"You're right, Tom," said Major Connel. "They must be around here
somewhere. Start looking. If they're not here, it may mean he's still
alive."
It was Tom who had thought of looking for Astro's weapons. Refusing to
believe that his unit mate had been killed, the curly-haired cadet was
examining the torn jungle suit when the idea occurred to him.
Quickly Roger, Connel, and Tom spread out over the trampled area,
searching the underbrush for Astro's paralo-ray pistol or shock rifle.
Connel examined the underbrush and vines closely for scorch marks made
by the blaster. Finding none, he rejoined the boys.
"Well?" he asked.
"Nothing, sir," replied Roger.
"Can't find them, Major," said Tom.
Connel smacked his fists together and spoke excitedly. "I'm sure Astro
wouldn't be caught unawares by a couple of things like a snake or a
tyrannosaurus without putting up a fight. If he was attacked suddenly,
he would have fired at least one shot, and if it went wild, it would
have burned the vines and brush around here. You didn't find his
weapons, and there are no scorched areas. I'll stake my life on it,
Astro's alive!"
Roger's and Tom's faces brightened. They knew Connel had no proof, but
they were willing to believe anything that would keep their hopes for
their giant unit mate alive.
"Now," said Connel, "assuming he is not dead, and that he is somewhere
in the jungle, we have to figure out what he would do."
Roger was thoughtful a moment. "How long would he last without his
jungle suit, sir?"
"What do you mean?" asked Connel.
Tom's eyes lit up. "If he's alive, sir, then he's probably following a
path or trail that would keep him away from heavy underbrush," he said.
Connel thought a moment. "There's only one trail away from here." He
turned and pointed to the trail made by the tyrannosaurus. "That one."
The three spacemen stared at the wide path left by the huge beast.
Connel hesitated. "It's due north," he said finally. "We've come a full
day west and should be making a turn north. We'll follow the
tyrannosaurus's trail for a full day."
Roger and Tom grinned. They knew Connel was making every effort to find
Astro, while still keeping his mission in mind.
The three spacemen moved along the trail quickly, eyes alert for any
sign Astro might have left. Connel saw the great bloodstains left by the
tyrannosaurus and cautioned the two cadets. "This tyranno is wounded
pretty badly. It might be heading back for its lair, but it might not
make it, and stop along the way. Be careful and keep your eyes open for
any sign that he might have--"
Connel was stopped by Tom's sudden cry. "Major! Look!"
Connel turned and stared. A thousand yards ahead of them on the broken
trail they saw the monstrous bulk of a tyrannosaurus emerge from the
gloom.
"By the rings of Saturn," breathed Connel, "that's the one!"
The great beast spotted the three Earthmen at the same instant. It
raised itself on its hind legs, and shaking its massive head in anger,
started to charge down its own trail toward them.
"Disperse!" cried Connel. "Take cover!"
Tom and Roger darted to one side of the trail while Connel dived for the
other. Taking cover behind a tree, the boys turned and pointed their
rifles down the trail. They saw that the tyrannosaurus had already
covered half the distance between them.
"Aim for the legs!" shouted Connel, from his place of concealment.
"Don't try for a head shot! He's moving too fast! Give it to him in the
legs. Try to cut him down!"
Roger and Tom lay flat on the ground and trained their rifles on the
approaching beast.
"I'll take the right leg," said Roger. "You take the left, Tom."
"On target!" replied Tom, squinting through the sight.
"Ready!" Connel's voice roared across the trail.
Only a hundred and fifty feet away the tyrannosaurus, hearing Connel's
voice, suddenly stopped. Its head weaved back and forth as though it
suspected a trap.
"Fire!" roared Connel.
Tom and Roger fired together, but at the same moment the monster lunged
toward Connel's position. Both shots missed, the energy charges merely
scorching its sides.
[Illustration]
The tyrannosaurus roared with anger and turned toward the boys, head
down and the claws of its short forelegs extended.
At that moment Connel opened fire, aiming for the monster's vulnerable
neck. But it was well protected behind its shoulders and the spaceman
only succeeded in drawing the beast's attention back to himself.
At this instant Tom and Roger opened fire again, sending violent shock
charges into the beast's hide. Caught in the withering cross fire, it
turned blindly on the boys and charged at them. The two cadets fired
coolly, rapidly, unable to miss the great bulk. The air became acrid
with the sharp odor of ionized air. Maddened now beyond the limits of
its endurance, hit at least twenty times and wild with pain, the great
king of the Venusian jungle bore down on the two cadets.
[Illustration]
Roger and Tom saw that their fire was not going to stop the
tyrannosaurus's charge. They were pouring a nearly steady stream of fire
into the monster now, while on the other side of the trail Connel was
doing the same, raking the monstrous hulk from the forelegs to the
hindquarters.
The boys jumped back, Tom still facing the beast and firing his rifle
from the waist. But Roger stumbled in the tangle of the underbrush and
fell backward, dropping his rifle. The beast's head swooped low, jaws
open.
Seeing Roger's danger, Tom jumped downward again without hesitation and
fired point-blank at the beast's scaly head, only ten feet away.
The monster roared in sudden agony and pulled back, jerking his head up
against a thick branch of the tree overhead. The limb tore loose under
the impact and fell crashing to the ground on top of Roger.
