The Golden Age of Science Fiction Novels Vol 04

by Anthology

  * * * * *

  Val paused to sigh, and then resumed his story. "The voice—I mean the voice of Grim Hagen—promised my people that if they would accept him he would take them forth into the stars. They would plunder thousands of worlds and they would live for centuries while generations died. Also, he said, he was on the brink of discovering eternal life—"

  "He was playing at being the eternal Loki—the old mischief-maker—" Gunnar interrupted and went on edging his sword.

  "Well," Val continued, "I cannot blame my people too much for believing this story. Our plight was desperate. But there were those of us who did not believe him. He seemed to know too much, when according to our philosophy the only wise man is the one who admits that he knows nothing—"

  "I am not a philosopher," Gunnar interrupted again. "I only know that once you have thrust a foot of steel into a man he does not bother you again."

  "Please, Gunnar," Ato begged. "Let Val go on with his story."

  "The rest of the story I do not understand at all," Val said with a shake of his grizzled head. "This Grim Hagen said that he did not age until he stopped to conquer a planet and replenish his ship's energy. It was thirty years ago when he first spoke to us. He looks like a man of forty-five now. Could he have been an upstart of fifteen when he first spoke into our receivers?"

  "I will try to explain that later," Ato answered.

  "Well, there were those of us who could not agree with the general idea. There are even some of the Lorens in the Violet Dome who think he is a god. We think he is an evil man. We have no desire to plunder the stars. If he is so great, why doesn't he give new life to our feeble sun? That is what we really need. Meanwhile, the people of the Dome are building five new ships, as Grim Hagen directed. They have been working upon them for years—"

  "Good God," Jack Odin was thinking, "what a hideous propaganda machine these ships are? To condition and instruct a whole generation while you flash through space in the twinkling of an eye!"

  "And that is all," Val finished with a shrug of his lean shoulders. "Those of us who had never agreed with the idea were thrown out of the city as soon as Grim Hagen arrived. We have come to join forces with you."

  "How did you get through the barrier?" Nea asked.

  Val lifted the umbrella-frame. "We have had the barrier for years. There are strange beasts out there on the plain. This instrument allows us to go through the barrier when we please."

  "Then we can go to the city?" Gunnar exclaimed with a joyful war-whoop. "To kill, and kill, and kill—"

  "You are right," Ato admitted. "Delay will only increase Grim Hagen's advantage. To the city—as fast as we can—"

  Chapter 15

  Val and his men had brought along enough of the umbrella-shaped defenses to get them through the barrier.

  They held a short council of war. It was agreed that every able-bodied man would go into the city. Nea and a few of the older men were detailed to stay by The Nebula and take care of the women and children.

  Nea had screamed and protested against that. She had only agreed to stay upon one condition: That she be left one of the umbrella-skeletons.

  The nights, Odin learned, were about sixteen hours long on this dying planet. It was toward midnight when they started out from the ship toward the violet dome. The strange half-light still hovered over the ground. In the sky, splinters of mauve tore at curtains of purplish flame. Something like northern lights, they glinted and gleamed, wrestled and writhed. There was no peace up there in that abandoned sky. But there was enough of that unearthly light glimmering below for him to watch his footsteps.

  They had brought every kind of weapon that they could lug with them. Atomic machine-guns. Needle-nosed things that spat blobs of flame. Anti-gravitational bombs. Bombs that swirled slowly toward the enemy and cut him down with scythe-blades.

  Gunnar had laughed at that. "Hang on to your sword and knife, Nors-King. We will need them yet."

  With the umbrella frames held over them, as though protecting them from a flood, they went through the barrier. Beyond it, thousands of men rose up from the scarred plain to join them. Val had a much larger following than Odin had ever guessed. These men were swathed in long coats and capes. Similar items of apparel were hastily furnished the crew of The Nebula—for when they were through the barrier the temperature dropped to about thirty. Once they passed through a thin swirl of snow.

  Then something screamed at them out there in the night and came at them like a juggernaut. It must have stood nearly fifty feet high, and came rushing at them on a score of legs, with dozens of eyes flashing green as it hurtled forward.

