Instant Ebooks Textbook Professional Discourse 1st Edition Britt-Louise Gunnarsson Download All Chapters
Instant Ebooks Textbook Professional Discourse 1st Edition Britt-Louise Gunnarsson Download All Chapters
Instant Ebooks Textbook Professional Discourse 1st Edition Britt-Louise Gunnarsson Download All Chapters
com
https://ebookgate.com/product/professional-
discourse-1st-edition-britt-louise-gunnarsson/
https://ebookgate.com/product/philosophy-of-personal-identity-
and-multiple-personality-1st-edition-logi-gunnarsson/
https://ebookgate.com/product/thriving-under-stress-harnessing-
demands-in-the-workplace-1st-edition-thomas-w-britt/
https://ebookgate.com/product/discourse-in-action-introducing-
mediated-discourse-analysis-1st-edition-sigrid-norris/
https://ebookgate.com/product/the-everglades-1st-edition-sara-
louise-kras/
Everyday Positive Thinking 1st Edition Louise Hay
https://ebookgate.com/product/everyday-positive-thinking-1st-
edition-louise-hay/
https://ebookgate.com/product/what-are-archives-louise-craven/
https://ebookgate.com/product/the-communication-disorders-
workbook-1st-edition-louise-cummings/
https://ebookgate.com/product/mrcp-paces-manual-pastest-1st-
edition-louise-pealing/
https://ebookgate.com/product/urban-youth-and-education-1st-
edition-louise-archer/
Professional Discourse
Continuum Discourse Series
Series Editor: Professor Ken Hyland, Institute of Education, University of London.
Academic Discourse
Ken Hyland
Metadiscourse: Exploring Interaction in Writing
Ken Hyland
Using Corpora in Discourse Analysis
Paul Baker
Discourse Analysis: An Introduction
Brian Paltridge
Spoken Discourse: An Introduction
Helen de Silva Joyce and Diana Slade
Media Discourse
Joanna Thornborrow
School Discourse
Learning to Write across the Years of Schooling
Frances Christie and Beverly Derewianka
Professional Discourse
Britt-Louise Gunnarsson
Professional Discourse
Britt-Louise Gunnarsson
Continuum International Publishing Group
The Tower Building 80 Maiden Lane,
11 York Road Suite 704
London SE1 7NX New York NY 10038
Britt-Louise Gunnarsson has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the Author of this work.
Acknowledgements viii
SECTION 1: INTRODUCTION
1. Introducing the topic and the book 3
1.1 Why is it important to analyse professional discourse? 3
1.2 What is professional discourse? 5
1.3 What distinguishes professional discourse from
other types of discourse? 5
1.4 What is the purpose of the book? 11
1.5 How is the book organized? 12
vi
Contents
SECTION 6: CONCLUSIONS
13. Professional discourse in the twenty-first century 239
13.1 Professional discourse in different domains 239
13.2 Large organizations in the twenty-first century 241
13.3 The multilingual workplace 244
13.4 Workplace discourse in the ‘new work order’ 249
13.5 Topics for future research 251
13.6 Conclusions 252
References 255
Index 267
vii
Acknowledgements
viii
Section 1
Introduction
1
This page intentionally left blank
1 Introducing the topic and
the book
3
Professional Discourse
4
Introducing the Topic and the Book
5
Professional Discourse
and skills and therefore distinguishes them from experts within other
fields as well as from non-experts and learners.
The expert character of professional discourse distinguishes it from
private discourse, which we gradually learn from the time we are
born. Whether we come to learn English, German, French or Swedish
depends on whether we grow up in England, Germany, France or
Sweden. Private discourse belongs to everyone in a language com-
munity, while professional discourse is owned by the members of a
specific group, a specific discourse community. If we choose a special-
ized education and working-life career we will be taught a particular
expert language and discourse, which means that we will gradually
be socialized into a particular professional community. Private dis-
course is mainly learnt unconsciously whereas professional discourse
is taught to us as part of our professional or vocational training.
Professional activities entail domain-specific knowledge and skills
which are created by – and reflected in – language and discourse.
Terminology, text genres, conversation patterns vary from domain to
domain. Interesting research questions are therefore how different
professional languages have emerged, why they became different, and
how and why they have changed over time.
6
Introducing the Topic and the Book
7
Professional Discourse
8
Introducing the Topic and the Book
9
Professional Discourse
can use their mother tongue at work. Throughout the world, however,
we probably find more workplaces which are multilingual in terms
of their workforce, where some employees cannot use their mother
tongue at work and where some have little knowledge of the majority
language at work. As large organizations often choose a global lan-
guage as their corporate language, various linguistic frameworks are
often intertwined in professional communicative events.
10
Introducing the Topic and the Book
11
Professional Discourse
12
Introducing the Topic and the Book
13
Professional Discourse
14
Introducing the Topic and the Book
15
2 A theoretical model for contextual
analysis of professional discourse
16
Contextual Analysis of Professional Discourse
17
Professional Discourse
18
Contextual Analysis of Professional Discourse
19
Professional Discourse
uage-Discou
ng rs
La
e
societal cognitive social
20
Contextual Analysis of Professional Discourse
Situated frame
Communicative event
Participants
21
Professional Discourse
22
Contextual Analysis of Professional Discourse
which patterns for writing and talking at work are created. Text and
talk in a small, close-knit working group with its particular social
and communicative order therefore form part of traditions that evolve
within an environmental structure, i.e. the small working group is
included in a larger unit such as a workplace, which in its turn belongs
to a local branch of a large organization. In many cases, we further
find additional organizational levels, i.e. the organization belongs to
a corporation, which in turn might belong to a net of attached work-
ing partners. Figure 2.3 illustrates the environmental framework of a
working group that forms part of a large organization.
Although the number of levels varies from workplace to work-
place and from organization to organization, a common denominator
is the interdependence and interrelationship between various levels
of the environmental framework. In one way or another, an environ-
mental framework is held together by common goals, operative areas
(domains) and markets. Further, a professional framework is attached
to an organizational structure (involving hierarchies, clusters, group
structure) and a certain social division of work (e.g. the relationship
between qualified staff, skilled and semi-skilled workers, between
seniors and learners, and between employer and employees). Some
frameworks are also held together by explicit management ideas and
attachment to social values. The environmental framework can thus
be said to constrain the reconstruction of discourse at various levels.
The social and communicative order of a small working group thus
depends on the structure and ideas of the organization as a whole.
To sum up, an analysis of the (re)construction of professional dis-
course at macro level should include both a social and an organiza-
tional dimension. The analysis should then also consider how the
Corporation
Organization
Workplace
Working group
23
Professional Discourse
24
Contextual Analysis of Professional Discourse
25
Professional Discourse
26
Contextual Analysis of Professional Discourse
2.4 Conclusions
The theoretical model presented in this chapter will be used to ana-
lyse the dual relationship between context and professional discourse.
The model will be referred to in the discussions of the results of
empirical studies of professional discourse in different domains and
for different purposes. A purpose of these studies, which are based
on authentic data, is to deepen our understanding of how, and also
why, professional discourse varies and changes. The dual relationship
between professional discourse and context is in turn related to a two-
sided complexity. This means that we also need to find a tool for a
micro analysis of professional discourse which grasps its contextual
dependence. In the next chapter, I will introduce a multidimensional
texlinguistic methodology which explores the dynamic relationship
between text and context.
Note
1. Within the sociology of science tradition, many studies have analysed the role of
texts in the establishment of scientific fact (e.g. Knorr-Cetina, 1981; Latour and
27
Professional Discourse
28
3 Methodology to explore
the dynamic relationship
between text and context
29
Professional Discourse
30
The Dynamic Relationship between Text and Context
31
Professional Discourse
Societal sectors
Discipline
Situation
TEXT
Figure 3.1 Contextual frames shaping writing in the professions (Adapted from
Figure 1 in Gunnarsson, 1992a: 208)
The inner frame, regarding the actual production of the text, is more
or less unique for each text. The production of the text can be seen as a
communicative event, or a chain of communicative events. For genre-
bound changes, however, the other two frames are the most important,
the middle frame showing factors unique to each discipline and the
outer showing factors common to discourse during a certain period.
