The Electric Blade Swings
Stripped to the waist, Philip Dunbar worked in the electric glare of
the oven-hot laboratory. The throbbing of motors made a dull undertone
in his ears as he examined the register connecting with the steel
cylinders of compressed air. His dark face had become long and haggard;
his eyes glittered with a wild, almost demoniacal light. But a grunt of
satisfaction came from between those two thin cynic lips of his as he
muttered,
"Thank the Lord! At last it's done!"
"Thank not the Lord, earthling! Thank us!" a whirring voice sounded
from just outside the window. "For many days we have followed your
labors. For many days we have assisted. Nevertheless, you are a day
behind schedule. A whole day, earthling!"
"I have done my best!" sighed Dunbar. "Could I help it if I was sick
with the heat for two days, and could hardly work?"
"We will forgive you this once, nignig, although on our planet we are
not such weaklings as to get sick. After all, you have served us not
badly. Tomorrow, with the compressed air to improve our efficiency, we
will be lords of this world!"
"Tomorrow we will be lords of this world!" another voice, from an
invisible source, weirdly repeated.
"Earthling, we have one more command," buzzed the first voice. "These
casks of compressed air are hard for us to reach through your narrow
window. See that they are placed outside on the ground. Have them put
there early tomorrow, that we may gather them up with ease."
"I shall do so!" acceded Dunbar. And hastily he added, "Then you will
not--will not forget your promise?"
"Never fear!" a voice of reassurance droned. "When all the rest of your
race sleeps in the long Forever, you will be glad to be alive--you, the
last man!"
"I will be glad to be alive," acknowledged Dunbar. But his voice had a
tone of sadness; his long, lean, dark countenance drooped.
"One thing more! The female of my race--the girl I call Eleanor--have
you not saved her as a reward for my services? Through the wiles of
wicked connivers, she has escaped. Once more I ask you, can you not
seize her and bring her back?"
"Once more I tell you, earthling, the Peerless Red One has changed his
mind about the female of your species. In truth, we were not sorry when
she got away; and made but little effort to re-capture her, for she
drew your mind from your work. The Peerless Red One has decided, if the
female of the species is crafty enough to get away, might she not be
crafty enough to cause us much trouble? No, earthling! Let her perish
with the rest of her crawling species!"
Dunbar groaned, and sank disconsolately to the laboratory floor.
Had he not learned that nothing was more futile than to argue with a
Saturnian?
* * * * *
The dreary gray of dawn was visible through the stagnant cloud-banks by
the time Gates had started toward Dunbar's apartment.
One thing, in particular, had delayed him. Having secured the Electric
Blade, he decided that he must also obtain the Infra-Red Eye as
a precaution in case of conflict with the Saturnians. One of the
instruments, he recalled to his regret, had been lost during that first
encounter with the invaders from space. But there was another, which
he had left for safekeeping in the home of his old friend Bill Denny.
Here, however, was indeed a predicament! How could he get to Denny and
ask for his property, now that he was invisible? After much thought,
he concluded that only one course was open to him; hence, taking a
flashlight from his locker at the Institute, he hurried to Bill's home,
climbed in through a window, and began to ransack his friend's spare
room, where he knew the Infra-Red Eye was kept.
It was this that gave rise to the panic in the Denny household; to
Martha Denny's screams when she awakened long after midnight and saw a
light proceeding as if on its own volition down the empty hallway. Bill
Denny, who went to investigate, said that he heard the sound of racing
footsteps, and caught a gleam, which he attributed to a burglar's
flashlight; and this theory was borne out the following morning by the
disordered state of the spare room. But what nobody could understand
was that a bill-packed wallet, which stood in plain sight, had been
untouched; while the only thing taken was the peculiar-looking
contraption entrusted to Bill weeks ago by his missing friend, poor
old Ronny Gates.
Meantime, with the Infra-Red Eye shielded from sight beneath his
garments, Gates was approaching Dunbar's apartment house. As he drew
near in the early dawn, he paused in an adjoining court; and a thrill
of satisfaction shot through him to know that, after all, he was not
too late. No! but he was barely in time! For two workmen, heaving and
panting, were throwing a thick steel cylinder on top of a great heap.
Beside them stood Dunbar, looking hot and unhappy as he directed their
movements with nervous haste. "Now you fellows, just one more!" he was
ordering, with a growl. "Go up and get it, and I'll pay you off! Go on,
quick! God! what are you such snails about?"
As the men slouched away, Gates let out an unconscious grunt; at which
Dunbar turned toward him sharply, terror in his piercing black little
eyes. "Good heavens!" he muttered to himself, as he hastily lit a
cigarette. "I'm getting so I see things everywhere!"
* * * * *
A few minutes later, the last of the cylinders had been deposited on
the heap; the workmen had been paid, and had gone shuffling off; and
Dunbar, leaning against the pile, was awaiting the arrival of the
Saturnians. Nor had he long to wait. The laborers had hardly passed out
of sight around the corner, when one of the cylinders began to move as
of its own will, and, with gradually accelerating velocity, shot into
the air and out of sight.
Now if ever, Gates realized, was the time to act! With trembling speed,
he drew the Infra-Red Eye from under his coat, so as to reveal the
Saturnians who, he felt sure, were all about him. For a moment alarm
possessed him; for the Eye, being visible, would betray him to the foe!
