Complete Fiction

by Hal Annas

  Time fled. And then she was shocked alert by bitter cold. She was on the snow mesa.

  Wasting no time, she hurried along the passage, broke the beam on the right and the three invisible beams on the left.

  As she stepped through the doorway into warmth she heard something like thunder. The floor beneath her feet shuddered.

  Something like compressed air roared through the chambers.

  No storm, as far as she knew, had ever visited this part of the planet. Nothing but electrical disturbances.

  Then she remembered. Her last sight of the cosmograph showed the Earth fleet moving in in attack formation. It seemed impossible that it could, in these short hours, be striking the Eg planet. It seemed outrageous that it would attack the neutral planet under any circumstances.

  True, there had been nineteen Novakkan ships on the plain. But the Egs were powerless to keep them away.

  The shuddering and roaring went on. Great gusts of air almost tore her clothes off. She could hardly keep on her feet.

  And then she heard other sounds, even more ominous, sounds of clashing steel, men in mortal combat. They seemed to come from many directions, and they meant that men were in the corridors fighting hand-to-hand.

  In desperation she hurried to the blank wall, broke the beams, then remembered that a full cycle must pass before the panels would open. She had set the controls that way before returning to the inward planet.

  The corridors rang with the dashing of steel. At times she saw flashes, which meant rays were in use. The danger was great. Rays could bring down a wall, crush defenders and attackers alike, seal them as in a tomb.

  But who could be attacking and who defending?

  The question startled her. What was left of the populace might have taken refuge in the corridors. But surely Earthmen would not attack the populace. Who, then?

  She had no refuge, no place that was safe. And it was certain that she couldn’t get out to Ernest Vardon. So long as there was fighting in the corridors she could do nothing.

  She was hopelessly trapped by a lock that required rays from both suns to open it, and a battle to the death moving toward her along the corridors.

  One hand dropped to the haft of the blade Nyuk had worn; the other caressed the photon gun.

  Without waiting for the battle to come to her, she moved cautiously toward the nearest clamoring. Nearly half an hour elapsed before she saw a live person. He was so huge he was unmistakably Novakkan even in the dim light. She aimed the gun, held it steady, but didn’t fire.

  He staggered against the wall, gradually slumped. He tried to get up but couldn’t. She kneeled beside him, lifted his head.

  “Water,” he mumbled. Then: “Great fight. On along the passage. We’re killing three to one. Hurry or you’ll miss it.”

  Even with his last breath he could still say fighting was great. The thought was alien to Aleta. She wondered if it was something born in men that only evolution could change.

  He was dead when she left and again went toward the sound. She saw two more Novakkans, one flat on his face, the other on his knees trying to drag the other along the floor. They were both mortally wounded.

  Instead of asking for help the one on his knees pointed toward the clamoring and said. “That way. Hurry!”

  In their dazed condition, she realized, they took her for a friend.

  She came to a slight decline lighted by distant flashes. She saw small groups of Novakkans pressing against the walls, lying on the floor, in various positions, all facing the flashes in the distance. Nearer the flashes were still other groups, and at one point was a jumble of confusion, men struggling at close quarters.

  She could make little out of it. The confusion was too great. She could get no idea who the Novakkans were fighting.

  And then behind her, at a cross passage, she heard a sudden roaring. As she turned she saw flashes, then Novakkans backing slowly toward her.

  And then, for the first time, she heard the shouting and yelling of Earthmen. Their voices were unmistakable. It sent a tremor of both fear and nostalgia through her. They were driving the Novakkans before them—at what cost! As she watched she saw the Novakkans make a counterthrust and isolate a score of Earthmen and then cut them to pieces.

  It was madness incarnate.

  The Earthmen rallied and drove on. The Novakkans continued falling back toward her.

  And from the other direction likewise.