  The men of Loren were not greatly worried. They began to fire at it with the pistol-shaped weapons. There was only a popping noise, but Odin could hear the bullets smashing into the onrushing thing. Others used the tulip-flared guns, which made no noise at all, but bolts of lightning sank into the sides of the behemoth.

  After it was dead its furious drive sent it nearly a score of yards forward. It slid into a clump of twisted trees and tore them to splinters before it stopped quivering. Finally the way was clear.

  They waited there for a time to see if they had attracted any attention from the city of the violet dome. Nothing happened, so they advanced again. At least five thousand men now made up this little army. Val guessed that there were a hundred thousand fighters left in the city, not counting the experienced ruffians that Grim Hagen had brought with him.

  They had advanced not over half a mile before the pale glow of the night turned to utter darkness. Something that looked like a vast sea-nettle was slowly sinking down toward them from the sky. Its tentacles glowed faintly as it fell—and it must have been a hundred yards across at the top. Once more bullets, lightning bolts and sheets of flame were hurled at the descending thing. It fell apart and came writhing down. Men rushed to get away from the reach of those flailing arms. They laid low and watched while the thing died.

  "Listen," Gunnar warned.

  From far away came the sound of shots and an eerie whine that seemed faintly familiar. The shots died down. The whine continued, louder and louder, almost to the top peak of sound, as though a tiger was growling to itself as it feasted.

  Then all was still.

  "It was from the Old Ship," Gunnar said. "I wonder—"

  But there was no time left to wonder. As the thing died, the phosphor glow faded from its lashing tentacles. Finally it was still. They picked themselves up and went on toward the dome.

  The dome was propped upon miles of forty-foot columns, all carved and decorated like those from the Hall of Kings. Below the dome, the same barrier came pouring down like an unseen waterfall. Again they used their protective umbrella-frames. Then, sweating and cursing and grunting, they hauled their weapons of war into the city.

  * * * * *

  Val the Loren had explained that the city was not a city as Ato and Odin understood the words. Being domed, there was no use for rooms of any kind. The temperature stayed constant. There were wide streets, paved with blocks of pink and black marble. These streets were flanked by sidewalks and walls. At intervals of a hundred feet the huge columns were placed. They were minutely decorated and carved. These supported a silver and clear-plastic framework that held up the violet dome. Looking upward, Odin had the impression that he was standing beneath a vast spider-web.

  There were many hedges, all neatly trimmed. Some resembled privet, but most of them were like pomegranate with larger reddish blossoms that seemed to drip blood.

  * * * * *

  Here and there were railings with steps going down. Like subway entrances, Odin thought, except they were more elaborately carved. These steps went down to tier after tier of labyrinths. It was a skyscraper-city turned upside down, Odin gathered from Val's explanations. The first level below the city was made up of factories and machine shops. The next was where plants, flowers, and trees were forced, producing the city's food. Below that, for nearly a thousand feet, were the
living quarters of the people.

  The ground-level of the city was in reality a beautiful park. During the day, Val explained, it was busy with street-vendors, open-air schools, theaters, and thousands who came up from underground to drink the air and the sun.

  Now, it was nearly empty. The columns were evenly spaced and at a spot exactly between each two columns was a great cresset of stone. At the top of each cresset were flickering flames that burned without leaving any smoke. "Like stone tulips with petals of flame," Gunnar said as he looked at them. They stood nearly twelve feet high. Their pedestals were broad; their stems were nearly a foot thick, nearly a yard across. Their flames were violet, tipped with blue. They made a beautiful sight, but it did not matter. For within less than an hour this lovely park with its carved columns and tulip-shaped cressets of fire was turned into a shambles.

  They had not gone a quarter of a mile before a guard hailed them. A score of guns popped like opened bottles and the guard died before the echo of his voice was gone. But his cry was taken up by others. And now Odin saw that up there in the spider-web framework that held the dome were hundreds of little cubicles—all manned.

  Shafts of flame darted through the dim-lit area. Bullets whizzed. Ato's needle-nosed machines began to whine and the metal in the guards' cubicles grew red-hot and melted. Charred bodies came tumbling down. Men came pouring out of the subway entrances. There was a crashing and grinding as hidden elevators brought weapons of death to the surface. The fires in the cressets danced higher. They fought now in mid-day light.

