Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  Storm edged him aside. In the compound robots were drawn up in ranks on both sides of the encampment. Advancing through their center was the weirdest sight Storm had encountered in his life.

  Reading a squad of robots was a tall, voluptuously proportioned girl, a magnificent Amazon with flaming; red hair and ice-green eyes. She wore-, a brief, tight-fitting garment, and a long purple cape that swirled back and away from her powerful shoulders. Her bare legs were slender and: graceful; but the fine muscles that rippled in her calves as she advanced was an indication of steel-spun strength.

  From a jeweled belt at her waist hung a gleaming tubular object from which poured a stream of light. In one gauntleted hand she carried a ray gun of ancient make, and the other was raised above her head in a defiant gesture as she stopped spread-legged before Storm’s quarters.

  “Come out, you crawling cowards!” she shouted in a brassy, full-lunged voice. “There is nothing here but a helpless girl and a few clumsy figures of steel.”

  Storm had hardly dared believe his eyes when he saw the girl. Now he jerked open the door and strode into the compound. He stopped a dozen feet from the girl, a hard smile on his face.

  The girl watched him and the expression of belligerence on her face changed slowly to one of bewilderment.

  “Yes,” Storm said. “We know each other, Karen. You were eleven when I last saw you.”

  “You’re Storm,” the girl said slowly. “You came here with my father on that trip.”

  Storm nodded. He could hardly believe he wasn’t living some strangely vivid dream. This was Karen Griffith, daughter of Commander Griffith, who had been left on Jupiter eleven years ago. Karen had not only survived; she had thrived.

  “Your father?” Storm said, quietly. “Dead,” the girl said. “He and Ben Thatcher, and my mother have been gone a long while now. That pleases you, doesn’t it?” she said, in a savage voice. “You and all the rest of Earth cowards. You deserted him, left him here to die.”

  “I did not desert your father,” Storm said in an even voice. “I was dragged aboard the ship in irons and taken back to Earth by force.”

  “Lies, lies, lies!” the girl cried imperiously. She stepped back a pace, her hand dropping to the tube at her waist as members of Storm’s crew crowded out behind him,

  “Hold it!” Storm said sharply. He didn’t know what she intended to do; but he surmised the tube controlled the robots in some manner. “We’re not your enemies, Karen. We are here to continue your father’s work. Earth is in danger Karen, grave danger. The danger your father foresaw and attempted to prepare Earth to face, is at hand—so close at hand that days may mean the difference of life and death to the entire planet.”

  “You expect me to care about the fate of Earth?” the girl cried scornfully. “I would cheerfully hasten Earth’s destruction with every means at my command.”

  “Your father didn’t teach you that attitude,” Storm said.

  “My father was a poor, idealistic fool,” Karen said, laughing. “He held no malice against Earth. He talked to me of tolerance of forgiveness. I listened and when he finished I spat at his feet. I saw what they had done to him, I saw the reward he received for his service, his dedication, his very life! There is no forgiveness, no charity in me, Storm—for you or your kind!”

  “We face each other as enemies then?” Storm said heavily.

  KAREN laughed, a ringing defiant laugh. “Yes, by Heaven, we do!” She turned a significant glance at the column of silent robots lined up on both sides of her, and stretching back for what seemed miles. Then she faced Storm again. “You’ve seen my pets at work. I warn you, Storm, I do not intend to make war. My life is my own, clean, alone, and unfettered, I will keep it that way with every weapon I control!

  “I will not interfere with you. But if you seek me out or attempt to disrupt my life, I will not rest until every man of yours is ground to powder beneath the feet of my army. Do you understand?”

  Storm nodded. His face was dark, bitter, as he struggled against a mighty anger. He would have liked to get his hands on this imperious, defiant woman for ten seconds. But the thing that enraged him most was that she had every right in the world to her opinion and feeling. Why should she help Earth?

  There was no reason. The girl had seen the gratitude of Earth, knew its pettiness. Who could blame her for the way she felt?

