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MOON MAID AT THE EARTH'S CORE by ANDY NUNEZ
CHAPTER TEN - MOON BOUND
I was tired. I had already flown nearly four hundred miles from Sari to Phutra, and now need to fly twice that distance to the Land of the Awful Shadow. I don't know how long the flight took. It was noon when I left Phutra, and it was noon as I passed over the sea on my way to Thuria, above which hung Pellucidar's moon. Either the aircraft of the Race—the inhabitants of the moon—had a tremendous range for their size or they had some gasoline stocks positioned at various points to allow refueling.
I found the later likely since Jehoida was carrying two people in his bat-winged fighter, twice the normal passenger weight. I flew high once more, to conserve fuel. The overview of the vast expanse of the Lural Az was spectacular, but I was too far up to see any of the great sea monsters that teemed in the oceans of Pellucidar.
Making land, my map indicated I was crossing onto the Lidi Plains, noted for its herds of tamable diplodicus. Ahead of me, growing larger by the minute, was the odd sphere of Pellucidar's moon.
My first impression reminded me of a schoolroom globe except that the features were not the continents of earth's surface. Like Pellucidar itself the moon seemed more land than water, but the orb was veined with rivers and clotted with large lakes, proportionate to the seas on Pellucidar proper. Soon the moon loomed before me, casting its dark cloak across Thuria's landscape. I noted on my approach that it rotated slowly in an exact parallel to the surface below. With night and day, it was a question whether the inhabitants were constrained by time as on the outer surface, and so aged normally, or was it as meaningless there as it was below?
A million questions entered my mind while I looked at my destination. As it grew, I pondered a plan of action. At the same time I examined, as I did every few seconds (and those seconds were based on the instincts every pilot uses), the P-38's fuel guage. Descending from 1,000 feet, I selected a vast open and treeless area far from the immense dark shapes of grazing diplodicus. The grass was short, perhaps five inches thick. The tires touched down and rolled as smoothly as if tarmac.
Lightning stepped on my shoulder and leapt out before the electric canopy fully opened. Like a tawny streak the big cat raced toward one of the herds of giant reptiles. I fully appreciated the cat's desire to get out of the plane because I was stiff from hours of flying.
After stretching a bit, I cut the half-empty fuel tank from the wing and began refueling the fighter. I wanted the P-38 fully fueled before making the ascent to the moon. I also did not want to have any extra weight as expressed in the cylinder itself. There might be a need to be agile as I entered the Race's airspace.
When the first tank was empty and the hand pump stowed. I ate some of the food in the starboard boom. At the same time I looked at two of the books I'd brought out of the Mahar city. The maps interested me, and I had no difficulty reading those, but the rows of ciphers of strange shape and appearance were completely baffling. I was not, however, unaware of where I was or the dangers of the land and its inhabitants. Quick surveys, both short and distant, scanned the area and my hand was never far from a weapon.
The meal over, I soon gave up making heads or tails of the Mahar books and put them back in the boom. Plane and body refueled, I was ready to go, yet Lightning had not returned. Where was the sabertooth?
While waiting, I recalled David Innes' descriptions of the pendant world's surface as having plain, but easily identifiable features. I saw them, from a distance of perhaps 75 miles, and wondered where the civilization of the Race was hidden, since it was never talked about in any of the pulp stories I read as a youth.
"Lightning!" My patience, and I am generally considered a patient man, had worn thin. Grabbing the rifle, I double-timed in the direction the cat had taken. "Lightning! Here, boy! Time to go!"
A quarter-mile later I started hearing something, something like beasts in battle. The double-time dropped into a wary approach as the sounds grew louder, yet I still could see nothing but a vast plain of grass and—
Hello!
In a low basin perhaps 50 yards across and little more than 5 feet below ground level, Lightning was in mortal combat with four prehistoric dogs near half again his size! The cat had given good account if the bleeding, ragged flesh of two of the dogs was token, but so too, had Lightning been ripped because there was blood at his neck and chest.
"That's my cat!" I shouted. Running forward, raising the rifle, I felt stupid for exposing myself to such danger. But as I could not abandon Ee-la-nah I could not abandon the sabertooth.
