by Anthology
It was a pretty sight to the Earthians—those soundless globes of green flame that glowed dazzling for an infinitesimal instant, on the rich jewels and polished rifle barrels of the hordesmen coursing close by. But they were not deceived.
A Space Man vanished, torn to tiny fragments that mixed with the cosmic dust of the void. A huge disc, bearing a cylindrical battle car, was hit, and a jagged hole torn in its side. It twisted crazily, turning over and over. Austin and Jan felt the vibration of shell fragments banging violently against their own vehicle.
The nearer nebulous cloud had ceased to be a cloud now. It had resolved itself into a myriad swarm of dim specks which the Earthians knew were Space Men. Plainly Alkebar's minions were charging rapidly, bent on wiping Telaba's smaller force out of existence at one blow.
The bombardment doubled, tripled, quadrupled in intensity until it seemed that all space had turned to fire. Before the withering blast the army of the rebel chief was speedily being dissolved into drifting wreckage.
An exploding torpedo ripped several yards of armor from one side of Telaba's vehicle and reduced one of his black gunners to a mangled pulp from which the purple fluid spurted.
The force of the concussion turned the great disc completely over. Battered and blinded by the green glare, which exceeded even the sun of the void in intensity the Earthians tumbled against their weapons. Janice Darell started to scream but managed to check it—biting her lips savagely.
An explosive rifle bullet struck the huge vehicle, and it wavered.
Shelby spoke to Telaba who was clinging firmly to a stanchion with one hand and operating his signaling machine with the other. "Turn back, chief," the Earthman advised. "Our only motive is to annoy them and delay them. To continue this charge can mean nothing but destruction for our entire force."
Telaba sensed the mental vibrations that went with Shelby's words. "To turn back cannot do, Earthman," he said. And it seemed to the young engineer that there was a vibrant note of sadness in his telepathic voice. "Look! You see all guns and catapults point forward only. Not swing to rear—same on all gun cars. If run, not possible to shoot at chasing enemy. Then they get us. That Alkebar's idea so his men must take offensive or die. He think that make them strong."
"But the riflemen are not so handicapped," Shelby persisted. "We can die here if necessary, but someone must live to carry on. Order them back!"
The chieftain shook his bulbous head. "To try what you say—useless. They not desert comrades or king. If I command, they disobey." There was a finality in his words which neither of the Earthians tried to dispute.
So that was it! Well, there was no sense wasting time talking. Shelby gripped a machine gun and sent a spray of explosive bullets ripping out into the ether. Janice did likewise.
As they worked their weapons they spoke rapidly to each other. "You understood what Telaba said? You know what that means?" Shelby asked.
"Yes. It's about the end of our tape, but that's nothing. We've been fairly lucky. All we can do now is hope that Ankova wins through to Mars in time, and fight like—like—"
"Hell!" Shelby's words slipped between clenched teeth, and Jan flashed him a quick smile even as their tracer streams crossed in the midst of a group of hurtling Alkebarians who had pressed too close together.
"Anyway, good luck!"
"And the very best of luck to you!"
The opposing forces were very close together now. The first of the Alkebarians were plainly visible—their long guns flashing—their ebony arms waving signals which probably passed for shouts of triumph among their ranks.
Chapter X
The Coming of the Atomic Ray
Both armies had cut down their velocity enormously, but still they tore along at breakneck speed. And they moved like true Cossacks of the void, directing their machines by deft motions on the mysterious levers. Now diving, now climbing, now swinging this way and that to avoid the missiles of their opponents, they tore on. And death was everywhere.
No torpedoes were flying now, but machine guns and rifles were working terrible havoc. And so the horde of Alkebar closed with the forces of the rebel chieftain.
The machine which bore Telaba, directed by its skillful driver, dived and swung and zigzagged like a mad thing; but still the bullets rattled against the metal armor of the car. Its sides had been repeatedly struck, yet owing to its tough shell, had not yet been disabled.
Everywhere about it, mounted horrors whirled in an inextricable tangle, shooting and loading, and dying by the green flashes, their vitals strewing the ether.
