Chapter 6: Ulana

Blaine was tugging at the lever he had seen the Rulans use in opening the stone door from the inside. Tommy, less excited, tried to press one of the invisible cloaks into his free hand.

“Here,” he begged. “Don’t be a damn fool! They’ll get you, the devils.”

But the great block of stone was swinging already and the young pilot squeezed through and into the passage. He stumbled over the crumpled figure of a young girl and into the arms of one of the green-bronze guards.

Recovering instantly, he prodded the big fellow’s ribs with the ray pistol. “Stick ‘em up!” he snarled. Then, realizing the words were meaningless to the other, he said, “Raise your hands--above your head! That’s right. Stand still now, or I’ll use the ray.”

The guard, his face ghastly in the dim light, obeyed. But his wary eyes never left Blaine’s for an instant.

A short way down the hall was the body of a young Rulan. Blaine shuddered as he saw it was headless. The ray had nearly missed that time, its energy spent before complete disintegration was effected. The girl lay still at his feet. With quick fingers he frisked the guard, finding his ray pistol and one gas grenade. What was he to do with the big fellow? He ought to let him have it, but somehow he couldn’t.

Tommy was in the passageway then, invisible. The big guard stifled an amazed cry as his husky voice came out of the nothingness. These devils of Earth men! They had worked their evil magic on the Zara: had she not ordered that their lives be spared? And now there was this! His thoughts were written large on the ordinarily expressionless countenance, and Blaine was tempted to laugh at his affrighted dismay.

“Come on, you bonehead,” Tommy was saying in English. “Bring the big bum inside. I’ll carry the girl. Hurry; there’ll be a million of them in a minute.”

The girl’s huddled figure was raised by unseen hands. Poised in mid-air for a moment, it floated joggily, unsteadily through the crack of the partly opened stone door. The guard, wide-mouthed and staring, muttered supplication to the war gods of Antrid.

Safely inside the secret chamber, the Earth men made haste to truss up the guard and gag him. He was as tractable as a child under the invisible fingers of Tom Farley, with eyes imploring the evil spirits for mercy. And when Tommy’s head appeared, drifting, unsupported by a body; to be followed by arms and shoulders that seemed to materialize from nothingness, the big fellow struggled panic-stricken in his bonds, shaking with superstitious terror.

Blaine straightened the girl’s limbs where she lay on a low couch. She was breathing in low shuddering gasps, but a swift examination assured him she had not been harmed. Her beautifully chiseled ivory features were fixed in an expression of nameless dread. A mass of red-gold hair tumbled in confusion about her face and shoulders and when the pilot smoothed this back his heart did a most peculiar flip-flop. Sort of jumped into his throat and stuck there. This Rulan maiden was a vision of feminine loveliness if there ever was one; a dream.

Tommy watched him with a cynical smile, and said with mock contempt, “So you’re the guy who swore you’d never tangle up with a femme! Just a month ago, too. Now look: first you get this Zara woman all het up over you, and now this one’s got you all het up over her. You make me sick!”

There was no fitting retort. Besides, this thing that had come to him was too serious; too big. He couldn’t kid about it--even with Tom. Why, he’d always pictured this very girl in his thoughts; had always dreamed of meeting her some day. And here she was: a living, breathing reality. She was stirring, too, now; breathing easier. Her eyes opened wide; frightened, innocent ones like a child’s, blue-gray and fringed with long lashes that raised dewy from the smooth ivory of her cheeks.

“Antius, my brother,” she exclaimed, remembering, “where is he? I saw--I thought--and the guard; he wanted to take me--oh!”

Hands fluttering to cover her face, she was sobbing now, and Blaine raised her in his arms, clumsily attempting to comfort her.

“Your brother,” he said gently; “I’m afraid the guard did away with him. He is no more.”

“Y-yes. I remember now; I saw.” She shuddered and became still, her tousled golden head somehow finding a comfortable hollow beneath Blaine’s shoulder.

And then, bravely, she sat erect and faced him. “I--I suppose I shouldn’t feel so badly,” she said. “We always expect it. But I was so fond of him, and he was the last. I am alone now.”

“Not alone,” said Blaine; “you have me--us, that is. We are the Earth men, you know. And you are safe here.”

“You are Carson?” she inquired.

“Yes, and my friend is Farley. That is how your people address us, but we had rather you call us Blaine and Tommy.”

Tom Farley was grinning like an idiot. Didn’t he have any more sense? Blaine thought. The girl would think he was making fun of her.

“I am Ulana,” she said simply.

The stone door opened silently and Tiedus slipped in, closing it swiftly behind him. He stared at the girl and at the trussed-up figure of the guard.

“So!” he exclaimed; “this is the explanation.” He breathed heavily as if he had run a long way, and his face was flushed with excitement.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Blaine sensed a calamity.

“The Zara--she must have seen you in the crystal. She is in a murderous rage and has visited her wrath on the Tritu Anu. Even now Dantor is on his way to Ilen-dar in answer to her summons.”

“Tiedus! I’m sorry. It is my fault entirely, but--but we heard Ulana cry out.”

“You did quite right, Carson. I should have done the same myself. And actually it makes little difference as far as we Rulans are concerned. We had not long to remain in this life, anyway. It is only that your hiding place might be revealed; that our plans to outwit the Llotta will fail.”

“You--you think she will make away with Dantor?”

“No; he is too valuable as a scientist. But the guards are awaiting her orders to repeat what happened in the Tritu Nogaru. She depends on the work of this laboratory a great deal, though it may be she will stay her hand.”

He was fussing with the controls of the small crystal as he spoke, and it sprang into life with the peculiar shifting milkiness. Then, clearly, they were looking into the council chamber at Ilen-dar. Clyone was there, pacing the floor. Dantor had just arrived with two of the green-bronze guards. The Zara, though nervous, was curiously calm and polite in her greeting of the aged scientist.

“Dantor,” she said, “I want these Earth men.”

“I can not produce them, Your Majesty.”

“You will not, you mean.” Clyone dropped her voice. “For two reasons, Dantor, I must have these Earth men. And they must not be harmed. We need them on account of this k-metal that was brought by Antazzo, whose ugly body I so foolishly destroyed.”