When freemen shall stand

When freemen shall stand
Author: Nelson S. Bond
Pages: 298,316 Pages
Audio Length: 4 hr 8 min
Languages: en

Summary

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Louisville became a hell of battle.

  








All he did realize was that the attack achieved its purpose in taking the Daans completely by surprise.Years of rulership had made them contemptuous of their human enemies; they paid now, dearly, for this contempt.Before an alarm was sounded, the advancing allies had swept into the heart of the city; before sleep-befogged soldiers could man the ramparts of the central fortress, those ramparts were aswarm with clambering human warriors.






The weapon of the Daans was deadly.Its flaming ray withered whole ranks of the attackers, mowing them down with the grim, mathematical precision of a husbandman's scythe—but this slaughter seemed only to increase the fury of those who remained.Where a Wild One dropped, stricken lifeless before ever he hit the ground, there was a warrior Woman to seize the sword from his falling hand ...and fill his place in the ranks.Where Women tumbled in grotesque heaps, there were Workers to hurdle their bodies and plunge on ...ever on!



And when a Daan fell, there was a Daan's ray-weapon for his nearest foe.Thus the battle, which was one of science against sheer brute power in its early stages, shifted to one of science against science.It did not matter that the earthlings could not understand the weapons with which they fought.They could sight, and aim, and press a grip—and after each such deed there was one less foeman to overcome.



By what miracle Steve Duane came through that battle unscathed, he could never afterward say.Comrades fell before and behind him, on either side of him; their places were taken by still others who joyously fought and happily died with the battlecry frozen on their lips.But somehow he won through, and it was he who, at the end, accepted the capitulation of a dwindling handful of Daans hopelessly trapped, violently defeated, in the innermost chambers of their citadel.



This stricken remainder Jain would have ordered put to the sword but for Steve's refusal.



"No!"he commanded."They have surrendered; we have their weapons.That is enough."



"But these are the Daans, O Slumberer," protested one Clansmother, "who have annually levied tribute on our people, despoiled our villages, seized our crops, chosen the strongest of our men and women and transported them to slave miserably in the stinking swamps of their native planet—"



"Nevertheless," avowed Steve, "there shall be no more slaughter.We will hold these prisoners as hostages—Yes, Chuck?What is it?"



Lafferty had burst through the mob excitedly; now he clutched his friend's arm. "There's one guy around here is goin' to be murdered—if I have to take him out somewhere and do it myself. The dirty, connivin' scoundrel—"



"Who?"demanded Steve."What are you talking about?"



"Von Rath!" screamed Chuck. "That's who! Steve, I warned you not to trust him. The dirty Nazi rat has murdered you, just as sure as if he stuck a knife in your back—"



A quick pang of fear coursed through Stephen Duane's arteries.Even as his suddenly-dry lips framed the question, he thought he knew its answer.He said harshly, "What—what did he do?"



"Do?" howled Lafferty. "Drag him out here, Beth, so we can see him! I'll tell you what he done! He set Rodrik free! And Rodrik's on his way back to Sinnaty, hell-on-fire, to tell them that you're one of the Slumberers—so they can destroy you by remote control!"






CHAPTER XI



"A Daniel Come to Judgment"




Short moments ago Stephen Duane had been drinking deep of the heady wine of victory, basking in the radiant sunlight of renascent hope.Now a cold shadow overwhelmed that sunlight; the savor of triumph soured on his lips.He turned slowly to the man standing defiantly captive between Beth and Jon.



"Is this true, von Rath?"



The Nazi met his gaze with belligerent hauteur.



"It is true, Stephen Duane."



"But why?Why did you do it?We were enemies once, I know.But we formed a pact of friendship ...a promise of mutual assistance—"



"Pacts! Promises!" sneered von Rath. "What are these but empty words? Eric von Rath is no fool, mein Leutnant. He knows when a cause is doomed. And if ever a rebellion was foredestined to failure, this one is. Could any but a foolish, vain-glorious Yankee expect this motley, undisciplined army—" His eyes swept the rebel host derisively—"to overcome the magnificent science of the Overlords?



"Nein! It is no victory you have won here today, but a single minor skirmish of a hopeless rebellion. Surely, the Daans, even before they surrendered, sent a message to the Sinnaty garrison. Soon will come—perhaps even now it is on the way—an avenging host to wipe out this pitiful handful of upstarts.



"I, Eric von Rath, am a realist. I acknowledge a master race when I see one. I acknowledge the Overlords as masters of Earth. That is why I liberated Rodrik. That is why, when the Daans retake this place, I shall win a place high in their favor."



Lafferty grated, "Not you, weasel!When the Daans come—if they come—you ain't going to be here to see them. Because—" And he took a swift stride forward, an already crimson blade balanced judicially in his hand.



But Duane stopped him."No, Chuck!"he ordered.



Chuck swiveled, his eyebrows twin parentheses of astonishment."What! You mean to say that even now, after what he's done, you ain't going to—"



"I am going to," pledged Steve tautly, "but I myself; no one for me. Von Rath is mine. I shall take care of him personally—when I have time to do so. But now—" He swung to the warrior captain—"Jain, your forage sack, quickly! There is not a moment to waste."



The Mother Maatha asked anxiously, "What are you going to do, O Dwain?"



"I'm going after Rodrik.He has no more than a couple of hours start, and Sinnaty is a long way from here.If I'm lucky, I may be able to head him off before he can reach the Daans and spill the beans."



The Priestess Beth stepped forward, eyes lighting.



"So be it, O my mate!With the speed of the woodland hart we shall pursue him."



"Not we, Beth," corrected Duane."You're not going.This is my job; one I must do alone.You are needed here.Stay with Chuck and help him consolidate this position, that we may use Loovil as a rallying place for our ever-growing forces."



"But," cried Beth, "it is not fitting that a Woman should desert her mate in hour of peril.The way is long, and the forest dark and treacherous—"



"One," interrupted Stephen Duane, "can travel faster than two.And now every moment is precious."



He took from Jain the knapsack she had slipped from her own shoulders; the forage bag of the woodland women which contained salt and meal, taters and dried meat, tinder ... all the small necessities of a hasty trek.



"Guard von Rath well, Chuck.I'll be looking forward to meeting him again when I return.And now—good-bye.No, Beth!I have said you must stay here."



For the girl had followed him to the doorway.But there was no stubborn insistence in her eyes as she lifted them to his.There was, instead, something else.Something incredible.A softness Stephen Duane had thought never to find mirrored in the eyes of a woman such as this, his warrior priestess.



In a small and trembling voice she whispered, "I shall come no farther than this, O Dwain.But—but before you depart, can we not as man and woman once more perform the touching-of-mouths you taught me?"



And the nearness of her warmed him for the perilous journey ahead.






Stephen Duane had hoped to catch Rodrik of Mish-kin before that traitorous Brother of the Daans reached his Sinnaty goal.He had vowed to press forward at forced speed, halting no oftener than was absolutely necessary.But one thing he had failed to take into account was the fact that the urgency spurring Rodrik was as great as that which goaded himself.Rodrik knew vengeful swords would pursue him.He knew his life was forfeit should he be apprehended before he attained the sanctuary of the Daan citadel.So fear lent him a speed commensurate with Steve's determination, and because he was a strong man, woodland-trained, he maintained his precious advantage over his pursuer.



So closely did Duane press him that once, in the coolness of the dawn, he found a pallet of leaves still warm where Rodrik had rested briefly during the night.Again he found upon the roadway both used tattered shreds of a still-hot carcass; a rabbit Rodrik had killed and eaten raw, not daring to take time to cook his meal.



But it was not until Steve passed half through the deserted village of Covton and saw lifting before him the shimmering arch of the Sinnaty bridge that he actually glimpsed his quarry.Then, though his legs had been leaden with exhaustion, he spurred himself to one last desperate effort and almost closed the gap between himself and the fleeing Rodrik.



But the Mish-kinite, whose flight had been that of a frightened Janus,[7] turned and saw him—and he, too, whipped a final reserve of energy from his flagging body.



Thus it was that before Steve could draw within bowshot of his betrayer, Rodrik had screamed piteous appeal and won himself the protection of a Daan patrol.These same Venusians spotted Duane, waited for him, and took him into custody.



Their leader growled curt challenge to both humans.



"What is the meaning of this?Know you not it is forbidden armed humans shall approach our citadel?Death is the penalty for such folly."



But Rodrik bleated, "I flee in peril of my life, O masters.This man pursues me.I am Rodrik of Mish-kin, a Brother of the Daans."



And when piscine eyes narrowed upon Duane he was forced to adopt the same shibboleth."I, too, claim sanctuary," he panted heavily."I am Steve of Emmeity.I, too, am a Brother of the Daans."



The Daan captain glared at them malevolently.



"Methinks the Daans," he complained, "have all too many human Brothers.But—" He shrugged—"you have claimed the right of judgment.I shall take you to one in command."



Steve clutched at a straw of hope.There was one Venusian who might be expected to proffer him a certain favoritism."Take us to the Lady Loala, O Captain!"he demanded.







  
  

    
"I demand the right of judgment!"said Steve."Take us to the lady Loala."

  








And in the same instant Rodrik of Mish-kin cried, "Convey us to Malgro of the Council!"






But the Daan chieftain silenced them both with a gesture of his crystaline weapon."Silence.Pangru of Daan heeds not the advice of earthling scum.You shall plead your cases before Okuno, Overlord of all human disputes and Chief Executioner."



Thus a few minutes later the two earthmen, pursued and pursuer, were herded to the judgment chamber over which presided the Overlord Okuno.



It did not lessen Steve Duane's gloom to discover that Okuno was the less tyrannical Overlord who had interceded in his behalf when first he had been taken captive by the Daans.On that occasion he had been accused of no crime greater than that of wandering without a travel certificate.This time the accusation hurled against him would be that of treason.He had been warned of, and knew full well, the punishment he must expect: destruction of the cylinder on which was engraved an electrical transcription of his brain pattern.And with this—sudden death to himself.



Nor was the accusation long in coming.Rodrik of Mish-kin burst into speech the moment they entered the room.



"Hail, O Master!"he cried."May the Daan empire reign forever!"



"So be it," replied Okuno formally."You may depart, Captain."With a gesture he dismissed the warrior and his corps, then turned to the pair before him."What is the meaning of this?I recognize you two as Brothers of the Daans.Why are you brought thus hither before me?Are you not they who were sent to seek the hidden rebel refuge of Fautnox?"



"We are, O great Okuno," clarioned Rodrik.



The Overlord leaned forward.His gravely gentle face might have been a carven mask for all the emotion it displayed.But his eyes brightened with interest and his hands moved tensely."And—found you this place?"he breathed.



"We did, O Lord of the Master Race."



"Now by Jarg and Ibrim," gasped Okuno, "false gods of the earthling race, heard you any word concerning the fabulous Slumberers?"



And—Stephen Duane took a deep breath, braced his shoulders rigidly.This was it.The showdown.



For a moment he toyed with the idea of whipping his sword from its scabbard and forever stilling Rodrik's traitorous voice.But that, he knew even as the thought flashed through his brain, was a hopeless dream.Before ever he could draw his blade, the watchful Okuno could unleash destructive lightning from his crystaline hand-weapon.The only thing to do was wait.Wait and hope.



Rodrik laughed, and in his laughter was a note of brazen triumph. "Aye, that we did, my Lord! And behold, he who stands before you, the human Steve of Emmeity, who by my guile I lured back to judgment in this citadel, even he is the one known as Dwain!   He is one of the Slumberers!"



The Overlord stiffened, and his eyes swung, startled, to Steve."What!A Slumberer—thou?Does this human speak the truth?"






Steve shrugged.He could deny it, yes.But even then it would be only a matter of time before the Daans discovered the truth.And he could not see that denial was of any use now.He was doomed, anyway.Faltering or hesitation on his part would only increase the Daan's contempt for the valor of earthmen.If his last contribution to the cause of human freedom could be to instill in Venusian breasts one iota of admiration for earthling courage, and perhaps a spark of fear because a Slumberer had defied them, then he would not have died in vain.



So with a single contemptuous glance for the traitor beside him, he drew himself proudly erect and faced the Overlord boldly.Boldly he nodded his head.



"It is true, Okuno," he said."I am one of the Slumberers, wakened after fifteen hundreds of years to lead my race to freedom."



What he expected to attend his pronouncement he did not rightly know.Outrage, certainly.Anger, possibly.Sudden death, perhaps.



But none of these followed his declaration.Instead, he had the satisfaction of seeing the almost colorless lips of the Daan pale utterly.Of seeing a proud Venusian Overlord stunned and shaken.The Executioner Okuno stared at him as one stricken.His breath rasped through his lips.



"Then—then the myths, the old legends, were true! Three did sleep for centuries, and—"



"And have risen now," gritted Stephen Duane, "to lead their people out of the bonds of slavery.Yes, Overlord of Earth, count the passing moments as precious gems. For each of them brings nearer the time when you and all of your race will be exiled to the stinking marshes of the planet which spawned you."



Rodrik of Mish-kin gasped.



"Blasphemy, O great Okuno!For all the Brothers of Daan I renounce this false god and the cause he espouses.Your permission, Sire, and as token of good faith, I shall destroy him, here and now."



"Nay!" Okuno's crisp command halted the traitor's movement. "You have done Daan a great service, Rodrik of Mish-kin, but now you presume too much. It is not yours to take judgment into your own hands. This man must be dealt with as all traitors to the Brotherhood. We will make an example of him.  Guard!" He clapped his hands and warriors appeared as if by magic."I have certain preparations to make.Bring these two humans a short time hence to the execution chamber."And he left the room.






And so, when scarce an hour had passed, Stephen Duane found himself being led to that great vaulted chamber which was the execution room of the Daan Overlords. Okuno had not exaggerated when he said he would make an example of this occasion. "Spectacle" might have been a better word. For the amphitheatre was jammed. There were gathered into it scores of humans who, by the camaraderie with which they mingled with the Daan warriors, Duane rightly judged to be the assembled fellows of the Brotherhood.



He and Rodrik were motioned to a central dais, the execution dock.There they stood, side by side, Rodrik smirking triumphantly, Steve matching his grin with one of derisive bravado, while the Overlord Okuno addressed the throng.



"There stand before us," he proclaimed, "two members of the Brotherhood.One true and noble, worthy to be acknowledged a fellow of this group.The other a scoundrel and a traitor.You are gathered to watch the justice of the Daans.



"Behold, O gathered Earthmen.Watch and tremble.To that human who worked nobly and well for our Brotherhood shall be allotted great honor.To him who proved a traitor in our midst shall be meted destruction.The cylinder of him who would have betrayed us has been placed within the destruction chamber.Behold now the vengeance of the Daans—swift, terrible, and just!"



