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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be853b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50290 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50290) diff --git a/old/50290-8.txt b/old/50290-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6cd40d3..0000000 --- a/old/50290-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6340 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Space Station 1, by Frank Belknap Long - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Space Station 1 - -Author: Frank Belknap Long - -Release Date: October 23, 2015 [EBook #50290] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACE STATION 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - SPACE STATION 1 - - by FRANK BELKNAP LONG - - - ACE BOOKS - - A Division of A. A. Wyn, Inc. - 23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y. - - SPACE STATION 1 - Copyright 1957, by A. A. Wyn, Inc. - - All Rights Reserved - - Printed in U. S. A. - - [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any - evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - -INTRIGUE IN EARTH'S OUTER ORBIT - - -Tremendous and glittering, the Space Station floated up out of the Big -Dark. Lieutenant Corriston had come to see its marvels, but he soon -found himself entrapped in its unsuspected terrors. - -For the grim reality was that some deadly outer-space power had usurped -control of the great artificial moon. A lovely woman had disappeared; -passengers were being fleeced and enslaved; and, using fantastic -disguises, imposters were using the Station for their own mysterious -ends. - -Pursued by unearthly monsters and hunted with super-scientific cunning, -Corriston struggles to unmask the mystery. For upon his success -depended his life, his love and the future of Earth itself. - - - - -CAST OF CHARACTERS - - -CORRISTON - -He saw all the sights of the Space Station ... in fact, he saw too -much.... - - -HAYES - -His decision would mean the beginning or the end for a world. - - -CLAKEY - -This bodyguard needed special protection himself. - - -CLEMENT - -Sometimes it seemed as if he were leading a double life. - - -HENLEY - -With him for a friend one didn't need an enemy. - - -HELEN RAMSEY - -Her father had made her a virtual prisoner. - - - - -1 - - -It was a life-and-death struggle--cruel, remorseless, one-sided. -Corriston was breathing heavily. He was in total darkness, dodging the -blows of a killer. His adversary was as lithe as a cat, muscular and -dangerous. He had a knife and he was using it, slashing at Corriston -when Corriston came close, then leaping back and lashing out with a -hard-knuckled fist. - -Corriston could hear the swish of the man's heels as he pivoted, could -judge almost with split-second timing when the next blow would come. -He was bleeding from a cut on his right shoulder, and there was a -tumultuous throbbing at his temples, an ache in his groin. - -The fact that he had no weapon put him at a terrifying disadvantage. He -had been close to death before, but never in so confined a space or in -such close proximity to a man who had certainly killed once and would -not hesitate to kill again. - -His determination to survive was pitted against what appeared to be -sheer brute strength fortified by cunning and a far-above-average -agility. He began slowly to retreat, backing away until a massive steel -girder stopped him. He was battling dizziness now and his heart had -begun a furious pounding. - -He found himself slipping sideways along the girder, running his hands -over its smooth, cold surface. To his sweating palms the surface seemed -as chill as the lid of a coffin, but he refused to believe that it -could trap him irretrievably. The girder had to end somewhere. - -The killer was coming close again, his shoes making a scraping sound -in the darkness, his breathing just barely audible. Corriston edged -still further along the girder. Inch by inch he moved parallel to it, -fighting off his dizziness, making a desperate effort to keep from -falling. The wetness on his shoulder was unnerving, the absence of -pain incredible. How seriously could a man be stabbed without feeling -any pain at all? He didn't know. But at least his shoulder wasn't -paralyzed. He could move his arm freely, flex the muscles of his back. - -How unbelievably cruel it was that a ship could move through space with -the stability of a completely stationary object. How unbelievably cruel -at this moment, when the slightest lurch might have saved him. - -The girder was stationary and immense, and in his tormented inward -vision he saw it as a strand in a gigantic steel cobweb, symbolizing -the grandeur of what man could accomplish by routine compulsion alone. - -In frozen helplessness Corriston tried to bring his thoughts into -closer accord with reality, to view his peril in a saner light. But -what was happening to him was as hard to relate to immediate reality -as a line half remembered from a play. _See how the blood of Caesar -followed it, as if rushing out of doors to be resolved if Brutus so -unkindly knocked or no...._ - -But the killer wasn't Brutus. He was unknown and invisible and if -there had been any Brutuslike nobility in him, it hardly seemed likely -that he would have chosen for his first victim a wealthy girl's too -talkative bodyguard and for his second Corriston himself. - -The killer was within arm's reach again when the barrier that had -trapped Corriston fell away abruptly. He reeled back, swayed dizzily, -and experienced such wild elation that he cried out in unreasoning -triumph. Swiftly he retreated backwards, not fully realizing that no -real respite had been granted him. He was free only to recoil a few -steps, to crouch and weave about. Almost instantly the killer was -closing in again, and this time there was no escape. - -Another metal girder stopped Corriston in midretreat, cutting across -his shoulders like a sharp-angled priming rod, jolting and sobering him. - -For an eternity now he could do nothing but wait. An eternity as -brief as a dropped heartbeat and as long as the cycle of renewal and -rebirth of worlds in the flaming vastness of space. Everything became -impersonal suddenly: the darkness of the ships' between-deck storage -compartment; the Space Station toward which the ship was traveling; the -Martian deserts he had dreamed about as a boy. - -The killer spoke then, for the first time. His voice rang out in the -darkness, harsh with contempt and rage. It was in some respects a -surprising voice, the voice of an educated man. But it was also a voice -that had in it an accent that Corriston had heard before in verbal -documentaries and hundreds of newsreels; in clinical case histories, -microfilm recorded, in penal institutions, on governing bodies, -and wherever men were in a position to destroy others--or perhaps -themselves. It was the voice of an unloved, unwanted man. - -The voice said: "You're done for, my friend. I don't know what the -Ramsey girl told you, but you came looking for me, and it's too late -now for any kind of compromise." - -"I wasn't looking for a deal," Corriston said. "If it's any -satisfaction to you, Miss Ramsey told me nothing. But I saw a man -killed; and I couldn't find her afterwards. I think you know what -happened to her. Knife me, if you can. I'll go down fighting." - -"That's easy to say. Maybe you _didn't_ come looking for me. But you -know too much now to go on living. Unless you--wait a minute! You -mentioned a deal. If you're lying about the Ramsey girl and will tell -me where she is, I might not kill you." - -"I wasn't lying," Corriston said. - -"Hell ... you're really asking for it." - -"I'm afraid I am." - -"It won't be a pleasant way to die." - -"Any way is unpleasant. But I'm not dead yet. Killing me may not be as -easy as you think." - -"It will be easy enough. This time you won't get past me." - -Corriston knew that the conversation was about to end unless something -unexpected happened. And he didn't think there was much chance of that. -Had he been clasping a metal tool, he would have swung hard enough to -kill with it. But he wasn't clasping anything. He was crouching low, -and suddenly he leapt straight forward into the darkness. - -His head collided with a bony knee and his hands went swiftly out and -around invisible ankles. He tightened his grip, half expecting the -knife to descend and bury itself in his back. But it didn't. The other -had been taken so completely by surprise that he simply went backwards, -suddenly, and with a strangled oath. - -Instantly Corriston was on top of him. He shifted his grip, releasing -both of the struggling man's ankles and remorselessly seizing his -wrists. He raised his right knee and brought it savagely downward, -again and again and again. A cry of pain echoed through the darkness. -The killer, crying out in torment, tried to twist free. - -For an instant the outcome remained uncertain, a see-saw contest of -strength. Then Corriston had the knife and the struggle was over. - -Corriston made a mistake then of relaxing a little. Instantly, the -killer rolled sideways, broke Corriston's grip, and was on his feet. -He did not attempt to retaliate in any way. He simply disappeared into -the darkness, breathing so loudly that Corriston could tell when the -distance between them had dwindled to the vanishing point. - -Corriston sat very still in the darkness, holding on tightly to the -knife. His triumph had been unexpected and complete. It had been close -to miraculous. Strange that he should be aware of that and yet feel -only a dark horror growing in his mind. Strange that he should remember -so quickly again the horror of a man gasping out his life with a -thorned barb protruding from his side. - -It had begun a half-hour earlier in the general passenger cabin. It had -begun with a wonder and a rejoicing. - -Tremendous and glittering, the Space Station had come floating up out -of the Big Dark like a golden bubble on an onrushing tidal wave. It -had hovered for an instant in the precise center of the viewscreen, -its steep, climbing trail shedding radiance in all directions. Then it -had descended vertically until it almost filled the lower half of the -screen, and finally was lost to view in a wilderness of space. - -When it appeared for the second time, it was larger still and its -shadow was a swiftly widening crescent blotting out the nearer stars. - -"There it is!" someone whispered. - -It had been unreasonably quiet in the general passenger cabin, and for -a moment no other sound was audible. Then the whisper was caught up and -amplified by a dozen awestruck voices. It became a murmur of amazement -and of wonder, and as it increased in volume, the screen seemed to glow -with an almost unbelievable brightness. - -Everyone was aware of the brightness. But how much of it was subjective -no one knew or cared. To a man in the larger darkness of space, a dead -sea bottom on Mars, or a moon-landing ship wrapped in eternal darkness -on a lonely peak in the Lunar Apennines may glow with a noonday -splendor. - -"They said a space station that size could never be built," David -Corriston said, leaning abruptly forward in his chair. "They quoted -reams of statistics: height above the center of the Earth in -kilometers, orbital velocity, relation of mass to maneuverability. The -experts had a field day. They went far out on a limb to convince anyone -who would listen that a station weighing thousands of tons would never -get past the blueprint stage. But the men who built it had enough -pride and confidence in human skill to achieve the impossible." - -The girl at Corriston's side looked startled for an instant, as though -the ironclad assurance of so young a man was as much of a surprise as -his unexpected nearness, and somehow even more disquieting older. - -She was certainly somewhat older than he was--about three or four -years. She was an exceptionally pretty girl, her fair hair fluffed out -from under a blue beret, her ship's lounge jacket a youth-accentuating -miracle of casual tailoring that would have looked well on a woman of -any age. She had the kind of eyes Corriston liked best of all in a -woman: longlashed, observant, and bright with glints of humor. - -She had the kind of mouth he liked too--a mouth which suggested that -she could be, by turns, capricious, level-headed, and audaciously -friendly with strangers without in any way inviting familiarity. -There was a certain paradoxical timidity in her gaze too. It was -manifesting itself now in an obvious reluctance to be startled too -abruptly by space engineering talk from a young man who had taken -her companionability for granted and who was obviously given to snap -judgments. - -She brushed back the hair on her right temple, her brown eyes upraised -to study Corriston more closely. - -He hoped that she would realize upon reflection that she was behaving -foolishly. He had taken a certain liberty in talking to her as he would -have talked to an old acquaintance in a long-awaited meeting of minds. -On the big screen a space station that couldn't be built was sweeping -in toward the ship with eighty-five years of unparallelled scientific -progress behind it. - -First had come the Earth satellites, eight of them in their neat little -orbits. They had used low-energy fuels, had kept close to the Earth, -and no one had seriously expected them to do more than record weather -information and relay radio signals. For fifteen years they could be -seen with small telescopes and even with the unaided eye on bright, -cloudless nights in both hemispheres. - -First had come these small, relatively unimportant artificial moons and -then, on a night in October 1972, the first space platform had been -launched. Soon the sky above the Earth was swarming with radar warning -platforms, a dozen men to operate them, and carrier-based jets equipped -with formidable atomic warheads. - -Nevertheless, how could anyone have known that in another twenty years -interplanetary space flight would become a war-averting reality? How -could anyone have known that by the year 2007 there would be human -settlements on Mars and by the year 2022 the actual transportation to -Mars of city-building materials? - - - - -2 - - -Corriston was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He wished that the girl -would say something instead of just continuing to stare at him. She -seemed to be interested in his uniform. She appeared to be gazing at -him interrogatively, as if she wanted to know more about him before -promising anything. - -He wondered what her unconscious purpose was. Did she see in him -the quiet, determined type who was all set to accomplish something -important. Or was she regretting he wasn't the hard-living, cynical -type who had been everywhere and done everything? - -Well, one way to find out was to be himself: a man average in every -way, but with a hard core of idealism in his nature, a creative mind -and enough independence and self-assurance to give a good account of -himself in any struggle which brought his central beliefs under fire -or placed them in long-range jeopardy. - -And so Corriston suddenly found himself talking about the Station again. - -"Not many people have grasped the importance of it yet," he said. "One -station will service our needs, instead of fifty-seven, one tremendous -central terminal and re-fueling depot for _all_ of the ships. Do you -realize what that could mean?" - -Abruptly there was a startling warmth in the girl's eyes, an -unmistakable look of interest and encouragement. - -"Just what could it mean?" she asked. - -"Any kind of steady growth across the years leads to centralization, to -bigness. And that bigness becomes time-hallowed and magnified out of -all proportion to its original significance. The Space Station is no -exception. It started with the primitive Earth satellites and branched -out into fifty-seven larger stations. Now it's tremendous, a single -central station that can impose its influence in ship clearance matters -with an almost unanswerable finality." - -A shadow had come into the girl's eyes. "But not completely without -checks and balances. The Earth Federation can challenge its supremacy -at any point." - -"Yes, and I'm glad that the challenge remains a factor to be reckoned -with. As matters stand now the Station's prestige can't be implemented -with what might well become the iron hand of an intolerable tyranny. -As matters stand, the Station is actually a big step forward. People -once talked of centralization as if it were some kind of indecent -human bogey. It isn't at all. It's simply a fluid means to an end, -a necessary commitment if a society is to achieve greatness. If the -authority behind the Station respects scientific truth and human -dignity--if it remains empirically minded--I shall serve it to the best -of my ability. No one knows for sure whether what is good outbalances -what is bad in any human institution, or any human being. A man can -only give the best of himself to what he believes in." - -"Sorry to interrupt," an amused voice said, "but the captain wants -you to join him in a last-minute celebration: a toast, a press -photograph--that sort of nonsense. A six hour trip, and he hasn't even -been introduced to you. But if you don't appear at his table in ten -minutes he'll throw the book at me." - -Corriston looked up in surprise at the big man confronting them. He had -approached so unobtrusively that for an instant Corriston was angry; -but only for an instant. When he took careful stock of the fellow his -resentment evaporated. There was a cordiality about him which could not -have been counterfeited. It reached from the breadth of his smile to -his gray eyes puckered in amusement. He was really big physically, in -a wholly genial and relaxed way, and his voice was that of a man who -could walk up to a bar, pay a bill and leave an everlasting impression -of hearty good nature behind him. - -"Well, young lady?" he asked. - -"I'm not particularly keen about the idea, Jim, but if the captain has -actually iced the champagne, it would be a shame to disappoint him." - -Corriston was aware that his companion was getting to her feet. The -interruption had been unexpected, but much to his surprise he found -himself accepting it without rancor. If he lost her for a few moments -he could quickly enough find her again; and somehow he felt convinced -that the big man was not a torch-carrying admirer. - -"I'll have to stop off in the ladies' lounge first," she said. She -had opened her vanity case and was making a swift inventory of its -contents. "Two shades of lipstick, but no powder! Oh, well." - -She smiled at the big man and then at Corriston, gesturing slightly as -she did so. - -"We've just been discussing the Station," she said. "This gentleman -hasn't told me his name--" - -"Lieutenant David Corriston," Corriston said quickly. "My interest in -the Station is tied in with my job. I've just been assigned to it in -the very modest capacity of ship's inspection officer, recruit status." - -The big man stared at Corriston more intently, his eyes kindling with -a sudden increase of interest. "Say, I wonder if you could spare -me a few minutes. When my friends ask me I'd like to be able to -talk intelligently about the terrific headaches the research people -must have experienced right from the start. The expenditure of fuel -alone...." - -"See you in the Captain's cabin, Jim," the girl said. - -She moved out from her chair, her expression slightly constrained. Was -it just imagination, or had the big man's immoderate expansiveness -grated on her and brought a look of displeasure to her young face? -Corriston couldn't be sure, and his brow remained furrowed as he -watched her cross the passenger cabin and disappear into the ladies' -lounge. - -"I'm Jim Clakey," the big man said. - -Corriston reseated himself, a troubled indecision still apparent in his -stare. Then gradually he found himself relaxing. He nodded up at the -big man. "Sit down, Mr. Clakey," he said. "Ask me anything you want. -Security imposes some pretty rigid restrictions, but I'll let you know -when you start treading on classified ground." - -Clakey sat down and crossed his long legs. He was silent for a moment. -Then he said: "You know who she is, of course." - -Corriston shook his head. "I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea." - -"She isn't traveling under her real name only because her father is a -very sensible and cautious man. You'd be cautious too, perhaps, if you -were Stephen Ramsey." - -Clakey's gaze had traveled to the ladies' lounge, and for an instant he -seemed unaware of Corriston's incredulous stare. - -"You mean I've actually been sitting here talking to Stephen Ramsey's -daughter?" - -"That's right," Clakey said, turning to grin amiably at Corriston. -"And now you're talking to her personal bodyguard. I'm not surprised -you didn't recognize her, though; very few people do. She doesn't like -to have her picture taken. Her dad wouldn't object to that kind of -publicity particularly, but she's even more cautious than he is." - -The door of the ladies' lounge opened and two young women came out. -They were laughing and talking with great animation and were quickly -lost to view as other passengers changed their position in front of the -viewscreen. - -The door remained visible, however--a rectangle of shining whiteness -only slightly encroached upon by dark blue drapes. Corriston found -himself staring at it as his mind dwelt on the startling implications -of Clakey's almost unbelievable statement. - -"Biggest man on Mars," Clakey was saying. "Cornered uranium; froze out -the original settlers. They're threatening violence, but their hands -are tied. Everything was done legally. Ramsey lives in a garrisoned -fortress and they can't get within twenty miles of him. He's a damned -scoundrel with tremendous vision and foresight." - -Corriston suddenly realized that he had made a serious psychological -blunder in sizing up Clakey. The man was a blabbermouth. True, -Corriston's uniform was a character recommendation which might -have justified candor to a moderate extent. But Clakey was talking -outrageously out of turn. He was becoming confidential about matters -he had no right to discuss with anyone on such short acquaintance. -Corriston suddenly realized that Clakey was slightly drunk. - -"Look here," Corriston said. "You're talking like a fool. Do you know -what you're saying?" - -"Sure I know. Miss Ramsey is a golden girl. And I'm her bodyguard ... -important trust ... sop to a man's egoism." - -An astonishing thing happened then. Clakey fell silent and remained -uncommunicative for five full minutes. Corriston had no desire to -start him talking again. He was appalled and incredulous. He was -debating the advisability of getting up with a frozen stare and a firm -determination to take himself elsewhere when the crazy, loose-tongued -fool leapt unexpectedly to his feet. - -"She's taking too long!" he exclaimed. "It just isn't like her. She'd -never keep the captain waiting." - -As he spoke, another woman came out of the ladies' lounge. She was -small, dark, very pretty, and she seemed a little embarrassed when she -saw how intently Clakey was staring at her. Then a middle-aged woman -came out, with a finely-modeled face, and a second, younger woman -with haggard eyes and a sallow complexion who was in all respects the -opposite of attractive. - -"She's been in there for fifteen minutes," Clakey said, starting toward -the lounge. - -"It takes a good many women twice that long to apply makeup properly," -Corriston pointed out. "I just don't see--" - -"You don't know her," Clakey said, impatiently. "I may have to ask one -of those women to go in after her." - -"But why? You can't seriously believe she's in any danger. We both saw -her go into the lounge. She made the decision on the spur of the moment -and no one could have known about it in advance. No one followed her -in. You were sitting right here watching the door." - -But Clakey was already advancing across the cabin. He was reeling a -little, and a dull flush had mounted to his cheekbones. He seemed -genuinely alarmed. Corriston was about to follow him when something -bright flashed through the air with a faint swishing sound. - -A startled cry burst from Clakey's lips. He clutched at his side, -staggered, and half-swung about, a look of incredulous horror in his -eyes. - -Corriston's mouth went dry. He stood very still, watching Clakey lose -all control over his legs. The change in the stricken man's expression -was ghastly. His cheeks had gone dead white, and now, as Corriston -stared, a spasm convulsed his features, twisting them into a horrible, -unnatural caricature of a human face--a rigidly contorted mask with a -blanched, wide-angled mouth and bulging eyes. - -A passenger saw him and screamed. His knees had given way and his huge -frame seemed to be coming apart at the joints. He straightened out on -the deck, jerking his head spasmodically, propelling himself backwards -by his elbows. Almost as if with conscious intent, his body arched -itself, sank level with the floor, then arched itself again. - -It was as though all of his muscles and nerves were protesting the -violence that had been done to him, and were seeking by muscular -contractions alone to dislodge the stiff, thorned horror protruding -from his flesh. - -He went limp and the barbed shaft ceased to quiver. Corriston had a -nerve-shattering glimpse of a swiftly spreading redness just above -Clakey's right hipbone. The entire barb turned red, as if its feathery -spines had acquired a sudden, unnatural affinity for human blood. - -Corriston started forward, then changed his mind. Several passengers -had moved quickly to Clakey's side and were bending above him. Someone -called out: "Get a doctor!" - -Corriston turned abruptly and strode toward the ladies' lounge. -Brushing aside such scruples as he ordinarily would have entertained, -he threw open the door and went inside. - -He called out: "Miss Ramsey?" When he received no answer he searched -the lounge thoroughly. There was no one there. He was thinking fast -now, desperately fast. He hadn't seen her come out and neither had -Clakey. He'd seen four women come out: three young women and an elderly -one. None of them faintly resembled the girl he'd been talking to. - -The first young woman had emerged almost immediately. He remembered -how intently Clakey had been watching the door. Clakey had sat down to -discuss the Station with him, and in less than two minutes the first -young lady had emerged. Then neither of them had taken their eyes from -the door for five or six minutes. The second young lady had apparently -known someone in the crowd. She had seemed annoyed by Clakey's -persistent stare and had disappeared quickly. The elderly woman had -looked her age. Her walk, her carriage, the lines of her face had borne -the unmistakable stamp of genteel aging, and the dignity inseparable -from it. The last woman had been the drab creature. - -Corriston had a poor memory for faces and he knew that he couldn't -count on recognizing any of them--except perhaps the elderly woman--if -he saw them again. - -It was good that he could smile, even at his own inanities. It relieved -tension. Almost instantly the smile vanished. His aspect became that -of a man in deadly danger on the brink of a hundred foot precipice, a -man completely in the dark and yet grimly determined not to go over the -edge or take a single step in the wrong direction. - -Where, he asked himself, do women ordinarily go when they vanish into -thin air? Wasn't it pretty well established that ghosts were likely to -follow the path of least resistance and fulfill obligations entered -into in the flesh? - -The captain's cabin! The captain would be disappointed if she failed to -appear at least briefly at his table; and she had promised to do so. -It was a wild, premeditated assault on the rational, but putting the -irrational aspect of it aside, it was also realistic and reasonable. -If by some incredible miracle she had eluded Clakey's vigilance and -actually slipped from the lounge, she would almost certainly have gone -straight to the captain's cabin. - - - - -3 - - -Corriston left the ladies' lounge faster than he had entered it. -He shut the door firmly and stood for an instant staring at the -passengers who had gathered in an even tighter knot around Clakey and -were making it difficult for an alarmed young ship's doctor to get to -him. He was quite sure in his own mind that Clakey would not need the -assistance of a doctor. - -Then he turned and headed for the captain's cabin. Anyone could have -gotten in. The door was ajar and there was no one guarding it. He threw -the door wide and everything was just as he'd expected to find it: It -was completely empty. - -No guests at all to welcome Corriston to the big, empty cabin. Then he -saw that there was another door opposite. - -Corriston was getting scared, really scared. There was an odd, -detached, whimsical feeling at the surface of his mind, but it cloaked -something distinctly sinister. He had more than half-expected the -captain to be absent from his cabin. But something about the silence -and the emptiness chilled him to the core of his being. - -With an effort he shook the feeling off. He didn't know where the inner -door led to. He hesitated for an instant, realizing that the mere -existence of a second door could complicate his search to the point -of futility. If it led to a second cabin--well and good. But if it -didn't.... - -He strained his ears to catch the sound of voices. There were no -voices. He could have simply crossed to the door and looked beyond it. -But the state of his nerves, and an odd habit he had of being precise -and cautious under tension, made him explore the other possibilities -first. - -The door might conceivably be a trap. A trap does not have to be -contrived in advance with some clearly defined purpose in mind. -Circumstances can take a door or a window and turn it into a trap. A -glove or a weapon left lying about can be picked up by an innocent man -and snare him most damnably by seeming to point up his guilt. - -What purpose did the inner door serve? Did it open on a corridor -leading back to the general passenger cabin? If it did, it wouldn't be -a trap; it would simply have "blind alley" stamped all over it. - -Corriston suddenly realized that he was succumbing to a crazy kind of -inaction. The door could lead almost anywhere, and if he had any sense -at all he'd go through it fast. - -Go through it he did, in six long strides. He'd been right about one -thing--the blind alley part. He found himself, in not quite total -darkness, in what was unquestionably an intership passageway. There was -just light enough for him to make out the shadowy walls on both sides -of him. Rather they were like metal bulkheads that gave off just enough -reflected light for him to see by. - -He wouldn't have considered ten or twelve seconds spent with a pocket -flash a waste of time. But he had no pocket flash. The best he could do -was stretch out both of his arms to determine just how far apart the -bulkheads were. They were less than six feet apart. - -Well, no sense in measuring the walls. A girl he'd talked to and liked -instantly had vanished in a dark world, and he knew now that there was -more than mere liking in the way he felt about her. He didn't dare ask -himself how much more, not in so confined a space and with his chances -of finding her again dwindling with every second that passed. - -The passageway ended in a blank wall, less than forty feet from its -beginning. Corriston saw the wall and was advancing toward it when he -suddenly realized that the deck itself wasn't continuous. In his path, -and almost directly underfoot, a companionway entrance yawned, so -unexpectedly close that another short step would have sent him plunging -into it. He saw the faint light reflected on its circumference and -halted just in time to avoid a possibly fatal fall. - -He knelt and stared down into a spiraling web of darkness. He could see -a faint glimmer of light on metal and knew that he was bending above -either a circular staircase or a companionway ladder. It turned out -to be a staircase. Down it he went, moving cautiously, holding on to -the supporting guide rail as he descended deeper and deeper into the -darkness. - -The darkness became almost absolute when the stairs ended. For a -moment, at least, what appeared to be utter blackness engulfed him. -Then gradually his vision became more effective. He could make out -the faint outlines of stationary objects, of depths beyond depths, of -crisscrossing lines and angles. - -In utter darkness the glint of metal often seemed to draw the eyes like -a magnet, to make itself known even without illumination. But there -seemed to be a faint glow far off somewhere. He couldn't be sure, but -light there should have been if--as he more than half-suspected--he was -in one of the ship's below-deck ballast or storage compartments. - -The deck beneath his feet was straight and level and cluttered with no -impediments. He moved forward warily, testing every step until a wall -of metal stopped him. He halted abruptly, felt along the barrier and -became aware that it was studded with small bolts and was just a little -corrugated. Exhibit A: one supporting metal beam, rough and slightly -uneven in texture. Abruptly he reached the end of it and found himself -underway again, still moving cautiously to avoid unseen pitfalls. He -had not progressed more than a dozen feet when he heard the scrape of -footsteps other than his own, and someone moved up close to him and -blocked his way in the darkness. - -For an instant the wild thought went through his mind that the someone -was the captain. But he had seen and talked with the Captain and that -self-contained, blunt-spoken man wasn't nearly as big physically as the -path-blocker seemed to be. - -The someone did not speak. But Corriston could sense the enmity flowing -from him, the utter refusal to budge an inch, the determination to make -his nearness a deadly threat in itself. Then the someone moved back a -step. The far-off light could hardly have been an illusion, because for -the barest instant Corriston could dimly make out the huge bulk of the -man and the glint of the knife in his hand. - -Two big men in the space of half an hour! The first had ceased to draw -breath and the second was his killer. Corriston was suddenly sure of -it. He knew it instinctively. - -Then began the struggle which had almost robbed Corriston of his life, -the cruel, one-sided, impossible-to-win struggle in total darkness. - -And Corriston had won it. - - * * * * * - -Now almost in disbelief, Corriston looked down at the knife he had -taken from the loser, telling himself that it was impossible that so -much could have happened in so short a time and that he could still be -alive at the end of it. - -The wound in his shoulder was no longer painless, but it had ceased to -bleed profusely, and his exploring fingers convinced him that the knife -had severed no more than a superficial ligament. He strained his ears -in the sudden quiet, listening for a possible return of his adversary. -He did not think that the defeated man would attempt a second attack. -But there was no telling what he might or might not do. Probably he'd -ascended the companionway by now and was mingling with the other -passengers. - -The final link in Corriston's search had snapped. Even while battling -for his life, he had felt close to the vanished girl. The man who -had killed Clakey had been at least a link, a link that, short of -Corriston's total defeat, might have been seized upon with physical -violence and made to yield up its secret. - -Now Corriston found himself wondering if the defeated man had been -telling the truth. Had the link been non-existent from the first? Was -the killer as completely in the dark as he was as to the whereabouts -of Ramsey's daughter? - -It was difficult to believe that the man had been lying. Despite his -hatred and denials he _had_ offered Corriston a deal: "_Tell me where -the girl is and I may not kill you._" The deal part had been a lie, of -course. He would have gone on and attempted to kill Corriston anyway. -But his plea for information, that tentative, cunning feeler in the -dark had seemed genuine. - -What had been the man's purpose in killing Clakey? Why had Clakey been -murdered in the general passenger cabin, in plain view of the other -passengers? Because the killer had seen the girl go into the lounge and -thought she was still there? And because he wanted free and instant -access to her, with Clakey out of the way? It was the only answer that -made sense. - -The killer must have known that Clakey was in Ramsey's employ and had -been guarding Ramsey's daughter. Why then had he been unable to take -advantage of his crime in any way? Apparently neither he nor a possible -confederate had succeeded in what almost certainly had been a pattern -of violence directed at Ramsey through his daughter--a plan obviously -worked out in advance, ready to be put into operation the instant a -promising opportunity presented itself. - -Into Corriston's mind flashed an ugly picture of the girl pinioned by -strong arms and with a handkerchief pressed to her face. She had ceased -to struggle and was being spirited quickly away. The picture became -even more intolerable when he saw her held captive in a cabin difficult -to locate, at the mercy of men without compassion. - -But for some reason he'd never cease to be thankful for, it hadn't -happened that way. Something had gone wrong with the plan, and the -killer didn't even know when and why and how she had vanished. Sharing -Corriston's frustration, he had been struggling simply to save himself, -to keep Corriston from identifying and exposing him. The fury he'd -displayed was not difficult to understand. - -Corriston found himself becoming more confident again, less dominated -by despair. The change in his mood surprised him but he seized upon -it gratefully and started building on it. There was only one logical -next move. He must find the captain quickly and enlist his help. He -must take the master of the ship fully into his confidence. With every -gift of persuasion at his command, he must make the captain see how the -danger of Ramsey's daughter was mounting and would continue to mount -with every minute that she remained unfound. - -He still felt dizzy, and his head was aching a little, but he moved -quickly through the darkness, his faculties heightened by an intensity -of purpose which enabled him to find the companionway without colliding -with obstacles or taking a wrong turn. Up the stairway he climbed, -still clutching the knife, prepared for a possible second encounter -with its original owner. - -An attempt to regain the knife by trickery and stealth would not have -surprised him. In fact, it was not at all difficult for him to picture -a silent form flattened against the stair-rail, waiting for just the -right moment to come hurtling toward him out of the darkness. For a -moment, as he ascended, the strain became almost unendurable. Then the -darkness dissolved above him, and he was advancing toward the captain's -cabin through the narrow passageway which he had spanned with his arms -spread wide. - -He did not stop to span it this time. He emerged into the cabin and -stood for an instant blinking in the sudden light. The cabin was still -deserted. It was anybody's guess where the captain had gone or when he -would be returning, and Corriston decided not to wait. He walked to the -door, opened it and stepped out into the general passenger cabin. - -No one saw him immediately. There were several passengers fairly close -to him, but they were being attentive for the moment to the words and -gestures of a tall, dignified looking man with observant brown eyes, -a ruddy complexion, and gold braid on his shoulders. The tall man was -Captain John Sanders. - -"I'd be a hypocrite and a liar if I said there was no justification -for alarm," Sanders was saying, in a voice loud enough to carry to -where Corriston was standing. "Strict regulations prescribe that sort -of thing. But it's no way for a captain to keep the respect of his -passengers." - -Corriston felt himself stepping forward before he even thought about -it. But he halted abruptly when the captain said: "There's a murderer -on the loose aboard this ship. You may as well accept that fact right -now. Each of you has to be on his guard. It's only right and proper -that you should keep your eyes and ears open, and _stay_ worried. If -you do, our chances of catching up with him before the ship berths -should be reasonably good." - -The captain paused, then went on quickly: "We'll get him eventually. -You can be sure of that. He'll never get past the inspection each of -you will have to undergo when we reach the Station. But if we catch him -before we reach the Station, you'll be spared an investigative ordeal -distinctly on the rugged side." - -Corriston was suddenly aware that he was being stared at. Everyone was -staring at him. - -"My God!" the Captain cried out, staring the hardest of all. "Where did -you get that wound? Who attacked you? And what were you doing in my -cabin?" - -Corriston walked up to the Captain and said in a voice that trembled -a little. "May I talk to you privately, sir? What I have to say won't -take long." - -"Why not?" Sanders demanded. "That uniform you're wearing makes it -mandatory. All right, come back into my cabin." - -They went back into the cabin. The captain shut the door and turned to -face Corriston with a shocked concern in his stare. - -"You've had it rough, Lieutenant. I can see that." - -"Plenty rough," Corriston conceded. "But it's not myself I'm worried -about." - -"Did you know that a man has just been murdered?" - -"I know," Corriston said. - -"With a poisoned barb. A Martian barb. It's a plant found only on Mars. -We have him stretched out on a table in the sick bay now. But he isn't -sick; he's a corpse. Tell me something, Lieutenant, did you just tangle -with the man who did it?" - -"I think so," Corriston said. "In fact, I'd stake my commission on it." - -"I see. Well, you'd better tell me about it. Tell me everything." - -Corriston told him. - -The captain was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "But we've -no Miss Ramsey on the passenger list. And I certainly didn't invite -her to drink a toast with me in my cabin. Are you sure of your facts, -Lieutenant?" - -Corriston's jaw fell open. He stared at the captain in stunned -disbelief. "Of course I'm sure. Why should I lie to you?" - -"How should I know? It's unfair to ask me that. If Ramsey's daughter -was on this ship, you can rest assured I'd have known about it. After -all, Lieutenant--" - -"But she _was_ on board and you _didn't_ know. Isn't that obvious? -Look, she was traveling incognito. The trip to the Station takes only -five hours. Perhaps in so short a trip--" - -"No 'perhaps' about it. I'd have known." - -"But she _is_ on board, I tell you. I talked to her. I talked to -Clakey. Don't make me go over the whole thing again. We've got to find -her. Ramsey's enemies would stop at nothing. I'm afraid to think of -what they might do to his daughter!" - -"Nothing will happen to his daughter. She's on Earth right this minute -in her father's house, as safe as any girl that wealthy can ever be. -Lieutenant, listen to me. I've got a great deal of respect for that -uniform you're wearing. Don't make me lose it. When you come to me with -a story like that--" - -"All right. You don't believe me. Will you check the passenger list, -just to be sure?" - -"I'll do more than that, Lieutenant. I'll assemble all of the -passengers and check them off personally. I'll give you an opportunity -to look them over while I'm doing it. Later you can ask them as many -questions as you wish. There'll be a murderer among them, but that -shouldn't disturb you too much. You've already met. Perhaps you can -identify him for us. Ask each of the men who made a non-existent Miss -Ramsey disappear and the one who turns pale will be our man." - -Suddenly the captain reddened. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't mean -to be sarcastic. But a murder on my ship naturally upsets me. I'll be -completely frank with you. There's a very remote possibility that Miss -Ramsey actually _is_ on board without my knowledge. She hasn't had much -publicity. I believe I've only seen one photograph of her, one taken -several years ago. But you've got to remember that a captain is usually -the first to get wind of such things. It comes to him by a kind of -grapevine. She's a golden girl--actually the goldenest golden girl on -Earth." - - - - -4 - - -Now Corriston was in a steel-walled cell and the captain's voice seemed -only a far-off echo sympathizing with him. - -And it was an echo, for the captain was gone and he would probably -never see him again. It was all very simple--that part of it--all very -clear. The captain had faithfully kept his word. The captain hadn't let -him down. But any man can end up a prisoner when everyone disbelieves -him and he has no way of proving that he is telling the truth. - -It was hard to believe that a day and a night had passed, and that -the Captain _had_ kept his word and gone ahead with the roll call. It -was even harder to believe that he, Corriston, was no longer on the -ship, but in a sanity cell on the Space Station, and that the ship was -traveling back toward Earth. - -He shut his eyes, and the events of the past thirty hours unrolled -before him with a nightmare clarity, and yet with all of the monstrous -distortions which a nightmare must of necessity evoke. - -Darkness and time and space. And closer at hand the frowns of -forthright, honest men appalled by mental abnormality in a new recruit, -an officer with a steel-lock determination to keep the truth securely -guarded and safe from all distortion. - -There had come the tap on his shoulder and a stern voice saying: "You'd -better come with us, Lieutenant." He had just told the captain the -whole horrible story. He had not been believed. - -"Tell me about it," said the recruit in the bunk opposite Corriston. -"It will help you to talk. Remember, we're not prisoners. We mustn't -think of ourselves as prisoners. We can go out and exercise. We can -walk around the Station for a half-hour or so. We've only got to -promise we'll come back and lock ourselves in. They trust us. It could -happen to anyone. - -"Space-shock. Not a fancy word at all. I'm getting over it; you've a -certain distance to go. Or so they say. But we're still in very much -the same boat and talking always helps. Talk to me, Lieutenant, the way -you did last night." - -Corriston looked at the pale youth opposite him. He had close-cropped -hair and friendly blue eyes, and he seemed a likeable enough lad. -He was Corriston's junior by several years. But there was an aura -of neuroticism about him that made Corriston uneasy. But hell, why -shouldn't he get it off his chest. Talking just _might_ help. - -"It's true," Corriston said. "Every word of it." - -"I believe you, Lieutenant. But quite obviously _they_ didn't. Why -not strike a compromise. Say I'm one-tenth wrong in believing you and -they're nine-tenths right in not believing you. That means there may be -some little quirk in what happened to you that doesn't quite fit into -the normal pattern. Put that down to space-shock--a mild case of it. -I'm not saying you have it, but you could have it." - -The kid was grinning now, and Corriston had to like him. - -"Okay," he said. "You can believe this or not. The captain lined all -of the passengers up and checked them off by their cabin numbers. I -_didn't_ see her. Do you understand? She just wasn't there! I thought -I recognized two of the women who had come out of the ladies' lounge, -but I couldn't even be sure of that. One of the two denied ever having -stepped inside the lounge, and the other was vague about it." - -"I see." - -"The captain really sailed into me for a moment, lost his temper -completely. 'A fine officer you are, Lieutenant. It's painful to be -on the same ship with the kind of officers the training schools turn -out when the Station finds itself short of personnel. Is the Station -planning to trust ships' clearance to hallucinated personnel? - -"'All right, you talked to a girl--some girl. She didn't even tell you -she was Ramsey's daughter; Clakey told you. And he's dead. Not only -is he dead, he wasn't listed on the passenger list as Clakey at all. -His name was Henry Ewers. I don't know what you believed, Lieutenant. -I don't care what you think you saw. You tangled with someone and he -stabbed you. _He_ was real enough ... obviously the man who killed -Ewers. But you let him get away, so even that isn't too much to your -credit.'" - -"If I had been you," the kid said, "I've had knocked him down." - -"No." For the first time Corriston smiled. "To tell you the truth, the -captain is a good guy. He's one of those blunt, moody, terribly human -individuals you encounter occasionally, men who speak their minds on -all occasions and are instantly sorry they did. You have to like them -even when they seem to insult you." - -"He made up for it then?" - -"I'll say he did. He knew that when we landed the officials would be -breathing right down my neck. He wanted to give me every chance. So he -kept the officials away from me until I'd convinced myself Ramsey's -daughter just couldn't be on board. - -"He let me look at every piece of luggage that was taken off the ship. -He had some cargo to unload and he let me inspect that too, every -crate. Most of the crates were too small to conceal a drugged and -unconscious girl--or any girl for that matter. The ones that weren't, -he opened for me and let me look inside. - -"He let me watch every passenger leave the ship. Then, when all of -the passengers had left, he stationed officers in the three main -passageways and I went through the ship from bow to stern. I went into -every stateroom and into every intership compartment. No one could -have kept just a little ahead of me or behind me, dodging back into a -compartment the instant I'd vacated it. They would have been instantly -spotted by one of the officers. - -"The Captain wasn't to blame at all for what happened later ... when I -tried to convince the commanding officers here that I was completely -sane." - -"I see. He must have really liked you." - -"I guess he did. And I liked him." - -The kid nodded. "And the murderer's still at large. That makes it rough -for the sixty odd passengers they're holding in quarantine. How long do -you think they'll hold them in the Big Cage?" - -"As long as they can. They'll keep them under close guard and increase -their vigilance every time there's a suspicious move in the cage. -They'll be screened perhaps a dozen times. But most of them are -influential people. Most of them have booked passage on the Mars' run -liner that's due here next week. They can't hold them forever. They'd -start pulling wires on Earth by short wave and there'd be a legislative -uproar. - -"Suppose they refuse to let them send messages?" - -"They won't refuse. I'm sure of that." - -The kid was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said: "Tell me more about -Ramsey. Just what do you think is happening on Mars?" - -"No one knows exactly what is happening," Corriston said. "But to the -best of my knowledge the overall picture is pretty ugly. The original -settlers have their backs to the wall with a vengeance. Now there are -armed guards at their throats. Ramsey has taken over. He has resorted -to legal trickery to freeze them out. - -"There are perhaps fifty important uranium claims on Mars and Ramsey -has consolidated all of the holdings into a single major enterprise. To -say that he's cornered the market in uranium would be understating the -case. He has taken possession by right of seizure, and the colonists -can't get to him. They're living a hand-to-mouth existence while he -lives in a heavily guarded stronghold behind three miles of electrified -defenses." - -The kid nodded again. "Yes, that's the picture when you unscramble -it, I guess. But most of it is kept hidden from the general run of -tourists." - -"Naturally. Ramsey has the power to keep it under wraps." - -"Do you think the colonists had anything to do with Clakey's murder -and Miss Ramsey's disappearance? Or I guess I should say Henry Ewers' -murder." - -"Clakey, Ewers--his name doesn't matter. I'm convinced that he was Miss -Ramsey's bodyguard." - -"But you haven't answered my question." - -"I can't answer it with any certainty. Did the colonists hire a killer -and book passage for him on the ship? It's difficult to believe that -the kind of men who colonized Mars would resort to murder." - -"But there are a few scoundrels in every large group of men. And what -if they became so desperate they felt they had to fight fire with fire?" - -"Yes, I'd thought of that. It may be the answer." - - - - -5 - - -A half-hour later the kid was taken away and Corriston found himself -completely alone. There are few events in human life more unnerving -than the totally unexpected removal of a sympathetic listener when dark -thoughts have taken possession of a man. - -The kid wasn't forcibly removed from the cell. He left without -protesting and no rough hands were laid on him, no physical violence -employed. But he was not at all eager to leave, and if the guards who -came for him had eyed him less severely, his attitude might have been -the opposite of complacent. - -"Sorry, kid," one of them said. "Your discharge has been postponed. -Somebody on the psycho-staff wants to give you another test. I guess -you didn't interpret the ink blots right." - -He looked at Corriston and shook his head sympathetically. "It's tough, -I know. Once you're here waiting to be released can wear you down. I -shouldn't be saying this, but it stands to reason it might even slow -up your recovery a bit. It's easy to blame the docs, but you've got to -try to understand their side of it. They have to make sure." - -When the door clanged shut behind the kid, Corriston crossed to his -cot, sat down, and cradled his head in his arms. The fact that he was -still free to go outside and walk around the Station was no comfort -at all. That kind of freedom could be worse than total confinement. -He could never hope to escape from observation. The guards were under -orders to watch him, and wherever he turned there'd be eyes boring into -the back of his neck. - -On Earth a man under surveillance could duck quickly into a side -street, run and weave about, and emerge on a broad avenue in the midst -of a crowd. He could walk calmly then for a block or two, and turn in -at a bar. He could drown his troubles in drink. - -There were bars on the Station, of course. But Corriston knew that if -he tried to mingle with officers of his own rank on the upper levels, -he'd quickly enough find himself drinking alone. He could picture the -off-duty personnel edging quickly and resentfully away from him, as -though he'd suddenly appeared in their midst with a big, yawning hole -in his skull. - -Suddenly utter weariness overcame Corriston. He loosened his belt, -elevated his legs, and relaxed on the cot. - -He was asleep almost before he could close his eyes. How long he -slept he had no way of knowing. He only knew that he was awakened by -a sound--the strangest sound a man could hear in space. It was as if -a gnat or a mosquito had developed a sudden, avaricious liking for -his blood-type and was determined to gorge itself to bursting at his -expense. - -The buzzing seemed to go on interminably as he hovered between sleeping -and waking. On and on and on, with absolutely no letup. Then, abruptly, -it ceased. There was a faint swishing sound and something solid thudded -into the hardwood directly above him. - -With a startled cry Corriston leapt from the cot, caught the iron edge -of the bed-guard to keep from falling, and stared up in horror at the -shining expanse of wall space overhead. - -The cell was in almost total darkness. But from the barred window -opposite, a faint glimmer of light penetrated in a diffuse arc, just -enough light to enable him to make out the quivering stem of the barb. - -It _was_ a barb. This was so beyond any possibility of doubt. It had -lodged in the hardwood scarcely a foot above his cot and it was still -quivering. - -Cold sweat broke out on Corriston's palms as he realized how close -death had come, and how almost miraculous had been his escape. Had he -raised himself to slap at the "mosquito" the barb could just as easily -have buried itself in his skull. - -Corriston hesitated for an instant, his eyes on the barred window and -the faint glow beyond. Then his gaze passed to the wall switch. He -decided against switching on the light immediately. He stooped low and -moved quickly to the window, taking care to keep his head well below -the sill. - -For a moment he listened, his every nerve alert. There was no stir of -movement in the darkness beyond the sill, nothing at all to indicate -that someone was crouching there. - -Finally, with an almost foolhardy recklessness, he raised his head and -stared out between the bars. He could see right across to the wall -opposite. The wall was less than eight feet away, and the space between -the wall and his cell appeared to be unoccupied. This did not surprise -him. - -It was utterly silly to think that a man intent on willful murder would -have lingered for any great length of time in so narrow a space. After -having shot his bolt, his immediate concern would have been to get away -as quickly as possible. - -No, definitely, the man was gone, and if he had more barbs to release -he would choose another time and place. - -Even then Corriston did not switch on the light. He had no particular -desire to examine the wood-embedded barb in a bright light. He could -see it clearly enough from where he stood. It was exactly like the barb -which had sealed the lips of that blabbermouth Clakey. - -Corriston went back to his cot and sat down. He told himself it would -be highly dangerous to leave the cell and give the killer another -chance. He had saved himself by refusing to slap a non-existent -mosquito. But in the shadows of the Station there would be no -mosquitoes--non-existent or otherwise. The killer would simply crouch -in shadows, await his chance, and take careful aim. - -What he had to do was find Miss Ramsey, and prove his sanity. If he -stayed in the cell, the shadows would continue to deepen about him, -would become intolerable, and perhaps even drive him to the verge of -actual madness. - -He had to convince the killer that he couldn't be silenced easily and -perhaps not at all. - -Corriston stood up. He ran his hands down his body, taking pride in its -muscular solidity, its remarkable integrity under strain. He still felt -lithe and confident; his physical vitality was unimpaired. - -He had really known all along that he would be leaving the cell. On -Earth you could dodge into a narrow alley between tall buildings -or lean on a stroller platform and be carried underground so fast -that your pursuers would be left blank-faced. If he stayed alert he -could do the same thing on the Station, even though there were no -moving pavements to leap upon. Quite possibly he could even slip out -unnoticed. They might not even be watching the cell door because he -had behaved himself so well up to now. Psycho-cases were permitted to -roam, but if they stayed in their cells precautions would naturally be -relaxed in their favor. - -Corriston now was about to develop a sudden, unanticipated impulse to -roam. The fact that he was completely sane gave him an edge over the -space-shocked recruits. There is nothing quite so terrifying to a man -who doubts his own sanity than the thought that unseen eyes are keeping -tabs on him. He feels guilty and acts guilty and almost invariably his -caution deserts him. - -Corriston was quite sure that he could carry it off, even if he felt -eyes boring into his back the instant he left the cell. He'd simply -bide his time and seize the first opportunity which presented itself. - -Actually, it was easier than he'd imagined it could be. He simply -opened the cell door, walked out; and there was no one in sight to -observe him. So far, so good. The corridor outside was completely -deserted, and when he reached the end of it there was still no one. - -He turned left into a large, square reception room and crossed it -without hurrying, his shoulders held straight. Photoelectric eyes? Yes, -possibly, but he had no intention of letting the thought worry him. If -he were being watched mechanically, there was nothing he could do about -it and somehow he didn't think that he had crossed any photoelectric -beams. Certainly no doors had swung open or closed behind him, and -photoelectric alarm system without visible manifestations could be -dismissed as a not too likely possibility. - -When Corriston emerged in the glass-encased, wide-view observation -promenade on the Station's Second Level, he was no longer alone. On -all sides men and women jostled him, walking singly and in pairs, -in uniform and in civilian clothes, or hurrying off in dun-gray, -space-mechanic anonymity. - -The promenade was crowded almost to capacity and yet the men and women -seemed mere walking dots scattered at random beneath the immense -structures of steel and glass which walled them in. A feeling of -unreality came upon Corriston as he stared upward. He deliberately -moderated his stride, as if fearful that a too rapid movement in -any one direction might send him spinning out into space with a -glass-shattering impetus which he would be powerless to control. - -It was an illogical fear and yet he could not entirely throw it off, -and he did not seriously try. It was not nearly as important as the -possibility that he might be being followed. There was no one behind -him who looked in the least suspicious, and no one in front of him -either. But how could he be completely sure? - -The answer was that he couldn't. He had to trust his instincts, and so -far they had given him every assurance that he was moving in a free, -independent orbit of his own, completely unobserved. - -And then, quite suddenly, he ceased to move at all. - -Something quite startling was taking place throughout the length -and breadth of the observation promenade. The men in uniform were -exchanging alarmed glances and departing in haste. The civilians were -crowding closer to the panes. They were collecting in awestruck groups -of blinding light crisscrossed high above their heads. - -They were all looking in one direction, but a few of them had been -taken so completely by surprise that they stood motionless in the -middle of the promenade. Corriston was one of the motionless ones, but -his eyes were quick to seek out the nearest viewpane. - -At first he thought that a gigantic meteor had appeared suddenly out -of the stellar dark and was rushing straight toward the Station with a -velocity so great as to be almost unimaginable. - -Then he realized that it wasn't a meteor. It was a spaceship. And it -wasn't rushing straight toward the Station. It had either bypassed or -encircled the Station and passed beyond it, for it was now heading -out into space again. He could see the long, bright trail left by its -rocket jets, the diffuse incandescence in its wake. - - - - -6 - - -An officer with two stripes on his shoulder was standing almost at -Corriston's elbow. He hadn't turned to depart, and for some reason he -seemed reluctant to do so. The space-ship's erratic course seemed to -absorb him to the exclusion of all else. - -He started swearing under his breath. Then he saw Corriston and a -strange look came into his face. He looked at Corriston steadily for a -moment, then looked quickly away. - -Corriston edged slowly away from him and joined the nearest group of -civilians. They were all talking at once and it was hard to understand -precisely what they were saying. But after a moment a few enlightening -fragments of information greatly lessened his bewilderment. - -"_That freighter was preparing to land at the Station, but for some -reason it couldn't make contact. It never even began to decelerate._" - -"_How do you know?_" - -"_I asked one of the officers--that gray-haired man over there. He was -plenty worried. I guess that's why he talked so freely. He'd had some -kind of dispute with the captain, apparently. He told me that trouble -developed aboard that freighter when it was eight or ten thousand -miles away. An emergency message came through, but for some reason the -captain kept it pretty much to himself._" - -Watching the freighter's hull blaze with friction as it went into a -narrow orbit about Earth, Corriston tried hard to make himself believe -that the particular manner of a spaceman's departure was simply one, -tragic aspect of a calculated risk, that men who lived dangerously -could hardly expect to die peacefully in their beds. But it was a -rationalization without substance. In an immediate and very real sense -he was inside the freighter, enduring an eternity of torment, sharing -the agonizing fate that was about to overtake the crew. - -Nearer and nearer to Earth the freighter swept, completely encircling -the planet like a runaway moon with an orbital velocity so great the -eye could hardly follow it. - -"It will blast out a meteor pit as wide as the Grand Canyon if it -explodes on land," someone at Corriston's elbow said. "I wouldn't care -to be within a hundred miles of it." - -"Neither would I. It could wipe out a city, all right--any city within -a radius of thirty miles. This is _really_ something to watch!" - -The freighter had encircled Earth twice and was now so close to its -blue-green oceans and the dun-colored immensity of its continental land -masses that it had almost disappeared from view. It had dwindled to a -tiny, glowing pinpoint of radiance crossing the face of the planet, -an erratically weaving firefly that had abandoned all hope of guiding -itself by a light that was about to flare up with explosive violence -and put an end to its life. - -The freighter was invisible when the end came. It was invisible when -it struck and rebounded and channeled a deep pit in a green valley on -Earth. But the explosion which followed was seen by every man and woman -on the Station's wide-view promenade. - -There were three tremendous flares, each opening and spreading outward -like the sides of a funnel, each a livid burst of incandescence -spiraling outward into space. - -As seen from the Station the flares were not, of course, so tragically -spectacular. They resembled more successive flashes of almost -instantaneous brightness, flashes such as had many times been produced -by the tilting of a heliograph on the rust-red plains of Mars under -conditions of maximum visibility. - -It takes an experienced eye to interpret such phenomena correctly, and -among the spectators on the promenade there were a few, no doubt, who -were not even quite sure that the freighter _had_ exploded. - -But Corriston had no doubts at all on that score. The full extent of -the tragedy would be revealed later by radio communication from Earth. - -There was a long silence before anyone spoke. The group around -Corriston seemed paralyzed by shock, unable to express in words how -blindly hopeful they had dared to be, or how fatalistic from the -first. There were a few moist eyes among the women, an awkward, almost -reverent shuffling of feet. - -Then the young man at Corriston's elbow cleared his throat and said in -a barely audible whisper: "It didn't come down in the sea." - -"I know," Corriston said. "It came down in North America, close to the -Canadian border." - -"In the United States?" - -"Yes, I think so. We can't be sure. It's too much to hope there was no -destruction of human life after an explosion of that magnitude." - -Corriston suddenly realized that he was behaving like a man who -had taken complete leave of his wits. He was drawing more and more -attention to himself when he should have been bending all of his -efforts toward making himself as inconspicuous as possible. - -Fortunately the agitation of everyone on the promenade was helping to -remedy his blunder. His wisest course now was simply to recede as an -individual, to move silently to the perimeter of the group and just as -silently vanish. - -He was confident that he could accomplish it. He began elbowing his -way backwards until there were a dozen men and women in front of him. -He let himself be observed briefly as a grim-lipped spectator who -had taken such an emotional pounding that he could endure no more. -Suddenly he saw his chance and took it. There was another small group -of civilians close to the group he had joined, and he ducked quickly -behind them, using their turned-away backs as a shield. He edged -toward a paneled door on his right, his only concern for the moment -being a comparatively simple one. He must get away from the crowded -promenade as swiftly as possible. - -He reached the door, swung the panel wide, and stepped into the long, -brightly-lighted compartment beyond without a backward glance. Almost -immediately he perceived that he had committed an act of folly. The -compartment was a promenade cafeteria and it was crowded with an -overflow of agitated men and women discussing the tragedy in heated -terms. - -_Keep cool now. None of these people are interested in you. Keep cool -and keep on walking. There's another door and you can be through it in -less than a minute_, Corriston told himself. - -There was a pretty waitress behind the long counter, and as he came -abreast of her she smiled at him. For an instant he hesitated, eyed -the stool opposite her, and fought off an incongruous but almost -irresistible impulse to sit down. Quick warmth and sudden sympathy. -Yes, he could do with a bit of both, Corriston thought. - -It was sheer insanity, but he _did_ sit down. He eased himself into the -stool and ordered a cup of coffee. - -"Something with it?" the waitress asked. "A sandwich, or--" - -"No, no, I don't think so," Corriston said quickly. "Just the coffee." - -The waitress seemed in no hurry to depart. "It was pretty terrible what -happened. Wasn't it?" - -"Did you see it?" Corriston asked. - -"I saw most of it. I saw the ship go past the Station and start to -explode. I saw that black wing, or whatever it was, drop off. Then -someone started shouting in here and I came back. They say it crashed -on Earth." - -"That's right," Corriston said, telling himself that he was a damned -fool for wanting to look at her hair and hear her friendly woman's -voice when every passing second was adding to his danger. - -"You saw it crash?" - -Corriston nodded. "I just came from the promenade." - -"That was a crazy thing to ask you. How excited can you get? I saw you -come through that door. You looked kind of pale." - -"I still feel that way," Corriston said. - -The waitress then said a surprising thing: "I wonder what it is about -some men. You just have to look at them once and you know they're the -sort you'd like to be with when something terrible happens. You know -what I mean?" - -"Sure," Corriston said. "Any port in a storm." - -The waitress smiled again. "I don't mean that, exactly. Please don't -think I'm handing you a line. There's just something ... comfortable -about you. You go all pale when something bad happens to other people. -That's good; I like that. It means you can feel for other people. -You're a gentle sort of guy, but I bet you can take care of yourself -and anyone you care about. I just bet you can." - -The waitress flushed a little, as if afraid that she had said too much. -She turned and walked slowly toward the coffee percolator at the far -end of the counter. - -He was glad now that he had ordered the coffee. The coffee would help -too. He suddenly felt that he was under observation, that hostile eyes -were watching him. But it was no more than just a feeling; and coffee -and sympathy might drive it away. - -_How blindly, stupidly foolish could a guy be?