BEYOND THE THUNDER
By
H. B. Hickey
Ten thousand persons in New York looked
skyward at the first rumble of sound. The flash
caught them that way, seared them to cinder, liquefied
their eyeballs, brought their vitals boiling out of
the fissures of their bodies. They were the lucky
ones. The rest died slowly, their monument the
rubble which had once been a city.
Of all that, Case Damon knew nothing.
Rocketing up in the self-service elevator to his new
cloud-reaching apartment in San Francisco, his thoughts
were all on the girl who would be waiting for him.
“She loves me, she loves me
not,” he said to himself. They were orchid
petals, not those of daisies, that drifted to the floor
of the car.
“She loves me.” The
last one touched the floor softly, and Case laughed.
Then the doors were opening and he
was racing down the hall. No more lonely nights
for him, no more hours wasted thumbing through the
pages of his little black book wondering which girl
to call. Case Damon, rocket-jockey, space-explorer,
was now a married man, married to the most beautiful
girl in the world.
He scooped Karin off her feet and
hugged her to him. Her lips were red velvet on
his, her spun gold hair drifted around his shoulders.
“Box seats for the best show
in town, honey,” he gloated in her ear.
He fished around in his pockets with
one hand while he held her against him with the other.
They’d said you couldn’t get tickets for
that show. But what “they” said never
stopped Case Damon, whether it was a matter of theatre
tickets, or of opening a new field on a distant airless
planet.
“Turn off that telecast,”
he said. “I’m not interested in Interplan
news these days. From now on, Case Damon keeps
his feet on terra firma.”
And that was the way it was going
to be. His interest in the uranium on Trehos
alone should keep him and Karin in clover for the rest
of their lives. They’d have fun, they’d
have kids, they’d live like normal married people.
The rest of the universe could go hang.
“If you’d stop raving,
I might get a word in edgewise,” Karin begged.
“The floor is yours. Also
the walls, the building, the whole darned city if
you want it,” Case laughed.
“That telecast is ticking for
you. Washington calling Case Damon. Washington
calling Case Damon. Since you left an hour ago
it’s been calling you.”
“Let it call. It’s
my constitutional right not to answer.”
But his mood was changing to match
Karin’s. His lean, firm-jawed features
were turning serious. Tension tightened his powerful
body.
“It must be important, Case,”
Karin said. “They’re using your code
call. They wouldn’t do that unless it was
urgent.”
He listened to the tick of the machine.
Unless you knew, it sounded only like the regular
ticking that told the machine was in operation.
But there were little breaks here and there.
It was for him.
Three long strides took him to the
machine. His deft fingers flicked switches, brought
a glow to the video tubes.
“Case Damon,” he said softly. “Come
in, Washington.”
It was Cranly’s face that filled
the screen. But a Cranly Case barely recognized.
The man had aged ten years in the last three days.
His voice was desperate.
“Good grief, man! Where’ve
you been? Get down here fast. But fast!”
“Listen, Cranly. I’m
on my honeymoon. Or have you forgotten? Remember
three days ago you were best man at a wedding?
Well, the fellow at the altar was Case Damon.”
That should have gotten a smile out
of Cranly. But it didn’t. He was even
a little angry now.
“This is an order, Case!
I’m giving you the honor of being the first
non-official person to know about it. Supreme
Emergency Mobilization and Evacuation Order.
New York was blasted out of existence an hour ago!”
All flights grounded, the skyport
in a turmoil, but that little silver card got him
and Karin through. Nobody knew yet what was going
on. They were readying for something big, but
they didn’t know what as yet.
Case hurried Karin to his own hangar,
bustled her into the small speeder.
“The fishing cabin on the Columbia,
honey. Stay there! And don’t worry
if you don’t hear from me.”
He didn’t even wait to see her
take off. Karin would be safe enough. The
cabin was a hundred miles from any possible military
objective. All he had to do was sit tight until
things were straightened out. New York blasted!
That could have been an accident. It must
have been an accident. The only alternative would
be war. And there were no more wars. Somebody
at Supreme Council must have lost his head to issue
the E.M.E. order.
Sure, that was it. Leave it to
the politicos to get excited and jump out of their
skins. Below him the glistening towers of Kansas
City flashed and faded and were replaced minutes later
by the towers of St. Louis. Chicago was batting
out a “clear the sky order.”
All three of those cities would have
been gone by now if there were really a war, Case
told himself. But Cranly was no politician.
And he wasn’t the kind that scared easily.
It was Cranly who met him at Washington
skyport. Cranly was scared, all right. He
was more frightened than he’d been the time their
ship had started to tear loose from their mooring
on that moon of Jupiter. His face was gray.
“I’ll fill you in as we
go,” he said. The official car jerked into
high speed and Cranly talked. “It was no
accident. Get that straight. New York was
hit from the outside.”
“But how? By what?
Under the Unified Council there’s no one who’d
have anything to gain by war. There isn’t
even anyone on Earth with the power to make war.”
“That’s why we wanted
you here. It figures to be an enemy from another
planet.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Case swivelled around to face Cranly. “You
and I know our system as well as anyone alive.
Cut out the guessing and give me the facts.”
“All right. Enough people
saw the thing from Jersey so that we know what happened.
They say there was a rumble like thunder. Out
of a clear sky, mind you. Then get
this the sky seemed to open! There
was a blast of light. That’s all.
New York was gone.”
“Atom blast?”
“Hardly. No mushroom cloud.
Accident? No, and you’ll learn why I’m
so sure shortly.”
Case Damon had met some of these men
before. A few others he recognized from their
pictures. The Supreme Council. They were
plenty worried. Strogoff was chewing his mustache;
Vargas drummed nervously with thick fingers.
Cunningham and Osborn were pacing the floor.
“Thank heaven for one thing,”
Osborn said. Vargas looked up at him quickly,
his dark eyes slits in his swarthy face.
“For what?” Vargas asked bitterly.
“That there has been no panic.
Urban evacuations are proceeding quietly.”
“I still think it could have
been some natural phenomenon,” Case interrupted.
“Even a terrific bolt of lightning.”
Cranly’s big shoulders lifted
as a recorder was wheeled into the room. He indicated
where the machine was to be set down.
