New Tarzan - Tarzan And The Silver Globe Part 3

It wasn't extremely likely, he thought, that any of them would livelong enough for him to fulfill his threat. Yet, it was a necessary threat, both to maintain discipline and to establish his place (probably briefly, all things considered) in the hierarchy of the tribe. He felt a cold trickle of sweat run down his back, but refused to shudder. If one was going to die, he reflected, allowing a handful of dust to sift through his fingers as he maintained a stony-faced demeanor, it was better to die as a man than as a beast. He thought of his young, fat wives, and wondered who would inherit them, then brought his line of thinking up short. This was no way for a sub-chieftain of the mighty, fearless Waziri to die, if die he must!

Chapter X.

"Men and Beasts!"

NIGHT settled upon the jungle and the desert and the hidden city of Opar. It settled as well upon the Silver Globe and the crouching, patient Tarzan, once more restored to his senses. Night settled, also, to the savage horde of Waziri and beasts of the jungle crouched on the plain leading to the one known tunnel leading to the mysterious city. N'Gogo, shoulders crawling in superst.i.tious fear, suggested softly to Basuli, chief of the Waziri, that their men might take heart from a campfire or two.

Basuli shook his head and grunted a negative. "It will make the beasts uneasy," he explained.

"It is cold, O chief," complained N'Gogo. "And the warriors s.h.i.+ver. We have not the s.h.a.ggy hides of others."

Basuli allowed a moment of silence before he answered. "Not so cold as the bare bones picked so by the hyena. Not so cold as death. There will be no fires tonight." He grunted with a dry humor unusual in a Waziri warrior. "Think of thy fat wives and keep warm, N'Gogo."

"Or my first wife, and grow even colder," complained N'Gogo.

Basuli smiled thinly. "There is that. One chooses."

N'Gogo grunted, scooped out a bit of sand and a couple of hard rocks from under his hips, making himself as comfortable as possible under the circ.u.mstances. Just before he settled himself loan uneasy slumber, he asked his chief, "Shall I not set guards for this night"

Basuli stretched beside him. "Not needed. We have many guards around us. Guards who wake at night. No need."

N'Gogo heard, just then, the faint pad of the paws of Simba the lion pa.s.sing within a few feet and, shuddering, lay back down. Was one being guarded, he wondered, or kept alive for the breakfast of a beast? He'd had a hard two days and nights of it, and finally dropped off to a slumber, a deep slumber marred only by uneasy and fitful dreams of his first wife, that cold hag.

Night fell elsewhere, although the impatient Glamo, high in his control chamber aboard the Silver Globe was only aware of it in pa.s.sing. After all, the day and night periods meant little to this member of Venusian aristocracy; as a matter of fact Glamo was immune to the normal "wake-sleep" habits of warm-blooded sentient creatures of planets away from his own. He glanced, this time without interest, at Jane Clayton, privately wondering if it would be worth the effort to add her to his already exotic collection of Earth specimens. A number of the Followers had come aboard the Globe and were in their communal, reeking pit, well down in the bowels of the interplanetary craft. Adjusting his golden armor, the Venusian took a last quick check of his instruments, and leaving Tarzan's mate behind him, unconscious, descended innumerable silvery pa.s.sageways. He paused, opposite the entrance to the cage that had held the renegade ape Jedak, frowning at the warning signal over the entry. He pressed a switch at the side of the door and peered through the revealed transparency. Empty!

Cursing Marda silently for causing this delay mid the now apparent damage to the exterior skin of the Silver Globe, he pressed the computer studs on his belt and watched carefully as the mighty s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p healed itself.

He stood, irresolute, for a few seconds, uneasily aware that there was a missing factor for which he would be held accountable - the white ape. So be it.

Deeper into the s.p.a.ce craft he descended, activating the door which allowed him to enter the fetid pit of the Followers. They lay in a great intertangled loathsome ma.s.s which took him some period of time to mentally separate. All were accounted for with the exception of two, it seemed. He strode forward to double check and their writhing tentacles shrank back from his golden armor, the one metal their otherwise practically indestructible bodies could not tolerate.

He nodded shortly, satisfied with his count, stepped outside and activated the external lock to the chamber of the beasts, so that none inside Could leave, but so that those outside would still be able to enter.

