Empire

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

John Moore Mallory sat on the single metal chair within his cell and pressed his face against the tiny vision port For hours he had sat there, staring out into the blackness of space.

There was bitterness in John Moore Mallory's soul, a terrible and futile bitterness. So long as he had remained within the Ranthoor prison, there had always been a chance of escape. But now, aboard the penal ship, there was no hope. Nothing but the taunting reaches of space, the mocking pinpoints of the stars, the hooting laughter of the engines.

Sometimes he had thought he would go mad. The everlasting routine, the meaningless march of hours. The work period, the sleep period… the work period, the sleep period… endless monotony, an existence without a purpose. Men buried alive in space.

"John Moore Mallory,” said a voice.

Mallory heard, but he did not stir. An awful thought crossed his mind. Now he was hearing voices calling his name!

"John Mallory,” said the voice again.

Mallory slowly turned about and as he turned he started from his chair.

A man stood in the cell! A man he had never seen before, who had come silently, for there had been no screech of opening door.

"You are John Moore Mallory, aren't you?” asked the man.

"Yes, I am Mallory. Who are you?"

"Gregory Manning."

"Gregory Manning,” said Mallory wonderingly. “I've heard of you. You're the man who rescued the Pluto Expedition. But why are you here? How did you get in?"

"I came to take you away with me,” said Greg. “Back to Callisto. Back to any place you want to go."

Mallory flattened himself against the partition, his face white with disbelief. “But I'm in a prison ship. I'm not free to go and come as I please."

Greg chuckled. “You are free to go and come as you please from now on,” he said. “Even prison ships can't hold you."

"You're mad,” whispered Mallory. “Either you're mad or I am. You're a dream. I'll wake up and find you gone."

Manning stood in silence, looking at the man. Mallory bore the marks of prison on him. His eyes were haunted and his rugged face was pinched and thin.

"Listen closely, Mallory,” said Greg softly. “You aren't going mad and I'm not mad. You aren't seeing things. You aren't hearing things. You're actually talking to me."

There was no change in the other's face.

"Mallory,” Greg went on, “I have what you've always needed-means of generating almost unlimited energy at almost no cost, the secret of the energy of matter. A secret that will smash Interplanetary, that will free the Solar System from Spencer Chambers. But I can't make that secret available to the people until Chambers is crushed, until I'm sure that he can't take it from me. And to do that I need your help."

Mallory's face lost its expression of bewilderment, suddenly lighted with realization. But his voice was harsh and bitter.

"You came too late. I can't help you. Remember, I'm in a prison ship from which no one can escape. You have to do what you can… you must do what you can. But I can't be with you."

Manning strode forward. “You don't get the idea at all. I said I'd get you out of here and I'm going to. I could pick up this ship and put it wherever I wanted. But I don't want to. I just want you."

Mallory stared at him.

"Just don't be startled,” said Greg. “Something will happen soon. Get ready for it."

Feet drummed on the metal corridor outside.

"Hey, you, pipe down!” yelled the voice of the guard. “You know there's no talking allowed now. Go to sleep."

"That's the guard,” Mallory whispered fiercely. “They'll stop us."

Greg grinned viciously. “No, they won't."

The guard came into view through the grilled door.

"So it's you, Mallory…” he began, stopping in amazement. “Hey, you!” he shouted at Greg. “Who are you? How did you get in that cell?"

Greg flipped a hand in greeting. “Pleasant evening, isn't it?"

The guard grabbed for the door, but he did not reach the bars. Some force stopped him six inches away. It could not be seen, could not be felt, but his straining against accomplished nothing.

"Mallory and I are leaving,” Greg told the guard. “We don't like it here. Too stuffy."

The guard lifted a whistle and blew a blast. Feet pounded outside. A prisoner yelled from one of the cells. Another catcalled. Instantly the ship was in an uproar. The convicts took up the yammering, shaking the bars on their doors.

"Lets get started,” Greg said to Mallory. “Hold tight."

Blackness engulfed Mallory. He felt a peculiar twisting wrench. And then he was standing in the control room of a ship and Gregory Manning and another man were smiling at him. White light poured down from a cluster of globes. Somewhere in the ship engines purred with the hum of power. The air was fresh and pure, making him realize how foul and stale the air of the prison ship had been.

Greg held out his hand. “Welcome to our ship."

Mallory gripped his hand, blinking in the light. “Where am I?"

"You are on the Invincible, five million miles off Callisto."

