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[Magazine 1966-­04] - The Unspeakable Affair
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Текст книги "[Magazine 1966-­04] - The Unspeakable Affair"


Автор книги: Robert Hart Davis



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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 6 страниц)

But it was another odd-shaped building that caught his eye. He crept through the jungle-like growth to this building.

Its size was staggering to the mind, at least as wide as a regulation football field.

It was shaped like the dome of an observatory, like a giant beehive. Above it was heavy camouflage. Solo studied it and saw a ring of windows at ground level. Up close it was so large it faded away out of sight on either side as it curved in its circle. He reached a window and looked in. What he saw was more staggering than the size of the giant building.

He saw a tall metal column. It towered high into the dome, and seemed to stand in a deep hole in the ground.

The column itself was at least a hundred feet wide and over a hundred feet high.

Attached to the column half way up he saw the six black nuclear aircraft with their stubby wings.

For a long minute he could not believe what he was seeing. Men climbed ladders and went in and out of the giant column. He looked at where it entered the earth and faded away below.

He knew what he was seeing, but he did not want to believe it, in all its horror.

The column was the payload end of the largest rocket he had ever seen.

A rocket that could only lift off under more concentrated power than he had ever heard could be developed.

And the payload end was only one possible thing—a space station intended to orbit. A space station that carried six deadly nuclear aircraft.

A space station that could dominate the Earth.

Project Condor!

ACT IV

FOR WANT OF A NAIL

THE FOUR SOLDIERS of the 16th Regiment rode in the jeep through the swamp, driving carefully on the dirt road. A scouting party, they watched the jungle and narrow waterways carefully. It was the corporal himself who saw the man come out of the brush.

"Look there!" the corporal cried in Spanish.

The man who came out of the bush was covered in mud from head to foot, his clothes dripping. He waved frantically at the soldiers of the 16th Regiment. The soldiers slowed and kept their weapons pointed at him.

"You will remain completely motionless, Senor," the corporal said in Spanish. And to his men, "Search him."

"Listen, my name is Napoleon Solo. I have to see your commander immediately!" Solo said.

After his one long look at the gigantic rocket with its deadly space station, Solo had managed to retrace his steps and swim back to the mainland. But his stolen car had been gone, and he had seen the tracks of many men wearing boots. He was sure that no Thrush men had left the swamp island, and realized that the Government had undoubtedly sent men, probably under the command of General Valera. Only Valera was on the island, not with the soldiers.

He had begun to look for the soldiers.

He searched as quickly as he could in the trackless jungle swamps—there was no telling just when the space station would be launched. Valera had come here, so it was probably soon. Now, with the soldiers watching him suspiciously, he tried to convince them of the urgency.

"It's vitally important," Solo said in Spanish.

The corporal eyed him suspiciously. "You are not of our country, Senor?"

"No, I'm an American: I'm working with General Hoyos!" Solo said.

"North Americano?" the corporal said, in English now.

One of the soldiers who had searched Solo showed the U.N.C.L.E. special and the briefcase filled with strange-looking objects and weapons to the corporal. The corporal looked at Solo's equipment.

"So? A Yankee who carries a pistol and is found walking alone in a swamp? I think the commander, he will also want to see you, Senor."

Ten minutes later Solo stood before a short, dark man in the uniform of a full colonel. The colonel, one Colonel Montoya, Commander of the 16th Regiment, had examined his briefcase and pistol.

"You say this is an U.N.C.L.E. weapon, that the case is the same, and that you are named Napoleon Solo, an agent for that organization?"

"Yes, Colonel, and can we hurry? They have a space station they are going to launch!" Solo explained.

"A space station? From the island in the swamp?" Montoya said. "It is quite a story, Mr. Solo, if that is indeed your true name."

"You have my credentials!" Solo snapped. "Colonel, I have friends, prisoners on that island. I have to get in there and help them! I came out to give General Hoyos a chance to get here and stop the launch."

Colonel Montoya sat down on his camp stool inside the field tent. "Mr. Solo, again if that is truly your name," Montoya said. "Do you take me for a fool? You think I do not know that my men are here for some important project? Only you continue to talk about General Hoyos, when it is General Valera who commands this mission. If you were what you say you are, would you not know that? Would you not ask for General Valera?"

Solo studied the short, dark colonel. The soldier had the ring of truth in his voice, and yet? Thrush men were well trained. If Valera was a Thrush man, then why not Montoya? Only Solo had a hunch. In a country like this, men protected themselves. With Valera in command, General Hoyos would probably have assigned a second in command loyal to himself, Hoyos. Anyway, he had to take the chance.

