by Hal K. Wells
Blake in a painstakingprocess of examination.
Again Blake noted that the shimmering gold-flecked wall closed quicklyin and kept its surface unbroken no matter how often objects were thrustthrough it.
Completely ignoring Helen, Zehru lifted first Mapes, then Blake, histentacles probing, fingering, exploring. There was enormous power in theXollarian's grotesque body. He lifted the men as though they were woodendolls, bringing them close to the shimmering wall to peer at them, thensetting them carefully down again on their feet under the disk. Blakewondered idly why their stiff bodies did not topple over when they wereleft unsupported, then decided that the paralyzing force of the diskprobably left the automatic muscular balancing movements unimpaired,affecting only the powers of voluntary movement.
* * * * *
Then, as Zehru set him down after one of the periods of examination,Blake noticed a new and startling change the moment his feet touched theground. His right leg and right arm were no longer dead!
He hurriedly glanced down at the ground at his feet, and promptly foundwhat seemed to be the reason for his partial freedom from the paralysis.In setting his body down the last time Zehru had moved Blake slightly.His right foot now rested upon a corner of the discarded topcoat lyinghalf-buried there in the blue-gray dust.
The heavily rubberized cloth apparently acted as an insulating sheetthat prevented the effective grounding of the paralyzing force thatstreamed down through Blake's body from the overhead disk. Consequentlyall portions of his body between the coat and the disk were free fromthe paralysis. For a moment Blake wondered at Zehru's carelessness. Thenhe realized that the insulating qualities of rubber would naturally beunknown to a Xollarian.
Noting that Zehru was busy at the moment with his work upon Mapes, Blakequickly grasped at the faint chance the presence of the rubberized clothoffered him. Working with infinite slowness and caution, he edged hisright foot over an inch at a time, dragging the rest of his body withit.
Luck was with him. Zehru continued, absorbed in his work upon Mapes. TheXollarian's telepathic powers apparently functioned only with the aid ofthe red ray, for he remained oblivious of Blake's actions. One finalcautious dragging movement, and Blake's entire body was upon the cloth,with every muscle again vibrantly alive.
* * * * *
Blake stood there motionless, faking paralysis, while his brain raced inan effort to figure the best use to make of his present advantage. Hewas still trapped, not daring to reach even a hand beyond the protectionof the cloth underfoot. The first essential of any effort at escapewould have to be a lunge of sufficient power to take him safely beyondthe area of the disk's influence.
Blake's first thought was to hurl himself through the barrier wall uponZehru, trusting to sheer surprise to overwhelm the Xollarian, but hequickly dismissed that plan. It left too many elements in Zehru's favor.There was a tube-like weapon thrust in a belt around Zehru's middle andthere were probably a dozen other different weapons lying handy to hisreach among the apparatus on the platform. The deadly purple mistsbeyond the wall would alone in all probability overcome Blake before hecould batter Zehru down.
By far the best plan was to stage the battle inside the enclosure whereBlake would be in his own native element. If he could yank Zehru insidethe wall he would have him away from contact with his mechanical weaponsand battling in an atmosphere inherently poisonous to him. Under thosecircumstances, Blake felt that he might have an even chance in ahand-to-hand combat with the powerful but slow-footed Xollarian.
Once Zehru was eliminated, escape back to Earth should be a simplematter. The silver gate, with its automatic mechanism needing only theclosing of a lever, was ready and waiting there in the enclosure behindthem.
* * * * *
For long tense minutes Blake forced himself to remain rigidly motionlesswhile Zehru labored over Mapes. Then finally the Xollarian turned hisattention briefly back to Blake, and thrust two tentacles in to grip hisbody. No sooner had the tentacles crossed above the border of the cloththan Zehru realized that something was wrong. He tried to whip his armsback again but too late.
Blake made a lightning snatch at a tentacle with both hands, and in thesame lithe movement turned from the barrier wall and flung himselfheadlong toward the center of the enclosure. Zehru had no time to bracehimself. He was jerked bodily through the shimmering wall and on afterBlake's lunging body.
