by Various
He knew however, that the end was already written in the bloody sands around him. He could only fight to the last moment, bringing down as many of the enemy as possible.
His heart was sick at what would surely be Doree's fate. He saw her just beyond the perimeter of battle still held by her two captors who were viewing the fight with rapt interest. If he could only reach her. One swing of his gun butt and she would serve no vile purpose in the hands of these raiders.
Mike mowed a bloody path in her direction. He covered more than half the distance before he knew he would never make it.
However, the end of this affair was not written in the sands, but in the skies overhead. Mike realized this when the attackers stopped fighting, all eyes turned heavenward in sudden terror. Mike's eyes followed theirs and he saw the ship.
* * * * *
It was a craft such as he could never have imagined in dream or reverie. A great rectangular platform, its polished sides inlaid with gold and fist-sized gems. There was a high railing around its edge over which myriad faces peered down. Above it, elevated upon shining cables, were two glowing balls not more than two feet in diameter, and even in his preoccupation with more serious matters, Mike realized the whole craft was suspended from these two balls, that they were its means of buoyancy.
Then he was in the midst of a disordered flight as the warriors charged screaming back to the forest. The ship was settling swiftly toward the surface of the river and now a crystalline ray of some sort shot out from the forward deck, cutting down the terrorized warriors in their flight.
* * * * *
Every able-bodied one had fled the scene of battle. Some gained the forest where the crystalline ray crisped the overgrowth into black ashes as it nipped at their singed heels. Those not fortunate enough to escape were but small nubs of blackened ashes on the open shore.
The ray had avoided touching the heart of the battleground and Mike found himself standing alone among the bodies of the blacks he had dispatched. Nicko was getting wearily to his feet. Doree stood frozen nearby, abandoned by her captors, the great ship holding her gaze as a snake would hold that of a bird.
The ship hung motionless a few inches above the rushing water, its port side flanking the shore. And as a section of the railing arced down from its position to become a landing ladder, Mike realized the futility of delayed flight.
This was a fighting ship; a patrol craft ready and able to spread devastation in any direction. There were perhaps a hundred men aboard and as a squad filed down the ladder, Mike was struck by the perfection of their six-foot bodies and by the pride and arrogance of their manner.
Their attitude was one of casual contempt mixed with mild interest. Doree had moved into the shelter of his arm and the grumbling Nicko had also come close but with interest centered more upon his aching scales than this new possible enemy.
While the squad stood at attention, their leader surveyed the bloody section of shore. He checked each of the prone men and found only one still alive, a seven-foot, ebon-skinned warrior who got to his feet when the leader kicked him and stood erect but swaying drunkenly from the blow Mike had laid across his skull during the battle.
Shoving the warrior roughly toward the silent trio, the leader took a small object from the gold-inlaid shoulder sack that seemed to be a part of his uniform. The object consisted of a short rod with a crystal ball on one end. The man grasped the ball in his palm, pointed the rod at the fallen men and began spraying them with the same crystalline ray that had emanated from the ship. The resulting fire was instantaneous and intense. The prone bodies crackled for a moment and were reduced to charred fragments. The leader went about this work with the distasteful look of a man cleaning out a garbage pail. When the task was finished, he turned his attention to the four prisoners.
* * * * *
Nicko was the prime object of his interest. He cut the little Martian out of the group, shoving him roughly aside, then walked slowly around him several times as though unable to convince himself that such an improbable creature could really exist.
A sharp command from the deck of the ship terminated his inspection and he spoke brusquely to the group in a tongue Mike did not understand.
"What did he say?" Mike asked of Nicko.
For once, the latter was not interested. "How do I know?" he growled. "Gad! My aching back!"
The leader motioned to the squad, whereupon the prisoners were pushed toward the ladder.
The boarding was accomplished swiftly. The prisoners were herded forward and onto a gold-inlaid bench just above the prow. The ladder was lifted and the craft moved straight upward like an elevator.
