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THE INVADERS
By MURRAY LEINSTER
_It started in Greece on the day after tomorrow. Before the last act raced to a close, Coburn was buried to his ears in assorted adventures, including a revolution and an invasion from outer space!_
_We're not given to throwing around the word "epic" lightly, but here _is_ one! Swashbuckling action, a great many vivid characters, and a weird mystery--all spun for you by one of the master story-tellers of our time._
On a certain day--it may be in the history books eventually--Coburn wasin the village of Ardea, north of Salonika in the most rugged part ofGreece. He was making a survey for purposes which later on turned outnot to matter much. The village of Ardea was small, it was very early inthe morning, and he was trying to get his car started when he heard theyell.
It was a shrill yell, and it traveled fast. Coburn jerked his headupright from the hood of the car. A whiskered villager with flappingtrousers came pounding up the single street. His eyes werepanic-stricken and his mouth was wide. He emitted the yell in a long,sustained note. Other villagers popped into view like ants from adisturbed ant-hill. Some instantly ran back into their houses. Othersbegan to run toward the outskirts of the village, toward the south.
Coburn, watching blankly, found himself astonished at the number ofpeople the village contained. He hadn't dreamed it was so populous. Allwere in instant frenzied flight toward the mountains. An old woman he'dseen barely hobbling, now ran like a deer. Children toddled desperately.Adults snatched them up and ran. Larger children fled on twinkling legs.The inhabitants of Ardea vanished toward the hills in a straggling,racing, panting stream. They disappeared around an outcrop of stonewhich was merely the nearest place that would hide them. Then there wassilence.
Coburn turned his head blankly in the direction from which they had run.He saw the mountains--incredibly stony and barren. That was all. No, notquite--there was something far away which was subtly different in colorfrom the hillsides. It moved. It flowed over a hill crest, comingplainly from somewhere beyond the mountains. It was vague in shape.Coburn felt a momentary stirring of superstition. There simply couldn'tbe anything so huge....
But there could. There was. It was a column of soldiers in uniforms thatlooked dark-gray at this distance. It flowed slowly out of the mountainslike a colossal snake--some Midgard monster or river of destruction. Itmoved with an awful, deliberate steadiness toward the village of Ardea.
Coburn caught his breath. Then he was running too. He was out of thevillage almost before he realized it. He did not try to follow thevillagers. He might lead pursuers after them. There was a narrow defilenearby. Tanks could hardly follow it, and it did not lead where theywould be going. He plunged into it and was instantly hidden. He peltedon. It was a trail from somewhere, because he saw ancientdonkey-droppings on the stones, but he did not know where it led. Hesimply ran to get away from the village and the soldiers who were comingtoward it.
This was Greece. They were Bulgarian soldiers. This was not war or eveninvasion. This was worse--a cold-war raid. He kept running and presentlyrocky cliffs overhung him on one side, a vast expanse of sky loomed tohis left. He found himself panting. He began to hope that he wasactually safe.
Then he heard a voice. It sounded vexed. Quite incredibly, it wastalking English. "But my dear young lady!" it said severely. "You simplymustn't go on! There's the very devil of a mess turning up, and youmustn't run into it!"
A girl's voice answered, also in English. "I'm sure--I don't know whatyou're talking about!"
"I'm afraid I can't explain. But, truly, you mustn't go on to thevillage!"
Coburn pushed ahead. He came upon the people who had spoken. There was agirl riding on a donkey. She was American. Trim. Neat. Uneasy, butreasonably self-confident. And there was a man standing by the trail,with a slide of earth behind him and mud on his boots as if he'd sliddown somewhere very fast to intercept this girl. He wore the distinctivecostume a British correspondent is apt to affect in the wilds.
They turned as Coburn came into view. The girl goggled at him. He wasnot exactly the sort of third person one expected to find on a verylonely, ill-defined rocky trail many miles north of Salonika.
When they turned to him, Coburn recognized the man. He'd met Dillon onceor twice in Salonika. He panted: "Dillon! There's a column of soldiersheaded across the border! Bulgarians!"
"How close?" asked Dillon.
"They're coming," said Coburn, with some difficulty due to lack ofbreath. "I saw them across the valley. Everybody's run away from thevillage. I was the last one out."
Dillon nodded composedly. He looked intently at Coburn. "You know me,"he said reservedly. "Should I remember you?"
"I've met you once or twice," Coburn told him. "In Salonika."
"Oh," said Dillon. "Oh, yes. Sorry. I've got some cameras up yonder. Iwant a picture or two of those Bulgarians. See if you can persuade thisyoung lady not to go on. I fancy it's safe enough here. Not a normalraid route through this pass."
Coburn nodded. Dillon expected the raid, evidently. This sort of thinghad happened in Turkey. Now it would start up here, in Greece. Thesoldiers would strike fast and far, at first. They wouldn't stop to huntdown the local inhabitants. Not yet.
"We'll wait," said Coburn. "You'll be back?"
"Oh, surely!" said Dillon. "Five minutes or less."
He started up the precipitous wall, at whose bottom he had slid down. Heclimbed remarkably well. He went up hand-over-hand despite the steepnessof the stone. It looked almost impossible, but Dillon apparently foundhandgrips by instinct, as a good climber does. In a matter of minuteshe vanished, some fifty feet up, behind a bulging mass of stone. He didnot reappear.
* * * * *
Coburn began to get his breath back. The girl looked at him, herforehead creased.
"Just to make sure," said Coburn, "I'll see if I can get a view backdown the trail."
Where the vastness of the sky showed, he might be able to look down. Hescrambled up a barrier two man-heights high. There was a screen ofstraggly brush, with emptiness beyond. He peered.
He could see a long way down and behind, and actually the village wasclearly in sight from here. There were rumbling, caterpillar-tread tanksin the act of entering it. There were anachronistic mounted men withthem. Cavalry is outdated, nowadays, but in rocky mountain country theycan have uses where tanks can't go. But here tanks and cavalry lookedgrim. Coburn squirmed back and beckoned to the girl. She joined him.They peered through the brushwood together.
The light tanks were scurrying along the single village street. Horsemenraced here and there. A pig squealed. There was a shot. The tanksemerged from the other side. They went crawling swiftly toward thesouth. But they did not turn aside where the villagers had. They headedalong the way Coburn had driven to Ardea.
Infantrymen appeared, marching into the village. An advance party,rifles ready. This was strict discipline and standard military practise.Horsemen rode to tell them that all was quiet. They turned and spurredaway after the tanks.
The girl said in a strained voice. "This is war starting! Invasion!"
Coburn said coldly, "No. No planes. This isn't war. It's a trainingexercise, Iron-Curtain style. This outfit will strike twenty--maybethirty miles south. There's a town there--Kilkis. They'll take it andloot it. By the time Athens finds out what's happened, they'll be readyto fall back. They'll do a little fighting. They'll carry off thepeople. And they'll deny everything. The West doesn't want war. Greececouldn't fight by herself. And America wouldn't believe that such thingscould happen. But they do. It's what's called cold war. Ever hear
ofthat?"
The main column of soldiers far below poured up to the village and wentdown the straggly street in a tide of dark figures. The village was verysmall. The soldiers came out of the other end of the village. Theypoured on after the tanks, rippling over irregularities in the way.They seemed innumerable.
"Three or four thousand men," said Coburn coldly. "This is a big raid.But it's not war. Not yet."
It was not the time for full-scale war. Bulgaria and the other countriesin its satellite status were under orders to put a strain upon theoutside world. They were building up border incidents and turmoil forthe benefit of their masters. Turkey was on a war footing, after anumber of incidents