Fortress in the Fen
Out of the depths of despair, Amarro's simple query came to Duane like
the warm and welcome hand of a friend in blinding fog. Excitement
hammered his pulse-beats to a rising fever. In vain he reminded himself
that Amarro's choice of words might be purely coincidental, that the
Daan prison guard might be, as he had claimed, merely curious. For
Steve was thinking of Okuno's last instructions. He heard again the
voice of the grave and gentle masquerader on Earth:
"Mark well this interchange, O Slumberer. Should one say to you, 'Have
you kinsmen on distant Terra?', answer that questioner--"
And--for better or worse--Steve responded as he had been told.
"Aye," he said, his eyes searching Amarro's face, "I have many
brothers."
And his breath caught in his throat as the guarded light in Amarro's
eyes lifted, and his captor said firmly but clearly, "The brave never
lack for brethren, O Dwain!"
A cry of gladness almost escaped Duane's lips. Okuno had spoken truly
when he said that even in the most unexpected places might he find
allies.
"Then you," cried Steve, "are one of us. You, too--"
"_Hush!_" Amarro warned him sharply. "Careful, O Dwain! Warn them not.
We must move swiftly.
"When we reach the barricade, I will pause to remove your bonds, and
motion you toward the prison camp with leveled ray-gun. You must seize
the gun and strike me senseless with it. Stay not your strength, but
strike hard and true that none may suspect me. It is important I should
remain at this post I have held ever since the _former_ Amarro visited
Earth."
"I get it," breathed Steve. "_Then_ what shall I do? Where shall I go?"
"Flee to the swamp-edge," Amarro's nod designated the direction.
"There, beside a small dock, you will find a motor-skiff. Leap into
this, press the red stud on the instrument panel, and its automatic
controls will speed you to my private refuge hidden in the fens. There
await me. I shall come to you as soon as possible."
"And the other prisoners?"
"Think not of them, O Dwain, but of yourself. Now, the moment
approaches--"
"Wait," breathed Steve hastily. "There is one thing vitally important.
You heard my request for distillation apparatus?"
"Yes."
"Then somehow see that this machinery is smuggled to those in the camp.
Will you do this?"
"I will, O Dwain. And now, in the name of freedom, strike--and strike
hard!"
And with the words, Amarro sheared the bonds from Duane's wrists,
thrust a hand against Steve's shoulder coarsely, and cried that all
might hear, "Into your wallow, pig of Earth! Join your fellow--_aaah_!"
His sentence died in a groan as Steve, obeying his instructions to the
letter, tore the weapon from his grasp and slashed it violently across
the Daan's head. Amarro sank to the ground, a limp and sodden mass. And
Duane fled.
* * * * *
Hours later, when Stephen Duane and Amarro met again, it was under
strangely new conditions. When, from the tiny island upon which his
precipitant flight had ended, he heard throbbing in his ears the hum of
an atomic motor similar to that propelling the boat which conveyed him
hither, he rose and sought cover, emerged only when he was certain the
arrival was none other than his newfound ally. Then he hurried to the
beach and welcomed Amarro.
"Thank God," he breathed, "you're all right! I couldn't wait to see.
But you fell so heavily I was afraid I struck too hard."
Amarro grinned ruefully.
"You struck," he assured Steve, "hard enough. But that was well. I was
still unconscious when they found me. No one dreams I aided your escape.
"Should you wonder how I managed to get here so soon, I'm supposedly
searching for you. And I am but one of scores, O Dwain. Grudo sent an
emergency call to headquarters, and soon these fens will be combed by a
hundred bloodthirsty Daans."
Steve said, "Then must I press on still farther?"
"No. This island is small, and it is but one of thousands in this wild,
uncharted swampland. Through the eternal mists they might search for
weeks without ever stumbling upon it. But even if they should--" Amarro
grinned--"they won't find you. Because you will be completely out of
sight."
"On this exposed beach?"
"Only surfaces," reminded Amarro, "are exposed, O Dwain. There is more
here than meets the eye. Help me shift these motorcraft to concealment;
then I will show you."
A few minutes later, their boats hidden beneath the small landing pier,
Amarro led Steve to what appeared to be a small natural promontory near
the center of the island. Before a huge granite boulder, taller by half
than a man, he stopped, scrabbled briefly in the sand, and uncovered
a small metal disc. This he fingered in a curious fashion. And as he
did so, Stephen Duane gasped aloud. For the boulder, which had seemed
firmly entrenched in its foundation, swung smoothly to one side,
exposing a narrow, artificial passageway leading into the subterranean
bowels of the island refuge.
* * * * *
Amarro turned, smiling.
"Here, O Slumberer, is my _real_ refuge, prepared against our hour of
pressing need. Follow me to that which will be your home on Daan so
long as you have need of one."
Full twenty feet the corridor drove into the heart of the jungle
island, then opened into a series of underground chambers which were
to be Stephen's hideout. And looking upon this place, hope blossomed
within Duane more strongly than it had ever dared since his wakening
from an age-old slumber.
For everything was here ... everything. Not only food and drink
with which to sustain life, but the little luxuries--soft beds
and warm clothing; a musical instrument, the Daan's equivalent of
a phonograph; books to read--were stored here as well. And--most
important--constructed within the refuge were those two things which
Duane needed most. A compact but efficient chemical laboratory, and
a powerful ultra-wave communicator over which he could converse with
Okuno on far-away Earth.
Swiftly Amarro instructed him in the operation of those Daan inventions
with which he was not familiar. The atomic cooking-range and
incinerating unit, the ultra-wave transmitter. Then he gripped Steve's
hand in farewell.