My shout changed the dynamics. The dogs looked at me and in that instant Lightning ripped out the throat of the nearest. The beast's dying howl caused the others to rush on the cat. The sharp report of my rifle froze all but Lightning, who raced to my side. The slug bowled one of the dogs over. I fired three more times at the others, missing two, but the surprise, the deaths, and the cat beyond their range made the remainder of the pack run away.
Lightning pressed against my leg, teeth bared to the pack, but the creature trembled so violently that I knew the cat had faced death for the first time.
"That's a crock!" I said to myself, kneeling to both caress the animal and examine its wounds. "You don't think, do you boy?" I said as the great head turned toward me. "You're just a dumb animal. Right?"
Lightning's affectionate head butt knocked me off-balance. Laughing, I scratched behind his ears. The sabertooth's eyes closed momentarily with pleasure, then commenced to clean his small wounds and fur. I waited until the cat was again calm. Then waited a while longer when Lightning went down to one of the two dead canines and commenced to feed.
I started back to the P-38, taking my time. I did the usual pre-flight walk around the aircraft then settled into the pilot's seat. I must have dozed because the next thing I remember was a vibration from the wing as Lightning eased himself behind me.
Feeling rested and ready, I cranked the engines and took off. Soon, I was nearer than any inhabitant of Pellucidar or the surface had ever come to the moon. I began to perceive glints of metal at various locations, and smudges issuing from the ground itself. Then, from the top of the moon's sphere, one of those black painted dirigibles lifted, seemingly from nowhere, and began to sail in my direction.
I had learned to fly near to the ground in combat, to watch out for other planes and obstacles, but never had I been trained to dogfight next to a celestial object. However, as I approached to within a few miles of the moon, its subtle gravity began to play with my sense of balance, I began to grow dizzy. All the while, the evil looking airship drew near me. I checked my guns, and began to veer toward it, shaking my head to clear it. Lightning complained from the rear area, and I knew the strain was affecting him as well.
As I turned, gunfire erupted from the black craft. At least half a dozen weapons were trained on me, but their aim was poor, and I only heard a couple of shots whine off the wings. I fired a short burst at the rigid cigar shape, ignoring the continuing stream of bullets from its gondola. My attack bore fruit, and the ballonets inside the dirigible's cells ignited in a chain reaction, sending a series of fireballs erupting along its surface. The gondola fell away from the burning wreckage and tumbled toward Thuria's surface. It was certain death for its occupants, and I saw some leap out. Parachutes blossomed for a few, but some either had defective ones, or none at all.
I felt like I had replayed a bizarre scene from G-8 and his Battle Aces, or some other pulp aviation warrior. I looped over and decided to fly along the curve of the moon, as close to its surface as possible. This proved to be a smart thing, because when I came to within a thousand feet or so of the surface, my dizziness ceased because I was no longer in conflict between two competing gravities. I stayed on the lighted side of the moon, and looked for a flat, yet secluded place to land. I had no idea where on the moon Ee-la-nah was, so I was hoping to find a rural area where the Race's grip was lessened and make inquiries among the locals. The fact that Jehoida spoke the common tongue of Pellucidar meant that the Race did also, which meant a common beginning for all those of the Inner World.
How, I wondered, if all races had a common origin, did the Race come to the moon from the surface? Had they once been surface dwellers and migrated upward? Or, did humankind in Pellucidar start on the moon and filtered downward through the ages? I had little time to ponder this conundrum.
I watched the ground, and saw what appeared to be vents and chimneys springing up with a startling preciseness to their order. My observations, however, blinded me to danger.
I became aware that I was being intercepted when I noted a line of at least six of the black winged aircraft coming dead at me. I checked my guns, ready to knock them from the sky, when I glanced back to see three other groups of similar size converging on me from other directions. I felt that my ship could out-duel one group, but twenty-four to one odds were long even for me. Still, I throttled up my engines and prepared to go down fighting. Ee-la-nah would be avenged as best I could.
Then, I noted that the enemy craft were boxing me in, but not firing. I had a new sense that I was being herded. I felt little relief at this, for it meant that they wanted to capture my ship and me. I considered attacking anyway, but this would bring certain death without knowing the whereabouts of Ee-la-nah. I decided to let me direct me in the hopes that I would not be killed out of hand. We flew onward, though there was little sense of direction on this world, and I knew that I would be lost trying to find any location on its surface. Finally, one group soared over me, coming so close to me from above, that I knew they wanted me to land.
