Captain Future 14 - Worlds to Come (Spring 1943) Read online

When he was finally moved from the ship to a storehouse, the Brain did at last go into action — but even this was action of a special kind, the one kind to which he did not object.

  He raised himself by means of his tractor beams and extended the lens-eyes, mounted on flexible stalks. He could see mechanical devices of all kinds, most of them ruined and useless. But here and there were parts he would be able to utilize.

  He selected these parts carefully. There were transparent lenses useful for ordinary optical instruments, as well as the magnetic lenses useful for electron beam focusing. Simon began to experiment, testing one lens after another. High up on the walls, he used an old atom-pistol to remove sections of the opaque material, and substituted for them carefully chosen lenses of the optical type.

  FROM these lenses several metal wires led to the central group of visor-screens that Simon had constructed.

  Simon’s own lens-eyes hung on their stalks over the screens. In front of him he soon had pictures of what was going on in this citadel of Gorma Hass. Outside he could see the soldiers of Gorma Hass, with here and there a Sverd, regarded askance even by their human allies.

  The next thing for him to construct was a series of audiophones. Simon worked at the apparatus steadily, for no one came to visit the storehouse. At night he cut a larger section out of the walls, and went floating stealthily over the city, to place his receiving instruments in suitable places.

  “There,” he finally muttered with satisfaction, “Now I can see and hear what is going on.”

  The city, he decided, had been constructed purely for military purposes by the soldiers of Gorma Hass. There were no civilians to be seen, and all the conversation was of military conquest.

  He overheard one quarrel between two soldiers, one of the Vegan type, the other pink-skinned like the men of Fomalhaut. That argument shed a revealing light on the nature of Gorma Hass.

  “By the blue star itself,” cried the Vegan, “when the fighting is over and everything is settled, we Vegans will rule the Universe.”

  The pink-skinned Fomalhautian laughed. “It is just as well that you swear by a star that our leader despises, Vegan, for there is no truth in what you say. Gorma Hass himself is one of us, and he is not such a fool as to turn over his conquests to the men of that poor system of yours.”

  “Gorma Hass from Fomalhaut?” shouted the enraged Vegan. “You lie! I have seen him myself, here on this planet, in his own palace, and he is a Vegan of pure blood!

  The Fomalhautian frowned. “No man calls me a liar and lives,” he growled fiercely. “I saw Gorma Hass at the same time you did, and he is from Fomalhaut. For your bad eyesight, Vegan, you will pay — with your life!”

  He had his atom-pistol out at the same instant that the Vegan had drawn his. Simon saw the two deadly rays cross in mid-air, watched the two soldiers both fall, their bodies half blasted by the streams of disintegrating particles.

  The incident aroused the Brain to considerable speculation. He knew, from what Hol Jor and the other star-captains had told him, that Gorma Hass had the power of appearing to each race as one of themselves. Now he had the further proof of what he had suspected — that Gorma Hass made use of this power to inspire his soldiers, make each one think he had a personal stake in conquest.

  HOW was this power achieved? By the projection of a three-dimensional image? By mass hypnotism? Each was possible, but Simon doubted that either method was employed. A three-dimensional image would be convincing only to savages, and mass hypnotism would result in all the spectators at any one time believing they saw the same kind of man. But what if the spectators themselves belonged to different races?

  “If it had been mass hypnotism,” murmured Simon, “both the Vegan and the Fomalhautian, staring at Gorma Hass at the same time, would have believed themselves to see the same kind of man. Instead, each believed himself to see a man of his own race. No, Gorma Hass does not employ mass hypnotism.”

  But the two soldiers had revealed something else, too, something that for the moment appeared to Simon even more important.

  “Gorma Hass has a palace on this very planet,” he thought. “The next thing is to discover where it is. And to prepare for him.”

  With these thoughts in mind, Simon during the day remained watching as intently as ever over the visi-screens and audiophones he had constructed. Meanwhile, at night, when he could see and hear little from outside, he worked at fashioning a new instrument.

