Читать книгу The Radio Beasts - Roger Sherman Hoar - Страница 4

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This is the story told us by Myles Cabot, the radio man.

You will remember that a treaty had been concluded early in the year 359 with the defeated ant empire, whereby a new pale was set up many miles to the south of the old, which had formerly served as the boundary between Cupia and Formia. Behind this new pale were crowded the remnants of the once great race of Formians. Cupia was at last free from a domination which had lasted for five hundred years.

So, for nearly two years thereafter, Cupia had prospered.

Myles Cabot, the radio genius, lived in the palace of King Kew, with the lovely princess whom he had won as a bride, Lilla, fairest of all the women of Cupia. White skinned she was, with rose-petal cheeks. Her eyes were sapphire-blue, and her short curly hair was the color of spun gold. Slim she was, and lithe as a fairy, which resemblance was enhanced by two tiny iridescent wings upon her back, and two butterfly-antennae which projected from her forehead. These wings and antennae were features common to all of her race; but the other distinguishing Cupian characteristics, namely, the extra finger on each hand (which led them to count by twelves, instead of by tens as we do), the extra toe on each foot, and the total lack of ears, you never would notice.

Her earthman husband had so perfected the radio-set (which he always carried as a means of communication with her and her people), that no one would ever suspect him of not being a veritable Cupian himself. His hair was trimmed so as to conceal his ears and the tiny earphones therein. His microphone was located between his collar bones, where it was effectively hidden by the neck-band of his toga. His batteries, bulbs, and controls were on a belt worn next to his skin. Artificial wings were fastened to his back, and artificial antennae projected from his forehead. So that only a very close examination of his hands or his bare feet would ever betray him as a creature of a race different from that now dominant on the planet.

Now that Cupia no longer had to supply slaves to Formia, the Cupians soon found that their customary four hours a day work produced much more than was needed for all the useful purposes of their empire, and accordingly Cabot persuaded King Kew to undertake a series of public works, the first of which was to be a huge stadium for the holding of games.

The new stadium had been completed shortly before Peace Day in the year three hundred and fifty-ten, and the Peace Day exercises were held there, instead of on the plaza of Kuana as heretofore. This was particularly appropriate, for the stadium had been built on the exact spot where had occurred the first clash between the Formians and the Cupians at the beginning of the War of Liberation two years before.

The golden-haired Lilla was unable to be present, for she was expecting a child. So she was safely ensconced in her castle at Lake Luno, a thousand stads to the north of Kuana.

Cabot and she hoped for a boy. They hoped this with more than the conventional fervor, for their son would be Crown Prince of Cupia, thus supplanting the renegade Prince Yuri, whose whereabouts had been unknown since the war. The birth of a son to the Princess Lilla would mean the end of the menace of the possibility of Yuri succeeding the throne on the death of King Kew, and bringing back the ants with him. It is true that the Assembly had cancelled his title as crown prince, and had awarded the succession to his younger brother, the loyal Prince Toron; but most Cupians doubted the legality of this procedure.

Myles would have been at Lake Luno with his wife, had it not been for the fact that his position as Minister of Play in the Royal Cabinet absolutely required his presence at the exercises. In addition, he was to shoot on one of the competing revolver teams, which were to furnish part of the entertainment. So he had made—literally—a flying trip from Lake Luno, arriving at Kuana just in time for the performance.

Formia, the ant-nation, had been invited to send a delegation, but had declined. Who can blame them, considering that the occasion was to commemorate their downfall? So the program went on without the ants, and the stand reserved for them remained vacant, although the rest of the huge amphitheater was jammed with some fifty thousand enthusiastic Cupians.

The weather could not have been finer. The air was warm, fragrant, hot-house scented, and fanned by gentle zephyrs; for the prevailing winds, which blow ever toward the boiling seas, were less strong than usual. Above, at a far height, shone the silver clouds which always surround the planet, to shield it from the intense heat of the sun. The light, diffused by these clouds, shed a soft radiance over the scene below, transforming the gay coloring of the Cupian togas into delicate pastel shades. The day was typical of Porovian, weather at its best, not at all the proper setting for the ominous events which were impending, all unforeseen by the holiday throng.

The exercises commenced by a young boy from the Kuana public schools reciting the king’s famous address which had opened the war of two years ago.

Next came the speech of welcome, but just as King Kew arose to broadcast his remarks, a messenger arrived from the nearest radio station to announce that one of the government planes had been sighted, displaying signals to the effect that it was carrying a delegation from Formia.

So Queen Formis had decided to be represented after all!