“We’ve wasted a little
time in letting you make these guesses,” he told
Case. “All for a reason. We want you
to realize fully what sort of weapon we are up against.
Now listen to this message that was beamed onto the
Council’s private line a few minutes after the
blast.”
He went to the recorder and tripped
a lever. The instrument settled to a low whine
that soon disappeared as the recording tape entered
the converter. The voice might have been in the
room with them.
“To the Supreme Council of the
Planet Earth: What happened to New York was only
a token of what can be done to your entire planet.
Our terms are complete and unconditional surrender,
to be telecast within one week. To hasten your
decision, there will be other tokens at twelve-hour
intervals.”
“Now you know,” Cranly
said heavily. “Either give up or be destroyed.
And that ultimatum from an enemy which has no compunction
about murdering ten million people to prove its power.”
A thousand questions jumped to Case
Damon’s mind. The horror of the thing stilled
most of them. He checked over possibilities quickly.
“You say many people outside
of New York saw the flash. What about skyports,
observatories, the fleet base on the Moon? Did
they try to get a triangulation?”
“I can see why Cranly wanted
you here,” Vargas said, smiling faintly.
His own people had been the last to join the Unified
Council. He had held out to the last, had demanded
and received concessions, but he was considered one
of the Council’s ablest men.
“Naturally there were attempts
at fixing the source of the flash,” he continued.
“Had those attempts met with success the fleet
would already be on its way.”
“I don’t get it,”
Case said bluntly. “If they attempted triangulation,
they must have got it.”
“Precisely,” Cranly interjected.
“They got it. The source of the flash was
an empty space between Mars and Venus!”
Case was rocked back on his heels
by Cranly’s disclosure. This was something.
An enemy who loosed his blasts out of unoccupied space,
who could cut into the Council’s own line at
will!
“What about a fast moving asteroid?
That could have been gone before it was observed.”
“Not a chance,” Cranly said.
And Cranly should know. So should
the rest. Every one of them was in charge of
a department of the Earth’s services. But
there was that emphasis on Mars and Venus. Strogoff
interrupted that line of thought.
“I say we might as well give
in.” Even his thick mustache drooped in
despondency. “Why have millions more killed?”
“Never!” Osborn thundered.
“I should hesitate to admit
defeat,” Vargas shrugged. “But how
can we defend ourselves?”
Outside the chambers, in the corridor,
Cranly gripped his friend’s shoulder hard.
“That’s been going on for an hour,”
he said, “this one for, and that one against.”
“And meanwhile the fleet can’t do a thing,”
Cranly added.
“Exactly. Whoever blasted
New York is doing it from an invisible base.
That’s my guess. It’s an invader from
space. My job will be to stay here and keep the
Council from giving up. Your job is to find the
base.”
“Are you sure the attack was from space?”
“Positive.”
“Well,” Case mused, “I’ve
found uncharted planets, even discovered a city on
Mars that the experts said didn’t exist.
Maybe I can get beyond the thunder, through a hole
in the sky.”
It was night, and that was a good
break. Cranly had been sure he could hold the
Council together another twelve hours. Even through
a second attack. Fine. For a job like this,
Case thought, twelve hours of night were better than
twenty of daylight.
He grabbed an aero-cab for the skyport.
The pilot looked twice at the silver tab, finally
nodded. Case had a few minutes with his thoughts.
He’d wanted to talk to Karin, but Cranly had
turned thumbs down.
“You can talk to her if and
when you get back,” he’d said. Fine
stuff for a guy who was supposed to be enjoying a
honeymoon.
“Hey!” the pilot blurted,
cutting into Case’s thoughts. He pointed
out the window.
Case saw a red streak cut through
the sky toward them. A rocket ship, and moving
fast. It flashed closer. No mistake about
this, it was aiming right for them. They were
a couple of dead ducks.
“Look out,” Case said.
His big hands flung the pilot out
of his seat. Case took over the controls.
A whoosh of fire swept past the cabin, missed them
as Case sent the ship into a dive.
“Break out the glider chutes,”
he called back over his shoulder.
Luckily, the pilot didn’t try
to argue. He was too scared. He snapped a
chute around his own shoulders, fought his way forward
and got the other one around Case. Another blast
cut past the cabin, then another. The rocket
ship was using all guns now. They were over the
Potomac, then over a wooded area.
“We’ll jump at a hundred feet,”
Case yelled.
A streak of flame caught the cab’s
right edge, and Case told himself they’d be
lucky to jump at all. The little craft was almost
out of control. His pretended spin was turning
into the real thing. Keeping his eyes glued on
the plummeting altimeter, he got his left foot up and
kicked out the side window. A flash melted the
dial and singed his sleeve. One-fifty.
“Go!” Case barked.
The pilot’s heels vanished out
the window and Case banked sharply to the right and
flung himself out of the seat. Hard earth of a
clearing looked like it was going to smack him right
in the face.
Then the small chute billowed and
pulled out glider wings. Case pulled cords and
dropped leftward. The cab hit the ground to his
right, the rocket ship on its tail for a final blast.
He saw that, and then got his hands in front of him
and hit the ground in a rolling fall.
The pilot was a still shape near him
in the gloom. Case got out of the chute and ran
to him, slid expert hands over the man, and felt the
messy pulp that had once been a face. The pilot
hadn’t known how to fall properly.
Case took a quick look upward.
His trick hadn’t worked. The rocket was
making a tight curve for a landing. Smart operators;
they weren’t taking any chances. Case cursed
them, whoever they were, even as he dug his silver
identification plate out of his pocket and slid it
into the dead pilot’s flying jacket.
Then he ran. Maybe he’d
fool them. Maybe he wouldn’t. They’d
probably take a few minutes to think it over.
He skipped around a bush and heard voices and the
pound of running feet behind him.
So Cranly was wrong. This wasn’t
strictly a space job. There was a tie-up on Earth,
and the tie-up had to be on the very inside of the
Supreme Council! Nobody else knew Case Damon was
in on this deal. He ought to head back and warn
Cranly.
No, that wasn’t right.
He had to trust Cranly to handle his end. Only
nine hours now till the next blast, and if he took
time out to reach Cranly he wouldn’t ever make
it. Besides, his stunt might have worked.
