Part 3

A great pride welled in Gene's breast, but still his mind was troubled. Now he had won the friendship of the Wronged Ones, but were the Beast People truly vanquished? He thought not. Even with the enormous casualties they had sustained, they still far outnumbered Old One's tribe. They were desperate; this was a bitterly cold, dying world, and outside this valley, without shelter, a person unhardened to the low temperature would soon perish. The horrible creatures were vigorous and rugged, but the cold was becoming more marked, year by year. Even they could not long bear such hardships. He had a hunch they had not gone far from the valley, and would soon launch another attack on the city.

IV

Part of Gene's hunch proved correct. The Beast People were camped just outside the valley, this being verified by scouts sent out from the city late that evening. It was logical to suppose that the suspected attack would also become reality in the near future. There was little sleep for him that night. He lay with eyes open, thinking--but little did he solve.

Kac personally brought Gene's breakfast to him the following morning. The sad face of the chief's son was even sadder this day.

"Many of my people shall no longer know the hardships of life," he told the explorer. "One hundred of them fell before the onslaught of the Beast People. And--sorrow floods my heart--women and children account for more than half of the dead.

"Gene, my friend, my tribe is grateful for your succor in its hour of peril. But for you, the caves would now be in the filthy hands of our most despised enemies. Yea, you have proved yourself a warrior, and we belatedly welcome you as a brother."

Gene was already engrossed in the food, and an unintelligible grunt was the best he could do in the way of a reply. Kac sat on the floor, watching him with wonder--and more than a touch of pity. His brow was furrowed with thought, and suddenly he spoke:

"You are not like those, those _others_, Gene. The legends tell us _they_ were cruel, merciless. But you are kind, just, and your mind knows no deceit. Spawn of the _others_ you may well be, yet their inhuman traits dwell not in you."

Gene looked up puzzledly. "Hey! What in Deimos' Dungeons are you talking about? Who are these _others_, and what makes you think I'm in cahoots with them? Listen, Kac, I'm an Earthman--flesh and blood, bone and hair, every single atom. Before Man, there were no intelligent creatures on Earth; and as for Man himself doing you some great wrong, it could not possibly have happened. Your planet is unknown to my world; I myself discovered it only by the most unusual circumstances. You've got me dizzy with all this talk about supposed wrongs, so how about putting our cards on the table?"

Kac rose, nodding gravely. "Thus was it foretold. Time has erased all memory of the evil deed of your race. But our remembrance of it is as a flame that grows not weaker, but stronger, with the years. Come now, Gene Drummond, and learn of your sin."

Gene followed the tall barbarian from the cavern, excited and more than a little apprehensive. As they walked, he noted that many warriors were on guard throughout the community. That was good. Looking up, he noticed for the first time that a naked, black mountain reared into the sky but a half-mile or so back from the valley wall wherein the caves were situated. That, too, was good. The Beast People would be forced to come at them from the fore.

The trail led to the Cave of Talkers. Down the broad steps, across the flat stone floor, they went wordless and in awe. The giant machines loomed before them, throbbing and pounding with such a clamor as to bring Gene's hands to his ears.

He soon grew accustomed to the noise, however, and went on with Kac to a small niche carved in a wall of the chamber. A vault rested in the recess, and from it Kac took a long metal tube; from this, a musty skin scroll.

The towering tribesman turned and looked deep into Gene's eyes. "Now," he said, "now shall I read to you from this ancient record, written by those long dead for all Wronged Ones to study and learn therefrom of the terrible injustice done to their ancestors. It is not pleasant, Gene. Will you hear it?"

The biologist nodded, a tight feeling around his heart. What unhappy, haunting knowledge was about to come to his mind?

"It is short," Kac murmured. "Those who wrote it knew so little of what actually happened. Too, the language in which it is written is all but lost to us. But it is my fancy that when you have hearkened to these few words, little space will remain in your mind for other thoughts."

