Before Egypt Part 8

"Lorn McKee!" Doree gasped. "Dean Talbott!"

The Terran origination of these two was obvious. McKee was bald, paunchy, middle-aged, his face loose from easy living. Talbott tended toward the more athletic figure. He was dark, his eyes clear and sharp, his mouth cruel.

"Surprise," Nicko said with a noticeable lack of warmth in his voice.

"Bet you never expected to see us on your front porch."

Talbott smiled coldly. "Yes, and no. After we left you in s.p.a.ce we thought we were rid of you. But we saw you tagging after us when we were over the planet and it was too late to do anything about it.

Congratulations. How did you manage it?"

"What have you done with my father?" Doree asked.

Talbott pondered the loathing in her eyes. It did not seem to bother him. "Your father is well taken care of. He will be--" McKee raised a delicate hand. "But the details would only horrify you."

Mike was on his feet and had the Terran by the throat. Talbott gagged and flailed helplessly. He was no weakling, but still not a match for Mike's strength and rage.

The haughty-eyed native girl had been standing silent, regarding the tableaux. Now she snapped a command and two soldiers stepped forward and seized Mike. A third hit Mike a vicious blow across the skull with the flat of an ugly jeweled sword he carried. Mike staggered and fell back on the bench, blood running from his scalp.

Talbott rubbed his throat and adjusted his clothing. Viciousness shone in his eyes. "We had no great animosity toward you before, but now--"

"That's why you left us stranded in s.p.a.ce?" Mike asked.

"It was just that we did not want to b.l.o.o.d.y our hands killing you but you had to be got out of the way."

"Well, we're in the way now."

"Not at all. We have had time to put ourselves in solid with these fierce but rather stupid people. We've also had time to arrange for this hostile reception accorded you. We told them--"

"I can't see that it matters what you told them. We can see the result."

"I'm more interested in how you got to them," Nicko said. "You don't know their lingo."

"There are ways if one has the time." McKee had come forward and was regarding Nicko with interest. He was not alone. Katal'halee and every soldier within range was also regarding him with interest. "Just what manner of creature is this, anyhow?" Talbott asked.

"Why you slab-sided slob--!" Nicko yelled.

Talbott flushed and took a backward step. The three soldiers moved forward, scowling.

"Take it easy," Mike said. "We know how we stand. It's just as well we don't antagonize these people any further until we can get some kind of foothold."

"You'll get a foothold," McKee sneered. "In the priests' embalming rooms." With that, he turned and walked away, obviously satisfied with the situation. Talbott turned to follow him. He bowed to Katal'halee as though awaiting her pleasure. The proud native Princess appeared to have had enough of this spectacle and moved haughtily aft. As he followed her, Talbott glanced swiftly back at the prisoners as if to say: _See how solidly we're in? You haven't got a chance._ This was all too evident.

"What do you suppose they're up to?" Mike asked.

Doree looked up questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"They aren't just here to enjoy the hospitality of these people.

They've got something more in mind."

"They're after the loot, what else?" Nicko said.

"If you're right and I think you are, they must have a plan. And if the plan is what I think it is, they've got their s.h.i.+p ready for a quick blast-off."

Doree's face was tight with inner turmoil. "We've got to find father!

We've got to help him!"

Mike took her hand. "We'll do our best, but you must keep a grip on yourself. Your going to pieces won't help."

Doree made an effort. "I'm sorry. I'll--"

Her words were broken off by sudden activity on the s.h.i.+p. Mike glanced out and noted the landscape had changed to one of broad cultivation.

The rough jungle country had completely vanished. Obviously the s.h.i.+p had been moving at great speed, its effect on the pa.s.sengers lessened by the huge gla.s.s s.h.i.+eld in front of the s.h.i.+p's prow. Looking ahead, he could see the spires of a city in the distance.

But this was not the object of the patrol's concern. Their eyes were riveted to another s.h.i.+p--a strange s.h.i.+ning craft that was moving in from the left at great speed.

Mike heard shouts of both consternation and anger in the odd tongue of these people as they appeared to be girding for battle.

The approaching s.h.i.+p was of radically different design than the one on which they were trapped. It was completely of metal and had no golden or jeweled decorations. It was long and slim and completely enclosed and had the appearance of a true fighting s.h.i.+p. None of its pa.s.sengers were visible.

Nicko had been talking to the feathered warrior. The latter had sat silent during the brush with McKee and Talbott and Mike had almost forgotten his presence.

Nicko turned in excitement. "He says that's a Baserite raider! He says it's very seldom they come in so close but that one's planning to raise general h.e.l.l with this scow. This isn't one of the Ptomenite's fighter fleet and we'll have a pretty rough time."

The golden craft was following a two-p.r.o.nged plan. The Ptomenites were spraying the sky with their deadly crystal ray and at the same time kiting for home as fast as the s.h.i.+p would go. Out beyond, the slim s.h.i.+p did a remarkable roll to avoid the ray and screamed in for the kill.

The wind was howling around the Ptomenite s.h.i.+p now, and her timbers groaned under the pressure. Then the Baserite craft attempted a strike. It appeared to be trying for only a close arc but at the last moment it nosed down in a breathtaking maneuver and streaked straight for the exposed deck.

Frantically, the Ptomenites brought their ray gun around to bear on the death-laden juggernaut. They were partially successful, spitting forth a deadly barrage just as the prow of the attacker crashed into the deck.

Had the blow been uncontested, the Baserite s.h.i.+p would have roared on through and gone its way in triumph. But the crystalline force-field crashed out with a viciousness of its own. It had no seeming effect upon the hull of the Baserite raider, but it hurled the craft back from its position and far out into the sky.

Great damage had already been done, however. A gaping hole left the bejeweled deck almost split in two. But by lucky chance, the overhead globes had not been damaged and the speed of the Ptomenite s.h.i.+p did not diminish.

It was streaking toward the city, now seen clearly from the deck and as the Baserite s.h.i.+p righted itself, Mike saw similar s.h.i.+ps--sleek metal fighters, rising from a port near the city.

The commander of the Baserite s.h.i.+p seemed to be making a decision as his craft hung in s.p.a.ce. To attack or flee? Could he reach and demolish the crippled barge before the Ptomenite fighters reached the scene?

Both Mike and Nicko hung upon this indecision. Nicko said, "I hope that stupid codger doesn't commit suicide. If he does, we go down too."

"Maybe it's just as well," Mike said grimly.

"I've always subscribed to staying alive as long as possible," Nicko retorted.