Part 5
It was disappointing. In a concerted attack in eleven cities, thousands of Irreconcilables had emerged from the bowels of Neptune, striking upwards from the fifth levels of the cities, aided by crazed amnesiacs who fought with tooth and nail when no weapons were available. But it was Plastica that worried him most, for here was the strategic city they must capture at all costs. Unable to control his impatience any longer, he asked Perlac to contact Plastica. The girl's slender fingers played over the banked keys, adjusting tiny levers and driving home the activating selectors. Swirls of magnificent colors flooded the Telecast screen, while the ascending whine of the complex instrument went beyond the auditory limits of the human ear; and presently scene after scene of ghastly destruction showed on the telecast, the fifth level came and went a shattered welter; the fourth where destruction was appalling showed great rents in the crysto-plast dome that separated it from the third. There was fighting still in the second level, as isolated parties strove to decimate the remaining, fleeing Intermediates; the fallen forms of robot-proctors littered the conveyors and inter-connecting avenues, the carnage was incredible.
But it was in the first level itself where the battle without quarter was now taking place. Divisions of ordine-plastic robots charged great masses of Irreconcilables, only to be shattered in great waves as the electro-flash cannon, gift of Venus, disintegrated their electronic balance. Thousands of lurid flashes from atomo-rifles and atomo-cannons, laboriously hauled to the first level by the attackers, belched destruction at buildings laden with Intermediates and Second Level Scientists; aero-tanks with treads instead of landing gear, were attempting to settle on the vast first level, their atomo-cannon slashing at the attackers with great scimitars of lurid blue light. It was a titanic holocaust that would long live in the annals of the Universe, for Venus, Mars, Mercury and Europa had their Tele-Magnums trained on the fantastic struggle.
And then the face of the Commander of the Irreconcilables attacking Plastica, showed on the Telecast, a great gash over an eye still oozing a gout of blood that trickled down the left side of his face. Grim, with an awful determination in his young eyes, the Commander spoke hoarsely. "Commander Guerlan, we need aircraft to engage the aero-tanks. Plastica is surrounded without the crysto-plast dome, and thousands of Inner Circle Scientists await the precise moment to enter in their Treaders and annihilate us. In reaching the first level, our losses have been too great, Commander!" He saluted and the face withdrew, as if having delivered his message there were nothing more to be said.
"Carladin," Guerlan's voice was vibrant with pent-up emotion, "you've brought with you eight-hundred atomo-spacers better than anything the Inner Circle has, if the speed and strength of Perlac's atomo-spacer is a sample. There is _your_ task!"
* * * * *
"Not mine, Commander!" There was an edge of keen delight in the superb baritone voice of the tiny, winged figure. "I also brought with me a great warrior of space to lead my fleet. I have another task I shall relish even more! In one of my spacers, the flag-ship, are the hounds of Mother Venus, with which we hunt in the great virgin forests. One to each member of a battalion of my people ... on a fragile leash! I shall communicate with my fleet immediately, may I take one of the emergency planes?" And as Guerlan nodded assent, Carladin was gone.
Guerlan wondered what the Venusian had meant by the hounds of Venus, but he was too preoccupied with the battle to care, all that mattered was that he was willing to use his fleet in accordance with the plan.
"Gloriana calling.... Gloriana calling Commander Guerlan...." The monotonous iteration and reiteration of the announcer demanded attention. Perlac touched a bank of jet black keys as Guerlan said:
"Come in Gloriana, report, we're listening!"
"Gloriana reports a stalemate. We have gained second level, almost took the first, but the fleet is above the first level, we can't combat it. All levels cleared but the first. Gloriana sounding off."
Other reports came in, but still Guerlan waited for the one thing that was imperative. And at last, through an eternity of waiting, Columbia came on the Ethero-Magnum, then like bursting flowers of fire, the atomic flashes from the emerging atomo-spacers of Venus as they launched themselves straight up into the heavens through the vertical funnel-like channel that rose from the caverns, straight up into the upper reaches of the first level. Spacer after spacer soared aloft and disappeared in the direction of Plastica. All but the last. It rose majestically upward and then, describing a parabola in midair, began to lose altitude, its atomic flashes like falling stars.
