The ultimatum carried a day of grace; the alternate was a declaration of war by the Earth, and our immediate attack upon Venia. It was the same proposition which our War Director had previously made unofficially to Tarrano while he was there in the garden with Elza and which Tarrano so summarily had rejected.

The ultimatum came to us in the tower as we sat listening to the announcer's measured tones. Elza exclaimed:

"But why do they wait? Father's model must be here. Tarrano, the leader of all this—is here. Within the hour those vessels of war could sweep in here—capture Tarrano—recover father's model——"

Georg interrupted quietly: "No one knows if the model is here. That other car from the laboratory—we don't know where it went. The plundered laboratory has been found, of course. No station up there is near enough to have eavesdropped upon our capture, but the whole thing must have come out by now. But that aero with the model may have met an inter-planetary vessel—the model may be on the way to Venus by now."

"Georg," I exclaimed, "do you know the workings of that model? Could you build another without the notes?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes. And they know that, in Washington. I could build another. But they know by now, that I, too, am in Tarrano's hands——"

"And he will kill you, of course, to destroy that knowledge and keep the secret for himself——" I did not say it aloud, for Elza's sake; but I thought it, and I realized that Georg was thinking it also.

Dr. Brende's secret of longevity was the crux of all this turmoil—the lever by which Tarrano was raising himself. Scores of facts amid the tumultuous news of these hours showed us that. For months, throughout Venus, Tarrano had spread the insidious propaganda that he alone had the secret of immortality—that when he was made ruler, he would use it for the benefit of his followers.

Converts to Tarrano's cause were everywhere. In the Central State many welcomed the coming of his army. And now from the Great City his propaganda was being sent to the Earth. Murmurs from our own Earth public were beginning to be heard. The ignorant lower classes seemed ready to swallow anything. A new beneficent ruler who guaranteed everlasting life! Throughout the ages people have flocked to that same standard!

In Mars, much the same was transpiring. At almost her closest point to the Earth these days, Red Mars sent us constant helios from the midnight sky. The Little People had appointed a new ruler to take the place of him who had been assassinated. The Council there put the assassination to unknown causes. Tarrano was held blameless. The Little People declared themselves neutral. But they gave prompt official recognition to the Tarrano government of Venus. And everywhere throughout Mars the public was stirred by the thought of everlasting life.

"Fools!" muttered Georg. "That Little People government—they'll have a revolution of their own to fight at this rate. Can't you see what Tarrano is doing? Working everywhere with propaganda—working on the public—the gullible public ready always to swallow anything——"

On Earth, lay the crisis. Our own governments only had taken a firm stand. What could Tarrano do with this ultimatum? Either he must yield himself and the Brende secret, or a war in which he would be immediately overwhelmed here in Venia would follow.

It was nearly ten o'clock that first night. Elza had gone to the balcony. We heard her call us softly, but with obvious tenseness. Out there we found her pointing excitedly. A few hundred feet away and somewhat below us was a tower similar to our own. In one of its oblong casements a glow of rose-light showed. And within the glow was the full-length figure of a girl. We could see her plainly, though a small image at that distance with the naked eye, and our personal vision instruments had been taken from us. A slender, imperial figure—a young girl seemingly about Elza's age. Dressed in a shimmering blue kirtle, short after the Venus fashion, with long grey stockings beneath. A girl with flowing waves of pure white hair to her waist—a girl of the Venus Central State. She seemed, like ourselves, a prisoner. An aura or barrage was around her tower. She stood there, back in the tower room, full in the rose-light as though surreptitiously trying to attract our attention.

As we gathered on our balcony, behind the glow of our own barrage, she gestured to us vehemently. And then, with one white arm, she began to semaphore. One arm, and then with both. Georg and I recognized it—the Secondary Code of the Anglo-Saxon Army. We murmured the letters aloud as she gave them:

"I am——" Abruptly she stopped. A violent gesture, and she disappeared; her rose-glow went out; her tower casement was dark. On a lower spider bridge Tarrano had appeared. He was crossing it on foot toward our tower, his small erect form advancing hastelessly, with the figure of Argo behind him.

He reached our lower entrance, cut off the barrage there, and entered. Argo replaced the barrage, lingered an instant, gazing upward at us with his habitual leer. Then he retraced his steps across the bridge and disappeared.

A moment more, and in our lounging apartment Tarrano faced us.



CHAPTER VIII

Unknown Friend

"Sit down." Tarrano motioned us to feather hassocks and stretched himself indolently upon our pillowed divan. With an elbow and hand supporting his head he regarded us with his sombre black eyes, his face impassive, an inscrutable smile playing about his thin lips.

"I wish to speak with you three. The Lady Elza——" His glance went to her briefly, then to Georg. "She has told you, perhaps, what I had to say to her?"

"Yes," said Georg shortly.

Elza had indeed told us. And with sinking heart I had listened, for it did not seem to me that any maiden could resist so dominant a man as this. But I had made no comment, nor had Georg. Elza had seemed unwilling to discuss it, had flushed when her brother's eyes had keenly searched her face.

And she flushed now, but Tarrano dismissed the subject with a gesture. "That—is between her and me.... You have been following the general news, I assume? I provided you with it." He rolled a little cylinder of the arrant-leaf, and lighted it.

"Yes," said Georg.

Georg was waiting for our captor to lay his cards before us. Tarrano knew it; his smile broadened. "I shall not mince words, Georg Brende. Between men, that is not necessary. And we are isolated here—no one beyond Venia can listen. As you know, I am already Master of Venus. In Mars—that will shortly come. They will hand themselves over to me—or I shall conquer them." He shrugged. "It is quite immaterial." He added contemptuously: "People are fools—almost everyone—it is no great feat to dominate them."

"You'll find our Earth leaders are not fools," Georg said quietly.

Tarrano's heavy brows went up. "So?" He chuckled. "That remains to be seen. Well, you heard the ultimatum they sent me? What do you think of it?"

"I think you'd best obey it," I burst out impulsively.

"I was not speaking to you." He did not change the level intonation of his voice, nor even look my way. "You are to die tomorrow, Jac Hallen——"

Elza gave a low cry; instantly his gaze swung to her. "So? That strikes at you, Lady Elza?"

She flushed even deeper than before, and the flush, with her instinctive look to me that accompanied it, made my heart leap. Tarrano's face had darkened. "You would not have me put him to death, Lady Elza?"

She was struggling to guard from him her emotions; struggling to match her woman's wit against him.

"I—why no," she stammered.

"No? Because he is—your friend?"

"Yes. I—I would not let you do that."

"Not let me?" Incredulous amusement swept over his face.

"No. I would not—let you do that." Her gaze now held level with his. A strength came to her voice. Georg and I watched her—and watched Tarrano—fascinated. She repeated once more: "No. I would not let you."

"How could you stop me?"

"I would—tell you not to do it."

"So?" Admiration leaped into his eyes to mingle with the amusement there. "You would tell me not to do it?"

"Yes." She did not flinch before him.

"And you think then—I would spare him?"

"Yes. I know you would."

"And why?"

"Because—if you did a thing like that—I should—hate you."

"Hate——"

"Yes. Hate you—always."

He turned suddenly away from her, sitting up with a snap of alertness. "Enough of this." Did he realize he was defeated in this passage with a girl? Was he trying to cover from us the knowledge of his defeat? And then again the bigness of him made itself manifest. He acknowledged soberly:

"You have bested me, Lady Elza. And you've made me realize that I—Tarrano—have almost lowered myself to admit this Jac Hallen my rival." He laughed harshly. "Not so! A rival? Pah! He shall live if you wish it—live close by you and me—as an insect might live on a twig by the rim of the eagle's nest.... Enough!... I was asking you, Georg Brende, of this ultimatum. Should I yield to it?" He had suppressed his other emotions; he was amusing himself with us again.

"Yes," said Georg.

"But I have already refused—today in the garden. Would you have me change? I am not one lightly to change a decision already reached."

"You'll have to."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Of one thing I am sure. I cannot let them declare war against me just now. I have no defense, here in Venia. Scarce the armament for my handful of men. Your vessels of war would sweep down here and overpower me in a breath—trap me here helpless——"

"Of course," said Georg.

"And so I must not let them do that. They want me to come to Washington with the Brende model—deliver it over to them. Yet—that does not appeal to me. Tomorrow I shall have to bargain with them further. I could not deliver to them the Brende model." He was chuckling at his own phrasing. "No—no, I could not do that."

"Why?" demanded Georg. "Isn't the model here?"

"It is—where it is," said Tarrano. He became more serious. "You, Georg—you could build one of those models?"

Georg did not answer.

"You could, of course," Tarrano insisted. "My spy, Ahla—you remember her, the Lady Elza's maid for so long? She is here in Venia; she tells me of your knowledge and skill with your father's apparatus. So you see, I realize I have two to guard—the model itself, and you, who know its secret."

He now became more openly alert and earnest than I had ever seen him. The light from the tube along the side wall edged his lean, serious face with its silver glow. "I've a proposition for you, Georg Brende. Between men, such things can be put bruskly. Your sister—her personal decision will take time. I would not force it. But meanwhile—I do not like to hold you and her as captives."

The shadow of a smile crossed Georg's face. "We shall be glad to have you set us free."

