by Anthology
A long bar of metal caught his eye. He seized it, and with all his strength thrust upward at one of the ceiling windows. But the thick glass, crisscrossed by rods of metal, was not easily shattered.
A rattling noise attracted his attention. He glanced back toward the trap. His pile of ingots was trembling as if shaken by a miniature earthquake. The door was rising upward! It settled back and rose again. An inch crack appeared, and through it Shelby could see two eyes and the muzzle of a pistol. He leaped out of range just in time to avoid the bullet that whizzed across the room and flattened itself against the wall.
He darted around toward the hinged side of the trap, where he knew that the black horror could not fire at him, and devoted his attention to another window. He would have reinforced the barricade with more ingots, but he realized that by spending his nearly exhausted strength that way he would be defeating his own purpose.
A dozen times he jabbed up viciously with the bar before a tiny crack appeared in the round pane of glass. The trapdoor behind him was being shaken violently. An ingot on top of the pile was jarred from its place and crashed to the floor. Yes, the window was giving. A small hole appeared in it.
A pair of shiny black forearms had forced their way from under the edge of the trapdoor. Slowly and mightily the shoulders of the monster surged upward. The door was rising, and this time it did not seem that it would sink back.
Shelby had finished his task. Now, with the upper end of the bar thrust through the opening he had made in the window, and the lower end resting in a slight depression in the floor, he proceeded to climb it to safety. His head and shoulders were through the hole when the monster at last burst its way into the room below. But the thing was just an instant too late to hinder him.
Sweating and bloody, Shelby drew himself to the roof and staggered over to the landing stage. Yes, his plane was there.
The night air, and the flush of success was refreshing him. His exaltation leaped higher and higher as his plane swept him up from the summit of the tower of the mysterious Selba.
A wild refrain was drumming in his mind: "Hekalu Selba is dead! I have killed him!" There was nothing more to do but notify the Municipal Air Patrol—an S. O. S. with his siren would accomplish that. They would raid the tower. If any of the Martian's fellow plotters sought to continue with the project the Earthman's new weapon would take care of them.
Shelby was reaching for the siren button, and then a terrific explosion thundered up from somewhere below, and several hundred yards to his right. He saw the orange flash, and then, in an instant the whole city went dark. Another crash came and another. Shelby saw a dark form glide through the air. From far beneath him he heard a troubled murmur mixed with the din of colliding vehicles. Sirens shrieked. In the distance to his right, a great plume of lurid flame blossomed in the sky.
The low purr of a machine gun sounded behind him, and he heard the almost inaudible tick-tick of poisoned needle-darts piercing the fuselage of his craft.
He zoomed sharply upward for a thousand feet, and then glanced back. There was a dim shadow out there—he was being followed. But this discovery, and the realization that the city was attacked made but a vague impression upon his fast-dimming mind. The warm fluid that oozed from his shoulder, making his clothing sodden and sticky, had all but drained his vital energy.
Somehow he began to doubt that he had killed Selba. It had been only a dream, and the monstrous thing that had sought his life had been a dream too. Hekalu was pursuing him now, trying to kill him! The idea took hold, for he could no longer distinguish fancy from reality. It brought to him a vague fear which would have been completely out of place with him had he not been so near gone from loss of blood. It was like a child's fear of the dark.
He began to fly towards home in a wild zigzag course like a dazed bat, but this favored him, for it enabled him to avoid the darts from the pursuing plane. Luckily he remembered that while under fire combat fliers do not make use of their automatic pilots except as a last resort, for these devices cannot direct the complex movements necessary in dodging enemy bullets. Automatically Shelby watched the guiding instruments and followed their directions.
Several times he signaled with his siren, but no one answered him. Thousands of sirens were hooting, and the Air Patrol was very busy. The darkness, the explosions and the muffled roar from the streets continued.
Two ideas now possessed Shelby's mind and he clung to them with the grim persistence of a wounded tiger. One was to get home, secure his weapon and rush it to the federal authorities. The other was to hurry to Janice Darell.
