Tower Of The Medusa

11. SKY BATTLE

For a moment it seemed as if nothing had happened. Then the advancing line of robots coming down the opposite hall stopped dead. They milled in confusion. The air shrilled with the squeal of electronic conversation as they babbled to one another in strange confusion.

Then the foremost of their number turned on the second and battered in his head!

Circuits shorted with a blaze of sparks. The dead colossus fell sprawling, and his metallic murderer turned to assault a second victim. Caola, Temujin and the Witch Queen stared in awe and astonishment at this unexpected diversion.

The rank of robots on the stair, who had been first to accost the fallen Temujin, now broke the strange paralysis that had halted their progress as well. Steel limbs rose and fell, as metal warriors roared in battle with their former comrades. Stone cracked and splintered as steel gladiators, locked in combat, shattered through the balustrade and fell to the landing below.

Within instants the metal horde were caught in a fury of internecine strife. Ignoring the humans, they fell upon each other in a fury of blind rage. The din of battle was terrific, as steel claws wrenched and tore at steel limbs, as clubbed extremities battered in metal skulls, stove in steel-clad thorax and chest.

Blue fire spat from torn wires. Power centers detonated deafeningly, blasting metal bodies apart. Oily smoke seethed from steaming bodies of the fallen.

Azeera was frozen in astonishment. Never in the long years of her reign had her metal legions revolted against her supremacy. Now it seemed that her robot warriors had gone mad!

“Stop, you fools! I, your Queen, command you to cease!”

The metal-clad horde turned to regard her. Then, stilling their combat, they marched forward again. Kirin—who alone knew what had happened—seized the gaping doctor and jerked him aside, out of the path of the metal giants. They tramped across the rotunda towards the place where Azeera stood. Behind her, at the mouth of the other hall, a similar troop advanced, and up the stairway came a third.

Azeera screamed, as realization came to her; terror flamed in her glorious eyes. She clawed at the crystal scepter that danged like an ornate, jewelled toy at her girdle. Lambent green flame welled from its tip. Tendrils of emerald radiance whipped out to writhe about the limbs of the oncoming steel colossi. They fell, some of them, immobilized by the force of her magic weapon. But the others marched forward…

She fell, trampled and torn beneath the steel-shod legs of her mechanical slaves. It was a grim sight to behold and Temujin shuddered to see it. Caola paled and turned away. Even Kirin turned aside, his thin lips tightening, his face bleak. He did not look again at the torn and scarlet thing that wriggled feebly beneath the crushing tread of the marching automata…

He knew not how he had done the thing, but he had directed a blast of electric force against the robot horde. Their reasoning centers, overloaded, had gone dead. Mindless, they obeyed only the last order they had received—to kill! And in their blind fury, they had crushed and trampled down Azeera, the Witch Queen of Zangrimar, into death. She had dreamed of whelming the Inner Worlds beneath her steel-shod legions. Well, the Inner Worlds had naught to fear from her now…

The thunder of conflict when the three files of marching robots encountered each other, echoed from the curved walls of the rotunda. In seconds the air was filled with a frightful din. And from other portions of the palace, Kirin heard a similar uproar. It would seem that the force he had directed against their robot foes had passed through the entire citadel.

Every robot in the palace had gone mad and was attacking anything that moved or lived.

It was a good time to be gone from this scene of carnage. He caught the attention of his comrades, gesturing since he could not be heard above the uproar, pointing to the far end of the rotunda where a balcony opened beyond a line of marble columns.

Avoiding the chaos of battling mechanical men, they went out onto the balcony. Just below, where a landing area jutted out from the wall of the citadel, he spotted an unoccupied sky sled. In a matter of seconds he had helped Temujin and Caola over the balustrade and down to the lower level. He clambered down himself and they ran to the sled. It had been under guard, but the two automatons had turned upon each other, maddened by the deadening of their reasoning centers, and had battered each other into wreckage.

“Quick, let’s get out of here,” he growled, helping the girl up onto the sled. Puffing, the little thaumaturge scrambled atop the shallow oval platform of the flying machine.

“Onolk, Maryash, and Thaxis of the Spears, lad, what the devil did you do back there?” Temujin wheezed.

“I swear I don’t know… something came over me,” Kirin said wonderingly.

Suddenly the balcony jumped beneath them, knocking them sprawling. Black webwork splintered through the marble facing of the landing area. Smoke boiled up beyond the castled crest of the citadel above them. All over the visible portion of the citadel, lights went dead.

“That must have been a central power source,” he grunted. “Come on, no time to sit and talk now!”

Settling Caola and the little thaumaturge in the low seats that ran around the outer edge of the sky sled, Kirin made his way forward to the control chair. He seated himself before a gleaming crystal pedestal, similar to the one he had watched in use when they had been brought here from the space field. He hoped he could remember how the robot pilot had controlled the craft. He fumbled with searching hands across the surface of the glistening column. Lights flickered into life within the translucent substance. Ah… thus, and so… yes!

“I thought it might come in handy, knowing how to operate one of these things,” he laughed. “So I paid attention when we were flown in from the ship. Hold on, now.”

Like an autumn leaf caught by an updraft of wind, the twenty-foot-long oval of gleaming plastic swung up from the landing area and drifted up into the air. Wind plucked at Kirin’s hair and made his eyes water as he swung the craft out over the city.

