Buck Rogers' Complete Adventures

by Philip Francis Nowlan

  “They’re coming out of the ship.” I spoke quietly with my hand over my mouth, for fear they might hear me. “One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine. That seems to be all. Who knows how many men a ship like that is likely to carry?”

  “About ten, if there are no passengers,” replied one of my men, probably one of those on the hillside.

  “How are they armed?” I asked.

  “Just knives,” came the reply. “They never permit hand rays on the ship. Afraid of accidents. Have a ruling against it.”

  “Leave them to us then,” I said, for I had a plan in mind. “You, on the hillsides, take the ships above. Abandon the ring target. Divide up in training on those repellor rays. You on the hilltops, all train on the repellors of the ships to the south. Shoot at the word, but not before.

  “Wilma, crawl over to your left where you can make a straight leap for the door in that ship. These men are all walking around the wreck in a bunch. When they’re on the far side, I’ll give the word and you leap through that door in one bound. I’ll follow. Maybe we won’t be seen. We’ll overpower the guard inside, but don’t shoot. We may escape being seen by both this crew and the ships above. They can’t see over this wreck.”

  It was so easy that it seemed too good to be true. The Hans who had emerged from the ship walked round the wreckage lazily, talking in guttural tones, keenly interested in the wreck, but quite unsuspicious.

  At last they were on the far side. In a moment they would be picking their way into the wreck.

  “Wilma, leap!” I almost whispered the order.

  The distance between Wilma’s hiding place and the door in the side of the Han ship was not more than fifteen feet. She was already crouched with her feet braced against a metal beam. Taking the lift of the inertron belt into her calculation, she dove head foremost, like a projectile, through the door. I followed in a split second, more clumsily, but no less speedily, bruising my shoulder painfully as I ricocheted from the edge of the opening and brought up sliding against the unconscious girl; for she evidently had hit her head against the partition within the ship into which she had crashed.

  We had made some noise within the ship. Shuffling footsteps were approaching down a well-lit gangway.

  “Any signs we have been observed?” I asked my men on the hillsides.

  “Not yet,” I heard the Boss reply. “Ships overhead still standing. No beams have been broken out. Men on ground absorbed in wreck. Most of them have crawled into it out of sight.”

  “Good,” I said quickly. “Deering hit her head. Knocked out. One or more members of the crew approaching. We’re not discovered yet. I’ll take care of them. Stand a bit longer, but be ready.”

  I think my last words must have been heard by the man who was approaching, for he stopped suddenly.

  I crouched at the far side of the compartment, motionless. I would not draw my sword if there were only one of them.

  Apparently reassured at the absence of any further sound, a man came around a sort of bulkhead—and I leaped.

  I swung my legs up in front of me as I did so, catching him full in the stomach and knocked him cold.

  I ran forward along the keel gangway, searching for the control room. I found it well up in the nose of the ship. And it was deserted. What could I do to jam the controls of the ship that would not register on the recording instruments of the other ships? I gazed at the mass of controls. Levers and wheels galore. In the center of the compartment, on a massively braced universal joint mounting, was what I took for the repellor generator. A dial on it glowed and a faint hum came from within its shielding metallic case. But I had no time to study it.

  Above all else, I was afraid that some automatic apparatus existed in the room, through which I might be heard on the other ships. The risk of trying to jam the controls was too great. I abandoned the idea and withdrew softly. I would have to take a chance that there was no other member of the crew aboard.

  I ran back to the entrance compartment. Wilma still lay where she had slumped down. I heard the voices of the Hans approaching. It was time to act. The next few seconds would tell whether the ships in the air would try or be able to melt us into nothingness.

  “Are you boys all ready?” I asked, creeping to a position opposite the door and drawing my handgun.

  Again there was a chorus of assent.

  “Then on the count of three, shoot up those rep rays—all of them—and for God’s sake, don’t miss.” I was beginning to think in the terms the others used generally—”dis” for disintegrator, “rep” for repellor. And I counted.

  I think my “three” was a bit weak. I know it took all the courage I had to utter it.

  For an agonizing instant nothing happened, except that the landing party from the ship strolled into my range of vision.

  Then, startled, they turned their eyes upward. For an instant they stood frozen with horror at whatever they saw.

  One hurled his knife at me. It grazed my cheek. Then a couple of them made a break for the doorway. The rest followed. But I fired pointblank with my hand-gun, pressing the button as fast as I could and aiming at their feet to make sure my explosive rockets would make contact and do their work.

  The detonations of my rockets were deafening. The spot on which the Hans stood flashed into a blinding glare. Then there was nothing there except their torn and mutilated corpses. They had been fairly bunched and I got them all.

  I ran to the door, expecting any instant to be hurled into infinity by the sweep of a dis ray.

  Some eighth of a mile away I saw one of the ships crash to the earth. A dis ray came into my line of vision, wavered uncertainly for a moment and then began to sweep directly toward the ship in which I stood. But it never reached it. Suddenly, like a light switched off, it shot to one side, and a moment later another vast hulk crashed to earth. I looked out, then stepped out on the ground.

