"Just a minute or two, then we can turn it on and the pump will keep blowing automatically, as long as the supply of dust in our cargo hold holds up. "
"Hurry."
Donovan, Julie, and Sancho walked cautiously down the dim catwalk, peering anxiously ahead. A hiss from the shadows made them all jump. It was Lorraine. She led them quickly down the corridor, checking her chronometer. "A group that hasn't yet been immunized is taking this route to the escape shuttle," she said quietly. "They should be along any second."
A minute later they rounded a corner and came face to face with a group of Visitors. The three humans froze, until Lorraine stepped forward. "Scott! You must hurry! Martin is waiting at the escape shuttle!"
"Pull up your sleeves, quickly!" said Julie, stepping forward with an air-inject gun. Quickly, she inoculated each of the Fifth Columnists.
Lorraine fidgeted as Julie worked. "You must hurry. Diana is a poor loser. She'll blow your planet right out of this solar system if she perceives defeat."
"I know," Donovan said grimly.
"I don't know if you really do," she said. "You don't understand her the way one of her own can. I sneaked a look at the monitor showing the military center before I came down here. She and John are sitting there, listening to the reports from the ground troops and growing more and more concerned. She's armed the device. It only needs the insertion of two keys, hers and John's, plus a final coded sequence to begin the countdown."
"Martin told us this would be the way she'd play it. We voted on it, and we voted to take the chance."
"It's an insane plan. You're risking your world. I'd have voted against it."
"Your argument's a little late," he said wryly. "We're committed, and the only thing we can do is see this through. How do we reach Master Control from here?"
"I'll show you. You'll never find it otherwise."
They continued on into the dimness of the monster ship.
Ham Tyler stood in an open field, beneath a rosy-flushed dawn sky. He checked his watch, then gave the signal. "Okay, it's six A.M.! Let 'em go!"
At his signal, hundreds of hot-air balloons, varying in size, color, and decoration, began rising into the air. One or two balloons were clear, and in their depths swirled a reddish cloud of dust. Ham watched his own balloon, purchased specially for this occasion, go up. It was a huge black one, and on it was painted a blood-red "V."
He thought of the signal that would be going out all over the world, and of balloons rising over Cairo and London, Paris, Moscow, Sydney, Hong Kong, and New York. All the major cities of the world, and many of the smaller ones, with balloons rising on the air currents, their internal pressure carefully calculated so they'd explode within the specified portion of the atmosphere.
Some of the dust would drift back to earth, mingle harmlessly with the dirt and the water. The rest would become an organic, self-perpetuating adjunct to the atmosphere, making the planet forever unusable to the aliens.
Ham watched the balloons drift and skitter upward, smiling.
Sean Donovan awoke suddenly when a hand grasped his shoulder. He rolled over, frightened, and relaxed when he saw it was Arthur Dupres. "Grampa Arthur? What's going on?"
"Quiet." The big balding man put his finger to his lips. "There's a wonderful sight outside. I'm going to drive you up to the cabin in the mountains, and we'll see it together." He motioned Sean to get dressed.
"What is it?" asked the boy.
"Balloons, son. Thousands of 'em. All floating upward. It's beautiful."
"But why?"
"I'm not sure, but I think it's Earth's way of telling the Visitors good-bye. Hurry, Sean."
"Is Grandma coming?"
Arthur hesitated. "No, I don't think so, Sean. You know she doesn't like to get up early."
"So it'll be just you and me?" Sean had always liked his stepgrandfather—Grandpa Donovan had died before he'd been born. Going to the mountains with Grampa Arthur would be fun. But Sean frowned as he thought of something. "Grampa Arthur? My Dad's coming back for me. I've got to wait here."
"We'll be back tomorrow. I'll let him know you're with me."
"Okay," Sean said happily.
Dressed, they padded silently along the corridors of the big house, then down the stairs and out to the car. As Arthur started the engine, he looked back at the house, and there was something so sad in his face that Sean suddenly wanted to cry. "Grampa Arthur? Do you miss Grandma already?"
