The Three Planeteers by Edmond Hamilton

Author:Edmond Hamilton [Hamilton, Edmond]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: eStar Books LLC
Published: 2011-10-14T19:37:57+00:00

CHAPTER XII

Citadel of Fear

John Thorn paused. They had been following the huge drain for half an hour, and had now reached a point where a smaller drain-tube opened into it from the right.

"This must be one of the citadel drains,” Thorn muttered, flashing his red beam up it. “Come on, we'll soon find out."

"We'd better not stay down in this maze of pipes too long,” warned Sual Av. “The rains will start again when dawn comes, and these tubes will be full of rushing water."

John Thorn was clambering into the smaller side drain. It was so small that he had to go forward in it on hands and knees. It sloped very gently upward, and its floor was damp.

He led the way, the little red beam of his fluoric lamp lighting him forward. Sual Av followed him closely, and the big Mercurian brought up the rear.

Thorn guessed that by now they must be passing under the wall of the great fortress. His hopes were running high. So far, they had met no barrier.

Then suddenly, Thorn met the barrier. And he almost died before he realized it.

The little tubular fluoric lamp he held outstretched in front of him suddenly flared red hot, its chromaloy case starting instantly to melt. Thorn recoiled with a smothered exclamation of pain and surprise, dropping the redhot thing. They were plunged into absolute darkness,

"What is it?” exclaimed Sual Av anxiously.

"I don't know. Something ahead melted my lamp before I could draw back,” Thorn answered, his voice wire taut in the darkness. “Pass me your lamp, Sual. We've run into some devilish trap!"

The Venusian passed his lamp forward. Thorn, without venturing any farther forward, snicked on the beam.

The red ray quivered up the gently sloping black cement tube. Thorn stared tensely. There was nothing ahead—nothing except a row of small holes across the curved floor of the drain, and a similar row of holes in the roof exactly above.

"I can't see anything,” said Sual Av. “Your lamp must have burned out accidentally."

"Wait,” said Thorn tensely.

He tore a bit of cloth from his jacket, and cautiously pushed it forward until it was over one of the row of holes. Instantly the cloth burst into flame and vanished in fine ashes.

John Thorn felt cold sweat stand out on his brow. He knew now the invisible death he had nearly, blundered into.

"There's a web of heat-beams here across the drain,” he said hoarsely. “A little trap fixed up by Haskell Trask's guards for anyone who might try to enter the citadel this way."

The nature of the diabolical trap was clear. Buried somewhere near the cement drain was a generator of heat beams—those “focused” rays of radiant heat which were produced in a mirrored inertrum chamber by transformation of atomic energy into vibratory force in the proper octaves. Such beams had an effective range of only a few feet, but were deadly within that distance.

"The beams are projected through three holes in the floor and disappear through the holes in the roof of the drain, to be dissipated above,” Thorn said.

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