Turning to the middle frame, my claim is that in many respects,
each academic discipline has developed in its own specific way.
Theory bases are unique to each discipline, and have certainly not
been static in any discipline. Such changes in theory and in method-
ology can be assumed to be reflected in the related texts.
Disciplines differ in how long they have been established as sci-
ences. Medicine, seen as a whole, is an old science. Technology and
economics, on the other hand, are new and part of their evolution into
established academic disciplines has taken place since the end of the
nineteenth century. The process of becoming established can be seen
as a change of worlds from a professional world of work with its rules
to an academic world with its rules.
The professional situation is a third factor that is unique to each
discipline. The role and status of the main professions in the three
disciplines have changed. In 1980, doctors, engineers and economists
had a high status in society and played important roles. The picture
was, however, somewhat different in the eighteenth century and also
32
The Dynamic Relationship between Text and Context
at the beginning of the twentieth century, and these changes in the sta-
tus and role of the professions are liable to be reflected in the texts.
Texts in each discipline can thus be assumed to follow their own
specific courses of development due to their unique histories. In many
respects, however, their development may be assumed to be the same,
reflecting changes in society as a whole. As the outer frame shows
(Figure 3.1), I have chosen to distinguish five sectors within the soci-
etal framework: Academic community, professional life, educational
sector, public sector and private life. My claim is that these sectors are
relevant for variation and change at cognitive text level.
Figure 3.2 Cognitive worlds and sectors of society (Adapted from Figure 3 in
Gunnarsson, 1992a: 212)
33
Professional Discourse
34
The Dynamic Relationship between Text and Context
Phenomenon
Process
Change
Cause
Theory
Work
Practical world
Interaction
Phenomenon
Object world Part focused
Whole focused
Experience
Private world
Personal situation
Figure 3.3 Cognitive worlds, aspects and dimensions: state-descriptive text parts
(Adapted from Figure 6.2 in Gunnarsson, 1997a: 111)
35
Professional Discourse
universe for the medical discipline, one for the technical discipline,
one for the economic discipline, one for legal texts, one for business
discourse etc. Figures 3.4a and 3.4b show the object world and its
related categories for the medical discipline.
As mentioned above, the worlds and categories appear in variant
forms for each discipline. In the medical discipline, the practical
world becomes the hospital world and the object world becomes the
disease world. As for the categories, cause becomes medical cause,
object becomes disease, process becomes disease process and so on.
Figure 3.4a concerns elements of texts that are state-descriptive
and Figure 3.4b those of texts that are action-descriptive. The (time)
Phenomenon
Process
Change
Cause
Figure 3.4a Object world for the medical discipline. State-descriptive text parts
(Adapted from Figure 5a in Gunnarsson, 1992a: 217)
Change/Result
Phenomenon
Process
Cause
Figure 3.4b Object world for the medical discipline. Action-descriptive text parts
(Adapted from Figure 5b in Gunnarsson, 1992a: 217)
36
The Dynamic Relationship between Text and Context
Scientific world
(1) Muscular palsy is a possible explanation, and this has been
demonstrated up to six months after subcostal incisions.
(Aspect: Theory)
(2) But pneumothorax is quite commonly regarded as a result of
diagnostic or therapeutic measures or as a complication of compli-
cated or advanced lung disease.
(Aspect: Classification)
(3) During the period January 1977 until March 1978 29 patients
were treated in 36 different cases of pneumothorax using the
Heimlich valve (Table II).
(Aspect: Experiment)
Object world
(4) Tuberculosis is an infectious disease which is caused by a liv-
ing organism invisible to the naked eye, the tubercle bacillus, and
which occurs not only in human beings, but also in animals.
(Aspect: Phenomenon)
Practical world
(5) Insertion of the chest drain was preceded by premedication
with pethidine and careful local anaesthesia.
(Aspect: Work)
37
Professional Discourse
Private world
(6) For the first few days after the insertion of the drain, many
patients feel considerable pain.
(Aspect: Experience)
External world
(7) Introducing the simplified method of treatment proposed
would result in significant savings.
(Aspect: Measures)
38
The Dynamic Relationship between Text and Context
39
Professional Discourse
40
The Dynamic Relationship between Text and Context
comments on the disposition of the text. Under each of the other main
types of illocutions a set of subcategories was distinguished.
Informative: Describe
Assume
Explicative: Explain
Clarify
Compare
Conclude
Describe and explain
Describe and clarify
Directive: Recommend
Require
Prohibit
Permit
Request
41
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
somewhat at the sound of Sonya’s shrill voice.
We mounted past the stricken guards. They moved slightly; they
were recovering. At the top, I stood, and with vehement thoughts
commanded them to move aside. They swayed, moved a few steps,
like sleep-walkers.
“Hurry, Sonya! They’re recovering! Tell your girls to stay where
they are, down there! If they move, I’ll strike them as I struck the
guards. Tell them that!”
A lone hand! But I was winning. We came to the front of the
balcony stairway. The guards up there had vanished in fright. I
mounted the steep stairs, with Sonya close under me. Down on the
terrace top, the guards had recovered, but they were too frightened
to do anything but stare up at me.
I reached the balcony, moved to where there was no door behind
me, where I could not be attacked unawares. And I drew Sonya to
the balcony rail. Beneath us in the yellow moonlight the great throng
of men, the girls, and the vanquished guards stood silently gazing up
at me.
“Now, Sonya, I’ll talk to them! Tell them I am Leonard Gray, the
Earthman. Remind them that their king is dead; their prince is
captured by a horrible unknown enemy that menaces us all! Tell
your girls that they shall have justice. Tell the men that we are going
to rescue our prince! All of us united, not fighting one another.
“Tell them they have seen a little of my power. I want to use it
for them, for you all, not against you! All of us united to rescue our
prince. And until that is done—Leonard the Earthman is their ruler!”
XII
THE PRISONER IN THE CAVE
Jim had been received by the dying king. For what seemed hours
he sat with Ren in a castle room waiting to be admitted to the royal
bedside. To Jim it was irksome. He was afraid the king would die,
afraid something would go wrong, and we would all be held as
prisoners again.
But he finally saw the king. Jim took the oath of allegiance,
swore he would do what he could to rescue the prince.
They started back through the city streets. At this time I was
with the girls on the Island of the Virgins. The moon had just risen.
They were in the main lower street before our house. The moon
was still low at the horizon; its light was cut off by the houses. The
street lamp shone full on the railed flower bed, but close to the
buildings, under the pedestrian levels, the shadows were black. Jim
suddenly became aware of peering green eyes, a black shape that
leaped at him. Other shapes, with great wobbling heads.
A giant shape of human form had knocked Ren down. Another
struck Jim, bore him with its weight to the pavement. His senses
faded from a blow on the head, and blackness, smothered by
clanging gongs in his ears as he lost consciousness.
For a moment, after an interval of what length he never knew,
knowledge that he was still alive came to him. He seemed to
remember that a giant manlike shape with a bullet head had leaped
upon him. It had another head, huge, wobbling like a balloon. But
the large head had fallen off it; the large head lay on the ground,
with tiny arms supporting it.
The phantasmagoria of a dream. But Jim’s head was clearing
now, just a little. Something was holding him, and he could feel
movement—a rhythmic jogging. He opened his eyes. A city street
was passing. A great hairy arm was about his middle; he was being
carried by something that walked; being held horizontal, his head,
arms and legs dangling.
A giant, brown, hairy shoulder was over him; and above that, the
great bulge of a head—a smooth, dead-white inflated membrane—a
head that bounced and wobbled as the thing strode forward.
A brief consciousness, a vague, dreamlike impression, scarcely
strong enough to make a memory, and Jim’s senses again faded into
a black void of silence.
When Jim came fully to himself he was lying in a glow of yellow
moonlight. Beneath him was a smooth, curving metal surface. His
head ached horribly; a lump was upon it, and there was matted
blood in his hair.
He was sore, bruised all over, but with returning strength he
realized that he was not seriously injured.
