_The Death of Amos Peabody_
Just how any inkling of what was happening penetrated the pain-swept
consciousness of the blind and deaf President could never be
determined. Possibly a thin repercussion of Grim's cry, possibly an
intuition that comes to sense-bereft men. But he had jerked
spasmodically erect. There was a sharp tinkling as the weakened leg
links broke. He threw himself in a queer, awkward movement forward,
directly in the path of the tubed weapon. A blinding beam flashed out
of the orifice, sheared through Peabody's middle as though he were cut
cleanly in half with a gigantic knife. He toppled in two sections to
the floor of the conveyor--released from all humiliation, all
suffering.
At the same time two other things happened. Grim Morgan hit the guard
like a crashing thunderbolt and Hilary's gun barked once. The monster
tottered under the impact. A puzzled expression flitted over his
pinkish eyes, a filmy sheath spread over them like a veil, and he fell
heavily, a neat bullet hole square between his eyes.
Hilary shoved the gun back in his blouse, and stared alternately at
the huddled form of the grotesque being and all that remained of Amos
Peabody. The old President had saved his life at the cost of his own.
Instinctively his hand went up in formal salute to the gallant old
man.
Grim Morgan shook him by the shoulder.
"Man," he said quietly, "we have killed a Mercutian guard. Within the
hour we shall be dead men too."
Hilary looked up at him sharply.
"A Mercutian," he echoed. "You mean--"
"That for three years now the Earth has been a conquered province of
these devils from Mercury," Grim interposed swiftly. "We have
committed the unforgivable offense and must pay for it."
* * * * *
Hilary glanced swiftly around. The express conveyor was clear of
passengers for over a hundred yards each way. All the people within
range had cleared off when Hilary had attempted to release Peabody.
The small figure of a man got up from his chair beyond the charmed
circle, and was threading his way forward. The local conveyors seemed
to be moving backward at graded speeds. Beyond was the open country,
gradually thickening into scattered rows of crystal buildings. They
were in the suburbs of Great New York. Within ten minutes the conveyor
terminal would be reached.
Hilary's eyes flicked speculatively to the tiny cigar-shaped boat in
which the dead guard had flown down to them. Its smooth gray-gleaming
surface was devoid of wings or other lifting devices. Only a
fan-shaped fin projected from the stern like the tail of a fish. The
cockpit, if such it could be called, was tiny, just ample enough to
accommodate the Mercutian's girth. The sunlight dazzled back from a
bewildering jumble of tiny lenses inset in the instrument board.
Arranged along the hull, on either side, were larger disks of the same
quartz-like material.
"Let's get away in the flier," he said.
"Can't," Grim said. "Those lenses you see on the instrument board are
the controls. No one knows how to operate them except the Mercutians.
Our people managed to capture a few, but couldn't do a thing with
them."
Hilary stared at the motionless flier with interest. "What are those
round glass disks stretched along the hull in a double row?" he asked.
"They look like burning glasses."
"That's just what they are," said Grim sadly. "The top row are
sun-lenses, that throw a terrible ray for a distance of two to three
hundred feet. Melts everything in its path--men trees, rocks even. You
saw one in action in the sun-tube with which poor old Peabody was cut
in half. The lower row of lenses on the flier are search beams."
"Search beams?" Hilary echoed inquiringly.
"Yes. They act like X-rays, more powerful though, and with the further
property of rendering everything they touch transparently crystal for
depths of ten to fifteen feet. Lead is the only element they can not
penetrate. Another secret our scientists can not fathom, so they talk
learnedly about the stream of rays polarizing the structure of matter
along a uniaxis."
"Can't those lenses be duplicated, and turned as weapons against the
Mercutians?"
"No. They are made of a peculiar vitreous material native to Mercury."
"And no one has found out the principle on which they work?"
"Well, there have been theories. We haven't many scientists left, you
know. But the most popular one is that these lenses have the power of
concentrating the rays of the sun to an almost infinite degree, and
then spreading them out again, each individual beam with the
concentrated energy of the whole. Some new way of rearranging quanta
of energy."
