October 16, 2025 • 39 mins
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Daughters of Doom by H. B. Hickey. Beyond Ventura b
there was no life. There was nothing but one worn
out sun after another, each with its retinue of cold
planets and its trail of dark asteroids. At least that
was what the books showed, and the books had been
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written by men who knew their business. Yet, despite the
books and the men who had written them, Ben Sessions
went past Venturabe, deliberately and all alone, and knowing that
the odds were against his returning alive, he went because
of a file clerk's error. More correctly, he went as
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the final result of a chain of events which had
begun with the clerk's mistake. The clerk's name was Gilbert Wain,
and he worked at the Las Vegas Interplanetary Port. It
was Wain's job to put through the orders for routine
overhaul of interplanetary rockets. Usually Wain was quite efficient, but
even efficient men have bad days, and on one of
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those days, Wain had removed from the active list the
name of Astra instead of its sister ship, the Store.
In the very next morning, the Astra had been turned
over to maintenance. Maintenance asked no questions. It was that
department's job to take the ship apart, fix wo needed fixing,
and put it back together. Ten minutes later, Jacobs saw
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Armando Gomez was the mechanic detailed to check the rocket tubes. Gomez,
who always got that job because he was small and slender,
dutifully dropped his instruments into his overall pockets and crawled
into the left firing tube. Half an hour later, he
stuck his head out of the tube and yelled to Jacob's,
who was in charge of the job, amigh, how many
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hours this ship she got? Jacobs ran his finger down
a chart and discovered, to his surprise that the Astra
had only two hundred hours on its log since the
last overhaul. Ordinarily, a ship was checked each thousand hours.
He scratched his head, but decided that if operations wanted
the askt ratuned, it was none of his business, so
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he told Gomez not to ask useless questions and to
get back in the tube. Any One else but Gomez
would have obeyed orders and forgotten all about it. Ten
minutes later, Jacob saw Armando's head appear. Amigo Gomez shouted
how many hours? Two hundred? Jacobs shouted back, knowing he
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would have no peace until Gomez was answered, now get
to work. We ain't got all year. But Gomez was
out of the tube again in five minutes and yelling
for the foreman. What do you want now, Jacobs demanded.
He swung himself up on the catwalk beside Gomez. Something
very funny in here, amigo, Gomez replied, one plate. She
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is too clean, less work for you, Jacobs grunted, so
why complain? Nevertheless, he took a look at the plate,
which was near the mouth of the tube. It should
have been lightly encrusted with the oxides of rocket fuel. Instead,
it was only beginning to dull, in strange contrast to
its neighbors, which were welded to it. That is queer,
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Jacobs muttered, see as you say, amigo. Where Once Jacob's
interest was aroused, he was also not one to let
a matter drop. He told Gomez to work on another
tube while he consulted the front office. The front office
was not especially interested, but at Jacob's insistence, they called
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in a metallurgist. The metallurgist, whose name was Britain, was
fortunately a thorough young man. He ordered the plate removed
and sent to his laboratory for complete analysis. After that,
things happened fast. Britain scanned the analysis of the plate
and without hesitation, called in his superior who ordered a
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second test just to be safe, and then notified Washington.
Washington turned it over to Interplanetary Intelligence, of which Carson
was chief of staff. One week later, Ben Sessions stood
before Carson's desk. Sessions was only thirty five, but in
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his few years with Two Eyes, as the organization was known,
he had wrung up an enviable record. Tall, lithe, darkly handsome,
he was well liked by the men who worked with him.
At the moment, there was a puzzled frown on his face,
lengthening the line made by a scar which ran from
his forehead down the side of his nose. The scar
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was the result of a crash landing on Neptune. I
don't get it, sir, he said, A single plate from
a rocket tube. So what if it didn't oxidize? That
makes me feel much better. Carson smiled, an inner bitterness,
making that smile wry. I didn't get it either, he
went on. A mechanic named Gomez got it. A foreman
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named Jacob's got it. A labman named Britain got it.
But the chief of two Eyes missed the boat. I
feel swell about that. He rose suddenly and hammered his
fist on the desk. Every one of us in intelligence
ought to be cashiered. Take it easy, Ben cautioned, Ah,
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because of that plate. Carson slumped back into his chair. Yes,
and because we have failed in our duty. Our only
hope is that we may have time to make it up.
I'll give you the facts. Those tubes are made of virium.
But even viium developed scale. After next week it will
develop even more because next week we make the change
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over to the new fuel. If Wain had made his
mistake two weeks later, there would have been so much
deposit in the tubes that Gomez would not have noticed
the difference. Now, virium is one of the most standardized
products in the world, so Gomez was rightly astonished that
the tube didn't oxidize evenly. Jacob saw further, verium is
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the toughest metal we know of. If this piece was tougher,
it might be a discovery of major importance. So Britain
analyzed the plate. Now we get to the point, Session
sprinned Carson stabbed a finger at him, right, And the
point is that this one section of plate is not verium.
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In fact, it is a substance which we are positive
does not exist in our system. Wait a second, what
do you mean by a system? I mean every single
bit of matter that lies between here and Ventura B.
Maybe it's not a natural substance, not an element we
thought of that. It's an element, and one we know
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nothing of. Do you mind if I sit down, Sir
Ben asked subtenly. The enormity of the thing had struck him,
almost dazzling him with its implications. Carson laughed bitterly and
waved him to a chair, and then went on talking precisely, Ben,
The question is how did this strange substance get into
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the tube of an interplanetary rocket called the Astra. To
answer that, we checked on the ship. The Astra is
one of the few ships which have ever gone beyond
ventur abe. I almost expected to hear that session said.
It adds up, all right, doesn't it a foreign substance?
A foreign system? But this substance had been made into
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a plate. That means the work of intelligent beings who
took the Astra on that trip, Sessions asked his body
tense a licensed space explorer named Murchison. Two others went
with him, but he returned alone. Claims they fell into
a chasm, but no explorer has reported life beyond ventur Abe,
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Session said. Taking up the thread of thought, he whistled softly.
You must have been busy this last week. Busy is
no word for it. It's only three years since anyone
has been allowed to go outside our system for the
purpose of science. Interstellar Flight to granted permits to six
licensed explorers. All returned with charts showing only a desolate
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waste in our own quiet way. We have checked on
each of these six men, including Murchison, in the last week,
and and we discovered something very interesting. The six who
returned from beyond Ventura B were not the same six
who went. They are identical in every facial, bodily and
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mental characteristic, identical enough to fool even the families of
the lost explorers. But when we secretly photographed them with
infrared light, we found that their skins contained elements foreign
to our system. Ventura A and its sister star were
the twin beacons that marked the last outposts of the
Earth's system past them was only a trackless waste of
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interstellar space. Ben Sessions knew that the charts he carried
were probably worse than useless, were likely downright traps. He
and Carson had planned the trip. Carson had wanted to
send a fighting fleet, but Ben had opposed the idea.
Wain's mistake had led them to the uncovering of a
gigantic hoax, a hoax which could have only a sinister purpose.
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Somewhere in the void ahead were sentient beings. To send
a fleet would be to let them know that their
existence was suspected. Sessions let the automatic controls take over
while he examined the charts once more. They showed the
constellation which lay directly ahead, the one after that, and
then nothing for hundreds of millions of miles. Those first, too,
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reflected a tiny amount of light from Ventura Bee and
were visible through telescopes. Therefore would have created suspicion to
falsify their position past them. However, the blackness was too
intense to penetrate. The speed of the rocket ship increased,
atomic blast replaced those of the regular fuel. Sessions knew
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that an Earth measurement would have shown the ship to
have shrunk to half its size. Only light and the
Rodona beam, which protected the ship from collisions, could travel faster.
