by Albert De Pina
Nardon, the Correlator, had banded together the
greatest brains of the Solar System to battle the
menace spawned by Saturn--was leading them into
the stronghold of the Energasts themselves.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1944.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
_"We cannot fight," Antaran said. "Not now.... We must be patient a
while longer. Venus still holds the secret of Vulcan base and without
allotropic metal our fleet would be so much papier mache!" He fell
silent._
_In the soft, smoky-blue twilight of the great subterranean room
beneath the Universarium, Bill Nardon gazed expressionlessly at the
angular austerity of the Council Leader's face, and remained silent._
_"Three more spacers today!" Antaran sank slowly into the yielding
firmness of a priceless crysto-plast chair. "Disappeared...." He
paused. "Must you have this hellish blue fog, Bill?" He frowned in
distaste. Bill Nardon smiled slowly from where he lay on a great couch
of alabastrine, utterly relaxed. "Would you rather have a mountain
night, a summer twilight, or dawn?" His great shoulders shook a little
with silent laughter until the mane of dark red hair that hung to his
shoulders seemed to twinkle with pinpoints of light. He pressed a
series of selectors on the back of the couch, and slowly a rosy light
like a tardy dawn diffused through the room together with the smell of
the sea. "Don't look so outraged, Antaran; that Spartan conditioning of
yours is a tragedy!" The aged Council leader shrugged his shoulders._
_"Listen to me!" Antaran said brusquely. "Half a hundred thousand men
and women from six planets cannot be hidden away like so much plunder.
Sooner or later someone is bound to escape and give away the mystery.
Yet months have passed and no trace of them has been found. Correlate
that!"_
_He sniffed at the marvelously fresh odor of the sea and blinked at the
rose-gold light of the static dawn as if it weren't a scientific and
artistic miracle, but something not quite decent._
_"The loss in terms of life and treasure is negligible. It's what it
purports in the long run that's serious. Already Venus has clamped down
on shipments of radio-actives and Mars has declared limited martial
law. No trade with Neptune is possible in the face of their embargo,
and the European coalition of Terrans and Panadurs have closed their
world! The logical development of this psychological state of nerves
is...."_
_"War." Bill Nardon said softly, almost in a whisper that died in the
faint sea-breeze that eddied about the room. For a long time there
was silence, while the "Correlator" played with the selectors on the
couch unaware of doing so in his profound absorption, and the tardy
dawn faded into bright daylight which in turn gave way to the perfumed
mystery of a starry night deep within the mountains and the odor of
pine stole about the room. A ripple of music almost as soft as a sigh
invaded the chamber, gathering in volume and poesy of melody like an
enchanted lullaby to a wonder child or, a woman utterly beloved._
_When the "Correlator" came to, Antaran had gone._
* * * * *
The rain's silver curtain had lifted for some time--over an hour
now--Bill Nardon mused. The blinding blueness of the skies was
reflected on the satiny sheen of the platino-plastic structures of the
spaceport, now glorious in its display of opulence for the benefit of
the arriving delegations of five worlds. The Terran display of grandeur
had been planned to increase with exquisite skill all the way to the
_Universarium_.
Which in itself was a piece of effrontery, Bill thought with a sardonic
smile, considering that with Earth, only six worlds were represented,
which was far from being the Universe. Not to mention that each
planet was sovereign, jealously and hypersensitively suspicious of
the slightest encroachment upon their rights and domains. Bill was
certainly aware of the fact that the word _Universarium_ would be a
cause for resentment.
They were arriving now. Upon the gigantic Ethero-solidograph that
covered an entire wall of the spacious room, deep in the bowels of the
_Universarium_, Bill Nardon could see the great inter-planetary vessels
emerge from outer space, where both space and time have but a remote
and relative meaning, and flash like inter-stellar daggers into the
outer fringe of the stratosphere.
"Warships! All of them!" He mused aloud, while the slightly satirical
smile deepened, hovering on his square-cut lips, crinkling the corners
of the long, strangely colored eyes--almost electric blue.
"Warships?" he mused.