The problem was that I could see no landing field. All was verdant grassland and hills, where herds of cattle-like creatures and plodding dinosaurs roamed aimlessly. Suddenly, I saw a rectangle of bushy plain fall away at an angle, to reveal a dark opening barely wide enough for my P-38 to enter. It was plainly made for the stubbier wingspans of the Race's fighters. As the hidden runway opened up, lights sprang up and outlined a long concrete pad. Lightning seemed pleased we were descending. Like the cat, I wanted to land, but unlike the cat I knew we were headed for trouble.
I put down the landing gear and set my plane down as quickly as possible, fearing the runway might be too short for my larger craft. Reversing props at full thottle and riding the brakes hard I rolled to a stop and saw barely fifty feet remaining, terminating in a concrete and steel barrier at the runway's end. However, the end of the runway opened onto a circular area where several of the black planes waited in stalls. I used this space to turn my plane around so that it would be headed out. I felt no reason to be pessimistic, but caution made sure that if I were successful in finding my mate and escaping, no matter what the odds, the P-38 was ready to roll.
I threw back the canopy and gripped Lightning's neck fur to keep the beast from bolting. A squad of men armed with rifles approached. I stroked Lightning's fur and spoke soothingly to him.
"Look, boy," I said, "there are just too many to eat." There wasn't much time before the men arrived. I tore open some packaged food and tossed it back. It was ignored, the cat had eatten too soon before. Water, on the other hand, was — I emptied my canteen into my leather flight helmet, which I had not worn since arriving in Pellucidar, and knotted on strap to the back of the seat.
"Guard the plane. Stay here and guard the plane. If anybody opens the cockpit, I want you to tear their heads off. OK? And stay out of sight!"
I unbuckled my ammo belt and left my weapons in the pilot's seat, but I did stick one of the little Race automatics in my pants pocket. I scrambled out on to the wing and slammed the canopy shut before Lightning could change his mind or I could get orders to the contrary. It might get a little stuffy, but the cockpit was vented enough to keep him from suffocating.
I stood on the wing and raised both hands high. Behind me, I heard motors and saw a shadow fall over the entrance as its lid was replaced. The warmth of Pellucidar's son was replaced by a cool dampness that reminded me of bunkers or subway stations. The squad stood off about ten feet; rifles raised, but seemed uncertain. We remained thus until my arms were almost ready to drop from the strain when I heard a humming whine. From a wide corridor rolled a small vehicle not much bigger than a roller-coaster car. There was a driver and I could see through the windshield that its passenger was Jehoida.
Before going on, I want to add a note on translation. Pellucidarian, as a technical language has a lot of shortcomings, and the terms used by the Race take longer to translate than the equivalents I am about to use, but suffice it say that their units of measurement closely conform to the metric system, though their standard unit, or their meter, is about 37 inches, oddly enough.
"My arms are getting tired," I snapped to Jehoida as he approached the line of guards. "I'd like to put them down, but I'm afraid your goons will shoot me."
"Well, you do make them nervous," he said with that same combination of graciousness and sarcasm that had irritated me previously. "This is more excitement than they have had in many deka-days. You may put down your arms, but no tricks. While our weapons do not have the rate of fire of yours, they do kill."
"As you can see I am unarmed," I said, lowering my arms. "I saw your handiwork at Phutra. A sad creature, dreaming of past glory for her kind."
"A pathetic beast, true," he replied. "Soon, there will be only the Race. All the rest will be our servants. Come down, if you please. You will see that we are not the barbarians you find sullying the below world."
I leaped from the wing to land so close to the guards that they stepped back. I saw their arms trembling, but then again, how could I blame them? I was a head taller than their tallest while the latter barely came to the bottom of my sternum. Had we all been matched fists for fists or tooth and nail I could have beaten them all, Jehoida included.
