Secret Police
John Thorn perceived that the approaching Saturnians were slith-hunters. They were a rough-looking crew, wearing stained leather and carrying heavy atom-guns. In their lead was a hulking man of middle age who hailed the Planeteers in a bull voice.
"What luck, friends?” he called jovially. “I see you've got a few sliths, at least."
"A few is right,” John Thorn answered ruefully. “We've been roaming the fungi for days, and these are the first teeth we've got."
Thorn was careful to speak with the heavy Saturnian accent. The language of all the system's peoples is the same, since all are descended from the original colonizing Earth stock. But each world has developed its characteristic accent.
Sual Av and Gunner Welk had risen to their feet. They stood, casually wiping the gray blood of the slain sliths from their leather jackets as the Saturnians came up.
"I'm Kribo,” announced the hulking leader of the newcomers in his bull voice. “I thought I knew all the hunters in these parts, but you lads are new."
Thorn nodded. “We came down here from Karies, figuring the hunting might be better here. Instead, it's worse."
Kribo nodded his big head in emphatic agreement. “Aye, it's getting so a hunter can't make a living in these parts,” he boomed. “Too near Saturnopolis, I guess."
He slapped a bulging pouch at his belt. “Anyway, we've made a fair haul of teeth and we're on our way back to Saturnopolis. Wanta lift in our rocket-plane?"
John Thorn's pulses leaped at the offer. Here was a quick way to get into the Saturnian capital in company that would nullify, suspicion. But he frowned doubtfully, and looked questioningly at the other two Planeteers beside him.
"What about it?” he asked them. “Shall we pull out of these forests with what few teeth we have?"
"I say yes,” growled Gunner Welk disgustedly, in Saturnian accents. “This section isn't as good hunting as where we came from."
Sual Av nodded his agreement. “I want to see a few lights and get a few drinks, after two weeks like we've had."
"Ho, ho!” guffawed the hulking Kribo. “Don't be so down-hearted about your bad luck, lads. It'll change soon, sure."
The disguised Planeteers trudged through the towering fungi with their new-found friends. Thorn and his two comrades had to exert all their strength to keep from showing the dragging, leaden effect of the Saturnian gravitation upon them.
The wan, sickly day of Saturn had come. The little, far-off disk of the sun was rising rapidly to cast its thin, feeble rays upon the looming gray fungi and spongy gray mosses. Across the dusky sky, the incredible arc of the rings soared stupendously. The usual cold morning rain was dripping from the mists by the time they reached the rocket-plane.
Kribo's vehicle proved an ancient, battered one whose glassite windows were cracked and whose inertrum power-chamber had been strained, and crudely reinforced with chromaloy bands.
As they piled into the tubular body, Thorn hoped fervently that that power-chamber would not choose to let go at this particular time.
Kribo started the antique machine, and it lurched crazily up from the fungus forest into the rainy mists. The Saturnian turned to Thorn with a large, ostentatious air.
"I suppose you're wondering where a slith-hunter got money enough to buy a fine rocket-plane like this,” he boomed to Thorn over the irregular roar of defective tubes. “The fact is that me and my boys here own it together."
"It's a fine machine,” Thorn said admiringly. “I always hoped to own one. But times are hard for a hunter."
"Aye, and getting harder,” growled the hulking Saturnian. “Since this war-scare cut off all trade with the inner worlds, the price of teeth has gone down almost to nothing. When the war really starts, our market will be gone altogether."
A youthful Saturnian behind them spoke up, his face flushed with patriotic ardor.
"You forget, Kribe, that once we have conquered the Inner Alliance and have access to the rich resources of those worlds, we'll all be prosperous. The Chairman has said so, hasn't he? And the Chairman is always right."
"Oh, sure, the Chairman is always right,” hastily boomed Kribo, with a doubtful glance at the Planeteers.
It was the slogan of the four League worlds, Thorn knew, the formula that Haskell Trask, the dictator, had impressed almost hypnotically upon his followers. Everyone in the rocketplane, to show his patriotism, hastened to repeat it.
"The Chairman is always right,” they chorused together, the Planeteers joining in.
Sual Av choked over a sneeze that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, and Thorn shot the disguised Venusian a furious glance.
Thorn guessed after a little while that they were approaching Saturnopolis. The city was not yet visible through the misty rain, but below them now lay vast cultivated groves of the queer fungus-fruits developed on this world. Many workers could be seen down there, toiling and plodding through the cold, dripping rain.
Saturnopolis came into sight, low on the distant horizon ahead. Underneath the dusky daylight sky, framed by the colossal shining arch of the rings, the metropolis showed as a great mass of low black structures. A square, terraced black fortress rose near the center of the city, vague and distant in the mists.
