Jake, Ed, and Cal were part of that hell. Each carried a smoking weapon
in his hands. A body lay on the floor. Somewhere in one of the small
rooms a woman was screaming. In the middle of the room stood the man
who was obviously in charge of the situation. At the sight of this man,
Kurt Zen felt his breath draw into his body so heavily that it whistled
through his nostrils.
Cuso's lieutenant!
The others in the room were the Asians who had been with the lieutenant
the night before.
"I should have slit their throats while they were asleep and in my
power last night," Zen raged.
The only sound in the passage was that of West breathing heavily, like
a man who had run a marathon and had lost. No, there were two men!
Additional shock came up in Kurt Zen when he realized he was the second
man. He seized the craggy man by the shoulder.
"West! They can't have that super radar. If we lose that, we have lost
the war."
The craggy man did not move.
Anguish grew in Zen's voice. "If we lose this one, it will be the first
war we have ever lost. And the last one. Nothing will remain to come
after us except death and desolation."
"I know," West said. "The race soul will have to start over, in the
swamps and on the mud flats, trying to rebuild the race with tools long
since worn out and out of place in time." Again the tones of a bell
were in his voice. But now the bell was tolling the death of a people,
wailing that the glory that once had been was truly gone, wailing that
the brave world that some men had tried to build was going into ashes
and into doom.
"Do you believe in the race soul too?" West gasped.
"_Belief_ is too weak a word. I _know_ it exists."
Nedra sighed in West's arms and opened her eyes. Seeing who was holding
her, she lay back in the arms of the craggy man, more than ever like a
tired child. "What was it?" she whispered. "What's wrong? I--I took a
little nap."
West set her on her feet and pointed at the opening. She clutched at
the stone wall as she saw what was happening inside.
Running, the bronze girl who had danced to the slow music the night
before, came fleeing from a room. One of Cuso's soldiers was pursuing
her. She fled like a deer before some great hound that was interested
in pulling her down but she did not flee fast enough. The soldier
caught her and dragged her back into a room.
"West, how many of these kids did you have here?" Zen asked.
"About fifty," the craggy man answered. "I don't know how many are
left nor can I guess how many will choose to stay alive if they are
conquered before their training is completed."
"And no weapons?"
"None."
"What about my gun that was taken from me while I slept?"
"What good would one gun do now?"
"None, I guess," Zen said, helplessly. "But as they try to run me down,
I'd like to have it in my hands. I'd at least take a few of them with
me before they got me."
"We will survive," West said, his voice a mumble.
Zen pointed through the opening to the bodies lying on the floor below
them. "They didn't," he said.
The craggy man groaned. "If I had time I would try to explain to you
that survival does not lie in the body and can never be achieved there."
Zen answered, "I have no time for metaphysics. For purposes of defense,
I'm taking command." He felt foolish as he spoke. What resources were
his to command, what troops, what weapons? He knew the answer as the
thought crossed his mind. If he only had the remnants of the broken
column moving down the mountains after its disastrous encounter with
Cuso's blooper. An idea came into his mind. Perhaps he could have these
troops. "Where's my pack?" he demanded. His radio equipment was in that.
"It went with your gun into the deep hole," West said. "The deep hole
is a fault the old miners uncovered here. It's miles deep." He shook
his head.
"Damn!" Kurt Zen said. The depression in him was as deep as the fault
in the mountain. "Isn't there any place where we can hide?"
"Many places," West said. "This whole mountain is a honeycomb of
tunnels and shafts. We have explored fifteen separate levels and there
are others which lie below the present water line." He did not protest
at Zen's statement that the latter was taking command, but seemed
willing to submit to the colonel's authority, and also interested in
seeing how Zen would handle the problem.
"Then find us a place to hide until we can decide what to do to
eliminate Cuso's men. A hiding hole first, then radio equipment. As
soon as I can gain access to short-wave transmitting equipment, I can
have a regiment of paratroopers on their way here."