  It was then that she realized that what she’d first seen, in that confused tangle, had been identical with the strategy of the second. The Novakkans gave ground, then thrust and isolated a few Earthmen, cut them down and again gave ground-

  That they were outnumbered was obvious. But, fighters all, they were taking a terrific toll.

  The end, of course, she realized, would be about where she stood. The Novakkans would finally be grouped, with Earthmen on both sides.

  Then the third stage of confusion began.

  Both groups were almost on her. Mortally wounded Novakkans staggered back, fell at her feet. And even Earthmen, cut off from their forces, became confused and moved in the wrong direction.

  She kneeled beside one Earth youth until he died.

  Aside from Ernest Vardon and the derelicts on the Eg planet, it was the first time she’d seen an Earthmen since she was taken, so long ago, from the lifeship by Novakkans.

  So much had happened since then. In a sort of daze she wondered how it would have been if she had married one of these clean-limbed youths and remained on Earth. The thought hurt. She discovered that she was crying.

  And all about her was roaring confusion, the clashing of steel, the flashing of rays, the howls and shrieks of men killing and dying.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  BUT the big confusion came from the direction along which she had come. The shrieking be came high-pitched, almost a hopeless wail. Something terrible had happened there. The Novakkans were no longer giving ground. Nor were the Earthmen retreating.

  In a moment Aleta knew why. In falling back into the cross corridor the Novakkans had led the Earthmen into a trap. A second force of Novakkans had moved along the dim passages and struck them from the rear.

  It was as if all the demons of hell were howling.

  The battering of steel, the shrieks, the screaming, the swearing, the stench of blood and sweat and excrement, the flashing of rays, the gasping for a final breath, the groaning and straining to drive a point through bone and flesh, to split a head, to break a limb, to deal death before it was dealt, all added up to a roaring of confusion and a nightmare of horror.

  Out of that melee of madness men staggered, Novakkan and Earthmen alike, bones broken, blood gushing out, eyes gone, bellies laid open to the spine, flesh cooked through and through, limbs gone or hanging limp; staggered, fell and crawled. Novakkan and Earthmen, side by side, staring vacantly at one another, gasping for breath, choking on blood, no longer hating—just dying.

  Novakkan and Earthmen, they piled up in mounds.

  But from the other direction the Novakkans continued falling back.

  How long!

  Aleta was spared the measurement of time. It may have lasted minutes or hours. It seemed forever until she ceased to think. The horror of it compelled her to make her mind blank, and time went on.

  And then it was over and she was suddenly snatched to her feel by a Novakkan and a blade stopped just shore of decapitating her.

  The Novakkan growled something, then spoke in a language she understood. “The clothes fit the description.” He turned to another Novakkan. “This may be the one Rahn Buskner wants.

  She was led, half-dragged over the mounds of dead and dying, to the cross passage, along it, on along other passages, and finally pushed into a chamber where a score of Novakkans were sprawled on the floor, nursing their wounds, eating and drinking.

  “For Rahn Buskner,” the Novakkan said and departed.

  The others glanced at her and one said, “You Earthmen put up
a good fight, but you never know what it’s all about. We lured you to this planet and while you’re battering it our raiders are looting the ships carrying the reparation settlements between the SYZ System and Sol. They may even have time to plunder a few planets before your fleet gets back.”

  Aleta had suspected as much, but the actual news brought a shock. “Then you Novakkans must have spread the rumor that you had ships behind the dead star?”

  The Novakkans roared with laughter. “We have one of the finest little tricks on our side in the galaxy. Earthgirl named Aleta. She herself got word to the Council.”

  Aleta slumped. No blow to herself, physical or mental, could have been more crushing. Unwittingly she had betrayed Earth. She wanted now to die.

  “If we don’t do it one way we do it another,” the Novakkan went on. “We got word to them in a dozen ways, from the SYZ System, from the outer Eg planets, from the planets in Sol. But they intended to batter the Eg planets anyway. That’s what brought their war with the colonies to an end. So long as they were fighting they couldn’t spare a fleet. Now they’ll unite. And our raids are nothing compared to the waste of war. In the end they will win, but you won’t be alive. Rahn Buskner will have you strung up by the heels and dismembered slowly.”

