The Onslaught from Rigel/Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIII: Into the Depths
The Monitor turned again, speeding back toward the remaining Lassan ships; with a startling shock of surprise, Gloria noticed that there were only two. Down below them one of the last three American rocket-cruisers had spread her wings and was gliding gently toward the earth. Like the Monitor's, her crew had evidently found the lightning flash worthless at the enormous altitude and was abandoning the battle till conditions became more favorable. The other rocket remained faithful; turned as they turned and charged up with them toward the last of the Lassans.

It was a weird scene. They had climbed so far that the earth was now perceptibly round beneath them; a vague line marked the westward progress of the sunset and beyond it the sun, an immense yellow ball, set with a crown of vividly red flames, hung in the inky-black heavens. On the opposite side, the stars, more brilliant and greater in number than any ever before viewed by the eye of man, made the sky a carpet of light across which the green globes moved like shadows, their undersides illumined by the sun.

As the Monitor approached, the nearest globe seemed to be turning on its axis. Suddenly, out of the side that faced them, came the quick, stabbing beam of the light-ray, like the flicker of a sword. It struck the Monitor full on the prow. There was a burning rain of sparks past the windows; the rocket-ship leaped and quivered, and those within felt, rather than saw, something give. Then, with a tremendous explosion, all the more horrible because utterly without sound, the great globe that had thrown the ray, burst into fragments.

And at the same moment the Monitor began to fall. Down, down, down went the rocket-cruiser with the round ball of the earth rising to meet them at a speed incredible. The sun went out; they were swallowed in a purple twilight as they plunged. The earth changed from a ball to a dish, from a dish to a plane, from a plane to a dark mass without form, and in the mass vague lights and glimmerings of water came out, and still their course was unchecked, still Sherman fought frantically with the useless controls.

Desperately Murray pressed the firing keys of the stern-rockets; unchecked she drove on, almost straight down, plunging to certain destruction. The earth loomed nearer, nearer, the end seemed inevitable—.

Then Gloria saved them. In some moment of inspiration, she threw on the searchlight; and the automatic connection fired the gravity-beam. There was a shattering report; the course of the Monitor was halted, and bruised and broken, she tumbled over and over to the ground, safe but ruined.

“Suffering Lassans!” said Ben Ruby, as they picked themselves out of the wreckage, “but that was a jar. What hit us, anyway?”

Sherman pointed to Gloria, breathlessly. “Give the little girl a hand,” he ejaculated. “She sure pulled us out of the fire that time.”

“I'll say she did,” said Murray, “but what happened, anyway? I thought that light-ray of theirs wouldn't work on these ships.”

“It won't—in air,” said Sherman ruefully, surveying the wreck of the Monitor. “But the air blankets down the effect a lot. Out there we got the whole dose. Even then it shouldn't have hurt us so seriously, but I expect a lot of our lead sheathing got jarred loose when we went through those yellow rays and when they let that light-ray go, she leaked all over the place. Wonder what made that Lassan ship blow up like that, though? I thought she sure had us.”

“Oh,” said Ben, “I think maybe I did that. When the light-ray came on it occurred to me that the gravity-beam might go down their beam of light just as fast as it would down ours, and they must have a port-hole or something through their gravity-screen or they couldn't let the ray out. So I just let them have it.”

“Boy, you sure saved the lives of four of Uncle Sam's flying men that time. About one second more of that stuff and we'd have cracked up right there. Look at the front of our bus. The outer plating is all caved in and the inner is starting to go.”

“She is pretty well used up isn't she? What gets me though, is that there's one more of those things loose.”

“Look!” cried Gloria suddenly, pointing upward.

Far in the zenith above them they saw a point of light; a point that grew and spread and became definite as a great star; then it became a shooting star, plunging earthward, and so great was its speed that even as they watched they could make out a green fragment, flame-wrapped in its midst.

“The last one!” said Sherman. “Thank God for that. Wonder how they got her?”

“Wonder what we do next,” remarked Murray, practically.

They looked about them. They were on a hillside in a little clearing in a high, narrow valley. On every side were woods, dark and impenetrable. Just below they could hear the purl of a brook, and the trees about them were bare with the dark bareness of spring, a few fugitive buds being the only announcement that the season of growing was at hand. No landmarks, no roads were visible, and the sky was darkening fast.

“The question,” said Gloria, “is not where do we go, but where are we going from.”

“It might be most anywhere,” remarked Murray. “Adirondacks, Catskills, or even Laurentians. I don't think we got far enough west for it to be the Blue Ridge or the Appalachians, but there's no way of telling.”

“Well,” Gloria offered, “I've been in a lot of mountains in my day, but I never saw any where following a stream didn't take you somewhere sooner or later. I vote we trail along with that brook there and see what happens.”

