Part 1

Keeper of the Deathless Sleep

by Albert De Pina

Nardon, the Correlator, had banded together the greatest brains of the Solar System to battle the menace spawned by Saturn--was leading them into the stronghold of the Energasts themselves.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Winter 1944. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

_"We cannot fight," Antaran said. "Not now.... We must be patient a while longer. Venus still holds the secret of Vulcan base and without allotropic metal our fleet would be so much papier mache!" He fell silent._

_In the soft, smoky-blue twilight of the great subterranean room beneath the Universarium, Bill Nardon gazed expressionlessly at the angular austerity of the Council Leader's face, and remained silent._

_"Three more spacers today!" Antaran sank slowly into the yielding firmness of a priceless crysto-plast chair. "Disappeared...." He paused. "Must you have this hellish blue fog, Bill?" He frowned in distaste. Bill Nardon smiled slowly from where he lay on a great couch of alabastrine, utterly relaxed. "Would you rather have a mountain night, a summer twilight, or dawn?" His great shoulders shook a little with silent laughter until the mane of dark red hair that hung to his shoulders seemed to twinkle with pinpoints of light. He pressed a series of selectors on the back of the couch, and slowly a rosy light like a tardy dawn diffused through the room together with the smell of the sea. "Don't look so outraged, Antaran; that Spartan conditioning of yours is a tragedy!" The aged Council leader shrugged his shoulders._

_"Listen to me!" Antaran said brusquely. "Half a hundred thousand men and women from six planets cannot be hidden away like so much plunder. Sooner or later someone is bound to escape and give away the mystery. Yet months have passed and no trace of them has been found. Correlate that!"_

_He sniffed at the marvelously fresh odor of the sea and blinked at the rose-gold light of the static dawn as if it weren't a scientific and artistic miracle, but something not quite decent._

_"The loss in terms of life and treasure is negligible. It's what it purports in the long run that's serious. Already Venus has clamped down on shipments of radio-actives and Mars has declared limited martial law. No trade with Neptune is possible in the face of their embargo, and the European coalition of Terrans and Panadurs have closed their world! The logical development of this psychological state of nerves is...."_

_"War." Bill Nardon said softly, almost in a whisper that died in the faint sea-breeze that eddied about the room. For a long time there was silence, while the "Correlator" played with the selectors on the couch unaware of doing so in his profound absorption, and the tardy dawn faded into bright daylight which in turn gave way to the perfumed mystery of a starry night deep within the mountains and the odor of pine stole about the room. A ripple of music almost as soft as a sigh invaded the chamber, gathering in volume and poesy of melody like an enchanted lullaby to a wonder child or, a woman utterly beloved._

_When the "Correlator" came to, Antaran had gone._

* * * * *

The rain's silver curtain had lifted for some time--over an hour now--Bill Nardon mused. The blinding blueness of the skies was reflected on the satiny sheen of the platino-plastic structures of the spaceport, now glorious in its display of opulence for the benefit of the arriving delegations of five worlds. The Terran display of grandeur had been planned to increase with exquisite skill all the way to the _Universarium_.

Which in itself was a piece of effrontery, Bill thought with a sardonic smile, considering that with Earth, only six worlds were represented, which was far from being the Universe. Not to mention that each planet was sovereign, jealously and hypersensitively suspicious of the slightest encroachment upon their rights and domains. Bill was certainly aware of the fact that the word _Universarium_ would be a cause for resentment.

They were arriving now. Upon the gigantic Ethero-solidograph that covered an entire wall of the spacious room, deep in the bowels of the _Universarium_, Bill Nardon could see the great inter-planetary vessels emerge from outer space, where both space and time have but a remote and relative meaning, and flash like inter-stellar daggers into the outer fringe of the stratosphere.

"Warships! All of them!" He mused aloud, while the slightly satirical smile deepened, hovering on his square-cut lips, crinkling the corners of the long, strangely colored eyes--almost electric blue.