"Go ahead, read it," Gene said hoarsely. "I don't run from the truth, even though it may cut to the quick."

* * * * *

Kac began; reading swiftly, yet comprehensively: "Long were we, the Wronged Ones, happy on our beautiful world. Like a green jewel in space it was; a treasure lost from the bosom of the Mother Sun in some careless moment.

"True it is that we were of simple minds; even so, great things were destined for our race. As evolution worked its miracles the ignorance that was born with us dropped away, and in its place came a high order of intelligence.

"We built, tilled the soil, and forever sought new knowledge to enrich our hungry minds. Our civilization was rising, forging ahead. The fertile soil gave abundantly of its treasure; power for our machines came from the Mother Sun itself.

"Then, disaster fell upon our world. Through space, with a far greater speed than light, stabbed an insidious ray--stealing our minds, our egos. Our bodies remained, but the egos that controlled them were drained away and hurled through the void.

"Great was our consternation to find ourselves on an alien world, inhabiting alien bodies; and bitter were we when we realized the egos that had formerly possessed these organic vehicles were now dwelling in _our_ bodies, on our own fair world. A planet of deadness was this upon which our intellects had been cast, but we were determined to live on and someday know vengeance.

"In a word: in one horrible second, and much against our will, we had traded worlds with a desperate, dying race--our sphere of abundance for theirs of desolation.

"The machine with which the usurpers had accomplished this was beyond our comprehension, though our scientists worked long and feverishly to solve its secret. Long after, we came to the conclusion the machine had been captured from the Beast People and one of their number forced to operate it.

"Truly, we found a dying half-man in this cavern. He had been poisoned, so we could not force him to operate the machine for us and take back the planet and organisms that were rightfully ours. Not until many years after did we succeed in capturing a number of the Beast People, only to find they had lost the knowledge of the ego-transposer's working. They were devolving at a rapid pace, and soon we, too, began to know the ravages of degeneration, though it did not act with such speed on us--perhaps only for the reason that we were determined to stave it off and one day return to our much-mourned world.

"Here were we, a rising race, now doomed to extinction by a treacherous people too weak to face the destiny ordained for them. It is true these people were intelligent, after a fashion, but there is little knowledge to be had on this rock-world and when the limit is reached, the mind must retrogress.

"There will be mutations on our lost world, for our planet was possessed of a much larger population than this of the transgressors. Thus when the hellish ego-transposer effected the change, many on our world were left mindless, with only the instincts of the beast remaining. Inter-breeding will greatly reduce the intelligence of the entire population for a time--though they will without doubt arise once more to a new greatness, for the means are there for them.

"There can only be sorrow, despair, and untold misery for us. Before the gods, there can be no greater trespass than this."

Kac's voice trailed away.

Sick dread was on Gene's face. "Kac," he whispered, "What was the name of this world that was stolen from you?"

"Ours was the third world nearest the sun," the tall warrior answered with true regret. "The planet you call Earth...."

Gene's torment of mind knew no bounds in the following hours. Kac had left him in the cavern, warning him not to destroy the Talkers or the tribe would surely slay him. The biologist had given his word and even if he had wished, he could not have violated it; for nothing short of an atomic-cannon could rend the metal of which the titanic machines were built.

He had an atomic-cannon mounted on his ship, _New Frontiers_, but what good was it? He could not get to it--the Beast People surrounded the valley and would nail him the moment he appeared over the rim.

A small platform extended from the ego-transposer, midway up, and to this he climbed via a ladder depending from it. A bucket seat was anchored to the flooring. He dropped in it and began studying the instruments before him.

Outside of two silver-beaded screens, the fixtures were simple ones and quite easy to understand. Yet, his manipulations brought no results.

Long after night fell, he worked with the machine, and when done, he left with the knowledge that he was its master. The troublemaker turned out to be a broken wire; simple, yet it had stumped the Wronged Ones. The plainest things are often the hardest to see.