From now on, it was just a matter of luck.
Some one had pulled those six explorers out of space,
and Sessions was hoping the same thing would happen to him.
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On the third day it happened. He was sitting in
the pilot's chair watching the Radona chart before him. Most
of the chart was blank, only the upper right hand
corner showing a mass of black dots, which indicated a
planetary dispersal about a dead star. Sessions waited for the
Rodona beam to swing the ship leftward. Instead, the ship
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was curving in the direction of the dots. Ben's first
thought was that the beam had gone out of order,
and he switched to manual controls. No use. Despite all
his efforts, he was being carried toward those planets. Habit
made him shut off the tubes, why waist fuel. A
tight smile froze on his lips as his speed dropped
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twenty million miles, then lifted again as the ship by
passed a planet. With calm deliberation, Ben switched on the
camera he had installed before the flight and let it
record his course. As shown on the Radona chart. Only
one dot remained on the chart. It grew larger and
larger until it filled the entire screen. There was no
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longer any doubt as to the ship's destination, and as
if to add further proof, its speed dropped sharply. Ben
clicked the switch on the camera and removed a tiny
roll of microfilm. The roll fit snugly into the hollow cap,
which covered the stub of one of his molars. The
altitude indicator went on automatically, showed fifty thousand feet, then
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forty thousand, went down to hundreds. Ahead, there was only blackness.
Ben held his breath and waited for the crash. It
never came. Long after the ultimeter showed zero, the ship
still moved. Ben could think of only one explanation. He
was below the surface of the dark planet, and then
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he could think no more. The blackness seemed to filter
into the ship and into his mind. He awakens A voice,
said It was a pleasant voice, a feminine one, silky
and soothing. Ben Sessions sat up and said, ah. The
first thing he noticed was the light. No more darkness,
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but a light that came from nowhere. And yet was everywhere.
He was on some sort of couch in a huge
room with a vaulted ceiling. Shaking his head groggily, Ben
looked for the source of the silken voice. He was
alone in the room. His eyes ran down the length
of his body. The flash gun was gone from his belt.
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That was hardly unexpected. But the belt was gone too,
so were his clothes. He was clad in a loose
robe of shimmering white cloth. That meant he had been
unconscious for some time. How long Ben would have given
much to know. Suddenly he let out an unearthly moan
and threw his arms wide and rolled off the couch.
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He lay still. The silken voice was raised again, and
added to it was another, more masculine. Then a door
opened and two people stepped into the room. Ben sat
up and grinned at them, especially at the woman. I
thought that would get you, he said. It's not hospitable
to hide from your guest. Resourceful, isn't he. The woman
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raised her eyebrows in mock admiration. Her companion growled a
reply which Ben couldn't quite catch. They were an odd pair,
the woman towering well above ten feet but perfectly formed
her skin the color of pink marble. The man more
beast than human. The women of Saturn were as tall
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as she, Ben had time to think, but not nearly
as beautiful. Welcome to terrace Ben's sessions, she said. Her
smile was the smile of the serpent of Eden. You're
pretty resourceful yourself, Ben grinned he had carried no papers
except a blanket permit from interstellar flight. He wondered if
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the precaution he and Carson had taken would prove to
be in vain. The woman spoke again. Ben's Sessions, Graduate
of Neptune School of Rockets, born in Taos, New Mexico, Earth,
third of four children, unmarried, unattached at present, first position,
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co pilot Earth Vain Express. She seemed to be choosing
items at random from a memorized list. The exhibition was
intended to impress Ben, and it was succeeding more than that. However,
it was frightening. He held his breath as she neared
the end. Two years with interstellar communications, presently a Licen's
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Space Explorer, non affiliated, pretty good. Ben said it was
better than that. It was perfect, Only the end was wrong.
He and Carson had worked that out with the psychoanalyst.
The two of them had wanted to falsify the entire biography,
but the analyst had convinced them he was right. One
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lie I might attempt to pound into your very subconscious
by hypnotism. A dozen would be spread too thin. We
would leave holes under the type of electro analysis you
seem to think might be used on you. I can't
even promise one lie will hold up. Ben reminded himself
to recommend the man for honors if he ever got
back to Earth. He had certainly known his business, But
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then if he hadn't, he would not be working for
two eyes. Now that you've told me all about myself,
maybe you'll tell me what's going on, Ben said, one
of your compatriots can do that. The woman told him
her interest seemed suddenly to have waned. She said a
few words in a strange tongue to the man who
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stood at her side. He grunted, bowed, and advanced toward Ben.
Long arms covered with thick black hair reached out. Ben dodged,
you'll be sorry if you make him use force. The
woman said, nothing like trying. Ben told her. He avoided
another grab and stepped in and smashed his fist to
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the hairy man's jaw. He might as well have hit
a wall. Before Ben could strike another blow, he was
lifted from his feet by an upward slap that threatened
to tear loose one side of his face two Dazed
to resist, he felt bold, his wrists encircled by a
tremendous hand. The woman's voice rose sharply in a tone
of command. The corridor through which Ben's sessions was being
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led was thronged with people. There seemed to be three classes,
rosy scanned giantesses like his escort, men of his own
size but also with pink complexions, and the squat hairy men,
who appeared to be nothing more than slaves. It was
plain that women dominated the society, and from them Ben
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received curious but contemptuous glances. Any one of these amazons
would have been considered a beauty on earth, so regular
were their features, but they lacked an air of feminine softness. Instead,
cruelty lay thinly massed beneath the surface. At the end
of the long corridor, a huge door swung open, and
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Ben was led through it into an immense room. At
the far end of the room was a throne, and
on it a woman bend as well proportioned as the
others he had seen. She was half again as tall,
twice as beautiful. He could not contain a gasp of appreciation.
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Thick violet hair fell almost to her shoulders. Her skin
was luminous and flawless, her body breath taking more revealed
than concealed by a clinging gown of some filmy material.
At her breast flashed a single violet jewel, larger by
far than the famed sapphires of Uranus. I brought him
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as soon as he awakened, said the woman with Ben.
A malevolent stare from the woman on the throne rested
on Ben. It was unnecessary, she said, we have no
further need of him. Take him to the field. Wait
a minute, Ben snapped, you are addressing Arndas, queen of Terrace.
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He heard his escort say, I don't give a hoot.
He never finished the sentence. From behind, the hairy slaves
seized him, lifted him, and flung him bodily toward the doors.
The interview was over. They went for a while along
the same corridor, then turned off and followed a side
passage for a way, and led steadily downward to an
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arched opening, and threw that out of the building. Here, too,
the light was diffused, but much brighter. Ben had to
blink several times before he became adjusted to it. They
were standing in the center of a vast level plain,
apparently endless and roofless. For overhead there was no sky,
only an increasing intensity of light. Ranged in rows on
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the plain were thousands of space ships. Ben turned once
as they approached the first line of ships and saw
behind him the building from which he had just come.
It rose upward a single block of shining stone for
almost a mile. Alongside it were other buildings of the
same material, but none so large. Then Ben and his
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two escorts were past the first row of ships. His
eyes roved over them, trying to discover what armament they carried.
