The Onslaught from Rigel

by Fletcher Pratt

  CHAPTER III

  Rebellion

  They whirled away to the east side of the city and up Second Avenue likea triumphal cortege, blissfully disregarding the dead traffic lights,though now and then they had to dodge the ruins of some truck or taxithat had come out second best from an argument with an elevated pillarwhere the driver's hand had been frozen at the wheel. At Forty-ninthStreet Ben's car, in the lead, swung in to the curb and pulled up.

  "What is it?" ... "Is this the place?" ... "Anything wrong?"

  An illuminating voice floated up. "Electric store, get all theflashlights and batteries you can. We're going to need them."

  A few moments later they were at the great institution, strangely darkand silent now after all its years of ministering to the sick, with aline of rust showing redly on the tall iron fence that surrounded thegrounds. They trooped into the reception room, flickering their lightshere and there like fireflies. Ben mounted a chair.

  "Just a minute, folks," he began. "I want to say something.... What wehave to do here is build civilization up all over again. Undoubtedlythere are more people alive--if not in New York, then in other places.We have two jobs--to get in touch with them and to find out what we cando. Mr. Beeville is going to find out about the second one for us, butwe can do a lot without waiting for him.

  "In the first place, there's that funny-looking bird that we all saw andthat chased Roberts. There may be others like it and a lot of new queerforms of animal life around that would be dangerous to us. Therefore, Ithink it's in line to get some weapons. Miss Lami, you and Mr. Tholfsenare delegated to dig up a hardware store and find guns andcartridges.... Now for the rest, I'm open to suggestions."

  Everybody spoke at once. "Wait a minute," said Ben. "Let's take thingsin order. What was your idea, Mr. Stevens?"

  "Organize regular search parties."

  "And a good idea, too. We don't even need to wait for daylight.Everybody who can drive, get a car and trot along."

  "X-ray machines are going to be awfully useful in my work," offeredBeeville. "I wonder if there isn't some way of getting enough current torun one."

  "As far as I remember, this building supplies its own current. Murray,you and Massey trot down and get a fire up under one of the boilers.Anything else?"

  "Yes," came from Dangerfield, the editor. "It seems to me that the firstthing anyone else in the world would try to do if he found himself madeinto a tin doll like this is get hold of a radio. How about opening up abroadcasting station?"

  "I don't know whether you can get enough power, but you can try. Go toit. Do you know anything about radio?"

  "A little."

  "All right. Pick whoever you want for an assistant and try it out. Anymore ideas?"

  "What day is it?" asked Ola Mae Roberts.

  Nobody had thought of it, and it suddenly dawned on the assemblage thatthe last thing they remembered was when the snow on the roof-topsbespoke a chilly February, while now all the trees were in leaf and theair was redolent of spring.

  "Why--I don't know," said Ben. "Anybody here got any ideas on how tofind out?"

  "It would take an experienced astronomer and some calculation todetermine with accuracy," said Beeville. "We'd better set an arbitrarydate."

  "O. K. Then it's May 1, 1947. That's two years ahead of time, but itwill take that long to find out what it really is."

  The assumption that sleep would be unnecessary proved correct. All nightlong, cars roared up to the door and away again on their quests. Thenumber of people found was small--the cream had apparently been gatheredthat morning. O'Hara brought in a metallic scrubwoman from one of thedowntown buildings, the tines that represented her teeth showing stainsof rust where she had incautiously drunk water; Stevens turned up with aslow-voiced young man who proved to be Georgios Pappagourdas, theattache of the Greek consulate whose name had been in the papers inconnection with a sensational divorce case; and Mrs. Roberts came inwith two men, one of them J. Sterling Vanderschoof, president of thesteamship lines which bore his name.

  At dawn Dangerfield came in. He had set up a powerful receiving set bymeans of storage batteries but could find no messages on the air, andcould find no source of power sufficient for him to broadcast.

  The morning, therefore, saw another and somewhat less optimisticconference. As it was breaking up Ben said, "You Tholfsen, take Stevens,Vanderschoof and Lee and get a truck, will you? You'll find one abouthalf a block down the street. Go up to one of the coal pits and get somefuel for our boilers here. We haven't too large a supply."

  There was a clanking of feet as they left and Ben turned into thelaboratory where Beeville was working, with the scrubwoman as a subject.

  "Something interesting here," said the naturalist, looking up as heentered. "The outer surface of this metal appears to be rust-proof, butwhen you get water on the inside, things seem to go. It acts like aspecially annealed compound of some kind. And look--" He seized one ofthe arms of his subject, who gazed at him with mildly unresisting eyes,and yanked at the outer layer of metal bands that composed it. The bandstretched like one of rubber, and she gave a slight squeal as it snappedback into position. "I don't know of any metal that has thatflexibility. Do you? Why--"

  * * * * *

  The door swung open and they turned to see Murray and Tholfsen.

  "Beg pardon for interrupting the sacred panjandrum," said the former,"but Stevens and Vanderschoof are indulging in a sulk. They don't wantto play with us."

  "Oh, hell," remarked Ben cheerfully and started for the door, the othertwo following him.

