Collected Fiction

by Henry Kuttner

  “Indeed?”

  “Listen and shut up. That was my best course because I’d no one behind me! I was looking out for myself. One man, alone, couldn’t conquer the City, even with the ray. But you—well, let me guess your plans. You’ll manufacture enough of the projectors to arm your men. You’ll have a coup d’etat. With the Firstman dead, the Black Sun will go down. Was I on your murder list?”

  Horsten’s eyes flickered. I laughed, “Sure. A knife in the back for me, and—the Firstman? No, you wouldn’t dare risk that with him. He’s too tough. Joanna—” I swung toward her. “What was your part in this? Poison?”

  “I think you’ve talked enough,” Horsten said.

  His right hand was still hidden behind the desk.

  “Not quite,” I told him. “My talking can save your lives and your coup. I’m willing to throw in with you. You’ve got the projector and the men, Ai for me, the people trust me, and they don’t trust you. Also, I’ve more brains than all of you.”

  “A generous offer,” Joanna said. “Very. I’ve commanded the Vikings for years. I’ve earned my place as Gar son’s right hand. I can save your lives now—if I want to. So. My plans are changed. I’ll join you, but my orders must be obeyed.”

  Horsten’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Kind of you, Ser Heath!”

  “I’m not serving under you—you’re too stupid, Dangerously so. We must be on equal terms at least.”

  My bluff, I saw, was succeeding. I could not hope to convince Horsten, but his men were hesitating. And all I wanted now was time—a few minutes or an hour, I did not know how long.

  Joanna gripped Horsten’s arm. “You’re not believing any of this!” I turned to the men and said, with lashing contempt, “We want no women with us—except to obey our commands. They cannot be trusted. As for this wench, she’s already betrayed you. She led me here. She should have let me kill her before that.” Joanna went white to the lips. She sprang up, leaping toward me, fingers clawed. I showed her my balled fist—and she stopped.

  “John!” She was choking with humiliated fury. “You—you—let this swine—”

  “Tell her to shut up,” I said to Horsten. “I want to know your plans.”

  “Wait, Joanna,” Horsten said smoothly. “There’s time enough for everything.” He turned to me. “I’m sure you’d like to know our plans. Ser Heath. But, you see. I’m not quite as stupid as yon seem to think.”

  “I’ve no interest in the coup itself. Not till our arrangements are settled, at least. I’m talking about afterward. What then? Piracy?”

  “Piracy? Why, we will continue—as always.”

  “Equality?” He pulled at his lips, “Of course—for us. For our oligarchy. There must be serfs, of course. And we’ll expand. We’ll raid. We’ll be more powerful than ever. We must be strong, to guard against attack. Besides—” He smiled. “We shall attack. Garson is too soft. He holds his hand too often. My rule will be iron.”

  “The old line,” I said. “A ruling class in a world of slaves. World dominion’s your ultimate idea, I suppose.”

  “Yes.”

  “And yet you can’t even steal an invention without leaving yourselves open to destruction. You’re trapped now, Horsten—or you would be, if I hadn’t come.”

  I caught a murmur from the men, Joanna said, “No one trailed us, I’m certain of that.”

  “When you kill-kill!” I told Horsten. “Sever the spine or smash the brain. Don’t let your victims live till the guards arrive and he can talk.”

  “Wellingham?” Horsten said softly. His cold gaze flickered across the hall. “Someone blundered, eh? But you interfered, Ser Heath. You tried to block my men’s escape.”

  “After they’d left Wellingham dying but still able to talk. How did I know who they were? I learned enough from Wellingham to find Joanna.”

  “Wellingham knew little. He did not tell you how to come here. You had to find that out from Joanna. The guards won’t know, either.”

  “Wellingham knew. Pie fainted before he could tell me. I had to get out quickly because the guards were at the door. They’ve probably already got the truth from Wellingham, with adrenalin if necessary.”

  “Wellingham doesn’t know the way here.”

  “He told me he did,” I insisted, “I came to warn you, because I’m joining your organization. And by God, you need a man with brain!”

