They were too far away and the yellow light too uncertain to follow the discussion. It continued for several minutes, then ensued a pause. The leader seemed uncertain what to do. One of his party rolled forward, returned his pistol to its holster, and conversed with the leader. The leader shook his head at the man’s violent gestures.
The man renewed his argument, but met the same negative response. With a final disgusted wave of his hands, he desisted, drew his pistol, and shot at Harvey. Harvey grabbed at his middle and leaned forward. The man shot again; Harvey jerked, and slid to the ground.
The Cadet Captain beat Gaines to the draw. The killer looked up as the bullet bit him. He looked as if he were puzzled by some strange occurrence-being too freshly dead to be aware of it.
The cadets came in shooting. Although the first wave was outnumbered better than two to one, they were helped by the comparative demoralization of the enemy. The odds were nearly even after the first ragged volley. Less than thirty seconds after the first treacherous shot all of the insurgent party were dead, wounded, or under arrest. Gaines’ losses were two dead (including the murder of Harvey) and two wounded.
Gaines modified his tactics to suit the changed conditions. Now that secrecy was gone, speed and striding power were of first importance. The second wave was directed to close in practically to the heels of the first. The third wave was brought up to within twenty-five yards of the second. These three waves were to ignore unarmed men, leaving them to be picked up by the fourth wave, but they were directed to shoot on sight any person carrying arms.
Gaines cautioned them to shoot to wound, rather than to kill, but he realized that his admonishment was almost impossible to obey. There would be killing. Well, he had not wanted it, but he felt that he had no choice. Any armed outlaw was a potential killer – he could not, in fairness to his own men, lay too many restrictions on them.
When the arrangements for the new marching order were completed, he signed the Cadet Captain to go ahead, and the first and second waves started off together at the top speed of which the tumblebugs were capable – not quite eighteen miles per hour. Gaines followed them.
He swerved to avoid Harvey’s body, glancing involuntarily down as he did so. The face was an ugly jaundiced yellow under the sodium arc, but it was set in a death mask of rugged beauty in which the strong fibre of the dead man’s character was evident. Seeing this, Gaines did not regret so much his order to shoot, but the deep sense of loss of personal honor lay more heavily on him than before.
They passed several technicians during the next few minutes, but had no occasion to shoot. Gaines was beginning to feel somewhat hopeful of a reasonably bloodless victory, when he noticed a change in the pervading throb of machinery which penetrated even through the heavy anti-noise pads of his helmet. He lifted an ear pad in time to hear the end of a rumbling diminuendo as the rotors and rollers slowed to rest.
The road was stopped.
He shouted, “Halt your men!” to the Cadet Captain. His words echoed hollowly in the unreal silence.
The top of the reconnaissance car swung up as he turned and hurried to it. “Chief!” the cadet within called out, “relay station calling you.”
The girl in the visor screen gave way to Davidson as soon as she recognized Gaines’ face. “Chief,” Davidson said at once, “Van Kleeck’s calling you.”
“Who stopped the road?”
“He did.”
“Any other major change in the situation?”
“No-the road was practically empty when he stopped it.”
“Good. Give me Van Kleeck.”
The chief conspirator’s face was livid with uncurbed anger when he identified Gaines. He burst into speech. “So! You thought I was fooling, eh? What do you think now, Mister Chief Engineer Gaines?”
Gaines fought down an impulse to tell him exactly what
he thought, particularly about Van Kleeck. Everything about the short man’s manner affected him like a squeaking slate pencil.