Sheer efficiency and good management can
make a monopoly grow into being. And once
it grows, someone with a tyrant mind is
going to try to use it as a weapon if he can—
make a monopoly grow into being. And once
it grows, someone with a tyrant mind is
going to try to use it as a weapon if he can—
"That
all, chief? Gonna quit now?"
Brian
Hanson looked disgustedly at Pete Brent, his lanky assistant. That was the
first sign of animation he had displayed all day.
"I
am, but you're not," Hanson told him grimly. "Get your notes
straightened up. Run those centrifuge tests and set up the still so we can get
at that vitamin count early in the morning."
"Tomorrow
morning? Aw, for gosh sakes, chief, why don't you take a day off sometime, or
better yet, a night off. It'd do you good to relax. Boy, I know a swell blonde
you could go for. Wait a minute, I've got her radiophone number somewhere—just
ask for Myrtle."
Hanson
shrugged himself out of his smock.
"Never
mind Myrtle, just have that equipment set up for the morning. Good night."
He strode out of the huge laboratory, but his mind was still on the vitamin
research they had been conducting, he barely heard the remarks that followed
him.
"One
of these days the chief is going to have his glands catch up with him."
"Not
a chance," Pete Brent grunted.
Brian
Hanson wondered dispassionately for a moment how his assistants could fail to
be as absorbed as he was by the work they were doing, then he let it go as he
stepped outside the research building.
He paused
and let his eyes lift to the buildings that surrounded the compound. This was
the administrative heart of Venus City. Out here, alone, he let his only known
emotion sweep through him, pride. He had an important role in the building of
this great new city. As head of the Venus Consolidated Research Organization,
he was in large part responsible for the prosperity of this vigorous, young
world. Venus Consolidated had built up this city and practically everything
else that amounted to anything on this planet. True, there had been others,
pioneers, before the company came, who objected to the expansion of the
monopolistic control. But, if they could not realize that the company's regime
served the best interests of the planet, they would just have to suffer the
consequences of their own ignorance. There had been rumors of revolution among
the disgruntled older families.
He heard
there had been killings, but that was nonsense. Venus Consolidated police had
only powers of arrest. Anything involving executions had to be referred to the
Interplanetary Council on Earth. He dismissed the whole business as he did
everything else that did not directly influence his own department.
He
ignored the surface transport system and walked to his own apartment. This walk
was part of a regular routine of physical exercise that kept his body hard and
resilient in spite of long hours spent in the laboratory. As he opened the door
of his apartment he heard the water running into his bath. Perfect timing. He
was making that walk in precisely seven minutes, four and four-fifths seconds.
He undressed and climbed into the tub, relaxing luxuriously in the exhilaration
of irradiated water.
He let
all the problems of his work drift away, his mind was a peaceful blank. Then
someone was hammering on his head. He struggled reluctantly awake. It was the
door that was being attacked, not his head. The battering thunder continued
persistently. He swore and sat up.
"What
do you want?"
There was
no answer; the hammering continued.
"All
right! All right! I'm coming!" He yelled, crawled out of the tub and
reached for his bathrobe. It wasn't there. He swore some more and grabbed a
towel, wrapping it inadequately around him; it didn't quite meet astern. He
paddled wetly across the floor sounding like a flock of ducks on parade.
Retaining
the towel with one hand he inched the door cautiously open.
"What
the devil—" He stopped abruptly at the sight of a policeman's uniform.
"Sorry,
sir, but one of those rebels is loose in the Administration Center somewhere.
We're making a check-up of all the apartments."
"Well,
you can check out; I haven't got any blasted rebels in here." The
policeman's face hardened, then relaxed knowingly.
"Oh,
I see, sir. No rebels, of course. Sorry to have disturbed you. Have a good—Good
night, sir," he saluted and left.
Brian
closed the door in puzzlement. What the devil had that flat-foot been smirking
about? Well, maybe he could get his bath now.
Hanson
turned away from the door and froze in amazement. Through the open door of his
bedroom he could see his bed neatly turned down as it should be, but the
outline under the counterpane and the luxuriant mass of platinum-blond hair on
the pillow was certainly no part of his regular routine.
"Hello."
The voice matched the calm alertness of a pair of deep-blue eyes. Brian just
stared at her in numbed fascination. That was what the policeman had meant with
his insinuating smirk.
"Just
ask for Myrtle." Pete Brent's joking words flashed back to him. Now he got
it. This was probably the young fool's idea of a joke. He'd soon fix that.
"All
right, joke's over, you can beat it now."
"Joke?
I don't see anything funny, unless it's you and that suggestive towel. You
should either abandon it or get one that goes all the way round."
Brian
slowly acquired a complexion suitable for painting fire plugs.
"Shut
up and throw me my dressing gown." He gritted.
The girl
swung her legs out of bed and Brian blinked; she was fully dressed. The snug,
zippered overall suit she wore did nothing to conceal the fact that she was a
female. He wrapped his bathrobe austerely around him.
"Well,
now what?" she asked and looked at him questioningly.
"Well,
what do you think?" he burst out angrily. "I'm going to finish my
bath and I'd suggest you go down to the laboratory and hold hands with Pete.
He'd appreciate it." He got the impression that the girl was struggling
heroically to refrain from laughing and that didn't help his dignity any. He
strode into the bathroom, slammed the door and climbed back into the bath.
The door
opened a little.
"Well,
good-by now." The girl said sweetly. "Remember me to the police
force."
"Get
out of here!" he yelled and the door shut abruptly on a rippling burst of
laughter. Damn women! It was getting so a man had to pack a gun with him or
something. And Pete Brent. He thought with grim satisfaction of the unending
extra work that was going to occur around the laboratory from now on. He sank
back into the soothing liquid embrace of the bath and deliberately set his mind
loose to wander in complete relaxation.
A
hammering thunder burst on the outer door. He sat up with a groan.
"Lay
off, you crazy apes!" he yelled furiously, but the pounding continued
steadily. He struggled out of the bath, wrapped his damp bathrobe clammily
around him and marched to the door with a seething fury of righteous anger
burning within him. He flung the door wide, his mouth all set for a withering
barrage, but he didn't get a chance. Four police constables and a sergeant
swarmed into the room, shoving him away from the door.
