The 53rd Golden Age of Science Fiction MEGAPACK; Geoff St. Reynard

by Geoff St. Reynard

  As he sank into thick-witted stupor, then fought up to the light of reason, feeling his mind ebb and flow with ideas and mad conjectures, it came to him that he knew the truth of the giants, and had not stated it to himself before in so many words. He had deliberately shied away from it, in fact, for it stank of fantasy, of crack-brained superstition and imbecilic fairy tales....

  Admit it, he told himself, giggling in the far reaches of his brain. Admit it. You know about these critters, Pink.

  Yes. I know about them. They are the djinn.

  The djinn that Solomon ruled, conquered, and put down. The enormous entities of Arabian Nights tales, whose habits and character and shrewd-canny-gullible ways of thinking were all set down in the books and marveled at by people even yet, hundreds and hundreds of years after they had been written. Marveled, sure, but marveled only at the imaginations that had produced them. And it wasn’t imagination at all. It was the real actual goddam solid thing.

  The djinn had been at once a triumph and a sad mistake of nature. They were the ultimate in physical perfection, needing nothing, living perfectly independently, huge and strong and yet able to assume the tiniest proportions when needed. Wounds were nothing, for their makeup was such that their molecules compressed away from weapons, to ooze back into place when danger was past. They controlled the forces of the atom, at least to the extent of ability to freeze protons, and probably they could do many more stunts in that line.

  All their powers, being far in advance of man’s, had been misunderstood and misinterpreted in the old days. So when a djinni let his atoms flow into the most convenient shape for getting into bottles for alcohol or for passing an obstruction he didn’t care to demolish, it seemed to men that he turned into a cloud of smoke. Hadn’t Pink used that simile to himself?

  The fact that they could levitate, probably by control of the force of gravity, and fly through the thin upper air, by some process Pink only dimly understood, was certainly enough to stamp them as minor gods in Arabia and all the other countries they had infested.

  Sure, they were a triumph of nature; but also a colossal failure. For they were, despite their scientific powers, too stupid for pity, too insensitive for compassion, and too egocentric for tolerance. Their nature was that of the most depraved human being. Consequently they’d been beaten. In spite of their terrific strength, they’d been beaten by puny, unscientific, bumbling man.

  How?

  Well, Solomon had known about the lead. He’d sealed them in copper bottles with stoppers of lead, and Pink would bet a buck those bottles had been lead-lined, too. Solomon hadn’t gone far enough, of course; he’d thrown the bottles into the sea, and sometimes they’d washed up and been opened. For bait, he must have used alcohol, too, since it was the Achilles heel of the djinn.

  Had he nailed the entire breed of djinn in his lifetime? It seemed likely, for the legends stopped soon afterwards, didn’t they? Pink wasn’t sure. Anyway, there sure as hell weren’t any djinn on Earth today.

  How had they gotten out here, all the way to Star System Ninety? That was beyond conjecture. How come the first brute he had contacted, old Ynohp the phony Martian, spoke a kind of messed-up Shakespearian lingo? God only knew.

  Now he’d discovered them, anyway, and they wanted to go back to Earth. If they got hold of the Elephant’s Child, they might do it. He couldn’t let them succeed ... but then the crew was going to blow up the ship in two hours.

  Two hours!

  Pinkham’s mind beat wildly at the prison of lethargy and dimmed consciousness. How long had he lain here? Where was he lying? Did the giants, the djinn, have him? And Circe?

  Circe. Making the most intense and painful effort of his life, Pink dragged his eyes open and tried to sit up. He had to find Circe.

  He saw nothing, and there was a weight on him that held him flat on his back. Either his lamp was broken, or he was blind.

  Sensibly, though it cost him untold hell to be sensible, Pink lay quietly until he felt all his faculties under control. Then he made an abrupt and violent attempt to sit up. Whatever it was that was holding him down rolled off. He managed to get to his knees, one hand on the rock beneath him, and then arms were thrown around him and a body pressed against his.

  The horror of absolute blackness and the unknown predicament he was in proved just a little too much for him. Captain Pinkham gave a loud, long scream of fear.