Telaba had deserted his post at the signaling machine, for further orders were useless. For his rebels at least, it was every man for himself. He too was operating a machine gun.
The stars spun dizzily about the Earthians, as the machine beneath them careened in its insane fight. Every time a Space Man wearing a red circle on his breast crossed their sights, a burst spat from their hot weapons, frequently with good results.
A group of at least twenty Alkebarians sought to attack from the blind spot at the rear. But the driver twisted levers with a quick jerk, and the luckless riflemen found themselves facing four streams of steel. Those that could, darted out of range and renewed the attack from a different angle.
Frequently, throughout the battle, Shelby had wondered what had happened to Hekalu Selba and the Atomic Ray. Why wasn't he on hand to assist his ally, the Black Emperor? Oh, well, regardless of whether the Martian was there or not the outcome would evidently be the same—only now it would be more dragged out.
The Earthian was surprised therefore, when suddenly the efforts of the enemy to exterminate them, which had been so intense in the brief moments since they had closed, suddenly lessened. Alkebarians were darting hastily toward the rear. Their actions did not suggest flight; it seemed that they were going to meet a new and more terrible enemy. The rebels could wait.
And the people of the rebel chief for the moment did not pursue—did not even fire. For they too saw! To the rear, in the center of Alkebar's horde, came the dazzling flares of explosions. So many and so close together were they, that they looked like a titanic conflagration of green flame. Against the light, the silhouettes of confused and bewildered space riders careened, like frightened pollywogs. The holocaust moved—swung. It was like a tapered column of fire veiled by a faint bluish haze.
The Earthians, Telaba, and the two remaining Space Men, forgetful of everything else, were staring in awed wonder at the phenomenon through the forward observation bay. It was Shelby who found the first part of the explanation.
"It's the Atomic Ray!" he almost shrieked. "Freeing the atomic energy in the materials that make up the bodies of Alkebar's men—literally causing their flesh and bones to explode! But how—what the devil—!"
"Look!" cried Jan. She pointed far up over their heads to where the cone of faintly bluish light swung, free from the milling horde. Up and up to its apex, and there hung what appeared to be a tiny cocoon of burnished silver.
The girl peered through her binoculars for a long moment. "I see the name. It is the Selba," she said. "Hekalu has made a mistake—he's attacking the wrong force! Or—or some ally of ours has gained control of the ship!" she hazarded.
"No time to make guess now," said Telaba. "To fight, much better." He had returned to the signaling mechanism, and was working it with cool efficiency, rallying his battered forces.
Like tigers they fell upon the Alkebarians, shattering them out of existence with a steady storm of rifle bullets. They met with only a weak resistance for the foe seemed to realize that the fates had played them false. The blue ray had been their promise, and now, like the sword of their ancient god of destruction, it was weaving calmly this way and that, snuffing them into nothingness. The Black Emperor's horde was dissolving, scattering.
Battalions of terrified Space Men poured past the rebel chieftain's car, shooting only hurried and ineffective volleys at their enemies, who pressed fiercely upon them. And
never did Jan and Shelby miss a chance to spray them with searing bursts of machine-gun fire.
There was a lull. The Earthians took the opportunity to look up at the angel of death that was the Selba, far above. Most of Alkebar's huge army had already perished, or had dispersed in flight into the desert of space from which it had been recruited. But that the space ship would presently be engaged in a serious fight was evident.
A determined force which must have numbered a hundred thousand, was hurtling up at it, surrounding the craft with a halo of bursting torpedoes. At the head of the body of Space Men was a huge beast bearing on its back a car similar to Telaba's. Veri-colored signal stars spurted from it. Alkebar himself must be in it directing operations!
Coolly the guiding hand aboard the Selba was swinging his dreadful weapon this way and that, annihilating the attackers as one might annihilate a swarm of mosquitoes with a blowtorch. Half of them had already been reduced to those basic, intangible vibrations which constitute all substance. It was terrible, it was glorious; but what could it all mean? Hekalu's ship!