  There was a blast nearby that nearly burst Odin's eardrums. A crash of flame that half-blinded him. A gun-crew screamed and died as one of the needle-nosed machines melted into puddles of steel. One by one these guns exploded, taking their crews with them. But even as they died, they littered the streets with the bodies of those who were pouring up from the depths of the city. Even as one melted, its needle-nose swung upward and its beam cut through girders as though they were soft cheese. There was an awful grating sound as the heavy dome sagged a few inches. Splinters of glass and plastic rained down upon invader and defender alike.

  Guns burst in men's hands—or turned to soft wax. The machine guns grew red-hot and melted. Ato sent his swirling bombs toward the enemy. The scythe-blades dripped as they cut swaths through massed rows of human flesh. But from far down the street a swarm of red sparks came rushing at the bombs like hornets. They swirled about them, humming angrily. And then the bombs and the hornet-sparks were gone.

  Odin learned that the toadstool-shaped weapon which Val's men carried was a defense against the lancing beams from the glassy tubes. So one by one the weapons of offense and the weapons of defense fell apart. Sirens were screaming within the city. Hordes were still arriving from the depths below.

  Ato had set up a huge, slowly-whirling globe that was studded with spines. As it turned upon its axis, it emitted a strange pulsing light. As the defenders came rushing up the stairways to the upper world, the guns at their belts exploded in furious heat. They died by the hundreds at those entrances. They filled the stairways and the halls below. Screams from seared throats drowned out the noise of battle. The stench of burned flesh and blood was now so heavy that it was hard to breathe. Another wild shell crashed into the spider-web framework of the dome. It sagged again with a shriek and a groan of protest. And once more a rain of glass showered down upon them.

  The defenders cleared the choked stairways and came on—dying at the entrances and falling back and blocking the stairs again.

  * * * * *

  At the last they unbuckled their belts and their weapons and threw them aside. Then they plunged through the entrances in a flood, armed with only knives and clubs.

  Meanwhile, Ato's guns were going out. The last became a white torch when a magnesium blob struck it.

  The side-arms were all gone.

  They fought now with sword and knife.

  Jack Odin felt a heavy hand upon his arm. Gunnar was at his side. "It is even as I foretold you, Nors-King. The weapons are all gone. Stay close by Gunnar's side now. We will fight together, as we fought before. Eh, they are coming up from underground like ants. I think we have lost the advantage. Hagen's dead lie thick, though. And now it is our turn. The old swords and the swinging chant. Ah, Old Blood-Drinker will not be thirsty tonight. Brace yourself. Here comes the first assault."

  And with his huge short legs spread wide apart, Gunnar swung his broadsword. The first wave of attackers went down like ripe wheat. Gunnar and Odin cut their way through them, and came out against a smoking hedge. Behind them, Ato and his Lorens strewed the streets with dead.

  Gunnar and Odin went through a hole in the hedge. A defender was making for it from the other side, and Gunnar broke the man's neck. Clinging to the thin shadow of the hedge they moved forward, killing as they went.

  Chapter 16

  Gunnar and Odin followed the hedge for a long way, until they came out against the far side of the dome. The noise of fighting still continued. It was back of them, but drawing nearer. Odin guessed—or hoped—that Ato and Val were driving the defenders before them.

  They came out upon a lane that was flanked by the beautiful colonnades. Near them was one of the entrances to the tunnels below, and beside it was one of the stone cressets with a high-flaring flame. At the end of the lane was a dais. Upon this dais stood Grim Hagen, shouting instructions to a crew of white-skinned, soldiers below him who were trying to set up a strange machine. It looked like a model of Saturn balanced upon a tripod. Except that it had three concentric rings about it.

  Grim Hagen's shirt was scorched and tattered. It was falling from his lean shoulders. His face was seamed and lined. The muscles upon his neck stood out in cords. His hair was gray now. His left arm was gashed from elbow to wrist, and blood was dripping down his fingers. He dashed the drops aside as he screamed orders. His black eyes still blazed with that old feral hate, and though the years had wasted him, his hips were still as thin as an Apache's and he looked iron-hard.

