The Onslaught from Rigel

by Fletcher Pratt

  CHAPTER XVI

  A Dash for Freedom

  They stood before the big machine. "You must do exactly as I tell you,"the Lassan informed him. "The machinery of this instrument is verydelicate. First, to enter, you must reach up there, by that fin, andinsert one of your fingers in the hole you will find."

  As he did so Sherman saw a door, so closely fitted that when it closedthere was no visible seam in the metal, swing back. They entered.

  The interior of the machine was disappointingly smaller than its outsidewould have led one to expect. A narrow walk, railed on both sides, leddown the center to the forward part. Along and slightly below this walkwas a row of instrument boards not unlike those of the mining machine,and at each of these one of the ape-men lay, helmet on head, apparentlyasleep. "No, not asleep," the Lassan told him, "they do not require it,like all our mechanical servants. They have merely been thrown into astate of nothingness till we need them."

  At the prow of the machine the cat-walk widened into a control chamber.One of the Lassan couches was here and above it dangled a helmet whichwas connected with those of the slumbering ape-men. The Lassan removedthe helmet he wore and exchanged it for this. Before this was anotherseat in which Sherman took his position. A complex of controlssurrounded him, most of them with the fingerholes which were theordinary Lassan method of handling machinery. Directly in front of thisseat was a ground-glass panel, now dark but which lit up as soon as theLassan had connected up his helmet, to give an accurate picture of thehall in which the fighting machine stood.

  "And can you see to a distance?" Sherman wondered. The answer hereceived was either confused or beyond his comprehension. He gatheredthat the four-winged birds of the Lassans acted in some way or other astheir scouts, remaining in a kind of telepathic communication with theLassan in the fighting-machine they were assigned to help....

  Sherman was surprised to find how readily the enormous bulk and weightof the thing handled under the Lassan's skilled control. He understood,without definitely asking, that the power was furnished by that"substance of life" to which the Lassan had referred; in some wayconnected with the absolute destruction of matter....

  The door swung open before them, leading them down a passage that wentup for some distance, then through an immense room where some twentymore of these giants lay stored, through it, and with surprisingsuddenness into the bright sunlight of a Catskill autumn day. As theyemerged the viewing plate swung round to show them three of the bigfour-winged birds go whirring up from some unseen covert, spiral intothe air above them and flying level with them, form an escort.

  Like most mail aviators, Sherman held a commission in the Army Reserveand had been to West Point. It was not difficult for him to guide thegreat fighting machine there, to find a field gun and ammunition andload it into the fighting machine. He knew very little about artilleryof any kind, but when they returned to the door of the Lassan city, hewas enough of a mechanic to get the shell into the breech and find thefiring mechanism. The gun went off with an earsplitting crack and theshell whistled down the valley to burst against a green hillside wherethey saw a graceful pine dip and fall to the shock.

  And just at that moment such a sense of disturbance and alarm invadedSherman's mind as he had never felt before. He looked around; the groupof Lassans who had poured out of the city to see the experiment with thegun was gathered in a tight knot, eagerly conversing with one another.The old Lassan who was conducting him turned round abruptly. "Into thefighting-machine at once," he commanded. "Our birds have sent a messagethat they are being attacked by some strange creature of your world."

  As Sherman climbed through the door of the fighting machine he glancedover his shoulder to see, far down the valley a black speck against thesky. An airplane? he wondered and it suddenly occurred to him thathowever great his thirst for information, he should have kept hisknowledge of guns from the Lassans; for if there were other people aliveout there in the world the day might come when it would be a battle--andexplosives were as new to the Lassans as the light-ray to the childrenof men.

  * * * * *

  After that it became a struggle.

  Sherman found he had to be constantly on his guard; constantly he had toconceal knowledge from the probing, insistent mind-helmets. The Lassansseemed interested in only one subject now: human methods of making war,human guns, human armor, human ships. Once they brought him anencyclopedia and as he held it on his lap went over every word of thearticles on military subjects, questioning and cross-questioning him.Fortunately, it was an old encyclopedia, and he knew so little about itthat in most cases he was able to throw open his mind and let hisopponents see that it lay empty on these subjects. And still they werenot satisfied.

  Yet if he gave information, he also received it; for little by little anunderstanding of the subtle material they called pure light became partof his mental equipment....