"You sound as if you have authority," Nedra commented.
"I have."
"But you gave me the impression you were a deserter."
"They haven't discovered that yet, at headquarters. So far as they are
concerned, I'm on a secret mission. And I haven't deserted the human
race." Zen put sting into his words. The implication was that two
people present were really deserters.
"Ah, well, colonel, we shall see about that." West had recovered most
of his aplomb. Again he seemed to be observing from a great distance
the antics of this strange species called human. But his face remained
bleak and his eyes had flickers of lightning in them. He started away
from the opening.
And stopped as metal clanged ahead of them.
A door opened there. An Asian soldier with his rifle at the ready came
through. A second one followed the first. The rifles of both covered
West.
Zen jerked his arms toward the roof. Neither the craggy man nor Nedra
moved a muscle.
Slowly, West and Nedra raised their hands. At gun point, the two
soldiers herded them toward the main gallery. At the sight of them the
lieutenant hastily called Cal to him.
"Is this the one?" he demanded, pointing at West.
"That's him," Cal answered. "He's the leader here. He's the one you
want."
Elation appeared as a shock-wave on the yellow face of the Asian
lieutenant. Calling two men to him, he had West step aside, treating
the craggy man with respect that bordered on deference but also with
great firmness.
"You two stand against the wall with the others," he said to Nedra and
Kurt Zen. There was no deference in his voice as he spoke to them. "If
they move, shoot them!" he ordered his men. As Kurt and Nedra obeyed,
the lieutenant drew West to one side and began a conversation with him.
His men were still busy searching the old mine tunnels. Now and then
they brought more captives to the main gallery.
Cal, Jake, and Ed remained in the center of the big room. Cal was
trying to look important but the expression on his face indicated he
was hiding guilt pangs somewhere inside. As soon as he saw Nedra, Ed's
eyes became fixed on her though he did not look at her face. Jake's
murky eyes were roving the chamber. He did not seem to comprehend what
he was seeing but seemed to be living in some other world that was even
more confusing and more clouded than this one.
The bronze girl, utterly naked, came limping into the gallery from
one of the small rooms. She had a dazed expression on her face and
she looked around the room as if she could not comprehend what was
happening. At the sight of her, the lieutenant left off talking to West
for a moment, his eyes glowing. But his conversation with West was more
important than his lust. He motioned with his gun for the bronze girl
to take her place against the wall. She stared at him as if she did not
understand him. He waved the gun again.
Some dull comprehension of his meaning penetrated her mind. She
stumbled to the wall but fell face downward on the stone floor.
Nedra, with a little cry of pity on her lips, moved quickly to the side
of the bronze girl. Zen started to move, then stopped, but not because
the rifle of one of the guards was swinging up to menace him. Nedra
gave a quick examination of the girl, then got slowly to her feet.
"Dead?" Zen said.
"Y-es. But how did you know?"
"Just a hunch. What caused it, shock?"
"I imagine so. After she was violated, she wanted to die. So she really
died because she wanted to. I--I--" Tears appeared in Nedra's violet
eyes and ran down her cheeks. But she did not sob, though muscles moved
in her throat.
West glanced at the bronze girl. He seemed to know, without being told,
what had happened. His face became bleak. The lieutenant regarded the
body of the dead girl with regret. When the soldier who had violated
her came out of the room, the lieutenant ordered him to remove the
body.
Zen got the impression that the lieutenant, even though he was talking
earnestly with the craggy man, was waiting. Forty of the new people
were herded into the room and forced to stand against the walls. Bronze
striplings, they were. Not a one was out of his twenties and several
were obviously in their teens. Though they were confused, they kept
silent.
"Is this all?" Zen heard the lieutenant ask West.
The craggy man must have known at a glance the answer to this question
but he took the time to count every person. "This is all," he said
positively. The lieutenant seemed to believe him but Zen would have
given odds that the man was lying.