The still formidable remnants of the vengeance squadron was seeking to close in—to grapple with the vessel. The Selba was trying to dart out of their way, but the speed of the Space Men, a gift of Nature, was greater than that of this fastest ship designed by man. Grimly, in the face of almost certain death, they kept on. A score or so succeeded in landing on the curving hull, and, like leeches they clung to it. The Atomic Ray arched angrily, cutting a deep swath through those who still sought a hold.
And then the gleaming form of the Selba was completely hidden by the swarm of enraged horrors that poured over it. The Atomic Ray was snuffed out. The beholders saw the air lock being pried open, and the Space Men crowding into the interior of the craft. For a second the Selba wobbled crazily, and then her rocket motors ceased to flame.
"What are we waiting for? We have friends up there!" Jan cried.
Telaba flashed his orders, and the entire cavalcade charged toward the vessel, their guns spewing flame.
It was only a matter of a minute or so before that hurtling torrent of rebels had swept the Alkebarians from their prey. Those of the Black Emperor's men who had forced their way into the ship managed to hold the entrance for a short time, but under the urgings of their intrepid chief, the zealous rebels shot and hewed their enemies down as though they had been paper marionettes. The way was clear.
Telaba waved an order to his driver, and the space beast drew up alongside the Selba. Expectantly eager, the Earthians clambered aboard, followed by the chief.
The ship was a shambles. Its corridors were littered with bodies of Space Men who wore on their breasts the red circle which signified loyalty to the Black Emperor. Telaba's followers had done well.
The three made their way to the control room. Intuitively they had sensed what they would find there, and so, they were not surprised at what they saw—wreckage and the carcasses of Alkebar's warriors. The Martian had put up a stiff fight.
Shelby bent over the armored form of Akar Hekalu Selba which was sprawling on the floor, beside the pilot seat. A gaping hole in the tough metal plating under his right arm, and a thin trickle of blood, told clearly what had happened. "They got him," the Earthman muttered. "But why?"
Jan's eyes had wandered to the narrow desk before the pilot seat. There were the instruments and devices by means of which the ship was controlled, and there was the lever which had moved the ray projector in its mounting just beneath the nose of the craft. A calculating pad and a stylus were lying on the desk.
Something was written on the pad—a message. She called to Shelby, and together they read the brief, hastily scrawled note. It was in English:
"To Janice Darell and Austin Shelby, Greeting. Alkebar is breaking into the ship, and Telaba is coming. You will be with him, I know. From among my enemies I have chosen my friends. A man must have friends, and traitors do not serve. Forgive me for stealing your glory, Mr. Shelby. I shall be grateful. Sidi Yadi, Hekalu Selba, Akar."
Shelby looked at Jan and then at Telaba who was standing close beside them. "So that's it," he said slowly. "Nobody is totally bad."
"Not even Hekki," Jan put in. A hint of a wistful smile flickered about her lips. "I guess it's the end now," she went on. "A glorious adventure. Back to Earth!" Her voice had taken on a dreamy exultant quality.
"The end, Jan?" Austin asked. "Haven't you forgotten something?"
She looked puzzled, and then she laughed a brief gay little laugh which made roguish dimples twinkle in her cheeks. Even her fantastic attire could not hide her beauty. "You ridiculous old dumb-bell! Of course it isn't the end—just the beginning—with you!"
It was a considerable time before Shelby was able to repair the Selba sufficiently so that she could get underway for Mars but the task was finished at last. Escorted by the rebel chief's fierce hordesmen, they set out for the Red Planet.
Somehow, snatches of the ancient Bedouin song tinkled in Shelby's mind. He had read old books. "Across the desert I come to thee, On a stallion shod with fire…."
That did not quite fit the situation, for Jan was with him. But his steed, the Selba, was truly shod with fire. The rocket nozzles—and damaged though she was, she behaved like a thoroughbred. And out there in the void beside the ship—what were those shapes?—bizarre, impossible, yet real—real.