Why tip them off he was still alive?
Brilliant headlights came up the road
and Case stepped out onto the highway. The lights
came on at two hundred miles an hour, caught him and
made him blink. Then there was the hiss of automatic
brakes.
“Hey!” a man yelled “What if those
brakes hadn’t worked?”
Case jerked the car door open and
saw that the man was alone. A young fellow, and
plenty frightened at sight of Case’s torn clothes
and scratched and dirty face.
“Don’t take your hands
off that wheel,” Case said sharply. “Head
for Washington skyport and keep your foot on the floor
all the way.”
The young fellow’s hand fell
away from the dash compartment. He gulped, nodded,
and threw the car into gear. He got his foot all
the way down and kept it there. They took a sweeping
curve at full speed.
Washington was a dot of light, then
a haze, a glare. All departments working overtime
tonight, Case thought. They hurtled toward the
city, smack toward Pennsylvania Avenue.
“Slow down,” Case said. “I
don’t want to be picked up.”
The young fellow slowed down.
He must be thinking he’s got a desperate character
next to him, Case mused. If he only knew how desperate!
The skyport was less than a mile away now.
“Take the side road around to
where the hangars are,” Case directed.
The young fellow took the side road.
They swept past the main gate, along the ten-mile
fence, slid without lights now behind the row of hangars.
The hangars looked like rows of cigars standing on
end, the ships inside them pointing up and ready to
go.
“This is where we get out,”
Case said. He shoved the driver out of the door
and followed him. His fist came up in a short
arc and cracked against a jaw-bone.
“Sorry,” Case told the
inert figure. “I just can’t take any
chances.”
He dumped the unconscious man beside
the road and then went back to the car. Wheeling
it around so it pointed back toward the main gate,
he left the motor whirring and stepped out. One
hand depressed the accelerator button, the other held
the motor release.
When he jumped clear, the car spurted.
With lights off in the darkness the automatic brake
wouldn’t work. A hundred yards down the
car slowed, swerved, hit a concrete abutment.
Quite a crash, Case thought. That ought to turn
a few heads the wrong way for a while.
He was at the high fence in a flash.
His fingers searched for and found crevices.
Those fingers were strong as steel. They hauled
Case Damon upward and over the top. He grinned
into the darkness.
Men were running from the hangars
toward the site of the crash. With no incoming
traffic slated, the control tower had swung all lights
that way. Somewhere a crash siren sang its song.
Case dropped completely relaxed.
His feet hit first as he fell forward. His hands
hit next, then his head was down between his shoulders
and he was rolling forward onto the back of his neck
and then onto his feet again. He came up running.
It was going to be a slow start without
rocket-boosters. But rockets made light
and sound. This had to be a silent takeoff.
He knew his way around this tiny ship
even in complete blackness. He had designed it
himself, and it was completely functional. Case
Damon had wanted no comforts; those came at the end
of a journey. When there was a race for a newly
discovered ore field, it was the man who got there
first, not most comfortably, who won out.
A sharp click told Case that the anti-grav
was on. He was looking through his forward visalloy
plate straight up into a starlit sky. That wasn’t
too good. Small as the ship was, it still would
make a dark blot.
His eyes roved, discovered a few wisps
of cloud. He prayed them closer. Now!
This wasn’t the first time he’d
taken off in darkness, depending on spring power to
lift him silently out of the hangar cradle. He’d
beaten them all to Trehos only because they’d
figured to catch his takeoff by the rocket flashes.
They’d figured to tail him that way, too, only
by the time the competition had found out he was gone,
he’d been half way there.
Cranly hadn’t called him in
on this without good reason. Together, he and
Cranly had made many a rocket jaunt to distant and
dangerous places. They’d been a good team
before Cranly had sought election to the Council.
Cranly was the cautious kind; but when he knew exactly
where he stood, he could move fast enough.
Case slid the ship behind a cloud
and felt his speed slacken. He had to risk a
short burst of the jets. The odds were against
anyone seeing the flash now.
At his present low speed, it would
be a while before he was out of range of detection
apparatus. He had time to wonder whether he ought
to buzz Karin on the telecast. Better not; there
was always the chance his call might be picked up.
He was sorry now that he hadn’t
thought to shoot cross-country to get Karin.
Who knew for certain where the next blast would hit?
He could have dropped her off at the moon base.
The moon was full in his vision plates
now. He was close enough to tune in their local
telecast to the moon colonies. The machine was
ticking away and Case switched it onto the pitted
satellite’s local beam.
They had the news all right, and they
were making preparations for an attack. The fleet
base was assuring all colonists that it would furnish
them all possible protection.
A fat lot of good that was going to
do! Case had had enough time now to think this
over, and he was beginning to see the ramifications
of the thing.
Someone on Earth, someone inside
the Council, wanted to take over. But with
Earth supervision of military manufacture so thorough,
he hadn’t a chance to get started. So he
must have enlisted the aid of some power from outer
space.
But how? And what power?
And who was the traitor inside the Council?
Case wasn’t going at this blindly.
That first question, for instance. There had
been in the last year several strange disappearances.
Two space liners from Mars to Venus had utterly vanished,
without a trace. Smaller ships, too, had never
reported back. They had last been heard from
in that same area.
But space liners just didn’t
vanish. They had equipment for any emergency,
were able to contact Earth at a moment’s notice.
A hole in the sky, observers of the
flash had said. Between Mars and Venus, Cranly
had told him. It was beginning to add up.
It was Case Damon’s job to figure the total.
Now the moon was far behind.
Case looked at his watch and saw that he was making
real time. Another couple of hours was all he’d
need.
He got out the chart Cranly had given
him, set it up alongside his own navigation map, figured
the time element and aimed his ship at a blankness
in space. He would hit that empty space at exactly
the right time.
After that? Case didn’t
know. But he wasn’t the kind to cross bridges
before he got to them.
What if Cranly was the traitor within
the Council? That was hard to believe, but you
could never tell what lust for power might do to a
man. Cranly wasn’t the type. Yet,
there was a planet to be won. They said every
man had his price. And Cranly was in charge of
Earth’s intelligence services.