"Because I am pretty sure that General Valera is the leader on the other side," Solo said. "I think General Valera is the man in charge of Project Condor. He has taken my partner prisoner, and has him on that island in the swamp."

Montoya slowly twirled his dark mustache. "General Valera, you say?"

The dark colonel stared hard at Solo. Montoya did not leap to Valera's defense, did not fly into a rage of outraged honor. Instead the colonel seemed to be thinking, considering, watching Solo very carefully.

"You tell me that General Valera is actually a traitor?"

"I think he is a top leader of Thrush. You've heard of Thrush?"

Montoya nodded slowly. "I have heard of this Thrush."

"Then you know how dangerous this affair is. You have to get through to General Hoyos," Solo said. "You can check up on why Valera isn't here where he should be!"

A tall, gaunt figure loomed in the entrance to the field tent. The cadaverous face stared at Solo and then at Colonel Montoya. Montoya had leaped to his feet at the sight of the tall man.

"But he is here, and if you have anything to ask, ask Valera himself!"

General Miguel Valera stood in the doorway flanked by four of his special staff. They were all armed. Solo looked at the armed men, and at Montoya.

"Who is this man, Colonel Montoya?" General Valera asked.

"He claims to be one Napoleon Solo of an organization named The United Network Command For Law and Enforcement."

Valera snorted. "A spy! Shoot him!"

"His credentials seem genuine," Montoya said.

"Forged, my dear Montoya. Anyone can forge a set of U.N.C.L.E. credentials, especially a Thrush agent," Valera said.

"He claims that you are a Thrush leader, General," Montoya said.

"And do you believe him, Colonel Montoya?" Valera snapped.

"Of course not, but, with your permission, his credentials should be checked," Montoya said.

"Shoot him! I, Valera, take responsibility!"

Montoya stared straight ahead. "With your permission, my General, you are not empowered to shoot without a trial."

"Empowered? Fool, I command in the field! That is all the power I need, you know that," Valera snapped.

"With your permission, such power was removed by General Hoyos when he assumed the Defense post. Article Twelve of the new Military Code."

"The devil with Article Twelve," Valera snapped. "But if it bothers you, Colonel, I will simply take your prisoner off your hands. You agree I am 'empowered' to do that much?"

"Yes, General," Montoya said "But, with your permission, I think the matter should be taken to General Hoyos. This man has, of course, made some mistake about you, but he may well be who he claims to be, and—"

Valera stared at Montoya. The eyes of the gaunt general were grim and careful.

"I see," Valera broke in. "General Hoyos, eh? And if I take your prisoner, you will, of course, immediately inform General Hoyos of that fact?"

"Of course. It would be my clear duty." Montoya said.

Valera nodded. A pistol seemed to appear in his thin hand. There was a sharp, soft cracking sound. Montoya seemed to leap backwards and sprawl out flat on the ground. Valera held his silenced pistol and looked down at the dead man. Then he holstered the pistol.

"Come," Valera said to his men. "Bring Solo."

Outside, Valera called over two of the soldiers of Headquarters Company of the 16th Regiment. The soldiers stood at rigid attention.

"Colonel Montoya does not wish to be disturbed," Valera said crisply. "Is that clear? I will return later, see that no one bothers the colonel at his work."

"Yes, General," the soldiers said in unison.

"Very good," Valera said. And to his men, "Bring the prisoner." Solo was marched to the grey Bentley and pushed inside. The touring car drove off. Once out of sight of the soldiers of the Sixteenth Regiment, the grey car turned toward the island in the swamp where the space station waited to be launched. Valera smiled.

"So, Mr. Solo, now we have you all."

"They'll find Montoya," Solo said.

"Of course. But what will they learn from a dead man?"

Valera began to laugh aloud.

TWO

SOLO STOOD in the dark night. The four guards watching him. Valera faced an angry Dr. Guerre. The cherubic little man still looked like some rotund pixie despite his anger.

"Kill them or throw him into the pit with the others, Council Member," Guerre said. "We have wasted too much time on them as it is. We will have to launch at dawn; they will find Montoya! Did you have to kill him? Stupid!"

"They will learn nothing from a dead man," Valera snapped. "And may I remind you who is in charge here?"