John Thorn's hands clenched as he glimpsed, miles north of the capital, the huge expanse of an enormous spaceport. He could make out rows of hundreds on hundreds of battle cruisers parked there, and others landing or taking off. That hive of swarming activity, he knew, was the main base at which most of the ships of the League navies were gathering for the coming attack on the Alliance.
Kribo had followed Thorn's intent gaze. The booming voice of the hunter startled the disguised young Earthman.
"They say any rocket-plane that flies within five miles of that spaceport is gunned down,” Kribo declared. “I always give the place a wide berth."
Thorn nodded. For the moment, as he stared at the gathering armada that was intended to carry conquest and destruction to the inner worlds, he could not trust himself to speak.
"Here we are,” boomed Kribo a few minutes later. He added proudly, “It didn't take long in this machine, did it?"
Their rocket-plane was gliding down over the flat, black roofs of the city. They poised in the rainy mist, edged into a descent-level, and presently came down on a parking-roof.
Kribo turned genially to Thorn and his comrades as the party of slith hunters emerged from the battered machine.
"You three lads come along with us to Mother Bombey's place,” he boomed. “It's our favorite drinking spot here."
"Sorry, we can't,” Thorn told him. “We're out of money, and these few teeth we have won't bring more than enough to pay our way back to Karies."
"Who said you would need money?” demanded Kribo indignantly. “I'm paying for everything, lads. I know what it is to come back from a hard trip with only a handful of teeth."
Thorn thought rapidly. He had a plan for seeking Lana, but could not try it until night came. The Planeteers would be safer if they stayed off the streets in the meantime.
"All right, we're your men if you're paying,” he told Kribo with a grin, as they descended to the street.
Saturnopolis looked a dreary place in the sickly daylight beneath the falling rain. The cold mists that fogged its streets were bone-chilling. Through the streets roared rocketcars, and the pedestrian-walks were crowded with the Saturnian populace, and with hordes of officers and men of the four League navies. The four circle emblem of the League was showing everywhere, and it was clearly evident that Haskell Trask had whipped the people to war-fever.
Far away, across the city, there rose from the ruck of low, black cement buildings the huge, terraced square pile that dominated everything. It had been built two centuries before, as the seat of the Saturnian government. Now, Thorn knew, it was the guarded citadel in which the ruthless dictator of the League of Cold Worlds lived and worked and wove his plans of conquest.
Sual Av and Gunner Welk pressed close beside Thorn as the noisy hunters pushed through the crowded streets.
The Mercurian, glancing at the distant, frowning pile, spoke guardedly in deep undertones.
"The girl will be in that fortress, John. And I still don't see how we can, hope even to get in there."
"We'll get in,” Thorn muttered with grim determination. “I've been here before, and I have a plan."
"It'll have to be damned good to get us past the net of secret police around that place,” whispered Gunner. Thorn's eyes clung with fierce intensity to the looming, mist-vague fortress. Somewhere behind those forbidding walls was the pirate girl who was the focus of all his thoughts. What tortures were Haskell Trask and his fat spymaster using upon her to make her reveal the secret of Erebus?
"Here we are!” boomed Kribo, stopping in a dingy cross-street. He pushed through a door, the others following.
Thorn perceived that Mother Bornbey's was a shabby rendezvous, with a drinking-counter, tables, and a few “happiness vibration” booths. Krypton lamps lit the place, a few “glowers” dispelled the chill, and it was more than crowded with rough slith hunters.
"Welcome, Kribo!” roared a dozen voices. “What luck this time?"
"Fair, boys, fair,” answered the hulking hunter complacently. He turned. “Meet some lads from up in Karies."
He pointed to the disguised Planeteers, introducing them to the crowd by the false names that Thorn had given him.
A hard-faced, ample-figured old Saturnian hag reached over the drinking-counter with an outstretched hand.
"Pass over the guns, Kribo,” she, ordered harshly.
"This is Mother Bombey,” Kribo told Thorn with a grin. “She makes us check our guns when we come in, so that our little arguments won't wreck the place."
Thorn made no objection to handing over the heavy atom-guns, for he and Sual Av and Gunner Welk retained their atom pistols inside their jackets.
"Drinks or vibrations for everybody!” ordered Kribo, slapping down a platinum coin with a lordly gesture.
Thorn ordered fungus wine, which he knew was the Saturnian favorite. Sual Av and Gunner Welk followed his lead.
"Here's better times and plenty teeth for every hunter!” proposed Kribo, quaffing the pale liquor.
John Thorn could not help liking the hulking hunter. He sensed that here was a representative of the real population of the League worlds, hardworking, fundamentally decent people all, when not whipped up to war fever by an ambitious dictator's inflammatory lies.
* * *
Two hours went past in the crowded, noisy place. Thorn had been forced to swallow more of the musty, powerful fungus wine than he wanted, and he was glad when night fell outside, for Kribo was a little drunk and was giving him a candid opinion of the political situation. And a thin faced Saturnian nearly seemed to be listening.
