“To hell with that!” I blurted out in English. “Kria!” I ran to her room and took hold of her. In fact, I took her into my arms and hugged her. “Kria!” I exclaimed. “You know I love you. Why do you run from me? Come on! There is still time to go. I can't leave you here to die!"
Again there was that lost, far away look in her eyes and the longing in her to be able to cry. She suddenly gave in and her arms went around me, desperately. “Oh my love, I don't matter! It is you whomust save yourself!” she gasped.
“Are you all crazy!” I exclaimed. “Come on! You're my wife and you're going with me!” I pulled her and she came, as though struggling against her own will, wanting to and wanting not to.
Sanal and Drganu blocked my path with a neutralizer of the paralysis weapon, making it ineffective. However, my two hundred pounds were not neutralized. I plunged through them. They were resilient, but they couldn't stand against me. I found their teletransporter and fought them while I dialed another frequency-the one that would put me at the Research Laboratory. Kria and I stumbled through.
“Raymond! Raymond!” she complained. “This was not meant! You don't know what you are doing!"
“The hell I don't!” I yelled, and we raced for a Vanyan disc outside the lab.
Then I stopped, suddenly, to ask her, “Tell me once and for all, Kria-is there a master switch, a master control of some kind which could make Earth's copy of Vanyan gear ineffective? You people wanted me to find out if Earth was going to attack. Now you know they are. Are your people going to sit here and die?"
“Raymond, the attack strikes too swiftly, and the speed of light—” She shook her head, refusing even then to reveal secrets to me. “It is too late but not for you. You were brought here—"
“Come on!” I interrupted her. “I guess it's my way, after all."
Earth's representatives had left. There were only a few Vanyan discs available, totally unguarded. I pulled Kria into one and made her guide me at the controls...
* * *
CHAPTER XII
RACING Earthward into the teeth of the armada, I sent out a call to the attackers, identifying myself so as not to get blown out of space before I started. In our three-dimensional scope we could see the approaching ships. Ahead of them, and near to us, was a cloud of ponderous projectiles already launched and coming fast. We began to maneuver out of the way.
“Flagship to Sanders!” came an officer's voice. “If that's you, keep clear and hold course for Earth at half speed. We will pick you up. You are under arrest on suspicion of treason."
“Treason!” I yelped into the mike. “Somebody is—"
“You were a counter-spy for the Vanyans. You may blame yourself for triggering this attack."
“But I had nothing to do with it!"
“Ha! You made a brazen rendezvous with a Vanyan ship right in Washington-how stupid can you get! But there's no time now for argument. Follow instructions!"
“Damn Motter and his spy!” I muttered, as I turned off the transmitter switch. That I had planned no rendezvous with the Vanyans I knew, but it would be hard to prove otherwise.
Kria came into my arms. She did not want to talk. She merely wanted to be held close to me. We remained that way for some time, watching the fleet approach Kria's adopted world. Watching the projectiles approach, carrying their atomic warheads.
“Kria!” I exclaimed. “Now is the best time to analyze you and your emotions. Under normal circumstances, this would be monstrous of me-but I've got to know about you! What are you thinking? What are you feeling?” I shook her gently. “Tell me-now!"
We both looked at the three-dimensional picture of Mars and saw filtered flashes of light trace a pattern across that area where the Vanyan “city” was located. There were flashes farther removed, also, where power plants were located. Then the surface darkened slowly under the shadows of man made, mushrooming clouds. And all of a sudden we saw bright, jagged lines appear across the planet's surface as huge earthquakes were summoned into being and great gashes were cut into the staggering little world.
“The disintegrators!” I exclaimed. “For the love of God! The bombs were enough!"
Kria shuddered, tried to hide her face. “You are children, giant children,” she said, “flailing about in darkness!"
I tried to lift up her chin, and when she looked into my eyes and saw me crying, it was too much. She ran from me and threw herself onto an acceleration couch. She actually suffered because she could not cry. I left her alone.
I was too overcome, myself, to give her comfort. I stood there looking at the destruction and I yelled at the three-dimensional color image of it. I can't repeat what I said because most of it would seem like gibberish. But I am not ashamed to say that I bawled, openly and uncontrollably.
* * * *
It was about a day later that the Flagship overtook us and I was commanded to draw along side the other much larger disc. As the capturing crew secured our airlocks for boarding, Kria rushed to me, alarmed.
“What is the meaning of ‘treason?'” she asked me, having heard the commanding officer use the word over the receiver.
When I explained it to her, she asked, “But how can they accuse you of that? You are not guilty!"
“Thanks, sweet. But can I prove it!"
Her eyes were wide with concern, and there again I saw her looking at me from afar off, as though out of other worlds of her own. The old mystery, which would never be solved. I had given it up.
“What-is the penalty-for treason?” she asked. I shrugged, saying nothing. “You mean-they will kill you?"
“If I can't prove myself innocent. But take it easy—"
She clenched her fists and stamped her foot in anger. “Kill! Kill! Kill!” she cried. “Is that all your barbaric race can think of!"
“Honey,” I said, trying to calm her. “Now there's no need to—"
“They shan't kill you! You cannot die!"