“Bright thought,” commented Ben. “Let's see what we can dig out of the wreck by way of weapons.”

“What for? There aren't any animals, and they couldn't hurt you if there were. If we meet any of the Lassans any weapon you got out of that mess wouldn't be much use. Wish we had a flashlight though.”

Treading carefully, but with a good deal of noise and confusion, they began to crash their way through the underbrush along the bank of the stream. At the foot of the valley it dived over a diminutive waterfall and then tumbled into another similar brook. Along the combined streams ran a road—a dirt road originally, now long untraveled, muddy and bad, but still a road.

An hour's walking brought them around the foot of another mountain and into a valley where the road divided before a projecting buttress of rock. A teetering sign-post stood at the fork. With some trouble, and after getting himself immersed to the knees in the ditch, Murray managed to reach it and straining his eyes in the starlight, made out what it said. “THIS WAY TO HAMILTON'S CHICKEN DINNERS. 1 MILE” it read. With a snort of disgust he hurled the deceitful guidepost into the ditch and joined the others.

“Toss a coin,” someone suggested. No coins. A knife was flipped up instead. It fell heads and in accordance with its decision they took the road to the right. It led them along beside the stream for a while, then parted company with it and began to climb, and they soon found themselves at the crest of the hill. The night had become darker and darker, clouding over. But for the road they would have been completely lost. Finally, after skirting the hillcrest for a distance, the road dipped abruptly, and as it did so, they passed out of the forest into a region cleared but not cultivated, with numerous close-cut stumps coming right to the roadside.

“But for the fact that it's a long ways away,” remarked Sherman, “I would say that this was the district around the Lassan headquarters.”

“What makes you think it's a long ways away?” asked Gloria. “Do you know where we are? Neither do I.”

“By the nine gods of Clusium, I believe that's it, at that!” said Sherman suddenly as the road turned past a place where a long scar of earth ran up the hillside, torn and blackened. “Look—that looks exactly like the result of one of our gravity-beam shots! And there—isn't that the door?”

They were on the hillside now, directly above the place he had indicated. From above and in the darkness it appeared as a cliff, breaking down rapidly to the valley, but Sherman led them to one side, straight down the hill and in another moment they were at its base. The great door through which the green balls had poured out that evening stood before them, a mighty arch reaching up into the dimness—and it was open.

“Looks like the boys haven't come home to supper yet,” said Gloria in an awed whisper, contemplating the gigantic arch and the dark passage into which it led.

“Yes, and a lot of them aren't coming, either,” replied Murray in a similar tone. “But what do we do—make a break for it or poke in and see if anybody's home?”

“Listen, you three,” said Sherman. “You run along and build some more monitors and go get whatever comes out of here. Me, I'm going to have a whirl at this door. The swellest girl in the world is in there, or was, and I'm going to find her.”

“Nothing doing, old scout,” said Ben. “If you go in we go too—except Gloria.”

“What's the matter with me?” she demanded. “I'm made of the same kind of machinery you are, aren't I? And I'm good enough to run your foolish fighting-machine. Don't be a goop.” And she stepped forward.

The blue-domed hall that gave directly on the outer air had disappeared since Sherman and Marta Lami had raced out of it on that night that now seemed so long ago. In its place was an enormous tunnel, lined apparently with some metal, for its sides were smooth and shimmering. The portion they entered was lightless, but it curved as it ran down, and around the curve they could see the faint reflection of a light somewhere farther along the passage. Their feet echoed oddly in the enormous silence of the place. There seemed nothing alive or dead within.

“Boy,” whispered Murray to Gloria, “if one of those green globes comes back now it will squash us flatter than a false prosperity bankroll. This is the craziest thing we ever did.”

“Right,” she said, “but what the hell? I just came for the ride. Look, what's that?”

Before them, around the bend of the passage, they could see another door from which the light which glittered along the tunnel was streaming. In the opening stood a man, or what seemed to be a man, facing, fortunately, inwards.

After a moment's cautious peering, Sherman pronounced him one of the ape-man slaves. He wore a thought-helmet, and had some kind of a weapon in his hand. The four held a cautiously whispered conference.

“Listen,” said Sherman, “we've got to jump that baby before he does anything. I think he's got one of those small light-guns. Didn't know they trusted them to the slaves, but I suppose so many of the Lassans got shot up that they had to do it. Now, who's got a knife?”

A search of pockets revealed that Murray Lee had the only one in the company.