Tarrano remained grave. "You are a humorist. And a clever young fellow, Georg Brende. You—as Elza's brother—and as your father's son with your medical knowledge—you can be of great use to me. Suppose I offer you a place by my side always? To share with me—and with the Lady Elza—these conquests.... Wait! It is not the part of wisdom to decide until you have all the facts. I shall confide in you one of my plans. The publics of Venus, Mars and the Earth—they think this everlasting life, as they call it, is to be shared with them."

His chuckle was the rasp of a file on a block of adamant. "Shared with them! That is the bait I dangle before their noses. In reality, I shall share it only with the Lady Elza. And with you—her brother, and the mate you some day will take for yourself. Indeed, I have a maiden already at hand, picked out for you.... But that can come later.... Everlasting life? Nonsense! Your father's discovery cannot confer that. But we shall live two centuries or more. Four of us. To see the generations come and go—frail mortals, while we live on to conquer and to rule the worlds.... Come, what do you say?"

"I say no."

Tarrano showed no emotion, save perhaps a flicker of admiration. "You are decisive. You have many good qualities, Georg Brende. I wonder if you have any good reasons?"

"Because you are an enemy of my world," Georg declared, with more heat than he had yet displayed.

"Ah! Patriotism! A good lure for the ignorant masses, that thing they call patriotism. For rulers, a good mask with which to hide their unscrupulous schemes. That's all it is, Georg Brende. Cannot you give me a better reason? You think perhaps I am not sincere? You think I would not share longevity with you—that I would play you false?"

"No," Georg declared. "But my father's work was for the people. I'm not talking patriotism—only humanitarianism. The strife, suffering in our worlds—you would avoid it yourself—and gloat while others bore it. You——"

"Youth!" Tarrano interrupted. "Altruism! It is very pretty in theory—but quite nonsensical. Man lifts himself—the individual must look out for himself—not for others. Each man to his destiny—and the weak go down and the strong go up. It is the way of all life—animal and human. It always has been—and it always will be. The way of the universe. You are very young, Georg Brende."

"Perhaps," Georg said, and fell silent.

Tarrano abruptly rose to his feet. "Calm thought is better than argument. You have imagination—you can picture what I offer. Think it over. And if youth is your trouble——" His eyes were twinkling. "I shall have to wait until you grow up. We have a long road to travel—empires cannot be built in a day."

He paused before Elza with a grave, dignified bow. "Goodnight, Lady Elza."

"Goodnight," she said.

He left us. We stood listening to his footsteps as he quietly descended the tower incline. At his summons, the barrage was lifted. He went out. From the balcony we saw him cross the spider bridge, with Argo at his heels. As they vanished into the yawning mouth of an arcade beyond the bridge, again came that rose-glow in the other tower. We saw again the girl with flowing white hair standing there. And now she was waving us back.

"She wants us inside, where we can't be seen," Georg murmured. We drew back into the room, standing where we still could see the girl. I wondered then—and we had discussed it several times these last hours—if the interior of our tower were under observation by some distant guard. We felt that probably it was, visibly and audibly; and we had been very careful of what we said aloud.

But now, if we were watched, we could not help it; we would have to take the chance. The figure of the girl showed plainly down there through the other casement. And again, with slow-moving white arms she began to semaphore. A queer application of the Secondary Code, which always is used officially with coral-light beams over considerable distances. But it sufficed in this emergency. Slowly she spelled out the letters, words, phrases.

"I am Princess Maida——"

Georg whispered to us: "Hereditary ruler of the Central State——"

I nodded. "Watch, Georg——"

"Prisoner——" came next: "Like yourselves, and we must escape."

She paused a moment, letting her arms drop to her sides, shaking the glorious waves of her white hair with a toss of her head. Then, at a gesture from Georg that he understood, she began again:

"Escape tonight——"

I half expected that any moment Tarrano or one of his men would burst in to stop this. But the signals continued.

"I am sending you a friend—tonight—soon—he will come to you. With plans for our escape. A good friend——"

Her tower abruptly went dark. Cautiously I gazed down from our balcony. Argo had appeared on the spider bridge; he was pacing back and forth. Did he suspect anything? We could not tell, but it seemed not. It was the midnight hour; a brilliant white flash swept the city to mark it.

In a low corner of the balcony, behind the glow of our barrage, we crouched together, whispering excitedly. But cautiously, for we knew that the microphonic ears of a jailor might be upon us. The Princess Maida—here in Tarrano's hands! She was sending us a friend—tonight—soon; a friend who would help us all to escape.

"By the code!" Georg exclaimed. "If we could get to Washington—if I could be there now in this crisis—with my knowledge of the Brende light——"

Far above our personal safety, our lives, lay the importance of Georg's knowledge. With the Brende secret—through him—in the hands of the Earth Council, Tarrano's greatest lever to power would be broken. Our Earth public would sway back to patriotic loyalty. The Little People of Mars unquestionably would remain friendly with us, with the Brende light to be developed on Earth and shared with them. They would see Tarrano perhaps, for what he was—a dangerous, unscrupulous enemy.... If only Georg could escape....

An hour went by with murmured thoughts like these. A friend coming to help us? How could he reach us? And how help us to escape?

We crouched there, waiting. Argo—obviously on night guard—still paced the bridge. The city was comparatively dark and silent; yet even so, there seemed more activity than we felt was normal. Occasional beams flashed across the narrow segment of our sky. The crescent terraces, visible through a shallow canyon of buildings to the left, were a blaze of colored lights with the dark figures of people thronging them. The mingled hum of instruments was in the night air; sometimes the snap of an aerial; and the steady, clicking whir of the night escalators on the city street levels and inclines.

It seemed hours that we waited. The green flash of the second hour past midnight bathed the city in its split-second lurid glare. Elza had fallen asleep, beside us on the feathered hassock of our balcony corner. But Georg and I were fully alert—waiting for this unknown friend. Georg had smoked innumerable arrant-leaf cylinders. Through the insulated tube, from a public cookery occasional hot dishes were passing our dining room for us to take if we wished. But we had touched none of them. From the food stock on hand, Elza had cooked our two simple meals. But now, with Elza asleep, Georg left me and returned in a moment with steaming cups of taro. We drank it silently, still waiting. Argo still paced the bridge on guard. Presently we saw the figure of Wolfgar join him. The two spoke together a moment; then Argo disappeared; Wolfgar paced back and forth on guard in his place.

At 2:30 the Inter-Allied announcer—for half an hour past quite silent—brought us to our feet, his monotone droning from the disc in our instrument room:

"Greater New York, Inter-Allied Unofficial 2:27 A. M. Tarrano replies to the Earth Council Ultimatum...."

Our start woke up Elza. Together we rushed into the instrument room.

"With many hours yet before the Earth Council Ultimatum expires, it is unofficially reported that Tarrano has sent his note in answer. Its text, we are reliably informed, is now in the hands of our Governments at Great London, Greater New York, Tokyohama and Mombozo. Helios of it also have been sent to Tarrano's own government of Venus and to the Little People of Mars. We have as yet no further details...."

A buzz came as he ended, with only the click of the tape continuing as it printed his words. A period of silence, then again his voice:

"Official 2:32 A. M. Inter-Allied News: Tarrano rejects Ultimatum. His note to Earth Council complete defiance. Official text follows...."

We listened, dumb with amazement and awe. Tarrano's note was indeed, complete defiance. He would not yield up the Brende light. Nor would he deliver himself in Washington for trial. In the suave, courteous language of diplomacy, he deplored the unreasonable attitude of the Earth leaders. Ironically, he suggested that they declare war. He would be overwhelmed in Venia, of course. He had no means of defending himself against their aggression. But at the first flash of hostile rays, the Brende model would be destroyed forever. And Georg Brende—the only living person who had the knowledge to replace the model—would die instantly. The Brende secret would be lost irrevocably. It was unfortunate that humanity on Earth, Venus and Mars, should be denied their chance for immortality. Unfortunate that the Earth leaders were so headstrong. They were enemies, in reality, of their own people—and enemies of the peoples of Venus and Mars. But if the Earth Council wished war with Tarrano—then war let it be.

"A bluff," I exclaimed. "He would lose everything himself. It's suicide—"

"Not suicide," Georg said soberly. "Propaganda. Can't you see it? He knows the Earth Council will make no move until the ultimatum time has expired. Hours yet. And in those hours, he is working upon the publics of the three worlds."

The announcer was silent again. Below us, in our tower, we heard a footstep. The barrage had been lifted to admit someone, then thrown on again. Measured footsteps were coming up our incline. We stood motionless, breathless. A moment; then into the room came Wolfgar. He did not speak. Advancing close to us as we stood transfixed, he jerked an instrument from his belt. It whirred and hummed in his hand. The room around us went black—a barrage of blackness and silence, with ourselves and Wolfgar in a pale glow standing within it as in a cylinder. The isolation-barrage. I had never been within one before, though upon drastic occasion they were in official use.

Wolfgar said swiftly: "We cannot be seen or heard. I have been in charge of the mirror observing you—I have thrown it out of use. The Princess Maida—"

"You are—the friend?" Georg whispered tensely. Elza was trembling and I put my arm about her.

Wolfgar's face lightened with a brief smile; then went intensely serious. "Yes. A spy, trusted by Tarrano for years—but my heart is with the Princess Maida. We must escape—all of us—now, or it will be too late."

He stopped abruptly, and a look of consternation came to him. The black silence enveloping us had without warning begun to crackle. The metal cone in Wolfgar's hand glowed red with interference-heat—but he clung to it, though it burned him. Sparks were snapping in the blackness around us. Our isolation was dissolving. Someone—something—was breaking it down, struggling to get at us!



