But the bombers were late.
“They better show up soon,” said Dolfen. “Take a look at those clouds off to the west. A storm’s coming for sure. A few hours off yet, but they sure won’t want to be flying once it gets here!”
“Might be useful for us, though, old boy. Give us a spot of cover to make our withdrawal.”
“True. I don’t relish the idea of staying here until dark.” He looked north. They had put the horses in one of the small gullies that crisscrossed the area, but once they mounted up they would be visible for miles.
They waited another half hour as it got hotter and hotter; it might be September, but summer wasn’t over yet. “Maybe I should try the radio again.”
“I’d advise against it. We found out in Afghanistan that those beggars can track our signals if we broadcast too much. Might lead them right to us.”
Dolfen frowned, but the Englishman was probably right. Despite his foppish manner, Bridges did seem to know what he was doing. An experienced cavalryman and a good rider who had fought Martians himself, defending Britain’s colony in India. They settled down to wait some more, but only a little while later Dolfen heard a faint buzzing. He rolled over on his back and swept the eastern sky with his field glasses. “I think I hear something.”
“Yes, I do, too. Can you see them?”
“No, I… wait. There they are!” He pointed to a swarm of dark specks.
“I don’t see… oh, yes, now I do. How many do you think?”
“Looks like about thirty to me…”
“They certainly are high up, aren’t they? Can barely see them.”
“They have to stay high to avoid the heat rays. The bastards can torch a plane two miles up, so they stay a bit higher than that.”
“Can they even see the target from that high?”
“I sure hope so! Don’t want them hitting us by mistake. But the walls of the fortress must look like a giant bull’s-eye from above. They’d have to be blind not to see it.”
The specks slowly crept across the sky. As they got closer, Dolfen could make them out clearly. They were twin-engine planes built by the Glenn Martin Company—or so Colonel Selfridge had told him; Dolfen had little interest in the nuts and bolts of aviation. Even so, he was impressed by the size of the bombers. He remembered the tiny and flimsy craft that were the best available just a few short years ago. We’re learning. We’re learning fast. But will it be fast enough?
“I looks like the Martians have seen them, too,” said Bridges.
Dolfen redirected his attention from the planes to the enemy. The tripods, which had been striding back and forth, for all the world like human soldiers on sentry, had stopped. He half-expected them to lean backward to look up like a human, but they did not. They were faced in the direction of the oncoming planes, however, and they had raised their heat rays.
“Sure hope those blokes have their altitude right,” said Bridges.
“Amen to that.”
The planes were nearly overhead now and Dolfen flinched when the buzz-saw shriek of the heat rays pierced the air. On a bright day like this, the rays were hard to see, but they were clearly directed skyward. He looked up at the planes again and focused his glasses. The formation flew onward in a stately fashion, and to his relief, none of them burst into flames. Looking closer, he thought he saw small objects falling from them. “I think they just dropped their bombs!”
He tried to follow them down but lost sight of them. He lowered the glasses and looked out toward the enemy fortress. The seconds ticked by, and after a dozen or so, he thought he heard a whistling sound. A half-dozen more and suddenly geysers of smoke erupted from the walls. A heartbeat later, the deep rumble of the explosions made the ground tremble. More geysers and more booms but then it was over. The echoes died away and the smoke and dust from the bombs merged into a single huge cloud which slowly rose and drifted east. Dolfen eagerly brought the glasses to his eyes and scanned the fortress for damage.
“Anything?” asked Bridges.
“Not… not much, damn it. Maybe a couple of their ray towers wrecked, and a few craters in the wall. Nothing burning, it doesn’t seem.” He cursed again. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect much. General Funston bombarded the Gallup fort for months without doing any serious damage. The reports we got from inside said that pretty much everything was deep underground. The only way to root ‘em out is to go in there and do it ourselves.”
“Pity,” said Bridges. “Still, it can’t hurt to let the bastards know we can hit them even at this distance.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Seems like a lot of effort for little harm, though.” He looked back up at the bombers and watched them turn east and disappear. Looking west, he saw the storm was still building and definitely closer. Another hour or so and they’d have a real gully-washer from the look of it. “I think we’ll have all the cover we need to get out of here pretty soon.” He told the two troopers to make sure the horses were ready.
He studied the fortress through glasses a while longer, making notes on a pad of paper. He was just putting away the glasses and his notes when there was a sudden commotion from the gully where the horses were being kept. Loud whinnying, followed by human cursing, and then to his dismay one of the horses bolted out of the gully into the open, dragging one of the troopers who clutched its reins.
He sprinted toward it, but Bridges got there faster and managed to halt the beast. Dolfen was there a moment later and between the three men they got the horse under control. “What the hell happened?!” demanded Dolfen.
“A goddamn jackrabbit, sir!” said the exasperated trooper. “I flushed it out of a bush by accident and this fool horse thought the thing was gonna eat him, I guess!”
“Oh, for God’s sake! The damn thing ignores bombs and heat rays, but it’s spooked by a rabbit?”
“Bloody hell,” said Bridges. “The cad has gone and given us away, Captain. Look.”