Scarce had this news been received, when the plane itself appeared, and soon settled softly into the middle of the arena. Thereat there was much waving of the red pennant of Cupia from the stands, and even a few of the black pennants of Formia showed themselves. Cabot vaguely wondered how any of his people had happened to bring with them the flag of their late enemies. But doubtless it was just so as to be prepared to receive politely such a visitation as this.

Out of the airship disembarked an officer of the Cupian air navy, and four ant men. It was over a year since Cabot had seen one of these creatures, who once had been his only companions, and he noted with surprise that they now seemed almost as strange to his eye as they had on his first day on this planet. Huge shiny black ants they were, the size of horses, with no other adornment than their green folding umbrellas slung at their sides, in readiness for use if the blasting sunlight should happen to shine through a rift in the silver clouds, and the white paint-marks on their backs giving their own serial numbers and the numbers of their fellow countrymen whom they had killed in the duels so common among them.

Three of them had the trim shipshape look of members of the Formian aristocracy, and the fourth was very old—as indicated by the quantity of duel numbers which he bore—and walked with difficulty.

Side by side the ants approached the foot of the throne and made obeisance to the king, a pleasing sight indeed to those who had long been accustomed to see Cupia bow before Formis! Then one of their delegation sent up a scroll of parchment by a page. Kew’s brow darkened as he read it to himself.

Finally Kew spoke.

“One of your requests is impossible,” he thundered. “Prince Yuri is a traitor. If we had been sure he were still alive, his surrender to us would have been one of the conditions of the treaty. Now that you have revealed his whereabout, know you that Cupia will consider no propositions from Formis until Yuri is in our hands. I have spoken.”

Then suddenly the eyes of the whole multitude shifted from their ruler to the aged ant man. To the horror of all, the entire upper half of his body was opening as if on a hinge! And in the cavity thus exposed, there lay a Cupian! The aged ant man had not been an ant man at all, but merely a clever piece of mechanism, like the wooden horse at Troy.

The Cupian now sprang to his feet and approached the throne. It was Prince Yuri himself!

“Is that so, my uncle?” he shouted. “Know then that Yuri is no traitor, but rather is King of Poros!”

And before any one could interfere, the prince had drawn his revolver and fired, and the beloved King Kew the Twelfth had fallen with a bullet through his heart. Instantly a cheer arose, and from one end of that huge forum to the other, there were flung out, not the red pennant of the Kew dynasty, but rather the yellow pennant of Prince Yuri and the black pennant of the ants. A few red flags fluttered pitiably, but the administration was outnumbered two to one. Quite evidently the stadium had been packed. Yuri, the traitor and outcast, at one stroke had become King of Cupia.

So this was the situation of the match and the powder: Kew the Twelfth lying on the floor of the royal box, his noble heart stilled forever; Yuri, his nephew, the traitor to Cupia and friend of the ants, standing over the body, with a smoking revolver in his hand; Myles Cabot and the others of Kew’s cabinet and retinue transfixed by horror; and a vast majority of the huge concourse proclaiming the assassin as their new king!

What irony of fate that firearms, which had been unknown on Poros until the earthman had introduced them for the overthrow of the ants, should now be employed to confound the earthman himself and to restore the ants to power! Well, he, too, was armed. As Field Marshal of Cupia, he determined that Kew’s death must be avenged. So he, too, drew his revolver and fired at the renegade prince.

But, as he did this, Hah Babbuh, his own Chief of Staff and friend, struck his hand aside so that the bullet missed its mark.

“Fool!” hissed Hah. “It is death to offer violence to your king.”

“But is not that what Yuri has just done?” Cabot replied. “Then why should not he suffer the penalty?”

“Because Yuri was crown prince when he fired the shot,” Hah explained, “hence that very crime which killed his uncle, made him king, and thus immune to punishment.”

But Cabot had to have the last word. “In that case, had we not better page Prince Toron, who is next in the line of succession?”

In a moment he was sorry he had spoken. During his brief conversation, the new king had been standing with his arms folded, and a sneer on his handsome face. But now he became visibly agitated.

“Good Builder!” he exclaimed. “I had forgotten about my brother. A full sarkarship and complete immunity to whoever brings me his head.”

“But, sire,” one of Yuri’s henchmen interposed, “there be those who say that the death of Kew makes thy brother king, and not thee.”

“The Valley to whoever says it from now on!” was Yuri’s curt reply.

Those around him blanched with horror at the mention of this most terrible of all Porovian punishments, the Valley of the Howling Rocks, where condemned criminals are confined until the terrific din drives them mad, and they perish.

All this took place in much less time than is required for the telling of it. Meanwhile a bodyguard of the yellow faction had gathered about Yuri, and had disarmed and handcuffed Myles Cabot and all the other occupants of the royal box. Another bodyguard was protecting the three ant men down in the arena.

