The Black Flame

by Stanley G. Weinbaum

  That had made of Algeria and Tripoli fertile countries, and by the increased surface for evaporation, it had changed even the climate of the distant Arabian Desert.

  And there was Eartheye on the summit of skypiercing Everest, the great observatory whose objective mirror was a spinning pool of mercury a hundred feet across, and whose images of stellar bodies were broadcast to students around the world. In this gigantic mirror, Betelgeuse showed a measurable disc, the moon was a pitted plain thirty yards away, and even Mars glowed cryptically at a distance of only two and a half miles.

  Connor learned that the red planet still held its mystery. The canals had turned out to be illusion, but the seasonal changes still argued life, and a million tiny markings hinted at some sort of civilization.

  "But they've been to the moon," Evanie said, continuing the discussion as they got under way again.

  "There's a remnant of life there, little crystalline flowers that the great ladies of Urbs sometimes wear.

  Moon orchids; each one worth a fortune."

  "I'd like to give you one some day," murmured Connor.

  "Look, Tom!" Evanie cried sharply. "A Triangle!"

  He saw it in the radiance of early dawn. It was in fact a triangle with three girders rising from its points to an apex, whence the blast struck down through the open center. At once he realized the logic of the construction, for it could neither tip nor fall while the blast was fed.

  How large? He couldn't tell, since it hung at an unknown height. It seemed enormous, at least a hundred feet on a side. And then a lateral blast flared, and it moved rapidly ahead of them into the south.

  "Were they watching us, do you suppose?" Evanie asked tensely. "Butof course not! I guess I'm just nervous. Look, Tom, there's Kaatskill, a suburb of the City."

  The town was one of magnificent dwellings and vast lawns.

  "Kaatskill!" mused Connor. "The home of Rip van Winkle."

  Evanie did not get the meaning of that. "If he lives in Kaatskill I never heard of him," she said. "It is a place where many wealthy Sleepers have settled to enjoy their wealth."

  The road widened suddenly, then they topped the crest of a hill. Connor's eyes widened in astonishment as the scene unfolded.

  A valley lay before them and, cupped in the hills as in the palm of a colossal hand, lay such a hive of mammoth buildings that for a moment reason refused to accept it. Urbs! Connor knew instantly that only the world capital could stretch in such reaches across to the distant blue hills beyond.

  He stared at skypiercing structures, at tiered streets, at the curious steel web where a monorail car sped like a spider along its silken strand.

  "There! Urbs Minor!" whispered Evanie. "Lesser Urbs!" "Lesser Urbs?"

  "Yes, Urbs Major is beyond. See? Toward the hills." He saw. He saw the incredible structures that loomed Gargantuan. He saw a fleecy cloud drift across one, while behind it twin towers struck yet higher toward the heavens.

  "The spires of the Palace," murmured Evanie. They sped along the topmost of three tiers, and the vast structures were blotted out by nearer ones. For an hour and a half they passed along that seemingly endless street. The morning life of Urbs was appearing, traffic flowed, pedestrians moved in and out of doorways.

  The dress of the city had something military about it, with men and women alike garbed in metallicscaled shirts and either kirtles or brief shorts, with sandaled feet. They were slight in build, as were the Ormon folk, but they had none of the easygoing complacency of the villagers. They were hectic and hurried, and the sight struck a familiar note across the centuries.

  Urbs was city incarnate. Connor felt the brilliance, the glamour, the wickedness, that is a part of all great cities from Babylon to Chicago. Here were all of them in one, all the great cities that ever were, all in this gigantic metropolis. Babylon rebornImperial Rome made young again!

  They cross, suddenly, a threetiered viaduct over brown water.

  "The canal that makes Urbs a seaport," Evanie explained.

  Beyond, rising clifflike from the bank, soared those structural colossi Connor had seen in the blue distance, towering unbelievably into the bright sky. He felt pygmylike, crushed, stifled, so enormous was the mass. He did not need Evanie's whisper:

  "Across the water is Greater Urbs."

  Those mountainous piles could be nothing less.

  On the crowded sidewalks brilliantly costumed people flowed by, many smoking black cigarettes.

