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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a6777b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62323 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62323) diff --git a/old/62323-h.zip b/old/62323-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8a2b782..0000000 --- a/old/62323-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62323-h/62323-h.htm b/old/62323-h/62323-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 0b9997e..0000000 --- a/old/62323-h/62323-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1783 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sword of Johnny Damokles, by Hugh Frazier Parker. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.caption p -{ - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - margin: 0.25em 0; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's The Sword of Johnny Damokles, by Hugh Frazier Parker - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: The Sword of Johnny Damokles - -Author: Hugh Frazier Parker - -Release Date: June 4, 2020 [EBook #62323] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SWORD OF JOHNNY DAMOKLES *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="348" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE SWORD OF JOHNNY DAMOKLES</h1> - -<h2>By HUGH FRAZIER PARKER</h2> - -<p>The mad dreams of a crazed dictator had reached from<br /> -the past and taken root in the dread Tsom Clan on<br /> -Neptune, threatening the peaceful existence of a dozen<br /> -worlds. There was little Timmy Gordon and Johnny Damokles<br /> -could do—for they were prisoners of the Tsom, working<br /> -on the monster bomb that was to signal the invasion.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories March 1943.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>A cloudlet of dust whirled across Spaceport X and rose in the thin -Callistonian air to beat against the window. The sound was gritty, -abrasive. It hadn't rained for weeks, and the sky, clear of clouds, -hovered blacker than Holofernes' soul. Jupiter touched the horizon. And -far away, Neptune's pale blue light glowed softly.</p> - -<p>Timmy Gordon walked to the window. "I've never seen old Neptune so -clear before," he said. "And say, Johnny, where'd they ever get a name -like that for a planet? Neptune! What's it mean?"</p> - -<p>Johnny Damokles laid one fat, hairy hand on the bar. He wiped a glass -with his apron and smiled. "Sure, boss," he said. "All the time you -talking space, eating space. What's a good if you don't know why -planets get name?"</p> - -<p>"Do you, chum?"</p> - -<p>"Sure t'ing, boss. Greeks are all knowings about Neptune."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"She's this way. Neptune are a old Greek god, and he are importants for -rule the ocean. So what happens?"</p> - -<p>"I'll bite, Johnny."</p> - -<p>"A fellows finds it this planet. She ain't got a names and deesa -fellows t'ink she's all watery. So they name her for Mister Neptune. -Dem times long ago ... two t'ousand year ... t'ree t'ousand. What them -hells!"</p> - -<p>"Aw for cripe's sake shut up! You dam' Greeks!"</p> - -<p>Timmy and Damokles turned. Shelton Thurner, head pilot of the Jup-Cal -Line was sitting alone at a side table. He was drunk, very drunk, and -a wisp of black hair hung over his forehead. "Shut up!" he screamed, -"talkin' about the past! Dam' dumb Greek dishwasher! Neptune was -discovered 900 years ago, aroun' 1830 ... and who in hell cares what -it's named ... excep' a Greek." Thurner staggered to his feet. Liquor -spilled.</p> - -<p>For a little man, Johnny Damokles was both fat and fast. One hand hit -the bar, he vaulted it, and faced Thurner. "What's for you cuss Greek? -She are good braves people...."</p> - -<p>"I told you to shut up," said Thurner. He planted a big hand in Johnny -Damokles' face and shoved. Johnny fell, and Thurner kicked him brutally -in the side.</p> - -<p>Then the room hit Thurner smack on the jaw.</p> - -<p>"Want some more?" asked Timmy. He stared down at the hulking pilot, as -Thurner rolled over and rubbed his face. "Want another?" Timmy repeated.</p> - -<p>The door opened, and the Director of Spaceport Operations stood framed -in its classic Callistonian marble columns.</p> - -<p>"I want the two of you in my office. Special job for T-Three."</p> - -<p>Timmy snapped to attention. T-3 was the one military department which -took immediate command of any pilot under any circumstances. Obedience -to T-3 was unquestioning and immediate. Even Thurner assumed a -semblance of military bearing and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. -He fell in beside Timmy and, scowling, followed the Director out. -Johnny Damokles watched them, wiping greasy glasses on a greasier apron -almost automatically.</p> - -<p>The Office of the Director of Operations, shared by the Port Captain, -had been designed in 2475 by Anton Sestrovic.</p> - -<p>Stars and planets moved silently across the ceiling in an endless -procession, while glowing dots, marking the positions of spaceships in -transit, crawled in well-defined lanes. Timmy shuffled his feet on the -carpet and waited for the Director to seat himself at his plexi-glass -desk. Thurner threw himself into a chair.</p> - -<p>"Well?" grunted the big pilot, "what's T-Three after now? The feathers -from an angel's backside?"</p> - -<p>The Director looked at him coldly, "No," he said. "Something a little -more dangerous to procure. Information is what they want."</p> - -<p>"Why in hell don't they ask the Greek in the bar? He knows everything! -Ask his side-kick here."</p> - -<p>Timmy flushed and knotted his fist. "You ask me ... later," he grunted.</p> - -<p>"I can't. I'm on the Jupiter run in an hour."</p> - -<p>"No," corrected the Director, "you're not on the Jupiter run. You're -heading for Neptune with Mister Gordon ... in his ship."</p> - -<p>"Why pick on me?" interrupted Timmy. "I'm not fussy about whom I share -space with ... but I just cleaned ship ... and I don't like this lug."</p> - -<p>"Sorry," said the Director. "Yours is the only ship in the Four Planets -fast enough to make the trip in time, but you're not licensed for -flight beyond Jupiter."</p> - -<p>"How about another pilot?" Timmy pulled no punches in letting the -Director know how he, personally, felt about Mr. Shelton Thurner.</p> - -<p>"I haven't another," the Director paused. "But you can take a third man -as super-cargo, Gordon. It might quiet down the Kilkenny-cat action."</p> - -<p>A slow smile rolled over Timmy's face. "Okay," he said. "I'll take -Johnny Damokles."</p> - -<p>Thurner leaped to his feet. "That dam' Greek dishwasher!" he exploded. -"What use is he in space?"</p> - -<p>"He can sing ... and read Aristotle in the original Greek ... whoever -Aristotle was."</p> - -<p>"Blast the whole job! I won't go!"</p> - -<p>"Yes you will, Thurner," said the Director. "Report to Gordon's ship in -half an hour ... or turn in your license."</p> - -<p>Thurner stomped out of the room. A slightly vulgar noise, issuing -through Timmy's pursed lips, was the last sound the big pilot heard.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"What's next?" asked Timmy. He turned to the Director as he spoke. -"What's it all about?"</p> - -<p>"See those dots on the space map?" The Director pointed ceilingward to -a spot where a cluster of red spots moved on a common center.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"This is a wild hunch. But I suspect them to be Neptunian ships ... -unlisted in our clearance papers."</p> - -<p>"You think they're a menace?"</p> - -<p>"Definitely!"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>Instead of answering the question, the Director rose and walked across -the room to a row of hermetically sealed cases. Like the display units -in small and dusty museums, these held a few yellowed books, chunks of -unclassified rock, and an occasional fossil. But one of them was broken.</p> - -<p>"This case," said the Director, "once held an obscure book by a -Twentieth Century warlord. Know the period?"</p> - -<p>"I'm a mechanic," said Timmy.</p> - -<p>"Most of us are these days. It's something of a pity. But in the middle -Twentieth Century, historians tell us of a semi-civilized chieftain -named Hetlir, or Schicklegrub, who managed to control the mass of -Europa through an intelligent but utterly unscrupulous plan. The seeds -of that plan lie in a book called <i>Mein Kampst</i> ... and this case once -held a copy."</p> - -<p>"I see," said Timmy, but he didn't.</p> - -<p>"Two years ago," continued the Director, "I entertained a leader of the -Neptunian Tsom clan. When he left, the book went with him."</p> - -<p>"How can a book affect us?"</p> - -<p>"Easily. Our only defense against the powerful semi-humans of Neptune -has been their own inability to organize any planetary unity. They -trade with us on a basis of toleration ... but they're not friends."</p> - -<p>"Why haven't they attacked before?"</p> - -<p>"Their clan system, and their wars at home."</p> - -<p>"I see," said Tim, and this time he really did. "Then, you figure that -if one clan could dominate Neptune, they'd strike?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. And Hetlir's plan calls for precisely the sort of planetary -organization that would suit the Neptunians. A master-race -dominates ... and on Neptune ... that master-race would probably be the -Tsom clan. <i>They</i> have a copy of <i>Mein Kampst</i>."</p> - -<p>"You believe they've done it?"</p> - -<p>"I see no other reason why ships should hover near our Callistonian -frontier for five days."</p> - -<p>"Then, I'll go investigate in the <i>Solabor</i>."</p> - -<p>"Not the ships, Timmy. I want you to check on Neptune from the dark -side. Look for two things. Are there any Neptunian cruisers massing? -Have the planetary wars ended?"</p> - -<p>Timmy sprawled back in his chair. "The answers to those questions," he -said, "will tell us our next step."</p> - -<p>"Exactly."</p> - -<p>"I can leave in twenty minutes."</p> - -<p>"Then," said the Director, "hop to it son. And I hope good luck goes -with you." On the ceiling, the ominous dots seemed to grow more clear -as their new significance thrust itself on Timmy. He grasped the -Director's hand, shook it briefly, and walked out.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Downstairs, in the Space Bar, Johnny Damokles sweated over some -unsavory concoction, and swore in six planetary languages, plus old -Greek and a frenzied form of English. His apron strings hung loose, -three knives and a toasting fork peeked out of his pockets.</p> - -<p>"What's cookin'?" hailed Timmy.</p> - -<p>The little Greek turned around. "West'in on'let," he blurted. "An' this -dam' blast Callisto garlic ... she are not fit for cooking dog meat!"</p> - -<p>"A clear and sensible opinion," said Tim, "neatly expressed." He leaned -over the counter, tilted Johnny's frying pan to the floor, grabbed the -Greek's apron and whipped it loose. "Come on, chum," he said. "You've -just resigned."</p> - -<p>Johnny looked sadly at the mess on the floor. "What's a matter of you, -dam' idiot? Who are resigned?"</p> - -<p>"You did, Johnny. You're going out into space with me as cook ... and -I need somebody to prepare rat poison for my pilot." He stopped, and -watched Damokles' chin drop. "Come on," he repeated, "we're going -places."</p> - -<p>"Crazies places?"</p> - -<p>"Nope! Space."</p> - -<p>Johnny Damokles' face lighted up with something of the glow his -ancestors must have shown at Thermopylae and Salamis. "No kid? You -take me? Oh, Meester Timmy Gordon ... you is a dam sweet feller." His -cap went sailing skyward. His apron followed suit, and he grabbed a -twisted necktie from beneath the counter. "Hey, boy!" he shouted to an -open-mouthed waiter. "I is resigned. Tell her to the boss. Goom bye!"</p> - -<p>"Look—" the waiter began.</p> - -<p>"You look!" Timmy said, grinning.</p> - -<p>Johnny grabbed a handful of tattered books from under the counter, -picked up his toasting fork and knives, slapped a checkered cap on his -head and dashed for the door as Timmy burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>"Whassamatter, Meester Tims. You go crazies?"</p> - -<p>"Not me ... but you. Come on, Space-hawk. Let's hit the hangar."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hangar 6, block 8, where Timmy kept the <i>Solabor</i>, was one of the -smaller impervium shanties built to accommodate just such independents -as himself. It lay at the end of the field, sheltered from the major -launching-cradle by a thick growth of scrub hedge. Timmy whistled as -he walked toward it, and Johnny Damokles picked up the tune. "Where we -go, Tim?" asked the Greek, and waved his fork in circles. "Maybe go -Jupiters?"</p> - -<p>"Nope. Can't tell you till we're aboard ship." The hangar lay just -ahead. The <i>Solabor</i> was ready. Timmy grinned.</p> - -<p>And then he stopped.</p> - -<p>No, that statement is incorrect. <i>Timmy was stopped.</i> His feet dangled -stiffly in air, as steel-strong hands, powerful as an atomic lift, -closed hard on his throat ... and lifted. His shout of warning was a -muttered croak. Then the world faded away in a purplish-gray haze. The -only sensation as darkness fell was a refrigerant chill biting at his -neck. Blackness.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="321" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>Steel-strong hands closed about Timmy's throat.