He lay a moment, trying to remember what had happened, and
the memory came, distorted and vague. Over him spread the canopy
of stars, with a great yellow moon rising. The curving metal surface
beneath him was gently swaying. Was he on a boat? He was still no
more than half conscious. He murmured, “Ren! Ren!”
“Yes, Jim? Jim, is that you?”
Jim struggled up on one elbow. Ren was sitting hunched beside
him. Ren—alive, seemingly uninjured.
They were on a boat, lying in its bottom, a small, narrow metal
boat, six feet wide perhaps, and perhaps five or six times as long.
Its gunwale curved up two or three feet over Jim’s head. They were
lying in the narrowing of its bow.
Farther astern, in the yellow moonlight, were figures, brown,
hairy bodies—men; or were they giant gorillas? They had small
bullet-like heads, faces flat-nosed, with receding forehead and
receding chin, and two small eyes that blazed green.
Jim very slowly sank back, but in a posture where he could see
the length of the boat. The figures there were not animals; they
were men of brute force and brute intelligence. Four of them, with
powerful, hairy bodies, wide-shouldered, deep-chested, with short,
thick legs and very long arms.
They were clothed in what seemed trunks of animal skin, and a
skin fastened over the bulging chest to one shoulder. And each had a
broad, tightly drawn belt at his waist.
To Jim came the memory of his capture. It was no fantasy, his
memory of a hairy body, with a balloonlike, wobbling head. The four
huge heads were here now, in a group near the center of the boat.
Each was about four feet in diameter. A dead-white membrane, with
bulging, distended veins on a forehead, over a grotesque flat face.
Heads, belonging to these four bodies? Jim realized it was not
that. These were separate living entities, which had been riding
astride the shoulders of the four.
Intelligent, reasoning beings—it seemed monstrous to call them
men—beings which were nearly all brain, just as the others were
nearly all body, heads so distended that they sagged of their own
weight.
As he regarded them, Jim became aware that to each of the
great heads a shrunken semblance of body was attached. Two tiny
arms, which came out directly from the sides of the head, and were
now turned down, with hands pressing the boat to give balance.
From the wide, convex face, beneath what might have been a
bloated chin, a shriveled body dangled: a trunk and legs some two
feet long. They lay shriveled beneath the heads. Useless appendage!
But all of these shrunken, dangling bodies were clothed with colored
fabric, and upon the breast of one was an ornate metal ornament.
Jim whispered: “Ren?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. Something struck me. Then somebody, something
was carrying me. Men! I heard their voices. I tried to scream; a
hand went over my mouth. I knew we were captured. I thought—”
“Hush! Not so loud! They’re here . . . with us now.”
“I know. They were talking a while ago. They—hear them now,
Jim?”
Low, gutteral voices sounded back there—the brute men. The
brains, the balloon heads, were talking also, low, suave voices in a
foreign tongue.
“Jim! Jim, one of these men here in the boat with us—” Ren’s
voice held a quiver of fear. “He’s, Jim, I can receive thoughts now
. . . like Dolores did from a distance. It seemed, just a little while
ago, that I was getting Len’s thoughts. He was triumphant, exulting
over something. But it was gone. Then I—”
“You get the thoughts of someone here in the boat?”
“Yes. I guess so. Someone . . . the thought came to me that he
called himself Talon. I just now got it again. Talon. He’s been
studying thoughts from me. Putting them into my language. He’s
doing it now. It’s very easy for him, studying my thoughts, our
words . . . my words to you now. He can understand them.”
“Hear us now?”
“Yes. Or hear the thought of our words. We can’t escape! Can’t
do anything secretly! He’s laughing at us. He—”
Jim saw one of the heads raise itself up on its hands. Its
shriveled body hung limp, the body with the ornate cross on its
breast. The arms bent, then straightened with a snap; the head
bounded a foot or two in the air, landed again on its hands, and
again leaped.
It was hitching itself the length of the boat, its shriveled body
trailing after it. One of the giant, hairy brutes of men moved aside to
let it pass.
Jim whispered, “It’s coming!”
A revulsion of horror swept him—a repugnance to have this great
bloated head come near him. He strove to master the horror. This
was a man. Strange of form, but a living, mortal being. A man—an
enemy. Nothing supernatural, not gruesome, merely strange, an
enemy with whom he had to cope.
Jim sat up abruptly. His shoulder touched Ren’s. From down the
boat the bloated head came hitchingly forward. A few feet from Jim
and Ren it stopped, rested with a slight swaying upon the tiny body
hunched under it.
Jim stared into a huge, convex face: round green eyes, holes, a
circular rim of them, for nostrils, a wide mouth, thin-lipped. The
mouth seemed almost a human feature; it was smiling. A soft, suave
voice said,
“I . . . Talon.” And corrected itself, “I mean . . . I am Talon.”
It seemed to Jim in that instant that with those few spoken
words the thing itself had removed most of the horror with which its
outward aspect invested it.
A sense of relief swept over Jim. His tenseness relaxed. He said
slowly: “What do you want of us, Talon?”
“Yes . . . Talon.” His arm had a hand, with a sheaf of broad, flat
fingers. He pointed to the ornament hanging on the chest of his
shrunken body. “Talon . . . leader of my people.” He spoke haltingly,
groping with the unfamiliar words, and carefully, as though to avoid
error. “Called Talon. You . . . lie quiet and soon my words are more. I
study. Lie quiet . . . until I speak again.” He gestured. “Lie quiet, or
—”
Another more vehement gesture. It embraced Jim and Ren. Jim
understood the threat. The voice repeated very calmly, “You had
better lie down . . . now!”
The eyes seemed leaping pools of green fire.
They sank back. With his elbows slightly raising him, Jim watched
the head of Talon hitching itself to the stern of the boat.
The moon had risen high above the horizon. From where Jim lay
he could see its yellow, horn-shaped disk. That, and a narrow
segment of the star-strewn sky, was all that showed above the
gunwales of the boat. The stars rolled with a lazy swing; the boat
was throbbing, propelled evidently, by some invisible engine, over a
calm, rolling sea, and in the silence Jim could hear the water slipping
past the boat’s smooth sides.
He wondered how far from shore they were? If he and Ren, with
a leap, could plunge overboard, a mad, fool-hardy attempt, of
course, but still he must see where they were, try and plan
something.
“Ren?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“Move over a little. I’m going to get behind you and sit up, see
where we are, how far from shore.”
Jim cautiously raised his head. He half expected a command from
the rear of the boat. But none came.
They were on a broad expanse of calm water. The moon made a
yellow shimmering path into which they were heading. Jim sank
back. It would have been folly to have attempted an escape. For a
long time he and Ren lay quiet. An hour, perhaps, or more. The boat
sped rapidly on.
Its invisible engine made a hiss, and a line of bubbles rose from
its sides. Jim had noticed them when he sat up; the boat seemed
traveling on a continuous, rising mass of bubbles. There was a queer
acrid smell in the air from the gas of them.
Jim learned later from Talon the details of this boat. It was built
of metal which, with its load, would barely float. Beneath its hull was
a chamber through which the water circulated. A grid of wires was
there; a current heated the wires, decomposed the water into its
two component gases, hydrogen and oxygen.
The bubbles were buoyant. The rising flow of them lifted the
boat, so that in truth it skimmed forward upon the gas bubbles
beneath it. The generation of gases was controlled, so that the boat
floated high or low at will. The engine was similar. The forcible
ejection of gases from a tube extending under water from its stern
propelled it forward. The tube was movable, like a rudder, to give
direction.
An hour passed. Then the hairy brutemen who had been sitting
quiet got to their feet, fumbled at the gunwales. An oval metal cover
rolled from beneath the gunwales up like a canopy to enclose the
boat overhead.
Jim had taken a last swift look outside, before the arched metal
cover rolled and closed them in. The boat was now making for a
sheer wall of cliff that lay directly ahead.
But in one place, for which they were steering, the cliff dropped
sheer, unbroken into the water. Above the cliff, behind it, a jagged
mountain range stood yellow in the moonlight, tumultuous, naked
crags.
