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Read Ebook: Princo Vanc' by Bates Arlo Putnam Eleanor Harris Herbert Translator
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Ebook has 124 lines and 5368 words, and 3 pages
"I'm getting to it. And this is the part that's frightening. About a month ago, in my own home, I set up a secret Cerebro-Scanner. Know what that is?"
"Never heard of it."
"It's new, and plenty dangerous in the wrong hands. Works on a ray principle. Produces elaborate graphs of an individual's mental and emotional co-ordinates. Well, on a secret wave-length I probed the minds of my fellow Council Members!" Mark smiled. "Yes, I'd probably receive sentence of death if they knew, but the end justified the means. Ketrik, the resulting graphs reveal that the cerebro-thalamic co-ordinates of the Council Members do not vary in the slightest! They are the same down to ten decimal points!"
Ketrik gestured helplessly. "Is this important?"
Ketrik nodded. Then he asked the obvious question.
"Did you employ this Scanner on yourself?"
"To make the record complete--yes! Needless to say, this tenacity of purpose concerning Perlac is utterly missing from my own mental co-ordinates."
"Hmm. How do you account for that?"
Ketrik nodded slowly. "Yes, son, and you're right! It even begins to scare me a little. Suppose Dar Vaajo in some way has gained control of those eleven minds--is that what you mean? But why Dar Vaajo?"
"And could you learn nothing from him?"
Ketrik was aghast. "What has the Council done?"
"Nothing, of course!" Mark laughed bitterly. "They're pre-occupied with Perlac! I've personally contacted Dar Vaajo on the Ethero-Magnum. He expresses regret and puzzlement, offers every aid in tracing the disappearing ships. But there's an under-current of evasion. As a desperate measure I sent two secret operatives to Mars."
"Good," Ketrik nodded his approval. "They get through all right?"
"Yes, apparently just in time. Dar Vaajo has thrown a close guard about the planet. Anyway, my operatives managed to set up a communications base in the wilds of the K'Mari Range, half a day's flight from Turibek, capital of South Mars. I've contacted them twice. They report strange activities at Turibek, something in the nature of a vast scientific experiment! And another thing. Dar Vaajo apparently has made a truce with the Rajecs."
"The Rajecs! Those Martian Outlanders?" Ketrik's face was dark with real concern. This news seemed to affect him more than anything Mark had said.
"We've really never learned much about those strange desert tribes," Mark went on. "But--"
They spent much of that night in going over their plans. Ketrik had no misapprehensions about landing on Mars; he could do that despite Vaajo's patrols. Turibek presented the real problem.
Carefully he perused the tele-strip recordings from Mark's operatives, E-39 and EV-5. There had only been two reports, and they were brief.
"This last one was sent two weeks ago," Mark said, "and I haven't been able to contact them since. The channel's dead. I'm afraid it means their hide-out was discovered!"
Ketrik studied the rough map Mark had made, showing the location of the hide-out in the K'Mari Range, and its position from Turibek.
"This will help. I'll try to get over there, see if anything's left of their sending equipment. Then I want to make a try for the city. If I can get inside of Turibek, and maybe get a line on this scientific thing they're working up ... I was at Turibek eight years ago, and know it fairly well."
"Here's a photo-static air view," Mark said. "Afraid it doesn't show much."
"It shows one thing," Ketrik said, studying the film. "Dar Vaajo's had a wall built completely around the city. That wasn't there eight years ago! And those towers stationed around the wall--what do you suppose they are?"
"Control towers. That's an electronic wall! And you'll observe there's another within the city itself, surrounding that group of buildings which must be the laboratories. Ketrik--if you ever get in there...." His voice dwindled away in doubt.
"You don't think I can do it? I don't either, Mark--not as an Earthman!"
"Come. We'll fix that."
They passed through endless corridors, arrived finally at a large white-enameled room. It was complete with operating tables, instruments, plastics, ray-lamps--everything necessary to Earth's espionage system.
Ketrik stripped piecemeal, allowed every inch of his superbly muscled body to be subjected to the stinging Ulmo lamps. Gradually under the hot rays, the very pigmentation of his skin changed to the deep reddish-copper of a Martian. Mark proved himself an expert at this. Even the insides of Ketrik's ears did not escape the ray.
"Don't worry," Mark told him. "This will all wear off eventually."
"Yes? How long?"
"In about two years! Now, your eyes. You never saw a Martian with gray eyes. Look up just a moment."
A few drops of liquid, a harmless vegetable composition, changed Ketrik's eyes to a muddy golden color.
"Those bangs have got to come off!" Mark went to work in earnest. Ten minutes under another ray, and Ketrik's unruly hair was transformed into tight, crisp curls in keeping with the Martian fashion. His features presented the hardest problem, but Mark worked miracles with the plastics and equipment.
At last the job was done. When Ketrik surveyed himself in the mirror he saw a tall, somewhat arrogant Martian of the middle class, with slightly flaring nostrils, bulging cheek-bones and lips curving in a thin, cruel smile. He nodded, more than satisfied.
Mark consulted his wrist-chrono. "Four hours until dawn. Better grab a few hours' sleep, it may be your last for a while."
"Sure, but I'll rest better if I know one thing. Where's my ship?"
"My guards moved it secretly to the underground repair locks. Right now it's undergoing as radical a change as I just performed on you." Mark smiled. "When you leave Earth, it will be in a slow-powered ore freighter ostensibly bound for the Moon!"
An hour before the dawn, Mark wakened Ketrik. But Mark hadn't been idle in those hours. He handed the other a small, compact instrument.
"Here's a Scanner disc I just finished assembling. It only works within a very short range, but you may have need of it."
They took the swift tube-car across the city and arrived at the spaceport amidst surprising activity. A Callistan freighter had just berthed. Bright lights were trained upon it, men and trucks were moving about handling the cargo.
"I planned it for this hour," Mark explained, "because now less attention will be drawn to you. We can't be too careful." He pointed to a dark, far corner of the field where a clumsy bulk rested. "Believe it or not, that's your ship. The exterior's been changed but that's all. You still have the Frequency Tuner." They paused for a moment in solemn thought. "I can't impress upon you too much, Ketrik, what this--"
"That's right, Mark, you can't. So let's not mention it." Ketrik was brusque. "Believe me, son, I know what I'm up against."
Ketrik said simply, "You'll be hearing from me, Mark." He moved across the field, keeping to the shadows, the collar of his space tunic turned up. He wondered how many of the men working about this field were Martian "Specials." Some of them, surely. If he, an Earthman, could be molded into Martian guise, Dar Vaajo could certainly perform the same miracle in reverse and probably had.
He reached his ship undetected. All was dark and quiet. The hull, he noticed, had been painted solid black. He entered and flicked on the lights. Mark was right, nothing on the inside had been changed.
He explored the ship to make sure. Then he moved forward to the control-console, remembering that this was supposed to be a clumsy Moon freighter. The rockets roared. The ship moved with slow acceleration up the step locks, to finally catapult into the stratosphere.
And five minutes later, just as he was clearing Earth's gravity, he heard the voice behind him:
"Well, Ketrik, at last! Really--I thought you were never going to make it!"
Ketrik had long since learned caution in these matters. He turned slowly now and was glad he did. The first thing he saw was the gun--a powerful weapon, an electro. The fist wrapped around it looked firm and experienced. Ketrik's gaze went to the man's face.
It was the Captain of the Guard, the same captain who had met him at his landing eight hours before. The man was cold-eyed now. He kept a few paces away from Ketrik.
Ketrik said, "I searched the ship. Where were you?"
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