And he lifted his arm in a sign.The Venusian guard closed a master switch.A high thin whine rose to lose itself in ultrasonic heights.Crackling waves of electricity sputtered in a metal cubicle across the room.Within that chamber a cylinder blazed into sudden, fiery oblivion.And in that moment—Rodrik of Mish-kin screamed aloud, once and horribly, and dropped dead at Stephen Duane's side!






CHAPTER XII



Alter Ego




Steve's first thought as he stood stock-still and staring with horror fascinated eyes at the crumpled figure beside him was that there had been some terrible mistake.



What he might have said or done is hard to guess.Probably nothing, for one of Duane's virtues was that of knowing when and where to keep his mouth shut.Moreover, any tendency toward speech he might have felt was thwarted when he lifted startled eyes to the Overlord Okuno to find the executioner's intense gaze unmistakably warning him to silence!



So silent he remained while his fellows of the Brotherhood filed from the amphitheatre, and Venusian guards removed the remains of Rodrik of Mish-kin.



It was then that Okuno turned to him and, obviously speaking for the benefit of those Daans who still lingered in the chamber, said, "And now, Brother Steve of Emmeity, we shall go to my privy chamber, where I shall justly reward your valor in apprehending this traitor.Come!"



But in Okuno's private room, with the door closed and locked behind them, Steve turned to the Overlord questioningly.



"And now, Okuno, what—?"



But the strangest sight of all climaxed the whole mad episode.For the purple-gowned Okuno, haughty Overlord of Daan, Chief Executor of the invading master race, had slipped to his knees—and was bowing before Steve in humble supplication.



"Thy forgiveness, O my Lord!"he prayed, "if for a moment I caused thee trepidation or alarm.It was the only means whereby I could beguile the cunning Rodrik into silence until his lips could be sealed forever."



Steve gasped, "Then those were the preparations you made! You substituted his brain-pattern cylinder for mine?"



"Even so, O mighty Slumberer."



"And—" It was all beginning to make sense now—"though a Daan, you are on our side?"



Okuno's head lifted proudly."At thy side, aye, Master!And a humble follower of the Slumberers.But no Daan am I.I am an earthman, even as thyself."



"You are—what!"Steve stared at the man in stunned bewilderment.Then, impatiently, "Get up, man!We are humans together.No earthman needs bow before another.Get up and tell me what this is all about!"






So Okuno spoke, and what he told Steve was the most heartening news Duane had heard since his wakening in this strange world of slave humans.



"I am an earthman," repeated Okuno proudly."My real name is Wiam.Wiam of Kleevlun.The true Okuno lives no more.He made the error which, praise Jarg, many sons of the marsh planet have made: that of riding alone through human settlements too arrogantly and too often.His last such outing cost him his life.The worms have long since stripped his carcass.But this the Daans know not.For an Okuno set forth upon a journey, and an Okuno returned.Nor does any Venusian suspect I am not the true Okuno."



"But," stammered Stephen Duane, "your hair ...your eyes ...the webbings between your fingers...."



"Are all," smiled Okuno, "artificial.I know, O Slumberer, that thou who wakened in a matriarch's camp have cause to believe all humans are crude and uncultured.But, believe me, this is not so.We number amongst us a handful who remember somewhat of the skill and artifice of the Ancient Ones.The art of masquerade we know and practice mightily.



"Rejoice to learn, O Slumberer, that I am not the only earthman who treads the soil of Terra in the guise of a Venusian.Throughout broad Tizathy there are scores, hundreds, like myself.Altered earthmen with bleached hair and chemically treated pupils, artificial webbing secured to their phalanges, who have wormed their way into the confidence of the so-called 'master race,' and but wait for that moment to come when earthmen may strike for their lost liberty.



"Changelings like myself are Daan guards, captains of Daan troops, space navigators, and even as I, Councillors of Daan citadels.It is a vast and secret movement we have prepared for generations, awaiting only—a leader.And now—" The masquerader's pale eyes gleamed with fanatic zeal—"the leaders have come!The legend has been fulfilled, and the Slumberers have awakened!"



Stephen Duane felt a vast resurgence well within him.There had been moments when, despite his own courage and determination, his spirit had shrunk appalled before the magnitude of the task confronting him, so helpless had been those upon whom he had been forced to depend for aid, so engulfed in barbarism and superstition.But here were men of richer stuff conceived.Men not only of purpose, but of wit and wisdom.Men who had wormed their way into the very heart of the invaders' organization.



"Great guns, Okuno!"he cried excitedly."This is the best news yet!A counteroffensive set up within the Daan organization!More than I dared dream of!"



"We stand ready," said Okuno simply, "to do your bidding.What are your orders, O Duane?"



Stephen Duane said feverishly, "I don't exactly know—yet.We'll have to call a council of war.We have already struck the first blow against the enemy, you know.Three days ago our forces occupied Loovil—"



Okuno lifted a trembling hand.His voice shook.



"Pardon, O Duane.But do you mean to say you have not heard of the retaking of Loovil?"






"Loovil retaken!"choked Steve."You mean—?"



Okuno nodded slowly."Yes, O Slumberer.Before that garrison fell, its commander got off a message to this headquarters.Even as you pursued Rodrik of Mish-kin hither, a punitive expedition flew from Sinnaty to Loovil.Your companions, though they defended the Tucki fortress bravely, were unable to match the superior might of the well-armed Daan fighting craft.Loovil is again a Daan outpost."



Steve Duane licked suddenly parched lips."And—" he faltered—"and those who defended the garrison?They were—destroyed?"



Okuno nodded somberly."Many were slain in the battle.Those who died so, swiftly and nobly, were fortunate.To the others has been meted a punishment more dreadful than clean and sudden death.By rockets they have been transferred to the planet of Daan, there to waste away the wretched remaining hours of their lives slaving in the Venusian swamps."






It was revelatory, though at the time it did not occur to Duane, that his first tense query should have coupled with the name of a friend held dear for years than of a maid he had known scarce a fortnight.



Eyes clouded with anxiety, he gripped Okuno's arm in fingers of steel.



"The priestess Beth?"he cried."And my fellow Slumberer, the one known as Chuck?Where are they?Were they among those—?"



He dared not say the word, dared not think of Lafferty's laughing vigor stilled by the Daan's ray-weapons, nor the dust-gold vibrancy of Beth charred and blackened by that weapon's spiteful flame.



But Okuno said, "Let us see," and moved to a cabinet upon one wall of his private chamber, drew therefrom a list of the exiled earthlings."These are they," he told Steve, "who survived the battle and have been exiled to Daan.You will find here—"



Steve had already snatched the sheets, was scanning them eagerly.The listing of those slaughtered was like a series of sword thrusts in his heart.Brave Jain had fallen, and Mairlee, Mother of the Lextun Clan; Ralf, chieftain of a tribe of Wild Ones from Clina territory, and Alis, his newfound mate; hosts of others had died defending the all too briefly held salient.



But on another list, naming those who had survived the conflict only to be transported to Earth's evil sister planet, he found those names for which he sought most eagerly.Those of Beth and the Mother Maatha and a male who designated himself as "Shuk of Bruklin."



On still a third sheet, Steve found a name which brought a snarl of anger to his lips.That name was Ay-rik.To it was appended a strange curlique unfamiliar to Steve.Guessing at its meaning, a sudden fear wakened within him.He turned to his friend.



"This Ay-rik—-what means that symbol after his name?"



Okuno glanced and shrugged."That means he was wounded but will survive.But what troubles you, my Lord?"






"Plenty!"gritted Steve."It's bad enough we've lost Loovil; that some of my friends are dead and others captive.But this—" He tapped the sheet—"Eric von Rath being alive is the worst thing which could have happened to us.He is that Slumberer whom the legends tell is evil from the core.He betrayed me once, and will do it again if he gets the chance.So long as he lives neither you nor I nor any of our comrades is safe, Okuno."



The masquerader stared at him haggardly. "I see what you mean, O Duane. Let him but report that you are one of the Slumberers and then not only will you be apprehended, but investigation will disclose that I aided you by exchanging the cylinders—"



"—and there," ground Steve curtly, "goes our whole plan before it gets well under way.Okuno, there is only one thing to do.I must somehow get to Venus."



Okuno nodded slowly."Yes, that is so.Much more can you do there than here.Not only can you liberate our fellows in exile, and silence the tongue of this treacherous Ay-rik, but there you can perchance accomplish that which is vitally essential if ever earthmen are to reestablish control of their own planet."



"And that is—?"demanded Steve.



"Find a way," Okuno told him, "of immobilizing the Daan spacefleet.Time and again have there been opportunities for our organization to strike a blow at the Overlords' mastery ...and this was even before we could count on the assistance of the Women and Wild Ones you have converted to our cause.But never have we dared take that last important step, for we have realized that whatever small successes might crown our uprising at the beginning would be nullified as soon as the Daans' mighty armada of space-vessels could hurtle the distance between their planet and ours.



"They garrison here but a scattered handful of spacecraft.These it is well within our power to capture and subdue, the more so because there is not one of these vessels but numbers amongst its crew masqueraders like myself.



"But on Daan is cradled the full majesty of the Venusian space-navy.Somehow this fleet must be crippled, so it cannot be turned against us until we have time to consolidate our positions.This, O Slumberer, is the major important task you can accomplish for us on Daan.You have powers greater than those allotted humble, commonplace mortals, O Duane.Can your powers encompass this deed?"



Steve said grimly, "I don't know, Okuno.But this much is certain: I must go to Daan, and while there, do what I can.Meanwhile, can it be arranged for me to visit the other planet?"



"Can and will, O Wise One.A ship leaves Sinnaty on the morrow for Daan.Tonight, our craftsmen will perform upon you the artistry which altered my lineaments.Meanwhile, false credentials will be forged.You will go to Daan as the noble Captain Huumo, secure beneath the seal and sanctuary of a Council messenger."



"Huumo?"frowned Steve."But is there now a Daan captain named Huumo?Won't he—?"



Okuno smiled grimly. "When you leave in the morning," he promised, "there will have been another Huumo."



"And when I get to Daan—?"



"Then," said Okuno simply, "may the gods of 'Kota guide you.You must act for yourself, and upon your deeds may rest the hopes of a thousand generations.But fear not.Even on Daan you will find allies in the highest and most unexpected places.



"Mark well this interchange, O Slumberer.Should one say to you, 'Have you kinsmen on distant Terra?', answer that questioner, 'Aye, I have many brothers.'And if he then says, 'The brave never lack for brethren', you will know you have found a friend and ally.And now—" Okuno bestirred himself brusquely—"already have we lingered too long together in this room.Let us separate and meet again in the dark hours of night, that the change may be wrought in you."



He spoke no more.






So they parted to meet again when midnight darkened the corridors of Nedlunplaza.And this time Steve, stripped to the buff, placed himself at the disposition of those disguise artists who had altered Okuno and others.



They worked swiftly and effectively.A chemical rinse bleached his tawny hair to Venusian silver.Brief exposure to the radiance of a floodlamp dulled the healthy color of his flesh, paling it to the more sallow hue of the Daans.Then swift technicians went to work on his hands and feet and face.With a gummy, flesh-colored plastic they lengthened the membranes between his digits, simulating the vestigial webbing of the squamous Venusians.With paddings here, and subcutaneous injections of a waxy substance elsewhere, the make-up artists subtly changed Steve's features until, staring at himself in a mirror, he could scarcely recognize his own face beneath the mask which had been superimposed upon it.



Okuno smiled his satisfaction when the job was done.



"You look more like Huumo than did Huumo himself. It will do, O Duane. Only a mother or sweetheart would recognize you beneath that mask. Here are Huumo's trappings and credentials. Henceforth, they are yours, and you are Huumo. Rest, now, a short while. For when the eastern sky lights, it will be time to board the Oalumuo."






CHAPTER XIII



Spaceflight




So came at last the dawn, and with its coming Okuno and Steve Duane set forth upon the last stage of the adventure which they shared together: the short journey to the spaceport.



It lay not far from the tower of Nedlunplaza—but a few minutes' trip in the speedy monocyclular motor the Daans used as a ground vehicle—on a promontory north and east of town which, in the day whence Stephen Duane had come, had been known as Observatory Hill.



If there was any time at which Duane had doubts as to the ultimate success of his dreams, it was at that moment when first he looked upon the Daan spaceport and the gigantic metal monster cradled thereupon.



He had overestimated the courage of his own allies in this endeavor.He knew their daring and determination; knew they could be depended upon to fight the foe so long as one drop of blood remained in their veins.But now a new doubt assailed him.Perhaps he had underestimated the enemy!



It had been easy to acknowledge the scientific skill of the Daans, looking upon their plastic bridges, their single-wheeled vehicles.Yet these were feats which humans of Duane's own era might have accomplished.But this great rocketship, a towering teardrop braced in its launching tripod, tremendous jet-tubes pointed for the thrust against the bosom of earth, prow lifted proudly toward the heavens over which it was master, was at once a staggering and a humbling sight.



For this was something men had dreamed of, worked for, planned to some day build, but had found beyond their ability. Perhaps von Rath had been right. Perhaps the Venusians were a master race, rightfully Overlords of Earth. For surely....



Then he thought again of the city of Sinnaty, its squalid streets, its mud-encrusted hovels, and a repulsion shook him.No, culture was not a matter of superior science alone.Other things entered into it.A truly great race displayed sociological wisdom as well; knew that civilizations are built not only on guns and swords, rockets and machines, instruments of destruction and impregnable bastions, but on the right of every slightest soul to live cleanly, warmly, comfortably, and happily at peace with his neighbors.



The science of the Daans was great, true; but it was cold and harsh, brutal.It was science for science's sake, not science harnessed for the greater welfare of living beings.This was the Daan's false ideology.There could be no peace between Venusians and earthmen until for this credo was substituted the ancient democratic principles of liberty, equality, fraternity.



Thus Stephen Duane's thoughts as he approached the huge Oalumuo






The spaceport was a beehive of activity.Hordes of human slaves were completing an all-night labor of loading the rocketship's cargo bins with Earth wares for the Venusian marts.Over these sweating humans, Daan guards cracked whips and snarled commands.Venusian officials scurried to and fro, concluding last minute preparations for the flight.



Okuno accompanied Steve to the automatic lift which bore passengers to an air-lock some sixty feet above the surface of the ground, there halted and touched the younger man's breast with his open palm in the Daan equivalent of a handshake.



"Now farewell, O Eternal One," he whispered quietly, "May the Holy Four guide and protect thy efforts.You know what must be done."



Steve nodded."I know.I also know how to get in touch with you.You'll await word from me on the ultra-wave?"



"Day and night," promised Okuno."The movement you so gloriously started will not die a-borning.I shall see that the Revelation is spread throughout the human territories, that gathering-places are fixed in a hundred strategic spots where Women and Wild Ones may pledge allegiance to the new order.I shall give them every assistance within my power, waiting and praying for your order to strike."



