Collected short fiction, p.439
Collected Short Fiction, page 439
“Well, beautiful, you’re through,” he complimented. Still a little pale and hollow, his hard face grinned. “You must like my company, taking such precautions as this!”
He put his arms around her and she was careful not to hurt his healing wound. When he kissed her, she liked the harshness of the stubble on his chin. She closed her eyes and let herself dream again of the new Adam and another Eve.
Glenn Clayton let her dream. Now he had a role to play and a secret to keep. He was resolved to make no blunder. He kissed her and they went on with the business of taking an inventory of the supplies aboard.
“The air machine manufactures carbohydrates,” he told her. “With that we can keep going two years, anyhow.” His green eyes seemed warm and kind. “Like the prospect, beautiful?”
She did and she let him know it, for two years would be an eternity of paradise. There was scarcely any need to look beyond that time. But she let herself dream of a day when they might walk out of the rocket, to begin a new life somewhere.
Clayton let her go on dreaming. Della didn’t object when he set up the telescope. The instrument was small. The perfect vision in the airless Outside, together with a powerful system of electronic amplification, made large lenses or reflectors needless. The image was reflected on a screen.
“Time here will hang heavy, beautiful,” he said, “even for you and me. We must plan our lives in this little world of ours, keep doing things. Let’s have a look at the stars.”
Della didn’t guess his purpose. She was eager to follow any interest of his, happy because he was accepting the situation with such apparent cheer. The control room in the nose of the helpless ship became their observatory.
Glenn Clayton proved to be an excellent astronomer. The Outsiders had lived for two centuries under perfect astronomical conditions. The catastrophe of the passing Dwarf had given them a sharp, if rather apprehensive interest in the mysteries of illimitable space. Clayton, as she already knew, had a keen and ready mind.
THE little round screen was black, or sometimes gray with dusty nebulae. Stars swam across it and seemed to come near or recede again as Clayton’s fingers moved the controls. He was talking easily to Della, who sat beside him on the big chair’s arm, about the wonders of the southern constellations they explored.
He started when he saw the object. “There!” he whispered. Then, sensing the alarm that he had caused, he tried to allay it. “A comet.” He pointed to a tiny fleck of white that Della soon lost again among the dazzling stars. “It must be a comet, because it wasn’t there last night. We’re discoverers, beautiful!”
For a moment she felt admiration for his photographic memory of the heavens. Fondly she touched his hard shoulder and a sudden doubt shocked her. His shoulder was tense. She felt his concealed excitement.
“What’s so important about a comet?” she asked.
“Nothing, beautiful.” He grinned. “But it’s the first new thing that’s happened today.”
Della chilled to a secret fear that life might grow stale for them in the tiny world of the ship. She was afraid that Clayton would find a way to leave her and the dim dread turned to dark alarm.
“Is that a ship?” she whispered. Clayton had thought it was the blast-glow of a distant Barrier Patrol rocket. That was what had startled him. But in a moment he knew that his hope was defeated.
“No such luck, beautiful. A ship would move much faster.”
Alarm had chilled her voice.
“A ship wouldn’t see the Friendship,” she told him. “We look like a boulder: You aren’t to signal, Glenn. I’m stronger than you are, till your side gets well.”
His pale grin mocked her.
“But only till I get well.” He looked back at the little screen. “Anyhow, beautiful, we’ve got a whole new comet to amuse us.”
She tried to follow his work. He increased the electronic magnification enormously, until the tiny neck of the comet crawled visibly across the screen. With instruments he recorded the rate of its motion.
“The elements,” he said at last. “Now where’s it going?”
She couldn’t follow any farther, but he took readings from the instrument and set them up on a little calculator. The first result banished his grin. He turned back quickly to the telescope screen for another observation.
“What have you found?” Della wanted to know.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing that could be.”
That was all that he would tell her. But he worked on and on through the night, until the slow rotation of the heavens carried the strange body below the ragged southwestern horizon. Even then he waited to check the positions of Venus and Mars before he slept.