While they hesitated, I was able examine their accoutrements more carefully. They wore a black uniform made from a cotton-like material. The jacket came down to mid thigh and polished leather boots tightly encased the calf from ankle to below the knee. The shirt beneath their jackets was gray and without collar. Various emblems of brass and silver adorned their jackets and all carried rifles of a caliber similar to that .22 a father might give a son for his first sporting weapon. Knives or bayonets hung at their hips from leather belts that also held pouches for cartridges and other items. The majority were bare-headed, but some wore an oval cap with a silver three-legged triangular blazon above its wide bill.
"With these you are going to conquer a world so huge that your entire moon would barely make a decent-sized county?" I demanded, smiling a little sarcastically. "Maybe you had better think again."
"The Race will conquer!" Jehoida insisted. "After all, you with the aircraft and weapons are now in our custody." Jehoida seemed amused at the turn of events, and because of that amusement, and having the upper-hand, he lapsed into a fake graciousness.
"Come with me. I am sure you would like to freshen up before your interrogation."
"What could I possibly know that could help you?" I asked. I played along, ever watchful for opportunity, but always watching Jehoida because he was my only link to finding Ee-na-lah!
The line of guards parted then followed in two rows behind us as we advanced to the little car. Jehoida insisted I cram myself into the rear compartment, which was as comfortable as a barrel going over Niagara Falls. He settled into the forward seat beside the driver while the guards entered a larger conveyance and followed us down the wide corridor.
"Escape is impossible," Jehoiba stated. "We are traveling to one of our military headquarters." Glancing over his shoulder he added, "You are surrounded by over a thousand elite troops."
"Well, I'll keep that in mind," I said.
Looking around I saw various side corridors leading away from this main artery. There was enough room for about three of these cars to travel abreast in the corridor I was in. Recessed lights overhead gave the area a clear but artificial illumination. "So, tell me more about your Race. Have you always lived underground like moles?"
"I don't understand your reference," he said. I had used the English word. But the implied insult irritated Jehoiba and he answered with the truth. "For many mega-days it has been this way. Before, we were on the surface, perhaps much like the beast-men below. There was once a great interest in the past, but most of our science now is concerned with making ready to expand to the below-world. Quite simply, we have expanded all we can, and are in danger of destabilizing our world."
"So, why did you come down here?" I asked. "Why not stay on the surface. It's sure warmer up there."
"We did so for most of the Race's history. However, there came a time when our population grew to the point where we were expanding beyond our resources. Grazing land and forests were being consumed by housing, and there was only one way to go, inward. These things happened in the Age of Salvation, as we call those kilo-days. It was our need to build downward that drove our need for machines, for ways to build and excavate living spaces and methods to heat and illuminate them."
"I have always wondered what would happen if the population of my world grew beyond the limits of farmlands to feed it," I admitted, suddenly fascinated with the concept. "So, you burrowed into the ground."
"We did, and for all these mega-days, we have tunneled and built, stoking our machinery with the resources we uncovered during our digging. The surface was returned to its original state, save that it was regulated for farming and grazing. Our ability to feed our Race is not the question. We can feed ten times our number now. What we cannot do is dig any further, or gravity may pull our world apart."
"You have built amazing things," I said. "But, again, what information could I provide to you?"
"By your weapons, you are obviously from Sari, the only kingdom we know to have firearms, though we have heard of another land far away that also has them. We originally did not have these things until we developed airships that could leave our gravity and fall down to the below-world. Our spies reported warriors using firearms, so we captured the weapons and had them analyzed. Our scientists immediately were able to make advanced models, but now I see that you of Sari have outstripped us."
I did not disagree with him. Even had I told him the truth at that point, he probably would not have believed me.
"So you want me to tell you how to make better machine guns and airplanes?" I asked.
"We hope you would cooperate willingly," Jehoida said. "You cannot escape, so resistance is really useless. We also need to know how many aircraft like yours exist, since our latest reports did not reveal Sari possessed any, and certainly none of your sophistication."
"Well, it's not inconceivable Sari has hidden facilities also," I said, hoping to unnerve him with such a thought. "By the way, where is Ee-la-nah?"
"She is safe," Jehoida growled, losing his supercilious tone. "She has an apartment adjoining my own, just off the base nexus. You have bewitched her in some way, because she does little but shower me with epithets and cry for you. Have no fear, however, I shall change her mind, or she shall be given to the re-educators for further convincing."
I was chilled by the thought of her being brainwashed by these pint-sized Nazis. "So if you can't have her willingly, you'll settle for a mentally crippled version?"
