In the Green Star's Glow
- Автор: Картер Лин Спрэг
- Серия: Green Star Rises #5
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «In the Green Star's Glow». Краткое содержание книги:
But he was also an Earthling, whose helpless body lay in suspended animation in a guarded mansion in New England. It was his alien mind that drove Karn through perils that no other wold dare...
In the Green Star's Glow is a science fantasy novel in the tradition of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Written by American author Lin Carter, it is the final book in his Green Star series. It was first published in 1976.
The ant warriors approached the base of the building with circumspection. The portal yawned widely open and unguarded.
They went in.
22.
Under the Knife
Within the Opal Tower the days passed slowly, and time seemed nonexistent. Niamh went about her waking hours in a manner which can only be described as somnambulistic. Her first fears that the dwarfed madman had preserved her for one of his horrible experiments seemed demonstrably false. She guessed that he reserved her for another purpose, one as yet unknowable.
Nightly he conversed with her through the concealed opening in her room, while Number Nine served her dinner on low tables inlaid with precious stones. Each of these nocturnal monologues was like a long, rambling dissertation by a brilliant but warped intelligence. Quoron described with feverish excitement the progress of his experiments, and announced that he was very close to achieving his ultimate goal, which was the severance of a human head in conjunction with the perfect preservation of all of its cognitive faculties.
On more than one of these occasions, Niamh thought that she glimpsed the flicker of awareness in the dull, glazed eyes of the many-limbed automaton. It was almost as if the double-headed monstrosity was capable of understanding the import of Quoron’s conversation, and somehow remembered the operations which had served to render it the monstrosity it had become under his cunning knife.
For some reason which she could not explain, even to herself, that wan and feeble glimmer of understanding—almost of resentment—in the eyes of the monster gave her cause to hope. But to hope for what? She did not know.
Quoron appeared in her suite one evening, his hunched, diminutive form quivering with tension, his noble brow glistening with the perspiration of pure excitement.
“Tonight, young woman, you shall witness an event of unparalleled magnitude in the annals of scientific achievement!” the dwarf announced, his voice croaking and harsh with repressed eagerness.
“And what is that?” she inquired faintly. He lurched forward on bowed legs, thin lips fixed in a cold smile of triumph.
“My experiments have proved successful!” exulted the science wizard. “At last I have conquered the final obstacle in my path!”
“Do you mean you have discovered how to remove a human head without killing the brain?” asked Niamh, filled with apprehension. The dwarf leered with gloating in his eyes.
“No less than that,” he crowed triumphantly. “It is now fully within my power to sever the braincase from the trunk while the brain retains its cognitive faculties unimpaired. An ingenious contrivance of my own design continues to supply oxygen to the brain-cells even after the major arteries have been disconnected. And in this historic experiment, you—you!—shall play a vital role. Your name shall not go unforgotten in the annals of our age, for you, my dear, shall witness the operation and shall bear your testimony to my achievement of the miracle to the civilizations of this planet!”
“But—who is to be the subject of the operation?” the girl faltered, faint with relief that this grim honor was not to fall to her.
“I, myself,” exclaimed the cripple. “No longer shall I suffer the ignominy of possessing a brilliant intellect which is forced to go forever chained to this misshapen and revolting carcass! My head shall live on in solitary speculation, serenely aloof to the body, immortal—undying—godlike!”
“But who, then, will perform the operation?” the girl asked wonderingly. “Surely, it is not still your intention to permit this pitiful monstrosity to—to—?”
He chuckled. “Aye, but it is! Number Nine has been carefully trained and coached repeatedly in all steps of the process. With three hands at Nine’s disposal, my faithful monster will be able to perform the most delicate of all surgical operations in a mere fraction of the time possible to an ordinary human.”
With these words, the dwarf reached up, patting and stroking the motionless limbs of the immense creature which towered blank-eyed above him.
Niamh shuddered, but said nothing; A nameless foreboding filled her with apprehension …
The operating theater was in readiness, and without further ado the fiendish experiment commenced. Quoron commanded his giant servant to chain the princess to the wall so that the girl could not possibly interfere during the procedures. Then he assumed his position on the white metal table under the glare of sterile lamps.
The ghoulish operation began.
First, the injection of a local anesthetic rendered Quoron totally insensible to pain. The dwarfed madman would remain fully conscious during every step of the process of decapitation.
Then, one by one, the hideous colossus severed the veins and arteries of the neck, attaching these to throbbing pumps by means of transparent tubes. Quoron explained that the device he called his “artificial heart” would monitor the circulation and purification of blood during the actual operation. Not for a single moment would his brain be deprived of its vital supply of freshly oxygenated blood.
Then Number Nine began severing the head of Quoron from his deformed body.
Several times during the process, Niamh averted her eyes in disgust and revulsion. But a sick fascination, for the most part, kept her attention to the incredible surgical feat.
For all its ghastly appearance and apparent idiocy, the four-armed monster had been meticulously trained. It was amazing to watch those uncouth limbs, performing miracles with the razor-thin scalpels, never faltering, never betraying their innate clumsiness for an instant.
Throughout the operation, the head of Quoron remained awake, following every step of the procedure with glittering eyes, although unable to speak or to comment until such time as the head was completely severed and its vocal organs were attached to the artificial breathing device which would make it possible for the decapitated head to make audible sounds again.
The final step—that of cutting through the spinal column—was performed with a small power saw. When the column was completely severed, the head was now independent of the body.
The last attachments were made. Number Nine stepped back as if to observe its grisly handiwork.
The head of Quoron hung in midair, supported by the various tubes and pipes which connected it to the life-support system. It smiled triumphantly at Niamh, thin, colorless lips drawing back from dry teeth in a rictus devoid of mirth. All that remained now was for Number Nine to attach the end of the air-hose to the stump of the neck, and the severed head could speak.
Number Nine returned the small saw to the tray of surgical implements, and reached for the organic jelly with which it would fasten the breathing apparatus to the head. But as it did so, its glazed eye was caught and held by a small and seemingly inoffensive piece of apparatus on the metal table.
This was a small tube of flame, resembling a Bunsen burner, in whose blaze the instruments had been sterilized.
Something flickered within the opaque eyes of the two-headed monster. Was it a wisp of memory—the residue of pain-recollection of that moment when its master, for an idle whim, had commanded it to hold its fingers in the flame of the candle in order to demonstrate to Niamh its complete helplessness to oppose the will of Quoron?