Chapter II

"No strikes yet!" Bill Nardon said softly, his eyes glued to the Electronoscope. "Sense anything, Freml?"

"Only an outflow of thought-energy ... infinitely distant.... I don't quite know, Nardon. It's voiceless ... patternless, to me at least." The Panadur leader sounded uncertain. Even to his stupendous mind-power, the voiceless susurration, alive, malignant, was a tenuous thing sensed more than felt, directionless, part of the vast, galactic night that engulfed the _bait ship_ in blackness so velvety it was like smothering charred ash. The gigantic super-spacer in the building of which six planets had tried to outdo each other, knifed through the impalpable vibrations in its endless flight. Back of it, a tiny smouldering disk, like a glowing ruby-brooch, nearly three-quarters of a billion miles away, was the sun.

Ahead, Saturn was slowly coming into position, and the great wings of light that were its rings shone with the glory of an eternal rainbow, paling the immense crystalline jewel that was Pluto.

The tension within the spacer mounted perceptibly. Yet interminably the hours dragged on and on. All screens were down, save those for meteorite protection, as if deliberately inviting an attack. Every member of the heterogeneous crew knew their assigned tasks so that mechanically they would spring to their stations at the least warning.

Saturn grew immense, glorious beyond belief, until Bill Nardon was forced from the Electronoscope by the intolerable light. It was then that some one laughed. Rather, it was a cachinnation sounding eerily in their midst.

Abruptly, Bill Nardon tensed, his preternatural faculties alert. He swung slowly from the eye piece of the 'scope and faced the emissaries--scientists-explorers all, of the six planets. It was the Neptunian who had laughed. He was shaking silently now, as if some hidden mirth convulsed him.

"We're close to the last planetary outpost," he observed, "and, nothing yet! This isn't an expedition, Nardon ... it's a farce! What can you expect to find in Saturn? A frozen waste of solid, glassy hydrogen and helium, an infinite wilderness of 'hot-solid' gases under unimaginable pressure. You know Saturn has an atmosphere of at least twenty thousand miles in depth!"

"I know nothing of the kind," Bill answered evenly, with studied calm. "Saturn has never been properly 'correlated.' Liquids and solids don't compress; besides, even if Saturn were as you say a frozen waste with a temperature of say 180° C. below zero, that would still be too hot for hydrogen, which cannot exist as a liquid at that temperature. I needn't mention helium which requires a temperature lower still for liquefaction."

"You're leading us," the Neptunian hissed through clenched teeth, "into gales of methane and ammonia roaring around a dead world of frightful cold; into a frozen hell where if the atmosphere doesn't crush us, we'll never escape the overwhelming gravitational pull.... You ... you fiend." The last words were a shriek just as he launched himself in a tigerish leap straight for the throat of the Terran "Correlator."

And Bill sprang aside, his left hook instinctively catapulting to the unprotected chin of the Neptunian. But it failed to stop him. Off balance, slightly stunned by the blow, the maddened delegate from Neptune whirled on the Terran, aiming a staggering blow that whizzed past Bill's head with savage force. Off balance, the Neptunian staggered forward, his lean features contorted by bestial rage and the lust to kill. He was like a man possessed.

Bill Nardon was icy calm now. The harrowing training all members of the Explorer Class had to undergo, had come to the surface, and to the tall Terran everything had ceased to exist but the task at hand. He rolled aside slightly, sending a straight left to the Neptunian's head, driving him off balance again. Bill weaved to and fro, lightly balanced on his toes as the Neptunian came boring back with terrible tenacity. Bill's right arm was a peg on which he hung the blows of the man from Neptune, while lashing like a cobra, his boxer's left, long and weaving, stabbed in again and again. The "Correlator" didn't want to kill the man. For here was another mystery. The attack was absurd, from the standpoint of their aims and goals. But he had no time to correlate the facts and arrive at a decision.

* * * * *

The Neptunian rushed murderously eager, and Bill let his heels touch the floor, refused to give way. He took a staggering blow to the midriff, and went pale from pain, but with the swiftness of a striking _Calamar_, he countered with a vicious left to the face and a slashing right cross. The Neptunian staggered uttering a hoarse cry as his features seemed to run like the quicksilver face of the Amazon from Mercury. He staggered and fell to the blood-spattered ordine plastic floor of the cruiser. Bill stood heaving, only now the answer was apparent to him, but again his thoughts were cut short, for the Neptunian was far from through. Into the ghastly face, a new expression of diabolical fury had appeared, and as he lurched to his feet, his right hand clawed at his belt for a weapon. Only power-rapiers had been allowed them individually until a landing was effected, and it was fortunate, for as the clawing fingers closed about the rapier's hilt, an unholy light came into the Neptunian's eyes.

