Astounding British Edition, Volume 8, No. 11 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE SPECTER GENERAL occupied by a set of great bronze doors. He turned and started to retrace his steps. He had almost reached the main corridor when he heard angry voices sounding from it, He peeked cautiously around the corridor. His escape route was blocked by two officers engaged in acrimonious argument. Neither was too sober and the captain ob- viously wasn’t giving the major the respect that a field officer usually commanded. “TI don’t care what she said!” the captain shouted. “I saw her first.” The major grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back against the wall. “It doesn’t matter who saw her first. You keep away from her or there’s going to be trouble!” The captain’s face flushed with rage. With a snarl he tore off the major’s breech- cloth and struck him in the face with it. The major’s face grew hard and cold. He stepped back, clicked his calloused heels together, and bowed slightly. “Axes or fists?” “Axes,” snapped the captain. “May I suggest the armory anteroom?” said the major formally. “We won’t be disturbed there.” : “As you wish, sir,” said the captain with equal formality. “Your breechcloth, sir.” The major donned it with dignity and they started down the hall toward Kurt. He turned and fled back down the corridor. In a second he was back in the anteroom. Unless he did something quickly he was trapped. Two flaming torches were set in brackets on each side of the great bronze door. As flickering pools of shadow chased each other across the worn stone floor, Kurt searched desperately for some other way out. There was none. The only possible exit was through the bronze portals. The voices behind him grew louder, He ran forward, grabbed a projecting handle, and pulled. One door creaked open slightly and with a sigh of relief Kurt slipped inside. There were no torches here. The great - hall stood in half darkness, its only illumi- nation the pale moonlight that streamed _ down through the arching skylight that formed the central ceiling. He stood for a - Moment in awe, impressed in spite of him- self by the strange unfamiliar shapes that loomed before him in the half-darkness. He was suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of voices in the anteroom. “Hey! The armory door’s open!” “So what? That place is off limits to everybody but the C.O.” 13 “Blick won’t care. Let’s fight in there. There should be more room.” * Kurt quickly scanned the hall for a safe hiding place. At the far end stood what looked like -a great bronze statue, its burnished surface gleaming dimly in the moonlight. As the door swung open behind him, he slipped cautiously through the shadows until he reached it. It looked like a coffin with feet, but to one side of it there was a dark pool of shadow. He slipped into it and pressed himself close against the cold metal. As he did so his hipbone pressed against a slight protrusion and with a slight clicking sound, a hinged middle section of the metallic figure swung open, exposing a dark cavity. The thing was hollow! Kurt had a sudden idea, “Even if they do come down here,” he thought, “they'd never think of looking inside this thing!” With some difficulty he wiggled inside and pulled the hatch shut after him. There were legs to the thing—his own fit snugly into them—but no arms. The two officers strode out of the sha- dows at the other end of the hall. They stopped in the center of the armory and faced each other like fighting cocks. Kurt gave a sigh of relief. It looked as if he were Safe for the moment. There was a sudden wicked glitter of moonlight on axeheads as their weapons leaped into their hands. They stood frozen for a moment in a murderous tableau and then the captain’s axe hummed toward his opponent’s head in a vicious slash. There was a shower of sparks as the major parried and then with a quick wrist twist sent his weapon looping toward the captain’s midriff. The other pulled his axe down to ward the blow but he was only partially successful. The keen obsidian edge raked his ribs and blood dripped darkly in the moonlight. As Kurt watched intently he began to feel the first faint stirrings of claustro- phobia. The Imperial designers had planned their battle armor for efficiency rather than comfort and Kurt felt as if he were locked away in a cramped dark closet. His malaise wasn’t helped by a sudden realization that when the men left they might very well lock the door behind them. His decision to change his hiding place was hastened when a bank of dark clouds swept across the face of the moon. The flood of light that poured down through the skylight-sud- denly dimmed until Kurt could barely make COMmmicooolxs (CO) AM