"You may remind me forever," Guerre roared, "but it is my project! I have waited too long to let you ruin it. Do you think I need a computer to tell me that Waverly will put two and two together once Hoyos informs him of Montoya's death? Those soldiers saw you in that tent, you fool! They will talk to anyone."

Valera turned purple with anger. "How dare you call—"

"Oh shut up! The space station goes at dawn; we cannot risk discovery! When will you Thrush fools learn that Waverly is as good or better than your damned computer!? Kill them now, if you have to. That is about what you are good for, to kill gadflies!"

Valera boiled with rage. "You take care of your project, Dr. Guerre; leave U.N.C.L.E. to me. You did not do very well with them in New Mexico. I think they are too valuable to kill. Once Condor is in orbit, we will still need other information. Condor alone will not bring us the world."

"Then throw this one into the pit with the others and be damned!" Guerre raged. "I have work!"

The fat little man turned and waddled off into the night. Valera, still in a rage, barked an order. The four men hustled Solo to the edge of a yawning pit. Valera turned and strode off after Guerre, his eyes blazing with rage against the fat Doctor. The four men bound Solo's hands, looped a rope under his arms, and lowered him into the pit.

On the bottom Solo lay in soft dirt. He felt the rope jerk; then it was loose and going up. He saw the faint faces of the four soldiers far– off above. The pit was at least thirty feet deep. Solo lay there struggling in his bonds. Then he heard a noise. The face of Illya Kuryakin peered down at him. The blond agent grinned and went to work on his ropes.

A few moments later Solo sat up, free. He smiled at Illya.

"At least we can play cards, if we had any cards," Solo said.

Illya shook his head.

"You don't feel like talking?" Solo said.

Illya shook his head again, pointed to his mouth. Solo stared. Illya pointed to his mouth, shook his head, shrugged.

"You can't talk?" Solo said. "They used that drug on you?"

Illya nodded, pointed off into the dark at the bottom of the pit. Solo looked and saw a figure. The figure moved, sat up. It was Penny Parsons. At least the girl was still alive, but there was fear in her eyes.

"Did they drug her too?" Solo asked.

Illya nodded. The girl just stared as if in a trance. Solo looked around.

"At least they left us our clothes again. Shoes, too, this time," Solo said.

Illya held out his flat suitcase. Then the blond agent pointed up, and at the walls, and shrugged, tossed the case away. Solo watched Illya, and then walked and touched the walls of the pit. Soft dirt everywhere.

There was no hold, nothing but dirt towering thirty feet up.

Solo nodded. "I see what you mean. Our weapons are all designed for the twentieth century; they're useless against a pit of simple dirt. So they didn't bother to take them."

Illya nodded.

"We can cut through metal, wood, concrete. We can blow up doors and locks. But what do you do against dirt?"

Illya shrugged. Solo laughed.

"Well, nothing is all bad," Solo said. "It's the first time I've ever seen you speechless."

Illya glared. Solo laughed again. The girl, Penny Parsons, began to cry. Solo looked around.

"There must be some way out," Solo said.

Illya nodded and pointed off to the left. Solo saw a hole in the side of the pit. A large hole like a passage that seemed to lead downward. Solo studied it and nodded.

"This pit is connected to something else," Solo said. "Do you know where it leads?"

Illya nodded, and shrugged.

"Well, we have to try something. Maybe you missed a way out. Let's go."

Illya nodded again. The two agents took hold of Penny Parsons and led the girl to the large hole. They crawled into the hole with Solo leading.

The passage led downward at a sharp angle. It seemed to go on and on. But at last Solo saw light ahead. They emerged in an enormous underground chamber. Solo looked around. Many other holes led off all around the circular chamber. Illya pointed up.

Solo looked up and saw the gigantic base of the space station launching rocket. The rocket engines protruded from the base, ten of the largest engine cones he had ever seen. And they were different in appearance. Solo looked at Illya.

"Nuclear engines?" Solo said.

Illya nodded.

"This is the blast chamber. The passages to the pits are to give escape for the exhaust gases when it lifts off," Solo said.

Illya nodded. The small Russian indicated a sudden explosion, gas spreading out and into the exhaust holes, and filling the pits beyond. Then Illya indicated the end, finished. Solo nodded.

"The gases will finish us. Is there a way out of this chamber, maybe up along the rocket?" Solo asked.

Illya indicated that they could try. Solo looked around and saw the steel ladder that led up the side of the chamber to a platform on a level with the engine above. He walked to the ladder and climbed up to the stage. Illya came up behind him. On the platform the two agents looked at the rocket, and then upward.