Something, some atavistic instinct, warned the Englishman that there was a something here that must be fought to the death. Ordinary rules did not apply. Besides, from his crouched position outside the Globe, he felt - rather than heard - a throb, hum, call it what you will, of energy, as if the mighty foreign object was preparing for something. Flight, perhaps. Lord Greystoke, b.l.o.o.d.y, scarred, seeking his mate, Jane, tried desperately to recall what had happened up to this point, from the time he'd been battered senseless until the moment when he'd regained his senses.

Tarzan eased himself into a more comfortable position, resigning himself to watch. He half-dozed, his enormous, more than human vitality drained to almost utter exhaustion from his trials. There was little he could do until Goro, the Moon, rose to illuminate the Silver Globe and the surrounding area. Tarzan slept, hand upon the handle of his knife, ears on the alert, now able to discern the ordinary night sounds aside from the uneasy purr of the mighty generators of the Silver Globe as Glamo impatiently paced its silver decks, waiting for his mechanism to warm up to flight pitch. Jane had long since been consigned to a cargo s.p.a.ce where she floated in a state of suspended animation, and Marda, known as "La" for so many years, was making her cautious way to the side of Glamo. Her only entrance to the Globe was through the pit of the Followers, she knew, and she shuddered as she adjusted her golden armor, the only means of fending off their death-dealing tentacles.

Half-dawn broke, and N'Gogo felt himself nudged in the ribs by Basuli, who regarded him wryly, not quite smiling, yet with the suggestion of a smile upon his ebon countenance. "The old wife?" Basuli inquired after N'Gogo's dreams, impolitely, for dreams were private.

N'Gogo squinted upward at the half-rays of sun, forgetting for the moment the vast hordes of beasts surrounding him and the rest of the Waziri, instead finding a source of indignation at even Basuli, who dared pry into the innermost thoughts of a warrior. Basuli again smiled. "Your face looked like a sour fruit," he said, softly. "It could have been but your first wife, the old one."

N'Gogo, outraged at this intrusion upon his innermost thoughts, started to sit abruptly upright, was restrained by his chieftain's firm, sinewy hand. Softly," whispered Basuli. "Look about you. Your night picket is both hungry and thirsty. Blood, for some, makes an excellent subst.i.tute for other liquids."

N'Gogo looked again. Restlessly, about the encampment of the Waziri, all of them asleep - or feigning sleep - prowled the night predators. Lion. Leopard. One black leopard, notoriously a knave of the forest, rolled piercing yellow eyes at the rec.u.mbent figure of the sub-chief of the natives, curling a lip over a startling protrusion of yellowed fangs, emitting a soft hiss.

N'Gogo gulped. "Yes, mighty Basuli," he agreed, under his breath, "Softly, indeed. But you reached a sort of agreement with these creatures, is this not true?" He felt a little more cheerful.

Basuli, impa.s.sive, appeared to meditate. "True, yes. But that was at nightfall. And that is a long time ago, valued one. Who knows what these creatures may be thinking by now, hours later?"

"I thirst."

The Waziri chieftain nodded. "And so do they. There are no waterholes here, and the beasts are notoriously impatient. We are men, and we understand thirst. They do not" He watched carefully. "Go now and waken the others of our tribe. Crawl like a snake, with your belly deep in the sand, so that Simba will not notice you. It is his feeding time. Quickly, before first light, but carefully."

With great distaste for his appointed task, N'Gogo made his way carefully, cautiously among the others of the tribe, waking them one by one, cautioning them all to silence and circ.u.mspection. The warning, once each warrior was awake, was hardly necessary. Never, had any of them slept so close to so many beasts.

Now dawn started to streak the plain with roseate streamers of light. The mighty elephant - Tantor - got to his feet, as did the near-sighted Buto, the rhino, snuffling, searching for the water which had been denied them by the terrain. Horta, the boar, one of the most savage of all the jungle denizens, rooted futilely in. the dry sands looking in vain for a sign of moisture while the great cats snarled their disapproval of the entire proceedings, then slunk off to find shelter in the shade of such few boulders and clumps of brush as might be seen.

As the cats disappeared into the shade, the Waziri cautiously stretched, yawned, stood erect. From a previously unnoticed swale, also p.a.w.ning and scratching, emerged two of the great apes, and they waddled carefully toward Basuli, who alone of all the Waziri warriors spoke their language.

