CHAPTER VI
_The Fight in the Fort_
Its coming had been observed. Men wearing the uniforms of the Martianarmy dashed out, their pistols ready. A man dropped out of a gapinghole in the ship's skin, sat down unsteadily. Others dribbled out.
"Crazy man in there!" one of them shouted. "Look out, he's murderous!"The pistols came up. The soldiers began to close in, showing a certainprofessional eagerness.
They were perhaps within ten feet when a metal plate, sheared off fromthe pilot's cabin in the fall, lifted up. Barely visible under it wasa pair of large, running feet. One soldier, trying to oppose it withhis hands, was knocked senseless and bleeding. He might as well havetried to stop an oncoming rocket ship.
Neuro-pistols, bearing from every side, spanged briskly. They partlyneutralized one another. Their charges were partly reflected by themetal and partly absorbed by Tolto's great bulk. He was thoroughlyconfused now. Every way he looked in this glaring wilderness of desertand rocks were enemies.
* * * * *
But there! An opening loomed, cool and dark. The fortress entrance.Tolto dashed into it. There was the sharp challenge of a guard,unanswered; the futile hiss of a weapon.
The improvised shield wedged on a narrowing stairway. Tolto let itstick, ran up alone. The stairway went round and round, climbing everhigher. The fugitive's lungs were bursting.
At last he came to an airlock. He did not know how to operate it, sosmashed through. There was no rush of air, because the pressure hadalready been equalized in the rush to the wreck at ground level.Panting, listening for pursuers, Tolto looked around.
He found himself on a circular roof, bare except for the airlock and anumber of upright posts, whitened by the Sun.
It was some moments before he saw the unconscious figure of a manlying on the very edge of the lofty tower on which he was standing--aman naked and blackened. He was lying on his face, one arm and onefoot hanging over space as though he had fallen unconscious at thevery edge of the abyss.
Tolto collected his excited wits. This, at least was no enemy. Hisenemies were in power here. This must be a victim, a possible ally.
The man was stirring. The overhanging arm was feebly trying to graspsomething. If he were to roll over--
He did not have time. Tolto dragged him in to the safety of theairlock opening, where he could watch.
There were sounds of pursuit, faint and cautious.
Tolto grinned at the naked stranger.
"Who are you, little bug?" he asked.
Sime Hemingway tried to tell him but his swollen tongue would notbehave. Instead, he waved in the general direction of the Sun.
Tolto understood. "From Earth? Good guy, prob'ly. Want this dingus?"
* * * * *
Sime was able to take the neuro-pistol. He knew what was expected ofhim, and strove to collect his faculties so he could obey orders. Hecrawled a little way into the lock, where he could be in comparativedarkness, setting the little focalizer wheel at the side of the pistolfor maximum concentration. Such a beam would require good aiming,being narrow, but if it touched a vital center would be infalliblyfatal.
Meanwhile Tolto appraised one of the posts on the roof. It was firmlyset in masonry, but he found he could loosen it a little by shakingit. Presently he had it uprooted. It made a splendid battering ram, awar club fit for a giant such as he.
"Here they come!" Sime croaked, and, peering around a corner, tookcareful aim at the foremost attacker. At the first whispering impactof the beam the Martian sprawled, dead.
The soldiers were caught at a disadvantage. They were expecting clubor fist, but not the neuro-beam. Nevertheless Sime had no more easyopportunities. The Martians flung themselves down behind the bulge ofthe curved stairway, and the air became acrid under the malignantneuro-beams.
None of them reached Sime directly, but the stone walls reflected themto some extent, and even under their greatly weakened power he becomecold and sick.
The situation was by no means to his liking. There were other weaponsto be reckoned with, and he tried to keep consciousness from slippingaway from him. When at last his breathing became easier and hisdiaphragm moved without pain, Sime knew that danger was greatest. Forthis relief meant that the Martians had withdrawn down the stairway.
"Good-by, boys!" he thought, as he sprinted up into the comparativesafety of the open. He motioned to Tolto, who stood hopefully waitingwith his great war club, to stand clear.
