Siblin never knew exactly what happened during those first few minutes,
nor exactly how it happened. One minute, in his sturdy plane, he was
setting up his "diversion" by directing a powerful beam of force upon
the green dome of the invaders. Suddenly his rocket ship had been
blasted apart and he had been hurled away from the madly spinning,
gyrating wreckage.
He had a confused recollection of sitting down violently upon something
very hard, and perceived dully that he was lying asprawl upon the
inside of a greenishly shimmering globe some twenty feet in diameter.
Its substance had the hardness of chilled steel, yet it was almost
perfectly transparent, seemingly composed of cold green flame, pale
almost to invisibility. He also observed, in an incurious, foggy
fashion, that the great dome was rushing toward him at an appalling
pace.
He soon recovered from his shock, however, and perceived that the
peculiar ball in which he was imprisoned was a shell of force, of
formula and pattern entirely different from anything known to the
scientists of Valeron. Keenly alive and interested now, he noted with
high appreciation exactly how the wall of force that was the dome
merged with, made way for, and closed smoothly behind the relatively
tiny globe.
Inside the dome he stared around him, amazed and not a little awed.
Upon the ground, the center of that immense hemisphere, lay a
featureless, football-shaped structure which must be the vessel of the
invaders. Surrounding it there were massed machines and engineering
structures of unmistakable form and purpose; drills, derricks, shaft
heads, skips, hoists, and other equipment for boring and mining.
From the lining of the huge dome there radiated a strong, lurid,
yellowish-green light which intensified to positive ghastliness the
natural color of the gaseous chlorin which replaced the familiar air in
that walled-off volume so calmly appropriated to their own use by the
Outlanders.
As his shell was drawn downward toward the strange scene Siblin saw
many moving things beneath him, but was able neither to understand
what he saw nor to correlate it with anything in his own knowledge or
experience. For those beings were amorphous. Some flowed along the
ground, formless blobs of matter; some rolled, like wheels or like
barrels; many crawled rapidly, snakelike; others resembled animated
pancakes, undulating flatly and nimbly about upon a dozen or so short,
tentacular legs; only a few, vaguely manlike, walked upright.
A glass cage, some eight feet square and seven high, stood under the
towering bulge of the great ship's side; and as his shell of force
engulfed it and its door swung invitingly open, Siblin knew that he was
expected to enter it.
Indeed, he had no choice--the fabric of cold flame that had been
his conveyance and protection vanished, and he had scarcely time to
leap inside the cage and slam the door before the noxious vapors of
the atmosphere invaded the space from which the shell's impermeable
wall had barred it. To die more slowly, but just as surely, from
suffocation? No, the cage was equipped with a thoroughly efficient
oxygen generator and air purifier; there were stores of Valeronian food
and water; there were a chair, a table, and a narrow bunk; and, wonder
of wonders, there were even kits of toilet articles and of changes of
clothing.
Far above a great door opened. The cage was lifted and, without any
apparent means either of support or of propulsion, it moved through the
doorways and along various corridors and halls, coming finally to rest
upon the floor in one of the innermost compartments of the sky rover.
Siblin saw masses of machinery, panels of controlling instruments, and
weirdly multiform creatures at station; but he had scant time even to
glance at them, his attention being attracted instantly to the middle
of the room where, lying in a heavily reënforced shallow cup of metal
upon an immensely strong, low table, he saw a--a _something_; and for
the first time an inhabitant of Valeron saw at close range one of the
invaders.
It was in no sense a solid, nor a liquid, nor yet a jelly; although it
seemed to partake of certain properties of all three. In part it was
murkily transparent, in part greenishly translucent, in part turbidly
opaque; but in all it was intrinsically horrible.
But that it was sentient and intelligent there could be no doubt. Not
only could its malign mental radiations be felt, but its brain could
be plainly seen; a huge, intricately convolute organ suspended in an
unyielding but plastic medium of solid jelly. Its skin seemed thin and
frail, but Siblin was later to learn that that tegument was not only
stronger than rawhide, but was more pliable, more elastic, and more
extensible than the finest rubber.
* * * * *
As the Valeronian stared in helpless horror that peculiar skin
stretched locally almost to vanishing thinness and an enormous,
Cyclopean eye developed. More than an eye, it was a special organ
for a special sense which humanity has never possessed, a sense
combining ordinary vision with something infinitely deeper,
more penetrant and more powerful. Vision, hypnotism, telepathy,
thought-transference--something of all three, yet in essence a thing
beyond any sense or faculty known to us or describable in language
had its being in the almost-visible, almost-tangible beam of force
which emanated from the single, temporary "eye" of the Thing and bored
through the eyes and deep into the brain of the Valeronian. Siblin's
very senses reeled under the impact of that wave of mental power, but
he did not quite lose consciousness.