"A compliant mate is always desirable, for the Race needs such to expand in order to breed new warriors to subjugate the below-world. What does it matter to you? In a few minutes, we shall be at the base nexus and you will be taken to the questioners and if you are sufficiently compliant a niche will be found for you as well, though in a different location far from here. Your reward might also include a sterilized mate deemed undesirable for breeding purposes, since you seem to have a predilection for women of the Race."
The guards poked their gun barrels into my back a little too much for my liking, but a pattern of lead stitching would have been a reply to any complaint that I made, so I kept silent, stumbling forward down the sterile hallway to the Leader's office. They paused before a large black-painted metal door that bore a silver bas-relief of the Race's symbol, a triangle with a tripod base. One of them pushed a red button over a small grille. A strangled voice emitted from the grille. The guard spoke back, and the door slowly slid open into a recess in the wall.
I wish I could say that I was impressed by the Leader's office. However, having seen the throne room of David Innes, this clinically antiseptic room was the very antithesis of a ruler's ambience. The walls were all dull metal colors, gray, chrome, tan, like filing cabinet makers had designed the architecture. The floor was of black, marbled tile that reminded me of some bathrooms back home. There were paintings on the walls, occupying space between cabinets and bookcases, but they were as bland as the room, mostly studies of weapons and life underground.
Before me, under a huge picture of some sort of amphitheater where a figure addressed a packed house, was a desk as forbidding as the rest of the room, a squat black brick of furniture that appeared to be made of metal. The papers on it were neatly stacked and a row of writing devices was in precise order. The man behind the imposing desk only enhanced the impression of lifelessness that the room exuded.
He was slightly shorter than the rest of the Race I had seen, and his uniform hung on his spindly frame. His face was so colorless it had the appearance of a drowned corpse, and his hair was equally hueless, nearly the color of an albino. He looked at me with a pinched face, only slightly resembling Jehoida's more open, if equally cruel, features. His sallow eyes regarded me with little interest, and no hint of animation went through his small frame until his thin lips moved.
"You are the man from below," he stated in a snarling, raspy voice.
"I am Byron Jasper Wells," I informed him. "I demand not only my release, but the release of Ee-la-nah, who is held against her will by your son."
The Leader's lips curled in a death's head rictus. "Are all of you down there so addle-brained?" he questioned. "You were mad to come here, totally illogical. It is enough that you killed several of the Race and destroyed a large number of aircraft, but to come here, in my own office and demand of me! You are mad, and your people are mad to resist us."
It was my turn to smile. "You are mad to invade us, mein Führer," I allowed. "You could have come down by negotiation, openly, and you would have had an accommodation made, perhaps, but to attack us, no, that's too much. And where would such attacks stop? Would Sari be your last territorial demand?"
"I do not understand your terms, and think you insult the Leader of the Race," he glowered. "I shall have Jehoida summoned, and this woman also, and you will have your justice here and now, with the Leader as your judge. Make this occur." He snapped his fingers at a guard with a machine pistol who leaped to obey, falling upon a telephone as if it were a dissident and making calls.
"What do you want with Sari?" I demanded. "It is a peaceful country. And besides, Thuria is much closer."
"You think us fools?" He eyed me with his dead eyes, and I could see a pale glow building in them, like witch fire on treetops. "You need to be inculcated in the ways of the Race, to understand the glorious struggle of the Race, to hear the future of this world, a future belonging to the Race and to those who serve the Race."
"By all means, enlighten me, you sawed-off Hitler," I yawned. I suppose I should have been more polite, but I was in no mood to deal with a bunch just as nasty as the ones I was fighting back home.
"That will be your last insult," he gnashed. "Keep your tongue civil or it will be cut out. Who is this Hitler that you insult me with his name?"
"I don't know who got the worst insult," I commented. "He has killed millions based on the same theory that one race is superior to the other. You only are thinking about it."
"We do not wish to kill any who will willingly serve," the Leader spluttered defensively. "You have no doubt heard of the age-old struggle for survival upon this world. Once, the entire Race lived on the surface, and hunted and fished much as you do below, but our numbers grew until we threatened not only to crowd each other, but also to kill off all game and build on all farmland. Those who came before wisely knew that unless we could find a way to the below world, we would begin to starve. No way at that time could be devised to travel off our world, but there were those who proposed to dig into the world's interior, to build downward villages.
