The Collected Stories

by Earl

  “But surely all hope isn’t lost for us?”

  “No. If the tide of public opinion sweeps high enough, the Unidum will be forced to cease hostilities and arbitrate. And any sort of arbitration is a victory for the Brotherhood. Indications are that already the Unidum—or more properly, war-dictator Molier—is at odds with public sentiment. His authority is near a break. That’s why he’s pressing us so ferociously; if he can defeat our forces before the break, he will be doubly powerful and will probably oust Executive Ashley and become sole dictator.”

  The radio-phone buzzed at his side and Williams picked up the receiver.

  l He listened, exchanged a few words, and then turned a grave face to Terry. “The Unidum has completed its embargo on the Pacific! We are cut off from Asiatic ammunition and war-supplies!”

  “But our own hyp-marine fleet—”

  “Can do nothing,” finished Williams. “The Unidum has concentrated almost its entire hyp-marine forces in the Pacific. They far outnumber ours.”

  “The Federation of Asia will declare war!”

  “No, Terry. Molier has bought them off!”

  * * *

  In the largest chamber of the underground stronghold near San Francisco there was much turmoil and whispering. It was a night five weeks after the poisoning of the brains and all the highest officers of the Brotherhood were assembled for emergency council. There was a general note of despair rampant in the atmosphere. The Unidum had relentlessly driven the rebel forces inward from the north, south, and east. Barely five hundred miles in each of those directions were the large fleets of the Unidum, at; bay with the rebel fleets which had not; been reinforced from Asiatic channels for a week. All general merchandise air traffic had been halted in that region; supplies of all kinds, especially fuel for the war-craft, were increasingly hard to obtain for the revolutionists.

  Throughout Unitaria feeling ran high against the Unidum and a growing mass of people were demanding that the warfare stop and the government accede to the original demands of the Brotherhood. But Molier had refused to listen and had fortified the Capitol with anti-aircraft guns and warcraft. This step bid fair to disrupt Unitaria, for Europe was prepared to secede at a moment’s notice. Molier, maddened at the sudden bursting of his ambitions, cared nothing of what happened. His one thought was to crush the rebellion in America and take it over under his control. His group of co-plotters in the Unidum, Scientists who fervently wished they had never listened to him but who were too deeply involved to back-out, held control of authority and issued the orders which daily drove the rebels backward. Yet the responses to military commands were not as prompt as they should have been; even the war-plane crews, long trained to obey orders without question, were sulky. For two days there had been no move on either side. Everything hung by a hair. . . .

  General Bromberg, a broken and haggard man, walked up and down the dais, haranguing the nearby officers fitfully. That he felt all was lost was evident in his face. Agarth was near him, apathetic in dismay. Williams touched his arm. Agarth gave him a wan smile in greeting.

  “Blasted hopes are all we have left, Williams,” he said.

  “There are some of us who still have the spirit to fight,” said Williams with a tone of slight reproach.

  Agarth replied wearily. “Fight? Fight for what? Victory now would be bitter irony. It is too late; it should have come sooner. Europe is ready to secede and is arming to fight the Unidum. Molier has done irrevocable damage. He has embittered the very name Unidum to the people.”

  “But if Molier and his cohorts were out of the way, could not the Unidum regain its former prestige?”

  “Who knows?” returned Agarth blankly. “Personally, I think this thing has gone out of our hands. The entire stability of Unitaria has been undermined. There is rioting every day in big cities. The worst of it is, there is no unified action. The Brotherhood’s proclamations and Molier’s propaganda have become confounded in the mass mind till they don’t know which is what.”

  “But a once-again integral and uncorrupt Unidum—would that not cure all evils?”

  “Certainly, man,” replied Agarth a bit sharply. “But here are we, doomed to certain defeat. And with us dies the leadership that could have saved Unitaria from Molier and tyranny. With the Brotherhood destroyed, Molier will do one of two things: despotize Unitaria or plunge Europe and America into a war that will be ten times worse than this one we have gone through.”

  Williams mused for a moment. “Molier—tyranny. No Molier—no tyranny.”

  “What’s that you say?” queried Agarth. Williams eyed him a moment. “Molier is human. If he were assassinated, then—”

  “Are you mad? The Capitol has been fortified; Molier has a bodyguard’—has had one since the beginning of the revolution. You would have to be a magician to kill him.”

  “Then I’ll be one!” cried Williams, eyes glinting strangely. “Agarth, I want your authority and permission to leave base here. Give me ten fast ships and twenty men, and full tanks of fuel.”

  Agarth stared speechlessly. It was at the tip of his tongue to ask: “Are you deserting?” but he thought better of it. Williams was not the kind of man to think of his own safety. He thought too of referring the decision to Bromberg, but one look at that distracted, nervous man decided him otherwise. After all, what difference would it make? The ten ships and twenty men could not stay the end, absent or present.

  Agarth nodded. “Go if you will.” Williams turned to go, hesitated, and held out his hand to Agarth.

  “We met under strange circumstances,” said Agarth. “Perhaps we part similarly.”

  “And perhaps not!” added Williams. “Of course, I am coming along,” said Terry who had stood by silently.

