Smith,E E 'Doc' - Skylark 3 - Skylark Of Valeron

SKYLARK OF VALERON

By Edward E. Smith, Ph.D.

Copyright, 1934, 1935, by Street & Smith Publications, Inc.

Copyright, 1949, by Edward E. Smith, Ph.D.

1 DOCTOR DUQUESNE'S RUSE

Day after day a spherical space-ship of Arenak tore through the illimitable

reaches of the

interstellar void. She had once been a war vessel of Osnome; now, rechristened

the

Violet, she was bearing two Tellurians and a Fenachrone-Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne

of

World Steel, "Baby Doll" Loring, his versatile and accomplished assistant, and

the squat

and monstrous engineer of the flagship Y427W -- from the Green system toward

the

solar system of the Fenachrone. The mid-point of the stupendous flight had

long since

been passed; the Violet had long been braking down with a negative

acceleration of five

times the velocity of light.

Much to the surprise of both DuQuesne and Loring, their prisoner had not made

the

slightest move against them. He had thrown all the strength of his

supernaturally powerful

body and all the resources of his gigantic brain into the task of converting

the atomic

motors of the Violet into the space-annihilating drive of his own race. This

drive, affecting

alike as it does every atom of substance within the radius of action of the

power bar,

entirely nullifies the effect of acceleration, so that the passengers feel no

motion

whatever, even when the craft is accelerating at maximum.

The engineer had not shirked a single task, however arduous. And, once under

way, he

had nursed those motors along with every artifice known to his knowing clan;

he had

performed such prodigies of adjustment and tuning as to raise by a full two

per cent their

already inconceivable maximum acceleration. Nor was this all. After the first

moment of

rebellion, he did not even once attempt to bring to bear the almost

irresistible hypnotic

power of his eyes; the immense, cold, ruby-lighted projectors of mental energy

which,

both men knew, were awful weapons indeed. Nor did he even once protest against

the

attractors which were set upon his giant limbs.

Immaterial bands, these, whose slight force could not be felt unless the

captor so willed.

But let the prisoner make one false move, and those tiny beams of force would

instantly

become copper-driven rods of pure energy, hurling the luckless wight against

the wall of

the control room and holding him motionless there, in spite of the most

terrific exertions

of his mighty body.

DuQuesne lay at ease in his seat; or rather, scarcely touching the seat, he

floated at

ease in the air above it. His black brows were drawn together, his black eyes

were hard

-1-

as he studied frowningly the Fenachrone engineer. As usual, that worthy was

half inside

the power plant, coaxing those mighty engines to do even better than their

prodigious

best.

Feeling his companion's eyes upon him, the doctor turned his inscrutable stare

upon

Loring, who had been studying his chief even as DuQuesne had been studying the

outlander. Loring's cherubic countenance was as pinkly innocent as ever, his

guileless

blue eyes as calm and untroubled; but DuQuesne, knowing the man as he did,

perceived

an almost imperceptible tension and knew that the killer also was worried.

"What's the matter, Doll?" The saturnine scientist smiled mirthlessly. "Afraid

I'm going to

let that ape slip one over on us?"

"Not exactly." Loring's slight tenseness, however, disappeared. "It's your

party, and

anything that's all right with you tickles me half to death. I have known all

along you knew

that that bird there isn't working under compulsion. You know as well as I do

that nobody

works that way because they're made to. He's working for himself, not for us,

and I had

just begun to wonder if you weren't getting a little late in clamping down on

him."

"Not at all-there are good and sufficient reasons for this apparent delay. I

am going to

clamp down on him in exactly"-DuQuesne glanced at his wrist watch-"fourteen

minutes.

But you're keen-you've got a brain that really works-maybe I'd better give you

the whole

picture."

DuQuesne, approving thoroughly of his iron-nerved, cold-blooded assistant,

voiced again

the thought he had expressed once before, a few hours out from Earth; and

Loring

answered as he had then, in almost the same words-words which revealed truly

the

nature of the man:

"Just as you like. Usually I don't want to know anything about anything,

because what a

man doesn't know he can't be accused of spilling. Out here, though, maybe I

should

know enough about things to act intelligently in case of a jam. But you're the

doctor-if

you'd rather keep it under your hat, that's all right with me, too. As I've

said before, it's

your party."

