PRODIGAL WEAPON
by VASELEOS GARSON
They were the pitiful remnants of a proud world,
huddled into slave quarters on Karrar, dying
before the cold brutality of the Kraks, seeking
the Achilles' heel in the armor of their
masters. One man alone still fought them—even
he knowing he battled with a lance of straw.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Nothing new ... this. The viewpoint, maybe, was different, this time.The script was the same, only there were new actors in the cast ofcharacters.
Human historians had written the story over and over. Even the Kraksprobably had a parallel story in their world.
Sean McKenna flinched a little as the beam of the thin yellow light bitinto his left shoulder, burning a crooked X into the tanned flesh. Thenwith a shrug, Sean nodded his red-thatched head slightly, moved intothe rapidly growing queue of humans who watched the Krak counters withvaried expressions, most of them quietly despairing.
Sean accepted his destiny with a slanted smile.
He, too, stared steadily at the impassive-faced Kraks whose nakedtorsos and hairless round heads glistened with sweat in the afternoonof Earth's sun.
He thought: They have two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, one body,two arms and two legs just like us humans. But they are something apartfrom us, for they are the masters and we—his mind shrugged—are theslaves.
Sean fixed his green eyes on the scarlet-kilted Krak whose light hadso emotionlessly added him to the cargo of slaves for the Krak's homeplanet somewhere out in the reaches of space.
Sean grew aware of the monotonous voice of a Krak, tolling out whatmust be numbers as the yellow lights in the hands of other Kraksflicked haphazardly among the other residents of Sean's village.Then the monotonous voice sharpened, and the yellow lights stoppedflickering.
There was silence then for a brief moment, while the eyes of thosechosen and those left behind touched briefly, despairingly. In thatsilence, Sean heard her voice and the quietness with which he hadaccepted the end of his earthly life almost vanished.
"Oh, Sean," she cried. "They didn't take me!" Sean's eyes darted tothe edge of the crowd to where she stood, her arms stretched outsupplicatingly to him; her soft red lips quivering; her blue eyesbrimming; her soft black hair caressed by the afternoon wind.
Sean broke out of line then, almost running toward her. Thescarlet-kilted Krak who had marked him reached out a restraining hand.His fingers bit into Sean's arm until the blood spurted; the shock ofpain from his arm held in the Krak's unbreakable hold halted him.
He looked at her quietly then shrugged, and marched back to his placein the line.
He was unmindful of the pain in his wrenched arm as he moved along withthe rest up the slanted walk to the oval door of the space ship. At thetop he turned, and his voice rose above the murmur of the crowd.
"I'll come back, Maureen," he said, and blew her a kiss from hisfingertips. Then he stepped into the darkness, following those othersbefore him.
In the gloom, someone said: "Always the gallant one, eh, Sean? You knowdamn well that you'll never see Earth again. No one who ever le