The cover closed overhead. A tiny green light winked on. Within
the boat, lurid in the green glow, the four brutemen moved about
with swift activity; the soft voice of Talon was directing them; his
great head was raised on his hands as he followed their movements.
They bolted the metal over, adjusted other mechanisms which
now came into use at the stern. A lessening of the flow of gas from
beneath the hull; the water filled the chamber there. The rear power
tube now pointed downward, to dip the bow. Other tubes, one on
each side below the water line, pointed upward, with powerfully
ejected streams of gas.
The bow of the boat dipped; it sank beneath the surface. Jim had
no idea then of the mechanisms, but he knew the boat was under
water. One of the great heads was busily adjusting a mechanism to
purify the air they were breathing. Another was seated at what
seemed a mirror; gazing ahead through the water, steering the boat
with his fingers on a row of buttons which governed the controls.
Another hour. Jim and Ren whispered occasionally. The boat was
speeding uninterruptedly beneath the surface. At last Jim called,
“Talon?”
“Yes. What is it?” the head of Talon answered him.
“Come here. You can talk better now, can’t you?”
Talon evidently was amused at the imperative tone. “Yes. I can
talk better now.”
He came hitching forward; his great face was broken by a
grotesque grin. “What is it?”
“Who are you?” Jim demanded. “What do you want of us? Where
are you taking us?”
Talon was willing to talk. He sat, his fingers toying with the metal
ornament, his head resting against the side of the boat for support.
He and his fellows were of a race which he called the Intellect. They
came from a distant world in the sky, a dark planet, satellite of one
of the remote suns up there.
Five thousand or more of them, adventurous Intelligences like
himself, had built a great ship and come to this foreign world. They
had landed in mountains, a wild, desolate country. Their ship had
been destroyed, irreparably broken in landing. They could not get
back.
There were, he explained, in this distant world two distinct races
of beings, those like himself, for countless ages bred to develop the
intellect so that their bodies shriveled and dwindled from disuse, all
their physical powers nearly gone. And another, quite opposite race,
bred for physical strength and power, the brutemen, of slight mental
capacity but powerful of body.
He gestured. “You see four of them? They do our bidding
unquestioned. They supply the body for us; we are the mind.”
“You ride on their shoulders,” said Jim.
Talon’s eyes gleamed. “We more than ride on them.” He showed
Jim where from beneath his head a ropelike sinew depended. “This
we fasten upon a nerve-center of their backs. Their little brain is
dulled, unconscious then of existence. Our brains take command.
“The body is ours, for the time! We can feel its physical power;
our brain animates it. We are one being. One entity when that
connection is made.”
Ren spoke up softly, “Why did you go to that city where you
captured us? Those people there haven’t harmed you. But you
captured their prince and princess.”
The huge face grinned with a look of cunning. “We cannot get
back to our world. We do not like these bleak mountains, these dark
caves where we have been living. We must have a better land, and
other people; we want to establish our own race. And there is little
food, here in the mountains. We began wandering, searching. We
brought this one boat with us from our own world.” He described the
workings of the boat, and went on. “One day I came upon that man
and that woman you call prince and princess. He says he is called
Altho. They escaped from me, climbed to a cliff. But we caught them
again finally.”
He paused. Then he added slowly: “The princess is dead now. I
did not want her to die . . . but the prince killed her.”
It brought a shudder to Jim. He said, cautiously, “What are you
going to do now? What do you want of us?”
“I was thinking that if you were important, like Prince Altho, to
this other world, I might offer to release all of you, not kill you, if
they would let us live among them in the city. But I have decided
now not to bother with that. I think, if you annoy us too much, we
shall kill you before we start.”
“Start where?” Ren demanded. His voice was steady.
“Start upon our attack. We brought little with us from our world,
a few devices and scientific supplies; but for all this time since we
arrived we have been manufacturing. It is difficult with so few
materials at hand. But we are nearly ready. When I return now, we
will start our last preparations.”
His voice rose to a sudden grim power, “We have prepared well
for this conquest. It is a beautiful land down there; the women, so
many of them like the princess, are very beautiful. The men, they
are not like you two—they are already afraid of us. Some have seen
us wandering near the cave entrances. They always run in terror.”
His chuckle had a horrible gloating. “They will be easy to kill. A
swift attack upon the city; we are almost ready for it now!”
The boat at last came to the surface; the cover rolled back; the
stars gleamed overhead as before, but the yellow moon had crossed
the sky and was falling to the horizon behind them. Jim saw that
they had come to the surface of a very small lake.
He could see all around its shore, a circular lake of black, cold-
looking water. It lay unrippled, smooth as polished black stone,
unbroken except as the boat’s gas bubbles rose, and by the V-
shaped waves the boat left behind it.
Around the shore was a ring of mountains. Bleak, naked cliffs of
rocks came down sheer to the water; behind them the mountains
rose in tumbled, serrated ranks, naked crags and spires, snow-
capped with yellow snow where the moonlight struck them.
Here in the remote mountain fastness, Talon had established his
stronghold. This was an isolated lake, which a subterranean boat
had been plowing.
At Jim’s elbow, Talon said, “These mountains seem to extend
back endlessly. But I have another base already established on the
Warm Sea, and from there I will make my attack. I have planned
well.”
Ahead of them, in one small place the mountains were broken. A
narrow canyon-like valley was open to the water, with a fringe of
black-sand beach. Cave mouths showed along the sloping valley
sides. Lights moved. The mouths of the caves were outlined by a
green-white glare from within.
The boat landed on the black beach. Brute figures crowded
around it in the fading moonlight, sinister giant figures. Huge
gruesome heads came bouncing forward over the sand. Voices
sounded. Questions. The voice of Talon shouted commands.
Half a hundred of the brutemen lifted the boat bodily from the
water, deposited it on the beach. Jim and Ren were carried up the
valley, and into the green glow of a cave mouth. Ren seemed
entranced.
Prince Altho faced Jim and Ren in the dimly lighted cave. Talon
had left them. At the cave-mouth, barely beyond sight and hearing
around an angle of its narrow entrance passage, two of the
brutemen stood on guard. Altho’s cave had been his home during
most of his captivity. Jim saw it as a small room of glittering black
rock, dimly lighted with pale green radiance from a ceiling tube from
which green-glowing wires depended.
There was a bed of skins, crude stone furniture, a mere slab of
rock for a table, upon which food now lay. Draped skins walled off a
corner where the bed was placed.
Altho could not talk with Jim, but he very soon established that
he was friendly. He was a man about Jim’s height, this prince, but
delicate, almost frail of build. A handsome square-jawed face, had
the delicacy of royalty stamped upon it. A high, white forehead was
topped with curly hair like pale gold.
He smiled and shook his head at Jim’s voluble words. He shook
hands with smiling puzzlement at Jim’s insistence. He seemed to
understand Ren’s condition.
They sat, earnestly trying with gestures and words to make each
other understand. Hours passed. Altho prepared some skins for
beds, and gestured that they should sleep. Ren lay down, but Jim
refused.
Another interval. A bruteman came with food. One of the heads,
like Talon, came hitching itself in, looked around, spoke to Altho, and
withdrew.
Jim ate some of the food. He had thought Ren was asleep, but
when he questioned him, Ren sat up at once.
“Jim, what are we going to do?”
Jim was wondering that himself, and wondering also what fate
Talon had in store for them. Abruptly Ren murmured,
“Awhile ago, Jim, I was sure I was getting someone’s thoughts.
Not Talon’s; he’s hiding them from me now. Someone like Len, or
Dolores. Or perhaps it was Sonya.”
Jim’s heart leaped. Something was impending! He sat between
them tensely; his hand touched Altho’s arm; his eyes flashed at
Altho with eager questioning.
Ren murmured, “I’ve got it now, Jim! It’s Sonya! She says, I am
Sonya. We know you are with Altho. I am getting his thoughts too!”
