Again, as oft before during these past weeks, the assembled brothers
of the Group sensed the passage of a tingling vibrancy, and knew their
leader had gone back to that strange, mysterious other universe which
was now his home. Neil issued orders. The Group disbanded.
* * * * *
Back on Nadron, Dirk Morris sighed and unlimbered himself of the
heavy harness which necessity forced his wearing when he made his
peregrinations between the two worlds. To the Ptan Slador he said,
"Well ... that's all I can do now. I shall try to rest until the hour
comes."
"And then?" asked Slador.
"And then," repeated Dirk slowly, "success ... at last. If everything
goes well, tonight will mark the beginning of the end. Earth's greatest
citadel will fall, carrying with it into destruction not only the
Emperor, but all those upon whom the burden of his military power rests.
"With the fall of Earth, half the battle is won. No other planet is so
tightly under Garroway's control as ours. With the Overlord imprisoned,
the other worlds will burst free of their bondage ... the System will
know again the joys of liberty."
Rima said, "Dirk ... you have laid careful plans for tonight? You have
plotted every move you will make?"
"Under the circumstances, that is well-nigh impossible. I know only
that the Emperor gathers with his staff. I shall have to make my
entrance, then decide on the spur of the moment how best to accomplish
my aims."
"You are sure--" hesitated the girl--"this is not a trap of some sort?"
"Trap?" Dirk laughed lightly. "How could it be?"
"I don't know. But the Overlord is no fool. He is a ruthless man ...
but he is no fool."
"He also," reminded Dirk, "thinks I am dead. The identity of the
Galactic Ghost is, to him, a complete mystery. Were he to discover my
identity, then perhaps I might have occasion to fear a trap of some
sort, for ... as you say ... Garroway is no fool. He would realize,
then, that the teleport brought about not death, but some sort of
sinister change. But I am sure there is no danger. Ptan Slador ... let
us drink to success, and to the final reunion of our freed worlds!"
So they toasted a new life opening to all mankind. And the maiden,
Rima, drank the toast with them. But even as she drank, her eyes were
grave and thoughtful....
* * * * *
Nevertheless, despite his claims of confidence, it was with some slight
degree of trepidation that Dirk Morris prepared for his ultimate
exploit later that night. This was, he knew, his boldest stroke to
date. He had hurled his forces elsewhere with supreme confidence. But
always he had avoided too-close contact with Graed Garroway. For in
his heart of hearts he agreed with Rima. He knew the Emperor to be,
in truth, no fool ... but a cunning adversary of infinite daring and
resource.
Still, the die was cast now. The Group's preparations were made; he
could not let them down. He must pave the way for the general uprising
which would sweep Garroway from power ... or his own scheming into
disaster.
Slador and Rima accompanied him to the spot on Nadron where his
translation was to take place. It was a tiny wooded glade, bathed
in the cool moonlight of the alien planet. In the thickets small
night-things chirruped, and from somewhere a sleepy bird sang a
listless lullaby. Dirk, standing there breathing the sweet, fresh
air of Nadron found it hard to believe that the mere pressure of a
switch on his belt would place him on the musty, lower levels of that
architectural monstrosity which was the Palace Royal ... a towering
structure of numberless stories ... at the very topmost of which would
be held the conference he pledged himself to end.
He held out a hand; first Slador, then Rima, gripped it warmly.
"Good luck!" said the Ptan. And Rima added, "We'll be waiting ... and
watching!"
Dirk nodded, not daring to trust his thoughts to words, and depressed
the switch. As oft before he felt a churning moment of vertigo ... then
he stood in a lower corridor of the Palace Royal. Not ten feet distant
stood an armed guard. This man stirred restlessly, his head turning as
if he felt the electric disturbance of Dirk's entrance. But when his
searching eyes found nothing, he returned to the pacing of his post.
Dirk slipped past him swiftly, noiselessly, and to the first of the
long series of staircases he must negotiate.