After ascending three or four hundred yards, it leveled off and swept gently forward, down-river. None of those aboard laid hands upon the prisoners. Nicko was still the center of attention and also of the conversation passed among the soldiers. They were handsome specimens, erect and beautifully built, clad in identical uniforms the cost of which would have been staggering on Terra or anywhere else in the System.
"This ship," Mike said. "Is there anything familiar about it?"
He had spoken to Doree and the latter looked at him questioningly and then glanced about the ship. "I've certainly never seen anything like it before."
"Of course not, but the styling, the decorations, they could only be classed as--"
"Egyptian!"
"At least a forerunner of what we consider Egyptian. And this river. Look out ahead of us. See how it broadens. See the wide level fields on either side."
"The Nile," Doree whispered.
"Not the Nile, but obviously a sister. The Egyptians who fled this planet certainly hunted until they found exactly what they wanted--found it on Terra in a system far from their own."
Mike turned his attention to a conversation that was going on between Nicko and the black prisoner. The language was a primitive guttural of some sort but Nicko was obviously using it skilfully. He grinned at Mike and said, "We were wrong about those people. They are fine characters. This is M'landa, a leader of the tribe known as the H'Lorkas--or at least that's as close as I can give it to you in Terran. He is an extremely fine fellow."
"Is that so?" Mike asked grimly. "Then why did they grab Doree?"
"They meant her no harm. They didn't want her injured."
"I can imagine why. And if they're such fine fellows why did they attack us?"
The question seemed to embarrass Nicko. "I guess my aim wasn't so bad after all. They were keeping a sharp eye on us--wishing us no harm whatever. But when I fired, I killed one so they naturally got sore."
* * * * *
"What does he know about this outfit?"
"Scoundrels. We would have been better off with the H'Lorkas. This is a patrol ship of the Ptomenites. They are the tyrants of this planet, their power contested only by the people of Baserite to the north. But the Baserites always come out on the bloody end of the stick."
"Has he any idea what will happen to us?"
"He expects to be sacrificed to some slob of a god they worship. Then his body will be preserved and put in a trophy room they call the Gallery of the Dead."
Mike turned a quick, meaningful look at Doree, but he had no time to comment because at that moment the door of a small cabin opened and a girl came forth. The cabin was aft of the ship and the girl came swiftly forward, pride and arrogance written in every line of her beautiful body.
But it was not these qualities that caused Mike to gasp and Doree to blush deeply. It was the regal figure's almost complete nudity. She wore only the briefest of attire across her breast and hips.
"My dark friend says that's Katal'halee, Princess of the Ptomenites," Nicko whispered. "She rides along with the boys once in a while for the exhilarating pleasure of it."
"I imagine the boys get a little pleasure out of having her along, too," Mike said.
Then, with the queenly nude not a dozen feet away, Doree grasped Mike's arm. He glanced across and saw that her eyes we
re sweeping past Katal'halee to the small cabin. Its door had again opened. Two men emerged and moved forward. They seemed entirely at home and wore smug smiles.
"Lorn McKee!" Doree gasped. "Dean Talbott!"
The Terran origination of these two was obvious. McKee was bald, paunchy, middle-aged, his face loose from easy living. Talbott tended toward the more athletic figure. He was dark, his eyes clear and sharp, his mouth cruel.
"Surprise," Nicko said with a noticeable lack of warmth in his voice. "Bet you never expected to see us on your front porch."
* * * * *
Talbott smiled coldly. "Yes, and no. After we left you in space we thought we were rid of you. But we saw you tagging after us when we were over the planet and it was too late to do anything about it. Congratulations. How did you manage it?"
"What have you done with my father?" Doree asked.
Talbott pondered the loathing in her eyes. It did not seem to bother him. "Your father is well taken care of. He will be--" McKee raised a delicate hand. "But the details would only horrify you."
