He felt the craft dart suddenly upward a short time thereafter, and was thankful for the coiled springs which surrounded his chair. Had they not been there to absorb the shock, he would have been badly injured if not killed outright by so sudden a movement of the globe.
For some time he could sense the quick movements of the craft hither and thither, while projectiles rattled intermittently against its armor. Then it settled down to a swift sustained flight and the bombardment ceased.
The even flight was maintained for several hours. Then projectiles rattled once more against the shell of the craft. This second bombardment lasted for perhaps five minutes. Then the globe shot suddenly upward with such terrific speed that, protected though he was by the coiled springs, the professor lost consciousness.
When he regained his senses once more, the savant was being unstrapped from his chair by Lin Ching. Another Lunite was holding a bottle of some pungent smelling liquid beneath his nostrils. The sharp fumes smarted them, and he jerked his head back to escape the pain, whereupon Lin Ching smiled.
“So you flinch at the smell of sarvadine, ah, Am-Er-I-Khan? It will be a pleasure to watch you when the real torture begins.”
“Where are we?” asked the professor, noticing that the motion of the globe had ceased.
“In Peilong, the capitol city of His Imperial Majesty, P’an-ku,” replied Lin Ching.
“Excellent!” exclaimed the professor, whereupon Lin Ching, dumfounded, prodded him with his sword and ordered him to get out into the passageway and keep moving.
At his first step he bumped his head on the ceiling, then fell to the floor in a heap. Convinced that he was indeed on the moon, by this demonstration of the lessened gravity pull, he carefully got up, and made his way forward with a peculiar, toddling gait that seemed to amuse his captors.
As he emerged from the diamond-shaped doorway in the shell of the craft, he saw that the great globe had settled into a circular depression in the level floor of a great dock made to contain its lower half. All around him similar depressions were occupied by craft of exactly the same size and type. It seemed that P’an-ku had a quite formidable armada.
Standing on the dock with several other round-bodied Lunites was Kwan Tsu Khan, his face bandaged and one arm in a sling. With him there also stood another, slender of figure, whom the professor instantly recognized.
“Dr. Wu!” he exclaimed in surprise. “How did you get here?”
“I had the honor of being your fellow passenger, professor,” replied the Chinaman, bowing slightly.
“Come! Over the railing, worm!” grated Lin Ching, with another prod of his sword.
The professor quickly vaulted the railing, alighting on the dock.
“You will feed the Am-Er-I-Khan, Lin Ching,” commanded Kwan Tsu Khan, after the latter had followed his prisoner over the railing. “I will send for him later.” Then he turned and walked away, chatting amiably with Dr. Wu, while the other Lunites followed at a respectful distance behind.
The savant was conducted off the docks, which were lighted by globes suspended from the arched ends of gracefully constructed lamp posts. He could not determine the nature of the light, which was yellow in color, and seemed to come from a liquid with which the globes were filled. Far above him, he caught glimpses of the rugged top of the great arched cavern in which the lunar city was situated, particularly at points where white stalactites reflected the light from the globes below.
After leaving the docks, he threaded many narrow and crooked streets. The houses, which were set closely together, were mostly octagonal or cylindrical in shape, and the popular fashion in doors and windows seemed to be the diamond shape—one hinge only at the left corner of the diamond, and one catch at the right. The roofs were sharply pointed, and were either of yellow metal or heavy stone. He wondered why roofs should be needed at all in an underground city, and especially roofs of such heavy construction, until he saw a fragment of a stalactite fall on one of the metal roofs and glance off, alighting in the street not far from a group of round-bodied Lunites.
The lighting system in the city was the same as at the docks—endless rows of suspended globes containing a substance which radiated yellow light.
Presently the professor and his captor emerged from the narrow streets and entered a broad open park, or plaza, planted with luminous trees and shrubs of variegated forms and hues. Standing in the center of this park was a huge building, octagonal in shape, and crowned with a narrower, pagoda-like structure, the point of which reached nearly to the pendant stalactites on the arched vault above. The lower part of the building was of red stone, but the upper part was of burnished yellow metal surrounded by rings of yellow globes and reflecting their light with such brilliance as to light up a considerable portion of the city as well as the upper reaches of the cavern.
The professor was hustled into a door at the ground level of this building, and down a spiral ramp into a dimly lighted room where a number of men, some of the round-bodied yellow race, and others of the white lunar race, were chained by collars around their necks to rings in the wall. He was promptly clapped into a vacant place, and a burly jailer whose touch was far from gentle, snapped and locked a metal collar around his neck.
