Chapter XIX

Alan and I sat, that late evening of the battle’s second day, upon our bed where we had just been sleeping. The news tapes and mirrors gave us the details of what had happened while we slept. Turber was winning. There could be no doubt of that.

The sleep had refreshed us; and suddenly, as I met Alan’s eyes, I realized that his thoughts were the same as mine. There must be something we could do to try and rescue Nanette. We were no longer total strangers here.

We knew the city now; and by personal contact, or by reputa-tion,wewere knowntomostof the commandersofthe city forces.

“That fellow Van Dyne,” said Alan, “the Marshal of the West Manhattan area, likes us. I was thinking—”

I interrupted: “Get him to organize a small squad. It could be done without general orders. Make asecret raid into the Turber section—try to get to the ship—”

Make a desperate play—no matter how desperate! We were all desperate. The situation was almost as bad as it could be.

Alan shook his head. “I think the more men we took, the less chance of success. There’s no chance, Ed, to fight our way into the Turber city. We’ll have totry to get there by our wits—just you and I. I was thinking—”

He had a plan. We discussed it; elaborated it. We called on the audiphone here by our bed for Van Dyne. He was available. Luck was with us. He was where we wanted him to be, on the roof, on patrol duty.

The least of the fighting so far had been on the city roof. The Turberites had made sorties, but often had abandoned the region they took. Van Dyne told us now:

The Hoboken roof section was mainly in Turber hands. And Brooklyn. But this central Manhattan section and all north of it we held.

Van Dyne was on the roof, over mid-lower Manhattan.

“We want to come up and see you,” said Alan.

“Where are you?”

Alan told him our location in northern Westchester. “Can you order us transportation?”

“Yes,” he said. “But it’s roundabout. Only a few official lines running.”

“I know,” said Alan. “Orderusaguidetogetusuptoyou. Hurry it, please.”

A guide appeared in our room in a moment. He led us out to a small railcar. It whirled us south. Then by lift to the roof. An official transport car on a narrow-gauge roof-track was operating with emergency battery. It took us south, over the rooftop.

The roof spread like a great rolling expanse of rumpled canvas. Dark everywhere, withafew dotted lights.It never was level for very far. It rose in terraces, up and down, heaped up in peaks to cover huge, looming structures beneath. A roof, built haphazard, piecemeal, through many centuries. It rose to the right, over Hoboken, and ahead of us, over mid-Manhattan, it loomed in great terraced steps. The open sky was over us. It seemed so strange to be out in the open air! A black night, with heavy, sullen clouds.

The roof surface was a dark metal labyrinth. Narrow metal roadways crossing it; viaducts, sometimes on stilts to strike a more level path; inclines up the terraces; footpaths and ladders. The air landing stages—all now abandoned—were up here.

There were low metal towers at intervals, observation and instrument towers, occasional low metal buildings—the meteorological station, observatories, metal posts were set at points of vantage holding the image finders for the city mirrors; and there were occasional kiosks covering the entrances downward to the city. And an intricate system of drainage sluiceways, with heat projectors to melt the winter snows. A maze of metal structure, this rooftop. It was all official—the public always was barred up here. Its activity was paralyzed now. The buildings were abandoned. The lights were nearly all out. It lay dark and mysterious, with only the glowofthe city showinginocca-sional irregular patches where the roof structure was translucent.

Our car was frequently challenged as we passed prowling patrols of the city police. Then we came to Van Dyne.

A friendly fellow. Alan,inconfidence, told him our plan, and he passed us. His post here was the end of our territory. Beyond it the roof was abandoned—a sort of No Man’s Land, where figures prowled; but for hours now there had been no fighting.

“Good luck,” Van Dyne said.

We slipped past and ran south. We followed a narrow viaduct which bent to the right to avoid the higher terraces. The roof surface was some six feet beneath it, with occasional steps leading down. It was all solid black.

We were armed with the needle-like swords; and each of uscar-ried a small dagger. It had been our original plan to have Van Dyne secure for us two uniforms of the Turberites. There were many bodies in the city in our territory.

But it was not necessary, Van Dyne told us promptly. The roof up here had been the scene of many bloody skirmishes. We could pick for ourselves.

