Beyond the Worlds We Know

Star Pirate discovers the astounding secret of the mystery planet!

Our Story Thus Far—

Dr. Zoar, a distinguished Martian scientist, has mathematical proof of the existence of a long-suspected but unknown Tenth Planet beyond the edge of the solar system.

He persuades that team of space-adventurers, Star Pirate and his Venusian sidekick Phath, into a journey of exploration and discovery. Installing his new superdrive aboard Star's scoutcratt, the Jolly Roger, Zoar predicts they will achieve speeds narrowly close to that of light itself.

The renovated speedster is launched from Star's secret hideout, the asteroid Haven, drops below the ecliptic, and accelerates on its new propulsion system—only to run into an uncharted meteor-storm which hulls the Roger and cripples the rocket drive. As Star and Phath toil to repair the damage, the powerless ship drifts deeper and deeper into the sinister "Vortex," a whirlpool of gravitational forces at whose heart lies an eerie graveyard of lost ships. At the last minute, the repairs are completed and the impetus of the superdrive enables the Jolly Roger to break free of the gravity-vortex.

Later, the little ship crosses the orbit of Pluto and heads into unknown, uncharted space—where no man of the Inner Worlds has ever trespassed before. What mysteries will they be faced with, what inexplicable perils, on the surface of the "brave new world" Zoar has named Persephone?

8. Over the Edge

"Why, you mud-eating swamp-lizard, if you dare touch one string of that devil's instrument, or utter a single caterwauling yowl of so-called song, I'll throttle you with my bare hands!"

This savage challenge was uttered by a squat green dwarf, a malignant scowl disfiguring his froglike face, under a tall, bald, wrinkled brow. He wore a dusty red smock and leathern sandals, for all that he was one of the System's most distinguished scientific celebrities, Zoar of Mars.

"Izzat so, you dust-chewing old horned toad?" snarled a soft, sibilant voice from the other side of the cramped little cabin, where a lithe figure with dead-white skin and slitted pink albino eyes lounged, cradling his nine-stringed Venusian guitar protectively in his arms. This was Phath, a Venusian space-adventurer who was pilot and first mate of the trim little speedster, the Jolly Roger.

"Yes, that’s so," growled the diminutive Martian scientist with a fierce glare from his ink-black eyes. "I’ll break that cursed noise-maker over your empty skull if you dare interrupt my concentration with your tuneless gargling!"

Phath swore by six or seven space gods, and his pink eyes narrowed dangerously while one hand hovered over his leather holster, fingertips just tentatively brushing the worn butt of his proton needle. He spluttered wordlessly, but the fact of the matter was that while the Venusian adventurer was a good man to have at your back in a tavern brawl, or by your side in a street-fight, and while he was a dead shot with his needier and an ace rocket pilot, the one talent in which he was seriously lacking was the gift of song. His attempts at melodic self-expression did, to a certain extent, resemble the cry of a cat whose tail has been caught in the proverbial wringer.

He knew it, although he would rather die than admit it, and he hated the fact; since there was nothing he could possibly do about it, he was touchy on the subject and easily flew off the handle when someone made a remark about his singing voice.

"Go on," sneered Dr. Zoar, laying down the calculator upon which he had been working out a set of abstruse equations in celestial mechanics. "Put a beam through me—I dare you! If you can’t shoot any better than you can carry a tune, I’ve nothing to worry about."

"By Yakdar’s beryllium bellybutton, but I’ve a mind to do just that!" Phath exploded, uncoiling from his chair and coming to his feet.

"Children . . . children," sighed a third voice, wearily. The interruption came from Star Pirate himself, as the lean, lanky, broad-shouldered young Earthling with the curly red hair and mischievous green eyes was known to the citizens of the Nine Worlds. He had been stretched out on his bunk, taking a bit of a nap after one of Phath’s sumptuous luncheons, before the argument from the control cabin had roused him from his rest.

The Martian and the Venusian began trying to explain how each of them was in the right, and innocent of provocation, while the other was a double-dyed villain, constantly interrupting each other and each trying to talk the loudest. Star pretended tolerantly to be paying attention, but actually his mind was elsewhere, ruefully remembering the interesting dream from which he had been so noisily, not to say rudely, awakened by their quarrel.

It was not the first time this had happened, and it would surely not be the last, he told himself. For days now, since the Jolly Roger had flown over the edge of known space and crossed the orbit of Pluto, the trim little speedster had penetrated deeper and deeper into unknown, uncharted space, where no other man had ever flown.

The little craft, never designed for three, was cramped and crowded, and the forced proximity, the lack of privacy, the prolonged confinement in such close quarters, caused the space-travelers to tend to rub each other the wrong way. This was to be expected, since they were only human, but in the present case the matter was somewhat aggravated by the fact that for years now, the Venusian adventurer and the diminutive Martian savant had cultivated a long-lived feud that had been smouldering for years. That it occasionally exploded into vocal argument was to be regretted, but even Star Pirate was not always able to keep peace between his irascible old Martian mentor and his touchy Venusian sidekick.

