Don Pendleton's Science Fiction Collection, 3 Books Box Set, (The Guns of Terra 10; The Godmakers; The Olympians)

by Don Pendleton

  She raised her eyes to a fast inspection of the grim faces about her. What did they know, these poor grounded earthlings, about intrigue in outer space? If Zach had been a babe down in the woods, then all these were doubly-babes in the black reaches of space. She wished Zach could have come with them. Oh Zach, Zach, where are you? Come and find us, my darling, and lead us from this blackness!

  Zach Whaleman was having disturbing problems of his own. The autosentinel had folded all its legs except the two immediately occupying Zach’s attention. He stood like a Samson, straining valiantly at the two columns of the temple—except that Zach was trying to keep the temple up, not bring it down, and he was fighting a losing battle against pneumatic superiority.

  Just as he was about to concede the fight, leap clear, and take his chances with the zing-guns, an amplified voice floated down to him from above. “You’re getting to be a full time job, Gunner,” it said.

  “Identity!” Whaleman grunted from beneath the Boob.

  The autosentiners legs were straightening. The voice from the sky advised Whaleman, “Relax, Gunner, I’m overriding his logic now. Let go and step clear.”

  Another second and Whaleman would have been forced to do so in any event. His arms were leaden, his chest ached, head was pounding. He stepped warily into the open on trembly legs, fighting for breath, and watched the autosentinel scuttle off toward the buildings.

  A small, two-man gravcar settled gently to the turf, the hatch popped open, and the patrolman who had lifted him out of the commune raised head and shoulders into view. Whaleman glared at him, wondering if he could succeed in a break-and- run. He quickly dismissed the idea. He was too exhausted to breathe. Running was utterly out of the question.

  The patrolman said, “Well, Gunner? Will you join me?”

  Whaleman had to admit defeat. He moved wearily to the scout car and leaned against the fuselage, trying to get his breathing under controL “Get in,” the patrolman demanded.

  “Sec,” the Gunner replied. “Get breath.”

  “Breath to run with?”

  Whaleman tiredly shook his head. “Breath to get in with,” he gasped.

  The man chuckled.

  Whaleman threw him a murderous look and said, “How override Boob?”

  “He’s one of my babies,” the other replied. “He used to be on your side, Gunner. What happened? The Reevers sell you a bill of goods?”

  “Unskronk,” Whaleman wheezed. “Unskronk also Zach’s reaction to zing-gun. Last time, no reaction. This time, boobed.”

  “Naw, you didn’t get a full dose,” the man said conversationally. “You better be glad you didn’t, Gunner. You’d be flopping all over this field.”

  “Unskronk.”

  The man chuckled again. “They popped a half-wave microdot into your brain last night, up at the MedCen. I recommended a full-wave, but they wouldn’t go for it.”

  “Unskronk,” Whaleman said.

  “I guess you never will. I don’t skronk you, either, spacer. Everything in the universe going for you, and you toss it all. For what? For a piece of uninhibited Reever ass?”

  Whaleman’s breathing system, among other things, was clearing. He understood the significance of the patrolman’s words and, even more, of his disrespectful tone of voice. The die was cast for Zach Whaleman. There was no turning back now, no place to return to, and nothing of value in his destiny that he could not make with his own hands and mind.

  The patrolman was grinning down at a defeated man, a high one of the deepspace command, fallen from the stars to wrestle in the dust of Terra with his master—machine. “Come on, Whaler/Mannson, let’s go,” he commanded.

  Whaleman understood the identity-change, also. He lifted his eyes to the patrolman and said, quietly, “Reevers in commune, all blasted, all... women, children, like same. You?”

  The patrolman seemed to be enjoying his newfound superiority over a defense commander. “We promised them a reward, didn’t we?” he said.

  Suddenly Whaleman was seeing the man through a red film of rage. He cried, “Is Board Island know this?”

  “Look, buddy, I get my orders straight from the Chairman.” The patrolman’s hand came up over the edge of the hatch and it was holding a small weapon. “Come on, enough Smalltalk. They’re pretty anxious to see you up at Moonbase. It doesn’t matter to me if I take you back without a mind. You better climb in while you still got one.”

