Captain Future 12 - Planets in Peril (Fall 1942) (14 page)

He waited then, floating in the dim obscurity of the gloomy vault. But there came no telepathic answer.

"Shiri! Gerdek!" Again he uttered the telepathic cry. "Surely some of you can hear?"

There was no response. And Curt Newton's horror deepened as he realized that he was completely isolated even from those who had been disembodied like himself.

He could not "see" his fellow Unbodied ones, any more than they could perceive him. For all of them consisted now only of immaterial photons.

Neither could he contact the others telepathically. That, he knew, was because his tenuous new photon-body was unable to project a telepathic electric vibration of sufficient intensity to register upon another mind.

"This is worse than death!" Curt thought. "I'm like a bodiless ghost, that can dimly see but that can't be seen, and that can't speak to or be heard even by its fellow-ghosts."

Most dreadful of all to Captain Future, he would never now return to his own universe. He thought of the familiar Earth that he would never see again. He thought of Joan Randall, waiting for him —

"Simon! Otho!" he uttered in a fierce telepathic cry. "You've
got
to answer me!"

BUT still there was no answer. And that, to Curt Newton, was almost the last straw. He felt madness close to him. And he rallied against it with supreme determination.

"I
won't
give up!" he thought with wild passion. "Somehow, there must be a way out of this. If I could only find help —"

But could he even move? He was a photon-creature floating upon the magnetic currents of this planet. Would it be possible to breast those currents by a concentrated effort of his electric being?

Curt essayed the effort. He found that tho heightened pulsation of his mind's electric web did cause him to drift slowly in one direction.

He continued his experiments. It seemed that by concentrated thought, he could reverse the polarity of his photon-body and cause it to flow with or against the streaming magnetic currents on which he floated.

"If I can get out of here and find somebody —" he thought with a haggard gleam of hope.

He managed to drift toward the door of the shadowy vault. It was shut and locked from the outside. But Captain Future found himself drifting weirdly
through
the massive door.

That startled him, at first. Then he realized that his immaterial photon-being was naturally able to pass through solid matter. More than ever, it made him feel like a wandering ghost.

He drifted up through the stairways of the great Hall of Suns, seeking to reach the Council Hall. He made many movements in wrong directions, for control of this new method of locomotion was still very awkward and uncertain with him. But Curt was learning fast, now.

He reached the upper level of the Hall of Suns. His strange electric perception "saw" everything vaguely and unreally. Yet, when he entered the Council Hall, he could perceive that it was quite deserted.

"Then Vostol has already left on the mission to Thool!" he thought despairingly. "I may have been in this existence for hours."

Hopelessness was crushing even his indomitable resolution. He felt that awful shadow of madness creeping closer upon him.

Curt suddenly realized that a man had entered the Council. Hall. He had slipped in at a side door, in a peculiarly stealthy fashion, and was looking tensely around. With suddenly resurgent hope, Curt recognized him.

"Lacq!" he thought in a wild telepathic cry.

It was in fact the young Tarast, the descendant of Zuur whom they had brought back to Bebemos with them. Curt moved toward him.

"Lacq, listen!" he cried telepathically. "This is Kaffr speaking to you! I need your help!"

Lacq gave no sign whatever of having received the thought-cry, though Curt repeated it over and over again frantically.

Captain Future's sudden new hope swiftly died. He realized that his tenuous, immaterial photon-body could not project a telepath vibration strong enough for Lacq to hear.

LACQ had been startled and dismayed when the Tarast soldiers had arrested Captain Future and his comrades as they entered Bebemos. He had stood stunned until Curt had whispered to him to leave them, and wait until they got in touch with him.

That order, Lacq had dazedly obeyed. He had slipped away from Curt's group and the soldiers had not stopped him, for he was not on their list. In worried wonder, Lacq had watched the prisoners marched away by the guards toward the Hall of Suns.

"They arrested
Kaffr!"
Lacq told himself incredulously. "They must have gone mad."

Lacq had not a doubt in his own mind that Curt was really Kaffr. The young Tarast had been utterly convinced, not only by the red-haired planeteer's appearance but also by his determination and resourcefulness.

As the
Comet
had returned to Bebemos, Lacq had been filled with wild hope for the future. Kaffr's intention of leading an expedition to Thool promised to achieve Lacq's cherished plan — discovery of his ancestor's secret and the vulnerability of the Cold Ones.

Lacq had cherished that plan for years. It was the one great goal of his life. For its success would not only mean the smashing of the Cold One menace. It would mean vindication of his ancestor Zuur, whose memory had been hated by his people for the terror he had unleashed.

Now all these wild new hopes had been suddenly imperiled by the arrest of Kaffr and his comrades. Lacq could not understand. He ventured a question of one of the Tarasts, who stood in troubled silence as the prisoners were marched away.

"Why do they arrest Kaffr?" Lacq asked bewilderedly. "Has the Council gone crazy, to do such a thing to our returned hero?"

The man he addressed answered troubledly.

"It is said that charges have been made that Kaffr is not really Kaffr — that he is an impostor."

"They must be mad indeed to listen to such charges!" Lacq said hotly. "Anyone can see that it is Kaffr!"

"That is my opinion too," said the man. He went on worriedly. "Kaffr's return gave us our first hope for years that we might defeat the Cold Ones. If they should prove now that it is not Kaffr at all, there would be universal despair."

That seemed to Lacq to be the attitude of all the troubled, tense crowds that filled the streets of Bebemos. All seemed to be praying desperately that the hope given them by the return of their great hero might not now be snatched away from them.

