Adventure stories; Love stories; Science fiction; Venus (Planet) -- Fiction; War stories
But we had no more warning than that. The storm was at hand now, and
the wind was lashing the upper fronds of the palms; purple darkness
here on the island with a flash of lightning and almost simultaneous
thunderclap. For that second the palmetto shrubs were whitely illumined
by the electric glare. Fifty feet away a big, dark upright shape
abruptly was visible. And another--and another! Men stalking us!
The glare died. There was only turgid windy darkness. I must have
muttered something to Nereid; my arm went around her as we turned to
run back to our boat in the cove. Too late! From the palm woods behind
us a violet beam of light stabbed out. It caught us; bathed us. There
was a guttural shout; the sound of a little pop and something whizzing
with a whining hum through the air. I felt something strike my legs. A
little blob which with its impact abruptly uncoiled, and then coiled
again as it wrapped itself around my legs so that I crashed heavily to
earth face down.
And another had hit my neck. Ghastly thing--quivering steel spring. It
felt like that; thin quivering metal encircling my throat. Almost like
a thing alive, gripping me with its metal fingers ... strangling me.
I was aware that Nereid, too, had fallen. My groping fingers clutched
at the strangling band; its sharp edges cut my fingers as futilely I
tried to tear it loose. I recall that I lay threshing, lunging, with my
legs pinned and my breath gone. Dark figures were standing over me now.
Guttural chuckling voices mingled with the roaring torrent of Niagara
in my ears. Then the dancing spots before my bulging eyes blurred the
gathering dark shapes.
III
The roaring in my ears came first as my consciousness struggled back.
My fumbling fingers felt my throat. The band was gone; the skin was
swollen there. Then I knew that I was bathed in the cold sweat of
weakness and was lying on the metal grid of a floor. The murmur of
voices sounded around me; and I opened my eyes to find myself in a
dimly starlit, circular turret room. The control room of a spaceship.
It hummed with a throbbing rhythm of its current. But save for that it
was queerly still, vibrationless.
We were in space. Through the round, transparent turret walls I could
see the blazing stars in a black firmament to one side. The other
was shrouded with metal blinds, through the chinks of which dazzling
sunlight was showing, so that I knew we had already left the giant
cone of the Earth's shadow. Heading partly toward the Sun. Heading for
Venus? It seemed so.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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