His stepgrandfather glanced at him, then put the car in gear. "Yes," he said, "I miss your grandma very much. I've missed her for a long time now."
The car headed down the street. Sean watched the sky, then shouted, "Grampa! I see the balloons! Aren't they beautiful?"
"They sure are, Sean," Arthur agreed. "I think they're the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."
Martin and William herded the Fifth Columnists aboard the escape shuttle, while Harmy nervously kept lookout. "Hurry up!" Martin urged them. "You've got to get out of here as quickly as possible! Diana's bound to pick up on the dust in the ventilator system soon!" A hose connected the cargo hold to the shaft.
As if his words had been a signal, an alarm began to chime, while a voice announced, "Defense alert for hostile humans. Defense alert. All personnel report to—" The voice continued, giving battle station locations.
William looked up at him. "I wonder if Donovan and Juliet made it?"
"You won't know till later," Martin said. "You, Maggie, Harmy, Elias, and Caleb have to go with Scott and the others. Drop the humans off near HQ before you head back to another ship." He looked up at the sound of Maggie's whistle, to see a squad of shock troopers trot into the northwest end of the docking bay, their guns ready.
At the same moment, Harmy, who was watching the south entrance, shouted, "Look out!"
The warning resounded through the cavernous docking bay, intercut by the pulse of weapons. Elias and Caleb ripped loose the hose from the shaft, spraying the toxin directly at the north-end troopers. Some fell, but others, unaffocted, continued to fire. A blast resounded from the weapon in the tail section of the escape shuttle. Looking up as he scuttled for cover, Willie saw Scott firing at the troops near the southern entrance.
A row of stored chemical canisters went up with a whoosh, and suddenly a fire was raging in the southern portion of the landing bay. Willie heard Martin, dimly, above the mayhem: "We've got to get out of here! Come on, Willie!"
William waved at the northernmost troopers. "Why are they still alive?"
"Those helmets are equipped with gas masks, if they were smart enough to use them in time. They've got about five minutes' worth of air. Get to the shuttle!"
Willie nodded and, gathering himself, rushed for the entrance to the escape shuttle, trying to spot Harmony in the chaos. He heard her scream, "Willie!"
He checked, trying to locate her, then suddenly she was in front of him, between him and the pulse of a rifle. She fell forward with an agonized scream, and only William's alien speed kept him from tripping over her. Quickly he grabbed her arms, dragging her behind the shelter of some loading equipment. Dimly, he saw Maggie race and dodge to cover, firing as she went, and saw the trooper who had shot Harmy fall.
Willie pulled her head into his lap, trying to find a pulse in her throat. "Harmony?"
Her eyes were open, but she didn't seem conscious. William found her pulse finally. It was very fast, and weakening steadily. "Harmony?" William said again. She'd been shot in the back, but he hated to pick her up to examine the wound. He didn't want to see it. It was obvious, even to his limited experience with human physiology, that she was dying. Her breath came in more and more painful gasps.
He bent over her, numb with grief and shock, wishing his people had the surcease of tears. Humans cried when they felt grief, and it seemed to help. He could do nothing but touch her fading pulse and wish it had been him. It would have been so much easier that way.
"Harmony?" he called again, without much hope, and this
time she heard him. She blinked, and the blue eyes that had been so fixed in pain focused on him.
"Willie?" Her voice was so faint the sounds of battle drowned it out, but he knew she'd spoken his name.
"Harmony." He held her against him, feeling her bones suddenly sharp and brittle beneath her skin. Her skin that was real, not a covering. Her fragile, broken skin, covering a fragile, broken body.
"Willie . . ." She made an effort, and her words reached him. "You've got to go. It's not safe."
"Please, Harmony." He didn't know what he was begging her for. Not to die? That was ridiculous, but perhaps to wait for a second. He said it again "Please, Harmony . . ." Then the words were there, the words he could probably never have voiced, if it hadn't been for this sudden knowledge that there was no more time in which to speak them. "I love you, Harmony."
She made the faintest nod. "I know. Go, Willie."
