Triplanetary
will not be particularly pleasant."
"I say NO, you...." Bradley roared. He intended to give an unexpurgated
classification, but was rudely interrupted.
"Hold on a minute!" snapped Costigan. "How about Miss Marsden?"
"She has nothing to do with this discussion," returned Roger, icily. "I
do not bargain--in fact, I believe that I shall keep her for a time. She
has it in mind to destroy herself, if I do not allow her to be ransomed,
but she will find that door closed to her until I permit it to open."
"In that case, I string along with the Chief--take what he started to
say about you and run it clear across the board for me!" barked
Costigan.
"Very well. That decision was to be expected from men of your type." The
gray man touched two buttons and two of his creatures entered the room.
"Put these men into separate cells on the second level," he ordered.
"Search them to the skin: all their weapons may not have been in their
armor. Seal the doors and mount special guards, tuned to me here."
Imprisoned they were, and carefully searched; but they bore no arms, and
nothing had been said or thought of communicators. Even if such
instruments could be concealed, Roger would detect their use instantly.
At least, so would have run his thought had the subject entered his
mind. But even Roger had no inkling of the possibility of Costigan's
"Service Special" phones, detectors and spy-ray--instruments of minute
size and of infinitesimal power, but yet instruments which, working as
they were, below the level of the ether, were effective at great
distances and caused no vibrations in the ether by which their use could
be detected. And what could be more innocent than the regulation,
personal equipment of every officer of space? The heavy goggles, the
wrist-watch and its supplementary pocket chronometer, the flash-lamp,
the automatic lighter, the sender, the money-belt?
All these items of equipment were examined with due care; but the
cleverest minds of Triplanetary's Secret Service had designated those
communicators to pass any ordinary search, however careful, and when
Costigan and Bradley were finally locked into the designated cells, they
still possessed their ultra-instruments.
CHAPTER II
In Roger's Planetoid
In the hall Clio glanced around her wildly, her bosom heaving, eyes
darting here and there, seeking even the narrowest avenue of escape.
Before she could act, however, her body was clamped inflexibly, as
though in a vise, and she struggled, motionless.
"It is useless to attempt to escape, or to do anything except what Roger
wishes," the guide informed her somberly, snapping off the instrument in
her hand and thus restoring to the thoroughly cowed girl her freedom of
motion.
"His lightest wish is law," she continued as they walked down a long
corridor. "The sooner you realize that you must do exactly as he
pleases, in all things, the easier your life will be."
"But I wouldn't _want_ to keep on living!" Clio declared, with a flash
of spirit. "And I can _always_ die, you know."
"You will find that you cannot," the passionless creature returned,
monotonously. "If you do not yield, you will long and pray for death,
but you will not die unless Roger wills it. I was like you once. I also
struggled, and I became what I am now--whatever it is. Here is your
apartment. You will stay here until Roger gives further orders
concerning you."
The living automaton opened a door and stood silent and impassive, while
Clio, staring at her in unutterable horror, shrank past her and into the
sumptuously furnished suite. The door closed soundlessly and utter
silence descended as a pall. Not an ordinary silence, but the
indescribable perfection of the absolute, complete absence of all sound.
In that silence Clio stood motionless. Tense and rigid, hopeless,
despairing, she stood there in that magnificent room, fighting an almost
overwhelming impulse to scream. Suddenly she heard the cold voice of
Roger, speaking from the empty air.
"You are over-wrought, Miss Marsden. You can be of no use to yourself or
to me in that condition. I command you to rest; and, to insure that
rest, you may pull that cord, which will establish about this room an
ether wall: a wall cutting off even this my voice...."
The voice ceased as she pulled the cord savagely and threw herself upon
a divan in a torrent of gasping, strangling, but rebellious sobs. Then
again came a voice, but not to her ears. Deep within her, pervading
every bone and muscle, it made itself felt rather than heard.
"Clio?" it asked. "Don't talk yet...."
"Conway!" she gasped in relief, every fiber of her being thrilled into
new hope at the deep, well-remembered voice of Conway Costigan.
"Keep still!" he snapped. "Don't act so happy! He may have a spy-ray on
you. He can't hear me, but he may be able to hear you. When he was
talking to you you must have noticed a sort of rough, sandpapery feeling
under that necklace I gave you? Since he's got an ether-wall around you
the beads are dead now. If you feel anything like that under the
wrist-watch, breathe deeply, twice. If you don't feel anything there,
it's safe for you to talk, as loud as you please.
"I don't feel a thing, Conway!" she rejoiced. Tears forgotten, she was
her old, buoyant self again. "So that wall _is_ real, after all? I only
about half believed it."
"Don't trust it too much, because he can cut it off from the outside any
time he wants to. Remember what I told you: that necklace will warn you
of any spy-ray in the ether, and the watch will detect anything below
the level of the ether. It's dead now, of course, since our three phones
are direct-connected; I'm in touch with Bradley, too. Don't be too
scared; we've got a lot better chance that I thought we had."
"What? You don't mean it!"
