Image of the Gods | Page 7

If Varga wants to get his surface planes into
action, he's going to have to dismantle them and rebuild them outside.
The boys jammed up the launching ports for good." He spat again.
"Don't worry, Pete. This is going to be a ground fight."
"Okay." Pete held out his hand to the old man. "This may be it. And if
we turn them back, there's bound to be more later."
"There's a lot of planet to hide on," said Tegan. "They may come back,
but after a while they'll go again."
Pete nodded. "I just hope we'll still be here when they do."
They waited. It seemed like hours. Pete moved from post to post among
the men, heavy-faced men he had known all his life, it seemed. They
waited with whatever weapons they had available--pistols, home-made
revolvers, ortho-guns, an occasional rifle, even knives and clubs. Pete's
heart sank. They were bitter men, but they were a mob with no
organization, no training for fighting. They would be facing a dozen of
Security's best-disciplined shock troops, armed with the latest weapons
from Earth's electronics laboratories. The colonists didn't stand a
chance.
Pete got his rifle and made his way up the rise of ground overlooking
the right flank of the village. Squinting, he could spot the cloud of dust
rising up near the glistening ship, moving toward the village. And then,
for the first time, he realized that he hadn't seen any Dusties all day.
It puzzled him. They had been in the village in abundance an hour
before dawn, while the plans were being laid out. He glanced around,

hoping to see one of the fuzzy brown forms at his elbow, but he saw
nothing. And then, as he stared at the cloud of dust coming across the
valley, he thought he saw the ground moving.
He blinked, and rubbed his eyes. With a gasp he dragged out his
binoculars and peered down at the valley floor. There were thousands
of them, hundreds of thousands, their brown bodies moving slowly out
from the hills surrounding the village, converging into a broad, liquid
column between the village and the ship. Even as he watched, the
column grew thicker, like a heavy blanket being drawn across the road,
a multitude of Dusties lining up.
Pete's hair prickled on the back of his neck. They knew so little about
the creatures, so very little. As he watched the brown carpet rolling out,
he tried to think. Could there be a weapon in their hands, could they
somehow have perceived the evil that came from the ship, somehow
sensed the desperation in the men's voices as they had laid their plans?
Pete stared, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. They were there
in the road, thousands upon thousands of them, standing there,
waiting--for what?
Three columns of dust were coming from the road now. Through the
glasses Pete could see the jeeps, filled with men in their gleaming gray
uniforms, crash helmets tight about their heads, blasters glistening in
the pale light. They moved in deadly convoy along the rutted road,
closer and closer to the crowd of Dusties overflowing the road.
The Dusties just stood there. They didn't move. They didn't shift, or
turn. They just waited.
The captain's car was first in line. He pulled up before the line with a
screech of brakes, and stared at the sea of creatures before him. "Get
out of there!" he shouted.
The Dusties didn't move.
The captain turned to his men. "Fire into them," he snapped. "Clear a
path."

There was a blaze of fire, and a half a dozen Dusties slid to the ground,
convulsing. Pete felt a chill pass through him, staring in disbelief. The
Dusties had a weapon, he kept telling himself, they must have a weapon,
something the colonists had never dreamed of. The guns came up again,
and another volley echoed across the valley, and a dozen more Dusties
fell to the ground. For every one that fell, another moved stolidly into
its place.
With a curse the captain sat down in the seat, gunned the motor, and
started forward. The jeep struck the fallen bodies, rolled over them, and
plunged straight into the wall of Dusties. Still they didn't move. The car
slowed and stopped, mired down. The other cars picked up momentum
and plunged into the brown river of creatures. They too ground to a
stop.
The captain started roaring at his men. "Cut them down! We're going to
get through here!" Blasters began roaring into the faces of the Dusties,
and as they fell the jeeps moved forward a few feet until more of the
creatures blocked their path.
Pete heard a cry below him, and saw Jack Mario standing in the road,
gun