Read Online One and Wonder by Evan Filipek - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Evan Filipek
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sent a shiver up my spine. “It’s time for you to think of your own skin, now. Because it’s clear that you made error when you butchered that man and girl. You aren't safe here—or anywhere.”
The little Squaredealer must have heard that something in Cameron's voice, for his sallow face turned a sickly yellow-gray. His perspiring arm gestured again, uneasily, to hold his gunmen back. He blinked apprehensively.
“I'll be back,” Cameron said. “But I advise you not to follow.”
He dropped into the ravine, up beyond the dam.
Lord hesitated for a long second, pale and breathless. “Get after him,” he screamed at last. “Shoot him in the legs.”
He didn't lead the pursuit, however, and his men weren't eager. That same something in Cameron's voice must have made them doubt that it was really wise to follow. They ran uncertainly along the rim of the little gorge, firing a few wild shots.
Ahead of them, something flashed. Its terrible brightness made us duck and shield our eyes, even in the full daylight. The detonation came instantly—a single, terrific report. A green tree, beside the ravine, shattered into smoking, whistling fragments.
Lord and his two men followed no farther. As soon as the burning splinters stopped falling, they scrambled up off their faces and hastily retired.
“Unprintable leather merchant!” gasped the little Squaredealer. “He'll regret this.” He made a rather fearful gesture toward the life-craft. “On board!” he shouted. “We're getting out of here.”
VII
We tumbled through the valves, and Lord ordered Captain Doyle to blast away at full thrust. Before Doyle could reach his bridge, however, the signal officer shouted down the ladder-well:
“Captain Doyle! I've just got contact with the Great Director. Mr. Hudd is on the screen. He wants a full report, at once, sir.”
The earth’s intervening mass had cut off microwave transmission since we dropped over the bulge of it before we landed; now, however, the planet's rotation had brought the flagship back above the horizon. We climbed hurriedly into the little television room.
Gigantic on the screen, Hudd boomed his question:
“What's the story, Lord?”
“A crisis, Mr. Hudd!” Lord looked damp with sweat, and his voice turned shrill. “We're in danger. I request permission to blast off at once, and make our full report at space.”
“What's the crisis?”
Lord gulped uncomfortably. “Your smart feather merchant got away.”
Hudd's great, blue-jowled face was furrowed with sudden concern.
“Then I'll take your full report, Mr. Lord,” he said decisively. “Right now.”
“But Cameron has a weapon,” Lord protested desperately. “Something that strikes like lightning—”
“Then the entire task force may be in peril,” Hudd cut in. “Now let's have it—at once.”
Lord talked rapidly, while sweat burst out in great bright drops on his narrow face and soaked dark blotches into his uniform. Hudd listened gravely, now and then turning to Doyle or me with a sharp question.
It was Doyle who told him how Lord and the two guards had shot the couple named Hawkins. Hudd's heavy, sagging jaw hardened at the news. When the report was finished, he must have started his habitual nervous drumming—his hands were hidden below the screen, but the speaker brought a worried rapping.
“You made two blunders.” His small, troubled eyes peered accusingly at Lord. “You let Cameron get away with the vital information I sent you for. And you killed those people before they had a chance to talk. I'm afraid you have gravely compromised our objectives, Victor—and your own future.”
All his swagger gone, Lord twisted and cringed before the steady eyes of Hudd. Still perspiring, he seemed to fawn and cower like a punished dog, as the loud, aggressive voice of his master continued:
“We must take bold, immediate action, Victor, to restore the situation.”
“Right, Mr. Hudd,” Lord said eagerly. “Shall we
The little Squaredealer must have heard that something in Cameron's voice, for his sallow face turned a sickly yellow-gray. His perspiring arm gestured again, uneasily, to hold his gunmen back. He blinked apprehensively.
“I'll be back,” Cameron said. “But I advise you not to follow.”
He dropped into the ravine, up beyond the dam.
Lord hesitated for a long second, pale and breathless. “Get after him,” he screamed at last. “Shoot him in the legs.”
He didn't lead the pursuit, however, and his men weren't eager. That same something in Cameron's voice must have made them doubt that it was really wise to follow. They ran uncertainly along the rim of the little gorge, firing a few wild shots.
Ahead of them, something flashed. Its terrible brightness made us duck and shield our eyes, even in the full daylight. The detonation came instantly—a single, terrific report. A green tree, beside the ravine, shattered into smoking, whistling fragments.
Lord and his two men followed no farther. As soon as the burning splinters stopped falling, they scrambled up off their faces and hastily retired.
“Unprintable leather merchant!” gasped the little Squaredealer. “He'll regret this.” He made a rather fearful gesture toward the life-craft. “On board!” he shouted. “We're getting out of here.”
VII
We tumbled through the valves, and Lord ordered Captain Doyle to blast away at full thrust. Before Doyle could reach his bridge, however, the signal officer shouted down the ladder-well:
“Captain Doyle! I've just got contact with the Great Director. Mr. Hudd is on the screen. He wants a full report, at once, sir.”
The earth’s intervening mass had cut off microwave transmission since we dropped over the bulge of it before we landed; now, however, the planet's rotation had brought the flagship back above the horizon. We climbed hurriedly into the little television room.
Gigantic on the screen, Hudd boomed his question:
“What's the story, Lord?”
“A crisis, Mr. Hudd!” Lord looked damp with sweat, and his voice turned shrill. “We're in danger. I request permission to blast off at once, and make our full report at space.”
“What's the crisis?”
Lord gulped uncomfortably. “Your smart feather merchant got away.”
Hudd's great, blue-jowled face was furrowed with sudden concern.
“Then I'll take your full report, Mr. Lord,” he said decisively. “Right now.”
“But Cameron has a weapon,” Lord protested desperately. “Something that strikes like lightning—”
“Then the entire task force may be in peril,” Hudd cut in. “Now let's have it—at once.”
Lord talked rapidly, while sweat burst out in great bright drops on his narrow face and soaked dark blotches into his uniform. Hudd listened gravely, now and then turning to Doyle or me with a sharp question.
It was Doyle who told him how Lord and the two guards had shot the couple named Hawkins. Hudd's heavy, sagging jaw hardened at the news. When the report was finished, he must have started his habitual nervous drumming—his hands were hidden below the screen, but the speaker brought a worried rapping.
“You made two blunders.” His small, troubled eyes peered accusingly at Lord. “You let Cameron get away with the vital information I sent you for. And you killed those people before they had a chance to talk. I'm afraid you have gravely compromised our objectives, Victor—and your own future.”
All his swagger gone, Lord twisted and cringed before the steady eyes of Hudd. Still perspiring, he seemed to fawn and cower like a punished dog, as the loud, aggressive voice of his master continued:
“We must take bold, immediate action, Victor, to restore the situation.”
“Right, Mr. Hudd,” Lord said eagerly. “Shall we
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