  Whaleman felt ready. His strength, boosted by a towering new rage, was flowing back and his breathing was steady. The patrolman moved back slightly to make room. Whaleman’s other hand shot up and clamped down on the weapon, twisting and pulling in the same motion. The patrolman clung grimly to the weapon and flailed at Whaleman’s face with his free hand. Slowly, surely, Whaleman’s superior size and weight prevailed and the man was dragged across the lip of the hatch and to the ground. A bone crunched and the weapon passed into Whaleman’s possession.

  The man groaned, “Look, you’re crazy, you’re—”

  Whaleman brought the blow arcing up from his heels. It exploded into the patrolman’s face with a soul-satisfying splattering of cartilage and tissue. Blood erupted onto Whaleman’s uniform as his victim toppled backwards into an unconscious heap. The deepspacer of Terra 10 and Moonbase felt a strong affinity with the long-extinct jungle apes who had pounded their chests in a victory cry over their enemies. He felt like doing it himself. Instead, he tucked the little Z-gun into his sleeve and climbed into the gravcar.

  Seconds later, Whaleman was hurtling straight up into thin atmosphere while running a routine checkout of the control features. Satisfied that the tiny car was capable of deepspace flight, he kicked in the supergrav reversers and lined up on Vega. He had heard enough at Board Island the previous day to have a fair idea of the new route to Terra 10. Was that only yesterday?

  Whaleman smiled grimly and punched in a code to the guidance computer. He had, after twenty-five years of life, only recently discovered the true delights of Mother Earth. As wonderful as all that could be, this was his true element, up here, in the great void. He might be a jungle ape down there. Up here, he was The Gunner—and he knew all the innermost secrets of the most terrible weapon in existence. Whaler/Mannson, eh? All right, he thought. That makes it clean and neat, with no guilt and perfidy as companions. The Reevers, in the name of man, were taking over Terra 10. The guns of Terra 10!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Babes in the Night

  Squadroneer Mark Bond-Durant was not at all happy with the way things had twisted. He paced over to Johns-Fielding's broad window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, and peered broodingly onto the artificial scenery of Board Island. “This is terrible,” he said. “A Gunner of Defense Command being hunted like wild animal. There is no justification for this, Director.”

  “Let’s leave that, ah, judgment to those best qualified to pass on it,” Johns-Fielding replied drily. “The uppermost question in my mind is, of course, Terra 10. Where do we stand in the activation proceedings?”

  Characteristically, Bond-Durant's analog-type thought processes were leaping far beyond the reaches of the Director’s Homan capabilities. He slapped his palms together and said, “This is also concern, like same. And now the best animal is chased across Terra, not guiding performance of deepspace frontline.”

  “Decode that for me,” Johns-Fielding snapped irritably.

  “Terra 10 is machine, is run by machine, and this machine is run by machine. Whole purpose of Defense Command is inject human equation into rigid machine systems. Of course, Zach is upset by machine ruling human. Does Terra 10 rule Gunner? Course not, course not.”

  “What does this have to do with—?”

  “Has to do, like so! Zach Whaleman is no Reever...is Gunner, ruler of Terra 10. No man knows more, importance of human mind over rigid machine systems. Now Zach makes protest, like same reverse, rigid machine is ruling humans. No Defense Commander can accept this—no, not one. Not this one. This does no
t make Mark Bond-Durant Reever. Like same, Zach Whaleman.”

  Johns-Fielding covered his confusion with a droll smile. “But you are the one, Mark, who alerted the Chairman to Whaleman’s anomalous behavior.”

  “Error,” the Squadroneer admitted, turning back to the window. “Would not do same now. Skronk, now, background to Zach’s behavior.”

  “But it seems that the Chairman was correct, after all,” the Director pointed out “Whaleman did break confinement and this is the only reason he is being hunted now. Our greatest concern now, Mark—and the Chairman’s, incidentally, is the status of Terra 10.”