"The first attempts were crude, merely burrows and many-chambered caves. Our people were principally hunters and gatherers, crude farmers, and not engineers. We learned by doing. Legend says that it was by chance that a rare lightning storm struck a pile of raw iron ore that had been dug out of the ground, melting it and showing to the elders that it could be smelted and refined. Whatever the truth, our ancestors developed iron working, and began making devices for its production while improving digging tools and expanding the caves into vast underground chambers. Discovery followed discovery, and we evolved into a society of builders and miners. Soon, miles and miles of caves were realized, all carefully laid out in regular patterns, while the surface was returned to a natural state where the animals could multiply. We even grew food underground until the animal population stabilized, and then we planted fields again, this time also in regular patterns.
"To the Race, all was becoming an exercise in order and precision. We refined our passages until we have all that we need underground, living apartments, shops, factories, hospitals, whatever is required. However, the day has now dawned that we are running out of room again. There are those who fear, also, that if we dig too deeply, the gravitational forces will pull the moon apart. These pressures have combined to create unrest. Overcrowding is raising tempers, causing shortages. The central planners knew only how to perpetuate a system formed after countless mega-days. Something had to be done.
"There were numerous men like myself, who knew that the future of the Race lay not just on this world, but the below-world. Experiments were conducted with lighter-than-air-craft, but the central planners feared the world below, for our observations indicated huge creatures and men there. By their inactions, thousands would starve. My comrades and I formed the Tri-base. I am sure you have seen the three-legged symbol of our foundation. Two others and myself formed groups of men who were ready to seize power. During the height of unrest, we acted, toppling the central planners in a coup, the first act of violence in heka-days. Thousands died, but Tri-base controlled the Race."
"What of your two companions, the other Ò¬egs' of the base?" I asked.
"Unfortunately, they proved to be disloyal and unreliable, so they were later liquidated." The leader spread his hands and sounded disappointed. "We knew that we must be prepared to fight for our place in the below-world, so we persuaded our inventors to come up with weapons and better aircraft to conquer the world below. We used our airships to scout and capture specimens. The human specimens captured were used to show that they were vastly inferior to the Race in intelligence and culture, fit only for menial tasks."
"The term we use back home is Ò³capegoat'," I remarked. "Something used to make the perpetrators feel good about their acts. You used gilaks to show that they didn't deserve the below world. Let me guess, you told the Race that all labor was for the good of the State, and that the inferior gilaks must be exterminated. All those who didn't agree were either imprisoned or liquidated."
"That makes it a little blunt," the Leader admitted. "We asked to exterminate no-one, but some individuals could not be re-educated, and so they were a parasite on the body of the Race. We merely wish the inferior races to submit. We have chosen Sari because our spies indicate it is the most advanced, therefore the biggest threat. Once we demonstrate our superior ability by destroying Sari, the rest of the countries will fall into line easily."
He was interrupted from speaking further by the appearance of Jehoida from a sliding side panel. Next followed a guard holding Ee-la-nah. Upon spying me, she struggled to free herself, stamping on her guard's foot. He howled and released her. She would have run to my arms, but Jehoida snatched one of her arms and swung her around. She lost her balance and fell to the floor. I rushed to her, but three men with drawn pistols intercepted me. My temper flared, but I remained still, hands twitching to circle Jehoida's throat. I turned instead to the Leader.
"This is your superiority?" I roared. "To abuse women, to punish those weaker than yourself?"
"Were you a member of the Race, you would understand," he snapped.
"Have your storm troopers put away their toys, and there would be a lot of understanding," I promised. "Are you OK, Ee-la-nah?"
"Yes," she answered. "It takes more than what this ill-bred thing can accomplish to harm me."
"Silence!" Jehoida commanded, and gave her a ferocious backhand that sent her over backward.
That was all I needed. Pistols or not, I waded in. It took the two guards that brought me in, the Leader's two guards, Ee-la-nah's guard, and Jehoida, plus five more that were out in the hall and heard the ruckus before they had pinned me down enough to tie me to a chair. Four guards would not be fit for combat for some time and one of them never. Jehoida paced before me, between his father's desk and myself. I had only managed to give him a small cut on his lip.