"Good!"said Steve."And when and if we succeed in immobilizing the spacefleet on Daan, that word will flash to you.Now—" He changed his tone abruptly—"I hear and obey, O Master.The message shall be transmitted promptly."



For a uniformed Daan had approached them and was beckoning Steve to the lift.Okuno nodded."Very good.Farewell, Captain Huumo.A safe and pleasant journey."



"Captain Huumo" saluted smartly, then ascended the lift to disappear into the ship.



He had thought he was the last passenger to board the Oalumuo, but just as he entered the air-lock there was a flurry of excitement on the field below.A cavalcade of monocycles, with sirens wailing stridently, came roaring across the drome.Bells clanged throughout the ship, and over its intercommunicating audio system rasped hasty commands.



"Stand by for a passenger!Locks open!Stand by!"



Space sailors scurried and grunted.There sounded the whine of the rising lift, the asthmatic wheeze of a reopening air-lock.Then the belated passenger stepped into the spaceship, and....



Alternate waves of heat and cold swept over Stephen Duane.For he was staring squarely into the eyes of the Lady Loala—and in her answering gaze was startled recognition!






It was fortunate for Stephen Duane that the take-off of the transport had been delayed, for Loala made no effort to repress her exclamation of astonishment.



"Steve of Emmeity!" she gasped. "What are you—?"



But her question was drowned in the sudden clamor of signals, a metallic voice calling over the audio system, "All hands to posts!Prepare to lift gravs!Clear ship for lift!"



And an officer came bustling to the duo.



"Pardon, my Lady.Pardon, my Lord.If you will come this way, please—"



And as he swept the pair before him to the hydraulic hammocks wherein passengers must recline during the initial shock of acceleration, Steve seized the opportunity to whisper to the Lady Loala, "Silence, O Mistress of Delight, I beseech thee.I am on a dangerous mission.My true identity must not be revealed."



And though the silver-haired daughter of Venus frowned, her eyes fraught with question, she said nothing more. So the two took the hammocks assigned them, strapped themselves securely therein, and a few minutes later, with an ear-splitting roar and a rushing violence which for an instant seemed to halt the very pounding of blood in their veins, the mighty jet-tubes of the Oalumuo exploded, catapulting their vessel outward from Earth into space.



But not for long could the curiosity of the Overlord be denied.Later, released from their hammocks, with the vessel hurtling the dark vaults of the void at a speed increasing toward the acceleration of 200,000 m.p.h.Duane later learned to be the craft's maximum velocity, the voluptuous Lady Loala turned to Steve imperiously.






"Come, Captain Huumo," she said, addressing him by the title a space sailor had used when releasing him from his hammock."Follow me to my quarters.I would learn more of this 'mission' which carries you to Daan."



And when they had reached the suite of rooms reserved for her use, and had closed the doors behind them: "Well?" she demanded. "What means this, Steve of Emmeity? A secret mission? And on whose behalf, pray? Was it not I who but recently assigned you to a mission of utmost importance?"



"It was, O my Lady," acknowledged Steve."But that errand has already been concluded; this new duty springs from its accomplishment.On it I am sent by your companion in Council, the Overlord Okuno."



"The Chief Executioner? But why should he—Aaah!" Loala's gray-green eyes widened slightly. "Then it was you whose information warned us of the rebel uprising at Loovil, and enabled our forces to quell it? Well done, brave Steve of Emmeity! But still I do not understand. Why did you not report this directly to me?"



"Because," explained Steve, "upon my return to Sinnaty I was seized by guards and taken before the Chief Executioner.When I told Okuno of the dreadful secret I had learned at Loovil, he commissioned me to proceed immediately to Daan, that I might point out amongst the group recently exiled—"



"The Slumberers!" Excitement brightened Loala's eyes. "Now I understand! Then what we heard rumored was true? The Slumberers were amongst those captured at Loovil, and exiled to Daan? And you, O Steve, you can identify them?"



"I can," declared Steve boldly.Then, in a softer voice, "I can and will, O loveliest daughter of Daan."



And again, as before, Loala proved herself mistress of all things save her own truly feminine emotions.At the tone of his voice, her features softened.Her eyes met his approvingly, and she whispered, "You have done well, Steve of Emmeity.I think the time is not far off when you shall have won that which you claim to desire.Do you—" There was a calculated allure in her sidelong glance—"Do you still find the prize worth striving for?"



"More so than ever, O Mistress of every delight," avowed Steve ardently ...and moved a step nearer her."Must I continue to prove myself?Surely by now I have earned—"



It was a bold gambit he offered, one which might have boomeranged against his plans.But he was gambling on the inherent coquetry of the woman Loala.His psychology was good, for, as he had expected, she withdrew before him, and her lips lifted in a smile of light amusement.



"Not so quickly, O most presuming human," she laughed archly."There is still your important mission to be accomplished.After that, well—then perhaps we shall see...."






To say that the following ten days, during which the spacecruiser Oalumuo blazed its way across thirty-odd million miles of trackless ether, were uneventful would be but to demonstrate the relativity of all things.



To the Venusian space-navigators the trip was, perhaps, one of little moment.It passed smoothly, serenely, and without untoward incident.To the passengers who spent their waking hours dining and gaming, the trip may have been unexciting.To the workmen who performed mysterious functions deep within the bowels of the ship the trip may have seemed but hours of drudgery.But to Stephen Duane the trip was ten days of nerve-tingling adventure.Excitement stirring every sense, emotion and brain-fibre.



First, there was that never-to-be-forgotten moment when, led to the Observatory Deck by a junior officer eager to win a good place in the graces of the mock Daan "nobleman," Steve looked out upon that which every imaginative human has dreamed of some day beholding: the starry firmament of space as viewed from the void itself.



Stephen Duane was stricken speechless by the majesty of this sight.Here was no scattered handful of stars sprinkling the black emptiness like a sparse shaking of mica upon velvet.Here was a glorious backdrop of color, radiant, pulsating, gleaming with hues which shamed the efforts of the most daring rainbow.Clear of the encumbrance of Earth's blanketing atmosphere, the stars became tremendous globes burning hotly, fiercely, in the celestial vault.Flanking them on every side, forming a webwork so closely woven as to stagger the mind with its intricateness, were millions ...billions ...of myriad flaming companions.



Behind the Oalumuo lay the blue-green orb of Earth, studded with the whirling coronet of its tiny lunar companion. Before, looming larger with each passing hour of flight, was the gleaming-white birthplace of the races of Daans. Elsewhere circling the solar giant which dominated the segment of space could be seen, methodically plodding their ordained courses, the other planets of Sol's family. Red Mars and mighty Jupiter ... ringed Saturn and far, frozen Uranus.






It was a sight to humble the proudest human.Seeing it, tiring never of its ever-changing splendor, Steve Duane renewed to himself his vow that he would do everything within his power to reclaim for an enslaved humanity the right to share in the glories of this celestial empire.



But he saw not only beauty on the trip. He studied other things more practical, as well. Under the guidance of young Thaamo, his space-mariner friend, he spent long days in traversing the Oalumuo from stem to stern, from control-room to jet-chambers.



Much of what he saw upon these visits he did not completely understand.That was only natural.Not in a day nor a decade had the Daans solved the secret of space-travel.It lay within the power of no single brain to instantaneously comprehend mechanisms which had taken a hundred brains to invent, a thousand hands to build.



But Stephen Duane was, or had been, a scientist—and a brilliant one.He had that type of mind which, though it necessarily ignored details at the moment unsolveable, grasped prime essentials swiftly and surely.



On the more important points Steve centered his attention.He learned that the motors propelling the ship were atomic motors, and by deft questioning learned how that long-sought power had been harnessed by the Venusians.He studied the controls so carefully that in an emergency he might have taken his seat at the pilot's studs ...mentally blueprinted the general layout of the craft so that in days to come he might know in rude outline the sort of ship earthmen must build were they to go space-vagabonding.







  
  

    
Steve studied the controls carefully.

  








He learned where the fuel was stored, and where were kept food and water supplies.He was shown—and memorized—the location of the air-conditioning system through whose viaducts re-freshened, re-oxygenated atmosphere was pumped to each nook and cranny of the ship.And though the armaments of the vessel were a military secret that might not be entrusted to even a traveling dignitary, he learned the locations of the principle ray-guns, and knew the points on a Venusian man-o'-war over which one must achieve mastery in order to seize that vessel.



Thus, though others may have been bored by the trip, to Steve Duane the ten days whisked by like dry leaves fleeing before an autumn gale.And finally the journey came to an end.



On the morning of the eleventh day, when he awakened to peer through his porthole, he discovered the now-familiar spangled firmament was blotted out by a mist of writhing gray. Fog banks, impenetrably thick, engulfed the craft like a veil. The clear, sharp brilliance of open ether was left behind, and the Oalumuo was settling through miles of turgid white to its destination.



And when the gray evaporated, Steve looked down upon the landscape of Earth's humid, solar sister ...the planet Daan.






CHAPTER XIV



Between Two Camps




It was with swiftly beating heart that Stephen Duane stepped from the Oalumuo's lift to the soil of the Overlords' planet. Staring about him with eyes which, despite his every effort, he could not keep from widening, he experienced again that sense of reluctant admiration for the scientific ability of those who had made themselves mankind's masters.



The spaceport outside Sinnaty had been marvel enough to earthly eyes, but it paled into insignificance before the spectacle which now presented itself. Here was no rude plain crudely hacked from a tangle of wilderness. The Oalumuo came to rest in but one of a hundred gigantic spacevessel cradles ranged with mathematical precision upon a tremendous, smoothly paved court studded with workshops, hangars, warehouses, machine-shops, technical offices ... all the appurtenances and paraphernalia of a highly organized, perfectly integrated civilization.



Curiously enough, the dense cloud-banks through which the Oalumuo had plunged to its landing did not enswaddle this scene, nor conceal the colorfully magnificent skyline of the metropolis which surrounded the spaceport like a heaven-spanning rampart.  Or perhaps that was not so curious as logical.  For surely—Duane's swift reason told him—any race which could create such wonders as these had also long since learned how to harness and subdue the meteorological disadvantages of its native world. Plainly this island of freedom from the all-pervading Venusian fog was an artificial one.



So lost was he in wonderment and speculation that it was not until a hand touched his shoulder that he realized he was being addressed for possibly the second or third time by the young space-officer who had been his guide and companion throughout the journey.



He spun, startled."Oh, I—I beg your pardon, Thaamo.I was lost in dreaming.I did not realize—"



The friendly officer smiled.



"It is good to be home again, is it not, Captain Huumo?Fair Daan is a delight to the eyes after lonely years of service on our colony.Ah, well—it has been a pleasant enough journey.What are your plans now, my Captain?You will report to the Supreme Council, no doubt?"



On this point Okuno's instructions had been clear.



Duane nodded."Yes."



"Of course.Then you will be traveling by aereo to the palace.You had best make haste, Captain Huumo, ere the last flight leaves without you."



The season was warm, the air dusty-dry, but there was suddenly upon Stephen Duane's forehead a cold, dank perspiration.For, standing there with the gaze of his acquaintance upon him, he realized in that instant that there was too much he still did not know about the customs and the culture of the Daans.



He knew neither where the palace lay, nor what this "aereo" was by which he might reach it, nor even in which direction he should now turn with assured movement to dispel the half-suspicious curiosity of his mariner friend.



But at that moment relief came from an unexpected quarter.There sounded beside him a light tinkle of laughter and his eyes lifted to meet the taunting, gray-green eyes of the Lady Loala.



"Hasten him not, Aarkan Thaamo. Captain Huumo waits for me. But I am ready now. Come, Captain—" She rested a pale hand lightly upon his arm—"let us go." And gratefully Steve Duane allowed himself to be led away.






But a few moments later, in the seclusion of the Lady Loala's tiny, individual aereo, a small craft which Duane discovered to be somewhat similar to the two-passenger planes of his own century save that it traveled silently and effortlessly on an atomic power-beam transmitted from central control stations, rather than by any independent motor of its own, the argent Overlord mocked Steve for his recent awkward moment.



"You are a poor dissembler, Steve of Emmeity.Happy for you that you masquerade only to deceive your Earth brethren, and not the Daans.Methinks your play-acting would come to a swift end if we were those upon whom you attempted to spy, rather than the stupider humans."



Steve grinned, not half so ruefully as the Lady Loala believed, and conceded, "You are right, my princess. Deceit rests poorly upon my features, even though those features have been altered to make me resemble one of your own race.



"I am afraid the Lord Okuno's efforts to make me look like a true Daan were not altogether successful. The episode with Thaamo was not the first time I have come near betraying my real identity. And as for you—you penetrated my disguise the moment you laid eyes upon me."



Loala said softly, "Who should know thee better than I, Steve of Emmeity?True, I recognized you immediately.But perhaps my eyes knew you less swiftly than my heart.



"You see, human, you please me greatly.Yes, frankly, I admit it; even I, Loala, Overlord of Sinnaty, confess I find you—interesting.



"But be of good heart. Here on Daan no other will recognize you, nor none suspect you an earthling, as none aboard the Oalumuo questioned your race. And your secret is safe with me. Though I do not understand why Okuno found it necessary to disguise you as a Daan when he sent you on this mission."



"It was done," explained Steve hastily, "not to deceive the Daans, but the men and women of Earth amongst whom I must move and mingle freely.Were they to realize I were one of their own kind, Okuno said, they would destroy me before ever I found a chance to identify and point out the wakened Slumberers."



"I see," nodded Loala. "Well, Okuno is a wise Councillor. In his judgment I place implicit faith. Still—" Her eyes met Steve's archly—"it strikes me you have taken too seriously this mission of yours. Those were long, lazy hours aboard the Oalumuo, my Steve.Hours we might have spent pleasantly together."



And Steve said staunchly, "There is nothing under sun and stars I should have liked better, O Vision of Loveliness.But—"



"But—?"prompted the Lady Loala.



"But the Lord Okuno has promised that if I perform this mission faithfully and well there may await me even a greater prize than that of mere acceptance into the Brotherhood.To a chosen few, he told me, is granted the privilege of full Daan citizenship, complete membership in the master race.This, O Wakener of Dreams, is my hope and my ambition.To win that coveted honor, so I may not only become your Earthly consort, but aspire to the position of your true Daan mate—"



Steve's eyes met those of the Venusian woman boldly.And this time it was her pale cheeks into which crept the faintest suspicion of color as she dropped her eyes, murmuring, "I—I fear you presume too much, Steve of Emmeity."



But the Lady Loala was not displeased.Nor did she, Steve guessed shrewdly, represent in any way an obstacle to his future plans.Loala would not betray him.Any lurking doubts which might have lingered in her bosom had been swept away by the tide of her own desires.






