Her ankles were much larger than any Earthwoman's should have been. Her wrists were those of a six-foot-four, two-hundred-fifty-pound timberman. Her musculature, from toenails to ears to fingertips, would have made all the beach boys of Southern California turn green with envy.
After a few seconds of posing, she turned her head and looked down at her brother Jules, on a perch sixty-one feet below her and an "impossible" sixty-four feet off to one side. Then, flexing her knees and swinging her horizontally outstretched arms in ever-increasing arcs, she put more and more power into her tightly stretched steel-and Jules, grasping a flying ring in his left hand, began to flex his knees and move his body in precise synchronization with the natural period of the girl-wire system so far above him. Finally, in the last cycle through which she could hold the wire, Yvette squatted and drove both powerful legs downward and to her right-and something snapped, with a harsh, metallic report as loud as a pistol shot.
The wire, all its terrific tension released instantly as one end broke free and dropped, coiled itself up in the air with metallic whinings and slitherings; and Yvette d'Alembert, premiere aerialiste of all civilization, sprawling helplessly in mid-air, began her long fall to the floor.
Eighteen d'Alemberts came to life on their perches, seized all the equipment they could reach, and hurled it all at the falling girl. One of her frantically reaching fingertips barely touched the bar of one swinging trapeze; none of the other apparatus came even close.
Jules, in the lowest position. had more time than did any of the others; but he did not have a millisecond to spare. In the instant of the break he went outward and downward alone the arc of the ninety-eight-foot radius of his tophung flying ring. His aim was true and the force of launching had been precisely right.
Yvette was falling face down, flat and horizontal, at a speed of over seventy feet a second as she neared the point of meeting. Jules, rigidly vertical at the bottom of his prodigious swing, was moving almost half that fast. In the instant before a right-angle collision that would have smashed any two ordinary athletes into masses of bloody flesh. two strong right hands smacked together in the practically unbreakable hand-over-wrist grip of the aerialist and Yvette spun and twisted like a cat-except much faster. Both her feet went flat against his hard, flat belly. Her hard-sprung knees and powerful leg muscles absorbed most of the momentum of his mass and speed. Then, at the last possible instant, her legs went around his waist and locked behind his back, and his right hand flashed up to join his left in gripping the ring.
That took care of the horizontal component of energy, but the vertical one was worse-much worse; almost twice as great. Its violence drove their locked bodies downward and into a small but vicious arc; a savagely wrenching violence that would have broken any ordinary man's back in a fraction of a second. But Jules d'Alembert, although only five feet eight in height, had a mass of two hundred twenty-five pounds, most of which was composed of superhard, super-reactive muscle; unstretchable. unbreakable gristle; and super-dense, super-strong, horse-sized bone. His arms were as large as, and immensely stronger than, an ordinary Earthman's legs.
The two bodies, unstressed now relative to each other, began to hurtle downward together, at an angle of thirty degrees from the vertical, toward the edge of the ring facing the reserved-seat and box section of the stands.
The weakest point in the whole stressed system was now Jules' grip on that leather-covered steel ring. Could he hold it? Could he possibly hold it? Not one person in all that immense audience moved a muscle: not one of them even breathed. He held his grip for just under half a second, held it while that half-inch nylon cable stretched a good seven feet, held it while the entire supporting framework creaked and groaned. Then the merest moment before that frightful fall would have been arrested and both would have been safe, Jules' hands slipped from the ring and both began to fall the remaining forty feet to the ground.
A high-speed camera, however, would have revealed the fact that they did not fall out of control, Each landed in perfect position. Hard-sprung knees took half of the shock of landing; bard-sprung elbows took half of what was left. Heads bent low on chests; powerful leg muscles drove forward; thick, hard shoulders and back muscles struck the floor in perfect rolls; and both brother and sister somersaulted lightly to their feet.
Hand in hand, they posed motionless for a moment; then bowed deeply in unison. turned and ran lightly to an exit and they covered that one hundred yards of distance in less than five seconds.
And the multitude of spectators went wild.
