by Paul Brandis
Phil turned to face his men. "You've all got oxygen in your helmets, make sure it's turned on." He grabbed the man nearest him. "It's going to get cold out here. Take a man and go back and get robes for the men. Take them off of bodies if you have to, but get them," and he shoved him toward the doors.
To the rest he gestured toward the pillars along the porch. "All right, set up behind these columns. We've got to drive those miners outside of the walls again."
Even as he spoke, more men were scuttling out of the mines.
Phil pulled a squad leader aside. "Get up to that control room above the auditorium and secure that gate. Go!"
The buzzing sleds did not diminish the flood of men building up around the bodies at the gate, and Phil's troops were forced to slaughter the miners in self-defense.
He cursed and called Dante. "Can't you get me more men here? I can't hold the miners much longer. I'm having to kill too many."
Dante sounded dubious. "I don't know. Ol' General Jed isn't doing that well himself. And one thing more, I hate to bring this up at this time, but is Thea out there with you?"
"Thea? What are you talking about? Isn't she in the ship with you?"
"Well, she was watching with me here at the console, but then she was gone."
A miner broke through the barrier of bodies at the gate, and rushed the steps swinging a heavy wrench above his head. Phil fired and the man sprawled forward in a broken heap. "Look, I can't worry about that now. Ray? Can you hear me? Are you ready aboard the Flyer?"
"I'm ready, chief, but I sure hate to come out and blast those poor devils. It's not their fault they want to fight for their drugs."
"I know, I know, but if it comes down to whether it's us or them..."
"I understand. You want me to bring my men out?"
"Right. Send them out and have them line them up along the outside of the dome, but no firing until I give the order. As soon as they're unloaded, take the Flyer out of here."
"But what if you have to pull out?"
"Nobody's pulling out. Win or lose, we stay."
"Right."
Slowly the Frisco Flyer maneuvered to the edge of the dome and settled in a thundercloud of grey dust. Instantly a line of men in thermal suits and helmets double timed out of the ships hatch and lined up next to the dome. The last trooper had barely leaped off the ramp when the Flyer blasted slowly up and away leaving smoke and dust to hang in the light gravity.
Inside the dome, a swirling, screaming mass of miners piled up at the Temple gate. And still the gates remained open. Then slowly they began closing, dragging the fallen miners with them.
But there were too many bodies. They piled up like cordwood between the gates.
Phil knew what he had to do. "Come on," he yelled at the astonished men, "we've got to go out there and free those gates," and he charged down the temple steps.
CHAPTER 16
A hailstorm of clubs and tools rained down on the men as they dashed for the gate. A man crumpled at Phil's right, a hatchet splitting his chest. Another screamed and spun to the ground as a pick tore a chunk from his shoulder. Trying to shield himself as a hammer caromed off of his helmet, Phil yelled into his mike. "Sleds, quit running around up there. Get down here and cover us. Try to force the miners back so we can clear this gate."
But the maddened miners surged on over the bodies of their fallen mates. While some of the Terran soldiers struggled to clear carcasses from the gates under the barrage of falling weapons, others fired fearfully into the mob, causing more bodies.
And above them, unimpaired by the plodding repair robot, air whistled out of a tear in the dome. The temperature plummeted below freezing, and Phil felt his fingers stiffening with cold. The miners, dressed only in thin, shabby uniforms, seemed unaffected. Drugs.
Suddenly someone pushed past Phil. To the top of the stack of bodies leaped Thea, completely naked in the freezing air. She raised her arms, and then, to the total amazement of all, slowly began to sway. On the tenuous footing of a dead man's back she writhed in the ancient movement of the temple dance. Her song, a high keening wail so familiar to the addicts, rose over the head of the crowd.
The miners paused, their clubs hanging in midair.
Dante, observing on his monitors, keyed quickly, and the sound of a hypnotic Cult hymn drifted down over the crowd, seemingly from nowhere. The volume rose and fell, as if controlled by the naked girl's movement.