  CHAPTER XX

  “What is it?” asked Circe, her voice wild with fright. “Pink, darling, what is it? Are you hurt?”

  It was Circe who was holding him. Sobbing with relief, he said into the radio, “No, no, baby, I’m fine, I’m wonderful.”

  Her answering cry was a tiny sound of joy and affection. “I wish I could kiss you,” she said, “but there are two spacesuits in the way.”

  He found her hand and squeezed it hard. “I wish I could see you, Smitty,” he said, “but either I’m blind or—”

  “Oh, I should have told you at once. I turned off our chest-lamps.”

  “But where are we?”

  “Not far from where you fell.” Her hand was a comfort in his, as much so as a squad of Space Marines marching down to greet them would have been. “You flew past me like a kicked football, Pink, and I veered off to see if you were okay. When you fell and didn’t move, the first thing I did was snap off the lamps. About a second afterwards, the giants went past. They have a weird kind of glow in the dark. I think they could have seen us—certainly they don’t exist blind in this ink-pool—but there’s a ridge of rock and we were pretty well hidden behind it. I dragged you about forty feet and found this hole and we’ve been lying here ever since.”

  “The others,” he said, remembering.

  “I’ve been in touch with Daley all the time. He and Calico ran into a lot of trouble and Calico got a broken leg. Joe Silver took him back to the ship. Daley and Jerry found each other and fought off a horde of giants. Every man got all his bottles full of ‘specimens’ and then used up most of his lead. Sparks—” she hesitated a moment—“Sparks is dead. So is Randy Kinkare.”

  Pink said quietly into the dark, “I don’t think Randy would mind that. He didn’t have much of a face left.”

  “Whatever that first one did to burn him, that’s the weapon they used on him and Sparks. Both of them were burnt to a....”

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay.”

  “So Daley said they’d try to find us; but everyone got mixed up in the caves, and there hasn’t been a sign or sound of anyone for half an hour.”

  “Half an hour?” The flesh chilled down his back. “How long have I been out?”

  “I don’t know. A couple of hours.”

  “My Lord! The Elephant’s Child is to be blown up two hours from the minute we left her!”

  “Daley said Silver was going to countermand that order.”

  Pink groaned heavily. “He can’t! Jackson had my absolute command on it, and Jackson would see himself and Silver and the whole lot of them dead before he’d fail to carry out a command of mine. That was important; we calculated that two hours was more than enough to expend all the ammo, and that if we weren’t back by then, the hull would be crawling with giants. Every bullet aboard came out with us. We couldn’t take the chance of the ship blasting off with giants on her, maybe in the form of gnats or smoke or—no,” he finished, “Silver, if he tried to change my order, is either dead or unconscious or in the brig right now.” He lifted his left hand. “I’ve got to check the time,” he said, and for an instant switched on the dial of his glove watch.

  It was a hundred and two minutes after landing time.

  He had eighteen minutes to get back to the Elephant’s Child.

  CHAPTER XXI

  He beamed his radio to its fullest extent. “Daley,” he said. “Daley, come in. Jerry. Cohan. Caleskie. Kole. Come in, anyone.”

  “Kole here, Captain. I’m on the plain. It was all fouled up in that cave.”

  “What can you see?”<
br />
  “They’ve got the big trap out of the ship,” said the distant, tinny voice of the crewman. “What a waste of good liquor! Beg your pardon, Captain.”

  “Giants?” Pink asked.

  “About a million of ‘em, all headed for the trap. We should have tried it first. Did you know Caleskie got his?”

  “No, I didn’t know. We had to suck them out into the open before they could spot the trap, Kole. Is Lieutenant Daley in sight?”

  “I saw him a while back, sir. He was headed out of a cave with the O. O. But it turned out they were going the wrong way, because I—”

  “Thanks, Kole. Report aboard ship. Don’t get mixed up with the giants.”

  “They won’t bother me, sir. It’s like a bunch of big bees tearing after a vat of nectar out here. They don’t even see me.”

  “What did he mean?” asked Circe. “A trap?”