"Calm down, boys," he advised at last. "Save the temper tantrums for tomorrow; you know, we expect to be within visual range of Persephone by then ... and who knows what we'll encounter when we land? Savage beasts and hostile natives, perhaps: so save your energy until then, we may have need of it, if push comes to shove and we find we've got a fight on our hands."

These sensible words of advice proved to have a calming effect on the two belligerents; they had momentarily forgotten that in mere hours they expected to take their first look at the "brave new world" they had come so very far to be the first to discover and to explore .

And, as Star Pirate said, who knew what might lie ahead on them when they landed on the surface of the mystery world?

Hour after hour, the trim little speedster probed on, ever deeper into the limitless depths of the void. Ahead, still invisible to the unaided eye, the unknown tenth planet of the Solar System swung in her huge orbit, circling the tiny spark-like flare that was the distant Sun—only the brightest of the stars, from this colossal distance .

Zoar expected to find little that was new or even particularly interesting on the surface of Persephone—just another frozen sphere of liquid hydrogen oceans and continents of frozen methane, like Pluto, was his estimate. Still and all, having been the first to prove with unshakable equations that the long-suspected Persephone did in fact actually exist, Dr. Zoar was not about to let the honor of being the first to stand upon her surface go to another.

If it had not been for his newly perfected rocket propulsion system, the super-drive, the trip to Persephone could not have been made in a ship as small as Star Pirate's Jolly Roger. On conventional rocket drive, the journey beyond known space would have taken many months, perhaps years, and the trim little speedster could not possibly have carried sufficient stores of food, air and water for her three passengers over such a long haul.

Fortunately, however, the drive was a success, and the craft hurtled through the blackness of infinite space faster than any ship had ever hurtled before—

—And ahead lay the unexplored mysteries of an unknown world!

9. The Black planet

Early in the morning of the very next day, Phath lolled lazily in the huge pilot's chair before the curve of the control board, with its maze of flashing red and green lights and glittering dials and meters. The Venusian was strumming an old space chanty on his nine-stringed native instrument, having seized the opportunity when both of his shipmates were busy elsewhere in the ship.

he warbled tunelessly, his nimble fingers rousing a shivering echo of melody from the taut silver strings of the Venusian guitar. The old space chanty he was singing was his favorite, and it had more verses than any spaceman could remember. Phath threw his head back and sang on—

when suddenly he broke off his song with a startled squawk as an alarm clang sounded directly above him, and, as the saying goes, loud enough to wake the dead.

"Yakdar’s beryllium belly-button!" swore the Venusian, leaping to his feet and tossing the musical instrument on the bunk across the room. He snapped on the intercom and said into it, excitedly:

"Chief! Zoar! The alarm just went off—the proximity alarm. That means we’ve arrived—!"

He broke off as the green dwarflike Martian savant came waddling into the control cabin, leather sandals slapping the steeloid deckplates .

"I heard it for myself, you simpleton," snapped the scientist, pulling up a stool before the huge 'scope and adjusting its dials with knowing hands. The glass blurred hazily, then sharpened into focus, showing the black backdrop of space bestrewn with a thousand flashing points of light that were the ever-distant stars. The magnificent spectacle always reminded the Venusian adventurer of blue-white diamonds poured out on black velvet.

Star Pirate joined them at the 'scope. He had been back in the engine room, checking out the cyclotrons that fed atomic fire into the big cluster of rocket tubes that drove the little craft through space, making doubly certain that all was well before they dared the unknown dangers of a strange new world. Now he bent over the luminous 'scope, keen gaze probing curiously, as he wiped grease from his fingers with a bit of engine room waste.

Against the blazing backdrop of ten thousand stars, a black planet loomed!

It was completely featureless, and would have been invisible to the unaided eye, had not its rounded bulk occulted so many stars. Obviously, the mysterious tenth planet of the System had the lowest albedo, or factor of reflected light, of any other world.

"No wonder the astronomers could never find it visually," muttered Dr. Zoar thoughtfully, half to himself. Fingering his jaw, he studied the circle of darkness with a measuring, calculating gaze.

"Phath, put us in parking orbit around the planet," ordered Star Pirate crisply, taking a seat before the 'scope, while the little Martian scientist seated himself at his own station, before the banks of detectors that received, measured and recorded all electromagnetic energy and radioactivity in the immediate vicinity of the spacecraft.

There were also banks of sensors which could probe the surface of a planet, moon or asteroid with long-range, delicately attuned vibrations, reporting back to the telemetry of Zoar's control board. With a curt nod, the diminutive green dwarf thumbed his sensors to full power and began examining the dials and meters to learn everything that he could about the mystery world about which they would soon be circling.