"We are through toying with you," he screamed at me, making me blink from a shower of saliva and blood. "You have knowledge of how weapons like your aircraft are built. You know the size of your air forces and your army. You will give us this information, or you will regret it."
"I will give you nothing," I told him.
He slapped hard, but I had been hit a lot worse, so I just glared at him. His father cleared his throat.
"Why don't you cut off one of Ee-la-nah's fingers?" the Leader suggested. "If he doesn't care for himself, he evidently cares for her."
"Father!" Jehoida protested. "She is to me mine! Please do not mutilate her."
"She is only worth her value to the Race," the leader pointed out. "If, through her, we gain knowledge to conquer Sari, I would whittle her down to a sliver. You will obey me. You have disgraced me once, you will not do so again."
Jehoida's face purpled under its mushroom hue. "I am loyal!" he protested. "So be it." He turned to a guard. "Draw your knife and remove the first joint of her little finger."
"This from the man who claims to love you," I said to her as the guard fumbled for his dagger.
I tested the chair to which I was bound. It was wooden, and built for a member of the Race. I managed to rear up and hop backward. The chair, beneath me, shattered, but I felt bruised. Jehoida rushed to me and I gave him a boot in a place no self-respecting Edgar Rice Burroughs hero would strike. He went down in a bawling, red-faced heap. I couldn't get out of the ropes, so I was collared and a pistol barrel put in my ear. The Leader was furious. He leaped to his feat and went around the side of his desk.
"Fools!" he bellowed. "Can none of you quiet this inferior creature? Take him to the mines and break him there!"
I looked to Ee-la-nah. "I'll be back for you, my love," I said as they began to drag me out. "Don't kill that little bastard. I'll do it for you."
She screamed out her love for me. The last I heard before I was removed and the door shut was the Leader as he stood over his son's writhing form.
"Get up you sniveling worm," he ordered. "Obviously your mother was not a fit vessel for a member of the ruling elite of the Race. You are fortunate that I did not liquidate you when I liquidated her."
Back in the little car, this time with a driver and one guard since I was bound, the idiots put me in the back where, unobserved, I worked free of the ropes. The vehicle sped through corridors, descending deeper into the underground complex. Here and there the lighting failed, either because of lack of maintainence or power outages. With the knowledge that I had mere moments to escape before reaching the mines, I acted.
We rounded a corner and entered a section without lighting. In that instant, I drew the tiny automatic from my pocket and collared the guard, pulling him across my jammed knees. He squalled in shock, pale face losing any further hue it contained. I stuck the barrel of the automatic under his nose.
"Tell him to stop this thing!" I commanded.
He gave a strangled command and the car stopped. I untangled myself and dragged him along with me as I got out opposite the now alerted driver. He fumbled for his pistol.
"Tell him to drop his gun, or I will ventilate you," I said. "Lose your pistol also."
"Put it down!" He shrieked, unsnapping his holster and casting away his pistol. So much for the bravery of the Master Race! I stole a backward glance and saw a side corridor not ten feet away. I slowly backed toward it, keeping the officer between the driver and me though I had to crouch to effectively use him as a shield.
"You're mad!" the officer hissed. "You will never get away with this."
"We shall see," I returned. "Stay back! If you follow, you are both dead men."
I backed into the corridor and glanced about, seeing driver paralyzed, either with fear, or with some ingrained sense of following orders without question. Once over the sill, the corridor, though narrower than the concourse I exited, was much taller, its ceiling soaring sixty feet above my head. Along the sides were patterns of windows, and some of the higher levels had small balconies with black metal railings. Double glass and metal doors flanked me at regular intervals, but the street was empty. Then, there came a voice that caused me to stop dead in my tracks.
"Byron!" Ee-la-nah! "Look out!"
Before I could turn, I heard the scrape of leather on stone and a heavy blow struck the back of my head, staggering me. I let go of the officer, and was trying to clear my head, thinking that someone had come from one of the doorways. More blows rained upon me, however, and I could do little except flail with both fists. I impacted on several occasions, but the force of the blows on me indicated some weapon or bludgeon, and I sank into unconsciousness.
