Part of Gene's hunch proved correct. The Beast People were camped just
outside the valley, this being verified by scouts sent out from the
city late that evening. It was logical to suppose that the suspected
attack would also become reality in the near future. There was little
sleep for him that night. He lay with eyes open, thinking--but little
did he solve.
Kac personally brought Gene's breakfast to him the following morning.
The sad face of the chief's son was even sadder this day.
"Many of my people shall no longer know the hardships of life," he told
the explorer. "One hundred of them fell before the onslaught of the
Beast People. And--sorrow floods my heart--women and children account
for more than half of the dead.
"Gene, my friend, my tribe is grateful for your succor in its hour of
peril. But for you, the caves would now be in the filthy hands of our
most despised enemies. Yea, you have proved yourself a warrior, and we
belatedly welcome you as a brother."
Gene was already engrossed in the food, and an unintelligible grunt
was the best he could do in the way of a reply. Kac sat on the floor,
watching him with wonder--and more than a touch of pity. His brow was
furrowed with thought, and suddenly he spoke:
"You are not like those, those _others_, Gene. The legends tell us
_they_ were cruel, merciless. But you are kind, just, and your mind
knows no deceit. Spawn of the _others_ you may well be, yet their
inhuman traits dwell not in you."
Gene looked up puzzledly. "Hey! What in Deimos' Dungeons are you
talking about? Who are these _others_, and what makes you think I'm
in cahoots with them? Listen, Kac, I'm an Earthman--flesh and blood,
bone and hair, every single atom. Before Man, there were no intelligent
creatures on Earth; and as for Man himself doing you some great wrong,
it could not possibly have happened. Your planet is unknown to my
world; I myself discovered it only by the most unusual circumstances.
You've got me dizzy with all this talk about supposed wrongs, so how
about putting our cards on the table?"
Kac rose, nodding gravely. "Thus was it foretold. Time has erased all
memory of the evil deed of your race. But our remembrance of it is as
a flame that grows not weaker, but stronger, with the years. Come now,
Gene Drummond, and learn of your sin."
Gene followed the tall barbarian from the cavern, excited and more
than a little apprehensive. As they walked, he noted that many warriors
were on guard throughout the community. That was good. Looking up, he
noticed for the first time that a naked, black mountain reared into the
sky but a half-mile or so back from the valley wall wherein the caves
were situated. That, too, was good. The Beast People would be forced to
come at them from the fore.
The trail led to the Cave of Talkers. Down the broad steps, across the
flat stone floor, they went wordless and in awe. The giant machines
loomed before them, throbbing and pounding with such a clamor as to
bring Gene's hands to his ears.
He soon grew accustomed to the noise, however, and went on with Kac to
a small niche carved in a wall of the chamber. A vault rested in the
recess, and from it Kac took a long metal tube; from this, a musty skin
scroll.
The towering tribesman turned and looked deep into Gene's eyes. "Now,"
he said, "now shall I read to you from this ancient record, written by
those long dead for all Wronged Ones to study and learn therefrom of
the terrible injustice done to their ancestors. It is not pleasant,
Gene. Will you hear it?"
The biologist nodded, a tight feeling around his heart. What unhappy,
haunting knowledge was about to come to his mind?
"It is short," Kac murmured. "Those who wrote it knew so little of what
actually happened. Too, the language in which it is written is all but
lost to us. But it is my fancy that when you have hearkened to these
few words, little space will remain in your mind for other thoughts."
"Go ahead, read it," Gene said hoarsely. "I don't run from the truth,
even though it may cut to the quick."
* * * * *
Kac began; reading swiftly, yet comprehensively: "Long were we, the
Wronged Ones, happy on our beautiful world. Like a green jewel in
space it was; a treasure lost from the bosom of the Mother Sun in some
careless moment.
"True it is that we were of simple minds; even so, great things were
destined for our race. As evolution worked its miracles the ignorance
that was born with us dropped away, and in its place came a high order
of intelligence.
"We built, tilled the soil, and forever sought new knowledge to enrich
our hungry minds. Our civilization was rising, forging ahead. The
fertile soil gave abundantly of its treasure; power for our machines
came from the Mother Sun itself.