A silence. Altho sat cross-legged on the stone floor, as Jim and
Ren were sitting, with the stone slab of table before them; the green
glow of light nearby threw shadows behind them. Altho was sitting
with closed eyes, his hands to his temples. He looked up
momentarily; his gaze rested on Jim and Ren with a new
understanding, a new friendship.
Ren murmured, “She’s telling Altho about us. She says, Hold
connection! I’m telling him . . . he’s telling me—”
Altho’s lips were moving with his thoughts to Sonya. The girl,
over all this distance, was translating from the universal language of
thoughts for these two strangers at Jim’s elbow.
Ren added, “Altho says to us in his thoughts, Talon had promised
not to kill him; Talon now thinks he will be useful after our city of
Kalima is conquered. But one of Talon’s men—that head who was in
here a while ago—he said they had decided we all three were to die.
I’m asking Altho what he thinks we can do to escape.”
Altho raised his head at the question; his eyes searched Ren’s
face. His lips moved.
“Jim! Jim, she says, We are coming to try and rescue you! If you
or Altho can direct us . . . we’re coming . . . in the air now.”
Altho was on his feet. He seemed to be warning Sonya back.
“No!” cried Ren. “Altho says no, they must not come! But they’re
coming! Sonya and . . . she doesn’t say who’s coming.”
“What’s that?”
Altho and Jim stiffened. From the entrance passage a figure had
emerged, a giant, hairy bruteman. He stood with swaying, dangling
arms, green eyes blazing in the pale green cave light; a leer on his
small flat face, a black tongue like an animal’s, licking his black lips
with murderous anticipation!
XIII
CROWDED HOURS
“Sonya,” I exclaimed vehemently, “stay beside me! Don’t leave
me!”
How I cursed my inability to speak this language during those
crowded hours following the king’s death! At every turn, with every
move I was handicapped, the force of my words lost since I had only
a girl for mouthpiece.
Yet Sonya did well. The crowd in the garden had dispersed;
Sonya had led the girls into cheering me. I had made a speech
promising them justice in their cause, and sent them away, not to
the Virgins’ Island, but peacefully back to the homes they had left.
They were glad to go; there was no government now to force them
into a distasteful marriage.
The guards had come before me, at first with an indecision, a
sullenness, but the old men counsellors had swiftly abdicated.
“Tell them, Sonya, I want all their advice; whatever they think
should be done, I will listen.” I strode up and down the huge
audience chamber of the castle, while the old men watched me with
whispered, frightened words among themselves.
There was so much to do! I had made a speech to the men in
the garden before they dispersed. Our prince must be rescued. They
had a man of power and action leading them now.
My words, and perhaps my aspect as I stood up there in the
moonlight, aroused them to enthusiasm. They were men.
Courageous. Patriotic. They had never yet had a real leader. But they
had one now.
It stirred me, as I had stirred them, when I heard them cheering.
I summoned the chief of the guards before me, a slim, straight
young fellow with flashing eyes. When I demanded his allegiance—
he and all his fellows’—he swung on his heel to the old men who
were ranged along the side of the room. They nodded timorously,
and he turned back and bowed before me.
“Tell him, Sonya, that I want ten of his men always patrolling the
castle grounds. And others, he can use his judgment as to numbers,
patrolling the city. If there is any sign of disturbance, notify me at
once. I want the people all to go to their homes and stay there.”
There was so much that I did not know! “Sonya, are there any
cities beside Kalima?”
“No,” she said. “Only small villages. And there is the village on
the Virgins’ Island.”
I nodded. “I want messengers sent out, to tell everyone of the
change of government and a warning to beware of the Nameless
Horror. It is abroad; it may appear anywhere. Have the people in the
rural districts gather food and bar their homes, stay indoors. Sonya,
who has been in charge of organizing the army?”
She named him, but it transpired that there had been nothing at
all done, as yet, except a manufacturing of the weapons of war.
“Send him to me,” I ordered. “And the leader of the scientists—
he has been in charge of the manufacturing? I want to see him
also.”
Crowded hours! And I could not leave those girls on the Virgins’
Island; a few of them had remained there with the old women and
children. I ordered them all brought in; ordered such of them as
could to return to their former homes; the others were to be
quartered in the castle.
Hours of swift, decisive commands followed. And there was no
one in that busy castle, save possibly Sonya, who realized how I was
groping. The government I had seized—I was the king now—a
simple, primative organization, but to me, so ignorant of its
workings, it seemed complex indeed.
But I was learning. One by one, I had the leaders of its various
departments brought before me, and from each, though they did not
realize it, I learned a little more.
They were all very human. None were very hostile to the virgins;
many now hoped they would be given their way.
All were afraid of the Nameless Horror, but all loved their prince
very dearly. It seemed that I would have no trouble with internal
conditions.
Sonya soon realized it. Her voice carried a more commanding
ring. Poor little Sonya! After hours of translating, issuing my
commands, running my errands, she was on the verge of
exhaustion. But, as in us all, the spirit of battle was upon her. An
enemy was at our doors, and soon everyone realized that every
command I issued was to make us stronger to resist that enemy.
It had been well over an hour after my abrupt seizure of the
castle, before I even thought of Alice and Dolores. They were
unharmed. Sonya had kept them away from the castle steps; for half
an hour they had been in the room with me, watching and listening
with wide eyes and solemn faces, a half hour before I saw them.
They did not question, but ran to Sonya and me to be of such help
as they could.
Once Alice insisted, “You must rest, Leonard. You can’t keep this
up, you and Sonya.” I had never before seen the light of love for me
in her eyes, but I saw it then!
I had sent the girls into a castle room to sleep. At last I was
alone with food, and a hot stimulating drink, like coffee, before me. I
was seated at a table, in the king’s huge chair. I was the king. Alone
here in my audience room. Through the windows, the falling moon
threw a yellow glow. The time of sleep was nearly over. The city was
awakening; I could hear its voice awakening to the round of daily
activity.
My city now! But the thought brought no exultation. This new
day would be dark like the other. If the Nameless Horror were
abroad in the city—Had I not better form an armed street patrol?
And keep the people indoors? I needed more messengers.
The young men from the outlying districts must be ordered in to
enroll with my recruiting staff. Suppose the people outside of Kalima
revolted against me? Would I have to go out and overawe them with
the Frazier beam?
Maxite, the scientist was coming back to talk with me presently. I
thanked God that he at least had learned from Ren my language. So
much to do, and I was so tired!
My head fell to my hands on the table. Alone there at last in the
great, silent room, I fell asleep.
“Why—”
“You’ve been asleep, highness. I did not want to awaken you.”
Maxite sat across the table from me. I aroused myself, rubbing
my eyes, embarrassed at my undignified position. Maxite had
evidently been sitting there a long time, waiting for me to have my
sleep out. The moonlight was gone. The windows were black
rectangles, the stars hidden by dark-gray cloud masses. But the city
was awake, its new day now fully advanced.
Maxite smiled. He was a small, gray-haired man of middle age,
black-robed, with gray ruching at his throat and wrists, and with a
yellow ball ornament dangling from a chain at his neck. He said,
“Others, too, are waiting to have your orders, highness. But we
knew you needed rest.”
At the farther door of the large apartment a group of men and a
few girls were standing. One by one, I saw them. My chief of the
guards reported that the city seemed normal; the Nameless Horror
had not appeared. A messenger from the rural districts along the
Warm Sea said the people were frightened.
They were obeying my orders to stay indoors; but the young
men were demanding that I let them come at once to Kalima, to get
from me weapons with which to defend their families.
Three girls presented themselves, with a petition that the girls be
allowed to join my army. Five hundred names were on it. A fat,
affluent-looking individual, a wealthy land owner he told me, came
to present his claim to immediate marriage to a girl who was now
returned from the Virgins’ Island. I sent him brusquely away.
There was some confusion over the return of the refugees from
the island. Some of the infants could not be returned to their homes;
the mothers were afraid to have them. Some of the virgins lived in
the rural sections; they wanted their parents brought into the city for
greater safety. And some of the old women had not been welcomed
home, and had been brought to the castle.
I did my best to straighten it out. Enlistment in my army had
already begun. I interviewed three trainers of the military animals,
for use on land, in the water, and in the air. The animals were ready.