The other machine defied solution. Kac had told him that it, too, had been captured from the Beast People, who avowed that it generated rays beneficial to vegetable and animal life.

Gene learned definitely, though, that it was the cause of Earth's plight. The working of it was beyond him, but this much he knew. This, then, was the traitorous Beast People's way of exacting vengeance--by deliberately misinforming their captors as to the machine's purpose. Too, they had tampered with some vital part, making it impossible to shut off the power.

There was no guessing how long it had been sending that deadly ray through space, slowly disintegrating all metallic matter in its path. In a few years, maybe months, metal molecules would be drawn so far apart that every structure on Earth would collapse under its own weight.

He thought his brain would burst, so many troubles did it hold. To add to them, Kac brought word that the Beast People were massing for another attack. This would be the final battle, with no surcease till one or the other of the clashing forces fell in decisive defeat--and Gene knew with dread that it could only be the Wrong Ones who would go down.

V

The onslaught came the next day. Hundreds of the Beast People poured into the valley--screaming, gibbering, eager to taste blood. They moved over the rocky surface like some evil blight cast up from the uttermost depths of Hell.

Gene's oil trick would not work now, for there was no oil with which to carry it through. The plants from which it was obtained grew outside the valley, and no one had dared venture forth to pluck them. The tribe would not be in misery much longer.

The warriors had thrown up a stone barricade in front of the caves, and from behind this they looked out upon the fast-approaching horde. Not a man among them looked with fear, but with contempt and detestation for the vermin that came to crush them.

The invaders were within range now. Gene raised his energy-ray and tightened his finger around the trigger. Nothing happened. Its power was exhausted by the almost constant use to which he had put it since arriving here. He flung it aside and snatched up a spear.

The first wave of half-men loosed a hail of crude shafts, hurling them with all the venom that was in their black hearts. Some went to the mark, piercing the breasts of those too slow in ducking. Their aim was poor, but they had many spears and many men to throw them.

Gene tossed his own javelin and had the pleasure of seeing it bury itself in the neck of a squat creature, severing the jugular. Then the battle waxed furious.

The tribe fought desperately to stem the tide. Even Old One and the venerable warriors whose day of battle should be past added their bit to the cause. But nothing could turn those squealing, hate-maddened beings that charged.

Of a sudden, a hairy, hideous face poked above the barrier. The thing snarled and pulled itself over the rocks to land squarely on Gene.

Man and beast met in a fight for life. The slavering brute bore Gene down with crushing strength, wrapping an arm about his waist and pushing back on his chin, trying to snap his spine.

The agony was unbearable. Gene brought up a hand and clamped it on the back of the half-man's head, digging his thumb in behind the ear.

An infinite moment passed, then his adversary straightened slowly, swaying on his feet. The biologist quickly wound his arms around its neck and went dragging it over the ground to a boulder. Once, twice, he bashed the filthy head against the stone. The lifeless body dropped.

Hand to hand battles were raging all about Gene, and though the Wronged Ones fought valiantly, the knowledge was in their eyes that they were lost.

In horror, he saw Old One threshing about on the ground, the fangs of a half-man fastened in his throat. Before Gene could move, an avenging form hurtled through the air and lit on the hell-creature. A stone dagger came down, slashing, tearing, wielded by the hand of a grief-maddened Kac.

The explorer turned away, a choking lump rising in his throat. Then, in his sorrow, a daring plan came to him. Heart thumping against its prison of ribs, he raced away to the Cave of Talkers.

* * * * *

No one was there. The women and children were all huddled in their homes and, of course, every man was outside defending the city. He clambered up to the platform and threw himself in the bucket seat, hoping against hope that this experiment would work.

The ego-transposer hummed with unholy sentience as he threw in a switch, and a soft glow appeared deep in the silver-beaded screens.

Slowly, the image of a tiny organism took form on one screen. Almost at the same moment an identical likeness swam into view on the other. Then began a parade of life-forms across the screens, each succeeding animal a bit higher on the evolutionary scale than its predecessor.