And then began the most bizarre attack in the history of six planets, for as the fleet attacked the swarm of atomo-fighters and aero-tanks of the Inner Circle, the last Venusian spacer had landed outside Plastica, and a multitude of Venusians each one leading a gigantic _Calamar_, the dreaded, armored tiger of Venus, launched themselves upon the besieging Scientists of the Inner Circle that awaited the propitious moment to enter Plastica during the battle and destroy the Irreconcilables by an attack from their rear.
The roar of the ravenous beasts was a crescendo that drowned the wild, agonized screams of the scientists as mammoth claws ripped through plastic-breast plates and Venusian silks, and fangs found fat throats and steaming blood. Overhead the clash of the two air armadas was a holocaust of fire, as the two armies beneath fought also for supremacy on the first level.
What the outcome would be, was beyond prediction, for neither side entertained any doubt now but that it was a struggle to the death--there could be no quarter. If Plastica fell, most of the Empire went with it, for within it was the very life-blood of the nation--Plastics, the beginning, the reason and the end of their existence. For plastics were clothing and shelter, and weapons and furniture, and even medicines and synthetic concentrates that went under the name of food. Besides, they had Columbia, where the sustenance of the City of the Sphere and the first levels was grown and manufactured.
Slowly at first, imperceptibly, the battle turned in their favor, objectives that seemed unattainable were reached by the Irreconcilables, and the defenders fell back. The invulnerable fleet, the much touted and dreaded air armada, as being decimated by the unearthly speed of the Venusian spacers; and Intermediates and robots alike fell before the supernal fire of the electro-flash cannon and electro-rifles. Still, the battle wore on and on, with such an intensity that it was incredible that anything that lived could endure it. Without Plastica itself, a horror of carnage, blasted Calamars and torn bodies, marked where the Inner Circle Reserves had been, but Caladin's spacer was nowhere in view.
"The time," Perlac said softly, "has come, my dear."
* * * * *
Guerlan gazed at the exquisite features of Perlac in misery. He was silent. But the girl laid a hand on his shoulder caressingly, and forced him to look into her eyes. "We must face it, Guerlan, unless we do, this war may last for years, and oceans of blood will flow. It is the better way."
"I know, I know Perlac. But let me do it alone. I can't ... I just can't bear to have you risk your life, my dear." Impulsively he crushed her to him in a fierce embrace and kissed the flower-like mouth. Then he released her.
"I will be in less danger than you; after all I am Bejamel's daughter. And don't you think that I, too, could not bear to have you go alone? No, dear, we are in this together, for life or for death."
As if the gods of war relished the appalling daring of their plan, suddenly the way was opened to them, for on the immense Tele-Magnum, the heavenly tones of Bejamel's voice could be heard, as slowly, his gargoyle face came into view. Hurriedly Perlac threw the switch which prevented him at the Palace on the Sphere from seeing them.
"Commander Guerlan! Bejamel, Minister of Justice, speaks." There were rich undertones of irony, and bitterness, too, in the superlative voice of the speaker.
"I have learned that my daughter is your prisoner. We have captured important prisoners, too. Paulan, your ex-leader, and that misguided Martian who has chosen to espouse your cause. But all this is of no moment, I am willing to ransom my daughter on your own terms, barbarian!" Even in his grief, Bejamel was unable to suppress the insulting epithet.
"What do you offer, Bejamel?" Guerlan spoke calmly, although a seething maelstrom swirled within him. "But make your offer worth listening to, I have no time for barter."
"A thousand prisoners of war, and a coffer of jewels, Guerlan!"
Guerlan laughed shortly. "Your fame for sagacity has been overrated, Bejamel, the jewels ... we shall shortly make our own--The Ultimate Presence knows there will be enough dead when this is over. As for the prisoners," his voice became indifferent, "we'll take them, of course, but we have more men than we need, Scientist. Offer me something beyond my means and I'll send your daughter to you, unharmed!"