  The soft sound of an alarm whirred suddenly from the shadows of the ceiling, I read the meaning in a dozen faces.

  “That’s the answer.” I said, in the tingling silence. “Now no more talk. If you haven’t provided an emergency exit, Horsten, you’re more of a fool than I thought.”

  “There’s no other way out,” the men said.

  I grinned at him, “If Horsten told you that, he lied. He looks out for his own self. He might leave you here to die, but not himself. And he wouldn’t leave you to talk to the guards, either.”

  They got the implication of that, and they didn’t like it, Horsten, his face contorted, jerked his arm at he leaped to his feet.

  “This way!” he said.

  The alarm hummed monotonously from the darkness above.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Water Dentil

  AS I had hoped, Horsten opened a drawer in the desk, and brought out a small dark satchel, with strap dangling from it. The heat-ray model—within reach, now. But Horsten held his gun ready, and Joanna, too, was watchful.

  We went along a narrow passage that ended in a blank wall. Horsten. opened a panel. It was another water-lock, with suits scattered around it.

  “I did arrange for escape,” he said. “And for everyone.”

  The mood of the men was changing. Had Horsten commanded them to shoot me down then, they “would have obeyed. I saw that, and forestalled It by action. There was a lever set in the wall; I knew its use.

  There was a moment of confusion as the group hurried toward the pile of suits. I started to join them, spun, and dived toward the lever. Horsten yelled, and Joanna’s shrill scream rang out. A bullet sang past me and splashed, star-shaped, on the wall.

  Then the lever was cold against my palm, and I jerked it down strongly, closing the face-plate of my suit with my free hand.

  Water spouted in from the opening valve, at first a single jet, than a feathery torrent, and at last a deluge. The lights carried by the men bobbed and swung. I saw Horsten snatch up a suit, rip the helmet free, and jerk it over his head. The others were busy, too. That was why they didn’t kill me; they were too frantic trying to save their own lives.

  All but Joanna. She already wore her suit, and had closed the face-plate as I did. She snatched up a gun someone had dropped and fired directly at me, I dived toward her, low, and we went down together, blinded by the cascading flood.

  We were torn apart. I had marked Horsten’s position, and floundered toward him. I got my hands on the straps of the satchel and pulled it free. I couldn’t see Horsten for the chaos that filled the valve-room as the lake water poured in.

  A few lights danced like meteors gone mad, I was flung against the wall. By the time I regained my feet, the water was quiet, and the glowing globes were drifting down. A vague figure moved toward me, ebony against the undersea night.

  I went, bending forward, toward the mouth of the valve. A hand gripped my ankle. I kicked free. I felt bubbles crawl tip my suit. A man was dying there . . . many were dying.

  I felt cold and strung to wire-tense alertness.

  Outside, in the open lake, I kicked the weights from my soles and shot up. There was little danger of the bends; there wasn’t sufficient pressure. But I bobbed out of the water like a cork. Moonlight blinded me.

  Not far away a Viking ship swung at anchor. Beyond it other masts and spars made slow-moving patterns against the purple sky.

  I swam toward the anchor chain, opened my face-plate, and shouted. The lookout called. A mesh ladder was dropped overside. I went up it, dinging to the satchel.

  I
was recognized, of course. A big gray-haired man in uniform pushed through the crowd surrounding me.

  “Ser Heath,” he said. “Trouble?”

  “A little. Drop a boat; I’m going ashore, Captain. And turn on a search-light.”

  He saluted. The white ray swung across the waters. There were floating dark things; bodies. I wondered if Joanna and Horsten had died there, too, under the lake.

  “Excitement ashore,” Captain Daly told me. “I don’t know what’s stirring, but the guards are not. We’re sailing south, though, aren’t we, Ser?”

  I didn’t answer. I’d led the Vikings on too many raids in the past; they wouldn’t understand my change of heart. I wasn’t sure I understood it myself. Only I was tired of following a blind god of destruction.

  I looked up at the Black Sun banner floating in the cold wind.

  THE boat took me to a jetty, and, still carrying the satchel, I saluted the Vikings and left them. My water-suit I had already discarded. A guard was lounging nearby. He sprang to attention as he saw me.