Bill saw them extend lateral fins upon the icy fragility of the upper
air, much as a bird extends its wings, and come shrieking through the
tortured air in a mad race to be the first to land upon the expectant
Earth. In great flawless spirals--beautiful beyond belief--they lost
altitude, leaving behind a vortex of clouds boiling furiously at their
passage. Venus was in the lead. Bill Nardon recognized the powerful
cruiser by its insignia of a serpent biting its tail, fashioned of
_Josmians_--Venusian pearls. Close behind it was Europa, with the
insignia of a blazing Jupiter on its side; Neptune with its emblazoned
shield of a tiered city, and little Mercury with the royal emblem of
incandescent Sol. And at the very end, aloof, disdainful, the truly
magnificent work of science and art that was the Martian vessel, which
characteristically wore no emblem at all, and seemed to be content to
be the last to arrive, so long as it kept from being contaminated by
close contact with the races of other worlds than Mars.
A great swirl of ceremonial music rose from the immense spaceport, the
cathedral-like architectonics weaving intricate patterns upwards to the
skies as if to receive in an ocean of melody the arriving delegates.
Bill Nardon sighed, his task was about to begin. With a slight movement
of his right hand, he touched the controls gleaming on the desk before
him, and the scene at the spaceport rushed with vertiginous speed into
close focus; still he was not satisfied, but continued to manipulate
the Ethero-solidograph controls until the emerging occupants of the
Venusian ship grew on the screen to life-size. With infinite care he
studied and analyzed their faces, their exquisite fragile bodies with
the long, membranous wings; noted the almost imperceptible shadow
of baffled apprehension beneath the mask of imperturbability, and
found--nothing. But that was to be expected. After all, of all the
planets, Venus was the least warlike, which was fortunate indeed.
* * * * *
The tall, rangy Europans, offspring of Terran colonists, with their
strange, silver-furred Panadur co-rulers, came next. Bill lingered over
the Panadur leader, so strangely human in his four feet of upright,
slender body, completely furred in gleaming silver fur to the very
throat-line, with the delicate triangular face dominated by immense
beryl eyes. Strange creatures of a world within a world, drawing
their sustenance from the eerie radio-active caverns of their great
Jupiterian satellite. The Neptunians were descendants of Earthmen too,
but subtly changed by the awesome environment of their gigantic world.
The Mercurians were a problem in themselves. For of all the planets,
theirs was a ruthless Matriarchy. The striding, uncompromising Amazons
that emerged from that blunt, utilitarian-looking ship, were in
themselves a promise of trouble. They gazed around them out of blazing
dark eyes, and their metallic complexions seemed to flow oddly like
quicksilver with their movements, as if their features were fluid.
Only the eyes, hard, suspicious, expecting the worst, retained their
unyielding character. When the Martians emerged, tall, tawny-haired,
with their immense violet eyes and exaggeratedly narrow waists, that
contrasted with their broad shoulders, it occurred to Bill that the
least accident would precipitate an holocaust that would end in the
most gigantic hecatomb the universe had ever seen. He shuddered to
think what would happen if the least delegate were to meet with harm.
From the very beginning, he had protested against this inter-planetary
meeting on Terra, and great as his influence was, profound as the
respect was in which his unique powers were held, the Council vote had
been against him.
Still, Bill Nardon could not rid himself of the feeling that this was
a wild goose chase, that nothing would be accomplished by a meeting of
the highest dignitaries of the Inter-Planetary League--in short, that
the great danger of an _accident_ that was being incurred was not only
unnecessary--but futile, which was far worse.
Asprawl in the great hetero-plastic chair, his long legs extended, his
superb torso completely relaxed, he looked as if even his great muscles
would never again lift that magnificent body upright. But all the while
his unique mind was absorbed in assembling multitudes of details and
facts, coordinating and correlating psychological factors and psychic
coordinates with the speed of thought into a clear picture which in the
end proved--absolutely nothing. He was baffled. To the tragic problem
which would soon be under discussion in the stupendous _Universarium_,
expressly built for that momentous purpose, he would be able to bring
precisely nothing.
