Injury
: MAIN STORY: The Alembic Plot
St. Thomas, Monday, 17 June 2571 CE
Captain Mike Odeon cursed in angry frustration as he climbed out of his
command van into a late fall New Pennsylvania evening and signalled his
Special Operations team forward. They were too late.
Well, too late to catch them in the act, he amended silently. This
looked like one of the hit-and-run attacks the so-called Brothers of
Freedom special
the Brothers would be long gone. But they would catch the bastards
who'd attacked this Royal Enforcement Service convalescent hospital,
sooner or later. Motioning his second-in-command to him, Odeon gave
the routine orders. "Check for anything the attackers might have left.
Odds are you'll only find bodies, but do your best while I talk to the
locals. Call me on Channel One if you do find anything."
"Yes, sir." Odeon's sergeant led the other three team members into the
building; Odeon himself looked around, and was pleased to find he knew
one of the locals.
He waved. "Rascal! Over here!"
The local returned his wave, jogged over, and saluted. "Mike! I mean,
'Captain Odeon, sir.'"
"Mike's fine," Odeon said. "You haven't touched anything?"
"Huh-uh. Saw the marks the Brothers'd burned into a couple of the
walls inside, and backed off right away to call in the Royals." Rascal
spat. "Damn Brothers! Didn't expect Special Ops, though."
"You'll get SO any time the Brothers are involved, from now on," Odeon
said. "That came straight from His Majesty not five minutes after we
got word they'd hit a hospital. It doesn't look too bad from here,
though."
"From here, no. But, Mike . . . I hope your men have stronger
stomachs than mine turned out to be."
Odeon scowled. "It's that bad?" Rascal Anderson had been in
Enforcement for almost fifteen years, nearly as long as Odeon himself;
it would take more than the aftermath of ordinary violence to make him
sick.
"Worse," Anderson said. "Mike, it looked like . . . like a cross
between a battlefield and a mass third-stage interrogation."
"Dear God." Odeon bowed his head in a brief silent prayer for the
victims, then looked up. "We'll find the bastards who did this, and
make sure--"
His beltcom interrupted him. "Sir, we've found a survivor. ID says
Captain Joan Cortin, Royal Enforcement. Boris is working on her, but
he says she'll need a lot more help than he can give."
"She'll get it," Odeon snapped. Anderson was already signalling
urgently for the medics, who'd been waiting to bring out what everyone
was certain would be only dead bodies. "I'm on my way. Set for homer."
"On homer, sir." The sergeant's voice was replaced by a series of
tones, increasing in pitch and speed as Odeon more than half-ran into
the hospital and through the corridors.
The scenes he passed were as bad as Rascal had suggested, and Odeon's
stomach needed stern control to prevent rebellion. Doctors, nurses,
patients, the service staff--all had been bound, then brutally
murdered. The stench of gutted bodies was enough, even without the
blood and corpses, to stagger anyone.
It wasn't long until he reached his men. Two of them were checking for
other survivors while Boris and Sergeant Vincent knelt over the inert
form that had to be Joan Cortin. Vincent was giving her Last Rites
while Boris tended to her physical needs, his posture evidence of his
intense concentration, and Odeon thanked God again that the St. Dmitri
exchange troop he'd drawn for his team was so damn competent. He'd
love to take his whole team to that world for a bit, he thought
irrelevantly. He'd worked with a Dmitrian team once, here on St.
Thomas, and thought everyone in SO should have that experience.
"How is she?" he asked, joining the medic. If the ID said "Joan
Cortin," he'd have to accept that evidence; he certainly couldn't
identify the woman he knew so well in this bloody, mangled body.
"Not good, Captain." Boris' English had a heavy Dmitrian accent, but
Odeon had no trouble understanding him. "Badly beaten, raped--more
than once, I believe--and she appears to have a spinal injury. The
Brothers of course burned their mark into her hands, but that is
minor." He looked up with a frown. "I regret having to tell you,
Captain. She was your protego, was she not?"
"Yes, and she's still my friend." Odeon stood, making way for the
other medics who promptly began working on the unconscious woman. So
the Brothers had burned their circled-triangle mark into Joanie's
hands, had they? That didn't happen often, but he was no more
surprised than Boris had been that they'd given her that distinction.
Not even all Special Ops officers rated that mark of the Brothers'
special hatred, and why Joanie did was something he couldn't
guess--she'd never been on an anti-Brotherhood operation, that he knew
of--but they'd taken a special dislike to her for some reason none had
divulged even under third-stage interrogation, calling her "the damned
Enforcement bitch" in a tone Odeon himself reserved for those who had
begun the Final War. Maybe they hated her just because she was the
only active-duty female Enforcement officer. At any rate, they had
marked her--and she was the first he knew about to survive the torture
that accompanied the mark's infliction.
He watched the medics work, his thoughts going back. It'd started
. . . what, twelve years ago? Yes, that sounded about right. A small
town here in New Pennsylvania--and not too far away, if he remembered
clearly. He'd been on light duty, wounded in his first fight with the
Brotherhood and counting himself lucky to be alive. It had left him
with a scar across his right cheek, cutting into his mouth and chin,
but it had left five others dead, three disabled.