"Warships?" he mused.

Bill saw them extend lateral fins upon the icy fragility of the upper air, much as a bird extends its wings, and come shrieking through the tortured air in a mad race to be the first to land upon the expectant Earth. In great flawless spirals--beautiful beyond belief--they lost altitude, leaving behind a vortex of clouds boiling furiously at their passage. Venus was in the lead. Bill Nardon recognized the powerful cruiser by its insignia of a serpent biting its tail, fashioned of _Josmians_--Venusian pearls. Close behind it was Europa, with the insignia of a blazing Jupiter on its side; Neptune with its emblazoned shield of a tiered city, and little Mercury with the royal emblem of incandescent Sol. And at the very end, aloof, disdainful, the truly magnificent work of science and art that was the Martian vessel, which characteristically wore no emblem at all, and seemed to be content to be the last to arrive, so long as it kept from being contaminated by close contact with the races of other worlds than Mars.

A great swirl of ceremonial music rose from the immense spaceport, the cathedral-like architectonics weaving intricate patterns upwards to the skies as if to receive in an ocean of melody the arriving delegates.

Bill Nardon sighed, his task was about to begin. With a slight movement of his right hand, he touched the controls gleaming on the desk before him, and the scene at the spaceport rushed with vertiginous speed into close focus; still he was not satisfied, but continued to manipulate the Ethero-solidograph controls until the emerging occupants of the Venusian ship grew on the screen to life-size. With infinite care he studied and analyzed their faces, their exquisite fragile bodies with the long, membranous wings; noted the almost imperceptible shadow of baffled apprehension beneath the mask of imperturbability, and found--nothing. But that was to be expected. After all, of all the planets, Venus was the least warlike, which was fortunate indeed.

* * * * *

The tall, rangy Europans, offspring of Terran colonists, with their strange, silver-furred Panadur co-rulers, came next. Bill lingered over the Panadur leader, so strangely human in his four feet of upright, slender body, completely furred in gleaming silver fur to the very throat-line, with the delicate triangular face dominated by immense beryl eyes. Strange creatures of a world within a world, drawing their sustenance from the eerie radio-active caverns of their great Jupiterian satellite. The Neptunians were descendants of Earthmen too, but subtly changed by the awesome environment of their gigantic world.

The Mercurians were a problem in themselves. For of all the planets, theirs was a ruthless Matriarchy. The striding, uncompromising Amazons that emerged from that blunt, utilitarian-looking ship, were in themselves a promise of trouble. They gazed around them out of blazing dark eyes, and their metallic complexions seemed to flow oddly like quicksilver with their movements, as if their features were fluid. Only the eyes, hard, suspicious, expecting the worst, retained their unyielding character. When the Martians emerged, tall, tawny-haired, with their immense violet eyes and exaggeratedly narrow waists, that contrasted with their broad shoulders, it occurred to Bill that the least accident would precipitate an holocaust that would end in the most gigantic hecatomb the universe had ever seen. He shuddered to think what would happen if the least delegate were to meet with harm. From the very beginning, he had protested against this inter-planetary meeting on Terra, and great as his influence was, profound as the respect was in which his unique powers were held, the Council vote had been against him.

Still, Bill Nardon could not rid himself of the feeling that this was a wild goose chase, that nothing would be accomplished by a meeting of the highest dignitaries of the Inter-Planetary League--in short, that the great danger of an _accident_ that was being incurred was not only unnecessary--but futile, which was far worse.

Asprawl in the great hetero-plastic chair, his long legs extended, his superb torso completely relaxed, he looked as if even his great muscles would never again lift that magnificent body upright. But all the while his unique mind was absorbed in assembling multitudes of details and facts, coordinating and correlating psychological factors and psychic coordinates with the speed of thought into a clear picture which in the end proved--absolutely nothing. He was baffled. To the tragic problem which would soon be under discussion in the stupendous _Universarium_, expressly built for that momentous purpose, he would be able to bring precisely nothing.