"Right, chief!" grinned the Venusian, and took the big chair behind the central control panel. His voice was vibrant with excitement—almost breathless, in fact. A little action at last! Poor Phath had already had about all he could stomach of being cooped up in the little two-by-four cabin with the likes of that hot-tempered horn-toad of a Martian! He hoped the chief would order them down—who knew what excitement might lie ahead? Anything, any danger or peril, was better than boredom, to Phath’s straight-forward way of thinking.

"The surface is hidden behind a thick layer of opaque clouds, lad," muttered Dr. Zoar, studying the dials-readings of his sensor beams. "Whatever may lie beneath the cloud-layer, my instruments can’t say; the vapor is too opaque.

"I thought the black sphere looked too smooth and featureless to be the real surface," said Star Pirate, turning up the magnification on the ’scope to full volume.

"Only way to find out what’s under the clouds is to go down and see, chief," suggested the Venusian hopefully. Star Pirate grinned, but said nothing. He knew exactly how his white-skinned sidekick had chafed raw from the exasperating tedium of their long journey, and how the possibility of some danger and a little action was tempting to Phath. Indeed, he felt the same temptation himself ...

Zoar gave him a glance from cold black eyes.

"Might as well have a look, lad," he murmured. "What harm can it do?"

"Finish taking your readings," said the redheaded adventurer. "Any radio signals from the planet? Any artificial radiation, to suggest the natives—if there are any natives, that is—might have achieved atom power? Any sign of spacecraft, space buoys, or artificial satellites?"

Zoar bent his cold unwinking gaze on the dials and meters which studded the tilted board before him. Finally he had to admit there was not the slightest sign of any of these indications of a high, technological civilization.

"If there are any natives, they would be simple savages," he mused. "Or at least planet-bound, pre-atomic cultures ..."

"You said you figured probably Persephone was nothin’ more than a chunk of frigid hydrogen ocean with a few continents of methane ice floating around on top ... no life could live in that frozen gunk," remarked the Venusian.

"You’re probably right," mused Zoar, too caught up in the tantalizing mystery of the black planet to bother responding with his usual sharp tongue, or to provoke yet another round in their endless argument .

"Keep checking," advised Star Pirate.

But the black planet proved to have no satellites, either natural or artificial, and no sign of a high technology could be discovered by their sensitive instruments. The planet was either a lifeless frozen hell, or, if not, then the home of a pre-space people.

There was really only one thing to do—

"All right, take her down, Phath," said Star.

"Yakdar's beryllium belly-button, but now yer talkin’, chief!" yipped the excitable Venusian.

10. Frozen World

White fire gushed from the rocket tubes of the Jolly Roger, deftly nudging the trim little craft out of her parking orbit about the equator of Persephone. She sank towards the thick blanket of impenetrable black clouds which surrounded the dark world; ere long, she plunged into them.

Darkness closed about the cabin of the little craft. The ’scope was useless now, for nothing could be seen except for scudding ebon mist. Not visually, that is—but still Dr. Zoar clung to his sensors, probing with delicate vibrations the unknown surface far beneath their keel, and still hidden by the seething swirls of black vapor.

"Coming out of the cloud-layer now, chief!" said Phath cheerfully. And no sooner had those words left his lips, than an eerie yellow light broke about them. The Earthling, the Martian and the Venusian blinked incredulously, and found their craft floating down from a strange sky of sourceless yellow glare.

"Where does all the cursed light come from?" demanded Phath in baffled tones. Zoar studied his meters closely.

"Electromagnetic forces causing excitation in the bottom layer of the clouds," announced the Martian savant. "That layer seems to be one of the heavy metallic vapors, like argon or—"

"—Neon?" hazarded Star Pirate.

The Martian savant permitted himself a slight, approving smile. "Precisely," he rasped in his hoarse, bullfrog voice.

"Well, it gives plenty of light, sure enough," grunted Phath, sounding rather disgusted. "Too bad there’s nothing to see with all that light—"

And so it was: the surface was nothing but one enormous, endless snowfield, broken only here and there by the raw, sharp outcroppings of black mineral deposits, and swept by howling gales. There did not even seem to be mountains on this weird, shrouded world of yellow glare, endless ice, and remorseless wind.

Phath announced the temperature readings from the other side of their hull. It was nowhere near as cold as it would be on Pluto's surface—perhaps the electrical excitation of the neon layer had some sort of a mild warming effect on the planet's surface temperature—but it was cold enough.

"Take an orbit around the equator, Phath," Star Pirate said, "and turn on the cameras. We'll make a photomap, since we're here. Give us something, at least, to take back home."

"Righto!" chirped the Venusian. And the Jolly Roger began to trace a circle around the frozen world, skimming along above the endless snowfields, hurtling along under the uncanny glare of that luminous golden sky.

The trim Little speedster soared through the luminous skies of Persephone, and from time to time she shuddered from stem to stern as her flight was interrupted by the tremendous winds that seized her at random, shook her as a terrier shakes a rat by the throat, then flung her away.