“You will feed this contemptible maggot,” said Lin Ching to the jailer. “Then report to me.”
The burly fellow saluted, and Lin Ching withdrew. Presently the jailer went out and returned with a bowl and a cup which he set before the professor. The bowl contained some chunks of stewed fungus of a leathery texture though not unpleasant flavor, and the cup, water with a slightly alkaline taste.
The savant was both hungry and thirsty, and disposed of his meagre rations with gusto before Lin Ching came to him.
“Now, O pestilent spawn of a grub,” said Lin Ching, seizing the professor’s neck chain which the jailer had unfastened from the wall, and giving it a vicious jerk, “we will learn the fate of one who defies the servants of the mighty P’an-ku.”
After being dragged up the spiral ramp and half choked from the pressure of his metal collar, Professor Ederson was hustled through a maze of hallways and passageways to a place where Kwan Tsu Khan stood before a great, diamond-shaped doorway, guarded by two armored warriors who carried spears with heads like long-toothed buzz saws, while from the belt of each there depended a sword on the left and a ray-projector on the right.
The Khan waited until a brilliantly robed major domo bade him enter—then took the prisoner’s chain from the hands of Lin Ching and led him into a large, brilliantly lighted audience chamber, the walls of which were magnificently decorated with gaudily colored bas-reliefs of hunting and battle scenes in which the round-bodied moon men and strange animals and dragons figured conspicuously.
Seated on a massive cushioned throne, placed on a raised platform at the far end of the room, his great round belly cradled between his spindly knees, was P’an-ku, ruler of the yellow skinned moon men. Standing to the right and left of the dais were guards, richly clad courtiers, and liveried attendants.
The Khan slowly led his prisoner to a place before the throne. Then, dropping to his knees, he pressed his forehead and the palms of his hands to the floor.
“Rise, Kwan Tsu Khan,” said P’an-ku. “What have you here?”
“I have brought you the first captive of war from Du Gong, O Lord of the Universe,” replied Kwan Tsu Khan.
“You are slightly in error, Kwan Tsu Khan,” replied P’an-ku, twisting one end of his drooping moustache, and leering. “You have brought the second prisoner of war from Du Gong. The first is already chained in our deepest dungeon for such time as we care to keep him there, while devising a lingering death suitable to his case.”
“A prisoner from Du Gong? Your humble servant craves indulgence, for he fails to understand, O King of the Age.”
“It does not matter,” replied P’an-ku. “We will attend to the prisoner before us. Your report can wait, although I observe that you have been wounded, and that two of the other observer globes have not returned. Let us dispose of this prisoner, first. Who is he?”
“The miserable microbe, who calls himself Am-Er-I-Khan, fell on the bridge of our globe from a ship of Du Gong which we destroyed, and was taken captive by one of my men. When we had reached the capital of the land of the descendants of your illustrious ancestor, he dropped a message to someone in the crowd below the craft. Shortly thereafter, when we were in conference with the powers of that land, a revolt broke out in which eleven of our men were slain. Your humble slave barely escaped with his life, having been left for dead.
“A man of that land who remains loyal to Your Majesty, and who calls himself ‘Dr. Wu,’ was also left for dead, but being less badly wounded than your servant, assisted him in getting back to the craft. After taking vengeance on the revolting city, we departed for the other side of Du Gong, where—”
“That part of your story can wait, Kwan Tsu Khan,” interrupted P’an-ku. “I take it that you suspect this Am-Er-I-Khan of having fomented the revolution in the land of our former allies.”
“Your wisdom, O Sole Vicar of the Great Lord Sun, is as brilliant and as penetrating as His rays.”
P’an-ku glared down at the professor.
“What have you to say for yourself, Am-Er-I-Khan?” he asked.
“Nothing,” replied the professor.
“You see, O Light of Knowledge, this vile father of many crawling maggots admits his guilt.”
“I see,” replied P’an-ku. “Ho, Tzien Khan. Take the prisoner to the torture rooms and give him the death of the many water drops.”
The Lunite designated as Tzien Khan stepped forth and took the professor’s chain from the hand of Kwan Tsu Khan. Although the grizzled hairs of his long, stringy moustache and the many wrinkles of his parchment like countenance betokened great age, he seemed sprightly and quite muscular. His sadistic grin, as he jerked the prisoner away to execute the order of the monarch, revealed a single, fang-like tooth in the upper jaw, and but two below.