"Say!
What the—"
"Where
is she?" the sergeant demanded.
"Wherethehell's
who?"
"Quit
stallin', bud. You know who. That female rebel who was in here."
"Rebel?
You're crazy! That was just ... Pete said ... rebel? Did you say rebel?"
"Yeah,
I said rebel, an' where is she?"
"She
... why ... why ... she left, of course. You don't think I was going to have
women running around in here, do you?"
"She
wuz in his bed when I seen her, sarge," one of the guards contributed.
"But she ain't there now."
"You
don't think that I—"
"Listen,
bud, we don't do the thinkin' around here. You come on along and see the
chief."
Brian had
had about enough. "I'm not going anywhere to see anybody. Maybe you don't
know who I am. You can't arrest me."
Brian
Hanson, Chief of Research for Venus Consolidated, as dignified as possible in a
damp bathrobe, glared out through the bars at a slightly bewildered Pete Brent.
"What
the devil do you want? Haven't you caused enough blasted trouble already?"
"Me?
For gosh sakes, chief—"
"Yes,
you! If sending that damn blonde to my apartment and getting me arrested is your
idea of a joke—"
"But,
my gosh, I didn't send anybody, chief. And this is no joke. That wasn't Myrtle,
that was Crystal James, old man James' daughter. They're about the oldest
family on Venus. Police have been after her for months; she's a rebel and she's
sure been raising plenty of hell around here. She got in and blew out the main
communications control panel last night. Communications been tied up all
day." Pete lowered his voice to an appreciative whisper, "Gosh,
chief, I didn't know you had it in you. How long have you been in with that
bunch? Is that girl as good-looking as they say she is?"
"Now
listen here, Brent. I don't know—"
"Oh,
it's all right, chief. You can trust me. I won't give you away."
"There's
nothing to give away, you fool!" Brian bellowed. "I don't know
anything about any damn rebels. All I want is to get out of here—"
"Gotcha,
chief," Brent whispered understandingly. "I'll see if I can pass the
word along."
"Come
here, you idiot!" Brian screamed after his erstwhile assistant.
"Pipe
down there, bud," a guard's voice cut in chillingly.
Brian
retired to his cell bunk and clutched his aching head in frustrated fury.
For the
nineteenth time Brian Hanson strode to the door of his cell and rattled the
bars.
"Listen
here, guard, you've got to take a message to McHague. You can't hold me here
indefinitely."
"Shut
up. Nobody ain't takin' no message to McHague. I don't care if you are—"
Brian's
eyes almost popped out as he saw a gloved hand reach around the guard's neck
and jam a rag over his nose and mouth. Swift shadows moved expertly before his
astonished gaze. Another guard was caught and silenced as he came around the
end of the corridor. Someone was outside his cell door, a hooded figure which
seemed, somehow, familiar.
"Hello,
pantless!" a voice breathed.
He knew
that voice!
"What
the devil are you doing here?"
"Somebody
by the name of Pete Brent tipped us off that you were in trouble because of me.
But don't worry, we're going to get you out."
"Damn
that fool kid! Leave me alone. I don't want to get out of here that way!"
he yelled wildly. "Guards! Help!"
"Shut
up! Do you want to get us shot?"
"Sure
I do. Guards! Guards!"
Someone
came running.
"Guards
are coming," a voice warned.
He could
hear the girl struggling with the lock.
"Damn,"
she swore viciously. "This is the wrong key! Your goose is sure cooked
now. Whether you like it or not, you'll hang with us when they find us trying
to get you out of here."
Brian
felt as though something had kicked him in the stomach. She was right! He had
to get out now. He wouldn't be able to explain this away.
"Give
me that key," he hissed and grabbed for it.
He
snapped two of the coigns off in the lock and went to work with the rest of the
key. He had designed these escape-proof locks himself. In a few seconds the
door swung open and they were fleeing silently down the jail corridor.
The girl
paused doubtfully at a crossing passage.
"This
way," he snarled and took the lead. He knew the ground plan of this jail
perfectly. He had a moment of wonder at the crazy spectacle of himself, the
fair-haired boy of Venus Consolidated, in his flapping bathrobe, leading a band
of escaping rebels out of the company's best jail.
They
burst around a corner onto a startled guard.
"They're
just ahead of us," Brian yelled. "Come on!"
"Right
with you," the guard snapped and ran a few steps with them before a
blackjack caught up with him and he folded into a corner.
"Down
this way, it's a short cut." Brian led the way to a heavily barred side
door.
The
electric eye tripped a screaming alarm, but the broken key in Brian's hands
opened the complicated lock in a matter of seconds. They were outside the jail
on a side street, the door closed and the lock jammed immovably behind them.
Sirens
wailed. The alarm was out! The street suddenly burst into brilliance as the
floodlights snapped on. Brian faltered to a stop and Crystal James pushed past
him.
"We've
got reinforcements down here," she said, then skidded to a halt. Two guards
barred the street ahead of them.
Brian
felt as though his stomach had fallen down around his ankles and was tying his
feet up. He couldn't move. The door was jammed shut behind them, they'd have to
surrender and there'd be no explaining this break. He started mentally cursing
Pete Brent, when a projector beam slashed viciously by him. These guards
weren't fooling! He heard a gasping grunt of pain as one of the rebels went
down. They were shooting to kill.
He saw a
sudden, convulsive movement from the girl. A black object curved out against
the lights. The sharp, ripping blast of an atomite bomb thundered along the
street and slammed them to the ground. The glare left them blinded. He
struggled to his feet. The guards had vanished, a shallow crater yawned in the
road where they had been.
"We've
got to run!" the girl shouted.
He
started after her. Two surface transport vehicles waited around the corner.
Brian and the rebels bundled into them and took away with a roar. The chase
wasn't organized yet, and they soon lost themselves in the orderly rush of
Venus City traffic.
The two
carloads of rebels cruised nonchalantly past the Administration Center and
pulled into a private garage a little beyond.
"What
are we stopping here for?" Brian demanded. "We've got to get
away."
"That's
just what we're doing," Crystal snapped. "Everybody out."