For once he had failed. And Bill damned the cold efficiency of the Master Neurograph machine that had unerringly summarized his strange mental coordinates. For Bill's mind had the peculiar gift of being able to grasp a series of basic facts and from them deduce with supernal accuracy the individual answer to any _human_ problem. What took the great Philosophers in Psychiatry VI days, and weeks, and even months to solve, Bill Nardon could coordinate and give the correct answer to in hours, sometimes minutes.

There was nothing mysterious about it. Given enough time, Bill Nardon could have explained in detail how he could solve a particular problem in human equations--if he cared to, which he never did--it was merely a mental ratio of activity in the upper part of his brain, where the most involved and difficult thinking is done, many times greater than that of the normal human brain. To this was added an intensity and scope of _awareness_ surpassing any Neurographic records known. The result was the coordination of details, the synchronizing of factors--nay, _nuances_ so tenuous that they were non-existent to even the philosophical minds.

As a result, Bill Nardon had been immediately removed from his job as an explorer and transferred to Security I, answerable only to the very head of the Supreme Council itself.

To him it had been a tragedy. The ecstasy of the vast reaches of space; the illimitable freedom, birthright of explorers, the intimate communion with the stars had been transmuted into a guarded existence as if he were one of the most valuable factors in the security of Earth, which unquestionably he was. Every luxury, every whim even, was his to indulge, he could have anything ... literally anything, but freedom!

And now he had failed. In his sardonic mood he was glad that he had been unable to find even a tiny clue. In all that glittering, heterogenous assemblage Bill had not found even a slight _nuance_ to pounce upon. Involuntarily he shook his head, and the dark red mane that fell to his shoulders in the conventional style of the day, swirled about his shoulders, again he shook his head as if some almost imperceptible irritant were annoying him. And suddenly he sat upright, his eyes narrowed and steel-blue. In his intense absorption in the scene on the Ethero-solidograph, the elfin probing of his mind had gone unnoticed. A profound surprise mingled with the instant pointing of all his faculties as he became aware. That _anyone_ could penetrate his mental defenses was unthinkable!

* * * * *

Even before his awareness of peril was complete, Bill became a blur of motion that coiled and sprang erect. And the incredible shape that had launched itself with razor-like talons outspread unerringly for the sprawling Terran's throat thudded against iron-hard stomach muscles, over which a thin beryllium mesh tunic afforded protection. Almost at the very instant it struck, the creature launched itself again, with demoniacal fury, taloned hands reaching with super-human strength for the bared throat, its taloned feet trying to disembowel the Terran. Bill fought silently, driving a shattering blow to the open mouth with its gleaming fangs, with the other striving to keep it at arm's length. But the thing twisted with a sinuous motion and flung itself to one side, then leaped in again, driving like a tiger for the Terran legs, as Bill sprang to one side and then dived for the flashing creature.

Bill caught one of its legs and instantly it coiled back upon itself and fastened its fanged mouth upon his forearm. Only the invulnerable Beryllium mesh saved it from being fanged through; as it was, the awful pressure of those inhuman teeth was excruciating agony. In desperation Bill aimed another slashing blow at the maniacal face of the being, and saw it become indistinct with blood; using every ounce of strength at his command, the Earthman slowly forced back the face of the thing and with a convulsive movement shattered its vertebrae. When Bill released it, the creature dropped limp on the bloodied translucence of the Jadite flooring.

Reeling from fatigue, his body a mass of bruises, Bill methodically examined his attacker. It was about four feet tall, humanoid in shape, even as to features which were delicate--surprisingly beautiful in the repose of death. It had the face of a very beautiful woman in miniature. But there was nothing lovely about the competent taloned hands with their cording of steely muscles, or about the oddly shaped flexible feet--almost hands in themselves, like that of the now extinct apes of thousands of years back when Terra had been young. The body had evidently been evolved with a great simplicity of purpose--and, strangest of all, it was sexless!