_ Corriston thought. _If -he had any sense at all he wouldn't wait for the coffee. He'd get up -quickly and head for the door at the other end of the cafeteria. He'd -either do that, or swing about abruptly and attempt to catch the silent -watcher by surprise._ - -Corriston decided to wait for the coffee. - -The waitress looked at him strangely when she returned. She set the -coffee down before him and started to turn away, her eyes troubled. -Then, suddenly, she seemed to change her mind. She leaned close to him -and whispered: "You'd better leave by the promenade door. That man over -there has been watching you. I know him very well. He's a Security -Guard." - -Corriston nodded and stared at her gratefully for a moment. He was -more relieved than alarmed. It was far better to have a Security Guard -watching him than a killer with a poisoned barb. He wasn't exactly -happy about it, but he was confident he could elude the agent. - -The waitress' eyes were suddenly warm and friendly again. -"Space-shock?" she asked. - -"So they claim," Corriston said. "I happen to think they're mistaken." - -He started sipping the coffee. It was hot but not steaming hot. He -could have tossed it off like a jigger of rye but he had some quick -thinking to do. - -"Tell me," he said. "Just where is that guard sitting?" - -"At the other end of the counter," the waitress replied, the anxiety -coming back into her eyes. "He's close to the door. You'd have to go -past him. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think you want to get away from him. -So you'd better go the way you came--by the promenade door." - -"That's not too good an idea, I'm afraid," Corriston said. "He'd follow -me and get assistance on the promenade. What's beyond the other door? -Where does it lead to?" - -"It opens on a corridor," the waitress said quickly. "If you can get -past him you might have a better chance that way. There's nothing but a -corridor with two side doors. One opens on an emergency stairway that -goes down to the Master Sequence Selector compartments." - -She seemed to take pride in her knowledge. Due to a space-shocked guy's -difficulties, the Master Sequence Selector had become an important -secret shared between them. Corriston wondered if she knew that the -Selector functioned on thirty-two separate kinds of automatic controls. - -If he ever got the chance, he'd come back and tell her exactly how -grateful he was. Right at the moment one consideration alone dominated -his thinking. If he could get past the guard he could hide out in an -intricate maze of machinery. Even if they sent a dozen guards down -to look for him it would take them some time to locate him. He could -hide-out and gain a breathing spell. - -The waitress had a very small hand. Abruptly Corriston clasped it and -held it for an instant, his fingers exerting a firm, steady pressure. -"Thanks," he said. - -Corriston swung about without glancing toward the end of the counter. -He'd pass the guard quickly enough; there was no sense in alerting -the man in advance. As for recognizing him, that would be no problem -at all. You couldn't mistake a Security Guard no matter what kind of -clothes he wore. - -Corriston took his time. He walked slowly, refusing to hurry. A man -under surveillance should never hurry. He should be casual, completely -at his ease, for there is no better way of keeping an observer guessing. - -He kept parallel with the long counter, his shoulders swaying a little -with the assurance of a man who knows exactly where he is going. -Presently the entire length of the counter was behind him, and he was -less than a yard from the door. - -He hadn't glanced once at the counter. He didn't intend to now. One -quick leap would carry him through the door and beyond it, and to hell -with recognizing the guard. When it was touch and go and odd man out, -you altered your plan as you went along. - -He'd seen a girl disappear when everyone said it didn't happen. -Confined to a psycho-ward, he had simply walked out, eluded a killer, -and watched a ship explode on the green hills of Earth. He'd survived -all that, so how could one lone Security Guard stop him now? - -He was preparing to leap, when something got in his way--a shadow--a -shadow for an instant between himself and the door, and then a dark -bulk stepping right into the shoes of the shadow and filling it out. - -The Security Guard was not at all the kind of person he'd expected -him to be. He was not a big ape, not even a muscular-looking man. He -had simply seemed big for the instant he took to fill the place of -his shadow. He was a man of average height, average build. He blocked -the doorway without bluster, looking very calm and relaxed. Only his -eyes were cold and accusing and dangerously narrowed as he surveyed -Corriston from head to foot. - -"I'm afraid you'll have to go back to the ward now," he said. "You -picked a bad time to take a turn about the Station. Ordinarily you'd -be privileged to do so. That's part of the therapy. But you picked a -_very_ bad time." - -"I'm beginning to realize that," Corriston said. "I couldn't help it, -though. I had no way of knowing that freighter was out of control. I'm -afraid you've made a mistake, too, though. I'm not going back to the -cell." - -Corriston had been watching the man's right arm. Suddenly it went back -and his fist started rising, started coming up fast at an angle that -could have sent it crashing against Corriston's jaw. - -Corriston had no intention of letting that happen. He side-stepped -quickly and delivered a smashing blow to the pit of the guard's -stomach. The blow was so solid that it doubled the guard up. His knees -buckled and he started to fold. - -Corriston didn't take the folding for granted. A second blow caught the -man squarely on the jaw and a third thudded into his rib section. For -an instant he looked so dazed that Corriston felt sorry for him. - -He was still half-doubled up when he sank to the floor and straightened -out. He straightened out on his side first, and then rolled over on his -back and stopped moving. His lips hung slackly, his eyes were wide and -staring. - -The look on his face gave Corriston a jolt. It was a very strange -look. The fact that his features had become slack was not startling -in itself, but there was something unnatural, unbelievable, about the -way that muscular relaxation had overspread his entire countenance. His -features were putty-gray and they seemed to have no clearly defined -boundaries. - -His nose, eyes, and forehead looked as if the ligaments which held them -together had snapped from overstrain or had been severed by a surgeon's -scalpel ... severed and allowed to go their separate ways without -interference. - -In fact, there was no real expression on the man's face at all--no -recognizably human expression--not even the stuporous look of a man -knocked suddenly unconscious. - -There was agitation now in the cafeteria, a hum of angry voices, a -rising murmur that was coming dangerously close. Corriston shut his -mind to it. He knelt at the guard's side and swiftly unbuttoned the -unconscious man's heavy service jacket. He felt around under the jacket -until he was satisfied that he could move on through the doorway with -a clear conscience. The guard's heart was beating firmly and steadily. -There was a reassuring warmth under the jacket as well, a complete -absence of clamminess. - -Suddenly the guard groaned and started to roll over on his side again. -Corriston didn't wait for him to complete the movement. He arose -quickly and was through the door in four long strides. - -He preferred not to run. He was not so much fleeing as seeking a -security he was entitled to, a reasonably safe port in a storm that was -threatening to take away his freedom by blanketing him in a dark cloud -of unjust suspicion and utter tyranny. - -The corridor was as deserted as he'd hoped it would be. With no one -to get in his way or sound an alarm, he had no difficulty at all in -locating the emergency passageway which descended in a rail-guarded -spiral to the Master Sequence Selector. He kept his right hand on the -safety rail as he moved downward into the darkness. For the first time -he felt extremely tired. - - - - -7 - - -The drone of machinery in a high-vaulted, metal-walled compartment -awakened Corriston. It was for the most part a steady, low, continuous -sound. But occasionally it ceased to be a drone, in a strict sense, -and became high-pitched. It became a shrill, almost intolerable whine, -impinging unpleasantly on his eardrums and preventing him from going to -sleep again. - -For interminable minutes he lay stretched out at full length in the -lidded, coffinlike rag bin into which he had crawled, a lethargic -weariness enveloping him like a shroud. Above his head steel-blue -surfaces crisscrossed, vibrating planes of metal and wire intricately -folded back upon themselves. - -After a moment, when the steady drone was well in the ascendency again, -he sat up and stared about him. He had a throbbing headache and there -was a dryness in his throat which made swallowing difficult. - -He was certainly not an exceptional man in regard to such matters. -During moments of crises he could remain fairly calm and self-possessed -but the aftermath could be killing. - -He felt now as if all of his nerves had been squeezed together in a -vise. He looked at his wrist watch and was amazed to discover that he -had slept for eight hours. If a search had been made for him, he had no -reason to complain about his luck. He hadn't even closed the lid of the -bin. But perhaps the oil-stained waste he had drawn over himself had -given them the idea that he was just more waste underneath. - -Perhaps the guards didn't give a damn whether they found him or not. -It was quite possible. On a low official level a cynical desire for -self-comfort could dominate the thinking of a man. - -It was quite possible that the guards who had been sent down to -search for him--or one of the guards, at least--had been angry at his -superiors. Just a quick look and to hell with it--that must have been -his attitude. - -It made sense in another way. They wouldn't suspect the bin because the -bin was so conspicuous and obvious a hiding place. The Purloined Letter -sort of thing. Crawl into an empty coffin at a funeral and no one will -give you a second glance. All dead men look alike. - -The Master Sequence Selector compartment was a coffin, too--a big, -all-metal coffin arching above him and hemming him in. If he hoped to -get out of it alive, he'd have to do more than just beat on the lid -with his fists. - -Almost instantly he was ashamed of his thoughts. He had been extremely -lucky so far. The funeral was over, the sod firmly in place. They would -not be likely to dig him up on suspicion, and he could stay buried -until he starved to death. - -The worst would be over when they found him. The thirst torment would -be the worst, but if it became unbearable he would still have the -choice of surrendering himself. - -Quite possibly he _would_ die of thirst. Quite possibly he could shout -his lungs out and still remain trapped. If a search had been made and -they had failed to find him, sullen anger might have tempted them -to do an unthinkable thing. They might have locked the door of the -compartment so that the corpse would have no opportunity of escaping -prematurely and making them look like fools. - -Corriston was just starting to climb out of the bin to investigate -the truth or falseness of that utterly demoralizing possibility when -he heard the sound. It was a very peculiar sound, three or four -times repeated, and he heard it clearly above the low drone of the -Selector's automatic controls. - -He stood up in the bin, straining his ears. It came again, louder this -time. It was only a short distance away and it was a voice sound, -unmistakably a voice sound. - -He climbed out of the bin, grasped a metal rod that projected from -one of the cross-beams, and descended cautiously to the base of the -Selector. The droning increased for an instant, rising to a whine so -high-pitched that he could no longer hear the voice. - -He started moving around the edge of the Selector, keeping well within -its shadow, watching shafts of dull light move backwards and forwards -across the floor. He hardly expected anyone to leap out at him. The -voice had not seemed quite that near; in fact, he was by no means sure -that it had come from the compartment at all. But if not from the -compartment, where? - -He found out quickly enough. There was a square, windowlike grate a few -feet from the Selector's automatic control panel, set high up on the -wall. A faint, steady glow came from it. - -Corriston paused for an instant directly below the glow, measuring the -distance from the floor to the aperture with his eyes. He strained his -ears again, waiting for the whine to subside. It continued shrill, but -suddenly he heard the voice again, heard it above the whine. - -There was stark terror in the voice. It was despairing and desperate -in its pleading, and it seemed to Corriston that he would remember it -until he died. He thought he recognized the voice, but he couldn't be -sure. - -It was perhaps merciful that he couldn't, for the grate was at least -ten feet above the floor and had he known beyond the faintest shadow -of doubt that it was Helen Ramsey's voice, his inability to reach her -would have been fiendish torment. - -He hoped only one thing--that he had to reach that voice in time. - -First of all he had to stay calm. Even a calm man could not hope to -scale a ten-foot wall with his bare hands, but an agitated man would -have no chance at all. Something to stand on! A box--anything! - -A box would help, a ladder would be better. But what were his chances -of finding a ladder in the Selector compartment? Not good at all. -Still, he could search for a ladder. Quickly now. No time to waste, but -don't lose your head. Take thirty seconds, a good long thirty seconds -to look around for a metal ladder. There just might be one standing -somewhere against the wall. - -There was! Not one ladder, but two, leaning against the wall directly -opposite the glimmering front section of the Selector. - -It was amazing how desperation could change a man. In the great moments -of danger and desperation small, neurotic concerns ceased to matter. - -He was sure now. He had recognized the voice beyond any possibility of -doubt. The ladder scraped against the wall and swayed a little, and for -an instant he feared it might slide out from under him. He paused to -make sure, and then went swiftly on up until his head was level with -the grate. - -He grasped the heavy grillwork with both hands and raised himself -higher. He could see clearly through the grill into the compartment -beyond now. The entire compartment was visible from where he stood. It -was small and square and dimly lighted by an overhead lamp, and there -was a paneled door leading into it. - -Close to the door a man was standing. Corriston couldn't see his face. -He was half-turned away from the wall opposite him, and the girl who -was struggling to escape from him was more than two-thirds concealed by -his massive shoulders. - -He was holding her in a tight, merciless grip. He had locked one hand -on her wrist and was preventing her from moving either backwards or -forwards. It was costing him no effort. He simply stood very straight -and still while she struggled vainly to free herself. - -Immense strength seemed to emanate from him, complete assurance and -a coldly calculating kind of brutality which appeared to be slowly -undermining her will to resist. Her struggles became less frantic -second by slow second, and that she was about to stop struggling -altogether was evident from the way her right arm had begun to dangle -and her body to sag. - -The man was holding her by the left wrist in a left-handed grip. He was -cruelly twisting her wrist and suddenly she cried out again in pain and -despairing helplessness. - -The blood started mounting to Corriston's temples. He began tugging at -the grate with both hands, exerting all his strength in a desperate -effort to dislodge it. It began to move a little, to become less firmly -attached to the wall. He could feel it moving under his hands, rasping -and creaking as it loosened inch by inch. - -He was covered with sweat. Already in his mind he had killed the man, -and Helen Ramsey was tight in his arms, happy and alive. - -The man did not seem to hear the rasp of the grate coming loose. He -neither turned nor raised his head. His free hand had gone out and -across the girl's face. But if he had struck her on the face, she gave -no sign. She did not recoil as if from a blow and there was something -strange about the movement. It was as if the man had reached out to -tear something from the girl's face--a veil or a mask. - -His hand whipped back empty but his fingers were oddly twisted, as if -he had clawed at something that had failed to come free. - -Corriston pulled back his shoulders and his posture on the ladder grew -more erect. He knew that his exertions might send the ladder toppling -but it was a risk he had to take. - -The grate was freely movable now. He could move it backwards and -forwards, six or eight inches each way; but he still could not rip it -completely free. - -He kept on tugging, his neck cords bulging, the ladder swaying -dangerously. The grate could be moved upward now, just a little. No, it -was finally coming completely loose. He could move it in all directions -and even push it outward at right angles to its base. - -Twice he heard Helen Ramsey cry out again, and her screams became a -goad that turned his wrists to steel. With a sudden, convulsive wrench -he twisted the grate sideways. It came loose in his hands. It was so -surprisingly light that an incongruous rage surged up in him. It was -cruelly perverse, intolerable, that he should have been so long delayed -by a thin sheet of metal that hardly seemed to have any weight at all. - -He swung about on the ladder and let the grate drop. It struck the -floor a few feet from the Selector and rebounded with a clang loud -enough to wake the dead. The ladder swayed again, and he had to grab -the edge of the aperture quickly and with both hands to keep himself -from toppling. - -He pulled himself forward through the aperture on his stomach, taking -care not to dislodge the ladder. His temples were pounding and his -palms sticky with sweat. He did not look down until he was completely -through, dreading what he might see. - -He passed a hand over his eyes. It was unbelievable, but he had -to believe it. The man was gone and the girl was now alone in the -compartment. - -Had the man fled in sudden fear, knowing that Corriston would be -consumed with a killing rage that would make him a more than dangerous -adversary? Corriston didn't think so. The man had looked quite capable -of putting up a furious struggle. More likely he had disappeared to -keep himself from being recognized, or because he had accomplished his -purpose. - -Blind, embittered anger again boiled up in Corriston. Had the man -waited, he would have rejoiced and been less angry. He would have taken -a calm, deep breath and slowly set about the almost pleasant task of -killing him. - -He felt cheated, outraged. Then his concern for Helen Ramsey made him -forget his rage. Had she been felled with a blow, or had she simply -fainted? He started down, then hesitated. - -The ladder first. Before he descended it was necessary to make sure -that the ladder would be in the same compartment with him, set firmly -against the wall, directly under the aperture. If he were prevented -from leaving the compartment by the corridor door, he might find -himself needing the ladder. Without it he might be descending into a -trap that could close with a clang and abruptly imprison him. - -Getting down into the compartment was the worst part, just putting the -ladder into place and not knowing how badly hurt she was. - -_What if she's dead?_ he thought. _What if he killed her with a single -blow? He looked strong enough. He could have killed her. God, don't let -me think of that. I mustn't think it._ - -His feet touched the floor. He let out his breath slowly, turned and -crossed the floor to where she was lying. He went down on his knees and -lifted her into his arms. She lay relaxed in his arms, face up, quiet, -her lips slightly parted. - -He looked down into her face, and for a moment his mind went numb, -became still, so that there was no longer a whirling inside his -head--only a chilling horror. - -She seemed to have two faces. One was shrunken and almost torn away, -a shredded fragment of a face. But enough of it remained for him to -see the shriveled flesh of the cheeks, the puckered mouth, the white -hair clinging to the temples. It was the face of an old woman but so -fragmentary that it could not even have been called a half-face. And -even though it had been almost ripped away, it seemed still to adhere -firmly to the face to which it had been attached, and to blend with it, -so that the features of both faces intermingled in a quite unnatural -way. - -Not quite, though; Helen Ramsey's face was sharper, more distinct--all -of the features stood out more clearly. And when Corriston's stunned -mind began to function normally again, he realized that the old woman's -face was--had to be--a plastic mask. - -It took him only an instant to remove the ghastly thing from features -which he could not bear to see defaced. - -He had to pry it loose, but he did so very gently, exactly as a -sculptor might have pried loose a life mask from the face of a -recumbent model. - -He held it in his hand and looked at it, and a little of the horror -crept back into his mind. - -It was the merest fragment, as he had thought. Thin, flexible, a -tissue-structure of incomplete, aged features, and with an inner -surface that was very rough and uneven, as if something had been torn -from it. - -He could have crumpled it up in his hand, but he did not do so. With -a lack of foresight which he was later to regret--a lack which was to -prove tragic--he simply flung it from him, as though its ugliness had -unnerved him so that he could no longer endure the sight of it. - -Helen Ramsey was a dead weight in his arms, and for a moment he feared -that she had stopped breathing. So great was his fear, so paralyzing, -that his hand on her pulse became rigid, and for a moment he could -neither move nor think. - -Then he felt the slow beat of her pulse and a great thankfulness came -upon him. - -He knew then that he must get help as quickly as possible. He eased her -gently to the floor, walked to the door and locked it securely. Then -he returned to her and took her into his arms again. He spent several -minutes trying to revive her. But when she did not open her eyes, did -not even stir in his arms, he knew that he could not wait any longer. - - - - -8 - - -An inexorable kind of determination enabled Corriston to get to the -Station's central control compartment, and confront the commander, -when the latter, absorbed by matters of the utmost urgency, had -triple-guarded his privacy by stationing executive officers outside the -door. - -Commander Clement was a small man physically, with a strangely bland, -almost cherubic face. But his face was dark with anger now--or possibly -it was shock that he was experiencing--and the heightened color seemed -to add to his dignity, making him look not merely forcibly determined, -but almost formidable. His white uniform and the seven gold bars on -each epaulet helped a good deal too. It was impossible to determine at -a glance just how great was his inner strength, but Corriston knew that -he could not have gotten where he was had he not possessed unalloyed -resoluteness. - -He was standing by a visual reference mechanism which looked almost -exactly like a black stovepipe spiraling up from the deck. There was -a speaking tube in his hand, and he was talking into it. He seemed -completely unaware that he was no longer alone. - -Had Corriston been less agitated he would have felt a little sorry for -the officer who had admitted him. The officer had been so impressed by -Corriston's gravity and the earnestness with which he had pleaded his -case that he had stepped forward and opened the door without question, -assuming, no doubt, that Clement would look up instantly and see -Corriston standing just inside the doorway. - -Now the door had closed again, Clement hadn't looked up, and the -officer was going to be in trouble. But Corriston had no time and very -little inclination to worry about that. What Commander Clement was -saying into the speaking tube had a far stronger claim on his attention. - -"It's the worst thing that could have happened," Clement was saying. -"We can't just brazen it out. It's going to mean trouble, serious -trouble. What's that? How should I know what happened? When you're -carrying a certain kind of cargo a thousand things can go wrong. The -ship went out of control, that's all. The first radio message didn't -tell me anything. The captain was trying to cover up to save himself. -He didn't even want _me_ to know. - -"You bet it can happen again. We've got to be prepared for that, too. -But right now--" - -Commander Clement saw Corriston then. His expression didn't change, but -it seemed to Corriston that he paled slightly. - -"That's all for now," he said, and returned the speaking tube to its -cradle. - -He looked steadily at Corriston for a moment. A glint of anger appeared -in his eyes, and suddenly they were blazing. - -"What do you mean by coming in here unannounced, Lieutenant?" he -demanded. "I gave strict orders that no one was to be admitted. If I -didn't know you were suffering from severe space-shock...." - -"I'm sorry, sir," Corriston said quickly. "It's very urgent. I think -I can convince you that I am _not_ suffering from space-shock. I've -found Miss Ramsey. She's been badly hurt and needs immediate medical -attention." - -The Commander looked as if a man he had thought sane was standing -before him with a gun in his hand. Not Corriston, but some other, more -violent man. For a moment longer he remained rigid and then his hand -went out and tightened on Corriston's arm. - -"By heaven, if you're lying to me!" - -"I would have no reason to lie, sir. It proves I'm not a space-shock -case. But that's unimportant now. She's safe for the moment. No one can -get to her. I bolted the door on the inside. Unless--" - -Corriston went pale. "No, there's no danger. I drew the ladder up and -returned it to the Selector compartment. Then I threw the lock on the -emergency door." - -"Start at the beginning," Clement said. "If she's in danger well get to -her. Take it easy now, and tell me exactly what happened." - -Corriston went over it fast. He said nothing about the mask. Let -Clement find that out for himself. - -Commander Clement walked to the door, threw it open and spoke to the -executive officer who was stationed outside. The officer came into the -control room. - -"Stay with Lieutenant Corriston until I get back," Clement said. "He's -not to leave. He understands that." - -He turned back to Corriston. "I'm afraid you'll have to consider -yourself still under guard, Lieutenant. I have only your word that you -found Miss Ramsey. I believe you, but there are some regulations even I -can't waive." - -"It's all right," Corriston said. "I won't attempt to leave. But please -hurry, sir." - -Commander Clement hesitated, then said with a smile: "I knew about the -guard you knocked out, Lieutenant. You're a very hot-headed young man. -That's _really_ a court-martial offense, but perhaps we can smooth it -over if you're telling the truth now. You were in the position of a man -imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit. If he can prove his innocence, -the law is very lenient. He can escape and still get a full pardon, -even a pardon with apologies. It's a different matter, of course if he -_kills_ a guard to escape. You didn't." - -Corriston was tempted to say, "I think perhaps I tried to, sir," but -thought better of it. He'd ask Clement later why the guards who had -been sent down into the Selector compartment had failed to find him. -It wasn't important enough now to waste a second thought on, but just -out of curiosity he would ask. - -He didn't have to. After Clement had departed the executive officer -told him. "They made a pretty thorough search for you," he said. "Or so -they claimed. But they had been drinking heavily--every one of them. -Maintaining discipline can be a terrible headache at times. There's a -lot of objectivity about the commander and he doesn't try to crack down -too hard. He knows what it means to be out here for months with nothing -to break the monotony. Hell, if we could send for our wives more often -it wouldn't be so bad." - -Corriston's palms were cold. He stood very still, wondering how long it -would take the commander to return with the news he wanted to hear. - -"The question is whether life is really worth living without a woman to -talk to," the executive officer went on. "Just to lie relaxed and watch -a pretty girl move slowly around a room. It does something for you." - -Corriston wished the man would keep quiet. Under ordinary circumstances -he could have sympathized heartily. He couldn't now. There was only one -girl he wanted to see walk around a room, and she might just as well -have been at the opposite end of space. - -She wasn't walking around a room now. She was lying helplessly sprawled -out, waiting for rescue to come. It had to come soon, it had to. The -commander wouldn't just go down alone after her. He'd be accompanied by -a half-dozen executive officers who would know exactly how to bundle -her into a stretcher and carry her to the sick bay. - -But what if a killer just happened to be crouching in one of the -corridors, waiting for the stretcher to pass? A killer with a poisoned -barb.... - -Corriston couldn't stand still. He walked back and forth across the -control room while the executive officer continued to talk. He paid no -heed at all. - -Corriston heard a footfall as he paced. He turned and saw that -Commander Clement had returned. He was standing in the doorway with a -strange look on his face. - -Corriston felt bewildered, unable to quite believe that Clement was -really back. It was like a dream that had suddenly turned real, a -looking glass reversal with a strange quality of distortion about it. - -It was real enough. Clement entered and shut the door behind him, very -firmly and carefully, as if he wanted to make sure that Corriston would -not attempt to escape. - -He walked slowly forward, looking at the executive officer as if -Corriston had no place at all in his thoughts. - -"Everything he told me was a lie," Clement said. "Everything. There -was no girl. The compartment was locked; so was the emergency door -leading down to the Selector. The ladder was standing against the wall -in the Selector compartment. Miss Ramsey could not have been in the -compartment--not at any time. There was nothing to indicate it. She -just wasn't there." - -Corriston moved toward him, his face white. "That's a lie and you know -it. What have you done with her? You'd better tell me. You can have me -court-martialed, but you can't stop me from talking. I can prove she -was there. The grate--" - -"The grate? What are you talking about? There was no ripped-out grate. -The grate was in place. I feel very sorry for you, Lieutenant. But I -can't let sympathy stand in the way of my duty. In some respects you're -very rational. You can think logically and clearly ... up to a point. -But the shock weakness is there. It's very serious when you start -having actual hallucinations." - -The executive officer had drawn his gun. He was holding it rather -loosely in his hand now, triggered and ready for any dangerous or -suspicious move on Corriston's part. - -There was nothing in Clement's gaze as he swung about to refute the -dark mistrust that had come into the executive officer's eyes. He -seemed intent only on bolstering that mistrust by driving even deeper -nails into Corriston's coffin. - -"I'm afraid we'll have to continue to regard Lieutenant Corriston as -dangerously unstable," he said. "Keep your gun on him when you take him -back to the Ward. Don't relax your vigilance for an instant." - -"I won't," the executive officer promised. - -"Good. You're not going to make any further trouble for us, are you, -Lieutenant?" - -The question seemed to call for no answer and Corriston made none. He -turned slowly and walked toward the door, despairingly aware that a man -he had rather liked had fallen into step behind him and would shoot him -dead if he so much as wavered. - -Just as he reached the door Clement spoke again, giving the executive -officer final instructions. "He must not be permitted to leave his -cell. Make sure of that, Simms. Post a permanent guard at the door. He -must be kept under constant surveillance. If he's the self-destructive -type, and I'm by no means sure he isn't, he may attempt to kill -himself." - - - - -9 - - -_May attempt to kill himself. May attempt.... May attempt.... May -attempt to kill himself._ Corriston sat up on his cot, his mouth dry, -his temples pounding. - -Had Clement implanted the suggestion in his mind deliberately, with -infinite cruelty and cunning? Was Clement really hoping that he _would_ -commit suicide? If he took his own life Clement would stand to gain a -great deal. - -But could Clement be that much of a scoundrel? Was he, in fact, a -scoundrel at all? - -Corriston knew that he could not afford to succumb to panic. Only by -staying calm, by trying to reason it out logically, could he hope to -get anywhere. Not at the truth, perhaps, but anywhere at all. - -Start off with a supposition: The commander was everything that he -pretended to be, an honest man with immense responsibilities which he -could not delegate to anyone else. A forthright, hot-tempered, but -completely sincere man. A little secretive, yes, but only because he -took his responsibilities so seriously. - -Start off by assuming that Clement was that kind of a man. What -would he stand to gain if Corriston killed himself? The removal of -one responsibility, at the very least. It was bad for morale if an -officer had hallucinations that vitally concerned the Station itself. -But a hallucination about the wealthiest girl on Earth wasn't just -run-of-the-mill. It could not only disturb every officer and enlisted -man on the Station; it could have political repercussions on Earth. - -Clement was already in trouble because of the freighter. The chances -were a Congressional Investigating Committee would be coming out. -They'd be sure to hear about Corriston. His story would be all over the -Station, on everyone's lips. - -If Corriston took his own life the commander would be spared all that. -He'd have nothing to answer for. The entire affair could be hushed up. -Or could it? - -Wait a minute, better give the whole problem another twirl. Even if -the Commander was a completely honest man, he wouldn't stand to gain -too much. He might even find himself in more serious trouble. And look -at it in another way: It was hard to believe that a hallucination -concerning Helen Ramsey could be much more than a gadfly irritation. -If the full truth came out, Clement could clear himself of all blame. -Would a man of integrity suggest that a fellow-officer take his own -life solely to remove a gadfly irritation? Or _any_ irritation, for -that matter? - -It was inconceivable on the face of it. The first supposition was a -contradiction in terms. It did not remain valid under close scrutiny -and therefore it had to be rejected. - -Supposition number two: Clement was in all respects the exact opposite -of an honest man. Clement had something dark and damaging to conceal, -was in more serious trouble than he'd allowed anyone to suspect. -Clement had some reason for not wanting the truth about Ramsey's -daughter to come out. - -What would he stand to gain if Corriston took himself out of the world? -Unfortunately there were wide areas where any kind of speculation had -to penetrate an almost absolute vacuum to get anywhere at all. - -The situation on Mars? Was there some as yet undemonstratable link -between Ramsey's uranium holdings and the Station itself? Was Clement -involved with Ramsey in some way? And was Ramsey's daughter a vital -link in the chain? - -Had the accident to the freighter put an additional strain on the -chain, a strain so great that Clement had been forced to take -immediate, drastic action to protect himself? - -Corriston tried to remember exactly what the Commander had said over -the speaking tube. He had tried to listen intently, but he had been -too agitated to make much sense out of the few brief sentences which -he had overheard. Clement had been speaking in anger and not too -coherently, and it had been a one-way conversation, with the replying -voice completely silent, or, at the very least, inaudible. But one -thing about the conversation _had_ made a strong impression on him. -Clement had not sounded like an honest man with nothing to conceal. On -the contrary, he had sounded like a worried and guilty man. - -Corriston shut his eyes and relaxed for a moment on his cot. It was -an uneasy, tormenting kind of relaxation, because another thought had -occurred to him. - -What if Clement had not deliberately tried to plant a suicide -suggestion in his mind at all? What if he had simply spoken with the -malice of a not too kindly man appalled and enraged by a space-shock -victim who had not only lied to him, but had given every evidence of -being dangerously difficult to control. - -It certainly made sense. There was nothing in the cell which might have -enabled Corriston to take his own life, even had he been so inclined. -Would not Clement have taken care to introduce into the cell some -convenient, readily available weapon--a steel file, perhaps or even a -small spool of wire? - -A cold dream had begun to take possession of Corriston. Was it true -then, could it possibly be true? Was he hallucinating? He had seen -Helen Ramsey go into a ladies' lounge and disappear. He had seen her -a second time, and she had worn a mask. The mask was so strange that -it would have made four men out of five question their own sanity. But -he had knelt beside her and lifted her into his arms. He had felt the -pulse at her wrist. Well? If after that she had disappeared again, was -it not more of a black mark against him than if he had failed to touch -her at all? - -All hallucinations seem real to the insane. The realer they seem the -more likely they are to be inescapably damning. - -Could a warped mind hope to escape from such a dilemma? Was there any -possible way of making sure? No, not if he had actually cracked up. But -supposing he hadn't. Suppose he had just passed for an instant over the -borderline, as a result of strain, of abnormal circumstances, and was -now completely rational again. In that case, proof would help. Proof -could convince him that at least a part of what had happened had been -real, that he had not been hallucinating continuously for days. - -If he could prove conclusively that he had not been hallucinating when -he had climbed through the grate, Helen Ramsey's presence beyond the -grate would be pretty well established. Even an insane man does not -abandon all logic when he performs a complicated act. He is not likely -to ascend a ten foot wall and climb through a grate in pursuit of a -complete illusion. - -Oh, it _could_ happen.... Possibly it had happened many times in -hospitals for the incurably insane. But somehow he could not believe -that it had happened in his case. Right at this moment he was certainly -not in an abnormal state of mind. How could he be when he was able to -think so logically and consistently? - -Being sane now, or at least having the firm conviction that he was -sane, would enable him to retrace what had happened step by step. What -he were to retrace it in reality ... until he came to the grate? If -the grate had been ripped out, the torment and uncertainty in his mind -would vanish. He would be free then to move against Clement, to unmask -and expose him for the scoundrel he was. - -Free? The very thought was a mockery. He was free for twenty feet in -either direction, free to shout and summon the guard. But beyond -that.... - -Corriston sat up straight. Free to summon the guard. Free to summon a -man he had dropped to the floor with two quick, decisive and totally -unexpected blows. But if he did summon the guard, what then? Could -he be doubled up with cramps--the old prisoners' dodge? "Get me to a -doctor. I think I'm dying." - -Hell no, not that. It was mildewed even on the face of it. The guard -wouldn't be that much of a fool. He'd whip out a gun, and slash -downward with it at the first suspicious move on the part of a man he -hated. - -Was there any other way? Perhaps there was ... a quite simple way. Why -couldn't he simply ask the guard to step into the cell and request -permission to talk to him? He would plead urgency, but do it very -casually, arouse the man's curiosity without antagonizing him too -much. No need to be crafty, await some unlikely opportunity, or -anything of the sort. - -Simply overpower the man--straight off, without any fuss. - -It had happened before, but that very fact would make the guard -contemptuous, more than ever convinced that the first time he hadn't -really been taken by surprise at all. His pride would make him want -to believe that. He was the kind of man who could rationalize a -humiliating defeat and blot it completely from his memory. - -It not only worked, it worked better than he could have dared hope. -When he spoke a few words through the door, the guard became instantly -curious. He unlocked the cell and came in, his eyes narrowed in -anger ... anger, but not suspicion. His gun remained on his hip as he -walked up to Corriston and stood directly facing him, well within -grappling range. - -"Well, what do you want to talk to me about?" he demanded. "Better make -it brief. I'm not supposed to talk to you at all." - -"I'm sorry to hear that," Corriston said. "You've got no idea how -depressing it is to be locked up in a narrow cell with absolutely no -one to talk to." - -"You don't like it, eh? Well, you brought it on yourself." - -Corriston caught the man about the waist and brought his right fist -down three times on his curving back. Each blow was a powerful one, -slanting downward toward the kidney. - -Then Corriston hit the guard directly in the small of the back, with -an even more punishing blow. The cumulative effect was instantaneous. -The guard collapsed and sank down like a suddenly deflated balloon, the -breath whistling from between his teeth. - -Corriston watched him sink to the floor and straighten out. Forewarned -as he was, he was still appalled by the almost instant, shocking change -in the man's expression. For the second time the guard's features began -to come apart. The entire upper portion of his face seemed to sink -inward and broaden out, and the flowing began, the incredible refusal -of his forehead and nose to remain in close proximity to his mouth. - -One eye closed completely; the other remained open in a wide and almost -pupilless stare. The chin receded and the lips became a puckered gray -orifice that looked like some monstrous fungus growth sprouting from -the middle of a gargoyle face. The individual features became paler and -paler as they spread, and suddenly there seemed to be no color left in -the face at all. It had turned completely waxen. - -It was a horrifying thing to watch. - -Corriston knelt, opened the man's shirt and stared intently at the -exposed throat, something he had not done the first time in the -cafeteria. The first time he had simply knelt and searched under the -shirt with his hand for a heartbeat which had surprised him by its -steadiness. He was quite sure now that the heart was beating firmly and -steadily. - -Even the peculiar appearance of the throat did not alarm him. But it -most certainly did interest him. Far down on the Security Guard's -throat, just above his breastbone, were a row of small hooks partly -embedded in his flesh. The hooks were very tiny indeed, and their -brightness was obscured by a thin film of sweat. Corriston removed the -moisture with a quick flick of his thumb and continued to stare, as if -he could not quite believe his eyes. - -Finally he wedged his fingers under the base of the mask, and ripped it -from the guard's face. - -Under the mask, the face had a perfectly natural look. The features -were relaxed and vacuous, but there was no flowing, no unnatural -distortion at all. And it was quite a different face--the face of a -man who had worn a disguise and was now so completely a stranger to -Corriston that he might just as well have been any one of the Station's -thirty-seven Security Guards. - -Corriston could see where the hook attachments had gone into the -flesh in at least thirty places on the man's face: on his brow, his -cheekbones, on both sides of his face clear down to the base of his -neck. The tiny punctures made by the hooks were faintly rimmed with -blood, perhaps because Corriston had torn the mask away too abruptly. -Undoubtedly the skin had been anaesthetized, the hooks inserted -skillfully by someone familiar with just what should be done to prevent -scarring. - -He hoped that the guard would not carry tiny scars on his face for the -rest of his natural life. He arose and examined the mask. He had a -complete false face. - -The thing was ingenious beyond belief. It was no mere Halloween -assemblage of papier-maché flimflammery, but an elaborate and flexible -mask of very thin plastic, or possibly metal. A prosthetic mask--if one -could use that term in connection with a mask. It was certainly more -complex in structure than any prosthetic leg or arm he had ever seen on -a handicapped man, or would ever be likely to see. - -He had a pretty good idea as to how it worked. A general idea. -Apparently when the hooks were attached to the muscular structure of -the human face underneath, every aspect of the wearer's face would be -instantly controlled and altered to conform to the configuration of -the false face. In that sense the mask could be said to actually mold -itself to the wearer's face and transform it into a completely new and -different face. - -And yet, in some subtle way, the emotions felt by the owner of the -real face would be conveyed to the mask, so that it would express with -different features very much the same kinds of emotion. - -Ingenious was scarcely the word for it. It was a miracle of -technological science, almost beyond belief. But he could not doubt -the reality of what he saw, for he held the evidence in his hand. No -hallucination could possibly be _that_ real. - -The way the mask's surface coloration could change when the wearer's -emotions changed was perhaps the most amazing miracle of all. He had -seen the guard's color come and go, had watched him redden with anger -and then grow pale. - -It could only mean that there was some mechanically symbiotic, -emotion-sensitive electronic coating or skin surface, or series of -tubes on the inner surface of the mask, which could simulate actual -blood flow much like a network of tiny heat regulators. This network -would be so responsive to the slightest change in body temperature -that the mask would alter its color the instant the wearer experienced -fright or grew uncontrollably angry. What made it seem logical and -even likely was the fact that caloric changes do occur in just such a -fashion in the human body with every shift from anger to grief or from -pain to shock. - -There was nothing simple about the inner surface of the mask. It was a -maze of complicated gadgetry concentrated in less than eight inches of -space, perhaps thirty or forty separate mechanisms in all, some as tiny -as the head of a pin, and others about one inch in width. - -When the wearer became unconscious, the mask seemingly lost its -integrity. The gadgets either stopped functioning or ceased to function -properly and the false face became a dissolving, hideous caricature; -that bore little or no resemblance to the human countenance in repose, -or even to the human countenance convulsed with sudden shock. - -How incredibly blind he had been in failing to suspect the existence -of a mask when the guard's face had grown unnatural and ghastly in the -cafeteria. He had taken it for granted that it was the man himself who -had changed. - -Fortunately he was spared now from making the same mistake twice, and -he took full advantage of the fact. He knelt again and began the by no -means easy task of removing the uniform. He had to lift him up and turn -him over twice and each time the man groaned and stirred a little. He -seemed on the verge of coming to, but Corriston shut his mind to the -possibility until the last of the man's garments had been tossed in a -pile on the floor. - -He quickly took off his own uniform then, and carefully and -methodically arrayed himself as a guard, taking care to leave the coat -unbuttoned at the throat and even going so far as to draw on the heavy -woolen socks and attach to his wrist the guard's metal identification -disk. - -An audacious thought occurred to him, but he dismissed it at once. He -could not attach the mask to his own face. It would have required the -administrations of an expert, or, at the very least, someone familiar -with the thing who knew exactly how it was supposed to be hooked into -place. He had no way of knowing and he recoiled instinctively from the -thought of hooks, however tiny, marring the skin on his face. - -No, he'd have to get along without the mask. No one on the lower levels -knew him by sight, with the one ugly exception of a killer he'd never -seen clearly enough to recognize in return. And in the guard's uniform -he might even succeed in deceiving the killer if he moved quickly -enough to give the man only a brief glimpse of him as he crossed the -wide-view promenade. - - - - -10 - - -Corriston stared down at the still unconscious guard, lying stretched -out unclothed on the floor of the cell, then he turned, patting the -guard's gun which now nestled in its transferred holster on his -angular, bony hip. - -Well, there were perhaps even worse ways of ending up, and it was -certainly a destiny almost universally shared. - -He walked out through the open door of the cell without a backward -glance. - -He had changed his plans completely now. The complicated structure of -the mask between his hands had so completely reassured him as to his -complete sanity, that he was no longer under a compulsion to return to -the Selector Compartment for additional proof. - -All of the pieces were coming together and melting into a pattern that -remained obscure only because there was still so much about it that he -did not understand. He knew there was a killer loose on the Station, -the same one who had been loose on the ship that had taken him to the -Station. He knew about a poisoned barb that had killed one man and had -barely missed killing Corriston himself. - -Dismiss the killer for the moment. There was Helen Ramsey, the -wealthiest girl on Earth. Think about Ramsey himself and what his -wealth had done to Mars. Think about the colonists on Mars, men who -had endured unimaginable hardships and privation to stake out uranium -claims which Ramsey did not want them to have. Think about the -freighter that had gone out of control. - -Think about Clement. Think very _hard_ about Clement. The tragedy had -shaken him, had given him the look of a very guilty man. He had not -wanted it to happen. He had been alarmed, appalled. Yes, think about -Clement--that very secretive man. - -The killer? You can't get rid of him, can you? He keeps coming back -into your mind. The killer had not tried to spare Helen Ramsey. He had -killed her bodyguard and ripped a mask from her face. No attempt at -protection there. But Clement could not have known about that. He had -evidently been searching for Helen Ramsey himself. The news that she -had been found had startled him, had given him a visible jolt. - -Corriston did not think that the pattern would dissolve. A few of its -features were becoming too clear now, the implications too inescapable. -There was something going on that was ugly at the core of it, and the -coming of the killer had simply brought it out into the open. Not too -much into the open as yet perhaps, but the handwriting on the wall had -at least become almost readable. Perhaps the accident to the freighter -had also helped to bring it into the open. In some obscure way -everything seemed to dovetail: Ramsey; the situation on Mars; Clement -and the freighter; a twice disappearing Helen Ramsey; and an accusation -of space-shock which was completely false and unjustified. Each seemed -to hover just above the center of a very definite pattern. - -And so did the masks! The masks in particular. Think, think hard about -the masks and what the very existence of such masks on the Station -implied. - -The masks could only have been designed to cover the darkest deceit, to -cover the most terrifying treachery. - -How many officers and enlisted men on the Station were wearing masks? -How many? And why? Was _every_ officer on the Station wearing one? If -the masks were thought necessary, if their employment had been made -mandatory, there could be only one explanation. - -Every officer and every enlisted man was masquerading. The Station was -officered and manned by--a word he'd never liked from a dictionary of -obsolete American slang came unbidden into his mind--_Phonies!_ - -The thought staggered him. For a moment he rejected it as -inconceivable, outside the bounds of reason. But it remained on the -perimeter of his consciousness and would not be dislodged. It came back -and set itself down where its dominance over his mind could not be -contested. - -What else _could_ it mean? Masks have only one purpose: to enable the -wearer to avoid being recognized. - -Quite obviously the phony officers could be wearing masks for only -one reason: to conceal their real identities while they manned the -Stations, carrying on the tasks of the men they had displaced. - -Carrying on the tasks of the rightful officers, but with a difference. -And that difference would almost certainly be criminal activity on a -wide and daring scale. - -The only question remaining to be answered was how high did that -activity ascend? Did it ascend to the very top, to Commander Clement -himself? - -Fortunately, the violence of space is a controlled violence, and -determined men can slip through it with tools and building materials. -They can base themselves on zero-gravity construction rafts and take -refuge in pressurized crevices, go floating along steel girders five -hundred feet in length until there has been assembled the greatest -of all miracles--a manned Space Station a thousand feet in diameter -encircling Earth at a distance of fifteen hundred miles. - -The Station had not been built in space, it had been built on Earth -section by section. However, the final task of putting it together had -been left to the floating men in their fishbowl helmets, the suicide -brigade with their incredible vacuum equipment and remote control -welding arms. - -Fifty-seven sections had been built on Earth over a period of five -years, thirty-four in the Eastern United States, the rest in scattered -localities from Chicago to the Gold Coast. They had all been sent up -by step rockets into the same narrow orbit around Earth. They were -fifty-seven sections "crash landing" in a total vacuum, weightless and -yet with sufficient mass and inertia to keep them in close proximity -until the great task could get under way. - -The assembled Station was cone-shaped, and it had been a colossal -undertaking to keep it from developing stress defects over a third of -its bulk during the early constructional stages. Under the guidance of -experts, the problem had been solved, but at a tragic price. - -Assembling the Station had cost the lives of fifty-three men, for -there is no easy way to bring together, join, seal and make safe -tons of metal and plastic, intricate machinery and equipment, plus a -thousand-and-one small, incidental contrivances fifteen hundred miles -above the emergency-alert systems and hospital facilities of Earth. - -Some of the men who had lost their lives had been blown out of -transport rocket tubes by mistake. Some had missed their footing too -close to a welding operation that had been halted too late. Some had -floated into capsules full of nitric oxygen gas under high pressure -and had failed to veer away in time. Still others had tugged too -strenuously at heavy girders and the slow, but crushing inertia of an -enormous, backward-swinging beam in free fall had ripped their space -suits asunder and fractured their spines. - -There were five thousand ways of dying in space. But the sacrifice, the -terror, the tragic toll seemed immeasurably remote now, for the roar of -the incoming and outgoing ships made the Station a gigantic reality so -completely in the present that it seemed to have no past. - -Spinning always on its axis, substituting centrifugal force for -the gravity tug of Earth, the Station was a complete world, a -self-contained macrocosm so immense that the magnetic-shod mechanics -who inspected it in relays, the passenger-carrying shuttle rockets from -Earth that came and went, and even the thousand-foot ships that berthed -for re-fueling and clearance seemed hardly to encroach at all on its -vast central bulk. - -And yet, it was something quite apart from the Station's bigness which -came under worldwide scrutiny when the freighter crashed and was -splintered into fragments, channeling a fiery crater in the earth and -causing the most disastrous accidental death toll in United States -history. - -The news was flashed to the four corners of the earth, and almost -simultaneously a flight of United States military jets took off from -the Lake Superior airport to explore the wreckage. - -The first message from the flight commander, Lieutenant Colonel -Hackett, came five hours later. It was tense, grim and it minced no -words. "Wreckage radioactive. Main cargo uranium in a rough ore state. -Explosion and subsequent intense radioactivity apparently caused by an -auxiliary cargo of highly unstable uranium isotopes. If the freighter -had berthed at the Station the dangerous character of its cargo could -not have escaped detection. We have every reason to believe that it -_intended_ to berth at the Station. Its signals to the Station, before -some undeterminable shipboard accident sent it out of control, confirm -this. We must therefore assume complicity of a double nature: by the -freighter's commanding officer, Captain James Summerfield, and by -someone in a position of high command on the Station." - -After that, there was no silencing the slow, relentless events on Earth. - -A week after the tragedy, a U. S. Marine corporal stationed at Port -Forrestal, Wisconsin, put through a late afternoon phono-view call to -his wife. His face on the screen was haggard with strain, and he seemed -not to want to meet his wife's gaze. - -"We've been ordered out into space," he said. - -"You mean they're sending you out to take over the Station?" - -"They're sending out five thousand United States Marines," the corporal -said. "We all knew it was coming. We expected it when that Governmental -Investigating Committee was turned back." - -"But it doesn't make sense. I can't understand it. Why should the -Commander of the Station refuse to permit a Governmental Investigating -Committee to land?" - -"We don't know. He must have something to conceal, and you can be -pretty sure it's an ugly something. When that freighter disaster got -into every daily press conference of the high brass I knew this was -coming. I felt it in my bones." - -"But what will happen if the Commander refuses to let even the Marines -land? What will happen then?" - -"We may have to open fire on the Station," the corporal said. "If the -Station is in criminal hands we'll have no alternative." - -"You talk as if you were in command." - -"I guess every soldier talks like that when his life is in jeopardy. -But I'm glad I'm not a five-star general. If I had to make a decision -like that--" - - * * * * * - -But it wasn't a general who made the crucial decision. It was Admiral -John Hayes, Commander of the Eighth Spatial Naval Division, acting on -behalf of fifty-seven nations. - -He stood in the bridge room of a United States naval cruiser of massive -tonnage, staring out through a wide-view observation port at the -Station's glimmering immensity. The cruiser and the Station were moving -at almost the same speed, fifteen thousand miles an hour. But now the -cruiser was moving just a little faster than the Station, and Admiral -Hayes was growing impatient. - -Maneuvering into an orbital position almost directly abreast of the -Station had been difficult. Commander Hayes' nerves were badly frayed; -and he was not a man who could endure too much frustration. He had -signaled the Station twice and received no reply. During that time, -both the Station and the Cruiser had completely encircled the Earth at -an interval of just a little under two hours. - -He turned suddenly from the viewport, his lips set in tight lines. He -stared for an instant in silence at the young officer at his side, his -mind groping for an argument which would completely justify what he had -already decided he must do. - -But Lieutenant Commander Kenneth Archer spoke first, saying quietly: -"You have no choice, sir." - -Hayes' features relaxed a little. It was good to know that he had -support from a man whose judgment he respected. For an instant the -awful aloneness which went with supreme command weighed less heavily -upon him. - -"It's absolute defiance, open rebellion," Hayes said. "I'm forced -to assume that the Station is in criminal hands. We'll never know, -probably, just _what_ happened on board that freighter. But we do know -that accidents occur. For every thirty ships that berth securely, one -meets with some kind of navigational mishap. The damage isn't always -irreparable. More often than not, in fact, it's quite minor. Usually -it means only a delay in berthing, a navigational shift, a circling -back for another try. But apparently that freighter really _had_ it. -So it gave the show away. Commander Clement must be in league, hand in -glove, with whoever is interested in smuggling unauthorized uranium -shipments through to Earth for his own personal profit. And to hasten -his immediate profit that someone apparently found it to his advantage -to trigger a little of the shipment into highly fissionable material on -Mars." - -"You know as well as I do who the someone is, sir," Archer said. - -"I guess we both know. But right now my only concern is with the -Station. If they ignore my third order to stand by for boarding I'll -have to open fire. The Station's stolen property just as long as it -remains in criminal hands. You can't get a desperate criminal to -surrender your property unless you convince him his own life is in -danger. I've got to try my best to convince Commander Clement I mean -business without destroying the Station." - -"You'll damage it to some extent, sir. How bad do you think it will be?" - -"I don't know. I don't intend to launch an atomic warhead. But I can't -stop short of that if he stays stubborn. I've no way of knowing what -his breaking point will be. But I do know that if he keeps control of -the Station he'll be in a position to wipe out New York or London." - -"But you'll make your intentions unmistakably clear before you open -fire, sir?" - -"Yes," Hayes said, wearily. "Yes ... of course I will." - - - - -11 - - -Corriston took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So far luck had -favored him. Now he felt as though he were walking through a deadly -jungle where all the animals had suddenly turned friendly. The teeth -they bared at him were smiling. The grins were their masks. But the -commander didn't pretend at all ... whoever the commander really was! - -And then that single question began to gnaw at Corriston like some rat -feeding on his flesh: Where was the real Clement now? Was he alive? Was -he accessible? Or was he dead? - -Corriston's mental processes were now governed by the most evanescent -of impressions: the depth of the shadows on both sides of the corridor; -his own shadow lengthening before him; the drone of machinery deep -within the Station; the muffled beating of his own heart. Suddenly he -was at the end of the corridor and approaching the main control room, -his face as grim as death. - -Violence he had determined upon, but it would be a very brief, a very -effective kind of violence. It takes only a second to rip a mask from a -man's face. - -Something was happening just outside the main control room door. The -three executive officers guarding the door had moved eight or ten paces -down the corridor, and the door itself was standing ajar. The executive -officers had their backs turned to Corriston and were making no attempt -to conceal their agitation. They were very pale, at least, one of them -was. Two had their backs completely turned, but Corriston caught a -brief glimpse of the third man's profile, and it seemed completely -drained of color, as if the mask had stopped mirroring emotion -artificially and had allowed the wearer's actual pallor to seep through. - -Corriston glided quickly to the door, passed through it and shut it -very quietly behind him. - -The commander had his back turned too. He was standing before the -viewport, staring out into space. - -But the commander did seem dazed, did seem stunned. Corriston could -tell by his posture, by the way he held his shoulders, by the utter -rigidity of his neck. - -Then he saw it, the long cylindrical hull touched by a pale glimmer of -starlight, the circular, glowing ports, the massive, atomic-projectile -launching turrets at its base. He saw it through the viewport, saw it -past the commander's stiffening shoulders--an American war cruiser of -formidable tonnage and armed with sufficient fire power to shatter a -small moon. - -All right, let the Big Dark contain it for a moment, poised out there, -ready for any contingency. Right at the moment a scoundrel must be -unmasked in a very stark way. Whatever trouble he had brought upon -himself, he must be made to face it now without the mask. - -Corriston unholstered his gun and walked toward the commander across -the deck. He came up behind him and thrust the gun into the small of -his back. - -"Turn around," he ordered. "Don't make any other move. Just turn slowly -and face me. I want to take a good look at your face." - -If the commander was startled, he didn't show it. Perhaps the -war cruiser had dealt him such a crushing blow that he was no -longer capable of experiencing shock. Or his control may have been -extraordinary. Corriston had no way of knowing and it didn't concern -him too much. - -He was chiefly interested in the commander's eyes. He had never before -seen eyes quite so piercing in their stare or narrowed in quite such an -ugly way. - -The commander spoke almost instantly and his voice had a steel-cold -rasp. "Well?" he said. - -Just a few words--just the shortest possible question he could have -asked. - -Corriston said: "You're wearing a mask, aren't you, commander?" - -The impostor's expression did not change, but his hand went -instinctively to his throat. - -"Remove your tie and unbutton your collar," Corriston said. - -The man made another quick gesture with his hand in the direction of -his throat. But it seemed involuntary, protective, for he did not touch -his collar. - -Corriston shifted his weapon a little, moving the barrel upward until -it pressed very firmly against the commander's breastbone. He reached -out and unbuttoned the commander's collar with his free hand, very -quickly and expertly. - -He was staring at the tiny hooks at the base of the mask when something -happened which made him regret that he had not followed his original -intention of instantly ripping the mask from the man's face. - -The door opened and the three executive officers came into the control -room. For an instant they seemed neither to see nor understand the -situation. They must have seen Corriston, but the fact that he was -wearing a guard's uniform may have given them the idea that he had -every right to be there. The gun was concealed from view and the -commander was standing very quietly by the viewport and quite obviously -incapable of making any move, simply because the slightest move would -have endangered his life. - -So the executive officers went right on talking for an instant, half to -themselves and half to the commander, just as if Corriston had not been -present at all. - -"If that cruiser lands, Ramsey's goose is cooked and ours is too," a -tall officer said. "The instant that freighter crashed I knew they'd -find out quickly enough how the ships had been carrying smuggled -uranium. I knew that under pressure, half of our captains would -talk ... and the crews, too. All the government would have to do is -check and they'd find out that we're Ramsey's men, all of us. They -might even now know about the masks." - -"Why not about the masks?" another officer joined in. "Ramsey paid for -the research that went into them, didn't he? Big tycoon ... fingers in -a dozen pies. When the secret's out, and he puts them on the market, -he'll make important money out of it. But we'll be in prison with just -our own faces staring back at us from a steel wall." - -"Don't worry about that. Ramsey won't profit from the manufacture of -masks. He won't even profit from the false uranium clearance we gave -him. If that cruiser is allowed to land he'll be in prison with us." - -"Better think that over, Commander. You refused to let the Governmental -Investigating Committee land. If a single soldier sets foot on the -Station we're done for. It's not too late to do something about it. -That cruiser can only berth by overtaking us. If we change our orbit -fast and start blasting at them with our rear adjusting rockets they'll -have to keep their distance?" - -"Aren't you forgetting something? A single atomic warhead could blow -the Station apart." - -"We've got to risk that. They'll think a long time before they'll go -that far. The Station's not expendible. If we change our orbit we can -still make contact with the Mars ship that's due to berth in an hour. -We've got to get back to Mars and whatever protection Ramsey can give -us. We'll have his daughter with us. He'll be so glad to see her he'll -go out on a limb to protect us." - -"He'd go out on a limb anyway; He'd have to in order to save himself. -But sure, we'll take the girl. No harm in that. He knows she's here -and will be expecting her. He'll thank us for taking things so quickly -in hand. If that crazy lieutenant had made his story public that -cruiser would have been out there anyway--perhaps even sooner. They'd -have wanted to know on Earth why anyone would want to harm Ramsey's -daughter, something we don't know ourselves." - -Corriston decided then that he'd kept silent long enough. He returned -his gun to its holster, and walked up to the three executive officers, -completely ignoring the commander. - -He heard the commander threaten him in a low tone, heard him say words -which would have caused some men to pause in fear. But Corriston did -not turn. - -There was stunned disbelief in the eyes of the three men facing him. He -spoke quickly, knowing that he had only a moment before the commander -would see that he was seized and restrained. He had to make sure that -the three would hear him out, that the commander would not be instantly -obeyed. Perhaps he couldn't make sure, but at least he could try. - -"I'll make a bargain with you," he said. "I've done reckless things -but I'm not a complete fool. You're going to prevent that cruiser from -berthing and I won't be able to interfere. I'm just one man against -several hundred. All three of you are armed. If I started shooting I'd -get perhaps two of you--no more. Then you'd kill me. I haven't even the -advantage of surprise. I gave that up because I can't believe you're -complete fools either. - -"First, I want to see Helen Ramsey. I want you to let me talk to her. -And when the Mars' ship berths, I want to go to Mars with her. I've -something to offer in return." - -One of the officers stared at him, tightened his lips and stared -harder. "Good God!" he muttered. "Good God! A bargain. You must be out -of your mind. What could you possibly offer? If you had a gun trained -on us--" - -"A witness in your defense," Corriston said. "A witness who will stand -up in court and swear that you did try to protect Helen Ramsey, that -you saved her from a very great danger. You may think that you do not -need a witness now, but before the year is out Ramsey will be on trial -for his life. His wealth won't save him. They know too much about him -now. That freighter explosion killed too many people. The public -outcry will be too great. - -"If you stay on Mars you'll be hunted down like wild animals. They'll -get you in the end and you know it. You'll be brought back to Earth; -you'll stand trial." - -Corriston paused for the barest instant, knowing that the commander too -was listening, knowing from the absence of sound and movement behind -him that his words were being weighed. "I think you know that I would -not break my word. I'll stand up in court and defend you under oath. -I'll be speaking the simple truth. You _did_ save Helen Ramsey from a -very great danger; you probably saved her life. That is sure to weigh -in your favor with any impartial judge and jury. You won't get the -death penalty; I can promise you that." - -It was the commander who spoke first. He said, very quietly. "He's -right, of course. Completely right." - -One of the officers nodded. "There's no reason why we shouldn't let him -talk to the girl. We can decide later whether we like his offer." - -"We're going to like it," the commander said, coming around in front of -Corriston. "He has more sense than I would have given him credit for." - -"So have you, commander," Corriston said, and meant it. - -The commander's eyes were still hostile, unfriendly, but the cold rage -had gone out of them. - -"All right," he said. "Let him see the girl now. Make sure a guard is -stationed at the door. Keeping that cruiser from berthing won't be -easy. They'll keep the Station under fire with small projectiles, even -if they don't attack us with atomic warheads. They'll risk some damage -just to throw a scare into us." - -The officer next to Corriston nudged his arm. "All right," he said. -"But remember this when you talk to her. She doesn't know the truth -about us. She doesn't even know we're wearing masks. We'd like it -better if you didn't say anything about it." - -"Whether she knows it or not isn't too important," Corriston said. "I -suppose you wouldn't care to tell me what you've done with Commander -Clement and the other officers." - -"No, we wouldn't care to tell you. Anything more?" - -"I guess not," Corriston said. "Take me to her." - - - - -12 - - -He was staring at her across a shadowed room, with the pale glimmer -of a cabin viewport above her right shoulder, a very small port that -looked like a full moon glimmering high in the sky through a sea of -mist. - -Her face was very white and she was staring back at him as if he had -come suddenly out of nowhere. - -She hesitated only an instant and then walked straight toward him, -walked right up to him and touched him gently on the face. - -"I'm so glad," she said. - -She drew back then and looked at him and smiled. "I was afraid you were -in trouble because of me," she said, "some terrible kind of trouble, -and I couldn't help you at all. I kept blaming myself for everything -foolish that I had ever done, going way back to the day when I broke -my first doll, deliberately and spitefully, because I was a very -headstrong little girl." - -"I'm afraid I've always been pretty headstrong myself," Corriston said. -"But being a boy, I naturally couldn't break dolls. I just wrecked the -family's peace of mind." - -"We all go through life with a great deal of foolish luggage," she -said. "And sometimes you have an impulse to just drop everything--and -run away." - -"I can understand that," Corriston said. "But did you have to run -away quite so fast? It's hard to believe it was for anybody's good, -including your own." - -"It might have been," she said. "It might have been for my good and -then later, partly for your good. Please don't judge me too harshly -before I've had a chance to tell you exactly what happened." - -He reached out for her and kissed her even as she came into his arms. -He had expected her to be angry, to withdraw, but instead she encircled -his strong back with a surprising fierceness. When he released her, her -eyes were shining. - -"I'm glad you did that ... darling! Very glad. But we're still in -trouble." - -"I know that. But we're in love, too. And you just promised to tell me -what happened." - -"Well, I guess I just ... just regressed." - -"You what?" - -"Regressed. You know, like when I was a headstrong little brat of a -child. We all do that at times. You'll have to admit there was some -excuse for me. You weren't born in a house with a hundred rooms, with -servants always coming and going, and outside gardens with big red -and yellow flowers where you couldn't even run and hide without being -smothered, without being searched for and brought screaming and kicking -back inside. - -"You don't know what it means to know you haven't a father, only -a stern, cold, black-coated man standing away off in the darkness -somewhere and watching people bow down before him. - -"You don't know what it means to be told: 'You're Stephen Ramsey's -daughter. _Behave. Behave. Behave!