TEPONDICON

                            By CARL JACOBI

           He was not the savior-type. He certainly did not
            crave martyrdom. Yet there was treasure beyond
          price in these darkened plague-cities of Ganymede,
                 if a man could but measure up to it.

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                      Planet Stories Winter 1946.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

By seven o'clock, Earth-time, I could distinctly see the first plague
city of Profaldo. In the grey light it lay there before me, a vague
opalescent aura radiating from its spires and minarets. The three roads
that crossed the flat converged on the city to meet at a single narrow
runway.

I drove the tracto-car down into a little gully, climbed out and took
a second look through my magnoscope. The flat was deserted, as it well
should be at this hour, and the only sign of life was a high-flying
<i>tok</i>, circling slowly.

It took me only five minutes to make preparations for my entrance into
Profaldo. The carefully wound coil of volocized wire slipped down
neatly under my tunic. Suspended from my left shoulder was a haversack,
innocent appearing, but containing one of the seven transmitting sets,
also a complete set of tools. I removed three of the white pellets
from the little glass vial in my pocket and swallowed them. And, for
emergency, I slid a heat pistol into another pocket.

Then I set out across the flat. Distance was deceptive, but I had
calculated fairly closely, and an hour later saw me pacing up the
runway to the entrance of Profaldo.

The guard in the cubicle stared when I stood before him. "You're not a
citizen here," he said. "Do you know what place this is?"

"I know very well," I said. "Here are my papers, signed by the High
Ganymedian Council. Let me pass, please."

The gate slid back, and an instant later I was inside the city.

<tb>

Profaldo! Plague-ridden, feared, legendary! Like its six sister cities,
the place was known throughout the System as a pest-hole, tenanted
by doomed citizenry whose very futility of life made a mockery of
everything decent and law-abiding.

Twenty yards down the street, and I saw indeed that the city was one
vast slum. Gambling holes-in-the-wall stood cheek by jowl with sinister
drink shops, all of them roaring full blast. A drooling fog that dimmed
the intermittent blue street lights gave a grotesque unreality to the
thoroughfare.

Here and there were groups of the inhabitants. Only a few showed
visible signs of the horrible plague,--the greenish, leprous hue to the
face and eyes, the disjointed, shambling walk--but I knew that all of
them had the disease in one or more of its stages.

Following the directions I had memorized so carefully, I went straight
down the street, turned left, then right. Yes, there it was. A
slate-gray building, well out of plumb, with a dingy sign before the
doorway: POWER DIVISION.

I went in. There were no ushers, no reception clerks, only a faint
drone of machinery somewhere below me. A long corridor angled in either
direction with marked doors every few feet. The sixth door bore the
marking: COMMISSIONER.

Even as I looked upon the room's occupant, I knew that this, my initial
step, would be a success. The man was a toad of flesh with little pig
eyes and albino hair. He put down the glass from which he had been
swilling liquor and glared at me. "Complaint department down the hall,"
he said. "This is a private office."

I crossed to the chair beside his desk and sat down. "I'm George
Dulfay," I said quietly, "the new inspector sent by the Council. Will
you sign my papers, please?"

He scowled again and peered at me shrewdly through blood-shot eyes,
but, after a careless glance at the document I had handed him, he
seized a stylus and affixed his signature. Then he raised his eyes to
mine.

"New man, eh?" he grinned. "And what do you think of our fair city?"

"It stinks."

My words prompted no reproach from him. He leaned back and made
steeples of his hands. "Everything's the same," he said. "Four
hundred deaths, four hundred births. One attempted escape resulting
in execution. Flood-water"--he glanced across at the far wall where a
panel bore a series of dials--"water 65.0, oxygen zero-zero, paldine 5."

"And the research bureau?" I questioned. So far, I knew I was playing
my part to satisfaction.

He snorted. "Failures as usual. You and the Council know as well as I
do that there's no cure for the plague."

It was time for the first step, but I didn't hurry it. I got a cheroot
out of my pocket, lit it and blew a shaft of smoke toward the mildewed
ceiling.

"I'll okay the report as usual," I said. "But there's one thing
more. I'll want to buy some of your power. About sixteen thousand
<i>graphlos</i>...."

