"Bear arms?" Gena smiled. "The males attend to our machinery, take care
of the incubators and watch our young until they are able to take care
of themselves. But fight?" She shook her head, as if the idea were
strange and almost laughable.
Hammond grinned. "Things are somewhat changed around on Earth, Gena.
The women do plenty of scrapping here, of course--and there's some who
would insist they have it over the males, most of the time, in domestic
life. But the really big blowoffs, like the ones going on in Europe and
in Asia--they're still strictly for males."
The girl commander shrugged, dubiously. "Men are too phlegmatic to make
good fighters."
She broke off, caught by a warning red signal that suddenly flashed to
life on a complicated instrument board to left of the desk. For the
space of several seconds she concentrated, her pretty brow slightly
furrowed. When she turned to Hammond there was a worried frown in her
eyes.
"My audiodetector indicates the proximity of a strange space ship.
Its commander does not answer my telepathic inquiries. Something is
definitely wrong. I must place my sub-officers on the alert. Also
Ardiné, my division commander, who is conducting the search for your
friend, Peter Storm."
Once more she concentrated on the issuance of telepathic orders.
* * * * *
The floor suddenly lurched violently beneath them. Hammond thrown off
balance, went down to his hands. He twisted erect, supple as a cat, and
reached out a supporting arm for Gena, who had been thrown against the
desk. A strange thrill tingled through him at the softness of her.
The girl was half turned, facing the transparent prow wall. She said:
"Zuggoth, the Sediphron King!" There was fear in her, momentarily.
Then she stiffened, her brow furrowing in telepathic concentration,
evidently issuing orders to the defense posts of the _Vandar III_.
Hammond, glancing over her shoulder, saw that a second craft, exactly
like the one he was in, had alighted on the boat seat beside them.
Holes were already dilating open in the gleaming side. Ugly muzzles,
huge and ominous to Hammond's changed perspective, thrust through these
holes. A moment later the flash and roar of heavy artillery shattered
the quiet.
At the same time hundreds of the eight legged war tanks swarmed out of
holes in the lower part of the space cruiser. Some of these charged
toward the _Vandar III_, and were immediately met in combat by the
divisions Gena had ordered out to assist sub-commander Ardiné in her
search for Peter Storm. Others scuttled off to engage the separated
scouters.
Gena seemed to have forgotten Hammond. She watched the heavy electronic
artillery from the hostile war cruiser, her mind sending telepathic
command after command to the various sections of the ship. The
_Vandar's_ own artillery was firing, but spasmodically, as if trouble
was aboard. Gena's brow furrowed.
* * * * *
Hammond watched the strange battle. The ambulant tanks, he saw, were
not only fighting with similar guns of lighter calibre, but were
engaging each other with their clawed feet, like crustaceans. The
guns did not fire projectiles, but flashes of electronic force which
resembled lightning. The armor of the space ships held under the
primary blasts, but was eroded by them, and repeated bolts, striking in
the same spot, would eventually break through.
The quick flame of combat surged through Hammond as he watched. "Why
don't you maneuver the ship?" he shouted, forgetting the girl-commander
could read his thoughts. "Circle over them, come down on them from some
blind spot. You can't win in this position. They've got more guns!"
The girl faced him, as if suddenly aware he was by her side. Her
features were white, and there was strain in her, in her flashing eyes.
"I can't!" she replied. "There were traitors among the men in my crew.
Sediphrons, disguised as hybrids. They have seized the control room,
and wrecked many of our big guns. We've lost!"
"No!" Hammond cried, roughly. "The control room! Maybe we can still
take over, if there's not too many of them. If they haven't wrecked the
driving mechanism we might still get away. Where is it, Gena?"
The girl looked at him, strangely. "The males of Earth are indeed a
different breed," she commented. Then: "Come! Perhaps we have a chance."
She gathered up her shield and electronic rifle, and headed for what
seemed a blank wall. Hammond followed. A door suddenly dilated open
before Gena, and they passed through, hurried down a short, deserted
ramp that spiraled downward for about a hundred feet.
It ended at an open doorway. Beyond, in the midst of electronic crackle
and strange battle shouts, a dozen hybrids were holding the control
room against a company of Amazons trying to force their way in from
another doorway across the room. Two of Gena's operators were on the
floor, evidently dead. Three others struggled in the grip of the
scraggy bearded, huge-armed "fifth column" hybrids.