The lieutenant continued to wait.
A guard, entering hastily, saluted. When Zen saw who was following the
soldier he realized why the lieutenant had been waiting.
Cuso came into the gallery.
The Asian leader was a giant almost seven feet tall and big in
proportion. He looked capable of killing a man with his bare hands, and
probably was. Just looking at him, Zen knew why he had been selected to
lead the airborne landing in America. Radiating power and strength, he
was the type for this kind of mission.
Besides power, he radiated something else. Zen sensed this something
else as a sickening feeling at the pit of his stomach, a tightening of
muscles in the diaphragm.
When Cuso appeared, the lieutenant stiffened himself to attention
and almost broke his arm saluting. He and Cuso spoke together in a
sing-song dialect that Zen did not pretend to understand. As they
talked, the lieutenant continued to point at West. A grin broke out on
Cuso's face. He beckoned the craggy man to him.
The craggy man approached, but did not salute. Prisoners were not
permitted to salute. Nor did he get down on his hands and knees,
which was not only permitted but required among the Asians. West stood
arrow-straight.
In spite of his disagreements with him, Zen felt proud of Sam West
now. Cuso was grinning placatingly but in spite of the grin, West
surely knew that he was looking at death, that the slightest show of
resistance on his part would have only one result, although Cuso might
save him until he had wrung all possible information out of him. Zen
did not in the least doubt that information was what the Asian wanted
first. After that, there was the tradition of torturing helpless
prisoners.
"I have heard much about you," Cuso said. For an Asian, he spoke fair
English.
"I am greatly honored," West answered. "However, I am curious as to how
you heard about me."
A sly grin flitted across the Asian's face. "We 'ave our sources of
information."
"Spies?" West asked.
"We 'ave spies, of course, but they could not find out much about you.
There are other ways--how do you say it?"
"Clairvoyants?" West asked.
"Yes, that is right." Cuso looked pleased to be given the right word.
He also looked startled because he had been given the right fact.
Zen, listening, was surprised too. He knew that the suggestion to use
clairvoyants to find out what the enemy was doing had often been made.
As an intelligence officer, he had investigated several clairvoyants
who had volunteered for this purpose. He knew that such a project had
been set up but he did not know what the results had been, if any.
However, to learn that the enemy had not only entertained the same
ideas, but had used them with some success, startled him.
"I suspected clairvoyants," West said.
"Ah," Cuso said. "Did you also suspect that the only reason this
airborne landing was made on these shores was to capture you?"
Even West's perfect control of his features could not hide the start of
surprise at these words. "I am not that important," he said.
Cuso smiled deprecatingly and made a little gesture with his hand which
said that such modesty was becoming in the truly great. Oddly, Zen had
the impression that the Asian leader meant this. "As to that, I have
the great privilege of offering you a commission as a field marshal in
the armies of United Asia." His voice dripped oil and awe, oil because
he was selling, awe because he was truly impressed by the rank of field
marshal. Perhaps as a result of the successful achievement of this
difficult mission, even he might have this rank. Hunger thickened on
Cuso's face as he thought of this.
West blinked, then smiled back at Cuso. "That is interesting. But what
makes you think I would be interested in such a commission--or in any
commission--in your armies?"
"For protection, for one reason," Cuso answered promptly. "Our reports
indicate that you are not a citizen of any country. Since this leaves
you with no friends to protect you, this is an undesirable position. On
the other hand, since you belong to no one, every country feels that
you are an enemy. Because of this, your life is constantly in danger.
However, holding our commission, you are automatically a citizen of
United Asia, and thus are under our protection."
Cuso spoke as if being a citizen of United Asia was important and that
holding a commission in its armies was even more so.
"Do you think I have no friends?" West asked.
"Well, you are not a citizen of--"
"Why do you think I need protection?" West continued.