The
rebels piled out and the cars pulled away to become innocuous parts of the
traffic stream. The rebels seemed to know where they were going and that gave
them the edge on Brian. They followed Crystal down into the garage's repair
pit.
She
fumbled in the darkness a moment, then a darker patch showed as a door swung
open in the side of the pit. They filed into the solid blackness after her and
the door thudded shut. The beam of a torch stabbed through the darkness and
they clambered precariously down a steep, steel stairway.
"Where
the dickens are we?" Brian whispered hoarsely.
"Oh,
you don't have to whisper, we're safe enough here. This is one of the air
shafts leading down to the old mines."
"Old
mines? What old mines?"
"That's
something you newcomers don't know anything about. This whole area was worked
out long before Venus Consolidated came to the planet. These old tunnels run
all under the city."
They went
five hundred feet down the air shaft before they reached a level tunnel.
"What
do we do? Hide here?"
"I
should say not. Serono Zeburzac, head of McHague's secret police will be after
us now. We won't be safe anywhere near Venus City."
"Don't
be crazy. That Serono Zeburzac stuff is just a legend McHague keeps up to scare
people with."
"That's
what you think," Crystal snapped. "McHague's legend got my father and
he'll get all of us unless we run the whole company right off the planet."
"Well,
what the dickens does he look like?" Brian asked doubtfully.
"I
don't know, but his left hand is missing. Dad did some good shooting before he
died," she said grimly.
Brian was
startled at the icy hardness of her voice.
Two of
the rebels pulled a screening tarpaulin aside and revealed one of the old-type
ore cars that must have been used in the ancient mines. A brand-new atomic
motor gleamed incongruously at one end. The rebels crowded into it and they
went rumbling swiftly down the echoing passage. The lights of the car showed
the old working, rotten and crumbling, fallen in in some places and signs of
new work where the rebels had cleared away the debris of years.
Brian
struggled into a zippered overall suit as they followed a twisting, tortuous
course for half an hour, switching from one tunnel to another repeatedly until
he had lost all conception of direction. Crystal James, at the controls, seemed
to know exactly where they were going.
The
tunnel emerged in a huge cavern that gloomed darkly away in every direction.
The towering, massive remains of old machinery, eroded and rotten with age
crouched like ancient, watching skeletons.
"These
were the old stamp mills," the girl said, and her voice seemed to be
swallowed to a whisper in the vast, echoing darkness.
Between
two rows of sentinel ruins they came suddenly on two slim Venusian atmospheric
ships. Dim light spilled over them from a ragged gash in the wall of the
cavern. Brian followed Crystal into the smaller of the two ships and the rest
of the rebels manned the other.
"Wait
a minute, how do we get out of here?" Brian demanded.
"Through
that hole up there," the girl said matter-of-factly.
"You're
crazy, you can't get through there."
"Oh,
yeah? Just watch this." The ship thundered to life beneath them and leaped
off in a full-throttled take-off.
"We're
going to crash! That gap isn't wide enough!"
The sides
of the gap rushed in on the tips of the stubby wings. Brian braced himself for
the crash, but it didn't come. At the last possible second, the ship rolled
smoothly over. At the moment it flashed through the opening it was stood
vertically on edge.
Crystal
held the ship in its roll and completed the maneuver outside the mountain while
Brian struggled to get his internal economy back into some semblance of order.
"That's
some flying," he said as soon as he could speak.
Crystal
looked at him in surprise. "That's nothing. We Venusians fly almost as
soon as we can walk."
"Oh—I
see," Brian said weakly and a few moments later he really did see. Two
big, fast, green ships, carrying the insignia of the Venus Consolidated police,
cruised suddenly out from a mountain air station.
An aërial
torpedo exploded in front of the rebel ship. Crystal's face set in grim lines
as she pulled the ship up in a screaming climb. Brian got up off the floor.
"You
don't have to get excited like that," he complained. "They weren't
trying to hit us."
"That's
what you think," Crystal muttered. "Those children don't play for
peanuts."
"But,
girl, they're just Venus Consolidated police. They haven't got any authority to
shoot anyone."
"Authority
doesn't make much difference to them," Crystal snapped bitterly.
"They've been killing people all over the planet. What do you think this
revolution is about?"
"You
must be mistak—" He slumped to the floor as Crystal threw the ship into a
mad, rolling spin. A tremendous crash thundered close astern.
"I
guess that was a mistake!" Crystal yelled as she fought the controls.
Brian
almost got to his feet when another wild maneuver hurled him back to the floor.
The police ship was right on their tail. The girl gunned her craft into a snap
Immelmann and swept back on their pursuers, slicing in close over the ship.
Brian's eyes bulged as he saw a long streak of paint and metal ripped off the
wing of the police ship. He saw the crew battling their controls in startled
terror. The ship slipped frantically away and fell into a spin.
"That's
them," Crystal said with satisfaction. "How are the others
doing?"
"Look!
They're hit!" Brian felt sick.
The
slower rebel freight ship staggered drunkenly as a torpedo caught it and ripped
away half a wing. It plunged down in flames with the white flowers of half a
dozen parachutes blossoming around it. Brian watched in horror as the police
ship came deliberately about. They heard its forward guns go into action. The
bodies of the parachutists jerked and jumped like crazy marionettes as the
bullets smashed into them. It was over in a few moments. The dead rebels
drifted down into the mist-shrouded depths of the valley.
"The
dirty, murdering rats!" Brian's voice ripped out in a fury of outrage.
"They didn't have a chance!"
"Don't
get excited," Crystal told him in a dead, flat voice. "That's just
normal practice. If you'd stuck your nose out of your laboratory once in a
while, you'd have heard of these things."
"But
why—" He ducked away instinctively as a flight of bullets spanged through
the fuselage. "They're after us now!"
Crystal's
answer was to yank the ship into a rocketing climb. The police were watching
for that. The big ship roared up after them.
"Just
follow along, suckers," Crystal invited grimly.
She
snapped the ship into a whip stall. For one nauseating moment they hung on
nothing, then the ship fell over on its back and they screamed down in a
terminal velocity dive, heading for the safety of the lower valley mists. The
heavier police ship, with its higher wing-loading, could not match the
maneuver. The rebel craft plunged down through the blinding fog. Half-seen,
ghostly fingers of stone clutched up at them, talons of gray rock missed and
fell away again as Crystal nursed the ship out of its dive.
