existence was suspected.
Sessions let the automatic controls take over while he examined the chartsonce more. They showed the constellation which lay directly ahead, the oneafter that, and then nothing for hundreds of millions of miles. Those firsttwo reflected a tiny amount of light from Ventura B and were visiblethrough telescopes, therefore it would have created suspicion to falsifytheir position. Past them, however, the blackness was too intense topenetrate.
The speed of the rocket ship increased. Atomic blasts replaced those of theregular fuel. Sessions knew that an Earth measurement would have shown theship to have shrunk to half its size. Only light and the radona beam whichprotected the ship from collisions could travel faster.
From now on it was just a matter of luck. Someone had pulled those sixexplorers out of space and Sessions was hoping the same thing would happento him. On the third day it happened.
He was sitting in the pilot's chair, watching the radona chart before him.Most of the chart was blank, only the upper right hand corner showing amass of black dots which indicated a planetary dispersal about a dead star.Sessions waited for the radona beam to swing the ship leftward.
Instead, the ship was curving in the direction of the dots! Ben's firstthought was that the beam had gone out of order, and he switched to manualcontrols. No use. Despite all his efforts he was being carried toward thoseplanets.
Habit made him shut off the tubes. Why waste fuel? A tight smile froze onhis lips as his speed dropped to twenty million miles then lifted again asthe ship by-passed a planet. With calm deliberation Ben switched on thecamera he had installed before the flight and let it record his course asshown on the radona chart.
Only one dot remained on the chart. It grew larger and larger until itfilled the entire screen. There was no longer any doubt as to the ship'sdestination, and as if to add further proof its speed dropped sharply. Benclicked the switch on the camera and removed a tiny roll of microfilm. Theroll fit snugly into the hollow cap which covered the stub of one of hismolars.
The altitude indicator went on automatically, showed fifty thousand feet,then forty thousand, went down to hundreds. Ahead there was only blackness.Ben held his breath and waited for the crash. It never came. Long after thealtimeter showed zero the ship still moved. Ben could think of only oneexplanation: he was below the surface of the dark planet! And then he couldthink no more; the blackness seemed to filter into the ship and into hismind.
* * * * *
"He awakens," a voice said. It was a pleasant voice, a feminine one, silkyand soothing.
Ben Sessions sat up and said, "Huh?"
The first thing he noticed was the light. No more darkness, but a lightthat came from nowhere and yet was everywhere. He was on some sort ofcouch, in a huge room with a vaulted ceiling. Shaking his head groggily,Ben looked for the source of the silken voice. He was alone in the room.
His eyes ran down the length of his body. The flash gun was gone from hisbelt. That was hardly unexpected. But the belt was gone too. So were hisclothes. He was clad in a loose robe of shimmering white cloth.
That meant he had been unconscious for some time. How long? Ben would havegiven much to know. Suddenly he let out an unearthly moan, threw his armswide and rolled off the couch. He lay still.
The silken voice was raised again and added to it was another, moremasculine. Then a door opened and two people stepped into the room. Ben satup and grinned at them, especially at the woman.
"I thought that would get you," he said. "It's not hospitable to hide fromyour guest."
"Resourceful, isn't he?" The woman raised her eyebrows in mock admiration.Her companion growled a reply which Ben couldn't quite catch.
They were an odd pair, the woman towering well above ten feet but perfectlyformed, her skin the color of pink marble; the man more beast than human.The women of Saturn were as tall as she, Ben had time to think, but notnearly as beautiful.
"Welcome to Teris, Ben Sessions," she said. Her smile was the smile of theserpent of Eden.
"You're pretty resourceful yourself," Ben grinned.
He had carried no papers except a blanket permit from Interstellar Flight.He wondered if the precaution he and Carson had taken would prove to be invain. The woman spoke again.
"Ben Sessions, graduate of Neptune School of Rockets; born in Taos, NewMexico, Earth; third of four children; unmarried, unattached at present;first position, co-pilot Earth-Vega Express . . ."