CHAPTER IX

Paralyzed!

The isolation barrage which Wolfgar had flung around us was dissolving. Someone—something—was in the room, breaking down the barrage, struggling to get at us. We stood huddled together; Elza clinging to me, Georg beside us, and Wolfgar, gripping the small cylinder which was glowing red in his hand from intense heat.

Georg muttered something; the snapping sparks of the barrage blurred his words. But I heard Wolfgar say swiftly:

"We're trapped! You, of all of us—you Georg Brende, must escape."

The rest of his words to Georg I did not catch. He was thrusting a weapon into Georg's hands; and giving hurried advice and explanations.

"Princess Maida ... she ... in that other tower ... you, so much more important than the rest of us...." Phrases I heard; but only phrases, for in those few seconds I stood dumbly confused, fascinated by watching the blackness in which we had enveloped ourselves now breaking into lurid, angry sparks.

A distant corner of the room became visible; outlines of the wall-beams; the growing glare of a wall-light in a tube over there. And through the brightening gloom—the figure of a lone man standing. Tarrano!

I heard Georg mutter: "Jac! Make a show of fight! Hold him! But careful—careful of Elza!"

Behind me there came an electrical flash; the pungent smell of burning cloth. Georg was no longer beside us!

Elza was still clinging to me in fright. I shook her off. Wolfgar flung his smoking, useless cylinder to the floor. The blackness at once sprang into light; the sparks died. Tarrano was standing in the room, quietly, before us. Standing with a grim, cynical smile, regarding us.

But only for an instant did he stand quiet. Across the room, creeping for the balcony doorway, I was aware of the figure of Georg. Tarrano saw him also; and with a swift gesture snapped back to his belt the interference cylinder with which he had uncovered us; then plucked at another weapon, gripped it to turn it upon Georg.

Everything was happening too swiftly for coherent thought. I leaped toward Tarrano, with Wolfgar rushing beside me. Elza screamed. Tarrano's hand was leaving his belt. I reached him; flung out my fist for his face.

But in that instant the weapon in Tarrano's hand was brought upon me. My paralyzed muscles made my arm and fist go wide. My blow missed him; he stepped aside; and like a man drunk with baro-wine, I stumbled past him, halted, swayed and struggled to keep my footing.

Wolfgar had felt it also; he was reeling near me, holding himself from falling with difficulty. I was unarmed; but there were weapons hanging from Wolfgar's belt. His numbed fingers were groping for them. But the effort was too great. The blood, driven back from his arms, left them powerless; they fell dangling to his sides.

A few seconds; but we had occupied Tarrano during them. Georg was through the balcony doorway and beyond our sight. Elza was standing motionless, too frightened to move. I felt myself growing numb, weighted to the floor as though my feet had taken root. My arms were hanging like wood; fingers tingling, then growing cold, dead to sensation. And a numbness creeping up my legs; and spreading inward from my arms and shoulders. In a few moments more, I knew the numbness would reach my heart.

Tarrano had not moved, save that single step side-wise to avoid my onslaught. As I stood there now with my face like fire and my brain whirling with the blood congested in it, I heard his quiet voice:

"Do not fear, Lady Elza. This Jac Hallen—as I promised you—is quite safe with me."

His gesture waved her aside, that she should not come within those deadly vibrations he was flinging at us. And I saw his other hand lift a tiny mouthpiece from his belt; heard his voice say into it: "Argo? Argo! That Georg Brende——"

He stopped; a look of annoyance came over his face. Argo did not answer! Dimly to my fading senses came the triumphant thought, the realization that Argo outside, upon whom Tarrano depended to seize Georg—had failed.

Action had come to Tarrano. He snapped off his weapon. Released from it, Wolfgar and I wilted to the floor—lay inert. The returning blood in my limbs made them prick as with a million needles. To my sight and hearing, the room was whirling and roaring. I felt Tarrano bending swiftly over me; felt the forcible insertion of a branched metal tube in my nostrils; a hand over my mouth. I struggled to hold my breath—failed. Then inhaled with a gasp, a pungent, sickening-sweet gas. Roaring, clanging gongs sounded in my ears—roaring and clattering louder, then fading into silence. A wild, tumbling phantasmagoria of dreams. Then complete unconsciousness.



CHAPTER X

Georg Escapes

I come now to recount events at which I was not present, and the details of which I did not learn until later. Fronted by Tarrano, in those few seconds of confusion, Georg made his decision to escape even at the cost of leaving Elza and me. He murmured his hurried good-bye. The moment had arrived. He could see Tarrano dimly through the sparks. He leaped backward, through that wall of electrical disturbance which surrounded us. The sparks tore at him; burned his clothing and flesh; the shock of it gripped his heart. But he went through; crept for the balcony. It was dark out there. He would have rushed for Tarrano instead of the balcony, but as he came through the sparks he had seen that the barrier surrounding our tower was momentarily lifted. Argo had cut it off to admit Tarrano a few moments before. He had not yet replaced it—absorbed, doubtless, in watching in his finder what Tarrano was doing with us. He must have seen Georg reach the balcony; and jumped then to replace the barrier. But too late. Georg was over the balcony rail with a leap. The insulated tubes were there—upright gleaming tubes of metal extending downward to the platform below. Tubes smooth, and as thick as a woman's waist.

Georg slid down them. The barrage, above him on the balcony, had been replaced. He saw below him the figure of Argo come running out. A weapon in each hand. The burning pencil-ray swung at Georg, but missed him as he came down. Had it struck, it would have drilled him clean with its tiny hole of fire. Then Argo must have realized that Georg should be taken alive. He ran forward, swung up at Georg the paralyzing vibrations which Tarrano at that instant was using upon Wolfgar and me.

Georg felt them. He was ten feet, perhaps, above the lower platform; and as he felt the numbness strike him, he lost his hold upon the tube-pipe. But he had presence of mind enough to kick himself outward with a last effort. His body fell upon the onrushing Argo. They went down together.

Argo lay inert. The impact had knocked him senseless, and had struck his weapon from his hand. Georg sat up, and for a moment chafed his tingling, prickling arms and legs. He was bruised and shaken by the fall, but uninjured.

Within our tower, Tarrano was still occupied with us. Georg leaped to his feet. He left Argo lying there—ran over the spider-bridge; down a spiral metal stairway, across another bridge, and came upon the small park-like platform which stood at the bottom of the other tower. He had passed within sight of a few pedestrians. One of them shouted at him; another had tried mildly to stop him. A crowd on a distant terrace saw him. A few of their personal flashes were turned his way. Murmurs arose. Someone at the head of one of the escalators, in a panic pulled an alarm-switch. It flared green into the sky, flashing its warning.

The interior-guards—seated at their instrument tables in the lower rooms of the official buildings—had seen Georg in their finders. The alarm was spreading. Lights were appearing everywhere.... The murmurs of gathering people ... excited crowds ... an absurd woman leaning down over a far-away parapet and screaming ... an ignorant, flustered street-guard on a nearby upper terrace swinging his pencil-ray down at Georg.... Fortunately it fell short.

For a moment Georg stood there, with the gathering tumult around him—stood there gazing up at that small tower. The tower wherein the Princess Maida was confined. It was dark and silent. Black rectangles of doors and casements, all open—but barred by the glow of the electrical barrage surrounding it.

Georg jerked from his belt the cylinder Wolfgar had given him. Metallic. Short, squat and ugly, with a thick, insulated handle. He feared to use it. Yet Wolfgar had assured him the Princess Maida was prepared. He hesitated, with his finger upon the switch-button of the weapon. But he knew that in a moment he would be too late. A searchlight from an aerial mast high overhead swung down upon him, bathing him in its glare of white.

His finger pressed the trigger. A soundless flash of purple enveloped the tower. Sparks mounted into the air—a cloud of vivid electrical sparks; but mingled with them in a moment were sparks also of burning wood and fibre. Smoke began to roll upward; the purple flash was gone, and dull red took its place. The hum and angry buzz of outraged electricity was stilled. Flames appeared at all the tower casements—red flames, then yellow with their greater heat.

The trim and interior of the tower was burning. The protons Georg had flung at it with his weapon had broken the electrical barrage. The interference heat had burned out the connections and fired everything combustible within the tower. A terrific heat. It began to melt and burn the blenite.[10] The upper portion of the tower walls began to crumble. Huge blocks of stone were shifting, tottering; and they began to fall through the glare of mounting flames and the thick black smoke.

[Footnote 10: A cement or mortar used in stone constructions—evidently partially combustible.]

Georg had tossed away his now useless weapon—emptied of its charge. He was crouching in the shadow of a parapet. The city was now in turmoil. Alarm lights everywhere. The shrilling of sirens; roaring of megaphoned commands ... women screaming hysterically....

A chaos, out of which, for a few moments, Georg knew no order could come. But his heart was in his mouth. The Princess Maida, within that burning building....

He had located the tiny postern gate at the bottom of the tower where Wolfgar had told him she would appear. The barrage was gone; and in a moment she came—a white figure appearing there amid the smoke that was rolling out.

He rushed to her. A figure wholly encased in white itan[11] fabric with head-mask, and tubes from its generator to supply her with air. Wolfgar had smuggled the equipment in to her for just this emergency. She stood awkwardly beside Georg—a grotesque figure hampered by the heavy costume. Its crescent panes of itanoid begoggled her.