  He found the recalcitrants soon enough. The Wall Street man was seatedacross a doctor's desk from Vanderschoof and looked up calmly from aninterrupted conversation as Ben entered.

  "Thought I asked you two to go with the boys for some coal," said Ben,waving at them. "My mistake. I meant to."

  "You did. I'm not going."

  Ben's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

  "This is the United States of America, young man. I don't recognize thatI am under your orders or anyone else's. If you think you are going toget us to accept any such Mussolini dictatorship, you've got anotherguess coming. As I was saying--" he turned back to Vanderschoof withelaborate unconcern, and Murray took a step toward him, bristlingangrily.

  "Leave me alone, boys, I can handle this," said Ben, waving the othertwo back. "Mr. Stevens." The broker looked up with insolent politeness."This is not the United States, but the colony of New York. Conditionshave changed and the sooner you recognize that the better for all of us.We are trying to rebuild civilization from the ruins; if you don't sharein the work, you shall not share in the benefits."

  "And what are you going to do about it?"

  "Put you out."

  There was a quick flash, and Ben was staring into the business end of aLuger automatic, gripped tightly in the broker's hand. "Oh, no youwon't. You forget that you made this anarchy yourself when you refusedto have a president. Now get out of here, quick, and let me talk with myfriend."

  For a moment the air was heavy with tension. Then Vanderschoof smiled--asuperior smile. Stevens' eyes blinked, and in that blink Ben charged,and as he moved, Murray and Tholfsen followed. There was a report like aclap of thunder in the narrow room, a tremendous ringing clang as thebullet struck the metal plate of Ben's shoulder and caromed to theceiling, whirling him around against the desk and to the floor by theforce of the impact. Murray leaped across his prostrate body, strikingat the gun and knocking it down just in time to send the second shotwild; Tholfsen stumbled and fell across Ben.

  Ben was up first, diving for Murray and Stevens, now locked in closegrapple, but the chess-player's action was more effective. From hisprone position he reached up, grabbed Stevens' legs and pulled them fromunder him, bringing him down with a crash, just as Ben's added weightmade the struggle hopelessly one-sided. In a moment more the dictator ofthe New York colony was sitting on his subject's chest while Murray heldhis arms. Vanderschoof, wit
h the instinctive terror of the man offinance for physical violence, sat cowering in his chair.

  "Get--some wire," gasped Ben. "Don't think--cloth will hold him."

  Tholfsen released his hold on the legs and climbed to his feet. "Watchthe other one, Murray," said Ben, his quick eye detecting a movementtoward the gun on Vanderschoof's part.

  "Now you, listen," he addressed the man beneath him. "We could tie youup and lay you away to pickle until you died for the lack of whateveryou need, or we could turn you over to Beeville to cut up as a specimen,and by God," glaring with a kind of suppressed fury, "I wouldn'thesitate to do it! You're jeopardizing the safety of the wholecommunity."

  The grim face beneath him showed neither fear nor contrition. Hehesitated a moment.

  "If I let you go and give you a car and a couple of batteries, will youpromise to clear out and never come back?"

  Stevens laughed shortly. "Do you think you can bluff me? No."

  "All right, Tholfsen, get his feet first," said Ben, as the chess-playerreappeared with a length of light-cord he had wrenched from somewhere.The feet kicked energetically, but the task was accomplished and thearms secured likewise. "You watch him," said Ben, "while I get a cararound."

  "What are you going to do?" asked Vanderschoof, speaking for the firsttime since the scuffle.

  "Throw him in the river!" declared Ben, with ruthless emphasis. "Let himget out of that." Stevens took this statement with a calm smile thatshowed not the slightest trace of strain.

  "But you can't do that," protested the steamship man. "It's--it'sinhuman."

  "Bring him outside boys," said Ben, without deigning to reply to thisprotest, and clanged out to the car.

  They lifted the helpless man into the back seat, and with a man oneither side of him, started for Queensboro Bridge. The journey wasaccomplished in a dead silence.

  * * * * *

  Halfway down the span, Ben brought the taxi round with a flourish andclimbed out, the other two lifting Stevens between them. Murray lookedtoward his friend, half expecting him to relent at the last moment, buthe motioned them wordlessly on, and they set down their burden at therail.

  "Over with him!" said Ben remorselessly. They bent....

  "I give up," said Stevens in a strangely husky voice. Murray andTholfsen paused.

  "Did you hear what I said?" said Ben. "Over with him!"

  They heaved. "Stop!" screamed the broker. "For God's sake, I'll give up.I'll go. Oh-h-h!" The last was a scream, as Ben laid a detaining hand onMurray's arm.

  "Let him down, boys," he said quietly. "Now listen, Stevens. I don'twant to be hard on you--but we've got to have unanimity. You're done.Take a car and clear out. If I let you go now, will you promise to stayaway?"

  "Yes," said the Wall Street man. "Anything, only for God's sake don't dothat!"

  "All right," said Ben.

  As they were loading the banker in the car for the return trip a thoughtstruck Murray. "By the way, Ben," he remarked, "didn't he nick you withthat gun?" "That's right," said Ben, "he did." And gazed down at thelong bright scratch in the heavy metal that covered his shoulder joint.It was uninjured.