From behind, Connel stepped closer to the tyrannosaurus and fired from a
twenty-five-foot range. It wavered and stumbled back, obviously mortally
wounded. From both sides Tom and Connel poured their weapons' power into
the giant beast. Blinded, near death, the monster wavered uncertainly.
Bellowing in fear and pain, it turned and lumbered back down the trail.
Connel and Tom watched it until they were certain it could not attack
them without warning again, and then they hurried to Roger. The heavy
tree limb had landed across his back, pinning him to the ground.
"Roger!" yelled Tom. "Roger, are you all right?"
The blond-haired cadet didn't answer. Grabbing a stout branch lying on
the ground near by, Connel and Tom worked it beneath the limb which lay
across Roger's body and pried it up.
"I've got it," said Connel, holding the weight of the limb on his
shoulder. "Pull him out!"
Tom quickly pulled the unconscious cadet clear and laid him on the
ground. Dropping the limb, Connel bent down to examine the boy. He ran
his fingers along Roger's spine, feeling the bones one by one through
the skin-tight jungle suit. Finally he straightened and shook his head.
"I can't tell anything," he said. "We'll have to take him back to
Sinclair's right away." He stood up. "I'll make a stretcher for him.
Meanwhile, you go after that tyranno and finish him off. He's pretty
far gone, but you never can tell."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied Tom. He picked up his rifle and reloaded it,
checking it carefully. He repeated the precaution with Roger's blaster.
"Hurry up," urged Connel, already reaching for a suitable branch. "Time
means everything now."
"Be right back, sir," replied Tom. And as he walked away, he looked back
at the unconscious form of his unit mate. He could not help reflecting
on the bitter fact that already two members of the expedition were in
danger, and they were no closer to their goal of finding the
Nationalists' hidden base.
Moving carefully, one of the two rifles slung over his shoulder, the
other in his hand ready for use, Tom followed the trail of the
tyrannosaurus. Two thousand yards farther along he saw a place where the
monster had fallen and then struggled back to its feet to stagger on.
Rounding a turn in the trail, Tom stopped abruptly. Before him, not a
hundred feet away, the beast lay sprawled on the ground. The area all
around was devoid of any vegetation. It was trampled down to the black
soil. Tom deduced that it was the beast's lair. He pressed forward
cautiously until he was a scant thirty feet away, and crouched between
the roots of a huge tree where he would be protected should the monster
be able to rise and fight again.
Sighting carefully on the base of the monster's neck, he squeezed the
trigger of the shock rifle. A full energy charge hit the tyrannosaurus
in its most vulnerable spot. It jerked under the sudden blast,
involuntarily tried to rise to its feet, and then fell back, the ground
shaking under the impact of its thirty tons. Then, after one convulsive
kick with its hind legs that uprooted a near-by tree, the beast
stiffened and lay still.
Tom waited, watching the beast for signs of life. After five minutes he
stepped forward cautiously, his rifle ready. He circled the
tyrannosaurus slowly. The great bulk towered above him, and the cadet's
eyes widened in amazement at the size of the fallen giant. Stopping at
its head, which was as wide as he was tall, Tom looked at the jaws and
teeth that had torn so many foes into bloody bits, and shook his head.
He had come to the jungle to kill just such a beast. But with Astro
missing and Roger unconscious the thrill of victory was somehow missing.
He turned and headed back down the trail.
Connel had finished the litter by the time Tom returned, and the officer
was leaning over the blond-haired cadet, examining his back again.
"We'd better move out right away, Tom," said Connel. "I still can't tell
what's wrong. It may be serious, and then it may be nothing more than
just shock. But we can't take a chance."
Tom nodded. "Very well, sir." He adjusted his shoulder pack, slung both
rifles over his shoulder, and started to pick up his end of the litter
when suddenly the jungle silence was shattered by a deafening roar.
Connel jumped to his feet!
"Corbett!" he cried. "That's a rocket ship blasting off!"
"It sure sounded like it, sir," replied Tom.
"And I'll stake my life it's not more than a half mile away!"
The two men jumped out into the trail and scanned the sky. The
unmistakable roar of a spaceship echoed through the jungle. The ship was
accelerating, and the reverberations of the rocket exhaust rolled over
the treetops. Suddenly a flash of gleaming metal streaked across the sky
and Connel roared.
"We've found it, Corbett!" He slapped the cadet on the back. "The
Nationalists' base! We've found it!"
Tom nodded, a half-smile on his face. "We sure have, Major." He
hesitated a moment. "You know, sir, if Roger is really badly hurt we
might not make it back to Sinclair's in time, so--" He stopped.
"I know what you're thinking, Tom," said the officer, "and I agree. But
one of us has to go back with the information."
"You go, sir," said Tom. "I'll take Roger and--"
"You can't carry him alone--"
"I can make it somehow," protested Tom.
Connel shook his head. "I'll help you."
"You mean, you're going to allow yourself to be captured too?"
spluttered Tom.
"Not quite." Connel smiled. "But a good intelligence agent gets as much
information as he can. And he gets correct information! I'll help you
get him to the base and you can take him on in for medical attention.
I'll get back to Sinclair's later."
Tom tried to protest, but the burly spaceman had turned away.