"Hmm!" Hilary's brow was wrinkled. For a long moment he stared and
thought.
* * * * *
At last he snapped back to their present situation: the dead guard at
their feet, the dismembered body of Amos Peabody, the cowed groups of
Earthmen on the speeding conveyors, keeping respectful distances.
"We'd better start moving if we want to get away," he said.
"It's no use." Grim spread his hands resignedly. "We'll have to take
our medicine."
Hilary flared angrily. "You're talking nonsense. What's to prevent us
from hopping to another platform? There is no other Mercutian in
sight."
"No, but there were plenty of Earthmen who saw us."
"They won't tell."
"Oh, won't they?" Grim shook his head quietly. "You don't realize what
has happened. Their spirit has been crushed until they are actually
slavish in soul as well as in body. They fought bravely enough on the
first invasion. Even after the conquest there were plenty of men
looking for an opportunity to fight them again. Amos Peabody headed
the revolt. It was smothered in blood, so effectually that only slaves
are left. Peabody was left as a horrible warning. He was sent from
city to city to be exhibited to the populace, unattended on the way,
so confident were the Mercutians of the terror they had inspired."
"So you think those Earthmen who saw us will report to their masters,"
Hilary said slowly.
Grim nodded.
"I know it--they'll expect to curry favor in return."
Hilary felt a web of circumstance tighten around him. His jaw
tautened. Thank the Lord he had been away--on his own. He had not the
soul of a slave--yet.
"Won't you fight for your life?" he asked the big man curiously.
A spark lit in the mild blue eyes, died down.
"Yes if there were a chance," he said dully. "But there is none. The
whole Earth is honeycombed with their guards. They have fliers, sun
weapons, invisible search beams. We'd never elude them."
Hilary snorted impatiently. "We have good Earth brains, haven't we?
I've traveled all the outer planets and never met any intelligence
equal to that of a man, and I won't admit for a moment that the
Mercutians are any exceptions."
A man stepped casually onto the express, took one startled look at the
dead guard, at them, and fled precipitately back.
* * * * *
"Another one to spread the alarm," Morgan said grimly. "There'll be a
dozen guards dropping down on us in the next five minutes."
"Let's get going then." Hilary was pulling the big man along by main
force when he heard a movement in back of them. He stopped, whirled,
automatic thrusting its blue nose forward.
The little man who had gotten up before on the express was pushing
rapidly toward them.
"Stop." Hilary's voice was harsh with command.
But the little man did not heed. He literally stumbled in his haste,
crying: "You've killed a Mercutian."
"What of it, my bantam?" Hilary inquired softly, the muzzle of his gun
boring into a lean flat stomach. The little man was actually pressing
against the automatic in his excitement.
"What of it?" he shrilled excitedly. "God, all this time I've been
waiting to find someone with guts enough to smash one of them. Sir,
I'm proud to shake your hand."
He reached over the wicked-looking muzzle, gripped Hilary's fist,
still tight on the gun butt, and pumped vigorously. He dropped the
hand, swerved on Grim.
"And you too, sir." His little fingers were engulfed in a mighty paw.
"I saw it all, I tell you," he babbled. "We've got them on the run.
We'll sweep the filthy devils clean off the Earth. We'll annihilate
them."
"Whoa there, my little gamecock." Morgan grinned down at the excited
little man. "One Mercutian doesn't make a Roman holiday. They're
plenty more where he came from. You'd better clear out before they
come, or you'll be included in the party."
The little fellow--he was not much more than five feet no inches
tall--drew himself up to his full height. "What," he ejaculated, "me
desert my friends? Wat Tyler's never had that said of him yet. We
stick together, to hell and back again."
Hilary grinned as he slipped the weapon back into his blouse. He was
beginning to like this little firebrand. In truth, Grim had rather
fairly described him as a gamecock. His stature, the bristly red hair
that flamed above a freckled face, the lightest of blue eyes that
snapped with excitement, the peculiar strut of him.
