United States or Aruba ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
To Hilary's fascinated gaze it seemed as if there would be a terrific smash. But the Vagabond came to a screaming, braking halt directly in the center of the milling, scattering Mercutians. Almost simultaneously the air resounded with staccato bursts. Ratatat-tat-a-tat. "Good little Wat," Grim danced insanely. "He's cutting loose the submachine gun." Hilary woke from his amazement with a start.
They represented the past of Egypt, as installations like the atomic energy plant at En-Shass, or Inchass as it was sometimes called, represented the future. There were soldiers along the route, too, dressed in British-style brown uniforms. Some carried Sten guns, vicious little submachine guns originally of English manufacture. "Why the soldiers?" Scotty asked. "Camp near," Hassan replied.
He threw the pistol and the head vanished. Both boys got to their feet and crouched to rush any newcomers. They whirled at the tinkle of broken glass behind them. Youssef stood in the window, a Sten gun trained on them. Rick looked at the deadly little submachine gun and gulped. He remembered what Ben had said about removing the evidence. The thief said, "Put both hands on top of your heads."
Those few remaining of the fighting Earthmen farther up the valley, no longer menaced by the futile fliers, had come down to help their weaponless brethren. Wat's voice was shrill in the land, yelling, exhorting, screaming. A familiar rat-a-tat-a-tat came down the wind. The submachine gun was spitting steel-jacketed death. Where was Joan? Hilary wondered wearily.
A Municipal corporal at the top grabbed for a warning whistle, but Gordon clipped him with a hasty rabbit punch and shoved him down the stairs. Then they were in front of an ornate door, with their weapons ready. Izzy yanked the door open and dropped flat behind it. Bullets from a submachine gun clipped out, peppering the entrance and the door, and ricocheting down the hall.
Oscar was fitting another clip into his submachine gun. "Well, we'll have to go to the spaceport and get them," he said. "And take four ropes instead of three." "You'll have to fight your way in," Dad told him. "Odin Dock & Shipyard won't let you take people out of their spaceport without a fight. They've all bought tickets by now, and Fieschi will have to protect them."
To conquer the world! Surely you jest." Plekhanov grunted ungraciously. He looked to Barry Watson, a lanky youth, now leaning negligently against the wall, his submachine gun, however, at the easy ready. "Watson, you're our military expert. Have you any opinions as yet?" "Yes, sir," Watson said easily.
An old-fashioned submachine gun, abstracted from some museum, weighed heavily under his arm. It clattered unheeded to the floor as the bantam dived for Hilary and Joan. "We came as fast as we could when we got your message," he crowed. "Dropped everything." His nimble fingers were making havoc of the knotted bonds, while his nimbler tongue wagged on. "Boy, we have them on the run.
The odd thing was that peace was being restored, or was restoring itself, as the uproar had begun outwardly from the center of the plaza to the periphery of the crowd. The same thing had happened when Gofredo had ordered the submachine gun fired, and, now that he recalled, when he had dealt with the line-crasher. "Suppose a few of them, in the middle, are agreed," Anna said.
If only we had the submachine gun with us, but Wat took it along, and he's gone." "Not much chance, I'm afraid," said Hilary; "but we'll fight it out. Here they come." The two men crouched lower. All about them was silence; not even a leaf stirred in the heavy breathlessness. The driving fliers were easily visible now.
Word Of The Day