Outside, on a platform that served as landing pad, a dozen technicians rushed to prepare for the spaceship’s arrival. Meanwhile, a colorful throng of men and women, dressed in various attires, from military to casual, had emerged from the buildings to watch the much-awaited event.
All those who had known Leo Saint-Clair personally had passed away long ago; the man had become a legend for the denizens of Rhea. His return was by far the most important event ever in the history of the colony.
“Landing Pad, are you ready?” asked Mitang in the control room.
“We’re standing by,” replied one of the technicians, speaking into the microphone connected to his helmet.
In the control room, the monitor screen showed the Olb-I starting its descent.
“Engage guidance beam, Monsieur Pilou,” said Mitang. “And tell them to correct their trajectory by three degrees.”
“Guidance beam engaged. Trajectory corrected.”
Slowly, majestically, like a tennis ball on top of an invisible water sprout, the Olb-I appeared, first as a small dot in the sky, then growing larger and larger as it approached the ground. Its shape was roughly that of an old-fashioned rocket, 40 meters tall and 10 meters wide. Inside, it contained two large cabins, the bridge, a recreation room, and four storage rooms. A crew of six could live comfortably in it for a year. Leo and Giselle had been its sole passengers for over two years.
“The ship’s in position, Monsieur le Maire,” confirmed Pilou.
“Prepare to land.”
The Olb-I delicately settled onto the landing pad, its three fins fitting snuggly inside the gantries. The waiting crowd became even more excited, with people jostling each other to get a better view.
Akira Mitang came out of the control tower, followed by two officers in full French Army colonial uniforms, each carrying a garland of flowers.
“Please let us through,” said the Mayor, politely pushing his way through the crowd.
As they reached the edge of the Landing Pad, Mitang turned to his first officer, a tall man with dark hair, blue eyes, and a noble bearing.
“Monsieur de Ciserat,” asked the Mayor of Olbansville, “is the Orchestra ready?”
“Of course, Monsieur.” Ciserat turned to a makeshift orchestra which had stood patiently to the side, and waved his hand. “You may begin, gentlemen.”
The Orchestra began playing the Marseillaise just as Leo Saint-Clair and Gisèle d’Holbach emerged from the ship, being carried to the ground on a small elevator platform, which rose up again after having deposited its two passengers.
For such an important occasion, Leo had chosen to wear formal attire, consisting of a black silk jacket, pants, white shirt and tails. He thought he looked like his father, when the latter had been received at the Court of Tsar Alexander III in Moscow in 1892.
Gisèle, by contrast, wore a modern black overall with belts and many pockets, of the type favored by the agents of her service.
Once on the ground, the Nyctalope raised his arm to salute the crowd, which went wild at the sight.
“Thank you, my friends! Thank you very much!” he said. Then proudly turning towards Gisèle, he added: “Welcome to Rhea, my dear. The most wonderful planet in the universe!”
At that moment, Akira arrived and gestured to the officers to place the garlands over their honored guests’ head.
“I’m Akira Mitang, Mayor of this settlement, Monsieur Saint-Clair. I’m honored beyond words to welcome you back to Olbansville.”
Leo extended a warm hand shake to the man he immediately recognized as the descendent of his long-time friend, Gnô Mitang.
“The honor is all mine, Akira. And please call me Leo. This lady is Gisèle d’Holbach, my trusted companion.”
“Mademoiselle,” said Akira, bowing deeply.
“This is… all so… amazing,” said the young woman.
Gisèle hadn’t stopped mentally pinching herself since they had landed. She had just set foot on an alien world—it was a mind-blowing concept. She was actually standing on a planet about to leave the Solar System. This was such an awesome experience that she could hardly contain her excitement. When she watched Leo, and how he took everything in stride, as if it was no big deal for him—and indeed, perhaps it was—she realized with a pang how much of a gulf separated them—and not only years.
It was one thing to accept that the man who had become her lover was born in 1877; it was another to realize that he had walked on alien worlds a long time before she was a mote in her grandparents’ eyes!
