Senator's voice. "Anyone who puts down his arms will be given safe
conduct to the free side of Reilly Street. Don't throw away your life
for a dictator. Come over to the side of Americanism and common sense."
There was a pause, and the voice added: "No reprisals."
The firing stopped.
The Thebold loudspeaker began to play _On the Sunny Side of the Street_.
But nobody crossed over. Nor was there any further firing from Hector's
side.
_Lay Down Your Arms_, the loudspeaker blared in another tune from
tin-pan alley.
When it became clear that Hector's forces had withdrawn completely from
the Reilly Street salient, Thebold's men crossed in strength.
They worked their way block by block to the grounds of the bubble gum
factory and proceeded to lay siege to it.
* * * * *
With Hector Civek immobilized, Senator Bobby Thebold went looking for
Geneva Jervis, accompanied by two armed guards.
He was trailed by the usual pack of small boys, several of them dressed
in imitation of their hero, in helmets, silk-like scarves and toy guns
at hips.
Alis, unable to reach the besieged palace to see if her father was safe,
had asked Don to go back with her to Cavalier after the Battle of Reilly
Street. Her mother told Alis that the professor was not only safe on the
campus but had resigned his post as Royal Astronaut at Hector's court.
"Father broke with Hector?" Alis asked. "Good for him! But why?"
"He and Dr. Rubach just up and walked out," Mrs. Garet said. "That's all
I know. Your father never explains these things to me. But if my
intuition means anything, the professor is up to one of his tricks
again. He's been locked up in his lab all day."
The campus had an air of expectancy about it. Students and instructors
went from building to building, exchanging knowing looks or whispered
conversations.
A rally was in progress in front of the Administration Building when
Senator Thebold arrived. Don and Alis joined the group of listeners for
camouflage and pretended to pay attention to what the speaker, an
intense young man on the back of a pickup truck, was saying.
"The time has come," he said, "for men and women of, uh, perspicacity to
shun the extremes and tread the middle path. To avoid excesses as
represented on the one hand by the, uh, paternalistic dictatorship of
the Hectorites, and on the other by the, uh, pseudo-democracy of Senator
Thebold which resorts to force when thwarted. I proclaim, therefore, the
course of reason, the way of science and truth as exemplified by the,
uh, the Garet-Rubach, uh--"
Senator Thebold had been listening at the edge of the little crowd. He
spoke up.
"The Garet-Rubach Axis?" he suggested.
The speaker gave him a cold stare. "And who are you?"
"Senator Robert Thebold, representing pseudo-democracy, as you call it.
Speak on, my young friend. Like Voltaire, I will defend to the
death--but you know what Voltaire said."
"Yes, sir," the speaker said, abashed. "No offense intended, Senator."
"Of course you intended offense," Thebold said. "Stick to your guns,
man. Free academic discussion must never be curtailed. But at the moment
I'm more interested in meeting your Professor Garet. Where is he?"
"In--in the bell tower, sir. Right over there." He pointed. "But you
can't go in. No one can." He looked at Alis as if for confirmation. She
shook her head.
"We'll see about that," the Senator said. "Carry on with your free and
open discussion. And remember, stick to your guns. Sorry I can't stay."
He headed for the bell tower, followed by his guards.
Alis waited till he had gone in, then tugged at Don's sleeve. "Come on.
Let's see the fun."
"Alis," the speaker called to her, "was that really Senator Thebold?"
"Sure was. But what's this Garet-Rubach Axis? What's everybody up to?"
"Not Axis. That was Thebold's propaganda word. It's a movement of--oh,
never mind. You don't appreciate your own father."
"You can say that again. Come on, Don."
As Alis closed the door to the bell tower behind them, they heard
Professor Garet's voice from above.
"Attention interlopers," it said. "You have come unasked and now you
find yourself paralyzed, unable to move a muscle except to breathe."
"Stay down here," Alis whispered. "There's a sort of vestibule one
flight up. That's where Thebold must have got it. Father spends all his
spare time guarding his holy of holies. Nobody gets past the vestibule."
She frowned. "But I didn't know he had a paralysis thing, too."
"He probably swiped it from Hector before he broke with him," Don said.
Professor Garet's voice came again. "I shall now pass among you and
relieve you of your weapons. Why, if it isn't Senator Thebold and his
strong-arm crew! I'm honored, Senator. Here we are: three archaic .45's
disposed of. Very soon now you'll have the pleasure of seeing a
scientific weapon in action."