The scar had upset the young men he was interviewing; most had stared
for a few seconds, then looked away. Well, they hadn't been very
promising anyway. Recruiting trips to out-of-the-way small towns like
that Boalsburg were mostly for show rather than out of any real
expectation of finding good Enforcement candidates.
The last applicant's folder had brought a smile. Joan Cortin . . .
Not many women applied for Enforcement, and even fewer qualified. He
remembered thinking it probably hadn't been a serious application; more
than likely, she just wanted to meet the "romantic" Enforcement
officer. Odeon hadn't minded; he'd been rather flattered, if anything.
He'd opened the folder and scanned it, intending to make it look good
before he turned her down.
There'd been only one catch. Grades, psychoprofile, and physical stats
said she did qualify--and at well above officer-cadet minimums. He'd
wondered if she knew.
She hadn't. Her application had been the ruse he'd guessed; she
admitted that immediately, without either staring at or avoiding his
scar. She thought it added to his appeal, which hadn't hurt his
feelings at all. It'd been rather enjoyable convincing her that she
really was Enforcement-officer material, and he'd taken real pleasure
in waiting until she was leaving--and her former schoolmates could
hear--to tell her when she'd be picked up by an Enforcement trooper
who'd drive her to the Royal Academy.
He'd been there for her graduation, too, proud that one of his recruits
had been at the top of the class, commissioned First Lieutenant for
that achievement. He'd given her her first salute, then staggered as
sixty kilos of enthusiastic female officer jumped him for a
congratulatory kiss.
Remembering that kiss--and the night that followed, the others
later--Mike Odeon rubbed the scar crossing his lips. It hurt to see
medics working over her, hear them sounding pessimistic. Her injuries
seemed to be even more severe than Boris had said at first, and she'd
been weak to begin with, just recuperating from one of the unnamed
plagues that had devastated the Kingdom Systems during the Final War.
The plagues were no longer common, hadn't been for over a century;
Joanie had simply had the bad luck to pursue a gang of horse thieves
into a still-contaminated area.
The medics were putting her onto a litter, careful to support her back.
As they picked up the litter, her eyes flickered open and she looked in
Odeon's direction. "Mike?"
A gesture stopped the medics. "What is it, Joanie?"
"Don't let 'em kick me out . . . while I can't fight back. I've gotta
. . . get the bastards who did this . . . Mike, promise . . ."
"I promise, Joanie. I'll do everything I can, you know that." He
waved the medics on, looking after them, then turned to his second.
"Find anything useful, Sergeant?"
"Afraid not, sir. They're too damn good at covering up. We won't have
a thing, unless Captain Cortin's able to give us some descriptions."
"All right. Call in a specialist squad from New Denver; they may be
able to find some kind of evidence. Fingerprints, footprints,
identifiable bullets--damn, but I wish we had what the prewars had!"
"Able to identify a culprit from a speck of blood or a hair?" Sergeant
Vincent laughed bitterly. "Hell, if we could do that, we'd have the
Brothers under control in six months."
"Yeah." Odeon tried to hide his frustrtion. "No use playing what-if,
though; we could do that forever. Let's get back to HQ."
Silently, respecting their leader's mood, the Special Operations team
returned to their command van for the copter-lift back to their
Middletown headquarters. It wasn't until they were landing that anyone
spoke. "Captain?"
"What is it, Boris?"
"I spoke with the physician, sir. Captain Cortin will be stabilized at
the local clinic, then sent to New Denver for surgery. You are due for
leave, are you not?"
"Yeah, and I intend to take advantage of it. Two years' worth of
accumulated leave ought to give me time to help her stay in."
* * * * *
Leave arrangements weren't difficult to make. Special Operations teams
tended to stay together, but casualties were high; anyone could be
replaced quickly. By mid-morning the next day Odeon had finished
briefing his temporary replacement, and by noon he'd used his Special
Ops identification to get aboard a plane to New Denver.
He'd only flown twice before, with the exception of command-van
copter-lifts, so he slept lightly when he did sleep, then took
advantage of a rest stop to work the kinks of too much sitting out
before the second leg. Back aboard, he listened to the engines and
tried to doze off again. The throbbing roar they made was monotonous
enough to be dulling, but too loud to be soothing . . .
Rather to his surprise, the second landing woke him up. He hadn't
realized he'd managed to sleep again, and he grinned at himself as he
exited the aircraft.
The air here smelled as fresh and clean as the newly-fallen snow, so
good it'd be a shame to waste it. Odeon waved away the SO car that
pulled up, walking to the terminal instead. By the time he'd made
arrangements for a room in Visiting Officers' Quarters, his luggage,
the single small bag that, with what a command van held, was enough for
an SO man for half a month, was waiting. He claimed it, made his way
through shift-change traffic to the VOQ, and checked in.
