by Denis Hughes
Tern found himself once again master of his own will and mind. Control had been lifted from him. He took the girl in his arms as the monster released her, hugging her close. But there was no time to pause and congratulate themselves on their escape. The two fighters, baulked of their prey, were raining cannon shells down through the trees. Branches were splintered above their heads; the air was made hellish by the stuttering bellow of the guns and the roar of the engines. Once again the monster seized Vivienne by the arm and started off through the forest, dragging Brooking along behind him. Tern was motioned on ahead. He was helpless to refuse, and life was becoming so difficult in the neighbourhood that an immediate withdrawal was advisable no matter who gave the orders.
By the end of ten minutes they were well clear of the clanger zone. Vivienne was showing signs of exhaustion; Tern was ready to drop in his tracks, so tired was he. Only the monster showed no indication of physical collapse; its strength was inexhaustible. But it halted to let them rest, and to lower Brooking to the ground for a while, letting him sink in a shallow patch of snow that had drifted down between the trees.
Tern glared at it savagely. “Well?” he grunted. “You have landed us in a fine spot, I must say! What the hell do you think you’ll gain from this recent manoeuvre?”
The Blue Peril smiled slightly. “Our choice of landing place was surprisingly suitable,” it murmured. “We are less than four miles from the very spot I should have chosen myself. All we have to do is cover that distance, and now that night is fast approaching our movements will be well concealed from unwanted witnesses. As soon as you are rested we will proceed according to plan.”
Tern’s mouth tightened. “All I hope is that this time the plan’s a more watertight one than your last! Come on!”
CHAPTER 11
BROADCAST COMMAND
The monster did not deign to answer. Within a minute or two they were moving off again, heading in a direction indicated by the creature that had brought them to their present state of being hunted. Neither Tern nor Vivienne had the slightest idea where they were or where they were going. As for Brooking, he was now staggering along in a state of semi-consciousness, firmly in the grip of the Blue Peril. Vivienne, too, though receiving far more considerate treatment, was also the subject of a certain amount of restraint and support. Tern, alone, was free to go his own way, held only by invisible chains on account of the girl.
Questioned, the monster still refused to tell them where they were going. “You will see shortly,” was all it would say. “Be patient, as I have told you to before.”
They shivered from the cold, for the abrupt change from the autumn climate of England, bad as that was, was too much; and a considerable amount of snow had recently fallen, making progress difficult if not actually hazardous. By now all sound of the two fighter planes had faded, the machines having returned to base after fruitless strafing activities.
And then the trees thinned and Tern found himself looking out across a clearing to where a large group of buildings were massed on the far side. There was every sign that the place had been carefully camouflaged from air observation, and when he glimpsed a uniformed figure armed with a sub-machine gun he realised that they were looking at some military headquarters.
The monster came to a halt, telling Tern to wait while a plan was formulated. In the icy silence at the fringe of the forest they stood, shivering, watching, most of their curiosity damped by the cold. But there were several aspects of this place that attracted Tern’s attention. He could not be sure, but he had a hazy idea that he had heard rumours of such hidden posts from some of his colleagues back in London. If they were right the monster had brought them to a singularly dangerous spot from which to continue its operations.
Tern glanced obliquely at Vivienne, trying to reassure her with his glance. Their eyes met and held, understanding flowing between them.
“We are ready,” said the monster. “There is a hidden way of entry to this place; we shall use it to save ourselves trouble. That way, Tern. Hurry, please!” It jerked its hideous head to the trees behind them. “We must pass round the clearing and approach from the rear,” it added.
Tern grunted, wishing for the thousandth time that he had a gun and could blast this foul creation from the face of the earth. But he started off doggedly again, obedient to the will of their captor. He was only glad that the Blue Peril had not again used its hypnotic influence on him.
During the journey round the edge of the clearing Tern was able to take better stock of the buildings and the various oddities about their layout. He was particularly curious as to the purpose of several large concrete ramps, the after ends of which appeared to be sunk in the fringe of the forest. Heavy entanglements of barbed wire screened them off from the rest of the place.
When he asked the monster for an explanation the thing only grinned vindictively. “Again, Tern, you will see!” it said in its shrill, piping tones.
Entry to the main enclosure of the building group was far simpler than Tern had expected. One end of a concealed concrete tunnel opened in the forest about a hundred yards from the buildings. When they first sighted it a man was standing guard in front of the heavy iron gate that barred all entry to it. But when the monster paused and did its stuff the sentry shouldered his rifle, turned to the gateway, used a key on the lock, and finally slouched off into the woods, where he was last seen lying down with every apparent intention of going to sleep.
Tern glared at the monster. “So you’ve learnt their language?” he said tersely. “You should take up teaching in your spare time! It’d be more peaceful than this kind of thing!”
“Mockery is not to my taste,” came the cold rejoinder. “We are now at liberty to enter this secret installation. You will be particularly careful to do exactly as I tell you. Do not fail for the girl’s sake!”
“Keep your threats to yourself!” he retorted angrily. “You know you’ve got me where you want me; don’t keep harping on it!”