  One day, as he returned from a long session in the questioning room andhis cage clicked into position behind him, he was startled by a cheery,strident voice:

  "Well, well, if it isn't my old pal, Herbie. How's the boy?"

  Sherman looked around. In the next cage was Marta Lami, grinning andextending her hand through the bars.

  "For Heaven's sake!" he said, and took the offered hand. "How did youget here?"

  "How does anyone get anywhere around this place? In one of those patentFords of theirs."

  They gazed at each other for a moment, too glad of a familiar face tomake the ordinary banal remarks. The dancer spoke first:

  "Well, did they put the screws on you, big boy? They tried to pump meabout that accident but all I'd think about was how good Broadway wouldlook with all the lights, and they didn't make much out of me."

  "I'll say they put the screws on me. They've had me in there every daysince, trying to find out something about guns."

  "Guns? What t'hell! Ain't they got that light-ray? They could give cardsand spades to all the guns in the world with that. Wait a minute,though...." She thought for a moment. "Do you know, I think they'rescared yellow about something and I'll bet a hundred dollars against acase of bathtub gin I know what it is."

  "Yeh? Spring it. They keep pumping me and I'd like to know what it's allabout."

  The dancer glanced around. On the far side of her cage was aninattentive ape-man tossing his oil-ball about, across the corridoranother. "Come over here," she said. "They haven't put me next to youfor the fun of it, and they may have a dictaphone stuck aroundsomewhere."

  Obediently Sherman approached the bars of the cage.

  "They put me to work making those fighting-machines," she whispered,"you know, those big shiny things like we hid behind that day we triedto make the break. They had the helmets on me most of the time because Ididn't know how to use their tools and machines and I got a lot of whatthe guy that was running me was thinking about. He was damn nervousabout something, and I think it was because there are some peopleoutside going to take a whack at these babies."

  "People like--us?" asked Sherman.

  "I don't know. I didn't get it very good, but I think they're ordinaryflesh-and-blood people. They came and got a lot of the dopeys from theroom where I lived the other day and put them in one of the newfighting-machines and took it out. It never came back."

  "Mmm," said Sherman, "do you s'pose that was because it got cracked upor because they took it somewhere else?"

  "Dunno. But something's stirring."

  If the Lassans had set a dictaphone or some similar device to spy onthem there was no sign of it in the conversation which Sherman'sinterrogator held with him during the next period. But when he saw thedancer again, she beckoned him silently to her side, and producing fromone of her drawers a book, began to trace letters on it with afingernail dipped in grease.

  "_Be careful what you say_," she wrote. "_They know what we're talkingabout. They pumped me._"

  He nodded. "Well, kid," he said aloud. "What do you think? Will you eve
rmake dancers of these Lassans?"

  She giggled her appreciation of this remark for their unseen audience."I'll say I won't. They're too slow on their pins. Rather sit still andsuck up that green gooey than do anything. Cheez! What would I give forsome good music."

  "If I had a hand-organ now--" said Sherman. "We've got the monk." Henodded toward the ape-man, while with his own fingernail he wrote."_How's chances of getting out of here? Do you know the way?_"

  "I'll speak to one of the big shots tomorrow," she said aloud. "Maybe wecan get him to let us run a show." On the book's flyleaf appeared thewords. "_Only from the work-room on. It has an outside door._"

  "How would I do as a dancing partner?" asked Sherman. "_Good_," hewrote. "_I've doped out how to work these cars. Are you game for a tryat it?_"

  "You haven't got the figure," she said. "I'd rather dance with that oldpapa Lassan that does the questions." "_Sure_," she wrote, "_any timeyou say._"

  They broke off the conversation at this point, and Sherman set himselfto study out a plan for escape. He had watched the cars intently bothinside and out. The same needle arrangement that released the cage bars,apparently, actuated the mechanism of the car doors, and it was locatedinside. This meant that he could secure admission to the same car thatcarried the girl, and with luck, would be able to get out at the sametime she did. What to do after that was a matter of chance andinspiration. If only he had a weapon!... The oil and grease balls. Theywould do to throw--might spoil a Lassan's aim or check the rush of oneof the ape-man servants.

