It was unmistakably Jandro, though a blast had blackened the upper
right portion of the spacesuit and a gap showed in it.
"If the self-sealers worked, he may not have been out there too long,"
Underwood said urgently. "Dawson, drive the mob back with the big Atom
Stream, then throw a force shell over to Jandro so we can go out and
get him."
* * * * *
Dawson hurried away, calling for his mates and engineers on his way
to the control room. Underwood remained watching the exterior from
the plate. Abruptly the Disciples turned and fled in panic. The blue
radiance of the Atom Stream played about the ship, clearing a space
beyond Jandro. Then the view of all the ancient city and the fleeing
Disciples was cut off as the impenetrable force shell went out. Mason
and two of the crew were already in suits and in the lock. They opened
it the instant the force shell stabilized.
Jandro had been lying in the sunlight. That might have saved him.
Underwood thought, for the suit absorbed the radiant heat.
The three men reached the Dragboran and lifted him carefully. They did
not know whether he was dead or alive as they gently rolled him onto a
stretcher and carried him to the ship.
Underwood located Akers, the surgeon next in skill to Illia, who
ordered the surgery prepared. Underwood left his post and sought Illia.
Jandro would need all her skill if he still lived. But he wondered if
the engineer, Armstrong, did too.
Underwood found her still in the room where Armstrong lay. She was
rising from her knees as he entered.
"There was nothing to be done for him," said Illia. "I stayed until he
died. Do you need me anywhere else?"
"Yes. Jandro was shot outside. Akers is making ready, but I want you to
take over. Jandro is the key to our whole success here. If he's alive,
he's got to be kept alive."
Illia looked at him questioningly.
"I'll do my best," she cried.
Akers was quite willing for Illia to take over when he saw Jandro. The
wound was ghastly to see, slashing across the full width of the chest.
While Jandro was in surgery, Underwood called a general meeting. They
gathered rapidly in the conference room, but their worn and strained
faces were little short of tragic.
"We've lost our chance for any Dragboran super-weapon we might have
found in the ruins here," said Underwood without preamble. "We're
defenseless--except for the shell--and outnumbered. We can't run
because the fleet can run faster, and we can't stay bottled up here
forever. I can think of only one thing possible that we can do."
The others did not need to be reminded of the hopelessness of their
situation, but their eyes lighted with interest at the last sentence.
Then he outlined briefly his idea of obtaining the organs and powers
that Jandro possessed and allowing themselves to be captured and taken
to Demarzule.
"It sounds good for a last-ditch stand," said Mason. "But you haven't
explained how we are going to get back to the moon so that we can
obtain these things from the Dragbora."
"That is the one missing element of the plan," said Underwood. Then he
added fiercely, "And it's got to be solved! That's why I called you
here. I haven't the answer, but together we've got to find it. It's our
last chance to stop Demarzule."
Mason jumped to his feet. "There ought to be several hours yet before
the fleet arrives. We might have time to rig up a field generator and
set up a dummy here to make the Disciples believe we're hiding under
it, while we actually take off for the moon."
"That's it!" Underwood exclaimed. "Only we'll have to move around the
planet to avoid detection by the local garrison. But that will do it!"
The interphone sounded. Illia said, "We're finished, Del. Jandro is
alive, but he'll be dead within an hour. If you want to see him, you'd
better come now."
_CHAPTER FIFTEEN_
Underwood started for the door without hesitation. "We'll try your
plan, Mason. Take over. Dreyer, Phyfe--please come along with me."
They hurried to the room next to surgery where Jandro lay in bed,
motionless and unseeing. Only Illia and Akers were with him.
At the sight of that unmoving figure, Underwood experienced a depth
of sorrow and pity that wiped out all other thoughts for a moment.
He felt that he alone of all the Earthmen could understand the deep
rebellion, the dreams and the hopes that had been the driving force in
Jandro's life. And this was a mean end for such bright dreams--death at
the hands of crazed fanatics on a Heaven World that had proved to be
anything but that.
Underwood thought of the green, shining moon of the refugee Dragbora
where men lived in peace with one another. The moon that Jandro would
never see again.
Jandro's eyes fluttered open slowly and gradual recognition came into
them. Dreyer said softly, "We're sorry. If there were anything within
our power to get you back to your own world and your own people, we
would do it. I hope you know that."
"Of course," said Jandro slowly. "I would like my _seaa-abasa_ to be
with those of my ancestors for the day when life will return. But I
think perhaps it never will. It is like our dream of the gods, only a
delusion. As for death, that is certain for every man. How or when it
comes is not important. It is strange for me to observe the grief of
animals for a man. Strange--"
"Doesn't he suppose there was a time when the Dragbora never had the
mother-flesh and the secret of the _abasa_?" Asked Underwood, and
Dreyer translated for him.
