Astounding Stories of Super-Science April 1930 Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  _A Nation Waits in Dread_

  As Prester Kleig, looking twice his forty years because of fatigue, andalmost nameless terrors through which he had passed, went to hisrendezvous, the news-gatherer, who shall here remain nameless, raced forthe Broadcasting Tower.

  As Prester Kleig entered the Secret Room and at a signal all the manydoors behind him, along that interminable stairway, swung shut and weretightly locked, the news-gatherer raced for the microphone and gave the"priority" signal to the operator. Millions of people would not onlyhear the words of the news-gatherer, but would see him, note theexpressions which chased one another across his face. For television waslong since an accomplished, everyday fact.

  "Prester Kleig, of this government's Secret Service, has just returnedto the United Americas! Your informer has just seen him step from themonoplane of Carlos Kane, atop the Capitol Building, and repair at onceto the Secret Room, closely guarded. But I saw his face, and though heis under forty, he seems twice that. And you know now what this countryhas only guessed at before--that he has seen Moyen. Moyen the half-man,half-god, the enigma of the ages. What does Prester Kleig think of thisman? He doesn't say, for he dares not speak, yet. But your informer sawhis face, and it is old and twisted with terror! And--"

  * * * * *

  That ended the discourse of the news-gatherer, and it was many hoursbefore the public really understood. For, with a new sentence but halfcompleted, the picture of the news-gatherer faded blackly off thescreens in a million homes, and his voice was blotted out by a hummingthat mounted to a terrific appalling shriek! Some terrible agency, aboutwhich people who knew their radio could only guess, had drowned out thewords of the news-gatherer, leaving the public stunned and bewildered,almost groping before a feeling of terror which was all the moreunbearable because none could give it a name.

  And the public had heard but a fraction of the truth--merely that Kleighad come back. It had been the intention of the government to deny thepublic even this knowledge, and it had; but knowledge of the denialitself was public property, which filled the hearts of men and women allthrough the Western Hemisphere with nameless dread. And over all thisabode of countless millions hovered the shadow of Moyen.

  The government tried to correct the impression which the news-gathererhad given out.

  "Prester Kleig is back," said the radio, while the government speakertried, for the benefit of those who could see him, to smilereassuringly. "But there is nothing to cause anyone the slightestconcern. He has seen Moyen, yes, and has heard him speak, but stillthere is nothing to distress anyone, and the whole story will be givento you as soon as possible. Kleig has gone into the Secret Room, yes,but every operative of the government, when discussing businessconnected with diplomatic relations with foreign powers, is received inthe Secret Room. No cause for worry!"

  * * * * *

  It was so easy to say that, and the speaker realized it, which was whyhe could but with difficulty make his smile seem reassuring.

  "Tell us the truth, and tell us quickly," might have been the voicelesscries of those who listened and saw the face and fidgeting form of thespeaker. But the words were not spoken, because the people sensed ahovering horror, a dread catastrophe beyond the power of words toexpress--and so looked at one another in silence, their eyes wide withdread, their hearts throbbing to suffocation with nameless foreboding.

  So eyes were horror-haunted, and men walked, flew, and rode in fear andtrembling--while, down in the Secret Room, Prester Kleig and a dozen oldmen, men wise in the ways of science and invention, wise in the ways ofmen and of beasts, of Nature and the Infinite Outside, decided the fateof the Nation.

  That Secret Room was closed to every one. Not even the news-gathererscould reach it; not even the all-seeing eye of the telephotographemblazoned to the world its secrets.

  But _was_ it secret?

  Perhaps Moyen, the master mobster, smiled when he heard men say so, menwho knew in their hearts that Moyen regarded other earthlings asearthlings regard children and their toys. Did the eyes of Moyen gazeeven into the depths of the Secret Room, hundreds of feet below even thedocumentary-treasure vaults of the Capitol?

  * * * * *

  No one knew the answer to the question, but the radio, reporting thereturn of Kleig, had given the public a distorted vision of an embodiedfear, and in its heart the public answered "Yes!" And what had drownedout the voice of the radio-reporter?

  No wonder that, for many hours, a nation waited in fear and trembling,eyes filled with dread that was nameless and absolute, for word from theSecret Room. Fear mounted and mounted as the hours passed and no wordcame.

  In that room Prester Kleig and the twelve old men, one of whom was thecountry's President, held counsel with the man who had come back. Butbefore the spoken counsel had been held, awesome and awe-inspiringpictures had flashed across the screen, invented by a third of the oldmen, from which the world held no secrets, even the secrets of Moyen.

  With this mechanism, guarded at forfeit of the lives of a score of men,the men of the Secret Room could peer into even the most secret placesof the world. The old men had peered, and had seen things which hadblanched their pale cheeks anew. And when they had finished, and theterrible pictures had faded out, a voice had spoken suddenly, like anexplosion, in the Secret Room.

  "Well, gentlemen, are you satisfied that resistance is futile?"

  Just the voice; but to one man in the Secret Room, and to the otherswhen his numbing lips spoke the name, it was far more than enough. Fornot even the wisest of the great men could explain how, as they knew,having just seen him there, a man could be in Madagascar while his voicespoke aloud in the Secret Room, where even radio was barred!

  The name on the lips of Prester Kleig!

  "Moyen! Moyen!"