They stood at a respectful distance.

"I see you," said Nendat, chief of the apes.

"And I see you," grunted Basuli.

"I also," grunted Leena, Nendat's she.

With a mighty backhanded blow which would have torn the head off a man, Nendat disciplined his mate. "This is talk for hes," he reprimanded her, as she scuttled, whimpering, away from the feet of the two oddly-matched tribal leaders. He apologized to Basuli. "My apologies. Shes are this way."

The Waziri solemnly inclined his head. indeed. And you rule your tribe wisely. This is indeed talk for men."

Nendat thumped one mighty paw half-heartedly upon his breast, not at all sure he should have slapped his mate with such vigor. "Although, to give that one credit, it was she who brought much of this to our attention."

Basuli, slipping a wise eye around at N'Gogo, asked the great ape, "You have other mates, certainly?"

"Not our custom. One such is certainly enough for any he. More would be a sign of weakness. And foolishness."

N'Gogo looked elsewhere in embarra.s.sment, as his own chief nodded a.s.sent. "Correct. Now, shall we get to work?"

"You have given this thought?"

"There was little else to do during the hours of darkness. When the night beasts were roaming about."

Nendat let sand sift through his fingers. "An uneasy truce."

"Yes." Basuli let the thought lay, turning over the possibilities in his own mind, all the time keeping a stony visage. Could the great ape note human expressions? Could he, mighty Basuli, read the expression on the face of a great ape? There was a certain mutual distrust between the pair, as there was, in greater or lesser degree, between all humans and sub-humans. Yet, as he studied the muzzle of the mighty primate, Basuli could not help but be impressed by Nendat's apparent, almost obvious sincerity in the latter's concern for the whereabouts and the safety of Tarzan. Finally, Basuli spoke again. "We have certain tools. Do I speak with wisdom? We, you and I, serve the same master, Tarzan."

Surprisingly, the leader of the great apes bared yellowed fangs, dancing about in awkward shuffles that raised little puffs of desert sand, and beat upon his breast defiantly. Startled lions and leopards snarled in protest of this unseemly exhibition, but Nendat ignored them all. "I serve no master!" the giant ape roared. "I am the master of my people!" He growled, deep in his throat, tiny red-rimmed eyes glowing, wickedly. He picked up a pawful of dust, threw it into the air, indicating that the discussion was either closed, or that mortal combat was next on the agenda.

N'Gogo searched around for a creva.s.se or a swale in which to hide himself. He knew nothing of the language being spoken, but he sensed the antagonism in the air.

Basuli held his peace, waiting until the mighty ape ran out of super-charged energy, finally quieted down to a more rational level, then stood erect, casting his spear to the ground, opening his arms. "I serve my master, Tarzan," he announced. "I congratulate you on having no master, although it seems to me, in my slavish and servile fas.h.i.+on, that we must all of us have a master. So be it. You are obviously more wise, infinitely so, than am I, Basuli, who leads a miserable two hundred warriors. I await your decision. What shall our combined forces do?"

Nendat, satisfied, now that his vanity had been restored, rubbed a puzzled paw over his muzzle. "Why, then," he offered, strutting on all fours for the exclusive benefit of his clan, "why we shoulda make plans"

"Yes. I bow to you, mighty Nendat." The leader of his tribe became almost magically engrossed in the progress of an early-moving caterpillar. The great ape watched it soberly as it made its slow way across a desert leaf, then leisurely reached out with banana-sized fingers and picking it up delicately, thrust the unfortunate but succulent grub into his mouth, smacking his lips in delight. Leena, his she, uttered a small squeak of hunger, and her master turned glowering brows upon her. To tell the truth, Nendat was uncertain as to where they all were and as to the purpose of their visit. The caterpillar was not very tasty, yet he used it as a diplomat might use a hard-drawing pipe, as a killer of time. He swallowed the tiny remains, looking thoughtfully in the general direction of his own encampment, many miles to the rear.

"Plans," the Waziri chieftain reminded him.

Nendat, the ape, was now uneasily aware of the stirring on the plain of the hundreds of savage beasts, including more carnivores than he'd seen in a lifetime. Actually, it was far more responsibility than he cared to accept. "I leave plans, and such, to you, black warrior." He felt that this was a good gambit as he thoughtfully scratched an accursed sand-flea.