For once he had failed. And Bill damned the cold efficiency of the
Master Neurograph machine that had unerringly summarized his strange
mental coordinates. For Bill's mind had the peculiar gift of being able
to grasp a series of basic facts and from them deduce with supernal
accuracy the individual answer to any _human_ problem. What took the
great Philosophers in Psychiatry VI days, and weeks, and even months to
solve, Bill Nardon could coordinate and give the correct answer to in
hours, sometimes minutes.
There was nothing mysterious about it. Given enough time, Bill Nardon
could have explained in detail how he could solve a particular problem
in human equations--if he cared to, which he never did--it was merely
a mental ratio of activity in the upper part of his brain, where the
most involved and difficult thinking is done, many times greater
than that of the normal human brain. To this was added an intensity
and scope of _awareness_ surpassing any Neurographic records known.
The result was the coordination of details, the synchronizing of
factors--nay, _nuances_ so tenuous that they were non-existent to even
the philosophical minds.
As a result, Bill Nardon had been immediately removed from his job as
an explorer and transferred to Security I, answerable only to the very
head of the Supreme Council itself.
To him it had been a tragedy. The ecstasy of the vast reaches of
space; the illimitable freedom, birthright of explorers, the intimate
communion with the stars had been transmuted into a guarded existence
as if he were one of the most valuable factors in the security of
Earth, which unquestionably he was. Every luxury, every whim even, was
his to indulge, he could have anything ... literally anything, but
freedom!
And now he had failed. In his sardonic mood he was glad that he
had been unable to find even a tiny clue. In all that glittering,
heterogenous assemblage Bill had not found even a slight _nuance_ to
pounce upon. Involuntarily he shook his head, and the dark red mane
that fell to his shoulders in the conventional style of the day,
swirled about his shoulders, again he shook his head as if some almost
imperceptible irritant were annoying him. And suddenly he sat upright,
his eyes narrowed and steel-blue. In his intense absorption in the
scene on the Ethero-solidograph, the elfin probing of his mind had gone
unnoticed. A profound surprise mingled with the instant pointing of all
his faculties as he became aware. That _anyone_ could penetrate his
mental defenses was unthinkable!
* * * * *
Even before his awareness of peril was complete, Bill became a blur of
motion that coiled and sprang erect. And the incredible shape that had
launched itself with razor-like talons outspread unerringly for the
sprawling Terran's throat thudded against iron-hard stomach muscles,
over which a thin beryllium mesh tunic afforded protection. Almost at
the very instant it struck, the creature launched itself again, with
demoniacal fury, taloned hands reaching with super-human strength for
the bared throat, its taloned feet trying to disembowel the Terran.
Bill fought silently, driving a shattering blow to the open mouth with
its gleaming fangs, with the other striving to keep it at arm's length.
But the thing twisted with a sinuous motion and flung itself to one
side, then leaped in again, driving like a tiger for the Terran legs,
as Bill sprang to one side and then dived for the flashing creature.
Bill caught one of its legs and instantly it coiled back upon itself
and fastened its fanged mouth upon his forearm. Only the invulnerable
Beryllium mesh saved it from being fanged through; as it was, the awful
pressure of those inhuman teeth was excruciating agony. In desperation
Bill aimed another slashing blow at the maniacal face of the being, and
saw it become indistinct with blood; using every ounce of strength at
his command, the Earthman slowly forced back the face of the thing and
with a convulsive movement shattered its vertebrae. When Bill released
it, the creature dropped limp on the bloodied translucence of the
Jadite flooring.
Reeling from fatigue, his body a mass of bruises, Bill methodically
examined his attacker. It was about four feet tall, humanoid in shape,
even as to features which were delicate--surprisingly beautiful in
the repose of death. It had the face of a very beautiful woman in
miniature. But there was nothing lovely about the competent taloned
hands with their cording of steely muscles, or about the oddly shaped
flexible feet--almost hands in themselves, like that of the now extinct
apes of thousands of years back when Terra had been young. The body
had evidently been evolved with a great simplicity of purpose--and,
strangest of all, it was sexless!