* * * * *
Don, standing with Alis on the steps of the Administration Building,
didn't know whether to be impressed or amused by the giant machine
Professor Garet had assembled. It was mounted on the flat bed of an old
Reo truck, and various parts of it went skyward in a dozen directions.
Garet had driven it onto the campus from a big shed behind the bell
tower.
The machine's crowning glory was a big bowl-shaped sort of thing that
didn't quite succeed in looking like a radar scanner. It was at the end
of a universal joint which permitted it to aim in any direction.
"What's it supposed to do?" Don asked.
"From what I gather," Alis said, "it's Hector's paralysis thing, adapted
for distance. Only of course nobody admits Father stole it. It's
supposed to have antigravity powers, too, like whatever it was that took
Superior up in the first place. Naturally I don't believe a word of it."
"But where's he going with it?"
"He's ready to take on all comers, I gather. Please don't try to make
sense out of it. It's only Father."
The young man who had addressed the student rally took over the driver's
seat and Professor Garet hoisted himself into a bucket seat at the rear
of the truck near a panel which presumably operated the machine. Maynard
Rubach sat next to the driver. The small army of dedicated students who
had been assembling fell in behind the truck. They were unarmed, except
with faith.
Senator Thebold and his two former bodyguards, de-paralyzed, sat trussed
up in the back of a weapons carrier, looking disgusted with everything.
"Are we ready?" Professor Garet called.
A cheer went up.
"Then on to the enemy--in the name of science!"
Don shook his head. "But even if this crazy machine could knock out
Hector's and Thebold's men and the Garet-Rubach Axis reigns supreme,
then what? Does he claim he can get Superior back to Earth?"
Alis said only, "Please, Don ..."
The forces of science were ready to roll. There had been an embarrassing
moment when the old Reo's engine died, but a student worked a crank
with a will and it roared back to life.
The Garet machine, the weapons carrier and the foot soldiers moved off
the campus and onto Shaws Road toward Broadway and the turn-off for the
country club.
They met an advance party of the Thebold forces just north of McEntee
Street. There were about twenty of them, armed with carbines and
submachine guns. As soon as they spotted the weird armada from Cavalier
they dropped to the ground, weapons aimed.
Senator Thebold rose in his seat. "Hold your fire!" he shouted to his
men. "We don't shoot women, children, or crackpots." He said to
Professor Garet, "All right, mastermind, untie me."
XI
A submarine surfaced on the Atlantic, far below Superior.
It was obvious to the commander of the submarine, which bore the
markings of the Soviet Union, that the runaway town of Superior, being
populated entirely by capitalist madmen, was a menace to humanity. The
submarine commander made a last-minute check with the radio room, then
gave the order to launch the guided missiles which would rid the world
of this menace.
The first missile sped skyward.
Superior immediately took evasive action.
First, in its terrific burst of acceleration, everybody was knocked
flat.
Next, Superior sped upward for a few hundred feet and everybody was
crushed to the ground.
At the same time the first missile, which was now where Superior would
have been had it maintained its original course, exploded. A miniature
mushroom cloud formed.
The submarine fired again and a second missile streaked up.
Superior dodged again. But this time its direction was down. Everyone
who was outdoors--and a few who had been under thin roofs--found himself
momentarily suspended in space.
Don and Alis, among the hundreds who had had the ground snatched out
from under them, clung to each other and began to fall. All around them
were the various adversaries who had been about to clash. Professor
Garet had been separated from his machine and they were following
separate downward orbits. Many of Thebold's men had dropped their guns
but others clung to them, as if it were better to cling to something
than merely to fall.
The downward swoop of Superior had taken it out of the immediate path of
the second missile, but whoever had changed the townoid's course had
apparently failed to take the inhabitants' inertia into immediate
consideration. The missile was headed into their midst.
Then two things happened. The missile exploded well away from the
falling people. And scores of kangaroo-like Gizls appeared from
everywhere and began to snatch people to safety.
Great jumps carried the Gizls into the air and they collected three or
four human beings at each leap. The leaps appeared to defy gravity,
carrying the creatures hundreds of feet up. The Gizls also appeared to
have the faculty of changing course while airborne, saving their charges
from other loose objects, but this might have been illusion.