Presently his plane bounded down awkwardly on the landing platform of the building in which his apartment was located. He stumbled out, and down the dark stair. The elevators were not working. Somehow he found his door and unlocked it. He groped toward the wall safe. It was open, and the little black case which contained the unfinished atomic ray projector was gone. A neat round hole had been drilled in the metal door of the safe.
The view-phone bell was ringing. Shelby stumbled to the instrument and moved its switches. The view-plate did not work but he heard a faint voice which he recognized as Jan's. "Is that you, Austin?" it said. "Can't you help me? Something is out there. It has me cornered in my room. It has killed old Rufus. The house police—" There the connection snapped.
A wild surge of anger quickened the engineer's weakly beating heart. He tried to reach the door, and then he felt a stinging sensation in the back of his neck. A needle-dart charged with a sleep-producing drug had struck him. He slumped to the floor.
A moment later a thing of metal and fabric, fitted with drills and delicate thread-like tentacles, and formed like a giant Sadu moth of Mars, darted out from behind a curtain where it had been hiding. It flew up through the air-tube which had been its means of entrance to the room. On the roof it met a black nightmare, and by means of signs traced in the air with an intelligence that was paradoxically human, it directed the monster to Shelby's apartment below.
The first sensation which bore itself in upon Shelby's consciousness when he was regaining his senses was a terrific throbbing pain in his head. He opened his rheum-plastered eyelids and looked about him. He was lying in a bunk within a small dim-lit compartment. Polished duralumin walls gleamed all about. At the center of his prison was a table, and beyond, built into the opposite wall, was another bunk. There was a black blob of something sprawling on the mattress, but he could not see clearly what it was. The illumination globe in the ceiling was not burning, and only a faint glow filtered through the curtained, circular window. A muffled purring vibration told Shelby that he was aboard a speeding space ship.
Aroused evidently by the stirring of its charge, the thing in the opposite berth arose and strode leisurely toward the Earthian. The metal of its harness tinkled, and sharp points of light flashed against its ebony body, like gems sewn into a sable curtain that is being swayed by a vagrant draft of air.
The Earthman recognized the creature immediately as his recent pursuer. It had pressed the light switch now, and the illumination globe glowed softly. Then the thing bent over Shelby, and with a gentleness that was surprising, it rolled him over and examined his bandaged wound briefly.
The young man conquered his revulsion sufficiently to look up into the monster's face. He thought that it was odd that the sight of it did not terrify him. No, really it was not more hideous than the visages of insects he had seen through a microscope. He studied the hard chitinous visors that blinked over the monster's eyes—the hollow where its nose should have been; and he searched for some hint that there was a human personality within that knotted carcass but found none. The lipless mouth and the blankly staring eyes were without any expression that he could interpret.
Two things struck Shelby as being peculiar—the fact that the monster did not seem to breathe, and the icy coldness of its hands.
The thing walked to the door, unlocked it, and left the room. The engineer heard a grating of the key
being turned when the door had been shut.
Taking advantage of the opportunity to move about without being observed, he jumped out of bed and hurried to the window. It was then that he noticed that there was a metal band about his right ankle. A long light chain led from it to an eyelet in the wall. Truly he was a prisoner!
A single glance through the porthole confirmed what he had known was true—the black sky and the unwinking stars of space.
There was a narrow walk beneath the window, running the full length of the flier's hull. The railing of woven wire cast a checkered shadow on the walk. Somewhere toward the stern a blazing sun was shining, but Shelby could not see it.
His first thoughts concerned some means of spoiling the plans of Selba's band. He guessed, of course, that they were responsible for his present position, and he realized that it was likely that the zero hour of their attack upon the planets was not far off. Could he escape?—a practical impossibility.