And this was the thing that had been able to penetrate the defenses
of his mind, almost succeeding in probing it without Bill being aware
of it. In coordinating his findings, it occurred to Bill Nardon that
this unholy creature was the nearest thing to a _homunculi_ he had ever
known! But whence had it come? How correlate such a _mind of power_
with such utterly ruthless, coldly calculating ferocity.
Bill shivered a little, and it was not altogether from his recent
exertions in defense of his life. Stretched upon the exquisite
whiteness of the plastic Jadite flooring, there was an infinitely
appealing beauty to its face in the ultimate sleep, as if it were a
welcome repose. The light brown eyes still open mirrored sadness--that
was the incredible fact. The mind that had tip-toed the shores of
his consciousness with sandals of foam, was still. But Bill Nardon's
mind recovered from the horror of the unexpected attack, felt even
more the icy chill of failure as it sought factors and only found an
impenetrable mystery instead.
"No planet ... no world known to me," and Bill had traveled half a
galaxy in his time, "has spawned this creature. This," he paused, his
eyes electric with excitement, "is a manufactured, an artificially
evolved being! But who? Not the Martians surely; the Venusians? The
Neptunians? No, no race in the entire six planets is capable of
creating...." In the very midst of his soliloquy he paused startled.
"The Panadurs! Only they with their strange powers could achieve such
a miracle.... But would they? In all the annals of Europa there is
no clue to the "Will to Conquer." Besides, to the Panadurs life was
sacred...." His thoughts swirled feverishly, and, impenetrably, the
mystery became more and more involved as the glittering assemblage of
delegates from other worlds traveled to the great _Universarium_.
* * * * *
For a timeless moment of absolute silence, every being present stood
with bowed head in reverence to the Absolute. Then they took their
assigned places around the immense Council table grimly. The crisis was
at hand.
When Bill Nardon entered, he was late, for the preliminaries, the usual
diplomatic fencing and jockeying for favorable positions was over. The
smouldering resentment of six belligerent worlds was frankly in the
open.
Antaran, Head of the Supreme Council of Terra, presided at the head of
the table--there had been no difficulty about that--as was his due as
Host; but Venus and Mars had been diplomatically seated at his right
and left, respectively, facing each other and with equal honors, where
they could glare at each to their hearts' content. Neptune had been
given the other end of the table facing Antaran, and to his right the
Amazonian leader from Mercury. The balance of the delegates had been
scattered around the council table interspersed cleverly with members
of Terra's Council.
Bill saw instantly Antaran's anxious frown as he entered and caught the
half-annoyed, half-anxious query at his lateness, telepathed in their
secret code. He merely signalled, "Wait, Antaran!" and proceeded to
stand behind the Terran Leader's chair as unobtrusively as possible.
But it _had_ been an entrance! His stately height of six feet five
inches, in the close fitting tunic of beryllium, the dark red mane
of wavy hair falling to his shoulders, allied to the lateness of his
coming, gave him an importance in the eyes of the visiting delegates
which, just now, he would have liked to avoid.
But when Antaran arose, all eyes centered coldly upon the Council
Leader. A sensuous fragrance of Venusian Jasmines wafted like an
invisible presence as the Martian Leader insolently applied a gossamer
handkerchief to his nostrils in defense of the odors of the other
races, and the tiny, winged Venusian ambassador glared with scorn.
The Amazonian being from Mercury clanked her power-rapier uneasily,
while the tall Neptunian unconsciously touched his belt. Above them,
the cathedral-like dome of the tremendous Hall of Planets rose until
the graduating hues of its intricately carved Sapphirine plastic walls
paled from translucent sapphire to aquamarine, to beryl to palest
mauve, and then only the sheerest rose-gold or diffused sunlight where
the intricate interlacing of arches was like a cob-web pattern in the
distance.
"We are gathered here," Antaran began without preamble in his terse,
icy voice, "to discuss a problem that threatens...." He paused as if
not willing to voice the ghastly thought, "to plunge our Universe into
suicidal strife, and engulf the magnificent fruits of inter-planetary
civilization."
