_In the Hands of the Mercutians_
A Mercutian was lolling in a reclining chair, his gray, warty face
turned half away from Hilary. He was rather undersized for a
Mercutian, standing not more than seven feet, and his gray, unwieldy
body was heavy and gross as though thickened with good living and
debauch. A fleshy three-fingered hand was pounding vehemently on the
arm of the chair. His guttural roughened voice came clearly to the
listener. He was talking to someone unseen from the angle of the
slowly widening slit. He was annoyed.
"For the last time I give you the opportunity," the Mercutian
howled--in English. "If you refuse I turn you over to Urga; he wants
you."
The crack in the door had widened perceptibly. Hilary's heart gave a
tremendous leap. Disclosed to his vision was a figure standing
opposite the Mercutian, slim, defiant, proud--Joan.
What unimaginable luck! The automatic leaped like a live thing into,
his hand. He crouched, the blood pounding in his temples, waiting for
the slide to come completely open. He dared not reach over for the
button control to shift the speed; the movement might be heard inside.
The path was clear now. Overpower the Mercutian, escape with Joan down
the deserted corridors back to the secret passageway, emerge below,
return to their hideout in the Ramapos and plan for revolt. It was all
as simple as that.
* * * * *
"We must have these Earth slaves," the Mercutian continued, unheeding.
"They, must be made an example of. They are responsible for the
unrest. They have killed Magnificents; and the Earth fools think they
can do the same. They will find out their error soon enough. But as
long as those three live, so long will the slaves hope, and plot."
"I cannot tell you anything about them," Joan said monotonously. It
was evident that this was not the first time she had said so.
"Yes you can," the Mercutian said as softly as his gutturals would
permit. "There is one in particular you know a great deal about. Urga
told me. A long-lost lover, no?" His gray-ridged countenance contorted
into a thick disgusting leer.
"There it something mysterious about him. He has no identification
tag; he releases Peabody; seems not to know the penalties. He has a
pistol, a forbidden weapon; he dares to kill a Magnificent; he eggs on
two others, ordinary Earth slaves to join him; he disappears out of
sight, in spite of all search." He was shouting now, pounding the
chair arm with complete loss of dignity. "Who is he, where does he
come from, where did he go? Answer me?"
The girl faced him boldly.
"You are afraid of him, Viceroy," she challenged. "You fear his
example. He has shown what a brave man can do; the Earth people will
follow him. The Mercutians are not invulnerable."
"Yes," the Viceroy said heavily. He was talking more to himself. Then
he realized his mistake. "No, of course not," he growled hurriedly.
"Enough of this. You tell me what I want to know or I call Urga in."
Joan's face went white, but she faced him unflinchingly.
"I do not know where he is, and if I did, I would not tell you."
"Very well then." The Viceroy leaned over to the table.
The slide was completely open now.
"I wouldn't call anyone if I were you."
* * * * *
The Viceroy whirled in his chair at the sound of the calm Earth voice,
calm yet deadly in its implications. He found himself staring into the
stubby opening of an Earth automatic, a forbidden weapon. The hand
that held it was steady, and the gray eyes that bored into his were
hard as pebbles.
There was a smothered gasp from Joan. "Hilary."
"Yes; come to take you away." He spoke swiftly. "We have no time to
waste, Joan. Is there any binding material in the room?"
"I--I believe there is. Dad always kept odds and ends in the store
chest near the bookshelves."
"Go and get it then. We'll truss up his most Mercutian
Magnificence--No you don't," Hilary said harshly; "keep your hands in
front of you and don't move."
The Viceroy was stealthily reaching for the sun-tube dangling from his
belt. He jerked his hand back, a cold sweat beading his forehead.
Hilary's finger had compressed on the trigger; the slightest extra
pressure meant flaming death.
"That's better," Hilary approved.
"You shall pay for this," howled the Mercutian, finding voice again.
"You shall suffer a hundred deaths in one."
"Softly," Hilary grinned. "Just a little while ago you were very
anxious to meet me. Now that I'm here you don't seem overmuch
pleased." Joan was rummaging frantically in the open chest.
The Viceroy started, his unlidded pink eyes opened wider. But he was
careful to keep his hands in plain view.
"You are the Earth dog who killed the Magnificents."
"I wouldn't call names," Hilary advised. "It might be unhealthy. But I
am that very individual. And I trust"--he bowed mockingly-"to have
more notches on my gun before I am through."
"You--you--shall be taken to Mercury. My father has special places for
such as you." Joan was coming now swiftly with lengths of wire, soft
thick material for swathing.