Clutching a stanchion for support, during one of these furious gusts, Star grated: "Why all this wind, Doc? I would have thought it would be relatively peaceful here beneath the cloud-layers . . ."

Dr. Zoar peered at one of his meters that recorded temperature. "We have a severe temperature inversion," he rasped in his deep bullfrog voice. "I suspect Persephone has a molten core, and that erratic blasts of super-heated gas or lava escape to the surface from time to time through volcanic vents or geysers. The reaction between the heat of the core material and the permafrost of the surface evidently causes these gale-force winds—"

He broke off, for suddenly Star Pirate stiffened in his chair before the big 'scope, and uttered a stifled gasp. There, directly ahead of the Jolly Roger, across the seemingly endless snowfields that lay dead and frozen beneath that glaring golden sky, melted into view something like a vast, bowl-shaped depression. A valley, it seemed, and from rim to rim it must have measured hundreds of square miles, perhaps even thousands. And it was green and fertile.

"By all the gods of space — Doc! Phath! Look at this!" he yelled, rousing the two from their study of the controls. They clustered about the big circular 'scope, staring with disbelief.

In all these supra-Arctic wastes, how could such a thing be? They saw farms and fields and forests, glades and gardens and groves, running rivers and lakes like looking-glasses, mirroring the bright yellow skies . . .

Sure looks like you hit it right on the nose, Doc, with your volcanic core and geysers of live steam," muttered the Pirate.

Something like a dim dome of pale radiance encompassed the Vale from lip to lip, barely discernible against the unchanging glare of the ever-luminous skies. Approaching the curious dome of force, Star probed it with the ship’s sensors, found nothing dangerous, and entered its perimeter. A faint, tingling shock ran through him and his companions, but was over in an instant. Whatever the force dome was, it was no barrier to solid objects, surely: probably it served to retain heat and moisture and atmosphere.

Zoar studied the meters. He wet his thin lips with a pointed tongue. "There’s air outside, lad! Eminently breathable, too; warm and moist, if these instruments haven’t gone haywire ..."

Star told Phath to cut their speed. Beneath the floating craft passed vistas of green enchantment. White roads meandered between fields and farms; tiny villages and hamlets appeared; miniature figures could be seen toiling in the fields below. Beyond all this loomed the ramparts and walls of a distant city, towards which the Jolly Roger veered her flight. All of dark gray stone was this city, and ringed by a massive wall breached by four gates at the cardinal points of the compass .

From a central plaza, where rose magnificent edifices that could be palaces or temples, broad, tree-lined avenues radiated like the spokes from the hub of a wheel.

Down towards the dark city swooped the little speedster. Tall towers whipped by, red-roofed, with walled gardens and broad boulevards, arcades, bazaars, mansions. How many thousand inhabitants the dark city housed was beyond guessing, but it was a metropolis of impressive dimensions.

"Who could have dreamed this dead ice-ball of a planet could have people on it!" muttered Dr. Zoar dazedly.

"How d’you know they’re people?" Phath demanded. "They could be any kind of monstrosity, you know—"

"Well, we’ll soon know," grunted Star Pirate. "Let’s take her down. You’re spoiling for some excitement, anyway."

"Sure; but do you really think this is smart, chief?" asked the Venusian. Star shrugged and grinned his mischievous grin, green eyes sparkling with excitement.

"It’s been a dull voyage so far," he chuckled. "Let’s see what we can do to liven it up! Besides, from the looks of the town I’d say the people are on the level of our own medieval times. Take a look down there and see for yourselves! No sign of mechanized vehicles or aircraft, and from the looks of those paven roads they were built for horse-drawn carts, or whatever ... actually, they seem to domesticate big lizard-like beasts for that purpose—see the paddock?"

"I’d say you are quite correct, lad," growled Zoar. "My sensors still show no sign of activity on electrical or radio wavelengths, and none of the neutrino-leakage we would expect to find from atom power."

"Right! Doubt if they’ve got the internal combustion engine yet, much less electricity or atomics. Which means we can fly and fight—if it should come to that—rings around them."

"I suppose you're right, lad ..." muttered the frogfaced little savant, fingering his jaw thoughtfully.

"Sure I am," Star grinned. He nodded to the scene in the big ’scope. "Phath, let’s take her down to a landing in that big central plaza. See it? There’s a stand of funny-looking trees in the very middle, ringed with a wide circle of crushed gravel. Bring us down there."

"You got it, chief!"

"Right: now, Doc, it's up to you and me to man the guns. Just in case we're way off the mark in supposing the Persephonians' level of technology is still back in the bow-and-arrow period. Oh, leave your sensors on and set them to 'record.' Every bit of data we can get may come in handy."

The two took stations at the big proton needle guns whose blisters protruded from the smooth hull of the trim little speedster. The proton needles could reduce half the city to rubble in minutes, so they felt they had little to fear from natives armed—most likely—with nothing less serious than pikes and javelins.

