Death Dimension

by Denis Hughes

  So intent were they all on watching proceedings that even the monster failed to notice Brooking when he stirred and opened his eyes. They were wild with insanity by this time, and, if anything, that increased the danger of the man.

  The projectile was being lowered slowly and carefully into position now. As Tern watched, it slid gracefully down to the rear of the launching ramp, to come to a standstill with its red-painted nose just showing from the barrel-like terminal of the ramp. Tern knew that if any attempt was going to be made to prevent its firing, it must be made soon.

  And it was then that he became aware of a slight movement behind him. Glancing round, he was horrified to see that Brooking was on his knees. Two yards away a dull-eyed guard stood slackly against the wall, victim of the monster’s control. And Brooking had been to his side and now held a sub-machine gun pointing straight at Vivienne’s back.

  His lips were drawn back in a savage grin. The monster was shielded from Brooking by the body of the girl; but bullets would pass through a body at that short range.

  Tern did not wait to think. He yelled and threw himself at Brooking in one blind instant of time. But Brooking gave a lurch and escaped the worst of the impact. In the moment when Tern hit the ground in a sprawl the machine gun broke into a fiendish chatter of noise. Vivienne screamed. There was a peculiar coughing sound from the Blue Peril. Tern tried to twist round but felt the weight of the scientist’s body on top of his own, crushing him down. He heaved and got up on his feet again. Brooking still gripped the gun in his hands, but his face was blank and dead-looking in the semi-darkness. Suddenly his eyes opened wider and wider, his mouth fell open, a terrible expression settled on his features and the whole of his body crumpled up as if there had been some explosion inside it. Tern knew, then, that the monster had killed him by the very force of its crushing personality.

  He glanced quickly at Vivienne, terrified that he would see her lying dead on the ground, killed by one of Brooking’s bullets. But instead she crouched against the wall, her hands over her face.

  And the Blue Peril swayed unsteadily on its feet. Tern seized the machine gun from Brooking’s unresisting grasp, swinging it round towards the monster, meaning to finish what the scientist had started.

  But he did not fire because men were running towards them from the launching ramp, a rifle spat venomously, further off a machine gun opened up. It dawned on him that they would be lucky to get out of here alive. He ducked as bullets chipped concrete from the wall above his head. Then the guard from whom Brooking had taken the machine gun came to life and dragged at a revolver in his belt. Vivienne cried a warning. It was almost too late. Tern swung the gun and pressed the trigger, cutting the sentry down with a burst. At the same time he shouted to the Blue Peril.

  “Stop those others! We can’t hold ’em on our own!”

  But the monster seemed to be less than its normal self. It leaned back against the wall, its massive head slightly on one side. A trickle of blood ran down from its mouth, and Tern glimpsed a ragged bullet hole in the metal of its torso. Brooking had wounded it.

  And all the time the oncoming troops were getting nearer. The air seemed to hum with bullets and shouted orders. If the monster could no longer help them it was time to go. He ran to Vivienne, seizing her arm and dragging her backwards. On the way he grabbed up the revolver dropped by the dead sentry. The girl took it from him, starting to run as he turned and sprayed the vanguard of advancing men. Only the gloom had so far saved them from being killed.

  Then the monster seemed to recover a little of its strength. It held out a hand towards Tern. When it spoke its voice was a shadow of its former shrillness.

  “Wait!” it said thinly. “I can still aid you but am injured. Brooking is dead now.”

  Tern gritted his teeth. “For God’s sake come on then!” he snapped. “There isn’t a moment to lose. Halt ’em, damn yon!” He threatened the creature with the gun, holding his fire because there was just a chance that this being could save them.

  The monster started moving stiffly, all its old agility gone. Tern saw its weakness, leapt towards it, seizing its arm and dragging it forward. “Quick!” He gasped, glancing along the wall to where Vivienne was cowering down behind the body of the fallen guard. “Quick! If we hang about we’re done! Use your brain!”

  There was no resistance on the part of the monster. It allowed itself to be guided by Tern, but when the pair of them paused after joining Vivienne and it tried to control the mass of oncoming troops the effect was disappointingly slight.

  Within a minute or two of the temporary check effected the whining of bullets had begun again. They were under fire now from two different flanks; the situation was getting desperate. Tern used the machine gun and had the satisfaction of seeing several men fall, but he knew in his heart that the end must come before long. And somehow or other he must prevent that guided missile from ever being launched.

  Gripping the monster firmly, he sprayed bullets at the enemy with his free hand. Vivienne was taking shots with the revolver. The three of them worked back towards the nearest doorway. This, thought Tern hopefully, was where the Blue Peril might still prove its worth.

  “Where’s the main control room of this place?” he demanded.

  It was curious how passive the monster was now. Wounded, it seemed to have lost its power to terrify; it was almost an object of pity. But it still retained some of its strength.