All the next night he worked again, silent and abstracted. Then at last he told her.
“You might as well have saved your bullet, beautiful.” His lean face was haggard from the long effort. His hard voice had a gravity that was new, yet something made him grin sardonically. “That comet is going to smash the Barrier and your precious America, more completely than all our rocket-bombers could have done.”
SHE clutched at the big chair’s arm for support.
“The Ring is strong!” she protested. “It’s strong enough to stop the heaviest meteors.”
“This is more than a meteor, beautiful.”
Tense and breathless, she waited for him to go on. Even now his hard voice rang lightly. It seemed to her that Clayton rejoiced in danger. She had never seen him afraid.
“It’s more than a comet, too. It’s round and solid and it doesn’t have any tail. It’s still so far away that I can’t measure it very closely. And I still haven’t been able to estimate its mass from the perturbation of other planets.” His green eyes seemed maliciously gleeful. “But I can guess, darling!”
She tried twice, before her husky whisper came.
“What can you guess?”
“It is coming out of the same part of the sky where the Dwarf disappeared, two hundred years ago, after it had stripped the air and the oceans off the Earth—except under your precious Ring, sweetheart.”
“You think—” Della gulped. “You think it is the Dwarf?”
“Why not?” he asked lightly. “It’s the same size. It’s coming from the same direction. Of course the astronomers, two hundred years ago, said that it was going on into space, never to return. But astronomy was pretty well disorganized by the time the Dwarf had passed. Suppose they were mistaken. Its mass was only a fraction of the Sun’s. Suppose that it was pulled into a long cometary orbit. Suppose that it is just now returning for a second visit. Anyhow, darling, that’s my guess.”
She stared at his brown, smiling face. She didn’t know what to believe. Perhaps it was all a joke, or a ruse to get her to let him signal a ship.
“How close will it come this time?” her low voice asked.
“The aim seems to be improving.” A shadow drowned the reckless glint of his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been working on these past two nights.” His bronze head made a grave little nod. “This time, sweetheart, the Dwarf isn’t going to miss us.”
She stepped back a little and her voice went sharp.
“Glenn, is this a joke?”
He shook his head. “None of mine, anyhow, beautiful. If the forces that rule the cosmos have a sense of humor, it may be a joke to them, but that body is coming straight toward Earth’s orbit. Collision is inevitable. There won’t be much left.”
Her exhaled breath made a tiny sob. “Even your precious Barrier won’t be much use,” he told her, “after the whole planet is smashed into white-hot vapor. If this is a joke, it is one on the whole human race, the Black Star, as well as America. Even on your daring Lieutenant Shane!”
CHAPTER XVI
The Black Star Seal
IN Clayton’s apartment, listening to Captain Barlow’s harsh-voiced threat, Shane reached for the paralysis gun at his hip. The two men behind him seized his arms before he could draw it.
“Hold him!” Barlow rasped from a safe distance. “Get the gun!” He came closer when Shane was disarmed, his broad face leering triumphantly. “Call right, Clayton. Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” evaded Shane. While the two men held Shane, Barlow threatened him with the thick cylinder of his paralysis gun.
“You know what,” he snarled. “I want the Black Star Seal. You know that it is the rule for each leader of the Black Star to hand the Seal and his authority on to another—before he dies.” His voice went hard with menace. “Where’s the Seal?”
“I don’t know.” That was the truth, but Shane managed Clayton’s mocking grin. He tried not to reveal the despair he felt. Barlow obviously meant to murder him. Even if he had the emblem of authority, it would be no use to him now. He added: “You might take a look around.”
“We’re going to,” said Barlow.
At his curt nod, the two sweaty men behind him nervously stepped forward to search Shane’s pockets. They found only the little platinum pocket case.
“It might be too large to carry,” Barlow said, “or he might be afraid to carry it. Search the rooms.” He made a noisy gulp. “And hurry, don’t stand there like a pair of frightened fools!”