"Get me there first," Hilary said indifferently. "Gag him, Joan, so he
can't open his ugly mouth any more. Then tie him up, well."
Joan thrust the gag into the thick gash of a mouth, choking off a
torrent of imprecations in the guttural Mercutian tongue. Then she
proceeded to truss him, expertly, efficiently.
"Good job," Hilary approved. "Now with your kind permission, Most
Viceregal Magnificence, we shall go." He bowed mockingly. "Come,
Joan."
"Not so fast, Earth slave." A cold saturnine voice resounded like the
clang of doom behind him. He whirled, shifting his gun swiftly for a
quick shot.
A little gush of heat caught his trigger hand as the index finger
contracted desperately. The smarting pain tore the pistol out of his
hand. It dropped to the floor, unheeded. Hilary found himself staring
into the gross unpleasant face of Urga, a sun-tube trained directly at
his midriff.
* * * * *
"The Earth slave who tried to slink into the building," Urga said,
surprised. "How did he get up here?"
"I don't know," the Viceroy said shortly, working the gag out of his
mouth. "Don't stand there like a fool. Untie me." Gratitude was not
among the Viceroy's virtues.
Urga's face mottled as he hastened to obey. When Artok stood finally
released, he glared heavily at Hilary and Joan. Then slowly a smile
broke over his warty features, a smile that boded unutterable things.
Hilary waited quietly, ready to seize the slightest opening; Joan
pressed wide-eyed against his shoulder.
"Know this Earth dog?" the Viceroy jerked at Hilary.
Urga's glance was puzzled. "I told you I threw him out of the
entrance, but even then I felt I had seen him before."
"You have, Cor Urga," the ruler laughed shortly. "This is the one who
is responsible for the mutterings of the slaves. He slew your comrade,
Gornu."
The captain started, peered into his captive's unflinching
countenance.
"He's disguised!" he cried. "Let me kill him, Magnificent." He
fingered his sun-tube significantly.
The Viceroy was in high good humor now.
"Not so fast. You would let him off too easy. I have a better scheme.
We shall show the mutinous dogs how we treat those who revolt against
our will."
A cruel smile broke over Urga.
"I understand, Magnificent. Make a public warning of him like that
fool Peabody. Rip out his tongue and his eyes, smash his eardrums, and
ride him from city to city, in chains."
"Exactly."
Joan shuddered, convulsively. "No, no," she cried aloud in her terror,
"don't do that. I'll tell you everything; I'll do--"
"Joan," Hilary interrupted sharply, "not another word." His arm went
around her.
She collapsed against his shoulder, sobbing.
"It is too late for bargains now," the Viceroy shrugged indifferently.
"We have the man we wanted. As for the other two, you will tell us
where they are hiding anyway."
Urga turned to him expectantly.
"Your Magnificence," he urged respectfully, "you promised me the girl,
if--"
"Yes, take her." The Viceroy waved a weary hand. "I don't want her; I
have too many as it is."
The captain's face lit up with an unhealthy glow. He approached
eagerly to seize his prize. Joan gave a little cry of dismay, and
shrank closer to her lover.
Hilary tensed in every muscle. Though it meant instant death, he would
not permit that towering brute to lay his clumsy paw on Joan.
Urga reached out to clasp the frightened girl. Hilary seemed to
uncoil. His fist shot straight up with all the power of his body
behind it. It crashed into the jutting jaw of the Mercutian like a
charge of high explosive dynol. For all his height and massive
strength, the giant toppled over, thudding heavily against the floor.
For the moment Hilary saw freedom ahead. The sun-tube had fallen from
the nerveless fingers. He darted for it with the speed of a striking
snake. Even as his fingers curled around the handle, there came a roar
from the Viceroy.
"Drop it, or I'll cut you in two."
* * * * *
Hilary knew when he was beaten. Slowly, reluctantly, his fingers
uncurled. He arose, to meet the gleaming opening of the Viceroy's
weapon, and the surprised stare in back of it.
Urga got up groggily, feeling gingerly the tender point of his jaw.
There was unfathomable hatred in his lidless eyes.
The Viceroy chuckled throatily.
"I never thought, Cor Urga, to have seen a puny Earthman, a mere
midget, overcome a Mercutian. Especially you, a winner of the prize
of strength three times running in the arenas."
Urga flushed darkly.
"It was an unexpected blow; it caught me unawares," he said heatedly.
"I'll break the slave in two."
"Try it--without your sun-tube," said Hilary laconically.
The captain made a movement toward him.
"Leave him alone," Artok cried sharply. He seemed to enjoy his
Captain's discomfiture. "I have other plans for him. Now go. Take the
girl with you. I'll watch this presumptuous Earthling."
