IT WAS a picturesque procession that started for Reabon shortly after midnight. Destho’s two-score motor vehicles and a number of carts had been pressed into use. All were equipped with bright searchlights, fore and aft, that lighted the road and reflected brilliantly from the armor and weapons of the marching men.
Grandon rode in the lead with Bordeen and Joto, commanders of the two armies whose victory had turned to defeat by the laws of the empire. Princess Vernia and Rotha followed in the car immediately behind them.
The Earthman rode in moody silence, nor did his two companions interrupt his thoughts. As the motors were throttled down to conform to the speed of the marching men, their progress was quite slow. Morning found them a good half day’s march from the capital.
Grandon was startled by a sudden cry from the driver. At the same time their vehicle came to a full stop, and shouts of wonder and alarm echoed from without. He drew his scarbo, and leaped from the car. To his surprise he beheld a huge ball, more than fifty feet in diameter, blocking the road. Many of the soldiers, as well as occupants of the other cars were running toward it.
“What is that thing?” he asked a young Travek.
“I do not know, your majesty,” the man replied. “They who first saw it say it fell from the sky.”
Grandon approached the globe and examined it curiously. It appeared to be constructed of a metal similar to asbestos, criss-crossed with a network of wires. Near the center of the side he faced was a circle of metal that suggested aluminum.
The circle began to turn, and a murmur of surprise went up from the watchers.
Grandon’s first thought was that a spaceship from Earth had reached Venus—but an instant’s reflection made him reject this solution. Earth was probably not even a habitable planet now, and might not become so for millennia to come. Could this be from Mars, which also had a scientific culture now?
The circle was revolving more quickly now, and projecting from the sphere. Vernia came up beside the Earthman, Rotha following her. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. It may be some new implement of war. You had best go back into the car until we find out.” She complied quite meekly, he thought, as he turned to the soldiers and ordered them to stand back a hundred yards or so.
Now a screwlike cylinder projected from the globe for more than five feet. He could plainly see the threaded sides as it hung there, twenty-five feet above his head. It fell forward with a loud click and hung suspended by a thick hinge, disclosing a dark hole. From this hole, a ladder of flexible material dropped, one end nearly touching the ground.
Now the figure of a man in a spacesuit clearly similar to American design appeared and clambered down the ladder. He stood there a moment, looking at Grandon, then removed his helmet, and the Earthman recognized the features of Dr. Morgan.
“How are you, my boy?” he asked cordially.
Grandon snapped his fingers and grinned back. “You built another space-time vehicle, I see, Doctor—or did Vorn Vangal do it?”
Morgan smiled. “I wondered if you would remember. This is Vorn Vangal’s work, operated by telekinesis like the Olban airships. Watch.”
Even as he spoke, the huge globe moved upward from its resting place and hovered a hundred feet above their heads. “Suppose we climb into that vehicle of yours and I’ll tell you the news while we ride to Reabon.”
Grandon’s reply was interrupted by a cry from several of the men and saw that they were looking to the westward; he turned to behold a huge fleet of Olban airships bearing down on them. The ships were many times larger than the Olban craft he’d seen, but were constructed on the same general principles. Each airship had ten shining glass cabs and bristled with mattorks, projecting fore and aft, on both sides and below.
The fleet came to a dead stop above them. Then one airship descended to the spot where the globe of Dr. Morgan had rested a moment before, and a set of aluminum stairs which had been telescoped on the deck was elongated and flung over the side, reaching to the ground.
Two men descended. The foremost was clad in scarlet apparel, trimmed with gold and glittering with precious jewels. His feet were encased in sandals of the softest frella hide, and he wore a turbanlike headpiece, also of scarlet ornamented with gold fringe, and set with an enormous glittering ruby that blazed from the middle of his forehead. His companion was more soberly garbed in purple trimmed with silver and also ornamented with jewels.
Grandon recognized the handsome, smooth-shaven youth in scarlet as “Harry Thorne”—actually, the Martian, Borgen Takkor, who had followed him to Venus. The man in purple was Vorn Vangal. At the same moment Thorne saw the doctor and ran forward, embracing him with a glad cry of recognition. He greeted Grandon with a warm hand-clasp.
It was not necessary to introduce Dr. Morgan and Vorn Vangal.
“Where is this beautiful princess of yours, Grandon?” asked Dr. Morgan. “I am anxious to meet her.”
“And I also,” supplemented Thorne, “though there is a certain princess back in Olba whose beauty I have not seen matched on three planets.”
“I think,” smiled Vorn Vangal, “you will find that opinions are quite likely to vary on such things as the beauty of a woman.”
Grandon could not find the heart to reply.
“What ails you, man?” asked Thorne. “You look as if Vangal here had just pronounced sentence of death on you.”
“Buck up, my boy,” said Dr. Morgan. “You haven’t lost her yet.”
“Haven’t lost her? Didn’t she sign a marriage decree making Destho her husband and Emperor of Reabon?”