Sensing his companion’s sense of displacement, Leo took her hand and squeezed it to comfort her.
Meanwhile, Akira introduced his aide-de-camp:
“This is Monsieur Marc de Ciserat, my First Officer; he is ready to give you a tour of the colony.”
The Nyctalope understood right away that this was the ideal pretext for Mitang to have a private conversation with him, and also to relieve Gisèle of her stress, so he enthusiastically supported the suggestion.
“That’s an excellent idea, Akira. Ma chérie, go with Monsieur de Ciserat. This is your first time on Rhea; you should enjoy yourself. You don’t mind, do you, Ciserat?”
“Not at all! It will be my pleasure, Monsieur!” said the officer, saluting.
Then, after Gisèle had gone with the young officer, Leo turned to the Mayor and asked:
“So what is it, Akira. Why have you called me back after so many years?”
“I’m very sorry, great Nyctalope, but we’ve detected intruders in the northern hemisphere.”
“Intruders? You don’t mean…?”
“Yes. Intruders from Earth. And just before you arrived, there was a disturbing incident. We detected a small anti-matter explosion somewhere in the great northern desert, near the pole.”
“What!” exclaimed Leo.
“We don’t yet know the cause, but our scientists think it might affect the engines that propel Rhea...”
“Damn!” The Nyctalope raised his arm and addressed the crowd. “May I have your attention? I’m deeply touched by your warm welcome, but you must all return to your stations—at once!” Then, he added for the Mayor’s ears: “You did well to summon me back, Akira. We’d best not rush to any hasty conclusions, but this looks serious indeed!”
Chapter III.
A Gathering of Schemers
Since the Earthmen had first visited Rhea in 1935, the Nocturnals had made great progress. The intervention of the Nyctalope had enabled a lasting peace to be built between them and their brethren, the Diurnals, who existed in a loose confederation of far-flung cities on the surface of the planetoid.
The Nocturnals, on the other hand, were gregarious creatures. With the help of the Earthmen, they had unified and gathered in ever-growing cities located in the night-dark caverns of the planet. Being more technologically-minded than their surface cousins, they had taken to scientific progress like a fish to water. One of the theories popular amongst the French colonists was that the Nocturnals were descended not from the servants of the mysterious race who had built Rhea, as had been originally believed, but might well be the degenerated descendents of the Builders themselves. If so, the reason why they had devolved remained a mystery.
As the decades passed, the Nocturnals had further congregated to create their first capital, the great city of Qotwaa, located in the northern hemisphere, inside a gigantic network of interlinked caverns. The city itself managed to look both futuristic, yet strangely medieval at the same time. In the largest cave was the palace of its undisputed ruler, King Kkal. He was tall and hulkish; even amongst ape-men, his stature inspired respect—and fear.
Deep below the palace was Kkal’s inner sanctum and secret laboratory, where he was presently pacing, surrounded by his two faithful retainers, the equally tall but lanky Chamberlain Ddôl and the short and rotund Chief Scientist Ppy, whose head was shaped like the top of a mushroom and who wore a small magnifying glass slide attached to the top of his skull in fr
ont of his eyes (instead of Earth glasses).
There was a strange pattern on the floor; a glowing ball of light hovered directly above it.
Kkal interrupted his pacing around the pattern and, followed by Ddôl, headed towards a dais, which supported a column of light and where a makeshift console on the side was attended by the frantic Ppy.
“What’s going on, Ppy?” asked Kkal.
“I think I finally succeeded in damaging the control sphere, O Great King,” replied Ppy.
“Really? Show me.”
Ppy turned a wheel and depressed a lever on his console. Images of the strange insect that had penetrated Claude Marécourt’s converter began to appear and the scene unfolded to show the fateful explosion.
“Our little saboteur did a good job,” said Kkal, grinning. “Manipulating that young human into causing the explosion was a stroke of genius, even if I do say so myself. The accursed force field that protects Rhea’s Core and its great engines still stands, but now it should be vulnerable to our ally’s magic…”
Kkal turned around and shouted: “Vôo! Where are you, Vôo?”
