Part 19 (1/2)

Poised in mid-air, almost exactly in the center of the huge globular room, was a metal globe of some thirty feet in diameter. It was held, not by any solid girders, but by four narrow beams of light which mounted to it from widespread points of the convex room.

Upon the entire surface of this thirty-foot globe, a group of masters were seated, in little, cup-like seats upon resilient stems. They swayed and nodded with movement. There seemed to be glowing wires and grids and thread-like beams of light carrying current. Light-threads shot from the mechanisms to the heads of the seated brains. All the devices were evidently in operation; and upon this poised central globe the attention of the audience was directed.

Molo bent over me. ”The Great Intelligence soon will see you.”

Snap, from the other side of Molo, whispered: ”What are they doing up there?”

The faint hiss and throb of the devices were audible. I stared, trying to understand. Images, and sounds, invisible and inaudible were being received from across the millions of miles of s.p.a.ce, and they were being trans.m.u.ted within the brains themselves. I saw that discs were fastened upon the bulging foreheads of the brains, upon which the tiny light-beams carrying the vibrations impinged.

These brains, receiving ”waves” of some unknown variety were, within the mechanism of the brain-cell, trans.m.u.ting, translating the vibrations into things knowable. They were not seeing, not hearing, but _knowing_ what went on millions of miles across s.p.a.ce!

Again Molo bent over me. ”They are about to show this audience what is happening on the three worlds.”

Upon the thirty-foot globe I saw now a dozen or so b.a.l.l.s of about three-foot diameter. These had been dark and I had not noticed them.

Now they began glowing, not from wires carrying the current, but from the little hands of the brains touching them.

I stared at the brain nearest me. His flabby little arm was extended; his hand touched the image-ball; gave it light and color, like a fortune-teller of Earth with a crystal before her.

Even though I was some sixty feet from it, I could see the moving images clearly, and recognized the scene. The Tappan Interplanetary Stage. s.h.i.+ps were rising; two of our s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps mounting.

And all in an instant the scene blurred, took form again. The red-green spires and minarets of Ferrok-Shahn. The Central Ca.n.a.l extended like a gash across the foreground; the ”Mushroom Mountains”

were in a line upon the horizon. Three Martian s.p.a.ce-flyers slid up while we watched.

And now Grebhar. The silver forest in all its s.h.i.+ning beauty, where Venza was born. The sunlight sparkled on the river. A s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p was rising in the distant sky over the s.h.i.+ning forest.

Beyond Anita, I heard Venza murmuring, ”Home! If only we were there.”

I could feel Anita move to silence her.

Molo was whispering: ”They come. But we will be ready for them.”

Another image: mid-s.p.a.ce. The allied s.h.i.+ps gathering, waiting for others to arrive. A group here of about ten of our s.h.i.+ps from the three worlds: poised, waiting.

I was aware that upon the mound-like protuberance of the room-floor where we were sitting, a door was opening. It slid, or melted away. At our feet was an opening downward into the small interior of the mound.

Molo whispered, ”The great Master. Sit quiet! He will talk to us.”

Over us now a barrage came with a hiss, a circular curtain of insulation. The huge globular room faded. We were alone on the mound, Snap, Molo, myself, Anita, Venza and Meka upon the end of our bench.

Behind us stood our single Wandlite guard, with a weapon in his shoulder hand.

At our feet an opening yawned into the mound-interior. It was a tiny, lighted room. In a cup-like seat a brain was perched, just below the level of our feet: the great Master Brain of Wandl. He was alone here.

Not attended by retinue; no pomp and ceremony to usher us into his presence; no underlings obsequiously bowing to mark him for a great ruler.

We stared down, and the great brain stared up at us, seemingly equally curious. His head was a full four feet in diameter; the little body sat in the cup, with dangling legs. The clothes were ornamented: there was a glowing device on the chest.

He spoke with a measured rumble, in Martian. ”You are Molo, of Ferrok-Shahn.”

”Yes,” said Molo.