  Bond-Durant sighed and tried again. “This is like same,” he said quietly. “Chairman is also think like machine. What is first priority, Director? What is prime concern of all Solana in this moment? Is visit from beyond Andro—correct? Is possible aggressive trespass of Solan envelope by hostile life. Is Terra 10 ready for possible threat? No, Director, Terra 10 is not ready. The machine’s master is hunted across Terra like animal. Terra 10 is not ready.”

  The color had drained from Johns-Fielding’s face. “But you assured me to the contrary. You told me that—that...”

  “I told, alternate procedures are activated. This does not tell that alternate procedures are equal to full task. Alternates could perform routine functions while maestro is temporarily absent But, Director, maestro is needed for ultimate implementation of defense plan.”

  “You told me that Whaleman’s replacement was aboard the gunship twelve hours ago!”

  “Correction, Director, I tell that Whaleman’s substitute is aboard.”

  The Defense Director gnawed on his lower lip. “What do you advise I do, Mark?” he asked quietly.

  “Restore Gunner Whaleman’s command, soonest.”

  “How can we do that?” Johns-Fielding cried. “The man has broken confinement! We can’t even find him, let alone restore his command!”

  “He will be found. Recommend full search, North America first. Emergency broadcasts. Announce complete exoneration, Gunner Whaleman. Broadcast instructions, Whaleman reports to Terra 10 soonest.”

  “It was suspected that he might seek out the Reevers again,” the Director mused. “We could sweep the area with hovercars.” A sudden thought jarred him. His hand jerked, and he turned startled eyes to his aide. “Oh, no!” he groaned.

  “What is?”

  “The medics implanted an ultrasonic receptor in Whaleman’s brain.”

  “Is what?”

  The Director leapt to his feet. “Give it to me straight and quick, Mark. How bad do we really need Whaleman on that gunship?”

  The Squadroneer raised his hands to shoulder level and let them fall back to his side. “Like same, Director, how bad is really need gunship?”

  Johns-Fielding’s hand clawed toward the communicator panel. “This is going to make me look awfully silly to the Chairman,” he said. “But... here goes nothing.”

  Blue was explaining, “See, the homer reacts to a microwave pulser from a beacon on the gunship. But we have to trigger the beacon with a special command code from our nav system. Now, it says—”

  “You got that code?” Tom Cole interrupted. “Well, it’s supposed to be all set up. See that little box right there at your left knee, Hedge? That’s the baby. When the other systems are properly meshed, you just have to push that button, and we’re on our way.”

  “So let’s get it pushed and on our way,” Cole said.

  “No, it’s not that easy,” Blue told him. “You see, we got to—”

  “I don’t like it!” Hedge protested. “I got this thing handling right now. How do I know what’s going to happen when I turn it over to the robot?”

  “It’ll happen just like it says in the book, Hedge,” Blue replied disgustedly.

  “How do you know that? How do you know that it won’t zap us right into that gunship at warp speed?”

  Stel commented, from the other seat, “We have to have faith in something, I guess.”

  Hedge retorted, “Look who’s preaching faith in a machine!”

  “It’s a machine that brought us up here,” the girl pointed out. “Or did you suddenly sprout invisible wings?”

  Tom Cole laughed. “Stel’s right, as usual. Give the machine its due credit, Hedge. Go on, Blue. Tell ’im what to do.”

  Blue said, “We first have to isolate on a field of attraction. Where’s the moon, Hedge?”

  “Ask Stel,” Hedge grunted. He relented, chuckled, and added, “Aw, it’s down behind the Earth, on the other side. So what?”

  Blue leaned across in front of the pilot and adjusted a knob on an electronic screen. “We headin’ away from it?”

  “We better be,” Hedge replied.

  Blue laughed nervously, looked back at the book on his lap, and made an adjustment to the electronic screen. “Hey, yeah, see it?” he crowed.

  Stel crowded the backrest to get a look at the pictograph. “Is that the way it really looks?” she asked in an awed tone.

  “Yeah,” Hedge said. “That’s the Earth and the Moon. That little streak there must be us.”

  “That’s us, all right,” Blue assured him. “It shows our relative relationship to the Earth-Moon field of attraction. Can you read the range markings there, Hedge? I mean, on our position?”

  The pilot leaned closer to the pictograph. “It looks like .012.”