"Yes; he certainly is working for himself." DuQuesne scowled blackly. "Or,

rather, he

thinks he is. You know I read his mind back there, while he was unconscious. I

didn't get

all I wanted to, by any means-he woke up too soon but I got a lot more than he

thinks I

did.

"They have detector zones, 'way out in space, all around their world, that

nothing can get

past without being spotted; and patrolling those zones there are scout ships,

carrying

armament to stagger the imagination. I intend to take over one of those patrol

ships and

-2-

by means of it to capture one of their first-class battleships. As a first

step I'm going to

hypnotize that ape and find out absolutely everything be knows. When I get

done with

him, he'll do exactly what I tell him to, and nothing else."

"Hypnotize him?" Curiosity was awakened in even Loring's incurious mind at

this

unexpected development. "I didn't know that was one of your specialties."

"It wasn't until recently, but the Fenachrone are all past masters, and I

learned about it

from his brain. Hypnosis is a wonderful science. The only drawback is that his

mind is a

lot stronger than mine. However, I have in my kit, among other things, a tube

of

something that will cut him down to my size."

"Oh, I see-pentabarb" With this hint, Loring's agile mind grasped instantly

the essentials

of DuQuesne's plan. "That's why you had to wait so long, then, to take steps.

Pentabarb

kills in twenty-four hours, and he can't help us steal the ship after he's

dead."

"Right! One milligram, you know, will make a gibbering idiot out of any human

being; but I

imagine that it will take three or four times that much to soften him down to

the point

where I can work on him the way I want to. As I don't know the effects of such

heavy

dosages, since he's not really human, and since he must be alive when we go

through

their screens, I decided to give him the works exactly six hours before we are

due to hit

their outermost detector. That's about all I can tell you right now; I'll have

to work out the

details of seizing the ship after I have studied his brain more thoroughly."

Precisely at the expiration of the fourteen allotted minutes, DuQuesne

tightened the

attractor beams, which had never been entirely released from their prisoner;

thus pinning

him helplessly, immovably, against the wall of the control room. He then

filled a

hypodermic syringe and moved the mechanical educator nearer the motionless,

although

violently struggling, creature. Then, avoiding carefully the baleful

outpourings of those

name-shot volcanoes of hatred that were the eyes of the Fenachrone, he set the

dials of

the educator, placed the headsets, and drove home the needle's hollow point.

Onemilligram

of the diabolical compound was absorbed, without appreciable lessening of the

blazing defiance being hurled along the educator's wires. One and one-half -

two

milligrams-three-four-five

That inhumanly powerful mind at last began to weaken, but it became entirely

quiescent

only after the administration of the seventh milligram of that direly potent

drug.

"Just as well that I allowed only six hours." DuQuesne sighed in relief as he

began to

explore the labyrinthine intricacies of the frightful brain now open to his

gaze. "I don't see

how any possible form of life can hold together long under seven milligrams of

that stuff."

He fell silent and for more than an hour he studied the brain of the engineer,

-3-

concentrating upon the several small portions which contained knowledge of

most

immediate concern. Finally he removed the headsets.

"His plans were all made," he informed Loring coldly, "and so are mine, now.

Bring out

two full outfits of clothing -one of yours and one of mine. Two guns, belts,

and so on.

Break out a bale of waste, the emergency candles, and all that sort of stuff

you can

find."

DuQuesne turned to the Fenachrone, who stood utterly lax, and stared deep into

those

dull and expressionless eyes.

"You," he directed crisply, "will build at once, as, quickly as you can, two

dummies which

will look exactly like Loring and myself. They must be lifelike in every

particular, with

faces capable of expressing the emotions of surprise and of anger, and with -

right arms

able to draw weapons upon a signal-my signal. Also upon signal their heads and

bodies

will turn, they will leap toward the center of the room, and they will' make

certain noises

and utter certain words, the records of which I shall prepare. Go to it!"

"Don't you need to control him through the headsets?" asked Loring curiously.

"I may have to control him in detail when we come to the really fine work,

later on,"

DuQuesne replied absently. "This is more or less in the nature of an

experiment, to find

out whether I have him thoroughly under control. During the last act he'll

have to do

exactly what I shall have told him to do, without supervision, and I want to

be absolutely

certain that he will do it without a slip."

"What's the plan-or maybe it's something that is none of my business?"