To either side of the central plaza rose two imposing edifices, built of the same lustrous, dark stone as were most of the buildings which composed the mysterious city. Whether the two, which faced each other across the greensward of the little park amidst the plaza, were palaces or temples it was impossible to guess. Probably one of each, was Star Pirate's guess, and his guess turned out to be accurate.

The Jolly Roger floated down on her null-gravity field. Then her keel crunched and squealed as it sank into the bed of gravel that ringed about the grove.

The rocket-tubes coughed and died.

They had landed on the surface of the unknown world!

11. The Flying Men

Chemical analysis proved that the air outside the ship was composed of a mixture of oxygen, nitrogen and hydrogen very similar to Earth's own atmosphere, and therefore breathable without the need of protective masks and bottled oxygen. So Star opened the control cabin airlock and stepped out, followed by Dr. Zoar and Phath, as soon as the Venusian pilot had locked the controls against any possibility of tampering.

They stepped forth not on grass, as they had unconsciously supposed they would, but on soft, cushiony, emerald-hued moss, pearled with sweet dew.

The air was warm and moist and fragrant with the heady aroma of many strange flowers and blossoming trees unfamiliar to the Earthling, the Martian and the Venusian. The frigid, howling gales that swept the golden skies of the world beyond the immense valley, sheltered behind its dim dome of force, seemingly could not penetrate into this alien Eden. Looking about at the lush shrubbery, the velvet moss, the strange flowers, Star shook his head; it was difficult to believe that, not half a mile away, the surface was locked under an adamantine sheath of eternal ice and swept by frozen hurricanes of terrific force, hostile to all life.

"People coming, chief!" snapped Phath warningly. Star Pirate looked up to see a strange sight. From the uppermost tiers of the big palace-like structures which faced each other across the plaza, there came hurtling towards them immense, red-furred, prick-eared creatures, with the ribbed, membranous wings of bats. But enormous bats—their wingspread must have measured thirty feet and more.

And mounted upon their backs, seated between the beating vans, were human riders! Star thrilled to a distinct shock as he had his first glimpse of the mysterious denizens of this weird new world. They rode their batlike steeds, seated in capacious wicker-work saddles, guiding their aerial mounts with long reins. The men—for only one of them seemed to be a woman—were completely humanoid, save for their dead-white skins and lustrous eyes, slightly larger and rounder than Star was accustomed to back in the many worlds of the System. They were as black as obsidian, those staring eyes, and the hair upon their heads, which they wore long and which whipped behind them in their flight like elfin banners, was of the rare shade called platinum-blond .

They were slight of build, a trifle shorter than Phath, but taller, of course, than the green-skinned dwarf at his side. They were all dressed alike in silken tunics of some dark, glittering metallic weave, short-sleeved and ending at the knee. Soft buskins of something like supple doeskin clad their feet, and bound about the brows of each of the newcomers on a silver-link chain was a large disc of glimmering amber crystal which swirled and sparkled with uncanny inner fires.

"I don't see any weapons, chief— guess they've come to have a polite palaver with the sky-gods from the silver bird," grinned the Venusian at his side. Phath's sense of humor generally tended to get broader the more danger they were in, so Star tried to ignore his sidekick. But, in fact, he saw nothing resembling javelins or bows or swords—not even knives. Each, including the young woman, however, did clasp a slim metallic baton of dully gleaming metal, perhaps ceremonial in function, like a mace of office.

The gigantic batlike flying steeds settled to the emerald sward some several yards away, their thundering membranous wings raising a dust-storm of leaves, twigs and bits of gravel. The first of the riders to dismount was a languid, slender young man who seemed a personage of high rank or importance, from the way the members of his entourage deferred to him. He hesitantly came nearer, staring with growing amazement at the three strangers. His wide eyes flew from Star's bronzed features, red curly hair and bright green eyes, to the diminutive green-skinned dwarf in the dusty red smock at his side, and the lithe, hairless, pink-eyed Venusian.

Above all else, he seemed fascinated with the Jolly Roger. From the way he stared at its sleek, glistening lines with awe and bewilderment, it was blatantly obvious that he had never seen—perhaps had never even dreamed—of such an astounding vehicle as the spacecraft .

And the gaze he turned on Star Pirate reflected this. It would seem that Phath's joke about "skygods from the silver bird" had struck a lot closer to the center of the truth of the matter than had at first seemed likely.

This personage and his retinue had all flown hither from the imposing structure directly ahead of them, which they soon discovered to be the palace of the prince. The second party, consisting of the young woman and what at first appeared to be a boy—but whom they discovered was a girl with her bright hair shorn mannishly short, a novice in the temple service, bidden this day to attend upon the person of the high priestess—had flown in the same instant from the upper works of the huge building at their backs, which proved to be the temple.

That palace and temple confronted each other across the plaza was symbolic of the confrontation and the struggle for power between the two centers of administration. But this they did not suspect until a bit later.