"The Chairman keeps saying we've got to arm to the teeth and take territory from the inner worlds because we're poor,” Kribo declared. “But it seems to me we're poor because we spend everything on this big fleet of battle-cruisers we've built."
"Shut up, Kribo;” Thorn warned anxiously. “That kind of talk will get you into trouble."
Kribo winked at him. “It's all right, lad. I know you feel the same way. I saw your partner choke off a laugh on our way here, when we said, ‘The Chairman is always right.’”
Thorn knew the peril of such talk, and determined the time had come for the Planeteers to get started, since it was already full night outside. Sual Av and Gunner rose quickly at his nod.
"We've got to be on our way, Kribo,” Thorn told the big hunter. “Thanks a lot for what you've done for us."
He and his two comrades started for the door. But the thin-faced Saturnian he had noticed barred their way.
"Stand where you are!” snapped this individual. “You three and that hunter are under arrest — authority of the SP."
As he spoke, the thin-faced Saturnian turned back his jacket to show a viridiurn badge with the dreaded emblem.
"Secret police!” gasped Kribo, his face livid.
The whole place was frozen with terror, every man staring silently, for throughout the four worlds of the League, the secret police of Haskell Trask was a name to inspire fright.
The SP man was drawing a pocketaudio from his jacket. So sure was he of the power of his organization's name that he had not troubled to draw a weapon.
"You'll get a year in the mines of Pluto for your subversive talk,” he told Thorn and the others with thin-lipped satisfaction. Then he spoke into the little audio. “Forty-three-twelve calling headquarters. Send—” Thorn's fist crashed on his jaw, at that moment. The SP man went down in a crumpled heap, and a cry of fear and horror went up from the crowd in the place.
"Come on, Kribo!” yelled Thorn, grabbing the dazed hunter's arm. He rushed out into the street, Sual Av and the Mercurian at his heels.
The four of them plunged down the dark, dingy little thoroughfare, hearing an excited roar of voices from behind. The streets were far less crowded now, and the mists had cleared a little with the stopping of the rain. The stupendous bow of the rings blazed white overhead, and Titan was rising.
"Good God, we're all in for it now!” gasped Kribo as they stopped a few blocks away. “You hit an SP man!"
"We'll take care of ourselves,” Thorn rapped. “You'd better get back out into your fungus forests and stay there till this blows over."
Kribo grasped at the suggestion eagerly. He gripped Thorn's hand a moment in his huge paw.
"Thanks for pulling me out of there, lad,” he said fervently, and then hastened away.
Thorn started with his two comrades in a run through the darker cross-streets, heading toward the huge pile of the distant citadel that frowned black against the stars.
"This is fine. This makes things perfect!” Gunner Welk was growling as they ran. “Now we've got all the secret police in Saturnopolis looking for us. That's all we needed."
"Shut up and keep running,” Thorn panted. “We've got to get into the citadel before the SP net picks us up."
"Get into the citadel?” cried the Mercurian. “Are you still crazy enough to think we can?"
"You talk too much, Gunner,” laughed Sual Av breathlessly. “Save your wind-you'll need it."
They were all gasping from the strain of their efforts against the greater gravitation when John Thorn halted at the corner of two dark streets of warehouses, a mile from the citadel.
Thorn looked swiftly around to make sure they were unobserved, then stooped and tugged at something in the cement paving. It was a chromaloy metal plate that came loose to reveal a dark, yawning cavity below.
"Quick, down with you!” he ordered.
Bewilderedly, the Venusian and Mercurian dropped down through the aperture. Thorn followed, quickly replacing the plate above them.
They were in dank, absolute darkness, bitterly cold. But Thorn got out his fluoric flash-lamp and its little red beam showed they stood in a big cement tube at whose bottom ran a stream of icy water.
"This is one of the city's drains,” Thorn said rapidly. “They have to have a whole network of them, to run off the water from these perpetual rains. I learned about them when I first visited Saturn with an official Earth mission, years ago before Haskell Trask came to power.
"There are drains beneath the citadel that open out into these main ones,” Thorn continued tautly. “That's our way into the palace!"
"Up the drains?” Sual Av said startledly. “Why, I never thought of any way as simple as that."
It's too simple,” rasped Gunner Welk. “Do you think these people are so dumb that they won't have planted some kind of death-trap to keep intruders from entering the citadel thus?"
Thorn's jaw hardened. “We'll have to take that chance. Lana's in there, and this is our only way in to her."
He started along the great drain, the red beam lighting their way. The cold, dank air and the icy water they splashed through were freezing. Shadowy things scuttled away ahead of the Planeteers, as they pushed on through the gloomy tunnels toward the guarded stronghold of the dictator.