The Metal Monster (5 page)

Then, one day, I was startled by the familiar sound of a girl’s voice behind me!

“Senor!”

IT was Dolores Monteiro who had called to me. She was wearing the coarse slave apron, but even in this rough garment she was ravishingly beautiful. My heart stood still as I looked down into her eyes for a moment, scarcely realizing that the object of my long quest stood before me.

“Senorita!” I exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“And I for you,” she replied. “When were you sent here?”

“That first day,” I answered. “And you ?”

“Shortly after you left me standing before Zet,” she replied. “But this is an immense place—almost a city.”

“Then Zet did not harm you?”

“No,” she replied, “but I will never forget the feel of his cold, slimy hands on me.” She shuddered at the memory. “It was nauseating. Ugh!”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “But didn’t he do or say anything else?”

She answered me, almost in a whisper.

“That is the reason I had to find you. He did say something else, and ordered me not to tell. To disobey him is death, they say, but I must confide in you.”

“Don’t say it,” I warned her.

“But I must. There is a reason. He said I would be sent away with the other slaves for the time being, to learn to work and to become accustomed to the ways of his people. But he said, also, that he would give positive orders that I should not be harmed, for someday soon he would honor me by sending for me.”

“You mean-”

She nodded despairingly.

“I should kill myself at the first opportunity, of course, but I wanted to find you first—to tell you, the one person I know and can trust in this horrible place, so that if you live and some day meet my father and mother you can tell them the truth. They might otherwise think that I—that I went willingly. And there is no hope of escape. So you see why I had to tell you.”

“ ‘While there is life there is hope,’ ” I quoted. “Don’t give up. Will you meet me at this spot after the work period ?”

The call to work sounded as I spoke.

“I’ll be here,” she replied, and hurried away.

Some moments later I sat down at my work table, my senses in a whirl. My electrodes lay untouched before me, until a searing pain on my bare shoulder and the smell of my own burning flesh brought me to a realization of my surrroundings.

“To work, quickly!” snarled my overseer, “or there will be a worse burn.”

I snatched the electrodes, and with my shoulder smarting from the touch of the red hot rod started my Tek at its apparently endless task of shoveling white ore.

The young naval lieutenant, whose alert, snapping, black eyes missed very little, saw my punishment and forgot, for a moment, to watch his globe. During that moment I saw his Tek topple from the platform on which it was working and fall into the pit.

With an angry roar the overseer seared the lieutenant’s back.

“Dolt!” he thundered. “Get that Tek up at once, or I’ll burn you to a crisp.”

What happened after that took place so quickly that it was all over in less than a minute.

With a roar as angry as that of the overseer the peppery young lieutenant dropped his electrodes, stood erect, and sprang at the throat of his tormenter. So quick and unexpected was the attack that he was almost upon the astonished overseer before the latter realized what had happened.

Snatching his paralyzing ray cylinder from his belt, the Snal pointed it at the lieutenant, freezing him in his tracks. Then he stepped back and with a fiendish grin at his helpless victim thrust the red hot point through the brave lad’s heart. Withdrawing it deliberately, he shut off the paralyzing ray, permitting the body to slump to the floor.

This exhibition of cruelty so filled me with rage and revulsion that I was tempted to hurl my globe at the Snal’s head, and follow the throw with an attack. But the thought of Dolores deterred me. She would be waiting for me—expecting me to meet and help her.

Another slave was thrust into the lieutenant’s place, and his body was carried out by two Teks.

“Take heed, slaves, from the death of your fellow,” said the overseer, “and rebel not against authority lest you share his fate.”

Dolores met me at the beginning of the rest period, and we went together for our food and water, then sat down on the stone floor to eat.

Before we had finished eating, a number of Teks came in, bearing the sections of a huge metal screen, which they welded smoothly together and set up in the middle of the floor. Several Snals came a short time thereafter, and connected it with a complicated-appearing machine, while the slaves flocked curiously around.

