_Ilen-dar_
When Blaine Carson opened his eyes it was to stare at the blue-white
radiance of an illuminated ceiling. He lay on a downy cot and it seemed
he had just recovered from a long illness. Weak and sick, he turned his
head listlessly to gaze at the ornate embossed designs on a wall of
gleaming silvery metal. What place was this? His mind was wool-gathering;
dim memories of unspeakable things struggled for mastery over a hazy
consciousness. Suddenly then he remembered, and he sat up in his
unfamiliar bed, senses acutely alert.
Across the room he saw a figure hunched in a chair; a twisted
man-creature who was oddly like someone he had seen. Antazzo! But this
one had none of the other's ferocity as he returned Blaine's stare.
Rather, there was a look of deep concern in his ugly face. He came
immediately to the bedside and looked at Blaine solicitously.
"I see you have recovered," he said. "It is good."
Blaine stared and stared. This creature had spoken in the language of
the Zara's subjects, yet he understood his every word! It must be a
dream, this impossible thing that had happened. And where was Tom?
Abruptly he found that he was talking rapidly in this tongue of an
alien race.
"Yes, I've recovered," he said, "and I'm amazed at what I find. How
have I acquired this knowledge of your language? Where am I, and where
is my friend? Can you enlighten me in these things?"
The other smiled. "I can, Earth man," he replied. "You have been taught
our language while you slept. A thought transference process we use for
educating the young. You are in the palace of the Zara and your friend
is safe in the next room. I may add that you are in high favor with Her
Majesty."
The wizened creature lowered his voice on the last words, and his
knowing eyes spoke volumes. In favor with that she-devil! Blaine went
cold at the thought.
"I want to see my friend," he said shortly.
"Later. My orders are to bring you to the Zara immediately you are
strong enough. And Pegrani obeys orders."
* * * * *
No use to attempt a break now. Blaine was tempted to drive a fist into
that ugly countenance and fight his way out of the place. But that
would be suicide. He'd wait, get the lay of the land first and then try
to dope something out with Tommy.
"All right, Pegrani," he said, "I'm ready to go before this Zara of
yours."
As he prepared for the audience, alien thoughts crowded one upon the
other in his strangely enlightened mind. With the knowledge of the
language had come knowledge of many things relative to the copper-clad
world. They'd given him a liberal education. Somehow he knew these
stunted creatures like Antazzo and Pegrani were known as Llotta and
that, while ruling the sealed-in planet, their kind had originally come
from Ganymede, the fifth satellite of Jupiter. Centuries had passed
since the inhabitants of Europa and Ganymede had been forced to desert
their aging worlds and had settled on Io. During other centuries the
widely different peoples had co-operated in constructing the great
copper enclosure in order to keep the new world alive and capable of
supporting life. Then had come a century of bitter warfare in which the
Llotta were victorious. Intense hatred existed between the two races,
he knew, and a hazy impression of mechanically imparted knowledge told
him that few of the Europans remained alive.
"We are here, Carson," his guide announced, when they stood before the
square columns of an enormous portal.
The scene in the throne room was vastly different than when he had
first visited it. The Zara sat curled as before, a golden bowl of
incense burning at either side of the throne. The men-at-arms were
absent and, instead, there were dozens of handmaidens, white-skinned
and seductive as their queen, reclining on luxurious cushions that were
arranged in a semicircle before the dais. It was a scene of Oriental
splendor. A stage carefully set.
* * * * *
Pegrani knelt and touched his forehead to the floor but Blaine held
himself stiffly erect, looking straight into the eyes of the Zara. She
smiled and extended her arm in that beckoning gesture.
"You may leave now, Pegrani," she said, without deigning him a glance.
"Remain in the corridor until I send for you."
There was a tense silence as the Zara's gaze, ineffably softened now,
held Blaine's. Unconsciously he was drawn to the steps of the dais.
Unwillingly, yet inexorably, his lagging footsteps brought him to her
side. Cool white fingers touched his arm and he saw that the red flecks
in the black of those wide eyes were golden now. Surely there was no
harm in this woman. But he remembered Antazzo.