Mike was on his feet and had the Terran by the throat. Talbott gagged and flailed helplessly. He was no weakling, but still not a match for Mike's strength and rage.
The haughty-eyed native girl had been standing silent, regarding the tableaux. Now she snapped a command and two soldiers stepped forward and seized Mike. A third hit Mike a vicious blow across the skull with the flat of an ugly jeweled sword he carried. Mike staggered and fell back on the bench, blood running from his scalp.
Talbott rubbed his throat and adjusted his clothing. Viciousness shone in his eyes. "We had no great animosity toward you before, but now--"
"That's why you left us stranded in space?" Mike asked.
"It was just that we did not want to bloody our hands killing you but you had to be got out of the way."
* * * * *
"Well, we're in the way now."
"Not at all. We have had time to put ourselves in solid with these fierce but rather stupid people. We've also had time to arrange for this hostile reception accorded you. We told them--"
"I can't see that it matters what you told them. We can see the result."
"I'm more interested in how you got to them," Nicko said. "You don't know their lingo."
"There are ways if one has the time." McKee had come forward and was regarding Nicko with interest. He was not alone. Katal'halee and every soldier within range was also regarding him with interest. "Just what manner of creature is this, anyhow?" Talbott asked.
"Why you slab-sided slob--!" Nicko yelled.
Talbott flushed and took a backward step. The three soldiers moved forward, scowling.
"Take it easy," Mike said. "We know how we stand. It's just as well we don't antagonize these people any further until we can get some kind of foothold."
"You'll get a foothold," McKee sneered. "In the priests' embalming rooms." With that, he turned and walked away, obviously satisfied with the situation. Talbott turned to follow him. He bowed to Katal'halee as though awaiting her pleasure. The proud native Princess appeared to have had enough of this spectacle and moved haughtily aft. As he followed her, Talbott glanced swiftly back at the prisoners as if to say: See how solidly we're in? You haven't got a chance. This was all too evident.
"What do you suppose they're up to?" Mike asked.
Doree looked up questioningly. "What do you mean?"
"They aren't just here to enjoy the hospitality of these people. They've got something more in mind."
"They're after the loot, what else?" Nicko said.
"If you're right and I think you are, they must have a plan. And if the plan is what I think it is, they've got their ship ready for a quick blast-off."
Doree's face was tight with inner turmoil. "We've got to find father! We've got to help him!"
Mike took her hand. "We'll do our best, but you must keep a grip on yourself. Your going to pieces won't help."
Doree made an effort. "I'm sorry. I'll--"
Her words were broken off by sudden activity on the ship. Mike glanced out and noted the landscape had changed to one of broad cultivation. The rough jungle country had completely vanished. Obviously the ship had been moving at great speed, its effect on the passengers lessened by the huge glass shield in front of the ship's prow. Looking ahead, he could see the spires of a city in the distance.
But this was not the object of the patrol's concern. Their eyes were riveted to another ship--a strange shining craft that was moving in from the left at great speed.
Mike heard shouts of both consternation and anger in the odd tongue of these people as they appeared to be girding for battle.
The approaching ship was of radically different design than the one on which they were trapped. It was completely of metal and had no golden or jeweled decorations. It was long and slim and completely enclosed and had the appearance of a true fighting ship. None of its passengers were visible.
Nicko had been talking to the feathered warrior. The latter had sat silent during the brush with McKee and Talbott and Mike had almost forgotten his presence.
* * * * *
Nicko turned in excitement. "He says that's a Baserite raider! He says it's very seldom they come in so close but that one's planning to raise general hell with this scow. This isn't one of the Ptomenite's fighter fleet and we'll have a pretty rough time."
The golden craft was following a two-pronged plan. The Ptomenites were spraying the sky with their deadly crystal ray and at the same time kiting for home as fast as the ship would go. Out beyond, the slim ship did a remarkable roll to avoid the ray and screamed in for the kill.