The oily smile slid off of the giant Asian's face. For an instant,
the wild beast underneath showed through. "Perhaps you do not need
protection personally. But under the circumstances as I have outlined
them, our mantle would automatically extend to the people working with
you." His eyes went around the room to the youths standing rigidly
against the wall. In this circuit, his gaze flicked contemptuously past
the corpses lying on the floor.
The face of the craggy man got bleak again. He understood only too well
what lay back of Cuso's words. "I see what you mean. But what do you
wish of me?" His voice carried an intimation of surrender in the face
of odds that he recognized as being hopeless.
Zen, with his back to the wall, tried to keep from squirming. Emotions
that were causing actual pain were in his body. Why would the race mind
permit such an outrage as this?
The smile on Cuso's face went from ear to ear. Here was victory, here
was the submission of the enemy. Here was what his leaders wanted. Here
was a marshal's baton for him.
"Really very little." He drew in his breath with a hiss as he addressed
West, a sign of deferent politeness. "Merely that you show us what
you have here. And, of course, that you should explain it all to our
scientists and engineers, showing them how your equipment operates."
The room got very quiet after Cuso had finished speaking. West seemed
to muse. "What do you think we have here?" he said.
"If I knew the answer to that question, I would not be asking such a
stupid thing," Cuso answered.
"Quite true," West agreed. "I was stupid to even ask such a question."
"The time is here to end stupidity," Cuso said.
"Again I agree," the craggy man answered. He shrugged. "Well, when and
where do you want me to start?" The smile on his face was a mixture of
fear and resignation. It indicated that he had given up completely.
"Now you are talking the kind of words I like to hear," Cuso said
emphatically. "You will start now, and show me, personally, everything
that is of importance in this mountain."
"Very well. Follow me." West turned and moved toward the opening that
led to the chamber where the super radar was hidden.
"Wait here," Cuso snapped at his lieutenant. "Shoot any person who
moves."
"Yes, great one," the lieutenant answered, saluting. This was the kind
of order he loved to obey.
Cuso and West went out of sight.
Jake, Cal, and Ed stood in the middle of the room. Ed approached the
lieutenant, nodded toward Nedra, and spoke earnestly to the man.
The lieutenant shook his head vigorously, a gesture which seemed to
indicate that Ed was being very stupid. The bantam grumbled to himself
and moved away. Out of the corners of his eyes he kept watching the
nurse.
Nedra ignored him. She also ignored Kurt Zen. As silent as so many
statues, the new people stood against the stone walls. They seemed
stunned. The impossible had happened to them and they were having
difficulty in adjusting to it. John was not in the room. Either he had
succeeded in hiding or he had been killed.
The fat youth was standing directly across the gallery from Zen.
Farther down the wall, clad in pants and a bra, was a shapely blonde.
When he was not watching Nedra, Ed paid attention to her. His actions
seemed to irritate the lieutenant. Lifting his rifle, he fired a single
shot through the head of the bantam.
Ed collapsed, dead before he hit the floor. Two Asian soldiers carried
the body away.
"That lieutenant is hell on lovers," Zen whispered.
Nedra did not answer him. Her face was pale and her breathing was
shallow. A film of sweat glistened on her forehead. Glancing at her,
Zen had the impression that she was listening.
For what? he wondered. The only thing that was left for any of them
was the sounding of the trump of doom. Zen had no illusions that Cuso
would keep his promises for any longer than was expedient. First,
West and all the others must be pumped dry of information, the whole
interior of the mountain must be thoroughly explored, then--more bodies
for the deep hole.
Zen had no illusions that either West or the new people would long
survive the information they could be forced to divulge. As to Cuso's
talk of West being given a commission as a marshal of the Asian
Federation, for protection, the colonel knew that Asian field marshals
had been listed among the missing before now. A field marshal who fell
from grace vanished.
Across the gallery the fat youth also vanished.
One second he was there, the next second he was--gone!