"Then, disaster fell upon our world. Through space, with a far greater
speed than light, stabbed an insidious ray--stealing our minds, our
egos. Our bodies remained, but the egos that controlled them were
drained away and hurled through the void.
"Great was our consternation to find ourselves on an alien world,
inhabiting alien bodies; and bitter were we when we realized the egos
that had formerly possessed these organic vehicles were now dwelling in
_our_ bodies, on our own fair world. A planet of deadness was this upon
which our intellects had been cast, but we were determined to live on
and someday know vengeance.
"In a word: in one horrible second, and much against our will, we had
traded worlds with a desperate, dying race--our sphere of abundance for
theirs of desolation.
"The machine with which the usurpers had accomplished this was beyond
our comprehension, though our scientists worked long and feverishly to
solve its secret. Long after, we came to the conclusion the machine had
been captured from the Beast People and one of their number forced to
operate it.
"Truly, we found a dying half-man in this cavern. He had been poisoned,
so we could not force him to operate the machine for us and take back
the planet and organisms that were rightfully ours. Not until many
years after did we succeed in capturing a number of the Beast People,
only to find they had lost the knowledge of the ego-transposer's
working. They were devolving at a rapid pace, and soon we, too, began
to know the ravages of degeneration, though it did not act with such
speed on us--perhaps only for the reason that we were determined to
stave it off and one day return to our much-mourned world.
"Here were we, a rising race, now doomed to extinction by a treacherous
people too weak to face the destiny ordained for them. It is true these
people were intelligent, after a fashion, but there is little knowledge
to be had on this rock-world and when the limit is reached, the mind
must retrogress.
"There will be mutations on our lost world, for our planet was
possessed of a much larger population than this of the transgressors.
Thus when the hellish ego-transposer effected the change, many on
our world were left mindless, with only the instincts of the beast
remaining. Inter-breeding will greatly reduce the intelligence of the
entire population for a time--though they will without doubt arise once
more to a new greatness, for the means are there for them.
"There can only be sorrow, despair, and untold misery for us. Before
the gods, there can be no greater trespass than this."
Kac's voice trailed away.
Sick dread was on Gene's face. "Kac," he whispered, "What was the name
of this world that was stolen from you?"
"Ours was the third world nearest the sun," the tall warrior answered
with true regret. "The planet you call Earth...."
Gene's torment of mind knew no bounds in the following hours. Kac had
left him in the cavern, warning him not to destroy the Talkers or the
tribe would surely slay him. The biologist had given his word and even
if he had wished, he could not have violated it; for nothing short of
an atomic-cannon could rend the metal of which the titanic machines
were built.
He had an atomic-cannon mounted on his ship, _New Frontiers_, but what
good was it? He could not get to it--the Beast People surrounded the
valley and would nail him the moment he appeared over the rim.
A small platform extended from the ego-transposer, midway up, and to
this he climbed via a ladder depending from it. A bucket seat was
anchored to the flooring. He dropped in it and began studying the
instruments before him.
Outside of two silver-beaded screens, the fixtures were simple ones and
quite easy to understand. Yet, his manipulations brought no results.
Long after night fell, he worked with the machine, and when done, he
left with the knowledge that he was its master. The troublemaker turned
out to be a broken wire; simple, yet it had stumped the Wronged Ones.
The plainest things are often the hardest to see.
The other machine defied solution. Kac had told him that it, too, had
been captured from the Beast People, who avowed that it generated rays
beneficial to vegetable and animal life.
Gene learned definitely, though, that it was the cause of Earth's
plight. The working of it was beyond him, but this much he knew. This,
then, was the traitorous Beast People's way of exacting vengeance--by
deliberately misinforming their captors as to the machine's purpose.
Too, they had tampered with some vital part, making it impossible to
shut off the power.
There was no guessing how long it had been sending that deadly ray
through space, slowly disintegrating all metallic matter in its path.
In a few years, maybe months, metal molecules would be drawn so far
apart that every structure on Earth would collapse under its own weight.