Pale and uneasy, the two ran and began rummaging frantically through the several rooms. Shane watched, trying to maintain Clayton’s reckless grin.
“Frankly, Barlow,” he said, in the words he thought Clayton might have spoken, “I don’t believe you’ll like it. You seem uneasy already and the longer you hold the Seal, the more you’ll have to be afraid of.”
“Blast you, Clayton!” the big man growled. “Where is it?”
“There’s a wall-safe behind the tapestry in the second room,” Shane told him. “You might try that.”
In a moment the men found the safe, but Barlow was afraid to let them touch it.
“Leave it alone,” he warned uncertainly. “It might be a bomb, or an alarm. He was a bit too willing to tell us where it was.” His pig-eyes came watchfully back to Shane. “Clayton, I think we had better dispose of you, without any further delay.”
“Go ahead.” Shane shrugged and tried to ignore the prickle of deadly apprehension along his spine. Barlow’s obvious fear only made the big man more dangerous, more anxious to get him out of the way. He tried to grin. “What are your plans?” Anxiously the men in brown had leveled their weapons. The paralysis guns, Shane realized, were ideal for such an occasion. Used at full power on the higher nerve centers, they were instantly deadly and they made no sound. Shane waited for the black impact of death.
“No, not yet.” Barlow stopped them and turned to Shane. “Clayton, I’ll give you a choice. Hand over the Seal, without any tricks or fuss, and you can have a nice, easy death. They say a man never even feels the ray on his brain.”
SHANE had to swallow before he could trust his voice.
“And,” he prompted, “what if I refuse?”
Barlow’s cold eyes narrowed. “We’ll take you to the vacuum cell. That fits our plans much better, anyhow. It will appear in the records of the Black Star that you were tried by a party court and sentenced to the vacuum cell for treason. The cell isn’t comfortable for a live man.” His broad blue face was thrust forward. “What’s your choice, Clayton?”
Shane shrugged. “I don’t want to spoil your hunt for the Seal.” His borrowed voice rang light and clear, but he felt numb and cold and ill. His own words seemed to come from far away. “You’ll have to take me to the cell.”
Barlow’s thick lips quivered with anger.
“Let’s see you grin in the vacuum cell—with your own blood boiling out of your body!” The gaping muzzle of his weapon gestured at the door. “Get moving!”
Dimly Shane had hoped that the trip to the vacuum cell, wherever it was, would give him some opportunity to escape or call for aid. But Barlow’s plot was more completely organized than he had suspected.
The moving pavement outside was stopped. Ropes were stretched across the corridor-street, at the ends of the block. Brown-clad Black Star guards were stationed there. Men in blue, with noisy pneumatic equipment, were making unnecessary repairs to the pavement.
Barlow’s men rushed him across the corridor, into a convenient elevator. It dropped them through a darkened shaft. They emerged in a narrow passage, somewhere deep in the hivelike city, walled with plates of gray-painted steel.
For five minutes they pushed Shane along it, until a metal door stopped them. Barlow found a key and unlocked the massive door. Then he stopped Shane with a wave of his heavy hand.
“Still time, Clayton,” he said. “An easy death, if you want to change your mind. Just tell me where the Seal is.”
Shane made his stiff face grin.
“You might try that safe,” he said.
“Get inside!” Barlow jabbed him with the weapon. “We’ll try the safe, all right. We’re rid of you, whether we find the Seal or not.”
A kick sent Shane reeling into the cell.
“Last chance!” croaked Barlow.
As he thought Clayton might have done, Shane thumbed his nose. The airtight door closed with a heavy, muffled sound. The lock made a dull click. He was alone in the bare, windowless cell. Dim blue light came through a small, heavy glass plate in the ceiling.
Shane looked around apprehensively.
The metal walls and the metal floor were bare. The only thing to attract attention was a metal valve high in the opposite wall. That must be the outside wall of the dome-city. The valve was intended to let the air out of this death-chamber.