The ticking of the telecast broke
into his thoughts. There were breaks in the steady
sounds. His code call.
Case switched on the video and got
a blank. What the devil! Automatically he
reached for his transmitter switch. And caught
himself in the nick of time. It might be a trick
to get him to reveal his position. Instead, he
turned up the audio.
“Damon,” a voice said.
“Case Damon.” It was not the same
voice he had heard in the Council chambers. This
was vaguely familiar, but definitely disguised.
“Better turn back, Damon,”
the voice said. “You almost tricked us.
Don’t let a small success go to your head.
We cannot be defeated. Why sacrifice your life
for a lost cause?”
“You know where you can go, brother,”
Case said aloud.
It had been bad psychology to use
on a man who had never feared death anyway. Besides,
if they were so omniscient, why bother to try to stop
him with words?
The voice had tried to impress him
with power. It had only succeeded in disclosing
a weakness. They didn’t know where Case
Damon was, and they were worried.
Hours had become minutes, and the
minutes were ticking away with the sweep of the hand
on Case’s watch. Ten minutes more to go.
Using Cranly’s figures and chart, he was only
a thousand miles from that point in space.
He swung the ship around and cut speed,
but held his hand ready at the throttle. There
might not be much time to act. And the telecast
was using his signal again. He didn’t want
to turn it up, but he wanted to hear that voice again.
“Damon,” the voice said.
“Case Damon. This is your last chance.”
“Change your tune,” Case snarled at the
instrument.
But the voice was going on. “If
your own life means nothing, perhaps you value another
more. Turn on your video and you will see something
of interest to you.”
That got him, brought him bolt upright
in his seat. The voice could mean only one thing Karin!
Somehow they had got to her!
Maybe this was a trick. Only
five minutes or less now. They might be trying
to distract him. But he couldn’t take the
chance. With fingers that were icy cold, Case
Damon flicked on the video.
A wall was what he first saw.
Only a wall. It was a trick. But wait.
That wall was familiar, rough, unpainted. The
focus was shifting to a section that showed a mounted
fish. Now down the wall and across to a familiar
couch. The fishing cabin!
“Karin!” Case blurted.
Then he was mouthing incoherent curses.
Her figure had been flung across the screen, on the
couch. She had put up a fight. Her face was
scratched, her blouse ripped. There was a gag
in her mouth and her hands were tied behind her.
“She dies unless you turn back!”
the voice said. It meant every word.
Karin had guts. She was shaking
her head, imploring him with her eyes not to turn
back.
If he only had time to think!
What did the rest of the world mean to Case Damon?
Nothing, if it was a world without Karin. Yet,
she was his own kind, this girl he had married.
Were their positions reversed, it would have been
Case who shook his head. Better to die than live
in a world dominated by a murderous, merciless power.
And yet, she was ... Karin.
Without her there was nothing. Already Case’s
hands were busy, throwing switches that would cut in
the retarding jets, swinging the responsive craft
about. He had to give in. He didn’t
have time to think.
“All right,” he started to say.
His right hand reached out to turn
on his transmitter. His lips framed the words
again. But it was too late!
The video was distorting into a mass
of wavy lines, the audio brought nothing but a jumble
of sound. Interference was scrambling the telecast
waves beyond hope of intelligibility. He couldn’t
get through. The first rumble rose to audibility
and made the ship shiver.
“Too late,” Case said, and was beyond
cursing.
Too late to turn back now. But
not too late to go ahead. Air waves were pitching
the ship like a cork. He fought to control, and
finally swung back on course.
Case took a last quick look at Cranly’s
chart, and flicked his eyes ahead to the vision plate.
Only blackness yet, but the sound was growing and
rising in pitch past the point where he could hear
it. There was the sense of enormous strain, of
the tug of unbelievably powerful and overwhelming
contending forces.
And then the blackness split!
First, he could see only a pinpoint
of light. It grew larger, widened, spread until
it became a cleft in the void. Case flung his
ship forward.
The last rumble of thunder was fading.
He kept his eyes on that cleft in space, knowing what
would come. Yet, when it came, he was almost
blinded. A blast of light, a light so intense
that it was a tangible, solid thing, roared through
the cleft and hurtled Earthward.
Then the bolt was gone and the cleft
was closing. The tug of forces was growing less.
He had just seconds left to reach that diminishing
crack in the blackness.
Like a streak of vengeance itself,
Case sent his ship across the void. His lips
moved in silent prayer. There were only seconds
now. The crack was growing smaller, and that
meant his speed was not great enough. To risk
more power might blow the ship apart. But he had
to get through. He must, he must....
He was through!
Case was through, through the cleft
and beyond the thunder. He was hurtling out of
blackness into a world of light. Frantically,
he cut down his speed, not knowing whether he was
going into open space or the side of a mountain, whether
in this new world he would be going up or down.
His altimeter had switched on automatically.
That was a relief. A quick glance showed the
dial at 90,000 feet. The retarding jets were slowing
his drop, and Case had time for a look at strange terrain
below.
From his present height, it looked
like rolling country. There were hills, valleys,
a checkerboard of green and tan that might be cultivated
ground, a river.
But most important of all, there was
a city, a city of towers and pinnacles more impressive
than any on Earth. Three of those towers interested
Case. They stood apart, the center tower hundreds
of feet higher than the two which flanked it, and
all three were like fingers pointing directly at the
place where the cleft had been.
Case made decisions rapidly.
He had to get the ship out of the air before someone
saw it. First, though, he’d have to make
sure it would be air he stepped into when he got out.
He had a space suit in the forward locker, but putting
that on would slow him up.
An intake valve hissed away.
Soon, there would be something to test. Then
the hissing stopped. That was a good sign.
Pressure outside the ship was almost the same as inside.
There was an atmosphere.
But of what was that atmosphere composed?
That was now the big question. Case set the controls
and turned to the intake tank. With the turn of
a petcock, there came another hiss. Case got
out his cigarette lighter and flicked it into flame.
He held his breath as the flame wavered.
The air in the ship was being forced away from it.
But the flame did not die. Case sighed with relief.
If the atmosphere supported combustion, it would support
breathing.
With that important question answered,
Case turned to others. Where the devil was he?