  The only Han ships in the sky were two of the scouts to the south which were hanging perpendicularly, and sagging slowly down. The others must have crashed down while I was deafened by the sound of the explosion of my own rockets.

  Somebody hit the other rep ray of one of the two remaining ships and it fell out of sight beyond a hilltop. The other, farther away, drifted down diagonally, its dis ray playing viciously over the ground below it.

  I shouted with exultation and relief.

  “Take back the command, Boss!” I yelled.

  His commands, sending out jumpers in pursuit of the descending ship, rang in my ears, but I paid no attention to them. I leaped back into the compartment of the Han ship and knelt beside my Wilma. Her padded helmet had absorbed much of the blow, I thought; otherwise, her skull might have been fractured.

  “Oh, my head!” she groaned, coming to as I lifted her gently in my arms and strode out in the open with her. “We must have won, dearest, did we?”

  “We most certainly did,” I reassured her. “All but one crashed and that one is drifting down toward the south. We’ve captured this one we’re in intact. There was only one member of the crew aboard when we dove in.”

  Less than an hour afterward the Big Boss ordered the outfit to tune in ultrophones on three-twenty-three to pick up a translated broadcast of the Han intelligence office in Nu-Yok from the Susquanna station. It was in the form of a public warning and news item.

  “This is Public Intelligence Office, Nu-Yok, broadcasting warning to navigators of private ships, and news public interest. The squadron of seven ships which left Nu-Yok this morning to investigate the recent destruction of the GK-984 in the Wyoming Valley, has been destroyed by a series of mysterious explosions similar to those which wrecked the GK-984.”

  “The phones, viewplates, and all other signaling devices of five of the seven ships ceased operating suddenly at approximately the same moment, about seven-four-nine.” (According to the Han system of reckoning time, seven and forty-nine one hundredths after midnight.) “After violent disturbances, the location finders went out of
operation. Electroactivity registers applied to the territory of the Wyoming Valley remain dead.”

  “The Intelligence Office has no indication of the kind of disaster which overtook the squadron except certain evidences of the explosive phenomena similar to those in he case of the GK-984, which recently went dead while beaming the valley in a systematic effort to wipe out the works and camps of the tribesmen. The Office considers, as obvious, the deduction that the tribesmen have developed a new, and as yet undetermined, technique of attack on airships, and has recommended to the Heaven-Born that immediate and unlimited authority to be given the Navigation Intelligence Division to make a investigation of this technique and develop a defense against it.

  “In the meantime it urges that private navigators avoid this territory in particular, and in general hold as closely as possible to the official inter-city routes, which now are being patrolled by the entire force of the Military Office, which is beaming the routes generously to width of ten miles. The Military office reports that it is at present considering no retaliatory raids against the tribesmen. With the Navigation Intelligence Division, it holds that unless further evidence of the nature of the disaster is developed in the near future, the public interest will be better served, and at smaller cost of life by a scientific research than by attempts at retaliation which may bring destruction on all ships engaging therein. So unless further evidence is developed, or the Heaven-Born orders to the contrary, the Military will hold to a defensive policy.

  “Unofficial intimations from Lo-Tan are to the effect that the Heaven-Council has the matter under consideration.

  “The Navigation Intelligence Office permits the broadcast of the following condensation of its detailed observations.

  “The squadron proceeded to a position above the Wyoming Valley where the wreck of the GK-984 was known to be, from the record of its location finder before it went dead recently. There the bottom projectoscope relays of all ships registered the wreck of the GK-984 Teleprojectoscope views of the wreck and the bowl of the valley showed no evidence of the presence of tribesmen. Neither ship registers nor base registers showed any indication of electroactivity except from the squadron itself. On orders from the Base Squadron Commander, the LD-218, LK-745 and LG25 scouted southward at 8,000 feet. The GK-43, GK-981 and GK-220 stood above at 2,500 feet, and the GK-18 landed to permit personal inspection of the wreck by the science committee. The party debarked, leaving one man on board in the control cabin. He set all projectoscopes at universal focus except RB43,” (this meant the third projectoscope from the bow of the ship, on the right hand side of the lower deck) “with which he followed the landing group as it walked around the wreck.

  “The first abnormal phenomenon recorded by any of the instruments at Base was that relayed automatically from projectoscope RB-4 of the GK-18, which as the party disappeared from view in back of the wreck recorded two green missiles of roughly Cylindrical shape, projected from the wreckage into the landing compartment of the ship. At such close range these were not clearly defined, owing to the universal focus at which the projectoscope was set. The Base Captain of GK-18 at once ordered the man in the control room to investigate, and saw him leave the control room in compliance with this order. An instant later confused sounds reached the control-room electrophone, such as might be made by a man falling heavily, and footsteps approached the control room, a figure entering and leaving the control room hurriedly. The Base Captain now believes, and the stills of the photorecord support his belief, that this was not the crew member who had been left in the control room. Before the Base Captain could speak to him he left the room, nor was any response given to the attention signal the Captain flashed throughout the ship.