  But he was not fated to remain here long enough to secure the information he wanted. A few days following the lethal quarrel he had overheard, the door of the storehouse suddenly swung open. Simon had barely time to glide noiselessly into a corner before a squad of soldiers entered, carrying more equipment. They halted and stared in stupefaction at the apparatus he had constructed. They had approached by means of a path that was not covered by Simon’s visi-screens.

  “By the omnipotence of Gorma Hass,” gasped the squad leader. “Here are visi-screens and audiophone receivers. Someone has had the audacity to come here and spy on us?”

  “He can’t have escaped,” said one of the soldiers.

  An unpleasant grin spread over the leader’s face. “Put down what you are carrying!” he roared. “Search the place! Make sure that the treacherous scoundrel does not get away!”

  The Brain watched in quiet satisfaction as the bewildered soldiers spread out to run through the different rooms. Most of them did not even spare him a passing glance. One, however, came close, and caught sight of the lens-eyes at the ends of the flexible stalks.

  “Here’s another curious piece of apparatus!” he called. “Shall I try to find out what it is?”

  “No, you fool, look for the man who was using it! He can’t have got away! He must have been at the screens while we were approaching.”

  As the soldier turned away, Simon glided noiselessly into the next room. A quarter of an hour later he heard the leader cursing. “Of all the stupid blockheads! A man is here and you can’t find him! What do you think he’s done, disappeared into thin air?”

  The soldier who had wanted to investigate Simon approached the squad-leader in agitation.

  “It’s gone!” he cried. “It’s gone!”

  “What’s gone, you fool?”

  “That apparatus I was telling you about!”

  “By the seven lives of a star-devil, he must have slipped back under your noses and picked it up! You’d better find him if you value your worthless skins!”

  Soon it would be time to be gone, thought Simon. He waited until the disgruntled soldiers had completed another fruitless search and departed, their leader raving about reporting what had happened to his superior officer. But outside he posted two soldiers as sentries.

  Simon drew himself by means of his traction beams to the visi-screens, once more. By the dimness of the light, he knew that evening was approaching.

  Another quarter of an hour, and Simon rose to the large opening he had cut in the wall of the storehouse. He slipped through just as several more squads of soldiers came racing to the door.

  Chapter 8: The Road to Gorma Hass

  THE Brain floated soundlessly over the dark storehouse. Once a sentry, his attention attracted by a faint passing shadow, stared suddenly aloft, and murmured something about night-birds. His hand stole to his atom-pistol, but remained there in indecision.

  “I must learn where the palace of Gorma Hass is,” thought the Brain, “And the best way to do that now is to be taken there.”

  He waited patiently while the minutes passed. Eventually the squad-leader who had searched for him previously came out, accompanying a superior officer to whom he was apologizing profusely.

  “He must have escaped, but I don’t see how! I posted sentries at each door! And there aren’t any windows?”

  “He took advantage of your stupidity in some manner,” growled the officer. “Nonetheless, if there is a clever spy among us, that fact should be known to the general in command. Leave two sentries
behind, as before, and come with me.”

  Watching from above, Simon followed them. His plan was simple enough. By learning from each officer who his superior was, he would eventually reach Gorma Hass.

  The soldiers reached a tall building, entered. Here Simon hesitated. So long as he remained in the open air he was relatively safe, but once he entered a building, he might find himself trapped. He did not care so greatly for his own safety, but he was concerned about the success of his plan.

  After a time he made up his mind, and entered. Keeping to the shadows near the ceiling, and moving only when no one was looking in his direction, he progressed soundlessly down a long corridor. At a side-corridor he paused, and just then he heard the sharp intake of a man’s breath. A soldier’s blue face was staring up at him, his eyes opened wide in incredulity.

  Simon glanced back rapidly, only to see another pair of soldiers approaching, both of them officers. “I’m caught!” thought Simon.

  “Futureman!” hissed a low voice. “Don’t you recognize me?”