A wire couldn't have jerked him erect any quicker. "Power!" he
repeated. "Sixteen thousand...." A gleam entered his blood-shot eyes.
"By the Lord Harry! And for what, may I ask?"

I could feel my pulse racing and a hot flush sweep over me, but
outwardly I knew I appeared cool.

"If your Research Bureau here believes there is no cure for the
plague, the Council has different ideas," I said. "We're going to try
an experiment. Sixteen thousand <i>graphlos</i> of polarated power at each
of the seven cities discharged along a common beam with a step-up
transformer between each city. Gargan--he's the new light-ray man in
the Council--believes the radiation from such a charge will completely
nullify the potency of the plague bacillus."

The Commissioner moved to the edge of his chair. He poured himself a
glass of the lavender-colored liquor, drank it and wiped his mouth. "By
the Lord Harry," he said, "you're no inspector. Who the hell are you?"

"You have my papers."

He picked them up again and re-read them carefully. I watched him. I
could feel something cold move up and down my spine. And then with a
wave of relief I saw the first signs of credulity.

"I believe you mean it," he said. "Tell me, do you really think there's
a chance, an escape from this double-damned plague?"

"There's a possibility, but of course it's remote and only in the
embryonic stage. Of course you understand all this is confidential.
Now--where is your power switchboard?"

He touched a bell, said something into a microphone. Then he got up and
extended his hand. "Follow the corridor, Mr. Dulfay. And may Providence
go with you."

Outside the office, reaction seized me, and for a moment I swayed
there, aware of the terrific strain I had been under. The first barrier
was passed. From now on, although there still would be plenty of
danger, my actions for the most part would be routine. I threw away my
cheroot and headed down the corridor.

That corridor ended in a flight of stairs which I climbed to the second
level. Through an archway I passed into the power room proper. Tilted
back in a chair in front of the enormous switchboard, a weazened little
man nodded to me, signifying that he had had his instructions. I went
to work without hesitation, threw over the auxiliary switch, removed
the coil of wire from under my tunic and spliced it directly into the
main conduit.

Finished, I trailed the coil of wire across the room and tossed it out
the open window into the darkness of an alley. I went outside to gather
up the loose ends. A low shed there, housing emergency transformers,
served my purpose admirably. I got the compact little transmitting set
out of my haversack, bracketed it to the wall in a far corner and set
the clockwork to functioning.

Exactly one hour later I was back in my tracto-car, driving across the
flat.

<tb>

If a month ago anyone had told me I would visit not only Profaldo but
each of the seven plague-cities of the High Ganymedian Plateau, I would
have told them they were crazy. That was before I met Hol-Dai.

Hol-Dai was not his real name, of course; that was what they called him
at the mental hospital where I was serving my internship. A patriarch
of a man, one of the early Earth colonists, he had broken down from
excessive research in extraterrestrial medicine, and he was forever
browsing through heavy medical tomes. One day he began talking to me as
usual, and for want of something better to do, I listened.

"My son," he said, "you've heard of the seven plague-cities: Profaldo,
Senar, Caldray, Voltar, Xynan, Malakan, and Klovada?"

I nodded. "Yes, Hol-Dai. Here, take your medicine."

He swallowed the two pills and pointed to a sheet of paper upon which
he had been writing. "Did you know they were the richest cities in the
System?"

"Rich? No, Hol-Dai, you must be wrong. They have nothing but
pestilence."

<tb>

He smiled at that and waggled a finger. "The plague is their
protection, my son. Conquer that, and you will come upon the greatest
treasure known to mankind. Listen...."

Well, I heard him out, patiently at first, then gradually with more
and more interest. It was a madman's story in every detail, and yet
there was something about it that got me. I knew how the seven cities
of the High Ganymedian Plateau were first raided by Conway and his
Earth Brigade after enjoying several thousand years' culture on this,
the third satellite of Jupiter. How the captured emperor of the seven
cities swore a curse of vengeance for the mishandling of his people and
in some unknown way introduced the strange and terrible plague which
was to turn the seven metropoli into pest-holes avoided and shunned by
Earth and Jovian colonists alike.