"Carson," she purred, "you are more than welcome to Llotta-nar, the
land of my people and the ruling power of Antrid, the body you call Io.
The freedom of the realm is yours for as long a time as you wish to
remain."
This was too good to be true. "You--you mean," he stammered, "that
Antazzo exceeded his authority in his act of piracy--in bringing us
here?"
The golden flecks flashed red and a cold note was manifest in the
throaty voice. "Antazzo," she replied, "was destroyed for his audacious
actions. We needed this k-metal of yours, Carson, and he was sent to
Earth to get a quantity of the material. By magnetic directional waves
was he sent--we have no space-ships--his body disintegrated by my
scientists for transmittal, and the atoms of his beastly form
reassembled in their proper relation when he arrived there. But he
threatened me when he returned successful. The possession of the
k-metal and his knowledge of its powers and uses had gone to his head.
He demanded my hand in return for his work; demanded that he be
permitted to mount the throne of Llotta-nar as my consort. Therefore I
destroyed him." The hard eyes softened anew. "And--and for his
abominable treatment of you I destroyed him," she concluded.
* * * * *
Blaine fought off the spell of those gold-flecked eyes; he looked away
in sudden panic. This creature was not telling the truth. She was
hiding something; a sinister motive lay beneath her smooth speech.
"My friend," he said abruptly: "what of him?"
"For your sake, my Carson," she purred, "he too shall have the freedom
of the realm for as long a time as is desired."
The cool fingers crept along his arm, firm and compelling. "Look at
me," she whispered.
He thought of the pink gas as his eyes were drawn irresistibly to hers.
What he saw in those gold-flecked depths sent a shiver of apprehension
chasing down his spine. Savage, devastating desire mingled with
ill-concealed rage at his coldness. This beautiful animal could turn
like a flash and rend him limb from limb--and would on the slightest
provocation.
A commotion in the corridor caused her to release him and sit bolt
upright. Temporarily relieved, Blaine wheeled to face the portal. Tommy
had broken loose! He heard his strident voice, berating an unseen
antagonist in the tongue of the Llotta.
Then they were in the room, Tommy struggling and arguing vociferously
with one of the green-bronze guards. The handmaidens had deserted their
cushions and were milling about in affrighted confusion. The Zara's
sibilant exclamation startled him into looking at her once more. The
same cold fury that had greeted Antazzo glinted icy-hard in that grimly
beautiful face. It was all over for poor Tommy.
* * * * *
But the Zara reached upward and stroked a transparent rod that dangled
above the throne, something he had not noticed before. A screaming
vibrant note smote the heavy air, a pulsation that beat at the ear
drums with painful intensity. Silence fell as the awesome sound died
away and echoed faintly from the huge columns that supported the arched
ceiling. Tommy cooled off when he saw that Blaine was unharmed.
"Drekan!" The Zara's voice was a whiplash as she addressed the guard.
"You will leave my presence and report to your overman for punishment.
Never again molest the Earth men. Begone!"
Again this amazing woman curled in her cushions and again she purred.
Tommy watched in open mouthed astonishment as she smiled guilelessly on
his friend.
"You may leave me now, my Carson," she cooed. "Farley is free to
accompany you. Pegrani will guide you and inform you regarding our
customs and our people. You will learn much. And then you shall return
to Zara Clyone."
Blaine had fully expected that Tommy would die a horrible death before
his eyes, and in his sudden relief bent low and kissed the cold white
hand of the Zara. A foolish thing to do! She purred and snuggled into
the cushions like the feline she was--a dangerous animal; claws drawn
in now but ready to strike out, razor sharp, on a moment's notice.
* * * * *
Pegrani led them along the corridor to a lift. The car shot upward with
breath-taking speed.
"Say!" Tommy was growling, in English. "What's the big idea? You've got
the old girl ga-ga. Trying to vamp her into letting us off easy?"
"Shut up!" Blaine returned, irritated. "I don't know where we stand any
more than you do. But we're going to sit tight now and see what
happens. No more rough stuff from you, either."
"What! You're going to just stand around and take it--whatever they
hand us?"