"Phew!"
Brian gasped. "Well, we got away that time. How in thunder can you do
it?"
"Well,
you don't do it on faith. Take a look at that fuel gauge! We may get as far as
our headquarters—or we may not."
For
twenty long minutes they groped blindly through the fog, flying solely by
instruments and dead reckoning. The needle of the fuel gauge flickered closer
and closer to the danger point. They tore loose from the clinging fog as it
swung firmly to "Empty." The drive sputtered and coughed and died.
"That's
figuring it nice and close," Crystal said in satisfaction. "We can
glide in from here."
"Into
where?" Brian demanded. All he could see immediately ahead was the huge
bulk of a mountain which blocked the entire width of the valley and soared
sheer up to the high-cloud level. His eyes followed it up and up—
"Look!
Police ships. They've seen us!"
"Maybe
they haven't. Anyway, there's only one place we can land."
The ship
lunged straight for the mountain wall!
"Are
you crazy? Watch out—we'll crash!"
"You
leave the flying to me," Crystal snapped.
She held
the ship in its glide, aiming directly for the tangled foliage of the mountain
face. Brian yelped and cowered instinctively back. The lush green of the
mountainside swirled up to meet them. They ripped through the foliage—there was
no crash. They burst through into a huge, brilliantly lighted cavern and
settled to a perfect landing. Men came running. Crystal tumbled out of her
ship.
"Douse
those lights," she shouted. "The police are outside."
A tall,
lean man with bulbous eyes and a face like a startled horse, rushed up to
Crystal.
"What
do you mean by leading them here?" he yelled, waving his hands.
"They
jumped us when we had no fuel, and quit acting like an idiot."
The man
was shaking, his eyes looked wild. "They'll kill us. We've got to get out
of here."
"Wait,
you fool. They may not even have seen us." But he was gone, running toward
a group of ships lined up at the end of the cavern.
"Who
was that crazy coot and what is this place?" Brian demanded.
"That
was Gort Sterling, our leader," the girl said bitterly. "And this is
our headquarters." One of the ships at the back of the cavern thundered to
life, streaked across the floor and burst out through the opening Crystal's
ship had left. "He hasn't got a chance! We'll be spotted for sure,
now."
The other
rebels waited uncertainly, but not for long. There was the crescendoing roar of
ships in a dive followed by the terrific crash of an explosion.
"They
got him!" Crystal's voice was a moan. "Oh, the fool, the fool!"
"Sounded
like more than one ship. They'll be after us, now. Is there any other way of getting
out of this place?"
"Not
for ships. We'll have to walk and they'll follow us."
"We've
got to slow them down some way, then. I wonder how the devil they traced us? I
thought we lost them in that fog."
"It's
that Serono Zeburzac, the traitor. He knows these mountains as well as we
do."
"How
come?"
"The
Zeburzacs are one of the old families, but he sold out to McHague."
"Well,
what do we do now? Just stand here? It looks like everybody's leaving."
"We
might as well just wait," Crystal said hopelessly. "It won't do us
any good to run out into the hills. Zeburzac and his men will follow."
"We
could slow them down some by swinging a couple of those ships around so their
rocket exhausts sweep the entrance to the cavern," Brian suggested
doubtfully. She looked at him steadily.
"You
sound like the only good rebel left. We can try it, anyway."
They ran
two ships out into the middle of the cavern, gunned them around and jockeyed
them into position—not a moment too soon.
Half a
dozen police showed in brief silhouette as they slipped cautiously into the
cavern, guns ready, expecting resistance. They met a dead silence. A score or
more followed them without any attempt at concealment. Then Brian and Crystal
cut loose with the drives of the two ships.
Startled
screams of agony burst from the crowded group of police as they were caught in
the annihilating cross fire of roaring flame. They crisped and twisted, cooked
to scorched horrors before they fell. A burst of thick, greasy smoke rushed out
of the cavern. Two of the police, their clothes and flesh scorched and flaming,
plunged as shrieking, living torches down the mountainside.
Crystal
was white and shaking, her face set in a mask of horror, as she climbed blindly
from her ship.
"Let's
get away! I can smell them burning," she shuddered and covered her face
with her hands.
Brian
grabbed her and shook her.
"Snap
out of it," he barked. "That's no worse than shooting helpless men in
parachutes. We can't go, yet; we're not finished here."
"Oh,
let them shoot us! I can't go through that again!"
"You
don't have to. Wait here."
He
climbed back into one of the ships and cut the richness of the fuel mixture
down till the exhaust was a lambent, shuddering stutter, verging on extinction.
He dashed to the other ship and repeated the maneuver, fussing with the
throttle till he had the fuel mixture adjusted to critical fineness. The beat
of the stuttering exhaust seemed to catch up to the other and built to an
aching pulsation. In a moment the whole mass of air in the cavern hit the
frequency with a subtle, intangible thunder of vibration.
Crystal
screamed. "Brian! There's more police cutting in around the
entrance."
Brian
clambered out of the ship and glanced at the glowing points in the rock where
the police were cutting their way through outside the line of the exhaust
flames. The pulsating thunder in the cavern crescendoed to an intolerable
pitch. A huge mass of stalactites crashed to the floor.
"It's
time to check out," Brian shouted.
Crystal
led the way as they fled down the escape tunnel. The roaring crash of falling
rock was a continuous, increasing avalanche of sound in the cavern behind them.
They
emerged from the tunnel on the face of the mountain, several hundred yards to
the east of the cavern entrance. The ground shook and heaved beneath them.
"The
whole side of the mountain's sliding," Crystal screamed.
"Run!"
Brian shoved her and they plunged madly through the thick tangle of jungle away
from the slide.
Huge
boulders leaped and smashed through the matted bush around them. Crystal went
down as the ground slipped from under her. Brian grabbed her and a tree at the
same time. The tree leaned and crashed down the slope, the whole jungle
muttered and groaned and came to life as it joined the roaring rush of the
slide. They were tumbled irresistibly downward, riding the edge of the slide
for terrifying minutes till it stilled and left them bruised and shaken in a
tangle of torn vegetation.