Bill heard a thunderous battle-cry as a bulky shape sprang between him and the Neptunian, but he swept his rescuer aside. It was the Amazon, her own power-rapier drawn for battle.

"No interference!" he exclaimed in a voice as cold as outer space. His own blade was in his hand now, the flexible Columbium-steel activated by the dreadful electronic fire. The touch of that blade disintegrated flesh and bone and metal even. They were face to face now, confronting each other with the wary savagery of Venusian Ocelandians. The smell of death was in the air, and too, the wordless, tremendous, inarticulate vibration from an unknown source that seemed to hint at inconceivable horror, and ebbed and flowed about them. They could all sense it now, as it increased as if in a crescendo of triumph.

And at that instant the Neptunian struck. One moment they were circling for an opening, their ghastly weapons ready, and the next the singing blades met in midair as Bill Nardon parried the slashing blow. And then reason tottered as time stood still. Where the blades had been a flaring vortex of unendurable blue light sprang between them like a hellish fan of electronic fury opening before their eyes.

The Neptunian's blade had disappeared, consumed in the incredible holocaust; only the neutralized hilt of Vulcanite remained in his palsied hand as they reeled aside, blinded and unnerved. Bill's blade swished through the air as he reversed it and struck the Neptunian on the left temple with the Vulcanite hilt. The man's knees went rubbery and without a sound he slumped to the floor.

"The screen ... throw on the Multi-Energon screen!" Bill bellowed. "This man was being _directed_, someone else may be next!" The powerful hum of the inner screen within the cruiser, that rendered everything within impervious to every known power, arose in the brief silence. And none too soon. Suddenly the cruiser lurched, and trembled like a great wounded stallion.

Bill had a confused picture of the addled members of several planets clinging to ultra-mullioned gravity seats as the ship began to spin. Every possible aid of science had been lavished on the cruiser, even to the most exacting provisions against physical injury, or the danger from an unexpected crash-landing in some far off world. But even their combined science, great as it was, had not foreseen the unpredictable enough to counteract this blow.

As if a cosmic hand had grasped the hurtling, spinning ship, it described an orbital parabola, flashing like a living thing through space, and headed at an unimaginable acceleration directly into the phantasmal light of the great winged world. Bill's dazzled eyes saw the tiny Panadur fight to strap himself to the acceleration seat on which he perched, while frantically he strove to retain consciousness. Everything seemed ringed with prismatic rainbows from the awful glare of the electronic flash, as Bill resolutely set his conscious and sub-conscious mind in alignment to fight off oblivion. But nothing human could withstand consciously the orbital fall of the great ship, as it dived into the fathomless abyss of night in a concentric spiral that narrowed tighter and tighter, wheeling in direct ratio with the rotation of the mammoth planet, at which it was aimed like the spear of a cosmic angel.

Bill's last comforting thought was the Multi-Energon screen. Nothing, his superb mind conceived, could possibly penetrate that. A crash was imminent, he knew, but against that they were prepared. He tried to contact whatever it was that had sent the polyglot vibrations and had managed to grip the Neptunian's brain, and only a confused disorder, as of many minds abandoning their temporary union came to him, and then ... the profound illimitable darkness of complete oblivion.

* * * * *

None aboard saw the fantastic scene as the cruiser neared Saturn and was trapped by the hungry pull of the planet. None witnessed the macabre sight of stupendous mountains rising to impale them as they struck its atmosphere. Uncannily, the cruiser began to decelerate as the robot control went into action, activated by the atmospheric pressure. In a great swinging arc, the super-spacer settled lower and lower, until at last, immense lateral fins shot out of its sides, and secondary rockets belched forth, braking the headlong rush.

Beneath them, a world of light and shadows shimmered under the unearthly loveliness of the great rings, as if illumined by a sidereal current of glowing jewels. Three of the nine moons were in transit, phantasmal in their silent loveliness as they hovered over the parent world. Beneath, the liquid sparkle of an unknown ocean undulated softly, twinkling with myriad star points as if spangled with stardust.

At last the inter-planetary cruiser came to rest, ploughing up immense furrows in the glittering sands of the shore, in a partial crash-landing. The robot controls, magnetically activated to decelerate in direct ratio with the proximity of land, had held true. The almost incandescent tertiary-outer hull of the ship, began to cool to a dull silvery hue. In the near distance, a glorious city of towering spires and prismatic domes, was like a fairy scene on a colossal scale. But no fingers of light issued from its towers and domes. No living beings issued from its portals to investigate the arrival of these voyagers of space.

Only the querulous susurration of the spumeless waves of the great shining sea disturbed the eternal silence of Saturn. The silence of a dead world had enveloped the Terran ship, even as within it, the unconscious members of its heterogeneous crew were wrapped in the silence of oblivion.

The wheeling moons, one blue, one palest amber, and one, the largest like a glowing ruby of the skies, passed on, while time marched on in its endless cavalcade.