[Footnote 11: A universal insulating fabric, as rubber insulates electricity and asbestos bars heat.]

Behind him, Georg could hear people advancing. A guard picked them out with a white flash. The mounting flames of the tower bathed everything in red. A block of stone fell near at hand, crashing through the metallic platform upon which they were standing. Broken, it sagged beneath their feet.

Georg tore at the girl's head-piece, lifted it off. Her face was pale, frightened, yet she seemed calm. Her glorious white hair tumbled down in waves over her shoulders.

"Wolfgar—he——" She choked a little in the smoke that swirled around them. Georg cut in: "He sent me—Georg Brende. Don't talk now—get this off."

He pulled the heavy costume from her. She emerged from it—slim and beautiful in the shimmering blue kirtle, with long grey stockings beneath.

A spider incline was nearby. But a dozen guards were coming up it at a run. With the girl's hand in his, Georg turned the other way. People were closing in all around them—an excited crowd held back by the heat of the burning tower, the smoke and the falling blocks of stone. Someone swung a pencil-ray wildly. It seared Georg like a branding-iron on the flesh of his arm as it swung past. He pulled Maida toward the head of an escalator a dozen feet away. Its steps were coming upward from the plaza at the ground level. Half way up, the first of an up-coming throng were mounting it.

But Georg again turned aside. He found Maida quick of wit to catch his plans; and agile of body to follow him. They climbed down the metal frame-work of the escalator sides; down under it to where the inverted steps were passing downward on the endless belts. Maida slid into one of them, with Georg after her, his arms holding her in place.

They huddled there. No one had seen them enter. Smoothly the escalator drew them downward. Above them in a moment the tramp of feet sounded close above their heads as the crowd rushed upward.

They approached the bottom, slid out upon a swinging bridge which chanced at the moment to be empty of people. Down it at a run; into the palm-lined plaza at the bottom of the city.

Down here it was comparatively dim and silent. The alarm lights of the plaza section had not yet come on; the excitement was concentrated upon the burning tower above. The crowd, rushing up there, left the plaza momentarily deserted. Georg and Maida crossed it at a run, scurried like frightened rabbits through a tunnel arcade, down a lower cross-street, and came at last unmolested to the outskirts of the city.

The buildings here were almost all at the ground level. Georg and Maida ran onward, hardly noticed, for everyone was gazing upward at the distant, burning tower. Georg was heading for where Wolfgar had an aero secreted. A mile or more. They reached the spot—but the aero was not there. They were in the open country now—Venia is small. Plantations—an agricultural region. Most of the houses were deserted, the occupants having fled into the city as refugees when threats and orders came from Washington the day before. Georg and Maida came upon a little conical house; it lay silent, heavy-shadowed in the starlight with the glow of the city edging its side and circular roof. Beside it was an incline with a helicopter standing up there on a private landing stage.... Georg and Maida rushed up the incline.

A small helicopter; its dangling basket was barely large enough for two—a basket with a tiny safety 'plane fastened to its outrigger.

In a moment Georg and the girl had boarded the helicopter. She was silent; she had hardly said a word throughout it all.... The helicopter mounted straight up; its whirling propellers above sent a rush of air downward.

"These batteries," said Georg. "The guards in Venia can't stop us. An aero—even if we had it—I doubt if we could get power for it. They've shut off general power by now, I'm sure."

She nodded. "Yes—no doubt."

As they mounted upward, the city dwindled beneath them—dwindled to an area of red and green and purple lights. It was silent up here in the starlight; a calm, windless night—cloudless, save for a gray bank which obscured the moon.

Ten thousand feet up. Then fifteen. The city was a tiny patch of blended colors. Light rockets occasionally mounted now. But their glare fell short. Georg's mind was busy with his plans. Had the helicopter been seen? It seemed not. No rocket-light had reached it; and there was no sign of pursuit from below.

Maida crouched beside him. He felt her hand timidly upon his arm; felt her shy, sidelong glance upon him. And suddenly he was conscious of her beauty. His heart leaped, and as he turned to her, she smiled—a smile of eager trust which lighted her face like a torch of faith in the spire of a house of worship.

"You are planning?" she said. "You know what it is we must do?"

He said: "I think so. The volan[12] out there is large enough for two. You'll trust yourself to it with me? You're not afraid, are you?"

[Footnote 12: A small winged board without power, used for emergency descents by volplaning down from disabled aeros.]

"Oh, no," she said. "What you say we must do, we will do."

"We must go higher, Maida. Then, you see...."

He told her his plans. And mounting up there into the silent canopy of stars, his fingers wound themselves into the soft strands of her hair which lay upon him; and his heart beat fast with the nearness of her.... Told her his plans, and she acquiesced.

Twenty thousand feet. The cold was upon them. Shivering himself, he wrapped her in a fur which the basket contained. At 25,000, they took to the vol plan. It was a padded board a dozen feet long and half as wide. Released, it shot downward; a hundred feet or more, with the heavens whirling soundlessly. Then Georg got the wings open; the descent was checked; the stars righted themselves above, and once again the earth was beneath.

They had strapped themselves to the board, and now Georg undid the thongs. Together they lay prone, side by side, with the narrow, double-banked wings beneath the line of their shoulders, and the rudder-tail behind them. Flexible 'planes and tail, responding to Georg's grip on the controls.

Fluttering, uncertain at first, like a huge bird of quivering wings, they began their incline descent. A spiral, then Georg opened it to a straight glide northward—rushing downward and onward through the starlight, in a wind of their own making which fluttered the light fabric of Maida's robe and tossed her waves of hair about her.

A long, silent glide, with only the rush of wind. It seemed hours, while the girl did not speak and Georg anxiously searched the sky ahead. Underneath them, the dark forests were slipping past; but inexorably coming upward. They were down to 5,000 feet; then Georg saw at last what he had hoped, prayed for, but almost despaired of. A beam of light to the northward—the spreading beam of an oncoming patrol. It was high overhead; but it came forward fast. A sweeping, keenly searching beam, and finally it struck them. Clung to them.

And presently the big patrol vessel was almost above them. It hung there, a dark winged shape dotted with colored lights. A signal flash—a sharp command to Georg, but, of course, he could not answer. Then the Director's finder picked him out. The volan was fluttering, spiralling slowly as Georg struggled to hold his place.

And then the patrol launched its tender. It came darting down like a wasp. A moment more, and Georg and Maida were taken aboard it. The volan fluttered to the forest unguided and was lost in the black treetops, now no more than a thousand feet below.

Surrounded by amazed officials, Maida and Georg entered the patrol vessel. Georg Brende, escaped safely from Tarrano! The Brende secret released from Tarrano's control! The Director flashed the news to Washington and to Great London. Orders came back. A score of other vessels of this Patrol-Division came dashing up—a convoy which soon was speeding northward to Washington with its precious messenger.



CHAPTER XI

Recaptured

In Washington during those next few days, events of the Earth, Venus and Mars swirled and raged around Georg as though he were engulfed in the Iguazu or Niagara. Passive himself at first—a spectator merely; yet he was the keystone of the Earth Council's strength. The Brende secret was desired by the publics of all three worlds. Even greater than its real value as a medical discovery, it swayed the popular mind.

Tarrano possessed the Brende secret. The only model, and Dr. Brende's notes were in his hands. Washington had ordered him to give them up, and he had refused. But now the status was changed. Georg held the secret also—and Georg was in Washington. It left the Earth Council free to deal with Tarrano.

During those days Georg was housed in official apartments, with Maida very often near him. Inactive, they were much together, discussing their respective worlds. The Princess Maida was hereditary ruler of the Venus Central State—the only living heir to the throne. When Tarrano's forces threatened revolution from the Cold Country she had been seized by spies, brought to Earth, to Tarrano in Venia, and imprisoned in the tower from which Georg had so lately rescued her. Wolfgar for years had been her friend and loyal retainer, though he had pretended service to Tarrano.

In the Central State, Maida, too young to rule, had been represented by a Council. The public loved her—but a majority of it had gone astray when she disappeared—lured by Tarrano's glowing promises.

Maida told Georg all this with a sweet, gentle sadness that was pathetic. And with an earnest, patriotic fervor—the love of her country and her people for whom she would give her life.

She added: "If only I could get back there, Georg—I could make them realize the right course. I could win them again. Tarrano will play them false—you know it, and so do I."

Pathetic earnestness in this girl still no more than seventeen! And Georg, sitting beside her, gazing into her solemn, beautiful face, felt that indeed she could win them, with those limpid blue eyes and her words which rang with sincerity and truth.

They sat generally in an unofficial instrument room adjoining the government offices. A room high in a spire above the upper levels of the city. And around them rolled the momentous events of which they were the center.

The time limit of the Earth Council's ultimatum to Tarrano expired. Already Tarrano had answered it with defiance. But on the stroke of its expiration, came another note from him. Georg read it from the tape to Maida:

"To the Earth Council from Tarrano, its loyal subject——"

A grimly ironical note, yet so worded that the ignorant masses would not see its irony. It stated that Tarrano could not comply with the demand that he deliver himself and the Brende model to Washington because he did not have the model. It was on its way to Venus. He now proposed to recall it. He had already recalled it, in fact. He assured the Council that it was now on its way back, direct to Washington. He had done this because he felt that the Earth leaders were making a mistake—a grave mistake in the interests of their own people. Georg Brende was in Washington—that was true. But Georg Brende was a silly, conceited young man, flattered by his prominence in the public eye, his head turned by his own importance. Dr. Brende had been a genius. The son was a mere upstart, pretending to a scientific knowledge he did not have.

