable district in which there were indications of the direst poverty.

  The buildings were principally flimsy shelters and sometimes only holes in the ground, into which people scurried when they saw the green uniforms of the Zabo. But presently we came to more substantial buildings, which were all identical except in the matter of size. There was not the slightest indication of ornamentation on any of them. The ride was most uninteresting, just one monotonous mile after another until we approached the centre of the city where the buildings suddenly became rococo in their ornateness.

  The car stopped before one of the more hideous these buildings, a multi-coloured atrocity, the facade of which was covered with carved figures and designs.

  We were hustled out of the car and into the building, and a moment later we were ushered into the office of Gurrul, Chief of the Zabo, the most feared man in all Kapara.

  Chapter Three

  GURRUL WAS A GROSS MAN with a cruel mouth and close-set eyes. He scrutinized us in silence for a full minute, as though he were trying to read our in-most thoughts. He was really fixing in his mind every detail of our appearance, and he would know us again whenever or wherever he saw us and only the cleverest of disguises could deceive him. It is said of him that Gurrul knows a million people thus, but that seems to me like an exaggeration.

  He took our credentials and examined them carefully; then he asked for the military secrets I had brought from Orvis, and when I turned them over to him he glanced through them hurriedly, giving no indication of any great interest in them.

  "You flew for the enemy?" he demanded of me.

  "Yes," I replied.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Because I knew no other country than Unis," I explained.

  "Why did you turn against the country of your birth?" he asked.

  "Unis is not the country of my birth."

  "Where were you born?"

  "On another planet in another solar system millions of miles from here."

  He scowled at me fiercely and pounded his desk until everything on it danced. "You dare stand there and tell me such a lie, you fool!" he cried; "you, a filthy Unisan, dare insult my intelligence thus. Possibly you have never heard of Gurrul, you idiot. If you had, you would have cut your own throat before you came to him with such a story."

  "Most high," said Morga Sagra timidly, "I believe that he speaks the truth-everyone in Orvis believes him."

  He wheeled on her angrily. "Who told you to speak?" he snapped.

  "Forgive me, most high," she said. She was trembling all over, and I was afraid that her knees were going to give away beneath her.

  Gurrul turned to one of his lieutenants. "Have them searched and then lock them up," he ordered, and that was the end of our reception in Kapar, where they were going to receive us with open arms and load us with honours.

  My gold and jewels were taken from me, and Morga Sagra and I were locked up in a cell in the basement of the Zabo headquarters. Our cell was nothing but an iron cage, and I could see corridor after corridor of them closely packed together, and all of them appeared to have occupants, sometimes six or eight people jammed into a cage scarcely large enough for two.

  Most of our fellow prisoners whom I could see sat dejectedly on the stone floor of their cages, their heads bowed upon their chests; but there were others who gibbered and screamed, those whom torture and confinement had driven mad. When the screaming annoyed a guard too much, he would come down to the cage and turn a hose upon the screaming inmate. From the first hour that we were there, for a solid hour, one of the poor creatures screamed incessantly. One guard after another turned the hose on him, but still he screamed. Finally the head keeper came in, an officer covered with gold braid, medals, and brass buttons. He walked up to the maniac's cage and deliberately shot him through the heart. He did it as casually as one might swat a fly, and then he walked away without a backward glance.

  "You must be very happy," I said to Morga Sagra.

  "What do you mean?" she whispered.

  "You are in your beloved Kapara at last, surrounded by your dear friends."

  "Hush," she cautioned, "someone will hear you."

  "Why should I hush?" I asked. "Don't you want them to know how fond you are of them?"

  "I am fond of them," she said; "this is all a terrible mistake, but it is your fault—you never should have told that story to Gurrul."

  "You wouldn't want me to lie to the most high, would you?"

  "You must not use that tone of voice when you speak of anyone here," she whispered; "the first thing you know, you'll get us both beheaded."

  We were kept in that vile hole for a week, and almost every waking hour we expected to be taken out and destroyed. Morga Sagra was virtually a nervous wreck when, at last, they did come for us.

  Sagra was so weak from fright that the guards had to support her as we were lead along a corridor. Finally one of th
em said to her, "You have nothing to fear; you are going to be released."