Star Pirate stepped forward and saluted the princely personage with a lifted palm. His other hand, however, although unobtrusively, hovered mighty close to the butt of his proton needle in its worn holster at his hip.

"I don't expect that you folks will be able to understand my lingo, but maybe you can read my meaning in the tone of my voice," he said. "We come as friends to visit you on a peaceful scientific mission, and we greet you in the name of peace."

The reply he received astounded him—but it came, not in words, but in the form of a cool thought-tendril insinuated into the depths of his brain.

There is no need to accompany your thoughts, lord, with vocal utterance. And we, in turn, greet you in the name of peace! I am Narba, prince and ruler of this country, the Great Vale of Tuluun. I bid you and your stranger-friends welcome to this city of Alazar, and will be happy to offer the three of you lords the hospitality of my palace yonder—

"Controlled telepathy, by the Twin Moons!" croaked Dr. Zoar just loud enough for Star Pirate to hear. "Thank the space-gods I left the sensors switched on as you said, lad. At last we will have measured the wavelengths of telepathic communication and of thought itself!"

Phath jostled the green dwarf into silence with a rude elbow.

"Watch what you're blabbing, frog-face," hissed the Venusian in sibilant tones. "Utton-bay yer ip-lay. Le’s not give the show away in front of all these telepaths—"

Dr. Zoar simmered towards a boil, then subsided. He cleared his throat with a grating cough and fixed the white-skinned space-adventurer with a cold hard eye that could probably pry open an oyster at twenty paces.

"A civilization where telepathic communication is the norm, my swamp-lizard of a friend, would of necessity have to be a civilization in which one politely ignores—or somehow manages to filter out and remain oblivious of—any thought-waves which are not specifically directed at you by another person. Otherwise polite society would collapse into raw red savagery in a moment. Think what would happen at a Manhattan cocktail party, or in a singles bar, or during a high-level business conference, or when a politician is giving a speech, if everyone felt free to read everyone else’s slightest thought, and you will realize what I mean!"

"Um," said Phath, with a shudder, looking gloomy. He hated it so, whenever Dr. Zoar proved to be right about something. Which, come to think of it, was depressingly frequent!

Just then Prince Narba hastily stepped aside as the young woman from the temple and her little novice strode forward. The woman advanced through Narba's entourage, which melted from her path like snow before a spring rain. She stepped forward, brushing past the Prince unceremoniously, not even deigning to cast a glance in his direction, and planted herself squarely in front of Star Pirate, hands planted on her hips, sweeping him from heel to crown with a sharp, searching gaze.

12. Gods of Tuluun

She was young and handsome, in a bold, domineering sort of way, and she moved with a swaggering arrogance that left no doubt in your mind that she held a remarkably high opinion of herself, and was not at all accustomed to being thwarted.

Her brilliant black eyes were afire with keen interest, and in their gleam shone something not unlike the fire of fanaticism. The redheaded space-adventurer had seen it before in other eyes, in his time, and knew that it usually meant trouble in anyone’s language.

Having raked Star Pirate with her eyes, and examined the Martian and the Venusian with the merest flick of her gaze, she turned searchingly to Prince Narba, who virtually cringed before her. It was not hard to see that power was divided between church and state in here in the Great Vale of Tuluun, and that, for the moment at least, church seemed to be uppermost.

You speak of 'hospitality' in the palace, Narba, as if you were wining and dining emissaries from some other city of the Vale! But these are not men, but gods! In sooth, they are none other than the very star gods, whose descent into the Great Vale has been for so very long announced as forthcoming by our prophets! And, as such, it were only fitting that I, Zarga, as high priestess of the star gods, welcome them, not you—and that they be most fittingly housed in the temple, not your hovel of a palace! Come, divinities! Follow me—

And without so much as a backward glance to ascertain that the "gods" were obedient to her command, the young woman turned on her heel and was about to go swaggering back to where grooms held the immense winged steeds of herself and the girl novice, when she found the child directly in her way and thrust her aside with a sharp ejaculation of impatience.

The girl fell, uttering a little cry of pain—the first vocal sound which Star Pirate and his comrades had as yet heard from the lips of the Persephonians. Until then they had not been fully certain that the pale-skinned, bright-haired denizens of Tuluun in fact possessed the power of uttering sounds.

Star stepped forward quickly and bent to assist the shaken child to her feet. Tears glimmered in her huge dark eyes as she stared at him, lips trembling with incredulous disbelief.

Lord—!

"Are you hurt, girl?" demanded Star roughly. Zarga had frozen in her tracks and was looking back over her shoulder with a face filled with a torrent of conflicting emotions, whereamong rage, amazement, and fury were preeminent.

N-no, lord—please—my mistress—

Prince Narba seized this momentary distraction to speak up, however hesitantly.

