Slaves of Mercury by Nathan Schachner
CHAPTER VI
_Mutterings of Revolt_
The next morning, as dawn burst over the mountain tops, he started onhis perilous mission. But no one who knew Hilary Grendon would haverecognized him in the meek, shambling, slightly bent Earth slave whoclimbed the last rung of the rope ladder out of the hidden gorge.
He had changed his clothes for an old, space-worn suit that one of hisformer comrades could never have any further use for. The skilfulapplication of wood ash and powdered charcoal to the hollows aroundthe eyes, the pits beneath the cheekbones, gave him a gaunt, carewornappearance, suitable to an Earthman too brow-beaten to dream ofdefying his overlords.
Wat, who had artistically applied the make-up, viewed his handiworkwith admiration. "You'll do," he grinned. "The way you look, even alittle fellow like me would be perfectly safe in spitting upon you."
Before he went, he explained the mechanism of the _Vagabond_thoroughly to his friends. Finally they nodded; they would know how towork the controls.
There was the question of weapons. The captured sun-tube was out ofthe question; it could not be secreted beneath the dark-blue blouse.Hilary fondled his automatic wistfully.
"If only I had some bullets," he sighed.
"Hell, man, I know where you can get plenty," said Wat. There was ahidden cache, not far from where they were, stored against the day.There were still some brave spirits left on Earth who hoped andplotted. Wat had been one of them. Hilary's spirits rose immeasurably.With his gun loaded he could face the whole Mercutian planet.
* * * * *
Hilary made the return journey to Great New York in an hour. He wormedhis way carefully to the nearest conveyor, and made his way openly tothe express platform, secure in his disguise.
There was an air of unrest, of tension in the air. The Earthpassengers no longer sat dully, apathetically, as they were whizzedalong. Little groups buzzed together, excited, gesticulating.
Hilary unostentatiously joined one. There was a sudden silence as hesank quietly into his seat, glances of uneasy suspicion. But he lookedthoroughly innocuous, and the chief whisperer felt emboldened toresume the thread of his interrupted discourse.
"There _are_ men left on Earth," he mouthed secretively to the littlecircle of heads. "The Mercutians went down like animals--fifteen ofthem killed, I hear. The whole company of guards retreated in ahurry"--he paused for greater effect, and continued slowly andimpressively--"from--three--Earthmen."
Hilary raised his head sharply. They were discussing his exploit,evidently. With exaggerations of course. That was inevitable.
"Yes, sir," the speaker proceeded, "that shows you. These damnedMercutians are not invulnerable. They can be overcome, chased off theEarth. But we've got to be men, not slaves."
High excitement shone in the surrounding faces.
"But we ain't got no weapons," a small, weak-chinned man protested.
The other spat carefully: "No weapons, huh? Man, I could show you--"
A dark, silent man standing uninterestedly next to him jabbed him inthe ribs. The orator gulped and stammered: "I--I mean--"
"Psst," someone hissed hurriedly, "the Mercutians."
* * * * *
Three giant Mercutian guards, their sun-tubes at the ready, stumbledheavily down the aisles of the express, sagging with the pull ofEarth's gravitation. Their gray, warted faces were black asthunderclouds.
They stopped before the hastily scattered group.
"You heard the orders," the hugest one barked: "no congregating ofEarth slaves on the conveyors or elsewhere. Next time you disobey,I'll ray you. You understand?"
"Yes, Magnificent," the weak-chinned man muttered hurriedly.
But the little knot reformed immediately after the guards had passedon.
"Magnificents!" The first speaker spat viciously. "I'd like to wringtheir necks."
Hilary shifted unobtrusively to another excited cluster. There thesame procedure was followed. A quiet-voiced man was talking, laudingthe exploit of the three embattled Earthmen, skillfully and subtlyenkindling enthusiasm, raising wholesome doubts as to theinvulnerability of the hated Mercutians.
Numerous patrols of guards stalked up and down the conveyors,arrogant, manifestly itching for a pretext to ray the conquered. Butthe Earthmen gave them no opportunity. The groups melted at theirapproach into meek, vacuous individuals; reformed instantly as theymoved on. And there were no informers. The Earthmen had resumed theiralmost forgotten Earth solidarity in fronting the invaders.