"No; you ought to know it, and I've got time to tell you about it now. Nothing

material can

possibly approach the planet of the Fenachrone without being seen, as it is

completely

surrounded by never less than two full-sphere detector screens; and to make

assurance

doubly sure our engineer there has installed a mechanism which, at the first

touch of the

outer screen, will shoot a warning along a tight communicator beam directly

into the

receiver of the nearest Fenachrone scout ship. As you already know, the

smallest of

those scouts can burn this ship out of the ether in less than a second."

"That's a cheerful picture. You still think we can get away?"

"I'm coming to that. We can't possibly get through the detectors without being

challenged, even if I tear out all his apparatus, so we're going to use his

whole plan, but

for our benefit instead of his. Therefore his present hypnotic state and the

dummies.

When we touch that screen you and I are going to be hidden. The dummies will

be in sole

charge, and our prisoner will be playing the part I've laid out for him.

-4-

"The scout ship that he calls will come up to investigate. They will bring

apparatus and

attractors to bear to liberate the prisoner, and the dummies will try to

fight. They will be

blown up or burned to cinders almost instantly, and our little playmate will

put on his

space suit and be taken across to the capturing vessel. Once there, he will

report to the

commander.

"That officer will think the affair sufficiently serious to report it directly

to headquarters. If

he doesn't, this ape here will insist upon reporting it to general

headquarters himself. As

soon as that report is in, we, working through our prisoner here, will proceed

to wipe out

the crew of the ship and take it over."

"And do you think he'll really do it?" Loring's guileless face showed doubt,

his tone was

faintly skeptical.

"I know he'll do it!" The chemist's voice was hard. "He won't take any active

part-I'm not

psychologist enough to know whether I could drive him that far, even drugged,

against an

unhypnotizable subconscious or not-but hell be carrying something along that

will enable

me to do it, easily and safely. But that's about enough of this chin music-

we'd better start

doing something."

While Loring brought spare clothing and weapons, and rummaged through the

vessel in

search of material suitable for the dummies' fabrication, the Fenachrone

engineer worked

rapidly at his task. And not only did he work rapidly, he worked skillfully

and artistically as

well. This artistry should not be surprising, for to such a mentality as must

necessarily be

possessed by the chief engineer of a first-line vessel of the Fenachrone, the

faithful

reproduction of anything capable of movement was not a question of art-it was

merely an

elementary matter of line, form, and mechanism.

Cotton waste was molded into shape, reenforced, and wrapped in leather under

pressure. To the bodies thus formed were attached the heads, cunningly

constructed of

masticated fiber, plastic, and wax. Tiny motors and many small pieces of

apparatus

were installed, and the completed effigies were dressed and armed.

DuQuesne's keen eyes studied every detail of the startlingly lifelike, almost

microscopically perfect, replicas of himself and his traveling companion.

"A good job," he commented briefly.

"Good?" exclaimed Loring. "It's perfect! Why, that dummy would fool my own

wife, if I

had one-it almost fools me!"

"At least, they're good enough to pass a more critical test than any they are

apt to get

during this coming incident."

-5-

Satisfied, DuQuesne turned from his scrutiny of the dummies and went to the

closet in

which had been stored the space suit of the captive. To the inside of its

front protector

flap he attached a small and inconspicuous flat-sided case. He then measured

carefully,

with a filar micrometer, the apparent diameter of the planet now looming so

large

beneath them.

"All right, Doll; our time's getting short. Break out our suits and test them,

will you, while I

give the big boy his final instructions?"

Rapidly those commands flowed over the wires of the mechanical educator, from

DuQuesne's hard, keen brain into the now docile mind of the captive. The

Earthly

scientist explained to the Fenachrone, coldly, precisely, and in minute

detail, exactly what

he was to do and exactly what he was to say from the moment of encountering

the

detector screens of his native planet until after he had reported to his

superior officers.

Then the two Terrestrials donned their own armor and made their way into an

adjoining

room, a small armory in which were hung several similar suits and which was a

veritable

arsenal of weapons.

"We'll hang ourselves up on a couple of these hooks, like the rest of the

suits,"

DuQuesne explained. "This is the only part of the performance that may be even

slightly

risky, but there is no real danger that they will spot us. That fellow's

message to the

scout ship will tell them that there are only two of us, and we'll be out

there with him,

right in plain sight.

"If by any chance they should send a party aboard us they would probably not

bother to

search the Violet at all carefully, since they will already know that we

haven't got a thing

worthy of attention; and they would of course suppose us to be empty space

suits.

