by Hal Annas
Relay blocked off outgoing orders, commandeered a visicom channel and sent this message under Blue Scrolo priority: “Enemy elements moving on our left flank, will make landing on planet impossible. Holding channel for orders.”
He decided that the time for polite exchanges had passed. Cutting all formality, he sent a message to the third armada ordering it to attack.
“Engage the enemy ships between us,” it read. To Relay, he added, “Repeat the message and get acknowledgement.” Then: “General order to all ships: Press the attack. Load every lifeship, every courier with fighting men. Launch them with photonic charges. Clear a hundred-mile area below us and spread outward.”
The losses would be terrific, he knew. The lifeships and couriers, not intended for combat, could be smashed with light charges. Near the surface of the planet these would be up in an almost solid wall.
But there was no alternative. He couldn’t land his raiders with warships on his flank. He would have to maneuver and fight back. At the same time he had to seize that planet—now.
“Laterals, starboard,” he ordered as the smaller ships began leaping toward the planet. “The enemy won’t expect us to come at him.”
Relay reported the third armada moving in behind the enemy elements. It failed to say whether it had made contact.
Again a hand fell on his shoulder. As he turned from his instruments he saw the doctor he had left with the girl. His green-tinged features were ashen underneath. It was apparent that he knew he might be dismembered for interrupting the commander in the midst of battle.
“The girl wants you,” he said. His voice was high-pitched for a Novakkan. “It’s a matter of life and death.”
He had no intention of leaving his post at this stage. But he didn’t want the girl to die. “Bring her to me,” he said.
“She can’t be moved. She is imbedded in the couch.”
He wondered if the strange incidents had driven the doctor mad. At the same time he knew the girl had been painfully hurt, that her condition might be serious. It was a matter for conscious thought when all of his attention was demanded by the pressure of events.
His losses, he knew, were heavy. The defense was in strength. Coming in as he had without maneuvering, he ran directly into a storm. Enemy ships were ready to strike his left flank. The whole armada might disintegrate within hours.
His lateral motion made his position less dangerous in relation to the planet, but would bring him into contact with warships in minutes. There the outcome would be decided. If the third armada struck with him, at the same time, the possibility of success was high.
But if he left his position, and there was hesitation for lack of orders, confusion might result and end in disaster.
There were already enough strange things out of his control. He couldn’t now release control of the armada to men who weren’t yet aware of his plan.
“Bring her to me,” he ordered. “Couch and all.”
A report from Relay told him Strak was in communication with Rahn Buskner and that he was well into space, but that the bulk of the Earth fleet stood between him and the center of the triangle. It meant, he realized, that he could neither go to the aid of Rahn Buskner nor expect aid from him.
The expendable ships, Strak informed him, had ceased to answer calls, which meant the fleet had swept them out of the cosmos.
Relay again blocked outward channels to inform him the third armada had made contact. A few moments later it told him also that his left flank had been struck in force.
The girl was brought in on the couch. Men sweating over visicoms, computers, incoming reports, glanced at her, went on working.
She seemed in full awareness and terribly frightened. The noise, the confusion, the roaring of commands over the intercom, the incessant flashes outside the ports, the shuddering and rocking of the ship in the lashing waves of photonic energy, all coming on top of the pain in her small body, he knew, had brought her almost to a state of hysteria.
“Moxol,” she gasped, “you shouldn’t have brought me here. In my compartment I was in communication with intelligent life in another era. Now I’ve lost it. I wanted to warn you—” She hesitated. “Warn you—”
“Warn me of what?” he demanded.
“Of the death of—your armada.”
CHAPTER SIX
SHE was not by any means imbedded in the couch. Nor was she helpless to move. Whatever condition had existed in her compartment to inspire awe in the doctor had vanished. She was just a frightened girl of more than ordinary beauty.
And he could understand that in her terror she might imagine things.
But this was no time to listen. On the screen before him the dots which were his own units were merging with an area outlined by a faint blue glow. In that area were the enemy elements. He had already made contact. On his flank his own ships were fighting desperately, as attested by the dent in the bluish glow and the vanishing of dots.
On the other side of the glow other dots appeared, and as they did the glow recoiled.
The girl said, “Something is happening all around us that we don’t see. At times I know what it is, then I lose it. I feel things inside my body.”
Moxol’s body grew rigid. Unusual things had been happening, were even now going on. They were a threat, a source o-f deadly danger. His interest rose. If she had the solution he meant to get it out of her.
“Take her to the Sedwonians,” he ordered. To Evela: “Tell them everything you know and feel.”
He turned back to the screen. Dots now appeared inside the bluish area. The dents in each side were increasing, sinking deeper. It meant that he and the third armada were burning the enemy in two from both sides.
It dawned then that he’d had unusual success in some way connected with the girl. He couldn’t but associate the two, since, because of her, he’d struck outward from SYZ.
As the bluish area grew thinner, and the dots on either side moved toward each other, he knew he could scatter all enemy elements in this sector and at the same time support his landing forces.