Upon hearing his sentence, Professor Ederson had expected the slow, torturing death of having water dripped on his forehead. He was surprised, therefore, when he learned the true nature of the Lunite death of the many water drops.
After being led through a large room filled with many instruments of torture, and resonant with the shrieks of the victims of the wrath of P’an-ku, he was conducted to a small anteroom where two men, under the direction of Tzien Khan, removed his metal collar and seated him in a heavy metal chair which was bolted to the floor. These two men, as well as the others whose work it was to torture the prisoners, had their faces hideously painted with rings and lines of red and blue pigment.
When they had the professor strapped securely in the chair, they measured his head. Then they went out, and presently returned with a metal helmet with a ring in the top. The helmet fitted his skull almost as tightly as if it had been made to order for him, and a metal chin piece which was fastened beneath the ears on either side was fitted in place and secured. A metal cable with hooks on each end was next passed through two stout pulleys suspended from the ceiling, one of which was directly above his head and the other about three feet in front of it.
One end of the cable was hooked through the ring in his helmet. Then one of the men lifted a large, cylindrical vessel with a funnel-like opening and basket-like handle at the top, and hooked it on the other end.
This done, Tzien Khan turned a valve, and a drop of water fell into the vessel. Noting its fall he watched a small instrument, evidently a chronometer, which he took from his belt pouch, until a second had fallen. For some time he continued to adjust the valve, until the falling drops seemed timed to his liking. Then he dismissed his two attendants and turned to the professor with his cruel, toothless grin.
“Farewell, O spawn of a slimy worm,” he said. “In your slow and painful passing, meditate on the folly of opposing your puny will to that of the Lord of the Universe.”
The professor was unable to make a reply, even had he desired to do so, for the weight of the vessel had pulled the helmet and chin piece so high that speech was impossible. The cords of his neck began to pain him sharply, and he tried to think of something which would take his mind off the pain.
With the aid of his wrist watch, he calculated that the water was dripping into the container at the rate of a drop every minute. A dram an hour. Three ounces in a day. How much weight could the cords and muscles withstand? How long had he to live?
Ted Dustin’s first glimmer of returning consciousness after his space flier had crashed with him in the crater of Copernicus, was a queer, swinging sensation.
He opened his eyes and saw the broad shoulders of an armored warrior, on one of which rested a pole. The other end of the pole was carried by another warrior behind, and he was swinging in a net, each end of which was fastened to the pole. Two more warriors armed with long spears with heads that resembled long-toothed buzz saws, and with swords and ray projectors belted about their waists, walked on either side. He could hear the clanking armor of many more behind. An officer, in gaudy armor, walked ahead.
The young scientist saw that he was being carried through a beautiful garden of luminous trees, shrubs and plants, toward a tall, hexagonal building crowned with a pagoda-like structure of yellow metal, brilliantly lighted.
Presently the column came to a halt before a broad flight of steps leading up to a great diamond-shaped door. Standing on the lower step, surrounded by his courtiers, slaves and attendants, he recognized the huge rotund figure of P’an-ku.
At a command from the leader he was lowered to the ground. Then the two men who had been carrying him seized him on each side, and jerking him erect, dragged him before the monarch.
“O, Vicar of the Great Lord Sun,” intoned the officer. “I bring you alive, the presuming parasite from Du Gong who destroyed the experimental ray projector.”
“By the sacred bones of my worshipful ancestors!” exclaimed P’an-ku, peering down at the prisoner over his puffy cheeks, and twisting his long, stringy moustache. “If Dr. Wu sent us the correct description, it is none other than the upstart who calls himself a scientist, Ted Dustin.”
“And if I mistake not,” replied Ted, smiling, “you are P’an-ku, the master of bombast who calls himself ‘Lord of the Universe.’”
“O, slimy worm and wriggling maggot of Du Gong,” grated P’an-ku. “Think you that you have performed a great service for your people by destroying my experimental ray projector? Know then, that I am building, and will have completed in less than five of your days, a projector with ten times its power. You could have destroyed it as easily as the other, but you have merely saved me the effort of dismantling the smaller projector.”
“Everything in its turn,” replied Ted, feigning a complacency he did not feel.
“As to your death,” continued P’an-ku, closely watching his prisoner for signs of fear, “I will ponder over it. It was you who destroyed Ur—you who defied me—you who thought to break my power by destroying a small experimental projector. I must have leisure to devise a punishment befitting your crimes.”