The mechanical equipment was very nearly complete.
I sent word to the rural districts for all young men to come in and
present themselves to my recruiting officers. And any family that
wished, could come also. I issued a proclamation to the city, that all
homes be prepared here in Kalima to care for at least one family of
refugees, at government expense if necessary.
Expense! My national treasurer was already in despair. I knew
almost nothing of my nation’s finances, but I did not admit it. I
would learn, devise some methods of raising money. Already a
dozen ways were springing to my mind. That fat, middle-aged
landowner, for instance, he and others like him would not be so rich
when I got my government properly operating.
Maxite and I were alone again. “Come,” I said. “I’m ready.”
We had planned that he would show me through the arsenal. I
wanted first to see the small hand weapons. Maxite had told me that
we had a room with a thousand or more electronic needle pipes, a
simple hand device which generations ago had been used for
hunting birds.
The army would be equipped with it, Maxite planned. I thought,
too, if it were sufficiently simple, I would send it into the rural
districts, so that each home might be armed for defense.
“I want also,” said Maxite, “to show you our aerial image-finders.”
These, which he had already described, I needed at once. Our
enemy—I still could only call it the Nameless Horror—probably had a
base near Kalima. Prince Altho perhaps was in captivity there; Jim
and Ren, if they were alive, might be there also. This aerial device
might enable me to locate the enemy base.
Maxite and I were descending into the lower floors of the castle.
We passed rooms where the refugees were huddled. Girls had been
organized to care for them. On another, still lower floor, I saw my
guard pacing back and forth through dim stone corridors. We were
now below the terrace level, but higher than the level of the back
street.
We descended other floors, came to a narrow dark corridor. This,
Maxite told me, was at the street level of the back castle wall. I
remembered walking along that curving street, at the base of the
wall, remembered a small door there.
“It’s here,” said Maxite.
We stood in a dim blue radiance at the intersection of two
corridors. Ahead lay a floor-opening, where down a flight of curving
stone steps was the entrance to the first of the subterranean arsenal
rooms. To the right, a branching passageway led to the small street
gateway.
“A guard is there,” said Maxite, “armed with a fire-flash for close-
range work. He could kill anyone who came near him. Oh Grett!”
He called the guard but there was no answer. His soft voice
echoed between the narrow passage walls. We hastened to the gate
door. The guard was not there! But in the darkness we heard a
sound. Maxite’s hand-wire in its blue tube flung a faint beam around
us. On the stone flagging a figure lay twisting. We had heard the
scrape of its movement. It was the guard, lying there bound and
gagged!
XIV
FUGITIVES IN THE STARLIGHT
I had sent Alice, Sonya and Dolores into one of the castle
bedrooms. They were all tired and overwrought with the excitement
through which they had passed. A dream awakened Sonya, after
how long an interval she did not know—several hours undoubtedly.
She dreamed she had been talking with Prince Altho: he was in a
cave; Jim and Ren were with him.
For a long time Sonya lay pondering. Then she awakened the
other two girls.
“Listen, I want to go and try and rescue Altho.”
She told them her plan. They could take a small flying platform,
with a few birds. Once away from the city, the distraction of the
thought-waves of all its people, she would be able to communicate
with Altho or with Ren. Communicate with them, find them—rescue
them!
A mad, impossible adventure, perhaps, but to the girls it looked
feasible.
“Oh, Alice, oh, Dolores, shall we try it? Leonard will be many
days getting his army together. That is too dangerous, to wait so
long.”
Dolores turned to her with shining, tearful eyes. “If I could only
get to Jim, help him to safety.”
Sonya had other plans. She could get weapons, a small weapon,
the electronic needle pipe. She knew where they were kept, and
how to use them.
“I heard Ren discussing it one day with Maxite the scientist. And
there are image-finders stored in the same room. I think I know how
to use them.”
The girls decided to try it. They slipped unobserved from the
room. Sonya found them long, hooded black cloaks. In the darkness,
mingled with the confusion of arriving refugees, they got out of the
castle without being recognized.
“Where are we going?” Dolores whispered. They were all three
tense with excitement. Sonya had turned toward the rear of the
castle, into the dimly lighted street along the base of the wall.
“A gate-door here,” she whispered. “It is guarded by Grett. Quiet!
Stand close beside me, but do not speak. But be ready to do what I
say. Soon we will have the weapons.”
In the castle bedroom, before leaving, Sonya had tom a garment
into long, narrow strips, a staunch, tough fabric. She handed the
strips now to Alice. At the small door in the wall, they paused.
“Keep behind me,” Sonya whispered. “Over there in the shadow.
But be ready.”
The street along here was dark; it was a street little used and at
the moment it was empty. Sonya knocked boldly on the door.
“Grett! Oh, Grett!”
In her own language from within came the muffled question,
“Who is there?”
“It’s Sonya.”
“Yes?”
“Open the door.”
“No. I must not.”
“It’s only Sonya. Don’t you know my voice?”
“Yes. What do you want?”
“I’ve news from Ren. He is . . . oh Grett, you must let me show
you.”
There was the sound of dropping metal bars. The doors opened
cautiously a trifle.
Sonya put her hand casually on the door. “It’s only Sonya, Grett.
See here what I have.”
She tugged at the door. The guard was revealed, standing with
the leveled metal pipe in his hand. Sonya touched the weapon. “Turn
that away, Grett. It . . . frightens me!”
There was a low cry, a scuffle. Sonya had snatched the pipe. She
leaped backward, swung it level.
“Don’t move, Grett! Don’t make a sound! If you do I . . . I’ll kill
you!”
“Sonya!”
“I’m desperate! Can’t you see it? Get back in there!” She called
softly, “Alice! Dolores! Here! Come inside, quickly.”
She had backed the frightened, surprised young man into the
corridor, with leveled weapon and crisp menacing words. In the glow
of the passageway’s single light, she held the weapon while Alice
and Dolores bound the man’s legs and arms with the strips of fabric.
Sonya gagged him, and they rolled him along the floor to the wall
and left him.
Alice was grim and pale, frightened at what they had done.
Dolores was trembling. “We haven’t hurt him, have we?”
Sonya bent down, loosened the gag a trifle. “No, he’s all right.
Lie quiet, Grett. And when they find you, tell them you’re not to
blame. Sonya tricked you. We may be back by then, anyway, and I’ll
take the blame.”
The girls hurried down the corridor, down the stone steps into
the arsenal room. Sonya had been here once before with her uncle.
The place was dark, but Sonya found a hand-wire and Alice carried it
above her head. Its light glowed dimly blue, in a big room of
fearsome shadows. Overhead they could hear the faint tramp of a
guard. Every moment they expected to be discovered.
Sonya seized one of the electronic needle pipes, and the range
apparatus with which to operate it. And a large metal cylinder in
which was packed a group of image finders and their aerial controls.
With their loot under their cloaks, the girls hastily retreated. At the
gate-door they switched off the corridor light. Sonya murmured,
“Good-bye, Grett!”
They closed the gate-door after them. From the outside it
appeared barred. With the cloaks shrouding them they hurried to
Sonya’s home.
In a moment they had six birds harnessed to a small platform,
and were in the air.
Within the cave, Altho, Jim and Ren faced the giant murderous
intruder. The bruteman stood licking his lips, an imbecile leer on his
face.
There was a brief silence.
Altho spoke soft, soothing words to the hairy giant, and then
ripped out a sharp command. It went unheeded. The bruteman’s
dangling hand came up to his belt. But never reached it.
Jim screamed an exclamation to Ren, and leaped. His body
struck the bruteman full, a solid impact which would have flung Jim
back, but the giant’s huge arm went around him, lifted him like a
child. As he went up, he flung his arms around the thick, hairy neck
and clung.
His feet were high in the air as the bruteman straightened with a
savage, surprised cry. He tried to shake Jim off, but Jim clung with
one arm, with the other hand he gouged at the giant’s face.
Altho had leaped. The giant kept his feet, swaying, kicking; he
stopped, and with an upflung arm, dashed Jim’s body away. But Jim
was back at him again, he and Altho, now, clinging, kicking,
gouging.