  That roused a longing in Tom Connor for his ancient pipe, now disintegrated a thousand years. He stared at the bold Urban women with their short hair and metallic garb. Now and again one stared back, either contemptuously, noting bis Weed clothing, or in admiration of his strong figure.

  Jan Orm guided the car down a long ramp, past the second tier and down into the dusk of the ground level. They cut into a solid line of thunderous trucks, and finally pulled up at the base of one of the giant buildings. Jan drew a deep sigh.

  "We're here," he said. "Urbs!"

  Connor made no reply. In his mind was only the stunning thought that this colossus called Urbs was the city they were to attempt to conquer with their Weed armya handful of less than twentyfive thousand!

  CHAPTER TEN

  REVOLUTION

  WITH THE CESSATION of the car's movement a blanket of humid heat closed down on them.

  The ground level was sultry, hot with the stagnant breath of thirty million pairs of lungs.

  Then, as Connor alighted, there was a whir, and he glanced up to see a fan blower dissolve into whirling invisibility, drawing up the fetid accumulation of air. A faint coolness wafted along the tunnellike street. For perhaps half a minute the fan hummed, then was stilled. The colossal city breathed, in thirtysecond gasps!

  They moved into the building, to a temperature almost chilly after the furnace heat outside. Connor heard the hiss of a cooling system, recognized the sibilance since he had heard it from a similar system in Evanie's cottage. They followed Jan to an elevator, one of a bank of fully forty, and identical to one of the automatic lifts in an ancient apartment building.

  Jan pressed a button, and the cage shot into swift and silent motion. It seemed a long time before it clicked to a halt at the seventyfourth floor. The doors swung noiselessly aside and they emerged into a carpeted hall, following Jan to a door halfway down the corridor. A faint murmur of voices within ceased as Jan pressed a bellpush.

  In the moment of silence a faint, bluish light outlined the faces of Jan and Evanie; Connor standing a bit to the side, was beyond it.

  "Looking us over on a vision screen," whispered Jan, and instantly the door opened. Connor heard voices. "Evanie Sair and Jan Orm! At last!" Connor followed them into a small chamber, and was a little taken aback by the hush that greeted his appearance. He faced the group of leaders in the room, half a dozen men and an equal number of women, all garbed in Urban dress, and all frozen in immobile surprise.

  "This is Tom Connor," Jan Orm said quickly. "He suggested the rifles."

  "Well!" drawled a goldenhaired girl, relaxing. "He looks like a cool Immortal. Lord! I thought we were in for it!"

  "You'd manage, Ena," said a striking darkhaired beauty, laughing disdainfully.

  "Don't mind Maris." The blonde smiled at Connor. "She's been told she looks like the Princess; hence the air of hauteur." She paused. "And what do you think of Urbs?"

  "Crowded," Connor said, and grinned.

  "Crowded! You should see it on a business day."

  "It's their weekly holiday," explained Evanie. "Sunday. We chose it purposely. There'll be fewer guards in the Palace seeing room."

  For the first time Connor realized that Sundays passed unobserved in the peaceful life of Ormon.

  Jan was surveying the Urban costumes in grim disapproval.

  "Let's get to business," he said shortly.

  There was a chorus of, "Hush!"

  The girl Maris added, "You know there's a scanner in every room in Urbs, Jan. We can be seen fr
om the Palace, and heard too!"

  She nodded toward one of the lightbrackets on the wall. After a moment of close inspection Connor distinguished the tiny crystal "eye."

  "Why not cover it?" he asked in a low voice.

  "That would bring a Palace officer in five minutes," responded the blonde Ena. "A blank on the screen sticks out like the Alpha Building."

  She summoned the group close about her, slipping a casual arm through Connor's. In an almost inaudible whisper she began to detail the progress of the plans, replying to Jan's queries about the distribution of weapons and where they now were, to Evanie's question about the appointed time, to inquiries from each of the others.

  Evanie's report of the Messenger caused some apprehension.

  "Do you think he knows?" asked Ena. "He must, unless it was some stray that passed near you."

  "Suppose he does," countered Evanie. "He can't know when. We're ready, aren't we? Why not strike todaynowat once?"