He led them to Vernia’s vehicle. She received them graciously, with all the dignity and poise of a born princess.
“And now,” said the doctor when the presentation was concluded, “where are Bordeen and Joto?”
“What do you know about Bordeen and Joto?” asked Grandon in surprise.
“You forget that I have been in telepathic rapport with you up to the moment I landed,” replied the doctor. “I have broken rapport now because it is unnecessary.”
They found Bordeen and Joto with several of the captains, examining the Olban airship, while members of the crew eyed them rather suspiciously from the deck above.
Introductions over, Harry Thorne invited them aboard. “Ride with me to Reabon,” he said. “We have every comfort and convenience and plenty of room for all.”
He led them up the aluminum steps and along the deck to the foremost glass cab. Bordeen called down to his captains to resume the march, and the ship rose majestically as they entered the snug, glass-inclosed room, with its luxurious cushioned seats and thickly carpeted floor.
When all were seated a slave brought them steaming liquor in golden cups. “And now that we are all assembled,” said Harry Thorne, “I should like to ask Grandon why we are going to Reabon and what we are supposed to do when we get there.”
Grandon drained his cup and handed it to a waiting servant.
“The Princess of Reabon has been compelled to sign away her fortune and her hand. Speaking for myself and my Fighting Traveks, we go as her escort, to do her bidding no matter what may arise. To me it is almost inconceivable that she will meekly submit to Destho; yet if that be her intention, neither I nor any of my men will raise a hand to stay her. If, on the other hand, she should, at the last moment, decide to free herself from Destho and regain her lost throne, we will be ready to fight for her to the last man.”
“You have spoken for the warriors of Granterra and their commander as well,” said Joto.
“And for the Imperial Air Patrol of Olba, if I and my men may be included,” declared Harry Thorne.
“It seems,” said the doctor smiling, “that the princess does not lack allies. As to whether she will call on any of you or not—who can say? A woman’s mind . . . ”
“Is past understanding for any man, on this planet or another,” interrupted Vorn Vangal. “However, I do not believe she will call for assistance. That proclamation, once signed, is binding alike on herself and her subjects. She might nullify any ordinary proclamation by issuing another, but in this case such a proceeding is quite impossible. She has named another to rule over her and her subjects; he, and he alone, can now nullify the proclamation.”
“In that case,” said Joto, “there might be ways of persuading him.”
“A worthy suggestion, Joto” proceeded Bordeen, “but hardly practical; we cannot cope with the mighty armies of Reabon for any long period of time. The army of Reabon is the largest and best equipped in all Zarovia, and her soldiers know not the meaning of fear. Should Vernia decide on a revolt against the new emperor we could undoubtedly get her out of the country alive—a revolt against the emperor would make her a traitor and an outcast. Under the constitution of Reabon, which has prevailed for ages, she could never hope to regain her throne and scepter. When we reach Reabon she must choose between freedom as an outcast from her country forever, or the half of her throne which the proclamation still allows her, and virtual slavery to her emperor.”
“Vorn Vangal speaks the truth,” said Bordeen slowly, “for well do I know the unchanging laws of Reabon and the regard in which they are held by every subject of the empire.”
“In that case,” said Dr. Morgan, “it seems that further discussion of the problem is futile. It rests with her majesty to choose, and with us to act only when she has made her decision.”
“Quite right,” agreed Thorne. “And now that the subject has been dispensed with for the present, Doctor, suppose you tell us a few things I have been itching to find out ever since I received your telepathic summons to meet you here, through Vorn Vangal. You have had quite an advantage over Grandon and me, you know, being cognizant of our every moment since we left the Earth, while we know nothing of what you have done since we last saw you.”
“As we are nearing Reabon I will only touch on a few points that may be of interest to you,” said the doctor. “Both of you will be surprised to know that the Zarovian men who exchanged bodies with you have committed suicide, destroying your Earth bodies by leaping from a precipice. I did not communicate the reason to you, but it will become apparent from what I am about to relate.
“The Olban prince whom you represent, Thorne, and Prince Thaddor knew something of the exploits of both of you on this planet. The former became despondent while the latter grew insanely jealous of Grandon. They formed a suicide pact, and stole away together one moonlight night to carry it out. Their—or more exactly, your—mangled bodies were found the next morning at the foot of the cliff.”
Morgan sighed. “In a few days I start my return journey to Earth. I will be happy to have either or both of you join me if you care to do so, though I fancy that Harry Thorne will not care to leave, and that Grandon’s decision to go or stay will depend on what takes place in Reabon today. When I am ready to start I will let you know, and you will have until then to make up your minds.”
“Mine is made up right now,” said Thorne. “You couldn’t drive me away from this planet with a pack of man-eating hahoes. There’s a little girl back in Olba . . . ”
“Tell us about her, and some of your adventures,” said Grandon.
They were interrupted by a call from the lookout. Thorne stepped out for a moment—then returned. “My story will have to wait,” he said, “for we have arrived in Reabon.”