It was early evening. Eight or nine moons hung like pallid lanterns in the dusky sky. Lights twinkled along the coiling avenues of the metal metropolis and the tall towers blazed with radiance against the gathering gloom. Seemingly, the madness of the robots had not spread beyond the confines of the palace, for as they dipped and soared over broad avenues and plazas they could see no sign of chaos or battle.

Kirin wondered if the ship was still bound helpless in the force field that had captured them. Did the ship brain live, or was it still shut off? He activated his wristlet, which was radio-connected to the brain, but got no response. There was no time to pursue the matter, for he suddenly saw a rising wedge of sky sleds similar to the one in which they rode. The other craft rose from the roof of a long low structure beneath, to block their path.

Caola stifled a low cry.

“Look out—we are being intercepted by the Perimeter Patrol,” she called. Kirin nodded grimly.

“So I see. And I don’t think this craft has any guns. Doc, how’s your wand holding out? Still got some juice left?”

Temujin shook his head doubtfully.

“The charge must be almost exhausted by now, lad. I used it pretty frequently back there, along towards the last. The power cells are self-renewing, they extract energy from cosmic radiation, but the repowering process takes time. At least an hour.”

“There goes that idea, then!” Kirin slitted his eyes against the stinging wind-stream, and leaned over the edge to peer down. “We’ll have to try dodging them, then. Hang on tight—”

As the foremost sleds raced towards them, Kirin lifted the craft in a dizzy climb that had the sled almost standing on edge. He stepped up the power and they soared above the advancing patrol. When they reached the two thousand foot level, he leveled off and flew straight towards the distant space field. It lay far across the width of the steel city from here. He knew they would not reach it in time…

The pursuing craft were on their tail, and drawing closer. Even as he caught a swift glance behind, a flash of intense fire blazed from one of the leading craft. White flame exploded in mid-air a little to his left. The concussion rocked their sled violently. He spun about in a half-circle. And came down shrieking to a lower level, beneath the patrol.

Again he straightened out and flew for the field. But the patrol had caught on to his evasive actions and came settling down all around him, bracketing his sled. He could fly no lower for he was skimming the crest of some of the buildings now. And he could not break through the blanketing tactic of the enemy craft to ascend again. His lips tightened grimly. This was the end. The robot warriors would have no difficulty in forcing him down to the ground now.

If only he had a gun! But his hand weapon was left behind in the palace. It had been taken from him when he had been first captured, and he had never seen it again…

The sleds above were settling down almost on top of him now. Forcing him down. He swung swiftly to one side at a sharp angle, hoping to come out from under the blanket of sleds.

But the robots were watchful and had anticipated his next move. The squadron above wheeled and darted in the same direction, moving all at once like a trained phalanx.

“End of the line, I guess,” he grunted sourly.

And then the sled on his left came apart in mid-air. Crimson fire flashed blindingly. Bits of hot plastic rattled on the surface of his sled.

“What th—”

And then one on his right exploded. Black smoke whipped past them and was gone.

“Hang on tight,” he yelled, and lifted the sled, driving straight up through the hole left by the blasted sled. By some miracle he was up and out of the opening before the rest of the formation had time to block him. Now he was well above them and flying at full velocity. But they were climbing after him… or were they?

He peered down and saw them disintegrate one by one. Fire blossomed briefly as the pursuers exploded, shedding plumes of black hot smoke and showers of molten plastic on the metropolis below.

“What’s happening, lad?” Temujin gasped. Kirin shrugged, a joyous grin lighting his face.

“I have no idea, but I hope it keeps up!”

It did. The last of the pursuing craft vanished in flame and thunder, and the sky was theirs.

Or was it?

A dark shape blotted out the skies above. Temujin squawked and pointed.

“By the Beard of Arnam, lad—isn’t that your ship?”

Kirin craned his neck and looked. It was indeed! The huge black shape was almost invisible against the murky sky of evening. You could see little else besides the shadowy hugeness and the dim blue glow of the pressor beam lamps which supported it above the surface of the planet. Kirin thumbed his wristlet.

“How did you get here? Was it you that knocked down those patrol craft?”

A familiar mechanical voice answered from the phone strapped to his wrist.

“I became aware 10.2 minutes ago that the force field holding my circuits under control had gone dead. According to Prime Directive gamma-2, I took to the air, searching out your whereabouts on my own initiative. Then I heard your call and traced your beam. I observed you were being pursued by a squadron of aerial automata, so I intervened with my secondary disruptor banks and destroyed them before they could—”

“All right, all right,” Kirin growled. “We get the idea. I’m coming up to your level. Hold your present position and be ready to open the forward starboard lock when I come alongside.”

He clicked off and swung the sled up to the seven thousand foot level, ascending until he was even with the slim cruiser. Then he gently nursed the sled alongside with tiny bursts of power. The lock swung back and the lighted interior of the ship glowed in the surrounding darkness.

He helped Caola aboard. The sled swayed a bit in the high winds that blew in frequent gusts at this height above the city, but the danger was minimal. Then, fat, puffing old Temujin heaved his bulk through the circular port and vanished within. Kirin set the controls for a dive and jumped.

The steel grill of the lock bay slammed against the soles of his feet. He looked out to see the sled veer away to the north and vanish in the darkness.

“All right, ship. Seal up and hit a course for Pelizon,” he said. The ship silently obeyed.

They were, all of them, exhausted from the strain of the past few hours, tired, battered and hungry. But they were safe and back on the right road again…

We’ve got nothing to worry about now, except a planet-full of kill-crazy Death Dwarves, Kirin thought sourly.