* * * * *

Bill gasped in a spasm of living torture as consciousness returned in a flood. Slowly he opened long blue eyes that were tragic with pain, and surveyed the inert forms all about him in the great control cabin of the ship. To one side, the partly crushed form of the Neptunian delegate sprawled abnormally twisted. Bill knew instantly the man was dead, and a flicker of sorrow touched his eyes. There had been no time to strap him to an acceleration chair. It was their first casualty. To his right a slight movement betrayed returning life to the Amazonian being from tiny Mercury. The woman, if she could be termed that, moaned unconsciously and then opened her coal black eyes with a stupefied look. They widened as comprehension came. The great cruiser was at rest, and through the visiports flooded the jewelled illumination of Saturn's rings. An indistinct croak issued from her throat, and was echoed by the "_Ahh_" of excruciating pain as the fastidious Martian also came to. With an effort, Bill Nardon unstrapped himself and rose unsteadily, flexing cramped muscles that shrieked exquisite torture at every movement he made. But he managed to reach the emergency cabinet and extract a priceless Neptunian flask of Jadite, jewelled with Sapphirines. He opened and satisfied himself that it was filled with _Sulfalixir_, then ministered to their needs. The miraculous stimulant was like a draught of life-essence to them. Not until then, did he ascend to the observation dome. The sight that greeted his eyes was to remain as long as he lived a memorable experience.

Behind him trooped the others, to stand in awe at the spectacle before them. "Saturn!" Bill Nardon breathed. "For countless ages unvisited by man ... and yet, a habitable world!" In the distance, the shimmering city glowed with a thousand hues under the illumination of the rings, silent, aloof.

"Cut multiple screen briefly and obtain atmospheric samples," Bill Nardon broke the spell. "I'll want everyone wearing Energon helmets for the interval while the screen's off."

He gestured to the assembled scientists, coldly efficient. The breathless moment of matchless thrill was over. The winged Venusian left immediately on his way to the Geology lab, while the Martian followed to make atmospheric tests. The Neptunian scientist in charge of chemistry was dead, so Bill sent a Terran subordinate in his stead. At last only the Panadur whose task was psycho-synthesis due to his abnormal telepathic sensitiveness remained with Bill, who besides being Commander, had the arduous task of correlating findings.

"We've landed _alive_! That is the incredible fact," the Panadur flashed. "And now that we're here, it seems our enemy--whatever it is, has changed its plans. At least, I sense no peril."

"Here," Bill replied mentally, handing the silvery creature a flexible crysto-plast helmet powered by the Energon principle, "Don your helmet. The screen is being cut, and we can't risk any more _seizures_." He paused while he adjusted his own helmet, then went on: "If we are alive, we have the multiple-energon screen to thank," he said slowly. "Whatever seized us in space meant to end our journey right then and there. Remember the man from Neptune!"

"That city is human ... I sense it!" The Panadur telepathed, as the impenetrable barrier of the screen was cut off. "Odd, the vibration is low, almost imperceptible, where it should be tremendous if it's inhabited!"

"We're plagued by mysteries!" Bill replied exasperated. "Well, next thing's to vibrate the news to Europa and Neptune via Astro-Magnum.... Hope it hasn't been damaged--no Ethero-Magnum could bridge the distance to the nearest planets!"

But Freml, the Panadur, wasn't listening even with part of his mind; the great shining city in the near distance seemed to have a hypnotic fascination for him. Slowly he took off the Energon screen helmet, and seemed to concentrate its mental power into its highest apex of ultra-sensitivity. At last it turned its glaucous beryl eyes on Bill Nardon, shining with a great excitement, and poured a telepathic stream:

"There is life in that city ... an ocean of life! But it's not active ... it's dormant, submerged ... helpless!" The Panadur seemed to grope for qualifying adjectives; impatiently it went on: "But _there is one_ that is not dormant, and it is a mind of power!"

Into their midst the Martian scientist raced with a wild look in his eyes.

* * * * *

"The atmosphere ... Commander ... it can't be! It's a hydrogen, oxygen compound stabilized by an unknown gas that has properties of living energy ... there's nothing like it in our known universe ... it's like a sentient thing!"

"Is it breathable?" Bill's laconic query.

"Yes, exhilarating even ... but I have yet to test for secondary metabolic effects.... I ... for once in my existence I was too excited to complete the tests!" The Martian scientist was abashed. "It has one remarkable property, though, its vibratory conductivity exceeds that of water many times, not to speak of air."

"That will aid us in sending by Astro-Magnum," Bill thought instantly, and their attuned minds received the message. "Astro-radio will receive an impetus in its passage through this atmosphere we had not counted on!"