_'" - -"I scarcely ever saw my father. And when I did see him he was as cold -as one of the slabs in the big mausoleum he took so much pride in, the -big family mausoleum which only a Ramsey was permitted to visit. And -yet I think he loved me in his own cold way. I think he still does." - -She fell silent for a moment and then an overpowering need to tell -Corriston more seemed to come upon her. - -"I was never allowed to see young men, not even to go for a ride in the -park. Anyone of them might be a fortune seeker, because no young man, -even if he is madly in love with a girl, can quite shut his eyes to -wealth as one additional reason for loving her. - -"So I never saw any young men. I wasn't permitted to even go to a -dance, or walk in the moonlight on a balcony. I wanted to go to dances, -wanted at least one young man to kiss me damned hard." - -"Sure you did," Corriston said. "I understand." - -"I'm going to stop right there, darling. I could tell you what it means -to be free to travel, anywhere, anywhere in the world and to see all of -the white and shining cities, and to be intoxicated by beauty, and to -know at the same time that you are not free, can never hope to be free -as other people are free." - -"And that's why you ran away." - -"Yes, darling, yes, and because that bodyguard was a complete fool. -He was just one of thirty bodyguards my father had hired to protect -me, year after year. But he was the biggest fool of all. He drank too -much and he talked too much. Finally I made up my mind that I would be -better off if I went on to Mars alone. My father had told me I could -come, the trip had been carefully planned down to the smallest detail. -I was to travel incognito. I was to keep to myself until I arrived at -the Station and no one was supposed to know I was even on the ship, not -even the captain. I'm quite sure he didn't know. I think the invitation -to his cabin was a complete fabrication. In fact, I'm sure it was. I -think Clakey--his real name was Ewers--was just drunk enough to make up -a crazy story like that to get me away from you. - -"But I didn't want to get away from you, darling. I wanted to get away -from him. I wanted to have a few days of complete freedom before I -arrived on Mars, and perhaps after that for a day in the colony before -I joined my father. I didn't care how angry he'd be when he saw me -without a bodyguard, alone, wonderfully, gloriously alone and free for -the first time in my life. I didn't want to be Helen Ramsey at all. I -wanted to be somebody else and be completely free. - -"So I went into the ladies room, darling, and I put on the strangest -kind of mask." - -"Yes," Corriston said. "I know." - -"You know about the mask?" - -"Please go on," Corriston said. "I'd rather you didn't ask me how I -know that your father can take pride in at least one constructive -achievement. The masks are extraordinary. I've seen one." - -"But how? Where? I can't believe it. I--" - -"Please," Corriston said. "It isn't too important. I made a necessary -promise that I wouldn't tell you, not immediately. I'm asking you to -trust me and go on." - -"Well, I secured one of those very unusual masks. From the -Gresham-Ramsey Laboratories, before we left Earth. I could go there -anytime I wanted to. All of the research technicians there are quite -old. One of them, Thomas Webb, is really quite handsome. I might have -fallen in love with him if he had been forty years younger. He showed -me just how to adjust the mask. But when I went into the ladies' lounge -I had more than just a mask. I had a complete thin plastic change of -clothing concealed under my dress. I didn't remove my dress, only -reversed my clothing so that the plastic dress covered the one I'd been -wearing." - -Corriston said, "It was a very courageous thing for you to do." - -"I'm glad you think so, darling. Because when I came out of the -lounge and saw Ewers killed, I wasn't courageous at all. I became -panic-stricken, terrified, beside myself with fear. I knew that my -father had many dangerous enemies. I knew that I was in immediate, -deadly danger. I _had_ to go on with the disguise then. I had to go -right on being somebody else. I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't even -tell you. I had to let you think that in some strange, bewildering way -I had gone into the lounge and disappeared. - -"I knew you wouldn't really believe that, not for a moment. But I -didn't know what you'd think. I _could_ have told you, I suppose, but -I was afraid it would only make the danger greater, might transfer -some of the danger to you. And I didn't know you'd go straight to the -captain and get yourself into trouble. There were rumors on the Station -that you'd been confined, put under guard. But they were only rumors. -I felt I had to see you, talk to you. I was half out of my mind with -anxiety. I bribed one of the guards to let me out of the quarantine -cage and went in search of you. - -"I searched everywhere, followed passageways at random, got lost in a -maze of machinery." - -"And someone followed you," Corriston said. "He followed you and tore -the mask from your face." - -She looked at him with wide, startled eyes. "How did you know?" - -"I was there," Corriston said. "You fainted and I took you into my -arms--for the very first time. You didn't know that, did you?" - -"How could I have known? If what you say is true, I--" - -Helen Ramsey did not complete what she had started to say. Had she -done so she might not have been thrown so abruptly off-balance by the -suddenly lurching deck; she would have moved closer to Corriston and -could have seized hold of his shoulders for support. - -She did not fall, but she nearly did, and the lurch sent her tottering -all the way to the opposite wall. Corriston saw her collide with the -wall and sink to her knees. At the same instant his own knees collapsed. - -He was lying sprawled out on the deck, too startled and shaken to go -immediately to her aid, when the second lurch came. It spun him about, -and then he was sliding. He couldn't seem to stop the sliding. He went -all the way to the opposite wall too. - -For a brief instant they were together again, locked in a desperate -embrace, their legs higher than their heads. Then the deck righted -itself and the bombardment began. - -It was a terrifying thing to have to listen to, and Corriston preferred -to listen to it on his feet. Slowly he arose and helped his companion -up, holding her in so tight a grip that it seemed to them that they had -been welded together and could never part. - -He was glad that he could be completely sure of one thing. It wasn't -a nuclear bombardment--not yet. The cruiser was merely shelling the -Station. When the cruiser launched an atomic warhead he'd know about -it--rather, he wouldn't know. The fact that he was still alive and -aware of what was going on told him a great deal about the nature of -the bombardment. - -"What is it?" Helen Ramsey whispered. "Do you know?" - -"We're the catspaw in a naval attack," Corriston said. "The commander -took a very great risk." - -It was incredible, but right at the moment he felt himself to be in the -scoundrel's corner. He didn't want the Station to be blown apart in the -great empty spaces between the planets any more than the commander did. - -When Corriston reached the viewport and stared out, the cruiser was -following the Station far off to the side, in an obvious effort to -outmaneuver it by maintaining a parallel rather than a directly -pursuing course. But it was not escaping the swiftly turning Station's -stern rocket jets. Blinding bursts of incandescence spiraled toward it -through the void, and once or twice scored direct hits. - -He saw the cruiser shudder throughout its length, and then draw back, -almost as if it were endowed with life and had nerves and arteries that -could be ripped apart. - -There _were_ mechanical arteries that could easily enough be ripped. -For an instant Corriston stared with a strange kind of detachment, -freed from the terrible tension and uncertainty by his absolute -absorption in the battle itself, freed from the almost mind-numbing -sense of participating in a struggle that could end in utter disaster -for Station and cruiser alike. He knew that if the cruiser maneuvered -in too close, the puffs of flame from the Station's jets could turn -into superheated gases roaring through space, destroying everything in -their path. - -The Station, too, was only a pulsebeat from fiery annihilation. And a -pulsebeat could be terrifyingly brief. But the decision had been made -and there could be no turning back. - -Aboard the cruiser the decision had certainly come from very high up. -Corriston turned the thought slowly over in his mind, still in the grip -of his strange detachment. Just what did "very high up" mean? - -It meant--it had to mean--a conflict of personalities, the -hot-headedness or stubbornness or glory-seeking that went with every -decision made by strong-willed men. - -Aboard the cruiser someone had acted. After consultation? On just an -impulse? In blind rage because the Station had ignored a warning that -had been repeated twice? - -There was no way of knowing. But on the cruiser men were dying. That -was important too. Just how reckless had the decision been? - -In space, military science has never been an exact science. Sonic -echoes alone can kill, and in a pressurized compartment blowups happen. -Jet-supports can be placed at the best of all possible angles and still -fly off into space. Compressed air shot out of pressure vents can turn -bone and flesh into soft oozing jelly. - -The cruiser was changing its course again. It had failed, in a -maneuver, twice repeated, to draw close at almost right angles to -the Station, and had taken terrible punishment from below, above and -straight ahead. - -But the cruiser was still firing. And Corriston not only saw the bursts -of flame, he felt the blasts in his eardrums, his brain and the soles -of his feet. And suddenly he saw flames darting out directly beneath -him, and knew that the Station was on fire. - -Corriston knew that at any moment he could be smashed back against -a bone-crushing wall of metal; he could be pulverized, asphyxiated, -driven mad. And the fear in him--the fear that he wouldn't be able to -control--would be a two-edged sword. - -There was no pain more ghastly than the final burst of agony that came -with a burst open nervous system. It was the most horrible way to die. -But even dying that way wouldn't be half as bad as watching the woman -he loved die. - -Almost as if aware of his thoughts, Helen spoke to him for the first -time since he had crossed to the viewport. - -"It's very strange, darling. I'm calmer now than I have ever been. I -guess it can happen if you love a man so very much that you know your -life would have no meaning if anything should happen to him. It's like -facing up squarely to the fact that you no longer have any existence -apart from him. I've done that, darling, and I'm not afraid." - -There was silence in the cabin for an instant. Then another shell -exploded, and another, and another. Corriston felt light and -dangerously dizzy. It was amazing that he had not been hurled to the -floor, still more amazing that he could have remained for so long -motionless in just one spot. - -Then, abruptly, the bombardment ceased. There was no sound at all in -the cabin, just a silence so absolute that the roaring in Corriston's -ears was like the sound made by an angry sea beating against vast stone -cliffs in a world that had ceased to exist. - -There were no longer any exploding white stars coming from the cruiser. -It was dwindling into the blackness of space, giving up the battle, -conceding defeat. It became thinner and thinner. Suddenly only the reef -remained. Where the cruiser had been there stretched only empty space. - -Corriston turned from the viewport. He crossed the cabin to the cot, -swaying a little, but only from dizziness, and sat down and drew the -girl on the cot close to him. He held her tightly, saying nothing. - - - - -13 - - -Corriston was still sitting on the cot when the door opened and the -commander and two executive officers came into the cabin. - -He was not too surprised, for it had been somehow almost impossible for -him to believe that the commander could have been killed. A scoundrel's -luck and a drunkard's luck were often very much the same thing. - -If the commander had succeeded in quickly putting out the fire he rated -a medal, he was a man for all of that. - -And apparently the commander _had_ succeeded in putting out the fire, -or he would not now be facing Corriston with a grimly urgent look on -his mask. - -Helen Ramsey was staring at him almost as if she were seeing him as he -really was for the first time. Did she know that he was wearing a mask? -There was no possible way she could know, he told himself, except by -intuition. The masks were good. Having worn one herself she ought to -know how good they were. She ought not even to suspect the commander -unless-- - -Corriston had no time to finish the thought. - -"Get up, both of you," the commander said, gesturing with his braided -right arm. "The Mars ship has just berthed. We've got to go aboard -before there's any question as to the obedience of the crew. The -captain has been taken off, but we're keeping some of the crew." - -"You--you put out the fire, Commander?" - -"Naturally. I'm not quite the incompetent you think me, Lieutenant." - -"I'm quite sure of that, Commander," Corriston said. "Do we take -anything with us?" - -"You'll get all the extras you need on Mars," the commander said. -"Stephen Ramsey isn't likely to want to see his daughter go about in -rags." - -Corriston decided that the wisest thing he could do was to take the -commander at his word in every important respect; for the moment, -at any rate. There was the little matter of a killer still at large -somewhere on the Station, and the quicker they were in space the safer -Ramsey's daughter would be. Not just in space as the Station was in -space, but much further out in the Big Dark. - -"All right, Commander," he said. "Let's get started." - -Getting started took very little time. A great thankfulness came upon -Corriston when he saw the smooth dark hull of the Mars ship looming -high above him, a thousand foot long cylinder of inky blackness against -a glimmering wilderness of stars. - -The ship was berthed securely beneath a towering network of telemetric -aerials, on a completely circular launching platform that was like a -saucer in reverse, with a contractable metal ramp leading up to the -wide-open, brightly lighted boarding port at its base. - -There were steps on the ramp, but Corriston knew that when the -structure was drawn back into the ship it would collapse like a house -of cards, folded back upon itself. - -Helen Ramsey ascended first. Corriston made certain that she would by -getting in the commander's way with a convincing show of accidental -clumsiness. He pretended to stumble as he began the ascent, to be all -hands and feet. - -The commander swore softly and Corriston was quite sure that he had -not been deceived. But there was very little that he could do about it -under the circumstances. He had to let Ramsey's daughter climb the ramp -first and she was almost at the top before Corriston started up. - -Corriston was halfway to the top, and the commander and the impatient, -tight-lipped executive officers were just starting up, when three tall -figures emerged from the darkness at the base of the ramp. - -The attack took place so quickly that it was over almost before it -started. The commander and the executive officers didn't have a chance. -One of the emerging men had a gun, and he shot the commander in the -stomach with it at almost point-blank range. - -The commander sank down, clutching at his stomach, bent nearly double. -Even from where Corriston was standing, he could see the blood -trickling down his right leg. The terrible dark wetness directly -over the wound was of course invisible, completely concealed by the -commander's tightly laced arms. - -The startled, badly frightened officers turned and tried to get away. -But they didn't get far. The man who had shot the commander picked them -off like clay pigeons, one by one, as they fled. - -His two companions did not even seem to be armed. They just stood -quietly watching the executive officers die. They died on the launching -platform and on the smooth deck beyond, two of them simply dropping in -their tracks, a third sprawling grotesquely, and the last staggering -on for a few paces. There were four executive officers, and not one -escaped. It was butchery, pure and simple, cruel, savage beyond belief. - -Helen Ramsey was already on the ship, and there was no possible way for -him to get her off. - -The thought that he was himself in the deadliest kind of danger never -even crossed his mind. - -The killer returned his gun to its holster very slowly and -deliberately, and then he took it out again. It was a very strange -gesture, when every passing second must have been of vital importance -to him, but it revealed something very unusual about the man. He -evidently liked to feel that he had completed one job and packaged it -to his entire satisfaction, before going on to another. - -It was that more than anything else which jolted Corriston into -complete awareness, and made it impossible for him to doubt the -reality, the utter horror, of what had taken place. The killer had -gestured to his companions, and he was coming up the ramp. - -He came slowly up the ramp, and for the first time Corriston saw his -face. It was not a face that he would ever forget or ever want to -forget. It was the face of the man he had grappled with in the dark and -seen once in the light. But now his features were turned away. It was -exactly the kind of face which Corriston had pictured him as having, -except that it was just a little uglier looking. The slant of the -cheekbones even crueler, harsher, the eyes more venomously narrowed, -the mouth an uglier gash. - -"All right, Lieutenant," he said, gesturing with the gun. "Go on ahead. -Go on board. We're going to need you to help pilot this ship to Mars." - - - - -14 - - -The silence in the chart room was like the hush that comes over a -desert when hurricane winds have died down, or like the stillness of a -rocky coast when waves have ceased to pound, and dangerous rocks stand -out with all of their saw-edged teeth exposed. - -It was extraordinary how, at the point of a gun, a man could think and -act almost automatically, and postpone making any decision at all. It -wasn't cowardice; Corriston was quite sure of that. He felt only anger, -deep, relentless, all-consuming. Sweat oozed in droplets from his -brow, but it was the heat and the tension which made his skin stream -with moisture. There was no immediate fear in him at all. - -He'd kept fear at bay by refusing to let his mind leap ahead. Only the -gun at his back mattered, and just why it should have mattered so much -was the only thing that puzzled him. - -It did not occur to him that what some men dread most is the fear of -dying too abruptly, without foreknowledge and with just a second's -glimpse of something cold and deadly before the final blackout. A gun -had that kind of power. - -The man with the gun had asked Corriston a great many questions, -urgently practical questions that dealt with cold statistics concerning -zero-gravity, solar radiation, space drift and the length of time it -would take to reach Mars if a single pilot took full advantage of the -automatic controls and never allowed himself to become reckless. - -Corriston had replied to the best of his ability and knowledge, and the -other had accepted his answers with a quiet grunt of satisfaction. It -was only after that, when the silence had lengthened almost unendurably -between them, that the more personal questions came. - -The killer jabbed the gun more firmly against Corriston's spine and -asked in a cold, flat voice: "Do you know who I am, Corriston? Have you -any idea?" - -Corriston stared out the viewport for a moment without replying, his -face deathly pale. "I don't know your name," he said. "Probably that's -not too important. I do know that you're a cold-blooded murderer, and -that killing gives you pleasure. I am very tired. I wish you wouldn't -question me any more." - -"Do you think you can pilot this ship to Mars, tired as you are?" - -Corriston nodded. - -The pressure of the gun barrel diminished. "I am very glad--for your -sake. I suppose I might as well tell you my name. It's Henley, Richard -Henley. We'll be seeing a lot of each other before this trip is ended, -but you'll find that I'm not a particularly talkative man. When I have -something important to say, though, I won't leave you in any doubt as -to what I want done. Right now I must warn you that I would just as -soon kill you as not." - -"You're lying," Corriston said. "If you killed me now you'd never get -to Mars. You need me and you know it." - -"Corriston." - -"Yes." - -"Don't assume too much. There are practical advantages in keeping you -alive but a wrong move on your part could outweigh them. I'd have a -fair chance of getting to Mars without your help. I know more than you -think about spatial navigation. And the automatic controls are far -from unreliable. Without them it would take at least five men to pilot -a ship this size to Mars. With their aid a single experienced pilot -should be able to accomplish it. I'm pretty sure you've had enough -officer training school to qualify as a pilot. A ship's inspection -officer has to be able to navigate a ship; I've checked on that. But -you're certainly no expert, and if you force my hand I'll take my -chance with the auto-controls and my own limited knowledge." - -"You'll be taking a chance, all right," Corriston said. "What would you -do if the observation glass started showing small pits in the hull from -a very large shower of micro-meteorites? Can the auto-controls stop -those pits from spreading? I've seen a ship stippled all over in less -than ten minutes. The meteor guards won't deflect micro-meteorites, -and you've got to alter your velocity and angle of drive and a lot of -other things fast. And what happens when your instruments start showing -light spectra peculiarities that can't be measured in angstroms? Just -a little oddity like that can force you to change your course, but the -auto-pilot won't know a thing about it. - -"And when you hit the Martian atmosphere and start firing against -the direction of motion, how much good do you think limited knowledge -will do you? Remember, nearly all of the journey will have been made -in free fall, and in free fall the auto-controls are fairly efficient. -But the instant you hit the atmosphere the slightest miscalculation in -the utilization of your fuel reserves can lead to absolute disaster. I -don't know what makes you tick, of course. You may get a distorted kind -of pleasure from thinking of yourself as a man marked for death, the -same kind of pleasure you get from killing people." - -There was silence for a moment. Then Henley drew in his breath sharply -and said: "Are you threatening me, Corriston?" - -"Just warning you," Corriston said. - -"I don't take kindly to warnings, Corriston. If you're not careful I'll -put a bullet right through you." - -"Do the men who hired you know how you operate, Henley?" - -It was a stab in the dark, but it brought a quick, enraged reply. "How -I operate is my own business. And I don't like the word 'hire.' I'd -advise you not to use it again. Ramsey's uranium steal made every miner -on Mars decide straight off that I was the right man to lead them. -They're all in back of me, but they don't control me. I take orders -from no one." - -"Maybe they wouldn't be in back of you if they knew what a scoundrel -you are," Corriston said. - -"You may think whatever you please. I don't mind your calling me a -scoundrel if it will ease your mind. Just don't use the word 'hire.'" - -"I don't see why you should object to it," Corriston went on -recklessly. "It protects you, in a way. It's a good word to hide -behind. If the colonists knew the truth about you, I don't think you'd -last very long." - -"I'll last long enough to help you dig your own grave, Corriston, -if you keep on with that line of talk. You're the real lucky one. I -missed killing you on the Station because my aim was bad. You were an -unexpected complication and you were keeping me upset. I didn't like it -at all." - -"Go ahead. I knew too much. Was that it?" - -"Partly. I didn't know how much you knew or how much you'd guessed. But -you were in a position to start a lot of high-powered stuff that could -have interfered with my plans in a dozen ways. Now I happen to need -you--to a limited extent. But I'm warning you again. Don't trade on -your luck. Don't force me to kill you, Corriston." - -"Perhaps I won't. Perhaps we can strike a compromise. As I see it, -there's no need for immediate violence. Suppose you take me just a -little more fully into your confidence. It can do you no harm now; and -there are a few things I'm still curious about." - -"All right, Corriston. What is it you'd like to know?" - -"How did you manage to stay concealed on the Station when Ramsey's -officers were in full command? You had considerable freedom of -movement, apparently, even if you had to move with caution." - -"We had everything planned in advance," Henley said. "We got to one of -Ramsey's men with bribe money the miners raised, an executive officer -named Stockton. We made it worth his while. We had a carefully worked -out plan for smuggling Helen Ramsey off the shuttle ship and keeping -her hidden until the Mars ship arrived. Stockton had everything -prepared: a concealed compartment, food, made our problem more -complicated. Stockton helped us get out of the quarantine cage and kept -right on protecting us until we no longer needed him." - -"Then you must have known about the masks. You must have known before -you arrived that Ramsey's men were in complete control of the Station." - -"Sure we knew, long before Earth found out. We know exactly what had -taken place. You'd be surprised what a few carefully placed bribes can -do. We knew that Ramsey had laid himself wide open by substituting his -own men for the Station's commanding officers. We knew exactly how -vulnerable he was." - -"I see," Corriston said. "Ramsey was so vulnerable that any determined -attack made upon him would have had a fair chance of succeeding. But -you worked out a plan for striking at him in a wholly criminal way, -through his daughter. Did the miners know that, Henley? Or did they -just give you their backing in a general way? You probably seemed to -them the kind of man who would go after Ramsey hammer and tongs." - -"Suppose we just say they knew I'd find a way to make Ramsey meet -all of our demands." Henley smiled thinly. "The details they left to -me." He paused an instant, then went on: "Right after Helen Ramsey -disappeared, I did some hard thinking. It occurred to me that she might -be wearing a mask too. So I watched all of the women in the quarantine -cage and when one of them slipped out I followed her." - -"As simple as that!" - -"It wasn't simple. The girl's disappearance on the shuttle ship had me -completely baffled at first. It wasn't until we reached the Station -that the mask possibility occurred to me." - -"We talked about that once before, remember?" - -"You were lucky then, Corriston. I tried very hard to kill you, simply -because I thought you knew more about Helen Ramsey's disappearance than -you actually did. In that dark cargo compartment, with time running out -on me, I couldn't think very clearly. Anything more you'd like to know?" - -"Yes. How many men did Ramsey succeed in substituting for the rightful -officers? How many, beside the commander?" - -"Eight, including the commander. His real name was Henry Hervet. Five -were executive officers, two were security guards. They're all dead -now." - -Corriston's mouth went dry. "Including the one who sold out and helped -you?" - -"Yes, Stockton was the first to die. He was dead before the others -tried to board this ship. I made sure of that. He was too greedy for -his own good." - -"You got back the money you gave him, I suppose." - -"Naturally. Money is of very little value to a dead man." - -Corriston had gone very pale. There was dread in his eyes when he -asked: "And the real Commander Clement? What happened to him? Where is -he now?" - -"Stockton told me that after a mask was made of his face he was -imprisoned somewhere on the Station," Henley said. "Clement and seven -others. Ramsey gave Hervet strict orders not to kill them. I don't -know where Clement is now, but I can make a pretty good guess. He has -probably been released and is in full command of the Station again." - -Henley stood very still for a moment, very straight and still, and -Corriston could feel the gun nudging the small of his back again. - -"I may as well tell you now that I'm going to have to lock you in, -Corriston," Henley said. "When I turn the key on this room your sole -responsibility will be right here with the controls. You'll have to -sleep and eat here, and I don't intend to bring you any fancy meals. -You'll hear a knock on the door three times a day. You'll get a tray -with some food on it. - -"You'll have to decide for yourself how much sleep you can afford to -take. And remember this: I'll be keeping a careful check on every -navigational move you make. Not a too accurate check, perhaps, but I'll -know enough. If you throw the ship off course I'll find out about it, -and I'll want to know why. Be ready with your answers and make sure -they carry weight. Any more questions, Corriston?" - -Corriston shook his head. "No. The quicker you get out of here the -better I'll feel." - -"All right, I'll leave you now. It's naturally to my benefit to try to -see things from your point of view. And just in case you're worrying -about Helen Ramsey--don't. Nothing is going to happen to her, provided -you stay in line. If you want me don't hesitate to buzz. That's what -the intercom is for." - -Corriston looked around once when Henley was on his way to the door. -The man hadn't turned away from him. He was backing toward the door, -his lips tight, his eyes mocking, coldly derisive. - -"Did you think I'd give you a chance to catch me with my guard down, -Corriston? If you did, you're a bigger fool than I thought you. This -gun stays with me, and it's going to be centered on you every time I -open this door. Remember that, Lieutenant." - -The journey to Mars was a long wait. It was a standing and a waiting, -with a hundred corrective power maneuvers to be checked at every hour -of the day and night. It was sleep without rest and rest without sleep, -and it was a battle against dizziness and the despair which can come to -a pilot when a panel starts flickering a red danger signal in the utter -loneliness of interplanetary space. - -The ship was never too hot, never too cold, for the temperature was -kept stable by thermostat-controlled radiation shutters and the air -was kept pure with the aid of carbon filters. But to Corriston the air -conditioning system with all of its elaborate controls seemed only to -point up and emphasize the lack of stability elsewhere, both inside and -outside the ship. - -There were so many things that could go wrong--tragically, dangerously, -fatally wrong. For no reason at all, for instance, a recently inspected -filter or gasket could go completely bad, and a "no juice" blow up -threaten. Or a magnetic guidance tape could jam and stop recording, and -the ship could deviate a hair's breadth from its prescribed path and -forget to swing completely back again. - -Eventually a correction might be made, but if you failed to correct it -in time, that one tiny deviation could spell disaster. With every day -out there were more details to check, while obstacles mounted and it -was impossible ever to quite catch up with what you had to do, and go -on with complete confidence to the next task. - -Worst of all, Corriston was denied all opportunity to see or speak to -the woman he loved. - - * * * * * - -The trip to Mars took fourteen days. And in all that time Corriston -did not once see Helen Ramsey. He saw only Henley, heard only the deep -drone of the engines, and at times, when he was close to despair, the -dull, steady beating of his own heart. - -The door to his prison would open and a tray of food would be pushed -forward into the compartment. Then the door would close quietly again, -and he would be alone. - -In some respects he was imprisoned in a way that was almost too -unbelievable for the human mind to grasp. The walls of his cell were -the constellations, the barriers to his freedom space itself. - -The chartroom was a cell too, but it had no real confining power over -him. He could walk out of the chart room simply by unlocking the -viewport and swinging it wide open. He could walk out into the larger -prison of space--and die in five seconds with his lungs on fire. - -On the thirteenth day Mars loomed out of the inscrutable darkness ahead -like some great accusing eye that had fastened itself on the ship with -a malignance all its own. It filled one-fifth of the viewport, rust-red -over most of its surface, but also pale blue in patches, a blue which -shaded off into a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to hover chiefly -like the shifting, almost hueless cloudiness of a hot summer haze. - -On the morning of the fifteenth day, the ship, decelerating under -sidethrusts from its powerful retardation rockets, cut off its engines -and, free-coasting through a landing ellipse of seventy degrees, landed -safely on Mars. - -It landed in the open desert, twenty miles from Ramsey's citadel, -and eighty-seven miles from the first Martian colony. But Corriston -received no praise at all for his navigational skill. - -Five minutes after the engines ceased to throb a blow on the head -felled him, a brutal blow from behind. - -"Tie him up," Henley said. "We're not killing him, not just yet." - -"But I don't see why--" a cold voice started to protest. - -"Damn you, Stone, I know what I'm doing. Keep your thoughts to -yourself." - - - - -15 - - -Corriston sat very straight and still in the darkness, his back against -cold metal, his eyes on the distant glow of the heating lamp. He could -see the lamp through a wide panel opening in the bulkhead directly -opposite him. Wherever his eyes fell there was the glimmer of light on -metal. But the warmth of the lamp would have left him close to freezing -had it not been supplemented by the heating units inside his heavy -clothing. - -He didn't know how he was going to free himself. His hands were -securely handcuffed and the sharp metal was biting into his flesh. -Turning and twisting about did him no good at all. - -He didn't know how he was going to free himself, but he refused to give -up hope. There had to be a way. - -You could begin on one of your captors, on a human being with a great -deal to lose or gain. You could try to penetrate his armor, sound out -his human weaknesses. Or you could set to work on the handcuffs at your -wrists, struggling in an almost hopeless attempt to draw your hands -through them in some way or get them unlocked without a key. - -He decided to try the first way. He raised his voice. "Stone?" he -called out. "Can you hear me?" - -There ensued a silence. Then Stone's voice came back loud and clear. -"Sure, I can hear you. What do you want?" - -"I'd like to talk to you," Corriston said. - -"About what?" - -"About you. What are you getting out of this? You've nothing to lose by -being frank with me. Henley would never believe anything I might say." - -"You're right about that," Stone said. "But why should I talk to you? -I'll tell you something that may surprise you. Keeping you alive was -Henley's idea. He figured we might need you. He figured that if Ramsey -wouldn't listen to us he might listen to you--a Space Station officer. -He figured we might need you to convince Ramsey we're not bluffing. -Someone who _knows_ we're not bluffing. Someone who knows we'd kill his -daughter before we gave him a third chance to make up his mind and hand -over the dough." - -"A _third_ chance? I thought--" - -"You think too much, Corriston. I'll spell it out for you. Henley is on -his way now to give Ramsey his first chance. He may succeed or he may -not. If he doesn't succeed he'll come back and take you to the fortress -with him. That will be Ramsey's second chance. He won't get a third." - -"I see," Corriston said. "But I asked you a question you didn't answer. -How much do you stand to get out of this? What is your split, your -percentage? Don't tell me; I'll guess. Henley is promising you fifteen -or twenty thousand dollars. But how much ransom do you think he'll get -from Ramsey? Two million, at least. Possibly twenty million. Does that -kind of split satisfy you, Stone? Remember, when that ransom is paid, -every law enforcement agency on Earth goes into operation. It starts -off in a quiet suite of offices, with just one owl-faced little guy -shuffling some papers. - -"It starts off that way, but in the space of one hour you're a man -marked for destruction. The military goes into action. From Earth -to Mars your photograph is televised. Ten thousand trained experts -are thrown into the operation. You've suddenly become important, an -accessory to the kidnapping of the wealthiest girl on Earth. - -"How does that set with you, Stone? They'll get you in the end. No, -I'll qualify that. They'll get you unless Ramsey gives you a split of -at least a million dollars. With a million dollars you'd have a one in -five chance of covering your tracks, of hiding out indefinitely. But -Ramsey won't give you anything like that kind of a split. You know that -as well as I do. He'll have to cover his own tracks and he'll need all -of the two million--or twenty million--for himself. Or most of it. - -"I'm not telling you anything you don't know. Your real interest lies -in preventing that kidnapping before it's too late. He's getting ready -to double-cross you, Stone. It was in the back of his mind all the -time. He's looking out only for himself." - -"I don't think so," Stone said. "My split, since you brought the matter -up, is half a million. He's demanding six million in ransom. That's -twelve times what I'm getting and what Jim Saddler is getting. But I've -no complaints. He organized and planned everything. - -"I'll be honest with you. That doesn't mean a damn thing to me. I'm no -good when it comes to taking a risk like that, but does that mean he's -better than I am? Do you think I'd string along with him if I believed -that for a moment? - -"Hell, no. I'm using him, don't you see? I'm letting him take the big -gamble, and I stay in the background ... doing practically nothing. So -if I clear a half million, what have I to complain about?" - -"Nothing, I suppose," Corriston said. - -"You're damned right. But I don't think I like the way you said that. -There's something in your voice that I don't like." - -"That's too bad," Corriston said. - -"Maybe you think I don't mean what I said. Is that it?" - -Corriston tightened his lips. He could hear Stone's footsteps coming -toward him through the darkness. They were heavy steps, advancing -slowly, with a slight shuffling sound. They paused twice and then came -on again, and the silence between pauses seemed almost crushingly thick. - -Corriston suddenly realized that he knew almost nothing about Stone. -He had taken the man pretty much for granted, a killer's accomplice -without much personality, a sullen-faced scoundrel who was good at -obeying orders and standing ready to silence anyone Henley disliked -with a well-placed kick in the head. - -But what if he did have personality after all? Suppose there were -hidden depths in him, a hidden reservoir of malice which he kept -concealed until he felt a mad impulse to start laughing or bragging or -proving to someone he disliked that he was as potentially dangerous as -Henley--perhaps even more dangerous. And suppose he decided to back -up his boasting with a quick knife thrust or a gun blast at almost -point-blank range? - -It wasn't a pleasant thought, and the flicker of a match between -Stone's cupped hands did nothing to dispel Corriston's uneasiness. The -small, bright flame brought Stone's features into sharp relief for an -instant. The lips had an ugly set to them, and the eyes were slitted, -gleaming. He was making no effort to keep his hate from showing, and -the instant the match went out he lit another. - -He seemed to be advancing slowly on purpose, as if aware that his -stealth and deliberation had begun to un-nerve Corriston. Corriston -felt himself stiffening, moving more closely back against the wall. -Breathing quickly, he told himself that he hadn't much time, that he -must be careful not to overreach himself. - -There was another moment of silence, of stillness, while the shuffling -ceased. Then Stone was very close in the darkness, his hands cupped -about a third match, a mocking smile on his lips. - -It was a blunder on his part. Before he could move again Corriston was -upon him. - -There are times when a handcuffed man is at a disadvantage in a -furiously waged and uncertain struggle, but Corriston suffered no -disadvantage. For ten minutes he had been reminding himself that a blow -along the side of the neck, just under the jaw, could paralyze and even -kill if it were delivered with sufficient force. - -A sharp, flat-of-the-hand blow could do it. But handcuffs were better, -and Corriston lashed out now with his manacled wrists upraised, so -that the handcuffs grazed Stone's neck twice lightly and then almost -splintered his jawbone with a rotor-blade violence. - -The blow not only stunned Stone, it lifted him clear of the deck. He -staggered forward and fell heavily, his breath leaving his lungs in an -agonizing sob. - -Corriston leaned back against the wall again for an instant, breathing -heavily. Then he knelt beside Stone and went through his pockets -until he found the handcuff key. It was difficult. He had to do a lot -of awkward fumbling with his fingers, and even with the key in his -possession, getting the cuffs off was far from easy. But somehow he -managed it, perhaps because he had unusually flexible fingers and knew -that if he failed, Stone would see to it that he got no second chance -this side of eternity. - -He stood very straight and still in the darkness, his eyes focused on -Stone's white face. There was no need for him to strike a match. He had -taken from Stone not only the key, but a small pocket flashlight which -Stone had apparently preferred not to use. - -There was something else he had taken from Stone--his gun. He held the -weapon now, very firmly centered on Stone, while he waited for him to -come to. - -Ordinarily he wouldn't have cared if Stone had never opened his -eyes again; but now he had to wait and see. The ship was so large -that to explore it compartment by compartment until he found the one -in which Helen Ramsey was being held prisoner would be dangerously -time-consuming. So, if Stone recovered consciousness within fifteen or -twenty minutes and could tell him, so much the better. - -If not, better wait and see. He waited, shifting his gun only a little -from weariness as the minutes dragged on, wondering if he had not made -a mistake in waiting at all. - -Finally Stone stirred and groaned. Corriston bent and shook him by the -shoulders. He took firm hold of his shoulders and shook him vigorously, -feeling no pity for him at all. - -He got the truth out of him by threatening him with violence, by -threatening to kill him if he kept anything back. Stone kept nothing -back. Just remembering the blow that had felled him, loosened his -tongue. But the gun helped too, the gun wedged so closely against his -ribs under his heart that he feared that if he breathed too heavily he -would breathe his last. - -"I won't lie to you," he said desperately, pleadingly. "You haven't a -chance. There's a photoelectric alarm system outside the compartment, -and Jim Saddler is sitting just inside the door. He has a gun trained -on her. His orders are to shoot her dead if anyone so much as attempts -to get inside that door." - -"Meaning me?" - -"It means you, Lieutenant. I'm not lying; I swear it. You won't stand a -chance. Henley will be coming back in a few hours now. You'd better get -out while you're still in one piece." - -Corriston was tempted to hurl Stone back against the wall and shout at -him: "It doesn't matter whether I go out of here in one piece or dead -on a stretcher. She's the only thing I care about." - -But he caught himself just in time. Stone thought in the most -primitive imaginable terms. You couldn't go to a Stone Age man and say: -"My own skin doesn't mean a goddam thing to me. I'm in love. If she -dies I die. Can't you understand that? If she dies, my life will be -over." - -He said instead: "All right. I guess it means I've got to get help." - -"You'll never get help," Stone said, summoning from some defiant depths -within himself a little courage. "The colony is eighty-seven miles from -here. You couldn't cross the desert on foot. No one could cross it on -foot, not when the temperature drops at night to fifty below. But you'd -better not stay. He'd better head for Ramsey's citadel. That's your -only chance. It's only twenty miles from here." - -_Let him think that_, a voice within Corriston warned. Let him think -that I'll head for the citadel. Otherwise he may attempt to get word to -Ramsey somehow. I can tie him up and leave him in a state of shock, but -if he thinks I'm heading for the colony, even a state of shock may not -stop him. Saddler may come down here looking for him. Once he's freed, -if he thinks I'm heading for the Colony.... - -Corriston said: "Damn you, Stone, I ought to kill you. I ought to put a -bullet through your heart right now. I don't know why I can't. It's a -weakness in me." - -"I'd kill _you_, Corriston, if _I_ had the chance. But I'm glad you -have that kind of a weakness." - -Corriston stared at him incredulously. "You're certainly outspoken. You -were pleading for your life a moment ago--going soft, as you'd put it. -Now you're talking realistically, analyzing your own motivations and -mine." - -"I'm not quite as dumb as you think me, Corriston." - -"All right. Let's say you're not dumb. Few people are, when it comes to -a matter of life or death. That's beside the point right now. I've got -to tie you up. Where can I find some rope?" - -"It would be much simpler to lock me in a vacant compartment." - -"All right. Then I'll lock you in one of the compartments. You can -pick your own compartment. I'd advise you not to waste my time. Pick -your own compartment and I'll slide the bolt fast on the outside." - -Stone showed no disposition to put up an argument. Corriston kept the -gun pressed into the small of his back and he seemed to realize that -his life hung by a thread. - -They found a compartment that was small and dark, and into it Stone -walked at gunpoint, offering no protest, and answering the questions -Corriston put to him readily enough. - -"You'll find all the equipment you need at the end of this passageway," -Stone said. "Activate the third door on your left. Anything else you'd -like to know?" - -Corriston shook his head. He walked out of the compartment backwards, -keeping his gun trained on Stone until he was in the corridor. Then he -swung the door shut and shot the bolt home. - -He had no trouble at all in finding the equipment he knew he'd need, -thanks to Stone's generosity. Stone could afford to be generous, he -reflected bitterly. The Henley combine still held all of the trump -cards. - -He cursed the time it took him to equip himself for a near-suicidal -crossing of eighty-seven miles of Martian desert. He would travel on -foot, after nightfall, and in freezing cold. The compartment in which -he labored was a basal compartment, and set in the massive bulkhead, -against which he leaned with his bootstraps still unlaced, was an -airlock opening directly on the Martian plain. - -He collected the smaller articles first, setting them down in a row on -a long metal bench directly opposite the airlock: three compasses, each -weighing perhaps twenty ounces; a cathode ray compass; a non-magnetic -compass and a sun compass. The sun compass would perhaps prove the most -valuable until darkness fell. The sun, shining down with brilliance -from the clear Martian sky, could throw a directional kind of shadow, -enabling a man on foot to take fairly accurate bearings without the use -of sighting and viewing instruments. - -To the compasses on the bench he added five map coordinates and a -Lambert conformal projection chart. - -Food concentrates came next: four shining aluminum cubes, four inches -by four inches, which would go into the knapsack on his back. Then a -canteen, already filled with sterilized water from the ship's central -water supply system. - -Next, he took from the locker the right kind of clothing: a tubeflex -inner suit with a warm lining and a heavy outer suit equipped with heat -lamps. - -Oxygen masks next--oxy-respirators, to be exact. One to attach to the -face and one to hold in reserve as a spare. They covered only a third -of the face, but that third had everything to do with a man's staying -alive and vigorous in the thin air of Mars. When night fell, and the -cold descended, oxy-respirators were not enough. Then you had to pull -down the entire front of your helmet and stagger on with your sight -impaired, for in a cold that was almost beyond endurance, helmets had a -way of clouding over from time to time. - -The clouding over of the vision plate was not too important. It could -be constantly wiped clean. But if his brain started "clouding over" -too.... - -He dismissed the possibility from his mind. He was clothed now, fully -clothed, and ready to depart. - -He started moving toward the airlock, feeling and looking like a giant -beetle of the tropics, feeling awkward, cumbersome and insecure. His -boots were weighted, and the bulge of the oxygen tank on his shoulder -made him look almost hunchbacked in the cold light glimmer that turned -the bulkhead into a mirroring surface as he advanced. - -He manipulated the airlock and it opened with a slow, steady droning -and then he was passing through it, still moving awkwardly.... - -At last! He was out on the Martian desert in bright sunlight, staring -up at the clear blue sky. - -The first few miles were not difficult at all. He walked away from -the ship with his shoulders held straight, the cumbersome feeling -dissipated by the lightness of his stride in the incredibly light -gravity. - -The air pressure about him was less than seventy millimeters of -mercury. The thought sprouted in his mind that he was the god Mercury -striding along with winged shoes, and for the first five miles his -weighted boots did seem to develop wings. - -Then the temperature began slowly to drop. The sun sank lower. Its -brightness diminished, and his cheeks began to tingle with the cold. - -There was a slight wind blowing over the desert, raising dust flurries -on the summits of the tallest dunes, causing the gray patches of crust -lichen, which were scattered widely over the plain, to change color as -their threadlike surfaces were ruffled by the breeze. - -Far in the distance he could see a "canal," one of those strange -blue-green declivities in the terrain which looked from the air like an -actual waterway, and had deceived--or bewildered--three generations of -men. - -Despite the increasing cold, Corriston did not moderate his stride. -He let his thoughts dwell on the most imaginative of the canal -speculations. It had been proven completely false, but its originality -fascinated him. Long ago, the theory held, there had been volcanic -activity on Mars. Great faults or fissures had opened up in the -planet's crust, and when the coming of spring thawed the polar ice -caps, curtains of fog swirled equatorward, filling those natural -crevices with swirling rivers of mist. - -Corriston stopped walking for a moment, shifting the weight of his -equipment slightly, easing a too heavy drag on his right shoulder. He -made sure that the thin flexible tube which connected his oxygen mask -with the small tank on his back was securely clipped into place at both -ends, tested the harness buckle which supported supplies which were as -necessary to him as breathing, and took a turn up and down the sand, -stamping, shaking himself, to make absolutely certain that nothing -vital had been jarred loose. - -Then he was under way again, moving along at a steady pace over the -rust-red desert, the ship now lost to view far behind him, his mind -leaping ahead to the very great dangers which he was determined to face -and overcome so long as one slender thread of hope remained. - - - - -16 - - -It might have been almost any sleepy little town on Earth, picked at -random from a train window--a dust bowl town with a prairie name: -Hawk's Valley, Buzzard's Gulch, and the like. It might have been, but -it wasn't. - -The buildings were thinner, of more precarious construction, and each -had been built to house three or more families. They were at unusual -angles on sloping ledges where the soil was firm enough to resist -overnight erosion from winds of hurricane force, and in many places -their prefabricated metal foundations were pierced and supported by -shafts of solid rock. - -Without modern technology at its most advanced, the town could never -have been built. Yet in the streets of the town there was a village -rudeness of construction which no pioneering effort could quite efface: -a wide main street that gleamed red in the sunlight on which three -caterpillar tractors stood stalled, their guard rails caked with -yellow mud; a pool of stagnant black water with a wooden plank thrown -haphazardly across it; a discarded fuel container upended against a -half-rusted away metal cable, and the remnants of an hydraulic actuator -overgrown with hardy lichens that had colored it yellow and ash gray. -And here and there, projecting from the tumbled sand, were spiny -cactus-like growths. - -Yet it was not too small a town. Its inhabitants numbered eight -thousand, two-thirds of them men. There were ninety-seven children. It -was not too small a town, and now, in each of the houses, a new day was -beginning. - -At least thirty men and a few women had collected about the -haggard-eyed desert straggler. Every one of them hung on his words. -Every one of these people had been ruined by Ramsey's rapacious -greed. Their past accomplishments were destroyed; their futures were -non-existent. They lived in a terrorized state, from hand-to-mouth, -indifferent now to any more wrongdoing that could be visited upon them. -The fires of their hatred for Ramsey gave them the basic energy to go -on existing. - -Out of grinding desperation they had turned to Henley, had given him -a free hand, even when most, in their heart-of-hearts, knew he was a -scoundrel. The fact was that he was the only man among them not so -cowed as to be actively enraged against Ramsey. He promised that the -mines would be given back to the people. And, having nothing, they -believed everything. - -They came from everywhere in the colony, and from every trade and -profession. Who was this man? And was he friend or foe? - -The crowd grew slowly. Despite the shouts and the sudden stir of -excitement which had greeted the speaker on his arrival, there was -no headlong rush to surround him. The colonists emerged from their -lodgings and converged calmly upon the square, some having the look -of tradesfolk concerned with a possible interruption of business, and -others seemingly intent only on what the stranger might have to say. - -It was unusually warm for so early an hour, the temperature well up -in the mid-forties, and there was no need for the heat-generating -inner garments, only for oxygen masks and heavy outdoor clothing and -the careful avoidance of too much muscular exertion in the absence of -weighted shoes. - -This is madness, Corriston told himself. I am in no condition to -convince these people, to make them understand. I should have rested -first. Three hours' sleep would have helped. I should have asked for -food. - -Corriston felt suddenly tongue-tied. Words were failing him when he -needed them most. His speech became halting and confused. He had been -talking for twenty minutes--twenty minutes at least--but suddenly he -was quite sure that he hadn't succeeded in convincing anyone that he -was speaking only the simple truth. - -He looked at the faces before him a little more intently and saw what -he had not noticed before: everyone was waiting for him to go on; -everyone seemed to be hanging on his words. - -Had he misjudged them after all? Or had he misjudged his own capacity -to be persuasive, to talk with conviction when his very life hung in -the balance? - -There could be no doubt on that score. His life did hang in the -balance. They'd make short shift of him if they thought he was on -Ramsey's side. - -"It isn't Ramsey I'm concerned about," he heard himself saying. "I'm -pleading with you to face up to the truth about yourselves. You trusted -Henley because you were desperate. You couldn't put your trust in a -weak or indecisive man. You needed a tool with a cutting edge. That I -can understand. But you picked the wrong man. Henley doesn't want to -see justice done. He doesn't want to help you at all. He wants to help -himself at your expense, to help himself in a vicious, brutal way." - -"That's a lie," someone in the crowd said. "Henley's a good man." - -Corriston freed himself from his dust-caked coat. He shrugged it off -and let it drop to the sand. Then he straightened his oxygen mask and -went on: "It's not a lie. It's the simple truth." - -He wondered why he had shrugged off his warmest garment. It was cold, -he was shivering, and it had been a ridiculous thing to do. Had he -intended it as a challenge? In a crazy, confused, subconscious way, was -he offering to fight anyone who disagreed with him. - -He suddenly realized that he was a little drunk. Not on alcohol, but on -a slight excess of oxygen. He fingered the gauge on his mask, cutting -down the tank inflow, cursing himself for his delay in doing so. - -Had he convinced anyone? He looked at the faces about him and was -astonished by their impassivity. Few of the men or women before him -seemed either angry or disturbed. They just seemed to be quietly -listening. - -Suddenly he realized that he was completely in error. They were -convinced, persuaded, almost completely on his side. Their silence was -in itself revealing, just as the hush which precedes an avalanche can -be convincing, or the stillness which precedes a storm at sea. - -They were waiting for him to go on. - -He talked for thirty more minutes and then there was a long silence, -punctuated only by the harsh breathing of a few men who seemed to -disagree. - - - - -17 - - -Corriston knew that the few who disagreed were prepared to make -trouble, but he was not prepared for the violence which ensued. - -Fights broke out in the crowd, singly and in groups. The colonists with -strong convictions took issue with the few who disagreed. And the few -who disagreed had strong convictions, too. - -Two men about the same in height were suddenly down on the ground -raining fisticuffs at each other. - -"Damn you, Reeves, I'll break your jaw. From the first minute I saw -Henley I knew he was a scoundrel." - -"Yeah, and who else but a scoundrel could hold his own with a rat like -Ramsey. We can call the turn on him if he goes too far." - -There was an explosion of cursing and Corriston could see five more men -fighting, moving backwards as they exchanged blows toward the periphery -of the crowd. - -There was nothing he could do to stop the fighting. He was close to -exhaustion, hardly able to stand. He desperately needed food and -rest--a long rest flat on his back. - -Suddenly he realized that he had victory within his grasp. Most things -worthwhile in life called for a decisive effort of will. He decided -suddenly that he couldn't just let the fighting go on. He had to take -a firm stand himself, had to convince everyone that he was prepared to -fight for his convictions. - -He moved forward into the crowd. He grabbed one doubter by the -shoulder, held fast to him for an instant, and then sent his fist -crashing into the astonished man's jaw. - -The doubter folded in complete silence. Corriston stepped back from -him and said in a voice loud enough to carry to the rim of the crowd: -"I don't care how many of you I have to take on. Every word I've said -is the truth. If you can only settle it by killing me, you may as well -start trying." - -There was a silence then. Even the sound of the breeze rustling the -garments of the colonists, stirring little flurries of sand along the -main street, seemed to become muted. Far off between the houses a clock -struck the time. It seemed very loud in the stillness. - -It amazed Corriston a little, even in his exhausted state, how -determinedly a challenge like that could be accepted at face value. -He was quite sure that he had won a victory; that nine-tenths of the -colonists were on his side. But everyone remained silent, everyone drew -back in tight-lipped silence while the issue was put to the test. - -A tall man with a lean, lantern-jawed face approached Corriston and -said: "I'm going to tell you exactly what I think. Henley isn't an easy -man to understand. He keeps his thoughts to himself and he may have -had his own special reasons for pulling the wool over your eyes. He's -looking out for our best interests; I'm sure of that. But what good -would it do me to knock you down to prove it?" - -"No good at all," Corriston said. "But try knocking me down if you want -to." - -"I'm not going to try," the lantern-jawed man said. "I think you're -lying. That's all I have to say." - -Corriston watched him disappear in the crowd and shook his head. He -felt like a man with a fly swatter in his hand. He had won a victory -and yet if he failed to swat a few flies no one would believe that he -was telling the truth. - -Finally he got his chance. A thickset, dark-browed man with a -trouble-seeking aspect came up and hurled insults at him in a markedly -offensive way. - -Corriston hit him three times. The first blow doubled him up, the -second dropped him to his knees; the third flattened him out on the -sand. - -Corriston stepped back and surveyed the crowd. Their response now was -overwhelmingly favorable. - -It wasn't a complete victory. There were still doubters, still -arguments going on, still a hatred for Ramsey that overflowed and made -a mockery of the few voices raised in his defense. - -And Corriston was glad that not too many voices were raised in Ramsey's -defense. He had not come to plead Ramsey's cause, and he wanted all of -the colonists to know that. He only asked that a truce be declared, an -end to the fierce, immediate hatreds, while a scoundrel was attacked by -men who had been lied to, cheated and betrayed. He moved still further -forward into the crowd, prepared to fight again if he had to, prepared -to back up his arguments with the simple, primitive and direct use of -his fists. - -He swayed suddenly and realized that he was at the end of his -endurance, and now would in all probability make a complete fool of -himself. He would commit the unforgivable folly of issuing a challenge -that he couldn't back up. - -He shook his head violently, trying to clear it, but his dizziness -increased. The landscape about him began to pinwheel and he saw the -streets of the colony through a wavering yellow mist. The store fronts -danced, the rusting and discarded machinery on a side street began to -move and come to life, to clatter and waltz about. - -A woman moving toward him seemed to grow in height, her oxygen mask -widening out, overspreading her face. For a moment she seemed like an -impossible ballet figure in a _danse macabre_, pivoting about on her -toes as a caterpillar tractor came rushing toward her through the thin -air of Mars. - -Then two colonists were supporting him, holding him tightly by the -elbows, refusing to let him collapse. It was outrageous, because he -_wanted_ to collapse. He wanted to sink down, to let sleep wash over -him, to forget all of his troubles in merciful oblivion. - -But the two colonists were very stubborn. They refused to let him -collapse. He only wanted to go to sleep, to forget all of his troubles, -but the two colonists were like doctors in a hospital, very stern, very -patient, and seemingly determined to keep him on his feet. - -Somehow they must have failed. They must have failed because when -he became fully conscious again he was lying between cool white -sheets, and a woman in a white nurse's uniform was bending over him. -By straining his eyes he could see two men who looked like doctors -standing just beyond her. - -The two men appeared to be discussing him, but when he struggled to -a sitting position and stared hard at them they came toward him with -reassuring smiles, and one of them said: "Take it easy, now. You're -going to be all right." - -"I ... I must have passed out," he stammered. "I was ready to pass out -before I started talking. Is this a hospital? I guess it is. I should -have come here immediately. Forty hours in the desert and I arrive -half-delirious and make a fool of myself." - -"Take it easy," one of the doctors said. "You didn't make a fool of -yourself. Quite the contrary." - -Oh, brother, he thought. They're lying to me to spare me, or something. -"I have a vague recollection of not being able to stand, of talking my -head off and then collapsing and making a complete fool of myself, of -accomplishing nothing at all. I swung hard at two or three people. I -knocked one man down, flat on his back. But that was a crazy thing to -do. It's no way to win the confidence or respect of anyone." - -"Look," one of the doctors said, taking firm hold of his shoulder -and shaking him gently. "Don't go reproaching yourself. You've got -nine-tenths of the colony behind you." - -"You mean--" - -"Sure, you convinced almost everyone. And that was a miracle in itself, -considering how close to collapse you were. You were running a high -fever. You were dehydrated. Your skin was as dry as a parched lichen. -Yet you stood there and convinced them. That's the gospel truth." - -"They've chosen you as their leader," the second doctor said. "They're -going after Henley before it's too late. They feel exactly as you -do about Ramsey's daughter. Not about Ramsey perhaps--but about the -kidnapping of a helpless girl. None of them have any liking for Henley -now." - - - - -18 - - -Corriston walked out into the central square and stood there. For a -moment no one said a word. One of the doctors was there with him. He'd -had a sandwich and coffee before leaving the hospital and his nerves -felt steady and his voice was pitched low. - -"I don't know a single one of these men, Dr. Tomlinson," he said. "I -spent a week in the colony four years ago, but I just don't see anyone -I recognize. I'm afraid you'll have to introduce me around." - -It took a full hour to really get acquainted, to plan what had to -be done, to check over the tractors, the ammunition supplies, the -equipment of each and every man. - -They had to cross eighty-seven miles of desert to a heavily guarded -cave and then move on perhaps to Ramsey's fortress. They had to be -prepared for any eventuality. - -The morale was good. Corriston could sense the grim determination in -every man, the faith in their mission, the anger. It cheered him. - -He walked around between the tractors, listening to stray bits of talk, -getting better acquainted with everyone as the minutes sped by. - -He took out his watch and looked at it and decided that time was -running short. - -Give each and every man twenty minutes, he thought. Then we get -rolling. Thirty caterpillar tractors and two hundred and ten men. And -in the ship are two men holed up--possibly three now--with all the -portable fighting equipment of a two thousand ton spaceship at their -disposal. And if Henley has returned-- - -Suddenly Corriston found himself sweating in the silence, despite the -cold, despite the hoar frost that was beginning to collect on the rim -of his oxygen mask. There was a split