Ppy looked frightened, and even Ddôl’s usually inexpressive face showed some apprehension. “Vôo” was the name of the Master of the Nine Hells in the legends told to children when they were small. The fact that their new ally had introduced himself under that name still caused them not a little discomfort.
Suddenly, a tall, humanoid figure, dressed all in red, and wearing a silver mask shaped like a demon skull to cover his face, emerged from the glowing ball of light.
“I’m here, Kkal,” said Vôo, materializing.
“Are you ready? I can’t wait to access the Core. The power of the great engines will make me master of Rhea!”
“We can but try.”
A beam of violet light issued from Vôo’s mask and hit the pattern on the floor. Kkal, Ddôl and Ppy looked on with interest—the latter, however, with much concern contorting his face.
Slowly, a warp opened in the pattern and pure, white light, almost insupportable for human eyes, appeared. Ppy’s “glasses” became dark and he handed two identical protective eye-coverings to his partners, who put them on.
“Rhea’s Core,” said Kkal, awe-struck.
Suddenly, there was a spark, followed by an explosion. The white light was replaced by a huge burst of flame which almost hit Ppy, who jumped back, screaming.
The lights in the cave died.
“I have failed,” said Vôo, matter-of-factedly.
“By the horn of Ggorn!” muttered Kkal. Then, turning towards the frightened scientist. He barked: “The lights! Turn on the emergency lights!”
Ppy rushed to obey, scrambling maniacally over his console. As the lights returned, Kkal, followed by Ddôl, climbed from the dais and walked towards Vôo.
“What good is it to ally myself with you, stranger, if you can’t deliver what you promised?” he spat. “You told me you could break through the force field that protects the Core!”
“True, I can. But the field is strong. I require more time.”
“I don’t have more time! Olbansville’s imperial rule has already gone on for too long. And now, the Nyctalope has returned. But soon, that sanctimonious, self-appointed ‘King of the Night’ will learn that I, Kkal, King of the Nocturnals, have decreed that his reign is over!”
“I hate the Nyctalope too—more than you can ever imagine—but I must advise caution. Great king. I know Leo Saint-Clair. To defeat him will require subtlety. But I know I will eventually triumph.”
“You’d better,” spat Kkal, walking towards an elevator. “I’ve sworn to free this world from French colonial domination, and I’ll let no one stand in my way.”
Ppy rushed to catch up with his master. Together, the three ape-men entered the elevator, which went up.
Vôo was alone in the cavern. From behind his mask issued an evil, contemptuous chuckle.
“Ha! Kkal is a fool. The secret of Rhea’s engines shall belong to me, and me alone. I will kill the Nyctalope and destroy that pathetic, puny world of his. I, Lucifer, will be victorious at last!”
Then, he vanished as he had appeared, with only the small glowing ball of light remaining behind as a silent witness to his presence.
Chapter IV
Gisèle’s Curiosity
In the Control Center in Olbansville, the Nyctalope had taken command, sitting in the controller’s chair, the loyal Akira Mitang standing by his side.
Before them were half a dozen large screens and consoles manned by operators.
“Summon our agent in Choon Ya, Monsieur Pilou,” said Akira. Then, he explained to the Nyctalope: “That is the Diurnal village closest to where we detected the anti-matter explosion. Perhaps they’ll know something. I’d like to hear his report.”
The Console Operators below busied themselves at their machines. Suddenly, the giant screens filled with static, then the image of a wizened Diurnal appeared. His face was covered with ritual tattoos that indicated his mastery of the most arcane rituals of his race, and his appurtenance to five of the planet’s seven major clans. Like all his brethren, he had big almond-shaped blue eyes with gold pupils, but no eyelids or eyebrows.
“His name is Jaffa M’Deni,” whispered Akira in Leo’s ear.
“Ah, my good Jaffa! Tell me: how are things in Choon Ya and the Great Northern Desert?”
“Diffidently, your Overlordship,” replied the old Diurnal. “The blondels are a bit prostive at this time of the year.”