In docks scattered over Earth and Mars, battleships of space and their crews wait expectantly for an alarm that may never come. Telescopes comb the sky. Out there the Star People, new arrivals in the solar system, are shifting, moving about restlessly. But the planets feel secure. Their fleets could cope with the Space Men, were they a hundred times more numerous. And once in a while, on the desolate Sahara, or Mohave or Taraal, shadows come, settling down like flecks of darkness from the midnight heaven. They are Telaba's and Ankova's people. For a while—a day perhaps—they stay, bartering their exotic treasures for human wares. Then silently, mysteriously, they are gone, into the night….
* * *
Contents
ANYTHING YOU CAN DO
By Randall Garrett
[1]
Like some great silver-pink fish, the ship sang on through the eternal night. There was no impression of swimming; the fish shape had neither fins nor a tail. It was as though it were hovering in wait for a member of some smaller species to swoop suddenly down from nowhere, so that it, in turn, could pounce and kill.
But still it moved and sang.
Only a being who was thoroughly familiar with the type could have told that this particular fish was dying.
In shape, the ship was rather like a narrow flounder—long, tapered, and oval in cross-section—but it showed none of the exterior markings one might expect of either a living thing or a spaceship. With one exception, the smooth silver-pink exterior was featureless.
That one exception was a long, purplish-black, roughened discoloration that ran along one side for almost half of the ship's seventeen meters of length. It was the only external sign that the ship was dying.
Inside the ship, the Nipe neither knew nor cared about the discoloration. Had he thought about it, he would have deduced the presence of the burn, but it was by far the least of his worries.
The ship sang, and the song was a song of death.
The internal damage that had been done to the ship was far more serious than the burn on the surface of the hull. It was that internal damage which occupied the thoughts of the Nipe, for it could, quite possibly, kill him.
He had, of course, no intention of dying. Not out here. Not so far, so very far, from his own people. Not out here, where his death would be so very improper.
He looked at the ball of the yellow-white sun ahead and wondered that such a relatively stable, inactive star could have produced such a tremendously energetic plasmoid, one that could still do such damage so far out. It had been a freak, of course. Such suns as this did not normally produce such energetic swirls of magnetohydrodynamic force.
But the thing had been there, nonetheless, and the ship had hit it at high velocity. Fortunately the ship had only touched the edge of the swirling cloud—otherwise the ship would have vanished in a puff of incandescence. But it had done enough. The power plants that drove the ship at ultralight velocities through the depths of interstellar space had been so badly damaged that they could only be used in short bursts, and each burst brought them closer to the fusion point. Even when they were not being used they sang away their energies in ululations of wavering vibration that would have been nerve-racking to a human being.
The Nipe had heard the singing of the engines, recognized it for what it was, realized that he could do nothing about it, and dismissed it from his mind.
Most of the instruments were powerless; the Nipe was not even sure he could land the vessel. Any attempt to use the communicator to call home would have blown his ship to atoms.
The Nipe did not want to die, but, if die he must, he did not want to die foolishly.
It had taken a long time to drift in from the outer reaches of this sun's planetary system, but using the power plants any more than was absolutely necessary would have been foolhardy.
The Nipe missed the companionship his brother had given him for so long; his help would be invaluable now. But there had been no choice. There had not been enough supplies for two to survive the long inward fall toward the distant sun. The Nipe, having discovered the fact first, had, out of his mercy and compassion, killed his brother while the other was not looking. Then, having disposed of his brother with all due ceremony, he had settled down to the long, lonely wait.
Beings of another race might have cursed the accident that had disabled the ship, or regretted the necessity that one of them should die, but the Nipe did neither, for, to him, the first notion would have been foolish and the second incomprehensible.
But now, as the ship fell ever closer toward the yellow-white sun, he began to worry about his own fate. For a while, it had seemed almost certain that he would survive long enough to build a communicator, for the instruments had already told him and his brother that the system ahead was inhabited by creatures of reasoning power, if not true intelligence, and it would almost certainly be possible to get the equipment he needed from them. Now, though, it looked as if the ship would not survive a landing. He had had to steer it away from a great gas giant, which had seriously endangered the power plants.