Yuri now addressed Hah Babbuh: “For saving my life, professor, you have my gratitude, though I realize that you were not actuated by any regard for me.”

“Your majesty is correct as to that,” said the Babbuh with dignity.

“We will let that pass,” continued Yuri, “and, for your services, you can have the posts of Field Marshal and Secretary of Play, which are soon to become vacated.” He cast a meaning glance in Cabot’s direction.

But Hah, still with dignity, declined the honor.

Meanwhile the Kew faction in the audience had gradually been coming to their senses. You will remember that Cabot’s own athletic club was to compete in the pistol shooting. There now ensued a few moments of consultation among their officers, and then they charged the bodyguard of the three ant men. In this they were joined by most of the competing club.

Although outnumbered, these men were all armed and were all crack shots. How Cabot wished that they were equipped with the explosive bullets which had been used in the late war. But, even as it was, they wrought frightful havoc, and soon Cabot saw the three ants go down.

Meanwhile most of the unarmed members of the audience were crowding out of the stadium, the ladies putting up their umbrellas as though that would protect them from the flying bullets, which already had taken a toll of several of their number. Then Yuri and his escort dragged their prisoners to one of the exits, and Myles saw no more of the fighting within the stadium.

Hah was still kept prisoner, in spite of having incurred the gratitude of the new king. He had had his chance, but had preferred to side with Cabot. What other alternative, then, than to incarcerate him!

The scene into which they emerged was equally turbulent. Cupian men and women were pouring out of all the exits and streaming across the plain toward the city; and it was evident that, when all these faction-crazed individuals reached their quarters and got hold of their rifles, hell would break loose in Kuana.

As Yuri and his captives proceeded toward the capital city, Cabot heard a sound to the southward. So, straining his manacled hands as far to one side as he could, he switched off his receiving set. This set existed for the purpose of enabling the earthman to hear the radiated speech of the Cupians. But, when he wished to listen to some real sound, he could do it far better with his set turned off.

There could be no doubt as to the sound which he now heard. It was the Cupian airfleet from Wautoosa. Now, indeed, the tables would be turned on Prince Yuri!

And, to add to Cabot’s joy, the remnants of his own hundred now fought its way out of the exit, and pursued King Yuri and his captives across the plain.

The fleet flew low in bombing formation; and, as they drew near, the occupants of the leading planes finally became visible. Cabot strained his eyes to try and recognize some of the well-known leaders of the Cupian air navy. Nearer and nearer drew the planes. More and more distinct became the occupants. Cabot thrilled at the thought that in a few minutes, with the aid of his loyal navy, he would be in control of the situation once more, and the renegade Prince Yuri would be at his mercy.

But alas, his joy was short-lived. Horrors! Every ship was manned by ants!

Cabot’s hundred noticed this, too, just in time; for, even as they scattered, a bomb dropped from the point plane and exploded in their midst. Yuri was in control of the air. All was over.

It afterward transpired that while most of the personnel of the Cupian air navy had been on leave to attend the games at Kuana, it had been an easy matter for a handful of supporters of the renegade prince to seize Wautoosa, and to dispatch the planes at once to Formia to load them up with ant men. There were still living south of the pale enough members of the old ant air navy to pilot the entire fleet.

The return to Kuana from the stadium was devoid of further event, and the once glorious cabinet and generals of King Kew were soon safely locked up in the mangool.

Poblath the mango, Cabot’s old friend Poblath, presently appeared, having returned from the stadium. To Cabot’s surprise, Poblath gloated over him.

“Aha!” he exclaimed. “I have long awaited this day. You won Bthuh away from me, and then cast her aside. You thought that I had forgotten or forgiven, but you were mistaken. A Poblath never forgets nor forgives. ‘Forgiveness is the folly of weaklings, who would trade honor for peace.’”

Ever the philosopher!

Poblath continued: “Now I shall take away your electrical antennae, for this time the king will rule that this is lawful.”

He looked inquiringly at Yuri, who nodded in reply.

In permitting Poblath to remove Cabot’s radio set, the new king was violating one of the most solemn laws of the kingdom. It was unlawful to deprive any Cupian, or even Formian, of his antennae.

The origin of this rule was shrouded in antiquity. It was generally supposed that the rule was merely humanitarian, based upon the fact that it would be a most cruel and unusual punishment to make a deaf-mute out of a person, thus cutting him off from all communication with his fellow beings, except by pad and stylus. But a more probable explanation is that deprivation of antennae would be an incentive to crime of the worst sort, for a person who had been so treated was rendered immune from death in the Valley of the Howling Rocks, a punishment reserved solely for the worst criminals.

Once before, early in Cabot’s stay on Poros, Yuri had tried to take away his headset, but had been blocked by a ruling of King Kew. But now there was no one to say him nay.