“Why?” For reasons which I could not have explained to myself, I wanted a specific answer to that question. There was more than personal emotion behind her insistent statement.
“Because-because-there is a reason! I can't tell you!"
Before I could argue about that, the inner door of our airlock opened, and armed M.P.s attached to the U. S. Navy Airforce stepped into the control room. They were armed with business-like, understandable, old-fashioned automatics.
“Stop!” cried Kria, holding up her hand. “This man is innocent! You will not take him prisoner!” The M.P.s struggled to overcome their surprise at finding one Vanyan alive. Also, they must have been surprised at her English. But then their leader grinned.
“Okay, beautiful,” he said. “Keep out of trouble. You're under arrest, too."
Kria did not budge. She stood there facing them, and all of a sudden I saw the M.P.s change their expressions. Their mouths dropped agape and in their eyes was both wonderment and fear. They became rigid and their guns dropped from their fingers.
I shouted at her, asking her what she was trying to do, knowing all the while that now she was really showing her cards. With sheer mental power she seemed to be capable of paralyzing them.
It was in that moment that a new detachment of guards entered the room and shot her down. I screamed, throwing myself at them, but they pumped bullets into her and she slumped to the floor. I punched hard, but something descended on my skull and I went out cold...
* * * *
I have not seen Kria since then, but I am told I may see her after writing this story. I am told she still lives, and I thank God.
You all know what happened from that point onward. The Vanyans not only allowed us to destroy them rather than lift a finger to harm us. They made sure that we would not harm ourselves, because they knew in that last terrible hour that we were not yet ready for interplanetary civilization.
Even in their posthumous revenge, however, they were benevolent. They had set up the hidden master switch on one of the Martian moons, i
t is presumed. Those robot controls were set to go off after the last Earthman had arrived safely home. Mind you, they could have destroyed us at any time. They could have taken revenge while the fleet was still out in space. But they did not.
After we were all on the ground, the propelling apparatus on the discs quietly dissolved, as did all our supplies of the Vanyan element that made such ships possible, and their weapons. Those were incapacitated also, never to be used again. The Vanyan answer, gentlemen. After you killed them, their voice spoke out of the tomb of space and said, in effect, “You are not ready!"
And I agree. I shout to their noble spirits and proclaim them godlings-a golden, benevolent benefactor whom we have slain.
My fate matters little. It is yours with which we should be most concerned!
* * *
CHAPTER XIII
THEY told Ray Sanders he would not be able to see his wife until after the court-martial, but they assured him she was rallying slowly and had a good chance to live through her injuries. This pacified him to some extent, and it also motivated his desire to prove his innocence.
They let him testify, but as he continued referring the court to his story, which had been published all over the world, there was nothing new that he could offer in his defense. In regard to the Vanyan rendezvous in front of the Lincoln Memorial, it was only his word against theirs.
The Press was worried, but the Administration was not. Public opinion was largely on Sanders’ side. Washington was being besieged with messages from all over the world. Some countries even threatened diplomatic reprisals if Ray Sanders received the death penalty.
But then the prosecution took over and X-rays of Kria's bullet-ridden body were presented as proof that the Vanyans were inhuman. They were a synthetic race. In a word-androids...
Swiftly, the judgment followed.
“Therefore, Raymond Sanders, it is the decision of this court-martial that you have been found guilty of treasonable negotiation with an inhuman enemy who stood ready to conquer and perhaps destroy not only your own native country-but this entire world."
The Press was released with the news, and Congress and the President watched the reactions.
* * * *
The headlines fulfilled their fondest expectations: SANDERS WIFE INHUMAN!-SANDERS CONVICTED!-FEDERAL EVIDENCE BREAKS SANDERS-VANYANS PROVED MONSTERS!-X-RAYS PROVE KRIA FAKE HUMAN-U.S. SWINGS AXE!
The sympathetic world turned antagonistic overnight. The Government gained new prestige. They had been right, after all! Congress convened briefly, and the President signed the death penalty.
Then he authorized Sanders to see Kria...
* * * *
The Press was excluded from that meeting. Sanders, a visibly broken man, went alone into her hospital room. He was with his Vanyan “wife” a full hour before he was called out by his custodians.
He came out a different man. He was straight and tall again, and there was a new light of defiance and triumph and even joy in his eyes.
“I want to talk to the Press!” he exclaimed.
“Too late for that now, Sanders,” the police officers told him.
“But I've got to talk to the Press!"
“Come on!” They pulled him along with them.
“The President!” he yelled. “At least let me talk to the President!” In his jail cell he raved and swore and even appealed to fellow prisoners for aid, but his totally incredible story branded him as an insane man. There was a sympathetic shaking of heads.
“The poor guy. He's off his rockers!"
“I guess I'd be, too. He gets shot tomorrow morning."
* * * *
The next morning, Sanders even argued with the officer in charge of the firing squad. “You don't know what you're doing!” he pleaded. “Give me one more hour! This is vital. I demand to speak to the President!"
The officer tried to be patient, but finally he lost his temper and called the guards. They took Sanders and stood him against the wall.