Therefore keep your lens shields down, except perhaps for the merest crack to

see

through, and, above all, don't move a millimeter, no matter what happens."

"But how can you manipulate your controls without moving your hands?"

"I can't; but my hands will not be in the sleeves, but inside the body of the

suit-shut up!

Hold everything-there's the flash!"

The flying vessel had gone through the zone of feeble radiations which

comprised the

outer detector screen of the Fenachrone. But, though tenuous, that screen was

highly

efficient, and at its touch there burst into frenzied activity the

communicator built by the

captive to be actuated by that very impulse. It had been built during the long

flight through

space, and its builder had thought that its presence would be unnoticed and

would

remain unsuspected by the Terrestrials.

-6-

Now automatically put into action, it laid a beam to the nearest scout ship of

the

Fenachrone and into that vessel's receptors it passed the entire story of the

Violet and

her occupants. But DuQuesne had not been caught napping. Reading the

engineer's

brain and absorbing knowledge from it, he had installed a relay which would

flash to his

eyes an inconspicuous but unmistakable warning of the first touch of the

screen of the

enemy. The flash had come-they had penetrated the outer lines of the monstrous

civilization of the dread and dreaded Fenachrone.

In the armory DuQuesne's hands moved slightly inside his shielding armor, and

out in the

control room the dummy, that was also to all outward seeming DuQuesne, moved

and

spoke. It tightened the controls of the attractors, which had never been

entirely released

from their prisoner, thus again pinning the Fenachrone helplessly against the

wall.

"Just to be sure you don't try to start anything," it explained coldly, in

DuQuesne's own

voice and tone. "You have done well so far, but I'll run things myself from

now on, so that

you can't steer us into a trap. Now tell me exactly how to go about getting

one of your

vessels. After we get it I'll see about letting you go."

"Fools, you are too late!” the prisoner roared exultantly. "You would have

been too late,

even had you killed me out there in space and had fled at your utmost

acceleration. Did

you but know it you are as dead, even now-our patrol is upon you!"

The dummy that was DuQuesne whirled, snarling, and its automatic pistol and

that of its

fellow dummy were leaping out when an awful acceleration threw them flat upon

the

floor, a magnetic force snatched away their weapons, and a heat ray of

prodigious

power reduced the effigies to two small piles of gray ash. Immediately

thereafter a beam

of force from the patrollin cruiser neutralized the attractors bearing upon

the captive and,

after donning his space suit, he was transferred to the Fenachrome vessel.

Motionless inside his cubby, DuQuesne waited until the airlocks of the

Fenachrome

vessel had closed behind his erstwhile prisoner; waited until that luckless

monster had

told his story to Fenor, his emperor, and to Fenimol, his general in command;

waited until

the communicator circuit had been broken and the hypnotized, drugged, and

already

dying creature had turned as though to engage his fellows in conversation.

Then only did

the saturnine scientist act. His finger closed a circuit, and in the

Fenachrome vessel,

inside the front protector flap of the discarded space suit, the flat case

fell apart

noiselessly and from it there gushed forth volume upon volume of colorless and

odorless,

but intensely lethal, vapor.

“Just like killing goldfish in a bowl.” Callous, hard, and cold, DuQuesne

exhibited no

emotion whatever; neither pity for the vanquished foe not elation at the

perfect working

out of his plans. “Just in case some of them might have been wearing suits for

emergencies, I had some explosive copper ready to detonate, but this makes it

much

-7-

better-the explosion might have damaged something we want."

And aboard the vessel of the Fenachrone, DuQuesne's deadly gas diffused with

extreme

rapidity, and as it diffused, the hellish crew to the last man dropped in

their tracks. They

died not knowing what had happened to them; died with no thought of even

attempting to

send out an alarm; died not even knowing that they died.

-8-

2 PLAN XB 218

Can you open the airlocks of that scout ship from the outside, doctor?" asked

Loring, as

the two adventurers came out of the armory into the control room, where

DuQuesne, by

means of the attractors, began to bring the two vessels together.

"Yes. I know everything that the engineer of a first-class battleship knew. To

him, one of

these little scouts was almost beneath notice, but he did know that much about

them –

the outside controls of all Fenachrome ships work the same way."

Under the urge of the attractors the two ships of space were soon door to

door.