  Simon gazed down again, and this time his eyes caught the face at a different angle. “Mar Del!” he exclaimed in a rasping whisper.

  It was the young son of Ber Del, the Vegan. Down the corridor he could hear the tramp of the approaching officers. He swooped down toward Mar Del, whispered rapid instructions.

  Five seconds later the approaching officers came to a halt and stared at Mar Del.

  “Vegan,” barked one of them sharply, “what are you carrying there?”

  Mar Bel’s right hand finished saluting, secured a comfortable grip on the curious box he was holding in his left.

  “A machine used by the spy, sir. He was disguised as a soldier, and mingled with the searching squad.”

  “So that’s why those stupid fools couldn’t find him!”

  “Yes, sir. But when he got outside, one of the other soldiers recognized this machine, which had been moved unaccountably. He was captured.”

  “Good! Where is he now?”

  “Under arrest,” ventured Mar Del. He had finished repeating all that Simon had whispered to him, and now he went ahead on his own account. “I was ordered to take this box to the general.”

  “Carry it into that room and put it on a table,” the officer directed. “I’ll see that it gets to the general.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  MAR DEL stalked into the room and deposited the Brain on a table. Simon had barely time to whisper a single sentence under the eyes of the watching officers when Mar Del turned and was leaving.

  “What’s that?” snapped the officer who had spoken before. “What did you say?”

  “I’m sorry, I must have been speaking to myself. I was just wondering what this machine could possibly be used for.”

  “That’s not for you to bother your head about. Return to your post.”

  Then, Mar Del was gone, and the Brain was left to wonder what had brought the young man into this dangerous place.

  The officer approached, surveyed Simon curiously. He touched the flexible stalks on which Simon’s eyes were mounted, and moved them about. Finally he shook his head in bewilderment. “I’ll take it to the general,” he muttered finally. “Let him see what he can make of it.”

  Once more Simon felt himself being carried around.

  The general turned out to be a crimson Antarean, and at sight of him Simon realized anew the danger of Gorma Hass, who appeared to every man to be of his own race, and could thus persuade him the more readily to turn traitor.

  “This is a machine that was being used by the spy, General. We think it should be studied carefully.”

  The Antarean cast Simon a curious glance. “Very well, I’ll turn it over to our scientific experts.”

  Simon had a feeling of alarm. It was all very well to puzzle a group of stolid, prosaic-minded military men. But scientists would discover his true nature, take steps to render him harmless.

  “Put it down temporarily,” directed the Antarean. “We’ll take care of it later. Right now I’m preparing to visit Gorma Hass.”

  Mingled with Simon’s alarm was a sense of elation. His idea had been right then. Shifting from one superior officer to the next, eventually he was sure to reach Gorma Hass.

  In a few moments, Simon found himself, once more disregarded, in a corner of the room.

  He waited until no one was looking in his direction. Then he rose in the air on his tractor beams and floated silently out through the window.

  Mar Del was waiting for him, as Simon had directed, a few hundred feet away from the storehouse.

  “What are you doing on this planet?” demanded the Brain.

  Mar Del grinned. “I came in search of you, to aid you. After all, it is our battle even more than your own that you are fighting. And if you, the greatest scientist of us all, and therefore the most important, can risk yourself, so can I.”

  “But how did you get here?”

  “I encountered a Vegan secretly in the service of Gorma Hass,” replied Mar Del. “He assured me that Gorma Hass himself was a Vegan, and that eventually our own system would rule the universe. I let myself be persuaded to join him.”

  “It is a dangerous thing you are doing,” asserted the Brain. “All the human spies employed hitherto have been unfortunate.”

  “It will be time enough to think of danger when it arrives,” returned Mar Del carelessly. “At present it is necessary to act.”

  SIMON could feel himself warming to the Vegan. There was something of the spirit of Captain Future himself in this willingness to risk death to help a man who was practically a stranger to him. What was lacking was the powerful mind and the great scientific knowledge that had enabled Captain Future to defy so successfully all dangers until the final one.