Then Hol-Dai said something which made me prick up my ears. "Why," he
said, "do you think the emperor introduced that plague? For vengeance
alone? A ruler's vengeance does not go as far as dooming his people
forever. No, my son, for another reason."

I said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"For three thousand years the seven cities had been living off the
plunder of conquered Io and Callisto, the first and second satellites.
And never has it occurred to these fools what has become of that
plunder."

"They probably will, Hol-Dai," I said. "Some day a fleet of space
freighters will carry it all off."

The white-haired old man shook his head. "Not a fleet, my son. A man in
the palm of his hand."

I sat down then, and I asked questions, and after a time I had the
story in its entirety. Both Io and Callisto had been conquered by
the people of Ganymede and had been forced to pay a huge indemnity.
Part of that indemnity came in the form of a stone, called by the
Ganymedians, the Jupiter Stone. That stone, protected by an envelope of
white <i>pinardium</i>, contained a compressed particle of the light-active
rock which formed Jupiter's great red spot. <i>And this stone contained
sufficient inexhaustible power to move the factories and industrial
plants of half the solar system.</i>

I forgot for a moment that Hol-Dai was listed as psychopathically
unbalanced. "Where is this stone?" I demanded.

"It lies in a simple glass case in the old emperor's palace in the city
of Klovada," he replied. "But"--he lifted a warning hand--"do not think
it is as simple as that. The people of the High Ganymedian Plateau were
aware of the value of their treasure and they adopted means to protect
it.

"They protected the stone by surrounding it with a small space warp. As
it lies there now, it is so heavy an army could not lift it."

"Then...?"

"How can it be removed? There is a way, my son, a dangerous, almost
impossible way, but one which I have spent my entire life planning. The
space warp has been devised to have seven focal points, lying along the
plane of the seven cities. I have devised transmitting equipment which
will discharge a beam along this plane, thus nullifying the space warp.
But, to accomplish this, entrance must be made into each of the seven
cities, and that would mean contracting the terrible plague in not one
but all seven of its virulent forms.

"I have taken care of that too. I have compounded a pellet which will
give temporary immunity to the plague if taken at the proper intervals
and...."

Here Hol-Dai's mind gave way again, and he lapsed into unintelligible
babbling.

I mulled over this story for a week. During that time I read over
Hol-Dai's case history and discovered that his lucid intervals were
fairly intermittent and complete. That is, when he was normal, he
remained so until he lost his grip entirely. Next I visited the
place where he had lived before he was confined to the hospital.
My credentials gained me entrance and the right to go through his
possessions. Nothing had been touched. I found his vial of immunity
pellets with full instructions as to dosage. And I found in his
equipment the seven miniature transmitting sets and the necessary
connecting wire. In his papers, however, I searched in vain for
reference to the Jupiter Stone.

But I didn't stop there. I haunted public libraries and the
archives-galleries, always seeking proof for everything Hol-Dai had
told me. Where I didn't always find proof, I found "possibility." The
old man's story could be true.

As I read over the history of Ganymede, the lure, the fascination of
that "stone" swept over me. It became a narcotic, off-setting all
other desires until I knew I must act. I took Hol-Dai's equipment and
his vial of pellets, and I spent one week studying the geographical
layouts of the seven cities. I drove in a tracto-car to the first city
of Profaldo, and as you have seen, I successfully "planted" the first
transmitting set.

"One down, six to go," I told myself grimly. Full confidence was mine,
and my spirits were riding high.

<tb>

Senar, the second city, came out of the haze abruptly. High in the sky
the immense disc of Jupiter cast a reddish light over the metropolis.
As before, all roads leading across the flat converged on a single
runway, leading to the main gate.

I entered, and it seemed time had turned backward, erasing the
intervening hours. For Senar was the same as Profaldo. The same roaring
drink shops and crowd-choked gambling casinos. The same twisting
despondent streets sunk in filth and mockery of the law.

Again I came to the building marked POWER DIVISION. In the
Commissioner's office, however, I was due for a surprise. A girl
turned to me inquiringly.

She was tall, svelte and dark-haired, with agate eyes that bored me
through and through. "Well?" she said.

The same story, the same explanation. I proffered my papers, waited a
diplomatic length of time, then stated that I wished to purchase some
power.