He couldn’t answer that, but perhaps he might
discover a clue. The telecast was one way.
But the telecast had stopped ticking.
Case ran the thing over the entire frequency range
and got nothing. If that was a clue, it was a
negative one.
He had to think it over even as he
swung the ship into a long glide for a hill which
looked like it might have a good deal of growth on
it. Coming in low, Case saw that vegetation was
sparse. But there was not another ship in these
strange skies. He had to land soon.
Running his eyes over the landscape
below, Case discovered tall vegetation along the base
of another hill. It would have to do. He
came in low over the green, and swooped in for a landing.
Luckily, this ship could land on a handkerchief.
Strange trees, these which encircled
the tiny clearing. They were all shades of green,
taller and broader than séquoias, and yet more
like ferns in the delicacy of their gigantic fronds.
Case stepped through the forward hatch
into a warm, humid atmosphere that was quite comfortable.
He had thought of waiting for darkness, but there
was no way of knowing whether darkness ever came to
this strange world which seemed to exist in nowhere.
Too bad his compass was no good here.
There seemed to be no magnetic polarity. He’d
have to trust to his sense of direction.
The city Case had seen was at least
fifty miles away and past a couple of low-lying hills
that hid it from sight. That made it a good hike,
even for Case Damon’s long and muscular legs.
And after he got there, if he got
there? Case shrugged. Another bridge to
be crossed later. He hitched at his holstered
gun and started moving through the ferns.
He’d have to be careful; on
closer scrutiny from a low level the land had proved
to be cultivated. And that meant people about.
A humming drew his eyes skyward.
Huge ships of weird design were crisscrossing the
air above, obviously looking for something. Probably
himself, Case thought grimly. They must have cleared
the air for that blast. Now they’re out
in force. Still, there was a chance they’d
thought him one of their own pilots who’d disobeyed.
He’d come in too fast for anyone to have had
a good look at his ship, he hoped.
He jumped five feet at an ear-splitting
roar, whipped out his gun and had the stud under his
fingertip for a quick blast. He felt foolish when
the source of the roar turned out to be a purple bird
that soared up out of the foliage overhead.
There were other sounds now, from
small animals that scooted about on six legs and looked
like fur-bearing armadillos. Then the ferns were
behind him, and he was out onto a road that came over
the hill.
Case got off the road in a hurry.
Well tended fields lay on either side of it with spaced
rows of grain that was taller than he. He could
walk between the rows and be out of sight of the road.
He took a few quick steps, pushed
aside a stalk of grain, and tripped. His gasp
was involuntary but loud. For a second he lay
still, then got to his feet. He had tripped over
a root.
“Natsa!” a voice shouted.
There was the thump of heavy feet behind him.
Case whirled. Just in time.
A big orange-skinned man in a metallic suit came bursting
out of the next row of grain. He took one look
at Case, and reached for the holstered weapon at his
side.
But few men could outdraw and out-shoot
Case Damon. A flash of green played about his
opponent’s head. And then there was no head.
“Natsa to you,” Case grunted at the body.
He was used to death in many forms,
and it upset him not at all to handle the body.
The fellow had been about his own size. At least
he would now have a suit that wouldn’t attract
attention. He decided to keep his own gun rather
than trust a strange one, but he exchanged holsters
with the corpse.
“Now, if only Natsa doesn’t
show up, I’ll make tracks out of here,”
Case said to himself.
But the Damon luck was wearing thin.
There were shouts from along the road. More than
one voice now, and all using a strange language.
They must have come over from the field across the
way, Case thought.
He flattened himself against the last
row of stalks and took a deep breath. With the
first sight of somebody coming through the row of
grain, he stepped out and onto the road.
There were three of them, all big
men, and none were looking his way. By the time
their cries of consternation rose at sight of the body,
Case was across the road and into the grain on the
other side.
He ran until his heart began to hammer,
and then he slowed to a fast walk. When the field
curved around a bend, he breathed easier.
Along the road there was activity
now, and the sound of vehicles moving fast. They
were looking for him. Then the field ended, and
Case was in a grove of wild fruit. Heavy brush
caught at his face, but he stuck close to the road.
Voices drifted in toward him.
He had to chance a look. Stretching himself full
length, Case parted thick brambles and peered out.
More men, all wearing the same metallic suits.
This group was walking slowly, munching on the same
sort of fruit that grew overhead.
Case thought it over. He didn’t
have a chance. His own tanned skin would stand
out like a sore thumb against the orange brightness
of these people.
But he was not without resources.
The fruit had given him an idea. It dripped an
orange liquid. If the stuff was good enough to
eat, it certainly couldn’t hurt to smear a little
over his face and hands!
When he hit the road again, Case Damon
was as orange as any man he’d so far seen in
this new world. Maybe he wouldn’t get away
with it, but he had to try.
Vehicles sped by and nobody gave him
a second glance. So far, so good. When he
passed the group he had seen from the grove without
drawing undue attention, he relaxed.
A long row of chugging trucks rumbled
by, apparently loaded with produce for the city.
Case looked up and a man on the back of the last one
waved and shouted to him. Case waved back and
the truck slowed.
He wished now that he hadn’t
waved. The truck had stopped, and the man in
back was waiting to give him a hand up. Too late
to back down now. Case took a short run and swung
aboard and the truck moved on. The man who’d
helped him up said something.
“Hmmm?” Case hummed.
If this fellow made a suspicious move he’d have
to slug him.
“Kanato?” the man said.
It was a question. They came over the brow of
a small hill and the man pointed to the city in the
distance. He was asking if Case was bound for
the city.
Case bobbed his head. He was
going to play dumb. He pointed at his mouth and
shook his head. His companion nodded understandingly,
but wanted to get chummy anyway. Then he looked
down and saw Case’s holster and changed his
mind.
Small cars of a strange sort were
buzzing past them, going away from the city.
They were filled with orange-skinned men carrying shoulder
arms. Probably Kanato police on their way to
investigate a very recent killing. Case gave
silent thanks he had got this ride.
There was a tense moment at the gate
of the city. Heavily armed men swarmed about.
But produce trucks seemed to be exempt from close
scrutiny.
