Between Two Camps
It was with swiftly beating heart that Stephen Duane stepped from the
_Oalumuo's_ lift to the soil of the Overlords' planet. Staring about
him with eyes which, despite his every effort, he could not keep from
widening, he experienced again that sense of reluctant admiration for
the scientific ability of those who had made themselves mankind's
masters.
The spaceport outside Sinnaty had been marvel enough to earthly eyes,
but it paled into insignificance before the spectacle which now
presented itself. Here was no rude plain crudely hacked from a tangle
of wilderness. The _Oalumuo_ came to rest in but one of a hundred
gigantic spacevessel cradles ranged with mathematical precision upon
a tremendous, smoothly paved court studded with workshops, hangars,
warehouses, machine-shops, technical offices ... all the appurtenances
and paraphernalia of a highly organized, perfectly integrated
civilization.
Curiously enough, the dense cloud-banks through which the _Oalumuo_
had plunged to its landing did not enswaddle this scene, nor conceal
the colorfully magnificent skyline of the metropolis which surrounded
the spaceport like a heaven-spanning rampart. Or perhaps that was not
so curious as logical. For surely--Duane's swift reason told him--any
race which could create such wonders as _these_ had also long since
learned how to harness and subdue the meteorological disadvantages of
its native world. Plainly this island of freedom from the all-pervading
Venusian fog was an artificial one.
So lost was he in wonderment and speculation that it was not until a
hand touched his shoulder that he realized he was being addressed for
possibly the second or third time by the young space-officer who had
been his guide and companion throughout the journey.
He spun, startled. "Oh, I--I beg your pardon, Thaamo. I was lost in
dreaming. I did not realize--"
The friendly officer smiled.
"It is good to be home again, is it not, Captain Huumo? Fair Daan is a
delight to the eyes after lonely years of service on our colony. Ah,
well--it has been a pleasant enough journey. What are your plans now,
my Captain? You will report to the Supreme Council, no doubt?"
On this point Okuno's instructions had been clear.
Duane nodded. "Yes."
"Of course. Then you will be traveling by aereo to the palace. You had
best make haste, Captain Huumo, ere the last flight leaves without you."
The season was warm, the air dusty-dry, but there was suddenly upon
Stephen Duane's forehead a cold, dank perspiration. For, standing there
with the gaze of his acquaintance upon him, he realized in that instant
that there was too much he still did not know about the customs and the
culture of the Daans.
He knew neither _where_ the palace lay, nor what this "aereo" was by
which he might reach it, nor even in which direction he should now turn
with assured movement to dispel the half-suspicious curiosity of his
mariner friend.
But at that moment relief came from an unexpected quarter. There
sounded beside him a light tinkle of laughter and his eyes lifted to
meet the taunting, gray-green eyes of the Lady Loala.
"Hasten him not, _Aarkan_ Thaamo. Captain Huumo waits for me. But I am
ready now. Come, Captain--" She rested a pale hand lightly upon his
arm--"let us go." And gratefully Steve Duane allowed himself to be led
away.
* * * * *
But a few moments later, in the seclusion of the Lady Loala's tiny,
individual aereo, a small craft which Duane discovered to be somewhat
similar to the two-passenger planes of his own century save that it
traveled silently and effortlessly on an atomic power-beam transmitted
from central control stations, rather than by any independent motor of
its own, the argent Overlord mocked Steve for his recent awkward moment.
"You are a poor dissembler, Steve of Emmeity. Happy for you that you
masquerade only to deceive your Earth brethren, and not the Daans.
Methinks your play-acting would come to a swift end if we were those
upon whom you attempted to spy, rather than the stupider humans."
Steve grinned, not half so ruefully as the Lady Loala believed, and
conceded, "You are right, my princess. Deceit rests poorly upon my
features, even though those features _have_ been altered to make me
resemble one of your own race.
"I am afraid the Lord Okuno's efforts to make me look like a true Daan
were not altogether successful. The episode with Thaamo was not the
first time I have come near betraying my real identity. And as for
_you_--you penetrated my disguise the moment you laid eyes upon me."
Loala said softly, "Who should know thee better than I, Steve of
Emmeity? True, I recognized you immediately. But perhaps my eyes knew
you less swiftly than my heart.
