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diff --git a/old/30330.txt b/old/30330.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b6b113 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/30330.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1056 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of High Dragon Bump, by Don Thompson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: High Dragon Bump + +Author: Don Thompson + +Illustrator: Paul Orban + +Release Date: October 25, 2009 [EBook #30330] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIGH DRAGON BUMP *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: _Illustrated by Paul Orban_] + + +High Dragon Bump + +BY DON THOMPSON + + + _If it took reduction or torch + hair, the Cirissins wanted a + bump. Hokum, thistle, gluck._ + + +A young and very beautiful girl with golden blond hair and smooth skin +the color of creamed sweet potatoes floated in the middle of the +windowless metal room into which Wayne Brighton drifted. The girl was +not exactly naked, but her few filmy clothes concealed nothing. + +Wayne cleared his throat, his apprehension changing rapidly to +confusion. + +"_You_ are going to _reduce_ me?" he asked. + +"The word is seduce, mister," the girl said. "They told me reduce, too, +but they don't talk real good, and I think I'm supposed to seduce you so +you'll tell 'em something, and then they'll let me go. I guess. I hope. +What is it they wantcha to tell 'em?" + +Wayne cleared his throat again, striving merely to keep a firm grip on +his sanity. Things had been happening much too fast for him to have +retained anything like his customary composure. + +He said, "Well, they want me to get them a, uh--well, a high dragon +bump." He pronounced the words carefully. + +"So why dontcha?" the girl asked. + +Wayne's voice rose. "I don't even know what it is. I told them and +they don't believe me. Now you're here! I suppose if I can't be +reduced--seduced--into getting them one, it will wind up with torch +hair. Believe me, I never heard of a high dragon bump." + +"Now, don't get panicky!" the girl pleaded. "After all, I'm scared too." + +"I am not scared!" Wayne replied indignantly. But he realized that he +was. + +So far, in the hour or so he'd been a captive of the Cirissins, he'd +managed to keep his fright pretty well subdued. He'd understood almost +at once what had happened, and his first reaction had not been terror or +even any great degree of surprise. + +He was a scientist and he had a scientist's curiosity. + +And at first the Cirissins--or the one that had done all the +talking--had been cooperative in answering his questions. But then, when +he wasn't able to comprehend what they meant by high dragon bump, they'd +started getting impatient. + +"What's your name?" he asked the girl. She was making gentle swimming +motions with her hands and feet, moving gradually closer to him. + +"Sheilah," she said. "Sheilah Ralue. I'm a model. I pose for pitchers. +You know--for sexy magazines and calendars and stuff like that." + +"I see. You were posing when--?" + +"When they snatched me, yeah. Couple hours ago, I guess. The flash bulb +went off and blinded me for a second like it always does, and I seemed +to be falling. Then I was here. Only I still don't even know where here +is. Do you? How come we don't weigh nothing? It's ghastly!" + +"We're in a space ship," Wayne told her. "In free fall, circling earth a +thousand miles or so out. I thought you at least knew we were in a space +ship." + +The girl said, "Oh, bull. We can't be in no space ship. How'd we get +here so fast?" + +"They have a matter transmitter, but I haven't the slightest idea of how +it works. Obviously it's limited to living creatures or they could just +as well have taken whatever it is they want instead of ... You don't +happen to know what a high dragon bump is, do you?" + +"Don't be dumb. Of course I ... well, unless it's a dance or something. +I use to be a dancer, ya know. Sort of." + +"With bubbles, I imagine," Wayne said. + +"Tassels. They was my specialty. But there's more money in posing for +pitchers, and the work ain't quite so--" + +"I doubt that a high dragon bump is a dance," Wayne said. + +Then he rubbed his chin. High dragon bump? Bumps and grinds? Highland +fling? Chinese dragon dances? Hell, why not? + +The idea of space travelers visiting earth to learn a new dance was no +more fantastic than the idea of them being here at all. + +Wayne turned his face to the door and shouted, "Hey, is that it? A +dance? You want us to teach you a dance called the high dragon bump?" + +A muffled metallic voice from the other side said, "Nod danz. Bump. +Huguff quig." + +Wayne shrugged and grinned weakly at Sheilah. "Well, we're making +headway. We know one thing that it isn't." + +The girl had drifted so close to him now that he could feel the warmth +of her body and smell the overwhelming fragrance of her perfume. + +She put one hand on his arm, and Wayne found that he had neither the +strength nor the inclination to jerk away. + +But he protested weakly, "Now, listen, there's no point in you--I +mean--even if we did, I couldn't produce a high dragon bump." + +"What kind of work do you do, mister?" Sheilah asked softly, drawing +herself even closer. "You know, you ain't even told me your name yet." + +"It's Wayne," he said, fumbling in an effort to loosen his tie so he +could breath more easily. "I'm an instructor. I teach physics at Kyler +College, and I've got a weekly science show on TV. In fact I'd just +finished my show when they got me. I was leaving the studio, starting +down the stairs. Thought at first I'd missed a step and was falling, but +I just kept falling. And I landed here, and ... Now, don't do that!" + +"Why, I wasn't doing nothing. Whaddya do on your TV show?" + +"I talk. About science. Physics. Like today, I was discussing the +H-bomb. How it works, you know, and why the fallout is dangerous, +and ... Oh, good Gawd! Seduce, reduce! High dragon bump!" + +He shoved her away from him abruptly and violently and he went hurtling +in the opposite direction. + +"Well, hey!" Sheilah protested. "You don't need to get so rough. I +wasn't going to--" + +"Shut up," Wayne said. "I think I've figured out what the Cirissins +want! + +"Hey! Hey, open the door," he shouted. "I've got to talk to you." + +The door opened and a Cirissin floated in. + +Sheilah turned her head away, shuddering, and Wayne found it wise to +close his eyes and open them little by little to grow re-accustomed to +the sight gradually. + +The only thing he could think of with which to compare the Cirissins was +the intestinal complex of an anemic elephant. + +It was not an entirely satisfactory comparison; but then, from his point +of view, the Cirissins were entirely unsatisfactory creatures. + +Each of the four he had seen was nearly twice his size. They had no +recognizable features such as eyes, ears, nose, head, arms or legs. + +Tentacle-like protrusions of various size and length seemed to serve as +the sensory and prehensile organs. Wayne had identified one waving, +restless flexible stalk as the eye. He suspected another of being the +mouth, except that it apparently wasn't used for talking. The voice came +from somewhere deep inside the convoluted mass of pastel-streaked +tissue. + +"Wand tog?" the Cirissin rumbled. + +Wayne said, "Yes. Do you mind telling me what you want a high dragon +bump _for_?" + +"Blast away hearth," the Cirissin replied unhesitatingly. + +Wayne swallowed and found it unnaturally difficult to do so. + +"To blast away earth?" he said. "You can do that with just one high +dragon bump?" + +"Certificate. Alteration energy maguntoot. Compilated, though. Want +splain?" + +Wayne said, "Never mind. I believe you. Just tell me this: Why? Who do +you feel it's necessary to do it?" + +"Cause _is_ necessary," the Cirissin explained. "Hearth no good. Whee +dun lake. Godda gut red oft." + +Sheilah gasped, "Why the inhuman beasts!" + +Wayne expended one sidelong silencing glance on her and then said, "I +see. And just suppose now that I don't give you a high dragon bump? What +do you do then?" + +"Use hot tummy ache your arnium fishing bumps. Got them us elves. +Tooking longthier, more hurtful, but can. Few don't gives high dragon +bump tweddy far whores, thin godda." + +Wayne was silent for a while, staring at the alien creature, aware of +Sheilah staring at him. + +"Twenty-four hours," he muttered. "Then they use uranium fission bombs. +Oh, hell!" + +Finally he shrugged. "All right, I'll do it. Anyway, I'll