The Trail of the Red Diamonds (Stories from the Golden Age) by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard [Hubbard, L. Ron]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Adventure, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781592127931
Publisher: Galaxy Press LLC.
Published: 2010-09-22T10:00:00+00:00

Lee Chang lay at ease upon his bed, dusty boots carelessly soiling the silken cover, opium pipe sending its stench throughout the hut. His narrow, dried face was rapt with dreaming. He was visualizing himself in a gaudy uniform, standing with his boot on Tsing the Fool’s neck, saying, “Off with his head!”

It was a lovely dream, but an ugly memory jarred it and made it fade. Two sleek pursuit planes were still hot in the sands. One pilot lived, but that was a minor consolation. The plane was the thing.

Lee Chang propped himself on his elbow and fumbled thoughtfully with his nose. His gray tunic was unbuttoned at the throat and some stray bits of food were scattered on the pocket flaps. He scratched his bald head and probed under his arm for fleas. A cruel light flickered in his close-set eyes, a wicked leer was stamped on his drooping mouth.

He rolled and lit another pellet, inhaling deeply. Then he sprawled at his ease again and dreamed that he had a boot on the neck of one called Wind-Gone-Mad. “Off with his head!” bawled Lee Chang.

The thought so enraged him that he sat bolt upright and slammed his pipe against the wall, breaking it. He glared at the pieces and then leaped to his feet. “May the fiends of hell rip him asunder! May the dogs gnaw on his putrid flesh!”

The guards at the door looked in, startled. Lee Chang flung himself upon them, kicking them. “Out of my sight! Fools. You stood there not an hour ago and let him escape! Fools! You let him steal our two planes! Get out!”

The two guards ran away, glad to leave their night’s vigil. Lee Chang threw himself down upon his bed again and fumbled for his opium pipe. But the pipe was broken and his anger mounted until his head felt like a caldron of hell broth.

He rolled over and faced the wall, muttering filth and scratching his fleas. After a while he realized that the wind no longer entered the room and the burning lamp was low.

He sat up suddenly and stayed there, stiff with surprise. He gripped the bedpost to support himself.

Wind-Gone-Mad sat serenely across the room fondling Lee Chang’s sword. The door was shut and the blinds were closed. The smoky yellow light from the lamp glittered on the goggles. The dragon looked like a river of blood running down the helmet. The mouth smiled with half a smile.

“I think,” said Wind-Gone-Mad, “that I had better kill you.”

Lee Chang turned from yellow to gray and looked at the shining sword which rested nakedly in Wind-Gone-Mad’s hands.

“And if you open your mouth to yell, I will,” added Wind-Gone-Mad, quietly. “Didn’t you receive my warning?”

“Ah . . . ah . . . yes, yes.”

“Then why did you give orders to shoot at me?”

“I . . . it . . . it was all a mistake.”

“Yes, so I see. You know, my better judgment keeps telling me that you should die.

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