“No! I don't want a blindfold!” he told them. “I want to watch the sky!"
He stood there looking up into the brightening sky, and several times he called his wife's name.
"Ready...!” barked the officer to the firing squad.
“Kria!” yelled Sanders.
"Aim..."
That was as far as they got. A few guards testified later that they observed a gold-emblazoned disc in the sky. It paralyzed the firing squad and the officer in charge. It lowered itself swiftly into the prison yard and Sanders ran to it. It took off with him, and he was never seen again...
* * *
CHAPTER XIV
IT WAS then that the President of the United States decided he would have to have a talk with Kria. He, too, went into her room alone, while his bodyguards waited outside.
She lay there like any other rapidly convalescing patient, but she was far more beautiful than the normal run of women. Synthetic or not, she was an object of the Chief Executive's pity-belatedly.
“I want you to tell me what happened,” he said to her. “Who rescued your husband? I thought we destroyed your race."
“You did,” she replied, sadly. “But my race did not matter."
“Then-to whom did that mystery saucer belong-the one that rescued Ray Sanders?"
Kria smiled wanly. She indicated a chair. “Sit down, won't you? I think I can tell the story now."
* * * *
She talked for a long time. She described for the President a truly human race of immortals who faced the necessity of making contact with us, of finding a world within a solar system such as ours on which they could continue their existence in accordance with their basic philosophies, as explained by Ralsyan to Sanders when he was on Mars.
“But immortals come to treasure their lives, not so much for themselves as for the knowledge and wisdom they have acquired. They could not risk contacting you directly, so they created us-their android extensions-to contact you first."
“Do you mean to say-that all the while your race was renovating the planet, Mars, your human counterparts waited somewhere out in space to determine what our reaction would be?” asked the President.
Kria nodded. “That is well expressed,” she answered. “They are our counterparts. For each of us there is a human duplicate, in form and mind and personality, with whom we were in mental contact at all times. Through us they could sense everything we sensed here."
“Wait a minute! You mean somewhere, there is a human copy of you? One who knows as much about Sanders as you do-who perhaps loves him, actually-humanly?"
Again, Kria nodded. “Yes, she loves him, and she is with him now-for all time. It is she who rescued him. In fact, she ordered him brought to Mars just before the attack, in order to pick him up there, so as not to appear in her ship in Earthly skies and thus reveal her secret. But your attack was too sudden. Limited by the velocity of light, she could not get here in time from the mother ship. Ray Sanders, alone, of all Earthmen, will join the true Vanyan race in search of a new home and a new race of people who, perhaps, will deserve their guidance more than you."
The President shook his head. He fell silent. After all, he had made a historical blunder. The truth might even cause his impeachment.
“You-ah-say the true Vanyans preferred to keep this a secret. Why have you told me?"
“I had to tell someone. It's all past now. They are gone."
“Well, we might as well keep this secret, just between you and me. The world would suffer greatly to know it was guilty of a great crime, after all."
“I don't care what you do."
“We'll say that some fanatic rescued him in a ship that looked like a disc; that we shot it down over the ocean. It will be simple enough to bury this whole story."
“Do what you wish."
The President, greatly relieved, looked at her kindly. “Why so sad?” he asked. “You are immortal, human or not. Think of the many years ahead, of you-the things you'll see transpire here
on Earth. Why, you might even land a movie contract, with your looks—"
Kria shook her head. “You don't understand,” she replied.
“What don't I understand?"
She looked into his eyes and said, “You see-I love him, too."
* * *
BEYOND THE DARKNESS
* * *
CHAPTER I
LYLWANI'S slender, pink hands clutched Nad's arm.
“Do we have to look?” she said rather than asked.
Nad's bushy, blond brows only lowered over his gray eyes and his mouth tightened into a scowl of hate and defiance as he watched the execution.
“Those are orders,” he said. “Orders! Always orders! Disobey or even question an order and you get what he's going to get!"
Nad's red-headed younger brother, Ron, nervously shifted the almost negligible weight of his frail body from his club foot to his good one and drew in closer to Nad.
“Be careful!” he hissed. “You'll be overheard!"
His round blue eyes surveyed the faces of the hundred or so Passengers gathered there, and his female companion, holding his hand, felt in it the reflection of his terror. Yldra, she of the long blue hair and the pale white skin, had lost her customary smile, and her great, dark eyes glistened on the verge of tears.
“Poor Gradon!” she said to Ron. “He was so good and kind. Now he goes to the Abyss...!"
A frightened murmur arose from the crowd of Passengers as the Door slid soundlessly aside, exposing them all momentarily to the execution chamber that would soon open into the Abyss. Sargon M-13-NT, Navigator, shoved old Gradon unceremoniously into the large chamber, and the Door closed upon him forever.
Through its crystal clear substance they could see Gradon plainly. He turned his back on the dark destruction that approached him and faced all his old friends, a weary smile on his kindly face. As Sargon reached for the control valve, Gradon waved goodbye not only to those present but to those other thousands of Passengers who had been ordered to witness his execution in the visiplates.
Then the valve turned, and the Passengers hid their faces.
Martian Honeymoon and Beyond the Darkness Page 7