second of shouting from one of -the tractors and then it started up, with a coughing and spitting that -drowned out the human voices. - -All along the wide, rust-red street other tractors came to life. In the -thin air of Mars, in the pale sky, a single blue cloud hung suspended. - -It was wispy thin, incredibly thin, a hollow mockery of a cloud. But -the scene below would have been less remarkable had the sky remained -cloudless, for then Mars would have seemed completely unlike Earth and -the human drama less compelling. - -There was something tremendous in the forward march of the tractors, -in the clatter and the rising dust, the shouts of the men at the -controls and the women who ran swift-footed along the sand to urge them -to greater fortitude. The women knew that endurance would be needed, -for twenty-first century weapons of warfare could destroy a hundred -tractors and spatter the desert with blood before retaliation could -become complete and justice be fully satisfied. - -So the women did not weep or lament. They ran parallel with the -tractors, urging their men onward, stifling their own inner fears in -the greatness of the moment. - -Corriston waited for the last tractor to come abreast of him before -he leapt aboard it. There was the smell of acrid grease in the air, -a smell of burning. The mechanical parts set up a dull rumbling, and -as Corriston swung himself aboard, a voice said: "I'm Stanley Gregor. -If I had any sense I wouldn't take part in this. I came to Mars with -the second expedition. I'm sixty-two years old but somehow today I -feel young. There's no longer any doubt in my mind that Henley is a -scoundrel. Why we trusted him I don't know. I'm here to do my part in -rectifying an error." - -"Sure," Corriston said, settling down at the side of a big, -awkward-looking man with red hair. "Sure, I understand. Take it easy. -We're all in this together." - -"We've got eighty-seven miles of desert to cross. It's going to be -tough. Have you seen the fortress Ramsey built to protect himself?" - -"No," Corriston said. - -"There are twenty-five square miles of fortified -defenses--photoelectric eye installations. They spot you when you're -a half-mile away. Try to storm those installations even with a dozen -armed tractors, and you'll be pulverized into dust. Try to storm them -on foot with the most formidable of energy weapons, and you'll be -electrocuted. You'll hang suspended on barbed wire. Think that over, -Lieutenant." - -"I've thought it over," Corriston said. "We won't have to storm the -fortress unless they've taken Ramsey's daughter there, or if Ramsey -himself is in danger. And if he is in danger, he'll welcome our help. -We're going to the ship first and there are only two men on the ship." - -"But they've got plenty of ammunition, haven't they? They've got the -ship's military installations. Anyway you slice it, it's a dangerous -gamble." - -"I never thought it was anything else," Corriston said. - - - - -19 - - -Corriston woke up to the hum of human voices, the soft whisper of the -wind, the gentle stirring of sand. He awoke to coldness and brightness, -to sunlight that dazzled him with its brightness. - -Corriston remembered then. Not everything at once, but just the first -thing. There were no guideposts. That was always the first thing to -remember when you woke up from a brief, twenty-minute sleep on Mars. - -In islands scoured by trade winds and bright with blown sea spray a man -does not talk of traveling east or west, and even familiar streets are -no longer given names or marked by intersections. A man talks instead -of walking into the wind, of setting his course by the north star, -of moving straight into the teeth of the gale or huddling for shelter -beneath a high chalk cliff where all directions converge in a hollow -drumming that has neither beginning nor end. It was that way on Mars. -It would always be that way, it could never change. - -Just lie very still and listen, listen to the voices of men who are -risking their lives to help you. Listen and be grateful; listen and be -proud. - -All at once Corriston realized that an amazing discussion was going on. -They were discussing an eleven-year-old boy who had done an absolutely -crazy thing. He had followed his father into the desert by concealing -himself in one of the tractors, behind a liquid-fuel cylinder, and was -now a member of the 210 man rescue team. - -"Mars is no place for a kid. Dr. Drever ought to be ashamed of himself. -If a man has children--well, Mars is simply no place for children." - -"That's right. A boy of eleven needs companions his own age to help -him over the growingpain hurdles. He needs a backyard to play in. When -I was a kid I had a bike of my own, a bull terrier pup, a collection -of butterflies, a stamp collection and a simply amazing talent for -roughing up my clothes. - -"Mars is the worst of all possible worlds for a kid like Freddy. -We're buoyed up by the bigness and the newness and the strangeness -of everything. The mile-high granite cliffs don't really belong to a -planet smaller than Earth. But they're here and we accept them. We pit -our technical brilliance--or lack of it--against the rugged grandeur of -the mountains and the plains and we can take even the sandstorms in our -stride. But to bring a kid here--" - -"Drever is a widower. He quite naturally didn't want to put his son -in an orphanage. Besides, there are thirteen other young kids in the -Colony." - -"That doesn't excuse it. There are plenty of childless single men." - -"How many of them could step into Drever's shoes and grow to his -stature as the first really great medical specialist on Mars? You're -forgetting the hell he had to go through just to pass the preliminary -screening. It's rugged for a man of his attainments. They not only -insist that he be good; they want him to be the best." - -"That's true enough, I suppose. And now that he's here he probably -couldn't be replaced. Experience of a very special sort does things for -a man. And _to_ a man, if you like." - -"I'm simply stressing that Mars is simply not a place for a kid of -Freddy's age. When he goes roaming he gets his lungs choked with dust. -He couldn't ride a bike on Mars--if he had a bike. Worst of all, he has -no kids of his own age to play with. And now he comes on a trip like -this. Does he hope to rescue the Ramsey girl all by himself?" - -Corriston got up then. The three men who had been discussing Dr. -Drever's son stood by the smoldering embers of a burnt out campfire. -They were kindly looking men but a certain narrow-mindedness was -stamped on the faces of at least two of them. - -Corriston shrugged off his weariness and walked up to them. "Nonsense!" -he said. - -A startled look came into the eyes of the oldest, a grizzled scarecrow -of a man whose beard descended almost to his waist. He was a Martian -geologist, and a good one. - -"Eh, Lieutenant. I was just going to ask you. Shouldn't we get started?" - -"We should and we will," Corriston said. "But a good many men collapsed -from the cold this morning. If we don't arrive at that ship in force, -we may live to regret it. Where's Freddy? Have you seen him?" - -The grizzled man raised his arm and pointed: "Over there," he said. -"His coming along was just about the craziest thing I ever heard of." - -Corriston walked across the churned up sand to where Freddy sat -perched like a disconsolate gnome on a metal-rimmed food container -shaped like an old-fashioned water barrel. - -Dr. Drever's son was almost twelve, but he was small for his age and -Corriston had seen boys of nine who were much huskier looking. - -Corriston had no way of knowing that on Earth, shoulder to shoulder -with other schoolboys, Freddy had never thought of himself as -particularly small. It was only on Mars, all alone with his father and -other grownups, that he had felt even smaller than he actually was. He -had felt like a dwarf child. - -"Why did you do it, Freddy?" Corriston asked. "Your father is very -upset and worried." - -Freddy looked up quickly and just as quickly lowered his eyes again. - -"I had to come," he said. "I had to." - -"But why?" - -"I don't know." - -"I see." - -Corriston stared at him for a long moment in silence. Then he said: "I -think perhaps I understand, Freddy. Just suppose we say you succumbed -to an impulse to roam. The exploring urge can be overwhelming in a -boy of your age. It usually is. If you were on Earth right now you'd -be dreaming about exploring the headwaters of the Amazon. You'd be -dreaming about birds with bright, tropical plumage and butterflies as -big as dinner plates." - -Freddy looked up again, not quite so quickly this time. There was -wonder and admiration in his stare. "How did you know?" he gasped. - -"I guess I was pretty much like you, Freddy--once," Corriston said. - -"Gee, thanks," Freddy said. - -"Thanks for what?" - -"Thanks for understanding me, Lieutenant Corriston." - -Corriston walked out between the tractors and raised his voice so that -everyone within earshot could hear him. - -"We're starting again in ten minutes," he said. "Better have another -cup of coffee all around." - - - - -20 - - -The sand had been blowing for forty minutes. It was a flying avalanche, -a flailing mace. Even inside the tractors it set up an almost -intolerable roaring in the eardrums, and when it struck the wind-guards -head on the battered vehicles shook. For five or six seconds they would -rumble on and then come to a jolting halt. Often they would start up -again almost immediately but equally often they would remain stalled -for several minutes, and at times there were more stalled tractors than -moving ones across the entire line of advance. - -The pelting never ceased, never let up even for a moment. Minute after -minute the sand came sweeping down in red fury, tons upon tons of -it, in great circular waves from high overhead and in jet velocity -flurries close to the ground. In that assault of billions upon billions -of spinning particles the brightly colored lichens which covered the -Martian plains were uprooted, lifted high in the air, and carried for -dozens of miles, flying carpets so small they scarcely could have -supported the tiniest of elves. - -For three hours the sandstorm continued to rage in fury, and then, -abruptly, the wind died down, the last flurry subsided, and the -colonists got under way again. And just for a change a few of them -descended from the tractors and advanced on foot, keeping a little -ahead of the swaying vehicles. - -Dr. Drever, a tall, stooped man with graying temples but surprisingly -youthful eyes accelerated his stride a little and fell in with the -scarecrow geologist who was walking at Corriston's side. - -"We can't be far from the ship now," he said. "I wish there was some -way I could send Freddy back. If I thought you could spare a tractor -and one man to accompany him...." - -"Freddy will be all right," Corriston said. "You don't know what it -means to a kid like Freddy to ride through a sandstorm in the company -of grownups. He had to prove something to himself, and I think he's -done it." - -The stillness was almost unnatural now, and Corriston could see that -most of the men were becoming uneasy about it. The desert seemed too -bright and far too quiet. It was one of those mysterious, brooding -silences that are a menace to start with. You think of unsuspected -pitfalls, hidden traps. Imagination leaps ahead of reality and leaves -an insidious kind of demoralization in its wake. - -"I'm not surprised that all the animal life on Mars went underground," -the scarecrow geologist said, and it seemed a strange thing for him to -have mentioned at that moment, when the stillness was so absolute and -the thoughts of everyone should have been on the ship, which had to be -very near now. - -"Yes, and what a vicious, horrible kind of animal life it is," Drever -said, as if he too welcomed the opportunity to talk irrelevantly, -perhaps to relieve his inner tension. - -"They're a very primitive form of life, really," the geologist said. -"They look like large gray snakes, but they're actually more like -worms. Worms with sucker disks instead of mouths. When once they've' -attached themselves it's almost impossible to dislodge them. You've -seen marine worms on Earth often enough, I'm sure. They come in all -shapes, sizes and colors, but there are one or two species that look -quite a bit like lamprenes in miniature. Lamprenes are usually about -three feet in length. But some of the very old ones grow to eight feet -or longer. Their natural prey is a small running lizard--the galaka--as -you know." - -"All right," Corriston said, a little of his raw-nerve exasperation -returning. "Now I suppose you're going to tell us exactly how they kill -their prey." - -"I don't have to tell you how they kill men," Macklin said. "You know -as much about that as I do. You've been on Mars before. You've seen at -least a few of the victims. You know exactly how they come up under a -man when he's asleep, puncture his clothes and attach themselves. He -doesn't just get nipped; the lamprene can seldom be pulled off that -quickly. And when two or three of them attack you, it can be pretty -horrible. They're more than just vampires; they sting. The poison is as -deadly as aconite. It works a little slower, but almost immediately the -victim starts to degenerate, his nerves first, and, then...." - -"All right, now I've heard an expert confirm it. I'd be grateful if -you'll just shut up." - -"Lieutenant, I told you--" - -"Never mind, Doctor. I'm asking him to shut up." - -In silence they continued on, the tension between them increasing -almost intolerably, their nerves becoming more and more frayed. And -then, finally, it seemed to them that they could see the ship, and the -great cliff wall surrounding it through the slight haziness left by the -sandstorm and the vaguer haziness which distance imposes, could see the -tumbled, flat slabs of rock that radiated out from it in all directions -across the desert. - -But it was hard to be sure it was really the ship. It was perhaps only -one of the many desert mirages which were far more common on Mars than -they were on Earth. A man who has once looked at the bright, scarred -face of a cliff wall in the Martian sunlight will remember it even in -his dreams and no mirages are really necessary. He is certain to see it -a second and a third time, like an after-image so indelibly imprinted -on the retina of the human eye that its recurrence becomes inevitable. - -And yet, the running man could not have been a mirage. He was much -nearer than the ship appeared to be, and he was falling and getting -up and falling again in so frenzied a way that his movements bore the -unmistakable stamp of reality. - -Corriston came to an abrupt halt. For an instant he simply stared, -watching the distant figure fall to the sand for the fourth time and -drag himself forward over the sand, his shoulders heaving convulsively. - -For an instant Corriston could not have moved if he had wanted to. -The scarecrow and Drever were standing too close to him, so that the -shoulders of the three men formed a compact unit, and their arms were -in each other's way to such an extent that no real freedom of movement -was possible. - -Corriston had almost to disentangle himself by sheer physical effort. -Disentangle himself he finally did, turning completely about and -shouting to the colonists behind him. - -"Get to that man as quickly as possible!" he ordered. "There's no time -to be lost. Try to tear the lamprenes off him, but watch out for your -hands. Don't let them coil around you, watch out for the disks. Get -them off if you can. If you can't, bring him here. Carry him slung -between you." - -Two men left the line of march and started off across the desert, -walking very rapidly but not breaking into a run. Corriston had -forgotten to warn them that running with their weighted shoes would be -difficult, and would only delay them, and he was glad that they had -thought of it themselves. - -He turned back to the scarecrow, who was staring in white-lipped horror -at what must have seemed to him an unbelievable occurrence--a man -attacked by lamprenes when he had been talking about lamprenes only an -instant before. - -But Corriston knew that it was a common enough occurrence, not to be in -any way coincidental. No one who slept in the desert for any length of -time could hope to avoid an attack if he failed to take the necessary -precautions. And even with precautions the death toll was high; almost -as high, perhaps, as cobra fatalities in India. - -Corriston turned abruptly, his lips white. "If a man is attacked by -just one lamprene, and it's pulled off quickly, how much chance has he?" - -It was Drever who answered him. "Not much, I'm afraid. The poison gets -into the blood stream and acts quickly. You can't get it out with a -suction disk the way you sometimes can with a snake bite. It's a nerve -poison and it spreads very fast. And there's no way of neutralizing it, -no serum injection that does any good. Of course, there have been a few -recoveries." - -Corriston swung about and stared out across the desert again. The two -colonists had reached the stricken man now and were attempting to tear -the lamprene--or lamprenes--from his flesh. They were bending over him, -and it was hard to tell for a moment whether they were succeeding or -not. Then, abruptly, one of them rose and made a despairing gesture, -unmistakable even from a distance of five hundred feet. - -The next few minutes were like a nightmare that has no clear beginning -or end. They brought the man back and laid him down on the sand. The -man was Stone. - -It was Drever who got the lamprene off. He did it with an electric -torch, taking care to manipulate the jet of fire in such a way that it -scorched only the head of the creature and not Stone's exposed flesh. - -Corriston bent then, and gripped Stone firmly by the shoulders and -shook him until a look of desperate pleading came into his eyes. He -forced himself not to feel pity, seeing in Stone's closeness to death a -threat that could have but one outcome if the man refused to speak at -all. - -"Where's Helen Ramsey?" he demanded. "Where is she, Stone? We're not -likely to do anything more for you if you don't tell us." - -"I--I don't know," Stone muttered. "Saddler ... double-crossed Henley. -I guess ... he wanted her for himself. I don't know where he's taken -her. I'm telling you the truth. You've got to believe me." - -"All right," Corriston said, easing Stone back on the sand. "I believe -you. Take it easy now. They've got the lamprene off." - -He stood very still, waiting for his heart to beat normally again, -telling himself that Saddler had taken an almost suicidal risk in -leaving the ship on foot with no certain refuge in mind. By taking -along a helpless girl, he was making himself a target for the rage and -relentless enmity of men who would never rest until they had tracked -him down. - -There could be no sanctuary for him anywhere. If he escaped Henley's -vengeance, the colonists would capture him in a matter of days. But -Corriston wasn't thinking in terms of days. He was thinking in terms of -minutes, hours. He stared at the empty stretch of desert ahead, trying -desperately to control the despair that was welling up inside him. How -long a head start did Saddler have? Had he left the ship only a few -minutes, or hours before? - -He'd have to ask Stone one more question. Like a fool he'd put off -asking it, dreading the thought of what Stone's answer might be. But -now he had no choice. He must ask, and risk knowing that pursuit could -not be immediately undertaken by one man, that Saddler was miles away -across the desert, hiding out in some remote and inaccessible cave and -that tracking him down and putting a bullet through his heart would -have to be a joint undertaking. - -It was a cruelly frustrating possibility. It increased Corriston's -rage, his bitterness. The hate within him seemed suddenly violent -enough to destroy anyone or anything. He preferred to go on alone, in -relentless pursuit of Saddler and if it took days to track him down.... - -It was Freddy's voice that brought him back to reality, startling -and sobering him. Freddy was coming toward him between the tractors, -shouting at the top of his lungs. - - - - -21 - - -Corriston couldn't quite catch what the lad was shouting at first. -Something about the dunes and the ship and footprints. Then he caught -the name of Helen Ramsey and his mouth went dry and for an instant he -couldn't seem to breathe. Freddy was shouting that he had found Helen -Ramsey. - -Dr. Drever started and leapt quickly to his feet, his eyes darting with -an understandable solicitude toward the small figure coming toward them -across the sand. He moved quickly to place himself directly in front -of Stone, as if fearing it would be bad for Freddy to see a man so -close to death. Then the full significance of Freddy's words seemed to -dawn on him, and his solicitude for his son was replaced by a larger -concern, a wider sympathy. - -"You talk to him, Corriston," he said. "You've been living through a -short stretch of hell. If he's really found her--" - -Corriston needed no urging. He swayed a little forward, steadied -himself and broke into a run, meeting Freddy almost midway between the -nearest tractor and the hollow where Drever was crouching. - -Freddy's eyes seemed almost too large for so young a face, large and -immensely serious. But along with the seriousness Corriston could sense -something else, a taper glow of excitement burning bright. - -Freddy had gone exploring. As he told Corriston about it, the words -seemed to flow from him as if they had a mysterious life of their own, -and were somehow reshaping Freddy, making him over into a grown man -with a heavy stubble of beard and eyes that had looked on far places -and a thousand brilliant suns. - -Freddy had found Helen Ramsey by following her footprints in the sand. -Corriston let Freddy tell it in his own words, shaken by doubts for a -moment, but finally convinced that the lad couldn't possibly be making -any of it up. - -"There wasn't a footprint anywhere near the ship, Lieutenant Corriston. -The sandstorm covered them over. I looked everywhere just to be sure. -I mean there wasn't any prints that could have been made by a woman -leaving the ship with a man. The sand was trampled in a few places, -because about ten minutes ago Mr. Macklin and two other men started -looking too. But that was all. - -"I remembered then that the sand sometimes stays nearly smooth close to -very high dunes, even in a storm. There's a--a windbreaking buffer zone -where the dunes keep the sand from piling up. I asked Mr. Macklin about -that once and he told me. I got to thinking that if I just wandered off -I could be back again before anyone missed me." - -Freddy turned and gestured toward the ship. "You can see the dunes -from here. Not the ones right behind the ship. Those two bigger ones -over there ... that sort of look like the humps on a camel. I guess -nobody would have been crazy enough to go looking for prints that far -away from the ship. But if I hadn't done it I wouldn't have found her. -That's for sure." - -Corriston said: "You're so much the opposite of crazy, Freddy, that I'm -afraid you're trying to spare me. It's hard to hurt someone you like, -but I've got to have the truth." - -His hand tightened on Freddy's shoulder. "Do you understand, Freddy? I -must know. Don't lie to spare me. Is she all right?" - -Freddy looked up at him, troubled, uncertain. "I think she is. She's -lying down near the bottom of the dune, right where it slopes up again -toward another dune. It's like one, big, hollow dune. I didn't see her -move. I guess she must have fainted. He's there, too, lying face down -in the sand halfway up the dune, like he was hurt...." - -"All right," Corriston said. "Now you'd better stay here with your -father." - -"Can't I go back with you? I was afraid to climb down to her alone. I -was afraid he'd catch me and kill me, and then no one would ever know -I'd found her. He'd be warned and try to get away--" - -"It was the right thing to do, the level-headed thing," Corriston said. -"You couldn't have used better judgment." - -"Then it's all right if I go back with you?" - -Corriston shook his head. "No, Freddy. I'd rather you didn't. Don't you -understand? You've done _more_ than your share. Now it's my turn." - -Freddy tightened his lips and stared for a moment at the glitter of -sunlight on the caterpillar tread of the nearest tractor. Finally he -said, "All right, Lieutenant Corriston. If it's an order." - -"It's an order, Freddy." - -Corriston gave Freddy's shoulder a pat. Then, after the briefest -pause, he said: "There's no substitute for the kind of fast-thinking -resourcefulness you've just displayed, Freddy. In a dozen years you'll -be heading an expedition and it won't be the kind that gets bogged down -after the first thousand miles. You can take my word for that." - -He turned then and walked toward the ship. In a moment he had passed -the ship and was moving out into the desert beyond, and Freddy wondered -how a man could remain so calm in an affair of life and death such as -this. It was just as well, perhaps, that he could not see Corriston's -face as he moved still further away from the ship into a loneliness of -desert and sky. - - * * * * * - -She was lying in a wind-scoured hollow beneath a seventy-foot dune, her -head resting on one sharply-bent elbow, a look of utter exhaustion on -her face. Her eyes were closed, and even from where he stood Corriston -could see that she was breathing heavily. He could see the slight rise -and fall of her bosom, the trembling vibration of her oxygen mask. She -was completely alone. - -He stood for an instant absolutely motionless on the summit of the -dune, staring down at her, noticing in alarm the hollow contour of her -cheeks on both sides of the oxygen mask, and the slight tinge of gray -that had crept into her countenance. Then he started downward. Almost -instantly the sand rose like an unsteady sea on all sides of him, and a -warning signal sounded in his brain. - -He could connect it with no cause. Beneath him stretched only the -wind-scoured inner surface of the dune, dazzling his eyes with its -brightness, mirroring the sunlight like a burning glass. For a moment -the brightness deceived him, and he did not realize that there were -shadowed hollows directly beneath him, dark fissures in the tumbled -sand wide enough to conceal a crouching man. He did not even see the -shadow creeping toward him over the sand. Only the dazzle for an -instant and the gleam of sunlight on Helen Ramsey's tousled hair. - -Then, suddenly, he was aware of the danger, fully awake and aware. But -realization came too late. Abruptly, without warning, a knife blade -flashed in the sunlight and he felt an agonizing stab of pain just -below his left kneecap. - -A dark shape rose before him, and then dissolved into the shadows -again, darting downward and sideways as it disappeared. Corriston threw -himself backwards and froze into immobility, thrusting his elbows deep -into the sand behind him, using that moment of surprise forced upon him -by his assailant to lower his eyes and seek him out. - -He saw Saddler's face clearly for an instant, saw the gleaming knife -and the hand holding it, and the wavering outline of the man's -crouching body three-fourths in shadow. He heard Saddler mutter: "I'm -done for, Corriston. But I'll get you first." - -It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Corriston's hand went to -his hip, but with a nightmare feeling of retardation and his fingers -seemed to move without any assistance from the motor centers of his -brain. Then even more slowly he was facing the hollow with the gun in -his clasp, and the weapon was exploding into the shadows, filling the -hollows and windy places with reverberating echoes of sound. - -There was complete silence after that. No groans, no outcry--nothing -but silence. It went on for so long that Corriston could not shake off -a numbing sense of unreality. Surely only a dream could have had so -violently unreal a beginning, so terrible an outcome. Then he looked -down, and saw the blood on his leg where the knife had grazed it, and -knew that it could not have been a dream. - -He was still facing the hollow, with two bullets left in his gun. But -he knew that he would not have to fire again. Saddler was lying on his -back on the sand, his eyes wide open, his jaw hanging slack. There was -a spreading red stain on his chest and a rim of blood around his lips. -The wind which was blowing across the crest of the dune seemed suddenly -to turn malevolent, striking out at the dead man with a sudden, -downsweeping gust, ruffling his hair and making him seem to be still -enveloped in violence. - -Corriston felt his throat muscles contract. He forced himself to bend -over and search for a heart beat he knew he wouldn't find, remembering -the other times when the outcome had been less fatal, when only a man's -face had changed. - -As his palm rested for an instant above the dead man's heart, the -stirring of the sand immediately beneath him seemed to increase, to -become a loud and continuous rustling sound that filled him with a -vague sense of disquiet. He could not quite dismiss from his mind a -feeling that he was still in danger, that in some strange, almost -terrifying way Saddler was still a menace, and that the terrible -reality of his death had not destroyed all of the hatred and savage -violence which had forced Corriston to kill him in self-defense. - -Suddenly Corriston realized that what he heard was not the wind -stirring the sand at all, but something quite different. It was closer -to him than the sloping rim of the dunes, and it was accompanied by -movements directly under his hand, a sudden tightening of the dead -man's skin, a contraction more pronounced than could have been produced -by the abrupt onset of rigor mortis, however freakishly violent or -premature. - -The rustling continued for perhaps ten more seconds. Then, abruptly, it -stopped and the heads of two lamprenes came into view, moving slowly -across Saddler's unstirring flesh until their writhing mouth parts were -less than two inches from Corriston's outspread hand. - -The sight of them brought an instant of terror, an awareness of peril -so acute that Corriston's breath caught in his throat. His hand whipped -back and he leapt to his feet with a convulsive shudder. - -It was suddenly very still on the dune again. Corriston stood for a -moment with his body rigid, fearing to look downward, his mind filled -with a growing sense of panic. - -Had Helen Ramsey been attacked by lamprenes too? No, no, she was all -right; she had to be. Everything confirmed it, her quietness, her -steady breathing, the simple fact that her eyes had been closed and not -opened wide in torment. - -He descended the dune like a man ploughing in frantic haste through a -snowdrift, sinking to his knees and floundering free again, lurching -backward and sideways, sliding a third of the way. - -She was all right when he got to her. He dropped down beside her and -lifted her into his arms, and for an instant there was complete silence -between them. She just looked at him, looked up into his face steadily -and calmly, as if she could read his mind and had the good sense to -realize there could be no more certain way of reassuring him. Then -her arms tightened about him. "Darling," she whispered. "Darling, -darling...." - -Corriston started fumbling with his oxygen mask and suddenly he had it -off. He held his breath and more slowly helped her free her lips so -that he could kiss her. Their lips met and the kiss was longer and more -intense than any they had ever before shared. - - * * * * * - -A half hour later the tractors were in rumbling motion again, their -destination Ramsey's Citadel. And Corriston had a plan. He knew that it -was riddled with risks and that he was perhaps quite mad to think that -it might succeed. But the fact that Helen Ramsey was now completely -safe and had dropped off into a brief, outwardly untroubled sleep -at his side made him feel reckless to the point where a cautious, -level-headed man like Drever could only stare at him and shake his head. - -There was a swaying and a creaking all about them, the slow, steady -rumble of caterpillar treads, and Drever had almost to shout to make -himself heard. He stood directly opposite Corriston, supporting himself -by a guard rail, and watching the desert through the weather-shield -change color in the wake of the heavy vehicle's heaving, churning, -torpedo-shaped rear-end. - -"Stone's been unconscious now for an hour," Drever said, dividing his -gaze between Corriston, and the loosely strapped-in, sleeping girl at -his side, both swaying with the swaying tractor. "We can't count on -getting any more information out of him. I can't wake him up. Drugs -would be dangerous. I don't think he'll live, but we can't deliberately -kill him to get him to talk." - -"I know that," Corriston said. - -"But he's the only one who knows why Henley is staying so long at -the Citadel. He should have been back hours ago. He left before you -escaped from the ship. For all we know, he may be dead. Ramsey may have -lost his head and had him shot, although that seems unlikely. Ramsey -would go to any length to save his daughter. But we've no way of -knowing whether he believed Henley's story or not. Anything could have -happened. Henley may have attacked Ramsey." - -"I've a feeling that he's still at the Citadel," Corriston said. "I'll -have to gamble on that--the one-in-five chance that for some reason the -negotiations have been prolonged. He may be lying dead in the desert -somewhere. He may have been attacked by lamprenes. As you say, anything -could have happened. But when I make up my mind to do something I -usually go through with it. It's just a matter of plain common sense. -You don't toss aside a decision you've given a great deal of thought to -just because the arguments against it are weighty, too." - -"I see. So you're still determined to walk right up to the gate and -tell them you're Stone." - -"Why not? They've never laid eyes on Stone and they don't know me from -Adam. I won't be wearing this uniform. I'll tell them that Henley's -expecting me, that he left orders for me to join him if he failed to -come back at a specified time. I'll watch the guard's face and change -my story a little--if I have to--as I go along." - -"It's a _very_ long gamble. I hope you realize that." - -"It's either that or no gamble at all. And we've _got_ to gamble. We're -holding at least two high cards and a joker. Henley has had the ground -shot right out from under him. He's completely alone, and the only -thing he has left to gamble with is his nearness to Ramsey, his ability -to terrify Ramsey by making him believe that his daughter's life is -still in danger. Ramsey has to be told that Helen has been freed, has -to be warned in time, before he does anything foolish. - -"Don't you see? With that threat hanging over him, Ramsey would never -let us get within fifty yards of the Citadel, let alone walk through -the gates. And if Henley finds out that we've got Helen, he'll know -that he has nothing left to gamble with except that desperate bluff. -And he may doubt his ability to win with a bluff. That would be the -worst tragedy of all. He may turn on Ramsey in blind rage, and kill -him. He gets a horrible, pathological pleasure out of killing. I've -told you how he went berserk on the Station." - -Drever nodded, and, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, the look of -stubborn opposition was gone from his eyes. - -"I guess you're right, Lieutenant. You can't always tell how the cards -will fall." - -"You can never tell," Corriston said. "And there are some games where -the important moves can only be made by just one player, and he usually -has to be something of a reckless fool." - - - - -22 - - -Corriston left the tractor a hundred and seventy yards from the gate, -well hidden behind a hundred foot dune. The other tractors had come to -a halt a much greater distance from the Citadel, and were spread out -across the desert in a slightly uneven, double line. - -He walked slowly forward across the rust-red sand, with a feeling in -his bones that he was going to be lucky. Yet he knew that he'd have to -be convincing, or he wouldn't stand a chance. If there was more than -one guard at the gate he might never get inside. With luck he might be -able to convince two guards--even three--but never four or five, for -you couldn't forge words into persuasive enough weapons to disarm the -suspicion of that many observant men. Not the kind of men who would be -guarding Ramsey, at any rate. - -The massiveness of the fortified gate shook his confidence a little -as he drew near to it. It was at least fifty feet in height, a solid -oblong of inches-thick steel with a desert-mirroring surface. He could -see his own reflection as he advanced, but it did nothing to reassure -him. - -He knew what he'd have to do, of course. Walk right up to the gate and -trust to luck that he could find some way of announcing his presence -without getting himself killed. How _did_ you gain entrance to an -impregnable fortress? Surely there had to be some way by which a man -could gain admittance without being instantly shot down as a hostile -intruder. - -He was surprised by the simplicity of the answer. There was no need for -him to press a bell or a buzzer, to manipulate a mechanism of any sort. -There was not even any need for him to proclaim his arrival by shouting. - -The gate swung inward without a sound, and in the shadows cast by -its moving bulk two figures silently materialized. They were guards, -heavily armed, one tall with shaggy brows and piercing dark eyes, the -other a wiry little man with reddish hair, his expression peculiarly -bland and non-committal. - -It was the little man who said: "All right, come inside. We've been -expecting you." - -It was impossible, but true. There was nothing threatening in the way -the words were uttered, just calm acceptance, just the matter-of-fact -indifference of a man who has a duty to perform and doesn't care what -happens afterwards. - -But it would have perhaps been better if Corriston had not moved so -quickly forward, for almost instantly the second guard barred his -passage and laid a firm hand on his arm. - -"Hold on. Just a minute," the tall guard said. "You're Peter Stone, -aren't you?" - -With a quick pretense of anger Corriston jerked his arm free and looked -the guard up and down. "Naturally I'm Stone. Who in hell did you think -I was." - -"Sorry," the guard said, shrugging. "Don't take it out on me. I just -had to be sure." - -"Well, you're sure now. I guess you know why I'm here." - -The guard nodded. "Ramsey just phoned down about you. Your friend is -with him now. See that big gray building, the one on the left with the -shuttered windows? There's a guard stationed at the door, but he won't -stop you. He has his orders. Climb two flights of stairs and go down -the long corridor on the third floor. Ramsey and your friend are in the -last room on the left." - -Corriston drew a deep breath, wondering if the guard had noticed the -tightening of his facial muscles. He turned away from the gate slowly, -staring out over the interior of the fortress, letting his emotions of -the moment take complete possession of him. - -He had entered as if by magic a world apart, a small, shutin world -of massive magnificence, of undreamed of material power and wealth. -There were five buildings within the encircling wall of the fortress, -each monumental in architectural sweep. Each was a citadel alone and -apart, monuments to man's creative genius erected by one man with a -determination to make himself unique. - -It was a folly almost beyond belief, a terrifying distortion of human -creativeness that could lead only to ultimate disaster and defeat. - -But greedy and cruel and ruthless as Ramsey undoubtedly was, there -still burned in him a little of the spark that had created Athens in -white marble. Had it not been so, he could not have even commissioned -men of creative genius to transport to Mars the materials for such a -project and have taken pleasure in its completion. - -"Your friend got here two hours ago," the tall guard said. "They've -been talking ever since. He came down to the gate once and said we -should let you in, you and another man. Saddler, I think his name was. -I see he's not with you." - -"No, Saddler is not with me," Corriston said. - -"What happened to him?" - -"The big gray building with the shuttered windows, you said. If the -guard tries to stop me, what do I say." - -"I told you he had his orders." - -Corriston looked up at the massive gate swinging shut behind him. For -good or ill, he was completely trapped, completely at the mercy of the -armed guards inside the citadel. - -They hadn't taken his gun away from him, but, nevertheless, he was -trapped. What chance would one armed man have against seventy-five or -a hundred guards? They were keeping out of sight, all but the two at -the gate. But at any moment they could converge upon him and shoot -him down. They could choose their own moment, precisely as a research -medical man could choose his own moment to experiment upon a laboratory -animal, knowing that the creature was safe in its cage and couldn't -possibly get away. - -Corriston's lips tightened and from a shadowed corner of his mind came -a determination to brush all that aside, to ignore it completely. The -guards at the gate might very well be telling the truth. It stood to -reason that Ramsey would have remained secretive about his daughter. -Kidnappers do not like to have their ransom demands discussed too -openly. If Ramsey had been a complete fool he would have gone down -to the gate and taken the guards completely into his confidence, but -Corriston could not believe that Ramsey was that much of a fool. - -In all probability Henley had threatened Ramsey and provoked him almost -beyond endurance. There had arisen the questions of how the ransom was -to be paid, the girl set free. - -Damn it, Corriston thought, the thing for me to do now is to go -straight toward that building and straight up the stairs to the third -floor and straight down the corridor until I'm confronting Ramsey face -to face. I'm Peter Stone. I'm one of the two men who helped Henley -kidnap the girl and I've come to help Henley convince Ramsey. I've -come to help him really put the screws on Ramsey. I can improvise from -that point on. - -He moved away from the guards without looking back. Within the citadel -there was silence, stillness, the five massive buildings cutting a -rampart of pure, fragile design across the sky. There was a strange -kind of perfection about the interior of the citadel. It was akin, -somehow, to the perfection of solitude and even the sky seemed hushed, -expectant, remote from reality, as if awaiting the unfolding of some -impossible event, some terrifying drama of violence and retribution -that could take place nowhere else. - -But Corriston's reason told him that to believe any such thing would -have been the height of folly. The sky inside the citadel was just as -real, just as cloud-flecked and palely blue as the sky outside, and the -notion that architecture or scenery of any kind could influence events -was absolute nonsense. Things would happen exactly as he willed them to -happen, provided nothing stood in the way of immediate drastic action -and the kind of luck which had saved him at the gate continued to smile -upon him. - -The big gray building with the shuttered windows continued to occupy -most of his attention, and he walked very resolutely toward it, his -eyes on the glimmer of pale light which marked its wide doorway. He was -still fifty feet away when he saw the guard, standing very quietly just -inside the door with his hand on his gun holster. - -Corriston's lips tightened, but he did not moderate his stride. He had -a reply ready if the guard challenged him. He preferred to believe that -he would not be challenged, but he had no intention of taking anything -for granted. - -He continued on until he reached the doorway and then he stopped -abruptly. He waited for the guard to say something, but the man did not -speak at all. He simply stared quietly at Corriston for an instant, and -then stepped quickly back into the shadows. Corriston went on past him, -and advanced along the wide corridor that stretched before him. - -The wide central staircase that circled up did not seem appropriate -to a building that was not a residence and Corriston found himself -wondering if Ramsey had turned the other four buildings into similarly -unusual expressions of his own strong-willed orientation to reality. - -The buildings had undoubtedly been designed as administrative units -of an industrial empire--a beginning empire in a new world. An empire -predatory, avaricious, merciless. Yet Ramsey had seemingly allowed his -desire for a home to gain dominance here, had allowed the emotions -common to all men to influence his taste in interior architecture in at -least one of the buildings. - -Chalk up that much to Ramsey's credit. In that respect at least, he -was superior to Henley. In that respect at least a man of good will -could take sides, all apart from the personal issues involved. Henley -was a predatory vulture on all counts, his talons constantly spread, -constantly crimson-tipped. Ramsey was a vulture too, but in the depths -of his mind he knew it. Part of the agony was shared by him, and in -one desperate, despairing part of his personality he had tried to be -creative. - -Corriston ascended the staircase swiftly, casting one brief glance at -some murals and then ignoring them. The second floor landing stretched -away into shadows, bisected by a wide corridor dimly lighted by -overhead lamps. The second floor had an administrative building aspect -and so did the third floor, which seemed in all respects its exact -duplicate. - -Corriston's excitement grew as he mounted the stairway. He felt like -a man poised on the brink of a precipice with no assurance that he -would not be hurled to his death; a man aware that tragedy would not -strike him like a thunderbolt at any moment; and yet also like a man -who thought and felt differently from the trapped and the desperately -despairing. - -He felt very confident, very sure of himself, and it seemed to him that -there was no danger that he could not surmount, and deep within him -there was something that exulted in the thought and kept him moving -steadily upward. - -The third floor was like the second, its long central corridor -dwindling away into shadows. Down it he moved cautiously, remembering -what the guard at the gate had said. The third floor, the last door on -your left. - -Ramsey was in conference. But it wasn't a conference of industrial -associates planning a division of spoils. Ramsey was talking to a -killer under duress. - -Corriston was half way down the corridor when he heard the shot. It -rang out in the stillness with a terrible clarity, sending echoes -reverberating throughout the building, stopping Corriston in his tracks. - -For an instant the silence remained absolute, as if the shot had -somehow silenced all life within the building. Even Corriston's -breathing was affected by it, so that for an instant he remained like -a man horror-blasted into immobility, frozen, a statue with waxen -features and widely dilated eyes. - -Then, abruptly, he ceased to be a statue. He broke into a run, heading -for the door from which the shot had come. - -He came to the door and saw that it did not slide open on a panel. It -was massive, with a knob jutting out from it, and when he grasped the -knob it swung inward instantly and soundlessly and he found himself in -a large, blank-walled room brightly illumed by three circular overhead -lamps. - -Ramsey was sitting stiff and straight before a desk that was cluttered -with reference files, manuscripts in folders, pens, pencils and other -writing materials. His face was drained of all color, and his eyes were -wide and staring. He was looking directly at Corriston, and yet he did -not seem to see Corriston. - -He did not appear to be staring at anything in particular, that small, -shrunken, unimpressive-looking little man with graying temples and a -look of blank incomprehension in his eyes that chilled Corriston to the -core of his being. - -Shaking, wishing that the eyes would close or brighten with relief, or -do anything but remain so stonily indifferent, Corriston moved closer -to the desk. - -He saw at once that Ramsey was close to death. He had been shot in the -chest. There was a dull red stain on his chest, and even as Corriston -stared it widened, a butterfly pattern of red, like a Rorschach seen -through the eyes of a homicidally inclined psychotic. - -Suddenly Ramsey moved. He caught hold of the desk edge, and swayed a -little, but his eyes remained filmed, blankly staring. - -Corriston was bending above him when a familiar voice said: "He's done -for. Nothing you can do for him. We had an argument and he lost his -head. He just couldn't see it my way. So I made a mistake and shot him. -It was a mistake, all right. I lost _my_ head. Now I've got nothing to -lose by killing you." - -Corriston raised his eyes slowly. He had one chance in a hundred -perhaps. He knew it; he sensed it. Henley had somehow managed to stay -out of sight for an instant. The room was very large. There were -shadows in it, and Henley had apparently flattened himself against the -wall behind the desk, in deep shadow. - -But now he was standing very straight and still behind the desk, -ignoring the shuddering form of the man he had shot, little dark -deathheads dancing in his eyes. - -Henley's nearness did not bother Corriston. Death at ten feet could be -no more final than death at a hundred yards. - -Only one thing bothered him. Events could move fast when you were close -to a killer. - -He didn't intend to let them move fast. Not for him, at any rate. He -let his eyes rest for an instant on the gun in Henley's hand, his -thoughts racing. He knew that he'd be as good as dead if he made a -single concession. - -Don't let him know that the gun worries you. Pretend that the odds are -even, even though he's got the drop on you. - -Corriston said: "How do you know he's fatally wounded? The wound's -three inches below his heart. You're taking a hell of a lot for -granted. You just said you made a mistake in shooting him. If he's -rushed to a hospital that mistake may not be your last. You'll have a -chance to go to work on him again." - -Henley shook his head, his lips tightening. "Don't be a fool. He'll be -dead in five minutes." - -"I'm not being a fool," Corriston said. "What will you stand to gain by -shooting me and letting him die? You've got his daughter, but a dead -man won't be able to ransom her." - -For a moment, nothing happened. Henley had made no attempt to draw -his gun, and he did not draw it now. He stood very quietly staring at -Corriston, breathing heavily, a strange, withdrawn look in his eyes. - -Perhaps he was thinking over what Corriston had said. Corriston -wondered about that for an instant, and then dismissed it from his -mind. You did not take anything for granted when you were standing that -close to a killer. - -It was probably too late to save Ramsey. But for the first time he was -standing very near to Henley with a weapon beneath his hand. If he drew -his gun instantly and shot Henley through the heart Ramsey might have a -chance. Otherwise.... - -Somehow he couldn't do it; not without giving the other some slight -warning, not without whipping his hand to his gun with a vigor that -was clear and unmistakable. In matters of crime a fair man is at a -disadvantage. He can only deal with a murderer in one way. - -He drew a split second ahead of Henley. He shot Henley three times, the -gun blazing in his hands, and it did not seem important to him that -Henley had also drawn his gun. A tight knot reached into his stomach as -Henley's gun blazed, but he kept right on firing. - -Henley died missing him, not scoring at all. That was the incredible -thing. Henley, an expert shot, a genius at massacre, had missed him -clearly with five shots and now he was down on the floor, clutching at -his stomach, dragging himself along, while beneath his fingers a dull -red stain grew. - -His eyes turned glassy suddenly. He tried twice to raise himself but he -fell back each time. He did not speak at all. Blood from his punctured -lungs flooded up into his mouth, and with a terrible, convulsive -trembling of his entire body he rolled over on his side and lay still. - -Corriston's hands began to sweat beneath the hard, cold gun. He wanted -to drop the weapon, to hurl it from him, but he couldn't somehow. He -had killed Saddler in immediate self-defense. This had been a little -different--a new experience, a frightening experience and he had been -forced to grit his teeth even in firing, and now that it was all over -he was tormented inwardly in a way that left him badly shaken. - -Henley was gone now. Dead and still and forever removed from a world -he had contaminated. Henley had been warped and twisted largely by -circumstances outside himself; nevertheless a deadly reptile has to be -crushed when it is about to strike. - -Corriston looked up from the limp form sprawled out on the floor, and -for a moment the tight lines of his face relaxed a little. Henley was -no longer a menace; the breath of life that had sustained him had -expired so completely that he had become now a kind of hollow mockery -of something monstrous and distorted that could never harm anyone again. - -It was Ramsey who had to be considered now, Ramsey who was in peril. - -The light in the room seemed somehow a little dimmer than it had been. -He turned slowly back to Ramsey, and for a moment could not quite -believe what he saw. - -Ramsey's face was changing. The hollows beneath his cheekbones were -deeper than they had been, and his mouth had gone completely slack, and -his eyes were uprolled in a quite ghastly way, so that only the whites -showed. - -Slowly as Corriston stared Ramsey's features began to come apart. The -familiar, hideous pattern began to repeat itself on Ramsey's blanched -features. The mouth widened until it turned into a shapeless, colorless -gash in a face that was hardly recognizable. The nose widened and -spread out, the chin receded, and the cheeks became a flattened expanse -of wrinkled flesh that stubbornly refused to stop spreading. - -Ramsey's face became a pumpkin face, with slits for eyes and a hideous -caricature of a mouth that seemed almost to pout as it expanded. - -Suddenly Ramsey was no longer sitting upright before the desk. His body -swayed and began to slump, tilting at first only a little sideways and -then sliding completely from the chair to the floor. - -Ramsey did not descend to the floor with violence. It was a slow, -barely perceptible gliding motion of his entire body that carried him -from an upright position to a prone one in less than thirty seconds. -His body seemed to collapse inward upon itself, as if he had suddenly -become too skeleton-thin for his clothes, as if so much vitality had -been drained from him by the shot which had put an end to his life that -he had given up all hope of maintaining his dignity in death. - -But perhaps the man on the floor had no dignity to maintain. He wasn't -Ramsey. He was a hired substitute, an impostor, and quite obviously no -man would undertake to play such a role without calculating all of the -risks in advance. Perhaps he expected to die without dignity. Perhaps -that was one of the risks which went with the bargain--the assumption -that Ramsey might very well be killed in a violent fashion, and that -anyone who stepped into Ramsey's shoes and masqueraded as Ramsey might -expect a similar fate. - -Corriston felt a nerve begin to twitch violently in his cheek. Why -had Ramsey kept Henley occupied in so strange a manner, talking to a -nonentity, a stand-in, a double who could never bargain and come to -terms unless Ramsey ordered him to do so? Had Ramsey been incapable of -dealing with Henley directly, and had taken this means of complying -with the ransom demands? - -It seemed incredible on the face of it. Ramsey was quite obviously the -kind of man who could live through any kind of private hell if he had -to. - -He'd have stood up to Henley no matter how great his inner torment. -He'd have met the ransom demands or rejected them--and it was almost -inconceivable that he would have rejected them--without for an instant -losing his outward composure. And even inwardly he would have kept a -tight rein on his emotions. He was not the kind of man who would hire -someone else to protect him from anything that vitally concerned him, -even with the masks so conveniently at hand. - -Why then had he employed a double to bargain with Henley and keep him -occupied for so long a time? It didn't matter if Ramsey had made use -of doubles in the past. Probably he had, in order to protect himself -in dealings with the colonists when the advantages of deception -would favor him. But he would never have done so under these present -circumstances--when a criminal who would stop at nothing was holding -his daughter under threat of death. - -He would never have done so unless he had some very special reason that -dominated his thinking to the exclusion of all else. - -Suddenly Corriston had the answer. It came to him in a lightning-swift -flash of intuition, which carried with it complete credibility. It was -more than a guess. Somehow he was sure; he knew. A full minute before -he heard the dull rumble of the tractors as they came through the -gate, and went to the window and stared down, he knew. - -He had the answer and yet what he saw eclipsed what he knew. It was a -little like watching a rocket take off, hearing the roar and seeing the -flames through all of its burning time, and seeing at the same time the -men on the proving ground moving swiftly about, and the space-helmeted -men at the controls of the rocket itself, each grimly intent on one -particular task. - -Ramsey was returning into the Citadel with armed guards on both sides -of him, and his daughter was walking with her head erect at his -side. Five colony tractors had followed him into the Citadel and two -more were just coming through the gate, moving ponderously on their -caterpillar treads because each tractor weighed two tons even in the -light gravity of Mars. - -Corriston did an almost unbelievable thing then. Standing quietly -by the window he raised his right hand and saluted Ramsey in silent -tribute to the man's courage at the most threatening moment of his life. - -What Ramsey had done in no way lessened his guilt. But Corriston would -have just as readily repeated the salute in public, without caring what -anyone might think. What Ramsey had done was as clear to him now as a -series of moves on a chessboard laid out in advance, but hidden from -the man who was to be outwitted and outplayed. - -Ramsey had made use of a double to keep Henley occupied--no doubt with -repeated, skillful evasions, a constant insistence that more proof be -forthcoming, more details supplied. Perhaps a half-dozen conferences -had taken place in all, extending over many hours. And while Henley was -being encouraged to believe that Ramsey was being softened up and would -accept all of his demands in the end, Ramsey had gone out into the -desert alone, armed, furious, and determined to rescue his daughter if -it cost him his life. - -Or perhaps he hadn't gone alone. Perhaps he had taken a dozen armed -guards with him. Somehow it didn't seem important, couldn't take away -Ramsey's moment of victory. It was a moment of victory for Ramsey even -though he hadn't played a major role for long, even though he had found -his daughter already rescued and safe on his return. And Corriston had -been the one to move out into the center of the board and deliver the -_coup de grace_. He had kept a restless killer immobilized while the -play was under way, and that was victory enough for any man. - -Corriston suddenly realized that neither Ramsey nor the Colonists had -any way of knowing that Henley was dead. They had probably joined -forces outside the Citadel for the sole purpose of rescuing him from -the deadliest kind of danger. And he wasn't helping them at all. In -another minute they'd be trying to get to him with tear gas. - -It didn't make any kind of sense, but when Corriston went down the wide -central staircase he wasn't thinking about the colonists at all. He was -wondering only how Helen Ramsey would look standing alone on a strange -dark headland at midnight. Then the vision dissolved and another one -took its place. She wasn't on a headland any more. - -She was standing at the door of a small, white cottage and there were -a couple of kids beside her: a boy of about Freddy's age, or maybe a -little younger, and a little girl with golden curls, her hair like a -crown. - -He realized suddenly that it could never be a small, white cottage. -There were no small white cottages on the Station, and never could be. -But the Station would be all right for a married man with kids. The -kids could come and visit him, and his wife could be with him about -one-fourth of the time, both on the Station and on Earth. - -What more could a happily married man ask, if the Station was so much -a part of him that it was never wholly absent from his thoughts? He'd -have to ask her, of course--at least a dozen times to make sure--that -she really wanted that kind of man for a husband. But he knew what her -answer would be even before the vision dissolved, and he was soon out -in the central square between the five buildings, holding her tightly -in his arms. - -From the way she kissed him he knew that she must have endured an -eternity of torment just from uncertainty, just from not knowing -whether he was dead or alive. For an instant he could think of nothing -else but the wonder of it, the absolute reassurance which she had -brought to him with her closeness, her gratefulness, the intensity of -her concern. - -Across the square they could see the tractors, looking in the dazzling -light like massive blocks of metal standing almost end to end. There -was a great deal of movement and shouting between the buildings, and -Corriston knew that in another half-minute they would no longer be -alone together, that the closeness couldn't last. - -A change was coming over her face, and he was suddenly afraid for her, -afraid that when she was told the full truth about her father just the -pain of knowing might make her withdraw from him, even though it could -never really come between them or separate them for long. - -So there it was. He could see it in her eyes, the fear, the shadow, -and because he had no way of knowing just how much she already knew -he decided that only complete honesty could keep the shadow from -lengthening. - -His hands moved slowly up over her face, and he drew her chin up and -said, very gently: "There's something I'd like to say now, about your -father. Without his help Henley would have finished what he started out -to do. There are different ways of paying off a debt, and your father--" - -She raised her hand as if to put a stop to his words. "Darling, I know -he's in serious trouble. Don't try to spare me; there's no need to. -There will be a trial and we both know what the outcome will be. He'll -never walk out of the courtroom a free man. But he's not afraid ... and -neither am I. These last few, terrible hours have changed him. He's not -ashamed now to admit that he loves me. All the hardness, the coldness, -is gone." - -Something in her voice stilled the questions he wanted to ask. She -seemed to sense what was in his mind, for she said quickly. "I don't -think father has any enemies now on Mars. He's going to give the -colonists back their land. Not because he has to, but because he wants -to. They came to his assistance when they could have used the way -he cheated and robbed them as an excuse for not helping him at all. -There are few men who wouldn't feel grateful, who wouldn't be shaken -by remorse. But I think it goes deeper than that. Even now I'm not -completely sure, but I think he knows it's the only way he can free -himself from the prison he's been building around himself since I was a -little girl." - -She was silent for an instant, while the pain in her eyes seemed to -deepen. Then she said, "I can't leave him now, darling. Not right away. -It would be too cruel a blow." - -Ahead now Corriston could see three of the colonists coming toward him. -They were less than forty feet away. "I think I know how it is," he -said. "When you've been through too much, you just go dead inside. You -can feel sympathy for someone very close, like your father. But that's -about all...." - -"Darling, that's not what I mean. We'll be apart, but just for a little -while. It will be so short a time we won't even miss it later on ... -two or three weeks, at most. And this time you won't have to wonder -about me at all." - -Corriston noticed then for the first time that her hair had been blown -in all directions by the wind. He remembered how, on their first -meeting, it had been disarranged in much the same way. She'd been -wearing a beret then, and just the casual tilt of her hat had done -the fluffing. But wind or no wind, he'd always like the way her hair -looked, the gold in it, and the way it set off the great beauty of her -face. - -"I'd be more than unreasonable if I tried to pick flaws in a promise -like that," he said. - -"You can never go home again," someone had once said. You can never go -home because people change and places change with them, and familiar -scenes take on an aspect of strangeness as the old, well-loved -landmarks fade. - -But in space, the landmarks are as wide and deep as the gulfs between -the stars, and it is not too difficult for a man to return to a -steel-ribbed Gibraltar in space and experience again the emotions he -felt when he first sighted it, and hear again the long thunder-roll of -the ships berthing and taking off. - -The ship which was bringing Corriston back had begun to loom up behind -the telemetric aerials with her bow slanting forward. She had almost -berthed, and, standing with his face half in shadow, Commander Clement -watched the landing lights flashing on and off and wondered just what -he would say to the young lieutenant he'd never met--the very famous -lieutenant who would be emerging from the boarding port and descending -the ramp any minute now. - -He told himself that it ought to be something very simple and direct, -accompanied by a friendly handclasp and a nod. "Welcome back, -Lieutenant. Welcome back. I guess you know how I feel about the -scoundrels who kept us from meeting the first time." - -Yes, just a few words and a friendly handclasp would be best. No -salutes either given or returned. No stiff-necked salutes, and damn the -regulations for once. It was truly a very great occasion. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Space Station 1, by Frank Belknap Long - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACE STATION 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 50290-8.txt or 50290-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/2/9/50290/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Space Station 1 - -Author: Frank Belknap Long - -Release Date: October 23, 2015 [EBook #50290] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACE STATION 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="373" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1><i>SPACE STATION 1</i></h1> - -<p>by FRANK BELKNAP LONG</p> - - -<p>ACE BOOKS<br /> -A Division of A. A. Wyn, Inc.<br /> -23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.</p> - -<p>SPACE STATION 1<br /> -Copyright 1957, by A. A. Wyn, Inc.</p> - -<p>All Rights Reserved</p> - - -<p>Printed in U. S. A.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence<br /> -that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph3">INTRIGUE IN EARTH'S OUTER ORBIT</p> - - -<p>Tremendous and glittering, the Space Station floated up out of the Big -Dark. Lieutenant Corriston had come to see its marvels, but he soon -found himself entrapped in its unsuspected terrors.</p> - -<p>For the grim reality was that some deadly outer-space power had usurped -control of the great artificial moon. A lovely woman had disappeared; -passengers were being fleeced and enslaved; and, using fantastic -disguises, imposters were using the Station for their own mysterious -ends.</p> - -<p>Pursued by unearthly monsters and hunted with super-scientific cunning, -Corriston struggles to unmask the mystery. For upon his success -depended his life, his love and the future of Earth itself.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph2">CAST OF CHARACTERS</p> - - -<p class="ph3">CORRISTON</p> - -<p class="ph4">He saw all the sights of the Space Station ... in fact, he saw too -much....</p> - - -<p class="ph3">HAYES</p> - -<p class="ph4">His decision would mean the beginning or the end for a world.</p> - - -<p class="ph3">CLAKEY</p> - -<p class="ph4">This bodyguard needed special protection himself.</p> - - -<p class="ph3">CLEMENT</p> - -<p class="ph4">Sometimes it seemed as if he were leading a double life.</p> - - -<p class="ph3">HENLEY</p> - -<p class="ph4">With him for a friend one didn't need an enemy.</p> - - -<p class="ph3">HELEN RAMSEY</p> - -<p class="ph4">Her father had made her a virtual prisoner.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>1</h2> - - -<p>It was a life-and-death struggle—cruel, remorseless, one-sided. -Corriston was breathing heavily. He was in total darkness, dodging the -blows of a killer. His adversary was as lithe as a cat, muscular and -dangerous. He had a knife and he was using it, slashing at Corriston -when Corriston came close, then leaping back and lashing out with a -hard-knuckled fist.</p> - -<p>Corriston could hear the swish of the man's heels as he pivoted, could -judge almost with split-second timing when the next blow would come. -He was bleeding from a cut on his right shoulder, and there was a -tumultuous throbbing at his temples, an ache in his groin.</p> - -<p>The fact that he had no weapon put him at a terrifying disadvantage. He -had been close to death before, but never in so confined a space or in -such close proximity to a man who had certainly killed once and would -not hesitate to kill again.</p> - -<p>His determination to survive was pitted against what appeared to be -sheer brute strength fortified by cunning and a far-above-average -agility. He began slowly to retreat, backing away until a massive steel -girder stopped him. He was battling dizziness now and his heart had -begun a furious pounding.</p> - -<p>He found himself slipping sideways along the girder, running his hands -over its smooth, cold surface. To his sweating palms the surface seemed -as chill as the lid of a coffin, but he refused to believe that it -could trap him irretrievably. The girder had to end somewhere.</p> - -<p>The killer was coming close again, his shoes making a scraping sound -in the darkness, his breathing just barely audible. Corriston edged -still further along the girder. Inch by inch he moved parallel to it, -fighting off his dizziness, making a desperate effort to keep from -falling. The wetness on his shoulder was unnerving, the absence of -pain incredible. How seriously could a man be stabbed without feeling -any pain at all? He didn't know. But at least his shoulder wasn't -paralyzed. He could move his arm freely, flex the muscles of his back.</p> - -<p>How unbelievably cruel it was that a ship could move through space with -the stability of a completely stationary object. How unbelievably cruel -at this moment, when the slightest lurch might have saved him.</p> - -<p>The girder was stationary and immense, and in his tormented inward -vision he saw it as a strand in a gigantic steel cobweb, symbolizing -the grandeur of what man could accomplish by routine compulsion alone.</p> - -<p>In frozen helplessness Corriston tried to bring his thoughts into -closer accord with reality, to view his peril in a saner light. But -what was happening to him was as hard to relate to immediate reality -as a line half remembered from a play. <i>See how the blood of Caesar -followed it, as if rushing out of doors to be resolved if Brutus so -unkindly knocked or no....</i></p> - -<p>But the killer wasn't Brutus. He was unknown and invisible and if -there had been any Brutuslike nobility in him, it hardly seemed likely -that he would have chosen for his first victim a wealthy girl's too -talkative bodyguard and for his second Corriston himself.