Adventure stories; Science fiction; Time travel -- Fiction
"A great deal to me. When the Council voted to let your scientist
accomplice have a free hand, I had to go along. But I still think
you're both spies, and up to something dangerous." He paused, and at
the same moment Andreson spotted him--circling with silent, outspread
wings, about twenty-five feet up from where the Earthman hung. He went
right on looking, as if he had seen nothing, turning his head from side
to side in apparent bewilderment.
"Follow us around, then, if you have the time to waste," he said. "Two
men against a city--you can afford to be brave. The odds are all on
your side."
"You ground-grubber," the Varan gritted. "Follow you around--while you
corrupt a Varan girl with your lies about the future, and plot to let
the beasts in! Do you think I'm such a fool? The Council is blind with
sitting so long under the Starstone--but there are still a few of us
who can see!"
"What with?" Andreson taunted. "You seem to be all mouth."
With a low snarl of rage, Atel plunged. His powerful wings furled
tightly around his body, he dropped straight for the Earthman. In
the dim light, Andreson saw his massive right arm reach back to his
belt--he was drawing his vacuum club--
* * * * *
Andreson jammed the button home and shot skyward. Inexperience told
against him almost at once, for he had drawn the line too fine. His
shoulder slammed hard against Atel's, and the bat-winged creature
tumbled away from him.
The harness continued to haul Andreson blindly upwards. His collar-bone
sent out sharp pains with every movement. It seemed to be broken, or
cracked at least. Was Atel--no--there he was, wings thrashing the air
as he arrested his fall. The Earthman poked the belt-control again,
hovered over his fluttering opponent--two could play at this power-dive
game--
Feet first, he arrowed downward, the hot air roaring in his ears.
Somehow Atel saw him coming, furled his wings again--
For what seemed an eternity the two fell, the city swelling beneath
them from a hazy splotch to a bright quilt, and from that to a glowing
cloudy mass. A jabbing finger reversed Andreson's belt, and slowly he
began to gain. In the growing light he could see Atel's face, turned up
toward him, smiling sardonically.
Then the bat-wings boomed out and Atel was gone, sailing easily around
the nearest tower. Andreson saw the thin, transparent thread of a
bridge almost upon him, and tried to brake, but it was too late--if he
stopped at this speed he'd black out--
The bridge burst under his plummeting feet with the sound of a
waterfall of plate glass, and something snapped in his left foot,
sending fresh waves of pain through his body. The harness cut into him,
yanking against his momentum, and he tried to pull out. At the bottom
of his immense plunge he could clearly see figures in the once-distant
streets. Then he began to rise again--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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