One of the Xollarian's waving tentacles grasped wildly at the overheaddisk in an effort to stay his flight. The only result was to bring theentire disk and its supports crashing in ruins to the ground upon thestruggling figures of Blake and himself.
Blake was upon his feet again instantly. Snatching up a yard-long scrapof metal from the wreckage of the disk, he flung himself upon Zehru.The Xollarian seemed for the moment too dazed by his fall to fight back.With tentacles raised to guard his head, he staggered backward inretreat, every step taking him farther away from the wall and the purplemists.
Blake was vaguely aware that Helen and Mapes, freed by the wrecking ofthe disk, were scrambling to their feet. Mapes was already runningtoward the combatants. Blake was glad at the prospect of an ally.Zehru's dazed condition was swiftly passing. He had now stopped hisretreat and was already fumbling a tentacle toward the tube-weapon inhis belt.
Blake flung himself upon Zehru in another effort to beat him down beforehe could draw that weapon, but his metal club glanced harmlessly off thetentacles Zehru raised to shield his head. Then beyond Zehru Blake sawsomething that made him stop his assault.
* * * * *
It was Mapes, sprinting toward the silver arch-gate at the other end ofthe enclosure. Blake's heart sank as he realized the gangster'streachery. If he once reached that arch he could send himself safelyhurtling back to Earth, while Blake and Helen would be left to perishwith Zehru in the explosion that would immediately follow. It was toolate for Blake to head the gangster off. He had already covered half thedistance to the arch.
Zehru noted Mapes' fleeing figure almost as quickly as did Blake.Swiftly the Xollarian swung his tube-weapon into line with the fleeinggangster. A thin pencil of dull yellow light of a peculiar densityspurted from the tube toward Mapes. There was a flash of blinding flameas the light beam met the gangster's body; then Mapes' figure seemed toliterally explode, as though blasted by dynamite from within. Sodevastating was the force of that explosion that nothing remained ofMapes' body beyond a few scattered fragments of shoes and clothing.
Blake was still dazed at the cataclysmic suddenness of Mapes' death asZehru swung the tube around to train it upon him. Only a last-minutedesperate effort upon Blake's part saved him. His wildly thrown metalclub made a lucky hit on the tube itself, knocking it, shattered anduseless, out of Zehru's grasp.
Unarmed, Zehru faced Blake with his face contorting in agony. For amoment the Xollarian swayed there, apparently trying to gather hisfailing strength for the next move. The deadly air of the enclosure wasalready taking hideous toll. The scaly flesh of his head and face wasdissolving like melting butter.
Zehru's strength was ebbing too swiftly for him to have any chance ofgaining safety through either of the distant side walls. His only hopeof fighting back to the purple mists was to pass Blake and go throughthe nearby end wall through which he had originally been drawn.
He came lunging forward in an attack whose sheer fury made Blake giveground before the menace of the lashing tentacles.
* * * * *
Blake took another backward step, then staggered as his foot struck arough spot in the ground. Zehru's tentacles were upon him before hecould recover himself. His club was jerked from his fingers and senthurtling far out of reach. Half a dozen of the tentacle-arms lashedaround his throat in a strangling grip.
He clawed wildly at the choking coils, but they failed to loosen even afraction of an inch. Desperately Blake sent his fists smashing into the
gray face. The scale armor of Zehru's skull, fast weakening in theliquefying influence of the oxygen, gave way beneath that batteringattack. He staggered, and his coiling tentacles relaxed slightly.
Blake tore himself free. A final smashing blow, with every ounce of hisone hundred and ninety pounds behind it, sent Zehru crashing to theground. The Xollarian tried to rise, then feebly slumped back, hisstrength spent. Blake leaped forward to finish his opponent, but stoppedas he saw that his efforts were not needed.
The deadly air of the enclosure was now overwhelming Zehru with swiftand hideous death. He was literally rotting before Blake's horrifiedeyes, the gray-scaled skin sloughing off in streaming rivulets of pallidooze, and the entire body contorting in what was obviously a deathagony.
Sickened, Blake stepped back a pace or two. Zehru's tentacles feeblybeat the ground around him, then suddenly one of the writhing armsblundered upon a thin cable running along the ground. Before Blake