He turned to the officer who had brought up the prisoner, saying:
“Away with him, to the dungeons of eternal darkness.”
Ted was hustled away to a small side entrance on the ground level of the palace, along a hallway, through a torture chamber where victims shrieked their anguish and hideously painted torturers laughed at their agonies, then down a spiral ramp dimly lighted by small globes of luminous yellow liquid, which appeared almost endless, so deeply did it penetrate the damp rock.
Presently, when it seemed to the young scientist that he must be at least a mile beneath the palace, the two men who were dragging him halted at a sharp command from the officer who led the way.
The officer then lighted a head lamp on the front of his pagoda-like helmet, and plunged into a dark hole in the wall, followed by the two warriors with their prisoner.
They were in a hand-hewn cavern, roughly circular in form. Cut in the wall at irregular intervals were the openings of passageways which led away from the cavern in all directions. The officer led the way into one of these passageways which was filled with a horrible, sickening stench that became stronger as they advanced.
Presently the passageway widened, and the cause of the foul odors became apparent, as Ted saw, leaning against the back of a niche cut in the wall at the right, a bloated, festering corpse, chained by the neck to a ring in the wall in such a manner that had the person been living he would neither have been able to stand erect nor lie down.
In niches on both sides of the passageway there now came into view more corpses in all stages of decay from cadavers of the freshly dead to mere skeletons. The floors of all the niches were littered with human bones, as was the passageway itself, but the warriors stepped over them or kicked them out of the way without notice.
Suddenly, from the gloom ahead, there came a horrible, blood-curdling shriek, followed by peal after peal of demoniac laughter.
“Aiee-yah! Ha! Ha! Ha! Aiee-yah! Men and light! Light and life! Darkness and death! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“Shen Ho still lives in body,” whispered one of the soldiers to the other, “but his mind is dead.”
“A mighty mind while it lived,” replied the other. “No puny intellect could have given us back the green ray of our ancestors.”
“Yet none but a fool would dare oppose P’an-ku, Lord of the Universe,” countered the first.
“All wise men are fools in some things,” was the reply.
A moment later Ted saw the madman, squatting in his filthy niche and combing his stringy gray beard with bony, clawlike fingers. A few dirty shreds of clothing still clung to his wasted body—clothing which had evidently been made from the richest of materials of the kind worn by great nobles.
“Aiee!” he shrieked. “Another victim of the darkness!”
The officer had stopped, and was peering into the niche opposite that of the madman. A skeleton, on which there hung a few unclean rags that had once been clothing, half leaned against the wall, the white skull nesting in the metal collar which hung at the end of the short, stout chain fastened to the wall.
“This one will do,” he said, and entering, kicked the moulding bones into a corner with one foot while he shook the chain to dislodge the skull from the collar.
With a key taken from his belt pouch, the officer unlocked the heavy collar and sprung it open. Then, while the two warriors held the prisoner in position, he snapped it on his neck, locked it, and replaced the key in his belt pouch.
“I leave you in distinguished company, O wise fool of Du Gong,” said the officer. “Dead men who have been doughty warriors and mighty Khans, and a madman who was once the mightiest and wisest of all khans. Farewell.”
Ted, who was now chained so he could neither stand erect nor lie down, squatted on his haunches among the bones of his filthy den, and watched the light from the head lamp of the departing officer grow more dim, until it finally disappeared and he was left in complete blackness.
Then he reached back to open his suit of insulating armor, which fastened in the back with an arrangement somewhat resembling a terrestrial zipper. With this armor off it would be an easy matter for him to get rid of his collar and chain, and he would have a fighting chance for his life, as his two pistol degravitors were underneath the armor and over the court suit he had been wearing when he had suddenly decided to attack the green ray projector in his flier.
To his consternation, however, the fastening would not budge. Like its terrestrial cousin the zipper, it worked beautifully when in good order, but when jammed it proved ten times as stubborn. Evidently it had been bent out of shape when his ship crashed with him in the crater. He worked futilely at it for more than two hours, then gave up the attempt as hopeless.
Presently a new idea occurred to him, and he began picking and pulling at the fuzzy exterior of his armor on his right side. If he could only make a hole big enough to get his hand on the pistol degravitor that pressed against his thigh the rest would be easy. But the armor proved as baffling as its fastenings, for interwoven with its tough fibres were tiny metal wires of extraordinary strength. He was still picking hopelessly at these wires when the madman in the cell across from him, who had been quiet up to this time, spoke.
“Who are you, white man?” he asked.