"Speak, Dissenter, I am a man of reason!" Bejamel's voice was filled with cunning. "Speak!"
"Since you are the only one who can open His Benevolence's doors, outside of the mechanism he can activate from within, destroy the mechanism. Take away his invulnerable robe of force, and then ... then forget to sing! Let him starve slowly in his enchanted garden, after he has devoured all his birds and pets." Guerlan's laughter was mocking. But within he was tense with anxiety. Would his strategy win, he wondered? One could not deal in a normal manner with Bejamel.
"Agreed!" The celestial voice had risen to limpid heights.
The fleets of atomo-spacers and aero-tanks stood poised, withdrawn, marking an invisible, aerial lane through which hurtled the slim, silver flash of an atomo-plane. The most powerful Tele-Magnum in the palace of His Benevolence was focused on that ship, without pause, until every detail of its interior was exposed on the great tele-screen at the palace. But its interior revealed only the pale, haggard face of Perlac, inexpressibly lovely in its sadness, and motionless beside her, the gigantic robot-proctor of bery-plastic, embossed with the insignia of the House of Justice and Bejamel's own intricate emblem. It had been sent to act as a guard and bring her unharmed to the palace.
Forming a perfect target, a trio of transports carrying a thousand Irreconcilables, prisoners of war, came from the opposite direction, released from the City of the Sphere, as per agreement. The vessels neared each other, crossed and passed en-route to their opposite destinations. At last, Perlac's plane reached the outer air-locks of the Sphere, where pressure was adjusted, and entering ships were guided to their berths at the base of the immense globe, where the machinery of the anti-gravity repulsor beams was housed also, and where the glittering tiers rose upward to end at the great Hanging Gardens of His Benevolence, where the palace stood.
And then the armistice was broken. Hundreds of swift, deadly interceptor planes, atomo-powered, dived after the retreating transport; tremendous aero-tanks rushed in for the kill spewing a blaze of livid radiations. One of the transports managed to dive into the inter-connecting, ascending and descending chamber of the city, but the others, trapped, rather than be rayed like sheep, courageously turned and fought. But to no avail. Outside the tropical city of Columbia, they crashed in great flaming gouts, like miniature volcanoes.
* * * * *
Ahead of Perlac and her robot-proctor was the City of the Sphere. Majestically it blazed like a cosmic jewel against the impenetrably-black backdrop of space. It grew immense, fantastic, like a minor planet glowing in space, but suddenly, their speed slackened as the robot-control began to decelerate; and presently they slid with a vast hiss into the first airlock, where the synchronized magnetic fields instantly checked their speed. A terrific force jarred them until their bones seem to melt, then doors were opening, voices could be heard shouting orders, and the official pilot entered the ship and with an obsequious salute to the girl, he took seat at the controls and guided the ship into the second lock.
The entire length of both the first and second locks were lined with the titanic coils of the synchronized, magnetic degravitation fields, which stopped the vessels in a graduating net of force. But the transparent sides of the sphere gave a curious sensation of lack of solidity, of fragility even, as if they had entered a vast hall of glass. Only those who really knew the secret composition of the Sphere, were aware of its near-invulnerability, even beyond that of the strongest known metal-alloys.
At last the long, slim atomo-plane was berthed, and the tall, cadaverous figure of Bejamel hove into view. He waited for Perlac closely followed by her robot guard to approach him, in accordance with the etiquette of Plastica. Then, unable to suppress any longer the profound emotions that stirred his complex being, he opened his arms wide and rushed forward to enfold the only being he had ever loved, in the fragile embrace of his skeletal arms. A suspicious brilliance swam in the long green eyes, and the ordinarily limpid voice was husky, uncertain, as he exclaimed: "Perlac, O my dear!" He could say no more. Perlac was touched. She brushed her lips against his cheek, then she gently pushed him back, to gaze into the inscrutable green eyes of the Minister of Justice, who was also her father.
Behind her, looming unnoticed, as a piece of activated mechanism, was the Robot-Proctor, both servant and guard.