None was visible. Their firing tubes were much the same
as those of Earth design, but slightly smaller. His attention
was diverted from his study by a sudden disturbance. Aboard
the closest ship. The sound of an angry, feminine voice
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came clearly through an open porthole, and mingled with it
was a pleading, deeper tone. An instant later, a door
was flung open, and out of it came hurtling one
of the men of terrace. He hit the ground, rolled over,
and came to his knees facing the open door and
the giant woman who stood framed in it. That the
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man was pleading for his very life was obvious to Ben,
but it was equally plain that his pleas were having
no effect. The woman on the ship uttered a single
contemptuous word that cut the pleas short. On her face
was a sadistic anticipation such as Ben had never before seen. Slowly,
she raised a cylinder in her hand and pointed it
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at the man on the ground. From the cylinder came
a violet light, weak at first, but growing in intensity
as she pressed some sort of trigger. The man shrieked
in agony as light played on him. Then the smell
of burning flesh came to Ben's nostrils, and the shriek
became a single, high pitched scream, which choked off. Suddenly,
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Ben's escort laughed with ghoulish enjoyment, said something to the
woman in the doorway, and gestured at the charred body
on the ground. The violet light grew to blinding intensity.
A puff of smoke, and the body was gone. What
was that for? Ben, gasped his escort, smiled indulgently, and
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shot a question at the other woman. The reply was
a shrug of shoulders and a few short syllables. He
did something that displease her, she told Ben. At his
look of horror, she laughed again, apparently pleased to have
shocked him. He noticed as they went along that the
space ships decreased in size. Those in the first rows
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had been comparable to Earth's battle cruisers, those in the
last were one or two man jobs. His own ship,
the Rapier, was at the very end of the last line.
Beyond was a vast army of men, both rosy skinned
and hairy, at work on a gigantic excavation project. Great
power shovels scooped load after load of earth, but most
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of the work was being done by the men who
labored with primitive pick and shovel. Above the sound of
digging rose the sharp voices of the giant women of Terrace,
each with a battalion under her command. As far as
Ben's eyes could reach, men were digging at the ground.
He was hustling along to a point where a dirt
spattered group struggled with the metallic lining for the half
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mile hole it had excavated. At that point, his escort
turned him over to the woman who bossed that crew.
Ben saw in the hand of the overseer one of
the violet ray cylinders. Down there, she said, curtly, pointing
to where a small knot of men worked on a
terrace fifty feet below. They will tell you what to do.
Ben had found nothing strange in the fact that his
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escort had spoken English fluently. She had been present at
his electro analysis. But he doubted that all the women
of Terrors could have the same command of the language. Nevertheless,
he said nothing and clambered down the ladder to the
terrace beneath. Ben's unasked question was answered when he saw
the five faces turned up toward him earth Men. Even
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the grime that covered them could not hide that, And
there was added proof in their widening eyes. They were
sorry to see another earth Man captive, yet happy at
the sight of one of their own kind. Willing hands
helped Ben down from the bottom rung of the ladder.
We'd heard they had picked up another ship, one of
the men said, But we weren't sure the rumor was true.
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True enough, as you can see, I'm Ben's sessions. His
outstretched hand was grasped and shaken cordially. Names were flung
at him. Murchison, Davies, Kennard, Bannon, Murchison, Wait a second,
Ben said, I thought I heard Murchison twice. You did,
said the big raw boned man at whom he was staring.
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The first is my daughter, Sally. It was only then
that Ben noticed how small and slender was the figure
of the one next to Murchison. Even the girl's loose robe,
similar to that of the men, could not quite conceal
her femininity. Her hair was cut short, her hands toil hardened.
Carson didn't tell me, Ben muttered. He grinned at Murchison.
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I expected to find you and two assistants, but I
didn't know one would be your daughter. Spec did hope
glinted in five pairs of eyes above them. There was
a shouted command to get to work, and a cylinder
was waved threateningly. I'll explain as we go along, Ben said, hastily.
Show me what to do. Bannon, a short, thick set
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man with a mop of unruly black hair, shoved a
pair of tongs into Ben's hands and quickly explained how
to hold the rivets with which the group was working.
In effect, they were constructing a huge cylinder. Looking down,
Ben saw that it descended into the bowels of Terrace.
The others were pressing Ben for his explanation, but he
insisted that they tell their stories first. The same thing
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had happened to them as to him, within some thousands
of miles of Terrace. They had felt a force pull
them toward it. Then they had passed out and awakened
to find themselves prisoners. I know all that, Ben said,
But in all the time you've been here, you must
have found out a good deal. What goes on here?
Why are they taking the prisoner every one who approaches
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the planet? Why do they conceal its existence from our system?
Murchison paused between blows of his hammer as though to
wipe sweat from his brow. Since you seem in a hurry,
he said, I will tell it in brief. You are
in the center of a planet whose evil people are
engaged in one enterprise, the conquering and subjugating of our universe.
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I thought that might be it. Ben nodded, but subjugating
billions of people may prove tougher than they think. Their
intention is to reduce our populations so it can be
easily handled. And I can assure you that these women
are perfectly capable of slaughtering as many people as they
think necessary. They have both the means and the contempt
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for human life that such an undertaking requires. Ben hazarded
a guess this project is part of their preparation, the
final part. Since the surface of Terrace has a temperature
of absolute zero, it can only be reached from here
through a series of locks. What they are building now
are new locks big enough to handle their largest ships.
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As soon as that's done, they plan to attack any
idea when that will be about a week Earth time.
Murchison's shoulders sagged with despair. We've been racking our brains
for a way to stop them, but it's no use.
They're as clever as they are evil. They've even sent
doubles of each of us men to Earth to pave
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the way for the attack. I suppose you've seen your double. No,
then they haven't made one. You have to be awake
while it's being done. I suppose they didn't think it
necessary now that there's so little time left, less time
than I thought, Ben grunted, I'd better get moving. He
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tilted his head back and shouted to the woman above.
For a second time. Ben stood before Arndus, Queen of Terrace.
Her eyes pro him, trying to divine his thoughts. There
was anger in those eyes. If she detected a single
flaw in his story, it would mean Ben's death. More
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than that, it would mean disaster for Earth. He talked fast.
When we found that plate in the firing tube of
Murchison's ship, we knew he was lying. We figured he'd
discovered valuable deposits out here and was trying to keep
them secret. That was all. It's enough. Isn't it enough
for interplanetary intelligence to send me on this mission? Those
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false papers? I carried our proof that we suspected something,
And if I'm not back in the time we allowed,
they'll have our entire battle fleet out looking for me.
Very clever, Arndis smiled, But if you are trying to
frighten us, you are failing. The women of Terrace had
a high civilization before your Earth was born. We can
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do things you never dreamed of. At her command, Ben's
arms were seized and bound behind him. He was carried
flee into a room. Near By, a room filled with
a maze of scientific apparatus. On what appeared to be
an operating table, was a transparent shell, and beneath this
Ben was strapped through the shell. He saw one of
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the men of Terrace brought into the room and placed
in a similar position on another table. Wires were strung
between the two shells, and somewhere a machine began to hum.
The shells filled with a white vapor that lingered a
moment and then was gone. Although he had known what
was to happen, Ben could not control his amazement, for
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the man who came out of the other shell was
an exact replica of himself. Within minutes he saw the
other dressed in his own flying suit. You see how
simply we solved the problem, Arndus asked Ben. Sessions will
return to Earth and there will be no search. He
will report that he found nothing and request that he
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be allowed to try again. By that time we shall
be read ready to attack. Ben's arms had been untied,
and now he put his hand to his face, as
though to rub some tender spot. The move attracted no
undue attention. An instant later, he had two fingers inside
his mouth and was working loose the cap over his tooth.
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His next move took them completely by surprise. With a leap,
he was half way across the room and lunging for
his double. Ben brought the man down with a flying tackle,
and for seconds they wrestled on the floor. Then a
hairy hand tore Ben loose and he was hauled to
his feet. He had done little harm to the other.