“Never mind,” said Sherman, “one is enough. Now we three will sneak up on him. The main thing is not to let him see us; if he makes a move, jump him quick. Remember there's a Lassan at the other end of the line, and the Lassan is getting everything he thinks. He doesn't think very fast, but don't take chances. If he sees us, you hop in, Murray, and cut the wire that leads out of his helmet and short-circuit it. They may have it fixed so that it won't short-circuit by now but I don't think so. If he doesn't see us before we jump him, clap your hands over his eyes, Ben, and I'll try to get the helmet off him and pass out some information to the Lassan at the other end that will keep him quiet. But the main thing is to get that gun first. Everybody understand?”

Three heads nodded in unison.

“All right. Come on.”

They crept up the passage together avoiding touching hands lest the ring of the metal should warn the sentry. As they approached they could see the room he looked out on was one of the familiar blue-domed halls; the passage ended sharply some six feet above its floor (“Taking no chances on more escapes” thought Sherman) and that the hall was of enormous size. There were machines in one corner of the floor. In another stood one of the green globes, half finished, with spidery trellises of red metal outlining what would be the surface of the sphere. Around it helmeted mechanical men came and went busily. The rest of the hall, for all its vast extent, was completely empty. At the far end was a row of doors; high on the far side an opening that looked like a door but had no obvious purpose.

This much they saw; then the sentry stirred as though to turn, and with a quick patter of feet, they were upon him. Before he had time to turn around Ben Ruby launched himself in a perfect football tackle for his legs, bringing the ape-man down with a crash. As he fell, Sherman snatched at the helmet, and Gloria the light-gun, which had dropped from his fingers, while Murray pinioned the struggling creature's arms. In a moment Sherman found the finger-holes in the helmet, pressed, and it came loose in his hands while the ape-man ceased to struggle.

“Let him up now, folks,” said Sherman, “give him a swift kick and point him toward the door. He won't come back.” And he rapidly adjusted the thought-helmet to his own head.

The Lassan at the other end was evidently disturbed. He had received the sound of the crash from the ape-man's brain and was asking querulously what it meant.

“What has happened?” the thought demanded insistently. “What is it that struck you? Have the fighting machines returned? Show a picture of what you see. Are the slaves escaping?”

“Everything's all right,” Sherman sent back. “Something broke loose down below and I stumbled trying to look at it.” He closed his eyes, forming a mental picture of the hall, with everything in order, then one of the passage, and reached up and detached the helmet, motioning to Murray for the knife. An instant's sawing and the device short-circuited with a fizzing of blue sparks.

“That will give that one a headache for a while,” he remarked. “We'll have to hurry, though. When he comes to he'll investigate and then there'll be trouble.”

“What's that?” asked Gloria, pointing across the hall at the aperture high up in the wall. A gleaming beak had been thrust out and the bright, intelligent eye of one of the dodo-birds was regarding them malevolently from the opening.

“Shoot, quick!” said Sherman, “For God's sake! They're telepathic. They'll have every Lassan in the place after us.”

Gloria fumbled a second with the gun, located the finger hole, sent a spurt of light flying across the room. It missed the head, but found its mark somewhere in the body of the bird, for there was a squawk and the head disappeared. Sherman vaulted down the six-foot drop, landing with a bang. “Come on,” he cried, “short-circuit every wire you can find; tear them loose if you can't cut them any other way—and make for the middle door at the back.”

They ran across the hall toward the work benches. It seemed enormous; like a race in a dream, in which one seems to make no progress whatever. But the workers did not appear to notice them. Driven by the thoughts of the controlling Lassans, they were incapable of attending to anything else unless it was forced on their attention.

As they approached the benches, however, one flat-faced ape-man almost ran into them. His face took on an expression of puzzled inquiry and at the same moment a figure whose carriage plainly showed it human stepped down toward them from the half-completed green globe. Gloria paused, leveled her light-gun at the ape-man, and his face vanished in a spray of fire. The human advanced slowly as though struggling against some force that was too strong for him. Sherman reached him first, wrenched the helmet from his head and dropping it on the floor stamped on it till the fine mechanism was irretrievably ruined. The mechanical human fell to his knees.

“Who are you?” he asked, “God?”

“We're all right,” said Murray, and Sherman, “which way to the living cages? Do you know Marta Lami?”

The man shook his head like one recovering from a dream. “I do' know,” he said, “they had the helmets on me for twenty periods. I do' know nothing. We came through that door. In the little automobiles.”

He indicated a door behind some of the machines.

Speed was urgent, but Sherman paused to instruct them briefly. “There'll be another sentry at the door. Pop him first, Gloria. Murray, take your knife, and Ben, get anything you can and cut all the wires on those birds around here. There are some more wires leading out of the machines. Be sure to get them, too. You might let loose something important. We'll try to get you another gun.”