Thus, his true identity a secret known only to one Daan, and she one who would not reveal it, the major hurdle of Stephen Duane's great impersonation was overcome.



The Daan's Supreme Council accepted himself and his credentials for what they purported to be, strove to discern no human lineaments beneath his cleverly wrought mask, and freely granted that privilege for which Duane pleaded: the right of visiting the marshland slave camp wherein labored earthmen and women transported hither from Earth.



Standing before the Council, Steve experienced his first disappointment in the Daans.Under the circumstances, "disappointment" was perhaps a curious word to use, even to himself.Yet it was the only one to describe his feelings.Up to this time he had felt bitterness toward the Venusians for what they had done to Earth, had hated certain members of the master race for the brutal way they had treated their human slaves; but despite these personal animosities he had been forced to concede an intellectual approval of their skill, their culture, and above all, their superb scientific accomplishments.



Yet now he found himself standing not in such a trim, functional chamber as had been the council hall of Nedlunplaza.The palace of the Supreme Council on Daan was a sybaritic pleasure-dome which on Earth had had its counterpart centuries before Stephen Duane first drew breath.



It was in such a court as this the effete emperors of imperial France had dallied with glamorous mistresses while starving subjects fell plague-ridden in the gutters.Surrounded by such pleasures had the last Roman tyrants squandered their heritage in riotous abandon.Here was such opulence as had rotted the heart of Saladan's kingdom, Priam's, Cleopatra's, and the sea-girdling empire of Phillip.



Duane needed no textbook to tell him the history of the Daans.He knew what had happened; the evidence lay before his eyes.



The Venusians had been a mighty race. Only a strong and stout-hearted people could have raised from the morass of this eternally fog-veiled planet such cities and such sciences. Only daring and stalwart people could have accomplished those wonders the Daans accepted as commonplaces. Labor had played its part in this rise to superiority; labor of back and brain. Sweat of muscle and furrow of brow had created an empire. But now those who had striven so mightily were gone, leaving behind a languorous and unappreciative race to despoil the glories their forefathers had so magnificently wrought.



The present Daan empire was a spoiled, stagnant civilization.It dwelt amidst splendors created for it by vanished generations, reveled greedily amongst luxuries earned by the sweat of predecessor's brows.That was why slave labor was imported from Earth; to lift the burden of honest toil from hands become too proud and soft to fend for themselves.



Those Daans who maintained the scattered outposts on Earth were perhaps the last atavistic remnants of a once-great race.They, at least, could and did work for themselves; had the strength and the courage to wage incessant conflict for possession of a territory precious to the mother land.



But these members of the Supreme Council, languid, lolling, grimacing creatures who spoke in accents of exaggerated boredom, nibbled at wines and sweetmeats as they talked, pausing from time to time to fondle diaphanously-veiled females of their harem corps, were no opponents to be feared.They were, rather—Steve's eyes narrowed minutely and his jaw set—wastrels to be outwitted and overthrown.






Now one of the Council was speaking to him, his voice a shrill simper of amusement.



"To the swamps, Captain Huumo?Of course you have our permission—if you really feel you must.But why any Daan noble would choose to go there and in this season—!Why do you wish to go?"



Steve's answer was half truthful."Because it is said, my Lord, that at the recent battle of Loovil were taken into custody certain humans who call themselves the 'Slumberers.'The Chief Executioner, Okuno, sent me hither to find these three and return them to Earth for judgment."



"Slumberers?"drawled his questioner."But surely that ancient myth has been exploded by now, Captain?It is written in the Archives that when our ancestors took Earth centuries ago its people worshipped these fabulous creatures.Have they not learned by now—?"



The Lady Loala interrupted, sharply, impatiently.Glancing at her in surprise, Steve could not help but feel that she, too, had found cause for disappointment in the namby-pamby behavior of her superiors.



"Pardon, O Masters," she said, "but the Captain Huumo speaks truth. We who have lately served, fighting and working—" she stressed the verbs with delicate irony that escaped all save Steve—"on Earth are conscious of a new spirit of rebellion amongst that planet's people.A rebirth of the independence which made them bitter foes centuries ago.



"Our spies inform us that word spreads like wildfire amongst the humans that the Slumberers have awakened, and the hour to strike for human liberation is nigh.If this be true, there may again be bloody warfare on our colony."



"But our fleet, my Lady—" offered one of the Masters—"it is swift and powerful—"



"That I know," said the Lady Loala grimly, "and this I also know—that had Daan not an armada of fighting vessels as an ever-ready threat to hurl against Earth's children, by their vigor and strength, by their renascent determination for freedom they might tomorrow break the bonds of servitude in which we hold them. You may thank the waters whence our ancestors sprang, O my Lords, that we have this mighty fleet at our command."



"We are duly grateful, Lady Loala," yawned the first Councillor impatiently. "But since we have this bulwark, there is no reason to become apprehensive. Was it thus to warn us and spoil our pleasure that you journeyed hither from Earth?"



The Lady Loala shrugged and abandoned the futile attempt to make her Masters understand."It was, my Lord.But I see now my mission has been vain.Therefore, with your permission I shall withdraw and arrange to return to my post with the first outgoing transport."



"Very well.But wait!Did you not say it was within your territory the Slumberers are reputed to have awakened?"



"Aye, my Lord."



"Then since the first transport is not scheduled to leave for several days, would it not be well for you to accompany the Captain Huumo on his search for these—fabulous creatures?"



There was a mocking lilt to the Councillor's voice.Even Stephen Duane, who was not familiar with Daan traits and trends, read the meaning behind his words.Reminder of the responsibilities habitually shirked had wakened the Council's spite.None too subtly the Lady Loala was being punished for the temerarious violation of their languor, in thus being sent to the equatorial swamplands.



But if Loala recognized this sentence as punishment she showed it neither by word nor expression.Instead, with almost eager alacrity she said, "Very well, my Lord.Your wish is my command.It shall be as you say."



Thus Stephen Duane found himself burdened with the one companion of all Daandom whom he wanted least to take with him on his journey.






CHAPTER XV



Swamp Gold




As on the following day he and the Lady Loala neared their destination by private aereo, Steve Duane came to the conclusion that not without reason had the Daan Supreme Councillor spoken distastefully of the summer climate in this section of the planet.



Nothing in Duane's experience had prepared him for such devastating heat as that which waxed stronger and more devouring as they approached their goal.Earth of Duane's day had known its uncomfortable spots ...the Mohave, the Sahara, the pouring-room of a steel mill, a New York night club in midsummer ...but nowhere had heat ever been so constant, so unavoidable, so overwhelmingly depressing as here in the equatorial regions of Daan.



For one thing, the planet was some twenty-five millions of miles nearer the sun than was Earth.For another, it was enveloped in a swaddling cloak of moisture-laden atmosphere.The third and culminating blow was the terrain over which they flew: a vast and squamous marshland, jungle-thick, steamy and frothy with the scums and scents of myriad forms of torrid, aqueous life.



This combination of sights and smells and stifling heat not only weakened but sickened Steve Duane.The Lady Loala did not seem to share his discomfort completely.Apparently the pores of her dead-white skin were better adapted to this climate than were those of the Earth man.But even she was far from comfortable.



Traveling over this terrain was like tunneling in a closed sled through rifts of downy cotton, so constantly was their ship engulfed in solid layers of fog.Only at brief intervals and for briefer flashes did the interminable mist clear long enough to reveal below them the sprawling green tracery of jungle, or a black and sluggish river winding its sultry way through a half-drowned plain.



And, traveling thus, Duane realized that the beam transmission method of Daan aircraft was not only a great accomplishment but, indeed, the only possible means of flight over a planet so humid as Daan.Only about cities and major outposts did atmosphere-clearing units offer flyers somewhat better than 0-0 visibility.Elsewhere, were it not for the narrow transmission of the atomic power setup, aereo drivers would have been forced to fly by dead reckoning at all times.



Now, however, their craft was approaching one of these cleared patches of atmosphere.The cottony blanket about them was thinning into tufted clots.And Loala, glancing at the instrument panel before her, nodded to Steve.



"This is the slave camp, Steve of Emmeity."



And deftly she guided the little ship to rest on a field which appeared beneath them.






They were greeted upon landing by one who identified himself as the Chief Warden of this slave camp.He was a hulking, truculent brute, more goggling of eye, more prognathous of jaw than most of the Daans.He descended upon them with belligerent alacrity, growling curt queries.But upon learning his visitors were an Overlord and a noble of high rank, his attitude underwent a swift, chameleon-like change.At once he was bowing and scraping, obsequiously servile.



"Yes, my Lady!Yes, my Lord!"he answered their queries."The new prisoners are quartered here.Of a certainty you may interview them.I will have you shown to their pens immediately.Amarro!Hither quickly, lazy one, and guide our guests to the sties of the Earthborn scum!"



The lieutenant who answered his summons was scarcely less prepossessing of appearance; but Stephen Duane paid him the mental compliment of acknowledging that here was one Daan, at least, with a few vestiges of dignity and compassion.



He frowned at his commander, reminded gently, "But Grudo, they are asleep.It is their hour of rest.They have but returned from long hours of back-breaking toil in the swamps—"



"Silence, weakling!"bellowed Grudo irately."There is no rest for slaves unto the grave.Convey our visitors where they would go instantly!"



And to Loala and Steve as the abashed Amarro shrugged and silently led the way, "This is what comes," he grumbled, "of allowing Daan warriors to visit that accursed colony, Earth.Before Amarro vacationed there, he was the best hand with the lash of all my guards; since his return he coddles our prisoners like house-pets.You will forgive me if I do not accompany you?I must go now and make preparations that you may eat, drink, and be entertained when you have finished your task.May Daan live forever!"



"May Daan live forever!"repeated Steve and Loala ritually, and followed their guide to the pens wherein were herded the Earthborn prisoners.



It were folly to attempt to describe the revolting squalor of the prisoners' barracks.Grudo had not chosen wrongly when he called their quarters "sties."If anything, the word over-glamorized the conditions under which the slaves were kept.



After threading his way through an intricate series of barricades and across an open area through which even Amarro walked gingerly, explaining as he did so that this entire field was groundmined with atomic bombs against the possibility of a single prisoner's escaping, Steve's heart sickened within him to look at last upon the filthy pens into which were huddled a thousand emprisoned Earth cattle, including those who had so recently and gallantly fought beside him at the taking of Loovil.



The miasmic odors emanating from the swamps were but part of the appalling stench which rose to offend his nostrils.Odors of death and decay, sickness and filth, stagnant waters alive with squirming life, rotten food ...these were the conditions under which the effete Daans maintained their "mastery" over once free earthmen.



Yet what men must endure they somehow can. And even in this scene of degradation, somehow the exhausted prisoners contrived to sleep—until Amarro issued the order which brought the entire camp to its feet as a brazen klaxon clamored its strident signal over the barracks.



Then haggard humans, trained by lash and rack to obey the summons of that signal, came straggling from their quarters to stare in dumb bewilderment at their gaudily-raimented visitors.And it was then Amarro turned to Stephen Duane.






Perhaps it was only imagination on Duane's part, but for an instant he thought he detected in the guard's eyes a sullen glitter of disdain as Amarro muttered, "Here are those you seek, noble Lord.Fear them not.They are too weak and weary to resent your questioning."



And the Lady Loala glanced at Steve.



"Do you see them, Steve of Emmeity?See you the trio you came to identify?Those known as the Slumberers?"



Steve did not hurry his answer.He had already seen and grievously recognized many of those he loved.Beth ...and the Mother Maatha.Chuck Lafferty who, even in befouled exhaustion, managed to maintain a shadow of his erstwhile proud defiance.The Wild Ones' leader, Jon.Lina, warrior captain of a Tensee Clan.



But there was one whose sight evaded him, and that one, for the nonce at least, perhaps the most important of them all.Steve turned to Amarro, frowning.



"I am not altogether sure.I saw the Slumberers but once, and then for a short time.It is not easy to recognize them under these conditions.But there is one face I have not forgotten.I see it not here now.A human tall as myself ...with close-cropped hair of yellow, pale blue eyes, heavy jaw and thick lips...."



Amarro started. "What, my Lord? Say you that one is a Slumberer? He is not here."



"Not here?"cried Steve in swift alarm."Then where is he?"



"He is back at our headquarters," explained the guard, "undergoing hospitalization.He was wounded when brought from Earth, and could do no work.His mind was affected so he knew not where he was, nor whom.He begins to show signs of recovery now, though—"



A swift pang of fear coursed through Stephen Duane.So far he and his comrades had been fortunate.Von Rath's amnesia was the only reason Chuck still lived and he, Duane, trod the soil of Daan freely.But if von Rath recovered, it would be but a matter of time before....



His voice lifted sharply, excitedly.



"I must see him at once, Amarro.Take us back to headquarters immediately—"



His very excitement was his undoing.For his voice carried clearly across the ground which separated him from his former comrades.At the sound of that voice one slim and dust-gold figure thrust forward suddenly, and a heart-stoppingly familiar voice cried,



"Steve!O Dwain!O Slumberer—thou hast come at last to free us!"



Then everything happened at once.Chuck Lafferty's eyes widened in belated recognition, and he moved in swifter comprehension of the evil Beth had unwittingly done; leaped to the girl's side and clamped a stifling hand over her lips.



But of the mob, only these two identified Duane with gladness or understanding.Through the rest stirred an ominous murmur which heightened instantly to screams of rage and hatred.



A mad voice cried, "Betrayer!", and a hundred throats took up the cry.







  
  

    
A mad voice cried, "Betrayer!"

  








"It is he, Dwain!The Slumberer who betrayed us!"



And with one concerted movement, like the liberation of flood-waters loosed from their dam, the prisoners surged forward, eyes burning, bare hands aquiver with hatred, to seek revenge upon the rescuer they thought a traitor to their cause!






In the immediacy of this peril it was only the swift action of the guard Amarro which saved the two visitors.



Steve Duane was stricken motionless by this catastrophic disruption of his plans.The Lady Loala was too dazed by the accusation against her favorite to defend herself.She whirled to Steve, her gray-green eyes startled.



"What is this, Steve of Emmeity?They call you Slumberer?What means—?"



Steve answered hurriedly, "There—there must be some terrible mistake.I know not what they mean, my Lady.They confuse me with one of their false gods."



But Amarro, after one stunned glance at Steve, had sprung into action.Ray weapons seemed to leap from his harness to his hands, and in a voice of thunder he cried to the advancing throng, "Back, dogs!Back to your kennels and stop baying!That human who takes another step forward—dies!"



And before the swift menace of his gesture the small uprising trembled and fell apart.Already the privations of this camp had taken their toll upon the spirit of the earthlings.Like cowed creatures they quelled before the lone Venusian.Their babble died, and listlessly they permitted themselves to be forced back into the building which housed them.