DuQuesne set the mighty beams to lock the craft immovably together and both

men

stepped into the Violet's airlock. Pumping back the air, DuQuesne opened the

outer door,

then opened both outer and inner doors of the scout.

As he opened the inner door the poisoned atmosphere of the vessel screamed out

into

space, and as soon as the frigid gale had subsided the raiders entered the

control room

of the enemy craft. Hardened and conscienceless killer though Loring was, the

four

bloated, ghastly objects that had once been men gave him momentary pause.

"Maybe we shouldn't have let the air out so fast," he suggested, tearing his

gaze away

from the grisly sight.

"The brains aren't hurt, and that's all I care about." Unmoved, DuQuesne

opened the air

valves wide, and not until the roaring blast had scoured every trace of the

noxious vapor

from the whole ship did he close the airlock doors and allow the atmosphere to

come

again to normal pressure and temperature.

"Which ship are you going to use-theirs or our own?" asked Loring, as he began

to

remove his cumbersome armor.

"I don't know yet. That depends largely upon what I find out from the brain of

the

lieutenant in charge of this patrol boat. There are two methods .by which we

can capture

a battleship; one requiring the use of the Violet, the other the use of this

scout. The

information which I am about to acquire will enable me to determine which of

the two

plans entails the lesser amount of risk.

"There is a third method of procedure, of course; that is, to go back to Earth

and

duplicate one of their battleships ourselves, from the knowledge I shall have

gained from

their various brains concerning the apparatus, mechanisms, materials, and

weapons of

the Fenachrone. But that would take a long time and would be far from certain

of

success, because there would almost certainly be some essential facts that I

would not

have secured. Besides, I came out here to get one of their first-line space

ships, and I

-9-

intend to do it."

With no sign of distaste DuQuesne coupled his brain to that of the dead

lieutenant of the

Fenachrone through the mechanical educator, and quite as casually as though he

were

merely giving Loring another lesson in Fenachrone matters did he begin

systematically to

explore the intricate convolutions of that fearsome brain. But after only ten

minutes' study

he was interrupted by the brazen clang of the emergency alarm. He flipped off

the power

of the educator, discarded his headset, acknowledged the call, and watched the

recorder as it rapped out its short, insistent message.

"Something is going on here that was not on my program," he announced to the

alert but

quiescent Loring. "One should always be prepared for the unexpected, but this

may run

into something cataclysmic. The Fenachrone are being attacked from space, and

all

armed forces have been called into a defensive formation-Invasion Plan XB218,

whatever

that is. I'll have to look it up in the code."

The desk of the commanding officer was a low, heavily built cabinet of metal.

DuQuesne

strode over to it, operated rapidly the levers and dials of its combination

lock, and took

from one of the compartments the "Code"-a polygonal framework of engraved

metal

bars and sliders, resembling somewhat an Earthly multiplex squirrel-cage slide

rule.

"X-B-Two-One-Eight." Although DuQuesne had never before seen such an

instrument,

the knowledge taken from the brains of the dead officers rendered him

perfectly familiar

with it, and his long and powerful fingers set up the indicated defense plan

as rapidly and

as surely as those of any Fenachrone could have done it. He revolved the

mechanism in

his hands, studying every plane surface, scowling blackly in concentration.

"Munition plants-shall-so-and-so-We don't care about that. Reserves-zones-

ordnancecommissary-

defensive screens . . . Oh, here we are! Scout ships. Instead of patrolling a

certain volume of space, each scout ship takes up a fixed post just inside the

outer

detector zone. Twenty times as many on duty, too-enough so that they will be

only about

ten thousand miles apart-and each ship is to lock high-power detector screens

and

visiplate and recorder beams with all its neighbors.

"Also, there is to be a first-class battleship acting as mother ship,

protector, and reserve

for each twenty-five scouts. The nearest one is to be-Let's see, from here

that would be

only about twenty thousand miles over that way and about a hundred thousand

miles

down."

"Does that change your plans, chief?"

"Since my plans were not made, I cannot say that it does -it changes the

background,

however, and introduces an element of danger that did not previously exist. It

makes it

-10-

impossible to go out through the detector zone-but it was practically

impossible before,

and we have no intention of going out, anyway, until we possess a vessel

powerful

enough to go through any barrage they can lay down. On the other hand, there

is bound

to be a certain amount of confusion in placing so many vessels, and that fact

Smith, E E 'Doc' - Skylark 3 - Skylark Of Valeron

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