  “Plastikoided lead box, twelve by twelve feet. All the alcohol in the ship was poured into it an hour after we left, and they set it outside as far from the ship as they could safely go. I didn’t know it would work, but it was a try. It still doesn’t affect Jackson’s orders. I didn’t know, I still don’t know, but that some of the djinn can resist the stuff.”

  “The what?” she asked, startled.

  “Never mind. We’ve got about a quarter hour to get back. Where in blazes is Daley?”

  A small, weakened voice said in his ear, “I’m here, Pink. Jerry too. But he’s out cold. I don’t feel so hot myself.”

  “Daley!” he roared. “Where are you?”

  “Big cave, about size of Texas. Came across it trying to find our way out. Lot of giants here. One of them saw us and picked us up and banged us together. I think he must be saving us for a hearty lunch. He’s sitting ten feet off watching us.”

  “Your guns, boy!”

  “No good. All the slugs are gone. Pink,” said the weak, worried voice, “do you know what time it is? You better hightail it for the ship.”

  “I’m coming after you,” said Pink.

  “Don’t be a heroic son of a space cook, Pink!”

  “Shut up and lie still.” He switched his radio to close quarters. “Honey, you make for the Child. I’ll pick up the boys and be right with you.”

  “You’re crazy,” she said flatly. “I wouldn’t leave you if—”

  He had switched on his chest lamp and drawn out a pen and paper from his pocket kit. “I’m going to write Jackson a note countermanding the order. Take it to him.”

  “You’re wasting your time,” she said grimly. “If you’re going into the cave, I’m going too.”

  “You fathead, you can save the ship by taking this note.”

  “You’re doing it to save me. I won’t. What happens to you happens to me.”

  “My God the whole damn ship—”

  “Doesn’t matter to me if you’re gone, Pink.” Her voice was strange, half-hysterical and oddly loving. “I don’t know why I feel this way about you, Pink. I’ve never been in love before. If I hadn’t been stranded, I’d be old enough to be your mother. You’re a big cold dedicated spaceman, but I love you. Lead the way, if you’re going to make a fool of yourself.”

  * * * *

  In that moment Pink learned wisdom, for he gave up his attempt at a note and bounded to his feet. Some well-spring of instinct had told him that a man could never argue a woman out of anything.

  “Got your automatic?”

  “And a full clip left.”

  “Come on, baby.”

  They ran down the cavernous corridor, grotesque tiny fleas making unbelievable leaps. In seconds they had entered the grotto.

  Many, too many giants were still there. Some of them seemed not to have seen anything of the hectic occurrences, others were standing in small groups (if anything formed of thousand-foot beings could be called small, thought Pink as he rocketed along) motioning hugely to one another.

  “Stay close,” he called to Circe. She was moving as fast as he, her light frame an asset. They ran down one side of the cavern, ignoring giants who did not at first notice them. Pink beamed out his radio and said, “Daley! Locate yourself.” “I’m in the cavern.”

  “You ape,” said Daley, “why’d you come? We’re in front of an entrance that’s the middle one of three. Spot it?”

  “I see four sets of three,” said Pink, heading for the nearest as his heart sank.

  “Sorry, I can’t see any more than these. Be careful, old boy.” There was a pause. “We have twelve minutes left,” said the senior lieutenant calmly.

  The first of the triple entrances—had they been built, or were they natural?—was at hand. Three gigantic djinn sat near them. The ground, uneven as a lava flow solidified, might have concealed a score of humans. Pink gave a high leap, surveyed the terrain as he floated down. Nobody here. But a giant saw him.

  Pink shot him in the ankle and dived like a skin-swimmer between his legs. He had lost Circe. He pivoted, wide-eyed, and saw her beneath the skyscraper torso of a bending giant. Their lamps were drawing attention now. He saw her shoot the titan and fly off at a tangent, disappearing behind others of the enemy.

  Sixth sense warning prickled his neck. He whirled again to pot at a groping hand the size of a ten-story house; the hand contracted, bunched, groped outward and was hidden as the body fell upon it. Pink saved himself by a frantic backward shove that jolted him into the wall. Circe sped by and he followed, shouting into his radio. They joined hands and aimed for the next entrances, a mile down the hall.

  Four speeding djinn abruptly barred their path, express-flying down on them.