</p> - -<p>The killer was within arm's reach again when the barrier that had -trapped Corriston fell away abruptly. He reeled back, swayed dizzily, -and experienced such wild elation that he cried out in unreasoning -triumph. Swiftly he retreated backwards, not fully realizing that no -real respite had been granted him. He was free only to recoil a few -steps, to crouch and weave about. Almost instantly the killer was -closing in again, and this time there was no escape.</p> - -<p>Another metal girder stopped Corriston in midretreat, cutting across -his shoulders like a sharp-angled priming rod, jolting and sobering him.</p> - -<p>For an eternity now he could do nothing but wait. An eternity as -brief as a dropped heartbeat and as long as the cycle of renewal and -rebirth of worlds in the flaming vastness of space. Everything became -impersonal suddenly: the darkness of the ships' between-deck storage -compartment; the Space Station toward which the ship was traveling; the -Martian deserts he had dreamed about as a boy.</p> - -<p>The killer spoke then, for the first time. His voice rang out in the -darkness, harsh with contempt and rage. It was in some respects a -surprising voice, the voice of an educated man. But it was also a voice -that had in it an accent that Corriston had heard before in verbal -documentaries and hundreds of newsreels; in clinical case histories, -microfilm recorded, in penal institutions, on governing bodies, -and wherever men were in a position to destroy others—or perhaps -themselves. It was the voice of an unloved, unwanted man.</p> - -<p>The voice said: "You're done for, my friend. I don't know what the -Ramsey girl told you, but you came looking for me, and it's too late -now for any kind of compromise."</p> - -<p>"I wasn't looking for a deal," Corriston said. "If it's any -satisfaction to you, Miss Ramsey told me nothing. But I saw a man -killed; and I couldn't find her afterwards. I think you know what -happened to her. Knife me, if you can. I'll go down fighting."</p> - -<p>"That's easy to say. Maybe you <i>didn't</i> come looking for me. But you -know too much now to go on living. Unless you—wait a minute! You -mentioned a deal. If you're lying about the Ramsey girl and will tell -me where she is, I might not kill you."</p> - -<p>"I wasn't lying," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"Hell ... you're really asking for it."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I am."</p> - -<p>"It won't be a pleasant way to die."</p> - -<p>"Any way is unpleasant. But I'm not dead yet. Killing me may not be as -easy as you think."</p> - -<p>"It will be easy enough. This time you won't get past me."</p> - -<p>Corriston knew that the conversation was about to end unless something -unexpected happened. And he didn't think there was much chance of that. -Had he been clasping a metal tool, he would have swung hard enough to -kill with it. But he wasn't clasping anything. He was crouching low, -and suddenly he leapt straight forward into the darkness.</p> - -<p>His head collided with a bony knee and his hands went swiftly out and -around invisible ankles. He tightened his grip, half expecting the -knife to descend and bury itself in his back. But it didn't. The other -had been taken so completely by surprise that he simply went backwards, -suddenly, and with a strangled oath.</p> - -<p>Instantly Corriston was on top of him. He shifted his grip, releasing -both of the struggling man's ankles and remorselessly seizing his -wrists. He raised his right knee and brought it savagely downward, -again and again and again. A cry of pain echoed through the darkness. -The killer, crying out in torment, tried to twist free.</p> - -<p>For an instant the outcome remained uncertain, a see-saw contest of -strength. Then Corriston had the knife and the struggle was over.</p> - -<p>Corriston made a mistake then of relaxing a little. Instantly, the -killer rolled sideways, broke Corriston's grip, and was on his feet. -He did not attempt to retaliate in any way. He simply disappeared into -the darkness, breathing so loudly that Corriston could tell when the -distance between them had dwindled to the vanishing point.</p> - -<p>Corriston sat very still in the darkness, holding on tightly to the -knife. His triumph had been unexpected and complete. It had been close -to miraculous. Strange that he should be aware of that and yet feel -only a dark horror growing in his mind. Strange that he should remember -so quickly again the horror of a man gasping out his life with a -thorned barb protruding from his side.</p> - -<p>It had begun a half-hour earlier in the general passenger cabin. It had -begun with a wonder and a rejoicing.</p> - -<p>Tremendous and glittering, the Space Station had come floating up out -of the Big Dark like a golden bubble on an onrushing tidal wave. It -had hovered for an instant in the precise center of the viewscreen, -its steep, climbing trail shedding radiance in all directions. Then it -had descended vertically until it almost filled the lower half of the -screen, and finally was lost to view in a wilderness of space.</p> - -<p>When it appeared for the second time, it was larger still and its -shadow was a swiftly widening crescent blotting out the nearer stars.</p> - -<p>"There it is!" someone whispered.</p> - -<p>It had been unreasonably quiet in the general passenger cabin, and for -a moment no other sound was audible. Then the whisper was caught up and -amplified by a dozen awestruck voices. It became a murmur of amazement -and of wonder, and as it increased in volume, the screen seemed to glow -with an almost unbelievable brightness.</p> - -<p>Everyone was aware of the brightness. But how much of it was subjective -no one knew or cared. To a man in the larger darkness of space, a dead -sea bottom on Mars, or a moon-landing ship wrapped in eternal darkness -on a lonely peak in the Lunar Apennines may glow with a noonday -splendor.</p> - -<p>"They said a space station that size could never be built," David -Corriston said, leaning abruptly forward in his chair. "They quoted -reams of statistics: height above the center of the Earth in -kilometers, orbital velocity, relation of mass to maneuverability. The -experts had a field day. They went far out on a limb to convince anyone -who would listen that a station weighing thousands of tons would never -get past the blueprint stage. But the men who built it had enough -pride and confidence in human skill to achieve the impossible."</p> - -<p>The girl at Corriston's side looked startled for an instant, as though -the ironclad assurance of so young a man was as much of a surprise as -his unexpected nearness, and somehow even more disquieting older.</p> - -<p>She was certainly somewhat older than he was—about three or four -years. She was an exceptionally pretty girl, her fair hair fluffed out -from under a blue beret, her ship's lounge jacket a youth-accentuating -miracle of casual tailoring that would have looked well on a woman of -any age. She had the kind of eyes Corriston liked best of all in a -woman: longlashed, observant, and bright with glints of humor.</p> - -<p>She had the kind of mouth he liked too—a mouth which suggested that -she could be, by turns, capricious, level-headed, and audaciously -friendly with strangers without in any way inviting familiarity. -There was a certain paradoxical timidity in her gaze too. It was -manifesting itself now in an obvious reluctance to be startled too -abruptly by space engineering talk from a young man who had taken -her companionability for granted and who was obviously given to snap -judgments.</p> - -<p>She brushed back the hair on her right temple, her brown eyes upraised -to study Corriston more closely.</p> - -<p>He hoped that she would realize upon reflection that she was behaving -foolishly. He had taken a certain liberty in talking to her as he would -have talked to an old acquaintance in a long-awaited meeting of minds. -On the big screen a space station that couldn't be built was sweeping -in toward the ship with eighty-five years of unparallelled scientific -progress behind it.</p> - -<p>First had come the Earth satellites, eight of them in their neat little -orbits. They had used low-energy fuels, had kept close to the Earth, -and no one had seriously expected them to do more than record weather -information and relay radio signals. For fifteen years they could be -seen with small telescopes and even with the unaided eye on bright, -cloudless nights in both hemispheres.</p> - -<p>First had come these small, relatively unimportant artificial moons and -then, on a night in October 1972, the first space platform had been -launched. Soon the sky above the Earth was swarming with radar warning -platforms, a dozen men to operate them, and carrier-based jets equipped -with formidable atomic warheads.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, how could anyone have known that in another twenty years -interplanetary space flight would become a war-averting reality? How -could anyone have known that by the year 2007 there would be human -settlements on Mars and by the year 2022 the actual transportation to -Mars of city-building materials?</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>2</h2> - - -<p>Corriston was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He wished that the girl -would say something instead of just continuing to stare at him. She -seemed to be interested in his uniform. She appeared to be gazing at -him interrogatively, as if she wanted to know more about him before -promising anything.</p> - -<p>He wondered what her unconscious purpose was. Did she see in him -the quiet, determined type who was all set to accomplish something -important. Or was she regretting he wasn't the hard-living, cynical -type who had been everywhere and done everything?</p> - -<p>Well, one way to find out was to be himself: a man average in every -way, but with a hard core of idealism in his nature, a creative mind -and enough independence and self-assurance to give a good account of -himself in any struggle which brought his central beliefs under fire -or placed them in long-range jeopardy.</p> - -<p>And so Corriston suddenly found himself talking about the Station again.</p> - -<p>"Not many people have grasped the importance of it yet," he said. "One -station will service our needs, instead of fifty-seven, one tremendous -central terminal and re-fueling depot for <i>all</i> of the ships. Do you -realize what that could mean?"</p> - -<p>Abruptly there was a startling warmth in the girl's eyes, an -unmistakable look of interest and encouragement.</p> - -<p>"Just what could it mean?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Any kind of steady growth across the years leads to centralization, to -bigness. And that bigness becomes time-hallowed and magnified out of -all proportion to its original significance. The Space Station is no -exception. It started with the primitive Earth satellites and branched -out into fifty-seven larger stations. Now it's tremendous, a single -central station that can impose its influence in ship clearance matters -with an almost unanswerable finality."</p> - -<p>A shadow had come into the girl's eyes. "But not completely without -checks and balances. The Earth Federation can challenge its supremacy -at any point."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and I'm glad that the challenge remains a factor to be reckoned -with. As matters stand now the Station's prestige can't be implemented -with what might well become the iron hand of an intolerable tyranny. -As matters stand, the Station is actually a big step forward. People -once talked of centralization as if it were some kind of indecent -human bogey. It isn't at all. It's simply a fluid means to an end, -a necessary commitment if a society is to achieve greatness. If the -authority behind the Station respects scientific truth and human -dignity—if it remains empirically minded—I shall serve it to the best -of my ability. No one knows for sure whether what is good outbalances -what is bad in any human institution, or any human being. A man can -only give the best of himself to what he believes in."</p> - -<p>"Sorry to interrupt," an amused voice said, "but the captain wants -you to join him in a last-minute celebration: a toast, a press -photograph—that sort of nonsense. A six hour trip, and he hasn't even -been introduced to you. But if you don't appear at his table in ten -minutes he'll throw the book at me."</p> - -<p>Corriston looked up in surprise at the big man confronting them. He had -approached so unobtrusively that for an instant Corriston was angry; -but only for an instant. When he took careful stock of the fellow his -resentment evaporated. There was a cordiality about him which could not -have been counterfeited. It reached from the breadth of his smile to -his gray eyes puckered in amusement. He was really big physically, in -a wholly genial and relaxed way, and his voice was that of a man who -could walk up to a bar, pay a bill and leave an everlasting impression -of hearty good nature behind him.</p> - -<p>"Well, young lady?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I'm not particularly keen about the idea, Jim, but if the captain has -actually iced the champagne, it would be a shame to disappoint him."</p> - -<p>Corriston was aware that his companion was getting to her feet. The -interruption had been unexpected, but much to his surprise he found -himself accepting it without rancor. If he lost her for a few moments -he could quickly enough find her again; and somehow he felt convinced -that the big man was not a torch-carrying admirer.</p> - -<p>"I'll have to stop off in the ladies' lounge first," she said. She -had opened her vanity case and was making a swift inventory of its -contents. "Two shades of lipstick, but no powder! Oh, well."</p> - -<p>She smiled at the big man and then at Corriston, gesturing slightly as -she did so.</p> - -<p>"We've just been discussing the Station," she said. "This gentleman -hasn't told me his name—"</p> - -<p>"Lieutenant David Corriston," Corriston said quickly. "My interest in -the Station is tied in with my job. I've just been assigned to it in -the very modest capacity of ship's inspection officer, recruit status."</p> - -<p>The big man stared at Corriston more intently, his eyes kindling with -a sudden increase of interest. "Say, I wonder if you could spare -me a few minutes. When my friends ask me I'd like to be able to -talk intelligently about the terrific headaches the research people -must have experienced right from the start. The expenditure of fuel -alone...."</p> - -<p>"See you in the Captain's cabin, Jim," the girl said.</p> - -<p>She moved out from her chair, her expression slightly constrained. Was -it just imagination, or had the big man's immoderate expansiveness -grated on her and brought a look of displeasure to her young face? -Corriston couldn't be sure, and his brow remained furrowed as he -watched her cross the passenger cabin and disappear into the ladies' -lounge.</p> - -<p>"I'm Jim Clakey," the big man said.</p> - -<p>Corriston reseated himself, a troubled indecision still apparent in his -stare. Then gradually he found himself relaxing. He nodded up at the -big man. "Sit down, Mr. Clakey," he said. "Ask me anything you want. -Security imposes some pretty rigid restrictions, but I'll let you know -when you start treading on classified ground."</p> - -<p>Clakey sat down and crossed his long legs. He was silent for a moment. -Then he said: "You know who she is, of course."</p> - -<p>Corriston shook his head. "I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea."</p> - -<p>"She isn't traveling under her real name only because her father is a -very sensible and cautious man. You'd be cautious too, perhaps, if you -were Stephen Ramsey."</p> - -<p>Clakey's gaze had traveled to the ladies' lounge, and for an instant he -seemed unaware of Corriston's incredulous stare.</p> - -<p>"You mean I've actually been sitting here talking to Stephen Ramsey's -daughter?"</p> - -<p>"That's right," Clakey said, turning to grin amiably at Corriston. -"And now you're talking to her personal bodyguard. I'm not surprised -you didn't recognize her, though; very few people do. She doesn't like -to have her picture taken. Her dad wouldn't object to that kind of -publicity particularly, but she's even more cautious than he is."</p> - -<p>The door of the ladies' lounge opened and two young women came out. -They were laughing and talking with great animation and were quickly -lost to view as other passengers changed their position in front of the -viewscreen.</p> - -<p>The door remained visible, however—a rectangle of shining whiteness -only slightly encroached upon by dark blue drapes. Corriston found -himself staring at it as his mind dwelt on the startling implications -of Clakey's almost unbelievable statement.</p> - -<p>"Biggest man on Mars," Clakey was saying. "Cornered uranium; froze out -the original settlers. They're threatening violence, but their hands -are tied. Everything was done legally. Ramsey lives in a garrisoned -fortress and they can't get within twenty miles of him. He's a damned -scoundrel with tremendous vision and foresight."</p> - -<p>Corriston suddenly realized that he had made a serious psychological -blunder in sizing up Clakey. The man was a blabbermouth. True, -Corriston's uniform was a character recommendation which might -have justified candor to a moderate extent. But Clakey was talking -outrageously out of turn. He was becoming confidential about matters -he had no right to discuss with anyone on such short acquaintance. -Corriston suddenly realized that Clakey was slightly drunk.</p> - -<p>"Look here," Corriston said. "You're talking like a fool. Do you know -what you're saying?"</p> - -<p>"Sure I know. Miss Ramsey is a golden girl. And I'm her bodyguard ... -important trust ... sop to a man's egoism."</p> - -<p>An astonishing thing happened then. Clakey fell silent and remained -uncommunicative for five full minutes. Corriston had no desire to -start him talking again. He was appalled and incredulous. He was -debating the advisability of getting up with a frozen stare and a firm -determination to take himself elsewhere when the crazy, loose-tongued -fool leapt unexpectedly to his feet.</p> - -<p>"She's taking too long!" he exclaimed. "It just isn't like her. She'd -never keep the captain waiting."</p> - -<p>As he spoke, another woman came out of the ladies' lounge. She was -small, dark, very pretty, and she seemed a little embarrassed when she -saw how intently Clakey was staring at her. Then a middle-aged woman -came out, with a finely-modeled face, and a second, younger woman -with haggard eyes and a sallow complexion who was in all respects the -opposite of attractive.</p> - -<p>"She's been in there for fifteen minutes," Clakey said, starting toward -the lounge.</p> - -<p>"It takes a good many women twice that long to apply makeup properly," -Corriston pointed out. "I just don't see—"</p> - -<p>"You don't know her," Clakey said, impatiently. "I may have to ask one -of those women to go in after her."</p> - -<p>"But why? You can't seriously believe she's in any danger. We both saw -her go into the lounge. She made the decision on the spur of the moment -and no one could have known about it in advance. No one followed her -in. You were sitting right here watching the door."</p> - -<p>But Clakey was already advancing across the cabin. He was reeling a -little, and a dull flush had mounted to his cheekbones. He seemed -genuinely alarmed. Corriston was about to follow him when something -bright flashed through the air with a faint swishing sound.</p> - -<p>A startled cry burst from Clakey's lips. He clutched at his side, -staggered, and half-swung about, a look of incredulous horror in his -eyes.</p> - -<p>Corriston's mouth went dry. He stood very still, watching Clakey lose -all control over his legs. The change in the stricken man's expression -was ghastly. His cheeks had gone dead white, and now, as Corriston -stared, a spasm convulsed his features, twisting them into a horrible, -unnatural caricature of a human face—a rigidly contorted mask with a -blanched, wide-angled mouth and bulging eyes.</p> - -<p>A passenger saw him and screamed. His knees had given way and his huge -frame seemed to be coming apart at the joints. He straightened out on -the deck, jerking his head spasmodically, propelling himself backwards -by his elbows. Almost as if with conscious intent, his body arched -itself, sank level with the floor, then arched itself again.</p> - -<p>It was as though all of his muscles and nerves were protesting the -violence that had been done to him, and were seeking by muscular -contractions alone to dislodge the stiff, thorned horror protruding -from his flesh.</p> - -<p>He went limp and the barbed shaft ceased to quiver. Corriston had a -nerve-shattering glimpse of a swiftly spreading redness just above -Clakey's right hipbone. The entire barb turned red, as if its feathery -spines had acquired a sudden, unnatural affinity for human blood.</p> - -<p>Corriston started forward, then changed his mind. Several passengers -had moved quickly to Clakey's side and were bending above him. Someone -called out: "Get a doctor!"</p> - -<p>Corriston turned abruptly and strode toward the ladies' lounge. -Brushing aside such scruples as he ordinarily would have entertained, -he threw open the door and went inside.</p> - -<p>He called out: "Miss Ramsey?" When he received no answer he searched -the lounge thoroughly. There was no one there. He was thinking fast -now, desperately fast. He hadn't seen her come out and neither had -Clakey. He'd seen four women come out: three young women and an elderly -one. None of them faintly resembled the girl he'd been talking to.</p> - -<p>The first young woman had emerged almost immediately. He remembered -how intently Clakey had been watching the door. Clakey had sat down to -discuss the Station with him, and in less than two minutes the first -young lady had emerged. Then neither of them had taken their eyes from -the door for five or six minutes. The second young lady had apparently -known someone in the crowd. She had seemed annoyed by Clakey's -persistent stare and had disappeared quickly. The elderly woman had -looked her age. Her walk, her carriage, the lines of her face had borne -the unmistakable stamp of genteel aging, and the dignity inseparable -from it. The last woman had been the drab creature.</p> - -<p>Corriston had a poor memory for faces and he knew that he couldn't -count on recognizing any of them—except perhaps the elderly woman—if -he saw them again.</p> - -<p>It was good that he could smile, even at his own inanities. It relieved -tension. Almost instantly the smile vanished. His aspect became that -of a man in deadly danger on the brink of a hundred foot precipice, a -man completely in the dark and yet grimly determined not to go over the -edge or take a single step in the wrong direction.</p> - -<p>Where, he asked himself, do women ordinarily go when they vanish into -thin air? Wasn't it pretty well established that ghosts were likely to -follow the path of least resistance and fulfill obligations entered -into in the flesh?</p> - -<p>The captain's cabin! The captain would be disappointed if she failed to -appear at least briefly at his table; and she had promised to do so. -It was a wild, premeditated assault on the rational, but putting the -irrational aspect of it aside, it was also realistic and reasonable. -If by some incredible miracle she had eluded Clakey's vigilance and -actually slipped from the lounge, she would almost certainly have gone -straight to the captain's cabin.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>3</h2> - - -<p>Corriston left the ladies' lounge faster than he had entered it. -He shut the door firmly and stood for an instant staring at the -passengers who had gathered in an even tighter knot around Clakey and -were making it difficult for an alarmed young ship's doctor to get to -him. He was quite sure in his own mind that Clakey would not need the -assistance of a doctor.</p> - -<p>Then he turned and headed for the captain's cabin. Anyone could have -gotten in. The door was ajar and there was no one guarding it. He threw -the door wide and everything was just as he'd expected to find it: It -was completely empty.</p> - -<p>No guests at all to welcome Corriston to the big, empty cabin. Then he -saw that there was another door opposite.</p> - -<p>Corriston was getting scared, really scared. There was an odd, -detached, whimsical feeling at the surface of his mind, but it cloaked -something distinctly sinister. He had more than half-expected the -captain to be absent from his cabin. But something about the silence -and the emptiness chilled him to the core of his being.</p> - -<p>With an effort he shook the feeling off. He didn't know where the inner -door led to. He hesitated for an instant, realizing that the mere -existence of a second door could complicate his search to the point -of futility. If it led to a second cabin—well and good. But if it -didn't....</p> - -<p>He strained his ears to catch the sound of voices. There were no -voices. He could have simply crossed to the door and looked beyond it. -But the state of his nerves, and an odd habit he had of being precise -and cautious under tension, made him explore the other possibilities -first.</p> - -<p>The door might conceivably be a trap. A trap does not have to be -contrived in advance with some clearly defined purpose in mind. -Circumstances can take a door or a window and turn it into a trap. A -glove or a weapon left lying about can be picked up by an innocent man -and snare him most damnably by seeming to point up his guilt.</p> - -<p>What purpose did the inner door serve? Did it open on a corridor -leading back to the general passenger cabin? If it did, it wouldn't be -a trap; it would simply have "blind alley" stamped all over it.</p> - -<p>Corriston suddenly realized that he was succumbing to a crazy kind of -inaction. The door could lead almost anywhere, and if he had any sense -at all he'd go through it fast.</p> - -<p>Go through it he did, in six long strides. He'd been right about one -thing—the blind alley part. He found himself, in not quite total -darkness, in what was unquestionably an intership passageway. There was -just light enough for him to make out the shadowy walls on both sides -of him. Rather they were like metal bulkheads that gave off just enough -reflected light for him to see by.</p> - -<p>He wouldn't have considered ten or twelve seconds spent with a pocket -flash a waste of time. But he had no pocket flash. The best he could do -was stretch out both of his arms to determine just how far apart the -bulkheads were. They were less than six feet apart.</p> - -<p>Well, no sense in measuring the walls. A girl he'd talked to and liked -instantly had vanished in a dark world, and he knew now that there was -more than mere liking in the way he felt about her. He didn't dare ask -himself how much more, not in so confined a space and with his chances -of finding her again dwindling with every second that passed.</p> - -<p>The passageway ended in a blank wall, less than forty feet from its -beginning. Corriston saw the wall and was advancing toward it when he -suddenly realized that the deck itself wasn't continuous. In his path, -and almost directly underfoot, a companionway entrance yawned, so -unexpectedly close that another short step would have sent him plunging -into it. He saw the faint light reflected on its circumference and -halted just in time to avoid a possibly fatal fall.</p> - -<p>He knelt and stared down into a spiraling web of darkness. He could see -a faint glimmer of light on metal and knew that he was bending above -either a circular staircase or a companionway ladder. It turned out -to be a staircase. Down it he went, moving cautiously, holding on to -the supporting guide rail as he descended deeper and deeper into the -darkness.</p> - -<p>The darkness became almost absolute when the stairs ended. For a -moment, at least, what appeared to be utter blackness engulfed him. -Then gradually his vision became more effective. He could make out -the faint outlines of stationary objects, of depths beyond depths, of -crisscrossing lines and angles.</p> - -<p>In utter darkness the glint of metal often seemed to draw the eyes like -a magnet, to make itself known even without illumination. But there -seemed to be a faint glow far off somewhere. He couldn't be sure, but -light there should have been if—as he more than half-suspected—he was -in one of the ship's below-deck ballast or storage compartments.</p> - -<p>The deck beneath his feet was straight and level and cluttered with no -impediments. He moved forward warily, testing every step until a wall -of metal stopped him. He halted abruptly, felt along the barrier and -became aware that it was studded with small bolts and was just a little -corrugated. Exhibit A: one supporting metal beam, rough and slightly -uneven in texture. Abruptly he reached the end of it and found himself -underway again, still moving cautiously to avoid unseen pitfalls. He -had not progressed more than a dozen feet when he heard the scrape of -footsteps other than his own, and someone moved up close to him and -blocked his way in the darkness.</p> - -<p>For an instant the wild thought went through his mind that the someone -was the captain. But he had seen and talked with the Captain and that -self-contained, blunt-spoken man wasn't nearly as big physically as the -path-blocker seemed to be.</p> - -<p>The someone did not speak. But Corriston could sense the enmity flowing -from him, the utter refusal to budge an inch, the determination to make -his nearness a deadly threat in itself. Then the someone moved back a -step. The far-off light could hardly have been an illusion, because for -the barest instant Corriston could dimly make out the huge bulk of the -man and the glint of the knife in his hand.</p> - -<p>Two big men in the space of half an hour! The first had ceased to draw -breath and the second was his killer. Corriston was suddenly sure of -it. He knew it instinctively.</p> - -<p>Then began the struggle which had almost robbed Corriston of his life, -the cruel, one-sided, impossible-to-win struggle in total darkness.</p> - -<p>And Corriston had won it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Now almost in disbelief, Corriston looked down at the knife he had -taken from the loser, telling himself that it was impossible that so -much could have happened in so short a time and that he could still be -alive at the end of it.</p> - -<p>The wound in his shoulder was no longer painless, but it had ceased to -bleed profusely, and his exploring fingers convinced him that the knife -had severed no more than a superficial ligament. He strained his ears -in the sudden quiet, listening for a possible return of his adversary. -He did not think that the defeated man would attempt a second attack. -But there was no telling what he might or might not do. Probably he'd -ascended the companionway by now and was mingling with the other -passengers.</p> - -<p>The final link in Corriston's search had snapped. Even while battling -for his life, he had felt close to the vanished girl. The man who -had killed Clakey had been at least a link, a link that, short of -Corriston's total defeat, might have been seized upon with physical -violence and made to yield up its secret.</p> - -<p>Now Corriston found himself wondering if the defeated man had been -telling the truth. Had the link been non-existent from the first? Was -the killer as completely in the dark as he was as to the whereabouts -of Ramsey's daughter?</p> - -<p>It was difficult to believe that the man had been lying. Despite his -hatred and denials he <i>had</i> offered Corriston a deal: "<i>Tell me where -the girl is and I may not kill you.</i>" The deal part had been a lie, of -course. He would have gone on and attempted to kill Corriston anyway. -But his plea for information, that tentative, cunning feeler in the -dark had seemed genuine.</p> - -<p>What had been the man's purpose in killing Clakey? Why had Clakey been -murdered in the general passenger cabin, in plain view of the other -passengers? Because the killer had seen the girl go into the lounge and -thought she was still there? And because he wanted free and instant -access to her, with Clakey out of the way? It was the only answer that -made sense.</p> - -<p>The killer must have known that Clakey was in Ramsey's employ and had -been guarding Ramsey's daughter. Why then had he been unable to take -advantage of his crime in any way? Apparently neither he nor a possible -confederate had succeeded in what almost certainly had been a pattern -of violence directed at Ramsey through his daughter—a plan obviously -worked out in advance, ready to be put into operation the instant a -promising opportunity presented itself.</p> - -<p>Into Corriston's mind flashed an ugly picture of the girl pinioned by -strong arms and with a handkerchief pressed to her face. She had ceased -to struggle and was being spirited quickly away. The picture became -even more intolerable when he saw her held captive in a cabin difficult -to locate, at the mercy of men without compassion.</p> - -<p>But for some reason he'd never cease to be thankful for, it hadn't -happened that way. Something had gone wrong with the plan, and the -killer didn't even know when and why and how she had vanished. Sharing -Corriston's frustration, he had been struggling simply to save himself, -to keep Corriston from identifying and exposing him. The fury he'd -displayed was not difficult to understand.</p> - -<p>Corriston found himself becoming more confident again, less dominated -by despair. The change in his mood surprised him but he seized upon -it gratefully and started building on it. There was only one logical -next move. He must find the captain quickly and enlist his help. He -must take the master of the ship fully into his confidence. With every -gift of persuasion at his command, he must make the captain see how the -danger of Ramsey's daughter was mounting and would continue to mount -with every minute that she remained unfound.</p> - -<p>He still felt dizzy, and his head was aching a little, but he moved -quickly through the darkness, his faculties heightened by an intensity -of purpose which enabled him to find the companionway without colliding -with obstacles or taking a wrong turn. Up the stairway he climbed, -still clutching the knife, prepared for a possible second encounter -with its original owner.</p> - -<p>An attempt to regain the knife by trickery and stealth would not have -surprised him. In fact, it was not at all difficult for him to picture -a silent form flattened against the stair-rail, waiting for just the -right moment to come hurtling toward him out of the darkness. For a -moment, as he ascended, the strain became almost unendurable. Then the -darkness dissolved above him, and he was advancing toward the captain's -cabin through the narrow passageway which he had spanned with his arms -spread wide.</p> - -<p>He did not stop to span it this time. He emerged into the cabin and -stood for an instant blinking in the sudden light. The cabin was still -deserted. It was anybody's guess where the captain had gone or when he -would be returning, and Corriston decided not to wait. He walked to the -door, opened it and stepped out into the general passenger cabin.</p> - -<p>No one saw him immediately. There were several passengers fairly close -to him, but they were being attentive for the moment to the words and -gestures of a tall, dignified looking man with observant brown eyes, -a ruddy complexion, and gold braid on his shoulders. The tall man was -Captain John Sanders.</p> - -<p>"I'd be a hypocrite and a liar if I said there was no justification -for alarm," Sanders was saying, in a voice loud enough to carry to -where Corriston was standing. "Strict regulations prescribe that sort -of thing. But it's no way for a captain to keep the respect of his -passengers."</p> - -<p>Corriston felt himself stepping forward before he even thought about -it. But he halted abruptly when the captain said: "There's a murderer -on the loose aboard this ship. You may as well accept that fact right -now. Each of you has to be on his guard. It's only right and proper -that you should keep your eyes and ears open, and <i>stay</i> worried. If -you do, our chances of catching up with him before the ship berths -should be reasonably good."</p> - -<p>The captain paused, then went on quickly: "We'll get him eventually. -You can be sure of that. He'll never get past the inspection each of -you will have to undergo when we reach the Station. But if we catch him -before we reach the Station, you'll be spared an investigative ordeal -distinctly on the rugged side."</p> - -<p>Corriston was suddenly aware that he was being stared at. Everyone was -staring at him.</p> - -<p>"My God!" the Captain cried out, staring the hardest of all. "Where did -you get that wound? Who attacked you? And what were you doing in my -cabin?"</p> - -<p>Corriston walked up to the Captain and said in a voice that trembled -a little. "May I talk to you privately, sir? What I have to say won't -take long."</p> - -<p>"Why not?" Sanders demanded. "That uniform you're wearing makes it -mandatory. All right, come back into my cabin."</p> - -<p>They went back into the cabin. The captain shut the door and turned to -face Corriston with a shocked concern in his stare.</p> - -<p>"You've had it rough, Lieutenant. I can see that."</p> - -<p>"Plenty rough," Corriston conceded. "But it's not myself I'm worried -about."</p> - -<p>"Did you know that a man has just been murdered?"</p> - -<p>"I know," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"With a poisoned barb. A Martian barb. It's a plant found only on Mars. -We have him stretched out on a table in the sick bay now. But he isn't -sick; he's a corpse. Tell me something, Lieutenant, did you just tangle -with the man who did it?"</p> - -<p>"I think so," Corriston said. "In fact, I'd stake my commission on it."</p> - -<p>"I see. Well, you'd better tell me about it. Tell me everything."</p> - -<p>Corriston told him.</p> - -<p>The captain was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "But we've -no Miss Ramsey on the passenger list. And I certainly didn't invite -her to drink a toast with me in my cabin. Are you sure of your facts, -Lieutenant?"</p> - -<p>Corriston's jaw fell open. He stared at the captain in stunned -disbelief. "Of course I'm sure. Why should I lie to you?"</p> - -<p>"How should I know? It's unfair to ask me that. If Ramsey's daughter -was on this ship, you can rest assured I'd have known about it. After -all, Lieutenant—"</p> - -<p>"But she <i>was</i> on board and you <i>didn't</i> know. Isn't that obvious? -Look, she was traveling incognito. The trip to the Station takes only -five hours. Perhaps in so short a trip—"</p> - -<p>"No 'perhaps' about it. I'd have known."</p> - -<p>"But she <i>is</i> on board, I tell you. I talked to her. I talked to -Clakey. Don't make me go over the whole thing again. We've got to find -her. Ramsey's enemies would stop at nothing. I'm afraid to think of -what they might do to his daughter!"</p> - -<p>"Nothing will happen to his daughter. She's on Earth right this minute -in her father's house, as safe as any girl that wealthy can ever be. -Lieutenant, listen to me. I've got a great deal of respect for that -uniform you're wearing. Don't make me lose it. When you come to me with -a story like that—"</p> - -<p>"All right. You don't believe me. Will you check the passenger list, -just to be sure?"</p> - -<p>"I'll do more than that, Lieutenant. I'll assemble all of the -passengers and check them off personally. I'll give you an opportunity -to look them over while I'm doing it. Later you can ask them as many -questions as you wish. There'll be a murderer among them, but that -shouldn't disturb you too much. You've already met. Perhaps you can -identify him for us. Ask each of the men who made a non-existent Miss -Ramsey disappear and the one who turns pale will be our man."</p> - -<p>Suddenly the captain reddened. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't mean -to be sarcastic. But a murder on my ship naturally upsets me. I'll be -completely frank with you. There's a very remote possibility that Miss -Ramsey actually <i>is</i> on board without my knowledge. She hasn't had much -publicity. I believe I've only seen one photograph of her, one taken -several years ago. But you've got to remember that a captain is usually -the first to get wind of such things. It comes to him by a kind of -grapevine. She's a golden girl—actually the goldenest golden girl on -Earth."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>4</h2> - - -<p>Now Corriston was in a steel-walled cell and the captain's voice seemed -only a far-off echo sympathizing with him.</p> - -<p>And it was an echo, for the captain was gone and he would probably -never see him again. It was all very simple—that part of it—all very -clear. The captain had faithfully kept his word. The captain hadn't let -him down. But any man can end up a prisoner when everyone disbelieves -him and he has no way of proving that he is telling the truth.</p> - -<p>It was hard to believe that a day and a night had passed, and that -the Captain <i>had</i> kept his word and gone ahead with the roll call. It -was even harder to believe that he, Corriston, was no longer on the -ship, but in a sanity cell on the Space Station, and that the ship was -traveling back toward Earth.</p> - -<p>He shut his eyes, and the events of the past thirty hours unrolled -before him with a nightmare clarity, and yet with all of the monstrous -distortions which a nightmare must of necessity evoke.</p> - -<p>Darkness and time and space. And closer at hand the frowns of -forthright, honest men appalled by mental abnormality in a new recruit, -an officer with a steel-lock determination to keep the truth securely -guarded and safe from all distortion.</p> - -<p>There had come the tap on his shoulder and a stern voice saying: "You'd -better come with us, Lieutenant." He had just told the captain the -whole horrible story. He had not been believed.</p> - -<p>"Tell me about it," said the recruit in the bunk opposite Corriston. -"It will help you to talk. Remember, we're not prisoners. We mustn't -think of ourselves as prisoners. We can go out and exercise. We can -walk around the Station for a half-hour or so. We've only got to -promise we'll come back and lock ourselves in. They trust us. It could -happen to anyone.</p> - -<p>"Space-shock. Not a fancy word at all. I'm getting over it; you've a -certain distance to go. Or so they say. But we're still in very much -the same boat and talking always helps. Talk to me, Lieutenant, the way -you did last night."</p> - -<p>Corriston looked at the pale youth opposite him. He had close-cropped -hair and friendly blue eyes, and he seemed a likeable enough lad. -He was Corriston's junior by several years. But there was an aura -of neuroticism about him that made Corriston uneasy. But hell, why -shouldn't he get it off his chest. Talking just <i>might</i> help.</p> - -<p>"It's true," Corriston said. "Every word of it."</p> - -<p>"I believe you, Lieutenant. But quite obviously <i>they</i> didn't. Why -not strike a compromise. Say I'm one-tenth wrong in believing you and -they're nine-tenths right in not believing you. That means there may be -some little quirk in what happened to you that doesn't quite fit into -the normal pattern. Put that down to space-shock—a mild case of it. -I'm not saying you have it, but you could have it."</p> - -<p>The kid was grinning now, and Corriston had to like him.</p> - -<p>"Okay," he said. "You can believe this or not. The captain lined all -of the passengers up and checked them off by their cabin numbers. I -<i>didn't</i> see her. Do you understand? She just wasn't there! I thought -I recognized two of the women who had come out of the ladies' lounge, -but I couldn't even be sure of that. One of the two denied ever having -stepped inside the lounge, and the other was vague about it."</p> - -<p>"I see."</p> - -<p>"The captain really sailed into me for a moment, lost his temper -completely. 'A fine officer you are, Lieutenant. It's painful to be -on the same ship with the kind of officers the training schools turn -out when the Station finds itself short of personnel. Is the Station -planning to trust ships' clearance to hallucinated personnel?</p> - -<p>"'All right, you talked to a girl—some girl. She didn't even tell you -she was Ramsey's daughter; Clakey told you. And he's dead. Not only -is he dead, he wasn't listed on the passenger list as Clakey at all. -His name was Henry Ewers. I don't know what you believed, Lieutenant. -I don't care what you think you saw. You tangled with someone and he -stabbed you. <i>He</i> was real enough ... obviously the man who killed -Ewers. But you let him get away, so even that isn't too much to your -credit.'"</p> - -<p>"If I had been you," the kid said, "I've had knocked him down."</p> - -<p>"No." For the first time Corriston smiled. "To tell you the truth, the -captain is a good guy. He's one of those blunt, moody, terribly human -individuals you encounter occasionally, men who speak their minds on -all occasions and are instantly sorry they did. You have to like them -even when they seem to insult you."</p> - -<p>"He made up for it then?"</p> - -<p>"I'll say he did. He knew that when we landed the officials would be -breathing right down my neck. He wanted to give me every chance. So he -kept the officials away from me until I'd convinced myself Ramsey's -daughter just couldn't be on board.</p> - -<p>"He let me look at every piece of luggage that was taken off the ship. -He had some cargo to unload and he let me inspect that too, every -crate. Most of the crates were too small to conceal a drugged and -unconscious girl—or any girl for that matter. The ones that weren't, -he opened for me and let me look inside.</p> - -<p>"He let me watch every passenger leave the ship. Then, when all of -the passengers had left, he stationed officers in the three main -passageways and I went through the ship from bow to stern. I went into -every stateroom and into every intership compartment. No one could -have kept just a little ahead of me or behind me, dodging back into a -compartment the instant I'd vacated it. They would have been instantly -spotted by one of the officers.</p> - -<p>"The Captain wasn't to blame at all for what happened later ... when I -tried to convince the commanding officers here that I was completely -sane."</p> - -<p>"I see. He must have really liked you."</p> - -<p>"I guess he did. And I liked him."</p> - -<p>The kid nodded. "And the murderer's still at large. That makes it rough -for the sixty odd passengers they're holding in quarantine. How long do -you think they'll hold them in the Big Cage?"</p> - -<p>"As long as they can. They'll keep them under close guard and increase -their vigilance every time there's a suspicious move in the cage. -They'll be screened perhaps a dozen times. But most of them are -influential people. Most of them have booked passage on the Mars' run -liner that's due here next week. They can't hold them forever. They'd -start pulling wires on Earth by short wave and there'd be a legislative -uproar.</p> - -<p>"Suppose they refuse to let them send messages?"</p> - -<p>"They won't refuse. I'm sure of that."</p> - -<p>The kid was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said: "Tell me more about -Ramsey. Just what do you think is happening on Mars?"</p> - -<p>"No one knows exactly what is happening," Corriston said. "But to the -best of my knowledge the overall picture is pretty ugly. The original -settlers have their backs to the wall with a vengeance. Now there are -armed guards at their throats. Ramsey has taken over. He has resorted -to legal trickery to freeze them out.</p> - -<p>"There are perhaps fifty important uranium claims on Mars and Ramsey -has consolidated all of the holdings into a single major enterprise. To -say that he's cornered the market in uranium would be understating the -case. He has taken possession by right of seizure, and the colonists -can't get to him. They're living a hand-to-mouth existence while he -lives in a heavily guarded stronghold behind three miles of electrified -defenses."</p> - -<p>The kid nodded again. "Yes, that's the picture when you unscramble -it, I guess. But most of it is kept hidden from the general run of -tourists."</p> - -<p>"Naturally. Ramsey has the power to keep it under wraps."</p> - -<p>"Do you think the colonists had anything to do with Clakey's murder -and Miss Ramsey's disappearance? Or I guess I should say Henry Ewers' -murder."</p> - -<p>"Clakey, Ewers—his name doesn't matter. I'm convinced that he was Miss -Ramsey's bodyguard."</p> - -<p>"But you haven't answered my question."</p> - -<p>"I can't answer it with any certainty. Did the colonists hire a killer -and book passage for him on the ship? It's difficult to believe that -the kind of men who colonized Mars would resort to murder."</p> - -<p>"But there are a few scoundrels in every large group of men. And what -if they became so desperate they felt they had to fight fire with fire?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I'd thought of that. It may be the answer."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>5</h2> - - -<p>A half-hour later the kid was taken away and Corriston found himself -completely alone. There are few events in human life more unnerving -than the totally unexpected removal of a sympathetic listener when dark -thoughts have taken possession of a man.</p> - -<p>The kid wasn't forcibly removed from the cell. He left without -protesting and no rough hands were laid on him, no physical violence -employed. But he was not at all eager to leave, and if the guards who -came for him had eyed him less severely, his attitude might have been -the opposite of complacent.</p> - -<p>"Sorry, kid," one of them said. "Your discharge has been postponed. -Somebody on the psycho-staff wants to give you another test. I guess -you didn't interpret the ink blots right."</p> - -<p>He looked at Corriston and shook his head sympathetically. "It's tough, -I know. Once you're here waiting to be released can wear you down. I -shouldn't be saying this, but it stands to reason it might even slow -up your recovery a bit. It's easy to blame the docs, but you've got to -try to understand their side of it. They have to make sure."</p> - -<p>When the door clanged shut behind the kid, Corriston crossed to his -cot, sat down, and cradled his head in his arms. The fact that he was -still free to go outside and walk around the Station was no comfort -at all. That kind of freedom could be worse than total confinement. -He could never hope to escape from observation. The guards were under -orders to watch him, and wherever he turned there'd be eyes boring into -the back of his neck.</p> - -<p>On Earth a man under surveillance could duck quickly into a side -street, run and weave about, and emerge on a broad avenue in the midst -of a crowd. He could walk calmly then for a block or two, and turn in -at a bar. He could drown his troubles in drink.</p> - -<p>There were bars on the Station, of course. But Corriston knew that if -he tried to mingle with officers of his own rank on the upper levels, -he'd quickly enough find himself drinking alone. He could picture the -off-duty personnel edging quickly and resentfully away from him, as -though he'd suddenly appeared in their midst with a big, yawning hole -in his skull.</p> - -<p>Suddenly utter weariness overcame Corriston. He loosened his belt, -elevated his legs, and relaxed on the cot.</p> - -<p>He was asleep almost before he could close his eyes. How long he -slept he had no way of knowing. He only knew that he was awakened by -a sound—the strangest sound a man could hear in space. It was as if -a gnat or a mosquito had developed a sudden, avaricious liking for -his blood-type and was determined to gorge itself to bursting at his -expense.</p> - -<p>The buzzing seemed to go on interminably as he hovered between sleeping -and waking. On and on and on, with absolutely no letup. Then, abruptly, -it ceased. There was a faint swishing sound and something solid thudded -into the hardwood directly above him.</p> - -<p>With a startled cry Corriston leapt from the cot, caught the iron edge -of the bed-guard to keep from falling, and stared up in horror at the -shining expanse of wall space overhead.</p> - -<p>The cell was in almost total darkness. But from the barred window -opposite, a faint glimmer of light penetrated in a diffuse arc, just -enough light to enable him to make out the quivering stem of the barb.</p> - -<p>It <i>was</i> a barb. This was so beyond any possibility of doubt. It had -lodged in the hardwood scarcely a foot above his cot and it was still -quivering.</p> - -<p>Cold sweat broke out on Corriston's palms as he realized how close -death had come, and how almost miraculous had been his escape. Had he -raised himself to slap at the "mosquito" the barb could just as easily -have buried itself in his skull.</p> - -<p>Corriston hesitated for an instant, his eyes on the barred window and -the faint glow beyond. Then his gaze passed to the wall switch. He -decided against switching on the light immediately. He stooped low and -moved quickly to the window, taking care to keep his head well below -the sill.</p> - -<p>For a moment he listened, his every nerve alert. There was no stir of -movement in the darkness beyond the sill, nothing at all to indicate -that someone was crouching there.</p> - -<p>Finally, with an almost foolhardy recklessness, he raised his head and -stared out between the bars. He could see right across to the wall -opposite. The wall was less than eight feet away, and the space between -the wall and his cell appeared to be unoccupied. This did not surprise -him.</p> - -<p>It was utterly silly to think that a man intent on willful murder would -have lingered for any great length of time in so narrow a space. After -having shot his bolt, his immediate concern would have been to get away -as quickly as possible.</p> - -<p>No, definitely, the man was gone, and if he had more barbs to release -he would choose another time and place.</p> - -<p>Even then Corriston did not switch on the light. He had no particular -desire to examine the wood-embedded barb in a bright light. He could -see it clearly enough from where he stood. It was exactly like the barb -which had sealed the lips of that blabbermouth Clakey.</p> - -<p>Corriston went back to his cot and sat down. He told himself it would -be highly dangerous to leave the cell and give the killer another -chance. He had saved himself by refusing to slap a non-existent -mosquito. But in the shadows of the Station there would be no -mosquitoes—non-existent or otherwise. The killer would simply crouch -in shadows, await his chance, and take careful aim.</p> - -<p>What he had to do was find Miss Ramsey, and prove his sanity. If he -stayed in the cell, the shadows would continue to deepen about him, -would become intolerable, and perhaps even drive him to the verge of -actual madness.</p> - -<p>He had to convince the killer that he couldn't be silenced easily and -perhaps not at all.</p> - -<p>Corriston stood up. He ran his hands down his body, taking pride in its -muscular solidity, its remarkable integrity under strain. He still felt -lithe and confident; his physical vitality was unimpaired.</p> - -<p>He had really known all along that he would be leaving the cell. On -Earth you could dodge into a narrow alley between tall buildings -or lean on a stroller platform and be carried underground so fast -that your pursuers would be left blank-faced. If he stayed alert he -could do the same thing on the Station, even though there were no -moving pavements to leap upon. Quite possibly he could even slip out -unnoticed. They might not even be watching the cell door because he -had behaved himself so well up to now. Psycho-cases were permitted to -roam, but if they stayed in their cells precautions would naturally be -relaxed in their favor.</p> - -<p>Corriston now was about to develop a sudden, unanticipated impulse to -roam. The fact that he was completely sane gave him an edge over the -space-shocked recruits. There is nothing quite so terrifying to a man -who doubts his own sanity than the thought that unseen eyes are keeping -tabs on him. He feels guilty and acts guilty and almost invariably his -caution deserts him.</p> - -<p>Corriston was quite sure that he could carry it off, even if he felt -eyes boring into his back the instant he left the cell. He'd simply -bide his time and seize the first opportunity which presented itself.</p> - -<p>Actually, it was easier than he'd imagined it could be. He simply -opened the cell door, walked out; and there was no one in sight to -observe him. So far, so good. The corridor outside was completely -deserted, and when he reached the end of it there was still no one.</p> - -<p>He turned left into a large, square reception room and crossed it -without hurrying, his shoulders held straight. Photoelectric eyes? Yes, -possibly, but he had no intention of letting the thought worry him. If -he were being watched mechanically, there was nothing he could do about -it and somehow he didn't think that he had crossed any photoelectric -beams. Certainly no doors had swung open or closed behind him, and -photoelectric alarm system without visible manifestations could be -dismissed as a not too likely possibility.</p> - -<p>When Corriston emerged in the glass-encased, wide-view observation -promenade on the Station's Second Level, he was no longer alone. On -all sides men and women jostled him, walking singly and in pairs, -in uniform and in civilian clothes, or hurrying off in dun-gray, -space-mechanic anonymity.</p> - -<p>The promenade was crowded almost to capacity and yet the men and women -seemed mere walking dots scattered at random beneath the immense -structures of steel and glass which walled them in. A feeling of -unreality came upon Corriston as he stared upward. He deliberately -moderated his stride, as if fearful that a too rapid movement in -any one direction might send him spinning out into space with a -glass-shattering impetus which he would be powerless to control.</p> - -<p>It was an illogical fear and yet he could not entirely throw it off, -and he did not seriously try. It was not nearly as important as the -possibility that he might be being followed. There was no one behind -him who looked in the least suspicious, and no one in front of him -either. But how could he be completely sure?</p> - -<p>The answer was that he couldn't. He had to trust his instincts, and so -far they had given him every assurance that he was moving in a free, -independent orbit of his own, completely unobserved.</p> - -<p>And then, quite suddenly, he ceased to move at all.</p> - -<p>Something quite startling was taking place throughout the length -and breadth of the observation promenade. The men in uniform were -exchanging alarmed glances and departing in haste. The civilians were -crowding closer to the panes. They were collecting in awestruck groups -of blinding light crisscrossed high above their heads.</p> - -<p>They were all looking in one direction, but a few of them had been -taken so completely by surprise that they stood motionless in the -middle of the promenade. Corriston was one of the motionless ones, but -his eyes were quick to seek out the nearest viewpane.</p> - -<p>At first he thought that a gigantic meteor had appeared suddenly out -of the stellar dark and was rushing straight toward the Station with a -velocity so great as to be almost unimaginable.</p> - -<p>Then he realized that it wasn't a meteor. It was a spaceship. And it -wasn't rushing straight toward the Station. It had either bypassed or -encircled the Station and passed beyond it, for it was now heading -out into space again. He could see the long, bright trail left by its -rocket jets, the diffuse incandescence in its wake.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>6</h2> - - -<p>An officer with two stripes on his shoulder was standing almost at -Corriston's elbow. He hadn't turned to depart, and for some reason he -seemed reluctant to do so. The space-ship's erratic course seemed to -absorb him to the exclusion of all else.</p> - -<p>He started swearing under his breath. Then he saw Corriston and a -strange look came into his face. He looked at Corriston steadily for a -moment, then looked quickly away.</p> - -<p>Corriston edged slowly away from him and joined the nearest group of -civilians. They were all talking at once and it was hard to understand -precisely what they were saying. But after a moment a few enlightening -fragments of information greatly lessened his bewilderment.</p> - -<p>"<i>That freighter was preparing to land at the Station, but for some -reason it couldn't make contact. It never even began to decelerate.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>How do you know?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>I asked one of the officers—that gray-haired man over there. He was -plenty worried. I guess that's why he talked so freely. He'd had some -kind of dispute with the captain, apparently. He told me that trouble -developed aboard that freighter when it was eight or ten thousand -miles away. An emergency message came through, but for some reason the -captain kept it pretty much to himself.</i>"</p> - -<p>Watching the freighter's hull blaze with friction as it went into a -narrow orbit about Earth, Corriston tried hard to make himself believe -that the particular manner of a spaceman's departure was simply one, -tragic aspect of a calculated risk, that men who lived dangerously -could hardly expect to die peacefully in their beds. But it was a -rationalization without substance. In an immediate and very real sense -he was inside the freighter, enduring an eternity of torment, sharing -the agonizing fate that was about to overtake the crew.</p> - -<p>Nearer and nearer to Earth the freighter swept, completely encircling -the planet like a runaway moon with an orbital velocity so great the -eye could hardly follow it.</p> - -<p>"It will blast out a meteor pit as wide as the Grand Canyon if it -explodes on land," someone at Corriston's elbow said. "I wouldn't care -to be within a hundred miles of it."</p> - -<p>"Neither would I. It could wipe out a city, all right—any city within -a radius of thirty miles. This is <i>really</i> something to watch!"</p> - -<p>The freighter had encircled Earth twice and was now so close to its -blue-green oceans and the dun-colored immensity of its continental land -masses that it had almost disappeared from view. It had dwindled to a -tiny, glowing pinpoint of radiance crossing the face of the planet, -an erratically weaving firefly that had abandoned all hope of guiding -itself by a light that was about to flare up with explosive violence -and put an end to its life.</p> - -<p>The freighter was invisible when the end came. It was invisible when -it struck and rebounded and channeled a deep pit in a green valley on -Earth. But the explosion which followed was seen by every man and woman -on the Station's wide-view promenade.</p> - -<p>There were three tremendous flares, each opening and spreading outward -like the sides of a funnel, each a livid burst of incandescence -spiraling outward into space.</p> - -<p>As seen from the Station the flares were not, of course, so tragically -spectacular. They resembled more successive flashes of almost -instantaneous brightness, flashes such as had many times been produced -by the tilting of a heliograph on the rust-red plains of Mars under -conditions of maximum visibility.</p> - -<p>It takes an experienced eye to interpret such phenomena correctly, and -among the spectators on the promenade there were a few, no doubt, who -were not even quite sure that the freighter <i>had</i> exploded.</p> - -<p>But Corriston had no doubts at all on that score. The full extent of -the tragedy would be revealed later by radio communication from Earth.</p> - -<p>There was a long silence before anyone spoke. The group around -Corriston seemed paralyzed by shock, unable to express in words how -blindly hopeful they had dared to be, or how fatalistic from the -first. There were a few moist eyes among the women, an awkward, almost -reverent shuffling of feet.</p> - -<p>Then the young man at Corriston's elbow cleared his throat and said in -a barely audible whisper: "It didn't come down in the sea."</p> - -<p>"I know," Corriston said. "It came down in North America, close to the -Canadian border."</p> - -<p>"In the United States?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I think so. We can't be sure. It's too much to hope there was no -destruction of human life after an explosion of that magnitude."</p> - -<p>Corriston suddenly realized that he was behaving like a man who -had taken complete leave of his wits. He was drawing more and more -attention to himself when he should have been bending all of his -efforts toward making himself as inconspicuous as possible.</p> - -<p>Fortunately the agitation of everyone on the promenade was helping to -remedy his blunder. His wisest course now was simply to recede as an -individual, to move silently to the perimeter of the group and just as -silently vanish.</p> - -<p>He was confident that he could accomplish it. He began elbowing his -way backwards until there were a dozen men and women in front of him. -He let himself be observed briefly as a grim-lipped spectator who -had taken such an emotional pounding that he could endure no more. -Suddenly he saw his chance and took it. There was another small group -of civilians close to the group he had joined, and he ducked quickly -behind them, using their turned-away backs as a shield. He edged -toward a paneled door on his right, his only concern for the moment -being a comparatively simple one. He must get away from the crowded -promenade as swiftly as possible.</p> - -<p>He reached the door, swung the panel wide, and stepped into the long, -brightly-lighted compartment beyond without a backward glance. Almost -immediately he perceived that he had committed an act of folly. The -compartment was a promenade cafeteria and it was crowded with an -overflow of agitated men and women discussing the tragedy in heated -terms.</p> - -<p><i>Keep cool now. None of these people are interested in you. Keep cool -and keep on walking. There's another door and you can be through it in -less than a minute</i>, Corriston told himself.</p> - -<p>There was a pretty waitress behind the long counter, and as he came -abreast of her she smiled at him. For an instant he hesitated, eyed -the stool opposite her, and fought off an incongruous but almost -irresistible impulse to sit down. Quick warmth and sudden sympathy. -Yes, he could do with a bit of both, Corriston thought.</p> - -<p>It was sheer insanity, but he <i>did</i> sit down. He eased himself into the -stool and ordered a cup of coffee.</p> - -<p>"Something with it?" the waitress asked. "A sandwich, or—"</p> - -<p>"No, no, I don't think so," Corriston said quickly. "Just the coffee."</p> - -<p>The waitress seemed in no hurry to depart. "It was pretty terrible what -happened. Wasn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Did you see it?" Corriston asked.</p> - -<p>"I saw most of it. I saw the ship go past the Station and start to -explode. I saw that black wing, or whatever it was, drop off. Then -someone started shouting in here and I came back. They say it crashed -on Earth."</p> - -<p>"That's right," Corriston said, telling himself that he was a damned -fool for wanting to look at her hair and hear her friendly woman's -voice when every passing second was adding to his danger.</p> - -<p>"You saw it crash?"</p> - -<p>Corriston nodded. "I just came from the promenade."</p> - -<p>"That was a crazy thing to ask you. How excited can you get? I saw you -come through that door. You looked kind of pale."</p> - -<p>"I still feel that way," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>The waitress then said a surprising thing: "I wonder what it is about -some men. You just have to look at them once and you know they're the -sort you'd like to be with when something terrible happens. You know -what I mean?"</p> - -<p>"Sure," Corriston said. "Any port in a storm."</p> - -<p>The waitress smiled again. "I don't mean that, exactly. Please don't -think I'm handing you a line. There's just something ... comfortable -about you. You go all pale when something bad happens to other people. -That's good; I like that. It means you can feel for other people. -You're a gentle sort of guy, but I bet you can take care of yourself -and anyone you care about. I just bet you can."</p> - -<p>The waitress flushed a little, as if afraid that she had said too much. -She turned and walked slowly toward the coffee percolator at the far -end of the counter.</p> - -<p>He was glad now that he had ordered the coffee. The coffee would help -too. He suddenly felt that he was under observation, that hostile eyes -were watching him. But it was no more than just a feeling; and coffee -and sympathy might drive it away.</p> - -<p><i>How blindly, stupidly foolish could a guy be?</i> Corriston thought. <i>If -he had any sense at all he wouldn't wait for the coffee. He'd get up -quickly and head for the door at the other end of the cafeteria. He'd -either do that, or swing about abruptly and attempt to catch the silent -watcher by surprise.</i></p> - -<p>Corriston decided to wait for the coffee.</p> - -<p>The waitress looked at him strangely when she returned. She set the -coffee down before him and started to turn away, her eyes troubled. -Then, suddenly, she seemed to change her mind. She leaned close to him -and whispered: "You'd better leave by the promenade door. That man over -there has been watching you. I know him very well. He's a Security -Guard."</p> - -<p>Corriston nodded and stared at her gratefully for a moment. He was -more relieved than alarmed. It was far better to have a Security Guard -watching him than a killer with a poisoned barb. He wasn't exactly -happy about it, but he was confident he could elude the agent.</p> - -<p>The waitress' eyes were suddenly warm and friendly again. -"Space-shock?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"So they claim," Corriston said. "I happen to think they're mistaken."</p> - -<p>He started sipping the coffee. It was hot but not steaming hot. He -could have tossed it off like a jigger of rye but he had some quick -thinking to do.</p> - -<p>"Tell me," he said. "Just where is that guard sitting?"</p> - -<p>"At the other end of the counter," the waitress replied, the anxiety -coming back into her eyes. "He's close to the door. You'd have to go -past him. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think you want to get away from him. -So you'd better go the way you came—by the promenade door."</p> - -<p>"That's not too good an idea, I'm afraid," Corriston said. "He'd follow -me and get assistance on the promenade. What's beyond the other door? -Where does it lead to?"</p> - -<p>"It opens on a corridor," the waitress said quickly. "If you can get -past him you might have a better chance that way. There's nothing but a -corridor with two side doors. One opens on an emergency stairway that -goes down to the Master Sequence Selector compartments."</p> - -<p>She seemed to take pride in her knowledge. Due to a space-shocked guy's -difficulties, the Master Sequence Selector had become an important -secret shared between them. Corriston wondered if she knew that the -Selector functioned on thirty-two separate kinds of automatic controls.</p> - -<p>If he ever got the chance, he'd come back and tell her exactly how -grateful he was. Right at the moment one consideration alone dominated -his thinking. If he could get past the guard he could hide out in an -intricate maze of machinery. Even if they sent a dozen guards down -to look for him it would take them some time to locate him. He could -hide-out and gain a breathing spell.</p> - -<p>The waitress had a very small hand. Abruptly Corriston clasped it and -held it for an instant, his fingers exerting a firm, steady pressure. -"Thanks," he said.</p> - -<p>Corriston swung about without glancing toward the end of the counter. -He'd pass the guard quickly enough; there was no sense in alerting -the man in advance. As for recognizing him, that would be no problem -at all. You couldn't mistake a Security Guard no matter what kind of -clothes he wore.</p> - -<p>Corriston took his time. He walked slowly, refusing to hurry. A man -under surveillance should never hurry. He should be casual, completely -at his ease, for there is no better way of keeping an observer guessing.