They tried to increase speed, but the dreamlike adrenalin flight was no longer possible for them. They were breathing in noisy rasps, and their limbs felt as though they were made of lead. Their feet were slapping loudly on the pavement, a sign that they were both nearing total exhaustion. They were on the verge of collapse, whereas the huge war machines—propelled by some devilish concentration of energy—were maintaining their relentless speed. There seemed to be a note of exultation in the harsh chorus of their gear trains.
With Petra still in the lead, the pair broke through a stand of tall grass, knees sagging at every step, and saw ahead of them a rocky knoll, on top of which was what appeared to be the ruins of a temple. The knoll was surrounded by a water-filled channel which was spanned at one point by a slender marble bridge.
“Across the bridge,” Petra gasped.
They ran towards the bridge, using up the last dregs of their strength, and reached it with the thundering tanks barely ten paces behind. They threw themselves on to the bridge, grabbing its balustrade for support, and by sheer force of will dragged themselves towards the safety of the far side.
The two speeding tanks converged blindly on the bridge and collided with an appalling crash of armour. The impact sent one of them off course. It narrowly missed the bridge and plunged down into the channel, sending curving sheets of water flying in all directions before it disappeared beneath the surface. Simultaneously, the other tank made a slewing correction to its course and came pounding on to the bridge.
Jan, who still had not reached the knoll, felt the marble structure heave violently beneath his feet. There was a piercing crack as the fragile stone beams snapped. He dived forward and grasped some trailing vines as the bridge dropped away from under him, taking the pursuing tank with it.
He clung desperately to the vines as an upflung wave of water smashed over him and seethed back into the moat, then he felt Petra’s strong hands helping him to drag himself up on to the solid rock of the knoll. “Hold on,” she urged. “You’re almost there.” Jan was unable to reply because he had inadvertently swallowed some brackish water, but within seconds of reaching dry land he was able to sit up and take stock of the situation. There was no trace of the death-dealing war machines except for clashing ripples in the turgid water, and the struggling shapes of wounded fish. Although it could hardly have been intended as such, the moat which surrounded the knoll had served as a perfect tank trap.
“We were lucky again,” Jan finally managed to say.
Petra gave him an appraising stare, wondering if he had yet fully accepted that his brother was dead. “Yes, but how long can that kind of luck hold out?”
“Not much longer,” Jan admitted. “Perhaps we’ve had our full ration already.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Petra was sitting cross-legged on the ground, breathing heavily as she recovered from the second dreadful chase, and Jan could see that for the first time her composure was beginning to crack. She was trembling slightly and her face bore a hunted expression, the blue eyes dulled with weariness and apprehension.
“In that case…” Jan paused, swallowing painfully. His grief over the loss of his brother was returning in full spate now that the immediate threat to their lives had been lifted, but at least he had been freed from the heavy load of obligation which had burdened him for years.
“In that case,” he said more firmly, “the sensible thing to do would be to head back to the Seeker and blast off for home.”
Chapter Seven
The decision to abandon the mission having been made, they scanned the surrounding plain, taking advantage of the slight elevation they had attained, checking for any sign of movement in the scattered military equipment. All was quiet for the moment, as though the mysterious force which could propel tanks without help from their engines, had expended its fury for the time being. The only semblance of life came from the lightning which stalked the horizons, growling in the insubstantial throat of the atmosphere.
They knew they should get back to the rocket ship without delay and leave Verdia behind as quickly as possible, but they were now desperately tired and in need of an interlude in which to regain their strength.
“How do you feel about resting for a few minutes before we set out?” Petra said. “I never thought I would say this, but I’m so hungry I’m even looking forward to eating some more of that awful tennis-shoe toffee.”
“It would be a good idea to have a break.” Jan glanced around. “But I’d feel safer if we were under cover.”
Petra looked up the slope and saw a break in the wall of the circular ruin which crowned the knoll. “Let’s try up there—we might be able to get into the old building.”
They stood up and climbed slowly to the gap in the wall. The space beyond was largely taken up by collapsed walls and roof beams, but they could see an opening to a small chamber which had remained more-or-less intact. They unslung their bows, squeezed their way into the chamber and flopped down in the near-darkness with sighs of relief. The watery grey radiance which managed to penetrate down through the clouds was too weak to illuminate the interior of the chamber to any great extent, but they did not mind. It was purely psychological, they knew, but they felt more secure in the near-darkness, as might hunted animals sheltering in a burrow.
They had come a long way since they had brashly undertaken to conquer the Killer Planet.
“I think we’ll be all right here for a while,” Jan said. “You know, it seems ages since we had that drop of champagne in the office—but it was only this morning. So much has happened.”
“Too much, if you ask me.”
“Yes, but at least we’re going back now. Just think! If we make good progress back to the Seeker—and get picked up quickly when we get into orbit—we might even be back in Jacksonville by nightfall on the same day. That’s if the quarantine police don’t lock us up for too long.”
“They’d better not try it,” Petra said. “I’ve got things to do at home.”
“Yeah, and I need to tell Dad about Bari as soon as possible. He’s entitled to know, to have his mind put at rest. Once that’s been done I might feel as though I had achieved something—little though it is.”
“You have achieved a lot, Jan.” Petra was silent for a moment. “I’m only sorry you had to find out at last that your brother is…”
“Dead,” he supplied for her. “You don’t need to avoid the word—I’m getting over the first shock of it now and I’m starting to get reconciled to the idea. In an odd way, I think I have always known the truth—somewhere deep down inside me—but I couldn’t admit it to myself. Perhaps Dad was the same. Your mind can behave strangely. This way, knowing that Bari is at peace, we can all be at peace…eventually…”
Jan’s voice broke with emotion and suddenly, there in the darkness of the ruined alien temple, the tears he had held back earlier were coursing down his cheeks. He felt Petra’s arm steal around him and he buried his face in her shoulder as bitter sobs racked his body. After a while the act of expressing grief, and the simple comfort of human contact, did their healing work and he sat up feeling emotionally wrung-out but strangely relieved. The inner warfare between his subconscious and conscious mind had ceased, and there was a blessed quietude at the core of his being.