There was no way up the sheer steel sides of the rocket pit. Solo shrugged and leaned out. He reached the tail section of the rocket itself and pulled himself up. Illya walked around and did the same on the other side. Slowly, painfully, both men pulled themselves up over the gigantic tail section.

Solo reached the end of the tail section. Above him the monster rocket stretched round and smooth. There was nothing more to hold on to and the steel-sided pit faded away above. Solo tried, but it was no use. He slid, slipped, and fell back to the tail section. There was no way up.

On the platform he waited. Illya appeared. Obviously the small Russian had had no better luck. The two men descended the ladder and rejoined Penny Parsons on the bottom. The deadly engines towered above them. Solo looked at the hundreds of holes all around to allow the ignition gases to escape.

"Well, we might as well see if they lead anywhere better than our original pit," Solo said.

Illya shrugged and the girl began to cry again. Solo patted her heaving shoulders.

"We might find something," Solo said.

But they did not.

They searched all the exhaust passages, but found nothing but more pits exactly like the one they had been dropped into. They split up and searched. There was nothing.

Dawn light tinged the open space above the pits. A hum had begun somewhere. The rocket was being readied. Then Illya came out of a side passage and nodded his blond head eagerly. The small Russian picked up his flat suitcase and motioned for Solo and the girl to follow.

The hum of engines warming grew louder.

Solo crawled along the dark passage behind the girl. Illya was up ahead. They emerged into another pit—a pit exactly like all the others they had reached. Solo swore.

"Damn it, Illya, this is—"

Illya pointed up. Solo looked up to where a very faint dawn light showed some kind of object hanging over the pit.

Solo narrowed his eyes and looked at the object. Then he saw what it was—a crane!

Above this pit there was a crane and boom hanging out over the hole itself. A crane intended to lower material into the pit. The cable of the crane dangled tantalizingly over the pit.

If they could somehow manage to reach it.

THREE

ILLYA OPENED his small suitcase and brought out the tiny electronic meter and activator. Solo looked at the tiny instrument designed to activate any electrically-controlled device. Then he looked up at the crane. It was just possible . . .

"If it can range that far," Solo said.

Illya's quizzical eyes smiled, indicated that the range was okay; the question was whether or not the crane was electrically operated and controlled.

"What have we got to lose?" Solo said.

Illya set the controls of the tiny actuator and aimed it upward. There was a silence.

Illya increased the power in the actuator.

Nothing happened.

The two agents looked at each other. Somewhere the hum of the nuclear engines pre-heating grew louder.

Illya slowly changed the direction of the electronic signal from the actuator, revolving the instrument in his hands.

Above an engine coughed, missed, struggled—and went on.

The crane began to vibrate. The sound was that of a gasoline engine, started by an electric spark.

"Now, are the controls electric?" Solo said. "Give it the gun, my Russian optimist."

Illya twisted the control dial on the actuator. There was a grinding of gears above, a whirring of a drum, and the cable began to move upward.

"Quick!" Solo cried. "If it reaches the top it could jam!"

Illya reversed the controls. There was a loud grinding of gears. The crane boom above shuddered as the gears reversed. The whole machine above shook, hesitated.

At the bottom of the pit, Solo and Illya watched.

Illya increased the power on the actuator the fraction of a turn. The crane shook—and the cable started down. It came down fast now. When it reached the bottom Illya stopped it with a flick of the control. There was a large cargo sling at the end.

Solo went first, his foot in the stirrup of the cargo sling, holding to the cable, riding up. He crouched and peered out as he was raised clear of the edge. There was no one near.

Penny Parsons came up next, then Illya.

In the faint light of dawn a thick mist rose from the swamp all around the island. Vague figures moved in the mist far off. Solo and Illya kept the girl between them as they advanced warily, unable to see more than twenty feet.

The mist that hid their enemies from them, hid them from their enemies. Men passed close to them in the thick white mist and did not even glance at them. The base was a beehive of activity. None of the men who passed them were armed until, suddenly they came out into an open space in front of a thick– walled concrete building.

The mist has thinned. It still hung heavy over the water of the swamp that surrounded the island, but here it had thinned. Two armed men stood in front of the main doorway into the building. Illya nodded to Solo. The two agents warned Penny Parsons to stay where she was, and vanished into the swirling mist.

They appeared from either side at the same instant, each creeping up close along the wall behind one of the two guards. Both guards fell without a sound, chopped across the neck. Solo and Illya scooped up t heir weapons, motioned to Penny to come ahead, and the three of them went into the building.