"I place my hand in thine thus, O Dwain," he said, "for thus I am told
men pledged their faith in the old days. I must go now, ere my absence
awakens suspicion. But be of good cheer. That which you asked me to do
for the prisoners will be taken care of. Hidden safely here, do what
you can and must, and from time to time I will visit you. But be at all
times cautious. Stay off the surface of the isle, and answer no calls
unless they be from voices you recognize. Goodbye."
And he was gone.
* * * * *
So settled Stephen Duane for a period which on Earth would have been
reckoned as three weeks. On slower-turning Venus, and especially here
in these marshes which knew only the filtered light of cloud-drenched
sunshine, it was hard to mark the passage of time. But days and nights
meant nothing to Duane. When he hungered, he ate. When his brain and
body wearied of the innumerable tasks to which he set himself, he slept.
Nor was his period of incarceration dreary. There was much to occupy
his time. Twice Amarro came furtively and left with equal stealth, each
time advising Steve as to the progress of those still captive in the
prison camp.
Much, Amarro told him, had been accomplished. The administrative
buildings of the camp were a beehive thronged with Daan warriors who
each dusk returned disgruntled and petulant. Meanwhile, as the search
for the fugitive Slumberer preoccupied the Daans, the back-breaking
labor of the Earth prisoners had been suspended. Amarro, with no voice
to say him nay, had requisitioned a "water distillation unit" for the
convict barracks. And now night and day earthmen and women labored
with rekindled vigor to turn out in vast quantities containers of that
gaseous by-product Chuck Lafferty was distilling from Venusian _klaar_.
"It is my task," Amarro said proudly, "to smuggle these containers out
of the camp and into those strategic points which we must strike when
the Day of Freedom dawns. And you, O Dwain? You have spoken to our
brethren on Earth?"
"Constantly," Steve told him grimly. "And there's good news from
there, too. Okuno tells me word of the Slumberers' wakening has
spread like wildfire throughout all of Tizathy. Converts flock to our
rallying-points from every mount and valley, lake and plain.
"One strong and gallant ally has Okuno found. A golden
warrior-priestess from the hills of Jinnia. It appears this priestess,
Meg, and her consort, one known as Daiv, are of a superior wisdom and
culture. For several years they have known the Great Secret: that the
gods of old were no 'gods' at all, but men like us. And in their own
small way they have transmitted the Revelation over vast areas. Now
have they joined our cause, and those who follow them number in the
hundreds of thousands. But you spoke of strategic points, Amarro? You
mean the palace of the Supreme Council; such places as that?"
"That is the one place," confessed Amarro ruefully, "we have been
unable to cache cylinders of our anesthetic weapon. But elsewhere in
public buildings, and even on ships of the Great Armada--"
"Wait!" interrupted Steve sharply. "That reminds me. Here is something
Chuck Lafferty will want to know--"
And before Amarro left, Duane sketched for him a series of diagrams
which should prove of vital interest to Lafferty's laborers when, as
Amarro had phrased it, the Day of Freedom dawned.
* * * * *
Thus three weeks sped more swiftly than waters churning a millrace. And
at last came the hour when Duane felt the long-delayed blow might be
struck.
He knew full well the dangers before him and his comrades. But he knew
equally well that their preparations were as well laid as was humanly
possible, and that with each succeeding day the danger of their
conspiracy being detected loomed ever nearer.
Thus, speaking to Okuno over the now familiar ultra-wave circuit, he
issued to that salient's commander the order Okuno had been awaiting.
"The hour has come, my friend," he said simply. "Strike when you will."
Across more than twenty-five million miles of yawning space Okuno's
voice broke in a little gasp.
"You mean we can strike without fear of reprisal, O Slumberer? The
Venusian fleet has been rendered impotent?"
"Not as yet," said Duane. "But it will be. You on Earth must strike
before we do. We need the confusion and turmoil into which news of your
uprising will throw the Daan militia to serve as a shield concealing
our own final preparations. When excitement has blinded them to the
small but important movements we must make, we too will strike."
"So be it," acknowledged Okuno with a blind confidence which warmed
Duane's heart. "Then this shall be our last conversation, O Eternal
One, until the fight is won. May the gods of Earth bless you!"
"And may they," said Duane, "fight at your side as you herald the
dawning of a new day. Till we meet again, my friend!"
And the connection was severed.
There remained now but one thing. To inform Amarro when he visited that
night--as he had promised to do--that already the Earth rebellion was
under way, and to set into motion those wheels which his and Lafferty's
efforts had greased.
So Stephen Duane, tense and impatient for the first time since he had
sought refuge, paced the floor of his underground refuge like a caged
tiger, awaiting the grate of stone upon sand which would bespeak
Amarro's arrival.
But the sound which finally reached his waiting ears was one even
more cheering. For it was as though Amarro, by some prescience, had
guessed the significance of this night's meeting. The sound which
reached Duane's ears from the island surface was not the guard's
husky whisper--but the sound of his own name, loudly cried in a dear,
familiar voice.
"Dwain! Steve! Where are you? Open to me swiftly!"
Duane's heart leaped. Beth! Amarro must have told her of this spot, and
in the fogs above she was searching for him on a barren island.
He needed no second bidding. Eagerly he raced up the corridor, released
the catch which opened the boulder door, stepped forth--and into
sight of a company of armed Daans at whose head stood Grudo, and with
whom was a silver woman who, even now, was lifting again her voice in
perfect imitation of Beth's loved tones.
"Dwain! O Steve!"
Steve Duane choked, "Loala--you! It was a trick; a trap!"
Then he said nothing more. For at that moment something brutally
hard smashed down upon his head with crushing force. The fog of Daan
thickened to eddying darkness, and Stephen Duane pitched forward,
senseless, into the waiting arms of his captors.