To my astonishment, however, she took the offer matter-of-factly.

"I know," she said. "You are Tepondicon."

"I'm <i>what</i>?"

She smiled. "At least you are the mortal counterpart of that legendary
figure. According to the Ganymedian legends, a great disaster was to
come upon our seven cities and would not be removed until a brave
warrior entered each of the cities and fought it alone. The legends
call that warrior Tepondicon."

"I see," I said. "And you think...?"

"We have the disaster all right in the form of the plague. Now you are
here in an attempt to conquer that plague." She waved a careless hand
at my consternation. "The Commissioner at Profaldo advised me of your
coming. We still do have some communication left, you know."

Tepondicon, eh? It made my role easier. It fitted into my plans nicely.
Before I could say more, she was conducting me down the corridor to the
power room. She stood by, watching over me, as for a second time I made
my necessary connections to the central conduit, and she followed me as
I mounted my second transmitting set on a low revetment in the rear of
the power building.

As I touched the clockwork into motion she grasped my arm.

"There is no need for you to leave immediately, Mr. Dulfay," she said.
"I know very well that you have temporary protection against the
plague. Won't you let me show you more of the city of Senar?"

My better judgment said no; my eyes said yes. She stood there smiling,
carmine lips a bow of allure, agate eyes gleaming. She was clad in a
dress of voltex, and the clinging material revealed every curve and
contour of her figure.

An hour later I found myself in a dimly lighted cafe, surrounded by
high-caste Ganymedians, Jovians and Earth men and women, all in
various stages of intoxication--all, I knew, seeking to conceal their
terror at the relentless death that stalked them.

I sat across a table from the Commissioner of Senar. She was drinking
<i>boca</i>, and she was laughing gayly.

"Come," she said, "forget your troubles. Remember, you are Tepondicon."

But something was wrong. I could feel it with every fibre of my body.
That man looking at me from the opposite table, for one thing. He had
been too casual in his quick appraisal of me, too quick to lower his
eyes when I glanced his way.

And then abruptly it hit me hard. I was Tepondicon, and as such,
my avowed attempt to cure the plague made me a valuable entity, if
controlled by the right persons. A group of power-crazed renegades
could, by holding me, make any terms they desired for my release.

I looked around carefully, seeking a means of escape; and I saw then
other men at other tables, covertly watching me. I drank a full glass
of <i>boca</i>, pretended to drink another, began to feign drunkenness. Then
clumsily I knocked the bottle from the table and staggered to my feet.

"Gotta get more," I hiccupped. "'S'cuse me, please."

Stumbling unsteadily, I weaved my way toward the bar. Halfway across to
it, I swiveled and broke into a run. Instantly a shout of warning rose
up behind me. Through the maze of tables I raced, overturning three of
them with a crash as I passed.

I gained the door. A heat-gun charge slammed into the wall, inches
above my head. Feet pounded in pursuit. Then I was outside, leaping up
the steps to the main level, sprinting down the back street.

I ran until a stitch in my side drew me up. Behind me roared the night
life of the city, but there was no sign of pursuit. I passed through
the main gate without trouble and half an hour later was driving
leisurely across the flat.

<tb>

Profaldo and Senar were behind me. What conditions would I meet in
the next city, Caldray? My wildest dreams did not prepare me for the
reception that was to be mine. Scarcely had I entered Caldray when I
stopped short, staring at the scene ahead. The streets were jammed
with citizenry. In blazing ato-bulbs high overhead was the single word
TEPONDICON. Flags and pennants hung from every balcony.

Even as I moved uncertainly forward, two stalwart men, clad in the
ancient chain mail of Ganymede's earlier years, strode forward. Back
somewhere in the tiers of rectangular buildings the amplified strains
of an orchestra rose up. It was a recording, I knew, but it was
Bokart's <i>Symphony Out of Space</i>, in all its pomp and glory.

A deafening cheer rose up then. I was conducted to a low carriage, and
with two scarlet-clad postilions on either side began my tour of the
city.

"Tepondicon! Tepondicon!" yelled the crowd.