</p> - -<p>He kept parallel with the long counter, his shoulders swaying a little -with the assurance of a man who knows exactly where he is going. -Presently the entire length of the counter was behind him, and he was -less than a yard from the door.</p> - -<p>He hadn't glanced once at the counter. He didn't intend to now. One -quick leap would carry him through the door and beyond it, and to hell -with recognizing the guard. When it was touch and go and odd man out, -you altered your plan as you went along.</p> - -<p>He'd seen a girl disappear when everyone said it didn't happen. -Confined to a psycho-ward, he had simply walked out, eluded a killer, -and watched a ship explode on the green hills of Earth. He'd survived -all that, so how could one lone Security Guard stop him now?</p> - -<p>He was preparing to leap, when something got in his way—a shadow—a -shadow for an instant between himself and the door, and then a dark -bulk stepping right into the shoes of the shadow and filling it out.</p> - -<p>The Security Guard was not at all the kind of person he'd expected -him to be. He was not a big ape, not even a muscular-looking man. He -had simply seemed big for the instant he took to fill the place of -his shadow. He was a man of average height, average build. He blocked -the doorway without bluster, looking very calm and relaxed. Only his -eyes were cold and accusing and dangerously narrowed as he surveyed -Corriston from head to foot.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid you'll have to go back to the ward now," he said. "You -picked a bad time to take a turn about the Station. Ordinarily you'd -be privileged to do so. That's part of the therapy. But you picked a -<i>very</i> bad time."</p> - -<p>"I'm beginning to realize that," Corriston said. "I couldn't help it, -though. I had no way of knowing that freighter was out of control. I'm -afraid you've made a mistake, too, though. I'm not going back to the -cell."</p> - -<p>Corriston had been watching the man's right arm. Suddenly it went back -and his fist started rising, started coming up fast at an angle that -could have sent it crashing against Corriston's jaw.</p> - -<p>Corriston had no intention of letting that happen. He side-stepped -quickly and delivered a smashing blow to the pit of the guard's -stomach. The blow was so solid that it doubled the guard up. His knees -buckled and he started to fold.</p> - -<p>Corriston didn't take the folding for granted. A second blow caught the -man squarely on the jaw and a third thudded into his rib section. For -an instant he looked so dazed that Corriston felt sorry for him.</p> - -<p>He was still half-doubled up when he sank to the floor and straightened -out. He straightened out on his side first, and then rolled over on his -back and stopped moving. His lips hung slackly, his eyes were wide and -staring.</p> - -<p>The look on his face gave Corriston a jolt. It was a very strange -look. The fact that his features had become slack was not startling -in itself, but there was something unnatural, unbelievable, about the -way that muscular relaxation had overspread his entire countenance. His -features were putty-gray and they seemed to have no clearly defined -boundaries.</p> - -<p>His nose, eyes, and forehead looked as if the ligaments which held them -together had snapped from overstrain or had been severed by a surgeon's -scalpel ... severed and allowed to go their separate ways without -interference.</p> - -<p>In fact, there was no real expression on the man's face at all—no -recognizably human expression—not even the stuporous look of a man -knocked suddenly unconscious.</p> - -<p>There was agitation now in the cafeteria, a hum of angry voices, a -rising murmur that was coming dangerously close. Corriston shut his -mind to it. He knelt at the guard's side and swiftly unbuttoned the -unconscious man's heavy service jacket. He felt around under the jacket -until he was satisfied that he could move on through the doorway with -a clear conscience. The guard's heart was beating firmly and steadily. -There was a reassuring warmth under the jacket as well, a complete -absence of clamminess.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the guard groaned and started to roll over on his side again. -Corriston didn't wait for him to complete the movement. He arose -quickly and was through the door in four long strides.</p> - -<p>He preferred not to run. He was not so much fleeing as seeking a -security he was entitled to, a reasonably safe port in a storm that was -threatening to take away his freedom by blanketing him in a dark cloud -of unjust suspicion and utter tyranny.</p> - -<p>The corridor was as deserted as he'd hoped it would be. With no one -to get in his way or sound an alarm, he had no difficulty at all in -locating the emergency passageway which descended in a rail-guarded -spiral to the Master Sequence Selector. He kept his right hand on the -safety rail as he moved downward into the darkness. For the first time -he felt extremely tired.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>7</h2> - - -<p>The drone of machinery in a high-vaulted, metal-walled compartment -awakened Corriston. It was for the most part a steady, low, continuous -sound. But occasionally it ceased to be a drone, in a strict sense, -and became high-pitched. It became a shrill, almost intolerable whine, -impinging unpleasantly on his eardrums and preventing him from going to -sleep again.</p> - -<p>For interminable minutes he lay stretched out at full length in the -lidded, coffinlike rag bin into which he had crawled, a lethargic -weariness enveloping him like a shroud. Above his head steel-blue -surfaces crisscrossed, vibrating planes of metal and wire intricately -folded back upon themselves.</p> - -<p>After a moment, when the steady drone was well in the ascendency again, -he sat up and stared about him. He had a throbbing headache and there -was a dryness in his throat which made swallowing difficult.</p> - -<p>He was certainly not an exceptional man in regard to such matters. -During moments of crises he could remain fairly calm and self-possessed -but the aftermath could be killing.</p> - -<p>He felt now as if all of his nerves had been squeezed together in a -vise. He looked at his wrist watch and was amazed to discover that he -had slept for eight hours. If a search had been made for him, he had no -reason to complain about his luck. He hadn't even closed the lid of the -bin. But perhaps the oil-stained waste he had drawn over himself had -given them the idea that he was just more waste underneath.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the guards didn't give a damn whether they found him or not. -It was quite possible. On a low official level a cynical desire for -self-comfort could dominate the thinking of a man.</p> - -<p>It was quite possible that the guards who had been sent down to -search for him—or one of the guards, at least—had been angry at his -superiors. Just a quick look and to hell with it—that must have been -his attitude.</p> - -<p>It made sense in another way. They wouldn't suspect the bin because the -bin was so conspicuous and obvious a hiding place. The Purloined Letter -sort of thing. Crawl into an empty coffin at a funeral and no one will -give you a second glance. All dead men look alike.</p> - -<p>The Master Sequence Selector compartment was a coffin, too—a big, -all-metal coffin arching above him and hemming him in. If he hoped to -get out of it alive, he'd have to do more than just beat on the lid -with his fists.</p> - -<p>Almost instantly he was ashamed of his thoughts. He had been extremely -lucky so far. The funeral was over, the sod firmly in place. They would -not be likely to dig him up on suspicion, and he could stay buried -until he starved to death.</p> - -<p>The worst would be over when they found him. The thirst torment would -be the worst, but if it became unbearable he would still have the -choice of surrendering himself.</p> - -<p>Quite possibly he <i>would</i> die of thirst. Quite possibly he could shout -his lungs out and still remain trapped. If a search had been made and -they had failed to find him, sullen anger might have tempted them -to do an unthinkable thing. They might have locked the door of the -compartment so that the corpse would have no opportunity of escaping -prematurely and making them look like fools.</p> - -<p>Corriston was just starting to climb out of the bin to investigate -the truth or falseness of that utterly demoralizing possibility when -he heard the sound. It was a very peculiar sound, three or four -times repeated, and he heard it clearly above the low drone of the -Selector's automatic controls.</p> - -<p>He stood up in the bin, straining his ears. It came again, louder this -time. It was only a short distance away and it was a voice sound, -unmistakably a voice sound.</p> - -<p>He climbed out of the bin, grasped a metal rod that projected from -one of the cross-beams, and descended cautiously to the base of the -Selector. The droning increased for an instant, rising to a whine so -high-pitched that he could no longer hear the voice.</p> - -<p>He started moving around the edge of the Selector, keeping well within -its shadow, watching shafts of dull light move backwards and forwards -across the floor. He hardly expected anyone to leap out at him. The -voice had not seemed quite that near; in fact, he was by no means sure -that it had come from the compartment at all. But if not from the -compartment, where?</p> - -<p>He found out quickly enough. There was a square, windowlike grate a few -feet from the Selector's automatic control panel, set high up on the -wall. A faint, steady glow came from it.</p> - -<p>Corriston paused for an instant directly below the glow, measuring the -distance from the floor to the aperture with his eyes. He strained his -ears again, waiting for the whine to subside. It continued shrill, but -suddenly he heard the voice again, heard it above the whine.</p> - -<p>There was stark terror in the voice. It was despairing and desperate -in its pleading, and it seemed to Corriston that he would remember it -until he died. He thought he recognized the voice, but he couldn't be -sure.</p> - -<p>It was perhaps merciful that he couldn't, for the grate was at least -ten feet above the floor and had he known beyond the faintest shadow -of doubt that it was Helen Ramsey's voice, his inability to reach her -would have been fiendish torment.</p> - -<p>He hoped only one thing—that he had to reach that voice in time.</p> - -<p>First of all he had to stay calm. Even a calm man could not hope to -scale a ten-foot wall with his bare hands, but an agitated man would -have no chance at all. Something to stand on! A box—anything!</p> - -<p>A box would help, a ladder would be better. But what were his chances -of finding a ladder in the Selector compartment? Not good at all. -Still, he could search for a ladder. Quickly now. No time to waste, but -don't lose your head. Take thirty seconds, a good long thirty seconds -to look around for a metal ladder. There just might be one standing -somewhere against the wall.</p> - -<p>There was! Not one ladder, but two, leaning against the wall directly -opposite the glimmering front section of the Selector.</p> - -<p>It was amazing how desperation could change a man. In the great moments -of danger and desperation small, neurotic concerns ceased to matter.</p> - -<p>He was sure now. He had recognized the voice beyond any possibility of -doubt. The ladder scraped against the wall and swayed a little, and for -an instant he feared it might slide out from under him. He paused to -make sure, and then went swiftly on up until his head was level with -the grate.</p> - -<p>He grasped the heavy grillwork with both hands and raised himself -higher. He could see clearly through the grill into the compartment -beyond now. The entire compartment was visible from where he stood. It -was small and square and dimly lighted by an overhead lamp, and there -was a paneled door leading into it.</p> - -<p>Close to the door a man was standing. Corriston couldn't see his face. -He was half-turned away from the wall opposite him, and the girl who -was struggling to escape from him was more than two-thirds concealed by -his massive shoulders.</p> - -<p>He was holding her in a tight, merciless grip. He had locked one hand -on her wrist and was preventing her from moving either backwards or -forwards. It was costing him no effort. He simply stood very straight -and still while she struggled vainly to free herself.</p> - -<p>Immense strength seemed to emanate from him, complete assurance and -a coldly calculating kind of brutality which appeared to be slowly -undermining her will to resist. Her struggles became less frantic -second by slow second, and that she was about to stop struggling -altogether was evident from the way her right arm had begun to dangle -and her body to sag.</p> - -<p>The man was holding her by the left wrist in a left-handed grip. He was -cruelly twisting her wrist and suddenly she cried out again in pain and -despairing helplessness.</p> - -<p>The blood started mounting to Corriston's temples. He began tugging at -the grate with both hands, exerting all his strength in a desperate -effort to dislodge it. It began to move a little, to become less firmly -attached to the wall. He could feel it moving under his hands, rasping -and creaking as it loosened inch by inch.</p> - -<p>He was covered with sweat. Already in his mind he had killed the man, -and Helen Ramsey was tight in his arms, happy and alive.</p> - -<p>The man did not seem to hear the rasp of the grate coming loose. He -neither turned nor raised his head. His free hand had gone out and -across the girl's face. But if he had struck her on the face, she gave -no sign. She did not recoil as if from a blow and there was something -strange about the movement. It was as if the man had reached out to -tear something from the girl's face—a veil or a mask.</p> - -<p>His hand whipped back empty but his fingers were oddly twisted, as if -he had clawed at something that had failed to come free.</p> - -<p>Corriston pulled back his shoulders and his posture on the ladder grew -more erect. He knew that his exertions might send the ladder toppling -but it was a risk he had to take.</p> - -<p>The grate was freely movable now. He could move it backwards and -forwards, six or eight inches each way; but he still could not rip it -completely free.</p> - -<p>He kept on tugging, his neck cords bulging, the ladder swaying -dangerously. The grate could be moved upward now, just a little. No, it -was finally coming completely loose. He could move it in all directions -and even push it outward at right angles to its base.</p> - -<p>Twice he heard Helen Ramsey cry out again, and her screams became a -goad that turned his wrists to steel. With a sudden, convulsive wrench -he twisted the grate sideways. It came loose in his hands. It was so -surprisingly light that an incongruous rage surged up in him. It was -cruelly perverse, intolerable, that he should have been so long delayed -by a thin sheet of metal that hardly seemed to have any weight at all.</p> - -<p>He swung about on the ladder and let the grate drop. It struck the -floor a few feet from the Selector and rebounded with a clang loud -enough to wake the dead. The ladder swayed again, and he had to grab -the edge of the aperture quickly and with both hands to keep himself -from toppling.</p> - -<p>He pulled himself forward through the aperture on his stomach, taking -care not to dislodge the ladder. His temples were pounding and his -palms sticky with sweat. He did not look down until he was completely -through, dreading what he might see.</p> - -<p>He passed a hand over his eyes. It was unbelievable, but he had -to believe it. The man was gone and the girl was now alone in the -compartment.</p> - -<p>Had the man fled in sudden fear, knowing that Corriston would be -consumed with a killing rage that would make him a more than dangerous -adversary? Corriston didn't think so. The man had looked quite capable -of putting up a furious struggle. More likely he had disappeared to -keep himself from being recognized, or because he had accomplished his -purpose.</p> - -<p>Blind, embittered anger again boiled up in Corriston. Had the man -waited, he would have rejoiced and been less angry. He would have taken -a calm, deep breath and slowly set about the almost pleasant task of -killing him.</p> - -<p>He felt cheated, outraged. Then his concern for Helen Ramsey made him -forget his rage. Had she been felled with a blow, or had she simply -fainted? He started down, then hesitated.</p> - -<p>The ladder first. Before he descended it was necessary to make sure -that the ladder would be in the same compartment with him, set firmly -against the wall, directly under the aperture. If he were prevented -from leaving the compartment by the corridor door, he might find -himself needing the ladder. Without it he might be descending into a -trap that could close with a clang and abruptly imprison him.</p> - -<p>Getting down into the compartment was the worst part, just putting the -ladder into place and not knowing how badly hurt she was.</p> - -<p><i>What if she's dead?</i> he thought. <i>What if he killed her with a single -blow? He looked strong enough. He could have killed her. God, don't let -me think of that. I mustn't think it.</i></p> - -<p>His feet touched the floor. He let out his breath slowly, turned and -crossed the floor to where she was lying. He went down on his knees and -lifted her into his arms. She lay relaxed in his arms, face up, quiet, -her lips slightly parted.</p> - -<p>He looked down into her face, and for a moment his mind went numb, -became still, so that there was no longer a whirling inside his -head—only a chilling horror.</p> - -<p>She seemed to have two faces. One was shrunken and almost torn away, -a shredded fragment of a face. But enough of it remained for him to -see the shriveled flesh of the cheeks, the puckered mouth, the white -hair clinging to the temples. It was the face of an old woman but so -fragmentary that it could not even have been called a half-face. And -even though it had been almost ripped away, it seemed still to adhere -firmly to the face to which it had been attached, and to blend with it, -so that the features of both faces intermingled in a quite unnatural -way.</p> - -<p>Not quite, though; Helen Ramsey's face was sharper, more distinct—all -of the features stood out more clearly. And when Corriston's stunned -mind began to function normally again, he realized that the old woman's -face was—had to be—a plastic mask.</p> - -<p>It took him only an instant to remove the ghastly thing from features -which he could not bear to see defaced.</p> - -<p>He had to pry it loose, but he did so very gently, exactly as a -sculptor might have pried loose a life mask from the face of a -recumbent model.</p> - -<p>He held it in his hand and looked at it, and a little of the horror -crept back into his mind.</p> - -<p>It was the merest fragment, as he had thought. Thin, flexible, a -tissue-structure of incomplete, aged features, and with an inner -surface that was very rough and uneven, as if something had been torn -from it.</p> - -<p>He could have crumpled it up in his hand, but he did not do so. With -a lack of foresight which he was later to regret—a lack which was to -prove tragic—he simply flung it from him, as though its ugliness had -unnerved him so that he could no longer endure the sight of it.</p> - -<p>Helen Ramsey was a dead weight in his arms, and for a moment he feared -that she had stopped breathing. So great was his fear, so paralyzing, -that his hand on her pulse became rigid, and for a moment he could -neither move nor think.</p> - -<p>Then he felt the slow beat of her pulse and a great thankfulness came -upon him.</p> - -<p>He knew then that he must get help as quickly as possible. He eased her -gently to the floor, walked to the door and locked it securely. Then -he returned to her and took her into his arms again. He spent several -minutes trying to revive her. But when she did not open her eyes, did -not even stir in his arms, he knew that he could not wait any longer.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>8</h2> - - -<p>An inexorable kind of determination enabled Corriston to get to the -Station's central control compartment, and confront the commander, -when the latter, absorbed by matters of the utmost urgency, had -triple-guarded his privacy by stationing executive officers outside the -door.</p> - -<p>Commander Clement was a small man physically, with a strangely bland, -almost cherubic face. But his face was dark with anger now—or possibly -it was shock that he was experiencing—and the heightened color seemed -to add to his dignity, making him look not merely forcibly determined, -but almost formidable. His white uniform and the seven gold bars on -each epaulet helped a good deal too. It was impossible to determine at -a glance just how great was his inner strength, but Corriston knew that -he could not have gotten where he was had he not possessed unalloyed -resoluteness.</p> - -<p>He was standing by a visual reference mechanism which looked almost -exactly like a black stovepipe spiraling up from the deck. There was -a speaking tube in his hand, and he was talking into it. He seemed -completely unaware that he was no longer alone.</p> - -<p>Had Corriston been less agitated he would have felt a little sorry for -the officer who had admitted him. The officer had been so impressed by -Corriston's gravity and the earnestness with which he had pleaded his -case that he had stepped forward and opened the door without question, -assuming, no doubt, that Clement would look up instantly and see -Corriston standing just inside the doorway.</p> - -<p>Now the door had closed again, Clement hadn't looked up, and the -officer was going to be in trouble. But Corriston had no time and very -little inclination to worry about that. What Commander Clement was -saying into the speaking tube had a far stronger claim on his attention.</p> - -<p>"It's the worst thing that could have happened," Clement was saying. -"We can't just brazen it out. It's going to mean trouble, serious -trouble. What's that? How should I know what happened? When you're -carrying a certain kind of cargo a thousand things can go wrong. The -ship went out of control, that's all. The first radio message didn't -tell me anything. The captain was trying to cover up to save himself. -He didn't even want <i>me</i> to know.</p> - -<p>"You bet it can happen again. We've got to be prepared for that, too. -But right now—"</p> - -<p>Commander Clement saw Corriston then. His expression didn't change, but -it seemed to Corriston that he paled slightly.</p> - -<p>"That's all for now," he said, and returned the speaking tube to its -cradle.</p> - -<p>He looked steadily at Corriston for a moment. A glint of anger appeared -in his eyes, and suddenly they were blazing.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by coming in here unannounced, Lieutenant?" he -demanded. "I gave strict orders that no one was to be admitted. If I -didn't know you were suffering from severe space-shock...."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, sir," Corriston said quickly. "It's very urgent. I think -I can convince you that I am <i>not</i> suffering from space-shock. I've -found Miss Ramsey. She's been badly hurt and needs immediate medical -attention."</p> - -<p>The Commander looked as if a man he had thought sane was standing -before him with a gun in his hand. Not Corriston, but some other, more -violent man. For a moment longer he remained rigid and then his hand -went out and tightened on Corriston's arm.</p> - -<p>"By heaven, if you're lying to me!"</p> - -<p>"I would have no reason to lie, sir. It proves I'm not a space-shock -case. But that's unimportant now. She's safe for the moment. No one can -get to her. I bolted the door on the inside. Unless—"</p> - -<p>Corriston went pale. "No, there's no danger. I drew the ladder up and -returned it to the Selector compartment. Then I threw the lock on the -emergency door."</p> - -<p>"Start at the beginning," Clement said. "If she's in danger well get to -her. Take it easy now, and tell me exactly what happened."</p> - -<p>Corriston went over it fast. He said nothing about the mask. Let -Clement find that out for himself.</p> - -<p>Commander Clement walked to the door, threw it open and spoke to the -executive officer who was stationed outside. The officer came into the -control room.</p> - -<p>"Stay with Lieutenant Corriston until I get back," Clement said. "He's -not to leave. He understands that."</p> - -<p>He turned back to Corriston. "I'm afraid you'll have to consider -yourself still under guard, Lieutenant. I have only your word that you -found Miss Ramsey. I believe you, but there are some regulations even I -can't waive."</p> - -<p>"It's all right," Corriston said. "I won't attempt to leave. But please -hurry, sir."</p> - -<p>Commander Clement hesitated, then said with a smile: "I knew about the -guard you knocked out, Lieutenant. You're a very hot-headed young man. -That's <i>really</i> a court-martial offense, but perhaps we can smooth it -over if you're telling the truth now. You were in the position of a man -imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit. If he can prove his innocence, -the law is very lenient. He can escape and still get a full pardon, -even a pardon with apologies. It's a different matter, of course if he -<i>kills</i> a guard to escape. You didn't."</p> - -<p>Corriston was tempted to say, "I think perhaps I tried to, sir," but -thought better of it. He'd ask Clement later why the guards who had -been sent down into the Selector compartment had failed to find him. -It wasn't important enough now to waste a second thought on, but just -out of curiosity he would ask.</p> - -<p>He didn't have to. After Clement had departed the executive officer -told him. "They made a pretty thorough search for you," he said. "Or so -they claimed. But they had been drinking heavily—every one of them. -Maintaining discipline can be a terrible headache at times. There's a -lot of objectivity about the commander and he doesn't try to crack down -too hard. He knows what it means to be out here for months with nothing -to break the monotony. Hell, if we could send for our wives more often -it wouldn't be so bad."</p> - -<p>Corriston's palms were cold. He stood very still, wondering how long it -would take the commander to return with the news he wanted to hear.</p> - -<p>"The question is whether life is really worth living without a woman to -talk to," the executive officer went on. "Just to lie relaxed and watch -a pretty girl move slowly around a room. It does something for you."</p> - -<p>Corriston wished the man would keep quiet. Under ordinary circumstances -he could have sympathized heartily. He couldn't now. There was only one -girl he wanted to see walk around a room, and she might just as well -have been at the opposite end of space.</p> - -<p>She wasn't walking around a room now. She was lying helplessly sprawled -out, waiting for rescue to come. It had to come soon, it had to. The -commander wouldn't just go down alone after her. He'd be accompanied by -a half-dozen executive officers who would know exactly how to bundle -her into a stretcher and carry her to the sick bay.</p> - -<p>But what if a killer just happened to be crouching in one of the -corridors, waiting for the stretcher to pass? A killer with a poisoned -barb....</p> - -<p>Corriston couldn't stand still. He walked back and forth across the -control room while the executive officer continued to talk. He paid no -heed at all.</p> - -<p>Corriston heard a footfall as he paced. He turned and saw that -Commander Clement had returned. He was standing in the doorway with a -strange look on his face.</p> - -<p>Corriston felt bewildered, unable to quite believe that Clement was -really back. It was like a dream that had suddenly turned real, a -looking glass reversal with a strange quality of distortion about it.</p> - -<p>It was real enough. Clement entered and shut the door behind him, very -firmly and carefully, as if he wanted to make sure that Corriston would -not attempt to escape.</p> - -<p>He walked slowly forward, looking at the executive officer as if -Corriston had no place at all in his thoughts.</p> - -<p>"Everything he told me was a lie," Clement said. "Everything. There -was no girl. The compartment was locked; so was the emergency door -leading down to the Selector. The ladder was standing against the wall -in the Selector compartment. Miss Ramsey could not have been in the -compartment—not at any time. There was nothing to indicate it. She -just wasn't there."</p> - -<p>Corriston moved toward him, his face white. "That's a lie and you know -it. What have you done with her? You'd better tell me. You can have me -court-martialed, but you can't stop me from talking. I can prove she -was there. The grate—"</p> - -<p>"The grate? What are you talking about? There was no ripped-out grate. -The grate was in place. I feel very sorry for you, Lieutenant. But I -can't let sympathy stand in the way of my duty. In some respects you're -very rational. You can think logically and clearly ... up to a point. -But the shock weakness is there. It's very serious when you start -having actual hallucinations."</p> - -<p>The executive officer had drawn his gun. He was holding it rather -loosely in his hand now, triggered and ready for any dangerous or -suspicious move on Corriston's part.</p> - -<p>There was nothing in Clement's gaze as he swung about to refute the -dark mistrust that had come into the executive officer's eyes. He -seemed intent only on bolstering that mistrust by driving even deeper -nails into Corriston's coffin.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid we'll have to continue to regard Lieutenant Corriston as -dangerously unstable," he said. "Keep your gun on him when you take him -back to the Ward. Don't relax your vigilance for an instant."</p> - -<p>"I won't," the executive officer promised.</p> - -<p>"Good. You're not going to make any further trouble for us, are you, -Lieutenant?"</p> - -<p>The question seemed to call for no answer and Corriston made none. He -turned slowly and walked toward the door, despairingly aware that a man -he had rather liked had fallen into step behind him and would shoot him -dead if he so much as wavered.</p> - -<p>Just as he reached the door Clement spoke again, giving the executive -officer final instructions. "He must not be permitted to leave his -cell. Make sure of that, Simms. Post a permanent guard at the door. He -must be kept under constant surveillance. If he's the self-destructive -type, and I'm by no means sure he isn't, he may attempt to kill -himself."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>9</h2> - - -<p><i>May attempt to kill himself. May attempt.... May attempt.... May -attempt to kill himself.</i> Corriston sat up on his cot, his mouth dry, -his temples pounding.</p> - -<p>Had Clement implanted the suggestion in his mind deliberately, with -infinite cruelty and cunning? Was Clement really hoping that he <i>would</i> -commit suicide? If he took his own life Clement would stand to gain a -great deal.</p> - -<p>But could Clement be that much of a scoundrel? Was he, in fact, a -scoundrel at all?</p> - -<p>Corriston knew that he could not afford to succumb to panic. Only by -staying calm, by trying to reason it out logically, could he hope to -get anywhere. Not at the truth, perhaps, but anywhere at all.</p> - -<p>Start off with a supposition: The commander was everything that he -pretended to be, an honest man with immense responsibilities which he -could not delegate to anyone else. A forthright, hot-tempered, but -completely sincere man. A little secretive, yes, but only because he -took his responsibilities so seriously.</p> - -<p>Start off by assuming that Clement was that kind of a man. What -would he stand to gain if Corriston killed himself? The removal of -one responsibility, at the very least. It was bad for morale if an -officer had hallucinations that vitally concerned the Station itself. -But a hallucination about the wealthiest girl on Earth wasn't just -run-of-the-mill. It could not only disturb every officer and enlisted -man on the Station; it could have political repercussions on Earth.</p> - -<p>Clement was already in trouble because of the freighter. The chances -were a Congressional Investigating Committee would be coming out. -They'd be sure to hear about Corriston. His story would be all over the -Station, on everyone's lips.</p> - -<p>If Corriston took his own life the commander would be spared all that. -He'd have nothing to answer for. The entire affair could be hushed up. -Or could it?</p> - -<p>Wait a minute, better give the whole problem another twirl. Even if -the Commander was a completely honest man, he wouldn't stand to gain -too much. He might even find himself in more serious trouble. And look -at it in another way: It was hard to believe that a hallucination -concerning Helen Ramsey could be much more than a gadfly irritation. -If the full truth came out, Clement could clear himself of all blame. -Would a man of integrity suggest that a fellow-officer take his own -life solely to remove a gadfly irritation? Or <i>any</i> irritation, for -that matter?</p> - -<p>It was inconceivable on the face of it. The first supposition was a -contradiction in terms. It did not remain valid under close scrutiny -and therefore it had to be rejected.</p> - -<p>Supposition number two: Clement was in all respects the exact opposite -of an honest man. Clement had something dark and damaging to conceal, -was in more serious trouble than he'd allowed anyone to suspect. -Clement had some reason for not wanting the truth about Ramsey's -daughter to come out.</p> - -<p>What would he stand to gain if Corriston took himself out of the world? -Unfortunately there were wide areas where any kind of speculation had -to penetrate an almost absolute vacuum to get anywhere at all.</p> - -<p>The situation on Mars? Was there some as yet undemonstratable link -between Ramsey's uranium holdings and the Station itself? Was Clement -involved with Ramsey in some way? And was Ramsey's daughter a vital -link in the chain?</p> - -<p>Had the accident to the freighter put an additional strain on the -chain, a strain so great that Clement had been forced to take -immediate, drastic action to protect himself?</p> - -<p>Corriston tried to remember exactly what the Commander had said over -the speaking tube. He had tried to listen intently, but he had been -too agitated to make much sense out of the few brief sentences which -he had overheard. Clement had been speaking in anger and not too -coherently, and it had been a one-way conversation, with the replying -voice completely silent, or, at the very least, inaudible. But one -thing about the conversation <i>had</i> made a strong impression on him. -Clement had not sounded like an honest man with nothing to conceal. On -the contrary, he had sounded like a worried and guilty man.</p> - -<p>Corriston shut his eyes and relaxed for a moment on his cot. It was -an uneasy, tormenting kind of relaxation, because another thought had -occurred to him.</p> - -<p>What if Clement had not deliberately tried to plant a suicide -suggestion in his mind at all? What if he had simply spoken with the -malice of a not too kindly man appalled and enraged by a space-shock -victim who had not only lied to him, but had given every evidence of -being dangerously difficult to control.</p> - -<p>It certainly made sense. There was nothing in the cell which might have -enabled Corriston to take his own life, even had he been so inclined. -Would not Clement have taken care to introduce into the cell some -convenient, readily available weapon—a steel file, perhaps or even a -small spool of wire?</p> - -<p>A cold dream had begun to take possession of Corriston. Was it true -then, could it possibly be true? Was he hallucinating? He had seen -Helen Ramsey go into a ladies' lounge and disappear. He had seen her -a second time, and she had worn a mask. The mask was so strange that -it would have made four men out of five question their own sanity. But -he had knelt beside her and lifted her into his arms. He had felt the -pulse at her wrist. Well? If after that she had disappeared again, was -it not more of a black mark against him than if he had failed to touch -her at all?</p> - -<p>All hallucinations seem real to the insane. The realer they seem the -more likely they are to be inescapably damning.</p> - -<p>Could a warped mind hope to escape from such a dilemma? Was there any -possible way of making sure? No, not if he had actually cracked up. But -supposing he hadn't. Suppose he had just passed for an instant over the -borderline, as a result of strain, of abnormal circumstances, and was -now completely rational again. In that case, proof would help. Proof -could convince him that at least a part of what had happened had been -real, that he had not been hallucinating continuously for days.</p> - -<p>If he could prove conclusively that he had not been hallucinating when -he had climbed through the grate, Helen Ramsey's presence beyond the -grate would be pretty well established. Even an insane man does not -abandon all logic when he performs a complicated act. He is not likely -to ascend a ten foot wall and climb through a grate in pursuit of a -complete illusion.</p> - -<p>Oh, it <i>could</i> happen.... Possibly it had happened many times in -hospitals for the incurably insane. But somehow he could not believe -that it had happened in his case. Right at this moment he was certainly -not in an abnormal state of mind. How could he be when he was able to -think so logically and consistently?</p> - -<p>Being sane now, or at least having the firm conviction that he was -sane, would enable him to retrace what had happened step by step. What -he were to retrace it in reality ... until he came to the grate? If -the grate had been ripped out, the torment and uncertainty in his mind -would vanish. He would be free then to move against Clement, to unmask -and expose him for the scoundrel he was.</p> - -<p>Free? The very thought was a mockery. He was free for twenty feet in -either direction, free to shout and summon the guard. But beyond -that....</p> - -<p>Corriston sat up straight. Free to summon the guard. Free to summon a -man he had dropped to the floor with two quick, decisive and totally -unexpected blows. But if he did summon the guard, what then? Could -he be doubled up with cramps—the old prisoners' dodge? "Get me to a -doctor. I think I'm dying."</p> - -<p>Hell no, not that. It was mildewed even on the face of it. The guard -wouldn't be that much of a fool. He'd whip out a gun, and slash -downward with it at the first suspicious move on the part of a man he -hated.</p> - -<p>Was there any other way? Perhaps there was ... a quite simple way. Why -couldn't he simply ask the guard to step into the cell and request -permission to talk to him? He would plead urgency, but do it very -casually, arouse the man's curiosity without antagonizing him too -much. No need to be crafty, await some unlikely opportunity, or -anything of the sort.</p> - -<p>Simply overpower the man—straight off, without any fuss.</p> - -<p>It had happened before, but that very fact would make the guard -contemptuous, more than ever convinced that the first time he hadn't -really been taken by surprise at all. His pride would make him want -to believe that. He was the kind of man who could rationalize a -humiliating defeat and blot it completely from his memory.</p> - -<p>It not only worked, it worked better than he could have dared hope. -When he spoke a few words through the door, the guard became instantly -curious. He unlocked the cell and came in, his eyes narrowed in -anger ... anger, but not suspicion. His gun remained on his hip as he -walked up to Corriston and stood directly facing him, well within -grappling range.</p> - -<p>"Well, what do you want to talk to me about?" he demanded. "Better make -it brief. I'm not supposed to talk to you at all."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry to hear that," Corriston said. "You've got no idea how -depressing it is to be locked up in a narrow cell with absolutely no -one to talk to."</p> - -<p>"You don't like it, eh? Well, you brought it on yourself."</p> - -<p>Corriston caught the man about the waist and brought his right fist -down three times on his curving back. Each blow was a powerful one, -slanting downward toward the kidney.</p> - -<p>Then Corriston hit the guard directly in the small of the back, with -an even more punishing blow. The cumulative effect was instantaneous. -The guard collapsed and sank down like a suddenly deflated balloon, the -breath whistling from between his teeth.</p> - -<p>Corriston watched him sink to the floor and straighten out. Forewarned -as he was, he was still appalled by the almost instant, shocking change -in the man's expression. For the second time the guard's features began -to come apart. The entire upper portion of his face seemed to sink -inward and broaden out, and the flowing began, the incredible refusal -of his forehead and nose to remain in close proximity to his mouth.</p> - -<p>One eye closed completely; the other remained open in a wide and almost -pupilless stare. The chin receded and the lips became a puckered gray -orifice that looked like some monstrous fungus growth sprouting from -the middle of a gargoyle face. The individual features became paler and -paler as they spread, and suddenly there seemed to be no color left in -the face at all. It had turned completely waxen.</p> - -<p>It was a horrifying thing to watch.</p> - -<p>Corriston knelt, opened the man's shirt and stared intently at the -exposed throat, something he had not done the first time in the -cafeteria. The first time he had simply knelt and searched under the -shirt with his hand for a heartbeat which had surprised him by its -steadiness. He was quite sure now that the heart was beating firmly and -steadily.</p> - -<p>Even the peculiar appearance of the throat did not alarm him. But it -most certainly did interest him. Far down on the Security Guard's -throat, just above his breastbone, were a row of small hooks partly -embedded in his flesh. The hooks were very tiny indeed, and their -brightness was obscured by a thin film of sweat. Corriston removed the -moisture with a quick flick of his thumb and continued to stare, as if -he could not quite believe his eyes.</p> - -<p>Finally he wedged his fingers under the base of the mask, and ripped it -from the guard's face.</p> - -<p>Under the mask, the face had a perfectly natural look. The features -were relaxed and vacuous, but there was no flowing, no unnatural -distortion at all. And it was quite a different face—the face of a -man who had worn a disguise and was now so completely a stranger to -Corriston that he might just as well have been any one of the Station's -thirty-seven Security Guards.</p> - -<p>Corriston could see where the hook attachments had gone into the -flesh in at least thirty places on the man's face: on his brow, his -cheekbones, on both sides of his face clear down to the base of his -neck. The tiny punctures made by the hooks were faintly rimmed with -blood, perhaps because Corriston had torn the mask away too abruptly. -Undoubtedly the skin had been anaesthetized, the hooks inserted -skillfully by someone familiar with just what should be done to prevent -scarring.</p> - -<p>He hoped that the guard would not carry tiny scars on his face for the -rest of his natural life. He arose and examined the mask. He had a -complete false face.</p> - -<p>The thing was ingenious beyond belief. It was no mere Halloween -assemblage of papier-maché flimflammery, but an elaborate and flexible -mask of very thin plastic, or possibly metal. A prosthetic mask—if one -could use that term in connection with a mask. It was certainly more -complex in structure than any prosthetic leg or arm he had ever seen on -a handicapped man, or would ever be likely to see.</p> - -<p>He had a pretty good idea as to how it worked. A general idea. -Apparently when the hooks were attached to the muscular structure of -the human face underneath, every aspect of the wearer's face would be -instantly controlled and altered to conform to the configuration of -the false face. In that sense the mask could be said to actually mold -itself to the wearer's face and transform it into a completely new and -different face.</p> - -<p>And yet, in some subtle way, the emotions felt by the owner of the -real face would be conveyed to the mask, so that it would express with -different features very much the same kinds of emotion.</p> - -<p>Ingenious was scarcely the word for it. It was a miracle of -technological science, almost beyond belief. But he could not doubt -the reality of what he saw, for he held the evidence in his hand. No -hallucination could possibly be <i>that</i> real.</p> - -<p>The way the mask's surface coloration could change when the wearer's -emotions changed was perhaps the most amazing miracle of all. He had -seen the guard's color come and go, had watched him redden with anger -and then grow pale.</p> - -<p>It could only mean that there was some mechanically symbiotic, -emotion-sensitive electronic coating or skin surface, or series of -tubes on the inner surface of the mask, which could simulate actual -blood flow much like a network of tiny heat regulators. This network -would be so responsive to the slightest change in body temperature -that the mask would alter its color the instant the wearer experienced -fright or grew uncontrollably angry. What made it seem logical and -even likely was the fact that caloric changes do occur in just such a -fashion in the human body with every shift from anger to grief or from -pain to shock.</p> - -<p>There was nothing simple about the inner surface of the mask. It was a -maze of complicated gadgetry concentrated in less than eight inches of -space, perhaps thirty or forty separate mechanisms in all, some as tiny -as the head of a pin, and others about one inch in width.</p> - -<p>When the wearer became unconscious, the mask seemingly lost its -integrity. The gadgets either stopped functioning or ceased to function -properly and the false face became a dissolving, hideous caricature; -that bore little or no resemblance to the human countenance in repose, -or even to the human countenance convulsed with sudden shock.</p> - -<p>How incredibly blind he had been in failing to suspect the existence -of a mask when the guard's face had grown unnatural and ghastly in the -cafeteria. He had taken it for granted that it was the man himself who -had changed.</p> - -<p>Fortunately he was spared now from making the same mistake twice, and -he took full advantage of the fact. He knelt again and began the by no -means easy task of removing the uniform. He had to lift him up and turn -him over twice and each time the man groaned and stirred a little. He -seemed on the verge of coming to, but Corriston shut his mind to the -possibility until the last of the man's garments had been tossed in a -pile on the floor.</p> - -<p>He quickly took off his own uniform then, and carefully and -methodically arrayed himself as a guard, taking care to leave the coat -unbuttoned at the throat and even going so far as to draw on the heavy -woolen socks and attach to his wrist the guard's metal identification -disk.</p> - -<p>An audacious thought occurred to him, but he dismissed it at once. He -could not attach the mask to his own face. It would have required the -administrations of an expert, or, at the very least, someone familiar -with the thing who knew exactly how it was supposed to be hooked into -place. He had no way of knowing and he recoiled instinctively from the -thought of hooks, however tiny, marring the skin on his face.</p> - -<p>No, he'd have to get along without the mask. No one on the lower levels -knew him by sight, with the one ugly exception of a killer he'd never -seen clearly enough to recognize in return. And in the guard's uniform -he might even succeed in deceiving the killer if he moved quickly -enough to give the man only a brief glimpse of him as he crossed the -wide-view promenade.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>10</h2> - - -<p>Corriston stared down at the still unconscious guard, lying stretched -out unclothed on the floor of the cell, then he turned, patting the -guard's gun which now nestled in its transferred holster on his -angular, bony hip.</p> - -<p>Well, there were perhaps even worse ways of ending up, and it was -certainly a destiny almost universally shared.</p> - -<p>He walked out through the open door of the cell without a backward -glance.</p> - -<p>He had changed his plans completely now. The complicated structure of -the mask between his hands had so completely reassured him as to his -complete sanity, that he was no longer under a compulsion to return to -the Selector Compartment for additional proof.</p> - -<p>All of the pieces were coming together and melting into a pattern that -remained obscure only because there was still so much about it that he -did not understand. He knew there was a killer loose on the Station, -the same one who had been loose on the ship that had taken him to the -Station. He knew about a poisoned barb that had killed one man and had -barely missed killing Corriston himself.</p> - -<p>Dismiss the killer for the moment. There was Helen Ramsey, the -wealthiest girl on Earth. Think about Ramsey himself and what his -wealth had done to Mars. Think about the colonists on Mars, men who -had endured unimaginable hardships and privation to stake out uranium -claims which Ramsey did not want them to have. Think about the -freighter that had gone out of control.</p> - -<p>Think about Clement. Think very <i>hard</i> about Clement. The tragedy had -shaken him, had given him the look of a very guilty man. He had not -wanted it to happen. He had been alarmed, appalled. Yes, think about -Clement—that very secretive man.</p> - -<p>The killer? You can't get rid of him, can you? He keeps coming back -into your mind. The killer had not tried to spare Helen Ramsey. He had -killed her bodyguard and ripped a mask from her face. No attempt at -protection there. But Clement could not have known about that. He had -evidently been searching for Helen Ramsey himself. The news that she -had been found had startled him, had given him a visible jolt.</p> - -<p>Corriston did not think that the pattern would dissolve. A few of its -features were becoming too clear now, the implications too inescapable. -There was something going on that was ugly at the core of it, and the -coming of the killer had simply brought it out into the open. Not too -much into the open as yet perhaps, but the handwriting on the wall had -at least become almost readable. Perhaps the accident to the freighter -had also helped to bring it into the open. In some obscure way -everything seemed to dovetail: Ramsey; the situation on Mars; Clement -and the freighter; a twice disappearing Helen Ramsey; and an accusation -of space-shock which was completely false and unjustified. Each seemed -to hover just above the center of a very definite pattern.</p> - -<p>And so did the masks! The masks in particular. Think, think hard about -the masks and what the very existence of such masks on the Station -implied.</p> - -<p>The masks could only have been designed to cover the darkest deceit, to -cover the most terrifying treachery.</p> - -<p>How many officers and enlisted men on the Station were wearing masks? -How many? And why? Was <i>every</i> officer on the Station wearing one? If -the masks were thought necessary, if their employment had been made -mandatory, there could be only one explanation.</p> - -<p>Every officer and every enlisted man was masquerading. The Station was -officered and manned by—a word he'd never liked from a dictionary of -obsolete American slang came unbidden into his mind—<i>Phonies!</i></p> - -<p>The thought staggered him. For a moment he rejected it as -inconceivable, outside the bounds of reason. But it remained on the -perimeter of his consciousness and would not be dislodged. It came back -and set itself down where its dominance over his mind could not be -contested.</p> - -<p>What else <i>could</i> it mean? Masks have only one purpose: to enable the -wearer to avoid being recognized.</p> - -<p>Quite obviously the phony officers could be wearing masks for only -one reason: to conceal their real identities while they manned the -Stations, carrying on the tasks of the men they had displaced.</p> - -<p>Carrying on the tasks of the rightful officers, but with a difference. -And that difference would almost certainly be criminal activity on a -wide and daring scale.</p> - -<p>The only question remaining to be answered was how high did that -activity ascend? Did it ascend to the very top, to Commander Clement -himself?</p> - -<p>Fortunately, the violence of space is a controlled violence, and -determined men can slip through it with tools and building materials. -They can base themselves on zero-gravity construction rafts and take -refuge in pressurized crevices, go floating along steel girders five -hundred feet in length until there has been assembled the greatest -of all miracles—a manned Space Station a thousand feet in diameter -encircling Earth at a distance of fifteen hundred miles.</p> - -<p>The Station had not been built in space, it had been built on Earth -section by section. However, the final task of putting it together had -been left to the floating men in their fishbowl helmets, the suicide -brigade with their incredible vacuum equipment and remote control -welding arms.</p> - -<p>Fifty-seven sections had been built on Earth over a period of five -years, thirty-four in the Eastern United States, the rest in scattered -localities from Chicago to the Gold Coast. They had all been sent up -by step rockets into the same narrow orbit around Earth. They were -fifty-seven sections "crash landing" in a total vacuum, weightless and -yet with sufficient mass and inertia to keep them in close proximity -until the great task could get under way.</p> - -<p>The assembled Station was cone-shaped, and it had been a colossal -undertaking to keep it from developing stress defects over a third of -its bulk during the early constructional stages. Under the guidance of -experts, the problem had been solved, but at a tragic price.</p> - -<p>Assembling the Station had cost the lives of fifty-three men, for -there is no easy way to bring together, join, seal and make safe -tons of metal and plastic, intricate machinery and equipment, plus a -thousand-and-one small, incidental contrivances fifteen hundred miles -above the emergency-alert systems and hospital facilities of Earth.</p> - -<p>Some of the men who had lost their lives had been blown out of -transport rocket tubes by mistake. Some had missed their footing too -close to a welding operation that had been halted too late. Some had -floated into capsules full of nitric oxygen gas under high pressure -and had failed to veer away in time. Still others had tugged too -strenuously at heavy girders and the slow, but crushing inertia of an -enormous, backward-swinging beam in free fall had ripped their space -suits asunder and fractured their spines.</p> - -<p>There were five thousand ways of dying in space. But the sacrifice, the -terror, the tragic toll seemed immeasurably remote now, for the roar of -the incoming and outgoing ships made the Station a gigantic reality so -completely in the present that it seemed to have no past.</p> - -<p>Spinning always on its axis, substituting centrifugal force for -the gravity tug of Earth, the Station was a complete world, a -self-contained macrocosm so immense that the magnetic-shod mechanics -who inspected it in relays, the passenger-carrying shuttle rockets from -Earth that came and went, and even the thousand-foot ships that berthed -for re-fueling and clearance seemed hardly to encroach at all on its -vast central bulk.</p> - -<p>And yet, it was something quite apart from the Station's bigness which -came under worldwide scrutiny when the freighter crashed and was -splintered into fragments, channeling a fiery crater in the earth and -causing the most disastrous accidental death toll in United States -history.</p> - -<p>The news was flashed to the four corners of the earth, and almost -simultaneously a flight of United States military jets took off from -the Lake Superior airport to explore the wreckage.</p> - -<p>The first message from the flight commander, Lieutenant Colonel -Hackett, came five hours later. It was tense, grim and it minced no -words. "Wreckage radioactive. Main cargo uranium in a rough ore state. -Explosion and subsequent intense radioactivity apparently caused by an -auxiliary cargo of highly unstable uranium isotopes. If the freighter -had berthed at the Station the dangerous character of its cargo could -not have escaped detection. We have every reason to believe that it -<i>intended</i> to berth at the Station. Its signals to the Station, before -some undeterminable shipboard accident sent it out of control, confirm -this. We must therefore assume complicity of a double nature: by the -freighter's commanding officer, Captain James Summerfield, and by -someone in a position of high command on the Station."</p> - -<p>After that, there was no silencing the slow, relentless events on Earth.</p> - -<p>A week after the tragedy, a U. S. Marine corporal stationed at Port -Forrestal, Wisconsin, put through a late afternoon phono-view call to -his wife. His face on the screen was haggard with strain, and he seemed -not to want to meet his wife's gaze.</p> - -<p>"We've been ordered out into space," he said.</p> - -<p>"You mean they're sending you out to take over the Station?"</p> - -<p>"They're sending out five thousand United States Marines," the corporal -said. "We all knew it was coming. We expected it when that Governmental -Investigating Committee was turned back."</p> - -<p>"But it doesn't make sense. I can't understand it. Why should the -Commander of the Station refuse to permit a Governmental Investigating -Committee to land?"</p> - -<p>"We don't know. He must have something to conceal, and you can be -pretty sure it's an ugly something. When that freighter disaster got -into every daily press conference of the high brass I knew this was -coming. I felt it in my bones."</p> - -<p>"But what will happen if the Commander refuses to let even the Marines -land? What will happen then?"</p> - -<p>"We may have to open fire on the Station," the corporal said. "If the -Station is in criminal hands we'll have no alternative."</p> - -<p>"You talk as if you were in command."</p> - -<p>"I guess every soldier talks like that when his life is in jeopardy. -But I'm glad I'm not a five-star general. If I had to make a decision -like that—"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But it wasn't a general who made the crucial decision. It was Admiral -John Hayes, Commander of the Eighth Spatial Naval Division, acting on -behalf of fifty-seven nations.</p> - -<p>He stood in the bridge room of a United States naval cruiser of massive -tonnage, staring out through a wide-view observation port at the -Station's glimmering immensity. The cruiser and the Station were moving -at almost the same speed, fifteen thousand miles an hour. But now the -cruiser was moving just a little faster than the Station, and Admiral -Hayes was growing impatient.</p> - -<p>Maneuvering into an orbital position almost directly abreast of the -Station had been difficult. Commander Hayes' nerves were badly frayed; -and he was not a man who could endure too much frustration. He had -signaled the Station twice and received no reply. During that time, -both the Station and the Cruiser had completely encircled the Earth at -an interval of just a little under two hours.</p> - -<p>He turned suddenly from the viewport, his lips set in tight lines. He -stared for an instant in silence at the young officer at his side, his -mind groping for an argument which would completely justify what he had -already decided he must do.</p> - -<p>But Lieutenant Commander Kenneth Archer spoke first, saying quietly: -"You have no choice, sir."</p> - -<p>Hayes' features relaxed a little. It was good to know that he had -support from a man whose judgment he respected. For an instant the -awful aloneness which went with supreme command weighed less heavily -upon him.</p> - -<p>"It's absolute defiance, open rebellion," Hayes said. "I'm forced -to assume that the Station is in criminal hands. We'll never know, -probably, just <i>what</i> happened on board that freighter. But we do know -that accidents occur. For every thirty ships that berth securely, one -meets with some kind of navigational mishap. The damage isn't always -irreparable. More often than not, in fact, it's quite minor. Usually -it means only a delay in berthing, a navigational shift, a circling -back for another try. But apparently that freighter really <i>had</i> it. -So it gave the show away. Commander Clement must be in league, hand in -glove, with whoever is interested in smuggling unauthorized uranium -shipments through to Earth for his own personal profit. And to hasten -his immediate profit that someone apparently found it to his advantage -to trigger a little of the shipment into highly fissionable material on -Mars."</p> - -<p>"You know as well as I do who the someone is, sir," Archer said.</p> - -<p>"I guess we both know. But right now my only concern is with the -Station. If they ignore my third order to stand by for boarding I'll -have to open fire. The Station's stolen property just as long as it -remains in criminal hands. You can't get a desperate criminal to -surrender your property unless you convince him his own life is in -danger. I've got to try my best to convince Commander Clement I mean -business without destroying the Station."</p> - -<p>"You'll damage it to some extent, sir. How bad do you think it will be?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I don't intend to launch an atomic warhead. But I can't -stop short of that if he stays stubborn. I've no way of knowing what -his breaking point will be. But I do know that if he keeps control of -the Station he'll be in a position to wipe out New York or London."</p> - -<p>"But you'll make your intentions unmistakably clear before you open -fire, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Hayes said, wearily. "Yes ... of course I will."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>11</h2> - - -<p>Corriston took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So far luck had -favored him. Now he felt as though he were walking through a deadly -jungle where all the animals had suddenly turned friendly. The teeth -they bared at him were smiling. The grins were their masks. But the -commander didn't pretend at all ... whoever the commander really was!</p> - -<p>And then that single question began to gnaw at Corriston like some rat -feeding on his flesh: Where was the real Clement now? Was he alive? Was -he accessible? Or was he dead?</p> - -<p>Corriston's mental processes were now governed by the most evanescent -of impressions: the depth of the shadows on both sides of the corridor; -his own shadow lengthening before him; the drone of machinery deep -within the Station; the muffled beating of his own heart. Suddenly he -was at the end of the corridor and approaching the main control room, -his face as grim as death.</p> - -<p>Violence he had determined upon, but it would be a very brief, a very -effective kind of violence. It takes only a second to rip a mask from a -man's face.</p> - -<p>Something was happening just outside the main control room door. The -three executive officers guarding the door had moved eight or ten paces -down the corridor, and the door itself was standing ajar. The executive -officers had their backs turned to Corriston and were making no attempt -to conceal their agitation. They were very pale, at least, one of them -was. Two had their backs completely turned, but Corriston caught a -brief glimpse of the third man's profile, and it seemed completely -drained of color, as if the mask had stopped mirroring emotion -artificially and had allowed the wearer's actual pallor to seep through.</p> - -<p>Corriston glided quickly to the door, passed through it and shut it -very quietly behind him.</p> - -<p>The commander had his back turned too. He was standing before the -viewport, staring out into space.</p> - -<p>But the commander did seem dazed, did seem stunned. Corriston could -tell by his posture, by the way he held his shoulders, by the utter -rigidity of his neck.</p> - -<p>Then he saw it, the long cylindrical hull touched by a pale glimmer of -starlight, the circular, glowing ports, the massive, atomic-projectile -launching turrets at its base. He saw it through the viewport, saw it -past the commander's stiffening shoulders—an American war cruiser of -formidable tonnage and armed with sufficient fire power to shatter a -small moon.</p> - -<p>All right, let the Big Dark contain it for a moment, poised out there, -ready for any contingency. Right at the moment a scoundrel must be -unmasked in a very stark way. Whatever trouble he had brought upon -himself, he must be made to face it now without the mask.</p> - -<p>Corriston unholstered his gun and walked toward the commander across -the deck. He came up behind him and thrust the gun into the small of -his back.</p> - -<p>"Turn around," he ordered. "Don't make any other move. Just turn slowly -and face me. I want to take a good look at your face."</p> - -<p>If the commander was startled, he didn't show it. Perhaps the -war cruiser had dealt him such a crushing blow that he was no -longer capable of experiencing shock. Or his control may have been -extraordinary. Corriston had no way of knowing and it didn't concern -him too much.</p> - -<p>He was chiefly interested in the commander's eyes. He had never before -seen eyes quite so piercing in their stare or narrowed in quite such an -ugly way.</p> - -<p>The commander spoke almost instantly and his voice had a steel-cold -rasp. "Well?" he said.</p> - -<p>Just a few words—just the shortest possible question he could have -asked.</p> - -<p>Corriston said: "You're wearing a mask, aren't you, commander?"</p> - -<p>The impostor's expression did not change, but his hand went -instinctively to his throat.</p> - -<p>"Remove your tie and unbutton your collar," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>The man made another quick gesture with his hand in the direction of -his throat. But it seemed involuntary, protective, for he did not touch -his collar.</p> - -<p>Corriston shifted his weapon a little, moving the barrel upward until -it pressed very firmly against the commander's breastbone. He reached -out and unbuttoned the commander's collar with his free hand, very -quickly and expertly.</p> - -<p>He was staring at the tiny hooks at the base of the mask when something -happened which made him regret that he had not followed his original -intention of instantly ripping the mask from the man's face.</p> - -<p>The door opened and the three executive officers came into the control -room. For an instant they seemed neither to see nor understand the -situation. They must have seen Corriston, but the fact that he was -wearing a guard's uniform may have given them the idea that he had -every right to be there. The gun was concealed from view and the -commander was standing very quietly by the viewport and quite obviously -incapable of making any move, simply because the slightest move would -have endangered his life.</p> - -<p>So the executive officers went right on talking for an instant, half to -themselves and half to the commander, just as if Corriston had not been -present at all.</p> - -<p>"If that cruiser lands, Ramsey's goose is cooked and ours is too," a -tall officer said. "The instant that freighter crashed I knew they'd -find out quickly enough how the ships had been carrying smuggled -uranium. I knew that under pressure, half of our captains would -talk ... and the crews, too. All the government would have to do is -check and they'd find out that we're Ramsey's men, all of us. They -might even now know about the masks."</p> - -<p>"Why not about the masks?" another officer joined in. "Ramsey paid for -the research that went into them, didn't he? Big tycoon ... fingers in -a dozen pies. When the secret's out, and he puts them on the market, -he'll make important money out of it. But we'll be in prison with just -our own faces staring back at us from a steel wall."</p> - -<p>"Don't worry about that. Ramsey won't profit from the manufacture of -masks. He won't even profit from the false uranium clearance we gave -him. If that cruiser is allowed to land he'll be in prison with us."</p> - -<p>"Better think that over, Commander. You refused to let the Governmental -Investigating Committee land. If a single soldier sets foot on the -Station we're done for. It's not too late to do something about it. -That cruiser can only berth by overtaking us. If we change our orbit -fast and start blasting at them with our rear adjusting rockets they'll -have to keep their distance?"</p> - -<p>"Aren't you forgetting something? A single atomic warhead could blow -the Station apart."</p> - -<p>"We've got to risk that. They'll think a long time before they'll go -that far. The Station's not expendible. If we change our orbit we can -still make contact with the Mars ship that's due to berth in an hour. -We've got to get back to Mars and whatever protection Ramsey can give -us. We'll have his daughter with us. He'll be so glad to see her he'll -go out on a limb to protect us."</p> - -<p>"He'd go out on a limb anyway; He'd have to in order to save himself. -But sure, we'll take the girl. No harm in that. He knows she's here -and will be expecting her. He'll thank us for taking things so quickly -in hand. If that crazy lieutenant had made his story public that -cruiser would have been out there anyway—perhaps even sooner. They'd -have wanted to know on Earth why anyone would want to harm Ramsey's -daughter, something we don't know ourselves."</p> - -<p>Corriston decided then that he'd kept silent long enough. He returned -his gun to its holster, and walked up to the three executive officers, -completely ignoring the commander.</p> - -<p>He heard the commander threaten him in a low tone, heard him say words -which would have caused some men to pause in fear. But Corriston did -not turn.</p> - -<p>There was stunned disbelief in the eyes of the three men facing him. He -spoke quickly, knowing that he had only a moment before the commander -would see that he was seized and restrained. He had to make sure that -the three would hear him out, that the commander would not be instantly -obeyed. Perhaps he couldn't make sure, but at least he could try.</p> - -<p>"I'll make a bargain with you," he said. "I've done reckless things -but I'm not a complete fool. You're going to prevent that cruiser from -berthing and I won't be able to interfere. I'm just one man against -several hundred. All three of you are armed. If I started shooting I'd -get perhaps two of you—no more. Then you'd kill me. I haven't even the -advantage of surprise. I gave that up because I can't believe you're -complete fools either.</p> - -<p>"First, I want to see Helen Ramsey. I want you to let me talk to her. -And when the Mars' ship berths, I want to go to Mars with her. I've -something to offer in return."</p> - -<p>One of the officers stared at him, tightened his lips and stared -harder. "Good God!" he muttered. "Good God! A bargain. You must be out -of your mind. What could you possibly offer? If you had a gun trained -on us—"</p> - -<p>"A witness in your defense," Corriston said. "A witness who will stand -up in court and swear that you did try to protect Helen Ramsey, that -you saved her from a very great danger. You may think that you do not -need a witness now, but before the year is out Ramsey will be on trial -for his life. His wealth won't save him. They know too much about him -now. That freighter explosion killed too many people. The public -outcry will be too great.</p> - -<p>"If you stay on Mars you'll be hunted down like wild animals. They'll -get you in the end and you know it. You'll be brought back to Earth; -you'll stand trial."</p> - -<p>Corriston paused for the barest instant, knowing that the commander too -was listening, knowing from the absence of sound and movement behind -him that his words were being weighed. "I think you know that I would -not break my word. I'll stand up in court and defend you under oath. -I'll be speaking the simple truth. You <i>did</i> save Helen Ramsey from a -very great danger; you probably saved her life. That is sure to weigh -in your favor with any impartial judge and jury. You won't get the -death penalty; I can promise you that."