Case’s companion traded jeers
and coarse laughter with the gendarmerie, and the
truck rolled on down a wide avenue. The old feud
between city dweller and rustic, Case guessed.
He noticed that the citizens of Kanato wore clothing
of high lustre and fine mesh.
They must be a scrappy people.
Almost every male citizen carried a gun. His
own wouldn’t be noticed, then.
Before a huge building, the truck
stopped. The end of the journey. Case hopped
off, nodded his thanks for the lift and started walking.
Those three towers were at the edge
of the city. Case made his way through a crowded
square, turned down a fern-lined street and headed
for them. From behind him a light breeze came,
wafting a familiar aroma to his nostrils.
Cigarette smoke! But until now
he had seen nobody smoking. Acting on impulse,
Case drifted over to one side of the walk and bent
as though to tie his shoe.
Men walked past. Case straightened
up, got a look at the backs of their necks, and gasped.
White as white as his own skin. These
were no inhabitants of this world, but men of his
own kind!
There were three of them. And
now, as they finished lighting up, they were talking
plain Earth English with as little concern as though
they were strolling down the street of any Earth city.
“By the time we get back, there
ought to be news,” one of the men said.
“Yeah. That last one should have brought
them around.”
The second voice was another surprise.
It stirred memories. Somewhere, Case had heard
that coarse tone before. He thought hard.
Sure, now he had it. Pete Engels,
hotshot engineer cashiered out of the space fleet
and turned adventurer bum. The other two men Case
didn’t know.
“I’d give plenty for a
look at Davisson’s face now,” Engels was
saying. Davisson was commander of the moon base,
to which Engels had been attached.
“He’s probably running
around in circles,” one of Engels’ companions
laughed.
“Yeah. And don’t
think he ain’t number one on my list when we
take over.”
A sudden humming filled the air as
they drew closer to the three towers, and Case stopped
listening to the conversation for a moment. The
man ahead had paused briefly, but they were now moving
on.
Pedestrian traffic had fallen off,
Case noticed. He and the three ahead were the
only ones heading for the towers. It looked like
the towers were out of bounds for most citizens.
A moment later he was certain of that, when he saw
the number of armed guards around the entrance gate.
But the guards didn’t stop Engels
and the pair with him. They jerked their heads
in a brief greeting and walked right through the cordon.
Case paused, let them get inside the building.
Here goes, he thought. Nothing
like a bold front in a spot like this. He stepped
forward briskly.
But the bold front wasn’t working.
Hostile eyes swung his way. Fingers came down
to rest on triggers that could send death winging.
Case looked up, pretended to be startled.
A foolish grin spread over his face. Would they
believe he’d been day-dreaming? They would.
He was turning around and walking back the way he’d
come and nobody was stopping him.
He cursed under his breath. Somehow
he had to get inside that tower Pete Engels had entered.
But how?
An inviting doorway yawned back along
the avenue, and Case stepped inside. He looked
at his watch. A few hours left until the next
blast. He’d have to move fast.
Fighting his way into the tower was
absolutely out of the question. He’d never
get past the guards. Maybe not, but he was sure
going to try. This time the grin on his face
was far from foolish.
Case Damon had an idea, and he wasn’t
one to let time slip by before he acted on it.
The idea was simple, so simple it might even work.
An orange dye had gotten him into
Kanato. But it would never get him into that
tower. Yet, Pete Engels and his pals had walked
right in. Maybe that was one place where an Earth
complexion would turn the trick.
Case got out his handkerchief, spit
on it a few times and started rubbing. It was
slow work, but he’d better not leave any telltale
streaks.
When he came out of the doorway a
few minutes later, he had left behind him a handkerchief
and as much of the dye as he could remove. Lucky
he’d always been an outdoor man. Whatever
was left would be too faint to show against his tan
skin.
His walk was not too slow, not too
fast. His step was the step of a man who knew
he wasn’t going to have any trouble. The
guards looked up and saw him coming.
Case kept his head down as though
in deep thought. They could see his color, but
not his face. His right hand swung close to his
holster. Now a booted foot came into his line
of vision.
The foot moved toward him. Case
bobbed his head up and down briefly, much as Engels
had done, and kept walking. The guard hesitated,
stepped out of his way. He was through the cordon
and going up through the entrance.
Then the yelling came from behind
him. They had caught on.
One leap took Case through the doorway.
Over his head, a pellet burst. They were shooting
now. Somewhere in the building, a warning whistle
cut loose.
He ran down a long corridor, saw figures
pop out of a room ahead. But there was a corridor
running crossways. Case skidded, made a fast turn
and pounded along that one. Plenty of shouting
now. It sounded like he had an army after him.
These halls were too long. He
was a dead pigeon if he didn’t find a place
to hide soon. There were plenty of doors, but
he didn’t know which one to try. Then a
series of the deadly pellets broke around him and
made up his mind. The next door was the one.
It opened into a big room filled with
electrical equipment. Case barged around something
that looked like a big transformer, and headed for
a door at the other end. The door swung toward
him, disclosing a mass of men.
His gun was in his hand now and spitting
death. But there were too many. Their corpses
blocked the doorway. He couldn’t get around
them.
Something heavy cracked against the
base of his skull and knocked him to his knees.
Half dazed, he turned and tried to fire and was buried
beneath an avalanche of charging men. The gun
was knocked out of his hand.
“Hey!” A startled voice
came through the roaring in Case Damon’s ears.
“Hey! This guy is white!”
Rough hands twisted his arms behind
Case and other hands hauled him to his feet.
He shook his head to clear it and found himself facing
Pete Engels. There was instant recognition.
“Case Damon. Well, I’ll
be! I told Yuna to warn those guards, but I didn’t
really think you’d make it.”
“I didn’t, did I?” Case said bitterly.
“What is it?” A voice said from behind
Engels. “What is going on?”
That was in Earth English, but with
a heavy accent. The voice belonged to an orange
skinned man who came through as the guards parted.
This was someone of importance, Case realized.
His metallic suit gleamed with the lustre of spun
gold, and it filled his big body as though it had been
moulded to it.
“Meet Case Damon,” Engels
said with mock ceremony. “Damon, this is
Yuna, ruler of Kanato and soon to be half ruler of
the Earth.”