Amarro turned to Steve with a curiously level gaze that embodied half a question.



"They hate you, Captain Huumo.It is not safe that you remain here.Perhaps we should return to headquarters."



But Steve said, "No.At the last moment I thought I recognized amongst them one of the Slumberers.Saw you that dark-haired earthman in the forefront?The one who silenced the wench who accused me?I would speak to him.Is there some place we could go for—private questioning?"



Deliberately he fingered his ray-gun while voicing the final phrase.For this, he knew, was a familiar method of "private questioning" used by the Daans in this era as it had been used by totalitarian leaders of his own.



And to both Amarro and Loala the query made sense.Loala smiled thinly, and Amarro replied, "There is such a place, my Captain.That small hut over there.But—may I remind your Lordship these slaves are valuable?We destroy them only on major provocation."



"I understand, guard," said Steve haughtily."Now bring me the prisoner.And you, my Lady, there is something in what this guard says.Perhaps it would be safer if you retired."



And Fortune at last was tossing the breaks his way.For the Lady Loala nodded.



"Aye, Captain Huumo, that I shall do.I will await you at headquarters."



And she left.






So, short minutes later, Amarro having brought his prisoner to the shack wherein Duane waited, and having left, securing the door behind him, Steve stood at last face to face again with his friend and companion of a lifetime.



In that glad moment it did not matter that his proud trappings were stainless, while Chuck's reeked from head to foot with the prison's filth.Gleefully Steve rushed to his chum's side, gripped him in a bear hug of brotherly affection.



"Chuck!"he cried, his voice breaking."Chuck, you old son-of-a-gun!I was afraid we'd never meet again.But I made it, pal!I made it!"



And if some of the captives had lost their spirit under Daan treatment, Chuck Lafferty, at least, was made of sterner stuff.For his answer was typical of himself.He answered Steve with a grin sincere if weary.



"Okay," he snorted."Okay, bud.But I'm warning you—if you kiss me you gotta marry me!Now, for God's sake, pal, talk and talk fast.What are you doing here in them duds?And what in the name of creeping pink lizards have they done to your homely puss?You look like something that crawled off an autopsy table!"



"Better that," chuckled Steve, "than somebody who's going to.Don't look now, pal, but I'm a ranking noble of the Daans."



"You're—what?" Chuck's grin faded abruptly. "You mean, Steve, the bunch was right? You have sold us out? Gone over to their side?"



Steve stared at him long and steadily.



"Do you have to ask that, Chuck?"



And Chuck's eyes fell, then raised again slowly.



"No, I don't.I don't even know why the words came out, Steve.But that's what some of them have been saying.Beth and me and the Mother Maatha and maybe a few others, we're just about the only ones left who still believe in you."



Steve said soberly, "Loovil was that bad, Chuck?"






Chuck nodded."It was worse.We were just getting settled when the Daan warship came.We were powerless.I don't think there's one stone left on another in that city.And—you see what's left of our 'tremendous army' of two thousand.



"But—" He shook his head and with that gesture tried to dismiss visions of horror forever indelibly imprinted on his mind—"but there's no use talking about that now.What's next on the program?You're here to free us, ain't you?Have we got a half-way fighting chance to—?"



Steve said hotly, "I'm here not only to free you, but maybe to free all Earth, Chuck!"



And in swift sentences he told his friend all that had transpired since their parting.Of Rodrik's death and the false Lord Okuno.Of his visit to the Supreme Council and the results thereof.



"And so," he concluded, "that gives you some idea of the organization we've formed.One huge enough to reclaim Earth for mankind—if we can find some way of immobilizing the Venusian spacefleet here on Daan until our forces have destroyed the invaders. But—" And he shook his head sadly—"that's the stumbling block, Chuck. I've got to find an answer to it somehow ... but it's a tremendous problem. One hundred war-ships cradled at the spaceport, just waiting the word to go into action ... and we have no arms to throw against them!



"Lord!" he moaned bitterly, "if the legends of the Clans had only been true!  If only we did have that precious secret the Women expected the Slumberers to bring from their tomb!"



"Good goddlemitey!"cried Chuck."I ain't told you?"



"Eh?What's that?Told me what?"



Chuck's eyes were wide.His words tumbled in hectic confusion from his lips.



"What I've learned since I've been here, Steve.Maybe that legend about our bringing earthmen a weapon ain't so cockeyed after all.Do you know the work they set us at here in these swamps?Reclaiming the marshes, destroying the rank vegetation that grows wild here, acres and acres of—"



Steve interrupted softly, "Yes, Chuck.I know.It has been horrible.But we'll try to change all that—"



"Shut up, you fool," howled Chuck."Change it? You're damn right we'll change it. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Them acres upon acres of what the Venusians think is good-for-nothing vegetation ... the stuff we're clearing away ... do you know what is it?"



"Of course not," said Steve impatiently."But—"



"Then I'll tell you," roared Chuck, "if you'll shut that big yap of yours and give me a chance to talk. It's—swamp-musk, Steve! The rarest epiphyte on Earth grows wild here on Daan like daisies. Swamp-musk—the basic ingredient of methioprane!"






CHAPTER XVI



A Friend in Need




For a moment while his blood seemed to halt in his veins, Stephen Duane stared at his friend.Then his heart resumed its interrupted tempo with violent resurgence, and he gripped Chuck's arm fiercely.



"Swamp-musk!"he choked."Chuck—are you sure?"



"Listen," said Lafferty, "I ain't no surer of my own name. These swamps are simply lousy with that stuff. There's so much of it that if it was poison ivy I'd be one big itch on legs!"



"And the Venusians don't know what it is?"



Chuck snorted. "They know what it is. They call it klaar, which is Venusian for 'nuisance weed.' But they don't know what it can do, or why would they have us destroying it as fast as we can clear it out of the bogs?



"Hell, no, Steve! They ain't nobody alive on these two worlds in this century that knows what klaar can do except you and me."



That, knew Stephen Duane, was true.The anesthetic gas, methioprane, had been an invention of his own, one upon which, of all mankind, only he and Chuck had worked.Its secret had slumbered with them in the oblivion of subterranean Fautnox for fifteen centuries.



Now a great hope overwhelmed Duane.For the first time, a blazing shaft of light illuminated the murky fog of doubt through which he had stumbled, groping vainly for some means wherewith to overthrow Earth's rulers.The actual preparation of methioprane from swamp-musk was not a difficult feat of chemistry.It was one so simple, indeed, that a handful of men with but a few primitive pieces of equipment could create vast volumes of the potent gas.All needful now was to find the time, the place, the workers to perform this labor.



To Chuck he blazed, "That settles it!I've got to get you out of this camp!We've got to escape and find a hidden refuge where we can start manufacturing methioprane—and plenty of it.But, where?Where?"He beat his temple angrily with the heel of one fist, as if by so doing he could stimulate the duality of his Earth-Venusian brain to knowledge of some sanctuary.



But it was Lafferty who supplied the answer.



"Escape," he snorted, "your hat!What do we want to escape for?We got a ready-made laboratory all set up for us!"



"What?"



"Sure," explained Chuck."The prison barracks.It's the perfect hideout, Steve.Right under the Daans' noses, where they won't suspect a thing.If we lammed, they'd be out on our trails chasing us with whatever they use for bloodhounds on this stinking planet.



"But the Daans never come into or near our barracks; not even to feed us.We're nothing but swine to them.Our sty ain't fine enough for their lordly feet.They just dump our food at the entrance to the prison area and let us find it or starve.When it's work time, they call us.When it's rest time, they kick us back into our pens and forget about us.



"All we need, Steve, is equipment. That's what you've got to do for us. Keep on playing the part of a Daan nobleman, and somehow find a way to smuggle lab equipment in here. And—" pledged Chuck Lafferty grimly—"I'll supervise the manufacture of enough methioprane to put this whole damn planet to sleep till the crack of doom!"



Duane nodded happily."That's the answer, Chuck.Yes, it's the perfect answer.But—yourselves?Beth, and the Mother Maatha, the others—can you endure this—?"



"Don't worry about us," grated Lafferty."We've been enduring it with nothing to hope for.Now that there's a chance to fight back and do something, we'll be in there pitching."He grinned mirthlessly and paraphrased the staunch declaration of another fighting man in an earlier day."Just give us the equipment, Steve, and we'll finish the job!"






So Duane left his friend.And when they had emerged from the tiny shack in which they had held the conversation which might decide the fate of the two worlds, Lafferty returned to the barracks and Steve called the waiting guard, Amarro, to lead him back to the higher, cleaner terrain whereupon were built the Daan administrative buildings.



Apparently Amarro had not presumed to eavesdrop on the conversation of a Venusian nobleman, but Steve felt he could detect an atmosphere of uncertainty or suspicion emanating from the prison guard.Several times as they wended their way through the treacherous barricades, Amarro seemed on the verge of offering some query.More than once his eyes scrutinized Duane with curious speculation.But Steve silenced all attempts at speech with curt, monosyllabic grunts, and they reached their destination without an accusation having been made or denied.



Loala and the Chief Warden were awaiting his arrival.Apparently they had found subjects of mutual interest, for their heads were close together when Steve entered the administration building.They separated swiftly, and Grudo said in that greasy tone of semi-humility Steve loathed, "Greetings, O most noble Huumo!You have finished your questioning?"



"I have," grunted Steve disgustedly ...and shrugged."I was wrong.The creature is an ignorant earthman, vulgar and loutish as all his race.He is no Slumberer.Methinks there have never been such thing as Slumberers."



Loala studied him from beneath long, veiling lashes.



"You lingered long enough with this 'vulgar lout', my Captain."



Steve snarled, "The man had complaints to make, and I tarried to hear them.To be truthful, some of his grievances seem justified.He complained that the water prisoners are forced to drink is vile and disease-ridden, pointed out that his companions sicken and die like lice."



Grudo laughed coarsely."What matter?When these slaves die there are thousands more on our colony."



"Nevertheless," said Steve, "the human's point was well taken.Sick slaves are valueless.I told the man I would do something to assure them a supply of cleaner water.But—" he added hastily—"I also told him we would turn no hand to provide for their comfort.What they want done they must do for themselves.



"Still it will do no harm for us to provide them with the needed equipment.You can requisition a distillation unit, Grudo?Some vats, coils, storage containers ...that sort of thing?"



"Why," acknowledged Grudo frowning, "I suppose so.But—"



And he glanced at the Lady Loala questioningly.Her gray-green eyes had never left Steve's face.Now those eyes hardened to the color of frosted agate.She said slowly,



"Yes, Captain Huumo, that seems harmless enough, and can be done.Perhaps you yourself would like to help the earthlings install this unit?"



Duane said eagerly, "Why—why, yes.I should be glad to help in any way—" Then he stopped abruptly, warned by the note of sarcasm in the girl's voice."I, my Lady?I soil my hands in labor for such as these?I do not understand."



"On the contrary," said Loala, her voice more harshly grating than Duane had ever heard it, "I think you understand too well, Captain Huumo! So you learned nothing from the earthman, eh? You suspect there are no such creatures as Slumberers? But while you tarried, plotting with your friend—we have learned otherwise! Grudo, call the informer!"



Her voice cracked like the bite of a lashing whip.Steve stared.



"What?I don't—"



Then the words of denial faltered and died on his lips.For Grudo had opened the door, and into the room now stepped one whose entrance was like that of a spectre of doom.An earthman with bandaged head who stared at Stephen Duane with eyes reflecting not only malice and triumph but—restored sanity.



To this one the Lady Loala spoke.



"Well," she cried, "is this he of whom you told us?"



And:



"Aye, it is he!"declared Eric von Rath."Even beneath that disguise I know him well.He who stands before you is the Daans' worst enemy—that Slumberer known as Stephen Duane!"






In that moment of betrayal tottered and fell the dreamworld of freedom Stephen Duane had been building within his heart.This was the one blow he had feared, and it had fallen.Von Rath's mind had cleared at last of its amnesia, and his first act had been to align himself with humanity's foes.



This, knew Duane with dull, sickening certainty, was the end of the trail; the last act of a drama foredoomed to tragedy.Gone now was the last hope he might live to see Earth liberated.



But if he died, as he would surely die, there was one who would not live to gloat upon his passing.With a cry of rage Steve ripped his ray crystal from its pouch on his harness, turned it upon the suddenly blanching von Rath and fingered its press.



But even as its lethal flame spewed from the opening, his enemies moved.Grudo hurled himself forward, dragging Steve to the floor by sheer brute force, slashing the weapon from his grasp.The rays spent themselves aimlessly on adamant walls and ceilings.And Grudo cried, "A hand here, Amarro!Secure me this skulking spy."



Against two strong and determined foes Steve Duane was helpless.A few minutes later, bleeding and disheveled, hands lashed to his sides with coils upon coils of biting plastic cord, he stood staring defiantly at his captors.



"Very well," he groaned. "I am Stephen Duane, one of the Slumberers. The masquerade is over and this scene of our little playlet is done. But the curtain has not yet fallen on the last act. Though I die, what I have fought for lives on. Others like myself will rise after me. And I tell you now, proud Overlords of Earth, the day will surely come when humanity shall overthrow your tyrannies as mankind ever in the past has destroyed those who set themselves up in omnipotence.



"And as for you, von Rath—" He turned blazing eyes to the German, smirking out of combat range—"if ever again these bonds are stricken from my hands, those hands will surely throttle the breath from your black throat."



Von Rath laughed uneasily.



"That is a vow you will never keep, mein LeutnantThe Daans, like myself, are realists.They are too clever to allow an avowed enemy to exist.We understand each other, I and they.Meanwhile, for your insolence—"



And he took a step forward, arm lifted to strike the bound prisoner before him.But the Lady Loala stayed his gesture with a command.



"Stop, earthman!Presume not over-much on your newly-won favor.The Daans need no human aid in handling their captives.Begone about your business until you are sent for."






The German wilted before her gaze.With a muttered apology he slunk away.Then turned the Lady Loala to her one-time favorite, and though she spoke imperiously still, her tone was edged with the faintest note of regret.



"Now this is a mad thing you have done, Steve of Emmeity," she said."Have you no wisdom?Were you not content to leave things as they were?"



Steve said, "No, my Lady.I do not expect you to understand—quite.But perhaps you can if I tell you that in the day whence I came, earthmen were not the cringing, servile creatures you have known them to be.They were a strong race, proud and noble as your own.I did what I could to regain that lost freedom.No human worthy of the name would have been content to do otherwise."



"I am not speaking now of governments or empires, human Steve," said the silver lady softly."Years change all things.No reasoning soul but realizes that some day Daan's dominion over Earth was bound to pass.But all this might have come in the fullness of time.It was not necessary you should hold yourself alone responsible for its accomplishment.