  * * * * *

  As finally arranged between them the plan was that he was to get in thesame car she did. She would tap on the back of her compartment to assurehim that everything was in order, and tap again when the door opened forher to get out. He would leave her a second to get her bearings, thenthey would make a rush of it. He weighed the usefulness of the knife asa weapon and discarded it--too clumsy for throwing and in a closestruggle with one of the ape-men slaves, made of metal like himself, itwould be quite useless. But another tool, rather like a short-handledand badly shaped hammer, he did take.

  At last the hour arrived. The car ran down the line of cages, paused;opened before Marta Lami's. She smiled at him, nodded, and purposelydelayed getting in. He fumbled desperately with his needle, fearing hecould not make it, then it went home, the little arm at the bottom ofthe car swung out and its door opened. As he stepped in he heard thedancer's tap of encouragement from the compartment ahead.

  Evidently it was some little distance to the work room. The car madeseveral stops on the way, but Sherman, braced and ready, listened invain for the tap that would tell him they had reached their destination.At last it came; two soft knocks. He bent, thrust home the needle. Thedoor slid back, and he stepped out into one of the blue-domed rooms. Hiseyes caught a fantastic maze of machinery, helmeted ape-men busy at itand beyond them the huge forms of several uncompleted fighting machines.

  The dancer gripped his hand. "This way," she said, pointing along thewall past the machines. "Take it easy; don't run till they notice us."

  A feverish passion for activity burned in him. "Hurry, hurry," calledevery sense, but he fought it down and followed Marta Lami down the lineof machines, past the impassive ape-men.

  They made over half the distance to the door before they were spotted.Then one of the Lassans, who had sauntered over to the car stop,evidently expecting Marta, missed her and looked around. The firstwarning the two had was a sudden flickering of blue lights here andthere among the machines. "Come on," shouted Marta. "There she goes!"

  Sherman looked over his shoulder, saw the Lassan tugging at his pouchfor a ray-gun, and paused to throw one of the oil-balls, straight andtrue, as one pitches a baseball. It struck the elephant-man squarelybetween the eyes, at the base of his trunk. He squealed with pain andfright and dropping the ray-gun, ran behind a machine. For a second allthe eyes in the room turned toward him; then with another flickering oflights, the hunt was up.

  Sherman saw a helmeted ape-man at a machine just ahead turn slowlyround, gazing vacantly, and then fling himself at Marta. As sheside-stepped to avoid his rush, Sherman swung his left from the heels.The metal fist took the slave flush on the jaw, and down he went with acrash. The dazzling spout of a ray-gun shot past them, spatteringagainst the wall in a shower of stars, and they had reached the exit.

  "Come, oh come!" shouted Marta, tugging at the heavy door. Shermanpulled with her, and at that moment another ray-gun flash struck it,just over their heads. The door gave suddenly; they tumbled through.

  Into a gray twilight they struggled, shot with little dashes of rainthat had beaten the valley to mud.

  "Cheez!" said Marta, struggling through the gelatinous stuff. "If I livethrough this, I'll live to be a million."

  "No, not that way," called Sherman. "They'll look for us down the valley.Come on, up the hill."

  He pulled her upward. They slipped, stumbled, slid, gripped the stump ofa tree, then another. Below and behind them came a confused rumble andthey heard the great door swing open again. A burst of light, like astar in the cloudy dark, broke out, and Sherman pulled the girl downbehind the stump of a huge tree.

  "What do you s'pose they'll bring after us?" he whispered, his lipsclose to her ear.

  "Dunno. One of the little machines maybe. Look."

  Sherman peered cautiously round his side of the stump. In the valleybeneath them, shining brilliantly in the pure white light it hadreleased, was one of the metal fish--but a smaller one than the usualfighting machine, and without the projecting trunk.

  "We've been working on them for a while," the girl whispered. "I don'tknow what they're for, but they aren't fighting machines."

  Remembering how the vision plate of the fighting machine he hadcontrolled had reflected every object within range, Sherman made himselfsmall behind the stump. The machine below was probably trying to locatethem in the light it had released.

  "Wonder they don't bring the birds out," he thought, and as if in answerto this idea, one of the four-winged creatures strutted around themachine, blinking in the light, then took off with a whir of wings, andspiralled upward. The light went out, reappeared as a beam, pointingdown the valley and the machine moved off, slowly sweeping the sides ofthe hills with its pencil of illumination. He could see the multipleglow of the tubes at the stern, greenly phosphorescent, as the machineprogressed. High above the bird screamed shrilly.