  Blue consulted the manual again, made another adjustment to the electronic screen, and pushed a button on the nav-comm panel. An electronic hum greeted them from behind the panel. Blue looked at Tom Cole, then back to the manual. He giggled in nervous relief. “Oh, that just turned it on,” he said.

  “Well at least we got it turned on,” Hedge commented sarcastically.

  “Attention, attention, emergency broadcast,” announced a robot-voice from the panel.

  “I’d say we have a small emergency of our own,” Stel wise-cracked. “Here we are in the depths of space, and we just learned how to turn the radio on.”

  Tom Cole shot the girl an irritated glance and said, “Listen! ”

  “...Gunner Zachary Whaleman, Solan emergency, repeat, Solan emergency, report to your gunship soonest possible. All charges are deferred in interests of Solan defense, repeating, all charges are deferred. Report to your ...”

  “Now just what the Mars does that mean?” Cole yelped.

  Stel said, “I knew there was a—”

  Hedge broke in with, “Now where does that leave us?”

  The men in the rear were shuffling about nervously. Several of them surged toward the cabin. Tom Cole roared, “Stay put, just stay put!” The raiders returned to their seats, muttering to each other in subdued tones.

  “...warning, Gunner Whaleman. Avoid all contact with zing-gun equipped automats. An ultra-sonic receptor has been emplaced in your cerebral tissues. Repeating, hazard warning, Gunner ...”

  Tom Cole’s hands had flown to his head. “So that’s it!” he growled.

  Stel had lost all her color. She gasped “Zach—wh-what’s happened to him?”

  “Don’t be worrying about Zach,” Hedge said. “Worry begins at home. What are we—”

  “Okay, stop it!” Cole commanded. “All of you, just settle down and let’s take a cool look at this thing.”

  “We’re no worse off than we were,” Blue observed.

  “Blue’s right,” Cole said. “In fact, we’re better off than we’ve ever been. Now look, we’ve got a ship, and we’ve very near got ourselves a gunship. We may never get another chance like this one. We’ve got to go on with it. Ten thousand Reevers are straining at the bit right now, just waiting for our signal If we fail them now ...”

  “We can’t turn back,” Blue muttered.

  “No, we can’t. Stel, get ahold of yourself. You’ll see your redhead again, don’t worry about it. And knowing Zach, I’d say the best place to find him would be Terra 10, just like we been planning all along. If he’s not there yet, he’ll sure as Mars be getti
ng there as quick as he can. What do you say, Hedge?”

  The big blond nodded his head curtly. “You’re the king, Tom. Whatever you say suits me fine.”

  Blue was again fiddling with the nav-comm. He grunted with satisfaction and leaned toward the electronic screen, adjusted a control, and said, “Well. There lie the guns of Terra 10.”

  A tiny blip was flashing in the extreme comer of the screen. Hedge whistled softly and said, “You sure that’s her?”

  “I believe Zach wrote the book,” Blue replied, smiling tightly.

  “That’s good enough for me,” said Tom Cole. “Now how do we get there?”

  Hedge was leaning forward to read the range markings on the screen. He yelped softly and bent closer.

  “What is it?” Blue asked.

  “What does 997 mean?”

  “No point?” Blue was scanning a list of figures in the manual.

  “No point,” Hedge confirmed.

  Blue whistled loudly and turned startled eyes to Tom Cole. “How many miles is in a light-minute?” he asked, awed.

  “You mean a light-year?” Cole replied.

  “No, I mean a light-minute.” Blue pursed his lips thoughtfully and rolled his eyes toward Hedge. “186,000 miles to a second, times 60 gives you a minute.”

  “That’s more’n ten million miles,” Hedge said.

  “Okay. 997, no point, means practically one light-minute. That’s how far away Terra 10 is.”

  “That isn’t possible! ” Cole yelled.

  “That’s what it means anyway,” Blue insisted.

  “And it’s still moving,” Hedge reported, “toward Venus.”

  “This is crazy,” Stel said. “Let’s go back.”

  “We’re not going back!” Cole roared. “Hedge-will this machine take us out there?”

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Hedge replied. He turned nervous eyes to Blue. “Is everything meshed?”