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

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SKYLARK OF VALERON

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

-2-

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

-3-

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. One-

milligram 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,

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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.

-5-

"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."

-6-

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.

-7-

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

-8-

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.

-9-

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

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-1-SKYLARKOFVALERONByEdwardE.Smith,Ph.D.Copyright,1934,1935,byStreet&SmithPublications,Inc.Copyright,1949,byEdwardE.Smith,Ph.D.1DOCTORDUQUESNE'SRUSEDayafterdayasphericalspace-shipofArenaktorethroughtheillimitablereachesoftheinterstellarvoid.ShehadoncebeenawarvesselofOsnome;now,rechristenedtheViolet,...

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