Buck Rogers’ Complete Adventures (Pulp Heroes and Villains)

by Philip Francis Nowlan

  Feverishly I looked around for some formation of branches against which I could rest the pistol, for I had to aim most carefully. At last I found one. Patiently I sighted on the hulk of the ship far above us, aiming at the far side of it, at such an angle as would, so far as I could estimate, bring my bullet path through the forward repellor beam. At last the sights wavered across the point I sought and I pressed the button gently.

  For a moment we gazed breathlessly.

  Suddenly the ship swung bow down, as on a pivot, and swayed like a pendulum. Wilma screamed in her excitement.

  “Oh Tony, you hit it! You hit it! Do it again; bring it down!”

  We had only one more rocket of extreme range between us, and we dropped it three times in our excitement in inserting it in my gun. Then, forcing myself to be calm by sheer will power, while Wilma stuffed her little fist into her mouth to keep from shrieking, I sighted carefully again and fired.

  The elapsed time of the rocket’s invisible flight seemed an age.

  Then we saw the ship falling. It seemed to plunge lazily, but actually it fell with terrific acceleration, turning end over end, its disintegrator rays, out of control, describing vast, wild arcs, and once cutting a gash through the forest less than two hundred feet from where we stood.

  The crash with which the heavy craft hit the ground reverberated from the hills—the momentum of eighteen or twenty thousand tons, in a sheer drop of seven thousand feet. A mangled mass of metal, it buried itself in the ground, with poetic justice, in the middle of the smoking, semi-molten field of destruction it had been so deliberately ploughing.

  The silence, the vacuity of the landscape was oppressive as the last echoes died away.

  Then far down the hillside, a single figure leaped exultantly above the foliage screen. And in the distance another, and another.

  In a moment the sky was punctured by signal rockets. One after another the little red puffs became drifting clouds.

  “Scatter! Scatter!” Wilma exclaimed. “In half an hour there’ll be an entire Han fleet here from Nu-Yok, and another from Bah-Flo. They’ll get this instantly on their recordographs and location finders. They’ll blast the whole valley and the country for miles beyond. Come, Tony. There’s no time for the gang to rally. See the signals. We’ve got to jump. Oh, I’m so proud of you!”

  Over the ridge we went, in long leaps towards the east, the country of the Delawares.

  From time to time signal rockets puffed in the sky. Most of them were the “red warnings,” the “scatter” signals. But from certain of the others, which Wilma identified as Wyoming rockets, she gathered that whoever was in command (we did not know whether the Boss was alive or not) was ordering an ultimate rally toward the south, and so we changed our course.

  It was a great pity. I thought, that the clan had not been equipped throughout its membership with ultrophones, but Wilma explained to me that not enough of these had been built for distribution as yet, although general distribution had been contemplated within a couple of months.

  We traveled far before nightfall overtook us, trying only to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the valley.

  When gathering dusk made jumping too dangerous, we sought a comfortable spot beneath the trees and consumed part of our emergency rations. It was the first time I had tasted the stuff—a highly nutritive synthetic substance called “concentro,” which was, however, a bit bitter and unpalatable. But as only a mouthful or so was needed, it did not matter.

  Neither of us had a cloak, but we were both thoroughly tired and happy, so we curled up together for warmth. I remember Wilma making some sleepy remark about our mating, as she cuddled up, as though the matter were all settled, and my surprise at my own instant acceptance of the idea, for I had not consciously thought of her that way before. But we both fell asleep at once.

  In the morning we found little time for love making. The practical problem facing us was too great. Wilma felt that the Wyoming plan must be to rally in the Susquanna territory, but she had her doubts about the wisdom of this plan. In my elation at my success in bringing down the Han ship, and my newly-found interest in my charming companion, I had forgotten the ominous fact that the Han ship I had destroyed must have known the exact location of the Wyoming Works.

  This meant, to Wilma’s mind, either that the Hans had perfected new instruments as yet unknown to us, or that somewhere, among the Wyomings or some other nearby gang, there were traitors. In either contingency, she argued, other Han raids would follow, and since the Susquannas had a highly developed organization and more than usually productive plants, the next raid might be expected to strike them.

  But at any rate it was clearly our business to get in touch with the other fugitives as quickly as possible, so in spite of muscles that were sore from the excessive leaping of the day before, we continued on our way.

  We traveled for only a couple of hours when we saw a multi-colored rocket in the sky, some ten miles ahead of us.

  “Bear to the left, Tony,” Wilma said, “and listen for the whistle.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Haven’t they given you the rocket code yet?” she replied. “That’s what the green, followed by yellow and purple means: to concentrate five miles east of the rocket position. You know the rocket position itself might draw a play of dis rays.”

  It did not take us long to reach the neighborhood of the indicated rallying, though we were now traveling beneath the trees, with but an occasional leap to a top branch to see if any more rocket smoke was floating above. And soon we heard a distant whistle.