Not quite fast enough, Arndace said. Within minutes he will
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be aboard the rapier and on his way. Her voice rose,
take this one back to the locks. Doesn't it ever
get dark here? Ben asked. He and Murchison and the
others had been allowed to come out of the tube
after what seemed hours of time. They sat now in
a tiny cell into which air came through slits in
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the wall. No, Murchison said, but Bannon has a good
watch and were able to keep track of time. Is
exactly six days and three hours since you were put
to work, Ben nodded thoughtfully. There was not much time left.
Work on the locks went on endlessly, and sooner than
he could have believed possible, they were being completed. Given
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enough slaves, he thought anything could be accomplished. Gluing his
eyes to one of the slits, he peered out. The
last of the giant gates was being installed. Their own
crew would have only one more shift before the job
was finished. Beyond the excavation, Ben could see the tower
from which the locks were controlled. Bannon, who had been
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in Terra's longest and who had managed to garner some information,
had explained their operation to Ben. I worked on the
new controls when they were being installed, he said, ranging
himself alongside Ben. They're fully automatic. There are five locks
in each tube between the interior and the surface of terrace.
How many ships did you say were kept at the tower?
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Ben asked about ten. They make inspection flights each day,
although nothing has ever gone wrong that I've heard of.
But the tubes and the locks are the only outlets
to the surface, and they watched them carefully. What are
our chances of getting to the tower zero? I should
say only the women are allowed to enter it, or
a small crew under their supervision. Willing to make a try,
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Ben asked. He swung around to face them all. Until
now he had not taken them into his confidence given
them no inkling of what was in his mind. We've
talked about it before, Murchison answered, but there's so little chance.
We gave up the idea. Better to stay alive and
hope for a rescue. I can't tell you how I know,
(32:55):
Ben told them, but there isn't going to be any rescue.
He kept his eyes on the girl. How about you, Sallie?
Willing to trust me? She nodded, and Ben heaved a
sigh of relief. Rather than leave her behind, he would
have stayed with her. Gathering them about him, he outlined
his plans. The men were more than skeptical, but no
(33:18):
one had any suggestions. Ben and Davies were the last
to finish their work, and as they fastened the last
rivet to the last hinge, Ben looked up and shook
his head to the giant woman who stood watching him.
It seemed only that he was tired. She failed to
notice that Sallie had drifted off to one side and
was coming up behind her. Sallie's foot suddenly caught the
(33:41):
overseer just behind one knee and knocked her off balance.
At the same instant, Ben stepped in close and wrenched
the violet ray cylinder from the woman's hand. The others
screamed them from sight. Ben looked around and saw that
the slight flurry of activity had gone unnoticed by others
of the giant women who were near by. We're going
(34:02):
to walk to the control tower, he told the woman grimly.
If anyone asks, you're to say we have to do
some work there. I'm going to have this ray gun
trained on you under my robe, So don't try any tricks.
Understand She understood all too well. A flicker of fear
in her eyes told Ben that she knew he would
(34:22):
blast her without mercy. They fell in behind her. When
they reached the doors of the tower, a pair of
women barred their way. We have received no notice of
work to be done, one of them, said. Ben saw
her eyes narrow with sudden suspicion, and then her hand
darted for the cylinder at her side. Ben's ray gun
(34:42):
spouted violet death, and the charred bodies of three women
lay in the doorway. Ben scooped up their guns and
thrust them at Bannon and Murchison. We'll give you five
minutes before we take off, he shouted, as they ran
past him for the control room behind him and Davies
and Sally. There were shouts as the two men went
into action, but they had their own job to do.
(35:04):
The closest inspection ship was several hundred feet away, and
already women were running to cut them off. Ben cut
loose with the cylinder before they had a chance to
use theirs. Then he and Davies were lifting Sally into
the ship. While they covered the open door. Ben ran
for the controls. Somewhere an alarm was whaling, and as
he swung the ship about, Ben saw other ships being boarded,
(35:27):
but Bannon and Murchison had not failed. Just beyond the tower,
a lock swung open. Ben skimmed along the ground, figuring
to pick up the two men as they came out
of the tower. Then he saw Murchison wave him on.
He had planted himself in the doorway and was refusing
to budge. Ben saw why as Murchison blasted away at
(35:47):
a group of giant women who were trying to rush
the tower. There was no more time. Already other ships
were taking off. Another wasted minute and they would beat
him to the lock. Ben yelled to Davy's to close
the hatch. As he turned on the power. A moment later,
they were in the blackness of the tube. Davies ran
(36:08):
forward to the controls. There's a light on the ship,
he said. He found the switch and threw it in
time for them to see the next lock open for
them three to go. Ben muttered, looks like we're going
to make it. Maybe not. Davy tapped his shoulder and
pointed to the rear of the ship. Looking back through
(36:28):
a porthole. Ben could see other ships behind them. As
long as we're in the tube, they won't fire, Davy said,
but neither can we get very far ahead. While he spoke,
the ship had gone through another lock, with the others
still directly behind. It looked like Davy's was right, but
Ben was not yet ready to concede defeat. The fourth
(36:50):
lock loomed ahead, and he watched it swing open. Just
a few minutes more and they would go through the
last one. It was still hundreds of miles ahead, but
at the rate they were traveling, they would be on
it soon. He waited until the last possible second and
then cut his speed sharply behind them. The other ships
were forced to use their retarding rockets for fear of
(37:12):
ramming them. It was just what Ben had expected. As
the last lock opened, he threw the accelerator all the
way forward and felt the ship leap ahead. That alone
would not have been enough, but as the ship roared
out of the tube above the surface of terrace, he
cut sharply to the right. Had their ship been faster,
(37:32):
it might have worked, but it was not fast enough.
Through the blackness of space, the exhausts of their pursuers
flamed closer. Ben's teeth clamped down on his lips. I
guess we're out of luck. There was nothing more to say.
It was only a matter of minutes before the guns
of the ships behind them would blast them to pieces.
(37:55):
They held their breath and waited, watching the exhausts come
through the dark, and then suddenly there was no more darkness.
A light as bright as the noon sun flared. Ben
let out a shout, for beyond the light were lined
the battle cruisers of Earth. His pursuers turned tail and ran.
(38:16):
Where the devil did those ships come from? Davies gasped,
I sent for them, Ben told him we had it
all arranged. When I tackled that double I managed to
slip a microfilm capsule into his pocket it had a
complete picture of my Radona chart. As soon as the
double reached Earth intelligence grabbed him. All they had to
(38:38):
do was follow my chart to Terrace. They were passing
the flagship of the earth Fleet, and Ben dipped the
nose of his ship in salute. Then he turned to
see what was going on. There was going to be
no attempt to invade Terrace. Instead, its surface was illuminated
with more of the flares. A moment later, Garis was gone,
(39:01):
blasted by the guns of a thousand cruisers. And for
the strange women who would have enslaved a universe been
felt no pity. End of Daughters of Doom by H. B.
Hickey
Daughters of Doom by H. B. Hickey. Beyond Ventura b
there was no life. There was nothing but one worn
out sun after another, each with its retinue of cold
planets and its trail of dark asteroids. At least that
was what the books showed, and the books had been
(00:22):
written by men who knew their business. Yet, despite the
books and the men who had written them, Ben Sessions
went past Venturabe, deliberately and all alone, and knowing that
the odds were against his returning alive, he went because
of a file clerk's error. More correctly, he went as
(00:42):
the final result of a chain of events which had
begun with the clerk's mistake. The clerk's name was Gilbert Wain,
and he worked at the Las Vegas Interplanetary Port. It
was Wain's job to put through the orders for routine
overhaul of interplanetary rockets. Usually Wain was quite efficient, but
even efficient men have bad days, and on one of
(01:04):
those days, Wain had removed from the active list the
name of Astra instead of its sister ship, the Store.