  “It is necessary to act,” he agreed. “And first of all it is necessary to protect ourselves. There is an instrument within the storehouse that I desire to use. But there are two sentries guarding it.”

  “Only two?”

  “Don’t be rash, Mar Del,” reproved Simon. “A single ray from an atom-pistol can bring your adventures to an end. I shall distract their attention while you dispose of them. Then stand guard yourself.”

  Simon floated over the storehouse, allowing himself to intercept a beam of light from a nearby building. At the momentary shadow, one of the sentries looked up quickly.

  “What was that?”

  The next moment Mar Del’s atom-pistol had lanced a low-powered, paralyzing ray at his face. He fell silently. Mar Del turned swiftly as the other sentry approached, lanced another ray at him. Then he dragged the two bodies out of the way, and mounted guard himself.

  Watching from above, Simon muttered approval. He glided into the storehouse, found the instrument which he had last fashioned. When he emerged again, he let it drop into the hands of Mar Del.

  A short time later, having again picked up the trail of the Antarean general to whom Simon had been brought, Mar Del had slugged a pilot and stolen a small space vessel. Soon they were on their way, following the general’s ship, to the palace of Gorma Hass.

  Simon kept his reflections to himself as the ship drove steadily through the planet’s stratosphere.

  “Obviously, Gorma Hass must attain his effects by mental power alone,” he thought. “The Sverds, too, who are not human, but of the lower animals, obey him implicitly. But perhaps I shall change all that.”

  His tractor beams were manipulating the instrument he had taken from the storehouse.

  “What is this thing, anyway?” demanded Mar Del.

  “This is a will-dampener,” explained the Brain. “Curtis and I worked it out a good while ago. It radiates a force that neutralizes almost completely the neuronic currents in an animal’s brain cells, makes him stupid and docile as a lamb.”

  “Do you plan to use it on Gorma Hass?” asked Mar Del eagerly.

  “It would have only a slight effect on the average man, and no effect at all on Gorma Hass.”

&nb
sp; MAR DEL looked puzzled, but Simon did not explain further. Mar Del peered out, caught sight below of the ship they were trailing, and put on the rocket-brakes. He waited until the other ship had coasted to a landing, then landed himself several miles away.

  Another few minutes, and they were before the palace of Gorma Hass. They saw the Antarean general leave the palace cheerfully.

  “Now,” said Simon, “perhaps he is alone.”

  The palace was a huge plant-building, in the general style of Sagittarian architecture. Mar Del approached it boldly, carrying both Simon and the will-dampener.

  “Won’t the guards stop us?” he asked.

  “You need fear no guards.” returned Simon. “Gorma Hass has no need of them.”

  No one interfered with them as Mar Del entered the palace. Simon watched him curiously as Mar Del strode directly through a corridor to one of the elevator machines. “How did you know where to go?” he queried.

  “I can’t say,” admitted Mar Del, “But I have a feeling that this is the way to Gorma Hass.”

  Simon himself had the same feeling. He said nothing more as Mar Del walked down another corridor and entered a small room. They both stared at the occupant of this room.

  Simon knew that Mar Del was seeing a man in his own image. But what Simon himself saw was a transparent serum-case, with a living brain inside. In front of the case were two glass lens-eyes, mounted on flexible stalks. He could see also the aperture of a mechanical speech-apparatus. He was looking at the image of himself. And he knew that neither of them was viewing the real Gorma Hass.

  With one of his magnetic traction beams he pressed a stud on the will-dampener Mar Del was carrying. A low buzzing sound filled the room.

  “You are daring, you strangers,” rasped Gorma Hass. “But you will not escape with your lives.”

  Chapter 9: Joan to the Rescue

  SURROUNDED by a group of the astonished Vardri, Curt Newton stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. He had dug a pit four or five feet in depth in the green soil, filling it with pieces of wood obtained from native trees.