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Whassamatter, Timmy ... you no sing?" asked the little Greek. He -turned around. His chin dropped with an almost audible thud on his -chest. And then, Johnny Damokles moved forward, blindly, heroically, a -28th Century Leonidas armed with a toasting fork.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">II</p> - -<p>Timmy Gordon awakened to find his immediate world in a chill of killing -frost. Cold water ran down his brow. Johnny Damokles' muttered curses -penetrated his consciousness. "What ... hap ... happened?"</p> - -<p>"Don't speaks ... you almost go for rides with Father Charon on one-way -ferryboat. Look!" Johnny turned Tim's head tenderly to one side, and -the young flyer gasped.</p> - -<p>"Great flying dragons!"</p> - -<p>Timmy's eyes traveled over the squat bulk of a figure clad from head -to foot in heavy synthi-leather. "A Neptunian," he blurted, "but dead. -How? Who did it?"</p> - -<p>"I did it ... with toastings fork!"</p> - -<p>"What?" Timmy's head went round in circles, "You killed one ton of -concentrated Neptunian-venom with a toasting fork?"</p> - -<p>"Sure things, boss. I stick heavy fellers with fork. He go hiss. Then -bad smells. Then fall down ... <i>woosh!</i>" Damokles gave a graphic -description in pantomime, and Timmy understood how this seeming miracle -had happened. A Neptunian, accustomed to a mass of seventeen times that -of Earth normal, a normal temperature at minus-180 Centigrade, and -a methane plus solid oxygen atmosphere, would need some insulating, -restricting suit to move about on frail Callisto. Apparently Johnny's -fork had struck a weak spot in the refrigerant-suit, and a mild -Callistonian climate had literally boiled the Neptunian to death.</p> - -<p>Timmy staggered to his feet and tramped through the artificial frost to -the Neptunian's side. A tiny mark, distinctive and simple, was branded -on his assailant's collar. "The Tsom clan," said Timmy to himself. "The -Director was right ... but why did he attack me in particular?"</p> - -<p>Johnny Damokles pointed, "Look!" he said.</p> - -<p>A bulky figure broke from the bushes and darted toward Hangar 6, but -in that darkness, it was unrecognizable. "Get him!" barked Timmy, and -raced down the path.</p> - -<p>The figure, whoever and whatever it was, had disappeared by the time -Timmy Gordon reached his ship. A quick inspection showed nothing in -the hangar, and he climbed aboard the <i>Solabor</i>.</p> - -<p>"About time you came," grumbled Shelton Thurner. He threw an empty -bottle through the door and climbed from his seat in the back of the -ship. "You ready to go?"</p> - -<p>Gordon disregarded the question. "You see anyone come down here?"</p> - -<p>"No. Been all alone."</p> - -<p>"A Neptunian attacked me back in the bushes. Look," he showed Thurner -the frost-bitten bruises on his throat. "Whoever set the Neptunian -on me came this way ... <i>fast</i>!" He moved forward, seized Thurner by -the shoulder, and laid his hand on the pilot's heavily-muscled chest. -If Thurner had been the man, speedy running would have resulted in -irregular breathing and heart-action. But the pilot's breathing was -calm and normal. With an angry snarl he seized Timmy's wrist and flung -him backward.</p> - -<p>"Keep your hands to yourself, Gordon!" Thurner hissed.</p> - -<p>"Sorry." Timmy's eyes squinted into slits, "I was just proving you -innocent ... to my own satisfaction." He turned, climbed out of the -ship, and hurriedly called the Director to report what had occurred. -"Shall I stay on," he asked, "and help investigate?"</p> - -<p>"No. We'll clean up the mess. Blast off as soon as possible, and get -back here sooner!"</p> - -<p>"QX, sir," said Tim, and hoisted himself aboard ship. "All set?"</p> - -<p>"Been ready for twenty minutes."</p> - -<p>"Yowsah, boss!" chimed Johnny Damokles.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There was utter silence, but in the midst of it, Callisto vanished. -Seconds later Jupiter's bulk faded redly from the sky to become a dot -silhouetted sunward. And all in silence.</p> - -<p>"Lord, man!" Thurner looked at Timmy with a hint of surprise veiling -his usual antagonism. "How in hell does this thing work?"</p> - -<p>"Search me," shrugged Timmy. "I worked it out on a sensitizing -principle. My impervium hull was supposed to reject light as a mirror -would, and so throw itself forward like a beam of light. The thing -works, too."</p> - -<p>"She sure do," chuckled the delighted Greek. He looked through the -sunward port and watched Jupiter diminishing. "Great Scotts!" he -yelled. "This ships are fast like Greek god, Mercury!"</p> - -<p>"And just as inexplicable."</p> - -<p>"Why, man?" asked Thurner, "You've told us how she worked."</p> - -<p>"You mean ... how I <i>thought</i> she would work. Unfortunately, I tried -the same principle on more impervium ... and not another ship has flown -like this one. My math was wrong, but my mechanics worked. Just once."</p> - -<p>"So I'm supposed to operate a fluke to Neptune?"</p> - -<p>"Don't worry about it, Thurner. She's dependable and her controls are -exactly like those in an ordinary planetary-liner. Watch." Timmy threw -the wheel down, and the <i>Solabor</i> tipped into a wide curve. Jupiter -vanished. Dotted pinpoints of stars prickled the black of inter-world -space.</p> - -<p>"Looks easy," grunted the pilot. He slipped over into the wheelman's -chair, and fiddled experimentally with gadgets. "Okay," he said, "after -four or five minutes I'll be able to handle her."</p> - -<p>"QX," said Timmy. "There's a copy of Maconachy's book on Supra-solar -Navigation behind you. Great book, Maconachy, wouldn't want to be in -space without it to lean on." Thurner grunted again.</p> - -<p>"Yeah. Good stuff for you practical astrogators. Put it over there in -reach. And listen...." Thurner's voice lost some of its begrudging -tone. "We're on this trip together. Let's make it peaceable." He -stretched out a broad paw, and Timmy shook. Thurner, for all his -slyness and for all the ease with which Tim had knocked him down back -there in the Space Bar, was a powerful man. Tim wondered why he hadn't -fought back.</p> - -<p>"All right!" he said, "We're together ... for the duration."</p> - -<p>"It's a bargain. Now ... tell me more about how she operates. This -ship's <i>actually faster</i> than light?"</p> - -<p>"Yep! Warps across a light beam just the way a sailboat can exceed the -speed of wind on a certain tacks. Look back at the sun."</p> - -<p>Thurner turned his head. "I'll be damned. A Doppler effect!"</p> - -<p>"We're exceeding the speed of light ... right now!"</p> - -<p>"And you're sure this principle of yours won't work on any other ship. -Was there anything mixed with the impervium?"</p> - -<p>"Central labs checked it," Timmy replied. "It was pure impervium."</p> - -<p>"Where'd you get it?"</p> - -<p>"By <i>coincidence</i> ... from Neptune."</p> - -<p>Thurner's face went red. "Look, guy," he said, "The war's off, and I -don't like being played for a fool. There's no impervium on Neptune."</p> - -<p>"Sorry, Thurner. This metal did come from Neptune. I bought the back -fin of the old XC-34 ... it was towed in from Nep back in '67."</p> - -<p>"I see." Thurner's brows knitted, and he muttered an apology. Then, -turning away, he ran through the logarithms in Maconachy, made a few -quick checks, shifted dials coolly and competently, and leaned back. -"I'll take her in from here," he said.</p> - -<p>"From the dark side," cautioned Tim.</p> - -<p>"Okay. I'll drive part way to Pluto ... then swing back."</p> - -<p>"QX," said Gordon. He spun about and walked to the back of the little -ship. "How do you like it, Johnny?" he asked, and Damokles' face -lighted up.</p> - -<p>"She's one dam' fine ship ... go like go-to-hell fireball ... but look -it here, Meester Timmy."</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Why you say she won't work for any other ships?"</p> - -<p>"Just won't. That's all."</p> - -<p>"Maybe this planets Neptune do it."</p> - -<p>"How, Johnny? We tested the impervium from every angle, and found it -nothing but pure metal."</p> - -<p>"Maybe is so. Dam' gods, Neptune, are funny feller. Sometimes he look -like friend ... sometimes he are foe. Sometimes just do nothing ... but -plenty happen just because Neptune are there. See?"</p> - -<p>Tim whistled. "I see what you mean. Like a catalytic agent. You can't -detect it. You don't test it ... <i>but it does something</i>."</p> - -<p>"Who's the difference? Call her cataltickic agents ... call her fool -gods Neptune. What them hells!" The little Greek shrugged his shoulders -and was silent.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Up in the <i>Solabor's</i> bow, later, Thurner spun the dials on the -automatic calculator. Timmy watched him idly, then, moving away from -the window, fell asleep. Johnny Damokles hummed an old tune, and -lost himself in reveries on Greece. It was strange that so intense a -national feeling could survive the melting pot of world assimilation. -Yet the Greek national feeling had survived unchanged for more than -three thousand years. The greasy old suit which Johnny Damokles wore, -remained almost unchanged from the 20th Century attire which his -ancestors had worn at Crete and in the long, bloody fight down through -the mountains from Olympus. Alone amongst all the people of the 28th -Century, the Greeks remembered their past glory, and the bloody history -which had split them as a nation, yet welded the iron of heroism into -their souls.</p> - -<p>Only the Greeks, in a world of mechanics and science, were still -concerned with events now dead and gone. Small nations may live ... in -tradition.</p> - -<p>Johnny Damokles let his gaze slowly fall from that wild pattern of -unvisited universes which spread before him in the <i>Solabor's</i> -ports ... and slowly turned the pages of his beloved Aristotle. An -essay on the nature of the order of things caught his attention, but -reading was no pleasant occupation inside the <i>Solabor's</i> stuffy little -cabin. Johnny's head nodded. His eyes fluttered. He fell asleep.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Timmy Gordon's return from slumber was rather like the awakening of a -city-dweller whose ear is annoyed by a sudden onslaught of silence. -Accustomed by now to the sensation of motion, immobility woke him up.</p> - -<p>"Stopped?" he yawned. "Why?" The cabin was dark, and in that velvety -obscuration, Timmy could barely see the recumbent sleeping form of -Johnny Damokles. He leaped to his feet. Strange, his body felt heavy, -leaden, drugged.</p> - -<p>A faint bluish light, barely enough to weaken the black of night, -pushed its way through the window. Timmy staggered forward to the -control bench. Shelton Thurner was gone!</p> - -<p>But where? How? Where were they?</p> - -<p>Timmy reached for the starting button to test his motors, but the -panel had been stripped. Bare.</p> - -<p>The answer came swiftly. To the accompaniment of a blast of noisome -gas, the door swung open. Two figures entered. The door thumped shut.</p> - -<p>"Thurner!" gasped Timmy. "But what? Where've you been?" His questions -were interrupted, sharply. Behind Shelton Thurner, and barely visible, -stood the hulking figure of a Neptunian.</p> - -<p>Thurner's hand shot out and clamped on Tim Gordon's arm, "Bow!" he -said. "You're on Neptune now ... you swine."</p> - -<p>Timmy's fist shot out with the speed of a striking cobra, and a solid -blow bounced off the renegade pilot's jaw. Nothing happened. Thurner -grinned. His evil gapped-teeth gleamed. He raised his hand and brought -it down with a flat <i>thwack</i> on the young Earthman's cheek. Timmy felt -as though a sharpened file had hit him. Warm blood ran down his chin, -and dripped floorward.</p> - -<p>"Things are different now," said Thurner. "I don't have to take -anything from you pigs." He drew back his hand for a second blow, but -the figure behind him stepped forward.</p> - -<p>"No!" it ordered. "Not now. There'll be time ... yet."</p> - -<p>"What's all this?" snapped Timmy.</p> - -<p>Thurner smirked, "You're on Neptune ... and are ... shall we say ... a -guest of the Tsom Clan."</p> - -<p>"Distinctly," hissed the semi-human figure behind Thurner. "Oh most -distinctly ... a guest."</p> - -<p>"And this ... renegade?"</p> - -<p>"You allude to Shelton Thurner?"</p> - -<p>"Yes!"</p> - -<p>The Neptunian looked from Timmy to the big pilot. "I do not believe," -he said, "that you will understand this easily. But you do your late -associate an injustice. He is no renegade ... but a leader of the Tsom -Clan."</p> - -<p>"A Neptunian? Impossible!"</p> - -<p>"Not at all my dear sir. We Neptunians have science. Given the proper -materials, our surgeons can duplicate the ... rather ... loathesome -appearance of you humans."</p> - -<p>"You can make men out of a semi-human?"</p> - -<p>"We are adaptable, my dear sir." The creature's nictitating membrane -drew up over his eyeballs and gave him a deceptively sleepy appearance.</p> - -<p>"But what about the temperature? How could Thurner stand Callistonian -heat and gravity, when built for that of Neptune?"</p> - -<p>"Enough of this foolish questioning!" barked Thurner, "Take the fools -outside."</p> - -<p>The creature at his side raised a leather-clad hand in a peaceful, -gentle gesture. "Patience, friend," he said, "We owe our <i>guest</i> much. -For he has much to give us."</p> - -<p>"I have!" blurted Timmy.</p> - -<p>"Yes!" the Neptunian's manner was calm and unruffled. "You, a skilled -practical mechanic, can contribute to a glorious Neptunian victory."</p> - -<p>"And you think I will?"