"No, I won't leave you." He held her tightly, as though he could contain the life in her body with his arms. "I will stay with you forover."
Her mouth curved upward infinitesimally, the fading shadow of a smile. "Forever, Willie."
He crouched over her in the flaming landing bay, holding her, waiting. When the shock troopers had been beaten back, and the escape shuttle was ready to close its hatches, Martin found him there.
Martin dropped to his knees beside them, putting a finger on Harmy's throat. "She's dead, Willie."
"I know." William stared dully at nothing.
"You have to get out. I'll help you carry her."
William didn't answer.
"Come on, Willie. She'd want you to get away."
"I know," William said. Harmony would want him to get away, go back with his people. He thought about what would happen when they returned to their planet. Martin had spoken of contacting the Alliance, using captured Mother Ships to help defeat the Leader and bring peace. He looked down at her face again. Peace. Harmony had believed in it. She would want that.
"I'm ready," he said, climbing to his feet. "I can carry her myself."
Diana's mouth was an ugly gash as she leaned forward to speak with the ground forces. "Commander, I want you to return immediately with as many troops as you can muster within three minutes."
"We're on our way."
She turned to John. "Whatever they're trying to pull, they don't stand a chance."
John nodded, then stiffened, his fingers dancing over the strategy board. "What's this? Airborne images, thousands of them!"
"Fighters? Jets?"
"No, they're much too small, most of them. They're climbing, but straight up, as though they're lighter than air."
Diana switched on the viewscreen, and they saw them. "Balloons?" she said incredulously. "Is this some kind of joke?"
"They aren't attached to anything."
"No. Why would they release thousands of balloons and just let them . . . rise? Into the atmosphere?" She froze, staring horrified at the colorful display as a possible explanation occurred to her.
"They don't actually think these balloons are going to divert us from the raid on the air force bases, do they?" John was puzzled.
Diana whirled on him savagely. "Don't you understand yet? The air force bases were just a diversion. They're not going to use jets to disperse their toxin; it's in the balloons!"
"How primitive. Even millions of balloons could hardly deliver enough toxin to do us much harm."
"You—" She threw up her hands. "Don't you see? All they need to do is release a comparatively small amount into the atmosphere at the proper altitude for the bacteria to survive, and it will reproduce. The damned stuff will multiply, contaminating the water, becoming part of the living organisms—the whole food chain! Very quickly, everything on Earth is going to be poisonous to us!"
"But perhaps we can collect them before they burst—"
"If they're smart enough to figure this out, they're smart enough to have filled them with enough pressure to get them as high as they want them, then they'll burst. They're much cleverer than I ever gave them credit for."
"A fatal miscalculation . . . for all of us."
"We're safe in here," she said.
"So far," he reminded her grimly. "But frankly, I don't much relish the idea of spending my life locked up here with you."
"Be quiet," Diana said absently. She turned back to study the colorful wind-riding flotilla, her mind racing as she tried to come up with a solution. "Damn them!"
Steven looked out the third-floor window at the troops scattered over the lawn of the Visitor Headquarters, sprawled where they had died. The resistance forces advanced steadily. "What am I going to do?" he asked Eleanor frantically.
"I don't know," she said, clutching his desk as if it would anchor her to the earth, keep her from flying up off the chair in sheer panic. "That red dust they exploded in those bombs—I suppose it would kill you too?"
"It killed them," Steven said. "It would be nice to imagine that I'm immune, but also rather silly."
"Don't be sarcastic! I don't know what to do! I came here for protection from the mob that was surrounding my home. I barely made it here!"
"You've got to help me," he said, looking out at the approaching fighters. A man with steel-gray hair was in the lead, another younger man with dark brown hair beside him. "Tell them I surrender. Tell them I ask for mercy!"
"All right," Eleanor said, joining him at the window. "That's Robert Maxwell. He's my neighbor—he won't let anything happen to me. Go into the other room. We don't want them to think you're using me for a hostage or a trap."
"Very well," Steven said, crossing the room toward his secretary's office.
