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I've traveled all the outer planets and never met any intelligence equal to that of a man, and I won't admit for a moment that the Mercutians are any exceptions." A man stepped casually onto the express, took one startled look at the dead guard, at them, and fled precipitately back. "Another one to spread the alarm," Morgan said grimly.
If matters were allowed to remain as they now were thus avoiding the useless sacrifice of men inevitably the time would come when the food supply the Mercutians had brought with them would be exhausted. Meanwhile, if the invaders decided to move in their vehicle to another location, they could not do so suddenly without abandoning their apparatus.
They'd ray us all clean out of existence." He thrust the pistol back into the man's blouse. "Wait; our chance will come." "Oh, my God! Look!" someone screamed. A command shattered the air; the tubes of the Mercutians uplifted; a blinding sheet of flame blazed solidly down the street. The minute's grace was up. Even at this distance, the heat scorched and seared.
The terminal was the scene of unwonted activity. The conveyors were disgorging crowds of Earthmen, grim, determined-looking individuals. They scattered purposefully through the various exits of the huge building. Hilary noted with interest that there were no women, no children, on the constantly incoming expresses. The Mercutians were massing, too. The terminal was crowded with guards.
If he could not change the weather, at least he could destroy the infernal thing, stop its grinding out perfect sunshine for the Mercutians. He lifted his weapon. Off to one side a Mercutian arm advanced cautiously, bringing up a sun-tube. He swung on it and fired. The sun-tube clattered to the floor and the arm jerked back, accompanied by a howl of anguish.
The orator gulped and stammered: "I I mean " "Psst," someone hissed hurriedly, "the Mercutians." Three giant Mercutian guards, their sun-tubes at the ready, stumbled heavily down the aisles of the express, sagging with the pull of Earth's gravitation. Their gray, warted faces were black as thunderclouds. They stopped before the hastily scattered group.
"And take as many Mercutians with us as we can," Grim amended. "That's one lucky thing. Their rays have no greater range than our bullets." "Except the diskoids," said Hilary. "Here's your chance, Wat, to play with your rattle." The red head, who had lugged the heavy machine gun all the way with him, patted its snout affectionately. "It plays the devil's tattoo," he said.
The first thing I saw was Mercer struggling to his feet with four of the Mercutians hanging on him. One had a grip on his throat from behind; another clutched him about the knees. The two others let go of him when they heard me land in the boat. One had evidently had enough, for he dived overboard. The other waited warily for my onslaught.
The greater number of the Mercutians were twisted smoldering wrecks. The few who escaped were rapidly diminishing dots in the cold starlight. Its work finished, the rescuing space flier settled softly to the ground, in the midst of the embattled cheering Earthmen, temporarily gone insane. The air-lock port yawned, and a slim figure darted out, straight into Hilary's outstretched arms. "Joan!"
It was only a hundred yards, but the Mercutians were coming down fast. They had been seen. A flash as of molten metal gleamed overhead. A blinding ray leaped for the ground, struck viciously a little ahead of the running men. The velvet green grass crisped to ash; the soil underneath scorched. "Scatter!" Hilary shouted. Instantly the men spread out.
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