</p> - -<p>"I know you will. No human-being has the nerve structure to stand up -under our harsher persuasive methods. It is quite important for us to -learn your method of treating impervium for these faster-than-light -ships."</p> - -<p>"But my method doesn't work."</p> - -<p>"That's true," interjected Thurner. "We talked about it on the way out."</p> - -<p>"Most regrettable!" Again that unpleasant, half-dead membrane flashed -across the Neptunian's eyes. He seemed to sleep. Minutes passed before -he looked up again. "In that event," he said, "you must suffer for -the good of Neptune. Follow me." He waited while Timmy climbed into a -heated, anti-gravitational space suit.</p> - -<p>Thurner cuffed Johnny Damokles to his feet and motioned for him to -put on a space suit. Then completely in command of the situation, the -Neptunians led Tim and Johnny out into the blue cold of a monster and -horrible world. They paused long enough for Thurner and his companion -to remove the space suits they'd worn in the heated cabin of the -<i>Solabor</i>, and when Thurner seemed to peel his very skin from his -body, Timmy understood the miracle by which the pilot had posed as a -Callistonian.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">III</p> - -<p>The pilot was actually a Neptunian. But a beautifully made synthetic -skin served him as an undetectable protection against both heat and -gravity ... made him, to all appearances, an Inner-Worldian. Timmy was -amazed. These Neptunians were <i>surgeons</i> ... and thermal engineers.</p> - -<p>"This way," motioned the Neptunian, and drew in a vast breath of -Neptune's methane atmosphere. His chest swelled until its minute scales -seemed on the verge of separating. Man-like in height and size, his -adaptation to a terrible gravity had made him a creature of steel-hard -sinew and muscle. Thurner, or whatever his proper name might be, was -almost as solid and several inches taller. No wonder he could consume -Callistonian whisky by the quart and still navigate a ship successfully.</p> - -<p>They walked across the plain, dropped downward into a slit-like canyon. -Ahead of them lay a fortress whose only decoration was the simple -symbol of the Tsom clan. Its walls bristled with blast guns, but closer -examination showed Timmy that they were all of an obsolete pattern. -Methane had clogged their rifling and made them utterly useless.</p> - -<p>"These aren't used," said their guide. "Just there to frighten away -lower forms of life. Watch!" He flicked a switch, and the wall's outer -surface raised to reveal a vast network of grids. "Heat grids," he -explained. "Perfect defense against the other clans."</p> - -<p>"But we don't need defence," added Thurner. "Neptune is a united planet -now."</p> - -<p>The gates swung wide, and Timmy, with an empty feeling, walked in. -Johnny Damokles followed. His antiquarian interests still shielding him -from the horror of their situation.</p> - -<p>The council chamber, holy-of-holies, audience room, or whatever the -Neptunians called it, was perhaps the most impressive place either -Timmy Gordon or Johnny Damokles had ever entered.</p> - -<p>Black rock lined the walls and seemed one with the primeval essence of -absolute cold. Atmosphere, at 17 G's, pressed hard against them, barely -repelled by their space suits. The Neptunian turned. "If this," he -said, "were a nightmare, I'd order you to kneel and worship at the feet -of the Clan Tsom's god."</p> - -<p>"Why not?" Timmy's belligerent Irish chin thrust out.</p> - -<p>"Because, my dear guests, we have advanced considerably beyond such -idle superstitions. Neptune, and the Tsoms, are the perfection of true -civilization. We <i>know</i> there are no gods. We are neither concerned -with ritual nor rank. Here, all are equal, under my <i>leadership</i>."</p> - -<p>"Interesting," commented Timmy. "I seem to have heard it before."</p> - -<p>Johnny Damokles nodded. "She are wonderfuls idea ... but gods is dam' -important fellers. So is old time's history."</p> - -<p>The Neptunian looked at him. "What," he asked Thurner, "is this? Some -primitive?"</p> - -<p>"A Greek," the pilot explained. "Sticks to the old beliefs and the old -ways of Terra."</p> - -<p>Those nictitating lids nicked up. "Then ... he's of no use to us."</p> - -<p>"He'll do for raw material." Thurner shoved the little Greek to the -floor, "Use him for Extract 47-a. Humanizing fluid."</p> - -<p>The Neptunian shuddered. "The thought," he said, "of treating another -of our people with that semi-humanizing element is repulsive. But -sacrifice in the interest of conquest is needed. We must have more -Neptunians capable of resisting higher temperatures and lower -gravities."</p> - -<p>Thurner grinned. "Precisely," he said. He turned to Timmy, and judged -him as a man might judge a Percheron stallion. "This one is too lean."</p> - -<p>The Leader nodded. "Our dear guest will be of use in research and -mechanics. We might even grant him certain liberties."</p> - -<p>Timmy glared at the monster, hating that assumed tolerance, then spat -with deliberation on the floor. "Try to use me," he grunted.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"<i>A challenge?</i>" The Leader pressed a button. A bell rang, and two -squat Neptunians glided into the chamber. There was a burble and a -hissed command. The Neptunians retreated, then returned dragging a -small box behind them. Its wires were a tangle maze of tentacles. -Icy cold exuded from it, to chill the two Callistonians even through -their heavily-heated space suits. The Leader barked an order. Timmy -found himself flat on his back with a Neptunian servant pressing -the face-plate of his suit down hard. There was a little whirl of -power. Agonies unimaginable shot through every nerve of his skull. He -screamed. Restraint was impossible. The pain eased.</p> - -<p>"You see!" said the Neptunian, "that treatment does no harm to nerves -or tissues, and actually prolongs life."</p> - -<p>Timmy looked past the grinning faces of his tormenters and fixed his -glare on the reptilian Leader. "Try again," he said. "I'm still tough."</p> - -<p>The pain came back. It spun through skull and brain like a biting -buzz-saw. Timmy gritted his teeth, then again came the inevitable -scream. He wanted to faint. He prayed for death. But that buzzing pain -was an elixir ... a stimulating and eternal torment. Timmy's hands -thumped hard against the floor. His feet jerked, his spine arched, and -he screamed again and again in a great crescendo. The pain eased.</p> - -<p>"Could you stand that," said the grinning Neptunian, "for a lifetime?"</p> - -<p>"<i>No!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Then I warn you, the next time we apply it, you'll be alone in a dark -room ... with a time clock on the door set for a one-week period. No -one will enter. No one can stop the <i>treatment</i>. Will you cooperate?"</p> - -<p>"Within limits."</p> - -<p>"That's for me to judge. Give me the figures on how you managed to -create that ship of yours."</p> - -<p>"That's agreeable. You could take them anyhow." Timmy reached into a -pocket of his space suit. He pulled out a bundle of papers and handed -them to the Leader. "I warn you," he added, "they won't work." Then he -swore at himself for saying that. If, by ingenuity, he could manage to -convince the Neptunians that his ship would work, he might waste a lot -of their time in research and give the Inner Worlds time to find out -what was happening. "I might manage to make one work at that," he added -swiftly.</p> - -<p>The Neptunian scanned the papers. "No," he said, "this report of your -scientific laboratories is definitely conclusive. I can see that you've -done everything possible. The ship you have, or <i>had</i>, is a freak. But -you're an expert in mechanics and photography. We'll put you in the -research labs. Your friend can go with you until we need him."</p> - -<p>The Neptunian cast one final look at the two captives, smiled, and -walked away. Thurner jerked his head at an inner door. "Come on," he -ordered. "Your quarters will be near the labs." He led them down a -succession of corridors to a room where temperature and gravity stood -at Earth-norm, and Callisto constant. "You can do without those suits," -he said, and shut the door.</p> - -<p>Timmy and Damokles looked around. The room was lighted quite brightly. -A window gave onto the plain. Above them, Triton whirled its endless -mad dance, speeding across the sky in the opposite direction of the -planet's rotation. Timmy watched it. Here and there in the dark sky, -synthetic power-moons hovered to steal energy from the cosmos.</p> - -<p>"They gonna feed us, anyhows," said Johnny Damokles, and turned on the -faucet of a food conveyor. Hot, spicy-scented edibles poured forth, -but Timmy wasn't interested. Not far from them, half-lost in the gray -light, two giant semi-globes towered heavenwards. Tim stared at them. -Apparently the Neptunians were building another power-moon to add to -that whirling band above. He watched as squat figures moved up and -down its side, then walked from the window in a fog. Damokles tried to -engage him in conversation, but Timmy was too defeated. He fell asleep.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Morning dawned swiftly because of the giant planet's rapid rotation. -Seven hours of total blackness were then followed by a <i>day</i> ... but -a day in name only. The sun out here had only one one-thousandth of -its Earthian strength. For human purposes, it was useless. Timmy was -standing by the window when the door swung open. Thurner stood on the -threshold.</p> - -<p>"Come on," he ordered, "your job is ready." He looked at Johnny -Damokles. "Might as well use you, too. Get into your space suit." The -little Greek obeyed.</p> - -<p>The next seven hours passed as a nightmare for Timmy. For Johnny, -working outside as a slave on the power-moon, they must have been pure -hell.</p> - -<p>Timmy returned to their room that evening to find a tired little Greek -sprawled on the couch. "Work you hard, chum?"</p> - -<p>Damokles groaned. A livid weal ran down the side of his face, where a -blow had slammed his head about in his helmet. "We get these Neptune -bums ... Timmy," he said.</p> - -<p>"Sure thing, pal. But how?"</p> - -<p>The Greek shrugged his shoulders. "They guards you close?"</p> - -<p>"No ... but we couldn't get away without the ship."</p> - -<p>"Yeah." Damokles' chin dropped on his chest. "I guess we gives up." -But despite the Greek's apparent despair, he had an idea of some sort. -Timmy Gordon knew it, but he also knew that Johnny was afraid to talk -about it in a room where sound detectors might pick up any hint of -escape. "Let's go to sleep, Johnny," he said.</p> - -<p>"Yeah ... you stay your side of bed, too. Last night you kick me blacks -and blue in rib."</p> - -<p>Which was distinctly untrue.</p> - -<p>But if that was the way Johnny wanted things ... it was distinctly QX -with Timmy Gordon. He stretched himself on the narrow couch beside -Johnny. For twenty minutes he seemed to doze, then began kicking about -fretfully, and muttering as though in the clutch of a nightmare.</p> - -<p>"That's right, Timmy," the little Greek whispered. "Keep her going. You -kicks hard ... yells ... them spies are too busy watching you. I can -talks."</p> - -<p>Timmy's reply was another boot to Johnny's shin. "Go on," he whispered, -then kicked again.</p> - -<p>"Remember what I say to you in ships?"</p> - -<p>"About what?"</p> - -<p>"About fool gods Neptune ... cataltickic agents ... Aristotle."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Maybe I are right."</p> - -<p>"So what?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe if impervium get soaked on Neptune long enough ... then maybes -it behave like metal in your ship?"</p> - -<p>"Go on." Timmy groaned, thrashed about. Threw a fist that thudded into -Johnny's ribs. The Greek grunted, and resumed his whispering.</p> - -<p>"They puts me working on power-moons outside."</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"She are mades from metal of wrecked space-liner. I see one plate who -say XC-34 on her."</p> - -<p>"Great Jupiter, Johnny! That's the liner I got the metal for my ship -from ... just one fin was all I had to work with."</p> - -<p>"Shut up! Dam' fools. Want him Neptune stinkers hear you?"</p> - -<p>Instead of answering, Timmy grunted in his supposed sleep. Damokles -whispered on: "They don't guards me! They make me be dam' fool clowns -for Neptuners to laugh at. 'Get sky hook! Get bucket steam-ice!' That's -what them lizards-men holler at me."</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Then ... <i>cracks</i>! Hit Greek with fist. Don't like."</p> - -<p>"Skip it, Johnny. What's your idea?"</p> - -<p>"I hear them say ... artificial power moon ain't gonna be that at -all. Gonna be giant bomb. Gonna load with tons an' tons an' tons of -<i>dynotron</i>. Shoot him to Jupiter ... blow all air off everythings!"</p> - -<p>"Good lord! Dynotron would do just that ... and then they'll repeat the -procedure."</p> - -<p>"Is right! I hear lizard-pig say just that!"</p> - -<p>"How do you figure on stopping 'em, Johnny?"</p> - -<p>Damokles wriggled, poked Timmy hard with his elbow. "Lay still!" he -shouted. "I can no sleeps!" He butted up against Timmy, and began to -whisper in fast chaotic broken murmurs. "I got a long story to tells -you, Timmy. All about powerful old Greeks' king."</p> - -<p>For half an hour they trashed about, while Damokles unfolded his plan. -At last, Timmy grunted. "QX," he said. "Can do!" He rolled over and -fell into an extremely troubled sleep.