The tunnel they entered was wide, lit at intervals by electric light. Every fifteen yards or thereabouts was a deep recess in the wall, and sitting in each was a man, armed like the sentry outside. But now they dozed peacefully, unaware of the power that had lulled him into oblivion on duty.
The floor of the tunnel was gradually shelving upwards, and when it ended a doorway gave access into what appeared to be a large military office. There were clerks working at desks, three women telephonists at a large switchboard, an officer poring over a big scale map on a table at the far end.
“Make no noise!” ordered the monster in a whisper. “They will take no notice of us if we do not disturb them.”
“Which way?” muttered Tern a little helplessly. Four other doors opened off the office.
“The door immediately in front of us now,” came the reply. “Walk quietly ahead, please. Vivienne will be all right if you do as you are told.”
Tern glanced from side to side as he walked. There were various nameplates on the desks and doors, but although he had little difficulty in guessing at the language they were printed in they made no sense as far as he was concerned.
Not one of the clerks or other men in the big room even lifted his head as they walked across the floor. Presumably the Blue Peril had lulled their sensibilities, and made them ignore the interruption. Tern reflected that it was a most potent accomplishment. One thing, it saved a lot of bloodshed.
He reached the door opposite and opened it without waiting to be ordered to. Beyond was what was obviously a well-organised radio transmitting room. And even as he entered an officer in uniform was speaking into a microphone suspended by a cord from the ceiling. The man himself sat at a desk.
“Ah!” The monster’s murmured exclamation was pregnant with a sense of achievement and success.
Tern glanced at it sharply. The officer at the desk suddenly stopped speaking and sat back with a jerk. His mouth began to open slackly at sight of the monster that had entered so abruptly into th
e very heart of secrecy. Then his eyes were rounding with stark terror as he slowly absorbed the frightful apparition in all its fear-provoking ugliness.
The monster gave him little time to act or even shout.
With a violent push, it sent Brooking staggering aside to fall in a heap against the wall, stunned again. It did not bother to release Vivienne, but whirled her almost off her feet as it lunged forward towards the desk in a lightning advance. Tern was knocked flying, cursing quietly. But by that time the man at the microphone had received the full force of one of the monster’s clenched fists in his face. He fell back in his chair without a sound, his face crushed and mashed beyond recognition, so tremendous had been the striking force of the small, weak-looking fist. Vivienne uttered the beginning of a scream, but the monster silenced her instantly merely by turning his gaze on her eyes. Tern, who had started a desperate dash to seize what he hoped might be an opportunity of overcoming the creature, was stopped dead in his tracks by the same expedient. He stood there rocking gently to and fro on his feet, staring vacantly at Vivienne.
Then the mental pressure was relaxed and he found that if an opportunity had ever existed it was gone now. Bitterly, he walked across to the desk and stood by Vivienne’s side as she turned her head away from the unpleasant sight of the dead officer.
The monster leant forward and switched off the microphone. Only then did it look at his companions again. There was a frightening smile on its lips. “We can talk now,” it said. “We are no longer on the air. Fetch Brooking from over there and plant him in that chair where we can see him all the time. If he shows any signs of being a nuisance I shall kill him, though I had hoped to save that pleasure for later.”
“You have it all worked out, haven’t you?” said Tern.
“Down to the final detail,” came the triumphant reply. “Now, if you will take a seat over there. I can keep an eye on you without much trouble. Vivienne, you will remain at my side.”
Tern moved away reluctantly, sitting on the very edge of a hard wooden chair beside the one on which he had dumped the unconscious scientist. The officer was thrust on to the floor and forgotten. The monster, still watching Tern with its malignant gaze, took the vacant chair and drew the pendant microphone down to its own level. It switched on, a red light winking on and off on the wall above Tern’s head.
Tern would have given anything to have been able to understand the spate of foreign words and phrases that the monster delivered into the mike. Every instinct told him they were dangerous words, probably aimed at the peace of the world, but unless he could understand he was even more helpless than before.
The delivery into the microphone went on without a break for five or ten minutes, then the monster switched off and, rose to its feet, its fingers still fastened on Vivienne’s wrist.
“The scene is set, as you would say, Tern,” it observed. “We will now go and watch the initial stages of the operation!”
Tern snarled at him. “You devil!” he said. “What have you done? What have you set in motion?”
“You wish to know too much, my friend. I will tell you this: your own country is in for a rude awakening. Naturally it will retaliate and the seeds of war will germinate with surprising rapidity. I decided long ago that the best way to wreak my revenge on the human race was to set the nations at one another’s throats. What simpler thing than from here, where everything is ready prepared for such a strike?”
Tern clenched his fists, advancing on the monster regardless of his danger. But the monster stayed him before he had covered a yard. “When will you learn that you cannot attack me, Tern?” it said mildly. “You could never reach me, and if you did you could never harm me enough to save the life of this girl and escape.”
Tern relaxed. He knew he would have to think up some more subtle form of attack than the direct approach and the use of force. But what? And the awful implication of what the Blue Peril had just told him was enough to make his brain whirl. He did not even know the manner of the attack to be launched on England. How could he possibly prevent it?
