CHAPTER III
PRIMARY OBJECTIVES
The sphere pulsed again. But this time no flaming whip sprangfrom its surface. There was a single flash. For an instant Taylorcaught a glimpse of bestial eyes, looking angrily at him from thecenter of the flash. Then there was nothing. He was in thedarkness of a tunnel. Even the charred embers of the wooden trapdoor above him seemed dimmed by a cloud of dust.
The sphere had simply exploded.
Taylor had no time to analyze the situation. His hands gropedalong the side of the tunnel, the one Norden had used to enterthe plant on his spying expeditions. Taylor crawled slowly,feeling his way. It seemed eternity until at last he reached theend of the passage and felt the trap door overhead.
A minute later he rejoined the others, huddled in darknessoutside the gate.
"The searchlight went out," Masters explained. "Something wrongwith the power, I guess."
"I know what it was," Taylor said gruffly. He turned to thedisarmed sentry. "Has anyone come out of here since the factorystopped working?"
"Nobody but him, sir," the soldier said, jerking his thumb at thesobbing man huddled against Norden. "He said his name wasOrkins--Jim Orkins. He works in the warehouse. But you can't tellanything about the rest o' what he says. He just babbles, sir.Something about livin' lightnin' and balls of fire. He ain'tdrunk, sir, so he must be crazy."
"Help him get up," Taylor ordered. "Masters, you take charge ofNorden. We're going back to the car."
"Excuse me, sir," the sentry said, hesitantly. "But that'sagainst orders. I can't leave. I'm to guard this gate, sir."
"Your orders are canceled," the captain said.
"If I desert my post, it's court martial," the sentry explained."How do I know you aren't a spy? Captains don't go around makingprivates break the orders of the day. If you've got business inthe plant, why was I told to keep _everyone_ out? Why didn't theytell me to pass Captain Taylor? I got a duty here and I'll do itif it kills me. So help me, sir. Sergeant o' the guard!"
The echo of the sentry's bellow rattled against the bleak factorybuildings. A sphere bobbed up through the hole in the roof.Orkins opened his mouth to scream, but Norden clapped his handover the man's lips, choking him off.
"Quiet!" Taylor ordered hoarsely. He addressed the sentry: "Seethat thing? It means death to you, to all of us if it finds us.The sergeant of the guard, probably all of the other sentries aredead. Every workman in the plant is dead. Somehow we were missed.The searchlight power went off before they found this post, Isuppose. Now then, all of you follow Masters back to the car.I'll bring up the rear."
"I won't leave," the sentry said, stubbornly.
Masters stepped forward and put his pistol against the soldier'sback.
"You'll go," he said. "Maybe this ain't regulation, but neitherare the spheres."
The stubby little secret service man pushed the soldier ahead ofhim. The sentry marched with his hands in the air.
Drawing his own pistol, Taylor turned to Norden.
"Help Orkins to the car," he said.
Norden drew himself up stiffly.
"Go ahead and shoot," he said. "It'll save the firing squad sometrouble."
Taylor took one step forward. Norden faced him unflinchingly.Taylor's hand shot out, caught Norden's coat and threw him afterMasters.
"Don't leave me alone!" Orkins cried, crawling after Norden andclasping him about the legs. Norden kicked him aside.
"Keep moving!" Taylor ordered Norden, who had halted.
Norden did not move.
Taylor swung his fist. The blow connected and the officer caughtthe falling man, swung him over his shoulder, then turned to thecringing Orkins.
"If you don't want to be left here alone, follow us," he said.
Orkins suddenly regained his ability to use his muscles.
Masters, watching over his shoulder, chuckled. There was a faintwink of one eye visible in the moonlight.
"Kinda screwy, ain't he?" he said, jerking his head in Orkins'direction.
"I don't know that I blame him, much," Taylor said. "Look at theplant."
Over the roof and the smokestacks floated the yellowish-red ballof fire. Another sphere was emerging from the hole in the roof.
"What are they? A new kind of bomb?" Masters asked.
"Norden's bomb never had a chance. Compared with what actuallyhappened in there, a bomb would have been a picnic. There's not aliving person left in the whole place."
"Not a--hold on there, Cap! Do you know how many were working?"
"They're all dead," Taylor said. Briefly he outlined what he hadseen in the plant.
"Norden, the blankety-blank!" Masters swore. "Shooting's too goodfor him."
"This isn't connected with the war--at least not directly. It'ssomething else, Masters. What, I don't know yet, but I'mbeginning to think that it's something the human race has nevermet before. Those spheres have killed a couple of hundred workerswith bolts of energy--"
"I'm no scientist, captain."
"That's the best I can describe this force, Masters. I might callit heat-bolts, but it's probably partly electric and partly heat,not entirely either. You see, Masters, heat is energy, just likeelectricity and light. The energy these spheres shoot out is amixture of energies. We can imagine a spark of electricityshooting out and striking a man like a bolt of lightning, butit's hard to visualize heat behaving that way."
"Say, mister," the sentry interrupted, "my arms are gettingtired."
"Okay, buddy," Masters replied. "If I let you put your arms down,will you behave like a nice little boy?"
"I'll be a perfect angel," the sentry said, lowering his arms.
"You'll be an angel if you aren't, too," Masters added.
"What's your name, soldier?" Taylor asked the sentry.
"Private Pember, sir. Company A, 110th infantry--"
"All right, Private Pember, you can carry this fellow."