"Trickery!" exclaimed Georg. "But he knows the people may believe it. Some of them undoubtedly will."

"And you cannot thwart your public," Maida said. "Even your Earth Council, secure in its power, cannot do that."

"Exactly," Georg rejoined. He was indignant, as well he might have been. "Tarrano is trying to avoid being attacked. Time—any delay—is what he wants."

The note went on. Tarrano—seeking only the welfare of the people—could not stand by and see the Earth Council wreck its public. Tarrano had reconsidered his former note. The Brende model was vital, and since the Earth Council demanded the model (for the benefit of its people) the people should have it. In a few days it would be in Washington. Tarrano himself would not come to Washington. His doing that could not help the public welfare, and he was but human. The Earth Council had made itself his enemy; he could not be expected to trust his life in enemy hands.

The note closed with the suggestion that the Council withdraw its patrol from Venia. This talk of war was childish. Withdraw the patrol, and Tarrano himself might go back to Venus. He would wait a day for answer to this request; and if it were not granted—if the patrol were not entirely removed—then the Brende model would be destroyed. And if the publics of three worlds wished to depend upon a conceited, ignorant young man like Georg Brende for the everlasting life, they were welcome to do so.

A clever piece of trickery, and it was awkward to deal with. One had only to watch its effect upon the public to realize how insidious it was. Tarrano had told us—in the tower in Venia: "I shall have to bargain with them." And chuckled as he said it.

A series of notes from the Earth Council and back again, followed during the next few days. But the patrol was not withdrawn; nor was war declared. The Earth Council knew that Tarrano had not ordered the model back—nor would he destroy it. Yet if the Earth forces were to overwhelm Tarrano, and the model were lost, a revolution upon Earth could easily take place before Georg could convince the people that he was able to build them another model.

This delay—while Tarrano was held virtually a prisoner in Venia—was decided upon at the instigation of Georg himself. He—Georg—would address the publics of the three worlds. With Maida beside him to influence her own public in Venus, they would convince everyone that Georg had the secret—and that he alone would use it for the public good.

Youthful plans! Youthful enthusiasm! The belief that they could win confidence to their cause by the very truthfulness in their hearts! The belief that right makes might—which Tarrano would have told them was untrue!

Yet it was a good plan, and the Earth Council approved it, since it could do no harm to try. And it perhaps would have been successful but for one thing, of which even at that moment I—in Venia—was aware. Tarrano's trickery was not all on the surface. He had written into that note—by a code of diabolically ingenious wording—a secret message to his own spies in Washington. Commands for them to obey. A dozen of his spies were in the Earth government's most trusted, highest service—and some of them were there in Washington, close around Georg and Maida as they made their altruistic plan.

The attempt was to be made from the high-power sending station in the mountains of West North America.[13] Our observatory was there; and the only one of its kind on the Earth. It was equipped to send a radio voice audibly to every part of the Earth; and by helio, also to Mars and Venus, there to be re-transformed from light to sound and heard throughout those other worlds. And moving images of the speakers, seen on the finders all over the Earth, Venus and Mars simultaneously. The power, the generating equipment was at this station; and no matter where in the sky Venus or Mars might be, from the Mountain Station the vibrations of mingled light and sound were relayed elsewhere on Earth to other stations from which the helios could be flashed direct.

[Footnote 13: The Rocky Mountains, in the United States or possibly Alberta.]

To Skylan, as the Mountain Station was popularly called, Georg and Maida were taken in official aero under heavy convoy. Yet, even then, at their very elbows, spies of Tarrano must have been lurking.

The official flyer landed them on the broad stage amid deep, soft snow. It was night—a brief trip from the late afternoon, through dinner and they were there. A night of clear shining stars—brilliant gems in deep purple. Clear, crisp, rarefied air; a tumbling expanse of white, with the stars stretched over it like a close-hung canopy.

They were ushered into the low, rambling building. The attempt was to be made at once. Mars was mounting the eastern sky; and to the west, Venus was setting. Both visible from direct helios at that moment—Red Mars, from this mountain top, glowing like the tip of an arrant-cylinder up there.

In the brief time since the party had left Washington, the worlds had been notified. The eyes and ears of the millions of three planets were waiting to see and hear this Georg Brende and this Princess Maida.

The sending room was small, circular, and crowded with apparatus. And above its dome, opened to the sky, wherein the intensified helios shaded so that no ray of them might blind the operators, were sputtering as though eager to be away with their messages.

With a dozen officials around him, Georg prepared to enter the sending room. He had parted from Maida a few moments before, when she had left him to be shown to her apartment by the women attendants.

As she moved away, on impulse he had stopped her. "We shall succeed, Maida."

Her hand touched his arm. A brave smile, a nod, and she had passed on, leaving him standing there gazing after her with pounding heart. Pounding, not with excitement at the task before him in that sending room; pounding with the sudden knowledge that the welfare of this frail little woman meant more to him than the safety of all these worlds.

At last Georg stood in the sending room. The officials sat grouped around him. Maida had not yet arrived from her apartment. There was a small platform, upon which she and Georg were to stand together. He took his place upon it, waiting for her.

Before him was the sending disc; it glowed red as they turned the current into it. Then they illumined the mirrors; a circle of them, each with its image of Georg upon the platform. The white lights above him flashed on, beating down upon him with their hot, dazzling glare. The reflected beams from the mirrors, struck upward into the dome overhead. The helios up there were humming and sputtering loudly.

Beyond the circle of intense white light in which Georg was standing, the spectators sat in gloom behind the mirrors. Maida had not come. The Skylan Director, impatient ordered a woman to go for her.

Then, suddenly, Georg said to this Director:

"I—these lights—this heat. It makes me feel faint—standing here."

Georg had stumbled from the platform. Between two of the mirrors, shaded from the glare, the perturbed Director met him. Moisture beaded Georg's forehead.

"I'll—be quite all right in a moment. I'm going over there." He smiled weakly. A dozen feet away there was an opened outer casement. It looked down twenty feet, perhaps, to the deep snow that covered the station's grounds. The Director started with Georg; but Georg pushed him violently away.

"No! No! You let me alone!" His accents were those of a spoiled child. The Director hesitated, and Georg, with a hand to his forehead, wavered toward the casement. The Director saw him standing there; saw him sway, then fall or jump forward, and disappear.

They rushed outside. The snow was trampled all about with heavy footprints, but Georg had vanished. From the women's apartment, the attendant came back. The Princess Maida could not be found!

And in those moments of confusion, from outside across the starlit snow, an aero was rising. Silent, black—and no one saw it as it winged away into the night.



CHAPTER XII

Tara

I must revert now to those moments in the tower room when Tarrano dissolved the isolation barrage which Wolfgar had thrown around us. Georg escaped, as I have recounted. Tarrano—there in the tower room—rendered me unconscious. I came to myself on the broad divan and found Elza bending over me.

I sat up, dizzily, with the room reeling.

"Jac! Jac, dear——" She made me lie back, until I could feel the blood returning to my clammy face; and the room steadied, and the clanging of the gongs in my ears died away.

"I—why, I'm—all right," I gasped. And I lay there, clinging to her hand. Dear little Elza! In that moment of relief that I had come to my senses, she could not hide the love which even now was unspoken between us. Tarrano! I lay there weak and faint; but with the pressure of Elza's hand, I did not fear that this Tarrano could win her from me.

Wolfgar was standing across the room from us. He came forward.

"You did not die," he said; and smiled. "I told her you would not die."

It was now morning. Wolfgar and Elza told me I had been unconscious some hours. We were still imprisoned as before in the tower. Georg had escaped with Maida, they said; or at least, they hoped so. And they described the burning of the other tower. The city had been in a turmoil. It still was; I could hear now the shouts of the crowd outside. And turning as I lay there, through the casement I could see the blackened, still smoking ruins of Maida's tower; the broken iron terrace; the spider bridge melted away, hanging loose and dangling like an aimless pendulum.

The latest news, Elza and Wolfgar could not give me. The instrument room of our tower had been disconnected by Tarrano when he left some hours before. As they said it, we heard a familiar buzz; then the drone of an announcer's voice. Tarrano's guard had doubtless observed my recovery and had had orders to throw current into our instruments. Strange man, this Tarrano! He wished the news spread before us again. Confident of his own dominance over every crisis, he wanted Elza and me to hear it as it came from the discs.

We went to the instrument room. I found myself weak, but quite uninjured. Elza left us there, and went to prepare food which I needed to strengthen me.

The public events of those hours and days following, I have recounted as Georg saw them and took part in them in Washington. We observed them, here in the tower, with alternate hopes and fears. Our life of imprisonment went on much as before. Occasionally, Tarrano visited us, always making us sit like children before him, while at his ease he reclined on our divan.

But he would never give us much real information; the man always was an enigma.

"Your friend Georg has a wonderful plan," he announced to us ironically early one evening. He smiled his caustic smile. "You have seen the tape?"

"Yes," I said. It was Georg's plan to address with Maida, the publics of Earth, Venus and Mars.

Tarrano nodded. "He and the Princess are going to convince everyone that I am an impostor."

I did not answer that; and abruptly he chuckled. "That would be unfortunate for me—if they could do that. Do you think they'll be able to?"

"I hope so," I said.

