The Whispering Spheres | Page 4

and I'll do it if it kills me. So help me, sir. Sergeant o' the guard!"
The echo of the sentry's bellow rattled against the bleak factory buildings. A sphere bobbed up through the hole in the roof. Orkins opened his mouth to scream, but Norden clapped his hand over the man's lips, choking him off.
"Quiet!" Taylor ordered hoarsely. He addressed the sentry: "See that thing? It means death to you, to all of us if it finds us. The sergeant of the guard, probably all of the other sentries are dead. Every workman in the plant is dead. Somehow we were missed. The searchlight power went off before they found this post, I suppose. Now then, all of you follow Masters back to the car. I'll bring up the rear."
"I won't leave," the sentry said, stubbornly.
Masters stepped forward and put his pistol against the soldier's back.
"You'll go," he said. "Maybe this ain't regulation, but neither are the spheres."
The stubby little secret service man pushed the soldier ahead of him. The sentry marched with his hands in the air.
Drawing his own pistol, Taylor turned to Norden.
"Help Orkins to the car," he said.
Norden drew himself up stiffly.
"Go ahead and shoot," he said. "It'll save the firing squad some trouble."
Taylor took one step forward. Norden faced him unflinchingly. Taylor's hand shot out, caught Norden's coat and threw him after Masters.
"Don't leave me alone!" Orkins cried, crawling after Norden and clasping him about the legs. Norden kicked him aside.
"Keep moving!" Taylor ordered Norden, who had halted.
Norden did not move.
Taylor swung his fist. The blow connected and the officer caught the falling man, swung him over his shoulder, then turned to the cringing Orkins.
"If you don't want to be left here alone, follow us," he said.
Orkins suddenly regained his ability to use his muscles.
Masters, watching over his shoulder, chuckled. There was a faint wink of one eye visible in the moonlight.
"Kinda screwy, ain't he?" he said, jerking his head in Orkins' direction.
"I don't know that I blame him, much," Taylor said. "Look at the plant."
Over the roof and the smokestacks floated the yellowish-red ball of fire. Another sphere was emerging from the hole in the roof.
"What are they? A new kind of bomb?" Masters asked.
"Norden's bomb never had a chance. Compared with what actually happened in there, a bomb would have been a picnic. There's not a living person left in the whole place."
"Not a--hold on there, Cap! Do you know how many were working?"
"They're all dead," Taylor said. Briefly he outlined what he had seen in the plant.
"Norden, the blankety-blank!" Masters swore. "Shooting's too good for him."
"This isn't connected with the war--at least not directly. It's something else, Masters. What, I don't know yet, but I'm beginning to think that it's something the human race has never met before. Those spheres have killed a couple of hundred workers with bolts of energy--"
"I'm no scientist, captain."
"That's the best I can describe this force, Masters. I might call it heat-bolts, but it's probably partly electric and partly heat, not entirely either. You see, Masters, heat is energy, just like electricity and light. The energy these spheres shoot out is a mixture of energies. We can imagine a spark of electricity shooting out and striking a man like a bolt of lightning, but it's hard to visualize heat behaving that way."
"Say, mister," the sentry interrupted, "my arms are getting tired."
"Okay, buddy," Masters replied. "If I let you put your arms down, will you behave like a nice little boy?"
"I'll be a perfect angel," the sentry said, lowering his arms.
"You'll be an angel if you aren't, too," Masters added.
"What's your name, soldier?" Taylor asked the sentry.
"Private Pember, sir. Company A, 110th infantry--"
"All right, Private Pember, you can carry this fellow."
Taylor shifted the faintly stirring Norden to the shoulders of the soldier.
"If it will make you feel any easier, Pember," the captain went on, "I can assure you that exigencies demanded your removal from your post. Your life was in danger and you could do no good by remaining there. In fact, there was nothing left to guard. You can do more good for your country by coming with us."
"Yes, sir," Pember said. "I guess you are right, captain."
"You're a good soldier, Pember," Taylor went on. "A situation like this is unique. It demands use of individual initiative, rather than blind obedience to orders. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Pember said, adjusting the burden on his shoulder.
* * * * *
They reached the car.
A dozen of the orange-red globes now floated above the plant. They were circling slowly, in widening arcs, toward the limits of the factory grounds.
"Searching for human beings," Taylor decided, watching them.
Orkins clutched Taylor's coat tails.
"They're coming out!" he cried. "There's hell to pay."
Taylor took Orkins' arm and forced him down on the running board of the