Haughty yellow eyes flashed at Engels
and stilled his tongue. Then the eyes swung back
to Case and gave him a thorough scrutiny.
“So this is the one of whom
we were warned,” Yuna said. “I can
see why the Earthlings do not surrender so quickly.”
“They’ll surrender all right,” Engels
snarled.
Case saw an opening and lashed out
with his foot. The kick caught Engels low in
the belly and drew a yell of pain. A fist thudded
against Case’s jaw.
“You rat,” Case said through
drawn lips. “You’d sell out your own
mother.”
“For the right price,”
Engels admitted, cheerfully. He turned to Yuna.
“What’ll we do with him?”
“Put him with the rest. We can dispose
of them later.”
As a cell it was not too bad.
But there was a stench that was nauseating. Case
adjusted his eyes to the gloom and looked about.
There were bunks along one wall, a
few of them occupied. With the shutting of the
door behind Case, men stirred. Two thin legs swung
over the top of a bunk, followed by an equally thin
body.
“Take your gloating elsewhere,
Engels,” a sharp voice said.
“The name is not Engels. It’s Case
Damon.”
“Huh?”
There were more legs now, four pairs.
Men were spluttering excitedly. Thin bodies slid
out of bunks and feet came toward Case. There
was one man he knew, Burnine, the pilot of the Mars-Venus
liner which had vanished.
“Case Damon! I knew sooner or later someone
would get through.”
“Don’t let your hopes
run away with you,” Case said. “I’m
the only one, and it looks like I’ll be the
last.”
Burnine was crying, definitely and
without shame. He fought to bring himself under
control.
“They’re going to get
away with it,” he said, brokenly. Long
imprisonment had broken him down.
“Maybe,” Case said.
“It all depends on what the chances are of getting
out of this cell before the next blast. The Council
hasn’t given up yet.”
“I know. But that humming
means they’re building up voltage for the next
shot. It won’t be long.”
“How do you know?”
“Engels. He comes down
here every couple of days to tell us we’re chumps
for not coming over to his side. Meanwhile, we’ve
learned what goes on. In a year you can learn
a lot if you keep your ears open.”
“A year,” Case mused. “Since
those liners disappeared.”
“Yeah. Engels and his pals
were on the one I was piloting. They stuck guns
in our ribs and took over and brought us here.”
“There are a couple of things
I’ve got to know,” Case said. “First,
what kind of weapon are they using? Second, where
are we?”
“I can’t quite answer
the first. And I don’t know exactly where
we are, but I know how we got here. Maybe that
will help.
“It seems that someone on Earth
was experimenting with a new force. He discovered
that he could put a crack in the curvature of space.
Once he got through that crack and found Yuna, he
realized that with this weapon of Yuna’s he
could take over the Earth. I don’t know
who this person is, but Engels is working for him.
So are a lot of other people.”
“What about these towers?”
“They work automatically.
Two of them contain the apparatus for building up
energy. The blast is fired from this one.
It’s all timed to fit with the machine on Earth.
That’s why it takes exactly twelve hours.”
“Do you know where the main works are?”
“On the level below this one.
But what’s the difference? We’ll never
get out of here.”
“Maybe not. But we can sure try. Are
you game?”
Burnine stared at him, looked around
at the other three. Their thin shoulders had
lost some of the sag. A spark had been kindled
in their eyes.
“What can we lose?” Burnine said.
They could tell when Engels started
down the corridor outside their cell. His feet
made a heavy sound. There were several guards
with him.
“What do you guys want?” Engels shouted
through the door.
“I’ve got a message for your boss,”
Case shouted back.
“Go ahead. I can hear you.”
“It’s in writing,” Case called.
Engels laughed sourly. “This
better not be a trick. You’re a dead tomato
if it is. Back away from the door.”
He came through, closely followed
by four guards. All of them carried guns in their
hands, but when they saw Case in the middle of the
room with the men behind him, they put up the weapons
and moved forward.
“Where is it?” Engels asked.
“Here.” Case put his hand out and
Engels reached.
Too late, Engels and the guards realized
that there were only three men behind Case. From
behind the open door, Burnine’s frail body hurtled
and crashed into the guards, knocking them off balance.
Engels was thrown forward, his chin
meeting Case’s fist on its way upward.
There was the crack of a neck breaking. Case had
put all his strength into that punch.
Burnine kicked at a guard’s
head, dropped down to one knee and came up with a
gun. The other guards didn’t have a chance.
Burnine peppered them with pellets that ate away flesh
wherever they hit.
“Let’s go,” Case
snapped. “You take the lead. And don’t
stop to argue if anyone gets in our way.”
Then they were racing down the long
corridor toward a heavy door at the end. A pair
of guards looked up and saw them coming and died before
their hands could reach their guns. Case paused
to pick up a heavy weapon that leaned against a wall.
Another guard stuck his head out of
a side room and popped it back in. Within a second,
warning whistles pierced the air. But over the
whistles Case could still hear a hum.
“Not much time,” Burnine
panted. He was completely winded.
A stairway made a dark opening and
they plunged downward through it. The sound of
motors pounded up toward them. They were in darkness
for long minutes. And then the darkness gave
way to light and they were racing into a vast chamber
filled with scurrying men.
Case brought up the heavy gun he was
carrying, triggered it and was gratified by the streak
of flame that issued from the muzzle. But other
guns were popping steadily. Behind Case, a man
went down.
There was a sharpshooter behind a
bank of instruments, and Case took steady aim.
The sharpshooter dropped. Meanwhile, Burnine and
the other two had not been idle. They had both
flanks cleared.
“This is it,” Burnine
gasped. “Good thing Engels liked to brag.
That big panel is the converter.”
He reached out a bony hand for a maze
of wires, but Case stopped him.
“Wait. We don’t want
to do just a temporary job. And we don’t
want to die here either. There’s a debt
I’ve got to settle on Earth. What are our
chances of getting a ship?”
“Not much,” Burnine told
him. “The liner we came in is in a hangar
beyond the last tower.”
“Close enough,” Case snapped.
“You four watch the doors. They’ve
got a tank of atomic fuel here, and if I know my stuff
I ought to be able to rig up something that will do
a permanent job on this installation.”
