Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

Ward paused only to make sure of his directions, then he ran through the darkness, toward the main cluster of buildings. He wasn’t sure the space transmitter would be there, but there wasn’t time to reconnoiter or proceed cautiously. His escape would be known to every person on the planetoid in a matter of minutes, and he had to make those minutes count.

  When he reached the narrow rutted pathway that led directly to the heart of the small village, he slowed to a walk. In a few moments the bulk of the somewhat larger building which served as headquarters to the inhabitants of the planetoid loomed before him.

  Moving cautiously, he crept forward. He heard no voices and saw no evidence of any of its inhabitants. At the door of the wooden structure he paused. There was something unnatural and worrisome in this quietness.

  For another few seconds he hesitated. He glanced over his shoulder, probing the blackness anxiously, then he opened the door a cautious inch.

  The interior of the room was lighted by a single lamp which threw grotesque shadows over the barren furnishings. There was only one person in the room as far as he could see.

  DIRECTLY in line with the small angle of vision afforded him by the narrow opening of the door was Ann Lear. He could only see her profile, but the anxiety in her expression was unmistakable.

  The soft glow of the room’s single light transformed her blonde hair into a golden halo, and in her snug breeches and absurdly small boots, she looked so small and helpless that for an instant Ward felt his old feeling for her creeping over him.

  Then his jaw hardened. Memory can be almost as bitter as it can be pleasant. And Ward was remembering now that this girl had failed to trust him, or believe in him, when he desperately needed her confidence.

  Also, her arrival here had plunged him into the dangerous predicament he was now in. Her motive in following him to Exile Planetoid was fathomless to him. Maybe her intentions had been good, but the results had certainly been disastrous. In her foolish desire to help him was a parallel of her campaign to liberate the mad war dogs in Exile Planetoid. An altruistic, sentimental idea which, if realized, could result only in disaster.

  As he crouched in the darkness at the door Ward was forced to realize that in spite of all, that this girl and he were the only force that might stand between the barbarians of Exile Planetoid and Earth.

  He had to make her listen and believe him. If he failed now to convince her of the potential menace on Exile Planetoid, it might be calamitous to all the blind billions of Earth.

  With another glance over his shoulder he opened the door, slipped into the door and shoved it shut. Standing with his back pressed to the door, he made a gesture for silence, as Ann sprang to her feet, startled, her eyes widening incredulously.

  “Oh, Ward,” she said breathlessly, “I—I can’t believe it. They did release you, after all. I’ve been hating myself ever since they took you away. But now I know everything will be all right.”

  “They didn’t release me,” Ward said. His eyes flicked about the room as he spoke. “I killed two guards to get here.”

  ANN’S small delicate features paled and one hand moved instinctively to her heart.

  “Ward, you don’t know what you’re saying,” she said, in almost a whisper.

  He smiled mirthlessly, his eyes like hot points of dry flame.

  “I’m sorry you’re shocked,” he said, his voice rough and bitter.

  Her wide eyes met his unbelievingly. There was fear and anxiety and horror in her gaze.

  “You are a beast,” she said, whispering the words.

  “Sure,” Ward said savagely, “I’m everything you think and probably worse. I’ve killed two people and I have no regrets. That fact isn’t important now. What is important is that serious trouble is brewing here on Exile Planetoid. Somewhere on this planetoid is a space transmitter. I’ve got to find it and warn Earth. On my own I haven’t much of a chance, but you can help me, if you will.”

  Ann made a gesture of helpless misery with her hand.

  “Ward, you’re so saturated with bitterness now that you aren’t thinking straight. How could these poor helpless people possibly be a menace to Earth? You’ve let your feelings run away with your common sense. You’ve even let your hatred drive you to murder. Stop, please stop, while there’s still some chance for you.”

  Ward’s jaw set grimly. Striding across the room he grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly.

  “I don’t want sermons, damn it,” he grated, “I want cooperation.”

  He released her then slowly, knowing intuitively that his bull-headed anger had destroyed whatever slim chance there might have been of enlisting her aid.

  THERE were twin points of red in the girl’s cheeks as she backed slightly from him. She was angry, but beneath her anger there was a pitying contempt.

  “Why should I help you?” she asked quietly. “Do you imagine that I want a part in your insane, murderous plans? At one time, Ward, I would have done anything you asked me, but now I wouldn’t assist you if your life depended on it.”

  Ward felt a rising panic that was impossible to quell. Something in the quiet, almost fatalistic determination of her voice chilled him. It wasn’t his own fate alone that would be decided by her attitude, but possibly the fate of Earth, itself.

  “Ann,” he said desperately, “anything I might ask you to do is not for myself, please believe that. It’s because the happiness, maybe the lives, of millions of people, might hang on what happens here in the next few minutes, that I’m asking you to help me. If you have contempt for me, I’m sorry, but that shouldn’t prevent you from listening to me, especially since the issue is so terribly important.”

  SOMETHING in the burning sincerity of his voice held her interest. “E—everything is so mixed up,” she said, her voice faltering, “that nothing makes sense. What you’re doing is wrong, it can’t possibly be right, but I feel as if I should help you if I can. Ward, is it possible for a person to trust another person, and still not believe in what that person does?”

