CHAPTER VIII
_Rescued_
The guard looked at his captives sourly, kicked viciously at Hilary torelieve his feelings. There was fighting to be had outside; Earthslaves to be tortured and slain, and he was out of it--wet nurse to acouple of prisoners.
He growled disconsolately. Through an open slide window giving out onthe terrace, a confused roaring, a babel of sounds came filteringthrough. There was trouble below--fighting already, very likely. TheMercutian glanced back at his bound and gagged prisoners. They wereimmobile, helpless. He looked guiltily about. The great room was bare,silent. With almost furtive movements he opened the door leading tothe terrace, stumbled out, and was leaning over the parapet, absorbedin the spectacle of Great New York below.
Instantly, Hilary lifted his head, exerting to the utmost his muscles.He could just see the guard's back, strained over the side. Hilaryrelaxed rolled painfully over to Joan. She stared at him wide-eyed.
If only he could make her understand. He must get the gag out of hismouth. Every moment was precious; the guard might return momentarily.He screwed his face into tremendous contortions, wiggled his feet asmuch as he could, worked his jaws, trying desperately to convey hismeaning.
Joan watched him puzzled; trying to follow those strange contortions.Beads of perspiration started on his brow as her face registered blankincomprehension. Just as he was giving up in despair, she grasped theidea. Her face brightened, and her shapely head nodded stiffly.
The trussed-up pair started at once to pivot around on the floor.Fortunately the composition was polished, affording little friction.With infinite pains the maneuver was completed. They lay side by sidenow. Joan's trim feet close to Hilary's head.
Writhing and contorting, she worked the sharp heel of her foot againstthe thick wad of the gag in Hilary's mouth, and pushed. It was solidlytied, but it gave a little. Encouraged, she redoubled her efforts,pushing with all the limited force of her bound limbs.
The yielding gag cut cruelly, the sharp heel scraped and gouged intoHilary's cheeks, but he did not mind. He was in a fever ofapprehension. If only the guard's interest were held by the eventsbelow until he had accomplished what he intended!
* * * * *
At last his mouth was free. The gag had been pushed over his nose.Joan rolled away. She had accomplished the task Hilary had set her,but she was still puzzled. What earthly good would it do him to talk?
She found out almost immediately. He was twisting his head, burrowingwith his nose against the blouse over his right shoulder. The opentunic give a bit, and he burrowed painfully, Joan watching withgrowing fascination, until one of the binding wires stopped furtherprogress. But it seemed far enough, judging from the satisfiedillumination in Hilary's eyes.
He spoke, his mouth pressed close against the shoulder blade, histones queerly muffled, thick.
"Grim Morgan, Wat Tyler, Grim Morgan, Wat Tyler," he whispered overand over again. He could not hear if there was any response; his earswere muffled now by the spread gag. He could not help that.
"Grim Morgan, Wat Tyler," he muttered monotonously, "Hilary Grendoncalling. Held prisoner with Joan, top of Robbins Building. Guarded.Urgent you free us. Artok has sent out general death orders. I haveplan to stop him. Come, quickly."
Over and over he murmured the message, hoping desperately they wouldhear him in the communication disks strapped to their shoulders.
"Come quickly," he repeated; and then the guard, tiring of the viewbelow, or the streets having been cleared of rebels, came softly intothe room. Hilary's head jerked quickly back, the shoulder of his tunicfalling back into position.
"Here, what's this?" the guard growled suspiciously, catching sight ofthe displaced gag. "How on Mercury did you do that?"
He knelt swiftly, thrust the gag back into position with ungentle paw,kicked the unresisting form in the side to show his displeasure, androse. Hilary's heart pounded; the guard had not seen the inconspicuousdisk under the tunic. He was in an agony of expectation. Had hiscomrades caught his message? Could they rescue him even if they had?Questions that only time could answer.
The guard was alert now; he did not like that queer removal of thegag. There would be no further chance to unbind themselves. Whatseemed hours passed as they lay cramped, immobile.
The air grew thick and warm, or was it only his imagination? No, forthe guard felt it, too. Then something buzzed, intermittently. Onelong, two short. It seemed to emanate from a round black button on thesleeve of his gray tunic. A signal!
* * * * *
The guard exclaimed something in guttural Mercutian, rose hastily, andclosed the open door and window. He pressed another button, andsheeted lead curtains rolled swiftly over the vita-crystal roof,darkening the room, cutting off the rays of diffused sunlight. Then heseated himself not far from the captives, facing them, grinningsavagely. Hilary wondered why.
Again what seemed hours passed. Behind the lead curtain, the room hadbecome definitely, uncomfortably warm. The Earthlings perspired; theatmosphere was literally steaming; and in their cramped limbs, thetorture was fast becoming unbearable. Only the Mercutian guard did notseem to mind. He was accustomed to far higher temperatures on the aridplanet that was his home.
Just as the prisoners were gasping almost their last gasp, the heatseemed to recede, swiftly. At once the guard rolled back the leadenshade opened the door and window again. His grin was broadlytriumphant. Something clutched at Hilary's heart; he understood now.The beastly invaders! He struggled furiously at his bonds, but theydid not give. He ceased his efforts, panting.
The moments passed. Hilary was giving up whatever slender hopes he hadhad. Wat and Grim had not heard, or if they did, they could donothing. A slow, sullen despair enveloped him.
He was watching the guard. That gray-faced giant turned his headsuddenly, jumped up as fast as his lumbering alien weight could move,snatched at his sun-tube.
"Don't move an inch, if you want to live," a deep, slow voice vibratedthrough the room. A well-remembered voice. Hilary would have laughedaloud his relief, but he was gagged. His comrades had not failed them.