"But were you here all the time?” asked Mallory. “Were you in my cell back there or weren't you?"

"I was really in your cell,” Greg assured him. “I could have just thrown my image there, but I went there personally to get you. Russ Page, here, sent me out. When I gave him the signal, he brought both of us back."

"I'm glad you're with us,” Russ said “Perhaps you'd like a cup of coffee, something to eat."

Mallory stammered. “Why, I really would.” He laughed. “Rations weren't too good in the prison ship."

They sat down while Russ rang the gallery for coffee and sandwiches.

Crisply, Greg informed Mallory of the situation.

"We want to start manufacturing these engines as soon as possible,” he explained, “but I haven't even dared to patent them. Chambers would simply buy out the officials if I tried it on Earth, delay the patent for a few days and then send through papers copied from ours. You know what he'd do with it if he got the patent rights. He'd scrap it and the old accumulator business would go on as always. If I tried it on any other world, with any other government, he'd see that laws were passed to block us. He'd probably instruct the courts to rule against the manufacture of the engines on the grounds that they were dangerous."

Mallory's face was grave. “There's only one answer,” he said. “With the situation on the worlds, with this purge you told me about, there's only one thing to do. We have to act at once. Every minute we wait gives Stutsman just that much longer to tighten his hold."

"And that answer?” asked Russ.

"Revolution,” said Mallory. “Simultaneous revolution in the Jovian confederacy, on Mars and Venus. Once free, the planets will stay free with your material energy engines. Spencer Chambers and his idea of Solar System domination will be too late."

Greg's forehead was wrinkled in thought, his facial muscles tensed.

"First thing to do,” he said, “is to contact all the men we can find… men we can rely on to help us carry out our plans. We'll need more televisor machines, more teleport machines, some for use on Mars and Venus, others for the Jovian moons. We will have to bring the men here to learn to operate them. It'll take a few days. We'll get some men to work on new machines right away."

He started to rise from his chair, but at that moment the coffee and sandwiches arrived.

Greg grinned. “We may as well eat first."

Mallory looked grateful and tried to keep from wolfing the food. The others pretended not to notice. GRIM hours followed, an unrelenting search over two planets and four moons for men whom Mallory considered loyal to his cause-men willing to risk their lives to throw off the yoke of Interplanetary.

They were hard to find. Many of them were dead, victims of the purge. The others were in hiding and word of them was difficult to get.

But slowly, one by one, they were ferreted out, the plan explained to them, and then, by means of the tele-transport, they were brought to the Invincible.

Hour after hour men worked, stripped to their waists, in the glaring inferno of terrible force fields, fashioning new television units. As fast as the sets were constructed, they were placed in operation.

The work went faster than could be expected, yet it was maddeningly slow.

For with the passing of each hour, Stutsman clamped tighter his iron grip on the planets. Concentration camps were filled to overflowing. Buildings were bombed and burned. Murders and executions were becoming too common to be news.

Then suddenly there was a new development.

"Greg, Craven has found something!” Russ cried. “I can't get him!"

Supervising the installation of a new televisor set, Greg spun around. “What's that?"

"Craven! I can't reach him. He's blocking me out!"

Greg helped, but the apparatus was unable to enter the Interplanetary building in New York. Certain other portions of the city adjacent to the building also were blanketed out. In all the Solar System, the Interplanetary building was the only place they could not enter, except the Sun itself.

Craven had developed a field from which their field shied off. The televisor seemed to roll off it like a drop of mercury. That definitely ended all spying on Craven and Chambers.

Russ mopped his brow, sucked at his dead pipe.

"Light penetrates it,” he said. “Matter penetrates it, electricity, all ordinary forces. But this field won't. It's… well, whatever Craven has is similarly dissimilar. The same thing of opposite nature. It repels our field, but doesn't affect anything else. That means he has analyzed our fields. We have Wilson to thank for this."

Greg nodded gravely. “There's just one thing to be thankful for,” he declared. “He probably isn't any nearer our energy than he was before. But now we can't watch him. And that field of his shows that he has tremendous power of some sort."

"We can't watch him, but we can follow him,” corrected Russ. “He can't shake us. None of them can. The mechanical shadow will take care of that. I have one for Craven with a bit of ‘bait’ off his spectacles and he'll keep those spectacles, never fear. He's blind as a bat without them. And we can track Chambers with his ring."

"That's right,” agreed Greg, “but we've got to speed up. Craven is getting under way now. If he does this, he can do something else. Something that will really hurt us. The man's clever… too damn clever."