* * * * *
There it was! Sime saw the faint phosphorescent reflection against thestone where the stairway curved. He did not wait to see the tinypellet of the atomic bomb floating up, but threw himself flat on theroof, tugging at Tolto, who understood and followed suit.
Even lying prone, and below the edge of the explosion cone, they werenearly blown off the roof. Though no larger than a pinhead, the bombhad the power of a thousand times its weight in fulminate of mercury.When the rain of small stones and dust had subsided, they rubbed theireyes and saw that the airlock was no more. In its place was a shallowpit, ending with the top of the battered stairway.
"Down after 'em!" Sime husked out of a raw throat. "Before they thinkit's safe to come after us!"
He led the way, the giant after him, carrying his club and a huge rockfragment. Sime saw a cautious peering head, and that Martian diedinstantly. Then they were around the bend and in the middle of afight. Sime deflected a hand that held a pistol, and its beam killedanother Martian who was about to let Tolto have it at close range.
There was a light-wand affixed to the wall a trifle further down.Tolto waded through the ruck of smaller men, tore it from its socketand hurled it up the stairs. A short sword bit into Sime's shoulder,but there was no force in the stroke, for in that instant Simeparalyzed his enemy's heart with the beam.
An officer barked a command, and the spang of neuro-beams ceased, tobe followed by the lethal rustling of swords. The passage was toocrowded for the neuro-pistols, giving the outnumbered prisoners theadvantage.
* * * * *
Tolto could not swing his club, but he hurled it, like a batteringram, into the middle of twenty or twenty-five of the garrison who werestill below him on the steps, trying to get closer. The heavy timbercleared a lane and the two stumbled down over crushed bodies. Sime wasnow the only one to use his pistol, for he had no friends there tokill accidentally.
The Martians, were putting up a game battle. They were heirs to thetraditions and the spirit of Earth's best fighting men. Science hadgiven them deadly and powerful weapons that could kill over longdistances, but they preferred to get close to their adversaries.
But Tolto was a Martian too. He had seized a sword from a dying handand was wielding it with aptitude and power. No formal thrust andparry for him, but merely a savage sweep that sent swords, arms andheads flying indiscriminately.
Sime, following him, his neuro hissing death from side to side,marveled at his ferocity. He saw a bare-bodied, bleeding fighter leapto Tolto's back, his sword poised for a downward stab for the jugular.Kicking viciously at the man who was just then coming at him, Simetried to bring Tolto's would-be killer down. But Tolto himselfattended to him, dashing him to his death with the elbow of his swordarm.
That diversion nearly cost Sime his life. Fortunately for him hetripped, and the sword-thrust that was to disembowel him merely gashedhis side. Sime was beginning to enjoy the fight. The exercise wasloosening up his cramped muscles, and the shaky feeling due to thereflected beams of the neuro-pistols was leaving him.
* * * * *
Tolto had smashed down the light-wands as they fought their way downthe steps, so that now they were in almost complete darkness. Onecould still see the occasional rise and fall of a glinting sword andthe dark shadow of an arm or head. They were almost clear when Toltoreceived his first serious wound, a stab in the abdomen that let
out asticky stream of blood.
There was an interval of silence, broken only by the groans of thewounded. The air was thick with the odor of raw blood and pungent withozone. They had fought their way down perhaps two hundred feet of thestairway, and due to its curve they could see neither top nor bottom.
"I'm stuck!" Tolto muttered.
"Bad?" Sime edged to his side, stepping, in the darkness, on the bodyof the man who had succeeded in delivering that sword-stroke beforeTolto's own blade had cleft him. He felt the edges of the wound, butin the darkness could not tell how serious it was.
"Feel sick? Any retching?" he croaked anxiously.
"Tolto's all right," the giant assured him. "I just said I was stuck."
Sime managed to make a hurried bandage out of the slashed fragment ofTolto's blouse, and again they resumed their descent. Strangely, theirenemies further up made no move to attack, although there were manyleft alive.
Sime laid his hand on Tolto's arm.
"Something wrong here. There's somebody at the bottom of the steps,and the fellows above want to give him elbow room. Well, we'll soonsee!"