Surprised at the calm tones of this perfectly sane question, Ted replied:
“Men call me Ted Dustin.”
“A peculiar name,” mused Shen Ho. “From what part of Ma Gong do you come?”
“I am from Du Gong,” replied Ted.
“From Du Gong! Are you mad, or can it be that I am as mad as I have pretended to be? If you are from Du Gong how did you get here?”
“In my space flier,” answered Ted.
“You are a scientist?”
“Yes.”
“I, too, am a scientist. I rediscovered the secret of the green ray of our ancestors, after it had been lost for thousands of years. It was my idea to use the ray for defense, but P’an-ku decided to use it for conquest. I objected. That is why I am here—have been here for more than a year. He would have killed me long ago by torture had it not been that he thought he might want to use my brain for his benefit later. As I have nothing left to live for, I feign madness in the presence of the guards, hoping that my execution will be ordered and I may be released from this horrible existence—this living death. Why has P’an-ku sent you here?”
“I am his prisoner of war,” replied Ted, and recounted all that had happened from the time he had fired his projectile at the moon. It was a relief to have someone to talk to there in the stinking darkness.
“Many strange things can happen in a year,” said Shen Ho, when Ted had finished his story. “And to think, he has used not only my invention, but the inventions of my two younger brothers for a war of conquest. My brother Wen Ho, who is five years younger than I, invented the flying globe. My brother, Fen Ho, who is seven years my junior, was the inventor of the powerful explosive projectiles and firing mechanism. We of the house of Ho spent our lives and our talents on these inventions in order that our people might have adequate defensive weapons and live in peace forever. But P’an-ku thought differently about these things, and his word is law.”
“Did he jail your brothers, also?” asked Ted.
“They were condemned to these dungeons at the same time as I,” replied Shen Ho, “but we were all chained in separate passageways. I know not whether they are living or dead.”
“If you found an opportunity to escape, what would you do?” asked Ted.
“First I would search for my brothers and attempt to rescue them or assure myself that they had perished. This accomplished, I would seek P’an-ku.”
“And then?”
“And then, the Lord Sun willing, P’an-ku should die.”
“I have the means of escape at hand, yet cannot reach them.” said Ted, explaining the nature and position of his two pistol degravitors. “If I could but get my hand on one of these weapons, I could destroy our fetters. Then we could help each other.”
For some time Shen Ho was silent. Then he suddenly exclaimed:
“I have a way!”
“How?”
“By persistent rubbing, human teeth will sever that wire.”
“But I can’t bite my own hip,” replied Ted. “That’s out.”
“There are several skulls in your cell,” said Shen Ho, “and in the jaws are teeth.”
“Right!” exclaimed Ted. “We have a saying on Du Gong that two heads are better than one.”
“And you will find,” replied Shen Ho, “that if the first set of teeth wears out, two or three skulls are better than one. When and if you run out of skulls I have plenty more over here.”
After groping about in the darkness for some time, Ted finally secured a skull, tore the jaw bone loose, and began sawing at the armor over his right hip. It was slow work. The wires were tougher by far than he had thought possible, and as Shen Ho had predicted, the teeth in the jaw bone he used were being ground away. When he had worn them down to the bone after many hours of patient labor, he discarded the lower jaw and went to work with the upper set of teeth. These, also, were nearly worn away with but slight effect on the armor, when a light suddenly appeared far down the passageway.
“It is a slave with our food and drink,” whispered Shen Ho. “Cease your labors until he has gone. I will feign madness, as usual.”
Ted laid the skull on the floor and sat down with his back against the wall, while Shen Ho laughed and shrieked until the whole cavern resounded with his weird cries.
The slave, a yellow, round-bodied Lunite who wore a light strapped to his forehead, a long, loose shirt of some coarse material, and straw sandals, set a bowl of stewed fungus and a large cup of water before each prisoner. Although he was without appetite in his ill-smelling surroundings, Ted choked down the fungus and drank the water, not knowing how soon he might again be offered food and drink.
When the prisoners had finished their frugal meal the slave took the bowls and cups and departed, leaving them in total darkness once more.
Ted picked up a skull, the position of which he had marked while eating his meal, tore off the jaw bone, and resumed work on the armor. When he felt sure the slave was out of earshot, he asked Shen Ho how often food and drink were served.