Well, it was confusing, and disconcerting, too. With all eyes focused
upon me, my every movement would be watched. A wrong word, a misstep,
and those cheers would change to death yells. And yet as the carriage
bore me smoothly along the paved streets, the significance of it all
became clear in my mind in every detail.

These people were rats, scum of the System. What matter if their
hopes were falsely raised to the heights? They were doomed anyway by
the plague. And in four days more the Jupiter Stone would be mine.
Up until now, my life had been one great series of failures. At the
Martian School of Technology I had been expelled in my sophomore year
for a mere matter of selling drugs to my fellow students. I had been
cashiered from the Royal Space Force for what the upstart officers
called insubordination. Gamblings, swindlings, I had tried them all
with little luck. This would be my metamorphosis, my emergence from the
cocoon of mediocrity into success.

The procession drew up before the Power Division building. The Power
Commissioner, a tall gangly man this time, waited to receive me at the
top of the steps.

But inside his office, with the roar and hubbub of the streets cut off,
the interview was much the same as the two previous. He passed a box of
cheroots across the desk, leaned back and smoked contentedly.

"And to think," he said, "that a week ago I was ready to join the list
of suicides. Mr. Dulfay, I wonder if you realize what this means to
the people. Freedom from the plague. It seems incredible."

"You must remember," I cautioned, "It's only an experiment as yet. I
can promise nothing."

He waved this aside. "You will be successful," he said. "The hopes of
thousands cannot be denied. And now the power. All we have is at your
disposal."

<tb>

Voltar! Xynan! Malakan! In the fourth, fifth and sixth cities
everything worked like clockwork. My welcome in each succeeding
metropolis was greater than the last. Crowds screamed "<i>Tepondicon!</i>"
to the echo. The cities must have ransacked every corner of their
confines to festoon their battlements and parapets with tinsel. Hope
was hysteria. The black spectre of the plague was pushed to the
background. As the legendary hero, Tepondicon, I was the embodiment of
all their dreams and hopes.

Before entering each city I swallowed three of Hoi-Dai's pellets.
Before leaving, I tapped the power centers and put transmitting sets in
operation.

And now Klovada, the seventh and final city. In a few hours my beam
would be discharged along the planes of the seven cities. The space
warp would be nullified. Remained then only to go to the royal palace,
open the glass case and remove the Jupiter Stone. With that stone my
life would begin anew. No more swindlings or petty thieveries. I would
be king in my own right.

I did not realize the strain under which I had been living until the
official reception in Klovada was over and I was ushered into the
Commissioner's office. There I slumped wearily into a chair and waited
impatiently for him to enter.

The Commissioner was a girl. Not a girl like the seductress of Senar,
but a small dainty child with golden hair and blue eyes. She strode
forward briskly, a pleasant smile on her lips, and extended her hand.

"I bid you welcome, Sir Tepondicon," she said. "You have reached the
end of your goal."

There was something in her tone of voice that made me look at her
sharply. Could it be possible that she suspected...?

"You have come a long way," she said, speaking slowly. "You have
braved many dangers, and you have conducted yourself in a most ethical
manner. May I ask, Mr. Dulfay, what your personal profit will be in
this venture?"

"No profit," I said easily. "A scientist has only research as his aim.
That and the welfare of the people."

She nodded. "Still, it is unusual for a man to risk so much."

"About the matter of power," I broke in. "As you know, I'll need
sixteen thousand <i>graphlos</i> and...."

She seemed not to hear. A distant look entered her blue eyes. "Tell me,
Mr. Dulfay, have you ever heard of an artifact kept here in Klovada
known as the Jupiter Stone?"

I went slowly rigid. The girl breathed deeply and continued. "Some
time ago a great scientist communicated with me as overchief of
power-control of the seven cities and outlined a plan similar to the
one in which you are now engaged. He was a great man, but under stress
of excessive work, his mind broke. He was taken to a mental hospital,
where I am told he is now known by the simple name of Hol-Dai.

"Before his illness Hol-Dai worked out a method to overcome the plague.
It was simple. A person would visit each of the seven cities. He would
have temporary protection against the plague, but of course he would
become a carrier for the germs. When he finally reached Klovada, the
final city, he would be a walking vial of the bacillus in all its seven
forms.