  “Through that door and down the passage beyond,” it said.

  Tern fired another burst, staying the advance a little. Vivienne got the door open. They backed through it in a bunch, firing as they went. “I’ll get you out of this and give you another chance to wreak revenge if you do as I ask,” said Tern.

  The passage was dark and silent. Outside, the shooting had stopped for want of a target. Tern shot a burst through the closed door, delaying action. At the end of the passage was another door, a stouter one, bolted on the outside. Vivienne got it open and darted through. A man looked up, his face a picture of amazement as he caught sight of the girl. He was grabbing for a gun when she shot him in the head. And then they were in the control room, a vast, brightly lighted place of switchboards, humming generators and batteries of instrument dials. Tern saw a desk and microphone. That was what he needed more than anything else. He thrust the monster towards it.

  “Issue orders to stop the launching!” he grated. As he spoke he rammed the muzzle of the machine gun in the creature’s spine. “Do as I tell you or I’ll fire!”

  The monster summoned a smile. “I never did ask for life,” it said slowly and painfully. “Strange now that I stand in danger of losing it I am ready to bargain to keep it. I trust you, too, Tern. We shall escape from this.”

  “Get cracking on the radio!” snapped Tern impatiently. “You look after us and we’ll look after you—on our terms!”

  “Very well.” It went slowly to the desk and sank into the chair, glancing up at Tern. “I am to prevent the missile from being launched?”

  “Yes!” Tern swung away as the door came open. Vivienne gasped and fired her revolver. Tern’s finger tightened on the trigger of the machine gun. The men in the doorway were scattered by the hail of stammering lead. “Hurry!” shouted Tern to the monster.

  The monster seemed to steady itself, gripping the edge of the desk, staring balefully back at him. Then it was talking into the microphone, an unintelligible stream of words. The glass of a window high in the wall shattered. A bullet sang dangerously close to Vivienne’s head. Tern swung round and fired from the hip. The body of a man pitched through the broken window. Then Tern was running fast to where a bank of generators were humming quietly at the far end of the control room. He fired into them, wrecking them. While the monster was still talking on the radio he destroyed the switchboards, leaving only the one which he thought was connected with the radio transmission.

  The monster stopped talking and rose to its feet. “It is done, Tern. The launching orders are cancel
led. I said it was all a mistake that they were to wait for definite orders from higher command. Now we must leave this place at once.”

  “You bet!” said Tern grimly. “If we can!” The monster indicated another door at the opposite end of the big room. “Through there,” it said. “Help me, my legs are losing their strength. We must hurry.”

  Tern hesitated for only a second. He had given his word to stand by the Blue Peril, and could not now abandon it. The Thing could still serve them in many ways, too, which swung him in favour of it.

  Through the door was a long corridor, a place of light and shadow. It debauched in a square, open to the night sky. There were no troops about. He wondered why.

  Then he heard sounds of renewed activity from the direction of the launching ramps and wondered again. Had the monster tricked them?

  The three of them ran across the square, heading for a gate in the wall. Before they reached it a body of men appeared behind them. A bullet nicked Tern’s jacket sleeve. He whirled at a cry from Vivienne, firing as he went, stemming the advance. Men were shouting at them now, cursing in a foreign tongue that was ugly and meaningless. Then they were through the gate and sprinting as fast as they could over open ground.

  The Blue Peril made heavy going of it, the sound of its breath horribly laboured. Tern thought it must be dying. Then it stopped in its tracks, seizing his arm.

  “What’s the matter?” he demanded urgently.

  “Half a mile further to the north you will find a small landing ground,” it said. “It is used by generals and the like when they visit here. There is a ski-equipped plane standing by in a hangar under the trees, a light plane.”

  Tern felt a surge of relief. “Come on then!” he said more cheerfully. “We might just make it!”

  “You may carry on alone, Tern. I can look after myself from now on. Hurry!”

  For answer Tern grabbed the creature’s arm and tried to drag him in the desired direction. But the monster’s strength was not all spent. It threw him off and staggered away, breaking into a run as it headed for the launching ramps.

  “Let it go!” gasped Vivienne. “Please, darling!”

  “We can’t!” he snapped. “It’ll start trouble all the time it’s alive!” As he spoke he levelled the machine gun. But before he could begin to squeeze the trigger there was a shuddering roar from the nearest launching ramp, a great gout of flame and smoke. “My God!” gasped Tern. “The devil never cancelled his orders after all. It was a trick!”

  Vivienne seized his arm. The Blue Peril paused and glanced back over its shoulder. It was almost lost in the gloom by now.

  “Run!” it called. “If you want to save yourselves, ran and get away from here. That missile is coming straight down again. I gave the necessary orders!”

