Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  “You’re hurt,” she said anxiously, “bleeding from your—eye.”

  “Forget it,” Trent said. “I’m all right.” He watched Murdock carefully. “Keep your hands in sight,” he said, “or I’ll save the Tribunal the job of exterminating you.” Murdock’s ponderous fists moved into view on the desk.

  “It’s your show,” he said mockingly. “What happens next? I’m interested in just how you’re going to pull this thing. I’ve got about two hundred guards and employees located here in the building.” He leaned back in the chair, his huge frame relaxed and confident. “It will be a very nice trick, Mr. Trent,” he sneered, “if it works.”

  “It’ll work,” Trent said, “but if it doesn’t you’ll never know it. I told you you couldn’t lick the Federation, Murdock. You can’t lick it because it’s the people. And you can’t lick the people.”

  Before he finished speaking he heard the shouted sounds of excitement outside in the corridor. Then someone was pounding on the outer door.

  “You in there, Boss?” a voice shouted. Murdock smiled.

  “It’s still your show, Mr. Trent.”

  “Philip,” Gail said suddenly, and Trent noticed she used his first name, “there’s a way out I think. Before you came in Murdock was telling me how smart he was with precautions taken for every possibility. Even a quick get-a-way from the tower of the building.”

  “How?” Trent asked. His question was to Murdock.

  “Do I look stupid enough to tell you?” Murdock laughed.

  “How?” Trent repeated, and his voice was low.

  Murdock looked at the electric gun in the battered hand and then at the one deep brown eye in Trent’s impassive face.

  “You would at that,” Murdock said softly. “All right, relax. I have a catapult and a rocket taxi in the tower. But how do you intend to get up there. Wings?”

  “Philip,” Gail said breathlessly, “he said something about a private elatube.”

  “All right,” Trent said, “on your feet.” Murdock shrugged, stood up.

  “I’ll take you up there,” he said, “but you’re piling up a heavy score for me to settle, Trent. I play for keeps and I’m a very poor loser.”

  “Move,” Trent said. He was trying to conserve what strength he had left. His head was still throbbing painfully and his knees were about ready to go.

  MURDOCK’S huge figure lumbered across the room to a smoothly paneled wall. His hands touched its surface and a panel slid back displaying a small elatube car. Murdock stepped in and Trent and Gail followed him. Trent kept the gun at Murdock’s back.

  There were pounding blows being rained against the outside door now and Murdock hesitated momentarily.

  Trent jammed the gun into Murdock’s back.

  Murdock clicked a switch and the doors closed. Then they were shooting upward with bullet-like speed.

  On the tower Murdock stepped out, his jaws clamped together like a vise. A crimson anger stained his features.

  “You won’t get away with this,” he said harshly. His rage seemed to be growing greater as he realized that Trent and the girl were slipping away from him.

  Trent didn’t answer. He fought to keep the gun steady in his hand as he moved to the rocket taxi that was resting in the launch catapult. The catapult was pointed at an opening at the top of the tower. He helped Gail into the rocket ship, turned to Murdock.

  “I’ll see you again,” he said evenly.

  “I’ll see you in hell,” Murdock snarled.

  Trent’s lips smiled.

  “Anywhere you say,” he said.

  Then he climbed into the ship, slammed the heavy steel airlock door behind him and threw the catapult lever . . .

  THE rocket taxi blasted from the tower, straight up, its rocket motors thundering into life. Trent took the controls, swung the ship back downward.

  “There may be time yet,” he said.

  “Oh, I’ve prayed there would be,” Gail said. “There must be. Those women and children and men trusted us. We’ve got to reach Asteroid 13 in time.”

  “We’ve got to get a space transport,” Trent said. “I’m heading for the spaceport now. Everything hangs on what happens there.”

  He shook his head groggily and wished it would stop aching.

  “Philip,” Gail said worriedly, “you’re hurt. Badly. You need attention.”

  “So do those people on 13,” Trent said. “I’m all right.”