"Absolutely. I'm beginning to think that maybe we've got something he
doesn't know exists--our ultra-wave. Of course I wasn't surprised when
his searchers failed to find our instruments, but it never occurred to
me that I might have a clear field to use them in! I can't quite believe
it yet, but I haven't been able to find any indication that he can even
detect the bands we are using. I'm going to look around over there with
my spy-ray ... I'm looking at you now--feel it?"
"Yes, the watch feels that way, now."
"Fine! Not a sign of interference over here, either. I can't find a
trace of ultra-wave--anything below ether-level, you know--anywhere in
the whole place. He's got so much stuff that we've never heard of that I
supposed of course he'd have ultra-wave, too; but if he hasn't, that
gives us the edge. Well, Bradley and I've got a lot of work to do....
Wait a minute, I just had a thought. I'll be back in about a second."
There was a brief pause, then the soundless, but clear voice went on:
"Good hunting! That woman that gave you the blue willies isn't
alive--she's full of the prettiest machinery and communicators you ever
saw!"
"Oh, Conway!" and the girl's voice broke in an engulfing wave of
thanksgiving and relief. "It was so unutterably horrible, thinking of
what must have happened to her and to others like her!"
"He's running a colossal bluff, I think. He's good, all right, but he
lacks quite a lot of being omnipotent. But don't get too cocky, either.
Plenty has happened to plenty of women here, and men too--and plenty may
happen to us unless we put out a few jets. Keep a stiff upper lip, and
if you want us, yell. 'Bye!"
The silent voice ceased, the watch upon Clio's wrist again became an
unobtrusive timepiece, and Costigan, in his solitary cell far below her
tower room, turned his peculiarly goggled eyes toward other scenes. In
his pockets his hands manipulated tiny controls, and through the lenses
of those goggles Costigan's keen and highly-trained eyes studied every
concealed detail of mechanism of the great globe, the while he planned
what must be done. Finally, he took off the goggles and spoke in a low
voice to Bradley, confined in another windowless room across the hall.
"I think I've got dope enough, Captain. I've found out where he put our
armor and guns, and I've located all the main leads, controls, and
generators. There are no ether-walls around us here, but every door is
shielded, and there are guards outside our doors--one to each of us.
They're robots, not men. That makes it harder, since they're undoubtedly
connected direct to Roger's desk, and will give an alarm at the first
hint of abnormal performance. We can't do a thing until he leaves his
desk. See that black panel, a little below the cord-switch to the right
of your door? That's the conduit cover. When I give you the word, tear
that off and you'll see one red wire in the cable. It feeds the
shield-generator of your door. Break that wire and join me out in the
hall. Sorry I had only one of these ultra-wave spies, but once we're
together it won't be so bad. Here's what I thought we could do," and he
went over in detail the only course of action which his surveys had
shown to be possible.
"There, he's left his desk!" Costigan exclaimed after the conversation
had continued for almost an hour. "Now as soon as we find out where he's
going, we'll start something ... he's going to see Clio, the swine! This
changes things, Bradley!" His hard voice was a curse.
"Somewhat!" blazed the captain. "I know how you two have been getting on
all during the cruise. I'm with you, but what can we do?"
"We'll do something," Costigan declared grimly. "If he makes a pass at
her I'll get him if I have to blow this whole sphere out of space, with
us in it!"
"Don't do that, Conway." Clio's low voice, trembling but determined, was
felt by both men and both gasped audibly: they had forgotten that there
were three instruments in the circuit. "If there's a chance for you to
get away and do anything about fighting him, don't mind me. Maybe he
only wants to talk about the ransom, anyway."
"He wouldn't talk ransom to _you_--he's going to talk something else
entirely," Costigan gritted; then his voice changed suddenly. "But say,
maybe it's just as well this way. They didn't find our specials when
they searched us, you know, and we're going to do plenty of damage right
soon now. Roger probably isn't a fast worker--more the cat-and-mouse
type, I'd say--and after we get started he'll have something on his mind
besides you. Think you can stall him off and keep him interested for
about fifteen minutes?"
"I'm sure I can--I'll do _anything_ to help us, or you, get away from
this horrible...." Her voice ceased as Roger broke the ether-wall of her
apartment and walked toward the divan upon which she crouched in
wide-eyed, helpless, trembling terror.
"Get ready, Bradley!" Costigan directed tersely. "He's left Clio's
ether-wall off, so that any abnormal signals would be relayed to him
from his desk--he knows that there's no chance of anyone disturbing him
in _that_ room. But I'm holding my beam on that switch--it's as good a
conductor as metal--so that the wall is on, full strength. No matter
what we do now, he can't get a warning. I'll have to hold the beam
exactly on the switch, though, so you'll have to do the dirty work. Tear
out that red wire and kill those two guards. You know how to kill a
robot, don't you?"
"Yes--break his eye-lenses and his eardrums and he'll stop whatever he's
doing and send out distress calls.... Got 'em both. Now what?"
"Open my door--the shield switch is to the right."
Costigan's door flew open and the Triplanetary captain leaped into the
room.
"Now for our armor!" he cried.
"Not yet!" snapped Costigan. He was standing rigid, goggled eyes staring
immovably at a spot upon the ceiling. "I can't move a millimeter until