And this was the thing that had been able to penetrate the defenses of his mind, almost succeeding in probing it without Bill being aware of it. In coordinating his findings, it occurred to Bill Nardon that this unholy creature was the nearest thing to a _homunculi_ he had ever known! But whence had it come? How correlate such a _mind of power_ with such utterly ruthless, coldly calculating ferocity.

Bill shivered a little, and it was not altogether from his recent exertions in defense of his life. Stretched upon the exquisite whiteness of the plastic Jadite flooring, there was an infinitely appealing beauty to its face in the ultimate sleep, as if it were a welcome repose. The light brown eyes still open mirrored sadness--that was the incredible fact. The mind that had tip-toed the shores of his consciousness with sandals of foam, was still. But Bill Nardon's mind recovered from the horror of the unexpected attack, felt even more the icy chill of failure as it sought factors and only found an impenetrable mystery instead.

"No planet ... no world known to me," and Bill had traveled half a galaxy in his time, "has spawned this creature. This," he paused, his eyes electric with excitement, "is a manufactured, an artificially evolved being! But who? Not the Martians surely; the Venusians? The Neptunians? No, no race in the entire six planets is capable of creating...." In the very midst of his soliloquy he paused startled. "The Panadurs! Only they with their strange powers could achieve such a miracle.... But would they? In all the annals of Europa there is no clue to the "Will to Conquer." Besides, to the Panadurs life was sacred...." His thoughts swirled feverishly, and, impenetrably, the mystery became more and more involved as the glittering assemblage of delegates from other worlds traveled to the great _Universarium_.

* * * * *

For a timeless moment of absolute silence, every being present stood with bowed head in reverence to the Absolute. Then they took their assigned places around the immense Council table grimly. The crisis was at hand.

When Bill Nardon entered, he was late, for the preliminaries, the usual diplomatic fencing and jockeying for favorable positions was over. The smouldering resentment of six belligerent worlds was frankly in the open.

Antaran, Head of the Supreme Council of Terra, presided at the head of the table--there had been no difficulty about that--as was his due as Host; but Venus and Mars had been diplomatically seated at his right and left, respectively, facing each other and with equal honors, where they could glare at each to their hearts' content. Neptune had been given the other end of the table facing Antaran, and to his right the Amazonian leader from Mercury. The balance of the delegates had been scattered around the council table interspersed cleverly with members of Terra's Council.

Bill saw instantly Antaran's anxious frown as he entered and caught the half-annoyed, half-anxious query at his lateness, telepathed in their secret code. He merely signalled, "Wait, Antaran!" and proceeded to stand behind the Terran Leader's chair as unobtrusively as possible. But it _had_ been an entrance! His stately height of six feet five inches, in the close fitting tunic of beryllium, the dark red mane of wavy hair falling to his shoulders, allied to the lateness of his coming, gave him an importance in the eyes of the visiting delegates which, just now, he would have liked to avoid.

But when Antaran arose, all eyes centered coldly upon the Council Leader. A sensuous fragrance of Venusian Jasmines wafted like an invisible presence as the Martian Leader insolently applied a gossamer handkerchief to his nostrils in defense of the odors of the other races, and the tiny, winged Venusian ambassador glared with scorn. The Amazonian being from Mercury clanked her power-rapier uneasily, while the tall Neptunian unconsciously touched his belt. Above them, the cathedral-like dome of the tremendous Hall of Planets rose until the graduating hues of its intricately carved Sapphirine plastic walls paled from translucent sapphire to aquamarine, to beryl to palest mauve, and then only the sheerest rose-gold or diffused sunlight where the intricate interlacing of arches was like a cob-web pattern in the distance.

"We are gathered here," Antaran began without preamble in his terse, icy voice, "to discuss a problem that threatens...." He paused as if not willing to voice the ghastly thought, "to plunge our Universe into suicidal strife, and engulf the magnificent fruits of inter-planetary civilization."