And something else they had not counted on was advancing toward them like a vast curtain of scintillating light. It was Bill who saw it first, covering half of the vast horizon, terrible in the unearthly beauty of its swirling vortices of prismatic stars.

In a prodigious leap Bill Nardon was at the conveyor that slid noiselessly into the control room, in those few dreadful seconds, it seemed to him he would never have time to reach the control board as he raced with extinction. When his hand closed over the switch that activated the outer Multi-Energon Screen, a wave of nausea swept him from the intensity of the reaction.

And without warning the starry swarm struck. Like billions of miniature stars exploding, the ship was enveloped in coruscating flame, lurid, unbearable in the dazzling glare of the holocaust, until even Bill Nardon doubted if the mathematically perfect Energon Screen providing an infinite overlapping series, would hold. Beneath was the invulnerable hull of Vulcanite, he knew. But would even Vulcanite be impervious to this bombardment once the screen gave way?

"All scientists at emergency stations!" He barked as he telepathed at the same time. "Battle crews man all weapons and hold fire pending orders. Everyone wear helmets!"

* * * * *

He, himself took over the Electro-Flash, Neptune's gift to the Expedition. In a way, it was the ultimate weapon, disrupting as it did the very electronic balances of organic and inorganic matter.

And then, as abruptly as it had come, the terrible grandeur of the living curtain was withdrawn, receding into the far distance like a vast nebula of microscopic stars.

Bill shook himself. This must be telekinesis, a nightmare instilled into their minds, it couldn't be real! But the white-faced Venusian that fluttered in, flashing incoherent messages as he tried to telepath, dispelled that thought.

"Commander ... I have checked the graph of power intake of automatic absorber P-6, set to absorb cosmic rays for auxiliary power.... I...." He passed a tiny, weary hand over his smooth brow, and his azure wings hung limp, "I can't believe it ... we have more power, _more atomic power_ than when we began this trip! It is as if we had tapped an incredible source of radio-active energy!"

Silently, a Terran scientist handed Nardon a developed electro-photo of a small segment of the "curtain" of fire. Unmistakably outlined were myriad tiny insect bodies, unquestionably composed of some living radio-active substance.

"The Absolute be praised!" Bill breathed fervently. "No known ship--not even Vulcanite could possibly withstand a radio-active bombardment of such scope!" He turned slowly to where the Martian scientists stood silent in a group. "I salute you," he telepathed gravely. "Your Multi-Energon screen is the greatest defensive weapon in our Universe." Embarrassedly, the tall, violet-eyed Martians stirred uncomfortably; they had a deep distaste for any emotions and suppressed them ruthlessly. Other findings began to trickle in. The nameless inter-stellar spacer that had emerged from the combined ingenuity of half a dozen worlds, spurred by the ultimate incentive of a brooding and catastrophic peril, all the more terrible because it was unknown, literally swarmed with specialists in every known science. It remained for the special mind of Bill Nardon to correlate all the scientific details and weld them into a final complete knowledge, behind which it was his task to find and solve the _primum mobile_--the motivating factor that they sought.

One thing emerged beyond the shadow of a doubt. Each attack had been characterized by a complete absence of a known _presence_. The individual attempt on Bill's life on earth had been carried out by a creature acting outside its own volition; the magnetic force that had drawn their ship into Saturn itself, likewise was disembodied, and now this radio-active swarm that would have consumed them but for the Energon screen--it too gave no clue as to the final, directing intelligence behind. And yet, in their very midst, a great scientific mind had gone mad.

The stalemate was clear. Thus far they had weathered the unimaginable behind their Energon Screen. But they were trapped within just as effectively as long as they were unable to emerge. The sum total of their knowledge resolved itself to a series of bizarre incidents--to which it might be added the cryptic thought-projection of Freml, the Panadur. He had mentioned "_an ocean of submerged life ... helpless_" had been his final description. Yet he had also indicated a "Mind of Power" far from helpless or submerged indeed. And great as it might be, _one single entity_ was, foe or not, worthy of challenge. The incomplete puzzle in Bill Nardon's mind revolved with all the maddening quality of a picture almost discerned, yet eluding the final composition that would give it recognizable form.

The question was, should they correlate all findings and attempt a return to Earth, and utilize their meager knowledge in preparation of some sort of a defense. Or, take the final risk and visit that silent city whence Freml had drawn vibrations of intelligent life. Bill Nardon already knew what his decision would be. He would call a conference, of course, but in his mind the determination to confront whatever that 'Mind of Power' was--_alone_, had already crystallized.

And in another mind, alien beyond belief, in comparison with his, the same idea had taken root. For Freml, the Panadur, had not told Bill Nardon all he had obtained in that last mental projection of his. A deep, inhuman horror had traveled the incredibly-faint thought waves. Something ancient beyond calculation, as if the essence of evil itself had come alive, had bridged the gap.