Dolfen spun around, and to his horror the two tripods he’d seen earlier were now heading their way! “Shit! Mount up! Ride!”
All four men jumped into their saddles and spurred their mounts into motion, leaving a fair amount of their gear lying on the ground. There wasn’t a second to spare and they all knew it. Even the horses seemed to sense the danger, and being rested, they tore across the prairie as fast as they could.
Dolfen looked back and cursed. The Martians were far closer than he’d like, very nearly in heat ray range already. He probably had as much experience being chased by Martians as any man alive and he didn’t like what he saw. A galloping horse could outdistance a tripod pretty easily, especially on flat ground like this, but a horse would get tired and the enemy machines never did. Worse, the two on their tails looked to be scouts. For the first few years of the war, the Martians had only had one type of fighting machine. They were powerful, tough to destroy, and while faster than a man on foot, significantly slower than a horse. But in the last year or two, they’d started to see other types. One was a bit smaller, less heavily armed and armored, but significantly faster. The army had designated the first types as ‘attack tripods’, and the smaller ones ‘scout tripods’. Scouts still couldn’t keep up with a galloping horse, but they didn’t lose as much ground as an attack tripod, and when the horse had to slow down…
Bridges clearly saw it too. “Going to be a damn near thing to get back to your squadron before they catch us up, old man,” he shouted. There hadn’t been any covered spots close to the enemy fortress big enough to conceal the whole squadron so he’d left them about ten miles away and gone forward in the night with just Bridges and the other two. “Could you use the wireless to call them to us?”
“It takes five minutes to set up!” he shouted back. “Those bastards would have us before we could get the message off! Turn to the west!” he yelled to all of them. “Head for the storm!”
They veered to the left toward a wall of black clouds that was growing and building at an amazing pace. He could see flashes o
f lightning and gray sheets of rain connecting the clouds with the ground. It was a real squall line, and if they could get in there, they had a good chance of giving the Martians the slip.
A strong gust of wind suddenly hit them in the face and Dolfen’s hat was torn away. Dust clouds were kicked up and stung his eyes. A few large drops of rain started hitting them, driven by the wind hard enough to sting. Glancing back, he could see that the Martians were coming on. If they could stay ahead of them for a few more minutes…
He heard the heat rays fire, but they were faint, barely to be heard above the wind. A sudden warmth on his back made him wince, but it wasn’t bad, just like standing in front of a fire. They were still out of range. But the horses didn’t like it and they put out a burst of speed. A moment later the heat cut off.
The rain was heavier now and the wind even stronger; bits of debris went flying past. They galloped across an abandoned wheat field and jumped the remains of a wire fence, the wreck of a farmhouse still stood in the distance.
“I say! What the devil is that?!” cried Bridges suddenly. Instinctively, Dolfen looked back at the Martians, but they were just as they’d been. What was the Englishman talking about?
“Over there!” The man pointed. Dolfen stared ahead and swallowed down sudden fear. Barely visible through the rain was a rotating column of dust and debris. It was dark, although slightly lighter than the clouds behind it, bits of stuff drifted around it and a roar like a freight train was growing.
“A twister!” cried one of the troopers.
“A what?” shouted Bridges.
“A tornado! A cyclone!” yelled Dolfen. It was almost directly in their path and seemed to be moving toward them and to the right, as though it would pass to the north of them. It was still a ways off, but it was moving fast. He stared at it a moment longer and then made his decision.
“Follow me! Head north!” He turned his horse to the right.
“But sir!” screamed one of the troopers. “It’s headed that way, too! We should go south!”
“Better that than the Martians! Now come on!” he spurred his horse, although it hardly needed more encouragement to run. The tornado was now off to his left, but the distance was closing with terrifying swiftness. Would they be able to get past it? If he’d guessed wrong, it would herd them right back into the Martians’ heat rays - if it didn’t kill them outright.
Closer and closer the thing came. It was enormous, easily half a mile wide, maybe more. He had caught sight of a few small ones during his time in the army, but always from a safe distance. This close, the power of the thing was unbelievable. He shifted his course more to the east, trying to get around it.
The wall of darkness filled half the world now, blotting out everything to his left. Larger objects were hurtling past, but the wind was now coming from behind them, pushing them onward. Bridges came abreast of him, hat gone and mouth wide. He was shouting something, but the roar was all-encompassing; nothing else could be heard.
And then the noise and the blackness was more to the rear of them, the sky ahead was brighter. Had they made it past? He twisted around in his saddle and yes, the tornado was crossing behind them! Exhilaration filled him. They could swing west again and find cover before the Martians could…
The Martians!
He suddenly caught sight of one of the machines. The damn thing was standing right in the tornado’s path! Didn’t the fools know what it was - or what it could do? Apparently not, because the tripod was standing its ground and as he watched, it fired its heat ray right into the oncoming funnel-cloud.