The
remains of two police ships, caught without warning in the rush as they
attempted to land, stuck up grotesquely out of the foot of the slide. The dust
was settling away. A flock of brilliant blue, gliding lizards barking in
raucous terror, fled down the valley. Then they were gone and the primeval
silence settled back into place.
Brian and
Crystal struggled painfully to solid ground. Crystal gazed with a feeling of
awe at the devastated mountainside.
"How
did you do it?"
"It's
a matter of harmonics," Brian explained. "If you hit the right
vibratory combination, you can shake anything down. But now that we've made a
mess of the old homestead, what do we do?"
"Walk,"
Crystal said laconically. She led the way as they started scrambling through
the jungle up the mountainside.
"Where
are we heading for?" Brian grunted as he struggled along.
"The
headquarters of the Carlton family. They're the closest people we can depend
on. They've kept out of the rebellion, but they're on our side. They've helped
us before."
Two days
later, Crystal and Brian, weary, bedraggled and bushworn, stumbled on a rocky
trail that twisted up through a narrow valley toward the Carlton place. Trails
were scarce in the terrific Venusian mountain country where nearly all
communication was by air.
Crystal
knew this path.
"We're
almost there," she said, and they pushed along faster.
"Listen!
What's that?" Brian stopped and they both heard the sound of aircraft
taking off. The pulsing roar of the rocket drives approached and a V formation
of five ships swept by overhead.
Crystal
looked at Brian with dawning horror behind her eyes. "Police!"
"Good.
They're just leaving; they were probably just checking up on the
Carltons."
Crystal
shivered. "When Serono Zeburzac checks up on someone, there usually isn't
much left. Come on." She started at a run down the trail.
They
slowed at the sight of a clearing ahead. A faint sound reached them, a sobbing,
inarticulate moan of unexpressible agony that froze them in their tracks.
"What's
that?" Brian gasped.
Crystal's
face was dead-white as they moved cautiously forward. They stared out into the
clearing in dumb horror. The huge, rambling Carlton mansion was a smoking heap
of ruins. A giant Venus thorn bush in front of the house was scorched and
charred by the flames. One of its murderous, yard-long spikes carried a
terribly gruesome burden. Crystal whimpered and stumbled forward before Brian
could stop her. She collapsed in a sobbing heap in front of the gray-haired man
impaled on the giant thorn. The figure stirred feebly.
"He's
alive," Brian muttered. "Crystal! Snap out of it. Get up and give me
a hand. We'll cut him down."
With
Crystal's help Brian hacked off the thorn and gently eased the frail, old man
to the ground. His breath fluttered out between lips flecked with pink-tinged
froth. His eyes tried to smile his thanks through their haze of pain.
Crystal
held the weakly gripping hands. "Who did this to you?"
The gray
lips moved and worked, struggling painfully to form words. The whisper was
almost inaudible:
"Serono
... Zeburzac."
Crystal's
face hardened to a mask of vicious cruelty as she fought her emotions down.
"We'll
get him."
"No."
The elder Carlton seemed to gather strength. "Get away—escape."
Crystal
gripped his hands and seemed to hold him back from the edge of Eternity by
sheer strength of will.
"Where?
Where can we go?"
The eyes
fluttered open again, the shadow of death lurked in their depths. "Go ...
the place where the Five Valleys meet ... beware ... Zeburzac."
His
breath drifted out in an effortless sigh. The tortured body was still. Crystal
rose unsteadily to her feet. She turned blindly and Brian took her in his arms,
trying to comfort her as her wild sobbing got out of control. He patted her
shoulder awkwardly.
"Take
it easy, kid," he muttered helplessly. His laboratory experience hadn't
covered any such contingency as this.
"Brian,
take me away. I can't stand this. Hide me somewhere before that fiend comes
back."
"I
thought we were part of a revolution that was going to clean them off the
planet," Brian reminded her grimly.
"We
can't fight this. We haven't got a chance. Zeburzac has everything."
"He
hasn't got us yet. Where's this Five Valleys place? Can we get there?"
"Yes,
but it will be no use. I want to quit now."
Brian's
arms tightened around her. His voice was bleak and cold. "I'm not
quitting. I'm going to get Serono Zeburzac."
The girl
in his arms was still for a moment. Then she let go a long, trembling sigh of
weary resignation.
"All
right, I'm with you. Let's start traveling."
"The
place where Five Valleys meet." Crystal waved her arm out toward the
tremendous green bowl of emptiness that curved away all round them.
The sides
of the gigantic cup had been cracked and split by some cataclysmic upheaval in
the turbulent youth of the young planet. They stood at the mouth of one of the
sheer, ragged slashes that had given the place its name. The other four were
streaks of darker green against the distant walls. Beneath the eternal-night
cloud level the air was clear.
Directly
across from them a tremendous, sharp-prowed promontory sheered up from the
depths. Capping it, against the somber green of the valley walls, the
snow-white structure of a dream palace rose in airy splendor. In the dark
setting, the walls were radiant with breath-taking beauty, so perfect in balance
and line that it concealed the huge massiveness of the buildings, postponed for
a moment the realization that the great structure was a glorious ruin.
Brian let
his breath go. "I didn't know there was anything like that on Venus,"
he said in open admiration. "Who built it?"
"The
Martins. They used to operate the mines in this district, but they were worked
out years ago and the family scattered. They still own this place. Nobody lives
in it officially, but there must be some help here or Grenville Carlton
wouldn't have told us to come. Maybe the rebels are using the old
hangars."
"Well,
there's only one way to find out. We gotta climb."
"There's
somebody here, all right," Brian said as they entered the great courtyard
through a ruined gateway. "Look, there's a couple of ships over
there."
"And
they're our people, too." There was a lilt in Crystal's voice. "That
far ship is Jimmy Thornton's—I'd know it anywhere." They approached the
huge main doors of the great, white mansion.
One door
swung partly open and a swarthy, powerful man stepped hastily out. He carried
an atomic projector.
"Halt!"
he commanded. "Who are you?"
"Oh,
you don't need to get excited, we're rebels, too," Crystal told him.
"Who's here?"
"Who
is it, Max?" a pleasant voice inquired from the dim hallway.
"Two
more of the rebels, sir," the guard replied woodenly.
