War-Gods of the Void by Henry Kuttner

Author:Henry Kuttner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Start Publishing LLC
Published: 2020-09-28T00:00:00+00:00

IV

Vanning sped after the others, who had waited for him. After that it was a desperate hare-and-hounds chase, with Lysla leading them through the labyrinth of the city, her slender legs flying.

"You okay?" Vanning gasped as he ran shoulder to shoulder with the girl for a moment.

Her white teeth were fixed in her lower lip. "I ... I shot at that Swamja’s eyes. Blinded him. It’s the only way ... ugh! "

"Where now?" Hobbs panted, his white hair rippling with the wind of his racing. Sanderson echoed the question.

"Lysla? Can we—"

"I don’t know. We’ve been heading north. Never been there before. Can’t go south—gates are always guarded."

Hobbs panted, "There are only two ways out. The way we came in—guarded, eh?—and another gate at the north."

"We’ll try it," Vanning said. "Unless we can get to that space-ship—"

Zeeth wriggled free. "Put me down. I’m all right now. The space-ship—that’s guarded too. But there aren’t any soldiers at the north gate. I don’t know why."

Through the city a rising tumult was growing. Lights were blazing here and there, but the party kept to the shadows. Twice they flattened themselves against walls as Swamja hurried past. Luck was with them; but how long it would last there was no way of knowing.

Suddenly a great voice boomed out, carrying to every corner of the city. It seemed to come from the dome high above.

"Attention! No slaves will be permitted on the streets unless accompanied by a Swamja master! No quarter is to be given to the fugitives who blinded a guard! Capture them alive if possible—they must serve as an example. But show them no quarter!"

Lysla’s face had paled. Vanning glanced at her, but said nothing. Things were bad enough as they were. Only Sanderson chuckled sardonically.

"Nice going, Vanning. How about Callahan now?"

The detective grunted. Zeeth panted, "I would—have preferred a—peaceful death. I do not—like torture."

Vanning felt a pang of sympathy for the fat little native. But he couldn’t help him. Escape was the only chance.

"Here," Lysla gasped, pausing in the shadow of a tall building. "These outer houses are all deserted. There’s the gate."

Across a dim expanse of bare soil it loomed, a wall of metal rising high above their heads. Vanning stared.

"No guards. Maybe it’s locked. Still ... I’m going out there. If there are any Swamja, they’ll jump me. Then run like hell. Don’t try to help."

Without waiting for an answer he sprinted across the clearing. At the door he paused, staring around. Nothing stirred. He heard nothing but the distant tumult from within the city. Looking back, he could see the faint elfin-lights glowing here and there, and the shining tube rising to the dome—the tube that was pouring out the North-Fever virus into the atmosphere of tortured, enslaved Venus.

And these were the gods of Venus, Vanning thought bitterly. Devils, rather!

He turned to the door. The locks were in plain sight, and yielded after a minute or two to his trained hands. The door swung open automatically.

Beyond was an empty, lighted tunnel, stretching bare and silent for perhaps fifty yards.

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