The ray had no effect whatsoever. It did ignite some of the debris the tornado was carrying and for a moment streaks of red fire wrapped around the funnel. But then the edge reached the machine and it was lifted bodily into the air! Dolfen watched in wonder - and jubilation - as the enemy was carried up and up until it disappeared in the cloud. He continued to stare, hoping to see the tornado spit the bastard back out again and watch it smashed to bits on the ground, but there was nothing. Clearly it had killed the invader somewhere Dolfen couldn’t see. Of the other tripod there was no sign; destroyed, too, or retreated, he didn’t know.
“By Jove! That was really quite something, wasn’t it?” said Bridges coming up beside him again, a lunatic grin on his face.
“Sure was! But come on, let’s find some cover just in case the other one is still there after it passes!”
* * * * *
Cycle 597, 844.8, Holdfast 32-4
Qetjnegartis was inspecting the damage from the prey-creature’s aerial attack when the message from Xasdandar arrived. It and Faldprenda had been sent in pursuit of a small party of prey who Qetjnegartis suspected had some connection with the attack.
“Commander Qetjnegartis, respond please.”
“Responding. Report.”
“Commander, I regret to report that Faldprenda has been slain.”
Qetjnegartis instantly focused its attention on this unexpected information. “How?” The most obvious answer would be some sort of an ambush. It prepared to order out a larger force to deal with it.
“It… it was destroyed by an… atmospheric phenomenon, Commander. I have never witnessed anything like it.”
“Explain.”
“We were pursuing the prey-creatures as you ordered. We encountered a storm and the prey attempted to take cover in it. We followed. But then we encountered a column of air which was spinning at very high speed. Faldprenda’s fighting machine was caught in it.”
“And this air was able to destroy its machine?” That scarcely seemed possible.
“Yes, Commander. It was so strong it lifted it off the ground and to a high altitude before dropping it again. It landed with such force, the machine was shattered in many pieces and Faldprenda was slain. I have recorded images I can send you.”
“Do so.” Its subordinate complied and Qetjnegartis watched the images with a sense of wonder. It was astonishing, but there was no doubt. “Amazing. There have been sightings of these phenomena by others, but no close encounters with them. We never suspected they could do such damage! We must take precautions to avoid them in the future.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“And what of the prey you were pursuing?”
“They may have been destroyed by the same phenomenon, Commander. I could find no trace of them once the storm had passed.”
“Very well, return to the holdfast. I will dispatch a salvage team to recover the remains of the fighting machine. I am also concerned about this party of prey-creatures. They grow increasingly bold and I dislike their ability to spy upon our activities. There are also many of the non-warriors still at large in these regions. We must be more aggressive in our patrolling and harvesting.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Qetjnegartis issued the orders, but was disturbed by this senseless loss. The target world held many surprises, some of them deadly. How many more will we discover to our loss? We had hoped that this place would be the salvation of the Race. Will it be the source of our destruction instead?
* * * * *
September, 1911, east of Augusta, Arkansas
“Well, that was bloody well amazing, Captain! Do you have things like that around here often?”
Frank Dolfen smiled at the Britisher and nodded. “This time of year? Yeah, I guess we do. Thunderstorms seem to cause ‘em. Mostly in the flat lands, though. Kansas, Oklahoma, Iowa, parts of Missouri. Not quite so much down here in Arkansas, where it’s not so flat, nor farther east or north. I spent years in the Dakotas and they were pretty rare up there.”
“How on Earth do people manage to live in such a country?”
Dolfen shrugged. “I guess they’re used to ‘em. Most folks have storm cellars - sort of underground bunkers - to shelter in if one comes too close.”
“That one definitely came too close!”
“Maybe so, but we were damn lucky it did. Come on, let’s get out of here and back to the squadron.”
“Sounds like ya had quite the adventure t’day, Cap’n!” Gosling, who everyone called ‘the Goose’, was an old veteran, even older than Dolfen, who himself had recently reached his twenty-year mark, and was not quite all there in the head anymore. Dolfen wasn’t sure how he’d managed to find his way into the rebuilt 5th Cavalry, but he liked him and he did his job well enough.
“Yeah, damn near rode a twister home tonight.”
“Saw the storm off t’the south of us. Looked like a bad one.”
“Worst I ever saw. Glad it didn’t get any closer to you.”
“I remember one I saw when I was stationed down in Texas. We were near Pecos an’…”
“Goose?”
“Sir?”
“Have the officers join me in a half hour.”
“Yes, sir. More stew?”
“No, this is fine, thanks.” The man went out and Dolfen finished his supper and lay down on his cot for a few minutes. He didn’t intend to sleep, but started awake when Gosling shook his shoulder.
“They’re here sir.”
He sat up, a little embarrassed, and went out under the tent fly. The lieutenants commanding the four troops of the squadron were there along with his aide, Lieutenant Lynnbrooke, and Major Bridges. “Evening, gentlemen, I trust you had a less eventful day than the major and I.” This produced a small chuckle. His officers were all very young and seemed to treat him with the sort of automatic respect you gave a grandfather or elderly uncle; it was grating at times. There was also Lieutenant Abernathy, who commanded a battery of artillery which had been attached to the squadron. He didn’t know the man well, but the mere fact that he’d managed keep up with the cavalry over sixty miles of dirt roads proved that he was no slouch.
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