BARRY SHANE crossed the floor to examine it. It was two feet in diameter, large enough for his body to pass through, if it hadn’t been for the heavy bars over the inside. But those bars seemed strong enough. Anyhow, what would be the use of getting outside? A man would die as quickly there as in this lethal chamber.
Shane felt weak and ill. He sat down on the cold metal floor and wiped chill sweat off his face. He had failed. That realization was more painful than the danger to his life. Clayton had beaten him, after all, merely by keeping silent about the danger of Barlow’s rivalry and his own unsuspected possession of the Black Star Seal.
Where was the Seal?
Squatting on the floor, Shane began to wonder what Clayton would have done with the Seal. It kept him from thinking about what would happen when Barlow opened the valve.
Since it apparently was the sole proof of his power and position as master of the Black Star party, Clayton wasn’t likely to have entrusted it to anyone else. Neither was he apt to leave it in such an obvious place as the safe in his apartment. The logical thing would be to carry the Seal on his person.
But Shane had searched the Outsider when he first captured him. There had been only the thin platinum case that contained the picture of Atlantis Lee and a few other trinkets, such as the heavy platinum ring.
Absently Shane turned the ring on his finger. He was certain, too, that the Seal couldn’t have been hidden aboard the Friendship, unless it had been cleverly disguised. . . .
He caught his breath and stood up abruptly. With fingers that trembled a little, he slipped off the massive ring. He remembered Clayton’s protest against giving it up. The plain platinum bezel was larger than the star-shaped impression of the Seal.
The idea seemed fantastic. Barlow and his men had evidently been looking for something larger, for they hadn’t given the ring a second glance. But then they had never seen the Seal.
With quivering fingers he twisted at the bezel. It failed to yield. Shane gave a bitter laugh. After all, there was no use getting excited about it. Even if he found the Seal, it would be no use to him now.
Under the bezel, he found a tiny stud!
He pressed it. The top of the bezel snapped back. It was merely a platinum cover. Beneath was revealed a star-shaped jewel. It was black crystal, scintillating with tiny vanishing points of diamond light.
His quivering fingers fumbled in his pocket and found a scrap of the gray metal foil. When he pressed it against the coruscating jewel, it came away marked with that striated, inimitable star.
He had the Black Star Seal!
WITH a weary sigh Shane snapped down the metal cover and replaced the ring on his finger. It was no use to him now. He only hoped that Barlow wouldn’t be clever enough to discover it, if they searched his body. He had admired Clayton, but there was little to like about Barlow.
S-s-s-s-s-s!
Shane started and went cold at the sound of that thin, deadly hiss. He saw that the valve-gate was sliding aside slowly behind the massive bars. The room felt cold and a mist of condensing moisture swirled like a ghostly shape under the blue light. The air was going out.
Barlow might open the valve slowly, to prolong his discomfort. That didn’t matter greatly. The end would be the end. The Black Star Seal was no use to him now.
Then something happened to the valve. First there was a tapping. Then an explosion made a dull, muffled thump. The air was already nearly too tenuous to carry sound. The gate was ripped away and Shane saw stars in the dark sky Outside.
Whoof!
The air was gone.
Shane knew that Barlow and his men hadn’t been responsible for that explosion. Somebody else had caused it, but he had no time for riddles. He opened his mouth, threw back his head and exhaled swiftly, so that lungs and eardrums might escape rupture.
Only agony was left in his lungs. Automatically he tried to breathe. That only increased the pain. His ears hurt. A savage force was pushing his eyes out of their sockets. He could hardly see.
But he did glimpse the long wrecking bar that had been thrust through the valve. It fell on the floor. The metal quivered under his feet, but his throbbing, roaring ears, in the vacuum, heard no sound.
Somebody was Outside. Somebody had come to help him. That seemed incredible, yet he had no time or power to think. His reeling brain was too numb.
He picked up the wrecking bar. It was made for such jobs as this. There was a sharp blade of some hard, bright alloy and biting claws that worked on a fulcrum. He set the blade against the base of one bar and threw his weight on the handle.