He went to his assigned room, intending to shower and get a few hours'
rest. Boris had said Joanie would be brought here once she was
stabilized; that could be today, if the doctors decided to fly her in,
or up to a week if they decided she could tolerate surface travel.
He'd just gotten the shower temperature right, though, when he heard
the four sharp knocks on his door that meant official business. With a
muttered "Damn," he turned the water off, wrapped a towel around his
waist, and went to the door. Couldn't a man even get a shower without
being interrupted? "What is it?" he asked the young man in Medical
Corps green when he opened the door.
The medtech looked at the clipboard he held. "Captain Michael Patrick
Odeon of Royal Enforcement Service Special Operations?"
"Serial 263819. Yes." Odeon swore to himself. Formal identification
meant the leave he'd planned to use helping Joanie was over, in favor
of some special duty.
The tech extended the clipboard. "Captain Cortin has asked that you be
the one to represent her interests while she is under treatment, sir.
Would you sign here, please?"
Chuckling, Odeon took the clipboard and scanned the form it held. He
should have expected this; trust Joanie to think of his leave time,
have him assigned to what he would be doing anyway. Then he frowned at
the length-of-assignment block: Indefinite. That was bad, tended to
indicate Boris' field diagnosis of spinal injury was right. He found
the signature block, wrote his name in the small precise script he was
continually kidded about. "Is there any word on her condition or when
she'll be here?"
"She will be on a special medevac flight from Middletown, sir, due in
at 1815. I was told nothing of her condition. By your leave, sir?"
"Dismissed, Tech." Odeon closed the door and went to finish his
interrupted shower. She wasn't due in for another ten hours; he had
time to clean up, nap, and eat before he went in to speak to her
doctors. By then, they'd know exactly what was wrong with her, and
have some idea of what could be done for her.
* * * * *
Two hours before the medevac plane was due to land, Odeon was in one of
New Denver Municipal Hospital's briefing rooms. There were half a
dozen nurses, twice that many technicians, and several doctors in
addition to the one behind the lectern.
By the time the briefing was over an hour later, the only things Odeon
was sure of were that he hadn't understood more than one word in three,
and that the doctor in charge of Joanie's case was as competent as she
was attractive. Bernette Egan, she'd introduced herself--a
neurosurgeon.
He went up to her as the others began leaving. "One moment please, Dr.
Egan, if I may."
She tilted her head to one side, crisp gray curls contrasting with skin
the color of rich chocolate as she looked up at him with a smile. "You
would like a summary in plain English, Captain. Correct?"
Odeon found himself returning her smile. "Yes, ma'am, if you wouldn't
mind. You'd tell Joanie--Captain Cortin--and she's made me her
advocate."
"Indefinitely, yes. I saw the form. Come to the coffee shop, where we
can be comfortable, and I'll be happy to tell you everything I can."
"As you wish, Doctor. I'm buying."
"As you wish, Captain." Egan smiled again, gestured him out of the
briefing room. "The coffee shop isn't far."
The short walk didn't give them time to talk, but Odeon had understood
one key item: Joanie had gotten treatment quickly enough that none of
her injuries now threatened her life. Some were serious, yes--maybe
damn serious, especially the spinal injury--but she would live!
Mike Odeon didn't understand why he felt so strongly about Joan Cortin
and her welfare; all he knew was that he did. He'd recruited her,
sure, but he'd recruited others; he'd slept with her, but he'd slept
with others; he'd led the team that rescued her, but he'd done that
before, too. Maybe it was because the other incidents had all involved
different people, maybe it was because none had reacted as positively
to him on first meeting . . . he didn't try to analyze it. He was in
Special Operations; analysis was for Intelligence. He simply accepted
facts as he found them.
Odeon let Egan choose pastries while he drew coffee and paid the
cashier. Once they found an empty table and settled themselves, he
said, "Okay, Doctor. Tell me."
"To begin with, most of her injuries are what I understand you
Enforcement people call minor. Fractured skull, three broken ribs,
assorted cuts, burns, and bruises." Egan frowned. "However, her
spinal injury is serious even by your standards, and . . . Captain,
did she plan to have children?"
'Did,' not 'does,' Odeon thought grimly. "Yes, Doctor." Until he'd
met Joanie, Odeon hadn't minded that the red crossed daggers of the SO
patch on his sleeve meant he was sterile; his parents had both had
plague-derivatives that made it inevitable, and it was a fate he shared
with almost a third of the Kingdom Systems' population. That patch
also meant he was one of those trusted to protect his Kingdom and the
Systems from their most dangerous enemies. No one able to have
children was allowed into SO since the average life expectancy was less
than a year . . . "As soon as she found a suitable--and fertile--man.
What was it, the rape?"
"Multiple rapes, and not all with . . . natural equipment." Egan
looked at the grim, scar-faced man across from her, uncomfortably aware
that he was both upset and a trained killer. That she knew he was a
devout man as well was little help; Church and state both 'overlooked'
acts from Enforcement people that they would condemn in anyone else.