Bill Nardon while engaged in appraising the reactions of those
present, couldn't help being amused with part of his mind at the Terran
Leader's purple periods. "Dearly loves speeches!" He exclaimed mentally
in the curious mental short-hand with which he was wont to soliloquize.
"Ship after inter-planetary ship has disappeared without trace
somewhere in transit between the inner and outer planets.... That is,"
he amended, "the known outer planets which include uninhabited Jupiter
and its uncolonized Moons, the great centers of civilization--Europa
and Neptune. I cannot speak for Uranus which has only been partly
explored, and those two unknown quantities, Pluto and especially
Saturn, that planet of maddening contradictions on which no space
vessel has been able to land. Thousands upon thousands of passengers,
colonists of all races, and untold treasure has vanished into thin air,
without trace. I submit," Antaran drew himself to his full skeletal
height of over six feet, thin to the point of emaciation and austere
in all the dignity of his two hundred years, "I submit that Terra is
blameless--that the infamy of this outrage is surpassed only by the
mystery of the purpose behind it all!" He stood grim and silent, with
folded arms, his translucent gray eyes searching the faces before him.
And pandemonium broke loose! The Martian exquisite forgot his affected
snobbishness and his perfumed handkerchief, and was shouting:
"The floor! Grant me the floor!"
While the blazing eyed virago from Mercury unceremoniously shoved the
tall Neptunian aside and was bellowing in stentorian tones:
"I take the floor, Terran! I take the floor!"
* * * * *
Oddly enough, it was the tiny Panadur from Europa who eventually got
it. He had leaped upon the Council table and stood immobile, sending
powerful telepathic vibrations in utter silence, for his race was
voiceless. Before the incredible power of that involved mind, the
Terrans, the surpassingly telepathic Venusians, even the Martians gave
way. Only the Mercurian creature bellowed still, until Antaran granted
the floor to the Panadur. And the telepathic flood poured out. The
being from Europa accounted for his world in no uncertain terms. To
them life was sacred, and the last thing in the Universe they wanted
was strife!
Planet after planet laid their cards on the table. Even Mars, for all
their supercilious affectation, made a categorical denial. And as the
mystery deepened, mutual suspicion flamed higher and higher. It was
Venus that finally gave voice to what was in all their minds.
"After all, treasure is replaceable, great as the loss may be. But at
least a dozen inter-planetary spacers built of the invulnerable metal
from Vulcan have disappeared! A few more of such Venusian ships, and
whatever planet is responsible will have a respectable fleet of the
most deadly ships of space known to our Universe! Our inter-planetary
treaty with Mars and Terra and Mercury gave us undisputed and undivined
sovereignty over Vulcan Base and the invulnerable metal of its mines,
because having in our grasp the conquest of Terra and Mars, we kept the
peace! Now, after ages of adhering to the treaty, we are faced with
virtual attack. We demand a solution!"
It was then that Bill decided it was high time to intervene. With a
gesture he signalled to the outer arch of the Hall of Planets, while
simultaneously he requested the floor. Antaran granted the request
while a slight frown of puzzlement crinkled the pale, parchment-like
brow crowned with snowy hair. And into the silent Hall came two
ordine-plastic robots bearing between them a plastic box. They laid it
on the floor, before the Council table and as silently withdrew. All
eyes were centered on the plastic box, and the _personal_ vibrations of
the delegates were overpowering, as Bill strode calmly towards the box
and wordlessly opened the lid.
With one effortless gesture he lifted the inert and stiffening form of
the _homunculi_ that had attacked him, and flung it into the center
of the table. Even as they arose in amazement, he swept them with a
bright, electric blue glare and with the unsuspected force of his
tremendous mind-power he gave them a faithful, telephathic picture
of what had occurred. They all saw it. The battle to the death; the
creature's probing of his mind--_All!_
And there was no doubt as to its authenticity, the proof was before
their eyes, and no mind--not even Bill Nardon's--could possible fake
such a harrowing experience and bring before them the _corpus delicti_,
not even through telekinesis!