“The slave comes once in a rotation of your world,” replied Shen Ho. “Our world moves so slowly on its axis that we use the rotation of yours to mark our measurement of time. We have our chronometers, of course, but your world is the great chronometer in the sky by which our own are guided and corrected. I had a small timepiece when I was brought here, but it ceased to function long ago and I gave it to a slave as a bribe for some few morsels of better food than is sent here regularly. A short time thereafter, that slave was chained in the niche you now occupy. He cursed me when he told me he had been caught with my chronometer and forced to confess his defection. Being quite superstitious, he died from terror in a short time, and it was his skeleton that was kicked into the corner by the guard and his skull that was shaken out of the collar to make a place for you.”. . . .
Four times, thereafter, the slave came with food, thus marking the passage of five earth days in all. Ted had used up all the available teeth in his own niche, and was working with the upper set of the last skull which Shen Ho had been able to produce and toss over to him, but although he had cut through many wires in his armor, he was still unable to reach his degravitor.
Suddenly a light, brighter than the headlamp of the slave, appeared at the entrance of the passage way. The clank of arms and the footsteps of mailed warriors resounded through the cavern.
“Where have they hidden this miserable worm from Du Gong?” asked a voice.
“The officer said he was far back in the passageway, excellency,” answered another.
“I know that first voice,” whispered Shen Ho. “It is the cruel Tzien, who is Khan of the Torture Chambers. With him are four of his painted tortures. Work fast, Ted Dustin, or you are doomed.”
Ted scraped frantically at the remaining wires which kept him from reaching his degravitor. Several snapped, and he attempted to insert his hand, but the opening was still too small.
“Hurry!” called Shen Ho. “They are almost here!”
Gripping the skull in both hands, Ted scraped in frenzied haste while the footfalls and clanking armor grew louder. More wires snapped, yet he could not get his hand in the opening.
Before he could move, Tzien Khan, with his cruel features contorted in a grin of sadistic delight, stepped into view followed by four of his brawny, hideously painted torturers. Then Shen Ho howled and laughed, and muttered of light and life, and of darkness and death.
P’an-ku, his hands clasped about his ample equatorial region, leaned back in his luxuriously cushioned throne and listlessly contemplated the humped figure of his major domo who, with palms and forehead pressed to the floor before the dais, awaited permission to speak.
“Now what low person disturbs our meditations?” demanded P’an-ku.
“O, worshipful Lord of the Universe,” replied the major domo, “Kai Lo, Khan of Scouts, begs leave to impart tidings.”
“Admit him,” said P’an-ku. Then he turned to Dr. Wu, who stood at the right of the throne, having advanced himself in the graces of the monarch he regarded almost as a god, and said: “I presume he will tell me that the white Princess is about to storm the city. I knew this five days ago when my spies in Ultu informed me of her pact with the worm of Du Gong who called himself Roger Sanders.”
Kai Lo Khan, a short individual with an oval body and thin, crafty features, entered and prostrated himself before the throne.
“Speak,” commanded P’an-ku.
“O, Paragon of Wisdom and Fountain of All Authority,” said Kai Lo Khan, “the army of the Princess Maza is surrounding the city. With her are a hundred thousand nak-kar cavalry and five hundred thousand foot.”
“Dolt!” thundered P’an-ku. “I knew all this was to be five days ago, and am prepared.”
“But Majesty, that is not all. She has sent a party to the western gate of the city under a banner of truce.”
“Ah! She would parley. Go then to the gate and take her message.”
Again prostrating himself, Kai Lo Khan hastily departed.
Not more than twenty minutes elapsed before he returned and made obeisance.
“I have brought the message of the Princess, O Vicar of the Sun,” said he, producing a scroll.
“Read it,” commanded P’an-ku.
Kai Lo Khan unrolled the scroll, cleared his throat, and read:
Her Imperial Majesty, Maza an Ma Gong
to
His Royal Highness, P’an-ku an PeilongGreeting:
Surrender the person of Ted Dustin, living and unharmed, and Peilong will be spared. Refuse, and my army will destroy it utterly.
Maza an Ma Gong
“Tell her,” thundered P’an-ku, “that Ted Dustin will this day be made to suffer the death of the hot oil. Tell her further, that we are prepared for her attack, and that—”
“Pardon, O just and mighty Dictator of the Universe!” It was Dr. Wu who had interrupted. The courtiers looked at him in amazement, apparently expecting P’an-ku to have him executed for his temerity, but he continued. “May your worthless slave from Du Gong suggest a plan?”
“Speak,” replied P’an-ku.
“Would it please Your Majesty to have the white Princess as a prisoner?”