It seemed reasonable to assume Odeon and Cortin had been lovers, that
if he'd been fertile he would have been the father of her children.
"Captain, it pains me to have to tell you this, but she was so badly
injured by them that the doctors in Middletown were forced to do an
emergency hysterectomy, simply to save her life."
"Does she know?" Odeon kept his voice level, but with effort.
"Not yet. She should be stronger before she is given any more shocks."
Odeon nodded; that made good sense. "What about her spine?"
Egan breathed a silent sigh of relief at the change of subject. "You
know it has what are called discs?" At his nod, she went on. "Good.
According to the medevac doctor, a sharp blow to her back has caused
one of those discs to swell and 'float,' or pop out of position from
time to time. The swelling may subside, but if it does not--which is
most likely--Captain Cortin will be in constant pain. Either way, when
the disc pops, she will be in agony to match anything a third-stage
Inquisitor can do."
"I gathered from the briefing that you plan to try surgery. What're
her odds?"
"Not good," Egan admitted. "I can't be sure until I examine her
myself, but we have had little success in correcting a floating disc.
There is an alternative procedure, spinal fusion--essentially welding
part of the spine together so the disc can't pop. She will still hurt,
and it will limit her mobility somewhat; the only advantage is that
she'll be spared the agony of the disc moving out of place."
"That sounds like grounds for a disability discharge." Odeon sipped
his coffee and made a face, trying to lighten his mood a bit. He
wasn't that fond of coffee to begin with, and this certainly wasn't the
best he'd had. "Do hospital coffee shops have to boil this stuff?"
"You get used to it," Egan said. "Yes, that is grounds for discharge,
and at full pay. I will have to examine her myself, as I said, but if
Dr. Franklin says it's a floating disc, that's exactly what it is.
I'll send her discharge recommendation in to Enforcement HQ first thing
tomorrow."
"No, Doctor, you'll give it to me for endorsement." Odeon saw her
beginning objection, and raised a hand to forestall it. "She doesn't
want a discharge; my endorsement will request a waiver. And she won't
want her mobility limited, since it would hamper her in her work. So
no spinal fusion, we'll just have to hope that other operation you
mentioned works."
Egan frowned, concern for her patient overcoming her apprehension.
"You're a harsh man, Captain Odeon, even harsher than I expected from
one of your profession. Do you know what you're condemning her to?"
"I know what you just told me, yes. But I also know the last thing she
asked me was to help her stay in. I am her advocate, Doctor; until
you release her, my word goes."
"Unfortunately, it does," Egan said with a sigh. "But then she can
countermand your orders."
Odeon half-bowed in his seat. "That's right, Doctor, and I hope to God
she does. I don't want to see her hurting, but she asked me not to let
her get kicked out while she couldn't defend herself. I'm doing for
her what she would do for me if our positions were reversed."
Egan looked at him for several moments, silent, then she nodded. She
was beginning to understand, she thought. His grim harshness was real,
but it concealed equally real concern for the woman he represented.
"As you say, Captain. Be sure Captain Cortin will have the best care I
can give her."
This time Odeon stood to bow and answer, formally. "My thanks, Doctor
Egan. When may I see her?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," Egan replied. "I have her scheduled for
surgery--whichever procedure you decided on--at 0800. I assure you she
will be given only those drugs which are absolutely necessary."
"My thanks again, Doctor." Odeon gave her a sketchy salute. "If
you'll excuse me, I have to pick up some forms." At her nod he left,
grateful for her last assurance. It was almost a hundred years since
the Final War--not the nuclear holocaust the prewars had dreaded; there
had been only a few atomics used, and most of those were relatively
clean neutron bombs. The primary weapons had been biological; it was
their devastation that had wiped out over fifty percent of the
Kingdoms' population, and the passage of time hadn't removed the
remainder's sudden overwhelming aversion to "unnatural substances"
imposed on the body. Drugs were used, sparingly, by doctors--and not
so sparingly by Enforcement Service Inquisitors.
* * * * *
The next morning Odeon woke at dawn as he usually did, but instead of
rising at once, he rolled onto his back and laced hands behind his head.
Joanie. She hadn't been beautiful when he first met her, so she never
had been. That suited him well enough; he didn't like the prewar
standard of beauty that still prevailed in many places. Beauties were
too fragile, didn't have the strength of a real woman the way Joanie
did. Tall skinniness was fine in a paid-woman, but Joanie's
compactness was better. Stronger and more suitable for an Enforcement
officer or a mother, anyway-- He pushed that thought aside. Joanie
might be able to stay in Enforcement, but she'd never be a mother.
He tried to remember her as she had been, 165 centimeters and maybe 59
kilos, mostly muscle, of vigorous womanhood. But it'd hurt to see her
lying broken and bloody on the hospital floor, her short dark hair
stiff with drying blood; he couldn't get that image out of his mind, so
he made himself study it instead, trying to bring out anything he
hadn't consciously noted then.