"So I speak not of empires, but of individuals.Did you not know when you espoused this foredoomed cause that your failure would spell an end to the dreams of intimacy you and I have shared?"



Even in the depths of his own darkest hour, Duane felt a shred of compassion for the Lady Loala.A Daan and an Overlord she was, but she was a woman, too, and one at this moment sadly forlorn.



He said quietly, "Aye, my Lady.Even this I knew."



"Then how could you, Steve of Emmeity?Why did you—?"



She stopped abruptly, her gray-green eyes narrowing shrewdly."I begin to understand.Then these, too, your professions of admiration for me, they were all part of the plan.They, too, were insincere."



Steve said with perfect candor, "No, my Lady Loala, they were not altogether insincere."



"Not altogether!"The Overlord seized the words, hurled them back at him through clenched teeth."But in part, at least!There is another woman, then, whose charms you find more alluring than those of the Lady Loala?Yes, there is!I read it in your eyes.Speak, I command you!Which is she who has so captured your fancy?Speak, that I may teach her the folly of pitting her fleshly wiles against the magnificence of a Daan princess.



"Is she perhaps that muck-begrimed slut who cried aloud your name in the prison camp?Or some other flabby creature, cowering in her hut on distant Earth?Speak, I say!"



But Duane said nothing, and after a tense moment the flame died from the Lady Loala's eyes.Her features tightened to a silver mask, and she turned to the guard Amarro.



"Remove this creature from my sight," she commanded. "He should die now, but the Supreme Council must be shown that there were Slumberers, and that one was in our very midst. Turn him into the pens with his fellow swine."



And she turned her back.Amarro prodded Steve toward the door."Move along, earthman," he commanded gruffly.



They left the administration building, started toward the prison camp.But when the door had closed behind them, and they two were alone, a strange thing happened.Amarro turned and stared at Steve, long and appraisingly, then spoke a sentence which sent a blaze of fire coursing through Steve's veins.



"You are a strange person," he said."You arouse my curiosity, earthman.Tell me—have you kinsmen on distant Terra?"






CHAPTER XVII



Fortress in the Fen




Out of the depths of despair, Amarro's simple query came to Duane like the warm and welcome hand of a friend in blinding fog.Excitement hammered his pulse-beats to a rising fever.In vain he reminded himself that Amarro's choice of words might be purely coincidental, that the Daan prison guard might be, as he had claimed, merely curious.For Steve was thinking of Okuno's last instructions.He heard again the voice of the grave and gentle masquerader on Earth:



"Mark well this interchange, O Slumberer.Should one say to you, 'Have you kinsmen on distant Terra?', answer that questioner—"



And—for better or worse—Steve responded as he had been told.



"Aye," he said, his eyes searching Amarro's face, "I have many brothers."



And his breath caught in his throat as the guarded light in Amarro's eyes lifted, and his captor said firmly but clearly, "The brave never lack for brethren, O Dwain!"



A cry of gladness almost escaped Duane's lips.Okuno had spoken truly when he said that even in the most unexpected places might he find allies.



"Then you," cried Steve, "are one of us.You, too—"



"Hush!" Amarro warned him sharply."Careful, O Dwain!Warn them not.We must move swiftly.



"When we reach the barricade, I will pause to remove your bonds, and motion you toward the prison camp with leveled ray-gun. You must seize the gun and strike me senseless with it. Stay not your strength, but strike hard and true that none may suspect me. It is important I should remain at this post I have held ever since the former Amarro visited Earth."



"I get it," breathed Steve."Then what shall I do? Where shall I go?"



"Flee to the swamp-edge," Amarro's nod designated the direction."There, beside a small dock, you will find a motor-skiff.Leap into this, press the red stud on the instrument panel, and its automatic controls will speed you to my private refuge hidden in the fens.There await me.I shall come to you as soon as possible."



"And the other prisoners?"



"Think not of them, O Dwain, but of yourself.Now, the moment approaches—"



"Wait," breathed Steve hastily."There is one thing vitally important.You heard my request for distillation apparatus?"



"Yes."



"Then somehow see that this machinery is smuggled to those in the camp.Will you do this?"



"I will, O Dwain.And now, in the name of freedom, strike—and strike hard!"



And with the words, Amarro sheared the bonds from Duane's wrists, thrust a hand against Steve's shoulder coarsely, and cried that all might hear, "Into your wallow, pig of Earth!Join your fellow—aaah!"



His sentence died in a groan as Steve, obeying his instructions to the letter, tore the weapon from his grasp and slashed it violently across the Daan's head.Amarro sank to the ground, a limp and sodden mass.And Duane fled.






Hours later, when Stephen Duane and Amarro met again, it was under strangely new conditions.When, from the tiny island upon which his precipitant flight had ended, he heard throbbing in his ears the hum of an atomic motor similar to that propelling the boat which conveyed him hither, he rose and sought cover, emerged only when he was certain the arrival was none other than his newfound ally.Then he hurried to the beach and welcomed Amarro.



"Thank God," he breathed, "you're all right!I couldn't wait to see.But you fell so heavily I was afraid I struck too hard."



Amarro grinned ruefully.



"You struck," he assured Steve, "hard enough.But that was well.I was still unconscious when they found me.No one dreams I aided your escape.



"Should you wonder how I managed to get here so soon, I'm supposedly searching for you.And I am but one of scores, O Dwain.Grudo sent an emergency call to headquarters, and soon these fens will be combed by a hundred bloodthirsty Daans."



Steve said, "Then must I press on still farther?"



"No.This island is small, and it is but one of thousands in this wild, uncharted swampland.Through the eternal mists they might search for weeks without ever stumbling upon it.But even if they should—" Amarro grinned—"they won't find you.Because you will be completely out of sight."



"On this exposed beach?"



"Only surfaces," reminded Amarro, "are exposed, O Dwain.There is more here than meets the eye.Help me shift these motorcraft to concealment; then I will show you."



A few minutes later, their boats hidden beneath the small landing pier, Amarro led Steve to what appeared to be a small natural promontory near the center of the island.Before a huge granite boulder, taller by half than a man, he stopped, scrabbled briefly in the sand, and uncovered a small metal disc.This he fingered in a curious fashion.And as he did so, Stephen Duane gasped aloud.For the boulder, which had seemed firmly entrenched in its foundation, swung smoothly to one side, exposing a narrow, artificial passageway leading into the subterranean bowels of the island refuge.






Amarro turned, smiling.



"Here, O Slumberer, is my real refuge, prepared against our hour of pressing need. Follow me to that which will be your home on Daan so long as you have need of one."



Full twenty feet the corridor drove into the heart of the jungle island, then opened into a series of underground chambers which were to be Stephen's hideout.And looking upon this place, hope blossomed within Duane more strongly than it had ever dared since his wakening from an age-old slumber.



For everything was here ...everything.Not only food and drink with which to sustain life, but the little luxuries—soft beds and warm clothing; a musical instrument, the Daan's equivalent of a phonograph; books to read—were stored here as well.And—most important—constructed within the refuge were those two things which Duane needed most.A compact but efficient chemical laboratory, and a powerful ultra-wave communicator over which he could converse with Okuno on far-away Earth.



Swiftly Amarro instructed him in the operation of those Daan inventions with which he was not familiar.The atomic cooking-range and incinerating unit, the ultra-wave transmitter.Then he gripped Steve's hand in farewell.



"I place my hand in thine thus, O Dwain," he said, "for thus I am told men pledged their faith in the old days.I must go now, ere my absence awakens suspicion.But be of good cheer.That which you asked me to do for the prisoners will be taken care of.Hidden safely here, do what you can and must, and from time to time I will visit you.But be at all times cautious.Stay off the surface of the isle, and answer no calls unless they be from voices you recognize.Goodbye."



And he was gone.






So settled Stephen Duane for a period which on Earth would have been reckoned as three weeks.On slower-turning Venus, and especially here in these marshes which knew only the filtered light of cloud-drenched sunshine, it was hard to mark the passage of time.But days and nights meant nothing to Duane.When he hungered, he ate.When his brain and body wearied of the innumerable tasks to which he set himself, he slept.



Nor was his period of incarceration dreary.There was much to occupy his time.Twice Amarro came furtively and left with equal stealth, each time advising Steve as to the progress of those still captive in the prison camp.



Much, Amarro told him, had been accomplished. The administrative buildings of the camp were a beehive thronged with Daan warriors who each dusk returned disgruntled and petulant. Meanwhile, as the search for the fugitive Slumberer preoccupied the Daans, the back-breaking labor of the Earth prisoners had been suspended. Amarro, with no voice to say him nay, had requisitioned a "water distillation unit" for the convict barracks. And now night and day earthmen and women labored with rekindled vigor to turn out in vast quantities containers of that gaseous by-product Chuck Lafferty was distilling from Venusian klaar



"It is my task," Amarro said proudly, "to smuggle these containers out of the camp and into those strategic points which we must strike when the Day of Freedom dawns.And you, O Dwain?You have spoken to our brethren on Earth?"



"Constantly," Steve told him grimly."And there's good news from there, too.Okuno tells me word of the Slumberers' wakening has spread like wildfire throughout all of Tizathy.Converts flock to our rallying-points from every mount and valley, lake and plain.



"One strong and gallant ally has Okuno found.A golden warrior-priestess from the hills of Jinnia.It appears this priestess, Meg, and her consort, one known as Daiv, are of a superior wisdom and culture.For several years they have known the Great Secret: that the gods of old were no 'gods' at all, but men like us.And in their own small way they have transmitted the Revelation over vast areas.Now have they joined our cause, and those who follow them number in the hundreds of thousands.But you spoke of strategic points, Amarro?You mean the palace of the Supreme Council; such places as that?"



"That is the one place," confessed Amarro ruefully, "we have been unable to cache cylinders of our anesthetic weapon.But elsewhere in public buildings, and even on ships of the Great Armada—"



"Wait!"interrupted Steve sharply."That reminds me.Here is something Chuck Lafferty will want to know—"



And before Amarro left, Duane sketched for him a series of diagrams which should prove of vital interest to Lafferty's laborers when, as Amarro had phrased it, the Day of Freedom dawned.






Thus three weeks sped more swiftly than waters churning a millrace.And at last came the hour when Duane felt the long-delayed blow might be struck.



He knew full well the dangers before him and his comrades.But he knew equally well that their preparations were as well laid as was humanly possible, and that with each succeeding day the danger of their conspiracy being detected loomed ever nearer.



Thus, speaking to Okuno over the now familiar ultra-wave circuit, he issued to that salient's commander the order Okuno had been awaiting.



"The hour has come, my friend," he said simply."Strike when you will."



Across more than twenty-five million miles of yawning space Okuno's voice broke in a little gasp.



"You mean we can strike without fear of reprisal, O Slumberer?The Venusian fleet has been rendered impotent?"



"Not as yet," said Duane."But it will be.You on Earth must strike before we do.We need the confusion and turmoil into which news of your uprising will throw the Daan militia to serve as a shield concealing our own final preparations.When excitement has blinded them to the small but important movements we must make, we too will strike."



"So be it," acknowledged Okuno with a blind confidence which warmed Duane's heart."Then this shall be our last conversation, O Eternal One, until the fight is won.May the gods of Earth bless you!"



"And may they," said Duane, "fight at your side as you herald the dawning of a new day.Till we meet again, my friend!"



And the connection was severed.



There remained now but one thing.To inform Amarro when he visited that night—as he had promised to do—that already the Earth rebellion was under way, and to set into motion those wheels which his and Lafferty's efforts had greased.



So Stephen Duane, tense and impatient for the first time since he had sought refuge, paced the floor of his underground refuge like a caged tiger, awaiting the grate of stone upon sand which would bespeak Amarro's arrival.



But the sound which finally reached his waiting ears was one even more cheering.For it was as though Amarro, by some prescience, had guessed the significance of this night's meeting.The sound which reached Duane's ears from the island surface was not the guard's husky whisper—but the sound of his own name, loudly cried in a dear, familiar voice.



"Dwain!Steve!Where are you?Open to me swiftly!"



Duane's heart leaped.Beth!Amarro must have told her of this spot, and in the fogs above she was searching for him on a barren island.



He needed no second bidding.Eagerly he raced up the corridor, released the catch which opened the boulder door, stepped forth—and into sight of a company of armed Daans at whose head stood Grudo, and with whom was a silver woman who, even now, was lifting again her voice in perfect imitation of Beth's loved tones.



"Dwain!O Steve!"



Steve Duane choked, "Loala—you!It was a trick; a trap!"



Then he said nothing more.For at that moment something brutally hard smashed down upon his head with crushing force.The fog of Daan thickened to eddying darkness, and Stephen Duane pitched forward, senseless, into the waiting arms of his captors.






CHAPTER XVIII



The Offer of Loala




What Duane recalled of the ensuing hours was a maelstrom of confusion, a phantasmagoria composed of incoherent snatches, peopled with creatures who moved before his vision fleetingly, lingered for a moment, then faded.



Later he dimly recalled once opening his eyes to find himself lying in the thwarts of a motor-skiff scudding through the tortuous channels of a marshland stream.He was conscious of dank mists choking his nostrils and the humid spray of fen waters drenching him as the tiny craft sped toward an unguessed destination.



When next he wakened all this had disappeared.His body, which had been wet, was parched and dry; his mouth was cottony with thirst, and his head hammered brassily.He lay in the cabin of an aereo flashing swiftly through the atmosphere of Venus.A covey of armed guards surrounded him.When he muttered a feeble plaint for water, one dashed a dipperful in his face and laughed harshly as Steve, bound hand and foot, attempted to gulp a few precious drops.



Then again merciful unconsciousness welcomed him, and he knew no more until he wakened for a third time to find himself lying on a crude pallet within a metal-walled room which was obviously a prison cell in the palace of the Daan capital.



Of this he assured himself when, staggering weakly to his feet, he lurched to a grilled opening in one wall and looked down across a great courtyard bristling with armed men over the rooftops of the Daan's mightiest city to the distant spacedrome which, even from this distance Steve could see, was swarming with a black host of humans and Daans performing indistinguishable tasks in, around, and about the spaceships of Daan's great Armada.



His head still throbbed terribly, but with each passing moment an iota of additional strength seeped back into his superbly conditioned body.And save for a weakness born solely of hunger and thirst, Stephen Duane was very nearly recuperated from the effects of his recent assault by the time his gaolers discovered he had come to.



Then one of the warders came with welcome refreshment and unwelcome tidings.As he pushed the first through a movable grill in the corridor door, he donated the second freely.



"Still alive, eh, dog of Earth?"he taunted grimly."Well, eat and drink heartily; this may be your last meal.You must have a skull of bronze, human.I did not expect to find you on your feet when I came here."



