"You're all right?" asked Tommy. At Evelyn's speechless nod, he put
his hand heavily on her shoulder. "I'm glad," he managed to say. "Put
on that gas mask. Hell's going to pop in a minute."
He watched, every muscle tense. There was confusion about the city
gate. Ground vehicles, loaded with foodstuffs, poured out of the gate
and back toward the jungle. Other vehicles with improvised
enlargements to their carrying platforms--making them into huge closed
boxes--rolled up to the gate. The loaded vehicles rolled back and back
and back, and ever more apparently empty ones crowded about the city
gate waiting for admission.
Then there was a sudden flare of intolerable light. A wild yell arose.
Clouds of steam shot up from the ready steam guns. But the circling
air fleet turned as one ship and plunged for the city. The leaders
began to drop smoking things that turned into monstrous pillars of
prismatically-colored mist. A wave of deadly vapor rolled over the
ramparts of the city. And then there was a long-continued ululation
and the noise of battle. Ragged Men, hidden in the jungle, had swarmed
upon the walls with ladders made of jungle reeds. They came over the
parapet in a wave of howling madness. And they surged into the city,
flinging gas bombs as they came.
CHAPTER X
_The Fight_
The city was pandemonium. Tommy, looking down from his post of
command, swore softly under his breath. The Death Mist was harmless to
the defenders of Yugna as a gas, because of their gas masks. But it
served as a screen. It blotted out the waves of attackers so the steam
guns could not be aimed save at the shortest of short ranges. His
precautions were taking effect, to be sure. Two thirds of the
attackers were Ragged Men drawn from about half the surviving cities,
and against such a horde Yugna could not have held out at all but for
his preparations. Now the defenders took a heavy toll. Swarms of men
came racing toward the open gate, their truncheons aglow in the
sunlight. The ring of Death Mist was contracting as if to strangle the
city, and it left the ramparts bare again. And from more than one
point upon the battlements the roaring clouds of steam burst out
again. A dozen guns concentrated on the racing men of Rahn, plunging
from the jungle to enter by the gate. They were racing forward,
without order but at top speed, to share in the fighting and loot.
Then streams of metal balls tore into them. The front of the irregular
column was wiped out utterly. Wide swathes were cut in the rest. The
survivors ran wildly forward over a litter of dead and dying men.
Electric-charge weapons sent crackling discharges among them. Their
contorted figures reeled and fell or leaped convulsively to lie
forever still where they struck. And then the steam guns turned about
to fire into the rear of the men who had charged past them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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