Cabot was astounded, not at Yuri, but rather at Poblath. Was this the friend with whom Lilla and he had played ming-dah night after night? Had his friendship merely been a thing of expediency?

Cabot had once been Poblath’s friend, and then his enemy, and then his friend, and now his enemy again. Yuri had once been Poblath’s enemy, and was now his friend. Always Poblath had played in with the upper dog. It certainly looked as though he were a base opportunist, for all his philosophy.

As Myles formulated these cynical thoughts, Poblath’s eye, on the side farthest from King Yuri, closed slowly and flickered spasmodically. It was the American wink, which Cabot had taught him. The earthman began to understand.

Then Poblath stepped close and, just as he snatched the apparatus roughly from Cabot’s head, he radiated softly into Cabot’s antennae: “Your belongings will be safe in my office.”

Then Poblath withdrew, carefully carrying Cabot’s radio set, and leaving his assistant Trisp in charge. The captives were locked in cells, Hah Babbuh and Cabot together; and the new king departed, presumably to take charge of the palace from which he had been exiled so long. Poblath thoughtfully provided Myles with a stylus and some paper; for writing with one’s hands shackled behind one’s back was possible, although difficult.

The city remained comparatively quiet the rest of the day. Through the bars of the cell windows the prisoners could see down into the street below. All afternoon long, ant-fighters marched by, in detachments, on their way to the capitol. Gradually there were fewer and fewer Cupians to be seen in the open, as ant policemen took over the patrolling of the streets. Evidently Yuri did not trust even the faction which had put him in power. So Cupia soon came to realize what it means to be governed by a man who is at heart an ant.

And thus, all the rest of the day, Yuri consolidated his position as King of Cupia. The opposition, which even at its height had been merely sporadic, gradually died out to nearly nothing! It was amazing that the Cupians, after having so recently regained their freedom in a hard-fought war, should so easily let it slip through their fingers again with scarcely a struggle.

And yet were they to be blamed? For many generations, through five hundred years of servile peace, they had been the slaves of the ants; and, had it not been for the advent of Cabot the Minorian upon their planet, they never would have tasted even this brief two years of freedom.

All that they knew of warfare had been taught them as a game, under Cabot’s competent leadership. Leadership! That was the key to the situation. Leadership, and an ideal, a rallying point. In the great War of Liberation, Myles Cabot had furnished the leadership, and King Kew the Twelfth had furnished the rallying point with his now famous speech, which I always like to compare with Lincoln’s Gettysburg address. In fact, Cabot, too, had furnished the slogan with which that successful war had begun: “Forward into Formia, for Cupia, King Kew and Princess Lilla!”

Now, Kew lay dead in the stadium with a bullet through his loyal and sturdy heart. Lilla, their beloved Princess, was a thousand stads away to the northward. And Cabot the Minorian lay shackled in jail, deprived of his wonderful electrical headset, without which he was a mere deaf and dumb earthbeast, with no means to hold communication with his fellows, and in fact with no claim to being even human.

On the throne sat a prince of the royal house, the elder son of the sister of the late king. Apparently he was the rightful ruler of the Cupians. And if their rightful ruler chose to bring with him the domination of the ant men, it was too bad, but what could they do about it?

True, the Assembly had cancelled Yuri’s succession to the throne and had bestowed it upon his younger brother, the loyal Prince Toron; but most of the populace doubted the legality of that move. Besides, Yuri was now on the throne. Possession was nine points of the law; and the Cupians, by five hundred years of slavery, had been trained to be great respecters of authority.

If Toron would but appear and contest the succession, there might be those who would rally to his standard. But where was he? He had been at the games in the stadium that morning, but no one had seen him since the assassination. Where was he now? A fugitive, with a price set on his head! It is hard to rally around a fugitive, especially when his whereabouts are unknown.

So Kuana rapidly subsided into quiescence. What might be going on in the rest of the kingdom could not be known; but, as for the capital, that appeared to be Yuri’s.

Just before sunset, however, there came a sudden change in the atmosphere. Firing recommenced. Some of the yellow flags were torn down, and replaced with red. Some Cupians sallied from the house across the road from the jail, assaulted an ant policeman, and threw up a barricade extending from one side of the road to the other.

Thereat there was much running around in the corridors of the jail, and hurried conferences between the wardens, all of which the captives could see through the gratings of the cell doors.

“What is it all about?” Cabot wrote on the paper.

And his cellmate wrote back: “I can’t understand it. They are shouting: ‘Long live King Kew!’”

What could it mean? King Kew was dead. They had seen him lying there in the stadium with the blood pouring out of a gaping hole in his right breast. And yet now the populace were shouting: “Long live King Kew.”

What could it mean?