Steve said, "I'm in the palace tower?"



"That's right," grunted his gaoler."But not for long.The Supreme Council has ordered you be brought before them as soon as you waken.They have a few questions to ask before—"



He left the matter of Steve's fate dangling, but the smirk of malice on his lips was suggestion enough.



Steve asked, "And the excitement at the spacedrome?What means that?"






The guard grinned evilly.



"It means an end to all coddling of you Earth scum.We Daans have been too lenient with you, human.But now your rebelliousness has taught us the error of our ways.We like not the news reaching us from your miserable planet.The Armada is being fueled and equipped to give you earthmen such a lesson in Daan justice as was never before taught.Now, no more questions.Prepare yourself to visit those who will judge you."



Thus a few minutes later Stephen Duane found himself for the second time in the great council hall of the palace of the Daans, face to face with the effete three who ruled the Venusian empire.



If he had thought before the Masters of Daan were a decadent set, he saw now convincing proof of this belief.For strong men deal strongly with those who oppose them.Though they slay their enemies, they do so honorably and openly; oftimes even with a reluctant recognition of their foe-men's prowess.



But weaklings respect not even the dignity of death.And the Venusian masters were weak.There was a feral spitefulness in their attitude toward him who stood before them.Though they blustered and threatened as they questioned Steve, he could sense beneath their vindictiveness an uncertainty, a superstitious dread, which under any other circumstances might have been almost laughable.



For one said to him petulantly, "So you are one of those whom humans call 'Slumberers?'Well, where are the god-like powers you boast?Can you free yourself from these halls?Can you call down the lightnings of heaven to strike us on our thrones?Can you stay the slow death on the rack which is your sure payment for the trouble you have caused us?"



Duane said slowly, savoring the moment, "Nay, Lords of Daan.These things I would not do if I could.But there is this I can promise you.Your puny vengeance on me will prove vain.For each drop of blood you force from my veins, a Daan shall make payment with his life.As my bones crumble beneath your instruments of torture, even so shall the empire of Daan crumble, crushing you beneath its fall."



Another of the Masters bleated fretfully, "You mouth great boasts, earthman, for one whose carcass shall soon rot on the ramparts of this citadel.But as you die so will all rebel earthlings like yourself.One by one shall we find those who defy us and mete out to them the punishment they deserve."



Duane laughed in the Master's face.



"So, my Lord?Some you will find perhaps.But—all?I wonder.Only a short time hence you received me with great honors in this very hall as the proud Daan nobleman, 'Captain Huumo.'Does not the memory of this strike fear to your bosom?



"Look about you, my Lord.These 'friends and noblemen' gathered in this chamber—can you tell which are true Daans and which masquerading earthmen like myself who, at any moment, may bury an avenging dagger in your breast?



"Look sharply, my Lord.For truly I tell you your highest councils are laced with humans like myself who will carry on the work for which you have condemned me.Look closely at each face.Can you tell which face is truly Daan and which is the artificially bleached complexion of an earthman?Aye, even look at each other, you three who sit in the highest seats of judgment.Are you certain that not even one of your own august body is an interloper, a spy waiting his moment to turn against you?"






His shrewd technique, his psychological employment of fifth column tactics borrowed from the masters of boring-from-within of his own era, found root in the suspicious hearts of the Masters.A bruit whispered about the council hall as Daan fingers sought weapons in Daan harnesses, and each listening nobleman edged cautiously from his nearest neighbor.Even the three Masters cast furtive glances at each other as though wondering if possibly—just possibly—there could be something in this man's taunts.



Then Steve's first accuser spoke again, his voice shrill.



"Enough of this!You were summoned hither to hear our judgment, not impugn the dignity and honor of the master race.



"Your efforts are fruitless, earthman.Even now the Armada is being readied.From every city and town, hill and fen, have been conveyed hither hordes of slaves to load our spacecraft.Before Daan turns again upon its axis our mighty fleet will be soaring Earthward to lash your miserable planet with such horrors as never you dreamed could be unleashed.



"When this has been accomplished will be time enough to weed out such few false Daans as, like yourself, may have managed to insinuate themselves into our midst.So when you writhe upon the rack, person of Earth, think not of those trifling successes your rebel mobs have made on your native planet, but of the devastating vengeance which will surely reclaim our tottering colony."



The unwitting revelation stiffened Steve Duane with joy.His eyes lighted, and his lips parted in a grim smile.



"Successes, my Lord? Then our fighters have overthrown your strongholds as was planned?"



The Master's pale cheeks glowed with unaccustomed color as he realized his error.He said with sudden savagery, "It matters not.You came hither for trial, not triumph!Take him back to his dungeon, guard, until we have decided a fitting punishment for him."



And Duane was led away.






But judgment was not so swift in forthcoming as had been threatened.All that day Stephen Duane languished in his cell.Nor could he learn from his truculent guard anything more of that which was transpiring on far-away Earth.All Duane knew was that—apparently—Okuno's rebellion had been crowned with initial success.The Master's slip of the tongue had revealed this; further proof lay in the ever-heightening excitement at the spacedrome.



Its vast plain was like a mighty ant-hill upon which lay a hundred glistening metal eggs.To and from each of these objects filed streams of scurrying figures.One such column poured into a forward port of each ship, never afterward to emerge.These, Duane rightly guessed, would be the Daan warriors taking up transport quarters.The stern port was serviced by two files.One which approached slowly, heavy-laden with supplies, fuel, ammunition; the other of which streamed back to ordnance depots more swiftly to pick up new burdens.These would be the slaves, laboring to charge the fleet for its mission.



And watching these preparations, Steve felt his joy overshadowed with a sense of deepening sadness.The Master had spoken truly in claiming this Armada would overwhelm Earth's uprising.Soon these hundred rockets would blast from their cradles on flaming pillars to flash Earthward.



And that, groaned Steve, was his fault.His capture had made it possible for the Daans to quell this rebellion.He had promised Okuno the spacefleet would be immobilized, then had permitted himself to fall pitiful prey to a woman's ruse.Had he but waited within the underground refuge until Amarro returned to tell him all was well and in readiness....



The sound of footsteps approaching his cell brought an abrupt end to Duane's mournful reverie.He moved from the window opening and squared his shoulders to meet as bravely as possible those finally coming to convey him to his doom.



There sounded the murmur of voices, then the grate of metal upon metal.Slowly the door swung open, and a lone figure stepped into his cell.At the sight of this figure Duane's frozen mask slackened into lines of astonishment.For it was no warrior band which confronted him.It was, instead, she whose silver loveliness was surpassed on two planets only by the dust-gold beauty of one other.



It was the Lady Loala.






Then Duane's surprise coalesced into a tiny grimace of understanding.He said slowly, "So, my Lady, you could not resist this last opportunity to taunt my helplessness."



And—it was completely wrong, completely illogical.The Lady Loala should have flashed into instant indignation, lashed back at him with all the dignity and fury of her superior station.But strangely she did not.She said instead, in a mild and strangely troubled voice,



"You speak but half a truth, Stephen Duane.I could not resist this last opportunity to see you again—and to plead with you for sanity."



Duane stared at her starkly.



"Plead with me?You, Lady Loala?But this is madness.The Supreme Council has decided my fate—"



"Not yet," said the argent princess swiftly."I have addressed myself to them, human Steve.I stand high in their council and in their favor.Even though you be the most dangerous rebel ever to set himself against the majesty of Daan, they have listened to my pleas.There is one last way in which I can save you."



"And that is—?"demanded Steve.



"We of Daan," said Loala simply, "have a great science.None surpass us in knowledge of mental and physiological change.You have seen how we inscribe electrical brain-images on metal cylinders.Similarly we can, if we wish, alter the entire brain structures of both Daans and humans.



"There is an operation that can be performed upon you, Steve of Emmeity. A simple and painless one. You need but place yourself in a certain chamber, and of your own free will permit that our apparatus activate the electrical network which is your brain pattern. Our delicate instruments can utterly erase every thought and recollection which is now yours by changing the contours of your brain. Then by superimposing new forms upon this plastic gray matter, you can be given an entire new series of thought-habits and memories.



"In other words, human Steve, the Supreme Council has permitted this for my sake: that the human brain of Steve of Emmeity be expunged.And in its place you be given a new brain pattern; that of a true and loyal Daan.Well—?"She paused and looked at him breathlessly—"What say you, Steve of Emmeity?"






CHAPTER XIX



End of the Trail




For a moment Steve knew not what to say.It never occurred to him to doubt the truth of Loala's claim.One thing he had never questioned was the superb scientific ability of this race.His own knowledge of biological science assured him that such master surgeons as the Daans undoubtedly could accomplish this incredible feat.



The only question in his mind was: was it worthwhile he should save his life at such a cost? The thought struck him swiftly that it was not truly his life, the life of Stephen Duane, which would be saved. The fleshly frame which encompassed his personality would live and breathe, true. But that essence which was himself would, in this operation, be as truly destroyed as if his heart were stilled.



He stammered, "But, Loala, if it is I you would save, surely you realize that after such an operation I would no longer be myself."



Loala said, "The change would alter your false ideologies, Steve of Emmeity.But it need not necessarily change those other things about you I—admire.The operation would remove the last traces of rebelliousness which separate me and thee.Your new brain pattern would retain only such things as—" fiercely—"once made you vow you found me desirable.Well, human Steve?Decide.For time grows short, and I may make this offer but a single time."



Steve said, "And if I accept, Lady Loala?What then would those who were my comrades think of me?They will see the body of Stephen Duane living proudly and gladly, a nobleman amongst Daans, consort of a Daan princess.They will know I have forsaken the cause, betrayed them—"



The Lady Loala waved a silver hand impatiently.



"They will think nothing, Steve of Emmeity, nor judge you not.When our spacefleet reaches Earth the rebellion will be quelled, and all those who had a part in it will be no more."



And it was then Stephen Duane realized, with a rising hope which was at the same time a heartbreaking sadness, that which he must do.That which was the last great service he could perform for the gallant men and women, the beautiful Earth, he loved.



He made his decision.And as one who shops at a market-place, he haggled for his bargain.To Loala of Daan he said softly, "I speak not to an Overlord and a princess now, but as a man of one world to a woman of another.Speak truly, my Lady.Do I mean so much to you?"



Whatever Duane might have liked or disliked about this woman in the past there was one truth shining-clear.She was one who followed the urgings of her own desires, nor masked them not.She lifted frank gray-green eyes to his.



"Yes, Steve of Emmeity," she said candidly, "this much you mean to me."



"This much," pressed Steve, "and how much more?Would you, for my sake, stay the blow which is shortly to descend upon that Earth, those comrades whom you ask me to abandon?"



The Lady Loala said, "I do not understand."



"You know that a short time hence the Armada departs earthward.For my agreement to undergo this operation, will you arrange that the arrival of the Armada will not loose a fury of destruction?That the punitive expedition will reestablish control of Earth quietly, and with as little blood-shed as possible?In short, will you grant amnesty to my fellow rebels, nor wreak terrible vengeance upon them for what has been done?"






Loala cried, "But this is impossible, Steve of Emmeity!Never has Daan supremacy been so threatened—"



"Never before," Steve reminded her, "did Slumberers awake.Nor ever again shall this happen.You have said yourself it is inevitable that at some future time Earth must be free.Now I bargain with you that we earthmen cease our efforts to accomplish this immediately, and you Daans refrain from destroying the human seed which shall, perhaps centuries hence when you and I are dust, liberate itself.



"Surely you see, my Lady Loala," he wheedled, "that what the future may bring concerns us not.   We seek only our present happiness—"



The Lady Loala was swayed.Her eyes mirrored indecision.She whispered, "But—but the Supreme Council—"



"Is weak," said Steve, "and you are strong, wielding great power over them.Hark, my Lady.Who is to say but that someday you and I, working side by side together, may not even rise to the posts of supreme authority now held by the decadent trio?Then could we not work out for both our planets a new design for living?"



"Hush!"warned Loala nervously."You speak treason, Steve of Emmeity!To rise against the Supreme Council—"



"Is not folly," pleaded Steve."You know as well as I that one sharp blow would depose them.And if the new brain you give me has daring and sincerity, this you and I can do together."



"Yes," whispered the Lady Loala."You and I together.It is possible, Steve of Emmeity."



"Then you will do it?And even the ringleaders you will allow to go free?My friend, the one known as Chuck ...the priestess Beth...?"



The troubled eyes darkened swiftly, stormily.



"Nay," denied the Lady Loala savagely, "there is one who cannot go free!I will share you with no other woman, whether of Earth or Daan!"



"You need share me with no other," Steve reminded her with a trace of sadness, "when the operation is done.My mind and heart will be yours alone."



"But she will remember."



"Until," pointed out Steve, "the first time we meet and I know her not.Well, my Lady—what say you?You must decide swiftly.Footsteps approach.If I am not mistaken, the footsteps of my executioners."



The last words settled the indecision of the Daan princess.A shudder coursed through her; instinctively one pale, soft hand stretched forth to touch Stephen Duane's arm possessively.And:



"Very well," cried the Lady Loala."It shall be as you say.It is a bargain, Steve of Emmeity!"



Then as once again the cell door swung open, this time to expose a phalanx of Venusian guards come to convey their prisoner to execution, she whirled to face the soldiers like a lioness.



"Nay, touch him not!"she cried savagely."I care not what your orders are; they will be countermanded so soon as I can reach the ears of the Supreme Council.This prisoner goes not to the rack, but to the Mental Laboratory.Take him thither.Prepare him for operation and await my coming."






So entered Stephen Duane upon the last ordeal of an adventure the most imaginative man of his century might never have dared conceive.



To the Mental Laboratory he was led by grumbling but obedient guards.There he was stripped of all raiment containing any metallic appurtenances and prepared for placement into a cabinet similar to that wherein he had undergone a lesser and transitory change weeks—or was it ages?—ago on his native Earth.



True to her promise the Lady Loala tarried not long.Duane had waited but a few minutes when she burst breathlessly into the room bearing an order signed by the Masters of the Supreme Council.This she hurled at the guards and dismissed them.Now there were in the room but herself and Steve, the technologist of Daan mental clinic, and his assistant.



The master surgeon nodded acquiescence to Loala's query.



"The chamber is ready, my Lady.The operation can be performed whensoever it pleases you."



Loala smiled at Steve.He found himself wondering dimly whether, when next he looked upon that smile, some trace of lingering sadness in his heart would remind him the lips which framed it were but second-best in his affection, or whether he would truly be so altered that his heart would thrill to bursting with its invitation.



He found it hard to believe that anything man or Daan could do, any device man or Daan might invent, could destroy the cherished vision of a dust-gold maiden locked in his heart, or broom away the memory of warm lips which had met his own in the touching-of-mouths.But....



"You are ready, Steve of Emmeity?"asked Loala softly.