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">IV</p> - -<p>The next day, at Neptune's dawn, Johnny Damokles was led back to his -work on the <i>dynotron</i> bomb. Timmy, sleepy-eyed and wavering, followed -his captors to a place in the mech lab. He worked quietly for half an -hour, then beckoned to his overseer.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" hissed the Neptunian.</p> - -<p>"I want to see your leader."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"None of your blasted business. Just do what you're told, or be mighty -blasted sorry."</p> - -<p>The Neptunian scratched an itching neck flange. "All right," he said, -"but you'd better have something to make this worth while." He shoved -Timmy forward, released a door catch, and led him down the hall. -Three staccato raps opened another door, and Timmy again stood in the -presence of Neptune's Leader.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" the Leader's voice was suave, but flat. "Oh, it's you ... you've -something important?"</p> - -<p>"I want to work in the photo-lab."</p> - -<p>"Something to do with your way of sensitizing impervium?"</p> - -<p>"That's right."</p> - -<p>"Utterly useless. We've checked the figures of your own labs and find -that they are completely accurate. That ship of yours is a freak ... -and we can see no reason as to <i>why</i> it works."</p> - -<p>"I still have an idea."</p> - -<p>The Neptunian glared at him, and again that dead-alive membrane -concealed all key to his thoughts. "You're not trying to convince me -you're willing to join us, are you?"</p> - -<p>"Nope," Timmy's Irish jaw shot out belligerently, "I just figure it'll -be easy to escape from there."</p> - -<p>A hiss was apparently the Outer-worldian's manner of laughing, for the -hiss he emitted was as jovial a sound as Timmy had heard since landing -on the planet. "I mean it!" Timmy finished, "and I warn you to watch -me."</p> - -<p>"Your spirit," the Neptune said, "is admirable." He scrawled a few -notes, handed them to Timmy. "Here," he said, "is an order to work in -the photo-labs. I shall watch your struggles with great pleasure." His -hand closed on Timmy's shoulder and Timmy gritted his teeth, shook his -way loose, and walked to the door.</p> - -<p>Mockingly, the Leader laughed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That night, when Timmy returned to their room, he found the little -Greek seated, eyes blazing, on the bed. "S'matter, chum?"</p> - -<p>"Dam-blasted Shelton Thurner ... chase me all over hell for sky-hook. -Don't like it!"</p> - -<p>"Forget it. You're tired and so am I. Grab off a mouthful of that -synthi-food and let's hit the hay." He turned on the faucet, drew a cup -of steaming brew and handed it to the Greek.</p> - -<p>"I got the mixture," he whispered between gulps. "Did you get the -metal?" The Greek nodded. "Yep," he replied, then in a louder tone. -"Let's get to bed, Timmy."</p> - -<p>Lights were quickly extinguished, and the two, with much moaning and -groaning, crawled under the covers. But tonight there was need for -action, not talk. Timmy pushed the blankets up to make a low tent, and -handed Johnny a torch he'd stolen. Improvised though it was, their bed -made a flawless, light-tight darkroom. Timmy climbed out to make sure -no ray escaped, then plunged into bed again.</p> - -<p>"The metal!" he grunted. Johnny Damokles handed him a tiny piece of -impervium. It was, approximately, three inches square.</p> - -<p>"Swell," said Tim. "Now hold this light." He dug deep into his pockets -and pulled forth a bottle of stolen liquid. "As nearly as I can tell, -this is the same mixture I used in making my other ship." He dipped the -square of impervium in it, then waited. Dry at last, he wiped the metal -square until it shone, and grinned as the first reactions started. -"It works!" he nearly shouted. But that was neither the time nor the -place for shouting. "Watch!" he whispered. Taking the torch from Johnny -Damokles, he held it close against his treated impervium. The little -square darted away so swiftly that it nearly tore loose from his hand. -It did pull him a foot or so toward the edge of the bed before he -switched off his light. There was no doubt about it. Impervium, when -exposed to some unknown Neptunian radiation, underwent an untestable -change and behaved precisely as had the metal of his ship.</p> - -<p>"Hallelujahs!" burbled Damokles beneath his breath. "Now we fix up dam' -fool Shelton Thurners."</p> - -<p>"Maybe?" said Tim with unexpected pessimism. "I've stolen enough fluid -for feet on that dam' bomb." He paused, "Are you sure the whole thing's -impervium?"</p> - -<p>"Yep! But how I gonna rub this stuff on ship?"</p> - -<p>"Don't rub it. Pour this bottle on a high perpendicular point and let -it run down the sides. We'll take a chance that the dim light here on -Nep will prevent our process from knocking your bomb over ahead of -time."</p> - -<p>"Yeah. Then you get more solutions. We pour her on ... an' dam' bomb go -sail away fast as hell!"</p> - -<p>Timmy grinned. "Not quite, pal," he said, "I'm figuring on something -just a little more effective." He took a piece of paper and made a few -hasty sketches. Johnny Damokles watched with interest. Then he broke -into a smile.</p> - -<p>"I see," nodded the Greek. "She are just like story I tell you about -old Greek king."</p> - -<p>"Exactly.... And now, let me have time enough to get rid of our scrap -of test metal and we'll turn in."</p> - -<p>"No," protested Damokles. "Give me this piece impervium. I got good -idea. Secret."</p> - -<p>Timmy, without further question, handed Johnny the bit of treated -impervium and added to it his bottle of stolen liquid. "Good night, -chum," he mumbled, and rolled over to sleep.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ten days and ten nights passed in that way. Each night Timmy had -another flask of his sensitizer to give Johnny. And each night Damokles -reported another successful application of the fluid. Miraculous that -the two of them could so successfully hoodwink their captors? Yes. -But then the Neptunians thought of the two as members of a lesser -race, and gave them almost complete freedom of movement ... within -limits. Timmy blessed the arrogance from which this stemmed. From the -photo-labs he stole his sensitizer. In the mech labs he succeeded in -removing and assembling certain vital cogs and rheostats. Put together -they would give him control of Neptune's gigantic <i>dynotron</i> bomb. And -Timmy Gordon was the man to put any machinery together. He did it on -the tenth day. That same day, he stole a length of steel chain and a -sharpened metal hook. Why he stole them, Timmy Gordon didn't know. But -Damokles had asked him to, and he'd given his promise.</p> - -<p>"Here you are," he said when he reached their room that night. He -slipped the hook and chain to Johnny beneath the covers of their bed. -"Goin' fishin' with it, chum?"</p> - -<p>"You bet your dam' boots. I catch fat fish, too."</p> - -<p>Timmy smiled. Then, quietly, he showed Johnny Damokles the piece of -apparatus he'd constructed. It looked somewhat like the primitive -20th Century radio sets one saw in museums, but its purpose, as Tim -explained, was more important. Compact, weighing no more than fifty or -sixty grams, it gave him complete radio control of anything treated -with his sensitizing fluid. What was more important, it took its power -from almost any faint source of light, and should be effective up to -two or three thousand miles.</p> - -<p>"She work?" asked Damokles.</p> - -<p>"She will if static doesn't cut me out too much."</p> - -<p>"Dam' good," grunted the Greek. "Now we show them dam-blast Neptuners -what good Old Greek History are."</p> - -<p>"Correct, chum. When will the bomb be ready?"</p> - -<p>"She are ready now."</p> - -<p>"Swell! I might as well blast her off."</p> - -<p>"No!" Johnny Damokles' tone was urgent, pleading. "You wait ... do him -tomorrow when Neptune fellers can see."</p> - -<p>Morning dawned with its usual dim lessening of the Neptunian murk. -A methane breeze rolled down from some distant mountain range and -swirled in noxious vapors across the plain. Two Neptunian guardsmen -saw a flicker of movement in a nearby sandheap and cut loose with the -fullest fury of their heat-grids. There was a crackle. An unassimilated -tribesman rolled over, kicked a spurred foot in the air, arched his -haunches and died.</p> - -<p>The little tragedy, repeated time and again on that ruthless planet, -was no more than window-dressing for more significant events. The -crackling, burning grids were crackling arcs of doom. Like Gabriel's -trumpet, they served to awaken Tim and Johnny Damokles.</p> - -<p>"What's dam' noise?" grunted the Greek.</p> - -<p>"Target practice." Timmy was about to deliver further comments, but a -rap at the door cut him loose. "Come in!" he barked. The door opened. -The Leader entered.</p> - -<p>"Ahhhh. Good morning, my dear guests." He rubbed his hands in a gesture -that grated scales together. "We've a special <i>treat</i> for you this -morning. And perhaps, since you've displayed certain interests in -<i>history</i>, you'd enjoy sharing in the history of the future."</p> - -<p>"Would we?" queried Timmy.</p> - -<p>"Belligerence is an ill-fitting trait of yours, Mister Gordon," said -the Neptunian. "An inadequate one, I'll add."</p> - -<p>"We're wasting time," interrupted Tim. "Get on with it!"</p> - -<p>"Impetuous? You've a right to be. Get into your space suits and come -outside. We're launching a special present for the Jovian System ... -and feel that you gentlemen would enjoy it."</p> - -<p>"I know," muttered Timmy.</p> - -<p>"Of course, you do." The Leader was grinning as he spoke. "We've given -your companion full opportunity to tell you about it. But come -along ... unless you prefer a few rather ... delicate ... adjustments -of the nervous system."</p> - -<p>Johnny Damokles laughed. But beyond that, neither he nor Tim had -anything further to say. They climbed into their space clothes and -followed the Leader out into the Neptunian twilight.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">V</p> - -<p>In a natural amphitheater, walled in at one side by the cliff of the -ravine and sheltered from the methane wind by the parapets of the Tsom -fortress, stood the gigantic Neptunian bomb. Its impervium walls glowed -with a faint, cold light. Regularly, down its sides from ten points, -uneven streaks marked the course of Timmy's sensitizing fluid. Their -exact placement was coincidentally fortunate. Each served to counteract -the other, though the inward pressure they exerted must have been -tremendous indeed.</p> - -<p>The Leader was laughing in a repulsively reptilian way as he ascended -his rostrum. Timmy and Damokles followed. "Observe," said the Leader, -"the ingenious controls by which I guide the rocket-blasts from this -remote station." He pointed to his control board, motioned Timmy and -Johnny to stay away from it, and chuckled as they obeyed. Then, for a -full hour, he delivered an impassioned and almost insane address to his -followers.</p> - -<p>As near as Timmy could judge, the Leader's address was a skilful bit of -vituperation against the injustices done Neptune. But it was effective. -A frenzied circle of lizard-men howled as he finished speaking. "And -now," said the Leader, "we send our little present on his way."</p> - -<p>He reached for the control board. The bomb shot heavenward.</p> - -<p>Yes, it shot heavenward.</p> - -<p>But the Leader <i>hadn't touched</i> the controls.</p> - -<p>Timmy's fingers anticipated him. A flick on his own secret control -board had shot the bomb silently out toward the void. The Leader's -finger froze in mid-air. His jaw dropped. He followed the bomb in its -flight, and every muscle tightened, when it stopped dead at a point -half a mile above Neptune. There the bomb hovered, unmoving. Its orbit, -if an orbit you could call it, held it exactly above the center of the -Tsom fortress. The Leader's finger jammed down on his control button.</p> - -<p>Flames blasted from the bomb's jets. It whirled crazily on its own -axis ... but was otherwise immovable.</p> - -<p>"Interesting, isn't it?" said Timmy mockingly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Leader looked at him. "You've done this?" His tone was most -incredulous. He darted toward Timmy.</p> - -<p>"Don't move," ordered the Earthman. He flicked a button and the great -bomb dropped silently. The Leader stopped. There was utter silence as -every creature in the amphitheater realized what was happening.</p> - -<p>"Well," said the Leader at last, "it's an impasse, isn't it."</p> - -<p>"No ... it's check ... and check-mate."</p> - -<p>"Yes," chuckled Johnny Damokles, "she are old Greeks' gambit."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Leader darted back to his control board. Again and again he shot -every ounce of power into the bomb's blasts. Nothing happened. It spun -about at that same tantalizing half-mile above their heads.</p> - -<p>"Most ingenius," said the Leader. "You falsified those papers on how -your principle worked?"</p> - -<p>"Believe that if you want," said Timmy with a shrug. "And now ... I'm -taking over."</p> - -<p>The Leader bowed.</p> - -<p>But Johnny Damokles stepped into the picture.</p> - -<p>"I take over first," he said. "I gots present for dam' blast Shelton -Thurner." He leaned over the front of the rostrum and caught the -big Neptunian spy by the coat collar. Timmy, guarding against any -treacherous assault, kept his eyes on the Leader and the bomb.