He ordered the right wing to resume the attack on the planet.
Relay informed him that communication with the defenders on the inner planets had been interrupted, which meant that they were hard pressed. It meant that enemy elements in action there would soon be released to move in this direction. It meant that a few hours from now the next outer planet, protected by warships, would be able to put up a mighty defense.
By moving first he could hold the initiative.
He ordered all ships in the right wing not engaged in supporting the landings to move on the next planet as a spearhead.
As soon as it was certain that the left wing would break through to join with the third armada, the center was to break off and support the right wing.
He brought his own ship in close to the planet, made certain that the landings were proceeding rapidly, then moved on to direct the operations of the right wing.
Every report brought good news. The left was smashing through. The third armada had gained momentum and was widening the breech it had made in the enemy forces. Men landing on the planet were fighting like demons, spreading outward at a terrific pace and killing and destroying in a manner that was unusual even to a Novakkan. They were enslaving the populace and driving prisoners before them as a protecting wall of flesh.
It was apparent that total subjection of the planet would be achieved in half the time he had estimated.
As more units broke off and came to support him, he ordered the strike on the second planet. No array of warships posed a threat and he was able to focus all his attention on the surface defenses. He ordered deceptive maneuvers and with them ripped the ground batteries apart.
The only bad news was the continuing reports of strange happenings. In the midst of battle they were given little thought. If a man died in a passage, or as he studied data or serviced a battery, he was just another casualty. Nobody paused to examine the body for a bu
rn or wound.
If a door swung open and knocked another down, and smashed delicate instruments in his hands, no one bothered to credit it to anything but the imponderables of battle. If casualties were highest where resistance was minor, there was no time to study the matter.
But he was acutely aware of these things. He was winning a terrific victory, overunning the system in less than half the time he expected. At the same time his armada was disintegrating. And it was happening in a way to break the hearts and spirits of fighting men. Whatever was destroying the armada was invisible. There was no defense against it nor any way to fight back.
Relay blocked outgoing channels and informed him of an urgent call from the enemy. It originated on the third planet in the system. The key words were: “Will Moxol speak with his sister Aline du David?” Relay wanted to know if it were to be considered a trick to mislead them or adjuged an honest communication and put through.
At the mention of his sister’s name, he felt his blood boil. The Earthmen had carried off his mother. Rahn Buskner had retaken her. Now it appeared that his sister was in their hands. Novakkan vengeance would not stop short of the most remote planet on which Earthmen held sway. Nor would it spare those who had failed to protect her and get her out of the Eg System when the Earthmen made their counterthrust. It was a personal matter. The fighting might go on for centuries, handed on from generation to generation.
Ordering Relay to put the call through, he suddenly felt exhausted. It had been so long since he’d more than dozed he couldn’t recall just when he’d actually slept and rested.
The demands of the fighting held his attention. He turned again to his instruments, made hasty calculations, passed on an order, and then heard his name called.
The voice was familiar, vibrant, tense. He looked up and saw his sister in the screen. She was in the luxurious wardroom of an enemy warship. Ringed about her were Earthmen, Denovians and another whose metallic-like features set him apart.
He had no time to parley. He reassured Aline, then tried to make it clear to the Earthmen that they must give her safe conduct to a neutral planet. Something rose inside him, brought a sense of rage. His muscles and nerves drew tight.
His eyes photographed every face before him and marked the Earthmen for a most painful death. He could retake that planet as rapidly as he’d taken the outer ones. They would not escape.
Then he was listening to her tell him that they sought a truce.
He had momentarily forgotten the strange deaths. The thought came back. If the source couldn’t be found his armada was doomed. This was no time to back away from talk of peace. Especially when Rahn Buskner alone was facing the bulk of the Earth fleet somewhere in the triangle.
He made them understand that he was willing to reach terms. At the same time he learned Aline was not in danger.
As he broke off he ordered Relay to furnish Strak the monitorings of the exchange to transmit to Rahn Buskner. He was not certain the leader of the green-tinged giants would agree to terms laid down by the Earthmen, but he would consider them.
In the meantime he was to meet the Earthmen in a neutral ship, his mother’s cruiser which was now in Aline’s charge. He would designate the time and place.
Nothing had been said about the planet beneath him and he meant to secure it. His forces would be in a position to strike a deadly blow if the talks didn’t succeed.
He would go alone to the Earthmen, prepared for any eventuality. He was not afraid of trickery. He could take care of himself.
The Sedwonians sent word that they had examined Evela under the supervision of doctors and that startling data had been elicited which might cast light on human frailties and foibles of past ages as well as the present. They were consulting with both the Artonians and the mystics and would prepare a comprehensive report.
His sense of directness was offended by their ambiguous language, and besides, he had no time to wait for a wordy report, which would have to be reduced to simple terms before he could understand it, and so ordered them to report immediately, with the girl in attendance prepared to demonstrate their contentions or retract hem.