"You'll do," he said briefly.
* * * * *
At a safe distance a crowd was gathering, a crowd of Earthmen. Grim
surveyed them carefully. They were milling back and forth, but no one
dared come closer. "Slaves," he grunted, "not a spark left in them."
His eyes swept the heavens. Two faint black specks appeared in the
blue distance, from the direction of Great New York.
"They're coming for us," he said quietly.
"Let them," crowed the fiery little bantam, "we'll meet them man to
man."
He wrenched the tube from the stiffened fingers of the dead guard,
swung it exultingly aloft.
"You little fool," Hilary cried sharply, and struck it down again.
"We're not waiting for them. That's suicide. Come. I'm afraid it's too
late for you to turn back now. You've been seen with us."
He dashed across the moving belts, Grim and Wat, a grotesquely
assorted pair, directly behind him.
Passengers, men and women both, scattered at their approach, stark,
servile fear smothering their dulled countenances. Cries arose on all
sides. "The Magnificents are coming."
The black specks became larger, forming themselves into swift one-man
fliers. The three men pelted across the graded conveyors as hard as
they could run. No Earthman tried to stop them; one look at their grim
faces would have been a most potent dissuader. And fortunately there
were no Mercutians within hailing distance other than the rapidly
nearing fliers.
They flung themselves off the last slow-moving platform, panting.
"Which way now?" Hilary asked. His quick eye raked the scene for
possible hideouts. They were on a smoothly clipped lawn, heaving
gently up to a pretty rambling structure, built on an antique design,
pleasingly irregular and nestling to the ground as though it were
indigenous to the soil. The walls were modern, though, of
vita-crystal, which possessed the peculiar property of permitting
_all_ of the beneficial rays of the sun to penetrate, and yet
presented a perfectly opaque appearance to the outside world.
No other hiding place was in sight. The lawn stretched smooth on all
sides except for a scattering of trees--poor enough cover. The
Mercutians were almost directly overhead now, preparing to swoop.
* * * * *
"Our only chance seems to be the house," Hilary answered his own
question quietly.
Grim shook his head. "Their search beams can penetrate the
vita-crystal walls as though they were transparent glass."
Hilary's heart sank. "Can't help it," he said laconically. "Come on."
The three men broke into a run. It was only a hundred yards, but the
Mercutians were coming down fast. They had been seen. A flash as of
molten metal gleamed overhead. A blinding ray leaped for the ground,
struck viciously a little ahead of the running men. The velvet green
grass crisped to ash; the soil underneath scorched.
"Scatter!" Hilary shouted.
Instantly the men spread out. Another blast hissed down at them, so
close to Hilary that the heat seared his left side like a red-hot
iron. The Mercutians were getting the range. Wat Tyler stopped short
with a howl of defiance. He whipped the hand tube he had taken from
the dead guard out of his blouse.
"Hide it, you fool!" Hilary yelled back at him. "We don't want them to
known we are armed."
Wat obeyed reluctantly. He shook his fist high in the air, and started
to run again. It was not an instant too soon, either. A beam slithered
down the smoldering air, and the Earth literally boiled under its
impact, directly on the spot where Wat had stopped to shake his fist.
All about them the terrible rays were slashing now.
But a last desperate burst of speed carried the Earthmen onto a wide
enclosed portico, in the old manner. Hilary pounded on the
vita-crystal door. It was tightly locked.
* * * * *
"Step back a moment," Morgan rumbled.
Hilary obeyed. The big man spat thoughtfully upon his hands, worked
his shoulders tentatively. Then he too retreated to the outermost edge
of the portico. Above, the crystal suddenly shattered. Sharp-edged
fragments showered down upon them. There was little time to waste.
Grim heaved forward in a slanting rush, right shoulder extended. He
crashed into the locked door like a runaway train. There was a
grinding noise, a smash of crystal, and his shoulder was through,
incased in a halo of bright, sharp edges.
