Ross stood cautiously against the wall of his darkened room, his head
turned toward the slightly open door. A slight shuffling sound had
awakened him, and he was now as ready as a cat before her spring. But he
did not hurl himself at the figure now easing the door farther open. He
waited until the visitor was approaching the bunk before he slid along
the wall, closing the door and putting his shoulders against it.
"What's the pitch?" Ross demanded in a whisper.
There was a ragged breath, maybe two, then a little laugh out of the
dark. "You are ready?" The visitor's accent left no doubt as to his
identity. Kurt was paying him the promised visit.
"Did you think that I wouldn't be?"
"No." The dim figure sat without invitation on the edge of the bunk. "I
would not be here otherwise, Murdock. You are plenty ... have plenty on
the ball. You see, I have heard things about you. Like me, you were
tricked into this game. Tell me, is it not true that you saw Hardy
tonight."
"You hear a lot, don't you?" Ross was noncommittal.
"I hear, I see, I learn more than these big mouths, like the major with
all his do's and don'ts. That I can tell you! You saw Hardy. Do _you_
want to be a Hardy?"
"Is there any danger of that?"
"Danger!" Kurt snorted. "Danger--you have not yet known the meaning of
danger, little man. Not until now. I ask you again, do you want to end
like Hardy? They have not yet looped you in with all their big talk.
That is why I came here tonight. If you know what is good for you,
Murdock, you will make a break before they tape you----"
"Tape me?"
Kurt's laugh was full of anger, not amusement. "Oh, yes. They have many
tricks here. They are big brains, eggheads, all of them with their
favorite gadgets. They put you through a machine to get you registered
on a tape. Then, my boy, you cannot get outside the base without ringing
all the alarms! Neat, eh? So if you want to make a break, you must try
it before they tape you."
Ross did not trust Kurt, but he was listening to him attentively. The
other's argument sounded convincing to one whose general ignorance of
science led him to be as fearful of the whole field as his ancestors had
been of black magic. As all his generation, he was conditioned to
believe that all kinds of weird inventions were entirely possible and
probable--usually to be produced in some dim future, but perhaps today.
"They must have you taped," Ross pointed out.
Kurt laughed again, but this time he was amused. "They believe that they
have. Only they are not as smart as they believe, the major and the
rest, including Millaird! No, I have a fighting chance to get out of
this place, only I cannot do it alone. That is why I have been waiting
for them to bring in a new guy I could get to before they had him pinned
down for good. You are tough, Murdock. I saw your record, and I'm
betting that you did not come here with the intention of staying.
So--here is your chance to go along with one who knows the ropes. You
will not have such a good one again."
The longer Kurt talked, the more convincing he was. Ross lost a few of
his suspicions. It was true that he had come prepared to run at the
first possible opportunity, and if Kurt had everything planned, so much
the better. Of course, it was possible that Kurt was a stool pigeon,
leading him on as a test. But that was a chance Ross would have to take.
"Look here, Murdock, maybe you think it's easy to break out of here. Do
you know where we are, boy? We're near enough to the North Pole as makes
no difference! Are you going to leg it back some hundreds of miles
through thick ice and snow? A nice jaunt if you make it. I do not think
that you can--not without plans and a partner who knows what he is
about."
"And how _do_ we go? Steal one of those atomjets? I'm no pilot--are
you?"
"They have other things besides a-j's here. This place is strictly
hush-hush. Even the a-j's do not set down too often for fear they will
be tracked by radar. Where have you been, boy? Don't you know the Reds
are circling around up here? These fellows watch for Red activity, and
the Reds watch them. They play it under the table on both sides. We get
our supplies overland by cats----"
"Cats?"
"Snow sleds, like tractors," the other answered impatiently. "Our stuff
is dumped miles to the south, and the cats go down once a month to bring
it back. There's no trick to driving a cat, and they tear off the
miles----"
"How many miles to the south?" inquired Ross skeptically. Granted Kurt
was speaking the truth, travel over an arctic wilderness in a stolen
machine was risky, to say the least. Ross had only a very vague idea of
the polar regions, but he was sure that they could easily swallow up the
unwary forever.