  Ward shook his head.

  “It’s all or nothing in my book,” he said. “If you mean you trust me, but not what I say and believe, you don’t make sense.”

  He shot an anxious glance at the door. Ann was weakening, but while they were quibbling precious time was slipping inexorably past.

  “We haven’t time to waste on philosophy,” he said. “It’s got to be one thing or another, with me or against me. Will you help?”

  He waited tensely for her answer, every muscle of his body tight with impatience. She pressed her hands close to her temples and bowed her head.

  When she looked up at him her face was weary with the struggle within herself. She made a useless, helpless gesture with her hand and her slight shoulders slumped as if a heavy physical weight was resting there.

  She said, “‘I can’t make—”

  The sentence was never finished. A hoarse shout from without drowned out her words. The single door of the room banged open and the arrogant bulk of Baron Von Multke filled the doorway.

  His square, stolid face was flushed with triumph, and his cold, blue eyes flashed haughtily as they flicked from the girl to Ward.

  A mirthless grin touched his lips and his big shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  “So,” he sneered, “the troublesome bird has tired of his cage already, eh?”

  CHAPTER VI

  Into the Void!

  WARD had wheeled at the first sound of the baron’s entrance, and now he crouched motionless, his thoughts boiling hotly.

  One advantage was his and it was not apparent to anyone in the room, even to himself. When he had broke from the crude room he had determined to act—directly, savagely, without reckoning the odds or the cost.

  That determination was still with him.

  The baron was relaxed and lazily confident, savoring to the full his moment of triumph. He dominated the scene enjoying hugely the feeling of power and ruthlessness that the young Earth officer’s
helplessness afforded him. Helpless—there was no doubt of that. A dozen men were within sound of his voice, the Earth officer was trapped like a rat in a trap.

  These thoughts were an elixir to his brain as he swaggered into the room bestowing a smirking glance at Ann’s pale, terrified face.

  He had no way of knowing that Ward’s wary eyes had been watching for just such a chance. In that brief second while the baron was smirking at Ann, his attention was diverted from Ward.

  And in that brief second Ward acted—directly, savagely, oblivious to cost or odds.

  His lean, whip-cord muscles coiled like powerful springs and he launched himself at the baron. He dove low, twisting in mid-air to bring his hard, flat hip into the baron’s knees.

  The baron turned, but not soon enough. Ward’s hard driving body swept under him with savage force, dumping him to the floor in a sprawling breathless tangle.

  Ward rolled to his feet with the momentum of his drive and lunged for the open door. Behind him he heard the baron bellowing like an outraged bull as he clambered awkwardly to his feet.

  Then Ward was outside in the darkness.

  He heard shouted voices and heard footsteps drumming toward the building he had just left. Without a second’s pause he set out at a hard driving run in the opposite direction.

  The narrow street was almost pitch-dark and twice in twenty feet Ward sprawled to the hard ground as his foot turned in a rut or hole.

  A desperate glance over his shoulder revealed a milling crowd of men at the door of the building and in the center of the crowd he could make out the baron’s huge figure, and hear his shouted commands.

  WARD redoubled his speed, but it was that very fact that almost cost him his life. His footsteps drummed loudly against the solid ground and the sound must have carried back to the baron, for Ward suddenly heard him curse wildly at the men huddled about him, and the next instant a dozen of them broke away from the crowd and started in the direction he had taken.

  Ward was only a hundred feet or so ahead of them, but they knew every inch of the terrain and he was running blindly.

  Suddenly the pursuers stopped and Ward drove on.

  An instant later a cry sounded from the pack and they were after him again. Ward realized then that they had stopped in order to listen to his foot-beats, and determine his direction accordingly.

  In the darkness he could tell they were gaining on him by the increased volume of their excited shouts. Desperately he struck off at a right angle to the original direction he’d taken, and for a moment or so he ran at full speed.

  He was listening carefully now for the drumming feet of his pursuers and when they stopped suddenly, he stopped too, crouching silently still in the blackness. A minute passed.

  From off to his right he heard a disappointed murmur from the pack that had been on his trail.

  He waited motionlessly until he heard their footsteps again, this time fading in another direction.

  For several minutes he remained motionless in the deep blackness, but he realized that when light again streamed over this planetoid his liberty would be at end. So, probably, would his life.

  Cautiously he started walking. He knew that only a dozen or so square miles of Exile Planetoid were habitable and he wanted to get as far as possible from the central village while the darkness lasted. Possibly in one of the arid, desolate stretches of the planetoid he could find a haven where he could hide during the long day.

  He had not progressed a dozen feet, walking carefully and lightly, when he heard footsteps to his right—dangerously close.

  Crouching, he held his breath.

  The footsteps approached warily and then he saw the vague bulky outlines of a man moving through the darkness. Ward crouched closer to the ground as he saw that the man’s course would lead him within three feet of his position.

  It was too close for comfort. Too close for safety.

  Ward acted again with savage directness when the squat man passed. Rising to his feet he stepped stealthily after him.

  The stocky half-breed knew only one sensation when the steel-hard, mercilessly strong forearm suddenly locked around his neck. That sensation was a horrible gasping struggle for breath that never came.