We went south perhaps a mile. Alert, but we encountered nothing alive. Occasionally upon the roof we saw a heap of dead. Our little viaduct in one place was blocked with bodies. Turber’s rabble was always garbed in the costumes of its native Time-worlds. It seemed a conceit of his. We lifted the dead bodies here. Grisly business! We selected two of about our size. They wore the red-coated uniforms of the British army of the Revolutionary War. In the darkness on the trestle-like viaduct we changed clothes. And then we found two dark cloaks. Threw them over our heads. In the darkness we might thus pass unnoticed. But if challenged we hoped we might be thought Turberites. Our native language—with uniforms like this—would be English, which is why we selected them. We discarded our police needle-swords and carried only the daggers.

Againwe headed south. The roof wasat a low altitude here over the Hudson River section. We passed down to where the fence of the original Turberite area ranged in an irregular line east and west across the roof.

“Think we can get through it, Ed?”

“Van Dyne said the gates were more or less abandoned—some were smashed by the fighting up here.”

“Yes. But we’ll be challenged.”

We had expected constantly to be challenged. The metal fence loomed close before us. It seemed thirty or forty feet high. There was a gateway nearby.

“Over there,” whispered Alan.

We were down on the roof-structure itself now, clambering forward over its sluiceways.

“Ed!” He gripped me. In the air over us the Turber Time-ship came sailing! It was solid—not traveling in Time—merely sailing here in Space. Two or three hundred feet above us, moving slowly north!

We stared with sinking hearts. This was so wholly unexpected. The ship seemed descending, as though it might land on the roof. A moment; and then it flashed, faded into phantom. There was an instant when I though it had gone through the roof. The wraith had vanished.

We stood stricken. Was Turber taking Nanette into some other Time-world? Abandoning his enterprise here? It did not seem likely when he was winning.

Or was the ship going into Time to try to find our tower? Had Turber some inkling that Lea was bringing us a super-weapon? Was he sending his ship to try and prevent that? If so, were he and Nanette in the ship? We had no way of knowing.

“I think we shouldgo on,” Alan whisperedatlast. “Nanette may be in the city. If they’ll accept us as Turberites—if we can only get to her—”

We got through the gateway. A guard was there. He chanced to speak English. We flung back our cloaks.

“Special business for Dr. Turber. Good news!”

There seemed only one fellow here. Then off to one side we saw a dozen or more, seated on the roof in a glow of light, lolling about, smoking.

The Turber roof was dim with dotted lights. But it was all in operation. Groups of soldiers at intervals; occasionally a transport car passing along on its narrow rails.

The fellow atthe gate had waved vaguely toward this viaduct we now were transversing. We had followed his gesture. Our idea was to locate some Turber official whom we might fool—or force—into giving us information about Nanette.

A low metal building showed ahead of us. It was small; it seemed perhaps of only one room. An isolated dark spread of roof was around it. This viaduct wewereonledto it. The little house had open windows, low to the floor, and there was a glow of light within.

I whispered: “Some official maybe onduty there.Ifwecan rush him—make him tell us—”

A kiosk leading down into the city showed a hundred feet or so beyond the little building. We left the viaduct. We crept forward over the dark open roof. We came to one of the open windows of the building. There must have been at that instant a dark figure lurking near us on the roof. Watching us. But we did not see it.

The window stood with its sill at our knees. We dropped low, peered in. A single metal room with a glow of light. A metal table-block held a strange instrument of tubes and coils. Strange to me but not to Alan. It was a Time-vision instrument! Its screen stood facing us; upon it was an image of our tower, a phantom speeding tower!

A man sat with his back to us, hunched over the instrument. It was Turber! He was alone in the room. Alan’s lips went to my ear:

“I’ll go first.”

The Time-vision was humming. It covered the slight noise we made. We got through the window, stalked noiselessly.

With a leap we seized Turber. He seemed unarmed, he did not struggle or cry out. He was startled, but he sat back with almost instant recovered poise.

“Well! You here?”

We stood over him. Alan gripped him. There was a moment when I thought that Alan might plunge the dagger into him and have it over.

“Alan—easy!”

Alan shook him. He did not resist. Alan gritted: “God, I ought to kill you! Where is Nanette?”

“Nanette? Nanette?”

He began to stall. It was too much for me.

I cuffed him inthe face with the flat ofmy hand. Hewinced and went livid white; his eyes bored into me. But he held firm.

He said: “Why—Nanette? Take your hands off me, young fellow!”

Alan eased up. He motioned me off. “We want Nanette, understand? We’re desperate, Turber. If you balk I’ll stab you now and have done. Understand?”

He said: “Yes.” He managed a wry smile. “If I raise my voice I can bring a dozen of my men here in a minute.”