  “Damn you!” Tern yelled. “You meant to do some damage, didn’t you?” But Vivienne was dragging at him urgently. He gave in. They ran for all they were worth, catching a last glimpse of the monster as it moved on towards the launching ramps, moving more slowly than ever now, sagging weakly at every stride.

  They just reached the edge of the forest in time. With an appalling roar and whistling howl some great fiery shape shot earthwards. The whole of the ground seemed to shiver and rise up in a fountaining gush of fire and debris. Tern and Vivienne flattened themselves to the cold earth, praying silently, battered by the blast and concussion. Earth, snow, pieces of stone fell and clattered all round them. It seemed to go on for hours, the first explosion of the missile being followed by others as the shock detonated other waiting projectiles.

  In a state of semi-consciousness, the two of them crawled further away. Behind them a terrible silence had fallen. No voice was raised either in pain or question; no human being could have lived through the holocaust inflicted on the site by the Blue Peril’s action in destroying it. Even the monster itself could not have survived.

  Tern reached a wooded crest, looking back at the smoking ruins of the launching site. His arm was round Vivienne’s shoulder, holding her close at his side. “Come on,” he said gently. “We aren’t clear yet remember.” In the distance a train sounded very faintly. Nearer, the rumble of a motor vehicle was audible. Shivering from the intense cold, Tern and Vivienne started off for the landing field. The reign of the Blue Peril was over, but they themselves were in a foreign country, surrounded by hostile forces and innumerable dangers yet to be faced. But they were together…

  Sure enough, the monster’s directions had been correct. Within a few minutes they were standing on the edge of a small clearing plainly used as a landing ground. And it did not take long to locate the light plane and warm it up. Tern said little of the perils ahead, but his face was grim as he taxied out for a take-off.

  The fighters picked them up just before they crossed the coast. Two came at them simultaneously. Only the fact that the plane was amazingly manoeuvrable enabled Tern to avoid the first onslaught of cannon fire. Then began a period of hide-and-seek in the low cloud. Several times they were attacked, and then, when it seemed that they lad at last thrown off pursuit by sheer evasive action, the engine stuttered and died its fuel exhausted. They were over the sea and Tern had lost his bearings.

  “This is it, sweet!” he muttered. “We’ve done all we can I’m afraid. You’re not frightened are you?”

  “Not now,” she whispered. “Not with you. Kiss me.”

  Their lips touched in what was to be a farewell caress as the plane began to glide more swiftly down towards the cold, inhospitable waves. Time seemed to hover endlessly. Tern opened his eyes and looked out through the side window, past Vivienne’s forehead, thinking hungrily of the life they were soon to end in each other’s arms, the life they had barely begun and which had promised to be so full. And now, when the plane struck the water, it would all be finished. There were no parachutes on board, no chance of rescue even if there had been.

  “Aren’t those lights?” muttered Vivienne with a sob.

  “Lights?” he snapped, disengaging himself. “Where?” But before she could even point with her hand he had seen them himself. A little distance to port he glimpsed the red and green of navigation lights, the glowing portholes of a ship. And there was still time; they still had enough height; the plane was gliding fast but on a level keel. In an instant he had seized the controls again, taken over from Fate. It didn’t matter who this ship was, what country she sailed from, she represented life to their hungry souls.

  Vivienne found and fired a Very pistol in the air. Tern flattened out fifty feet above the dark water, gliding swiftly towards the ship so as to land ahead of it.

  An answering light soared up from the bridge. He could even hear the bellow of the siren in acknowledgement. And then the long low hull of a rakish destroyer was visible as they streaked by. Next moment they touched, bounced up again, hesitated and finally pancaked on the icy water. The destroyer was fifty yards away, coming up fast. Tern and Vivienne were out of the cabin, clinging to the sinking aircraft by the time a boat was lowered and reached them.

  Concentration camp for the rest of our lives, thought Tern sourly. It might have been better to have pranged and done with it. Then a voice came floating to his ears:

  “Blimey, ’Arry, there’s a pore perishin’ gal as well! ’Ere, mate, catch ’old!” A line was thrown from the boat. Tern grabbed it, and before long he and Vivienne were being helped up the ladder to the deck of one of H.M. destroyers engaged on fishery patrol beyond the international limit.

  Never, thought Tern, had he realised what a blessing the British Navy could be. And then they were homeward bound for Portsmouth at the close of the patrol. There would be a lot of questions to answer, a lot that might not be believed, perhaps even official trouble to face and overcome, but the main thing was that there was no more Blue Peril, no more Brooking. And the imminent danger to their native land had been staved off.

  When he was put to bed in a narrow bunk after a stiff tot of rum it was to fall into a deep sleep, not on
ly of sheer exhaustion but of peace and the knowledge of peace. He and Vivienne were homeward bound, together.

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