  CHAPTER XXII

  “I know how a fly feels,” gasped the girl. “I’ll never wield another swatter.”

  Pink had emptied his Colt. He tried reloading on the run, or rather, he thought wryly, on the bounce, but it was a tricky job. And he had only about a dozen shells left.

  Circe shot another angry monster. If lead took just two seconds longer to work on those immense systems, Pink realized, he and Circe would have been squashed long since. They had fought down half the hall, past three of the triple entrances, and now there was only one to check on. If Daley and Jerry weren’t there, they might as well give up; the ship would go scattering into the void in about five minutes.

  They had to watch backwards as well as before them. The giants were nearly all in motion now, the milling of such throngs of them having caught the vacant stares of those who had been gaping at nothing.

  And suddenly there was Daley, standing before them and holding the limp spacesuited form of Jerry Jones in his arms. “Hey, Pink,” he said, “down here.”

  Pinkham blasted two foemen in the hands as they grasped for him. “Like fighting giant redwoods,” said Circe indistinctly, panting. They joined the two officers, jumping and digging in their heels to halt sharply.

  “We have to make for that,” said Pink, waving across the grotto at the invisible hole which led to the plain. “Straight through these dam Alps of aliens.” He shot over Circe’s head. “How you feeling?”

  “Little rocky,” said Daley.

  “Take the Colt, then.” He shoved it into the lieutenant’s hand and hoisted Jerry like a rag out of Daley’s arms. “Come on,” he barked. “And don’t get slapped. That’s an order.” He ran.

  Their combined chest-lamps beamed out a couple of miles as they headed for the home stretch. Across the light passed the giant djinn, moving to waylay them, standing mountain-steady to intercept. Circe rocketed into the lead and led them on a zigzag course that avoided the vast parodies of human feet which barred the way like river dams.

  They had had uncanny luck thus far. Why? Probably the giants were sluggish from long inactivity. Too, Pink knew, it’s hard to hit a small darting object that’s not more than one-one-hundred-and-sixty-sixth of your size. And the lead slugs of their guns had turned many sure captures into escapes.

  But now the guns were empty.

  “Feet,” said Pink, quoting a
n ancient joke, “feet, do your stuff!”

  Circe was amazing, dodging and pirouetting and even hurdling the gross feet when they couldn’t be side-stepped. Pink gamely followed her lead, Jerry now slung over his shoulder. There was panting in his ears—Daley must be having tough going. Then he recognized the deep wheezing breaths: they were his own.

  “Daley?” he gasped.

  “Right behind you, Pink.”

  The mouth of their corridor was in sight. Then there were djinn, a row of them standing side by side with feet firmly planted to make a barrier. My God, he thought, this is it! Circe vanished, he did not see where. The feet were there, and arms reaching down for him. He pitched sideways, flipped by a questing finger; crashed on his shoulder, rolled, still miraculously hanging onto Jerry. The brashest course was the only one. He gathered himself and jumped onto a toe. It was as hard as the rock. And this thing, he said irrelevantly in his mind, this massive piece of solidity can vaporize into a gin bottle! He slid down the toe and scuttled ratlike under the lofty legs and was in the clear. The tunnel, itself an astoundingly high cave, appeared directly before him.

  There was no time now to look for Circe and Daley, vital though their safety was to him. He carried Jerry into the tunnel and loped with multiyarded strides for the plain. He could not see any lamp-glare but his own. But he could not stop. Humanity in that instant overcame all his private desires. There were fifty-eight souls who would be blotted out if he didn’t make the Elephant’s Child in two minutes. Sixty-one, if you counted Daley and Circe and Pink himself. In less than one of those minutes he had traversed the tunnel and come out above the plain.

  The ship was still there. Some distance away from it stood the big trap, and even yet giants were speeding toward it from all points of the compass. Pink gasped a breath and launched himself out and down the steep hillside. He took it all in that one jump. As he was landing, a curiously weightless man on this tiny planetoid, Jerry came to life and writhed suddenly in his arms, upsetting his balance. Pink fell and his left ankle shrieked with pain as it turned under him and was smashed into the gray rock by his dropping body and Jerry’s.