  Williams looked into his eyes. “Of course,” he agreed, “and M’bopo too. Just like before, Terry—us three. This might be our last great adventure together.”

  “How will we get past the Unidum lines?” asked Terry as they left the room with its hum of conversation.

  “Fly over widely spread at our ceiling.

  I doubt that they’ll pursue if they do happen to see or hear us. Might figure we’re deserters.”

  A swift plane took them eastward till they sighted the glare of sky-probing searchlights. Landing, they were in the midst of what remained of a formerly great fleet. It was Williams’ own fleet, the one he had commanded for four hectic weeks of maneuvering against the enemy.

  The word flew from tent to tent that the commander wanted to speak to his men on some mysterious matter. With an alacrity born of their respect for him, they hastily dressed, for most had been sleeping at that late hour, and assembled where one of the dimmed searchlights had been turned to light the ground.

  l Williams looked over the crowd with a feeling of pride. These were the men with whom he had held the south Nevada frontier against the Unidum for many weeks. They had no uniforms; they were dressed in civilian clothing, for there had been no time after the declaration of martial rebellion to design, buy and distribute uniforms. But on the breast of each was pinned a silver and blue enamel emblem which all members of the Brotherhood wore. And in the face of each, disheartened though many were, showed an eagerness and determination that would have caught the throat of even the most disinterested onlooker.

  “Men, I need some of you tonight,” shouted Williams so that all could hear, “on a mission of great danger. We are ringed in by the enemy and it is only a question of days, perhaps merely hours, before the final battles. Back at the base our leaders are planning the last desperate defensive. But perhaps something can be done. Daring may sometimes accomplish what might and main cannot stop. I want twenty men to come with me. . . . to New York!”

  A confused murmur arose among the ranks that quickly became cheers and shouts of commendation. Then a bellowing voice roared from the men.

  “Why can’t we all go along, commander, if you’re figuring on storming the Capitol?”

  “No,” shouted Wi
lliams as an approving babel followed. “No. First of all, ten ships have a chance to cross the enemy lines whereas the fleet would not without becoming engaged in a battle to the finish.

  Secondly, this is a strategic move; numbers will not help it along.”

  Men began crowding forward now, seeing that only a few could get picked, each asking to be one of the chosen. Williams looked helplessly at Terry; how to choose, under the circumstances?

  “Take only those who are not married,” suggested Terry.

  Williams immediately shouted for all those married to return to their tents, as they were automatically eliminated. With some murmuring and hesitation, these men left. Williams looked over the thirty-odd men searchingly. All were young and impatiently eager. The service they had seen, flying and gunning and occasional bombing of unguarded and temporary bases, had only whetted their appetites for adventure and danger. Williams reflected that if he were to lead them across the Pacific, they would storm Asia without a thought of backing down. And yet their blood was not all fire and steam; they had joined the Brotherhood in sincere adherence to its aims and principles. The motto “Liberty in Life and Death” meant as much to them as the thrill of fighting for a cause.

  Not to waste any time, Williams personally picked out his twenty. In another half-hour, eleven ships, twin-motored and all with full tanks, arose with a roar of helicopter screws. Under radio-phone command from Williams’ ship, they separated widely and bored swiftly eastward, climbing steadily.

  In their own plane, Terry was in the pilot seat while Williams sat before the radio instruments. M’bopo, as imperturbable as ever, sat near his master against the wall.

  “We won’t have to worry much about searchlights,” said Williams as the enemy lines drew near, “because it’s slightly cloudy up here, enough to conceal us. But a mechanical ear and high-flying scout-sentries could detect us.”

  This was spoken to Terry; into the mouthpiece he barked: “Full speed over the lines at ceiling. If pursued, maneuver to escape. Report immediately if forced to give battle.”

  Flying over land invisible in the gloom of night, Williams saw coming up the horizon the blue-white glare of searchlights whose beams could probe into the stratosphere itself. Where the beams were absent in long stretches to north and south, he knew that the uncanny “mechanical ears” were there, which could detect under excellent conditions a single ship miles above. At their terrific speed, the enemy line swung directly below them.

  Suddenly an aimless beam swung purposefully in their direction, probed fitfully through wisps of cloud-mist, and then gave it up.

  “One of those damned ears heard us, all right,” muttered Williams. “They tried to lime-light us. Wonder if they’ll do anything?”

  After five minutes had passed, he knew that they would not. No swift little scout had zoomed up from the ground, guided by radio directions from the operators of the mechanical ears, to hang on their tail like an unshakeable bulldog, spotting them to back-line armed chasers. Now it was too late; even the uncanny mechanical ears could no longer detect them as the distance between ran into dozens of miles.

  A confused babel came from the radiophone. Williams put his fingers to the selector dial and tuned in each of his men separately. They all reported safety and no pursuit.

  Williams snapped the multiple-wave switch, contacting all his men at once.

  “We’re all through and no pursuit. Draw together now on the line between Base Number One and New York. Cabin light on at full. Altitude three miles.”