  The threat left Aleta unmoved. She no longer cared what happened to her. Sometime, somewhere the use of force would be stopped and men would settle things by way of reason. If she lived—

  Rahn Buskner came in. New scars showed on his face. His clothes were cut and burned to tatters.

  He glanced at her, then called the others about him.

  “We can’t last another cycle,” he said. “They number too many. They’re closing up the passages. Our ships have already been put out of commission. But a few of us may live. At the beginning of the next twilight well try to break out and capture one of their ships. Here’s the plan—”

  He was interrupted by a man who staggered in supporting two wounded.

  “They offer a truce,” the new arrival said. “They want to exchange prisoners and remove their dead. It will give us time which we need.”

  The others nodded. Rahn Buskner said, “Try to get a coordinated truce in all passages at once. Watch for treachery. We haven’t any prisoners and when they realize it they’ll feel free to attack again.”

  Somebody gestured toward Aleta. Rahn Buskner moved to her side and tore off the turban. “I’ve lost men today,” he said, “because they were ordered not to kill anyone of your description. Some were hesitant and they died as a result.”

  “Is that the girl Aleta?” another asked. “A message from the Earthmen asked about her. A commander named Norwich Wyatt—”

  Aleta’s heart stopped beating. She ceased to breathe. A moment passed and then she realized that Rahn Buskner was supporting her.

  “A one-legged Earthman is also interested,” the man went on. “An enormous ransom has been offered to induce us not to harm her. The one-legged man will negotiate and bring Wyatt to identify her.”

  Rahn Buskner’s scowl was black. “The girl is mine. I bought her and I won her in a fight. If the Earthmen take her I will follow to the end of the galaxy and retake her. Not even Novakkans may take her from me while I can use a ray or wield a blade.”

  The messenger turned to depart.

  “Wait!” Aleta cried. She looked at Rahn Buskner. “If I promise to return, will you send me to the Earthmen and allow me to arrange a truce?”

  Rahn Buskner stirred uneasily. Though he’d tricked her and used her, and given her cause to hate him, she couldn’t recall that he’d ever refused her a request. He was always gruff, but he’d never actually spoken harshly to her or raised a hand in harm. She’d seen him kill a man for plucking at her sleeve. She’d seen another die at his hands for his unwelcome advances. She’d seen the black looks on his features that spelled death whenever she was mistreated. But he was a man of contradictions. He’d allowed Ernest Vardon to live simply because she asked it. Now she waited for his answer.

  “Go to the Earthman Wyatt,” he said. “If you do not come back I will come for you.”

  The meeting was arranged in a broad neutral passage where the forces of each side had been drawn back. She had neither time nor opportunity to make herself presentable.

  As she approached, in her masculine garments, her legs trembled.

  Wyatt was tall and straight and almost startlingly handsome. He wore numerous ribbons and decorations. He was spic-and-span and had no scars showing. It was as if he were meeting her in a drawing-room.

  She didn’t look much like the girl he had held in his arms on the day she boarded the refugee ship with her heart singing. She was heavier, stronger, and the burden she carried in her body was beginning to be noticeable. Her hands were rough, her blonde hair uncombed, her features untouched with make-up. The blade at her side was as familiar as her garments. The photon gun fitted snugly into her hand and no longer wavered when she aimed it. She had passed among fighting men as a man. She wondered how Norwich Wyatt would see her now.

  And then, suddenly, it didn’t matter. He was not as broad as she remembered him, or as tall. He was easily six-feet, but so long had she seen Novakkans that ordinary men looked small. And somehow Wyatt and Ernest Vardon had become confused in her mind.

  They had both needed her. Standing side by side, they still looked as if they needed her.