“Come!” ordered the monster more sharply. It thrust Vivienne along at its side, gesturing Tern to carry Brooking. Then it waited by the door of the radio room, not the door by which they had entered, but a second one across the room,
Tern collected Brooking, a dead weight on his tired shoulders. He began to realise again how desperately weary he was. The added weight of Brooking almost brought him to his knees, but he staggered obstinately out through the door.
Beyond lay a short corridor, and at the end of that another door, closed and locked. But there was a key in the lock and he turned it with one hand, grasping Brooking with the other.
“To the right!” ordered the monster. “Take no notice of any men you may see; I will control them. Carry on by that wall at the side of the next block.”
Tern could barely find the strength to grunt assent. By burdening him with Brooking the monster had seriously handicapped him in any attempt at revolt.
They passed only one sentry, a stolid, flat-faced man with dull eyes and unintelligent features. Then they rounded the corner of another block of buildings and Tern found himself looking out to where the queer shaped ramps had previously caught his attention. Now they were the scene of terrific activity, with men running this way and that in orderly fashion. Instinctively he came to a halt as the monster and Vivienne came up beside him. The eyes of the monster were blazing with hideous enjoyment.
“They are getting ready!” it said. “Do you see that? Before long we shall witness the first of many such launchings.”
“What is it?” demanded Tern. He let go of Brooking and let him fall to the ground like a sack of rags. “What is this cursed place?”
“One of many guided missile launching bases,” came the frightening reply. “Does that answer your query?”
CHAPTER 12
HOMEWARD BOUND
“You mean these people are going to let off a rocket thing aimed at England?” blurted Tern. “You can’t let them do it, damn you! The country isn’t ready for such an attack! Thousands of innocent women and children will die, just to satisfy your savage lust for revenge!”
“Precisely, Tern. Millions, not thousands…This place can handle a hundred launchings in a few hours. A constant stream of projectiles will rain on London and all your larger cities during the night. You can only see three of the launching ramps from here because of the darkness, but I assure you there are many more along the fringe of the forest.”
Tern suddenly hurled himself on the monster, forgetful of danger, knowing only that somehow this frightful thing must be stopped, prevented from ever happening.
He was brought up short by a cry of agonising pain from Vivienne as the Blue Peril jerked at her arm, almost tearing it from its socket. At the same time the creature itself turned its eyes full on him in the gloom. They seemed to glow with living fire, paralysing him, crushing his will and making him cower fearfully. Vivienne’s cry turned to a sob.
“Don’t do it, Tern!” hissed the monster. “I have not finished with you yet, or I would destroy you completely as I hope to destroy the whole of your race in time. You are only witnessing the very small beginnings of what will be the most catastrophic and total war ever waged by the countries of the world since the start of time!”
Tern could only shudder uncontrollably. From the corner of his eye he saw the men by the nearest launching ramp gather round a large articulated lorry that had just drawn up. Resting on it was a long, gleaming, pencil-shaped object, the menace of it horribly clear in the patches of light thrown by operating lamps spaced at intervals round the back end of the ramp itself. The fore end of the projectile was painted bright red for a considerable distance along its length. Streamlined fins projected from the rear, with the circular orifice of the driving unit tucked between them. A heavy mobile crane moved into position. He could hear men shouting orders, hear the grind of machinery, the whirr of electric motors as the crane sw
ung across and its tackle came to rest above the loaded projectile.
“Don’t you realise what you’re starting?” Tern muttered. “I know you’re not human, but we are! You can’t make us stand by and watch that thing sent off to bring death to people like ourselves! Haven’t you a spark of pity in your being?” He was pleading now, begging for mercy for his fellow men, not so much for himself. He didn’t matter now; this was too big. He would willingly sacrifice his own life if he thought there was the slightest chance of stopping this thing, but he was so afraid that it would be a wasted effort, a futile one. And he could not afford to waste his own life if there was a chance that sooner or later he could turn the tables.
“It is most interesting,” said the monster quietly. “I had not expected this backward race to produce such a weapon and handle it with such efficiency. I have no doubt whatever that it will serve its purpose once it is launched. The ones that follow will complete the good work.”
“You fool!” groaned Tern. “The world only needs a spark to set it off.”
“Exactly, Tern. I am supplying that spark. When I used the radio to issue local orders I merely informed the men that an unprovoked attack had been made on a number of this country’s cities. I spoke on behalf of their ruler, giving the necessary orders for immediate retaliatory action. It was simple, and will prove so very effective.”
Tern could only stare in consternation at the busy figures of the men as they loaded the gleaming missile on to its ramp. All sense of his own plight and that of Vivienne was swamped now. Brooking was entirely forgotten, a non-entity, half crazy when conscious, a burden when insensible. The fact that they had him to thank for this mounting danger made little difference. In a few minutes nothing would hold back the ghastly event of this launching. And Tern guessed that at other ramps men were working just as feverishly to do the same awful thing.