The sounds of battle grew nearer. He had to hurry now.... Ah! There! The flat, repulsive face of a half-man loomed before him. His finger stabbed at a stud, and the likeness was transfixed on the screen.

The procession continued on the other glowing surface until the physique of a Wronged One took shape in the depths and came to focus.

The two reproductions stared out at him with unwinking eyes. Deep in the bowels of the machine the basic mind make-up of the beings was being analyzed. An instant later the throbbing transposer would set up an en masse connection with the race egos, then....

A green light flashed on the panel and Gene brought his hand forward on the master switch. It was done!

Elated, he scrambled down from his perch and hurried outside. As he passed between the strangely inactive creatures at the entrance, a horrified voice croaked: "What terrible deed has been done?"

Gene grabbed the foul thing by the shoulders. "Kac! Is it you?"

"No," it whispered. "It is my mind, yes, but it is not my body." His hands went to his face. "Gene! I cannot see!"

* * * * *

"Easy!" Gene hissed. "You'll cause a panic." He realized that although the Wronged Ones could, with effort, talk with the strange vocal cords, it would take them some time to master the high-pitched shrill.

"Listen, Kac," he said. "Call out and tell your people to banish fear from their minds, or many will die by the spears of the crazed Beast People. Tell them to fall on the ground and not to rise until you so instruct them. Hurry now, there is no time to lose!"

Dazedly, Kac obeyed. Though his voice was cracked and unrecognizable, it boomed with authority. Suppressing their fright, the transposed Wronged Ones dropped to the ground and lay unmoving.

Then Gene crouched beside his fearful companion and looked upon the debacle. The transported Beast People were groping about uncertainly.

They were in the same boat as their hated enemies. Sight was a thing unknown to their brutish minds, thus the eyes they now possessed were utterly useless; and try as they would, they could not produce the inaudible squeal which gave them knowledge of their surroundings with the vocal cords of their new bodies.

Two of them collided, and immediately struck out with their stone knives. To each, the flesh they felt was the flesh of a Wronged One--a feared foe who must be destroyed. Both toppled, screaming defiance even in their final death throes.

The scene was repeated time and again, till the valley floor was but a mass of shrieking, struggling, mangled bodies.

The carnage all but over, Gene grabbed up a spear and went forth to mop up. Some of the transposed Wronged Ones had not dropped as Kac, now their chief, had commanded, but stood about with vacuous expressions on their faces. He suddenly realized that there were no guiding minds in these husks. The Beast People had outnumbered the tribe; consequently many of the monstrosities had been left mindless when the change took place.

Finishing his grisly task, he flung the spear from him in disgust and hurried back to the cave, shouting as he went: "Victory is ours, Kac! The Beast People are defeated! Now your tribe can rejoice!"

But there was no joy in Kac, he found. Now, there was a greater sadness on the new chief's face than was there at any time previous. Strange people! What could be the grievance now?

Kac must have sensed the question in his mind. He gestured disdainfully at his squat, hairy body. "Look you, Gene. You have made our plight far worse. Now we cannot see to hunt or to harvest the puny crops that we wrest from this woe-begone world. This had to be, that is to my knowing. But I fear the tribe will not understand. I can sense their rage even now, my brother."

Gene whirled and stared sickly at the warriors rising from the ground. It was true. Wrath was on their features as they fumbled toward the cave, guided by the very sound of his breathing impinging against their sensitive ears.

The blood-spattered biologist was stunned. "Wait, my brothers!" he cried, throwing up his arms. "You have not been betrayed! Today, you have won a great victory over your enemies; on this same day you shall begin a new life--a life of plenty, of happiness."

But his words were lost in the roar of a people aroused. Nearer they groped. Kac added his appeal, to no avail. They would have the blood of this false-tongued specimen of a race that revelled on a world that was not his own.

If only they would listen to his plan! But argument would only bring about his death--and the end of all hope for a once-mighty people. He turned despairingly to his one remaining friend.