  We found about half the gang already there, in a spot where the trees met high above a little stream. The Big Boss and Raid Bosses were busy reorganizing the remnants.

  “You two stick close to me,” he said, adding grimly, “I’m going back to the valley at once with a hundred picked men, and I’ll need you.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Setting the Trap

  Inside of fifteen minutes we were on our way. A certain amount of caution was sacrificed for the sake of speed, and the men leaped away either across the forest top, or over open spaces of ground, but concentration was forbidden. The Big Boss named the spot on the hillside as the rallying point.

  “We’ll have to take a chance on being seen, so long as we don’t group,” he declared, “at least until within five miles of the rallying spot. From then on I want every man to disappear from sight and to travel under cover. And keep your ultrophones open, and turned on ten-four-seven-six.”

  Wilma and I had received our battle equipment from the Gear Boss. It consisted of a long-gun, a hand-gun, with a special case of ammunition constructed of inertron, which made the load weigh but a few ounces, and a short sword. This gear we strapped over each other’s shoulders, on top of our jumping belts. In addition, we each received an ultrophone, and a light inertron blanket rolled into a cylinder about six inches long by two or three in diameter. This fabric was exceedingly thin and but it had considerable warmth, because of the mixture of inertron in its composition.

  “This looks like business,” Wilma remarked to me with sparkling eyes. (And I might mention a curious thing here. The word “business” had survived from the 20th Century American vocabulary, but not with any meaning of “industry” or “trade,” for such things being purely community activities were spoken of as “work” and “clearing.” Business simply meant fighting, and that was all.)

  “Did you bring all this equipment from the valley?” I asked the Gear Boss.

  “No,” he said. “There was no time to gather anything. All this stuff we cleared from the Susquannas a few hours ago. I was with the Boss on the way down, and he had me jump on ahead and arrange it. But you two had better be moving. He’s beckoning you now.”

  Hart was about to call us on our phones when we looked up. As soon as we did so, he leaped away, waving us to follow closely.

  He was a powerful man, and he darted ahead in long, swift, low leaps up
the banks of the stream, which followed a fairly straight course at this point. By extending ourselves, however, Wilma and I were able to catch up to him.

  As we gradually synchronized our leaps with his, he outlined to us, between the grunts that accompanied each leap, his plan of action.

  “We have to start the big business—unh—sooner or later,” he said. “And if—unh—the Hans have found any way of locating our positions—unh—it’s time to start now, although the Council of Bosses—unh—had intended waiting a few years until enough rocket ships have been—unh—built. But no matter what the sacrifice—unh—we can’t afford to let them get us on the run—unh—We’ll set a trap for the yellow devils in the—unh—valley if they come back for their wreckage—unh—and if they don’t, we’ll go rocketing for some of their liners—unh—on the Nu-yok, Glee-lan, Sikaga course. We can use—unh—that idea of yours of shooting up the repellor—unh—beams. Want you to give us a demonstration.”

  With further admonition to follow him closely, he increased his pace, and Wilma and I were taxed to our utmost to keep up with him. It was only in ascending the slopes that my tougher muscles over-balanced his greater skill, and I was able to set the pace for him, as I had for Wilma.

  We slept in greater comfort that night, under our inertron blankets, and were off with the dawn, leaping cautiously to the top of the ridge overlooking the valley which Wilma and I had left.

  The Boss scanned the sky with his ultroscope, patiently taking some fifteen minutes to the task, and then swung his phone into use, calling the roll and giving the men their instructions.

  His first order was for us all to slip our ear and chest discs into permanent position.

  These ultrophones were quite different from the one used by Wilma’s companion scout the day I saved her from the attack of the bandit gang. That one was contained entirely in a small pocket case These, with which we were now equipped, consisted of a pair of ear discs, each a separate and self-contained receiving set They slipped into little pockets over our ears in the fabric helmets we wore, and shut out virtually all extraneous sounds. The chest discs were likewise self-contained sending sets, strapped to the chest a few inches below the neck and actuated by the vibrations from the vocal cords through the body tissues. The total range of these sets was about eighteen miles. Reception was remarkably clear, quite free from the static of 20th Century radios, and of a strength in direct proportion to the distance of the speaker.

  The Boss’ set was triple powered, so that his orders would cut in on any local conversations, which were indulged in, however, with great restraint, and only for the purpose of maintaining contacts.

  I marveled at the efficiency of this modern method of battle communication in contrast to the clumsy signaling devices of more ancient times; and also at other military contrasts in which the 20th and 25th Century methods were the reverse of each other in efficiency. These modern Americans, for instance, knew little of hand-to-hand fighting, and nothing, naturally, of trench warfare. And until my recent flash of inspiration, no one among them, apparently, had ever thought of the scheme of shooting a rocket into a repellor beam and letting the beam itself hurl it upward into the most vital part of the Han ship.