Nendat inspected the rock-fall with uncomprehending eyes. "Ah. A tunnel, you say?"

"And in it, perhaps, almost certainly, Tarzan"

"Yes. Just as I saw and forecast. Let it be opened." "As you say, Nendat. I shall start my warriors clearing away the fallen rock at once. N'Gogo!"

The great ape registered scorn in his voice. "With those puny weaklings? Look around youa with Tantor, the elephant and Buto, the rhinoceros at oura at my command?" He gave orders to others of his tribe, who sped out and rounded up the mightiest of the forest dwellers. Soon, huge boulders were being pried loose by the horn of Buto, thrown to one side by the trunk of Tantor.

"You are indeed a wizard, chieftain," N'Gogo whispered to Basuli, as the work progressed.

"That is quite possibly true," Basuli said, watching with interest as the entrance to the vaults of Opar was speedily being reopened. "At least," he went on thoughtfully, "a wizard until the sun is midway through his journey this day. I find no pleasure in thinking what will happen when these hundreds of beasts become crazed with thirst. For there is no water. Now, O brave one, how does the thought of thy first wife, the old, wrinkled one, seize thee?"

Chapter XI.

"For the Followers-Food!"

GLAMO, in the control room of the Silver Globe, sent out a sardonic call to Marda. "Even you should know," he said with thinly veiled irony, "that we are in need of two basic items for our return to Venus; water, and food for the Followers. Opar has enough of both, and you of all persons should know the source. The Globe is warming even now for our return to Venus; water, and food for the Followers. Opar has enough of both, and you of all persons should know the source. I might also point out to yon, my beloved, that fuel is not unlimited. We must leave soon or not at all."

AI have antic.i.p.ated your requirements, my master, but these Oparians refuse to bring water onboard our vessel until they have a sacrificial ceremony. The white savage has escaped."

"Yes." Glamo gave the matter some thought. He rather disliked giving up the prize specimen in the person of the woman - she would be a valuable rarely on Venus, worth much gold, that metal so rare that only the aristocracy possessed it, and then in the smallest quant.i.ties. There was perhaps a thousand pounds of it on the a planet. Glamo was one of four Lords of Venus who could boast a full suit of golden armor. Coldly, he toyed for a moment with the idea of giving his mate herself to the Oparians. Only that her presence here was known on his home planet, and that his failure to return with her might conceivably cause some unpleasant inquiry deterred him. No, it had to be the female captive.

"Glamo? " It was his mate again.

"Yes."

"Could you not lift the s.h.i.+p and capture a native?"

The Venusian growled in his throat at such nonsense. No time. And not enough fuel." Too bad it couldn't be Marda. He pounded one fist into the palm of the other hand, switching his long tail angrily. Anything, anything, he told himself, to get off this d.a.m.nable savage planet, back to Venus among his own kind, to enjoy again the pleasant vices of overeating, overdrinking, the secret trips to the various Temples of Pleasure. "Send some of the Oparians on board the Globe. I will give them the woman for their stupid sacrifice."

"I shall conduct the sacrifice myself," came Marda's thought, almost too eagerly.

Smiling grimly, Glamo switched off their mental contact, reaching with his prehensile tail almost negligently to the control that opened a hatch in the side of the s.p.a.cecraft, then awaited the arrival of the wizened, twisted - yes, insane - little creatures. The Venusian lord didn't deign to turn on the view screen before the entryway. Had he done so, he would have seen another sort of lord altogether, as Tarzan's giant, supple body slid with cat-like speed into the opened port.

Lord Greystoke was seeking his mate!

It took the ape-man only a few moments to roughly map out the interior of the Silver Globe, and to find a cubbyhole from which he could keep the entryway under observation without himself being easily discovered. He settled there with true animal patience, the patience of some great carnivore on the hunt. The hatch had not been opened without reason, he knew. Someone - or something - would presently use it, and Tarzan wanted I to know who, or what, and for what purpose.

His wait was not a long one; soon a band of the gnarled priests of Opar trooped in through the entry. Tarzan drew back more closely in his hiding place, awaiting future developments. Had Glamo not been careless, activating the warning buzzer that told of pa.s.sage into and out of the Globe only after a tardy minute or two, future developments might have taken a most ugly turn for the ape-man, indeed.