* * * * *
They crawled up a short distance, began to haul inert bodies down,dragging them as far as the last curve, until they had formed abarricade of nineteen or twenty of their late enemies. It wasunpleasant work, but justified by following events.
"Can you just see the loom of it?" Sime asked.
"Yes."
"Watch!"
Sime felt about until he found a small fragment broken from the stonesteps. Keeping well within the shelter of the convex wall, he crepttoward the bend.
"Dig your fingers into a joint and hold on," he instructed Tolto,locating a crack for himself. Then he tossed the fragment gently overthe barricade of bodies.
There was the click of its fall, and a moment later things seemed toturn around. Clinging like leeches to the wall, the two men resistedthe warped gravitational drag that would have flung them down upontheir waiting enemies below. They seemed to be hanging in a well.Sime had a confused impression of piled-up bodies hurtling down--down.
Thereafter everything was normal again, and they were running down thenormal steps. Both had swords in their hands now, and within a hundredfeet they were upon the "gravitorser" gun. It was a rather cumbersomeweapon, comprising a great deal of electrical apparatus, with aD-solenoid surmounting, whose object was to twist the normal lines ofgravitation. It was intended for large-scale operations in the open;the few men remaining below had tried a rather risky experiment, forthey might have brought the whole fortress down upon them. Now theywere untangling themselves from the corpses that had flown at them asiron flies to a magnet.
* * * * *
Sime and Tolto struck them like a tempest. The light was good and thebattle short and sweet. Tolto was slowed up a little, but wasirresistible, nevertheless. There is nothing surprising about theseeming immunity of a reckless man in battle. He fights by instinct,taking short-cuts that are not as dangerous as they look because theenemy is not expecting them. So Sime and Tolto fought their way down,until there was no one able to oppose them.
Sime pressed a neuro-pistol into Tolto's hand, warned him to sweep thestairs with it, while he coursed around for some of the pellet bombs.He found them, and two of them closed that avenue of attack with amass of jumbled ruins.
Now they had a breathing spell. A combination of blind luck andfoolhardiness had given them temporary possession of this desertoutpost. That was their pawn in the game of life and death--the chanceto get back and hide among the millions in the cities of theindustrial belt. Certain routine precautions had to be taken. Theydestroyed the radio apparatus, picked a few days supply of food, threwa couple more bombs and made a search for means of transportation: forthere was a desert wilderness of four or five hundred miles to betraversed.
They discovered the egg-shaped hull of an enclosed levitator car inthe covered courtyard. It was distinguished by the orange and greenstripes which are the Martian army standard. Like all army equipment,it was in excellent condition. The hydrogen gages showed a full supplyof fuel.
"We're getting the breaks," Sime crowed to Tolto at they surfeitedthemselves with water before starting. He had covered his nakednesswith an ill-fitting fatigue suit.
"Yeh," Tolto agreed, referring to their numerous wounds with slyhumor: "lots of 'em."
* * * * *
Nevertheless, they felt pretty happy when the levitator screws took uptheir melancholy whine. The rocky valley floor dropped away, and thewindowless stone walls of the fortress slid down past them. Now theywere even with the top.
Through the ports they could see a group of their late adversaries onthe roof, standing in strained attitudes. Their immobility wasexplained a moment later by an electric blue spark from something inthe shadow of their bodies.
Instantly Sime, who was at the controls, threw her hard-a-port, dived,looped up. The first explosion of the tiny projectile tossed them uplike a monstrous wave, allowed them to drop sickeningly. The exhausttubes poured out a dense haze as Sime sought for distance. But theywere following him. He was five miles away when they finally got therange. The vessel was jarred as if it had hit a rock. One of theatomic pellets had exploded within a few feet of it. There was adismaying lurch. Sime picked himself up from the floor and dashed tothe controls.
"Everything's all right!" he shouted excitedly.
Tolto, however, was listening anxiously. There was a sharp cracklingat the stern, where, in a narrow space, the reaction motors providedthe forward motive power. In moments of excitement he referred tohimself in the third person. He did so now.