Only two of them came up out of the
lower level Burnine and Case Damon.
Behind them, they left a pile of corpses. Burnine
was kept going by sheer strength of will, lugging
a shoulder gun that weighed half as much as he.
The corridor on the main level was
packed with armed men, but they cleared it by keeping
a blast of fire always before them. Men melted
away into side rooms, slid down intersecting halls.
But at the entrance, the big door was closed.
“Looks like we’re stuck,”
Burnine grunted. “We can’t burn our
way through that. And if we move, we’ll
have a hundred men popping out again behind our backs.”
“We’ll try one of these
rooms back here,” Case said. “Always
the chance of it having a window.”
The first room they tried was a blank.
So were the next couple. While Case kept the
corridor cleared, Burnine stuck his head inside and
investigated.
“This one,” he said at
his fourth try. “Bars on the window, but
maybe we can burn them off. Looks like a council
room.”
They darted inside, slammed the door
behind them. Outside there was the pounding of
many feet. While Burnine watched the door, Case
turned his fire on the barred windows.
One of the bars turned red, glowed
bright and started to melt. But it was going
to be a long job. And they hadn’t much time
now. Case snatched a quick look at his watch
and saw there was but an hour left.
“Damon!” That was from
the corridor. Yuna’s voice. Too calm,
Case thought. Yuma had a card up his sleeve.
“Better give up!”
“Make us,” Case called.
“There is a telecast machine in the room,”
came the reply. “Turn it on.”
Yuna wasn’t just wasting time.
He knew something. Case hesitated, looked around
and sighted the machine. It was the familiar kind,
but with an unfamiliar attachment. He fiddled
with it, got it going.
“Damon,” said a voice
he remembered but could not identify. “Turn
up the video.”
There was a threat in the words.
But Case Damon was beyond being frightened. He
had nothing to lose. Only curiosity made him flick
the switch.
There was that room again, with its
unpainted walls. There was the couch. And
there was Karin!
“We decided to save her on the
chance you’d get through,” said the voice.
A moment later, a man walked into view.
It was Vargas. Somehow, Case
was not surprised. It all made sense. Vargas
had not wanted to join the Council. He’d
held out for concessions, and those concessions had
included a certain freedom from supervision of his
country.
“Listen,” Vargas said.
“It is possible you have managed to do some harm
there. If so, undo it at once.”
His hand dipped into his pocket and
came out with a gun. He calmly pointed it at
Karin’s head. With a sinking heart, Case
realized that this time there would be no interference,
this time Vargas would go through with it.
“All right,” Case said. “You
win.”
He turned away from the video, and
swung his gun around at Burnine. He hated to
do this, but it had to be done. His eyes avoided
Burnine’s as he said:
“Open that door.”
But before Burnine could comply with
the order, there was a shout from the machine.
Case whirled, startled. The room in the fishing
cabin had erupted into a maelstrom of struggling men.
He saw Vargas go down, smothered by blue-jacketed
men of Earth Intelligence.
And then there was Cranly, his broad
back bent over Karin’s figure on the couch.
He straightened with a length of rope in his hands.
She was free. Cranly turned and his face filled
the screen.
“Nice going, Case. I had
a hunch Vargas was behind this, but I couldn’t
move until I had him dead to rights. But it was
you who helped me to fight the Council for the time
I needed.”
“How much time have I got?” Case wanted
to know.
“Not much. The Council
can’t take a chance on having another city blasted.
Within fifteen minutes they will destroy the machine
Vargas built.”
“That’s time enough,”
Case said. “Give me a look at Karin.”
He got his look, and then turned to
Burnine. Yuna and his men had got the news elsewhere,
apparently, for they were hammering at the door.
But the lock was holding.
Together now, Case and Burnine turned
their guns on the bars of the window. It went
faster now. One bar melted away, another, still
another. There was room enough for Burnine, then
room enough for Case’s broad shoulders.
They dropped through and hit the ground,
running. With Burnine leading the way and Case
keeping him covered from behind, they raced around
the edge of the tower, cut down a pair of surprised
guards who weren’t expecting them here, and
skirted the outside tower.
Then the hangars were only yards away
and they were sprinting toward them. Now there
were no more men to block their way. Only time
was the enemy.
And time ticked away on Case’s
watch as he and Burnine strapped themselves into their
seats. Five minutes was all the time they could
hope for. With his own ship that would have been
enough, but this space liner was not built for speed.
Case had deliberately spoken with
more confidence than he’d felt. If that
was to be his last look at Karin, he’d wanted
her to have a smile on her face.
“All set,” Burnine said.
His skin was drawn tight over the long bones in his
face.
They took off with all jets wide open.
From stem to stern, the big liner shuddered.
Even with all power on, they lifted slowly. From
overhead, a small attack ship flashed in. Fire
darted at them, slid harmlessly off the liner’s
duralloy plates.
“Wish that was our biggest worry,”
Case said. He could still grin weakly.
Now their speed was mounting steadily.
The altimeter climbed past 60,000 and kept going.
Case kept his eyes glued to the vision plate.
Now was the time. Thunder rumbled,
roared in their ears. Far, far below and behind
them there was another roar. Then came the single
blinding flash that spelled the end of Kanato, and
afterward a billowing mushroom cloud. It was
the end of Yuna and his devilish weapon.
Over them, in the heart of the brightness,
there was a black speck. It grew larger as they
roared toward it. It was a black cleft in the
azure. Case flashed a desperate glance at his
watch. Seconds left, that was all.
With a prayer in their hearts, and
with all jets blazing, they aimed for the blackness.
It grew smaller, almost too small. There was a
rumble of thunder. And they were through, into
a black sky dotted with a myriad of stars.
Case reached up and flicked on the
liner’s telecast. It warmed up slowly,
first the click coming through, and then the audio.
Last of all, and best of all, the video.
Karin’s face filled the screen.
She was smiling, none the worse for her experience.
Her hair was in disorder but it still looked like spun
gold to Case. He could almost taste those velvety
lips.
“Be with you soon, honey,”
Case said. “We’ve got a honeymoon
to finish.”
Her face beckoned him Earthward.