He watched curiously as the band of little beings gazed about themselves in obvious fear and apprehension. If their unease was so great, Tarzan wondered why they had come aboard at all. Suddenly, they turned as if hearing a command, although the keen ears of the giant 'heard nothing and followed a circular corridor until they were out of his vision. Mental control? He'd heard of such phenomena, but never seen it before. Most interesting! He paused only a second, then, reasoning that a circular corridor must eventually come back upon itself, set off on silent, speeding feet in the direction opposite to that taken by the little priests. Tarzan had thus sped for some distance, when he suddenly came to a halt, thinking. Certainly, he felt, he had at least made the circ.u.mference of the s.p.a.cecrafta why then had he seen nothing, encountered no one, heard nothing? In fact, he'd been running in an almost total darkness. Panting, he paused and wondered about it all. From whence came the almost invisible glow that just did enable him to maneuver? He gazed about, deep chest heaving. It might have emanated from the very walls themselves. And why had he not at least have reached the hatchway from which he'd started? He trotted a few steps more in the direction he'd been proceeding, then stopped and, turning, trotted a few steps back. Aha!

No doubt of it, and Tarzan cursed himself for his stupidity. In the excitement of the pursuit, he'd neglected to note that, although the corridors were circular, they were formed as a spiral! Thus, the Lord of the Jungle had been running, ever so slightly, uphill! Quickly, he retraced his path, and when he'd come back approximately as far as he'd gone, put his left hand to the wall, once again seeking his hideaway. Now the gently-sloping downwardness of the ramp became obvious from the pull on the calves of his legs, and Tarzan grunted in self-disgust. How foolish not to have noticed the peculiar construction at once, before expending the energy! His left hand encountered a familiar jog in the smooth silver wall, and he paused. This felt - he explored the area carefully with his sensitive fingertips - like the cubbyhole into which he'd pressed his body as the green men of Opar entered, but where was the opening into the s.h.i.+p? Had he miscalculated? Had the almost total darkness confused the instincts of even the mighty Tarmangani? Not likely, but yeta he sniffed the air. Nothing. Moving with the utmost stealth, he slipped a foot into the corridor, estimating his possible mistake in location. He was more than aware of his fatigue, and for a second wondered if he were living some ill-illumined nightmare. In this s.h.i.+p, almost certainly a vehicle from some other planet, was his mate, Jane. He was sure of it. Now he became aware of a strange, pulsing - not sound, but feeling, that his subconscious had been noting for some time, as if the mighty machine were alive and breathing after a period of hibernation. A sudden alarm sent adrenalin coursing through his bloodstream. Was the s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p preparing to leave, to take off for some un- known, not-to-be-guessed destination? Suddenly, the faint glow of the walls began to increase, slowly, in brightness, and Tarzan darted back to the cubbyhole. Another exit, another entrance? His keen eyes could now make out the almost invisible break in the silver wall nearly opposite which marked the outline of the entryway. He held his place for another moment, but as the light grew brighter, hastily slid out of his hiding place and retreated still further around the corridor, now plainly feeling the pa.s.sageway lifting before his withdrawing steps. He stayed close to the inner wall so as to keep out of sight of whoever might be following the same path. The illumination coming from the walls ceased to increase in brightness presently, and Tarzan stopped his retreat, properly deciding that whoever was causing the uncanny effect had arrived at his goal. Now, the mighty white ape went on the offensive. Loosing the steel blade in his sheath, Tarzan retraced his steps again, slowly, silently, peering as best he could around the long curve of the corridor wall.

There! A sheen of golden armor, and Tarzan stopped in astonishment. What could it be? It moved, therefore it was prey. Lips curled back in a feral snarl, Tarzan slid forward, ever forward, until he could at last make out the full figure of what appeared to be an armor-encased man, almost as large as the giant himself, and with the somewhat interesting addition of what could only be a flouris.h.i.+ng, whipping and prehensile tail almost as long as its owner was tall!

Tarzan stopped in his tracks, searching in the half-light for a c.h.i.n.k in the golden armor where his blade might slip easily through to halt the life-force of this strange creature. Here, inside the Silver Globe, anything that moved, man or animal, was an enemy!