The Palace Royal was equipped with elevators, but these he dared not
use. The movement of an "empty" elevator would be token enough to the
wit-sharpened Palace guards that the dreaded Galactic Ghost was in
their midst. So he pressed forward and upward to the heights of the
tower.
It was a long climb and a brutal one. The Emperor's palace dwarfed to
shame the puny "skyscraper" attempts of ancestors a thousand years
removed. Thus it was a weary Dirk Morris who finally attained the
topmost flight, and there rested himself briefly before entering the
suite which comprised the Overlord's council chamber.
The vagrant thought struck him that the Palace was poorly guarded,
considering the chaos into which the Ghost's activities should have
thrown the Emperor. But this, he reasoned, might be but another proof
of the weakening of Graed Garroway's grip; so undermined was the
structure of his empire now that not even in his own bailiwick could
he command the meticulous discipline he had heretofore exacted of his
hirelings.
Rested at last, he moved toward the massive portal of the council hall.
It hung slightly ajar; with no effort he inched it open and eased his
still-invisible, but now substantial body through.
His entrance found the Overlord addressing a group seated in a
semi-circle about the dais from which Garroway spoke. All backs save
that of the Emperor himself were turned to Dirk. He moved forward
silently, cautiously.
"--therefore, my lords and generals," the Overlord was saying, "it is
vitally necessary that we apprehend this dastard, this criminal, who
has so dared attack our government. Never until the so-called Galactic
Ghost is captured and put to death will we be free to--"
"--to continue," said Dirk loudly, boldly, "your murderous onslaught
against the rights and liberties of freedom loving people! Is that your
meaning, Graed Garroway? Then abandon the thought. For truly, tonight
your empire crumbles beneath you!"
"_The Ghost!_"
* * * * *
The cry lifted in the hall; all heads whirled as one. Eyes opened
wide in futile scanning, and jaws fell agape. And of all that vast,
terrified assemblage, there was only one who did not freeze with sudden
fear. That one was Garroway. Strangely, a smile seized his lips as he
cried:
"Yes, the Ghost ... as I had hoped! Guards ... _lights!_"
Instantly the room, which had been cloaked in semi-darkness, blazed
with the fury of a thousand beaming flares. And to his horror, Dirk
Morris saw....
... not only those who had spun to face him, tight faces wreathed in
scowls, hands gripping lethal weapons ... but his own image, reflected
a hundred times from every nook and corner of the vast hall! From
a hundred mirrors placed to reflect in their revealing rock-quartz
surfaces every move he made!
Too late, comprehension dawned upon him! Rima had guessed aright ...
this was a trap, ingeniously set for him by the Overlord, and now
sprung at the proper moment. The Princess had revealed that which she
had seen; the Overlord was clever enough to take advantage of it.
There was but one thing to do, and that quickly! In a trice, Dirk's
hand leaped to the control stud on his belt, seeking to depress the
switch that would return him to Nadron. But here, too, the Emperor
had anticipated his move. His voice again cleft the stark, foreboding
silence.
"_Field!_"
And instantly there hummed through the room a shrill, whining current.
It took but the split of a second for Dirk Morris to discern its
purpose. For when his own hand tightened on the switch ... nothing
happened! He did not find himself hurling the vibration-span to the
safety of Nadron. He remained where he was, writhing in the coils of an
electric agony that coursed through his veins like liquid fire.
It was then the Overlord laughed, his voice a grating triumph.
"You see, Dirk Morris, it is useless! My scientists have probed the
secret of your ghostly state ... and you are snared in a net of their
devising! Toss down your weapons!"
The grim purpose in his voice left Dirk no choice. Reluctantly he
dropped to the floor the weapon with which he had hoped to capture
Graed Garroway, stood still as grim-faced guards moved forward to grip
him, bundle him to the dais wherefrom watched the smirking Overlord.
The tide was terribly turned. The biter was bitten!