EARTH S LAST CITADEL Copyright, 1943, by Popular Publications, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher. All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. An ACE Book Printed in U.S.A. EARTH'S LAST CITADEL PROLOGUE BEHIND THE LOW ridge of rock to the north was the Mediterranean. Alan Drake could hear it and smell it. The bitter chill of the North African night cut through his torn uniform, but sporadic flares of whiteness from the sea battle seemed to give him warmth, somehow. Out there the big guns were blasting, the battlewagons thundering their fury. This was it. And he wasn't in it?not this time. His job was to bring Sir Colin safely out of the Tunisian desert. That, it seemed, was important. Squatting in the cold sand, Alan ignored the Scots scientist huddled beside him, to stare at the ridge as though his gaze could hurdle its summit and leap out to where the ships were fighting. Behind him, from the south, came the deep echoing noise of heavy artillery. That, he knew, was one jaw of the trap that was closing on him. The tides of war changed so swiftly?there was nothing for them now but heading blindly for the Mediterranean and safety. He had got Sir Colin out of one Nazi trap already, two breathless days ago. ButColinDouglas was too valuable a man for either side to forget easily. And the Nazis would be following. They were between the lines now, lost, trying desperately to reach safety and stay hidden. Somewhere in the night sky a nearing plane droned high. Moonlight glinted on Drake's smooth blond head as he leaped for the shadow of a dune, signaling Sir Colin fiercely. Drake crouched askew, favoring his left side where a bullet gouge ran aslant up one powerful forearm and disappeared under his torn sleeve. He'd got that two nights ago in the Nazi raid, when he snatched Sir Colin away barely in time. Army Intelligence meant such work, very often. Drake was a good man for his job, which was dangerous. A glance at his tight-lipped poker-face would have told that. It was a face of curious contrasts. Opponents were at a loss trying to gauge his character by one contradictory feature or the other; more often than not they guessed wrong. The plane's droning roar was very near now. It shook the whole sky with a canopy of sound. Sir Colin said impersonally, huddled against the dune: "That meteor we saw last night?must have fallen near here, eh?" There were stories about Sir Colin. His mind was a great one, but until the war he had detested having to use it. Science was only his avocation. He preferred the pleasures which food and liquor and society supplied. A decadent Epicurus with an Einstein brain?strange combination. And yet his technical skill?he was a top-rank physicist?had been of enormous value to the Allies. "Meteor?" Drake said. "I'm not worried about that. But the plane?" He glanced up futilely. The plane was drawing farther away. "If they spotted us. . . ." Sir Colin scratched himself shamelessly. "I could do with a plane now. There seemed to be fleas in Tunisia ?carnivorous sand-fleas, be damned to them." "You'd better worry about that plane?and what's in it." Sir Colin glanced up thoughtfully. "What?" "A dollar to a sand-flea it's Karen Martin." "Oh." Sir Colin grimaced. "Her again. Maybe this time we'll meet." "She's a bad egg, Sir Colin. If she's really after us, we're in for trouble." The big Scotsman grunted. "An Amazon, eh?" "You'dbe surprised. She's damned clever. She and her sidekick draw good pay from the Nazis, and earn it, too. You know Mike Smith?" "An American?" Sir Colin scratched again. "Americanized German. He's got a bad history, too. Racketeer, I think, until Repeal. When the Nazis got going, he headed back for Germany. Killing's his profession, and their routine suits him. He and Karen make a really dangerous team." The Scotsman got laboriously to his feet, looking after the vanished plane. "Well," he said, "if that was the team, they'll be back." "And we'd better not be here." Drake scrambled up, nursing his arm. The Scotsman shrugged and jerked his thumb forward. Drake grinned. His blue eyes, almost black under the shadow of the full lids, held expressionless impassivity. Even when he smiled, as he did now, the eyes did not change. "Come on," he said. The sand was cold; night made it pale as snow in the faint moonlight. Guns were still clamoring as the two men moved toward the ridge. Beyond it lay the Mediterranean and, perhaps, safety. Beyond it lay?something else. In the cup that sloped down softly to the darkened sea was?a crater. A shimmering glow lay halfburied in the up-splashed earth. Ovoid-shaped, that glow. Its mass was like a monstrous radiant coal in the