"Oh—rebels?
Oh, yes, of course. Show them in, Max." The guard stood respectfully aside
as Crystal and Brian entered the huge, echoing chamber.
"To
your right," the guard directed and they entered a small, exquisite room.
The man behind the desk seemed to fit perfectly into this cultured setting, he
was small and neat, silver hair frosted his temples, framing gentle, delicate
features. He smiled with pleasant, disarming frankness as he rose to greet
them.
"You'll
have to excuse Max, we didn't know you were coming, of course. Just make
yourselves at home. Young Jim Thornton arrived a short while ago. You'll be
able to see him presently. You'll be hungry, of course. Max, bring some
refreshment."
"Have
many of us arrived?" Crystal asked anxiously.
"I'm
sorry to say, very few. Just Jim Thornton and his party and you and Mr.
Hanson."
Brian
started. "How do you now know my name?" he asked in surprise.
"Oh,
we've all heard of you, Mr. Hanson, and how you got Miss James out of Venus
City. Brilliant work, I must say, and the way you routed the police in the
caverns was truly a remarkable accomplishment. But—what made you come to this
place? We've not been established here long."
"Grenville
Carlton told us about it," Crystal said briefly.
"Carlton?
Old Grenville. How is he?"
"He's
dead." Crystal's face hardened to a white mask of hatred at the memory.
"We found him impaled on a thorn bush in front of the ruins of his own
house." Her words were brutally blunt with the tremendous surge of emotion
behind them.
"Impaled
... tut tut tut ... my goodness, how terrible! Do you know who
could have done it?"
"Yes.
We found Carlton before he died. It was that rat Serono Zeburzac who killed
him."
"Oh—do
you know what this Serono Zeburzac looks like?"
"We've
never seen him," Crystal cut in grimly, "but my father did, over the
sights of an atomic flame projector. Serono Zeburzac has no left hand."
"Oh—"
The gray-haired man behind the desk was interrupted by a terrible scream of
human agony.
"No
... NO—" The words rose in a tortured frenzy. "Oh, God!... Not that
again.... AAAAaaaaa—"
Crystal
leaped to her feet.
"Jim—that
was Jim Thornton! What's happened—" Her eyes turned in startled question
to the slight, calm figure behind the desk. His benign expression of quiet
peace had not been disturbed in the slightest by the soul-rending cry. He
placed his fingertips precisely together.
"Are
you sure Zeburzac was missing his left hand?"—he flexed the fingers of his
own left hand for emphasis—"and not—his right?" There was a sickening
click in the sudden, dead stillness of the room as he twisted at his right
hand. It came away at the wrist, the thumb dropped lifelessly down. The fingers
of his left hand curled around it. The wrist of the severed member was pointed
toward them. In fascinated horror they stared down the muzzle of a tiny,
short-range, atomic projector concealed in the artificial hand.
Crystal
recoiled, one faltering step.
"Serono—Grenville
was trying to warn us!"
Brian
caught her before she fell.
"There
is no cause for excitement. Sit down, please." The quiet courtesy of
Serono's voice did not alter, but the steel thread of command was subtly woven
into his words. "You have been very clever, Hanson, too clever. I thought,
almost, you had escaped me, but no one ever does. My enemies are delivered into
my hands; soon there will be none on Venus."
The
moment of shock passed. Brian's superlatively keen faculties keyed acutely to
the emergency. They needed time first.
"How
do we rate as your enemies?" he stalled.
"Mr.
Hanson, we are not children. You know why you are my enemy. I recognized you
years ago, you are far too brilliant a man to have against me, and you would
never be with me. Your loyalty to Venus Consolidated made you dangerous."
"My
loyalty? What about yours? I thought you were working with McHague and the
company."
"Oh,
of course, as long as it suits my purpose."
"Suppose
someone got word to the Earth Council. You wouldn't last long, then."
"Perhaps
not, but Venus Consolidated controls all communication with Earth and soon I
will control Venus Consolidated. But I'm sure you must be tired. Max will show
you to your quarters." The guard ushered them out with the muzzle of a
projector.
They started
across the huge, ruined hall. Crystal stumbled blindly over a fragment of
broken masonry. She sagged to her knees. The guard stopped abruptly.
"Don't
try nothin', you guys," he snarled warningly.
"Quit
being a fool, you idiot," Brian barked to cover Crystal's quick whisper of
instructions. "This girl's sick. Give me a hand. You take her feet,"
he directed, as he lifted her shoulders. The guard hesitated doubtfully; his
instructions didn't cover this.
"O.
K., but just don't try nothin'." He hung the projector on his belt and
bent down. One startled yelp gurgled and died in his throat as Crystal's feet
slammed into his jaw and Brian's clenched hands rabbit-punched down on the back
of his neck.
"That
ought to hold him," Crystal muttered as she struggled to her feet.
Brian
picked up the projector. He recognized it; it was a new model, two of this type
had been sent to his laboratory for testing before the company invested in
them.
"Well,
what are we waiting for? C'mon, we'll go shoot Serono's other hand off,"
Crystal suggested grimly.
"D'you
think that'd stop them? Us with one projector against what they've got?"
"Well,
it would make it interesting for a while. You don't think we have a chance of
getting away from here, do you?"
"I
don't know," Brian said thoughtfully. "But when we were testing this
model projector one of them kind of blew up in our face. I think it developed a
short that converted it into the old-type regenerative circuit. We never were
sure about it; there wasn't enough left to find out. Those old regeneratives
are always dangerous, they were liable to heat up and explode at any time if
you didn't watch them. If we'd been testing the model with a full charge of
fuel, I wouldn't be here in this mess now." He slid back the inspection
cover of the projector's compactly complicated ignition circuit and started
poking experimentally at the system of tiny coils and delicate wires.
"Damn!"
He swore briefly as a white-hot spark jabbed at his fingers, but he held on and
the wires fused together. "That should do it. Now we're all set. Where's a
hole to get out through?"
"How
do you like that one?" Crystal suggested, indicating a ragged gap in the
broken, ancient wall of the hall. "That's big enough to fly through and
there's two guards out there in the courtyard with nice, shiny, new projectors
ready to make smoke out of us. Want to go and interview them?"
