The Moon Children by Jack Williamson

The Moon Children by Jack Williamson

Author:Jack Williamson [Williamson, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 0425024326
Publisher: Berkley Medallion
Published: 1973-10-02T00:00:00+00:00


SIRENS were screaming outside by then. Gort came catfooting down the hall, the alert squad behind him. He handcuffed Tom, scooped up the tetrahedron and herded us all outside to wait for Thorsen, who was just pulling up in his staff car.

“Erik!” Tom grinned and started toward the car, holding up his cuffed wrists. “I’m glad you got here. Your people are about to muck us up. Let me explain—” “Stand back, Hood.” Savagely angry and visibly ill, Thorsen beckoned Gort to the car. “Hold this man under double guard,” he rapped. “Check out your notion that he’s spying for our space enemies. Charge him with treason.”

“My friend!” Tom whined bitterly. “My old moon companion—”

“Lock that up in the headquarters safe.” Thorsen’s bony, bloodless hand trembled toward the tetrahedron. “Nobody is to touch it without written permission from me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You kids.” Thorsen’s dull stare swept Nick and Kyrie. “You’ve played too many games. I want your beer-can drive developed into a missile propulsion system. Beginning tomorrow.”

“Father!” Kyrie pointed at the long red scar across Nick’s ribs. “Don’t you see he’s hurt?”

“Tape him up,” Thorsen snapped. “Shop space will be provided. You can requisition what you need. But you’ll be working under guard and without that lump of moon grit.”

Standing hand in hand, tanning slowly in the sunlight, they said nothing. Thorsen barked at his driver and the staff car departed. Gort licked his lips and prodded Tom into his own car. Guy growled and started after him.

“No, Guy,” Kyrie whispered. “They’d only kill you.”

Guy whimpered and blundered away alone. I walked with Nick and Kyrie back to the nursery. Silent and despondent, they refused a meal Carolina heated for them in the kitchen and soon slipped away to sleep.

A space snake buzzed the mesa that night. I didn’t see it. I was reading a novel in bed, trying not to think about the children and the terminal. I heard its screaming passage, felt the bone-deep chill of heat drained away, gulped at the bitter aftertaste in my mouth. The windows rattled. My reading lamp flickered and went out.

I ran to the door barefoot. Outside was black confusion. Automobiles had died. Men were cursing and running in the dark. Here and there a flashlight flickered. Random gunshots rattled.

Powerline transformers had gone out and the mesa was dark for an hour. When the lights came on I went down to the nursery. Nick and Kyrie were sleeping undisturbed. I talked to a security man who had seen the diving snake.

“It wasn’t like the pictures,” he said. “You couldn’t see the shape in the dark. Just that jagged crystal in the heart of it. And the plumes reaching out like blue wings.” He shivered. “Just one glimpse as it roared overhead—and nearly froze me to death.”

I returned to bed without looking into Guy’s room. Marko woke me early next morning, breathless with the news. Guy was gone, along with Tom and the tetrahedron.



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