The Messiah of the CylinderEmanuel, V. R. (Victor Rousseau)
Philosophy
The Messiah of the Cylinder
Emanuel, V. R. (Victor Rousseau)
Science fiction
Suddenly shouts broke out again from the walls, and were caught up and
echoed back from the Council Hall. Southward, high in the sky,
pin-points of light appeared, like vagrant stars, which became larger,
wheeled, extended.
The Guard cheered frantically. I heard the cry “America!”
If this was the Mormon fleet, come to aid Lembken, there was no doubt
with which side it would join. Perhaps the Guard knew already that
Sanson had outwitted Lembken and outbid him for its support.
The airfleet shot upward, drew together, and a single light, detaching
itself, flew like a rocket upward, moving in the direction of the
oncoming battleplanes, which seemed to hang poised above, like a new
group of Pleiades. The rocket’s apparent speed dwindled, until it seemed
to move as slowly as any star. I saw a second light shoot downward,
detaching itself from those clustered orbs, to meet it. I held my
breath, as all must have done, for not a Ray was fired, nor was there
any sound as the fate of the world hung upon those nearing points. They
circled about each other, a binary star; they moved together; and
suddenly they plunged downward, the whole oncoming fleet following them,
and the roar of a thousand throats rang from the Council Hall:
“The Russians! The Russians! The Tsar! The Tsar!”
The lights grew larger and resolved themselves into the glow
parallelograms again, and the great fleet of battleplanes descended
toward the wall. Again the pattern of light interplayed with the
answering fire from the Ray artillery of the Guard.
The new squadron was armed with Rays almost as strong, taken in
Stockholm, and worked by Swedish gunners. Searchlights and glow rays
blended in heliotrope and pink and blue, playing about the walls,
carrying the most murderous death that man had ever devised. And it
appeared incredible that death lay hidden within that warp and woof of
color that intercrossed through space, blending and twisting, and
forming a thousand patterns upon the night. Once a battleplane, caught
as she wheeled, came crashing down; but the next moment the persistent
Ray found an unprotected place in the walls at last, and hammered at it,
dislodging mortar and stones, till, with a mighty roar, a tower fell
toppling into the court, leaving a great breach in the Guard’s fortress.
Instantly two battleplanes lit like great birds, and behind their
shields a score of men swarmed out, carrying swords and Ray shields,
interlocked. The line swept onward, to encounter the Ray rods of the
defense. I saw it crumple and twist. But other battleplanes had alighted
along the breach, and everywhere small groups were forming between the
Ray guns, which could not be aimed before they were attacked, the
gunners sabered, and the great conical machines made useless. The valor
which had overthrown the Federation’s troops before Tula was not
helpless here.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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