In the very next morning, the Astra had been turned
over to maintenance. Maintenance asked no questions. It was that
department's job to take the ship apart, fix wo needed fixing,
and put it back together. Ten minutes later, Jacobs saw
(01:26):
Armando Gomez was the mechanic detailed to check the rocket tubes. Gomez,
who always got that job because he was small and slender,
dutifully dropped his instruments into his overall pockets and crawled
into the left firing tube. Half an hour later, he
stuck his head out of the tube and yelled to Jacob's,
who was in charge of the job, amigh, how many
(01:49):
hours this ship she got? Jacobs ran his finger down
a chart and discovered, to his surprise that the Astra
had only two hundred hours on its log since the
last overhaul. Ordinarily, a ship was checked each thousand hours.
He scratched his head, but decided that if operations wanted
the askt ratuned, it was none of his business, so
(02:10):
he told Gomez not to ask useless questions and to
get back in the tube. Any One else but Gomez
would have obeyed orders and forgotten all about it. Ten
minutes later, Jacob saw Armando's head appear. Amigo Gomez shouted
how many hours? Two hundred? Jacobs shouted back, knowing he
(02:30):
would have no peace until Gomez was answered, now get
to work. We ain't got all year. But Gomez was
out of the tube again in five minutes and yelling
for the foreman. What do you want now, Jacobs demanded.
He swung himself up on the catwalk beside Gomez. Something
very funny in here, amigo, Gomez replied, one plate. She
(02:54):
is too clean, less work for you, Jacobs grunted, so
why complain? Nevertheless, he took a look at the plate,
which was near the mouth of the tube. It should
have been lightly encrusted with the oxides of rocket fuel. Instead,
it was only beginning to dull, in strange contrast to
its neighbors, which were welded to it. That is queer,
(03:18):
Jacobs muttered, see as you say, amigo. Where Once Jacob's
interest was aroused, he was also not one to let
a matter drop. He told Gomez to work on another
tube while he consulted the front office. The front office
was not especially interested, but at Jacob's insistence, they called
(03:39):
in a metallurgist. The metallurgist, whose name was Britain, was
fortunately a thorough young man. He ordered the plate removed
and sent to his laboratory for complete analysis. After that,
things happened fast. Britain scanned the analysis of the plate
and without hesitation, called in his superior who ordered a
(03:59):
second test just to be safe, and then notified Washington.
Washington turned it over to Interplanetary Intelligence, of which Carson
was chief of staff. One week later, Ben Sessions stood
before Carson's desk. Sessions was only thirty five, but in
(04:20):
his few years with Two Eyes, as the organization was known,
he had wrung up an enviable record. Tall, lithe, darkly handsome,
he was well liked by the men who worked with him.
At the moment, there was a puzzled frown on his face,
lengthening the line made by a scar which ran from
his forehead down the side of his nose. The scar
(04:41):
was the result of a crash landing on Neptune. I
don't get it, sir, he said, A single plate from
a rocket tube. So what if it didn't oxidize? That
makes me feel much better. Carson smiled, an inner bitterness,
making that smile wry. I didn't get it either, he
went on. A mechanic named Gomez got it. A foreman
(05:03):
named Jacob's got it. A labman named Britain got it.
But the chief of two Eyes missed the boat. I
feel swell about that. He rose suddenly and hammered his
fist on the desk. Every one of us in intelligence
ought to be cashiered. Take it easy, Ben cautioned, Ah,
(05:23):
because of that plate. Carson slumped back into his chair. Yes,
and because we have failed in our duty. Our only
hope is that we may have time to make it up.
I'll give you the facts. Those tubes are made of virium.
But even viium developed scale. After next week it will
develop even more because next week we make the change
(05:45):
over to the new fuel. If Wain had made his
mistake two weeks later, there would have been so much
deposit in the tubes that Gomez would not have noticed
the difference. Now, virium is one of the most standardized
products in the world, so Gomez was rightly astonished that
the tube didn't oxidize evenly. Jacob saw further, verium is
(06:05):
the toughest metal we know of. If this piece was tougher,
it might be a discovery of major importance. So Britain
analyzed the plate. Now we get to the point, Session
sprinned Carson stabbed a finger at him, right, And the
point is that this one section of plate is not verium.
(06:26):
In fact, it is a substance which we are positive
does not exist in our system. Wait a second, what
do you mean by a system? I mean every single
bit of matter that lies between here and Ventura B.
Maybe it's not a natural substance, not an element we
thought of that. It's an element, and one we know
(06:49):
nothing of. Do you mind if I sit down, Sir
Ben asked subtenly. The enormity of the thing had struck him,
almost dazzling him with its implications. Carson laughed bitterly and
waved him to a chair, and then went on talking precisely, Ben,
The question is how did this strange substance get into
(07:10):
the tube of an interplanetary rocket called the Astra. To
answer that, we checked on the ship. The Astra is
one of the few ships which have ever gone beyond
ventur abe. I almost expected to hear that session said.
It adds up, all right, doesn't it a foreign substance?
A foreign system? But this substance had been made into
(07:32):
a plate. That means the work of intelligent beings who
took the Astra on that trip, Sessions asked his body
tense a licensed space explorer named Murchison. Two others went
with him, but he returned alone. Claims they fell into
a chasm, but no explorer has reported life beyond ventur Abe,
(07:55):
Session said. Taking up the thread of thought, he whistled softly.
You must have been busy this last week. Busy is
no word for it. It's only three years since anyone
has been allowed to go outside our system for the
purpose of science. Interstellar Flight to granted permits to six
licensed explorers. All returned with charts showing only a desolate
(08:18):
waste in our own quiet way. We have checked on
each of these six men, including Murchison, in the last week,
and and we discovered something very interesting. The six who
returned from beyond Ventura B were not the same six
who went. They are identical in every facial, bodily and
(08:40):
mental characteristic, identical enough to fool even the families of
the lost explorers. But when we secretly photographed them with
infrared light, we found that their skins contained elements foreign
to our system. Ventura A and its sister star were
the twin beacons that marked the last outposts of the
Earth's system past them was only a trackless waste of
(09:03):
interstellar space. Ben Sessions knew that the charts he carried
were probably worse than useless, were likely downright traps. He
and Carson had planned the trip. Carson had wanted to
send a fighting fleet, but Ben had opposed the idea.
Wain's mistake had led them to the uncovering of a
gigantic hoax, a hoax which could have only a sinister purpose.
(09:26):
Somewhere in the void ahead were sentient beings. To send
a fleet would be to let them know that their
existence was suspected. Sessions let the automatic controls take over
while he examined the charts once more. They showed the
constellation which lay directly ahead, the one after that, and
then nothing for hundreds of millions of miles. Those first, too,
(09:49):
reflected a tiny amount of light from Ventura Bee and
were visible through telescopes. Therefore would have created suspicion to
falsify their position past them. However, the blackness was too
intense to penetrate. The speed of the rocket ship increased,
atomic blast replaced those of the regular fuel. Sessions knew
(10:10):
that an Earth measurement would have shown the ship to
have shrunk to half its size. Only light and the
Rodona beam, which protected the ship from collisions, could travel faster.
From now on, it was just a matter of luck.
Some one had pulled those six explorers out of space,
and Sessions was hoping the same thing would happen to him.