"Naturally," Jandro replied. "We were merely animals then, as you are
now. When you came in your ships of metal, all of us thought surely the
gods had come to return us to Heaven World again. You did us a great
favor in showing us how wrong we were in our legends and our dreams.
But until we arrived on this planet, I still thought you were superior
beings because I could not detect your _epthalia_. None of us have the
ability to hide it from each other."
"But you knew it when we were attacked?" said Dreyer.
"I could not understand why you did not act to forestall your enemies
who were so apparent to me. Then I realized that it was because you did
not possess the _abasa_ at all. I was frightened because I did not know
what to do. I had never dreamed in all my life that I would meet with
creatures who might be gods because they possessed the metals, and yet
were lower than men because they did not have the _abasa_. I did not
understand."
* * * * *
"We do not understand many things about each other," said Underwood,
"but perhaps you understand us well enough now to know that we need
your help against these enemies of ours--and of yours.
"Many hundreds of thousands of years ago, there was a race, called the
Sirenians, and they were deadly enemies of your race, the Dragbora.
Like you, they possessed the _abasa_, but instead of living peacefully
they set out to conquer all the worlds and the Galaxies. In the end
they were defeated by your people who had some mysterious weapon that
penetrated every defense of the Sirenians. We came to your ancient
world to find a clue to that weapon because one of the Sirenians
succeeded in surviving and is now at large upon our own world. He
has seized control over our people and is setting out to sweep the
Galaxies with conquest and blood. In time he will find even your little
world. The civilizations of many Galaxies will suffer centuries of
retrogression.
"We didn't find the weapon we came for, and now our chance is gone, for
the fleet of Demarzule, the Sirenian, is almost upon us. There is just
one hope left to us.
"We believe that his men will capture us alive and take us to him if we
permit it. If we could be taken into his presence bearing the power of
destruction that lies in the _abasa_, we might be able to destroy him.
"Can you--will you--make it possible for us to gain that power by
grafting the _abasa_ in some of us upon your world?"
Dreyer translated as rapidly as possible the swift spoken words of
Underwood while Jandro lay with closed eyes, as if sleeping a dreamless
sleep. It was a long time after Dreyer finished that Jandro slowly
opened his eyes again.
* * * * *
His voice was so low that Dreyer had to lean forward to catch his words.
"It is a strange story you tell," he said, "but I am impressed that
what you say is true. As to your request--no. It would be utterly
impossible for you to be given fresh _abasa_ as are the young of our
race. Not that I wouldn't make it possible for some of you--a very
few--to receive them, if I could, but the _abasa_ can be installed in
only the very young.
"The use of the _abasa_ is similar to that of the organs of walking or
speaking. The organs must develop from their rudimentary forms through
long years of usage, and skill with them comes much more slowly than
any of the other common skills. Though they are installed in us in
infancy, most of us are well matured before we gain great skill. For
this reason alone it would be impossible for you to have the organs."
Across the bed, Underwood's eyes met Illia's and held for an
endless moment. In her he sought strength to endure the crushing
disappointment. Illia's eyes gave him blind assurance that there would
yet be a way.
"Your race will, in time, develop and learn the use of the _abasa_,"
Jandro went on, "but not for many hundreds of generations. From what
I have seen of your people, I wonder what your world would be like if
every one possessed the power to kill at will, silently, and without
detection. I do not know the answer to that, but I ask you to answer
it for yourselves. The mere fact that you have not yet developed the
_abasa_ is proof that you are not ready for it.
"The Dragbora live in peace not because they have such terrible power;
they can live with such power because they have first learned how men
must live with one another. You cannot understand why the power of
death is inherent in the _abasa_. It is merely one of the inevitable
functions that accompany the other greater and more useful powers, most
of which you shall, of course, never know. I wonder if you would want
the _abasa_, even if it were possible for you to possess it," Jandro
finished.
* * * * *
"For our race? No!" Underwood shuddered at the thought of every man
of Earth possessing instant, undetectable powers of death over his
neighbor. "You are right in that, Jandro. Whatever the other powers
of the _abasa_ may be, we could not live with it. But Demarzule is a
totally extraneous factor not considered in our own evolution. We have
no defense against him. If the power of death in the _abasa_ could be
used to destroy him, it would give our race its one chance of staving
off this threat.
"Yet you say it is impossible. It means for us no hope against the
barbarism that will destroy our civilization and brutalize our people,
not to mention what it means to the other civilizations of the
Galaxy--including your own."
There was scarcely the sound of their breathing within the room as the
Earthmen avoided each others' eyes now, staring down at the closed ones
of Jandro.