He thought his brain would burst, so many troubles did it hold. To
add to them, Kac brought word that the Beast People were massing for
another attack. This would be the final battle, with no surcease till
one or the other of the clashing forces fell in decisive defeat--and
Gene knew with dread that it could only be the Wrong Ones who would go
down.
V
The onslaught came the next day. Hundreds of the Beast People poured
into the valley--screaming, gibbering, eager to taste blood. They moved
over the rocky surface like some evil blight cast up from the uttermost
depths of Hell.
Gene's oil trick would not work now, for there was no oil with which to
carry it through. The plants from which it was obtained grew outside
the valley, and no one had dared venture forth to pluck them. The tribe
would not be in misery much longer.
The warriors had thrown up a stone barricade in front of the caves, and
from behind this they looked out upon the fast-approaching horde. Not a
man among them looked with fear, but with contempt and detestation for
the vermin that came to crush them.
The invaders were within range now. Gene raised his energy-ray and
tightened his finger around the trigger. Nothing happened. Its power
was exhausted by the almost constant use to which he had put it since
arriving here. He flung it aside and snatched up a spear.
The first wave of half-men loosed a hail of crude shafts, hurling them
with all the venom that was in their black hearts. Some went to the
mark, piercing the breasts of those too slow in ducking. Their aim was
poor, but they had many spears and many men to throw them.
Gene tossed his own javelin and had the pleasure of seeing it bury
itself in the neck of a squat creature, severing the jugular. Then the
battle waxed furious.
The tribe fought desperately to stem the tide. Even Old One and the
venerable warriors whose day of battle should be past added their bit
to the cause. But nothing could turn those squealing, hate-maddened
beings that charged.
Of a sudden, a hairy, hideous face poked above the barrier. The thing
snarled and pulled itself over the rocks to land squarely on Gene.
Man and beast met in a fight for life. The slavering brute bore Gene
down with crushing strength, wrapping an arm about his waist and
pushing back on his chin, trying to snap his spine.
The agony was unbearable. Gene brought up a hand and clamped it on the
back of the half-man's head, digging his thumb in behind the ear.
An infinite moment passed, then his adversary straightened slowly,
swaying on his feet. The biologist quickly wound his arms around its
neck and went dragging it over the ground to a boulder. Once, twice, he
bashed the filthy head against the stone. The lifeless body dropped.
Hand to hand battles were raging all about Gene, and though the Wronged
Ones fought valiantly, the knowledge was in their eyes that they were
lost.
In horror, he saw Old One threshing about on the ground, the fangs
of a half-man fastened in his throat. Before Gene could move, an
avenging form hurtled through the air and lit on the hell-creature.
A stone dagger came down, slashing, tearing, wielded by the hand of a
grief-maddened Kac.
The explorer turned away, a choking lump rising in his throat. Then,
in his sorrow, a daring plan came to him. Heart thumping against its
prison of ribs, he raced away to the Cave of Talkers.
* * * * *
No one was there. The women and children were all huddled in their
homes and, of course, every man was outside defending the city. He
clambered up to the platform and threw himself in the bucket seat,
hoping against hope that this experiment would work.
The ego-transposer hummed with unholy sentience as he threw in a
switch, and a soft glow appeared deep in the silver-beaded screens.
Slowly, the image of a tiny organism took form on one screen. Almost at
the same moment an identical likeness swam into view on the other. Then
began a parade of life-forms across the screens, each succeeding animal
a bit higher on the evolutionary scale than its predecessor.
The sounds of battle grew nearer. He had to hurry now.... Ah! There!
The flat, repulsive face of a half-man loomed before him. His finger
stabbed at a stud, and the likeness was transfixed on the screen.
The procession continued on the other glowing surface until the
physique of a Wronged One took shape in the depths and came to focus.
The two reproductions stared out at him with unwinking eyes. Deep in
the bowels of the machine the basic mind make-up of the beings was
being analyzed. An instant later the throbbing transposer would set up
an en masse connection with the race egos, then....
A green light flashed on the panel and Gene brought his hand forward on
the master switch. It was done!
Elated, he scrambled down from his perch and hurried outside. As he
passed between the strangely inactive creatures at the entrance, a
horrified voice croaked: "What terrible deed has been done?"