But no! evidently some of the Amvol-Amvol had been rubbed upon it in
its contact with his clothes; it too was invisible!
Hastily he adjusted it, by means of tight bands running around his
head; yet not so hastily as to make unnecessary noise. How fortunate,
he thought, that the Saturnians' ears were less acute than some of
their other senses! Yet what he saw, after he had turned the proper
screws and levers, was nothing to reassure him. Not one Saturnian, nor
even two, as he had expected! Nor even five or six! At least twelve
of the great creatures, with their dangling octopus limbs, their long
stinging tails, their red triangular eyes--at least twelve of them,
all seeming of a watery pallor through the Infra-Red Eye! And among
them, leading them as he strutted savagely back and forth among the
compressed air containers, was the over-towering form of Red-Hood!
Pressed into a basement doorway for protection, Gates planned his
action. His mind worked with spring-like rapidity; he knew that he had
not a second to waste. Two advantages were his: the Electric Blade, and
his ability to take his adversaries by surprise. But how slight these
assets seemed by comparison with the number and prowess of his foes!
Yet not for an instant did he flinch. If he must die, then he must
die! Out from beneath his coat came the Electric Blade, its sheath
fortunately invisible; but after he had set the motors into operation,
the whirring sound betrayed him.
"What's that?" came suspiciously from one of the Saturnians, in his
native tongues, as the monster started toward the source of the sound.
Instantly Gates released the blade to its full length. But, as he did
so, he received another shock. The metal, in its folded position, had
evidently missed contact with the Amvol-Amvol! It could be seen just
like any ordinary steel!
"Ah! What devil have we here?" dinned from the Saturnian, in a mighty
roar. And he lunged in Gates' direction.
* * * * *
As he did so, the blade began to swing with such speed that it made
but a gray blur. Too swift for the Saturnians to follow its movements,
the steel slashed at the assailant, whom Gates could clearly see
through the Infra-Red Eye. The first blows made but minor dents in
the creature's tough armor; but after a second or two Gates swung the
weapon upward toward the enemy's left shoulder.
Horrible to hear was the monster's howl as the Middle Nerve Center was
penetrated and fountains of golden-orange overflowed the pavement.
Terrible beyond words was his death-yell as he sagged and sank, and,
with all his limbs threshing violently, clutched blindly for his foe.
But Gates had leapt out of range. Vehemently he was darting hither
and thither among the Saturnians, slashing in all directions with the
furiously swinging blade. He could see the octopus limbs of half a
score of the creatures writhing simultaneously toward him, interfering
with one another in their convulsive movements. However, they aimed
not at him but at the blade, and always they struck at the point where
it had been just a fraction of a second before their blows descended.
Thus, by a hair's breadth, Gates was able to elude them.
[Illustration: Gates fired desperately at the advancing creatures.]
How long would he be able to keep up the unequal struggle? His strength
was waning; his breath was coming hard and fast; its very sound would
have betrayed him had it not been for the other noises of battle.
Already he had wounded several adversaries, though not mortally; their
golden-yellow blood flowed, but they still fought on. Time after time
he felt himself brushed by their sweeping arms; felt their deathly
cold claws against his skin. Once, by less than a finger's breadth, he
escaped a lashing envenomed tail.
Even as he lodged this peril, Gates recognized the huge gray-green
lips of Red-Hood. He saw the malevolent red light in the eyes of his
chief antagonist; and, like a matador fleeing a bull, he ducked and
ran sideways. Then, with ferocious suddenness, he turned and swung the
flashing blade upward.
A fraction of a second too soon or too late, and he would have been
lost. A few inches too high, or a few inches too low, and he might as
well not have fought at all. But Red-Hood, stooping low as he charged
head forward, had exposed the vulnerable left shoulder. And straight
through the susceptible spot burst the cleaving, electrically driven
blade.
* * * * *
Red-Hood's roar of rage and agony, as he sank amid hideous convulsions,
was all but drowned by the dismayed bellowings of his companions. One
and all, as though they had hit a blank wall, halted in shrieking
consternation at the sight of their smitten leader. And Gates,
springing forward, profited from that instant of demoralization, to
strike another of the creatures through the Middle Nerve Center.
As he leapt back, barely in time to avert the drive of the swinging
tail, he made an amazing observation. The creatures were all in flight!
From their terrorized cries, he knew that they thought they were
fighting not one man, but an invisible army!
But the last of the monsters, as he turned to flee, swung back briefly.
Crouched in a cranny against a coal-bin, was a cowering form, its
eyes wide with terror. "You, nignig--you, you are the root of all our
trouble!" rasped the Saturnian. "You have betrayed us! You shall be
punished!"
Out swung the terrible tail; its barbed point, with the speed of
an arrow, plunged into Dunbar's heart. And as the victim, gasping,
collapsed in his own blood, his assailant went swinging away up a great
cobweb.
Meanwhile Gates, sinking in exhaustion to the pavement, stared at the
stones smeared with great streaks of golden-yellow; stared at the still
untouched containers of compressed air, and solemnly mumbled a prayer
of thanksgiving.