There wasn't much. The hospital hadn't been all that different from
other Brothers of Freedom raid points, except in being a hospital, its
occupants even more helpless than most. The only oddity was that they
hadn't made sure of the woman they'd marked. Possibly Rascal and his
locals had arrived before they were able to.
Odeon grinned wolfishly at that thought. Joanie was alive, and she
wanted revenge. That kind of personal motivation wasn't really
necessary, but in going after terrorists like the Brothers it didn't
hurt; some of the things necessary in anti-terrorist sweeps were hard
to stomach. And the Brothers were the worst of the terrorists, as well
as the most wide-spread; they had units in every one of the Systems,
while most groups were restricted to one or two.
He was getting off the subject, though, he told himself sternly. He was
here to protect Joanie's interests, not worry about the Brothers. And
if he was going to do that, it might be a good idea to get up.
He glanced at the clock, then almost tangled himself in the sheets in
his hurry to get out of bed. It was almost six-thirty! If he didn't
get a move on, he'd be late for seven o'clock Mass!
He made it, though with barely a minute to spare, and he found peace as
usual in the familiar liturgy. There were still times he wished his
call had been to the priesthood--he'd been raised in a monastery, by
the White Fathers, after his parents died--but for the most part, he no
longer missed the life too badly. The Fathers had comforted him when
it became clear that his vocation was military rather than religious;
enforcing civil order, they'd reminded him, was as important to human
welfare as ministering to spiritual needs. And when he'd been
commissioned, directly into Special Operations, several of them had
been at the Academy to congratulate him.
As he went forward to take Communion, Odeon found his thoughts going to
Joanie. He shouldn't be thinking about her, not now . . . but he
couldn't concentrate on the Sacrament properly, even as he accepted and
swallowed the Host. Well, the Fathers had taught him that if he
couldn't, despite his best efforts, maybe he wasn't supposed to--and it
wouldn't be the first time something had resolved itself this way.
Returning to his place in the small chapel, he said a brief prayer to
the Blessed Virgin as the Compassionate Mother for guidance. Surely,
she would help the only officer of her sex in this dangerous vocation!
* * * * *
He was feeling better when he entered Egan's office half an hour after
Mass was over. He hadn't found a solution, but he had become sure that
one would make itself known; he'd just have to find it.
Egan wasn't there; she was already in surgery. But she'd left word
that he could use her office while he waited, and he appreciated her
thoughtfulness. An Enforcement officer in a civilian hospital waiting
room tended to make patients and visitors nervous; a Special Ops
officer tended to make the staff nervous as well, which bothered him.
And a desk was far more convenient for doing paperwork than a lap.
Odeon sighed as he picked up the form she'd left for him. It was her
recommendation for Joanie's discharge, as promised, and it made no
bones about the seriousness of her injuries, or about the resulting
sterility and constant pain.
Frowning, Odeon read it again--and realized that here was at least part
of his solution. Joanie was sterile, which meant she was eligible for
Special Ops!
Granted that he didn't like either the fact or what had caused it, she
was eligible, and he was positive that--given the cause--she would want
to apply, which could very well give her a bit of an edge staying in.
And he was equally positive that she'd be as outstanding in Special Ops
as she had been in regular Enforcement work. He endorsed the discharge
recommendation with a combined request, for waiver and transfer to
Special Ops, then decided to tackle some paperwork he'd gotten behind
on.
It was several hours before Egan returned to her office, obviously
fatigued, and collapsed into an armchair. Despite his anxiety, Odeon
took time to get her a cup of coffee and let her drink some before he
asked tensely, "How did it go?"
"Better than I expected," Egan said, taking her desk back. "The
operation was as successful as any I've performed." She raised a hand
cautioningly. "That doesn't mean it's good; it isn't. It's just as
good as it can be. She'll be in the pain I told you about, and the
disc is still subject to popping, but it could've been far worse."
Egan rubbed her eyes before going on. "Otherwise, I would say she
will have a complete recovery, with no more than the usual scars.
Except that she refused skin grafts for the brands on her hands."
"Mmm." Odeon frowned, thought for a moment, then smiled slowly. "I
hadn't expected that, but it fits."
"Fits how?" Egan asked in near-exasperation. "I cannot for the life of
me imagine why she would want to live with such reminders, as well as
the pain."
"Not live with them," Odeon corrected. "You're thinking like a doctor,
of course, but she's not one--she's an Enforcement officer who wants
revenge. I'd say she intends to kill Brothers with them. And I'm
trying to get her in a position to do just that."
Egan stared at him, appalled by the pleased anticipation in his soft
voice and pale eyes. She'd known all her life that Enforcement
people--especially those in Special Operations--were killers, but this
was the first time that knowledge had actually frightened her. "Yes
. . . is there anything else?"
"Only one." Odeon retrieved his briefcase, preparing to leave. He
hadn't intended to disturb the doctor, but if she had any acquaintance
with Enforcement at all, and was that easily upset, she should have
known better than to ask such a question. "When can I see her?"
"Tomorrow morning, if you want to speak to her instead of just see her.