  “Very well, Karen,” he said. “We have our work to do, and you have a right to your own life. They won’t come in conflict.”

  “They had better not,” Karen said, with an ominous smile.

  Still smiling she fingered the tube at her waist and the army of silent automatons began to rearrange themselves in formation, Karen backed away from the compound, her cool, ice-green eyes flicking contemptuously across the groups of silent men who watched her, and when she reached the crest of the slope, she wheeled and disappeared.

  The last they saw was the flash of her purple cape, elusive and mysterious as smoke on the horizon.

  CHAPTER V

  STORM turned and nodded to the crew members clustered at the entrance of his office. “Carry on with your regular work, men.” He hesitated a moment, then added grimly. “You know as much about this thing as I do.”

  Entering his office. Storm found McDonald standing by his desk. The engineer was grave.

  “Two men were killed at the blast-off chute,” he said. “They didn’t get started fast enough.”

  “I see,” Storm sat down at his desk and rubbed his forehead tiredly. He had been known in the service as a steel-hard, void-cold commander; but no one knew the effort it cost him to preserve that front of impersonality.

  McDonald filled a cup with coffee, poured whisky into it and brought it to Storm.

  “You need this,” he said. “You can’t last much longer at this pace, you know. Why don’t you rest tonight?”

  Storm took the coffee and sipped it. He was touched by McDonald’s concern, and he didn’t know quite what to say. “There’s too much to do,” he said finally. “But thanks just the same.”

  McDonald nodded and left the office. Storm finished the coffee and stood up and walked into his bedroom. Margo still lay on the bed. She was staring at the ceiling. He saw that she had been crying.

  “Knee hurt?” he said.

  “No, it’s stiff, that’s all.”

  “Will you let me tape it for you?”

  “Yes. Maybe I can walk then.” Storm got out a first-aid kit and pulled a chair beside the cot. He sat down and applied a tape cast to the injured knee.

  “That may hurt a little,” he said. “No, it’s all right.”

  He fought down a feeling of annoyance. “Well, something’s hurting you. You’re crying.”

  “She had a pretty loud voice. I heard about Thatcher.”

  “Oh,” Storm said. He felt clumsy. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It was the end of a dream. All dreams do end, don’t they?”

  “I don’t know,” Storm said, standing. “I think you can walk now.”

  She stood and tested the leg by walking haltingly to the door. “It’s all right, I guess. Thanks, Storm.” Turning, she limped across his office and he heard the door slam behind her.”

  Storm threw himself on the cot and pressed both hands against his aching eyes. There was faint, delicate fragrance in the room, a subtle essence as elusive as a smile.

  He lay there, staring at the ceiling, stony-faced, wondering what had happened to him . . .

  HALF an hour later he pushed up on one elbow, frowning. Something was wrong. It took him a moment to decide what it was. There was no sound of activity from the compound. The normal, everyday bustle of work was lacking.

  Storm walked out of his office and saw half a dozen men talking in a small group. Other groups were clustered in the compounds. No one was working.

  The talk faded as he glanced from group to group, his jaw hardening grimly.

  “I told you men to carry on your regular wo
rk,” he said harshly. “Didn’t you understand that?”

  Larry Masterson, the young flight captain, moved out from a group and sauntered over to Storm. He stopped and lit a cigarette and blew smoke in the air. His blond hair hung over his forehead and there was a sardonic smile at his lips.

  “We don’t see much reason to get back to work, Commander Storm,” he said mildly. “We’re tired of being driven like dogs to satisfy your ego. We don’t believe the fairy stories about Galaxy X, and we don’t intend to invite more attacks from those murderous robots.”

  “You’ve said enough to hang yourself, Captain,” Storm said grimly. He raked his eyes over the crew members clustered in the compound. “I’ll give you exactly ten seconds to get on with your work!”

  He swung his arm up and watched the second hand on his watch move inexorably across the dial, Larry Masterson yawned elaborately.

  Storm put his arm down and squared his big shoulders. “So it’s mutiny, is it?” he said quietly.