"That," Bill Nardon telepathed succinctly, "is a definite clue. I do
not know of any race in our inter-planetary League able to _create_
such a creature. I only have a suggestion to make. Once I was an
explorer. I can be one again. Ordinary minds cannot cope with this
problem. Terra will have to risk me if a solution to this mystery
is to be achieved. I suggest a suicide expedition. If Mars, Venus,
Neptune, Mercury and Europa will join Terra in sending a group of their
best, their keenest minds, and their highest trained inter-planetary
explorers, we may have a chance to relay back to the inhabited planets
whatever we discover.
"I said _suicide_ expedition--I meant just that. A single cruiser,
armed by the combined science of all planets. Let Venus provide
Vulcanite, because it's invulnerable; the atomic engines supplied by
Terra--those are details. Every Ethero-Magnum Station between the inner
and outer planets to be constantly on the alert--as far as Neptune!"
His narrowed eyes swept them briefly, noting the instant negative
reaction from the Venusian at the mention of Vulcanite. Suspicion
lingered. Doubts rooted on a million incidents of the past--intrigues
so involved as to drive a mind mad. Injustices. The last fratricidal
war that had set their Universe aflame.
* * * * *
The stately Martian had recovered his aplomb; the wisp of handkerchief
he pressed to his nostrils as he eyed the inert creature asprawl on the
table diffused a breath of fragrance, cool as a mountain breeze. He
gestured toward it fastidiously, his violet eyes inscrutable.
"That ... _homunculi_, or android ... nothing mysterious about it.
Superb biosynthesis, I grant you, but Terra _could_ produce it!" The
last words were like a stab.
"And so _could_ Mars," the Venusian said wearily in instant
contradiction. "The point it, what could anyone of us hope to gain by
war?" The word was out at last. The chill atmosphere of horror the
appearance of the _homunculi_ had inspired, became icy, seemed to
seep like the breath of death through the lofty Hall. In the silent
pause their faces were like masks as the tiny Venusian eyed them with a
sardonic glance. "Power, perhaps?" He continued. "No one planet wears
the crown of empire--no one ever will as long as Venus holds Vulcan!"
He said it softly, but with a Universe of power in his voice.
The sloe-eyed Amazon from Mercury stirred uneasily, and the Neptunian
delegate seemed uncertain as to the next move. In silence, Bill Nardon
waited patiently.
A swift glance of intelligence flashed between the rangy Europan
Earthman and his inseparable Panadur companion. And then the latter
rose. He held up a silver-furred arm perfectly moulded, and gestured
with his oddly human but thumbless hand.
"This being could have easily traveled by spacer from whence it
came--as easily as we did!" The Panadur telepathed. "A small ship would
be practically indetectable; besides, in view of our coming, even if
seen it would have been taken for one of our ships. It occurs to me
that this being may not have been created by another race, but _is in
itself_ the very danger we have to face!"
"No!" Bill Nardon exclaimed with utter conviction. "I caught it
exploring my mind. In the instant that I contacted his, I _knew_ it was
not independent ... it was _directed_. Three things only have I been
unable to solve: It brought no weapons save its own murderous powers;
it was purposely directed at me as if to destroy the only 'Correlating'
mind in our League. And, most mysterious of all--in death, an ineffable
sadness overlays its features, where the expression of bestial lust to
kill should have been frozen in death." As Bill finished, the Martian
delegate stood up:
"I suppose my Government would be willing to release the Multi-Energon
Screen for this expedition--retaining its secret, of course--provided,"
he flared, "provided Venus releases the necessary Vulcanite for the
hull!" They glared at each other from both sides of the Council Table
in ominous silence.
The Panadur gazed at them with evident scorn. "Europa," he telepathed
with a curious sort of sardonic benignity, "would be quite willing
to supply radiant energy bombs!" The nearest thing to a smile seemed
to flit over his delicate features, as he noted their reaction to the
dreaded reminder.
"And we will furnish plastics such as your worlds have never seen!" The
man from Neptune spoke at last. The Amazon merely clanked her awful
_Power-rapier_ significantly.