Solo led the way down broad corridors that were strangely deserted. Illya pointed to an open door far down a wide main corridor. There was light in the doorway. The three approached the doorway carefully. Solo peered around the corner, his Thrush rifle ready.

He saw a large office. There was a desk, leather chairs, all the appointments of the office of some high executive—and a large computer! A door stood open to the left. Even as Solo watched, the computer began to operate, flashing lights and the whirring of a thousand tiny electronic circuits.

Solo looked at Illya. The blond agent came to the door and looked in.

"The Ultimate Computer?" Solo said, watching the awesome machine blinking and whirring.

Illya shook his head. No. With his mobile hands the Russian indicated that this was a smaller copy, a field model of the heart of Thrush operations, but worth destroying. The two agents stepped into the room.

As a man came through the open door to the left.

General Miguel Valera froze as he saw them. His hand moved to his holster. Illya motioned with his stolen Thrush rifle. Valera hesitated, seemed to glance for an instant behind him, then shrugged and moved his hand away from his weapon. The gaunt Thrush council member walked casually into the center of the room.

"So, again you surprise us. Someday, perhaps, we will learn not to underestimate the resourcefulness of U.N.C.L.E. agents. Or perhaps it is just you two, and, of course, Waverly. Guerre was right; I should have killed you. Now, of course, you will kill me."

Solo smiled. "Not necessarily; we need information, too. Where is Dr. Guerre?"

Valera shrugged. "Alas, I do not know. Preparing the launch, I imagine. I suggest we all leave here very soon. You have noted, I trust, the absence of personnel in this building?"

"What does that mean?" Solo said.

Valera looked at Illya and Penny Parsons. The gaunt Thrush leader grinned. "I see your friends are still speechless. Too bad."

"What do you mean by the absence of personnel?" Solo said again.

Illya suddenly touched Solo's arm. The small blond agent made motions to indicate a rocket flight and an explosion. Valera watched, nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Kuryakin understands. You see, Solo, the launch will go off any moment, and this building will not be safe. All our men are in their shelters. I think you would do wise to give yourselves up to me and allow me to lead you to shelter."

The tall, gaunt Valera was a man of cool nerve. In the face of two rifles trained on his heart he was making his threat, his bid to reserve the situation. But Illya shook his head, pointed to the sky and then the ground. Solo nodded.

"Yes," Solo said. "I think, General, it would be better for you to lead us to the control room so we can stop the launching. You must know—"

Solo sensed, rather than heard, the movement behind him. He whirled. Illya whirled. There was a single shot and Illya fell, clutching his shoulder.

Maxine Trent stood in the doorway, her pistol in her hand.

"Drop it, Napoleon," the beautiful agent said.

Solo hesitated.

"Come, come, Napoleon. You must know that this is it. I will really have to kill you this time. General, take his weapon!"

The general stepped forward. Solo raised his rifle. Maxine smiled viciously and swung the tiny muzzle of her pistol down to point straight at Solo's heart. He knew that she would beat him.

But she did not. She had forgotten Penny Parsons.

The lab girl, against the wall and out of Maxine's sight, jumped forward. Maxine, her eyes concentrated on Solo, her mind already enjoying this moment when she would at last kill Napoleon Solo, did not see Penny until too late. The lab girl struck her with the full force of her body. Maxine's shot went wild into the ceiling.

The pistol skidded away across the floor. Solo leaped after it. Maxine whirled, clawed at Penny Parsons. The lab girl, in a fury of rage at all that had been done to her, attacked in silence and Maxine sprawled on the floor, her skirt flying up above her beautiful legs. Solo dived for the pistol.

Valera reached the pistol first, grabbed it, dropped to one knee, raised the small gun and aimed straight at the onrushing Solo. There was a shot, a second shot, and Valera fell over backwards.

Solo reached the pistol and picked it up. He whirled to see Illya lying prone on the floor, his rifle still pointing at General Valera.

Solo bent over Valera. The General opened his eyes.

"Damn you!" Valera whispered. "Gone—all gone. Damn you . . . I would have—ruled . . . the . . . world!" And then Valera smiled once more. "But . . . too . . . late . . . for . . . you . . . too! I stopped . . . you! The . . . door ... too late . . . "

Valera fell back. Dead.

Illya, his left arm dangling, struggled to his feet. Solo faced around to cover Maxine Trent. Penny Parsons sat dazed on the floor, and Maxine was gone. Illya limped across the room to the door that stood open in the left wall of the large office. Solo went to stand with the Russian.