"You see, human, you please me greatly. Yes, frankly, I admit it; even
I, Loala, Overlord of Sinnaty, confess I find you--interesting.
"But be of good heart. Here on Daan no other will recognize you, nor
none suspect you an earthling, as none aboard the _Oalumuo_ questioned
your race. And your secret is safe with me. Though I do not understand
why Okuno found it necessary to disguise you as a Daan when he sent you
on this mission."
"It was done," explained Steve hastily, "not to deceive the Daans, but
the men and women of Earth amongst whom I must move and mingle freely.
Were they to realize I were one of their own kind, Okuno said, they
would destroy me before ever I found a chance to identify and point out
the wakened Slumberers."
"I see," nodded Loala. "Well, Okuno is a wise Councillor. In his
judgment I place implicit faith. Still--" Her eyes met Steve's
archly--"it strikes me you have taken too seriously this mission of
yours. Those were long, lazy hours aboard the _Oalumuo_, my Steve.
Hours we might have spent pleasantly together."
And Steve said staunchly, "There is nothing under sun and stars I
should have liked better, O Vision of Loveliness. But--"
"But--?" prompted the Lady Loala.
"But the Lord Okuno has promised that if I perform this mission
faithfully and well there may await me even a greater prize than that
of mere acceptance into the Brotherhood. To a chosen few, he told me,
is granted the privilege of full Daan citizenship, complete membership
in the master race. This, O Wakener of Dreams, is my hope and my
ambition. To win that coveted honor, so I may not only become your
Earthly consort, but aspire to the position of your true Daan mate--"
Steve's eyes met those of the Venusian woman boldly. And this time it
was her pale cheeks into which crept the faintest suspicion of color as
she dropped her eyes, murmuring, "I--I fear you presume too much, Steve
of Emmeity."
But the Lady Loala was not displeased. Nor did she, Steve guessed
shrewdly, represent in any way an obstacle to his future plans. Loala
would not betray him. Any lurking doubts which might have lingered in
her bosom had been swept away by the tide of her own desires.
* * * * *
Thus, his true identity a secret known only to one Daan, and she one
who would not reveal it, the major hurdle of Stephen Duane's great
impersonation was overcome.
The Daan's Supreme Council accepted himself and his credentials for
what they purported to be, strove to discern no human lineaments
beneath his cleverly wrought mask, and freely granted that privilege
for which Duane pleaded: the right of visiting the marshland slave camp
wherein labored earthmen and women transported hither from Earth.
Standing before the Council, Steve experienced his first disappointment
in the Daans. Under the circumstances, "disappointment" was perhaps
a curious word to use, even to himself. Yet it was the only one to
describe his feelings. Up to this time he had felt bitterness toward
the Venusians for what they had done to Earth, had hated certain
members of the master race for the brutal way they had treated their
human slaves; but despite these personal animosities he had been
forced to concede an intellectual approval of their skill, their
culture, and above all, their superb scientific accomplishments.
Yet now he found himself standing not in such a trim, functional
chamber as had been the council hall of Nedlunplaza. The palace of the
Supreme Council on Daan was a sybaritic pleasure-dome which on Earth
had had its counterpart centuries before Stephen Duane first drew
breath.
It was in such a court as this the effete emperors of imperial France
had dallied with glamorous mistresses while starving subjects fell
plague-ridden in the gutters. Surrounded by such pleasures had the last
Roman tyrants squandered their heritage in riotous abandon. Here was
such opulence as had rotted the heart of Saladan's kingdom, Priam's,
Cleopatra's, and the sea-girdling empire of Phillip.
Duane needed no textbook to tell him the history of the Daans. He knew
what had happened; the evidence lay before his eyes.
The Venusians _had_ been a mighty race. Only a strong and stout-hearted
people could have raised from the morass of this eternally fog-veiled
planet such cities and such sciences. Only daring and stalwart
people could have accomplished those wonders the Daans accepted as
commonplaces. Labor had played its part in this rise to superiority;
labor of back and brain. Sweat of muscle and furrow of brow had created
an empire. But now those who had striven so mightily were gone, leaving
behind a languorous and unappreciative race to despoil the glories
their forefathers had so magnificently wrought.