He had made a bargain. And that it was a bargain, Duane knew well.  The ens, the mental personality of one person, for perhaps a half million lives.One heart's longing balanced against the aspirations of an entire race.This was the greatest barter any man had ever made.It was no time for self pity.He should be fiercely glad such an opportunity had presented itself.He nodded.



"I am ready, Loala.Yet—" He smiled slowly—"there is one thing more.After I leave this cabinet I shall not care ...but now, for the few seconds remaining to the brain of Stephen Duane, it is a matter of great curiosity.Tell me, my Lady, how goes the Earth rebellion?"



Loala said, "Though the cause is doomed, Steve of Emmeity, you should be proud to know you builded your movement well.Everywhere your followers have overwhelmed our Earth garrisons.Kleevlun has fallen and Washtun; Ashful; Sangleez; every citadel on Tizathy.



"Even our outposts on other Earth continents are in rebel hands.Blin, Lunnon, Kiro, a hundred more.Aye, even strong Sinnaty, which was my bastion and pride, is now the stronghold of a rebel masquerader whom I considered one of my loyalest nobles, the Lord Okuno."



"And I have your promise," said Steve, "that mercy will be granted these rebels when the Armada reaches Earth?"






The Lady Loala nodded."That I swear, Steve of Emmeity.In fact—" She paused, glanced suddenly at the moving hand of a chronometer set in the laboratory wall—"in fact, I have the assurance of the Council that such orders are to be audioed to every commander of the fleet before the Armada jets for Earth, moments hence.If you would enter the cabinet with the spoken vow of Daan honor in your ears, you may hear for yourself...."



She turned to the wall, pressed a stud set therein, and from a small grill issued a voice Steve Duane remembered.It was that of one of the Masters of the Supreme Council.



"—therefore we," he was saying, "the Masters of Daan, do hereby command and ordain that this punitive expedition shall refrain from accomplishing that utter destruction of the Earth colony previously ordered.It is our sage decision—"



The voice droned on.Steve turned grateful eyes to the waiting Overlord.



"You have done well, O Loala.It is as I said; they are weaklings, you are strong."



"It was not easy," Loala told him."But I pointed out that with you, the spearhead of the rebellion, blunted, the movement would falter and die.Moreover, I appealed to their greed, pointing out our continuous need for human slaves.And now, Steve of Emmeity, can you seek forgetfulness and a new life with a happy heart?"



Not with a happy heart, thought Steve regretfully. Never with a happy heart. But at least with one fear-free and comforted by the knowledge his comrades were safe. He took a step forward.



"Yes, my Lady.I am ready."



And he opened the door of the cabinet ...then whirled, startled.For the door of the clinic had burst open suddenly, and into the room charged one so maddened with fury that his face was drawn into almost unrecognizable lines.A voice smote Duane's ears with raging violence, but the accusation of the newcomer was hurled not so much at Steve as at she who stood a few paces from his side.



"So, my Lady Loala!"screamed the earthling traitor, von Rath."You, too, have fallen a victim to the mouthings of this lying Slumberer!Even you, a Daan, would betray the master race!"



Loala's eyes glinted.Her arm lifted.



"Earthman," she cried, "depart!It is not yours to judge the decision of the Overlords."



"It is mine," screamed von Rath, "to destroy one who would overthrow the master race of which I am a Brother. Even though the Council be beguiled, I am not.  You, Stephen Duane, die now!"



And with the swiftness of a striking cobra his hand tugged a ray-weapon from its harness, pointed at Steve and clenched convulsively.






CHAPTER XX



"And Thus Be It Ever...."




Flaming radiation from the crystal seared a livid path across the room.Duane gasped and tumbled to the floor, hands clawing futilely at his own harness, now stripped of all defensive weapons, rolled and pulled to his knees, trying to close the gap between himself and his attacker before the maddened German could spear him on that lethal ray.



But if Steve was weaponless, another was not.A cry of burning rage burst from the lips of the Lady Loala, and a whirring something whispered a threnody of death across the room as she whipped a small, jeweled dagger from her side, hurled it at von Rath.



Too hastily she threw.The poniard missed its mark.But in ducking away, the one-time Nazi spy caught the whirling impact of the dagger's pommel on his right wrist.His crystalline weapon flew from nerveless fingers, skittered across the floor, rays of death still spuming from its orifice.



Duane needed but that one moment.With a leap and a bound he was upon the man to whom he had promised death should ever again they meet.



Von Rath, scrambling after his fallen weapon on all fours, swiveled in time to see unleashed vengeance crashing toward him.He forgot the crystal then, and with a shrill cry of panic turned to flee.



But he never reached the door.Steve caught him first.And there was inexorable certainty in the settling of his hands about the German's throat.



"This I promised you, von Rath," he roared."It comes late, but at last it comes!"



And his fingers tightened.



What von Rath screamed in those last moments, Duane did not know nor ever was to learn.Perhaps his last breath cursed the fellow Slumberer whose hands with dreadful certainty crushed the breath of life from his lungs.Perhaps in that last moment the son of pagan Germany voiced futile pleas to a forgotten God.Whatever his words, they found no hearkening ear.Steve's great hands tightened till a darkness thickened the traitor's veins, and his tongue thrust from gasping lips.Tightened until hoarse rawls choked into silence and the body before him became a dead weight beneath his grasp.



Then, and only then, Stephen Duane's tense fingers unclenched.The flesh which had housed Eric von Rath slumped to the floor like a bag of sodden meal.It was then, too, Stephen Duane turned to the woman of Daan.



"Now, indeed," he said, "can I suffer any change a happier man. It was worth waiting—Loala!"






The cry burst from his lips.Shocked, he leaped across the chamber to where the two technicians bent anxiously over their fallen princess.Brushing them aside, Steve lifted the girl's head, cradled it in the crook of his elbow.



"Loala!"he cried."My princess!What—?"



Then understanding struck him.



"Von Rath!"he whispered."His weapon!As it flew from his hand, its rays struck you!"



And the silver woman's eyelids lifted slowly.



"Yes, Steve of Emmeity," whispered Loala."It was meant for you.But I am almost glad it happened thus."



Steve whirled to the chief surgeon.



"Well, do something!" he cried. "You're a medical man, aren't you? Don't just stand there; do something!"



The Daan savant shook his head slowly.



"There is little we can do.Her flesh is charred to a crisp.Had we time—" He frowned—"we could graft new flesh to her burns, perhaps save her life.But the operation would take hours.She cannot live so long.She would die under the knife."



Duane cried, "But you've got to try something!"



And again Loala's eyes opened for a moment.He had to bend to hear her words.



"It does not matter, Steve of Emmeity.It would never have worked anyway, my plan.Though science altered your brain, no instrument could erase the scorings on your heart.



"In a month, a year—who knows?—one day at sight of that Earth woman an ancient memory would have wakened within you, and I would have lost you again.It is better this way.But—" She smiled feebly—"you did, just now, call me ...your princess.Did you not, Steve of Emmeity?"



A warmth misted Duane's eyes, and he whispered hoarsely, "I did, O Mistress of Every Delight."



"And this time," smiled Loala wanly, "you meant it, human Steve.It is enough.But—" A slight shudder stirred through her—"what is that I hear?A voice speaks madness.Someone cries your name!"



And Steve, stunned, looked up.In this moment of true sorrow he had not realized his name was roaring through the audio unit.Now he heard it again, clarion-clear, in the voice of Chuck Lafferty.



"Steve!"Chuck was crying."Steve, can you hear me?It's all right, pal.We've got 'em!"






Steve rose, the weight of Loala a mere nothingness in his arms, hurried to the wall and pressed the button which opened the audio to a two-way transmission.



"Lafferty!"he cried into the orifice."This is Duane!Where are you, boy?What do you mean?Have you—?"



And Chuck's voice returned, riotously triumphant."Wherever you are, Steve, take a look out the nearest window."



Steve turned.Within the past few minutes, unheard in the confusion which had reigned here, a hundred thunderous blasts must have scorched the heavens over Daan.For now, roaring high above the city, circled the mighty armada of the Overlords.



Steve cried, "The fleet!It has taken off!But Chuck, where are you calling from?"



And incredibly—Chuck Lafferty laughed again.



"Don't look now, Steve," he bellowed, "but them ships you're looking at is us!We've captured every last vessel in the Daan spacefleet!Me and the rest of the slaves!We did what you said ...carried containers of methioprane into the ships while we were supposed to be loading them for the flight ...then dumped the stuff loose in the air distribution outlets you charted for us.The Venusians is gone beddy-bye.But our bunch was wearing masks and we've grabbed the Armada without a casualty!"



"And—and the ground defenses?"



"One peep out of them," chortled Chuck, "and we'll blast 'em from here to breakfast!Our guns is manned, and I've notified the Supreme Council that if they don't surrender unconditionally and Johnny-on-the-spot we'll put all Daans to sleep for the next couple of thousand years!"



Loala stirred in Steve's arms. And curiously, in those eyes which should have shown grief at the defeat of her empire, there was something akin to pride.She whispered,



"Then you succeeded after all, my Steve.Somehow ...I am ...almost glad...."



"Loala!"choked Steve.Then an idea struck him.He turned to the silent surgeon."Time!" he rasped. "You said time is what you need?"



"Yes, earthman.She cannot live much longer—"



"She can," roared Steve, "and she will! Chuck! Send someone here to the Mental Laboratory of the palace with methiopraneAnd—hurry, man!For God's sake, hurry!The life of a brave woman depends on the speed of your actions!"



Then, to the medical experts, "Get your tables ready, and what instruments you need. My men are bringing you an anesthetic which will give you all the time you need. Under it, the Lady Loala will not die because she cannotAnd by the time she comes to—God knows how long hence—her scars will be completely healed.



"Loala, you understand what I am doing?It will be a long sleep.When you waken, I will be gone.But it is the only way—"



He stopped speaking.For the gray-green eyes had closed, and the Lady Loala lay unconscious in his arms. Stephen Duane bent tenderly.For the first, last, and only time in his life he touched his lips to the brow of the silver princess.And:



"Sleep well, my Lady Loala!"whispered Steve."Sleep well and safely, O Mistress of a Thousand Charms...."






Thus went the Lady Loala, most beautiful and noblest of all Daan Overlords, to an age-long sleep. Nor was she the only Daan to seek the frozen slumber of methiopraneWhen centuries hence she wakened, it would be in a strangely new and—Stephen Duane hoped—a better world.But amidst its strangeness she would find herself surrounded by at least a handful of warriors, courtiers, and friends from this present era.



For not with complete complaisance did all the Daans accept defeat at the hands of their erstwhile slaves.Some there were, staunch fighting men, who—though they fought in the cause of decadent empire—utterly refused to surrender.Their stubborn resistance found humane ending beneath the breath of the new anesthetic weapon.



And even when all active opposition had been quelled, and a cringing Supreme Council had accepted every one of Stephen Duane's demands, there were a few proud nobles who preferred oblivion to the "ignominy and disgrace" of living under a new interplanetary order under which—as Duane's charter plainly set forth—henceforth Earth was to govern itself and pay no fealty to Daan, earthmen and Daans were to meet in future commerce and council not as Overlords and slaves, but as equals.



To those who could not swallow their pride for the betterment of both races, Duane granted the boon they asked, hoping that by the time they wakened from their slumbers, two brave new worlds would have proven the justice of Earth's liberation.



Other matters of state were arranged before the earthlings finally sought the ship which was to carry them back to their native planet.



All human slaves were freed; their owners pledged to compensate them for years spent in penniless toil.Promise of the Daan Scientific Council was exacted that this society would lend its aid to the renascent Earth empire, assisting the backward planet in rehabilitating its lost knowledge and culture.



Ambassadorships were arranged, and the groundwork for future trade treaties laid.Then, that Earth might have some measure of self defense whilst its citizens engaged in what must surely be decades—perhaps centuries—of reconstruction, the Daan armada was split into two parts.



One half of this magnificent fleet, manned by erstwhile slaves under Daan instructors, was henceforth to be Earth's property.But, fairly, Duane did not simply seize these ships ...though they would have been a small payment for the years of subjugation under which earthlings had labored.A fair valuation was set, and for the space-navy Earth's new government promised to pay in commercial products needed by the Venusians.






So finally were concluded all these negotiations immediately necessary.And because Duane's heart hungered for sight again of his sun-blessed native planet, its sweet, green hills and foam-lashed seas, at last came the day when Earth's new spacefleet was to take off for its home base.



Upon the bridge of the flagship stood those who had captained humanity to freedom.All preparations had been made; now but a word of command was needed to thrust these fifty-odd giants into the void on pillars of flame.



One last look cast Steve Duane at the mighty skyline of Daan's capital.Then he issued the word.



"Home!" he said simply.



And in more than four dozen vessels propelling studs were pressed, and the heavens shook with the thunder of roaring jets.



Chuck Lafferty made a strange, rinsing movement with his hands.



"So that," he sighed, "is that.Us and Caesar, eh, Steve?Now for good old Mother Earth, and a long nap."



Steve grinned at him.



"That's what you think, chum. If a nap's what you want, you'd better take advantage of the ten-day trip through space. Because when we get back to Earth we're going to be the busiest guys alive.



"There's a big job facing us, Chuck. Us and all mankind. We have a wide world to reclaim, centuries of lost time to make up. And," he admitted frankly, "I don't know what you think about it, but I'm looking forward to it eagerly.



"This is the chance of a thousand lifetimes.A chance to start all over, with a clean slate.Build the kind of civilization men have always dreamed of, but never before achieved.A civilization built on friendship, honor, and truth; mutual understanding and sympathy.If we make a go of it, even the Daans will fall in line; recognize our self-seized rights to be considered their equals."



The Mother Maatha said raptly, "Aye, even so, O Dwain.Thus, too, it was written in the Promise.That a new world should spring from the wakening of the Slumberers."



Steve turned to the dust-gold girl beside him, smiling.



"And what say you, my priestess Beth?What shall be your part in these new endeavors?"






The girl lifted eyes wide with question to his.



"But what else should I do," she asked, "than remain with you to council and advise you, O Dwain?Where else should I be than at the side of my mate?"



Chuck snorted amusement."That's one thing you ain't going to change in the new world, Steve," he chuckled."The men will still be doing the work, but the women will still be cracking the whip."



The shadow of an old misgiving clung to Stephen Duane. To Beth he said, "And why would you stay with me, my Beth? Because I am one of the gods?"



And this time there was no awe, but something else, something finer and truer and more to Steve's heart's liking, in Beth's eyes as she answered him softly.



"Nay, my Steve, but because you are—a man."



Steve took her into his arms. It was a moment worth waiting for, a dream worth all he had experienced.For her nearness warmed him with a promise of happiness to come, even through the long and arduous days which lay before them.