As he went along the passage to the conference room, he was astonished to find himself unsteady on his feet. He had been so long without sleep that the involuntary part of his mind was groggy. In his fore consciousnessness plans of battle, strategy, thoughts on how to anticipate the enemy’s next move still ran on. He was not prepared to find the girl sitting up and dressed in a Mallikan costume which hid the bruises on her upper legs and body but in no way detracted from her charms. Her midriff was bare; her breasts were restrained by a halter the upper part of which was hidden under the midnight black hair which fell over her dusky shoulders. In her sultry features was a look of inner satisfaction as if she had unburdened herself of cares or made an important discovery.
Despite her recent experience, he had never seen her more beautiful. His breathing became deep; his pulsebeat rose.
The Sedwonians stood about her possessively.
“Her story is remarkable,” one said. “It casts light on physical phenomena which has not been clearly understood.”
Impatiently, he ordered, “The fact. Not words.”
They glanced at one another, then back at him. “She told us a man was going to die with a piece of metal in his heart. A few minutes later the man was dead. Dissection revealed the metal.” They turned to her. “Show him.”
She shook her head. “No, one in this room is in danger. But if you’ll turn to the port you’ll see something there.”
Moxol swung round with the others. Beyond the port was something that glowed a bright yellow. The shape was not definite, but as they watched they saw the inner part of it take on more substance and appeared to be a giant hand.
Springing to the intercom, he snapped, “Outside the hull, forward section, starboard. Get ten men out there to investigate glowing object.”
“They won’t find anything tangible,” the girl said softly. “It’s highly attenuated. If it shrinks in size they mustn’t stand about it. It’s metal and may become lodged inside their bodies.”
“Metal should be subject to the gravity of the planet beneath us,” an Artonian volunteered. “Apparently it’s on another plane of existence.”
Again the girl shook her head. “It’s right here and now. I don’t understand it, but in twilight sleep it comes clearer. It’s intelligent. Others of the same substance made me understand something about positive and negative time. I’m not a scientist. I don’t know how to explain it logically. But I do know it’s here now. And as time goes on it’s going to become more tangible. It’s two time streams flowing into one another from opposite directions and bringing their own life with them.”
A doctor put in, “The logical assumption is that many a man’s pains result from such as that passing through his body without completely solidifying.”
“Is that what’s been killing my men?” Moxol demanded.
“We think so,” the Artonian said. “The girl glimpsed something like that solidifying as we questioned her. A Dexbonian moved close to it and, as she explained, it entered his body in that insubstantial state. She knew then that he was going to die and that metal would be found where it had entered.”
The meaning wasn’t clear. Nor, Moxol felt, was it his task to clarify it. He was a fighting man. The scientists would have to provide the answer to anything so out of the ordinary.
“Order all Earth scientists on the planets we’ve subjected to aid you,” he said. “Find out what that thing is, what its intention, and how we can protect ourselves from it.” As an afterthought, he added, “And how we can destroy it if necessary. By my orders.”
He returned to Operational and issued the final orders and directives to be observed while he parleyed with the Earthmen in neutral space.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ABOARD the cruiser he was surprised to find his sister looking radiantly happy. She showed no fear of the Earthmen
and was not treated as a captive. Out of choice she remained close to the leader and whenever he glanced at her beamed an almost imperceptible smile.
The sincerity of the Earthmen was apparent from the outset. The leader was direct, outspoken and eager to grasp the Novakkan viewpoint. He was positive in stating his own attitude. He made it clear that further fighting could bring ruin to both sides.
There was nothing soft about him. His words, his tone, his whole attitude expressed confidence in himself, in his fleet, in his belief in an ultimate Earth victory, if they failed to reach terms.
The terms were simple. The Earthmen wanted an enduring peace in which to extend colonizing toward Andromeda. In achieving this they would welcome the cooperation of the Novakkans and return to them the Lexn System from which they’d been driven years in the past.
The prospect was glowing. There was reason to believe Rahn Buskner would welcome the opportunity to lead expeditions in search of energy fields on the edge of the galaxy which might span the void to Andromeda.
As they talked they were monitored each by his own Relay who made recording to be transmitted to Rahn Buskner and to chosen groups on Earth and Delos.
The last doubt vanished when he learned that the commander responsible for carrying off Aleta from Unor had died in the first battle for the spacelane. Novakkan honor had been satisfied. Nothing more could be asked.
Returning to his ship, he felt a sense of pride in the thought that he would be free to visit Earth and view the wonders there. From the age of twelve he had set foot on planets only by right of the terror he and the green-tinged giants inspired. It would be a novelty to walk free and unarmed among Earthmen.
And it would prove the Dexbo witch wrong. Instead of being hunted, has life sought on every hand as Moxol the Murderer, he would be welcomed as Moxol the Man, half Earthman, half Novakkan.
Looking out the port of the courier ship, he saw the bright yellow star that gave daylight to this system. Beyond the opposite port was the red dwarf that shone by night. They were so close they prevented the planets from ever knowing total darkness in their northern latitudes.
