The Radio Planet by Ralph Milne Farley (reader novel TXT) 📕
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- Author: Ralph Milne Farley
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“Lead on!” he said.
As they emerged up a flight of stairs into the main hall of the palace they saw a frantic throng of palace guards piling tables, chairs, and other furniture into a barricade across one of the doorways. Evidently the troops of Emsul and Hah Babbuh had penetrated the palace and had driven the defenders back to this point.
The golden-curled Lilla, standing straight and slim in her black gown, stopped all this work of fortification with an imperious gesture.
“Desist!” she cried. “I, your princess, command it. The war is over. Yuri, the usurper, is dead.”
“Prove it,” snarled back the guards like a pack at bay, recoiling from her regal presence.
“Here is your proof!” Myles Cabot shouted, stepping forward and casting Yuri’s body down before them. “Your king is dead.”
“’Tis true,” one replied. “The king is dead.”
“Yuri is dead,” another echoed. “Long live King Kew!”
“Long live King Kew!” shouted all the palace thugs, just as the besiegers stormed over the barricade with leveled rifles.
But at the shouts within, and at the sight of their princess and their intrepid earth-man leader, they grounded their arms and, holding their left hands aloft, gave the Porovian greetings:
“Yahoo, Myles Cabot! Our regent has returned from Minos to rule over us!”
Then one guardsman had an idea. “Come,” he said, “let us mount to the upper terraces, haul down the yellow pennant of King Yuri, and restore the red banner of the Kew dynasty.”
From one of the balconies above came a boyish voice: “It has already been done, Myles Cabot.”
Every one looked up, and there stood Yuri’s younger brother, the loyal Prince Toron, wearing the insignia of admiral of the Cupian Air Navy.
“I hope you don’t mind, Myles,” he said as he descended. “I made myself admiral on my own hook. You see, while all the bees were here at Kuana bombing your men, I captured the air base at Wautoosa with a crowd of ex-aviators whom I had assembled for that purpose.
“We had been hiding in the woods for several sangths, with spies at Wautoosa to inform us when there was an opening. When the time came we walked right in, killed a few old bees who were on guard, reconditioned the planes which have lain in storage ever since my brother seized the throne, painted them with silver paint, flew up here to Kuana, and put the bees out of business.
“The silver paint was my own idea, and I must say it seemed to work. The bees couldn’t see us at all against the silver sky. The plaza and the fields beyond are strewn with dead and dying Hymernians, and my men are tracking down the survivors.”
And he would have chattered on in his boyish excitement, had not one of the soldiers brutally interrupted with:
“Thy brother lies dead, O Toron.”
The young prince followed the pointing finger of the guard until his eyes rested on the crumpled body in its blood-stained yellow toga. Then he flung his arm across his face to blot out the sight. For a few moments he stood thus, while all respectfully kept silent. At last he uncovered his eyes and addressed the earth-man.
“May he rest beyond the waves!” he said. “I crave the corpse so that I can give my brother a decent funeral.”
“He shall be buried with full royal honors,” Myles Cabot replied, “for he was a brave and regal Cupian who would have served his country well if his inordinate ambition had not blinded his judgment.”
“My cousin shall have royal burial,” echoed the Princess Lilla. “It would be due you, Toron, for your share in the victory, if for no other reason.”
“I appreciate this courtesy more than words can express,” Toron replied.
The news of the capitulation had rapidly spread, and the huge hall was filling with Cupians from without. Among them came Emsul, Nan-nan, Hah Babbuh, Oya Buh, and even Poblath the Philosopher. Warm were the greetings between the friends.
“But where is our king?” Myles asked, as soon as he could free himself from all the congratulation.
“Now it can be told,” Poblath replied. “He is safe in the care of my wife Bthuh, in our villa at Lai.”
“The darling! I shall go to him at once,” Lilla announced.
“And I too,” Myles added.
“But no,” Hah Babbuh interposed, “for the populace are already gathering in the stadium and are demanding a speech from the great liberator.”
“So be it,” Myles said with a shrug of resignation. “Affairs of state cannot wait even the presence of the king, it seems.”
“But shall these black-togaed guards be permitted to retain their arms?” Emsul asked.
“Why not?” the earth-man replied. “Their only crime is that they fought loyally for their leader. Besides, this is a free country. One of our grievances against the usurper was that he deprived us of our rifles.”
Then, to the palace soldiery: “Care tenderly for the body of Prince Yuri, and lay it out in state pending our return. Oh, and I almost forgot—there is a crazy woman bound in one of the cellar rooms. Turn her over to the mango of Kuana for incarceration in the mangool, and under peril of your lives do not permit her to escape.”