"Father," she said impulsively, "Don't take me to the Palace! I couldn't bear to enter the temple as one of the Virgins ... rather would I prefer to be a prisoner of the Irreconcilables."
Father and daughter gazed at each other in silence, surrounded by the deep, far-away hum of the throbbing generators as the incredible stream of atomic power fought the gravity of Neptune. Great opaque doors at the far end of the second lock led into the inner chambers where the robot-tended machinery never faltered for a second. Bejamel smiled slowly, ironically, and shook his head. "We're not going there!"
He waved an emaciated hand at the guard of honor that awaited his pleasure at a respectful distance, and instantly the Intermediate Officer in charge came forward. "Command!" he said laconically. It was the same officer that had reported the defeat of the Intermediate battalion in the caverns beneath Plastica. His superbly beautiful face was impassive, but the brilliant eyes were restless, as if the creature's nerves were overwrought.
"My atomocopter!" Bejamel said as laconically, and then passed a small package to the Intermediate. "For you and the entire Palace Guard," he said softly. "There will be no need of you and your men tonight. We have all but won ... celebrate."
The light of hunger, of delight, of the nearest feeling akin to gratitude he could possibly feel, flashed like a flame into the Intermediate's eyes. "I bow in thanks, O Lord of Justice," he replied formally.
Within seconds, they were speeding upwards in Bejamel's private atomocopter, past tier after tier of the fabulous City of the Sphere.
VI
Every tier was a beehive of activity, as scientists of the Inner Circle, scurried in every direction engaged in a multitude of tasks. Atomo-planes flashed through the inter-connecting levels on their way to the titanic battle below. Thousands of the Neophytes, aided by robots, supplied arms and concentrates to the departing vessels, while other thousands boarded them on their way to swell the ranks of the defenders, and take the place of their countless dead.
At last they reached Bejamel's private dwelling. He never called it a palace. In the tenebrous depths of his involved soul, there were flashes of genius, and one of them was to have and to rule without ever mentioning the fact. His dwelling was exquisite in proportions, the simplicity of its white _Jadite_ facade, depending on the artistry of its composition and carved decors, not on opulence of mosaic-jewelling as was the case with the palace of His Benevolence. A repugnance of rococco display was enough to deter him from bad taste.
They went immediately into his private chambers, and here Perlac had a great surprise, for reclining on a dais covered with silvery Venusian furs and the priceless plumage of the Martian Kra, was the one person she would never have expected to see--Estrella, favorite of His Benevolence!
Once over her shock, Perlac turned and favored her ancient father with a sly smile.
"Incredible!" she murmured. "Can it be possible?" Bejamel bridled.
"Why not?" He rose to his full, cadaverous height. "Estrella and I are going to Venus, child, I have yet many more years of life, and loneliness is not good for an active mind like mine. That's why I ransomed you from that barbarian Guerlan, so that you may go with us. I am going to the palace now, I have one final errand to accomplish well, before we leave!" He smiled slowly, satirically, as if the most delicious thought in the universe had taken shape in his mind.
"Did you take care of His Exalted Benevolence's power-screen belt, my dear?" he inquired of Estrella.
"Yes," the girl nodded, her eyes filling with hatred at the mention of the dreaded name. "It will never function again!"
"Then," Bejamel said emphatically, in the tones he used when he had delivered the final word, "meet me at the emergency outer lock. My ship is there waiting, robot-manned, provisioned, containing fortunes in jewels and priceless things. We will go to Venus, and to a new ... a greater life!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining on the reclining form of Estrella. "I shall expect to see you, Perlac, with Estrella aboard my ship within one hour!" And to the silent robot-proctor. "Guard the women," he said directing a tiny beam of force from the microscopic mechanism concealed in his ring of office at the forehead of the robot, which instantly sealed the order within the synthetic brain of the metal-plastic man. "Guard them and bring them to my ship within one hour."
The metalo-plastic robot seemed to stiffen, his great non-abradable crystal eyes gleamed and a powerful arm went up in acknowledgment of the peremptory order. Satisfied, Bejamel turned and left.