  There was a chorus of whispered protest.

  "We oughtn't to risk everything on a sudden decisionit's too reckless!"

  Ena pressed Connor's arm and whispered, "What do you think?"

  He caught an angry glance from Evanie. She resented the blond girl's obvious attention.

  "Evanie's right," he murmured. "The only chance this halfbaked revolution has is surprise. Lose that and you've lost everything."

  And such, after more whispered discussion, was the decision. The blow was to be struck at one o'clock, just two hours away. The leaders departed to pass the instructions to their subordinate leaders, until only Connor and Evanie remained. Evan Jan Orm had gone to warn the men of Ormon.

  Evanie seemed about to speak to Connor, but suddenly turned her back on him.

  "What's the matter, Evanie?" he said softly.

  He was unprepared for the violence with which she swung around, her brown eyes blazing.

  "Matter!" she snapped. "You dare ask! With the feel of that canaryheaded Ena's fingers still warm on your arm!"

  "But Evanie!" he protested. "I did nothing."

  "You let her!"

  "But"

  "You let her!"

  Further protest was prevented by the return of the patrician Maris. Evanie dropped into a sulky silence, not broken until Jan Orm appeared.

  It was a solemn group that emerged on the ground level and turned their steps in the direction of the twintowered Palace. Evanie had apparently forgotten her grievance in the importance of the impending moment, but all were silent and thoughtful.

  Not even Connor had eyes for Palace Avenue, and the tumult and turmoil of that great street boiled about him unnoticed. Through the girders above, the traffic of the second and third tiers sent rumbling thunder, but he never glanced up, trudging abstractedly beside Evanie.

  A hundred feet from the street's end they paused. Through the tunnellike opening where Palace Avenue divided to circle the broad grounds of the Palace, Connor gazed at a vista of green lawn surmounted by the flight of white steps that led to the Arch where the enormous diorite statue of Holland, the Father of Knowledge, sat peering with narrowed eyes into an ancient volume.

  "Two minutes," said Jan with a nervous glance around. "We'd better move forward."

  They reached the open. The grounds, surrounded by the incredible wall of mountainous buildings, glowed green as a lake in the sun, and the full vastness of the Palace burst upon Connor's eyes, towering into the heavens like a twinpeaked mountain. For a moment he gazed, awestruck, then glanced back into the cave of the ground level, waiting for the hour to strike.

  It came, booming out of the Palace tower. One o'clock! Instantly the ground level was a teeming mass of humanity, swarming out of the buildings in a torrent. Sunlight glanced, flashing from rifle barrels; shouts sounded in a wild chorus. Swiftly the Ormon men gathered around Evania, whose brilliant costume of green and crimson formed a rallying point like a flag.

  The mob became an army, each group falling into formation about its leader. Men ran shouting into the streets on the broad avenue that circled the grounds, on the second and third tiers. Instantly a traffic jam began to spread to epic proportions. And then, between the vehicles, the mass of humanity flowed across the street toward the Palace.

  From other streets to right and left, other crowds were pouring. The blackhaired Maris was striding barelimbed and lithe before her forces. White, frightened faces stared from a thousand stalled cars.

  Then the heterogeneous mob was sweeping up the slope of grass, a surging mass converging from every side. The Palace was surrounded, at the mercy of the mob. And thenthe whole frenzied panorama froze suddenly into immobility.

  From a dozen doors, and down the wide white steps came menUrban men, with glittering metallic cuirasses and bare brown limbs. They moved deliberately, in the manner of trained troops. Quickly they formed an inner circle about the Palace, an opposing line to the menacing thousands without.

  They were few compared to the revolutionary forces, yet for a tense moment the charge was halted, and the two lines glared at each other across a few hundred feet of grassy slope.

  That moment was etched forever in Connor's mind. He seemed to see everything, with the strange clarity that excitement can lead. The glint of sunlight on steel, the vast inextricable jam of traffic, the motionless thousands on the hill, the untold thousands peering from every window in every one of the gigantic buildings. And even, on a balcony of stone far up on the left tower, two tiny shining figures surveying the scene. The three Triangles hanging motionless as clouds high in the heavens. The vast brooding figure of Holland staring unperturbed into his black stone book.