  He threw the repulsion lever then as they were nearing the mooring towers of the vast, sprawling Commercial spaceport. Space craft of all description were rocketing in and out of the field range, the flickering sparks drifting from their rocket exhaust like thousands of tiny stars.

  Trent set the nose of the ship in an unoccupied mooring tower, opened the air lock and crawled out on the mooring ramp. He was reaching in to help Gail from the ship when something hard jammed into his back.

  He turned slowly. Three uniformed figures stood before him, guns in their hands.

  “Mr. Murdock visi-phoned us to expect you,” an officer said, stepping forward. He was a handsome, moustached figure, evidently a commander. He smiled. “You didn’t disappoint us, Mr. Trent.”

  “Of course,” Trent said dully, “you take your orders from Murdock.”

  “Of course,” the officer bowed slightly.

  Trent grinned wearily. Damned stupid of him to overlook that angle. Murdock had merely stepped to a visi-phone when they left and that was that.

  “And the lady?” the officer smiled. “She is with you?”

  Trent nodded weakly, turned to the air door of the ship.

  “Reception committee,” he said. “Look your best, Gail.”

  He reached a hand to her and she took it, crawled out of the ship. She stepped onto the ramp and for an instant Trent was between her and the officers. He felt her brush against him, felt something touch his belt and then his gun was ripped from his side.

  “Keep those guns down,” Gail snapped. Her small hand held Trent’s gun, pointed unwaveringly at the trio of dumbfounded officers.

  The officers were caught with their guns lowered. Trent stepped forward swiftly and relieved them of them.

  “Of course,” he said meaningly “you take your orders from Mr. Trent now, don’t you?”

  The commander shrugged helplessly.

  “Of course,” he said gravely.

  Trent laid his hand on Gail’s shoulder for an instant.

  “Very neat,” he said. He handed her another gun and kept two for himself.

  “You got a space transport here?” he asked the commander.

  The commander nodded.

  “What you are doing is very foolish,” he said, “you cannot beat Murdock. He will send fighter craft after and shoot you down in space.”

  “He’ll have to shoot down the Federation fleet if he does,” Trent said quietly. “The Federation is going to chase Murdock right out of the solar system. You fellows who’ve strung along with him are going to be in a nice tight spot inside of forty-eight hours. Now cut the talk. Lead me to that space transport.”

  “Mr. Murdock will follow,” the commander said calmly. “You cannot escape. He is a terrible man to cross. He will find you wherever you hide.”

  “We aren’t going to hide,” Trent snapped. “You can tell Mr. Murdock we’ll be on Asteroid 13. And tell him I said I’ve got a date with him that’s going to be kept.” He shoved the gun into the commander’s belly. “Move,” he barked.

  ASTEROID 13 flashed suddenly into the photographic visi-screen of the mighty space transport ship. Gail closed her eyes and murmured a prayer.

  “It’s still together,” Trent said. “We’ll be mooring in five minutes.”

  For the past two hours, as the transport had flashed through space carrying them to Asteroid 13, they had scarcely spoken a dozen words. One thought had been uppermost in their minds. And now their unspoken question had been answered by the visi-screen. They were not, as yet, too late. />
  Trent set the transport down on the ground of the fenced enclosure for the mooring tower would not accommodate a craft of its size. Gail opened the airlock door and she and Trent climbed out of the ship.

  The miners were thronged three deep about the wire fence and they broke into wild, delirious cries of welcome as they recognized Trent and Gail.

  Trent crossed to the door of the fence and burned the lock off with a blast from his electric gun.

  “Where’s Hawkett?” he said to the first miner, “and where’re the guards?”

  “They left ’bout a half hour ago,” the miner said. “Deserted us just like rats they be. Knew 13 was about ready to go and they wasn’t takin’ no chances.”

  Trent heard an ominous rumbling beneath his feet. The flaky soil of 13 was quivering and shaking like dry leaves in a breeze.

  “All right,” he ordered. “Everyone into the transport. Don’t delay for anything. 13 won’t be here much longer. The internal pressure has quadrupled since I was here fourteen hours ago.”