And then Ren. The harrassed giant, fighting with scarce the
intelligence of a man, staggered across the cave with Altho and Jim
clawing at him. Their bodies struck Ren, and scrambling in the dark,
he caught a great hairy leg and wound himself around it.
In the pale-green glow of the cave, the giant bruteman surged
about. He tripped, went down, with the three men pounding on top
of him.
Jim shouted, “We’ve got him!”
But the giant was up, shaking them off, first one, then another,
tearing them loose, flinging them back. But always they returned to
claw at him. They fought silently, grimly, but the giant roared.
Harrassed, frightened, Altho had torn his belt away and flung it
aside. The giant stood panting, looking around to see where it had
gone. Altho was gripping his thick middle firmly with both hands;
Ren was wound about his legs.
Jim had been flung away again. He was picking himself up, but
he stopped. He had seen a jagged, metallic projection of the cave-
wall. It seemed loose. Jim tugged at it. The swaying bodies surged
past him. He tugged, worked it loose. It came free; in his hand he
held a heavy, jagged chunk of black metal.
“Ren! Work him over this way! Over here . . . here!”
Jim leaped to the slab of table for greater height. The giant’s
back was to it. Jim could not talk to Altho, and Altho could not see
him. But he could hear Jim’s reiterated call.
The bruteman tried to turn toward the insistent voice, but Altho
now understood and distracted his attention. And Ren at his legs,
was pushing him backward. A step; then another.
They came within reach of the table. Jim leaped into the air. He
struck the giant’s back; his hand went up, and the heavy chunk of
metal caught the bruteman full on the back of the skull.
He toppled, fell, writhing, jerking a moment, then lay still.
They disentangled themselves from him, and stood up. They
were all three bruised and winded. There was a jagged cut on Jim’s
forehead; he dashed the blood from his eyes.
“Let’s get out of here! Now’s the time! Now, or never!”
Altho’s pale face smiled at him questioningly.
Jim gestured. “Out . . . get out of here!” He added, “The belt.
What’d you do with the belt?”
The giant’s weapons. Altho could not understand the words, but
Jim saw the belt. He leaped over the huge, motionless body. Outside
the cave an uproar sounded.
Altho called a warning; he was gesturing vehemently at Jim to
come. Jim seized a small metal object at random from the giant’s
belt, an egg-shaped thing of white metal: a muzzle-projection, a
handle and a trigger.
Lights were moving nearby in the darkness with a confusion of
voices. The second of the giant guards at Altho’s cave had run away
in fear. He was shouting, gathering other guards around him. The
huge heads were bouncing forward over the rocks; calling
commands. The brute-bodies were running to them, each to his
master. The heads were mounting.
Jim turned to the right, up the valley. They were momentarily in
darkness, open metallic ground up a rocky slope, stars overhead,
lights and confusion behind them.
They ran. Jim had handed the giant’s weapon to Altho, thinking
he would know better how to use it. They ran swiftly. A tiny light to
one side picked them out, then it vanished. Jim pulled them sidewise
to change their course. Ren stumbled over the rocks as they ran, but
they kept him on his feet.
Jim panted, “A cliff . . . over there! We can climb it . . . or hide.”
Altho glanced back. The lights were rushing on up the valley. The
fugitives were running between jagged, tumbled boulders; Jim
thought they had eluded the pursuit. But suddenly ahead of them, a
head rose on its hands from behind a crag.
Jim jumped for it. He struck it. His fist struck the great face
between its green blazing eyes. The face smashed, cracked like the
shell of an egg. Noisome! His fist sank into a soft pulpy mass. He
jerked it free. The head rolled backward, the arms waving.
“Come on,” Jim shouted. He wiped his fist and arm on his jacket:
noisome, horrible!
“We’re on the ledge, Ren . . . can’t climb out of the valley. It’s too
steep.”
“Are they following us?”
“No. I can see lights going up the valley. Altho seems to want to
lie here, not try to climb higher. If only I could talk to him.”
“I’m trying to get Sonya’s thoughts, Jim.”
They lay on a dark ledge; a fifty foot drop was before them, a
sheer perpendicular wall. They had climbed beside it, where the
ground was broken. Over the ledge, some ten feet above it, was
another broader space with what seemed a cave-mouth behind it.
The crags were dim in the starlight; black gulleys, ravines were
everywhere. Below them spread the valley floor. Lights which
marked the pursuit had gone past.
For a time the three fugitives lay quiet. Jim’s mind went back to
the cave from which they had escaped. Two of the brutemen had
been on guard.
These brutemen were hardly more than animals, like tigers with
a lust for human blood. One had murderously entered the cave; the
other, listening, had become frightened and decamped, giving the
alarm.
Jim whispered impatiently, “Ren, can’t you get any thoughts from
Sonya?”
“No. I’m trying. I feel . . . I feel that Altho is getting them.”
It seemed so. Altho was lying with his head down on his hands.
Once he uttered a suppressed exclamation, and then he was
murmuring as though to himself.
“You’re right. He’s getting them,” Jim muttered. “Try again, Ren!”
Abruptly Ren exclaimed, “They’re coming! Sonya, with Dolores
and Alice.”
“Do they know where we are?”
“They’re trying to find us. Sonya says they haven’t seen any
lights yet to mark our valley. Altho has been trying to direct them.”
“Well, for a while we’re safe here. They—”
Jim never finished. From down the valley, by the cave-lights of
Talon’s encampment, a ball of fire mounted slowly upward, a tiny,
blazing white ball. It rose in a slow arc, and suddenly burst with a
blinding white glare.
The valley, the crags, the ledge upon which the fugitives lay were
all momentarily brilliantly illumined. Jim saw that beneath them in
the valley a hundred of the mounted heads were gazing upward.
And he knew too, that they had been seen upon the ledge.
A shout arose; a rush of the figures to climb. But a voice, Talon’s
voice, seemed commanding them to stop. Farther down the valley,
brutemen were dragging forward a heavy piece of apparatus, a huge
gun-muzzle on wheels, the muzzle pointed vertically upward.
Jim leaped to his feet. “We’ve got to get higher! Try to get to that
cave overhead.”
But Altho pulled him back. Altho still held the weapon Jim had
taken from the giant. He gestured with it. Jim sank back.
There was something going on down there in the valley. Jim
wondered if the weapon Altho had was of any use at this distance.
Altho seemed absorbed in thought communication. Suddenly from
over the cliff-tops across the valley, a small pink ball of light came
sailing, floating out over the valley in a huge segment of circle, a
thousand feet in the air.
A glowing pink ball; a concentrated radiance seeming to whirl
upon its axis, with tiny crescent streamers of light as it whirled. It
sailed in a curve above the valley, growing dimmer, as though
burning itself out, until in a moment it vanished.
Jim stared. But Altho knew what it was. He leaped to his feet.
XV
THE RESCUE
The small flying platform, with the girls prone upon its fur
covering, sailed up from Sonya’s home and over the city. The stars
were obscured by gathering black clouds, a threatening storm, but it
did not break. Sonya headed the birds for the Virgins’ Island.
They passed a thousand feet above it where a barge drawn by
swimming sea animals below was bringing the women and children
back to Kalima. Sonya had only the general direction of where she
wanted to go, the length of the Warm Sea toward the distant
mountains and caves. The Nameless Horror had been seen always in
that direction.
The girls lay silent. Sonya was in constant, though sometimes
vague communication with Altho. She knew the captives were in a
cave; then she got the thoughts clearer, and got Ren’s thoughts also.
But suddenly all the thoughts were broken.
The threatening storm passed. The moon was below the horizon.
But the stars came out clear and bright. The girls were calmer now,
grim with purpose. Sonya began connecting their scientific
apparatus, explaining it as well as she could.
The electronic needle pipe was a foot-long metallic pipe with a
diameter the size of a small human finger. It had a large, round-
metallic base, to be operated by two hands.