Lacq's uneasiness was great as he made his way through the throngs toward the Hall of Suns. And that uneasiness was not only for Kaffr, and for the fate of the expedition to Thool. It was for Shiri as well. Lacq had been strongly attracted by Gerdek's beautiful sister.

He waited with the tense crowds gathered outside the Hall of Suns. For a long time they stood there. Then a low murmur of voices went up as Vostol hurriedly emerged from the building.

"Vostol, has the Council made decision regarding Kaffr?" cried many eager voices.

"Igir will give you news — I cannot," Vostol answered, and hastened away before he could be questioned further.

Lacq was more uneasy than ever. He decided to follow Vostol. But he learned little by doing so.

For Vostol went directly to the spaceport outside the gate of Bebemos. There a star-cruiser had been made ready, and a silver circle had been painted boldly upon each of its sides. Vostol entered this ship and it sped rapidly out into space.

Puzzled and worried, Lacq returned to the Hall of Suns. Soon a cry rose from the crowd as the Council chairman, old Igir, emerged.

IGIR looked haggard as he spoke to the tense throng.

"The charges against Kaffr are still being considered, but no decision has yet been made," he told the people. "Return to your homes, and an announcement will be made to you later."

Unsatisfied and in uneasy silence the Tarast populace slowly dispersed from in front of the Hall of Suns. But Lacq remained.

"Something is very wrong," Lacq told himself with deep anxiety. "They've done something to Kaffr and his friends, but are afraid to announce it just yet to the people."

He continued to wait and watch. He saw the members of the Council of Suns leave the building. But Kaffr and his comrades did not come out. They were still in there somewhere, perhaps imprisoned.

"I've got to find out what's happened!" Lacq decided finally. "If Kaffr needs help —"

He put his decision into instant execution. Without attempt at concealment he hurried up to the entrance of the mammoth building. Tarast soldiers brusquely barred his entrance. But Lacq's fertile mind had already fixed upon an expedient.

"I bring important dispatches from the world Raskol!” he snapped, mentioning another Tarast planet in the star-cluster. "For the Council secretary!"

His assurance of manner and assumed impatience impressed the guards and they stepped back.

"You'll find the secretary in his office."

Lacq breathed more easily as he made his way through the dusky corridors of the great structure. He was past the guards. But now a new difficulty arose. Where in this vast pile would he search for Kaffr?

He decided to investigate the Council Hall first Slipping into it by a side door he found the great amphitheater silent and deserted.

Lacq looked around, vainly seeking some trace of Kaffr's presence. Then his eye was caught by a small, square apparatus that rested upon a table on the great stage.

He approached and examined it wonderingly. Yes, he was right — it was a telep-transmitter such as were used by the Cold Ones for long-distance transmission of telepathic messages. Lacq was familiar with the instruments from his former association with the Cold Ones.

"But what's a telep-transmitter doing here?" he asked himself mystifiedly. "Did they capture this from the Cold Ones?"

He turned the instrument on, with a vague hope that he might catch something on it that would explain the mystery of its presence.

Next moment, Lacq received a staggering shock. From the shining knob of the telep-transmitter a frantic telepathic cry came to his mind.

"Lacq! This is Kaffr speaking to you!” vibrated that wild thought-message. "Can you hear me?"

"Kaffr?" cried Lacq aloud in his amazement. Then he repeated it as a thought directed into the instrument. "Kaffr, where are you?"

The answer added to his stupefaction.

"I am right here beside you, Lacq."

Lacq looked wildly around. There was absolutely nobody in sight in the vast, silent amphitheater.

"You can't see me," Curt Newton's desperate thought reached his mind. "I'm one of the Unbodied now."

LACQ felt a freezing horror.

"Gods, did the Council condemn you and your comrades —"

"Yes, they imprisoned us all among the Unbodied," Curt's thought answered. "I've been nearly crazy. I 'saw' you enter this hall, but couldn't reach you telepathically, because I could not project a strong enough electrical thought-vibration to affect your mind.

"I was hoping that you'd turn on that telep-transmitter," Curt continued. "Grag had described the instruments to me. I knew that since it was an apparatus designed to receive and amplify faint, distant telepathic messages it would amplify my own faint call so you could hear."

"Kaffr, this is ghastly!” Lacq answered wildly. "What shall we do?"

"You
still believe I'm Kaffr?" Curt asked him.

"Of course I do!" Lacq replied with utter faith.

"Then you must help me and my comrades escape from the doom of the Unbodied."

"But how?" Lacq asked bewilderedly. "I know nothing about the way in which men are made Unbodied, or returned to normal."

"I'll try to direct you," came Curt's thought. "Pick up the telep-transmitter, first. You'll have to carry it with you, for only through it can I maintain this mental contact with you."

Lacq shakenly picked up the compact instrument. Curt Newton gave him quick orders.

"You must go down to the vault of the Unbodied, where our bodies and the machine that transformed us are. It is on the lowest under-level."

Like a man moving in an unreal dream, Lacq left the silent Council Hall and went stealthily through the corridors to the stair. Following Curt's continuing directions he went down level after level of the stairs. More than once Curt gave quick mental warning of guards or other persons ahead of him.

Finally, Lacq stood in the gloomy shadows of the lowest level. Facing him was the massive door of the vault of the Unbodied.

"This door is locked, Kaffr," he reported dismayedly. "And I do not know the combination."

"Neither do I, but I think I can find it out," Curt replied. "In this phantom state, I can pass through solid matter. I think I can penetrate the secret of the lock by entering and examining it."

Lacq waited tensely. It seemed nightmarish to think that Kaffr was close beside him, as an invisible, immaterial photon-being who was able to pass into the solid matter of the lock and examine its interior.