"Maybe only a hundred or so, boy. But I have more than one plan, and I'm
willing to risk _my_ neck. Do you think I intend to start out blind?"
There was that, of course. Ross had early sized up his visitor as one
who was first of all interested in his own welfare. He wouldn't risk his
neck without a definite plan in mind.
"Well, what do you say, Murdock? Are you with me or not?"
"I'll take some time to chew it over----"
"Time is what you do not have, boy. Tomorrow they will tape you.
Then--no over the wall for you."
"Suppose you tell me your trick for fooling the tape," Ross countered.
"That I cannot do, seeing as how it lies in the way my brain is put
together. Do you think I can break open my skull and hand you a piece of
what is inside? No, you jump with me tonight or else I must wait to grab
the next one who lands here."
Kurt stood up. His last words were spoken matter-of-factly, and Ross
believed he meant exactly what he said. But Ross hesitated. He wanted to
try for freedom, a desire fed by his suspicions of what was going on
here. He neither liked nor trusted Kurt, but he thought he understood
him--better than he understood Ashe or the others. Also, with Kurt he
was sure he could hold his own; it would be the kind of struggle he had
experienced before.
"Tonight...." he repeated slowly.
"Yes, tonight!" There was new eagerness in Kurt's voice, for he sensed
that the other was wavering. "I have been preparing for a long time, but
there must be two of us. We have to take turns driving the cat. There
can be no rest until we are far to the south. I tell you it will be
easy. There are food caches arranged along the route for emergencies. I
have a map marked to show where they are. Are you coming?"
When Ross did not answer at once the other moved closer to him.
"Remember Hardy? He was not the first, and he will not be the last. They
use us up fast here. That is why they brought you so quickly. I tell
you, it is better to take your chance with me than on a run."
"And what is a run?"
"So they have not yet briefed you? Well, a run is a little jaunt back
into history--not nice comfortable history such as you learned out of a
book when you were a little kid. No, you are dropped back into some
savage time before history----"
"That's impossible!"
"Yes? You saw those two big blond boys tonight, did you not? Why do you
suppose they sport those braids? Because they are taking a little trip
into the time when he-men wore braids, and carried axes big enough to
crack a man open! And Hodaki and his partner.... Ever hear of the
Tartars? Maybe you have not, but once they nearly overran most of
Europe."
Ross swallowed. He now knew where he had seen braids pictured on
warriors--the Vikings! And Tartars, yes, that movie about someone named
Khan, Genghis Khan! But to return into the past was impossible.
Yet, he remembered the picture he had watched today with the wolf slayer
and the shaggy-haired man who wore skins. Neither of these was of his
own world! Could Kurt be telling the truth? Ross's vivid memory of the
scene he had witnessed made Kurt's story more convincing.
"Suppose you get sent back to a time where they do not like strangers,"
Kurt continued. "Then you are in for it. That is what happened to Hardy.
And it is not good--not good at all!"
"But why?"
Kurt snorted. "_That_ they do not tell you until just before you take
your first run. I do not want to know why. But I do know that I am not
going to be sent into any wilderness where a savage may run a spear
through me just to prove something or other for Major John Kelgarries,
or for Millaird either. I will try my plan first."
The urgency in Kurt's protest carried Ross past the wavering point. He,
too, would try the cat. He was only familiar with this time and world;
he had no desire to be sent into another one.
Once Ross had made his decision, Kurt hurried him into action. Kurt's
knowledge of the secret procedures at the base proved excellent. Twice
they were halted by locked doors, but only momentarily, for Kurt had a
tiny gadget, concealed in the palm of his hand, which had only to be
held over a latch to open a recalcitrant door.
There was enough light in the corridors to give them easy passage, but
the rooms were dark, and twice Kurt had to lead Ross by the hand,
avoiding furniture or installations with the surety of one who had
practiced that same route often. Murdock's opinion of his companion's
ability underwent several upward revisions during that tour, and he
began to believe that he was really in luck to have found such a
partner.
