XXII.

Jason stood to one side and watched the deadly cargo being loaded into

the hold of the ship. The Pyrrans were in good humor as they stowed away

riot guns, grenades and gas bombs. When the back-pack atom bomb was put

aboard one of them broke into a marching song, and the others picked it

up. Maybe they were happy, but the approaching carnage only filled Jason

with an intense gloom. He felt that somehow he was a traitor to life.

Perhaps the life form he had found needed destroying--and perhaps it

didn't. Without making the slightest attempt at conciliation,

destruction would be plain murder.

Kerk came out of the operations building and the starter pumps could be

heard whining inside the ship. They would leave within minutes. Jason

forced himself into a foot-dragging rush and met Kerk halfway to the

ship.

"I'm coming with you, Kerk. You owe me at least that much for finding

them."

Kerk hesitated, not liking the idea. "This is an operational mission,"

he said. "No room for observers, and the extra weight-- And it's too

late to stop us Jason, you know that."

"You Pyrrans are the worst liars in the universe," Jason said. "We both

know that ship can lift ten times the amount it's carrying today.

Now ... do you let me come, or forbid me without reason at all?"

"Get aboard," Kerk said. "But keep out of the way or you'll get

trampled."

This time, with a definite destination ahead, the flight was much

faster. Meta took the ship into the stratosphere, in a high ballistic

arc that ended at the islands. Kerk was in the co-pilot's seat, Jason

sat behind them where he could watch the screens. The landing party,

twenty-five volunteers, were in the hold below with the weapons. All the

screens in the ship were switched to the forward viewer. They watched

the green island appear and swell, then vanish behind the flames of the

braking rockets. Jockeying the ship carefully, Meta brought it down on a

flat shelf near the cave mouth.

Jason was ready this time for the blast of mental hatred--but it still

hurt. The gunners laughed and killed gleefully as every animal on the

island closed in on the ship. They were slaughtered by the thousands,

and still more came.

"Do you have to do this?" Jason asked. "It's murder--carnage, just

butchering those beasts like that."

"Self-defense," Kerk said. "They attack us and they get killed. What

could be simpler? Now shut up, or I'll throw you out there with them."

It was a half an hour before the gunfire slackened. Animals still

attacked them, but the mass assaults seemed to be over. Kerk spoke into

the intercom.

"Landing party away--and watch your step. They know we're here and will

make it as hot as they can. Take the bomb into that cave and see how far

back it runs. We can always blast them from the air, but it'll do no

good if they're dug into solid rock. Keep your screen open, leave the

bomb and pull back at once if I tell you to. Now move."

* * * * *

The men swarmed down the ladders and formed into open battle formation.

They were soon under attack, but the beasts were picked off before they

could get close. It didn't take long for the man at point to reach the

cave. He had his pickup trained in front of him, and the watchers in the

ship followed the advance.

"Big cave," Kerk grunted. "Slants back and down. What I was afraid of.

Bomb dropped on that would just close it up. With no guarantee that

anything sealed in it, couldn't eventually get out. We'll have to see

how far down it goes."

There was enough heat in the cave now to use the infra-red filters. The

rock walls stood out harshly black and white as the advance continued.

"No signs of life since entering the cave," the officer reported.

"Gnawed bones at the entrance and some bat droppings. It looks like a

natural cave--so far."

Step by step the advance continued, slowing as it went. Insensitive as

the Pyrrans were to psi pressure, even they were aware of the blast of

hatred being continuously leveled at them. Jason, back in the ship, had

a headache that slowly grew worse instead of better.

"_Watch out!_" Kerk shouted, staring at the screen with horror.

The cave was filled from wall to wall with pallid, eyeless animals. They

poured from tiny side passages and seemed to literally emerge from the

ground. Their front ranks dissolved in flame, but more kept pressing in.

On the screen the watchers in the ship saw the cave spin dizzily as the

operator fell. Pale bodies washed up and concealed the lens.

"Close ranks--flame-throwers and gas!" Kerk bellowed into the mike.

Less than half of the men were alive after that first attack. The

survivors, protected by the flame-throwers, set off the gas grenades.

Their sealed battle armor protected them while the section of cave

filled with gas. Someone dug through the bodies of their attackers and

found the pickup.

"Leave the bomb there and withdraw," Kerk ordered. "We've had enough

losses already."

A different man stared out of the screen. The officer was dead. "Sorry,

sir," he said, "but it will be just as easy to push ahead as back as

long as the gas grenades hold out. We're too close now to pull back."

"That's an order," Kerk shouted, but the man was gone from the screen

and the advance continued.

Jason's fingers hurt where he had them clamped to the chair arm. He

pulled them loose and massaged them. On the screen the black and white

cave flowed steadily towards them. Minute after minute went by this way.

Each time the animals attacked again, a few more gas grenades were used

up.

