Read Online The Five Gold Bands by Jack Vance - Free Book Online Page B

in front of the wheel. The Eagle blew his cheeks out, pulled back his narrow head. “Clout him, Paddy,” yelled Fay.
    The Eagle turned his head just in time to meet Paddy’s fist. In a great thrash of rickety arms and legs the Eagle sprawled over backwards into the road.
    “Now we’ve really done it,” said Paddy ruefully. “It’s long years picking oakum for this.”
    “Shut up—jump on that bike. Let’s get moving,” panted Fay.
    “I don’t know how to run the thing,” Paddy grumbled. “Run it! We’ll coast! Let’s go!”
    Paddy threw his leg over the narrow seat and Fay jumped on behind. He turned it downhill, threw levers till he found the brake. With a lurch the motorcycle started.
    “Wheel” yelled Fay in Paddy’s ear. “This is like the roller coaster at Santa Cruz.”
    Paddy stared big-eyed down the hill and the wind whipped water from his eyes.
    “I don’t know how to stop her!” yelled Paddy. “I can’t remember where the brake is!” The rush of wind tore the words from his lips. He pulled frantically at unfamiliar knobs, levers, handles and at last chanced on a pedal that seemed to have some effect.
    “Watch that side-road,” screamed Fay in his ear. “It goes down to the city!”
    Paddy leaned and the motorcycle screeched around a party of pedestrians, who shouted raucous insults at their backs. And now to Paddy’s horror the brake pedal had lost its effect.
    “Slow down, Paddy,” cried Fay. “For heaven’s sake; you reckless fool—”
    “I wish I could,” gritted Paddy. “It’s my dearest wish.”
    “Throw in the drive!” She leaned past him, pointed. There—try that knob!”
    Paddy pulled the lever a notch toward him. There was a loud whine and the motorcycle slowed so rapidly as almost to toss them off. It wobbled to a halt. Paddy put out his leg.
    “Get off,” hissed Fay. There’s that little path, and right over that ridge of rock is our boat.”
    Sweeee-eeeee-eeee-eeee! From far above them a nerve-tingling sound, urgent and shrill.
    “Here comes the other,” said Paddy. “Swooping like a panther.”
    “Run,” said Fay. “Over the ridge. We’ve got to get to our ship and fast.”
    SWEEE-EEEEE-EEEEE!
    Too late,” said Paddy. “He’d shoot us while we run. Come here with me. Watch this now.”
    He pulled her off the road, down behind a rock.
    The sound of the motor increased in volume but dropped in pitch as the officer approached slowly, cautiously. He trundled past the boulder.
    “Boo!” yelled Paddy, jumping out. The Eagle squawked. Paddy heaved at the handle bars, the motorcycle left the path, bounded, bumped down a steep ravine. The last they saw was the Eagle frantically trying to steer the machine around outcrops and boulders, his crest tense, elbows wide, legs spraddled out into the air.
    There was a crash, then silence.
    Paddy sighed. Fay said, “You’re not so smart. You wouldn’t believe me when I said the point was not on the cliff but at the base.”
    Paddy was disposed to argue. “How could it be? There was the Sacred Sign just as the sheet said.”
    “Nonsense,” said Fay. “You’ll see.”
    Their boat had not been touched. They crawled in, sealed the port, Fay climbed into the pilot’s seat. “You keep watch.”
    She lifted the boat, slid it off the table, let it sink under the gas, which showed luminous yellow through the observation window.
    The color is from suspended dust,” said Fay off-handedly. The gas is dense and the dust seeks the level of its own specific gravity and there it floats forever. A little deeper the gas will be clear—or so I’ve been told.”
    “What’s the composition of the gas?” asked Paddy. “Or is it known?”
    “It’s neon kryptonite.”
    “That’s a strange pairing,” remarked Paddy.
    “It’s a strange gas,” replied Fay tartly.
    Now she let the boat fall. The sun-drenched dust disappeared and they found themselves looking out at a marvelous new landscape. It was like nothing else