As the mesmeric dance entranced their minds, the miners arms fell. Their faces slackened to dull leers of lust.
Phil tore his eyes from Thea, and glanced around. Even his soldiers' mouths hung agape, their minds captivated.
He whispered into his mike. "Dante, what now? She can't keep this up much longer. It's freezing out here."
"Mm, yes. I was just contemplating that."
"Yeah? Well, you better contemplate up an idea, or we'll be right back where we started from, only this time with a frozen goddess."
"Well, you've captured their attention. Now's your chance to convince them that you mean them no harm. And you'd better hurry. She doesn't look like she can go on much longer."
Indeed, the tall, beautiful girl began to falter. Shivers contracted her movement, forcing a break in the rhythm.
Dante's voice nagged in Phil's ear. "Well, you golden-tongued devil, say something."
"All right, all right. How do I do it?"
"Just talk, they'll hear."
Phil climbed up on the pile of dead men next to Thea, and took a deep breath. "Miners of Alpene." He paused, then hissed, "Dante, I don't hear anything."
"You hear it, and so do they. You just don't know it. I'm transmitting on a subsonic frequency. Talk. They'll get it."
"Okay; I hope you know what I'm doing." He turned, watching the transfixed faces, and forced himself to speak slowly and distinctly. "Men of Alpene. We have not come here to steal what is yours; to take what you need. We have come here to give you more. We have come here to give you freedom. If we can overthrow the Cult, we will tear up all of your contracts. You can come and go as you like."
The sound of his words grew louder, blending with the music. "If you want to go home, we will fly you there. If you want to stay, you can own the mines." The volume swelled. "We know you want to be free of Cult domination. Join with us. We need you. We want you."
In the back of his mind he heard Dante talking low. "Now you're talking. Keep it up. Look at their faces."
The men seemed to be waking up, blinking and frowning, and looking around. Phil pulled off his helmet and the frigid air tore at his face, catching his breath. He forced himself to breathe deeply.
"That's right, miners. You deserve a reward, a fair return for your labor. Not just a cold death on some distant planet, but a well-earned rest after years of toil." He waved his arms to draw their attention from the girl, and his voice boomed out over the sea of upraised faces. "Join
with us. Put down your tools and come into the temple. Hear what we have to say. What do you have to lose?"
Their eyes drifted to him now. Pausing, he spoke quietly to a nearby soldier. "Quick, take her inside and get her warmed up."
The young man did not move. "Soldier," barked Phil, shaking the man out of his hypnotized reverie. "Make a move."
Phil glanced back at the miners. They were becoming restless. He grasped the girl, halting her dance, and she collapsed in his arms.
Quickly he handed her down to the waiting arms of the soldiers, and turned back to the miners. "That's right, men. The goddess will dance for you again on the inside. Now come with us. Help us. Help us with these poor, fallen workers. They were killed because of the terrible lies told to you by the Cult. They said we came here to take away what you need. That's a lie. We came here to give you more. We have came here to give you your freedom."
He bent down, picked up the lifeless worker, and in the light gravity. cradled him in his arms. "Come. Help us care for your men."
Dante manipulated the mus
ic, and it now boomed out in a vibrant march of triumph.
Phil backed toward the temple carrying the miner. "Come on, men. Follow us. Follow us to freedom."
And they did. They picked up the dead and wounded and carried them into the warmth of the temple lobby.
Usually, this was where the followers met the Glad Hand, professional greeters dressed all in white and sporting beaming smiles. But the greeter's handshake injected a powerful aphrodisiac from flesh-like gloves.
The followers knew the smiles were surgically implanted to give the illusion of welcome. The fake smiles could not hide the dead, indifferent eyes.
How different the compassionate faces of Kim and her well-scrubbed, suntanned Terran girls who now met the miners at the doors. And as soon as the men saw the women's loving and concerned faces, many burst into tears. The women comforted them, and ushered them into the temple.