  At that Sagra collapsed completely and sat down on the stone floor. The guards laughed and picked her up and practically carried her the rest of the way. They were still carrying her when I was hustled off down another corridor.

  They took me from the building through a rear doorway and put me into what looked like a big green moving van. It was so filled with humanity that they had to push me in and then slammed the doors on me quickly before I fell out. There was an iron barred window in front, and a guard with a rifle in his hand sat facing it.

  As soon as the doors were closed and locked, the truck started off, the human load swaying to and fro, trampling on each others toes and cursing beneath its breath. That was a ride to be long remembered for its discomforts.

  The heat from the men's bodies became absolutely oppressive, and the air so foul that one could scarcely breathe.

  The vehicle moved at a high rate of speed. How long we were in it, I do not know; but I should imagine about two hours, because it seemed like ten; but at last it stopped and turned around and was backed up to stop again. Then the doors were opened, and we were ordered out.

  I saw before me a very large enclosure, surrounded by a high wire fence. There were open sheds along two sides. There were several hundred men in the enclosure, and they were all dressed alike in black clothes with big white numbers across the front and back. I didn't have to be told that I was in a prison camp.

  There was sort of an office by the gate where we were taken from the truck, and here our names were entered in a book and we were given prison uniforms and numbers. Then we were ordered into the enclosure with the other prisoners. They were a filthy, emaciated lot with the most hopeless expressions I have ever seen on human faces. When I had been taken from my cell, I had felt that I was going to be beheaded, but I could conceive that this was infinitely worse.

  I had asked the officer who had checked us in why I was being imprisoned and for how long, but he had just told me to shut up and speak only when I was spoken to.

  This was a work camp, and when I say work that doesn't half describe it. We were usually employed on the hardest kind of manual labour for sixteen hours a day. There was one day of rest in every ten; it had been upon one of the rest days that I had arrived. There were both men and women in the camp, and they came from nearly every country of Poloda. We were treated just like animals, the prison clothes they gave us had to last a year; and we only had the one suit in which we worked and slept. Most of the men, and women too, were in nothing but rags. The food that was given us was indescribable. It was thrown into troughs twice a day just as food is given to hogs. Men and women both were insulted, beaten, kicked, often killed. We were not allowed to use names even among ourselves-just our numbers.

  Day and night, guards patrolled just outside the wire fence; and if they saw prisoners talking, they yelled at them to stop and sometimes they came inside and beat them. Nevertheless we did talk, for it was hard to stop us after dark; and finally I made a few friends.

  There was one who said that he came from Orvis, with whom I became quite friendly, although I knew it was dangerous, as the Kapars planted many spies in these camps. Finally, however, I came to the conclusion that this Tunzo Bor was all right, and so I asked him if he knew a man named Handon Gar.

  Immediately he was all suspicion. "No," he said, "I don't know anyone by that name. Why do you ask?"

  "I have a message for him," I replied.

  "From whom?" he asked.

  "From a friend in Orvis."

  "Well, I don't know any Handon Gar," he insisted, "and if he is here you may rest assured he is not known by that name."

  "I suppose not," I said, "but I certainly wish that I could find him, as I should like to deliver my message."

  I was sure that he was lying and that he did know Handon Gar and that it was quite possible that the man might be in this very camp, but I saw that it was useless to pursue the question further as it would only make Tunzo Bor all the more suspicious of me.

  We were worked very hard and were underfed. It seemed to me that the Kapars were very stupid; they need labour, yet they treat the men in labour camps so badly that the mortality rate is much higher than necessary. I noticed that the Kapars are always pressed for food, but they are extremely short-sighted to beat men to death for nothing or overwork them so they drop in their tracks, when these same men might be producing more food for them.

  The lot of the free workers is a little better, but not much; they are serfs, but they are not locked up in prison camps. However, they are overworked and treated cruelly, although many of them are native Kapars as well as peoples of conquered countries. The soldiers fare much better than the workers, and the members of the Zabo live well, for everyone is afraid of them; even the army officers and those highly placed politically live little better, though they live off the fat of the land, if there is any fat in Kapara.