"So _you_ are one of the ruling intelligences of this planet--one of
its most advanced scientists?" The scornful thought formed itself,
coldly clear, in his mind. "We have always known, of course, that we
are the highest form of life in the universe, and the fact that you
are so low in the scale of mentality only confirms that knowledge. It
would be surprising indeed if such a noxious atmosphere as yours could
nurture any real intelligence. It will be highly gratifying to report
to the Council of Great Ones that not only is this planet rich in the
materials we seek, but that its inhabitants, while intelligent enough
to do our bidding in securing those materials, are not sufficiently
advanced to cause us any trouble."
"Why did you not come in peace?" Siblin thought back. Neither cowed nor
shaken, he was merely amazed at the truculently overbearing mien of the
strange entity.
"Bah!" snapped the amœbus savagely. "That is the talk of a
weakling--the whining, begging reasoning of a race of low intelligence,
one which knows and acknowledges itself inferior. Know you, feeble
brain, that we of Chlora"--to substitute an intelligible word for
the unpronounceable and untranslatable thought-image of his native
world--"neither require nor desire cooperation. We are in no need
either of assistance or of instruction from any lesser and lower form
of life. We instruct. Other races, such as yours, either obey or are
obliterated. I brought you aboard this vessel because I am about to
return to my own planet, and had decided to take one of you with me, so
that the other Great Ones of the Council may see for themselves what
form of life this Valeron boasts.
"If your race obeys our commands implicitly and does not attempt to
interfere with us in any way, we shall probably permit most of you to
continue your futile lives in our service; such as in mining for us
certain ores which, relatively abundant upon your planet, are very
scarce upon ours.
"As for you personally, perhaps we shall destroy you after the other
Great Ones have examined you, perhaps we shall decide to use you as
a messenger to transmit our orders to your fellow creatures. Before
we depart, however, I shall make a demonstration which should impress
upon even such feeble minds as those of your race the futility of any
thought of opposition to us. Watch carefully--everything that goes on
outside is shown in the view box."
Although Siblin had neither heard, felt, nor seen the captain issue any
orders, all was in readiness for the take-off. The mining engineers
were all on board, the vessel was sealed for flight, and the navigators
and control officers were at their panels. Siblin stared intently
into the "view box," the three-dimensional visiplate that mirrored
faithfully every occurrence in the neighborhood of the Chloran vessel.
The lower edge of the hemisphere of force began to contract, passing
smoothly through or around--the spectator could not decide which--the
ruins of Mocelyn, hugging or actually penetrating the ground, allowing
not even a whiff of its precious chlorin content to escape into the
atmosphere of Valeron. The ship then darted into the air and the
shrinking edge became an ever-decreasing circle upon the ground beneath
her. That circle disappeared as the meeting edge fused and the wall of
force, now a hollow sphere, contained within itself the atmosphere of
the invaders.
High over the surface of the planet sped the Chloran raider toward the
nearest Valeronian city, which happened to be only a small village.
Above the unfortunate settlement the callous monstrosity poised its
craft, to drop its dread curtain of strangling, choking death.
Down the screen dropped, rolling out to become again a hemispherical
wall, sweeping before it every milliliter of the life-giving air of
Valeron and drawing behind it the noxious atmosphere of Chlora. For
those who have ever inhaled even a small quantity of chlorin it is
unnecessary to describe in detail the manner in which those villagers
of Valeron died; for those who have not, no possible description could
be adequate. Suffice it to say, therefore, that they died--horribly.
* * * * *
Again the wall of force rolled up, coming clear up to the outer skin
of the cruiser this time, in its approach liquefying the chlorin and
forcing it into storage chambers. The wall then disappeared entirely,
leaving the marauding vessel starkly outlined against the sky. Then,
further and even more strongly to impress the raging but impotent
Klynor Siblin:
"Beam it down!" the amœbus captain commanded, and various officers sent
out thin, whiplike tentacles toward their controls.
Projectors swung downward and dense green pillars of flaming energy
erupted from the white-hot refractories of their throats. And what
those green pillars struck subsided instantly into a pool of hissing,
molten glass. Methodically they swept the entire area of the village.
"You monster!" shrieked Siblin, white, shaken, almost beside himself.
"You vile, unspeakable monster! Of what use is such a slaughter of
innocent men? They have not harmed you--"
"Indeed they have not, nor could they," the amœbus interrupted
callously. "They mean nothing whatever to me, in any way. I have gone
to the trouble of wiping out this city to give you and the rest
of your race an object lesson; to impress upon you how thoroughly
unimportant you are to us and to bring home to you your abject
helplessness. Your whole race is, as you have just shown yourself to
be, childish, soft, and sentimental, and therefore incapable of real
advancement. On the contrary we, the masters of the universe, do not
suffer from silly inhibitions or from foolish weaknesses."
The eye faded out, its sharp outlines blurring gradually as its highly
specialized parts became transformed into or were replaced by the
formless gel composing the body of the creature. The amœbus then poured
himself out of the cup, assumed the shape of a doughnut, and rolled
rapidly out of the room.