They were looking into a small, steel-lined room with walls covered with filing cabinets. Across this room was a wall half glass and half steel, with another room beyond the glass-and-steel wall.

The room behind the glass-and– steel wall was filled with instruments and consoles. Lights blinked all through this second room. On the far side of the second room there was a large window, and through the window the launching area was clearly visible.

They saw the gigantic nose section of the launching rocket through the far window, the space station with its six deadly nuclear aircraft.

The space station and nuclear aircraft were quivering out on the launching pad.

The room behind the glass-and– steel wall was what they had been looking for—the main control room!

And the cherubic face of Dr. Ernesto Guerre smiled at them from inside the control room.

"Valera fooled us!" Solo muttered. "He held us out there in the office while the control room was here all the time!"

Illya raised his stolen Thrush rifle and fired a point-blank burst at the glass-and-steel wall.

The bullets bounced off.

Inside the control room Dr. Guerre laughed, and reached to press a button. A voice suddenly seemed to fill the steel outer room.

"Three hundred and counting down. Two-ninety-nine . . . two– ninety-eight . . . two-ninety-seven . . . two-ninety-six . . . two– ninety-five . . . "

Solo said, "Five minutes. Maybe we have time to blast through that door!"

Illya grabbed his shoulder, pulled him.

"Do we have enough explosive?" Solo asked.

Illya shook his head, pulled Solo.

"But we've got to stop the launch!" Solo insisted.

Illya shook his head again, negative, and turned and ran from the room. Solo went after him. In the large office Illya was helping Penny Parsons to her feet. Solo grabbed him.

"We've got to stop it, Illya!" Solo said.

Illya motioned with his hands, a motion of flight and then diving back to earth. Illya motioned an explosion and laughed. Then the small Russian indicated the need for quick and determined flight.

The counting voice continued. "Two-hundred-sixty . . . two-fifty– nine . . . two-fifty-eight . . . two– fifty-seven . . . two-fifty-six . . . "

Solo had one last look at the grinning and triumphant face of the cherubic Dr. Ernesto Guerre as the fat little man stared at them through the glass-and-steel wall of the control room.

FOUR

THE MIST HAD begun to burn off out in the open beyond the main building. Solo, Illya and Penny Parsons ran across the deserted swamp island toward the narrow stretch of water that separated it from the mainland of the swamp.

There was no one in sight; the entire secret base was deserted. In its launching silo the gigantic space station quivered on the end of the giant rocket.

The three reached the edge of the water and plunged in without an instant of hesitation. They swam across and emerged wet and sliding in the mud on the far side.

They staggered up the bank and into the first line of swamp jungle growth.

Illya Kuryakin looked at his watch and urged them on.

They came out on a dirt road. Voices shouted at them. Six soldiers wearing the insignia of the 16th Regiment covered them. A captain stepped forward.

"Who are you, quick?" the captain snapped in Spanish.

"Agents of U.N.C.L.E., we're working with—" Solo began.

The captain broke in. "You are Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin?" he said in English,

"Yes," Solo said, "but how—"

Illya caught his arm, indicated speed and quick escape. Solo faced the captain.

"We better get away from here fast, Captain."

The captain nodded. Already the earth was shaking as the space station was about to blast off. The captain whistled and a command car appeared.

They all piled in and the driver tore off along the road away from the swamp land.

They drove fast and Illya sat in the rear looking back. The whole land was shaking now as the nuclear engines of the launching rocket began to gain full power.

The command car heaved and lurched on the road as the ground shook. Illya looked at his watch.

They passed other vehicles with soldiers, and the captain waved them all to go to the rear. The soldiers needed no urging, the ground trembling as if in the grip of an earthquake.

There were more and more soldiers now, all wearing the insignia of the 16th Regiment, and all armed in full battle gear.

Suddenly, Illya touched Solo's shoulder and pointed to the direction from which they had come. The earth was shivering madly now.

Solo looked back and saw it.

The space station, with its six black nuclear craft attached, had risen above the swamp, far back.

Half the rocket was visible now, rising slowly, so very slowly.

Solo could not believe, even now, the size of the gigantic launch vehicle. It seemed to fill the horizon. So big it seemed on top of them, although it was many miles away now.

The vehicle climbed so slowly higher, gathering speed.

The tail section appeared.

Then the mighty engines, blasting great sheets of flame that seared the swamp growth beneath them.


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