Lord of Janissaries Read Online Free

certain they were in space. That decided one thing: they certainly didn’t need any shooting. Not that there was anything to shoot at, but there were a lot of weapons available, and some might punch holes in the ship. The metal walls didn’t seem too thick, and Rick had no idea of how strong they might be. Even supposing they could blow open a door and found air beyond it, and that they could go through the ship and kill or capture every alien in it—what then? They couldn’t fly it; they couldn’t land it; they couldn’t even operate the food and water and air system.
    And so far no one had threatened them.
    * * *
    Two hours later they were all certain they were in space. There was a brief warning tone, and a voice said, “There will be a period of no-weight. Please secure all equipment and secure yourselves.”
    The only thing they could secure themselves to was a low bar a bit above waist height that ran around two sides of the compartment like the rails ballet dancers use for exercise. Rick managed to get most of the troops over to those walls. They tied lines to as much of the gear as they could. They were just finishing when there was another musical tone.
    They had no weight at all. Loose objects drifted slowly. Several men looked sick, and one was. The vomit floated around in large pools. Other men turned green.
    “Jesus, we got to get out of here!” one soldier yelled.
    “Shut up!” Elliot didn’t look too good himself. “Captain—”
    He didn’t finish the question. The ship went through more gyrations, none very severe. Then, slowly, everything drifting in the air began to settle toward the deck. They felt increasing weight, building up to what seemed almost—but not quite—normal again.
    This time it was much harder to calm the troops. They hung onto their weapons and stared around the compartment looking for someone to fight, something they could do. Rick thought he could literally smell the fear in the compartment, and it was contagious. He felt like a caged animal.
    “For God’s sake, where are we going?” Gengrich demanded.
    “The journey will last two more hours,” the voice said. It spoke from nowhere at all.
    “So they can listen to us,” Parsons said. He lowered his voice to an undertone. “Are you certain there is nothing else you wish to tell me?”
    “Not just now.”
    Parsons shrugged. “As you will. But I hope this does not last much more than a few hours. It will be difficult to control the men if it goes on much longer.” He made a wry face. “It will be difficult to control me.”
    “Yeah,” Rick said. He knew exactly how André Parsons felt.
    * * *
    The voice’s time estimate was accurate. Rick’s watch said they had been aboard for four hours and five minutes when the warning tones sounded again and they were told to secure themselves.
    This time they never had a period of no-weight, but the accelerations were short and sharp, in little spurts. There were periods of varying gravity between spurts. Finally they felt a slight impact, no more than they might have felt jumping from a chair to the floor. The accelerations ceased.
    They didn’t weigh enough. Nowhere near enough, and this was steady. Rick looked around in surprise, a wild suspicion coming to his mind. Some of the troops were muttering. Corporal Gengrich thoughtfully took a cartridge from his pocket and dropped it, watched it fall slowly.
    About one-sixth gravity, Rick thought. There was no hiding that, and no hiding what it meant.
    Gengrich shouted it first. “God Almighty, we’re on the friggin’ Moon!”

3

    The troopers had little time to react to Gengrich. The compartment door opened, and Corporal Mason came in. His face looked like grey ashes, and he held his right arm against his chest. The compartment door remained open to the entry chamber, but all the other doors were closed.
    “Mason—”
    “Where the hell you been?”
    “What’s wrong, Art? What in hell did they do to you?”
    The men