Nevertheless he looked longingly at the emergency space-boat hugging close to the hull of its mother ship, and fitted so admirably into her streamlining. If he could get to the entrance of that boat—it was in some other room farther toward the bow—he could give his captors a run for their money and perhaps reach Earth. And if he did? Shelby had great confidence in the Atomic Ray. He removed the top from the button where he had secreted the pink crystal. It was still there.
But how could he get into the space-boat? Plainly it could not be accomplished now. Perhaps soon—in a few hours maybe, an opportunity would present itself. And there were other things he might do. A moment in the engine room, and he could blow the ship to atoms, and with it, most of the ringleaders of the Selba crowd. Stoically Shelby realized that he too would be destroyed, but if he could serve his world, he would not hesitate to make the move.
Bent on getting as well acquainted with his present environment as he could, the Earthman proceeded to examine minutely everything that was within the range of his senses. He tested the strength of his chain, and began to fumble over each link, without having any definite idea of what value the knowledge gleaned from such a procedure would be to him.
He had reached about the tenth link when he heard a sound above the purr of rocket motors—voices. There were two of them. One was a man's; the other was soft and feminine. Shelby knew it at once—Janice Darell's! So she too was aboard the space flier! He realized it with a pang of apprehension. In vain the Earthman tried to catch the words they were saying, but beyond detecting the chilly tone in the girl's voice, he could get no idea of what they were talking about. Apparently they were in the room next to his.
He heard footsteps in the hall outside, and returned quickly to his bunk. Three people entered the room. The first was the black monster. Shelby gave a gasp when he saw who followed it—Jan. She looked tired and worn but in her face there was no hint of fear. She smiled wanly at Shelby. There was another behind her. It was Hekalu Selba—the man the Earthian thought he had killed! For once Shelby was really dumbfounded. He uttered the Martian's name without thinking.
The noble grinned in Satanic amusement. "It is I, none other, my friend," he said. "Aren't you glad to see me? You look as though you were being visited by a ghost."
The Martian chuckled. "But thanks to a breast armor I still belong to this plane of existence. I admit though that you gave me a great scare when you nearly, but not quite, escaped. My four bombing fliers supplied an adequate diversion for the Municipal Patrol, didn't they? And my Sadu moth, radio controlled automaton—it functioned perfectly!"
Shelby rose from the bunk and sauntered toward his captor. Hekalu made no move to stop him. "Now that you have Miss Darell and me nicely trapped, what do you intend to do?" Shelby inquired coldly.
The Martian laughed. "You have a very inquisitive nature, Mr. Shelby," he said. "What do you expect me to do? Continue with my plans which you so almost successfully spoiled, my friend." Here Hekki's voice became suddenly excited and husky; his lips curled and his eyes took on the fanatical look of a megalomaniac who sees within his grasp his dream of power.
"Very soon," he lisped, "we strike. Mars first, then your planet. I shall be great—greater than all the combined rulers of the millenniums gone by, and Janice here, will share my greatness." The slender arm of Selba stole around the waist of the girl beside him. She did not try to draw away. "That last little idea maddens you, doesn't it, Mr. Shelby?" he added with a sneer.
Shelby felt a flush of heat in his cheeks. What happened to Jan that she should permit the noble to be so familiar with her? Had she been dazzled by his wealth and his promises of what stupendous things the future would bring? For a fraction of a second something seemed to let go in the Earthman's mind, and then he saw the fleeting look in the girl's eyes. He checked the impulse that had urged him to send a fist crashing into the face of the smirking noble. Certainly such an act of violence could accomplish no good.
Shelby looked at the black monster. It was standing beside the table, and leaned forward, so that its knuckles rested ape-like upon the floor. It was gazing narrowly at the Martian, and its mouth opened and closed nervously. There was a faint something in its almost blank face which suggested to the Earthman that the bond of friendship between the Prince of Selba and this weird devil of the void was none too strong.