Glamo, unaware of the close scrutiny of the ape-man, activated the view screen of the pit which housed the Followers. The two priests of Opar, whom he'd held back under taut mental control from the party which only seconds before had taken Jane Clayton to the sacrificial chamber of their ancient city, stood shaking before him, awed at the horrible sight of the glutinous ma.s.s of intertwining tentacles which comprised the communal nesting place of what might well be the most horrible creatures ever designed by nature. Glamo was about to test the Oparian edibility, with a view to keeping a well-stocked larder on board for his return to Venus. He felt that perhaps a hundred of the pygmies might supply at least the basic necessities, and purely as a dietetic experiment, wanted to see how long two of them would last and how well the voracious appet.i.tes of his Followers would be satisfied with a pair. It was fifty Earth-days return and if two a day would at least take care of the monsters' minimal needs, his problems were over!

With a cold smile, he pressed the stud opening the door, and urged the pair of gnarled Oparians through with an irresistible mental command. The opened door released a fetid blast of rotting air that almost caused the closely-watching ape-man to gag, but Tarzan steeled himself. He felt no pity for the Oparians; rather, he was glad to see yet another pair of the small fiends approach their certain death; still, the manner of it was not pleasing. Tarzan brushed this thought aside. What he was witnessing might be of further value to him, and he peered as closely as he dare. The trembling priests tottered on reedy legs into the vast, foul-smelling pit, and the door swung shut behind the Oparians and the figure in the golden armor. Swiftly, Tarzan darted from his place of concealment, staring through a tiny slit in the door. The writhing movement of the ma.s.s of tentacles stopped momentarily, then stealthily, seeking, eye-tipped and poison-fanged rubbery arms reached cautiously out of the ma.s.s of alien bodies. One such touched the golden armor of Glamo, and recoiled in haste. Another delicately fingered the body of an Oparian, then struck savagely. Swiftly, the writhing, half-paralyzed little body was drawn back down into the pit. Still others reached for Glamo, recoiling as always at the touch of his golden armor. The Venusian took only the precaution of keeping his tail well out of reach, and watched with great interest as the Followers made quick work of the first Oparian. Tarzan nodded to himself, slowly. The golden armor meant something after all. Its function was not, as he had opposed, purely ornamental. He recalled the golden anklets, bracelets, breast-plates and stomacher of La, high priestess of Opar, and realized for the first time that she, too, must be such an alien, for gold was absolutely unknown to the present-day descendants of Atlantis!

The ape-man watched impatiently as Glamo shoved; the second priest into the pit. The alien nodded as if satisfied, prepared to turn, and Tarzan sped away from the door, taking up a position just around the bend of the corridor. He heard the door to the pit open, smelled the awful stench, then heard the door close. He followed closely this time, keeping the flaunting tail of the Venusian in sight, moving on silent feet, a soundless snarl upon his lips.

In his eagerness to be off, Glamo neglected to send out the mental probes which would have safeguarded him from attack. His only thought was to hurry the loading of his hip, and that could not be done until the female human was sacrificed upon the altar for the edification of the filthy little Oparians.

Tarzan was sorely tempted to close with the Venusian at once, to kill - yet, unquestionably the alien could exercise some form of mental control. The ape-man had just seen two terrified Oparians walk to their death, a death so horrible that even mighty Tarzan blanched to think of it, although he had long learned that death comes to all creatures and is more accepted in the jungle than elsewhere. While the Lord of the Jungle felt no fear of death, neither did he court it. To sacrifice himself foolishly was not to be thought of. His mission was to rescue Jane, and after thata well, what was to happen must happen. Best, then, to overpower, to stun or to kill this alien life-form at once. After that, a speedy search of the Globe until he should find his mate, and then escape. The Venusian must be overcome before he was aware of his hunter's presence, before he could exercise that uncanny thought-control.