As Phil walked by, he whispered to Kim, "Am I glad to see you."
She smiled. "Dante said you might need us here."
Phil nodded decisively. "Thank God for that."
"You're welcome," came the reply from his earplug.
"Don't get smart."
"And don't you get careless. If you're going to have some sort of ceremony, you'd better get up to the control booth and make sure the boys know what to do. If you can, patch the console into me. I'll try to figure it out."
"Good thinking." Leaving a squad of men as protection for the girls, he ran up the stairwell to the control booth. As he ran, he panted, "I was wondering, how did you get the sound of the music and my voice to the men?"
He heard the complacency in Dante's voice. "Easy. No farm boy would think of going out to the fields without having an array of speakers on his sled to listen to his favorite clod-kicking music while he supervises the robots. I simply transmitted using the sleds' sound equipment. Effective, wasn't it, coming from above like that?"
"Very. Thanks a lot."
"Don't mention it."
***
Phil stood in the middle of the stage. There were no special effects, no incense, or music. The houselights were on, and Thea sat on one side of the stage wrapped in a blanket. Kim and her nurses passed throughout the audience handing out cups of hot soup, and administering medication to shaking addicts.
Phil nodded to the men. "My name is Phil Dyak and you're safe now. The priests have been rounded up and won't bother you anymore."
Actually, a few priests, addicted as badly as the miners, still fought on with crazed determination, but Jed was mopping up the pockets of resistance with ruthless zeal.
"We want you," Phil continued, "to join us. We'll take care of you; get you well. Then you can either go home, or take over the mines and work them for your own profit."
Phil's ear plug hummed. "We got more problems," said Dante.
Phil smiled at the miners. "So, take a little time, get some soup or whatever, and talk it over. I'll get back to you in a few minutes." He stepped back from the edge of the stage.
"Now what?" he growled at his partner. "Why are you interrupting me now just when I'm making my pitch?"
"You better make more than a pitch. Remember that I told you a Cult attack ship was on its way?"
"So? We'll get set up and be waiting for them when they arrive."
"You better get set up pretty quickly. They're here."
Suddenly a huge, augmented voice roared down over the temple. "Men of Alpene. We've come to save you. Rise up, and strike down the usurpers, the transgressors. For this you will receive your reward."
A moan of fear swelled through the auditorium.
CHAPTER 17
Phil raised his arms and rushed to the front of the stage. "Miners of Alpene, hear me. You have reason to be worried. Look what the Cult has done to you. You used to be men, now they've made you little better than animals grubbing in the ground. Join with us and be men again, in charge of your own destinies."
Again the rumble overhead. "Men of Alpene, we are descending now to walk among you. Follow us or face the terrible consequences of your error. Your guilt will deprive you of your daily bread of heavenly ecstasy."
Phil said softly, "Dante, give me more volume." Then to the men, "That's right, they want you to follow them. But we want you to join us. We want to help you take charge of your own lives."
One miner near the front stood and looked fearfully around. "But they got an attack ship."
The men nodded and murmured in frightened agreement.
Phil waved aside the complaint with a sneer. "One attack ship? That's nothing. We've got two attack ships. The Cult's very own. How do you think we made this raid to rescue you? Our freedom fighters simply went and took the ships away from the Cult. If we can do it, you can do it."
Jed burst through the curtain behind Phil, his face twisted in panic. Phil grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted triumphantly to the men. "And here's the man who led our victorious troops against the hated Cult, General Googan."
In the spotlight, Jed stared out at the army of upraised faces, and struggled to don a stalwart look.
Phil raised a fist. "And he'll lead you all to victory too. Just join him and his crack troops, and you too can be a member of the A.L.A., the Alpene Liberation Army," and he shook his fist in rhythm, chanting, "A.L.A., A.L.A., A.L.A..."
Jed stared at him in disbelief, until Phil dug his fingers into the back of his neck, then he too raised his fist in the chant as the men rose to their feet and joined in.