"Something ahead--looks different," the panting voice cracked from the

speaker. The narrow cave slowly opened out into a gigantic chamber, so

large the roof and far walls were lost in the distance.

"What are those?" Kerk asked. "Get a searchlight over to the right

there."

The picture on the screen was fuzzy and hard to see now, dimmed by the

layers of rock in-between. Details couldn't be made out clearly, but it

was obvious this was something unusual.

"Never saw ... anything quite like them before," the speaker said. "Look

like big plants of some kind, ten meters tall at least--yet they're

moving. Those branches, tentacles or whatever they are, keep pointing

towards us and I get the darkest feeling in my head ..."

"Blast one, see what happens," Kerk said.

The gun fired and at the same instant an intensified wave of mental

hatred rolled over the men, dropping them to the ground. They rolled in

pain, blacked out and unable to think or fight the underground beasts

that poured over them in renewed attack.

In the ship, far above, Jason felt the shock to his mind and wondered

how the men below could have lived through it. The others in the control

room had been hit by it as well. Kerk pounded on the frame of the screen

and shouted to the unhearing men below.

"Pull back, come back ..."

It was too late. The men only stirred slightly as the victorious Pyrran

animals washed over them, clawing for the joints in their armor. Only

one man moved, standing up and beating the creatures away with his bare

hands. He stumbled a few feet and bent over the writhing mass below him.

With a heave of his shoulders he pulled another man up. The man was dead

but his shoulder pack was still strapped to his back. Bloody fingers

fumbled at the pack, then both men were washed back under the wave of

death.

"That was the bomb!" Kerk shouted to Meta. "If he didn't change the

setting, it's still on ten-second minimum. Get out of here!"

* * * * *

Jason had just time to fall back on the acceleration couch before the

rockets blasted. The pressure leaned on him and kept mounting. Vision

blacked out but he didn't lose consciousness. Air screamed across the

hull, then the sound stopped as they left the atmosphere behind.

Just as Meta cut the power a glare of white light burst from the

screens. They turned black instantly as the hull pickups burned out. She

switched filters into place, then pressed the button that rotated new

pickups into position.

Far below, in the boiling sea, a climbing cloud of mushroom-shaped flame

filled the spot where the island had been seconds before. The three of

them looked at it, silently and unmoving. Kerk recovered first.

"Head for home, Meta, and get operations on the screen. Twenty-five men

dead, but they did their job. They knocked out those beasts--whatever

they were--and ended the war. I can't think of a better way for a man to

die."

Meta set the orbit, then called operations.

"Trouble getting through," she said. "I have a robot landing beam

response, but no one is answering the call."

A man appeared on the empty screen. He was beaded with sweat and had a

harried look in his eyes. "Kerk," he said, "is that you? Get the ship

back here at once. We need her firepower at the perimeter. All blazes

broke loose a minute ago, a general attack from every side, worse than

I've ever seen."

"What do you mean?" Kerk stammered in unbelief. "The war is over--we

blasted them, destroyed their headquarters completely."

"The war is going like it never has gone before," the other snapped

back. "I don't know what you did, but it stirred up the stewpot of hell

here. Now stop talking and get the ship back!"

Kerk turned slowly to face Jason, his face pulled back in a look of raw

animal savagery.

"You--! You did it! I should have killed you the first time I saw you. I

wanted to, now I know I was right. You've been like a plague since you

came here, sowing death in every direction. I knew you were wrong, yet I

let your twisted words convince me. And look what has happened. First

you killed Welf. Then you murdered those men in the cave. Now this

attack on the perimeter--all who die there, you will have killed!"

Kerk advanced on Jason, step by slow step, hatred twisting his features.

Jason backed away until he could retreat no further, his shoulders

against the chart case. Kerk's hand lashed out, not a fighting blow, but

an open slap. Though Jason rolled with it, it still battered him and

stretched him full length on the floor. His arm was against the chart

case, his fingers near the sealed tubes that held the jump matrices.

Jason seized one of the heavy tubes with both hands and pulled it out.

He swung it with all his strength into Kerk's face. It broke the skin

on his cheekbone and forehead and blood ran from the cuts. But it didn't

slow or stop the big man in the slightest. His smile held no mercy as he

reached down and dragged Jason to his feet.

"Fight back," he said, "I will have that much more pleasure as I kill

you." He drew back the granite fist that would tear Jason's head from

his shoulders.

"Go ahead," Jason said, and stopped struggling. "Kill me. You can do it

easily. Only don't call it justice. Welf died to save me. But the men on

the island died because of your stupidity. I wanted peace and you wanted

war. Now you have it. Kill me to soothe your conscience, because the

truth is something you can't face up to."

With a bellow of rage Kerk drove the pile-driver fist down.

Meta grabbed the arm in both her hands and hung on, pulling it aside

before the blow could land. The three of them fell together, half

crushing Jason.