She seemed to be choosing items at random from a memorized list. Theexhibition was intended to impress Ben and it was succeeding. More thanthat, however, it was frightening. He held his breath as she neared theend.
". . . two years with Interstellar Communications; presently a licensedspace explorer, non-affiliated."
"Pretty good," Ben said.
It was better than that. It was perfect. Only the end was wrong. He andCarson had worked that out with the psychoanalyst. The two of them hadwanted to falsify the entire biography, but the analyst had convinced themhe was right.
"One lie I might attempt to pound into your very subconscious by hypnotism;a dozen would be spread too thin. We would leave holes. Under the type ofelectroanalysis you seem to think might be used on you I can't even promiseone lie will hold up."
Ben reminded himself to recommend the man for honors if he ever got back toEarth. He had certainly known his business; but then, if he hadn't he wouldnot be working for "Two Eyes."
"Now that you've told me all about myself maybe you'll tell me what's goingon," Ben said.
"One of your compatriots can do that," the woman told him. Her interestseemed suddenly to have waned.
She said a few words in a strange tongue to the man who stood at her side.He grunted, bowed, and advanced toward Ben. Long arms, covered with thickblack hair, reached out. Ben dodged.
"You'll be sorry if you make him use force," the woman said.
"Nothing like trying," Ben told her. He avoided another grab and stepped inand smashed his fist to the hairy man's jaw.
The ape-like figure rushed forward and Ben's head was thrownback by a mighty blow . . .]
He might as well have hit a wall. Before Ben could strike another blow hewas lifted from his feet by an upward slap that threatened to tear looseone side of his face. Too dazed to resist, he felt both his wristsencircled by a tremendous hand. The woman's voice rose sharply in a tone ofcommand.
* * * * *
The corridor through which Ben Sessions was being led was thronged withpeople. There seemed to be three classes: rosy-skinned giantesses like hisescort; men of his own size, but also with pink complexions; and the squat,hairy men who appeared to be nothing more than slaves.
It was plain that women dominated this society, and from them Ben receivedcurious but contemptuous glances. Any one of these Amazons would have beenconsidered a beauty on Earth, so regular were their features, but theylacked an air of feminine softness. Instead, cruelty lay thinly maskedbeneath the surface.
At the end of the long corridor a huge door swung open and Ben was ledthrough it into an immense room. At the far end of the room was a throne,and on it a woman. Ben blinked. As well proportioned as the others he hadseen, she was half again as tall, twice as beautiful. He could not containa gasp of appreciation.
Thick violet hair fell almost to her shoulders, her skin was luminous andflawless, her body breathtaking, more revealed than concealed by aclinging gown of some filmy material. At her breast, flashed a singleviolet jewel larger by far than the famed sapphires of Uranus.
"I brought him as soon as he awakened," said the woman with Ben.
A malevolent stare from the woman on the throne rested on Ben. "It wasunnecessary," she said. "We have no further need of him. Take him to thefield."
"Wait a minute," Ben snapped.
"You are addressing Arndis, Queen of Teris," he heard his escort say.
"I don't give a hoot . . ." He never finished the sentence. From behind thehairy sl
ave seized him, lifted him and flung him bodily toward the doors.The interview was over.
They went for a while along the same corridor, then turned off and followeda side passage for a way. It led steadily downward to an arched opening andthrough that out of the building. Here too the light was diffused, but muchbrighter. Ben had to blink several times before he became adjusted to it.
They were standing in the center of a vast level plain, apparently endlessand roofless, for overhead there was no sky, only an increasing intensityof light. Ranged in rows on the plain were thousands of space ships. Benturned once as they approached the first line of ships and saw behind himthe building from which he had just come. It rose upward, a single block ofshining stone, for almost a mile. Alongside it were other buildings of thesame material, but none so large.
Then Ben and his two escorts were past the first rows of ships.