Captain Future 09 - Quest Beyond the Stars (Winter 1942) (12 page)

They subsided, though Otho still looked worried. But Taunus Tar, the fat Fomalhautian beside him, was exclaiming in delight.

“This is going to be some feast! Look at that — and I’m perishing from hunger!”

“I’d rather be gnawing crusts back on the dark star,” muttered Ki Illok. The Sagittarian star captain’s brown face was frowning with distrust.

They entered a regal banquet hall with shimmering silver walls and soft lights, whose broad windows looked out upon the flowering palace gardens. A long table laden with tall flagons and gleaming metal dishes piled high with fruits and roasts extended along the hall. Larstan assigned Captain Future the place of honor beside himself and Liane. Soft-footed servants filled their white metal goblets with a thick black wine of pungent fragrance. Larstan raised his goblet toward Curt Newton.

“To our new friends from the great outside universe!”

All along the long table, the Korian courtiers drank. Curt tasted the wine. It was sweet and heady, and he drank little of it. Above all, he must keep a clear head tonight! But no such scruples oppressed Hol Jor. The big red Antarian captain downed his wine with a gulp and wiped his lips.

“Good stuff, though a trifle over-sweet,” he approved loudly. “This isn’t a bad world.”

Otho and Taunus Tar and Ber Del joined him, though Ki Illok curtly refused the wine. But the chief attention of the Korians along the table was centered upon Grag. They had never seen a being like the great metal robot before and watched him with intense interest. Grag had seated himself with ponderous dignity. His photo-electric eyes keenly surveyed the viands, and then he pointed his mighty metal arm toward a copper platter of fowl farther down the table.

“Pass me that dish, Ber Del,” the robot boomed to the old Vegan.

Wonderingly, the Vegan did so. And the whole Korian assembly craned their necks along the table to stare puzzledly at Grag.

“Does the metal man eat food?” they murmured wonderingly.

Grag took the copper platter and emptied the fowl upon it into another dish. Then, with his powerful metal hands, he calmly tore the platter itself into fragments. While all gaped, Grag reached down and opened a small door in the front of his metal torso. Behind it was the fuel-chamber of the atomic power plant which supplied the energy of his mechanical body. Grag stuffed the copper shreds into the niche, closed the tiny door, then looked around satisfiedly.

“Well, I’ve had my dinner,” he boomed loudly. “What are we sitting around here for?”

“You bucket-headed refugee from a machine shop, do you think we’re all built like you?” Otho retorted. “That’s a terrible display of company manners — eating the dishes instead of the food.”

Even Larstan looked startled. “I thought at first this metal follower of yours was only a clever machine!”

CURT asked the Korian question. “This world of Kor seems a rich, fruitful planet. When that is so, why do you want the secret of matter-mastery so badly? You don’t really need it here.”

“This is not the only world inside the cloud. We Korians feel that if we had the secret of the Birthplace we could use it to bring law and order and happiness to all these worlds within the cloud.”

The green king then turned the subject. But his remark had been sufficient to give Captain Future an insight into the motives which obsessed Larstan with ambition to secure the secret of the Birthplace. Curt was beginning to feel the strain. He clearly perceived how precarious “was their position here in Kor.

Larstan, he knew, was displaying all this friendliness for a shrewd reason. The Korian king coveted the scientific secrets of their ship and weapons to strengthen his space fleet for the attack on Thruun. That was, Curt knew, his only real card. So far, he had played it skillfully. But he was well aware that a man of Larstan’s powerful intelligence could not be put off long. The green king would demand a decision. Captain Future was resolved under no circumstances to become Larstan’s ally. It was utterly against Curt’s code to let his scientific powers be used for war against a possibly unoffending people. But as soon as Larstan learned this, a dangerous crisis would be precipitated.

“We’ve got to get out of this trap as soon as possible,” Curt thought. “Even if we have to fight our way out of Kor!”