* * * * *
The guard dropped his half-raised weapon sullenly, staring at theintruders in dazed incomprehension. Hilary jerked his head around.Framed in the doorway was Grim--good old Grim--a long-barreled dynolpistol steady in his hand. From behind him there darted a littlefigure, red-haired, freckled, shrill with delight. An old-fashionedsubmachine gun, abstracted from some museum, weighed heavily under hisarm.
It clattered unheeded to the floor as the bantam dived for Hilary andJoan.
"We came as fast as we could when we got your message," he crowed."Dropped everything." His nimble fingers were making havoc of theknotted bonds, while his nimbler tongue wagged on. "Boy, we have themon the run. We'll sweep them out into space by the time we'rethrough."
Hilary and Joan were free now. Very painfully they rose to their feet,stamping and pounding their arms to make the sluggish blood circulateagain. Wat hopped about in his excitement.
"Here, you little runt," Grim's voice boomed at him, "stop jumpingaround, and tie up this Mercutian. We have no time to waste."
Wat groaned comically. "See how that big ox orders me around," heproclaimed, but he picked up the wire and in a trice had the guardhelpless and glaring.
Hilary had recovered his speech.
"Thanks, boys," he told them simply. "I knew you'd come if it washumanly possible. But how did you manage to get through theMercutians? The building is honeycombed with them."
* * * * *
Morgan grinned. "We came in the _Vagabond_," he said.
"What," almost yelled Hilary, "you mean--"
"That your ship is resting comfortably outside on the terrace. Whenlittle Wat here caught your message in the communication disk, we werebusy organizing companies of Earthmen in the hills back of Suffern. Asrecruits
poured in, we'd tell them off in hundreds, appoint officers,see that they had arms, or gave them directions where to find the oldcaches, and hustled them off. Had to shift our quarters continually,because Mercutian fliers would pick us up with their search-beams, andstart raying. Had some close shaves. But when we heard you werecaught, we turned over the command to the nearest new officer, hurriedto the gorge, and here we are. The _Vagabond_ handled beautifully."
"I could take her myself to the Moon," Wat boasted.
"Hadn't we better be going?" Joan asked anxiously.
"There is work first to be done," Hilary, answered grimly. "There's acertain weather machine in the laboratory I want to take a look at."
"Weather machine?" Grim echoed, puzzled.
"Yes. The Viceroy let something slip about it. For some reason it'svery important to them that it continues to function. I'm curious."
A gasp from Joan. Surprised, the men turned to her.
"Of course," she said breathlessly. "Father had been working on it forthe longest time. It was a machine to control weather. Something todo with broadcasting tremendously high voltages, ionizing the air andcausing rain clouds to form or reversing the process and scatteringclouds back into thin air. This was the Master Machine. All over theEarth, at spaced distances, were smaller replicas, substations,controlled from this one. He had great hopes of furnishing equableweather to all the Earth. It was just completed, when...." She trailedoff.
* * * * *
Grim frowned. "Very interesting, but what is so terribly importantabout it now?"
"You fool," Hilary exploded, "it's as important as hell. Don't yousee? What are the Mercutians' weapons? Sun-tubes, sun-rays from theirfliers, tremendous burning disks that are their space-ships.Sun--sun--everything they have depends upon the sun. Take away thesun, and what have they? Nothing but their hideous giant bodies--theyare weaponless. Now do you see?" He fairly shouted at him.
Grim's face lit up heavily; Wat was dancing insanely.
"Get hold of the machine, reverse the process. Make it form clouds,great big woolly ones. Start a rain that'll make the Deluge look sick;forty days--a year--and we'll drown them all," Wat cried.
"Exactly," Hilary nodded. "Joan darling, you and Wat get into the_Vagabond_, and wait for us. Grim and I will take care of thelaboratory."
"What?" Tyler ejaculated. "Leave me cooped up when there's a fight on.I'm coming."
"So am I," Joan was pale but determined.
"Oh, Lord," Hilary groaned. "Listen to me, please," he said patiently."Time is precious, and I can't argue. Joan, you would only be ahindrance. I for one would be thinking more of protecting you thanfighting. As for you, Wat," he turned to the furious bantam, "I'msorry, but you'll have to take orders. The _Vagabond_ must be guarded.If we're cut off, we're through. And there's Joan."
"Well. If you want to put it that way," Wat grumbled.
"I knew you'd be sensible," Hilary said hurriedly, not giving them achance to change their minds. "At the slightest alarm, take off. Don'ttry to rescue us if we don't return. The Earth cause is more importantthan any individual. If you get caught, too, the revolt will beleaderless; at an end."
The men shook hands gravely. Joan, white-faced, kissed Hilarypassionately. "Be careful, my dear."
* * * * *
Then the two men were gone, moving cautiously down the corridor withdeadened footfalls. Hilary had retrieved his automatic; Grim had hismore modern dynol pistol. The guard had been thrust into a corner,bound, unnoticed.
The laboratory was on the floor below. They trod carefully down theinclined ramp connecting all the floors. The corridors, the ramp, weredeserted.
"All out fighting," Hilary whispered. "The revolt must be spreading."
Grim swore. "The idiots. I told them not to start anything until Ireturned. They'll be wiped out--they weren't ready."
Hilary nodded slowly. He thought of the strange heat while he had beencaptive. There would be very few Earthmen left alive in Great New Yorknow.
They were at the foot of the ramp now. Just ahead gleamed an openslide. A pale-blue light streamed out at them; in the oblong of theinterior they could see moving shapes, weirdly cut off, crossing theirfield of vision; bright gleaming machines, segments of tremendoustubes flooded with the pale-blue light. And over all was a constanthum, a crackling, a whining of spinning parts. The laboratory!