try. I'll do +what I can." + +Sheilah said, "Hey, listen mister, you can't ..." + +"Shut up!" Wayne snapped. "How do you know what I can do? You just let +me handle this." + +"No sea juicing?" the Cirissin asked, waving his eye stem at Sheilah. + +"No. No sea juicing, and no torch hair either, please. I just didn't +understand what you wanted at first. Now, if I could talk to your +captain--or, are you the captain?" + +The Cirissin replied, "I spoke man. Name Orealgrailbliqu. Capitate nod +sparking merry can languish. I only earning languish. Gut, hah? Tree +whacks." + +"Uh, yeah, very good indeed," Wayne said. "And in only three weeks! Now, +Mr.--you don't mind if I call you O'Reilly, do you? Well, then, +O'Reilly, do you have any suggestions as to how I should go about +getting you a high dragon bump? You want me to make you one? Or--" + +"Yukon mike?" O'Reilly asked. + +Wayne shrugged modestly. "Of course. With proper materials and +equipment--and enough time." He wondered if there was any chance at all +of convincing O'Reilly of that. + +"Nod mush timeless," O'Reilly said doubtfully. "God gut lab tarry, few +wand lug." + +Wayne hesitated, partly to translate O'Reilly's rumblings and partly to +marvel at an audacious idea taking shape in his mind. + +He said, "Uh, yes, by all means. I _do_ want to look at your laboratory. +Let's go." + +The Cirissin offered no objections to Sheilah accompanying them, so they +followed him, pulling themselves along the tubular corridor by means of +metal rings set in the walls, apparently for that specific purpose. + +It was the same means of propulsion employed by their guide, except that +he used tentacles instead of hands. + +They were more awkward than he, and so they fell behind. + +"Listen, mister," Sheilah said. "You're not really gonna help these +creeps, are ya? Cause, I mean, if you are I'm gonna stop you--one way or +another." + +Wayne looked at her, feeling a deep sadness that anything so gorgeous +could be so stupid. Stirred to self-consciousness by her near-nudity, he +glanced quickly away. + +"Why don't you quit trying to think?" he advised her. "I may not be able +to make a high dragon bump, but so help me I'm going to do my damnedest +to see that they get one. And don't you get any stupid patriotic ideas. +You just keep out of it. Understand?" + +O'Reilly had thrown open a door and was waiting for them. + +Wayne looked inside. + +"Smatter? Dun lake lab tarry?" the Cirissin asked after waiting nearly a +minute for some comment. + +The laboratory probably wasn't adequate to produce a hydrogen bomb, +Wayne realized; but he wasn't at all sure. It was the most complex, +complete and compact laboratory he had ever seen. Its sheer size forced +him to revise upward his estimate of the overall size of the ship. + +Much of the equipment was totally alien to him, but there was also a +great deal that he could at least guess the purpose of. Including a +fabulous array of electronic equipment. + +When Wayne still didn't say anything, the Cirissin closed the door. +"Batter blan," he announced. "Wheeze india buck terth. Cup girlish ear. +Torch herf youdon brink high dragon bump." + +Wayne said, "Huh?" + +"Flow me." O'Reilly led Wayne and Sheilah through a maze of corridors, +tunnels and hatchways, stopping at last to throw open a door and let +Wayne peer into the control cabin of a miniature space ship. + +O'Reilly jumblingly explained that it was a reconnaissance ship, used +for visiting the surface of a planet when it was impractical to land the +mother ship. + +The control board was simple: a few dials, one or two buttons, several +switches and a view plate. It looked too simple. + +Wayne said, "Now, wait. Let's see if I have this straight. You want me +to take this ship to earth and swipe you a high dragon bump. And you're +going to keep Sheilah here and torture her if I don't deliver the goods, +huh?" + +The Cirissin said that was right. "Kwiger butter. Jus bush piggest +putton. Token ley tours gutther." + +"I see. And what about communications?" Wayne asked. "Is the boat +equipped with radio? How can I let you know when I have your high dragon +bump?" + +O'Reilly said, "Can't. Combundlecations Cirissin only." + +From his further explanation Wayne gathered that communications between +the two ships