“But we’ll kill you first,” said Alan.

He could not doubt it. He said: “All right—then let’s be quiet. I’m no more anxious to die than you are.”

His poise was coming back. “What do you want?”

“Nanette,” I said. “Where is she? The truth, damn you!”

I felt he was going to say in the ship.

Instead he said: “Down in the city, not far from here.”

There was a local audiphone hanging on a hook near him. Alan said: “Order her up. Be quick! Give the order and have one man only bring her up.”

He moved his hand to take down the receiver. He stopped. He said: “You see, I’ve told you the truth. I could just as easily have said she was in my ship. Did you see my ship passing?”

“Yes,” said Alan.

“I’ve sent it after your tower. With Bluntnose and Jonas.” The Time-vision instrument was still operating; he gestured to the screen, which still showed our speeding phantom tower. The dials here were illegible to us. Turber added:

“Where has your tower been? I just picked up this image. Is your tower coming here?”

I realized he was again stalling. I said: “You take down that receiver—”

He took it down. He said: “Shall I open the circuit?”

“Yes,” commanded Alan. “And speak quietly—if you say a wrong word I’ll run this dagger in your throat.”

This clever scoundrel! We realized afterwards that he had drawn our attention to the screen and thus had turned our backs to the doorofthe room whichhe could see out ofthe tailofhis eyes. As we bent alert while he reached for the audiphone a figure crept up behind us; launched full upon us. We were taken wholly by surprise—knocked against the table. The woman, Josefa! She had doubtless followed Turber to the roof, jealous of his every movement. He had seen her behind us in the doorway. She leaped upon us. Turber heaved upward. Alan’s dagger grazed his arm. Turber shouted. He struck with his fist at me and flung himself backward. The woman managed to cling to us both, heedless of our knives. She clung; kicked, bit and tore at us. It took a moment for us to shake her off. But in that moment Turber was near a window. He flung a heavy metal chair at us, and turned and leaped like a misshapen cat through the window. His shouts sounded outside, as he ran, giving the alarm.

We would be trapped here in another moment.

“Alan, come on! Get out of here!”

I was free of the woman. I tore her from Alan. She panted: “You let him alone! You let him alone!”

We turned and ran. Leaped into the darknessof the roof, where a turmoil of the alarm was beginning. Howweever got back I do not know. Hunted, astwo rats would have been hunted in that metal labyrinth by a pack of wolves. But we got through safely; found a broken section of the division fence. Ran northward.

Thepursuit behinduspresently died away. Thenwe came upon a city police patrol. They saw our red uniforms and very nearly killed us before we could speak. But we convinced them of our identity. One said: “The tower came!”

It galvanized us. “The tower?”

“Came, but did not stop. Just a phantom.”

What could that mean? Lea and San, passing, but not stopping?

We got transportation down into the city, avoiding the areas where the fighting was raging. An official car took us by a devious route to the tower space. The street here was heavily guarded by the city forces, but the Turberites were fighting close to the south. Only a few blocks away we could hear the sounds of the battle.

The tower had come and passed. Its marked space in the street was empty. Our guards surrounded it. We stood among them.

A phantom showed over our heads! A moving phantom of the Turber ship! It darted across the tower space and vanished.

Now we understood! San and Lea were trying to land. Blunt-nose, with the ship, was endeavoring to prevent them. He had followed the tower through Time. Two speeding phantoms! The ship could wing its way directly through the tower without contact— when they were speeding phantoms! But not if they stopped.

The tower showed again.Abrief wraith of it. Just aninstant; but in that instant the ship also materialized, circling, darting. Then they both were gone.

Would San dare stop? Would he risk that Bluntnose might wreck the ship and kill himself, just to wreck the tower?

Another moment. Again the phantoms showed. The ship was slightly above the tower, and to one side. The tower did not pass. In a breath it materialized into solidity before us. My heart seemed to stop. San had dared!

The ship seemed half to turn. And then the wraith of it vanished!

Bluntnose had not dared risk it.

From the tower came Lea and San, dragging apparatus. The projector! They had been successful. The guards in the street were shouting triumphantly. A turmoil was around us. I stood at the foot of the tower steps; I saw Lea fling herself impulsively into Alan’s waiting arms. The tower, with San, sped safely away.

But my heart was cold. Whatever the outcome here, a fairyland of happiness for me was gone—the lost what-might-have-been for Nanette, and me.