But, my lady priestess, these strangers do not in any wise resemble the likenesses of the star gods as recorded in our folios or basreliefs or statuary . . . surely, until we know for certain who and what they are, the palace would be most suitable—

Although the Prince, who seemed on the whole rather ineffectual, tended to defer to the haughty young priestess, it could be seen that he had not entirely surrendered the power of the monarchy to the authority of the temple.

They began the discussion, the Prince humble and tactful, the priestess punctuating her mental argument with sharp, emphatic gestures. At Star Pirate's side, Dr. Zoar chortled happily to himself:

"And to think that every mental transmission is being scanned and dissected by my sensors, and registering on the dials and meters! How delicious!"

"You mean your sensors are picking up these thought-waves?" demanded Star, surprised. Zoar shrugged and gave a leer which was his way of smiling.

"Certainly! You know that thought ts electrical ... that the brain is simply an electrochemical battery ... hitherto, attempts to measure the wave-length of human thought have been faulty and inconclusive, since the waves are exceptionally short and the energy behind such broadcasts relatively feeble ... but my sensors are detecting the whole thing."

The matter is settled, lords, said Prince Narba resignedly, turning from the priestess to address Star Pirate. We are agreed, Lady Zarga and I, that you and your comrades would most fittingly be housed in the temple of the star gods across the plaza—

Something warned the redheaded adventurer that perhaps it were best if the three "star gods" stayed as far as possible from their priestess, since their ignorance of their own theology was as complete and total as it could possibly be. And what was the point of being treated like a god, unless occasionally you decided to act like one?

"We disagree, Prince Narba, and desire to accept the hospitality of the palace," he said imperiously. "There will be time enough to visit the temple, where the Priestess Zarga will no doubt be happy to present the assembled clergy to us. For now, let us be gone to your palace."

Narba’s eyes lit with delight and his pale face broke into a smile of pleasure—exactly matched, Star Pirate noticed, by the venomous glare which lit the dark eyes of the priestess, and the expression of outraged disapproval which marred and twisted her handsome but cold features. It was more than obvious that the Lady Zarga was not used to being opposed in anything; nevertheless, under his keen, watchful eye, she wilted and sketched a humble bow. But he could guess how much it rankled her soul to submit even to the wishes of a god, when it ran contrary to her own wishes.

"Is it wise to leave the ship unguarded, lad?" asked Zoar worriedly. Star Pirate shrugged.

"Unless they know the combination of the lock, how could any of them open the airlock? Stop worrying, Doc, and c’mon. We’re armed and they’re not—and they think we’re their gods! How can we get in trouble?"

"I don’t know, I’m sure," muttered the diminutive Martian savant. "But I have a suspicion that we’ll manage to, somehow ..."

13. Kidnapped!

The Prince gestured, and room was made for the three adventurers behind the riders of the red-furred bats. The saddles were capacious enough to hold an extra passenger, Star perceived, and while he wasn’t exactly anxious to ride the flapping creature through the skies, gods aren’t supposed to be afraid of such things, so he pretended not to mind. It was a relief to the redhead to see that Dr. Zoar and Phath were taking their cue from his manner.

While the three newcomers mounted their saddles, however gingerly—in the case of Dr. Zoar—and distrustfully—in the case of the Venusian, Phath, who had no confidence at all in modes of transportation that did not involve machinery—Star could not help glancing over his shoulder to see the furious high priestess stalking away to her mount, followed by the little novice.

While the priestess did not deign to cast a glance behind, the child did, and the shy gaze she turned upon the tall, redheaded stranger was brimming with adoration ...

Once in the saddle, the grooms fastened them in place by belting thin leather straps about their thighs for safety. Then the order for flight was given by Prince Narba, and the riders dug their heels into the furry ribs of their gigantic steeds.

Vast wings snapped open like enormous Chinese paper fans, and beat the air, throbbing like pounded drums. Dust and leaves and twigs and gravel arose about them in a blinding cloud. Slowly, but then faster and faster, they ascended into the air on the giant bats. They circled the park once, then soared off towards the palace, landing on gigantic perches fitted into the upper works, which served as nesting-places—Star found it hard not to think of them as "hangars"—for the winged creatures.

He was pondering the problem of the priestess, Zarga, whom he had seriously offended by his whim to frustrate her plan to have him as her guest, choosing Prince Narba. Narba seemed intimidated by the priestess, with her imperious and domineering ways—

"As who wouldn't be?" muttered the Pirate humorously to himself.

Your pardon, lord? inquired the noble whose saddle he shared.

"Nothing—talking to myself ... but couldn't you read my thoughts?" Star added, rather curious. The aristocrat smiled and explained that as the "lord' ' was not at the moment wearing his "talisman"—and here he touched with one forefinger the disc of amber crystal all the Tuluunites wore fastened to their brows—his mental transmissions were singularly difficult to perceive.

The redheaded adventurer instantly guessed that these curious crystals in some unknown manner focused or concentrated the thought-messages, as a lens focuses a random beam of scattered light.

It was an interesting datum, and one which Star filed away for later reference.

