Harry Harrison: Deathworld

“That’s all very fine,” Jason said. “But what will the guards be doing all this time?”

“Shooting at us and each other. We will take advantage of the confusion to get aboard.”

This answer did nothing to settle Jason’s mind, but he let it slide for the moment. “All right — say we do get aboard. Why don’t they just prevent take-off until we have been dragged out and stood against a wall?”

Kerk spared him a contemptuous glance before he returned his eyes to the road. “I said the ship was the Pride of Darkhan . If you had studied this system at all, you would know what that means. Cassylia and Darkhan are sister planets and rivals in every way. It has been less than two centuries since they fought an intra-system war that almost destroyed both of them. Now they exist in an armed-to-the-teeth neutrality that neither dare violate. The moment we set foot aboard the ship we are on Darkhan territory. There is no extradition agreement between the planets. Cassylia may want us — but not badly enough to start another war.”

That was all the explanation there was time for. Kerk swung the car out of the rush of traffic and onto a bridge marked Official Cars Only . Jason had a feeling of nakedness as they rolled under the harsh port lights towards the guarded gate ahead.

It was closed.

Another car approached the gate from the inside and Kerk slowed their car to a crawl. One of the guards talked to the driver of the car inside the port, then waved to the gate attendant. The barrier gate began to swing inwards and Kerk jammed down on the accelerator.

Everything happened at once. The turbine howled, the spinning tires screeched on the road and the car crashed open the gate. Jason had a vanishing glimpse of the open-mouthed guards, then they were skidding around the corner of a building. A few shots popped after them, but none came close.

Driving with one hand, Kerk reached under the dash and pulled out a gun that was the twin of the monster strapped to his arm. “Use this instead of your own,” he said. “Rocket-propelled explosive slugs. Make a great bang. Don’t bother shooting at anyone — I’ll take care of that. Just stir up a little action and make them keep their distance. Like this.”

He fired a single, snap-shot out the side window and passed the gun to Jason almost before the slug hit. An empty truck blew up with a roar, raining pieces on the cars around and sending their drivers fleeing in panic.

After that it was a nightmare ride through a madhouse. Kerk drove with an apparent contempt for violent death. Other cars followed them and were lost in wheel-raising turns. They careened almost the full length of the field, leaving a trail of smoking chaos.

Then the pursuit was all behind them and the only thing ahead was the slim spire of the Pride of Darkhan .

The Pride was surrounded by a strong wire fence as suited the begrudged status of her planetary origin. The gate was closed and guarded by soldiers with leveled guns, waiting for a shot at the approaching car. Kerk made no attempt to come near them. Instead he fed the last reserves of power to the car and headed for the fence. “Cover your face,” he shouted.

Jason put his arms in front of his head just as they hit.

Torn metal screamed, the fence buckled, wrapped itself around the car, but did not break. Jason flew off the seat and into the padded dash. By the time Kerk had the warped door open, he realized that the ride was over. Kerk must have seen the spin of his eyeballs because he didn’t talk, just pulled Jason out and threw him onto the hood of the ruined car.

“Climb over the buckled wire and make a run for the ship,” he shouted.

If there was any doubt what he meant, he set Jason an example of fine roadwork. It was inconceivable that someone of his bulk could run so fast, yet he did. He moved more like a charging tank than a man. Jason shook the fog from his head and worked up some speed himself. Nevertheless, he was barely halfway to the ship when Kerk hit the gangway. It was already unhooked from the ship, but the shocked attendants stopped rolling it away as the big man bounded up the steps.

At the top he turned and fired at the soldiers who were charging through the open gate. They dropped, crawled, and returned his fire. Very few shot at Jason’s running form.

The scene in front of Jason cranked over in slow motion. Kerk standing at the top of the ramp, coolly returning the fire that splashed all about. He could have found safety in an instant through the open port behind him. The only reason he stayed there was to cover Jason.

“Thanks — “ Jason managed to gasp as he made the last few steps up the gangway, jumped the gap and collapsed inside the ship.

“You’re perfectly welcome,” Kerk said as he joined him, waving his gun to cool it off.

A grim-jawed ship’s officer stood back out of range of fire from the ground and looked them both up and down. “And just what is going on here?” he growled.

Kerk tested the barrel with a wet thumb, then let the gun slide back into its holster. “We are law-abiding citizens of a different system who have committed no criminal acts. The savages of Cassylia are too barbarous for civilized company. Therefore we are going to Darkhan — here are our tickets — in whose sovereign territory I believe we are at this moment.” This last was added for the benefit of the Cassylian officer who had just stumbled to the top of the gangway and was raising his gun.

The soldier couldn’t be blamed. He saw these badly wanted criminals getting away. Aboard a Darkhan ship as well. Anger got the best of him and he brought his gun up.

“Come out of there, you scum. You’re not escaping that easily. Come out slow with your hands up or I’ll blast you — “

It was a frozen moment of time that stretched and stretched without breaking. The pistol covered Kerk and Jason. Neither of them attempted to reach for their own guns.

The gun twitched a bit as the ship’s officer moved, then steadied back on the two men. The Darkhan spaceman hadn’t gone far, just a pace across the lock. This was enough to bring him next to a red box set flush with the wall. With a single, swift gesture he flipped up the cover and poised his thumb over the button inside. When he smiled his lips peeled back to show all of his teeth. He had made up his mind, and it was the arrogance of the Cassylian officer that had been the deciding factor.

“Fire a single shot into Darkhan territory and I press this button,” he shouted. “And you know what this button does — every one of your ships has them as well. Commit a hostile act against this ship and someone will press a button. Every control rod will be blown out of the ship’s pile at that instant and half your filthy city will go up in the explosion.” His smile was chiseled on his face and there was no doubt he would do what he said. “Go ahead — fire. I think I would enjoy pressing this.”

The take-off siren was hooting now, the close lock light blinking an angry message from the bridge. Like four actors in a grim drama they faced each other an instant more.

Then the Cassylian officer, growling with unvoicable frustrated anger, turned and leaped back to the steps.

“All passengers board ship. Forty-five seconds to take-off. Clear the port.” The ship’s officer slammed shut the cover of the box and locked it as he talked. There was barely time to make the acceleration couches before the Pride of Darkhan cleared ground.