Court strode toward it.
He halted, realizing that he was in a laboratory—but no Earthly one! He blinked in astonishment at sight of the apparatus surrounding him. Then, forcing down his curiosity, he knelt beside the prone figure and turned it on its back.
The man's face was handsome in an arrogantly ferocious way, though a black spade-beard jutted from his pugnacious chin. The giant lay motionless, and Court saw that no breath lifted the hairy barrel chest. Nevertheless he made careful tests, only to realize that the man was pulseless, apparently dead.
For some reason, Court was not convinced. Could corpses remain in such a perfect state of preservation? Was there not such a thing as catalepsy? He returned to the others, and found that they were equally lifeless, equally well preserved.
There was the long chance of a wild hunch. Court returned to his own ship and came back with heating pads and stimulants. He paused to consider.
Which one should he attempt to revive first? The girl? The Chinese? Why not the bearded man? His presence in the laboratory—the heart of the ship—indicated that he was probably a scientist.
With a grunt of decision, Court went to the prostrate giant and put down his burden.
Warmth must come first. The heating pads were arranged in armpits and thighs.
He followed them with adrenalin, with brandy, artificial respiration.
Court placed his hands in the proper position and forced air from the giant's lungs. Then back, and down again. Down, and up…
With a surge and a rush, the man came back to life. He flung Court off with a swift gesture and sprang up. His hand closed on the switch he had been striving for.
But he halted and whirled, his yellow cat's-eyes glowering at the smaller man.
He said something Court did not understand.
Rising to his feet, Court kept one hand on his gun as he watched the giant warily.
Abruptly the blackbeard strode past Court and into the next room. When he returned, he was grinning. He stopped at the door and stood with arms akimbo. After a moment he spoke slowly in Latin.
It was a language that Court, being a scientist, had studied with some thoroughness.
"I come from Earth," he explained. "The third planet of this Sun. I mean no harm. I awoke you—"
The other nodded. "I am Thordred. But there is no time to talk now. Tell me, swiftly as you can, how you found us."
Court obeyed. As he talked, Thordred went into the adjoining room and stood contemplating the silent figures. He stooped beside the slim body on the floor.
"Dead, I think. Yet—this is your ship?"
He pointed toward the port.
"Yes."
"Well, you will not need it. My ship is yours now."
A gleam of amusement shone in the yellow eyes as Thordred lifted Ardath's body and carried him into the Terra. He paused to study the controls. After making a careful adjustment, he returned.
The door of the Terra he closed behind him, then both ports of the larger ship. Court felt a touch of apprehension.
"Thordred," he said with quick anger in his voice. "What are you doing?"
The giant turned to a vision screen in the wall.
He flicked it on.
"Look!"
On the screen, Court saw the Terra, flashing away through space. He felt a sudden pang that chilled to cold rage.
"What right—"
Thordred grinned. "Slowly, Stephen Court. I have said that this ship is yours. As for him"—black hatred shone in the yellow eyes—"he was a renegade and a traitor. He tried to kill us all. He is dead now, but science and magic may bring even a dead man back to life. So Ardath is going where there is neither science nor magic—toward the Sun!"
"The Sun!"
"Yes. I set the controls on your ship. They were not difficult to understand. Ardath is doomed, if a dead man can die again. And now we will attend to the others."
He glanced at the silent figures on the couches.
"We'll awaken them?"
"One at a time. The girl first." Thordred hesitated. "Revive Jansaiya, Court, while I adjust the apparatus. We are going back to Earth."
"Good." Court smiled. "We need your help."
His throat felt achingly dry, for at last his search was at an end. With the science of this Thordred added to his own, the Plague could be fought, perhaps conquered.
Thordred was smiling triumphantly as he went into the laboratory.
CHAPTER XIII
The Sleepers Awake
Court busied himself with the golden-haired girl. Jansaiya's feline, sophisticated green eyes, and the vague suggestion of cruelty about her lips, were not apparent now as she lay in cataleptic sleep. Rather she seemed some elfin creature out of Earth's myth-haunted past, a daughter of Neptune.
The gossamer, violet-tinted robe scarcely veiled the alluring curves of her slim form. Her lashes lay golden on the rose-petal cheeks. She seemed so helpless, so childlike. Utterly trusting, she lay curled like a kitten on the couch.
The poignant loveliness of the Atlantean girl was suddenly an aching stab in Court's heart. He felt no passion for her, no infatuation. She was too completely removed from mundane life for that. But Jansaiya curiously seemed to typify and embody for Court something he had never known. Out of the world's youth, she was youth, a symbol of the dreams that most men know before they grow too old.
Staring down at Jansaiya, Court realized that he had never known youth and wondrous dreams. Unexpectedly he thought of Marion Barton, whom he had left on Earth. He put her out of his mind by working swiftly.
Occasionally Thordred came to the door of the laboratory to watch, but as time wore on the giant appeared less often. Though he had learned much when the thought-transference helmet had given him the knowledge of Ardath's brain, Thordred had not acquired the Kyrian's super-mentality.
Guiding the ship back to Earth was a difficult task. Besides, he was busy making certain adjustments on the thought-helmet. So he remained in the laboratory, and did not see Jansaiya waken.
Court had turned away to stare curiously at the other two sleepers, Li Yang and Scipio the Carthaginian. The giant warrior puzzled him. Since the man wore only a breech-clout, Court found it hard to guess his origin. The color of the skin was Negroid, but the thin, firm, harsh lips and the hair certainly were not. Li Yang, though, was obviously an Oriental. What did that mean? Had this space ship actually come from another world?
The golden-haired girl might have been born on an alien planet—perhaps even Thordred and the sleeping, naked giant. But the Oriental? Court frowned, and then glanced at Jansaiya as she stirred.
She had been breathing regularly for some time. Now her lashes fluttered and the green eyes opened. When she looked up at Court, a soft, wordless sound of inquiry murmured from the red lips.
"Athloyee s'ya voh—"
Court matched the girl's language, which he did not know was Atlantean, with Latin.
"Don't try to talk yet. You are safe."
The brows wrinkled in puzzlement as the cruel gaze scrutinized him.
"I am safe? Of course. But where is Ardath?"
"Dead. Thordred—"
Court paused, startled at the look on Jansaiya's face. He saw fear, and incredulous amazement, and a soft smile of evil triumph that repelled him.
"Dead?" She turned her head and looked across the room. "Li Yang. Yes. And Scipio. But Thordred, is he dead also?"
"No. Shall I get him?"
Court rose, but halted as a slim hand touched him.
"Wait. Who are you?"
Before he could reply, Thordred's harsh voice broke in.
"Jansaiya! You are awake? Good!"
The giant strode into the room, his amber eyes intent on the girl. Briefly they flickered toward Court.