Джеффри Лорд - Looters Of Tharn

One thing was certain-this dimension could hardly be Tharn. The neuters of Tharn had served well at keeping all the complex machinery functioning. They had known more of magnetism and gravity than Home Dimension scientists could have imagined.

But the neuters had not had creative, curious, exploring minds. There was nothing of interest for them beyond what they already knew well. They had not discovered anything for many centuries, nor had they any need or wish to do so.

When Blade was among them, they certainly had not discovered anything that might have gone into making the war machine.

So he had solved one problem. But he still faced another-how to approach that machine which squatted grim and gleaming, so tantalizingly close at hand.

If a target carried metal-or at least some nonorganic material-it presumably was not an animal and might be dangerous to the machine. Then the purple ray was called into play. What it did to what it hit, Blade still didn't know. But he remembered those skeletons bleaching in the grass. Had they been struck down by this same purple ray, to lie there until the flesh was rotted and weathered away from the bones?

Perhaps. Well, the machine would find that Richard Blade was a tougher opponent than those poor helpless savages! Blade mentally shook his fist at the war machine. The effort cleared his head. His mind leaped ahead again, mapping out a strategy.

To get any closer to the machine would risk detection. But what if he was detected as nothing but a moving mass of organic matter, nothing but a large animal for all the machine could tell? The machine seemed to be programmed to fire at anything that might be an intelligent and therefore dangerous being. But it might not fire at all on something that merely registered as an animal. Or it might at least hold its fire until Blade was too close to be hit.

That meant stripping himself of all his equipment. He didn't much like going up against the machine naked and barehanded. But if his reasoning was correct, he had no choice. The first belt he had thrown was the only item of gear that wasn't metal or metal-studded. It was unfortunate that the people of this dimension hadn't learned to work their plastic into effective sword blades as had been done in Tharn.

Blade laughed at himself. It was unfortunate that the people of his dimension hadn't provided him with a good many things that would have made him feel better about tackling the machine, starting with that antitank rocket. But regretting their absence wasn't going to conjure them out of the ground or out of thin air.

Moving slowly and carefully, staying low to the ground, Blade stripped off his equipment. He piled it on the grass beside him, marking the place by pulling out several clumps of grass. It might be handy to be able to find the gear again in a hurry. The war machines weren't necessarily the only enemies roaming in this land.

Still moving slowly and carefully, he crawled away from the gear, occasionally sticking his head up through the long grass. The war machine showed no sign of moving. But something new was happening in the city beyond. Several columns of thick black smoke were coiling greasily up into the air, rising as high as the tops of the tallest towers before the wind broke them up and spread them out. Blade froze for a minute, watching and listening. He thought he could hear occasional hissing and crackling sounds, followed by the crash of heavy weights falling.

Blade would have given a good deal to be able to stand up and get a better look at what was going on in the city. Something new and perhaps deadly was at work there. But he couldn't risk being detected prematurely by the war machine. He went on crawling.

Finally he reached his intended position. He was less than thirty yards from the machine. That was a distance he could cover in a matter of seconds even in the long grass. The ray-tube was pointed a hundred and eighty degrees away from him. It would take time for it to swing back toward him. Hopefully it would take more time than it would take him to reach the platform on the rear of the machine. He could see some kind of hatch there.

If his guess was right, he didn't need to worry about the purple ray. But he might be wrong, and then he might be dead if he made too easy a target of himself.

Blade took a deep breath, sprang to his feet, and ran toward the machine.

Blade hurled himself through the grass in great leaping bounds. Once grass tangled around his ankles and he staggered and nearly went sprawling on his face. Several times thorny branches raked his calves, leaving oozing scratches. His heart pounded with the exertion, but even more it pounded with the tension of waiting. Would the turret swing in time, and if it did, would the purple ray lance out at him?

He was barely halfway to the machine when he saw that the turret was turning faster than he had expected. The tube would be bearing on him in seconds. His throat went dry at the thought, but his legs went on churning and his mind went right on working. If death was only moments away, he would die on his feet, fighting and thinking to the last.

Clank-clank-clank-screeeeeech. The tube was rising into firing position. Thirty yards to go. Twenty-five. Twenty. The tube was bearing directly on him now. More lights flashed on, and the purple lens at the end of the tube glowed like a neon sign.

Nothing happened.

In a moment of wild joy Blade realized that he had guessed right. The machine would not, could not fire at something that did not register as a possible enemy.

If he had been able to spare the breath, he would have let out a sigh of relief. But he didn't have the breath, or time to stop and catch it. He lengthened his stride, arms and legs pumping furiously. The machine might not fire at him, but it might still fly or walk away.

Fifteen yards.

Ten yards.

Five yards.

The machine's legs flexed, and it let out an ear-torturing howl like a dozen fire sirens all going at once. But before the machine could move, Blade reached the platform in the rear. He grasped the railing and vaulted over, landing on hands and knees with a clang and a thump. It vibrated and quivered under the impact of Blade's two hundred and ten pounds.

The turret continued to turn until the ray-tube was pointing directly backward, over the platform and only a foot or so above Blade's head. Blade flattened himself against the hatch as the tube sank down. With an audible click it reached the bottom of its slot and stopped. The siren died away. Apparently something in the machine had concluded that the danger was past or that the ray would be no good against it. Blade hoped it was the first and raised his head to look about him.

The smoke was rising from nearly a dozen places in the city now. The individual clouds merged into a vast sullen gray black pall that was spreading ahead of the wind. The hissing noises were louder now and almost continuous. So was the crashing and rumbling of great weights falling. Something powerful and destructive was at work in the city.

It certainly wasn't the other two war machines. They still stood motionless where they had been, their turrets turning slowly. They seemed to be paying no attention to anything that was going on in the city. They also seemed to be ignoring what had just climbed aboard their companion.

Blade turned toward the hatch. It would not be a bad idea to get away from here for a while. Something much more powerful and destructive than the purple ray was at work in the city. Blade couldn't help feeling that it would be wise to be ready to leave in a hurry if the something turned his way. The best and fastest way to leave would be aboard this machine. If he could learn to run it, he could put a good many miles between himself and whatever was tearing the ruins apart, then study the machine at his leisure.