You know the kind of equipment that will be hooked up to her?"
Odeon chuckled. "It's been hooked up to me more than once, Doctor. It
doesn't bother me." It was enough for now to know his Joanie was doing
as well as humanly possible. "Thank you for your efforts."
To meet Lawrence Shannon: 1a. Raid Master
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In the hall Clio glanced around her wildly, her bosom heaving, eyes darting here and there, seeking even the narrowest avenue of escape. Before she could act, however, her body was clamped inflexibly, as though in a vise, and she struggled, motion... In The Atmosphere Factory
For two days I waited there for Kantos Kan, but as he did not come I started off on foot in a northwesterly direction toward a point where he had told me lay the nearest waterway. My only food consisted of vegetable milk from the plants which gav... In The Cellars
At last, what with being tired and cold, and the uneasiness that possessed me, I resolved to take a walk through the house; first calling in at the study, for a glass of brandy to warm me. This, I did, and, while there, I examined the door, carefull... In The City Ways
And that night, unknown and unsuspected, Graham, dressed in the costume of an inferior wind-vane official keeping holiday, and accompanied by Asano in Labour Company canvas, surveyed the city through which he had wandered when it was veiled in d... In The Coach And Horses
Now in order clearly to understand what had happened in the inn, it is necessary to go back to the moment when Mr. Marvel first came into view of Mr. Huxter's window. At that precise moment Mr. Cuss and Mr. Bunting were in the parlour. They wer... In The Dingey Of The Lady Vain
I DO not propose to add anything to what has already been written concerning the loss of the "Lady Vain." As everyone knows, she collided with a derelict when ten days out from Callao. The longboat, with seven of the crew, was picked up eighteen ... In The Diving Suits
There was no doubt that the steamer was coming after the submarine. Several observations Captain Weston made confirmed this, and he reported the fact to Mr. Swift. "Well, we'll change our plans, then," said the inventor. "Instead of sailing on... In The Emporium
"So last January, with the beginning of a snowstorm in the air about me--and if it settled on me it would betray me!--weary, cold, painful, inexpressibly wretched, and still but half convinced of my invisible quality, I began this new life to whic... In The Food Room
Restlessly, Jim paced back and forth in the narrow dank cell. At the doorway the two guards opened and closed their jaws, regularly, rhythmically, about sixty to the minute. Hours, the two men calculated, they had been there. And still the clashin... In The Fulness Of Time
The streets were as light as noonday, and Constans found no difficulty in keeping the dying figure in sight. But, run as he would, he could not gain a yard. "Arcadia House," muttered Constans, under his breath, as he noticed the direction taken... In The Harness Room
"Mother, can I have three dollars?" asked Eloise the next morning. "Were you thinking of a new riding hat, dear? I do wish you had it to wear this afternoon. Yours is shabby, certainly, but you can't get it for that, child." "No; I was thinking... In The Heart Of Labrador
The central room of the cabin was called the 'engine room.' It was fifteen feet square, with a hole three feet in diameter in one corner, now securely covered. It was used for lowering or hoisting objects through while the globe was at anchor. An ... In The Jolly Cricketers
The "Jolly Cricketers" is just at the bottom of the hill, where the tram-lines begin. The barman leant his fat red arms on the counter and talked of horses with an anaemic cabman, while a black-bearded man in grey snapped up biscuit and cheese, dr... In The Lair Of The Dweller
It is with marked hesitation that I begin this chapter, because in it I must deal with an experience so contrary to every known law of physics as to seem impossible. Until this time, barring, of course, the mystery of the Dweller, I had encountered ... In The Library
As Mr. Evringham turned from the closed door he met his daughter-in-law coming out into the hall. "I've been watching for Dr. Ballard," she said with annoyance. "I don't see why I didn't hear him come down." At this juncture she paused, surprised... In The Name Of The Law
What was to be the issue of this remarkable adventure? Could I bring it to any denouement whatever, either sooner or later? Did not Robur hold the results wholly in his own hands? Probably I would never have such an opportunity for escape as h... In The Panic-stricken City
As on his ride to Colonel Baird's brigade, so also was Heideck on his return threatened by manifold forms of death. Although he successfully and happily avoided all compact bodies of troops on his way across the bloody battlefield, yet single Russ... In The Sacred Grove
ONE by one the slaves of the gang in which we had travelled were dragged forward, held over the execution bowl and sent as messengers to spirit-land, until it came to Omar's turn. In a second two white-faced demons with keen swords seized him, and... In The Shadow Of Doom
An hour wore on, and Constans was approaching the suburbs of the ancient municipality. But it did not suit his purpose to make a landing here. His plan was to reach the lower end of the island upon which the city was built, then to work his way no... In The Shadow Of Sonoma
Of myself, during this period, there is not much to say. For six months I was kept in prison, though charged with no crime. I was a suspect--a word of fear that all revolutionists were soon to come to know. But our own nascent secret service was b... In The Silent Rooms
Presently Graham resumed his examination of his apartments. Curiosity kept him moving in spite of his fatigue. The inner room, he perceived, was high, and its ceiling dome shaped', with an oblong aperture in the centre, opening into a funnel in ... In The Storm
Leatherhead is about twelve miles from Maybury Hill. The scent of hay was in the air through the lush meadows beyond Pyrford, and the hedges on either side were sweet and gay with multitudes of dog-roses. The heavy firing that had broken out... In The Street