He laughed openly. "Of course. But they will not. That long note of mine to your government—you read it, naturally. But you didn't read in it my secret instructions to my agents in Washington, did you? Well, they were there in it—my commands—the letters ending its words made another message."

He was amused at our discomfiture. "Simple enough? Yet really an intricate code in itself. It made the phrasing of the main note a little difficult to compose, that was all." He sat up with his accustomed snap of alertness, and his face turned grim. "Georg will never address his audience. Nor the Princess—she will never appear before those sending mirrors. I have seen to that." Again he was chuckling. "No, no, I could not let them do a thing like that. They might turn people against me."

Elza began indignantly: "You—you are——"

His gesture checked her. "Your brother is quite safe, Lady Elza. And the Princess Maida also. Indeed, they are on the point of falling in love with each other. Natural! And perfectly right. It is as I would have it."

His strong brown fingers were rubbing each other with his satisfaction. "Curious, Lady Elza—how fortunate I am in all my plans."

"I don't think you are," I said. "Our government has you a prisoner here. They didn't withdraw the patrol as you demanded, did they?"

He frowned a trifle. "No. That was too bad. I rather hoped they would. It would have been a stupid thing for them to do—but still, I almost thought they'd do it."

I shook my head. "What they will do is sweep down here and overwhelm you."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

He shifted himself to a more comfortable position. "They are playing for time—so that when I fail to produce the model as I agreed, then the public will realize I am not to be trusted."

"Exactly," I said.

"Well, I am playing for time, also."

He seemed so willing to discuss the thing that I grew bolder.

"What have you to gain by playing for time?" I demanded.

He stared. "You would question me, Jac Hallen? How absurd!" He looked at Elza, as though to share with her his amazement at my temerity.

Wolfgar said suddenly to Tarrano: "You will gain nothing."

Tarrano's face went impassive. I understood him better now; that cold, inscrutable look often concealed his strongest emotions. He said evenly:

"I should prefer you not to address me, Wolfgar. A traitor such as you—the sound of your voice offends me."

It struck me then as very strange—as it had for days before—that Tarrano should have failed to punish Wolfgar. I would have expected death; least of all, that Tarrano would have allowed Wolfgar to live here in the tower, in comparative ease and comfort. Tarrano's words now answered my unspoken questions. He was not looking at Wolfgar, but at Elza.

"You, Wolfgar—deserve death. You know why I cannot kill you? Why I let you stay here in the tower?" A faint, almost wistful smile parted his thin lips; he did not take his eyes from Elza.

"I am greatly handicapped, Wolfgar. The Lady Elza here would not like to have me put you to death. She would not even care to have me mistreat you. She is very tender hearted." He raised a deprecating hand. "Ah, Lady Elza, does that surprise you? You never told me I must be lenient with this traitor? Of course not."

"I——" Elza began, but he stopped her.

"You see, Lady Elza, I have already learned to obey you." He was smiling very gently. "Learned to obey even your unspoken commands."

I wondered how much of this attitude might be sincere, and how much calculated trickery. Could Elza, indeed, control him?

She must have had much the same thought, for she said with a forced smile: "You give me a great deal of power. If you—wish to obey me, you'll set us free—send us all to Washington."

That amused him. "Ah, but I cannot do that."

She gained confidence. "You are willing to be very gracious in things which do not inconvenience you, Tarrano. It is not very impressive."

He looked hurt. "You misinterpret. I will do for you anything I can. But you must remember, Lady Elza, that my judgment is better than yours. I would not let you lead us into disaster. You are a gentle little woman. Your instincts are toward humane treatment of everyone—toward mercy rather than justice. In all such things, I shall be guided by you. Justice—tempered with mercy. A union very, very beautiful, Lady Elza ... But, you see, beyond that—you are wrong. I am a man, and in the big things I must dominate. It is I who guide, and you who follow. You see that, don't you?"

The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. And my heart sank as I watched Elza. Her gaze fell, and a flush mantled her cheeks. Tarrano added quietly: "We shall have no difficulty, you and I, Lady Elza. Each of us a place, and a duty. A destiny together...."

He broke off and rose quickly to his feet. "Enough. I have been weak to say so much as this."

He turned to leave us, and I became aware of a woman's figure standing in the shadows of the archway across the room. She started forward as Tarrano glanced her way. A Venus woman of the Cold Country. Yet, obviously, one of good birth and breeding. A woman of perhaps 30 years, beautiful in the Venus cast; dressed in the conventional bodice breast-plates and short skirt, with grey stockings and sandals.

Within the room, she regarded Tarrano silently. There was about her a quiet dignity; she stood with her tall, slim figure drawn to its full height. Her pure white hair was coiled upon her head, with a rich metal ornament to fasten it. And from it, a mantle of shimmering blue fabric hung down her back.

Tarrano said: "What are you doing up here? I told you to wait below."

Her face showed no emotion. But there was a glitter to her eyes, a glow in their grey depths like alumite in the hydro-flame of a torch.

She said slowly: "Master, I think it would be very correct if you would let me stay here and serve the Lady Elza. I told you that before, but you would not listen."

Tarrano, with sudden decision, swung toward Elza. "This is the Elta[14] Tara. She was concerned that I should allow you to dwell here alone with this Jac Hallen, and this traitor from Mars." His tone conveyed infinite contempt for us.

[Footnote 14: Elta—a term or title denoting rank by birth.]

The woman said quickly: "The Lady Elza would be glad of my companionship." She shot a swift glance to Elza. What it was meant to convey, I could not have said. Perhaps Elza understood it, or thought she did. She spoke up.

"I would like to have you very much, indeed." She added to Tarrano, and there was on her face a look of feminine guile:

"You, of course, could not refuse me so small a favor? After all your protestations——"

He gestured impatiently. "Very well." And he added to Tara: "You will serve the Lady Elza as she directs."

He stalked away into the darkened passage. In the gloom there, he stopped and again faced us; the light from a small blue tube in there illumined him dimly. He was smiling ironically.

"I shall maintain the instruments for you. The mirrors will show you Georg and Maida. They are just about arriving at the Mountain Station. Watch them! You will see how far they progress with their wonderful speeches."

He left us. We heard his measured tread as he stalked down the tower incline. The barrage about the tower was lifted momentarily as he went out. Then it came on again, with its glow beyond our casements, and its low electrical whine.

I was just turning back to the room when a sound behind me made me face sharply about. My heart leaped into my throat. The woman Tara had produced from about her person a weapon of some kind. She thought she was unobserved, but from the angle at which I stood, I saw her. A gleaming metal object was in her hand. And then she launched it—a small flat disc of metal, thin, and with its circular edge keen as a knife-blade.

Whirling with a very soft hum hardly audible, it left her hand and floated upward across the room. Circling the casements up near the ceiling, and then heading downward straight for Elza! And I saw, too, that the woman was guiding it by a tiny radio-control.

The thing was so unexpected that I stood gaping. But only for an instant. I saw the deadly whirling knife-disc sailing for Elza.... It would strike her ... shear her white throat....

With a shout of horror and anger, I leaped for the woman. But Wolfgar, too, had seen the disc and he went into action quicker than I. The divan was beside him. He snatched up a pillow; flung it upward at the disc. The soft pillow struck the disc; together, entangled, they fell harmlessly to the floor.

I was upon the woman, snatching the handle of the control-wire from her hand, wrenching its connection loose from her robe. Under my onslaught, she fell; and I kneeled beside her, gripping her while she tore at me and screamed with hysterical, murderous frenzy.



CHAPTER XIII

Love—and Hate

I did not harm this Tara, though I was sorely tempted to; and after a moment we quieted her. She was crying and laughing by turns; but when we seated her on the divan she controlled herself and fell into a sullen silence. Elza, pale and frightened at her escape, faced the woman, and waved Wolfgar and me aside. Strange little Elza! Resolute, she stood there, and would brook no interference with her purpose. Wolfgar and I withdrew a pace or two and stood watching them.

Tara's breast was heaving with her pent emotion. She sat drooping on the divan, her face buried in her hands.

Elza said gently: "Why did you do that, Tara?"

There was no answer; only the woman's catching breath as she struggled with her sobs. Across the background of my consciousness came the thought that Tarrano or one of his guards would doubtless momentarily appear to investigate all this turmoil. And I was vaguely conscious also that from our instrument room the sounds of an unusual activity were coming. But I did not heed them. Elza was insisting:

"Why did you do that, Tara? Why should you want to harm me?"

Tara looked up. "You have stolen the man I love."

"I?"

"Yes. Tarrano——"

She broke off, set her lips firmly together as though to repress further words; and her fine grey eyes, filled with unbidden tears, were smoldering to their depths with hate.

Impulsively Elza sank to the floor beside the woman. But Tara drew away.

Elza said: "Tarrano—he is a wonderful man, Tara. A genius—the greatest figure of these three worlds...."

My heart sank to hear her say it!

"... a genius, Tara. You should be proud to love him...."

"You——" The woman's writhing fingers seemed about to reach for Elza. I took a sudden step forward, then relaxed. Elza added quickly:

"But I would not steal Tarrano from you. Don't you realize that?"

"No!"

"But it's true."

"No! No! You have stolen him! With your queer Earth beauty—that colored hair of yours—those rounded limbs—you've bewitched him! I can see it. You can't lie to me! I made him angry once and he admitted it."

"No, I tell you!"