"Don't do it," she screamed. "Jason didn't want those men to go down

there. That was your idea. You can't kill him for that!"

Kerk, exploding with rage, was past hearing. He turned his attention to

Meta, tearing her from him. She was a woman and her supple strength was

meager compared to his great muscles. But she was a Pyrran woman and she

did what no off-worlder could. She slowed him for a moment, stopped the

fury of his attack until he could rip her hands loose and throw her

aside. It didn't take him long to do this, but it was just time enough

for Jason to get to the door.

* * * * *

Jason stumbled through, and jammed shut the lock behind him. A split

second after he had driven the bolt home Kerk's weight plunged into the

door. The metal screamed and bent, giving way. One hinge was torn loose

and the other held only by a shred of metal. It would go down on the

next blow.

Jason wasn't waiting for that. He hadn't stayed to see if the door would

stop the raging Pyrran. No door on the ship could stop him. Fast as

possible, Jason went down the gangway. There was no safety on the ship,

which meant he had to get off it. The lifeboat deck was just ahead.

Ever since first seeing them, he had given a lot of thought to the

lifeboats. Though he hadn't looked ahead to this situation, he knew a

time might come when he would need transportation of his own. The

lifeboats had seemed to be the best bet, except that Meta had told him

they had no fuel. She had been right in one thing--the boat he had been

in had empty tanks, he had checked. There were five other boats, though,

that he hadn't examined. He had wondered about the idea of useless

lifeboats and come to what he hoped was a correct conclusion.

This spaceship was the only one the Pyrrans had. Meta had told him once

that they always had planned to buy another ship, but never did. Some

other necessary war expense managed to come up first. One ship was

really enough for their uses. The only difficulty lay in the fact they

had to keep that ship in operation or the Pyrran city was dead. Without

supplies they would be wiped out in a few months. Therefore the ship's

crew couldn't conceive of abandoning their ship. No matter what kind of

trouble she got into, they couldn't leave her. When the ship died, so

did their world.

With this kind of thinking, there was no need to keep the lifeboats

fueled. Not all of them, at least. Though it stood to reason at least

one of them held fuel for short flights that would have been wasteful

for the parent ship. At this point Jason's chain of logic grew weak. Too

many "ifs." _If_ they used the lifeboats at all, one of them should be

fueled. _If_ they did, it would be fueled now. And _if_ it were

fueled--which one of the six would it be? Jason had no time to go

looking. He had to be right the first time.

His reasoning had supplied him with an answer, the last of a long line

of suppositions. If a boat were fueled, it should be the one nearest to

the control cabin. The one he was diving towards now. His life depended

on this string of guesses.

Behind him the door went down with a crash. Kerk bellowed and leaped.

Jason hurled himself through the lifeboat port with the nearest thing to

a run he could manage under the doubled gravity. With both hands he

grabbed the emergency launching handle and pulled down.

An alarm bell rang and the port slammed shut, literally in Kerk's face.

Only his Pyrran reflexes saved him from being smashed by it.

Solid-fuel launchers exploded and blasted the lifeboat clear of the

parent ship. Their brief acceleration slammed Jason to the deck, then he

floated as the boat went into free fall. The main drive rockets didn't

fire.

[Illustration]

In that moment Jason learned what it was like to know he was dead.

Without fuel the boat would drop into the jungle below, falling like a

rock and blasting apart when it hit. There was no way out.

Then the rockets caught, roared, and he dropped to the deck, bruising

his nose. He sat up, rubbing it and grinning. There was fuel in the

tanks--the delay in starting had only been part of the launching cycle,

giving the lifeboat time to fall clear of the ship. Now to get it under

control. He pulled himself into the pilot's seat.

The altimeter had fed information to the autopilot, leveling the boat

off parallel to the ground. Like all lifeboat controls these were

childishly simple, designed to be used by novices in an emergency. The

autopilot could not be shut off, it rode along with the manual controls,

tempering foolish piloting. Jason hauled the control wheel into a tight

turn and the autopilot gentled it to a soft curve.

Through the port he could see the big ship blaring fire in a much

tighter turn. Jason didn't know who was flying it or what they had in

mind--he took no chances. Jamming the wheel forward into a dive he

cursed as they eased into a gentle drop. The larger ship had no such

restrictions. It changed course with a violent maneuver and dived on

him. The forward turret fired and an explosion at the stern rocked the

little boat. This either knocked out the autopilot or shocked it into

submission. The slow drop turned into a power dive and the jungle

billowed up.

Jason pulled the wheel back and there was just time to get his arms in

front of his face before they hit.

Thundering rockets and cracking trees ended in a great splash. Silence

followed and the smoke drifted away. High above, the spaceship circled

hesitantly. Dropping a bit as if wanting to go down and investigate.

Then rising again as the urgent message for aid came from the city.

Loyalty won and she turned and spewed fire towards home.