It projected a very small stream of electrons, which carried with
them a tiny, sharp-pointed fragment of metal, like a needle. The
needle flew with nearly the speed of light, expanding. But when it
struck it solidified.
There was a range finder for aiming, and a device for curving the
electronic stream, so that the beam could be sent to almost any
degree of curvature. In her heart, though she did not confess it even
to herself, Sonya was dubious of her ability to use the weapon.
She knew she could not aim it with any degree of skill. And she
did not know its range. This needle pipe was a very small size
projector, with a range, she thought, effective only a few hundred
feet.
The girls were now beyond the Warm Sea, flying over a broken,
mountainous country, black and desolate looking in the starlight.
Altho’s thoughts were with Sonya again. They had never been as
clear as this before. A fight, an escape, a dark ledge with a valley
below it. There were lights in the valley.
But where, in all this dark, mountainous waste, was that valley?
Sonya believed she was flying toward it. She had several times in the
last hour altered the direction of the flight. Altho’s thoughts, a dim
feeling of his approaching nearness, seemed to guide her.
It was very vague, an intuition more than a thought. Altho
himself did not know where he was, but the bond of love between
these two was very strong. Each could feel the other’s approaching
presence. He had tried to warn her away, but when she persisted,
he did his best to guide her.
Sonya murmured, “Now he says, Lights in the valley—you will see
the lights.”
But every desolate valley sweeping beneath them was pale and
wan in the starlight. Then Sonya prepared an image-finder. She
connected the batteries, the projector, and the grid of glowing wires.
Alice and Dolores held the grid between them. Sonya fired the
small projectile. It sailed off, a whirling pink ball. It was in reality a
small, flat disk with a lenslike eye and a whirling, pink, glowing
armature on top.
Over a radius of several miles Sonya’s raytron apparatus could
direct its flight, and back over the invisible connecting ray came an
image of all that the lens eye saw.
The pink ball of light sailed ahead and soon was lost to view. The
grid of wires which Alice and Dolores held glowed pink; then
suddenly glared white. A glare of white showed ahead in the sky. It
was the light flare Talon had sent up to locate the fugitives.
The flare went dark. The grid was pink again. Upon it, etched in
black, was a moving scene: mountains, crags, valleys, moving in
slow panorama, valleys all pale and empty in the starlight. Then one
showed dim, moving lights!
Alice cried, “Sonya . . . lights! We see them now!”
Sonya’s apparatus marked the position of the pink ball. She
turned the birds slightly, to fly after it.
The platform was almost over the valley. Sonya sent out another
pink disk. The girls bent over the grid, staring at the tiny movement
image; a dim, starlit valley. At the bottom of it, a group of busy
figures and a giant projector muzzle pointing vertically upward.
The girls watched the grid breathlessly. Its image, moving with
constantly changing viewpoint, was clearly etched, but dim and very
small: a cliff ledge with three figures upon it. From the ledge
suddenly a small red ring of fire leaped out. It sped downward,
struck a rock, and vanished with a puff.
It was Altho firing the weapon Jim had taken from the giant; in a
moment the still distant girls heard a report, like a tiny clap of
thunder, the sound of the red ring striking the rock. Down in the
valley the giant muzzle of the vertical projector began issuing a
stream of green light.
It mounted a hundred feet, sprayed out like a fountain column of
water. From the ground, huge black figures tossed a balloon head
into the column of light. The head rose, surged upward, until at the
top it hung in the light spray, balancing itself like a ball held at the
top of a jet of water.
It was all very swift, a moment or two while the girls stared at
the glowing grid. The head was nearly level with the ledge. In the
green light Altho’s figure showed plainly; he was standing at the
ledge, firing his red rings of flame.
But they were futile now. They floated slowly, and from below,
some hidden marksman was catching each of them with an upflung
pencil point of black light, a narrow beam, so dead black that it
showed clearly in the night. It caught the red fire rings; its rays
exploded them harmlessly in the air.
The grid went dark; the second lens disk had burned out. But the
platform itself now swept over the valley. The reality of the image
scene was spread beneath the girls. Sonya saw the ledge was large
enough to land upon; she guided the birds toward it.
She raised the electronic needle projector, fired it with a futile
aim and then cast it away. There was no time for her to attempt to
use it further. Her birds were swooping for the ledge, and they
needed her guidance. A moment, and they would be there.
But too late! The head in the fountain of green light held
something in his hands. A hum rose over the valley. Altho, standing
on the ledge, suddenly flung up his arms. His weapon fell from him.
He toppled, seemed trying to draw himself backward. But could not.
And then, forward from the ledge his struggling figure floated
into the air. On the ledge, Ren and Jim were frantically clinging to
avoid being drawn after him. The hum rose to a shrill whine.
In what seemed a whirlpool of air, or the levitation of an invisible
magnetic stream, Altho was drawn to the head on the supporting
green light beam. The green light slowly diminished.
The head, with arms holding Altho’s unconscious body, was
lowered to the ground. A voice down there shouted hurried
commands. The lights all went out sharply. In the starlight, Altho’s
body was surrounded by dark surging figures, and dragged away.
The platform swooped to the ledge, landed with a thump.
“Jim! Jim! Are you all right?” It was Dolores’s anxious voice. But
Sonya was cold, shuddering. All her hopes were vanished. She knew
that they could not go down into the dark valley, with all those
armed figures entrenched in the caves. Altho was lost to her.
Jim and Ren rushed to the platform. There was a moment of
confused greeting. Jim never knew how it quite happened, but from
the other ledge, ten feet above them, a head like Talon suddenly
leaped down. It flashed to Jim that the head must all this time have
been laboriously climbing in the darkness. Or perhaps had followed
some underground passage to the cave up there.
Dolores was standing slightly apart from the others. The head
seized her. On the upper ledge a giant bruteman was leaning down;
the head tried to lift Dolores to where the dangling arms of the
bruteman could reach her, arms which would have pulled her and
the head both up to the upper ledge.
It happened so quickly, it was so utterly unexpected, that Jim
and the other two girls were for an instant stricken with surprise.
Dolores screamed. It was the first that they knew of her peril. She
called, “Jim! Jim!”
But Ren was closer. He leaped before Jim, leaped in the dark for
the girl’s terrified voice. He struck the head with his shoulder. His
groping arms tore Dolores away.
There was a spurt of flame from some weapon the head was
carrying. It caught Ren in the chest, drilled him. He fell backward,
lay motionless. But he had saved Dolores from her captor. Jim and
Alice had reached her.
The bruteman leaned swiftly down. The head held up one of its
small arms. The bruteman drew his master to the upper ledge, with
a jerk as though he were raising a large, light ball. In the valley they
were trying to raise another beam of the green light.
Jim was carrying Dolores; he threw her to the platform and
dragged Ren’s inert body aboard, with Alice grimly helping him.
Sonya screamed at the birds.
From above, the head was sending down tiny spurts of flame.
They struck the fur coverings with the acrid smell of burning hair.
Jim flung the girls behind him; every moment he expected that the
flame jets would strike him.
It was only an instant, then the platform lifted, sailed away. The
ledge dropped beneath it. The dark, seemingly deserted valley
dropped and merged into the tumbled mountain waste.
The platform struggled on, sailing low. It was the Virgins’ Island
now. The moon was rising again with its flood of yellow radiance.
Ahead, toward Kalima, they saw a blob in the sky.
It was the large flying platform I had hastily equipped and
armed, coming out over the city to seek them.
But Ren was dead.
XVI
DEPARTURE FOR BATTLE
We were ready at last for our attack upon Talon’s forces. The
night had passed, and another long day, and night had come again.
Jim’s return, with what he had to tell us about Talon, was of
immeasurable help to me. I knew now what I was facing.
It was tremendously helpful also in arousing public enthusiasm
for the war. The Nameless Horror was nameless no longer. The
people recognized that a savage enemy was at their threshold, men
who would have to be fought and conquered.
I did not want a large fighting force, but I wanted it well armed
and trained, armed for defense also against what I could guess
Talon’s weapons might be. Jim had seen something of them.
I sent out scouting platforms with the aerial image finders. But
they brought me little information, for presently Talon realized what