"Now the Jupiter Stone, of which I spoke before. It is a great thing,
capable of generating untold amounts of power, if properly harnessed.
So far, however, the scientists have been unable to move it because
it lies protected by a small but peculiar form of space warp. But the
stone has other potentialities. This man, Hol-Dai, discovered that it
will transform the plague bacillus from a positive form to a negative
form.

"In other words if this hypothetical visitor of the seven cities were,
at the end of his journey, to expose himself to the radiations of
the Jupiter Stone, a curious event would take place. He would become
a carrier for bacilli which, when released, would immediately begin
to combat the plague. Practically an anti-toxin, you see. Again,
continuing our hypothetical case, if this man were to retrace his
steps, again visiting each of the seven cities, it is estimated this
action would result in the complete end of the plague within a period
of months."

"I see," I said. Far back in a corner of my mind a doubt was beginning
to grow. "Why hasn't this been done before?"

She smiled. "Because until you came no one knew how to acquire
temporary protection against the disease and no one had the courage to
expose himself to it without that protection. Now I am aware that you
have found that protection. But as you must know, if you let yourself
be struck by the radiations of the Jupiter Stone, you would die within
six weeks!"

"You mean...?"

"I mean that if you go through with your role as Tepondicon you will
never live to know your glory."

<tb>

She tapped her pencil on the desk. "I might add that Hol-Dai also told
us of a plan to nullify the space warp surrounding the Jupiter Stone.
Since his sickness, however, that plan has remained a mystery."

I breathed easier. So Hol-Dai had not tricked me. But this girl with
all her babbling of curing the plague must be an utter fool. What did I
care about cure? It was the stone I wanted!

She looked across at me. "I don't know who or what you are, Mr. Dulfay,
but please listen to me a moment. Once these seven cities were the
pride of the Jovian System. Their people were lighthearted, gay and
strong. True, in their earlier years they exploited their neighbors
on Io and Callisto, but that was long ago. For generations they were
engaged in peaceful pursuits--trade, industry, commerce.

"Look at them now. Pest-holes where vice and sin run rampant, where
hope has vanished, where there is no tomorrow, but only today!
Conceive, if you can, the utter curse of that plague. To know with
absolute finality that you are impregnated with it and that only death
awaits you. And then consider this legend of Tepondicon. Not a mighty
warrior, not a knight clad in armor, but a simple man sacrificing his
own life for the lives of other men. It is the ultimate glory."

She rose to her feet. "Mr. Dulfay, I leave you now. But I call your
attention to the two doors leading from this office. The one by which
you came is the exit. It leads to the street, and from the street one
can make his way to the palace and so on to the Jupiter Stone. The
stone is unguarded. If the space warp were done away with, it could be
taken easily.

"The other door leads to the radiation chamber, the room which
was devised by Hol-Dai. There, by means of special equipment, the
radiations from the Jupiter Stone are transmitted to a screen. If you
enter this room and sit before the screen, within a period of twenty
minutes the plague germs your body is now carrying will be negatived.
You can then make your return visits to the six other cities. The
plague will be conquered, but you will die."

She moved across to the exit. "It is for you to decide," she said. "All
I can say is that one way leads to the ultimate glory."

She went out and I stood there in a daze. For five minutes I didn't
move. Glory, she had said. Yes, there would be glory, something which
had played no part heretofore in my life. But likewise there would be
death. The same death which awaited the doomed citizenry of the seven
doomed cities. On the other hand was the Jupiter Stone, embodying all I
had fought for.

I walked across to the desk and sat down in the chair before it. I
must put my thoughts and actions of the past days on paper. I must
record everything. If I chose the plague door, it would be my last
testament--and a monument. If I took the street door, set up my
transmitting set--and finally gained the Jupiter Stone, it would be
a condemnation--a curse--to dog me the rest of my days. Honor versus
dishonor, balanced against life versus death.

<i>It is this document you are now reading!</i>

At the end of an hour I stood up and neatly folded the paper. The air
was hot, stifling. Somewhere a mercury clock pulsed rhythmically. Then,
with a little laugh, I strode across the room toward one of the doors.

Of course, you all know which door I opened.
{'title': 'Tepondicon by Carl Jacobi', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}