At any rate, Geneva Jervis, who had been hurled up from the roof of
Hector's palace, where she had gone in hopes of catching a glimpse of
Senator Thebold, was reunited with the Senator when they were rescued by
the same Gizl, whose leap had carried him in a great arc virtually from
one edge of Superior to the other.
Don Cort, pressed close to Alis and grasped securely against the hairy
chest of their particular rescuer, was experiencing a combination of
sensations. One, of course, was relief at being snatched from certain
death.
Another was the delicious closeness of Alis, who he realized he hadn't
been paying enough attention to, in a personal way.
Another was surprise at the number of Gizls who had appeared in the
moment of crisis.
Finally he saw beyond doubt that it was the Gizls who were running the
entire show--that Hector I, Bobby the Bold, and the pseudo-scientific
Garet-Rubach Axis were merely strutters on the stage.
It was the Gizls who were maneuvering Superior as if it were a giant
vehicle. It was the Gizls who were exploding the missiles. And it was
the alien Gizls who, unlike the would-be belligerents among the
Earth-people, were scrupulously saving human lives.
"Thanks," Don said to his rescuing Gizl as it set him and Alis down
gently on the hard ground of the golf course.
"Don't mention it," the Gizl said, then leaped off to save others.
"He talked!" Alis said.
Don watched the Gizl make a mid-air grab and haul back a man who had
looked as if he might otherwise have gone over the edge. "He certainly
did."
"Then that must have been a masquerade, that other time--all that
mumbo-jumbo with the Anagrams."
"It must have been, unless they learn awfully fast."
He and Alis clutched each other again as Superior tilted. It remained
steady otherwise and they were able to see the ocean, whose surface was
marked with splashes as a variety of loose objects fell into it. Don had
a glimpse of Professor Garet's machine plummeting down in the midst of
most of Superior's vehicular population.
"There's a plane!" Alis cried. "It's going after something on the
surface."
"It's the Hustler," Don said. "It's after the submarine."
The B-58's long pod detached itself, became a guided missile and hit the
submarine square in the middle. There was a whooshing explosion, the
B-58 banked and disappeared from sight under Superior, and the sub went
down.
* * * * *
"Sergeant Cort," a voice said, and because Alis was lying with her head
on Don's chest she heard it first.
"Is that somebody talking to you, Don? Are you a sergeant?"
"I'm afraid so," he said. "I'll have to explain later. Sergeant Cort
here," he said to the Pentagon.
"Things are getting out of hand, Sergeant," the voice of Captain Simmons
said.
"Captain, that's the understatement of the week."
"Whatever it is, we can't allow the people of Superior to be endangered
any longer."
"No, sir. Is there another submarine?"
"Not as far as we know. I'm talking about the state of anarchy in
Superior itself, with each of three factions vying for power. Four,
counting the kangaroos."
"They're not kangaroos, sir. They're Gizls."
"Whatever they are. You and I know they're creatures from some other
world, and I've managed to persuade the Chief of Staff that this is the
case. He's in seeing the Defense Secretary right now. But the State
Department isn't buying it."
"You mean they don't believe in the Gizls?"
"They don't believe they're interplanetary. Their whole orientation at
State is toward international trouble. Anything interplanetary sends
them into a complete flap. We can't even get them to discuss the
exploration of the moon, and that's practically around the corner."
"What shall we do, sir?"
"Between you and me, Sergeant--" Captain Simmons' voice interrupted
itself. "Never mind that now. Here comes the Defense Secretary."
"Foghorn Frank?" Don asked.
"Sh."
Frank Fogarty had earned his nickname in his younger years when he
commanded a tugboat in New York Harbor. That was before his quick rise
in the shipbuilding industry where he got the reputation as a wartime
expediter that led to his cabinet appointment.
"Is this the gadget?" Don heard Fogarty say.
"Yes, sir."
"Okay. Sergeant Cort?" Fogarty boomed. "Can you hear me?" It was no
wonder they called him Foghorn.
"Yes, sir," Don said, wincing.
"Fine. You've been doing a topnotch job. Don't think I don't know what's
been going on. I've heard the tapes. Now, son, are you ready for a
little action? We're going to stir them up at State."
"Yes, sir," Don said again.
"Good. Then stand up. No, better not if Superior is still gyrating. Just
raise your right hand and I'll give you a field promotion to major.