The alien halted so suddenly that Tarzan almost overran him, and pressed a stud on the wall, which slid back revealing a lighted, comfortable although austere room. Before he stepped through, Tarzan charged on silent, padded feet. He could not restrain himself from a frightful snarl as he sprang, and Glamo, the Venusian, turned in complete and utter surprise, just in time to receive a bone-shattering crash in his face which drove him clear across the room, against a bulkhead and to the floor, unconscious. The giant ape-man sprang after him, knife in hand, leaping astride the unconscious body and forcing back the other's chin, preparatory to slas.h.i.+ng the fallen one=s throat. It was with the greatest of difficulty that Tarzan restrained himself from making the kill then and there. Certainly no moral compunctions stayed his keen blade and mighty sinews; it was combination of the curiosity common among all the apes, the same apes which had reared Tarzan, and a very human thought that this rather strained mercy might prove helpful in some way in the next few tense moments. Reluctantly, Tarzan sheathed his knife and got slowly to his feet. The alien would be unconscious for some time, of that there was little doubt. Tarzan grunted, looked about him. It was definitely the nerve center of the strange craft. He gazed at what appeared to be a control console. One k.n.o.b, a red one, appeared to be in an "on" position. At least, it was switched to an entirely different position from the others in its line. All the gauges and meters on the console, except for the one over the red k.n.o.b, were at rest. The last was quivering only a little. Tarzan grunted again, baffled. This wasn't for him.

He went back to his victim, rolled him over roughly and stripped the armor from him. Amazingly, it was almost paper-thin, and, for gold, very lightweight. Thus stripped, the alien was not particularly a formidable physical specimen by Tarzan's standards. The highly-ornamented belt pleased Tarzan. It was jeweled, and he determined to keep it for Jane - if he ever found her. He strapped it about his own waist as a convenient place to wear it, slapping the buckle in front to make sure it was secure. The response to this action was immediate and violent. Unknowingly, Tarzan had touched off a series of relays within the computer system of the electronically- controlled "brain" of the Silver Globe, relays that were contradicting each other at such a speed that the "brain" itself was driven immediately insane. The Globe rocked upon its axis, relays clicked into position and off again, lights lit up and went out, doors and hatches opened and closed, and, finally, the whole giant mechanism went dead! The Globe itself wound up canted slightly to the side. Tarzan, alarmed, sprang to the door, but it refused to open. He whirled in his tracks, frantically seeking a way out. There was none! He glanced quickly at the figure on the floor. One eye was open, gazing fiercely at the ape-man!

Chapter XII.

"Destroy--Destroy!"

THE desert sun rose ever higher, and the work of clearing the entry to the tunnel was becoming difficult. More, Basuli noted, tempers were becoming short. The great cats snarled sullenly as they sought the scant shade, and he noticed his own warriors, the fierce Waziri, were casting apprehensive glances at them. Nendat, leader of the great apes, and ostensible overseer of the operation, was having some trouble keeping his savage followers in line. The elephants seemed more tractable. Their great, grey shapes labored constantly and with a certain amount of willingness, but Buto, the rhino, even at best an ill-tempered and short-tempered beast, had made a few indiscriminate although abortive charges at whatever moving shapes his near-sighted eyes could perceive. Basuli looked carefully at the face of the cliff from which the rock was being removed, noting that it could only be a matter of moments until a breakthrough. After that, what? It was a situation that could quickly disintegrate into utter chaos. The great beasts, maddened by thirst, might easily declare an end to their truce and turn upon each other. This bothered him not at all, but there was an excellent chance that such activity might wipe out the leaser beasts, including himself and his band of Waziri warriors. So thinking, he picked his way carefully among the laboring animals, attracting the eyes of Nendat and silently urging a conference. The oddly-a.s.sorted pair retired to a convenient rock and squatted in what little shade it offered.

Basuli offered the leader of the great apes his water bottle, first uncorking the spout. Nendat sniffed suspiciously, growled, looked about under beetling brows, then drank the contents at a single gulp. He tossed it aside carelessly after he had finished. Basuli winced, but maintained his composure. "You have them working well," he complimented Nendat.

The ape maintained a silence, glowering with red-rimmed eyes at Basuli.

"As I recall this place as it was, we approach the end of our task," he went on. "It is a moment of fear."

At once the huge ape was on his feet, stomping, m.u.f.fling, snorting, beating his chest and showing his teeth in a fearful grin. "Nendat fears no one!" he challenged. "Say he does and die, smooth-skin!

"Basuli waited patiently for the ape's rage to subside. "It was not of your people and mine I was speaking, Nendat, but of these others, these beasts that cannot reason, that cannot see ahead, that do not know there is a tomorrow, or that Goro, the moon, will surely rise in the heavens tonight." This was rather crude, unsubtle flattery, but it served its purpose in setting the great apes apart from other denizens of the jungle. Nendat was almost immediately pacified, and resumed his position.

"That is true," he admitted after a moment. "We stand alone among thesea thesea"