"Tolto's afraid that something's wrong! Smells hot, too!"
"Here, take the wheel!" Sime ordered. The explosions of the shellswere becoming less dangerous; they were getting too far away.
* * * * *
Sime burned his hand opening the narrow door. The paint was alreadyblistering off it. The trouble was immediately apparent. One of theintegrator chambers, in which atomic hydrogen was integrated to formatomic iron and calcium (sometimes called the Michelson effect), hadsprung a leak. The heat escaping into the little room was not thecomparatively negligible heat of burning hydrogen, but the cosmicenergy of matter in creation. Sime slammed the door. The radiatedlight was so intense that it stung even his hardened skin.
Looking through the rear range-finding periscope, he saw that theywere about twenty miles from the fort. They had ceased firing.
"Won't be long, Tolto," he said, taking over the controls himselfagain, "before our tail's going to drop off. Got to make time."
It was, in fact, about ten minutes when, without warning, their nosedropped.
"Tail's gone!" Sime announced.
Their momentum, under the destructive rate of speed they had beenmaking, was great, and as the levitators, with independent powersupply, still held them up, Sime continued to steer a course for thetwin cities of Tarog. He was aided by a light breeze, and the Sun wasnearing the western horizon by the time their rate of motion hadbecome negligible.
"Might at well land," Sime decided. "Conserve fuel. If we get afavorable wind to-morrow we can go up and drift with it."
But Tolto, who had been narrowly scanning the terrain, advisedcontinuing a little longer.
"I thought I saw a little smoke, a few miles ahead. Seems to be gonenow. But we're still drifting slow."
* * * * *
Sime searched the indicated spot in the ground glass of the forwardmagnifying periscope. After a few minutes he discovered a blackenedspot which might be the remains of a fire. It was surrounded by hugeblocks of orange rock, the igneous rock which is the outstandingfeature of the Martian desert landscape.
"Looks like he built the fire around there so nobody on the same levelwould see him," he hazarded. He set the altitude control to fiftyfeet. There was p
art of the globular skeleton of a desert hog in thefire; whoever had built it had dined most satisfyingly not longbefore, and as the fugitives looked their stomachs contractedpainfully.
"I could eat a whole one of them myself," Tolto said wistfully.
The urge to descend here was strong upon Sime too. He realized thatthe fire might have been made by some dangerous criminal--a fugitivefrom justice; but dangerous men are no novelty to the I. F. P. On theother hand, there was a possibility that it was just some politicaloffender, driven into the desert by persecution. Or a prospector. Atany rate, he would have food, or would know where it could beprocured.
They had drifted some hundreds of yards farther and the ground wasgetting constantly more broken, so the best time to land was as soonas possible. Slowly the little ship settled, scraped on a rock andarrested its slight forward motion, crunching solidly in the stonysoil.
"Take a neuro, Tolto," Sime advised. "Whoever's here, if he or theyare dangerous, we won't get close enough to touch 'em with a sword."
Tolto took the weapon without a word. They locked the door of theship. Men have been marooned for neglecting that little precaution.
They walked in a spiral course, making an ever-widening circle,looking sharply from left to right. Presently they came to the remainsof the fire. The ashes were hotter than the ground, proving that theyhad been recently made.
But nowhere was there any sign of men. They shouted, but only weirdechoes answered.
The ship was now out of sight, and solitude pressed upon them. Theyfelt an uneasy desire to get within comfortable constricting walls.
They found the ship without difficulty.
"Well, whoever it was has lammed," Sime concluded. "Tolto, you climbon top of that rock. Watch me. If you see anybody after me, let 'emhave it. I'm going to see if I can scare up a desert hog somewhere."
Neither had stirred from his place, however, before they were suddenlystricken to the ground. They felt the familiar sensation of cold andsuffocation--the paralysis caused by a diffused beam from aneuro-pistol. Tolto was a little slower to fall, but he only lasted asecond longer. They knew that someone was taking the weapons out oftheir helpless hands. Then life returned.
"Get up," said a languid voice back of them, "and let's have a look atthe looks of ye."