“All hail our regent! And our most beautiful and beloved princess!” shouted the guards, as Myles and Lilla left the palace.
A kerkool awaited them at the gate. Getting into this, they proceeded at a slow rate through the city and across the plaza toward the stadium through lanes of cheering Cupians. Prince Toron, Emsul, Hah Babbuh, Oya Buh, and others of their retinue followed them.
The plaza and the fields beyond were strewn with bodies—mostly in fragments—of the once great race of the Hymernians. One of these bees, as they passed it, gave sign of still possessing some life. A faint whistling noise assailed the antennae of the passing procession.
Cabot gave one look in the direction of the sound, then signed the kerkools to stop, dismounted, and approached the dying creature.
Adjusting his control to the wave length of bee speech, he sadly said, “Portheris, once my friend, whom I made king of the bees, it grieves me to see you lying thus, struck down in a war against my people.”
Raising himself feebly, the dying Portheris replied, “I bear you no malice, Myles Cabot, and I pray that you will bear me none. Although I opposed the war, yet when it came to a fight of race against race I was loyal to my own, as any honorable individual would have been under like circumstances. Perhaps it is just as well; for do you not remember that when you were driving the ant-men off the face of Cupia, you said: ‘There is no room on any given planet for more than one race of intelligent beings?’ Now the last Formian is gone, and the last of my own people is gone. May Cupia be at peace. It is the sincere wish of your old friend.”
The huge bee fell back, quivered a moment, and lay still. Thus died Portheris, the last of the Hymernians.
“May you rest beyond the waves, dear friend,” the earth-man murmured as he returned sadly to his car.
They found the stadium packed with cheering throngs in gala attire. Everywhere fluttered flags of the Kew dynasty.
After Lilla had been comfortably seated and Marshal Hah and the others had arrived, Myles stepped to the transmitter and was about to broadcast some appropriate remarks to the assembled multitude, when an airplane arrived overhead and settled softly into the arena.
From the plane there stepped Poblath the Philosopher, followed by Bthuh, his dark and beautiful wife. Both were smiling, and Bthuh held in her arms a baby Cupian.
Then Cabot spoke into the microphone: “Behold your king!”
It was the shortest speech he had ever made—and the best.
Thus came Kew XIII into his own.
There is not much more to tell.
Prince Toron retained his self-given title of Admiral of the Air Navy. Hah Babbuh was restored to his professorship at the Royal University. Oya Buh was promoted to full professorship. Poblath the Philosopher again became mangool of Kuana, and his wife was made governess of the infant king. Emsul, the veterinary, was given the title of court physician.
Owva, the Holy Leader, died shortly after this, and Nan-nan was selected by the Great White Lodge as the fit person to reestablish the lost religion publicly throughout Cupia.
Myles and Lilla, leaving their friends to reconstruct the capital, departed for a vacation at Luno Castle.
Thus end the story of the adventure of Myles Cabot, the radio man, on his return to the silver planet Venus, as received by the Harvard scientists and myself over the long distance radio-set at my farm on Chappaquiddick Island, Massachusetts.
Ralph Milne Farley.
THE RADIO PLANETWhen Myles Cabot, inventor of radio transmission of matter, returned to Venus he found himself alone on an unknown continent on that alien planet. To get back to his old headquarters and his loved ones presented some apparently impossible problems.
He’d have to settle a war between the near-primitive natives and an unholy alliance of monsters, dinosaurs, and giant insects. He’d have to build an electronic device from raw rocks and untapped resources. And if he could succeed in all that, he’d still have to find his way home and fight off a usurper’s diabolic conspiracy.
But Myles Cabot didn’t know the meaning of the word impossible!
ON THE WRONG SIDE OF VENUSOn Venus, the Radio Planet, nothing was impossible, it seemed to Myles Cabot. He was beginning to get used to the dangerous monsters that inhabited the planet, to know how to deal with them and the even stranger intelligent insects among whom he found himself.
But the insects were his enemies, a race of creatures Cabot had driven from their dominion over Cabot’s own people—yet here he was, fighting side by side with the insect leaders in a desperate attempt to defend their queen!
It was strange, unexpected ... but it was the only hope he had of getting back to his own land and rescuing the beautiful Lilla, his young son and his throne.
Transcriber’s Notes Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication. Generated a Table of Contents based on the original chapter headings. Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged. In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.) End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Radio Planet, by Ralph Milne Farley
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