  “I’m sorry, Aleta,” Wyatt said. “No survivors were reported from the refugee ship and I thought you were dead. I tried marriage but it didn’t work out. When word came through the Council that you were out here I put in a request to come. Now I’ve pledged all my property and Dave’s and Mae’s and, yes, yours as a ransom. We’ll go back and begin over.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t buy me back, Norwich.” She hesitated. “The only way is to take me by force. Can you do it?”

  His shoulders stiffened. It was apparent that he understood what she meant. “We’ll rid this planet of Novakkans,” he said. “Then you’ll be free.”

  “Free, Norwich?”

  His features grew darker. She had no doubt that he understood the size of the task ahead of him. His forehead creased into lines of thought, “Aleta,” he said almost pleadingly, “well step between you and the Novakkans. You owe them nothing. Run to our lines. We’ll get you safely back to Earth.”

  There was no hesitation about her reply. “If I’m not back with the Novakkans at the appointed time,” she said, “at least one man will come for me, if he has to wade through the blood of your entire force.

  “Go back to Earth, Norwich. Hurry! The Novakkans are even now raiding the ships in the spaceways between SYZ and Sol. They’ll plunder the planets if the fleet doesn’t return soon. Go, Norwich. Don’t think again of the girl who once loved you.”

  She walked away quickly and realized that her face was wet with tears. She was alone. She had burned her bridge. She might never return to Earth, but what she had done was the least amends she could make for her unwitting betrayal of her native planet. And they could soon confirm her information by breaking communication silence.

  She told Rahn Buskner, “I think they’ll go away. If not, and if we can hold out until the end of the cycle, we can reach the inner planet.”

  “We?” he repeated. Then his great arm came about her. It was the first time she had ever known him to show tenderness and affection.

  Six weeks later he said, “They’ve hammered at the planet of exile so much that we’ve abandoned it and scattered bases throughout the galaxy. I know one far off the spaceways, but still close enough to provide good looting. We’ll go there, and if you like it I’ll bring artisans and build a castle.”

  She moved her heavy body sluggishly. “Will we reach there in time?”

  “In the cruiser, easy. And it’s inhabited by a golden-hued race, lighter than I am, darker than you, a lot like the Golgons but more advanced. They have fine doctors, tutors and elementary scientists. They welcome the wealth we
bring in. A fitting place to rear children.”

  * * *

  After Aline was born he held her in the palm of his huge hand and stared at the auburn fuzz on her head. “She doesn’t look like me,” he said wryly, “but I’m willing to bet the next one will.”

  Aleta had made no effort to deceive him about the child and he accepted it with the wholehearted hunger of a lusty man who, having seen everything else in the galaxy, was deeply moved by the miracle of birth.

  The second one was born while he was away. It was a boy and nearly seven weeks old when he returned loaded with spoils. Aleta had waited for him to name it.

  He used both hands to lift it, then looked at the redhaired tot who had learned to walk while he was gone.

  They were both enormously healthy and lively.

  “True Novakkans,” he said. “Someday we’ll give them a whole planet from which to plunder the galaxy. Call him Moxol. In Novakkan it means relentless avenger.”

  Aleta smiled, but reserved her reply. She was thinking of the two laboratories in the Eg System and the education she meant to give the children.

  END OF BOOK ONE

  Author’s note—

  SYZ—S: Survival; all the factors in the system contributing to survival; Y, yield; all the potential energy in the system capable of conversion; Z, non-survival; all the negative factors in the system.

  Eg—One or the beginning; this race may have come from Egypt.

  Daughter of Doom

  BOOK II

  RECKONING FROM ETERNITY

  ALETA: Novakkan prisoner whose decision to join her captors barred her forever from her native planet, Earth.

  RAHN BUSKNER: Novakkan giant who captured Aleta, and then won her heart; who has sworn to avenge her though he must fight his way across a galaxy to do so.