  "He's warnedhe's ready!" Jan muttered. "We'll have to fire," Evanie cried.

  But before her command, the sharp rattle of rifles came from far to the right. Machineguns sputtered, and all down the widespread line puffs of steam billowed like huge white chrysanthemums, and dissipated at once.

  From a thousand windows in the bank of buildings burst other momentary clouds, and the medley of shouts punctuated by staccato explosions was like a chorus of wild music.

  Connor stared thunderstruck. In the opposing line not a single man had fallen! Each stood motionless as the giant statue, left arm crooked across breast, right arm holding a glistening revolverlike weapon.

  Was marksmanship responsible for thatincredibly poor marksmanship? Impossible, with that hail of bullets! Puffs of dust spurted up before the line, splintered stone flew from the walls behind. Windows crashed. But not one Urban soldier moved.

  "What's wrong?" Connor yelled.

  "He knew." Jan Orm panted. "He's equipped his men with Paige deflectors. He's the devil himself!"

  The girl Maris leaped forward. "Come on!" she shouted, and led the charge. Instantly the line of Urbans raised their weapons, laying them across their bent left arms. A faint misty radiance stabbed out, a hundred brief flashes of light. The beams swept the revolutionaries. Anguished cries broke out as men spun and writhed.

  Connor leaped back as a flash caught him. Sudden pain racked him as his muscles tore against each other in violent spasmodic contractions. A moment only; then he was trembling and aching as the beam flicked out. An electric shock! None should know that better than he! Everywhere the revolutionaries were writhing in agony.

  The front ranks were down, and of all those near him, only he and Evanie were standing. Her face was strained and white and agonized.

  Jan Orm was struggling to his feet, his face a mask of pain. Beyond him others were crawling away.

  Connor was astounded. The shock had been painful, but not that painful.

  Halfway up the slope before the immobile line of Urbans lay the blackhaired Maris. Her nerves had been unequal to the task set them, and she had fainted from sheer pain. The whole mass of the Weed army was wavering. The revolution was failing!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FLIGHT

  CONNOR HAD AN INSPIRATION. The deflecting force must emanate from the glittering button
s on the Urbans' left arms. Moreover, the field must be projected only before the Urban soldiers, else they'd not be able to move their own weapons. Springing to a fallen machinegun, he righted it, spun it far to the left so as to enfilade the Urbans, to strike them from the side.

  He pulled the triggerlet out a yell of fierce joy as a dozen foemen toppled. He tried to shout his discovery to the others, but none heeded, and anyhow the Urbans could counter it by a slight shift of formation. So grimly he cut as wide a gap as he could.

  The beams flashed. Steeling himself to the agony of the shock, he bore it unflinchingly. When it had passed, the Weed army was in flight. He muttered a vicious curse and jerked a groaning man on the ground beside him to his feet.

  "You're still alive, you sheep!" he snarled. "Get up and carry that girl!" He gestured at the prostrate Maris.

  The slope was clearing. Only half a hundred Weeds lay twisting on the grass, or were staggering painfully erect. Connor glared at the slowly advancing Urbans, faced them for a moment disdainfully, then turned to follow the flying Weeds. Halfway across the grounds he paused, seized an abandoned rifle, and dropped to his knee.

  In a gesture of utter defiance, he took careful aim at the two figures on the tower balcony five hundred feet above. He pressed the trigger. Ten shots spat out in quick succession. Windows splintered above the figures, below, to right and left. Tom Connor swore again as he realized that these, too, were protected. Then he gritted his teeth as the ionic beam swept him once more.

  When it ceased, he fled, to mingle with the last of the retreating Weed forces. They were trickling through, over, and around that traffic jam that would take heroic efforts to untangle.

  The Revolution was over. No man could now reorganize that flying mob. Connor thrust his way through the mass of panicstricken humanity until he reached the car in which Jan and Evanie were already waiting.

  Without a. word Jan swung the car hastily about, for the traffic snarl was reaching even as far away as he had parked. Evanie dropped her head on Connor's shoulder, weeping quietly.