(10:31):
On the third day it happened. He was sitting in
the pilot's chair watching the Radona chart before him. Most
of the chart was blank, only the upper right hand
corner showing a mass of black dots, which indicated a
planetary dispersal about a dead star. Sessions waited for the
Rodona beam to swing the ship leftward. Instead, the ship
(10:54):
was curving in the direction of the dots. Ben's first
thought was that the beam had gone out of order,
and he switched to manual controls. No use. Despite all
his efforts, he was being carried toward those planets. Habit
made him shut off the tubes, why waist fuel. A
tight smile froze on his lips as his speed dropped
(11:16):
twenty million miles, then lifted again as the ship by
passed a planet. With calm deliberation, Ben switched on the
camera he had installed before the flight and let it
record his course. As shown on the Radona chart. Only
one dot remained on the chart. It grew larger and
larger until it filled the entire screen. There was no
(11:38):
longer any doubt as to the ship's destination, and as
if to add further proof, its speed dropped sharply. Ben
clicked the switch on the camera and removed a tiny
roll of microfilm. The roll fit snugly into the hollow cap,
which covered the stub of one of his molars. The
altitude indicator went on automatically, showed fifty thousand feet, then
(12:02):
forty thousand, went down to hundreds. Ahead, there was only blackness.
Ben held his breath and waited for the crash. It
never came. Long after the ultimeter showed zero, the ship
still moved. Ben could think of only one explanation. He
was below the surface of the dark planet, and then
(12:24):
he could think no more. The blackness seemed to filter
into the ship and into his mind. He awakens A voice,
said It was a pleasant voice, a feminine one, silky
and soothing. Ben Sessions sat up and said, ah. The
first thing he noticed was the light. No more darkness,
(12:46):
but a light that came from nowhere. And yet was everywhere.
He was on some sort of couch in a huge
room with a vaulted ceiling. Shaking his head groggily, Ben
looked for the source of the silken voice. He was
alone in the room. His eyes ran down the length
of his body. The flash gun was gone from his belt.
(13:07):
That was hardly unexpected. But the belt was gone too,
so were his clothes. He was clad in a loose
robe of shimmering white cloth. That meant he had been
unconscious for some time. How long Ben would have given
much to know. Suddenly he let out an unearthly moan
and threw his arms wide and rolled off the couch.
(13:30):
He lay still. The silken voice was raised again, and
added to it was another, more masculine. Then a door
opened and two people stepped into the room. Ben sat
up and grinned at them, especially at the woman. I
thought that would get you, he said. It's not hospitable
to hide from your guest. Resourceful, isn't he. The woman
(13:55):
raised her eyebrows in mock admiration. Her companion growled a
reply which Ben couldn't quite catch. They were an odd pair,
the woman towering well above ten feet but perfectly formed
her skin the color of pink marble. The man more
beast than human. The women of Saturn were as tall
(14:16):
as she, Ben had time to think, but not nearly
as beautiful. Welcome to terrace Ben's sessions, she said. Her
smile was the smile of the serpent of Eden. You're
pretty resourceful yourself, Ben grinned he had carried no papers
except a blanket permit from interstellar flight. He wondered if
(14:38):
the precaution he and Carson had taken would prove to
be in vain. The woman spoke again. Ben's Sessions, Graduate
of Neptune School of Rockets, born in Taos, New Mexico, Earth,
third of four children, unmarried, unattached at present, first position,
(14:58):
co pilot Earth Vain Express. She seemed to be choosing
items at random from a memorized list. The exhibition was
intended to impress Ben, and it was succeeding more than that. However,
it was frightening. He held his breath as she neared
the end. Two years with interstellar communications, presently a Licen's
(15:21):
Space Explorer, non affiliated, pretty good. Ben said it was
better than that. It was perfect, Only the end was wrong.
He and Carson had worked that out with the psychoanalyst.
The two of them had wanted to falsify the entire biography,
but the analyst had convinced them he was right. One
(15:42):
lie I might attempt to pound into your very subconscious
by hypnotism. A dozen would be spread too thin. We
would leave holes under the type of electro analysis you
seem to think might be used on you. I can't
even promise one lie will hold up. Ben reminded himself
to recommend the man for honors if he ever got
back to Earth. He had certainly known his business, But
(16:04):
then if he hadn't, he would not be working for
two eyes. Now that you've told me all about myself,
maybe you'll tell me what's going on, Ben said, one
of your compatriots can do that. The woman told him
her interest seemed suddenly to have waned. She said a
few words in a strange tongue to the man who
(16:24):
stood at her side. He grunted, bowed, and advanced toward Ben.
Long arms covered with thick black hair reached out. Ben dodged,
you'll be sorry if you make him use force. The
woman said, nothing like trying. Ben told her. He avoided
another grab and stepped in and smashed his fist to
(16:45):
the hairy man's jaw. He might as well have hit
a wall. Before Ben could strike another blow, he was
lifted from his feet by an upward slap that threatened
to tear loose one side of his face two Dazed
to resist, he felt bold, his wrists encircled by a
tremendous hand. The woman's voice rose sharply in a tone
of command. The corridor through which Ben's sessions was being
(17:10):
led was thronged with people. There seemed to be three classes,
rosy scanned giantesses like his escort, men of his own
size but also with pink complexions, and the squat hairy men,
who appeared to be nothing more than slaves. It was
plain that women dominated the society, and from them Ben
(17:30):
received curious but contemptuous glances. Any one of these amazons
would have been considered a beauty on earth, so regular
were their features, but they lacked an air of feminine softness. Instead,
cruelty lay thinly massed beneath the surface. At the end
of the long corridor, a huge door swung open, and
(17:51):
Ben was led through it into an immense room. At
the far end of the room was a throne, and
on it a woman bend as well proportioned as the
others he had seen. She was half again as tall,
twice as beautiful. He could not contain a gasp of appreciation.
(18:12):
Thick violet hair fell almost to her shoulders. Her skin
was luminous and flawless, her body breath taking more revealed
than concealed by a clinging gown of some filmy material.
At her breast flashed a single violet jewel, larger by
far than the famed sapphires of Uranus. I brought him
(18:33):
as soon as he awakened, said the woman with Ben.
A malevolent stare from the woman on the throne rested
on Ben. It was unnecessary, she said, we have no
further need of him. Take him to the field. Wait
a minute, Ben snapped, you are addressing Arndas, queen of Terrace.
(18:54):
He heard his escort say, I don't give a hoot.
He never finished the sentence. From behind, the hairy slaves
seized him, lifted him, and flung him bodily toward the doors.
The interview was over. They went for a while along
the same corridor, then turned off and followed a side
passage for a way, and led steadily downward to an
(19:17):
arched opening, and threw that out of the building. Here, too,
the light was diffused, but much brighter. Ben had to
blink several times before he became adjusted to it. They
were standing in the center of a vast level plain,
apparently endless and roofless. For overhead there was no sky,
only an increasing intensity of light. Ranged in rows on
(19:39):
the plain were thousands of space ships. Ben turned once
as they approached the first line of ships and saw
behind him the building from which he had just come.
It rose upward a single block of shining stone for
almost a mile. Alongside it were other buildings of the
same material, but none so large. Then Ben and his
(20:01):
two escorts were past the first row of ships. His
eyes roved over them, trying to discover what armament they carried.