Taylor shifted the faintly stirring Norden to the shoulders ofthe soldier.
"If it will make you feel any easier, Pember," the captain wenton, "I can assure you that exigencies demanded your removal fromyour post. Your life was in danger and you could do no good byremaining there. In fact, there was nothing left to guard. Youcan do more good for your country by coming with us."
"Yes, sir," Pember said. "I guess you are right, captain."
"You're a good soldier, Pember," Taylor went on. "A situationlike this is unique. It demands use of individual initiative,rather than blind obedience to orders. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Pember said, adjusting the burden on his shoulder.
* * * * *
They reached the car.
A dozen of the orange-red globes now floated above the plant.They were circling slowly, in widening arcs, toward the limits ofthe factory grounds.
"Searching for human beings," Taylor decided, watching them.
Orkins clutched Taylor's coat tails.
"They're coming out!" he cried. "There's hell to pay."
Taylor took Orkins' arm and forced him down on the running boardof the car, where Norden already was coming out of his daze.
"Keep quiet!" Taylor ordered. "They'll discover us."
"They'll find us anyway!" Orkins said, frantic with fear. Hegroaned loudly.
"Okay. He asked for it," Masters said.
There was a splatting sound as Masters' fist landed. Masters madea face over a distasteful duty done and turned to Pember:
"Put them both in the car." He indicated Norden. "Here'shandcuffs. Lock them together."
Taylor and Masters watched the circling spheres. Suddenly onedarted down. From its pulsating body shot a flash of flame. Ahuman scream rent the air.
"It's the darnedest thing I ever saw," Masters said with ashudder. "Those fireballs squirt heat-electricity out at a guyand roast him!"
"Yes," Taylor said with a nod, "and that isn't all. Those spheresact as though they were alive. When that one went out abov
e theopening of the tunnel, I thought I saw a pair of eyes."
Masters studied the assertion, then spoke:
"Captain, I may look dumb, but I've been in the secret servicelong enough to be found out if I really am. I've a hunch youkilled that sphere."
"I've thought of that, but how could I? I didn't touch him."
"Maybe you don't have to touch 'em to kill 'em. We don't knowwhat they are, except they're different--"
"We don't know the real natures of anything, as far as thatgoes. Man's a mixture of chemicals, but that doesn't explain him.The spheres are a mixture of energies--we can observe that much,but it still doesn't explain them. Where are they from? Why didthey come here? What are their primary objectives?"
"Primary objectives? That's a military term, ain't it?"
"Partly military, and partly scientific. We know the secondaryobjective of the spheres. It's the same as man's or any otherliving creature. The spheres are alive and their objective is tokeep on living, but that isn't their primary motif. The primaryobjective is the difference between a good man and a bad one.Whatever is more important to a man than life itself is hisprimary objective."
"Life's pretty important," Masters said, solemnly.
"Yes, but life isn't everything. Any man, no matter how yellow ormean he is, has some ideal he's willing to die for--or at leasthe's willing to risk dying to attain. Look at Norden. He's hard,cold-blooded and he doesn't think twice about putting a bomb in aplant to wipe out scores of lives. He dared me to kill him,rather than help us. His code as a spy is his primary objective.Look at Pember. He must have been frightened by the spheres, butwe had to force him to leave his post. We've shown him that hisduty now is with us--he realizes that the spheres are theimmediate enemy of his country and he'll do his best fightingthem. And you and I have ideals--we know each other too well tolist them."
"I getcha so far, but what about Orkins?"
"The man's not afraid of death, but afraid of the unknown. Menlike him commit suicide rather than face reality. He wantssecurity. He's afraid of uncertainty. He lives in an unreal,imaginary world and when uncertainty, which is reality, intrudes,he is completely lost."
"You make me feel sorry for the poor devil."
"That's because you understand why he's funky. Primary objectivesmake men do what they do--but understanding Orkins doesn't solveour problem."
"No. What are the spheres? Are they alive? If so, they must wantsomething. What do they want?"
"A conquest of the human race?" Taylor pondered. "Maybe. But itisn't likely. They can't gain much by conquering us. It wouldn'tdo man any good to stage a conquest of earthworms and swordfish,since neither could pay taxes. The spheres are as different fromman as man from an angle-worm. Are we a menace to the spheres?Apparently the only time we really menace them is when we crawlinto a hole like a rabbit--maybe there's something in that thatwill help us, but I don't think that's why they kill us. Are we anuisance? If so, why? Are we a food? There is energy in sunlightand chemicals in the human body. A creature of energy would feedon something like sunlight, not chemicals. His menu would beelectric wires, storage batteries--"
"Great Scott, Captain!" Masters interrupted. "Let's get away fromthis car. There's a battery in it--food for the spheres!"
Masters looked nervously up at the circling globes. Taylor, deepin thought, did not stir. Instead, he continued his speculation:
"Maybe they kill us for sport."
He was thinking of small boys torturing frogs; of Roman emperorsat the circus; of sportsmen exterminating game; of the mobwatching the guillotine on the streets of Paris. It wasZarathustra who said that when gazing at tragedies, bull fightsand crucifixions, man has felt his happiest; and when maninvented hell, he made hell his heaven on earth. Couldn't this bea characteristic of all life? Couldn't the spheres be cruel andruthless, too?
Man, the mighty hunter, had become the prey.
A sphere detached itself from the group and circled toward thecar.
"I guess you're right, Masters," Taylor decided as he watched thespheres. "We'd better move."