The three men gathered in the street outside the house. The night was slightly frosty, but particularly clear, with an east wind blowing. The multitude of blazing stars caused the sky to appear like a vast scroll of hieroglyphic symbols. Maskull fel... In The Sunlight
Presently we saw that the cavern before us opened upon a hazy void. In another moment we had emerged upon a sort of slanting gallery, that projected into a vast circular space, a huge cylindrical pit running vertically up and down. Round this pit th... In The Toils Of Horror
What the creature had told her gave Tara of Helium food for thought. She had been taught that every created thing fulfilled some useful purpose, and she tried conscientiously to discover just what was the rightful place of the kaldane in the univers... In The Twilight Country
Mercer sat on the rear end of the platform and waved good-by vigorously as he was carried swiftly up and out over the water. Under him was a pile of blankets and a coat, and beside him a box of baked dough-like bread--the food he was to turn over ... In Transit
The eighth chapter is exceedingly brief, and relates that Gibbons, the amateur naturalist of the district, while lying out on the spacious open downs without a soul within a couple of miles of him, as he thought, and almost dozing, heard close to ... Indirect Action
The afternoon following the homecoming of the Skylark, Seaton and Dorothy returned from a long horseback ride in the park. After Seaton had mounted his motorcycle Dorothy turned toward a bench in the shade of an old elm to watch a game of tennis o... Indirection
The best way to keep a secret is to publish it in a quite unbelievable form--and insist that it is the truth. Elwar Forell leaned back in his chair, looking about the small dining salon. The usual couples were there, he noticed. Of course,... Injury
St. Thomas, Monday, 17 June 2571 CE Captain Mike Odeon cursed in angry frustration as he climbed out of his command van into a late fall New Pennsylvania evening and signalled his Special Operations team forward. They were too late. ... Inquiries Unsatisfied
Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent li... Inside The Sphere
"Go on," said Cavor, as I sat across the edge of the manhole, and looked down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. It was evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was upon everything. I drew my other leg in... Insomnia
One afternoon, at low water, Mr. Isbister, a young artist lodging at Boscastle, walked from that place to the picturesque cove of Pentargen, desiring to examine the caves there. Halfway down the precipitous path to the Pentargen beach he came su... Instructive Conversation
On the fourth of December, the Projectile chronometers marked five o'clock in the morning, just as the travellers woke up from a pleasant slumber. They had now been 54 hours on their journey. As to lapse of time, they had passed not much more than... Interesting Conversations With Icelandic Savants
Dinner was ready. Professor Liedenbrock devoured his portion voraciously, for his compulsory fast on board had converted his stomach into a vast unfathomable gulf. There was nothing remarkable in the meal itself; but the hospitality of our host, mor... Interim
DeLayne's call was fruitful, more quickly than Cortin had expected. As soon as he identified himself, he was transferred to Ranger Medart. Cortin studied him while DeLayne reported. She'd seen photos of the Ranger before, but that had been bef... Interrupted Effusions
Composed of mud and loose stones, and covered with a thatch of turf and straw, known to the natives by the name of "driss," the gourbi, though a grade better than the tents of the nomad Arabs, was yet far inferior to any habitation built of brick ... Interstellar Extermination
"I hate to leave this meeting--it's great stuff" remarked Seaton as he flashed down to the torpedo room at Fenor's command to send recall messages to all outlying vessels, "but this machine isn't designed to let me be in more than two places at on... Interview
Upstairs in the Family section, Odeon turned to Medart. "Thanks for helping her, Jim. That's one the Brothers hadn't tried before, tricking her into executing an innocent man." "It was a nasty frame, all right, for both of them," Medart agr... Into A Sun
As Rovol and Seaton approached the physics laboratory at the beginning of the period of labor, another small airboat occupied by one man drew up beside them and followed them to the ground. The stranger, another white-bearded ancient, greeted Rovo... Into Savage Borneo
Von Horn cursed the chance that had snatched the girl from him, but he tried to content himself with the thought that the treasure probably still rested in the cabin of the Ithaca, where Bududreen was to have deposited it. He wished that the Dyak... Into The Mist
OUR troops had, we found, withdrawn from the burning city and were encamped about a mile away, taking a well-earned rest, and watching with satisfaction the destruction of the once powerful capital of the "Pirate of the Niger." The presence of Lio... Into The Moon Pool
"Goodwin," Throckmartin went on at last, "I can describe him only as a thing of living light. He radiated light; was filled with light; overflowed with it. A shining cloud whirled through and around him in radiant swirls, shimmering tentacles, lumin... Introduction
ON February the First 1887, the Lady Vain was lost by collision with a derelict when about the latitude 1 degree S. and longitude 107 degrees W. On January the Fifth, 1888--that is eleven months and four days after--my uncle, Edward Prendick, a p... Invitation
Monday, 16 March 2572 Sara Blackfeather read the invitation for the third time, still not sure if it was real or a poor joke. Inquisitors were most emphatically not known for their hospitality, and it seemed incredible that the notorious C... Is More Mysterious
I sat and stared at the old man in astonishment. Obviously he was fully convinced that he was giving me an accurate account of what had happened, and equally obviously he was perfectly sane. "That is all," he said presently. "The rock came to me... Is The World Growing Better?