</p> - -<p>"Holla, Meester Shelton Thurner," greeted the Greek, "You ask Johnny -Damokles dam' fool question. You want sky-hook? Good! I gots sky-hook." -From a capacious pocket of his space britches he drew a hook and a -dangling length of chain. He tightened the collar and jabbed the hook -through it. "Goombye, Meester No-goods!" he chortled. He jerked the -rest of the chain from his pocket. A few scraps of treated impervium -were hitched to its end. Light hit them. They shot aloft, dragging -Thurner behind them like the tail of a crazy kite, and dangled high -above the plain.</p> - -<p>"How you like sky-hooks?" yelled the Greek.</p> - -<p>Timmy laughed.</p> - -<p>"I regret," said the Leader in a suavely courteous tone, "the loss of -an aide. But tell me, how did you evolve this ingenious plan? Am I -over-inquisitive?"</p> - -<p>"The plan ... belongs to Johnny Damokles."</p> - -<p>"Sure Mikes!" blurted the Greek. "She are old Greeks' story. You tell -her, Timmy. My talk all mixed with sky-hooks!"</p> - -<p>Timmy fingered his control board. "Long ago," he said, "a Greek king -acquired excessive power through force. As a symbol of that force ... -a sword dangled always above his head. By a hair. The king's name ... -like that of my friend ... was Damocles. They call the story, <i>The -Sword of Damocles</i>."</p> - -<p>Above their heads hovered that menacing ball of <i>dynotron</i>, enough to -blast all life from Neptune. The Neptunian leader watched it.</p> - -<p>"I believe ... that I understand." He turned away, then swung back -again. "One must accept facts intelligently. Visiphone your Terrestian -diplomats. Neptune will accept any reasonable terms."</p> - -<p>Overhead, the sword of Johnny Damokles glowed faintly.</p> - -<p>"The Greeks," Johnny Damokles said softly to nobody in particular, -"have a word for it. <i>Freedom!</i>" He smiled. "Let'sa call home, Tims. -I'm cold!"</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sword of Johnny Damokles, by -Hugh Frazier Parker - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SWORD OF JOHNNY DAMOKLES *** - -***** This file should be named 62323-h.htm or 62323-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/3/2/62323/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: The Sword of Johnny Damokles - -Author: Hugh Frazier Parker - -Release Date: June 4, 2020 [EBook #62323] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SWORD OF JOHNNY DAMOKLES *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - THE SWORD OF JOHNNY DAMOKLES - - By HUGH FRAZIER PARKER - - The mad dreams of a crazed dictator had reached from - the past and taken root in the dread Tsom Clan on - Neptune, threatening the peaceful existence of a dozen - worlds. There was little Timmy Gordon and Johnny Damokles - could do--for they were prisoners of the Tsom, working - on the monster bomb that was to signal the invasion. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories March 1943. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -A cloudlet of dust whirled across Spaceport X and rose in the thin -Callistonian air to beat against the window. The sound was gritty, -abrasive. It hadn't rained for weeks, and the sky, clear of clouds, -hovered blacker than Holofernes' soul. Jupiter touched the horizon. And -far away, Neptune's pale blue light glowed softly. - -Timmy Gordon walked to the window. "I've never seen old Neptune so -clear before," he said. "And say, Johnny, where'd they ever get a name -like that for a planet? Neptune! What's it mean?" - -Johnny Damokles laid one fat, hairy hand on the bar. He wiped a glass -with his apron and smiled. "Sure, boss," he said. "All the time you -talking space, eating space. What's a good if you don't know why -planets get name?" - -"Do you, chum?" - -"Sure t'ing, boss. Greeks are all knowings about Neptune." - -"Well?" - -"She's this way. Neptune are a old Greek god, and he are importants for -rule the ocean. So what happens?" - -"I'll bite, Johnny." - -"A fellows finds it this planet. She ain't got a names and deesa -fellows t'ink she's all watery. So they name her for Mister Neptune. -Dem times long ago ... two t'ousand year ... t'ree t'ousand. What them -hells!" - -"Aw for cripe's sake shut up! You dam' Greeks!" - -Timmy and Damokles turned. Shelton Thurner, head pilot of the Jup-Cal -Line was sitting alone at a side table. He was drunk, very drunk, and -a wisp of black hair hung over his forehead. "Shut up!" he screamed, -"talkin' about the past! Dam' dumb Greek dishwasher! Neptune was -discovered 900 years ago, aroun' 1830 ... and who in hell cares what -it's named ... excep' a Greek." Thurner staggered to his feet. Liquor -spilled. - -For a little man, Johnny Damokles was both fat and fast. One hand hit -the bar, he vaulted it, and faced Thurner. "What's for you cuss Greek? -She are good braves people...." - -"I told you to shut up," said Thurner. He planted a big hand in Johnny -Damokles' face and shoved. Johnny fell, and Thurner kicked him brutally -in the side. - -Then the room hit Thurner smack on the jaw. - -"Want some more?" asked Timmy. He stared down at the hulking pilot, as -Thurner rolled over and rubbed his face. "Want another?" Timmy repeated. - -The door opened, and the Director of Spaceport Operations stood framed -in its classic Callistonian marble columns. - -"I want the two of you in my office. Special job for T-Three." - -Timmy snapped to attention. T-3 was the one military department which -took immediate command of any pilot under any circumstances. Obedience -to T-3 was unquestioning and immediate. Even Thurner assumed a -semblance of military bearing and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. -He fell in beside Timmy and, scowling, followed the Director out. -Johnny Damokles watched them, wiping greasy glasses on a greasier apron -almost automatically. - -The Office of the Director of Operations, shared by the Port Captain, -had been designed in 2475 by Anton Sestrovic. - -Stars and planets moved silently across the ceiling in an endless -procession, while glowing dots, marking the positions of spaceships in -transit, crawled in well-defined lanes. Timmy shuffled his feet on the -carpet and waited for the Director to seat himself at his plexi-glass -desk. Thurner threw himself into a chair. - -"Well?" grunted the big pilot, "what's T-Three after now? The feathers -from an angel's backside?" - -The Director looked at him coldly, "No," he said. "Something a little -more dangerous to procure. Information is what they want." - -"Why in hell don't they ask the Greek in the bar? He knows everything! -Ask his side-kick here." - -Timmy flushed and knotted his fist. "You ask me ... later," he grunted. - -"I can't. I'm on the Jupiter run in an hour." - -"No," corrected the Director, "you're not on the Jupiter run. You're -heading for Neptune with Mister Gordon ... in his ship." - -"Why pick on me?" interrupted Timmy. "I'm not fussy about whom I share -space with ... but I just cleaned ship ... and I don't like this lug." - -"Sorry," said the Director. "Yours is the only ship in the Four Planets -fast enough to make the trip in time, but you're not licensed for -flight beyond Jupiter." - -"How about another pilot?" Timmy pulled no punches in letting the -Director know how he, personally, felt about Mr. Shelton Thurner. - -"I haven't another," the Director paused. "But you can take a third man -as super-cargo, Gordon. It might quiet down the Kilkenny-cat action." - -A slow smile rolled over Timmy's face. "Okay," he said. "I'll take -Johnny Damokles." - -Thurner leaped to his feet. "That dam' Greek dishwasher!" he exploded. -"What use is he in space?" - -"He can sing ... and read Aristotle in the original Greek ... whoever -Aristotle was." - -"Blast the whole job! I won't go!" - -"Yes you will, Thurner," said the Director. "Report to Gordon's ship in -half an hour ... or turn in your license." - -Thurner stomped out of the room. A slightly vulgar noise, issuing -through Timmy's pursed lips, was the last sound the big pilot heard. - - * * * * * - -"What's next?" asked Timmy. He turned to the Director as he spoke. -"What's it all about?" - -"See those dots on the space map?" The Director pointed ceilingward to -a spot where a cluster of red spots moved on a common center. - -"Yes." - -"This is a wild hunch. But I suspect them to be Neptunian ships ... -unlisted in our clearance papers." - -"You think they're a menace?" - -"Definitely!" - -"Why?" - -Instead of answering the question, the Director rose and walked across -the room to a row of hermetically sealed cases. Like the display units -in small and dusty museums, these held a few yellowed books, chunks of -unclassified rock, and an occasional fossil. But one of them was broken. - -"This case," said the Director, "once held an obscure book by a -Twentieth Century warlord. Know the period?" - -"I'm a mechanic," said Timmy. - -"Most of us are these days. It's something of a pity. But in the middle -Twentieth Century, historians tell us of a semi-civilized chieftain -named Hetlir, or Schicklegrub, who managed to control the mass of -Europa through an intelligent but utterly unscrupulous plan. The seeds -of that plan lie in a book called _Mein Kampst_ ... and this case once -held a copy." - -"I see," said Timmy, but he didn't. - -"Two years ago," continued the Director, "I entertained a leader of the -Neptunian Tsom clan. When he left, the book went with him." - -"How can a book affect us?" - -"Easily. Our only defense against the powerful semi-humans of Neptune -has been their own inability to organize any planetary unity. They -trade with us on a basis of toleration ... but they're not friends." - -"Why haven't they attacked before?" - -"Their clan system, and their wars at home." - -"I see," said Tim, and this time he really did. "Then, you figure that -if one clan could dominate Neptune, they'd strike?" - -"Yes. And Hetlir's plan calls for precisely the sort of planetary -organization that would suit the Neptunians. A master-race -dominates ... and on Neptune ... that master-race would probably be the -Tsom clan. _They_ have a copy of _Mein Kampst_." - -"You believe they've done it?" - -"I see no other reason why ships should hover near our Callistonian -frontier for five days." - -"Then, I'll go investigate in the _Solabor_." - -"Not the ships, Timmy. I want you to check on Neptune from the dark -side. Look for two things. Are there any Neptunian cruisers massing? -Have the planetary wars ended?" - -Timmy sprawled back in his chair. "The answers to those questions," he -said, "will tell us our next step." - -"Exactly." - -"I can leave in twenty minutes." - -"Then," said the Director, "hop to it son. And I hope good luck goes -with you." On the ceiling, the ominous dots seemed to grow more clear -as their new significance thrust itself on Timmy. He grasped the -Director's hand, shook it briefly, and walked out. - - * * * * * - -Downstairs, in the Space Bar, Johnny Damokles sweated over some -unsavory concoction, and swore in six planetary languages, plus old -Greek and a frenzied form of English. His apron strings hung loose, -three knives and a toasting fork peeked out of his pockets. - -"What's cookin'?" hailed Timmy. - -The little Greek turned around. "West'in on'let," he blurted. "An' this -dam' blast Callisto garlic ... she are not fit for cooking dog meat!" - -"A clear and sensible opinion," said Tim, "neatly expressed." He leaned -over the counter, tilted Johnny's frying pan to the floor, grabbed the -Greek's apron and whipped it loose. "Come on, chum," he said. "You've -just resigned." - -Johnny looked sadly at the mess on the floor. "What's a matter of you, -dam' idiot? Who are resigned?" - -"You did, Johnny. You're going out into space with me as cook ... and -I need somebody to prepare rat poison for my pilot." He stopped, and -watched Damokles' chin drop. "Come on," he repeated, "we're going -places." - -"Crazies places?" - -"Nope! Space." - -Johnny Damokles' face lighted up with something of the glow his -ancestors must have shown at Thermopylae and Salamis. "No kid? You -take me? Oh, Meester Timmy Gordon ... you is a dam sweet feller." His -cap went sailing skyward. His apron followed suit, and he grabbed a -twisted necktie from beneath the counter. "Hey, boy!" he shouted to an -open-mouthed waiter. "I is resigned. Tell her to the boss. Goom bye!" - -"Look--" the waiter began. - -"You look!" Timmy said, grinning. - -Johnny grabbed a handful of tattered books from under the counter, -picked up his toasting fork and knives, slapped a checkered cap on his -head and dashed for the door as Timmy burst out laughing. - -"Whassamatter, Meester Tims. You go crazies?" - -"Not me ... but you. Come on, Space-hawk. Let's hit the hangar." - - * * * * * - -Hangar 6, block 8, where Timmy kept the _Solabor_, was one of the -smaller impervium shanties built to accommodate just such independents -as himself. It lay at the end of the field, sheltered from the major -launching-cradle by a thick growth of scrub hedge. Timmy whistled as -he walked toward it, and Johnny Damokles picked up the tune. "Where we -go, Tim?" asked the Greek, and waved his fork in circles. "Maybe go -Jupiters?" - -"Nope. Can't tell you till we're aboard ship." The hangar lay just -ahead. The _Solabor_ was ready. Timmy grinned. - -And then he stopped. - -No, that statement is incorrect. _Timmy was stopped._ His feet dangled -stiffly in air, as steel-strong hands, powerful as an atomic lift, -closed hard on his throat ... and lifted. His shout of warning was a -muttered croak. Then the world faded away in a purplish-gray haze. The -only sensation as darkness fell was a refrigerant chill biting at his -neck. Blackness. - -[Illustration: _Steel-strong hands closed about Timmy's throat._] - -"Whassamatter, Timmy ... you no sing?" asked the little Greek. He -turned around. His chin dropped with an almost audible thud on his -chest. And then, Johnny Damokles moved forward, blindly, heroically, a -28th Century Leonidas armed with a toasting fork. - - - II - -Timmy Gordon awakened to find his immediate world in a chill of killing -frost. Cold water ran down his brow. Johnny Damokles' muttered curses -penetrated his consciousness. "What ... hap ... happened?" - -"Don't speaks ... you almost go for rides with Father Charon on one-way -ferryboat. Look!" Johnny turned Tim's head tenderly to one side, and -the young flyer gasped. - -"Great flying dragons!" - -Timmy's eyes traveled over the squat bulk of a figure clad from head -to foot in heavy synthi-leather. "A Neptunian," he blurted, "but dead. -How? Who did it?" - -"I did it ... with toastings fork!" - -"What?" Timmy's head went round in circles, "You killed one ton of -concentrated Neptunian-venom with a toasting fork?" - -"Sure things, boss. I stick heavy fellers with fork. He go hiss. Then -bad smells. Then fall down ... _woosh!