The wind was howling around the Ptomenite ship now, and her timbers groaned under the pressure. Then the Baserite craft attempted a strike. It appeared to be trying for only a close arc but at the last moment it nosed down in a breathtaking maneuver and streaked straight for the exposed deck.
* * * * *
Frantically, the Ptomenites brought their ray gun around to bear on the death-laden juggernaut. They were partially successful, spitting forth a deadly barrage just as the prow of the attacker crashed into the deck.
Had the blow been uncontested, the Baserite ship would have roared on through and gone its way in triumph. But the crystalline force-field crashed out with a viciousness of its own. It had no seeming effect upon the hull of the Baserite raider, but it hurled the craft back from its position and far out into the sky.
Great damage had already been done, however. A gaping hole left the bejeweled deck almost split in two. But by lucky chance, the overhead globes had not been damaged and the speed of the Ptomenite ship did not diminish.
It was streaking toward the city, now seen clearly from the deck and as the Baserite ship righted itself, Mike saw similar ships--sleek metal fighters, rising from a port near the city.
The commander of the Baserite ship seemed to be making a decision as his craft hung in space. To attack or flee? Could he reach and demolish the crippled barge before the Ptomenite fighters reached the scene?
Both Mike and Nicko hung upon this indecision. Nicko said, "I hope that stupid codger doesn't commit suicide. If he does, we go down too."
"Maybe it's just as well," Mike said grimly.
"I've always subscribed to staying alive as long as possible," Nicko retorted.
The commander made his decision. The ship streaked in, dancing like a zephyr to avoid the crystalline ray. But there was no longer any great danger from this because the tilt of the deck made accurate aiming impossible for the Ptomenites.
Straight in for the kill now, came the Baserite ship; straight in toward the crippled deck awash with the blood of smashed and maimed soldiers; alive with the screams of the agonized and the dying.
Doree covered her face with her hands and came into Mike's arms. So she did not see that the Ptomenites had one maneuver left; a perilous one, but nonetheless a maneuver.
The craft was now over the level ground on the near outskirts o
f the city. It hung motionless, allowing the Baserite craft to take deadly aim.
But as the sleek ship rocketed in, the commander of the Ptomenite craft waited until the last moment and then released whatever force held the ship in the air. The split deck dropped like a stone, but too late for the other ship to change course.
* * * * *
The Baserites had gambled and lost. As the ship arced again skyward, a dozen similar fighters closed in from two directions. They emitted the deadly crystalline fire. For a few moments, the Baserite ship seemed unharmed. Then it's hull began to glow; a faint pink, a cherry red, a bright crimson. Then a brilliant explosion lighted a sky made hazy by the descending sun. And there was nothing.
Even as the Ptomenite ship plummetted downward, Mike marveled at the effectiveness of the crystalline ray. Nothing remotely resembling it existed in the universe he knew. Then his attention was concentrated solely upon perils of the moment The Ptomenite commander was not able to stop the rapid descent. He could only lessen it slightly and Mike held Doree tight in his arms when the crash came.
He noted, fleetingly, that neither McKee nor Talbott had been injured by the thrust of the Baserite ship. The door to the after cabin was open and he saw them crouching inside, terror written across their faces. Standing above them, proud and erect in the face of death, stood the Princess Katal'halee and Mike felt a touch of admiration. Then the craft hit the ground....
Mike realized he was not unconscious. He realized also that the ship had braked slightly against the rocketing drop at just the last moment.
It had blunted the force of the impact but little, however, and chaos reigned upon the shattered deck. Mike found that both Nicko and Doree were unconscious but that the H'Lorkan tribesman was shaking his head groggily.
* * * * *
Mike looked swiftly about. The dust cleared slightly nearby and he saw that the prow of the deck had buckled as it hit, leaving a dark opening beneath. There was room for a man in there. Mike glanced around. In the confusion, no one was paying any attention to the prisoners. Help was coming from the city but the rescuers were still quite a distance away.