Eleanor waited until he had closed the door, then opened the window all the way, leaning out so they could see her "Don't shoot! I'm Eleanor Dupres, Michael Donovan's mother! I'm one of you! The leader of this headquarters is here, and I'm being held prisoner by him. Help me!"
As they looked up at her, hesitating, Steven's voice came from behind her. "You double-crossing bitch! Did you think I'm so stupid I wouldn't listen?" His gun pulsed.
The fatal shot thrust Eleanor through the window, her body toppling the three stories to the concrete drive below.
"Master Control is just ahead," Lorraine said, then tensed. "There's someone coming up behind us. Fast."
Donovan, Julie, and Sancho turned and drew a bead on the corridor "I don't hear anything," Julie said, peering anxiously into the dimness.
"Neither did she," Mike said. "They can sense the vibrations of movement."
A figure darted in view, moving with the blurring quickness of a Visitor "Don't shoot!" It was Martin.
"Did the escape shuttle get away?" Julie asked.
"Yes," said Martin. "But Harmy didn't make it."
"Oh, no," she whispered.
"Martin, do you have your access card?" Lorraine asked.
"Here," he replied, walking to a portal ahead, inserting the bit of plastic. After a moment he looked up. "Diana must've jammed the opening mechanism!"
Donovan aimed his weapon. "We'll have to blast it, then. Somebody keep watch. We don't want to tangle with any more shock troopers."
Diana activated the monitor screens that filled the room. Visitors lay sprawled everywhere in the corridors of the Mother Ship, and a flashing readout of the air circulation systems verified that the toxin was continuing to spread death aboard. The monitor of their L.A. Headquarters showed the body of Steven slumped in the hall, where he'd been caught as he'd attempted to escape. From the way he was lying, it was impossible to tell what had killed him. The resistance fighters were having a party on the lawn, toasting each other with the contents of several kegs of beer. The Visitor flag was down.
The international monitors revealed similar scenes of human victory and alien death. Diana's jaw hardened. "Silly children. They celebrate nothing but the death of their world."
She turned to regard John. "Your key?"
"The Fleet is beginning to leave orbit
. We'll have to hurry," he said, tongue darting in his nervousness.
"Oh, we'll get away," she said, "but first I'll scatter this planet to the solar winds."
"Why?" John stared at her "We've lost, Diana. They've defeated us. Our ground troops aren't going to make it back. It's over. Don't you understand? Or can't your vanity handle that?"
There was a tiny sound from the emergency hatchway on the other side of the control room. The small hatch opened on a ladder that led down to a shuttle that could be launched from Master Control, designed to be the final escape for those manning the communications and military center. Diana strode over to the hatch and opened it, her weapon ready in her hand.
Elizabeth stared up at her expressionlessly from the deck below. She was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees. Diana motioned her to climb the ladder.
"Who is that?" John asked as the child emerged. "A human?"
"Not exactly. We'll take her with us when we go, I think. Her mind has too much potential to be lost to our people. She's Robin Maxwell's daughter, by Brian."
John looked skeptically at the child. "Whose side is she on?"
"Ours, of course," Diana snapped. "Hurry, John. Your key."
The sound of laser pistols came from the main portal. "They're breaking through," John said. "We must hurry and get aboard the escape vessel!"
"Your key, John!"
He stared at her. "No. I'll not be part of this. It's obscene, destroying a world just to salve your ego."
The muzzle of her sidearm centered on his face. "Think again, John."
Reluctantly, he handed her his key. Moving with quick precision, she inserted both keys. The countdown began.
John looked at the second-in-command disgustedly. "Pamela said you were ambitious, Diana, but she underestimated you. There's a level of ambition that transcends rationality. You killed Pamela, didn't you? You're insane!"
"Shut up," Diana said, and shot him.
"We're almost through!" Sancho shouted, as the lock of the portal began to glow cherry-red. From inside they heard the pulse of a Visitor weapon.
Even as he spoke, a discordant whine echoed through the dead corridors. Martin held his ears. "It's the device! She's activated it!"
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