  “Oh, no, not at all,” Larry Masterson said. “We think you’re unfit to command this squadron, Commander. When we return to Earth it is you who will stand trial, not us. Now, we are relieving you of command.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing!” Storm shouted.

  “Yes, we do,” Larry said, his voice hard. “We heard the pact you made with that murderous girl, and we intend to change it. We’ll take her robots and put them to work for us, and we’ll see that she causes no trouble.”

  Storm spun suddenly and dove for the door of his office, but half a dozen crew members sprang after him and caught him before he got inside. Struggling furiously he was borne to the ground.

  The crew must have prepared for the attack, Storm realized, for steel hoops were produced, slipped about his arms and tightened until he was pinioned helplessly. Then he was jerked to his feet “You will be kept a prisoner until we return to Earth,” Larry Masterson said. “Your treatment will depend on how you behave yourself.”

  “You’ll die for this!” Storm raged. “No. I’m merely trying to save all of our lives.”

  McDonald, the tall, graying engineer, came forward slowly from the ranks and stood beside Storm. “I’m too old for mutiny,” he said in a cold precise voice. “Commander Storm is my superior officer. I recognize no other.”

  “Very well,” Larry said drily. “You may accompany your commander into honorable imprisonment.”

  He was turning away when a clear but firm voice said, “If you move I will blast you to hell.”

  Storm looked up and saw the girl, Margo, her face ashen, clenching a heavy gun in both hands and pointing it unwaveringly at Larry.

  “Don’t be a fool,” he called to her.

  She stood at the edge of the compound, a slight, determined figure. “Release him,” she said.

  She didn’t see the man slipping up behind her, nor did she see his hand until it came down suddenly and sharply, knocking the gun from her grasp. By then it was too late. She sank to the ground, weeping.

  Larry shrugged. “Take these three down to the: blast-off field and lock them up there. We’ve got work to do . . .”

  CHAPTER VI

  THE place they were taken to was a steel building used to house tools and supplies. It was & one-storied unit about twelve by fourteen feet, with glass windows that were strong; as chrome steel.

  Storm stood at one window staring across the mile-long sweep leading to the compound. He could see men moving about even at that distance for the atmosphere was burned clear by the powerful sun lamps.

  He stood there unmoving, his face black with rage, his eyes hot. He wanted nothing else in life but to get his hands on Larry’s throat.

  McDonald joined him. “They may change their minds, you know,” he said. “Some of those men have sense. When they start thinking this over they may snap out of it.”

  “I didn’t ask for a recapitulation,” Storm said harshly.

  McDonald cleared his throat. “Very well, sir,” he said, and sat down with his back to the wall.

  “Bite and snarl, that’s all you know,” Margo said hotly. “He stuck with you, didn’t he, while the rest of your men mutinied?”

  “Do you think he deserves some special credit for doing what he swore he would do when he was commissioned in the service?” Storm said.

  “He wouldn’t get it from you, at least,” Margo said. “You think people should be made of steel, knowing nothing but duty, having no doubts, or problems, or anything but their dedicated service to Earth.”

  “Am l a monster because I want Earth to be safe?” Storm said.

  “No,” Margo said in a weary voice. “But you’ve never learned that two people can want: the same thing in different ways. You treat disagreement with scorn instead of respect. Your men want what you want, Storm, but you drove them away.”

  “Shut up!” Storm said angrily.

  “That’s how you settle all issues. Very well, I’ll shut up.”

  Storm watched; the compound, his face stony; Soon, he saw a figure leave there and head toward them, toward the blast-off field. When the man neared Storm recognized him as Boyd, the fighter pilot.

  “Where are you going, Boyd?” he shouted.

  Boyd grinned. “Just for a pleasure jaunt, my friend,” he said, and continued on. A little later Storm heard a ship take off under auxiliary power. He peered upward and saw the slim fighter streaking upward and then bank toward the mountains.

  He frowned and rubbed his jaw trying to guess what the men were planning.