"No.
If we make enough noise here, they'll come and see us," Brian muttered as
he closed the firing switch of the projector. There was no stab of flame from
the muzzle. He heaved the weapon back into the middle of the hall. "As
soon as that warms up there should be considerable distraction taking place in
here."
"Why?
What's going to happen?" Crystal asked.
"C'mon.
Get over by the wall and be ready to run."
They started
for the gap in the wall. A dull, heavy rumble got under way behind them. It
built to a terrific, thundering crash as the universe split in a sheet of
roaring flame. They were lifted and hurled bodily outward. They sprawled in a
tangled heap on the pavement. Brian struggled to his feet in a choking swirl of
dust and yanked Crystal with him. The progressive explosion of the projector's
fuel battered the ancient structure, the wall bulged and cracked. The startled
guards gawped stupidly at the two figures that had erupted so violently.
Masonry
crashed to the pavement. The guards climbed over each other in a mad scramble
to escape. Crystal and Brian staggered groggily after them, heading for Jim
Thornton's ship. Brian boosted Crystal in, scrambled after her and slammed the
hatch shut. The drive spluttered and roared to life, the ship ripped crazily
into the air.
Arnold
McHague, Director in Chief of Venus Consolidated, swung his heavy body around
in fearful expectancy. Just a faint snick as though a lock had sprung, but
there was no door on that wall. A panel slipped noiselessly aside.
"Serono—"
The half-voiced question hung on a note of fear.
"No,
it's not Serono, McHague." A tall, ragged figure, followed by a smaller
one, stepped from the opening.
"Hanson!"
A surge of relief sounded in McHague's voice, then died out. Brian Hanson was a
rebel. He fumbled vaguely for the panel of call buttons on his desk, but his
hand froze as he saw the projector trained on his expansive middle.
"I
couldn't miss your stomach from here," Brian told him softly.
"What
do you want?"
"I
want to get to Earth and I want your private getaway ship."
"I
don't know anything about any ship."
"It's
no good, McHague. The drive tests for that ship were run in my
laboratory."
"There's
no fuel on board. It's in no condition to fly," McHague said hopelessly.
"It
had better be ready to take off. Serono doesn't trust you any more than you
trust him. About your only chance of living is for me to get to Earth and bring
enough of the Planetary Patrol to head Serono off."
"I
can't help you. I'm in this with Zeburzac. If the police get him, they've got
me."
"You
can be on our side. The way I'll tell it on Earth you were just stringing Serono
along till I could get clear."
McHague
shook his head. "I wouldn't live for a day if I helped you. You don't know
Zeburzac. His family ran Venus in the old days. He means to restore that rule
with himself as absolute dictator. I wouldn't be safe even on Earth."
"You'll
just have to take that chance."
"We're
wasting time," Crystal cut in sharply anxious. "Come on."
Her words
brought McHague reluctantly to his feet. "I'll do it," he muttered
thickly. "Come with me."
The misty
gloom of a Venusian night shrouded the jungle as three figures forced their way
along an almost completely overgrown trail. The lights of Venus City gleamed
dimly through the night murk behind them. McHague stumbled and swore in the
lead as the trail twisted down the steepness of the ridge. He came to a halt on
a long, level bench.
"This
is the place."
"I
don't see anything," Crystal said doubtfully.
"You
didn't think I was going to leave the ship where Zeburzac could find it, did
you?"
McHague
scrabbled around in the roots of a bush, found what he wanted, a metal lever
hardly distinguishable in the tangle, and yanked it up. His action was followed
by a slight vibration underfoot, a heavy, dull ripping of roots sounded in
front of them as the ground parted before their eyes. Two balanced sections
tilted upward, away from each other, revealing the Stygian blackness of a pit.
"It's
a ventilating shaft of one of the old mines. The ship's down there about two
hundred feet. It's got a Nordenfeldt control panel. Can you handle it?"
"Sure,
but how can I get down?"
"There's
a ladder—but wait a minute, Hanson." McHague's heavy-jowled face was
ghastly in the dim light. "You've got to play this straight, see. I'm
giving you a chance and you've got to stand by me. If Serono knew I was doing
this—You've got to get those police here—"
"Don't
worry," Brian told him grimly. "Serono is no friend of mine, either.
Where's this ladder?"
"Just
over the edge on this side."
Crystal
laid her hand on Brian's arm.
"Good
luck." She started to smile encouragingly, but she couldn't quite make it.
"Brian—" Her voice choked up. "Oh, Brian, be careful—" It
was almost a sob. Then she was in his arms. He held her for a moment and buried
his face in the soft, silver glory of her hair.
"I'll
be all right. You take care of yourself till I get back. I won't be long, then
we'll get this mess cleaned up."
He
disengaged himself gently. Crystal watched in silence as Brian clambered over
the edge and disappeared into the blackness of the shaft. Minutes dragged
slowly by.
"Oh,
I hope he makes it," Crystal murmured.
"He
probably will. Mr. Hanson is a very resourceful man."
The soft,
quiet voice was just behind her. Crystal turned in slow, hopeless terror.
"Serono—"
McHague's
breath sucked in in a startled gasp of horror.
"Zeburzac!"
"But,
of course. I wanted to be here to wish Mr. Hanson bon voyage. I
hope he has a pleasant flight—although it will be a short one."
"What
do you mean?" McHague whispered.
"Why,
McHague, my dear friend, you didn't think I would overlook a simple thing like
this?"
"You
knew?"
"Oh,
yes. I visited this place several times. I supposed you might be leaving me
some time, so, of course, I made arrangements." The silky softness of
Serono's voice, changed to a sinister rasp, "That ship will be blown apart
fifty seconds after it takes off!"
"No—"
Crystal screamed, "Brian!" She turned and stumbled toward the shaft,
then staggered back as a tremendous, roaring rush of flame fountained madly
upward behind the screaming flight of the escaping ship. The exhaust trail
towered magnificently into the night, arching gracefully over as the ship swung
smoothly into its first acceleration orbit.
"Brian
... Brian—" Crystal sobbed hopelessly.
The
burning streak of fire traced steadily across the sky—then abruptly it ended in
a bursting nova of flaming incandescence. The light faded slowly into the
twilight darkness.