  “Ser Heath!”

  “What is happening?”

  He pointed toward the lake. “Scientist Wellingham—killed. A bloody trail leading out to a quay. That’s all I know; but there’s something stirring, Ser.”

  I said, “Get me a horse. A good one—strong, and fast.”

  While he was gone I strapped the satchel securely to my back. My sword hung once more unhindered at my thigh. I could have used a rifle, but the guard did not have one, and I had little time.

  I mounted. I scribbled on a scrap of paper and thrust it at the guard; it was written in the code that only Bob Garson and I knew. “Take this to the Firstman,” I said. “Immediately.”

  He would be warned, at least, if Joanna and Horsten escaped death by drowning. He might not believe, but I knew he would investigate.

  That would be enough.

  I spurred the horse, a sturdy gray, built for endurance, and hoofs clattered as we galloped southward. Once I looked behind.

  Above the plaza the Black Sun flag was straining, stiff as iron, in the chill blast from the lake.

  I went on, cold and wet, and the ramparts of the City were lost behind me. Until now, I could have drawn back. No more. The burden on my back was heavy.

  What rode at my heels I did not know. It seemed to me that the riders of the apocalypse paced me, there in the windy shouting night along the lake shore, and that I galloped to the outrun dawn. For in Earth’s morning sky rose a black sun.

  To southward men were building again, and building in peace. The warring nations were long since dust. Humanity, wiser now, was rising from the ruins.

  I knew the paths of power; for power is a raging drink that makes men mad. Ten years ago Bob Garson had been worthy of trust. Ten years hence . . . I looked in the future and saw the Firstman’s golden banner flaming above scorched earth and bloody waters. The road runs straight; there is no turning back.

  I had marked his rise. In ten years Garson would have extended his dominion, and the City would be the Rome of the Midwest. The Viking fleets and the armies would go forth to conquer . . . In the end, the result would be the same, whether Garson or John Horsten were at the reins. With Horsten the end would come more swiftly; that was all.

  And above me as I rode, the great swelling curves of the earth rose on all sides. The fertile land that stood eternal and uncomplaining beneath tyrants and free men. Moonlight was luminous on the hills.

  My horse stumbled and came down, and when I examined him I found that his leg was broken.

  I shot him.

  Then I went southward again, on foot.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Ooblet of Power

  LUCK had been against me from the start, probably. Unless I found another steed, I could not hope to reach Indiana. The white glow in the sky ahead marked the radioactive hell of Milwaukee; I had to detour around that. On a summit I paused and stared ahead. The ruined city was a lake of cold flame. From it a winding tongue of fire crept into the dark lake and faded; the river, alight with radioactivity, dissipating itself in the greater expanse.

  I looked behind me, and there were horsemen racing swiftly on my track.

  Once more I wished for a rifle. My knuckle-gun was good only for close-range work, and I had nothing else except cold steel. My pursuers had seen me. It was useless to seek cover. The horsemen circled, surrounding the knoll where I stood.

  The Firstman’s—or Horsten’s men? I was not sure till I saw the Black Sun emblem on their cloaks. Even then, I thought, there might be traitors in Garson’s ranks. And my lips twisted bitterly enough—for I knew of one traitor, at least!

  I waited.

  Rifles were leveled at my chest. The leader dismounted and walked toward me, one hand resting lightly on his pistol-butt. I recognized him.

  “Lieutenant Mackay,” I said.

  “Ser Heath.” He saluted. “I’ve orders from the Firstman. You must come back with us.”

  I felt the acrid taste of bitterness in my mouth. “All right,” I said. “Here.” I extended my sword, hilt first, but he shook his head.

  “You’re not a prisoner, Ser. But I must take this—” He slipped the satchel from my back and strapped it under his golden cloak.

  I saw worry and questioning in his eyes. Still, he was faithful to Garson, and I knew I could get no help from him. Amid the silent circle of men, I mounted, caught the reins, and fell in behind Mackay.

  “You rank me, Ser. Will you lead?”

  I nodded. The road back lay dark and empty before me.