When the Chloran captain had gone, Siblin threw himself upon his
narrow bunk, fighting savagely to retain his self-control. He _must_
escape--he _must_ escape--the thought repeated itself endlessly in his
mind--but how? The glass walls of his prison were his only defense
against hideous death. Nowhere in any Chloran thing, nowhere in any
nook or cranny of the noisome planet toward which he was speeding,
could he exist for a minute except inside the cell which his captors
were keeping supplied with oxygen. No tools--nothing from which to make
a protective covering--no way of carrying air--nowhere to go--helpless,
helpless--even to break that glass meant death--
* * * * *
At last he slept, fitfully, and when he awoke the vessel was deep in
interplanetary space. His captors paid no further attention to him--he
had air, food, and water, and if he chose to kill himself that was of
no concern to them--and Siblin, able to think more calmly now, studied
every phase of his predicament.
There was absolutely no possibility of escape. Rescue was out of
the question. He could, however, communicate with Valeron, since in
his belt were tiny sender and receiver, attached by tight beams to
instruments in the laboratory of the Quedrins. Detection of that pencil
beam might well mean instant death, but that was a risk which, for the
good of humanity, must be run. Lying upon his side, he concealed one
ear plug under his head and manipulated the tiny sender in his belt.
"Quedrin Radnor--Quedrin Vornel--" he called for minutes, with no
response. Truly, something of grave import must have happened to
cause complete desertion of _that_ laboratory. However, it mattered
little; his messages would be recorded. He went on to describe in
detail, tersely, accurately, and scientifically, everything that he had
observed and deduced concerning the Chlorans, their forces, and their
mechanisms.
"We are now approaching the planet," he continued, now an observer
reporting what he saw in the view box. "It is apparently largely land.
It has north and south polar ice caps. A dark area, which I take to be
an ocean, is the most prominent feature visible at this time. It is
diamond-shaped and its longer axis, lying north and south, is about one
quarter of a circumference in length. Its shorter axis, about half that
length, lies almost upon the equator. We are passing high above this
ocean, going east.
"East of the ocean and distant from it about one fifth of a
circumference lies quite a large lake, roughly elliptical in shape,
whose major axis lies approximately northeast and southwest. We are
dropping toward a large city upon the southeast shore of this lake,
almost equally distant from its two ends. Since I am to be examined by
a so-called 'Council of Great Ones,' it may be that this city is their
capital.
"No matter what happens, do not attempt to rescue me, as it is
entirely hopeless. Escape is likewise impossible, because of the lethal
atmosphere. There is a strong possibility, furthermore, that I may be
returned to Valeron as a messenger to our race. This possibility is
my only hope of returning. I am sending this data and will continue
to send it as long as is possible, simply to aid you in deciding what
shall be done to defend our civilization against these monsters.
"We are now docking, near a large, hemispherical dome of force--My
cell is being transported through the atmosphere toward that dome--It
is opening. I do not know whether my beam can pass out through it, but
I shall keep on sending--Inside the dome there is a great building,
toward which I am floating--I am inside the building, inside a glass
compartment which seems to be filled with air--Yes, it _is_ air, for
the creatures who are entering it are wearing protective suits of some
transparent substance. Their bodies are now globular and they are
walking, each upon three short legs. One of them is developing an eye,
similar to the one I descr--"
[Illustration: _Their bodies were globular, and each one walked upon
three short legs._]
Siblin's message stopped in the middle of a word. The eye had developed
and in its weirdly hypnotic grip the Valeronian was helpless to do
anything of his own volition. Obeying the telepathic command of the
Great One, he stepped out into the larger room and divested himself of
his scanty clothing. One of the monstrosities studied his belt briefly,
recognized his communicator instruments for what they were, and kicked
them scornfully into a corner--thus rendering it impossible for either
captive or captors to know it when that small receiver throbbed out its
urgent message from Quedrin Radnor.
The inspection and examination finished, it did not take long for the
monstrosities to decide upon a course of action.
"Take this scum back to its own planet as soon as your cargo is
unloaded," the chief Great One directed. "You must pass near that
planet on your way to explore the next one, and it will save time and
inconvenience to let it carry our message to its fellows."
Out in space, speeding toward distant Valeron, the captain again
communicated with Siblin:
"I shall land you close to one of your inhabited cities and you will at
once get in touch with your Bardyle. You already know what your race is
to do, and you have in your cage a sample of the ore with which you are
to supply us. You shall be given twenty of your days in which to take
from the mine already established by us enough of that ore to load this
ship--ten thousand tons. The full amount--and pure mineral, mind you,
no base rock--must be in the loading hoppers at the appointed time or I
shall proceed to destroy every populated city, village, and hamlet upon
the face of your globe."
"But that particular ore is rare!" protested Siblin. "I do not believe
that it will prove physically possible to recover such a vast amount of
it in the short time you are allowing us."
"You understand the orders--obey them or die!"