was on the basis of some sort of amplified brain waves, +and could carry only the brain waves of Cirissins. + +Wayne considered the situation. + +Two hours to get to earth. No radio. The big Cirissin ship was circling +earth at an unknown distance, unknown speed and unknown direction. And +although the ship was enormous, it would be impossible to spot it from +earth unless you knew exactly where to look. + +He said, "It would really be better, wouldn't it, if I could make the +high dragon bump right here?" + +O'Reilly agreed that it would be better. + +"Well, let me try. You've got a good lab, and we have plenty of time. +Twenty-four hours, you said? Well, give me about ten hours in the +laboratory. If I can't produce a high dragon bump in that time I'll take +the small ship down and get you one. Okay?" + +While the Cirissin thought it over in meditative silence Wayne was aware +of Sheilah watching him with cold, hostile eyes. He wished he could +explain things to her, but he didn't dare try. + +Finally O'Reilly said, "Hokum. Tenners in lab. Thistle." + +"It'll be enough," Wayne assured him. + + * * * * * + +Sheilah was taken back to the room where Wayne had met her and the +Cirissin instructed her to stay there. He closed the door but did not +lock it. Then he took Wayne back to the lab. + +"Neediest hulp?" he asked. + +"Hulp? Help? Uh ... Why, no. No, thanks. I can manage fine by myself. In +fact I'd rather work alone. Fewer distractions the better, you know." + +"Hack saw lent. Wheel buzzy preparation. In trol room few deriding hulp +needed." Then O'Reilly floated out the door. + +Wayne was astounded. He'd taken it for granted that the Cirissin would +insist on supervising him, and he'd been evolving elaborate plans for +escaping his attention. + +But Wayne thought he had the explanation for the Cirissins' idiotic +behavior. + +This ship and everything about it indicated an extremely high +intelligence and an advanced culture. + +Everything, that is, but the Cirissins themselves. + +The idea of kidnapping him from earth to provide them with a weapon to +destroy earth; kidnapping Sheilah to seduce him; the idea of even +expecting him to be _able_ to produce such a weapon--it was all idiotic. + +There was only one explanation that he could see. + +The Cirissins _were_ idiots. + +Some other race had produced this ship. These cosmic degenerates had +somehow gotten hold of it and were on a mad binge through the universe, +destroying all the worlds they didn't like. + +He wondered how many they'd already wiped out. They had to be stopped. + +Wayne immediately started constructing a radio transmitter from +convenient materials in the laboratory. It was fairly simple. + +He was not interrupted for nearly two hours. At which time he was saying +into his improvised microphone: + +"Seven hours? That long? Can't make it any sooner than that? Five hours? +Six?" + +And then it was not a Cirissin voice behind him which said: "Drop that. +Put up your hands and turn around!" + +It was Sheilah. + +Wayne turned and saw her floating at the doorway pointing a long, +tubular metal object at him, her finger poised on a protruding lever. + +"What's that?" Wayne asked. + +Sheilah said, "It's a gun I found after lookin' all over the damn ship. +I'm going to kill you. And then I'm going to kill your Cirissin friends. +You're nothing but a dirty traitor, and I wouldn't seduce you if--I +never did trust you scientists. Maybe I'll be killed, too, but I don't +care." She was close to tears. + +"You're going to kill me?" Wayne said. "With that? How do you know it's +even a gun? Looks more like a fire extinguisher to me. Aw, you poor +little imbecile, I haven't had a chance to explain yet, but--" + +Sheilah said, "You make me sick." She pulled the trigger. + +The object was not a fire extinguisher, after all. It was quite +obviously a weapon of some kind. + +Also it seemed obvious that Sheilah had been pointing the wrong end of +the weapon toward Wayne. + +One more obvious fact that Wayne had time to comprehend was that the +weapon was not a recoilless type. + +But by then Sheilah had gone limp and the gun had rebounded from her +grasp and was sailing at Wayne's head. + +He ducked but not fast enough. The object whacked him solidly on top of +his head. + +His brain exploded