  Hart patiently placed his men, first giving his instructions to the campmasters, and then remaining silent, while they placed the individuals.

  In the end, the hundred men were ringed about the valley, on the hillsides and tops, each in a position from which he had a good view of the wreckage of the Han ship. But not a man had come in view, so far as I could see, in the whole process.

  The Boss explained to me that it was his idea that he, Wilma and I should investigate the wreck. If Han ships should appear in the sky, we would leap for the hillsides.

  I suggested to him to have the men set up their long-guns trained on an imaginary circle surrounding the wreck. He busied himself with this after the three of us leaped down to the Han ship, serving as a target himself, while he called on the men individually to aim their pieces and lock them in position.

  In the meantime Wilma and I climbed into the wreckage, but did not find much. Practically all of the instruments and machinery had been twisted out of an recognizable shape, or utterly destroyed by the ship’s disintegrator rays which apparently had continued to operate in the midst of its warped remains for some moments after the crash.

  It was unpleasant work searching the mangled bodies of the crew. But it had to be done. The Han clothing, I observed, was quite different from that of the Americans, and more like the garb to which I had been accustomed in the earlier part of my life. It was made of synthetic fabrics like silks, loose and comfortable trousers of knee length, and sleeveless shirts.

  No protection, except that against drafts, was needed, Wilma explained to me, for the Han cities were entirely enclosed, with splendid arrangements for ventilation and heating. These arrangements of course were equally adequate in their airships. The Hans, indeed, had quite a distaste for unshaded daylight, since their lighting apparatus diffused a controlled amount of ultraviolet rays, making the unmodified sunlight unnecessary for health, and undesirable for comfort. Since the Hans did not have the secret of inertron, none of them wore anti-gravity belts. Yet in spite of the fact that they had to bear their own full weight at all times, they were physically far inferior to the Americans. They lived lives of physical inertia, having machinery of every description for the performance of all labor, and convenient conveyances for any movement of more than a few steps.

  Even from the twisted wreckage of this ship I could see that seats, chairs and couches played an extremely important part in their scheme of existence.

  But none of the bodies were overweight. They seemed have been the bodies of men in good health, but muscularly much underdeveloped. Wilma explained to me that they had mastered the science of gland control, and of course dietetics, to the point where men and women among them not uncommonly reached the age of a hundred years with arteries and general health in splendid condition.

  I did not have time to study the ship and its contents as carefully as I would have liked, however. Time pressed, and it was our business to discover some clue to the deadly accuracy with which the ship had spotted the Wyoming Works.

  The Boss had hardly finished his arrangements for the ring barrage, when one of the scouts on an eminence to the north, announced the approach of seven Han ships spread out in a great semicircle.

  Hart leaped for the hillside, calling to us to do likewise, but Wilma and I had raised the flaps of our helmets and switched off our “speakers” for conversation between ourselves, and by the time we discovered what had happened, the ships were clearly visible, so fast were they approaching.

  “Jump!” we heard the Boss order, “Deering to the north. Rogers to the east.”

  But Wilma looked at me meaningly and pointed to where the twisted plates of the ship, projecting from the ground, offered a shelter.

  “Too late, Boss,” she said. “They’d see us. Besides I think there’s something here we ought to look at. It’s probably their magnetic graph.”

  “You’re signing your death warrant,” Hart warned.

  “We’ll risk it,” said Wilma and I together.

  “Good for you,” replied the Boss. “Take command then, Rogers, for the present. Do you all know his voice, boys?”

  A chorus of assent rang in our ears, and I began to do some fast thinking as the girl and I ducked into the twisted mass of metal.

  “Wilma, hunt for that record,” I said, knowing that by the simple process of talking I could keep the entire command continuously informed as to the situation. “On the hillsides, keep your guns trained on the circles and stand by. On the hilltops, how many of you are there. Speak in rotation from Bald Knob around to the east, north, west.”

  In turn the men called their names. There were twenty of them.

  I assigned them by name to cover the various Han ships, numbering the latter from left to right.

&n
bsp; “‘Train our rockets on their repellor rays about three quarters of the way up, between ships and ground. Aim is more important than elevation. Follow those rays with your aim continuously. Shoot when I tell you, not before. Deering has the record. The Hans probably have not seen us, or at least think there are but two of us in the valley, since they’re settling without opening up disintegrators. Any opinions?”

  My ear discs remained silent.

  “Deering and I will remain here until they land and debark. Stand by and keep alert.”

  Rapidly and easily, the largest of the Han ships settled to the earth. Three scouted sharply to the south, rising to a higher level. The others floated motionless about thousand feet above.

  Peeping through a small fissure between two plates, we saw the vast hulk of the ship come to rest full on the line of our prospective ring barrage. A door clanged open a couple of feet from the ground, and one by one the crew emerged.