It was then that Perlac turned to the towering robot and said softly, "Now!" And to Estrella, who watched uncomprehendingly, "Are you ready? Throw something about you, and veil your face, Estrella, we're going to the space ship!"
"But we've still got a lot of time!" the favorite protested. "It's true that most of my things are on the spacer, but I want to arrange some personal matters before we go; wait a while!"
A tremendous power was in Perlac's voice as she replied:
"We're leaving now!" Yet she said it very softly. "You're dripping with jewels, are you taking those things with you?"
"But of course! Such a question, have you gone mad?"
"You know what they are? Each one represents a life ... they're made from organic-plastic, human beings executed by greed!" Perlac reminded her.
* * * * *
But Estrella shrugged her divine shoulders as she arose. "My not wearing them wouldn't help those slain ones now. Besides, they're nearer to me in death, than they could ever have been in life!" She smiled with incredible vanity. She threw a robe of Kra plumes about her, and allowed herself to be led to the atomocopter.
Within seconds they were speeding to the outer lock and Bejamel's ship. It was there that the robot-proctor left them, and hurried to the lower chamber where the pulsing generators sang their eternal threnody of unlimited power. Unnoticed he gained the great metalo-plastic doors that divided the vast chambers from the anti-gravity repulsor machinery. Unhesitatingly, it directed a thin pencil of force at an orifice slightly above the center of the great doors, just as Perlac had explained over and over, and the massive portals parted slowly, remaining open.
Robots of the lower grades worked among the maze of towering machinery, oiling, testing, doing a multitude of tasks. But the robot-proctor, without paying them any attention, seemed to suddenly open at the side and an electro-flash gun, of large size, magnified by the Venusian scientists and raised to many times its normal power, came into view from the aperture. Without making a sound, without even a beam of light, the fatal weapon was aimed at the very heart of the colossal motors and generators, wheel and pistons seemed to warp, shrink and disappear uncannily; the steady throbbing hum of the degravitator, lost its smooth rhythm and thereafter large sections of machinery disappeared under the relentless action of the supernal fire being directed at them.
Instantly the robots came to life, for a moment they milled wildly, as if this supreme emergency were something they were not able to cope with, and then they saw the new robot in their midst. Their synthetic brains activated only to the repair and maintenance of the machines, and to their safeguard, focused on the attacker, and its removal was instantly their immediate task. They attacked _en masse_, but the robot-proctor eluded them among the mazes of metalo-plastic, of bery-plastic rods and generators, and the tremendous motors which were being eaten by an invisible leprosy. With a swift slash of the electro-flash gun, the robot-proctor caused havoc among the robots that pursued him, legs, arms, even heads wavered and disappeared as the electronic balance was completely disrupted by the flash.
A tremor seemed to shake the gigantic Sphere. By now, the great degravitator chamber was in shambles, and the remaining motors were unable to cope with the awful pressure of the gravity of the giant planet.
With one final murderous sweep of the electro-flash, that seemed to shear like an invisible scimitar through machinery, robots and everything in its path, retreated as it had come, racing upwards towards the Sphere's emergency locks. There was no apparent pursuit. Only the vivid scarlet lights of imperative emergency, flooding what had been the degravitator chamber were witnesses to the destruction.
In the coordinating offices of the Maintenance Scientists, the telesolidographs gave three-dimensional accounts of the wreckage. But even there, confusion, bred by a growing panic, caused a delay, losing them their chance of effecting repairs. Suddenly, panic brooked no obstacles. The light of intelligence and logic was flung aside as men and women becoming aware of the ghastly fate that awaited them, poured out on the various levels in a frenzy to escape. The news of the destruction of vital machinery in the anti-gravity repulsor beam chamber was being relayed everywhere.
Already the colossal Sphere was swaying gently and settling lower, dislocating the delicate balances that held it poised in space. The stresses on the plastic structures and pylons was tremendous.
* * * * *
As the robot arrived at Bejamel's spacer, a dramatic scene unfolded before his huge non-abradable eyes. Holding an electro-flash in her slender hand, her eyes brimming with tears, Perlac seemed to have for the moment at least, control of the superb ship. She was saying: