Authentic Science Fiction, No. 23 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

64. THE SINGING SPHERES cannot be. A red sphere must rule Kardoon. So it has been ordained since time immemorial.” The Mattus oozed despair, and J felt my heart sink. I | thought it could go no lower—but it slumped right down into my boots when we looked through the entrance into the big cave and saw all the guards waiting there. CHAPTER TEN The Place of Execution T really seemed as though the prophecies of that uncanny Machine of Revelation were coming true—with Mak- kub’s evil help or otherwise. | They hauled us up to the surface in a nightmare journey during which they weren’t particularly gentle. Worst part was the terrible climb from that prodigious cavern—tar more horrifying in reverse—and what we'd have done if Hartnell had not left the line in position beats the imagination. Even so, we could not move fast enough to satisfy the guards, who every now and then gave us a jolt with their force-beams. I kept wondering all the time whether they might hit the Mattus or the gravity reactor. Once Hartnell slipped twenty feet down the line, despite the safety clip, but the guards acted like lightning and hauled him back in position immediately. I heard his frenzied yell of warning over the inter-com and paused, heart in mouth, until he was climbing again. Then I reflected how typical it was of the young devil that even in the moment when near- disaster came upon him he thought of Tubby and myself, toil- ing on lower sections of the line, whom he might take crash- ing with him to the bottom of that awful void. Continually we climbed, accompanied by the cluster of hovering, impatient moons where guards held Fuzzy-bubble and Fandar in custody. At last we were able to wriggle THE SINGING SPHERES 65 through the rough, narrow aperture and stood trembling and exhausted once more in the smaller tunnels. A sudden scuffiing and protest from Hartnell made me cry in alarm. “What’s the matter?” | “These damned bubbles won’t let me reel in the Karlin line! Tell °em we’ve got to get it back—” The guards refused to wait. “Let it go,” I said, wearily. “What’s it matter now?” Come to that, what did anything matter?” “Very well,” said Hartnell, between his teeth. “Good Juck to ’em when they try to haul us up that steep side to find the cliff entrance, that’s all! Il make ’em use up a year’s ration of energy!” | And in actual fact, while they bustled us painfully through the Great Halls, up those awkward apertures and down the other side, we saw our first death on Kardoon. A guard, who had been notoriously zealous with his pushing and shoving, moved away from our little group and hovered indecisively for a few moments, his greenish radiance flickering slightly. It was, as Hartnell said afterwards, like a man wondering whether he was going to be sick or not. Next instant the sphere had gone—no noise, no silent flash—just nothing—as though an old-style electric bulb had been switched off. “Well,” said Tubby, philosophically, “so much more work for the others.” | The remaining guards treated the incident as perfectly nor- mal, taking no notice, and brought us eventually to the cliff- face. They appeared to think we were being deliberately awkward in not climbing that frightful, steep curve of smooth rock and gave us a very rough journey. Once, during the up- ward haul, J bumped so violently that I thought my shoulder was dislocated. They pulled us unceremoniously to the entrance with force-beams from above, making Hartnell re- mark that it was “like being slung out of a Z-bar by the scruff of the neck.” At last we stood under Kardoon’s uneasy pink sky, with its dry heat pressing down on us gratefully after the cold, clammy atmosphere of the catacombs. “A nice change,” Hartnell agreed. “Pity we shan’t have a chance to get really used to it—” They took us back along the rocky defile to where the wide plain stretched its four miles of parched rock to hills on the ‘4 Gomilcboo ‘S;€O