Urga advanced with an evil grin. Hilary thrust Joan suddenly behind
him; crouching like a cat. He would go down fighting. For all his
bulk, the Viceroy wheeled on his flank, raised his weapon.
"One false move, and you are dead carrion," he said coldly. His weapon
was raised. Hilary was caught between two fires, exposed to the
searing blasts that would issue at the slightest pressure.
Nevertheless he intended to strike. A sudden swerving jump, and he
might throttle one before he would be blasted into nothingness. It
would be Urga, he decided grimly. He tensed for the final desperate,
suicidal spring. The two Mercutians were watching him like unsheathed
hawks.
"Good-by, Joan," he whispered, and his muscles went taut.
Urga paused, his weapon came up sharply. One little pressure, and--
* * * * *
There was a commotion in the outer hall, the sound of padding feet.
The four in the master room froze into immobility. Two Mercutian
guards stumbled panting into the room. They came to a jerking halt,
threw themselves prone upon the floor, arms outstretched in
obeisance.
"May we speak, oh Magnificent?" they asked humbly.
"Say your say," the Viceroy said crossly.
They rose to their feet heavily, and one of them spoke.
"The Earth dogs are revolting. The Cors of the outlying districts
report that the slaves are massing and are marching on Great New York.
They are armed with Earth weapons. The Cor of the Third District
reports two men responsible--one is a giant among them, almost as tall
as our own kind; and the other a puny red-haired firebrand. The Cor
has tried to capture them, but they are elusive. Even the search beams
cannot disclose their hiding place."
Hilary's heart gave a great bound. Grim and Wat had not waited then.
The Viceroy's face darkened with anger.
"The filthy scum," he growled; "this morning's lesson was not enough.
This time I'll slay, burn, smash until there isn't a single rebel
left. I'll fertilize their damned Earth with their own black blood.
You, Cor Urga," he snapped, "transmit my orders to the Cors of the
Hundreds. They are to mobilize their men at once, and proceed in
accordance with instructions known to them as General Order One. All
conveyors to be stopped except for troop movements. Every slave found
with weapons, or acting suspiciously, to be slain on the spot. Flying
patrols to scatter in pairs, observe for concentrations of slaves. Ray
any gathering without warning. Inform Cor Algor of the _Tora_ (this
was the great armed diskoid of the Mercutians that had previously
reduced Great New York, Hilary found out afterwards) to resume his
station over the city, ready to act when I give the signal."
Even in the conflict of emotions, Hilary marveled at the
unhesitating, snapped flow of orders. The Viceroy, in spite of his
seeming gross lethargy, was a soldier, and an efficient one to boot.
"Yes, Magnificent." Urga bowed low, and departed, thrusting a
malignant glance at Hilary.
* * * * *
The Viceroy thrust off from him his bright yellow robes, wriggled his
vast bulk swiftly into a close-fitting dull-gray tunic. To his belt he
fastened little round knobs; the sun-tube dangled swankily at one
side. He was accoutered for battle.
He seemed to have forgotten the existence of the Earthlings.
"You," he snapped to one of the waiting guards, "go to the laboratory
at once; convey my strict orders to Cor Eela that the weather machine
must function perfectly. There must be no slip-up--his life will
answer for it."
"Yes, oh Magnificence." The guard prostrated himself once more, then
departed hastily.
Vast echoes resounded in Hilary's mind. "Weather machine--weather
machine," he puzzled, holding Joan the tighter. There was more to this
than met the eye. He must think.
The Viceroy turned suddenly, stared at them, fingering his tube.
"I could of course have you killed at once," he thought aloud, "and
have no further trouble; but then Urga would be angry." His lidless
eyes rested fleetingly on Joan. "And I would lose my public warning to
the few Earth dogs who will survive. If it weren't that I needed them
to till the fields, and work the machines, I would not leave a single
one alive."
He seemed to come to a decision. "You'll wait my return." He spoke
sharply to the guard. "Bind them up well. Thrust gags into their
mouths." He grimaced. "I can taste mine yet. And remember, if they
escape, just turn that sun-tube of yours on yourself. It will be
pleasanter for you. Understand?"
"Yes, Magnificent."
The obsequious guard caught hold of Hilary, under the watchful tube of
Artok, and proceeded with clumsy weighted fingers to tie him up.
Hilary did not resist. An idea was slowly forming in his mind. Joan's
turn came next.
When they were trussed so tightly that neither could move, the Viceroy
smiled mockingly. "We shall meet again, Earth dogs," he said, and was
gone.