"Hear this now, Kac," he said urgently. "I am going into the cave to--to appeal to the all-powerful Talkers. It is your task to remain here and hold off your warriors as long as possible. In a few moments wondrous magic will be worked on you and all your people, but fear not. Know I am your friend, no matter what strange, new vista your eyes next look upon, and never would I do you harm. When next we meet, it will be in a paradise far more glorious than that for which you mourn. Will you do this your brother asks?"

The great jaws parted and one resolute word came from them: "Yes!"

Gene took the gnarled, furry hand in a warm grip, then turned and bounded down the steps. His hands seemed to be all thumbs as he climbed the ladder.

At least, he thought as he spun the dials to long range, the ego-transposer would undo some of its horrors before its evil existence came to an end.

The splendid, sun-tanned form of a tall youth coalesced on one screen and Gene froze it there with a flick of his finger.

A panorama of life hastened across the other screen, and he recoiled impulsively as the flat, stupid face of a half-man leaped at him from its depth. But he knew that intelligence reposed behind those fearsome features--intelligence that would build a world.

Now the transposer was analyzing the race-egos--and the Wronged Ones were swarming into the cave!

* * * * *

Kac had been unable to hold them. They had merely side-stepped him and come on, silent now and grim. They would not harm their chief, but they would let nothing stand in the way of their vengeance.

Gene rushed to the platform's edge and brought his foot down on a shaggy hand. A stone dagger swished past his ear and shattered against the machine. Heart racing, he flung himself against the master switch and slammed it shut.

Silence, then a chorus of meaningless grunts drifted up to his ears. Below, the half-men milled about like cattle, feeling stupidly of their bodies. They could not understand; they felt wonderingly of their heads where eyes should be, trying to lift the darkness.

The _New Frontiers_ still rested where it had crashed--how long ago? Gene replaced the smashed tube and jockeyed the ship clear of the debris. The tubes roared with power and the landscape fell away.

As he sped toward the cave city, his thoughts went back to the events of a few short hours ago.

In his feeling for the Wronged Ones, he had followed the only course that offered itself. That was the transference of their egos to Venus, to the bodies of the human-like inhabitants of that planet. To those whom Man had wronged long in the dim past. Gene had given a new life, atoned for Man's darkest deed.

At the same time, he had given new hope to Man himself; for now, trade between Earth and Venus would become a reality as soon as the Wronged Ones could orient themselves to the new surroundings--a year at the most. The clouds of Venus had long since lifted, and the tribe would thrive in the warm sunshine that now bathed the planet. Under Kac's able leadership they would aid in restoring Earth's depleted mineral wealth, and in turn Earth would help them in building a lasting civilization.

Now he was over the cave city, and he knew what he must do. On the Vizio-screen he could see tiny specks moving about in the valley. They were stumbling away from the caves, away from what they could not understand.

He dived on the city and depressed the firing stud of the atomic-cannon. A gigantic concussion rocked his ship as the valley wall exploded upward.

On the screen he could see the remains of the machines in the rubble below. So ended the ego-transposer, a devil machine that could lift the spider-web of self from the very brain on which it was spun.

So, too, ended the destructive ray that a desperate people, ever greedy for new wealth, had unwittingly turned upon themselves on that day of infancy in the now-forgotten past.

Now to Venus, where the end of his strange adventure awaited. There had been many more Venusians than Wronged Ones. This surplus now belonged to the beasts--mindless, with only the instincts of the beast remaining. These mindless ones must be segregated to prevent inter-breeding with the others.

As the _New Frontiers_ flashed sunward, Gene caught one final glimpse of the transposed Venusians on his Vizio. Now a race without hope, were they. In undoing one great wrong, he had committed another. But this was a primitive, ignorant people to whom intelligence would never have come in time to aid Earth in the crisis that threatened.

He had played God to them, but they would never know, never realize ... or would they?