None was visible. Their firing tubes were much the same
as those of Earth design, but slightly smaller. His attention
was diverted from his study by a sudden disturbance. Aboard
the closest ship. The sound of an angry, feminine voice
(20:23):
came clearly through an open porthole, and mingled with it
was a pleading, deeper tone. An instant later, a door
was flung open, and out of it came hurtling one
of the men of terrace. He hit the ground, rolled over,
and came to his knees facing the open door and
the giant woman who stood framed in it. That the
(20:43):
man was pleading for his very life was obvious to Ben,
but it was equally plain that his pleas were having
no effect. The woman on the ship uttered a single
contemptuous word that cut the pleas short. On her face
was a sadistic anticipation such as Ben had never before seen. Slowly,
she raised a cylinder in her hand and pointed it
(21:06):
at the man on the ground. From the cylinder came
a violet light, weak at first, but growing in intensity
as she pressed some sort of trigger. The man shrieked
in agony as light played on him. Then the smell
of burning flesh came to Ben's nostrils, and the shriek
became a single, high pitched scream, which choked off. Suddenly,
(21:29):
Ben's escort laughed with ghoulish enjoyment, said something to the
woman in the doorway, and gestured at the charred body
on the ground. The violet light grew to blinding intensity.
A puff of smoke, and the body was gone. What
was that for? Ben, gasped his escort, smiled indulgently, and
(21:51):
shot a question at the other woman. The reply was
a shrug of shoulders and a few short syllables. He
did something that displease her, she told Ben. At his
look of horror, she laughed again, apparently pleased to have
shocked him. He noticed as they went along that the
space ships decreased in size. Those in the first rows
(22:14):
had been comparable to Earth's battle cruisers, those in the
last were one or two man jobs. His own ship,
the Rapier, was at the very end of the last line.
Beyond was a vast army of men, both rosy skinned
and hairy, at work on a gigantic excavation project. Great
power shovels scooped load after load of earth, but most
(22:37):
of the work was being done by the men who
labored with primitive pick and shovel. Above the sound of
digging rose the sharp voices of the giant women of Terrace,
each with a battalion under her command. As far as
Ben's eyes could reach, men were digging at the ground.
He was hustling along to a point where a dirt
spattered group struggled with the metallic lining for the half
(23:00):
mile hole it had excavated. At that point, his escort
turned him over to the woman who bossed that crew.
Ben saw in the hand of the overseer one of
the violet ray cylinders. Down there, she said, curtly, pointing
to where a small knot of men worked on a
terrace fifty feet below. They will tell you what to do.
Ben had found nothing strange in the fact that his
(23:22):
escort had spoken English fluently. She had been present at
his electro analysis. But he doubted that all the women
of Terrors could have the same command of the language. Nevertheless,
he said nothing and clambered down the ladder to the
terrace beneath. Ben's unasked question was answered when he saw
the five faces turned up toward him earth Men. Even
(23:45):
the grime that covered them could not hide that, And
there was added proof in their widening eyes. They were
sorry to see another earth Man captive, yet happy at
the sight of one of their own kind. Willing hands
helped Ben down from the bottom rung of the ladder.
We'd heard they had picked up another ship, one of
the men said, But we weren't sure the rumor was true.
(24:08):
True enough, as you can see, I'm Ben's sessions. His
outstretched hand was grasped and shaken cordially. Names were flung
at him. Murchison, Davies, Kennard, Bannon, Murchison, Wait a second,
Ben said, I thought I heard Murchison twice. You did,
said the big raw boned man at whom he was staring.
(24:30):
The first is my daughter, Sally. It was only then
that Ben noticed how small and slender was the figure
of the one next to Murchison. Even the girl's loose robe,
similar to that of the men, could not quite conceal
her femininity. Her hair was cut short, her hands toil hardened.
Carson didn't tell me, Ben muttered. He grinned at Murchison.
(24:54):
I expected to find you and two assistants, but I
didn't know one would be your daughter. Spec did hope
glinted in five pairs of eyes above them. There was
a shouted command to get to work, and a cylinder
was waved threateningly. I'll explain as we go along, Ben said, hastily.
Show me what to do. Bannon, a short, thick set
(25:16):
man with a mop of unruly black hair, shoved a
pair of tongs into Ben's hands and quickly explained how
to hold the rivets with which the group was working.
In effect, they were constructing a huge cylinder. Looking down,
Ben saw that it descended into the bowels of Terrace.
The others were pressing Ben for his explanation, but he
insisted that they tell their stories first. The same thing
(25:39):
had happened to them as to him, within some thousands
of miles of Terrace. They had felt a force pull
them toward it. Then they had passed out and awakened
to find themselves prisoners. I know all that, Ben said,
But in all the time you've been here, you must
have found out a good deal. What goes on here?
Why are they taking the prisoner every one who approaches
(26:01):
the planet? Why do they conceal its existence from our system?
Murchison paused between blows of his hammer as though to
wipe sweat from his brow. Since you seem in a hurry,
he said, I will tell it in brief. You are
in the center of a planet whose evil people are
engaged in one enterprise, the conquering and subjugating of our universe.
(26:24):
I thought that might be it. Ben nodded, but subjugating
billions of people may prove tougher than they think. Their
intention is to reduce our populations so it can be
easily handled. And I can assure you that these women
are perfectly capable of slaughtering as many people as they
think necessary. They have both the means and the contempt
(26:44):
for human life that such an undertaking requires. Ben hazarded
a guess this project is part of their preparation, the
final part. Since the surface of Terrace has a temperature
of absolute zero, it can only be reached from here
through a series of locks. What they are building now
are new locks big enough to handle their largest ships.
(27:07):
As soon as that's done, they plan to attack any
idea when that will be about a week Earth time.
Murchison's shoulders sagged with despair. We've been racking our brains
for a way to stop them, but it's no use.
They're as clever as they are evil. They've even sent
doubles of each of us men to Earth to pave
(27:29):
the way for the attack. I suppose you've seen your double. No,
then they haven't made one. You have to be awake
while it's being done. I suppose they didn't think it
necessary now that there's so little time left, less time
than I thought, Ben grunted, I'd better get moving. He
(27:49):
tilted his head back and shouted to the woman above.
For a second time. Ben stood before Arndus, Queen of Terrace.
Her eyes pro him, trying to divine his thoughts. There
was anger in those eyes. If she detected a single
flaw in his story, it would mean Ben's death. More
(28:10):
than that, it would mean disaster for Earth. He talked fast.
When we found that plate in the firing tube of
Murchison's ship, we knew he was lying. We figured he'd
discovered valuable deposits out here and was trying to keep
them secret. That was all. It's enough. Isn't it enough
for interplanetary intelligence to send me on this mission? Those
(28:31):
false papers? I carried our proof that we suspected something,
And if I'm not back in the time we allowed,
they'll have our entire battle fleet out looking for me.
Very clever, Arndis smiled, But if you are trying to
frighten us, you are failing. The women of Terrace had
a high civilization before your Earth was born. We can
(28:52):
do things you never dreamed of. At her command, Ben's
arms were seized and bound behind him. He was carried
flee into a room. Near By, a room filled with
a maze of scientific apparatus. On what appeared to be
an operating table, was a transparent shell, and beneath this
Ben was strapped through the shell. He saw one of
(29:14):
the men of Terrace brought into the room and placed
in a similar position on another table. Wires were strung
between the two shells, and somewhere a machine began to hum.
The shells filled with a white vapor that lingered a
moment and then was gone. Although he had known what
was to happen, Ben could not control his amazement, for
(29:34):
the man who came out of the other shell was
an exact replica of himself. Within minutes he saw the
other dressed in his own flying suit. You see how
simply we solved the problem, Arndus asked Ben. Sessions will
return to Earth and there will be no search. He
will report that he found nothing and request that he
(29:56):
be allowed to try again. By that time we shall
be read ready to attack. Ben's arms had been untied,
and now he put his hand to his face, as
though to rub some tender spot. The move attracted no
undue attention. An instant later, he had two fingers inside
his mouth and was working loose the cap over his tooth.