  For ten minutes the families of Asteroid 13 filed into the transport, their faces mirroring their gratitude and happiness. At last the long line had filed into the interior of the ship.

  “All aboard,” yelled Trent.

  “Trent!” Gail cried. “Look.”

  She was pointing into space, toward Venus.

  Trent followed the direction of her hand and saw two tiny specks moving toward 13.

  “Murdock’s fighters,” he muttered. “They’ll blast the transport out of space. With their speed and atomic cannons we wouldn’t have a chance.” He stared at the onrushing specks for an instant, then wheeled to Gail. “Get in,” he ordered, “there’s just one chance.”

  HE followed her into the ship, ran to the control boards, set the controls on dead center for Earth. Then he released the one minute rocket charges.

  “In one minute,” he yelled to the miners, “the transport takes off. The controls are set for Earth. Happy landings.”

  Then he stepped to the airlock door and jumped to the ground.

  “Trent,” Gail cried. “What are you going to do?”

  “I can hold Murdock up here for a while. Give the transport a chance to get away. They won’t see it leave, for the transport is leaving on the opposite side of 13. Maybe if they get me they won’t bother about the transport.” He looked up at Gail’s anxious face and winked his good eye. “Don’t worry, honey. I might have fallen in love with you if I’d seen much more of you.”

  He started to turn away then, but he wheeled back as Gail leaped to the ground beside him.

  “I’m staying,” she said.

  “Are you crazy?” he shouted. “Get back in that ship.”

  She shook her head, “I’m staying with you.”

  The huge ship was trembling.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he yelled.

  “I know perfectly what I’m doing,” she answered.

  The transport trembled like a live thing and then, with a hissing roar of power from its rocket exhausts, it blasted away into space, winging its way toward earth like a mighty silver arrow.

  Trent groaned. Then he looked up at the approaching ships.

  “If we get out of this,” he said grimly, “I’ll have something to say to you. But now,” he glanced at the ships gliding swiftly into 13’s atmosphere, “it looks as if we never will.”

  The ships were within two hundred yards of the mooring tower when Gail said:

  “Philip, listen to me.” Her voice was as excited as charged water. “The lids, the shaft lids, the fire, the gas. Won’t it work?”

  Trent stared at her as if she had suddenly gone mad. He looked at the shaft lids, steam seeping from their gaskets, and then his eye swung back to the ominously settling ships.

  “I get it,” he said. “It’s wild, hopeless, crazy, but it’s a chance.”

  He charged into the chromealloy office then, dashed to the switchboard.

  “You know ’em, honey,” he said, “you pull the trigger.”

  Gail stepped to the board, peered over her shoulders at the ships and then swung back to the switchboard. Her eyes were bright with excitement and her cheeks flamed with hope. She waited for the space of two fast heartbeats and then threw two switches.

  Trent was watching. Two shaft lids flew back, a hissing geyser of steam and flames screamed into the air completely enveloping the settling ships with a shroud of scorching flames. Trent knew that the Pelyisium alloy would not melt but it would heat. It would glow red transforming the interior of Murdock’s ships into inhuman infernos.

  The ship veered suddenly to the right, dodging the flames.

  “Right,” Trent called.

  Gail threw four more switches. Four more mighty gushers of white flames shot into the bellies of the ships, cloaking them completely in live flame.

  The ship was out of control! It sideslipped and crashed into the ground, breaking several lids with its weight. A mighty tongue of flame licked out about the ship, roaring hungrily at its metal sides in a savage holocaust of heat and fire.

  ASTEROID 13 was trembling visibly and Trent could feel mighty smashing repercussions beneath his feet. The furniture in the office was bouncing and rattling as the tremendous sledge hammer blows slammed against the crust of 13.

  “Trent,” Gail cried suddenly. “The other ship!”