  We reached the City some hours after dawn, and I was escorted to my apartments, where I made a quick toilet. Garson was waiting for me, Mackay said, in Administration Hall. There I found him, at the head of the long table in the great room, with thirty others. Breakfast, like most other meals, was an event of state in the City.

  Golden cloaks, starred with the Black Sun, flashed colorfully; the bright dresses of women were ranged like flowers along the table. Joanna was beside the Firstman, looking fresh and lovely. Her gaze met mine in a honey-colored flash of cold hatred, concealed instantly. Bob Garson was toying with a blown-glass goblet of wine. His face was somber.

  From the looks cast at me, I judged that few knew of my flight. Garson beckoned. I came forward, and he rose, gripped my arm, and led me into the next room, a small sound-proof antechamber. My eyes “went to the satchel on a side-table, and the guard standing beside it.

  Garson said, “You may go now.” The man saluted and left. I heard the door behind me open, and as I turned quickly, John Horsten came in.

  At his heels was Joanna.

  “Close the door,” Garson said. He took a few strides back and forth, pulling at his beard. The morning sunlight glistened on its glossy blackness. I waited.

  After a time he jerked his hook at the satchel. “What about this, Dale?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  His brows made a heavy bar. meeting above the nose. “Is that all?”

  “When am I to be executed?” I said.

  At that Garson thrust out his good arm and gripped my shoulder with agonizing painfulness. “Fin asking you questions, and I want answers. Joanna and Horsten have brought a charge against you. They called you traitor. I didn’t believe it. But you were seen riding out of the City last night, and you had—this—with you.” He indicated the satchel.

  “All right.”

  “Is that all you’re going to say?”

  “I sent a message to you last night, Firstman, I named Joanna and Horsten traitors.”

  “I got no message—” he began, but Horsten interrupted smoothly.

  “Heath is trying to throw dust in your eyes, Firstman. He knows he’s trapped, and hopes to escape by discrediting his accusers.” The thin shoulder rose in a shrug. “It is not wise of him. To accuse me—Well, I have no defense, except to say that he lies. But to accuse your wife—”

  Joanna had drawn herself up and stood, proud, icy,
implacable, watching us all.

  Garson looked at her and then back at me. “Perhaps you should apologize to Joanna, Dale.”

  I felt slow, burning anger rising within me. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t feel quite up to it. But I’ll talk a bit, if I may.”

  THE Firstman nodded slightly. I saw lines of strain on his harsh face.

  “Very well,” I said. “I’m no traitor.

  I’m not even a complete turncoat. If I had been, I’d have killed you first; you were always my greatest danger.” The room filled with deadly silence as I paused.

  I went on. “Ten years ago I helixed in you and trusted you. I thought you wanted peace. I thought you wanted to rebuild civilization. But you don’t—not the right way. You’re riding a tiger now. These raids—they’re unnecessary. The Indiana folk would have given us food for the winter—”

  “They wanted weapons.”

  “And they need weapons. The wolves and cats and wild-dogs are destroying their crops. They’re agriculturists. We’re military scientists. What we needed was a treaty, not a raid. You’re strong now; you can go on raiding and killing and looting, but it’s sowing the whirlwind. Some day the tribes will unite and come against us.”

  “We have the weapons.”

  “Do you think I fear our destruction?” I snarled at him. “It would be a good thing if the City were smashed now! The seeds of war are right here! You can’t see that now, Firstman, though you did once. You’ve been blinded with power. You’ve come to worship the City and your people.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “They are—my people.”

  “Different, then, from others? They’re flesh and blood. And so are the Indiana folk—and all the rest. What right have you to set up your tribe as the rulers?”

  “Should we give weapons to the Indiana group and let them attack us?” Horsten put in, smiling crookedly.

  “They want only free trade with us, I know them. I’ve spoken to them. As for the heat-ray—I planned to take that south and give it to the Indianans.”

  “And he rails me traitor!” Horsten said.

  I ignored him. “You’d not have dared make a Viking raid against heat-ray,” I told Carson. “The Indiana folk would have been able to protect their crops from animals and from you.”