"I say yes. You've stolen him from me. He loves you—and he mocks and laughs at me——"

"Tara, wait. I do not love Tarrano, I tell you. I would not have him——" How my heart leaped to hear her say it so convincingly. She added:

"He loves me, perhaps—but I can't help that. He has me prisoner here. I am forced——"

"You lie! You are playing to win him! What girl would refuse? You say yourself he is the greatest man of the ages. You lie when you tell me you do not want him!"

Elza had taken the woman by the shoulders. "Tara, listen—you must listen! Are you mated with Tarrano?"

"No! But years ago he promised me. I took his name then, as we do in the Cold Country. They still call me Tara! Years I have waited, true to my promise—with even my name of maidenhood relinquished. His name—Tara! And now he tosses me aside—because you, only an Earth woman, have bewitched him."

"I didn't want to bewitch him, Tara." Elza's voice was very gentle; and a whimsical smile was plucking at her lips. "You think I want him because he is a genius—the greatest man of our time?"

"Yes!"

"Is that why you want him?"

"No, I love him."

"You loved him before he was very great, didn't you?"

"Yes. Back in the Cold Country. When he was only a boy—and I was no more than a girl half grown. I love him for himself, I tell you——"

Elza interrupted; and her voice risen to greater firmness, held a quality of earnest pleading.

"Wait, Tara! You love Tarrano for himself—because you are a woman capable of love. It is the man you love—not his deeds, or his fame or his destiny. Isn't that so?"

"Yes. I——"

"Then won't you give me credit for being a woman with instincts as fine as your own? The love of a good woman goes unbidden. You can't win it by conquering worlds and flinging them at her feet. Tarrano thinks you can. He thinks to dazzle me with his feats of prowess. He wants to buy my love with thrones for me to grace as queen. He thinks my awe and fear of him are love. He thinks a woman's love is born of respect, and admiration, and promises of wealth. But you and I, Tara—we know it isn't. We know it's born of a glance—born in poverty and sickness—adversity—every ill circumstance—born without reason—for no reason at all. Just born! And if anything else gives it birth—it is not a true woman's love. You and I know that, Tara. Don't you see?"

Tara was sobbing unrestrainedly now, and Elza, with arms around her, went on:

"You should be proud to love Tarrano. If I loved him, I would be proud of him, too. But I do not——"

A step sounded near at hand. Tarrano stood in the archway, with arms folded, regarding us sardonically.



CHAPTER XIV

Defying Worlds

"So?" Tarrano eyed us, evidently in no hurry to speak further, seemingly amused at our confusion. Had he heard much of what the two women had said? All of it, or most of it, doubtless, with his instruments as he approached. But, even with the knowledge of Elza's vehement appraisal of him, he seemed now quite imperturbable. His gaze touched me and Wolfgar, then returned to the women.

"So? It would seem, Tara, that your plan to wait upon the Lady Elza was not very successful." He dropped the irony, adding crisply: "Tara, come here!"

She rose to her feet obediently, and stood facing him. Humble, fearful, yet a trifle defiant. For a moment he frowned upon her thoughtfully; then he said to Elza:

"Your policy of mercy is very embarrassing, Lady Elza." He made a deprecating gesture, and again his eyes were twinkling. "This woman threatened your life. My guards were lax—though I must admit they had good excuse, with the other tasks which I thrust upon them.... Your life was threatened—you escaped by the merest chance of fortune. You know, of course, what justice would bid me do to this would-be murderess?"

Elza was on her feet, standing beside Tara. She did not answer.

Tarrano now was smiling. "I must let her go unpunished? Embarrassing, this merciful policy to which you have committed me! Yet—your will is my law as you know—though I feel that some day it will involve us in disaster.... You, Tara, will not be punished, much as you deserve it." He paused, then said as an afterthought: "You, Jac Hallen, I thank you for what you tried to do in thwarting the attack. You acted in very clumsy fashion—but, at least, you doubtless did your best." Gravely he turned to Wolfgar. "I shall not forget, Wolfgar, that, in an emergency, you saved the life of Lady Elza.... Enough! These are busy moments. You chose an awkward time to raise this turmoil. Come with me—all of you."

He summoned Argo and two other guards. Unceremoniously, and with more haste than I had ever seen in Tarrano, he led us from the building. A hint of his purpose came to me, as he bade Elza gather up her few personal belongings, and gave them to a guard to carry.

In a group, he herded us across the spider bridge. It was early evening, but night had fully fallen. The city was ablaze with its colored lights. We crossed the bridge, passed through a tunnel-arcade, and came out to a platform which was at the base of a skeleton tower. Its naked girders rose some seven hundred feet above us. The highest structure in the city. A waiting lifting-car was there. We entered, and it shot us upward.

At the top, the narrowed structure was enclosed into a single room some thirty feet square. A many-windowed room, with a small metal balcony surrounding it outside. Immediately above the room, at the very peak of the tower, was a single, powerful light-beam; its silver searching ray swept the cloudless, starry sky in a slow circle.

The room was crowded with instruments. Unlighted, save by the reflected glow of its many image-mirrors, all of which seemed in full operation. A dozen intent men sat at the tables; a silent room, but for the hum and click of the instruments.

Tarrano said softly: "We have been very busy while you below were engaged with your petty hates."

He seated himself at a table apart, upon which was a single mirror, and he gathered us around him. The mirror was dark. He called:

"Rax—let me see Mars—you have them by relay? The Hill City?"

The mirror flashed on. From an aperture overhead, a tiny beam of the blue helio-transformer came down to it. In the mirror I saw an image of the familiar Hill City. A terraced slope, dotted with the cubical buildings, spires and tunnel mouths. An empty channel[15] curved down across the landscape from the north.

[Footnote 15: Canal, as it now is thought to be.]

A distant scene, empty and lifeless save for black puffs which rose in the air above the city.

Tarrano called impatiently: "Closer, Rax!"

The image dissolved, blurred; turned red, violet, then white. We seemed now upon a height close above the city. It was seething with confusion. Fighting going on in the streets. Animals and men, fighting; a crowd of the Little People thronging a public square, with beasts of war charging them.

The Hairless Men; I had heard of them, with their animals trained to fight, while they—the humans—lurked behind. A mysterious, almost grewsome race, to us who live on Earth—these hairless dwellers of the underground Mars. Dead-white of skin; sleek and hairless; heavily muscled from the work of their world; and almost blind from living in the dark.

They were swarming now into the Hill City of the ruling Little People. The beasts, at their commands, were running wild through the streets ... dripping jaws, tearing at the women ... the children....

I felt Elza turn away, shuddering.

Tarrano chuckled. "The revolt. It came, of course, as I planned. This Little People government—it was annoying ... Colley!"

"Master?"

"Send the message, Colley. Fling it audibly over Mars! Tell the rulers of the Little People that if they send up the green bomb of surrender—Tarrano will spare them further bloodshed. Tell them that I am not giving the Brende secret to Earth. In a moment I shall defy the Earth Council. Promise them that the Brende secret is going to Mars. Assure them they will have everlasting life for everyone.... Wohl!"

"Master?"

"Give me the Cave Station."

The mirror went dark. Then it turned a dazzling yellow. A cavern in the interior of Mars. A dark scene of wavering yellow torches. Around a table of instruments sat a score of hairless men. Tarrano snatched up a mouthpiece—murmured slowly into it. I could see the leader of the hairless men nod after a time, as the message reached him. And I saw him turn away to issue swift orders as Tarrano had commanded.

Tarrano said brusquely: "Enough!... Wohl!"

The mirror went dark. A voice called: "Master, the green bomb has gone up from the Hill City! Do you wish to see?"

"No.... Give me Venus. Olgan! Are they quiet on Venus?"

"Yes, Master."

"Congratulate them that we have conquered the Little People. Tell them Mars is ours now! Tell them I am coming to Venus at once—with the Brende model...."

"Master, you wish to see Venus? I have direct communication——"

Another voice interrupted. "The Earth Council, Master! They demand an explanation of why you say the Brende model is going to Mars. You have promised it to Earth. They demand——"

Tarrano rasped: "Tell them to wait ... I don't want Venus, Olgan.... Megar! Give me the Earth Mountain Station."

He turned to me, and his voice dropped again to that characteristic sardonic drawl:

"We must see how your friend Georg Brende is faring."

The mirror showed Georg, standing irresolute on the platform before the sending discs.

Tarrano called: "The Princess Maida—can't you locate her?"

The scene blurred momentarily, then showed us the outside of the Station. A white expanse of snow, with purple starlit sky above. From a side door of the building, as we watched, the figures of two women appeared. A woman leading Maida. As they came out, with Maida all unsuspecting, from the shadows a group of men pounced upon them—dragged Maida away.

Tarrano laughed. "Enough!... Show me Georg Brende again.... Hurry!"

We saw Georg waver and leap through the window, fall into the snow, where, from the shadows of the building, other men rushed out upon him ... hurried him away after the captive Maida....

Tarrano's laugh was grim and triumphant. "Ha! We win there, also! Enough! Nunz? Nunz—now you can give me the Earth Council! Where is it sitting? Washington, or Great London?"

"Washington, Master."

"Very well.... No, never mind connecting me. You speak for me. Tell them I've changed my mind. The Brende model is not coming to Washington. Tell them Georg Brende is lost to them, also. Tell them I declare war! Tarrano the Conqueror declares war on the Earth! Tell them that, with my compliments. Tell them to come down here and overwhelm me—it ought to be very easy!"