  WHEN the quiet struggle was over Ward stretched the man on the ground, but as he started away his foot struck a hard, metallic object lying next to the dead man.

  Stooping he picked it up. As his fingers touched its cold hard surface an involuntary shock went through him. Even in the darkness he knew what he held in his hands.

  It was a weapon, a deadly electric arc gun, the type used by the fighting forces of Earth. Ward had handled them thousands of times, and even in the blackness there could be no mistake in his identification.

  A cold feeling of dread struck him forcibly.

  A gun of this type on Exile Planetoid, in the hands of a brutish breed native, confirmed his darkest suspicions. The self-appointed leaders of Exile Planetoid had discovered a way to secure arms and other forbidden equipment. This might have been going on for years, Ward knew.

  Slipping the electric arc gun into his belt, he continued on, walking swiftly to take advantage of every fleeting second of darkness. In ten minutes he had traveled over a mile and the sounds of pursuit had died out completely.

  A purple dawn was breaking twenty minutes later. Ward was far enough by then from the central cluster of structures to be out of sight. The bulge of the planetoid’s outer crust was between him and the living section of the tiny village.

  He was in a ragged, rutted terrain, devoid of vegetation, starkly bare and primitive. The flaky porous rock of a pale green color which comprised the surface of the planetoid was split into deep gashes by erosion. These valleys were almost uniformly symmetrical and at least a dozen of them stretched before him.

  They seemed to present the only logical hiding place on the planetoid. Here he might wait for another stretch of darkness to provide him the opportunity to continue his search for the space transmitter. He was hungry and thirsty but that he would have to endure.

  The gashes in the crust of the planetoid were almost ten feet deep and they extended in each direction, following the curve of the planetoid.

  The purple dawn was merging into bright revealing daylight. Without wasting any more time Ward scrambled down the steep sides of the nearest gully.

  The erosion-formed gash was almost six feet wide and the bottom was nearly level. Ward realized that in his present position he would be perfectly visible to anyone from the rim of the valley.

  He started walking then following the curve of the gulley, looking carefully for some crevice or niche that might afford a place of concealment.

  SEVERAL minutes later, as he was rounding an unusually sharp bend of the curving gulley, he saw a strange contraption directly ahead of him.

  It was some sort of vehicle, about twenty feet long and four feet wide, made of some strange metallic material that was rusted and scarred from age and use. It looked somewhat like a tiny submarine. There was a heavy glass window in the front of the dilapidated machine, and it had flaring fins at the tail, warped and cracked from the damp climate.

  In the rear were four blackened, blistered tubes, much like the rocket tubes on a standard space ship.

  It was this feature that tripped a forgotten cog in Ward’s memory. He recalled now, looking at this odd deserted contraption, that the exiles on the planetoid had been granted permission years ago to use small lighter-than-air craft to transport material from one end of the planetoid to the other.

  This was obviously one of those ships, blackened and rusted now from disuse. Curiosity impelled him to open the creaking door and peer into the dusty interior of the ancient ship.

  The bright outside light streamed through the glass window in the cowl of the ship revealing a cobwebbed instrument panel and rusty controls.

  Ward smiled thinly as his glance traveled over the inside of the ship. It was obviously deserted and forgotten and
for that very reason it might provide an excellent hiding place for him.

  When he squeezed through the narrow door and made a more careful inspection of the ship’s equipment his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

  With a careful finger he touched a thin dark smudge on one of the control gears. It was a stain of oil—fresh, high quality oil!

  In a flash he understood that the decrepit appearance of this ship was deceptive—as deceptive as everything else on this grim planetoid.

  His eyes swept carefully over the control. In spite of their misleading appearance, his trained gaze told him they were in perfect condition.

  One device above the instrument was beyond his comprehension. It was a white screen approximately two feet square, criss-crossed with horizontal and perpendicular lines. They dissected the screen into thousands of tiny squares. At the top of the square panel was a glowing red disc almost an inch in diameter.

  He stepped closer to examine the intricate arrangement, but suddenly he stopped, every muscle tightening.

  A hoarse, faint shout had reached his ears!

  IT WAS answered by another voice closer than the first, and a second later a full throated chorus of voices sounded. There was the unmistakable cry of the hunting pack in the chilling, high-pitched babel of voices.

  Ward felt his heart pounding suffocatingly against his ribs. If his hiding place had been discovered, he was as good as dead. In the broad revealing daylight he wouldn’t have a chance

  of eluding his pursuers.

  He stepped quickly to the narrow open door and one cautious glance confirmed his worst fears. Advancing toward the ship along the rims of the gulley were a dozen of the swart, stocky half-breed inhabitants of Exile Planetoid. They were all armed with electric-arc guns and there were smiles of savage anticipation on their thick features.

  They hadn’t seen him yet, but it was obvious they realized that they had cornered their quarry.

  Desperately he slammed the door and was relieved to hear the solid heavy metallic click as it banged shut. The rickety rusty appearance of the door was also a sham; it swung shut on well-oiled hinges and the wall of the ship presented a solid, hermetically welded expanse after it closed.