Bill Nardon while engaged in appraising the reactions of those present, couldn't help being amused with part of his mind at the Terran Leader's purple periods. "Dearly loves speeches!" He exclaimed mentally in the curious mental short-hand with which he was wont to soliloquize.

"Ship after inter-planetary ship has disappeared without trace somewhere in transit between the inner and outer planets.... That is," he amended, "the known outer planets which include uninhabited Jupiter and its uncolonized Moons, the great centers of civilization--Europa and Neptune. I cannot speak for Uranus which has only been partly explored, and those two unknown quantities, Pluto and especially Saturn, that planet of maddening contradictions on which no space vessel has been able to land. Thousands upon thousands of passengers, colonists of all races, and untold treasure has vanished into thin air, without trace. I submit," Antaran drew himself to his full skeletal height of over six feet, thin to the point of emaciation and austere in all the dignity of his two hundred years, "I submit that Terra is blameless--that the infamy of this outrage is surpassed only by the mystery of the purpose behind it all!" He stood grim and silent, with folded arms, his translucent gray eyes searching the faces before him.

And pandemonium broke loose! The Martian exquisite forgot his affected snobbishness and his perfumed handkerchief, and was shouting:

"The floor! Grant me the floor!"

While the blazing eyed virago from Mercury unceremoniously shoved the tall Neptunian aside and was bellowing in stentorian tones:

"I take the floor, Terran! I take the floor!"

* * * * *

Oddly enough, it was the tiny Panadur from Europa who eventually got it. He had leaped upon the Council table and stood immobile, sending powerful telepathic vibrations in utter silence, for his race was voiceless. Before the incredible power of that involved mind, the Terrans, the surpassingly telepathic Venusians, even the Martians gave way. Only the Mercurian creature bellowed still, until Antaran granted the floor to the Panadur. And the telepathic flood poured out. The being from Europa accounted for his world in no uncertain terms. To them life was sacred, and the last thing in the Universe they wanted was strife!

Planet after planet laid their cards on the table. Even Mars, for all their supercilious affectation, made a categorical denial. And as the mystery deepened, mutual suspicion flamed higher and higher. It was Venus that finally gave voice to what was in all their minds.

"After all, treasure is replaceable, great as the loss may be. But at least a dozen inter-planetary spacers built of the invulnerable metal from Vulcan have disappeared! A few more of such Venusian ships, and whatever planet is responsible will have a respectable fleet of the most deadly ships of space known to our Universe! Our inter-planetary treaty with Mars and Terra and Mercury gave us undisputed and undivined sovereignty over Vulcan Base and the invulnerable metal of its mines, because having in our grasp the conquest of Terra and Mars, we kept the peace! Now, after ages of adhering to the treaty, we are faced with virtual attack. We demand a solution!"

It was then that Bill decided it was high time to intervene. With a gesture he signalled to the outer arch of the Hall of Planets, while simultaneously he requested the floor. Antaran granted the request while a slight frown of puzzlement crinkled the pale, parchment-like brow crowned with snowy hair. And into the silent Hall came two ordine-plastic robots bearing between them a plastic box. They laid it on the floor, before the Council table and as silently withdrew. All eyes were centered on the plastic box, and the _personal_ vibrations of the delegates were overpowering, as Bill strode calmly towards the box and wordlessly opened the lid.

With one effortless gesture he lifted the inert and stiffening form of the _homunculi_ that had attacked him, and flung it into the center of the table. Even as they arose in amazement, he swept them with a bright, electric blue glare and with the unsuspected force of his tremendous mind-power he gave them a faithful, telephathic picture of what had occurred. They all saw it. The battle to the death; the creature's probing of his mind--_All!_

And there was no doubt as to its authenticity, the proof was before their eyes, and no mind--not even Bill Nardon's--could possible fake such a harrowing experience and bring before them the _corpus delicti_, not even through telekinesis!