Before daylight on the following morning they descended to breakfast. Mrs. Barton had enjoyed a comfortable night, and Dr. Jones expressed himself as delighted with her condition. "You have everything to hope for," he said to the family. "I leav... Issus Goddess Of Life Eternal
The confession of love which the girl's fright had wrung from her touched me deeply; but it humiliated me as well, since I felt that in some thoughtless word or act I had given her reason to believe that I reciprocated her affection. Never have... It Could Be Anything
Keith Laumer, well-known for his tales of adventure and action, shows us a different side of his talent in this original, exciting and thought-provoking exploration of the meaning of meaning. "She'll be pulling out in a minute, Br... It Is Good To Be Alive
Amongst the letters lying on my breakfast-table a few days after the meeting was one addressed in an unfamiliar hand. The writing was bold, and formed like a man's. There was a faint trace of a perfume about the envelope which I remembered. I open... J T Maston Recalled
"It is `they' come back again!" the young midshipman had said, and every one had understood him. No one doubted but that the meteor was the projectile of the Gun Club. As to the travelers which it enclosed, opinions were divided regarding their ... Jackson's Arm
Little did I dream the fateful part Jackson's arm was to play in my life. Jackson himself did not impress me when I hunted him out. I found him in a crazy, ramshackle* house down near the bay on the edge of the marsh. Pools of stagnant water stood... Jason
Next morning the headlines of the newspapers blazed out the news of the meeting at the Queen's Hall, and the world read the words of Sarakoff. Strange to say, most of the papers seemed inclined to view the situation seriously. "If," said one ... Jesse Pringle 2039
They were after him. The whole world was in flames, and the buildings were falling, the mighty were fallen, the Day of Judgment was at hand. He ran through the flames, blindly. Blind Samson. Eyeless in Gaza, treading at the mill. The mills of th... Jewel's Arrival
When her grandfather had disappeared, Jewel placed Anna Belle on the seat beside her, where she toed in, in a state of the utmost complacence. "I have my work to do, Anna Belle," she said, "and this will be a good time, so don't disturb me till t... Jewel's Correspondence
While Jewel still stood turning over in her mind what she had heard, charming strains of music began coming up through the hall. Cousin Eloise had gone to the piano. "I almost which I hadn't made her tell me," thought the child, "for how can I he... John Castellan's Threat
Lennard's first feelings after the receipt of Mr Parmenter's cablegram, and the casting of the vast mass of metal which was to form the body of the great cannon, were those of doubt and hesitation, mingled, possibly, with that sense of semi-irresp... John Insists On Going Back Again-a Strange But Amusing Incident Occurs
When we rose the next day the moon was a considerable distance away from us, but not so far off as might at first be imagined if one only considered the speed at which we were travelling; for, although moving at our full speed, the earth was ... John Jones's Dollar
Take a board with 64 squares on it. Put a grain of wheat on the first square--two on the second--four on the third. Keep doubling in this manner and you will find there isn't enough wheat in the world to fill the sixty-fourth squ... Joiwind
IT WAS DENSE NIGHT when Maskull awoke from his profound sleep. A wind was blowing against him, gentle but wall-like, such as he had never experienced on earth. He remained sprawling on the ground, as he was unable to lift his body because of its int... Junior Achievement
"What would you think," I asked Marjorie over supper, "if I should undertake to lead a junior achievement group this summer?" She pondered it while she went to the kitchen to bring in the dessert. It was dried apricot pie, and very tasty, I migh... Jupiter And Trouble!
The huge ship circled the planet twice, with the instruments adjusted to detect the metal of the domes. They spread over many miles of the surface, yet were like grains of sand on the enormous globe. When the gauges quivered over a section, hidd... Jupiter Equilateral
For a moment, Major Briarton just stared at him. Then he was on his feet, shaking his head as he came around the desk. "Tom, use your head," he said. "It's as much of a shock to me as it is to you, but you can't afford to jump to false conclusions... Jupiter Somewhat Close
Except as to the time the comet would take to revolve round the sun, it must be confessed that all the professor's calculations had comparatively little interest for anyone but himself, and he was consequently left very much to pursue his studies ... Kar Komak The Bowman
As Carthoris moved through the forest toward the distant cliffs with Thuvia's hand still tight pressed in his, he wondered a little at the girl's continued silence, yet the contact of her cool palm against his was so pleasant that he feared to bre...