* * * * *
Hilary watched the restless shifting groups with a glow of pride. Thiswas his work, the spark he had kindled was being fanned into a steadyblaze. These whisperers, these exhorters, who were they? Members of anunderground organization? Possibly. Wat and Grim had both belonged toloose circles, vague and shifting in membership. Possibly they werecoalescing now, joining up into a world-wide organization. He hopedso. It would make his task easier, it also helped restore his pride inbeing an Earthman. He had almost thought that this supine listlessrace of his was not worth rescuing.
He reached the terminal in Great New York without untoward incident.No one challenged this meek, shabby-looking Earthman. The Mercutiansgave him barely a glance; the Earthmen disregarded him when theywhispered together. Hilary was content; he was not seeking unduenotice.
The terminal was the scene of unwonted activity. The conveyors weredisgorging crowds of Earthmen, grim, determined-looking individuals.They scattered purposefully through the various exits of the hugebuilding. Hilary noted with interest that there were no women, nochildren, on the constantly incoming expresses.
The Mercutians were massing, too. The terminal was crowded withguards. They stalked heavily about, shouldering their Earth slavesrudely out of the way, sending them sprawling with sudden quickshoves. It would take only an untoward word, a false movement, tostart a massacre. The Mercutians were deliberately trying to egg themon.
But the Earthmen took the abuse, the physical violence, quietly. Theypicked themselves up, disappeared through the exits, giving way to newarrivals. Once Hilary caught a gleam of familiar steel in theunbuttoned recess of a man's blouse pocket. He smiled. There wereuntoward events impending.
But first he must take care of his own private matter. Joan was acaptive in the hands of the Mercutian Viceroy. What was his name? Wathad told him. That was it--Artok.
* * * * *
He was out in the street now, a wide vita-crystal paved thoroughfare,one of the many that radiated from the terminal like the spokes of awheel. On either side was an upflung spray of tall receding towers,dazzling in the sunshine.
It struck Hilary suddenly. There had been bright unclouded skiesduring the days since his arrival. Only at night had it rained, likeclockwork: every night for fifteen minutes immediately after midnight.A light steady shower that ceased as suddenly as it sprang up. It wasunusual. This was April in the Spring of 2348 and April was always amonth of showery heavens. Had the Mercutians, accustomed to theblazing light of their own planet, deliberately managed some way tocreate perpetual sunshine on Earth? Very likely, considering theclockwork night showers, no doubt for the purpose of preventingdroughts. There was the matter of weapons and power, too. They alldepended on the sun.
Hilary took the inside moving platform. It would take him to theRobbins Building. The street was black with people, surging back andforth, restless, ominous.
Mercutians stalked purposefully along, in companies of ten. Theirguttural voices were harsh with command. The Earthmen scattered out oftheir way. Those who were not nimble enough were knocked down,trampled underfoot.
One Earthman, braver than the rest, or more foolish, gave vent to ascream of rage, when a young girl, with whom he was arm in arm, waswrested brutally away. His fist shot out, caught the leering guardflush on his chin.
The Mercutian staggered, then bellowed with rage. His tube flas
There was a full-throated growl from the jammed thoroughfare, a suddensurging forward. But the guards, reinforced by others, had their tubeslifted, ominous, death-dealing. The crowd ebbed back hastily.
* * * * *
Hilary had joined the first rush. His blood pounded in his veins atthe unprovoked brutality. For a hasty moment he visioned thecommencement of the revolt. But as the mob retreated before theweapons, his brain cooled. The time was not ripe yet. It would bepure slaughter. Besides, there was Joan.
Once more he was the meek, downtrodden slave. He got off the platform,shambled over to the Robbins Building, an imposing pile ofvita-crystal. It rose high into the air, overtopping even the greatMemorial Tower. Martin Robbins had been wealthy, very much so. He hadbeen a physicist of world repute, and this building was a monument tohis inventive genius. The top floors were devoted to marvelouslyequipped laboratories. On the roof were the living quarters--dwellingof many rooms surrounded by an alpine garden. All Great New Yorkstretched beneath. In the distance the green waters of the Atlanticdazzled in the sunshine.
Hilary knew the layout well. It had been his second home before.... Heput the bitter thoughts determinedly behind him. There was work ahead.The stooped, hollow-cheeked creature shambled aimlessly up to theentrance. It was filled with Mercutian guards.
He edged his way along, hoping to pass through unnoticed.
"Here, you," a burly Mercutian barred his way, "get out of here beforeI ray you."
* * * * *
Hilary seemed to shrivel together in mortal terror. He turned to slinkout again. The guard had him by the shoulder, was propelling him withungentle paws toward the exit. Hilary let himself be shoved.
