A flame of pure thought ... green and unspeakably
vile ... thrust from its own supra-dimension into
the Solar warp, it found one whose malignance
matched its own--and who would bargain with it.
Against them--Ketrik, outlawed and alone!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1946.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Ketrik came in from Perlac, came fast, using the Frequency Tuner all
the way. Now his great bulk came forward in the control-seat, his eyes
fastened intently on the dark blue disk of Earth that loomed ahead.
"Strange," he muttered. "Strange, no Patrollers! I expected an escort
at least, if not a challenge!"
But no one heard. Ketrik, as always, had come alone. The helio from
Mark Travers, recorded on the sensitized receivers at Perlac, had
been more than a summons and a plea; it had contained an undertone
of urgency. Ketrik had left at once, making the trip from the newly
discovered outer planet in record time, thanks to the secret power-unit
which the Earth Council still coveted.
Ketrik thought of that now, as he neared Earth where he had not set
foot for so long. He remembered the tedious negotiations between
Earth and Perlac, designed to bring the latter planet into the Solar
Federation--a status hardly equitable to the Perlac government, due
to Earth's high-handed demands. For Earth still claimed priority on
Brownell's "Frequency Tuner," despite the fact that he had been forced
to flee with his invention to Perlac; and since then there had been an
alarming exodus of Earth's scientists to Perlac where they could work
out their ideas unhampered.[1]
[Footnote 1: _Passage to Planet X_, Planet Stories, Winter, 1945.]
The Earth Council remained haughty, adamant. Only six months ago there
had been a skirmish beyond Jupiter in which several Earth Patrollers
had gone to flaming destruction against the speedy Perlac ships. The
"Perlac Incident" was developing into open, bitter warfare. Venus
remained wisely aloof, riding a crest of peace under the reign of
Princess Aladdian. And on Mars, Dar Vaajo sat brooding on his ancient
throne, silent and watchful.
"Maybe I'm being a fool," Ketrik murmured now as he crossed the orbit
of Earth's moon. "Mark Travers guaranteed me safe landing and full
protection--nevertheless--"
Weary but still cautious, he switched to the auxiliary rocket-power,
then went to work dismantling the Frequency Tuner. In a short time
he had jumbled the unit into a confusion of its component parts, and
carefully hid it away. He trusted Mark Travers ... but there were
others.
As he picked up the grav-beam for his landing, he thought again of
Mark. It would be good to see him again after four years. He wondered
if the lad's status as "Member of Council" had changed him any. Even
more, he wondered at Mark's urgent message.
The city spread below. Then the landing field. Ketrik berthed with
practiced ease, stepped down from the lock.
* * * * *
The guards closed in fast. There were dozens of them. Ketrik had only
time to glimpse the black-and-silver insignia of the elite Council
Guard, the drawn guns and grim purpose on their faces. Even as he
whirled back toward his ship, the deadly song of a heat-beam sounded
past his ear--so close he could feel the swirling scorch of it.
Ketrik came erect and motionless. He turned slowly, brain wry with the
thought that he'd come into a trap after all. But he smiled--a twisted
smile which failed to erase the hard lines of his face. His eyes were
a puzzle, gray and serene but somehow mocking beneath the dark bangs
tumbling across his forehead.
The Guards formed a watchful circle about this man whose deeds were
renowned throughout the System. For a moment their Captain hesitated.
Then, squaring his shoulders, he stepped forward. His gun became
intimate with Ketrik's wishbone.
"George Ketrik, I arrest you by order of the Supreme Earth Council! You
will come along peaceably or suffer the consequences!" The man's voice
was overly loud, arrogant. With a dramatic gesture he removed Ketrik's
gun, then whirled him into the hands of the Guards. They marched toward
a waiting tube-car. Other guards were trying to keep back the crowd,
passengers for the Venus Express who thronged the field.
Ketrik's eyes were emotionless now, devoid of color. He said
tonelessly: "Taking quite a chance, aren't you, Captain? I've only
counted fifty of your men."
"We've heard too much about you, Ketrik! And we want you alive--that's
why we didn't try to take you in space. I'm glad you're being sensible
about this."
Ketrik shrugged his towering shoulders as though to say, "Why not?"
But his mind raced. So they wanted him alive. They were nearing the
tube-car now, and the crowd, eternally curious, was trying to press in.