Temporary, of course. I can do that, can't I, General?"
Apparently the Chief of Staff was there, and agreed.
"Right," Fogarty said. "Now, Sergeant, repeat after me...."
Don, too overwhelmed to say anything else, repeated after him.
"Now then, Major Cort, we're going to present the State Department with
what they would call a _fait accompli_. You are now Military Governor of
Superior, son, with all the power of the U.S. Defense Establishment
behind you. A C-97 troop carrier plane is loading. I'll give you the
ETA as soon as I know it. A hundred paratroopers. Arrange to meet them
at the golf course, near the blimp. And if Senator Thebold tries to
interfere--well, handle him tactfully. But I think he'll go along. He's
got his headlines and by now he should have been able to find his
missing lady friend. Help him in that personal matter if you can. As for
Hector Civek and Osbert Garet, be firm. I don't think they'll give you
any trouble."
"But, sir," Don said. "Aren't you underestimating the Gizls? If they see
paratroops landing they're liable to get unfriendly fast. May I make a
suggestion?"
"Shoot, son."
"Well, sir, I think I'd better go try to have a talk with them and see
if we can't work something out without a show of force. If you could
hold off the troops till I ask for them...."
Foghorn Frank said, "Want to make a deal, eh? If you can do it, fine,
but since State isn't willing to admit that there's such a thing as an
intelligent kangaroo, alien or otherwise, any little deals you can make
with them will have to be unofficial for the time being. All right--I'll
hold off on the paratroopers. The important thing is to safeguard the
civilian population and uphold the integrity of the United States. You
have practically unlimited authority."
"Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I'll do my best."
"Good luck. I'll be listening."
* * * * *
"As I see it," Alis said after Don had explained his connection with the
Pentagon, "Senator Thebold licked Hector Civek. Father, who defected
from Hector, captured the Senator and vice versa. But now the Gizls have
taken over from everybody and you have to fight them--all by your
lonesome."
"Not fight them," Don said. "Negotiate with them."
"But the Gizls are on Hector's side. It seems to come full circle. Where
do you start?"
Superior had returned to an even keel and Don helped her up. "Let's
start by taking a walk over to the bubble gum factory. We'll try to see
the Gizl-in-Chief."
There didn't seem to be anyone on the grounds of the McFerson place. The
boxcar which had been on the siding near the factory was gone. It was
probably at the bottom of the Atlantic by now, along with everything
else that hadn't been fastened down. Don wondered if Superior's
gyrations had been strong enough to dislodge the train that had
originally brought him to town. The Pennsylvania Railroad wouldn't be
happy about that.
They saw no one in the mansion and started for the basement room in
which they'd had their talk with the Gizl, passing through rooms where
the furniture had been knocked about as if by an angry giant. They were
stopped en route by Vincent Grande, ex-police chief now Minister of
Defense. "All right, kids," he said, "stick 'em up. Your Majesty," he
called, "look what I got."
Hector Civek, crownless but still wearing his ermine, came up the
stairs. "Put your gun away, Vince. Hello, Alis. Hello, Don. Glad to see
you survived the earthquake. I thought we were all headed for kingdom
come."
Vincent protested, "This is that traitor Garet's daughter. We can hold
her hostage to keep her father in line."
"Nuts," the king said. "I'm getting tired of all this foolishness. I'm
sure Osbert Garet is just as shaken up as we are. And that crazy
Senator, too. All I want now is for Superior to go back where it came
from, as soon as possible. And that's up to Gizl, I'm afraid."
"Have you seen him since the excitement?" Don asked.
"No. He went down that elevator of his when the submarine surfaced. I
guess his control room, or whatever it is that makes Superior go, is
down there. Let's take a look. Vince, will you put that gun away? Go
help them clean up the mess in the kitchen."
Vincent Grande grumbled and went away.
In the basement room, Hector went to the corner and said, "Hey! Anybody
down there?"
A deep voice said, "Ascending," and the blue-gray kangaroo-like creature
appeared. He stepped off the elevator section. "Greetings, friends."
"Well," Hector said, "I didn't know you could talk."
"Forgive my lack of frankness," Gizl said. "Alis," he said, bowing
slightly. "Your Majesty."
"Frankly," Hector said, "I'm thinking of abdicating. I don't think I
like being a figurehead. Not when everybody knows about it, anyhow."