When their work was finished, a life size image appeared on the screen. It was Zet, ruler of the nether world, his emerald diadem sparkling above his slimy features.

He began to speak and every voice was hushed. To me, he seemed to be speaking English. Dolores told me afterward that she thought he was speaking Spanish. And a Misskito Indian I later interrogated was positive the great “Glass Face” had spoken his native dialect.

Zet told us that the screen had been installed for our entertainment and information, and that, through it, he would keep us constantly posted on the progress of his conquest of the world. We would thus be made to realize, he said, how hopeless it would be for us to rebel against the fate which nature had intended for us—that of serving the Snals, who were as superior to us as we were to the beasts we had domesticated. He ended by promising that those of us who served faithfully and well would be rewarded later, when his empire was established, by easier work and positions of power among our fellows.

Zet’s image faded from the screen. It was followed by that of another Snal—a short, stocky individual, whose ornaments were richly powdered with jewels.

“I am the Voice,” he said. “ I speak for Zet, Lord of the Inner and Outer Worlds. Behold the progress of his conquests.”

THE image faded and a large map of the Americas appeared on the screen,

“The portions marked in green are under the dominion of Zet,” said the Voice. “He moves slowly but surely, taking what he wants when he wants it.”

From the northern border of Mexico, through Central America, Colombia, Ecuador and Venezuela, the map was shaded green! And all this in thirty days!

The map faded, and in its place we were shown moving pictures in full color. Managua, rebuilt capital of Nicaragua, was shown first. In the heart of the city rose an immense metal dome—shiny and incongruous, like some false growth appearing on the fair body of the earth. We were shown a glimpse of an inner room of the great dome. President Monteiro and his staff were here, guarded by Teks and bullied by an armored Snal who seemed to be Zet’s vice-regent of the nation. There were other, flatter domes near the outskirts of the city. Beneath these, beds of slime mould had been planted. They were being tended by human slaves, and fed both with the bodies of men and domestic animals. Just outside this ring was another, in which were taller domes like the one we were in—control buildings in which human slaves toiled with their minds, that the Teks might work the will of their Snal masters.

We saw flashes of other capitals, each with its great shining dome centrally located, and its encircling rings of metal-covered slime mould beds and control buildings. Bogota, Caracas, Quito, Mexico City, San Jose, San Salvador and the rest, all were under the yoke of the conquerors.

Teks rolled about the streets—swarmed everywhere, searching out human victims to be dragged before the conquering Snals, who remained in their huge metal buildings or in the flying globes. Tiny Teks no larger than pin heads spied on the people unseen. Conspirators against the tyranny were thus quickly detected, captured and fed to the plasmodia.

We were shown the northern battle front, where the United States had stretched a huge army from gulf to ocean to protect its territory. It was not a battle, but a farce, in which the Teks were sent out at will of the controlling Snals, to drag men from the trenches, the tanks, or the decks and cabins of aircraft, and whirl them away in the flying globes, against which the most powerful weapons of the world were powerless. New weapons were being tried— oxy-acetylene flame-throwers —that would cut through steel plates as if they had been paper— bombs, loaded both with nitric and sulphuric acids, in the hope that these might prevail against the obstinate metal. But they had no more effect on it than water has on glass.

Some of these things we saw. Some were told to us by the Voice. But I do not think there was a man or woman in the building who was not convinced of the truth of all of them, and the utter hopelessness of our situation. Man’s knell of doom had sounded. His place in the sun was being slowly but surely wrested from him by these slimy intelligences of the nether world.

The South American republics had also extended a great defensive line across their continent. But it was even less of an obstruction to the conquerors than that of the United States.

After each work and sleep period, Dolores and I met at the same spot. We would eat our block porridge together, then go and stand in front of the screen to learn the latest news of the earth’s conquest.