"Of course not. But the time isn't ripe yet. We'll have to wait till we
know what it's all about."
They were outside then, on the palace roof, and Pegrani motioned them
to a railed-in runway that circled its edge. High overhead was the
shadowy blackness of the copper shell that enclosed the satellite. Huge
latticed columns, line upon line of them, stretched off into the
distance as far as the eye could follow; enormous white metal supports
that carried the immense weight of the covering which retained the
dense and humid atmosphere. Myriads of tiny blue-white suns there
seemed to be, stretching off between the columns, carried on thick
cables and radiating the artificial daylight of the interior. Hot, damp
odors wafted across the roof, the odors of decayed vegetation.
Most amazing of all, were the dwellings. In orderly rows like the
columns, they were flat topped cylindrical things that reminded Blaine
of nothing so much as the tanks of an oil refinery back home. And the
space between was overgrown with dense tropical vegetation, tangled and
matted and shooting transparent tubular stems up to a height of a
hundred feet or more where they sprouted great spherical growths that
looked like enormous sponges. Of a sickly, pale green hue, these
growths overran everything; climbed the columns and were lost in the
shadows above the multitude of lights. The big sponge-like blossoms
expanded and contracted rhythmically. Breathing, they were, like living
things. Specially cultivated plant life to assist in maintaining the
oxygen supply balance by decomposition of carbon dioxide. A marvelous
artificial world!
* * * * *
"The streets and moving ways are in tunnels beneath the soil," Pegrani
was explaining. "What lies before you is the city of Ilen-dar, capital
city of the empire, and like all other cities of Antrid, it is
self-sustaining. The vegetation is inedible, all of our food is
synthetic and highly concentrated. You were fed by intravenous
injection while under the influence of the language machines. Our heat
and power is obtained from the internal fires of Antrid, and, alas,
these are being exhausted with great rapidity. Our shortage of power is
becoming acute, and again our peoples are facing extinction."
That explained their need for the k-metal. It came to Blaine in a flash
that Antrid was in sore straits and that this expedition to Earth had
more back of it than had been revealed. Even with the supply of k-metal
Antazzo had stolen, they could not carry on forever.
A screaming object went hurtling through the blackness over their
heads. Something, a vehicle of enormous size with rows of lighted ports
on the under side, that roared its way under the roof of copper and was
gone in an instant.
"One of our monorail cars," Pegrani told them: "a complete system
interconnects all cities and divisions. They are capable of circling
the globe in a day of your time."
Their familiarity with conditions on Earth was astonishing. Probably
Antazzo was but one of many spies who had been sent to the inner
planets. Pegrani discussed the speed in their own terms.
* * * * *
Someone had crept up behind them; a slight, olive-skinned youth who
touched Blaine softly on the shoulder. Pegrani did not see. He was
pointing into the distance and expounding on the merits of the monorail
system. The youth touched a finger to his lips to enjoin silence, and
thrust a crumpled ball of metal foil into Blaine's hand before the
pilot realized his intention. A message, undoubtedly!
Some instinct, or some slight sound, warned Pegrani and he turned on
his heel just as the slender lad was slinking away. Black rage
contorted his features and Blaine saw him make a quick motion toward
the inner folds of his jacket.
"Pegrani!" he shouted as he saw a glint of steel. "Don't!"
But it was too late and the Llott paid him no attention, anyway. One of
those wicked ray pistols sent forth its crackling blue flame and the
youth stood there, bathed in the eery blue light; dazzling blasts of
exploding atoms were seen within the flare. Then there was the
nothingness into which Wahoney and Kelly had gone.
Blaine shouted horrified and angry protest and Tommy rushed in to mix
it with their guide. But the glowing ray pistol waved them back. Other
guards--the big green-bronze ones--were running in their direction.
"The message!" Pegrani snapped. "Give it to me."
Quick as a flash Blaine crumpled the foil more tightly. A hard little
pellet now, he tossed it over the rail far into the matted vegetation
below. One might as well hunt for a needle in a haystack as for that
tiny ball. But Pegrani would not forget; he'd report to the Zara. They
were in for it now.