"Your people hardly deserve the scourge of Demarzule and the Sirenian
demand for supremacy," said Jandro slowly. "And what you say of the
rest of the Universe is true. In a way, the Dragbora are responsible.
Demarzule is a product of the Sirenian-Dragboran culture. My ancestors
should have made more sure of the total extinction of the Sirenian
branch. Perhaps there is one way in which we could yet help."
"You _can_ help?" Underwood asked eagerly and incredulously.
"I have little longer to live. It would be worthwhile if, in that hour
left to me, I could complete the task of extinction--or at least enable
you to do so. If one of you is willing to take the risk, I will do what
I can."
"No risk is too great! But what can be done?"
"As far as I know, it has never been attempted, but perhaps my own
_abasa_ could be transferred to you."
Dreyer translated the offer, his glance going from Illia to Underwood.
Something of hope seemed to come again into his eyes.
Underwood caught his breath sharply. "A set of fully developed _abasa_
transferred to my own body! There would be one of us to meet Demarzule
on his own level. Illia--"
Her face was suddenly white. "It's impossible, Del! I couldn't perform
such an operation without any previous study with their anatomy. I
can't do it!"
"It's got to be done, Illia. I'll take a chance on your skill."
"That's an utterly ridiculous statement. I have no skill in a case like
this. Tell him, Dr. Dreyer. He can't expect that much of me."
"I don't know, Illia," said the semanticist. "It seems to me that you
are confusing your analysis by your own personal emotions. You cannot
be evaluating properly under such conditions."
She bit her lips to hold back a further outburst. Then, at last she
said, "Don't ask the impossible of me, Del. I saw the way they split
the nerves in the operation we watched. It couldn't be done without
long practise. Most of all, I couldn't do it to you."
As if sensing the meaning of their argument, Jandro spoke suddenly.
"You will have great difficulty in making a successful installation
because you are unfamiliar with the anatomy of the _abasa_, true, but
I can help. I can guide and direct your hands up to the very point of
cutting the nerves to the _tri-abasa_. You shall succeed if you allow
me to guide you."
* * * * *
Underwood kept his eyes upon Illia. Her face was as pale as her shining
hair.
"I'll try, Del," she said.
News of the projected experiment sped swiftly through the ship, and
its significance was greeted with awed incomprehension as if Underwood
has suddenly stepped from their midst into a misty realm beyond their
reach. And their awe was magnified by the knowledge that it could very
well mean death.
Within minutes of the decision, assistants were rolling the tables
bearing the white sheeted forms of Underwood and Jandro into the
surgery.
A strange peace, a sort of ecstasy, seemed to have come over Jandro.
Underwood had seen and heard of resignation in the face of death, but
never such serenity as possessed Jandro. It had a calming effect upon
Underwood and he shed the thoughts of his own possible death or maiming
as a result of the strange operation. He thought only of the mission
that would be his once he owned the powers of the Dragbora.
Whatever turmoil possessed Illia had vanished as she faced Underwood.
The sterile white of her surgeon's garb masked her personality and her
feelings, and left only a nameless agent possessed of science and skill.
Underwood grinned up at her as the anesthetic was injected. "When I
wake up I'll let you know how it feels to be a Dragboran."
* * * * *
At the adjacent operating table, Akers was preparing Jandro for the
preliminary work of exposing the _abasic_ organs.
Then, to each of them came the unspoken command to abandon their
minds by Jandro. It was an incredible, unearthly experience, but they
released their senses and gradually the guiding impulses from the
Dragboran brain surged into their own.
For just the barest fraction of an instant, Illia's hand trembled
as she touched the electronic scalpel to the flesh at the base of
Underwood's shaven skull. The skin severed, and her nerves were threads
of steel.
With increasing speed, Akers and Illia made the incisions in the bodies
before them. Their hands moved surely, as if Jandro were seeing with
their eyes and using their hands.
The deep incision was made in Underwood's skull. The pulsing brain lay
exposed. Illia concentrated for an instant as waves of instruction
flowed from Jandro. Then, swiftly, the scalpel cut a bloodless path
through a section of unused tissue.
She moved to the adjacent table and peered into the wound that Akers
had made in Jandro's head. She paused as his words came to her.
"This is the final step. I can go no further with you. Attend to my
instructions now and you shall succeed."
Flashing, incomprehensible things flooded into her mind, imperishable
photographs of the remainder of this operation and the one to follow,
in which the two abdominal organs would be transferred. Illia knew
that every picture would return in its own time to guide her hands in
unfamiliar paths.
"Proceed!" Jandro suddenly commanded. "I retire to the _seaa-abasa_.
Farewell!"
The flowing pictures ceased and Illia felt suddenly alone, like a child
lost amid a blinding storm. There was nothing to depend on now but her
own skill and the telepathic instructions.