CHAPTER XV

Escape

That Tarrano should thus defy the Earth, when by every law of rational circumstance the move seemed to spell only his own disaster, was characteristic of the man. He stood there in the instrument room at the peak of the skeleton tower in Venia and rasped out to the Earth Council his defiance. Silence followed—silence unbroken save by the hiss and click of the instruments as the message was sent.

And then Tarrano ordered thrown upon himself the lights and sending mirrors so that his own image might be available to all of the public and Earth officials who cared to look upon it. Within the circle of mirrors he stood drawn to his full height; his eyes flashing, heavy brows lowered, and a sardonic smile—almost a leer—pulling at his thin lips. The embodiment of defiance. Yet to those who knew him well—as I was beginning to know him—there was in his eyes a gleam of irony, as though even in this situation he saw humor. A game, with worlds and nations as his pawns—a game wherein, though he had apparently lost, with the confidence of his genius he knew that the hidden move he was about to make would extricate him.

"Enough," he rasped.

The mirrors went dark. He turned away; and still without appearance of haste he drew Wolfgar, Elza and me to the balcony. Together we stood gazing over the lights of the city below us.

A cloudless, starry sky. Empty of air-craft; but to the north just below the horizon, we knew that the line of war vessels was hovering. Even now, doubtless, they had their orders to descend upon us. Tarrano seemed waiting, and I suppose we stood there half an hour. Occasionally he would sight an instrument toward the north; and by the orders he gave at intervals I knew that preparations for action on his part were under way.

Half an hour. Then abruptly from below the northern horizon lights came up—spreading colored beams. The Earth war vessels! A line of them as far as we could see from left to right, mounting up into the sky as they winged their way toward us—a line spreading out in a broad arc. And then, behind us, I saw others appear. We were surrounded.

It was a magnificent, awe-inspiring sight, that vast ring of approaching colored lights. Red, green and purple—slowly moving eyes. Light-rockets sometimes mounting above them, to burst with a soundless glare of white light in the sky; and underneath, the spreading white search-beams, sweeping down to the dark forest that lay all about us.

Soon, in the white glare of the bombs, we could distinguish the actual shapes of the vessels. Still Tarrano did not move from his place by the balcony rail. He stood there, with a hand contemplatively under his chin, as though absorbed by an interest in the scene purely impersonal. Was he going to give himself up? Stand there inactive while these armed forces of the most powerful world in the Solar System swept down upon him?

Abruptly he snapped his instrument back to his belt. He had not used it since the hostile lights had appeared. Previously, I knew, he had been watching those lights, with the curved ray of the instrument when the lights themselves had been below the horizon.

He turned now to me. "They are here, Jac Hallen. Almost here. And I am at their mercy." His tone was ironic; then it hardened into grimness. He was addressing me, but I knew it was for Elza's benefit he spoke.

"I came here to Earth, Jac Hallen, for certain things. I find them now accomplished. I belong here no longer." He laughed. "I would not force myself into a war prematurely. That would be very unwise. I think—we shall have to avoid this—engagement. I am—slightly outnumbered."

He called an order, quite calmly over his shoulder. I suppose, at that moment, the Earth war vessels were no more than five miles away. The whole sky was a kaleidoscope of darting lights. In answer to his order, from the peak of our tower a light bomb mounted—a vertical ray of green light. The bomb of surrender!

Tarrano chuckled. "That should halt them. Come! We must start."

He held a brief colloquy with a Venus man who appeared beside him. The man nodded and hastened back into the instrument room. The green light of our bomb had died away. The lights in the sky began fading—the whole sky fading, turning to blackness! I became aware that Tarrano had thrown around our tower a temporary isolation barrage. For a few moments—while the current he had at his command could hold it—we could not be seen on the image finders of the advancing vessels.

Tarrano repeated: "That should hold them—I have surrendered! They should be triumphant. And outside our barrage, our men will bargain with them. Ten minutes! We should be able to hold them off that long at least. Come, Lady Elza. We must start now."

With a scant ceremony in sharp contrast to his courteous words to Elza, he hurried us off. Three of us—Elza, Wolfgar and myself, with one attendant who still carried Elza's personal belongings. Hurried us into the vertical car which had brought us up into the tower. It descended now, down the iron skeleton shaft. Outside the girders I could see only the blackness of the barrage, with faint snapping sparks.

Silently we descended. It seemed very far down. And suddenly I realized that we were going lower than the ground level. The barrage sparks had vanished. The blackness now was a normal darkness; and in it I could see slipping upward the smooth black sides of the vertical shaft into which we were dropping. And the sulphuric smell of the barrage was gone. The air now smelt of earth—the heavy, close air of underground.

I do not know how far down we went. A thousand feet perhaps. The thing surprised me. Yet in those moments my mind encompassed it; and many of Tarrano's motives which I had not reasoned out before now seemed plain. He had come from Venus to the Earth, possibly several months ago. Had come directly here to Venia and set up his headquarters. His purpose on Earth—as he had just told me—did not lie with warfare. While he was here his forces had conquered the Great City of Venus, and just now, the Hill City of Mars. He controlled Venus and Mars—but he was still far from ready to attack the Earth.

He had come to the Earth in person for several important purposes. For one—he desired the Brende model and Dr. Brende's notes. He had them now; they were, in reality, at this present moment in the Great City of Venus. Also, with the Brende secret—to control it absolutely—he had to have Georg Brende. Well, as I was soon to realize, Georg was now his captive. And the Princess Maida? His purpose in holding her was two-fold. She had, now as always in the Venus Central State, a tremendous sentimental sway upon her people. Tarrano had abducted her, forcibly to remove her from the scene of action, so that during her unexplained absence his propaganda would have more influence. He had brought her here to Earth; and now his plan was to have Georg Brende and her fall in love with each other. He still hoped to win Georg to his cause, by giving him the Princess Maida, if for no other reason. And with Maida married to Georg—and Georg in Tarrano's service—Maida herself would turn her influence in Venus to consolidate her people to Tarrano.

These, in part, were Tarrano's present plans and motives. They were working out well. And—as he had said—the Earth did not concern him now as a battle-ground. Later ... But even with this sudden insight which seemed to come to me, I was inadequate to grasp what later he was to attempt.

While thus occupied with my thoughts, we were steadily descending into the ground under Venia—dropping out of sight while above us, perhaps by now, the eager warcraft of Earth were overwhelming the city. Tarrano had not spoken; but when at last our little car bumped gently at the bottom, he said smilingly: "We are here, Lady Elza."

We left the car, and passed into a dim-lighted cavern. I saw a lateral black tunnel-mouth yawning nearby, with a shining rail at its top and bottom, one above the other. And between the rails was a metal vehicle. A long, narrow car; yet with its turtle-back and its propelling gas-tube at the rear, with a rudder on each side of the tube, I realized that it was designed also for sub-sea travel. A small affair. Ten feet at its greatest width, and fifty or sixty feet long.

There was nothing startling in this evidence of underground and sub-sea transportation. But that it should be here in primitive Venia surprised me. Then I realized that Tarrano had been here perhaps many months. Quietly, secretly he had constructed this underground road. For his escape, I could not doubt it. Indeed, I did not doubt but that the man had anticipated practically every event which had occurred.

We found in the car, or boat if you will, a variety of attendants and personal belongings. Tara was there; I saw her sitting alone on one of the distant rings of seats. And Argo was among us—and others whom I had learned to know by sight and name. It was the party and equipment which Tarrano had probably originally brought with him from Venus. We, the last arrivals in the car, took our places. The doors slid closed. The car vibrated slightly; purred with its forward motors. We were started.

It was not a long trip. How far we went I have no means of knowing. But after a time, by the changed motion and sounds, I realized that we were traversing water. Then above us after another interval, they opened a hatchway. The pure fresh air of night streamed in upon us. Every light in the boat had been extinguished. At Tarrano's command I followed him up the small spider incline and through the hatchway. We stood on a little circular space of the turtle-deck, well aft—an observation space enclosed by a low metal rail. A few feet below us dark glossy water was slipping past.

At a lazy hasteless pace, we were passing along what I saw to be a broad river. The Riola Amazonia[16] I afterward learned it to be. Heavy banks of luxurious foliage, dark and silent. Inundated in places. And after a few moments we slackened, turned sharply into one of the inundated coves and nosed slowly amid a tangle of the jungle bank.

[Footnote 16: Evidently the upper Amazon.]

And then I saw, hidden here in the recesses of this pathless forest, a small inter-planetary flyer, painted a hazy grey-blue. Around and over it the vegetation had been carefully, cunningly trained. A few cautious lights illumined it now; but without them, and even in daylight, I knew that from above it could never be seen.

Our party entered it—a small but surprisingly luxurious vessel. The foliage from above it was cut away by ready workmen; and in half an hour more we were rising from the forest. Straight up, into that cloudless sky. The land dropped away beneath us; visually concave at first as the circular horizon seemed to rise with us. The sky overhead fortunately was empty—nothing in sight to bar our outward flight. And we carried no lights.

In a moment or two, so swiftly did we gather velocity, the lights of Venia—a distant patch of them—were visible. Then, further away, I presently saw the grey expanse of open sea. And as we mounted, the simulated concavity of the Earth turned convex. I had never seen it thus—had never been so far above its surface before. A huge grey ball down there which was our Earth. Outlines of sea and land. Then continents and oceans, enveloped by patches of cloud area. A grey ball, changing to a glowing, vaguely dull red; then silver. Dwindling—gleaming brighter silver on one side where the sunlight struck it.