The present Daan empire was a spoiled, stagnant civilization. It dwelt
amidst splendors created for it by vanished generations, reveled
greedily amongst luxuries earned by the sweat of predecessor's brows.
That was why slave labor was imported from Earth; to lift the burden of
honest toil from hands become too proud and soft to fend for themselves.
Those Daans who maintained the scattered outposts on Earth were perhaps
the last atavistic remnants of a once-great race. They, at least, could
and did work for themselves; had the strength and the courage to wage
incessant conflict for possession of a territory precious to the mother
land.
But these members of the Supreme Council, languid, lolling, grimacing
creatures who spoke in accents of exaggerated boredom, nibbled at wines
and sweetmeats as they talked, pausing from time to time to fondle
diaphanously-veiled females of their harem corps, were no opponents to
be feared. They were, rather--Steve's eyes narrowed minutely and his
jaw set--wastrels to be outwitted and overthrown.
* * * * *
Now one of the Council was speaking to him, his voice a shrill simper
of amusement.
"To the swamps, Captain Huumo? Of course you have our permission--if
you really feel you must. But why any Daan noble would choose to go
there and in this season--! Why do you wish to go?"
Steve's answer was half truthful. "Because it is said, my Lord, that at
the recent battle of Loovil were taken into custody certain humans who
call themselves the 'Slumberers.' The Chief Executioner, Okuno, sent me
hither to find these three and return them to Earth for judgment."
"Slumberers?" drawled his questioner. "But surely that ancient myth
has been exploded by now, Captain? It is written in the Archives that
when our ancestors took Earth centuries ago its people worshipped these
fabulous creatures. Have they not learned by now--?"
The Lady Loala interrupted, sharply, impatiently. Glancing at her in
surprise, Steve could not help but feel that she, too, had found cause
for disappointment in the namby-pamby behavior of her superiors.
"Pardon, O Masters," she said, "but the Captain Huumo speaks truth. We
who have lately served, _fighting_ and _working_--" she stressed the
verbs with delicate irony that escaped all save Steve--"on Earth are
conscious of a new spirit of rebellion amongst that planet's people. A
rebirth of the independence which made them bitter foes centuries ago.
"Our spies inform us that word spreads like wildfire amongst the humans
that the Slumberers have awakened, and the hour to strike for human
liberation is nigh. If this be true, there may again be bloody warfare
on our colony."
"But our fleet, my Lady--" offered one of the Masters--"it is swift and
powerful--"
"That I know," said the Lady Loala grimly, "and this I also know--that
had Daan not an armada of fighting vessels as an ever-ready threat to
hurl against Earth's children, by their vigor and strength, by their
renascent determination for freedom they might tomorrow break the bonds
of servitude in which we hold them. You may thank the waters whence our
ancestors sprang, O my Lords, that we _have_ this mighty fleet at our
command."
"We are duly grateful, Lady Loala," yawned the first Councillor
impatiently. "But since we _have_ this bulwark, there is no reason to
become apprehensive. Was it thus to warn us and spoil our pleasure
that you journeyed hither from Earth?"
The Lady Loala shrugged and abandoned the futile attempt to make her
Masters understand. "It was, my Lord. But I see now my mission has been
vain. Therefore, with your permission I shall withdraw and arrange to
return to my post with the first outgoing transport."
"Very well. But wait! Did you not say it was within your territory the
Slumberers are reputed to have awakened?"
"Aye, my Lord."
"Then since the first transport is not scheduled to leave for several
days, would it not be well for you to accompany the Captain Huumo on
his search for these--fabulous creatures?"
There was a mocking lilt to the Councillor's voice. Even Stephen Duane,
who was not familiar with Daan traits and trends, read the meaning
behind his words. Reminder of the responsibilities habitually shirked
had wakened the Council's spite. None too subtly the Lady Loala was
being punished for the temerarious violation of their languor, in thus
being sent to the equatorial swamplands.
But if Loala recognized this sentence as punishment she showed it
neither by word nor expression. Instead, with almost eager alacrity she
said, "Very well, my Lord. Your wish is my command. It shall be as you
say."
Thus Stephen Duane found himself burdened with the one companion of all
Daandom whom he wanted least to take with him on his journey.