DISASTER
TORPEON, after receiving the signal that Miriam wished to speak with him,
was on his way down the main staircase of the castle when he met a servant
hurrying in the opposite direction. The man, at the sight of him, stopped
and made his obeisance. He was panting and evidently frightened.
“Well,” said Torpeon, with a note of stern interrogation.
“Gracious prince,” faltered the man, “it has fallen into the river!”
Torpeon was silent for a moment, frowning upon the messenger. “What is
this?”
“No. 19, Supreme One! The bank fell in and the laboratory went with it!”
It may be observed that the castle stood on a high point of ground on the
broad delta between the two largest rivers that emptied into the Bitter
Sea. On streets radiating from it were the houses of the capital city of
Tor; they were of uniform design and moderate size; each enclosed a
central court, in which the inhabitants spent their days and pursued their
occupations; the rooms were used for sleeping only. All the dwellings were
connected by a system of vibratory transmitters, centering in a
receiving-station in the basement of the castle, enabling Torpeon to issue
orders to any household or to obtain information of its activities when he
pleased. Beyond the circumference of the city proper, which was of no
great area, were the laboratories, twenty-seven in number, constructed
along the banks of the two rivers, and isolated from the approach of any
person not employed in them. They were carefully guarded, and the nature
of the industries carried on in them was never allowed to transpire. The
precautions taken made any intrusion upon the workers, or interference
with their operations, practically impossible. So, at least, Torpeon had
believed.
Of these laboratories No. 19 was at this time engaged in an important part
of the complicated scheme which Torpeon was prosecuting. Outwardly, it had
the aspect of a dome, or hemisphere, of steel, with foundations in the
solid rock. Such strength was required, not so much for protection against
attack from without, as to secure it against disturbance from the
experiments carried on within. Some of these would have shaken to pieces
any building of ordinary design and materials.
“You know the penalty for false reports?” said Torpeon quietly.
The man’s teeth chattered. The form of torture referred to was searching
enough to deter the most reckless liar. But he stuck to his story.
“It is truth, Mightiness,” he quavered. “The rock was undermined, and—”
“Come with me,” Torpeon interrupted. “Speak to no one. If you are
confirmed, I will promote you; if not—” He made a gesture sufficiently
explanatory.
He led the way back to his private chamber, postponing for the time his
conference with Miriam. A glance at the pentagonal plate as he entered the
room was enough to show him that the report had been no flight of
imagination. He seated himself at the table and concentrated all his
faculties upon the situation.
The indicator for No. 19 was wavering loosely back and forth, and
responded to no efforts to extract information. He tested No. 20. After a
short interval the sign of attention was received. “Has anything unusual
occurred?” he asked, in a tone which he divested of any emotion.
Rapidly and confusedly the message was poured into his ear from the
annunciator:
“Assistant on the way with full details. The collapse was sudden and
complete. No. 19; also a shock in No. 7 and instruments displaced. Does
not appear to be seismic. Sheer cleavage of rock between us and No. 19.
Building overset in bed of river. Operators drowned. No explosive sounds.
Guards report no one seen in neighborhood. Selections of stations
indicates design. Circuit interrupted. Fear further disturbances. No. 5—”
There was a break, and then, faintly and agitatedly, “Your presence seems
urgent.”
Torpeon rose from the table. He moved a lever, which disconnected the
plate and closed the annunciator. His bearing was composed, and he smiled
nonchalantly upon the trembling servant who had been standing beside the
doorway.
“You were partly correct,” he said adjusting his mantle and taking up a
short truncheon from a shelf beside the table. He detached from it a metal
ring, stamped with the device of a triangle within a square. “Take this to
the captain of the guard—it is your warrant of authority—and tell him to
hold a hundred men in readiness. The matter is of slight importance, but
we may have to enforce a little discipline. After delivering the order,
return here, and keep watch outside this door till I come back. If any one
attempts to enter, put him under arrest. If he resists, kill him. Give no
information and answer no questions. Have you understood me?”
“Yes, gracious prince!”
Motioning the man to precede him, he closed the door behind them; the
messenger hurried away on his errand, and Torpeon departed with a
leisurely step down the corridor.
Never before, however, had the Prince of Tor felt such consternation as
now. He was being attacked by an enemy who seemed to be cognizant of his
plans, and who was able to overcome his precautions and produce
inexplicable results. He could not doubt that Lamara must be the unseen
power behind the attack, and that she meant to defeat his great
enterprise. How she had divined his purpose he could only conjecture; and
he was amazed that she had so far departed from traditional Saturnian
custom as to undertake offensive operations. He had not counted upon such
an innovation, and could not estimate her resources. That they might prove
superior to his own seemed not improbable. She had already annulled the
painfully devised measures by which he had believed his undertaking could
be secretly carried out, and he be beyond reach of pursuit or hindrance
before it was discovered.
Nevertheless he would not admit failure. If he were prevented from
prosecuting his first plan, there was yet a desperate alternative left.
Nor would he surrender Miriam. If the end of all things earthly were to
come for him, she would perish with him. And perhaps, with her as a
hostage, he might be able to parley with the enemy, and obtain terms which
his unaided power was inadequate to secure. But, at best, the outlook was
dark.
He left the castle by a private way, and was conveyed by an instantaneous
subterranean route to the scene of the disaster to the laboratories. The
spectacle was even more sinister than he anticipated.
The volume of water rushing down the river-bed was much greater than ever
before, dark in color, and sweeping with it huge masses of drift and
wreckage. Whirlpools had been formed at various points, which sucked in
and again tossed aloft fragments of buildings and bodies of animals, some
human ones among them. The ruins of No. 19 formed a sort of island in the
midst of the headlong stream, against which it raged like a snarling wild
beast, gnawing at it with its foaming fangs, and ever and anon tearing
shreds of it away. The rocky headland on which No. 20 stood had been
partly undermined, and the structure was held at a slant, threatening
momentarily to subside altogether. Nos. 7 and 5 were out of sight round a
bend of the river, but there was no reason to suppose that their plight
was better than the others. The long-sought results of Toridian science
were brought to naught.
The wild-looking figure of a man appeared round the headland of No. 20,
and came running in Torpeon’s direction, tossing up his arms and shouting
insanely. He was half naked, bony and hairy, and swung a sling in his
hand. On catching sight of Torpeon he halted, and at first turned to flee;
but, taking courage, faced about again, and snatching a sharp-cornered
stone from his girdle sent it whizzing at the prince from his sling.
Torpeon raised the truncheon that he carried, and the stone was deflected
from its course and fell harmlessly. The man started to escape, but the
truncheon, pointed at him, took the power from his legs, and he fell to
the ground.
Torpeon went up to him as he lay groveling, and turned him over with his
foot.
“So this is my friend, Krotox!” he said with a low chuckle. “It’s a
pleasure to meet with you again so soon!”
“Sublime prince, spare me!” whimpered the creature. “I have done nothing.
I will reveal all I know!”
“I should be sorry to give you that trouble,” Torpeon replied. “But I am
looking for reports from No. 19; I will send you to hasten them.”
He took up the wriggling wretch by a leg and arm and carried him to the
brink of the torrent. Krotox shrieked and chattered like a hyena. The
prince swung him to and fro and far out into the turmoil of waters. The
current snatched him, and in a moment dashed his head against an abutment
of the steel dome. Torpeon watched the dead body drift downward, revolve
in an eddy, and pass out of sight.
“Can it be Lamara who uses such instruments?” he muttered. “If this be a
mere insurrection of the exiles, there is more hope than I feared.”
He turned and strode away toward No. 20.