In another thirty days the southern half of the United States and more than half of South America were under the sway of the Snals. The opposing armies had been completely routed, and most of their field equipment destroyed. Our screen was tuned in with exploring globes flying over the areas as yet unconquered. And they showed people fleeing northward in every means of conveyance at their disposal. Canada swarmed with refugees. Air- and water-liners loaded to capacity were leaving for Europe, Africa and Asia. And the advance of the metal menace continued steadily, relentlessly.

Dolores came to mean much to me—more than the whole world. I had never told her, had not more than touched her hand. But she could do more with her eyes than can most girls with arms and lips.

It was because of the hopelessness of our situation that I did not speak to her of love or marriage. I suspected, however, that she knew of my love, and dared to hope that she returned it.

I always looked forward to my meetings with her as the only bright spots in this career of mental drudgery. Like those of the other slaves, my brain was being turned into a machine to work the will of the Snals. And it might have become as dulled and listless as did the others had it not been for her bright companionship.

During those first two months the Snal overseers began to select women from among the slaves to share their quarters with them. Each overseer had a private apartment, jutting out from the outer wall of the building at its base. These apartments were set at intervals, clear around the building, and where their round doors were placed, no sleeping cylinders were piled. Some went fearfully, under the threat of the red hot torture rods. But many preferred to die in agony.

A number of overseers had asked for Dolores—my own, a tall fellow named Lak, among them. But the head overseer had his orders. She was to be saved for Zet until such time as the ruler should send for her, unless- Every overseer knew that she had been commanded to keep this secret from the other slaves—that if she disobeyed, death would be the penalty. And each overseer combined in his person, the powers of judge, jury and executioner.

Many times I noticed Lak watching us furtively when we were together. Once I turned, and saw him standing close behind us as we watched the news screen. But even then, I did not guess his purpose.

It was, when I had computed that about two months of earth time had passed, that I eagerly sought our rendezvous after a work period, but Dolores was not there. I waited more than ten minutes, but she did not put in an appearance. Then I noticed a Misskito Indian, seated nearby licking his porridge—smudged fingers and eyeing me significantly.

“You look for white senorita?” he asked.

“Yes. Have you seen her?”

“In there,” was the laconic answer. He pointed with his porridge-smeared thumb to the door of Lak’s apartment

I LOOKED cautiously about me. None of the Snals seemed to be watching my movements. Endeavoring to appear unconcerned, I walked slowly toward the door of Lak’s apartment. It took less than a minute to reach the edge of the pile of sleeping cylinders. Again I glanced slowly around. So far as I could see, neither Snal nor slave was paying any attention to my movements.

Dodging into the passageway between the piles of cylinders, I tiptoed to the door. It was closed, but gave when I tried the fastening. I opened it cautiously for a little way, Lak was standing with his back to me, holding Dolores by her shoulders. Neither could see me.

Entering soundlessly, I closed the door.

Lak was saying:

“You have earned death, slave-girl, but I can save you. Only I heard you tell the secret of Zet to the slave-man. You must make your choice now—your life or the love of Lak.”

I had heard more than enough. With a single bound, I stood beside them. Seizing the armored shoulder of the Snal, I spun him half around.

His burning rod stood in a rack, but his chopper and paralyzing ray cylinder still hung from his belt. With a grunt of surprise and anger, he grabbed for the latter. But his visor was up and I swung for his face.

The result was astounding—and sickening. My arm was buried, half way up to my elbow in his great round head. My fist had crashed through his nose and the frontal bones of his face, clear into his, huge, mushy brain.

With a feeling of intense disgust, I withdrew my arm, and the metal-clad body clanked to the floor. As best I could, I cleaned the slime from my arm with a coverlet dragged from Lak’s luxurious sleeping cylinder.

Dolores, who had bravely faced her persecutor to the end, now collapsed, with her face in her hands, and began weeping softly. I was about to try to comfort her, when I noticed something sputtering on the floor at her feet. Puzzled, I bent forward to investigate. A great tear trickled down between her fingers—fell to the metal floor. And where it struck, the sputtering commenced anew, while beneath it a patch of white crystals was forming.