He wanted very much to confer with Simon Wright and chafed inwardly at the length of the feast. But Otho and all the star captains except Ki Illok appeared to be enjoying it thoroughly. Their goblets had been constantly refilled with the heady black wine as they ate. Now fat Taunus Tar, industriously devouring a roasted fowl, was winking invitingly at a Korian girl across the table, while Otho and Hol Jor and Ber Del argued loudly about past adventures. These hardy space-rovers already felt completely at home.

“I tell you, you’ve never done any real space piloting unless you’ve tried running the short course across Scorpio to Antares,” Hol Jor was exclaiming. The big red Antarian wagged his head solemnly. “Dead suns and meteor swarms and comets thick as flies all the way — a sweet mess that is to find a way through.”

Old Ber Del nodded his hairless blue head in agreement. “That Scorpio passage is bad, I know. But it’s nothing beside the big Sagittarian star clusters. I’d rather take my chance on anything than to thread my course through those crazy swarms of suns. What worlds they have are usually covered with the most devilish, menacing creatures you ever saw. If you have to make a landing, it’s too bad for you. Eh, Ki Illok?”

The brown Sagittarian nodded curtly. “The clusters are bad,” he said in his clipped way.

SKUR KAL, the younger Antarian, put in a word.
“I’ve
never seen anything worse than the worlds of that double star Inthor, over by Altair. The creatures on those planets aren’t even solid, they’re liquid horrors that look like something out of a nightmare.”

Otho regarded them all with scorn. “And you think you chaps have been through dangers? Why, all that would be just a picnic back in my part of the galaxy.”

“Is space voyaging so dangerous back there?” old Ber Del asked him.

“Is it dangerous!” Otho cried. He laughed scornfully. “How would you like to have gone through the things we Futuremen have run up against? How would you like being prisoned by fish-men down at the bottom of Neptune’s sea, or flying your ship toward an invisible world in an extra-dimensional plane, or racing out straight toward a runaway dark star that was threatening to smash up a half dozen planets?”

“Have you done all that?” Ber Del asked Otho, with considerable awe.

“Have I
done
it?” Otho repeated. He smiled in superior fashion. “I don’t like to talk about myself. You tell them, Grag — tell them what I did to the winged men of Saturn when they attacked me.”

“You didn’t do anything that I remember,” Grag said flatly in his loud voice. “All you did was get yourself tied up by them, and we had to come and rescue you.”

“Why, you double-crossing hunk of old iron!” exclaimed Otho enragedly as a shout of laughter went up from the others.

Curt Newton was glad when the feast finally came to an end. Larstan smiled at him in friendly fashion as they left the banquet hall.

“Uzhur will see you back to your chambers,” Larstan said. “In the morning we will begin planning the attack on Thruun.”

“In the morning,” Captain Future replied noncommittally.

Uzhur eyed him cunningly as they climbed the silver stairs. “You are wise to cast your lot with us Korians,” commended the sly-eyed old noble. “Only thus could you ever reach the Birthplace.”

Curt made no answer. He noticed the guards still were on duty in the corridor outside their suite. When they entered the softly lit rooms, Uzhur stepped in with them and looked sharply around.

“Where is your other follower — the one you call the Brain?” the old noble asked sharply.

“Captain Future saw with dismay that Simon was nowhere in the rooms. He knew the Brain must not yet have returned from his venture. And be could see that Uzhur’s suspicions were definitely aroused.

“This smacks of conspiracy against the king!” snapped Uzhur to Curt. “If your comrade has fled —”

CURT NEWTON saw that Uzhur was on the point of giving an alarm. It wouId ruin everything. Curt resolved to overpower the noble and fight it out with the guards, here and now. But this resolution was averted. At that moment a chill, rasping voice spoke above them. “What is wrong?” They looked up. The Brain was floating near the ceiling, hovering upon his traction beams and surveying them with cold lens-eyes.