They had seen a girl falling to certain death. They had felt a momentary flash of relief-or actually of disappointment?-when it seemed as though her life might be saved. Then they had watched two magnificently alive young people fall, if not to certain death, at least to maiming, crippling injury. Then, in the climactic last split second, the whole terrible accident had become the grand finale of the act.
That it was a grand finale-a crashing smash of a finish -there was no possible doubt. The only question was, what emotion predominated in that shrieking, yelling, clapping, jeering, cheering, whistling and catcalling throng of Earth-people-relief, appreciation or disappointment?
Whatever it was, however, they had all had the thrill of a life-time; and few if any of them could understand how it could possibly have been done.
For of the teeming billions of people inhabiting the nine hundred forty-two other planets of the Empire of Earth, scarcely one in a million had ever even heard of the planet DesPlaines. Of those who had heard of it, comparatively few knew that its surface gravity was approximately three thousand centimeters per second squared-more than three times that of small, green Earth. And most of those who knew that fact neither knew nor cared that harsh, forbidding, hostile DesPlaines was the home world of the Circus of the Galaxy and of The Family d'Alembert.
II
The Service of the Empire (SOTS) was founded in 2239 by Empress Stanley 3, the first of the Great Stanleys, who, during her reign of 37 years (2237-2274) inculcated in it the spirit of loyalty and devotion that has characterized it ever since. Its spirit wavered only once, under weak and vicious Empress Stanley 5, whose reign-fortunately very short (2293-2299)-was calamitous in every respect. SOTE came to full power, however, only under Emperor Stanley 10 (reign 2379- ), the third and greatest of the Great Stanleys, under whom it became the finest organization of its kind ever known. (Baird, A Study of Security, Ed. 2447, p. 291).
The Brawl in the Dunedin Arms
The city of Tampeta, Florida, had a population of over fifteen million. It included, not only what had once been Tampa, St. Petersburg and Clearwater, but also all the other cities and villages between Sarasota on the south and Port Richey on the north. Just outside Tampeta's city limit, well out toward Lakeland, Jay the Pinellas Fair Ground. There the Circus of the Galaxy had been playing to capacity crowds for over a week, with a different show especially with an entirely different climax-every night.
Jules and Yvette d'Alembert, as top stars of the show, of course had private dressing rooms. They also had private entrances. Thus no one connected with the show saw, and no one else either noticed or cared, that two short, fat Delfians, muffled to the eyes in the shapelessly billowing robes and hoods of their race, joined one of the columns of people moving slowly toward the exit leading to the immense parking lot. It took them half an hour to get to their car, but they were in no hurry.
Out of the traffic jam at last, Jules maneuvered his heavy vehicle up into the second-level, west-bound Interstate Four and sped for the Dunedin district and the Dunedin Arms, one of the plushiest night spots in all North America. At the Arms, he gave a dollar to the parking-lot attendant, another to the resplendently-uniformed doorman and a third to the usher who escorted them ceremoniously into the elevator and up to the fourth floor. At the check-stand the two Delfians refused-as expected-to part with any of their mufflings Jules did, however-also as expected-give the provocatively clad hat-check girl a do
llar before he handed his reservation slip and a five-dollar bill to the bowing captain.
"Thank you, sir and madam," that worthy said. "We are very glad indeed to have you with us this evening" Mister and Miss Tygven. Will you have your table now, or perhaps a little later?"
"A little later, I think," Jules said, using faultlessly the Russo-English "Empirese" that was the court language of the Empire. He paused then, and gazed about the huge room. At his right, along the full two-hundred-foot length of the room, ran the subduedly ornate, mirror-backed bar. At his left were three tremendous windows overlooking the beach and the open Gulf. Heavy tables of genuine oak, not too closely spaced, filled the place except for a large central dance floor. On a stage at the far end of the room a spotlighted, red-haired stripper was doing her stuff. Priceless paintings and fabulous tapestries adorned the walls. Suits of armor dating from the ancient days of chivalry stood on pedestals and niches here and there. The place was jammed with a gay, colorful and festive crowd; there were only a few vacant places even at that tremendously long bar.
It was quite evident why the captain had suggested a short delay, so Jules said, "Yes, later, please. We will do a little serious drinking at the bar before we eat."