dimness. For a long moment the two men stood silent. Then, "Meteor?" Drake asked. There was incredulity in the scientist's voice. "It can't be a meteor. They're never that regular. The atmosphere heated it to incandescence, but see?the surface isn't even pitted. If this weren't war I'd almost think it was"?he brought out the words after a perceptible pause?"some kind of manmade ship from?" Drake was conscious of a strange excitement. "You mean, more likely it's some Axis super-tank?" Sir Colin didn't answer. Caution forgotten, he had started hastily down the slope. There was a faint droning in the air now. Drake could not be sure if it was a returning plane, or if it came from the great globe itself. He followed the Scotsman, but more warily. It was very quiet here in the valley. Even the shore birds must have been frightened away. The seabattle had moved eastward; only a breeze stirred through the sparse bushes with a murmur of leaves. A glow rippled and darkened and ran HRe flame over the red-hot metal above them when the wind played upon those smooth, high surfaces. The air still had an oddly scorched smell. The night silence in the valley had been so deep that when Drake heard the first faint crackling in the scrubby desert brush he found that he had whirled, gun ready, without realizing it. "Don't shoot," a girl's light voice said from the darkness. "Weren't you expecting me?" Drake kept his pistol raised. There was an annoying coldness in the pit of his stomach. Sir Colin, he saw, from the corner of his eye, had stepped back into the dark. "Karen Martin, isn't it?" Drake said. And his skin crawled with the expectation of a bullet from the night shadows. It was Sir Colin they wanted alive, not himself. A low laugh in the dark, and a slim, pale figure took shape in the wavering glow from the meteor. "Right. What luck, our meeting like this!" Underbrush crashed behind her and another shape emerged from the bushes. ButDrake was watching Karen. He had met her before, and he had no illusions about the girl. He remembered how she had fought her way up in Europe, using slyness, using trickery, using ruthlessness as a man would use his fists. The new Germany had liked that unscrupulousness, needed it?used it. All the better that it came packaged in slim, curved flesh, bronze-curled, blue-eyed, with shadowy dimples and a mouth like red velvet, the unstable brilliance of many mixed races shining in her eyes. Drake was scowling, finger motionless on the gun-trigger. He was, he knew, in a bad spot just now, silhouetted against the brilliance of the?the thing from the sky. But Sir Colin was still hidden, and he had a gun. "Mike," Karen said, "you haven't met Alan Drake. Army Intelligence?American." A deep, lazy voice from beyond the girl said, "Better drop the gun, buddy. You're a good target." Drake hesitated. There was no sign from Sir Colin. That meant,?what? Karen and Mike Smith were probably not alone. Others might be following, and swift action should be in order. He saw Karen's eyes lifting past him to the glowing surface above. In its red reflection her face was very curious. Her voice, irritating sure of itself, carried on the ironic pretense of politeness. "What have we here?" she inquired lightly. "Not a tank? The High Command will be interested?" She stepped aside for a better look. Drake said dryly, "Maybe it's a ship from outer space. Maybe there's something inside?" There was. The astonishing certainty of that suddenly filled his mind, stilling all other thought. For an incredible instant the moonlit valley wavered around him as a probing and a questioning fumbled through his brain. Karen took two uncertain backward steps, the self-confidence wiped off her face by blank amazement, as if the questioning had invaded her mind too. Behind her Mike Smith swore abruptly in a bewildered undertone. The air seemed to quiver through the Mediterranean valley, as if an inconceivable Presence had suddenly brimmed it from wall to wall. Then Sir Colin's voice spoke from the dark. "Drop your guns, you two. Quick. I can?" His voice died. Suddenly, silently, without warning, the valley all around them sprang into brilliant light. Time stopped for a moment, and Drake across Karen's red head could see Mike hesitate with lifted gun, see the gangling Sir Colin tense a dozen feet beyond, see every leaf and twig in the underbrush with unbearable distinctness. Then the light sank. The glare that had sprung out from the great globe withdrew inward, like a tangible thing, and a smooth, soft, blinding darkness followed after. When sight returned to them, the globe was a great pale moon res...
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