  Trent wheeled and saw that the other ship had landed. It had managed to swing away from the flames and settle into the fenced-in enclosure. The air lock door swung open violently and the huge figure of Big Bill Murdock stumbled out onto the ground. His grotesquely large head was seared a cruel red and his hair and eyebrows had been singed to the skull. His mad, pain-crazed eyes glared wildly about until he saw Trent.

  “You did it,” he screamed. “Killed my men, broke up my outfit, and now roasted me like a damned pig.” His black little eyes glittered with savage satisfaction. “I said I’d see you in hell and here we are.” His hand rose. The gun pointed straight at Trent. “You thought you could beat—” Trent charged him. The first pellet tore across his arm scorching his flesh, the next ripped through his hair. And then his shoulder slammed into Murdock’s wide stomach knocking the big man to the ground.

  Murdock climbed to his feet. Trent moved in, his right swinging down like a cleaver. Murdock sprawled to the earth, bellowing with a with maniacal rage. He climbed back to his feet, his eyes gleaming insanely, Trent thought of the children the man had left to die on 13 and stepped in again, his right swinging like an axe. Murdock dropped again, crashing into the side of the chromealloy office.

  Trent felt Gail tugging at his arm. He felt the ground beneath his feet heaving and undulating like an ocean swell.

  Murdock crawled to his feet and his piggish eyes focused on the switchboard in the office. With one leap he was into the office, his huge fist closing over the master switch that operated all of the shaft lids.

  “We’ll go together,” he screamed. A white foam coated his lips. “Releasing all of the lids together will blow 13 to the ends of space.”

  His hands tense and Trent leaped—toward Gail. His good arm circled her waist, jerking her toward Murdock’s space ship. He could hear Murdock laughing wildly behind him and he could hear the rumbling thunder of the ground as it rose and fell, like a mighty animal threshing in death throes.

  He hurled Gail into the ship, leaped in after her. The airlock door slammed. Then a tremendous roaring detonation sounded and Trent had one panoramic port hole view of a thousand tongues of flame screaming into the air, before a mighty force seized the ship and hurled it into space.

  When he righted the ship and set the controls toward Earth, he peered out the port hole. By that time it was all over. Asteroid 13 had disappeared with the eruption that had destroyed it.

  Trent looked into Gail’s deep eyes and his arm slipped around her shoulders.

  “That’s all,” he said quietly. “It’s all through.”

  �
��All through?” Gail repeated. “Everything?”

  Trent looked down at her and smiled.

  “No,” he said, “there’s one thing that’s just started.”

  He bent down then and kissed her.

  [*] A ‘sequel’ of a sorts to this story, can be found here.

  DICTAGRAPHS OF DEATH

  First published in the May 1941 issue of Amazing Stories.

  When Mr. Wu said “Do not meddle,” he meant it. But to a reporter, missing scientists and the Defense Program are hot news . . .

  CHAPTER I

  MY City Editor and two copy boys were breathing down my neck by the time I pounded out the last line of the story. I ripped the page from the typewriter, tossed it on the desk, and then leaned back in my chair and watched Joe Kirkland—the toughest editor in Manhattan—rake his eyes over the copy before shoving it at one of the nervous copy trotters.

  “Move!” he snapped, and I knew the copy was good. It had to be good to get by Joe without revision.

  “I’m going to be gone about two days,” I said.

  “Now don’t be that way, Jim,” Joe said quickly, “I’m going to need you around here. This is not the time to be starting out on a tear—”

  “Nuts,” I said, louder than I meant to. “I’ve worked for twenty-two hours straight on that blamed story and I need a rest. Anyway, nothing’s due to break for a while. Professor Engles has been kidnaped, okay. But there won’t be anything on the story now until a ransom demand is submitted to his family.”

  “There may not be any ransom demands,” Joe said, fumbling for a smoke. “This is no ordinary snatch job. Professor Engles was working with the Defense Commission on some very important dope. He hasn’t a dime of money himself. So why the kidnaping?”

  “Okay,” I said, “so why?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping you’ll get to work on,” Joe said.

  “I will,” I said.