And at the bar, Jules laid a fifty-dollar bill on the oak and said, "A liter of vodnak, please. Estvan's, if you have it. In the original bottle-sealed."
"We have it, Mister." The bar-tender set out two glasses, a bowl of ice and the heavy, crudely molded, green-glass bottle of the one-hundred-and-twenty-proof beverage that was the favoured tipple of the rim-world, Delf. "We've got everything. And don't worry about it not being the clear quill. We don't cheat. With our prices we don't have to," and he put down on the bar a dollar and fifteen cents in change, which Jules waved away.
Before Jules opened the bottle-he was looking into the mirror, and so was Yvette-the man at Yvette's left finished his drink and moved away, and a tall, slim Earthman came up to take his place. Holding up one finger to the bartender, the newcomer said"
"I'll take a jigger of the... ."
That was as far as he got. "Rube!" Yvette snapped throughout the years, half of the old-time circus battle-cry of "Hey Rube!" had survived. She grabbed the heavy bottle by its neck, and hurling it even as she dropped-dropped safely under the vicious blaster-beam that, having incinerated the slender Earthman, swept through the space her chest bad occupied an instant before. Still in air, falling almost flat, she braced one foot against the bar, dived headlong under the nearest table, bent her back and heaved.
The blaster-beam, however, had already expired. The heavy bottle, still full and still sealed, hurled with a DesPlainian's strength and with an aerialist's sure control, had struck bottom-on squarely in the middle of the gunner's face-and that gunner now had no face at all and scarcely enough head to be recognizable as human.
Jules, too, was busy. He too had dropped at his sister's warning word, scanning the room as he fell. He too made a dive; but his was high and far, toward a table for six at which only two couples sat. One of the men at that table, half hidden behind a tall and statuesque blonde, had started to rise to his feet and was reaching for his left armpit.
Jules lit flat on the table and slid angle-wise across its length, in a welter of breaking and flying dishes, glassware, silverware, food and drink, directly at the man trying so frantically to draw his weapon. En route, Jules brushed the blonde aside. He didn't push her hard at all-just a one handed gentle shove; just enough to get her out of the way. Nevertheless, she went over backward, chair and all, and performed an involuntary back somersault-thus revealing to all interested observers that she wore only a lacy trifle of nylon in the way of underwear.
Continuing his slide, Jules made a point of his left elbow and rammed it into the man's gut. Then, as the man doubled up and "w-h-o-o-s-h-e-d" in agony, Jules whirled to his feet off of the table and chopped the hard edge of his right hand down onto the back of his victim's neck-which broke with a snap audible for dozens of feet above the uproar then going on. Then, seizing the man's half-drawn weapon-it was a stun-gun, not a blaster-he glanced at its dial. Ten. Wide open. Instantly lethal. Clicking it back to three-a half-hour stun-he played its beam briefly over the other man at the table (the guy had been too quiet and too unconcerned by far during all this action) and whirled around to see how his sister was making out.
Yvette was doing all right. The table under which she had disappeared had leaped into the air, turned over shedding dishes and so forth far and wide and crashed down onto the table at which the first blasterman and three other goons had been sitting. She had picked the blaster up and had tried to bend it around the side of Number Two's head; but it broke up almost as thoroughly as the head did. Ducking as only such a performer as she was could duck, she grabbed Number Three by the ankles, up-ended him, kicked the flaming blaster out of his hand before it could kill more than three innocent bystanders and was going to use him as a flail on Number Four when that unlucky (or lucky) wight slumped bonelessly to the floor in the beam of her brother's stunner.
She had the motion all made-why waste it?-So, continuing her swing, she hammer-threw Number Three over a few rows of tables and out into fifty feet of air through the middle of one of the three immense windows already mentioned.
Have you ever heard four hundred and thirty-two square feet of three-eighths-inch-thick plate glass shatter all at once? It makes a noise.
Such a noise that all lesser noises stopped instantly. And in that strained, tense silence Jules spoke quietly to his sister. Both were apparently perfectly calm. Neither breathed one count faster than normal. Only their eyes his a glacially cold grey; hers a furiously hot blue-showed how angry and how disconcerted they both were. "Many more of 'em, you think?" he asked.