  After a week of hard labour and poor food, I was given an easy job, working in the garden of the officer in charge of the camp. An armed guard always accompanied me and remained with me while I worked. He did not abuse me, nor did any of the guards in the prison compound. I was even given good food occasionally from the officer's kitchen. I could not understand it, but I was afraid to ask any questions, but finally the guard himself volunteered some information.

  "Who are you, anyway?" he demanded.

  "I am No. 267M9436," I replied.

  "No," he said; "I mean what is your name?"

  "I thought we weren't supposed to use any names," I reminded him.

  "If I tell you to, you can," he said.

  "Well, my name is Korvan Don," I replied.

  "Where are you from?"

  "Orvis."

  He shook his head. "I can't understand it," he said.

  "Understand what?" I asked.

  "Why orders have been given that you shall be treated so much better than the other prisoners," he explained; "and they come straight from Gurrul, too."

  "I'm sure I don't know," I replied, but I had an idea that it might be because Gurrul was still investigating me and might be coming to the conclusion that I could be of value to the Kapars. I knew perfectly well that I wasn't being treated this way because of any humanitarian reasons.

  Chapter Four

  WHEN THE SKY IS NOT OVERCAST, the Polodan nights are gorgeous in the extreme. There is a constant procession of planets passing across the heavens, following each other in stately procession throughout the night; and thus clear nights are quite well lighted, especially by the nearer planets.

  It was on such a clear night, about three weeks after I had been brought to the prison camp, that a fellow prisoner came close to me and whispered, "I am Handon Gar."

  I scrutinized him very closely to see if I could recognize him from the description given me by the Commissioner for War.

  This man was terribly emaciated and looked like an old man, but gradually I recognized him. He must have been subjected to the cruellest of treatment during the two years that he had been here.

  "Yes," I said presently, "I recognize you."

  "How can you recognize me?" he demanded, instantly suspicious; "I do not know you, and you never knew me. Who are you, and what do you want?"

  "I recognized you from the description given me by the Commissioner for War," I explained. "I know that you are Handon Gar, and that I can trust you. My name is Tangor; I am know here as Korvan Don. I was sent here on a mission by the Eljanhai and the Commissioner for War," I continued in a low whisper, "and was instructed to ascertain what your fate had been."

  He smiled sourly. "And now you are in the same boat as I; I'm afraid they'll never learn what became of either of us."

  "Is Tunzo Bor all right?" I asked.

  "Yes, but he suspected you. However, I did too, but I couldn't see how I could be any worse off if I told you my name. I do not recall ever having heard yours. Where did you live in Unis,
and what did you do?"

  "I lived in Orvis and was a pilot in the fighting service."

  "It is strange that I never met you," he said, and I could see that he was becoming suspicious again.

  "It is not so strange," I said; "I am sure that I know only a very few of the thousands of pilots in the service; one could not know them all. Do you know Harkas Don?"

  "Yes, indeed, very well," he replied

  "He is my best friend," I said.

  He was silent for some time, and then he said, "How are Don's brothers?"

  "He hasn't any," I replied; "they have all been killed in the war."

  "And his sisters?" he asked.

  "He only has one sister," I replied; "Yamoda. I saw her the night before I left. She had had an accident, but she is all right now."

  "Well," he said, "if you know these people so intimately, you must be all right. You know we have to be careful here."

  "Yes, I understand," I replied.

  Again he was silent for a few moments, and then he leaned closer to me and whispered, "We are going to make a break in a few days; Tunzo Bor and I and a couple of others. We have it all planned. Do you want to come along?"

  "I can't," I replied; "I haven't fulfilled my mission yet."

  "You can't fulfil it while you're in a work camp," he said, "and you'll never get out. You might just as well make a break with us. If we get back to Orvis, I'll explain to the Eljanhai that I advised you to escape while there was a chance."

  "No, thanks," I replied, "I shall get out of here."

  "You seem very sure," he said, and I noticed that he looked at me peculiarly, and I had a feeling that he already regretted telling me what he had. I was about to try to reassure him, when a guard ordered us to stop talking.

  A couple of days later, which was a rest day, a guard called to me to come over to the wire fence, and there I found Morga Sagra awaiting me. It was quite unusual for prisoners to be allowed to have visitors, and I could see that it aroused a great deal of interest and comment in the compound.