  “At this point projectoscope RB-3 of the ship, now out of focus control, dimly showed the landing party walking back toward the ship. RBA showed it more clearly. Then on both these instruments, a number of blinding explosives in rapid succession were seen and the electrophone relays registered terrific concussions; the ship’s electronic apparatus and projectoscopes apparatus went dead.

  “Reports of the other ships’ Base Observers and Executives, backed by the photorecords, show the explosions as taking place in the midst of the landing party as it returned, evidently unsuspicious, to the ship. Then in rapid succession they indicate that terrific explosions occurred inside and outside the three ships standing above close to their rep ray generators, and all signals from these ships thereupon went dead.

  “Of the three ships scouting to the south, the LD-248 suffered an identical fate, at the same moment. Its records add little to the knowledge of the disaster. But with LX-745 and the LG-25, it was different.

  “The relay instruments of the LK-745 indicated the destruction by an explosion of the rear rep ray generator, and that the ship hung stern down for a short space, swinging like a pendulum. The forward viewplates and indicators did not cease functioning, but their records are chaotic, except for one projectoscope still, which shows the bowl of the valley, and the GK-981 falling, but no visible evidence of tribesmen. The control-room viewplate is also a chaotic record of the ship’s crew tumbling and falling to the rear wall. Then the forward rep ray generator exploded, and all signals went dead.

  “The fate of the LG-25 was somewhat similar, except that this ship hung nose down, and drifted on the wind southward as it slowly descended out of control.”

  “As its control room was shattered, verbal report from its Action Captain was precluded. The record of the interior rear viewplates shows members of the crew climbing toward the rear rep ray generator in an attempt to establish manual control of it, and increase the lift. The projectoscope relays, swinging in wide arcs, recorded little of value except at the ends of their swings. One of these, from a machine which happened to be set in telescopic focus, shows several views of great value, picturing the falls of the other ships, and all of the rear projectoscope records enable the reconstruction in detail of the pendulum and torsional movements of the ship, and its sag toward the earth. But none of the views showing the forest below contain any indication of tribesmen’s presence. A final explosion put this ship out of commission at a height of 1,000 feet, and at a point four miles S. by E. of the center of the valley.”

  The message ended with a repetition of the warning to other airmen to avoid the valley.

  CHAPTER 7

  Incredible Treason

  After receiving this report, and reassurances of support from the Big Bosses of the neighboring gangs, Hart determined to reestablish the Wyoming Valley community.

  A careful survey of the territory showed that it was only the northern sections and slopes that had been “beamed” by the first Han ship.

  The synthetic fabrics plant had been partially wiped out, though the lower levels underground had not been reached by the dis ray. The forest screen above, however, had been annihilated, and it was determined to abandon it after removing all usable machinery and evidences of the processes that might be of interest to the Han scientists, should they return to the valley in the future.

  The ammunition plant, and the rocket-ship plant, which had just been about to start operation at the time of the raid, were intact, as were the other important plants.

  Hart brought the Big Camboss up from the Swquanna Works, and laid out new camp locations, scattering them farther to the south, and avoiding ground which had been seared by the Han beams and the immediate locations of the Han wrecks.

  During this period, a sharp check was kept upon Han messages, for the phone plant had been one of the first to be put in operation, and when it became evident that the Hans did not intend any immediate reprisals, the entire membership of the community was summoned back, and normal life was resumed.

  Wilma and I had been married the day after the destruction of the ships, and spent this intervening period in a delightful honeymoon, camping high in the mountains. On our return, we had a camp of our own, of course. We were assigned to location 1017. And as might be expected,
we had a great deal of banter over which one of us was Camp Boss. The title stood after my name on the Big Boss’ records, and those of the Big Camboss, of course, but Wilma airily held that this meant nothing at all—and generally succeeded in making me admit it whenever she chose.

  I found myself a full-fledged member of the gang now, for I had elected to search no farther for a permanent alliance, much as I would have liked to familiarize myself with this 25th Century life in other sections of the country.

  The Wyomings had a high morale, and had prospered under the rule of Big Boss Hart for many years. But many of the gangs, I found, were badly organized, lacked strong hands in authority, and were rife with intrigue. Oh the whole, I thought I would be wise to stay with a group which had already proved its friendliness, and in which I seemed to have prospects of advancement. Under these modern social and economic conditions, the kind of individual freedom to which I had been accustomed in the 20th Century was impossible. This entire modern life, it appeared to me, judging from my ancient viewpoint, was organized along what I called “political” lines. And in this connection, it amused me to notice how universal had become the use of the word “Boss.” There was as little formality in his relations with his followers as there was in the case of the 20th Century political boss, and the same high respect paid him by his followers as well as the same high consideration by him of their interest. He was just as much of an autocrat, and just as much dependent upon the general popularity of his actions for the ability to maintain his autocracy.