“Nothing would suit me better,” replied P’an-ku. “Tzien Khan, here, could very quickly persuade her to become my queen, could you not, my Khan of the Torture Chambers?”
“Assuredly, O King of the Age, if she should be so foolish as to need such persuasion,” replied Tzien Khan with a bow.
“After which,” continued P’an-ku, “with her armies and her wealth at my disposal, I could quickly bring both Du Gong and Lu Gong under my undisputed sway. But what is your plan, Dr. Wu?”
“It is apparent from her message,” said the wily doctor, “that the Princess loves this Ted Dustin. If the prisoner, therefore, or someone purporting to be the prisoner, were sent out, she would not overlook an opportunity for speech with him.”
“Very likely,” replied P’an-ku.
“I suggest therefore,” continued the crafty doctor, “that you dress one of your white prisoners who is about the size of Ted Dustin in a suit of insulating armor and glass helmet of the kind worn by the people of Ultu. Send a note to the Princess stating that you will constitute Ted Dustin your messenger for a peace parley at a point half way between the western gate and the front line of her army, stipulating that she be accompanied by not more than ten unmounted men, and that a like number will accompany Ted Dustin.
“Men can be posted at suitable points along the wall with green ray projectors to lay down a barrage at a prearranged signal. This will prevent her from getting back to her army, or prevent the army from reaching her. In the meantime, her guard can easily be destroyed and the Princess taken prisoner.”
“What think you of this plan, Kai Lo Khan?” asked P’an-ku.
“It sounds feasible, O Bright and Shining Cousin of the Sun,” replied the Khan of Scouts, cautiously.
“And you, Tzien Khan?”
“I believe it would work, O Lord of Worlds,” replied the Khan of Torturers.
“We will try it,” decided P’an-ku. “You, Tzien Khan, will take one of the Ultuan prisoners who resembles Ted Dustin in physical proportions and dress him in a suit of the armor we took when we captured a troop of the surface scouts of the white princess.
“You, Kai Lo Khan, will go to Chu Yan, Khan of my army, inform him of our plans, and see that he has men with ray projectors suitably posted on the walls and ten men ready to accompany the prisoner to the meeting place. I will send a messenger with a note to the Princess, at once.
“And, Tzien Khan. When you have prepared a prisoner to represent the young scientist of Du Gong, you may take Ted Dustin from the dungeons of eternal darkness to the torture chambers, and there inflict on him the death of the hot oil. I had thought to delay his death and prolong his torture indefinitely, but with the prospect of the honor of a visit from the fair Princess who foolishly believes she loves him, it will be better to put him permanently out of her reach at once.
“Now go, both of you.” . . . .
Seated on the back of her great, fighting nak-kar in one of the glades of the luminous forest which surrounded the city of Peilong, Maza waited impatiently for P’an-ku reply to her message. She wore a suit and helmet of shining white armor, and a sword and red ray projector depended from the belt which encircled her slender waist. Beside her, similarly armored and mounted, was the aged Vanible Khan.
Ranged before her were line after line of her foot soldiers, and more, steadily coming up from the rear, were being hurried into place by their officers as the army encircled the city. Her nak-kar cavalry had deployed for attack, and the huge supply wagons, drawn by great, lumbering, wingless dragons, were rumbling into position.
“P’an-ku ponders long over his reply, Your Majesty,” said Vanible Khan.
“It may be that he does not intend to make one,” replied Maza. “He seems, however, to have respected my banner of truce.”
“I would not rest too strongly on the belief that Ted Dustin is alive,” said Vanible Khan. “If he escaped the green rays of the defenders when he attacked the great projector it would be amazing, but if P’an-ku were to capture him and spare his life it would indeed be astounding.”
“Nevertheless, I shall go on believing him alive until I have proof to the contrary,” answered Maza. “I seem to feel it, here.” She pressed her hand over her heart.
Sailing gracefully over the treetops, a nak-kar alighted in the glade. Its rider dismounted, rushed to where Maza sat in her saddle, made obeisance, and presented a scroll.
“A message from P’an-ku,” he announced.
The Princess eagerly seized and unrolled the missive, hastily scanning its contents.
“He lives! Ted Dustin lives!”
“And will P’an-ku surrender him without a struggle?” asked Vanible Khan.
“I will read the message,” she replied.
