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HE FIRED!
Set at maximum blast, the recoil was terrific. It almost tore the weapon from his hand! He pressed the trigger for automatic fire, always on the target. It was like cushioning yourself against a brick wall with a palm. The sled and his body slowed. Blowing sand into a molten turmoil, he halted ten feet in the air. He turned the weapon sideways and blew himself twenty feet to the left of the self-manufactured lava. He hit. He let go of the sled and stood up gingerly. Nothing bruised but his pride. Then-
CRRRRRUUUUUMP!
He was knocked flat! A tremendous concussion wave had gone over him. The ground was shaking! Dazed, he looked up through the rushing dust. The yellow haze! Three miles to the south! The mountaintop, still travelling upward, had curved over in a parabola and, carrying its warped space, had struck! It had not exploded. Underneath that yellow mantle of warped space there must be a hole in the desert floor as big as any ever made by a meteor-no, an asteroid! Thank Heavens it had not been travelling very fast! The secondary concussion waves were washing over him. The shock waves still travelled through the ground: he could hear them rumbling into the distance. Then he saw the tug. It had flown even higher into the air after he had abandoned it. It was falling in crazy spirals as though in pain. It almost righted itself. Flames were spouting from the gaping holes in the shattered hull. It tried to stand and then fell over onto its back. It struck! A flash of fire like a supernova was followed by a bloom of red. He was on his knees when this one hit him but it sent him skidding back. Poor tug. He wondered if it had had anything to say as it expired. It certainly was giving itself a soldier's funeral-all flame and smoke! Then suddenly he realized that all this commotion would be visible for miles! It could not help but bring him company! Dangerous!
The dust was dying down. His sense of location was working now. He had come halfway back to Camp Endurance! Poor old tug had been doing its job all too well! Then he saw a plume of dust. It was no wind demon. The glare of the sun was ferocious, like hammer blows. Heller cleaned his sand goggles and got them on. Not one plume of dust but ten! Suddenly, peering low, he recognized what he was looking at: Apparatus desert patrol cars! They must be ru
IT WAS SNELZ!
The desert car pulled up alongside of him. Snelz had his boots up on the dash, lolling beside the driver, laughing fit to burst. Heller took the canteen one of the gri
The rebel forces, in the interim, had landed in the desert well south of the city. The rumble of guns and flashes of explosions tore the air in that sector. They evidently had found a weak spot in the outer three rings of defenses and were hitting it with ferocity. Apparatus artillery was holding the rebel fleet at bay and the result was a massive infantry action that must be taking a heavy toll of lives. Heller, in the desert car, still rolling south, looked up at the sky far to the east. "Hello, hello, hello," he said. "Snelz, look over there on the horizon." Snelz squinted his eyes against the desert glare. Then he raised his binoculars. "Apparatus warships. Must be from the invasion staging areas. Hey, this don't look good. They're going to hit the rebels in the rear. The Fleet is neutral. I think, as a colonel, we have an appointment anywhere else but Palace City." "Look," said Heller. "The east gate is not under attack. We can roll in." "And get to be a part of battle hash?" said Snelz. "As a general, I demand you enter Palace City. You are still in Apparatus uniforms. I am in an Apparatus general's uniform. That settles it. Roll!" "Haven't I got time to write my memoirs?" said Snelz. '"The Short and Happy Life of Colonel Snelz of the Fleet Marines.' You can do the introduction: 'My Friend Snelz, by the late Jettero Heller.' Driver, pull over while I get out a pad and pen. It shouldn't take very long." "Colonel, could I suggest," said Heller, "that you might be able to sign it Brigadier General Snelz if you go through the east gate?" "Well, it would look better on the cover," said Snelz, "even if they have to add 'post-humorous.' East gate, driver." They rolled toward the tumble of wire and posts which had been this side entrance to Palace City. Even chunks of the road were gone. "What the Hells hit them?" said Snelz. "No dead rebels on this side. Did you do that?" "Things got a little spi