Read Online Fletcher Pratt by Alien Planet - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alien Planet
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other bobbing heads behind him.
The winter day had already run into indigo shadows and silence when I made it, stumbling, tired and famished. Barely pausing to kick loose my skis, I flung myself through the door into the kitchen, crying, "Did they get here yet?"
Ashembe, working on the bench at one side of the room, looked up in cool astonishment. "They are persons who perform a visit?" he inquired.
"Yes," I snapped. "The police. They're on their way. Here any minute now. You can't wait ten minutes. You must go right away, or we'll have trouble."
He gazed at me for a minute, doubtless meditating on the curiosity of a world where it is necessary for science to evade the law, and then, with wordless efficiency, began to gather up his materials and carry them to the space ship. Trembling with exhaustion and excitement, I sank into a chair, but only for a moment. Ashembe had carried only a portion of his materials out. The chlorophyll trays, for instance, were still in their place behind the stove. He would need all the help I could give him. Fortunately, the coffee-pot was full, and a long drink of the steaming liquid made a new man of me. I began to help my guest carry his impedimenta to the clearing where the cometary car stood, pointed toward the heavens like a projectile for some monstrous piece of artillery. We formed a division of labor in which my part was to bring things to Ashembe, who met me at the door of the space ship and carried them back through the tortuous rooms to be stored in the center.
I have no very clear memory of how many trips I accomplished up the path beaten in the snow under the silent stars. My weariness had left me and I was febrile with excitement. It was like a dream; the shack, the toil up the path among the clutching branches, and Ashembe at the end, meeting me in the moonlike radiance that flowed from the interior of the car and carrying things back in with swift movements, like an efficient machine.
It had to end sometime, of course. As I came down the path on one of my return trips to the shack, I heard the crunch of feet in the snow, and saw the glow of a flashlight snapped on and heard voices.
"Nobody here," said someone. "Try around the back, Ed."
I stopped, listening.
"Here's a path," called a voice. "Maybe they've gone this way. They haven't gone long. The lights still are on." Abruptly the flashlight ran up the path toward me, and I moved quickly enough. The light caught my arm for a second, held it, and then switched it full into my face. A yell.
"Stop! Hands up! This way, Jerry, I see him!"
I turned toward the car, running. "Stop!" "Where is he?" I heard behind. Then, past my head there was the vicious wheen of a bullet, and the pistol report sounded like a cannon.
The door of the car was right ahead, with Ashembe's bent form outlined against the interior light. Without even thinking, I dived for it; there was another report as I dived and a bullet smacked against the steely side of the car. I was inside, striking my knee a savage blow as I went through the low opening. Footsteps sounded behind me, more shouts and a clang of metal as Ashembe lifted the door to slide it into place. I writhed to hands and knees, turned and saw that someone had gripped' the door from outside and was trying to keep Ashembe from closing it, but even as I reached out to help him, my visitor let go his hold, fumbled at his belt and produced the destructive flash.
"No!" I cried, but too late. The beam of intense violet radiance leaped from the screen, striking the bent figure on the outside fairly in the middle. I heard a low "Augh!" of agony and the figure collapsed in the snow as the door slid into place with a clang.
Without even a glance at me, Ashembe produced the welding flash and began to weld the edges of the door indissolubly into place. The realization that I was a prisoner in the cometary car and an accessory to a murder, suddenly struck me, and all at once I felt the accumulated
The winter day had already run into indigo shadows and silence when I made it, stumbling, tired and famished. Barely pausing to kick loose my skis, I flung myself through the door into the kitchen, crying, "Did they get here yet?"
Ashembe, working on the bench at one side of the room, looked up in cool astonishment. "They are persons who perform a visit?" he inquired.
"Yes," I snapped. "The police. They're on their way. Here any minute now. You can't wait ten minutes. You must go right away, or we'll have trouble."
He gazed at me for a minute, doubtless meditating on the curiosity of a world where it is necessary for science to evade the law, and then, with wordless efficiency, began to gather up his materials and carry them to the space ship. Trembling with exhaustion and excitement, I sank into a chair, but only for a moment. Ashembe had carried only a portion of his materials out. The chlorophyll trays, for instance, were still in their place behind the stove. He would need all the help I could give him. Fortunately, the coffee-pot was full, and a long drink of the steaming liquid made a new man of me. I began to help my guest carry his impedimenta to the clearing where the cometary car stood, pointed toward the heavens like a projectile for some monstrous piece of artillery. We formed a division of labor in which my part was to bring things to Ashembe, who met me at the door of the space ship and carried them back through the tortuous rooms to be stored in the center.
I have no very clear memory of how many trips I accomplished up the path beaten in the snow under the silent stars. My weariness had left me and I was febrile with excitement. It was like a dream; the shack, the toil up the path among the clutching branches, and Ashembe at the end, meeting me in the moonlike radiance that flowed from the interior of the car and carrying things back in with swift movements, like an efficient machine.
It had to end sometime, of course. As I came down the path on one of my return trips to the shack, I heard the crunch of feet in the snow, and saw the glow of a flashlight snapped on and heard voices.
"Nobody here," said someone. "Try around the back, Ed."
I stopped, listening.
"Here's a path," called a voice. "Maybe they've gone this way. They haven't gone long. The lights still are on." Abruptly the flashlight ran up the path toward me, and I moved quickly enough. The light caught my arm for a second, held it, and then switched it full into my face. A yell.
"Stop! Hands up! This way, Jerry, I see him!"
I turned toward the car, running. "Stop!" "Where is he?" I heard behind. Then, past my head there was the vicious wheen of a bullet, and the pistol report sounded like a cannon.
The door of the car was right ahead, with Ashembe's bent form outlined against the interior light. Without even thinking, I dived for it; there was another report as I dived and a bullet smacked against the steely side of the car. I was inside, striking my knee a savage blow as I went through the low opening. Footsteps sounded behind me, more shouts and a clang of metal as Ashembe lifted the door to slide it into place. I writhed to hands and knees, turned and saw that someone had gripped' the door from outside and was trying to keep Ashembe from closing it, but even as I reached out to help him, my visitor let go his hold, fumbled at his belt and produced the destructive flash.
"No!" I cried, but too late. The beam of intense violet radiance leaped from the screen, striking the bent figure on the outside fairly in the middle. I heard a low "Augh!" of agony and the figure collapsed in the snow as the door slid into place with a clang.
Without even a glance at me, Ashembe produced the welding flash and began to weld the edges of the door indissolubly into place. The realization that I was a prisoner in the cometary car and an accessory to a murder, suddenly struck me, and all at once I felt the accumulated
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