</p> - -<p>It was the commander who spoke first. He said, very quietly. "He's -right, of course. Completely right."</p> - -<p>One of the officers nodded. "There's no reason why we shouldn't let him -talk to the girl. We can decide later whether we like his offer."</p> - -<p>"We're going to like it," the commander said, coming around in front of -Corriston. "He has more sense than I would have given him credit for."</p> - -<p>"So have you, commander," Corriston said, and meant it.</p> - -<p>The commander's eyes were still hostile, unfriendly, but the cold rage -had gone out of them.</p> - -<p>"All right," he said. "Let him see the girl now. Make sure a guard is -stationed at the door. Keeping that cruiser from berthing won't be -easy. They'll keep the Station under fire with small projectiles, even -if they don't attack us with atomic warheads. They'll risk some damage -just to throw a scare into us."</p> - -<p>The officer next to Corriston nudged his arm. "All right," he said. -"But remember this when you talk to her. She doesn't know the truth -about us. She doesn't even know we're wearing masks. We'd like it -better if you didn't say anything about it."</p> - -<p>"Whether she knows it or not isn't too important," Corriston said. "I -suppose you wouldn't care to tell me what you've done with Commander -Clement and the other officers."</p> - -<p>"No, we wouldn't care to tell you. Anything more?"</p> - -<p>"I guess not," Corriston said. "Take me to her."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>12</h2> - - -<p>He was staring at her across a shadowed room, with the pale glimmer -of a cabin viewport above her right shoulder, a very small port that -looked like a full moon glimmering high in the sky through a sea of -mist.</p> - -<p>Her face was very white and she was staring back at him as if he had -come suddenly out of nowhere.</p> - -<p>She hesitated only an instant and then walked straight toward him, -walked right up to him and touched him gently on the face.</p> - -<p>"I'm so glad," she said.</p> - -<p>She drew back then and looked at him and smiled. "I was afraid you were -in trouble because of me," she said, "some terrible kind of trouble, -and I couldn't help you at all. I kept blaming myself for everything -foolish that I had ever done, going way back to the day when I broke -my first doll, deliberately and spitefully, because I was a very -headstrong little girl."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I've always been pretty headstrong myself," Corriston said. -"But being a boy, I naturally couldn't break dolls. I just wrecked the -family's peace of mind."</p> - -<p>"We all go through life with a great deal of foolish luggage," she -said. "And sometimes you have an impulse to just drop everything—and -run away."</p> - -<p>"I can understand that," Corriston said. "But did you have to run -away quite so fast? It's hard to believe it was for anybody's good, -including your own."</p> - -<p>"It might have been," she said. "It might have been for my good and -then later, partly for your good. Please don't judge me too harshly -before I've had a chance to tell you exactly what happened."</p> - -<p>He reached out for her and kissed her even as she came into his arms. -He had expected her to be angry, to withdraw, but instead she encircled -his strong back with a surprising fierceness. When he released her, her -eyes were shining.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you did that ... darling! Very glad. But we're still in -trouble."</p> - -<p>"I know that. But we're in love, too. And you just promised to tell me -what happened."</p> - -<p>"Well, I guess I just ... just regressed."</p> - -<p>"You what?"</p> - -<p>"Regressed. You know, like when I was a headstrong little brat of a -child. We all do that at times. You'll have to admit there was some -excuse for me. You weren't born in a house with a hundred rooms, with -servants always coming and going, and outside gardens with big red -and yellow flowers where you couldn't even run and hide without being -smothered, without being searched for and brought screaming and kicking -back inside.</p> - -<p>"You don't know what it means to know you haven't a father, only -a stern, cold, black-coated man standing away off in the darkness -somewhere and watching people bow down before him.</p> - -<p>"You don't know what it means to be told: 'You're Stephen Ramsey's -daughter. <i>Behave. Behave. Behave!</i>'"</p> - -<p>"I scarcely ever saw my father. And when I did see him he was as cold -as one of the slabs in the big mausoleum he took so much pride in, the -big family mausoleum which only a Ramsey was permitted to visit. And -yet I think he loved me in his own cold way. I think he still does."</p> - -<p>She fell silent for a moment and then an overpowering need to tell -Corriston more seemed to come upon her.</p> - -<p>"I was never allowed to see young men, not even to go for a ride in the -park. Anyone of them might be a fortune seeker, because no young man, -even if he is madly in love with a girl, can quite shut his eyes to -wealth as one additional reason for loving her.</p> - -<p>"So I never saw any young men. I wasn't permitted to even go to a -dance, or walk in the moonlight on a balcony. I wanted to go to dances, -wanted at least one young man to kiss me damned hard."</p> - -<p>"Sure you did," Corriston said. "I understand."</p> - -<p>"I'm going to stop right there, darling. I could tell you what it means -to be free to travel, anywhere, anywhere in the world and to see all of -the white and shining cities, and to be intoxicated by beauty, and to -know at the same time that you are not free, can never hope to be free -as other people are free."</p> - -<p>"And that's why you ran away."</p> - -<p>"Yes, darling, yes, and because that bodyguard was a complete fool. -He was just one of thirty bodyguards my father had hired to protect -me, year after year. But he was the biggest fool of all. He drank too -much and he talked too much. Finally I made up my mind that I would be -better off if I went on to Mars alone. My father had told me I could -come, the trip had been carefully planned down to the smallest detail. -I was to travel incognito. I was to keep to myself until I arrived at -the Station and no one was supposed to know I was even on the ship, not -even the captain. I'm quite sure he didn't know. I think the invitation -to his cabin was a complete fabrication. In fact, I'm sure it was. I -think Clakey—his real name was Ewers—was just drunk enough to make up -a crazy story like that to get me away from you.</p> - -<p>"But I didn't want to get away from you, darling. I wanted to get away -from him. I wanted to have a few days of complete freedom before I -arrived on Mars, and perhaps after that for a day in the colony before -I joined my father. I didn't care how angry he'd be when he saw me -without a bodyguard, alone, wonderfully, gloriously alone and free for -the first time in my life. I didn't want to be Helen Ramsey at all. I -wanted to be somebody else and be completely free.</p> - -<p>"So I went into the ladies room, darling, and I put on the strangest -kind of mask."</p> - -<p>"Yes," Corriston said. "I know."</p> - -<p>"You know about the mask?"</p> - -<p>"Please go on," Corriston said. "I'd rather you didn't ask me how I -know that your father can take pride in at least one constructive -achievement. The masks are extraordinary. I've seen one."</p> - -<p>"But how? Where? I can't believe it. I—"</p> - -<p>"Please," Corriston said. "It isn't too important. I made a necessary -promise that I wouldn't tell you, not immediately. I'm asking you to -trust me and go on."</p> - -<p>"Well, I secured one of those very unusual masks. From the -Gresham-Ramsey Laboratories, before we left Earth. I could go there -anytime I wanted to. All of the research technicians there are quite -old. One of them, Thomas Webb, is really quite handsome. I might have -fallen in love with him if he had been forty years younger. He showed -me just how to adjust the mask. But when I went into the ladies' lounge -I had more than just a mask. I had a complete thin plastic change of -clothing concealed under my dress. I didn't remove my dress, only -reversed my clothing so that the plastic dress covered the one I'd been -wearing."</p> - -<p>Corriston said, "It was a very courageous thing for you to do."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you think so, darling. Because when I came out of the -lounge and saw Ewers killed, I wasn't courageous at all. I became -panic-stricken, terrified, beside myself with fear. I knew that my -father had many dangerous enemies. I knew that I was in immediate, -deadly danger. I <i>had</i> to go on with the disguise then. I had to go -right on being somebody else. I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't even -tell you. I had to let you think that in some strange, bewildering way -I had gone into the lounge and disappeared.</p> - -<p>"I knew you wouldn't really believe that, not for a moment. But I -didn't know what you'd think. I <i>could</i> have told you, I suppose, but -I was afraid it would only make the danger greater, might transfer -some of the danger to you. And I didn't know you'd go straight to the -captain and get yourself into trouble. There were rumors on the Station -that you'd been confined, put under guard. But they were only rumors. -I felt I had to see you, talk to you. I was half out of my mind with -anxiety. I bribed one of the guards to let me out of the quarantine -cage and went in search of you.</p> - -<p>"I searched everywhere, followed passageways at random, got lost in a -maze of machinery."</p> - -<p>"And someone followed you," Corriston said. "He followed you and tore -the mask from your face."</p> - -<p>She looked at him with wide, startled eyes. "How did you know?"</p> - -<p>"I was there," Corriston said. "You fainted and I took you into my -arms—for the very first time. You didn't know that, did you?"</p> - -<p>"How could I have known? If what you say is true, I—"</p> - -<p>Helen Ramsey did not complete what she had started to say. Had she -done so she might not have been thrown so abruptly off-balance by the -suddenly lurching deck; she would have moved closer to Corriston and -could have seized hold of his shoulders for support.</p> - -<p>She did not fall, but she nearly did, and the lurch sent her tottering -all the way to the opposite wall. Corriston saw her collide with the -wall and sink to her knees. At the same instant his own knees collapsed.</p> - -<p>He was lying sprawled out on the deck, too startled and shaken to go -immediately to her aid, when the second lurch came. It spun him about, -and then he was sliding. He couldn't seem to stop the sliding. He went -all the way to the opposite wall too.</p> - -<p>For a brief instant they were together again, locked in a desperate -embrace, their legs higher than their heads. Then the deck righted -itself and the bombardment began.</p> - -<p>It was a terrifying thing to have to listen to, and Corriston preferred -to listen to it on his feet. Slowly he arose and helped his companion -up, holding her in so tight a grip that it seemed to them that they had -been welded together and could never part.</p> - -<p>He was glad that he could be completely sure of one thing. It wasn't -a nuclear bombardment—not yet. The cruiser was merely shelling the -Station. When the cruiser launched an atomic warhead he'd know about -it—rather, he wouldn't know. The fact that he was still alive and -aware of what was going on told him a great deal about the nature of -the bombardment.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" Helen Ramsey whispered. "Do you know?"</p> - -<p>"We're the catspaw in a naval attack," Corriston said. "The commander -took a very great risk."</p> - -<p>It was incredible, but right at the moment he felt himself to be in the -scoundrel's corner. He didn't want the Station to be blown apart in the -great empty spaces between the planets any more than the commander did.</p> - -<p>When Corriston reached the viewport and stared out, the cruiser was -following the Station far off to the side, in an obvious effort to -outmaneuver it by maintaining a parallel rather than a directly -pursuing course. But it was not escaping the swiftly turning Station's -stern rocket jets. Blinding bursts of incandescence spiraled toward it -through the void, and once or twice scored direct hits.</p> - -<p>He saw the cruiser shudder throughout its length, and then draw back, -almost as if it were endowed with life and had nerves and arteries that -could be ripped apart.</p> - -<p>There <i>were</i> mechanical arteries that could easily enough be ripped. -For an instant Corriston stared with a strange kind of detachment, -freed from the terrible tension and uncertainty by his absolute -absorption in the battle itself, freed from the almost mind-numbing -sense of participating in a struggle that could end in utter disaster -for Station and cruiser alike. He knew that if the cruiser maneuvered -in too close, the puffs of flame from the Station's jets could turn -into superheated gases roaring through space, destroying everything in -their path.</p> - -<p>The Station, too, was only a pulsebeat from fiery annihilation. And a -pulsebeat could be terrifyingly brief. But the decision had been made -and there could be no turning back.</p> - -<p>Aboard the cruiser the decision had certainly come from very high up. -Corriston turned the thought slowly over in his mind, still in the grip -of his strange detachment. Just what did "very high up" mean?</p> - -<p>It meant—it had to mean—a conflict of personalities, the -hot-headedness or stubbornness or glory-seeking that went with every -decision made by strong-willed men.</p> - -<p>Aboard the cruiser someone had acted. After consultation? On just an -impulse? In blind rage because the Station had ignored a warning that -had been repeated twice?</p> - -<p>There was no way of knowing. But on the cruiser men were dying. That -was important too. Just how reckless had the decision been?</p> - -<p>In space, military science has never been an exact science. Sonic -echoes alone can kill, and in a pressurized compartment blowups happen. -Jet-supports can be placed at the best of all possible angles and still -fly off into space. Compressed air shot out of pressure vents can turn -bone and flesh into soft oozing jelly.</p> - -<p>The cruiser was changing its course again. It had failed, in a -maneuver, twice repeated, to draw close at almost right angles to -the Station, and had taken terrible punishment from below, above and -straight ahead.</p> - -<p>But the cruiser was still firing. And Corriston not only saw the bursts -of flame, he felt the blasts in his eardrums, his brain and the soles -of his feet. And suddenly he saw flames darting out directly beneath -him, and knew that the Station was on fire.</p> - -<p>Corriston knew that at any moment he could be smashed back against -a bone-crushing wall of metal; he could be pulverized, asphyxiated, -driven mad. And the fear in him—the fear that he wouldn't be able to -control—would be a two-edged sword.</p> - -<p>There was no pain more ghastly than the final burst of agony that came -with a burst open nervous system. It was the most horrible way to die. -But even dying that way wouldn't be half as bad as watching the woman -he loved die.</p> - -<p>Almost as if aware of his thoughts, Helen spoke to him for the first -time since he had crossed to the viewport.</p> - -<p>"It's very strange, darling. I'm calmer now than I have ever been. I -guess it can happen if you love a man so very much that you know your -life would have no meaning if anything should happen to him. It's like -facing up squarely to the fact that you no longer have any existence -apart from him. I've done that, darling, and I'm not afraid."</p> - -<p>There was silence in the cabin for an instant. Then another shell -exploded, and another, and another. Corriston felt light and -dangerously dizzy. It was amazing that he had not been hurled to the -floor, still more amazing that he could have remained for so long -motionless in just one spot.</p> - -<p>Then, abruptly, the bombardment ceased. There was no sound at all in -the cabin, just a silence so absolute that the roaring in Corriston's -ears was like the sound made by an angry sea beating against vast stone -cliffs in a world that had ceased to exist.</p> - -<p>There were no longer any exploding white stars coming from the cruiser. -It was dwindling into the blackness of space, giving up the battle, -conceding defeat. It became thinner and thinner. Suddenly only the reef -remained. Where the cruiser had been there stretched only empty space.</p> - -<p>Corriston turned from the viewport. He crossed the cabin to the cot, -swaying a little, but only from dizziness, and sat down and drew the -girl on the cot close to him. He held her tightly, saying nothing.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>13</h2> - - -<p>Corriston was still sitting on the cot when the door opened and the -commander and two executive officers came into the cabin.</p> - -<p>He was not too surprised, for it had been somehow almost impossible for -him to believe that the commander could have been killed. A scoundrel's -luck and a drunkard's luck were often very much the same thing.</p> - -<p>If the commander had succeeded in quickly putting out the fire he rated -a medal, he was a man for all of that.</p> - -<p>And apparently the commander <i>had</i> succeeded in putting out the fire, -or he would not now be facing Corriston with a grimly urgent look on -his mask.</p> - -<p>Helen Ramsey was staring at him almost as if she were seeing him as he -really was for the first time. Did she know that he was wearing a mask? -There was no possible way she could know, he told himself, except by -intuition. The masks were good. Having worn one herself she ought to -know how good they were. She ought not even to suspect the commander -unless—</p> - -<p>Corriston had no time to finish the thought.</p> - -<p>"Get up, both of you," the commander said, gesturing with his braided -right arm. "The Mars ship has just berthed. We've got to go aboard -before there's any question as to the obedience of the crew. The -captain has been taken off, but we're keeping some of the crew."</p> - -<p>"You—you put out the fire, Commander?"</p> - -<p>"Naturally. I'm not quite the incompetent you think me, Lieutenant."</p> - -<p>"I'm quite sure of that, Commander," Corriston said. "Do we take -anything with us?"</p> - -<p>"You'll get all the extras you need on Mars," the commander said. -"Stephen Ramsey isn't likely to want to see his daughter go about in -rags."</p> - -<p>Corriston decided that the wisest thing he could do was to take the -commander at his word in every important respect; for the moment, -at any rate. There was the little matter of a killer still at large -somewhere on the Station, and the quicker they were in space the safer -Ramsey's daughter would be. Not just in space as the Station was in -space, but much further out in the Big Dark.</p> - -<p>"All right, Commander," he said. "Let's get started."</p> - -<p>Getting started took very little time. A great thankfulness came upon -Corriston when he saw the smooth dark hull of the Mars ship looming -high above him, a thousand foot long cylinder of inky blackness against -a glimmering wilderness of stars.</p> - -<p>The ship was berthed securely beneath a towering network of telemetric -aerials, on a completely circular launching platform that was like a -saucer in reverse, with a contractable metal ramp leading up to the -wide-open, brightly lighted boarding port at its base.</p> - -<p>There were steps on the ramp, but Corriston knew that when the -structure was drawn back into the ship it would collapse like a house -of cards, folded back upon itself.</p> - -<p>Helen Ramsey ascended first. Corriston made certain that she would by -getting in the commander's way with a convincing show of accidental -clumsiness. He pretended to stumble as he began the ascent, to be all -hands and feet.</p> - -<p>The commander swore softly and Corriston was quite sure that he had -not been deceived. But there was very little that he could do about it -under the circumstances. He had to let Ramsey's daughter climb the ramp -first and she was almost at the top before Corriston started up.</p> - -<p>Corriston was halfway to the top, and the commander and the impatient, -tight-lipped executive officers were just starting up, when three tall -figures emerged from the darkness at the base of the ramp.</p> - -<p>The attack took place so quickly that it was over almost before it -started. The commander and the executive officers didn't have a chance. -One of the emerging men had a gun, and he shot the commander in the -stomach with it at almost point-blank range.</p> - -<p>The commander sank down, clutching at his stomach, bent nearly double. -Even from where Corriston was standing, he could see the blood -trickling down his right leg. The terrible dark wetness directly -over the wound was of course invisible, completely concealed by the -commander's tightly laced arms.</p> - -<p>The startled, badly frightened officers turned and tried to get away. -But they didn't get far. The man who had shot the commander picked them -off like clay pigeons, one by one, as they fled.</p> - -<p>His two companions did not even seem to be armed. They just stood -quietly watching the executive officers die. They died on the launching -platform and on the smooth deck beyond, two of them simply dropping in -their tracks, a third sprawling grotesquely, and the last staggering -on for a few paces. There were four executive officers, and not one -escaped. It was butchery, pure and simple, cruel, savage beyond belief.</p> - -<p>Helen Ramsey was already on the ship, and there was no possible way for -him to get her off.</p> - -<p>The thought that he was himself in the deadliest kind of danger never -even crossed his mind.</p> - -<p>The killer returned his gun to its holster very slowly and -deliberately, and then he took it out again. It was a very strange -gesture, when every passing second must have been of vital importance -to him, but it revealed something very unusual about the man. He -evidently liked to feel that he had completed one job and packaged it -to his entire satisfaction, before going on to another.</p> - -<p>It was that more than anything else which jolted Corriston into -complete awareness, and made it impossible for him to doubt the -reality, the utter horror, of what had taken place. The killer had -gestured to his companions, and he was coming up the ramp.</p> - -<p>He came slowly up the ramp, and for the first time Corriston saw his -face. It was not a face that he would ever forget or ever want to -forget. It was the face of the man he had grappled with in the dark and -seen once in the light. But now his features were turned away. It was -exactly the kind of face which Corriston had pictured him as having, -except that it was just a little uglier looking. The slant of the -cheekbones even crueler, harsher, the eyes more venomously narrowed, -the mouth an uglier gash.</p> - -<p>"All right, Lieutenant," he said, gesturing with the gun. "Go on ahead. -Go on board. We're going to need you to help pilot this ship to Mars."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>14</h2> - - -<p>The silence in the chart room was like the hush that comes over a -desert when hurricane winds have died down, or like the stillness of a -rocky coast when waves have ceased to pound, and dangerous rocks stand -out with all of their saw-edged teeth exposed.</p> - -<p>It was extraordinary how, at the point of a gun, a man could think and -act almost automatically, and postpone making any decision at all. It -wasn't cowardice; Corriston was quite sure of that. He felt only anger, -deep, relentless, all-consuming. Sweat oozed in droplets from his -brow, but it was the heat and the tension which made his skin stream -with moisture. There was no immediate fear in him at all.</p> - -<p>He'd kept fear at bay by refusing to let his mind leap ahead. Only the -gun at his back mattered, and just why it should have mattered so much -was the only thing that puzzled him.</p> - -<p>It did not occur to him that what some men dread most is the fear of -dying too abruptly, without foreknowledge and with just a second's -glimpse of something cold and deadly before the final blackout. A gun -had that kind of power.</p> - -<p>The man with the gun had asked Corriston a great many questions, -urgently practical questions that dealt with cold statistics concerning -zero-gravity, solar radiation, space drift and the length of time it -would take to reach Mars if a single pilot took full advantage of the -automatic controls and never allowed himself to become reckless.</p> - -<p>Corriston had replied to the best of his ability and knowledge, and the -other had accepted his answers with a quiet grunt of satisfaction. It -was only after that, when the silence had lengthened almost unendurably -between them, that the more personal questions came.</p> - -<p>The killer jabbed the gun more firmly against Corriston's spine and -asked in a cold, flat voice: "Do you know who I am, Corriston? Have you -any idea?"</p> - -<p>Corriston stared out the viewport for a moment without replying, his -face deathly pale. "I don't know your name," he said. "Probably that's -not too important. I do know that you're a cold-blooded murderer, and -that killing gives you pleasure. I am very tired. I wish you wouldn't -question me any more."</p> - -<p>"Do you think you can pilot this ship to Mars, tired as you are?"</p> - -<p>Corriston nodded.</p> - -<p>The pressure of the gun barrel diminished. "I am very glad—for your -sake. I suppose I might as well tell you my name. It's Henley, Richard -Henley. We'll be seeing a lot of each other before this trip is ended, -but you'll find that I'm not a particularly talkative man. When I have -something important to say, though, I won't leave you in any doubt as -to what I want done. Right now I must warn you that I would just as -soon kill you as not."</p> - -<p>"You're lying," Corriston said. "If you killed me now you'd never get -to Mars. You need me and you know it."</p> - -<p>"Corriston."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Don't assume too much. There are practical advantages in keeping you -alive but a wrong move on your part could outweigh them. I'd have a -fair chance of getting to Mars without your help. I know more than you -think about spatial navigation. And the automatic controls are far -from unreliable. Without them it would take at least five men to pilot -a ship this size to Mars. With their aid a single experienced pilot -should be able to accomplish it. I'm pretty sure you've had enough -officer training school to qualify as a pilot. A ship's inspection -officer has to be able to navigate a ship; I've checked on that. But -you're certainly no expert, and if you force my hand I'll take my -chance with the auto-controls and my own limited knowledge."</p> - -<p>"You'll be taking a chance, all right," Corriston said. "What would you -do if the observation glass started showing small pits in the hull from -a very large shower of micro-meteorites? Can the auto-controls stop -those pits from spreading? I've seen a ship stippled all over in less -than ten minutes. The meteor guards won't deflect micro-meteorites, -and you've got to alter your velocity and angle of drive and a lot of -other things fast. And what happens when your instruments start showing -light spectra peculiarities that can't be measured in angstroms? Just -a little oddity like that can force you to change your course, but the -auto-pilot won't know a thing about it.</p> - -<p>"And when you hit the Martian atmosphere and start firing against -the direction of motion, how much good do you think limited knowledge -will do you? Remember, nearly all of the journey will have been made -in free fall, and in free fall the auto-controls are fairly efficient. -But the instant you hit the atmosphere the slightest miscalculation in -the utilization of your fuel reserves can lead to absolute disaster. I -don't know what makes you tick, of course. You may get a distorted kind -of pleasure from thinking of yourself as a man marked for death, the -same kind of pleasure you get from killing people."</p> - -<p>There was silence for a moment. Then Henley drew in his breath sharply -and said: "Are you threatening me, Corriston?"</p> - -<p>"Just warning you," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"I don't take kindly to warnings, Corriston. If you're not careful I'll -put a bullet right through you."</p> - -<p>"Do the men who hired you know how you operate, Henley?"</p> - -<p>It was a stab in the dark, but it brought a quick, enraged reply. "How -I operate is my own business. And I don't like the word 'hire.' I'd -advise you not to use it again. Ramsey's uranium steal made every miner -on Mars decide straight off that I was the right man to lead them. -They're all in back of me, but they don't control me. I take orders -from no one."</p> - -<p>"Maybe they wouldn't be in back of you if they knew what a scoundrel -you are," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"You may think whatever you please. I don't mind your calling me a -scoundrel if it will ease your mind. Just don't use the word 'hire.'"</p> - -<p>"I don't see why you should object to it," Corriston went on -recklessly. "It protects you, in a way. It's a good word to hide -behind. If the colonists knew the truth about you, I don't think you'd -last very long."</p> - -<p>"I'll last long enough to help you dig your own grave, Corriston, -if you keep on with that line of talk. You're the real lucky one. I -missed killing you on the Station because my aim was bad. You were an -unexpected complication and you were keeping me upset. I didn't like it -at all."</p> - -<p>"Go ahead. I knew too much. Was that it?"</p> - -<p>"Partly. I didn't know how much you knew or how much you'd guessed. But -you were in a position to start a lot of high-powered stuff that could -have interfered with my plans in a dozen ways. Now I happen to need -you—to a limited extent. But I'm warning you again. Don't trade on -your luck. Don't force me to kill you, Corriston."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I won't. Perhaps we can strike a compromise. As I see it, -there's no need for immediate violence. Suppose you take me just a -little more fully into your confidence. It can do you no harm now; and -there are a few things I'm still curious about."</p> - -<p>"All right, Corriston. What is it you'd like to know?"</p> - -<p>"How did you manage to stay concealed on the Station when Ramsey's -officers were in full command? You had considerable freedom of -movement, apparently, even if you had to move with caution."</p> - -<p>"We had everything planned in advance," Henley said. "We got to one of -Ramsey's men with bribe money the miners raised, an executive officer -named Stockton. We made it worth his while. We had a carefully worked -out plan for smuggling Helen Ramsey off the shuttle ship and keeping -her hidden until the Mars ship arrived. Stockton had everything -prepared: a concealed compartment, food, made our problem more -complicated. Stockton helped us get out of the quarantine cage and kept -right on protecting us until we no longer needed him."</p> - -<p>"Then you must have known about the masks. You must have known before -you arrived that Ramsey's men were in complete control of the Station."</p> - -<p>"Sure we knew, long before Earth found out. We know exactly what had -taken place. You'd be surprised what a few carefully placed bribes can -do. We knew that Ramsey had laid himself wide open by substituting his -own men for the Station's commanding officers. We knew exactly how -vulnerable he was."</p> - -<p>"I see," Corriston said. "Ramsey was so vulnerable that any determined -attack made upon him would have had a fair chance of succeeding. But -you worked out a plan for striking at him in a wholly criminal way, -through his daughter. Did the miners know that, Henley? Or did they -just give you their backing in a general way? You probably seemed to -them the kind of man who would go after Ramsey hammer and tongs."</p> - -<p>"Suppose we just say they knew I'd find a way to make Ramsey meet -all of our demands." Henley smiled thinly. "The details they left to -me." He paused an instant, then went on: "Right after Helen Ramsey -disappeared, I did some hard thinking. It occurred to me that she might -be wearing a mask too. So I watched all of the women in the quarantine -cage and when one of them slipped out I followed her."</p> - -<p>"As simple as that!"</p> - -<p>"It wasn't simple. The girl's disappearance on the shuttle ship had me -completely baffled at first. It wasn't until we reached the Station -that the mask possibility occurred to me."</p> - -<p>"We talked about that once before, remember?"</p> - -<p>"You were lucky then, Corriston. I tried very hard to kill you, simply -because I thought you knew more about Helen Ramsey's disappearance than -you actually did. In that dark cargo compartment, with time running out -on me, I couldn't think very clearly. Anything more you'd like to know?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. How many men did Ramsey succeed in substituting for the rightful -officers? How many, beside the commander?"</p> - -<p>"Eight, including the commander. His real name was Henry Hervet. Five -were executive officers, two were security guards. They're all dead -now."</p> - -<p>Corriston's mouth went dry. "Including the one who sold out and helped -you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Stockton was the first to die. He was dead before the others -tried to board this ship. I made sure of that. He was too greedy for -his own good."</p> - -<p>"You got back the money you gave him, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"Naturally. Money is of very little value to a dead man."</p> - -<p>Corriston had gone very pale. There was dread in his eyes when he -asked: "And the real Commander Clement? What happened to him? Where is -he now?"</p> - -<p>"Stockton told me that after a mask was made of his face he was -imprisoned somewhere on the Station," Henley said. "Clement and seven -others. Ramsey gave Hervet strict orders not to kill them. I don't -know where Clement is now, but I can make a pretty good guess. He has -probably been released and is in full command of the Station again."</p> - -<p>Henley stood very still for a moment, very straight and still, and -Corriston could feel the gun nudging the small of his back again.</p> - -<p>"I may as well tell you now that I'm going to have to lock you in, -Corriston," Henley said. "When I turn the key on this room your sole -responsibility will be right here with the controls. You'll have to -sleep and eat here, and I don't intend to bring you any fancy meals. -You'll hear a knock on the door three times a day. You'll get a tray -with some food on it.</p> - -<p>"You'll have to decide for yourself how much sleep you can afford to -take. And remember this: I'll be keeping a careful check on every -navigational move you make. Not a too accurate check, perhaps, but I'll -know enough. If you throw the ship off course I'll find out about it, -and I'll want to know why. Be ready with your answers and make sure -they carry weight. Any more questions, Corriston?"</p> - -<p>Corriston shook his head. "No. The quicker you get out of here the -better I'll feel."</p> - -<p>"All right, I'll leave you now. It's naturally to my benefit to try to -see things from your point of view. And just in case you're worrying -about Helen Ramsey—don't. Nothing is going to happen to her, provided -you stay in line. If you want me don't hesitate to buzz. That's what -the intercom is for."</p> - -<p>Corriston looked around once when Henley was on his way to the door. -The man hadn't turned away from him. He was backing toward the door, -his lips tight, his eyes mocking, coldly derisive.</p> - -<p>"Did you think I'd give you a chance to catch me with my guard down, -Corriston? If you did, you're a bigger fool than I thought you. This -gun stays with me, and it's going to be centered on you every time I -open this door. Remember that, Lieutenant."</p> - -<p>The journey to Mars was a long wait. It was a standing and a waiting, -with a hundred corrective power maneuvers to be checked at every hour -of the day and night. It was sleep without rest and rest without sleep, -and it was a battle against dizziness and the despair which can come to -a pilot when a panel starts flickering a red danger signal in the utter -loneliness of interplanetary space.</p> - -<p>The ship was never too hot, never too cold, for the temperature was -kept stable by thermostat-controlled radiation shutters and the air -was kept pure with the aid of carbon filters. But to Corriston the air -conditioning system with all of its elaborate controls seemed only to -point up and emphasize the lack of stability elsewhere, both inside and -outside the ship.</p> - -<p>There were so many things that could go wrong—tragically, dangerously, -fatally wrong. For no reason at all, for instance, a recently inspected -filter or gasket could go completely bad, and a "no juice" blow up -threaten. Or a magnetic guidance tape could jam and stop recording, and -the ship could deviate a hair's breadth from its prescribed path and -forget to swing completely back again.</p> - -<p>Eventually a correction might be made, but if you failed to correct it -in time, that one tiny deviation could spell disaster. With every day -out there were more details to check, while obstacles mounted and it -was impossible ever to quite catch up with what you had to do, and go -on with complete confidence to the next task.</p> - -<p>Worst of all, Corriston was denied all opportunity to see or speak to -the woman he loved.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The trip to Mars took fourteen days. And in all that time Corriston -did not once see Helen Ramsey. He saw only Henley, heard only the deep -drone of the engines, and at times, when he was close to despair, the -dull, steady beating of his own heart.</p> - -<p>The door to his prison would open and a tray of food would be pushed -forward into the compartment. Then the door would close quietly again, -and he would be alone.</p> - -<p>In some respects he was imprisoned in a way that was almost too -unbelievable for the human mind to grasp. The walls of his cell were -the constellations, the barriers to his freedom space itself.</p> - -<p>The chartroom was a cell too, but it had no real confining power over -him. He could walk out of the chart room simply by unlocking the -viewport and swinging it wide open. He could walk out into the larger -prison of space—and die in five seconds with his lungs on fire.</p> - -<p>On the thirteenth day Mars loomed out of the inscrutable darkness ahead -like some great accusing eye that had fastened itself on the ship with -a malignance all its own. It filled one-fifth of the viewport, rust-red -over most of its surface, but also pale blue in patches, a blue which -shaded off into a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to hover chiefly -like the shifting, almost hueless cloudiness of a hot summer haze.</p> - -<p>On the morning of the fifteenth day, the ship, decelerating under -sidethrusts from its powerful retardation rockets, cut off its engines -and, free-coasting through a landing ellipse of seventy degrees, landed -safely on Mars.</p> - -<p>It landed in the open desert, twenty miles from Ramsey's citadel, -and eighty-seven miles from the first Martian colony. But Corriston -received no praise at all for his navigational skill.</p> - -<p>Five minutes after the engines ceased to throb a blow on the head -felled him, a brutal blow from behind.</p> - -<p>"Tie him up," Henley said. "We're not killing him, not just yet."</p> - -<p>"But I don't see why—" a cold voice started to protest.</p> - -<p>"Damn you, Stone, I know what I'm doing. Keep your thoughts to -yourself."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>15</h2> - - -<p>Corriston sat very straight and still in the darkness, his back against -cold metal, his eyes on the distant glow of the heating lamp. He could -see the lamp through a wide panel opening in the bulkhead directly -opposite him. Wherever his eyes fell there was the glimmer of light on -metal. But the warmth of the lamp would have left him close to freezing -had it not been supplemented by the heating units inside his heavy -clothing.</p> - -<p>He didn't know how he was going to free himself. His hands were -securely handcuffed and the sharp metal was biting into his flesh. -Turning and twisting about did him no good at all.</p> - -<p>He didn't know how he was going to free himself, but he refused to give -up hope. There had to be a way.</p> - -<p>You could begin on one of your captors, on a human being with a great -deal to lose or gain. You could try to penetrate his armor, sound out -his human weaknesses. Or you could set to work on the handcuffs at your -wrists, struggling in an almost hopeless attempt to draw your hands -through them in some way or get them unlocked without a key.</p> - -<p>He decided to try the first way. He raised his voice. "Stone?" he -called out. "Can you hear me?"</p> - -<p>There ensued a silence. Then Stone's voice came back loud and clear. -"Sure, I can hear you. What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"I'd like to talk to you," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"About what?"</p> - -<p>"About you. What are you getting out of this? You've nothing to lose by -being frank with me. Henley would never believe anything I might say."</p> - -<p>"You're right about that," Stone said. "But why should I talk to you? -I'll tell you something that may surprise you. Keeping you alive was -Henley's idea. He figured we might need you. He figured that if Ramsey -wouldn't listen to us he might listen to you—a Space Station officer. -He figured we might need you to convince Ramsey we're not bluffing. -Someone who <i>knows</i> we're not bluffing. Someone who knows we'd kill his -daughter before we gave him a third chance to make up his mind and hand -over the dough."</p> - -<p>"A <i>third</i> chance? I thought—"</p> - -<p>"You think too much, Corriston. I'll spell it out for you. Henley is on -his way now to give Ramsey his first chance. He may succeed or he may -not. If he doesn't succeed he'll come back and take you to the fortress -with him. That will be Ramsey's second chance. He won't get a third."</p> - -<p>"I see," Corriston said. "But I asked you a question you didn't answer. -How much do you stand to get out of this? What is your split, your -percentage? Don't tell me; I'll guess. Henley is promising you fifteen -or twenty thousand dollars. But how much ransom do you think he'll get -from Ramsey? Two million, at least. Possibly twenty million. Does that -kind of split satisfy you, Stone? Remember, when that ransom is paid, -every law enforcement agency on Earth goes into operation. It starts -off in a quiet suite of offices, with just one owl-faced little guy -shuffling some papers.</p> - -<p>"It starts off that way, but in the space of one hour you're a man -marked for destruction. The military goes into action. From Earth -to Mars your photograph is televised. Ten thousand trained experts -are thrown into the operation. You've suddenly become important, an -accessory to the kidnapping of the wealthiest girl on Earth.</p> - -<p>"How does that set with you, Stone? They'll get you in the end. No, -I'll qualify that. They'll get you unless Ramsey gives you a split of -at least a million dollars. With a million dollars you'd have a one in -five chance of covering your tracks, of hiding out indefinitely. But -Ramsey won't give you anything like that kind of a split. You know that -as well as I do. He'll have to cover his own tracks and he'll need all -of the two million—or twenty million—for himself. Or most of it.</p> - -<p>"I'm not telling you anything you don't know. Your real interest lies -in preventing that kidnapping before it's too late. He's getting ready -to double-cross you, Stone. It was in the back of his mind all the -time. He's looking out only for himself."</p> - -<p>"I don't think so," Stone said. "My split, since you brought the matter -up, is half a million. He's demanding six million in ransom. That's -twelve times what I'm getting and what Jim Saddler is getting. But I've -no complaints. He organized and planned everything.</p> - -<p>"I'll be honest with you. That doesn't mean a damn thing to me. I'm no -good when it comes to taking a risk like that, but does that mean he's -better than I am? Do you think I'd string along with him if I believed -that for a moment?</p> - -<p>"Hell, no. I'm using him, don't you see? I'm letting him take the big -gamble, and I stay in the background ... doing practically nothing. So -if I clear a half million, what have I to complain about?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, I suppose," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"You're damned right. But I don't think I like the way you said that. -There's something in your voice that I don't like."</p> - -<p>"That's too bad," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"Maybe you think I don't mean what I said. Is that it?"</p> - -<p>Corriston tightened his lips. He could hear Stone's footsteps coming -toward him through the darkness. They were heavy steps, advancing -slowly, with a slight shuffling sound. They paused twice and then came -on again, and the silence between pauses seemed almost crushingly thick.</p> - -<p>Corriston suddenly realized that he knew almost nothing about Stone. -He had taken the man pretty much for granted, a killer's accomplice -without much personality, a sullen-faced scoundrel who was good at -obeying orders and standing ready to silence anyone Henley disliked -with a well-placed kick in the head.</p> - -<p>But what if he did have personality after all? Suppose there were -hidden depths in him, a hidden reservoir of malice which he kept -concealed until he felt a mad impulse to start laughing or bragging or -proving to someone he disliked that he was as potentially dangerous as -Henley—perhaps even more dangerous. And suppose he decided to back -up his boasting with a quick knife thrust or a gun blast at almost -point-blank range?</p> - -<p>It wasn't a pleasant thought, and the flicker of a match between -Stone's cupped hands did nothing to dispel Corriston's uneasiness. The -small, bright flame brought Stone's features into sharp relief for an -instant. The lips had an ugly set to them, and the eyes were slitted, -gleaming. He was making no effort to keep his hate from showing, and -the instant the match went out he lit another.</p> - -<p>He seemed to be advancing slowly on purpose, as if aware that his -stealth and deliberation had begun to un-nerve Corriston. Corriston -felt himself stiffening, moving more closely back against the wall. -Breathing quickly, he told himself that he hadn't much time, that he -must be careful not to overreach himself.</p> - -<p>There was another moment of silence, of stillness, while the shuffling -ceased. Then Stone was very close in the darkness, his hands cupped -about a third match, a mocking smile on his lips.</p> - -<p>It was a blunder on his part. Before he could move again Corriston was -upon him.</p> - -<p>There are times when a handcuffed man is at a disadvantage in a -furiously waged and uncertain struggle, but Corriston suffered no -disadvantage. For ten minutes he had been reminding himself that a blow -along the side of the neck, just under the jaw, could paralyze and even -kill if it were delivered with sufficient force.</p> - -<p>A sharp, flat-of-the-hand blow could do it. But handcuffs were better, -and Corriston lashed out now with his manacled wrists upraised, so -that the handcuffs grazed Stone's neck twice lightly and then almost -splintered his jawbone with a rotor-blade violence.</p> - -<p>The blow not only stunned Stone, it lifted him clear of the deck. He -staggered forward and fell heavily, his breath leaving his lungs in an -agonizing sob.</p> - -<p>Corriston leaned back against the wall again for an instant, breathing -heavily. Then he knelt beside Stone and went through his pockets -until he found the handcuff key. It was difficult. He had to do a lot -of awkward fumbling with his fingers, and even with the key in his -possession, getting the cuffs off was far from easy. But somehow he -managed it, perhaps because he had unusually flexible fingers and knew -that if he failed, Stone would see to it that he got no second chance -this side of eternity.</p> - -<p>He stood very straight and still in the darkness, his eyes focused on -Stone's white face. There was no need for him to strike a match. He had -taken from Stone not only the key, but a small pocket flashlight which -Stone had apparently preferred not to use.</p> - -<p>There was something else he had taken from Stone—his gun. He held the -weapon now, very firmly centered on Stone, while he waited for him to -come to.</p> - -<p>Ordinarily he wouldn't have cared if Stone had never opened his -eyes again; but now he had to wait and see. The ship was so large -that to explore it compartment by compartment until he found the one -in which Helen Ramsey was being held prisoner would be dangerously -time-consuming. So, if Stone recovered consciousness within fifteen or -twenty minutes and could tell him, so much the better.</p> - -<p>If not, better wait and see. He waited, shifting his gun only a little -from weariness as the minutes dragged on, wondering if he had not made -a mistake in waiting at all.</p> - -<p>Finally Stone stirred and groaned. Corriston bent and shook him by the -shoulders. He took firm hold of his shoulders and shook him vigorously, -feeling no pity for him at all.</p> - -<p>He got the truth out of him by threatening him with violence, by -threatening to kill him if he kept anything back. Stone kept nothing -back. Just remembering the blow that had felled him, loosened his -tongue. But the gun helped too, the gun wedged so closely against his -ribs under his heart that he feared that if he breathed too heavily he -would breathe his last.</p> - -<p>"I won't lie to you," he said desperately, pleadingly. "You haven't a -chance. There's a photoelectric alarm system outside the compartment, -and Jim Saddler is sitting just inside the door. He has a gun trained -on her. His orders are to shoot her dead if anyone so much as attempts -to get inside that door."</p> - -<p>"Meaning me?"</p> - -<p>"It means you, Lieutenant. I'm not lying; I swear it. You won't stand a -chance. Henley will be coming back in a few hours now. You'd better get -out while you're still in one piece."</p> - -<p>Corriston was tempted to hurl Stone back against the wall and shout at -him: "It doesn't matter whether I go out of here in one piece or dead -on a stretcher. She's the only thing I care about."</p> - -<p>But he caught himself just in time. Stone thought in the most -primitive imaginable terms. You couldn't go to a Stone Age man and say: -"My own skin doesn't mean a goddam thing to me. I'm in love. If she -dies I die. Can't you understand that? If she dies, my life will be -over."</p> - -<p>He said instead: "All right. I guess it means I've got to get help."</p> - -<p>"You'll never get help," Stone said, summoning from some defiant depths -within himself a little courage. "The colony is eighty-seven miles from -here. You couldn't cross the desert on foot. No one could cross it on -foot, not when the temperature drops at night to fifty below. But you'd -better not stay. He'd better head for Ramsey's citadel. That's your -only chance. It's only twenty miles from here."</p> - -<p><i>Let him think that</i>, a voice within Corriston warned. Let him think -that I'll head for the citadel. Otherwise he may attempt to get word to -Ramsey somehow. I can tie him up and leave him in a state of shock, but -if he thinks I'm heading for the colony, even a state of shock may not -stop him. Saddler may come down here looking for him. Once he's freed, -if he thinks I'm heading for the Colony....</p> - -<p>Corriston said: "Damn you, Stone, I ought to kill you. I ought to put a -bullet through your heart right now. I don't know why I can't. It's a -weakness in me."</p> - -<p>"I'd kill <i>you</i>, Corriston, if <i>I</i> had the chance. But I'm glad you -have that kind of a weakness."</p> - -<p>Corriston stared at him incredulously. "You're certainly outspoken. You -were pleading for your life a moment ago—going soft, as you'd put it. -Now you're talking realistically, analyzing your own motivations and -mine."</p> - -<p>"I'm not quite as dumb as you think me, Corriston."</p> - -<p>"All right. Let's say you're not dumb. Few people are, when it comes to -a matter of life or death. That's beside the point right now. I've got -to tie you up. Where can I find some rope?"</p> - -<p>"It would be much simpler to lock me in a vacant compartment."</p> - -<p>"All right. Then I'll lock you in one of the compartments. You can -pick your own compartment. I'd advise you not to waste my time. Pick -your own compartment and I'll slide the bolt fast on the outside."</p> - -<p>Stone showed no disposition to put up an argument. Corriston kept the -gun pressed into the small of his back and he seemed to realize that -his life hung by a thread.</p> - -<p>They found a compartment that was small and dark, and into it Stone -walked at gunpoint, offering no protest, and answering the questions -Corriston put to him readily enough.</p> - -<p>"You'll find all the equipment you need at the end of this passageway," -Stone said. "Activate the third door on your left. Anything else you'd -like to know?"</p> - -<p>Corriston shook his head. He walked out of the compartment backwards, -keeping his gun trained on Stone until he was in the corridor. Then he -swung the door shut and shot the bolt home.</p> - -<p>He had no trouble at all in finding the equipment he knew he'd need, -thanks to Stone's generosity. Stone could afford to be generous, he -reflected bitterly. The Henley combine still held all of the trump -cards.</p> - -<p>He cursed the time it took him to equip himself for a near-suicidal -crossing of eighty-seven miles of Martian desert. He would travel on -foot, after nightfall, and in freezing cold. The compartment in which -he labored was a basal compartment, and set in the massive bulkhead, -against which he leaned with his bootstraps still unlaced, was an -airlock opening directly on the Martian plain.</p> - -<p>He collected the smaller articles first, setting them down in a row on -a long metal bench directly opposite the airlock: three compasses, each -weighing perhaps twenty ounces; a cathode ray compass; a non-magnetic -compass and a sun compass. The sun compass would perhaps prove the most -valuable until darkness fell. The sun, shining down with brilliance -from the clear Martian sky, could throw a directional kind of shadow, -enabling a man on foot to take fairly accurate bearings without the use -of sighting and viewing instruments.</p> - -<p>To the compasses on the bench he added five map coordinates and a -Lambert conformal projection chart.</p> - -<p>Food concentrates came next: four shining aluminum cubes, four inches -by four inches, which would go into the knapsack on his back. Then a -canteen, already filled with sterilized water from the ship's central -water supply system.</p> - -<p>Next, he took from the locker the right kind of clothing: a tubeflex -inner suit with a warm lining and a heavy outer suit equipped with heat -lamps.</p> - -<p>Oxygen masks next—oxy-respirators, to be exact. One to attach to the -face and one to hold in reserve as a spare. They covered only a third -of the face, but that third had everything to do with a man's staying -alive and vigorous in the thin air of Mars. When night fell, and the -cold descended, oxy-respirators were not enough. Then you had to pull -down the entire front of your helmet and stagger on with your sight -impaired, for in a cold that was almost beyond endurance, helmets had a -way of clouding over from time to time.</p> - -<p>The clouding over of the vision plate was not too important. It could -be constantly wiped clean. But if his brain started "clouding over" -too....</p> - -<p>He dismissed the possibility from his mind. He was clothed now, fully -clothed, and ready to depart.</p> - -<p>He started moving toward the airlock, feeling and looking like a giant -beetle of the tropics, feeling awkward, cumbersome and insecure. His -boots were weighted, and the bulge of the oxygen tank on his shoulder -made him look almost hunchbacked in the cold light glimmer that turned -the bulkhead into a mirroring surface as he advanced.</p> - -<p>He manipulated the airlock and it opened with a slow, steady droning -and then he was passing through it, still moving awkwardly....</p> - -<p>At last! He was out on the Martian desert in bright sunlight, staring -up at the clear blue sky.</p> - -<p>The first few miles were not difficult at all. He walked away from -the ship with his shoulders held straight, the cumbersome feeling -dissipated by the lightness of his stride in the incredibly light -gravity.</p> - -<p>The air pressure about him was less than seventy millimeters of -mercury. The thought sprouted in his mind that he was the god Mercury -striding along with winged shoes, and for the first five miles his -weighted boots did seem to develop wings.</p> - -<p>Then the temperature began slowly to drop. The sun sank lower. Its -brightness diminished, and his cheeks began to tingle with the cold.</p> - -<p>There was a slight wind blowing over the desert, raising dust flurries -on the summits of the tallest dunes, causing the gray patches of crust -lichen, which were scattered widely over the plain, to change color as -their threadlike surfaces were ruffled by the breeze.</p> - -<p>Far in the distance he could see a "canal," one of those strange -blue-green declivities in the terrain which looked from the air like an -actual waterway, and had deceived—or bewildered—three generations of -men.</p> - -<p>Despite the increasing cold, Corriston did not moderate his stride. -He let his thoughts dwell on the most imaginative of the canal -speculations. It had been proven completely false, but its originality -fascinated him. Long ago, the theory held, there had been volcanic -activity on Mars. Great faults or fissures had opened up in the -planet's crust, and when the coming of spring thawed the polar ice -caps, curtains of fog swirled equatorward, filling those natural -crevices with swirling rivers of mist.</p> - -<p>Corriston stopped walking for a moment, shifting the weight of his -equipment slightly, easing a too heavy drag on his right shoulder. He -made sure that the thin flexible tube which connected his oxygen mask -with the small tank on his back was securely clipped into place at both -ends, tested the harness buckle which supported supplies which were as -necessary to him as breathing, and took a turn up and down the sand, -stamping, shaking himself, to make absolutely certain that nothing -vital had been jarred loose.</p> - -<p>Then he was under way again, moving along at a steady pace over the -rust-red desert, the ship now lost to view far behind him, his mind -leaping ahead to the very great dangers which he was determined to face -and overcome so long as one slender thread of hope remained.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>16</h2> - - -<p>It might have been almost any sleepy little town on Earth, picked at -random from a train window—a dust bowl town with a prairie name: -Hawk's Valley, Buzzard's Gulch, and the like. It might have been, but -it wasn't.</p> - -<p>The buildings were thinner, of more precarious construction, and each -had been built to house three or more families. They were at unusual -angles on sloping ledges where the soil was firm enough to resist -overnight erosion from winds of hurricane force, and in many places -their prefabricated metal foundations were pierced and supported by -shafts of solid rock.</p> - -<p>Without modern technology at its most advanced, the town could never -have been built. Yet in the streets of the town there was a village -rudeness of construction which no pioneering effort could quite efface: -a wide main street that gleamed red in the sunlight on which three -caterpillar tractors stood stalled, their guard rails caked with -yellow mud; a pool of stagnant black water with a wooden plank thrown -haphazardly across it; a discarded fuel container upended against a -half-rusted away metal cable, and the remnants of an hydraulic actuator -overgrown with hardy lichens that had colored it yellow and ash gray. -And here and there, projecting from the tumbled sand, were spiny -cactus-like growths.</p> - -<p>Yet it was not too small a town. Its inhabitants numbered eight -thousand, two-thirds of them men. There were ninety-seven children. It -was not too small a town, and now, in each of the houses, a new day was -beginning.</p> - -<p>At least thirty men and a few women had collected about the -haggard-eyed desert straggler. Every one of them hung on his words. -Every one of these people had been ruined by Ramsey's rapacious -greed. Their past accomplishments were destroyed; their futures were -non-existent. They lived in a terrorized state, from hand-to-mouth, -indifferent now to any more wrongdoing that could be visited upon them. -The fires of their hatred for Ramsey gave them the basic energy to go -on existing.</p> - -<p>Out of grinding desperation they had turned to Henley, had given him -a free hand, even when most, in their heart-of-hearts, knew he was a -scoundrel. The fact was that he was the only man among them not so -cowed as to be actively enraged against Ramsey. He promised that the -mines would be given back to the people. And, having nothing, they -believed everything.</p> - -<p>They came from everywhere in the colony, and from every trade and -profession. Who was this man? And was he friend or foe?</p> - -<p>The crowd grew slowly. Despite the shouts and the sudden stir of -excitement which had greeted the speaker on his arrival, there was -no headlong rush to surround him. The colonists emerged from their -lodgings and converged calmly upon the square, some having the look -of tradesfolk concerned with a possible interruption of business, and -others seemingly intent only on what the stranger might have to say.</p> - -<p>It was unusually warm for so early an hour, the temperature well up -in the mid-forties, and there was no need for the heat-generating -inner garments, only for oxygen masks and heavy outdoor clothing and -the careful avoidance of too much muscular exertion in the absence of -weighted shoes.</p> - -<p>This is madness, Corriston told himself. I am in no condition to -convince these people, to make them understand. I should have rested -first. Three hours' sleep would have helped. I should have asked for -food.</p> - -<p>Corriston felt suddenly tongue-tied. Words were failing him when he -needed them most. His speech became halting and confused. He had been -talking for twenty minutes—twenty minutes at least—but suddenly he -was quite sure that he hadn't succeeded in convincing anyone that he -was speaking only the simple truth.</p> - -<p>He looked at the faces before him a little more intently and saw what -he had not noticed before: everyone was waiting for him to go on; -everyone seemed to be hanging on his words.</p> - -<p>Had he misjudged them after all? Or had he misjudged his own capacity -to be persuasive, to talk with conviction when his very life hung in -the balance?</p> - -<p>There could be no doubt on that score. His life did hang in the -balance. They'd make short shift of him if they thought he was on -Ramsey's side.</p> - -<p>"It isn't Ramsey I'm concerned about," he heard himself saying. "I'm -pleading with you to face up to the truth about yourselves. You trusted -Henley because you were desperate. You couldn't put your trust in a -weak or indecisive man. You needed a tool with a cutting edge. That I -can understand. But you picked the wrong man. Henley doesn't want to -see justice done. He doesn't want to help you at all. He wants to help -himself at your expense, to help himself in a vicious, brutal way."</p> - -<p>"That's a lie," someone in the crowd said. "Henley's a good man."</p> - -<p>Corriston freed himself from his dust-caked coat. He shrugged it off -and let it drop to the sand. Then he straightened his oxygen mask and -went on: "It's not a lie. It's the simple truth."</p> - -<p>He wondered why he had shrugged off his warmest garment. It was cold, -he was shivering, and it had been a ridiculous thing to do. Had he -intended it as a challenge? In a crazy, confused, subconscious way, was -he offering to fight anyone who disagreed with him.</p> - -<p>He suddenly realized that he was a little drunk. Not on alcohol, but on -a slight excess of oxygen. He fingered the gauge on his mask, cutting -down the tank inflow, cursing himself for his delay in doing so.</p> - -<p>Had he convinced anyone? He looked at the faces about him and was -astonished by their impassivity. Few of the men or women before him -seemed either angry or disturbed. They just seemed to be quietly -listening.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he realized that he was completely in error. They were -convinced, persuaded, almost completely on his side. Their silence was -in itself revealing, just as the hush which precedes an avalanche can -be convincing, or the stillness which precedes a storm at sea.</p> - -<p>They were waiting for him to go on.</p> - -<p>He talked for thirty more minutes and then there was a long silence, -punctuated only by the harsh breathing of a few men who seemed to -disagree.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>17</h2> - - -<p>Corriston knew that the few who disagreed were prepared to make -trouble, but he was not prepared for the violence which ensued.</p> - -<p>Fights broke out in the crowd, singly and in groups. The colonists with -strong convictions took issue with the few who disagreed. And the few -who disagreed had strong convictions, too.</p> - -<p>Two men about the same in height were suddenly down on the ground -raining fisticuffs at each other.</p> - -<p>"Damn you, Reeves, I'll break your jaw. From the first minute I saw -Henley I knew he was a scoundrel."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, and who else but a scoundrel could hold his own with a rat like -Ramsey. We can call the turn on him if he goes too far."</p> - -<p>There was an explosion of cursing and Corriston could see five more men -fighting, moving backwards as they exchanged blows toward the periphery -of the crowd.</p> - -<p>There was nothing he could do to stop the fighting. He was close to -exhaustion, hardly able to stand. He desperately needed food and -rest—a long rest flat on his back.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he realized that he had victory within his grasp. Most things -worthwhile in life called for a decisive effort of will. He decided -suddenly that he couldn't just let the fighting go on. He had to take -a firm stand himself, had to convince everyone that he was prepared to -fight for his convictions.</p> - -<p>He moved forward into the crowd. He grabbed one doubter by the -shoulder, held fast to him for an instant, and then sent his fist -crashing into the astonished man's jaw.</p> - -<p>The doubter folded in complete silence. Corriston stepped back from -him and said in a voice loud enough to carry to the rim of the crowd: -"I don't care how many of you I have to take on. Every word I've said -is the truth. If you can only settle it by killing me, you may as well -start trying."</p> - -<p>There was a silence then. Even the sound of the breeze rustling the -garments of the colonists, stirring little flurries of sand along the -main street, seemed to become muted. Far off between the houses a clock -struck the time. It seemed very loud in the stillness.</p> - -<p>It amazed Corriston a little, even in his exhausted state, how -determinedly a challenge like that could be accepted at face value. -He was quite sure that he had won a victory; that nine-tenths of the -colonists were on his side. But everyone remained silent, everyone drew -back in tight-lipped silence while the issue was put to the test.</p> - -<p>A tall man with a lean, lantern-jawed face approached Corriston and -said: "I'm going to tell you exactly what I think. Henley isn't an easy -man to understand. He keeps his thoughts to himself and he may have -had his own special reasons for pulling the wool over your eyes. He's -looking out for our best interests; I'm sure of that. But what good -would it do me to knock you down to prove it?"</p> - -<p>"No good at all," Corriston said. "But try knocking me down if you want -to."</p> - -<p>"I'm not going to try," the lantern-jawed man said. "I think you're -lying. That's all I have to say."</p> - -<p>Corriston watched him disappear in the crowd and shook his head. He -felt like a man with a fly swatter in his hand. He had won a victory -and yet if he failed to swat a few flies no one would believe that he -was telling the truth.</p> - -<p>Finally he got his chance. A thickset, dark-browed man with a -trouble-seeking aspect came up and hurled insults at him in a markedly -offensive way.</p> - -<p>Corriston hit him three times. The first blow doubled him up, the -second dropped him to his knees; the third flattened him out on the -sand.</p> - -<p>Corriston stepped back and surveyed the crowd. Their response now was -overwhelmingly favorable.</p> - -<p>It wasn't a complete victory. There were still doubters, still -arguments going on, still a hatred for Ramsey that overflowed and made -a mockery of the few voices raised in his defense.</p> - -<p>And Corriston was glad that not too many voices were raised in Ramsey's -defense. He had not come to plead Ramsey's cause, and he wanted all of -the colonists to know that. He only asked that a truce be declared, an -end to the fierce, immediate hatreds, while a scoundrel was attacked by -men who had been lied to, cheated and betrayed. He moved still further -forward into the crowd, prepared to fight again if he had to, prepared -to back up his arguments with the simple, primitive and direct use of -his fists.</p> - -<p>He swayed suddenly and realized that he was at the end of his -endurance, and now would in all probability make a complete fool of -himself. He would commit the unforgivable folly of issuing a challenge -that he couldn't back up.</p> - -<p>He shook his head violently, trying to clear it, but his dizziness -increased. The landscape about him began to pinwheel and he saw the -streets of the colony through a wavering yellow mist. The store fronts -danced, the rusting and discarded machinery on a side street began to -move and come to life, to clatter and waltz about.</p> - -<p>A woman moving toward him seemed to grow in height, her oxygen mask -widening out, overspreading her face. For a moment she seemed like an -impossible ballet figure in a <i>danse macabre</i>, pivoting about on her -toes as a caterpillar tractor came rushing toward her through the thin -air of Mars.</p> - -<p>Then two colonists were supporting him, holding him tightly by the -elbows, refusing to let him collapse. It was outrageous, because he -<i>wanted</i> to collapse. He wanted to sink down, to let sleep wash over -him, to forget all of his troubles in merciful oblivion.</p> - -<p>But the two colonists were very stubborn. They refused to let him -collapse. He only wanted to go to sleep, to forget all of his troubles, -but the two colonists were like doctors in a hospital, very stern, very -patient, and seemingly determined to keep him on his feet.</p> - -<p>Somehow they must have failed. They must have failed because when -he became fully conscious again he was lying between cool white -sheets, and a woman in a white nurse's uniform was bending over him. -By straining his eyes he could see two men who looked like doctors -standing just beyond her.</p> - -<p>The two men appeared to be discussing him, but when he struggled to -a sitting position and stared hard at them they came toward him with -reassuring smiles, and one of them said: "Take it easy, now. You're -going to be all right."</p> - -<p>"I ... I must have passed out," he stammered. "I was ready to pass out -before I started talking. Is this a hospital? I guess it is. I should -have come here immediately. Forty hours in the desert and I arrive -half-delirious and make a fool of myself."