"He's
gone," McHague whimpered.
Serono
laughed softly.
"Oh,
don't sound so disappointed, McHague. You'll soon be with him." The dry
click of Serono's artificial hand crisped in McHague's ears.
"No...
no... Serono... wait... wait a minute—" McHague babbled. Half paralyzed
with terror, he sidled desperately away from the hideous weapon in Serono's
hand. "He held a gun on me.... I had to—" McHague's stumbling words
trailed off as he read "Death" in Serono's eyes. His terrified scream
ripped out as he turned blindly and plunged down the yawning blackness of the
shaft.
Serono's
dry chuckle stirred like the rustling wings of a bat.
"And
now, Crystal James—" He turned. There was nothing but the impassive
stillness of the jungle; the girl was not in sight.
"—and
that, gentlemen, completes my report on the present status of Venus. This
folder contains the vital statistics for the period since your last inspection.
You will find there the reason for me presenting this report instead of
Governor McHague. He was killed, together with Mr. Hanson, Chief of Research
for Venus Consolidated, in an explosion during an experiment in rocketry which
Mr. Hanson was conducting."
"Ah,
thank you, Zeburzac." Chief Inspector Nathan accepted the final folio of
the voluminous annual report on Venus. He sat with the other members of the
Board of Inspection in the governor's offices as they carefully sorted through
the stacks of report form and record sheets. "Hm-m-m—I see you have a
Crystal James listed here as killed in an aircraft accident. Was she one of the
old Venusian family of James?"
Serono
nodded regretfully. "Yes, I believe she was the last of them. I knew them
well."
"That
is too bad," Inspector Nathan said softly. "They were a fine, old
family. Well, that cleans up the report, Zeburzac; everything seems to be
perfectly in order."
"Thank
you, inspector." Of course, it was. He had spent three months on those
reports and everything had run smoothly on schedule. In a few more hours this
inquisitive crew of inspectors would be gone and Venus would be his.
The mild
gentleness of Serono's face revealed nothing of his dictatorial intentions as
he listened to Inspector Nathan's closing remarks. In a moment they would be
offering him the governorship, legalizing the power he already possessed. With
Venus in his hands to be forged into a weapon, the easy-going democracy of
Earth would be no serious obstacle. What one clever man could do—Nathan was
speaking.
"There
is one item here, however, that seriously affects several of these reports.
This Mr. Hanson—"
"Hanson?
Yes, I think I mentioned, he died. A very violent explosion."
Chief
Inspector Nathan's formal politeness melted abruptly in the sudden fire of his
rage.
"Explosion?
I know all about that explosion, you blundering murderer. Come in here,
Hanson!"
"Hanson!"
Serono stared in shocked unbelief at the grim figure of a man who should have
died, but only for a moment. Then he leaned back and relaxed, his fingertips
met and tapped rhythmically.
"Mr.
Hanson—hm-m-m—this is almost unbelievable."
"Next
time you plant a time bomb in a ship, don't connect it through the lighting
circuit, it shows on the ammeter," Brian told him grimly. "And if you
want to keep people on Venus, you should watch your freight ships more
closely."
"Oh,
I wasn't as careless as you might think. That trap was set for McHague. I would
have made other arrangements if I had known you were to be present. As it was I
thought I had got you. However, I can remedy that slight omission almost
immediately."
Serono
twisted abruptly to his feet. His right hand snatched at his left. The
spluttering crackle of a projector flame lashed out. Serono screamed as he
dropped the red-hot wreckage of his artificial hand.
"We'd
been told about that, too, and I can still shoot," Inspector Nathan
growled.
Serono
stared stupidly at the empty socket on his left arm. His face grayed lividly.
He staggered against the desk, threw out his hand for support and vanished.
There was a moment of stunned silence in the room.
"It's
a trapdoor!" Brian yelled and leaped for the opening. He caught a glimpse
of a descending chute as the section of floor swung solidly back into place.
"Where
does that lead to?" Nathan barked.
Brian
didn't answer; he was already on his way. Nathan and the rest of the Board of
Inspectors pounded along behind him. They thudded down two flights of stairs.
"There
he goes!" The pack of inspectors let out a howl and raced down the
corridor behind Brian.
Zeburzac,
racing for his life, started to draw away from them. They saw him stop. There
were men in the corridor ahead of him, half a dozen of them. They were on him!
Serono
screamed terribly, once, as a swinging knife ripped him open. He was slammed to
the floor, his head beaten in by the vicious blows of his assailants. One of
them lunged viciously at the prostrate form. Brian felt sick as he saw the
crushed and bloody form of Zeburzac stabbed through the middle with the yard-long
spike of a giant Venusian thorn bush.
Having
finished their business the killers calmly faced the projectors in the hands of
Inspector Nathan and his crew.
"Who
are you?" Nathan demanded.
"My
name's Carlton. We're rebels. You better hurry up and shoot, it'll save you
trouble."
"These
men are all right," Brian defended hastily. "Serono murdered some of
the Carltons."
Nathan
grunted. "Well, thanks, boys. You saved us a job." He slipped his
atomic projector back into its holster. "We're inspectors from Earth.
We'll have to arrest you for murder, but I guess it's up to Governor Hanson
here to decide what to do with you."
"Governor?"
"Yeah.
That was decided before we left Earth. Where was Zeburzac heading? Where does
this corridor lead to?"
"To
his apartments. Maybe he had something there. I'll go and see." Brian
started down the corridor.
Governor!
Governor of this young, green frontier planet. There should have been a thrill
in it somewhere but he felt as though he had come to the end of a pointless
journey. He opened the door of Serono's apartment and stepped inside.
There was
no one in the luxurious room. Brian's scalp tingled; he felt that he was not
alone. He shuddered as he remembered Serono's ghastly death, then stepped
quickly to the bedroom door. He opened it cautiously, then moved in and shut it
noiselessly behind him. He stiffened as something prodded him in the middle of
his spine.
"Don't
move!" The voice was thin and vicious with hate. It stopped
incredulously—"Brian!"
He swung
around in amazement, and in synchronism as perfect as a trained chorus, he and
Crystal James cried: "You! I thought you were dead!"
Their
next moves were in perfect synchronism, too.