But such details were trivial in dealing with the world of mortals. The burning thought before them was the coming battle to save civilization from the merciless hands of the Three Eternals.
Arriving in Sol City, they hastened to York’s space ship, parked in a drome. Once Inside, York drew his first easy breath in all those days. He sailed the ship out of the drome, up into the sky. Motioning Vera to the controls, he told her to set a course for the South Pacific, while he set down from memory the data of his subterranean exploration of geological stresses.
“The first thing to do is explode the key island that will counteract the rise of Atlantis and Mu,” he said “After that, we will reckon with the Eternals.”
Kaligor nodded, his manner charged with anticipation of soon facing the Three who had thought to bury him for all eternity.
Vera was thoughtful. “I wonder why they haven’t probed for us in the past few hours,” she murmured, quizzically.
“Tony, it’s ominous.”
They knew the answer a few hours later, as they slanted down toward the tiny atoll that must be blasted. There, waiting for them, glinting in the sunlight, was a greenish-hulled ovoid ship.
“The Eternals!” gasped Vera.
York stopped his ship and snapped on his electro-protective screen, expecting immediate battle. But instead, the clear telepathic voice of the Three Eternals sounded.
“So, Anton York, you managed to escape your rockbound prison. We again deplore our underestimation of you. How did you do it?”
York was silent.
“No matter,” came the unruffled tele-voice. “After detecting you with our mental probe, in Australia, and failing to pick you up again, we came here, knowing this would be your destination. We have one thing to thank you for—you have made things interesting for us, lightening our age-long ennui. If only you could oppose us further, give us a stirring fight, we would be grateful for the diversion!”
Mockery? Not exactly, it came to York. There was a core of sincerity behind the ironic words.
The Eternals went on. “But, of course, you cannot oppose us: Our twenty thousand years of science will crush your two thousand. We—” The psychic voice stiffened a little. “There is a third person, or mind, aboard your ship. Who—”
Kaligor’s flexible body had been trembling at this time, listening to the words of his ancient, bitter enemies. Now he took an unnecessary step forward.
“It is I, Kaligor!” boomed out the Muan’s tele-voice. “Do you remember me?”
“Kaligor!”
It was a startled chorus from all three Eternals. A moment later a queer ultralight flicked into the cabin, from the other ship. It moved about and finally centred on the robot. Like a detached eye, it roved up and down his body, and it seemed to express amazed bewilderment.
Finally the Eternals broke their shocked silence.
“Yes, it is you, Kaligor. Our tele-eye shows you on our screen. It cannot lie. You were freed by Anton York?”
Taking evident delight in the telling, Kaligor briefly recounted his rescue.
“Thus I face you again, Three Eternals, like a ghost from the past!” he challenged.
“Kaligor—with Anton York!” The involuntary thought of one of the. Eternals, barely perceptible, was a betrayal, as though the combination struck fear. Then hastily: “But no matter. We are about to destroy your ship, and you, Anton York. Kaligor, though indestructible, you will fall to the bottom of the sea. We will capture you again, seal you at the center of Earth perhaps, where no one will blunder in to set you free. You will lie there, spinning your endless dream further, while up here we will snuff out this Mu-spawn civilization and build the second Adantide era.”
“You are senile, mentally if not physically,” taunted Kaligor. “Atlantis, and all it stood for, are things of the past. Muan principles and culture will endure. I, Kaligor, say it and—”
At that moment, the Three Eternals opened fire. A sound—less blast of energy sprang against York’s electro-screen. The screen held, but succeeding blasts began to send a warning needle higher and higher toward the red danger mark of penetration. One touch of the disintegration beam on the hull and the ship would fall together like a rotten gourd.
York wasted no time firing back, remembering the last encounter where his gamma-sonic weapon had been so ineffective. He fled toward open space, before they brought their paralysis beam to bear.
“Fool!” he cursed himself. “I should have suspected they’d be waiting here. We should have thought of armament first.”
Up the ship arrowed. In free space, York tried his best acceleration, but the green ship of the Eternals clung on the trail relentlessly and drew steadily closer. Any principle of super-velocity York had discovered in his two thousand years of research must be known to the Eternals. And more.
“Tony, what can we do?” Vera moaned.
“Kaligor!” York appealed, in turn. “Can you think of anything?”
There was no answer from the robot, slumped in a corner of the cabin.
“Kaligor!” yelled York frantically.
The Muan started, raised his faceless head.
“What? Is that you, Binti? No—no—what am I saying? Her name is Vera York! What is this world? Tell me. I’m confused.”
“Earth, Kaligor!” groaned York. “Come out of your dream world. The Three Eternals—”
A flash of blinding light, as the enemy’s gas-ray rammed into, their screen, brought Kaligor to full awareness.
“The brain wave, York! Use that. Command their screen to fall away!”
York tried it, wondering how he had stupidly failed to think of it himself. Vera took the controls. York stared fixedly out at the enemy ship, concentrating. He threw every ounce of his brain power into the mental command for the Eternal& protective screen to break down, then fired his gamma-sonic weapon.
But the telekinetic force that had moulded hard stone like putty failed to crush the super-powerful screen of the Eternals. It was pure energy battling pure energy, again. The only noticeable effect was that the green ship fell back for an instant, as though it had struck something.
York tried again and again, his mind reeled with the draining effort. Each time the enemy ship faltered a little, but its screen held. Staggering, York slipped the brain wave concentrator out of his ear and handed it to Kaligor.
“You try it!” he gasped.
Kaligor held the tiny instrument before his forehead. York and Vera could not see on his featureless face the mental concentration brought to bear, but the ship of the Eternals bounced back a minute later after each repeated blow of telekinetic force.
“Their screen is adamant,” said Kaligor. “They’ll win out in the end, unless—”
Rapidly, he outlined a plan. York nodded and waited tensely.
9
KALIGOR once more faced the oncoming ship, through the port window. York and Vera could almost feel the tremendous mental forces he was concentrating, second by second. Kaligor released a blast of telekinetic force, a minute later, that hurled the green ship back and back until it vanished in the blackness of space.
At the same time, as they had planned, York shot their ship sideward at a prodigious pace. Then, in successive arcs, he warped their course at a random angle to the last position.
“Enough!” barked Kaligor, five minutes later. “Shut off the motor, the screen, every generator—and close your minds!” Obeying, the three now drifted in a silent, dark ship as inert as any meteor in space. They felt the mental probe of the Eternals, trying to locate them, but an hour later it ceased. A broadcast telepathic voice rolled over them.
“You have escaped for the time being, Kaligor and Anton York,” admitted the Eternals. “But we have won. We will go back to Earth, and set up a headquarters on the very island you would have to destroy, to save the Muan civilization. We will wait, on guard. If you return, we will destroy you. When the ancient lands have arisen, and we have constructed Atlantide civilization, we will search you out, in whatever remote corner of the Universe—for the final reckoning!”