“Forget the blondels,” said Leo. “Have you noticed anything unusual in your region?”
“No, your Overlordship, I forebode nothing.”
“Yet, Olbansville has just detected an anti-matter explosion near your village. Surely...”
“A what, your Overlordship?” interrupted Jaffa.
“A... A big white light…” said Leo, frustrated.
“Ah! The breath of the gods!” said the bat-man.
“Yes. The breath of the gods. Surely, you must have noticed something of the sort?”
“No, not a wobble, your Overlordship.”
Leo sighed.
“Very well. Remain alert and notify Olbansville immediately should anything unusual occur.”
Jaffa M’Deni bowed his head, and disappeared from the screen.
“Now,” said Leo, “let’s contact your agent with the Nocturnals. I never fully trusted those hairy deviants…”
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the colony, Marc de Ciserat was still with Gisèle, continuing their tour. They reached a semi-spherical, steel-grey building, and stood in front of a large set of double metal doors.
“This is our Map Room,” said Marc, opening the door.
The young officer turned on the light. The room was empty except for a giant, three-dimensional model of Rhea, and several miniature projectors, which constantly updated the features of the globe. All were connected by cables to intricate machinery on the ceiling.
Watching the globe, the color of gold and burnished brass, slowly rotate before her eyes, Gisèle could not help but express both admiration and curiosity.
“This… is Rhea?” she asked.
“Indeed, it is, Mademoiselle,” said Marc. “Or rather, a constantly updated projection of the real thing.”
The young officer typed a command on a small control panel keyboard.
“Let me demonstrate.”
The hologram appeared to fragment, then expand, enabling the viewer to have a closer look at the planet.
“Rhea is one-sixth the size of Earth,” commented Marc. “As you can see, it’s mostly a desert, buffered by strong winds circling the planet. There are a number of interconnected lakes and rivers centered, as you can see, mostly around the Equator. Most of the water here lies underground. There are no tall mountains to speak of, only rugged hills, and tundra-like plains and deserts. There is a forestry belt near the Equator, where the first expedition landed. This is where we are: Olbansville…” Marc pointed to
wards a dot on the map, then at the neighboring region. “These forests are mostly composed of very tall trees which look like yellow poplars. They’re inhabited by a native species of bird called blondels… There are few animals on Rhea… Certainly no farm or industrial animals… This, here, is Suwa Jem, the first village of Diurnals we encountered, and a little to the south, near the edge of the forest, under that mountain range, is Chunda, where we first made contact with the Nocturnals…”
“What about the natives?” inquired Gisèle.
“There are two races of Rheans: the bat-like humanoids we call Diurnals, who live on the surface in villages spread around the equator. They’re artistic and peaceful, and like to trade between their city-states. Before the Nyctalope arrived, they were often attacked by the Nocturnals, a gorilla-like species who live underground in vast networks of caves located under the hills in both the northern and southern hemispheres. But the Nyctalope made peace between the two species and made them sign a Treaty. Today, the Nocturnals have unified in a sort of loose confederation ruled from here…” continued Marc, pointing at a dot in the northern hemisphere, “…Qotwaa.”
“Why were they at war?”
“The Nocturnals are more like engineers or scientists, if you will. Their underground cities are quite impressive to visit, especially since there is no fire on Rhea and virtually no metal, so everything has to be manufactured from clay and chemicals. But they have no art, no music, no culture, so they would kidnap the artistically-minded Diurnals for their own entertainment.”
“How revolting!”
“Well, that’s all in the past now. Besides, the Diurnals are daysiders and the Nocturnals nightsiders, so they cohabit and trade, but they don’t visit each other very much.”
“What do you mean by daysiders and nightsiders?”
“You hay have noticed during your approach that Rhea is protected by a force field that keep its atmosphere in, and deadly space radiation out. That field also provides a circadian rhythm as half of it radiates light during the “day” and rotates around the planet every 18 hours. Thus we have short days of nine hours. On the other side of Rhea, the field is transparent and enables us to watch the stars and experience night.”
The Return of the Nyctalope Page 22