It was now or never. Ketrik stumbled. His elbow shot back, caught the
captain in the stomach. With the same motion he snatched the latter's
heat-gun, and bending low, lunged to the left. The crowd parted before
his onrush. Women screamed at sight of the gun he waved before him.
Ketrik heard shouts and curses from the startled guard, but he knew
they wouldn't fire into the crowd. A uniformed man loomed before him,
swinging a gun-fist up. Ketrik was quicker. The guard went down from
a sledge-hammer blow. Grinning joyously, Ketrik evaded two others. He
twisted and turned through the crowd, with some notion of gaining the
tube-car and escaping into the heart of the city.
And it might have worked. Now a path was opening clear. But this time
he really stumbled, lost his balance momentarily. It was enough to
allow the guards to close in. Ketrik twisted erect, felt clutching
hands upon him and heard the bellowing voice of the captain. He swung
out with his arms, felt men flung backward. He tried to bring up the
heat-gun.
This time someone else was quicker.
A heavy weight crashed against Ketrik's head, a sun exploded into
millions of fragments which dwindled away as he plunged forward into
darkness.
* * * * *
He regained his faculties quickly. His subconsciousness demanded it.
This curious "awareness" in which Ketrik had trained himself had saved
him from many a tight scrape.
But now he did not open his eyes at once. He knew he was in the
tube-car, for he could feel the cushioned seat beneath him and the
faint vibration of the gyro-motors. Then he became aware of another
fact.
He was alone.
This brought him to his feet, wide-eyed and alert. He felt the weight
of his own gun again in his belt, examined it, found it still loaded.
Strange!
Where were the guards? Why should they be sending him somewhere alone?
A glance at the _crystyte_ window revealed a flashing panorama of the
city. He knew he was moving at terrific speed, probably on a special
"right-of-way." To attempt an escape now would be suicide.
He shrugged, settled down in the seat. His capture had been well
planned, but he failed to see what the Council hoped to gain by it!
Ketrik felt a surge of cold fury at this treachery--a treachery in
which Mark Travers must have had a hand.
Presently a braking signal flashed green. The tiny car sighed, as
though exhausted from its headlong route across the city. It came to a
stop against the forward cushion of air, and doors of _duraplon_ slid
smoothly back.
Hand near his gun, Ketrik emerged into a long empty corridor of black
and silver. Black marble walls reached sheerly up, to curve away
into a filigreed ceiling. Priceless tapestries adorned the walls,
caught a hidden overhead glow and shattered it into lances of silver
radiance. Ketrik frowned, looking at these tapestries. Their design
was interwoven with thousands of _Kra_ plumes, those priceless silvery
plumes for which he'd risked his life many times among the wild peaks
of Ganymede. Only the very elect could afford them. He knew now, that
he must be in Earth's Council Chambers.
Again he felt a tingling awareness, knew that unseen eyes were upon
him. He straightened his shoulders and walked unhurriedly toward a
massive door at the end of the corridor. As he neared it, there came a
tiny click and the door slid back.
It was a large room but startlingly bare. A huge table of Martian
_majagua_ wood, with a dozen surrounding chairs, occupied the center.
The only other article was a magnificent Ethero-Magnum, with screen
reaching nearly to the ceiling--an instrument powerful enough for
communication with Venus, Mars, even the Callistan colonies.
To Ketrik's surprise, only one Member of Council was present. This man
had risen as Ketrik entered. Ketrik stared and it took him fully a
minute to recognize this man. It had been four years since he had last
seen him, out there at Perlac--but now Mark Travers seemed to have aged
twenty years!
Mark came slowly around the table, hand thrust out in greeting.
Ketrik's voice was like a whiplash.
"Nice going, Travers! I trusted you, so I came right into your little
trap! What is it you want--the Frequency Tuner? Or am I just plain
under arrest?"
Mark stopped in his tracks. A pained look swept across his features.
Ketrik went on mercilessly.
"And I expected a better reception than this! Where's the rest of the
Council? I'll save you time, though, and tell you that Perlac has
ceased negotiating. We're prepared to fight for our independence and
free enterprise in the System!"
"I know that, Ketrik. I'll continue to champion Perlac's cause against
all odds here!" Grim-faced, Mark began pacing the room. "As for the
other eleven Council Members--they don't even know that you've arrived
on Earth. I'm risking my position in Council, perhaps my very life, by
bringing an outsider into these chambers without a quorum present!"