A cold curt voice spoke a sharp command:
"What have you there?"
Where had Hilary heard that voice before?
The pushing guard spun him around hastily.
"He was trying to get into the building, Cor Urga," he saidrespectfully. "These damned Earth slaves are everywhere under foot.It's time we rayed a few to teach them a lesson."
Hilary found himself gazing at the gray saturnine countenance that hadburnt itself into his memory. Urga--the Mercutian who had kidnapedJoan! His muscles tensed suddenly for a quick spring, then relaxed. Hemust play the game.
Urga looked him over carefully, puzzled.
"Strange," he grunted, "I've seen this fellow before, but I cannotremember where."
Hilary was taut. Would he be recognized?
But the Mercutian Cor--in Earth terms, Captain of a Hundred--shook hishead finally, and turned away. The disguise had held up.
"All these Earth slaves look alike. This one is a particularly poorspecimen. Turn him loose. If he tries to come in again, kill him.
"Get," the guard growled viciously, and sent Hilary sprawling out intothe street to the muttering accompaniment of the seething Earthcrowds. The temper of the people was rapidly reaching the explosionpoint.
* * * * *
But Hilary picked himself up, meekly brushed himself off, and meltedunostentatiously into the moving crowd. He desired no undue attention.
Strangely enough, there were no Mercutians in sight. Only the surging,growling Earthmen. Hilary felt their mysterious disappearance to beominous--as though they had been warned by some secret signal.Something terrible was about to happen. He must get to that certainpassageway he knew, and quickly. If only it were not guarded.
A cry went up about him, a yell of many voices.
"The Mercutians are coming."
Hilary whirled. Down the street, issuing from the terminal, deployeda full regiment of guards, bowed under the strong pull of the Earth,but formidable enough. Sun-tubes glinted dangerously. A stentorianvoice reached him. "Clear the streets, you Earth dogs," it roared."You're been warned enough. One minute to obey and I'll burn you alldown."
A babel of excited voices went up. The crowds farther down, near theadvancing Mercutians, melted into a wild scramble. Men trampled eachother underfoot in a mad attempt to reach safety before the minute'sexpiration.
Where Hilary had paused, there was a milling indecisiveness. Men werealready quietly edging their way toward adjoining buildings, into sidethoroughfares; others were more belligerent.
"Kill the bloody beasts!" a man suddenly screamed near Hilary, drawinga pistol from beneath his blouse. He waved it frantically in the air.There was an ugly surge, a low-throated growl. It needed very littlefor the mob to get out of hand and hurl itself upon the steadilyapproaching Mercutian regiment.
Hilary acted swiftly. He caught the man's pistol arm, thrust it downsharply out of sight. A quick wrench, and the gun was in his own hand.The man, wild-eyed, opened his mouth to shout.
"Shut up," Hilary hissed fiercely. "Are you mad? You wouldn't have achance. They'd ray us all clean out of existence." He thrust thepistol back into the man's blouse. "Wait; our chance will come."
"Oh, my God! Look!" someone screamed.
A command shattered the air; the tubes of the Mercutians uplifted; ablinding sheet of flame blazed solidly down the street. The minute'sgrace was up.
* * * * *
Even at this distance, the heat scorched and seared. There were manyunfortunates caught farther down, men who had had no chance to seeksafety in time. They melted in the furnace blast as though they werebits of metal in an electric arc.
"Run for your lives!" the shout went up. All thought of resistance wasgone. It was every one for himself. The man with the gun was the firstto run. Hilary found himself caught in the mad rush. The Mercutianswere pounding along methodically raying in front of them.
Hilary was thrust into a little eddy of men to one side. It swirledand shoved. The entrance of the Pullman Building loomed ahead. Thesight of it gave Hilary new vigor. That was his destination. If onlyhe could make it.
He straightened out of his stoop, squared his shoulders. The nextinstant a human battering ram crashed through the twirling, yellingmob. Head down, right shoulder and elbow working in unison, a pathmagically opened where no path had been before. Every second wasprecious now. The heat of the tubes was engulfing him in waves,raising little blisters on the unprotected skin.
Hilary plunged into the open entrance of the Pullman Building. It waspacked with humanity, struggling for the lift platforms, to take themto the upper stories, out of reach of the awful rays. Hilary wasthankful for that. His destination was beneath, in the sub-levels. Amoving escalator led downward. It was deserted.
A fierce, wild screaming arose outside, screams that gurgled and diedhorribly. Hilary felt sick inside. The full blast of the rays hadreached the milling crowd. It would be a hideous and mercilessslaughter.
