d’Alembert 2 – Stranglers Moon – E. E. Doc Smith

fatal.

The crane stopped moving shortly before Jules reached it, as the Chandakhari aboard

realized what was happening. After an initial moment of surprise, they reacted in

accordance with Jules’ suggestion, clambering off the crane as quickly as they could.

Being in suits made it both difficult and dangerous, for quick movement around machinery

could easily lead to a tear in the material, which in turn led to instant death. Still, Jules

was encouraged and relieved to see just how fast they could move.

Jules landed with his knees bent to cushion the impact and grabbed at a nearby strut to

stabilize himself. Then, with the momentum of his leap dispersed, he ran forward to the

crane’s cab and took the controls.

Rask was coming broadside at the crane for maximum impact. There was no way a

crash could be avoided the crane moved entirely too slow to dodge-but it was Jules’ plan

to try to turn the big crane through as large an angle as possible. The collision with the

scraper would not be as catastrophic if the angle of impact were less than ninety

degrees.

There was no sound on the airless surface of Vesa, but the noise of the gears grinding

was very strong in Jules’ imagination as he pushed hard at the controls. Rask’s scraper

was only a couple dozen meters away and closing the distance rapidly. The caterpillar

treads of the crane shuddered as Jules forced them beyond their level of tolerance. Five,

ten degrees the crane turned, and then it was too late. The scraper struck the side of the

crane with the full force of its twenty-metric-ton mass.

Jules abandoned his position the instant before the crash occurred-he had no intention of

being tossed around inside the cab and possibly having his spacesuit ripped. He was out

the open door and standing on the side of the crane when the impact happened. The

force of the collision transmitted itself through his feet and jarred his whole body. His

head was so badly shaken that his teeth threatened to break loose and roll around in his

mouth like dice on a gaming table. A sudden stab of pain lanced through his left leg just

below the knee, where it was still recovering from its previous injury; Jules winced as the

leg buckled slightly under him, and he grabbed a nearby strut for support.

As Rask’s vehicle had hit the crane, he had activated the lift mechanism of the scraper

blade, hoping to be able to overturn the larger machine. The crane rocked and trembled,

and Jules was afraid for one instant that Rask might actually accomplish his goal; but the

crane was simply too massive, and after a couple of seconds Rask abandoned that

effort in favor of new mayhem.

Radapur, the young Chandakhar who had started the fight two days ago, had jumped

away from the crane with the rest of his colleagues, and was now by himself on foot

some fifteen meters away. Rask saw this and, backing away from the crane, he

propelled his scraper in the direction of the lone Chandakhar.

Judging from the relative positions, Jules realized that there was no way anyone else

could reach Radapur before Rask’s scraper did. He would have to act on his own to save

the lad. He tried to yell out a warning, but by this time the radio band was so full of

yelling and epithets that no individual voices could be heard. Giving his left leg a quick

test, he decided it was ready enough for action, so he braced himself to move once

more.

Above and in front of him, some twenty-five meters off the ground, dangled the sky hook

of the crane. Jules took a slight running start and, with legs curled under him like tightly

coiled springs, he leaped upward for it.

Even considering Vesa’s light gravity it would have been an impossible feat for anyone

from an Earthlike world but Jules was a DesPlainian and trained in the expert use of his

physical abilities. Centuries of genetic adaptation and a lifetime of physical conditioning

were implied in the force of his leap, and he made it with energy to spare.

He grabbed at the hook as he would a trapeze, and his forward momentum caused it to

sway a bit. By leaning his body in the proper direction he was able to increase the swing

slightly, although the hook was far more massive than any trapeze he’d even worked

with. Slowly, very slowly, his pendulum was making longer and longer swings, building up

the momentum he would need for one more leap.

Down on the ground, the scraper was closing in on Radapur. Slow as that vehicle was, it

could still outrun a man. The young Chandakhar was using a stall tactic of leaping high

into the air to get out of the machine’s path, but that tactic could only be used for so long,

because he would come down so slowly that Rask bad time to position himself closer to

the landing spot. It would only be a matter of a few seconds before the maddened driver

flattened his quarry.

The hook he was riding was now swinging to Jules’ satisfaction. Holding his timing until

just the proper moment on the downswing, Jules let go of his perch and soared out over

the empty crater toward the moving scraper. His aim bad to be exceedingly accurate,

since be was not working in an atmosphere that would let him make minor course

corrections by adjusting his body position for variable air resistance.

Rask was apparently tiring of his hit-and-run game with Radapur, now, for he had

stopped his vehicle and was standing up, pulling a blaster from his belt. He fired off a

couple of bolts in Radapur’s direction, but missed by wide margins. This erratic firing,

coupled with Rask’s earlier insane driving, led Jules to the inescapable conclusion that

the man was either drunk or drugged.

Rask’s stopping the scraper threw off Jules’ calculations slightly, and his downward

descent was a little forward of the mark. As he came down over Rask’s head, though,

the SOTS agent managed to kick out with his right foot and knock the blaster from the

man’s hand. The gun went sailing through the airless sky to land harmlessly on the

ground some fifteen meters away.

Jules came down two meters in front of the scraper and rolled, being extremely careful

to take the brunt of the shock on the tough parts of his suit-gloves and boots. Springing

once more to his feet, he spun lightly around to face his antagonist.

Most of the yelling over the communications band had died down now, and Jules could

make out Rask’s voice. The man was ranting away at the top of his lungs. “. . .

murderers, all of them. You must be one, too. You all killed Brownsend.” Then he

launched himself at Jules.

The circus star easily sidestepped the oncoming body and grabbed it as it went by.

Flinging it around with one hand like a rag doll, he pulled back with his other hand and

landed a closed-fist blow right under Rask’s ribs. The man’s eyes bugged out inside his

helmet and air was forced from his lungs. His body went limp as all the fight apparently

drained out of him.

Jules lowered Rask’s body gently to the ground and sat straddling him. “What’s gotten

into you, anyhow?” he asked angrily. “I want an explanation for this.

The defeated man gasped several times like a fish out of water before he could speak

again. Finally he got enough air in his lungs to say, “They killed him! Those damned

Chandies killed him!.

“Killed who?.

“Brownsend. I went to his apartment last night. There was no trace of him or his things.

Landlord said he just left a note saying he was leaving, but I know better. Those

drapping Chandies killed him and cleaned him out to cover it up. They never did like him.

I’ll kill them all, every last drapping one of them!” Rask started struggling again, but Jules

held the man’s arms tightly to his sides and thought.

Rask’s hypothesis struck a very surprising note. What he was describing seemed to be

the modus operandi of the very gang Jules had been sent here to investigate.

Could it be that he’d stumbled on the gang totally by accident.

But even as he thought that, he could see that it was not the whole picture. The seven

Chandakhari worked an eight-hour shift here. Assuming they spent another eight hours

on such necessities as eating and sleeping, that meant they would have to be killing the

average thirty-five people a day in only another eight hours. A rampage of death like that

could not be missed even by the tourists, let alone the police. No, the seven Chandakhari

working here were not the entire group he was after.

On the other hand, any doubts he had about their being involved were rapidly

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