_The Combat on the Crater-top_
Not Wilks, but Coniston! His drawling, British voice:
"You, Gregg Haljan! How nice!"
His voice broke off as he jerked his arm from me. My hand with the
bullet-protector came up, but with a sweeping blow he struck my
wrist. The weapon dropped to the rocks.
I fought instinctively, those first moments; my mind was whirling with
the shock of surprise. This was not Wilks, but the brigand Coniston.
His blow wrenched him around. Awkward, fighting in the air-puffed
suits, with only a body-weight of some thirty pounds! Coniston
stumbled over the rocks. I had still scarce recovered my wits, but I
avoided his outflung arms, and, stooping, tried to recover my
revolver. It lay nearby. But Coniston followed my scrambling steps and
fell upon me. My foot struck the weapon; it slid away and fell down a
crag into a six-foot pit.
We locked together, and when I rose erect he had me around the middle.
His voice jangled with broken syllables in my receiver.
"Do for you now, Haljan--"
It was an eery combat. We swayed, shoving, kicking, wrestling. His
hold around my middle shut off the Erentz circulation; the warning
buzz rang in my ears to mingle with the rasp of his curses. I flung
him off, and my tiny Erentz motors recovered. He staggered away, but
in a great leap came at me again.
I was taller, heavier and far stronger than Coniston. But I found him
crafty, and where I was awkward in handling my lightness, he seemed
more skilfully agile.
* * * * *
I became aware that we were on the twenty-foot square grid of the
observatory platform. It had a low metal railing. We surged against
it. I caught a dizzying glimpse of the abyss. Then it receded as we
bounced the other way. And then we fell to the grid. His helmet bashed
against mine, striking as though butting with the side of his head to
puncture my visor-panel. His gloved fingers were trying to rip at the
fabric around my throat.
As we regained our feet, I flung him off, and bounded, like a diver,
head-first into him. He went backward, but skilfully kept his feet,
gripped me again and shoved me.
I was tottering at the head of the staircase--falling. But I clutched
at him.
We fell some twenty or thirty feet to the next lower spider landing.
The impact must have dazed us both. I recall my vague idea that we had
fallen down the cliff--my Erentz motors smashed--my air shut off. Then
the air came again. The roaring in my ears was stilled; my head
cleared, and I found that we were on the landing--fighting.
He presently broke away from me, bounded to the summit, with me after
him. In the close confines of the suit I was bathed in sweat, and
gasping. I had had no thought to increase the oxygen content of my
air. But I sorely needed more oxygen for my laboring, pounding heart
and my panting breath. I fumbled for the oxygen control-lever. I could
not find it; or it would not operate.
I realized I was fighting sluggishly, almost aimlessly. But so was
Coniston!
* * * * *
It seemed dreamlike. A phantasmagoria of blows and staggering steps. A
nightmare with only the horrible vision of this goggled helmet always
before my eyes.
It seemed that we were rolling on the ground, back on the summit. The
unshadowed Earthlight was clear and bright. The abyss was beside me.
Coniston, rolling, was now on top, now under me, trying to shove me
over the brink. It was all like a dream--as though I were asleep,
dreaming that I did not have enough air.
I strove to keep my senses. He was struggling to roll me over the
brink. Ah, that would not do! But I was so tired. One cannot fight
without oxygen!
I suddenly knew that I had shaken him off and gained my feet. He rose
up, swaying. He was as tired, confused, half-asphyxiated as I.
The brink of the abyss was behind us. I lunged, desperately shoving,
avoiding his clutch.
He went over, and fell soundlessly, his body whirling end over end
down into the shadows, far down.
I drew back. My senses faded as I sank panting to the rocks. But with
inactivity, my thumping heart quieted. My respirations slowed. The
Erentz circulation gained on my poisoned air. It purified.
That blessed oxygen! My head cleared again. Strength came to me. I
felt better.
Coniston had fallen to his death. I was victor. I went to the brink,
cautiously, for I was still dizzy. I could see, far down there on the
crater-floor, a little patch of Earthlight in which a mashed human
figure was lying.
* * * * *
I staggered back again. A moment or two must have passed while I stood
there on the summit, with my senses clearing and my strength renewed
as the blood-stream cleared in my veins.
I was victor. Coniston was dead. I saw now, down on the lower
staircase below the camp-ledge, another goggled figure lying huddled.
That was Wilks, no doubt. Coniston had doubtless caught him there,
surprised him, killed him.
My attention, as I stood gazing, went down to the camp-buildings.
Another figure was outside! It bounded along the ledge, reached the
foot of the ascending staircase at the top of which I was standing.
With agile leaps, it came mounting at me!
Another brigand! Miko? No, it was not large enough to be Miko, not
nearly large enough. I was still confused. I thought of Hahn. But that
was absurd. Hahn was in the wreck of the _Planetara_. One of the
stewards then....
The figure came up the staircase recklessly, to assail me. I took a
step backward, bracing myself to receive this new antagonist.
And then I saw Miko! Unquestionably he: for there was no mistaking
his giant figure. He was down on the camp-ledge, running toward the
foot of the staircase, coming up to help this other man in advance of
him.
I thought of my revolver. I turned to try and find it. I was aware
that the first of my assailants was at the stairhead. I could not
locate at once where the revolver had fallen. I would be caught,
leaped upon from behind. Should I run?
I swung back to see what the oncoming brigand was doing. He had
reached the summit. His arms went up, legs bent under him. With a
sailing leap he launched for me. I could have bounded way, but with a
last look to locate the revolver, I braced myself for the shock.
The figure hit me. It was small and light in my clutching arms. I
recall I saw that Miko was half-way up the staircase. I gripped my
assailant. The audiphone contact brought a voice.
"Gregg! Is it you?"
It was Anita clutching at me!