Hekalu withdrew his arm from about the girl. He nodded toward the bejeweled nightmare. "I had almost forgotten my lieutenant here, Mr. Shelby," he said. "He is the ruler of the empire from which I am recruiting my forces—my chief ally. Since his people do not employ a language of sounds, he has no vocal name; but for the sake of convenience I have christened him Alkebar, which means 'The Unknown.' He was my companion on my recent trip to Earth, for he wanted very much to see what a beautiful place is your world." There was a sinister hint in these last words.
Hekki made a few quick signs to Alkebar with his fingers, and then turned to the girl. "I must ask you two to leave us now, Jan," he said. "Mr. Shelby and I have an important matter to discuss."
Alkebar grasped Janice's arm with a horny paw, and hurried her through the door. But nevertheless Shelby caught a fleeting glimpse of her face as her lips formed, but did not utter, the word—"Wait." Hekki did not see.
The Earthman turned upon the Martian. "I am going to usurp your assumed right to start this little private conversation, Akar Hekalu," he told him. "There is only one thing I have to say. You are a noble, the son of a long line of nobles who righted wrongs and avenged insults on the field of honor. You have wronged me, no you have outraged me. Therefore I challenge you to combat. Choose your weapons. No place will suit me better than this room; no time better than now." But if Austin had expected to nettle Hekalu into a mood for fighting, he was disappointed.
The Martian was smiling mockingly. "Life is sweet," he said, "sweeter to me than it has ever been before. I do not wish to die—not even by your hands. And you—you have certain knowledge and information which is valuable to me. You must live. I was going to talk to you about what you know. That weapon of yours—we are working on a projector. But something is evidently missing—a tiny element."
"What you have learned about the Atomic Ray," Shelby cut in, "you learned through your own efforts. If you can steal the remainder of the necessary information from my brain, you are welcome. Otherwise, I urgently invite you to go to the devil."
Hekki's face assumed a look of infinite though make-believe sadness. It was a trick such as a designing woman might use to attract some desirable male.
"I am sorry to hear you talk so, Mr. Shelby," he said. "But as you suggest, I believe that there are ways of stealing knowledge even from your mind. For instance, in an old vault beneath my palace at Taboor, I once found a sealed vat containing a certain fluid. The Ancient Ones were wise, for when they desired any man to talk, they thrust his arms or his legs, or perchance his whole body into the fluid. Very slowly, and with some discomfort, it ate away the tissue of his nerves. I must leave you now, my friend. Think well, an
d may the gods that rule the universe guide you on the right course."
He opened the door. Shelby caught a glimpse of a long hall, and at the far end, the bewildering maze of control-room equipment. The panel closed.
Chapter V
The Race Through Space
Immediately the Earthman set himself to the task of examining everything in his prison. But as he had expected, there was little or nothing to discover. The walls which his tether permitted him to reach were all perfectly smooth and solid. He realized with a sheepish grin that it had been foolish of him to even dare to hope that they would be otherwise. The chain fastened to the fetter was quite adequate to hold him. The window, even if it might have been used as an avenue of escape, was securely fastened with bolts, so that it would have taken a man equipped with a heavy set of wrenches, an hour to remove it. To shatter the flexible pane was next to an impossibility. The table was firmly welded to the floor. Beyond the table, Shelby could not go, for the chain prevented him. But he was quite sure that there was nothing movable in the entire room massive enough to be used as a tool or weapon.
He slumped down on his bunk, and let one hand rest on a small power-pipe which ran along the wall and up to the illumination globe above. For a minute dejection almost got a firm grip on him. But he fought it off. This was no time to give up. Why, the struggle hadn't even started yet!
Shelby felt a faint vibration of the power-pipe under his hand. For a considerable time the impressions had been coming to him, but they had scarcely penetrated into his consciousness. They seemed no more significant than the hundred and one little noises and disturbances that go with the running of any space ship. Presently however, the regular sequence of the pulsations attracted his attention. Something made him think of the almost obsolete Morse code. Then the realization came to him. Someone in another room on he ship was tapping on the power-pipe—signaling—signaling him! He spelled the word out—A-u-s-t-i-n, repeated over and over again.