_" Damokles gave a graphic -description in pantomime, and Timmy understood how this seeming miracle -had happened. A Neptunian, accustomed to a mass of seventeen times that -of Earth normal, a normal temperature at minus-180 Centigrade, and -a methane plus solid oxygen atmosphere, would need some insulating, -restricting suit to move about on frail Callisto. Apparently Johnny's -fork had struck a weak spot in the refrigerant-suit, and a mild -Callistonian climate had literally boiled the Neptunian to death. - -Timmy staggered to his feet and tramped through the artificial frost to -the Neptunian's side. A tiny mark, distinctive and simple, was branded -on his assailant's collar. "The Tsom clan," said Timmy to himself. "The -Director was right ... but why did he attack me in particular?" - -Johnny Damokles pointed, "Look!" he said. - -A bulky figure broke from the bushes and darted toward Hangar 6, but -in that darkness, it was unrecognizable. "Get him!" barked Timmy, and -raced down the path. - -The figure, whoever and whatever it was, had disappeared by the time -Timmy Gordon reached his ship. A quick inspection showed nothing in -the hangar, and he climbed aboard the _Solabor_. - -"About time you came," grumbled Shelton Thurner. He threw an empty -bottle through the door and climbed from his seat in the back of the -ship. "You ready to go?" - -Gordon disregarded the question. "You see anyone come down here?" - -"No. Been all alone." - -"A Neptunian attacked me back in the bushes. Look," he showed Thurner -the frost-bitten bruises on his throat. "Whoever set the Neptunian -on me came this way ... _fast_!" He moved forward, seized Thurner by -the shoulder, and laid his hand on the pilot's heavily-muscled chest. -If Thurner had been the man, speedy running would have resulted in -irregular breathing and heart-action. But the pilot's breathing was -calm and normal. With an angry snarl he seized Timmy's wrist and flung -him backward. - -"Keep your hands to yourself, Gordon!" Thurner hissed. - -"Sorry." Timmy's eyes squinted into slits, "I was just proving you -innocent ... to my own satisfaction." He turned, climbed out of the -ship, and hurriedly called the Director to report what had occurred. -"Shall I stay on," he asked, "and help investigate?" - -"No. We'll clean up the mess. Blast off as soon as possible, and get -back here sooner!" - -"QX, sir," said Tim, and hoisted himself aboard ship. "All set?" - -"Been ready for twenty minutes." - -"Yowsah, boss!" chimed Johnny Damokles. - - * * * * * - -There was utter silence, but in the midst of it, Callisto vanished. -Seconds later Jupiter's bulk faded redly from the sky to become a dot -silhouetted sunward. And all in silence. - -"Lord, man!" Thurner looked at Timmy with a hint of surprise veiling -his usual antagonism. "How in hell does this thing work?" - -"Search me," shrugged Timmy. "I worked it out on a sensitizing -principle. My impervium hull was supposed to reject light as a mirror -would, and so throw itself forward like a beam of light. The thing -works, too." - -"She sure do," chuckled the delighted Greek. He looked through the -sunward port and watched Jupiter diminishing. "Great Scotts!" he -yelled. "This ships are fast like Greek god, Mercury!" - -"And just as inexplicable." - -"Why, man?" asked Thurner, "You've told us how she worked." - -"You mean ... how I _thought_ she would work. Unfortunately, I tried -the same principle on more impervium ... and not another ship has flown -like this one. My math was wrong, but my mechanics worked. Just once." - -"So I'm supposed to operate a fluke to Neptune?" - -"Don't worry about it, Thurner. She's dependable and her controls are -exactly like those in an ordinary planetary-liner. Watch." Timmy threw -the wheel down, and the _Solabor_ tipped into a wide curve. Jupiter -vanished. Dotted pinpoints of stars prickled the black of inter-world -space. - -"Looks easy," grunted the pilot. He slipped over into the wheelman's -chair, and fiddled experimentally with gadgets. "Okay," he said, "after -four or five minutes I'll be able to handle her." - -"QX," said Timmy. "There's a copy of Maconachy's book on Supra-solar -Navigation behind you. Great book, Maconachy, wouldn't want to be in -space without it to lean on." Thurner grunted again. - -"Yeah. Good stuff for you practical astrogators. Put it over there in -reach. And listen...." Thurner's voice lost some of its begrudging -tone. "We're on this trip together. Let's make it peaceable." He -stretched out a broad paw, and Timmy shook. Thurner, for all his -slyness and for all the ease with which Tim had knocked him down back -there in the Space Bar, was a powerful man. Tim wondered why he hadn't -fought back. - -"All right!" he said, "We're together ... for the duration." - -"It's a bargain. Now ... tell me more about how she operates. This -ship's _actually faster_ than light?" - -"Yep! Warps across a light beam just the way a sailboat can exceed the -speed of wind on a certain tacks. Look back at the sun." - -Thurner turned his head. "I'll be damned. A Doppler effect!" - -"We're exceeding the speed of light ... right now!" - -"And you're sure this principle of yours won't work on any other ship. -Was there anything mixed with the impervium?" - -"Central labs checked it," Timmy replied. "It was pure impervium." - -"Where'd you get it?" - -"By _coincidence_ ... from Neptune." - -Thurner's face went red. "Look, guy," he said, "The war's off, and I -don't like being played for a fool. There's no impervium on Neptune." - -"Sorry, Thurner. This metal did come from Neptune. I bought the back -fin of the old XC-34 ... it was towed in from Nep back in '67." - -"I see." Thurner's brows knitted, and he muttered an apology. Then, -turning away, he ran through the logarithms in Maconachy, made a few -quick checks, shifted dials coolly and competently, and leaned back. -"I'll take her in from here," he said. - -"From the dark side," cautioned Tim. - -"Okay. I'll drive part way to Pluto ... then swing back." - -"QX," said Gordon. He spun about and walked to the back of the little -ship. "How do you like it, Johnny?" he asked, and Damokles' face -lighted up. - -"She's one dam' fine ship ... go like go-to-hell fireball ... but look -it here, Meester Timmy." - -"Yes?" - -"Why you say she won't work for any other ships?" - -"Just won't. That's all." - -"Maybe this planets Neptune do it." - -"How, Johnny? We tested the impervium from every angle, and found it -nothing but pure metal." - -"Maybe is so. Dam' gods, Neptune, are funny feller. Sometimes he look -like friend ... sometimes he are foe. Sometimes just do nothing ... but -plenty happen just because Neptune are there. See?" - -Tim whistled. "I see what you mean. Like a catalytic agent. You can't -detect it. You don't test it ... _but it does something_." - -"Who's the difference? Call her cataltickic agents ... call her fool -gods Neptune. What them hells!" The little Greek shrugged his shoulders -and was silent. - - * * * * * - -Up in the _Solabor's_ bow, later, Thurner spun the dials on the -automatic calculator. Timmy watched him idly, then, moving away from -the window, fell asleep. Johnny Damokles hummed an old tune, and -lost himself in reveries on Greece. It was strange that so intense a -national feeling could survive the melting pot of world assimilation. -Yet the Greek national feeling had survived unchanged for more than -three thousand years. The greasy old suit which Johnny Damokles wore, -remained almost unchanged from the 20th Century attire which his -ancestors had worn at Crete and in the long, bloody fight down through -the mountains from Olympus. Alone amongst all the people of the 28th -Century, the Greeks remembered their past glory, and the bloody history -which had split them as a nation, yet welded the iron of heroism into -their souls. - -Only the Greeks, in a world of mechanics and science, were still -concerned with events now dead and gone. Small nations may live ... in -tradition. - -Johnny Damokles let his gaze slowly fall from that wild pattern of -unvisited universes which spread before him in the _Solabor's_ -ports ... and slowly turned the pages of his beloved Aristotle. An -essay on the nature of the order of things caught his attention, but -reading was no pleasant occupation inside the _Solabor's_ stuffy little -cabin. Johnny's head nodded. His eyes fluttered. He fell asleep. - - * * * * * - -Timmy Gordon's return from slumber was rather like the awakening of a -city-dweller whose ear is annoyed by a sudden onslaught of silence. -Accustomed by now to the sensation of motion, immobility woke him up. - -"Stopped?" he yawned. "Why?" The cabin was dark, and in that velvety -obscuration, Timmy could barely see the recumbent sleeping form of -Johnny Damokles. He leaped to his feet. Strange, his body felt heavy, -leaden, drugged. - -A faint bluish light, barely enough to weaken the black of night, -pushed its way through the window. Timmy staggered forward to the -control bench. Shelton Thurner was gone! - -But where? How? Where were they? - -Timmy reached for the starting button to test his motors, but the -panel had been stripped. Bare. - -The answer came swiftly. To the accompaniment of a blast of noisome -gas, the door swung open. Two figures entered. The door thumped shut. - -"Thurner!" gasped Timmy. "But what? Where've you been?" His questions -were interrupted, sharply. Behind Shelton Thurner, and barely visible, -stood the hulking figure of a Neptunian. - -Thurner's hand shot out and clamped on Tim Gordon's arm, "Bow!" he -said. "You're on Neptune now ... you swine." - -Timmy's fist shot out with the speed of a striking cobra, and a solid -blow bounced off the renegade pilot's jaw. Nothing happened. Thurner -grinned. His evil gapped-teeth gleamed. He raised his hand and brought -it down with a flat _thwack_ on the young Earthman's cheek. Timmy felt -as though a sharpened file had hit him. Warm blood ran down his chin, -and dripped floorward. - -"Things are different now," said Thurner. "I don't have to take -anything from you pigs." He drew back his hand for a second blow, but -the figure behind him stepped forward. - -"No!" it ordered. "Not now. There'll be time ... yet." - -"What's all this?" snapped Timmy. - -Thurner smirked, "You're on Neptune ... and are ... shall we say ... a -guest of the Tsom Clan." - -"Distinctly," hissed the semi-human figure behind Thurner. "Oh most -distinctly ... a guest." - -"And this ... renegade?" - -"You allude to Shelton Thurner?" - -"Yes!" - -The Neptunian looked from Timmy to the big pilot. "I do not believe," -he said, "that you will understand this easily. But you do your late -associate an injustice. He is no renegade ... but a leader of the Tsom -Clan." - -"A Neptunian? Impossible!" - -"Not at all my dear sir. We Neptunians have science. Given the proper -materials, our surgeons can duplicate the ... rather ... loathesome -appearance of you humans." - -"You can make men out of a semi-human?" - -"We are adaptable, my dear sir." The creature's nictitating membrane -drew up over his eyeballs and gave him a deceptively sleepy appearance. - -"But what about the temperature? How could Thurner stand Callistonian -heat and gravity, when built for that of Neptune?" - -"Enough of this foolish questioning!" barked Thurner, "Take the fools -outside." - -The creature at his side raised a leather-clad hand in a peaceful, -gentle gesture. "Patience, friend," he said, "We owe our _guest_ much. -For he has much to give us." - -"I have!" blurted Timmy. - -"Yes!" the Neptunian's manner was calm and unruffled. "You, a skilled -practical mechanic, can contribute to a glorious Neptunian victory." - -"And you think I will?" - -"I know you will. No human-being has the nerve structure to stand up -under our harsher persuasive methods. It is quite important for us to -learn your method of treating impervium for these faster-than-light -ships." - -"But my method doesn't work." - -"That's true," interjected Thurner. "We talked about it on the way out." - -"Most regrettable!" Again that unpleasant, half-dead membrane flashed -across the Neptunian's eyes. He seemed to sleep. Minutes passed before -he looked up again. "In that event," he said, "you must suffer for -the good of Neptune. Follow me." He waited