The second Guard's face lost its sharply disciplined mask for an
instant, then he, too, died in the shadow of his glistening plane.
Cadmus was retrieving their weapons as two more Guards ran out of the
Maenad toward him, evidently called by one of the two slain Guards
before they died.
Cadmus shot the policejet straight up beneath a blast of fire. Through
the pre-dawn chill, he angled it toward the council tower. He had only
minutes now to get inside the Tower and get that microtape before the
Machine's analyzing eyes.
Below him sprawled the spires and sharp minarets of the ancient capital
city. To the east beyond the fifth cut-off from the Low Canal, was the
newer modernistic plastic council tower, rearing up into the sky for a
mile, directly in the valley's mouth.
Beyond the council tower was the gigantic rounded dome of the Great
Machine, gleaming dully in the mists. To the right was Consar III's
pleasure palace, glittering like a monstrous and evil jewel.
Zaleel would be there soon, groveling among his slaves.
Now, from various roofports all over the city, silver policejets began
to dot the sky. Cadmus unhooked an antigrav belt from beneath the seat.
He pressed a stud and the cowling above him slid open. He belted the
antigrav belt about his waist and stood up.
The council tower was a mile distant. A parabola would allow him to
reach it, if he could avoid being spotted by the Guards while falling.
About twenty policejets, in formation as usual, were coming in from his
right. He raised both neutron guns, fired, simultaneously. He used both
weapons' full charge.
An incredible blast ripped out, leaving paths of condensation in
its wake. Radiant energy spread forth in its basest and most deadly
form, heating intolerably by sudden kinetic interchange. There was a
devastating fire, a supernal electronic flash. Radiant energy blinded
and burned.
The pre-dawn grayness became searing light. For an instant the area was
bombarded with fragments of molten metal. But Cadmus had sent his plane
in a sudden leap high above the disaster even as he fired. His plane
trembled, then began to burn. Its metal hull became unbearable.
Cadmus leaped out into the darkness and began floating down, utilizing
the antigrav belt's angle facets to control the direction of his fall.
He looked about him. A mile behind, a hundred or so policejets were
converging on that spot where he had created the sudden holocaust. By
lifting his own plane and bailing out, he had put himself half a mile
away, a small dark speck, falling in a slow curve directly at the top
of the council tower.
The policejets were swinging away in large, ever-increasing circles,
searching. Far away, he saw his own jetplane burst suddenly into white
flame and crash into the sluggish red waters of the canal. Most of the
policejets headed for it. Apparently there was no suspicion that he
had been able to escape the ship.
Cadmus struck the top of the Tower. The mile-high dome was cold and
smooth as ice as he slid down its side onto a narrow ramp. He lay flat
for a moment in order to get back his strength. The city was moving
from its somnolence. Beings shuffling from drugged states to worship
the Gray God of stability. It was eternal slavery or death to neglect
the worship.
Far below he could see a balcony opening into what would be the
question submission chamber. Utilizing the antigrav belt, Cadmus slid
from the ramp, down the shadowed side of the Tower. He attained the
balcony and crouched behind the colonnade. The sun peered over the
mountains. It reached into the valley, lapping the Machine's towering
skull with crimson tongues.
Streaming from the city's main avenues, a solid river of Akal-jor's
inhabitants were marching to worship at the shrine of the Gray God.
Cadmus stared at the fantastic and horrible scene. Worshipping a
machine that had chained them to its unchanging pattern and was killing
them. A thunderous chorus of wailing and chanting rose in a moan of
suppliancy.
From every city on Mars, via transmat, other rivers of worshippers
were debouching into the valley. For a brief time they would gaze with
trembling awe at the monstrous metal dome that ruled them inexorably,
then return to their hopeless patterns.
Via huge transmats on Terra and Venus, other rivers of worshippers
numbering millions were flowing across the void. They, too, would gaze
upon the Gray God's face, then return by transmat sender to their own
worlds. Cadmus stared in sudden shocked fear. One abruptly obvious and
terrible fact left him stunned.
The great transmats on the right side of the valley were not disgorging
any worshippers. Nothing was emerging from the Venusian transmats.
* * * * *