Other hybrids were smashing the delicate controls. These saw Gena and
Hammond first. They swung around, reaching for electronic rifles.
Gena succeeded in killing two of them. Hammond, closing in quickly
behind her, noticed that the rifles were fired, not from the shoulder,
but held with the stock beneath the arm, and manouvered with one hand
while the shield was held with the others.
Before she could fire again Gena became the target for two of the
traitors. She caught the flash from one rifle on her shield, but could
not raise it in time to ward off the other. The electronic bolt caught
her squarely on her helmet.
With a muffled growl Hammond charged. The scraggy bearded traitor
fired hurriedly, evidently disconcerted by sight of a bronzed, muscled
male diving for him. The blast seared lightly across Hammond's back
muscles. Then his hurtling body smashed into his opponent, hurling him
down.
He swore monotonously, viciously, clubbed with savage fists at the
bearded, screaming face. His victim screamed for aid.
At the next instant a wave of the fighting Amazons, evidently spurred
to frenzy by sight of their fallen leader, surged forward, blasting
into the room.
Hammond clung to the struggling saboteur he had floored. The Sediphron
had lost rifle and shield, and was gouging at Hammond's eyes with the
fingers of his dwarfed right hand. The other, huge and leg-like, was
locked behind the chemist's neck in a bone crushing grip.
Hammond's shoulder muscles writhed. He thrust his right hand up to a
scraggy bearded chin. To his surprise, not only the chin but the whole
face came away, revealing another beneath it. A hideous, crablike face
with popping eyes that stood out on stalks. It was covered with a green
chitinous armor.
Startled, the Sediphron "fifth columnist" relaxed its grip on his neck.
Hammond wrenched free. His hand clamped down on the huge arm.
The Sediphron surged back, leaving the artificial limb in the chemist's
hand. A huge, toothed claw was revealed. The Sediphron surged in,
reaching for Hammond.
The Earthman twisted, a faint sneer writhing his lips. The Sediphron
was unbelievably clumsy. Hammond caught the descending claw and gave
a sharp, quick twist. The entire limb came off in his hands, broken
cleanly at the shoulder joint. Swinging the heavy limb in a swift
moulinet the Earthman brought it down with crushing force beneath the
popping eyes of his adversary. It crashed through the chitinous skull
as if it were an eggshell.
Hammond whirled back to the fallen girl-commander, bent by her limp
body. Her fallen rifle caught his eye, and he reached for it, sensing
the swift swirl of battle swing toward him.
His fingers fell short. A numbing pain lashed through his head,
bringing quick blackness.
* * * * *
Consciousness returned slowly to Hammond. He felt himself being
carried. But it was the sharp barked order that lingered in his mind,
that seemed to rift the blackness that shrouded his aching brain.
His eyes opened. He found himself looking up into the hideous, crablike
face of a Sediphron who carried him by the shoulders.
The sharp, imperious voice came again, halting Hammond's carriers. The
young chemist was put on his feet, flanked immediately by a half dozen
Sediphrons with menacing electronic rifles.
Hammond stiffened. He was back in Gena's big observation and chart
room. A horde of armed Sediphrons filled the room, drawn up in stiff
military array.
Behind the metal desk sat a huge man-like crustacean, deep green in
color. An enormous, toothed claw rested before him on the scattered
flight charts.
The crablike mouth moved constantly. Words drummed against Hammond's
ear, in a language he strangely understood. "Bring in the other Earth
specimen, Vard. And the Metiphron sub-commander, Ardiné."
Hammond turned. Only then did he see Gena, flanked by a Sediphron
guard, facing the hideous crustacean behind the desk. Their eyes met,
and a warm surge of thankfulness enveloped Hammond.
"Thank God, Gena!" he thought, forcefully, "you're unharmed."
The girl-commander smiled wanly. "This is the end, Earthman. Zuggoth
has won."
The crablike thing behind the desk teetered a little in the chair. His
thoughts interrupted harshly. "Not the end, Gena, for you. You and your
sub-commander will round out my harem back on Syrrvi. This daring,
primitive Earthian male and his companion will be minutely examined."
Back of Hammond a door dilated open. Grim-faced, with a gash over
his left eye, stocky Peter Storm was pushed into the room by a squad
of Sediphrons. A flashing-eyed brunette, reaching barely to Storm's
shoulder, walked by his side, head erect.
Storm's grim face relaxed as he saw Hammond. His mouth cracked into a
wry grin. "So they got you, too, Frank!" he said in English.