  He snapped off the radio and raised his voice so that Terry could hear above the engines’ drone. “Get on the line between Base One and New York, Terry, where we’ll group with the other ships. Altitude three miles.” He switched on the cabin lights full and bright. At either wing tip and at the tail of the ovoid cabin, bright crimson lights flashed on. In fifteen minutes, blurs of light triangulated with red points appeared in all directions. At Williams’ orders, the approaching ships took up a flying V and stepladder formation, with his ship at the apex.

  The ten ships which Williams had picked to accompany him on his mysterious mission were Sansruns, second in speed only to scouts, equipped with two machine-gun nests in the open-air on either side of the top of the cabin where the wings joined to the body. Hung in a rack below the cabin, and worked by levers inside, were six small drop-bombs. Such ships were used for destroying bases of the enemy or blowing up ammunition dumps, being fast enough to escape all but armed scouts, and armed enough to have a good chance against the better-armed combat ships. Their tank capacity was very great in that they often had to forage long distances. In the revolution, that type of ship had been little used—most of the battles had been engagements between combat ships—and consequently were in excellent condition.

  At their height, which was above the commercial lanes, no other ships were sighted as hour after hour they pierced the night. In the monotony of the trip, not one man was along but who wondered to what they were going. That it was to be some amazing feat of daring, they all sensed, heading into the very heart of danger. Williams himself, the only man who had such knowledge, wondered how it would turn out.

  CHAPTER XVI

  The sunpower Weapon

  l The miniature fleet approached New York from the south, having veered from its direct course two hours before. Yet it did not turn in the great metropolis’ direction, but skimmed the clouds east of it. As the first faint xanthic glows of dawn appeared, Williams contacted his men on the general wave and rapidly ran through a series of twice-repeated commands. Then he spoke to Terry and M’bopo.

  Looking at the beauty of dawn suffusing the eastern sky, heralding the coming of a late autumn sun, Williams noticed, a half-quadrant away, a spreading fan of shimmering rays of light centered from a spot on the wide bed of ocean. He looked at it wonderingly, thinking it to be an aurora borealis till it occurred to him that it was south of the sun.

  “What is that mysterious light?” he asked of Terry.

  “I’ve been noticing that,” replied the young chemist. “It can only be the sunpower experimental station which they must have moved westward since we last saw it from the stratosphere ship that time we crossed the Atlantic. You see, the giant raft it’s set up on is powered to move just like any ship. I have heard the sunpower they produce there is used somehow to propel it; steam-power and water-screw, I suppose.”

  “But—that light! From the distance and its visibility, I would say that it’s billions of candle-power.”

  “Billions of heat calories, too!” supplied Terry. “I think I know the reason for it. They produce an enormous amount of sunpower, and having no use for it at present since they are concerned merely with improving the capacity till it will be commercially practicable, most of it is radiated away into the sky in the form of light and heat. Each night, I suppose, they cast off the excess energy of the day in that way.”

  Williams’ eyes had widened thoughtfully. A train of thought started in his mind that was abruptly terminated at Terry’s words:

  “Here we go—down!”

  The eleven planes, almost as one (for the pilots had been forewarned), hummed downward from the misty heights, like phantoms in the ghostly light of grey dawn. An immense fingered structure loomed up toward them, only partially illuminated as night lights were gradually turned off. Before their altitude lessened by half, great New York was visible as a crown of light, beside it to the east the lime-whiteness of the Unidum Capitol.

  Then it was all cut off by the contracting horizon as they plunged lower.

  “We’re discovered already,” said Terry, pointing to where a wheeling scout ship with the Unidum emblem on its wings swung in a great circle and sped away toward New York. “They could recognize our ships immediately by their foreign design as part of the rebel forces.”

  “No matter,” said Williams quietly. “Once landed down there, we’re safe for the time being.”

  Onto the deserted landing roof of
the Long Island Tide-station, the tiny fleet landed. Williams told his men through the radio-phone to stay with their ships till further orders. Then he motioned to Terry and M’bopo to follow him.

  At the door which led to the corridors below, Joe Manners stood waiting, a mixture of consternation and bewilderment on his face. Greetings were terse.

  “I got your call during the night,” said Manners. “But for the life of me, I can’t figure out—”

  “We’re here for a little grimmer purpose than that last time,” vouchsafed Williams. “Before, it was just our lives we were concerned with; now much more is involved.”

  “But you’re not safe here!” cried Manners nervously. “This whole region is patrolled by Unidum scout ships. They’ll see your ships here and attack—”

  “Attack? They’ll think twice before they try it. How can they attack ships on a roof? And they won’t dare to try any bombing.”

  “No, they won’t,” agreed Manners, calming down. “I see the simpleness and yet effectiveness of that part of your plan. Strange that the Unidum, so concerned in protecting the Capitol, should leave the tide-station here open to attack.”

  “That’s just it,” said Williams. “They had no suspicion that this might happen. It’s always the obvious that escapes notice. I banked on that. If there had been armed opposition awaiting us as we descended—well, I was prepared to sell my life dearly.” He shrugged. “What matter whether back at Base One waiting for a sure defeat, or here taking a long chance at—”

  “At what?” prompted Manners. Both he and Terry showed their curiosity.