</p> - -<p>"Take it easy," one of the doctors said. "You didn't make a fool of -yourself. Quite the contrary."</p> - -<p>Oh, brother, he thought. They're lying to me to spare me, or something. -"I have a vague recollection of not being able to stand, of talking my -head off and then collapsing and making a complete fool of myself, of -accomplishing nothing at all. I swung hard at two or three people. I -knocked one man down, flat on his back. But that was a crazy thing to -do. It's no way to win the confidence or respect of anyone."</p> - -<p>"Look," one of the doctors said, taking firm hold of his shoulder -and shaking him gently. "Don't go reproaching yourself. You've got -nine-tenths of the colony behind you."</p> - -<p>"You mean—"</p> - -<p>"Sure, you convinced almost everyone. And that was a miracle in itself, -considering how close to collapse you were. You were running a high -fever. You were dehydrated. Your skin was as dry as a parched lichen. -Yet you stood there and convinced them. That's the gospel truth."</p> - -<p>"They've chosen you as their leader," the second doctor said. "They're -going after Henley before it's too late. They feel exactly as you -do about Ramsey's daughter. Not about Ramsey perhaps—but about the -kidnapping of a helpless girl. None of them have any liking for Henley -now."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>18</h2> - - -<p>Corriston walked out into the central square and stood there. For a -moment no one said a word. One of the doctors was there with him. He'd -had a sandwich and coffee before leaving the hospital and his nerves -felt steady and his voice was pitched low.</p> - -<p>"I don't know a single one of these men, Dr. Tomlinson," he said. "I -spent a week in the colony four years ago, but I just don't see anyone -I recognize. I'm afraid you'll have to introduce me around."</p> - -<p>It took a full hour to really get acquainted, to plan what had to -be done, to check over the tractors, the ammunition supplies, the -equipment of each and every man.</p> - -<p>They had to cross eighty-seven miles of desert to a heavily guarded -cave and then move on perhaps to Ramsey's fortress. They had to be -prepared for any eventuality.</p> - -<p>The morale was good. Corriston could sense the grim determination in -every man, the faith in their mission, the anger. It cheered him.</p> - -<p>He walked around between the tractors, listening to stray bits of talk, -getting better acquainted with everyone as the minutes sped by.</p> - -<p>He took out his watch and looked at it and decided that time was -running short.</p> - -<p>Give each and every man twenty minutes, he thought. Then we get -rolling. Thirty caterpillar tractors and two hundred and ten men. And -in the ship are two men holed up—possibly three now—with all the -portable fighting equipment of a two thousand ton spaceship at their -disposal. And if Henley has returned—</p> - -<p>Suddenly Corriston found himself sweating in the silence, despite the -cold, despite the hoar frost that was beginning to collect on the rim -of his oxygen mask. There was a split second of shouting from one of -the tractors and then it started up, with a coughing and spitting that -drowned out the human voices.</p> - -<p>All along the wide, rust-red street other tractors came to life. In the -thin air of Mars, in the pale sky, a single blue cloud hung suspended.</p> - -<p>It was wispy thin, incredibly thin, a hollow mockery of a cloud. But -the scene below would have been less remarkable had the sky remained -cloudless, for then Mars would have seemed completely unlike Earth and -the human drama less compelling.</p> - -<p>There was something tremendous in the forward march of the tractors, -in the clatter and the rising dust, the shouts of the men at the -controls and the women who ran swift-footed along the sand to urge them -to greater fortitude. The women knew that endurance would be needed, -for twenty-first century weapons of warfare could destroy a hundred -tractors and spatter the desert with blood before retaliation could -become complete and justice be fully satisfied.</p> - -<p>So the women did not weep or lament. They ran parallel with the -tractors, urging their men onward, stifling their own inner fears in -the greatness of the moment.</p> - -<p>Corriston waited for the last tractor to come abreast of him before -he leapt aboard it. There was the smell of acrid grease in the air, -a smell of burning. The mechanical parts set up a dull rumbling, and -as Corriston swung himself aboard, a voice said: "I'm Stanley Gregor. -If I had any sense I wouldn't take part in this. I came to Mars with -the second expedition. I'm sixty-two years old but somehow today I -feel young. There's no longer any doubt in my mind that Henley is a -scoundrel. Why we trusted him I don't know. I'm here to do my part in -rectifying an error."</p> - -<p>"Sure," Corriston said, settling down at the side of a big, -awkward-looking man with red hair. "Sure, I understand. Take it easy. -We're all in this together."</p> - -<p>"We've got eighty-seven miles of desert to cross. It's going to be -tough. Have you seen the fortress Ramsey built to protect himself?"</p> - -<p>"No," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"There are twenty-five square miles of fortified -defenses—photoelectric eye installations. They spot you when you're -a half-mile away. Try to storm those installations even with a dozen -armed tractors, and you'll be pulverized into dust. Try to storm them -on foot with the most formidable of energy weapons, and you'll be -electrocuted. You'll hang suspended on barbed wire. Think that over, -Lieutenant."</p> - -<p>"I've thought it over," Corriston said. "We won't have to storm the -fortress unless they've taken Ramsey's daughter there, or if Ramsey -himself is in danger. And if he is in danger, he'll welcome our help. -We're going to the ship first and there are only two men on the ship."</p> - -<p>"But they've got plenty of ammunition, haven't they? They've got the -ship's military installations. Anyway you slice it, it's a dangerous -gamble."</p> - -<p>"I never thought it was anything else," Corriston said.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>19</h2> - - -<p>Corriston woke up to the hum of human voices, the soft whisper of the -wind, the gentle stirring of sand. He awoke to coldness and brightness, -to sunlight that dazzled him with its brightness.</p> - -<p>Corriston remembered then. Not everything at once, but just the first -thing. There were no guideposts. That was always the first thing to -remember when you woke up from a brief, twenty-minute sleep on Mars.</p> - -<p>In islands scoured by trade winds and bright with blown sea spray a man -does not talk of traveling east or west, and even familiar streets are -no longer given names or marked by intersections. A man talks instead -of walking into the wind, of setting his course by the north star, -of moving straight into the teeth of the gale or huddling for shelter -beneath a high chalk cliff where all directions converge in a hollow -drumming that has neither beginning nor end. It was that way on Mars. -It would always be that way, it could never change.</p> - -<p>Just lie very still and listen, listen to the voices of men who are -risking their lives to help you. Listen and be grateful; listen and be -proud.</p> - -<p>All at once Corriston realized that an amazing discussion was going on. -They were discussing an eleven-year-old boy who had done an absolutely -crazy thing. He had followed his father into the desert by concealing -himself in one of the tractors, behind a liquid-fuel cylinder, and was -now a member of the 210 man rescue team.</p> - -<p>"Mars is no place for a kid. Dr. Drever ought to be ashamed of himself. -If a man has children—well, Mars is simply no place for children."</p> - -<p>"That's right. A boy of eleven needs companions his own age to help -him over the growingpain hurdles. He needs a backyard to play in. When -I was a kid I had a bike of my own, a bull terrier pup, a collection -of butterflies, a stamp collection and a simply amazing talent for -roughing up my clothes.</p> - -<p>"Mars is the worst of all possible worlds for a kid like Freddy. -We're buoyed up by the bigness and the newness and the strangeness -of everything. The mile-high granite cliffs don't really belong to a -planet smaller than Earth. But they're here and we accept them. We pit -our technical brilliance—or lack of it—against the rugged grandeur of -the mountains and the plains and we can take even the sandstorms in our -stride. But to bring a kid here—"</p> - -<p>"Drever is a widower. He quite naturally didn't want to put his son -in an orphanage. Besides, there are thirteen other young kids in the -Colony."</p> - -<p>"That doesn't excuse it. There are plenty of childless single men."</p> - -<p>"How many of them could step into Drever's shoes and grow to his -stature as the first really great medical specialist on Mars? You're -forgetting the hell he had to go through just to pass the preliminary -screening. It's rugged for a man of his attainments. They not only -insist that he be good; they want him to be the best."</p> - -<p>"That's true enough, I suppose. And now that he's here he probably -couldn't be replaced. Experience of a very special sort does things for -a man. And <i>to</i> a man, if you like."</p> - -<p>"I'm simply stressing that Mars is simply not a place for a kid of -Freddy's age. When he goes roaming he gets his lungs choked with dust. -He couldn't ride a bike on Mars—if he had a bike. Worst of all, he has -no kids of his own age to play with. And now he comes on a trip like -this. Does he hope to rescue the Ramsey girl all by himself?"</p> - -<p>Corriston got up then. The three men who had been discussing Dr. -Drever's son stood by the smoldering embers of a burnt out campfire. -They were kindly looking men but a certain narrow-mindedness was -stamped on the faces of at least two of them.</p> - -<p>Corriston shrugged off his weariness and walked up to them. "Nonsense!" -he said.</p> - -<p>A startled look came into the eyes of the oldest, a grizzled scarecrow -of a man whose beard descended almost to his waist. He was a Martian -geologist, and a good one.</p> - -<p>"Eh, Lieutenant. I was just going to ask you. Shouldn't we get started?"</p> - -<p>"We should and we will," Corriston said. "But a good many men collapsed -from the cold this morning. If we don't arrive at that ship in force, -we may live to regret it. Where's Freddy? Have you seen him?"</p> - -<p>The grizzled man raised his arm and pointed: "Over there," he said. -"His coming along was just about the craziest thing I ever heard of."</p> - -<p>Corriston walked across the churned up sand to where Freddy sat -perched like a disconsolate gnome on a metal-rimmed food container -shaped like an old-fashioned water barrel.</p> - -<p>Dr. Drever's son was almost twelve, but he was small for his age and -Corriston had seen boys of nine who were much huskier looking.</p> - -<p>Corriston had no way of knowing that on Earth, shoulder to shoulder -with other schoolboys, Freddy had never thought of himself as -particularly small. It was only on Mars, all alone with his father and -other grownups, that he had felt even smaller than he actually was. He -had felt like a dwarf child.</p> - -<p>"Why did you do it, Freddy?" Corriston asked. "Your father is very -upset and worried."</p> - -<p>Freddy looked up quickly and just as quickly lowered his eyes again.</p> - -<p>"I had to come," he said. "I had to."</p> - -<p>"But why?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"I see."</p> - -<p>Corriston stared at him for a long moment in silence. Then he said: "I -think perhaps I understand, Freddy. Just suppose we say you succumbed -to an impulse to roam. The exploring urge can be overwhelming in a -boy of your age. It usually is. If you were on Earth right now you'd -be dreaming about exploring the headwaters of the Amazon. You'd be -dreaming about birds with bright, tropical plumage and butterflies as -big as dinner plates."</p> - -<p>Freddy looked up again, not quite so quickly this time. There was -wonder and admiration in his stare. "How did you know?" he gasped.</p> - -<p>"I guess I was pretty much like you, Freddy—once," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"Gee, thanks," Freddy said.</p> - -<p>"Thanks for what?"</p> - -<p>"Thanks for understanding me, Lieutenant Corriston."</p> - -<p>Corriston walked out between the tractors and raised his voice so that -everyone within earshot could hear him.</p> - -<p>"We're starting again in ten minutes," he said. "Better have another -cup of coffee all around."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>20</h2> - - -<p>The sand had been blowing for forty minutes. It was a flying avalanche, -a flailing mace. Even inside the tractors it set up an almost -intolerable roaring in the eardrums, and when it struck the wind-guards -head on the battered vehicles shook. For five or six seconds they would -rumble on and then come to a jolting halt. Often they would start up -again almost immediately but equally often they would remain stalled -for several minutes, and at times there were more stalled tractors than -moving ones across the entire line of advance.</p> - -<p>The pelting never ceased, never let up even for a moment. Minute after -minute the sand came sweeping down in red fury, tons upon tons of -it, in great circular waves from high overhead and in jet velocity -flurries close to the ground. In that assault of billions upon billions -of spinning particles the brightly colored lichens which covered the -Martian plains were uprooted, lifted high in the air, and carried for -dozens of miles, flying carpets so small they scarcely could have -supported the tiniest of elves.</p> - -<p>For three hours the sandstorm continued to rage in fury, and then, -abruptly, the wind died down, the last flurry subsided, and the -colonists got under way again. And just for a change a few of them -descended from the tractors and advanced on foot, keeping a little -ahead of the swaying vehicles.</p> - -<p>Dr. Drever, a tall, stooped man with graying temples but surprisingly -youthful eyes accelerated his stride a little and fell in with the -scarecrow geologist who was walking at Corriston's side.</p> - -<p>"We can't be far from the ship now," he said. "I wish there was some -way I could send Freddy back. If I thought you could spare a tractor -and one man to accompany him...."</p> - -<p>"Freddy will be all right," Corriston said. "You don't know what it -means to a kid like Freddy to ride through a sandstorm in the company -of grownups. He had to prove something to himself, and I think he's -done it."</p> - -<p>The stillness was almost unnatural now, and Corriston could see that -most of the men were becoming uneasy about it. The desert seemed too -bright and far too quiet. It was one of those mysterious, brooding -silences that are a menace to start with. You think of unsuspected -pitfalls, hidden traps. Imagination leaps ahead of reality and leaves -an insidious kind of demoralization in its wake.</p> - -<p>"I'm not surprised that all the animal life on Mars went underground," -the scarecrow geologist said, and it seemed a strange thing for him to -have mentioned at that moment, when the stillness was so absolute and -the thoughts of everyone should have been on the ship, which had to be -very near now.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and what a vicious, horrible kind of animal life it is," Drever -said, as if he too welcomed the opportunity to talk irrelevantly, -perhaps to relieve his inner tension.</p> - -<p>"They're a very primitive form of life, really," the geologist said. -"They look like large gray snakes, but they're actually more like -worms. Worms with sucker disks instead of mouths. When once they've' -attached themselves it's almost impossible to dislodge them. You've -seen marine worms on Earth often enough, I'm sure. They come in all -shapes, sizes and colors, but there are one or two species that look -quite a bit like lamprenes in miniature. Lamprenes are usually about -three feet in length. But some of the very old ones grow to eight feet -or longer. Their natural prey is a small running lizard—the galaka—as -you know."</p> - -<p>"All right," Corriston said, a little of his raw-nerve exasperation -returning. "Now I suppose you're going to tell us exactly how they kill -their prey."</p> - -<p>"I don't have to tell you how they kill men," Macklin said. "You know -as much about that as I do. You've been on Mars before. You've seen at -least a few of the victims. You know exactly how they come up under a -man when he's asleep, puncture his clothes and attach themselves. He -doesn't just get nipped; the lamprene can seldom be pulled off that -quickly. And when two or three of them attack you, it can be pretty -horrible. They're more than just vampires; they sting. The poison is as -deadly as aconite. It works a little slower, but almost immediately the -victim starts to degenerate, his nerves first, and, then...."</p> - -<p>"All right, now I've heard an expert confirm it. I'd be grateful if -you'll just shut up."</p> - -<p>"Lieutenant, I told you—"</p> - -<p>"Never mind, Doctor. I'm asking him to shut up."</p> - -<p>In silence they continued on, the tension between them increasing -almost intolerably, their nerves becoming more and more frayed. And -then, finally, it seemed to them that they could see the ship, and the -great cliff wall surrounding it through the slight haziness left by the -sandstorm and the vaguer haziness which distance imposes, could see the -tumbled, flat slabs of rock that radiated out from it in all directions -across the desert.</p> - -<p>But it was hard to be sure it was really the ship. It was perhaps only -one of the many desert mirages which were far more common on Mars than -they were on Earth. A man who has once looked at the bright, scarred -face of a cliff wall in the Martian sunlight will remember it even in -his dreams and no mirages are really necessary. He is certain to see it -a second and a third time, like an after-image so indelibly imprinted -on the retina of the human eye that its recurrence becomes inevitable.</p> - -<p>And yet, the running man could not have been a mirage. He was much -nearer than the ship appeared to be, and he was falling and getting -up and falling again in so frenzied a way that his movements bore the -unmistakable stamp of reality.</p> - -<p>Corriston came to an abrupt halt. For an instant he simply stared, -watching the distant figure fall to the sand for the fourth time and -drag himself forward over the sand, his shoulders heaving convulsively.</p> - -<p>For an instant Corriston could not have moved if he had wanted to. -The scarecrow and Drever were standing too close to him, so that the -shoulders of the three men formed a compact unit, and their arms were -in each other's way to such an extent that no real freedom of movement -was possible.</p> - -<p>Corriston had almost to disentangle himself by sheer physical effort. -Disentangle himself he finally did, turning completely about and -shouting to the colonists behind him.</p> - -<p>"Get to that man as quickly as possible!" he ordered. "There's no time -to be lost. Try to tear the lamprenes off him, but watch out for your -hands. Don't let them coil around you, watch out for the disks. Get -them off if you can. If you can't, bring him here. Carry him slung -between you."</p> - -<p>Two men left the line of march and started off across the desert, -walking very rapidly but not breaking into a run. Corriston had -forgotten to warn them that running with their weighted shoes would be -difficult, and would only delay them, and he was glad that they had -thought of it themselves.</p> - -<p>He turned back to the scarecrow, who was staring in white-lipped horror -at what must have seemed to him an unbelievable occurrence—a man -attacked by lamprenes when he had been talking about lamprenes only an -instant before.</p> - -<p>But Corriston knew that it was a common enough occurrence, not to be in -any way coincidental. No one who slept in the desert for any length of -time could hope to avoid an attack if he failed to take the necessary -precautions. And even with precautions the death toll was high; almost -as high, perhaps, as cobra fatalities in India.</p> - -<p>Corriston turned abruptly, his lips white. "If a man is attacked by -just one lamprene, and it's pulled off quickly, how much chance has he?"</p> - -<p>It was Drever who answered him. "Not much, I'm afraid. The poison gets -into the blood stream and acts quickly. You can't get it out with a -suction disk the way you sometimes can with a snake bite. It's a nerve -poison and it spreads very fast. And there's no way of neutralizing it, -no serum injection that does any good. Of course, there have been a few -recoveries."</p> - -<p>Corriston swung about and stared out across the desert again. The two -colonists had reached the stricken man now and were attempting to tear -the lamprene—or lamprenes—from his flesh. They were bending over him, -and it was hard to tell for a moment whether they were succeeding or -not. Then, abruptly, one of them rose and made a despairing gesture, -unmistakable even from a distance of five hundred feet.</p> - -<p>The next few minutes were like a nightmare that has no clear beginning -or end. They brought the man back and laid him down on the sand. The -man was Stone.</p> - -<p>It was Drever who got the lamprene off. He did it with an electric -torch, taking care to manipulate the jet of fire in such a way that it -scorched only the head of the creature and not Stone's exposed flesh.</p> - -<p>Corriston bent then, and gripped Stone firmly by the shoulders and -shook him until a look of desperate pleading came into his eyes. He -forced himself not to feel pity, seeing in Stone's closeness to death a -threat that could have but one outcome if the man refused to speak at -all.</p> - -<p>"Where's Helen Ramsey?" he demanded. "Where is she, Stone? We're not -likely to do anything more for you if you don't tell us."</p> - -<p>"I—I don't know," Stone muttered. "Saddler ... double-crossed Henley. -I guess ... he wanted her for himself. I don't know where he's taken -her. I'm telling you the truth. You've got to believe me."</p> - -<p>"All right," Corriston said, easing Stone back on the sand. "I believe -you. Take it easy now. They've got the lamprene off."</p> - -<p>He stood very still, waiting for his heart to beat normally again, -telling himself that Saddler had taken an almost suicidal risk in -leaving the ship on foot with no certain refuge in mind. By taking -along a helpless girl, he was making himself a target for the rage and -relentless enmity of men who would never rest until they had tracked -him down.</p> - -<p>There could be no sanctuary for him anywhere. If he escaped Henley's -vengeance, the colonists would capture him in a matter of days. But -Corriston wasn't thinking in terms of days. He was thinking in terms of -minutes, hours. He stared at the empty stretch of desert ahead, trying -desperately to control the despair that was welling up inside him. How -long a head start did Saddler have? Had he left the ship only a few -minutes, or hours before?</p> - -<p>He'd have to ask Stone one more question. Like a fool he'd put off -asking it, dreading the thought of what Stone's answer might be. But -now he had no choice. He must ask, and risk knowing that pursuit could -not be immediately undertaken by one man, that Saddler was miles away -across the desert, hiding out in some remote and inaccessible cave and -that tracking him down and putting a bullet through his heart would -have to be a joint undertaking.</p> - -<p>It was a cruelly frustrating possibility. It increased Corriston's -rage, his bitterness. The hate within him seemed suddenly violent -enough to destroy anyone or anything. He preferred to go on alone, in -relentless pursuit of Saddler and if it took days to track him down....</p> - -<p>It was Freddy's voice that brought him back to reality, startling -and sobering him. Freddy was coming toward him between the tractors, -shouting at the top of his lungs.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>21</h2> - - -<p>Corriston couldn't quite catch what the lad was shouting at first. -Something about the dunes and the ship and footprints. Then he caught -the name of Helen Ramsey and his mouth went dry and for an instant he -couldn't seem to breathe. Freddy was shouting that he had found Helen -Ramsey.</p> - -<p>Dr. Drever started and leapt quickly to his feet, his eyes darting with -an understandable solicitude toward the small figure coming toward them -across the sand. He moved quickly to place himself directly in front -of Stone, as if fearing it would be bad for Freddy to see a man so -close to death. Then the full significance of Freddy's words seemed to -dawn on him, and his solicitude for his son was replaced by a larger -concern, a wider sympathy.</p> - -<p>"You talk to him, Corriston," he said. "You've been living through a -short stretch of hell. If he's really found her—"</p> - -<p>Corriston needed no urging. He swayed a little forward, steadied -himself and broke into a run, meeting Freddy almost midway between the -nearest tractor and the hollow where Drever was crouching.</p> - -<p>Freddy's eyes seemed almost too large for so young a face, large and -immensely serious. But along with the seriousness Corriston could sense -something else, a taper glow of excitement burning bright.</p> - -<p>Freddy had gone exploring. As he told Corriston about it, the words -seemed to flow from him as if they had a mysterious life of their own, -and were somehow reshaping Freddy, making him over into a grown man -with a heavy stubble of beard and eyes that had looked on far places -and a thousand brilliant suns.</p> - -<p>Freddy had found Helen Ramsey by following her footprints in the sand. -Corriston let Freddy tell it in his own words, shaken by doubts for a -moment, but finally convinced that the lad couldn't possibly be making -any of it up.</p> - -<p>"There wasn't a footprint anywhere near the ship, Lieutenant Corriston. -The sandstorm covered them over. I looked everywhere just to be sure. -I mean there wasn't any prints that could have been made by a woman -leaving the ship with a man. The sand was trampled in a few places, -because about ten minutes ago Mr. Macklin and two other men started -looking too. But that was all.</p> - -<p>"I remembered then that the sand sometimes stays nearly smooth close to -very high dunes, even in a storm. There's a—a windbreaking buffer zone -where the dunes keep the sand from piling up. I asked Mr. Macklin about -that once and he told me. I got to thinking that if I just wandered off -I could be back again before anyone missed me."</p> - -<p>Freddy turned and gestured toward the ship. "You can see the dunes -from here. Not the ones right behind the ship. Those two bigger ones -over there ... that sort of look like the humps on a camel. I guess -nobody would have been crazy enough to go looking for prints that far -away from the ship. But if I hadn't done it I wouldn't have found her. -That's for sure."</p> - -<p>Corriston said: "You're so much the opposite of crazy, Freddy, that I'm -afraid you're trying to spare me. It's hard to hurt someone you like, -but I've got to have the truth."</p> - -<p>His hand tightened on Freddy's shoulder. "Do you understand, Freddy? I -must know. Don't lie to spare me. Is she all right?"</p> - -<p>Freddy looked up at him, troubled, uncertain. "I think she is. She's -lying down near the bottom of the dune, right where it slopes up again -toward another dune. It's like one, big, hollow dune. I didn't see her -move. I guess she must have fainted. He's there, too, lying face down -in the sand halfway up the dune, like he was hurt...."</p> - -<p>"All right," Corriston said. "Now you'd better stay here with your -father."</p> - -<p>"Can't I go back with you? I was afraid to climb down to her alone. I -was afraid he'd catch me and kill me, and then no one would ever know -I'd found her. He'd be warned and try to get away—"</p> - -<p>"It was the right thing to do, the level-headed thing," Corriston said. -"You couldn't have used better judgment."</p> - -<p>"Then it's all right if I go back with you?"</p> - -<p>Corriston shook his head. "No, Freddy. I'd rather you didn't. Don't you -understand? You've done <i>more</i> than your share. Now it's my turn."</p> - -<p>Freddy tightened his lips and stared for a moment at the glitter of -sunlight on the caterpillar tread of the nearest tractor. Finally he -said, "All right, Lieutenant Corriston. If it's an order."</p> - -<p>"It's an order, Freddy."</p> - -<p>Corriston gave Freddy's shoulder a pat. Then, after the briefest -pause, he said: "There's no substitute for the kind of fast-thinking -resourcefulness you've just displayed, Freddy. In a dozen years you'll -be heading an expedition and it won't be the kind that gets bogged down -after the first thousand miles. You can take my word for that."</p> - -<p>He turned then and walked toward the ship. In a moment he had passed -the ship and was moving out into the desert beyond, and Freddy wondered -how a man could remain so calm in an affair of life and death such as -this. It was just as well, perhaps, that he could not see Corriston's -face as he moved still further away from the ship into a loneliness of -desert and sky.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She was lying in a wind-scoured hollow beneath a seventy-foot dune, her -head resting on one sharply-bent elbow, a look of utter exhaustion on -her face. Her eyes were closed, and even from where he stood Corriston -could see that she was breathing heavily. He could see the slight rise -and fall of her bosom, the trembling vibration of her oxygen mask. She -was completely alone.</p> - -<p>He stood for an instant absolutely motionless on the summit of the -dune, staring down at her, noticing in alarm the hollow contour of her -cheeks on both sides of the oxygen mask, and the slight tinge of gray -that had crept into her countenance. Then he started downward. Almost -instantly the sand rose like an unsteady sea on all sides of him, and a -warning signal sounded in his brain.</p> - -<p>He could connect it with no cause. Beneath him stretched only the -wind-scoured inner surface of the dune, dazzling his eyes with its -brightness, mirroring the sunlight like a burning glass. For a moment -the brightness deceived him, and he did not realize that there were -shadowed hollows directly beneath him, dark fissures in the tumbled -sand wide enough to conceal a crouching man. He did not even see the -shadow creeping toward him over the sand. Only the dazzle for an -instant and the gleam of sunlight on Helen Ramsey's tousled hair.</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, he was aware of the danger, fully awake and aware. But -realization came too late. Abruptly, without warning, a knife blade -flashed in the sunlight and he felt an agonizing stab of pain just -below his left kneecap.</p> - -<p>A dark shape rose before him, and then dissolved into the shadows -again, darting downward and sideways as it disappeared. Corriston threw -himself backwards and froze into immobility, thrusting his elbows deep -into the sand behind him, using that moment of surprise forced upon him -by his assailant to lower his eyes and seek him out.</p> - -<p>He saw Saddler's face clearly for an instant, saw the gleaming knife -and the hand holding it, and the wavering outline of the man's -crouching body three-fourths in shadow. He heard Saddler mutter: "I'm -done for, Corriston. But I'll get you first."</p> - -<p>It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Corriston's hand went to -his hip, but with a nightmare feeling of retardation and his fingers -seemed to move without any assistance from the motor centers of his -brain. Then even more slowly he was facing the hollow with the gun in -his clasp, and the weapon was exploding into the shadows, filling the -hollows and windy places with reverberating echoes of sound.</p> - -<p>There was complete silence after that. No groans, no outcry—nothing -but silence. It went on for so long that Corriston could not shake off -a numbing sense of unreality. Surely only a dream could have had so -violently unreal a beginning, so terrible an outcome. Then he looked -down, and saw the blood on his leg where the knife had grazed it, and -knew that it could not have been a dream.</p> - -<p>He was still facing the hollow, with two bullets left in his gun. But -he knew that he would not have to fire again. Saddler was lying on his -back on the sand, his eyes wide open, his jaw hanging slack. There was -a spreading red stain on his chest and a rim of blood around his lips. -The wind which was blowing across the crest of the dune seemed suddenly -to turn malevolent, striking out at the dead man with a sudden, -downsweeping gust, ruffling his hair and making him seem to be still -enveloped in violence.</p> - -<p>Corriston felt his throat muscles contract. He forced himself to bend -over and search for a heart beat he knew he wouldn't find, remembering -the other times when the outcome had been less fatal, when only a man's -face had changed.</p> - -<p>As his palm rested for an instant above the dead man's heart, the -stirring of the sand immediately beneath him seemed to increase, to -become a loud and continuous rustling sound that filled him with a -vague sense of disquiet. He could not quite dismiss from his mind a -feeling that he was still in danger, that in some strange, almost -terrifying way Saddler was still a menace, and that the terrible -reality of his death had not destroyed all of the hatred and savage -violence which had forced Corriston to kill him in self-defense.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Corriston realized that what he heard was not the wind -stirring the sand at all, but something quite different. It was closer -to him than the sloping rim of the dunes, and it was accompanied by -movements directly under his hand, a sudden tightening of the dead -man's skin, a contraction more pronounced than could have been produced -by the abrupt onset of rigor mortis, however freakishly violent or -premature.</p> - -<p>The rustling continued for perhaps ten more seconds. Then, abruptly, it -stopped and the heads of two lamprenes came into view, moving slowly -across Saddler's unstirring flesh until their writhing mouth parts were -less than two inches from Corriston's outspread hand.</p> - -<p>The sight of them brought an instant of terror, an awareness of peril -so acute that Corriston's breath caught in his throat. His hand whipped -back and he leapt to his feet with a convulsive shudder.</p> - -<p>It was suddenly very still on the dune again. Corriston stood for a -moment with his body rigid, fearing to look downward, his mind filled -with a growing sense of panic.</p> - -<p>Had Helen Ramsey been attacked by lamprenes too? No, no, she was all -right; she had to be. Everything confirmed it, her quietness, her -steady breathing, the simple fact that her eyes had been closed and not -opened wide in torment.</p> - -<p>He descended the dune like a man ploughing in frantic haste through a -snowdrift, sinking to his knees and floundering free again, lurching -backward and sideways, sliding a third of the way.</p> - -<p>She was all right when he got to her. He dropped down beside her and -lifted her into his arms, and for an instant there was complete silence -between them. She just looked at him, looked up into his face steadily -and calmly, as if she could read his mind and had the good sense to -realize there could be no more certain way of reassuring him. Then -her arms tightened about him. "Darling," she whispered. "Darling, -darling...."</p> - -<p>Corriston started fumbling with his oxygen mask and suddenly he had it -off. He held his breath and more slowly helped her free her lips so -that he could kiss her. Their lips met and the kiss was longer and more -intense than any they had ever before shared.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A half hour later the tractors were in rumbling motion again, their -destination Ramsey's Citadel. And Corriston had a plan. He knew that it -was riddled with risks and that he was perhaps quite mad to think that -it might succeed. But the fact that Helen Ramsey was now completely -safe and had dropped off into a brief, outwardly untroubled sleep -at his side made him feel reckless to the point where a cautious, -level-headed man like Drever could only stare at him and shake his head.</p> - -<p>There was a swaying and a creaking all about them, the slow, steady -rumble of caterpillar treads, and Drever had almost to shout to make -himself heard. He stood directly opposite Corriston, supporting himself -by a guard rail, and watching the desert through the weather-shield -change color in the wake of the heavy vehicle's heaving, churning, -torpedo-shaped rear-end.</p> - -<p>"Stone's been unconscious now for an hour," Drever said, dividing his -gaze between Corriston, and the loosely strapped-in, sleeping girl at -his side, both swaying with the swaying tractor. "We can't count on -getting any more information out of him. I can't wake him up. Drugs -would be dangerous. I don't think he'll live, but we can't deliberately -kill him to get him to talk."</p> - -<p>"I know that," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"But he's the only one who knows why Henley is staying so long at -the Citadel. He should have been back hours ago. He left before you -escaped from the ship. For all we know, he may be dead. Ramsey may have -lost his head and had him shot, although that seems unlikely. Ramsey -would go to any length to save his daughter. But we've no way of -knowing whether he believed Henley's story or not. Anything could have -happened. Henley may have attacked Ramsey."</p> - -<p>"I've a feeling that he's still at the Citadel," Corriston said. "I'll -have to gamble on that—the one-in-five chance that for some reason the -negotiations have been prolonged. He may be lying dead in the desert -somewhere. He may have been attacked by lamprenes. As you say, anything -could have happened. But when I make up my mind to do something I -usually go through with it. It's just a matter of plain common sense. -You don't toss aside a decision you've given a great deal of thought to -just because the arguments against it are weighty, too."</p> - -<p>"I see. So you're still determined to walk right up to the gate and -tell them you're Stone."</p> - -<p>"Why not? They've never laid eyes on Stone and they don't know me from -Adam. I won't be wearing this uniform. I'll tell them that Henley's -expecting me, that he left orders for me to join him if he failed to -come back at a specified time. I'll watch the guard's face and change -my story a little—if I have to—as I go along."</p> - -<p>"It's a <i>very</i> long gamble. I hope you realize that."</p> - -<p>"It's either that or no gamble at all. And we've <i>got</i> to gamble. We're -holding at least two high cards and a joker. Henley has had the ground -shot right out from under him. He's completely alone, and the only -thing he has left to gamble with is his nearness to Ramsey, his ability -to terrify Ramsey by making him believe that his daughter's life is -still in danger. Ramsey has to be told that Helen has been freed, has -to be warned in time, before he does anything foolish.</p> - -<p>"Don't you see? With that threat hanging over him, Ramsey would never -let us get within fifty yards of the Citadel, let alone walk through -the gates. And if Henley finds out that we've got Helen, he'll know -that he has nothing left to gamble with except that desperate bluff. -And he may doubt his ability to win with a bluff. That would be the -worst tragedy of all. He may turn on Ramsey in blind rage, and kill -him. He gets a horrible, pathological pleasure out of killing. I've -told you how he went berserk on the Station."</p> - -<p>Drever nodded, and, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, the look of -stubborn opposition was gone from his eyes.</p> - -<p>"I guess you're right, Lieutenant. You can't always tell how the cards -will fall."</p> - -<p>"You can never tell," Corriston said. "And there are some games where -the important moves can only be made by just one player, and he usually -has to be something of a reckless fool."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>22</h2> - - -<p>Corriston left the tractor a hundred and seventy yards from the gate, -well hidden behind a hundred foot dune. The other tractors had come to -a halt a much greater distance from the Citadel, and were spread out -across the desert in a slightly uneven, double line.</p> - -<p>He walked slowly forward across the rust-red sand, with a feeling in -his bones that he was going to be lucky. Yet he knew that he'd have to -be convincing, or he wouldn't stand a chance. If there was more than -one guard at the gate he might never get inside. With luck he might be -able to convince two guards—even three—but never four or five, for -you couldn't forge words into persuasive enough weapons to disarm the -suspicion of that many observant men. Not the kind of men who would be -guarding Ramsey, at any rate.</p> - -<p>The massiveness of the fortified gate shook his confidence a little -as he drew near to it. It was at least fifty feet in height, a solid -oblong of inches-thick steel with a desert-mirroring surface. He could -see his own reflection as he advanced, but it did nothing to reassure -him.</p> - -<p>He knew what he'd have to do, of course. Walk right up to the gate and -trust to luck that he could find some way of announcing his presence -without getting himself killed. How <i>did</i> you gain entrance to an -impregnable fortress? Surely there had to be some way by which a man -could gain admittance without being instantly shot down as a hostile -intruder.</p> - -<p>He was surprised by the simplicity of the answer. There was no need for -him to press a bell or a buzzer, to manipulate a mechanism of any sort. -There was not even any need for him to proclaim his arrival by shouting.</p> - -<p>The gate swung inward without a sound, and in the shadows cast by -its moving bulk two figures silently materialized. They were guards, -heavily armed, one tall with shaggy brows and piercing dark eyes, the -other a wiry little man with reddish hair, his expression peculiarly -bland and non-committal.</p> - -<p>It was the little man who said: "All right, come inside. We've been -expecting you."</p> - -<p>It was impossible, but true. There was nothing threatening in the way -the words were uttered, just calm acceptance, just the matter-of-fact -indifference of a man who has a duty to perform and doesn't care what -happens afterwards.</p> - -<p>But it would have perhaps been better if Corriston had not moved so -quickly forward, for almost instantly the second guard barred his -passage and laid a firm hand on his arm.</p> - -<p>"Hold on. Just a minute," the tall guard said. "You're Peter Stone, -aren't you?"</p> - -<p>With a quick pretense of anger Corriston jerked his arm free and looked -the guard up and down. "Naturally I'm Stone. Who in hell did you think -I was."</p> - -<p>"Sorry," the guard said, shrugging. "Don't take it out on me. I just -had to be sure."</p> - -<p>"Well, you're sure now. I guess you know why I'm here."</p> - -<p>The guard nodded. "Ramsey just phoned down about you. Your friend is -with him now. See that big gray building, the one on the left with the -shuttered windows? There's a guard stationed at the door, but he won't -stop you. He has his orders. Climb two flights of stairs and go down -the long corridor on the third floor. Ramsey and your friend are in the -last room on the left."</p> - -<p>Corriston drew a deep breath, wondering if the guard had noticed the -tightening of his facial muscles. He turned away from the gate slowly, -staring out over the interior of the fortress, letting his emotions of -the moment take complete possession of him.</p> - -<p>He had entered as if by magic a world apart, a small, shutin world -of massive magnificence, of undreamed of material power and wealth. -There were five buildings within the encircling wall of the fortress, -each monumental in architectural sweep. Each was a citadel alone and -apart, monuments to man's creative genius erected by one man with a -determination to make himself unique.</p> - -<p>It was a folly almost beyond belief, a terrifying distortion of human -creativeness that could lead only to ultimate disaster and defeat.</p> - -<p>But greedy and cruel and ruthless as Ramsey undoubtedly was, there -still burned in him a little of the spark that had created Athens in -white marble. Had it not been so, he could not have even commissioned -men of creative genius to transport to Mars the materials for such a -project and have taken pleasure in its completion.</p> - -<p>"Your friend got here two hours ago," the tall guard said. "They've -been talking ever since. He came down to the gate once and said we -should let you in, you and another man. Saddler, I think his name was. -I see he's not with you."</p> - -<p>"No, Saddler is not with me," Corriston said.</p> - -<p>"What happened to him?"</p> - -<p>"The big gray building with the shuttered windows, you said. If the -guard tries to stop me, what do I say."</p> - -<p>"I told you he had his orders."</p> - -<p>Corriston looked up at the massive gate swinging shut behind him. For -good or ill, he was completely trapped, completely at the mercy of the -armed guards inside the citadel.</p> - -<p>They hadn't taken his gun away from him, but, nevertheless, he was -trapped. What chance would one armed man have against seventy-five or -a hundred guards? They were keeping out of sight, all but the two at -the gate. But at any moment they could converge upon him and shoot -him down. They could choose their own moment, precisely as a research -medical man could choose his own moment to experiment upon a laboratory -animal, knowing that the creature was safe in its cage and couldn't -possibly get away.</p> - -<p>Corriston's lips tightened and from a shadowed corner of his mind came -a determination to brush all that aside, to ignore it completely. The -guards at the gate might very well be telling the truth. It stood to -reason that Ramsey would have remained secretive about his daughter. -Kidnappers do not like to have their ransom demands discussed too -openly. If Ramsey had been a complete fool he would have gone down -to the gate and taken the guards completely into his confidence, but -Corriston could not believe that Ramsey was that much of a fool.</p> - -<p>In all probability Henley had threatened Ramsey and provoked him almost -beyond endurance. There had arisen the questions of how the ransom was -to be paid, the girl set free.</p> - -<p>Damn it, Corriston thought, the thing for me to do now is to go -straight toward that building and straight up the stairs to the third -floor and straight down the corridor until I'm confronting Ramsey face -to face. I'm Peter Stone. I'm one of the two men who helped Henley -kidnap the girl and I've come to help Henley convince Ramsey. I've -come to help him really put the screws on Ramsey. I can improvise from -that point on.</p> - -<p>He moved away from the guards without looking back. Within the citadel -there was silence, stillness, the five massive buildings cutting a -rampart of pure, fragile design across the sky. There was a strange -kind of perfection about the interior of the citadel. It was akin, -somehow, to the perfection of solitude and even the sky seemed hushed, -expectant, remote from reality, as if awaiting the unfolding of some -impossible event, some terrifying drama of violence and retribution -that could take place nowhere else.</p> - -<p>But Corriston's reason told him that to believe any such thing would -have been the height of folly. The sky inside the citadel was just as -real, just as cloud-flecked and palely blue as the sky outside, and the -notion that architecture or scenery of any kind could influence events -was absolute nonsense. Things would happen exactly as he willed them to -happen, provided nothing stood in the way of immediate drastic action -and the kind of luck which had saved him at the gate continued to smile -upon him.</p> - -<p>The big gray building with the shuttered windows continued to occupy -most of his attention, and he walked very resolutely toward it, his -eyes on the glimmer of pale light which marked its wide doorway. He was -still fifty feet away when he saw the guard, standing very quietly just -inside the door with his hand on his gun holster.</p> - -<p>Corriston's lips tightened, but he did not moderate his stride. He had -a reply ready if the guard challenged him. He preferred to believe that -he would not be challenged, but he had no intention of taking anything -for granted.</p> - -<p>He continued on until he reached the doorway and then he stopped -abruptly. He waited for the guard to say something, but the man did not -speak at all. He simply stared quietly at Corriston for an instant, and -then stepped quickly back into the shadows. Corriston went on past him, -and advanced along the wide corridor that stretched before him.</p> - -<p>The wide central staircase that circled up did not seem appropriate -to a building that was not a residence and Corriston found himself -wondering if Ramsey had turned the other four buildings into similarly -unusual expressions of his own strong-willed orientation to reality.</p> - -<p>The buildings had undoubtedly been designed as administrative units -of an industrial empire—a beginning empire in a new world. An empire -predatory, avaricious, merciless. Yet Ramsey had seemingly allowed his -desire for a home to gain dominance here, had allowed the emotions -common to all men to influence his taste in interior architecture in at -least one of the buildings.</p> - -<p>Chalk up that much to Ramsey's credit. In that respect at least, he -was superior to Henley. In that respect at least a man of good will -could take sides, all apart from the personal issues involved. Henley -was a predatory vulture on all counts, his talons constantly spread, -constantly crimson-tipped. Ramsey was a vulture too, but in the depths -of his mind he knew it. Part of the agony was shared by him, and in -one desperate, despairing part of his personality he had tried to be -creative.</p> - -<p>Corriston ascended the staircase swiftly, casting one brief glance at -some murals and then ignoring them. The second floor landing stretched -away into shadows, bisected by a wide corridor dimly lighted by -overhead lamps. The second floor had an administrative building aspect -and so did the third floor, which seemed in all respects its exact -duplicate.</p> - -<p>Corriston's excitement grew as he mounted the stairway. He felt like -a man poised on the brink of a precipice with no assurance that he -would not be hurled to his death; a man aware that tragedy would not -strike him like a thunderbolt at any moment; and yet also like a man -who thought and felt differently from the trapped and the desperately -despairing.</p> - -<p>He felt very confident, very sure of himself, and it seemed to him that -there was no danger that he could not surmount, and deep within him -there was something that exulted in the thought and kept him moving -steadily upward.</p> - -<p>The third floor was like the second, its long central corridor -dwindling away into shadows. Down it he moved cautiously, remembering -what the guard at the gate had said. The third floor, the last door on -your left.</p> - -<p>Ramsey was in conference. But it wasn't a conference of industrial -associates planning a division of spoils. Ramsey was talking to a -killer under duress.</p> - -<p>Corriston was half way down the corridor when he heard the shot. It -rang out in the stillness with a terrible clarity, sending echoes -reverberating throughout the building, stopping Corriston in his tracks.</p> - -<p>For an instant the silence remained absolute, as if the shot had -somehow silenced all life within the building. Even Corriston's -breathing was affected by it, so that for an instant he remained like -a man horror-blasted into immobility, frozen, a statue with waxen -features and widely dilated eyes.</p> - -<p>Then, abruptly, he ceased to be a statue. He broke into a run, heading -for the door from which the shot had come.</p> - -<p>He came to the door and saw that it did not slide open on a panel. It -was massive, with a knob jutting out from it, and when he grasped the -knob it swung inward instantly and soundlessly and he found himself in -a large, blank-walled room brightly illumed by three circular overhead -lamps.</p> - -<p>Ramsey was sitting stiff and straight before a desk that was cluttered -with reference files, manuscripts in folders, pens, pencils and other -writing materials. His face was drained of all color, and his eyes were -wide and staring. He was looking directly at Corriston, and yet he did -not seem to see Corriston.</p> - -<p>He did not appear to be staring at anything in particular, that small, -shrunken, unimpressive-looking little man with graying temples and a -look of blank incomprehension in his eyes that chilled Corriston to the -core of his being.</p> - -<p>Shaking, wishing that the eyes would close or brighten with relief, or -do anything but remain so stonily indifferent, Corriston moved closer -to the desk.</p> - -<p>He saw at once that Ramsey was close to death. He had been shot in the -chest. There was a dull red stain on his chest, and even as Corriston -stared it widened, a butterfly pattern of red, like a Rorschach seen -through the eyes of a homicidally inclined psychotic.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Ramsey moved. He caught hold of the desk edge, and swayed a -little, but his eyes remained filmed, blankly staring.</p> - -<p>Corriston was bending above him when a familiar voice said: "He's done -for. Nothing you can do for him. We had an argument and he lost his -head. He just couldn't see it my way. So I made a mistake and shot him. -It was a mistake, all right. I lost <i>my</i> head. Now I've got nothing to -lose by killing you."</p> - -<p>Corriston raised his eyes slowly. He had one chance in a hundred -perhaps. He knew it; he sensed it. Henley had somehow managed to stay -out of sight for an instant. The room was very large. There were -shadows in it, and Henley had apparently flattened himself against the -wall behind the desk, in deep shadow.</p> - -<p>But now he was standing very straight and still behind the desk, -ignoring the shuddering form of the man he had shot, little dark -deathheads dancing in his eyes.</p> - -<p>Henley's nearness did not bother Corriston. Death at ten feet could be -no more final than death at a hundred yards.</p> - -<p>Only one thing bothered him. Events could move fast when you were close -to a killer.</p> - -<p>He didn't intend to let them move fast. Not for him, at any rate. He -let his eyes rest for an instant on the gun in Henley's hand, his -thoughts racing. He knew that he'd be as good as dead if he made a -single concession.</p> - -<p>Don't let him know that the gun worries you. Pretend that the odds are -even, even though he's got the drop on you.</p> - -<p>Corriston said: "How do you know he's fatally wounded? The wound's -three inches below his heart. You're taking a hell of a lot for -granted. You just said you made a mistake in shooting him. If he's -rushed to a hospital that mistake may not be your last. You'll have a -chance to go to work on him again."</p> - -<p>Henley shook his head, his lips tightening. "Don't be a fool. He'll be -dead in five minutes."</p> - -<p>"I'm not being a fool," Corriston said. "What will you stand to gain by -shooting me and letting him die? You've got his daughter, but a dead -man won't be able to ransom her."</p> - -<p>For a moment, nothing happened. Henley had made no attempt to draw -his gun, and he did not draw it now. He stood very quietly staring at -Corriston, breathing heavily, a strange, withdrawn look in his eyes.</p> - -<p>Perhaps he was thinking over what Corriston had said. Corriston -wondered about that for an instant, and then dismissed it from his -mind. You did not take anything for granted when you were standing that -close to a killer.</p> - -<p>It was probably too late to save Ramsey. But for the first time he was -standing very near to Henley with a weapon beneath his hand. If he drew -his gun instantly and shot Henley through the heart Ramsey might have a -chance. Otherwise....</p> - -<p>Somehow he couldn't do it; not without giving the other some slight -warning, not without whipping his hand to his gun with a vigor that -was clear and unmistakable. In matters of crime a fair man is at a -disadvantage. He can only deal with a murderer in one way.</p> - -<p>He drew a split second ahead of Henley. He shot Henley three times, the -gun blazing in his hands, and it did not seem important to him that -Henley had also drawn his gun. A tight knot reached into his stomach as -Henley's gun blazed, but he kept right on firing.</p> - -<p>Henley died missing him, not scoring at all. That was the incredible -thing. Henley, an expert shot, a genius at massacre, had missed him -clearly with five shots and now he was down on the floor, clutching at -his stomach, dragging himself along, while beneath his fingers a dull -red stain grew.</p> - -<p>His eyes turned glassy suddenly. He tried twice to raise himself but he -fell back each time. He did not speak at all. Blood from his punctured -lungs flooded up into his mouth, and with a terrible, convulsive -trembling of his entire body he rolled over on his side and lay still.</p> - -<p>Corriston's hands began to sweat beneath the hard, cold gun. He wanted -to drop the weapon, to hurl it from him, but he couldn't somehow. He -had killed Saddler in immediate self-defense. This had been a little -different—a new experience, a frightening experience and he had been -forced to grit his teeth even in firing, and now that it was all over -he was tormented inwardly in a way that left him badly shaken.</p> - -<p>Henley was gone now. Dead and still and forever removed from a world -he had contaminated. Henley had been warped and twisted largely by -circumstances outside himself; nevertheless a deadly reptile has to be -crushed when it is about to strike.</p> - -<p>Corriston looked up from the limp form sprawled out on the floor, and -for a moment the tight lines of his face relaxed a little. Henley was -no longer a menace; the breath of life that had sustained him had -expired so completely that he had become now a kind of hollow mockery -of something monstrous and distorted that could never harm anyone again.</p> - -<p>It was Ramsey who had to be considered now, Ramsey who was in peril.</p> - -<p>The light in the room seemed somehow a little dimmer than it had been. -He turned slowly back to Ramsey, and for a moment could not quite -believe what he saw.</p> - -<p>Ramsey's face was changing. The hollows beneath his cheekbones were -deeper than they had been, and his mouth had gone completely slack, and -his eyes were uprolled in a quite ghastly way, so that only the whites -showed.</p> - -<p>Slowly as Corriston stared Ramsey's features began to come apart. The -familiar, hideous pattern began to repeat itself on Ramsey's blanched -features. The mouth widened until it turned into a shapeless, colorless -gash in a face that was hardly recognizable. The nose widened and -spread out, the chin receded, and the cheeks became a flattened expanse -of wrinkled flesh that stubbornly refused to stop spreading.</p> - -<p>Ramsey's face became a pumpkin face, with slits for eyes and a hideous -caricature of a mouth that seemed almost to pout as it expanded.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Ramsey was no longer sitting upright before the desk. His body -swayed and began to slump, tilting at first only a little sideways and -then sliding completely from the chair to the floor.</p> - -<p>Ramsey did not descend to the floor with violence. It was a slow, -barely perceptible gliding motion of his entire body that carried him -from an upright position to a prone one in less than thirty seconds. -His body seemed to collapse inward upon itself, as if he had suddenly -become too skeleton-thin for his clothes, as if so much vitality had -been drained from him by the shot which had put an end to his life that -he had given up all hope of maintaining his dignity in death.</p> - -<p>But perhaps the man on the floor had no dignity to maintain. He wasn't -Ramsey. He was a hired substitute, an impostor, and quite obviously no -man would undertake to play such a role without calculating all of the -risks in advance. Perhaps he expected to die without dignity. Perhaps -that was one of the risks which went with the bargain—the assumption -that Ramsey might very well be killed in a violent fashion, and that -anyone who stepped into Ramsey's shoes and masqueraded as Ramsey might -expect a similar fate.</p> - -<p>Corriston felt a nerve begin to twitch violently in his cheek. Why -had Ramsey kept Henley occupied in so strange a manner, talking to a -nonentity, a stand-in, a double who could never bargain and come to -terms unless Ramsey ordered him to do so? Had Ramsey been incapable of -dealing with Henley directly, and had taken this means of complying -with the ransom demands?</p> - -<p>It seemed incredible on the face of it. Ramsey was quite obviously the -kind of man who could live through any kind of private hell if he had -to.</p> - -<p>He'd have stood up to Henley no matter how great his inner torment. -He'd have met the ransom demands or rejected them—and it was almost -inconceivable that he would have rejected them—without for an instant -losing his outward composure. And even inwardly he would have kept a -tight rein on his emotions. He was not the kind of man who would hire -someone else to protect him from anything that vitally concerned him, -even with the masks so conveniently at hand.</p> - -<p>Why then had he employed a double to bargain with Henley and keep him -occupied for so long a time? It didn't matter if Ramsey had made use -of doubles in the past. Probably he had, in order to protect himself -in dealings with the colonists when the advantages of deception -would favor him. But he would never have done so under these present -circumstances—when a criminal who would stop at nothing was holding -his daughter under threat of death.</p> - -<p>He would never have done so unless he had some very special reason that -dominated his thinking to the exclusion of all else.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Corriston had the answer. It came to him in a lightning-swift -flash of intuition, which carried with it complete credibility. It was -more than a guess. Somehow he was sure; he knew. A full minute before -he heard the dull rumble of the tractors as they came through the -gate, and went to the window and stared down, he knew.</p> - -<p>He had the answer and yet what he saw eclipsed what he knew. It was a -little like watching a rocket take off, hearing the roar and seeing the -flames through all of its burning time, and seeing at the same time the -men on the proving ground moving swiftly about, and the space-helmeted -men at the controls of the rocket itself, each grimly intent on one -particular task.</p> - -<p>Ramsey was returning into the Citadel with armed guards on both sides -of him, and his daughter was walking with her head erect at his -side. Five colony tractors had followed him into the Citadel and two -more were just coming through the gate, moving ponderously on their -caterpillar treads because each tractor weighed two tons even in the -light gravity of Mars.</p> - -<p>Corriston did an almost unbelievable thing then. Standing quietly -by the window he raised his right hand and saluted Ramsey in silent -tribute to the man's courage at the most threatening moment of his life.</p> - -<p>What Ramsey had done in no way lessened his guilt. But Corriston would -have just as readily repeated the salute in public, without caring what -anyone might think. What Ramsey had done was as clear to him now as a -series of moves on a chessboard laid out in advance, but hidden from -the man who was to be outwitted and outplayed.</p> - -<p>Ramsey had made use of a double to keep Henley occupied—no doubt with -repeated, skillful evasions, a constant insistence that more proof be -forthcoming, more details supplied. Perhaps a half-dozen conferences -had taken place in all, extending over many hours. And while Henley was -being encouraged to believe that Ramsey was being softened up and would -accept all of his demands in the end, Ramsey had gone out into the -desert alone, armed, furious, and determined to rescue his daughter if -it cost him his life.</p> - -<p>Or perhaps he hadn't gone alone. Perhaps he had taken a dozen armed -guards with him. Somehow it didn't seem important, couldn't take away -Ramsey's moment of victory. It was a moment of victory for Ramsey even -though he hadn't played a major role for long, even though he had found -his daughter already rescued and safe on his return. And Corriston had -been the one to move out into the center of the board and deliver the -<i>coup de grace</i>. He had kept a restless killer immobilized while the -play was under way, and that was victory enough for any man.</p> - -<p>Corriston suddenly realized that neither Ramsey nor the Colonists had -any way of knowing that Henley was dead. They had probably joined -forces outside the Citadel for the sole purpose of rescuing him from -the deadliest kind of danger. And he wasn't helping them at all. In -another minute they'd be trying to get to him with tear gas.</p> - -<p>It didn't make any kind of sense, but when Corriston went down the wide -central staircase he wasn't thinking about the colonists at all. He was -wondering only how Helen Ramsey would look standing alone on a strange -dark headland at midnight. Then the vision dissolved and another one -took its place. She wasn't on a headland any more.</p> - -<p>She was standing at the door of a small, white cottage and there were -a couple of kids beside her: a boy of about Freddy's age, or maybe a -little younger, and a little girl with golden curls, her hair like a -crown.</p> - -<p>He realized suddenly that it could never be a small, white cottage. -There were no small white cottages on the Station, and never could be. -But the Station would be all right for a married man with kids. The -kids could come and visit him, and his wife could be with him about -one-fourth of the time, both on the Station and on Earth.</p> - -<p>What more could a happily married man ask, if the Station was so much -a part of him that it was never wholly absent from his thoughts? He'd -have to ask her, of course—at least a dozen times to make sure—that -she really wanted that kind of man for a husband. But he knew what her -answer would be even before the vision dissolved, and he was soon out -in the central square between the five buildings, holding her tightly -in his arms.</p> - -<p>From the way she kissed him he knew that she must have endured an -eternity of torment just from uncertainty, just from not knowing -whether he was dead or alive. For an instant he could think of nothing -else but the wonder of it, the absolute reassurance which she had -brought to him with her closeness, her gratefulness, the intensity of -her concern.</p> - -<p>Across the square they could see the tractors, looking in the dazzling -light like massive blocks of metal standing almost end to end. There -was a great deal of movement and shouting between the buildings, and -Corriston knew that in another half-minute they would no longer be -alone together, that the closeness couldn't last.</p> - -<p>A change was coming over her face, and he was suddenly afraid for her, -afraid that when she was told the full truth about her father just the -pain of knowing might make her withdraw from him, even though it could -never really come between them or separate them for long.</p> - -<p>So there it was. He could see it in her eyes, the fear, the shadow, -and because he had no way of knowing just how much she already knew -he decided that only complete honesty could keep the shadow from -lengthening.</p> - -<p>His hands moved slowly up over her face, and he drew her chin up and -said, very gently: "There's something I'd like to say now, about your -father. Without his help Henley would have finished what he started out -to do. There are different ways of paying off a debt, and your father—"</p> - -<p>She raised her hand as if to put a stop to his words. "Darling, I know -he's in serious trouble. Don't try to spare me; there's no need to. -There will be a trial and we both know what the outcome will be. He'll -never walk out of the courtroom a free man. But he's not afraid ... and -neither am I. These last few, terrible hours have changed him. He's not -ashamed now to admit that he loves me. All the hardness, the coldness, -is gone."</p> - -<p>Something in her voice stilled the questions he wanted to ask. She -seemed to sense what was in his mind, for she said quickly. "I don't -think father has any enemies now on Mars. He's going to give the -colonists back their land. Not because he has to, but because he wants -to. They came to his assistance when they could have used the way -he cheated and robbed them as an excuse for not helping him at all. -There are few men who wouldn't feel grateful, who wouldn't be shaken -by remorse. But I think it goes deeper than that. Even now I'm not -completely sure, but I think he knows it's the only way he can free -himself from the prison he's been building around himself since I was a -little girl."</p> - -<p>She was silent for an instant, while the pain in her eyes seemed to -deepen. Then she said, "I can't leave him now, darling. Not right away. -It would be too cruel a blow."</p> - -<p>Ahead now Corriston could see three of the colonists coming toward him. -They were less than forty feet away. "I think I know how it is," he -said. "When you've been through too much, you just go dead inside. You -can feel sympathy for someone very close, like your father. But that's -about all...."</p> - -<p>"Darling, that's not what I mean. We'll be apart, but just for a little -while. It will be so short a time we won't even miss it later on ... -two or three weeks, at most. And this time you won't have to wonder -about me at all."</p> - -<p>Corriston noticed then for the first time that her hair had been blown -in all directions by the wind. He remembered how, on their first -meeting, it had been disarranged in much the same way. She'd been -wearing a beret then, and just the casual tilt of her hat had done -the fluffing. But wind or no wind, he'd always like the way her hair -looked, the gold in it, and the way it set off the great beauty of her -face.</p> - -<p>"I'd be more than unreasonable if I tried to pick flaws in a promise -like that," he said.</p> - -<p>"You can never go home again," someone had once said. You can never go -home because people change and places change with them, and familiar -scenes take on an aspect of strangeness as the old, well-loved -landmarks fade.</p> - -<p>But in space, the landmarks are as wide and deep as the gulfs between -the stars, and it is not too difficult for a man to return to a -steel-ribbed Gibraltar in space and experience again the emotions he -felt when he first sighted it, and hear again the long thunder-roll of -the ships berthing and taking off.</p> - -<p>The ship which was bringing Corriston back had begun to loom up behind -the telemetric aerials with her bow slanting forward. She had almost -berthed, and, standing with his face half in shadow, Commander Clement -watched the landing lights flashing on and off and wondered just what -he would say to the young lieutenant he'd never met—the very famous -lieutenant who would be emerging from the boarding port and descending -the ramp any minute now.</p> - -<p>He told himself that it ought to be something very simple and direct, -accompanied by a friendly handclasp and a nod. "Welcome back, -Lieutenant. Welcome back. I guess you know how I feel about the -scoundrels who kept us from meeting the first time."</p> - -<p>Yes, just a few words and a friendly handclasp would be best. No -salutes either given or returned. No stiff-necked salutes, and damn the -regulations for once. It was truly a very great occasion.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Space Station 1, by Frank Belknap Long - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACE STATION 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 50290-h.htm or 50290-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/2/9/50290/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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