  HALF an hour later twelve men left the compound. They carried packs. The man in the lead talked like Larry, but at that distance, Storm couldn’t be sure.

  For another hour he watched the compound, looking for more indications that might help him decide what was happening; but nothing of significance occurred. Men strolled across the compound to the hall, or moved in and out of their dwelling units, in normal, casual fashion.

  He lit one of his stubby black cigars and glanced up at the thick, green sky. High and almost directly above the compound he saw a small black globe settling toward the ground. He watched it for a moment without expression; and then his hands tightened instinctively.

  “McDonald,” he said. “Come here.”

  Storm pointed to the descending globe. He didn’t speak. McDonald moved closer to the window and peered upward, a slight frown on his face.

  They could see the object more clearly now. It was circular, saucer-shaped, and was spinning slowly as it descended. From ports on its narrow sides bright lights flashed.

  “Well?” Storm said. He kept his voice quiet, even.

  “I don’t know,” McDonald said slowly. “Look at the compound.”

  The men at the compound had come out of their steel huts, were gazing upward at the settling globe. Some of them were waving.

  “Fools!” Storm raged. He beat a fist into his palm. “The hopeless, damned fools! Don’t they realize—”

  The door behind them opened and a corporal came in, plainly worried. He looked at Storm awkwardly. “Sir,” he said, “There’s a—You’ve seen it, I guess.”

  Storm didn’t answer. “Let me have your binoculars.”

  “Yes, sir,” the corporal said, with relief in his voice. It was obvious he was willing, even anxious, for Storm to resume responsibility and command.

  Storm studied the globe with the glasses. It was several hundred yards above the ground now, and moving slowly. He saw nothing revealing at close range. The ship was made of black metal, and the lights flashing from discs on its side were bright and dazzling.

  As he watched the discs revolved and beams of light struck down toward the compound.

  McDonald shouted involuntarily. “Watch out!”

  Storm swung the glasses to the compound and saw that his men had been scattered to the ground like broken dolls. The light from the still-settling ship played over them, flashed into the buildings, over the whole area, bathing it brilliant radiance.
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br />   The men under the light didn’t move; they lay still in the undignified sprawl of death.

  “Oh God!” Margo cried. “What happened to them, Storm?”

  STORM failed to answer. He watched the ship as it stopped fifty yards above the ground, then, after a wait of several minutes, dropped gently to rest in the compound.

  A powerful tension grew in Storm. It wasn’t fear! It was anticipation! He knew with calm strong certainty that he was about to meet the thing he had fought against all his life. He had never known the enemy; he had battled shadows. Now the curtain was lifted, the antagonists could face each other, measuringly, appraisingly, finally.

  Apertures appeared in the sides of the ship and things moved out of it and onto the rocky ground of Jupiter.

  Storm centered his glasses on the first of the creatures, and hot anger coursed through him as he made out details: fat, toad-like bodies, gray, scabrous skins, pendulous heads, and great round stumps of feet.

  “It’s incredible!” McDonald whispered. “They’re—they’re old, older than hell.”

  “The last crawling filth of a dead universe,” Storm said. “They want the plains and flowers of Earth now. They need its sun and air and young vigor.”

  They counted five of the creatures. They watched in fascinated silence as the invaders moved sluggishly about the compound, in and out of the buildings. Then, after this examination, the creatures came together for several minutes near their ship. Finally four of them left the compound and traveled in the direction of the slope where the robots had first appeared—and where the twelve crewmen had gone.

  Once started they moved with greater speed, and in a matter of seconds they had disappeared over the crest of the hill.

  For several minutes no one spoke. Storm glanced at Margo and saw that her cheeks were wet but her eyes were flashing defiance.

  “Good,” he said gently. “Maybe if you thought about them all of your life you might turn into the kind of person I am. It’s not a nice thing to turn into, of course. Nobody likes you very much.” He turned to the corporal, who snapped to painful attention. “Let me have your rifle,” he said.