In the last room, Ross willingly followed Kurt's orders to put on the
fur clothing Kurt passed to him. The fit was not exact, but he surmised
that Kurt had chosen as well as possible. A final door opened, and they
stepped out into the polar night of winter. Kurt's mittened hand grasped
Ross's, pulling him along. Together, they pushed back the door of a
hangar shed to get at their escape vehicle.
The cat was a strange machine, but Ross was given no time to study it.
He was shoved into the cockpit, a bubble covering settled down over
them, closing them in, and the engine came to life under Kurt's urging.
The cat must be traveling at its best pace, Ross thought. Yet the crawl
which took them away from the mounded snow covering the base seemed
hardly better than a man could make afoot.
For a short time Kurt headed straight away from the starting point, but
Ross soon heard him counting slowly to himself as if he were timing
something. At the count of twenty the cat swung to the right and made a
wide half circle which was copied at the next count of twenty by a
similar sweep in the opposite direction. After this pattern had been
repeated for six turns, Ross found it difficult to guess whether they
had ever returned to their first course. When Kurt stopped counting he
asked, "Why the dance pattern?"
"Would you rather be scattered in little pieces all over the landscape?"
the other snapped. "The base doesn't need fences two miles high to keep
us in, or others out; they take other precautions. You should thank
fortune we got through that first mine field without blowing...."
Ross swallowed, but he refused to let Kurt know that he was rattled. "So
it isn't as easy to get away as you said?"
"Shut up!" Kurt began counting again, and Ross had some cold
apprehensive moments in which to reflect upon the folly of quick
decisions and wonder bleakly why he had not thought things through
before he leaped.
Again they sketched a weaving pattern in the snow, but this time the
arcs formed acute angles. Ross glanced now and then at the intent man at
the wheel. How had Kurt managed to memorize this route? His urge to
escape the base must certainly be a strong one.
Back and forth they crawled, gaining only a few yards in each of those
angled strikes to right or left.
"Good thing these cats are atomic powered," Kurt commented during one of
the intervals between mine fields. "We'd run out of fuel otherwise."
Ross fought down the impulse to move his feet away from any possible
contact point with the engine. These machines must be safe to ride in,
but the bogy of radiation was frightening. Luckily, Kurt was now back to
a straight track, with no more weaving.
"We are out!" Kurt said with exultation. But he added no more than just
the reassurance of their escape.
The cat crawled on. To Ross's eyes there was no trail to follow, no
guideposts, yet Kurt steered ahead with confidence. A little later he
pulled to a stop and said to Ross, "We have to drive turn and turn
about--your turn."
Ross was dubious. "Well, I can drive a car--but this----"
"Is fool proof." Kurt caught him up. "The worst was getting through the
mine fields, and we are out of that now. See here--" his hand made a
shadow on the lighted instrument panel, "this will keep you straight. If
you can steer a car, you can steer this. Watch!" He started up again and
once more swung the cat to the left.
A light on the panel began to blink at a rate which increased rapidly as
they veered farther away from their original course.
"See? You keep that light steady, and you are on course. If it begins to
blink, you cast about until it steadies again. Simple enough for a baby.
Take over and see."
It was hard to change places in the sealed cabin of the cat, but they
were successful, and Ross took the wheel gingerly. Following Kurt's
directions, he started ahead, his eyes focused on the light rather than
the white expanse before him. And after a few minutes of strain he
caught the hang of it. As Kurt had promised, it was very simple. After
watching him for a while, his instructor gave a grunt of satisfaction
and settled down for a nap.
Once the first excitement of driving the cat wore off, the operation
tended to become monotonous. Ross caught himself yawning, but he kept at
his post with dogged stubbornness. This had been Kurt's game all the way
through--so far--and he was certainly not going to resign his first
chance to show that he could be of use also. If there had only been some
break in the eternal snow, some passing light or goal to be seen ahead,
it would not have been so bad. Finally, every now and then, Ross had to
jiggle off course just enough so that the warning blink of light would
alert him and keep him from falling asleep. He was unaware that Kurt had
awakened during one of those maneuvers until the other spoke. "Your own
private alarm clock, Murdock? Okay, I do not quarrel with anyone who
uses his head. But you had better get some shut-eye, or we will not keep
rolling."