while Timmy climbed into a -heated, anti-gravitational space suit. - -Thurner cuffed Johnny Damokles to his feet and motioned for him to -put on a space suit. Then completely in command of the situation, the -Neptunians led Tim and Johnny out into the blue cold of a monster and -horrible world. They paused long enough for Thurner and his companion -to remove the space suits they'd worn in the heated cabin of the -_Solabor_, and when Thurner seemed to peel his very skin from his -body, Timmy understood the miracle by which the pilot had posed as a -Callistonian. - - - III - -The pilot was actually a Neptunian. But a beautifully made synthetic -skin served him as an undetectable protection against both heat and -gravity ... made him, to all appearances, an Inner-Worldian. Timmy was -amazed. These Neptunians were _surgeons_ ... and thermal engineers. - -"This way," motioned the Neptunian, and drew in a vast breath of -Neptune's methane atmosphere. His chest swelled until its minute scales -seemed on the verge of separating. Man-like in height and size, his -adaptation to a terrible gravity had made him a creature of steel-hard -sinew and muscle. Thurner, or whatever his proper name might be, was -almost as solid and several inches taller. No wonder he could consume -Callistonian whisky by the quart and still navigate a ship successfully. - -They walked across the plain, dropped downward into a slit-like canyon. -Ahead of them lay a fortress whose only decoration was the simple -symbol of the Tsom clan. Its walls bristled with blast guns, but closer -examination showed Timmy that they were all of an obsolete pattern. -Methane had clogged their rifling and made them utterly useless. - -"These aren't used," said their guide. "Just there to frighten away -lower forms of life. Watch!" He flicked a switch, and the wall's outer -surface raised to reveal a vast network of grids. "Heat grids," he -explained. "Perfect defense against the other clans." - -"But we don't need defence," added Thurner. "Neptune is a united planet -now." - -The gates swung wide, and Timmy, with an empty feeling, walked in. -Johnny Damokles followed. His antiquarian interests still shielding him -from the horror of their situation. - -The council chamber, holy-of-holies, audience room, or whatever the -Neptunians called it, was perhaps the most impressive place either -Timmy Gordon or Johnny Damokles had ever entered. - -Black rock lined the walls and seemed one with the primeval essence of -absolute cold. Atmosphere, at 17 G's, pressed hard against them, barely -repelled by their space suits. The Neptunian turned. "If this," he -said, "were a nightmare, I'd order you to kneel and worship at the feet -of the Clan Tsom's god." - -"Why not?" Timmy's belligerent Irish chin thrust out. - -"Because, my dear guests, we have advanced considerably beyond such -idle superstitions. Neptune, and the Tsoms, are the perfection of true -civilization. We _know_ there are no gods. We are neither concerned -with ritual nor rank. Here, all are equal, under my _leadership_." - -"Interesting," commented Timmy. "I seem to have heard it before." - -Johnny Damokles nodded. "She are wonderfuls idea ... but gods is dam' -important fellers. So is old time's history." - -The Neptunian looked at him. "What," he asked Thurner, "is this? Some -primitive?" - -"A Greek," the pilot explained. "Sticks to the old beliefs and the old -ways of Terra." - -Those nictitating lids nicked up. "Then ... he's of no use to us." - -"He'll do for raw material." Thurner shoved the little Greek to the -floor, "Use him for Extract 47-a. Humanizing fluid." - -The Neptunian shuddered. "The thought," he said, "of treating another -of our people with that semi-humanizing element is repulsive. But -sacrifice in the interest of conquest is needed. We must have more -Neptunians capable of resisting higher temperatures and lower -gravities." - -Thurner grinned. "Precisely," he said. He turned to Timmy, and judged -him as a man might judge a Percheron stallion. "This one is too lean." - -The Leader nodded. "Our dear guest will be of use in research and -mechanics. We might even grant him certain liberties." - -Timmy glared at the monster, hating that assumed tolerance, then spat -with deliberation on the floor. "Try to use me," he grunted. - - * * * * * - -"_A challenge?_" The Leader pressed a button. A bell rang, and two -squat Neptunians glided into the chamber. There was a burble and a -hissed command. The Neptunians retreated, then returned dragging a -small box behind them. Its wires were a tangle maze of tentacles. -Icy cold exuded from it, to chill the two Callistonians even through -their heavily-heated space suits. The Leader barked an order. Timmy -found himself flat on his back with a Neptunian servant pressing -the face-plate of his suit down hard. There was a little whirl of -power. Agonies unimaginable shot through every nerve of his skull. He -screamed. Restraint was impossible. The pain eased. - -"You see!" said the Neptunian, "that treatment does no harm to nerves -or tissues, and actually prolongs life." - -Timmy looked past the grinning faces of his tormenters and fixed his -glare on the reptilian Leader. "Try again," he said. "I'm still tough." - -The pain came back. It spun through skull and brain like a biting -buzz-saw. Timmy gritted his teeth, then again came the inevitable -scream. He wanted to faint. He prayed for death. But that buzzing pain -was an elixir ... a stimulating and eternal torment. Timmy's hands -thumped hard against the floor. His feet jerked, his spine arched, and -he screamed again and again in a great crescendo. The pain eased. - -"Could you stand that," said the grinning Neptunian, "for a lifetime?" - -"_No!_" - -"Then I warn you, the next time we apply it, you'll be alone in a dark -room ... with a time clock on the door set for a one-week period. No -one will enter. No one can stop the _treatment_. Will you cooperate?" - -"Within limits." - -"That's for me to judge. Give me the figures on how you managed to -create that ship of yours." - -"That's agreeable. You could take them anyhow." Timmy reached into a -pocket of his space suit. He pulled out a bundle of papers and handed -them to the Leader. "I warn you," he added, "they won't work." Then he -swore at himself for saying that. If, by ingenuity, he could manage to -convince the Neptunians that his ship would work, he might waste a lot -of their time in research and give the Inner Worlds time to find out -what was happening. "I might manage to make one work at that," he added -swiftly. - -The Neptunian scanned the papers. "No," he said, "this report of your -scientific laboratories is definitely conclusive. I can see that you've -done everything possible. The ship you have, or _had_, is a freak. But -you're an expert in mechanics and photography. We'll put you in the -research labs. Your friend can go with you until we need him." - -The Neptunian cast one final look at the two captives, smiled, and -walked away. Thurner jerked his head at an inner door. "Come on," he -ordered. "Your quarters will be near the labs." He led them down a -succession of corridors to a room where temperature and gravity stood -at Earth-norm, and Callisto constant. "You can do without those suits," -he said, and shut the door. - -Timmy and Damokles looked around. The room was lighted quite brightly. -A window gave onto the plain. Above them, Triton whirled its endless -mad dance, speeding across the sky in the opposite direction of the -planet's rotation. Timmy watched it. Here and there in the dark sky, -synthetic power-moons hovered to steal energy from the cosmos. - -"They gonna feed us, anyhows," said Johnny Damokles, and turned on the -faucet of a food conveyor. Hot, spicy-scented edibles poured forth, -but Timmy wasn't interested. Not far from them, half-lost in the gray -light, two giant semi-globes towered heavenwards. Tim stared at them. -Apparently the Neptunians were building another power-moon to add to -that whirling band above. He watched as squat figures moved up and -down its side, then walked from the window in a fog. Damokles tried to -engage him in conversation, but Timmy was too defeated. He fell asleep. - - * * * * * - -Morning dawned swiftly because of the giant planet's rapid rotation. -Seven hours of total blackness were then followed by a _day_ ... but -a day in name only. The sun out here had only one one-thousandth of -its Earthian strength. For human purposes, it was useless. Timmy was -standing by the window when the door swung open. Thurner stood on the -threshold. - -"Come on," he ordered, "your job is ready." He looked at Johnny -Damokles. "Might as well use you, too. Get into your space suit." The -little Greek obeyed. - -The next seven hours passed as a nightmare for Timmy. For Johnny, -working outside as a slave on the power-moon, they must have been pure -hell. - -Timmy returned to their room that evening to find a tired little Greek -sprawled on the couch. "Work you hard, chum?" - -Damokles groaned. A livid weal ran down the side of his face, where a -blow had slammed his head about in his helmet. "We get these Neptune -bums ... Timmy," he said. - -"Sure thing, pal. But how?" - -The Greek shrugged his shoulders. "They guards you close?" - -"No ... but we couldn't get away without the ship." - -"Yeah." Damokles' chin dropped on his chest. "I guess we gives up." -But despite the Greek's apparent despair, he had an idea of some sort. -Timmy Gordon knew it, but he also knew that Johnny was afraid to talk -about it in a room where sound detectors might pick up any hint of -escape. "Let's go to sleep, Johnny," he said. - -"Yeah ... you stay your side of bed, too. Last night you kick me blacks -and blue in rib." - -Which was distinctly untrue. - -But if that was the way Johnny wanted things ... it was distinctly QX -with Timmy Gordon. He stretched himself on the narrow couch beside -Johnny. For twenty minutes he seemed to doze, then began kicking about -fretfully, and muttering as though in the clutch of a nightmare. - -"That's right, Timmy," the little Greek whispered. "Keep her going. You -kicks hard ... yells ... them spies are too busy watching you. I can -talks." - -Timmy's reply was another boot to Johnny's shin. "Go on," he whispered, -then kicked again. - -"Remember what I say to you in ships?" - -"About what?" - -"About fool gods Neptune ... cataltickic agents ... Aristotle." - -"Yes." - -"Maybe I are right." - -"So what?" - -"Maybe if impervium get soaked on Neptune long enough ... then maybes -it behave like metal in your ship?" - -"Go on." Timmy groaned, thrashed about. Threw a fist that thudded into -Johnny's ribs. The Greek grunted, and resumed his whispering. - -"They puts me working on power-moons outside." - -"Yes?" - -"She are mades from metal of wrecked space-liner. I see one plate who -say XC-34 on her." - -"Great Jupiter, Johnny! That's the liner I got the metal for my ship -from ... just one fin was all I had to work with." - -"Shut up! Dam' fools. Want him Neptune stinkers hear you?" - -Instead of answering, Timmy grunted in his supposed sleep. Damokles -whispered on: "They don't guards me! They make me be dam' fool clowns -for Neptuners to laugh at. 'Get sky hook! Get bucket steam-ice!' That's -what them lizards-men holler at me." - -"Yes?" - -"Then ... _cracks_! Hit Greek with fist. Don't like." - -"Skip it, Johnny. What's your idea?" - -"I hear them say ... artificial power moon ain't gonna be that at -all. Gonna be giant bomb. Gonna load with tons an' tons an' tons of -_dynotron_. Shoot him to Jupiter ... blow all air off everythings!" - -"Good lord! Dynotron would do just that ... and then they'll repeat the -procedure." - -"Is right! I hear lizard-pig say just that!" - -"How do you figure on stopping 'em, Johnny?" - -Damokles wriggled, poked Timmy hard with his elbow. "Lay still!" he -shouted. "I can no sleeps!" He butted up against Timmy, and began to -whisper in fast chaotic broken murmurs. "I got a long story to tells -you, Timmy. All about powerful old Greeks' king." - -For half an hour they trashed about, while Damokles unfolded his plan. -At last, Timmy grunted. "QX," he said. "Can do!" He rolled over and -fell into an extremely troubled sleep. - - - IV - -The next day, at Neptune's dawn, Johnny Damokles was led back to his -work on the _dynotron_ bomb. Timmy, sleepy-eyed and wavering, followed -his captors to a place in the mech lab. He worked quietly for half an -hour, then beckoned to his overseer. - -"Yes?" hissed the Neptunian. - -"I want to see your leader." - -"Why?" - -"None of your blasted business. Just do what you're told, or be mighty -blasted sorry." - -The Neptunian scratched an itching neck flange. "All right," he said, -"but you'd better have something to make this worth while." He shoved -Timmy forward, released a door catch, and led him down the hall. -Three staccato raps opened another door, and Timmy again stood in the -presence of Neptune's Leader. - -"Yes?" the Leader's voice was suave, but flat. "Oh, it's you ... you've -something important?" - -"I want to work in the photo-lab." - -"Something to do with your way of sensitizing impervium?" - -"That's right." - -"Utterly useless. We've checked the figures of your own labs and find -that they are completely accurate. That ship of yours is a freak ... -and we can see no reason as to _why_ it works." - -"I still have an idea." - -The Neptunian glared at him, and again that dead-alive membrane -concealed all key to his thoughts. "You're not trying to convince me -you're willing to join us, are you?" - -"Nope," Timmy's Irish jaw shot