(30:17):
His next move took them completely by surprise. With a leap,
he was half way across the room and lunging for
his double. Ben brought the man down with a flying tackle,
and for seconds they wrestled on the floor. Then a
hairy hand tore Ben loose and he was hauled to
his feet. He had done little harm to the other.
Not quite fast enough, Arndace said. Within minutes he will
(30:42):
be aboard the rapier and on his way. Her voice rose,
take this one back to the locks. Doesn't it ever
get dark here? Ben asked. He and Murchison and the
others had been allowed to come out of the tube
after what seemed hours of time. They sat now in
a tiny cell into which air came through slits in
(31:04):
the wall. No, Murchison said, but Bannon has a good
watch and were able to keep track of time. Is
exactly six days and three hours since you were put
to work, Ben nodded thoughtfully. There was not much time left.
Work on the locks went on endlessly, and sooner than
he could have believed possible, they were being completed. Given
(31:27):
enough slaves, he thought anything could be accomplished. Gluing his
eyes to one of the slits, he peered out. The
last of the giant gates was being installed. Their own
crew would have only one more shift before the job
was finished. Beyond the excavation, Ben could see the tower
from which the locks were controlled. Bannon, who had been
(31:47):
in Terra's longest and who had managed to garner some information,
had explained their operation to Ben. I worked on the
new controls when they were being installed, he said, ranging
himself alongside Ben. They're fully automatic. There are five locks
in each tube between the interior and the surface of terrace.
How many ships did you say were kept at the tower?
(32:09):
Ben asked about ten. They make inspection flights each day,
although nothing has ever gone wrong that I've heard of.
But the tubes and the locks are the only outlets
to the surface, and they watched them carefully. What are
our chances of getting to the tower zero? I should
say only the women are allowed to enter it, or
a small crew under their supervision. Willing to make a try,
(32:34):
Ben asked. He swung around to face them all. Until
now he had not taken them into his confidence given
them no inkling of what was in his mind. We've
talked about it before, Murchison answered, but there's so little chance.
We gave up the idea. Better to stay alive and
hope for a rescue. I can't tell you how I know,
(32:55):
Ben told them, but there isn't going to be any rescue.
He kept his eyes on the girl. How about you, Sallie?
Willing to trust me? She nodded, and Ben heaved a
sigh of relief. Rather than leave her behind, he would
have stayed with her. Gathering them about him, he outlined
his plans. The men were more than skeptical, but no
(33:18):
one had any suggestions. Ben and Davies were the last
to finish their work, and as they fastened the last
rivet to the last hinge, Ben looked up and shook
his head to the giant woman who stood watching him.
It seemed only that he was tired. She failed to
notice that Sallie had drifted off to one side and
was coming up behind her. Sallie's foot suddenly caught the
(33:41):
overseer just behind one knee and knocked her off balance.
At the same instant, Ben stepped in close and wrenched
the violet ray cylinder from the woman's hand. The others
screamed them from sight. Ben looked around and saw that
the slight flurry of activity had gone unnoticed by others
of the giant women who were near by. We're going
(34:02):
to walk to the control tower, he told the woman grimly.
If anyone asks, you're to say we have to do
some work there. I'm going to have this ray gun
trained on you under my robe, So don't try any tricks.
Understand She understood all too well. A flicker of fear
in her eyes told Ben that she knew he would
(34:22):
blast her without mercy. They fell in behind her. When
they reached the doors of the tower, a pair of
women barred their way. We have received no notice of
work to be done, one of them, said. Ben saw
her eyes narrow with sudden suspicion, and then her hand
darted for the cylinder at her side. Ben's ray gun
(34:42):
spouted violet death, and the charred bodies of three women
lay in the doorway. Ben scooped up their guns and
thrust them at Bannon and Murchison. We'll give you five
minutes before we take off, he shouted, as they ran
past him for the control room behind him and Davies
and Sally. There were shouts as the two men went
into action, but they had their own job to do.
(35:04):
The closest inspection ship was several hundred feet away, and
already women were running to cut them off. Ben cut
loose with the cylinder before they had a chance to
use theirs. Then he and Davies were lifting Sally into
the ship. While they covered the open door. Ben ran
for the controls. Somewhere an alarm was whaling, and as
he swung the ship about, Ben saw other ships being boarded,
(35:27):
but Bannon and Murchison had not failed. Just beyond the tower,
a lock swung open. Ben skimmed along the ground, figuring
to pick up the two men as they came out
of the tower. Then he saw Murchison wave him on.
He had planted himself in the doorway and was refusing
to budge. Ben saw why as Murchison blasted away at
(35:47):
a group of giant women who were trying to rush
the tower. There was no more time. Already other ships
were taking off. Another wasted minute and they would beat
him to the lock. Ben yelled to Davy's to close
the hatch. As he turned on the power. A moment later,
they were in the blackness of the tube. Davies ran
(36:08):
forward to the controls. There's a light on the ship,
he said. He found the switch and threw it in
time for them to see the next lock open for
them three to go. Ben muttered, looks like we're going
to make it. Maybe not. Davy tapped his shoulder and
pointed to the rear of the ship. Looking back through
(36:28):
a porthole. Ben could see other ships behind them. As
long as we're in the tube, they won't fire, Davy said,
but neither can we get very far ahead. While he spoke,
the ship had gone through another lock, with the others
still directly behind. It looked like Davy's was right, but
Ben was not yet ready to concede defeat. The fourth
(36:50):
lock loomed ahead, and he watched it swing open. Just
a few minutes more and they would go through the
last one. It was still hundreds of miles ahead, but
at the rate they were traveling, they would be on
it soon. He waited until the last possible second and
then cut his speed sharply behind them. The other ships
were forced to use their retarding rockets for fear of
(37:12):
ramming them. It was just what Ben had expected. As
the last lock opened, he threw the accelerator all the
way forward and felt the ship leap ahead. That alone
would not have been enough, but as the ship roared
out of the tube above the surface of terrace, he
cut sharply to the right. Had their ship been faster,
(37:32):
it might have worked, but it was not fast enough.
Through the blackness of space, the exhausts of their pursuers
flamed closer. Ben's teeth clamped down on his lips. I
guess we're out of luck. There was nothing more to say.
It was only a matter of minutes before the guns
of the ships behind them would blast them to pieces.
(37:55):
They held their breath and waited, watching the exhausts come
through the dark, and then suddenly there was no more darkness.
A light as bright as the noon sun flared. Ben
let out a shout, for beyond the light were lined
the battle cruisers of Earth. His pursuers turned tail and ran.
(38:16):
Where the devil did those ships come from? Davies gasped,
I sent for them, Ben told him we had it
all arranged. When I tackled that double I managed to
slip a microfilm capsule into his pocket it had a
complete picture of my Radona chart. As soon as the
double reached Earth intelligence grabbed him. All they had to
(38:38):
do was follow my chart to Terrace. They were passing
the flagship of the earth Fleet, and Ben dipped the
nose of his ship in salute. Then he turned to
see what was going on. There was going to be
no attempt to invade Terrace. Instead, its surface was illuminated
with more of the flares. A moment later, Garis was gone,
(39:01):
blasted by the guns of a thousand cruisers. And for
the strange women who would have enslaved a universe been
felt no pity. End of Daughters of Doom by H. B.
Hickey
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