They might not as yet be proven gods to Prince Narba, but certainly they were considered guests of rare prominence, as was shortly demonstrated.

"Did you ever see such a place, chief?" chortled Phath incredulously. "Those wall-panels over there are carven ivory, and cut all of one piece. Makes you wonder how big the beast was they took the horns from! And these blackwood tabourets are inlaid with turquoises big enough to choke a hen, and plaques of mother-of-pearl."

Dr. Zoar was dreamily inspecting the goblets and plates of food and drink set out for their refreshment on a low table. "Gold," he murmured. Then he picked up a gem-studded goblet: "And platinum. Studded with fire opals, no lees. The 'hospitality' of the palace, indeed!"

"Yeah," drawled Phath lazily, sprawled on a silken couch amidst a nest of velvet cushions. He paused to take a gulp of luscious white wine from a silver cup and to bite into a ripe, delicious fruit. Munching, he paused to select a sweetmeat from the gold bowl at his elbow. "I could sure get used to this sort of living, all right! If this is how star gods live, chief, let's never let 'em know we aren't the genuine article!"

"A good thing for you our telepathic hosts are too considerate to read your mind, or you'd blow the game on your own," scoffed Star Pirate with a grin. Then, sobering, he turned to Zoar who was sampling some sliced cold fowl.

"What about this mind-reading stuff anyway, Doc? How come we seem to be able to do it, too?" he inquired.

The Martian dwarf shrugged, chewing the tender spiced meat. "I gather the ability to project and receive thoughts is common among the members of the human species, but that in order to exercise the faculty properly you need some sort of assistance."

"Those crystals they wear, you mean?" asked Star.

"Good thinking, boy!" grinned Zar, selecting one of the ripe fruits.

Star continued, "They seem to focus the thought-waves, as a lens focuses light-waves. The fellow guiding the bat-thing I was riding remarked, in response to my question, that he could receive my thoughts fuzzily, and that I really needed 'talismans.' It took me a minute or two to realize what he was referring to—"

"Hsst!" cried Phath, tensing suddenly. The faintest sound had come to his keen ears—the soft scuff of sandals and the creaking of hinges.

His comrades rose to their feet uncertainly, Star's hand going to the butt of his proton needle.

"Look, lad!" hissed Zoar, pointing.

A panel opened in the wall directly before them, revealing a black rectangle in which stood several robed and hooded figures. One of these in the forefront tossed back the cowl which obscured its features. It was the imperious young woman whose invitation Star had spurned—the high priestess, Zarga!

Seize them, she commanded. The robed figures flung themselves without warning upon the three visitors. Star tugged his weapon free, but an intruder touched his arm with a metal baton, and a stunning wave of force numbed him from shoulder to wrist. Paralyzed, his grip loosened and the needier fell from lax fingers to thud against the softly carpeted floor.

The numbing wave of force had come from the odd metallic batons Star had first noticed when the welcoming party had greeted them in the park. Then he had thought them merely ceremonial in nature; now he grimly understood that they were weapons of some queer sort.

"The batons conduct thought-force from the crystals!" cried Zoar. But by this time all three had been rendered helpless by the paralysis of the metal rods, which benumbed whichever part of the body they touched.

Working with swift, silent efficiency, the templer warriors bound Star and his companions, leaving their legs free but trussing their paralyzed arms behind their backs. Apparently, the numbing mind-force would soon wear off.

Hurry! Take them through the underground passage, commanded Zarga.

"A fine way to treat your gods, lady," complained the Venusian ruefully. She shot him a fierce glance from sparkling black eyes.

'Gods?' You are not gods—you have nostrils; your breast rises and falls when you breathe. What need have star gods to take breath? Is there air about the stars, fool? The gods—if gods in sooth there are!—are more like sapient energy-forms than aught else. They certainly are not flesh and blood. You are only men—men of a breed strange and unfamiliar to us, true—but men, for all that. Which does not mean that the temple cannot use you ...

"Just to set the record straight," said Star grimly, "we never claimed to be gods in the first place! That was entirely your own idea, remember?"

The priestess flushed, eyes flashing with resentment, and sank strong white teeth into her lush lower lip in vexation. But she made no reply, turning on her heel and stalking through the opening in the wall, leading the way. Her three captives were hustled along after her.

Just before the darkness of the unlit secret passage swallowed him up, Star Pirate had one glimpse of a face he recognized. It was that of the little novice, the girl called Sequin, as Prince Narba had told him—the child priestess Zarga had callously struck to the ground in her furious impatience, and whom he had helped to her feet.

Her hood had fallen back, baring her flower-like face and huge, troubled eyes that brimmed with unshed tears. Her soft lips trembled and she seemed almost on the point of speaking, of begging his pardon—

But then his captors thrust him head-first into the dark tunnel and the panel closed and locked behind him. And he was forced on into the blackness—a helpless, friendless captive on a planet of hostile strangers.

(Was not continued)