Uzhur was all apologies at once. “I did not think of looking up there for him! I thought he had fled.”

“Why should Simon flee when we are among friends?” Curt demanded coolly.

“Of course — of course,” sweated Uzhur. “It was all a mistake on my part. I beg you will not mention it to the king.”

Bowing nervously, the old noble took his leave. The moment the door closed after him, Captain Future turned toward Simon. The Brain had come gliding down toward them.

“That was close, Simon!” breathed Curt. “You weren’t up there all the time, were you?”

“No, I heard Uzhur’s voice as I was returning here through the ventilation tube, and I hastened to slip out of the tube when he wasn’t looking.”

“Just what did you learn from Larstan?”

“Plenty, and none of it good,” Curt answered soberly. “There’s a nest of intrigue and war in this space inside the cloud, and we’re right in the middle of it.”

He went on to narrate to Simon Wright what Larston had told him about the Birthplace of Matter, the proposal of the Korian king that they use their scientific powers as his allies to attack Thruun. Simon did not seem surprised.

“I guessed that Larstan would make some such proposal, from what Thyria told me.”

“Thyria? Who is she?”

“A princess of Thruun, imprisoned in one of the dungeons of the palace,” answered the Brain. He told how he had discovered the girl captive.

“Then
she
must be the Thruunian captive whom Larstan mentioned,” Curt guessed.

“Aye, lad,” corroborated the Brain. “She told me they used hypnotic questioning upon her. Thus they learned from her that the Thruunians do
not
possess the secret of matter-mastery, and ever since he learned that, Larstan has been making preparations to attack Thruun. Once Thruun is conquered, he can reach the Birthplace and win its secret. Larstan has plans of conquest in case he secures the secret.” Captain Future said soberly. “He cherishes an ambition to conquer the other worlds of stars here inside the cloud.”

He told of the Korian king’s significant remark on that subject.

“But
could he hope to conquer a dozen planets?” Otho exclaimed.

“If he had the secret of the Birthplace of Matter,” Curt reminded, “he’d have a terrific weapon — power to create matter instantaneously out of sheer radiation. Think of the ships, machines, instruments of war the Korians could create with that secret!”

Otho looked thoughtful, and the other star-rovers seemed uneasy.

“We ought to do anything we can to prevent Larstan from getting that power!” Hol Jor exclaimed.

“Why don’t we join forces with the Thruunians?” said Ki Illok.

Otho objected. “We don’t know anything about the Thruunians. They might be utterly hostile to us.”

“Not if we freed their captive princess and took her to Thruun with us,” Captain Future declared.

THEY looked at him sharply, surprised by the idea. Curt spoke rapidly. “We want to do two things — we want to win the secret of the Birthplace to aid our own worlds, and we want to prevent Larstan from getting it and using it for conquest here. I think we can best achieve both of those ends by joining the Thruunians, as Ki Illok suggests. The Thruunians would surely welcome us as friends if we rescued and restored their princess to them.”

“A good idea, but how are we going to do it?” Otho objected gloomily. “The girl is locked in one of the palace dungeons, we’re kept under guard here and the
Comet
is many miles away.”

Captain Future looked at the Brain. “Simon, you could get out of here through the ventilation-ducts. Do you think you could reach the
Comet
and bring it back here?”

“I believe so,” replied the Brain. “It shouldn’t be too hard for me to get it away from those guards and fly it back. But where would I land?”

“On the palace roof,” Curt told him. “We’ll be waiting for you there with this girl Thyria — if we’re successful. I suggest you start at once. You should be back in about an hour if you make it.”

“Very well,” replied the Brain. He hesitated a moment then added, “Be careful, lad.”

This evidence of emotion in the ordinarily coldly unemotional Brain brought a warm smile into Curt Newton’s tanned face.

“We will, Simon.”

The Brain glided upward on his traction beams toward the square opening of the ventilator duct. In a moment, he had disappeared inside the tube.