out belligerently, "I just figure it'll -be easy to escape from there." - -A hiss was apparently the Outer-worldian's manner of laughing, for the -hiss he emitted was as jovial a sound as Timmy had heard since landing -on the planet. "I mean it!" Timmy finished, "and I warn you to watch -me." - -"Your spirit," the Neptune said, "is admirable." He scrawled a few -notes, handed them to Timmy. "Here," he said, "is an order to work in -the photo-labs. I shall watch your struggles with great pleasure." His -hand closed on Timmy's shoulder and Timmy gritted his teeth, shook his -way loose, and walked to the door. - -Mockingly, the Leader laughed. - - * * * * * - -That night, when Timmy returned to their room, he found the little -Greek seated, eyes blazing, on the bed. "S'matter, chum?" - -"Dam-blasted Shelton Thurner ... chase me all over hell for sky-hook. -Don't like it!" - -"Forget it. You're tired and so am I. Grab off a mouthful of that -synthi-food and let's hit the hay." He turned on the faucet, drew a cup -of steaming brew and handed it to the Greek. - -"I got the mixture," he whispered between gulps. "Did you get the -metal?" The Greek nodded. "Yep," he replied, then in a louder tone. -"Let's get to bed, Timmy." - -Lights were quickly extinguished, and the two, with much moaning and -groaning, crawled under the covers. But tonight there was need for -action, not talk. Timmy pushed the blankets up to make a low tent, and -handed Johnny a torch he'd stolen. Improvised though it was, their bed -made a flawless, light-tight darkroom. Timmy climbed out to make sure -no ray escaped, then plunged into bed again. - -"The metal!" he grunted. Johnny Damokles handed him a tiny piece of -impervium. It was, approximately, three inches square. - -"Swell," said Tim. "Now hold this light." He dug deep into his pockets -and pulled forth a bottle of stolen liquid. "As nearly as I can tell, -this is the same mixture I used in making my other ship." He dipped the -square of impervium in it, then waited. Dry at last, he wiped the metal -square until it shone, and grinned as the first reactions started. -"It works!" he nearly shouted. But that was neither the time nor the -place for shouting. "Watch!" he whispered. Taking the torch from Johnny -Damokles, he held it close against his treated impervium. The little -square darted away so swiftly that it nearly tore loose from his hand. -It did pull him a foot or so toward the edge of the bed before he -switched off his light. There was no doubt about it. Impervium, when -exposed to some unknown Neptunian radiation, underwent an untestable -change and behaved precisely as had the metal of his ship. - -"Hallelujahs!" burbled Damokles beneath his breath. "Now we fix up dam' -fool Shelton Thurners." - -"Maybe?" said Tim with unexpected pessimism. "I've stolen enough fluid -for feet on that dam' bomb." He paused, "Are you sure the whole thing's -impervium?" - -"Yep! But how I gonna rub this stuff on ship?" - -"Don't rub it. Pour this bottle on a high perpendicular point and let -it run down the sides. We'll take a chance that the dim light here on -Nep will prevent our process from knocking your bomb over ahead of -time." - -"Yeah. Then you get more solutions. We pour her on ... an' dam' bomb go -sail away fast as hell!" - -Timmy grinned. "Not quite, pal," he said, "I'm figuring on something -just a little more effective." He took a piece of paper and made a few -hasty sketches. Johnny Damokles watched with interest. Then he broke -into a smile. - -"I see," nodded the Greek. "She are just like story I tell you about -old Greek king." - -"Exactly.... And now, let me have time enough to get rid of our scrap -of test metal and we'll turn in." - -"No," protested Damokles. "Give me this piece impervium. I got good -idea. Secret." - -Timmy, without further question, handed Johnny the bit of treated -impervium and added to it his bottle of stolen liquid. "Good night, -chum," he mumbled, and rolled over to sleep. - - * * * * * - -Ten days and ten nights passed in that way. Each night Timmy had -another flask of his sensitizer to give Johnny. And each night Damokles -reported another successful application of the fluid. Miraculous that -the two of them could so successfully hoodwink their captors? Yes. -But then the Neptunians thought of the two as members of a lesser -race, and gave them almost complete freedom of movement ... within -limits. Timmy blessed the arrogance from which this stemmed. From the -photo-labs he stole his sensitizer. In the mech labs he succeeded in -removing and assembling certain vital cogs and rheostats. Put together -they would give him control of Neptune's gigantic _dynotron_ bomb. And -Timmy Gordon was the man to put any machinery together. He did it on -the tenth day. That same day, he stole a length of steel chain and a -sharpened metal hook. Why he stole them, Timmy Gordon didn't know. But -Damokles had asked him to, and he'd given his promise. - -"Here you are," he said when he reached their room that night. He -slipped the hook and chain to Johnny beneath the covers of their bed. -"Goin' fishin' with it, chum?" - -"You bet your dam' boots. I catch fat fish, too." - -Timmy smiled. Then, quietly, he showed Johnny Damokles the piece of -apparatus he'd constructed. It looked somewhat like the primitive -20th Century radio sets one saw in museums, but its purpose, as Tim -explained, was more important. Compact, weighing no more than fifty or -sixty grams, it gave him complete radio control of anything treated -with his sensitizing fluid. What was more important, it took its power -from almost any faint source of light, and should be effective up to -two or three thousand miles. - -"She work?" asked Damokles. - -"She will if static doesn't cut me out too much." - -"Dam' good," grunted the Greek. "Now we show them dam-blast Neptuners -what good Old Greek History are." - -"Correct, chum. When will the bomb be ready?" - -"She are ready now." - -"Swell! I might as well blast her off." - -"No!" Johnny Damokles' tone was urgent, pleading. "You wait ... do him -tomorrow when Neptune fellers can see." - -Morning dawned with its usual dim lessening of the Neptunian murk. -A methane breeze rolled down from some distant mountain range and -swirled in noxious vapors across the plain. Two Neptunian guardsmen -saw a flicker of movement in a nearby sandheap and cut loose with the -fullest fury of their heat-grids. There was a crackle. An unassimilated -tribesman rolled over, kicked a spurred foot in the air, arched his -haunches and died. - -The little tragedy, repeated time and again on that ruthless planet, -was no more than window-dressing for more significant events. The -crackling, burning grids were crackling arcs of doom. Like Gabriel's -trumpet, they served to awaken Tim and Johnny Damokles. - -"What's dam' noise?" grunted the Greek. - -"Target practice." Timmy was about to deliver further comments, but a -rap at the door cut him loose. "Come in!" he barked. The door opened. -The Leader entered. - -"Ahhhh. Good morning, my dear guests." He rubbed his hands in a gesture -that grated scales together. "We've a special _treat_ for you this -morning. And perhaps, since you've displayed certain interests in -_history_, you'd enjoy sharing in the history of the future." - -"Would we?" queried Timmy. - -"Belligerence is an ill-fitting trait of yours, Mister Gordon," said -the Neptunian. "An inadequate one, I'll add." - -"We're wasting time," interrupted Tim. "Get on with it!" - -"Impetuous? You've a right to be. Get into your space suits and come -outside. We're launching a special present for the Jovian System ... -and feel that you gentlemen would enjoy it." - -"I know," muttered Timmy. - -"Of course, you do." The Leader was grinning as he spoke. "We've given -your companion full opportunity to tell you about it. But come -along ... unless you prefer a few rather ... delicate ... adjustments -of the nervous system." - -Johnny Damokles laughed. But beyond that, neither he nor Tim had -anything further to say. They climbed into their space clothes and -followed the Leader out into the Neptunian twilight. - - - V - -In a natural amphitheater, walled in at one side by the cliff of the -ravine and sheltered from the methane wind by the parapets of the Tsom -fortress, stood the gigantic Neptunian bomb. Its impervium walls glowed -with a faint, cold light. Regularly, down its sides from ten points, -uneven streaks marked the course of Timmy's sensitizing fluid. Their -exact placement was coincidentally fortunate. Each served to counteract -the other, though the inward pressure they exerted must have been -tremendous indeed. - -The Leader was laughing in a repulsively reptilian way as he ascended -his rostrum. Timmy and Damokles followed. "Observe," said the Leader, -"the ingenious controls by which I guide the rocket-blasts from this -remote station." He pointed to his control board, motioned Timmy and -Johnny to stay away from it, and chuckled as they obeyed. Then, for a -full hour, he delivered an impassioned and almost insane address to his -followers. - -As near as Timmy could judge, the Leader's address was a skilful bit of -vituperation against the injustices done Neptune. But it was effective. -A frenzied circle of lizard-men howled as he finished speaking. "And -now," said the Leader, "we send our little present on his way." - -He reached for the control board. The bomb shot heavenward. - -Yes, it shot heavenward. - -But the Leader _hadn't touched_ the controls. - -Timmy's fingers anticipated him. A flick on his own secret control -board had shot the bomb silently out toward the void. The Leader's -finger froze in mid-air. His jaw dropped. He followed the bomb in its -flight, and every muscle tightened, when it stopped dead at a point -half a mile above Neptune. There the bomb hovered, unmoving. Its orbit, -if an orbit you could call it, held it exactly above the center of the -Tsom fortress. The Leader's finger jammed down on his control button. - -Flames blasted from the bomb's jets. It whirled crazily on its own -axis ... but was otherwise immovable. - -"Interesting, isn't it?" said Timmy mockingly. - - * * * * * - -The Leader looked at him. "You've done this?" His tone was most -incredulous. He darted toward Timmy. - -"Don't move," ordered the Earthman. He flicked a button and the great -bomb dropped silently. The Leader stopped. There was utter silence as -every creature in the amphitheater realized what was happening. - -"Well," said the Leader at last, "it's an impasse, isn't it." - -"No ... it's check ... and check-mate." - -"Yes," chuckled Johnny Damokles, "she are old Greeks' gambit." - - * * * * * - -The Leader darted back to his control board. Again and again he shot -every ounce of power into the bomb's blasts. Nothing happened. It spun -about at that same tantalizing half-mile above their heads. - -"Most ingenius," said the Leader. "You falsified those papers on how -your principle worked?" - -"Believe that if you want," said Timmy with a shrug. "And now ... I'm -taking over." - -The Leader bowed. - -But Johnny Damokles stepped into the picture. - -"I take over first," he said. "I gots present for dam' blast Shelton -Thurner." He leaned over the front of the rostrum and caught the -big Neptunian spy by the coat collar. Timmy, guarding against any -treacherous assault, kept his eyes on the Leader and the bomb. - -"Holla, Meester Shelton Thurner," greeted the Greek, "You ask Johnny -Damokles dam' fool question. You want sky-hook? Good! I gots sky-hook." -From a capacious pocket of his space britches he drew a hook and a -dangling length of chain. He tightened the collar and jabbed the hook -through it. "Goombye, Meester No-goods!" he chortled. He jerked the -rest of the chain from his pocket. A few scraps of treated impervium -were hitched to its end. Light hit them. They shot aloft, dragging -Thurner behind them like the tail of a crazy kite, and dangled high -above the plain. - -"How you like sky-hooks?" yelled the Greek. - -Timmy laughed. - -"I regret," said the Leader in a suavely courteous tone, "the loss of -an aide. But tell me, how did you evolve this ingenious plan? Am I -over-inquisitive?" - -"The plan ... belongs to Johnny Damokles." - -"Sure Mikes!" blurted the Greek. "She are old Greeks' story. You tell -her, Timmy. My talk all mixed with sky-hooks!" - -Timmy fingered his control board. "Long ago," he said, "a Greek king -acquired excessive power through force. As a symbol of that force ... -a sword dangled always above his head. By a hair. The king's name ... -like that of my friend ... was Damocles. They call the story, _The -Sword of Damocles_." - -Above their heads hovered that menacing ball of _dynotron_, enough to -blast all life from Neptune. The Neptunian leader watched it. - -"I believe ... that I understand." He turned away, then swung back -again. "One must accept facts intelligently. Visiphone your Terrestian -diplomats. Neptune will accept any reasonable terms." - -Overhead, the sword of Johnny Damokles glowed faintly. - -"The Greeks," Johnny Damokles said softly to nobody in particular, -"have a word for it. _Freedom!_" He smiled. "Let'sa call home, Tims. -I'm cold!" - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sword of Johnny Damokles, by -Hugh Frazier Parker - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SWORD OF JOHNNY DAMOKLES *** - -***** This file should be named 62323.txt or 62323.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/3/2/62323/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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