Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [90]
Jerry Cornelius knew what the giant towers were. Michelson’s Stroboscope Type 8. The eye was trapped by them and so were the limbs, the will. Pseudo-epilepsy was only one result of watching them for too long.
The wind and the hissing towers produced a high-pitched, ululating whine. Round and round, faster and faster, whirled the towers, with bright metal colours replacing the primaries—silver, bronze, gold, copper, steel.
First the eye and then the mind, thought Jerry.
He saw that one of the mercenaries on the boat stood transfixed; glazed, unblinking eyes staring up at the huge stroboscopes. His limbs were stiff.
A searchlight found him, and, from two concrete emplacements on the cliff, machine-guns smacked a couple of dozen rounds into him.
His bloody body was thrown violently backward; it softened and collapsed. Jerry was still yelling at him to take his eyes away from the stroboscopes.
Jerry stopped yelling. He hadn’t expected such a display of violence so soon. Evidently Frank wasn’t taking chances. He crouched behind the cabin as the boats drifted towards the cliffs. The overhang offered them some shelter.
Within a minute the towers were no longer visible. They had been designed primarily for use against land attack.
As his boat bumped against the hoverlaunch, Jerry glanced at the body of the dead mercenary. It represented the start of an interesting anarchic process.
He leaned over and got a grip on a handrail, hauling himself aboard the hoverlaunch. He took out his needle gun and held it in his gloved right hand.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Cornelius,” said Miss Brunner, her legs astraddle, her hair blowing back from her head.
Jerry walked forward as the hoverlaunch knocked itself against the cliff. Behind him a mercenary jumped to the deck of his boat and made it fast.
Another mercenary—darkly tanned, with oiled, wavy hair—came forward holding a suction mine intended to destroy the door. The man steadied himself and bent to attach it to the spot Jerry indicated. They backed up the deck as the mine exploded, bits of wreckage pattering down.
The door was open.
Jerry led the way forward, put his foot on the handrail, and pushed himself into the opening. He began to walk down the short passage.
The main force of mercenaries, dressed in the lightweight khaki they were never without, followed him with their machine-guns ready. Behind them, not so swiftly, stepped Mr. Smiles, Miss Brunner and Dimitri, Mr. Crookshank, and Mr. Powys. They all carried their big machine pistols awkwardly.
An explosion rocked the cliff. They looked back as fire spread over the water.
“Let’s hope they don’t spend too much time on the boats,” Mr. Smiles said, speaking adenoidally because his nostrils were stuffed with the filters that Jerry had issued to them all.
Jerry reached the inner room and pointed at two places on the walls. The leading mercenary raised his gun and shot out the two cameras. From the control chamber above, the lights were switched off by way of retaliation.
“Frank’s found this entrance, anyway,” Jerry said. It was really only what he’d expected.
The mercenaries now unhooked heavy helmets from their belts and fitted them on their heads. The helmets were equipped with miners’ lamps. One mercenary had a long coil of nylon rope over his shoulder.
“Perhaps the lift’s still working?” Mr. Powys suggested as Jerry set foot on the ladder.
“Probably.” Jerry began to climb. “But we’d look great if they switched the power off when we were halfway up.”
They all started to climb. Miss Brunner went last. As she put her foot on the first rung, she said thoughtfully, “Silly. They forgot to electrify the ladder.”
Jerry heard some sounds above.