After a few more choruses, Phil raised his hands for silence. "All right now, we must work fast." He pointed to
the men in front. "You men in the first four rows, come to the back of the stage with me, and we'll get you some real weapons. You'll be working with General Googan and his
troops. The rest of you men go back to your barracks. Get warm clothing, food, and blankets. Go deep in the mines. The Cult may try a siege, and you'll have to wait them out. Pick up the soup on your way out. You'll feel better with a hot meal."
He turned to Jed. "Quick, get these miners some weapons, and pick up the troops from the Flyer. Get ready to defend this place. Set up blockades everywhere, starting at the landing compound. Things are really going to get hot now."
Jed hesitated. Phil smiled and slapped him on the back to waken him to action. "So go. You wanted to be a general? Well, your army is growing all the time."
Cautiously, the Cult attack ship dropped through the open dome and settled some distance from her sister ship in the landing compound. A battalion of Gideon marines skittered out, their blasters ready. Nothing moved on the loading dock. Above, three pursuit ships hovered, poised to strike.
The last marine had barely cleared the ship, when the three pursuits exploded in rapid succession, and great shreds of metal rained down through the plastic dome.
Phil, watching the explosions on a portable monitor deep in the temple's dungeon chuckled and keyed his mike. "Nice shooting, Ray. Now wake up the crew on that attack ship."
Another cannonade blasted a wide furrow in the cement just in front of control room of the attack ship.
Phil keyed the Cult ship's frequency. "This is Dyak. Make any attempt to lift off, and the next round will bore out your control room."
Phil's speaker was silent for a moment, then crackled with a deep, augmented voice. "Yes, Dyak, we recognize your voice. Are you still trying to annoy us? We will put a stop to that." The voice's volume rose. "Prepare to meet your—"
Phil interrupted wearily. "No time for sermons. Got to kill priests." He flipped channels. "Ray, I don't want anyone getting back on that ship. Open fire, but don't hit the ships."
"I got it, boss," came the reply, and rounds showered down on the compound.
As the marines scrambled in terror for the loading dock, they met a fusillade of automatic fire from every window. By sheer weight of numbers, they cascaded into the temple, but faced ceaseless rounds as they struggled to advance.
Ambushes hid in every doorway;
blockades at every turn. They would fight down one corridor, find it blocked, turn and find withering fire streaming from their rear.
The marines outnumbered the temple defenders, but they fought for pay. The Terrans fought for glory--and for revenge.
Finally, as the battle settled into a war of attrition at key intersections, Phil turned with a wicked grin to his men. "All right, you Terran pigstickers, it's our turn to have some fun. Let's rumble," and he trotted up the corridor.
Coming to a group of Terrans huddled in the shelter of a corner, he paused. "Who's in charge?"
A freckled lad with the shoulders of an ox and a corporal's arm band moved over. "They've got a heat seeker. Stick a head out and it tears it off."
Phil nodded. "A heat seeker, huh? Well, we'll give them some heat." He called a man forward with tanks strapped to his back. "Flame the hall. Wait for my signal. Then flame their barricade."
The flame thrower inched forward, blew a blast of billowing flame down the hall. As soon as a wave of heat seekers flew into the boiling cloud of fire and exploded, Phil pushed him into the hall, and he threw another ball of flames to envelope the Cult barricade.
Then Phil jumped up in front of his men, whipped out his knife and roared, "Charge!"
The priests, seeing the specter of madmen screaming out of a wave of flames brandishing long, murderous blades, concluded they were not being paid enough to face the supernatural, and threw up their hands. They were quickly bundled off to the dungeon.
Wise priests surrendered, foolish ones tried to fight their way back to the ship. They ended their careers on the compound concrete, the victims of Ray's deadly gunners.
Phil, a blaster hooked in the crook of his arm, strolled the corridors with Dante. "All right. The men and the miners are fed?"
Dante nodded.
"A guard roster set up to guard the prisoners?"