into a display of dazzling lights, excruciating pain +and deafening noise. + +Then the lights went out and a long, dense silence set in. + +When Wayne fought through the layers of renewed pain and opened his +eyes, he was still floating near his makeshift radio equipment in the +laboratory. + +Sheilah still hung limply in mid-air near the door. The tubular weapon +wavered near the ceiling. The radio transmitter was still open. + +It was just as though he'd been unconscious no more than a few minutes. +But Wayne had a strong feeling that it had been more than that. + +Therefore he was only shocked, rather than stunned, when a glance at his +wristwatch indicated six hours and forty minutes had elapsed. + +He held his head tightly in both hands to keep it from flying off in all +directions at once, and he tried to think. + +He knew it was important to think--fast and straight. + +Six hours and forty minutes. + +That was too long to be unconscious from a simple blow on the head, and +his head didn't really hurt that bad. + +Probably the weapon had still been firing whatever mysterious ammunition +it used when it struck him; and when it bounced off his head it had +turned, and he'd been caught in its blast. + +But that didn't matter. That wasn't the important thing. + +Six hours and forty minutes he'd been out. + +Seven hours! + +The Defense Department official he'd spoken to had told him seven hours. + +And thank God it wasn't five hours or six, as he'd been urging them to +make it. + +Anyway he had only twenty minutes now. Possibly a little more, but just +as likely less. + +That realization should have spurred him to instantaneous and heroic +action, but instead it paralyzed him for several minutes. He couldn't +think what to do. He couldn't get his muscles and nerves functioning and +coordinated. + +The absence of gravity didn't help. He thrashed about futilely. + +But at last, almost by accident, his feet touched a metal support beam, +and he pushed himself toward Sheilah. He grabbed her around the waist +with one arm and with his free hand pulled both of them through the +door. + +It seemed a long, long time before he got Sheilah to the reconnaissance +ship. By then the twenty minutes were up. His life was going into +overtime. + +Sheilah was conscious but still disorganized and limp, struggling weakly +and ineffectually. Wayne fumbled with the door, got it open and shoved +her inside. + +Then he pulled himself in and closed the door. + +They might make it yet. They still had a chance. + +He studied the control board, deciding on the proper button to push. + +From behind him Sheilah screamed, "The bomb! You've got the bomb and +you're going to--Well, you're not!" + +Her body slammed against his shoulders and her arms encircled his neck. +Her fingers clawed at his eyes. + +Wayne struggled, not to free himself, but only to get one hand loose, to +reach the control board. When he did get a hand free, they had floated +too far from the controls. + +"Stop it, you stupid bitch!" Wayne snarled. "You're going to kill us +both!" + +Wayne said, "Listen, there's a guided missile from earth heading +straight for this ship, and it has a hydrogen bomb warhead. It'll get +here any minute now and when it--" + +His words were broken off by the tremendous roar and concussion of the +hydrogen bomb. + +Wayne's last thought before oblivion swallowed him was that they +wouldn't have had time to escape, anyway. + +But that wasn't the end. Wayne woke up enough to refuse to believe he +was alive, and O'Reilly was somewhere near, telling him: + +"Cirissins full of grate your forts. Radio eggulant blan. Thankel +normous. Rid of earth now. Blasted away. Givish _good_ high dragon bump. +Yukon gome now." + +Wayne groaned. The meaning of O'Reilly's words was trying to get through +to his brain, and he was trying desperately to keep the meaning out. + +O'Reilly's voice receded into a thick gray fog. "Keep shib. Shores. +Presirent felpings. Gluck." + +Metal slammed against metal. Wayne slammed against something hard. And +darkness closed in once again. + +But this time it wasn't so smothering and didn't last nearly so long. + +When he opened his eyes his head was clear. He wasn't floating. He was +lying on something hard--a floor surface of the Cirissin landing ship. +He