The City Above the Air
At last the light of day, filtering through my prison bars, aroused me from a terrible dream of a gleaming purple octopus that was crushing and strangling me in its coils. Little did I realize how soon that dream was to become a reality!
The red-uniformed sentry came and brought me a little breakfast. I tried to engage him in conversation as I ate, but all I could get out of him was "Aw, shut your trap, Pard!"
He ordered me out of the cell. As I stood outside, blinking in the blaze of morning sunshine, I saw that the crater had been deserted since I had entered. The rows of great sheds were empty, with doors ajar. The long lines of red planes were gone. Even the great ship into which I thought Ellen and the others were taken was not to be seen. The radio station appeared to have been dismantled. There were no more than a dozen airplanes left in the pit; and even as I looked, some of these took off and spiraled up into the sky.
Had the maniac finished his preparations for an attack upon the earth? Had his dreadful army gone forth to begin the ruin of the world?
The guard motioned with his bayonet toward one of the red ships near us on the ground. "Hustle!" he said. "Get aboard. You are going up to see the Master."
From what I later learned, there must have been several hundred white men in the conspiracy with Vars. In exchange for their services, he had offered freedom from the law (which was a great inducement to the class of men he gathered) and a chance to share in the spoils of world conquest. His recruits had numbered bandits and desperadoes of all descriptions, and even a few unscrupulous men of finely trained minds.
In a few minutes we were in the fuselage compartment of the red machine. It was closed and made air-tight. We were seated upon comfortable chairs, and had a good view through circular windows in the sides. The pilot was forward, out of sight, and there was another closed space to the rear, but our compartment took up most of the hull.
The guard refused to answer my questions concerning the ship's propulsion, but I later learned that it was lifted by the negative gravity gas. The motors utilized intra-atomic energy derived by the forced decomposition of thorium, and at high altitudes the propellers were supplemented by rocket guns.
Besides my taciturn guard, there were two other men in the ship. One, a fat, red-faced fellow, who looked as if he had been drinking too much mescale, was boasting of his close association with Vars, "the Master," and of his promised part in the spoil of the earth conquest.