His Imperial Majesty, P’an-ku an Ma Gong tu Du Gong
to
Her Royal Highness, Maza an UltaIf you care to meet him in person, Ted Dustin will tell you the terms I propose. He will advance half way to your front lines, accompanied by ten of my guards, who will slay him at the first sign of treachery. Meet him there, on foot, with ten of your unmounted warriors, and perhaps a satisfactory settlement can be arranged.
P’an-ku an Ma Gong tu Du Gong.
“The ruler of Peilong assumes mighty titles since he has acquired the green ray and the fighting globe,” said Vanible Khan. “Emperor of Ma Gong and Du Gong, indeed! He will soon have the other planets, their satellites, and the Lord Sun under his domination, if words can do the trick. And he insultingly addressed Your Majesty as ‘Ruler of Ulta,’ ignoring your greater title.”
“I will overlook that for the present—to save Ted Dustin,” replied Maza.
“But, Your Majesty,” remonstrated the aged scientist. “Don’t you see that this bloated monster is setting a trap for you—a trap baited with the man you love?”
“Trap or no trap,” said Maza, “I am going.”
“Majesty, I implore you not to go. For the sake of Ulta—for the sake of the millions of subjects who love you—”
“Enough!” she said. “The terms are fair enough—a trap well nigh impossible. I will be accompanied by ten of my warriors, who can, if need be, account for the ten accompanying Ted Dustin. I will be within plain sight and ray-range of the advance guard of my army. They will be instructed to protect me with a ray barrage at the slightest sign of trickery.”
“But, Majesty—”
“Not another word. I leave my army in your care until my return. If I do not come back—if I am killed or captured—attack the city at once, and continue the fight until Peilong is utterly destroyed. Goodbye, my worthy Khan and lifelong friend.”
Grief stricken, Vanible Khan bowed his head in farewell obeisance, while tears trickled down his furrowed cheeks. When he raised his tear-dimmed eyes the nak-kar with his beloved young ruler was disappearing over the treetops.
Alighting just behind the front line of her troops Maza dismounted, tossed her reins to a soldier, and addressed a young officer who ran quickly to her side and made obeisance.
“Pick me ten of your bravest soldiers at once,” she said. “They will go with me for a parley midway between my front line and the city gate. Instruct the men in the front line to be ready to throw a ray barrage around me at the least indication of treachery.”
She watched the gate while the young officer selected the men who were to go with her. One by one they took up a position in a line behind her.
Presently the gate opened, and she saw a man the size and build of Ted Dustin emerge therefrom, followed by ten of P’an-ku’s soldiers. She had last seen Ted attired in one of the insulated suits with glass helmet which her people wore for surface travel, and this man was so attired. Her heart leaped with joy, and as she went out expecting to meet the man she loved, followed by her ten soldiers, there was not the slightest doubt in her mind that this was really Ted Dustin.
As she drew nearer to the man who was coming toward her, Maza felt that there was something about him which was not just as it should be. What is it? Ah, his gait. He did not walk with long, easy strides like those of the earth man, whose muscles, accustomed to a greater gravity pull, involuntarily carried him much further at each step than the stride of the most athletic of moon men. Besides, if he felt as she did, he would hurry to meet her, in which case she knew the mighty bounds through space of which he was capable.
For a moment she paused, doubting. Then came the thought that Ted might be adapting his stride to suit that of his captors—might indeed be compelled to do so. Furthermore, the size, build and attire were correct.
When within fifty feet of the man she strained her eyes to see his face in the glass helmet. The light from the luminous forest was quite dim at this point, and the yellow lights from the city were more of a hindrance than a help as they shone in her eyes from behind him without lighting his face.
A distance of twenty feet was reached, and it seemed that if she could not recognize the man he, with the light in his favor, should be able to recognize her.
Suddenly he called out:
“Retreat Majesty, quickly! It is a trap!”
The voice and face she recognized simultaneously. The man was one of her nak-kar scout officers she had believed slain in a battle with the flying globes.
Instantly a green ray from the projector of one of the warriors behind him cut him down.
Maza whipped out her own red ray projector and the man who had flashed his green ray disappeared in a sudden burst of flame. Not a second elapsed before her men were drawing their ray projectors, but the nine remaining warriors of P’an-ku were already on guard. The battle commenced with fencing, deadly as it was beautiful—green rays against red, red against green.
Simultaneously, a barrage of green leaped out from the city walls and a barrage of red flashed out from the front rank of Maza’s army. Where the rays met they neutralized each other, but enough green rays got through to form a triangle past which Maza and her little party could not retreat, while a similar triangle of red rays made it possible for the warriors of P’an-ku to retreat.