"Not to spot." Yvette shook her head. "And we've got no time to check."
"Right. Take that one, I'll bring the other. Flit." Carrying two unconscious men, the two ran lightly, but at terrific speed, down three flights of stairs and out into the parking lot. The attendant, upon seeing what burdens they carried, tried simultaneously to run and to yell, but accomplished neither-a half-hour stun saw to that.
Tortured rubber shrieked and smoked as the heavy car spun out of the lot and into the highway. Fortunately, traffic was so light-it was then half past two in the morning-that Jules did not have to drive far before a moment came when no other car was in sight.
The d'Alembert vehicle, while it looked pretty much like an ordinary ground car, was a little too long and too wide and too round and much too heavy to be any standard model. Thus, alone in the road for a moment, Jules punched three buttons and three things happened: 1) the car's lights went out; 2) from those too-round sides the two halves of an air-tight, bulletproof, transparent canopy shot up, snapped together, and locked; and 3) the vehicle went straight up, at an acceleration of four Earthly gravities-having two Earthers aboard they couldn't hurry to-an altitude of a hundred and ninety thousand feet before it stopped.
Jules and Yvette removed what was left of their Delfian costumes-which wasn't very much-and stared wordlessly into each other's eyes for a long half minute. Then Yvette spoke:
"That was our contact. Our only contact. And we don't know anybody in SOTE on Earth ... and there was a leak. There had to be a leak, Julie."
"That's for sure, and it was no ordinary leak, either. It had to be right in the Head's own office... :' Jules voice died away.
Yvette shivered. "I'm afraid so. And we haven't an inkling, except for his retinal pattern, of who the Head is or where he is. He may not be on Earth, even."
"Well, there'll be somebody in the Tampeta office here and they'll be on the alert. That brawl put the stuff into the fan but good. They'll be monitoring the channel every second."
"But our friends' friends down there will he monitoring all channels every second-and they probably have the codes."
He thought for a moment, then grinned. "So I'll go back to one that's so old and so simple that they p
robably never heard of it ... unless it'd fool our monitor, too ... uh-uh. Whoever they've got on monitor right now is no dumb bunny; so here goes."
He flipped a blue switch and raised his powerful-and not too unmusical-deep bass voice in song: "Sing of the evening star, Oh Susan; sweetest old tune ever sung. Oh, Susan, sweet one, 'tis... .
"Susan here." A lilting, smooth-as-cream contralto voice came from the speaker. There was a moment of silence" then the voice said "Cut!" and Jules flipped his switch; whereupon the voice concluded, "We'll beep in. Out."
"I'll say they're alert!" Yvette exclaimed; then went on, half-giggling in relief. "And she's fast on the trigger.'Susan here' my left eyeball. You made that whole thing up, didn't you, on the spur of the moment."
"Uh-huh. If I'd had a little time the verse would have been as good as the music."
Yvette snorted. "Ha! Modesty, thy name is Jules! I expect them to tap you for the Met any minute now. But you were right on one thing-no dumb bunny could make 'S-O-T-E-S-O-S' so fast out of that mess of yowling. But it won't really be a beeper, you think?"
"Anything else but. My guess is a laser. They've got us lined up and they'll pour it right into our cup-so I'd better set the cup to spinning."
He did so, and in less than a minute the pencil-thin beam came in, chopped up into evenly-spaced dashes by the rotation of the cup-antenna of the car. There was of course no voice or signal.
While Jules was manipulating his finders to determine the exact line of the beam, he said, "Better unlimber the launchers, Evie, and break out some bombs. Just in case somebody wants to argue with us on the way. I'll handle the other stuff."
"That's a thought-" She broke off; her tone changed, "But just suppose that's their beam?"
"Could be; so we'll have to look a little bit out when we land. But they know that. So if everything's okay they'll engineer a safe approach-we won't have to. They know who we are." Things had gone wrong. They had given the right signal at the rendezvous-but the wrong people had responded. Now they had to find out why!
The Best of E E 'Doc' Smith Page 24