The big man staggered back, his shoulder streaming blood from a
hundred cuts. His face was pale and drawn.
"Good fellow," Wat yelled, "even though you are an overgrown ox." He
darted in behind the man-mountain like a twisting snake. His deft
fingers reached in through the shattered crystal, pressed something on
the inside. The door slid into its wall pocket with a sound of
grinding glass.
Wat burst into the opened room first, Grim right behind him. Hilary
brought up the rear, Grim's great bulk blotting out for the moment any
view of the interior.
There was a sudden gasp--a girl's voice.
"Wh--What does this mean?" She was tremulous, yet unafraid.
Hilary stopped suddenly as though brought up against a solid wall. His
heart pounded madly. That voice--but it was utterly impossible!
Wat answered, gallantly. "Sorry to annoy you, miss, but they're after
us. My partner here's wounded."
"Oh, you poor man." There was quick sympathy in the clear tones. "But
who is after you?"
A splintering crash resounded outside.
"The Mercutians, as you no doubt hear," the little man responded with
faint irony.
The girl gasped again. "Oh my God!"
There was silence. Hilary strained his ears, yet took care to keep
hidden behind Grim's huge frame. What would she do now? It seemed to
him as if the whole world depended on her reply.
The girl broke the silence. She had come to a swift decision.
"They must not get you. Go upstairs, quietly, into the chamber on the
left of the hall. It's my bedroom. Their search beams can not
penetrate it; the walls are draped with lead-encrusted curtains. I'll
stay down here and try to throw them off the trail."
Hilary's heart recommenced beating. A gush of joy overwhelmed him.
The girl had proven herself.
Grim spoke, for the first time.
"You know the penalty of course, for hiding us."
She did not answer directly. "I can't help it. I can't surrender
Earthmen to those beasts. Besides"--there was a catch in her
voice--"it does not matter much since--"
Hilary stepped quietly from behind Grim's overshadowing bulk.
The girl's eyes went wide at the sight of him; her slender white hand
flew to her throat. She looked as if she had seen a ghost.
"You--you!" she choked. "Hilary!"
* * * * *
She swayed and would have fallen, had Hilary not jumped to catch her.
His heart was beating thickly with excess of emotion. Joan Robbins in
his arms again--how he prayed for this moment in the icy reaches of
interplanetary space. Yet what was she doing here in Bronxville? Her
home had always been atop the windswept Robbins Building in Great New
York.
Her hand went softly over his features, as though to assure herself
that it was really he.
"Oh, my dear," she whispered brokenly. "I had almost given up all
hope. Everyone was certain you were lost--long ago."
Whirrings sounded outside.
"Sorry to break up your reunion," Grim interrupted in his bass rumble,
"but the Mercutians have landed on the lawn. They'll be in here right
away."
Joan tore herself out of Hilary's arms. Her slim straight figure
tautened; her velvet soft eyebrows puckered over deep-lit pools.
"Upstairs quickly, all of you," she cried. "I'll manage them somehow."
Hilary said quietly, "I won't leave you alone with those brutes. You
go along up, and I'll remain here." The automatic gleamed in his hand.
"No, no," she panted, "you mustn't. You wouldn't have a chance. Leave
it to me." She literally pushed them with her little hands to the
stairway. "Go, if you love me."
"The girl's right," Grim said, "there's a chance. If not," he shrugged
his shoulders, "we can always come down again."
Outside were heavy thuddings on the portico.
"You in there," a heavy alien voice resounded, "open or we blast our
way in." The door had been slid back into position.
There was no room for further argument. Very reluctantly Hilary
followed his companions up the winding stairway.
At the top of the stairs an entrance slide showed darker on the left.
Wat fumbled for a moment until he found the button. The door whirred
open, even as they heard Joan's clear voice below: "Come in,
Magnificents!" There was a trampling of feet.