Ross was too tired to protest. They changed places, and he curled up as
best he could on his small share of seat. Only now that he was free to
sleep, he realized he no longer wanted to. Kurt must have thought Ross
had fallen asleep, for after perhaps two miles of steady grinding along,
he moved cautiously behind the wheel. Ross saw by the trace of light
from the instrument panel that his companion was digging into the breast
of his parka to bring out a small object which he held against the wheel
of the cat with one hand, while with the other he tapped out an
irregular rhythm.
To Ross the action made no sense. But he did not miss the other's sigh
of relief as he restored his treasure to hiding once more, as if some
difficult task was now behind him. Shortly afterward the cat ground to
a stop, and Ross sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What's the matter? Engine
trouble?"
Kurt had folded his arms across the wheel. "No. It is just that we are
to wait here----"
"Wait? For what? Kelgarries to come along and pick us up?"
Kurt laughed. "The major? How I wish that he _would_ arrive presently.
What a surprise he would receive! Not two little mice to be put back
into their cages, but the tiger cat, all claws and fangs!"
Ross sat up straighter. This now had the bad smell of a frame, a frame
with himself planted right in the middle. He figured out the
possibilities and came up with an answer which would smear Ross Murdock
all over any map. If Kurt were waiting to meet friends out here, they
could only be of one brand.
For most of his short life Ross had been engaged in a private war
against the restrictions imposed upon him by a set of legal rules to
which something within him would not conform. And he had, during those
same years filled with attacks, retreats, and strategic maneuvering,
formulated a code of rules by which to play his dangerous game. He had
not murdered, and he would never follow the path Kurt took. To one who
was supremely impatient of restraint, the methods and aims of Kurt's
employers were not only impossibly fantastic and illogical--they were to
be opposed to the last ounce of any man's energy.
"Your friends late?" He tried to sound casual.
"Not yet, and if you now plan to play the hero, Murdock, think better of
it!" Kurt's tone held the crack of an order--that note Ross had so much
disliked in the major's voice. "This is an operation which has been most
carefully planned and upon which a great deal depends. No one shall
spoil it for us now----"
"The Reds planted you on the project, eh?" Ross wanted to keep the other
talking to give himself a chance to think. And this was one time he had
to think, clearly and with speed.
"There is no need for me to tell you the sad tale of my life, Murdock.
And you would doubtless find much of it boring. If you wish to continue
to live--for a while, at least--you will remain quiet and do as you are
told."
Kurt must be armed, for he would not be so confident unless he had a
weapon he could now turn on Ross. On the other hand, if what Ross
guessed were true, this _was_ the time to play the hero--when there was
only Kurt to handle. Better to be a dead hero than a live captive in the
hands of Kurt's dear friends across the pole.
Without warning, Ross threw his body to the left, striving to pin Kurt
against the driver's side of the cabin, his hands clawing at the fur
ruff bordering the other's hood, trying for a throat hold. Perhaps it
was Kurt's over-confidence which betrayed him and left him open to a
surprise attack. He struggled hard to bring up his arm, but both his
weight and Ross's held him tight. Ross caught at his wrist, noticing a
gleam of metal.
They threshed about, the bulkiness of the fur clothing hampering them.
Ross wondered fleetingly why the other had not made sure of him earlier.
As it was he fought with all his vigor to keep Kurt immobile, to try and
knock him out with a lucky blow.
In the end Kurt aided in his own defeat. When Ross relaxed somewhat, the
other pushed against him, only to have Ross flinch to one side. Kurt
could not stop himself, and his head cracked against the wheel of the
cat. He went limp.
Ross made the most of the next few moments. He brought his belt from
under his parka, twisting it around Kurt's wrists with no gentleness.
Then he wriggled about, changing places with the unconscious man.
He had no idea of where to go, but he was sure he was going to get
away--at the cat's top speed--from that point. And with that in mind and
only a limited knowledge of how to manage the machine, Ross started up
and turned in a wide circle until he was sure the cat was headed in the
opposite direction.
The light which had guided them was still on. Would reversing its
process take him back to the base? Lost in the immensity of the cold
wilderness, he made the only choice possible and gunned the cat again.