didn't ache anywhere. + +All in all he felt pretty good. + +For the first few seconds. + +Then he started remembering things, and he wished he hadn't bothered to +wake up. + +Sheilah was standing by the control panel, her back to him. She blocked +the view screen, but Wayne didn't want to see it anyway. He wasn't even +curious. + +Sheilah turned, saw him, smiled broadly. + +She said, "Gee, mister, I guess you're a hero. I dunno how you done it, +but you made 'em go away, and you made 'em turn us loose." Wayne could +detect no mockery or bitterness in her voice. + +"Aw, shut up," he growled. + +"You still mad at me cause of what I done? Well, gee, I'm sorry. I +didn't get whatcha were up to. I guess I still don't, but ... Oh, hell, +let's don't fight about it. It don't matter now, does it?" + +Wayne shook his head wearily. "No," he agreed. "It doesn't matter now." + +Sheilah moved away from the control board and came toward him. In her +filmy, transparent costume, she was the quintessence of womanly allure. + +Wayne gasped and stared, but not at her. + +The view screen had become visible when she'd moved. + +It showed earth. + +Or a curved, cloud-veiled slice of earth. Intact, serene and growing +steadily larger. + +"What the hell! Why, I thought ..." Wayne jumped to his feet, brushed +past Sheilah and peered more closely at the view plate. There was no +mistaking it. Earth. + +"What's a matter with you, mister?" Sheilah asked. + +Wayne felt dizzy. O'Reilly had said, "Earth blasted away," hadn't he? +And the H-bomb hadn't destroyed the Cirissin ship. Therefore ... Well, +therefore what? + +In the first place what O'Reilly had actually said was, "Rid of earth +now. Blasted away." It wasn't quite the same as ... + +O'Reilly had never said anything about _destroying_ earth. + +Quite a sizeable re-evaluation project was taking place in Wayne's mind. +It took several minutes for all the pieces to fall into their proper +places. But once he was willing to realize that the Cirissins had known +what they were doing, everything seemed obvious. + +"Oh, good Gawd!" he muttered. "What utter idiots!" + +"The Cirissins?" Sheilah asked. + +"No, I mean us. Me. Good Lord, just because O'Reilly's English wasn't +perfect! What did I expect for only three weeks? Hummm. The atomic +structure of the entire ship must be uniformly charged to ... Damn! High +dragon bump!" + +"I don't getcha," Sheilah said. "What's with this high dragon bump +business? I thought they wanted a hydrogen bomb to destroy earth, and I +thought you'd agreed to help 'em, and so I thought ..." + +"Oh, never mind," Wayne said. "I know what you thought, and you weren't +any more stupid than I was. We were both wrong. + +"Look, the Cirissins must have been stalled--out of gas, sort of. +Something had gone wrong with their nuclear drive units. They had some +emergency fuel, but they didn't want to use it. Like having a can of +kerosene in the car when the tank runs dry, I suppose. It will work, but +it messes up the engine. You understand so far?" + +"Sure." + +"Okay then. They happened to be close to earth, so they went into an +orbit around it and studied it for a while on radio and TV bands, and +realized they might be able to get help without using their emergency +fuel--uranium, incidentally, not kerosene. + +"So they grabbed us. Me, I suppose because they'd seen my TV science +program. They must have gotten the idea from some stupid spy show that +scientists have to be seduced into revealing information. That's why +they picked up you." + +Sheilah interrupted, "But what did they _want_? I thought ..." + +Patiently, Wayne said, "Just what they said. A high dragon bump. A +_bump_, not a bomb. A boost, a push. Not to blast away earth, but to +blast away _from_ earth. That's all." + + + END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_ June + 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and + typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of High Dragon Bump, by Don Thompson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIGH DRAGON BUMP *** + +***** This file should be named 30330.txt or 30330.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/3/3/30330/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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