  Odin and Gunnar knelt beside the railing that marked the entrance to the tunnels below. Neither Hagen nor his men saw them.

  Gunnar grasped Odin's shoulders and pulled him down. "Listen," he whispered in Odin's ear. "Do you hear anything strange?"

  Odin listened. Above the tumult behind them came that same sound which he had heard out on the plain. A whining, purring sound. The purring of a tiger feeding contentedly.

  Then screams drowned out the whining sound, and Odin wondered if he had not imagined it.

  Nearly a hundred of the defenders came running toward Grim Hagen. They were in mad flight now. Most of them were weaponless. Grim Hagen cursed them, rallied them about him, and urged them to pick up new weapons and fight.

  Now, Ato and Val and another hundred men came charging forward.

  Leaving three men to set up the strange machine, Grim Hagen's trained Aldebaranians met them. They clashed head-on—blade against blade, fist against bone. They held there, like two wrestlers evenly matched. For a moment Grim Hagen's men were forced back. Then some new defenders swarmed out of the side-alleys and joined them. A head was poked up from the stairway below, Gunnar split the man's skull and sent him tumbling down upon some new replacements.

  Now Grim Hagen spied Odin and Gunnar as they advanced to help Ato.

  Standing upon the dais, his face livid with rage, Hagen pointed to them and screamed—as mad as any of the last Caesars who had gone insane from too much power.

  "Look, men of the Lorens," Hagen cried, still pointing. "I will give immortality to the men who bring me those two alive."

  The first two to reach Gunnar and Odin died at the end of Gunnar's and Odin's swords.

  "Your immortality does not last very long, Grim Hagen," Gunnar shouted as he wiped his blade.

  Then another man came up the stairway. Odin killed him and flung him back upon the men who followed.

  But reinforcements were pouring in from other lanes. Grim Hagen an
d his men now numbered over a thousand.

  Seeing Odin and Gunnar, Ato swung his men over against the subway entrance. They rallied there. Grim Hagen's soldiers came at them. Ato, Gunnar, and Odin stood side by side and led the counter-attack that forced them back upon Grim Hagen's strange machine.

  But Hagen's men rallied and drove them back again—almost to the stairway.

  "The next drive will get us," Ato groaned. "Brace yourselves, men."

  * * * * *

  But the next drive did not come. Suddenly a dozen screaming wretches—they could no longer be called soldiers—came running up the street. They joined Grim Hagen's men and gibbered in fear as they pointed back.

  From down there came a sudden burst of music. Odin's heart leaped when he heard it. It was the old song of the Brons. But the lights were burning low back there and as yet he could see nothing.

  Then they came. Nea and Maya, walking side by side. Behind them were half a dozen women, playing fifes and horns. One was carrying a tattered flag. Behind the musicians came a motley crowd. Old women, young women, half-grown children, and dozens of old men. All were armed. And they came forward like the wrack of a surviving army at judgement day.

  Oh, there was something noble about them, and pitiful too. And something terrible. For before them, floating upon the air like bobbing heads were Nea's four fantoms, the Kalis, whining hungrily as they came, their copper hair trailing about them.

  One caught a fugitive as he lagged behind—and he died screaming.

  [Illustration: Grim Hagen's men writhed helplessly in the grip of the Kalis' deadly copper hairs!]

  The Kalis darted this way and that and Grim Hagen's men writhed. Their muscles clenched. Their jaws set as though tetanus had struck them. They slid to the marble street and died.

  And the Kalis laughed and whined and screamed as they fed. Even above their feeding-song and the screams of their victims came the shrill, triumphant cry of Nea urging them on.

  Nor was the rest of Maya's army still. One old Bron who had been a slave of Grim Hagen for too long had found a shotgun among Hagen's treasures and was blasting away. They were armed with everything from staves, blunderbusses, old forty-fours and Sharps rifles to machine guns. They fired and fired. Grim Hagen's men went down. But though dozens of ill-aimed shots were fired at him, Grim Hagen still lived, dodging here and there, rallying his men, and urging his gun-crew to finish setting up that odd weapon.