"Major Cort," Gizl said.
Don looked startled. "What? How did you know?"
"We have excellent communications. We thank your military for its
assistance with the submarine."
"A pleasure. And we thank you and your people for saving us when we went
flying."
"Mutuality of effort," Gizl said. "I'll admit a dilemma ensued when the
submarine attacked. But our obligation to safeguard human lives
outweighed the other alternative--escape to the safety of space. Now
suppose we have our conference. You, Major, represent Earth. I, Rezar,
represent the survivors of Gorel-zed. Agreed?"
"Rezar?" Don said. "I thought your name was Gizl. And what's Gorel-zed?"
"Little Marie Bendy called me Gizl," Rezar said. "She couldn't pronounce
Gorel-zed. I'm afraid I haven't been entirely candid with you about a
number of things. But I think I know you better now. I heard your
conversation with Foghorn Frank."
Don smiled. "Do you mean you've been listening in ever since I strapped
on the transceiver?"
"Oh, yes," Rezar said. "So recapitulation is unnecessary. But we Gizls,
so-called, are still a mystery to you, of course. I suppose you'd like
some background. Where from, where to, when, and all that."
"I certainly would," Don said. "So would everybody else, I imagine,
especially King Hector here, and Mr. Fogarty."
"By all means let us communicate on the highest level," Rezar said.
"First, where from, eh?"
"Right. Are you listening, Mr. Secretary?"
"I sure am," Fogarty said. "What's more, son, you're being piped
directly into the White House--and a few other places."
"Good," Rezar said. "Now marvel at our saga."
XII
The end of a civilization is a tragic thing.
On the desert planet of Gorel-zed, the last world to survive the slow
nova of its sun, the Gizls, once the pests but now through brain surgery
the possessors in their hardy bodies of the accumulated knowledge of the
frail human beings, were preparing to flee. Their self-supporting ships
were ready, capable of crossing space to the ends of the universe.
But their universe was barren. No planet could receive them. All were
doomed as was theirs, Gorel-zed. They set out for a new galaxy, knowing
they would not reach it but that their descendants might. They became
nomads of space, self-sufficient.
For generations they wandered, their population diminishing. Their
scientist-philosophers evolved the theory that accounted for their
spaceborn ennui with life, their acceptance of their fate, their
eventual doom. They had no roots, no place of their own. They had only
the mechanistic world of their ships--which were vehicles, not a land.
They must find a home of their own, or die.
Several times in their odyssey they had come to a planet which could
have housed them. But each time an injunction which had been built into
them at the time of the brain surgery prevented them from staying. The
doomed human beings on Gorel-zed had built into the very fiber of the
Gizls--who were, after all, only animals--the injunction that no human
being could be harmed for their comfort.
This meant that the world of Ladnora, whose gentle saffron inhabitants
were incapable of offering resistance, could not be conquered. The
Ladnorans, in their generosity, had offered the refugees from Gorel-zed
a hemisphere of their own. But the Gizls required a world of their own,
not a half-world. They accepted a small continent only and made it
spaceborne and took it with them.
The Crevisians were the next to be visited. They ruled a belt of fertile
land around the equator of their world--the rest was icy waste. The
Gizls took a slice of each polar region and, joining them, made them
spaceborne.
In time they reached the system of Sol.
Mars attracted them first because of its sands. Mars was like Gorel-zed
in many ways. But that very resemblance meant it was not for them. Mars
was a dead world, as their own Gorel-zed had become.
But the next planet they came to was a green planet. The Gizls moored
the acquisitions in the asteroid belt and visited Earth.
Here, at their planetfall, Australia, was the perfect land. Even its
inhabitants--the great kangaroos, the smaller wallabies--breathed Home
to the Gizls. But there were also the human beings who had made the land
their own. And though memory of their origin had weakened in the Gizls,
the injunction had not.
For a time they set up a kind of camp in the great central desert and
with delight found their legs again. Out of the cramped ships they came,
to bound in freedom and fresh breathable air across the wasteland. But
hardy, naked, black human beings lived in the desert and they attacked
the Gizls with their primitive weapons. And when the Gizls fled, not
wishing to harm them, they came to white men, who attacked them with
explosive weapons.
And so they took to their ships and were spaceborne again. But the
attraction of Earth was strong and they sought another continent, called
North America.