Short Fiction · Warrior of Two Worlds (2/6) (2/2)

“Why waste?” spoke up another of the Council, the narrow man, whose name was Stribakar. “This war has begun only recently, but it will last forever. At least, so I see it.”

“Now that Yandro is here, it shall be brought to an end,” pronounced Elonie, her green eyes fixed on me. “Will it please Yandro to see something of this war?”

“Since you make it so much my business, I would be pleased indeed,” I told her, and Sporr rose from his seat. He went to an oblong of white translucency, on a side wall of the stage within sight of us all. It was about twice a man’s height by thrice a man’s width.

“The screen of a televiso,” he said to me, and touched a dial beside it. The screen lighted, with confused blurrings of color and movement. He dialed quickly and knowingly.

“We see an underground passage,” he said. “And those who dispute therein.”

I could see a gloomy stretch of earth-walled passage, lighted from somewhere by a yellow radiance that became dim and brown toward one end. I had no way of judging the true size of the object whose image I saw, until I made out stealthy movement at the darker end. Sporr’s dialing made parts of the scene clear, and the movement proved to be that of a human figure, prone and partially concealed in a depression of the floor. That figure was no more than half-height, by which I estimated the passage itself to be some fifteen or eighteen feet to the top of its rough-dug ceiling.

“A scout,” breathed Doriza beside me, pointing to the prone man. “See, Yandro, he wears earth-colored cloth over his armor, and his arms and face are smeared with mud. The thing he holds is a ray-digger, whereby he burrows his way forward to the enemy.

“Enemy in the same tunnel with him?” I asked.

“Right.” I saw her blond head dip. “Our tunnel broke into one of theirs, by accident or plan. At point of contact, both forces are cautious, fearing ambush. Now⁠—”

She said no more. The scout on the screen was apparently creeping forward through the solid soil of the floor, only the top of his head and shoulders showing. Once or twice I saw the object he employed, a baton-like tool of black metal with a bulb or ball at one end. It emitted faint sparks and shudders of light, which melted or vaporized the earth ahead of him.

“See! He senses danger near.”

Indeed he did; for he paused, and took something else from his belt⁠—a disk the size of his palm. This he held close to his face, studying it.

“Televiso,” explained Doriza. “It has limited power of identifying both sound and sight near at hand. The scout knows that enemy approach.”

Still working his dials, Sporr made the scene slide along. The bright end of the tunnel came into view for some yards. All who watched leaned forward excitedly.

“Newcomers,” breathed Gederr, and added his familiar curse, “ill be their fate! They have one of those vibration-shields.”

“Warn the advance party,” bade Stribakar, and Sporr, turning from his dials, muttered quickly into a speaking tube.

The situation that thus interested and activated my companions was hard to make out. I saw only an indistinct fuzziness in a sort of niche against the tunnel wall. Doriza pointed.

“A vibration-shield,” she told me. “The Newcomers have such things. Some machine or other power stirs the molecules of air to such a new tempo as to create a plane of force. No missile, no light even, can penetrate. They are sheltered and all but indistinguishable. See, they go forward.”

The eddying cloud moved along the tunnel. We could see the scout again. He tucked away his disk and employed the ray-digger. Quickly he sank deeper and out of sight.

“Burrowing in,” pronounced Gederr. “If he succeeds in what he hopes⁠—”

“Spare him, you mean?” asked Stribakar, and Gederr nodded.

The eddying blotch that marked the power-shield of the invaders came closer. I saw it approach the place where the scout had burrowed away. It paused there, as if those hidden by it were investigating. Then⁠—

“Brave fellow!” cried Elonie, like someone at an exciting sports event or play.

The scout had dug himself a little channel beneath the floor. Now he burst into view, beyond and behind the invaders. He held a pistol-weapon in each hand. One spat sparks⁠—some sort of pellets or projectiles. The other was plainly a web-spinner like the one that first had bound me, and this he poised ready for use.

His projectiles seemed to find an opening behind the power-shield. A human form lurched into view⁠—a glowing, writhing form, like a man of red-hot metal. An agonized leap, a shudder, and the body fell, abruptly falling into clinkered bits. A moment later, the power-shield disturbance vanished, and there stood revealed two others, clad like the scout in earth-colored jumper over armor.

“He got the power-shield man!” exulted Elonie. She was on her feet, applauding wildly. In the same second, I saw the scout point and discharge his spinner-gun. Whirling coils of cord struck, wound and tangled the two foremen. The scout’s bearded mouth opened, as if he yelled in exultation.

But that was his last cry and action. Another eddy, larger and swifter, suddenly came into the picture behind him. From it sprang a pale shaft of light. The scout went down on his face as if in sudden prayer. He moved no more.

Toward the dark end, Dondromogon figures seemed to move. There was a great spatter of spark-pellets. But the eddy of the new power-shield had scurried forward, enveloping and vanishing the two bound men. It retired as quickly. No movement, no figure, except those of the dead scout and the charred remains of the man he had killed.

“There will be little action here for some time to come,” announced Gederr. “Switch it off, Sporr.”

Sporr did so. I shook myself, as if to rid my body of unpleasant dampness and chill.

“Exciting,” I said. “Unusual. I suppose this goes on all the time.”

“Not all the time,” Elonie demurred. “As Yandro has heard, the battle-areas are limited, in the region of the poles. There is much maneuvering, but not too much contact. This incident was an order.”

“Order?” I repeated.

“We sent the man you saw, knowing that you would want this televiso view of how we made war.”

I snorted and faced her angrily. “You sent him to his death? So that I could see a show? You value life very cheaply, Elonie.”