* * * * *
Hilary's gray eyes burned, his lips set in a straight, hard line. Thebeasts would pay for this. He shot down the escalator at full speed. Aspray of passageways met him. He did not hesitate. He chose the onefarthest to the left and dashed along its winding length until he cameto a dead end. The vita-crystal gleamed blankly back at him.
But Hilary knew what he was doing. Long ago Martin Robbins had toldhim of the secret connection between the two adjoining buildings. Apassageway that led between the outer and inner shells of crystalwalls; lifts that shot smoothly to the laboratories andpent-apartments on the roofs of the two structures. For Simeon Pullmanhad been a close friend of Robbins; a fellow physicist, in fact. Theyinterchanged theories, results of experiments, and found this swiftconnection most convenient.
Both men were dead now--Pullman as the result of a prematureexplosion, and Robbins, executed by the Mercutians. But the secretpassageway remained.
Hilary pressed the secret spring he knew of. A gleaming oblong ofcrystal slid silently open. He went in without hesitation and theslide closed with a little whir behind him.
A low tunnel confronted him, just barely high enough for him to movewithout stooping. The walls here were of burnished metal, glowing withimpregnated cold-light. It was empty, silent. Evidently it had beenundisturbed for years. The Mercutians had not discovered this secretway then.
* * * * *
The tunnel slanted downward for several hundred yards, then turnedsharply upward until a vita-crystal wall barred the way. Hilary couldhear vague sounds from the other side. He was in the RobbinsBuilding. He turned to the left, where a shaft stretched upward,completely enclosed by crystal walls. A thin oblong edging showed theplatform beneath. He stepped on it, hesitated for a moment. There weretwo control buttons; one that stopped the lift in the laboratory, theother in the sleeping room that once was Martin Robbins'.
Hilary decided in favor of the penthouse; there was less chance of apresent occupant of the room. If there was--he shrugged his shouldersand loosened the automatic in his blouse. He pressed the button.
The platform shot smoothly upward, up, up, thrusting a thousand feetup. At length it came to a gliding halt. Hilary knew he was on theroof now, in the interior of the wall making one side of thesleep-apartment. The vita-crystal gleamed mockingly opaque at him. Ifonly he could see through; if only he had a Mercutian search beam now.Was there someone in the room on the other side of the wall? Hestrained his ears to listen, but the crystal was pretty muchsound-proof.
Very quietly Hilary drew his gun, broke it, examined the chamber. Thesix bullets lay snug. He snapped it back in position, held theautomatic butt against his side, reached over and pressed the releasebutton.
* * * * *
The slide whirred open. Hilary waited a second, tense, ready to shootat the slightest sound. His eyes bored through the oblong. Nothing wasin sight except the luxurious furnishings he remembered so well;nothing stirred. But his vision was limited to that part of the roomframed by the slide. With infinite caution he peered out, hissearching gaze flicking swiftly, around the sleep-apartment. It was aman's room with built in divans, automatic sleep-spray, wall rack tohold illuminated book sheets, magnified so as to be read comfortablyfrom a reclining position on the divan--in short, the usual orderedluxuries of a well-furnished sleep-room.
It was empty--but the divan was touseled, certain small thingsdisarranged. Someone used this room. Hilary stepped out, leaving theslide behind him open in case of an enforced retreat. He paused tothink. Where could Joan be held prisoner--if, and it was a big if--shewere really here. He ran over the possibilities.
The laboratories were out of the question. The great master room then.No doubt Artok, the Viceroy, had installed himself there. It wasregally magnificent. That might repay a visit. A bold scheme flashedacross his mind. Seize Artok himself, abduct him into the secretpassage, and compel him to disclose Joan's whereabouts, give her up.Hilary smiled grimly. Sheerly suicidal, yes, but he was desperate now,and there seemed no other way.
Gun shifted back into his blouse, with his right hand thrust in, onthe butt, he glided softly out of the chamber. No one was in sight.The passageway seemed oddly deserted. Possibly the staff had beenattracted to the outer rim of the terrace by the commotion below.
At the end of the passageway, facing him, was the master room. Anotherswift look about, and Hilary was moving down the long corridor, closeto the wall, his footfalls deadened by the soft composition rug.
Slowly, very slowly, he pressed the button to release the slide. Itslid open at a barely perceptible rate. As the slender crack widened,Hilary, looked in, taking care to keep his body to one side.